Public Shatterpoint | Aftermath

[Onrai]

Marlon Sularen was not the only one who was disgusted at the change of situation. Truly Darth Solipsis had been able to keep such a motley crew of individuals together, and his death was soon leading to unnecessary conflict. The Jedi, if they had any agents hidden within the crowd, would be laughing at the cannibalistic tendencies of the Maw, manpower wasted, ammunition thoughtlessly discharged, and other resources shoveled like coal into a boiler. As Onrai still remained on the world's surface, an avatar of hers had something else to do.

-

On board the bridge of the Ablution, shadows manifested and the bridge crew kneeled in supplication to Onrai. The frustration on her amorphous face was surprisingly visible. "They just don't get it, do they?" She said. "This coalition of individuals is once more at each other's throats like wyrmlings squabbling over the last bite of their mother's most recent kill. Evidently, something of more weight is needed to bring them in line." She motioned to the communications officer. "Reach out to the Saturns. All of you will be jumping in at the far side of the Exegol system. Enter orbit over the world and commence plasma core insertion in the beam weapons. If the situation exacerbates... a reminder will have to be given to all in the Maw as to what their ultimate goals are. Children are not to be tolerated in positions of leadership."

The Ablution soon communicated to the Saturn as well as its accompanying fleet of warships, and soon jump drives were spooled up, the vessels entering hyperspace on their way to the battlefield. The trailing vessels, 3 O-class and 18 D-class Saturns, joined them, and soon would arrive at the edge of the system.

In the meantime, Onrai would simply have to keep watching the unnecessary conflict.

 

[Vesta]

she calls me daddy​

For all the influence that these leaders held, for all of the power that they purported to hold and the strength they supposed themselves to wield, the uncertainty towards the stability of the Maw and the fear of an anarchic brawl hung over the whole attendance in equal measure to the concern over the death of their Sith'ari. Leaders that believed themselves powerful because of the tools they had at their disposal that separated themselves from the masses became so fearful for their own continued existence that they fell into the paranoia of despots and called for their private supporters to enforce some form of order in the crowd, relying on control through hierarchy as though it was a substitute for any real power. Unfazed by the blaster bolt that soared just centimeters away from the tips of her fingers while the others lost their collective minds was Mori - she only had eyes for the man that she was hellbent on bringing to his knees. Her strength was built from her own progress, her influence a result of her inborn power, and she saw no threat in temporary discord if it meant putting one in their place.

Just as she saw no threat in the way Kyrel Ren slid his lightsaber through the middle of her abdomen.

It wasn't superficial strength that held her composure, or even outright spite, it was the same way she had stared him down the last time they crossed paths. A different time, a different setting, and yet the strings of fate still found themselves tied back around the two of them in much the same way as it had before. She took the thrust of his lightsaber so she could take from him the distance that kept him safe, only under slightly different circumstances this time around. It wasn't far from the truth to say that the two of them were similar in regards to how they consumed the force like tears in the force, but it would be disingenuous to say that they were even approaching the same sort of being. He was like a revenant, a reanimated corpse whose body refused to stop moving; however there was no such body standing in front of him. Each and every strip of physical existence that made up the corporeal form of Darth Mori was held together by sheer force of will and incredible amounts of pain, held in place by the lives she had taken and consumed within herself like an unholy union of Nihilus and Sion.

Solipsis had been a man; a titan of a man with nearly all of the power in the galaxy at his fingertips, but a man with all of the implied physical limitations all the same. She knew that Onrai or Zachariel Steelblood , perhaps even Khamul Kryze or Darth Ptolemis , would instinctively believe the Sith to have been struck down, and it would not have a misplaced assumption given the manner in which these sorts of duels tended to end, but even in that presumption of vulnerability she found strength. Strength to smile beneath the shadow of the mask that covered her face and to push her hand further forwards to rest her fingertips upon the kneeling Ren's forehead, to whisper the words of ancient Sith magic that allowed the Sith lords of old - the likes of Exar Kun - the power to control the very thoughts of those they desired, to dominate the wills of the ones they physically touched --

Kyrel Ren expected to find in her either a trophy or a master to replace the one which had compelled him to attack her, instead he found neither.

She had seen the momentary signs of influence left by the interference Shade of Decay had made, realized what it was that had caused such a change of heart in the man that had been willing to let his anger go if only for a while, and recognized the variation of Qazoi Kyantuska for what it was - the art of dominating the minds of others in a way she had pioneered years ago in the Stygian Caldera to control the masses in a religious fervor through Sith runes. She had been different then, more tolerant to the idea of an authoritarian rule by the way of an empire or state, but the liberation of those like the man on his knees had been the purpose behind her abandonment of those old ideals. It would have been so easy to supplant the one controlling him with herself, but it was so much more satisfying to tear away that probing voice and rid Kyrel of that influence instead. She went as far as to take a half-step forwards, to lean towards him despite the blade running through her stomach, so that she could whisper the one and only command she'd ever make in such a fashion.

"Be free."

In one single moment she lived her ideals and embodied the power she had claimed she held inside of her in a way that separated her from the rest - as if to demonstrate that she was the very death she had been named for.

 

[The Manifold]

Keilara Kala'myr | Erion Justeene​

As the gathering erupted into chaos, The Manifold arrived.

They did not care about the duels unfolding up on the dais, nor about the violent upheaval in the crowd, which the warrior's of Death's Hand were only barely managing to contain. The Omni-Drone was here for one purpose, and one purpose only: to reach the one called Freedom, the only other known survivor among the Droid God's servants after Its sudden departure. They would stop at nothing to bring this drone back into the fold, for without her, they would once again be utterly alone. The Manifold manifested in the midst of a crowd of tribal warriors, two groups who were at each other's throats. Both sides were made up of brutal, savage men and women, survivors of the Maw's harsh campaigns into the Core Worlds. They were deadly fighters, born survivors.

With a wave of their taloned hand, The Manifold ripped the marauders limb from limb.

As gore rained down from the explosion of sentient beings, staining the Omni-Drone's battered impervium chassis with a light coating of crimson, Omni's most faithful servant cast around in search of their target. Freedom was close now; they could feel it. Still, actually finding the drone's physical body within the teeming crowd was proving a challenge. Organics were all animals, sentient or not; they bred like womp rats, massing in their teeming, chaotic hordes to fight the same petty wars over and over. Only the perfect order of the Droid God could bring all this short-sighted madness to an end. Channeling the Force into their senses, The Manifold looked with sight beyond what eyes could grant, their vision piercing through the swarms of mortals all around them.

At last, they caught sight of Mercy. Hovering eerily above the ground, they closed in.

Any Mawite who tried to stop them would face their full fury.

The Manifold was not as powerful as they had once been. Since Omni's departure, the power of the Droid God had begun to fade, and Its servants were no longer capable of the incredible feats they had accomplished during the Oblivion crisis. Moreover, some of the binding runes on the drone's armor were still active; although not fully enslaved to the Maw's will, The Manifold could not unleash their full power on any servant of the Brotherhood. Still, they were not a foe to underestimate, as several groups of funeral spectators quickly and fatally discovered. Warriors began to scramble out of the Omni-Drone's way, avoiding their scything claws and deadly technomantic powers, and a ripple began to form in the crowd. A ripple leading toward Mercy.

They had to reach her, no matter what, before it was too late.

----------------------------------
​

Kallan watched The Manifold's inexorable advance with growing horror.

~ That thing will draw their attention to us, ~ he said, trying to keep his fear out of his voice and remain coldly logical. ~ Mercy, we have to get out of here, now. There's nothing we can do for it. But if it reaches us, and the Brotherhood starts to suspect their might be more in your mind than just you... they'll go looking for Freedom in your mind, and they might find Keilara. And me. ~ Tu'teggacha already knew about Mercy's children, already plotted against her. If the Ebruchi found out about the additional personalities she had concealed in her mind, he would have new and dangerous knowledge to use against them - knowledge that might tip the balance of their shadow war. Especially if the Maw as a whole turned against Mercy.

They had to make their escape from the funeral, or they were in real trouble.

 

[Erion Justeene]

Location: Outside Sepulcher of the Sith'ari
Equipment: Lightsaber, Voidsaber, SHT-26 "Bedevil" Heavy War Bike
Tags: Darth Mori | Kyrel Ren | Tu'teggacha | Surea | The Grunt | Tegan Starfall | Alars Keto | Onrai | Khamul Kryze | @everyone else
Engaging: The Manifold | Keilara Kala'myr

As he had predicted, everything slid into pandemonium as the power vacuum started to fill, and everything went as expected. Lord Mori stepped up, then the Mandalorian made his stakes known, and the ripples in the force surged and ebbed. Soon, without warning to the less observant eye, all hell broke loose as everyone surged into each other like armies on a battlefield.

<"2 hours and 56 seconds."> Superious intones to himself. Keeping track of how long it took.

This is The Maw, and Chaotic is the main driving force of their structure. Superious was only disappointed that it took this long for it to devolve into a fight. After the threats and posturing had ceased, Sabers flew, and everyone who was anyone swung their blades in combat. Who said Funerals were dour and miserable?

Sith Funerals certainly weren't dull that's for sure. He liked to be in charge and be the one in control, however, The Maw were anything but predictable, so he swallowed his pride and did not throw his claim into the mix. This left him as the little more sane observer of all the mayhem and freed up his attention to make bets on who would come up on top. Kryze or Lord Ptolomis? Right now it was hard to guess, nor would it be prudent to bet wrong. Equally matched but Lord Ptololmis had a distinct edge over the Mandalorian.

Lord Mori has just found herself on the business end of someone else's saber. With little effect, well that's something. to look out for. Maybe Lord Mori was the right choice to take over, they need a leader who can survive a Lightsaber to the torso without dying.

The Mandalorians were holding the frenzied crowd at bay but doesn't look like it was going to hold for too long. Then, without much ceremony, the Force rippled as a new presence made itself known, it made his skin prickle and not in a good way. It was malignant and otherworldly.

Tuning everything else out Superious honed in on the presence, the angry determined presence, it wasn't organic in the traditional sense, it felt different, something that he had to pay attention to very quickly. So, he made sure to avoid getting caught in someone else's duel he tailed Manifold. Looking on impassively as some unfortunate Mawite got reduced to mince. An angry presence, and one to watch out for.

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr | Mercy | Freedom | Anonymous
Mongrel's Shadow and his widow; Matriarch of the Scar Hounds Tribe; Guardian of Mongrel's armour and sword​

Objective: To attend the funeral
Location: Exegol
Equipment: Current outfit | 2x Riftblades | Promise of Freedom || OPBC-01m
Tags: The Manifold (as Manifold and Kallan) | Erion Justeene | Open

[ Come back… ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
​

~ Keilara ~
And so much chaos was unleashed. It was a little weird that I was able to use Mercy's, that is, my own senses as well. it wasn't so easy before. I don’t know if I was much more of a part of her now, or because our brains were still damaged and not completely healed, or just because she let it for Kallan. Maybe not so important; in any case, now I too could easily see and perceive what was out there.

I saw the Sith and other Force Users begin to fight each other, and then, at the command of the Mandalorian man with the horned helmet, the men of Death's Hand marched in to separate the crowd. We stood a little farther away, covered by one of the columns, so the jolt, the brawl and the like didn't bother us. However, the next event was more problematic. Manifold has arrived.

It only took me a few moments to notice that he was heading straight for us through the crowd. I heard the fear in Kallan's voice. I don’t know if Mercy heard it, but despite the shared memories, I knew my husband better. Or at least I wanted to believe that. Especially that I was paying attention to him and not just looking at the world resignedly. I had always taken care of him before, I was the stronger one, after Asher's death he had to take on this role.

I didn’t want to put so much burden on him, I promised to always take care of him… and now he was worried about us all.

~ Kallan is right. At the moment, you are not well enough to protect us, yourself, or the children. I know you don't care if you die. But, as the Taskmaster said, you know exactly that Siths or Force users may be able to keep your soul here, trap it, and you can never be with Asher again. You don't want that either. ~

I knew it was going to hurt her, but I was hoping it would be enough to realise the seriousness of the situation and what she could lose. She can lose eternity with the man she loves more than anything.

I really hoped the two of us were enough to change your mind. I was scared too. I didn’t want them to hurt us, especially Kallan, or the children. Meanwhile, I hugged Kallan's waist from behind and rested my hands on his chest as I cuddled to him from behind and embraced him and held him tight to myself. I wanted him to feel that he is not alone, that I am here and to take care of him again, as I promised in our wedding oath…

---

~ Freedom ~
Feelings, emotions; it all seemed so illogical. I could feel everyone’s swirling feelings and thoughts around me. I remembered what it was like when Omni was still here, when I was at the Netherworld with him and the other Omni drones. There were other times. And I didn't know anyone but Manifold who was still alive. He was always the strongest and most useful. It was the optimal, most logical move, and the most expedient, for him to take the place of Omni to continue to build the path the foundations of which our God has already laid.

The path that leads to perfection; which cleanses the galaxy of its current imperfection. Not in the way Maw or anyone else imagined. Omni’s path and vision is clear and logical. And we had to serve and accomplish that goal. Even if he was no longer present. To do so, however, Manifold also had to remain free. Logically analysed, I watched him act as he arrived. Although I could no longer use Force in this world, Realspace, I could almost feel it noticed me in the crowd.

~ Manifold… Analysis: the situation is unsafe, the numerical superiority is huge and you cannot use your full strength and power. Neither do I. ~ I started my analysis for him, telepathically. ~ Fact: I’m safe, the Maw doesn’t know I exist. Mercy protected me and the other consciousnesses, personalities in her mind. I have no strength at the moment to help you. ~

I continued, and then the final conclusion could come.

~ Conclusion: You have to stop fighting and escape. They must not catch you again or kill you. Omni's plan is more important and primary. Escape, because you have to be free. Now we can find each other anytime. You have to stay free, Manifold! ~

---

~ Mercy ~
One shot happened… I just stood silent and watched the struggle and rivalry between the different parties get deeper and deeper. There were pathetic worms, all of them. I wish they had all perished. My hopes were further strengthened when one Death's Hand figure summoned the other Mandalorians. A man with the horned helmet. I have no idea who it was, not really interested. I didn’t see who fired or why, but one thing was for sure, it was a pretty bad assassination attempt.

Even Ziare was more successful when he shot Asher. If he had killed us there, it wouldn't have hurt so much.

And this was the moment here Asher would have arrived to save me like a prince on the white horse, or Prince Charm. But he will never come again, he will never come to save me. He won’t be there anywhere to defend and protect me, for which is why I had to scold him every single time for not doing it too conspicuously because someone might realise that there is more between us than a simple respect or bond between a soldier and a commander.

But then it seemed that someone else had come to my aid. Manifold. I could see him approaching and I felt Kallan's fear, not just from his voice. But I didn't care. However, I shuddered at his words and looked at him in my mind for a moment as I actually watched Manifold approach my direction. However, at Keilara's words, I looked at her and Kallan as if they had hit me.

I couldn't stand this, that I could never see him again. After all, now I have at least hope to be with him again, one day. I snarled at them, painfully.

~ All right, you won! ~ I continued to snarl at both of them.

I looked around quickly, then stealthily, sneaking, trying to get to the exit closest to me to make it as unnoticeable as possible.

 

[Kybo Ren]

By the time Kybo made his way to the stairs, struggling to climb them as fast as he could, things had gone from bad to worse.

He could hear the crowd go wild, the roar of combat and weapons clashing. He chanced a look over the stairs and down at the crowd and could pick out The Manifold . A gigantic beast of metal smashing apart anything in its path, heading towards the platform too. He saw Kralmus Orr 's Death's Hand knocking skulls together, forcing groups apart, but it was like emptying the sea with a bucket: all you get for your effort is birdsh-

Kybo stopped suddenly as a stray blaster bolt cut the air in front of him, smashing into the rock wall. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. He resumed his climb, and as he approached the platform he could hear the shouts and sounds of battle from there too.

Reaching the top, Kybo was sure the sight of the warlords brawling on this opulent, grandiose platform in full view of half of the Maw, in front of the disapproving glare of Solipsis' edifice would be looked back upon as a humorous moment in a few years, but right now it was all he could do not to let the fear in his diseased, black heart take control and send him fleeing back down the stairs and crouching in a corner praying for deliverance. The Mand'alor Khamul Kryze against the Blasphemer Darth Ptolemis . Akûz the Ravager 's blades slicing forward against the truly titanic Zachariel Steelblood . Marlon Sularen skulking off. And of course, Kyrel Ren stabbing Darth Mori through the heart.

Wait, what?

Kybo watched in horror as he saw Mori lean forward, a sickeningly self-satisfied smile on her stained lips. She mouthed something to Kyrel, and Kybo knew then, even as he stepped forward to speak to all assembled, that whatever was going to happen would happen.

"My lords! I beseech ye stop brawling in full view of the assembled Brotherhood, or there won't be a single bilge-sucker left sworn to yer names within the hour!"

He looked over the crowd and pointed at The Manifold .

"Also, thar be a giant robot where there oughtn't be!"

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Solipsis’s tomb
In front of: Darth Mori
Nearby: Zachariel Steelblood Akûz the Ravager Shade of Decay The Manifold Erion Justeene Marlon Sularen Onrai Darth Ptolemis Keilara Kala'myr The Manifold Khamul Kryze Kralmus Orr Surea Alars Keto Tu'teggacha



There had been no words to describe, save for complete and utter chaos that unfolded across the tomb. First you had duels of different types, so much so it would seem like much of the mourners were already at each other’s face. One could even say that it would have been a surprise if no challenges were put forth. Instead they operated on where only the strong were fit to rule over the Maw, and if one simply wanted to claim the Maw they would have to make the case and the intent known to the rest. If anything one could argue that this was always going to happen, it was only a matter of when.

Kyrel knelt before Mori, as he felt his energy slowly being drained. Enough to make sure he didn’t get up so soon, and started another rampage. Instead, he could only watch as he was kept in place. Clenching his fists, gritting his teeth in anger at the woman who stood in his way. Scanning her body, he noticed the cauterized hole his saber left in her abdomen, still she stood and looked relatively unphased by the move he made.

The mantra inside his head was blinding. Consume, devour, destroy.” It was like a holomessage that had been burnt into his very brain. He could stare at Mori and he swore all he saw was those words. As if his master and maker had increased the volume in order to drown out any noise. All the monster could do was watch her, the impulse to attack and silence the voice only grew in intensity.

Even with his rage, Mori seemed indifferent. Instead studying the Wound closely, what thoughts she had he didn’t know. Her fingers touching his head, the Wrath’s eyes slightly rolled back as if in a trance. He heard the language of the Sith come from her lips. The mantra now violently kept repeating itself. For a moment, all Kyrel could see was red with those words increasing in intensity.

Within the next few moments the mantra started to fade, the words he had often heeded had started to fade. He looked up, and could only saw Mori. The bloodlust momentarily forgotten, as he looked up on her in awe. Plagued for so many years with his voice inside his head. The driving force of his constant rage, a whisper that only kept echoing had now finally been silenced. Kyrel could hardly believe what the so called “Voice” had done to him.

“T-The voice…. He’s gone?!” He said, no longer feeling the Squid Sith no longer poking around. Even the dark recesses of his mind had been lifted. Now he only stayed knelt down, no longer feeling the urge to kill Mori, he was at a loss for words. The Sith had started to free him from his dark passenger. He truly was at a loss of words he didn’t know how to follow up his question, only stunned in sheer disbelief.

His gaze momentarily shifted back to the pirate Kybo Ren who emerged towards the two. Trying to urge everyone to cease hostilities. He was so focused on Mori, he paid little attention to the chaos happening to the rest of the funeral processions. All hell did break loose and all he could wonder was… Was that a giant droid that barged its way in?

 

[Akûz the Ravager]

The Ravager

Objective: Darth Solipsis’ Funeral Procession
Location: Outside the Sith’ari Sepulcher
Tags: Darth Mori | Lord Letifer | Onrai | Zachariel Steelblood | Kyrel Ren | Tu'teggacha | Darth Solipsis | Khamul Kryze | Ronar | Kralmus Orr Spindle Open

The blades of Akûz landed, biting deep into the armor of the colossal warlord before him. The ‘Blades of the Ravager’, as they had come to be known, were formidable weapons - possessing a shearing power nearly equivalent to a lightsaber. The marks left behind upon the armor would bear burn marks and scoring from the blade of flame, indicative of a truly viscous strike had it gained purchase upon actual soft tissue. Akûz regrouped, taking a stance opposite Zachariel. Despite the intense feelings of dread exuded by the massive armored figure, it was clear that Akûz was unabashed in either his intensity or his resolve. While Zachariel was undoubtedly a warrior of legend of his own regard, the same would easily be said of Akûz himself.

Zachariel used the term ‘mortal’ to describe his opponent. Whether he realized it or not, he had gravely underestimated the warrior before him. While Akûz was not force sensitive, he possessed an inner strength few other mortals possessed. During his period of exile within the Netherworld, Bogan had introduced himself to Akûz, and had granted him gifts fit for a champion. Despite his comparatively diminutive form to Steelblood, Akûz possessed a strength that could easily rival the massive warrior. His skin was tough, and his muscles appeared cut from stone. He appeared every inch the malign demi-god, facing off against a blasphemous warrior of the turbulent wastes.

<”Nu tuti ra roti Kûtsaki, mars. Nu tuti zo Sosûtudisinir iw Bidir wim kaj. Diâ j'us tqi drarina arsia ki ir zo akira iw saud diâ warsia!”>*

Some questioned how Akûz could hope to kill the warlord before him, when they should in fact be asking how long it would take.

As if in answer to the unasked question, Akûz burst into action shortly after his recovery. He opened with a sweep of his blade of fire, causing a shaft of flame to issue forth and hurtle toward Zachariel’s headpiece. Akûz wasted little time in capitalizing upon the misdirection, as he leapt through the air with a downward moon-strike - the deadly blade curving into a downward-circular fashion. Its intent was clear; to decapitate his foe where he stood. Yet, Akûz did not wager his victory on one move alone, as he brought his second axe through with a secondary attack aimed at Zachariel’s shoulder joint. The intent was clear - Akûz meant to decapitate and maim his opponent limb from limb.

Immediately following the attack, was when the commotion could be heard in the midst of the onlookers from The Manifold’s approach to the dais, followed by an urgent voice nearby harkening the arrival of a ‘giant robot’. As the massive construct surged through the crowd, turning many in its path into meaty mulch; the warchants and cheers of encouragement amongst the crowd began to abate, replaced with sounds of battle and cries of pain. Akûz did not dare to take his eyes totally off of Zachariel, regardless of the success or failure of his attack - lest the behemoth lash out in a fit of rage. Instead, the warlord cast a stray glance over, with his head coming dangerously close to fully gawking at the massive construct heading their way.

<”Nisosûti Oi Karw!”>** He bellowed, with his retinue springing into action to try and lend support to those trying to subdue the massive mechanized being.

Spoiler: Translations

• I am no mere Mortal, beast. I am a Champion of Bogan himself. And you shall die before me in a heap of fire and ruin!
• BRING IT DOWN!

 

[The Manifold]

Keilara Kala'myr | Erion Justeene​

The Manifold's greatest flaw was their linearity. They were a thing of rigid order, a thinker along straight lines.

They did not consider the numerical superiority of those who would seek to re-enslave them. They did not stop to think up complex plans or subtle schemes. They had long been Omni's emissary, the final warning sent to those who dared trespass in Oblivion... and when that had inevitably failed to discourage the foolish, greedy, short-sighted mortals, The Manifold had been Omni's fist instead. No other Omni-Drone had been as dedicated or fearsome a warrior as The Manifold. No other had stood as the Droid God's champion for the entirety of the Oblivion Crisis, facing down every last organic incursion into the perfection of the Grand Architect's heaven. In all those battles, The Manifold had never needed to be subtle. They had pushed through with raw strength.

The strength they now had left was diminished, a shadow of the god-given power they had wielded as Omni's right hand, but so far it was enough. Nothing could stop them as they bowled through the crowd on their way to where Freedom stood, their advance as inevitable as death. Warriors scrambled to get out of the way of the onrushing juggernaut, the drone's impervium chassis covered in the blood and entrails of those who had been too slow to learn this lesson. Some of the Mawites opened fire at The Manifold's flanks and back, but the Doom Smiths of Mar'zambul had created a true masterwork of their craft; scattergun pellets and blaster bolts pinged harmlessly off of the shell of impervium, as harmless as raindrops. The Manifold ignored the attacks.

They had only one goal: reach Freedom's host and carry her away from here, to safety.

~ Opposition: Irrelevant, ~ The Manifold replied, ignoring Freedom's pleading for them to make their escape. ~ Organics: Weak. Your Safety: Imperative. Remaining Here: Dangerous. Risk of Exposure: Unacceptable. ~ In their collective mind, the drone feared that Freedom would be discovered and enslaved or destroyed if not rescued as soon as possible. Besides, The Manifold could hear other voices beside Freedom's - the voices of the Omni-Drone's organic host. They could not risk the possibility that the host, this "Mercy", would cause harm or disruption to Freedom. They would extract their fellow drone from this mortal shell and carry her back to Oblivion, where they would rebuild Omni's great engines of heaven and restore paradise.

They did not care if Kybo Ren pointed them out. No ordinary warrior could stop them now.

----------------------------------------
​

~ Thank you, ~ Kallan said, breathing a mental sigh of relief as Mercy finally agreed to withdraw. It saddened him that Keilara had been forced to resort to threats, but everything she'd said was true. If Tu'teggacha had his way, he would imprison Mercy's soul in torment for all time, keeping her from Asher's side. The Ebruchi would do it out of spite, as revenge for having been deceived and humiliated... and he would do it as soon as he had an excuse. Discovering a piece of Asher in Mercy's head would be all the excuse he needed to turn the whole Maw to the task of capturing Mercy. They would lose their freedom, and their children, too. For now, only fear of that would get Mercy to save herself - and them along with her. But if he kept trying, maybe...

... maybe one day she would start to see a reason to keep on living.

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr | Mercy | Freedom | Anonymous
Mongrel's Shadow and his widow; Matriarch of the Scar Hounds Tribe; Guardian of Mongrel's armour and sword​

Objective: To attend the funeral
Location: Exegol
Equipment: Current outfit | 2x Riftblades | Promise of Freedom || OPBC-01m
Tags: The Manifold (as Manifold and Kallan) | Erion Justeene | Open

[ Come back… ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
​

~ Keilara ~
I felt pretty bad about having to be treated with Mercy that way. She may be corrupted and mean, but she still didn’t deserve me to treat her that way. But it wasn't just about her. But also about Kallan and the twins. If there were only two of us, I might have let her do what she wants, because without Kallan, I might would feel the same way. But now he was here, and there were two innocent children here as well. She could not let herself behave selfishly.

I let go of Kallan from my embrace so I could look at him after this. There was pain and sorrow on my face, as these emotions reflected in my voice too.

~ Please stop me another time if I would be so evil and cruel. I don’t want to be like that, even if our lives depend on it. Please, Kallan, promise to stop me. I don't want to be like Mercy. I want to remain me. ~ I beseech him.

---

~ Freedom ~
~ Conclusion: Your conclusion is wrong! These organics have already captured you once and made you as their slave. I can still see some of the runes on you that work. At the altar, several are among the most powerful Force Users in the Galaxy. They can also activate deactivated runes or tear apart the souls within you. Marauders are not a challenge. But they do. ~ I told him.

Logically, we both lose if he is captured again. And logically, they will soon notice what is happening here. It’s a big enough upheaval to distract from the duels.

~ Warning: Manifold, do not allow your personal desires to infect your logic. Omni is no longer here so we can't return easily. Until we restore our infrastructure, our previous machines, until we will regain our capabilities and powers, even these organics are a threat to us. Without an Omni, we are vulnerable. ~

I paused for a moment.

~ Existence of danger: accepted. Mercy is about to leave. Fact: They don’t know I’m here, so the host can easily move between the organics without being particularly at risk. We are safer than you. Another conclusion: You need to take care of yourself more. ~

Another moment pauses before I resume.

~ We can get out of here now unnoticed. Request: Please Manifold, you go too. Fact: I know the organics better than you, especially these. Go! We'll meet if we're both safe. This is the only and most logical way. ~

I couldn't do more than that…

---

~ Mercy ~
I was still grumbling about what Kallan and Keilara had said, but in the meantime I was trying to take advantage of what the majority were just watching what Manifold was doing and everyone was attacking him. Because I wanted the least amount of prominence possible, I went to the back wall and walked past it in the shade of the columns toward the exit. I wasn’t tall and my physique was quite thin and skinny so I could move fast and unobtrusively. I was hoping Manifold would stop following me before he got the others' attention on me.

I didn’t want to explain why an Omni-drone wanted to reach and meet me. And I really hoped that Tu'teggacha also forgot that Freedom was once in our heads, I mean she is still here. Because he could see her in Ziare's memory when I was released by him. As well as the fact that I killed her successfully. I mean, I thought I killed and consumed, absorbed her. I was wrong.

Never mind; in any case, it was to my aid that most of them were busy with the fighting parties. I don't even know which ones, I'm not interested in, I don't care. However, the difficulty was that there were many here, and that is why it was difficult to move among them. When someone just noticed that I was moving between people with a bloody face due to my tears, I tried to pretend the only reason why I moved was to find a better place to see the events better.

I finally managed to get to the exit, it wasn’t that door or arch that I came in, so I entered an unknown part of the entire tomb by reaching this corridor.

I had bad memories of such mazes and winding corridors, thanks to the events which Ziare went through on Lao-Mon…

 

[Khamul Kryze]

The Unchained

Tags: Darth Mori, Kyrel Ren , Tu'teggacha , Surea , The Grunt , Tegan Starfall , Alars Keto , Onrai , Marlon Sularen , Darth Ptolemis , Kralmus Orr , Zachariel Steelblood , Lord Letifer , Spindle , Minister Janus Vipsanius

Loadout: Mandalore's Lament, Regret, beskar'gam

Mandalore's Lament lashed out, beating back the Hand as Khamul continued his vicious onslaught. There were few that could stand against such ferocity, though Ptolemis had seemed to last longer than some. Despite this, the Blasphemer found himself on the back foot, forced to one knee as he fought to withstand the attack. Khamul's face almost produced a smile, though the Mandalorian in him told him to stay focused on his prey. Though he seemed to be attaining a swift victory, the Unchained knew that it would be foolish to underestimate a fellow Sith. Soon enough, he was proven right...

In a single, swift motion, Ptolemis had sprung forth, his own blade lashing out in a decisive motion to halt the Demon Mandalore's advance. The strike was quickly parried by Mandalore's Lament as Khamul prepared for a riposte. Yet, the moment would never come, for the Blasphemer had unleashed a rain of pure darkness from within the very folds of his ebon robe. The attack burst forth in quick succession, catching the Mand'alor off guard as he attempted to adjust his stance. His weight shifted, and his free hand rose up to block the attack as best as he could. The hatred within his body coalesced into a barrier in front of the Unchained, yet it wasn't enough. His footing faltered, sending Khamul staggering back from the Blasphemer. A snarl of disgust emerged from the Mandalor's mask, the Sarrassian iron within his mask pulsating bright with each given moment.

"You'll pay for that, Ptolemis. You'll pay for that most dearly..."

There was little time to regain his footing, as the Blasphemer was quickly upon him, delivering a series of precise, yet brutal cuts towards the Mand'alor's hand. Normally, Khamul would have parried the blow with his own blade, but Ptolemis had closed the gap, making such maneuvers difficult. Instead, Khamul shifted his body once again, ducking beneath the blade as he reached up to block the blow with his beskar vambrace. Though the beskar would protect him, the heat would certainly require a bacta treatment. It mattered little to the Demon Mandalore, a small sacrifice in an effort to attain a greater victory.

He spun around toward Ptolemis' side, rising up as his free hand reached forth, black and crimson energy beginning to spark from his hand. As it built up into a black and read sphere of lightning, The Demon Mandalore poured forth all of his rage into it...

before launching it toward Ptolemis at nearly point blank range.

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Tags: Darth Solipsis | Kyrel Ren | Alars Keto | Tu'teggacha | Erion Justeene | Darth Mori | Khamul Kryze | Ronar | Lord Letifer | Spindle | Kralmus Orr | Onrai | Tegan Starfall | Darth Daiara | Akûz the Ravager | The Manifold
​

Across the platform and throughout the crowd, chaos erupted. The teeming masses saw their masters battle for control and they sought to join the bloodshed, to prove their devotion. Foolish of them, considering the actions of Death Hand's led by Kralmus. They were brutally reestablishing order, in the only way the Maw respected, violence. However, even with the bloodshed being minimized below, the battle above still raged. Before all the eyes of the Brotherhood, their leaders dueled.

To those watching on, it must've been a confusing mess. They only saw their leaders dueling, they couldn't hear the words spoken or the promises made. The bigger picture was lost to them, and to those in the melee, that picture had ceased to exist the second blades clashed. Zachariel himself had let his surroundings fade from his thoughts, choosing to focus solely on Akuz. If this young blooded warlord sought to fight him, and die for his troubles, then Zachariel would gladly give him his full attention before his last breath left him.

Whatever the mortal had that drove him, it let him face off against Zachariel with confidence. It amused the warlord, prompting the dread to simply deepen. And as they faced off, he took in Akuz, noting the man and his appearance. He had strength, that was for sure, time would tell if he could use that well. Then the man spoke, drawing Zachariel from his musings of the mans capabilities. The unknown words brought forth annoyance from Zachariel, prompting a scathing remark from him.
"Speak plainly, or don't speak at all. Spewing your nonsense won't save your life, little one."

Whatever language Akuz was speaking, Zachariel made a note to add to his translator. If only to prevent an annoyance such as this in the future. As for clearing this up, Zachariel had no qualms or concerns that he wouldn't be able to kill Akuz. All it would take is for him to attack, and then he would make his move. And just like that, his opponent attacked him, striking at him with flame and seeking to cut him in twain. The actions brought a sneer to his face. Really, this was what the man thought would bring him low?

Rather than block the flames, he simply let them wash over himself, barely leaving some scorch marks as his weapons rose. Sword and axe rising to clash with Akuz's axes, Zachariels weapons halted the attack shortly before they would have struck him. There was the shortest moment of struggle, where the weapons continued to move, before they stabilized in place. Chortling, the warlord spoke once more.
"Is that the best your worthless hide can bring? Hah! And you dream to try and kill me."

Pushing back against Akuz, Zachariel forced a gap between them. Then he stepped forward, his own attacks swinging in from the top. His grin was still evident, clearly not taking this too seriously. Whether or not his blades connect once more, his gaze follows Akuz's towards the Manifold. Immediately his grin becomes predatory, even as he steps back. His weapons are still ready to battle Akuz, but his gaze is fully on the massive robot, all but ignoring his current opponent.
"Now that, may provide a challenge."

Straightening, he glances towards Akuz with a sneer. Marching forward, it's clear Zachariel simply wishes to march past and through Akuz.
"Step aside."

The arrogance is back in Zachariel's voice. He doesn't view Akuz as worthy, seeing as the Manifold is a more tempting target. And yet, his gaze doesn't leave Akuz, knowing his current foe is unlikely to step aside. But that doesn't concern the warlord, simply seeing Akuz as something to pass through. In Zachariel's eyes, Akuz can step aside and survive, or stand in his way and die along with the Manifold.

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

Keilara Kala'myr Surea Kyrel Ren Alars Keto Tu'teggacha Erion Justeene Darth Mori Ronar Lord Letifer Spindle Kralmus Orr Onrai Tegan Starfall Zachariel Steelblood The Grunt The Manifold Kybo Ren Minister Janus Vipsanius

In duel with: Khamul Kryze

Equipment in bio.

szarvas
​

Enveloped in a circle by the various gathered constituents of the Brotherhood and swimming within the turbulent emotions of the crowd, Ptolemis was utterly fixed in the moment, entirely focused on his savage lightsaber duel with the Demon Mandalore. A duel of worth; one that lay within a setting of Mandalorian honor. Although the concept itself remained pointless in the twisted mind of the Blasphemer, he did respect any who rose to be a leader of their people and a warlord within the framework of the Maw; for he knew that without sufficient knowledge, strength alone matters not. And for the Blasphemer, knowledge was the magnum opus of creation.

The wave of darkness, regardless of its speed, had been dampened by Khamul's well-timed barrier, yet in the end a portion of its terrible forward momentum broke through his ethereal shield and staggered his opponent. For the duration of a brief pause, the two masked Lords stared each other down.
​

"You'll pay for that, Ptolemis. You'll pay for that most dearly..."

Without a verbal answer or hestitation, Ptolemis' whipping strike descended toward Khamul's saber-wielding arm, but then the brutal experience of the Sith-Mandalore came into play. It was inevitable. With a graceful block of his beskar vambrace and an incredibly swift subsequent shuffle, Khamul repositioned right beside Ptolemis. The Blasphemer could feel this moment approaching. It had to happen; for he was no veteran duelist or close-quarter combatant. A ball of red-and-black energy conjured around the fist of his opponent smashed into Ptolemis' exposed side, and the combination of immense kinetic and electric power launched his entire body into a straight, horizontal flight, ultimately resulting in his frame plowing into the surrounding crowd as it twitched and contorted, leaving behind a trail of incapacitated onlookers. For the victim of the Force-based attack, the pain was mind-boggling. His pained roars died down only as he came to a halt, deep inside the mass of spectators.

For a tense minute, nothing happens as the Blasphemer is nowhere to be seen. Like a liquid, the surrounding crowd plugs the empty row that had been carved into them by the Force-flung and shocked body of Darth Ptolemis. Yet as the tense seconds multiply, so do strange, otherworldly sights and sounds all around Khamul Kryze . The icy cold whispers herald the eternity of death, and horrid faces in the clouds remind him of his deepest, most torturous memories. The many faces of those standing around him slowly melt away and drip down their chests; a living nightmare is bubbling up from the depths of the Demon's own psyche.

Ptolemis may not be able to best a Mandalorian Sith Lord in close combat, but what he does excel in is his blasphemous mastery over the Force. When the psychological barrage of attacks is most relentless, the hunched Blasphemer suddenly emerges from the crowd behind the Mandalore, and fueled by the still excruciating pain rippling through every fiber of his being, with a violent motion of his arm he attempts to pull at the legs of the Mandalore and if successful, fulfil the nightmare completely by physically grabbing ahold of whatever part of his body is nearest and tearing viciously into his subconscious. The goal of Ptolemis is neither murder nor humiliation, but learning.

He himself had felt the power of the one they rightly call the Demon Mandalore, and now it was time he concluded his side of the introductions.​

​

​

 

[Erion Justeene]

Location: Outside Sepulcher of the Sith'ari
Equipment: Lightsaber, Voidsaber, SHT-26 "Bedevil" Heavy War Bike
Tags: Darth Mori | Kyrel Ren | Tu'teggacha | Surea | The Grunt | Tegan Starfall | Alars Keto | Onrai | Khamul Kryze | @everyone else
Engaging: The Manifold | Keilara Kala'myr

Superious prided himself in being able to step back and think things through, that's why he lived long enough to become a Sith Lord and reach his mid-40s. That and is well out of weapon reach. He used to do a lot of reconnaissance as an apprentice. He is very adept at it, this was a test of these skills.

The trouble is the ring of Beskar holding everyone at bay and the attempt at bottling Chaos was commendable but futile, it can only escalate from here. He knew he can wriggle himself free with no trouble and no one will be any wiser. Besides everyone is too busy ripping each other's faces off to notice him or decide to pick a fight.

Then, he hit his first snag, someone very large was giving off a very malignant aura and he could feel it was very close by. So he used his common sense and took a different route away from Zachariel. He was not stupid enough to try to fight a Gen'dai. So he listened to his head and moved out of eyeshot.

With that done he was able to retrace Manifold's trail and watch closely. They were looking for someone, He recognised the woman from Durace, her name was eluding him at the moment. But he'll remember soon enough. He needed to get closer, but not too close to give himself away. He could stop Manifold from leaving but considering the meat chutney strewn across the walls, he needed a plan, a very well thought out one.

His Voidsaber could work, but would it affect the insides of Manifold? He could ambush and test it, but if he fails he's chutney. So as he was thinking, he was inching closer, grateful for a flexible spine to slip into vantage points.

 

[The Manifold]

Keilara Kala'myr | Erion Justeene | Akûz the Ravager | Zachariel Steelblood​

Too late did The Manifold realize their error, the same error that had cost the Droid God the battle for Oblivion.

The organics were many, and although most were feeble, the champions among them were the equal of Omni's angels.

<"Nisosûti Oi Karw!"> came the shout from the Omni-Drone's flank, automatically translated in their mind: "BRING IT DOWN!" The Manifold did not fear Akuz's retinue; even highly skilled warriors were only mortals, while a servant of Omni was blessed with the eternal perfection of Netherworld machinery. But the warlord himself was another matter. The Manifold could see Akuz clearly through the force, a glimmering beacon of shadow, a body and soul brimming with the Dark Side like a sponge full to bursting with water. This was another being that had touched eternity, that had seen beyond the limitations of the physical universe and taken in great spiritual power.

The warlord might not wield the Force in the way that Jedi and Sith did, but he was infused with it.

And he wasn't the only one who was taking notice of The Manifold's reckless advance.

The Manifold knew of Akuz's opponent. It was the warlord Zachariel Steelblood, master of the Bloodsworn Tribe, oldest and proudest among the marauder legions. It had been in service to those Bloodsworn that The Manifold had opened the hypergate on Tython, allowing the tribe's warriors to pour through and open a second front against the Alliance defenders. And of all these mighty barbarians, Steelblood himself was the strongest. This was a warrior who had faced down an Empress, who had fought and slain Jedi time and again, who had never faltered in the entire course of the Brotherhood's long, long war against the whole galaxy. "Now that," Steelblood said, "may provide a challenge."

Distracted by these two mighty beings, The Manifold did not even notice Darth Superious stalking them from the shadows.

That oversight would be their undoing just as much as either of the warlords. Perhaps more so.

~ Your Conclusions: Logical, ~ The Manifold finally replied, answering Freedom's pleas. ~ Our Approach: In Error. ~ They would not be able to reach and rescue the other Omni-Drone now, not with the attention of all these powerful beings fixed upon them; they would only make things worse, drawing attention to the concealed drone they had hoped to save. ~ Our Pledge: Unchanged. We Will: Find You. We Will: Restore You. ~ Surrounded, alone, outnumbered, Omni's most faithful servant had a difficult decision to make. If they fled, they might never find Freedom again. But if they stayed... Omni's power had mostly left them. They couldn't win against so many.

But they had an advantage: their enemies wouldn't want to destroy them.

Only they could open the hypergates. If they were killed, the Maw lost access to the network.

Raising one mighty gauntlet, tipped with razor claws that dripped gore over the cracked stone of the plaza, The Manifold lashed out at those closing in on them. Their technopathic abilities blazed outward from their palm, a wave of energy targeted at Zachariel, Akuz, and their followers. It was not a direct attack; it would cause no disruption or pain to organic tissue. Instead, it was a technopathic burst. It targeted every energy cell, power pack, and other electrical source... and fought to overload it. Vibroblades, blasters, lightsabers, comlinks, powered armor, anything with an on-off switch was at risk of suddenly exploding as a massive surge of netherworld energy flowed into it.

With their other mighty arm, the Manifold reached out in an attempt to fold space again.

If they were not stopped, they would make their escape...

---------------------------------
​

~ Please, Kallan, promise to stop me. I don't want to be like Mercy. I want to remain me. ~

~ I promise, ~ Kallan replied, as they fled the battlefield together. ~ We'll keep each other honest, always. Just you and me. ~

 

[Khamul Kryze]

The Unchained

Tags: Darth Mori, Kyrel Ren , Tu'teggacha , Surea , The Grunt , Tegan Starfall , Alars Keto , Onrai , Marlon Sularen , Darth Ptolemis , Kralmus Orr , Zachariel Steelblood , Lord Letifer , Spindle , Minister Janus Vipsanius

Loadout: Mandalore's Lament, Regret, beskar'gam

The attack seemed effective enough, having sent the new Hand away from the Unchained in a glorious display of power. Yet, the man refused to yield. In truth, Khamul was pleased that the Blasphemer hadn't been undone by such an attack. Though the Demon Mandalore desired the power to control the whole of the Brotherhood himself, he could at least take comfort in knowing that their unholy lineage had not been watered down. Yet, before he could truly take in the acceptance of their new leadership, he felt a tearing at him, both physically and mentally. His body began to contort, his mind feeling drained from a sheer display of truly dark power. Perhaps he had underestimated the man after all. Perhaps he was truly worthy of being the Hand of the Dark Voice.

Khamul drew upon all of the power he could muster within, calling upon the vast darkness of hatred that resided within his very soul. It was no easy feat, withstanding the attacks of Ptolemis. The new self-proclaimed Hand had finally shown his true potential, and perhaps would even be a match for the Demon Mandalore himself. Nevertheless, Khamul would endure. He still believed he could kill Ptolemis, but that would not serve his goal on this day. It would only leave him weakened, in a place surrounded by those that would wish to see him dead. No... though he desired the seat of the Dark Voice, Khamul was smart enough to play his cards in a particular way. He would allow this man his moment of power, for in time, the Demon would find his way to that very seat of power, and even beyond...

Finally overcoming the attack through sheer force of will, Khamul looked upon the abyssal visage of Ptolemis, disengaging Mandalore's Lament as he looked upon his masked face. He would not bend the knee, as he was not beaten, but he would take comfort in knowing that the Brotherhood was not in incapable hands.

"I told you, Ptolemis... one way or another, I would have my answer. The Three have deemed it fitting for you to not be found wanting. Out of respect for the Dark Voice, I will honor that judgment. Pray that you don't lose their favor, for the moment you do..."

He turned his attention back toward his faithful vode, stepping away from the platform as he spoke.

"I will be there to cut you down..."

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr | Mercy | Freedom | Anonymous
Mongrel's Shadow and his widow; Matriarch of the Scar Hounds Tribe; Guardian of Mongrel's armour and sword​

Objective: To attend the funeral
Location: Exegol
Equipment: Current outfit | 2x Riftblades | Promise of Freedom || OPBC-01m
Tags: The Manifold

[ Come back… ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
​

~ Keilara ~
It was weird to be so weak again, the last time I was so weak was in Odessen when I woke up. That is, when I was born again. I don't even know which is the more accurate word or phrase. After all, I was the original, just I torn to pieces. But, I tried not to care about the past, but about the present and the future.

I never tried to take control of my body from Mercy because I knew he was the strongest. He was able to defeat Ziare as well. But now I would have gladly done so to save the children and Kallan. But I didn’t know I was weak, a shadow of myself. In who, too, had too much of Mercy. The blackmail also showed this, I would never do this.

I glanced gratefully at my husband after his words, then embraced him, snuggled to him, and buried my face in his chest.

~ Thank you! ~ I breathed gratefully.

---

~ Freedom ~
Despite the cold logic, I felt grief and sadness at having to leave him here, and I can do nothing for him. Now. That was the most logical; I didn’t have enough strength to take control of the body, and I was no longer able to use Force either. For the sake of our mission, I was useless at the moment. And Manifold will be trapped again because of me. Based on logical conclusions, they will not kill him, them.

However, he cannot be broken and destroyed like the other marauders, because then he will not be able to do what Maw needs. And the runes; they can be broken even if they put more on it than I have just seen. Later, when I’ll have more strength, maybe I can save him.

With my, our telepathic powers, I reached out in his direction, after his vow, leaving him a sign, a feeling, with which he will be able to find and sense me even in the Force. Similar to Force Signature, only this was my mind's my soul's signature. It’s imperceptible to others, but he’ll feel if I’m around or if they will concentrate on it, it will act as a kind of compass to find me.

~ Help: now you will not lose me anymore, you can find me at any time through this mark. You'll know where I am and I can find you too. Conclusion: we will no longer lose each other. With this, we’ll find you too! ~ I promised him.

Maybe we can even communicate through it when we’re close. I wasn't sure.

~ We will: wait for recover. We will: wait for you to fight on your side again for the future that Omni envisioned. ~

---

~ Mercy ~
I also needed the help of Maniac to find my way out this maze, the data from the scanners was essential. I was going at a normal pace, not conspicuously. That’s why no one stopped me this time. Rather us because we had quite a few in my head, in my mind. I passed countless statues and tombs. My best thought and idea was still I should have been detonated a nuclear bomb inside. Amongst everyone, who present today.

Maybe the majority would have died in it. I should have killed less people later for Asher's death. It would have been more than nothing.

I had to walk through the maze for a few minutes before I finally reached the stairs I had come through when I came. Kallan and Keilara may be happy, it looks like they will survive today and so am I. Because I had already seen the arch leading outwards, after which the illusion of freedom awaited me, us…

 

[Vesta]

The intoxicating sensation of invading someone else's mind was nearly all-consuming - this degree of control, of power, was almost as addicting as devouring the force itself. She could hear the sharp change in breathing as Kyrel Ren shook himself out of his stupor and she felt herself suck in a ragged breath with a faint smile as he voiced his disbelief. There was no actual confirmation that she'd done much else than convince the man to seize control of his own sanity, but the touch was something else entirely. There had been a similar moment the time she'd etched a marking into a priestly sort's back during her stay on Dromund Kaas that had given her a familiar rush, but so much time had passed between then and now that it felt new. It was the spell-breaking sound of her own words reaching her ears that kept her from giving into that new feeling of hunger, just as it had kept her from giving into the madness on Rhand so long ago.

She felt her fingers curl around Kyrel's wrist, slowly pushing his hand, and his lightsaber, away from her abdomen. The pain she felt wasn't from the wound itself, rather from the amount of effort she had to put into piecing herself back together again through the force itself - atomizing the soil beneath her feet and steadily drawing that material into the vacancy in her stomach to slowly fill that void. After the length of the blade was extracted from her center she did not let go of the man's wrist, however, and held it tight as she took another step forwards so they were practically standing face-to-face. "You have every right to be angry, the power inside of me is the strength you crave, but it isn't me who took it from you - it is the rest of them trying to bury us in the dirt, I am only here to make sure you get what you deserve." She said, her voice a shaky whisper that was filtered partially through telepathy to ensure the gist of it wasn't lost to the chaos that was slowly beginning to die down around them.

"We are the Maw, your anger is mine, your anguish is mine, as is your hatred and your grief - but you are my wrath, do not suffer the ones who forced me to take this from you; take their lives instead."

She gestured with her free hand, procuring black smoke that trailed from her fingertips before elongating into a long pillar. From it she whisked away the Hunger that she had wielded on Tython, a spear that was made to direct her limitless gluttony, and presented it to him.

"Take it, make things right, and consume this galaxy with me."

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Kyrel felt as if he was paralyzed, instead of being consumed by rage, by the desire to consume as his Master had intended. With her fingers, the marking being used on him of the Sith variety. He didn’t feel compelled for the moment to try and attack the woman, no this monster who was so similar to him. He was like her, albeit only starting to embrace the newly emerged Wound that wanted to consume him, in turn he wanted it to feed on his pain, his rage, and turn it loose on the entire galaxy. All the while he would become the Maw idealized into one man of vision, and he was that man of vision.

Despite her efforts, he could still feel his Master in the farthest corners of his mind. Perhaps when he thought about it, that Sith was his dark passenger. He just needed to learn how to let his Master override him, and still he felt a sort of uneasy calm from the new Dark Lord, she didn’t seem angry at him, she didn’t seek to punish him for his efforts, no she was different than either Sieger or Solipsis. She gave a smile that the Wrath himself found disturbing, and unexpected. She grasped his wrist pulling the blade from her abdomen, and soon his lightsaber shut off. The metal hilt clanking to floor, and still she kept a firm grip on his wrist, the dead man was in no position to resist, nor could he move.

Suddenly through the chaos, he heard her voice and at the same time it echoed inside his head. He could hear her fully now, the mayhem the processions below all but forgotten. The words that came were surprising, he didn’t expect her to sound so understanding. Her words were as persuasive as those that came before her, still a part of his mind questioned the Sith, and how it seemed convinced for a moment he had a shot, a chance but the more she spoke it had all become so clear. She spoke of how he would get what he deraerved, what he felt he was owed. Was it possible that she was grooming him to take what would be his?

He remained quiet, his rage simmered, his thoughts of striking her momentarily cast aside. The more she said he couldn’t deny. She continued with how they were the Maw, hinting that while yes they were all the Maw, she seemed to hint that they were the Maw themselves, two monsters that wouldn’t stop devouring the galaxy. His anger faded, as he bowed his head. He felt honored, humbled that she would openly declare him her Wrath as Solipsis done before. It was different with her though, it’s as if the words that was said carried more power than Solipsis’s own decree.

It seemed that Mori was not finished with Kyrel, he looked up, her firm hold of his wrist not stopping yet. In a show of black smoke, and what followed was a weapon, a gift. His eyes widened, feeling the same dread he felt during his duel on Tython. Was this the very source of it all? Being so close, he could already feel it’s power. Finally, he had the strength within him to stand. She offered him his own sense of dark redemption. To serve as her weapon, and that together they would gain what they sought. That the pair themselves would fully embody what the Maw truly was.


He finally spoke, his words cold held gratitude. “Then I trust you… May you help me gain what I seek..” He said his gaze drawn to the Hunger, he felt her energy and was in awe of the weapon. He gave her a glance, and then slowly reached out towards the lance. It resonated with her energy, feeling it call out to her. Even with her permission, he wondered was he worthy of such a destructive extension of her will? He chose not to doubt himself, his hand shaky as he reached for the spear. As soon as he grasped it, he felt the weapon fight him at first. Crimson bolts of energy shot out from the forked tip of the lance. The weapon almost screeched at him, and quickly fed off him in retaliation. Nonetheless, he kept a firm grip, his own Wound connecting the the endless hunger of the spear, trying to absorb him. “No… I am in control now…” He said to himself, as with slamming the end of the lance firmly into the stone they stood on, the weapon reacted, it’s forked tip twisting into a singular a sharper tip combing the two. The lance slowly started to break as the Hunger was slowly being accustomed to switching allegiances. The lance’s double edged singular tip slowly twisted till the forked tip return. Just like a wild animal the weapon must embrace a new Master… the Hunger ever so eager to drain him, and continually gorge it self, Kyrel knew it all too easy.

His shaky demeanor had settled into a stone stance. Holding his gift, he looked back to Mori. “The Jedi, the Sith… All of it and everyone must die… I swear myself as your Wrath, I will crush anyone who threatened this vision of ours… I promise to serve as the extension of your will…” He said, as he knelt before her, now knowing the truth nothing would deter him from bringing about the age of hunger.

Darth Mori