Session export: Anomaly Detected - 001

For all the time Sully spent on guard duty, it wasn’t common to see real action. The generally positive atmosphere aboard the Voidbreaker II was more than welcome, and made for a more leisurely life than someone like her could have hoped to ask for. But, truth be told, she was genuinely always itching for the next chance to hit something more than a punching bag, and really hit it. So, when the news broke that she’d be halo dropping down to a planet directly into hostile action, needless to say, the thought alone put a smile on her lion-like face.

Sully knocked a hard fist against Karran’s pod next to hers. Just ahead of her, a fresh reptilian face looked to be joining them. By the look on the barabel’s face, he seemed a little cocksure, if uncertain.

“First time?” she asked, loading her weapons into her pod.

“First time for everything,” the barabel replied eagerly.

More talk would be due later; they hardly had a full minute until launch.

And what a launch it was. The feeling of one’s organs and their respective fluids hitting the top of their internal lining as the body accelerated past the rate of gravity in the wrong direction was never something Sully expected to get used to, but damn if it didn’t get her blood pumping. All the same, she always expected more of a hard landing, and it never failed to surprise how smooth the hard planetside impact felt thanks to inertial dampeners. She couldn’t even tell before the hatch sprung that they’d landed in a marsh.

Not a moment more than their first steps on the world was it apparent that they were already facing threats. Sully grimaced behind her helmet, not sure what to make of the rather dead-looking creatures on approach. If nothing else though, that approach was hostile. The soldier secured her shield to her back and pried her hammer from the weapon lock by the pod’s hatch. It was time to really hit something.

Sully charged forth to meet the enemy hammer-first with a wide-arcing uppercut.

The thought of combat didn’t fail to get the Barabel’s blood quickly pumping. Druzk was excited about what would be in store for him and the rest of his team. And how they were going to descend to the planet’s surface was just the cherry on top. He was a thrill-seeker, through and through.

Aside from the brief interaction between himself and the somehow-taller-than-him being, Druzk kept to himself as he prepped his equipment for the journey down.

He’d make a mental note to talk to him—or was it her?—more later.

The Barabel barely had any time to prepare himself until the launch. Adrenaline to the max, Druzk couldn’t help but grin as he held on to dear life, despite being safely secured in the small tin can of a pod.

It wasn’t until landing that he felt the effects almost immediately. The Barabel felt unsteady as he hopped out, blaster rifle in hand. He planted a hand against the side of the pod to steady itself. Fortunately, the feeling didn’t last long, but it slowed him down just enough that the Togorian had their chance to attack first with their big kark-you hammer.

Damn!

He took full advantage of the brief “pause” in combat after the hammer took a few enemies down and started firing.

Upon the sudden stop of landing, Karran shook the vertigo out of his head. He heard the pounding on the wall of his pod and smiled. He reached to pull the release lever and prepared his lightsaber. He had been out of the game for far too long, and it was time to sing the song of battle the rhythm of his two hearts once again. As the door popped away with a hiss, he lunged out and ignited his saber.

The Zabrak rushed forward into the nearest cluster of constructs He could find. He slashed, parried, and weaved between them, cutting through as many as he could, almost inviting them to return the attacks.

Ele sat within his pod as is barreled to the Planets surface. His mind was focused in meditation. His body stilled in the Force. The young Jedi was focused on the moment.

The creeping chill of the planet tried to drown him. He could feel the darkness of the place. Something was very wrong with it. But his dear cousin, her husband, and his precious niece were in trouble. He had made his vow of protection. It was time to fulfill.

As the pod landed and began to open, Ele stepped outside, his newly constructed lightsaber in hand. He could “see” these constructs. Vile creations that seemed only destruction. Ele stepped into the fray, activating his blade as fiery green roared to life. His long training to master his body along with his mind would be put to the test.

The Jedi swerved through the swarm, his blade a tightly-coiled shield around his body. Like a whirlwind he kept his form, protecting his body while severing the life-force from these improper deviant creations. Instinct and the Force leading him on his way.

He could hear the other rescue team members as well. This job would be easier with them. But still many difficulties lay ahead.

The diminutive Rutian closed her eyes and stretched out with her feelings. The landing zone was strange, confusing. She could feel other members of the Brotherhood. Could feel their adrenaline and zeal in battle. Could feel the fear and worry, but it was what she couldn’t feel that gave her pause.

The visions had been tumultuous this morning. It was clear a malevolent presence was at work. Swirling mist obscured a contested field. Dead things wandered about. It almost felt familiar as memories of her time with the Nightsisters imposed themselves on her thoughts. But no…this was different–it felt wrong.

A high pitched tone sounded in the pod breaking Sinya’ni out of her ponderings as the pod warned of its eminent collision. She braced herself with the force as the inertial compensators in the drop pod could not fully shield the rider from the sudden stop.

The doors popped open revealing the scene. The smell was awful. Like death…old death. Undead skeletons like creepy marionettes surged all around the pod. “Breathe, no time to hesitate,” she muttered to herself to stave off the initial shock. She then slid out of the pod, two lightsabers moving to the same rhythm as she slipped through the wave of dead warriors.

It had been a long, long time since the Sith woman had seen battle. Not the simulations, droids, and sparring partners, but real battle. After awakening from the coma she had spent the last nearly nine months holed up in her DIA office, surfacing occasionally for random assignment, and strangely, the random social event. Then this came through the wire. Socorra’s new responsibilities made this less of volunteering and more of an order, and so, she packed and ran for the Void.

As she and Akua, her Arx-wolf-like Cythraul companion, dropped to the surface, the Sith woman’s mind was centered on the sentients planetside. There were those of the Brotherhood and those of the strange dead-undead entities that were no doubt enemies born of ritual or something of another. And then there were three infinitely familiar signatures, all Tyris three, all of whom she still shared residence with. But the only person on that planet that mattered at that very moment was the little one named Kirra.

Aunny Socks is coming, Maeshla. Hold tight! she sent telepathically to all three.

The Matriarch of the Cythraul and the Matriarch of the Erinos both sprung from the settled pod, Akua leaping onto the nearest construct to Karran in case he was swarmed. Heeding caution over wrath, Socorra tested one of the farther constructs before engaging multiple like the others, her mind reaching out to it. Right away it was obvious that they were, unfortunately, not going to be easily manipulated with the Force, if they could be at all. Instantly, most of her post-coma arsenal suddenly became useless.

Frustration turned to anger and Socorra hefted her Beskar spear into her burn-scarred hands before springing forward into the fray.

Mune was not keen on getting into one of the pods. Nagged by anxiety, they eventually gave in though and allowed themself to be strapped in.

Just do something useful to distract yourself, they thought in annoyance to themself.

Meditation made most sense, and would put their mind far from the current confines. It too let them open their self to the Force and it responded as it always did. The gates opened, it flowed forth and brought with it those glimpses for which the Shistavenen searched. Awash in them, the pod fell away from their perception and there were only the visions. It was like setting foot a dream, one guided by the Force.

Mune found themself looking upon the faces of strangers. Unpleasant ones at that from the look and feel of them through the vision. They did not flinch back however, no matter how the Bothan seemed to gaze back into them.

It was the sight of Atyiru and Marick however, and the taken Kirra that gave them pause. Are they after the little one? Mune felt the vision receding even as they thought it. Whether she was their intended target or just one of opportunity… other needed to be warned.

The pod came flooding back, but not before Mune cast back to the Bothan again and could not help feeling that he knew. There would be no surprising them.

The vision releasing them from its grip, Mune found that they had already landed and the battle already started. They climbed free from the hellish confined container and took stock of their surroundings. They pulled their hood up over their ears and took their lightsabers in hand. When time presented itself, they’d share what they had seen. For now… they reopened themself to the Force, as off as it felt here, and readied themself for combat.

Amidst the battle Ele grazingly touched one of the skeletons, and he momentarily connected with the Force and whatever controlled these constructs. He could feel two…no…three beacons in the Force. Two were connected to these puppets, most likely the ones controlling them. The third was not, but still connected to the others.

What was most concerning was what he didn’t feel. These beings were not Jedi. They were not Sith. They were not of the Light Side or of the Dark. What he felt emanating from the beacons was overwhelming. It was pure, unadulturated, vile malevolence. Evil at its deepest core. This frightened the Jedi, but he must press on.

For Marick.

For Atyiru.

For Kirra.

Jondar “Jo” Tigris stumbled out of his upside-down pod with a distinct lack of grace as the cacophony of battle raged around him. The Kiffar Mandalorian had missed the start of the engagement trying to extricate himself from his safety harness.

“Frakin’ Corellian made garbage,” the mercenary swore as he oriented himself after having the blood rush to his head from being upside-down for almost a minute. His sometimes faithful Vornskr Cooter II slithered out of the pod behind him.

Jo scanned his immediate surroundings to find his fellow Brotherhood members locked in combat with what appeared to be a horde of skeletons. Then he spotted a familiar face, Kamjin, the Consul of Scholae Palatinae. Wanting to make a good impression on, in Jo’s view, the handsome Elder Sith, he barked a command at his pet.

“Cooter!,” Jo pointed to a skeleton directly in front of Kamjin, “See those skeletons over yonder? Sic em!”

The Vornskr titled its head in visible confusion and then proceeded to trot off in the opposite direction to chase the scent of a field mouse.

“Cooter no! Bad dog!” The Mandalorian stomped and waved his hands in frustration before resolving to deal with his errant pet later. Jo trotted up to the makeshift battle line, positioning himself next to Kamjin. He readied his bo-rifle, aimed at the skull of the shambling horror before him and took an aimed shot. The creature stumbled back as the shot found purchase but did not go down.

Jo turned toward Kamjin, “I got ya handsome.”

Kamjin’s crimson lightsaber twirled in front of him as he parried and held his own against these unknown and unique adversaries. He accepted this mission given it’s relative low risk to his clan, the opportunity to learn more about a potential rival in Arcona, and to (perhaps) gain an edge on the Children of Mortis.

The horrific atmospheric conditions had caused the timing of their landing pods to be staggered and erratic. Most had arrived before him and one just landed nearby.

That poor bastard, landing upside down, he thought to himself. Hopefully whomever was inside has survived without any lasting ill effects. Turning his full attention back to the foe at hand he didn’t notice the arrival of a familiar, but younger, Vornskr and an all-to-familiar suit of Mandalorian armor.

Kamjin’s blade sung like an operatic singer reaching their crescendo. As the Elder resigned himself that he wasn’t going to learn anything just dancing with this corpse, he prepared to strike it down.

“I got ya handsome,” rang out besides him. I know that voice, Kamjin reacted in horror. His eyes went wide with terror as he turned and caught sign of the tiger striped Mandalorian armor. His mind seized in horror. No, not him. Anyone but him.

“No!” Kamjin screeched, reacting on a subconscious level. As his voice echoed across the field, a wall of energy exploded from with him toppling the Mandalorian head over heels as he tumbled away and shattering the skeleton in front of him.

Kamjin’s body shook violently from the unfocused Force he had let rip through his body. He had ghosted Jo since that event in the arena. Ciara had laughed at him when he cursed her out for the pairing and, worse of all, he cursed himself for foolishly thinking that Jo would have been an inroad to an alliance for anyone or anything.

Behind him the Mandalorian pulled himself up. Dusting off the dirt and grime from the ground. Maybe he hadn’t gotten a good look at him. It’s dark in the storm and the Mandalorian was looking down fussing with his blaster holster being entangled with the armor over his cough crotch.

Maybe I can conceal myself and avoid this whole thing, he thought to himself. Covering his face with his shaking hand, he slowly pulled down, like a cleaner wiping the grim off a table.

Whether he was distracted or the sense from Jo were muddling the situation, Kamjin felt his normally close shaved bread grow into a handle bar mustache, a golden ear-right appears on his left ear, as he felt the rest of his beard turn to one day old stubble.

“Hoo, boy, Kammy, you really have gotten yourself purdy,” Jo said, as he clasped a hand onto the Emperor’s armored shoulder pads. jo’s hand lingered there, giving a more than just reassuring rub. “Thanks for getting rid of that darn skeleton. I tell you what, if Cooter had listened to me you wouldn’t have had to go exert yourself like that at all.”

Kamjin’s eyes grew wider with discomfort at each massaging pulse of Jo’s hand. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” Kam said, his voice straining to the limits of all his professional diplomacy skills. “Perhaps, you’d like to go collect your pet?” he added, hoping Jo would take the hint and leave.

See, Pom? Out to be a karkin’ hero.

The crimson zabrak tugged at the straps locking her into the pod. They were just a bit too tight, but it seemed the adjuster had gotten stuck. With a final yank and a frustrated sigh, she waited for the pod to meet the ground. At least it shouldn’t be too long before she’d be out of the blasted thing.

Piece of junk better not break on me. As if directing her ire toward the inanimate object would threaten it into cooperation.

The pod landed on uneven ground and fell over on its side. Of course the ground was blocking the door, so she needed a few good kicks to get it open. She poked her head out to take stock of what was going on, then readied her rifle. Hopefully she could pick some off at a distance.

Karran’s bloodshot eyes flashed with rage as the skeletons swarmed him. One even tried to bite him.

Withe his gauntlet-covered free hand he grabbed one by its spindly neck/spinal column and drove his forehead into its skull, shattering the bone. As he lurched forward, one took the opportunity jump onto his back, but found only a reverse headbutt to meet its gnashing, chattering teeth

The blue Twi’lek in black nightsister armor deftly moved through the battlefield. Her red and purple blades slashed at the boney necks of her skeletal foe with surgical precision. She made her way starboard to meet up with the larger group of allies.

As Jo pondered whether or not he should go try to retrieve Cooter, a cluster of skeletons advanced on the odd couple. The mercenary removed his hand from Kamjin’s shoulder and sprung into action to protect the obviously more powerful Sith. He charged forward yelling “I’ll mess ya up” turning to his right and raising his left vambrace toward the closest skeleton’s club. A round disc of pure energy manifested from the vambrace just in time for the block.

“Back off mah man!”

Jondar’s taunt came too early as another skeleton brought a rusty sword in for a horizontal strike from just outside the Mandalorian’s peripheral vision. The ancient weapon struck Jo’s beskar helmet with a loud clang sending him stumbling back a few steps with his bell proverbially and quite literally rung.

Her foe felled and apparently not getting back up in multiples, Socorra spun on her booted toes to take in the battlefield. Akua never even stopped, just went on to the next one as if competing. Karran next to her seemed to disintegrate the skellies with his bare hands. And to think he might have needed help. There were some Arconans and one definite odd couple and they all seemed fine on their own.

All the woman wanted to do was bolt through and find her niece, whose parents should not have come here, but suspected this was merely a single and weak wave. But they would need to advance.. to somewhere. Socorra reached out to the little toddler to find her location and range and anything that could help get to her faster.. or explain just what in the kark was going on. Her orders were now secondary at best to keeping Kirra safe.

Sinya’ni’s iridescent crimson blade passed through the first skeleton. The violet one crossed through the next. By the time their bones deconstructed into dust, she was past them and moving on to the next group. The battlefield was starting to swirl with the ash of the disintegrating army. Sinya’ni made her way towards her allies to see if they had a plan beyond hacking and slashing through skeletons.

Mune focussed the Force through the lense of their mind, they reched outwards. They knew one, for certain, must share the vision with as directly as possible. The other they reached out to was one they knew to be experienced in visions themself… Eleceos. It was not one of their most practiced gifts, but, they managed none the less, trusting in the Force to respond as they willed. Socorra and Eleceos both would feel the gentle touch of Mune’s mind to theirs, like a soft brush of fur and fresh fallen snow. It was a softest brush at first, like a whisperering breeze; soon though it turned into a steady flow of images. The Shistavanen shared what they had seen, perhaps not as clear and clean as Mune themself had experienced them, but the images and impressions were all there nonetheless.

You have seen what I have seen, Mune whispered into both their minds , letting the vision come to its ends within their minds.

They withdrew from the telepathic connection, exhaling an drawing back into themself. They focused forward, upon the enemy keeping them from those they had come to aid. “We need to push through them and forge a path towards Marick and the others with all due haste.” Mune shouted over the din of battle. They left unsaid that they must reach them before the enemy could capture the child. There was no knowing when that event would unfold. The Bothan’s gaze lingered in their mind. He knows… but what is it he saw… how can we tangle up the threads of fate enough to throw him off and get the upper hand… Mune thought, the Shistavanen filing away what data they already had to analyze as they moved forward. They only hoped Socorra would exercise caution and not charge ahead, alone, after experiencing the vision for herself.

Druzk watched as his and the others’ lightsaber swings and blaster fire felled the enemy. Unfortunately, the giant furred being’s hammer did little; instead, her hammer swing caused more to be created! Druzk hissed a curse in his native tongue, firing a blaster bolt toward one of the newly spawned skeletons near the Togorian.

He shouted over at her as he unhooked a thermal detonator from his belt. “Hey! I’m about to kark these guys up with a detonator!”

Sully had just dropped her hammer, arms reaching over her shoulders for her shield. “Oh yeah?” she called back. Just before she went for her pistol, it hit her. Shield. “Toss it!”

Druzk didn’t hesitate. She had to have an idea if she was telling him to toss his explosive over while still being within the horde.

A clawed finger activated the palm-sized device of destruction, and he threw it toward her as he eyed the shield.

“Batter up!”

With a well timed swing, Sully shield-bashed the grenade up over her position. The undead creatures continued lumbering her way as the ticking device slowed and began to fall from above. Sully dove away as it came down and raised her shield for the bang.

Blood pounded in Karran’s ears. He could just feel the sweat beading on his skin. It seemed like every time he cut an enemy down, another popped up. But that was fine. It had been too long since he had tasted combat, and now he could eat his fill.

His lightsaber flashed. One skeleton fell. The next skeleton lunged with its club. The Sith parried and struck, cutting through the bone with ease.

Blood. Sweat. Adrenaline. He was alive.

Eleceos was centered. Every movement was patient and precise. Every sweep of his ghostly blade carved through bone, disintegrating the connection between the malevolent source and their constructs. He kept an image in his mind. An image of a happy, cooing, beautiful baby girl.

“Hold on Kirra. I will save you. Misiri, I am coming.”

His defenses impenetrable, Ele carved through two skeletal constructs as his breathing was collected and calm. He was in full control of himself. Years of training and discipline had served him well.

The Light keeps me in balance. Keeps me strong

the ash cloud grew to the point her visibility was affected. As Sinya’ni engaged the next skeleton, she struggled to get a solid hit. Slashing with both blades she scored several minor hits while avoiding the undead’s clumsy attacks. A lucky strike from her offhand blade nicked its neck starting the decomposition process. As it crumbled, the Twi’lek looked around to gain her bearings.

“I am not your man,” Kamjin mumbled before letting out a loud ‘ooo’ as he saw Jo’s head get rung by the rusty sword connecting with his helmeted head.

Despite his intense dislike of the man he didn’t wish to see him killed. He cocked his head to the side for a moment at that thought. Maimed, burned, bludgeoned, stabbed, shot…sure, yes, but not killed.

A moment of clarity snapped him back to the battle moments before a skeletal opponent took of his head. Moving to the side he took a glancing blow into his pauldron. His shoulder throbbed with pain, but he’s felt worse.

He flourished his saber with an elegance obtained through decades of practice. As his blade bounced from connection joint to join the skeleton collapsed into an orderly heap.

His companion, oblivious to the fate of his companion rushed towards Kamjin. Kamjin, feeling more like himself in the heat of battle, casually raised his off-hand. Flexing his fingers, he prepared to let loose the raw arcing power of the Force.

As the energy swelled up inside himself readying for release, Jo called out. “Kammy, save me!” The distraction pulled Kamjin’s attention from the rushing collection of bones as he unleashed his Force Lightning directly onto Jo’s prone body.

As the electricity arced and danced amongst the Beskar plates, Jo wriggled and shook on the ground. “Oooo, boy! That’s got me going,” Jo said as muscle spasms clenched this jaw shut.

Please, let this knock him out, Kamjin thought as he turned his attention back to his advancing opponent.

Vreva lined up her shot using her pod as cover. There was one near the other Zabrak. Not that she found an automatic kinship, of course. He had simply shoved it back to the perfect spot.

Part of her was glad these constructs appeared so feral. After fighting so many living humanoids, it was a change to see her quarry already dead. To her, these constructs were simply enemies to put down. Where they came from was a matter best suited to the thinkers of the group. This was a battlefield.

A slow exhale and the cycler rifle went off with a thundering crack. One creature’s skull shattered into dust before it could swing its weapon at the pale Zabrak. Vreva chambered another shot and looked down the line for another target.

Ele took a calming breath as he “saw” the approaching threat. He took a step back from the front lines and disengaged his lightsaber. Placing the hilt onto his belt he pulled out his broken down energy bow and constructed the weapon.

As he kept his senses attuned to the fight around him he felt a heat from the Zabrakian Sith nearby. Karran Val'teo, a member of his Clan, and a “friend” was experiencing a rush of intensely powerful anger. He was using it to fuel his destructive power and taking down enemies left and right. Ele couldn’t help piercing the veil and looking beneath the surface. There had been so much pain in the Arconans past and he was unleashing it all in every strike he made.

Ele trembled slightly under the weight of the intense fury. But within it he could feel the longing for inner peace. The Jedi decided then that when this task was completed, he would do whatever he could to assist the Sith in some healing.

Karran had watched as the massive skeletal rancors burst out of the ground. He’d killed many things and many people. But never a rancor. This may be the closest he would come.

“COME ON!”

His voice was already hoarse and gravelly from his shouts and screams of battle. With a bestial roar, he charged one of the rancor, it did not matter to him which one. They would both fall in time. He felt the fire burn in his chest. Like an electrical current passed between his hearts as they beat faster and faster. He commanded the Force to strengthen his muscles as he charged and leaped at the beast. As he vaulted through the air, the Sith stabbed his still lit lightsaber into the monsters skull. His blade buried deep, but it’s bone was dense and thick. And he now found himself atop a massive skeletal rancor, puzzling to figure out his next move.

Dead rancors popped through the earth and the woman gave not a single kark. Kirra was on the other side of the planet, presumably still with her parents, but not for long if Mune’s vision came to pass.

The woman shouted at the figure in the distance in deep Olys Corellisi, the primitive, aggressive, staccato, and violent accented words rolling off of her sharp tongue.

“Valle no aa'kua min Tejha Larel. Doaba min min ol'val. Guerfel ahn min min vil ut valle Nharquis! Ishiia ahn min min Oblivyn!”

But even louder came her message in the minds of any that could hear it, in clear, perfect Basic:

You and your pets have come between my niece and I. Surrender now and I may grant you mercy. Persist and I shall eat your ashes and send you unto Oblivyn!

Sulith pulled herself back to her feet wanting to celebrate a decisive victory, but her potential for a grin quickly descended into wide-eyed shock.

Animated. Rancor. Skeletons.

Holy smokes. Was it excitement or concern she was feeling? Either way, one thing was for sure - The people around her needed them gone.

Her first instinct was to jump in front of everyone. It only took the sound of flailing lightsabers around her to remember who she was with and realize how futile that would be. Either way, a blaster would only do so much against a monster that large. Perhaps she could even the playing field another way.

Gritting her teeth, Sulith drew her pistol and fired a grappling line for one of the rancors’ legs. Direct hit; it was hers.

“Oh no you don’t,” she muttered, running aside to hold the giant in place. Sure enough, good footwork helped her lock the thing down.

Mune’s ears lay back, ruby eyes taking in the rising monstrosities that were the undead rancors. The enemy certainly were not fooling around it would appear. Fine… I can play too…

The Shistavanen threw the gates open, no gentle easing, no subtlety. The Force surged through them, channeled through their being. They took but a moment to guide it where they needed it. The muscles of their calves tensed, like the tightening of a spring. They were aware of their companions, their allies and their positions on the battle field. In their periphery they saw just what Sully was planning. That was their target too, then. They lowered into a crouch, waiting for just the right moment.

When the moment came, Mune moved. They bolted forward in an all out sprint. Mune was fast as they were, the Force only boosted that natural agility and carried the Shistavanen past Druzk and Sully both. They may have caught a glimpse of the black cloak and armour, and a flash of the Shista’s white tail in passing. The distance was crossed in mere seconds and the Shistavanen was upon their target only a fraction of a second after Sully’s grappling hook met the beast. Mune somehow found footholds that brought them up one of the monstrous arms before the beast could even begin to react.

Nearly up, they used the momentum to flip up onto the beast’s head from a point nearly at its shoulder and drew one of their lightsabers in mid flip. They landed in a crouch with one hand free in case they needed to grab hold in the next few moments. Just distract it from going for the rest of them. The lightsaber blazed to life, shedding its vivid blue glow upon the hooded Mune, they were not about to play nice.

Things just got better and better! Were those two undead rancor skeletons?! He was ecstatic!

Druzk had to admit that he didn’t expect a Shistavanen such as Mune to attack the way they did. Immediate respect. The Barabel would never tell them, though.

As the Togorian and Mune directed their attacks toward the same undead rancor, he planted his attention on the other one. Blasters wouldn’t do anything to them, that was for sure. So, what would he do?

Well, another thermal detonator, of course! Surely a nice explosion would do some decent damage. Druzk’s left hand swiftly reached under his jacket for another thermal detonator on his belt. Without hesitation, he activated the explosive and threw it.

“Heads up!” he called out to the others in warning as the sphere took flight.

As the last of the skeletons fell, Sinya’ni felt the earth tremble. She looked around in time to see the bones and rotting flesh of two rancors emerge from the ground in a grotesque simile of the once majestic creatures. She wondered what evil had brought them so far from their home and what had caused their demise… “it’s not important right now, Little blue,” she admonished herself. The words were spoken by her mouth but originated from the former master riding rent free in her mind. “Kill it again.” *The mantra surfaced unbidden to her lips and she remembered why she hated Aleister so much. But he was right in this case. She needed to kill it again.

Planting her feet and pulling on the energy surrounding her, she pointed two fingers towards the nearest rancor launching a salvo of lightning from her fingertips. She seemed to hit more of the ground than the rancor abomination, and what did hit the rancor didn’t seem to have any effect.*

Jondar’s helmet display flashed as it had been forced to reboot by Kamjin’s lightning blast. All the muscles in the Kiffar’s body still tensed as he slowly regained control of himself. Surely this had been an accident and not some kind of intentional attack. Before he get up one of the skeletons shambled closer and looked like it was going to bring its sword down on the prone Mandalorian.

A very familiar Vornskr came charging from the underbrush and positioned itself between Jo and the skeleton, teeth bared and snarling. Jo felt tremendous relief as he slowly rose to his feet that his pet had not completely abandoned him. Cooter lunged at the skeleton but missed and was swatted away.

“Cooter no!”

Jo transitioned his bo-rifle to his right hand and quickly lifted his left arm toward the nearest two skeletons. A jet of flame shot out of his vambrace, immolating the undead abominations who danced around and collapsed with a series of shrieks.

The mercenary then turned his attention to Kamjin who was in the middle of dispatching the last skeleton.

Not entirely sure just what in the kark she was doing, but Socks was certainly up there doing it because poking at it with a tiny blade on the ground seemed like a lesson in futility.

“Val'teo!” the woman yelled with all the gutteral authority of a drill sergeant as she made it to the top of the beast as if it were a normal Tuesday morning. “Here to help piss it off.”

One arm ‘held’ the grapple line while the other vambrace raised at the skeletal head. With a command hand gesture the flame thrower came alive in a five meter long cone, burning up whatever hair the rancor still had left and torching the bones long enough to hopefully set them on fire if even possible.

The diminutive Rutian watched the rampaging rancor bones shake off her allies. It was too big to take on from here. “There is no way I am going to jump up there…I could…but no. That is foolish. I’m not a karking Savage. Let’s bring it down a notch.”

Sinya’ni planted her feet and drew strength from the earth beneath her feet. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the large construct’s foot. Focusing all her attention on lifting the massive foot higher and higher until—crash!!

The abomination hopped trying to regain its balance before crashing to the ground stirring up a cloud of ash obscuring Sinya’ni’s view and breaking her concentration.

Oh this should be… They felt the blast of the grenade thrown by Druzk through the beast they balanced upon. The ground came rushing rapidly but Mune, in an impressive feat of skill rode it down, weapon still in hand and even made it appear effortless. … fun, they finished their thought with a grin.

Kamjin saw the various lights cycle across Jondar’s armor and knew that his misdirected attack hadn’t caused any lasting damage…to the armor. The lingering question about the person inside was answered as Jo responded to the Vornskr that came bounding out of the underbrush to tangle with the skeletons that were approaching on the mandalorian.

Must be the atmosphere throwing off my Force lightning, he justified to himself. Flexing his grip on his saber, he darted forward at the remaining skeleton. He thrusted through the 4th rib to piece the scapula. Carving an inverted U shape he separated the acromion and clavicle on both sides.

The arms and shoulders dropped from the skeleton. With a dramatic flare he produced a figure-8 cut separating the thoracic vertebra and the lumber certebra from the first 1st and sacrum.

The animated bones became inanimate as they fell. Deactivating his blade, given the immediate threat to him was over; he surveyed the battle raging before him. The Arconans were holding their own focusing on the lumbering beasts before them but there was something missing.

Looking beyond the battle, Kamjin perceived the shrouded man and his erratic movements. Like a dance…or a…spell. Something like the nearly extinct Dathomirian witches would do.

“You need to focus on the shrouded man!” Kamjin said, utilizing his best commanding voice and presence. “He’s weaving a spell that must be controlling the beasts!”

Vreva was on it before Kamjin finished pointing it out. At this distance and with a battle between them it was a tricky shot. However, it was a shot worth taking.

The crimson zabrak moved out of cover to line up. With the figure’s focus on controlling the Rancor, she would be unnoticed until the shot. She aimed for a headshot, but thought better of it. The higher-ups would need answers, and answers dont come from a corpse.

Aim lower. Slow exhale. A slow press of the trigger- crack! The shot rang out in the field like thunder once more.

With the beast downed, Karran thought it to be an opportune time to weaken the beast. He looked to the creature’s arm. It would be a significantly lesser threat without an appendage nearly as long as its body.

With a roar, he brought the crimson blade of his lightsaber down just below the shoulder. As he exhaled, the dense, heavy bone fell away, leaving the massive rancor with half the arms it had started with.

Mune heard Kamjin but, being distracted currently… they also doubted they could catch the figure even had they tried at that distance. One problem at a time, they reminded themself.

Their second lightsaber was quickly to hand. Their expression once more one of focus and seriousness. With a hiss of plasma, a violet glow joined the blue to add to the eerie glow upon the Shistavanen’s inquisitorius armour. They wasted no time. Both lightsabers were spun, and pointing down, were plunged downwards. Mune dropped into a crouch with the motion to put their (however little) weight behind the blow.

Plasma crackled and flashed. Armour cracked and split. It was no finishing blow but it left the beast’s great skull open for one of the others to take it out.

Druzk snorted in reaction to nearly being flattened by the rancor. As Mune made their attack with their lightsabers, the Barabel readied his Sonn-Blas F-11D blaster rifle. Thanks to the Shistavanen’s well-placed hits, Druzk took full advantage, unleashing blaster bolts into the now weakened armor.

Socorra seemed to repeatedly have trouble either scorching the bones or just getting the flamethrower to work again. She cursed and smacked the vambrace but gave up on it, better to stop than blaze up a friendly.

Eleceos aimed his bow at the newly opened bike armor of the remaining Rancor. He planned on finishing the creature off with one final shot to end the constructs suffering. As he went to release, he lost his balance; the malevolent nature around him nipping at his senses. The shot faltered and impacted the creatures bone armor with no effect.

And then it sputtered and came back to life, shocking the woman into almost letting it flame up someone else as the brace was being angled down. With a cackle she brought the weapon back up and torched everything in the cone’s path, creating a giant pyre and scorched earth in the middle of the battlefield to let them all know that Aunny was coming.

As the scorched skeleton crumbled away, Karran deactivated his saber with a flourish before slipping it back into it’s leather holster at his thigh.

A wave of fatigue fell over him. He did his best to resist, but his limbs immediately felt twice as heavy. But not unbearable.

With a shake if his head to give himself a moment’s clarity, he turned his attention to the woman who had joined him on the Rancor’s back and offered his hand. “We had not had the chance to properly meet. I am Karran Val'teo.”

The Human offered a burn-scarred one in return with a nod of respect as she shook his. “Socorra Erinos. Did no get to hang around long. Need two reins next time.”

“Respect.” He nodded as their hands connected. “Although, I believe the Rancor-Riders of the past preferred their mounts to be a touch more…alive.”

Akua, having corraled the Vornskyr and the last of the skellies, trotted back to the group with a massive rancor rib triumphantly in between her jaws.

“But something tells me this one does not mind.” He offered the back of his right hand for the canine to sniff.

“Ehh spit!” Vreva hissed when the robed figure ran. By the time she had another bullet in the chamber and an eye to the scope, they had vanished. Her prey was gone and the Rancor slain once more. A time to catch her breath. She didn’t feel she needed it while she still had bullets. Couldn’t have gotten far…

Though as she looked to the rest of the group, she sighed and put the safety on her gun. No place to be a lone wolf. Time to mingle.

Eleceos broke down his bow and stored it before making his way towards his Zabrakian ally. He could feel the rage die down and knew that fatigue would follow. The Miraluka approached the Sith with a smile and put on a pair of gloves.

“Hello Karran. Your fighting today has been fierce. Would you take my hands please?”

The Sith sighed internally. As little as he wished to accept help from the Jedi, he could not deny the feeling of lead weights in his arms and legs. “I will accept. I thank you.”

Mune deactivated their lightsabers and slipped both back into their holsters at the small of their back. They closed their eyes and inhaled deep then let it out slow. It took only a moment or two of concentrating, the Arcanist restoring that energy used to combat the beast. They had admittedly not exerted much, but, they knew they would need every bit of their reserves for the coming battle.

That taken care of, they finally hopped down from their perch and nodded to Druzk. “Nice firepower back there, and nice sidestep.”

Vreva wandered over to the group with her rifle slung over her shoulder. Her gaze might have lingered on the other Zabrak, brow raised. She leaned against a nearby pod. “Nice work all around.”

Eleceos nodded as he focused. He drew stregnth from the planet and let the world’s energy fill him. Using his knowledge of the Force and its healing properties he pushed the reinvigoratibg energies into Karran.

As the energy died down, Ele’s covered hands fell away from the Zabrak and he turned to the direction of where the hodded ran off.

“We should be moving. My Misiri and Kirra are waiting for us.”

The woman smirked a little at his humor. Akua sniffed the hand without setting her trophy down. “Akua,” she nodded to her Cythraul companion. “In Olys Corellisi, also means ‘Respect.’”

As Karran took the Jedi’s hands Socorra slipped away from that.. transaction. All the others seemed to be well so she made her way to the Adepts. <@679032520699805708> <@185939710005215232>

Karran clapped a heavy hand on the Miraluka’s shoulder. “I thank you for your energy. I shall put it to good use.”

As he walked away, toward the other Zabrak, he began cracking and popping various joints that had tightened up in the immediate post-combat lull.

Without pretense she simply jumped right into it. “Skipping fifty titles for sake of brevity, Marick, Atyiru, and my niece are down here, on other side along with the Inquisitors.” She went into detail of the other information that she herself had about the enemies and situation.

Vreva’s attention had certainly shifted. As the Zabrak approached, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Come here often?” she asked with a smirk and a nod. She gave partial attention to the woman, catching the names but little else of the information.

Mune watched Socorra. They had to get moving immediately, Mune knew. What if the girl had already been taken? No, do not think like that.

The Shistavenen turned their gaze to the distance. They were in good shape to move… Mune turned back and padded up towards Socorra and the two elders. “I would like to sprint ahead to scout the situation, but, want at least one other with me who is as agile.”

There were already growing antsy. The vision kept replaying through their head. “We should also test communications to ensure we can stay in contact as well.”

Finally able to speak with Mune, she also let them in on what she knew. “They have not taken her yet. But they could any minute.”

“Only when there is a good fight to be had. I had been stationary for too long. This has been a good warmup though.” He spoke in Zabraki and cracked a half-smile. He eyed the woman up and down, just once. She was nearly as tall as him, something he’d not encountered very often among his own people. He studied her tattoos, black ink on striking red skin, briefly, as if trying to read a book.

“I am Karran Val'teo.”

“Vreva. Pleasure.” Spoken in Basic with a wink. She could practically feel Pom’s eyes roll from back at the ship. Sure, they had a job that they had to do. That did not mean they couldn’t have a little fun while they went about it.

When her focus shifted back to the mission, it was like a switch had flipped. Carefree smile turned to a thin line as she turned to the others. “I’ve got some skills in tracking. Pretty fast, too,” she offered up. “Itching to help any way I can.”

Mune nodded, “All the more reason then…” They cast about the group wearily, “I will take someone and we will scout ahead, we will not engage unless absolutely necessary.”

They turned that gaze back on the woman. “They will not have her,” the Shista spoke in a growl.

They heard Vreva and their attention flipped to the Zabrak. “I am depending on your tracking then. I will focus on sensing our surroundings as we move. You are okay with avoiding engagement? Let us test comms before we move.”

Comm checks were done quickly. They nodded to Vreva, “Thank you for volunteering, my name is Mune, a pleasure to have your company.”

“Pssh, ‘am I okay with avoiding engagement’– of course!” Vreva put her hands on her hips and shifted her weight to the side. “And if I fail at that, well. You should have seen the shot I got on that last guy. Almost got him right here–” She pointed to the side of her neck and mimed a spout of blood from the jugular.

Though dressed in dark leathers, there was nothing subtle about Vreva. From the bold red of her skin to her angular tattoos and demeanor, she was a Reek in an antique shop. Still, she approached Mune with her shoulders back and head high.

“Vreva.” Another nod in greeting, then she stretched and pulled her braids into a bun. “Ready whenever you are.”

Mune nodded and, looking in the direction the figure had run, they growled. “Let us go then.”

They sprinted off, knowing Vreva would follow. Mune also knew the others would be on the move soon. They focused on the task at hand, opening themself to the Force so they would sense anything off, while keeping their eyes and ears open for trouble. What kind of scouts would they be if they let themselves be ambushed now?

Sinya’ni watched as the others made plans. She did not introduce herself. She was here because the brotherhood needed her to be here…and to figure out who was desecrating this planet by bastardizing Mother Talzin’s techniques. This is not how the nightsisters act. This insult would not go unanswered. The Twi’lek followed the lead party out, keeping a close eye on anything that might be useful in figuring out this mystery.

The scouts slowed as they closed the distance between themselves and the summoner. In the distance, the ruins… so close yet so far with very obvious obstacle of more enemies between them and their goal.

Mune reported back over comms what lay ahead. Instructing thier companion to stay out of sight, they themself took up a position to observe until the rest joined them. Almost there…

Kamjin clued into what Socorra was attempting to do. He approached behind Socorra and with a sweat, charming voice (the same that he had used to charm his wife and politicians for years) tried the same approach.

“You’ve got this all wrong. You need to be with us against that weird painted man. Come, let us help you,” he said, earnestly.

The Zabrakian women gave him a look somewhere mixed between disgust and annoyance at the stupidity of the man to try and same trick twice.

Eleceos caught a quick glimpse into the future, and his body reacted. He grabbed hold of his lightsaber, activating the ghostly black and green blade. The incoming lightning collided with the blade, which grounded the attack and left Ele untouched. When he was finished, he deactivated the blade and put the hilt back away.

Mune, was somewhat surprised at the straightforward attack more than anything. The attack was not even a feint. The Shistavanen’s natural agility was all it took to twist out of the way of the incoming blow. An attack they needn’t the Force to warn them of even. No getting cocky, focus, they reminded themself mentally. They took the opportunity to reach a hand behind them and drew one of their lightsabers, ready to activate it when it was called for.

Druzk locked his attention towards the being that attacked Mune. The moment the Shistavanen dodged the incoming attack, the Barabel whipped out his blaster rifle and unleashed it at the foe.

Sully’s shield took the brunt of the strike, though the might of her foe still knocked her back a step. Her pistol emerged from behind her riot shield and began firing. The shots failed to connect, but managed to suppress its approach for the moment.

“Get behind me!” Sully shouted openly to her fellow gunslingers.

“Yeeee haaaaw,” Jo cried as he raised his bo-rifle and let loose a volley against the summoner

Eleceos narrowed in on the figure chanting her spell. He felt the power approach him, but his calm mind allowed him to shake it off easily. The Miraluka was unfazed, though the others were not so lucky.

Grabbing hold of his bow, he pulled back on the string and aimed a tight shot. He took in a breath and let it go as his finger released the shot. The energy bolt flew through the sky in a near perfect arc. It fell, screaming through the wind, fully intent on skewering the caster.

At the last moment, her protector deflected the bolt much to Ele’s chagrin. He prepared himself for whatever would be coming his way next.

Mune felt the brush of the Zabrak sorcerer’s power, steeling themself, it was not allowed to set root in them. The Shistavanen planted their feet. They knew full well the danger they put themself in, but knew too that others were unable to repulse her ability.

“Not happening…” Mune growled under their breath.

They planted their feet, they trusted their companions to protect them if necessary. Calm filled their mind, they centered themself within the Force. They exhaled slowly, serene, a rock within the turbulent rivers of fear sent out by the woman. They released their own power to touch their allies, to sooth away those fears, that darkness; that woman’s twisted use of her power. Mune remained still, focused, cloak rustling about their slight frame in invisible eddies of their power.

The Sith sneered at the sentient enemies standing in between her and Kirra, her ruby lip raising and curling at the corner. She raised a burn-scarred hand and pointed as if marking them for death with a single bronzed finger.

“Did you not see the pyre I started for your bodies, using your pet? Get the KARK out of MY WAY!”

Socorra channeled her hatred and malice into a mental Force attack, to render them unto their own fears as they had attempted to do upon her allies.

The Twi’lek Nightsister growled at the caster and fighter. “Who are you? Who taught you the ancient secrets and why do you now dishonor our culture with this…distortion.” She slid forward towards the Nightbrother thrall that stood between her and the imposters. Swinging her sabers in quick technical strokes at the zombie, she let the force guide her movements. Feeling the flow of the battle, Sinya’ni deftly ducked under the zombie’s attack and made use of his overrotation. A living Nightbrother would not have made that mistake and would have saved his arm. However, being the clumsy echo of what had been, the warrior’s arm felt the bite of the Twi’lek’s blade as it severed his arm at the biceps

In the midst of Sully’s brawl with the hammer-wielding zombie - how appropriate - something horrid flashed across the battlefield. In a moment, her lust for the battle was twisted, soured, turned from thrill to threat. Her very spirit was being devoured; she could feel the energy in her muscles draining as the world seemed to dim. It hit her then that this was beyond what strange astral magic she’d bore witness to among her peers these past years. Powers like theirs could be wielded as a cosmological threat, but this - the necromancy, the sapping of life from the living - this was almost eldritch.

Yet, as Sully nearly dropped to a knee from the sudden loss of energy, convinced right then that perhaps she’d finally die, she willed her body to stand firm. Her heavily scarred face stretched into a weak grin, and a grim chuckle escaped her. That was really the catch, wasn’t it? She was always ready to die. And as long as that was true, this changed nothing to her.

The zombie ahead made another lunge at her, and Sully braced with her shield again. The thing was shoved back harmlessly, and Sully laughed again. Neither it nor its masters had nothing on her. It moved up again, and she held it at bay.

Her gaze turned to her allies, looking for someone to help her take it on, but that was when she realized the split. Half of her allies had lost the light in their eyes, hesitated in their approaches. Those were the gazes of doomed men and women, reconsidering where they stood. To her left and right alike, her allies, her friends, were struggling against this magic assailing their minds. Sully grit her teeth, planted her foot against her direct opponent, and shoved them apart once more.

“You have NOTHING on me!” she shouted to its face and to the dark sorcerers beyond. “I’m not special! I am one soldier among clerics and wizards and sorcery! And if I can stand up to you… how can you hope to match all of them?!”

The power of Mune’s magic reinvigorated her body, but something deep down was already burning to keep her going. Sully turned to her comrades again, feeling the adrenaline rush back through her system. As if by instinct, a wild, bestial roar let out, daring them to press on.

“Stand your ground, or get behind me!” Sully shouted across the field. Her shield raised once more with renewed vigor. “Their power is no better than yours!”

Kamjin shook his head as the last lingering effects of the foe’s mental attack dispelled. Kamjin noticed the Shistavanen focusing their attention on warding off the continued unseen attack.

Heh, so that’s how they want to play it, he thought to himself. As he drew inward, he opened his mind to the battle around him. In the swirling ether that was the beyond the distractions of the battle slowly melted away into an empty plain.

His companions, if they could be called that this point, shone like pale illuminations as their unique energies danced and played through their actions. He could see the now the threads of energy pouring out of the Shistavanen. The ribbons slaps and clashed with the striking tails of rage coming from their opponents.

Kamjin smirked, so predictable. From his own swirling body of darkness long shadows poured forth like polluted slug dripping from a dam. They eked across the ground, bypassing the battle, to creep up the shadowed forms of their opponents.

Like a quill dipped in ink the ooze was absorbed up their body.

Vreva had been at the back as she calculated the positioning of their people in response to the threat. She could feel the roiling tide of the Force within the field, and it invigorated her. She breathed it in and focused.

The Caster seemed to be the one in control. The Fighter seemed too cocksure for their own good. The focus seemed to be the right of their field, with everyone focusing their abilities on that side. That made their left wide open.

She sprinted across the field, cycler rifle in hand. They would notice the bright red Zabrak in their periphery. One shot.

She aimed at the Caster first, looking to end the fight then and there. However, that Fighter looked ready to deflect anything coming their way. The slugs would splinter, but she needed to make her shot count.

She shifted her aim a little to the side, the Fighter’s skull in her sights. So nice of them for painting a target.

“Deflect this…” she muttered before pressing the trigger.

Sinya’ni watched in horror as the hooded woman sacrificed a living ally to fuel her spell. His screams pierced the air as the Twi’lek refocused on the two minions that were left. Searching their feelings for the right tactic, she reached into their thoughts. “You are next. She sees you as expendable. You will be sacrificed if you don’t escape now! Hurry, you are almost out of time!”

Druzk wasn’t sure what it was. But, something in his mind placed fear in him. He was scared. What was this feeling? Were these enemies playing mind tricks on him?! He stood motionless in an almost dazed state. Fortunately, the moment passed rather quickly, thanks to the help of his comrades.

The feeling washed over him, and he was back to himself. The Barabel hissed. “You assholes think you can mindkark me?!” he exclaimed angrily. He reached to his belt, pulling the last of his thermal detonators.

“Eat this!”

After a quick activation of the explosive ball of destruction, Druzk aimed his throw between the two warriors in front of Mune and the Togorian.

“Heads up, both of you!” he warned his allies as the thermal detonator landed between the feet of the two foes.

Kamjin saw the precision detonation and admire the tactical efficiency his short-term companions were displaying. Clearly they knew how to fight and fought well.

However, Kamjin felt the need to finish things quickly. Whether from a desire to prove himself still capable while in the audience of the younger warriors or to justify the title his clan had thrust upon him when he was elevated to Consul, his cockiness was leading him to rash decisions.

Seeing an opening between the combatants he stretched out both arms, his fingers splayed and held taunt as he surged his power into the crackling, static, discharge of hellish Dark Side energy.

The blinding blue-white energy arced forward, the air around everyone was rent as thunder thudded in on the collapsing atmosphere. The barrier shimmered and glowed where the beams connected. Kamjin smirked at his master plan before his face fell in shock.

“Nooo,” was all he had time to say as the barrier rippled back to it’s solid state, reflecting his electrical assault back upon the Emperor.

As the Force fed back upon the Elder, spread his fingers like a catcher preparing to receive a ball tossed to him. The energy collided and slowly dissipated in his hands. He shook his hands as the tingling sensation buzzed his bones; though he was no worse the wear for the attempt.

Karran watched the powerful warrior be replaced by a puny skeleton. The warrior would have been worth a fight, but this thing? It was an insult.

With his clawed gauntlet, he grabbed the skeleton by the spine, just below the ribcage and hurled it at the Force Barrier that protected their living enemies.

Mune was not far behind Karran. They breathed a little heavier from the effort of having countered the sorcerer’s debilitating assault on the group, but was not about to take a breather yet. Focusing once more, the Force responded. The Shistavanen gestured and a second skeleton was sent sailing through the air. Ripped from the marshy ground and sent directly at the protective wall of their enemies.

Eleceos watched the first skeleton fly towards the barrier. Though he couldn’t “see” the specific details, he did notice the shimmering in the Force. This barrier could be brought down, but they needed… more. He looked around and saw a large shape. It held a faint glow of life, similar to moss growing in rocks.

Taking a deep breath the Miraluka reached out with the Force. He strained as he put his whole focus into his efforts. The boulder lifted into the air and he raised it as high as he safely could. With maximum effort, he willed the large rock to fly through the air towards the barrier.

With a flash of midnight fur the massive Cythraul Akua pounced onto the caster the very second the barrier was brought down.

Mune saw the barrier come down and grinned some to themself. Now if only they were weakened enough that they would not fight back. No purpose to killing, we need to incapacitate and take them prisoner… Mune thought to themself.

Socorra raised an eyebrow at Akua and quickly launched her dagger Oblivyn into the air toward the Caster before the giant wolf-like creature could get there.

Sinya stretched out with her senses for something big to smash into the barrier. Skeletons…little rocks…craggily stump….

“That will have to do.” she used stretched her thoughts to the stump and launched it at the barrier. Water and moss trailed it like a comet as it smashed it not the barrier destroying it and the stump.

Socorra didn’t stand and debate their fate. The Mandalorian ran around the pair and the mess of bones littering the ground and bolted for the ruins. She would charge through the toddler’s parents to get to Kirra if need be.

Mune watched Socorra go then growled out, “Socorra has the right idea, go after her to back her up.” They turned their glance on the rest of the group, “We should not delay any longer, we have already been held up long enough.”

The Shistavanen looked back at the two upon the ground, a pang at the resignation there. After witnessing what the Bothan had done to the summoner… Memories turned nightmare, coming back to haunt them over and over… Mune gave their head a shake to clear it of their own creeping shadows. “You have suffered enough…” To the group they called, “After Socorra, I will catch up.”

The Twi’lek approached the two downhearted enemy minions. “You two should run. You are unlikely to see any mercy from this crew and I’ve seen what your Bothan friend’s idea of mercy is. Probably best to get off world as fast as you can,” she implored them using the force and her natural persuasiveness to play on their survival instinct. the others.

Amidst her panting as the action died down, Sully thought to perhaps reach out to the surrendering adversaries. That was, until they were taken by bones. At least, it looked like bones. This whole mess of space magic didn’t make sense to her, more so than usual for Force-users. Whatever the case, as far as she could tell, the two were gone. Sully exhaled grimly, then grabbed her hammer and hurried after Mune. She had to focus on what was still within her power to solve.

Sinya watched in horror as the pair of defeated cultists were swallowed by the boney cage that sprouted around them. “RAAAAA!” A raw primal scream pierced the air. The Twi’lek’s empathetic nature was both a blessing and a curse. As much as it helped her understand and manipulate the people around her, the double edge to that sword was that she sometimes experienced their emotions as her own. Even knowing it was not her emotions, the connection still hit her hard and fueled her anger. She focused the rage on one thing…making that Bothan pay. She would suffer a pain she had never experienced before. Sinya knew how to do it too. Aleister made sure of that. Time to take the skills she resented and turn them to a good purpose…

Mune stared on in dismay, so many emotions fighting to be heard. Frustration. Sadness. Pity. Horror. Rage. The rage taste of bile on the back of his tongue. They did not have to die… and that thought alone dulled the rage. Swallowing his anger he followed the others, feeling Sully at their back. They shot a glance to Sinya'ni, understanding too well her frustration. There still remained work to be done however, a mission to complete.

“Almost there…” they muttered to themself, tail limp, ears down.

By the time they caught up with the others, they had managed to school their body language back to neutrality. Even if their ears were only half up, it was better than down. Upset ears werehorribly obvious, especially with tail dragging along. Their tail was luckily hidden by their clock. They were ready to end this fight, to save their clan mates, and the inquisitorius members. They adjusted their own inquisitorius gear and readied their lightsabers.

Ele could fear the fear, the knowledge of what was coming. He could feel the acceptance of their fate. The bitter coldness that flushed through his body as the bone cocoon finished its job.

The one who did this was truly a dark soul indeed. The Miraluka felt suffocated by the malice in the air. But he had to move forward. His vowwas still in tact and his family in trouble. He wouldn’t be swayed. He wouldn’t be stopped.

Following the others he walked near the Shistavanen. The fellow Arconan was horrified by the happening. Ele could feel the turmoil within Mune’s heart.

“Dark deeds have been done today, we can only move forward and work towards the Light. I can only hope that we are able to save the next lives that cross our way.”

Druzk’s eyes widened slightly in surprise in reaction to whatever-the-frak that was that caused the duo of foes to disappear. The Barabel slung his rifle over his shoulder and caught up to the others, stopping beside Mune as he displayed some apparent emotions.

Druzk kept his mouth shut. Such a display of emotional vulnerability was weak on his homeworld. But this wasn’t his homeworld. He’d have to get used to it; no need to cause a ruckus within his combat party.

As Mune and the others continued on, the Barabel followed closely, silent in thought as the rest spoke.