Chapter 1: The Wound in the Force

MISSION THREAD
DATE: 1/9/2016


[#] For the purpose of business, one of the larger hangers had been cleared of those deemed to have lesser importance. There was to be official business here. The greeting party would have been assembled to await the arrival of officiates, whom were punctual in their timing. A large republic shuttle had been identified, cleared and effortlessly navigated into the hanger of note. All seemed in order, and it was with a hiss and a billow of steam that the occupants of the shuttle would be revealed. Anders Ulain garbed in Republic regalia, flanked by several uptight retainers, and a small security detail.

Beldok Sekel took position next to Wilo, the Grandmaster. Standing on his left to await the arrival of their Republic Dignitaries. Beldok was tense and on edge. Always wary of these meetings. As a Shadow, his role was mainly behind closed doors and pulled curtains. Yet now was a time to stand in the light in an attempt to garner a semblance of a peace between the factions. Beldok stood at the ready, waiting for Wilo to make the first move. This is your show. I'm just back up.

Jae Kahn made his way to the hanger dressed in his ceremonial stark white Jedi robes. This day was an important one for the Jedi; one that would forever decide the Order's future within Anders Ulain's New Republic. Jae had never cared for the Head of State but he could not deny that the man produced results. Since Ulain has taken the role as leader of the Republic, the tides of battle have changed. Despite exiling the Jedi, Ulain was still able to push the Galactic Empire into unknown space; a proof of his army's strength. It is because of their strength that made the Jedi Master nervous, recalling reading about similar events that took place centuries prior. He voiced his opinion, but the council as a whole agreed to support Ulain. Upon reaching the hanger, he spotted both Master Beldok and Grandmaster Wilowchehuckt and took his place on the Wookiee's other side.

Doren Everguard watched, as he tends to do, from off to the side, well behind the others. With arms resting across his chest, robe head tilted upward to give his eyes a clear view, Doren's expression was one of complete and utter boredom, which had been typical to say the least. However, those soft glowing eyes scanned over the transport, having the same 'judgement' of Ulain as Jae.. A Shadow himself, the D kept well away from any sort of light, not out of a sense of perseverance, but as a silent reminder to any who 'knew' of him, that he was watching. Always watching.

Wilowchehuckt was dressed more ornately than some Jedi may have seen in decades, maybe even in a lifetime or two for the shorter-lived races. He had donned his ceremonial hood and kilt along with a charcoal robe. The Wookiee stood at perfect attention, save for his hands folded across his beltline. His translator droid, E3B, a floating spherical droid composed of whatever the Wookiee had shoved into it over the years, floated at his right side. It gained a little more altitude when Master Jae Khan arrived. Wilo, as Grandmaster, had little opinion about Ulain's accomplishments. Nevertheless, he knew when certain events were inevitable. The Wookiee would offer a slight bow to Anders Ulain, but kept his hands folded in front of his belt.

Moving softly throughout the compound, garbed in Jedi robes for the first time in...awhile, Garhen stalked through the compound like a shadow. Though far far from a Master of such arts of stealth, the Jedi had been rather hectic in their goings on at Ulain's arrival, so much so he had found it somewhat easy to infiltrate the base, though things had become rather complicated. He hadn't taken into account the Jedi would bring only their best to the hangar, and make it a private meeting. Did they not fully trust Ulain? Interesting thought. He would sigh, and slowly make his way through the temple, trying to find a way to get into the hangar..

Bringing up the rear behind Jae stalked the towering beanpole of a human, in similarly pristine robes - and the poor Wookiee master would have been appalled at the state of the normally laconic Jedi's mind. It was a rote greeting, rote formality, rote politics. Yet, only months before, they'd been cast out like a youngling from a tree house, only to be welcomed back after the important business was long considered passed - and the nagging feeling that they'd outlived their usefulness alongside a marked disdain from those more secular an open secret had spiked the man's suspicions in spite of himself. But impatience from the knight was nothing new; neither was extended, almost remedial meditation. Hardly a shade over the feeling of the meeting itself, and easily ignored. Still, the sight of the crowd, led by the gently imposing Wilo, proved impressive even in spite of it all - and if history were to be made, it was a good bunch with whom to make it. He offered the company a curt nod, but otherwise remained silent.

Mitra Kahn was in no rush to be apart of the welcoming party for the nerfherder that kicked the Jedi to the curb. While some of Ulain's reasonings made sense to her, she didn't understand how he couldn't see that the Jedi were actually doing good in the galaxy. Despite her disdain, Mitra inevitably sucked it up and made her way to the hanger. Upon her arrival she noted other patrons such as Master Sekel, Grandmaster Wilowchehuckt, her father, and the occasional knight and padawan. Expecting Pojo to be right at her heels, she led the pup off to the east corner of the hanger where she spotted another Jedi looming in the shadows. Recognizing him as one of her brethren within the Shadow organization, she offered the master a slight nod before leaning against the wall with arms crossed.

Stark is - much like his perennially disconnecting player - largely just hangin' in the backdrop and gathering a sense for things. His eyes are lazily half lidded and his expression is one note off from lookin' like it'd been robbed off a dead man. But in spite of lookin' like a sleepy Ben Carson, Stark had nevertheless deigned to present a professional appearance given the formality of the occasion - his otherwise long & loose hair had been pulled together into a ponytail of sorts, his hands were clasped together in front of him, and he was rockin' a dignified posture - more or less. Like most the others, he keeps quiet and watches the scene play out. Wasn't his job to broker this thing, anyhow…

Pojo was, of course, right on the heels of Mitra. His claws clattered on the hard surface in that unique gait that was only his, the pattern a clacking dance of six feet working together. He truly looked like some pet, picked up off some planet that was an interesting companion. But that illusion was slightly broken by the utility belt that was oddly fitted cross-wise over his chest. And the newer model of spherical translator droid hovering just a few feet over and to the side. Once Mitra settled, he plopped his rump down on the cold ground, looking around with those eerie solid yellow eyes. Nose turned up to the air, sniffing curiously around, tail swaying back and forth in excitement of being included in something important.

[#] As the small party descended from the shuttle, Ulain himself would greet the Jedi sortie with a brief nod. A prideful fellow, with some hints of arrogance displayed in the way he postured himself, and in manner of some disdain which he regarded the group. What looked to be the captain of the security detail stepped forwards. Booted heels clicking together as he straightened to address the group. "Anders Ulain. Head of State of the New Republic." Announcing the big cheese before stepping aside. And speaking of the man of the hour, Anders would be clearing his throat. "Grandmaster Wilochehuckt." Addressing the Wookie in particular. "Thank you for the welcome. Though I cannot quite say I have the impression of being warmly welcomed." Gesturing with a nod in particular to Doren and Rigby and their expressions of curt boredom. It seemed as though the republic had been expecting a more gracious greeting, as their proposition was in the Jedi's favour.

Wilowchehuckt offered a warm smile to the captain as he addressed him. He gave a curt nod in response to the coziness of the welcoming party. The Wookiee otherwise stood still like a statue, save for the motions needed to speak. In Shyriiwook. " < It is unprecedented to have you here, Ulain. I apologize. Some Jedi take their emotional control beyond a level many appreciate. Do not feel disrespect, they are well aware of the opportunity and potential of your visit. > " He offered another slight bow, and his droid E3B would translate in a Sean Connery voice if it was necessary.

Beldok Sekel was dressed elegantly, but not flashy. His deep red complexion was subdued with earth tones, beiges, creams, and tans. Well groomed and nice smelling, smooth skin, flowing hair, and let's not forget a plethora of pheromones at his disposal. This was a Republic impressed by extravangance, then. His arms were crossed into his loose sleeves, concealing a mini-datapad strapped to his forearm. Beldok held a smile befitting his species and position. He bowed as Ulain and party approached, but did not break eye contact. "Please, forgive the impression. We are, but humble Jedi. What wealth we have is used to maintain our way of life and serve those that need us most." Beldok explained before offering his name. "Master Beldok Sekel, at you service."

Jae Kahn stood beside the grandmaster, playing his role as the right-hand of the Order. Allowing Wilowchehuckt to respond, Jae took the opportunity to examine Ulain's guard. The first thing the echani note was their discipline and professionalism. Not one of the armored soldiers appeared distracted or relaxed, almost as if they were expecting trouble from the Jedi. While unfamiliar with the soldier's new armor, Jae had to respect their training. At least Ulain did that right. Turning his gaze to the Wookiee he ever so slightly narrowed his eyes. Diplomacy... something Jae was never known for among his peers and yet something the grandmaster was renowned for. It was why the Wookiee, a lifetime friend to the echani, was the grandmaster and Jae was not. Gaze went beyond Wilowchehuckt to the Zeltron on the other side before returning to Ulain and following suit, "Master Jae Kahn." he added sharply followed by a slight bow.

Doren Everguard said nothing. All the Jedi did stare. Drinking in the detail before him like a man thirsty for water. Those eyes would not tarry long on one soul or another, nor would they turn on Ulain for long. The last time Doren had been associated with Diplomacy, he scared the delegates into an accord by sitting between them. He did nothing then. Said nothing then, yet wondered mostly to himself if there were any real fish in the Coruscant Diplomat Assembly Garden Lake. And if he could eat them. Doren continued to observe, nod and bow when appropriate; but the Jedi did little else, but watch.

"Greetings, Ulain." A grin, and another nod. "I second my compatriot Sekel, here, and only apologize that we couldn't have made a better impression - after all, we did bring a whole party!" Eron’s voice was warm enough in spite of the wry twist of his words, though he'd fixed his face into that pleasantly guarded smile he'd reserved for people he'd yet to compartmentalize - one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Eron Wehr," he'd continued, by way of introduction. "As our master said, this is a rather unique situation - and opportunity! Please do not mistake our...inexperience for disrespect."

Stark is his usual laze self, all languid-like without a sliver of life about him. All back of the bus, just letting the others handle business. Stark'd been alive centuries... what's one republic from another? This wasn't his deal, and it was barely his business. He doesn't bother to adjust his expression, and could care less for Ulain's remark. Like many other Jedi (for better or worse), his priorities remained isolated within the Order. His quiescent gaze drifts slowly across the consortium, pausing just momentarily upon each guard…

Mitra Kahn followed suit with Doren and refrained from introducing herself to the stuck up politician. This was a council affair, what does the name of a measly knight mean to the man who -single handedly brought an end to the Galactic Civil War-. Diverting her gaze to the pup at her side, she presented her padawan with a stern gaze as if silently commanding him to behave. She then studied the scene as it unfolded, noting the guards, their armor, the politician's ship and even the confident smile plastered on his face. There was a piece of her that was unsettled by the man's presence, which was odd given the fact that he held no real power beyond title and rank. Bottom lip tucked beneath her teeth, a nervous habit in which she never truly gained control of.

Pojo could almost feel the burn of his master's gaze on him. Yeah yeah, this meeting was important and stuff. He sat erect and still, knowing if he screwed up now that he would be paying for it later. Didn't keep his mind from wandering. Like wondering why these people were all armored up for a diplomatic meeting. Wondering what their gadgets could do. Wondering if any of them liked playing ball. Hmm...wondering what that fancy guy's shoe would be like to gnaw on.... He shook his head a moment to get the thought out of there, shifting on his feet a moment to resettle himself. Might as well practice as all the boring stuff happened. He tried to keep his mind clear and calm, focusing on nothing. That was difficult when all this stuff was happening around him, but he tried anyway.

Lord Garhen had after a time, snuck his way into the bay, and taken up with a few Padawans of note clustered in the back. He gazed upon the Jedi present, noting the fact they were all mostly...impressive. Especially those around Wilowchehuckt, which was to be expected. The ancient Wookiee was given a look over, before the silver eye's were directed at the famous Republic official that had sent the Jedi packing. As he gazed at him, disgust welled up inside of Garhen, his composure broken for the moment. And a bit of apprehension entered his mind as well. Something was off....but the Force didn't seem to be giving him any alerts to duck and cover.

[#] Ulain seemed at least sated by the apology offered by the wookie. Or.. his droid technically. Beldok's suggestion was greeted by a rumble of a chuckle that coursed through the visiting party. "We have no interest in your wealth, master Jedi." One of the retainers dressed in blues and black would speak up in response. Eron's comments would be met as well by another of the retainers. This one in blue and gold. "An inexperienced party with the majority claiming Master ? Have you any training at all ?" Though this was more if a privately uttered thing. However the general chorus of introduction and proper greeting seemed appreciated. Ulain himself would linger where he stood for several moments longer in anticipating silence. Quiet for some time, before speaking up. "I suppose your preference is straight to business then. Very well." Clearing his throat before speaking up on business. "As is the opinion of the New Republic, the Jedi offer little, and have nothing more to give in the way of support. The time for religious fanaticism is at an end and it is time for the Jedi to step aside. The universe no longer needs your sort, and as of recent more harm has been done than any good. Your very presence is detrimental, and all of you are to be detained in our facilities. Grandmaster. We trust that you will come honorably at least."

Elm at some point in the last few minutes slipped into the shuttle hangar. He took up a position behind Jae, his presence obvious and known. He did take his last few steps as soon as Ulain began mentioning things about the Jedi's presence being detrimental, and thought momentarily about how wonderful a time he picked to arrive. As he moved in on the back rank, he looked down and across, silently acknowledging Mitra and Pojo.

Beldok Sekel raised a brow, a surprised or perhaps amused exhale escaped his nostril. Beldok straightened his posture as a matter of discomfort at the accusations. His arms crossed, fingers nimbly making silent keystrokes on the hidden datapad, now awaiting the final stroke to initiate the first routine. Beldok had some choice words for Ulain, but did not speak. Instead leaving that duty to Wilow. Beldok probed in the force to the minds of his Shadows. 'Be ready for anything.' Beldok for one had absolutely no intention of being detained by anyone for any reason. Especially not for just being.

Lord Garhen frowned deeply, hatred for the man being shoved down as best as he could, the infiltrator instead smiled thinly at the Head of State. The man stood there, declaring Jedi were under arrest, and quite foolishly Garhen himself acted as if he were being baited by the man himself. "Under what grounds do you....detain...us?" He said, the word not easily coming out. "...We Jedi have broken no law." He said, loud enough to be heard.

Wilowchehuckt silently had a firework go off in celebration in his head when the others essentially said the same thing, but with a more obvious lack of tact and amicability. But events may let that be the last bright thought created in the Wookiee's mind for some time. The Wookiee finally took his hands off his belt as Ulain spoke, a ripple emanating through the Force from the Kashyyyk native as he made the motion. Just a feeling. No actual movement done by the Force, just a feeling that there was something there. Something beyond physical touch, something that was there. Something to let Ulain feel that the Force was undeniably real, or that he ate something earlier that was not sitting well. The Wookiee was silent casting his gaze low enough for his brows to shadow his bright eyes, and simply started to disrobe in place. Unless interrupted, he would let his robe fall to the floor, unclip his kilt, and belt, and take of his hood, dropping them all in place so that he stood bare. There was no clunk of a lightsaber. He had come without it. "< I know no matter what I say, events today will lead to more death than necessary, and make you no better than your predecessors. > " E3B shivered in place, as if agitated, but the Wookiee held up his hands and the droid went still. "< I humbly surrender myself and step down from my position as Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. This elder son of Kashyyyk is now your prisoner of war. > " The last word was not quite diplomatic, but he knew that this situation was not about diplomacy from the beginning. The Wookiee took a step forward, turned in place, went down on his knees, and placed his hands behind his back.

Jae Kahn stiffened where he stood. The Jedi... detained? What in the damnation was this fool thinking? Brows furrowed and hands formed into tight fists at his side. Jae's mind quickly worked out the scenario in his head and although he lacked Wilowchehuckt's foresight, Jae was widely known for his battle precognition. What Ulain was proposing was foolish and wrong, but tactically genius. The Jedi are loyal to the Republic and have been for centuries. By detaining them, it shows the Jedi's true colors; either they come peacefully and therefore are no longer a threat to Ulain's regime, or they defy his request in self defense and prove to the rest of the galaxy that they are a threat. Hands inched ever closer to the hilts upon his belt, hostility in the air as both factions faced off. Attention diverted to Wilow as he disrobed and what followed literally made his jaw drop. "Wilow... what are you doing?" he whispered harshly through clenched teeth. "We can't just give ourselves to them.."

Shouting 'OH, I KNEW IT' was dark, uncouth and undisciplined, and so Eron didn't do it. Still, the temptation was great, the anger roiled and simmered beneath the pleasant countenance, and the frustration blazed in his eyes and carriage, even as he refused to let more than a quiet tension bleed into his voice. His eyes narrowed. "Odd thing to expect, my friends. We've committed no crime." He frowned, benignly, still played the innocent - though kept talking, voice rather uncharacteristically bereft of the layers of Force-laden persuasion he would have no doubt employed by then - if he were on his own. If there was a way to avoid using more ... preternatural means, in spite of Wilo's revelation, he'd still attempt them - as long as the Master was around, at least. "If you know anything about dogma, you should know it's not easily surrendered…”

...But then, Wilo surrendered. Eron's stomach turned, a strange and uneasy betrayal knotting and taking root in its pit. He wouldn't be the first to draw the weapon he'd embedded beneath the robes - the honeytrap of a man still remained. But it was more out of a sense of obligation to the Wookie on the ground, and obligation to their image. He squeezed his eyes shut, wanted nothing more than to slice through the bantha fodder the man spewed, show them just exactly how useful they could be... Jae voiced what he could not; he only echoed the Master's name uneasily.

"And so it goes." Stark mutters, his regard for this newly christened republic almost downright flippant. He isn't actually roused to alter his otherwise sleepy expression, mind you - nothing so drastic, but his attention had definitely just spiked. Things were about to get interesting. Perhaps it was time he actually deign to step into the situation - or perhaps he'll just let things play out a little further... One thing was for certain, and that was that no matter what Wilow here was prepared to do or decree, Stark wouldn't be submitting.

Doren Everguard's eyes narrowed considerably on Ulain, and the Jedi Shadow did something one would never thought he would ever do in any sort of public showing. Doren Everguard, frowned. The Jedi Shadow also did not immediately think Wilowchehuckt's response had been the most prudent either, but it had been the best move they could make in regards to the circumstance. Despite how ingenius it seemed to Jae, Doren's gaze settled on Ulain, and spoke exactly how an instructor would when attempting to teach a particularity dull student the rule set of a game of stratagem. It was merely a word. A single word given in a dull, melodramatic fashion on the set up Ulain made, forcing Wilowchuckt's surrender. "Mistake."

Elm moved forward next to Jae. His robe was already open and the single lightsaber hilt was visible, but he made no move towards aggression, overt or otherwise. Elm was young but of the world. "To say "detrimental presence" and then ask for surrender only means execution will follow. Don't think those assembled childish enough to ignore thousands of years of repetitive history. I can't imagine your court can comprehend the bedlam you invite by eradicating the only stewards of the Force, regardless of their intentions, Jedi and Sith with our differences are wholly preferable to the alternative. We exist for Life, not for government. " He remained in a relaxed posture, hands at his side.

[#] Ulain was not quite pleased with the sudden hint of discomfort in his gut. A pursing of thin lips to a pale face might have been his only acknowledgment of such a thing however. He knew well how real the force was. Though perhaps not in the way a Jedi might. "The presence of Jedi attract those of a more vile nature. And your personal battles of light and dark are not something that we are willing to allow to continue, while the New Republic is being established. Your order will take a back seat for now." Gentle words at least, to soften the blow. Wilo's humble surrender was met with an appreciative nod, and a gesture for him to proceed into the shuttle. The Wookiee would be treated respectfully, and would not be touched until he displayed any amount of aggression or reluctance. Simply escorted on board. "It is advisable that the rest of you surrender yourselves as well. For any who do not will be executed immediately." Ayep, right then and there. Bold words too for such a small group of politicians, and an even smaller security detail. "If you would please~" Ulain would take a step to the side with a sweeping gesture towards the ramp of the shuttle. Urging the Jedi to take up residence in the cell that had been set up inside. The matter of small numbers however would be fixed very promptly. As the sound of many boots upon metal could be heard descending the ramp. Revealing a dozen or so soldiers clad in black. Each carrying a variety of what looked like specialized firearm weapons.

Mitra Kahn's eyes shot open as she practically threw herself off the wall. Detained? Really? Rather than voicing her opinion, Mitra watched as things unfold and how the Jedi reacted to the news. Feeling Beldok's presence in her mind, she knew exactly what he was signaling for - to act. Kneeling down beside Pojo, she'd look at the pup in the eye and whisper, "Whatever you do, stay by me. If you are unable to keep up or fear that it's too dangerous, find any knight or master you can. Do not stray away and find yourself alone, understand?" As she gave her padawan direction, her gaze fixated on the two voices that claimed the Jedi was innocent; one belonged to a Jedi she knew but the other was unfamiliar and, more importantly, shrouded by the Force. Fearing that there was more to worry about, Mitra stored this information at the back of her mind. Rising to her feet, she followed suit with her father and reached for the large hilt upon her belt. She would not act alone but if her father needed support, she would not hesitate to act. It is what the shadow organization had taught her. Tensed yet still in control of her emotions, she watched the grandmaster surrender himself to Ulain. Unfortunately, there was always a part of her that knew that this would happen.

Pojo was...confused. Even he, the unfocused pup, listened to the stories. The Jedi had offered themselves as helpers in so many events that he barely had the time, or attention, to read them all. And now they were trying to jail them? The words that flung back and forth were half lost. This guy sounded like he was serious... He was SIX. And his option was cage or death? It was a bit overwhelming. His mind clouding with fear of what was going to happen. But then Mitra's focus on him sliced through it like...well, a lightsaber. A small shaky breath was taken, than a firm nod, as his trainer saber was pulled from his belt and caught in his teeth. Not that he had anything else. It wasn't even set to a level that would cut anything, just burn unarmored flesh. But it was a feeling of comfort to have it in his bite.

Doren Everguard's arms dropped, and his head tilted to the side. Then, as he headed towards the shuttle, he paused, feet away from Ulrain. Turning on his feet, the Jedi Shadow removed his trademark Lightsaber, and dropped it on the hangar floor, then kicked it away towards the group of Jedi. Looking over the rest of those before him, Doren pulled off his hood, and turn that ever present, chilling stare on the Head of State. "The younglings?" came the question. It was given in the same, bored tone, yet Ulrain's answer could determine if Doren would participate further, or force to use their own threat. Though what sort of danger could a Jedi give now that he had disarmed himself with their back to the Guard?

Lord Garhen threw back his cloak to reveal a rather well used cylinder around his belt. A fine thing, if a bit well-used, it was grabbed and pulled off his belt, though not ignited. The man spread his legs slowly as he gazed over the armored Republic troops before him. "You're all welcome to try...."He then ignited the blade, a deep blue, and scowled at Doren. "You'd give up your freedom?! Just like that?! The only thing you've ever done was defend these backstabbing wastes of space!"

Beldok Sekel held his finger above the switch, carefully plotting the next moments. Experience told him that this man may be able to back up his arrogance. They were a small force, but definitely had something in their back pocket. It's the only way to enter an enemy stronghold and stare them right in the eye on their home turf. Unless they're just complete fools, which experience told Beldok was true, just not at this particular moment. The Force tugged at the side of his mind, itching, itching, but Beldok didn't know where to scratch. It was especially significant, because he was usually so johnny-on-the-spot in these situations. Beldok stood his ground, "If you attempt, or indeed succeed, at killing anyone, Ulain." His name twisted with the slight inflection of a curse, pheromones pumping out at full now. "It will indeed end badly for you. We uphold what is good and right in the world and while I can certainly understand your... position. To reckon us as useless and make us prisoners, that can not be tolerated." Beldok held his ground as Wilow and Doren made their way to the shuttle. They were free to make their own choice. In truth it was probably better someone go with Wilow, maybe all of them. Beldok was always a wild card. "If you had asked us as guests and treated with respect, perhaps it would be different. But you come here on terms of peace and offer war." Beldok stepped backward, putting some distance from the would be captors, arms still folded. He focused his mind. (1/*)

Wilowchehuckt's gaze lifted at Jae Kahn's words, revealing somber eyes that would gaze into the Echani master's own. The fur beneath them was damp. His response was telepathic and reserved for the Jedi Master alone. "This is the only way to prevent the most death. Goodbye, brother. I love you. Let your Rrakktorr burn bright in the Force this day." The Wookiee stood at Ulain's words and took a few steps forward to briefly place his hand on Jae Kahn's shoulder. He swept his gaze through every Jedi before him, making eye contact with everyone present, urging them to act on their feelings. To trust themselves. To let the Force guide them. Every Jedi would have felt this same gaze before, when Wilowchehuckt had something to teach them. But Garhen would be experiencing it the first time, and it would linger. The Wookiee turned and made his way to the shuttle, going up the ramp as soldiers came down past him. E3B had not followed Wilowchehuckt, so the following words were left untranslated:

"<I forgive you, for you know not what you do.>"

"Damned if we do...? Then, I believe we find ourselves in zugzwang." Trust the lanky, nerdy Jedi to bring chess terms to a once-diplomatic meeting. But any glee or gamesmanship was lost as with an almost theatrical flair, Eron’s robe was waved aside, the hilt of a very worn saber revealed. "To do away with your guardians of peace and justice in favor of..." A pause. Another wry half-smile. "a very inflated sense self-importance does not bode well." Pantomime concern, the words drawn out, the consonants lingered on perhaps a moment too long. "And shows that you do not truly understand your enemy..." The Echani woman was as good of a choice as any to back, though Doren playing his own hand confused matters slightly - and only afforded Eron the slightest hesitation, before he palmed his own blade. Yet, he still did not strike or advance, though his tension was betrayed in the stark-white tendons that stood out against darker olive skin as he gripped the hilt, refused to ignite just yet... And Wilo moved, Wilo stared into his soul, and Eron was rather suddenly the fearful youngling once more, meeting Wilowchehuckt for the firt time, too-young, too green in the face of the Wookie's advancing age. His feelings were rash, his feelings were worrisome, he worried for the others, he worried for himself. He was supposed to find peace, but he only discovered discord. What was he supposed to do?

Jae Kahn had incredible respect for the Wookiee. They grew up together, graduated their knighthood ceremony together and even were granted spots on the Jedi council around the same time. He was like an uncle to his daughter and despite his admiration and love for the Wookiee, he could not help but disagree with his decision. How could surrendering himself to a dictator be the right thing to do? Ulain wasn't just asking for the Grandmaster, he was asking for the whole Order! Jae would commend Wilowchehuckt's sacrifice, but Jae could not stand by and watch as the rest of the order is taken away. Peering behind him, his gaze lingered on his brethren; masters, knights, padawans.... children who have yet to live and experience the marvels of the Force. No, he would not let this man take that from them. He would not draw his sabers yet, waiting on Ulain's answer to Doren's question. If the children would not be given freedom, Jae will fight.

Stark scans Garhen with a sidelong glance, noting his recourse for violence - and moreover, sensing something abnormal. Something that just didn't sit right. But eh, live and let die. Let bygones be bygones and all that. Stark was too impassive to really made a big stink of it, and besides all that, this was turning into a real doozy of a day. He sighs, taking it all in and accounting for each guard. Pretty clear this was gonna come to a head any second now. Violence was about certain. Unlike several others, Stark doesn't go for his own saber in any capacity, or really make any moves at all... nah, just waits...

Mitra Kahn found years of training and discipline crumbling before her as the Wookiee embraced her father. He was always a gentle giant, one of great wisdom and foresight, but also one that chose combat as a last resort. To Mitra, surrender was exactly what Wilowchehuckt would do and knew that it was not a sign of weakness but a sign of personal strength. Mitra's resolve wavered with the tension of hostility in the air and she found that it difficult to reach out into the Force. Attributing this to her nerves, Mitra thought nothing of the obstacle as she latched onto the Wookiee's mind, projecting gratitude, love and respect for all that he had done for her. Fearing conflict was inevitable, Mitra readied herself, one foot pivoting behind the other, right hand held at her hip, palm facing outward. Left hand was elevated in front of her face, vertical and straight as she too began to channel the Force, being of the same mind as Beldok.

[#] The acts of hostility from the Jedi as several drew weapons would be met with similar aggression. The security detail would remain closely around the political figures, however the black clad soldiers would be very quickly surrounding the group of misfits, blasters and small cannons leveled. Something about these figures was just.. wrong. Doren's dropping of weaponry had one of the figures approaching. And although they would not touch him, it was clear just where they wanted the Shadow to go, and what they wanted him to do. Get inside the shuttle's cell with the Wookiee. "It is surprising your order has thought to take younglings in it's current state." Ulain would offer to Doren. "If they do not fight us, they will be detained. Sent home to their parents perhaps." Those who had surrendered would be very quickly stripped of weapons and escorted on board. In Doren's case.. all fifty of his weapons. For those that drew weapons, the black clad soldiers would be quickly moving in. Initializing weapons, which would have a very promptly felt effect. It would feel as though the very life was being drawn out of each force sensitive individual. "This is your final chance to surrender." Though, assuming nobody else would at this point, the dozen or so soldiers would open fire on each and every one of the Jedi (and Sith) left in the hanger. Several of the soldiers even rushing in to surround Jae in particular.

Pojo was doing a great job of ... well, just doing what Mitra said. Stay close. Everything else was a messy soup of anger and ego. He wasn't sure how to take this. They kept saying Jedi were warriors of peace. And now he was seeing how warriors of peace were faced with unjust threats. It was probably not the best situation to put in front of a new padawan. Conflict of views. Peace in anger. Justice in treachery. Nothing was right here. And then the field hit. Ears pinned back, whimpering, trying not to trip Mitra up but keeping as close as he could. There was no action to take, other than stay put. And then the blasters lit up.

Lord Garhen let out a yell, and immediately tried to break through the line with unnatural speed before they closed in, aiming at Ulain.....and he slowed as he got close to them, eye's widening greatly, and brought up his lightsaber. A bolt was blocked, but a few more came through, one hitting his leg, another hitting his arm, and another hitting him in the gut where underarmor blocked off some of the blow, and the Sith fell back using his training and not his enhanced instincts to block as all of a sudden, sensory wise, it was like someone had flipped the Force's light switch and everything had gone dark. Moving back, he stared at Ulain, and every instinct, rational and animal told him he had to kill this man..

Stark had happily kept at a distance - and in the back, more or less, putting him outside of the primary field of fire. He also hadn't drawn a weapon, so would have hopefully - and very likely - been disregarded as less than an immediate threat. But now it was time to act. Summoning a large charge of force energy, Stark steps forward and waves an arm, sweeping up all nine or so of those giant canisters/cargo-things with a concentrated Force Hurl and throwing them, en masse, at the posse of soldiers. A less than lethal attack, but one meant to seriously waylay their attack, as well as scramble, disorient or otherwise knock a few out... "Argh!"

Jae Kahn was guided by the Force and instinct alike. Reaching out, both hilts launched into waiting palms. Charging forward, he lit dual violet blades as arms swept about in rapid motion, deflecting and repelling blaster bolts fired at the Jedi behind him. Jae's strategy was simple, make himself the distraction so that the others could get away. Calling upon the force, he propelled himself several feet into a summersault and landed on the other side of a pair of soldiers, bringing his right blade down in a diagonal arc that would slice both in half if they did not move to escape. Fighting in close enough quarters, Jae danced around, striking at his foes in rapid sequences that blended the aggressive form of Juyo with the defensive and powerful form of Djem So. In case no one was taking his hint, Jae would bellow "Run!" while using the force to project his voice tenfold.

Beldok Sekel had not drawn a weapon and thus, was not an immediate target. He backed up previously to remove himself from the 'front lines' so to speak. Soldiers approached rapidly surrounding the closest jedi and expanding their 'net' to catch him as well. Several Jedi had drawn weapons and acted hastily. RUN!! Beldok used the distractions to his advantage and hit the final key. A shadow security protocol was activated. The tractor beams, embedded in the hangar walls used to maneuver ships and supplies into place, all three turned on at once at full power. Lights dimmed and flickered in the temple, the hangar force field faltered. Beldok leapt into action. "Run!" In truth he was in action before the words reached any ear, maneuvering to escape the edge of the 'net,’ running along the wall attempting to escape the tractor beams range.

[#] If Pojo stayed put any longer, the poor pup would find himself filled with particularly nasty holes. Garhen would indeed be able to block several. However as he continued it would become increasingly difficult, as raw energy washed over him as it was dispersed by the lightsaber. These were not ordinary blaster bolts, and any who were hit would find rather significant amounts of damage done. Far more than typical bolts. Several of the soldiers would be struck by canisters. One sent flying backwards in fact. Though the majority were simply scattered and off balance. Jae's attempts were certainly noble. Though these soldiers might even have been young Jedi at one point. Or at least had similar training. While one would receive a hefty slash across his side, the other was taking defensive maneuvers. Avoiding being sliced in twain by clothing only. And whether it was by luck or skill, would be firing a point blank canon blast right into the Jedi's chest. Or so was the intent anyway. From inside the cell on the shuttle- there was an unfortunately perfect view of the hanger below, and the situation down there was not looking good. As the tractor beams were activated, the group would flinch at the sudden activation. As the contents of the hanger began shifting about- the political party would be very quickly making a mad dash to get inside the shuttle. Which consisted of much fear and shouting. Several of the security detail unfortunately would be swept along with several large objects- perhaps never to be seen again. While a number of the black clad soldiers were hot on the tails of the Jedi, the majority were struggling towards the shuttle as it went sliding across the deck.

Wilowchehuckt had a good view of the carnage, indeed, but he made no motion to observe what was going on. He had a good impression, and he did not need the force for that. The Wookiee had ears, you know.

Stark grimaces, "Just haaad to activate the tractor beams, didn'tchya?" He'd sigh if he'd the time, but Stark had enough wherewithal over the situation to realize he had to act now to avoid being flung to death. And with no way to reach the actual door, only one real option remained... to jump out the hangar bay door. With one quick movement, Stark steps back and disappears from sight just like that. Had he fallen? Nah. Dude's totally hanging off the ledge, griping and groaning over the fact as he rides out the craziness inside…

Mitra Kahn's lightsaber turned on in a flourish of yellow as the double-blade swirled about, deflecting a series of blaster bolts fired at her and Pojo. One, two, three bolts were deflected and suddenly something felt off. The blade began to flicker in and out shortly before restoring itself, enough of an indication to cause Mitra to follow the Force's guidance and dodge the next blaster bolt that was aimed for her shoulder. Standing between Pojo and the troopers, her senses flared the moment Beldok activated the tractor beam. With only seconds to react, Mitra released her channeled Force energy with a swipe of the hand, aiming a vortex of kinetic energy towards stray Jedi in a desperate act to push them to the wall Beldok ran to. Propelling herself forward with a roll, she'd attempt to pick up Pojo as she too fled away from the tractor beam's reach.

Lord Garhen felt pain. Intense pain. Like he'd never felt pain before. He kept deflecting the bolts, until his lightsaber's blade began to diminish. Growling, a bestial sound, he drew on the pain he felt coming from his wounds, and used it to power his way into a Force Jump that sent him sailing through the air, the Sith landing and nearly doubling over as the leg wound took on the pressure of his weight again. At the yell to run he began sprinting away towards the exit, using the pain in his leg to fuel his run.

"Not our younglings." Eron’s voice was a defensive, animalistic growl, and with an energetic, almost serpentine snarl, the saber ignited, twisting and whirling about to deflect as many bolts as he were able, slashing with a furious and unrestrained ferocity at any soldier who dared come too close - but the burst of supernatural power wouldn't last for long. With a strangled hrk-! something stifled him, something vampiric, something that caught the chessmaster unaware, sapped at his very self. Eron's head suddenly swam, flailed at his connection to the Force. And with this came an unfortunate epiphany: This Republic knew the power. Knew it, and actively sought to eradicate it. The confusion and horror hardly dampened his feelings - only amplified them. And Wilo was gone. Wilo couldn't help. His own master was long gone. Eron was just a man, here - but a weakened man fueled by confusion and a seething fury. And a man with a small blaster pistol. With a final push and an unintentionally frenetic stagger, he whipped it out, rushing in front of and covering his comrades with a wild fervor even as he raced after Beldok, propelled by Mitra's push, calling upon the last, tenuous connections he could muster with the Force...not to fight, but to hide, to distract, to dodge, scramble and encourage chaos as the tractor beams proved more effective at whipping things and people about than his own Force had. Like some shirking coward. "Yes," he agreed, frantic voice oddly bereft of performance or pomp. "We run. WE RUN." And so, he did, fleeing the beam's reach alongside the others."

Beldok Sekel was smart enough not to press the advantage. It was a gamble and a risky one at that. No, It was time to flee. There was no advantage to be had. Some soldiers were still on their feet, other Jedi were not. He urged those that maintained their footing to run. "Go! NOW!" He knew if they fought, the Republic would claim self defense and crucify the Jedi. They had to run, because then the Republic would have to murder them or settle with Wilow and be gone. Beldok fled to the hangar doors, to the shadows, where he belonged. Where he could disappear.

Jae Kahn was in mid-swing of an attack when he felt a tremor through the Force that scorched his mind and warned him of danger. Unfortunately for him, the danger that he quickly became aware of was the tractor beam turning on and not the blaster cannon fired at him from one of the soldiers. In an instant, Jae became enveloped by pain as the force was viciously ripped from his being. Only those in tuned with the Force could truly grasp the excruciating torment as if Jae's flesh was sliced bit by bit from his muscles. Releasing his lightsabers, the blades deactivated, though before the hilts could hit the ground Jae and his weapons became swept up in the vacuum of the tractor beam. Yanked from the ground, his body was thrown about like a rag doll before colliding fiercely with the western wall where the echoes of his spine cracking could be heard by anyone nearby. Collapsing to the ground, Jae was motionless and broken with each breath being a struggle. It was then that he realized the true meaning of his friend's words. Somehow, Wilowchehuckt knew of Jae's fate and the words that had said weren't spoken as if they would see one another again (at least in a corporeal form), but one of eternal farewell. Unable to move his legs, Jae's eyes peered out into the chaos, watching everything he loved and knew fall into pieces. Unable to feel the Force, he clung to the only comfort he had left - the sight of his daughter.

[#] Several of the security guards and super soldiers would be swept away like rag dolls. Broken and smashed like insignificant little things. Several however were very keen on following the jedi and their escape. One even taking a similar opinion as Stark. winding up dangling from the lip of the hanger out into the free air. Eyeing the dangling man up with menacing scowls. Though at the moment was more concerned with just hanging on for dear life. Only one of the black soldiers had managed to keep up with the Jedi and Garhen at this point. And as they tucked into what seemed like safety, he would be lunging right for Beldok to grab any clothing possible, jam his blaster into the techy Jedi's.. anywhere.. and fire several bolts, if he could pull it off. The majority of the soldiers had made it to the shuttle however, as the thing went slowly scraping across the hangar floor towards the wall. It would take the combined efforts of many of the Republic soldiers, though eventually they would be shutting off that tractor beam. Plenty of time for the Jedi troop to escape and get some distance away. Though the moment the beams had been shut off, the broken ragdoll of Jae would be promptly collected, and drug out to the center of the cleared space in the hangar, where Ulain was swiftly approaching with a scowl.

Pojo was tossed with the others in the direction of fleeing. So many smells attacked his nose. Burning, fear, excitement, anger, all swept up in one big pot of battle scent. And one of the closer nastier smells was that of burning fur. His, unfortunately. Though no serious wound, he felt slower, not quite hurting as the shock of battle was keeping him from feeling much physically. He limped as fast as he could away from the hanger, hopefully ignored, but unlikely. They were targeting everything. Enemy and ally would see a long streak of seared fur and flesh along his left side, from shoulder to flank, a grazing shot that burned a bit of flesh with it. Only adrenaline was keeping him moving, currently vulnerable to attack with his distracted focus of forwards momentum.

Lord Garhen panted heavily, blood pouring from the wounds inflicted on him from those, frankly, unholy weapons. As he turned a corner, he felt fatigue wash over him from having relied so heavily on his own pain to amplify his abilities enough to escape. "...Damn..." He couldn't give up...not yet. He glanced about him, scanning the room, then reignited his lightsaber and began to slash any metallic or otherwise easily cut though somewhat durable objects from the walls, sending sparks flying. When he felt enough debris was around him, he sat on the ground, and just closed everything else out for a time, focusing on the last look Wilow had given him. A cold hate for how the wookiee had submissively gone with them flooded his being, empowering him. When the elite Republic Troops would come, he would be ready as he delved into the Force. [1/2]

Stark, all hanging from the edge of the hangar like, simply sighs in a very audible and very exhausted fashion. Nothing he could do now, save hang tight and wait things out. Just then, he notices one of the republic troopers take a move out of his own playbook and similarly go to dangling outside the hangar drop off. With a roguish smile, Stark looks over and hollers, "Howdy! How's it hangin'?" Har har. Of course, be a shame if that lil' feller were to shimmy on back up and inform the others there was a Jedi hangin' off the ledge, you know? So, more or less out of simple necessity, Stark takes another sigh, sticks out his hand and uses the force to push/hurl/whatever the poor sod off into oblivion. "Hate to see ya go, love to watch you leave."

Beldok Sekel's tunic is fitted to form to the Zeltron's lithe form, still the sleeves of his shirt are rather loose and flowy and prone to being caught by grasping fingers. If they're fast enough. Still he should have just let them leave peacefully and cut their losses. Beldok was far from being as skilled with a lightsaber as say Doren, but still a competent combatant. As he felt the soldiers tug at his left sleeve, Beldok turned with the motion. His right hand pulling a lightsaber from his belt and thumbing the activation stud as it swung upwards, attempting to slice through the soldier's arm. Beldok was not hesitant to use lethal force. It came with the territory of his position. Still, arms can be replaced. "Better to leave with your life, while you can."

Mitra Kahn was in process of a full retreat when she heard her father's familiar voice practically ripped out from his lungs. Turning, she could only watch in sheer horror as Jae's body shot up into the air and was thrown around like it was a piece of debris caught in a maelstrom. "No!" she screamed out, her own voice muffled by the humming of the tractor beam as she saw Jae crash into the wall and collapse on the ground. All of her training and discipline shattered in an instant as emotions swirled like a vortex inside of her. She lost the Order, she lost Wilowchehuckt and Doren, but to lose her father... She just didn't have enough strength in her for that! Changing course, Mitra skidded and headed in the direction of her broken father. Noting Ulain's approach, her eyes narrowed as an unfamiliar, yet... seductive anger coursed through her.

[#] The dangling trooper with Stark would be scowling even more. "Go die in a hold Jedi sc--" Apparently whatever he had to say would go unfinished, as he was rather rudely ripped away from the ledge and cast elsewhere to fall.. and probably land on something solid and probably die. The trooper that had gone for Beldok at least might still be alive in the aftermath. Although the lightsaber would take his arm entirely, interrupting the bolt from the blaster. Arm and weapon both falling as the guy went pitching over screaming. As Mitra came skidding closer, the soldiers left on the hanger dock would once more open fire. Their weapons doing a combination of ripping the force from her body, and firing it straight back at her with devastating force. The soldiers holding onto Jae would be promptly putting the floppy Jedi to his knees. Holding each of his arms out as Ulain approached from behind. Drawing a fancy, decorative blade from his uniform's belt. While the head of state was not a needlessly cruel man, his orders had been very clear. "You fools could have kept your life. But your defiance has cost it. Now you will all die." Lifting the blade vertically for only a brief moment, before plunging the tip down through the back of Jae's neck towards the floor. Death would come within seconds. Although the troopers were not promptly giving chase, the message was very clear. Any remaining Jedi would be found and killed if they did not surrender themselves to the Republic's whims. There were still a significant number of soldiers here, and it seemed particularly hopeless for the remaining group. Perhaps fleeing was their best chance. For it seemed like the republic soldiers would be taking their sweet time in clean sweeping the temple, and the rest of this world.

Pojo felt a tear behind him, ears pinned back, looking behind him at the scene. Mitra was angry. Very angry. He finally found something! He wasn't going to give it up if he could avoid it. Unfortunately he was not very fast, but he scooted along as quick as he could. Unless stopped by another, he would try to catch up to Mitra, teeth grabbing the back of a pant leg or cloak , whatever was within reach. Giving a pathetic whimper if she looked his way. He didn't want her to fall too. And now that he was over here, he would need help escaping. Of course, if she ran right back into the hanger, he knew entering that was a death trap and would hold back.

Beldok Sekel's soldier collapsed holding his cauterized stump, alive and out of the fight. Mitra. he noticed, had run back into the fray. still green. They had to leave, now. Beldok reached out in the force and pulled at Mitra. It was fast and ugly, definitely not enough to do anything drastic. She was too far off for that, but it might save her life. RUN!! He told her through the force.

Jae's horrific fate was nearly lost upon the retreating Eron; indeed, self-preservation was the man's default, in spite of the top-notch training he'd received over the years. And yet... "What do you think you're doing, girl?!" Fool! The beams had been shut off. He was quite some distance away. But Mitra had spun about, headed BACK towards the profane scene that continued to unfold, back towards the Jedi carrion, back into the inelegant chaos. His own saber was gripped in one hand, the crude little blaster in the other; the former was pocketed in favor of the mundane - for it was the unholy and the civilian that seemed to have the advantage in this strange battle. Several shrewd shots bought the small group several moments, though he wasn't heedless enough to charge back into the fray. "DO YOU WISH TO JOIN HIM, MITRA," he snarled. "LISTEN TO YOUR STUDENT!" "

Lord Garhen had seemingly lost his pursuers, and had decided to try and make his way back to the hanger, letting the Republic go after the Padawans. Clutching the wound to his gut, the would be Sith limped quickly back to the place, and peaked his head around and witnessed as Jae died. He felt...nothing. That is, nothing from the Jedi Master. No echoe or ripple that was the normal feeling when a user of the Force died. Just...an empty void. And it chilled him to the bone this feeling. He gazed at Ulain's back, and didn't move. His wounds were too severe for him to get close to him now, though something else caught his attention: Mitra. "Move it now! You can avenge him later!" He screamed at the Jedi Knight, and made a motion for her to come.

Stark keeps hangin' on. He passes the time in his head with an age old song... one that transcends all limitations of space, time and genre, 'Never gonna give you up... never gonna let you down...' 'Cept Jae. Can't speak for him. Stark'd peeked his head up just enough to watch the grizzly scene go down before resuming his hidey-hole hangin'. Man, that had to hurt. "...Go to Ossus, join the Jedi they said. It'll be fun, they said..." Again, he sighs.

Wilowchehuckt had the foresight for the events that were happening, but foresight never prepares one for the moment. While he did not stand or otherwise do anything else to provoke his guards, his roar would easily be heard from within the ship and even a bit outside of the hanger, soon followed by a moan of loss. His brother was gone, and was prevented from becoming one with the Force due to the abominations the Republic wielded. As for E3B, the droid had somehow managed to avoid being destroyed in the crossfire, and had zoomed over to Mitra. Instead of using words, it simply bumped into her chest and maybe added a bit more force to Beldok and Pojo's pull for her to GTFO.

Mitra Kahn, indeed, felt the tug on her cloak but continued her pursuit regardless. Then there was a much stronger pull, one of the force, that finally halted her momentum and gave her just a few moments to recollect herself. Blaster fire was aimed in her direction as double-blade swirled around to deflect what it could; three shots and the top blade fizzled out, two and the bottom blade was gone. It was enough time for her to witness the killing blow and to feel that piece of her heart reserved for her father vanish. As another bolt pierced her shoulder, Mitra hissed in pain as smoke lifted from the wound. Staggering a few steps back, she clipped her hilt to her belt, reached out with her hand and beckoned one of her father's lightsabers. Spotting Wilowchehuckt's droid, Mitra lifted her padawan and fled in full retreat with the rest of the group. Following Beldok and the other's leads, Mitra couldn't ignore the dark presence at the back of her mind.
Mitra Kahn also somehow drags Garhen.. xD()

Beldok Sekel flees all anti-climactic like, because it's super late and his player has to work in the morning.

[#] Those who lingered most certainly would be filled with blaster holes of the not pleasant sort. Specialized weapons that ripped the force from bodies in the most painful of fashions, to power the weapon's destructive force. Through the rest of the night, the Republic would hold true to their word. Any Jedi they encountered that resisted, would be executed on the spot. And those that surrendered would be treated surprisingly decently. Unless the younglings attacked, they too would be kidnapped. Fleeing was a good plan. Republicans were bastards.