A read-only archive of discourse.darkjedibrotherhood.com as of Sunday May 01, 2022.

[GJW XI] House Odan-Urr: Team Can-o-Whoopass


Civil War has befallen the Brotherhood. The Clans have split into three factions: the Loyalists, who have rallied behind Grand Master Ashen; the Rebels, following the banner of Jac Cotelin; and the New Order, led by the mysterious Sith Lord Esoteric. Each faction has stormed the surface of Korriban, establishing impressive fortifications and moving towards the Valley of the Dark Lords. Loyalists, Rebels, and the New Order clash across Korriban’s surface, all three attempting to gain control of the Valley of Dark Lords and the secrets it holds.

The Valley of Dark Lords has erupted in carnage, forces from every unit in the Brotherhood streaming into the ruins and temples, establishing makeshift defensive positions behind virtually every wall. Blood is spilled over every inch, each of the three sides gambling the lives of thousands of Jedi in an attempt to put an end to this conflict once and for all. The Loyalists, following Ashen’s command, seek to break through to the Tomb of Marka Ragnos, where the Disciples of Ragnos once sealed a chamber with writings on the Rite of Immortality. To open it, Ashen has sent three of his most skilled advisors in ancient dark rites and alchemy, but the way is not yet safe or clear for them, as the One Sith were originally entrenched in the Valley and still maintain a strong control over most of the area. Esoteric’s forces have a base of operations at the Tomb of Ajunta Pall, a fortified location that allows them a great deal of mobility throughout the Valley, which they use to harass any operations by the other two sides. The Adept Dantella Novae reluctantly commands Esoteric’s forces in the region, though she seems more interested in stealing the secrets of Marka Ragnos than in defending the Valley itself. Cotelin is seeking to contain and control whatever the Tomb of Marka Ragnos holds, through any means necessary… and before Ashen’s forces can reach it.

You and your team have found yourselves just outside one of the few entrances to the Valley of the Dark Lords. You know that inside the Valley, death and destruction have overtaken the ruins, but you also know that ultimately, victory for one side of the other is likely to come within the walls of the ancient tombs. Your runon should detail the battle within the Valley, and must illustrate (either through success or failure) at least one of the sides in the conflict - this will play a major role in your Story grade.


  • Teams must have a minimum of 4 participants, and a maximum of 6. For a team to qualify for placement, all posts must meet requirements in these rules and all members of the team must meet post number requirements. However, for participation alone, any individual meeting minimum post requirements will count towards his or her unit.
  • Any member posting twice in a row will disqualify his team from placing - but not participation credit (e.g. if an entire team is dead, Johnny McDarthman can post twice in a row to get his own participation at the end of the event)
  • Members must make 3 posts throughout the duration of the Run-On.
  • Posts must meet the following requirements:
    • Minimum post length: 250 +/- 10 words words
    • Maximum post length: 2000 +/- 10 words.
  • Points from placement are awarded to the unit of the placing team, irrespective of number of members on each team. E.g. if CNS Team A takes first place, and first place is worth 50 pts (example only), CNS gets 50 points, regardless of number of members on the team.
  • Edits may occur on a post until a follow on post has been made (follow on posts include “reserving” a space). Edits may only be made by the posts original author (as in, if you have Forum Administration Rights, you cannot edit another member’s work).
  • Members may reserve post, but no posts can occur until after the reserved post is written.
  • Judging will follow the Fiction Rubric.

Team Members:

Liam Torun - Human Male
V’yr Vorsa - Neti Female
A’lora Kituri - Togruta Female
Korvyn - Human Male
Agen Thaer - Zabrak Male

The full competition link can be found here. May the Force be with you!


“Have you come here to die like the Jedi before you? This place is a graveyard for your kind. The call of Korriban is strong, but it is the call of the dead. It is fitting that you came here.” - Darth Sion

Three kilometers overhead
Valley of the Dark Lords

When Sith went to war, the galaxy burned. Markus knew this all too well by now. He had seen it in the madness of Cy Thuron, and he saw it in the actions of the multitudes fighting for trinkets in the dust below. The LAAT transport shook violently once again, enduring the barrage of fire from the surface and fighters swarming around. Loyalist and rebel, Sith and Jedi, all were engaged in bloody war.

His gaze shifted from the viewport back to his squad. The Tanduran and Dac Unified Commandos, The Ducks for short, were eerily calm in their designated seats. Each had his or her own way of coping with what was about to come. Each had his or her own mantra or lament to recite for a longer life. His movement disturbed some of them enough to grasp their attention. Hidden behind visored helmets, the expressions of terror and doubt were an afterthought to these people. As long as they didn’t see their faces, they would remember their training, Markus always thought. But they didn’t have to see. It was enough to know.

“One mike to drop,” the pilot said calmly, as if this was no different from any other mission. They all knew better, though. Markus simply nodded and turned to his squad who were already on their feet, gear checked, awaiting orders. They were close.

Red light. The side doors of the transport slid open as wind rushed into the interior, knocking them off balance. Each man positioned himself next to the open hatch, gazing directly at the smoke and dust covered battlefield below. “Visors on,” Markus ordered as he turned his own multispectral HUD online.

Green light. One by one they were out the door. Markus was the last to jump, with a fond Farewell to the pilots. It was always a rush. He could feel his blood searing his veins from the amount of adrenaline. Rocketing straight down at terminal velocity - nothing was more exhilarating. As he approached the ground he could see green and red circles and dots penetrating the thick dust cover. The visor also measured the distance from the ground, useful for non-Jedi like himself and his team.

Two thousand. “Keep your heading, boys. We’re dead on the bullseye,” he spoke over the wind. He could now see his targets - several green dots surrounded by a multitude of enemies.

One thousand. The barrage from the ground intensified and took out one of his men. Whatever was left probably wasn’t identifiable any more, but he made a mental note to drink in his honor when they got back to the Tipsy Tusken.

Five hundred. “Steady,” he ordered “Circle formation, and punch your thrush on my mark. Let’s ram these kriff’s with as much force as we can,” All of his men gave him a thumbs up, knowing immediately what he was going for. “Everyone pick your victim.”

Fifty. “Mark,” a resounding thunderclap followed as Markus pushed the ignitions switch, the engines of his jetpack roaring to life.

Tomb of an unknown Sith Lord
Valley of the Dark Lords

They had taken cover among the rubble and rocks in front of one of the long abandoned and caved-in Sith tombs. Liam, Korvyn, Vorsa and Agen - one of the Novices fresh from the Academy - were pinned down by enemy fire from all sides. They had nowhere to go.

“We’re losing ground here,” Korvyn yelled over the over the barrage of laser fire. “Where are our reinforcements?”

“They’ll be here soon. Just stand fast.” Liam replied, deflecting another wave of shots aimed for him and Agen, who had no saber of his own.

As if to answer Korvyn’s call, thunder seemed to echo from the sky as retrothrusters kicked into life. Eleven heavily armored and heavily armed men dropped like an inferno on the enemy. The first one hit the ground near Agen and started laying down a massive barrage on the enemies in the open. The second, third, fourth and fifth somehow landed atop the enemy, crushing them into the dirt. The rest followed in similar fashion as utter chaos and dismay gripped the enemy ranks.

“Push forward,” Vorsa yelled over the tumult, seizing the momentum The Ducks provided them. She cut through their ranks like a searing knife, as the rest of the Jedi followed suit. Bodies flew through the air from telekinetic strikes, severed limbs were trampled underfoot and blood and intestines filled the already blood-red sands of the Valley of the Dark Lords. So it has been for millennia, and so it shall always be. Korriban will always remain a cursed planet.


Behind enemy lines

At the same time

“Now, sisters!” Rhiaen Ust’essi shouted into the minds of the two Jedi at her side - the three locked into a melding of thoughts and identities. Aside from the lingering bond between the Ust’essi sisters, the three had forged together a deeper connection through the shared emotions of fighting side-by-side against the Brotherhood. Cerulean trails blazed a passage through the bodies of oncoming footsoldiers, while the maelstrom of the Togruta’s emerald blades decimated their right flank with ruthless efficiency.

Cascading in the tumult of their movements, Lekku of various hues trailed behind the multi-coloured blurs flowing across the battlefield. Exhibiting the grace and beauty of a choreographed troupe of exotic entertainers from the Outer Rim, it was no wonder the the enemy hesitated in their assault for a brief - but critical - moment. Even their attire was suited towards this illusion, with all three adopting similarly revealing outfits; though, where A’lora had chosen her garment for mobility and practicality, the Ust’essi sisters revelled in the distractions accredited to maintaining a lavish appearance. Crashing against the first line of reinforcements like a waterfall descends upon rocks, the Jedi wore down the approaching soldiers of the Arconan Eighth Division.

Caught between a rock and a hard place, the Arconan forces didn’t stand a chance. Where their attention was focused at first on the Tanduran and Dac Unified Commandos, the sudden massacre on their flank would have driven them into a strategic retreat - if it hadn’t been sealed off behind them.

Markus didn’t take his finger from the trigger. His instincts has honed his nerves to a fine edge; the rifle in his hands acted of its own accord. One. Two. Three… he counted in his head, the rhythmic pattern controlling his breathing. Each count, one of the opposing side fell. He credited each kill to the blood thirst of the E11 Blaster Rifle as it unleashed whatever hell it was that had these cowards running for cover. A deep breath calmed his tension, alerted his senses. The finger that rested on the trigger stopped a hair’s width from releasing a volley of blaster fire into the Arconan forces when he spotted what he recognized as familiar faces in the sea of enemies he faced.

He smirked, lowering the blaster’s sights, “There, Sir! Reinforcements of ours?”

Liam Torun smiled, “Yes. I can sense them from here. Press forward!” He ordered, with as much relieved enthusiasm as he could muster. Cries of impending victory could be heard from the Ducks when the order was received - it broke the Arconans’ spirits, sending their morale into a plummet. Most of the opposing soldiers took up defensive positions in the limited cover of eroded stone obelisks, while others took their chances with the retreat.