From the Ashes we Rise (Order of Ren)

[Kyrel Ren]

​

​

Bastion of Ren, Virgillia ​

​

​

​

Rain, the perfect setting for this day, as Kyrel landed a damaged TIE Silencer in the hanger of the Bastion of Ren. What had happened in the past 24 hours had shocked him. Through the Force he could no longer feel the dark endless abyss that was Sieger Ren, nor could he feel either of the Elder Ren, his sisters in darkness Decitus and Ara Zambrano, he could no longer feel them no matter how hard he had reached out. What did they discover on Lothal, what could have the Supreme Leader found in the temple? such questions were constantly on his mind, after the purge he had quickly taken a fighter back to the Bastion. Afraid and lost for perhaps the first time in a long time. His connection to the dark master was clouded, without no vision to guide him or even the other Ren, he feared most for the order.

Seeing the Bastion of Ren in his sights, he crashed right into the hanger, causing damage to the fighter, sparks and fire spewed out, droids rushed in immediately to put out the fire as Kyrel used the Force to push the hatch open, appearing covered in his new armor, but very battle damaged due to the Ren's attack on the Jedi Temple. Walking from the hanger along the stone hallways of the massive and guarded fortress. Kyrel saw faces of confusion on Disciples faces as one approached him, a boy no later then 14 looking up at the armored warrior, his tone filled with concern and worry, and a look in his eyes as if he was looking for direction perhaps. "My lord... Brother Kyrel??" He stopped as if he was hesitant to continue as if he was afraid to speak next to which Kyrel looked at him and said softly through the vocalized mask. "Yes, Disciple what is it?" The boy stammered at first but continued nonetheless, his tone filled with worry and fear. "The Overlords... We can't find them... The other Master's the council... The instructors.. Brother, they are gone. What do we do?"

His eyes couldn't help but widen, the Council and the overlords were gone as well. He looked at the boy and spoke in a commanding and assertive tone. "Listen carefully to me Brother... I need you to calm down. Wherever they are they will most likely be with Sieger. Do not worry, his will is still our will." The boy could only nod and stammer out "Y-Yes sir." Kyrel continued onwards to the throne room in an attempt to meditate on the Force and to find out where his kin was. It was not uncommon to see the Ren separated from one another during battle, but to not feel them in the Force. Sieger must have had some plan a special will only to be selected by the most worthy of Ren. He pondered this as he meditated in the throne room to where Sieger was often found. His fear started to calm as he thought rationally. The Supreme Leader did not leave the Ren no, he had retreated back into the shadows still remaining as the head while the man could focus on his goals. This had made sense given that he had returned to deal with the main threat of the Galactic Alliance.

He had felt calmer as the pieces came together. It was Sieger's goal to eliminate the Galactic Alliance and the New Jedi Order, but that was only an obstacle in his path. He had other perhaps even wider aspirations than that. Maybe even higher than being a face of the most powerful regime that has stood in the galaxy thus far. Sieger was still the Supreme Leader, he had gone back to being the shadow ruler that he was, but another thing still remains? Why did he take the Council, the Overlords with him? He could only surmise that he had special plans for the individuals to come with him and that this new path that was laid out for the rest. It was only a test of their faith and loyalty. If they had what it took to survive on their own as if it had been a limb severed. The more Kyrel became distraught with the Supreme Leader never being informed of such plans. For now, he had a new purpose, being a guide for the Ren, and to follow Sieger's will by serving the regime he had founded. The First Order first and foremost was still part of that will.

Kyrel did the unthinkable, as he slowly walked towards the empty throne. He was almost hesitant to even a single finger on it, it was as if the throne was Sieger itself, or carried some superstition that he could even be cursed if had touched it. No matter Kyrel inched forward before finally taking a seat on the throne. "This is necessary. The Master is testing us, and we must not fail. We will arise stronger than ever until the day we see him in the flesh once more. By your will my lord your will shall be done." He thought aloud before activating a holoprojector on the throne, which gave him all the information he could access within the Ren fortress. He pulled a message to transmit across the Ren strongholds, both Vader's Castle on Mustafar, and the Ren Academy on Skye.

Priority Message: Come to the Bastion of Ren Immediately! ​

​

The single message was transmitted across all frequencies to the Ren, summoning them immediately to the Bastion of Ren, that would include anyone from Knights, Disciples, Masters and even the Praetorian Guard. Kyrel waited for them to arrive as he unwillingly hoped that they could surpass the trials that their Master has given them.

[member="Varas Ren"] [member="Doran Ren"] [member="Oregano"] [member="Racosidae"] [member="Marriskcal Lati"]

Spoiler

Open to all within the Order old or new

 

[Doran Ren]

Doran winced as he climbed into his starfighter and plunged into the TIE/VN's seat. He breathed heavily felt his still burning chestplate which had been seared by the force lightning of the Sith on Lothal. "I would have slaughtered that bloody fool if I had some karking training!" The young Ren slammed his gloved hand onto the control console of his ship and began to grumble to himself. He had barely managed to escape his adversary and return to his ship, hopefully to go find some medical assistance. As he was going over what he had done wrong in his head as a device in his gauntlet chirped. He read the message with complete surprise, had something happened during my duel?

Priority Message: Come to the Bastion of Ren Immediately!

Without hesitation the Ren's fighter lifted into the air and began to cut through the atmosphere into the cold darkness of space. He punched in the coordinates to Virgillia and laid his head back into his seat as the ship lurched forward into hyperspace. He had lost his mask, his saber, and for now. His dignity. His hands balled into fists as he breathed heavily once more as he thought of the encounter. He attempted to reassure himself that maybe it could have given him the attention he needed to finally gain a master and learn the techniques so constantly used against him.

His ship pulled out of hyperspace and elegantly soared into the hangar at the temple alongside another TIE, a heavily damaged one. The young Ren entered the barren temple, there was no one there? However he could sense darkness brewing nearby, he closed his eyes and attempted to feel the presence. His lips barely opened as he whispered the name. "Master Kyrel..." Doran rushed down the corridor to find him there, seated in the throne of the Supreme Leader. Doran quickly knelt on one knee after approaching the Master of Ren. "My Lord, I came as quickly as I could, I was hurt on Lothal and had some difficulty. What has happened? I can no longer sense our brothers and sisters?"

[member="Kyrel Ren"] [member="Varas Ren"] [member="Oregano"] [member="Racosidae"] [member="Marriskcal Lati"]

 

[Eighth Guard]

​

The Eighth Guard, Praetorian Knight​

Equipment: Bilari Swordwhip - Praetorian Armour​

Location: The Bastion of Ren - Throne Room​

Status: Making sense of things​

Theme: Revisiting Snoke | The Last Jedi​

​

​

It was not the Order-wide message that had alerted him to the departure of the Supreme Leader, for he had sensed the lack of his master through the respective channels of the Force. He felt a tremendous void forming in his being; the Supreme Leader had likely taken the entirety of the Elite Praetorian Guard, and the rest of the Praetorians and Praetorian Knights with him, but why leave him, the Eighth Guard, to suffer alone in silence?

The knight speculated but did not question the decision further, for the Supreme Leader was wise in all things. No, he would continue his responsibilities as a tool of his master's will, even if he could not be with him. He continued to maintain this mindset as he marched up the steps into the Bastion of Ren, rain cascading off of his crimson laminate armour, his robe fluttering in the wind. When he, at last, entered the throne room, he had to suppress his conditioning when he observed an inferior man sitting on the throne of the great Supreme Leader.

The Eighth Guard approached silently, stopping when he was standing next to the throne that was currently occupied by the Master Kyrel. He did not speak, the Master Ren should've known the throne was forbidden to all those but the Supreme Leader. Instead, he stared directly at the man, an aura of reproach around him, while he cradled his weapon against the ground.

[member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Doran Ren"]

 

[ghostwrite]

Praetorian Initiate Hopeful
Location | Academy of Ren, Skye
Status | Calm and focused

As a youngling of the academy, one’s life revolved around their studies and training. Perhaps it was superfluous to say that one is always busy, but it was a day in the life of Marriskcal Lati. They were the future of the Order, and theirs were the arms that will bring about peace and order to the galaxy. It was simple enough to state that you want to be a part of change, but reality was oftentimes cruel to those without power or voice.

You have to be strong.

You have to be determined.

You have to be willing.

Thus, when one of the various help approached the youngling, they found her while she was doing research for class.

“Marriskcal,” Laecitia spoke in a soft tone to catch her attention, mindful that they were both in the archives. “We’ve received… a priority message.” While her voice held a tinge of worry, the blonde girl could feel her curiosity through the force. No youngling, even when they are verging on walking a path of a disciple, ever received a personal message. One that was marked as priority at that?

“A priority message? But that is…”

“Everyone that is of age has received one,” she continued glibly, pressing the holodevice into Marriskcal’s hands.




Location | Bastion of Ren, Virgillia VII
Status | Anxious, but trying to stay calm

Marriskcal rushed down the hallways of the bastion, allowing the force to guide her towards the collection of bright signatures in the building. Her eyes darted left and right, sometimes pausing as she passed empty rooms. Her fear continued to grow, gnawing on her psyche when no one reached back to her subtle force touch.

Something was very wrong.

She may be young and ignorant, but the damaged fighters that sat in the hangar, as well as the void of people in their stronghold revealed enough. Biting down on her lip in an anxious gesture, then mentally chiding herself for the juvenile habit, Marriskcal paused before the grand doors that would take her into the throne room.

Though nothing of her emotions showed on her face as she entered, the air around her were weaved with apprehension, worry and uncertainty.

“Greetings,” the youngling spoke softly to no one, her eyes flickering immediately towards the two forms ahead of her on the dais. While it would be courteous, and expected of her to show her deference, a sharp staccato of rage rang through her at the sight. What she saw before her was blatant disrespect towards their Supreme Leader. Marriskcal stiffened, her spine straightening even as a hand fell to her side.

The person on the throne is a much cherished brother, one that she has always admired and hoped to emulate. It made her anger burn all the brighter.

He should have known better.



[member="Kyrel Ren"], [member="Doran Ren"], [member="Eighth Guard"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Piloting a TIE Silencer, Varas landed more gracefully than her prime clone, Kyrel Ren. No Disciples scurried to greet her as she emerged from the hatch. While there was unofficial pressure to take on a fledgling apprentice, she had not found someone yet suitable. Or so that was her excuse.

The brunette Knight needed no message to summon her. She had been right behind the Master of Ren - her own Master, along with Sarethial Ren - until he careened wildly into the well-fortified docking bay.

“Where’s my father?” she barked to a nearby stormtrooper guarding the hangar, her head turning to take in the damage that Kyrel had caused. Smirking to herself, she knew of the type of wreckage he could leave behind and instinctively flexed the her left cybernetic hand, severed by Kyrel’s blade as she’d overstepped the boundaries during a naval battle with the Galactic Alliance.

“In the throne room.” And then the faceless soldier behind the ubiquitous white helmet asked, perhaps alarmed by her father’s violent entrance, “How did you fare on Lothal?”

“Very well,” was Varas’s emotionless answer. “We accomplished our goal and the Jedi Temple is no more.” She purposefully left out the part about the disconnection to the Supreme Leader and the vacuum in the Force his absence had created. No need to alarm the rank and file.

As she entered, a few had already arrived, including Doran Ren and two Praetorian guards. Her ardor to find out what had happened was barely contained, and Varas trembled just a little as she also took a knee besides the dark-haired Disciple of Ren. Some would interpret her nervosity as unsettled deference to the man upon the throne of the Supreme Commander, but to someone who shared his DNA, alongside a Hapan lineage, she was merely confused and conflicted.

While Varas should be outraged at the act of defiance by Kyrel, as she lowered her head, a smile tugged at the corner of her cheeks. Yes, her allegiance was to the missing Sieger Ren, but her utmost loyalty was bound to her father who sat calmly now on the throne.

[member="Kyrel Ren"] [member="Doran Ren"] [member="Oregano"] [member="Racosidae"] [member="Marriskcal Lati"]​

 

[Kyrel Ren]

​

Kyrel waited patiently as the signal was sent out, he had waited silently as one of the Praetorian Guard came, and then finally a Disciple with whom he had recognized as being present during the strike against the Jedi Temple. He had been a brave one and had even held his own against a Jedi. Even well enough to stand here even, the young man had looked like he did see some damage though. He couldn't help but grin underneath the mask. The Ren had managed to see the destruction of the New Jedi Order. But the price was them for to be weak in the end. For now, Kyrel needed to keep the Ren strong, and for right now he would not explain at least not till anyone else arrived at the Ren academy, he spoke coldly towards the Disciple. "Yes.. I know you were there. Doran is it? You fought well indeed, as for your question. I will explain when everyone has arrived I rather not repeat myself."

The anxiousness of waiting was bad enough let alone taking command. But order needed to be put in place, and Kyrel was the only one convinced to do that within the Knights of Ren. As far as he could tell he was the only current Master of Ren, the council left vacant, the Overlords were gone. He was all that remained. If he didn't do it, who else could? He couldn't even imagine if the Ren died off like this, and couldn't even imagine if it was him he would lead the Ren into self-destruction. No, he couldn't think like that at all he had to. He had to make sure the Supreme Leader's vision would remain even if he had to create the Ren anew he would. All these thoughts bounced within his head time and time again as he waited. Another that appeared was a girl no younger than a youngling of thirteen. Very young indeed but from what he could sense was strong in the Force, the Praetorian guard that stood next to the throne. Through the mask he could feel the guard's eyes on him, a mixture of disapproval, and anger. He briefly returned in kind only to keep watch of the door.

Finally, his daughter arrived, Varas was battle damaged but had looked remarkably well after the attack. As far as he could tell her loyalty was to him, and him alone. For that, he was most grateful for, and would indeed have a place in order to rebuild the Order. Feeling everyone's thoughts, some were mixed, some even hated him sitting upon the throne, and some did not even care of it. Kyrel didn't have much of a choice in the matter. He started speaking in a loud sinister baritone, his voice echoing across the chamber as he thought enough had arrived, if not more would arrive shortly. "As some of you know. You can no longer feel the Supreme Leader, nor the Council, nor the Overlords, not even the Praetorian. This has been alarming for many of you. I am along that same path, but do not be afraid our Supreme Leader is not dead. We would know of it if he was, I feel that he has gone back into the shadows to focus on his goals. With the Jedi and the Alliance destroyed and in ruins, and nothing to stop the Order from bringing peace and stability to the galaxy. Sieger has gone on to pursue his own goals, taking much of our kin with him. Do not fret as I believe his will is still our will, the First Order wishes to carry out such a will and through him, we serve the First Imperials. This will not change, but I believe this is his test for us. To see if we are worthy to survive as an Order. I refuse to let us die, and in order to prevent that...

He paused for a moment... His eyes behind the mask scanning every individual before he continued. "I am taking command of the Order effective immediately. Many of you find this blasphemous for me to sit on the throne, but I assure you I do not want, I never have. But order must be imposed, chaos must be stripped away in order for a singular vision to take hold... The vision of our Supreme Leader and I will make sure it happens. Henceforth I will be rebuilding the Ren anew. Stronger than it was in hopes of serving the Supreme Leader when he returns." He looked and scanned at the faces as he stood up, as he continued, his eyes went from the Praetorian guard to the two disciples, to his own daughter as he continued. "Knight of Ren Varas, through her skill will be seeing about being placed as a Master of Ren, and the new Enforcer. My right hand, as well as so, me of you as well may earn a new status within the new order. We do not have time to stick traditionally, for now, a couple of changes will be made... These are desperate times, but like a phoenix we shall rise from the ashes... Now if either one of you has objections, and wish to challenge me... Please go ahead and try!" He said the last words with a mix of sick humor, and irritability, as he watched to see what would happen next.

[member="Varas Ren"] [member="Marriskcal Lati"] [member="Eighth Guard"] [member="Doran Ren"]​

 

[Dirk Bannahan]

Priority Message: Come to the Bastion of Ren Immediately!​

​

Bastion of Ren​

Virgillia ​

​

​

​

She had been running late, casting her perceptions in the Force forward to try to make sense of this maelstrom of circumstance. Casting out and looking for guidance to aim her otherwise purposeless life. There wasn't really much motivating her now that the Supreme Leader had vanished. Although this wasn't the first time the order was bereft of His direct brilliance, this time felt awfully different. Usually Sieger Ren had a method to his secretive schemes.

Where Rae was diluting herself was daring to assume how and why Supreme Leader did anything.

It was almost like she had forgotten she was nothing more than a bug within the order. And it made her angry. So. Very. Angry.

So Rae, the Ren draped in blue, approached Master Kyrel while barely containing the desperate disdain crumbling the clarity of her will. She hated all of this. Hated that their father would fail at a time like this, and she especially the damnable group left here clutching at the pieces like so much shattered glass.

Far more wounded than anyone else in this room and bereft of weapons after she lost them during the battle of the Temple at Lothal, she limped in and gingerly took her place, hiding her scowl under the shadow of her hood. Pricking now, she paid rapt attention to the master's words, ignoring any other compatriot of the Order, expecting there to be clear orders... or else.

[member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Varas Ren"] | [member="Doran Ren"]​

 

[Doran Ren]

Location: Bastion of Ren, Virgillia​

Nearby: [member="Kyrel Ren"] [member="Eighth Guard"] [member="Varas Ren"] [member="Racosidae"] [member="ghostwrite"]​

​

​

​

Doran stood to face Master Kyrel as more Ren began to enter the room. There was a praetorian as well, and a girl no older than thirteen it seemed. Maybe this was all that was left. The thought sent a chill down Doran's spine. He looked up to realize something he was to preoccupied to notice when he first entered. Kyrel, was on the throne of the Supreme Leader. Doran felt a sense of anger and betrayal for a moment but quickly realized, maybe this was the Supreme Leaders plan. Although he had come to his senses he could feel hatred and anger overwhelming the room.

He could mostly sense the anger from the lone praetorian. Doran groaned as he felt the scarred leather of his suit where it had been thoroughly electrocuted. He needed a new suit, a new saber, a new helmet. His mind swirled with the thoughts of his defeat. And every time he blinked or closed his eyes he saw nothing but the purple lightning of the dark side illuminating the darkness.

It was taking over his mind, corrupting him, all he could ever think of was. Lightning. He shuddered as he came to his senses and looked around the room, now Varas was here as well. She stood beside him and listened to Kyrel as he began to address the gathered Ren. As Master Kyrel spoke he could see the Praetorian gripping his sword tighter and tighter. the young Ren could see what was about to happen, in a concerned voice he whispered to himself "No, dont." This caught the attention of Varas and the two locked eyes in preparation for the fight that was about to ensue.

 

[Eighth Guard]

​

The Eighth Guard, Praetorian Knight​

Equipment: Bilari Swordwhip - Praetorian Armour​

Location: The Bastion of Ren - Throne Room​

Status: Swiggity Swone, get your butt off that throne​

Theme: Marauders Arrive | Solo​

​

​

​

What the Master Kyrel was proclaiming was nothing short of pure disregard for the Supreme Leader's will and all he had built in the past years. It was as close to heresy as one could dare to reach in the presence of other Ren, not to mention the Praetorian himself. This man, this traitor, held neither the power nor the gravitas to take command of the Order of Ren; at any rate, he was a microscopic speck in comparison to the Supreme Leader.

The longer that the man spoke, the angrier the Eighth Guard was getting. Rage was too chaotic to describe what he was feeling at the moment, this was focused hatred, a need to enforce the traditions set before them by the Supreme Leader that had been so blatantly cast aside by some random master. His head did not turn but his eyes glanced to the side, allowing him to observe the other inhabitants of the room through his crimson mask.

A young man who seemed severely injured, prompting a minuscule pang of empathy ran through the Knight's thoughts for a moment before disappearing; A mere child, a girl who he recognized as an initiate in the Praetorian Guard; A woman who he remembered to be a clone, the 'child' of the Master Kyrel; Another young woman, who he did not know much about, how peculiar.

The Eighth Guard's eyes flicked back over to his mark as he altered his grip on his weapon, deciding that if the man could not understand his gaze, then he would honour him with the word. "You claim to be 'rebuilding' the Ren to better serve the Supreme Leader, yet you so easily decide to ignore the traditions, created by our master for a reason." The distorted voice of the Praetorian came, the hint of an accent present, "You are nothing more than a usurper, a parasite who dares to manipulate our faith, our way of life, to further indulge in your ambitions and delusions of grandeur. If you will not abide by His will, then you will die."

The Praetorian's Bilari chainwhip activated with a crackle of energy, the weapon swung upwards as the Eighth Guard leapt backwards, creating some distance between him and the Master of Ren and allowing the others to move out of the way, they were not the target of his contempt. He brought the weapon down on his own arm, pointing the tip of the blade at his quarry, sparks of red energy spilling onto the floor from the constant clash of energy and laminate.

He would deal with this usurper, the Supreme Leader's will would be upheld.​

​

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Praetorian Initiate Hopeful
Equipment | Training Lightsaber & Throwing Knives
Location | Throne Room, Bastion of Ren , Virgillia VII
Status | Determined

The enforcer’s deep voice echoed throughout the throne room, drawing the focused attention of every brother and sister within. Marriskcal allowed his words flow over her, trying to make sense of every detail and nuance that was being verbalized. As a youngling, there was very little that she knew. Most of their guardians and instructors were careful about the information that reached their ears. But even when they were kept in the dark, most of her peers knew that the Order of Ren had plans for Lothal.

And it seemed that her feelings were right.

Something has gone very, very wrong indeed.

A sick understanding washed over her as she swayed slightly on her feet, horrified by the implications of Master Kyrel’s words. Was Lothal a trap? It must be, or else there would be more of them gathered here at this moment. Celebrating their triumph over the much despised heretics, instead of feeling like they’ve just grasped a pyrrhic victory. Hollow.

This… This wasn’t how she expected her first journey off-planet to go.

The only reason why Marriskcal did not lose her tenuous hold over her emotions was the fact that their Supreme Leader has disappeared into fog and shadows, as opposed to being deceased.

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

As much as she wanted to press for a firm assurance, Marriskcal has been chastised enough when she was younger to know better. The Supreme Leader’s decisions, while seemingly improbable at present, will always yield positive outcomes in the future. It sometimes seemed to Marriskcal that Master Sieger was playing a peerless game of dejarik, where only he knew the rules.

The fine hair on the back of her neck rose as she felt the weighted gaze of Master Kyrel pass over her person before he continued to speak. Though a part of her was placated, it was still an irrefutable fact that the enforcer was still sitting on the throne, even while his strong words contained promises of order. Master Sieger’s vision. Did it make it less or even more insolent of their brother to speak the words of their continuity while he was presenting an image of a conqueror?

Marriskcal decided to take her cues from her Praetorian brother. He would know best.

It descended into chaos.

As the soon as the distinctive hum of the electro-chainwhip came to life, the blonde forced herself to remain still. Her heart was starting to race at the prospect of combat and she had to regulate her breathing, allowing the slow in-out of her breathe to calm her. There was never any doubt that she would side with her Praetorian brother, but Marriskcal knew better than to give in to her impulse to join his side.

She was no one.

She has only just started to take her first step.

Her presence would only hinder her Praetorian brother.

Think, Marr. Think of what you can do.

Her steel blue eyes flickered to the two figures, both who were kneeling to Master Kyrel earlier. There was one other, whose inclinations remained yet unknown.

Only time will tell.

She palmed one of her throwing knives and prepared herself to intervene.



[member="Kyrel Ren"], [member="Eighth Guard"], [member="Doran Ren"], [member="Varas Ren"], [member="Racosidae"]

 

[Armand Temi]

To Varas the scene was oddly reminiscent of her very first Ren gathering. She recalled the Supreme Leader was there yet sometimes in her jumble of clone memories the details became murky. Kyrel had been eager for power back then, yet another had personally challenged her - one named Mishel.

Sucked out of her memory gyre, Varas snapped back to the present. And although she’d never share such a silly thought aloud, maybe Sieger just wanted a vacation. While she’d hardly been on places like Maramere or the picturesque foothills of Bothawui, her mother Tmoxin’s impressions would let her know there were places to visit in the galaxy unlike Mustafar and Dagobah. If one could choose, why would they pick this specific life?

And as she listened to the discussion unfolding, making eye contact with Doran and the Disciple Racosidae now entering the chamber, the words upon her scarlet hued lips would be easy to find, and she selected the moment after a challenge came. The brunette clone made a mental note not to underestimate anyone as she could feel the young blonde girl's anger rising, her contempt spiking in a dangerous way.

Varas’s clear voice rang out, the vaulted ceiling causing it to echo: “There is no other choice for me. With Sieger missing, the Order of the Ren will not just unravel. I will follow you father and take on the role of Enforcer. Doran, will you join me as my apprentice?”

Now her gaze turned to the defiant Praetorian, her only signal to him that she would be fighting against him if Eight chose to strike was the snap-hiss of her crimson lightsaber and a determined glint in her blue irises, ones that matched the blue of her father’s eyes behind his mask.

[member="Kyrel Ren"] [member="Doran Ren"] [member="Racosidae"] [member="Marriskcal Lati"] [member="Eighth Guard"]​

 

[Varian Alaric]

Designation, Primat Ren/Valentin
Location, Bastion of Ren
Equipment,
Lightsaber (red)
Ren Armor
Status, Confused yet determined

-Pitter
-Patter
-Pitter
-Patter

-Pitter
Patter

The pitter-patter of metal-clad footsteps echoed through the empty hallways of the Ren Bastion as though it were the eclipsing sound of a church bell. Ding, ding...pitter, patter. The feet hit the ground of the Bastion of Ren with uncertainty in each step, an uncertainty filled with a desire of knowing, knowing what was about to happen. Val didn't know why the signal had been issued forth from Kyrel, though he felt as though something had gone amiss within the past few hours. Once, his mind has sensed and reached out to a large presence of force energy, radiating from the Supreme Leader. And then, suddenly and abruptly, that presence has been snuffed out like a match. Val hated not knowing what was going on, and he hated the feeling that this was the reason Kyrel had called him, and all the Ren, to meet.

Val's steel eyes swiveled in their sockets forwards as he entered into the main chamber where the Supreme Leader would...occasionally sit at his throne. This...was all wrong. Val had expected a commotion of some sort. He hadn't expected Kyrel, master of the knights of Ren, to be sitting in the Supreme Leaders throne. Val had come in at the end of a, probably well thought out, a monologue from somebody, and that's when the Praetorian acted followed by another Ren, one who he hadn't met before. The Praetorian Guard and Kyrel faced with one another, the Praetorian looking like a hero from one of those old oil paintings, standing up to Kyrel like he were in some holo-net soap opera. Thing was, this wasn't any soap opera. No, this was actually happening...this was real. The hissing snap of a lightsaber activating made Val refocus his attention on the female Ren, who was now standing beside the throne of the Supreme Leader. The same throne that Kyrel was most unceremoniously disrespecting.

He had no idea what to do. Should he act? Should he stand at the sidelines?


The Praetorian was brave, he was standing up to Kyrel. Val didn't know what Kyrel was doing...though he tried to get a sense from the atmosphere of the room. Tense. That's what everyone was in this room at this very moment. Kyrel...he's doing something. But what? Val couldn't stop himself from speaking, loud enough for all to hear, especially Kyrel, the female Ren, and the Praetorian. Val spoke, remembering what the Praetorian had spoken of just moment's ago when he had first entered the room. "Hm, Kyrel you're an idiot, a fool. You really think that...this, all of this, 'rebuilding' the Knights of Ren will accomplish anything. What about when the Supreme Leader...returns. What then? You're going to change everything, everything that the Supreme Leader had built...and for what? Your own greedy ambition, you're pathetic Kyrel. All you are is a rat in the mud...a gangster on the street, trying to wrest control and be the 'top dog.' Tsk, good luck with that." Val hesitated at first, though their was no going back after what he had said. Val's feet carried him towards Kyrel, standing a few feet from the Praetorian.

[member="Varas Ren"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Eighth Guard"] | [member="Doran Ren"] | [member="Racosidae"] | [member="Kyrel Ren"]

 

[Dirk Bannahan]

"..."​

Ah, there was the crux, the very core and innermost pain of the matter. Bereft of their father's guidance they were all sharpened and bent knives, each standing on the edge of absolute disaster without the glue which propelled the knights of Ren to accomplish great things of behalf of the First Order. Master Kyrel was brave to attempt to go for this, and there was no denying his experience on the battlefield. However, there were more brutal brothers waiting to prove themselves, and the hatred flowing from a Praetorian Guard rolled like so many onerous waves. Another Ren, Primat, incited even a further level of anger. It infected them with to the point of a bloodbath, and somehow the thought of bloodshed reminded Rae of how each of the people assembled here today were ultimately a wink in the Force, and each looked absolutely scrumptious.

She pictured them torn asunder, sucking the essence out of their burst ribcages.... and shook off the image quickly before it took over her faculties.

Racosidae didn't care who led them, ultimately, they just better be ready to give her exactly what Supreme Leader promised when he took her under his wing.

"Master Kyrel, Father Sieger made me a promise: that he would help cure me of this... disease." She stepped forward not too far off from the pair squaring up to attack the throne, opening her cloak and exposing a bare arm. From out of the shadow, this limb appeared sickly and grey, fractured with gaps of flesh open and sore like cracked glass before the shatter. In those cuts red energy thumped with what one could presume was the beating of heart. Raw power pumped from the veins, threatening to possibly crack her apart from within.

"If you can't do the same, then I see no reason for following you." Her head ducked, covering the bright red lights sizzling within her pupils.​

". . .but your body would give me sufficient sustenance while I find someone who can." Her fists balled into a tight crunch.​

[member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Varas Ren"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Eighth Guard"] | [member="Doran Ren"] | [member="Primat Ren"]​

 

[Doran Ren]

Location: Bastion of Ren, Virgillia​

Nearby: Kyrel Ren Eighth Guard Varas Ren Racosidae ghostwrite [member="Primat Ren"]​

Doran looked to the Knight of Ren with surprised eyes, A master? A teacher? Finally. The young Ren lowered himself to one knee once more before Varas. "It would be my honor Master Varas." Doran's happiness was cut short as another Ren entered the room. One he had never seen before. At about that time the this Ren entered Doran stood again to see and hear the crack of a Bilari electro sword crackling against the Praetorian's laminate and falling to the cobblestone floor.

Now this new Ren and the Praetorian were both challenging Master Kyrel. Fools, how could they want to cause such turmoil at a time like this. Doran wouldn't stand for it. He grunted as he stepped forward anc clutched his chest, breathing heavily. He still hadn't received the medical assistance he really needed. He limped over to put himself between the challengers and Master Kyrel. He wasn't very powerful to begin with and especially not in his wounded state. He lifted a shaky hand in front of the of the Ren and the praetorian, attempting to stop them. "You must stop! We cannot fight each other at a moment like this, we are weaker than we have ever been and this will solve nothing. Master Kyrel is just trying to keep us together, and you are trying to divide us!"

 

[Kyrel Ren]

​

Kyrel was unaware of what would happen next. As more Ren came into the chamber, he could still sense a growing hate from the others. It seems they weren't handling his proclamation very well. He pulled his saber, Vader's Bane. The saber still eager for blood as he first glanced the Praetorian, the one known as the Eighth guard began to speak. Behind the garbled and sinister tone, he could recognize an accent of some sort. No matter the words he did speak were of defiance. Kyrel could only scowl at the events that began to unravel, his daughter and Doran perhaps the only ones who would follow Kyrel without question. But for now, it had all seemed as if the Knights of Ren would fall apart merely to a band of Disciples, and Praetorians. He gritted his teeth in anger, clenching his fists in uncontrollable fury that had threatened to break free.

He looked to the Praetorian who had readied his weapon and spoke his voice displaying not even a hint of amusement. "It is time for a lesson then." He said as his crimson blade ignited with a hiss. He looked to the rest while keeping his blade up wary of who would make the first move. He spoke once more not just to the Disciple who also dared to challenge him, but to everyone else. "Fools! I do not wish to tear down all the Supreme Leader has built. But as of right now he is gone, whether he will return I do not know. But I do not do this for power, I do this to save you all from what you are doing right now. I wish to carry on his will just as you all do. Fighting me will not accomplish that. But if need be I would and will reinstate that lesson by force if I have to." He said eyeing each one, pacing back and forth his saber kept at a defensive level, unaware of who would make the first move.

Doran had stood between him and the rest of his kin, as he kept trying to speak and trying to end the conflict peacefully. Kyrel spoke once more keeping his eyes on the Praetorian who was the biggest threat of them all. "Listen to the boy. Do you not give into this madness. I only wish to do right by all of us, and if I do not this order will crumble without a man of vision. I am that man of vision and only wish to help you all. If you attack me now your lives and oath will be forfeit." He said with a growl, as he kept watching everyone wondering when the Chaos would come to a head or blow out of proportion.

[member="Doran Ren"] @Racosidae @Primat Ren [member="Varas Ren"] [member="Marriskcal Lati"] [member="Eighth Guard"]

 

[Goran]

At the moment when violence seemed not just imminent but inevitable, a black and gold astromech trundled into the room.

How Goran ended up in the Bastion of Ren wasn't immediately relevant. The sequence events was long, complicated, and mostly boring. Nearly three months of background checks, paperwork, and other assorted nonsense just to get approved to start the application process to join the Ren played a roll. It had just been granted an official Ren comm code (necessary for communicating with the people who'd be in charge of its testing and evaluation) when it received the same order as everyone else:

Priority Message: Come to the Bastion of Ren Immediately!

For starters, who the kriff used an exclamation point in a priority message? The whole priority message thing was usually enough of an exclamation all on its own. Honestly, the nerve of some people.

Finding exactly where the Bastion of Ren was took another mountain of paperwork, mostly in the form of nondisclosure agreements. The First Order didn't have to shoot their traitors, not if they could bury them in court costs until the end of time. That didn't mean that they wouldn't shoot them, just that they didn't have to.

Ooh, a penny.

That was what was going through the little Shard's mind as he rolled through the Bastion of Ren. Whatever the hullabaloo was that got everyone called here today, it figured it probably had something to do with the knot of angry, powerful presences gathered around what it assumed to be some sort of throne room.

If you attack me now your lives and oath will be forfeit.

You don't get a straight line like that very often.

"OOH! Does this mean we're about to have a fight? I love a good fight. Do I need to join a club? Are there rules? Should I have brought a training saber?"

It wasn't technically possible for an astromech to jump up and down like an excited schoolchild, but nonetheless, that's the impression Goran gave as a specialized arm popped out of its chassis. A lightsaber, nothing to write home about save its unusually focused and clear silver blade, ignited. The Shard also had a blaster carbine concealed in its dome, but it figured that was something they'd all figure out soon enough.

Meanwhile, its own Force presence blossomed outwards as it submerged itself in the mystical current.

Goran's presence was odd, to say the least. It was impossibly ancient, for starters, older than any living being had any right to be. It wasn't Dark, not precisely. There wasn't any anger or hatred or anything like that. It was...if entropy could be a side of the Force, that was exactly what Goran was. It was the chaos and disorder that inhabited everything, and ultimately would bring the universe to the perfect order as the last remaining atoms gave up their frantic motions in some far flung future.

Not something, then, that the average Ren was likely to have experienced.

"Man, Ren school is gonna be so much fun."

[member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Doran Ren"] | [member="Racosidae"] | [member="Primat Ren"] | [member="Varas Ren"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Eighth Guard"] | [member="ghostwrite"] |

 

[Dirk Bannahan]

Targeting: [member="Goran"]


Ren school. It called this Ren school.

Clearly, the droid that resembled one of the free wheeling trash bots that one would usually see cleaning up after some self important queen of some backwater world still technically within the core area was in dire need of a memory wipe. It nigh chirped in glee just as Rae could swear the bubbling frenzy in the room would break into violence.

Now? She felt worse than deflated. The mood was gone. Something about the interruption gave her the reality check that even as a nearly immortal Force Vampire she was weak, starving, and on the verge of falling part. Worse yet was the mixture of mental and physical lethargy threatening her with sleep. Besides, [member="Kyrel Ren"] simply wasn't listening to her needs. The Ren master was busy assuming the posture of a fight. Understandable with guards ready to pounce at the moment —but it didn't help Racosidae resist her nearing punch out from the tyrannical shift that is physical existence.

What did help, however, was the astromech holding a lightsaber up like it was ready to disco. It let out waves of Force power as it prepared to contort the bounds of possibility. She ignored her momentary perplexity at how a meager droid could wield such power, unaware of the blight on the galaxy called shards. As long as the diminutive jester kept pumping out energy, she could make like her kind of blight and get to sucking.

Her fracturing hand raised to Goran. Concentrating, she took in the excess and absorbed the energy —by no means stopping the mech from pooling or preparing an attack, for this was outside the realm of what immediately served her. Like a sweet juice she drank it up, finding relief like a thirsty vagrant in the desert finding an oasis. In the Force this action throbbed in ripples that felt like so many tentacles skirting the boundaries of exploitation. Maybe the other guys would notice. Maybe they wouldn't. In any case she wasn't going to perish in this room while a family squabble cracked its normative atmosphere.

 

[Eighth Guard]

​

The Eighth Guard, Praetorian Knight​

Equipment: Bilari Swordwhip - Praetorian Armour​

Location: The Bastion of Ren - Throne Room​

Status: Enforcing His Will​

Theme: "Chrome Dome" | The Last Jedi​

​

​

​

Eight always thought it was strange how the Force worked, how it did so for him and against him. Coincidentally; as the tension was about to boil over there were two new arrivals, a mad 'astromech' with such a cliched Force presence that it felt like a dozen Grey Jedi were in the room with them, and another Disciple that quickly chose to stand by him in this debacle. The Eighth Guard was undeterred by the Master Kyrel's threats, for he had forfeited his life long ago: He was the Supreme Leader's.

The Praetorian Knight inhaled deeply, honing his proficiency in the Force to assist him in the fighting ahead. He concentrated deeply, as he already knew what was about to occur next, for he had planned on it. Like the drums of war, sounds of marching could be heard from the entrances into the throne room as seven other Praetorians, each in a variant of their crimson armour, approached the group and formed a semi-circle in front of the Master Kyrel and his 'Enforcer' with the Eighth Guard. Something seemed off about these new sentinels, but one could only speculate at the moment.

His perception of time seemed to slow as he and his compatriots began their attack in near-perfect synchronization. Half of them took a lead in the charge, swiftly moving past the injured disciple if he did not attempt to halt their efforts further, and proceeded to begin swinging their various weapons with terrifying precision in the direction of the duo, the remaining half hovering in the back to alternate between their other.

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Praetorian Initiate Hopeful
Equipment | Training Lightsaber & Throwing Knives
Location | Throne Room, Bastion of Ren , Virgillia VII
Status | Friend or foe?
Target | Doran Ren

Though it was a dumb lapse, Marriskcal found herself taken aback, her focus on the confrontation before her splintering for a shard’s moment. She blinked thrice at the unforeseen intrusion. Once at the entrance of a temerarious brother (Oh, if he said those words to her…) and another at an… astromech? A R-series astromech with Force presence and audacious attitude at that.

If they were in a less tense situation, perhaps the blonde would have left her position to coo over the droid and pester it with inane questions. Ren school. As if we are but younglings in a purely academic institute! Out of the corner of her eyes, Marriskcal calmly noted that the disciple close to her in age was approaching the strangely chipper astromech.

The third and final time Marriskcal found herself taken aback was at the advent of seven other figures in blood crimson. Their presence in the force were subdued, but considering the harsh training every single one of the Guards endured in their journey, she did not find it unusual. The tense knot inside her unfurled.

Well then.

Though Marriskcal did not fully trust her sister in blue, it was a risk she will have to take.

As swirls and sparks of red flashed through the air, the youngling stepped lightly towards her injured brother. From the hand clutching at his chest, she knew the wound he sustained was dire. In any other occasion, she would have rushed off to seek aid. But whatever form of compassion that she still retained did not apply to a hostile. And from where she stood, the hurt male was most certainly one.

“Perhaps,” she started in a light chiding tone, “You feel that this would lead to a division in our ranks. But from our perspective, your actions are suspect.”

With a swift flick of her wrist, Marriskcal aimed the first throwing knife towards his abdomen. A second flick saw another blade aimed for his left shoulder. Though it would be an advantage if her blades found its targets, the youngling did not hold any hopes that they would. As injured as the other was, he is still a member of the Ren. No, her true desire was to increase the space between him and his new Master.

“Brother,” she spoke briskly to the other male disciple, keeping her eyes on her opponent. “Decide quickly.”



[member="Kyrel Ren"], [member="Doran Ren"], [member="Varas Ren"], [member="Eighth Guard"], [member="Racosidae"], [member="Goran"], [member="Primat Ren"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Another Ren had a arrived, and as Varas stood there with her saber ignited, she assessed the newcomer, an unfamiliar face and figure. She couldn’t help but smirk when he called her father an idiot. As one who’d suffered under Kyrel’s punishing training regimes, the brunette clone wished many times she could call him that aloud.

“I do not agree with your sentiment, Brother,” was all Varas said, not sure if she was heard over the confusion of the moment.

An eyebrow raised over Disciple Racosidae’s bare arm exposed with its disease… or was it a blessing? Not much unsettled her, but the sight of the affliction caused her stomach to quiver, seeds of nausea germating.

The clone felt an uncharacteristic sympathy for her new apprentice, Doran. She addressed him where she stood: “Brother, I would heal your wounds, but I-I've never tried it before, and I’m afraid the results would be catastrophic for both of us. You need medical attention.”

An astromech rolled into the chamber, impressing Varas with its navigational ability. While there were modern parts of the training facility, the copious amount of stairs in the building sometimes even left her winded. She would not question the idiosyncratic nature of a droid here among the Ren. Clenching her cybernetic hand, she mused that at the end of her life, she’d probably be almost a full mechanical being.

Varas’s senses sharpened as the Praetorians circled her and her father. If she thought he’d been posturing she was phenomenally wrong about that. Without hesitation and the swift staccato strike of Makashi, the brunette clone attacked the nearest crescent of red armor before her, hoping to throw the room off balance before there was any type of de-escalation.

[member="Kyrel Ren"] [member="Doran Ren"] [member="Primat Ren"] [member="Racosidae"] [member="Marriskcal Lati"] [member="Goran"] [member="Eighth Guard"]​