Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Annihilation Final Eclipse | GA Annihilation of Exegol

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Location: Sith Citadel | Exegol
Equipment: Lightsaber, Voidsaber, SHT-26 "Bedevil" Heavy War Bike
Tags: Thomas Barran Thomas Barran | Aoki-Barran Mira Aoki-Barran Mira | Open


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Well then, things have changed, and it was now a winner takes all deal. But his mind had begun to come back to the single word that did not go in one ear and out the other; Barran. He was aware The Bloodhound was a Barran, he used his free time to go through records, but then never finished going in entirely which is why he scratched his head about there being two Barrans. He'll press the issue with Bloodhound once the fighting calms. Noting that he is one of many Justeeneses running unchained across space, he really couldn't talk. Still, he will mention it.

Keeping focus was paramount, as there was now the clunking of rapidly falling metal. He needs to deal with this more than anything because becoming an Ubese Pancake was not on the job description. So he dodged it, alighting on another now empty cage. A smaller abomination got hit by the heavy metal projectile instead.

All those millions of legs twitching uncomfortably just out of range were enough to never do this alone again. Knowing where everything was going, he'll be there to nudge it down the depths of darkness. Besides he lives for spreading fear. That's what his Master told him, between the brutal punishments.

He had barely dodged the arrow, but now he knew to a degree what he was facing no and needed to change tactics, bring his Lightsaber into play and be a little more direct. As the hands-off approach is no longer viable. Well, the Jedi succeeded in bringing Superious back down to a less egotistical level.

The time to fight is now and the dull surroundings suddenly shone with an orange-red glow as the Sith ignited his lightsaber, no more dancing around the light, no staying at a distance. A full-on brawl is what he is after.

Superious charged forward ready to duel Aoki, intending to kill her or at least try to.
 
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There it was. That feeling of resistance, however slight, from flesh and bone as her lightsaber seared into the witch's back.

Suddenly, that sensation was gone. Cora's blade bit through the canvas and sizzled against the muddy ground. The effects of the hallucinogen had largely purged from her system, leaving the Palawan to be fueled by a confusing feeling of empty anger.


The witch! Where did s-

The skin at the back of her neck prickled as if she were being watched. Cora tensed and whirled around, just in time to witness Starfall close up—the wild hair, the neon eyes burning with Dark energy, the tragic sort of beauty in her features and the immense sense of ancient power and insanity radiating from her slight form.

Cora had never been this close to a Darksider. Even when she'd cleaved @Darth Mori 's arm from her shoulder on Selvaris with Master Noble acting as a distraction, this somehow felt more intimate. More abjectly terrifying. That horror reflected like Tegan's own lightning in the Padawan's wide blue eyes.

Even if she'd been quick to react, it wouldn't have saved her from Starfall's surprisingly hard skull as it crashed into her chest. Instead of a sharp cry to echo the pain of her ribs snapping, Cora could only let out a strangled gasp as the wind was knocked from her lungs. Her jaw parted wide and her back arched disturbingly as the impact of Tegan's headbutt seemed to reverberate through every bone in her body, sending a scoring ache from her midsection down to her hips and through the joints of her legs. Even her own skull seemed to vibrate with pain and pressure as her vision swam and the muscles of her throat fought to expel the blood from her trachea. Cora's saber slipped from her grasp, hilt sinking into the muddy grime below.

The only thing that had kept her body from crashing to the ground was Tegan's hand as it wound into dirtied blonde locks, yanking the Padawan's head to keep her upright. Still dazed, a shadow of a grimace screwed her pained features as she struggled to regain her senses.

A light went out.

A candle she hadn't realized that had been burning this entire time, Valery Noble Valery Noble ’s presence faded from Exegol. Not faded. Snuffed like a flame, sudden and absolute. Even as she found herself in the grasp of a monster, feeling her Master's life disappear from the Force was sudden and alarming enough to inject some clarity into her mind.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Would the others have felt it? She could hear the rounds fired by Dominik, or was that the distant blaster fire of another nearby skirmish? Would he be receiving news of Master Noble's death over his commlink? What about the young Sith who'd intercepted Jand, would he be able to feel the soul of a great Jedi Master as it departed to join the ether of the Force?

Cora’s vision was beginning to stabilize, and her eyes rolled to Jand. She couldn't be sure of how close he was with Valery, but he'd made it a point to mention that he'd protect her Padawan out of respect for the Sword of the Jedi. Surely he'd feel the Master Jedi's presence vanish like dust in the wind. A sudden flash of crimson pulled her momentarily from those thoughts as the red light of Starfall's saber reflected against the pale skin of the Padawan's face.

This can't be the end. It can't-

Heart pounding, Cora's shock and fear lead to a surge of adrenaline that allowed her to painstakingly extend a hand towards her fallen saber hilt. While the witch was distracted in punishing her enemies, the Jedi's weapon worked itself free of the mud, finding it's owners grasp.

No quips, no haughty words. She didn't have the strength. Just wild determination and agony surging through her broken body as Cora pressed the hilt of her saber directly to Tegan's chest and thumbed on the ignition.
 


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Aoki Mira, or Mira Lettee Aoki.
Imperial Knight of the Empire.
Michael Barran's Shadow.


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Tags: Michael Barran Michael Barran Erion Justeene Erion Justeene Siyndacha Aerin Siyndacha Aerin Sahar Sahar


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The red lightsaber activated, glowing like burning lava in a cold obsidian cavern. As he approached, Aoki sensed something on her left and fired her arrow. Another blue clone fell dead as Aoki cast her bow aside and unhitched her naginata. There was no use using the pole arm she was less skilled at. While Aoki was a very skilled warrior, she was undoubtedly worn out from running and fighting through so many hallways. Not to mention, how emotionally drained she already was, despite hardly even addressing said emotions. And so, she was pulling all the stops. She intended to end this here and now, using what she was most skilled at. No more using the naginata she weilded as her primary weapon - her self inflicted punishment for falling out of favor of her family's legacy and breaking her katana. No more testing Click Wave. No more flaunting her talents to assert dominance. She was going to do what she had trained the most in. What she was the best at.

Since she was a child, she had been a talented duelist.

As Hazukashi and the bow clattered on the ground, Mira gripped her lightsaber and activated it. Against the Maw's orange and dark architecture, the white katana shaped blade was sunlight to the darkest forest. She darted forth, using the repulsers on her boots as well as the Force to aid her speed. And so, their blades locked in brutal collision.

The clash was met with the kinetic energy and power of both fighters in their rush to meet each other. Erion was physically powerful as their weapons locked. Using two hands to hold her lightsaber, Mira narrowed her eyes as she broke the lock. She started on her ferocious yet disciplined onslaught of attacks. Shii-Cho, the lightsaber style based the most on swords and martial arts, was her choice. A brutal and precision focused lightsaber style in the right hands, Aoki was easily beyond any student just just it as the "training" or "basic" style for beginners. No, she was truly experienced and took Shii-Cho to its deadly heights.

Just like she had every intention of ending it, the Sith did as well. He too was attacking with offense as his goal. Vicious, he too threw everything he had at her. The result was neither being purely on defense. It was a flurry of parry's and counter attacks. Both were equally attempting attack and having to protect themselves from the other.

Of course, the question was, who would slip up first?

Erion himself was very skilled by the looks of it. Even more, he was remarkable at adapting to how Aoki fought. If he struggled against her Shii-Cho dueling at first, it had faded as he got to understand her fighting style. And Aoki was unable to pinpoint exactly what lightsaber style he was using in counter attack to her own. Panting, Aoki realized that in her more tired state, she needed to kill him quickly. Yet even her dueling skills could not achieve it soon enough.

She started bouncing backwards, still attempting strikes but slipping into the defensive. Her throat was on fire. She was feeling the weakness in her body despite her efforts. And so, she rolled with it. She let herself start to appear weaker, hoping her enemy would rejoice and continue his own onslaught. But as she stepped back, she slipped into Makashi and started using one hand as she conserved energy. But she had a plan. Would Erion think this was it and move for the final lunge? Would he get hasty? Despite her disadvantage, Mira eternally appeared calm; not once giving off the impression of feeling, well, anything. But her mind was sharp still, and she waited for the perfect moment.

She suddenly snapped back into Shii-Cho, parrying the next attack with her lightsaber as she whipped her tanto out, directly moving to strike his lightsaber itself. It was a swift and speedy movement. The cortosis blade was drawn in hopes of short circuiting his primary weapon, which would immediately be followed up by a finishing blow to the nearest vital organ.

Would it work?

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The enemy fleet attempted to keep pulling away from Burtch's guns.

That was a mistake.

The L91 Turbolasers, L101 ion canons, and DI.101 corruption guns had far more reach than nearly any other turbolaser in the modern galaxy. That, and their fire control systems were far more sophisticated than any Burtch had ever heard of.

The average turbolaser had an effective combat range of 1200 kilometres before energy dissipation became too much of a factor. Long range turbolasers could extend that distance significantly. At battlefield ranges, the gunnery on a naval warship could reach out and practically tag anything within an average planet's local orbit. Burtch's guns took things another level further, rating effectively at extreme ranges. In order to escape the reach of the Ophanim Guard Star Destroyers, one would likely have to practically jump as far as outside of the lunar constellation orbit before the L91s, L101s, and DI.101s would start to see a reduction in output.

The fire control was another factor to consider. Provided by Likon, the Ophanim Guards were more than capable of keeping a high number of shots on target at the furthest reaches of their guns range. The Targeting Lazer, Targeting Computer, and Fire Control Unit were all build to work in concert for enhanced accuracy. And the T.E.C.M.I.S. software… well, that was the secret weapon…

The chief gunnery officer was proud as he spoke, "Sir, reports indicate that the enemy fleet is attempting to flee our gunnery and is taking heavy punishment to their flagship. Also, the TECMIS software is analyzing enemy responses to increase our accuracy." His chest puffed out with apparent exhilaration, "Unless they escape into the Red Honeycomb Zone, I don't see how they can survive this barrage!"

Burtch looked at his gunnery officer deadpan before he replied, "There is always a way, Commander. No one ever helps themselves die in battle, and an enemy that's backed into a corner is always the most dangerous." Burtch sighed. In his mind, he knew that the alliance flagship would likely figure out a way to survive this, but his gunnery officer was getting delusions of grandeur. It wouldn't take long for the carrier group to figure out that there was no simple way to survive the barrage without leaving the battlefield. So, either the enemy commander would get creative or…


"Continue the bombardment, Commander. Force them out of the system. Once their fighters are completely cut off from carrier support and feel that they have been abandoned, forcing the B-wings to surrender should not be hard."

Do you think that the enemy will actually try to escape? Shii-Cho asked.

It's the simplest way for their capital ships to survive. Explained Burtch, But this is a carrier group, so they are tasked with supporting their fighters. In theory, abandoning their deployed fighters would be a violation of their mission parameters. To abandon them could possibly lead to a court martial for whoever's in charge, if my understanding of Galactic Allliance naval doctrine is accurate.

So you're giving them a choice; Save their own skins and risk a court martial, or risk the turbolasers, and support their fighters.
Shii-Cho summarized.

Either that, Burtch confirmed, or the enemy commander will get creative and show us some new tricks. Either way, we see what the Alliance Navy is capable of.

Meanwhile, the battle with the fighters near the Final Dawn facilities raged on. Burtch's 15 squadrons of DZA fighters outnumbered the 6 squadrons of X-wing escorts. Combined with the elite squadron sent by Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen and the 3 corvettes providing gunship support, they should have little trouble in overwhelming the bombers. They whittled each other down as the battle raged, costing losses in fighters and damages to the Corvettes. If the carriers truly abandoned them by flying into the red honeycomb district, Burtch would demand their surrender.

Burtch decided to check in with Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen , "Regent, where are we at with the progress in evacuating the Final Dawn Assets?"

If his Dropships were freed up, another option would present itself…



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Caedyn Arenais

Guest
C

Caedyn Arenais stood with his Lightsaber held high and at the ready, yet a look of astonishment came over him as he watched the seemingly mindless and misguided Sith Spawn begin to rush Xiveros at the sight and scent of the larger being's blood.

Within a matter of moments, they all began to attack the vastly stronger and intimidating-looking Sith Warrior (Not a Sith Lord, though Caedyn couldn't be certain of that); incidentally giving the Alliance Soldiers within the Jedi's vicinity a moment of reprieve and sudden surge of courage as they all gave wind to their war cries and shouts of resurgence, opening fire in an attempt to charge back at the Sith Forces with renewed vigor.

"WHERE HAVE YOU RUN TO!? FACE ME!" Xiveros called out to the Jedi whilst trying to tear and maim the monstrous creatures from attacking him, deterring their fight and to Caedyn's advantage allowing the Jedi to steady his mind, focus his body and concentrate on what the Force was telling him.

"I'm right here..." Caedyn replied, calling out over the waging sounds of battle between the two forces, the Jedi Knight remaining where he had fallen back to, though he had considered using the time to his benefit in a surprise attack. Caedyn had instead waited for Xiveros to be freed of his animistic peers, who should have been allies of the Sith. Frankly, Caedyn wasn't impressed by their show of brutality, turning on one of their own. Were he not as open-minded as he believed, he might have even been encouraged to generalize among all the Sith, for being so similar in their thirst for blood, yet the Jedi knew better.

This one before him, however, would not likely see the voice of reason. Still, Caedyn had to try as the Sith had opened dialogue and the Jedi Knight had shown a sense of mercy in not kicking the warrior while he was down, so to speak. "Your own kind attacked you when your enemy chose to strike you with non-fatal ammunition. Doesn't that seem unusual to you" Caedyn spoke out, pointing out what he believed to be a flaw in Xiveros chosen side of the battle.

"You could choose to walk away here. This battle will not end well for the Sith, regardless. I do not need your blood on my hands..." Caedyn's left hand pushed the side-arm back down into the holster against his hip, soon to return to the lightsaber hilt and once more disconnecting it at the center to form two individual weapons; "But I will defeat you if you so force me to do so" he concluded, falling back into a defensive stance, one lightsaber held back high over his head, while the other arm extended the second weapon out on front of him, pointing directly at the Sith Warrior.
 


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Tag: Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka
Location: Edge of the Forbidden City
Summary: Approaching

The encroaching shadow, darkness manifest, a symphony of dulcet tones and cries - only silenced in the wake of his shadow. A great and terrible encore broached the battlefield and left nothing in its wake, as the Praetorians followed their God into the hive of unrest that one declared itself the greatest; brought low by their own failings, hubris, and the culmination of a broken alliance too shattered to sustain itself any longer.​
This day was marked, signed, in the shedding blood of veterans - a conflict that came from a conflict, echoes of murders and death decades apart. Today was not the mark of Solipsis, nor the mark of Carnifex, or even going back ad naseum. Today was the culmination of weakness, against the Sith, the Jedi, and the Imperials - because none of them could do what they had set out to do for thousands of years. So he would simply make this a day a marking of his own - to shatter the darkness where it felt most secure.​
Replaced by that which he has crafted, created, given genisis to over years - what he had bled for, cried for, fought for, and even died for. Now his corpse, that vessel which holds all that was left of the great defying spirit of the Emperor, moved towards Exegol with such an elegant gate some might assume he came for a ball, formal and regal in design. For him, it would be such an occasion - to let all who would witness him know what he was, what he could be, what was coming.​
He was the pale rider, the great deceiver, the darkness encroaching. When the Jedi Zark San Tekka would see him, he would know his face as all he had fought against - a life dedicated not to the death of the Sith, but the death of this man. He did not recognize his features perhaps, may have never seen the sharp jaw or metal eyes - nor even the massive scar that cut his torso in two, but he knew this man to be everything he struggled against in mind, body, and soul. Were it so simple to call this creature a man any longer.​
"Shadow and bone. Blood and flesh.", the Dark Lord said as a staff manifested in his hand from the black cloud that fell from his massive wound onto the ground beneath them, seeming to fall even through the floor into nothing beneath it.​
"I am Darth Empyrean, Emperor, God. I am here to secure the future of the Sith, and none shall stand before him.", he said without changing his pace towards the Jedi.​
"I will not play to your fantasies. Surrender yourself to my strength and serve, or allow your corpse to become my tool in breaking fate. Do not dally, Jedi, I have little time for matters of philosophy and ideology."​

 
He had succeeded in hitting her but not disabled her.

"What is the most important directive of combat?" Angus Bloodscrawl asked as he watched his son train against sensor balls firing weak lasers.

Fourteen year old Nathan Bloodscrawl did not break his concentration as he deflected the laser bolts with a temple guard Saber Pike.

"Survival."

"Oh? Why not Victory?" Angus asked, looking like a slightly older version of the adult Nathan would look like.

"Because one may win a duel and lose their life. Or their soul." Nathan answered, swatting aside a bolt.

"Yes... hunger for Victory is among the most pernicious and corrupting of desires that can permeate a soul..." Angus explained, circling his son as he fought the drones. "One of the oldest tenets of the Jedi Order is that one must be prepared to accept defeat if the alternative is falling to the Dark Side."

"Could there ever be a situation where defeat is worse than falling?" Nathan asked in genuine curiosity.

Angus was silent a moment.

"Father?" Nathan questioned.

"I do not know, truly, but I err on the side of caution and say 'no'..." Angus replied. "There can be nothing worse. No matter how stinging the defeat or how devastating, nothing is worth empowering the evil of all living things with spite."

Nathan nodded...yet for some reason a part of him felt internal disquiet at the answer.

The Sensor Drones continued firing.

"What is the secondary goal of combat, after survival?"

"To never meet aggression with more than the necessary Force to counter it until the time is right..." Nathan answered, blocking a succession of red laser shots.

"A true Jedi turns an opponent's aggression against them..." Angus emphasized. "They are not led by the nose by fancy displays and flashy attacks. Patience is the greatest ally. Rationality is the greatest weapon. Whether fighting one hundred lumbering fools or one swift foe, Jedi must remain in the eye of a storm, beyond crude things such as physical pain. To flow with the battle, no matter how cunning the attack, and see it for what it is: a decision made in a reality controlled by the Force."

Nathan pondered this as he swatted aside more bolts...


Nathan didn't react with aggression this time as The Chakram came at him, instead letting the Force decide how he moved and when.

He shifted his position, shut off the blade the Chakram would have hit, letting it pass by him...slightly.

In that same instance, he reactivated the blade he just shut off so that it would be within the loop of the Chakram itself, caught it, but instead of flinging it back at her he flicked the blade that had caught the chakram down hard into the floor, hoping to blunt and damage it, and make it less reliable should Quintessa Quintessa manage to call it back to her.
 
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Xiveros

Guest
X


Location: Exegol | Forbidden District
Target: Caedyn Arenais

He was given a choice. A simple ultimatum that spared the expense of bloodshed, a fight that could end with a word rather than longing to see life leave one's eyes. Xiveros was never given this sort of option, his purpose was an absolute - a singular unit functioning as intended, a tool.

Yet to him, she was his weapon. His strength.

Moving inward momentarily as if to strike, yet finding himself stopping in his tracks, chest heaving with venom and adrenaline; his frame visibly vulnerable, the rage began to dull within.

What would he do? What was the purpose of being given an option if his purpose was already determined? If the Sith were to be defeated as an idea and a physical entity, then he would be thrown away with them; buried, forgotten and feared all at once. Where was there to run? Could he even run?

Would he be hunted until the end?

This life was the darkest corner that few had the misfortune of sharing - shut out and designed to be a blight upon the stars, damned from the very conception and left unfinished. Futureless.

Xiveros looked down at his weapon, then to the Jedi. "I don't have a future. Do you know what that's like?"

A solid thud could be heard as the warrior's mace fell from his grasp.

"I don't even have her. I have nothing. I've seen what I shouldn't, what I was - who I was."

A low, deeply angered growl escaped Xiveros as his wounds began to set in. "But it all means nothing. Not to you anyway."

He was tired, numb.

"Just make me forget. Please."

Xiveros looked ahead. "I have failed again."



 
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//: Exogal, Throne Room //:
//: Vesta Zambrano //: Darth Prazutis Darth Prazutis //:

The conversation between father and daughter was beyond Quinn's understanding. She understood enough of their relationship to see where Vesta was coming from and how she had felt through their short time together. A part of the Echani hated the man knowing that the relationship tended to weigh down on her paramour. Even now, she could feel the pain washing over Vesta - but what hurt the most was knowing that she was part of that pain.

Quinn felt the shift in Vesta's stance and understood fully what would ease her burden. This galaxy wouldn't yield, and Vesta could never find her place there. As much as it hurt knowing that this was the last time Quinn would ever feel Vesta physically, she did her best to keep from crying. A hand reached out, grasping the fabric of Vesta's clothing; the Echani held it firmly, wanting to draw just a moment longer of the woman's attention. "I know," she spoke between them. "I know, and I'll never be able to forgive myself for that pain." She was a foolish and selfish girl, scared of her own feelings and the vulnerability she had shown Vesta. "I'll always love you more than you can imagine."

Vesta was right; Quinn couldn't follow her no matter how much she had wanted to. Fighting the tears welling in her eyes, Quinn smiled gently toward the woman that would forever hold her heart. "You don't have to hurt anymore; I wish I could make this all disappear. I wish we could run away and never look back to this unforgiving galaxy. I know there's no changing your mind," The reality of it all began to settle in, and Quinn felt her tears begin to fall and her knuckles turning white from gasping tightly at Vesta.

"Don't push me away, not now, not again. At least, at this moment, don't isolate yourself. I want you - I want you to remember how much I love you - and how much I'll always love you." Quinn wanted to plead with Vesta to stay, just as the father was. But Quinn had learned you could only hold on for so long. Wanting Vesta to stay was selfish and only caused the woman she loved more pain.

Her shoulders shook slightly as silent sobs hiccuped in her throat, but she continued smiling at Vesta. "There's no changing your mind, is there?"
 
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Location: Lightpoint station, Observation deck
Allies: Maw
Enemies: Jedi, Sith Valery Noble Valery Noble Kahlil Noble Kahlil Noble


Despite it all not even the souls of billions of Epicanthix, nor the aid of a Jedi Master in the form of Kyrel’s Mother could help quell such a darkness. Instead the darkness only seemed to lash out, Kyrel burrowing himself deep into the recesses of Valery’s own Mind with wrathful energy the likes of which no one has witnessed before. And when he spoke to Kahlil the man held an air of serenity and purpose about him. Kyrel was determined to take Valery with him if he had to, for nothing was more sweet than to take an old adversary to hell with him if he couldn’t gain control.

Before Kyrel could say anything. Show his defiance, his rage towards them all the man revealed a weapon. A blade cloaked in light, and just as quickly as it began Kyrel Ren was stopped. More of the souls kept rushing to and fro freely I disturbed on the path towards everlasting peace. Throughout the observation deck there was a calming peace that overrode the dread that had clung to the air. As simple as it was Valery was brought back to normal, and Kyrel was expelled and as it was he was nothing more than a shroud of darkness, a ball of black hatred that didn’t exist in a form anymore, but he existed only as a shape, a shadow that would try to cling to whatever existence he could.

Just the same pieces of that same shroud would divide itself from the ruined mask on the floor, and his saber putting his dark essence into these objects just as the ancient Sith of old have. The most powerful of these strands of darkness embedded itself deep into Valery’s mind. The only subtle sign was her hand twitching slightly before going back to normal. In someway Kyrel Ren wouldn’t leave Valery Noble alone, for the cost of such a victory against the darkness would affect her for the rest of her life as some part of him would always be with her buried deep into the vestiges of her own psyche.

Kyrel Ren the Maw’s Wrath and Master of the Knights of Ren was finally at long last defeated. In the touching moment between the two nobles a blue form would appear. The same glowing presence clad in Jedi robes with a look of peace and relief. She took hold of the dark shroud that was the remains of Kyrel Ren and gave both the Nobles especially Valery a look of gratitude. “Thank you…” She said in barely a whisper for at long last she could finally be at peace. The forms of the Epicanthix appeared behind her as of Miran would be the shepherd to show them the way to everlasting peace as these innocent souls looked on the two Jedi with the same gratitude that Miran showed. And just like that with a gust of wind the illuminated beings would slowly pass into the force along with the shroud that was Kyrel Ren for the dark warrior, world eater, and Maw’s wrath have finally felt peace at last. But it wouldn’t be the end to the grand vision of the Maw… If only now it would be the beginning of the end..
 
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Kahlil let out a weary sigh and practically fell atop Valery at this point. His blackened skin and dead eye met her gaze just as much as the still bright eye he had. He gave a sheepish smile. Nodded his head before turning his gaze to the souls close by. Watched them leave. The darkness wasn't gone, not completely. But for now, it was stopped. And they still had much to do. Using Valery as support he turned his gaze towards the egg in question and chuckled.

"Still weird it's called an egg, y'know." He flashed a playful grin, much as he could over the pain of his expression.

"Let's finish this."

Valery Noble Valery Noble | Kyrel Ren Kyrel Ren
 

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Exegol
Lightsaber | Outfit
Battlegroup Kenobi
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"Careful there, big guy..." Valery groaned as Kahlil Noble Kahlil Noble leaned on her for support. Her hand gently shifted over the burned skin, and her fiery gaze turned up to look into his eyes. Despite nearly being taken over, Kahlil was in worse shape than she was, but Valery showed no real concern and met his smile with one of her own. "The skin will be easy enough to heal but the eye..." It was strange to see — it was still there, but it wasn't as bright as the other, and it felt darker.

"We'll find a way to heal it, but it will be trickier." With how determined she was, though, there was no doubt in her mind that they'd find a way to do it. No matter how long it took, or how difficult it would be. But for now, they had something else to focus on.

"It's called a Force Chamber, but we nicknamed it the egg." She snickered and pulled him along. With a raised hand, she tapped into the Force to open it, and together, they stepped inside. Immediately, the Force felt far stronger to them both, but something about it was still unnatural to her. So many things were able to affect the Force and how it could be perceived, but never had she thought that something like this would be possible.

"Alright, I'm going to initiate the Wall of Light, but it might cause a lot of damage down below. You know what to do, hm?" They had covered the plan before, and with Asmundr Varobalder Asmundr Varobalder ready to call in other Jedi for support, it was finally time to bring an end to the darkness of Exogol.

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Valery's eyes closed and once more, her mind reached out to the planet below. She could feel the clash between Dark and Light; between the soldiers of each side fighting toward the end of the war. But overpowering it all was the world of Exegol — a vergence of the dark side that became the epicenter of all the death and destruction the Maw had unleashed upon the Galaxy during the Second Great Hyperspace War.

Finally, its corruption would be no more.

As Valery connected with the Force and reached out for its strength, large beams of Light appeared everywhere on Exegol, reaching up into the sky and piercing their way through the clouds as they expanded across the surface. Their power was immense and purged the dark side of the world, its people, and anything else tainted by it. From the soil to the Sith engaging her fellow Jedi — she sought to extinguish their source of power for good.


Like a flood, it will sweep down to extinguish the corrupted powers of the Maw.

But Valery could not do it alone.

While she summoned the Wall of Light, she'd rely on Kahlil Noble Kahlil Noble to be a shield for whoever needed it on the surface, as the immense power of the attack altered the weather and created violent storms that could ravage friend and foe. Simultaneously, this was no ability that could be maintained alone. She had left it up to Asmundr Varobalder Asmundr Varobalder to reach out to all Jedi, and request their strength to cleanse this world.

Only together, the Maw could be stopped.





 

Caedyn Arenais

Guest
C

The Jedi Knight listened to the words Xiveros offered, finding himself relieved to see the Sith Warrior willing to lay down his weapon rather than continue on in the needless bloodshed. Caedyn's opponent already appeared defeated, not in battle but within himself, and so with the heavy mace dropping to the ground, the Jedi also disengaged both of his lightsabers in a show of good faith and mercy.

"You have a choice, which makes your future your own to create. Just as you've chosen to lower your weapon, your path remains open to you" Caedyn replied, moving to approach the Sith with slow gradual steps. The Jedi didn't look upon the Sith with resentment or disgust, but rather his expression had softened and he felt empathy for the much larger male; This warrior was easily taller and much stronger in stature, whereas Caedyn's figure was athletic yet standing at an average height for a Human.

"This person you speak of, are they not worth remembering?" He asked, targeting the few words that Xiveros had spoken, those which seemed to hold the most meaning, uttered in the face of what he likely presumed would be his final moments. "Failure is not final. It is a stepping stone to future success. An opportunity to take from it, that which can strengthen your resolve" Caedyn expressed as he came to a halt directly before the Sith. He stood within striking distance and yet his weapons remained held at his sides, showing no further aggression, "The Sith would have you believe you are a means to an end, a warrior of war. Yet I do not believe your commitment to this fight determines your worth in life. Only you can decide that. Your actions, your values. What you fight for".

"I am here to stop those who would take the lives of others, many loved ones such as your own who have been killed in the war. There will be countless losses on both sides no doubt. A shame that others did not have the strength to put down their weapons as you have. Peace is so much more powerful than aggression. I hope that you will agree, with time" Caedyn concluded, moving to step aside and walk passed Xiveros with every intention of walking away, towards those who still refused to spare the lives of the innocent.

Something however stopped the Jedi in his tracks. There was a bright flash, a rumble throughout the earth beneath their feet, and a sudden explosion of energy that rippled throughout the Force itself. A wall of Light that would penetrate those bathed in darkness, those created by the Sith like that of Xiveros.

"Don't move away from me!" Caedyn shouted back at Xiveros, his hands releasing both of his lightsabers to instead extend to either side, eyes closing and summoning all the strength he had within to erect a sphere of Force Light, a protective barrier that would not only encompass himself but also sought to protect Xiveros from being disintegrated by the power that was now reigning down across the surface of Exegol.

Few would understand Caedyn's decision to protect the Sith in that moment, but in Xiveros decision to lay down his arms, Caedyn saw the potential for change. The Jedi hoped that there was still a chance for the Warrior to redeem himself, to find his own way, that which would not be disillusioned by the lies of the Sith ideology.
 
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Location: Otherspace
Tags: Keilara Kala'myr Keilara Kala'myr



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Mercy spat defiance back at Tu'teggacha, just as he'd known she would, and he only smiled as she furiously denied all that he had said. He was finished with trying to control her, finished trying to shape her into something he could use. To him, she was still weak; he had just gotten the reasons for her weakness wrong. She had always been at the edge of sanity, her mind steadily crumbling into a maelstrom of competing personalities. She had made her love for The Mongrel her lifeline, and then his death had left her even more adrift than before.

His tentacled grin spread even wider, almost impossibly wide, as he saw despair flash across her face. The unstable gateway he had opened into this nightmare realm closed behind her as The Manifold collapsed, torn apart by the internal failsafe the Taskmaster had triggered. Now there was no way back; Mercy would never leave this place alive. "I dominate the useful," he corrected, "not the weak. And you? Your usefulness is at an end. I unleashed you upon the galaxy, used you to destroy the Maw's enemies. Now I will destroy you."

Reaching out to the eldritch void that surrounded them, Tu'teggacha drew in the cold energy of the Anti-Force. While the Force was life and motion, even its dark side based upon emotion and vivacity, the Anti-Force was stillness, entropy. It was like the Dark served by the Sorcerers of Rhand, the energy of decay, the power of the inevitable heat death of the universe when the last stars would consume all their fuel and wink out. The energy was not meant for him. It burned inside, a cold fire that agonized, but he held onto it all the same. He would only need it once.

He knew how to use the Force to alter minds. With the Anti-Force, he would snuff Mercy's out.

"Don't think you will escape even in death," he burbled, a horrible Ebruchi laugh wrenching itself from his rubbery throat. "I have seen the unknowable gods of this dimension. They will consume your soul. You will never reach your place in the Netherworld. You will never see your Asher again." But as the energy built in him, fraying at the edges of his soul, he dimly sensed a presence building around Mercy. No, not just one presence - many entities, many spirits. They whirled around her. Where had they come from? He did not understand.

Panic set in as he felt those spirits strengthening Mercy, sensed her stepping closer. He tried to release the energy he had gathered in a dark wave, tried to melt Mercy's mind and flay the skin from her bones... but in trying to tap the Anti-Force, he had sought to control something beyond his power to dominate. Just like Mercy herself. The energy lingered within him, lapping at his life essence, refusing to come out of his body and destroy his foe. YOU WILL OBEY, he screamed inside, and by sheer force of will he brought it out, into his fingertips...

... just as the cold barrel of a gun pressed itself against the rubbery flesh of his forehead.

His glassy black eyes shot open, now wide with panic, with terror of the unknown.

"Wait-" BLAM. The point-blank blast painted the rocks behind him green.

-------------------------------------------------
~ It's over, ~ Kallan said. A breath he hadn't realized he was holding rushed out of him.

Through Mercy's eyes, he looked down on the corpse of the Taskmaster - that creature that had been so instrumental to the Brotherhood's reign of terror. Tu'teggacha had not killed a single one of the Maw's victims personally, but his gnarled hands had been dripping with the blood of countless worlds all the same. He had been the brains behind the Mawite war machine, the coordinator of logistics, the master of slaves. Every blaster bolt, scattergun round, slave-soldier, scavenged vehicle, and gene-twisted monster of the marauder tribes bore his mark.

Now the Ebruchi was dead. With him slain, the Dark Voice gone, and Exegol falling before the coalition of light, the Brotherhood was truly finished. Individual warlords would go on, and no doubt menace the galaxy for years - or even decades - to come... but the united Brotherhood of the Maw, the dark coalition of chaotic evil that had destroyed entire planets and forced the galaxy into an age of brutal war, would fracture without the unity that Dark Voice and Taskmaster had provided. The Second Great Hyperspace War was ending, and the shadow war was over.

Don't let the hate consume you. Stay yourself in this last minute, please.

Kallan smiled - and for the first time in a long, long time, it was a truly joyful smile, without the weariness he had carried for so many years. ~ It's over, Keilara. We did it. We're free. ~ He held her tight, face pressed into her shoulder, tears trickling from the corners of his eyes. He had been holding on for so long with nothing but burning hate and the faintest sliver of hope to sustain him, and now he could let go of both. Somehow, as impossible as it seemed, they had won. They were still standing, still together, and finally free of this grinding conflict.

The spirits that had once been The Manifold swirled around them, then streamed upward.

In the pale void of Otherspace, they drew together, forming a glowing door.

A way out. A way for them to go home, to where they belonged.

~ Are you ready? ~ Kallan asked. He smiled.

-------------------------------------------------
Tu'teggacha opened his eyes, but that didn't change anything. The darkness was absolute.

The last moments of his life came back to him in a rush; the coldness of the gun barrel against his skin, then an instant of sudden heat and pain, then nothing. The shotgun blast, traveling faster than the speed of sound, had obliterated his skull before he'd even heard the gun go off. In a panic he raised his hands to his face, wondering if he had somehow been blinded instead of killed... but no. His skin was intact, everything exactly as he remembered it. So why couldn't he see? Where was he? He didn't feel the chill of Otherspace. He felt... nothing.

Reaching out in front of him, the Taskmaster soon felt something solid - a flat, straight wall. He ran his knobby fingers along the wall, trying to see how far it went. Not far. Within only a meter or so it intersected with another wall, and that one with another. Fear built inside him as he realized the truth of his situation. He was in some kind of box, stranded in no more than a cubic meter of space. He could not even stand to his full height. There were no seams, no doors, no way in or out. There was just a blank, stony surface and the absolute darkness.

When he had been a child, the other Ebruchi on his clan's starship had shunned him. They feared his witch-like powers, his ability to twist their thoughts even without meaning to. That was why they called him Tu'teggacha - accursed one. They had beaten him, thrown things at him, starved him and driven him away. He had taken shelter in dark, narrow places like this, places where the others - larger and more imposing - could not easily fit. His childhood had been full of these same feelings - the feeling of being trapped and afraid.

He'd gotten his revenge on them. He'd gotten his revenge on the whole damned galaxy. But...

... in the end, he'd ended up right back here: alone in the dark, helpless and broken.

Inside Freedom's crystal, the soul of Taskmaster Tu'teggacha screamed.

No one heard him cry out. No one ever would.

There he would remain.

Forever.

 

"We definitely deserve a vacation after this, though."

“Kahlil’s paying.” Huffing out an amused agreement, any attempt at humor was quickly stamped out. Permanently.

Not for the first time a voice invaded her inner mind.

Sparing her counterpart a tense look of confirmation, her hand dove to reignite her saber. Green plasma piercing the stark gray abyss the two found themselves encircled by.

“You.”

It was perhaps not the wittiest comeback, but the adrenaline now coursing through her veins bloated out any impulse for snark. This was all about instinct.

And right now instinct was pushing to fight.

“Rhemti-” Voice surprisingly leveled, the cold look which she levied Nyaeli’s way was enough to indicate her next ill-convinced move. “Watch the dog.”

Definitely wasn’t a dog, but that hardly mattered to the padawan. It’d be resigned to the same fate as its master.

Grip tightening, she rushed the Sith.


 

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Hours Before The Dawn
Exegol Sub-Crypts

Two dark figures moved in silence, their hoods drawn over their faces to conceal their identities. But few could mistake them, for they towered over lesser beings, and carried with them a despotic energy well-known to the purveyors of the dark. Darth Carnifex led them down, passing through twilit mausoleums and ghoulish amphitheaters of burnished stone and amethyst crystal. Kaahlil followed, unsettled by the unnatural surroundings but steeling his resolve in the presence of his Father.

For the past several months, Kaahlil had been traveling the galaxy, collecting items of importance for his Father. He'd fought Valery Noble Valery Noble to retrieve one of these items on Vandor, and tricked Silas Westgard Silas Westgard on Ilum to retrieve another. Lesser artifacts he'd also come by, but they paled in comparison to those which his Father most coveted. He had not idea what they were for, but he surmised they were but pieces of a larger artifact that would perform some sort of function when combined. Father had been very light on the details.

Passing through a chamber littered with dusty bones, Carnifex stopped before a yawning chasm. Light could be seen emanating from below, as unnatural as the rest of Exegol. He turned to Kaahlil and gestured with the electro-torch He'd been carrying. "It resides down below, guarded by the acolytes of this dying brotherhood. Their numbers have dwindled to a paltry few, they should be no match for you." His Father had explained why He would not be the one to retrieve it, His yearning to speak with Darth Mori required what little time Exegol had left. The Alliance were closing in, and it would only be a matter of time.

So Kaahlil accepted this task with pride, eager to continually prove his worth to his Father. "As you wish, Father. It shall be yours." He bowed, falling to one knee in reverence. Carnifex only grunted an acknowledgement before moving away, leaving Kaahlil in the dark on the precipice of the unknown. He arose, looking down into the abyss. His hand gently touched the lightsaber fixed at his waist, the one carrying the crystal that his Father had taken from Valery Noble when she was His prisoner, the same one that Kaahlil had bled with his anger. He distantly wondered if Valery could feel the crystal, if it still called out to its former master.

But those thoughts were quickly banished, there was work to do. Kaahlil gingerly slipped down the cliff beneath him, and disappeared into the darkness.

When he next emerged, a long time had passed. His bodysuit was torn and blood seeped from shallow wounds, his breathing was more labored than usual, and he could only apply so much weight to one of his legs without pain. But he'd done it, in his right hand was clutched the artifact his Father had desired. It was larger than the others, and reminded him of an astrolabe he'd seen in sketchings within his Father's study. There were slotted gaps in the metal, where other things could be pressed into. This must be where the other items he'd collected would go, but the purpose yet eluded him.

Rising up to Exegol's surface, he could see that the battle had turned decidedly in the Alliance's favor. His eyes scanned the sky, and he could feel something building, growing, ready to be unleashed upon the world. He needed to leave, and his Father had given him permission to depart without Him. So, Kaahlil made his way to where his ship was docked, his Father's yet idle. Slipping into the cockpit, Kaahlil took control of the vessel and maneuvered it up into atmosphere.

A few moments later, his ship jumped to hyperspace.


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6th post
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-AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY-
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WILDCAT_ONE
TRIBAL-CHIEFTAIN OF AN-TUATHA
MAJOR-GENERAL OF WILDCAT DIVISION

SWORD OF THE WINTER

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Tags (Friendlies): Eina L'lerim-Vandiir Eina L'lerim-Vandiir Nukth Kelga'an Nukth Kelga'an Primarion Hiperius Primarion Hiperius FN-999 Veyli Xoxtin Veyli Xoxtin

Tags (Hostiles): Kyrel Ren Kyrel Ren Erion Justeene Erion Justeene Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen Khaostra Devoid Khaostra Devoid

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TRIBULATIONS OF THE WILDCATS V: A DEATHLY POGROM - PART 6
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SOLIPSIS BEACON-SQUARE, DISTRICT OF THE TITAN,
THE SITH CITADEL, EXEGOL (SUMMER 878 ABY)


'All right, I want a minute or two and I'll open a rift. In the meantime, those who come with us can get here.'
Exchanging one last nod between each other, though in readiness as opposed to the kindnesses in the shared nods from before, Gowrie and L'lerim-Vandiir set to their tasks in movement onto the next phase - letting the gravity of the situation weigh fully on their actions from that moment henceforth.

All that remained was the final leap of faith, that one intrepid step into the great unknown that would outweigh the importance of all the others combined, and as Lord Aron looked on the gathering of Goidels before him, he saw that same cold determination in every last one who stepped forth to hear him speak. Yet even with the void gaining height, width and mass behind their Major-General, the Goidels would listen, hearing the words of the Kellas before he led them all to the fight of a lifetime, the fight to mark their deeds apart from those of their Imperial comrades once more.

'This is it, folks! WHISKEY TIME, as I always like to say! To glory or death.... An' regardless of what the Heavens see, I'll fight every last second of it leading my comrades FROM THE FRONT - AS ALL THINGS SHOULD BE!!!!'

Bellows, shrieks and ululations rang out in joyous reply, telling of the many centuries of cultural tradition that made them, and as the Kellas' gaze scanned across the small mass of Tuaths, Highlanders, Woads, Carracks and white-eyed Novanians, he felt the formations of the histories that gave rise to all their ancestors. A strange feeling it was, and unlike any sensation Lord Aron had ever known by then, but in the moment his offhand grasped the hilt of the temporarily-imbued Sting o' Frost, Gowrie understood it was the magic within the blade itself that was letting him see it all like the most detailed of war-tapestries. A sign to tell Lord Aron exactly what he needed to know, revealing the sheer magnitude of their undertaking, revealing it to be greater than that of any other Goidel before them, a feat to eclipse them all.

'The rift is ready, Lord Gowrie. If you want to come, you just have to walk through it. The rift is small, it will close by itself in just a minute or two, so we have to hurry. I go ahead to secure the area.'
Watching as the Valkyrie stepped into the dark void behind her, the Kellas smiled in appreciation of the Saint's bravery, letting her vanish into the portal whilst calmly sighing with adventurous delight as the booms and crashes of the battle persisted around them on all sides. Then as soon as Lord Aron unsheathed his blade, the most vivid, intense visions invaded his mind, showing the Tuath exactly how far back it all went for the Goidels, taking Gowrie right to the very beginnings of his clan as if by a hidden flashback.

And it was all the fuel he could ever have possibly needed, all the spurring kick the Kellas needed to spring forth like a lion.

*'Gu sìorraidheachd, agus air'ais a-rithist! ADVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANCE!!!!'
*"To eternity, and back again!"



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6TH POST
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-AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY-
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CAIRN_ONE
RINGLEADER OF THE PELLAEONIST CLIQUE
WARDEN OF THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
DRUID-GRANDMASTER OF THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD
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Tags (Friendlies): Siyndacha Aerin Siyndacha Aerin Aoki-Barran Mira Aoki-Barran Mira Sahar Sahar Simon Meinrad Simon Meinrad

Tags (OPFOR): Khaostra Devoid Khaostra Devoid Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen Erion Justeene Erion Justeene

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BORN OF BRIGHT STARS VII: DANCING WITH THE DAMNED - PART 6
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WESTERN COURTYARD, INTERNMENT ZONE,
THE SITH CITADEL, EXEGOL (SUMMER 878 ABY)


'WELL COME ON THEN, YOU MALFORMED FREAKS!!!! SHOW ME WHAT YOU'RE MADE OF!!!!'
Whilst his comrades unleashed their wrath on the Hellish denizens around him, Lord Michael was unleashing a wrath of his own, though unfortunately for the Wanderer's momentum in these moments, the nearest foes around him were all trying their utmost to stay out of the reach of his beloved Mountainsong. However, this would prove to their great detriment, irritating the Imperial Warden to the point he started goading them all on, unleashing Click-Waves all around him in the spirit of time-sensitive impatience.

'Tell ya what, freaks.... I'll let you all shoot me, an' all at once.... Come on, weaklings. Its the only real card you have left to play, for goodness sake! So jus' get on with it already! CLOCK'S TICKING!!!!'

Some raised their barrels, and as soon as the first few blasters were shouldered in tense, fearful poise, the others followed suit like clockwork, completely clueless as to how the first few barrels raised so quickly. Not that they had any means of knowing, as all those who fell victim to this technique were much too dead to warn others of it's irresistible power, for none of the NFU-class would ever be equipped to overcome or counter the Woad's simple marionetting trick, for no such methods of mind-control were needed to achieve success in such esoteric endeavours either. And yet, making it all the more effortlessly perfect for the Wanderer was the understanding it would be much too late for the Mawites to do or say anything on the matter, and at the very least, until it was much too late to alert their comrades of the mistakes they were making.

'Gooood..... Now, READY - AAAAAIIIIIIIM - FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRE!!!!'

Then without so much as a word blabbered in protest or disapproval, the Mawite warriors unleashed the energy-contents of every blaster and disruptor they had at their disposal, still utterly clueless as to the true extent of their Imperial enemy's quiet trickery until the bodies dropped in their droves, effectively using the onslaught against them as all their shots were forced to miss their intended target. A freak turnaround that none could have foreseen, catalysed by little more than subtle Force-Wave manipulation of the air between the blaster-trails, and not a single shot would graze skin, hair or clothing in the process, nor had the Woad moved an inch in any direction for that matter. It was a faux-hubris, expressed before in previous settings, most notably on Lao-Mon against the Dathomiri sorceress, so it was nothing new to Barran to play into the hubris of his enemies in such a fashion.

But to utilise it in such a quick, frighteningly sudden fashion, this could only have become possible with the training and growth in power on Serenno, and the Woad knew this like he knew that night follows day.

'A little gift from a friend.... Enjoy yer trip t'the Nether, scum.'

But the citadel's defenders were still too numerous to stop there, so the Warden of the Imperial Knights set into his Makashi form once more, awaiting the next wave without so much as a worry for his own safety, as there was nothing of considerable threat anywhere near his evacuation contingent - nothing of gargantuan proportions for at least a few kilometres in every direction.

Time was on the Imperials' side, so Lord Michael remained firmly glued to the spot, letting his enemies make the most effort in their side of the struggle.

Even as a sizeable contingent of brutes were seen bearing down on his position, even as he judged them all to be larger and freakishly strong to boot, the Wanderer remained unperturbed in posture and expression alike, sensing not a single iota of effective Midichlorian-counts within the approaching mob as he smirked at all the potential fun he was likely to have with them. It wasn't only on account of the threats they posed as one massed entity, but on account of the punishment they were expected to endure also, as unlike the warriors from before, this lot appeared like juggernaut-esque gluttons for punishment in contrast. A wonder in the making for anyone fortunate enough to bear witness to the Woad's impending riot, but in seeing the solitary Imperial knight with bodies strewn all around him, it seemed the new arrivals also fancied their chances of prevailing.

Seemingly assuming it a safe bet if they all banded together to overpower him.

'HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUURGH!!!!'



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5TH POST
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-AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY-
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THE_BLOODHOUND
TRIBAL-WARLORD OF THE SCAR HOUNDS

WARDEN OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
GRANDMASTER OF THE TRI-LUNAR CLIQUE
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Tags (Comrades): The Mongrel The Mongrel Keilara Kala'myr Keilara Kala'myr Ardana Vorco Ardana Vorco Ronar Ronar Erion Justeene Erion Justeene
The Grunt The Grunt Armand Narrdrenn Armand Narrdrenn Kyrel Ren Kyrel Ren


Tags (Enemies): EVERYONE BUT THE HORDE!!!! JOIN - OR PERISH!!!!


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CLASHING SHADOWS II: FORTRESS OF DARK SAINTS - PART 5
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SUMMIT'S CLAW, MT. CERBERUS,
NORTH ARRUA PROVINCE, MAR'ZAMBUL (SUMMER OF 878 ABY)


Even through the noise, laughter an' fanfare.... It seems quiet somehow.
Serene, almost.

Is this- comfort I feel now?

Besides the big projection on the wall, there were other Holographic showings in the Hearthen Hall by then, with a fair amount of smaller plinths of multiple sizes watching events unfold, and all streaming at differing volumes as according to the importance of events unfolding on the visual feeds around them. The celebrations were taking on a new form by then, gradually drawing everyone's focus away from the inebriating beverages and drawing them towards the events unfolding on Exegol instead, representing something akin to a welcome change of pace for the Bloodhound as his gaze scanned back and forth across the gathering of Marauder elites around him.

'Lord Bloodhound, we have a feed here that you may want to see on the wall projection.... Its - its your brother.'

Though the unexpected always had a way of catching the one-eyed Woad on his blindside.

'Intriguing development to say the least.... Aw'right then - so be it.... Switch it o'er for us, Brother Ghoul.'
Barran remembered his younger brother, and though the earlier memories of the mop-headed youth and the shaven-headed Wanderer brought blood pouring out from his nostrils, tear-ducts and his ears in the first recall-flashbacks, the agonies of remembering the Michael from his first life had lessened over the years; but in the following moments, nothing would prepare the Bloodhound for what he was about to see, for nothing would prepare any firstborn for such revelations after being apart for so long. Just like with most intense feelings in those estranged from those who mattered most before, it would always wreak havoc in the souls of those with grievances still clawing at their minds most of all, but when Thomas was met with the broadcast visage of his brother, an entirely new sort of surprise began to take form.

From the offset, Michael appeared the older sibling at that point, though Thomas understood that this could only have been on account of his time spent in the Nether, stopping the clock on every aspect of the firstborn's aging-process until the exact moment he clawed his way out of the ground on Durace. Also making this difference all the more apparent was the fact the Bloodhound expected the Wanderer to have kept his head and beard clean shaven after all that time, but in seeing the full head of hair and the well-trimmed beard, the one-eyed Warlord couldn't help but feel a little confused as his eyes narrowed for further, closer scrutiny.

Facial-recognition scans were correct, and right down to last micro-percentile in detection exactitudes, and though it seemed like Thomas was looking at a younger Erskine, there was much and more of the Bloodhound's mother in this Michael he saw projected on the wall before him. Barran knew his brother always had latent, hidden powers of the Midichlorian sort; but in seeing the Wanderer achieving feats still too difficult for the Warlord to even dare attempting at that point, it shocked Thomas to the very core of his soul, snatching the words from Woad's mouth before he could even bring himself to verbalise his thoughts on the matter. It was all the Bloodhound could do to stop from crying out in amazement and pride, knowing how the others would take such behaviour, knowing how many among the Scar Hounds were actively seeking revenge on their own families in the civilised corners of the Galaxy already.

As the Marauders knew the brother they were watching would wish death upon their Warlord in turn.

Realizing then that Michael presented the greatest threat to his best-laid plans, an anguish began to burn deep within the Bloodhound's mind, and there was absolutely nothing that Thomas could do or say that would change it; and in time, Barran would find himself praying that his brother would see he saw in the Galaxy, hoping that his one and only offer would be accepted in the end. It wouldn't be easy, and either way, the Bloodhound would be putting himself at great risk, but he had to try at least. Either to become his greatest threat as a brother, or to become his greatest threat as an enemy, the Woad needed to know more than he ever needed anything else.

<"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUURGH!!!!">

Oh.... I see.
Fate wouldn't have it any other way, but I must try.

He's my brother after all, he deserves a chance at the very least.


'Looks a lot like your old man these days, records here have snapshots of a shaven-headed psychopath, ideal Marauder-material in all fairness.... Shame.... Still think he can heed your words now, Lord Bloodhound?'

From the lips of anyone else, it may have appeared as an insult, but to hear it from the lips of a Darkhan, Thomas knew the question was valid. Knowing that they saw the carnage leading up to the roar, seeing not a single blaster-trail landed in it's intended target-area, and in seeing the confidence and power the Wanderer carried in the years since the Bloodhound last spoke with him, it was clear that they felt that same anguish in the likelihood of facing off against another Barran - lesser though it was in comparison.

'We will see, Brother Dreamer.... We will see.'

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ORBITAL PRISON STATION, EXEGOL
OBJECTIVE: ESCAPE
- Damian Du Couteau -

"Your reward, my punishment," Alicio espoused, finding a grim, bloody smile.

He could feel the fear coming from his fellow senator.

Not that he was looking for it. Some things were just easy to sense, like a taste on the air. And it wasn't just from Damian. The Dark Side, and the fear that came with it, was a permanent stink around them, infusing every molecule around Exegol. Perhaps he felt a little bit of that fear, too, somewhere deep inside.

But Alicio felt something else, too. A stirring in the future, powerful yet gentle, like a southern sea breeze. The Force was shifting.

The Dawn was coming.
Alicio rode that wave of Light, dipping into it for just a moment, letting it refresh him just enough. He shut his eyes, reached his palms out, felt the pressure of the Force pressing against his hands, and slowly, deliberately, twisted it.

His and Damian's cells rattled open. unlocked through the Force. Alicio's shoulders sagged, and he gave Senator Du Couteau a wary, if relieved smile. "We need to find my cane. Then... we may have to improvise."

"I'd rather not be a sacrifice today. You?"
 

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