Ask Invasion Onderon Onderon Invasion: Senate Building

Altair Din

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When he heard the Sith were going to descend on the planet that launched the strike on his home on Dromund Kaas, Altair was among the first in line to sign up. Rage burned in his heart as he thought of everything he lost in one fell swoop in that attack. He donned his champion armor and boarded one of the shuttles that had Imperials under his command with him. This was a tactical attack with Sith descending at different points on Iziz.

He vaguely caught sight of a starfighter manipulated and thrown into the palace, the display catching his attention for a moment. He also felt that familiar chill down his spine that suggested the Dark Lord was in the vicinity. You didn’t need to see him to feel his presence and anyone in the area would feel that sense of uneasiness in their bones and guts.

Altair walked down the shuttle ramp along with his soldiers and was engaged almost immediately. He had been given orders to capture diplomats from the Senate building ahead. It wasn’t his favorite mission, but he would do as asked. He coiled the Force around the Alliance soldiers and tossed them in different directions, clearing a path for himself and his men to advance towards the senate building.

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Samara Draven

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Onderon was the last place Samara ever expected to find herself. The jungle world had never banished the Jedi as the extremists in the Core Worlds had, but it had turned its back on the Jedi at every opportunity. Its Consul had made it abundantly clear that he was no friend to the Jedi, and the Jedi were no friends of his. As outspoken and defiant as he had been in the face of the Empire, it was a miracle that the planet had never been invaded. Onderon was a prime target, one of the only worlds within the Free Worlds Alliance willing to stand up to the Sith war machine.

Even the sun would shine on a womp rat's tail from time to time, but today the sun was no longer shining on Onderon. Star destroyers darkened the evening sky, casting long shadows over the jungles beneath. The city was in flames, and the walls that had protected the capital for centuries crumbled. Sector Rangers and Onderon's private military and royal guard scrambled to hold the invaders back, but they were outnumbered and outgunned. If the sun was ever to shine on Onderon again, it would have to be the Jedi that turned the tide of battle.

Jedi would lay down their lives today in defense of this planet, in defense of the citizens of a stuck up wastoid of a Consul, too absorbed with the fanfare and the credits and the drugs (if tabloids were to be believed) to rescue his own planet from destruction. The Chalactan was tempted to bypass the senate building as she swept down each street one by one, evacuating citizens, but the persistent, nagging voice in the back of her head wouldn't allow it. Every life deserved a second chance today. Even a politician's.

The Consul, however, was nowhere to be found. He'd probably already fled the planet for greener pastures. Maybe it was for the best. Samara wasn't sure she'd have the self-control necessary to drag his sorry pink exhaust port out of the building. The Chalactan shepherded the last group of clerical workers from the top floor into the glass lift, stepping in behind them. The stairs would have been safer, but they were running out of time, and bureaucratic pencil pushers weren't usually known for their speed, particularly down twenty flights of stairs.

Samara stared out through the glass pane, violet eyes wide as a Sith shuttle touched down outside of the building. They were coming. @Sreeya

 

Altair Din

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Rockets and missiles were flying in all directions, the impacts causing chunks of debris to rain down from above. Altair had been in war zones before and he remained largely unfazed as he advanced with his men, cutting an imposing figure with his trademark armor which made him appear more demonic than usual. He wore no cape, his tail swishing back and forth behind him as he strode towards the building.

“Path is clear, engage,” He called out through his helmet comms to his soldiers. His line of sight was clear and they advanced through the debris and the corpses of Alliance soldiers that lined the streets. Altair gazed at the glass double doors that led to the building and he channeled the Force, blasting it out to collide with the glass. The doors were shattered instantly, a chain reaction extending out so the panels on either side also collapsed in a swirl of ground up glass.

The soldiers stormed in first, unleashing a barrage of blasterfire at any guards or soldiers defending inside the building. Altair followed behind them, the building opening up to a large and circular atrium. His visor tilted up to gaze along the railings and balconies on the floors above to spot for any movement. He already saw a guard rushing to take cover and he coiled the Force around the man, yanking him down to his death as he harshly collided with the ground after falling from the levels above.

“Don’t kill any of the diplomats,” He ordered his men, “They are to be captured alive.”

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Samara Draven

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There was a sense of dread that hung in the air, that clung to the Chalactan like the humidity on a hot afternoon on Yavin IV. It was overpowering in every sense of the word, suffocating almost, and all too familiar. The effects of the Dark Side were unmistakable, and yet for the training and for all of the provision that had poured into this long awaited day, it couldn't have prepared her for its power. The Dark Side was strong, stronger perhaps than her instructors had led her to believe.

She had felt its effects once before, on Sullust as a young girl, but somehow, this time it was different. A constant, unwavering ebb in the Force. An unnatural corruption of the Force that went against her nature, against her very being, both as a Chalactan and as a Jedi. She watched from the glass lift as a Sith emerged from the shuttle, his armor as dark as the great plumes of smoke that rose in the distance. A durasteel helmet covered his face, a stratagem of the Sith to appear more daunting, as if their presence in the Force wasn't enough.

Soldiers scrambled to halt his advance, but he wouldn't be stopped. He tossed each of them aside like ragdolls with merely the wave of his hand, as if they were his play things to do with as he pleased, and not living, breathing sentients. The Padawan's heart pounded within her, some muddled combination of fury and fear. She tried to convince herself that she wasn't afraid, that this was just another day in the life of a Jedi, but she knew that wasn't true. She had witnessed the destruction of the Sith many times, in the aftermath, but this was her first real trial. There was a part of her that was terrified—scared that she'd let these people down, that she would die at the hands of a Sith. At the hands of the monsters of the galaxy.

Death, yet the Force... she reminded herself. She'd stood by once before, helpless as the Sith murdered innocent people on Sullust. Onderon would be different. Perhaps it would fall today, but Samara would not rest until she'd done everything in her power to protect its citizens. Even if that meant the ultimate sacrifice.
The lift came to a stop on the second floor, its metal doors sliding open. The first floor had already been compromised, a mess of shattered glass and overpowered security officers desperately trying to hold the line, but they had never been trained for something of this scale.

"This way," she instructed in the calmest voice she could muster, escorting the lift full of people down the hallway, toward the set of emergency stairs in the back. "Use the stairs and get out of here as fast as you can." The senate building had already fallen. It was just a matter of escape now.


Samara did not follow. She knew what she had to do—defend the security guards that remained, and buy the evacuees as much time as she could. The Chalactan took a deep, steadying breath and reached for the blade that hung at her side. @Sreeya

 

Altair Din

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His gaze remained fixed on the floors above, and he could tell there was some movement in the corner as a repulsorlift arrived. His visor stared in that direction, the cold helmet ominous as it watched and calculated. After a moment, the tiefling channeled the Force and sprang up towards the balcony of the second floor. His hands grasped the railing and he easily vaulted himself over with inhuman grace, landing in a crouch on the other side. He rose to his full height to stare at the girl that was in the middle of ushering the diplomats away. Though she was flanked by a few security guards, his visor was locked on her.

At once, the guards started open firing on him. Likely to her surprise, Altair did not draw a saber. Instead, both of his gauntleted arms were brought up. The Sith effortlessly deflected back the bolts with the same ease one would expect from a saber but with his Matukai gloves. A few of the bolts, deflected at such close range, shot back into a guard or two. For any that did not drop, Altair blasted them back with the Force, causing them to hit their heads and knock out.

The tiefling took another few steps forth towards the girl. Fear permeated all around like a stench and it was one he didn’t like. He was not one of those Sith just yet, the kind that relished fear and chaos, but he knew he had to do a job. He did not immediately lash out at her as she would have expected, though his hands were still up and prepared to defend.

“Step aside.”

His voice was calm and modulated. His visor gazed directly where her eyes were. It was the sight of them that gave him pause, and he was glad she couldn't see the surprise on his face. It was the first time he had ever come across someone else with eyes similar to his own. Even with a helmet in the way, Sith or Jedi, for a brief moment his violet eyes were just as wide and startled.

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Samara Draven

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Out of nowhere, like a bat out of Chaos, the Sith vaulted the second floor railing. Only moments ago she'd watched him stroll down the shuttle's entry ramp, and now he was just a few feet away from her, watching and waiting for an opportunity. Impulsively, and without thinking, she shrunk away from him, retreating two steps backward. Her face burned ashen, visibly unsettled, but unwilling to move any farther than she already had. She knew that she was exactly where she ought to be, between the Sith and the evacuees.

What happened next should have been predictable, but it wasn't. Instead of a vermillion blade that crackled to life, the Sith rose both arms, each protected by a pair of gauntlets she had never seen before. Violet eyes raked over their design, trying to figure out exactly what she was dealing with. The guards that retreated onto the second floor didn't hesitate to open fire upon the Sith, but Samara wished they hadn't. Each blaster bolt was deflected, almost effortlessly, as if the Sith had played this game a hundred times before, and she realized that she was most likely outmatched. If she wanted to make it off of Onderon alive, she'd have to fight twice as hard. Unlike the Jedi, it wasn't the Empire's practice to take prisoners, particularly Jedi.

Red plasma tore through two of the security officers, and they dropped dead beside her. The Chalactan's stomach twisted into a knot as burning flesh stung her nostrils, sparing each of them a passing glance, the only respect she could pay them for now. Their deaths had been unceremonious, unnecessary, and she wondered if they hadn't opened fire or if she'd acted more quickly, she could have prevented them. No more.

"Get out of here—" she started to order the others, but it was too late. They were already unconscious, struck by an invisible blow in the Force. Samara could still sense them—the rapid pulse of their beating hearts, the quiet intake of breath. Unconscious, but not dead. It was just Samara now. Samara and the Sith. The diplomats had already begun to file down the stairs, and she only hoped that there weren't more Sith down below, waiting to pounce on them as soon as the emergency door swung open.

It was a risky move that would divide her attention between the guards and the very real and imposing threat directly in front of her, but Samara knew she couldn't leave the unconscious men where they lay. Exposed, their very presence was practically an invitation for the Sith to carve a few more notches into those gauntlets. One hand reached out, violet eyes flicking back and forth between the Sith and her objective. The Force wrapped around the guards as a blanket might, dragging their limp bodies into the stairwell's landing behind her. Hopefully, whenever they awoke, they would make a break for it.

This distraction opened the Jedi up to an attack, but so long as the Sith hadn't lunged at her yet, she would plant her feet, look him in the visor, and raise her lightsaber. It hissed to life in her hands, her grip so hard that her knuckles had begun to turn white. "Make me," she spat. Hopefully she sounded more intimidating than she felt. @Sreeya


 

Altair Din

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While the girl temporarily looked away to tell the others to run, Altair quietly sent the order for the Sith on the levels below to be on standby to jump on the diplomats when they came out. He would have to keep the Jedi engaged up here so she couldn’t interject with the captures. The helmet remained fixed on her and he forced himself to look past beyond those eyes. The Force pulsed throughout his entire being, bolstered by the Sith presence all around him and the dark energies that emanated from the Dark Lord’s presence.

He took steps towards the girl as she moved the unconscious soldiers, watching the blade that ignited before him. He had seen many before him and he navigated around them each time. He said nothing in response to her defiant reply, but he knew he had a fight on his hands. The tiefling’s tail swished back and forth for a moment as he considered his options.

Without warning, the Force blasted out from him in an attempt to send the girl bodily flying back. He gave chase after that, rapidly closing the distance. He was prepared to meet her saber, his arms poised up before him. He banked on the opening blast to throw her off her guard.

Meanwhile, the Sith on the lower levels rapidly began to approach the exit that the diplomats were rushing down.

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Samara Draven

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Samara understood that she had taken a chance moving the guards to safety instead of leaving them where they were, that it left her vulnerable and opened her up to an attack, but she also knew that it was a risk worth taking, even if it did end up costing her.

And cost her it did. The Sith had already begun his advance, before the last unconscious man had even been deposited in the stairwell. Her gaze snapped back to the Sith after that, expecting him to lash out at her with his gauntlets or to finally draw a blade, but the Force was his weapon of choice. The telekinetic blast hit her head on, impelling her backwards and into the same wall that had knocked the guards unconscious only seconds earlier.

The Chalactan was luckier than they, her head swaying forward as it began to throb. At best, she had a minor concussion. At worst—well, she didn't want to think about that right now. She couldn't afford to, as she only had seconds to defend herself against his next attack. Violet eyes flicked to her left and then to her right, hoping to see something—anything that might help her. They settled on a fire extinguisher to her right, hanging on the wall. Reaching out through the Force, she pried it from the wall and thrust it at the Sith's torso.

Most likely, he'd dodge it or bat it away with his gauntlets, but it wasn't meant to strike him. It was merely a distraction to buy her more time. Using the wall to propel herself forward, she swung her violet blade in an upward trajectory toward his legs, in concurrence with the fire extinguisher. @Sreeya

 

Altair Din

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As Altair was already in a forward momentum towards the girl, he couldn’t have anticipated her hurtling a fire extinguisher of all things at him. He had been focused on where her saber was, but he felt the stupid extinguisher harshly collide with his shoulder. The tiefling cursed and stumbled to the side, pivoting on his foot to just barely avoid having his legs sliced off. Even then, the side of his left thigh took a light graze through the armor that left a faint burn on his skin.

“Seriously?” He hissed, still in disbelief over the use of a fire extinguisher. He had instinctively brought up his right arm when the thing hit him so he actually caught it. Pain still reverberating through his shoulder from the heavy extinguisher clashing with him, he swiftly brought up his hand to the top of it and unleashed a spray of flame retardant directly towards the girl’s face. At this point he wanted to be petty and pay her back for clobbering him with it. Given that she was waving her saber around, he doubted she would avoid having the spray all over her face, hair and body.

The tielfing was facing her more from her left side after his pivot, but he didn’t launch other attacks this time. He was banking on her having to react to the extinguisher before he followed up with an attack.

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Samara Draven

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At this point, Samara should have already realized that the only thing she could expect from the Sith opposite her was the unexpected. First, it had been gauntlets instead of a lightsaber, and then it had been the Force instead of the gauntlets. The attack that followed was completely out of the blue, and she couldn't have guess his next move even if she'd tried. He didn't bat the fire extinguisher away or cut it in half or even try to knock her over the head with it. He just turned the nozzle toward her face, pulled the pin, and let it do the rest of the work for him.

The Chalactan gasped, flabbergasted, as she lurched backward a step or two. She stood there, completely still, motionless as she attempted to process what had just happened. Were all Sith this unpredictable? Was this what a duel to the death was supposed to look like? She didn't know. This was her first, and it wasn't like anything she had imagined it to be. She was covered in the white powder. It was in her hair, and on her face, neck, and upper torso.

"What the... Why would you do that?" she asked in a high-pitched, irritated voice, her reaction delayed. Her left hand reached upward in an attempt to wipe away the white powder that covered her eyes. Her mouth fell open, smacking as the bitter taste began to sink in. "It's in my mouth!" she spluttered. It would serve him right if some of it landed on his armor. Her throat began to burn, and she coughed as she struggled to catch her breath. @Sreeya

 

Altair Din

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Altair was decidedly pleased when his attempt worked. He heard the girl screeching and heard her sputter and complain. For good measure, he gave her another blast of the spray right as she opened her mouth to complain so her sentiments about it being in her mouth came out muffled. The tiefling was not going to ease off on her just yet, and he used the little window he had to close the distance between them.

As a Matukai, he was well versed in close quarters combat, and he used everything to his advantage. His tail shot out to snap at the back of her knees to make her topple over while his free hand came up to strike her arm where the ulnar nerve ran near her elbow. The strike was intended to cause an abrupt sensation of weakness in her fingers which would hopefully make her drop the saber. He applied a gentle tug of the Force to yank the hilt away to assist the process if needed.

Meanwhile, there was a scuffle happening on the first floor as the guards accompanying the diplomats engaged the Imperial troops. Blasterfire erupted below and the civilians could be heard screaming as they ducked for cover or attempted to scramble back up the stairs.

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Samara Draven

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To add insult to injury, the Sith sprayed her with a second round from the fire extinguisher as soon as she opened her mouth, as if he'd just been waiting. Samara was furious, both muscles and veins straining against her skin as her arms shook with unchecked rage. She wanted nothing more than to lop that durasteel helmet from his shoulders at that moment and watch it roll away, if only she could see it.

The Chalactan continued to cough and spit, trying to expel as much of the chemical solution from her mouth. Before she even managed to come up for air, he'd hit her again. This time without the fire extinguisher, which would have been a relief in and of itself if it weren't for the pain that followed. His tail struck the back of her knees like a whip might drive a horse, while another blow was delivered to her saber arm.

Unusual and debilitating sensations shot through her arm and fingers, and without her consent, the lightsaber slipped free of her grasp of its own accord. She could hear it falling, skittering across the floor somewhere to her right as she tumbled backwards. The Sith loomed over her, gauntlets raised, like something out a nightmare or a late night holohorror. Except she wasn't a happy go lucky protagonist, destined to escape the clutches of evil to live and fight another day. She could die right here and now, covered in this disgusting white powder.

Worse than that, screams began to echo up the stairwell, altering her to the danger the building's evacuees now faced. She thought she had been protecting them, remaining behind to fight the Sith, but she saw now that she was just wasting time. She needed to get down there to help them, before it was too late. Now the Sith was in her way.

Violet eyes flicked upward, to the ceiling directly above the Sith. Reaching out through the Force, it began to twist and bend, metal creaking in protest as plaster and drywall tumbled down. While the ceiling collapsed on itself, Samara would scramble to her feet, one hand reaching out to catch the lightsaber that hopefully would glide toward her. Then she would dart for the stairwell, never even looking back. @Sreeya

 

Altair Din

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Altair grinned beneath his helmet knowing he had her down and had the upper hand. He saw her attempt to reach for her saber, and he coiled the Force around her neck in an attempt to choke her. However, this meant he wasn’t paying attention to what was happening above him. Within moments, the chunk of debris fell right atop him and he crashed to the floor, barely avoiding pinning her in the process as he grunted in pain. Thankfully it was a quick Force tug from the girl and it wouldn’t be a significant piece of the ceiling, but it was a nuisance nonetheless.

The tiefling sprang to his feet and gave chase after her, “Get back here!” He growled behind her as he skidded and slipped a few times on the same flame retardant he had sprayed all over the place. He hurled the extinguisher at her, but his aim wasn’t exactly a strong suit. It managed to conk a poor guard over the head that was just barely rising up from being thrown against the wall earlier. He was out cold yet again in the exact same spot.

Altair cursed at his miss and he coiled the Force and gave the girl a nice little shove. The aim was to have her eat shit and tumble the entire way down the stairs and probably take out a couple diplomats in the process like bowling pins. If she looked back at any point, she would notice that chunks of the ceiling were stuck to the points of his horns which he didn’t notice just yet.

The tiefling grasped the stairwell railing, leaping clear over it to drop towards wherever she was at that point.

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Samara Draven

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The ceiling crumbled to pieces, and Samara thought that it would give her enough time to make it to the stairs. If she was lucky, a metal beam might even fall on his head and knock him out, but she wasn't. The Dark Side of the Force coiled around her neck like a boa constrictor suffocating its prey to death. She'd never been so close to death before, her face draining of all its color. The hands that should have reached for her lightsaber reached for her neck instead, out of impulse, for all the good it would do.

The Chalactan stumbled forward, still choking and struggling to catch her breath. Her offense had gained her very little, and she suddenly felt very nauseous, and she hoped to the stars she didn't throw up all over the unconscious security guard she floundered over. Another blow from the Force hurled her down the stairs like a tin can kicked to the curb.

Diplomats had begun to bolt for the stairs again, running back in the direction they had come to escape the Sith forces at the emergency exit. They probably hoped Samara would be able to help them, but instead she knocked into each of them on her way down, rolling to a stop at the bottom of the landing. She bit back tears as she struggled to push herself up. She knew that she couldn't lie there forever, just waiting for the Sith to come and finish her off, but the pain was excruciating.

Only movement at the top of the stairs spurred her into action, and she turned toward the diplomats, still reeling from that unexpected collision. "Get out of here," she muttered again in a hoarse voice, wincing at the burning that spread through her throat. The emergency exit and the stairs were no longer viable options, so only one remained. "Basement..." There had to be another exit down there, and if not, they could find somewhere to hide until the coast was clear. If it was ever clear.

Now Samara had a choice to make—double back for her lightsaber or try and distract the Sith long enough for the evacuees to make it out of the basement. The choice was obvious, as much as it might have pained her. Back to square one. Using the railing to support her weight, she drug herself to her feet, leaning against the wall. One hand held her side, where a bruise was probably already beginning to form beneath her clothing.

The Sith landed directly in front of her, gauntlets at the ready. Scraps of plaster stuck to the tips of his horns. "You look like an idiot," was the only attack she could muster at first, blood dripping from a cut across her bottom lip. Then she drew back, calling upon the Force to enhance her physical strength as she threw a kick meant to send my flying down the last flight of stairs. @Sreeya


 

Altair Din

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The diplomats screamed and cried as they were straight up trucked on their way up. Altair hopped down in time to see it all play out. The tiefling was about to move for an attack when the girl whirled around and said he looked like an idiot. Altair glared beneath his helmet, taking great offense to that accusation. He caught her glancing up at his horns and figured it was another prejudiced moron, but he realized he felt some extra weight on his head. He absentmindedly reached up and felt the debris there.

Altair was about to quip right back at her and attack when he heard some of the diplomats blabbing behind the girl as they scrambled back down the stairs. He stared at the girl's determined look and listened to the exchange directly behind her from the diplomats that thought they couldn't be heard.

“-Are you sure she’s a Jedi?”

“I don’t know! She had one of those laser doohickies!"

“I DIDN’T SURVIVE THE JEDI ON KASHYYYK JUST TO DIE BECAUSE OF ONE ON ONDERON!” An old lady screeched from somewhere below. She had to be restrained by the other civilians and shushed to continue down the stairs.

Throughout the exchange, Altair simply stood there and blinked in silence beneath the helmet. He sprang to action as soon as the Jedi led with an impressive kick. However, Altair planted himself firmly, preparing for it. As the kick came, he reached out and grasped her foot mid-air and didn’t even budge. The guy had almost 60 pounds of pure muscle on her and the point of his tail dragged along the ground to stabilize him.

He leaned in closer to her face, “At least I ain’t out here lookin’ like a D-list S-pop singer,” Altair quipped back, some of his accent bleeding through in the heat of the moment. As he spoke, he abruptly kicked his own leg out towards her other leg. With this happening the same time as him catching her foot, it would force her to awkwardly do the splits and drop on the floor. If his attempt was successful, he wouldn’t linger there but instead leap down to chase after the diplomats while leaving her behind in a perfectly landed olympic gymnast pose.

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Samara Draven

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Somehow the diplomat's words cut deeper than any physical cut she'd sustained that day, criticisms she would carry with her long after the throbbing in her head subsided and the bruises scattered across her skin faded. If she managed to live that long. Her stomach was rock hard, as if all that powder she'd swallowed had turned to cement in her stomach, but she knew the unpleasant feeling had nothing to do with the chemical solution and everything to do with the conversation she'd just overheard. Her chest hitched, and a part of her wished she'd never even come here. That pink baboon had probably filled his subordinate's heads with every lie imaginable, straight out of the Jedi defamation handbook.
She'd risked her life for them today, allowed her body to become the battered and bruised punching bag of a murderous Sith, and for what? To be ridiculed? Mocked? She wondered. What if she'd just left them to the Sith and never intervened? That's exactly what she could do now, if she wanted—allow the Sith to waltz after tham while she went to collect her lightsaber. Then she could just leave, and no one would ever be the wiser.

But she couldn't, and she knew she couldn't. A part of her realized that they were right, as much as it pained her to admit that even to herself. She'd failed in every way imaginable today, every small victory hampered by two defeats. All that training, all that preparation, and she'd still failed. Her long awaited day of triumph over the Sith was an absolute disaster. A single tear, kept at bay before, ran down the length of her cheek, cutting a line through the white powder that stained her face. She only hoped the Sith wouldn't notice it, or the dull, defeated look in her eyes.

Emotion, yet peace.... she reminded herself, taking in a deep, centering breath. The Chalactan stared after the Sith, marching down the stairs toward the basement door, still swung wide open. The diplomats hadn't even bothered barring it. I knew I should've stretched this morning, she thought to herself, grimacing as she slid into a crouched position.


Then, in what could only be described as a last ditch effort, she flung herself forward, catapulting off the top step, through the air, and onto the Sith's back—either to knock him over or to grab ahold of his horns and drag him back. A thunderous, dreadful sound filled her ears, her throbbing head instantly protesting. It sounded like an explosion, and then metal scraping against metal. Suddenly, the entire senate building began to shake. @Sreeya


 

Altair Din

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Altair didn’t have any confidence issues as he made his way down the stairs. He knew the girl would be stuck in her splits for a moment, giving him the time he needed to nab those insufferable politicians. His only source of irritation was his sore body from the hits he took and the mild burn on his leg. Other than that, his tail swished side to side almost jovially as he approached closer to his target.

He only managed another step before the Jedi leapt at him like a rabid monkey lizard. Altair’s eyes went wide as he toppled over with her on his back, a surge of pain once again going through his torso. He felt her grasp at the helmet mold of his horns and yank back. His head remained where it was, and this meant the helmet was pried right off in the scuffle. His jet black hair poofed out from underneath as he whirled around to roll out from under her.

Altair spun them both and pinned her beneath him, glaring down at her with piercing violet eyes not too unlike her own, “Take a fucking hint,” He growled at her, his face hovering above her own, “You’re beat,” He said as he once again began to coil the Force around her neck while physically holding her down to knock her out once and for all. However, he glanced up when he heard that rumble all around. Altair barely had a moment to stare before the entire building began to crumble.

Within moments, the level gave away and both of them were sent tumbling down as the floor collapsed and crumbled. Altair barely managed to grasp a hold of his helmet and channel the Force around himself to cushion his fall. He was thrown into complete darkness as debris fell all around. He couldn’t see anything, he couldn’t breathe, and he felt everything collapse all around him.

He was buried in chunks of the building, but he managed to cushion himself. He figured the Jedi was dead for sure, but he had no clue where he was. Altair groaned in pain, nudging a slab of debris away as he felt pain throughout his entire body. For a moment, he simply laid there, dazed from the drop down a few levels. It was pitch black and he was still struggling to catch his breath.

@llamallove
 

Samara Draven

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Samara stared up at the Sith, her mouth parted and her gaze flat and unreadable. She wasn't sure which surprised her more—the violet eyes staring back at her, strikingly similar to her own, or the fact that the horns sticking out from the top of his head were actually real. She thought they were just part of his helmet, an over the top accessory that he wore because he thought it made him look cool and formidable.

Before she could raise her fist to lash out at him or press against his weight with her knee, the floor collapsed beneath them. They were falling, tumbling into the darkness below as debris cascaded all around them. Samara's last waking thoughts were for her own safety, and the Force enveloped her, guiding her toward the bottom of this newly formed pit.

Everything was dark, and she wondered for a moment or two if she were dreaming. The Chalactan wasn't sure how long she had been out or how much time had passed since the senate building had caved in on itself—minutes? Hours? All she knew was that she ached from head to toe. There was a relentless pounding in her skull that threatened to drive her mad, and the lasting effects of the Dark Side, its cold grasp coiled around her neck, lingered. A pain in her back urged her into a seated position, large chunks of concrete beneath her. She could hear smaller chunks sliding off of her as she moved, but she still couldn't see a thing, so she reached for her lightsaber.

The Chalactan panicked when her hand didn't find purchase. The hilt did not hang from her belt, where it should have been. Then the events that led up to the cave in washed over her in waves, and she frowned. It felt as if a piece of her was missing, as if she'd lost an old friend. Samara had forged that blade herself as a young Padawan. She remembered it like it was yesterday—traveling to Ilum, hearing the violet Kyber crystal call to her for the first time. They hadn't parted since. Now it was gone. Most likely forever.

She wasn't much of a Jedi—a Jedi that couldn't save the people she'd been sent to rescue, that couldn't stand up to a Sith, and that didn't even have a lightsaber. She wanted to break down and cry right then and there, to curl up in a ball amongst the rubble and hide from her failure, but there was still a battle raging up above. Pale, shaking hands reached blindly in the dark, beginning to remove the larger debris that held her in place. @Sreeya

 

Altair Din

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Altair moved more debris out of the way and squinted in the darkness, finally adjusting enough to use Force Sight. He looked around as he heard some movement, making out the profile of the girl from earlier. He sighed and rolled his eyes. Of course she survived… he shook his head and finally stumbled out of the pile of debris, glancing up to look for ways out.

As he looked back towards the girl, he noticed she wasn’t moving. He felt some of the sensations from her through the Force, feelings of despair and hopelessness that he often felt from civilians on battlefields. To sense it from a Jedi was strange and it gave him pause. For a few moments, he simply looked her way, internally conflicted when he didn’t expect to be. Where she thought of her role as a Jedi, he thought of his own as a Sith.

What was he first? Altair or a Sith? He thought of how he had shielded his fall and he thought of how she was an inexperienced Jedi that was likely far more injured and genuinely stuck. It was Sith to abandon and walk away, but was it Altair to do so? The tiefling gritted his teeth, taking a few more steps away from the girl.

He thought of Clove - a Jedi he had grown to care for. In the end, she chose Jedi instead of Clove. So why should he choose Altair instead of Sith? Trusting Clove only got him thrown into a New Alderaan prison with rebels attempting to saw his horns off. He began to wonder who he was as a man and what defined him. His ambitions clashed with how his parents raised him. His role conflicted against his principles. Damn it! Why wasn't the girl trying to kill him first? Why did she look afraid?

Many moments later, the Jedi girl would be surprised to feel a rather large chunk of debris that wouldn’t budge moving away. Altair could only see her profile through the Force and his helmet was back on his head, though slightly dented. He didn’t say a word, stepping back only after all the debris was off her. He turned away and started half stumbling away again.

“Don’t jump on me again,” He growled quietly, “Or I will kill you,” Altair added without looking back, his tone suggesting that he was dead serious.

@llamallove
 

Samara Draven

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Sound was to be expected. The senate building might have already collapsed, but the dust had yet to settle, sludge and rock shifting beneath the weight of the displaced structure. This was more than just the sound of transposing rubble, however. It was movement. Her eyes hadn't adjusted to the dark yet, nor were they likely to, but even without her lightsaber she still possessed her greatest weapon—the Force. She could sense someone nearby, a darkness far more unsettling than the gloomy chasm she found herself in.

A shiver ran down the length of her spine, realizing just what—or rather who—the darkness surrounded. He hadn't died in the collapse either, as much as she hoped he had, and he was walking toward her, feet scraping against metal beams and shattered plaster. Samara couldn't run, and not just because she didn't have the strength. She was stuck, and there wasn't enough time to free herself from the wreckage. Not before he reached her. Burrowing beneath it was pointless, as she knew she couldn't hide. If she could sense him, he could almost certainly sense her. He'd already proven that he was more experienced.

The Chalactan held her breath, just waiting for the Sith to lunge at her out of the shadows, but he never did. The largest chunk of rubble that had held her in place began to shift, and she was able to move her legs again. The silhouette of his horns was all she could make out as he warned her not to jump on him again. She would've, if just to go out fighting, but she could already hear the Sith stumbling away from her. Unless this was some kind of trick, a ploy to draw her in and finish her off, he had no intention of killing her. For now. Otherwise he would've struck her where she lay, pinned beneath the rock, practically defenseless.

Perhaps the Sith had begun to take Jedi prisoners after all, under the orders of their new Sith Empress. Surely that, she imagined, was a fate worse than death. Trembling fingers reached for the nearest solid object she could find, just in case. A galvanized pipe, no longer than her forearm. She stashed it behind her back, her other hand using a metal joist to pull herself up. The Chalactan swayed back and forth, teetering on the edge of a collapse, her legs as solid as jello.

What did she do now? She didn't have her lightsaber. She couldn't see a thing. She could hardly even stand up straight. If she tried to attack him now, he'd most assuredly kill her. He'd said so. "What am I? Your prisoner?" she finally asked, her voice still hoarse. She'd die before she'd be carted away to rot in a Sith prison, awaiting her execution. It would've been easier if he'd just kill her now, rather than to play this game of cat and mouse. @Sreeya

 
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