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Action, reaction. To bring an assassin out of hiding, she had to provoke. In her quest to perfect the art of stealth, this had been one of her lessons; a tool and a warning.
"There you are."
The spark of danger thrust her into immediate action as she pivoted to present her narrower side and stepped backwards off the line to avoid the lethal thrust. The red blade scraped against the surface of her beskar plate momentarily, but was not left in contact long enough to leave permanent damage. The Tsaisibola hissed at the red blade, protected from the plasma by its power gland. It did not lash out as the reach was too far, but kept a keen eye for opportunities.
With the step and pivot, her left shoulder was now facing [member="Darth Ferus"] and the sabre in her hand flashed up from its resting position in a quick strike at her attacker's knee in an attempt at removing his base of balance. Her right hand tucked close to her side, palming her second sabre and unhooking it in a slight of hand. She made sure it remained concealed but present should she need it. In this fight, Darth Ophidia knew she had to keep her cards tight to her chest and her options open.
-----
By now, the forces Darth Ophidia had commanded to arm themselves would have fortified themselves within a base position in the castle of the Andupaar dynasty and push out. They were not mere ornamental castle guards, there for ceremony. No, these were assigned to the protection of a member of the Dark Council and no expenses were spared in their training or equipment. Nor for the protection of the castle. From the castle, an organised resistance and chain of command begun to form as the surprise of the attack settled and defence procedures were set in motion. The attackers would find that the people of Mindabaal were not so easily squashed and that Imperial pride still resided in the brave sentients that sood in its defence.
There was a flash of a smile as [member="Darth Ophidia"] so neatly dodged the surprise attack. He had not wasted his time when he trained the woman to what she was now. No, he did not make the woman before him now. She made herself. All he did was hand her the tools needed to sculpt. But the smiles and the memories faded as his lips formed into a thin line and his eyes narrowed in focus. He had no intention of loosing.
As her blade lurched down for his knee the Sith Lord pushed back, sliding his feet across the ground in a simple yet quick movement to get out of the way and create some distance. Never once did his feet leave the ground however, emphasizing his ideal to stand firm against the woman that was once his most promising student. In his left hand the lighsaber came down, aiming to knock the woman's blade away to prevent pursuit.
But his red blade wasn't his choose of attack. His right hand would come around, sparking with a familiar sight to any Sith. Lightning. A concussive single blast of the electrical current was released with the soul intention of quickly jolting it's target and sending her back as if it was a push. Space offered options, and Darth Ferus was hellbent on making sure his hand was as full as he could get it.
[member="Abyss"] [member="Vaulkhar"] @Other People Not Currently In This Little Fight.
Abyss barley was able to keep up with his opponent, once more retreating instead of actually defending from the blows sended his way. However while his body was obviously beginning to shut down, his mind was starting to go to work. His eyes scanned his opponents attacks, searching for a weakness he could use to overcome his advantages, to negate his superior speed and skill.
And there it was. A less observant individual probably wouldn't have noticed, but there, in between swings of his weapon, his opponent showed a hint of exhaustion. To some it would been nothing more than a slight change of his breathing pattern, but Abyss knew that it meant that his opponent sooner or later would lack the endurance to keep his speed at this level. The hard part would be to keep standing until then.
Abyss took another step back, now at the edge of both their reaches. The blade danced in the air, as the acolyte began a series of simple thrusts and blows, similar but slower than that of his adversary. The execution was sloppy but also unpredictable, often choosing angles that had no other effect than keeping his enemy on his feet.
Even as he plummeted towards the ground from his high altitude, quickly reaching and maintaining a terminal velocity, his robes whipping around him, hood somehow staying in place so as to cast an eerie shadow over his features that obscured them from view despite all common logic, and muscles slowly tensing as his Force-reinforced body prepared to make his jarring and sudden entrance to the battlefield, Xavka's mind wondered free from constraint, musing rushing through his thoughts as quickly as the wind rushed past his body. The pure insanity of the situation was not lost upon the Zabrak and he felt a feeling of dark humour roll through his body even as his mind turned to inconsequential and random thoughts.
Looking out over the battle from his unique view point as he did, Xavka was struck by a sense of dark beauty as he witnessed the atrocities that were committed by the monster filled army that attempted to lay waste upon the One Sith Armies. Everywhere he looked, inhuman demons inhabited deformed and ravaged bodies as they threw themselves forwards with abandon and no hesitation or pause for self preservation. The twisted hands tore into the flesh of the fallen just as much as their teeth did and cries of disgust and terror echoes out from within the One Sith army along side cries of pain as blood began to soak the ground. The acts themselves managed to stir a faint feeling of disgust within Darth Lykos' stomach as well as a sense of admiration for whomever it was that crafted such a bestial fighting force. Within the privacy of his own mind, hidden behind shored up defenses born of the Force, Xavka was honest enough with himself to admit that he would have been honoured to study under that twisted genius, if only because he recognised that they understood what it truly was that won conflicts and confrontations. The strength of men was one aspect, yet it was oft the commanders that waged a war upon the mind and morale of their foes, that struck at their psyche as much as their bodies, that won. Yes, Xavka could admit that the thought of studying under an orchestrator of such dark majesty would be a truly unique experience.
Putting the stray thought out of his mind, Darth Lykos turned his attention sharply to the battlefield he was rapidly approaching, reaching out through the Force to gain an understanding of where the key players were positioned and to select himself a target. Close to where he would find himself landing, Xavka could feel a collection of four Presences, three of which he could easily recognise as Darth Ophidia; the woman he called his Master, Darth Ferus; the man that hand once held his loyalty but did so no longer and Vaulkhar; a former fellow Sith Assassin that Xavka had come in contact with a few times. The final Presence of the four was one that Xavka had not had any true interaction with and, as such, he was unable to put assign a name. Still, the situation there seemed to be steady and so Lyos focused on the two other main unknown and hostile Prseences that he could sense. One was sung with the sounds of a unique madness and seemed to be leading the assault against the nearby city while the other, one much close to Xavka's location, was steeped in a unique sense of bloodlust, raging and yet restricted. Between one second and the next, Xavka chose to pursue the Presence closet to him just as his body impacted with the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust and forcing the Zabrak to his knees with a grunt, his reinforced body managing to survive the landing.
Normally, Xavka's approach to combat was based entirely in stealth and on fighting in unfair circumstances, circumstances where the favour was tipped in his direction, for he saw no reason to risk his life nor his body in the pursuit of a 'fair duel'; besides life itself was fundamentally unfair and any who believed otherwise were shockingly naive. However, in the current time, stealth would have to be disregarded in favour of a frontal assault, something, as loathe as he was to admit it, appealed to the feral beast that lurked within the depths of Xavka's mind; the very section of his soul that could so easily loose itself to blood lust. Such a choice in combat style was made obvious within the first few seconds after Xavka had landed as a large wave of the Force erupted from the epicenter of the cloud of kicked up dust, sending bodies flying as Darth Lykos raised himself to his full six foot plus height, dark cloak with its hood still pulled up slowly settling around his form.
Lurching forwards, Xavka broke into a sprint as he surged towards where he felt his target to be. Now that he was on the ground, Xavka could actually catch a glimpse of his prey, a tall and heavily armoured figure that stood still among the raging tide of battle, watching over all that was happening around him. As Xavka ran, the concealed blade on his cybernetic left arm slid forwards, its dark blade gleaming in the light of the exchange of blaster fire that continued to occur around him, with the soft sing of metal running over metal while his right arm disappeared into the folds of his robes. Sliding under the leaping body of one of the corpse-eaters that the One Sith's army struggled against, Xavka continued without his pace being disturbed for even a second even as his arm's blade sung as it tasted flesh blood and separated the head of the corpse-eater from its body, leaving the now useless lump of flesh collide with what had only seconds prior been one of its fellows.
Fifteen meters away from the armoured figure, Xavka's concealed blade was once more concealed, hidden away within the cybernetic left arm as a miasma of Darkness began to settle around Xavka, collecting itself around his form even as the bodies of corpse-eaters and soldiers alike were tossed out of Darth Lykos' way, his lone eye fixated on a point a short distance behind his target. Ten meters away and Lykos began gathering his wits in preparation for the disorientation that he was soon to experience even as the miasma of Darkness around him began to condense itself. Five meters away and Lykos' form flickered and vanished.
When it came to Fold Space, Xavka had found out through hours upon hours, days upon days and weeks upon weeks of trials and experimentation that often left his body weak and broken that five was a very important number. The act of using the Force to transport one's body from one position to another was dangerous, risky and by no means instantaneous or without limit. Five meters, that was how far Xavka could travel before the strain of bending the Force in such a way began to cause blood vessels to burst, tendons to tear and organ to fail. More than that, it took Xavka a full five seconds of gathering the Force in preparation for such an act meaning that its usage in combat became seriously limited. The minimum time limit imposed meant that grenades of any sought would detonate before Xavka could make an escape and that any opponent he fought would have enough time to break his concentration. However, upon coming to such conclusion, Xavka had not allowed himself to be disappointed and resolved himself to finding a way to make the tiresome technique useful. In the end, he concluded that using Fold Space in combat would always be a one time thing per fight and, even then, would have to be used in conjunction with the element of surprise, for once he used the ability once, his foe would not permit him to do so again. It was in that manner that Darth Lykos now utilised Fold Space.
A Dark wound within the Force would screech into existence behind the armoured figure a few short moments, no more than enough time for Xavka's dual hearts to beat more than twice each, before the crouching form of Darth Lykos would appear. From within his robes his right hand would emerge and, clasped in his clawed grip, was a wakizashi sword, one made out plain durasteel but glowing to show the amount of Force imbued within it, enough so that it could stand up to the bite of lightsabers and cut through simple armour with unexpected ease. The slice of the blade was aimed directly at the back of the armoured beings neck, seeking to end the fight between them in one swift, unseen blow; as was the way of an Assassin.
Opponent: [member="Darth Eversor"]
OOC Note:
Just as a quick note to any that read this baring Darth Eversor, he and I have talked over Xavka using Fold Space like this and agreed that he can use it like this at this moment, but, on the condition that it is very, very unlikely that he'll get the opportunity to do so again. Something that I agree with completely.
"I hate that ship... it almost killed me" Mythos said with a chuckle regarding the ship [member="Ultimatum"] had brought to the engagement, when he got that ship out of the hands of a pirate Mythos had to restart it's hyperdrive that had probably been inactive for a century using his Sith Lightning. The act almost killed him and would have if the Lord of Mustafar provided some emergency medical treatment to his body which was covered in severe burns from the electricity that surged through his body, more than any human would have survived... But this was not just any human.
"My lord, the skies are clear, we have recon from the the battle grounds in the planet." "On Display"
Before him and the commander of the Decimus was a full display of the carnage below, troop positions and what appeared to be a massive assault on the royal academy building by a force of... sith? "Traitors... all of them are traitors and like the jaws of a Tuk'ata they gnaw at each other over dead meat... " Groom, his Tuk'ata at his side now about four-hundreds pounds growled at the sound of Mythos' anger. "Have the recon squad re-supply with bombing armament and drop a payload on the invading forces, we have annihilated any surface and aerial opposition so the bombing run should, by all accounts... be successful, yet still have the bombers be escorted by blade fighters...I'm not taking any chances... have you found a suitable landing position General?"
"Yes my lord, but it is one hundred miles from the source of the distress call separated by a mountainside." The General said, bringing up a survey of the area with topographical information and climate data.
"That will be of no concern, the Atrisian Legion is like no other fighting force in the galaxy... terrain will be conquered just like anything else... prepare the Legions...i will prepare the Jar'Kai for battle."With that, the General sent the alarms and the thousands of warriors Mythos had at his disposal armed and prepared began to board their ships and ready their weapons for deployment. Tartoros walkers and the ultimate arsenal of the sith was to be displayed in glory if only for one last battle.
Mythos left the command room and dropped down an elevator shaft to meet the grim faces of the special task force he called his personal guard. The Jar'Kai, armed with the rifles of the Sith Assassins and the weapons that would make any other force tremble. They were organized in formation, the Jar'Kai to the left, the Sentinels in the front and the Bulwark to the right wearing the masks that identified them. Mythos stepped in front of them and slammed the axe in the floor with a powerful smash, yet not a single solder before him flinched.
"The most powerful weapon in the galaxy is not a superlazer or a planet destroying beam.... it is the force" He said, pausing to regard every single one of his men. "Thus the most powerful beings in the galaxy are those who utilize the force as a weapon... I created you for the single purpose of destroying those kinds of warriors..." He paused again pointing at the transparisteel window that showed the planet to his left. "In that planet there are warriors such as you have never seen before... You remember how i taught you about [member="Darth Ophidia"], my Master in the force and the greatest living assassin in the galaxy who killed the king of Onderon by herself?" It was not a question that he expected an answer to, it was to set the mood for the type of warrior that they would indeed be facing.
"[member="Darth Ferus"] my teacher of Juyo? Vornskr, a lord who cheats death like a sabbac game, Sage Bane, a mentalist who will make you kill your own mother with only his mind... [member="Damien Daemon"], a swordsman with no equal in this galaxy, [member="Sinistra"] a master sorceress who makes the force do things that even masters of the force consider Impossible..."
Silence... Mythos picked up the axe and rested it in his shoulder while narrowing his eyes. "One or even all of them are down in that planet as we speak.... make no mistake this will be the greatest challenge you have ever faced as a unit.. Naboo, Chazwa, Lujo, Atrisia, Coruscant... it all leads here,it all leads to right now... i created you... To kill these people and this is exactly what we are going to do... they rely on the force."
Mythos looked over at a box, sealed in durasteel and bearing the symbol of house Chaf. "We do not"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bOZD_9wDjLg
[member="Darth Venefica"] [member="Darth Eversor"] [member="Vaulkhar"] [member="Darth Lykos"] @Abyss
The recollections of times just as this invaded Abraxas' thoughts, his possessed vessel's flesh twitched with the pure malice that the entity was composed of. The amount of suffering he had brought upon this galaxy was a sweet symphonic masterpiece put on repeat. Like a broken record, his wrath would forever reign until his existence was truly wiped clean from the stars. A monster with no more purpose than to bring terror and disgust upon world after world. His origin was to be that of a savior, but it was a failure. A scientist so determined he could make good the raw genetic material of the God-King [member="Darth Carnifex"], his detestable nature being passed down like a father to a son.
But yet something stirred in the midst of battle, Abraxas could feel that his time as that of a spectator was due to be up. Yet he stood and continued to watch on, the only sound pervading his ears being that of his inhumane breaths and the second-handed nature of spite in the form of crimson blades. The entity reached for the strap of his cannon and removed it, letting the weapon fall to the ground. His right hand reaching for the interior of his war-torn cloak, grasping the hilt of his own brand of fortitude. His true voice being that of the sounds of war. The very nature of hell.
He could feel it, the presence growing closer.
He wanted to feel the challenge of another blade, the possessed flesh salivating with starvation for blood. The angst of cursed organs writhing and pumping with corrupted ink-like death.
A roar erupted from the darkly clad Sith, his own blade igniting into an unstable blaze of erratic energy and screeching as he turned hastily to attempt to block the oncoming death blow. Abraxas was not a beast of stupidity, for he knew too many a time of being hunted and attacked. But this... this was a first for a Sith to attempt such bravery. Typically Jedi threw their weight at the monstrosity in hopes of besting him out of pure chance and surprise.
Now facing his would-be murderer, the blackened figure stared him down through his midnight visor and unleashed a demonic howl. The possessed vessel's vocal cords being nearly torn by the usage of the Force of something so foul.
"You..."
The time for engagement in combat was now. The war had started.
Damien Daemon, Ex-Sith Emperor, Lord Daemos, and many more generally unknown titles, was not Sith, nor had he truly been in over a decade. He worked to his own ends, he fought for those he foresaw would be beneficial. Every action showed his darkside nature, but he never let his loyalties meet any that would not serve his ends.
The same could be said now. He had come to the planet, having a vision of him battling a man on the planet. He didn't know who he was, but that could be expected with years spent being a hermit, with zero contact outside of his family. Maybe he had faced this opponent in the past, it had almost seemed too as blow for blow was matched, blocked, and contained. Through the vision, just as he began to push his potential, he noticed the location, and so made haste.
Now, he stood still, clad in his Baka Battle Bodyglove, eyes to the skies. At his hip hung a collection of Boost, against his back hung Tantibus, at the opposite hip Lymmahtun. Around his neck was an Talisman of Concentration, and on his finger another. Nearby sat a bundle of weaponry borrowed from his daughter, as well as his stash at Merr-Sonn.
Slowly Damien's senses moved around him in all directions... slowly it touched on an aura... Mythos...
"Mythos... You and I are destined to meet on this battlefield... Come to me."
While certainly Ultimatum could have given some stirring speech about the battle to come. He could have spoken of the enemy, of his allies, of the artificial superiority. But to what end? The greatest advantage of artificial life was that it was just that, artificial. It did not feel as organics did, they did not have fear, courage, or joy. They fought, not because they believed in their leader or that they had some cause to fight for. No, they fought because that was their order, no matter how much organics attempted to control their soldiers, there was nothing like this. Each and every droid knew as fact that they were fighting because of the orders from their supreme commander and therefore there was no greater cause. Unlike organics, they all intimately understood the fact that they existed for a greater cause and they would give their life for it.
Therefore Ultimatum stayed silent and thought inwards as the Displacers began moving out of the hangar. They would begin the rapid descent in mere moments and then perhaps a minute or so later the real battle would begin. Then it would be time to prove that old artificials were not obsolete artificials. This would be a day remembered, not in by any of those droids who fought in it, but by the conglomerate of identities that was coming into existence. There was no end to the enemies or allies throughout the galaxy and there would always be another battle. This was merely a sign of what had been long in the coming. The Sith were falling apart once more, perhaps is was only temporary, but it was enough that a couple individuals were seizing the moment to get what power they could. They would fight all the stronger because they percieved weakness in their enemies.
They would be taught that these droids would not give up easily. That the enemy was about to face a foe of metal and oil. There was nothing that they could do to stop it, in the end they would fall in droves having accomplished nothing. If their superiors knew what was good for them, they would retreat while the chance remained. Masters of the Force or no, they all could die. Metal would shake this day, bones would splinter, blood would be spilled on these fields. Their allies would flee before the onslaught of the metal men and their merciless march. These thoughts were what Ultimatum put in his mind to keep away from the more pressing ones.
Who was right in a war of evils? The lesser of two was still evil, was it not? Why side with evil at all? Would it not be better to stand against it, even at the expense of one's life? Yet at the same time, betrayal was an evil of its own. He could not turn his back on [member="Mythos"], even if the man did not stand for the same principles that Ultimatum believed in. The droid smiled to himself at the thought of Mythos in this ship, it would be a rather ironic image given their history.
Ultimatum could feel the almost imperceptible beginning of the drop. A few pods had already begun the descent ahead of Ultimatum, ensuring that they would no be overrun by enemies as soon as they opened the doors. It would not be long before the crash into the planet and then the battle would begin in earnest. He would be there, on the front lines fighting alongside his son artificials. Together they would fight and together they would die. This would be their baptizing moment, never before had any of them seen real war, not that it made any difference to them as experience in the droid world was easy to transmit from one to the other. They were one in mind, and they would fight all the better for it. Damnation awaited and Ultimatum intended on repaying it, with the blood of his enemies.
As [member="Abyss"] began his attack on Vaulkhar, the pale man fell backward into a defensive stance in order to remain alive. Soresu was his go to defensive stance and much like Makashi, it allowed him to efficiently use his own body movements and the most basic of saber movements to avoid taking damage. It allowed him to begin to take deeper breaths once more, as he no longer focused on speeding his body up with the Force. He had to perk a brow as the attacks that came at him were less focused and more wild, coming at awkward angles for both the thrusts and the slashes. His lightsaber moved left and right, deflecting the blows and thrusts.
'I'm confused.'
Was the only thought that came to his mind. For the most part, his defense was easily keeping the attacks of Abyss away, but as he took a step to the side he misjudged the oncoming attack. His lightsaber deflected a blade meant for his shoulder, but with the lack of power behind it he simply moved it towards that of his left arm. The durasteel armor plating on top the arm kept it from slashing horrifically across the flesh, but a wound was created and the armor was slashed decently. The pain caused anger to burn within that of Vaulkhar. The anger turned to hate and the hate was never a good thing. Taking one more deep breath Vaulkhar went on the offensive.
As Abyss attacked him once more, Vaulkhar reached down with his left arm and grasped his secondary lightsaber. Twisting his hips and upper body, his right arm met with his foes, knocking the blow wide away. As this occurred, his secondary lightsaber ignite, the crimson energies bursting to life as he immediately stabbed out at Abyss, aiming for the man's thigh while he brought back his other lightsaber into a defensive position.
As the second lightsaber appeared in the mans hand, Abyss took a step back, not because he wanted to avoid the the attack, but because he was honestly surprised by the second weapon. The movement back saved him from getting his leg pierced completely but still the crimson red blade found its way. The weapon left a deep mark, amplifying the pain Abyss was already in from the wound on tge leg. By now he stumbling and limping back, swinging his weapon trough the air without any aim, in a desperate attempt to secure his retreat.
After a few steps, Abyss could feel how all force left his leg from on moment to another and he once again feel to the ground. From his lungs a shout emerged, a wordless manifestation of his anger and hate. Unconsciously the sound was filled with the dark side, as the dust and dirty from the ground began to dance in the air a few centimetres above the ground.
All feeling had left his right leg, the nerves connecting his brain to the limp burned by his adversary lightsaber. Yet he still wasn't done. The fights had been to long an depriving and Abyss wasn't ready to surrender after all he had pushed himself to do. His shaking right hand moved in the air the lightsaber flickering to life once again. Still confined to the ground, on leg dragging behind without any movement, and his left arm clinging to the ground, dragging his body forwards the blade still in the air.
"I can feel it inside of you. Your fear. Your desires. Your hate. You want to overcome me, to break me. But I will never bow, not before your master, and certainly not before a sith imposter. You are no true sith, I see the anger and the hate, but not the passion. No fire inside you that burns bright enough to fully embrace what you are. You a scared of what you could become."
Abyss last line of defense wasn't the red blade in his hands but the force. Like his opponent had two weapons to distract his attention, Abyss used the force, filling his words with the dark side, testing and poking the fears inside the mans mind. There was no guarantee that the man would give in to the attack but he would have to shield himslef from it, diverting his attention away from the physical aspect of the fight.
It's always awkward when an enemy attempts to pry into the mind of an Epicanthix.
Vaulkhar could feel the force laden within the enemies words. He could feel the attempts at mental intrusion that was the powers of [member="Abyss"] poking at his conscious. But it sadly wouldn't work. The uniqueness that was the Epicanthix mental fortitude was impenetrable from what he has encountered thus far, and from what he had been told from Master. Staring into the eyes of Abyss as the man dragged himself forward, he could only feel pity for the downed Sith. He did not want to kill him. As he was not a true Sith, Vaulkhar that is. He simply used the dark side as it fit him more so than that of the light. For all intensive purposes, Abyss was right. He lacked passion because it was meaningless for him. He lacked ambition because he's never needed it, as much as he's desired it as of recently.
"I could feel you, poking at my brain, Acolyte. It's always crushing to one's hopes when someone attempts to pry into my mind. Sadly, it is something you will never do."
Returning his recently ignited lightsaber to his belt, he simply raised his left arm towards a nearby fallen foe. Raising him upwards into the air, Vaulkhar threw the dead trooper through the air towards the down form of Abyss. As the corpse flew, he turned back towards Abyss and sent a wave of energy, through the force, towards Abyss.
"I have no desire to kill you, so take your defeat and leave, Acolyte. Killing you is meaningless for me."
With a sloppy move the red blade in Abyss shaking hand meet the corpse flying towards him. He meant to cut the dead one in half but he only managed to bury his weapon deep into the corpse. The weight of the body pressed on Abyss, and only under great pain he could move the corpse away. While trying to not get buried under the dead, he completely missed the push in the force, and as the corpse found his way to the ground besides him the acolyte was pressed back, falling on his back. The pain was almost unbearable, and another cry left the mans lungs. He could feel his conscience fading, reality around him began to warp and break apart, slowly shrouded by blackness.
Suddenly he could feel it inside him, his passion burning brighter than before, the darkside consuming his any thought. A laugh. A laugh not dark and inhuman like before but that of a madman. When Darth Ferus stood above him with his weapon he felt fear, but now it was gone. His opponent had bested him and still he was weaker than himself. Someone who truly was dedicated to the darkness would never show mercy.
His right hand extended on the ground, his fingers forming a claw. With a pull in the force a small blaster pistol from one of the dead found its way into his hand. While his right hand began to aim, His left hand channeled what was left of his energy, sending a telekinetic push at the other man. Than he began to shoot a series of blaster bolts at the man.
"Whoever survives our passing does so only by my consent."
That was the order given, passed down the ranks by Captain Nero. There came a rumbling among the assorted troopers. They were few in number, but they knew this day would come, and they relied ever heavily on the reinforcements of their allies. However, were they to have any hope of surviving the oncoming onslaught, their allies would need to be quick to come to the aid of Sabik Dhami.
A mechanical foot belonging to a technological giant stomped down beside the acoylte, then another, and another. The entire force of the 88th Mechanized Assault Group had been hailed, and the AT-AT's were among the first to stir. Their sheer size already dominated the streets of Mindabaal, towering far above those that stood below. Then came the AT-ST's like a pack of wild dogs that loyally followed the alphas.
Situation reports were flooding in. The Inquisition Fleet was en-route, which bode poorly for the acolyte. He cursed under his breath, paced forward and hailed Captain Nero over the comms, "Assemble the tie fighters, I want immediate air support. Lock down this sector and maintain a defensive perimeter until reinforcements arrive." The Mandalorian was accustomed to war, but this was altogether a different ball game.
Then came the others, Sith. Where there were soldiers, there would be Sith to follow them. Sabik Dhami was not the sole leader of the forces of Mindabaal. "Good," came the demonic purr of a Sith Knight. He was garbed in robes of black trimmed in crimson, his face concealed by a combat mask. His hands lay heavy on his lightsaber, armed and armoured. The knight was ready to fight, if only he knew.
As the Sith began to pour into the streets, alongside the advancing machines of war, they remained clueless of their colleagues true intentions. The AT-AT's and AT-ST's would assemble a perimeter around the academy, a killing field for any One Sith who would try to escape. The 88th remained behind. As the mechanical beasts turned, and the lack of support from the troops took the notice of the Sith, former acolytes and knights who had trained alongside Sabik Dhami turned. "What're you waiting for?" they beseeched, but Sabik only had two words to speak, "Open fire."
Canons and blasters opened fire in unison. Debris and dust blasted through the tight corridor-like streets. In seconds it became impossible to see who had survived amidst the cloud of dust. Blasters continued to fire until Nero ordered the ceasefire. Sabik marched forward, his saber activated. A golden glow cast across his face. He sensed one had survived, and in the chaos he hunted him down, and through his heart he drove his blade.
Sanguine rods of superheated plasma hummed, screeched and spat as they sheared through the air and collided in the exact movements of their dance. As [member="Darth Ferus"] swiped her left-handed blade to the side, she squared her hip to bring forth her right hand and slipped the sabre properly into her palm with a single fluent movement. Ophidia's blade erupted in a furious snap-hiss to catch the concussive lightning erupting from the Red Assassin's fingers. The dirt of the ground bunched under her feet as she stood against the pressure. The literal sparks between them reflected in the visor of her helm.
Then, a shift in her movement. The counter-pressure from her blades released as she allowed it to push her back. The two bloodshine blades withdrew into a defensive position as she stepped back, gathering dirt on her foot in a swipe and tossing it up at her opponent's face with quick flick. No trick, simple or dirty, was beyond her. Every edge she could gather; every moment she could purchase was valuable.
Then, like the waves of the ocean would fall to rise, she came back with a crushing tide of agression. Be he affected by the sand or not, she attacked in the split moment it purchased her. The left sabre extended into a swift but shallow cut at Darth Ferus' neck while the right maintained a defensive position. Then a switch; the left withdrew to defense as the right darted forward in a thrust at his abdomen. Each moment flowed to the next in deadly fluency.
Lights in the first sign. Like a meteor shower, smaller in number definitely, the displacers entered the atmosphere. It was not until they had entered the planet's Stratosphere that the ships began to slow down. Their perilous descent slowed and the flames that followed them began to disappear. There would have been half a minute for enemies to realize what was heading their way before the objects hit the ground. They would have struck the ground at an incredible speed nonetheless, creating small craters where they fell and burying themselves slightly as well.
For Ultimatum it was a relatively uneventful trip, when they hit the ground there was enough of an impact that was not absorbed by the mechanisms that he was nearly fell over. The doors opened a moment later, the silence was broken by the sound of blaster fire. Those first few enemies who fired would find too late that their blasters were useless against the droids inside the drop pods, for the shields that had protected the pods from most anti-air fire would hold for another minute or so. However, the droids inside would not wait, they began to file out, creating lines of soldiers that began firing in unison. Each droid would fire upon its own target, as if they were all connected by a single mind.
Ultimatum took a place in one of the lines, knowing that it would not be too long before such simple maneuvers were broken. However, each and every droid would act as one, for they all were connected by a single program, albeit one with slight differences in the case of the droids. They were all his bodies, they were extensions of his mind, they were most importantly all his children. Because of this he would fight all the harder to keep them alive, yet at the same time he knew that sacrifices would be made. While he feasibly could control all of these droids at once, that was not how he had been programmed, thus they fought independent of him yet were intimately connected with him.
He chose his first target fired. The man fell and Ultimatum realized what had happened to these people. It was a terrible fate, to have one's humanity ripped from them and yet retain the intelligence. Only organics could be so cruel as to break people in such a manner. Such monstrosities as only organics could be. The worst that artificials had attempted was simple genocide, they did not create these monsters. Yet one more reason that Ultimatum saw Sith the way he did, they pretended to be gods, changing what was as they saw fit, creating abominations whenever it pleased them. It was a trait shared by all organics, but the Sith tended to be the ones that left any shred of restraint to the wind. That was why he found it difficult to work with them.
As the armoured Sith turned to face him, Darth Lykos chose to place distance between himself and his opponent, leaping backwards a couple of meters in a single, graceful move even as the tortured howl of rage that the armoured Sith released began to be lost beneath the cacophony of the surrounding battle. For a moment, time seemed to freeze for Lykos as he took in the scene he found himself in. Him, crouched and with his Force empowered wakizashi now resting low on his right hand side, the very tip of the blade touching the ground. His foe, a short distance away, standing completely erect, towering over the Zabrak's purposefully minimised form. And the crowds of crashing armies around them, one side sane while the other was driven by an insatiable desire imprinted upon their shattered minds, instinctively giving the two Sith a wide birth as the auras of Darkness the pair were producing whispered insidious thoughts directly to the primal, subconscious mind of the flesh-eaters and disciplined soldiers alike possessed, telling them to avoid the cloaked and armoured figures who ranked above them on the food chain.
For a few short moments, barely long enough for each of his two hearts to beat twice within his chest, Lykos' inquisitive mind drove him to compare the feeling of his and his foe's Presences within the Force. Whereas his was an endless rolling thing, endlessly shifting like shadows captured in a bottle, driven by a suppressed and controlled, raging, inner feral beast his foe was much the opposite. The armoured Sith's Presence was thick and heady like sludge that held an endless tide of animalistic hate and bloodlust yet, buried just as deep as his feral nature was, was a calculating mind that separated Lykos' foe from none-sentient beings.
​Pushing aside his observations for now, Darth Lykos struck out at his opponent, determined to control the flow of the battle. However, his strike did not require him to physically move his body as tendrils of Darkness would leap forwards to wrap around the very Presence, the very aura, of his foe, already corrupting the body of opponent through a Force based poison with a speed born out of experience. The seed of Darkness planted within the Presence of the Armoured Sith would release a steady, ever increasingly powerful stream of intangible poison into the body of said Sith, the poison would settle into the the synapses of the nervous system, impeding the speed at which the chemicals would clear the gap between nerve endings, hence increasing the time taken for the brain to receive signals and for the body to react on orders from the brain; ultimately slowing down the body. Further more, the Force based poison would begin to obstruct the axons in the brain, slowing thinking speed as making it seem as if the world around the target was steadily speeding up. In the past, when Lykos had had time to build up the strike of Darkness, the effect of it could be extremely devastating, locking the mind and body in such a slowed state that it would take a single eternity for a single second to pass from the perspective of the sufferer.
In the end, from Lykos' point of view, his foe would be left with two choices. The first of which would be to resist against the Force based poison, to prevent it from gaining a foothold within their body. However, the steadily increasing strength of the never ending assault emerging from both the tendrils of Darkness and the seed of Darkness embedded within the Presence that the Armoured Sith possessed would mean that eventually they would be overwhelmed and end up exactly where they currently were, just a little further along in time. The second option that Lykos could see was for his opponent to root out the Seed of Darkness planted within their Presence while shielding themselves against the corrupting tendrils that Lykos controlled. However, such an action would require focus to achieve and it was that pause to focus that Lykos' next move would take advantage of.
​Barely a few seconds after his assault through the Force, Lykos raced forwards towards the hulking form of his opponent, body blurring as he covered the distance in two long strides while enhancing his body through the Force, his body becoming a miniature beacon of Darkness. The first strike would be a rising strike coming across the torso of the Armoured Sith, crossing, from Lykos' point of view, left to right after he had crossed his arm across his body while moving forwards. From there, Lykos would seamlessly transition into a spin, locking his right foot in place and rotating only ninety degrees so that he was now facing his foe from the side. The spin would carry on through into a punch delivered by his left, cybernetic hand, powered forward by a twist of his hips. Following through with the momentum already generated, Lykos allowed his body to be pulled into yet another spin, locking both feet in place this time so that he ended up standing with the Armoured Sith to his right, facing behind his foe. During the spin, Lykos had shifted his grip in his sword into a reverse grasp and now his arm snapped out, carrying the tip of the blade forwards and into the lower right back of his foe should the strike not be stopped. Bending his legs slightly, Lykos launched himself into the air, powering his leap with the Force enough that he ended up completely inverted and vertical in the air, looking down at his foe. His cybernetic hand would come to rest on the back of his opponent head before a blast of kinetic energy created by the Force would slam into the back of his foe's skull. The blast also served to push Lykos away from the Armoured Sith and he landed a short distance away in a crouching position after having twisted his body during his fall.
The entire routine barely took eight seconds from start to finish, such was the grace and speed that Lykos fought with.
[member="Darth Eversor"] OOC Note:
As usual, if you have any issues with anything I have written or I have not explained something well enough please do feel free to contact me through a PM.
TL;DR:
-Xavka used a mix if Force Plague and Force Slow (Force Plague with the effects of Slow) on Eversor. -Straight afterwards, Xavka attacked Eversor front on with a (from Xavka's POV) a rising left to right diagonal slash. -Xavka then moved to Eversor's right hand side to punch at him with his cybernetic hand before, from the same spot, spinning and attempting to pierce Eversor in the lower back with his blade. -Xavka then jumped into the air in a preemptive dodge before launching a blast of the Force at the back of Eversor's neck, using the force of the blast to gain some distance and land behind Eversor.
Vaulkhar really didn't want to hurt [member="Abyss"] further, but it was getting to the point where it seemed as if death was the only way to end this fight. And it was not him who would die. Pushing up a force wall at the last moment, the push managed to make contact, but much weaker that planned. Vaulkhar was set off balance, barely managing to remain on his feet. As he regained his balance, the blaster bolts had come. One immediately pushed passed his defense and made contact with his left pectoral. The impact set him further, back, sending a burning pain through his chest, but the armor upon his body stopped most of the impact. He reflexively put up his left arm, the durasteel armor plating blocking two more bolts. He could feel the arm immediately bruising where the shots made contact, but no lasting pain.
He brought his lightsaber up and began to block the remaining bolts as me moved towards Abyss.
"I have to be honest, Acolyte. Your skills are not exactly impressive, but your desire to fight on is admirable. You are a worthy opponent and I will no longer pity you. You have earned my respect."
Vaulkhar dashed forward towards the downed form of Abyss, blocking the bolts as he ran. None of them were redirected at the cloaked form upon the floor, as he had no intention of doing so. Instead, they were simply sent flying, away from Vaulkhar entirely. As he got close, he brought down his saber in a series of downward and horizontal slashes at Abyss' lightsaber in the hopes of smashing it away and quite literally cutting the man's wounded leg free from his body.
"I'm sorry you were on the wrong side today, boy. You have great potential within you."
Finally, I had been called for and promptly headed down to the planet to take over command of my Master's personal army. I was still learning about commanding armies and all out war scenarios, but my Master was working diligently with me to make me the perfect killing machine. She had me study several holovids from previous wars, invasions, and battles to get a feel of what to expect. Honestly, it seemed quite overwhelming at first, though with enough practice and self-discipline I could lead grand armies into cities leaving a trail of destruction in my wake.
Upon conferring with the army's secondary commanders, a plan of action was agreed upon. The Royal Academy would be our first target. Initially we planned to blitzkrieg our target, but without positive intel on the strength and nature of our opposition, we elected to lay siege to that surrounding area at the onset. Thus, we would be able to draw out the enemy to face us on the battlefield of our choosing.
I walked the lines of the army, paying close attention to their moral while keeping an eye on the readiness of the heavy artillery units. These units, heavily guarded by a supporting force, would make the first strike which would prompt the second phase of the attack. Completely satisfied with the combat readiness of all my troops, I spoke into the communication device. "All Artillery Commanders commence with the bombing!" The massive vehicles belched sending out their screams of war. One after another they sent their payloads deep into the heart of the Royal Academy and the surrounding areas.
"I want continuous updates," I told the scouts, who were sent ahead in preparation for the siege, after turning on my communication device to accept all the incoming chatter from every commander under my watch. After a few moments a reply came back that sent waves of happiness through my ruined body. "We have a 85% success rate on the initial attack, Commander Torcularis. Estimated causalities in the thousands." The artillery monsters kept up their rate of fire as I ordered the remaining ground forces to move out, with one clear order. Kill anything in your line of sight. Taking prisoners could have been a possibility but my Master mentioned nothing of the sort and as her Apprentice, it was my goal to please her.
I gripped my two hilts as I lead my army closer to the target while the artillery began to move into their second wave of this attack, the first was keeping up a serious stream of firepower into the area while the second was to give us covering fire as we made our approach. The fighters, playing a small role for now, took to the skies to gain air superiority of the battlefield. Though I suspect these flying machine's pilots would grow bored, because this was a surprise attack on a small scale defended planet and their presence may not be required at all.
I halted the army a few kilometers from the fiery destruction that once was called the Royal Academy, watching as countless people fled the area. "Keep a tight formation as we draw closer," I yelled as loud as my ruined vocal chords would allow, then I ordered the advancement of the army. To the scouts, who by now have been met up by the snipers, I said, "Clear shots only!"
[member="Darth Venefica"] @Allies @Any Opposition
(OOC: For now I'm just getting into the mix without intervening with all ready excellent entanglements. If anyone for the opposition was to face me, I will forgo the invasion like scene in favor for a one vs. one scenario)
Abyss didn't even had enough power left to really block the incoming blade. The weapon spiraled trough the air and deactivated as it touched the ground. There was nothing between the red glow and his leg, and he knew he would be to slow to avoid the attack. With the last bit of energy left in his injured and already crippled body, Abyss dragged himself back, in hope to at least save a part of his limp. It took the lightsaber not even a second to make a clean cut trough the lower part of leg, serving the limp slightly below the knee. Only because the nerves in legs where already damaged he managed to no instantly lose his conscience, crying an shouting as the pain slowly ascended in his body.
Abyss eyes widened, like he falling into a trace. The yellow glowing iris moved on his opponent, the madness in them now openly visible. The young acolyte extended his shaking hand towards the man.
"Die"
A whisper left his mouth, then he collapsed on the ground, the pain finally beating his desire to kill his adversary. From one second to another there was only black before his eyes.
Watching the lightsaber slice directly through his foes legs reminded him grimly of when he lost his own right arm. Falling three stories and losing it midway was an experience seared into his mind. Watching such a horrid action at his own hands reminded him of the very scenario. He felt empty and he felt cold. The Dark Side drained all warmth within his body and the memory did not do any help in the cold feeling rushing through his body. As he moved away from [member="Abyss"], he reached out through the force towards the downed enemies lightsaber, now tossed to the side. Pulling it through the air towards him, he grasped it and connected it to his belt. A simple trophy to remind him of his duel with a worthy foe.
"Goodbye, acolyte."
Vaulkhar through the simple farewell over his shoulder as he pressed the device to his ear. As he activated the communications device within his ear, he connected to the private channel his astromech managed to put together for his quick message towards the allies of [member="Darth Ferus"].
"Greetings. Many have fallen this day, bodies and blood stain the grounds of this planet. Come and collect the bodies so we can begin our work for the master. Vagabond out."
With the closing of the line, Vaulkhar began his long trek back to his ship; in silence.
