Skirmish &nbsp; Apocryphon | NIO Imperial Knights vs DA

The Grim Lady | Inon |

"Why have you come here?"

The question was a simple one to answer, yet the Autarch - clad in scientifically perfected aegis of red and black - did not give the Kel Dor sage the benefit of one. At least, not immediately. Instead, his masked gaze scanned the interior of the chamber, marveling at the intricate stonework that could tell a thousand and one stories if properly examined, had he and his compatriots had the time to do so. It was an astonishing place, one that offered great tranquility even for those drinking from the soup of tar that infested them with power untold. But there was no full tranquility to be had for the Devil, the beating of lightning crackling under the tips of his gloved fingers.

No, instead his gaze, steely and hollow under the maroon plate, roamed from etching to etching and finally down upon the unmasked Kel Dor who were like dust mites under his immense stature. Some looked upon him and his cadre with blatant disdain and fear, while others looked upon them with awe and interest.

One of the former made a sudden jerk towards a wooden staff on the floor next to her, and the Autarch responded immediately by lowering his gloved right hand to the lightsaber clasped to his belt. Crackling fingers brushed against the handle of this weapon and the switch necessary to activate the crimson judgment that had befallen those who were not able to retreat to this room. Or those that had attempted to fight back. The individual backed away just as quickly as she had moved forward.

"Why have you come here?" the sage asked once again, acting as the frontman for the two dozen or so that stood in this room, gawking at the Sith. "We are people of peace. We have done you no harm in your conquests and we have avoided conflict for generations now. And yet, you now come here and break the rules of our covenant? Why?"

The Autarch remained silent for a moment longer before adjusting his stance and chuckling. The voice that responded to the Kel Dor's inquiry was a harrowing one, distorted by the helmet granting him filtered oxygen, in spite of his possible lack of need for such. "If the rules you followed brought you to this, of what use were the rules?"

Kascalion let the Kel Dor ponder this as best they could before continuing and motioning to the three standing next to him, "Why does a krayt dragon claim a den better than the others? Why does a Rancor establish itself as the head of the table amongst its kind? Why do the Jedi and the Sith establish themselves as the directors of this Universe?"

A Presence.

He suddenly swung his head - accompanied by the hissing and whirring of his armor's servos - towards the open archway of the chamber, his masked grinning skull glaring into the dim halls of ancient rock. A sensation as cold as Ilum ice ran through his body as a voice as deep as the grave clawed at his brain with a croak and a groan. A Presence. A Presence in the Force coming now. Soon. Close. Coming now. Down the halls, take a right and a left further up. A man. You know him. What was his name? No matter. The Metallic Visage of Death. His knights.

"You need to see what I have seen to answer these questions, Kel Dor," he said, signaling to his compatriots of the looming doom approaching them. "Take positions before they arrive and see to it that they are ended quickly."

He turned back to the sages and offered a curt nod, "You now have a choice to make...or face oblivion and lose all you love."

Darth Kizash · Nov 1, 2020

Now how did I get myself in this mess? Last I remembered, the imperials had one for me and by their hand I fell. I hated myself for it too. The weakness of the flesh. How vulnerable it made us all and the pain it wrought. Weakness that had to be expunged.

And Yet still here I stood. Somehow.... A rebreather on my face and adorned in black cloak and robes. Once I was surrounded by cultist and well, not much is different here. The Baran Do Sages were exactly that no matter how you pressed it. Hood over my head, I let my eyes roll hearing the constant questioning on their part.

Kascalion Giedfield ’s answer to them only made things worse as well. “ You cant answer a question with a question.” I said stoically as I stepped foward and drew two lightsabers from my belt. One for my right hand. One for my left. Even before my Lord verbally alerted us, I had already felt what was coming.

I welcomed the challenge. I had no choice.

The Grim Lady · Nov 1, 2020

B U R N I T
D R E A D M O T H E R
DORIN, THE EYE OF THE STORM

Where the others had delved beneath the surface of the world in search of the peoples of this unspoken pact, there was one of the kind who had remained on the tumultous surface. Chains of crackling energy bound her hands to the sky, restraining her to one anchored position as she worked in ever-tireless conjuration. The threads of fate would not weave themselves this eve, nor was she of the mind to allow her people- her newfound home of sorts- to be interupted by those nagging hounds of the New Imperial Order. Through the fathomless storm she had gazed their coming; ships had made their descent. The Imperial Knights. Not an entirely unwelcome sight- the perfect waves to batter their new hull against.

Mauraders gathered upon their lady's flanks, poised with weapons held at the ready to defend her position should she come under attack, and even more so, to provide sacrifice to her ritualistic thirst should she had needed it. Guided by the bottomless swells of Darkness within her hollowed being, the storms only grew more and more hostile. Chaos rained down, splitting the terrain in twain where crimson lighting lashed the stone.

Ebony locks whipped violently around her sunken face, flowing with the churn of the wind and the tides of cloak wrapped in obscurity of her deficiency. Silvered orbs had long since overturned in her sockets, gazing into the abysmal depths of The Shackler who held her so deeply in its clutches. The wicked Force Entity which had devoured her and left her a mere husk willed to be by whim alone guided her hand, her twisted, venom-soaked words. She was no stranger to his wishes.

The first blow was hers to strike.

Those drop ships parting ways to return to orbit.

Forbidden.

There would be no escape.

That mere, willow branch on the horizon would serve as devastation enough. Sinead would will it to be so. Too long had the New Imperials forgotten the power of The Force. Forgotten the power of wrath. Of fury. Starvation. Ink spilled over from her stained lashes, weeping rivulets of corruption to trail tear down her wind stung cheeks. Exertion quivered her arms and spurred the rise of blackened veins beneath her pallid flesh. The lightning gathered, hissing in crackling coil against the wind. It hummed in the fragmented stones beneath her to resonate deep into the earth below. An arching warning of the summoned sorcery.

A banshee's wail ripped itself from her cracked throat, cutting through the clamorous soundscape with the efforts of her desire.

Crimson split the blackened clouds, striking in coordinated ballistae to pierce the retreating ships in an arching lattice of bleeding hatred, seeking to overcharge shields and splinter the hulls of those who would deny them their right to this world.

ALLIES |

FOES |

Naran Ambras · Nov 2, 2020

V A S S A L
DORIN, THE EYE OF THE STORM

None of them drew closer than necessary for fear of being pulled in by the Darkness that radiated from and of the woman they were charged to protect. They allowed her room to do what was required to win the day while they stood back, a myriad of weapons in hand, ready to strike down any that dared to get close.

When thoughts attempted to emerge, they were swallowed whole. Lost in a silent echo. There was nothing that he could hear except for the rolling roar of thunder, the buzzing of electricity, the wind howling its response. Somewhere distant and yet near was the hums of lightsabers. Even the one in his hand felt as though he was not the one holding it. Bloodshot eyes looked to the left to see the woman - the wraith - that he only knew as the Grim Lady. The stories within their ranks did her no justice. She was every ounce as terrifying and formidable as they all said. But, he knew better than those around him that Darkness has its retribution.

There was the possibility that she may slow and the effects of her sorcery weakened from fatigue. If that happened before they were able to secure the planet, their brief advantage could be for naught.

The spirit is strong, yet the body is weak.

Somehow, he found the strength to move his arm, wincing against the pain to sheathe his saber. His eyes locked on her as he willed himself to ease his body to walk closer, each step amplifying his own presence as he pulled on the Force. Silver orbs melted down to embers, skin crackled and grinded like glass against muscle and bone, and blood boiled and surged through his system as though it were lava.

He tried to breathe, pushing through the agony to reach her to place an ivory hand on her shoulder. The wind shredded exposed skin and caused the robe he wore to flap and billow behind him. He could not allow himself to succumb, even if his actions were anathema and blasphemy to the Lord he once served.

Someone had to do it.

Inon only spoke one word before the souls of the lost poured forth from him.

“Jani arsia.”
Prepare.

That was the only warning the Sith gave before he allowed himself to be exposed to an unforeseen force, his hand clenching in a vice around a small shoulder. A thousand souls stood on stand by within him, clawing at his soul in search of release, their eyes burning into her through him. He could hold out until he was needed, that was not the question. How long they would last while broadcasting their location, of that he was not certain. As the storms whirled and the skies cracked open with a light spectacle the color of blood, only a few words cut through the cacophony.

“Ar j'us shiyi adata, dosika ki.”
If you have need, use me.

ALLIES |

Kascalion Giedfield |

Darth Kizash |

The Grim Lady
FOES |

Rurik Fel |

Hans Rennagen |

Dorian Sicarrio |

Paz Koon · Nov 3, 2020

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER vs DREAD ASCENDANCY
S U P E R C O M M A N D O
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
'SERAPHIM'
T H E _ C R U S A D E

The very walls of these caved exuded the essence of discord both ancient and infant. Lambert could feel it just as clearly as he could see the walls themselves. Never had he felt anything so vast, so ancient. Even the Zeffo Ruins on Alashan didn't discharge such an antediluvian aura, and they were arguably leagues beyond these caves in foregone years. Perhaps it was a testament to the mystical prowess of the Baran Do.

The servos in Lambert's joints whirred faintly with every motion. He wriggled the rebreather over his face, squinting as it bulled at his hair and scrubbed against his skin. Even with the advent of the New Imperial's technological innovations; Lambert couldn't see shit. Dorin was a dark, and the caves were even darker. The gaseous atmosphere didn't do visibility any favors, either.

Taking the Knight Commander's actions as a cue, Lambert ignited his own saber. The pale plasma hissed forth, illuminating his surroundings with a tumbling albino luminance. The collective group of plasmatic torches provided adequate visibility. The undulating glitter followed the Knights as they marched deeper and deeper into the foreboding caverns.

Rurik Fel said:
<"They are close...they are hiding. Needn't sound the dread alarm, for we are the hunter. And we will make them the prey...">

"We will kill them where we find them. Their hubris tells them they can ambush us, but they are mistaken. We aren't in these caves with them; They're in these caves with us."

Hans Rennagen · Nov 3, 2020

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER vs DREAD ASCENDANCY
K N I G H T - E R R A N T
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER

Hans treaded lightly behind the Lord Executor, trying not to make a sound as the rocky ground crunched under his boots. It was an honour to even be in the presence of someone of Fel’s rank, even more so to be serving under him. Their mission right now had been everything Hans had trained towards: they were finally going to face the Sith. The mission dossier had made it clear that these were no Sith-Imperials, but something worse that was lurking in the darkness. Attacking the Baran-Do was an affront to the Kel-Dor people, and an extremely bold one at that.

Hans had not been well aware of the scholars before a few days ago, but what he had learned of them gave him the impression that they were incredibly important to the Kel-Dor. And of course, the Kel-Dor were important to the New Order. Anyone who’d heard of Dorin knew why. The Kel-Dor were respected engineers across the galaxy. Rebreathers, weather-resistant building materials, nav systems, and sensors had all been perfected on the planet. They were all vital for the survival of the planet’s people. Hans had even checked his own rebreather while studying the planet to find the words Made on Dorin etched in small font on the metal.

Now they were on the planet, and his rebreather was holding just as well as he imagined it would. They were off to a good start, and the glory was still waiting to be taken home, even if it would be hard fought. It was apparent the Sith had beat them here, and that there might not be a Baran-Do order left to save. He hoped and prayed it was not like that. There could be no balance in the force if maniacal orders like the Sith killed everyone in their way.

Hans had yet to ignite his saber, relying on Fel’s own weapon for light. With the darkness getting thicker, Hans followed a few of his fellow knights in lighting his saber. The white glow shining across his face hid how pale with fear he was. With every part of his training flashing rapidly before his eyes, he struggled to grab a hold of whatever pieces he could. Whatever might help him now as they descended further into darkness. There was a lot riding on this mission. His life, a full Knighthood, the fate of the Sith perhaps. It was a little overwhelming, but he reminded himself that being here was what he was meant for. He wanted this, and he would have to stay strong through it.

Lambert Vasari said:
"We will kill them where we find them. Their hubris tells them they can ambush us, but they are mistaken. We aren't in these caves with them; They're in these caves with us."

"That's bold Lambert. But maybe that's what they want us to think. It's all mind games with Sith right?"

Dorian Sicarrio · Nov 3, 2020

Kascalion Giedfield

The Grim Lady Inon Lambert Vasari

"Fuckin'- you guys should listen to yourselves sometime. You sound like me back when I was doing gladiator shit, but hopped up on spice and constipated. Nobody talks normal," he said, grunting with annoyance. He expected to hear insane stuff like that coming from Rurik, but the rest of the Knights should've been normal people. Not that Mavia was the most normal of talkers. Dorian didn't have the best bedside manner. He'd talk mad shit as much as the next guy, but he'd do it sounding better than some bad holofilm actor.

Still, the Knight nodded to his commander and ignited his own saber. They knew each other well enough at this point. As much as Dorian might snark and talk he wasn't one to abandon his duties. He'd followed this far; it'd be poor form to stop now. Even though the saber still felt unfamiliar in his hand, his grip was tight. There was much left to do.

Presumably starting with killing a few Sith.

Dorian followed the Lord Executor into the caves, taking up his right flank. For the first time -- ever, he thought -- he was thankful for the battle armor's helmet. Dorin's (he'd been trying to think of a good joke for a while but hadn't had any inspiration) atmosphere was toxic and these caves were dark, but the built-in oxygen supply and the myriad of scanners made it easy. Honestly the more he thought about it the more he realized how important helmets were. The head was the easiest target; at least on a humanoid. A testament to his hubris that he'd spent most of his career without one.

But today he wasn't there to show off. Duty called, and by some miracle Dorian had started answering. And so he followed, deeper into the caves, into that toxic darkness where their enemies laid in wait...

Right turn. Then left. Down the halls. Something, something, they were the hunters and the Sith were the prey.

Let's get this going.

Detritus Ren · Nov 4, 2020

Kascalion Giedfield

The Grim Lady Inon Lambert Vasari

Hans Rennagen

Lost within the darkness, Jin couldn't help a familiar sense of dread. The same dread that had plagued the young man since the day before coming to the world. In that span of time, in his sleep, he suffered nightmares, this time the same as before. Of the dark shadow of his father, and his fearsome Knights of Ren laying waste to enemies on a ruined world within the fury of a storm. Within that vision Jin himself appeared, and was called upon by what he only described as "Shadow Man" appeared, the shadow had a slight appearance of that of mist, with red eyes, only then illuminated by the brightening blade of crimson. Eagerly engaging Jin in a duel, and of which Jin himself thought to have gained the upper hand in the duel, beating down his opponent through his strength in Djem So, before casting the shadow man into oblivion. In that moment of triumph, the shadow reemerged behind his back, stabbing Jin, and in that last moment. That crucial moment before awakening, the shadow man's face revealed itself to be a corrupted Jin, smirking like a madman, his eyes not a fiery red, but a blazing yellow that etched it's very marked into Jin's memory as he screamed himself awake.

Since arriving, he had tried to meditate on the dream, trying to remember his disciplines, and duty to both the New Imperial Order, the Sovereign Imperator, and that o his fellow Imperial Knights. He was determined not to be consumed by the nightmare, to not fall into the likes of self-doubt, and to be seduced by the darkness. Now walking within that same very steps of darkness, he learned that when surrounded by those that carried the same goals and aspirations. That he himself would stand a chance against any and all that dare imposes the wrath of the Iron Sun.

Walking carefully along the darkened maze, a thought crossed his mind that perhaps if they all ignited Lightsabers, it be easier to see. It seemed that none was in favor except to follow their fearless leader. What he or some would call the man made of metal, it was unclear if anyone had seen his actual face. Yet one did not question his word was law, and so like loyal Knights they followed headfirst be it where the danger or action was. Jin didn't say anything, as he heard the whispers, some that he was able to comprehend was distrustful of the Imperial Knights, it seemed understandable to him. After all, how could one be sure that the Imperial Knights from an outsider's point of view was anything different from Jedi or Sith. Luckily for the Baron Do, they didn't need to trust the Knights or not. As long as the threat they sensed was taken care of. Everything would remain cordial as all things should.

As they ventured further, Jin felt it. Darkness, one similar to the nightmare, and upon that realization of how familiar it was. It horrified him, and yet he didn't let his face show it. He kept marching, as the presence increased. Whatever was down here, if it was Sith. He wondered if they could be survivors of Bastion, or worse yet a more terrifying breed of new Sith. History did show after all that the Sith were never truly gone if only weakened for a moment before striking back tenfold upon those that dare destroy it. One was a fool to underestimate them.

Despite how afraid he was, how the nightmare he had been haunted with for some time if it perhaps was an omen of things to come. Jin assured himself that he would not become a pawn of the Sith. That he was certain of as he moved with a determinant stride. The signatures in the Force getting stronger as the brothers in arms moved closer to the threat. He would live, fight and die as a Knight of the New Order

Rurik Fel · Nov 7, 2020

E X E C U T O R
KNIGHT OF THE EMPIRE

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Iron Skin | Lightsaber
V I N U M _ S A B B A T H I

Emotion is Discipline.
​
The Darkness wrought an insidious feeling of plague and foreboding the farther hey delved into these ancient caverns. He could feel the nigh entirety of this realm being shrouded in it. Each of the Knights either continued in vigilant silence or parroted the motive of their crusade. It was a sign of self assurance. A line of behavior Rurik once exhibited, but this was before he was lashed at by the darkness in earnest.

The very perpetrator of this malfeasance. The Devil himself.

The beaten fields of the Sith outpost in the high outer rim had served a trial of iron and blood in the first bout between these two, the both of them rendering the other into nigh death. That day, Rurik had been made the lesser, his body irreversibly marred by that battle. 

Good.

He was cast to the fires and his metal was tempered in the blistering heat. 

He was stronger now, his discipline sharpened to a rigid point. Rurik would put the Devil down low this day and be the better.

They continued into the depths, the searing darkness piercing the veil of Rurik's senses before soon enough. They were here, in the atrium of the Hidden Ones. The very chamber where this esoteric sec of the Baran Do communed at the nexus of their powers. The few that were spared the slaughter were all but hostage for their ancient apocryphon. 

That familiar, otherworldly presence struck him immediately, like a putrid smell or sight. The Sith'ari claimant. The Devil Lion.

<"Knights! To arms! Sow death unto these demons..."> The Lord Executor barked out in command, his eyes narrowing as his gaze honed in on Kascalion.

His permanent pain, inoculated. His senses, tempered to a precise lethality. With his argent blade in hand and a guarded fury in his heart, the man of iron lurched into the fray. Whatever dared assail him be damned. He would bleed this posturing 'god' like a stuck pig as the Knights with the stringent retinue of Baran Do at their flanks delved into the fires. Within their iron crusade.

To silence the dread.

Past the glasteel visor of the rebreather mounted over his metal visage, his determined gaze pierced forward to lock with Kascalion's, his argent blade moving to cut down toward the collar of the Devil as he sought immediately to snap any illusion of practiced concentration lest he dare invoke the same powers he had before unto him.

For he was Rurik Fel and he would have his vengeance.
​
ALLIES | IMPERIAL KNIGHTS | 

Dorian Sicarrio
| 

Detritus Ren
| 

Hans Rennagen
| Lambert Vasari
ENEMIES | DREAD ASCENDANCY | 

Kascalion Giedfield
| 

The Grim Lady
| Inon | 

Darth Kizash

Kascalion Giedfield · Nov 7, 2020

Caverns of the Hidden One
Armor | Lightsaber | Body
Theme: X
Rurik Fel |

Detritus Ren |

Dorian Sicarrio |

The Grim Lady | Inon |

The Autarch turned as a familiar tenor sounded out through the halls, hollow gaze locked onto the appearing figures of the Imperial Knights, as expected. Those attending the titan roared as they moved to engage the Knights in the halls, bloody crimson clashing against argent luster in a lightshow the Baran Do had likely never seen in their caves. Masterful movements, engagement on a multitude of levels from both sides, but it was not the entirety that the Autarch's gaze was set on for long.

Instead, it was the singular. The lone armored man charging towards the Devil, erupting with an energy that spoke to his soul of memory. A man. The one. The only one to survive the sundering of the spirit that was the Twilight, a power considered the most forbidden of the Skator Hai arts. Rurik Fel. The Executor. Through sheer resolve, he survived.

Not this time.

The Autarch beckoned the man's charge, waving towards himself in - perhaps - mockery at the man's rising essence of rage and an apparent desire to kill him before the battle can truly begin. The air split in half in their infinitesimal levels around the silver brand that traversed up and down like a toppling structure. A condensed, constrained beam of purified silver aimed for the collar bone of the Autarch. Aimed and intended to carve through the metallic plating, through his flesh and muscle and tissue and bone, and finally his organs before doing the same to the other side of his body. A sole strike of ending.

One that failed with a simple raising of the Devil's hand and an outward push of the Force, the blade suddenly held in place by the invisible power. Silver stars sparked outward from the blade stuck in stagnation, and the Autarch - after truly marveling the craftsmanship of an Imperial saber for the first time after the war they started began - turned his stare of red aegis to the masked man. Invocations of vengeance permeated his being to great levels, the dark sight behind the iron mask and rebreather boring a hole into the Devil's own.

The hatred between these two, visible even to the common Baran Do who scuttled back against the walls as the battle began, was not to such levels of the Imperator and the Autarch which spanned since the beginning of his rebellion. But it was enough. Enough to have the demon in skeletal form immediately feel the boiling of his power deep within.

"Do you know what awaits you after death, Rurik?" Kascalion grunted with an invisible smile as the pressure from the man's attack continues to press down, his free hand moving towards the handle of his own lightsaber. "There is nothing...just cold, primordial blackness of eternity. And you will soak in it by day's end."

The Autarch ignited his weapon as he swung it away from his belt and into the air, the blade slicing open the stonework he previously gawked at as it engaged itself on a path towards the Imperial's left shoulder. Simultaneously, Kascalion pushed forth more power to shut the iron-masked man's argent away from its trajectory.

The Grim Lady · Nov 9, 2020

B U R N I T
D R E A D M O T H E R
DORIN

The hand sent to grip fragile socket was met with malice dealt from her gaze as concentration was interrupted. He had earned ire. Pale features twisted around almost unnaturally upon her slender neck and at once, the glazed orbs she struck the world with rolled back down to view properly. The trickling black rivulets of strain continued their slimy ventures down her sunken cheeks and dripped from her chin- whisked away by the surging winds she conjured just as quickly. Yet, as he may have invoked her impatient fury, something more struck her then.

"Tave Naeblis Va buti is tave arita iv tik jiso Hadzuska."
The Dreadful King is in the company of only his Shadow.

The voice splintered her skull from within, pushing and prying at the edges of her consciousness. It was deep enough to charge her bones and send echoes of power rushing in hair-raising arcs across her ritualistically mangled flesh. The entity was warning her. Kascalion was to face a tide of surging plasma alone. Such would not do. She swayed, barely holding herself anchored in place as the winds kicked up, screeching eerie howl over the barren surface. Blinded, glowing eyes fixated upon Inon- glimpses of them barely seen through the whipping tide of black lashing around her features. "Tave Naeblis Va buti is tave arita iv tik jiso Hadzuska." She repeated the words her deity had uttered to her and looked beyond the Sith Lord towards the marauders protecting her glass frame.

"Nu valia nenx buti vaera mazo veek. Tegu mus akcij."
I will not be queen so soon. Let's move.

A shift planted a boot upon the ground before her and it was soon, the Dreadmother had mobilized once more. Shifting hands roved beneath her garb, seeking the electrum cylinder she rarely dealt judgment with. Tenuously, her fingers curled around the hilt, locking a firm grip around as she wandered towards the mouth of the tunnel in silence, with only the wind screaming of her coming. A sickening aura of dread swept as her escort, carrying with it an unmistakable tide of nausea; as if the sight of her alone was not enough to conjure up such unease. She stood in the opening, gazing into the darkness without a flare of pity or remorse in her eyes.

"Wo Zirgas kia eile Tave Dniya. Xauti Tave Dury."
One Knight to turn The Key. Find The Door.

Sinead heeded the mind-shattering voice once more as it welled within her skull, striking out with an eager tone. 'Tave Dniya buti Gelezis, niekas vel.' The Grim Lady answered the voice in her mind with a thought: The Door is Iron, nothing more. She was answered with the resounding laughter of eons. Under the cover of the darkness to The New Imperial's flanks, she moved in silence, drawing deeper and deeper into the tunnel until the sound of the clash was what stirred her from her waking dream. Silver burned in her eyes, reflecting the hollowed soul she bore. Another silken bind unraveled, casting her unnerving presence forward in the announcement that she had joined the engagement.

The slow hiss of plasma painted the flanking walls in blood.

Each word to follow cast another stone towards the glass walls of the unprepared, striking a heart-racing chord as the unease peaked in rising melody: "Tapti' uensutun, zirgas wo. Mrias sh'jatau nuyak asmenys."

ALLIES |

Kascalion Giedfield Inon
FOES |

Detritus Ren Lambert Vasari

Hans Rennagen · Nov 9, 2020

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER vs DREAD ASCENDANCY
K N I G H T - E R R A N T
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Allies:

Dorian Sicarrio Lambert Vasari

Detritus Ren
Enemies:

The Grim Lady
Engaging:

"Blessed are they who stand before The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just."

Hans gripped his saber tightly as they entered the room, so far beneath the surface. This was the most sacred of places to the Baran-Do, and now the Sith stood over their lifeless bodies. The few who survived seemed relieved when the Knights arrived, but their hope may have been misplaced. Only the coming battle would tell for sure what their fate would be.

The Lord Executor immediately charged for the largest Sith. As the Knights fanned out around the room, Hans picked his target: Tall, Human Male (presumably), two lightsabers. Hans shifted his weight onto his back foot and assumed a defensive Form II position. The room was too crowded for any kind of efficient acrobatics and Hans had little chance of disarming a dual-wielding opponent. He had been practicing combining the defensive dueling posture of Makashi with the group-oriented Praetoria Ishu. It was a standard maneuver for Imperial Knights in situations just like this. Even when every man has an opponent to duel it is important to watch a brother's back in the heat of combat. If Hans could successfully take on the Sith with two lightsabers, he could stop him from potentially striking two other knights.

Hans stared into the enemy's eyes and waited for his inevitable charge. The Sith was fueled with rage and hate, emotions that flail wildly like flames, and burn out like them too. Hans was fueled only by his duty. The need to repay his life debt to the Imperator. He had purpose besides indulging emotions, and that was the key difference that would lead to victory over these crimson cultists by these platinum knights.

Darth Kizash · Nov 12, 2020

Tags:

Dorian Sicarrio
Engaging:

Hans Rennagen

Crimson eyes inspected the young knight directly ahead. He seemed neither eager nor willing to make the first move. I might as well take my time then. From the corner of my vision I could already see my brothers and sisters engage. Still holding onto both lightsaber hilts I shrugged. Rotating my shoulders back, adjusting the loose baggy fabric that was my hooded cloak and let the bundle fall to the floor behind me. The whole movement caused the slightest of pain across my mid-section.

Stained apon the canvas of my flesh was the mark of wounds from long past. Their reach vast as dark black fissures seemed to creep across the cold wasteland of the epidermis. Overed in patches of grey dead like skin and flakes. Veins like webs connected from my bald scalp, across my broad scarred chest and down into the rest of my lower body. An area covered by baggy black trousers. I hated this vessel.

So very fragile.

Once again I could feel the pressure apon me. I lowered my head relaxing my neck and scowled briefly. With a simple click both blades shot from their respective hilts in a fury of ruby and bright orange. The hues quickly setting the room ablaze with new color. A ruby saber to my right lower side and orange to my left lower side I advanced forward blades etching against the floor. My chest puffed out toward the Knight, Hans Rennagen . My approach would appear slow, intimidating and brooding. A display of pure deception. Inertia itself etched forward past and behind the knight in a stretch. My brooding walk seemed slow to the eye but I may as well of been floating across the floor at a sprint.

My right blade prepared to lunge into the knights lower left abdomen.

" What are you doing?" I asked calmly in my approach before I struck.

Hans Rennagen · Nov 14, 2020

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER vs DREAD ASCENDANCY
K N I G H T - E R R A N T
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Allies:

Dorian Sicarrio Lambert Vasari

Detritus Ren
Enemies:

The Grim Lady
Engaging:

The inevitable charge of the Sith was unlike what he had expected. No roar of rage or emotion, just a menacing approach, slowly, cold and calculating. Before Hans could realize what was happening, the Sith Lord was in front of him. Hans shifted his shield up from his lower left side in a last ditch attempt to stop the lightning fast Sith. It's edge barely connected with the tip of the enemy's saber, just enough that Hans could knock it away from driving into his stomach.

Hans leaped back away from the Sith, then took a deep breath in. "We're here to stop you Sith! We can't allow you to do this!"

Hans shifted his weight forward and raised his shield in front of him to protect his torso. He lunged forward at the Sith, returning a similar move and thrusting his white blade towards the man's chest.

Darth Kizash · Nov 16, 2020

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