The Sacking of Coruscant

[Zmaj]

The Sacking of Coruscant
It is a dangerous time for the Republic. The Empire, feigning a peace offer after decades
of fighting between the two factions, has betrayed its promise and laid siege to Coruscant,
the capital of Republic space. A massive force of Sith and Imperial soldiers has landed
on the planet, leaving chaos and despair in its wake. With many of the planet's leaders
away on Alderaan for the false peace conference and the entire planet in jeopardy,
the citizens and fighters of the Republic must find a way to survive the onslaught.

--------

((This thread is meant for all one-shot stories that take place during The Sacking. If you get inspired and want to carry out an RP thread for this, feel free to do so separately from the prompt. All characters from all factions welcome! Special thanks to @Aolanni, who started the first planning threads for this a year ago!))

[Wymarc]

This is one of the first stories I posted to these forums - I've made a couple edits

  Telline had been studying in the archives. She was not yet a padawan, and spent her time learning, training, and serving here. She had grown more accustomed to the hum of knowledge there than even to her chambers in the dormitory wing. But now archive was silent. The Sith had come.

  The Temple had been her home for since she was a small child. It had always been safe. A bastion against the cruel world in the Coruscant skyline. But the Sith had come. It didn't seem possible. How had this happened? How had the masters let it happen?

  The Sith had breached the atrium before she had even known they were there. The few masters still here had perished beneath the red blades of the Sith. Now they roamed the halls, killing anything that breathed. Telline knew this - in the small part of her mind that still thought rationally. But this was impossible. The Temple was safe.

  She heard footsteps.

  Her heart froze. Panicked terror over came her. The two Sith in the hallways reached out, feeling for life through the Force. Her terror was a light in the dark to them. They are going to kill me! They are going to kill everyone! They will destroy it all, leave no trace of us for the masters to find...

  /There is no emotion, there is peace/

  Her mind settled. She held herself at peace where she stood. She had hidden in among the shelves, so when the Sith entered the room, they did not see her. She reached out, feeling the warm caress of this familiar place, the strength of the wisdom it contained. And then she very calmly walked out. Walked right past the Sith, who never even noticed she was there.

  She walked down the hallway. Cries and echoes of the slaughter lofted through the chambers and the halls. She saw a door, remarkably closed unlike every other door on this hall. Every other room had been the site of murder and ransacking. She approached the door, and gently knocked. Silence. After a few moments she tried the panel (locked) and knocked again.
  A voice sounded from within. "Go away, Sith!"
  Telline replied, "I'm not a Sith. I'm a student. A Sith would have just cut the door down." It was true. A good number of the other doors on this level had been cut open with lightsabers.
  "How do we know this isn't a trick?"
  "Reach out with the force. What do your instincts tell you?"
After a moment, the door unlocked. Telline opened it and entered.

  Inside were twelve younglings, the oldest of which seemed to be about eight. One of the younger ones spoke up, "Drace told us to do it! We didn't want to lock us in here but he made us!"
Telline replied, "Casting blame hardly seems to be the Jedi way. Especially when it was the right thing to do."
The oldest, Drace, opened his mouth to say something, but Telline lifted her hand, cutting off any further conversation. There were footsteps outside. Trapped. There was no hope of getting past the Sith now.

  /There is no ignorance, there is knowledge/

  She quickly thought to Drace, ::Maintenance panel?:: He nodded, and started to a hidden wall panel. Panels like this were not uncommon. They provided access to maintenance areas used by custodial staff, without imposing upon the aesthetics of the architecture. The Temple shook as the Sith began bombarding it. They would leave the Temple in ruins, a testament to their victory. Telline followed the pack.

  They scurried down a short shaft, turned left at a T intersection and opened a hatch into a wide hallway. Debris fell all around them. At the end of the hall were lift tubes. She pointed to the tubes and whispered to the younglings as they scurried past, "Go!" But just as they got to the tubes, a statue toppled in front of them. Telline spun. A Sith, human, stood twenty paces behind them. He was young, no more than an apprentice, but his lightsaber blazed with crimson fury. He grinned and stalked towards them. Telline stepped forward. She had been instructed in lightsaber combat, but was presently unarmed. She cleared her mind, and hoped the Force would have her prevail.

  She ducked to the side even as his feet left the ground in a leap at her. The Sith spun, lightsaber arcing out in a wild swing that Telline ducked, countering by grabbing his wrist and attempting to immobilize his lightsaber. But he took advantage of her gambit by grabbing her hand and twisting, holding her in place and breaking her grip on his arm. "Weak. Now you die!" He prepared to bring his lightsaber down on her head, but before the blow could connect, Telline's boot swung up and connected with his face. Stunned, he was shoved under a piece of falling debris. Telline knelt and picked up his lightsaber from where it had fallen.

  As the young Sith regained his senses, he saw her standing above him with his lightsaber leveled at his throat. He screamed with the power of the Force, a scream Telline felt in her bones. But he was trapped. He tried to lift his arms, wiggle free, but to no avail. Anger boiled in her, rage and fear at this attack on her home, the attack on her. She readied her strike.

  /There is no passion, there is serenity/

  She didn't have time or energy for this. She dropped the lightsaber, letting it extinguish again. The younglings had already cleared enough of the debris for them to get into a lift tube. They rode it to the bottom, hearing the top of the tube get crushed under falling rubble. When they stepped out, they were in the bowels of Coruscant. The Works. The clacking of machinery echoed around them. They ran. Turn after turn. Down this hallway, up this lift tube. The whole time hearing the echoing roar of their home. They ran until they were to tired to run. And still she felt the pursuing Sith behind them.
  Drace wailed,"Now what do we do? We're lost!"
  And that they were. There was no rhyme or reason to the random pattern of passages, intersections, and lifts. No way to navigate except by the sounds of destruction coming from the Temple.

  /There is no Chaos, there is harmony/

  These passages were made by people, so people must be able to get here from the surface. They just had to keep going and let the Force guide them. She lifted the younglings to their feet. "Come. We have to keep moving." They kept running and running, nothing but the darkness behind them and the bombardment above them penetrating their senses. Suddenly, as they rounded a bend, they say an Imperial shuttle hovering, preparing to land. Telline pulled the younglings back around the corner and desperately searched for an exit or somewhere to hide. She found it. A garbage incineration chamber, just large enough for them all to stand in. She ushered them in, silencing their complaints.

  Footsteps echoed outside. She willed for the small door not to be noticed. For the Sith to overlook them. Debris was raining down all around and above them. Eventually the footsteps subsided, and after a time, Telline went to open the incinerator. Only to find it didn't open to the inside. They were trapped. Lost. Where no one would ever find them. She was tired. She was beaten. Ready to die. The debris continued to fall. It would fall forever, in her mind.

  /There is no death, there is the Force/



  ::Help::

[Esk]

What Was Lost

~~~~~

"Mind your passion, Etirza." Master Jarkhal studies the small zabrak girl, who reads on her own, apart from the other initiates. "Single-minded, you are alone. Take heed of your clan."

~~~~~

More explosions rumble the Temple walls. Etirza stands alone at one end of the chamber, ear pressed against the cold marble, listening intently. The barest stubs of small horns make bumps on her head, disturbing the the smooth sweep of her brown hair. Her crimson face is serious, her black tattoos curling along her cheeks into an expression of deep concentration.

At the other end of the chamber, Baba Ahu and Nou'kya stand with the other initiates, training sabers raised, on guard. Nou'kya, her own lekku barely quivering out of her blue head, yells, "Tirz! Get back here! You're gonna get hurt! Master Jarkhal-"

"Master Jarkhal isn't here!" Etirza hisses, "And I want to hear if any Sith are coming!"

Nou'kya frowns, lifting her training blade higher. Baba, a neimoidian, burbles, "Fat good that'd do you if you get blown up or crushed by the wall!"

"Shhhh!" Etirza hisses again. She closes her green-flecked eyes and listens once more.

BOOM!
BOOM!
The explosions continue.

More distantly, the movement of trooping feet. The hum and buzz of lightsabers. Screams. Blaster shots. The thump of bodies hitting the ground. The soft squelches of boots against blood.

~~~~~

"Master Jarkhal, I can't help if the others haven't learned." The zabrak girl stares up at her instructor. "They slow me down."

The Jedi Master replies, "Help them, then." He frowns. "If you are a single reed in the storm, you will break. And you will fall."

~~~~~

Snap. Something's been crushed underfoot. The boots are getting closer, and louder.

The swish of cloaks. The murmur of conversation. "Find the Jedi whelps. As many as you can! Slay them."

Etirza opens her eyes. She catches Baba's attention, mouthing, "Someone's coming."

The initiates curl even more closely into their corner, lifting training sabers.

"Get back here then, Tirz!" Nou'kya whispers.

Etirza shakes her head, her small body pressed against the wall, eyes fixed on the door nearby. The footsteps continue to approach.

From the other corner of the room, Baba begins to speak softly to the others: "We are the Dragon Clan. We are not afraid."

Etirza mutters, "There is no emotion, there is peace."

Baba continues, his saber quivering. "We have learned the lessons of our instructors."

"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge."

Nou'kya follows after Baba, "We are calm. We are cool. We will not be scared."

"There is no passion, there is serenity."

Nou'kya continues, closing her eyes. The blue light of her training blade highlights the blue of her cheeks. "When everything falls around us, we are still one."

Etirza grips the wall with her fingers. "There is no chaos, there is harmony."

The footsteps echo along the hallway outside. Etirza squeezes her eyes shut.

Baba and Nou'kya pause, then the twi'lek whispers, "Tirz, it's your line now!"

Etirza shakes her head fervently, placing a finger on her lips.

Nou'kya frowns, turning to gaze at Baba, who stubbornly finishes, "We are the Dragon Clan. We will endure!"

The boots stop.

Suddenly, the door explodes inwards, scattering rocks and debris as the wall around it is blown apart. Etirza is thrown back into the huddled crowd, her training saber spinning out of her hands.

The others catch her and huddle around. Baba Ahu and Nou'kya stand taller, their green and blue training sabers joining the other blades as now the only lights in the half-destroyed chamber.

Crunch.

A hooded Sith steps out of the swirling dust. Her eyes are a diseased yellow; they glow in the darkness. She licks her lips. "Jedi whelplings... Mmmm... So fresh for the plucking."  She languidly ignites her red saber, its fiery light casting a tall shadow behind her into darkness.

Nou'kya and Baba Ahu raise their small blades, silent, wide-eyed. Nou'kya's short lekku stubs quiver. Etirza struggles through the mass of the other initiates, looking for her blade among whispers of "Tirz, stay still!"

The Sith walks closer, her blade swinging with the natural swing of her arms. "Dissension among the ranks, hmm? It's amazing what a little fear can do," She feints forward, causing Baba Ahu to scream, "Even to the oh-so-fearless Jedi." She laughs.

Baba collects himself. He and Nou'kya hold their ground.

Etirza finally finds her blade, then pushes through to the front to stand beside Baba and Nou'kya. "I'm not scared!" Her small voice rings loud in the tense silence. She ignites her yellow training saber.

"Tirz!" Nou'kya hisses.

Etirza steps forward and swings wildly at the Sith. Her saber is easily batted away with a flick of the Sith's blade.

"A volunteer to die. Hmm? I like your spirit." The Sith grins with sharp, polished teeth, "And your coloring..." She lifts Etirza's crimson chin, inspecting her tattoos. "Hmmm... Why stay here with those who hold you back? Wouldn't you rather come with me, and learn true power?"

Etirza's mouth twitches, her brows scrunching in thought.

~~~~~

"But I don't get along with them!" The zabrak girl complains, "And they don't care for me!"

"Does it matter?" Master Jarkhal asks. "Reach out." He turns to go. "Find serenity."

~~~~~

Suddenly, Etirza's fist shoots forward, punching the woman in the crotch.

"Ahhh!!!!" The Sith slashes with her saber.

"Tirz watch out!" Nou'kya pounces on Etirza, blade raised in protection.

The Sith slices right through the training blade, and then, through the young twi'lek herself. The smell of burning flesh wafts over Etirza, followed by the scent of flowers.

Etirza's head hits the ground with a crack.

Baba lifts his blade, "We are the Dragon Clan! We are not afraid! We will endure!" He pushes forward, slashing his saber in the controlled swings he had been taught. His clan mates also charge: a sea of lit training blades, surging forward.

Before a minute has passed, the fight is over.

The Sith lifts her singed robes, stepping over the heap of bodies. She sneers, turning round and round and examining her work. Above her head stretch ancient words, cut into the stone wall of the instruction chamber: "DEATH, YET THE FORCE."

The Sith bends, rooting through the bodies for that small life presence lurking at the edge of her senses. She drags out a zabrak girl. Smirking, the Sith throws Etirza over her shoulder.

***************

"Master Freo, the Dragon Clan is accounted for."

"Casualties?"

"All initiates were slain... it seems."

Beran Freo bows his head.

"Except for one, a zabrak girl, found in the custody of a Sith who was slain."

"Why take a single prisoner?"

"I don't know, Master."

"What of the girl? Does she know?"

"She doesn't remember."

Beran Freo sighs. "Bind her wounds, Eswolyn. There will be greater tragedies that we see before this day's end."

[Lolermelon]

They Say I'm Good For Morale

The Pureblood, for all his good humor... was not entirely well-pleased with what was to come. He sat, in the busy Coruscant cantina, and drank with those who desired his company. Taelios, of course, was not supposed to be here. Yet, like all the other times and places he was not supposed to be... there he was.

"Next round's on me. Like the last one. And the one after next! Let it not be said the Empire is incapable of good cheer." The tiny little Sith waved his hands merrily, applying the force liberally to his "guests". Easily influenced minds offered cheers of encouragement and excitement, and a few even hoisted the Imperial into the air atop his chair.

A subtle wave here, fiddling with a datapad there. The Sith worked quickly, unnoticed by clouded minds, using what technology he had on hand to cut off connection to the holonet. It was almost time... and so the music mysteriously increased in volume.

The crowd offered a cheer as ships dropped out of hyperspace...
The cheering grew louder, and there was merriment and mirth... as the bombardment began.
Bass pumped throughout the building... and yet, outside...

[Blazer3136]

The world of Coruscant was reeling. The Jedi Temple was in flames, and Imperial troops marched throughout the streets with only the most ragtag of resistance.

And in that time, Darth Creygor strolled about with his guardsmen. His cape billowed behind him with every stride, his guardsmen keeping respectful distance with rifles bared. Every now and then, a family would be sighted, huddled in darkened corners of their destroyed homes. The Sith paid them no mind, weak blood and flesh rarely held any flavor to him.

Jedi were another piece all together, and it was when his senses peaked. Nostrils flared, the irises of his helmet tightening as his tongue lapped over his teeth in anticipation. Silence, as the cacophony of screams and gunshots were put to an end around him. He could hear his prey's heart beating. He could feel it, and the image of it pumping just a few more times into his gauntlet was enough to make him break the silence with a leap.

He came smashing through the weakened wall, trusting his instincts and armor to protect him from possibly fatal or inconvenient injuries. His prey wore the armored robes of a Knight, but his bearing was something else entirely. The small children behind him gave off a peculiar scent of innocence that was a pleasurably disgusting one. The Knight charged, and the guardsmen watched. Creygor parried an overhead slash, bringing his clawed gauntlet around to rake at the side of his opponents legs.

The rake cut veins, the smooth robes of his opponent turning a dirtied sanguine hue. He swung to remove his arm, but Creygor parried it again, this time sliding the blade down to cripple the wielder. With a scream, three of the Jedi’s fingers were shorn away and the lightsaber plummeted to the ground. Creygor continued to dig his hand into the flesh of his opponent, prying out vital veins and quickly reducing his victim to a mass of meat.

His finale was kicking his kneeling opponent to the ground, prying off the enemy’s chestpiece, and ramming his fists repeatedly into dying Jedi’s ribcage. With his senses, the audible crack from signaled the perfect time, and the viciously clawed fingers dug into the meat and shattered bone and began to tear. With a final, horrifying snap he pried open the torso of his foe and removed his heart.

The feeling, to Creygor, was exquisitely pleasurable. The fear of the innocent was, more or less, a lovely dressing for his meal. Once the rush left him, he simply crushed the vital organ and stood up to the children. With subtle hand motions, his guardsmen moved forward to capture the younglings. The overseers of the academy could mold them into something useful, he was sure.

Creygor bent down, gently plucked the lightsaber from the ground and placing it on the inside of his cloaked war-plate. Alongside it were various others, all of them pried from their previous owner's dead grasps. His guardsmen each had their own bulging satchels of pilfered credits and items of value. The dead had no need of objects.

He saw it as a morbid duty to relieve them of such a dreadful burden. Taking their lives was simply a personal preference.

[Zmaj]

Day 3

The thuds of bombs are not a shock to hear even from this far down in Coruscant, lessened in frequency but still they go on. Wounds have begun to reduce to dull aching and scars. Patrol set up around the warehouse is so regular that it seems like its always been here.

Clusters of civilians, medical personnel and soldiers all work together to make sure the place runs. Water is no longer a problem. Somehow everyone has gotten food, but it will not last. Higher-ranking officers are getting antsy, feeling like they'll be pounced on any minute.

In the middle of the bustle, a pale young Rattataki sat, unmoving, arms folded to rest atop her knees as her eyes followed the personnel working. A moment's meditation. Her feet hadn't stopped aching ever since she arrived.

There have been a few daredevils who run up top for information and medical supplies. The jedi left are scattered, though alive — she can feel them clinging to what shelter they've found, ashamed of hiding, unsure of breaking out into the open. Scouts say that Imperial soldiers have already begun to move through the streets as if they owned the place. This place had remained hidden, but for how long? And what would the Empire do? There have been whispers about agents being planted amongst survivors, luring wounded jedi in and doing away with them, like spiders hiding in corners.

"Sir? Sir."

A few blinks. The release of a fist she hadn't known she was clenching. One. Slow. Breath. "Sergeant. I took too long, I see."

"No, master jedi. But I have a report."

She really wished he would stop calling her that. What made her so worthy of the name? Hadn't she run with the rest of them? Friends, teachers, children, young and old, falling to something once preventable but now inescapable. And now she was surrounded by wounded soldiers who looked at her, a mere padawan, like she would have a plan for whatever came next. Tiredly, she lowered herself from the small pile of crates, rubbing an aching shoulder. "The scouts returned with the colonel?"

The soldier walked alongside her toward the warehouse entrance. "Things are quiet up top, but the report's days old. The senate building's been taken. Imperial troops are making rounds through civilian houses for survivors from the Temple."

"No good news then..." She rested her face in her hand with a sigh. The sergeant gave her an odd look, almost ready to say something, but she spoke to avoid it. The last thing she needed to hear was another 'I'm sorry'. "I'll go with the next round of scouts. I shouldn't be staying here anyway."

"With all due respect, master jedi, going up there will only get yourself caught."

"Better than staying here and waiting to get everyone caught," she muttered, blinking back the gathering mist in her eyes for the hundredth time that day as she donned an ill-fitting chestplate and helmet. The doors slid open and she picked up a blaster, the weight of it still foreign to her arms, and followed the scouts out, ignoring the concern lurking in the sergeant's stern face.

Blend into the shadows. Stay to the left. No streets. Underground. Don't stop moving. Never stop. Never never never—

--------------

Day Two

She had only ever heard wind like this on Tatooine. On the edge of night around the dunes it would howl, lonely with a sound she could never define as high or low. Harmless outside of sandstorms, but it had always felt like it pierced her bones with ice.

It was no different here, amongst the ruined skyscrapers that had once lit up like glowing trees, the streets once buzzing with life now full of rubble and dust and the dead. All around her there was nothing but fear. Not the heavy kind like there had been in the Temple. It was quiet, like the stillness before an earthquake or a storm, eerie and watchful.

There were probably citizens hiding nearby, eager to tell her to get out of plain sight, hesitant to run into an empty streets to make a bulls'-eye for an errant agent. She clenched her teeth and the holodisk in her scarred fingers, limping onward, dried blood stinging her eyes.

Let them try to take me. Let them try...

------------

Day One

There was fire everywhere. Her legs didn't betray her by rooting her in place, but they ran even while her muscles and lungs burned.

Everything was burning.

Waves of red sabers had advanced up the Temple steps before ten minutes had passed between initial news of the invasion and the sith surging up every staircase and lift. She wanted to take up her lightsaber and fight, hide and scream, fall to her knees and weep.

Fate was generous that day. She got to do all three.

A small wave of sith had provided her with the opportunity to draw her lightsaber, though it earned her a wound in the arm and another on her head. Rage had run on both sides for those few minutes of feeble resistance, and for the first time in her life, she truly understood what it was to embrace it and fight with it. Revenge. Hatred. Anger. It growled in her, clawing at her chest, and unleashed itself on every opponent she felled.

The bomb runs had sent them scattering. She'd had a friend with her whose hand she didn't release until they had to fight, holding tight even after they found a place to hide. Minutes passed in what felt like eons, both hoping for a way off this planet, away from the death and violence and powerlessness of it all. Only when a Republic ship came did she let go of her friend's hand, shoving her into the last spot open for transport. And then she'd run to find her master.

A chance to say goodbye. Her master lay amongst the rubble, eyemask of bone and bead broken to pieces, white hair strewn about her like a halo. A smile. The last of her strength to press a holodisk into her hand, guiding her to a location. A warehouse. The story of a soldier, an inspector, and a consular. "The result of an investigation long ago. Radical survivalists. We raided the place, cleared it out. The two of them had joked that the place was a fortress in disguise," her master had rasped. "They will be there. They will protect you..."

"Master Amicia, you're coming with me. You're coming with me, you have to!"

"My padawan...my time is over..."

"No, Master! Please don't go!"

"Do not weep, my dear... Go and live. Do not give in. Do not hate. There is always hope..."

"Master, don't, please..."

She'd bolted through the streets, not knowing which way to turn, voice ragged with sobbing hidden by the overwhelming noise around her.

Not an hour earlier, the sirens had gone off too late. She and her friend had been sitting by a window in the residential halls, inspecting a newly-repaired robe. A padawan next door had had a fever. Two doors down, another had been resting after a failed trial. One at the end of the hallway was finishing up a new lightsaber, ready to begin her journey as a knight.
 
What was that? Why were all those droids there...?

-----------

Present

There used to be a ceiling there; she remembered the designs of the tiles. The sky looked so calm. Still so many stones after all this time.

"Seema? ...Are you alright?"

"Yes. Just remembering."