Ask Invasion Sith Invasion on Dantooine

Aadya Rasheer

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Sith Empire
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Logan
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Aadya was almost impressed with how resolute Thelian was. Despite his numerous injuries, the Jedi never lost his will to live or to fight. Some people would call it brave. Aadya would have called him stupid.

She felt the tendrils of Thelian wrap around her ankle and, to her surprise, another force start to go for her hair at the same time. The latter was a cowardly attack befitting of a Jedi, if she were being honest. The sudden pull on her head caused Aadya to fall backwards.

She felt her ankle turn, but thanks to falling, Aadya's feet were off the ground which let her turn her body with it as much as she could. While preventing it from breaking entirely, Aadya could still feel the throbbing radiating up her leg. She pressed it hard into the dirt, the pain causing a knot to form in her cheek as she gritted her teeth hard enough Aadya was surprised they didn't shatter into dust.

Nevertheless, Aadya warily stood up, her good ankle bearing the the majority of her weight. That is when she saw the other Jedi, the Zabrak, behind Thelian. Aadya's eyes darted between them, her mind slow to catch up on what exactly that meant. Fear coalesced into a molten ball of slag that laid heavy in her gut. She gripped her lightsaber tightly, knuckles turning as pale as her face as the color slowly drained out.

The full realization of what was now reality seemed to creep up on Aadya in slow motion. In the distance she could see the body of Xeno lying beaten and broken on the ground. She looked to the other side of the battlefield and saw another, the Jester man. He looked limp and from this distance, Aadya could not tell if he was breathing.

She couldn't see Raze, not through Thelian. But if the Darth were still alive, surely the Zabrak would have aided that fight instead of this one. What was the life of an acolyte over that of someone like Darth Raze - it made no sense.

That left only one real answer: Perhaps the Sith had failed. That Aadya was the only one of them left standing.. that now, staring down mortal enemies, she was entirely and without question, completely on her own. In this moment of cognizance, Aadya's breathing stayed even despite the thrum of anxiety vibrating her entire being.

Aadya slid her feet into the best defensive posture she could muster, her lightsaber held in front of her. If she were going to die, it wouldn't be on the ground, clawing at the dirt while she fled. She wouldn't be like the Sephi Jedi.

The only thing on Aadya's mind now other than her own impending death was Morgan. She only hoped he wouldn't be too disappointed in her failure.


@Altaris @Nefieslab @Sreeya
 

Emryc Thorne

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For all intents and purposes Aadya was alone. The civilians had been evacuated and there was an eerie silence that fell as she gazed up at the two Jedi. That silence was broken only by what appeared to sound like dragging. They were footsteps, but they were encumbered. There was the sound of slightly labored breathing coming from a modulated helmet.

There would be an icy chill that would extend out across every blade of grass and through the air. It would frost the very tips of the grass and release the breaths of the Jedi and Aadya in a fog. It was a chill that would creep up all of their spine and the Jedi would feel a suffocating force compressing against the Light they clung to so desperately. It was the aftermath of the Force Drain Raze was inflicting upon all the wounded soldiers on the field to sap them and replenish himself.

From Aadya’s perspective she would suddenly see both Jedi abruptly lifted into the air and suspended there. They were bodily held by the Force to where they wouldn’t be able to move their limbs. They hung in the air with only their faces capable of making expressions. The sound of someone limping and dragging a foot was heard moments before a tall, looming figure slowly appeared between the two suspended Jedi.

The visor gazed directly down at Aadya. After a moment, the helmeted head cocked just slightly to the side as if to say ‘sorry I’m late’, entirely unconcerned about the Jedi strung up in the air like puppets. The Sith Lord had one arm on his abdomen injury, the other at his side. He kept his visor on Aadya as he flicked his hand slightly. The impact was far more dramatic as it sent both Jedi hurtling full force to the side and far away from the action. They would slam harshly to the ground. If they were smart, they would stay down. If they got up, Raze would butcher them, and both men would know that.

The Sith Lord began to take slow steps towards the base. However he paused for a moment, a saber hilt drawn from his hip and flying into his hand. His fingers twirled the hilt around for a few moments before he casually tossed it towards Aadya. Without a single word, he strode right past her and towards the base to bring it down to ash.

And so Aadya became the first acolyte in history to own a saber that had belonged to both a legendary Sith Councilor and then a Jedi Councilor.

@Logan @Nefieslab @Altaris
 

Aadya Rasheer

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Sith Empire
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Aadya felt the change in the air immediately, her eyes widening in a strange mix of curiosity and dread. It was like winter gale, breath taking and dizzying, creeping in from all corners of Dantooine. It was a bitch wind, razor-sharp and cutting, and it blew bad and cold.

Her measured breaths from before rattled out of Aadya's mouth now, little plumes of condensation escaping into the air and hanging like misshapen ghosts. Goosebumps prickled across her skin, the sweat that had been covering her brow slowly freezing over sent chills that ran the entire way down her spine. It should have scared her.

But it didn't.

Aadya's eyes followed both of the Jedi as they rose into the air, seemingly tied up by invisible strings. Their faces betrayed their lack of movement, evident fear and surprise contorting and spinning across their features like water cycloning down a drain.

It was then that Aadya saw him. The hulking figure clad in armor, looming even in the distance. Aadya could see him holding his side, clearly injured, his footsteps plodding and his gait uneven. Darth Raze was still alive, and he had shown just in time to be her salvation.

Once Raze had entered Aadya's vision her gaze never left his face. Her eyes locked to his behind his visor, she noted the way he tilted his head and he reminded her of Morgan in that way - saying all that needed to be said without wasting the time to say the words. She caught the saber he tossed without a word, knowing the gravity of the gesture even if she didn't know the history of the weapon she now held in her hands.

As the Darth silently moved past her and headed towards the base, Aadya simply followed him. Not following behind like her station might dictate, but by his side. For these fleeting moments they were equals. Damaged but unbroken, having succeeded where all of the others had failed.

The only two Sith left standing on the battlefield of Dantooine.

@Sreeya
 

Crix Aran

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Jedi Order
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Crix staggered forward mid-step.

He didn’t need to turn toward the two Councillor-level combatants to know what had happened – he didn’t need to see it actually happen because he could feel it. A burst of heat lancing through him strongly enough that he glanced down, half expecting to see a bright red lightsaber running him through instead of just feeling it like some phantom blade tearing through his heart.

The emotions he could feel were no longer his own for a moment as the bond between Master and Padawan, a bond mostly gone through lack of use, flared up once more in its death throes. In Hannibal’s death throes.

Emotions of his Master as he realized that death was coming for him – BetrayalShockHorrorRegretPainFEAR – and could not be evaded this time. There was no peace, no acceptance and the sudden dumping of these emotions into his mind was enough to send his mind reeling. He didn’t have time to accept that his Master… his Master was dead. His Master was dead and he didn’t even get a second to try and cope with that before the emotional backlash of Hannibal’s instinct clutching at everything, anything, to stay alive pulled on their bond.

It shattered through any mental or emotional coping measures or shields he might have had, hitting him like a second stab to the heart and leaving him gasping, choking, on raw emotion.

Being lifted into the air, suspended by the Force in some mockery of an embrace was, in some ways, actually a blessing. With his body being compressed, forced to remain still, he didn’t need to worry about just how close he had come to collapsing. Of course, he knew who was holding both himself and Thelian up with the Force.

And it Burned inside of him.

Anger and hated simmered under the surface and he could do so very little to clamp down on them as Raze dragged himself to stand between both Crix and Thelian’s suspended forms. Crix couldn’t move his limbs – couldn’t give voice to the sudden aching desire to see the Sith Lord just simply DIE for what he had done. His left hand was shaking and he was beginning to find it hard to breathe properly as he seethed, glaring down at the man.

How dare he stand there?

How dare he stand there, alive, when Hannibal wasn’t?

When Talak wasn’t?

How dare he stand there when other, better, men lay broken?

How dare the Galaxy allow the man to continue to exist?

Sailing through the air was the least of the Jedi’s problems – far more problematic was the abrupt and violent end to their flight. Even with the grip on his body, Crix coughed up blood as he was slammed against the wall of the base. His shoulder tore further and it felt like every bone in his body rattled with the force of his impacts, first with the wall and then with the ground as he fell flat onto his face.

Hands shaking in pain, Crix gripped grass and mud slick with blood both his own and foreign. He wanted to rise, he wanted to stand right back up and finish what Hannibal and Talak had started and cut down the Sith Lord Raze. To finally kill the figure of such fear within the Galaxy. But as he laid there, in as much pain physical pain as he had ever felt before with tears of impotent rage and grief pouring from his eyes, toxic, caustic anger and hate bubbling up like bile within his throat and chest…

He knew that he couldn’t.

Breath shaking as he forced himself to breathe through the whirlwind of emotions, Crix forced his right hand underneath himself and pushed. Pushed his own face out of the mud, to pull his own head up to stare across the distance.

Aadya didn’t matter.

Xeno didn’t matter.

Senin didn’t matter.

All he could see across the field was Raze standing between him and the broken body of Hannibal… his Master once so full of energy and life now snuffed out. His Master, his friend and the reason he even still had a mother after Crix himself had lost all hope.

Maybe Hans wouldn’t want it for him, maybe Talak would warn him against it and maybe the both of them would feel deeply disappointed…

But they were dead and the dead didn’t get to want or feel anything ever again.

Crix, with ears stinging with tears, throat and chest burning with acidic anger, stared across the distance between them at Raze and he swore to himself something so deeply that it seared itself into his very being.

I Will Kill You.

But to make good on that promise… he needed to live and Thelian deserved to live. The Padawan didn’t deserve any of this and if Crix couldn’t help Clove, couldn’t save Hannibal, then he would be damned if he just left the kid.

The irony was lost on him as he started using his right hand, his good arm, to bodily drag himself closer to the downed Padawan. They needed to get going, they needed to leave, to live to fight another day. If Thelian was even still alive of course but… Crix needed him to still be alive. It was selfish, in a way, but Crix needed to know that Thelian was alive, he needed to know that not everything had gone to shit and ashes.

That he could still save someone, anyone.

“T-Thelian… we gotta go.”

His voice was hoarse, as though he had been screaming even though he knew he hadn’t. Pulling himself up slightly, he would reach down to half-lift, half-drag Thelian regardless of whether the Padawan was awake, unconscious or even if he was dead.

Crix couldn’t grab Clove because he didn’t even know where she was.

Crix couldn’t drag Hannibal back with him to be cremated because of where he was.

Crix would be damned if he left Thelian.

“We gotta go… gotta go…” he repeated to himself, whispering his mantra to himself as he dragged his protesting body away with Thelian along with him, “We… gotta leave…”

Had to leave Hans where he fell…

It felt wrong to see Hannibal's ship, the ship Crix had trained on for so long, and feel even a modicum of relief but he did and he pulled himself and Thelian over the finish line, the droids firing up the ship and closing it behind them. Crix didn't have the strength to pull them any further, leaving both Jedi just slumped in the cargo hold as the ship took off for one of the many rally points Hannibal had programmed into it years ago.

Crix just sat there, slumped against the wall of the ship, staring blankly into space.

“We survived…”

Survived because Raze couldn’t muster up the energy to finish them or wanted to release them back into the wild to let them suffer more first. It didn’t matter which – they were getting out of here and Crix swore he would make sure Raze would live to regret it. But the why they were able to escape didn't matter so much as why it mattered that they continued to survive beyond just this desperate flight.

They needed to survive even if Hans hadn’t, even if Raze had and even if nothing felt right with the Galaxy anymore.

It was what he was taught.


/Exit Thread

@Altaris @Sreeya @Logan @LouJoVi @Scoobert @LilyNion @Mr. Teatime
 
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Thelian Lsai

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Altaris
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Thelian didn’t need to physically look, to know that something dire had occurred between Hannibal and Raze – recognizing a change in the air almost immediately. It manifested as a sudden shift within the Force itself, rippling outward in tumultuous waves across a tranquil lake that had been violently disturbed.

It was as if the air itself had grown a frigidly colder, sending a chill that cut to the bone. As if a passive source of warmth and tranquility that Thelian didn’t even realize was there had been snuffed out. It was gone, and the Echani knew that it was never coming back. There was no connection between the Padawan and Hannibal. Their interactions had begun and ended on this very battlefield, and Thelian truthfully felt nothing but bitterness for the half-Epicanth. Nevertheless, his death was vividly felt none the less.

It was a sensation that made every hair on the Echani’s body stand on edge, goosebumps lining his bloodied arms. It was a feeling of dread and inexplicable fear that settled into Thelian’s stomach, and it was something he bitterly tried to ignore. He tried to push it to the darkest corners of his psyche and keep his attention strictly upon Aadya.

He wanted to finish what he had started, with or without Crix’s help, regardless of what had gone on between the two Councilor-level combatants. Saber in hand, Thelian started his advance towards the Acolyte once more – bitterly pushing through the pain in his body.

He advanced, and he only made it a half step forward. Just then, Thelian felt as icy tendrils of energy coiled around his body, hoisting him several inches into the air and keeping his body frozen in place with the greatest ease. His limbs never budged or twitched, despite the boy straining for them to do so.

It was a power that the Padawan had truly witnessed before, only to now find himself on the receiving end of it. It was a bitter reminder of despite how far he had come – despite the skills and abilities that he now possessed – he was nothing but a mote of dust compared to the power wielded by the Sith Lord. It was a bitter reminder of the same sensations of powerlessness he had always known.

In that moment, held by the Sith Lord against his will, Thelian was terrified.

The feelings of raw panic and anxiety swelled within him, threatening to consume him even if he could give no voice to them. They were feelings that would’ve been deliciously obvious to the Dark-Sider’s before him, like the scent of blood in the water, and yet the boy bitterly refused to allow such emotions to manifest on the surface.

Thelian could do nothing but move his eyes, and that is exactly what he did – fixating onto Raze and ignoring every other element of his surroundings. Instead of going wide with pronounced panic, those silver eyes narrowed into harsh, critical slits – launching silent daggers at the Sith Lord who kept him suspended in the air. Bitter and defiant, the Padawan refused to give the Sith Lord the satisfaction of seeing the fear and panic etched into his pale features, regardless of what was about to happen.

He prepared for Raze to simply tighten that vice around his body, squeezing until his bones shattered into dust and his organs burst within him. He prepared for the Sith Lord to casually carve his saber through the Padawan’s body, finishing what Aadya had been unable to do.

One way or another, Thelian Lsai expected and prepared for his short life to end within moments.

Instead, with the faintest flick of Raze’s wrist, Thelian felt his body sent hurtling through the air – sailing across the open fields of Dantooine and away from the battlefield. Rather than crashing into the base itself like Crix, the Echani soared for several meters before colliding with the earth. There was a sickening crunch that resounded through the air when Thelian’s body made violent impact with the ground, followed by blinding pain that radiated from the Echani’s forearm. He didn’t need to inspect to know that the bone there had snapped from the impact.

Like a ragdoll, Thelian quite literally bounced across the dirt – his body limply rolling for several more feet before gradually coming to a halt. He ended his journey face-down in the dirt, an anguished groan passing through his lips. Unlike before, Thelian did not immediately force himself up off the ground – lingering in that position for what felt like an eternity. Exhaustion and pain washed over him in equal amounts, and the adrenaline that fueled him thus far finally could do no more.

The Echani simply wanted to go to sleep – to drift off into slumber until the aches and pains had finally subsided. He wanted to sleep until the doubt that Raze helped to manifest – doubt in the one thing Thelian could call his own – gradually left him. He wanted it, and yet the boy knew that those doubts would never leave him. They would be there each and every time he woke.

Gradually, Thelian managed to push himself onto his left side – finally prying his face up off of the ground. He could see nothing but the swaying grasses in front of him, alongside the white spots that flickered and clouded his vision. His knees slowly drew up and towards his chest until he entered into a vaguely fetal position. He wanted to do nothing more than to sleep, and yet a voice managed to keep him from unconsciousness a little while longer.

The voice was hoarse, and yet it managed to cut above the ringing in his ears with ease. It was a voice that Thelian genuinely didn’t expect to hear, and the surprise was evident on his bruised and bloodied features. It was reflected in those silver eyes when he tilted his head up to meet the Zabrak, even though not a single word passed from his lips. Just as he usual was, Thelian was completely silent, save for the meek and ragged sound of breath leaving his lungs. He was silent, and yet the same question continued to pound in his skull with the volume of a choir.

Why?

Thelian felt as the Zabrak hooked an arm around his body, dragging him along and towards the ship in the distance, even though the Echani’s feet drug behind. He witnesses the Knight go above and beyond to pull him from the battlefield, and yet Thelian couldn’t fathom the reason as to why he went through the trouble.

Truthfully, Thelian expected Crix to abandon him where he laid. He expected the Knight to use whatever strength he had to scour the field for Clove. He expected to suffer the same frigid indifference that he felt earlier in the battle. Instead, the Zabrak was here – pulling him through the mud and to safety. It demonstrating that Crix cared enough to do so, and it was a concept that was entirely foreign to the boy.

It was a gesture that spoke volumes and served to summarily cut through the frigid barriers that the boy erected around himself. It was a gesture that brought tangible wetness to his eyes, even if Thelian desperately hoped the Zabrak would attribute it to the pain he undoubtedly was feeling.

Unfortunately for Crix, the Padawan was of little assistance in moving his own body. He simply didn’t have the strength, flitting in and out of consciousness as they drew closer and closer to Hannibal’s ship. The moment they were safely within the cargo hold, Thelian simply slumped onto the ground beneath him – pressing his cheek onto the cold durasteel surface, embracing the soothing relief of the chill against his skin.

They had lived through the battle, but the significance of that fact would only truly dawn on Thelian later down the line. For the moment, the Echani wanted to nothing more than to forget everything and drift off into unconsciousness.

And so he did.


/Exit Thread

@Sreeya @Scoobert @LouJoVi @Logan @LilyNion @Mr. Teatime
 
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