TAE: That's Why It's Called Babel | Dominion of Haven (AM-32)

[Aeron Tosh]

Aeron couldn't help but give out a small chuckle when he saw Lyra shoot the less-than-willing private with the net gun. Typical rookie mistake.

Aeron nodded in agreement to the PAC Ops sniper and started leading his squad to the first camp.

 

[Thraxis]

Objective: Let's say A, lest things change. Probably gonna catch a fox.
Post: Second
Loadout: Cruciatus Blades | Cruciatus Blades | Tazi Executioner Armor Mk-I | Enigma Gas Mask | RL-40 Stun Net Launcher | Phantasm Cloak | Thraxis Pistolas

Chapter 23: Something Related to Snow​

The cold. It was... Well, it was a bastard, was it? Everyone complains about what turmoil they go through when it's hot, they want cold, when its cold, they want heat and when it's just right they find something else to complain about. Humidity was a common complaint, the wind being followed, well actually. The wind was a pain. In this very case, a blizzard raged, the vision was impaired and where blood once spoiled every crack and recess of his many scratched and dented armour, the cold was taking it away, drops of snow forming underneath, pooling before peeling off, tearing with it a memory. That one was from a fight, that was from drunkards dance, oh and who could forget? Oh, but I lose myself. Where was I? Oh yes, the co-

"Where. Are. The. Foxes!" Thraxis berated the very wind and nature of life, luck was a cruel mistress. Why could she never just give him all he wanted in life? He deserved it, he lived life how he was dictated, by nature. He thought he was a rather merciful man for what he was, and here Lady Luck has tossed him into a tundra, with nothing but dead women, an inability to see, and tools for murder, not survival. He had been there for two hours. Two blasted hours he raged in the snow, mind addled and weary from boredom. He rolled a few times, shifted the now frozen body parts and eventually, with due time. Stopped. He sat down, coiled in his cloak and opened up his comm, sending a message through to anyone who was hopefully on planetside. "Ello, Ello, this is a code... Aw crap what... Ah...." He paused, looked through his duffel bag for any inkling of what military speak to use before tossing it aside with a sigh and a rollback, "It's a whatever code. This is Thraxis I have become stranded planetside. My coordinates are somewhere between a blizzard and a snowstorm." With a heavy click, he cut off his communication, ended the recording and reeled a little back. He doubted he would be saved. At this point in time, what was he then an unknown soldier, an unknown creature and just another number?

​

Chapter 24: Now all wishes shouldn't come true​

In no more than five minutes after that message was sent something happened. Not what he wished, but what he had earned. His voice had given away his position in a heartbeat and with his mind dominated by imagination and stirred boredom the sound of jubilated steps treading snow was all but lost to him. The men were big. bigger than Thraxis. Which wasn't a huge statement, the guy was barely taller than Madam Kay, and not much wider. The fur covered, barbarian-esque creature quickly coiled around Thraxis like a snake finding a plump rat, with ease, a look of hunger and somewhere between the joy of the hunt, and pure burning instinct. "Look i'ere. We found ourselves a little rodent. A bit big for the foxes." He could smell the pungent carrion rotting between his teeth, and the too familiar scent of mead as his heavy breaths poured down his back. Thraxis struggled, his arms shook with the violence of a stroke patient, his head ploughed backwards like the devil itself forced its way down his throat, and he screamed curses like a banshee itself had swapped their voice boxes. Was it natural for him to panic? No, normally even in a situation like this he still held a card. Normally the threat of he has contacts and isn't afraid to nuke them. But he didn't have that ace anymore. The Cartel was gone. The Jackals, Dead. Hell, even his Gammorean comrades had... Well. A fate had hit them. One that made them too unreliable for this occasion, any occasion. And one that.... One that hurt. But hell. Maybe he could be saved. If not, well. Fate had a funny way of screwing you over like that.

 

[Sekhet-ka-nefer]

Current Objective: B | The Peak
Post 02
ATTN | [member="Braith Achlys"] [member="Asteria deWinter"] [member="The Matador"] [member="Zet Anaa"] [member="Mythos"]

The look that the chrome-colored War-Chieftain leveled on the priestess was returned with a neutral, even stare by her. Whatever the Anubian woman could have been thinking, whatever thoughts she held of the giant metal man and his Adjudicator, were all hidden behind a nigh-impenetrable veil held aloft by her neutrality which, in turn, was supported by the fortress of her mind. She remained totally silent as her eyes slid over the various members of their party, save for the occasional shiver that would softly shake her to the core. When the others began to move forward, she followed, focusing her attention upon the path that lay ahead.

Khaemt, may these warriors strike true. May they become your will made manifest, and sweep aside whatever blasphemies lie before us.

The veil that the others had passed through laid before her. It was an uneasy sight, an omen of the barriers yet to come in their journey. This belief was only reinforced in Sekhet's heart by the feeling of that something was watching them - the views and actions of the other party members served to convince her of this: they were not alone.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Post 2
Objective B

She rolled her eyes at the show of power put on display by [member="Mythos"], rather put off that he had made their journey all the more easy. There would be no tribulation if things were constantly made inconsequential - she was one that was especially familiar with the premise behind the environmentally altering abilities of the force, something she had mastered to the same degree in her ability as a capable alchemist and enchantress - and it appeared that outward displays of might were all that mattered to those that clutched their faith so tightly to their chests. She understood, actually - once she had been placed on the same pedestal that these heathens placed their deities, only she had been real, and she had no doubt in her mind that the ancient gods and creatures that they worshiped were little more than figments of their imagination.

Not that she told anyone that, of course - she had the common decency to respect their beliefs and allow them to make their own decisions, in much the same way that she minimized her displays of power so as to not draw attention to herself. To those that were accompanying this trip up the mountain she was little more than a warrior that was a part of the horde, one who spoke little and observed much. It was better this way, to be seen as little more than one of the many consolidated under the banner of the eye, because it allowed her to blend in easier, to assist without lowering herself to some boastful fighter. This was only the consensus of a great many of her inner demons, voices of the thousand that argued even in her slumber over the directive of their combined will. In a way she felt separate from them, from all of them including the woman whose name she wore, despite only existing as an amalgamation of their collective consciousness. Feeling that way helped her ignore the voices of dissent that shouted out to be heard, several that argued the use of great power in an overt manner forced attention - attention they believed would help put her, them, in a position of authority that she didn't want.

She ignored these demands, of course, and followed shortly behind the rest instead, falling in line like any good and quiet warrior might, short as she was.

 

[Salij-Nekt]

Objective: B
Post: 1
Tags: @Sekhet-ka-nefer @Braith Achlys [member="Mythos"] [member="Asteria deWinter"] [member="Zet Anaa"] [member="The Matador"]

Salij-Nekt had come with other Anubians, though upon arrival he had hung back. He had come as a protector of the Priests of the Ancient Eye, and one had come here. So it was his duty, as the protector and Executioner of the Priests to serve and protect them, and carry out their deeds. Salij could feel the pull. There was something about it, something lurked over these mountains. The others passed through the veil, all but one. An Anubian, one of the priestesses. "Something troubling?" He looked about, wary of the surroundings. "I shall remain near as protection...as is my duty."

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Objective: B | The Peak
Post: 04
Passive Objective: Try not to stare!
​Attn: [member="Mythos"] | [member="Zet Anaa"] | [member="Asteria deWinter"] | [member="Sekhet-ka-nefer"] | [member="Salij-Nekt"] | [member="Braith Achlys"]

​

​The Matador marched onward, his eyes falling on Mythos as his back turned; seeing the King arrive. Valiantly, he attempted to break the veil yet to little effect. It seemed whatever held this strange influence over this plain, was more powerful than what any individual could muster alone. Even when it seemed like this entity was at its weakest, it still overwhelmed, pressing at the mind. Lightning struck close once more, reflected and bounded backward as it seemed Mythos defensive abilities prevailed somewhat. The Matador turned around the edge of the mountainous ramp, leading the party upward as the ramp lead to a small spot of flat land, faced against a massive steep rock-wall. A few feet beyond that was a thirty foot gap, with a the haul of a crashed ship on the opposite side. It was perched up against some rocks, it looked movable.

​On their side, a few scraps of metal with skeletal bodies, wrapped in rags from ages past. The Matador stopped, observing one of the cold bodies in front of him, worn Plasteel had faded into dust and ashes, he could perceive one distinct feature, a cracked StormTrooper helm rested on its shoulders, strange. He turned, feeling a presence; individual from what he had felt before. Whispers almost, taking a step forward; his eyes saw nothing. His infrared vision picked up no signs of life at all. He stretched out his feelings, the force enhancing his senses but it was met with a dense fog of cryptic thought.

​"Up here."

​The brute barked back down, his hand instinctively reaching for Oribuir strapped to his back when suddenly a hand rose out from under the earth, tight knotted skeletal fingers grasping at the Matador's ankle, with a swift motion he moved. The fingers snapping into pieces as the massive giant side stepped away, Oribuir coming to his hand as the skeleton he had saw before, wearing a Imperial Helm launched itself at his back, driving bone into metal. Many more began to emerge from the ground. Skeletal beings.

SKELETON WARRIOR ATTACK​

 

[Thraxis]

Objective: Let's say A, lest things change. Probably gonna catch a fox.
Post: Third
Loadout: Stolen

Chapter 25: In rough bed's​

Where does one awaken when they're dragged by a brute, a mountain forged by flesh and eroded by brutality. In the pits. Not the nice pits, the ones you walk out of with a sore back and short a bit of change. No, bloodied mean pits, where the spirit's themselves are beaten to a bloodied pulp, left to wallow in failure and where even the will grows weak. These were the pits. Not many bodies were here, but those few that were rotted and layers peeled off in flaking fashion. Thraxis stumbled and rolled, a lump formed on his head. Something that should have been suppressed by a mask. But that wasn't there. He laid naked, with only a hand to cover his indecency.

"Urr..." Was this a hangover? He rolled out of... Well, far from bed more like a floor wetted from what he could only assume to be the blood of ex-fighters. But he had a hunch they hadn't been the retiring sort of Ex. He peeled up, his own skin peeling off as he took a look around the room, there were no chairs, and only some loose fitted metal bars stuck to the only thing still intact. He walked with a heave as he pressed his hands against the bar, peering through to see if anyone had been there.

​

What he saw, were more beast than men, walking back and forth like restrained bears, they walked back and forth, peering through empty cages before propping themselves against Thraxis door. "Well. Well. Well." The man bemoaned, teeth dripped with that all too familiar scent. Not the same guy as before, but one could barely tell the difference. ​

"Well? Is that all ya got to say to your honoured guest?" Thraxis retorted, the smell of death might have dripped from the bear, but Sarcasm dripped from his like a freshly stricken viper.

​

"Oh, a clever one is it?" He chuckled, a fist quickly came curbing through, the loose bars swung with a crack and a chunk of rebar stuck into a small blot of necrotic skin. ​

"A... Doesn't take much to be clever around here it seems." He retorted, the giant giving a confused look that passed in a second, before another hand went flying through, cracking Thraxis cheek and jaw in the process, his flawed and mutilated skin swelling an inch before giving a smile in response.

​

"Were's that tongue huh? Nothing clever to say?" He continued a hand constricting around the throat of the beaten Thraxis, eyes growing wide and cheek-turning blue as seconds turned into minutes and air became a short-lived memory.​

"Doubt... You'd... Understand..." He chocked out, unable to react before being tossed aside, body smashing against the wall as he rolled over, hand instinctively wrapping around his throat as the two exchanged steely daggers at one another. The man turned, grumbling beneath his breath, little to Thraxis knowledge his turn had formed a large grin and a sadistic turn as he belted into the door, head bleeding as those few bars were caved in and bent around the thing's skull.

His face contorted and twisted, like a face pulled by the puppeteer's strings. It reminded Thraxis of himself, and that brought shivers. Was he really this unthreatening? He might need to work on that a bit. "Ya know. We don't get funny ones too often. Don't last long either." He continued, his words laced with that touch of sympathy, but far more jubilance as his head tilted, before being pulled out with a heave of force, few splinters formed in the wood as he turned, Thraxis caught the glimpse of a sing;e bear and a creature strapped over his shoulder, dead. A thousand cuts, and all too familiar ones too. The thing's muscles still twitched with pain and it was clear. Bastards were using his Cruciatus Blade. "Oh, recognize the cuts do ya? Yeah, found them on ya. Nice stuff too. Better than Iron if ya would believe that." His voice radically changed, as if old friends meeting after a long hiatus. But Thraxis played this played out the card. Back when he was nothing more than some rip-off of better characters. "Better get ready. Cause ya next to feel its sting." His features twisted, his lips curled to an almost peak as it reached from ear to ear, Thraxis done nothing more than glare, disinterested in talking to this swine before he got the memo, and got back to guard duty. No words exchanged just standing stoically.​

​

Chapter 26: FFFC​

Minutes passed and there was Thraxis, glaring at the door, far out of his element and far from his manic control. The door peeled open, a heavy air rolled in as the brute rolled back in, shoulders back as he clicked a finger, pointing to a streak on the ground and tossing a single sheet of leather. Made sense, no one wanted to see that but didn't want to waste clothes on dead men. Thraxis looked down, weary and beaten as he followed the path. To Salvation? No, Freedom? Hardly. More like a spectacle for death row. He rolled along, there were no corners, but a cold wind blew through, layers of snow covered the path as he looked out, two guards pulling with familiarity and a roll of sweat as a chain pulled up a wall of steel, the cell guard, pushing him through as the sting of cold rolled over his body, pulling himself up to catch a glimpse of what he was up for. Maybe two dozen spectators, and a single sparring partner. Around him laid the frozen blood of his old foes, layers of fresh snow quickly stained tuscan. He slowly peeled himself up, dropping into a boxing stance, shoulders rolled back, legs spread apart and bent at the knees as his opponenet smiled with glee. Was this too be a good fight? Or a quick one. Thraxis didn't know. And wasn't ready to ask.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Post 3
Objective: B

She heard the whispers, the moans, before they came - before [member="The Matador"] spoke. It was unsettling, unnatural, and but its tune was all too familiar to the witch. She had her spear held across her front as she picked up the pace of her walk, heading towards the behemoth of a man as he called out. Her eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, at the sudden reach made by a skeletal hand. What had been a hastened walk became a sprint, switching her trading the spear from her right hand to her left as she ran towards the source of conflict. Where the voices within her were chaotic, like a crowd shouting over any individual voice, the feeling these dead creatures put on the mental plane were anything but intelligible. If there was something to relate the "sound" she heard to, it was the final rattling groan that left the lips of the deceased as they made their last struggle for life.

The heavy coat that had burdened the Firrerreo was shrugged off of her shoulders, a quick toss of her spear into the air allowing her to fully disrobe of the excess clothing, leaving her with form fitting clothing alone, in spite of the bitter cold. She moved with an agility that had been impossible with such restrictive clothing, catching the spear as it fell with her right hand as her left made a gesture towards the ground at the air. She had seen the lightning strike prior, knew of the root of its creation, and robbed the mountain pass of its wind - stilling the air almost instantaneously. Immediately there was only the sound of those living and otherwise in their struggle for the destruction of the other. Electricity played at her fingertips, but she decided not to engage in any overt displays of ability, instead moving in close to cut down a soldier of the undead with the head of her spear, which sapped the energy that had sustained it upon contact.

Energy that fed into her, drained from its corpse through a subtle act of the force that went beyond the mere stamina drain afforded by her polearm.

She could taste them now, knew their substance and their source - and she was hungry to devour more.

 

[Asteria deWinter]

Objective: The Mystery of the Peak, Follow the Trail ( B )
Post: 3

From behind them, she could hear the God-King addressing the force ahead of them, claiming what was ahead would not be kind to intruders. "It should be," Lady deWinter whispered, more to herself than to him before he spoke up again, this time following his words with a growl. "Mythos, it will not obey sheer words. You are not its God-King yet," Asteria finally spoke up louder, as she continued, stopping in her treck as lighting seemed to come at its response. So, it replies, the blond thought to herself as she continued, reaching out towards the atmosphere now. It seemed the force made nature its domain here but not beyond the veil.

Asteria stopped again as the Matador did, noticing what he had, taking in the little evidence to reveal the deceased identity. Of course, they had come though the last traces of the armor give little to tell just which Empire it had been. She could however without a doubt say it hadn't been her Father's or godfather's empires that had threaded here. The evidence presented gave no indication of the two empires she had been part of. Yet, it hardly mattered, Lady deWinter thought as the War Chieftan spoke up again.

They rose then, the dead, coming at them. Asteria hissed at the sight of the one coming at her, her hands lifting abruptly as she summoned from within the ground roots, ripping themselves out of the ground through the snow, grabbing the skeleton nearest to her and wrapping itself around his limbs before her hands waved sharply again to the side, pulling at the skeleton and separating each of the bones to fly into different directs.

Yet they continued to come, an entire army fo those who had come before them and her patience fleeting as the vines grabbed another near to her and ripped the skeleton as the one before it. "It wastes our time," the Sith snapped as her focused remained on the single element.

[member="The Matador"] [member="Zet Anaa"] [member="Sekhet-ka-nefer"] [member="Braith Achlys"]​

 

[Mythos]

Objective: B Skeleton Warriors
(2)

This land was not the land of Angramar, it was not like the land of any land. The face of arrogance and pride contorted into one of silent anger and a worried expression. Mythos reared his hand back as if snatched at by a beast of the wild. Cautiously he inched forward though the fog, hearing the mechanical voice of his chieftain when lightning struck, a pure and direct answer to his demands and a final nail in the coffin of whatever doubts he had that this.. thing was anything less an entity the linked of which he had only read possible. An anomaly in the historical data before and after the plague read distinctive pattern in behavior in some isolated location and it was always inconclusive but, a theory regarded by some scholars, one of which Mythos himself was a part of was a force anomaly that He and the streamlines knowledge of the force was not aware of. It was a legend of course and no one can prove legends are false. Some always believed.

As surprised as Mythos wished he had been at this moment he was not, he was however interested in dealing with the historical and archaeological documents what perhaps possibly explain any or all of this. In the mean time, he had bones to break. He sensed the power of the mistress of the elements and a smile crept over his lips, he would get to battle beside the Red Lady. The impossible perhaps became possible. "If it won't obey then I shall enslave it and break the obstacles in my way."

Two hand signals one after the other, Mythos took a knee and ignited his lightsaber while observing his surroundings for the nearest threat. His command was clear and a trio of commandos burst from the fog behind several meters away while firing their full arsenal and setting up firing positions to have him covered while they brought him a large, double sided box and a larger duresteel ammo case. While Mythos operated the weapon and slinging it on himself called The Samael, his men covered him from the onslaught of bone and weapons in his direction. It did not take long to prepare but of feeding of ammunition slowed him down. \It was worth it when he began raining plasma at the horde of what he could only assume were the cause of some necrotic spell like the kinds he had faced underneath Korriban but much worse. Their mission was now to form a flank element for the sorceress to come up and secure this ground. The power of the elemntal mistress aided Mythos' left flank, so he capitalized.

"Valkyr Fire Activated"

The display over his weapon lit up as he activated the rate of fire at maximum and being linked to a mass ammunition supply brought down consistent and powerful fire at the cost of his mobility but now Mythos sensed something powerful other than the two warriors he had accounted here for.

"Cover me! Team Silver! Apex right!"
[member="Asteria deWinter"] [member="Braith Achlys"] [member="The Matador"]

​

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

​

​

Post #1​

Attn: [member="Asteria deWinter"] | [member="Mythos"] | [member="Braith Achlys"] | [member="The Matador"] | [member="Sekhet-ka-nefer"] | [member="Zet Anaa"]​

​

• Objective B
  Near the Peak, Haven

The Anubians called him Amt-ars-kera, the White Wolf of Ession. Some called him Darth Tacitus the Just. Very few really understood why he held these titles, for he was neither a native of that far away planet, neither was he a Sith, though it could be argued that he was their creation, born from the ashes of the worlds they burned and subjugated.

He was often spoken of in hushed tones by the campfire, hated by many of the Anubian nobility for his apparent lack of faith in their religion, as no one had ever seen him set foot in one of their temples, or bowing his head in prayer, and hated for the power which he held, power which set him above many of the millennial laws that they had to obey and which made him feared by a sizable portion of the population living under the banner of the Eye.

He emerged from the mists, heavy, barbarian-looking cloak billowing in the light breeze, his midnight-black lightsaber already ignited and extended to his side. He was the Overlord of the Shrouded Republic, that enigmatic, hermit nation, known for its ferocity towards its enemies and its mysterious secret societies, which had aligned with the God-King, Mythos, for unfathomable reasons.

Ten Wolfguards flanked him, five on each side. They walked in silence, same as their master, drawing their vibroswords in a single, fluid motion, as if they were all the extensions of the same mind. The only sound they made, was that of their tattered wolfcloaks snapping in the wind.

Ahead was a group of the Eye's greatest warriors and priests. The God-King himself was leading their party, followed by the Matador, a pair of Anubian priests, the Sith lady Asteria deWinter and that strange enchantress, Braith Achlys. Several soldiers walked with them, but those were the notable names in the group.

Wolfe and his soldiers fell upon the skeletal abominations just as they clawed themselves out of the ground. The Overlord's lightsaber swished through the air, crackling black blade melting through the decayed, ancient stormtrooper armor and putrid bones of one undead. He struck with purpose and precision, as did his men, making their way towards their allies in silence, as they were known to do. There were no war cries, no battle hymns or wordless shouts of rage, only the cold, unwavering, mechanical discipline of hardened warriors who knew by instinct what they had to do.

 

[Kalyn Tal'verda]

It was finally time to begin the hunt. Lyra took a few PMC's and made her way into the tainted forests. She quickly put some gogles down over her eyes, they were thermal goggles designed to allow her to see through the whiteout conditions. The foxes stood out like lights on a life day tree, she was about to have a field day. The PMCs would keep the barbarians away from her while she chased down the small little foxes. They were cute little things, it almost made Lyra sad that she had to taze them. Almost.

The wind was still blowing with an intense fervor, this was abnormal for this planet, and especially this time of year, she had never seen a blizzard like this, and it was summer, which made it all the stranger. The black ice was even more odd, every body of water froze with a sickly black ice, the ground became encased in it. Nothing made sense anymore. It was like a surreal false reality, like nothing made any sense. This "force disturbance" weirder her out, she wanted it gone.

Finally she came across a heat signature, looked just like one of those foxes, she aimed her net gun and fired. However it just seemed to pop out of reality, swirling into nothingness. This might be harder than she thought.

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

​

Post #2​

Attn: [member="Asteria deWinter"] | [member="Mythos"] | [member="Braith Achlys"] | [member="The Matador"] | [member="Sekhet-ka-nefer"] | [member="Zet Anaa"]​

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• Objective B
  Near the Peak, Haven

A shambling abomination reached out with yellowed, bony fingers. Wolfe's hand extended and the Darkside briefly flared around him. The undead creature was ripped to pieces by an unseen telekinetic blast, skull and ribcage flying in different directions, showering the slushy mud under their feet, with bones.

Following his injury during the Battle of Tund, the Overlord had spent some time away from the public as he recovered, with the one notable exception being the Confederate invasion of Tatooine, where he had led his mighty fleet against the Galactic Empire, a first large-scale naval engagement for Wolfe's forces. But Kainan Wolfe never rested, even when recovering from his injuries. So, he had spent that time studying, furthering his knowledge of the Force with the assistance of his friend and teacher, Rath Exigo. The training had clearly paid off, as demonstrated by the Overlord's unnatural speed when dodging his next attacker, a move followed by a swift flurry of his lightsaber that dispatched the creature.

Together with the ten Wolfguards, Wolfe swept across the flank of the party, falling upon the undead from behind, easily dispatching several groups of the pitiful abominations. The midnight-black blade of his lightsaber flashed this way and that, occasionally accompanied by a telekinetic blast, or an arc of Force Lightning.

 

[Formorta]

Objective: A clear out the camps and cover capture team
Post: 3
Allies: [member="Lyra Sarn"] [member="Aeron Tosh"]

With nothing more to the the PMC's moved out, going ahead of Lyra's company heading for the nearest savager camp, each small squad breaking off to there designated paths. Formota hoping Aeron could handle his detachment well enough to keep the capture team safe from any roaming marauders, he was a good agent and hacker but she had yet to see the mans combat capabilities.

Moving into the dark night the sniper disappearing from the view of other, aside from the immediate member accompanying her, the snowing atmosphere providing the perfect cover for their troops advancement into the unknown enemy controlled land. The group of 5 continued their trek, suddenly stopping as the pale woman raised her right hand in a clenched fist, the other PAC' Op's agent halting, kneeling down in a defensive semi circle, continuing to follow Foromrta in with caution.

Soon cresting a hill, the squad having a good vantage point over the decently defensive raider camp, hand signals, spread out, silencers, shoot to kill, no survivors. The other members did not reply, nor even give a hit of acknowledgment they knew what to do and how to go around it, each slithering off to their own vantage point about the soon to be cultists ridden camp site.

 

[Asteria deWinter]

Objective: The Mystery of the Peak, Follow the Trail ( B )
Post: 4

Her vines continued to protect her as she moved ahead, rising and ripping through the skeletons in her wake as the others handled their own paths. She grew tired of the dead disrupting their mission all too quickly though Asteria's emotions rarely rose, they decreased and when they decreased, ice followed. As she exhaled an icy breath, her patience fleeting as her vines ripped another skeleton in her wake, she reached further into the Earth, causing the ground to shake as further roots spread, forming into a vilent attack ahead, slamming into skelletons even just rising from the ground.

Her mind reached high up into the Force as she moved, the roots retracting as she moved.'They will not stop me,' she began, 'I am the Scion of Darkness, the blood of Sorceress and Warriors before me, the Mistress of Elements. You will not stop me, not here, not now,' her hand outstretched, her fingers wrapping together as a vine grabbed the neck of a skeleton approaching her, squeezing it until its skull rolled over as another vine mimicked the wave of her hand, hitting the body aside.

[member="Mythos"] [member="The Matador"] [member="Zet Anaa"] [member="Sekhet-ka-nefer"] [member="Braith Achlys"] [member="Kainan Wolfe"]​

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

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Post #3​

Attn: [member="Asteria deWinter"] | [member="Mythos"] | [member="Braith Achlys"] | [member="The Matador"] | [member="Sekhet-ka-nefer"] | [member="Zet Anaa"]​

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• Objective B
  Near the Peak, Haven

Looking upon the field of battle with narrowed eyes, Wolfe's anger rose with each enemy he cut down. He despised these abominations that would stand in the way, delaying him from his objective, but he knew that, like many things in life, battle required patience. Nevertheless, he did not want to waste any more time than was necessary, so he flashed a series of quick hand signals to his troops, which fanned out and began lobbing concussion grenades at groups of skeletal enemies, as they were coming out of the ground.

Transferring his lightsaber to his left hand, his right arm rose up in front of him and the Darkside energies gathered around him, swirling like a vortex and erupting into a wild manifestation of Force Lightning, obliterating a few of the undead abomination as it connected with their bones.

Switching the lightsaber back into his right hand, he performed a graceful pirouette just as a group of skeletal walkers charged him, the midnight-black blade in his hand, dancing its deadly dance and parting skeletal heads from skeletal shoulders, in a well-executed Ataru maneuver. Left hand extended forward, another telekinetic blast connected with a group of incoming skeletons, sending them sprawling to the floor, some of the more fragile ones disintegrated, others merely dazed. Wolfe charged them, lightsaber twirling in a figure-eight, dismembering them in quick succession and putting an end to their centuries of torment.

 

[Kalyn Tal'verda]

As the Fox Hunt got underway, and the Force Sensitives neared the peak, ruminations beyond their comprehention began to manifest. An ancient evil had awoken. A mass of the tormented souls that had become lost on the world, an amalgamation of the thousands of dead souls that never made it to their destination. It hungered for more souls constantly, intentionally drawing unsuspecting spacers to the system in order to ensure their slow painful death, before absorbing their souls into itself. This beast was an incomprehensible evil. It knew no emotion but pain, no feeling but suffering. They called it Babel.

In instance everyone near the peak would hear a loud shriek, and a booming noise. Coming from the highest point of the mountain the world started rapidly changing, the barrier between their world and Babels became thin. Within 3 seconds the entire planet had been engulfed into Babels world. The skies turned into the blackest black, the ground became twisted and strange, like a distortion of the world they were on before. Sharp black ice spires jutted from various locations, if one looked into them they could see the tormented souls of the damned. The terrain became jagged and strange, lightning fell from the skies with great frequency and vigor. This was a sick world.

Those on the peek would realize something odd, the tip of the mountain had dissapeared. Now there was nothing but a deep, dark pit. It was not empty. Suddenly a massive hand put itself on the ledge, shaking the very earth Party B stood on. Then a massive beast pulled itself up its sickening head looked like a skull with no mouth, eyes, or nose, the head was the size of a small starship. As it continued to pull itself up one thing became clear, this thing was massive. It was the size of a medium sized mountain. As it came up it made an ear piercing shriek, it boomed through the valleys of the world of Haven. It would take the combined efforts of the force users to stop this beast.

The fox team would find even more sickening sights; the vikings had dissapeared, but they were not gone. They had been replaced by something worse. Sickening creatures with glowing white eyes and long claws for fingers. They were strange creatures who wanted only one thing, to consume the souls of the poor mortals. They would need to fight to survive.

This was the final test. They would have to meet the challenge, or die.

Spoiler: Babel

Spoiler: "Vikings"

 

[Ellie Mors]

Straight Out The Gate

Post 4
Objective B

There were few that walked the path that the spear-bearer had taken, and few of even those did she consider a peer with the sword and spear - much less with her footwork and synergy with the force. Telekinetic force erupted with every sidestep, every turn and bend, the mere tilt of her head knocked the dead from the dirt to be impaled on the end of her spear, a bend of the knee forcing the skeletal wretches from her side to allow her the reach she needed to hew through their bodies with the bladed edge of her weapon. A veritable maelstrom of fury, of unapologetic rage, cut through body after body, dead and undying, with not the slightest hint of remorse or concern on her face. Drawing on her time with the Aing-Tii from her time living as the individual that had carried the same name as she, Braith caught glimpses of the future as she strode forwards and towards the peak of the mountain. [member="Mythos"] was doing well enough to draw the ire of whatever it was that had unleashed these abominations, but there was no being - divine or otherwise - that the tribal soldier saw as above herself.

The whisper of a laugh escaped from her lips as the entity that, from the inside, resembled herself emerged. It was as she was, a body that housed the lives of a thousand others, a contradiction that walked the planes of reality to consume and persist or perish. There was a stark difference, of course - where she had been formed by the will of another, born from the efforts to revive a singular woman that had died being consumed by a creature far worse than that which she faced now, this being was the corruption of a thousand souls that simply never made it to the great beyond to be reborn as a single entity of anger and envy. Unlike she, who had been confined to a single vessel constructed for the purpose of housing her, this being stood at a massive height that towered many hundreds of times larger than she. There was a danger that came with such a size, making it far too difficult for she to strike it down as she would have anyone else of a far more reasonable size, but she recognized that it would be equally difficult for it to return her to the abyss that she had emerged from.

"At last, a challenge rears its ugly head." She said, slamming the base of her spear into the ground beside her whilst she lifted one of her hands in a gesture to the sky, clouds graying in answer.

"A demon that believes itself a god."

The words were heavy with loathing, acknowledging its arrival with a contemptuous sneer. She dropped her raised hand like a hammer striking an anvil, followed shortly thereafter by an earsplitting crack that echoed throughout the sky - the telltale sound of thunder, a sign of the lightning that was soon to come, and an echo of her mythological past.

 

[Thraxis]

Objective: I'm not sure if we are even catching Foxes anymore.
Post: Third
Loadout: Cruciatus Blade

Chapter 27: A Wise Man knows when to Run

He had signed up for catching Foxes. Why was catching foxes never easy? One minute they're there, the next you have been bagged and dragged. Of course, it seemed that for once things didn't pan out that way, well it did. But hell that was life huh? It would throw a curveball, then ya caught it the end. Well, Life had thrown three curveballs, one he was aware of, two he was not. But he rolled along with the punches, he held himself with all the enthusiasm of a dead puppy that was tossed against a wall. Long steps drew back and forth as the Viking towering beast strumpeted around the ring, confidence was nothing more than a constant ring in the lumbering beast's throat as the crowd jeered and cheered. It wasn't a sizeable crowd, looked like the dredges who finished work early at the most. Thraxis was like a cornered rats in his movements, the first pounce of the cat landed the blade a few inches from the wooden wall, his body curled and rolled out of the way as the rat nipped at the back of the knee with a sharp kick. No effect.

The man followed, hunched over, something was strange though, his fingers seemed to slowly elongate, snow beneath Thraxis feet shifting as the clanging of the gate behind him slowly seemed to almost peel itself away from existence in a misty haze as the chains fell with a thud. His sword slowly rolled between fingers, the taint of the force shifting in the towering oaf's hands as he took a few more steps back. Things were taking a dire turn as eyes once emboldened like a sea of algae twisted into hollowed white eyes. The cheering of the crowd slowly morphed from that of jubilance to a dark choir of melancholy. Things were shaping far worse than Thraxis anticipated and had felt the dark chilling sound of his conscience echo in the back of his mind. "Run." It said in a soft whisper, with a thudding repetition as the beasts back hunched, the sword grew loose in its deathful claws as it fell with a clang. Right now, that sword seemed to be his best form of protection as with unnatural movements the crowd started to shit and almost swim between the seats. Thraxis made a quick dive for the sword, body long and clutching at the hilt as a single mournful blackened finger pierced the back of his body, his leg pierced through with little resistance offered. He had felt the mournful sting of death before and this was no different as he snapped around with a turn, the blade lodging itself in its gullet before wretching back, he didn't take time to see if Innards even came out, more or less breaking into a dart through the fallen gates where two more of these things waited in silent jubilation, their heads bobbed as if they were schoolgirls giggling about crushes yet no sound rolled from whatever black hole might have once existed on their face.

Their fingers ran along his skin in perfect unison, his jagged necrotic flesh peeling and shifting as blood ran along their freshly grown fingers, but he had no time to waste. He had been dragged into some Cthulian horror film and was more unprepared than a character in that universe. They at least had a suit. But nonetheless, with a dive and a crashing roll he didn't waste time turning back, a weird cacophony of clicks and hoots persisted behind him as he ran down that familiar hall. That Viking he had dealt with before had seemingly not undergone the rigours of transformation and a few torches remained to persist in burning light. Thraxis took no time to stop and make pleasantries, instead of rushing past him as the moans of the almost dead were ringing along the bars of their cages.

"Oh, running away, sorry to... say..." Thraxis didn't turn to see what horrors, he heard iron meet flesh and flesh meet bone in a song that lasted less than a dozen seconds. But Thraxis wasn't one to wait and find out. The sounds of the miserable were quickly softened and hushed in a single heartbeat as Thraxis made the first turn, for once he turned behind> They weren't immediatly behind him, but then again, he was fairly sure they had yet to turn the corner.

 

[Darth Aegis]

Objective: A [Clear Out Camps]
Post: #1

​

Aegis admits even to himself that saying you enjoy slaughter can make things awkward. However, he couldn't control his appeal to such an action. He felt relief when he performed the final sweep of death on someone. It was like diminishing a large pressure. This objective of the dominion fit Aegis perfectly, and he would use his capabilities to complete it well. Aegis was somewhat late, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to contribute as much as everyone else.

He'd land in his freighter, several miles away from one of the camps he would be attacking. The steel ramp in the back of his freighter would release steam and then begin slowly moving downwards until it touched the surface. Aegis would pull his speeder bike down the ramp and onto the ground. He'd put on leg over and sit down, while activating it. The activation would begin the hovering of the bike.

Aegis would speed off towards the coordinates of the camp, preparing his saber.