Log:New Alderaan: No Time Like the Present

Valiant heroes defend the Palace

OOC Date: September 27, 2021
Location: Droalder Palace, Bastion City, New Alderaan
Participants: New Alderaan, Aubrei, Rune, Ulani Kalgaav, Ban Iskender, Bors Thul, Ariel Teral, Chani Tahn, Sorin Endesea, Ewan Eroh, Aryn Cortess As GM, Herself, Ser Lars, and Sir Jitti

The world is in peril, not just from the celestial bodies whose pattern New Alderaan drastically altered, but by political enemies, too. New Alderaan sparked a war with the usurping murderer Duchess Lana Panteer, who nows flexes her power in an effort to catch her enemies by surprise.

It began with the sound of an alarm, sounded by Cortess guards from the city of Bastion who alerted the palace of ships in restricted air space quickly approaching the grounds. Anti-air defenses maintained the integrity of the air around the palace, leaving the rest of the enemy approach to be by foot.

Meanwhile, inside the palace, Royal court had been in session with Aryn at its head speaking with several members of the Delayan security forces. The petition had been to allow Delaya to help patrol the air above; a chance for Aryn to consider their actions those of good Samaritans. The ruse was up the moment Ser Lars Syrush, the First Sword, burst through the back doors and exclaimed, "Your highness, they are imposters!" Ten (10) Panteer soldiers disguised as Delayan security forces drew their weapons and began to attack court members at random. Ser Lars drew his sword and blaster, but was cut off by the crowd of fleeing nobles, unable to help for all the traffic.

Aryn is trapped by the dais, surrounded by ten men closing the distance toward her. They fire at the caped blonde who draws her lightsaber in that instant. "To arms!" Aryn cries out, and she begins to defend herself from the incoming bolts, holding her ground and sending the blue and red lances away from her.

Everyone that is here today, found a reason to be in the palace and is witness to this sudden attack and destructive event. You all find yourselves in the court and banquet hall, a massive and tall room with stained glass and ample seating. The dais, which Aryn is, along with the ten (10) Panteer soldiers, is situated far from the doors where Ser Lars has burst in, and is subsequently delayed by the fleeing court guests. Alarms blare, Alderaanian soldiers rush to their posts, and chaos fills the halls of this once peaceful building as nobles of all banners join to defend their palace.

Among those gathered but off to the side is a young blonde, helmet under her arm and getting a wallflower's view of the proceedings. There is a quirked smile as she can not help thrill of being so close to noble proceedings. She glances upwards at the taller figure beside her that she escorted safely to the location. Invited to stay, she can not help but smile. She leans slightly and whispers faintly to Sorin before she straightens back up and lets her emerald eyes take in her surroundings, even gazing upwards to study the architecture.

But her attention snaps back down the moment Aryn cries out and she lets out a sound as the S-5 is drawn from its place at her side and the safety slit off. Her other hand angles the helmet up and then down over her head as she steps forward and starts to take aim at the clear threat she can identify. Her heart jumps, skips a beat and then speeds forward as the adrenaline begins to pulse through her.

Through many of his last outings, it had become woefully apparent that Rune was unequipped for anything diplomatic, the young Jedi finding himself unprepared when tactful conversation was needed. As such, the man found himself among the diplomats at New Alderaan, sitting quietly by to begin to learns the ins and outs of masterful oration. It was ironic then that a fight broke out when he was looking for words. With a shake of his head the young Ysannan stood and unattached the black metal cylinder from his belt. Hazel eyes shifted over the room as he depressed the silver activation button and a bright green column of energy extended from the emitter. The lightsaber blade was held defensively in front of him while he waited for a target to present itself, the Jedi Initiate's head on a swivel when the battle began.

Ulani sat in the far back; away from the various tiers of Alderaanians. From the royal Princess down to the nobles, the knights, the guards, the commoners, and then... finally. The outsiders. There aren't too many with her in this smaller section but there's more than she had been expecting.

Wearing the armour of a Resistance trooper, Ulani is watching the proceedings with interest when Ser Lars bursts in with his proclamation. What follows is an explosion of action. Sudden attacks, nobels fleeing, and those set to fight rising to their feet to fight.

Ulani is one of those dedicated to stay. Jumping to her feet, she picks up the rifle that was sitting peacefully next to her and flicks the power on. Double-checking that the setting is on stun, her eyes scan the sea of figures trying to make sense of what's going on. 'Go forward. To the dais.' And she heeds that thought, working against the swell of the fleeing crowd trying to get to were the invaders are.

Ban Iskender had been near to the foot of the dais as royal court was underway; clad in the dress armor of the Viceroyal Lir Dragoons- pale grey with gold ornament, surmounted by an elegant green half-cape over the left shoulder. No sooner has Ser Lars raised the alarm than Ban's gauntleted hand goes to the intricate hilt of the sword at his side, drawing the hilt and igniting it's glowing green blade. With the call to arms already made, he does not add more noise to the chaos, instead stepping to the Princess's defense.

Dressed in representation, of a sorts, of the New Republic when all of Corellia's hells open up and shake out this particularly interesting batch of trouble. At court his instincts are clear. The heavy carbine slung across his back is forgotten and the shivering whisper of durasteel clearing its scabbard.

"House Thul for Cortess!" calling out in the name of his own crest; while his elder sister and parents make for cover, rather than join the surge of feet headed for the doors. Bors moves forward, pointing his blade to challenge one of the assailants.

Ariel's been pretty quiet during most of these proceedings on Alderaan and keeping mostly to the Teral's given they were in short supply. Herol had convinced her to wear armor for this outing to the palace though. The man sometimes had a overbearing approach to being a guard but the fiery haired young woman was not going to argue with him. And thankfully she wore the armor! When things hit the fan in the proverbial sense Ariel is quick to reach for the riot control baton that she carries on her out of habit. There's an uneasy look that crosses her face as the thing snaps to life, "Well...I'd been wanting to use this lately, just a shame about the timing." she tells her guard.

Chani Tahn had come to New Alderaan to reflect. One of her first missions as a Jedi had been to the Droalder Mountains, where thick snow, cold temperatures, and howling manka cats had set the tone for her future in the galaxy. She'd been viewing those mountains through the window of a quaint room at Valdo Inn, located in Bastion, when the air raid sirens started. Whether it was intuition or a glimpse of the near future through the Force, Chani's feeling that the palace would be under attack led her through the streets and to its great halls. It was here that the chaos erupted. As diguised soldiers drew blasters on Princess Aryn Cortess, Chani entered through the room not long after Sir Lars Syrush. Fighting through the crowd was not an option.

"Your Highness!" Noticing Aryn alone and deflecting multiple blaster bolts with her lightsaber, Chani skips the crowd entirely. What happens next is not graceful, but it is effective. Allowing the Force to flow through her, Chani calls on its strength to leap up and over the crowd of fleeing nobles and into the fray near the Princess. She very nearly plants her face on the polished floor of the Palace, but avoids doing so by adopting a wide stance. Drawing the metal cylinder from her belt, Chani depresses its activation stud and fills the area around her with a deep blue glow from her lightsaber blade. It does not surprise Chani that Lord Ban is close to the Princess in quick fashion.

Participating in this court session had been an opportunity for Sorin, newly arrived representative and heir to House Endesea, to begin re-establishing his family's connections. Befitting his status as a Knight of Alderaan, he'd arrived wearing a formidable looking suit of powered armor, a crystalline sword the feintest coloration of a clear, blue sky hanging at his side. There had, to this point, been a fair amount of introduction and small talk, some even reasonably enjoyable. Sorin stands nex to Aubrei, whom he had arrived with, and shares in a whisper that draws a faintly quirked smile.

He seems about to reply when madness takes hold, in the form of violence, shockingly sudden, within the court and banquet hall itself. There's a moment of stunned confusion on the Knight's part, as hazel attention sweeps left and right, but it next fixes upon Aubrei. "Battle," he asserts, that crystalline sword drawn with a keep ring, and turns to join shoulders with the armored woman. His helmet is secured by his free hand, raised and secured in a smooth, actuator-assisting sweep of a motion.

Ewan had spent much of the deliberation with his head turned downward, listening, instead of seeing. His sight, all the while, was focused on a small portrait of Aryn he was doing in charcoal in a small notebook he was oft seen carrying. Soft, dramatic lines are drawn, then a moment is taken to smudge out a small shadow. His soft, cerulean eyes were focused intently on the charcoal, while he listened.

Then, creeping up the back of his neck, was a sense of something about to happen. Those cerulean eyes close, as is the notebook, which is then set down. There's a soft exhale and a breathless word. He's on his feet at the accusation, and his shoulder dipping low to push passed the others to make for the open floor. From the small of his back, the curved-hilt of Ewan's lightsaber finds his hand as he rushes forward towards the Jedi Knight he'd been drawing. With a snap of electric energy, the blade comes to life.

"Spread out!.. KILL THOSE WHO RESIST! DUCHESS PANTEER SENDS HER REGARDS!" The leading soldier announces, his soldiers moving toward those who seek to defend their enemies. The throne room is still amid chaos, and blaster bolts are going in each direction. Some find guests, some miss entirely and chip off the walls or large pillars. Those nobles intelligent enough tip over the thick tables and huddle behind them, not wishing to risk being out in the open.

"Clear the room of adversaries!" Lars calls from the back, finally free and rushing the first soldier to intercept him. He bats down their weapon with a swing of his vibro-blade, hitting their arms instead of the weapon and disabling them. Then he twists to generate momentum for his sword, bashing one side of its double-edge against their neck, immediately slicing through their garment and damaging their chest in a manner that ensured they would not rise again. "I count nine (9) still!" Lars commends, appending his blade from bloody bone to wade further into the chaos. "Bloody cowards!"

Aubrei is briefuly distracted by the sword being drawn as well as the others that are pulling amazing weapons. SABER? She smiles and clears her throat as she turns her attention to what lays before them both. Guests fleeing, the bold and brash stepping forward to answer the Princess' call. She aims at her first target and with a steady squeeze she drops one who still breathes but is not ready to lift a hand to the fight.

Once that first target sinks she aims at the next, another of those green stun rings slamming against the chest of her target as she takes a step forward to press her advantage but stick close to the knight in case of possible flanking. She glances over her shoulder to ensure she can see him and others near her.

Amid the chaos, blaster fire is finding nobles and dignitaries, those unable to defend themselves as they're fleeing for the safety of the doors. Rune shifts his position and, rather than attack the foes, lifts his saber in preparation to deflect fire coming their way. The former savage stares down the opposition, eyes alight with the glow from his weapon, tense while he reaches out with the Force to find the next attack that may seek to end the life of an innocent.

In the rush of people -- the screams of panic, the cries of pain -- Ulani pushes against the throng. As she breaks through the chaos into a small patch of calm, she catches at glimpse of a rival quickly chasing after a finely dressed woman. "Get down!" A skid of her boots, a planting of her feet and Ulani fires. It should be noted that this young woman has only ever attacked a training dummy. Ever. So it is with great misfortune she misses her target and great fortune she also misses the fleeing woman who stumbles out of the way and, hopefully, ducks behind an overturned table.

Ban Iskender is slowed only slightly by the chaos as he begins to ascend the dais steps two at a time, leading with a lunge (cuts and slashes requiring more clear space), impaling one assassin, drawing the blade free out the side of the dead man to menace a second. This foe stumbles backward, deftly avoiding the officer's second thrust, but he cannot evade a third as Ban cuts closer to the Princess.

Long steps carry Lord Thul to his destination, blade dropped to en guard pose whilst his stance shifts appropriately - hand tucked at his waist before a lunge sends Bors forward to draw a red weal at the ribs of his target. "Surrender would be appropriate; lest we are forced to shed more blood this day.

The second thrust is through the cage and into the lung behind, a short twist before the draw and the monocle wearing man moves past to leave the Panteer soldier crumpling with a lung filling with liquids. Silent again, grim expression a tainted with some modicum of reproach. Possibly for the need for such gruesome method.

"Lady Teral I insist that you..." Herol is cut off mid sentence as the young lady pulls out the riot baton. He sighs as she heads off and he follows after her. The red head looks anxious, but she raises the baton and then whacks the first Panteer soldier that she comes across. "I know you have some sort of manners, so stop shooting at people." she barks out at the one she gives the tickle to. She brings her baton up to guard, but she's prooooobably going to get shot.

Chani has never taken a life. That doesn't change in the face of the traitorous, murdering Panteer soldiers unleashing blaster fire on Alderaanian nobles without prejudice. As Ban works his way upwards from the bottom of the dais, Chani works to keep the left side clear. The blue blade of her lightsaber sweeps in an arching bisecting motion that cleaves the forward half of a Panteer soldier's weapon off with a stroke from her right shoulder towards her left hip. The violent excitement of the blade passing through the weapon's metal superheats it instantly and leaves the two halves glowing orange where they've separated. The Panteer soldier stumbles back with an outcry, fearing that he himself was the intended target of her blade.

Releasing her lightsaber with her left hand, Chani backhands the blade back up and carves through another weapon with a flash of blue racing across the Delayan security uniform the soldier is wearing. So quick is the movement that the pressure of the soldier attempting to maintain a good, stable firing platform sees the weapon itself vault into the air as if to follow the upward momentum of her stroke. Chani cleaves back down as she sweeps to a third Panteer soldier, feyd-cloth robe rippling around her body in a distracting, mesmerizing sweep of wide sleeves and dark brown garment. The third Panteer soldier has more than enough time to see it coming and wisely backsteps out of the way while his compatriots try to seek out weapons from those that have already been shot or cut down.

Ser Lars' instruction sounds throughout the hall, and but a moment later Aubrei, to Sorin's side, is unleashing distinctive O-shaped stun bolts into that spreading mass of Panteer soldiery. Silver-blue sword in hand, he clears some distance from the armored young woman - though just enough to avoid, you know, stabbing her with a back-sweep of the meter long weapon. Actuator-assisted steps bring him in line with an advancing Panteer soldier.

"You dishonor yourself," Sorin growls, that blade darting out first once, deftly dodged by the Panteer trooper, and then again in a cutting down-slash that slices air, really well, but nothing else. A quick side-long glance to Aubrei confirms she is near, but his attention remains otherwise focused on this particular, and very much still standing, foe.

Ewan's nimble feet carry him forward at a decent speed for the number of people. He rolls around folks, hops a foot here and there, and Ewan's slides past Chani. Where she goes left, he leans right.

Dropping his shoulder, Ewan uses one of the attacking soldier's to slow his rate of speed. The ice-colored blade falls in an inverted dive, skewering one of the weapons of the next nearest soldier. In a continued motion, the blade is brought around and back up, extending from Ewan's wrist to attempt to strike at the others. All the while, his offhand extends towards his rear, balancing himself in each of the fluid motions. When finally he comes to rest, his back is towards Aryn, and the blade is risen along his chest to color his pale face and a pair of eyes that match the blade.

"Your position is untenable," The Echani states softly, shifting his eyes to prepare for an onslaught of fire, "Retreat at once."

The assassins in the throne room are quickly disarmed, disabled, or efficiently cut down by superior fighters. The final pair are dealt with by Lars, who issues a pair of well-executed slices, then impales the second by sliding across the floor into an expert lunge. It's clearly taking a lot out of the partially paralyzed First Sword, who struggles to kick the man off the length of his weapon. He manages it, but that was an ordeal. "Seize those who remain, bind them and toss them below in the jail cells!" Lars says as blue-caped Alderaanian soldiers finally make it to the throne room to help. THIS ROOM IS SECURE.

"Ser Lars," A soldier calls out, "The court yard is under attack, Sir Jitti Tong is said to have fallen in the chaos." Lars breathes heavily and leans on the large weapon he carries, turning from the soldier to the defenders of the throne room. "Your Highness, may I take these defenders to shore up the defenses in the court yard? Their martial skill will prove useful if we are to win the day."

Aryn deactivates her lightsaber but does not stow it back on her belt. "I agree. I must ask for your service once again, my friends. Please follow Lars to the court yard and defend the palace. I will ensure those who fled do so safely, and will regroup when I can." Aryn steps by her friends and jogs to catch up with her fleeing guests.

Ser Lars watches the Princess depart, and after a moment, he hefts his large sword up to rest lazily against his shoulder. "Right.. shall we?"

COURTYARD

The Courtyard is a large, walled in section of the palace with ample gardens, fountains and scenery. Everyone can see the sky from here, and notice that Anti-Air batteries are firing into the air at the squadrons of Delayan fighters. New Alderaanian forces have scrambled to engage as well, giving chase in their fighters and dotting the orange, evening sky with laser lances of cannons. The evening is filled with the sounds of battle as the front gate caves inward from the sudden impact of a reinforced, improvised breaching vehicle. Panteer soldiers pour through to meet blade-to-blade with Alderaanian guards.

Lars regards his group.. "TWO OPTIONS.. YOU CAN GET UP ON THE WALLS AND SHOOT.. OR YOU CAN FOLLOW ME INTO THE MELEE! WE MUST HOLD THE COURTYARD FOR AS LONG AS IT TAKES!" This is punctuated by a laser cannon shot pocking up the earth just outside the wall; the impact vibrates the very ground they stood.

"NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. WITH ME NOW-- NOW WITH ME!" Lars calls, and moves down the steps to engage in the massive melee happening down below.

As the call goes up for them to follow once the room is cleared, there is a nod to Aryn, then Lars and finally Aubrei takes a side step and taps the side of her pistol against her helmet. Off she is, running headlong into the danger that waits outside with Lars leading them out. But upone exiting the chaos become apparent and the warrior turns, pointing to Ulani as Lars is uttering instructions. <"Ulani, here, I will get us up for some clear shots. Hang on to my side, foot on mine."> Instructions given her free arm goes down under Ulani's and with a press of a button the rocket fires.

The launch into the air and up to the second floor of the open courtyard. Mid air she turns with a twist of her frame, giving Ulani the sliding step down to get into place as she faces their closest target and unleashes three shots just before she sets down, glancing back to be sure her companion has found her position. <"Have your back.">

Fortunately Rune's services in defense were not needed, no further shots finding their way toward the innocents at this time. From an outside perspective, it might have looked like the young Ysannan simply decided to stand between the fleeing folk and the attacks to have a dance session as he waved his lightsaber around. Once the room was clear and all the attackers disabled or killed, the call to bolster the Courtyard came. The group was met with a cacophony of sounds after they followed Ser Lars out the door: Explosions, screams, yells, blaster fire, the clash of durasteel and strangely a bit of laughter greeted them all in the opened expanse of land.

Not missing a beat, Rune stepped forward to engage the foe, his lightsaber passing easily through one combatant before he put on a light show for a second, the soldier well equipped to dodge his every attack.

Ulani hitches a ride with the Mandalorian with a surprising amount of gung-ho! All those bomber runs with Ektor must be taking their toll because there is no hesitation from Ulani as she runs up to Aubrei and off they go! The two of them together perform what can only be described as a deadly aerial dance. A graceful turn in the air and then a landing slid on the top of the wall, Ulani fires into the next nearest target, sending the stunned man falling from the wall. "Freed up some space!" There's little time for her to be too proud as the courtyard is filled with more attackers as well as on the wall. "I got you, as well," she says to her battle buddy Brei.

Ban Iskender's stoicism bends into a solemn frown as he hears word that Jitti Tong is believed to have fallen. A short dip of his head and shoulders to Aryn, and he turns without a word to move outside with Lars, cape flaring with the sharpness of his turn and stride. "Once more, sir," he asides to Lars, emerging promptly I to the courtyard, green sword raised vertically before him in a swift salute before the Jedi starts forward at a run toward the breached gate, laying about himself with classically trained swordsmanship, and leaving three of the invaders dead in as many instants.

Blade up, high guard, Bors takes off with Lars when the option is to charge into the melee. No intent to shoot from the wall, surging down into the mass of soldiers. Jostled one side then the other. The edge of his blade skittering across a shoulder pad before he is forced to parry. Parry again and shift back with a wild swing that goes wide.

"Well then." another jabbing thrust turned aside, the foppish Lord Thul gives a snorting glower through his right eye, "Right! That's quite enough!"

Ariel's shooting a look to Herol as she turns to head outside into the courtyard with the others, "Just don't tell my grandmother and everything will be fine. Really." she tells her guard. He gives a bit of a stern look to the woman before they are met by more Panteer soldiers. Ariel swings the riot baton at them and is met with the crossing of blade and baton to which she looks to her aggressor, "I'm going to hit you with this somewhere you don't want it to be shocked." she whispers to him.

The Droalder Palace is bloodied. Between the carved out pock marks and carbon streaks littering its walls and floors, there are numerous bodies of foes and allies alike. Many bleed on the polished marble, with the pools spreading slowly out along its gleaming surface. Chani looks on the sight with an impassive mask, but the sadness in her eyes is prevalent. Depressing the activation stud of her lightsaber a second time, the blade disappears and the thrumming of energy through her tingling hands disappears. Sir Lars asks for help in defending the Palace and Aryn bids those gathered a farewell. Chani's not sure the Princess should go to her task alone, but Aryn doesn't need defending and the greater issue of the Palace not falling to the Panteer invaders stands.

The courtyard outside is a study in dichotomy. The once-peaceful gardens, with their everblooms and greens, now serve as backdrop for the battle. Chani spares a moment for the sky. Its once beautiful canvas now serves as home to Alderaanians who slay each other for political and power machinations. Lars' speech motivates many of the blue-robed troopers who seek to defend their palace and home, but Chani is not inspired in emotion. There is a simple truth here: there are sentients who are storming the grounds and killing everyone that they can and they do so unprovoked. Her goal is to stop them, and she can do so without bloodshed. As Panteer soldiers stream in through the breach, Chani activates her lightsaber. It's distinctive snap-hiss is almost lost in the cacophony.

"Please surrender. Lay down your weapons and no harm will come to you." This is not a moment of hubris, in which a superior warrior grants her enemies peace. She implores them, and the sincerity inherent in her plea truly wishes to avoid the conflict they bring to New Alderaan's doorstep. The answer is raised blaster rifles primed to fire. Chani darts left before the first blaster bolt unleashes. It craters the granite steps behind her. She stabs at the weapon, but the soldier twists away. A deeper stab forward and down allows her to sweep up. The tip of her blade carves upwards through the weapon between its power pack and the trigger guard, narrowly avoiding the soldier's fingers and the inside of his left arm. The weapon is useless, and Chani is already moving.

She steps in and to the right, once again moving out of the way of a barrel sweeping to the position she used to be. Her left foot shifts out behind her and her right extends almost to between the soldier's spread feet, allowing her to make a short, diagonal carve from right to left that almost leaves the soldier's blaster rifle turned into some makeshift, beveled spear. He drops it and flees, and Chani resets her defense, hands close to her center of gravity and blade angled forward and up. Her feet shift into that line Lord Iskender drilled into her, allowing her to have both a solid base to fight from and a zone to control.

Sorin extends his sword arm in silent salute as Aubrei braces with Ulani and rockets up onto the rampart, and then falls in with the advancing wall of that ever-solidifying New Alderaanian defense. This is real conflict, not an unannounced but suddenly upon you melee at a dive bar, or that final moment when a hunt reaches it's terminal conclusion. This is war. As the overhead screams of interceptors and fighter-bombers play against eachother, a line of mixed-armored forms, plate next to robes next to boiled leather, advance into a grand skirmish.

Sorin finds himself squaring off against a Panteer brute. Is that a TRIDENT? Sorin swears he can hear the Panteer tell the man to his left, "I stabbed a man in the heart!" to which he receives back, "I saw that! Slab killed a guy!" Sorin, though, has little time for any of this, and with a /HEAVE/ that crystalline sword is... deflected. With a grunt of effort he pulls back in a short slash that takes Slab mid-chest, dropping him - and his trident - for the moment. For many moments, most likely, as he looks quite down for the count.

Following the lead of the others, Ewan follows along, but not before raising a hand and summoning the notebook from his seat. In the Courtyard, his eyes scan a moment to glance around the battlefield that was overtaking the courtyard. "They wasted no time," he mutters under his breath, before the breaching soldiers started to press past the Alderaanian Guard.

Ewan leans forward to meet the oncoming rush. Immediately, one of the Panteer Soldiers seeks him out. The icy lightsaber blade rises, which forces the enemy to sidestep. A second feinting strike causes the enemy to stumble a moment, falling into Ewan's trap. When it seemed as though he had weakened, Ewan drops low, extending his wrist to swipe upward along the Panteeran Sword, rendering it scrap metal. His weaker foot is dragged under his core to finish the movement, and he shoulders the soldier away.

"Turn away from conquest. Seek diplomacy to make yourselves heard," Ewan says, already seeking the next blade that wished to square with him, "The price for the sword is far too great."

The chaos of the battle increases as more soldiers arrive to clog up the walls and fire down into the crowds below. These soldiers turn their gaze toward Ulani and Aubrei as well, opening fire and closing the distance. Down below, it's still a melee, and there's so much blood spilled that the ground is turning to mud. Swords clang loudly, and above that sound is the noise of blasters and explosions. Another pair of fighters zip by overhead, and night begins to fall, leaving the courtyard to be illuminated by the flickering lights, effected by the damaged power infrastructure.

Ser Lars wades deep into the conflict, crossing swords with two men and killing one within the first seconds of the altercation. He transitions from cutting the man down, to engaging the second and harming them. Their swords meet, clanging loudly, and the First Sword advances confidently, pushing the blade from his path and preparing to kill the soldier in his next flurry.

Alderaanian soldiers appear to be taking the brunt of the attack, many of whom are falling and being shot down. A group of Delayan soldiers kick over one of the banner posts and yank down the Princess' colors, waving it menacingly as if to destroy or befoul them.

Aubrei shifts, moving out of the way with a tilt and lean of the fire and continues through the steps to keep from tumbling over the side. She turns about to switch feet only to watch as Ulani takes a hit and there is a held breath to see if she will stand. But her back comes to Ulani's as she speaks outloud ot the other woman. <"When you need to leave the wall, you tell me. We will make our exit."> Trying to address the wound here would be foolish but her unsteady hand and the extensive numbers they are facing causes her to curse below her breath.

Not such a good showing as she eyes her pistol as the alignment just does not seem right, could be the angle she is at, either way those stun rings do little to nothing. <"Hold still!">

Rune had just managed to roll out of the way of an attacker's blow, the sword glancing off his belt as he shifted to the side, when his eyes alight on Aryn's banner being pulled down from one of the posts. Creating a bit of distance between himself and his engagement, Rune lifts his hand to summon the Force, using that power to pull her colors from the man's grimy fingers. The Cortess banner flies swiftly away from the shocked soldier and comes to land in Rune's outstretched palm. "I am afraid not." is all he states, the emerald blade lifted in defense once more.

'You look like you have something worth fighting for.'

'Expect some calm, maybe some jokes, followed by pure and terrifying chaos.'

'You fight until you can't fight!'

Ulani finds herself on her knee, a searing pain in her chest robbing her of several precious breaths; various voices echoing in her head. A blur around her. A buzz. Confusion. She hears Aubrei's voice nearby. Something about... an exit? Ulani is quick to shake her head and push herself back to her feet, drawing her rifle.

The banner of House Cortess is toppled and the banner waved mockingly. People are dying. Ulani, squinting in pain, lets her thumb flick the toggle from stun to kill and fires a red bolt towards the offending usurper. It misses... and there is a mixture of disappointment and relief. Very muddled emotions. And lots of burned skin.

Ban Iskender's attention is largely focused on his immediate surroundings; the flow of the battle, the rise and recede of morale in the soldiers nearest him- but he senses when the Cortess banner is taken, and an intense indignation rises in him with the sight... But then Rune conjures the banner from their hands and Ban spares an instant to mark the initiate with a brief nod and salute across the field- whether or not the gesture is seen. Then the dragoon turns his sword back to battle, parrying a bolt and striking down a further pair of foes.

ThhhHHHHTLINK!

A sparkling shimmer cast through the air, a split link rendered in twain and spinning in dual spiral away from the Lord of Thul - the chain that hangs from his monocle is now wildly twisting about, flicking against shirt and neck. It remains yet in his eye, by force of will and PROPRIETY! Even with his vest scored by the blade! Even with the red welt forming where the chain snaps against his neck.

"Bounder!" Bors! "RAPSCALLION CUR!" LANGUAGE. BORS.

His vengeful mood is for not though, for each attempt to find his foe is met with only air or deflecting blades to turn aside his own! If they were in fighter craft, he'd be showing them! That's quite for certain, but for now the pilot lord continues to wheel and riposte through the melee.

Ariel gets shot and Herol who is off dealing with the blocking some of the incoming gives a bit of a stunned look. The armor absorbs some of the damage, but, she's going to be toddling off after this to heal. Until then, the redhead looks over the electric field that sparks up and down the weapon she's using and there's a moment of calculation before the Courtesan drops low and swings the baton upwards. It connects with the Panteer soldiers stomach. At least she spared him having to be shocked in the nethers. Because that might have been felt by a lot of people on the battlefield.

Chaos. Screaming. Battle. Lightsabers flash, soldiers are disarmed and killed, and a mix of aerial combat and droning fusial engines sometimes washes out all other sound. It's not dark and raining, but Chani knows this place. It's Point Besh on Munto Codru. It's a dozen others, too, where the worst of emotions boil to the surface and compel those capable of intelligent thought to set aside logic and instead follow blindly into the darkest recesses of their primitive minds. Her brown leather boots are slick against the ground, but she compensates with shallow steps and never over-comitting to an attack. A spike of danger flaring up her spine like a cold chill and a harsh bark of a voice somewhere in the back of her conscious thoughts has her adjusting to her left.

It's just in time to angle the tip of her blade down and sweep it left to right. The blaster bolt that would have caught her in the stomach is batted away into the ground and Chani capitalizes on the momentum to step in towards another soldier. The angular left of her lightsaber blade from left hip towards right shoulder sees her left hand abandoning the bottom of her lightsaber's hilt once more to cleave another weapon in twain. She doesn't let it swing high, but turns towards her left and brings it down. Single-handed grip, Chani makes some loose semblance of an hourglass, if it had angular and straight sides rather than curves. The Panteer soldier she's facing quickly retreats, with the common sense to move the stock of the weapon from his shoulder to under his arm, so he can withdraw the blaster rifle away from Chani's neutralizing cuts.

Surrounding Sorin, the torn up soil, become mud with the blood of the fallen, coats his armored boots and becomes slick. There is little room for thought beyond the next parry, counter, and kill. It must be that, for the alternative is to be countered, and be killed.

A Panteer soldier rushes Sorin, a great axe held in strong hands. Its sweep may have struck the man were it not for the actuator-assisted quickness of a side-step, leaving the axe-head to whistle past. The knight sees an opening even as that moon-curved blade edge sweeps around, on high and then pulled low in a reflexive parry. Sorin drops to a knee, the durasteel poleyn of his armor sinking into bloodied mire of mud and grime, and draws his sword in a side-stroke that impacts with armor-rending force. The Panteer soldier drops with a cry, but immediately Sorin is set upon by the man that had been at his back. Pushing forward, and half-risen, the Alderaanian knight lunges forward, spearing this newest assailant. Blade sheathed within armor and flesh, Sorin suddenly finds himself face to face, his opponent's turned white. "I do you more honor than you deserve, to allow you to fall upon my blade." A servo-assisted boot strikes the man, sending him back, into mud, freeing Soron's crystalline weapon.

Ewan pauses a moment to eye the others that came into the courtyard with them. Already, their own side was starting to show some wear. "Rally, Defenders," Ewan calls out, "Evacuate the wounded back to the Palace. Form a column." He indicates a point to rally by raising the icy lightsaber high, and bringing it down to point at the central breach point. "Split their forces!"

At the raising of his usually soft voice, Ewan makes himself equally as much a target as a beacon. Planting a foot, he manages to flick his wrist, dismantling a sword as it swings against him. With his left hand falling beside him, he slips into a bladed stance again, as the blade clatters at his feet. He leans to the right, forcing one attacker to abandon his attack, before Ewan steps backwards quickly. A sword clatters in front of his feet, and the curved hilt inverts inhand to fall upon the hilt of the weapon. The attacker's face is bathed in a pale blue light as the lightsaber spears his weapon, causing him to fearfully scramble backwards. Those cold, Echani eyes of Ewan's settle on him, coldly, though there was a warmth in his intentions. "Your cause is unjust, and you stand astride a failing coup. Surrender, and seek the mercy of Alderaan's heirs," he says, meeting the fearful man's eyes.

The battle continues as it has, though the number of people fighting it begin to decline on both sides. Amidst the chaos, the Knight said to have fallen is seen emerging from the chaos from being trampled. Muddied, bloodied, and beaten, the armored warrior shoves a group of people away from him using his sword as the barrier. "Ahhh!" He screams, stumbling to one side only to find his feet and suck in mouthfuls of air. "Where are the reinforcements?!"

"WE ARE THE REINFORCEMENTS," Calls back Lars, who cuts down another man and engages a second. Breathing heavily, the partially paralyzed First Sword is beginning to show his weakness. Rist poison be damned.

Soldiers take heed of Ewan's call, and wounded are pulled back whilst the able still hold a line. Jitti is one of those pulled back, but he does not retreat from battle. Instead, the deceptively capable Knight joins the ladies on the wall. "I will be damned if I miss this one," He says in his hasty-toned voice, drawing his dirk to join his sword in lieu of close quarters. "Come on then! FOR ALDERAAN!"

As Jitti joins them, the visor turns to regard the knight for a split second. That is all that is needed for the shot to hit her center mass. Her chest armor absorbs the shot and mitigates all the damage intended for the young woman. She hisses out through her teeth and finds her target, retracing the angle of the bolt so as she takes a step forward an extends the pistol she slams her first shot in retaliation which ends up with a result she had not intended. The fall is not going to be a fun one but there are others to contend with that do not so much care for her or those around her.

THe second shot is lost in the fray and then the third finds its target which is also unsettled and goes toppling off the side in a flailing of limbs and a loss of his weapon. <"Ulani, stand strong."> Simple words but meant to bolster those around her.

The banner is placed on his shoulders and tossed once about his neck, acting as more of a scarf to leave his other hand free. Catching Lord Ban's salute, Rune lifts his own green saber in kind before sweeping it down to the side. That matter settled, the young Jedi moves to the side just as a soldier had decided to try to take advantage of his change in focus. With the attack sidestepped, Rune twists the saber to hack downward at his unlucky foe, the man bisected as he passes by. It seems the message registered for the next individual who stepped up, this fellow darting back before either of the Initiate's attacks can come close.

Perhaps Bors has passed on his curse of getting shot in the leg or mayhaps Ulani should learn to move /and/ fire. So many rules in war. A marksman takes a bit of offense that the blue stun donuts of Ulani's rifle suddenly turned into red darts of hot death -- regardless of how badly it missed. Her left leg takes the hit. Her knee buckles and she falls back into a kneel. This time she isn't able to get herself back up, but she manages a "I'm... I'm okay..." over to Audbrei. She doesn't in the least believe it, but for the moment she has to pretend that she does. Ulanni fires back at the marksman, forcing him to duck for cover but ultimately leaving him unharmed.

'Stand strong!' Ulani tries to rise to her feet again, but fails barely into trying. She does her best swallow the pain and line up a shot that might hit someone.

"Well met once more, sir," Ban calls to the uncovered and not dead Jitti Tong. The call of 'for Alderaan' from the walls, is answered (after cutting an incoming vibrosword in half with a parry) with an upraised lightsaber, and a clear, resonant shout of, "Alderaan endures!" He continues advancing toward the thickest knot of Panteer invaders, wading through the melee in a swathe of emerald thrusts, cuts, and parries.

A fierce series of parries and steps meaning to find himself in a better position. Durasteel clashing and chips of metal from harder strikes catching edge instead of flat becomes more heated an Bors tries to press. Blades clashing, monocle knocked loose at long last with a backhand to his face that is responded to by way of his shoulder thrust into the chest of his assailant.

Glimpses of others are caught, Ban's saber flashing, Lars, Jitti. Ulani on the wall - wounded. "Ula!" foolish. Boyishly foolish, really Bors. Distracted so?

He is repaid for his forgetting his lessons with a blade passing just to one side of his kidney on its way to thrust out the other side of his abdomen, on the flank. "OH! OH!!" it's an angry shock! Repaid with a wild swing that cuts across the belly, pouring blood while internals threaten escape, falling with their owner - leaving the damn sword in Bors.

"Gads... Blast it all." that's painful.

Ariel's stubborn, but with the stabbing that's happened it throws off the energy that she was feeling. Adrenaline is starting to fail and that means she's not as enthusiastic in her swings as she was. She should probably lay down the baton and give up, but there are others still fighting and she feels like she should for her home as well. The baton clangs against the metal from the weapon that stabber her and she wobbles a little. She'd be fine!

Are there less people in the courtyard now? Standing, maybe. Chani knows better than to assume that means the battle is coming to a crescendo. There's no telling how many Panteer soldiers are outside the wall or what others might be trying to blitz the Palace if some of Lana's forces can disable the anti-air turrets that currently keep the air around the Alderaanian stronghold clear. It's a constant discharge of destructive lances that pierce through the sky at the swarm of fighters trying to find some gap in the defense. Somewhere close, a resounding explosion rattles through Chani's body as an engine-clipped starfighter spirals out of control and smashes into the nearby forest. It flattens trees and kicks up a cloud of thrown debris and dirt.

Ewan calls out for the forces around him to rally, and Chani glances to the Jedi just in time to see him injured by one of the Panteer soldier's blades. Switching her lightsaber to her left hand, Chani elevates her right arm. Through the symbiotic relationship she shares with the living energy of the universe, by will alone does she fling the Panteer trooper away. It's done with such force that he cartwheels into the melee, losing grip of his weapon and likely finding it difficult to tell the sky from the ground for the few seconds that it takes for him to hit the ground with a teeth-shaking imapct. Certainly enough to knock the wind out of him. "Are you alright?" Chani has to yell it to be heard.

It's a hard line to hold, but hold it they are, and Sorin finds himself beset upon by yet another Panteer man-at-arms. This one, longsword in hand, cuts hard in a downward crush but there's a scramble backward, armored legs biting into bloodied soil and he's missed. There's a push down with his free hand, crystalline sword darting from the side in a hack at the Panteer's midsection that doesn't clear air, and a desperate slash in the reverse in attempt to pre-empt the swordsman's next attack that is deflected.

The rallying call from Ewan's lips, and the declaration of their purpose being flawed, drew the ire of one of the soldiers. Knowing Ewan was most dangerous at the end of his lightsaber, the Pateeran soldier pulls a dagger free and dips low, charging Ewan's position from the flank to try and tackle him entirely. It doesn't entirely work, as Ewan holds his balance, even as his feet slide along the floor. Suddenly, the man's flailing arms manage to bury a dagger just under his left clavical. Almost immediately, a red stain begins to pool, staining his white inner robes.

"Impressive gambit," Ewan mutters, sputtering some as the pain is brought under control by his natural techniques. "Let me introduce--" The Echani would have given the attacker a name, given the chance. He drew blood, he deserved as much. But, before Ewan could do that, the individual was flying end-over-end away from Ewan. Ewan's offhand rises as he glances sidelong towards Chani, bowing his head for just the slightest moment, in thanks. The dagger is pulled from his chest, and cast to the ground. "Thanks to you," he offers in gratitude, before he returns to a bladed stance in time to send another attacker aside. "To bleed for those who cannot, to bleed for Alderaan..." He says, narrowly stepping aside as an attacker steps into his circles. The saber rises high, missing, before he follows through with an attack that also misses. Suddenly, Ewan switches his stance, slamming his left foot down into an appel that catches the man offguard just long enough to cut through the attacker's crossguard.

With the line forming, Alderaanians plant their shields into the ground. Unable to get past the shields, the forces of Panteer are left to run right into them, only to be gunned down by the Alderaanian marksmen now reclaiming the walls. Sir Jitti Tong gets tangled up with a man and stabs them with both dirk and sword before finally kicking them off the edge.

Below, Ser Lars finishes a man with a tired, solid strike across their chest only to cross swords with another.

Joining the fray on the walls is another lightsaber wielding combatant. Aryn attempts to send a group of marksmen over the edge but only manages to stir the dust around them. "Drat!" She curses, but joins the fray all the same.

"THE NUMBERS FAVOR US.. TAKE BACK THE COURTYARD!" Screams Ser Lars, who breaks the shield line to charge on those few who remained to fight. Meanwhile, Jitti moves to engage the last of the marksman, both weapons marked with someone's blood.

Hold the line. Aubrei watches at Jitti breaks froward to engage directly and Aubrei adjusts for his place in battle, sweeping her gun to the side as she can hear the calls and cries from those around her. Lars is signaling to push forward which means the fight has swung in their favor. Keeping that in mind she seeks to strike out at those shooting at their comrades below. The first shot sends a marksmen down, cluttering up the wall with is body. More prisoners for the princess.

She spins about and misses the next target, her gaze unseen flits below to those engaged face to face, catching sabers and swords alike. It is a wonder. Something to see.

It emboldens her and she rushes forwards, releasing her shot and shoving the man back after, watching him drop as she kicks his weapon side and further away with a colorful skidding sound. She turns just a moment to check on Ulani, seeing her still engaging means she gets a nod.

Draped with the colors of Cortess, Rune moves back into the fray, his saber creating a blue of emerald energy about him in the deepening night. Concerned for the ones that have been taking wounds around him, he delves forth, slicing enemies down as he goes. A cut of his weapon here ends one individuals murderous intent, a slice with his blade there drops another soldier before he can do harm to one simply defending their homestead. Finally, with a spinning pull of his saber up, arms are lopped off the last one, preventing the Panteer's blade from wounding another. "We have them, just keep fighting!" Rune calls, adding his voice to the shouts for strength.

Realizing she cannot stand, Ulani is fighting a small battle with herself. Stay focused. This is a battle and there's no room for any personal plights. Oh, but there are personal plights abound. Somewhere down there, she knows, Bors is in the thick of it and the fact she's not seen him since the fighting broke out brings a great deal of worry to her mind. Especially with so many bodies on the ground.

Focus. Time for that later.

Ulani braces her rifle against her shoulder, lining up the shot that ultimately misses. Ground combat? Not her forte, but we all have to start somewhere. Yet this is where, sadly, she ends. What started as a hot yet numbing pain in her thigh has spread like wildfire; lighting up every nerve ending on the way. Her chest still tight for the hit and breaths difficult, Ulani's grasp on the rifle laxes. It dangles from its strap on her shoulder as she braces on both of her arms.

Ban Iskender sees the royal guard establishing a defensive line, a d finds himself moving toward the end of the line, where a desperate attacker might try to slip around. He draws near Sorin in the move, giving a brief salute to the other swordsman before a last push of invaders hits. Moving with a duelist's precision, Ban holds the end of the line, cutting down three in swift succession.

He's got a damned sword in him and the kid is saying he needs to help take back the yard. "Bugger all." we're not going to even bother trying to get Bors to watch his language. A passing soldier tries to parry the blade sticking out of him and it pretty much puts Bors to a kneel with one eye squeeze shut - decided now. Quite decided. He'll opt to risk bleeding out.

The blade is pulled from him with a wheezing, but -very- manly, squeal before he casts the loose sword at another warrior; easily batted aside before Lord Thul is on them, "Have at thee!" yeah! That's the spirit! A pair of short jabs, and Bors is drawn to the ground again - because holding up the blackguard on his sword edge is just too much right now.

"Ha-ow!"

Ariel's bleeding and there's not a lot of work arounds for trying to keep up the energy needed to fight when one has been stabbed. She still takes a swing, giving an un-lady like grunt of determination as she does, but she doesn't get the hit. Her grip is loose on the baton, she doesn't let go of it. She keeps herself upright for as long as possible, "I've been through worse." she tells the one she's facing off against. And she very much had. This didn't scare her.

A grimace. What little she knows of medicine is from time spent near the Princess of Alderaan. Chani barely has time to suck in a breath to try and ward Ewan off from yanking the dagger out when seeing his hand rise towards it. It's a futile thing. The dagger is yanked free and the clothing the Jedi wears begins showing the spread of blood flowing from the wound in his shoulder. Ewan turns to fighting after expressing his gratitude and Chani does the same. She's tired. No amount of patriotic screaming by the amped up knights or Alderaanian forces ease the aching burn that seems to pulsate through her legs and arms. Each movement is protested by her muscles, but her mind remains clear. She draws on the Force for calm. Pain is temporary. The Force is eternal.

Like Ser Lars Syrush and others, Chani moves beyond the shield wall to address the remnants in the courtyard. Those she faces wield blades. She baits one with her guard low and her weight seemingly distributed on her forward foot. It commits fully to the back when he lunges and Chani's lightsaber simply dismantles his weapon mid blade. The business end falls uselessly to the ground, leaving the soldier holding little more than a hand-and-a-half sword. A charge from her side sees her quickly sweeping her right leg back and pushing into a retreat with her left, with her blade angling outward and tip down to once more cleave through a sword blade meant to pierce her through the right side. The one advancing in from behind his comrade does so immediately, but Chani wards him off with a broad, quick sweep of the thrumming blue blade in a horizontal arc in front of it. Its mere passing through the air in such a quick motion makes it growl in warning.

Back on his feet, Sorin observes as Ser Lars exhorts the defenders into a general offense. Crimson-tinged mud smeared upon much of his armor, he takes those first steps beyond the shield wall, helmet displaying that interior holographic readout in such a melding of ancient valor - seen to his left and right - and modernity. Part of that ragged yet formidable line, the shield wall is left behind and battle is met anew. An incoming mace swing is parried with a hard ring of crystal, Sorin's first counter itself parried, but a second biting into a weakness of armor that has the Panteer soldier screaming as he falls. "For Endesea! For Cortess! For Alderaan!" The shout is made he begins running forward, blade to the side, in search of something to strike at.

Seeing the success of their comrade in charging, a pair of soldiers follow suit and, knowing their time drew close, let out a bellowing cry. Ewan was prepared for it this time, and as they charged his position he got a little ... humiliating. Straightening in place, Ewan brings his lightsaber up against his chest again, with cold eyes watching the attackers. They were outmatched by the Echani, but, fighting for something their twisted minds believed in.

A sudden downswing sends one of the attackers diving forward with only a synthetic leather hilt in his hand. Ewan's saberhand twists into a moulinet, with the blade arcing in a broad circle towards the other attacker, who trips over a pair of now-falling pants. That's when he saw the other one, in the periphery of his vision, preparing to hurl a dagger towards one of his comrades. Heavy footfalls hit the ground as Ewan is carried forward, rushing to beat the launch of the thrown implement. He was almost late, but a quick lunge catches the enemy just in time, speared on the end of his lightsaber. The throwing dagger falls from his fingers, clattering to the floor.

The Panteer forces are withdrawing in haste, scattered or repurposed for an assault elsewhere in Bastion. Aryn, who is atop the wall, tries again with her command of the Force but accomplishes little to the task she had in mind. Still, the invaders are retreating. She waits at the edge of the wall just as Jitti Tong kills another pair, casting both over the edge before falling to his knee to /just/ breathe. "The battle is won, Princess." He says, watching with a bloodied gaze.

The view that lay beyond the wall is black smoke towers and a dark horizon of orange fire in the city of Bastion. It had to be retaken, but the Palace yet stood.

The breaching vehicle pulls back, revealing the same sight to those who fought in the courtyard. They could see the city beyond, the fiery horizon, the laser lances of fighters overhead. It seemed dark, like Alderaan would not pull through this.

Aryn unclips the flare gun from her belt and aims it up, pulling the trigger and releasing a red flare that shot into the night sky.

The orange flare was a signal that a small battle was won. It climbed high above, then curled and slowly began to fall. Orange light illuminated the courtyard and surrounding fields. For several long moments, it seemed like this was the only flare to mark a victory.

Then...

Another shot up over the Bastion city, near the southern district. And another to the west. Another is seen by the starport, and several along the forest. Soon the night sky is filled with orange flares.

One spark of courage ignited the fires of hope.

As the flair goes off the adrenaline does not immediately drain. Aubrei turns, putting side her gun to move towards Ulani and kneel beside her. SHe pulls off her helmet and sets it down on the ground, leaving it there as she places a stabilizing hand on the other woman's shoulder. "Lets have a look at that wound, hard won in battle. Well done." The reassurance is there even as gloved hands begin unfurling all the implements needed for field dressing.

"You held the line," she nods, giving Ulani a look with her deep emerald eyes. "You will survive and be stronger for it. Ready for next time."

With the fighting done and the courtyard and Palace saved, Rune depresses the button on his lightsaber hilt once more, this time the green blade slides back into the darkened cylinder with a squeal. With a sigh on his lips and weariness in his posture, the lightsaber is replaced on his hip and the young Jedi moves to Bors to offer the man a hand up. "Well fought. Are you alright?" He asks, taking care in assisting the man of Thul to rise should he need it.

Ban Iskender gazes out the broken gate for a long moment, watching the flares rise, before turning his steps and eye across the courtyard toward where the hovering speeders await, and where an armed speeder bike in particular sits. Over his helm comms, the nobleman switches channels to that of the Lir Dragoons. <<"This is Captain Iskender. Status.">> Mounting his mechanical steed, he shares one more salute for the banner, and a bow in the saddle to the royal.

The retreating forces are followed by a gaze of cornflower blue. The vehicle pulls away leaving the gaping hole in the wall to frame a terrible sight: Bastion city on fire. Under siege. The pit in her stomach grows heavier; Ulani's entire body feels like its about to collapse into a useless pile.

Aubrei is to her side providing aid and Ulani nods numbly. "Thank you," is said first with a heaviness in her tone. Then "Bors," as she looks into the mess of the courtyard. A vertitable Where's Waldo's Body of carnage.

Then her eyes are drawn skywards as the flare climbs into the sky. Then another... and another... and another. Ulani's chin looks up to watch the night sky light up and a bit of hope does, indeed, return.

Blade held so as not touches the ground, Bors's hand presses the grip against his leg when he pushes himself up to stand again, taking Rune's offer of help. "Aye, not my worst. Not by far. And thee, good sir? Not felled I see thee vitalized; or that may ere be the flush of youth about thee." reaching to give one of Rune's shoulders a shake. Face bruised, monocle gone, hair east and tired. But it was success - even if he is in distinct need of medical assistance judging by the blood drooling out of of the hem of his combat plates.

Looking up towards Aryn's flares, then the others joining, eyes half closed and his expression caught in a near rigorous grin when he bends to rest his free hand on his thighs and give a sighing half-chuckle when things are beginning to calm, as best as they can for the circumstance.

"Hail Cortess!" shouted out with a rasp on the tail end. "Hail the Princess!" sword lofted above him, point set to point above and to one side of the Princess's head; never above, never where it could harm. No matter the distance.

At least Ula can find him now.

Ariel gives a sigh of relief when the fighting is done and the young woman hops her way over towards a wall to slide down where she can turn the baton off and tend to her wounds with a bit of a grimace before wandering off to help others with wounds.

The last man Chani faces decides to run with the rest of the retreating Panteer forces. Chani does not pursue. What she does is glance around, lightsaber elevated into a guard position that has her hands close to her rib cage and the hum of the blade purring in her ear. It's blue light flickers across her face and body, but cannot cleanse her vision of the blackened courtyard and the destroyed grounds. No Panteer soldiers seem to remain. The Alderaanians let up a cheer as Princess Cortess fires her flare, and Chani's eyes drift to the others that zip through the sky and signal battles won in other places. She doesn't think the fighting is over. This may well be the start of a long campaign by Lana Panteer, and if it is, there are dark days to come.

Exhaling long and through parted, dry lips, Chani deactivates her lightsaber and leaves it in her right hand once her arms lower themselves. The gravitas of their predicament is not lost on her. All over the courtyard, fallen foes and allies lay in their final resting places. Many are simply injured. Some have been since the start of the battle, and their cries for help have turned into muted moans of pain. Chani can already see medical personnel beginning to rush to aid people. She reaches out her left arm to stop one in the process. "Please help ALL the injured." There's emphasis there that needs no explanation, and although the man's face shows skepticism, there is a nod that shows a begrudging promise to do just that.

Stalking across the courtyard towards the armored Green Knight, Chani halts some feet from his battle vehicle. "Lord Iskender. I would join you if there are more that need saving." She's tired. She wants to sit down. She wants to wash the grime of battle off. Chani, however, knows that there are those out there that are suffering, and small inconveniences she experiences are nothing to the horrors that they are facing.

Sorin is exhausted, and as the battle turns, is pressed, and then won, all that adrenaline... it begins to wash away. Limbs become heavy, and thank goodness for servo-augmented power-armor but even that is but a crutch. Melee combat, even strength-assisted, is still a physically destructive activity and the knight of Endesea, the only remaining knighe of Endesea, breathes heavily as recovery begins. That crystalline blade finds itself re-sheathed, although every inch of him, and the gear he carries, is going to be in need of a thorough cleaning. As he rejoins established friendly lines, meeting and then passing that shield line, a medic approaches. There's little to differentiate the origins of the mud and blood coating the man, but Sorin shakes his head. <"I am fine,"> he says, stopping to survey the battlefield. Men still lay where they fell, some moving, many not. <"There are many here though, that are not."> An observation more for himself, perhaps, as the medic had already moved on.

Ewan's victim only lasted a moment, caught offguard by the stab. The lightsaber is disengaged immediately, with a small squeal and then deathly silence. As the man collapses forward, Ewan holds onto him for a moment, tugging him close. "Lilah guide you to Trul," Ewan says softly, under his breath. It was the last thing the man would hear. Ewan folds slightly to rest the man on his back, before the dagger is slipped into his dying hands, and folded to his breast.

A moment is taken as Ewan meets his eyes, waiting for the light to fade. He could feel it, even amongst all the death around them. "You have paid the price of conquest," he says, before touching his fingers to the man's forehead. Only then, after pulling closed the man's eyes, does Ewan rise and regard the others. The strange lightsaber is returned to Ewan's waist, and he takes a moment to gingerly touch at the wound in his chest. He even winces. Bathed in the red light of the flare for a brief moment, Ewan makes a headcount of the Jedi and allies of Alderaan alike. But that's when Aubrei comes along, tending to the wound with a practiced hand. Soon its sealed and she's off to tend to others. And Ewan is all the better for it.

Ban Iskender regards Chani at her request, as the swoop engine rumbles to life. A short nod is given, his green sword sheathed a d the newly freed gauntlet offered to aid Chani in joining him aboard the steed.