Location: Royal Academy of Bastion,
Ravelin, Bastion
Objective: Defend the Royal Academy, ensure Acolytes escape and information does not fall into the hands of the New Imperial Order
Allies: The Sith Empire |
Enemies: The New Imperial Order |
Lunafreya Solidor
Equipment: “Twin Dancers,” (Dual Lightsabers), “Apostasy’s End” (Lightstaff),
Sarassian Iron Platemail,
Telis’s Legion, a handful of brave Sith Acolytes, and a whole Academy’s worth of information
Post Number: III
Theme
And way down we…
The back of the school was eerily quiet with the hollow sound of the round colliding with the general of the approaching army of the back. Not risking a look outside, the Commander kept into her quiet gloom, seeing the lasting fading lights of the dusk streaming in through the window like rays from a god that pretended to care. Within the quiet there was a peace and a prayer, a hope that by the hand dealt there would be a hesitation, a lapse in cohesion… but against the odds, there was not. Outside the Commander could still hear the heavy marching of the army’s approach, a sound not so distant amongst them, echoing like the feet of giants upon unworthy land. The sound was nothing not familiar, to the Commander, and it was in that familiarity that her heart dropped and she took in a quick, unexpected breath.
”I repeat, backline, fall back, fall back-“ The Commander whispered tensely into her relay, only finding static in response, gritting her teeth, she turned to the emptiness around her. For a moment she could feel it in the air, hair standing on edge, an ache in her left elbow, her stomach dropping, before… it vanished. A cool sense of cold washed over her nerves, her feeling wiped away like tears within the rain, stones and shells upon an empty beech. She heard the shifting in the mechs long far outside, static in her ears as confusion set in amidst the blackout, and as everything came to a halt, the Commander did nothing but turn her back, crouch, and brace-
And noise and chaos erupted behind her, as the sound of the first missiles impacted the rigged wall. All around her the room shook and seemed to rock, the world breaking around her as there was nothing more than the wave of force that attempted to push her off balance. What little left of the glass window there was shattered, sending glass and chunks of wall spiraling through the room, the floor nearest to the wall collapsing down in a rain of rubble and destruction. The missiles from the walkers hit the wall, sending a nova of explosions that back-blasted bits of the shrapnel into both sides, not controlled but chaotic, ripping through the school’s back wall and sending what debris wasn’t flung deeper into and farther out of the school crumbling into a wall of refuse and clutter, the doors collapsing along with the hallways closest to the exits.
Leaving a shockwave that could be felt through the whole building, the Commandos holding the back lines braced, some having take heavy chunks and their armor damaged before they’ve even seen combat, while light returned to the tunnels, not from before them as they had planned but from above, their vision forward blocked off by the wall of rubble and collapsed flooring. There was a blossom of fire and shrapnel, dust and ash wafting down as the commandos were now faced with an uncertainty over who would come over the hill that was now built. The Commander, from above, ducked into the shadows as now broad daylight streamed into her once-hidden cubby for all but the darkest recesses, dust and smoke dancing about like a grim pairing, as the world settled and the story of noise died away again. The back wall of the school had largely caved in right at the center, leaving a pile of rubble that had shot out like a claymore’s blast, leaving nothing of the once-sanctum of gloom.
As the dust settled, the Commander gripped her rifle with a hunter’s sentence once again, prowling from her hiding spot as she fled further into the school, finding another way to desperately get down to the line below, and while the commandos settled from the shock of the explosions, they readied their guns for what would be coming onto them, some with heavy rifles, other set to explosive grenades, and even others in the farthest back keeping their sights trained on anybody brave enough to show their heads and risk losing them. The back line had not fallen, but the world around them had turned upside down, and their plans were scattered to the wind like burning textbook pages.
And from the front, the last of the line had fallen, the last of the commandos, outnumbered perhaps a hundred to one, kept their sacrificial and dutiful line, the Captain standing amidst his fallen brothers and charges. He had sworn to protect them, he had sworn not to fail, and he had sworn that he would see to it that the Empire’s heart of Bastion would not fall, but all around him, his hopes of pushing the New Imperial Order back before they even touched the school were burnt to ash, especially with the sound of the explosions far behind him, smoke and chunks of wall being flung far into the sky. He could feel the shockwave of the blast, and in his weakened, wounded state, it pushed him into the barrier he stood behind, stunning him, forcing him to take a breath.
As he watched with bleary eyes he saw an entire squadron disappear behind the battery of an artillery, reduced to nothing more than blackened, unidentifiable scraps, the ground torn where they stood. All that remained was Leviathan squadron and the Captain, and as he ducked behind cover, looking towards the door, he felt another blast and another wave of energy wash over him, the door annihilated by the command to fire. Razed, leaving a blackened scar of where the door once stood, for a moment in his bleary state he thought he saw somebody take a step back from the rays of light that now bounded into the pitch blackness, cutting through the gloom like treacherous daggers.
Bastion’s fading light had betrayed them, as night began to rise above them. At the edges of his vision the Captain saw another darkness, unfamiliar yet numbing. To his side another soldier dropped, chest crumpled by a blow as the man screamed, falling still against the scarred marble. Taking in one final deep breath, the Captain activated the relay, unknowing that the blackout had occurred and that the white noise in his ears wasn’t just from the battle around him.
”Lord Aagenti… the… the line has fallen. Leviathan Squadron is… down. They’re… they’re… they’re-“
Against the barrier, the Captain slumped, eyes closing as the strength left them to keep them open. In his hands the clutch of his gun relaxed, the weapon falling from his hands and into his lap, clattering to the ground beside him. For a moment the pain faded, an inviting numbness and cold setting into his veins as his fears left him, a feeling of regret being the last vestige he had of life, as he grew silent, and cold, and still behind the cover. With one final explosion from a walker the cover came down upon the final squadron, Leviathan buried beneath the blackened statue of twisted metal and superheated stone. The courtyard grew silent as the Sith resistance fell, leaving only the black chasm before them.
And Aagenti, just at the edge of the light, looked out into the ghostly remains of the battle that had just finished. His line within the heart of the building had felt the crash of the wall behind him, and the blackout that had occurred had divided his command, leaving Aagenti alone with his line, and the Commander alone with hers. At the edge of the radiance Aagenti looked out as the twisted metal statue fell upon the last of the commandos, and a handful of soldiers of the New Imperial Order began to march. Two leading the charge before all others, while the rest held back, content to sit within the gluttony of their slaughter, preparing to indulge in the sacrilege of a ground never met to see war. The New Imperial Order brought war and chaos to a place of peace and sanctity and order, and their indulgence would never falter, never fade, never
die.
In that moment, Aagenti looked out and saw the face of his father staring down at him, gray eyes and striking features, disappointment on his face as Aagenti allowed himself to be lost, momentarily, in a memory. He could almost feel the gaze of Lucius burning a hole through him as he held, in his hands, the pieces of the defiled computer, undamaged but perfectly scattered by Telis’s childish curiosity and his voracity to understand. He felt the spite now, felt the young mechanic in him demanding his father to tell him, to explain, and only receiving disappointment in return. There was no love in Telis for his father, only until he had died had he truly ‘realized’ that he wasn’t a monster as he had thought, but it had come at the cost of Perin in turn. It sickened him, and in that sickening came a tiredness, a tiredness of trying to live up to expectations.
Telis felt cold. Aagenti let that coldness grow into a winter.
Along his hands, without even thinking about it, frost began to gather. Upon the synthetic limb it gathered in a web, delicate, perfect, a string of connections and hubs all forming along his hand, up his wrist, collecting and flowing a cold mist that hid from the sunlight. It was beautiful, and the lights beneath his hand shifted to follow the tracings of the frost, glowing in an icy blue that radiated more than his original purpose. The ice crystallized, forming jagged splinters and hauntingly, dangerously beautiful icicles that glinted in what sunlight that bounced off of them. It was in equal parts a weapon and a display, winter flowing in his palm, his finger stiffening with the crystalline formations upon the machine.
And in his other hand, the ice froze into his skin, starting with his fingertips, color paling and draining as the blood ceased to follow. The lights within his hand flickered, trying to stay on but relenting to the frigid cold that grew as his temperature fell,
fell,
fell. The tips of his fingers began to turn a pale shade of purple, darkening into blue and eventually black, in the same way that night was falling around him, though his joints stiffened and his feeling faded, he felt more in control of his actions than ever. Even though his heartbeat began to slow as he felt the cold overwhelm his whole body, he never felt more alive. Even though the ice began to gather around his eyes, spider-webbing his skin into splitting, black and blue, even as his eyes turned blindingly blue as the Force found a font within him, he could see with a cold, crystalline clarity.
Even as he felt his breath condensate on the air in front of him, so cold that it created clouds of frigid vapor, he felt a warmth that was as comforting as a bonfire in the heart of winter. Along his hands, with each breath he took, oxygen broke into ozone, light blue sparks of energy following the crystals of ice that had formed upon his metallic sleeve, using each of them as lightning rods, bouncing as he felt the pulse of the shock fall in line with the pulse of his heartbeat. He watched as the two closest figures began the steps to the door, Aagenti slowly pulling the hood of his shawl low over his eyes, his skin pulled tight into a snarl as he held the feeling, perfectly in balance of control and a lack thereof, as he saw his father’s face, his brother, the broken world before him, flashing in a kaleidoscope of color and feeling and emotion.
He could not fail, not when the world had taken so much from him so relentlessly. He had fallen to the Sith to find freedom and a mastery of his own fortune, and who the New Imperial Order were now stood as the arbiters to throw that into question. For all he lost, for all he knew he would lose, Aagenti let himself go, feeling the coldness set in deeper into a fundamental part of who he was, who he has been, who he would always be. The world had forced him to be a villain, and for once, Telis truly accepted such a charge. The line between Telis and Aagenti fell away,
as way down he went, deeper, letting the perfect harmony between stagnant cold and racing energy fall away into a void.
As the first two of the line rounded to the top of the stairs, Aagenti could see the fires of war gleaming as the furnace to keep their blood from freezing over.
Aagenti would let freeze such fire cold, and with it, let winter come upon spring.
Baring his teeth into a snarl, Aagenti would hold both of his hands up, his synthetic hand behind the other, as he screamed, the flesh from his palm peeling away in flecks of blackened, dead skin as the frostbite was expelled, overwhelming the world in front of him in a microcosmic storm of cold, frost and lightning expelled outwards, tearing up the floors and freezing the air solid. Those in the door would be met with the storm of lightning and frost, flesh being drained of heat in a wave of cold as horrible and uncaring as the emptiness of space, while with the storm came the crash of lightning and sound, blowing through what was left of the doorway and surrounding the two reptilian warriors in storm of annihilation. Aagenti, highlighted within the light of the lightning that shot from him, appeared as a spectral ghost, his will suffusing the very air of the school with malevolence and fear. The Lord of Ambition awakened a beast deep within himself…
And winter came with it.
Irveric Tavlar
