Masters of the Dead Road (Kintan Rebellion: Witchmasters vs Hutts)

[Darth Libertas]

[member="Alec Rekali"], [member="Curupira Hawk"], [member="Thraxis"]


THEATRE ONE: FORTRESS KH'ARIS
NEAR FRONT DOOR

Alchemised super bees, explosions, directional hard-sound guns, collapsing stone! Mortar crumbled, chaos reigned and there was a hell of a lot of noise and plenty of carnage. What had Sumiko been doing throughout this? Well, her strongly distracted writer finally got around to writing a post. Fortunately she'd had the presence of mind to shield her ears with a telekinetic sphere just before the young Rekali hard sound-guns roared loudly.


If Sio Kerrigan were here, she would've added to the carnage by doing something obscene and almost pornographically destructive with AOE telekinetic shockwaves. It would've been quite lovely to behold as long as you didn't happen to be in the blast radius. Or being buried under piles of rubble. Well, Sumiko could not match since she'd only minored in telekinesis. So instead she chose a different route. While the others had gone on the offensive, she'd focused her power, getting a feeling for the minds of the Cartel guards facing them.


Stretching out with her mind and drawing upon the power of Souldrinker, she sought to imprint her will upon them. Ethereal words of power left her lips in hushed whispers, whilst her eyes acquired a dark tint and her free hand moved in a series of gestures. Confusion, fear, panic and hysteria to the point of madness would pour into the minds of the guards as she brought their inner demons to life, amplifying what they must be feeling when Ostanes deployed alchemised bees and Alec made mincemeat of their door shield. She could not reach all of them, but several. The air was thick with a dark aura of despair and hopelessness.


Once the bees were deployed towards the generators, they would appear larger, more numerous and demonic in the minds of the affected guards, as if horrible nightmares from some sort of Netherworld hell or the laboratory of a demented, wicked Sith Lord had come to visit. It would look like the stone structure was collapsing all around them. In short, guards in whose minds she succeded in sinking her mental tendrils would feel a strong compulsion to get the hell away.

 

[Thraxis]

Thraxis paused for a second, as he looked to the roof, cracking stone and earth shattering noise had awoken above him, the men scattering as he ran out the front caring little for any gunfire he might encounter. He had no idea the casualties but he started to get flooded with information, buzzing bees had gotten into the generator room and quickly his eyes looked. The shield had fallen. Then came movement from the sewers. He had no idea if they were rats or what not but they all had to be dealt with.

He turned to his men, starting to issues orders throughout his men, "Alpha Squad! Check out the Sewers! Bravo, the Generators the rest hold your line! Spread between the rubble!" he yelled as he walked towards the rubble, pulling out his duffel bag and an amplifier. He took a second, moving behind the rubble to brace himself for what he was about to do.

After a few seconds he saw the men, fleeing blundering around as words whispered in his ear. The force too? Oh, they were god. He paused for a second, letting out a breath as he enveloped his words with his Zeltron abilities, imprinting his own will onto them. Bloodlust, anger, rage. The essentials any soldiers would need to stay in line. Though it was no use. The men had scattered. Fleeing from the battlefield and running every which way. Thraxis stood alone.

He ordered the command central to project his body in full, he wanted everyone to see him. After a few minutes he became visible, a massive monster of a hologram projecting itself with a bluish hue. He followed with a dialogue, his voice crumpled with rage as his lips split apart. "Pathetic. The lot of you. Bees. The Force. Rancors even. How cowardly are you. Do you think anyone will look at this and think how victorious you were. No. All they will see were a bunch of cowards. To scared to fight in a proper battle so they needed to use every trick they could to elicit a victory. he yelled with poisoned words, his voice being amplified again through the projection. Or at least he hoped that was how it all worked.

"I thought I despised the Jedi, but no. Now you have declared war. You better hope I don't survive." he paused as he took his helmet off, his eyes brazen with a flame that he had not had since his time on Zeltros, "Because. If I get my digits on you. I will adorn my bed with your innards and use your bones as cups!" his voice slowly changing, his body almost bouncing with anticipation as his tongue unfurled through his lips, a single twitch as he broke into a laughter with the projection cutting off quickly after.

He made one last order. "Soldiers. Fire the escape ships. At whoever you see. Leave one for us." he said as he looked on, putting his helmet back on as he stood at the front gate. His arms folded as he looked at what he had to face. Really wish there was more of a Cartel to help him out. But it seemed that he was the last of a dying breed.
[member="Sumiko Tanaka"] [member="Alec Rekali"] [member="Curupira Hawk"]
[member="Ember Rekali"] [member="Asemir Lor'kora"] [member="Shezi Khoza"]
[member="Gheleon"] [member="Edison Bulkhead"] [member="Herata"] [member="Iegoris Verd"]
[member="Vulgrim Blackwell"] [member="Ostanes"]

 

[James Justice]

James was almost a stormcrow. It was as if he had a sixth sense for violence. The spacer was onworld, doing a little undercover recon in a bar. You could spend all the credits in the galaxy on good slicers and spies, but he found that few things could ever beat the skulldragging in a seedy bar. The spacer had landed in one of his new DarkStorm Interceptors. As far as comfort goes it was somewhat lacking, but it would do the trick. In orbit was a seemingly ordinary Brayl-class bulk freighter. The transponder indicated that it was one of Justice Shipping's non-combat units, just a simple cargo farrier named the Queen's Delight on a run to drop off a few crates of luxury foodstuff.

And for all intents and purposes this was the case.

However, for this mission, its cargo hold had been retrofitted with a hanger. It was crude but it would do, stealth and blending in were the point here, not beating the crap out of anyone. But just in case the Tsubasano Senshi were on board, waiting for the order to come down and slash down an entire army if needed.

"Well from what I hear there is a score out there, not far off the Correllian Run," said the duro named Luco.

James chuckled, "The one place called Soceras?"

"Oh, gods no, not that chit hole. I mean a lost world. A powerful one. Rumor is that its only reachable through Hyperspace flux, but its rich. Rich in phrik," Luco said sagely.

James smirked, "You expect me to believe that wive's tale? Why hasn't anyone gotten it then like the Sith or the Republic?"

"Good reasons," Luco said vaguely, "For one, its impossible to reach. Three black holes on either side of it. And a nebula from clouds the system. Most of the planets of the system have been destroyed from the black holes, but this one is still around. They say its from a Force Nexus"

"Oh Gods, give me a break," James snorted.

"Say what you want, its real!" Luco protested. 'They call it Graveyard."

James nodded, feigning more skepticism "Right, sure."

A gentle Force rub made the lad forget the whole thing--and a bit of convincing made him believe that it too was just a fake. The spacer climbed aboard his interceptor and began to burn through his flight. As he angled up for the orbital tragectory, his eye caught the burning sight of the fight. He pursed his lips for a moment--in the very least he could give this baby a run through her paces. It was new, after all, and he was excited to see what it could do in orbit. He veered off the route and set the new vector towards this conflict, curiosity was one of his few banes.

[member="Thraxis"]

 

[Zef Halo]

Gheleon nodded to the armored man infront of him who had just finished removing the sewer grating and instructed him and the rest of the Witches behind him to give him time before they followed. From what the Mandalorian understood was, the armored man was a higher-ranked Witchmaster and considering the man's care for the Witches' well-being that he was also a good leader. Gheleon felt inspired by the man and with a smile behind his helmet, he moved the grating further away so someone did not trip over it by any chance.

Counting until ten, Gheleon began his climb. He kept his flashlight off as the group was aiming for stealth, the disgusting nature of the sewer did not bother him considering all the nightmares he had to endure while surviving his whole life among the monstrosities of Dxun. With the Witches all climbing the sewer, the element of stealth seemed quite hindered. The Mandalorian's fingers itched for his carbine on the back of his waist but despite the width of the sewer it was quite constricting to movements.

At last, Gheleon got his hands on where the opening was which led, by the looks of it, a secluded chamber with machinery noises echoing throughout the place. He noticed that their leader had taken our his carbine and Gheleon immediately did the same, especially when the sound of footsteps echoed somewhere further. Gheleon turned towards the opening to see a large Mandalorian (Iegoris Verd) having trouble climbing out and he helped him out.

The Mandalorian turned towards the Witchmaster leading the group immediately after and tilting his head twice at the direction of the footsteps. He was sure that the armored man had heard them but Gheleon was more trying to imply a call to action or at least requested to know what was their next move going to be.

His fingers itched to pull the trigger of his EE-3 Carbine when it was needed.




[member="Asemir Lor'kora"] [member="Iegoris Verd"] [member="Herata"] [member="Thraxis"]

OOC: Tagging those directly related to where Gheleon is.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Quite simply, the guards were caught with their pants down. Metaphorically speaking, anyhow. Striding forward, random ornaments in his hair tinking and tacking, he came back to his things, and calmly put back on his robe and rolled his shoulders. Reaching, his hand curled around his staff as his eyes began to glow a bit. Before he stepped into the hell on the other side, he would need power. Raising his hand with the staff, he began to chant... The voice that came from his was deep, guttural. Tinged with rage and violence. Deep and almost atonal. It was not his normal voice that came forth, and the cadence seemed off... The sound a split beat before or after the movement of his lips, like a badly dubbed holoflick.

"Woyunoks hadzuska koshûjontû..."

The air in front of him began to darken and condense, folding into itself, until a perfect replicate of Ostanes was standing in front of him, eyes burning the same virulent amber fire as his own. It looked him up and down, as if impatient, this apparition. It would take the form of the greatest fear it could sense for any it face. A Smoke Demon, called by some. A terror none the less, and deadly. With a wave of his staff, the Witch and Sorcerer gestured his minion forward, stalking slowly behind it as it fled forward in an eager haste for slaughter. While he wouldn't win any duels with a blade, when you had such powers as he, what good was a blade? Still, he kept his left sleeve open, ready to reach for the lightsaber just in case.

Screams began as the summoned fear tore into what enemies it could find nearby. A thin smile flitted across his lips as he followed, not waiting for the others.


[member="Curupira Hawk"] | [member="Sumiko Tanaka"] | [member="Thraxis"] | [member="Asemir Lor'kora"] | [member="Shezi Khoza"] | [member="Gheleon"] | [member="Edison Bulkhead"] | [member="Herata"] | [member="Vulgrim Blackwell"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Thraxis"] [member="James Justice"] [member="Ostanes"] [member="Curupira Hawk"]
The Like Hell, tied into each of the blockade and monitoring flotillas, had a pretty decent idea of the big traffic picture in the Si’Klaata Cluster. At leisure, some of those flotillas forewarned each other of especially rich caravels, and disabled them for salvage. They alerted, too, when ships went against the grain. One such vessel was diving down to the surface of Kintan, down below the Like Hell’s high orbit. Sensors showed it as an unexceptional freighter; a quick and in-depth scan didn’t show it packed to the gills with baradium or anything like that. Not a ploy, Ember intuited. Just a rescue mission. He thought about detonating it regardless, so as to remove the aberrant element and reduce the possibility of things going haywire. At this angle, though, atmospheric effects and the planet’s magnetic field might bend and diffuse turbolaser bolts, enough to turn a certain kill into something merely probable. The Force whispered to let well enough alone, or maybe that was some leftover shred of mercy.

It had been a while since he’d thought about mercy. He decided to exercise it. The evacuation ship could do as it would, unless it got hostile.

“Aliit’buir, Alec reports the fortress is breached. The Witchmasters are inside.”

“Let them know the enemy likely has an evacuation ship incoming. Unless the ship becomes a combatant, they’re to leave it alone and focus on plunder. The fortress’s defenders held the line. I can respect that. Take what’s of worth, wipe out the cult’s presence.”

“Yes, aliit’buir. I’ll pass the word.”

“They escape with their lives, not their property. We’ve got mouths to feed.”

“Understood.”

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Witches and warriors streamed into the fortress. Her immediate task done, Alec activated her repulsor belt and soared up out of the crevice.

As the directives from orbit played through Alec’s helmet, she killed her repulsors and dropped through a library window and the cultist behind it. Sorcery burned paint off her duraplast armor and pitted the chestplate. A hard-sound gun cracked his skull like an egg.

The place felt cold, even with her armor’s environmental controls and bodysuit. Force-attuned but deliberately untrained, she still recognized the familiar sensation of the Dark Side. With a brisk shiver, she opened a belt pouch, removed a folded-up, ultra-thin backpack, and put it on over her armor. She began stuffing books inside, in large quantities, uninterested in sorting. They would go to the Witchmasters’ growing library and the Rekali clan’s archive, right there alongside similar materials from the two Mayferria raids. Subscription fees and artifact auctions made for a good chunk of change, even if these books meant less to her than her daily consumption of MandoBurger.

Once her bag was full, she stomped into the next room. That fething Maelibus was in here, reading a book that just about stank of genuine power, like a couple of the ones in her bag. She thought of taking it, but a man was entitled to his spoils, even if -- to the best of her knowledge -- he hadn’t seen any genuine action. So she unfolded another bag, strapped it to her leg, and started filling that one.

 

[Amun]

Theater One
Allies: [member="Gheleon"], [member="Asemir Lor'kora"]

The lead Witchmaster, Asemir, had completed making a hole within the complex infrastructure of the castle which was an entry way through the disgusting sewers of the castle. After Asemir had cut through his way of the grating the man would be the first one to enter through the damaged gratings and check if this was a safe passage for the squad of Witchmasters to enter. Then the fellow Mandalorian followed Asemir and hesitating for a couple of seconds Iegoris would follow the same path that his comrades had entered. He pulled himself into the sewer and started to climb the pipes that those ahead of him had done. His right cybernetic arm, with augmented strength, helped him to not lose grip of the pipelines he was climbing. Yet it was difficult to manage through the climb due to limited movement of his heavy beskar'kandar.

Once he was near the finish line he received the help of the Mandalorian and found his feet standing on the flooring of the furnace or whatever room the Cartel called it. "Thanks," the bulky Verd said to Gheleon and saw that both of his comrades had their weapons out. Doing the same thing the Conscript's hands went to his mace rather than his scattergun. His heavy repeated was left behind, since it would've caused him to lose balance during the first stage of the castle's infiltration. "Is this the part we go guns blazing," the Mandalorian asked to Asemir and awaited for further instructions.

 

[Asemir]

Asemir had heard the footsteps as well, and he nodded an acknowledgement towards @Gheleon. It was good to have skilled people at his back. He waited for the final member of his team to pull herself out of the sewer, but at the same time, he strained to follow the footsteps. It was tough, as the sound echoed through the stone hallways, but the Force told him they were nearing. It would be soon.

When the Jawa appeared, Asemir nodded towards big Mandalorian. "This is the part. Guns blazing. Hold one." A gentle beeping in his helmet alerted him to an incoming transmission. It took but a moment to digest the message. "Change of plans. New orders," the Forgotten said, "Self-defense only. Don't go out hunting for everyone. No slaughter. They've got a ship incoming to retreat to, and we're supposed to honor that retreat. Instead plunder the place. Find and steal anything and everything of value."

The footsteps were thundering. The time had come.

"As for those guys," Asemir said as he ignited his lightsaber and pointed it at the door, "we can take them apart. Grab some cover, or do whatever you do best." The last he added with a hint of a grin that was hidden behind his helmet.

Dropping into a defensive stance, Asemir turned towards the door. "Here we go!" he said just as Alpha Squad breached the furnace room.

[member="Herata"]
[member="Iegoris Verd"]

OOC:
Feel free to RP the fight any way you'd like. I may be away this weekend, it'll be pretty busy, so please don't hold back on account of me. Post and plunder!

 

[Edison Bulkhead]

The hole in the wall had become significantly larger as Edison and her beast troop hammered their way through it and into the fortress. Several troops who had thought to remain behind in a show of false bravery were trampled as they tried to flee; the onrushing monsters would not be halted by such figures.

Word from [member="Ember Rekali"] had reached her comm: non-combatants were to be left alone to evacuate if they chose to. That was fine with her.

Leading from atop her rancor, Edison turned a corner into a wide corridor and pulled hard on the creature's reins, relaxing her knees as a signal to halt and touching the beast with the Force. Ahead of her, a group of younglings led by an older female pulled up short, their eyes wide with fear.

"Stop! Please stop! These are my students!" cried the woman.

Edison tilted her head, regarding the woman, then motioned by tossing her head to the right. "Go. You have safe passage. Tell everyone, wherever you go, how the Witchmasters spared your lives."

The rancor tracked the group with its massive head as they passed. Edison's Force-heightened senses could smell the urine from a student who's bladder had failed with fear. Behind them, the Kintan striders shuffled uneasily back and forth, grunting and waiting for the opportunity to rage once more.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

In fairly short order, Alec's bags were full. Books and scrolls of every kind weighed her down. She hefted her final backpack, then frowned. Kneeling against a half-empty bookcase, she fished through the pack. Adrenaline and haste had contributed to, well, negligence. Most of the intense weight came from a single item, and she hadn't noticed that. With effort, she pulled out a metal-clad book. Her eyes narrowed, then widened under her helmet, as she recognized the sleek gray-black metal. Neuranium. This stuff was worth serious coin -- maybe not as much as the library itself, but plenty nonetheless. With a grunt, she slid the book back into her pack and added the rest of the books that she'd displaced. She stood and shouldered the load again, then shot a fallen cultist in the head in case his twitch turned out to be a surreptitious reach for a weapon. Comms intercepts said the castle had fallen, and the looting would begin in earnest.

 

[Asemir]

The fighting didn't take very long. Less than a minute by his estimate, and that was to be expected. It was utter foolishness to charge a room defended by entrenched fighters, especially when one of those fighters was a Forgotten-Sith-Lord-type person. Suffice it to say, Alpha Squad no longer existed.

Asemir Lor'kora returned Night Terror to its sheathe with practiced ease and stepped out of the furnace room. He led his small team of Witches forward and having sensed no other defenders, motioned for them to start searching the Fortress.

"Remember our orders," the With Elder said as he forced open a door, "spare anyone who's trying to flee. But if they attack, you are welcome to defend yourself. Focus on finding loot."

He looked around the room. Asemir wasn't a sorcerer so he wasn't trained to identify trinkets and tomes and all that stuff, but he knew what they looked like, and this room wasn't a library for sure. Lots of shelves and storage crates. He was very certain that books and scrolls weren't stored in metal boxes. But he decided to investigate nonetheless.

After prying open one of the crates, he stepped back and let out a low whistle. Packed within its foamed interior were several crystals. He was certain, but he suspected what they were used for, or could be used for. Lightsabers. Quite interesting.

The Forgotten gently pulled them from the crate, wrapped some packaging foam around them, and stuffed them in his pack. His curiosity piqued, he began searching the other crates. Maybe they also contained treasures.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

As he stalked forward, the shi'ido had in mind the library. So he shifted his appearance to match a dead guard, and stowed his robes for the guards clothes. The man was an officer, so thank the Force there was something of a pistol and no rifle to hold. Strapping on the various bits of kit rather clumsily, he strode forward, staff still in hand, the Smoke Demon wreaking havoc as they began to walk again. Resistance was pitiful, and almost wholly futile at this point really. A few soldiers here and there gave minor resistance, to which various means were employed to destroy them utterly. His force presence roiled out in a sickening cloud, leaning on Obeah to augment his knowledge of Sith Magic and empower his spells more and more beyond their norm... One would almost think this planet was worthless, with how minimal the effort was.

But he knew the cult who often held sway over the planet. It would seem the lords of this place, the Hutts, however did not... The Cult of M'dweshuu had intriguing blood-rites and rituals, and had over the years had quite a few bits of information. Wouldn't call it a crafting tradition, per se... But they were specialists in the magic of blood rites, and he hoped now that the army seemed in disarray, he could find some knowledge to that end. Shrinking down his flagrant and flamboyant Force Aura, he entered the library and immediately found a secluded shelf to begin changing out of his disguise and into another, face flowing back to that of the Thamaturge Ostanes.

He could have just used a spell or the Force... But one had to conserve ones strength. So he hefted his staff, silver mask concealing all of his identity, and strode forth in white robes seeking knowledge.


[member="Curupira Hawk"] | [member="Sumiko Tanaka"] | [member="Thraxis"] | [member="Asemir Lor'kora"] | [member="Shezi Khoza"] | [member="Edison Bulkhead"] | [member="Herata"] | [member="Vulgrim Blackwell"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Titles flashed before his eyes, and some he took whilst others he ignored. There was no real time yet to sort through the books, so those he could feel faint traces of Sorcery from went into the bag at his side without haste. Those with particularly interesting titles as well. Later, he would read them, copy them, and then give them to the Clan Father to secure. A few contained legitimate bits of knowledge on Sith Magic, and he wondered a bit about the roots of the Cult on this planet, and just where and why they would know such obvious Sith oriented things, but call them their own... Splinter-cell of magic? Divergent evolution from a common source? The possibilities were endless, but Obeah and his own mind, or maybe just Obeah, jittered in impatience.

Putting the book he had flipped open which contained instruction on 'Drain Knowledge' in a more ritualized fashion than a simple Force Power, Ostanes opened up a comm channel directly to [member="Ember Rekali"], to inform him of his where-abouts and what precisely he was doing. The Clan Father and Witch King valued knowledge as much or more than the Thamaturge himself. So letting him know of this haul would be infinitely useful, really. Clearing his throat, he spoke finally, in hushed tones.

"Clan Father.. I have gained access to the Library, and am beginning a cursory search. Pulling the more dangerous or obvious books... There may be a few others in here with me. I will do what I can to secure the best prizes, within reason. We have pretty much destroyed their defenses, and what remains is merely rabble and detritus, nothing more. Ostanes..."

[member="Curupira Hawk"] | [member="Sumiko Tanaka"] | [member="Thraxis"] | [member="Asemir Lor'kora"] | [member="Shezi Khoza"] | [member="Edison Bulkhead"] | [member="Herata"] | [member="Vulgrim Blackwell"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

His report complete, Ostanes settled in with his staff over his knees, beginning to more thoroughly go over some of the tomes that held a more obvious aura or trace of the Arcane... Nothing was really detected, not truly, but some of them turned out to be mostly rehashes of other cultures. These he took notes of on his data-slate, cataloging the differences and convergences, his eidetic memory copying the source material he drew his annotations and conclusion from. Some day, he might write his own magnum opus, his own holocron or something of the like. It wouldn't teach a seeker to be some brutish warlord, but contain every secret of the Arcane he could manage. And maybe a further surprise even.

Mind whirling, the dataslate filled with notations in an unexpected area. It would appear that, like a few other are incidents, the Cult tied its' rituals to their 'diety' in a more common sense way. The star nearby they worshiped appeared to have a tangible effect on their rites and practices. Large celestial bodies influencing the Force was often dismissed as superstition of the ancient ages in things like Astrology and the like. But here it was in black and white. Their powers were stronger during certain cycles and phases and positions of the star. Even down to the position of the planet relative to it for specific rites.

Now, granted, this was all drawn from their rituals, and he doubted the Cult understood it how he did... Nor did he wish to figure out every secret of them... But the theory was sound... Very sound. And if he took and applied it to other Arts he knew, maybe, just maybe, he could make something such that he might begin to unravel or create a crafting tradition that, within it, contained the best elements of all the current. A parent art lost to history, or the next step in evolution and union of the Arcane and its' schools. The prospect excited him, and he realized for once he legitimately had the resources to possibly make this an actual reality.. And so he wrote faster, mind moving furiously.

[member="Curupira Hawk"] | [member="Sumiko Tanaka"] | [member="Thraxis"] | [member="Asemir Lor'kora"] | [member="Shezi Khoza"] | [member="Edison Bulkhead"] | [member="Herata"] | [member="Vulgrim Blackwell"]