Dominion CIS | The Red War: Naalol

[Gerwald Lechner]

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WEARING: xxx
WEAPON: xxx
TAG: Meili Feng | Naedira Darcrath | Abel Denko | Teyla Sal-Soren | Vytal Noctura | Rann Thress | The Monster

Gerwald had always known she had made a choice, but so had he. The lupine had made the choice to follow orders, to be somewhere else because he had been told where to be. Duty. The word made him sick sometimes. Gerwald had not been on Eshan because of duty. He had not been there to help fight the Mountain because of duty. Once again duty demanded something of him which he did not want to do. If only there was a way to both stop the beast and bring Naedira back. Why was it that when it came to her he was always forced to choose between what he wanted and what he was obligated to do?​

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“Forgive me.” ​

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She wanted his forgiveness, but there was nothing to forgive. What wrong had she committed? What sin was so grave against the Lupine that her last words would be to make penance with the ring bearer? If anyone should be asking for forgiveness, it was Gerwald. He had failed her at every turn. Not only was she dead, but he had not even been strong enough to bring the man who killed her to justice. Instead he had allowed Darth Prazutis to manipulate his emotions, his love and grief. Gerwald Lechner had been broken by the Sith many times over before Srina Talon found his near lifeless form. Months had been spent simply rehabilitating and healing. Even more time had been spent getting stronger and learning to control what he felt.​

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Shock.​

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It was the one sensation which ruled his mind at the moment. The ring should have dissolved at his touch, and yet it did not. Gerwald was not an expert in alchemy by any means. His eyes darted about the scene before him as he gathered his composure. Naedira was still alive, and what he thought would be a single confession, a truth he needed to say before she was no more, would now live on as something else between them. What? Gerwald did not know. All he knew was that a truth spoken could never be pulled back.​

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The truth? He loved Naedira and would do anything to protect her. If the ring could not be destroyed then he had to face the beast, and get the ring away from the veil. Saving her, saving the others, would mean sending her back to the place of her torment. It would mean Gerwald would still bear the burden of her soul, and the nightmares which haunted his sleep.​

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Blue eyes, shifting, turning to some unnatural color of red and yellow, fell on the fox as she ran out of the cave. Gerwald was not far behind her. He looked over his shoulder just in time to see the beast crush Naedira under hoof. He ran further, watching as her body flew overhead and crashed into Rann Thress . Something was very wrong. Their bond had returned, so her pain was his. Gerwald screamed in agony as her reality washed over his mind. Pain... it meant she was physical in this plane. They were somewhere between the Nether and reality. It was the only explanation, but there was no time to ponder. There was no time for anything but action.​

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Boots planted in the ground as his mind pushed ahead to the fox. He would force his words into her mind giving her simple instruction.​

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<<"We have to stop this thing, and get the ring as far from this place as possible. If I die... you must do this for me...">>​

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Gerwald turned to face the beast. It's words began to echo in his mind.​

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<<You already know your sins, wolf. See what you have done to the woman you love. See, your failures.>>
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It took only a matter of seconds before the Nightmother conjured a spell, one which Gerwald was unsure about. Spirits and creatures of the deep were much more her specialty, but something about this thing seemed to defy every rule of law which had formed the universe. It existed, and yet it did not. The Monster charged ahead, like a madman. He was a madman. Both he and Vytal Noctura had chosen to face the beast, and for what? They could not be so foolish as to think they would kill it, could they?​

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Corrupt eyes tore themselves from the scene around him. Thoughts pressing into Naedira's mind. <<"Are you okay?">> It was a foolish. He already knew the answer. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he linked them once more. While a battle meld would likely do nothing to stop the beast, perhaps Gerwald could give Naedira enough strength to help them with what needed to be done.​

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His attention returned to the beast.​

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"What I have done? The only thing I see is what you have done, what your master has done. I have come to terms with my sins. I have accepted them, I have learned from them. What do you know of me that she has not shown you already? The Gerwald Lechner you know is the one of her memories, the wild wolf with unrestrained passions. That is not the wolf that stands before you now."​

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They had to push it back, and to do that it had to lose its balance. A smirk pulled at the lupine's lips as he pounded his palm against the ground. A wave of force energy was released, shatterpoint once more. The ground would begin to shake, and a fissure would open with the intent of swallowing the beast whole.​

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"Everyone push it back... we have to send it back where it came from."​

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It was here for Naedira. Quietly his thoughts floated back to her. He ran toward her, his eyes looked for hers hoping to lock onto them one more time. If she was physical he wanted to touch her, feel her embrace just once.​

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<<"We both know what you need to do. If the ring cannot be destroyed... ​

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...you have to go back...">>​

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Another tear fell from Gerwald's eyes at the thought, but right now it was the only way.​

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<<"Naedira, I promise I will find a way to free you from it... from your prison. I love you.">>​

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The lupine looked at Thress, a man he did not know save for his connection to Darth Metus and Damsy Callat .​

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"You need to run, get the others out of here now!"​

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Tag: Saint Azidalf Elde'gaud | Stardust Solus Skirae | Gerwald Lechner | Meili Feng | Rann Thress | Queen Bots™ | The Monster | Naedira Darcrath | Aela Wren | Mic Gallagher
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Vytal's hands whirled through the air as he spun strands of energy as a spider in their web. Despite Gerwald's disbelief, the Nightmother was not one to ceed ground to a spiritual entity lightly. There were those she could not take on alone to be sure, and a Witch should know when they were outmatched. That point had not yet been reached, especially while the foul thing was in her world. Where one picked their spiritual battles mattered greatly.​

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Clouds darkened and churned overhead before a bolt of lighting lanced toward and bent around toward the Beast and its cave.​

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"With respect," the Nightmother shot mentally toward Gerwald, "there are times to maintain the natural order, and times to break them. Are you certain this is not one of them?" Her lips peeled back as she fought to push the creature back through the crack in the Veil it passed through. And if they dared speak of 'deserving hell' or some equally nonsensical babble, Vytal would happily tear them apart verbally. People were too comfortable bisecting the world into Good or Evil. It was all gray. Not that the spirits in the Nether seemed to have gotten the memo, but that was why their souls hadn't rejoined the Source of Life. Creatures clinging to the vestigial remains of their identification or unfulfilled purpose.​

Template By: Darth Metus (Guy)​

 

[Meili Feng]

Tagging: Gerwald Lechner | Naedira Darcrath

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A bad feeling didn’t even begin to explain what was happening right now. A bad feeling is what you’d get when you were about to break a nail or walk into a wall. This was a catastrophe of epic proportions, like as to a deathstar warping into orbit, or an army of sith emerging from the mists. That was the only example she could think of that could describe the sheer overwhelming pressure that emanated from the creature that had emerged from the cave.

Flames licked at them as the ground beneath Mei’s feet shook, pebbles bouncing up off the ground as the creature closed with them. It was like a nightmare made flesh, something torn out of the deepest darkness of their subconcious. Every fibre of her being, every instinct that she had was screaming at her to flee to turn tail and run. It was only through the supreme application of will that she had stilled her limbs, a tremble travelling up her body.

There had been beasts at home, countless creatures that haunted the countryside but the petite woman had never seen anything like this before. There was something about the creature that approached them that just felt wrong. She’d never seen anything like this, felt anything like this before. Dark eyes blinked, unable to tear themselves away from the sight in front of her until the sound of the Sith’s desperate voice reached her ears.

The woman’s gaze fell on Gerwald, it almost sounded like…like he was planning to die here, to let the beast consume him. There was something about his tone, the set of his shoulders the way he faced his foe. She’d seen it before so many times, someone facing a foe that they knew that was far beyond their abilities to face. She’d seen it in the arena before, had seen opponents fall into that mindset.

Looking over at the monster she could see why but…she didn’t plan to die here herself. A deep breath and then another, falling back into the breathing pattern she’d learned as a child as she reached to her side, her spear extending as she stepped forward to stand next to the Sith, falling into a familiar fighting stance spear blade pointed at the monster.

“Well, let’s make sure that you don’t die so that you can take that ring back to your ghost over there. Unless you know, you don’t think you can kill that thing before I can.”

Maybe he’d die, maybe he wouldn’t but…she wouldn’t let her friend face this with defeat in his heart. Besides, if Gerwald died, who would she tease.

 

[Aspen Dray]

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TAG: Juli Moore

There was something, and while everyone left, they had to ensure if the fortress came under attack the others they were training needed to be ready in case they would have to defend it. Aspen was not a soldier. He was not even much a fighter. Sure, he had the force, his father and mother had both contributed to that reality as far as he was concerned. The Zeltron was untrained, unrefined. Perhaps he should be trained, but he did not see the need for it.​

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"Whatever it is... we need to make sure these are ready if it comes this way. First let's make sure we get civilians out of here."​

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His head darted over toward some of the private contractors which had been hired to work on the project. They would take the news better from Juli better than Aspen. She had a way with people that he did not. Even though he was a Zeltron, with natural empathy, Aspen was more direct in these situations that what he needed to be. What they did not need now was to incite panic. Juli would ensure that did not happen.​

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"You take care of them, and I will deal with getting these troops ready?"​

 

[Naedira Darcrath]

The Wilds
Direct Tag: Gerwald Lechner | Meili Feng | Rann Thress | Vytal Noctura | The Monster
Nearby: Mic Gallagher | Abel Denko | Teyla Sal-Soren | Aela Wren | Pravus Cruento | Stardust Solus Skirae | Saint Azidalf Elde'gaud
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What to forgive?

She had given up. The former Knight Obsidian didn’t have words to describe the feeling that echoed in the Force when the Mountain approached. His presence eclipsed anything she had ever known. It wasn’t the same emotion that the Vicelord evoked. She had seen his might. She had seen him react with fierce decision and wrath but his efforts had always been to preserve his people. Equally terrifying and equally protective—It didn’t fill her with dread. Darth Metus, even in his darkest hours, his darkest moments, provided a sense of hope.

The Mountain offered only death, an event horizon, that gave way only to suffering.

Her wonderment over the survival of the ring was quickly doused as the Devourer made itself known. It was cruel. The tone made her stomach turn and blood curdle. While it seemed to dote on her it was only because it loved carving pieces of her being, of her mind, and swallowing it whole. She refused to give it the satisfaction. Refused to go down without fighting. If the beast wanted to consume her?

She would ensure that it choked.

When the Noćna Mora tired of crushing her bones, she tensed. She didn’t know how she knew, but, she knew it would never let her stand before it. Naedira had spent so long floating through the nether without a true form that she didn’t know how to react. Pain. Sensation, it was paralyzing. The wind along her skin was agonizing. When she crashed into something new she tried to ball herself up but her body wouldn’t respond. She could feel arms wrapped around her but couldn’t move.

How did she breathe? How could she move?

“I—S-Sorry”, she trailed off, stammering, while wheezing through ribs that had been crushed. “Nn—”

It was all garbled. None of this was normal to her. Not anymore. Stick thin arms pressed down against his ( Rann Thress ) chest while she tried to move, tried to get up, but her muscles wouldn’t obey. They were weak. As if made of rubber bands. “I-I’m—”

“I’m d-dead. I’m d-dead…”, she whispered over and over while realspace settled in. Air. Gravity. Her mind was mostly intact. That she didn’t have trouble with. It was everything else. Her hand moved while the Devourer made its threats toward the others. Panic was rising, though, she tried to control it. She could feel power from some the individuals present. Strength.

They would need it.

Eventually, Naedira adjusted enough to sit up, partially, though her bony limbs might not have felt very nice to the soul that broke her fall. Her head hung long and rivers of lifeless auburn hair fell around them in lengthy waves. The shaking hand reached carefully for his cheek. She couldn’t get her mouth to form the words she wanted but she could sense the Force far more acutely. When her hand made contact with skin a soft whisper would explain, carefully, what she knew. <<I was a Knight Obsidian. I lived… I died…>>, she murmured, and flashes of the battle above Taanab, against the Mandalorians, would flare for him.

<<He killed me. I had to die, to protect them. He locked me away…With that. I am Naedira. It devours. It is the Devourer. The Noćna Mora. Powerful. Unbeatable…almost unkillable…It should not be here. Something about the cave…It shouldn’t be here. We shouldn’t be here.>>

Almost. Not, quite. She had seen them fight with one another. She had seen them die in the nether. When her hand fell from the man, she felt her form sag again. The voice of Gerwald flowed within and the young woman couldn’t help but close her eyes for a moment as memory stirred. His question was simple, but, to a walking it corpse it scarcely computed. Was she all right?

<<No. No—This isn’t natural.>>

Anytime something like this occurred; It was a disaster. A wound. A breaking in the Force that scarred the locale with irreparable damage. It might not have been physical, but, the force-sensitives would feel it. The land would know it. All because this monster felt the need to carve itself into the waking world.

She wanted them all to run. Her eyes stung and the reaction caught her by surprise.

Ghosts didn’t cry.

Whatever she had become, even temporarily? Did. It wept, it hurt, and it breathed.

A shadow darted overhead ( The Monster ) and Naedira felt her stomach bottom out. A subtle sense of strength began to move through her. Her aches were less. Her body didn’t feel quite so heavy. Not so dead. It took her a moment to realize that Gerwald was reaching out to support her. Her gaze drew up while she shifted to the side so the dark-haired man could get up. While he was on the ground, with her, he was a sitting duck. Her eyes caught that of the wolf as the ground shook so hard that her teeth chattered in her head. Words flowed between them while the pale witch ( Vytal Noctura ) seemed to be casting a spell.

<<Don’t promise me that. Don’t say that. Promise me, that you will lock us away. Keep them safe.>>

Naedira scooted back on her haunches to avoid a fissure in the ground, clumsy still, while swallowing hard. She could feel the Force. She could feel something other than metaphysical anguish. Raising a hand before her face she focused on it. Something flickered.

Something bright.

Fire.

 

[Queen Bots™]

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Direct Tag: Gerwald Lechner | Meili Feng | Rann Thress | Vytal Noctura | The Monster
Noćna Mora [The Wilds]
[ - X - ]
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The ground shook as a laugh rolled through the ether once more. These creatures. So small. They sought to dispel all that it was with toys. Little pieces of metal that pricked against its hide like pebbles against an impenetrable wall. The small man in the suit of metal and wires ( The Monster ) seemed to be the first willing to give of himself to the greater whole. It pulled its focus from the dark-haired female ( Meili Feng ) on the ground and instead focused on the loud one. The gaping maw that seemed filled with embers opened with a grinding crack. From within—It inhaled.

The lava-lines that ran along its rock-like epidermis seemed to fade for a moment before brightening. When it exhaled in the direction of the soldier it was a hail of super-concentrated heat and flame. Beyond that, there was something else, a darkness that slipped forward in sinister shadows. It turned the grass gray and dark before the fire even came close. It would have kept the assault ongoing were it not the words of the pale one.

Witch.​

If it deigned to acknowledge her existence it was only out of baleful spite. The winged beast couldn’t know what the Nightsister had planned but it knew the shade of electric jade she wore so well in the ether. The Noćna had devoured many of her kind in the endless, screaming, darkness of the realm from whence it had broken free. <You command nothing. You are a youngling with a forked tongue. Made of flesh; of bone. Your life and unlife sustains me…>, it trailed off, gaze flickering, between the bodies present. They all seemed to be in varying states of defiance. It grinned. Or, a grimacing smirk that passed for one. <…In perpetuity.>

The calls she made into the nothing seemed to bestow some sort of power. While it turned to advance it suddenly found one thick ankle (cankle) ensnared by something. It tried to wrench forward but it only seemed to tighten with contact. The form of the Devourer seemed to shift and blur. Features that were once distinct became clouded. Through its mighty mass, they would hear the distant sound of glass screaming through the air. A hurricane on the rise—Before it solidified a few feet forward. The scent of ozone carried with it while it glanced back to sneer at the earthen restraints it was temporarily free of.

<Is this the best you have to offer?>

Inky black orbs turned back toward Naedira. Her newly made form, physical, opened up so many new opportunities that they had thusly been denied. She was still collapsed atop a near-human with dark hair sprouting like a weed from its skull. Was the dear one so weak? Had they brought her mind to the brink and back already? The minor distraction with its prey caused the horned beast to take its gaze from one who would call upon filth and spirit to see her will done. Lightning that it had long ago learned to expect ran through the air. Bright.

It struck the beast in the chest and it grunted.

There was something different about it. Not the same as what hailed from the dark skies of its kingdom. At first, the Devourer bore the attack. It stood tall and refused to bend until a slow and keening roar built up from somewhere in the bowels of evil. It shook the ground while its epidermis charred and it’s full wingspan reached out to burn away the tree limbs and foliage nearest to it. It would not succumb to such archaic witchery. The Master had taught the Noćna to endure. To fight—To win. It charged forward as it broke free, surprisingly quickly, and a coarse appendage wrapped around the body of its initial target. <You’ve disappointed them all Meili Feng…Each, and everyone. Too soft. Too weak. Such fear…>

It paused and took a deep breath. Inhaling the scent of her hair…Her memory of being raised in a place that didn’t value those with connections to the metaphysical. <No…Not a drop of power in you.>

<Or is there?>

Just beneath the surface, it could feel what she did not wish to be found. Untrained, wild. Not at all like its little Naedira. She was so in control that it had taken months, years, in the nether to peel through her mind. It started to chuckle again. Its chest plate was damaged but it would be much more difficult to injure it while the Devourer held a hostage. <Do they know your secret?>

<Do you?>

It unraveled her fears the way a feline cub toyed with a ball of string. Just a little at a time. The horned creature savored the moment, waiting, watching, the rest of the group while it began to squeeze the dark-haired female tighter. Despite the threat of its poison-soaked claws digging into pallid flesh, she remained silent. No response.

So be it.

It would squeeze the truth from her.

 

[Meili Feng]

Tagging: Gerwald Lechner | Naedira Darcrath | Vytal Noctura | Rann Thress | The Monster

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There was a stillness that fell over you in the middle of a fight, a kind of calm that you couldn’t find anywhere else. The world boiled down to you and your opponent, nothing else mattered, nothing else existed. There was a freedom there, all your worries and cares just falling away behind you. It was in these moments before a fight began that Mei felt the most alive, smells stronger, the feeling of the air on her skin that much sharper.

The woman knew it was all in her mind, that rush of adrenaline, that anticipation of what was to come.

She’d fought opponents great and small before, fought all sorts of aliens in the ring and out of it. Across battlefields scattered through space and planets, she’d never heard of the woman had faced and defeated opponents that she’d had never thought she could. As she’d taken her ready stance she’d been confident that whatever this creature was it would fall into the same category.

Confident.

That had been a laugh. She’d been so sure she was a match for anything she might face. Since she’d left home Meili had met very few beings who moved as fast as she did, who were combatants she thought could beat her, could match her. She’d grown confident, arrogant, everything her trainers had warned her about.

If only she’d listened to them then.

The solid weight of her spear in her hands had always been a source of comfort to the woman, a feeling of security. She’d trained constantly to master the weapon in all its forms, was sure she could match it against any weapon she might face. Any opponent who might challenge her.

She was wrong.

When the monster moved it was like a shadow, like the wind, it’s movements smoother than they had any right to be. Faster than they had any right to be. As she’s seen it tense, start to move Meili had twisted, the spear in her hand striking out in a thrust that carried the weight of her body behind it, her movement adding some speed to the strike. A strike that the monster seemed to flow around like water. One minute she’d bee staring at this massive nightmare, her blade about to strike and sink into it’s flesh. The next it was gone, leaving her staring at only empty space.

It took Mei only seconds to recover, to seek and find her target. Precious seconds she no longer had. While she had executed what had looked like a picture perfect attack the monster had somehow avoided her, was standing right next to her. The petite woman barely had a chance to respond, to react before she was pulled off her feet, the monster’s iron-hard skin wrapping around her, driving the air from her lungs in a pained gasp as it threatened to crush her.

Her spear slipped from nerveless fingers, clattering against the group as she kicked ineffectually at the air beneath her. Dark eyes flicked around, desperately looking for an escape, for a way out before inevitably being drawn back to the fiery eyes of the creature holding her, squeezing her like she was nothing more than a doll. The truth was she felt like she was nothing more than a rag-doll at the moment, shaken and squeezed by the creature as if she was nothing more than a plaything for it. Which wasn’t too far from the truth, the dark-haired warrior had never met someone, something that had the monster’s sheer overwhelming physical ability.

She’d never felt this helpless before.

It was like a nightmare, she’d always been physical, able to move and fight. Yet now she could do neither, was held powerless to even struggle in the creature’s grasp. Eyes wide with horror as it lifted her towards it’s face.

In her heart of hearts, that little dream buried at the very back of her mind Meili had always thought that she would be a hero. That she could leave home and make her way into the galaxy, right a great wrong, find that honour, that adventure she was missing. That the galaxy would accept her as one of the greats. She was about to be eaten, to be just another fatality.

The truth was so much worse.

As the creature drew her upto it’s face it didn’t even try to eat her, all it did was breathe even as it’s own scent overwhelmed her. The smell of fire…and family, of her father and mother, the scents she associated with home. She could hear the creature’s voice in her mind, a harsh taunting voice accusing her of hiding a secret. There was something else though, just beyond the creature, faint and familiar, whispers voices on the wind. The woman strained, to hear it, those familiar tones of her father and mother, friends and family. For a moment she could start to make out the voices, that sense of security she’d always associated with family.

For the moment before she could make out the words.

“Monster!”

“Abomination!”

“One of us.”

“No daughter of mine.”​

She could still feel the weight pressing in on her, but Mei was no longer in the forest outside the cave. She was standing outside her family home, chest adorned with medals and awards, a hero in every sense of the word. Every sense but one. A frail old man guarded the door, his arms baring her entry, her father’s eyes filled with disgust. “Leave, no abomination is a child of mine.”

It was a moment drawn from the deepest of her nightmares, from the horror that haunted her at night. The death of dreams, of her hopes, the single imagined moment that crushed her again and again. But this wasn’t a dream, she could feel the sun on her face, feel the grass beneath her feet, feel the heat from the slap her father had delivered when she tried to embrace him. A nightmare made real.

The woman had grown up in a world where every emotion was guarded, where she’d learned at a young age to wear a mask. Yet, what mask could hide the anguish of a life destroyed, dreams shattered?

The vision faded leaving her staring at the creature’s face, tears running down her face as she felt it’s grip tighten around her. For a moment Mei wasn’t sure if this was a dream or reality, all she knew was pain, an anguish she just wanted to end. She opened her mouth and closed it, not even willing to utter the words, the nightmare she held in her soul as she felt that grip tighten.

The Zanshi were tough, tougher than they had any right to be for their size, but beneath that grip even their legendary toughness wasn’t enough. The petite woman could feel her body screaming in protest, bones grinding and cracking. She could feel the points of the creature’s claws pressing into her flesh, dimpling her skin as hung helpless in it’s grasp.

Helpless to do anything but scream, a raw primal sound, wordless but filled with emotion, with anguish and pain.

Please. Please just make it stop.​

 

[The Monster]

Equipment: RA2-Series Power Armor - (U/A/S), TDW-HARM, L-7
Tags: Rann Thress Gerwald Lechner Meili Feng Naedira Darcrath Vytal Noctura
Theme: Do or die, all or nothing
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Sergei had pressed the attack. He charged forward to buy time for the others. To give them a chance to work whatever tricks, magic or straight up wizard stuff to try and put this thing down. He watched as his rounds straight up did nothing to the big thing, but he certainly got its attention. As it turned and opened its maw, Sergei barely had enough time to dodge, his suit's systems recording and registering the intake of air and surge of heat through its body. The way its chest lit up as it breathed out and Sergei tried to step to the side to get out of the way.

But he wasn't expecting a blast that big.

The molten-esque jet of flame, heat and otherworldly magic picked the mercenary up off the ground and straight up tossed him through the air. His shields would flash as they tried to soak up the energy, and failed halfway through him being flung like a toy. When he finally hit the ground, he groaned as he felt internal damage from being slammed with such force. His mind was spinning from the massive blast of heat and being thrown into the ground. His suit's VR system was a cascade of red as multiple systems were damaged, including the CMAS itself reducing it's overall strength. Not good Sergei thought. But that wasn't the worst, Sergei's cameras had been fried by the blast, leaving him blind inside the suit. He did a once over to see what was working, and reached up with a gauntleted hand, and ripped off his face shield. Burning air and something else that Sergei couldn't quite place surrounded him. He could see the scorch marks on the ground around him, but that didn't have his attention. It was that very much outside of those marks everything had died around him. Like the blast had sucked the life essence of everything out of the surrounding flora. He couldn't help but shiver at the fact that if his armor wasn't specifically made to protect against such types of attacks, Sergei would have died. But that protection was gone. He looked down in his hands at the remains of his rifle. The flames had literally melted all but the Phrik components of the weapon, and Sergei really wished he'd brought his sword with him. He heard a brief sputter from his barely working comms.

"Almost there…. 5 minutes…." His comms would sputter and then finally fail.

They didn't have five minutes. At this rate Sergei didn't know if they had thirty seconds. He would hear his shields power back on, and he closed his left fist to force it into a more concentrated and directed mode. It would be almost like a round shield of old, focused on his left forearm. He needed something to hit it with, and bullets seemed to be ineffective. He considered punching the thing when he saw Rann still there with that woman, his lightsabers more or less just laying on the ground. He didn't have time for formalities, or much really. His force dead armor was breached revealing all that was Sergei to anyone who was force sensitive. His emotions ran rampant. Fear was definitely something running through his mind, something every soldier felt. Sergei was most definitely scared. But the words of his drill instructor would reverberate through his mind as they always did.

Brave soldiers were not fearless. As courage was the act of doing despite being afraid. That meant ensuring one's will was always stronger. Even if you had to reinforce your will with rage.

And right now, Sergei was most certainly angry.

He would raise his right arm and fire the built in grapple hook at one of Rann's sabers; reeling it in quickly before opening his hand to catch the weapon. He had to look at it for a second before finding the on button, pressing it firmly as the saber hissed as it revealed its yellow blade. Satisfied Sergei released the button so that he wouldn't stab himself with the blasted thing, no point in having the laser sword if he killed himself with it. Sergei would charge back at the beastie now armed with something that could prove to be a proper weapon. His will was hardened like mandalorian beskar. The scream of the woman that had accompanied Gerwald got his attention, and he had no choice. He began to run at the living nightmare. At this point his focus was on one thing. He had a mission. He had an objective.

No one would die today. Not while he still drew breath.

He held the laser sword inert in his hand as he started running. His arms were driving as the suit picked up on his wants and activated the remaining thrusters to boost his run. He would rocket forward as he closed the gap between them rather quickly. His body would tense as all of his muscles activated in preparation for a massive punch. Using the entirety of his strength and that remaining in the suit, Sergei cocked his arm back as he prepared to strike the demon's leg. And normally such a blow would smash through durasteel, so Sergei hoped that he would at least hurt the thing enough to get it to let go of her, if not seriously injure it. As his fist came back, Sergei breathed in seemingly slow and calm, focusing on the strike. He had a plan which involved the lightsaber but that was even riskier than what he was attempting now. Especially since his own armor was now offering much more minimal protection, if none at all.

 

[Darth Metus]

B Y O O​

Hunt.

On paper, the mission of the Sith and his mate was completely justified. Naalol, a world subject to the anarchy of the Alliance's fall, had found itself home to a rather sordid creature. It was not a monstrosity of the Force or an aberration of nature. But it was a monstrosity all the same. A man with a craving for blood, so pronounced that he left a trail of bodies wherever he stepped. The killer was a threat that brought terror to the dreams of many. A threat that would not be allowed to take root in the Southern Systems.

Yet, as opposed to sending the personifications of Confederate justice, Isley Verd saw fit to personally descend upon Naalol alongside Selene. The primordial woman, in her prime, could very well have eclipsed the entire world - and thus put an end to the threat immediately. However, sacrifices had been made out of sheer devotion to her partner. Sacrifices that had seen her cosmic powers diminished. With each day, and each meal, her might slowly returned.

The day's mission, in the mind of Isley, was rehabilitation.

He would see Selene restored to her full might. See her ravenous appetite satiated. Only then would the morrow she so desired come to fruition. Only then would the alignment be complete.

Being that the Sith was no stranger to the Hunt, he knelt before the earth as Selene had her meal. The darkness ebbed from her presence, snatching the life of nature before his eyes. Beautiful. From behind his visor, his lips curved into the beginnings of a smile. His focus returned when she spoke - the target was not far off. She moved, dancing from shadow to shadow. Displaying that, even in this state, she far surpassed the overwhelming majority of the Galaxy in her skill. As Darth Metus, his talents were of a far different sort. The sort that would turn the imminent death of their target into something far more.

"Spare his blood for me, and I shall fashion you a crown." his words were alive with that trademark snark - but in this there was truth. Death would become something far greater. In this, he was an artist, and the demise would be his canvas. She was better than their prey in hunting, he was better than their prey in making art.

The Hunt was on.

Darth Elyria​

 

[Rann Thress]

F E A R​

Tags: Gerwald Lechner Meili Feng Naedira Darcrath Vytal Noctura The Monster Queen Bots™​

​

“I...I...” Rann struggled to speak, panic raising within him.​

​

“I....” Flashes back to Ryloth, the dead surrounding him. The dread. Sadness. Agony. Fading away to wholly new environments. The unmistakable sight of Mandalorians. A planet he’d never seen before. A new battlefield, explosions, distant screams. More death. Like shadows they crept from this woman, this...phantom. And they surrounded Rann. The light from the outside of the cave seemed to entirely fade away as Rann scurried back against a cave wall, fingers cradling his head while he shook.​

​

“I...” the power to speak seemed more elusive than the strongest force ability to Rann as tears began to form in his squeezed shut eyes.​

​

Phantom pain shot through his robotic right arm. More screams, more death filled his eyes and ears. Try as he might to shut them out, he couldn’t.​

​

“You....dead. I...” he strained. He reached out for his Lightsabers, some form of comfort, yet they were gone. Too far from his hands, if they were there at all. His breathing became erratic, and his mind became overshadowed with frantic, panicked thoughts.​

Where are my sabers? Why is she dead? Why is she here? I’m going to die. I can’t be here. I’m not safe. I’m so scared.​

All grip on reality began to fade from Rann.​

​

I will save you. I will save us. The door is weak now, Rann. Open it. Let me free. I can save us.​

N-no I... ​

Im coming out. Today is the day the door finally fails. Today is the day what that witch, Nimue did fails. I am coming. One way of the other. You can let me out. And I can save us. Or you can wait here, cowering. I can break through the door anyway and take control. The choice is yours. But I advise you to make it quickly.​

​

Rage began flooding into Ranns mind. Anger, frustrations.​

“Dead girl. What’s dead. S...stays dead.” Rann pulled his hands away from his eyes. A pained expression covered his face as his eyes began losing their vibrant Blue. “I... I’m sorry.”​

His mind went to all of his friends and loved ones. The people who got him here, who got him help. He knew he was letting them down. The pain was too great, the hurt, too strong.​

​

The tears flowed freely down Rann’s cheeks now. ​

The door is weak. Let me in.​

a silence. The screams finally stopped, the pain went away. A still quiet. Peace, at last.​

Okay.​

​

The blue of Rann’s eyes faded away. More than just yellow replaced them. Red around the irises, and pure hatred emanated out from them.​

​

His face stilled and he blinked a few times. He stood from the corner and wiped his face free from the tears.​

​

He stared down at Naedira Darcrath and calmly raised his hand, summoning his Lightsaber to it. ​

pshhoooow ​

Green explored from the emitter of his saber. And he looked at it for a brief second before returning his gaze to Naedira.​

​

“If I thought for even a second that removing your head from your shoulders would do anything I’d do it. You’re a failure, and you’re dead. And you can affect nothing outside this damn cave, so you’re not worth the very very small movement it would take to move my Arm. When I deal with your warden. You will return to your worthless existence in hell.”​

He turned his gaze away from the woman and down towards where the beast, the Nocna Mora, was. He felt for his other lightsaber. It was down there in the hands of the giant fool.​

Right. he thought with a sneer. Of course it is.​

He began walking down the cave, determination in his yellow-red eyes.​

As he walked, a smile crept across his lips. The door was opened and he was freed. But the door still worked. And it was quickly closed again. With a new occupant inside.​

​

What are you...-​

Theres room for one in the drivers seat. Your friends had a good idea. There should be a door. And you should be behind it.​

he smiled wider and continued, casually increasing his pace until he was sprinting towards the creature. ​

If that woman was still there when he returned with the beasts head, he’d have to thank her before he tried to kill her again. If she wasn’t there, he’d be behind the door. ​

But still, that was discomforting. So she’d get a thank you paired with a lazy swipe of his blade.​

​

Oh, so many things to look forward to. So many things to do. And all the time in the world to do it.​

​

As he approached the beast he began to slow. He’d wait for his moment to attack, wait for the weakness he could sense in the room to die or make their move first. He didn’t want any type of inferiority getting in the way.​

​

And Gerwald Lechner reeked of it.​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

​

WEARING: xxx
WEAPON: xxx
TAG: Meili Feng | Naedira Darcrath | Abel Denko | Teyla Sal-Soren | Vytal Noctura | Rann Thress | The Monster

​

It wasn't natural. Gerwald could agree with that as Naedira's voice pressed against his mind as though she had never been dead. All he could think was that he should not be able to feel her, sense her, know her, the way he did now. Those thoughts gave way to feelings that Gerwald had to force himself to wrestle with so that he could do what needed to be done.​

​

He was happy, happy that once again he could feel the connection he had once shared with the woman.​

​

He was guilty for feeling happy. Why should he have this joy when he knew it was selfish. Gerwald was happy for himself even though he knew it was temporary. Unless he could figure out a way to keep his promise, Naedira would slip back into the Nether, and whatever it was this beast was doing to her, it would start all over. How could he be happy when she was not free, so Gerwald felt guilty.​

​

Her voice pressed into his mind once more...​

​

<<Don’t promise me that. Don’t say that. Promise me, that you will lock us away. Keep them safe.>> ​

​

He nodded. Gerwald was not sure how to answer her right away. Why couldn't he do both? Why could he not promise that even if he sent her back, he would find a way for her to be free?​

​

Gerwald hurt. Naedira would feel his conflict through their bond if she looked for it, but she would know his resolve. She would know that even though it pained him, he would do what needed to be done. He was no longer the wild wolf which was driven by his passion and his feelings. He would put the others first, the Confederacy First, yet if the opportunity came for him to gain what he wanted without putting others in danger, Gerwald would take it.​

​

He would do it for her.​

​

He would do it for him.​

​

<<"I will do what needs to be done. You know this.">>​

​

She had to know.​

​

Everything happened in several moments and quickly. Vytal Noctura 's attack failed. The beast phased right through it. The Monster chased after the beast with a lightsaber, one it seemed he did not know how to use. Gerwald admired the stupid courage which the soldier put on display. There needed to be more soldiers like him, but Gerwald also knew the futility of one shot made by one person for a supernatural beast. The dark ones had taught Gerwald much.​

​

Gerwald's world seemed to stop. His partner in this mission, his friend, Meili Feng , was snatched by the beast. She had decided to attack the beast, to prove a point. The wolf had determined if anyone would die, it would be him, but once again the fox threw herself in front of an attack which had been meant for Gerwald. Yes, he had run, yes he had attempted to collapse the ground beneath the monster's cloven feet in an effort to knock it back. Whatever they were doing seemed to fail.​

​

Meili's scream pulled him back to reality. It was guttural, raw, painful. Gerwald could feel it deep in the core of himself. Was this what Naedira had been experiencing? Now his friend, a new friend, was experiencing the same. He had failed again, or would fail again. If they could not free Meili, and send the monster back to the nether, then all of them would die. There was no need for any more death.​

​

"LET HER GO!!!" Gerwald shouted at the beast at the top of his lungs.​

​

It was at that moment the wolf could feel the heat from behind him. Naedira was fighting back, fire with fire. He would add his own attack. The force would ripple through his palm once more as Gerwald smashed the ground again. He would widen the gap in the ground while trying to figure out a way to get the beast to drop Meili.​

​

Then suddenly he had an idea.​

​

"TAKE ME INSTEAD!!!"​

 

[Naedira Darcrath]

The Wilds
Direct Tag: Gerwald Lechner | Meili Feng | Rann Thress | Vytal Noctura | Sergei "Jack" Jachovich
Nearby: Mic Gallagher | Abel Denko | Teyla Sal-Soren [/USER] | Aela Wren | Pravus Cruento | Stardust Solus Skirae | [@Saint Azidalf Elde'gaud
_____________________________​

Amusement.

That was the dominant emotion that radiated through her psyche was simply that. Amusement. It rumbled deep within her chest, pulling, taunting, to a point where she almost felt the edges of her lips curving upward. Only, she was not amused. Naedira found nothing humorous about any of this. She was worried for the people she had given everything to protect. Perhaps, not all of these individuals specifically—But men and women just like them. Knights of the Confederacy.

Citizens of Independent Systems.

She couldn’t remember their faces anymore. But, the Devourer would never let her forget the reason for her imprisonment. At this moment it also didn’t hide that which was most foul. Amusement. The winged-beast found all of this very pleasurable. To pollute fresh air. To rain terror down on unsuspecting victims. She shook her head while the man that had caught her was shaking in terror. He could barely form words with hands reaching for things that weren’t there. Weapons, perhaps.

Naedira didn’t bother. No lightsaber forged would save any of them from the Noćna Mora.

She did tense however when something in the man ( Rann Thress ) responded to the gravity of the situation. The Beast was already there. Already in his head, whispering. The former Knight could feel her lips press into a thin line.

“Dead girl. What’s dead. S...stays dead.”

Yes. She was dead. The visions that she had left him with would have imparted that knowledge. It was the apology felt out of place. He wept. Naedira found herself wanting to bring him some sort of comfort but what good were words with a behemoth bearing down on them? What would she say? That it would be all right? Hardly. She was dead. Not all right.

It would never be all right.

All at once the weeping man seemed…Changed.

It was not a change in demeanor. It was not simply the words, though harsh, nor was it the newly acquired shade of yellow eyes that sang of Sith Corruption. It was the lack of empathy. The lack of what some near-humans might refer to as a soul. It was the eruption of hate. Uncontrolled, billowing, and palatable. It was strong enough that she could feel it.

Even departed - She could feel his vitriol.

Her hand settled down and the sparks that had begun to wrap around slender digits faded. His voice was different and her jaw set tight. Was this realization new? Naedira had given her life long ago—She didn’t seek to preserve it now. Her mouth began to try and form words but again she seemed stunted. She had spent too long without any form at all. She didn’t know how it worked anymore. Everything felt so heavy. Gravity, felt like a weight in the air she could actually see. <If I thought it would help, I would have already done it myself. I am dead, by design, because I succeeded.>

She hadn’t failed. Her plan had gone off without a hitch. Only, a little too well.

Could he kill her twice? Would he send her back to the nether? Or—Was he strong enough to let her fade away? Naedira didn’t know. Gerwald had tried to do away with the ring, her tether, and it hadn’t affected the object in the slightest.

<Your weapon won’t work.>

Whatever he ( Rann Thress ) had become, the Devourer, was worse. She would rather this human-shaped monster travel the waking world over the creature that kept her bound. She could feel it calling. Demanding with an invisible pull that she return to it. She refused, for now. Held her ground away from it. She would wait for her moment. Wait. There had to be some sort of meaning to all this.

Some reason she had form.

Gerwald knew. He knew something was off. Naedira tensed while a man got caught in the after-burn of the Devourer’s roar. <Move!>, she called (to @Sergegei “Jack” Jachovich) and hoped that he could hear. Hoped that he would be able to get away. It seemed that he had. Barely. Dull chestnut orbs followed while the soldier shot a ranged weapon to pick up one of the discarded lightsabers. The small woman shook her head. She could feel his fear. So, would the Noćna Mora.

He was spared because its focus shifted. Naedira winced when it picked up Meili Feng .

While it taunted her.

She felt paralyzed. Not just because she couldn’t remember how to walk, but because of the memories it stirred. Cries of pain. Naedira felt helpless.

For all intents and purposes, she was.

Gerwald reaching through the long-dormant Force Bond felt as if she was suddenly coming up for air. She was drowning in what the Devourer exuded. Suffocating. He let her breathe. He swore that he would do what needed to be done, however, she questioned it. Not because she truly remembered his nature but because her gut denied it. It found softness in him. Not weakness. Softness.

The scream that rose from the poor, poor girl seemed to pull at the very fabric of right and wrong. It was so shrill that her eardrums felt like they were vibrating with the memory. Her heart, broken, at the sound. Her attack had left her wide open even after the efforts of the Nightmother struck it directly. The shout from the wolf was startling. He wanted the Devourer to take him. To let the little fox go. It would never agree.

<It wants all of you. Us. All, of us.>

Every person. Every man, woman, and child. Naedira tensed as Gerwald drew up and smashed at the ground again. The fissure split further and she had to drag her body to the side to avoid falling into a glowing red chasm. <Don’t do it. Don’t let it get its claws into you!>

The dark-haired woman brought a shaking hand up once more and fire once again licked her fingertips. How could she call the Force in this manner if she was dead? Fire had always been her element. It was the easiest for her to shape. She drew back her fist and flung it toward the beast. Could she affect it? Could she even hurt it? She angled it carefully so as not to hit the soldier that attacked—But still.

Could she create anything but a wisp of smoke?

 

[Darth Elyria]

A Monster - For a Monster​

Tag: Darth Metus​

​

Sulphur.​

​

She could smell it on the wind. Something not of this realm had entered the world not far from where they hunted her next meal. She could taste the essence of the damned among ash and copper. A mortal would describe it as rotten eggs. Selene, however, found it intriguing. Why was it here? Why had a beast cloaked in dusk and darkness risen from the depths on this day? At this time?​

​

They shared a similar hunger. The Sith woman sighed, indolently.​

​

She hoped it did not think she might share.​

​

“Something new comes, Isley. Your Nightmother calls the spirits. It may kill your people.”​

​

Elyria paused between the shadow of two tall trees and dark hair billowed around her like a silken storm of velvet night. Dark eyes were fixated on the Sith Lord who thought to consider himself, near, to her equal. She deliberately stood taller. Straighter. Even diminished she was a higher life-form when compared to the swirling amoeba that floated around aimlessly in their own soup. She would not allow this man to see her as anything but perfection. Regardless, her resurrection within her tomb.​

​

He had seen her weakness at the moment she had risen.​

​

Never again.​

​

“It may kill your offspring. He’s gone…Absolutely mad.”​

​

A soft laugh pulled from betwixt her lips. It was saccharine and full of air. Like a small, beautiful thing, taking its last breath. She did not know if Metus cared for this particular youngling or not. Was he important? Uncertain, irrelevant. They had their own quarry to catch and while the appearance of something old and ferocious was intriguing, truly, it was a mystery for another day. Her curiosity did not ought-weigh the ravenous hunger than gnawed in the pit of her belly.​

​

The Vicelord promised her a crown if she spared the blood of her meal. Elyria thought on this slowly, carefully, before a slow smirk swept across ghostly white features. She was paler than usual. The skin across her cheekbones had drawn taut, almost, like that of a skeleton. It was her hunger. Her lack of energy. It was more difficult to pretend to be human when she had not the resources to do so.​

​

A twig snapped on the path ahead and she pulled forward in a sweep of onyx hair that deadened everything in its wake. A small snack, a taste, to get her going. She could smell her serial killing meal on wheels now. He moved fast. She was faster. “My crown must be designed to last through the ages. I am eternal. My head will feel too light without it, should it be lost, and it may roll right off.”​

​

Though he could not see her face he would feel her small attempt at humor.​

​

It was a work in progress. ​

​

She could see the broad shoulders of a man in the distance and her sluggish heartbeat for a moment in anticipation. It was a hunt. This monster among men simply didn’t know he was being hunted. The tables had turned. No longer would he be free to butcher the countryside and leave a red river in his wake. He would serve his purpose. End his reign—And preserve her own.​

​

“Come, Isley…Come. He is here.”​

​

The small cub would know the truth soon. He was no lion, no predator, he was merely a cow. His crimes would sustain her. The blood on his hands would keep her from needing to spill anything more than what he would all too willingly offer. She was night, sweet—Release.​

​

He was a steak dinner.​

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Tag: Saint Azidalf Elde'gaud | Stardust Solus Skirae | Gerwald Lechner | Meili Feng | Rann Thress | Queen Bots™ | The Monster | Naedira Darcrath | Aela Wren | Mic Gallagher
​

The beast growled about the Witch's 'best' when all she tried was ensnaring it from moving. A cute taunt. If Vytal had the time for it, she would have retorted the creature had yet to prove itself worthy of anything approaching her best. Overbearing displays of power were not what Witches strove to accomplish. Nor did they abuse their power granted by the spiritual realm without need. Of course a dark spirit such as this would not understand; it expected -- perhaps demanded -- it be abused by whoever wielded its leash or to be set free to abuse others. Why else did it possess such power but to dominate others, right?​

​

Vytal's left eye squeeze partially shut from the burning sweep of the beast's wings. The heat was impressive, but there was no time to marvel at it. No, there'd be time if they killed it. A little spiritual dissection. Usually that required the soul to be alive, actually. Killing a spirit would normally cause it to vanish not having an actual body. There were ways around it. If there was time.​

​

"Be silent," the Nightmother hissed when Gerwald seemed to invite an exchange. Curse that Naedira was here to drive the male to attempt such folly.​

​

Be prepared, her voice traveled to each mind directly, if you value your lives, to hold tightly to this world.​

​

Could she fashion a stronger direct attack? Certainly. Was there time? Perhaps not. Likewise, this next incantation was neither short nor without risk, but the monster had hold of one while another sought to throw their self at it. Then there was Sergei literally throwing himself at the fiend.​

​

"A new sun rises, when moon doth fall,​

creatures stir from within night's shelters walls.​

The many multiply despite darkness' call.​

​

"Twilight creeps and Life weeps,​

but souls remain despite the pain;​

purpose unfulfilled, love unstained.​

​

"When the sun falls, the moon wanes,​

what was once may yet again.​

Hope eternal ne'er a bane.​

​

"They came from the Source, sight to see.​

They departed to the Source, sight unseen.​

They strive to return 'fore they're gone,​

A thrice blessed soul blind to the bone;​

To not guard the gate by which they stay,​

For the Nightmother to take it all away."​

​

If the beast found its attention wavering, Vytal would try to keep out of its reach as she chanted. Her hands were tied in calling upon the Force or magick to strike at the monster. Her power and concentration were on the depths of the cave from where it had sprung -- or more to the point, the thin crossing between worlds. This doorway swung both ways. It was high time that they shoved it open back into the Nether.​

​

Once, years ago, the Nether had swallowed countless souls in the blink of an eye never to be seen again. Vytal had no intention of creating a calamity of such scale. Nevertheless, she could have the Nether seek to forcibly draw in souls near to the crossing. Something as large and powerful as the beast should prove a hearty treat. Though she couldn't say all the Living present would be immune to the same... 'magnetic' power. Naedira especially seeing how Vytal hadn't time to examine her state -- whether she was alive or still a spirit. Either way, a strong grip on something rooted deep into the earth would be wise for most present.​

​

And if the monster tried to flee, despite the sweat on Vytal's brow she would gladly draw the heavens down upon it to force it through the hungry maw of 'Hell.'​

Template By: Darth Metus (Guy)​

 

[Darth Metus]

B Y O O​

Tag: Gerwald Lechner , Meili Feng , Rann Thress , Vytal Noctura , Naedira Darcrath , Darth Elyria

The scent was on the wind.

Long ago, when Isley was a far younger man, he once learned at the feet of a Master. She, an Alchemist named Rave, introduced the ambitious man to the world of contorting creation to their whim. Whilst his focus was on the creation of powerful artifacts, his education introduced him to the path of true sorcery. And with it, he knew exactly what the stench was. Sulfur. Burning. Something that did not belong in the world of the living had been pulled from beyond. Within his own arsenal were such techniques, particularly the creation of his infamous Wrath. Yet this one was different. It reeked of Fire.

The primordial woman put into words the thoughts which claimed his attention.
It was not difficult to sense the congregation of spirits undertaken by the Nightmother. Nor was it difficult to feel something far more troubling. As Selene had uttered, amidst a bone-chilling chuckle, his son was struggling inside. There was a shift, the man who struggled with his words had become midnight in a single instant. As one who once struggled with two souls within one body, the Father felt for his son. It may kill your people. Your son has gone mad. Isley's teach grit against themselves for but a moment. Part of him wanted to stop in his tracks and dive into the fray alongside them. Yet, just as his body turned towards the source of the calamity, he paused. No. They would be fine.

He had chosen them for their strength. Built this nation to house them. This was a trial that he was confident they could weather. What he would do is provide them with an edge. A boon to quell the threat, but the effort would be undertaken by their own two hands. His dominant hand rose, power falling upon his shoulders. "I have a knife for them. The rest is up to their efforts." he began. Then, she would feel that same black. That same abyss that she called home. He had told her the truth of this might - that, whilst she slumbered, he had written his name within the Dark Side. By this, the gap between them would not be the distance between an ant and a god.

This would be their salvation.

The Sith reached out, feeling out those who stood before the beast. There was always a connection between a warrior and their chosen weapon. Always a bond, one that was quiet within the Force. Isley took hold of this relationship and fed it darkness. Though it would not be the same as taking their tools into the forge for personal attention, the boon would last long enough to address this foe. For those sensitive, they would feel the presence of their Vicelord upon them. They would feel their lightsabers burn hotter than ever. They would know their blades were sharper or their firearms keener. For those insensitive, only a feeling of cold would manifest within the pit of their stomach. The result? Mortal weapons could not make the spirits bleed. From Sithspawn to Spectre, they could fight.

Before withdrawing himself, Isley spoke only a few words directly into the mind of his son. "Take its head, son of mine."

With his boon delivered, Isley withdrew. The battle was theirs to win. Now, there was the matter of the Hunt. Whilst the Sith drew a heavy breath, the snark of his partner was not lost upon him. She was learning, with each passing day, and it was enough that his lips curved into a genuine smile. "Your crown will outlast all creation." he began. He stopped himself at adding just as we - she was the furthest thing from sentimental and he was not about to push his luck. Especially now that she had drawn her form greater than his own. They were closer in power now...but she made it a point to remind him. That proximity was now the distance between a planet and its local star.

Once, it had been the gap between Galaxies.

With the target within reach, the Sith lowered himself to one knee. He had only felt of her power, but had never seen her hunt firsthand. This was something he would not miss. "Dinner is served."
​

 

[Queen Bots™]

_______________________________________________

_______________________________________________

Direct Tag: Gerwald Lechner | Meili Feng | Rann Thress | Vytal Noctura | Sergei "Jack" Jachovich
Noćna Mora [The Wilds]
[ - X - ]
_______________________________________________​

Her weapon dropped.

Silly, child. It was her lifeline. That was the difference between the Devourer and those that it sought to make a meal of. They had to reach for their weapons. The winged-demon was a weapon. Every inch of it could be used in some way to crush and rend its prey to nothing. This small flesh-bag with a mop of black hair that screamed, so helplessly, would be just like the rest. It peeled at the layers of her mind to take in her secrets, her fears, and then projected them back to her.

Brought the darkest moments of her existence back to life.

<A monster—Are you?>, the Noćna questioned as if it were very much so alone with this Meili Feng. As if there weren’t a half-dozen would be warriors starting to respond, and attack, versus standing around lost in varying degrees of fear and ineptitude. <Do your friends know who you are?>

<Know what you are?>, it paused, with a none too gentle sneer and echoing insults that would ring around her mind as if they were happening over, and over again. Weak. Foul. Beast. Creature.

<Abomination.>

The final word was hurled at its prey will all of the slow vitriol and certainty of someone, or something, that knew what she was trying to hide. It would have continued to press on the frail barrier of her mind but it seemed that the soldier was not yet done. The Devourer had sent him careening away with a breath of hellfire but he had risen to his feet once more. This time The Monster held a new weapon. Bright. The horned-beast was not a stranger to these.

The maker used one. Only, it was red.

The Noćna did not bother to dodge. There was no reason that it should move from the efforts of one, small, human. The lightsaber did not damage it but the kinetic force behind the strike was enough to cause the rock-like skin of its leg to crack and break. Lava burst through the wound and ran down into the grass where it began to steam. The creature roared and threw its first victim at Gerwald Lechner in a fit of irritation whilst he bellowed. He was loud, annoying, with guilt that pervaded the very air he breathed. <Silence, fool. Your turn will come soon enough.>

The soldier was another issue entirely. How dare, he. How dare such a gnat strike and cause injury? Clawed hands, free of the woman, reached down to try and grab the soldier instead. He could be changed. He could be molded—His rage could become useful. <You will regret that, human.>

The ground that had been cracked beneath its feet cracked a little further. The fissure was not wide enough for it to fall in, however, it did take a step back to keep balance. That was when the pale-witch made herself known once more. It kept one eye on Rann Thress who seemed to have suddenly discovered a spine, while the other, lingered on their Nightmother. It could feel her particular sentiments and found her wanting.

At least she also seemed to tell the wolf-cub to close his infernal mouth. Certainly, their reasons differed, but it was the only thing the Devourer agreed with. Then it felt something new. Power. Power with her words, with her chanting, that caused it to snarl at Vytal Noctura . It did not know what games she played, nor, did it care. What it could feel was the maw of the Nether widening at the mouth of the cave that it had arrived through.

It could feel the pull. The beckoning to return from whence it came. But—The Noćna was not born of the nether. It was a creature of this realm. Not that one. <You cannot send me hence, witch, without sentencing your own to an eternity of suffering. The barrier is thin. I will return, over, and over until my collection is complete…>

Oh, it would have them all.

The fox. The wolf. The soldier. The son. The witch—And his precious corpse.

If it had managed to grab the soldier it would inject him with the Sith Poison that flowed from beneath wickedly curved claws. Meili may also find herself infected, and for that, they would work his will. Fear projected from the beast in rolling waves. It grew stronger with every passing second. The Devourer could feel itself being pulled backward and opened its maw once more. This time it sent the stream of flame and shadow at the witch. It would flow towards her in a cone that raced through the air so fast that it caused a shimmer.

It would not return to the black without a prize. Naedira was lonely. His corpse required a companion.

And the Noćna required food.​

 

[Darth Elyria]

A Monster - For a Monster​

Tag: Darth Metus​

She waited for his response. Elyria was a strange woman. Eternal, timeless, savage, and cruel. Blunt as only a hammer could be. Within her also lay a certain level of compassion for that which she decided held value. Her children had always held a protected space within the cage of her heart. Depending on the outcome of the not-so-distant future…Would his children not become her own? She paused in her hunt and let inky black eyes sweep over the Sith Lord. “You may go to them—If you wish.”

Permission, granted.

What his youngling faced was nothing short of an abomination. It was not as old as she; but it was quite powerful. Part of her longed to confront it. To show that she had not diminished after expending herself so fruitlessly. She could not risk it. Perhaps she could send the demon back to the Nether. Perhaps, she could bring it to bend the knee before her. Perhaps. But at what cost? More time lost in her tomb? More time recovering? Selene felt her face form a frown.

No. It was not an acceptable use of her strength.

Regardless of the fact of the matter, she could feel the Force shift around the Vicelord. Of course, he would not leave them to fight alone. If he would not fall to their side, he would give them the tools to survive. The dark-haired woman withheld commentary. He was strong. Far closer to her might than he should have been, and yet, she still remained uncertain over whom would win in a duel without restraints.

Elyria, Selene, would have loved to claim that victory.

Only…Things had changed. She did not regret what she had done. To protect this Sith at the direst hour was normal, natural, and an acceptable loss. To keep him safe was to keep herself safe. Even though things had changed. Even though, he was not yet who he needed to be—The time would soon arrive when it was no longer such a gilded mystery. She had shown him all she could. Given him the knowledge he needed to become what was required. It was up to him now. His choice.

For all her might, truly, it had always been his choice.

“They will live, then.”

The quiet words signaled that they would continue through the woods. She could feel him smile at her attempt at humor and felt that it must have been successful. “As long as it does not outlast me.”, she retorted, aware, that creation, too, was eternal. Neither she nor it should outlast the other. Another attempt. She was picking up on the subtleties of inflection that made something “entertaining” rather than simply superior. It was difficult to discern.

Isley would teach her. Friend, lover, guide, companion. All were within his wheelhouse.

When he knelt low, she followed suit. Only she didn’t exactly move her form. It simply sunk low in the shadows and blended into the earth. Her hair moved and wrapped around his shoulders, briefly, before focusing on their target. The laugh that exuded from Elyria was deep, throaty, and less than feminine. It echoed through the trees and their resident serial killer stood up straight. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. His ears rang. Oh, he could hear her.

“…I’m so hungry.”

The soft coo was followed by a whisper of air. Her form became nothing and slid through the shadows like a snake winding through the trees. One then the other, she looped around, before wrapping around the man they had come to put to rest. She could sense the evil in him. The darkness. That only made his blood smell that much sweeter. His malice, his cruelty, would add to her power base. Not only would he nourish her ailing form…But he would strengthen her. His darkness; her darkness.

“…You… You are mine…”

The growled words were uttered through a mouth that seemed to have too many teeth. It was too wide. Like a lamprey had cross-bred with a shark. The shriek that rose from the man never made it past his lips whilst prehensile hair wrapped around his body and acted as a gag. A flurry of movement would blind from the truth of her feeding habits while muffled agony filled the night air. By the time the movement stopped, she settled, feet on the ground. Pallid skin was coated in a slick of red that could only be one thing. Elyria blinked and looked back at Isley. Bloody hand extended—glimmering in the dim light.

“Is this enough?”

 

[Rann Thress]

N O C N A M O R A​

Tags: Darth Metus Queen Bots™ Vytal Noctura Gerwald Lechner Meili Feng The Monster Naedira Darcrath​

"Take its head, son of mine."
​

Another Voice in an already crowded head. he thought.

"As if this had any other outcome, Father." he smiled.

He looked down at his lightsaber. It seemed glow more. With a darkness that seemed just below the surface.

"Hmm. Thank you." He spoke to his father and, with a nonchalant raise of his hand, summoned his yellow blade to his hand, ripping it from Sergei's grasp. He turned his gaze to it, to see it shining it's yellow-ish orange hue. The same dark undertone lay underneath, just out of sight.

Rann smiled, uncaring of his surroundings as the battle raged around him. It felt good to have both of his sabers in his hand.

They're not...your sabers.
What's yours is mine. I am you. Just a different you.

He twirled his two sabers around and looked up at the beast. It was still significantly intimidating, even with his newly released...personality. He was different, not stupid. This beast was still beyond his abilities, possibly even with the enhancement his Father, Darth Metus , gave his weapons. Still, perhaps with his companions the tide would be turned, but it required unity. And possibly a few sacrifices.

Luckily, Gerwald Lechner seemed eager to deliver on the sacrifice aspect, demanding the beast destroy him in place of Meili Feng . Rann scoffed at the notion. It seemed foolish, and of course the creature would decline. They all were in it's grasp, now. It could secure a kill now, why not take the opportunity?

But Rann couldn't allow it. Let Meili live, and Gerwald fall. He was already useless to the fight, his mind was elsewhere. They all sought that creatures destruction. He sought to free the dead woman, Naedira Darcrath , from her fate. He wasn't focused. He wasn't unified. He was a weakness.

"Excellent idea. Give back the fighter, take the Lover!" Rann laughed and slowly, cautiously, began an approach on the creature. As he advanced, he hurled his Green lightsaber at it. A distraction more than anything else, a test of the effect his Father had on his Saber. As it sailed through the air, Rann reached up with his now free hand towards Meili Feng and called upon the Force.

No, not call, demanded.

Rann demanded the Force. To obey, heed him. He commanded respect. The Weak ask. The Strong Command.

So it was, now, that Rann demanded the Force to bring Meili to him, to free her from this creature. As he struggled and strained trying to pull Meili free, he tossed his other saber towards a tree severing it in two. When he recalled his lightsaber to his hand, he commanded the Force to launch the now free Tree towards the beast.

Rann didn't expect it to do much, but maybe it'd annoy the monster. Maybe it'd make the creature advance on Rann in anger, or frustration. Either were acceptable. If the beast would advance on him, and him alone, he could work to keep it at length while the other, more expendable members of his party, got close for the attack. If it didn't? Well, then maybe he'd actually free Meili. Maybe Gerwald could make himself useful.

This was only a trial run. Rann wanted to know what he could do. It was a whole new world for him now. He truthfully didn't know if he was strong enough to free Meili. Really, it didn't matter. She was nothing to him but a soldier in this fight. Worst case scenario she died. Best case scenario? She didn't die and contributed, even slightly, to killing the beast. Either way Rann wasn't committed to victory or defeat. This story could end either way, but a constant in either would be with him walking away, even if he walked alone. He wasn't about to die for this planet, these people, or people who were already dead.

Rann couldn't die here. So he wouldn't. The dead can't get stronger. The dead can't be powerful. Then again, before today, Rann thought the dead could only return as spirits, not fully formed tangible entities. However, Rann desired to remain among the living.

So, he'd fight. And he'd do his best, sure. He'd try as hard as he can to kill this beast, to show it's head to his father. Parade it. Show off, gloat. Yes. He'd contribute.

Perhaps, for now, his show of contribution would be freeing Meili, or getting the attention of the beast. Work out the details later.

He disignited his lightsaber and returned it to his waist, focusing both hands on Meili and the Creature. His breathing deepened and his hands began to shake as he commanded the Force to pry Meili away from the grasp of the creature. He looked at Gerwald, and saw what he was trying to do. An idea formed in his head and he shouted at Gerwald.

"The Beasts grip is loosening." A lie. "I almost have her freed. You need to get to her and pull her free. Your little hole in the ground will doom Meili as well. You need to get her out!"

Maybe, with him approaching, the beast would actually weaken it's grip to focus on the new threat. Meili was probably worth more than Gerwald anyway. So, a little lie. Something to help free her and possibly doom Gerwald. It'd probably awaken some rage inside Meili that could end up being very useful.

Nothing but good things could come from this.
​

 

[Meili Feng]

Tagging: Gerwald Lechner | Naedira Darcrath | The Monster | Vytal Noctura | Rann Thress

​

She’d fought in battles and wars, duels and competitions that had matched her against all sorts of situations. The petite black-haired woman had faced them all and won, had never questioned her ability to face down any opponent and defeat them. To be victorious in the face of any odds.

Until now.

Until she’d come face to face with the nightmare made real, made flesh. Until she’d seen the ghosts surrounding it.

How could you fight something like that? Both material and immaterial at the same time. Meili had seen it shrug off attacks that would have reduced a lesser being to nothingness, that would have split a lesser being in two. It had taken the best the Nightmother, the Soldier and the Sith could throw at him and was still standing. How could she fight something like that? How could she ever hope to win against a beast like this? Why would she even try?

Dark eyes saw the battle, saw her allies fighting for their lives against the Nightmare. Fighting for her life. Didn’t they know the creature was right? She was a monster. An abomination who had run away from home to hide the truth of what she was from her friends and family. Those she cared about, those she needed to protect from the truth. She knew that they would never approve, could never accept the truth of who she was. She’d always known, deep in her heart of hearts what the truth was.

She’d always been able to control herself better, always been able to push down that curse that afflicted her people. She’d always known things, could sense them where her colleagues couldn’t. She’d always lied to herself about this, had told herself that she was just lucky, sensitive. She’d tried to hide what she knew deep deep within herself. Yet, in front of the Beast’s terrible gaze, those whispers that assailed her even those hidden truths were laid barren, open.

The truth of what she was dragged out into the light. She’d known that her family would turn away from her, but now those new friends would turn their backs on her too. She’d always known that this was how things would end up for her, that she would end up alone.

That limb wrapped around her tightened, driving the air from her lungs in a pained gasp, black clouds obscuring her vision before she felt the wind around her the feeling of slamming into a warm body. Of falling to the ground.

Those senses that she’d always hidden from, ignored had been torn open. Sensation, information flooded her mind, drowning the woman in a tsunami of emotion, of information.

She could feel them, her allies still fighting, still struggling against the beast.

Didn’t they know it was pointless? It would win, it would survive no matter what they tried.

She knew she should get up, pull her spear close and charge the beast…but she couldn’t.

She couldn’t bring herself to stand.

A warrior born, trained and forged in the flames of conflict. A fighter with few peers.

A child curled up on the ground, arms wrapped around herself as she rocked herself forward and back in a foetal position. Fingers pressed against her sides, feeling the warm blood flowing from the wounds left by the creature's claws. A child who wanted nothing more than for her mother to wrap her arms around her and tell her that it would be ok.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
WEAPON: xxx
TAG: Meili Feng | Naedira Darcrath | Abel Denko | Teyla Sal-Soren | Vytal Noctura | Rann Thress | The Monster

Darkness...​

​

It was was palpable, tangible. Gerwald could feel it. The thinner the veil became the more Gerwald could feel the dark side pulling at him. Was he a dark side user, yes, but there was something about the presence of the beast which seemed to amplify it. It was calling to him, and at the same time, Gerwald knew he needed to not only avoid it, but he needed lock this beast away. Yes he wanted to save Naedira Darcrath , but above everything else he wanted to ensure the others were protected. If he could do both he would, but it was becoming rather clear that this time it would not be possible. He wanted to desperately see the woman freed from her torment, but the well being of the living was more important.​

​

The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few.​

​

The saying played at his mind and steeled his resolve. If it meant sending Naedira back with the beast in order to see everyone saved, it would be done. Some would call him weak, but there was no weakness in wanting to preserve life, especially with how few in number the Knights Obsidian were now. There was a strength in numbers, and unless they all worked together they would fail.​

​

This was why Gerwald attempted to open the fissure further. While the others attacked directly, Gerwald attacked in other methods. The direct approach was not working, save for the injury which had been caused by The Monster . The lupine was surprised it had worked, but the beast was not amused.​

​

The voice of Rann Thress rang in his ears. It was an attempt to push Gerwald to commit to the trade. If it would help, Gerwald would do it, however Naedira had cautioned them all.​

​

It wanted all of them.​

​

<Silence, fool. Your turn will come soon enough.> ​

​

Gerwald glared at the beast. Meili Feng was tossed at him. At least he would not have to worry about the fox as he had. Raising a hand, Gerwald used the force to slow the momentum of the fall. Meili would still end up on the ground, but Gerwald hoped her injuries would be minor as a result.​

​

He had a choice. Looking Naedira as the others pressed their attack he could see everything falling apart around him. Sergei was in danger. Vytal's attacks were not working, and Rann had been foolish enough to ignore the warning Naedira had given them. They needed to run... they needed to get away. There were too many for Gerwald to save, too many lives at stake. What was there to do?​

​

It was then Gerwald remembered others who had come into his life, one in particular would have been helpful here. A beast made of fire surely would not stand well in the cold.​

​

Gerwald spoke to Naedira's mind once more.​

​

<"Whatever strength you can spare I need it,"> his words would carry with it a thought, a plan, one which needed what she could give him.​

​

His mind went to Vytal Noctura 's next.​

​

<"We need to make it cold... fire... ice... they cannot co-exist... pray to whatever spirits you worship that the answer is that simple.">​

​

Her mind would hear his words as Gerwald ran to where Naedira lay. The lupine helped her up if she would take it. In this moment he would be her strength so that she could lend whatever energy and power that remained.​

​

It was then that Gerwald closed his eyes and warned everyone as a cold wind began to blow...​

​

"It is about to get very cold..."​