Session export: “GJW XVII - [Champions of Sunrider]”

“I know someone, somewhere, is going to bitch about the protocols.” Windos gruffed as he leaned against bulkhead. “But the soldier in me agrees with the math. Oligard rules through raw fear. If we play it safe and dance around the edges, we just bleed out slowly.”

“It’s a massive gamble, and if we fail, we die in the dirt. But land that blow?” Jon let the question hang in the air.

“Count me in, Jon. Let’s go drop the roof on his head.” Windos looked around at the others, expecting them to fall in line and for this show to get on the road in short order.

Aurelis stood against a wall in her all black tactical gear, one new blaster attached flush to her thigh, and two knives visible, and one hidden contrasted against her lighter skin and deep red curls,“ Kark protocols.” she said in her deeply Imperial accent. “ They’ve caused enough damage, I’d rather take the reprimand than let this kriffer continue to cause more trouble.” her voice was deadpanned. Expression stern and unforgiving.

Xantros looked around and grinned evilly. His smile would make his most determined enemies hesitate before crossing his path, but he did not lack the determination to achieve his goal. To take Rath Oligard and whole Collective down. As he was listening to the conversation among other people gathered by House Sunrider Quaestor, Jon Silvon, he realized that he did not care about protocols as long as they would be successful in their mission. Protocols were useful in certain situations, but they did not work everytime. Sometimes, they could actually be an obstacle. When a stake was high enough, it might be worth to abandon standard procedures in order to achieve the goal. Now, the stake was high enough.

However, skipping protocols did not mean starting the mission unprepared. Certainly, there were a lot of things that could go wrong and it was not possible to predict them all. However, it would be unwise to have no plan at all. They risked a lot and getting killed or imprisoned at the beginning of what they thought would be a successful mission to get rid of Rath Oligard was not an option. The Duros looked around again and asked, „So, what is the plan?”

Zebina rechecked his gear for the umpteenth time since boarding the shuttle (actually he knew exactly how many times it had been: six - every fifteen minutes to account for jostling). He mostly ignored the conversation the others were having. Jedi and their hangers on always seemed to have trouble with things like mission scope and objective focus. By now he expected deviations and hero antics, but it still made him feel ill in the pit of his stomach every time it happened. “I wonder what we’ll be leaving unsecured while on this pursuit,” he wondered to no one. His external comlink was deactivated.

His attention was piqued as he heard the Duros’s gravel-filled voice inquire about a plan. It wouldn’t do to be unprepared. Zebina re-cycled the gas mechanism on the rifle lying across his lap, completing the sixth gear check of the flight.

“I don’t have use of the Force, there’s a decent chance I’d blend in well enough to plant some information that could lure him out without sounding an alarm. I’m more recent to the Clan, he more than likely wouldn’t recognize me as one.” Aurelis offered, she was watching the map, memorizing it.

Windos thumbed through the pages of intel on the datapad, his sightless vision perceiving the screen as variations of light and dark areas that formed into readable text in his mind.

“If we trigger his trauma head-on, we aren’t just drawing him out. We’re kicking a hornets’ nest,” Windos said mostly to himself. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Maybe it makes him rash?”

“Wait,” Windos said louder this time as a wry smile crossed his face. “There’s some fresh intel here. His cousin, Avitus… can we use this?” The question was mainly aimed at Jon, but he waited as the others pulled up that latest data packet on their own datapads. He noted several of their eyes widen as they read.

Zebina, having been forced to relegate the actual mission to a back burner sizzling away in some deep part of his brain, thumbed through the datapad. “Avitus…” he muttered to himself, cycling his comlink to external communication and disabling his voice scrambler.

“Do you think he would fall for that kind of bait, sir? I mean, is he that personally vengeful?” Zebina inquired, looking toward Jon.

The swaggering practically-a-pirate turned to answer.

“Is he… drunk..?” thought Zebina, eyebrows cocked behind the dead glare of his helmet’s emerald lenses.

Before any answer could be brought to tongue, a deafening crack thundered just behind the trooper’s head, immediately on the external side of the bulkhead. He let out a cry as he was jolted forward, saved from a terrible tumble only by his harness.

“Report!” shouted Jon over the whine and hiss of leaking pressurized hydraulic fluid.

“We took a near direct hit from their point defense lasers, sir,” replied the pilot with a crisp professionalism, despite the white knuckle grip he was surely crushing the control yoke with. “I don’t think they even meant to hit us and the ship is holding together. We’re losing pressure to the wing hydraulics, though, and won’t be able to retract. We won’t be able to stay airborne for long and the landing is going to be… really bumpy. At best.”

Zebina shook his head as his vision began to return. The big Miraluka was bent over him, clearly concerned. “You alright?” he inquired sincerely. Zebina gave him a thumbs up, though he wasn’t sure if that was the correct response considering the Jedi’s blindness.

The jolt of the ship as it was hit sent Aurelis near stumbling and she had to catch herself on the edge of the table before she fell. She muttered some very unladylike curses.

“Looks like the plan will be jumping ahead of schedule, if the fluid catches on the sparks the ship could go up in flames, we need to land ASAP.” she straightened up,“ The very next mission I take…and it’s another crash landing. At least we’re not being swarmed with bugs this time.”

“Whats our timing like?!” she called out,“ We’re going to need quick scans of the ground near the landing zone so we can set up a BoO and amend the plan of infiltration.”

Aurelis got to the cockpit doorway, holding onto the frame, and bracing her feet at the base,“ Base of Operations!” she yelled over his laughter,“ Which at this rate is going to be the Estate!” she added. She watched the scans, and out the viewport,“ Turn to starboard, land us down past those tall trees! Fastest way in with less defenses!” she added.

With an almost unnervingly calm demeanor, given the situation, Windos slipped passed Aurelis and took the empty engineer’s seat in the cockpit of the rapidly descending Lambda-class shuttle.

“Keep doing what you’re doing, Jon. I’m going to try something and I’m not sure if it will actually do anything.” Windos shrugged, “but it’s not going to make things worse.”

The Miraluka bowed his head and pressed his hand to the wall of the vessel, focussing intently. A faint translucent corona materialized around the angular nose of the ship. Forming protective barriers through the Force was a natural trained instinct for Windos at this point, but trying to mitigate the kinetic force of a crashing ship was a new extreme he had never tested. His head stayed down, his hand almost glued to the wall, as he willed all he could into the manifested barrier.

Jon called for everyone to brace as he began counting down to the most graceful landing he could muster out of the damaged shuttle.

“ Thanks to Windos, I think we all survived.” she said from the doorway of the cockpit. She moved from the doorway back into the main room.

Windos pat the original pilot on the shoulder, checking he was okay, then followed Jon and Aurelis out of the cockpit, “Yeah, I don’t know that I can take any credit for that, all things considered that was a smooth landing. With or without a little buffer on the hull.”

The Jedi walked the handful of meters with the group to the shuttle’s loading ramp as it lowered. Painfully slowly. As he watched the landscape around them come into view, he strapped his lightshield to his arm and nodded to Xantros who’d joint the throng.

Zebina stepped up beside the Jedi, checking his own gear once more as they waited. “They’re busy, but we’ll have drawn some attention. We need to break for cover ASAP.” He said to no one in particular.

The ramp finally hit the ground with a thud.

“I’m going to do a quick scouting.” she said drawing a hood up over her glaringly red hair, tucking it away from sight. “ Find the easiest way in, I’ll be back shortly.”

Aurelis called up the map from memory, checking the position of the sun and headed immediately towards the estate to observe and memorize the patrol patterns, defense placements and timing to get them in with the least amount of resistance possible.

Xantros looked at Jon. „I will go with her. Watch her back from a distance. Just in case. It would be sad to lose your precious new Aedile so soon after her appointment. I might also notice some details that Aurelis might miss.”

The Quaestor of House Sunrider nodded and the Duros followed the red haired Human. He kept around two meters between himself and his fellow member of Clan Odan-Urr to avoid getting detected with her in case they were found by the Collective patrols. Despite the chaos typical for a full-scale invasion that intended to perform a planetary redecoration and the Collective busy with defending its facilities on, he expected that troubles would find them sooner than later.

The Force Adept was not wrong. Around twenty minutes into the scouting mission he noticed three Liberation Front soldiers approaching his position from the north. Luckily, they did not spot him nor Aurelis yet, but he realized they would very soon. He made sure that they did not have a second chance to spot him and vanished into thin air as he used to Force to bend the light around him.

“What a shame that Rath Oligard and his Collective let the hatred towards the Force Users blind them against some of more subtle uses of the Force,” joked Xantros in his thoughts and laughed silently.

Aurelis caught the cylinder easily and stowed it before she walked off, listening to the sound of Xantros’ footsteps a little ways behind her. After those 20 minutes passed, Xantros’ footsteps froze, she turned and noticed the Duros was gone. She froze and listened, a patrol was coming.

She checked her chronometer for the time, and mentally noted it down. Slipping around the other side of the nearest tree, holding perfectly still until the patrol passed. When the sound of their footsteps receded, she continued moving. It didn’t take long to find the first set of buildings, and the next partrol.

Likely due to the fighting above the patrol timing had been tightened. Every 10 minutes 3 figures would pass by, they seemed to be running in concentric circles around the property. Aurelis ducked behind a vehicle, recalling the map and in her minds eye, layering it over what she could physically see. There should be, a maintenance shed around the northern corner of the next building.

Zebina knelt at the bottom of the Lambda-class shuttle’s ramp, scanning their surroundings with his macrobinoculars. He shifted his weight restlessly as he stowed the optics in a pouch on his lower back. “They’ve been gone almost 30 standard minutes. I can make out a patrol roughly every 10. Can’t determine size,” he reported to the merc standing behind him. “Are they morons?”

“Uhh… who?” Jon asked.

“The patrols,” Zebina clarified. “Our landing wasn’t subtle. They’re obviously not competent.”

Windos cleared his throat, causing his two companions to turn and look at him as he settled back onto the deck of the shuttle as he concluded a floating meditation session. “They’re fine,” the Jedi finally spoke, his eyes opening. “They haven’t been detected, and have reached structures. I couldn’t see what structures… but it’s not more trees.”

“Also it’s three people in the patrol,” Windos added with a smirk.

Aurelis, was pressed against the truck, there was one person between her and the maintenance building, easy pickings. That is, until Jon got impatient. “Aur, Xan, report. How’s it looking.”

The sound of Jon’s voice caught the guard’s attention, Aurelis cursed to herself. Stepping out in the open, dodging several blaster shots. Exercising her level of skills to dodge a blow with the butt of the rifle, using the guards weight to throw him over her shoulder, drawing a knife, and slitting the guard’s throat, holding him still until the convulsing stopped and let the man collapse in a heap before moving to the maintenance building.

It took two attempts to slice into the door, but slipped inside. Finding someone else in there, she engaged in a brief hand to hand before getting the woman on the ground with Aure’s foot pressed down on her throat, suffocating the woman while she inserted the cylinder into the console.

The trio all snapped their attention towards the estate’s location when the sound of blaster fire echoed through the area almost as if an answer to Jon’s query.

“Do we go?” Windos asked his Human companions.

“We go,” Zebina answered, setting off in the direction of the scouting party with Jon close on his heels in silent agreement.

Windos stayed behind to instruct the pilot to stay with the shuttle as long as it was safe to do so. “I’m sure help from some Brotherhood force or another will be along soon enough,” he said with a confidence that he didn’t have actual knowledge to backup.

The Miralukan caught up to the others, his feet seemingly finding every particularly loud branch with his feet as he went.

“You thinking a Holo-fake? Do we have enough data on Avitus to pull that off?” Windos asked as the trio continued, slower now, towards the source of the blaster fire.

Jon replied, “Xan can pull off an exceedingly convincing illusion.” He walked with most of his attention focused on the datapad, still cataloging what he now has access to.

“Yes, truth, but I’ve never tried capturing that on Holo… is it actually a physical change?”

Xantros looked at the rest of the strike team approaching his position and scrapped his camouflage.

„Good you are here,” spoke Windos. „We need you to make use of your illusion skills. Jon wants to record a holovid with you posing as Avitus and provoking Rath to leave his mansion.”

The Duros shook his head. „It is not going to work. I can alter my image a bit, but this would be too huge change to pull this trick. It affects people’s mind, not recording devices. I can change my appearance, but it will not get recorded.”

„What shall we do now?” asked Jon unhappy that his initial plan was not possible to complete. „How will we send the message to Rath Oligard?”

Xantros thought for a moment and replied, „Indirectly.”

„Indirectly?” asked Zebina.

„It will not be as effective as a public broadcast, but it still might work,” explained the Duros and looked at two dead member of the Collective nearby. „Another patrol will arrive here shortly. I think I will be able to convince them that Avitus is here and that he killed these people…”

„…and they will report it to Rath Oligard himself. He still might be willing to accept the challenge,” finished Jon Silvon and nodded. „Make it so.”

“ I could make it a trail of bodies. But that may be a moot point.” Aurelis said as she exited the maintenance shed, having finally snapped the gardener’s neck. She pointed up at a security camera at the nearest corner of the bigger building. “ I guarantee we have already been discovered by security. If they are not focused on the spaceward battle.”

Aure crossed her arms over her chest,“ We’d be better off….wait….” she was looking at something over Zeb’s shoulder. A wicked grin spreading over her face, pointing at a truck,“ Or commit arson…”

She walked over towards the truck and hauled herself into the covered bed,“ Half of these cans are full of fuel.”

“Reliably? 1000 meters shouldn’t be an issue,” the trooper replied, his voice heavily modulated by his helmet. “More under favorable conditions.” A crack echoed from above as a lucky turbolaser shot from the ground drilled through a friendly X-Wing, shearing it in two. “These are not favorable conditions.”

The battle raged overhead as Zebina pulled up the topographic map Jon has provided as part of the mission dossier. He and Windos crouched beside the trooper. Xantros and Aure peered occasionally over a shoulder, their attention on the party’s surroundings.

Zebina pointed to a spot on the map. “If you can get him to come from the direction of the palace, here. Won’t matter if he’s in a speeder or on foot.”

Jon looked closely at the spot on the map and then raised his head from the huddle, finding it perhaps a kilometer in the distance to the north. “That hill looks just like Miho.”

Zebina stared at him. Windos would have stated too if he weren’t blind.

“I mean if you squint it does,” he said defensively, shrugging.

Suddenly Aure grabbed Jon by the shoulder, her entire demeanor changed. “Boss, trouble,” she whispered.

As if on queue, two voices broke the party’s hushed silence. “They’re probably slacking off,” one of the voices said.

The other reported, matter of factually, “their implants are pinging from over by that maintenance building and truck.” There was a pause before the same voice continued, “also, you can see the same vitals I can. Dead isn’t slacking off.”

“It is, from a certain point of view.”

The conversation stopped and their steps slowed as they drew closer to the maintenance building. The party couldn’t see them, but they all instinctively understood that the pair of newcomers were alert with weapons drawn.

Windos palmed a flash grenade he’d had on his belt. “I’ve got this.” He slipped around the side of the truck from opposite from the guards. Taking his time as he knew it’d be the only way for him to actually pull off something resembling stealth. He peered around the front of the truck, sighting the two guards, then primed the grenade.

The Miralukan silently counted to four before throwing the grenade in front of the guards. He didn’t wait for it to go off before he ran after it, knowing full well that his particular mode of seeing the world wouldn’t be phased by the device.

The guards looked at the robed figure suddenly running towards them, only to be blinded a moment later as the grenade went off. They opened fire but all their shots went wide. Windos reached them a moment and swiftly cracked their heads together, the pair slumping to the ground unconscious.

“We’re clear,” Windos called to the rest of the party. He cringed at his ringing years, the flash he could ignore. The sound was something he always forgot about.

As the others arrived, Aurelis noticed the guards still breathing. “They’re… alive?” she asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

“Killing isn’t my thing… plus you heard them. Their implants are broadcasting their vitals. Probably not great for them to be dropping off the grid in rapid succession.”

Without being prompted, Zebina retrieved some rope from the maintenance building and used it to restrain the guards.

“We need to put some distance between us and these bodies. I wouldn’t mind seeing the lay of the land for what we’re about to pull off as well.” Zebina said.

Windos nodded, “I assume you’ll need some time for the holo-fake too?” he asked looking to Jon.

“Already working on it,” he replied, patting his datapad. “But yes, some quiet would be good, plus we need to record a base to apply the fake onto. Ideally not with corpses and sleeping guards in the background.”

Windos leaned against a stack of crates. His sightless gaze sweeping over the team, perceiving their auras glowing against the dullness of the surrounding warehouse. He stayed there with arms crossed deep in thought for a few moments.

After a few moments of silence, the Miralukan stood. “Alright,” he mused to himself as he traced out a crude representation of the map onto the warehouse floor. “Obviously, Jon is finishing that holo-fake and prepping to broadcast it. He’ll be challenging Rath to settle their feud here,” he pointed to the spot on map that Zebina had indicated earlier.

Windos turned his head towards the armored trooper. “Zebina, you’re the opening move. Get to your vantage point. Once you have a shot, take his head off.”

Aurelis cocked her head at the last comment. “Uhh, I distinctly remember Mr Goody Two Shoes here declaring ‘killing isn’t his thing’.”

“That’s… the preference. But this one is for the greater good.” Windos paused, then continued his thought, “Do not assume it will be easy. Oligard is paranoid. If he sniffs out a trap, he won’t be alone. Kriff, he may not even come at all.”

“Coward,” Zebina nodded in agreement.

Turning his attention to the Imperial and the Duros, Windos continued, “Aurelis, if this goes sideways and devolves into a brawl, you and I are the frontline. We’ll wait in hiding here,” he indicated a point on the large map close to where they expected their target to be. “We keep the pressure on him and keep him busy. Xantros, this is where your talents come in. If Oligard brings hell down on us, you hit him in the mind. Dig deep. Make him see ghosts. Shatter his mental state. Hopefully that will give us the opening we need to put him in the dirt.”

Windos returned to his crate and leaned against it. “Jon, your call on if you want to go with Zebina so he’s not alone or join the rest of us.”

Jon nodded idly, more focused on his datapad than planning session.

Aurelis who had been sitting next to Jon in the truck bed hopped off,“ Jon is competent enough at this,” she said in a dry joke,“ The rest of us should get into position and maybe not sit idly on a truck bed full of flammables.” she walked towards the treeline,“ He could be planning a counter attack as we speak and setting his own people into positions. I don’t know about the rest of you but he probably won’t recognize me. The only face of mine plastered anywhere was from 17 years ago.”

Xantros looked around and grinned evilly. It was a crazy plan, based on many assumptions. There were more ‘ifs’ than certain parts of the plan. Rath Oligard was a leader of a powerful anti-Force Users organization. He was capable of planning many steps ahead. Man’s mind was definitely strong. The Duros was sure that he was a powerful Force User, but he did not know if his ability to project illusions would be strong enough to break through mental barriers of the Collective’s leader. Still, if other members of the strike kept the Human busy, he might have a chance to succeed.

The Force Adept looked at the map and memorized the location, where Aurelis and Windos planned to wait for Oligard. He needed to be quite close to his target so he picked up a hideout nearby. He knew that there would be no second chance to kill Oligard, so there was no room for mistakes and he did not want to risk a failure due to being too far from their enemy. He looked at Jon Silvon for the last time and vanished into thin air again. Team’s plan was crazy, but it was not the only plan he had. He did not know if he would need to use it, but it was good to be prepared for any potential scenario.

Windos nodded curtly to Jon and motioned for Aurelis and Xantros to follow him. They made their way to the point where they had planned to lay in wait. The journey involved avoiding three guard patrols, which they left untouched. Best way to avoid the risk of raising an alarm, Windos had reasoned.

“We’re in position,” Aurelis reported over commlink.

“Zeb and I are in position too.” Jon responded while he kept watch as Zebina got setup to take his shot.

“Xantros, we’ll be ready to engage. If you think things are going sideways, signal us and we’ll be with you ASAP.”

The Duros nodded and prepared himself for his part in what was about to happen.

“Alright, let’s do this. Broadcasting the message,” Jon paused, for dramatic effect Windos assumed, “now!”

Through the high-magnification optic of his sniper rifle, Zebina scanned the courtyard from the dusty perch near the top of the estate’s grand clock tower. The plaza below was eerily pristine compared to the carnage currently raining down across the Cor'neria system. At its center sat the memorial tomb of the Oligard family. A stark white monument surrounded by manicured flora. It was a serene resting place.

Zebina adjusted his zoom, panning past the tomb to a cluster of decorative hedgerows and marble statues. He keyed his comms.

“Windos, Aurelis. If I can see the broadside of a Miraluka and a patch of bright red hair from up here, so can a paranoid warlord. You two are kriffing terrible at hiding.”

“Just keep your finger on the trigger, sniper,” Windos gruffed back over the secure channel, though he subtly shifted himself deeper into the shadows of the stonework. “You miss, and we’re the ones catching the shrapnel.”

“Quiet. Showtime,” Jon murmured from his spot next to Zebina, his datapad glowing faintly in the gloom of the belfry.

Down in the plaza, Xantros stepped into position. The green-skinned Duros was entirely gone. In his place stood the fabricated image of Avitus Oligard. The illusion was flawless, projecting the heavy, dark robes of an Equite and the prominent silver hilt of a lightsaber resting on his hip. He paced before the white stone of the family tomb, a living ghost waiting to confront his own blood.

Heavy boots echoed against the permacrete. From the far archway of the plaza, Rath Oligard emerged. He carried no grand retinue, nor any guardsmen. He walked alone, his posture rigid, his face an unreadable mask of absolute, chilling anger.

“Target sighted,” Zebina whispered, his crosshairs settling dead center on Oligard’s chest. “He’s alone.”

“Target sighted”

After being alerted that her hair was visible, even with a hood over it, she’d retreated deeper, sliding past Windos out of view. Then Rath appeared, stepping out into the middle of the field. She’d made observations of scenarios like this, watched as the fruits of her labors bloomed, recalled her research on Oligard, the estate’s odd lack of security. Something was not right. Her brows furrowed and she whispered it it outloud. “ Something’s wrong.”

A flash of red behind her eyes, the slightest shing of a drawn blade coming to her ears. She whipped around, drawing a knife simultaneously and BARELY got it up before a crystaline sword came down. Her left hand coming up to brace against the Zabrak’s sheer overwhelming strength and the much larger blade. The back of the knife was cutting into Aure’s palm. Cursing heavily in her head, she had the think quickly, she shifted her stance, her muscles straining to keep the blade off her, she shoulders screamed as she pushed, pushed hard against the blade to her left, just barely enough she could twist her torso enough to get the leverage she needed to slam the toe of her steel reinforced boot into the inside of the Blade’s right knee.

The sound of all this would alert Windos who was behind her, she was now keeping the Zabrak away from the Jedi.

She heard the satisfying crack bone, the Zabrak just growled at her in return. Aurelis took the moment to draw her second knife from it’s place.

Aurelis’s blades *shing*ed off of the Blade’s sword, but it didn’t take long for her to get over powered,“ Kark!” pain exploded down her arm as the diamond sword slashed through her armor, blood dripping onto the ground. She staggard back, but didn’t have time to breathe as the Zabrak was on her again. Barely able to deflect with her screaming arm, “Windos! Get to Jo-” she couldn’t finish the sentance, the Zabrak had executed a flurry of blows that kept her arms and feet moving, her declaration had been immediately cut off with a gurgle as the tip plunged through her skin and out her back, just below her rib cage.

All the strength left her limbs as she dropped to her knees. The blade pulling back out with a sickening sound, the Blade flicked the excess blood from the sword and stepped around Aurelis as she dropped to the ground. Falling onto her stomach, drawing in a shuddering breath as crimson slowly pooled beneath her.

The Zabrak now had his eyes set on the Jedi.

Zebina exhaled slowly as he gently squeezed the hair trigger on his rifle. He heard more than felt the tell-tale click of the weapon’s activation as the trigger passed the threshold and released the tibanna gas from the cartridge and shunted it into the actuator. The gas passed from the actuator into the specialized circuitry and erupted out the end of the black oxide barrel at 800 meters per second.

The green bolt of energized gas lanced across the open space between Zebina and Rath before the sniper had finished his exhalation. The shot was good. It should have canoed the targets head. But it didn’t. At the last possible millisecond a flash of energy erupted in between his face and the death-bringing-end of the bolt, deflecting it back and over Rath’s shoulder. Instead, it flashed harmlessly into the duracrete behind him.

“Oh Sithspawn…” Jon exclaimed. “Did you miss?!”

“What? I don’t miss, Jedi. The shot was per-…”

“Well he’s still standing!” Jon shouted as he pointed at Rath in the distance, now with gaze fixed on their position. Even at the distance, that much was clear.

“I’ve got a bad kriffing feeling about this.”

Without warning the duracrete pad shook in time with a loud bang.

Jon and Zebina looked over their shoulders to take stock at whatever had landed behind them, but whatever it was was already charging across the tower top at them, full speed.

“Dank farrik!” Jon shouted as he drew and ignited his saber, a hair’s breath too late as the robotic monstrosity shoulder ploughed through him, shoulder down, knocking the wind from Jon’s solar plexus and sending him nearly careening over the edge.

Zebina was up with his vibroblade drawn in time to block the swing from their assailant’s vicious double sword. He parried the second thrust and riposted, thrusting his own deadly blade toward the robot’s chest as Jon recovered his balance. The attack struck home. The second coup de grace the trooper would deliver in this engagement. And, like the first, the second would do nothing to his target. The blade slid cleanly through the assassin’s guard, punched through his armor, and stopped dead against the indurate metal beneath.

“Die now,” came the reply.

The armored droid spun its double blade around and, just as Jon raised his saber to renew the attack, cleaved Zebina’s leg from his torso, clean at the hip, with a vicious upward chop. Off balance, the trooper began to stagger to the ground, but the attacker caught him with a roundhouse kick square in the chest, while simultaneously blocking Jon’s overhead attack. The last thing Zebina saw as he flew over the tower’s edge was the back and forth parrying between Jon and their attacker.

It took several seconds for him to hit the shattered duracrete below, his plasteel armor erupting on impact. Every rib in his torso shattered, crushing his heart. His helmet cracked. His skull cracked. And his brain melted under the intense and immediate pressure of impact. And the old soldier was no more.

Realizing that their plan went awry, Xantros dropped the illusion. He did not know what was Jon’s and Zebina’s status after the sniper shot aimed at Rath Oligard was deflected in a different direction by a force field, but there were more pressing issues he had to deal with. Multiple enemies enemies, both droids and people, suddenly appeared and attacked them. He barely noticed that Aurelis was already busy fighting a Zabrak that he immediately recognized as Blade, one of the elite fighters of the Collective. He would normally rush to help her, but he was attacked by another Collective trooper.

The Duros instinctively created a barrier that protected him from the incoming blaster bolt. It surprised his enemy so much that Xantros had enough time to pull out his own blaster pistol and shot the man twice

„Impressive performance, but it will be not impressive enough,” spoke Oligard with a nasty grin. „Were you really so stupid to think that I would fall for such a primitive trap? I came here personally only because you dared to defile graves of my family. I will make sure that anyone that survives the battle will pay dearly for your crime. You will not leave this place alive, but you will feel your own death for long enough to understand the depth of your mistake.”

„Happy to see you around, Rath,” replied Xantros and produced an even nastier grin than the leader of the Collective had. „We will not grant you the same privilege, but you will join your own family at last.”

The Force Adept did not notice a grimace of anger and hatred at Oligard’s face, because he prepared himself to turn the Collective’s advantage in numbers against them. His red eyes lost focus for a brief moment. After almost ten seconds, he waved his right hand. Four Collective’s soldiers standing very close to him suddenly looked around confused. A moment later they looked at Xantros and moved their eyes to the Collective forces and opened blaster fire towards people who dared to fight the Duros. It confused their colleagues, three of which were killed. Some blaster shots were deflected by Oligard’s force field causing even more chaos, but the soldiers swayed by the Force Adept to his side were eliminated seconds later by the combat droids before the effects of the mind trick wore off. It was not much, but it gave him enough time to disappear from everyone’s view and to approach one of the droids from behind. He was right about to attack it, when he sensed a wave of pain and disbelief coming from Aurelis. He looked in her direction just to notice Blade pulling out his blade from her stomach and the Human falling down on the ground.

Windos didn’t need eyes to see it happen. Through the Force, Aurelis’s bright aura just… popped. He felt the hollow void of the wound right as the Zabrak’s crystal sword drove through her. Her life force started draining out instantly, pooling on the permacrete alongside her blood.

“Aurelis!” Windos roared over the courtyard’s chaos.

He lunged. His lightsaber snapped to life with a sharp hiss. The blade was a humming, void-black core surrounded by a harsh white glow, throwing stark, almost monochromatic shadows across the stone as he shoved his bulk between his falling comrade and the assassin. He dropped into a tight guard stance just in time to catch the Zabrak’s next swing.

The impact was absurd. The crystalline blade hit his lightsaber hard enough to actually crack the stone under Windos’s boots. He gritted his teeth, arms trembling just to hold the assailant off.

“Stay with me, Aurelis! Don’t you dare clock out on my watch!” he barked over his shoulder.

Every instinct he had was screaming at him to drop his weapon, get his hands on the wound, apply pressure, and weave the Force into her torn flesh. He compromised, shoving his left hand backward to channel a desperate thread of energy toward her fading aura.

It was a mistake.

The Blade snarled and went on the offensive. A heavy, relentless flurry of strikes forced Windos to drop the healing weave just to survive. He backpedaled, weaving his saber to deflect the blows, but he was entirely boxed in. He couldn’t counter. Every time he tried to push forward, his focus snapped back to the woman bleeding to death just inches behind him.

The Zabrak feinted low, opened Windos’s guard, and planted a steel-toed boot square in the Miraluka’s chest.

Windos’ lungs emptied as he skidded backward through the dirt. He wheezed, ribs aching, but forced himself right back into a defensive crouch. He locked his sightless gaze on the assassin’s dark aura. Aurelis’ light was flickering. She didn’t have much time.

“You want to finish the job?” Windos growled, a dangerous edge bleeding into his tone as he raised his blade. “Then you’d better start swinging harder.”

Aure’s vision was dimming, adrenaline had coursed through, dulling the sharp ache as her lungs struggled to draw in breath. Her fingers felt numb as the heat collected inward to protect vital organs, this…this is how she died?

16 year old her had died the second her Uncle had decided profit was worth more than blood. 33 year old her was going to die deciding that blood was worth more than profit. The irony, was perfect, a full circle. A tear tracked down her temple, she didn’t want to die here, she’d just found them, Mihoshi, Jon, Vincent and now Windos and Xan, a new family, a wierd ass one, but friends, purpose, something worth fighting for beyond survival.

That, made this worse.

The pain started lifting, then surged as things tried to knit together, forced back into place. Then stopped, Windos’s shout of rage. Finish the job her vision cleared enough. Windos was now between her and the Blade, she vaguely felt that his Force was lingering around her, felt the speck inside her belly absorbing some, then implode, sending a surge through her, not healing, strength. Sacrificing itself to give her enough, just enough.

Despite the blood, the numbess, the ache and screaming for her body to stop, that her instincts blared warning sirens in the back of her head to stop moving or she’d die. She ignored them all. She reached for the nearest knife she dropped, her movements sluggish. Set down into a sprinter’s pose, and waited.

One blow, one heavy blow that dropped Windos low, finally it came, and she uncoiled. Launched over the Jedi, screaming in rage, in pain, in a protective instinct she’d learned she possessed. Drops of blood sprinkling Windos, a surprise attack from a woman thought to be near death. Her knife came down on the Zabrak’s wrist, screaming in her ears, she wrenched the diamond blade into her own hands. The force of her arrival causing Blade to stumbled backwards, her last ditch effort. Her last breaths, last centimeter of life left, turned the sword over, and slammed it down between the Zabrak’s ribs and collarbone as he tipped backwards.

Both landed in a crumpled heap, Aurelis straddling the Zabrak’s waist, her eyes filled with rage and chaos. She coughed, blood dripping from her lips. Holding on for dear life as the Zabrak thrashed against her.

Windos felt the Zabrak’s dark aura violently stutter as Aurelis drove the diamond sword deep into his collarbone. Before the assassin could successfully thrash and throw her off, the Miraluka stepped in. His black cored lightsaber hummed, a stark flash of white light severing the Zabrak’s spine in a single, brutal arc. The Blade collapsed into the permacrete, his aura permanently extinguished.

Explosions suddenly rocked the distant bell tower sending a harsh tremor through the courtyard. Windos barely registered it, his focus entirely on the dying woman. “Aurelis, stay down,” he said as he dropped to his knees beside her.

Aurelis coughed crimson, stubbornly trying to push herself up to look for Xantros and the rest of the battle. Windos shoved a hand against the shoulder on her uninjured side, pinning her flat. “I said stay down,” he barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ripping a Synthflesh dispenser from his medpack, Windos flooded the gaping wound with the fast-setting medical polymer, instantly sealing the catastrophic bleeding. In a motion that would indicate closing his eyes to focus if he had them, he dropped his head and placed his palm over the synthetic patch and pushed. A concentrated, radiant wave of Force healing flooded her wound, knitting together ruptured tissue and desperately anchoring her fading life force.

Windos didn’t know if he was subject to strict long-range comms silence. At this point he didn’t care. He didn’t even know if he’d be able to reach who he needed to reach. Regardless, he keyed his commlink, attempting to get a message through to The Sterile Field.

“Ariki,” he growled over the chaotic static. “Drop a MedHeavy shuttle on my coordinates, now.”

Xantros continued to observe Windos’ desperate attempt to defend Aurelis. It seemed that he the Miraluka was going to end up defeated, but Aurelis managed to attack Blade in a sudden surge of adrenaline. Despite being heavily wounded herself, she surprised him and trusted his own diamond sword through his body. Windos used the opportunity to finish Blade’s life with a single brutal arc that severed the Zabrak’s spine. The Master kneeled down and focused his powers to heal Aurelis from her life threatening wounds. Though Xantros could sense the healing effects of Windos’ powers on the Human as her presence in the Force stabilized, he was aware that she would need further medical treatment to survive. A lot of medical treatment. Until then, she would need protection.

Protection! Windos seemed to talk through a commlink, even though none of the strike team members knew if their communication devices were jammed or not. He was probably trying to call some help, but even if he managed to communicate with someone he attempted to reach, some time would be needed for the help to arrive. And Xantros was going to provide them all the time they needed by focusing the attention of the Collective forces on himself. It was against his fighting philosophy, but sometimes there were no other options available.

The Duros slashed his lightsaber through combat droid’s torso as the droid was turning around around to attack Windos and Aurelis. The upper part of the droids moHe heard Rath Oligard barking commands to the remaining troops and droids of the Collective. The leader of the enemy forces wanted the Force Users alive.

„Good,” thought Xantros. „It will make things easier for us and harder for them.”

The Force Adept quickly deactived the purple blade of his lightsaber, grabbed the hilt with his left hand and reached for his blaster pistol. But he did not have time to start shooting as the Collective soldiers and droids focused their fire nn him. He barely managed to raise a protective Barrier, which absorbed and spread out the incoming blaster bolts. Soon, they realized that he was not going to be an easy prey so they switched their attention to Windos and Aurelis.

The Duros used the window of opportunity and eliminated two nearest droids with precise shots that hit their weakest point at their necks. He dropped his blaster pistol and activated his lightsaber again, deflecting some of the incoming blaster shots towards his opponents. One of them was unlucky enough to get hit twice in his chest and fell on the ground. But Xantros did not have much more luck either. He winced as he felt his skin on the right arm burnt. The smell was quite unpleasant. Soon, he winced again, when got hit into his left arm. He groaned and looked around.

There was a Collective trooper almost twenty meters away from him. The Force Adept hastily run towards the man. He felt the Force coursing through his muscles and allowing him to run faster than his enemies expected. Suddenly, he sensed an imminent threat coming and instinctively fell on the ground, rolled,towards his target and got up still running. A heavy blaster bolt would pierce through his intestines if he kept running without the roll, but the Force seemed to like him enough to keep him alive.

Xantros reached his target and punched the man right in the center of man’s face, breaking his nose. The Duros did not care about his hands getting dark read with man’s blood as he kept barely concious enemy in a strong grip. He grinned evilly as he felt the energy flowing from the man to his own body and moving to his hurt arms. The burns started disappearing and the skin regained its normal color as the Human grew weaker and weaker. However, the Force Adept did not have time to finish the healing process in the midst of the battle. Multiple blaster shots hit man’s back killing him instantly. As Xantros’ victim could no longer serve him as a living shield, he dropped the body and focused on deflecting incoming blaster bolts again.

Soon, two more droids got eliminated with their own blaster fire, but Xantros started losing concentration in the prolonged battle. He did not notice a shot that hit his right thigh. He screamed and faltered as his right leg could not support full weight of his body. He needed some time to focus on healing the wound. He quickly looked around and noticed that he was close to the graves of Oligard’s daughters. He limped there as fast as he could growling due to pain he felt and he fell on the ground, supporting his back against the gravestone. He hoped to get just enough time to heal the wound as no one would dare to risk damaging the graves of Oligard’s family, but he was aware that it could not last forever.

„Jon, where are you?” Xantros whispered with desperation.

A small boom and the hissing of ionized smoke caught Aurelis’s attention. She’d sat still long enough for the practical application of the paste, grimacing as it clung to her skin, sealing most of the wound from dust and…..kark, there was more dust. She looked up in time as the rumble started. Through Windos’ grumbling at her to stay still she reacted, tackling the Jedi as a large chunk of rock crashed down right where they had just been, rolling to a stop several meters away. She coughed again, taking in a shuttered breath as the internal wounds tore through the tentative healing that was barely holding her together.

She looked at Windos, muttering something along the lines,“ I expect….to live after this…..” she said it in a soft fading jest as she slumped against him, the adrenaline keeping her moving finally giving out.

The dust from the shattered bell tower choked the courtyard in a thick, gray haze. Windos got back on his feet after Aurelis had tackled him, getting them both clear of falling debris. Her aura violently flickering as the freshly sealed wound tore open. He gritted his teeth, his protective instincts warring with a cold, rising fury.

“Stay down, Phaelor. That’s an order,” he rasped, though he knew she was too stubborn to listen. He gently laid her against the nearest intact block of stonework.

“Hey… I saved… us,” she protested through laboured breaths.

“And,” he started to bark, before continuing with a softer tone, “and I appreciate it.”

Windos pushed fully upright, his sightless gaze piercing the settling debris. Thirty meters away, a crumpled, armored form lay unnaturally still amid the shattered duracrete. Windos took a desperate half-step toward it, his hand instinctively reaching for his medpack, but he stopped short. The Force was utterly empty around the body. Zebina was gone. The old soldier had clocked out for good.

To his right, near the pristine white gravestones of Oligard’s family, Xantros’s aura pulsed with pain. Windos unclipped a bacta bomb from his belt and lobbed it in a high, precise arc toward the Duros. It shattered on impact, coating the Adept in a highly concentrated restorative mist.

Windos took stock of the equipment he’d brought with him. His personal energy shield emitter was burned out. The beskar-flake of the silver sash on his saber arm was heavily scored and largely ineffective now. He wasn’t even sure when either of those items had presumably saved his life.

He scanned the area for, but couldn’t find, Jon. Bastard better be alive, or I’ll kill him.

The death and injury around him ate away at his normally calm, or calm-adjacent, demeanour. What remained was a deeply pissed-off, borderline unhinged Force-user who felt the crushing weight of his broken team pressing down on his shoulders. He was fully prepared to fight as dirty as it took to ensure nobody else died today.

The courtyard had become a quiet tomb, Collective forces had either been defeated or, in very rare cases, had broken ranks and fled. They’d be executed soon for daring to abandon the fight.

Through the billowing smoke, Rath Oligard advanced, his face a mask of hatred.

Windos ignited his black-cored lightsaber, the harsh white aura cutting through the gloom, and activated his lightshield. He stepped out into the open, ready to end this. One way or another. He was joined by Xantros, the bacta and the Duros’ own Force aided healing doing all it would be able to do with the time available.

But as the three men prepared to clash, Windos caught a violent spark of electricity in the ruins of the tower. Beneath a pile of crushed masonry, the mangled chassis of Rutgar-7 twitched. Its metallic joints grinding as the machine stubbornly refused to die.

Xantros looked around and grinned evilly. It was just them and Rath Oligard. No more Collective droids and soldiers, just Rath Oligard. Xantros, Windos and, nearby, Jon Silvon. Aurelis was heavily wounded and she required immediate medical assisstance. Zebina was dead. If the remaining members of the strike team would fail to kill Oligard, the sacrifice of the Humans would be in vein. That was not the way.

But…but it was not going to be an easy task to complete. The trio had an advantage in numbers, but they were all tired, wounded or both. Oligard alone, but he was almost unharmed, surviving the fall of the bell tower with nothing worse than some bruises. His hatred was focused on two Force Users in front of him. The leader of the Collective went ballistic. He kept screaming about how they killed his family and dared to desecrate their graves. The cannonade of words was accompanied with the cannonade of blaster shorts forcing his targets to focus on blocking the incoming blaster bolts with their lightsabers. Though both Force Users managed to protect themselves, they were unable to deflect the blaster shots back at Oligard. Xantros was aware that they would not be able to last much longer. They had to find a way to break the stalemate.

The Duros slowly moved behind Windos, who provided cover for him. The Force Adept took a deep breath to slow down his thoughts. He needed few more seconds to reach Oligard’s mind in hope that hatred and anger the Human felt would make him more vulnerable to the Xantros’ influence. A moment later, the cannonade stopped as the leader of the Collective turned his head towards the graves of his family and opened his mouth wide, looking at something in confusion.

Karking…kark…kark

Aurelis sat, where Windos had deposited her, slumped against the rubble of the clocktower, her arm had clotted up, movement stung. Around her chaos was still going on, she felt so weak, the bloodloss was taking a major toll on her. She lay in the sun with her eyes closed, her injured arm cradled in her lap. She focused on breathing, one lungful at a time. Despite everything, she felt calm and that was, at the time, amusing. Then despite herself, she cracked a small smile, and let out a painful chuckle, instantly grimacing.

Windos had gone to help Jon and Xantros, leaving her alone, and in a strange way she was grateful for the moment. Somewhere in the back of her mind though, sorrow was creeping through, alone, again. The irony that had pushed her earlier when Windos was defending her against Blade. She hadn’t been alone, he’d done his best to heal her, and she’d returned the favor in the only way she knew how. It was not lost on her.

The sun filtered red through her closed lids, soft memories drifted across, some good, some not so good. Some horrific, and at the end of all of them, she’d walked away, alone. This small group, the Clan, the House had provided company, and even in the moments she sat in the dark watching fish drift lazily by they were always nearby, and she had felt it, they were in arms reach. Here, bleeding out, while the others faced Oligard, she was alone, and that actually hurt worse than breathing. She’d taught herself not to cry, lost that ability, and despite her best efforts to hold back the stinging, a tear slipped out.

As if she had finally, finally had the courage to admit it, to herself, outloud. She didn’t want to die in a corner by herself,“ Two minutes,” she whispered,“ Just two minutes.”

The amount of effort it took, was monumental, and several times she had to stop for those few precious seconds to take a breath. She dragged herself towards Blade, initially reaching for one of her daggers she’d dropped, and stopped. Instead, reaching across Blade’s dust covered body and dragged out the diamond blade. The red stained crystal rested in her hand for a moment as she dragged in another strained breath, and coughed, pushing herself to sitting, wiping blood from her chin. Windos was going to be absolutely pissed, but it was better seeing that anger than not seeing any of them that had chosen to trust her again.

Using Blade’s chest and the tip of the blade against the broken duracrete as leverage she pushed off, stumbling back as a wave of dizziness washed through her. She couldn’t waste any more time, she stumbled over some rubble, she slowly turned the corner, reaching for any, and every ounce of strength she had left. Stepping into the open, she could practically feel Jon’s panicked determination and guilt. Windos’s rage, and Xantros’ manipulation.

Aurelis straightened as best she could, they couldn’t fail, she couldn’t fail them. She pulled all that strength, and focus, Oligard was distracted, looking at the graves in confusion, not that she could see the confusion. She brought her foot back, then her good arm, everything screaming at her in protest.

“Not my new family.”

She swung that arm forward, the sword leaving her hand as it flashed, the blade tumbling through the air with the practiced precision of someone who had done this for decades. Aiming straight for Oligard’s unguarded back.

The ambient temperature in the courtyard seemed to plummeted. Windos felt the heavy, manipulative tendrils of Xantros’s power wash over the battlefield, weaving a localized nightmare.

The Lord Superior froze, his gaze locked on the white stone of his family’s memorial. While he was not subject to the vision, Windos could sense the vivid projection Xantros had ripped from the depths of the warlord’s mind. Elizabeth Oligard stood beside the graves, ethereal and trembling. She wasn’t looking at the team from House Sunrider. She was glaring at Rath with utter, horrifying disgust. Behind her skirt, the shimmering forms of his daughters shrank away, covering their faces, terrified of the blood-soaked monster their father had become.

“Lizzie…” Rath breathed, his weapon lowering.

For a fraction of a second, the tyrant’s spirit broke. But Oligard’s mind was a hardened fortress of paranoia and unadulterated hatred. His sheer, unnatural resolve violently rejected the Adept’s intrusion, shattering the mirage. Rath roared, snapping back to reality just as the whistling hum of Aurelis’s thrown diamond sword closed in on his spine.

Rath ripped a stun baton from his belt and whipped around. With a loud crack, the baton swatted the crystalline blade out of the air, sending it clattering uselessly across the duracrete.

He had survived their tricks, but the sweeping deflection left his guard completely wide open.

From the settling dust, Jon lunged. The battered ranger closed the final gap and drove a jagged shard of clocktower glass down into Rath’s left shoulder. It sank deep into the joint, tearing through muscle and nerve. Rath bellowed a visceral howl of agony as his arm instantly went limp, his baton slipping from his deadened fingers to the ground.

Windos didn’t hesitate. The Miraluka pushed off his back foot, bridging the distance in a single, explosive stride. He brought his black-cored lightsaber up, casting a stark, blinding glow over Rath’s twisted face, boxing the crippled warlord in alongside Jon.

“End of the line,” Windos growled, his voice a low, gravelly promise as he leveled his blade.