Log:Sith: Becoming The Problem

The Sith contend with Corellians not wanting them to take a child.

OOC Date: March 21, 2023
Location: Corellia
Participants: Xavier Harcourt, Tamsin Cas, Kol Goren, Ban Iskender, Aryn Cortess, Raskta, Yusanis Reverberate as GM

"Maclunkey!"

The first thing to be hurled, after threats and insults, was a brick. Hurled by an older woman with a snarl on her face and cheered on by nearby figures. Not an effective throw. Falling well short of the gathered Sith before it skips and bounces to tumble to a halt near their feet.

Voices continue to rise, and the crowd begins to crowd closer, walking steps that become jogging and some surge ahead of the rest; blunt objects being held with the intent to club and batter. But from several windows and further back in the crowd blasters are raised, ready to fire.

The ire of the mob reaching a fever pitch, meanwhile Farl and Reddney are being grabbed to be dragged away. The people in the streets overcome with a sense of need that overwhelms fear. Maybe even sense. No compromise, even in the face of armageddon.

Xavier stands as the rearguard staring down what is increasingly becoming a rabble. Saber in hand but not yet activated, he grins to himself under the mask as Ban joins him. "Used to being the sword, brother?" Just a little chitchat between colleagues. One he is more than happy to dwell further into as they wait for someone to light the match. "I dare say you won't be able to save this lot from the very bad decision they are about to make. But surely you are a man that believes one reaps what they sow." He punctuates this thought with a press of his thumb to extend his crimson blade out with a fatal snaphiss.

If there are any left in this group that can be swayed from making this most deadly of mistakes, perhaps this is their last chance to come to realize that. That chance comes and goes with the throw of a brick that hits the ground and comes to a rolling stop well short of the group. Xavier's chin tilts upwards just slightly. "So be it."

The Sith Councilor moved with a relentless grace, paying no more mind to those gathering in the storm than they would have paid mind to autumn leaves flying in a windstorm. Their destination was clear. The two being grabbed to be carried away to safety. Nothing else mattered. Neither the obscenities, nor the blunt force instruments, not even the blasters which were being drawn and pointed in their direction. Those were all mayflies. The Councilor walked on, still unarmed, but no less dangerous for it. Sighting that an escape was being attempted, the Councilor shook out the arms of their robes, speeders which had been parked and idle rising into the air of their own volition and falling back down to block the supposed escape route.

In the last few moments there had been a call for the fire team to standby, but make ready. Today, ET-1141 is the fireteam in a metaphorical sense. He also makes himself ready and stands by. The small flicker of flame at the mouth of the D-93 Incinerator remains a constant. Every ready to be deployed against the enemies of the Sith Empire or to clean up the messes made by that same Empire. Older now, he still seems perfectly capable of shouldering the fuel tank and hoofing it when necessary. He offers the impression that he could stand there all day, waiting to be called to the front and with the depressing of a trigger resolve all manner of bad days. So far he has not been given that call, so he awaits.

Merulia has tried, she spoke, she implored, she warnes and she even promised hope. Yet even the Nightsister's words that might have convinced some were not enough.

"Then it shall be..." she offers before spotting their target hoisted into the air/

There was the hilt of her combat sword resting at her hip...and yet, it's a far stranger weapon that she raises up to her mouth first.

Ban Iskender sniffs sharply, commenting aside to Xavier, "Quite so. Yet a sword is wasted when it forgets its mark, sir." His right hand reaches out, steady and unhurried, a palpable shudder coursing through the air as their object in coming here, the young child, is lifted off the ground, out of reach, out of grasp, and steadily drawn back toward the line of Sith. "Whether you all live or die is not our choice.. it is your own," the solemn swordsman declares evenly, as his left hand ignites his ruby sword.

Aryn stood behind her Knight of Tears, Darth Durandas. If she was out of patience it failed to show in her demeanor. Rather than further escalate the situation, she looks on as members of their team see to the capture of their acquisition. When the brick is thrown and comes skipping close to their location, Aryn pre-emptively steps to one side just as it slides by along the wet duracrete. Xavier's comment earns a subtle shake of her head. "To slay them is to beget martyrs. Revolutions are born from less."

As weapons come to life, Aryn sighs and steps further back, looking inconvenienced by all of this. One hand rises calmly, and she takes a moment to make some minute adjustment with the tension of her glove.

Raskta already had drawn her blade and made her mark in the ground she didn't turn on her blade but it wouldn't be hard she could turn it on in a moment as she slowly lowers her stand and turns to the side to make it harder to shoot at her or evne throw things.. she narrows her eye's in her mask getting ready.

Yusanis shakes his head pulling his own weapon with a soft sigh, oh yes he's enjoying this. He takes up his own position ever on alert as he watches the others his own eyes alight with glee and satisfaction behind his mask.

The outcry that comes when the boy is lifted into the air runs through the crowd, faces twisting with fury mixed in concern. Speeders dropping into place send up shocked calls, but it's Reddney crying out when he sails into the air electrifies them. Pipes, two by fours and even knives are coming out.

Old Farl, though, he turns, eyes wide and split mouth gaping wide, spiraling rows of teeth spinning and a surge of life returns to those old bones. Starting to push through the crowd, chasing after the floating boy.

Unaware of the Stormtrooper incoming, the first red lances of blaster fire reach out, aimed for the ones making hand gestures that appear to be lifting vehicles and children alike. The scream of tibanna plasma being launched mingling now with the sounds of communal fury and the bellowing of the incoming old non-human.

"To slay them is to slay them and nothing more," Xavier replies just as easily. "If it wasn't death, they would martyr their planet, their beliefs, their anceastors. But surely their next of kin will appreciate that you regarded the death of their loved ones with such gravitas.Xavier handwaves the idea of moral high ground quite literally. Moreso, there are plenty in their group to take care of the main objective. He knows this already. There needs to be those who make it so such can be executed easier. That is where Xavier has and always will come in. "Don't worry. I don't mind getting dirty so you do not stain your capes."

He moves like a phantom, rushing into the group of armed civilians -- we call those aggressors -- and is quick to cut two of them down in a flash of red. The last swing is ducked under, but he makes no attempt to get out of melee range of the attackers.

The Councilor, who saw the boy being lifted away, rather than assist on that account, instead, moved to engage the enraged Dashade who was attempting to get to his former charge. A firiery blade ignited in their hand as she adjusted their trajectory, moving to put themselves between the moving boy and the enraged former guardian. With the distance required to cross, the blade was put to less use than it should have been, carving out space between herself and the alien, and moving the crowd away from them.

ET-1141 steps forward when things finally, and perhaps inevitably, turn violent. When aggressors begin to encroach on the perimeter of the various Sith, acolytes or beyond, Kol Goren steps up to join the defense. The D-93 Incinerator speaks its displeasure with the hiss and growl of flame that he strafes across the front line. That first gout of flame likely intended ot halt the advance of the mob. When they don't: the D-93 simply keeps voicing its discontent with the current state of things. Through his helmet's vocoder he shouts a sharp command at the furious mob that he's likely only made all the more furious by setting one of their own aflame, <"Back up, now!">

The tickle of breath, the warmth of the air passing her soft lips against her fingertips as she guided the solid length towards her mouth and then....Merulia exhaled a sharp breath and a dart whistled across the space only to miss her target and ruin someone in the crowd's day.

Oops.

Ban Iskender sniffs a second time at Xavier's banter. "You ought be glad for our patience, sir: it is why you yet live." Durandus does not join the charge forward, instead standing his place in front of Aryn, and continuing to bring their charge fully into the Sith band's control. His sword held back in a comfortable guard, nothing about the somber Knight's manner suggesting he is in the middle of an unfolding bloodbath.

Raskta Stands herself she made she too will not attack she made what she said known she will stick to her honor and ways , She keeps her blade at her side but she waits she will not attack unless they cross her line

Aryn sighs aloud at the noise that comes from Xavier. She dismisses him with a wave, punctuating Ban's comment on the matter. "It is a wonder you both fought at all; it must have been a sea of pontificating banter to wade through..." Aryn turns when their acquisition is brought into range, and she attempts to exact her control over the kid by lowering a gloved hand to him. Unfortunately, his inherent abilities kept her influence from his mind, so she only spoke in an effort to earn his confidence. "Take my hand, young man. I mean you no harm. I will keep you safe; you have my word." Aryn speaks with genuine poise, betraying no ulterior motive; she may not have one at all! Her hand lingers, waiting for him to take it.

If she held any concern of being attacked, it failed to show. She had every confidence Durandas would dispatch the threat before they could reach her.

Yusanis smirking behind his mask Yus moves in taking two quick strikes at the closest person to him. Those strikes put the opponent down and Yusanis laughs out loud looking for the next target.

Dipping to one side and leaping back from the lightsaber being swung at the old dashade, the quad-split mouth opens again with a roar aimed for the Councilor, inky eyes reflecting their mask and figure before Farl hunches and rears back. Claws extending from his fingers before he moves in, a pair of heavy swipes with talons that look like they could score durasteel.

One of the crowd tumbling over with a dart in their chest, the rest push past them - indignance and fury taking over thought when they charge, trying to get to the ones taking the child, others grabbing the poor sot Kol had lit on fire and push him to the ground, throwing coats and cloaks over him to put him out.

Reddney looks up at Aryn, wide eyed, mouth an O before his expression hardens and the child tries to back away, "No! You're a liar! That's what you people do!" struggling against the telekinetic bonds holding him to little effect.

Others try to put up a fight, blaster bolts firing and whatever had come to hand swinging for the Sith in their midst.

"If you come onto a battlefield with your nose in the air, /Your Highness,/ then expect someone to punch it. Otherwise, you can spare me your disregard. I care little for earning your approval." Yes, he is projecting this reply through the swell of battle that has now begun. Because, let's be honest here, holding back a group of yokels with blasters and sticks is hardly-- THUMP!

From behind, Xavier takes a shot to his lower back. The red he sees is not from his saber and it is with a crack of his left hand that Xavier wraps the Force around this miscreant's neck and lifts him into the air. A noticable growl escapes his mask before the gun-wielding man is sent flying like a clay pigeon and what does Xavier use to shoot him?

Right on the heels of that first throw, a second civilian -- a woman coming at him with a rifle -- is flung off of her feet and sent colliding mid-air with the first. They both suffer the impact of the ground alive yet not eager to stand up quickly, that's for sure.

The Councilor was no fool, and while they did not retreat from the now attacking Dashade, instead moving to clear some distance from those claws, they did not turn away from the attack. As the fire exploded behind them, blaster fire rained down, and all manner of crude and barbaric weapons were hurled or swung from all directions, the simply centered themselves. A first swing, as if to test the range, leaning a back to adjust their balance before she drove forward, some reptilian quality in the sleekness of the movement, reminiscent of some other master long gone, now, as the blade swung true, slicing the old Dashade open from shoulder to hip, the pieces falling to the dirt-streaked stones at their feet.

The crowd continues to press into closer quarters. Then one of them goes up in flame. That results in a cluster of others converging on him to begin working to smother the flames and their napalm origins. Best of luck. May the Force be with you or something. They've now gathered into a sizeable group and once again the flames illuminate the front of ET-1141's bold red armor and the gout of flame reflects from the black lenses of his helmet as yet another stream of incinerating flame reaches out to lick at the crowd.

A field of chaos and violence, roaring lightsabers and screaming blaster fire has turned the space into perhaps inevitable chaos. And yet, even as blaster fire fills the air around her Merulia's contribution was smooth movement and controlled breaths, sending the venom-tipped dart flying through the air into the throat of a gunman lining up one of her companions or perhaps the 'witch' herself.

Numbness, calmness, heaviness all flow through the veins of the foe before their eyes roll back and they fall back with a thud.

Perhaps they should be grateful, on Dathomir such toxins usually immediately proceeded being eaten.

Ban Iskender casually deflects a few further shots with unhurried motions of his sword as Aryn speaks with the boy. Confident that she will secure the boy's cooperation- or at least his attendance- Darth Durandus begins securing their path back to their extraction point. His red sword is raised and pointed along the course he means to take. Two small turns of his wrist, two small sweeping motions of the glowing blade, and walls of force part the mob like so much chaff.

Aryn sighs as only a mother might sigh when a child misbehaves or refuses to comply. Hre hand remains in front of him despite his retreating from her to take it. She weathers his accusation amidst sparks raining down from above them thanks to a number of missed shots. One man closes the distance in an effort to attack, but Durandas has influenced a strong will of unseen kinetic energy that alters their course and sends them flying backward, 'parting the sea.'

Turning back to the child, Reddney, she says in a bewitching tone, "You want to take my hand and follow me." The Force began to influence his mind, the idea conceiving there as if it were his own. His hand rises to claim her own and she squeezes firmly, bringing him close to her side and lifting her cape to cover him as they moved.

Wordlessly, Aryn fell in step behind Darth Durandas, unconcerned with the mob, the fighting, all of it. Xavier gets a brief look, the blow he received earning a small smile from Aryn in passing.

Raskta It's that they didn't respect her line, they didn't pay attention, 3 of them even attacked her! Her eyes start to glow with rage and power going from that almost inhuman bright blue to red.. She Seeths and Suddenly starts to move faster and quicker than a girl like her show,

Echani martial arts on display as she moves With brutal speed and strokes. She two sharp slashes forward as she starts to move " YOU WERE WARNED "

Yusanis laughing behind his mask his own eyes seeming to glow with rage and glee. He takes his next two attacks the first hitting and dropping his foe! "This is why you should know your place!" He growls out as his second strike misses and he starts to follow along the path made back to the extraction his eyes glancing back to Raskta with a nod.

Farl is downed and the outrage is clear.

The boy is taken by the hand and the indignance is palpable.

Though their number are being ignited, cut down, struck with darts, battered down or flung by unseen hands - the mob cries out, attempts to strike out, despite the threat they're facing. A gatherum of like minds seeking to rescue one of their own from being taken away by the veritable boogiemen.

Durasteel pipes, hunks of wood, blocks of stone and the odd blaster bolt are used. Trying to waylay, halt, anything to deny the sith their prize that follows with his hand in Aryn's. Mind numbed and his actions are not fully his own now.

Shouts fall on them like the weapons and blaster fire. A malaise descending on the street that sinks into the very bones of the people as a bright spot in their world is being dragged away.

The surge of anger quells once more to the sound of two bodies thudding in the near distance. That's how it often is when riding on one's emotions. Does him quite well, in fact. With their target secured, Xavier turns his back on those who remain with a flutter of a long, black cape and moves to leave through the path Ban has made for them. "Never changes," he mutters towards the other man, saber still burning crimson in his hand. "Decades of this nonsense, mmm? Never changes." If he has more to say, it'll have to wait for when he has a cold drink and something to smoke. For now, he keeps his senses open, waiting for just any excuse to turn back around and unleash holy hell.

With the most immediate threat eliminated, because what were rabble, really? Only annoyances; the Councilor moved to return to the group, leaving the remains of the Dashade in their wake. They were not entirely without reaction to the carnage and promised violence around them, and that faceless mask turned in the direction of the lone trooper in their midst. "ET-1141, bring your fire team in. Make certain you nip this proto-rebellion in the bud." Through the modulation, there was almost something like affection in the Councilor's voice. Of a fashion. Those familair with the Councilor would know ET-1141 to be their most favoured trooper, and the usual leader of the Councilor's shock troopers.

T-1141 follows orders. The call to bring in the team is met by a general call of withdrawal through the stormtrooper's internal comm system. Acknowledgments are relayed throughout and ET-1141 begins his withdrawal. Stepping backward with slow and deliberate steps, one of his other troopers acting as a guide for Kol Goren to ensure that he's not tripped up and inevitably dragged away. He does at least activate his helmet's comm to acknowledge the order presented by the Councilor, <"Understood!"> Another order is passed among the stormtroopers and they begin withdrawing in good order. Suppressing fire is laid down as the stormtroopers and their crimson armor form a barrier for entry between the retreating acolytes and the violent mob. In unison the team of stormtroopers begin their own withdrawal under fire. They return fire to keep the aggressors back and away from the departing backs of the acolytes.

"Alas and alack, so it seems," Ban assents evenly to Xavier's commentary on the unchanging cycle the galaxy has dealt within, these long years. His pace toward their purpose is kept as the band of Sith effect their withdrawal. As a line of stormtroopers hustle past him to establish a perimeter warding off the mob, behind his mask, Ban's lip twists with distaste.

Aryn's pace puts her slightly ahead, and soft foot-falls sound like 'clip-clop' as she returns through the alleyway and down the wet duracrete road. One hand, arm really, is devoted to keeping the child protectively pressed to her side, her cape concealing him from immediate view unless one had a vantage from the front.

Her other hand drew up her hood, shielding her from the elements, though a shame it could not mask the stench of peasant filth and decaying city. There's no clever commentary from her, just a quiet silence and gentle flutter of her cape bouncing off her heels.

Raskta She knows when numbers matter she dosn't have her lightsaber and well while she knows her skills are high .. it's too many people she looks about and spots all the guns , They didn't bring troops and putting down all these people dosn't work it's the fault of thier governer for letting it fester like this.. She tsks and Takes off when the people are parted by the darth Running along. Her life has more value

Yusanis shakes his head growling in pain from the hit he took. But trained as a warrior his whole life he knows when the odds are against him, and having only a stunsaber he knows that the numbers and odds are stacked against him. Yusanis shakes his head and begrudgingly makes a hasty and tactical retreat.

The path, as opened, leads to a stretch of the streets cleared by the fact that it was previously populated by those who had given chase to the Sith while they hunted the child. Wide enough for industrial speeders or even some of the larger sorts of droid intended for such tasks. The scream off TIEs overhead fending off local authorities who find themselves questioning if they should, or could, proceed.

Covered by the black and red fighters a single Theta class shuttle descends, wings raising to vertical position to keep from smashing against buildings - boarding ramp already coming down and point defense blasters swiveling to fend off potential assault from the chasing civilians.

The ship still drawing forward on repulsors, towards the incoming retrieval team. To swallow them up into the dark transport cabin, where the image of Kessa flickers in holograph, hooded and only her chin visible when she says in a sibilant whisper,

"It is done?"