Devotion. Bravery. Sacrifice. [ Knights Obsidian ]

[Rience]

M O O R W O O D​

P E A K​

The battles had been hard fought.

Most did not take the reality of War lightly. To charge headlong into battle, bearing the ideals of one's home upon their shoulders is a terrifying calling. No guarantee of survival. No guarantee of emerging from the fires unbroken and whole. Yet, when the call came from down from above, the Knights Obsidian rose to the task. As one, they traversed the stars and waged a bitter fight against Mandalorian tyranny. In the present, the inferno of that battle had waned to embers - and it was time for the Knighthood to lick their wounds.

It was time to prepare for whatever Hells the future had in store.

Moorwood Peak had been the locale of choice for the restoration effort. Those wounded on Tanaab had been stabilized and ferried to the wintery mount. Here, the promise of healing was kept - and upn the towering steps of the Courtyard had many field tents been erected. Those talented in the gifts of restoration worked ceaselessly to mend the scars of war. And those who had emerged unscathed took the opportunity to truly rest. For the moment, the burden of battle was no more.

But for one, a fresh burden had been laid upon his shoulders. Within one of the field tents, an alabaster warrior laid. His wounds would not steal him from the world of the living - but his service to the Knighthood had come at a great cost. To stand. To serve. To fight. Tanaab had seen those days come to an end. Dominus Prime [member="Elessar Talon"] had to look towards the future. Beside him knelt a stalwart apprentice. A man he had cultivated over many months. A man he trusted. In the lapse between his treatments, the Echani warrior settled his hand upon the mighty pauldron of his student's armor. And in that instant, Hashim's perspective evolved.

Though the words were brief, they carried with them the challenge of a lifetime: "Lead. Them. Well."

Ascension gripped the armored man thus. Rapid steps crunched in the snow and echoed upon the stone as he ascended the steps of the Courtyard and entered the Peak's Atrium. An order was given to the Knights standing watch - for every able-bodied soul to join him here. They departed at once. And soon, Hashim would not be alone. He stood before the bonfire, eyes burning with resolve. The Knights Obsidian were indeed great. Indeed mighty. Yet they could be so much more. They stood against corruption and served the Confederacy. But there was so much more that could be done.

That would be done.

Spoiler: Tag

@Cardinal Vi'dreya
[member="Áine"]
[member="Kurenai Yumi"]
[member="Ithiel Vi'Dreya"]
[member="Marek Starchaser"]
[member="Nine Lives"]
[member="Kwelin Orlov"]
[member="Shalita Vi'dreya"]
[member="Jarik Creel"]
[member="Cerria Rene"]
[member="Aayaith Siosa"]
[member="Cerik Soloman"]
[member="Nix Scamandros"]
[member="STaCLO"]
[member="Djonas Vile"]
[member="Krystal Estain"]
[member="Zoe Rosella"]
[member="Kreus"]
[member="Talon Rahl"]
[member="Anastasia Vi'dreya"]
[member="Josiah"]
[member="Anya Malvern"]
[member="Khia Varad"]
[member="Drauchir"]
[member="Gerwald Lechner"]
[member="Isarn Apis"]
[member="Varick Lechner"]
[member="Alwine Lechner"]
[member="Darth Ivum"]
[member="Cezar Alexandrescu"]
@Zhai’ellev
[member="Taramaz Laurs"]
[member="Naedira Darcrath"]
@Aitir Kor'sa
[member="Krest"]
[member="Uthixo Nazim"]
[member="Zorok Rane"]
[member="Ek Vilibro Griz"]
[member="Firenne Van-Derveld"]
[member="Erin Tenel"]
[member="Hayden Va'kin"]
[member="A’Runda"]
[member="Madalena Antares"]
[member="Mara Denko"]
[member="Vereshin"]
[member="Fawn Alzi"]
[member="Kasca Fen"]
[member="Veronika Fleischer"]
[member="Asher Mossa"]
[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]
[member="Ashara Evanaris"]
[member="Ahron Rol"]

 

[Alwine Daye]

Morrowood. Chocolate brown eyes narrowed as Alwine stared around her, looking at the area. While she could not and would not deny that there was serene beauty to the place, it made her feel uncomfortable. It had only been recently that she had learned about this place, and that there would be a Lightside Nexus. Alwine had wondered about the nature of those things, and what it would be like to be in the presence of one.

And now that she was… She was uncertain what to make of it. The wolf beneath her skin was confused. It did not understand if it wanted to jump out and go for a run, to cower away, or to just sit and growl. But it was not the wolf that was in control, and the woman was confused as well. She was neither a Darksider nor a Lightsider, and in truth had not expected to really feel any sort of different at all, yet here she was. And Alwine could not help but wonder, was it because she was a Lupine, or a Knight Obsidian?

Forcing the confused wolf down, she wished to go see the sick and injured that had been brought to the planet. On Eshan, she had helped in the war's aftermath by making their nature re-grow. Here… Here she could not do something as great. This was not Taanab, to which she could not yet go. But to help with the sick, to replace pans, to change band aids, that, she could do. Turning to head for the area of healing, Alwine received it – the message to attend.

Curiouser and curiouser.

And by the sensation of the movement around her, not just the ones she could see with her eyes, but what she could feel through the Force, a massive amount of other Knights Obsidian beginning to move, she knew that she had not been the only one. It would take time, she believed. Time for them to come from the corners of this massive place, from other places. But they were moving.

Making her way through the gathering crowd, the petite blonde looked around her, trying to find familiar faces in the crowd.

 

[Krystal]

​

Moorwood.

Krystal had many fond memories of this place. Diving into the clear waters of the springs and wandering the town during peacetime, she truly believed now what she was skeptical of at first: that it genuinely was a place of healing.

That was partially why it came as little shock to be invited back to Moorwood after the scars Tanaab had left on the entire unit. But their commander had to know that he couldn't just "magik" the wounds away. It was not to be another "relax in the springs, feel the healing energy" type deal. There had to be change coming.

Real change. The kind of change that made people feel like things were actually being addressed, rather than simply shoved aside for the next person to deal with -- for too often the consequences of this fell on the Knights themselves. It was not that they could not take it -- for they did and they continued to thrive -- but simply that it limited them, and all they could be.

Krystal drew no attention to herself as she walked through the crowd, searching for a spot where she could watch the action without being seen.

She had left them.

She had left them on Tanaab and she would not deal with that. Now, or hopefully ever. The guilt may gnaw at her brain but she would simply let it, rather than turn it into the raging storm it could be.g

Krystal physically shook her head to dispel these thoughts. She would sit and she would watch... and she would not speak.

 

[Kurenai Yumi]

Wounds of battle never really effected her, a high pain tolerance and regenerative healing made any hospital stay very short for the veteran solider. Combine that with any healing items and modern tech and she was in and out faster then a hyper way driver through during the quite period. Still, even if she was already to get back to work others were not, many here needed days, weeks, even moths to get over their wounds, others maybe even years and for a small few they would never recover, staying here to have an easy passing, surrounded by friends and comrades.

​It was a feeling she had long grown accustom to, no longer was sadness a feeling she got upon seeing a fellow solider die or in pain, it was a scene the women had become desensitized too, for better or worse. Just another small problem that made socializing difficult, being unable to share the pain of lose with others, even if it was an aspect of life she was very accustom to. It was a bit awkward to hang around here as such, being one of the few not near a or in a bed. For now the casually dressed giant of a women just wandered around aimlessly, already having gone through some routine exercises to keep in shape, a waiting game as one would say until some job or mission came up requiring attention.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Upon the return of the Confederate forces from Tanaab, Vytal had strode straight into the halls of the Mandragora. She called upon the Fates -- whom she'd relocated from their neutral base and to what might become a new home -- to call upon the Fanged God's blessing. The five of them worked tireless, weaving the mystick energy. They shaped, formed, and then distilled it down into a glowing, green liquid. Fortunately the simple ritual did not require much ichor, but they would need considerable quantity of it.

When they were finished her Sisters asked if it had been wise to spend so much of their ichor considering how difficult it was to obtain off Dathomir. Vytal regarded the four for a moment. "We don't learn from the dead." Perhaps many saved would not teach them either, but if the Knights perished the Confederacy would be ripe for conquest. Everything would be lost. It was in their best interest to support them in their time of need; and in return she expected them to do the same.

Later, upon their arrival, the five Nightsisters stood out of place, and they knew it. There was something...strange about the remote temple so high up. Uneasy. And it wasn't the tents full of wounded, dying, or dead.

In distributing the Water of Life they worked separately as many were in need quickly. However there were times when most or all assembled over one Knight in particular. They surrounded them and called upon the spirits to heal the grievous injury. One of their number from Dathomir had been versed in healing, and that Sister led them in the incantation; the rest, Vytal included, contributed their strength and skill to the task to bolster its power and reduce the strain. There may be many more like this; those that did not receive the Water that would be in need of magick. Such a burder had to be shared among them in order to be of use for more than a handful of Knights.

Time passed and a stirring of forces began. Vytal rose from where she had crouched beside an injured man to step outside. Her eyes followed the number to the Atrium. She gestured for the other Sisters to remain and tend those that were not stirring. There had been a summons, but they did not all need to go. Anything of importance could be relayed.

The closer Vytal came to the Atrium, however, the stronger the...strange aura of the place grew. It called to mind a description Pomsty had once said. About the 'Light Side'. The air seemed to grow heavier even this high up in the temple; it bore down on her and began ever so slowly to boil along her skin. The Nightsister's step faltered a moment confronted by this strange field of energy that grew stronger the closer she sought to attend the gathering. Was this the welcome they had for the 'Dark Side'? The 'inclusion'? With all their 'Sith' about she would have expected more.

And perhaps they were, but Vytal would not wait. With some of her personal ichor the Dathomiri woman held her arms out before her, palms up. "In the Dark, the Winged Goddess is welcome. In the Light, the Fanged God is welcome. Their children are welcome. In peace, all is understood, if not accepted." The green mists swirled around the Nightsister that conjured them. It formed a shell about her before it sank into her body. Once imbued, the fiery weight on her shoulders lessened (or rather was repelled), at least enough to suffer through being in its presence. It was hardly 'pleasant' however, but the potency of the light was...significant here.

The gods may not agree, but at times they could come to terms. Brief alliances, perhaps. Forced acceptance of things outside of each of their individual control. How could the children interact if they were not at times welcomed into the other's camp? Rare as these things were, Vytal would call upon the understanding of the Winged Goddess to allow a practitioner of the Book of Shadows to pass in her presence. Vytal had not come here seeking the knowledge, wisdom, and aide of Offworlders only to be shut out by her own goddess -- this was all for the good of Dathomir, and Vytal would proclaim that to the deities face-to-face as she had once Sisters on Dathomir if that's what it took.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

[member="Vytal Noctura"] had the ideal survival method to tolerate the Nexus settles over this planet. It was the last place anyone should take a darksider if they require healing. There are those among this Knights Obsidian that simply require aid from the opposite end of the spectrum. And Pom Stych Tivé would make the effort to see to it that their personal preferences are honored during their time of need. She simply could not work with the Light. This oversight would not occur again. It took too much effort to attempt to heal a darksider brought here, fighting nature to generate darkness for a dark Knight’s healing, Morewood, where the very planet itself holds a magick which stands against them.

Tired is what she is, and Pomsty is no medic to begin with. The droids which had any idea what to do were barreling through people, scrambling to get to where their aid is most needed. They spent way too much time with the Dominus Prime to be comfortable with. He was critical.

She wondered what is it all for, this uninviting, devour or be devoured universe? ‘Why do some of us have to be reincarnated, fighting our way through life again, longer than others?’ she could not imagine how it feels for [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"].

Pomsty put her arm around Vytal’s shoulder as they made their way towards the bonfire, and passed her a Potion vial. She turned her head to whisper, “Just don’t take so much that you turn into a statue.” Walking on, she asked, “So what do you think about the lightside now that you have been introduced? The answer to why war even exists at all, seems answered right here; doesn’t it?”

She wondered why a bonfire for the group, instead of some portable heaters? A bonfire to a Nightsister means one thing, a celebration of freedom, the body, and conjuring, the bond between life and magick. It will be difficult to resist temptation!!

 

[Mara Denko]

​

Blood... Such a waste.

Mara had made her home on Monastery in an attempt to place herself as close to the light nexus as she possibly could, namely for the ease of access for her research - but with the Confederacy's constant thirst for Mandalorian blood, she felt that most of her time was being spent instead working to put their military forces back together after their forays into enemy territory in the name of what they seemed to think was freedom.

It was true that her training had been clear about the necessity of violence in the name of protecting the Light - but there was no light so great in the UCM's territory that it should carry such a cost, certainly? However, after years of training and mastery of her craft, she'd chosen a far less physical avenue for her devotion to the Light... So perhaps she wasn't to be an authority on what the CIS should be doing.

The Jedi had had plenty of time to ruminate on these ideas as she'd busied herself with the care for those who had been transported to Moorwood with the intent of provide healing. Her skills had always leaned heavily towards combat, but healing was no great feat for the dark-haired woman either. As such, she'd spent the last few days assisting where she was able; providing healing to those who would benefit from it, and easing the pains of passing for those who would not. The mess following Eshan had been bad, certainly - but there were far more from Tanaab who had managed to live through the fighting, only to end up here, among the snow dusted peaks, to breathe their last... She was unsure if it was a mercy, honestly...

When the summon thrummed across her skin like a great bell, rung at a distance, Mara had no doubt about what was needed. She called another healer to the bedside she'd been seated at, handing over the charge she'd been seated with for the last few hours, listening in calm silence to the man's breath as it slowed in agonizing seconds. It wouldn't be long now until he passed - but having a healer on hand to suppress his pain was all they would be able to do... She stood and exited the medical tent, blinking in the blinding light as it reflected from the snow that had been trampled flat from all the feet that now traversed the mountain side.

The ascent to the summit was a quick one as her post had been stationed as close to the Nexus as possible since she could easily stand the brilliant warmth that it provided to those who were sensitive to the Force. Striding passed the glowing flames that made the peak famous, she was heartened to see those who were also making the journey, offering a tired smile to any she encountered. Entering the Atrium she felt the warmth from the massive bonfire in the centre of the chamber warm she skin immediately, washing the chill from the brisk mountain air from her with ease. She strode easily to join those who had braved the climb around the flames, eyes drifting across all those assembled.

The Knights were left once again with a new leader, and her eyes finally came to rest on the helm of the man who was to lead them anew. Her smile was small, but kind as she nodded her head to the Lord Commander. Perhaps this one would do a better job of protecting his people... Perhaps.

 

[Josiah]

Location: Moorwood Peak​

Accompanying: [member="Mara Denko"]​

He had stared Death in the face before.

In the name of the Light, Josiah Denko had no qualms about raising his saber. Throughout his days, he never felt as though the battles he fought were unjust. There was always the greater good - always someone or something whose existence was at stake. In his youth, his wars against the Sith were in the name of Galactic peace. And now, as the Confederacy he served warred against the Mandalorians, the same good was at stake. The Clans were ravenous in their quest for blood. Their ways of war so ingrained that they gladly turned the sick and the dying into impromptu soldiers. Tanaab had been a sickening experience - not because the southern systems rose to fight. But because of how their enemies fought back.

The Jedi still had the moment burned into his mind. As the battles raged in the heavens above, a cadre of Knights had made it into the city. Yet the Mandalorians, those vicious scum, had sent innocent souls to die. Josiah remembered the young Apprentice who stuck to his side. Vividly recalled how, at the sight of the child who rounded the corner, he attempted to reason. Attempted to speak the truth - that the little one was safe. That she had nothing to fear. But as the Apprentice drew near, the child pressed a button hidden beneath the hospital gown. The explosion saw her and the Apprentice engolfed in flames - so quickly that Josiah could barely protect himself. Their enemy was that loathesome. That cruel. At least the Sith would face their enemies head on.

In the wake of that hellish day, caring for himself became a tertiary thought. What mattered was seeing as many of his allies through the battles as possible. And in that time, he killed. He had lost track of just how many fell to his blade - but the count was never enough. No matter how many he bested. No matter how many limbs thudded upon the chatted earth, his fellows kept dying by his side. Their weaponized civilians and tricks kept snatching souls faster than Josiah could act. Those he managed to save, he brought back to Moorwood. Back to where there was peace. Back to where there was sanity. It was there upon the frosted peaks that the Jedi was able to, for just a moment, breathe.

His first thought was to find her. To find whatever tent she toiled in and to whisk her away, for even a moment. To know that she was alive and well. To know that his world outside of the Light's cause yet lived. He did locate her in short order but, just as he had played his part, so too was she. While his role had come to an end, she busied herself aiding the wounded and the dying as best she could. Those he managed to liberate, she attempted to save. Some made it. Many didn't. Thus, Josiah simply sat upon the stairs of the courtyard. The cold of the peak did not bother him - for it was a far cry from the stifling heat of explosions and the weight of his armor. To feel something, anything, different was a reprieve in of itself.

But then, the call rang out. The Knighthood, those who could, were to assemble within the atrium. Ascension gripped the Jedi thus. It did not take him long to file within the warmth of the Atrium and to stand alongside his peers. His place, as it should be, was at the side of [member="Mara Denko"]. And together, they looked upon he who would lead their order. Josiah hoped that this man would be able to do something. Anything. To abate the hurt prevalent upon the peak this day. Though their cause was indeed just, there was no crusade that did not cause pain. And as of now, the Knighthood was in agony.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Everything hurt. In the commotion of the battles on Taanab, Scherezade had been fighting, as per usual. Her personal mission, had succeeded – she'd arrived on the planet to set fire to some of the agriculture fields to distract the Mandalorian attention, and had found herself fighting, along with two battlemates, more than ten times their numbers. She'd connected the three of them through Battle Mediation for the first time in such conditions, and had ended up taking enough slugs and blaster bolts with her body to almost destroy her armor.

At the end of it, it had been mostly her earliest months of being a combatant that had saved her. Titled the best pin cushion in the 'verse, where the armor had given out, her body had still held on. She'd become a punctured fountain of blood, and had spent most of the time in a bacta tank since, but it hadn't been enough.

Had she not been on her sister's ship, Scherezade would have made her way back to Geonosis immediately, to rest and recover there. But her sister had other plans, and so the two had gone to Monastery instead.

Scherezade knew that something was wrong almost as soon as they broke through atmosphere. The pain that ripped through her body was pure anguish, and she had curled up on the floor of the cockpit, unable to stop screaming. It had taken changing the ship's direction back off-planet and out of orbit before the pain had subdued some.

She'd experienced such pain before. During a mission with Josh, they had been fighting a bunch of villagers that had their minds taken over by a Sith Lord attempting to create a black hole that would swallow the planet up. Josh had used Force Light – and neither of them had known that Scherezade would be the one to bear the cost of that, even if the power had not even been used against her. The pain that she felt when she was close to that Light Nexus, it was the same.

But she had been on Maramere before, and had not experienced it at any point. To understand why, would've taken more time than they had. It was by pure luck that her sister, Knight Commander [member="Madalena Antares"], had a small box with Force suppressing collars in it – something she'd kept since she was kidnapped and taken to Rishi during her own early months. The keys on the locks had been destroyed; anyone could put it on or off at will.

And the collar provided the protection. While it was around Scherezade's neck, the Light Nexus could not harm her. And still she looked down at her fingers, missing the feeling of the Force that ran through them, annoyed by her lack of ability to smell her sister's blood anymore, knowing that once they were on the ground, she would not be able to scent anyone.

By luck, Scherezade and Madalena had landed safely just before the summons to gather at the Courtyard were sent out. Giving her sister a quick kiss on the cheek, Scherezade left Madalena alone. She wasn't a Knight Obsidian exactly… But although she'd been moved to the Ministry of Secrets, Scherezade's cover was pretending to be a Pathfinder. Being here was as natural as it could be, and kept appearances up.

And such, she made her way, occasionally grumping as it wasn't really fun to move with an injured body without having access to the Force to make up for it.

Yet despite that, the glow of her eyes did not waver; they were as bright as always.

 

[Tallara]

Tag: Open
Location: Moorwood Peak, Tanaab, outside a medical tent
Equipment: Knights Obsidian standard armor, armorweave body glove, .48 cal Enforcer slugthrower pistol, DL-44 blaster pistol, songsteel vibroblade

Change is in the air.​

Tallara was late to the party.

The woman had been on her own assignment during the attack on Tanaab. She wasn't a fan of the United Clans of Mandalore, but not many in the CIS were. She could respect their codes and ideals, but it seemed that what had happened here was the fault of both sides. When civilians were involved things seemed to get messy. In fact, whenever more than one person was involved it would get messy.

But there she was, sitting outside a medical tent filled with messy people who were there because of a messy situation. Perhaps she didn't know the whole story, but if she was being honest with herself she was only concerned about the Knights. The Mandalorians and CDF could lick their wounds on their own, but it stung that she couldn't help her brothers and sisters in arms now. It stung that she couldn't figure herself out long enough to help; to heal. There were few in the galaxy who understood, and it just so happened that one of them was there with her on the peak.

She could only wait and find out what was in store for the Knights.

 

[Madalena Antares]

Madalena shook her head as her sister left her behind, walking back into the ship in order to get a collar for herself as well. While she'd had no actual time to mention it, she had begun to feel bad when they had broken atmosphere for the first time, but it was nothing compared to what her sister had gone through.

Seated back inside, the curvaceous woman made sure to send a list of known planets with Lightside Nexuses to her sister's ship to avoid them in the future, and made a mental note to send her a few of those Force Suppressing collars as well.

Coming to Maramere, she thought, had been a solid choice; many of those that had served to buff the number of the Confederacy's military and needed help could get that help here. Yet, it was hardly a secret that many of the Force Users leaned darkside; so why were they all there now? Shaking her head, she grabbed some collars to bring with her for later; there would probably be others caught unprepared.

A moment later she was already out of her ship, and walking towards the courtyard. Her armor, the standard issued Knights Obsidian Strike armor, its leather made a deep red for her, was dirty with the remains of Taanab; there had been no time to get it properly cleaned. But it was of no matter; they would arrive at the meeting they had been summoned for, and then go take care of an ever growing list of things they had to do.

 

[Taramaz Arcturus]

| [SIZE=10pt]Sith Lord[/SIZE] | Blood of the Count |​

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

By the time Executor's Scimitar broke the atmosphere, and landed at the Knights Obsidian Camp, he was already feeling the effects of the Light Nexus. If it hadn't been for the highly-classified Project he'd been a subject of, he wasn't sure he'd be able to take it. Even then, his nerves were burning, his body was burning, and he could feel something dark and evil squirming around in him, like the shadows of the Dark Side he carried for as long as he'd been alive were trying to get out. For lack of anything to calm himself, he merely grabbed his saber from the desk, and took deep breaths, alot of them. Eventually, he numbed the weakened pain furthe, to the point of it being bareable.

He then walked out of the main cockpit, and hit a button, lowering his ship's ramp. He marched down, out of his loyal ship, and was quickly informed by a younger Knight to head to the Atrium near the core of the planet, on orders from the Dominus Prime. He waved the Knight off, with an understanding nod. He took steps into the camp, then stopped. He summoned the burning pain back, and used it to fuel his powers. Scouring the camp with the force for a familar lady. Minutes later, he was walking in [member="Scherezade deWinter"]'s direction.

He walked up behind her, sealing the pain away, deep within, and focused on the present. He walked up, standing beside the lady.

"Pathfinder deWinter, or may I call you Scherezade? A pleasure to see you here again. How are you coping with the..."

He stopped, and spat some red liquid into the ground, in disrespect, and disgust, in reference to the Nexus.

"Nexus."

He said it with a growl. He had not sought her out for no reason. He had sought her out because she was one of the few who had seen the true, full extent of his Dark Side, on Trenwyth, when they had hunted the Fallen Jedi. And he also knew of her darker nature. More importantly, she was a friend. Someone he could trust, and hopefully, receive the same trust and friendship in return.

He turned his head to the left, looking slightly down at her, due to his rather large size. He gave her a faint smile.

"Been awhile since I've talked with you, thought I'd better atleast say hello."

He, for the most part, appeared seemingly-unaffected by the Nexus' influence, something that was most strange, when considering his true nature.

 

[Alwine Daye]

[member="Tallara"]​

The petite blonde made her way through the crowds, sometimes needing to push or elbow her way through a little. She had never seen so many of them gathered in one place; not just the sick and injured, as those were to be expected, but so many of the Knights Obsidian. When had their number swelled this much? On any mission that she could remember having gone on, there weren't this many of them present. And even at times when they convened…

Part of the youngest Lechner Obsidian wondered if they truly needed to have such large numbers. Her opinion on war and the Confederacy's doings so far outside of its borders was… Well, not really well known, as she had never spoken to anyone about it at any depth. And while she had been every front to aid after said wars took place, she was far from seeing the necessity in the actions that led to that.

And here they were all now. All those who were able bodied were making their way to the courtyard. A sea of some of the deadliest combatants the 'verse had to offer, all working together with unity. A force that could be used to be good, to be bad, to be efficient, to be brutal. To help.

That was why she was here, wasn't it? The help part.

Alwine sighed and continued to move with the crowd. The entire way to the courtyard was littered with medical tents, trying to offer the countless of injured as much as silence and privacy as they could give them. Normally, the five foot woman would not pay them too much attention unless she was directly coming to work in them, but it was the sight of a blue skinned woman with… A tail? That caught the Lupine's attention. She seemed to not be injured to the point of being immobilized. But then if that was truly the case, why was she merely sitting there?

Pushing against the stream of moving bodies, Alwine made it out and walked towards the woman, her brown eyes looking at her with the curiosity of a wolf.

"Are you all right?" she Executor asked. The wolf inside her gave a bark beneath her skin, but she ignored it. The woman was much more curious than the wolf at that moment.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

[member="Taramaz Laurs"]​

​

Scherezade was feeling grumpy. It was one thing to find herself from time to time in a situation that severed her from the Force; force knew (pun very much intended) that she had trained herself almost o death in order to be a capable combatant both with and without the Force. When you fought Mandalorians, or ended up being kidnapped so you'd participate on a reality holovision show, or ended up being kidnapped and tossed on Rishi, or ended up being kidnapped by a slaver, or ended up being kidnapped… Okay, too much kidnapping.

The point though was, that in all those 'ended up being kidnaped and…' occasions (+ Mandalorians), being severed from the Force had never actually been her choice. She learned, she adapted, but… She hated the fact that she had to sever herself just to be here. Especially when considering that her presence was far from mandatory. Maybe she should have just pushed her sister out of the ship when it was still in orbit and let her handle it herself. Nah.

Of course, being severed from the Force meant that the Sithling was not tapped into her Force Sense, and thus had no clue who was next or around her unless she actually saw them.

So it was a surprise when someone called her, and she turned her head, her grump turning into smile when she saw Executor Laurs. The two had met some time before, on a joined mission to take out some rabid Jedi who'd turned their backs on their order. Normally, it would not have been a Knights Obsidian sanctioned mission, but in their case, they had also begun to kidnap and enslave people, and that made them very much their business.

"Sure," she answered the name question with a little smile. It was always easier for her to respond to people using her first name rather than a title anyway. It was probably yet another reason that she would be unfit to go home and... No, she was not going to think about that.

To the growl he made, she could only nod. They were on the same page, then, though she couldn't see anything Force-severing on him, and she knew he was a Sith.

"When we broke atmo, I felt as though I was dying," she explained, "everything inside of me felt like it was burning and tearing apart. My sister was with me and there was nothing she could do to help. It was only with time that we hit outside of orbit and I could somehow calm down."

Looking up ahead, Scherezade shrugged. "Guess I should've checked if this Jedi world had a Lightside Nexus on it before coming here," she turned to look at him again, "but you don't seem to be suffering, Taramaz. How are you handling this stupid nexus thing?"

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx | TAGS: N/A​

Anger.

Death.

Confusion.

Darkness.

There were several words which could describe the various emotions Gerwald was processing since the day he felt something inside him break and shatter. [member="Naedira Darcrath"] had been part of him since their first meeting. The meld which had bonded them mentally for battle had left the unintended consequence of a force bond, one which made it impossible for Gerwald to lie to the woman. Moving in battle as though they were one had made them one from a certain point of view, and in a deeper way than Gerwald could say about anyone else he knew. Even Alwine had not gotten as close despite their sibling familiarity.

Void.

It wasn’t so much that she was gone, or that Gerwald had felt the bond shatter when she passed. There was a lingering emptiness, a black hole like void which pulled everything else Gerwald wanted to feel from the surface and left him numb on the outset. Something was terribly wrong and in what was his own desperate attempt to keep from drowning, Gerwald agreed to meet with the others.

He saw his sister, [member="Alwine Lechner"], but did not go close. If she were to try and read him she would feel his distance, a message to her that he did not wish for her to approach. Maybe she would understand now that they had overcome his sudden abandonment over a year prior, but Gerwald needed for her not to pry for once. He knew she would try and stop him from doing the one thing which consumed his thoughts.

Revenge.

He was not strong enough to face the Sith which had destroyed his friend. “Friend.” That word was not enough to describe the depth of the bond they had shared, nor the feelings which Gerwald had developed as a result. The wolf knew he should not have allowed them, but they had come regardless. He knew her feelings and desires were for another, and so Gerwald had remained silent. Perhaps he should have given voice to them, that night they danced after Eshan, perhaps when he first realized. The guilt of having been absent from Eshan was only compounded by the fact he had not been able to save her once again. It was an all consuming thought which drove him toward the desire to find and eliminate @Darth Prazitus. Gerwald buried the thoughts deep. This wasn’t the time or place to give them light, but the day would come soon.

Today was about something new, or moving on. Gerwald was not good at either. It had taken him long enough to realize that Katrine was gone, and after having moved on from the entire ordeal from the previous year, Gerwald was barely in a place where he could think about new. He knew that he needed to expand his reach and influence in the CIS. The Knights Obsidian had given him the training he needed, the understanding of the force he didn’t once have. It was time to repay that with a stronger devotion. How? That’s what this meeting was supposed to be about, and yet, Gerwald did what he always did. He was in the back, observing everyone. Naedira was not there to pull him into the fray, so in the background he hid, as much as a six foot and seven inch beast of a man could.

 

[Luca Donskoi]

[SIZE=11pt]Location: [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Moorwood Peak, Monastery[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=11pt]Tag(s):[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] [member="Adron Malvern"] | Anyone is welcome to join[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=11pt]He wasn’t one of the many legs of the Knights Obsidian by any consolation of the phrase, yet the man who had come through much discourse in his life to be brought to where he was now in the upper echelon on the Confederate Navy’s ranks now found himself passing through the stone laden walls of the sect’s very headquarters on Monastery, Moorwood Peak. But what had brought him here? What had brought him to mingle with those of this specialized order? Why now in a time where many that called Confederate held territory home were licking at their wounds in the aftermath of war? [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Why here? Why now?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Perhaps in time, those very questions would find their own answers, but for now, they lay separate from one another. Longing to be united, but beyond each other’s embrace.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Among the winding halls and extravagant architecture brilliance of the sanctum that served the order, Alden found himself wrapped in a warmth not completely unknown to him, but with a burning intensity he’d never confronted before. It was different - very different - from what he’d grown accustomed to since that fateful day in which he’d accepted the grueling tasking seeing him vow to embrace Adron’s teachings in the Force. The lessons had come and gone as time continued on its unrelenting course. Never slowing. Never hastening. Simply remaining the same, adhering to an untamed, yet determined and steadfast pace. Time, itself, had been the only constant in his life since that day. Everything else seemed to remain in a state of flux, constantly changing and presenting newer and newer challenges. And each challenge was different in nature than any that had come before it. And it wasn’t just the training that had seen to this, but in his duties to the Confederate Navy as well where he’d seen a rather quick and stately elevation from Colonel to High Marshal of the Core Armada. A promotion which he’d turned away from the pomp and circumstance of such a monumental progression in his naval career among the Confederacy’s ranks. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]But his formal position among the Confederacy’s tiers played no role in his presence here. At least not on this day. No, this fell toward that ever evolving relationship between Master and Apprentice.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]There was always a purpose in every move his Master, [member="Adron Malvern"], had made in the furthering of his training in the Force. And although he’d not always seen eye-to-eye or agreed with certain approaches his Master had proposed or offered in his direction, there had always been a lesson to be learned in each task. No matter how menial the task may have seemed at that time. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Passing through the hallways and atriums, Alden took every chance to observe and bask in the magnificence the Obsidian Headquarters ushered upon him. All the while, he still embraced the warmth inherit in the particular strength this place offered him and others gifted enough to possess the ability to manipulate the Force as his Master had taught him to do.[/SIZE]

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal looked over at Pomsty, her grimace managing to form a smile on her black lips. There she was. In all the commotion of the Mandragora and the time needed to create the Water of Life, Vytal hadn't much time to coordinate with the Nightsister she'd grown up with for a time. Her hand cradled the potion the other Nightsister offered. Turn to stone? That drew up recollection of something Pomsty had said once before.

As Pomsty strode deeper into this foul monastery, Vytal followed. She had been content to remain that far back as the cloak of understanding did not protect her from the 'splendor' of the Winged Goddess. Strange her presence should be so keenly felt here. To her knowledge there was no such place like it on Dathomir. Had the women that still followed the Book of Law fallen so far from grace? "This is the 'Light' you spoke of?" Vytal bared her teeth under its searing gaze. "How is the presence of the Winged Goddess here, Pom? I have never felt anything as repulsive as this on Dathomir." Had the Fanged God claimed the entire world, and the Winged Goddess moved elsewhere? Balance could be brought over a larger scale than just one world, she supposed; and this planet was far from home. "I see now why the Mothers scorn those that follow the Book of Law."

Even so, could this power be harnessed? Was it wrong for a Child of Darkness to contemplate using the adversary's own strength against them? Surely not, so long as they did not let their hearts become corrupted and stray from the path. Was this what hushed words of 'gray' and 'neutral' were? A manifestation of using both sources of power from this...Force. Combined with magick such a practitioner would be strong. Undoubtedly this is why people sought Dathomir out, but most only heard, and did not listen.

Tag: [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Rience]

Despite the bonfire, Hashim felt the cold.

It was not as if the chill of the mountain's peak had somehow pervaded the mighty stones of the Atrium. Far from it. Rather...the shoulders of all who heeded his call were encumbered. One by one, the Knighthood filed into the room - some taking seats upon the hewn stones whilst others stood. One by one, they looked upon the one chosen to lead them. And as he stared back, the faces were different, but the feeling was the same. There was no mirth bubbling underneath the surface. There was only fatigue. Pain. Confusion. And for many, Numb.

For Hashim to not have felt as much as to been a man blind.

He waited several moments until the shuffling of feet had drawn to a close. Some who had known each other began to reach out, quietly speaking as the collective awaited the cause of the meeting. However, as it became apparent that those who could arrived had, Hashim raised his hand. The motion was a simple one - yet it was coupled with thunder. The baritone of his voice erupted into being, echoing forth off the vaulted walls.

"My name is Hashim."​

"And, up until moments ago, I stood as you all did. Fresh from Tanaab, I licked my wounds as you. And I wondered...what Hell would tomorrow bring? Would I manage to survive it? Yet as I said among the tents, it fell upon my shoulders to give us all the answer. As some of you may be aware...Dominus Prime Elessar Talon suffered great injury during the battle. And though he survived, and though his fighting spirit is as vibrant as ever...his body is no longer fit to adequately serve as our leader."

"Therefore, he entrusted the duty to one he trained and molded himself." His hand lowered thus and rested briefly upon his chestplate. "Thus, I have called us all together to answer that very question. Tomorrow will be different than every day before. Until now, we have been nothing more than the Force-wielding blade of the military. Tasked with cutting out political corruption and acting as judge, jury, and executioner across the Southern Systems. At a moment's notice, we are cast into the fires of war, with no agency except chain of command."

"My first act as leader of this Knighthood is to end this system once and for all. The Knights Obsidian will no longer exist as an arm of the military, but as its own sovereign order. I am certain this move will be met with opposition from every corner of the government, but I will bear that burden gladly. We, as one order, will determine our fate. We will serve the people of the Southern Systems first. And should the call for war be made, we will decide how we answer. Never again will any of us wonder what tomorrow brings, for now we have a Voice."

He paused, only for a second Thunder to erupt within the Atrium. His armored hands clapped together thrice - and by his command did new light spring into being. Behind him, many statues lined the walls of the Atrium. Yet only three saw fires spontaneously Erupt into being. Three Flames. Three Bodies of the Knights Obsidian.

"Our separation from the Defense Force will require a reformation of how we exist as a whole. Everything about us was built upon a military foundation - but no more. We will exist better than approximate equals serving in special operations. We will forge thriving communities within our body - we will become a Family. From here forward..."

"Those trained in the handling and care of relics ethereal will stand as one with those who have mastered them. Under the name Mandragora will the Archivists now stand, together as one. In doing so, there will be true mastery of all ethereal things which come before us."

"Those trained in the art of subterfuge and reconnaisance...never again will feel abandoned. Or alone. Though you will go behind enemy lines, you will do so knowing that reinforcements are but a flare shot away. The Pathfinders will no longer throw themselves into deep cover without proper support. Rather, they will be the Vanguard of the Knighthood. And should any call, we shall come running."

"Those trained to be soldiers and nothing more will stand as one with those expected to protect and to build. No longer will we train our own to blindly fight and to blindly die. From thenceforth, this new congregation of Executor and Adjudictor shall be known as the Wardens. And together, you shall fight for the people - but also one another."

He was certain that there would be concern. Of course there would be. But the latter half of his reforms required the assistance of his direct peers: Masters of the Force.

"Before I go any further..."

Masters of the Knights Obsidian, Step Forward."​

[member="Alwine Lechner"] | [member="Krystal Estain"] | [member="Kurenai Yumi"] | [member="Vytal Noctura"] | [member="Pom Stych Tivé"] | [member="Mara Denko"] | [member=Josiah] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member=Tallara] | [member="Madalena Antares"] | [member="Taramaz Laurs"] | [member="Gerwald Lechner"] | [member="Alden Akaran"] ​

 

[Kurenai Yumi]

A crowd, a gathering, a single hand standing out for all to see, she knew what was coming, it wasn't hard to get an idea, the flames of the bomb fire giving the area a very primal lighting, flicking over the faces of those gathered here this day. It was an interesting display, of the amount of people who were in the order, this was among the first times Kurenai had seen so many knights all in the same place alone and without other military personal mingling. She looked on with a an expression of disinterest upon the beginning of the speech, so far nothing was out of the ordinary, yet another 'pass the torch' talks, she had seen it one to many times for it's flare to inspire her in any way, come a few years she bet such a ceremony would happen again, and again, for how ever long the knights lived for.

Things only seemed to get more intriguing as the notion to split away from the CIS became apparent, Kurenai cocking her head to the side with a peculiar glare, that would be an odd thing to do, many problems could arise. First being that the Confederacy was now without a force order of it's own to call upon when needed, no doubt leading to many problems with Sith and possible Ren, no doubt each would try an capitalize on the whole shift. Still, her judgment would be delayed, it would be interesting to see how things go and what changes would happen to their regular dealings, hopefully this did not bring about massive political position, no to many worlds would be pleased about this new development. Not that it mattered, if the new leader wanted to alter the current way things ran so be it, he was in charge, for better or for worse.

[member="Hashim"]

 

[Áine]

At first, the bubbling heat tingling on the surface of her skin had come as a surprise. Áine had never considered herself attached to a particular side of the force. If asked her grim actions were a necessity, even if she did derive an untold amount of pleasure from it. The young scientist on Thyferra, the gruesome Geonosian politician with the blood of thousands on his hands, the hundreds on Yag'Dhul that rained fire on the Confederacy... All were necessary deaths, were they not? Áine would have thought so but, as her footsteps carried her closer to the impressive Atrium Moorwood boasted, the light side had different tales to tell.

The closer she came to the nexus the more it burned.

It burned so much that she cast aside the thoughts of war that swirled in her mind as she slipped by the injured, but the grimace on her face wasn't caused by pain. Her twisted features were the product of a realisation that someone else was right. Kerstan had told her she was as dark as they had come, or rather that ''...because you are made of darkness it would always find a home in you.''. Her facial expression did not change as she fumbled for the thick silver bracelet encircling her wrist. If anything she was at least pleased that Kerstan had the foresight to predict she would be in pain. The piece of tech hummed gently as it burst into life, the instant reaction made the porcelain woman sigh with sheer relief. The pain was still there, but it was dulled. Now it felt more like standing a little too close to a raging fire, rather than sitting in the centre of it.

With her focus returning to what it should have been on, the lithe woman slipped through the Atrium doors just in time. Taken aback by just how many had answered the call it was a struggle to find a place to even stand, never mind sit. Instead, she hung back at the edge of the crowd, standing on the tip of her toes to see over the sea of tall heads. As the rumbling thunder of their new commanders voice spoke out above the hum of conversation, all went quiet. Nothing could be heard save for the echo of his tones against marbled wall.

When his speech drew to an end Áine cracked a half smile. Change was always prevalent when the hands that be moved power from one to the other, and this new Commander? His changes promised to be radical. Whether or not her fellow Knights would agree was a different story, but Áine felt the flutter of excitement that always came hand in hand with something new. The woman with fire in her hair was the first to break through the crowd at his behest. With over five hundred years of practice with the untameable weapon they all proudly wielded, she felt she had earned the right to call herself a Master alongside the best of them. When she reached the front of the gathering her painted lips worked themselves into a warm and encouraging smile only meant for [member=Hashim] to see.