Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!
Location: Space between MAW and GA ships
Current situation: Floating
Faith was ready to leave the ship she thought she was all alone now that everyone had gone. Just then the face of the LT appeared he smiled, she nodded back. She should have known that he would have stayed to make sure she was off, "Hit the button then get off the ship LT you hear me"
He nodded.
A loud boom as the bolts which held the outer doors in place exploded allowing the escape pod to float free of the ship into open space. Faith immediately looked around outside where the other pods were, she couldn't make out the shapes of them, but she could see the larger ships in battle. It was as if she had become a bug waiting for a boot to step on her that was how much of a size difference there was.
She flipped the switch for the beacon to tell anyone near them that she was in distress. She could maneuver some which would take some time watching for others and yet heading in a direction she hoped would be to safety.
She felt she could feel the very vibrations of the engines bouncing against the pod. Was it possible that the larger ship movements were impacting the movement of the pod. A slow drift how close was the ship?
From the header to the template, it's all amazing work! Thank you very much, Nef! Scar Hounds are rollin' out in the DRIP now! THE ANNIHILATION OF TYTHON
Scar Hound Array
X1Scavenged Goliath Main Battle Tank
X50SHT-66 "Malm-hrið" Heavy Battle Droids X100SHT-26 "Bedevil" Heavy War Bikes X75Scavenged XT-62 "Cataphract" Main Battle Tanks
X20Branchlurkers
X300Moon Children
NEXUS OF THE BLOOD-HOUND: SHRIVEN NO MORE - PART EIGHTEEN
The Summit of Mt. Geran, Eastern Arros Range, Northern Temple Valley, Tython (Late-Autum of 876 ABY)
Crack!
First it was the headbutt, cracking the glass along the center of the left goggle on Barran's gas-mask.
CRUNCH!
Then came the elbow to follow up on the heavy first hit, sending the glass inward and cutting up Barran's eyebrow and upper-left cheekbone.
Not bad for a Pureblood. Not bad at all.
Thomas was pleased, as it had previously felt disappointing to see that none that day were seen to be making such use of their foreheads until Katis' close-quarters offering, and yet still fewer utilising elbows in their striking-options. And just as Barran was about to start picking the glass out, Katis queried,'My worst?', in near-exclaimed incredulity as his Force abilities finally came into play. Emanating with a weighty push from one hand, it would hit hard enough that the Bloodhound had to keep his bodyweight forward to keep from falling backwards the same way for a second time, giving painful insight into the intricacies of what he was really letting himself in for, though time and the irritating pain would yield nothing in the way of thoughts spared on the matter. And yet, fortunately for Barran's impeded ability to fight properly, the one-eyed Woad would be given something of a grace-period, as the Sith Pureblood had particular thoughts on his opponent's words of which he wanted to give a voice.
'Look at your army, Mawite! The mountains of bodies behind you! You send malnourished slaves in rags against us, against our armour and guns! My launchers tore your lines apart, your soldiers hung on our bayonets like teddy bears! You send your boys into a meat grinder they could never hope to break, into grid coordinates that have been pre-sighted since yesterday! Now you want our worst?!'
Finally able to free his face from the glass, Thomas removed his Brodie-Helm and his gasmask to respond,'If this is all true- well, yes! Absolutely!', looking up to the stormy skies above as he pondered on the Hell they could still unleash at the point of the fight. Bleeding from the brow and the upper part of his left cheek, the next Warlord of the Scar Hounds let the blood run down the outer and inner lobes of his ear as he continued,'For what better way could there be to test armour against faith in this context? Aim at everything, from where I stand right here, right back to the faux-first trenchline - an' fire indiscriminately!', with chin to the sky, and with arms held aloft as if the impending missiles were gods in their own right. An eerie moment, as this was no simple dare, and in seeing the hidden face of the one-eyed Woad, the Sith Pureblood would know it was something more than mere goading also - the Scar Hound had a pointed, barbed lesson to impart on his new rival.
'THE RUNE ON MY CHESTPLATE HAS ME MARKED FOR DEATH ALREADY, MY SOUL IS PREPARED EITHER WAY!!!! For a slave I am as well, Jas! WEARING RAGS AS A SLAVE TO A HIGHER POWER!!!!'
Closing his eye to the world with arms wide open, the Bloodhound would accept whatever fate awaited him, and as for whether Jas would take him up on his offer or not, (or if Jas would use this opening to test Barran's reaction-timing and countering capabilities) Thomas was beyond the point of caring. He was ready for every possible outcome, ready for the consequences that came with the insanity of his choice, but it was in these specific sorts of scenarios where Barrans appeared to shine brightest, a family trait the one-eyed Woad was still completely unaware of. There was much that the Bloodhound was still unaware of, especially in consideration of his mentor, who he was fighting, and lastly - the deathly fate the Mongrel had suffered in his absence.
NEXUS OF THE BLOOD-HOUND: SHRIVEN NO MORE - PART NINETEEN
The Rowan Grove Plateau, Mt. Sintarin, Northern Temple Valley, Tython (Late-Autumn of 876 ABY)
'So what do we now, brothers?'
The confused Tri-Lunars were left where they stood, all standing alone together before they noticed the Entity had vanished, and seemingly shaken by the ease with which she had dematerialised without them noticing. Given contextual, real comparative differences to lose their sense of calm, the powerless trio had all but understood that they had been walking through a dimension much darker than the one they knew and comprehended.
'I haven't the foggiest, Dreamer.... Being perfectly honest, still trying to process the last hour. Never experienced anything like that, and not even on Mar'Zambul either - new territory for everyone who was there to see it.'
A veil between realities it might have been to the Entity, but to the mortals she briefly protected, much and more in the way of suffering; destruction of self and all sense of bonding to the realms on either side, almost as if the spectral deity despised the concept of life and death alike, and had seemingly set herself apart from it all long before she ever met the powerless trio in the shadow of Akar Kesh. The image of frailty, despite the courtesy, did very little to contain the power that emanated from the Entity then, and especially not in her sudden decision to teleport her new acquaintances to the Rowan Grove Plateau. Whatever and whoever this perceived deity was, in all the mystery surrounding her at the time, would rest far from the reaching inquiries of the Tri-Lunars, and before long it would become quite obvious to the powerless ones that they would never live long enough to find out.
'How does one rationalise that to the Firm, to people I've known since childhood? They'd look at me like I was losing it, and dose me for my troubles as soon as I was done talking.... In their shoes, I know I would.'
A notion that both Dreamer and Rook were inclined to agree with, but still a notion they all knew would need bring to their Warlord's attention, regardless of who that might have been by the end of the day. But as for what they would do in their time on Mt. Sintarin, none had the heart to ponder it, none had the right mind to anticipate and plan any next steps, all they could do was wait. Whether it would be a sign from the frontlines, the sight of retreating marauders or goings-on within the crashed star-destroyer, none of it would register loudly enough in their minds to snap the Tri-Lunars out of it.
'Fair, now imagine how difficult its going to be in retelling this to the Bloodhound.... And this is one retelling we can't avoid. Lucky us!'
The former Chancellor was unsure whether her offer would seem at all enticing to the leader of the Crusade. It had amounted to a more tactful presentation, though Adhira did back away from the restriction on ground forces. She had been a Jedi herself, she knew the importance of holy sites like Tython to all practitioners of the Force and she guess the Ashlan Crusade would be no different. She was relieved, as Isla offered her initial response, to discover that she had calculated correctly in her renegotiation of terms. The old woman felt a wave of relief wash over her as the Prime Minister agreed that a centralized point of command would benefit all parties involved. That part was common sense, really, and any savvy head of state would recognize it. That was the easy part.
"I believe I can have 'submit' stricken from the formal decree," she said with a grateful smile, "all signatories will agree to 'temporarily defer' to the Supreme Commander for strategic coordination of troops during the battle." She worked on the spot to rephrase the sticky language that Tithe had presented to the full assemblage. "That language maintains the sovereignty of each signatory while ensuring that a single point of command is adhered to. None of you are submitting to an authority... rather, recognizing the importance of a strategy. Yes. That should do, don't you think?" Adhira had not felt this way in a long time. Her brain was tapping into knowledge and resources that had not been accessed since her time as Chancellor. Suddenly, she was orchestrating another treaty agreement and her muscle memory took over. She could only pray that Aerarii Tithe
as having as much success.
"And it releases all parties from binding language... as you say, when a military combatant has their back against the wall, they are most likely to follow their instincts. Good." Her dark brown eyes twinkled as she looked at the much younger woman. The tragedy of Csilla had weighed heavily on Adhira's heart. She had considered the destruction of the planet a personal failure of hers. A failure to unite the galaxy against a clear and present threat to all of their safety. Perhaps this was her redemption.
The Balmorran was about to suggest that she and her new found ally head back to the meeting chamber and summon the others to discuss the developments they had made when Isla brought a new, more troubling topic. The Ashlan Prime Minister spoke of fleets being moved toward the Alliance's borders with Silver Jedi space, a development that troubled Adhira as much as it would any in her position. She took a moment to process this new information, cautious not to reveal her true emotions. "Former Chancellors of the Galactic Alliance continue to receive routine intelligence briefings long after we leave office -- in the event that we are called upon to assist in times of crisis -- as I am doing now," she began carefully, "however the depth and scope of those briefings is limited. Mostly, we receive updates on diplomatic standing with other factions, major threats, and ongoing war efforts that are not classified to the sitting Chancellor."
"The reigning Chancellor still has the ultimate discretion, though, to limit or increase the amount of information we receive and each former Chancellor chooses how frequently they receive updates. I do not think Emmen Tagge
receives briefings at all anymore except in the most extreme circumstances."
"To speak honestly as an ally, I can say with certainty that this is the first instance I have heard of such troop movements to our borders with the Concord," Adhira was frank in her tone, there was nothing to hide... and if there were she was not aware of it, "still, if what you have just revealed to me is true then that would be a most troubling development. I will make inquiries... but I cannot promise they will be answered."
"In the meantime, perhaps we should return to the summit and share our agreement with our compatriots?"
Siv's knife and disruptor blast were blocked by a shimmering, noncorporeal shield that the attacks harmlessly bounced off of; Sith sorcery, if Siv had to name it. But the shield hadn't been fast enough to counter the whistling birds, or maybe the Sith hadn't been aware of it. A weaker man might've winced at the bloody affair of a half dozen rockets impacting against an unprotected skull, but Siv had been conditioned to such brutality many times over.
And with a spear sticking through his own hand, Siv wasn't exactly feeling pitiful for his opponent.
He stepped back as the Sith fell to the ground, blood pooling from open wounds into the charred soil of Tython. Siv examined the besragr impaled through his hand before pulling it all the way through; immediately, blood poured from it. Biting his lip, he tore a piece of fabric from his cloak and wrapped it tightly around the open wound. His HUD was blaring sensors as if he weren't aware of the gaping hole in his hand; bacta and stim were already being directed towards the wound, but there was little they could do beyond clotting to prevent fatal blood loss. Siv would like to require weeks in bacta and intrusive reconstructive surgery to regain function in his hand.
The injured hunter stored the spear away, clipping it onto his back mount and telescoping the scope into its shortest length as he continued to make space between him and the Sith. Voltura was, simply put, too skilled to beat at melee range. Siv had paid for his overconfidence with the usage of his hand, and if he continued to try and find a weak spot up close that wasn't there, he may very well pay for it with his life.
He observed his target from a comfortable distance, breathing heavily. Blood already stained the tear of cloth he'd wrapped around his hand, but it was slowing as the bacta forced his arteries to clog and flesh to clumsily knit itself. Even stim couldn't remove the stabs of pain, but he'd survive a flesh wound. But suddenly his vision was clouded again, the same feelings of pain, shame, loss, of regret but manifested a thousand times fold, piercing his mind, feelings so palpable that his head screamed with pain and his vision swam.
He fell to one knee.
YOU COULD HAVE SAVED US. The ghosts of his past cried out to him.
YOU DID NOT DESERVE TO SURVIVE. Wraiths danced around his vision. Sweat dripped from Siv's forehead as he knelt upwards, prostrated on both knees in a gesture of what could have been supplication.
YOU ARE NOT WORTHY TO CARRY OUR LEGACY.
"No," he pleaded with the manifested spirits of his answers. His was barely a whimper, ragged. The pain in his mind and the pain in his hand were breaking his ties to reality. His mind was fracturing, and Tython fractured around him. It was all too much to bear.
The pain in his hand. The battle he was fighting. Suddenly as unbidden as the Sith's mental manipulations, thoughts of his new brothers came into his mind; the first stones of the home they had begun to build on the windswept frozen mountains of Kestri. The promise of a new beginning. The promise of a legacy to pass down. A single tear escaped, running down a dirtied cheek.
"No." He pounded his good fist at the ground in futile desperation. "No." He pounded his other. Pain, unbearable pain, immediately shot up through his arm. Blood began to pour once more, drenching the bandage wrapped tightly around the palm, the bacta not enough. "NO." He pounded again, not caring. Not feeling. "NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO." With each cry he pounded again, pain shaking his body. But with each fresh sensation of agony racking through his body, the voices in his head were drowned out a little more. "NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!"
He no longer thought with rational thought. But as he looked up, he saw his enemy clearly. And the hate that coursed through every ounce of his body. . . it raged furiously. Blood drenched his clenched fist, but he could no longer feel the pain. Pressure mysteriously seemed to slowly squeeze his forearms in a vice grip, but he did not care.
All he wished for was death.
The next several seconds seemed to last an eternity. Siv swiftly launched to his feet, first running then flying as his jetpack ignited to carry himself up into the air above his opponent. From his jetpack, a heavy munitions rocket launched. From his vambraces, the last remaining whistling birds. Paralyzing darts. The disruptor pistol. Paired blaster pistols. Knee-pad explosive and malkite-themfar darts. With his good hand, he drew his pistol and fired, unloading with the disruptor-enhanced blaster bolts on the figure. The massive assault would not just be aimed at the Sith directly but at the ground around him, creating a crater of impact around the broken figure.
He was not broken. He was Mandalorian. Bringer of Death.
Stepping aside from the others, Thurion Heavenshield
hooked his arm with Romi's as they strolled.
He stopped and turned to her, taking her lithe hands in his, large and coarse as they were. A carpenter's hands.
A warm smile, albeit brief.
"Hope always endures, Romi. It can endure anything, weather any storm thrown its way. Standing in your presence here today, gives this old man hope. Bless you, my child."
---------
Spurts of water nipped at her back, the air grew cooler as the moisture in the air increased; she didn't need to turn around to know that the beast of nature was coming for them. She'd lost balance at some point when the force of the water knocked in the back of her knees -- she'd been detached from Jace in the motion.
"Go on without me!" He answered the offer of aid, "I can't outrun this." Jace slowed to a halt and said with a sadness in his voice, a soft smile and a sorriness to his eyes, even as the war echoed on all around them.
"No!" She clawed her way to her feet, and went to lift his frame over hers, tucking her shoulder into his armpit, "I'm not leaving you. I just got you back."
Errugh!
She pulled him up and provided the support necessary to start inching their way. But, in the back of her mind she knew -- it was closer than ever by this point. She'd stopped, and all she could hear was her own heavy breathing and the cries of those around them. A force of nature was approaching; a massive wave.
Those few seconds of the darkest shadows encroaching over them felt like hours -- mentally she was preparing herself to be swallowed up. The moment she shut her eyes, and reopened them she realized it hadn't happened yet.
"Go, Romi," he simply told her, eyeing the pair. A quick glance informed him of Jace's injury, giving him an idea of how long they would need. "You two get out of here! I'll hold it off for as long as I can!" There was a hint of desperation in his voice, for there was little time for debating. In his eyes, Romi Jade represented the hope for a reunited Jedi Order. Whereas Thurion Heavenshield belonged to a past that was long gone.
"Thurion?" entirely perplexed, she tried to scream over the rush "Thurio-What're you doing?! You can't-" Though much as the presence of the Lion was, his pleading stole all argument; she had never heard such emotion in his voice before.
Her hand in his, and the kiss solidified the notion that she could not prevent him from doing this. "I-"Eheuh
She had been having a reoccurring dream of being engulfed in darkness....suffocating...and being drenched. These dreams haunted her leading up to Tython, so much so that it seemed to affect her connection to the Force; more so it kept her mind in an awoken state that she become depleted of anything else.
To her, she thought this was going to be her end...that she would be the one swallowed up. Though it seemed as if her dream was about Thurion, and this pivotal moment here.
It didn't feel good at all. She gained back and lost someone....
She had heard through their meld, which she could feel more deeply again -- "Val, we could use some evacuating here."
The Quartermaster sat kneeling in the suite that had been provided within the palace. Like everything in Naboo, it was austere but cold. There was no warmth to the finely polished stone, no hint of personality. All austerity, but at the price of personality. Markedly different from Mandalorian architectural habits, but the Quartermaster was not here to critique construction methods.
She was alone within the chamber, but for one of her Si'kayha guards posted at the interior doorway. His brother was on the other side of the doorway, acting as a screen for any who wished to enter. They were silent pillars of protection, instructed to see and observe all so that not a single drop of poison could touch their revered leader, but what was not critical to their mission imperative was also instructed to be forgotten. Thus, although she was not truly alone, the Quartermaster could find peace in what semblance of isolation she could find here.
The screen door had been opened to let in the cool air wafting in from the outside veranda as night fell on Naboo. Avian creatures fluttered over the lakes as lanterns began to be lit throughout the city, casting brilliant orange reflections on the water and stone archways. They also illuminated the cracks and craters, parting gifts from Naboo's old masters before they had fled into wild space. But even the people here could rebuild, and that was testament enough that the Quartermaster's own purpose was not futile.
The soft, muted static of comm chatter from the commando guard interrupted the Quartermaster's meditation, and after a brief moment, her Si'kayha protector spoke. "The Chancellor," he proclaimed matter-of-factly, not saying any more than what was necessary.
The Quartermaster nodded slowly, remaining in her knelt position facing the open veranda. "Enter," she called loud enough that Tithe would hear through the closed door, and with her bidding entry, the Si'kayha opened the ornate door to allow the Chancellor inside.
The lightning did its job well enough, catching the Juror off guard as crimson plasma arced across the gap. Though the brunt of the attack had been limited by the Jedi's reaction, the pain would still be remembered enough. Syphus cackled as he watched the man struggle, though he knew that it would be but a fleeting moment. Nevertheless, he reveled in what pain he could force upon this would-be hero, hoping for it to be but the beginning of a long and painful death for his opponent.
He wouldn't get the chance, as Jeren had managed to regain his footing in the wake of the attack. Several rocks came flying toward Syphus, a proper retaliation to the previous exchange of plasma. Syphus dodged the first couple of stones with little issue, as his reflexes were still strong within the chaos of the ritual that had become unraveled upon the planet. He almost thought he would avoid the attack completely, but Solipsis' broken reality had other plans...
Several of the rocks began to warp, breaking apart and changing form into tiny shards of glass, and though Syphus could get away from many, he could not avoid them all. Bits of transformed stone slashed at his body, and within the pain, he found himself struck in awe at the pain and destruction wrought by the Dark Voice. He almost couldn't believe the sight of the beautiful pandemonium, and in the chaos, he lost his concentration as he screeched in pain.
"This is the future! This is what awaits you all! You wil-"
His words were cut off by the sudden follow-up to the attack, his opponent closing the gap and unleashing a flurry of attacks as he pushed the Sith several steps back. Syphus quickly found himself on the back foot once again, his prey refusing to relent as their fight went on. As their blades continued to crash, Syphus began to reach out to his surroundings, drawing what he could from the darkness around him. With all of his strength, he launched himself into the air, landing upon a large boulder as he looked down to the Juror.
"It... will... all... end..."
He called upon the pain he suffered from his sliced and punctured flesh, laughing all the while as he looked into the skies above.
"ALL END ALL END ALL END ALL END!!!!!"
His hand reached forth as he continued his mad ramblings, and as he twisted and contorted his hand, the ground beneath Jeren began to crack and crumble. The objective was quite clear...
Syphus wished to further warp the ground beneath the man's feet, perhaps enough to swallow him whole, lost to the planet he so desperately sought to defend.
Mercy saves Kallan and The Mongrel from the ritual markings
Somewhere
He shouldn't be anymore.
It all ought to be finished now.
But it wasn't over. Not quite. Not yet.
Kallan opened his eyes. He still lay in the meadow where he had spent so many blissful hours... and now, where he had watched his wife die. She was still gone; he could see the place where she had lain in the grass, the crushed wildflowers and bloodied ground her torso had left behind while he cradled her head in his lap, but there was no other sign she had ever been there at all. The sun still shone down on him, and a gentle breeze still shook the trees, and the birds still sang, as if the world - his world - hadn't just come to an end.
His wife was gone...
... but he wasn't alone in the meadow.
Staring at him across the peaceful glade, eyes wide with shock, was The Mongrel. Yes, eyes. He was no cybernetic hulk here, nor was he quite back to handsome Asher, the body that Kallan remembered - and wore in his dreams. The Mongrel was him after the first round of the Maw's tortures, his face and scalp burned, his skin blistered and scarred. As Kallan watched, blood red runes marked across his mutilated body began to flare white. The bright blue sky opened, revealing a crimson hand that descended toward the warlord.
The Mongrel stared up at it, resolute.
"I'm sorry I dragged us into this, Kallan."
He was talking to himself. His better, kinder self.
"I wish... I wish that I had kept being you. I've always told myself that I had no choice, that I couldn't escape what the Maw made me, but here at the end... I'm not sure that was true. I could have walked away. I should have walked away. For her, for myself, for the galaxy. But I was weak and frightened. I wanted so badly for all the terrible things I had done to be worth it that I kept doing them." Kallan offered him a bleak smile. "Sunk cost fallacy," he replied. "We learned about it in school."
The Mongrel, Asher, matched his expression. "Yes, we did. I should have listened better. To Ms. Gridlee, way back then. To you, always at the back of my mind. And to Mercy most of all." The shadowy hand wrapped itself around him, so tight and cold that he gasped in pain, and began to pull him up into that breach in the meadow's sky. "I don't think I believe in paradise anymore, Kallan," Asher told his other self. "I think I bought into the lie, and then lied to myself, because it was easier than accepting the truth."
"I don't know what's going to happen to us..."
"... but I'm sorry." It was all he could say.
Then, all at once, the meadow shook. A strange wind blew through it, shaking not just the branches but the trees, making the ground itself ripple like water. It was teal and purple and utterly otherworldly, the Netherworld power of an Omni-Drone unleashed to alter reality itself. It burst through the shadowy hand, and Asher dropped from the sky, slamming back into the meadow. The white-hot runes on his body faded back to red, then crumbled like peeling paint, blowing away as nothing more than dust on the wind.
Back on the ground, The Mongrel lay silent and unmoving. Already his body was turning translucent, just like what had happened to Kallan's wife. He was being called away to whatever awaited the dead, the electrical pattern of his consciousness scattering, his soul - if indeed such a thing applied to those who could not touch the Force - departing his ruined body. Had he even realized that he'd been freed, ripped away from an evil fate as fuel for the Dark Voice's reality-destroying ritual? If so, it had been his very last thought.
Kallan held his hands up in front of him, and he saw that they, too, were turning translucent. He had only lingered this long because of his presence in a shared mental space, the bond between Mongrel and Mercy becoming his safe haven. But now the mental energy, the patterns of consciousness, had been severed from one side. He could not stay here for much longer... and that was alright. There had been too much pain, too much suffering. The galaxy had been cruel to him, and he was weary of it. He was ready for peace.
~ Asher, my love! Do you hear me ?! Please… please, I beseech you, be alive, be alive! ~ The voice echoed down to the meadow, distant and distorted, as though he were hearing it underwater. Part of him did not want to respond, wanted to just slip beneath the silent surface of oblivion and let everything finally end. But that was selfish. He was not the only one who had suffered. ~ Asher is... I think Asher is gone, ~ Kallan said, hoping his words would somehow carry. ~ I'm sorry. So is he. He loved you to the very end. ~
“If you live life on your own terms it shouldn't feel like a jail cell. ."- Shannon Alder
It was still dark, terribly dark. His mind was clear because he was not aware of anything, he heard nothing, he saw pitch darkness. The problem is, he was unconscious but his mind was wide awake and slowly light same into his mind, no, his eyes were not open, his mind. Slowly Caltin’s mind opened up to a light shining on him with several silhouettes standing in the way. They were faceless, almost without form, all facing him… or back to him… he could not tell it did not mean a thing at this point.
“You have done well… you are progressing.”
What is the meaning of this?
“You know who we are. We have been watching.”
What does that mean?
“We have watched you and your exploits.”
… since I last left you.
Throughout your time with the Force.
You've never told me this before. Still not sure of who he was talking to, Caltin phished for more information.
“We watch everything.”
“ Everything?”
“Everything that has happened, from the days of the Rakata Empire… to the…”
Wait… so you mean… “everything”...
“Yes, You have been a remarkable feat of engineering…”
“Engineering?”
“Yes, when we began to engineer your little problem…”
“Little problem?” I am a human being.
“Yes, and you came to us with a problem and we fixed you, just like we fix the problems of others who come to us. We cannot fix the problems of all, where is the line that must be drawn?”
How many “others?”
“Impossible to say as we keep ourselves nearly impossible to find.”
I found you… He figured out who they were, vassals from The Wellspring of Life.
“Yes… and so have others… and we fix you… otherwise, we watch…”
Watch what?
“The passage of time, from the beginning… we watch… and act….”
Even in this “ether”, he scoffed.
“Act?” So curing my issue was what you call “acting?”
“We act when it serves the interests of the galaxy.”
Humor me. Nothing specific…
“Events with Galactic implications…”
What was the Annihilation of Csilla? What is happening on Tython? The Netherworld?”
“A minor…”
“MINOR?” THE DEATHS OF MILLIONS!
“Please remain calm…”
What about what happened down on Tython?
“This is a setback to be sure…”
“SETBACK?”
“This will go a lot more smoothly, I assure you if you lower your voice.”
It’s all shite… isn’t it. You don’t care, you don’t act. You just sit back and watch and wait. You don’t do a damn thing…
“Your aggressive behavior, your emotions…”
What? They could lead me to the Dark Side? Are you kidding me? Can one of you stop and think about anything but your mistakes? No, you just sit back and watch.
“Your emotions will not help you in this conversation. We operate on a higher plane than petty squabbles over childlike idealism.”
My emotions? You could have acted, could have cleaned up our mess, or at the very least warned us what could have happened, but no, you sat back and watched. Forget the fact that a Force Nexus could have been destroyed. Forget what it would have done to the galaxy, both emotionally and spacially. Forget that…
“Our work…”
“Your WORK?” Are you kidding me? Is that all we are? “Test subjects…” you just play lives like this? Do we mean so little to you?
“The Galaxy will survive…”
Yes, “The Galaxy will survive…” you sound so much like you are muttering some kind of code it is insane. I am so tired of this. I am so tired of hearing about the bigger picture… what about the picture that is in front of them? Does that matter?
“Your tone is perilous. Why do you suddenly show concern? You have a history, especially now of lackadaisical and aloof mannerisms toward the very Jedi you represent. You were notorious for having a low rate of Learners being Knighted. This was before you were lost for a short time. Why the concern now?”
My tone is that of someone tired of seeing Jedi lose their Padawans, Masters, and close ones minutes apart. My tone is someone tired of seeing the galaxy is torn apart and people do nothing about it. My tone is that of someone who is going to stand aside even less than he already does. Was I hard on them? Yes. I was and this is because I tested their commitment. This means something to me, not just a cool way to fill my bed or exciting life. I would not make apologies for that and I will not now. That is who I am.
“You still need rest, young one, you are not thinking clearly. If you do not calm down and speak to us in a calm manner..”
Why? What? Are you going to take my abilities away? Go ahead. I’ve been wanting a “normal” life for a long time now… in fact, please do take them… then I don’t have to be fighting all the time. It’s all we do is fight. It goes to my previous point. I see many of the “Jedi” of today with that same problem, but I see more with the look of wanting to be more than they are. That is why I remain where I am and so many more of us do. I’ve had more than my chance to disappear, we all have, and yet myself… the Cotan’s of the galaxy… the Ryv’s of the galaxy… the Auteme’s… the Starchasers… the Rigels… the Thio’s… the Jedi… we are still standing, and as cheesy as this may sound… as long as there are those who hold down those who can’t stand… we always will be. Now either do something to help, take our abilities…
… or stay the hell out of our way.
Slowly his eyes opened to the huge mechanical figure standing over him that was his “assistant droid” HK-88. The ship was on the hangar deck of the Galactic Alliance Flagship “The Prosperity.” Sitting up, he could feel something out there was wrong, and went to get up. That wasn’t happening, the big man was still weak, he would soon regain his strength but not right there. He did not know why, but the big man told HK that they needed to go back down to the planet and to do so now. They needed to fly low over the Flooded plain and Kaleth ruins.
While HK did make their way back to the cockpit, do not mistake his following a directive for blind obedience, the droid did make sure to mutter something about “meatbags with deathwishes.” Soon enough the ship was lifting off and he could feel the change in cabin pressure, the artificial gravity taking no longer tugging on the vessel as it returned to open space. One thing about HK is when “he” is following an order that “he” does not want to, there is a definite feeling of urgency.
The viewport lit up with bolts of light bouncing across the night sky until they entered the upper and then lower atmosphere. The green light meant that it was safe to open the loading ramp during the flight. “The Spectre’s” cargo bay was in the aft section and thus the ramp as well so lowering during the flight was not an issue. It was not hard to find Coren Starchaser
once they were over the ruins of Kaleth, the crazy wayseeker folded space and hopped aboard. The others, such as Justice Lesan
were boarding as well. Several Marine Transports were taking others aboard their ships as well, no one was getting left behind.
Romi Jade
and Jace Khel were more difficult to find, they were getting to higher ground and it looked to be finally settled in a spot for pickup. This was enough for the big man to hang onto the ramp as he looked over the side. HK was a droid so there was no concern over any nervous behavior, they were in good hands, it was a matter of getting the Jedi up onto the loading dock. They were too late as the two were already loading into @Valery Noble’s ship… he could joke about always being a “day late and a credit short” or how Val always seemed to have a market cornered on things, but he chuckled to himself about it as they flew off for the last pickup.
C A V A L I E R NEW IMPERIAL ORDER TYTHON | KALETH Danika Leventis ALLIES | NIO ENEMIES | EVERYONE TEMPLAR There he stood at the top of stairs that descended towards the Necromancer in his sights. She was not alone, she had her own goons to accomplish whatever tasks given to them by her. He...
Lady Eina L'lerim-Vandiir The First and the Light of Ashla Heiress and Princess of the Eternal Empire and Terraris; Angelic Mascot and Representative of the Ashlan Crusade; Living Saint of Ashla Eternal Empire's Ambassador to the Ashlan Crusade; Matriarch of the Valkyrja; Leader of Sanctuary and...
The End of an Era "Are you afraid?" Darkness enveloped the kiffar's every sense. He could feel the cosmos around him like a cool breeze. Little blips of light appeared within that infinite darkness. Cerulean sapphire, verdant emerald, and bloody ruby light took shape in the form of tiny stars...
And they were off, headed through the valley. Shadows of meteorites fell across them, blocking out the sun as Ashla fell to earth in pieces. Kai’s danger sense warned him just in time to dodge one particularly large chunk, though it blasted him upward upon impact with the ground. He landed on...
Accessing Uriel Unit Command Matrix: Location: Deep in the Temple Ruins Allies: The Maw, New Sith Order Enemies: Team Lightside and Allies. Direct Enemy: Alessandra Io Online. Processing Damage to Primary Core. Uriel's Body hadn't moved much, hanging there as it processed new inputs. Systems...
Accessing Uriel Unit Command Matrix: Location: Deep in the Temple Ruins Allies: The Maw, New Sith Order Enemies: Team Lightside and Allies. Direct Enemy: Alessandra Io Online. Processing Damage to Primary Core. Uriel's Body hadn't moved much, hanging there as it processed new inputs. Systems...
Location: Ruins of the Jedi Temple - Tython Objective: Save a Sister Dialogue Legend: │ “Verbal” Direct Engagement: Project Uriel 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...
“Evil is powerless if the good are unafraid” ”- Ronald Reagan [SIDE NOTE- Any communication inside of this style of brackets is to be looked on as COMMS traffic] I’m still here. Offering a “forearm bump”, much like a “fist bump” or a handshake, the massive Jedi Master that is Caltin Vanagor...
“Evil is powerless if the good are unafraid” ”- Ronald Reagan [SIDE NOTE- Any communication inside of this style of brackets is to be looked on as COMMS traffic] I’m still here. Offering a “forearm bump”, much like a “fist bump” or a handshake, the massive Jedi Master that is Caltin Vanagor...
Breathe, child. She inhaled sharply. The feeling like sucking in broken glass. Just breathe. The pain didn't matter. It was all she could do to stay alive. See? All better. There was nothing to see. She was entombed in darkness. The monsters can't hurt you anymore. Consciousness failed...
1st Dunwall Irregulars (The Devils of Dunwall) Tags: Bex Tarring, Erskine Barran, Julian Qar, Tulan Kor, Aerys Myrrine Club Foot The advance began, and the DI pushed with the others, moving their way toward the enemy as they readied themselves for the inevitable violence before them. Tyrell...
7th post OPERATION: SHATTERPOINT THE ANNIHILATION OF TYTHON Objective 1: ATTACK EVERYTHING!!!! Thomas Barran "The Bloodhound" ANOINTED ACOLYTE OF THE SCAR HOUNDS Allies (BOTM/NSO): Darth Solipsis The Mongrel Ziare Dyarron Shai Krayt Ardana Vorco Erion Justeene Darth Saevius Ronar Scylla...
Moving West of Akar Kesh Tag: Open What was Tython's pain and misery, what was its fate, that is what shaped the Shade, Fed it and gave it a malformed identity. Shadow rolled across its form, shifting, swirling, an unsettling sight for those who gazed upon it. Moving out from the bunker, the...
Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Archon of the Primyn Group Empress of Terraris, Supreme Commander of the Terraris Command, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium Objective: Try to...
Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Archon of the Primyn Group Empress of Terraris, Supreme Commander of the Terraris Command, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium Objective: Try to...
Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Archon of the Primyn Group Empress of Terraris, Supreme Commander of the Terraris Command, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium Objective: Try to...
Location: Jedi Temple - Tython Objective: Engage Silas the Jedi Equipment: Lightsaber, Voidsaber, SHT-26 "Bedevil" Heavy War Bike Allies: BOTM Enemies: GA Engaging: Silas Westgard The exhaustion went both ways, the sheer resilience of the Jedi took Superious by surprise. Of all the fights he...
HOPE All Roads Lead To Tython, Part. II Location: Kaleth Temple, Tython Timeline: Four days before the invasion Tags: Closed “Take a deep breath, Cailen,” Master Undara said as he placed a hand on his Padawan’s shoulder. The boy inhaled deeply, taking in the cool morning air, then exhaled...
HOPE All Roads Lead To Tython, Part. II Location: Kaleth Temple, Tython Timeline: Four days before the invasion Tags: Closed “Take a deep breath, Cailen,” Master Undara said as he placed a hand on his Padawan’s shoulder. The boy inhaled deeply, taking in the cool morning air, then exhaled...
HOPE All Roads Lead To Tython, Part. II Location: Kaleth Temple, Tython Timeline: Four days before the invasion Tags: Closed “Take a deep breath, Cailen,” Master Undara said as he placed a hand on his Padawan’s shoulder. The boy inhaled deeply, taking in the cool morning air, then exhaled...
fa-play fa-pause Enemies: Iris Arani She could hear them. The voices of the Jedi, both fallen and living. They called to her and even in the pit she now found herself in as black as it was she could see the light. Thalia Senn placed a hand against the cold surface of her prison and as...
Location: Space between MAW and GA ships Current situation: Floating Faith was ready to leave the ship she thought she was all alone now that everyone had gone. Just then the face of the LT appeared he smiled, she nodded back. She should have known that he would have stayed to make sure she was...
www.starwarsrp.net
~ Present, Tython | Asher and Mercy (and Barran) ~
I was cold, shaking in the cold; in the distance, above the place where the ritual was going, I saw the clouds disappear and the sun was shining. But we were so far away that the blizzard was still raging here, just as reality was still twisted. I didn't hear any voices, after Asher, I tried to address Ziare, Freedom, or just Keilara, but I didn't get a response. Everything was quiet, silent, and I felt alone. All alone. This has not happened for years.
While sobbing, I curled in an embryo pose, holding the severed skull with one hand gently to myself, holding the hand of Asher's body gently with the other. But it was much harder to watch and exist outside, not just because of the sobs or because my whole eyes were swimming in blood. At home, I was still kneeling in the door of the bedroom and living room in our minds, in our home with Asher. I have not got an answer yet. New wounds were opened on my body here, my soul. Not only my chest but also my heart was bleeding and blood was dripping from my nose.
And then I heard his voice. Hope rose in me for a moment, relieved, but after that the pain shattered me even more and caused even greater wounds. It's the same voice, but it wasn't him, it was Kallan. But he lived, this means...
~ No… no! Common consciousness, common brain, you are him and he is you, no matter how you hate this… if you are here, even he is. I don't know how much time both of you have, but I have to find him, I have to find him, Kallan… ~ I told him. ~ I want to save both of you. ~
For a moment I felt a strong urge to cross the meadow and tell him what I wanted to show him… Keilara wanted to show him. I groaned in pain as I saw myself dying in his arms. I wanted to save him, Kallan, but also Asher. Where… where does a consciousness go before death and before it shatters? Think, Mercy, think! Its subconscious darkness. I have to bring him back before it's too late, then… then…
For now, the present. I tried to get up from the ground, it was hard, but despite my injuries, I moved here easier than in reality. I moved on to the other part of my mind, the darkness. There were also two empty but intertwined cages. Where once I have been and Kallan too… me? Ziare. Ziare and Kallan when he was in pieces. I looked down into the darkness, I felt Kallan and him now, but not the others. But no, I didn't have time to deal with that. I jumped into the abyss without any hesitation…
It was like when the protagonist jumps off a rock in the holomovies into the sea to save the other he loves. It also felt like the "sea" was blocking my progress. I didn't fall, it was like swimming. Deeper and deeper towards the passing, the oblivion. There was more and more peace, calm, what I felt, the tranquillity was promised. NO! I couldn't let it end that way. We’ve fought all our lives, this is the last fight, not what he fought with Barran, this. After that, we leave the war behind and no longer have to fight. Not because we die, but because we start our new life…
I finally saw him, I continued to "swim" in the ocean of our common consciousness, deeper and deeper until I saw and then reached him. At first I only managed to reach and touch his fingers, then as I swam down I finally got to weave my fingers between his and then embrace him and hold him tight to me with my other hand. In movies like this, the protagonist even kisses the girl, but we weren’t heroes and I was the girl, not him. I concentrated heavily and then took him back to their common home.
I could see and felt how weak it was to be barely visible. I laid him down gently on the ground, to one of the soft carpets and held his face in my hands. I looked down at him crying, my tears started to become blood too, like in reality. I couldn’t rest, I could not live with the thought that, if they were to die because of me. Because I am unable to protect them, to save them. Because I'm good for nothing.
~ Asher, please stay with me, stay with me. Fight! You survive everything! You'll survive this too, we have to get out of here together. We have to finish the movie too, together! Fight a little more, please, my love! ~ I beseeched.
But I knew I could only do one, but it had never worked before. I wasn't ready yet, it took a few more weeks! It took a few trying before that so that neither personality could hear me, so as not to cause injury or pain. But I didn't have time, we didn't have time! It was some cruel joke from fate.
~ Kallan, Asher… I have to try to take you apart. I can't "save" you into my head at once. The two personalities are too many. I can’t tell who will be the first, I can’t set up a sequence in this state. It will hurt, you may die. But I have no other solution. I don't know how I could save you any other way. I don’t want to hurt you or cause you pain, but I don’t know what else I could do. I just can't watch you die without me trying everything… ~ my voice trailed off as I sobbed again.
Location: Tython near the ruins of Master’s Retreat
Enemies: Jedi, Imperials, Anyone
Allies: Maw
Objective: Embrace the Wound
Pain and death was all around him, in his mind he could feel voices cry out. The voices became so intense in his head, he tried in some vain attempt to block it all out, by covering his ears. The ground roared, rumbled and shook continuously. Looking around, he was surrounded by openings in the ground, the volcanoes in the distance violently erupting still. It seemed that the Ren was trapped on the decaying ground, pain gripped hold of his entire being and since his tumble off the cliff he felt something new take hold.
His hunger bordered on gluttony. Once a hunger driven by bloodlust, and need for sustenance, now it has been changed, morphed as the dark energy started to shift and change within him. The Kyber crystals shined brightly, with each heavy step he took the droppings of charred burned flesh revealed the extent of the damage. Muscle tissue soon followed and what it looked like was melted bits of cloth and metal against kyber bones.
Looking towards Akar Kesh, and up towards the sky he felt something coming. Something that had made him tremble to the core, what bits of flesh on him started to twitch. It was as if the dark side was changing him, the destruction all around him was wrapping itself around him. Even in the darkest abyss of the shadow, he felt his inside move and twist. With the abnormal movements of his insides, the dark side forced him to his knees once more. His hands digging into the ground, feeling more tissue collapse to a bigger extent. The black fluid started to seep out of every opening it could find.
The Sith blade Kahlil wielded had a two fold effect. Not only did it attempt to keep him in this state, it altered him. Now the dark side struck back with the intensity of a dying world. The convulsions started agains, writhing on the ground. “N-No! It’s too much!” He said lashing out at the destruction raining around him. The cries of the helpless, of those to fade into the Force amplified his hunger causing it to have an unintended consequence of its own.
Gripping more of the ground, he tried to regain his footing. Absorbing more of the life force he could find slowly, the hunger was temporarily sated, the vibrant green took a turn for the worse as it became as black as the sky. With his insides twisted, he could feel a hole start to form within itself. His organs started to morph until it was consumed by the hole forming within him. His bones started to crack and break under the pressure of the metamorphosis, unable to control the dark energy the monster continued to stumble forward. His hunger run rampant, he wandered towards more of the darkness coming from the ritual. “More! Feed me more!” He said hoping to sate what was inside of him. Pieces continued to fall until he appeared to be a walking shamble. His body at the mercy of the apocalypse, would soon change to a different kind of hell.
ALLIES: BOTM | NSO | Whoever else - I ain't tagging y'all
ENEMIES: GA | NJO | NIO | AC | Enclave | EE | The whole shebang
ENGAGING: Simon Meinrad
GEAR: In bio
It was like a wall you were leaning against giving way all of a sudden. The sword flew from her grip and she unceremoniously and ungraciously crashed to the ground not having been able to get her balance with the sudden loss of a prop.
In an equal ungraceful move, an armoured fist was swung straight toward her face. Danika barely had time to just roll her body in such a way that the blow missed her face by a hair's breadth and smashed into her collarbone instead where the armour barely covered her.
A numbing, jarring kind of pain shot through her arm and had her teeth slamming against one another. What else did this bastard want to break or crack? She would have to spend some quality time with bacta and other grand stuff to get her knee and arm fully functional again.
He would damn will pay for it.
In the meteor-torn, sweat-drenched dirt, both Force Masters were nearly prone as they faced one another in their wounded and ungraceful states as Danika's own right fist came swinging back at him to try and flatten his nose against his face. It was all she could do in her pitiful state as one arm and leg were just completely out of commission.
Had it not been for the blood and sweat drenching the ground, it would have looked quite comical to an unsuspecting observer as the two hardened warriors flung cheap, dirty shots at one another like children while lightsabers and the Force was forgotten. But to them it was just exhaustion and pain throwing honour and eloquence unceremoniously out of the window.
In that light, she would pull back that hand again to go for nothing other than to try and yank at his ear. But most of her ferocity and fight was lacking, exhaustion catching up with her at a heightened pace.
How either could succeed in killing each other in their current states was anybody's guess.
Exhaustion might claim their consciousness before then.
The Shared Fates of Warriors Sunders The Shatterpoint of Laoth And Calls The Mistress Void
The Darkshear was a power very few could understand due to its rarity of casting, and for those who did conjure it, it was even more arcane and archaic. It was a force of bygone quintessences of the Darkness that broiled in the hearts of all living things. A summoning of pure energy designed to maim and kill. That is what the histories called it. Yet, it bore a secret unknown to all but those with the luck of encountering it, for it was not mastery that unlocked the true depths of the Spear. Most who summoned the Spear of Blackest Night killed their foes or injured them to the point of no hope for survival. But for those who did not kill their foes immediately or quickly thereafter, it seemingly bore the effect - blessings for some, curses for others - of tethering caster and surviving victim. And even then, those who saw this effect in work knew nothing of it. Why it was, how it was, or what it was.
And so Laoth, a mere emotional adept of the power, was within the realm of not understanding this effect and merely drawing conclusions based on what little evidence there was that his brain could comprehend.
The tethering of his and Ishida's souls.
He once thought that this was the workings of Devaronian instincts and the desire to kill her and fix the mistake he had made in letting her escape and live twice over. But now, locked in the embrace of swords and enshrouded in pure chaos, he had come to understand, or more accurately to the scholars of history believe that this tethering of theirs was in fact the workings of some more extraordinary fate the Darkness had in store for them. The weavings of a tapestry he had not perceived before in life or entombment.
Perhaps, he thought as sparks flew between their faces, it was meant to be this way. Indeed, why now would he have this sudden surge of revelation during combat when his sensibilities, historically, were hindered by the lust for blood? Why now would he suddenly force this monologue of passion through his mouth? Indeed, it would seem now that Ishida was never meant to be killed by him. For the Devaronian, this Darkshear - a power of undiluted malice that created the wound that blistered in his presence - had to have been, in truth, a-
He barely had time to react before his synapses fired off shots of panic and discord. His illusionary hands of flesh tightened around the hilt of his blade, and his eyes thrummed with the increased intensity of flawless awareness toward the rising pain in his head.
Ishida spoke defiance and let the cynical hate drip from her tongue like a snake's venom. The calm, serene words that had pushed him unknowingly into this path fell silent, each nonexistent syllable stabbing his brain yet drawing no attention. His body quaked as the pressure of a telekinetic origin brewed in each limb and rushed upward in river motions to his arms. His biceps of illusionary flesh and truthful metal bulged and bent and rippled as he shifted his stance from an offensive nature to a defensive bulwark. Simply trying to maintain his balance despite the shocking disparity of height between the two. His feet dug into the stone beneath him, carving into earth boiling with colors and fantastical newly shaped slopes. A long extended grunt of effort escaped his throat that melted away from the illusions of flesh to the horrific reality of his cybernetics. His head ached in the places where his horns once protruded, and vestigial circles formed as the Shatterpoint between him and Ishida Ashina raged into the broken existence.
Shatterpoint. A power that snapped the weaknesses of its target. A power that, in the hands of Ishida Ashina, had the same effect as Laoth's Darkshear, but far more...intense. Easier to understand.
Black blood and mechanical oil began to weep from the spaces where Laoth's horns had once been, the remaining flesh peeling away to reveal the re-threaded musculature and bone underneath. The slits where his nose had once been begun to gush with blood and other fluids necessary to keep him moving. He roared in agony, yet kept what stance he could as his eyes - burning so brightly with amethyst purple and shedding bloody tears - glared upon his foe who could not have so defiantly denied his request of joining him. The voice around him, the same one that beseeched him to do this, screamed with tears in imperceivable eyes as fear overtook its tonal shifts.
Laoth's sword shattered into a million literal pieces, none of them touching the earth he had carved so grievously with his feet. Instead, each piece launched itself after him as he was blown back into the mountainside that burbled like paint from the impact. Every ounce of the illusion of flesh vanished and pieces of force-imbued metal dented, pierced, and sliced his body in minute centimeters and inches. He attempted to recover immediately, his rage from the denial so great and terrible that the pain of it all turned into adrenaline. He was merely shoved back once more as Ishida again denied him. Further, into the stone, he went, crunching under the weight of rock and reality as telekinetic might pushed and buried him into the mountain of Akar Kesh.
“How would it work. Who would we conquer, Laoth? All I have seen you hurt and kill are my allies. You use darkness to murder. I can never be a part of that.”
Laoth grimaced with fleshless lips as stones and boulders created from the attacks crumbled down onto his body. He could not move a single limb without furthering his burial and a scream of glorious wrath erupted like the volcanic core of Tython. Still, he shifted and wormed under the rock, trying in vain to escape as old thoughts rose from the grave of his mind. Such stupidity said the man from Jedha. Such ignorance said the man from Selvaris. Such arrogance said the man from the prison. How could he have...why did he...no...no.
"Naith'a...do not quit. Do not give up. Do not let yourself fail."
He was right said the man from Akar Kesh. Said the voice muffled from the rocks.
Defiance could be broken. Wills could be shattered like his sword. And Ishida...
Ishida could still be brought to his side. Her power would enable him to...
"Naith'a...please...come home."
A flash of imagery broke into the dark void of his vision and for the first time in a very long time, Laoth felt a morsel of calm. Before him, in a second, stretched the green expanses of Devaron that Sen wished for him to see again. Its great jungles and vines so deeply rich and embedded that no ax had ever cut them. No sunlight had ever breached the canopies. And no explorer had ever disturbed with trodding feet. The sun burned brightly above and rain clouds peppered the cities and the fields with droplets of crystal clear rain.
"Fight, and I'll see you again. I want to know if Devaron still looks like this too."
A minute passed in silence as the words soaked into the fibers of his core. Then, he saw her face and Laoth roared again. From his fingers and his legs and arms and his chest, he cascaded outward with the Force of a broken reality. Rock and stone and the earth burst from around him in an orb of destruction and left a crater in the side of Akar Kesh. Ishida was hit by none of the debris, each chunk of it carefully landing away from her position, leaving her unmarred. She watched with defiant eyes laced with shock as Laoth rose to his feet and whirred with motions - fixing the brokenness of his limbs. His interface crackled with static as it too was repaired by the alchemies of his body and produced a new option in place of his missing weapons. Activate Arm Blades.
Laoth cracked his neck and sighed as he lifted his arms into an X across his chest. There was a shock of electric jolts from the pistons under the plating of his forearms, and he shot both arms down to his sides. Two blades of gleaming untarnished metal extended with horrid speed and fashion, the lightning above flashing like camera bulbs. He began to walk forward, stepping with the deft motions of a ballerina.
"You can defy me as much as you wish, Ishida," he hissed. "You can injure me as much as you wish. But you know, deep down, that I am right. And no matter what you throw at me or say, I know that I am right. Since Jedha, I knew. Since Selvaris, I knew. I just never saw it. Not until now, when the veils have been shredded. You have so much potential as a warrior unbound from the Jedi. By my side, you would be unstoppable and could accomplish anything you set your mind to. Look at what you just accomplished against me. Imagine the power you could rise to if you joined me."
He fell as he looked past his foe and desired ally, his eyes honing in on the swirling colors of chaos beyond the ledge of their cliff. In the center, close and far, he saw a shape take form. A shape of fair skin, dark hair, and a shroud of blue and black.
"Sen..." he whispered in a daze, eyes locked with the ethereal form of his closest family who offered the smallest of smiles before dissipating into the twisting forms of pigment and unreality.
His eyes darkened into barbarous mirth as he looked back at Ishida. "I want to go home. I want to see my family again. I want my people to rule the Galaxy again."
He took a step closer to his foe and his voice dropped into a barely audible crackle of embers, his eyes now so colorless they were merely black voids in eye sockets, "I want you to know the true scope of your power. I do not know why I want this...but you remaining among the living...you by my side...will mean more than you dying this day or a day after."
He skimmed upward to the bedlam; the fury; the end of Tython. He sighed with sincere revulsion and gloom. "...You say this is more important than either of us? I say that this war is lesser than us, its only blessing being the meeting of we two warriors and this...breaking of reality. These people we fight for and against are lesser than us. Statistics. Nameless. Faceless. Worthless. Not like us. Not like those of us who actually affect the Galaxy. I do not know why this understanding of everything has suddenly changed me so, broken me out of my lust for blood. Driven itself alongside the wishes that broke me free of that prison belonging to your Master. I can only surmise that it must be the workings of something truly magnificent. Something that needed Tython to die for us to hear its words. Broiling at the base of my brain until I met you in person again to relay its teachings. Something that could only happen now, at this very moment, this very time. The convenience of a world's end."
His gaze lowered once more to Ishida and saw as information buried in the banks of his Force-enhanced rose to the surface of memory and dialogue, "And if I have to beat you into understanding that as well, I will. If you try to fight me again and again, I will fight you again and again. But by day's end and all days after this one...you will accept the truth in your heart...and serve at my side. You are a warrior with potential unmatched...and you will do what your brother failed to do. You will take the reigns of your house, do away with all semblance of weakness, fight alongside me, and together we will have our people rise to the domination of this Galaxy."
He charged her without waiting for a response, concluding now that the clarity of swordplay was what aided her conclusive process. He swung, hard and fast with the skill of a trained fencer despite the newness of his weapons. A diagonal slash, followed up by a horizontal cut, each aimed to injure rather than kill, but each lethal if she took the wrong step. Thankfully, she did not and the Jedi spun with quickness and deftness, her form impeccable in spite of the raging fires between her and her assailant.
He swung again and again, each time purposefully avoiding overt lethality in place of mere injury and incapacitation. Anything that could be healed he would inflict, whether it be on the arm, chest, back, legs, or face. She would fall into submission and join his cause. This was her purpose, he realized now. To join him and help him raise Devaron from the ashes of obscurity. And he in turn would aid her in Atrisia's rising into domination of the martial arts. And together, they would carve out a legacy of death, destruction, and code that would last for thousands of years.
And so he attacked her, driving her to lose the remnants of weakness from the Jedi and to strike at him with full fury and power, unleashing her inner beast and truly reveling in the heat of combat. And if she did not, he would beat her down and try again and again and again until she learned that it was the only way left for her. The only way. He swung and swung and swung with spinning dances of the blade, performing moves impossible for any but a cybernetic, ducking under her own strikes and bending at inhuman angles. All the while, he still never attacked to kill. Even when the lightsaber occasionally struck his body, he never sought to kill.
And then, something unexpected occurred. She had adapted, quickened her attacks to match his own speed, and just as swiftly as he had dodged one downward cut, Ishida had brought it back up in a blinding arc for his side. He heaved with effort, knowing there to be no other option, and swung his left arm blade for hers, hoping to at least deflect it enough to avoid the full brunt of the very obvious crippling blow.
Metal connected with plasmic light and, in an instant, Ishida's lightsaber deactivated with a spark.
The tenuous clash of corrupted yorik coral and enlightened Force energy was something few had ever seen before. The experience was far more taxing to Onrai than it should have been - perhaps it was because so much of her essence had been poured into the superweapon and was being focused on responding to the Mandalorian's actions presently. There were few other options that could appropriately be pursued - except for perhaps one.
As the assault of light and darkness clashed in the physical world, Onrai sought to press herself upon Runi's mind, to take advantage of any gaps in concentration or thought that would allow her to slip in. Images of great abominations flashed forth, from ichor-dripping cubes the size of dreadnoughts to bizarre and esoteric alien faces that matched no known form of life. Scenes of enslaved beings of all kinds being made to craft great galactic weapons for a war in heaven that took part before any mortal alive had been able to glimpse it.
This is the future that is being averted. What you call for by opposing me means that this, which has come to pass, will come again. Do you have no desire to keep the galaxy safe?
The yorik coral strained in concert with Onrai's own push upon Runi's mind, small cracks beginning to form in the outer layer of the coral.
Romund huffed in anger still as they explained what they were doing. Having ruined his plan once they removed the stasis field from Romund he really just stood there with his head down. “I can’t believe this…” Looking back at the ship which was being rendered more and more obsolete with each passing moment. Speaking over his shoulder to the man he continued.
“You could’ve just ended me instead, it would’ve been easier. In fact it could’ve done more good.” He didn’t ask him why he didn’t do it. Romund already knew it was likely their own moral code of some kind. “Killing me, you likely could’ve saved yourself, the troubled crew on that ship, and possibly even me.” Believing that they now might just have a fate worse than death.
With that said he reached into the Force himself. All that anger at his own failure still fuelled him as he brute forced his way into the mind of one of the crewmen on the ship’s bridge. Taking control of their movements he had them activate the hyperdrive of the downed star destroyer. With it having been primed and ready before Romund exited the vessel with all its safety measures disabled. He would have the ship and its immediate surroundings likely including Romund and his adversary.
Around them time and space began to distort for a second as they were pulled into the extra dimensional realm of hyperspace followed by a blinding light that likely rivaled the sun on tython before they were stripped from existence leaving behind a clean and large crater behind. Now in the unknown of destroyed reality of hyperspace.
War raged and the Bloodsworn around Akar Kesh waged war in defense of the Dark Voice, in defense of Solipsis. There were far fewer of them now than there had been at the start. The attacks of Damsy and Judah had cut them down by the score, and still they continued on. They had no other choice and no other desire. So on they charged, directed by the Chosen Maeve and commanded to do so by Zachariel before the battle even began. Now, they followed through. Despite the losses inflicted, and the losses to come, they fought on against the forces of good.
"Come you fools, come and face your doom!"
On and on Maeve taunted the pair assaulting the Bloodsworn position here. For Judah, no Bloodsworn warriors stood in his way, having been ordered away by Maeve. This left a clear path open between the Chosen and the Jedi, one she was all but begging him to take. She sought a good battle and believed Judah may be able to provide. As such, the other Bloodsworn moved to focus on Damsy, though a few lingered nearby, to witness the fight.
Hefting her hammer, Maeve laughed loudly while glaring at Judah. She was waiting for the Jedi to make his move, waiting to bring him low. Hammer at the ready, armor already whirring with bloodlust, and Maeve herself grinning like mad, the Chosen stood ready. Watching Judah like a hawk, she stood on her outcropping and waited, bloodlust clear in the Force.
Elsewhere, the Bloodsworn closed on Damsy. Three squads were closest, but one reached her first to engage. This squad was half melee weapons and half ranged weapons. Once more, blaster fire and slugs shot towards Damsy, covering the movement of the rest. Said fire ended suddenly, as the melee warriors were a few steps away. In tandem, three of them jumped forward in a well rehearsed maneuver. One struck from the left, another from the right, and the third from the front. It was a tactic used across many battle fields and one to be used again today. The leader of these three let out a cry as they attacked.
They were legion, across several dozens skiffs the army of the Brotherhood neared that of the forces of good. Kaleth was their closest target, their Avatar ordained mission. So they raced there, towards the forces of good and light, towards all that was holy. And these unholy warriors sought to tear down everything good and just to be found there, to leave nothing behind but burning rubble. Racing along atop their war skiffs, they continued to howl foul praises to the Dark Gods of the Maw, seeking to earn their favor with the bloodshed.
They had been sent through the portal to Tython on one simple mission, turn the tides of battle. In truth, they were going to sacrifice themselves to strengthen Solipsis' ritual. But they would do so in a way that would still weaken the forces of good. So they charged, towards the shields around Kaleth. Only, the hover tanks were already blowing holes into defensive lines. The sight brought savage joy to the army, and their own tanks fired off shots. Above them, the leaders and the Heathen Priests were informed of the development by others and they raised their voices to the marauders all about.
"Rejoice, for the will of the Avatars is made manifest!"
Cheering as they raced on, the Brotherhoods army neared Kaleth. As they did, the brain demon tentacles attacked them. Above them, the cracks in reality pulsed, and they howled dark praises to the gods as a result. Speeding up to ever more reckless speeds, most didn't even notice the new attacks, simply rushing by them atop their war skiffs. A handful died, but the rest simply continued on, uncaring and unheading of the dead they left behind. Instead, they neared Kaleth with dark praises as they opened fire.
Atop their war skiffs, or following behind, a veritable wall of blaster bolts and slugs flew forth towards Kaleth. Primarily, they focused on their enemy, but at the speeds they were going, it wouldn't be surprising if some shots landed close to their allies. Other shots went towards the tentacles in their midst, or towards other enemy forces. Mere moments later, having raced far to reach their goal, the Brotherhood army neared the walls and shields torn asunder by the Hover Tanks.
More fire from their own joined that of their fellows. And they charged into the fray, rushing towards the outskirts of Kaleth, running towards enemy positions. Howling their war cries, the Brotherhoods army neared Kaleth and entered. At the fore were those more melee oriented, along with numerous of the leaders. They sought to prove themselves in battle against the forces of good. Behind them came the rest, filtering towards the city, firing as they went.
The Shaman didn't respond to the claim to victory. She'd heard that many times before, and would hear it may times again.
With Onrai's shell seeking to collapse in around her, the tip of Runi's blade pressed against the wall through which the entity had returned to a greater whole. Would it matter if she stabbed the light-infused weapon through the skin of the hanger? Was an appreciable part of Onrai there for it to matter? There was enough for the two of them to be struggling over that footprint on the vile fortress that hung over Tython.
The tip of the Shaman's helm tolled to the side a few degrees as it lowered. Onrai seemed intent on feeding Runi visions of armaggeddon that once was and might be again. An act the Speaker actually accepted as her body strained to push forward. The tendrils of light the wrestled with the coral seemed to slip and the shell closely began to close in about the woman bathed in light.
Silence passed as the yorik seemed to complete the shell about the Shaman, with the Light swallowed within the makeshift tomb.
- - - - -
Projected back in turn, upon a foreign land beneath a resplendent sky, surrounded by an alien architecture not seen since written history began, two entities moved.
"You are a fool!"
A faceless form's limb was ensnared by another's painted by a different hue. Their perceptive organs met as the other did not easily release them. "Am I? Should we stay here and languish under the lash of The Enemy? Someone has to Rise Up."
"You are One." Their grasp tightened for a moment to impress upon them their isolation. "What good can come of this?"
A moment of silence passed. "Every trail was blazed by the footsteps of One brave enough to take them."
- - - - -
Runi's helm lifted as though to meet Onrai's eyes. A People that surrenders from fear -- that lays down the strength of their deepest held beliefs to secure a momentary reprieve of physical pain or retain possession of their temporal possessions -- never rises again. The souls of those that fight endure across time and space will never die. No one judges another worthy of being Mandalorian, it is a personal truth that can only be surrendered and replaced by the shallow pursuits of others. We will fight this future to the last -- that is our Way.
"Dilasa." <Mando'a: Scatter.> The shimmering feathers of the Shaman's cloak shook as if a wind swept through the yorik shell. Soon the Many Feathers turned into a blizzard of white within the shell. Onrai had yet to witness the determination of Mandalorians; perhaps Runi would help her understand momentarily.
His hands shuffled across the console; button, switch, lever, all activated as the idle thrum of the vessel whirred into life. He felt the rumble beneath his seat, the sudden roar of the thrusters made clear as he motioned forwards with his left hand, to see the cloaked hull materalise in the isolated area left undisturbed from all the death that bore down on the entire system - to call for the demise of the Jedi, of their homeworld. In no time at all, faster than it took for him to even arrive, had the craft soared across the desolated fields, scarred forests, and hills towards the initial contact zone. Mandalorian and Sith still battled, with the newfound of ordinance of one side to even the odds. If not crush them.
The Force be damned, the mere force of his arsenal was intent to subdue it and them.
From behind the worn and weathered Mandalorian helmet, Fett sneered as he slammed on the mechanism to fire the twin cannons. Back and forth, it seemed to the two rocked as a beam far heavier than a blaster bolt soared out towards the two Sith, even if his focus remained on Carnifex. He offered little attention to his new student, whoever she was. Yet, he continued with several missiles aimed towards the Sith Lord. To become locked onto him, their blue trails to mark their arrival. But the Sith was no weak foe, and overkill remained justified. Even if it caused the death of Jedi, of Alliance soldiers, it was of little concern to him. He deployed a seismic charge that careened towards the hill. All in one run.
Ishida held Laoth at bay, heady with her own power. It was in her hands now, she could take him. She took his blade, she could take his life. Ishida didn’t bury the thought, she gloried in it. She engorged herself with its juices, and felt its power tingle in her cheeks. It made her feverish, this thought, with lust so overpowering as to totally obliterate all other considerations.
She had the power; the choice was hers.
It was a profound moment for Ishida. Dizzying. Yet, she did not swoon. Nor did she recoil.
She took another step forward to meet him, keeping her glower transfixed on the ghastly silhouette of her archfoe.
In her mental absence, she’d relinquished her firm hold on him, and Laoth was emerging from the stone, stepping back toward her.
Unwaveringly, she watched his eyes darken. Amber burned to black. His gaze held hers from light-years and a soul’s breath away. She stared back, cold and implacable. Across that abyss, all that breathing air between them, he let words conjure out spells that appealed to the core of her desires.
Who would they conquer, she’d asked? The Galaxy, he’d replied.
As heads of their families, their nations, the Devaronian Devil and Atrisian Angel would make the galaxy in their image. Just how they liked.
But she’d heard that before. A more jejune version of it, unrefined, thoughtless and recited, but nevertheless, there was always someone who wanted to rule the galaxy. Who thought they were right:
Her eyes stung with unshed tears. They refused to fall. She wasn’t sad, or anguished, but suddenly confused again. What did she want? What should she do? When she’d left Hebo, she’d been violently focused, and Laoth’s invitation brought her back to that transient centre. Her brief exultation, her microsecond of dark clarity — gone, now, in a wash of indecision, veiled enigma. Cold awakening from a passionate flirtation that appealed to all that which she’d been bred to covet.
Now? What did she want?
Did she want this world to end, and shake the Jedi to their cure? Crack out all the impurities and start anew? Start out as a small power base? No longer be in a position of prosperity, and fight their way, earn their way?
Maybe there was something as disruptive as family values that was necessary to shake up the cycle of the galaxy’s constant cycle that cast around plagues, violence, and strife to the weary.
These people we fight for and against are lesser than us. Statistics. Nameless. Faceless. Worthless. Not like us. Not like those of us who actually affect the Galaxy.
Laoth’s appeal abused her imagination. Reality shimmered around them, swirling and curdling into dark clouds that coalesced into shadows of nothingness.
“N-no.” She whispered, but felt hypocrisy burn in her throat. She saw faces, stretched and agonized, eternally damned to endless cries, but recalled less than a handful of names. They’d been temporary allies, soldiers at her side, but setpieces to her own glory.
But just because she didn’t know who they were, didn’t mean they had no family. No-one else who’d miss them when they were gone.
She’d learned that lesson on Ziost. And, when given the opportunity, that nameless face had earned a name, and had tried to create a future for herself once mercy and chance was offered.
"I've been keeping something of an eye on Eva. She's integrating, considering university courses. Starting a life. Something away from conflict and war."
“This world is home to thousands of families..” Ishida heard herself argue, quietly, drowned out by the rain and the raging storm and Laoth’s own monogloue. It would be home to her family. To Henna and Inosuke. It was the world that Bernard was watchman over. It couldn’t just…end.
You are a warrior with potential unmatched...and you will do what your brother failed to do. You will take the reigns of your house, do away with all semblance of weakness, fight alongside me, and together we will have our people rise to the domination of this Galaxy."
Ishida’s narrow eyes widened. The grip on her hilt slackened, and she bristled as the beast continued to encroach on her space.
Akar Kesh’s falling stone roared, tumbling down the tower to the waterfalls Bernard had insisted he and Ishida needed to see together. The roaring, pound of water pulled at her awareness, and foamy tides pulled around her feet, splashing over her boots and up her ankles. The rainfall gathered into thick ribbons of silvery water, whirling and swirling into whirlpools around the warriors’ feet. Reality flickered in and out of balance. The part of the Akar Kesh that had been a temporary tomb for Laoth crumbled, turning to silt and tiny rockslides.
Stone bounced off of stone and their soundwaves quaked, their rumble echoed through the fissures of reality, their sound mutating to match Genichiro’s cruel laugh at his daughter’s plight. It was so simple, so easy.
Become me.
While Ishida stared wordlessly at her father walking alongside Laoth, her opponent chose to lunge forward.
Her blade flashed up, defensively, and her footwork kicked into overdrive. Potential thrummed in her veins, but her actions were inhibited. Clouded by confounded judgement.
Laoth spoke in her language, silver tongue was traded for his silver swords — two at a time — against her single blade. She twisted, dodged, scurried, and leaped, all to defend herself and parry back to him the violence he served her.
But his attacks were different.
There was vileness to them that hadn’t been there before.
A vileness that provided a foundation for his promise. He was lethal, yes, but there was a punctuation to his stabs and jabs. Intentionally pulling his punches.
Her confusion morphed, shifting to layered anger. The first layer was anger that he was still alive, and further fury came from knowing he was holding back.
His movements were unnatural, almost unholy, and she saw a match in his excellence. In the flurry of her movements, she found thought.
Was this what redemption felt like? Is this why she’d given him the chance to survive, to escape execution twice now? Was this purposed? Was she meant to say yes?
Everything he said aligned with what she wanted, and yet —
— she twisted, sharply, to avoid an incoming skewer. The gesture was so sudden, it jarred the necklace beneath her clothes to shudder against her collarbone. A sharp trill of ice-cold shocked her back to reality.
Ishida gasped.
The necklace Bernard gifted her had meant to help him find his way home, and for Ishida, it did similarly. The cool touch of the Arkanian metal reminded her where her heart was. What the vision of a family meant to her now.
Emboldened, Ishida jabbed her sabre forward — her muscles no longer muddled with indecision.
“I could never be part of your darkness.” His side was exposed, and if she could only land this, he’d be on his knees.
Her strike never landed.
His blade met hers, thick with cortosis’ curse, and the brilliant glow of her sabre was instantly doused. Nothing but useless sparks, like tiny snowflakes.
Loath counterbalanced his strength and altered the fluidity of the motion. His arm blade that would have easily pierced through her gut, straight through her spine, and out her back, wrenched instead across her belly, and sliced a clean line across her body. Fabric and skin peeled away from the line of his sword, and she staggered forward, aghast.
Belatedly, she became aware of the blood spilling from her abdomen. Astounded, in shock, her hand smeared against the ripped seam across her stomach. Crimson ichor warmed against her flesh, seeping through her fingers and running over her knuckles.
It wasn’t a fatal blow, but it was more blood than she’d ever seen pour from her veins.
Her observation ended there, Laoth moved in once more. Relentless.
Without a sabre, Ishida could only muster up defensive techniques. A bloom of a telekinetic barrier here, a dodge there — but pulling and twisting her torso sent unignorable shrieking aches through her body, one so violent that she stumbled and hit the ground. Her sabre clattered away from her reach. A trail of red followed her to her final resting place.
Her eyes tracked Laoth all the while he approached her. At the back of her mind, a distant sound tugged at her awareness. Henna’s voice filled her consciousness with words she did not want to hear:
"This is Master Sarratt. GADF is calling for evacuation of the surface. I am advising Jedi do the same. The ritual's peak is imminent. Transports are en route. Master Varoblader is running shields upon Prosperity for those who can get here. If you cannot, seek asylum elsewhere. We must live to fight another day."
Ishida’s silvery eyes widened, pained by the thought. No! No! The waterfalls, the ring of islands, the desert with no sound — Bernard had promised to take her there. She couldn’t lose them. They couldn’t retreat! They had to fight! They had to defeat darkness!
She had to defeat darkness!
Through her grimace, Ishida groaned and scratched through the dirt for her sabre. It shivered in the debris, slicken by the rain, and slowly rolled back to her touch. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up to her elbows. The searing sensation persisted, sharply, when she stretched. More blood pulsed from her wound, throbbing and alive, and spilled to Tython’s crust. Laoth stood over her, staring down in his triumph. The colour was slowly building in his eyes again, and Ishida tried to force herself back up.
Her sabre sparked uselessly and did not ignite. Halfway risen, she bit the ground again at the behest of the devaronian’s boot heavy against her chest. Kaleidoscopic technicolour popped in her vision, fading in and out of shadowy flashes.
"Stay down, Ishida. I told you...the more you fight me, the more I will beat you until you learn and accept the truth. Until you submit and join me. I can keep this up until the sun fades out and the remnants the moons rise high in its place and the stars dim to nothingness.”
The pressure pushed out more red. Pain, white-hot, pulsed out from her core and up her throat. When she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out. Only rain travelled through the cracks in her lips and soaked her tongue.
“Can you? Can you keep fighting until then, Ishida?”
She coughed, running out of air. Beneath the weight of his heel, she had not even enough breath to make her vocal chord buzz. Just move her lips noiselessly.
“Spare yourself that agony and submit!”
Once more, she thumbed the activator on her sabre. It puffed out nothing but specks of plasma, hardly even scorching the ground. Still, she kept her intense focus on the kyber itself. It was silenced, furious in its chamber and ready to shine its blinding light. But it was trapped. Suffocating the same way its master was. Through that understanding, Ishida resonated with the stone. She felt its vibrancy, despite its temporary injustice.
Above them, light shone through the cyclone of terror that swirled around Akar Kesh. Broad, golden rays stretched through the clouds. Ashla’s fragmented moonrocks sprinkled around their battle scene hummed and trembled. It felt like defiance in her bones as if the planet was making an argument on her behalf.
Warmth from the lightsoaked through her body, saturating herself in all that was available. Even with Henna’s call for convergence, there were glimmers of hope to be found in the fragments of panic. The Force whispered, exchanging currents of promise between herself and the stone in her blade. Ashla sprawled and reached for her warrior that pleaded and welcomed.
Her body felt electric, like energy crackled just below her skin. Sharper than fire, brilliant and biting.
Courage filled her in a rush, and her eyes flashed open, shining with a brightness that belonged to the moon. Her blade had been resurrected by Ashla’s breath. A sharp extension of The Force itself, glowing the colour of untouched, pure crystal.
“Watch me.”
With a final bout of strength, Ishida moved like those waterfalls of Akar Kesh she wanted to see. Fast, furious, fluid, and powerful. A foot planted against the earth, and she thrust herself upward, against the incredible strength of Laoth’s stance. The Force amplified her unnatural vigour.
Laoth, unprepared for the swiftness of his kickstand transferring her weight in a blur, staggered back. Ishida pressed against his defences, faster than ever before. Almost unseen, and certainly unpredictable, her flurries of Ashla pounded against whatever defences he attempted. Once, twice, thrice he managed to evade the scathing burn of Ashla’s arbiter. But he burned. She saw it. She smelled it. She felt the triumph of her Forceborn sword echo through her grip.
Each strike she delivered drove them closer and closer to the edge of Akar Kesh, and with a final draw of strength, she drew her blade across his abdomen. But unlike him, she did not hold back.
Ashla willing, the bite of her blade would tear through his metal carapace, bone, and muscle, and halve him.
3x Aspis Pocket Carriers, 17x Aculeo Mini Carriers. Tu'teggacha
------------------------------------Summary of Actions -------------------
Sorry Sularen! I waited as long as I could so you would have a chance to reply but time's ticking now, if you post something later I'll try to reply to you.
Aculia, furious, orders her bombers to kill the Fatalis and its remaining escorts, focusing on their engines first, then their hangars to prevent attempted escape by shuttle and to kill as many Mawites as possible, then destroying their superstructures. This will be done with continuous waves of bombers and fighters in a loop sans for those protecting her carriers below @Aximand Sicarus's forces or otherwise engaging Sularen's fighters.
Once the Fatalis and company have been dealt with, she orders her bombers to destroy the superweapon and engines of the Avatar of War, then commence attacks on the superstructure itself. She has given the Mandalorians enough time to execute their plan-she will not risk any more lives being lost for their glory if they do not succeed soon.
Come on, come on, die already you psychotic bastards!
Aculia bit her lip hard enough to draw blood as she watched the returning bombers strafe Samael frigates, red droplets pouring from her milky-white skin onto the spotless durasteel floor as she they did so. They managed to take out three of the attacking Mawite ships, but she knew it was far too little, far too late. Their heavy ion cannons spewed arcing azure fire over the detached Aspsises and Aculeos, causing more than half the group’s shields to sputter and die as they did so, along with taking out all but the most heavily hardened and insulated systems. Fortunately for the rest of the fleet, they had already been locked in on their interception courses, there was no real air resistance in space, and the Mawites had committed to their suicidal attack. That did not make her feel any better, not at all.
It was my mistake and my pride that cost them their lives, no matter what kind of platitudes or cope that Rex and the others give me at the end of the day. If I had only been a little bit more cautious…
She watched numbly as her forces and the Mawites collided in spectacular, golden-red explosions as the bitter cold mists of her crew’s death flowed across the void and washed over her in the force. She shivered and shook violently for a moment, holding back bile in her throat, as the souls of thousands of her men and women passed by her and dissipated into the Force, gone forever, destined to be absorbed into it as formless entities without the ability to hold themselves together after death like so many Force Sensitives. Perhaps there was a heaven where they could remain where they are like many of the religions said…but she could not sense it, and she doubted she would be allowed in after all she had done.
“Sir…” Captain Severin enquired cautiously with a tinge of sympathy in his voice.
Aculia’s normally cool, composed eyes burned with hatred and flashes of darkness as she raised them from the floor and looked at him. The middle-aged man stepped back voluntarily.
“Captain Severin, order our bombers continue the assault on the Fatalis and its escorts. Kill its engines first so it has nowhere to run, then blow up their hangars. Once that is done, destroy the superstructure. These Mawites are so eager to sacrifice themselves? Let none live-you may target their escape pods as well. We are not accepting surrenders today.”
She spit out those words with venom, closing her eyes and beginning to sink into a hate-filled variant of battle meditation as she did so. She was still new to the technique so it might not do too much in terms of combat effectiveness, but what it would convey is a sense of ruthlessness and disgust for the Mawites to all of her forces. None would be spared this day if she could help it.
“Once the Fatalis and its escorts are down, continue the attacks on the Avatar of War, focus on taking out its superweapon. Once that is done, kill its engines and then pummel it with everything we have unless the Mandalorians send us a clear victory signal. They’ve had enough time to carry out their plan-I will not let any weakness of theirs cause more deaths for us! Continue the original plan of continuous strikes on all of them in a loop, our reserve bombers should be finished reloading now. They will get not a moment’s respite. Transmit these orders to Keatoch
and have him have the same target priority. These animals die-now!"
“Yes sir!” Captain Severin replied, then barked out her orders to the fleet. They were going to slay one giant today, and if the Force willing, two.
