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

[Formorta]

Objective: A clear out the camps and cover capture team
Post: 2
Allies: [member="Lyra Sarn"] Hunting [member="Aeron Tosh"]?? [member="Darth Aegis"] Just arriving

One red eye looked down the scope of a rifle, cross hairs over her first target, figure slowly hovering over the trigger, it was a little easier then expected, but was else would you get from a bunch of half trained savages living in tent, DEMONS OF COURSE. No sooner had Formorta lined up her shot and the entire world seemed to change, an evil even she could feel enveloping the area, more sinister then any Sith Lord she had fought.

The target and its surrounding comrades morphed into some unholy beings, thing that even she would call a monster. Flat blank eye that looked to be starring into ones soles, long drooping hands of untold use, fleshy parts hanging of then, and hunched back similar to a mutant. ".... that is a problem... lets see how they like slugs", a normal person may have hesitated, wondered about what to do, maybe even panic, Fomorta was not that, pulling down on the trigger like any other target.

Over the use of her extra 4 arms no recoil was felt as the OL sniper rifle fired, a light muffle being the only thing to hear with the stealth equipment at play. A .308 round of hard metal flying through the air at super sonic speed towards the demons head, after all such a beast was only deserving of death.

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

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Post #4​

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

The mists parted, revealing a mass of squirming abominations, the color of putrid flesh, writhing like worms. No, not a mass of creatures. Just the fingers of a single one. The eldritch horror that was Babel, towered over everyone, like a titanic embodiment of death, letting out an ear-splitting shriek that was otherworldly and terrifying, emulating the nightmarinsh horrors of legends and myth.

Wolfe did not waste any time. He flashed a series of hand signals, silently commanding his men to fan out and draw their slugthrower rifles, as he took the center, slowly and purposefully walking towards the creature, midnight-black lightsaber ignited and held to his side, diagonally. It was a testament of their discipline and training, that they did not even flinch at the sight of the creature.

A shroud of Darkside energy radiated out from the Overlord as he slowly extended his free, left hand. It swirled and squirmed, growing in strength and surrounding the entire area under an oppressive atmosphere of death, hatred and despair. With a crack like that of a tree snapped in half by a malevolent lightning strike, a midnight-black spear coalesced in Wolfe's extended hand. To look upon it, was to feel the cold, dreadful touch of death. This was the Overlord's most powerful technique of manipulating and channeling the Force: the legendary Darkshear. And its clear shape and oppressive presence was a sign of Wolfe's near mastery of the rare technique.

Spear in one hand and lightsaber in the other, the Overlord stopped at a distance of a hundred meters from the monster. He spoke in a tone as cold as ice, his posture defiant, his eyes carrying the promise of inevitable pain and death and despair. "So, the source of the disturbance finally graces us with its presence. Come, then, creature. Your destiny is to die here, today. There is no point in delaying it any further," he proclaimed. Then, as the Wolfguards opened fire, he raised the unnatural spear and threw it at his prey.

 

[Ravenfire]

Objective: B
Allies: Unknown
Enemies: Skeletons
[member="Darth Tacitus"], [member="Braith Achlys"], [member="Mythos"], [member="Asteria deWinter"], [member="The Matador"], [member="Sekhet-ka-nefer"], [member="Zet Anaa"]
Waking up near a peak, not remembering why or how he got their. Seeing some force under attack he gets up to help them. Well their not currently trying to kill me lets see what they are fighting. Finding out it was skeletons, pulling out his E-11 blaster firing off a few shots trying to help out with this group. That's when he saw something, he had never thought he ever see a horror like that he heard later called Babel. It was so crazy it must be because of the force, it was the only thing crazy enough to create a creature like this.

 

[Kalyn Tal'verda]

The beast let out a mighty shriek as the skies darkened around its form. It was a monster presence in the force overpowering it would be incredibly difficult, but not impossible for a group of powerful force users. It felt the mass of force energy flowing into its combatants, and identifying the biggest threat, swung a massive hand at [member="Darth Tacitus"]. It needed to stop that spear of darkness, which while that would not kill it, would hurt like hell. However in order to do this it would most likely have to take the whatever was being summoned by [member="Braith Achlys"]. [member="Mythos"] also scared it, but on a different level. Whatever he was summoning would take time, hopefully longer than it would take for him to rearrange himself for another strike.

As the hand hit the ground it would leave a sizable crater in the mountain, however it was slow and lumbering, and probably could be avoided by anyone faster than your average turtle.

The creature had an odd presence in the force, it was like a million tormented souls molded into one, if you were careful you could hear individual cries for help, and maybe an intelligent soul would listen to them, for they might now how to defeat the creature. The especially observant would hear something very specific from these tormented souls. "Jump in the pit." What was on the other end was unknown, but maybe it would lead to defeating the creature. Maybe it wouldn't. It was their choice to make.

As for the creatures "Vikings" bullets worked well enough on them. They would fall like any other creature when shot enough times.

 

[Celeste Cavataio]

Objective: Get Recruited into the Ancient Eye IC
Location: Magically appearing atop of the peak

Disturbances in the Force were more common than people generally assumed. Celeste had lived for the better part of the last seven hundred years, and had witnessed more of those than she could count. When she'd been a young girl, swimming the rivers of Dathomir, they had always excited her, given her a push, something to pursue. Yet as the years waned and she realized they could happen pretty much every few minutes if one listened carefully enough, their ability to reach her without her listening specifically for them had declined to almost null.

Which was exactly why she was surprised when the she felt the disturbance, and knew it to come from Haven. She could easily sense others in the vicinity, but she had little patience to see how they would and deal with the matter at hand. That is, until she reached the top without disturbance, only to find people of various backgrounds and smells through the Force battling... Were those skeletons?

Gauging the situation, Celeste hand picked the person who was closest to her, and took a good look at the skeletons between them.

"Potere della Forza, la Forza de l'aria," she mumbled, her hands waving lazily around in the air as she cast her spell, "... schiacciare tutto ciò che ostacola la mia strada! Dammi il tuo potere distruttivo! Il mio sarà fatto."

And as though a bunch of pianos fell from the sky on top of their head, the skeletons between her and the person smashed to the ground, shattered in bits and peaces.



(OOC: Celeste cast Force Crush III, a witch spell. I'll let whoever wants to reply to be the person the writing refers to)

 

[Srina Talon]

• Objective B
  Near the Peak, Haven [Standing near to [member="Darth Tacitus"]]

Srina wasn’t certain what her purpose in this was. She had no objective, no purpose, other than to monitor and evaluate the battle prowess of the Ancient Eye. This venture seemed well organized, and yet, what she saw on the various monitors from aboard the Ferocity told her it was anything but simplistic. She had landed in some of the only flat ground suitable for an assault frigate near to the fight, but, with explicit instructions to remain in an observational capacity, she felt as if she were at a loss.

‘I don’t know how I feel about this Master…’, she mentally called to [member="Darth Metus"], white hair glinting, like molten moonlight under the fluorescents. The Mandalorian had not accompanied her physically, but he could always hear her telepathic communications, even if there were systems between them. Their bond was strong no matter what came their way. ‘I don’t like watching. It feels dishonest.’

It was an assessment. They had every faith, that the Eye would be able to accomplish what they had come to do, but they needed a complete picture of their strengths and weaknesses. Tatooine had proven that [member="Darth Tacitus"] was more than proficient among the stars, but it was nice to see him on the ground, in the thick of it. [member="Mythos"] was also a force to behold. In all honesty, she longed to fight beside them, not to simply watch. Wait.

It would drive her insane.

She tensed when she felt a familiar energy, a familiar technique, and realized that Tacitus had created something that Srina had done by accident on Haseria. A Darkshear. At the time, Srina had not known what it was, but she’d wielded it against one who sought to do her Master harm. It had been a thoughtless summoning, instinctual, and brought about by the gravest of circumstances.

Her teeth ground together.

‘If you must go, my Srina, go. I will not stop you.’

She wanted to obey her Master. She wanted to do as he willed—But to wait, safe and sound, while their new allies fought the untold horrors that the sensors reported? It was something she could not do.

The engines of the Ferocity fired back up and she directed the transport to where she felt the strongest concentration of their allies. The ship swung as low as it could, narrowly avoiding a collision with the weather, and the pale Echani disembarked when she had a clear shot. The wind whistled in her ears as she fell, dropping like a stone, and through that endeavor, she used the Force to slow her descent. She didn’t want the bones in her legs snapping like twigs when she made landfall.

The creature the Eye was fighting was like nothing she had ever seen. There were walking skeletons, much like the spirits that had attacked on Haseria, simply more mobile. More bloodthirsty.

The Sith Apprentice landed mere feet from Darth Tacitus, after the creature had swung its massive hand, and her lightsaber activated so that she could effectively join the fray. The skeletons seemed endless, at least from her perspective. Perhaps, there was another way to defeat them.

 

[Formorta]

Objective: A clear out the camps of strange things
Post: 2

Formorta was not sure of the outcome of her shot, would the slug affected the almost rotting crops like creature? would it simply pass through, would it do damage but be only a scratch? Turns out a high calibre sniper round did the trick, her crimson eye seeing the beasts black blood splatter against the ground as said bulled suddenly ripped through its head, the contorted like body slumping to the ground, now missing half a head.

In that moment though Formorta had already reloaded her weapon placing the sights over her next target, catching it in mid reaction to it, comrade? she was unsure of hose their 'things' treated one another. Regardless it was too late, another supersonic round once again found it's mark, drilling a hole clean through the targets head once more, the force of the round making it do a back flip like maneuver.

Unfortunately, that would be that last shot, the odd black beasts suddenly springing into action, taking rather aggressive action, dodging left and right at random, each heading out in different directions, "... moving targets, fun". With the erratic behaviour of the beast she had not time to watch if the slugs hit, the masked assassin falling into a fire, re-aim fire like pattern, switching from target to target in attempt to contain the threat.

 

[Celeste Cavataio]

Objective: Get rid of all these skellies
Location: Top of the Mountain
Posts: 2

It had not been enough. She could feel the ticks of time passing, almost agonizingly slowly, as around her the carnage with the undead resumed. Celeste looked around, taking in the faces of those who were present, now that she had a small breather before something else would attack her. The Witch Elder had known many years in the 'verse, having lived in clone after clone. It was only a few decades ago when malfunctions began to happen, her clones no longer looking like her, that she had to trade the body she was in, in return for one that was nearly the opposite of what she had spent centuries in.

In many ways, this had made her a stranger to the rest of the Galaxy, who had never seen her in this face before. Yet, she did not now most of the Galaxy either, having lived most of her existence out on Dathomir.

So these people, they were strangers.

Under normal circumstances, she would not have moved to help them. But these were not circumstances, were they? The Force was shifting in ways that would be lethal, too lethal, if it went unchecked.

Down to her knees she sank, her hands touching the cold snow. Her warm coat would be no protection to the bare skin that touched the icicles, as she began to murmur her Spell of Focus. She needed to gather more strength, to tap into the Force in ways she had not approached in centuries. In her heart, she had to believe that this would be for the protection of Dathomir, for the protection of her clans, for the protection of that very little in the 'verse that she actually cherished.

Time no longer passed through her consciousness. The hairs on her arms rose in response to her deeds, realizing the amount of power, raw power, that she was stealing. Her little move would cost her much, and all too soon. But there was no other way that she could muster, no other option that she could think of.

"Allya, give me strength," she prayed, "and give me luck. Give me One who will make the final move when I have cleared the fields and removed all obstacles but one. Allya, hear me. Allya, fulfill my will. Allya, protect those who follow you."

Celeste screamed. It was a rehash of the Force of Crush spell she had performed earlier, yet now it returned, strong ten times fold. She had spent long, agonizing minutes in the snow, gathering her power up so that she could bring down the Wrath from the skies, landing it with all her might atop of the skeletons.

Near her and far from her, the skeletons were crushed. Not a single exposed bone remained upon the mountain top that was still functioning, still whole.

Celeste sighed, nearly falling down in the snow as the exhaustion began to settle in the bones that were her own.

 

[Thraxis]

Objective: There are no Objectives. Only Resolution
Post: Fourth? Fifth? One or the other don't have time to check.
Loadout: A poorly made Loin Cloth, a Cruciatus Blade and a pocket filled with wonder.

Chapter 28: And a Fool when to charge​

Sweat furled and poured down his brow. How long had he run? Hell, how long till a rescue was mounted? He had hoped soon the thrill of surviving on his own was not one he looked too with great joy. Hell, he loathed it. If only the Gammoreans hadn't been stuck in a better place and he could trust them to aid him. But alas, it seemed no such rescue was to come, and all that awaited him was the call of death addled behind him, skeletons? Monsters? Hell, creatures at their beast paced and slaughtered their way behind him as the corridors became almost lucid movements as he darted between columns, the occasional claw shifting between bars before finally getting a hang of the swing of the blade.

But hope existed in any corner, not that he admitted it, as he turned more corners, left, right, left and up a flight of stairs the wash of cold became that slight tinge more present. Flakes of frost yet to boil and pop started to fester the halls, at first stained red with the blood of these long corridors victims, but as time passed, it shifted, red became a tinged pink than a tinged white before the crystals of snow were all that was left and the lit torches were slowly snuffed out by the cold. And Thaxis felt that cold, the sting as it ran along festering wounds, necrotic flesh and pustulant boils it was enhanced, his sensation maddening as he turned one final corner, and there it Salvation hid. Sure it was behind a wooden door with a crude lock, but there was always a way through any door and he had just the tools in hand.

Charging.​

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He charged the thing with the full might of his body, wood bending and snapping as it bent back, his body forced back with a heavy pull s the sounds of claws scraping against the ground and laughter pursing through sewn lips pervaded his rear, fear fueling his steps as he pulled himself up. No time to wi[e the sweat or hype himself up, he simply charged again, bounced back and one final charge as he felt the needle-like fingers claw at his ankles before finally that damnable door budged, slid and cracked open, Thraxis rolling out to see what fresh horrors had unfurled in the tie he had been gone.

Chapter 29: What horrors hell had wrought​

Finally. He felt it, that rush of mania leave him giddy, the fresh wail of snow prickled his skin as up a festered mountain rose death itself. he had finally found the bugger. The thing he was fairly sure was more attached to him than his shadow loomed and a force storm rolled and swayed, his fingers tightened, he looked behind him, the Skeletons pursued but there was a greater challenge. With the blade in hand, he began the march, a furious series of steps crushing the snow beneath him, as everything he had done, everything he had experienced in some sense led up to this damnable thing. He had been bested by Rancors, Force Users, Lugubra, Gammoreans and everyone else under the sun. But this? No, he was sure this thing had ruined his day. It hadn't, he was the one who made the mistake of landing on the planet, getting sloppy and caught, looted of his equipment but this thing turned the Vikings to Skeletons and was sure as hell about to run it through. All that could be heard, as he charged headlong up the base of the mountain, armed with a Sword, a Loin Cloth to cover his genitalia and a pocket of wonder was the screams of a man pissed, tired and ready to call it a day. Thraxis was coming. He didn't care about the journey anymore. Nor the climax of the story. He just wanted this day done, to get into a ship, have a drink and go to bed. "Raaaaaaaaaghghghgh!" An incomprehensible speech was all that followed in his wake of destruction and arrogance. All that followed. Was anger.

 

[Celeste Cavataio]

Objective: Damnit [member="Thraxis"] why did you bring more skeletons with you?!
Location: Top of the Mountain
Posts: 3

She heard the sounds of bones against floor and ground long before she could actually gather the physical strength needed to raise her head and see them with her eyes. All she wanted to do was lay down in a fetus position in the snow and let her eyelids close, to give herself over to that sweet embrace of oblivious sleep. But she couldn't. Not yet. For a stranger had come, sprouting out like a Warrior in ancient tales, screaming as nothing but a small loincloth covered his privates.

And there were more enemies behind him.

Had she more strength left within her, she would have torn the earth open behind him and let the skeletons drop into the abyss. Alas, there was no time to ponder, or even attempt to muster the amount of Force she would need to do that.

Her breath labored as she picked up the residue of her earlier Spell of Force Crush. Just one more. She had to do it. She could not let her thoughts linger as to whether this was a good idea or a smart idea at all, could not waste time thinking on the price she would have to pay for such action.

The words in ancient Dathomirian escaped her lips as she hang on with very inch of her will to live, to be alive, to leave this place alive still.

And the skeletons behind the man were crushed as well, leaving nothing but dust where they moments ago were running.

With a gasp, Celeste fell face flat into the snow, praying to Allya that this was enough. That this would do. That this would give the Hero in the Loincloth what he needed to complete the quest. For she had nothing left to give.

 

[Thraxis]

Objective: There are no Objectives. Only Resolution
Post: Either Fifth or Six. One or the other don't have time to check.
Loadout: A poorly made Loin Cloth, a Cruciatus Blade and a pocket filled with wonder.

Chapter 30: Ventilation​

His eyes grew mad with the promise of rest. He didn't notice the creatures fall silent in a deaf dance of force and raw power. He couldn't care, the thing before him towered himself a hundred fold at least. But he had scaled mountains. He trod through the snow as if it never impeded him, as if he danced with the grace of a cat, except this one was driven with wanton desire, as he approached, he crossed past some Witchy Elder, his eyes and vision blurred with hypothermia as muscle memory was all that drove him, words becoming somewhat more audible and... Well. Words. "I am sick of this day." He screamed, passing whatever skeletons with mighty swings or daring vaults these force users couldn't see a key weakness. Something every creature hopefully had and he doubted this to be any different. Did it have eyes? Not maybe in the literal sense, but its face was a structure for a purpose, if eyes once existed there, then they connected to a brain.

He didn't care how much of a god you might have proclaimed yourself to be. It had a brain.​

​

His fingers bled from the grip and the sharp needle like the sensation of snow bashing against his body as he came to its legs, stalagmites of tears rolled solid down his face as some substance close to froth rolled from between his teeth. This thing exuded dark energies, he felt his breath choked out of his lungs, but he had experienced that a thousand times before. the Graveyard was no different. Sith Inbreds were everywhere and if he had been force choked once he had it happen a thousand times.

He came to the foot of the beast, blade in hand he began to scale, he moved with more grace than a lion tackling an elephant, he had made this dance before. The blade was more or less a pickaxe in his hand, his body bouncing and dancing on tiny crevices formed in the massive creatures stature. He was like an ant, all he need was to find where to latch, and if he couldn't he would jab his sword in and make one, pulling himself up with nothing but a single necrotic arm before lunging higher. If one didn't know any better he might have seen like some sort of Sith with how he seemed to ferment the Dark Side, and how natural the speed and dance of motion rolled between his muscle joints.

"I, am sick of this day." His words morbid and cold as he scaled, maybe to land on deaf ears but he needed to vent. "First, I crash land on the planet, and a woman, I barely know dies." He grumbled and a curse, a healthy heaping of bloody murders sprinkled for good measures as he danced up again, sword meeting bone as he cracked a couple times through to get the message across. "Than, I am stuck in some bloody tundra, looking for Foxes, I am fairly certain don't exist." He continued, another bounce, another dance and another hacked job as he assailed its torso, "I request assistance. No one comes, oh wait, no someone does come. Some bear of a man I can't fight. Yeah, that's right, was that you're doing you an overgrown mass of bones?" He inquired with flat disinterest another rinse and repeat as he assails further, shifting to its back so its arms couldn't reach. "Than I am looted, bullied and insulted. That's great fun you over-bloated, egotistical arrogant skeleton freak." He continued, a softspoken chuckle as he insulted this thing, not quite to its face but the back of its neck. He raised a blade, lancing his feet onto the tiniest of jutting bone as he severed into its nape, sticking the handle of the blade between his tongue as he dove in, he was like a maggot, crawling through flesh as garbled words jumble, by the fact the handle was stuck between his teeth didn't stop him venting. "Than, when I think, I can just beat them up, you turn them into skeletons who are dicks." He crawled through metres of flesh, climbing and scaling bone where he could before he finally reached the apex, cutting through a thin veneer of flesh before he saw it, pulsating above him far larger than himself, the brain of this whole operation. he withdrew his sword, walked up at the finest of paces as his final words were drawn. "Hello, Bastard. My name is Thraxis. You ruined my day. Prepare to die." And with a single brandish, a single slash and a final, drained charge he ran headlong, A flurry of spinning slices, severing cuts and unrefined anger as he dove headlong into this things brain. He didn't feel it lurch, he didn't feel it bend. Hell for all he knew, Hypothermia was kicking in, his final moments drained of all and he laid sat in the snow simply imagining what is transpiring. or maybe he did it. Maybe he finally got some small victory in life, killing the big bad, avenging his day and finish it off with a single high dosage bottle of alcohol.

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

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Post #5​

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

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• Objective B
  Near the Peak, Haven

Jump into the pit, the voices said. Wolfe smirked. He wasn't one for doing what he was told and had a penchant for surprises. He would not disappoint this time, either. Jumping sideways like a cat and rolling to avoid the monster's outstretched hand, he swiftly got back on his feet, just in time to call the cold currents of the Darkside to him.

However, this time it was not a Spear of Midnight Black that his mind summoned. Reaching out, with both his hand and his mind, he sent out his will, to the skeletons which had been cut down around him. He decided to try something he had picked up from one of the books in his library, an ancient Sith spell which most necromancers were well versed in.

Closing his eyes as a frown of concentration settled on his face, his lips parted to spit out the rough, grating words of the ritual, the timing and inflection perfect, each word filled with hatred, each word like a slavemaster's whip. Reaching beyond the veil of the mortal realm, he once again grasped for the spirits of the long dead soldiers, seizing them and shackling them to his will, enslaving them and forcing them back into their decrepit bodies, this time to do his bidding.

All around him, the Wolfguards fired their rifles at the incoming Vikings, keeping them away from their Overlord, while beneath his feet, the bones stirred. With unearthly wails of pain and anguish, the dead rose from the ground to do Wolfe's bidding, supernatural slaves who's existence consisted only of torment. Opening his eyes, the Overlord pointed a finger to the pit and spoke only a single word. "Fetch."

The tormented beings he had conjured shambled forwards in a clumsy run, jumping over the edge with no consideration of what lay beyond, for they were bound to obey their master's every command.

 

[Kalyn Tal'verda]

When the skeletons were thrown into the pit they started falling, every sense being sent back to Wolfe. They felt as if they were falling for hours, floating in blackness, nothing to see, nothing to do, however to everyone outside it was quite clear that it was only a few moments at most. Eventually, there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and then they hit the ground. However when they hit the ground they did not die, or even feel pain, they just hit the ground, nothing more.

They were now in a white bedroom made in the victorian style, completely sterile, completely clean. Sitting at a white leather chair, in front of a white coffee table, was a young looking man. He stared off into the distance, a so called "Thousand Yard Stare." He merely looked at the skeletons with not a hint of amusment, before looking back into nothing. He merely muttered rather disconcertedly: "Oh. Visitors."

The voices inside the beast of babel grew louder, more tormented. JUMP IN THE PIT, they screamed, stopping just short of flat out demanding it, these souls were fighting the creature of which they were composed of, their torment echoed through the force like a tidal wave. They wanted freedom from the beast. They wanted to die. They would do anything to be granted that release.

[member="Darth Tacitus"]

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

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Post #6​

Attn: [member="Asteria deWinter"] | [member="Mythos"] | [member="Braith Achlys"] | [member="Sekhet-ka-nefer"] | [member="Zet Anaa"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Lyra Sarn"]​

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• Objective B
  Near the Peak, Haven

The man that was the Overlord of the Shrouded Republic did not get to where he was in life, by being an airhead who didn't notice things, or an idiot. He knew well that there were moments in life when every detail mattered and when decisions had to be made in a split-second. As much as he disliked going on gut instinct, preferring instead the control of careful planning, there was no time for that now. He had to act quickly, else the monster they were fighting would destroy them. Looking to his side, to where Srina Talon stood, he nodded to her, a single, simple gesture that conveyed with it the unspoken words of an entire conversation. Whatever was the thing at the bottom of the pit, whether it was a ghost, or something else, it held the only chance at survival. And they needed to act quickly.

Not looking back, Wolfe took a running jump and plunged into the darkness. It was a situation where one had to make a risky choice, or face certain death. In the end, it was not a choice at all. The Wolfguards fanned out as their Overlord ran towards the edge of the cliff, firing their rifles, switching to vibroswords when the vikings came too close. They fought valiantly, in a coordinated fashion, their silent choreography flawless. They covered eachother and threw themselves at the enemy in moves and maneuvers that had been planned and rehearsed a thousand times, giving everything they had so that their leader may live and get the job done. Three of them died then, just like that, but death did not frighten them, for in the end, only one thing made their sacrifice matter. That their leader would live and get the job done. It was a covenant that they had made with him and never had any of them even considered breaking it.

Wolfe fell through the darkness for what seemed like an eternity. Around him, there was nothing. His whole existence was nothing. Here, there was no time, or space, no heat or cold, no up or down, only an endless nothing that went on and on and on in ann eternal moment that stretched out for ever, yet did not exist at all, a paradox that could only exist here, in this strange pocket of existence.

He landed on his feet, or rather, he was in one place, then in another, transitioning from one state to another in an instant, in a way which made complete sense in this strange realm, yet would be incomprehensible the moment he stepped out from it. He stood facing the strange spirit on the couch, his eyes cold, calculating, revealing nothing. "I am Kainan Wolfe," he spoke, after measuring the creature in front of him for what seemed and in this place, was, an eternity, "Overlord of the Shrouded Republic. Those are my compatriots up there who are dieing under the claws of those creatures and I assume we have you to thank for that," he said.

 

[Srina Talon]

• Objective B
  Near the Peak, Haven [Standing near to [member="Darth Tacitus"]]
• Other Tags: [member="Asteria deWinter"] | [member="Mythos"] | [member="Braith Achlys"] | [member="Sekhet-ka-nefer"] | [member="Zet Anaa"] | [member="Lyra Sarn"]

Srina moved carefully, defending Wolfe from his flank, while he dealt with the larger beast. Without warning the Sith Lord beside her began to pull on the fibers of the dark to utter a ritual that she did not recognize. The Apprentice of Darth Metus listened, learned, but remained ever in motion. She was little more than a displacement of air, white light saber blinding as it flashed through skeletons, bringing down the immediate threats she could. The creature, the monster, which kept taking swipes at them was another story entirely. She honestly wished she’d kept the Ferocity closer. It had enough firepower to sink starships—It would have certainly given this beast reason to pause.

Before her eyes [member="Darth Tacitus"], whom she fondly referred to by his given name, reanimated some of the skeletons that had been cut down. They shambled, stumbling, running over themselves to obey, and dove into the cavernous pit that seemed to be calling to the force sensitives present. She could hear it, just the others, whispering, murmuring… Lord Kainan caught her eye. His eyes were dark, expressive, and often spoke louder than his words. ‘We go down.’

The white-haired woman rolled beneath the massive hand of the monster that sought to ensnare her, time slowing briefly, before she followed the Overlord into the abyss. Her faith in him was strong, oddly enough, from their few meetings. She knew his strength. The trusted his instincts just as well as her own. Death echoed behind them. The Wolfguard. Srina could feel several pass through the ether and into the beyond. Her eyes closed as she fell, silently thanking their sacrifice, as the wind rushing by deafened her.

Eventually, the rushing air seemed to stop and she felt as if she were adrift in an ocean she could not see. Her senses came alive, moments within moments, and she braced herself, using the force to nullify the pressure of her landing. The snowy-haired apprentice kneeled, briefly, clad in crimson and onyx armor. The Scarlet Vow had been a gift from her Master and always served her well. It was always there when she needed it most.

She rose from her position with all the grace and elegance of a little queen. Her footsteps took her forward, placing her beside Kainan Wolfe, and silver eyes flickered over the being seated before them. He looked like a man. Yet, Srina did not trust her eyes. What she saw were pristine and classically decorated quarters of a noble or a politician. White. Everything, was white. She felt like a sore thumb.

Lord Kainan spoke, his words concise, and without hesitation. Srina remained still, barely seeming to breathe, and when she did speak the silence shattered like glass. “…Why?”

Why did this place exist? Why was he here? Why was his monster killing the Shrouded Republic above them? Why? So many questions, such a lack of information. They needed understanding where there was none. She could feel it deep in her bones. This man, this spirit, was the way through.

 

[Salij-Nekt]

Objective: B
Post: 2

Salij-Nekt had been bloodied all over. It was a miracle the Anubian could still even stand at all after having faced so many enemies. And...the monster. Whatever it was. It was something that even the Anubian was afraid of. Even though it was a little bit of fear, it still was something. All of this was most confusing to the bloodied Anubian. But to get past the fear, it focused on one thing; swinging it's pole-ax back and forth to take down all opponents in it's path!

He did not see the beings jump into the pit, or his ally [member="Darth Tacitus"] jump in as well into the pit. Instead it focused on eliminating skeletons and fighting the smaller ones that seemed to be known as 'vikings'. The big monster's size did not help at all with any of that, however. It's size was overwhelming, and Salij was forced to keep his distance and keep to fighting the smaller beings instead. Executing every one of them, but they all proved a worthy challenge. Landing hits, a few that cut deep. After this, no doubt Salij would need much time healing. This only taught Salij more in the terms of combat through pain, the only way he knew how to learn. Through pain and combat.

 

[Kalyn Tal'verda]

The man looked at the two others who had fallen into his own personal hell. He eyed them with cold, dead, gray eyes that showed an eternity of torment under the surface. He stared for a few moments, processing the two humans who had appeared before him. It had been an eternity since he had seen the face of another actual human, and even longer since he had actually spoken to others. He crossed his legs before clearing his throat.

"I do not control the beast, it does as it wishes. I merely keep it here." He said in a dull monotone voice.

"I have been here for longer than any of you have been alive, and much longer than the organizations you represent. Just let it be clear your titles have no meaning here. Nothing has meaning here. We are halfway between alive and dead. Limbo is one way to put it. I call it hell."

He quite slowly and clearly painfully stood up, moving his way over to [member="Darth Tacitus"], walking up close to him, before lightly grabbing his chin, looking into his eyes. He then turned away from the two, staring at a painting on the back wall.

"Yes, I know that feeling coming from you, I felt that same thing within myself who knows how long ago."

The painting on the back wall was completely white, but almost suddenly it started gaining colors, morphing itself into an image, made of various different colors, at the moment they were monotone and gray, but a picture of two men in what appeared to be an ancient spacecraft began to appear.

"I once was a young man like yourself. I was a pilot, among the best in the galaxy. However it was not meant to be, because me and my co-pilot by sheer lack of luck crash landed on this hell hole of a world."

The painting began to shape into a blue, cold depiction of the normal appearance of the world, a snowy alpine forest, however one splotch of red fire emanated from the center.

"I was on the brink of death, sitting next to my co-pilot, we sat there writhing in pain, and then something inside of me clicked, I realized I had never said goodbye to my wife, we had got into a heated argument before I left, and now I would never get to apologize, never get to say I was sorry. The agony of that thought built up and then I did something."

The painting began to morph into a cold depiction of a person having some sort of energy ripped out of them. They were clearly in pain.

"The only way to describe it is that I ripped out my co-pilot's, my close friend's, soul. I used that soul to sustain myself in this place, but he was put into great pain by this act. He was in constant writhing agony. I became stuck half way between dead and alive while he got to spend eternity tormented by my stupid actions. As they say pain is best shared with company, so he started to try and draw others to this place. As he did, he absorbed their souls, joining them to himself. Over time he became the beast that you see today."

The painting turned back to solid white, nothing else evident from it. He then looked [member="Srina Talon"] directly in the eyes.

"Sometimes I wonder which one is really the monster."

He then turned back towards the painting, waiting for a response from the two.

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

​

Post #7​

Attn: [member="Salij-Nekt"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Lyra Sarn"]​

​

• Objective B
  The inbetween place, Haven

Wolfe sighed. He was all too familiar with loss and grief and that was the catalyst which drove him ever forward, towards the singular purpose for which he worked, into which he put everything that he was, that he had, that he was capable of. That was where their similarities ended, for where Wolfe sought to change the galaxy for the better, where his actions, no matter how twisted, served a greater purpose, a greater good, this... spirit, this half-dead abomination who just refused to die, seemed motivated by nothing other than a selfish, insane need to cause others pain.

"And how about all those other innocents who now never get the chance to say goodbye to their spouses. To their children?" he asked, a look of disappointment mixed with a hint of outrage settling on his face. "What purpose does all this serve? Its not even revenge, only pointless, gratuitous cruelty for no sake other than its own."

Stepping forward once, as if to confront this being, as if to carry his point across, the tone of his voice began to rise. "You think you are the only one who suffered loss? You think only you know what pain is? At least you didn't get to watch the only person you ever loved, die in front of your eyes!" he almost shouted at the spirit, not caring that Srina would get to hear something which he had never revealed to anyone, trusting her enough to keep his secret. "At least you didn't watch the woman you loved, being murdered in front of your eyes, while you were unable to do anything," he continued after a brief pause, deflating as he spoke, grief flashing in his eyes.

Regaining his composure after a brief, eternal moment in this strange place where it seemed so difficult to keep his pain under control, he spoke what he hoped would be words of wisdom, that would perhaps convince this spirit to finally accept the truth. "Life is unfair. The galaxy is unfair. And all things must end. What you and your pet are doing here, serves no purpose whatsoever. It doesn't bring your wife back. It doesn't undo the mistake of your friend. It just perpetuates a cycle of suffering for no reason whatsoever."

Above, in a world that seemed so far away from the drama unfolding below, the drama of battle was unfolding. The Wolfguards rallied to the Anubian warrior's sides, closing ranks as the abominable monsters closed in around them and the titan tried to swat them like flies.

 

[Srina Talon]

• Objective B
  Inside the Inbetween, Haven [Standing near to [member="Darth Tacitus"]]
• Other Tags: [member="Asteria deWinter"] | [member="Mythos"] | [member="Braith Achlys"] | [member="Sekhet-ka-nefer"] | [member="Zet Anaa"] | [member="Lyra Sarn"]

Srina was not an exceptionally slow learner. On Eshan she had been top of her class, adept in not only combat, but tactical planning and negotiation. Yet, as this being spoke, she could feel the understanding she had been seeking becoming true, and her mind railed against it. She knew what was being said but she no longer wished to hear it. These answers were disturbing, inhumane, and had created the hulking abomination above them. Her eyes closed while she processed the truth of this place.

The young woman had dropped out of the sky against the wishes of her Master. She could not stand to watch others fight and die when she had the ability to do something about it. Srina did not belong on the sidelines, she did not belong in the crowd, or safe at home. He knew this…And yet his hesitance had remained. Had he known? All along?

Kainan began to speak, the deep baritone of his voice almost startling, and her gaze remained low while his grief boiled through the surface of his skin. She could feel it, her sensitivity presenting flashes of things that had long past, triggered by his cloying emotion. She could feel his agony as if it were more than a vision. She could feel a part of her soul dying with the woman that now lay still. Silent heart. Dead eyes.

Broken. So very, very broken.

Was this the fate of all Sith? Everyone that she came across seemed to have a story that depicted a life of despair and heartache so grievous that it could never be overcome. So the Dark Side swept in, picking up the pieces, or in some cases fanning the flames. It took. It took and it took without seeming to care what happened to the being it decided to take root in. This place of nothingness did not feel dark or light. It truly felt like nothing.

She fell into motion quietly and placed herself between the Sith Lord and the atrocity before them. His eyes met her own. This spirit had not seen anyone real, flesh and blood, in so long. Such a distance from humanity would have no doubt warped the remnants of the man he had once been. “My friend is right. Nothing will ever be made fair.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”, she murmured, honeyed tones soft, almost gentle considering their situation. Where Darth Tacitus emanated a similar pain, a similar sense of having been wronged, the pale-skinned woman exuded something different. She had never given her name. She had never assumed that it mattered. “I’m sorry for the loss of your wife. Your family. The life that you might have had…”

“…But this is not a solution. This existence is not living in any sense. You and your friend have become points of destruction for others that deserve freedom just as much as either of you.”

Since the man had touched Kainan, she assumed, that he could be touched in turn. Where his grasp to the Sith Lord had been blasé and impartial the woman reached up with both hands and lay silken palms on either side of his face. He felt cold, as if made of ice, and something she couldn’t identify. She angled him so that he could see her fully, hear her words, and see the soft truth in silver eyes. “If you loved your wife enough to tear the soul out of a living being the fight you had with her won’t have mattered. Anything you said, before you left that day, doesn’t matter. You loved her. You love her even still, despite this nothing, or you wouldn’t hold on to such a wretched half-life in this hell.”

“For all of your faults, even if you disappeared, she would not want this for you. She knew your heart. That kind of emotion doesn’t exist without leaving a mark.”

Slowly, she released him, head tilting as she analyzed his expression. It was hard to read. Likely, stunted, from a lack of human interaction. It was impossible to tell time here. “Tell us your name. If your wife is still among the living—we can find her and deliver a message. If not, your next of kin, depending on how many years have passed. In turn…release the pathetic being above us.”

“Release your friend. Release yourself. There aren’t any monsters here. Just pain. It’s time to let it go.”

 

[Kalyn Tal'verda]

The man gave them but a disconcerted sigh. He knew that they were right. He was a monster, an abomination of a man. He was a husk of the man he once was, an old, decrepit husk. He had come to terms with it a long time ago but he refused to let go of his grief. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He just wallowed in his own sadness, for millennia, untold millennia, quietly thinking about his heinous crimes, the horrible things he had done to his friends, and all of those innocent strangers his friends tormented soul had dragged to this damnable world.

"She is dead I know this to be true, it was far too long ago. I knew this all along, that I would be stuck in this hell for all eternity and she would long die, not knowing if I simply abandoned her or whether I died. I just gave myself into this eternal suffering. I became accepting of it. There is no monsters here but me.

You, Kainan, you are right about me, my actions bring nothing but pain I am a monster. However my grief allowed me to rationalize this long enough, but after awhile I just decided to stop existing in words, I would just sit here for days, thinking about the hell I caused those poor souls due to my own selfish actions, yet I could not bring myself to let go. I needed closure. You have brought it to me.

You woman, I appreciate the sentiment but I only require one thing from you. Go to the crash site, most likely buried in the dirt somewhere. When this is all over, find it, take the lock-box that my body still clings onto. Open it, and take the locket inside to the grave of Chiral Dane. The force will guide you.

My name is not important, I have long forgotten it, I have sat here for an eternity several times over, long enough to drive any man insane. I too have forgotten the name of the friend I have tormented for all these untold years. However I hope he has it in his heart to forgive me to all I have done to him. I do not thin anyone could but him.

I bid you farewell, thank you."

And after that, the man let go. He vanished from the room, just like that, and rather quickly the room began to glow brightly. The two would pop out on top of The Peak, right where they left off. However, they would be in the real world. Not Babels fiction. About 10 minutes would have passed for those outside, and they would have a much different experience.

First the beast babel would freeze up instantly, before exploding into a mass of millions of souls, the force glowed with a bright light, they had finally been freed from their torment. Even non force sensitives could see the mass of individual souls climbing out into the sky, before vanishing. They screamed words of joy, thanking the heroes for being their saviors.

Then the world reverted itself, out from the center of The Peak a sort of wall of reality came out, changing the world as it passed. The green evergreens returned, so did the crystal clear lakes and snow covered peaks. There was no more unholy ice and unnatural snow storms, it was the world as it was every summer, beautiful, pristine, empty. There were no more vikings, skeletons, or Babel, just nature.

10 minutes afterward the two who had jumped in the pit would pop out, falling seemingly out of thin air.

As for the man, he was released into the netherworld, now on an eternal search to find his wife, and to apologize for what he had done. To atone for his sins. It would be a long time before he did, but he would eventually get closure on a long half life of torment. At last, the pain had ended. He was free.

As for The Ancient Eye, they had killed the beast Babel, they had gone up against impossible odds and came out on top. While not many would know of their victory that day, those that were there would be left with a lasting impression.