Populate Our Finest Hour | SO Populate of Mustafar

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

"The monster is monstrous, who would have guessed?" Malum retorted back, attempting confidence, but having only a slight quiver at his lips. The lighting was to bring him time, but instead, Lirka had seemingly shrugged it off without effort or feeling. That was extremely unfortunate for him all things considered.

His mind focused entirely on the duel in front of him, the smoke of fire from the nearby buildings left him, the fire of blasters impacting and trailing disappeared, and the crushed bodies of those that certainly did not deserve this was ignored.

They would be avenged.

But that would require him to survive, that would require him to win.

And both of these seemed extremely uphill battles.

His eyes widened as the liquid carbonite shot towards him, leaping backward, he resisted cringing, resisted the disgust as he felt some body part squished underneath him, the grey matter, and the blood pooling by his boot, as the cost, the real cost of the invasion continued to sink into him deep. This was the Sith capital, their enemy was Sith, and they had brought blood and destruction to it.

They would pay.

This creature, this monster, was more machine than biotic. He would need to find the weaknesses of such a being.

Malum rose his free hand to the sky, his fingers pointing the heavens.

Closing his eyes for a moment, confident that he had gained Lirka's attention. Malum snapped his fingers.

And the Sun exploded.

Or at the very least, that was the intensity of the light that emerged out of his fingers, enough to blind any man who might have looked at it.

And giving him the opportunity to charge.

Pressing onward, his lightsaber drawn, his feet charging across skin, bones, and blood. He would cut this creature in half, this slave and champion of the failed Emperor.

Then, he would have his vengeance on him too.

Lirka Ka

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Dark Lord of the Kainate watched the dialogue between Darth Empyrean and Srina Talon in silence, not deigning to interrupt either of them as they spoke. Carnifex had fully intended on fighting an even greater battle with the Lord of the Eternalists right here and now, but Srina's intervention had altered the fate of many; exactly how many was impossible to ascertain. The timetable had now shifted, and events were conspiring much earlier than anticipated. Fortunately, the Dark Lord had planned for many eventualities.

"The Rift awaits, Empyrean. It is there where the fate of all will be decided." Then Empyrean was gone, and soon the force that had come to Mustafar would follow. This was now a crucial moment, and the Dark Lord needed to alert the Malsheem and the force assailing Jutrand to begin the next phase of the operation. With His adversary departed, Carnifex activated His personal communicator. First, He activated the encrypted code that would inform the Malsheem to depart Jutrand. A token force would remain behind to continue assaulting the capital, to keep the Eternalists briefly pinned down for the time being.

Second, He opened a channel directly to Darth Xyrah . "Empyrean has withdrawn, Lord Xyrah. I will be following shortly. Deploy your forces to secure the rest of Mustafar, and then join me personally at the rendezvous." With all of that done, He could not turn His attention back to Srina Talon. Their pact still held, and He would not little to prevent her from leaving if she wished. He walked closer to her, standing only a few paces away.

"What will you do now, Srina? I am heading into the Kathol Rift, to finally seize that which I have long coveted. I will not stand in your way if you desire to join Empyrean, nor will I reject your presence should you wish to come with me. All that we spoke of before is still in place, the oath I swore remains unbroken." Already, the skies above Mustafar were beginning to empty of fighting forces, the warble and din of battle fading away until only the sounds of the lava flow nearby remained.

"It is also understandable should you wish to remain alone, until this is concluded."

​

"Your arrogance blinds you."

The two stood opposite of one another, only a few scant meters separating them. Demiurge towered over the Pale Assassin, a pillar of lithe muscle and coiled anger. Ophidia, by contrast, was wreathed in shadow, an enigma upon reality. Their weapons were drawn, but neither moved to engage the other. For now, the sizzle of their lightsabers were the only sounds passed between them.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Demiurge moved to strike. His movements, empowered by the Dark Side, were as quick as they were lethal; every move leveraged against his desire to see Ophidia dead. Though not the peerless warrior his other half was, Demiurge was still an accomplished and terrifying swordsman. Their last confrontation was testament to this, where both Sith Lords moved faster than the eye could register. This would be no different, the sparks where their blades met sending spouts of plasmatic flame out into the room.

Demiurge was an acrobat, moving quickly and never planting his feet for very long. Lunges, jumps, pirouettes; he struck fast, he struck hard, and never the same place twice. The debris scattered about the room was subject to his will, consoles torn free from their moorings to sail through the air like missiles, cables and wires yanked free to try and ensnare Ophidia's limbs. Lightning likewise flashed from his fingertips, scorching the air with the noxious stench of ozone, leaving molten grooves in the metal floor where the bolts missed their mark.

He could sense the shift in atmosphere, the entire Malsheem beginning to move in high orbit. He knew then that the tide was indeed beginning to shift, and that could only mean one thing.

"Empyrean is on his way back," stated Demiurge, without fear or worry. This was planned, anticipated. "Which means all is proceeding as we have foreseen."

Darth Empyrean | Srina Talon | Darth Ophidia ​

 

[Darth Xyrah]

Darth Xyrah noticed the sudden departure of the Mors Mon. It seems the plan had gone just as his master had foreseen. It was soon followed by a transmission from him. "Empyrean has withdrawn, Lord Xyrah. I will be following shortly. Deploy your forces to secure the rest of Mustafar, and then join me personally at the rendezvous.", Carnifex commanded. "Very good, my love. My forces have already largely annihilated the troops Empyrean deployed here. I shall have my armies secure all vital strongholds and allow any surviving hostiles the opportunity to retreat to spread word of their defeat at our hands. Otherwise they will be annihilated. I shall proceed to the rendezvous as soon as I've finished here.", he said in response before the transmission ended.

He turned to one of his Super Tactical Droids. "Broadcast a transmission to the enemy forces. Inform them their Emperor has fled with his tail between his legs, and that they will be receiving no further support from above. Tell them I will mercifully allow them to depart from this world unharmed if they provide no further hostilities. Victory belongs to the Kainate this day. Hopefully that'll bait my intended prizes to come here more swiftly", he said with a contented nod.

Darth Temerant
Darth Strosius
Darth Carnifex

 

[Srina Talon]

Darth Empyrean | Darth Carnifex
_________________________________________________________​

The words of Empyrean were biting, without intent.

Srina knew that he was trying to bring some measure of closure or reason to the predicament that they found themselves so deeply entangled—But knowing, did not soothe the inherent sting. It was a very metaphysical slap in the face, that would only be returned tenfold in her current state. It made her teeth grind even harder when the shell of her husband lifted thoughts from her head that she had not yet found the wherewithal to verbalize. When she regarded him…There would be a severe sharpness to her gaze that he would not recognize. A silent, brutal, warning.

Maliphant had never known a time when she had not regarded him professionally, fondly, and respectfully. He did not know what his wife looked like outside of that connection. He would never see the Srina Talon that the rest of the galaxy whispered about because he didn't know his Dread Queen, Empress, when she was not in love with him.

Her eyes would be cruel while he regarded his love for her.

For their children. For the family he had not only asked for but convinced her to have. Only to take it away with the casual mention of his death. There seemed to be no fight left in him.

Just a ticking clock.

She said nothing when his words finished and Darth Empyrean heeded her call to end this foolishness. The words that he gave to Darth Carnifex were just as severe as her threat had been, though they came at a cost. The Kainate forces could view the withdrawal as a victory, however, their leader would know the truth. As would she. Against all odds, reason, that they had bent to her command.

For her wishes.

Not their own.

Srina soon found herself alone on Mustafar with the Butcher King. He issued directives without fear of her overhearing and the pale-skinned near-human merely remained silent while he did so. Taking the moment to find her footing. To accept that Empyrean had left the surface of the planet without her. Knowing, she could follow. It was likely the reason Eternalist forces lingered in the burnt orange and blistering skyline. Her jaw was still set tight.

Seconds ticked by that slowly turned into minutes.

Darth Carnifex approached and the subtle rumble of his footsteps caused her gaze to draw up from the cracked landscape. Ivory hair twisted and turned, lifting in the wind the heat created, and he would find that her rage had not subsided. It was there. Burning, beneath the surface of a mercury mirror. The distance between them was meager enough that she could close it without any effort at all. The effects of his cold black armor should have staggered her. His presence should have curled her soul and burnt it to ash. Should have. For many reasons, known and unknown, it did not.

"You could have used the favor I promised. Empyrean knows, now."

It was statement, not a question. Even with the caveat that Carnifex had agreed to…He could have called in what he was owed and she would have been bound to depart and allow the fight to continue. Her head tilted and corrupted eyes seemed to see through his hulking mass. Flickering, golden orbs. The fact that he hadn't called on such a useful tool meant that this outcome wasn't undesirable to his goals. It meant that the tool could be used later for far greater effect and purpose. The game was still afoot. A pale hand rose and slapped, hard, against the front of his armor. It hurt her more than him, obviously. "…I cannot see you in this."

His visage was all but obscured. Just as she despised masks, in this instance, his armor also left something to be desired. She preferred to view those she spoke to unadorned and unhidden behind baubles and metallic shields. To see them as they were meant to be so that she might understand their truth. Not the morality of it—Merely to discern fact from fiction.

"Can you not speak plainly of what this is all for?"

Did he not realize that the more the former Triumvirate fought amongst themselves the more the Sith began to fray, choose sides, and dissolve? They left themselves open to attack from outside forces by constantly warring with each other. It was beyond the point of exhausting, wrangling, and entertaining such willful younglings. Empyrean fought so hard to find a way to rid them of the Worm once and for all. Carnifex, also wanted the foul beast dead. They both sought greater heights. There was so much crossover in their goals that they were hardly in opposition. What was the point of all this? What was the reason, if not, just bending the knee to tradition? "…If either of you could manage to contain your hate…For just a moment…"

For more than her life—Though that seemed to be what it took. An impossible bargaining chip.

"You would both see that not all that you desire must be gained through fire. The rest of us could stop running around in carefully constructed circles, chasing our own tails, while feigning blindness."

The battles of veritable gods spilling out into the masses was an unnecessary waste and largely pointless. Even, if it was the diversion that it seemed to be. She had warned Carnifex that her husband would not stop, could not, so many moons ago. This was no different. His words had proven that he had a single-minded focus. One of them, or both, would die. "I've seen both of you die in my dreams…Over and over. Never the same way twice. When I see my own death to follow…I cannot help but feel that they are all real."

She wanted the Worm gone…But just as they had been unwilling to sacrifice her or their word—

Srina was, stubbornly, unwilling to sacrifice them. The future required them just as much as it needed her children. Her hand remained on the front of his armor for the moment as if that might will it away. As if it would somehow provide a sliver of her thoughts so that he might understand why she had come to Mustafar. The unenlightened would make an assumption that was obvious, however, they would be wrong. The Echani was also aware that his supplicants would rage for the audacity of her closeness…But her mind heeded them not. Carnifex was fully grown and capable of minding himself in the face of a pregnant woman half his size.

"…You are not so different…Why do you run?"

 

[Lliara Daeva]

Lliara crouched down in the shadows high over the floor below. Her golden eyes peered down through a window to the two exchanging their opening moves. Ophidia was one of them, of course, which was the only reason the Mirialan had paused there. The other was Carnifex. No, Demiurge. An exciting clash to be sure. Perhaps, if Lliara had any desire to become Empress herself, one she'd even be tempted to jump into foolishly.

Fortunately, the years had burned away the desire to spend every waking hour overseeing the actions of people more adept at backstabbing one another than building an eternal empire. Well, the galaxy did hate stagnation. It bent toward entropy. It was the greatest challenge to overcome in her pursuit of stepping outside the boundaries imposed by the System -- the universe itself.

She turned her head to peer back up at the Malsheem.

Ophidia would hold her own. Demiurge would regroup. The only other option was Demiurge conquering Jutrand. In either case, it would be worthwhile to know location of the Kainates. Far more productive than hampering Ophidia and being harassed by Demiurge's shadows. Lliara always did prefer an efficient plan.

She bounded back down the exterior and set off into the chaos. First, she'd need to find a high-ranking officer. Someone important, or of self-importance at any rate. Someone with authorized access to the Malsheem so Lliara could get close enough without being shot straight out of the sky. Then Lliara would introduce them to a special cocktail of hers to help them warm up to her. She was quite pleasant company once you were under her spell.

Darth Ophidia | Darth Carnifex

 

[Lirka Ka]

His words hit her and immediately drab boredom came over Lirka's foul form. How disappointing. But what else could she have expected out of a mere boy? What did he know about how to jab and dance like the great champions Lirka had become accustomed to, but this...moral outrage. It felt more befitting of a Jedi. How pitiful.

"When I first looked upon you, foolishly reaching out for knowledge I saw some sort of potential. A child looking for answers that would ultimately lead you to the same answers I found. Naïve intelligence paving way for enlightenment."

Lirka was almost disappointed to watch Darth Malum of House Marr leap over the stream, hoping to have had the chance to shatter the boy's frozen form. But alas, another time. She did not react yet, instead continuing to lay in her utter disappointment in what her "interviewer" had become.

"But it seems I was the fool, ultimately. There is no intelligence with you, Sithling. You are the most profoundly stupid disappointment I have ever had the misfortune of meeting in this blighted Galaxy."

As if to capstone her point, his blast of light came out: sending the monstrous mechanoid into a stagger as struggled to regain her vision. Letting loose a low, rumbling laugh. His blade bit into the fresh armor plating of her suit, but still the metal fought against his cut: stopping him from cleanly slicing through her.

"You fight like a Jedi too."

While she may have been blind, Lirka did the one thing that seemed proper: she threw herself forward, relying on the stopped momentum from his strike to try and use her body weight to throw Malum to the bloodied ground. It was time to teach this boy a lesson he wouldn't forget anytime soon.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Its words swirled up like the hurricane, the typhoon, a force of nature swelling up to strike down anything that would dare threaten it, anything that stood in its path, its only desire not to make him bow, not to make him bend, but to break him. The water moved like a deluge across the water's edge, those that would have seen it, were long since promised death.

It was a good thing then, that he was not one of those peons.

He was the earth, resolute, steadfast, unyielding.

He would not bow, he would not bend, he would not break.

The waves of its words crashed into him, with the full force to throw him away, crack his resolve, but he stood adamant.

To compare him to Jedi, to call him stupid and a disappointment? What were they to a man who simply did not care?

Those words were uttered from a failure, one which had fled from the Confederacy as it fell.

A failure who had failed its failure of an Emperor as his Empire fell.

A failure who had failed to take their throne.

What were those words to a man who had fought Jedi, had spoken to them, had felt them? Who knew the history, that no matter how the followers of the Light were fools, to say they lacked strength, was the height of arrogance. The Jedi had battled the Sith across millennia, and they had proved victorious almost every single time, which could only mean one of two options. The Jedi were strong, or the Sith were weak.

And the Sith were not weak.

Thus he gave the monster the silence that it deserved, instead he took the taunts and insults, and internalised them within his mind. All the rage, all the anger, all the sorrow that he should have felt, he made into strength, made into energy, made into power.

Everything it would do to him, the monster would feel in return.

As the monster pressed forward, in an attempt to crush him between it and the bloodied floor, he realised, posterity had no use any longer here, reaching down to his side, he pulled out and activated his second lightsaber, red plasma hissing against the air, as he slashed, to fulfill his objective to cut it in half.

Or at the very least, free both blades, as he would leap back again, and consider his options.

He had been there when the monster and Alisteri had fought, the creature had withdrawn from that fight if his memory recalled.

Perhaps there was something to emulate from his fellow apprentice.

Lirka Ka Darth Moskvin Lliara Daeva Darth Carnifex

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Darth Malum of House Marr Lirka Ka Darth Moskvin Lliara Daeva Darth Carnifex
Objective II
Jutrand.​

Last time they had fought, Ophidia had been preoccupied with unlocking the vaults to the Ur'lich. Her illusory self had been what fought Demiurge, but this time he would witness the full focus of her wrath.

Just as quickly as Demiurge sprang into action, Darth Ophidia launched her counterassault. The lightsabers thrummed as they cut the air and screamed as they collided and slid against one another. Flashes of released plasmatic energy and sparks of superheated metal flew aound them as one red blade clashed with one green one. Where Demiurge was an acrobat, Darth Ophidia was like a dancer. Every step, every motion was light, yet planted. Every motion was exact and swift. Where he hit strongly, she redirected his force to make his swings wide and retorted with swift and exact slashes of her fine blade.

It was a very different dance from the last time they clashed.

The single blade lashed and moved so swiftly one would be forgiven for thinking she wielded two already. Cables and debris was cut and cleft and redirected effortlessly through her dance, while she placed traps of her own by turning the tiles of the floor floor into a mine-field of jagged metal pieces, through which she could deftly navigate.

It was only upon close inspection as one of the cables snared her right arm that one might see,: She did not only cut with her blade, but with her hand. It rent by a swift twist of her arm, as if her very skin was a knife on its own.

"If you run, then I will hunt you."

The lightning carved the air, thrown by Demiurge, absorbed by Ophidia, then thrown back as a spear of midnight black that sheared through matter like a scalpel through flesh.

"You, Empyrean, Talon, none of you can hide from me."