Ask Invasion Sith Invasion of Taris

[Soren Rel]

Soren's saber was deflected down and pulled away from his center. The following counter-attack was the obvious one but Soren had little space to move. As he dodged back and to the left, Stolas' blade grazed the right side of Soren's chest under his arm as Vahn attacked to Soren's right.

With Stolas' right side facing Soren and the Jedi Knight's leftward motion brought him around behind Stolas. He stepped forward, chopping down with his blade in front of him aiming at the center of Stolas.

@Mr. Teatime @The Steel Stag

 

[Vizim]

Two force-users doing battle was truly a beautiful thing to see. Grace, agility, precision, slashes, and weaves. Or at least, that was the case of many fights. Many fights Vizim had been in. This was not one of them. This was ugly and gritty.

He drew blood, but she was quick to respond. Driving her knee up into his knee meant that his leg went up and out rather than being stuck to the ground. This allowed give that kept his knee from shattering, but even so his hip went wide and his balance was lost. He was very nearly forced into the splits before catching himself, but he felt pain shoot up the outside of his hip.

He fell to his other knee, which slammed into the ground, but quickly turned that to his advantage. With both sabers still locked in place, he launched himself upward from his bent leg and slammed himself upward in a full tackle designed to knock her from her feet and knock the wind out of her, driving her back into the ground.

His breath was coming heavily already, and that hint of desperation was there. It was excitement and fear. There was no toying with his prey or smooth attacks, it was all about victory at any cost. And he knew that cost would be high.

@Valen Pelora

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan's right-hand blade, still well within Soren's lowered guard and pointing under his arm after only grazing his chest, suddenly extended from one to two meters as the Jedi moved to retreat from immediate striking range. Crimson plasma, now with nearly a meter out past Soren's body, flicked upwards to sever his weapon arm near the shoulder. It followed smoothly through by whipping down and right diagonally to burn wholly through Soren from right shoulder to left hip before retracting to a normal length, right arm coming back in toward his waist with blade on guard.

The strike came just after the thrust and well before Soren could edge around the Sith's right side or begin his chop, violently interrupting the Jedi's plans of a flank attack. Morgan was quite tired of the man's game of 'Ring Around the Sith Lord' and wanted it permanently done and over with.

Vahn's target had to be swung toward past the left-hand guard that still faced him. Morgan squared his hips forward and his right foot stepped back to once again swap sides from right to left foot forward. He rose his left-hand guard up in parry as his right arm whipped down and right. The blade twisted, tip dipped diagonally down as the weapon rose vertically up and forward to stop the cut short. Both blades would impact, red's lower section pushing against blue's upper end, crackling and flashing around chest level. Morgan's right foot hit the ground a moment later.

@The Steel Stag @Raydo

 

[Bir Vuul]

Bir was taken entirely by surprise as the humming axe in the hands of the Mandalorian blasted him in his abdomen. The impact pushed him backward, the downward angle throwing him from his feet as he skidded along the Tarisian platform. As Vraes would reach out to grab Bir by his arm however, he would come up empty handed. Bir was entirely out of range of his grasp as it was, the axe being an extension of the Mandalorian's arm. The repulsion itself would only further the distance between them and make such a grapple impossible.

Coming to a stop a few meters farther than he already was, Bir’s thighs and calves burned as the muscles attempted to halt something that was beyond their strength but he was far from out of this fight.

The Kel Dor knew he had limited time. Reaching his left hand aside to coil the Force around debris of the battle to his left and sending it flying in Vraes direction, Bir would hurry to his feet and raise his saber to defend himself against whatever counter assault the Mandalorian would undoubtedly make.

@Rhogar​

 

[Soren Rel]

Stolas' blade was moving backward as part of his initial thrust even as Soren was moving to the left. As the Sith Lord extended his blade and swiped upwards Soren's movement carried him clear from the blades path, singing his sleeve but leaving his flesh unharmed.

As Soren stepped into chop, the blade was knocked offcourse when the Sith Lords blade glanced off his right side. Soren's blade swung down in a glancing strike, connecting with Stolas' right side.

Soren's blade remained ready to defend himself as he took another step to his left, continuing his leftward circle around the Sith Lord.

@Mr. Teatime @The Steel Stag

 

[Alexandria Voran]

The Sith was nearly sent to the ground. Alex’s knee connecting solidly. She felt the brief flashes of pain in the Force. There was no satisfaction as the man went to one knee on the ground. No burst of pride. She had no time for such thoughts. This was no elegant duel but a war for survival. A war she intended to win. The Sith launched himself almost the exact same moment he fell. Their blades were still locked together but the force of his movements was extraordinary.

Alex was tired. Physically, emotionally, in her soul. Blood still dripped down the side of her face. At this moment, she no longer possessed the strength to stand firm. Instead, she felt the Sith hammer forward. He pushed against her blade and Alex began to tip back, her arms wavering, her breath catching. She let her knees buckle as Vizim surge forward. Her left hand moving to brace her fall. Just he was about to finish his move and land on her, Alex summoned the last of her strength in the Force. The Force blast forth from her left hand, palm flipping up, aimed directly at the Sith’s chest. She aimed to slam him off of her and directly into the wall behind them.

The Jedi Master would still crash into the ground, breath driven from her lungs, and robes tattering around her.

@Phoenix

 

[Vahn Berand]

One moment. All Vahn needed was one moment, one opening to exploit. He could end this. He could almost taste it. It was near, and he kept his senses open to catch the signs he needed. Vahn saw it when Soren moved to void the first cut Stolas made against him.

Stolas’ left-hand saber had blocked Vahn’s first cut, and he stepped in, a short gathering step powered by his back leg that pushed him further into the Councilor’s range. At the same time, he turned his wrist slightly leftwards, crossing his saber with Stolas’ as he pushed in till both sabers were both locked up about the middle; neither having advantage in the bind. The Force flooded his body, enhancing his strength to allow him to bind up strongly with the other saber at least for a few precious moments. If Stolas tried to simply disengage that saber Vahn would have enough pressure to respond. This also shortened the distance between himself and Stolas considerably as Soren’s blade came down on him.

It was then that his left hand moved into action. As Soren’s stroke found purchase he locked his saber with that beam of crimson energy to prevent a downward cut, and then he gripped his second saber, silver highlighted with brass, dangling near his belt on his right hip. At this distance sunlight yellow flared into existence immediately into a short, quick horizontal cut towards the socket of the Councilor’s left hip, the blade extending beyond a considerable distance. The blade would, if it found purchase, shear through the Councilor’s nearly from one hip to the other before terminating in a warding guard ready to defend against the saber in Stolas’ right hand.

@Mr. Teatime @Raydo

 

[Vraes Trenessar]

Once the repulsor fired, Vraes was already moving. He couldn't let the Sithling recover, nor could he give him a chance to breathe. The Sith had taken quite the tumble, and the tumble meant time. Valuable time for Vraes to dart forward and close the distance, hopefully putting the Sith down.

As the Sith extended his arm and lifted his guard, the Mandalorian would slide, his speed carrying him mostly to safety yet the debris would still fly over his head. He would then swing his axe upwards, beneath the Siths guard, in a one-handed leftsided backhand swing with the weapon aimed for the Kel Dor's midsection. With the limb as damaged as it was, it was hardly going to be his strongest swing, but Vraes knew that for him, time was of the essence.

@Tulos

 

[Vizim]

If he had had time to think, he would have been quite happy that he had managed to drive her to the ground, but at this point instinct and training was doing everything for him. Thought had little to do with it. For instance, he barely recalled hitting the ignition on his saber to deactivate it, but he did to avoid cutting himself in the ensuing melee.

He was already reaching down for the blaster at his hip to shove it into the Jedi's side and finish the fight when he felt the force of the Force hit him. It hit like a hammer, slamming him upwards and over top of her. His back hit the wall on the other side and it was only through sheer reflex that he got his hands up to avoid landing directly on his head when he came down.

Even so, the impact with the torn up concrete shredded his forearms, leaving gashes that began trickling warm blood down his arms. He coughed as he tried to wheeze in air, but it came with more difficulty as he rolled over to face his adversary. He would have liked to say the movements were smooth or graceful, but they weren't. Exhaustion was already clinging to him and he could tell from the look on the Jedi's face that she was feeling the same.

Down in the mud. Bet no one would even be able to tell who was the Jedi and who was the Sith now, he said, pushing himself back up onto all fours. Yeah, he totally still had the will to fight. Uh-huh. Well, he wasn't going to quit now.

@Valen Pelora

 

[Bir Vuul]

Bir watched as Vraes moved in on him, the sound of his armour scraping against the duracrete cutting through the blare of battle in the distance, but that would be the Mandalorian’s downfall. His position so close to the ground would leave him vulnerable and Bir would not let this opportunity pass.

As Vraes neared, his axe pulled back then cast across his own torso to aim for the Kel Dor’s abdomen, Bir would spin the hilt in his right hand to angle his saber downward with the intent to catch the edge of his foes weapon while he stepped to the left and turned to face the warrior as he slid by. Beskar would meet plasma and sparks flew as the Acolyte pushed his hilt forward, the edge of the axe passing its intended target. However as Bir continued to push the blade ahead of himself in hopes of cleaving through Vraes’ chest, the head of Tiaor’shukur would instead sink it’s edge into the elbow of the acolyte’s prosthetic, leaving a shallow gash in it’s surface and damaging some of the circuitry within. Had it been an organic arm, it would have been painful. For this, Bir would find himself actually fortunate for the injuries Kor’Bishal had inflicted so long ago.

The injury would not prevent Bir’s blade from finding it’s target however as the crimson plasma burned through the steel plating on Vraes’ chest. It was not as deep as the Kel Dor had intended but it would ultimately serve its purpose. As the Mandalorian came to a stop, smoke billowing from his fresh wound, Bir placed his foot on the warrior’s helmet and turned his visor to face him. He was subdued. The Acolyte did not need to see his face to confirm it.

”You chose the wrong side, little Mandalorian! We could have been great friends, you and I! But you and your ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ chose... the wrong... side!” Bir taunted with a cackle, wrapping the Force around Vraes' limp body and lifting him into the air, goggled eyes meeting those behind the Mandalorian T. ”But fear not! Your new friends shall join you shortly! Be patient!” With that, the Kel Dor pulled his left hand back slightly before catapulting the unconscious Mando away from the scene of battle. Turning to face the remaining Jedi as they fought against Bir’s own family of sorts, he raised his blade and took a step forward.

@Rhogar​

 

[Darth Stolas]

Vahn wasn't the only one waiting for an opening, and the Jedi were fighting a Sith Councilor who could react quickly and call on his Dark powers at a moment's notice. As his cut struck Soren during the Jedi's step in, Morgan stepped back by pushing off his front left foot and moving his right back to maintain more distance between Vahn and himself, hips moving with it and back right leg coiling. The Force suddenly whirled through and then exploded from Stolas while Vahn took his gathering step in.

From his left fist, the wielded lightsaber binding his and the Force-strengthened Vahn's together between them, a blast of telekinetic energy would rush into Vahn's torso and cross-body left arm with enough power to break bone and send him careening many meters backwards, a close range burst of concussive force the gathering step was sent him right into. It could stifle the draw and, if undefended by the already concentrating Jedi, shatter the arm and crack ribs in its path. In that same moment Morgan's backward step became a swift and horizontal leap six meters back, legs tucking up and back, away from the two Jedi who were still diagonally in 'front' of him and disengaging from Vahn's attempt at a blade lock.

Stolas' sudden movement didn't prevent Soren's chop from glancing into his right side and if Vahn's draw cut continued through the telekinetic attack it would similarly scrape across Morgan's left hip. His right-hand blade still snapped back into a guard in Soren's direction, keeping between himself and the Jedi's weapon, while the left remained toward Vahn to ward off any potential follow-through.

Morgan's leap would end with his boots skidding on the street to slide quickly back into full stance. Feet shoulder width apart, left forward, right back and slightly right, torso angled diagonally to the side. His right-hand hilt sat at hip level a forearm's length away to his right, with the blade up at 45 degrees forward guarding across his body, while the left would settle in front of him at waist height at the same 45 degree angle.

@The Steel Stag @Raydo

 

[Alexandria Voran]

“I don’t care.” The words dripped from Alex’s mouth. She barely recognized her own voice. Where in her heart did those thoughts live? The Sith stood on shaky legs, battered, and beaten. The Jedi Master matched him. She spit another glob of blood and flehm on the duracrete. Slowly, she stood, pushing herself off the ground. Her splintered shins ached. Her side groaned with every twist. Her breath was short and ragged, the bruise on her chest spreading into her lungs. A sharp pain grew when she reached her feet. A broken rib. What was worse, her soul was spent. The Force had taken nearly all that remained of her strength. Alex swayed. Her gaze locked on the Sith…eyes cold. They were near the cliff. Neither would fold, even if it meant they both tipped over. “They’ll only remember who won…not how.” Careful Alex.

Her saber spun in her hand. She took a step forward, the Force gathering around her. That was when the com buzzed. A brief chime sounded in her ear. She stopped. Stunned. “This is a planetary wide emergency broadcast. Lay down your weapons, seek shelter, the fight is over.” Had the Sith retreated? Stolas still fought Vahn and Soren. The message blaring on loudspeakers all around them in conjunction with the coms. “For the good of Taris we have surrendered. As a show of good faith, the Jedi are now enemy combatants and must be removed with prejudice.” White hot anger spiked through her soul. Betrayal. The oligarchs had surrendered, throwing them out into the cold, and now they thought to sacrifice them to Stolas. Alex grabbed hold of the boiling frustration to shove it down. She was not so lost to forget her teachings.

Her eyes whipped around. They were suddenly extremely outnumbered. They could not fight the Sith and Taris. Soren and Vahn stood tall, but Vraes was on the ground. Alex’s chin tipped skyward. They needed time. The Morellian Jedi Master brought all the strength she had left forth. She plunged into the Force becoming a torrent of the Light. The river of the Lightside poured through her soul. Her left hand reached up, searching for the sky. Please. Taris answered. Thunder cracked, winds whipped, and clouds began to swirl above. Lighting raced across the sky in broad strokes.

Alex slammed her hand towards the ground. The Force flowing through her into the duracrete. Lightning followed, zipping into the ground all around them, seeking Vizim, Stolas and Bir. Anything that was not a Jedi. Rain swept forward in a torrential downpour. Thunder booming all around. Alex began to make her way towards Vraes and the edge of street. Her mind searched for her companions. “Ground yourself…we need to go! Now!” Her legs wobbled, her heart raced, it was an impossible task to move one foot after the other. Her strength was failing…only a few more moments.

OOC: Start of agreed ending

@Phoenix @Tulos @Mr. Teatime @The Steel Stag @Rhogar @Raydo

 

[Vraes Trenessar]

Vraes could feel the blade of his axe bite into the elbow of the Sith, though the strength in that arm faltered, all but drained from the severe burns across the limb. The crimson saber would start to bite into his cuirass, stopped only by the arrival of Vraes' right bracer. The shoulder screamed from the pressure and he felt the heat of the crimson blade.

In his heart, he knew that the close battle was a result of Stolas having focused him over the Jedi Master or Knights Berand and Rel, and he had been able to hold the Acolyte for a time, despite how damaged he was. So when he felt the heat, he knew the time was up, but instead of penetrating, the heat would lance across the cuirass, scorching the skin beneath, thankfully cauterizing the wound in the process.

Where this fight had been a key part, it wasn't the main focus. The Jedi and their allies had stalled long enough for those seeking to evacuate to leave. The world may be lost, but they had won the battle of the soul. He had been getting reports from his men during the entire battle, children were being safely escorted off-world, survivors from a crash, the part of the fighting that truly mattered. So when the darkness claimed him, he wasn't scared. He didn't feel the duracrete when he hit it after the throw.

The Mandalorians that fought outside the center would begin to move to collect the wounded, two would hoist Vraes between them as the roar of three Kom'rk class transports could be heard overhead. Two were already loaded with refugees and injured and made their way to the atmosphere, while the third made its way to the Jedi and Vraes. None of the pilots or those aboard would be able to believe the way the lightning arced around the ships, as if it knew not to target them.

Their evac ship would hover, its ramp lowered and a handful of Mandalorians would descend it to quickly recover the wounded Jedi. One Mandalorian would pull one of Alex's arms over her shoulder to support her weight and begin to guide her back to the craft. The two Mandalorians aboard the ramp would fire slugthrowers at the Sith and their troopers to lay down suppressive fire for the retreat. Once Vraes and the all the Jedi were aboard, the craft would take off, racing for the atmosphere.

Aboard the ship, what meagre medical supplies they had would be doled out, and the Jedi would each be seated in the main hold while medics began to make the rounds. The two other ships had already entered hyperspace and made their escapes, now it was their turn.


---

OOC: Jedi Departure, Don't worry, we'll get them next time, bois.

@Raydo @Valen Pelora @Braden Drake @The Steel Stag

 

[Soren Rel]

As he was about to step back into engaging the Sith Lord, the Force tugged at his senses. He leaped back as blaster fire cut the space he had just occupied. As he looked around, blocking several blaster bolts he saw the battle was over.

The planet's defense forces had surrendered and Sith Forces had begun pouring towards their position, unhindered. In moments they would be overrun.

The Mandalorian drop ship was the only thing between capture or death for the remaining Jedi. Fighting defensively, he retreated to the ship, standing near the landing as his fellow Jedi joined before climbing aboard. He disengaged his lightsaber as the ramp started to close, breathing heavily.

He collapsed just inside the ship. He had taken several injuries from either being thrown or directly from a lightsaber. He leaned his head back against the ship's bulkhead as they withdrew.

OOC: Exit Post

 

[Vahn Berand]

Before Vahn could bring his second saber up he could feel Stolas’ dark power welling up before him. He aborted this attack, and rolled his hand up to shield his body from the sudden thrust of telekinetic might from the Councilor. He shielded himself, a narrow barrier manifesting between the two Force users, but he couldn’t bring up a full defense so quickly against Stolas. Vahn winced as he felt something snap deep inside his arm and he was sent stumbling back as Stolas leapt away. His right pant leg was stained with a deep shade of red from the repeated movement of the deep wound.

Even hobbled as he was, he kept his azure saber directed towards the Councilor. He was preparing another attack when he heard it; the announcement of surrender through the comms whispering in his ear.

Vahn’s eyes widened. How? No, he knew how. He should have known. Even though they were fighting for Taris. Even though one of Taris’ own were fighting. The Oligarchs, the ones with the real political power on the planet wouldn’t have seen this struggle as anything but an annoyance, a bothersome obstacle in their games. In fact, they’d probably prefer this outcome. This whole thing, this whole effort was just a side show, wasn’t it? Just a token display to shake off criticism. He’d been away from Taris for too long, he’d forgotten the games the powerful could play when they’d already stacked every deck in their favor.

Vahn swore. Already blaster fire was starting to pour in on his location. He awkwardly defended himself, deflecting bolts one-armed. There would be no victory here. He was exhausted. He could feel something had broken deep in his left arm, agony kept at bay with the thin membrane of adrenaline and the pulse of the Force. Blue eyes darted back and forth as he scanned the battlefield. Vraes and Soren were already on their way out. He had to hope that Yvain could take care of himself, where-ever he was. Then he saw her. Alex, slowly making way towards safety while her strength was visibly giving out. A moment stretched into a thousand for him. He saw it again, her body silhouetted against the flames of battle, the bunker’s door slowly closing in front of her as she turned away. He could feel the cold stone on his hands once more, the bite of rubble and debris as he tried to crawl towards her.

No. No, not again.

Vahn’s body blurred into motion once more, stopping behind Master Voran. His voice was inarticulate, pained cries punctuated by animalistic snorts as he forced his left arm into motion. His eyes were wild, agony and betrayal boiling up inside of him, pulsing into his body like blood. Through the Force he wouldn’t feel like a Jedi should. Not at this time, not at this moment. His passions threatened to break the carefully crafted mental guard rails he had constructed over the years. Fury welled up in his belly and he became a thing of action.

His yellow saber snapped into existence in his left hand, the two blades whirling. Sunlight and the deep ocean were in his hands, catching, deflecting blaster fire from the advancing Sith forces as they crowded past the Taris security. He was forced to move in a wide arc around Alex, his twin sabers, Arias’ and his own, cutting tight paths through the air to intercept any attacks intended for his fellow Jedi. He knew he couldn’t keep this up forever. But maybe, just maybe he could-

His thoughts broke, and his stance buckled as a stray bolt tore through his thigh. Vahn hissed a breath and stumbled, just barely on his feet. That last bolt had done it. He could feel the exhaustion seeping in, the pulse of the Force increasingly distant. In the distance he could see another Sith trooper raising his rifle. With both of his arms low he knew it was unlikely he’d be able to respond in time.

Then, there was a sharp crack in the air behind him, and Vahn watched as the trooper collapsed into a heap on the ground. Vahn blinked, stunned for a moment before reality came back to him in the form of the armored arms of one of the Mandalorians seizing him from behind.

“Alex! Make sure to get her!” Vahn shouted, a single, maddened thought in his head.

“It’s alright; we’ve got her, we’ve got her, Jedi!” the voice from behind urged, and Vahn felt himself being dragged into the relative security of the small Mandalorian landing zone, and practically thrown into the ship.

He stumbled, and then he felt his connection with the Force fully dissipate, exhaustion and injury having clouded his mind. He clamped his right hand onto his thigh; first cut into with Stolas’ saber to where the faintest hint of bone could be seen, and then gouged clear through with a stray blaster bolt. Vahn crumpled against the hull as the ship took off, hissing in tight breaths as his face was contorted in a deep grimace of pain.

His thoughts had run dry by this point, overcrowded and outmatched by the pain in his body, the fatigue dragging him to the ground, as if the gravity of Taris itself had magnified ten fold. All he had left was the brief, momentary thought of relief as he saw Alex had been pulled into the same ship as it took off, and then exhaustion claimed him.

OOC: Should complete the Jedi withdrawal from this thread.

 

[Vizim]

Vizim snorted in reply to the Jedi woman's statement. Woman after my own heart, he said, the statement likely to cut deeper than any of the injuries she had sustained today. There was total conviction behind it. What she had said was precisely something he would have said, and it made him realize just how close she was to the Dark Side. He wondered if she understood that it would take the most minute of shoves to make her like him.

The sound of the announcement came over the speakers, and Vizim let out a hoarse laugh. Fight for them and they stab you in the back, he said, irony thick in the air.

The Jedi began to retreat, and amidst that retreat came blasterfire and lightning. He knew he was tiring. His body hurt and his reserves in the Force were decreased enough that he knew continuing to pursue was unwise. Instead, he leapt for the cover of the closest building and took cover inside as lightning tore down from the sky, rain began to pour, and blasterfire ripped over the open ground.

He put out a hand to steady himself against the wall as he watched. He watched the small remnant of the battle unfold, watched the remaining - now betrayed - defenders flee from the battle, and he watched the building that contained the traitorous aristocrats of this world. Cowards.

The pain and fatigue began to seize him as the adrenaline ran its course. A trip back to his ship would no doubt be followed by bacta, food, and then a long night of sleep. He thought he had earned it.

@Valen Pelora

 

[Bir Vuul]

As Bir prepared to advance on another defender of Taris, everything was about to come to a conclusion. He could feel the shift in the Force, the approaching echo of allies turning on one another in a single swift moment and focusing sights on those who would defend their homes. That was when the call came out across the battlefield from the Tarisian Nobles, changing the fate of their people and granting the Sith the victory they would have earned regardless. It was over.

Bir watched in delight as the Jedi and their Mandalorian auxiliaries began to fall back, collecting their fallen and boarding the transports to escape their demise. How proud he was to have taken part in this endeavor, to see it through and to have done so under the eye of a member of the Dark Council. The Kel Dor wasn’t satisfied however. Not entirely.

Reaching his left hand up to coil the Force around those that fled, hoping to pull them back to endure the fate that had been destined for them, a sudden tug at the back of his mind indicated the danger that was forthcoming. Claps of thunder could be heard as the winds of Taris picked up, the Force whispering to the Acolyte to move out of harms way. With a grimace, he would oblige his instincts and leapt backwards just as a bolt of lightning struck the ground where he had once stood. He had avoided the current’s direct strike but the electrically charged air managed to overload the circuits in his arm, the exposed wiring soon becoming fried and forcing his arm to hang limp at his side, his lightsaber dropping to the ground.

Bir would scurry into cover of a burning building's foyer, forced to watch as the Jedi and Mandalorians successfully fled. Reaching his left arm forward, his right entirely useless until he could see a tech, he pulled his weapon to him and growled.

”Run and hide, little Jedi. We will find you again,” the Acolyte whispered his taunt to no one, though he could feel the despair of the man he once was, caged in his mind and forced to watch what had transpired here.

 

[Darth Stolas]

Darth Stolas was quite suddenly in a remarkably foul mood. He'd been prepared to continue dueling the two Jedi with the full strength he could bring to bear, a fanged grin on his face behind the visor. Vahn had shielded himself but keen ears picked up the distinct wet pop of breaking bone and Morgan smelled blood in air.

Then there was the broadcast. The oligarchs announced their surrender and Sith officers reported the same through his comm line. They offered full resistance, burning lives away to nothing, only to bend the knee the moment victory was uncertain? This was now a Sith victory, a conquered world, and yet-

Morgan Drast was furious. Those sensitive to such things would feel the heat of it in the air even as the Jedi Master called out to the vast skies of Taris. Both lightsabers were returned to his belt, and as Alex called, he sang. Not so simply with his voice, but instead, with the Dark power he wielded. Thunder boomed, rain whipped, and lightning fell. He had not expected a Jedi to resort to a darker usage of the Force, but he supposed such hypocrisy was their way, after all.

Arms raised just before a flash to intercept the streaking energy in the palms of his hands, limbs bending downward with the force and sleeves smoking from stray arcs. With both hands he caught it, with his will he shaped it, with his fury he intensified it. And when it was ready, it flew through the curtains of rain like a shining lance, the light of it illuminating his figure amidst the storm.

Not at the Jedi this time but at the interlopers who'd swooped in to save them. Morgan's bolt split into twin forks to strike the two slugthrower-wielding Mandalorians across the chest and burn out their hearts before the ramp closed. Stolas would remember this interference and the plate-wearing man who lead it.

The escaping ships would be chased all the way to escaping by Storm Squadron, but they got away regardless. Morgan snarled and turned to the command center they'd been defending. Darth Stolas stepped through heavy gates that opened for him, some of his black-armoured soldiers following in behind. Black boots marched down the hall and up stairs to the room the oligarchs had been hiding in. One began to speak, then another, platitudes and assurances and attempts at negotiation.

"Be silent," he commanded with a voice filled with power, the sound carrying his will along with it to quiet them. The dark visor slowly looked across the collection of old and well-dressed men and women who had run Taris for quite some time, fear and trepidation on their well-wrinkled faces. There would need to be changes, and much work to be done, and Morgan had very little fondness for this particular group of people. But, for now...

"You have chosen wisely."

They had surrendered. Morgan Drast always kept his word.​

​