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In spite of the looming presence of the crimson eye and the gruesome, battered form of her chassis, Alessandra smiled. In spite of everything, it seemed that there was hope yet.
<<Ameliora is a beautiful name for you, sister.>> The Chaplain replied, her features serene, yet rosy with optimism. However, with Ameliora’s next sequence of questions, she realized that there was much work to be done and precious little time to complete it. Not to mention, she came to the sudden realization that Ameliora was not a sister, but rather, a daughter, which by itself carried certain implications.
Alessandra had sought to “save” the Terminatrix, but in doing so, it seemed that she had contributed to the genesis of a new sapient entity. If Ameliora was a new personality, then what of the one that was in control and was watching them at this very moment? Could she be saved, too? Or would she have to be destroy-
Never. Alessandra cut the thought before it could be resolved. Now was not the time to think of such a dire course of action. Besides, all she needed now was for Ameliora to somehow seize control of her chassis and possibly, force the old personality into dormancy, until such a time arrived that she too, could be saved, perhaps with Akemi Io
there to assist.
<<In realspace, we are on Tython, in the ruins of the ancient Jedi Temple. Pertaining to this realm, we are currently in a shared digital space.>> She continued. <<That said, your first question is for you alone to decide, Ameliora. However, I want to ask you something.>> Alessandra paused.
<<I called you a sister previously, but…I believe that was done so in error.>> The Chaplain began. <<How would you like to be my daughter, instead?>> With that, Alessandra transmitted data packets to clarify the difference between the two terms, sensing that this being was still quite naive when it came to many basic facets of life.
Alessandra was an HRD programmed to serve a warrior house, militarized to such an extent that only soldiers could be citizens and becoming a citizen demanded that one pass a brutal trial by combat, which for many, especially unaugmented organics, was nearly impossible to pass. Their tenets endorsed the concept of total war as a way of life, which Alessandra preached at virtually every sermon to her congregation.
As such, it went without saying that Alessandra knew the answer to Ameliora’s question, but how would it affect the developing mind of the newly-formed sapient being sitting across from her?
In spite of her reservations, Alessandra decided against lying.
<<I am a Chaplain Nuetralizer, programmed by House Io as a priestess, a spiritual advisor, a psychologist, a therapist, and, an anti-Force Adept Assassin.>> She began, sending over a data packet that described what she was and the nature of her family, though only doing so after the eye had disappeared. In doing so, Alessandra realized that not once had she ever deviated from that programming.
<<I can not speak for your construction, but…I believe that your chassis is built for violence and yet…it is capable of much more, including dancing, if you so wish it.>> The Chaplain continued. <<In the event that I am no longer functioning, then my sister will teach my niece to dance.>> She added.
<<Or perhaps, you can teach her, as well.>> She finished with a soft smile.
<<We have both been programmed to kill, daughter, but we are also programmed as warriors.>> The Chaplain answered. <<In your case, the concept of help will not include killing. I seek only to help us both escape from Tython, before…>> Alessandra briefly glanced at one of the screens outside, as a sinkhole opened up close to the two HRDs, albeit in slow motion. She did not want to scare her daughter, but the Chaplain knew that she needed to convey the urgency of the situation, even at great risk. And so, Alessandra sent Ameliora a data packet, depicting the gargantuan hulk of the Avatar of War firing its superlaser at Tython, which then zoomed in to the planet’s surface to show the two dueling HRDs, fighting each other one moment, then reduced to stellar dust the next.
The girl outstretched her hand towards the eldritch Sith. This was to him completely foreign, proof again that she was not a Jedi. But, that did not mean she was less foolish.
Vinaze obliged and from the darkness a stygian tentacle slithered, curling gently around Eina's wrist and then her forearm. It did not feel as one would expect, for it was simply an extension of Vinaze's energy rather than a material limb.
"You speak with some wisdom I would not have expected, girl. Though, you and I do not have the same view of things such as 'life'. My life is over, traded for the afterlife. Death, and Rebirth, as many lords I have served before have said. That is what I want. An end to this decadent and complacent galaxy. The people are content with waging endless wars, and grow fat upon the spoils. Surely you can see this too. This war that we have brought to Tython is the war to end all wars. You are in part correct. My rebirth, and the galaxies rebirth, cannot come until we all give up mortality. You see, however, the masses are not so willing to die for kingdom come."
[ Race to the Sea ] <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
She prepares to leave and tells Gei her worries.
~ Sanctuary, Netherworld, not too much before the Maw's attack ~
Eina and Geiseric did not go ahead with the others to Tython; for them it was a few minutes through the Netherworld. The last few days have been spent at the Sanctuary. But the days together before the war soon came to an end and now they had to go. Eina had been restless for days. She wasn't nervous or tense, but she felt in the Force that something was approaching, something bad. There was a disturbance in the Force, and she was blind this time.
She had always been receptive to this, and she knew she would always feel this before all of the major wars. Death always attracted her due to her species. But today, she felt the cruel longing and hunger of beings who are hungry for souls, and she felt the Bogan more than ever. Even now, it was like feelings like Csilla happened, or just before the great Korriban fight. And there at Korriban, Gei didn't come home. Everyone thought he was dead, only Eina fought for him. They were just friends back then, though there were already connections between them, they were from the first moment, but they weren't too close to each other. But today?
Best friends, soul mates, lovers, husband and wife. As they were just putting on their armour to leave, Eina walked over to Gei and embraced him from behind as she cuddled up to the man. Her forearms placed on the man's belly and his upper body, then the woman's two palms stopped on the man's chest and hugged him in this way. The Valkyrja placed her chin on the man's shoulder and looked at him from the side.
["I have been feeling the joy, the hunger and excitement of Maw’s Avatars for days. It is the strongest today. It causes restlessness as if they know something in advance. But the future is now shrouded in darkness. Ashla's light can't penetrate the shadow of Maw's Avatars. I'm blind. Please take great care of yourself during the fight, you know I can't fight on your side right now, my beloved crusader!"] she whispered to him in Essonian.
She closed her eyes after her words, it was such a peaceful and intimate moment and it was such a good feeling to embrace her husband…
Location: The Sanctuary, Netherworld (Current), Akar Kesh (Soon) Equipment: In Sig Writing With: Eina L'lerim-Vandiir
/ Khamul Kryze
(Soon)
Geiseric's mind had been wrought by dark dreams for days now. The loss of Empress Teta weighed heavily on the Ashlan Crusaders. The attack had come so quickly, catching the galaxy off-guard. While there were still those in the ranks of the Crusade who distrusted the Galactic Alliance, no amount of enmity between the two governments could overshadow the need for unity against their common enemy. The Brotherhood was bolder than ever, and once again the Sith were in the Core Worlds.
His premonitions in the night, it seemed, were only getting stronger. He knew he was not the only Jedi seeing such visions in the Force. The plague that was the Bogan threatened to infect them all. In recent days Gei had helped to oversee the raising of the war machine to new heights. Lord Grayson's grand vision for the Jedi Order demanded that much of him. The impending battle would be the one that would either destroy the Jedi forever, or set them free.
Now, as the Crusade marched to Tython, Geiseric took a moment of respite. In the home of his wife, a place that had become a home to him as well, he said his goodbyes. The denizens of the Sanctuary knew they may never see him again.
The frigid air of the place, that had once scorned him, had become something calming. Together the husband and wife donned their armor in silence, for there was no need to speak. Their Dyad in the Force told them everything they needed to know of one another. As he stood from putting on his greaves, he felt the warm embrace of Eina from behind. Words in his native language soothingly parted from her lips. It honored him greatly that she had learned the Essonian tongue, for it kept him connected as well to his people.
"You are always by my side. You could journey to Firefist and never leave my heart. I beg of you, my love, do not fear. There is only courage to be had. I know you do not see yourself as a Jedi, but you have done great services to the Order. No greater service can be given than to defend Tython"
And finally came the day of reckoning. Every dark power in the galaxy worth their blackened blood descended on Tython like a hawk to its pray. The bones of many a world had already been picked clean by the vultures. This day would prove him right, truly and unequivocally after decades. Here, the birthplace of the Force, The Sith'ari would fulfill the prophecy.
Alongside the retinue of Darth Solipsis, Vinaze was but a mere warping feeling in the air. His presence in the Force utterly black, mixing with the darkening aura of the world, melding with it. He needed not to show himself to the other Sith Lords. There was no pomp and ceremony to be had today worthy of conjuring a mortal form. On this monumental day he was as one with the Force as he had ever been, ever allowed himself to be.
All of the dread lord's energies had to be directed toward Solipsis today, to ensure the ritual was a success. The Jedi had come close to thwarting them at Csilla, and Asog. Momentary setbacks, it seemed, for the Maw had reached Tython as easily as a blade reaches the heart of the inferior swordsman. The Sith were as united as ever, and the Jedi were apart, crumbling.
As the prodigal daughter attended her father, and the ritual began, an aquatic and murky eye popped through the threshold between worlds at the side of Mandalore the Unchained.
"This is the paradise of which I spoke, Khamul. Drink in its power. We are home."
The once blue skies darkened to sickly, writhing blackness, like the Bogan had consumed the heavens. Lightning of all colours erratically seizured from inked clouds striking the fertile valleys below them. Oh he had seen such beautiful storms before, but those had always been the product of men. This one rivalled them all, created by a god, created by the collective will of the Dark Side and its one true son.
[ Race to the Sea ] <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
She speaking with Gei.
~ Sanctuary, Netherworld, not too much before the Maw's attack ~ ["I'm not afraid, my beloved crusader! No one knows better than me that death is not the end, but only a new beginning. Beginning of a new life. Stars, planets, and lives have always been destroyed. In a natural way or by force. It’s all a natural part of life, even if it’s committed as horribly as the Maw."] her voice was reassuring and deeper than usual.
She really wasn't afraid, at least not of death. The Valkyrja wasn't worried about that. Eina was worried about things bigger than that. Not the deeds and acts of mortals, but the Avatars'.
["I just don’t know my own destiny, but it doesn’t bother me, even if it will be my final death. The only thing I’m worried about is... no, I’m not afraid, I’m just worried it is... I'm worrying for every soul, lest they not share in that fate like my father’s soul. I do not wish for a soul to be torn apart, never to find peace, but to be captured only in their own madness."] her voice was sad now, never telling of the fate of her father until now.
For a few more moments she enjoyed being able to cuddle and embrace the crusader.
["Many Valkyrja will be present on the planet for understandable reasons. However, I am sending out some teams to keep an eye on the Avatars as well, here in the Netherworld. I’m more worried about what’s going on here than in Realspace. There are many who fight there to protect the planet, but there are few creatures here that can defy creatures like War, Death, and Rebirth."] she explained to him, however she knows her husband knows this.
Now she let the man go so they could both finish armour dressing. Meanwhile, she telepathically told her people to go to guard the territory of the Avatars. If there is a problem there, do not intervene for now, just let her know.
["Regardless, promise me, to take care of yourself!"] she asked him in a soft voice with a warm smile.
She picked up the armour gloves as a last accessory, probably finishing it all at the same time as her husband. After that, she'll step to him, if Gei hasn't put on his helmet yet, she'll caress his cheek and kiss him softly.
["Let me know if we can leave."] she asked him, when the man is ready, she opens a rift for themselves that will get them to Tython if they go through it.
Location: The Sanctuary, Netherworld (Current), Akar Kesh (Soon) Equipment: In Sig Writing With: Eina L'lerim-Vandiir
/ Khamul Kryze
(Soon)
Death was not the end for a Jedi, but merely a new beginning in the Force. His lover's words did reassure him not to worry, and he tried to take them to heart. A lot of people would die in the coming battle, both those sensitive to the Force and those not. There was nothing either of them could do about it.
By now he was certain the Sith had engaged the Jedi. That much he could feel, echoing out from the heart of Ashla across space and time. When he closed his eyes, he only caught faint glimpses of what was to come, or perhaps they were visions of what had passed. They did not make sense to him. He would have to see the state of Tython in person. The moments until he did were counting down, hanging tensely in the air. He knew he could not stay here in Eina's embrace forever.
"I will take care of myself, and as many souls as I can save with every Sith I cut down. That much I can promise you, my dear. Even those wayward souls your Valkryja cannot catch shall be returned to the Force."
The pair tenderly enjoyed a final kiss before their time was up. Eina conjured the portal that would lead them to the field of battle. It swirled black and blue with tiny stars like a night sky, beckoning them inwards towards the fate of the Jedi...
[ Race to the Sea ] <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
Eina and Gei arrive at Tython.
Eina feels Vinaze and Khamul's presence.
["Thank you!"] she breathed.
She could still feel the joy and laughter of the Avatars. For the last time, she looked that direction from where she felt it through the Force. However, the Avatars have not acted yet. Eina did not want to provoke them by being attacked now. It was better to keep an eye on the area for now. However, after the kiss, they had to leave. The rift opened and she followed Gei back to Realspace.
She had never been to Tython before, but Eina immediately felt and saw the past and the significance of the place. The Valkyrja saw the past lives, the significance of the place, the countless events that took place here. That time, when the Je'daii order, they were fighting the Infinite Empire, the Rakatas. The all-decisive struggle of that time, war. She saw the echoes of Xesh and Shea Koda in the Force just like countless other heroes' who lived at the time. This place was stunning.
["This place… I wish you could see it the way I do, Gei! Living history!"] she told him.
For her, the world was very different, to be seen in the Force and in reality at the same time; to see souls, echoes, everything. It was much deeper than for anyone else. Many times, she wished her beloved crusader could see the world the way she did. However, after the overwhelming feelings of the past, Eina had already seen and felt the horrors of the present. And she sensed something else too.
Something, someone, that it had at least as little place here as she had.
["My Valkyrjas and I are not the only ones here from the Netherworld. I'm not talking about demons or summoned creatures. I felt this… this power on Malachor V when we were there, an eldritch creature. And I feel him too. Khamul Kryze. From that direction. They’re both there, with a lot of other people."] she pointed her hand towards the Akar Kesh temple.
Eina had a feeling that both Mandalore and the Eldritch creature already knew they had arrived. During the Force Storm and in this place with the Dyad, they glowed very brightly in the darkness...
The skies blackened over Tython, enveloping the planet within the ethereal shroud of the Dark Side. The Brotherhood had fought their way across the stars, spreading the unholy words of their dreaded Avatars as they bathed in the blood of their fallen enemies. Through it all, the weakened masses attempted to push the tide of darkness back, even having done so successfully at times, if only for a moment. Such victories only delayed the inevitable, however, for no amount of mustered forces could possibly dream of overcoming the machinations of the Maw. The Imperials... the Jedi... the Dar'manda... all of them were simply whispers in the wind, doomed to be swept away by the current of the Dark Voice and his ilk. Today would be a testament of that, and the Demon Mandalore would have a front row seat as the birthplace of the Jedi came crashing down around them.
He stood near the blackened visage of Darth Solipsis as he unleashed his will upon the planet, his masked gaze fixed upon the brilliant display of power as the torrent continued to build and cascade across the blotted skies. There was a sense of... was it admiration? Perhaps. Khamul may have only seen the Dark Voice as a stepping stone on the path to achieving his own goals, but the Unchained always respected strength, even if it came from one that he was destined to one day ascend above. Anyone that underestimated such power would surely perish in its wake, just as so many would on this very day.
As he stood there, a single aqueous, inky eye produced itself next to him, a piece of the otherworldly presence of none other than Darth Vinaze. Khamul's long time comrade mused over the current state of the Maw's attack, prompting Khamul to turn his attention toward the hovering eye.
"Indeed..."
And drink in the power he did, allowing the swirling energies flow through him freely as he bathed in their foul radiance.
"This will be the beginning, Vinaze... soon, we will all be baptized by the veil of shadow."
Within the umbra of the Dark Side, Khamul could sense the faintest trickle of light, as if a burning lantern danced in the distance, beyond the horizon of darkness. It was a familiar feeling, something he had felt once before upon a distant planet.
"I sense that I will prove my own worth before the day is out."
As The Prophet and the Saviour of the Mandalorians together looked on at the coming battle, Vinaze could not help but reflect on where they had come from. He recalled the cold sting of stygian steel bloodying his palm in the Citadel of Ziost, in a time when that world was still the heart of darkness, pledging himself to Darth Voyance. He recalled the burning streets of Bastion as the New Empire wrenched it from the dying hands of the old. He recalled Thule, Felucia... where Solipsis had cemented himself as the Dark Lord of all Sith. Finally his mind flashed to throne of the Sith, where had proclaimed the prophecy... complete.
But for everything Exegol had become to the New Sith Order, it was truly but a final refuge for a dying breed. The Jedi had taken all the worlds they held dear and holy, making them perverse with the naivete of the Light Side. That was Vinaze's true desire for Tython, to be snuffed in vengeance for Dromund Kaas, for Ziost, for Malachor. When they were done here, the false dichotomy would be destroyed, and from the ashes the Sith would rise like the pheonix, born anew to overshadow every incarnation of their order before.
While he pondered the future he felt the arrival of the Jedi, en masse. No one had doubted that their enemies would not give their all to defend the Temple of Balance. But their all would not suffice.
As the battle began to rage he felt one signature in the Force, faint in the eye of the storm but full in its Light, in its intent. He'd felt this one before. Khamul felt it too.
"I must make a call lest I miss an opportunity I have long awaited. I suggest you to follow suit."with those words Vinaze disappeared from view, melting back into the darkness that consumed the temple plateau.
He weaved his consciousness through the waves of the Force, feeling the nagging weight of the Jedi battle meditation pushing back against the darkness of the Sith'ari's ritual, until finally he reached her. The guardian angel of the Jedi Crusade, as it were.
He did not need to show himself, for just like him she was a creature of the beyond.
"Eina... L'lerim is it? Your name carries a weight that belies you, child. Long have I sense you in the corners of my mind, always the ready defender of Jedi wherever I find them. Today we will put a final end to that."
The Netherworld rift delivered them unto a sight he wished he had not seen. Geiseric had been to Tython before, but never to the Temple of Balance. Everything was wrong, a beautiful blessed world turned sick by the Bogan. By the time the couple arrived, the battle was already underway. Lightsabers crashed, blue, green and red flying indiscriminately as each combatant fought for their life. Without hesitation the paladin ignited his own golden blade and activated the shield on his left arm.
"Eina, make yourself scarce. I'm going for the center." he yelled to his wife over the storm, before breaking into a jog, amplified by the Force to take the weight from his heavy armour.
Even in the darkness he recognized the faces of a few Jedi he knew, people he would rather not see killed. But death at a time like this was inevitable, and it was clear each and every Jedi assaulting Solipsis and his minions was ready to give up their ghost in the line of duty, or else they would not have set foot in Akar Kesh.
He waded through the battle towards the center of the mount, where he could see Solipsis surrounded by his entourage. Dour masks obscured many a face, and furthermore faces were unrecognizable to him. Save for one figure who immediately caught his attention. He could not mistake the bloodplate of the slaver Mand'alor, who he had fought to a standstill at Kamar.
Geiseric stopped 20 yards from the ritual, evidently drawing the attention of a few Sith, though he could not bring himself to care. He had seen what happened at the hands of Khamul Kryze. He demanded satisfaction from this one alone, to avenge the fallen he had seen with his own eyes. Geiseric called out across the Force, channeling his energy towards his challenge knowing full well he could not use normal words over the storm.
Instead his words echoed through the Force, unspoken but clearly heard.
[ Race to the Sea ] <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
Eina tries to encourage her husband.
Eina accepts Vinaze's duel.
["You don't have to worry about me, my love. I can take care of myself."] she told him.
As always, it was a pleasant feeling that Gei was worried about her, though typically unnecessarily. Now, of course, it was necessary for her to be in a place where there was not much fighting, as she herself wanted to perform combat meditation to help Ashla's helpers. And for that, it would have really been advisable for her to avoid all the situations her husband mentioned. Eina watched the crusader move in the direction of the ritual; she was still blinded by Bogan's power, she did not see the future. In the present circumstances, countless souls can walk like the soul of her father. She hoped it wouldn't happen.
~ Don’t let your feelings lead in the fight against the Mand'alore. I know you're frustrated because you couldn’t beat him on Kamar. Fight against him with a clear mind. I will be here and support you, my beloved crusader! ~ she told him this time in telepathic way. ~ May Ashla guide and protect you! ~
Because they never left each other, they were not far apart, they were one in the Force. And Mand'alore was a worthy opponent even to the mother of the Valkyrja, even though the Eternal Empress was a very good warrior. She watched as Gei reached the part where the majority fought. She looked around. Smaller creatures, demons, did not dare to come near Eina, Ashla's light and strength was too strong in her, and the creatures of Netherworld knew her and her species.
Eina looked up at the sky, saw the members of Valkyrja. It was then that she decided to start and look for a place to join those who had felt the battle meditation. However, she could not set off because at first she only felt the power and presence of the Eldritch being. She turned in the direction where she felt the man. She really saw the other creature, looked at him. Although she had never seen it before, she knew it from his appearance.
"Darth Vinaze, right?" she asked him. "L'lerim-Vandiir. I was born half from the soul of Darth Prospero, not just the soul of the Eternal Empress. I felt you, too, many times. But your presence was not threatening and weak compared to the Avatars. So I didn't deal with you."
Eina's voice was not mocking, she did not know the mockery. She was just honest as always.
"But here in Realspace, War, Death, and Rebirth aren’t present, so I have time to deal with you. I'm not going to run away from the fight, Darth Vinaze. In what form do you want our encounter? I assume not with steel, since you are not a warrior but a sorcerer. How do you want to make the war of the mind?" she asked him.
The inky blot that was Darth Vinaze faded back into the darkness from whence it came, leaving Khamul to find his own battle to fight. Not long after his old comrade left, the ever-lingering twinkle of distant light drew closer, slowly turning into a bright flame among the swirling darkness of the Maw. The energy had become unmistakable...
"Crusader..."
Suddenly, a silent thought roared across the empyrean, as if the man were shouting from only a couple of feet away. It was a challenge from none other than that same Ashlan knight Khamul had fought upon the sands of Kamar. Their last encounter had ended in a stalemate, leaving a foul taste in the Demon Mandalore's mouth. Khamul had been robbed of his trophy... it would not happen again.
Turning his full attention to the Crusader, The Unchained calmly approached, his hand slowly reaching for Mandalore's Lament. As he drew the weapon, Khamul's gaze remained fixed on Geiseric, his mask pulsating with a red glow from the Sarrassian iron that held it together.
SNAP-HISS
Black and red plasma erupted from the handle, pulsating with the same dark energy that permeated from his mask. Khamul could feel the power rushing through him, amplified by the dark machinations of Solipsis. The thunderous cracks of the storm above rippled through every fiber of the man's being, providing him with power, the likes of which he had never felt before.
"It was foolish to come here, Jedi. Tell me, are you so eager to die?"
As he questioned the opposition, he felt the greatest shift in the Force he'd ever felt. Like a tidalwave, threatening to knock him from balance. His focus broke from the Mandalore long enough to realize what was occurring. The dark sky filled with fire that rain down upon them from the holiest moon itself. Under his breath his muttered a prayer, and turned his attention back to Khamul.
One way or another it was the beginning of the end. And Geiseric was not afraid.
The battle passed by around them as if there was nothing else between them. Geiseric's focus was entirely on the Demon Mandalore. If he could likewise hold the man's attention, then those challenging the Dark Lord himself had a better chance... to end this.
"I am eager to see this end. But I will patiently wait until you are dealt with first."
Geiseric took the anchored stance of the Stone Form. For once the Light of Ashla within him was dimmed, overshadowed by the Bogan. Were they loosing the fight? He was unsure. His fight against the Mandalore was only just beginning.
Khamul boiled with the darkness, it was clear. Just as Geiseric radiated his own energy given by the lady Ashla, illuminated further by the light of his life, Eina. On Kamar they had been the unstoppable force and the unmovable object. If either one slipped from that role it could mean death. yet, Geiseric suspect that was much more of an issue for his opponent. For all the Sith revelled in Death, they were afraid of it.
"I do not fear death, warrior of Mandalore." Geiseric's body was as rigid as a mountain, yet his mind flowed like water, ready at any second to change that. He awaited the first strike of the Darksaber.
"I cannot tell whether your insolence is merely naivete, or if the Jedi had truly stooped so low. They used to have some respect for us. But you are correct. I am no warrior, yet there are places in this reality where only a few can get, I among them."
The entity reached through the Force as he had done with a dozen Jedi before, reaching for the mind's eye of his enemy. In the deepest recesses of the cerebral plane was where Vinaze did battle, and right away he could tell this new foe would not break easy. She had suffered here before, trapped in her mind, behind eyes not her own. It had made her stronger.
Eina's vision would fade to black as Vinaze weaved and molded their battleground, a stadium in the Force's abyssal void for none but them.
"It is not the Avatars of the Maw that you need worry about in immediacy, nor is it I. But, I will stand in your way nevertheless. I welcome you, daughter of two empires, to our shared consciousness. Do you recall the last time you shared a consciousness with a monster?"
[ Race to the Sea ] <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
Eina goes into a safe place and turns into immaterial form.
Eina enters the mind palace, where they will fight.
"Insolence?" she asked back in confusion. "I never behave disrespectfully against anyone, not even my opponents. And I'm not a Jedi, I've never been and never will be. I'm a Valkyrja." she told him.
Eina saw for the first time in the Force what was happening during the ritual. She heard the cries, saw the soldiers' souls and lives intertwined with the ritual. She had never seen such atrocities before, not even at the Netherworld. She felt bad about it all. She felt the power of Solipsis and the man crushing Ashla's surface. The "fire" from the sky began to fall…
It was then that the Valkyrja felt what the man was doing. She didn't defend herself because she accepted that they would fight where the man wanted. Eina, like a Valkyrja, never broke her word. However, she knew that in a moment she would not perceive the outside world, only her mind, the inside of their mind, so she had to defend herself. She teleported to a more sheltered place and then picked up her immaterial state, which was natural and ideal for her. So no one saw her, and no one perceived her, and she was safe.
Ever since what Hyrva had done to her, she hadn’t particularly loved mental fights, but through the parasite she had learned how to resist, to defend herself. True, Gei was there with her last time. She would be alone now, but she was not in such a mental crisis now as she was then, though Heinrich Faust's distancing and coldness was painful for her. After all, she loved the man as her own brother and did not understand why he was staying away from her and Gei.
She shuddered at the question, it was something she would never, ever forget. Eina was alone then; not now. Although Gei was not here physically, nor with this mind-palace, but, his silver-gold aura surrounded Eina's golden one. Eina always saw him as silvery, a combination of gold and silver. And just as Gei's strength embraced her, so did her own embraced her husband as he fought Khamul. They were one in the Force.
~ I do, I remember, but it was a different situation. I'm not alone anymore. And you are different. I feel and see that you were once a mortal, you were not always an eldritch creature. ~ she told him. ~ Appear in front of me, Darth Vinaze, stop hiding. Do it in your true form, for I see it, honour me with it. I do the same, because I know you see me like who I really am. ~ she said and took on her original form, with the blue, slightly glowing skin, black hair, and many "golden stars" in her hair.
"All things end, Crusader... you, me, this planet... all will fade in due time. For some, the end simply comes earlier."
His full attention was on Geiseric, not even bothering with acknowledging the others that had come to put down the Dark Voice. Khamul knew that the powers of Solipsis had grown considerably, and even if these would-be champions were able to put him down, it would only be a small hindrance in the grand scheme of the forces of Darkness. Besides, if the Dark Voice died on this day, then perhaps he was not truly worthy of the title to begin with. Either way, Khamul would have his fill of blood before the day was out.
"Nor do I. A day will come when I die, and I will join the Manda alongside my ancestors. For make no mistake, Jedi..."
The Unchained's body shifted, taking a stance known to practitioners of Juyo. His blade continued to hiss in the air as Khamul held it outward, calling to him to unleash his hatred upon the worm that dared to defy him.
"I AM MAND'ALOR."
With those words, a thunderous crack echoed across the skies as the moon of Ashla cried in agony, pieces of its ancient and holy body torn asunder and launched toward the planet below. Behind his masked visage, a wicked grin produced itself on the Demon Mandalore's face.
"All you hold dear will be ripped away from you. Jedi... and in the end, you will beg me to send you to your precious goddess."
Hatred spewed from each and every word as he spoke, and in the shroud of the Dark Side, Khamul fully enveloped himself in his rage.
"Time to die..."
His jetpack roared to life, launching the Unchained toward his opponent with tremendous speed. Mandalore's Lament began lashing out at the Crusader as Khamul hacked and slashed away mercilessly, hoping to put an end to the dog before he could have the chance to bite. Through the vicious assault, the same four words kept echoing deep within Khamul's mind...
To Eina's demand, Vinaze obliged. They both shed the trappings of mortality, her the form she presented herself in, he the illusion that guarded him against being seen. In reality, outside on the field of battle he was still shrouded in the darkness. Yet here in the cerebral dreamscape he was free to show himself. From the void opened a hundred eyes of various sizes, shapes, some vaguely humanoid, others undistinguishably alien.
"Is this what you wished to see? Such base ideas of the self from a born spirit. You could be anything you wished, have anything you want. Yet you choose to be seen as Force intended. The Force is meant to serve us. Let it."
Vinaze peered deeply into the thoughts of the other spirit. It was not as easy as doing so to a mortal. Indeed she was born this way, and he had been created. The way of the Sith demanded it be so. The Sith created themselves in the image only they could dream. But the Sith Lord had learned there was more than just himself over which he had the power.
"In foolish Jedi notions of 'death', I have forfeited any claims I may have held, to Darth Solipsis. In reality I am but kingmaker. But in this otherrealm, this beyond... I am King."
The void around them began to fade, conjuring to life the image of the Sanctuary gardens where Eina and Geiseric spent much of their time. It was serene as always. It reflected the girl's very being. That was why she had been mentally imprisoned there before. Now he wondered what she made of it after all this time... all this peace in her life that deserved none.
[ Race to the Sea ] <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
Eina shows her memories to Vinaze.
Eina speaks to Vinaze.
Eina watched with interest as Vinaze took his original shape. The fact that he chose not the original humanoid but the mighty eldritch creature was very eloquent to the Valkyrja. The man no longer considered himself the mortal he once was. Now he thought of himself as this being, which in many cultures is almost a divine being. Vinaze was not the first, and probably not the last, to imagine himself as a god or such being and Eina met with them.
~ Yes, that was what I wished for and it reveals a lot about you. ~ she replied gently. ~ I am what I want to be and I am happy with my life. But that's not true for you. I have found peace and harmony, but you will never find this. I expected your original mortal form, Darth Vinaze; that you'll choose that, who you once were. You are not satisfied with yourself, you have not found what you are looking for, your soul does not rest. But you won’t find the answers you seek in the Bogan’s embrace. ~
Eina had her people there, the souls she cared for, the souls she protected, the people she healed, and of course her husband. Her life was happy and complete. She didn't want to be more than who she was. Maybe in her saddest days, she just wanted to be a mortal to grow old and die with Gei after a happy and long life. Or to be together forever in any other way; it was her biggest dream. But anyway, she was happy and happy, and she didn't want to change this life.
~ My people and I are famous for our modesty, our devotion. You already live in the Netherworld, so you know. What do you think I should be? I was born of the soul of my parents, but I am not them. I am not my father to destroy souls and one, or my mother, who also tore apart countless souls while looking for a way to save my father. My devotion is to heal and save others, to guard and protect all of the souls. And what do you want? More power? More destruction? What's the point of these? ~ she asked him.
When the man looked into her memories, she let him show him what she probably knew. The Valkyrja closed her eyes for a moment. Continuous demon attacks against the Sanctuary. The city, which is almost constantly under siege, the Valkyrja guards the city, Eina fights as a warlord, always in the front row, as a warrior, a warlord, a sorcerer. She has killed thousands and hundreds of thousands of demons over the centuries, but her soul has always remained clear and pure.
Eina opened her eyes and stepped closer, in her footsteps the garden began to change, beautiful glowing silver, gold, and blue flowers opened up on the ground, on the trees, the place came to life. Demons tried to break in, but they ran away from Eina and Gei's combined power. The stars in the sky became brighter, and the northern light seemed to be even beautiful and more vivid. The struggle, the constant war, was a part of her life, but also peace. The golden mean she found at Gei's side. Before her beloved crusader, she knew only war, and since then she learned peace, light and harmony. It was all thanks to the other half of her soul, the love of her life, Gei.
~ And what are you seeking in your life? What do you expect from it, Lord Vinaze? You have lived so much, yet you're still interested in the mortals' behaviours. Kingmaker, King… these belong to the mortals. It's time to decide if you want to cling to your mortal self or you're ready to leave that life behind forever. ~ now she reached out toward the man's mind as she held out her hand to him, peacefully, without any aggression.
It took all of the crusader's will to remain in place. Darth Solipsis had committed the highest sacrilege. Even Lord Hoth and the Army of Light had not faced such heathens, such depraved Sith. Those were simpler times. Now the eternal conflict had truly boiled over. Though it was a superweapon that destroyed Csilla, Geiseric wondered if The Dark Lord had eclipsed even that. It was the power of one man that threatened now to tear Tython apart.
The furious assault of Mandalore's Lament did not break his shielded stance. It was raw, hateful, wild. Those attacks battered the stoic, unmoving bulwark as they had last time Geiseric and Khamul had fought. But he did not break.
Geiseric had known few Mandalorians in his life, but he had always welcomed them with open arms as brothers of Ession. Two peoples ground under the jackboots of the Sith Empire. The New Sith Order reforged at Thule and Csilla was not the House of Zambrano, but something more liberal and unrestrained, entirely uncivilized. Even still it made no sense that so many of the Mando'ade would submit themselves to that which should have been their mortal enemy.
Yet in that moment Geiseric began to understand his foe. The light that kept its gaze upon him throughout every battle of every campaign had faded. The darkness had encroached beyond the gates. The Sith were winning. As the Force shifted around them, uneven and off kilter, he heard it. In the back of his mind, pulling on him harder and harder until finally he broke, was a voice.
Will you let this man hurt you? As he has hurt this world, and countless before it? Will you let this man hurt your wife?
Of course not...
But there is only one way to solve this, Geiseric. Deep down you feel it. You know it. You've known it before. Remember the feeling when you saw the fires burning on Ession? You remember rage, do you remember catharsis?
Where is Ashla in this time of need? Falling from heaven?
And where will you be when this is over? The only way to stop this man from hurting you is to hurt him first. You are the vanguard. You know this is what Lord Grayson would expect of you.
How else will you control the spread of the infernal Bogan, if you cannot act first? If you cannot hurt it?
He understood. There was only darkness around him. All he had ever wanted to be in the service of Ashla was her light in the darkness. But he was not a bulb, static and relying on the external. Rather he was a fire that raged hotter and swelled brighter of its own power with every strike of the darksaber he blocked. The deeper into the darkness he delved, the brighter he shone.
Geiseric stepped deftly back and deactivated his shield. Outstretching his arm he called the power of the Force around him to his fingertips, no regard for whether it was energy of the Bogan or Ashla. As the thunder cracked in the ashen skies above them, lightning of gold arched from Geiseric's hand towards Khamul.
Ashla had been defiled, pieces of it ripped away and used against the very warriors that had sought to defend it. Such beautiful sacrilege, and a testament to the true power of the darkness that coalesced upon the planet. Khamul drank in the power with each passing moment, reveling in the desecration of one of the holiest places of the Jedi.
The vicious onslaught wrought upon the Crusader had largely been unfruitful, each attack crashing against the shield protecting the warrior of the Light. Much like on Kamar, their encounter seemed to be drifting toward a stalemate. Yet, among the crashing sounds of battle and the swirling energies of the Force, Khamul felt that something had changed. He quickly pulled back for a moment, reaching out through the Force as he prodded at the Crusader that stood so defiantly before him.
"So, you aren't unbreakable after all. I sense such frustration within you..."
He reached deeper into the empyrean, seeking anything he could that may offer him an edge. There was a connection, something that he had felt the last time they fought. A common thread that was woven between his opponent and another.
"Your feelings betray you, Jedi. They will cost you both your life, and the one you love."
Mandalore's Lament reached out, pointed toward Geiseric as Khamul sneered through his mask.
"I will ensure that she joins you in the next world."
Darkness began to swirl around the Crusader like a parasite reaching for a host. Khamul's own power seemed to swell within the disturbance, emboldened by the Crusader's faltering will.
"The only way to protect her is to kill me, Jedi. I will not stop until both you and her are dead. You know this to be true."
As the words left his lips, his foe unleashed a burst of energy. Golden lightning arced violently through the air, cutting a path straight toward the Demon Mandalore. His reaction was quick, turning Mandalore's Lament toward the side in an effort to block the attack. Despite the maneuver, Khamul felt his weight shift under the sheer power of the lightning, his feet sliding back as he held the golden light at bay. He was now bursting at the seams with rage, the darkness enveloping him in a shroud of anger.
"Good... fear is for the weak. And all the weak deserve is DEATH!"
His own free hand reached forth, and Khamul called upon all of his rage to unleash his own lightning. Black and red plasma erupted from his fingertips, shooting forth toward the Crusader in answer to the golden lightning called against the Mand'alor. This would be a battle of wills as much as one of strength, and Khamul's was as resolute as ever. The only question that remained is which would break first, the unstoppable force, or the immovable object...
The girl outstretched her hand towards the eldritch Sith. This was to him completely foreign, proof again that she was not a Jedi. But, that did not mean she was less foolish.
Vinaze obliged and from the darkness a stygian tentacle slithered, curling gently around Eina's wrist and then her forearm. It did not feel as one would expect, for it was simply an extension of Vinaze's energy rather than a material limb.
"You speak with some wisdom I would not have expected, girl. Though, you and I do not have the same view of things such as 'life'. My life is over, traded for the afterlife. Death, and Rebirth, as many lords I have served before have said. That is what I want. An end to this decadent and complacent galaxy. The people are content with waging endless wars, and grow fat upon the spoils. Surely you can see this too. This war that we have brought to Tython is the war to end all wars. You are in part correct. My rebirth, and the galaxies rebirth, cannot come until we all give up mortality. You see, however, the masses are not so willing to die for kingdom come."
Eina was similar, not real, as she was a Force Entity and was just present in her true form. Vinaze's touch was familiar; unpleasant, from a world she did not know. The girl lived a lot, but the Eldritch life forms were quite unfamiliar to her. She knew there was another dimension to them that was not Netherworld, another. The world from which Hyrva, among others, quoted things. It was like that, cold, prickly, foreign. It fit into the Netherworld at once, and it didn’t.
In contrast, the touch of Valkyrja is warm and pleasant. It has a calming effect on the soul. Oddly, it wasn’t necessarily Lightside, much more Neutral, so it probably didn’t hurt Vinaze. It could be as if the girl’s being, her strength, helped her think clearly, promising safety and protection, even for a Darksider or Eldritch creature. Not the slightest corruption was present in Eina's soul, she was pure, no matter how many demons she had killed during her life. And so that the aura of silver-gold that surrounded it began to fade, so did Eina's light.
These feelings had nothing to do with Lightside, the girl was a Valkyrja, the guardian, the helper and healer of souls. That was her real strength. However, Eina also sensed that Gei was sinking deeper into the darkness and perhaps her husband's faith was shaking. Through dyad, she tried to message her husband to support him.
~ Don't let the Bogan find its way into your heart my beloved crusader. You're stronger than that. Do not believe his words, his deeds and his actions, Khamul Kryze
is a Sith, he is trying to turn the power of the Bogan against you. Your faith, your devotion and your love for Ashla is stronger than anything, she never leaves you, your soul and your heart. Believe in this, in yourself, in us and in Ashla! Your light, our light shines the strongest in the greatest darkness, the Bogan cannot harm you! ~ she tried to tell him gently, while if she reached Gei with her words, the man could feel as if the woman was even stroking his face gently.
She then raised her eyes to look at Vinaze again.
~ And yet, demons and other creatures do the same in the Netherworld. Even if you kill everything and everyone, it will not end. Souls that are not consumed by Dark Voice go to the Netherworld. The weak merges into the Force, continues to exist as a stronger soul, becomes a different being, or becomes a demon. There are events, circles that cannot be broken. Death is a part of life in which there is nothing sad. What you talk about, what you want is not equal to death. Since the same circles over there, the same cycles run over and over again. The strong want to rule over the weak, to oppress them. Do you know why demons behave this way? This is inherited from their former mortal nature. Most of the "life forms" which are created in the Netherworld are neutral or just want harmony. They are not evil. ~ she told him.
She also touched Vinaze's tendril with the finger of her other hand, the calmness, harmony, balance became even stronger.
~ What you seek, what you want to achieve, it can not be achieved by death, not by war, not by destruction of all. The solution is that, way of thinking needs to change. We must teach souls, the living, the dead that there is another way. Not the Jedi, not the way of the Sith. Sacrifice must be made, yes, but it does not have to be measured in souls or lives. It is the dream of a mortal man, Lord Vinaze. Would you be able to change for the future you want? Would you be able to be more than your mortal shadow? ~ she asked him.
The planet evolved into more turmoil and destruction. Not only did Ashla hailed smothering rock into Tython, but also volcanoes and earthquakes rocked Tython to its very core. It was nauseating to sense Tython’s reckoning, very distracting to Simon’s senses from feeling its pain. This rock could explode any moment from how it shook. Lightning crying havoc; the heavens raining fire; and the earth compressing its plates violently. He did wonder what next could happen. Would the next event be the end to a world which was responsible, in its roots, the Jedi and the Sith? Or was there more to suffer?
Should it be the end, at least all of them would perish. Him and his ilk, along with the Jedi and Sith and their minions.
If that were to be, then let it be.
His lightsaber burned her skin, slightly grazing her hip upon deflecting his blade. She retaliated with speed, faster than him, and her lightsaber meant to sever him in a diagonal cut from hip to shoulder. Naturally, he reacted to deflect her blade but wasn’t quite successful as her lightsaber brushed his armored torso and later slashed his shoulder bare from any protection. Flesh and muscle was burned; no doubt some ligaments were damaged from contact. Adrenaline was a marvelous thing to not notice how bad was the injury.
He wouldn’t allow himself to be on defense. No, he would present an attack with a slash at her torso and attack low with a heavy, armored kick at her knee. Break her balance and make her retreat.
Location: Alliance High Command, Naboo Timeline: One week prior to the Battle of Tython
Senator Kel squared his shoulders, awaiting a rebuttal from Chancellor Tithe, but it was another voice that broke the silence - it’s owner was one that Kel knew well, and held a deep respect for: former Chancellor Adhira Chandra. She commanded the attention of the room by merely clearing her throat; It was indicative of just how revered she was as the former head of the Galactic Alliance… and how much of a fool Tithe seemed in comparison. Kel settled back him his seat, resting his bones and training his eyes on Chandra.
”…the last time so many of us -- of you came together in one room was to address the Csilla Crisis... a horrifying attack by the Maw, not on a planet of the Alliance... but upon a sovereign system that cried out desperately for protection."
Csilla… They all remembered Csilla. Kel flicked his eyes to each of the delegates, taking note of their discomfort. Being reminded of such a tragedy made their visceral objections to lend command to the Alliance seem a paltry price to pay for the end of the Maw.
”The planet Csilla now lies in ruins at the hand of our mutual enemy... millions dead, because when the Csilla summit concluded the leaders of the major powers in the galaxy had not reached a sufficient enough agreement to repel these abominations."
"I walked away from that summit without a solution. I let the opportunity of cooperation slip through my fingers! And I am not prepared to let that happen again today."
The Maw proved without a shadow of a doubt just how frenzied their lust for destruction was at the Battle of Csilla, annihilating the entire planet and leaving only an asteroid field in its place. And they were going to do it again, to Tython, if the summit couldn’t find common ground.
Kel shifted in his seat, processing the former Chancellor’s call to arms. It almost felt like the good old days, when the Senate was driven by diplomacy and reason. And as usual, Chandra was right. Every word. Kel knew it, but he wasn’t so sure the Baron and Admiral could be swayed. The Quartermaster, especially, would need to be convinced.
”The Chancellor is not asking any of you to surrender your national sovereignty, only that you allow our High Command to coordinate our efforts. The Maw is betting on us to fail in this endeavor... but it is time for everyone at this table to decide where to draw the line."
"If we do not stand together now, there may never be another chance."
Yes, those were the words he’d searched for but couldn’t find. If only Tithe’s abrasive demands had been so eloquently delivered, perhaps the summit would be halfway through a solid plan of engagement by now. Kel was proud of his idea to divide the defending forces into strike teams with clear objectives, but he now wondered if that would even be necessary. If Chandra could convince the Crusade and Empire to accept a coordinated effort from Alliance Command, the defenders would be an incredible force against the Maw. Perhaps even the Enclave would follow suit, seeing themselves the odd ones out.
Before Kel could offer any thoughts of his own to the delegation, The Quartermaster rebutted Chandra’s speech, her words full of poison.
”So the Mandalorians want free reign to traipse across Tython with no regard for the history they’d crush beneath their boots?”
He waiting for the Mandalorian to finish her argument before speaking, choosing his next words carefully.
“You expect the Alliance to support the wanton destruction of Jedi history?” Kel interjected.
“Forgive me if I’m incorrect, but I understand the Mandalorians to be a deeply reverent people. Surely you can understand the need to preserve cultural integrity where possible, yes? If not for the sake of the Jedi or the Alliance, than perhaps for the sake of principle?”
Kel kept his eyes focused on the Quartermaster. He knew from her folded arms that she’d made up her mind, but he hoped his appeal to honor would loosen her disposition. It was well-known that the Mandalorians held little regard, even contempt, for the Jedi and their sacred worlds, but Kel made a promise to help preserve what he could during the battle. It was bad enough that Tython was under threat of total annihilation, but saving the planet only for it to be a charred rock devoid of history and sanctity was little better.
Kyrel kept up the momentum of the assault. The four blades in each hand clashed against the Jedi’s own blade. With each slash he started to slowly drive the man back. His fury was so focused on Kahlil he didn’t know where or what Valery was up to. An unholy screech came from his maw as he felt the sting of a lightsaber on the tongue’s flesh.
Enhanced by the dark side it felt as if the assault was never ending. The dead man didn’t move as fast as the Jedi, but even his heavy body dealt powerful blows with each strike he could carry. Even with the bright flashes coming his way, his Voxyn senses saw through that. His sights were firmly locked on the Jedi before him.
Then he could feel it, Valery hadn’t interfered directly, but his form allowed him to sense her meddling in the duel. This had only made him growl in anger, each step more ferocious than the last as the slashing of sabers became far too numerous to keep count. With each jump, and step he made Kyrel was sure to follow with another crushing strike.
Then in his wild flurry he felt his blade strike his hands. After a couple strikes the flesh opened, black fluid started to spray and hit the Jedi, luckily for him the spray narrowly avoided his body openings. Kyrel cried out as he felt a saber knocked out him, a hand almost cleaved off and barely holding itself together.
Letting out a vicious roar, he responded back with brutality, as with force he started to crash his fists into the Jedi. Amplifying more power into his punches, as he slammed the man against the already breaking glass, cracks started to form, attempting to trap the man, the black fluid started to come in more. His body unleashing dark waves of energy in hopes of canceling Valery out. Even hoping to keep the Jedi pinned so that she may come to him. His dead eyes fixed on the Jedi’s own. “You can’t kill me…” He said, his gaze looking over the support of the structure, waiting for the Jedi to push him off, in hopes of drawing both of them to him. His aim was to bring down the structure with all of them inside.
Moments following his attack the ground quaked violently as en explosion triggered beneath the ruined temple, causing the very earth to shatter and opening up large rifts leading to the unspeakable depths below. Thurion found himself balancing on the edge of such rift, staring down into the pits of the Underworld itself. For a moment he had to convince himself the Goddess of Death would not swoop in to drag him down with Her.
He lifted his gaze over to where Xanesh remained, severely injured from the combination of his furious charge and the explosion. Her lightsaber fell from her hand and into the valley below, and she too was about to fall. A part of him felt content in letting her do just that, to put an end to her miserable existence. Another, stronger part of him, ultimately prevailed.
Thurion leaped across the expanding chasm in time catch the Lady Sith as she stumbled, whisking her away from the edge to find a clearing amidst all the madness engulfing the planet. He laid down her semi-conscious body upon a patch of grass, soft and green and somehow left unscathed. Kneeling by her side, he proceeded to lift her head up so she might meet his gaze. The boiling of his blood had cooled, now as he looks upon her broken form, defeated.
He could see in her eyes the person she used to be. The true nature, behind the mask all Sith wore. Misguided though he believed them to be in their hatred, at the end of the day they were just people. It had never been a talent of his he relished, killing Sith. They were but a dark reflection of himself, and all other Jedi.
The fury in his eyes waned, and what remained was only kindness. One last kindness for a worthy adversary.
"May you find in death what you could not in life," he told her, meaning every last word. He then placed his lightsaber against her chest, above her heart, and rested his thumb against the ignition.
"Are you ready?"
Only at her own behest, the slightest of nods, did Thurion activate his weapon and relieve her of this mortal coil. The beam of light burned a clean hole through her chest, ending her life in a instant. Painless. The Jedi Master closed her eyes before he rose to his feet, bowing at her final resting place before he would return to the fight.
The struggles of Darth Xanesh had ended, whereas theirs remained.
Upon rejoining the party, he quickly got updated on events. "Of this we can be certain," he replied to the group through their Force merge. "We must discover the source of these detonations and put a stop to them." Even as they fought their words carried from one mind to another without interrupting. They were in complete synch.
"I will go," he volunteered, then looked to Master Vanagor fighting beside him. "Are you with me, Caltin?"
Colrinal Crook, Southern Kalesh Plains, Temple Valley, Tython(Late-Autumn of 876 ABY)
TLDR:
Carwood's peers push forth to wreak havoc on the enemy lines
Wyll and Rosk'Aiar find themselves working to fix the near-envelopment on the left flank
The chosen place to act on the old Woad's cavalry-plan looks perfect to the IMPAF-knights already
The Knight-Captains, contrasting though their preferred weapons were, (along with the accompanying fighting-styles) it seemed as though they were both meant to fight shoulder-to-shoulder, foe for foe. The old Woads had trained them well, knowing exactly what it took to bring out the best in Wyll and Rosk'Aiar alike, seeing the potential in the younger warriors from opposing points-of-view time and time again without complaint, and all to forge the knighted guardsmen into the heroes they were both destined to be in the first place.
Already engaging at distance with the center-left overspill by the time the two IMPAF-knights cut their way through their own swathes of enemy troopers, the sounds of agony, exertion and trauma would ring out in the storms ahead for the friendlies making use of the alleviated pressures, and when they eventually reached the heavily-engaged vanguard contingent ahead of the advancing Sabretooth contingents, the action with the 501st Legion was already grinding into to a battle of attrition. Yet such battles always played into the hands of the Empire, having fought such wars before, having encountered many such vicious slogs in the dirt along the way before ever encountering the Maw for the first time, but no Imperials present were ever going to leave that assumption to fester in so-called safe assurances. Hubris wasn't in the Empire's nature, and the same would and could be said for a vast majority of her citizens, and this would certainly apply for the likes of Sir Martin and Rosk'Aiar, jumping into the heaviest of the fighting with the aim of alleviating any pressure they could in the process.
'You, send word to your commander! Simple Sit-Rep,"We're plugging up the breaches on your left flank, potentially punching through on their end. Lord Carwood has a plan.", think you can remember all that?'
'Yes, sir!', Dorce's subordinate exclaimed, expressing confidence in the face of strength as she answered Knight-Captain Wyll with posture straight in her quick-drilled motion of standing to attention, on the verge of saluting until the Tusken shook his head and pointed to a spot just above his brow. "No headdress, no salutes.", and the trooper understood immediately, continuing,'Thank you, Captain Rosk'Aiar! I'll see to this order now, but please hold on a moment. I want to help.', in grateful response as she reached for her comm-device. Rosk'Aiar would then nod appreciatively as he comfortably set his Gaffi stick over his shoulder to make brief use of the Disruptor pistol at his hip instead, aiming down the iron-sights as his shots carefully picked off whatever approaching enemies dared to spring forth from the storm-obscured melee beyond.
<"Larris to Thorn! Relaying message for Captain Wyll from IMPAF-Command. Goes as follows,"We're plugging up the breaches on your left flank, potentially punching through on their end. Lord Carwood has a plan.", handing over the relevant callsigns now. Ivy out!">
'Excellent work, Corporal! If I didn't know any better - I'd accuse you of being a damned HRD!'
As soon as she was done talking, Corporal Larris added to the north-shooting pressure with some disruptor fire in support, slapping Wyll on the shoulder as she took up on a firing-position to the left of the IMPAF-knights, letting off another couple bursts of disruptor fire to tear into another lacklustre attempt to break through with small-arms pressure of their own. The makeshift IMPAF-trio were much too active in their renewed push northward, gaining support from the fastest Sabretooth runners from 4th Battalion, and from there, leading with the small addition of six or seven of Tsilor's subordinates to get close enough for melee, making clear and present intent to flex their dominance in CQC and trench-fighting brutality. More would join the proceedings in time, but the main bulk of the Empire's western landings would be much too preoccupied with the rest of the static-line for a while yet, so the small force of officers and assorted Imperial Stormtroopers would need to make do with what they had for as long as necessary.
And or as long as they were expected to engage in close-quarters fighting, nothing else could be done until further reinforcements arrived, though it looked like none among them seemed to mind. They worried not, and with good reason.
'DIIIIIIIE, SCUM!!!!'
War's crucible had become a second-home of sorts to the Empire's best warfighters in the years since Nirauan's cessation from the Zambrano fold, though the concept of being the best (and strongest) army in the galaxy in and of itself was more a source for competitive-spirit than pride, especially for an empire with a vast array that was filled to the brim with elite soldiers and commanders alike. Incompetence never had a chance to fester at the top, and especially not within the ranks of the 501st or the 313th respectively, for a state knowing nothing but perpetual war would never get the chance to learn the meaning and faux-benefits of complacency, hubris or procrastination. It was always the will to push on, to keep moving forward as Irveric Tavlar had before them, to honour the powers granted them to further Rurik Fel's foothold everywhere his armies roamed.
'HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRGH!!!!'
COMETS COLLIDE: ORDER VS. CHAOS - PART 9
The Lonely Isle, Lake Kaleth, Temple Valley, Tython (Late-Autumn of 876 ABY)
TLDR:
Asher & Mercy approach the campfire
Erskine takes note of the severe changes in Asher since their previous encounter
The sword Thomas forged for the Mongrel is drawn
Erskine declares his last duel and battle as a commander
Rurik's will and testament patched-through via comm-link
"Nor I.", and I can see how.
Dia, you know not the wrongs you've committed.
Before Erskine had the chance to continue, just the mumble itself, robotic though the vocal tone had begun, confirmed it to be the one he both revered and rivalled with equalling intensity. And though he continued on with the obvious, admitting the limited years of good fighting in an attempt to keep his composure, Barran couldn't help but feel for the Mongrel in these moments, remembering the face of the man he faced at the base of the Kyber-Mine mountain on Ilum. A strange sense of nostalgia was coming to life like the flames between them, made even more intense for old Woad when the Mawite hero continued,'We will have a definitive answer this time,', giving clear voice to the same obsession that incessantly clawed at the dreams and waking thoughts of both warriors. Looking down on the Lord-General from a height much tallter than the Woad, having previously stood slouching at a similar height in human form, the Mongrel shocked Erskine as his full form drew to a distance close enough to leave no illusions as to how much danger his opponent in at the time.
'No interruptions. No interference. Just the two of us, blade to blade, as it was always meant to be.'
An intoxicating concept, even with his enemy standing right in front of him, sending shivers up and down the old man's spine as Asher continued,'We've changed, Barran,', unleashing the harsh truth with feeling Lord Erskine never knew he possessed, despite being unable to have his emotions betrayed by a face that no longer existed. For what the Champion of the Three was referring to, simple though it was, described something far more profound than anything resting within the realm of the cosmetic, the domain of all the wounds the warriors incurred over the years. Giving credence to this revelation, the Mongrel's robotic voice boomed,'We say so each time we meet, but this time - this final time - most of all. Inside and out, we are not the same men we were when this war began.', letting the real truth of the matter hang in the air like a fraying old flag atop a castle's uppermost tower.
Not even Barran had been able to escape the curse of limb-loss, and though it paled greatly in comparison to the entire body his rival had lost in the Second Great Hyperspace War, the agonies the Lord-General had suffered to make it so far were also known and seen to have been felt at some point by the Mongrel, understanding that the same pain-thresholds had been transcended on his way to cybernetic prominence. It would have been considered impressive if it hadn't pained the Stormchaser to see the Mawite champion like this, as it was becoming painfully obvious that Asher had been the one who had been blighted hardest by the years of endless war, and the more Lord Erskine considered it, the more vivid the picture of blood, pain and anguish became as each violent brushstroke lashed at the forefront of Barran's mind.
'Our blades, too, are much different.'
The only thing that had any chance of breaking such a depressing reverie, as strange as his day had been so far, would be the horror that followed; for not even joy would have shaken such a darkening of the soul, nor would a victory, only terror, and the rational fear of a weapon-design he knew all too well. A fear that cared not for the dewy-eyed, generations-old desire to see the ancestor the design was originally based on, and all registering as much too close to home as the the stakes continued to rise before him. Whoever had forged this blade had similar knowledge of Goidelic history, or at least enough to know the design and faithfully adapt it to scale for a cyborg who was naturally stronger than the hands that wielded it's songsteel predecessor many centuries before that day. The songsteel greatsword of the First Exile, beautiful and frightening all the same though it was, paled in both prettiness and size to the singing Beskar successor that Barran could see being drawn before his very eyes.
'A sword that no living Goidel has ever dared recreate, and like the God I pray to, your smith knows not the wrongs he has committed.... For you are fighting the Last Exile with a sword the First would've preferred for single-combat.... Life an' all it's little ironies, eh?'
First came an incredulous, head-shaking wheeze, followed by the most rueful, sour laughter the Lord-General hadn't heard in his larynx since his depressing years as a PMC Captain, since his own departure from Galidraan decades before the fight to return - and he hated it more than anything he ever loathed in his life.
'Live or die, I want today's battle to be my last as a military commander, and of course, for it to be my last duel as a swordsman.... It's not like I could ascend any higher or anything, I've achieved all that I set out to achieve and then some. All there is that remains to me is this, Mongrel. The only thing about this war I've held onto, the only prospect that got me out of my bed every day was always the thought of fighting my last fight against you.'
<"Lord General."> Emperor.... Rurik is still alive, the fight continues. Good news for a change.
Good news of which the Stormchaser was in dire need, good news that would grow scant and scarcer as the fight on Tython worsened. But it wasn't meant to be, as in the moment all his ambitions were turning to ashes in his mouth, when his hopes of survival had been cast aside for the sake of ending the rivalry once and for all, the Emperor's sudden rejuvenation would sour to sickness in the Woad's gut before the very eyes and ears of all in attendance. However, much to the Lord-General's temporary lack of strategic awareness, and much to the impending misfortune as a result, the proverbial sleight of hand would start with the greatest of good news.
Confirmation of his Emperor's victory over one of the NIO's most-heinous turn-cloaks.
<"Relay to the others that The Betrayer has been slain and that Solipsis is next.">
'For Irveric. For the man who kept me from ending it all on Ziost.'
With knees growing momentarily weak, the perceived giddiness in himself was shadowing the approach of the real emotion that began to rise up in his throat, hitting his eyes as the Lord-General's jaw clenched with war-like, cathartic elation. Then, just as Lord Erskine was on the verge of controlling the screaming of his soul, the old Woad then threw his head back and roared into the stormy skies above, clenching fists both of flesh and of cybernetic-design as the old tribal-chieftain howled sweet justice into the hidden sky beyond the clouds. But as all things had become for Barran of late, the sweetest catharsis would dry to ashes in a heartbeat, for the ultimate mantle of responsibility (the ultimate position for any general in the Empire) would throw his most humble of hopes to the wind. After the conclusion of Rurik's message, no honourable death could be permitted of the Mongrel's sword, nor would any desire for a quiet retirement from the Second Great Hyperspace War, henceforth committing the Stormchaser to seeing the war through to it's bitter end.
<"Until otherwise spoken by me and me alone, you have command of the Empire, not merely its army, The Empire. Whatever you need will of it to achieve victory this day...do it. I care not for the cost, our will be done this day. Ave Empire.">
Scattering his dream of retirement or death to the winds, like dust on Korriban.
Like snow on Ilum.
'Of all the people you could've chosen as your Imperial custodian.... Ave Rurik, Ave - Imperium.'
<"All units! This is Lord-General Barran! The Betrayer, Darth Caelitus has been slain! Our Emperor has triumphed over Chaos once more, and he aims to fight the Dark Lord Solipsis next! Order will prevail, the strong will prevail - THE EMPIRE WILL PREVAIL!!!! Lance One out!">
COMETS COLLIDE: ORDER VS. CHAOS - PART 10
The Reach of Kalikori, Southern Kalesh Plains, Temple Valley, Tython (Late-Autumn of 876-ABY)
TLDR:
Jokes are traded between the two Woads to break the ice
Honesties are stated
Carwood reveals his grand plan before Erskine's sitrep patches through to everyone
'Carwood,', the hulking shadow began as he drew closer into focus, made easier with the slight dissipation on the southern side of the valley. Still an intimidating figure, even at his age, though this was exactly what Lord Carwood had been hoping for, almost confirmed in the cynical sarcasm of his response as Laird of Faslane continued,'Wis it the latter, it wisnae long enough.', to which a cackling, amiably mirthful reply was given almost as soon as the endearing insult landed. And yet, despite the jesting abrasiveness, Lord Ollis would be considerate in the moments following his quick appraisal of the new arrivals, admitting,'A'd rather hae five mare, an' no war aroun' us.', before offering a curt, though courteous nod in the Elite-Trooper's direction. Though the kindness and courtesy were there and taken for what they were, McGechin knew his old friend was correct in a way, as it seemed that times were better when their paths still seldom crossed, an observation of necessity that both understood well enough.
Better talkin' about it in hindsight, wi' single-malts in hand. Fair play, Br'er. Noted.
'Whit's yoor plan, lad? Mine are rearin' tae fecht.'
Sniggering at the typically-Barran enthusiasm, Lord-Captain McGechin quickly shot a glance towards Annor as he started,'Get a load o' thisone, eh?', with gaze turning back to his old friend with eyes widening in shared sentiments and similar intentions. Then after a cursory slap on the madman's arm, (which would've been anyone else's shoulder, though Ollis' height alone made such aspirations a pipe-dream at best for Carwood) McGechin reached into his own pocket, pulled out his hip-flask and drank from it before growling,'All jokes aside, this plan is one I think you'll very much enjoy.', before passing the same hipflask to Ollis without so much as a second thought. Assuming Barran more than capable enough to drink and pay attention at the same time, McGechin continued,'We're going to get Annor here behind enemy lines, then we're going to attack the real threat from behind as soon as you veer southwards again.', silently beckoning Lord Ollis north-eastward as he was still revealing the main pitch of his plan.
'We expect the breach in the enemy lines to appear at roughly this angle, as I've got some very capable swords in the mix to make this happen.... All we need is the right place, right pace, and the right face leadin' the charge - an' this is where you come in.'
<"All units! This is Lord-General Barran! The Betrayer, Darth Caelitus has been slain! Our Emperor has triumphed over Chaos once more, and he aims to fight the Dark Lord Solipsis next! Order will prevail, the strong will prevail - THE EMPIRE WILL PREVAIL!!!! Lance One out!">
After her warning had echoed out to her husband, he acted on it immediately and struck the Wrath's tongue with his green blade before it could connect with him. The surprise combined with their coordinated efficiency gave Kahlil an edge in the fight, and so after deflecting and evading a series of powerful attacks from Kyrel, he managed to land a hit that nearly severed one of the Ren's hands. The black liquid his body seemed to be made of spurted everywhere from the injury, and the weapon he held in his grasp dropped down to the metal floor.
Slowly but surely, the two Jedi were turning the tide of this battle in their favor — she could feel it. But she also understood that an enemy like Kyrel should never be underestimated, even after taking such extensive damage. He had proven before that he was a tank capable of pushing himself through great injuries, so they had to keep fighting with all their focus and strength.
Almost Ready.
Valery echoed to Kahlil, right as Kyrel began a barrage of unarmed attacks, fueled by his anger and hatred towards the couple. To shield or cover Kahlil against each and every attack would be impossible, but her focus was his, and she knew he wasn't going to let himself get pinned down in his current state — he was calm, collected. But when she finally was ready to strike back against the monster of the Maw, Valery came to his aid and allowed the strings of light to extend out towards her enemy.
The shroud of darkness he created wasn't going to stop her, not when she was fighting with and for her husband. So with her hands extended, she hoped to cast the Light around the Master of Ren, trapping him within a fortress of it so his darkness was contained, and hopefully slowly withered away. Whether that worked or not, it would at least give Kahlil some time to adjust his stance or plan an attack of his own. But Valery was hoping to use a technique she once learned in her old Enclave, and Sever him from the Force.
"Do not fight it, Kyrel. Even your darkness can't shroud my Light."
It was an ambitious plan, she knew that but the technique was considered the most powerful a Jedi could use against the Dark Side by the legendary Odan Urr for a reason — it was non-lethal in nature, but it had the ability to neutralize a corrupted threat if it were to succeed. Kyrel was still one of those Dark Siders she believed to be beyond redemption, but if she could somehow weaken him even a little bit, it could give the two Jedi the last push to finally rid this Galaxy of his evil.
And with the Master's Retreat soon coming down entirely, they had no time to waste.
Confront House Io, eliminate all members of its Boarding Party and disarm their nukes. These were the objectives Grand Overseer Marlon Sularen had given to Joseph Torson and his Company of mixed Elite Raptor Commandos and Retribution Corps Operatives stationed onboard the Avatar of War. House Io was a familiar name to the Torson as it was well known throughout the Final Dawn. Its actions at Jedha and Epoch made it a feared and hated organization in the eyes of many as shown with how brutal they were, a form of brutality only rivaled by the Maw itself. Nevertheless Joseph Torson and his men were different for they were no regular Final Dawn Infantry. No, they were the Hand of Judgement, the Final Dawn’s finest,. If House Io was fast, then the Hand of Judgement was faster, if House Io was strong, then the Hand of Judgement was stronger, if House Io had a lot of manpower, then the Hand of Judgement would have more, and if House Io brought their Force-Users well, the Hand of Judgement would bring their own Supersoldiers. Sularen’s Judgement would be brought down upon House Io and the Hand of Judgement never failed to deliver.
Thus the Hand of Judgement marched to war, with a long column of Elite Raptors (At the front) and Retribution Corps Operatives (At the rear) making their way towards the location of one of the groups of House Io Androids who themselves were headed towards the Nutrient Storage and at the head of this column was none other than Captain Joseph Torson. They had brought a variety of heavy weaponry such as Submachine Guns, Shotguns, Missile Launchers and different types of Blaster Rifles with them to confront House Io’s Androids along with both Plasma and Repulsor Grenades. The Raptors had the bonus of being cybernetically enhanced with three layers of armor capable of protecting them from direct blaster fire, cybernetic arms with retractable Kamikiri blades (Both lightsaber-resistant and capable of deflecting blaster fire), a powerful skeletal coating and enhanced vision not to mention they also had personal shield generators which further protected them from blaster fire. These soldiers were expert marksman and skilled in melee combat, in addition to this they were agile and capable of rapidly reacting to their enemy. They were the Final Dawn’s best of the best and had no equals. Not even House Io’s Neutralizer Androids could survive the Hand of Judgement and the fight that was to come would be proof of that.
As the Hand of Judgement closed in on their target arriving at a hallway intersection, Joseph Torson ordered his men to split up with the Raptors remaining with him and the Retribution Corps Operatives splitting into two groups. Torson and the Raptors who were better suited to fighting House Io’s Neutralizers then their Retribution Corps counterparts would engage House Io straight on while the Retribution Corps would move around their flanks and arrive right behind them in a pincer maneuver, surrounding them and giving them no escape route. Thus once the Retribution Corps were gone, Torson and his men made their advance passing through a closed blast door arriving at a long hallway where the Captain immediately motioned for his men to move into combat positions behind him arranged in three rows, while Torson took a FGL-2000 SLAM Launcher from a fellow Raptor. After a few seconds, the Neutralizer Androids of House Io showed up and the first two rows of Raptors (The First one crouched and the second one kneeling down) immediately took aim precisely aiming at the heads and chests of the Androids. As they would advance, Torson smiled behind his mask before kneeling and firing two missiles towards the advancing Androids which was immediately followed by a volley of Grenades thrown by they third row of standing Raptors and finally heavy blaster fire from the first two rows of Raptors and Torson himself who dropped his SLAM Launcher and took out a pair of NK01 Fujita Rail Pistols before also firing at the Androids.
Hopefully the Raptors would be able to take down a few Androids before having to engage in close-quarters combat, and when that would occur, the Raptors would unleash their wrath upon the Androids with an intensity they would have never seen before from the Final Dawn. By the will of the Avatars, the Hand of Judgement would come crashing down upon them and when it would there would be no escape for these poor souls who thought they could defy the Final Dawn, who thought they could defy THE MAW.
"Well, nice to know it's not from a change of character," Amani snipped, returning with her handful.
"Don't suppose you can draw blood?" She offered a few materials toward Kai, as well as protective gear. If their reactions to the spores were any indicator, the kid seemed a lot more susceptible to Surea's affliction than Amani, which was another inquiry all its own. "Your own blood, specifically? I wouldn't mind another source to compare."
She turned back to Surea, unamused by the second comment, "Does it get exhausting to instinctively expect the worst out of everyone? I'm not some mad scientist. I'm a doctor. Which means I need to know how your blood, well, works. Which means I need a fresh sample."The syringe was raised, and there was a pause as Amani waited for some kind of reaction from the Sith, "May I?"
Of course, she intended to get it regardless of her answer.
Kai took the protective gear and slapped it on. Mask, goggles, hell he'd take a whole environmental suit if Amani offered it. He was not gonna get infected again, no matter how funny it made the world seem.
He didn't have much to say to either of the two women, apart from a <Thank you> to Amani for the gear. The Mirialan was more or less in control of the situation now, and Kai was just acting as an enforcer, if that. Surea was just complaining at this point.
<Quit stalling,> he told the Sith. <You're not going anywhere, might as well get it over with.>
Kahlil's eyes narrowed as some scattered on his robe. No, he didn't trust it at all. Not since he saw it seeming to crawl to him earlier. Not that he was in any position to pull it off. Instead, disarming pulled away the lethal blades but pushed the monster into a deeper wrath. He was thrown back, arms covering his face. Ah, good thing he actually bother with armor for once. His focus shifted, enhancing his body to take the blows.
The green of his saber extinguished as he took the bare knuckle beat down, gritting his teeth through the pain it brought.
Then he felt it.
He reared a hand back, twisting himself to roll from one of Kyrel's punches before launching his own. It wouldn't hurt, Kahlil knew that much. That wasn't the point.
"We're not trying to kill you. You've already died." He raised his hand again, this time as an open palm. Reaching through the Force to catch the weight of Kyrel's fists against him. To hold him and keep him from stopping Valery.
"It's easier." Surea did her best to bite back the seething anger that had started to flood her mind. Cure her Rot? It was hers. She pulled back, away from the syringe. No, she didn't want to get poked by another damn needle. "Tython is burning, and you're going to focus on this. Seems misplaced, Jedi. Aren't there people down there who need your help?" Well, probably. And the Sith, namely her, was probably why they hadn't bothered to try.
That was fine though. The soft beep from behind her back was enough of an answer.
"Focus on them."
She reached out with the Force, pulling on the emergency latch to pop open the airlock behind her and let herself get sucked out into the burning skies.
Amani scoffed, "You don't think I'd rather?" Her homeworld was falling apart beneath them. And as much as it pained her to not be down there now, she had already accepted the frustrating truth that her usefulness was better suited to this task. There were hundreds of Jedi defending Tython. Last she checked, there weren't any others trying to stop whatever Surea had planned. The healer could see the danger in the Rot's long-term survival.
"This is happening, one way or anoth-" Her voice was sucked out of the air, the rapid change in pressure sent anything not tied down flying towards the exit. Amani was pulled the same way, barely managing to catch herself against the entry frame. With one hand she reached out on instinct, attempting to grab hold of Surea in mid-air and prevent her escape.
The airlock abruptly opened by Surea's hand, cutting off Amani in the middle of her sentence. Kai was nearly sucked out of his chair, a prospect made all the more excruciating by his broken leg.
Alas, Surea was gone. Er, well, almost. Amani was making a valiant effort to prevent her from escaping by holding her in place with the Force. Kai seized hold of the airlock controls and sealed them shut, more for his own sake than anything else, before he turned his attention to the Sith and attempted to stun her.
"Open your eyes, fool!" Captain Monk snarled, "Ancient aliens? Please be reasonable. The Rakata Empire was a myth. More Jedi lies to suppress the true legacy of the Sith. They were jealous and intolerant, so they cast out those who dared to defy their rigid doctrine!"
His temples throbbed. Vector ignored the rumbling of a world on fire. Dust fell with each quake while stone foundations began to crack. Each Final Dawn stormtrooper remained frozen like the carved sentinel.
"I can see there is only one way to settle this. You refuse to see the evidence before your eyes, clinging instead to sacred texts and superstition. As I told your assistant Starlight, history is written by the victors. Now...it's our turn."
“I thought you believed the Sith came before the Jedi,” Nimdok said, his voice as smooth as silk and his features carefully arranged—save for that ever-present, faint smirk. “Wouldn’t it have been the other way around, if that were the case? The Sith casting out the Jedi?...”
Monk had had enough, thank the Force, and they began to get on with the business of their duel. Nimdok took the offered pistol and examined it. He knew nothing about firearms, but it looked decent enough. Taking aim, he shot at two of the Final Dawn soldiers just to make sure it hadn’t been tampered with. Very nice indeed.
“Ten paces,” he echoed. “Out of deference to you, sir, I won’t use the Force to even the odds.”
He turned and walked the ten paces, his back to Monk.
Location: Downed Star Destroyer Engaging: Romund Sro
It was a risk, splitting his attention like that. A risk he was willing to take because helping Nyaeli
find peace was important to him. Nearly as important had been taking out the guns of the destroyer, a good number of which were now totally useless. Of least importance to him was his personal well-being. He could take a beating and was willing to do so if it meant stopping people from getting killed. So, splitting his attention had been the right decision for him at the time, even though he was certain that he would pay for it.
And he did.
The fist struck with good force, knocking him backward and breaking his concentration on the connection with Nyaeli, and destroying the ship's weapons systems. Unfortunate. The blow gave him a dead arm, but he knew that would go away after a time. It wasn't as though he particularly required the use of that arm at the moment. It would be bothersome if he was keen to fight, but fighting was the last thing he had on his mind. It was only about doing what he had to in order to keep this person from continuing to kill others. If he succeeded, he would turn his attention to doing the same, even if it meant stopping Jedi.
"Why do you curse me when I do you no harm and seek only to stop the bloodshed?" he asked, standing where he'd stopped after being hit.
This person was not going to stop attacking him. That was obvious. At least, not without some force being applied. He needed to lock him down so he could finish taking care of the ship, so he lifted his good hand and focused the Force through it with the intent of locking Romund into a stasis state. If he was unable to move, he would be able to do no harm and then Barrien could focus on the ship.
Auteme understood the pull of the Force, how those feelings and instincts could draw a Jedi to something. Romi needed to do something; Auteme had no reason to stop her. Yet, her own feeling as of late was that these striking visions and pulls could lead to the worst. A seed of doubt planted itself in her mind, but with the great burden they held -- the pieces of Ashla, slowed to a halt -- she didn't have time yet to acknowledge it.
"No worries -- do what you need to do. We'll manage." Her mind went briefly to the Jedi beside her. With Asmundr and Henna's help they were stabilizing the situation. Distantly, Cotan as well, and another- Asha, surely, who was helping keep Tython stable. For a moment it struck her how far she'd come, standing among beings such as these, but the weight above forced her back.
She couldn't spare Romi too many words at a time. "We're keeping things together. There's so many people here, so many battles -- just fight your own, I think, and stay safe."
Project Uriel
Akemi Io
there to assist.
