Junction The Battle For Carlac | Junction of Mobus & Oorn Tchis | BotM & NIO

[Rurik Fel]

I M P E R A T O R
New Imperial Order
Knights of the Empire
501st Stormtrooper Legion
Iron Skin | Lightsaber
Halketh | Avernus | Darth Solipsis

IRON​

They were in truth, two monuments to their own suffering, walking two very divergent paths in enduring it. Rurik realized swiftly in Caelitus's response that was not prepared for a sheer battle of wills by hand. He was not ready nor willing to live and die by the sword. Something Rurik had done several times before against scions of darkness of debatable power in comparison to the man before him. He'd nearly struck Kascalion Giedfield low with his saber were it not for the grievous twilight inflicted through his mortal form. He had Braxus Zambrano hanging unto a thread at Bastion. Caelitus would be no different.

By his hand at the edge of his argent blade, he would force the death throes of the depraved man before him- abhoring the very existence of such a dark and deviant creature before him. The betrayal was a mere personal slight but in the end, he would be one with the grave in time. He need only do what he failed to in the face of these other so called 'Dark Lords'. Execute.

"As embedded in the darkness as you are...your suffering will never end...and you will never rise above it. But I assure you, brother...I will end it." Rurik states.

A shard of darkness shot into his Iron Skin, sending a sting of darkness that transcended the pain rended in physical flesh, negated by Rurik's own will over his body and into the very mind itself, seeping darkness into his consciousness before the net was cast before him, an attempt to sap and strain him of his strength. Thus, instead of dispelling the attempt in its track, he honed in on the source, the Sith himself. He willed his free hand out and splayed his fingers before ethereally laying hands on the eyeless metal helm clasped around his head.

And then...he squeezed and crushed the metal in his invisible grip, in an attempt to break his focus before he lurched into the fray once more, paying no mind to the crackle against cortosis he witnessed a moment before, he would put Caelitus to the sword, skewer him alive and drag his shambling corpse to the foot of Solipsis.

For as much as these Sith dared to talk...none of them dared to intervene. They both had nothing to lose if Rurik snuffed Kezec's life here and now before each of them, neither of them would bat an eye. Once more...he was as alone as he was. As the city was rocked with Imperial fire around them, Rurik was unflinching in his resolve, he knew well he disembarked into a city and a world that would be rendered unto glass. Such was the fate of traitors.

 

[Amadeus Blackwood]

Eclipse Actual

Engaging: Darth Senthral

Loadout: Double-bladed lightsaber, blaster pistol, vibroknife, Imperial Mk. I "Dooku-Pattern" Jedi Armor

Allies: Lyra Vent, NIO

Enemies: Darth Tennacus, BotM

Where Is My Mind?

Amadeus felt that he had made a blow, albeit a glancing one. He wouldn't have a chance to confirm, as he could sense the imminent counterattack. Normally, there would be time to gauge the trajectory of the strike through the Force, but his opponent was quick. Instead of blocking, Amadeus rolled forward, hoping to avoid the blow...

The crimson blade caught him in the shoulder, clashing against the metal and fabric of his armor. He narrowly avoided injury, though he would have to avoid another blow in the same spot. For all of his armor's strengths, it still had its limits. Anger welled up inside him at his miscalculation. He couldn't tell if it was the planet itself, or his thirst for vengeance... but something was throwing him off.

There's no way the Galidraani will welcome you now... not after Tavlar... not after Halketh...

Those voices... like a cacophonous choir of the damned echoing in his ear, their words reverberated through every inch of his being. His hand clenched the hilt of his lightsaber tighter as he tried to calm them.

To them, you're just another Sith...

The rage began to well inside him, reaching a crescendo as he cried out to the skies above.

"NO!!!!"

With those words, Amadeus whipped around, slicing horizontally with the motion of his body. As his opponent reached his field of vision, Amadeus poured all of his rage into his hand, sending blue streaks of lightning from his hand.

He slowly advanced toward his opponent, continuing to channel the lightning from his free hand.

"The Empire... the Warlords... the Maw... I've seen many of you come and go. No matter the name..."

Suddenly, he charged, hoping to close he gap before his enemy could react.

"You're just another Sith!!!"

He would duck at the last minute, hoping his feint would allow him to get under his opponent's block, so that he could deliver an upward slash with the back blade of his lightsaber. As he made his move, Amadeus could still hear the dreadful symphony of the damned whispering in the back of his mind...

Hypocrite...

Roland Thorne: Eclipse One

Location: Near Srares' Outskirts

Objective: Re-establish communications

Allies: Michael Barran , Aemilio Valaar , NIO

Enemies: Halketh , Glossa, The Mongrel , Marlon Sularen , BotM

The cold was starting to get to him. He had many a cold night on his homeworld, but the very air of Carlac seemed to wish to penetrate Roland's very bones. His mind was still swimming with the strange interference from... whatever it was. The voices... they seemed to come from all around. Roland shook his head, attempting to keep Baird's words at the forefront of his mind. Eclipse Company had been trained to withstand mental attacks, but this was unlike anything they could have prepared for.

What's the point, Roland? You know there's no hope...

He clenched his jaw, trying to focus on anything other than the voices that kept creeping into the back of his mind.

How can man stand against such reckless hate?

With those words, a distant howl shot out across the cold lands of Carlac...

The undead had come.

"Ah chit. Tannis! To me, now!"

One of the Eclipse Troopers came rushing to his side. He was young, for a member of the Company, and rather inexperienced compared to the rest, but Roland knew that he could trust him.

"Ok look, comms are completely karked. We need to get word to Baird immediately, so you're gonna be Tommy-on-the-spot for communication. Baird isn't far, but we don't know the exact position of those walking corpses. You get word to Baird. Tell him that a large group of hostiles are encroaching on our position. We will be right behind you, but we may need his help to get there."

Tannis only replied with a quick nod, but before he could leave, Amadeus grabbed him by the shoulder.

"And Tannis... don't get killed."

Tycho kept an eye out over the ridge as Algren attempted to fix the comms. His head was throbbing, and his hand was exhibiting the slightest of shakes. The sniper couldn't seem to maintain focus, and it made him uneasy. He began taking deep breaths, the same basic exercise he had learned when he shot his first blaster.

They'll bury you in the snow, Tycho... this mountain will be your tomb...

He was starting to get frustrated. Tycho had been very careful to remove doubt from his mental vocabulary. Doubt is what made a shooter miss his target. Doubt is what got good men killed. And yet... there it was.. lingering in his brain like a parasite sucking at his certainty.

You're gonna die here...

The rest of their recon unit caught up, making their way hastily toward Tycho and Algren. Tycho snapped around, reacting to the sound of the approaching footprints.

"THE HELL I WILL!!!"

Tycho raised his rifle, aiming it at one of their approaching squadmates. His finger moved for the trigger, and he was about to squeeze...

He suddenly found himself knocked to the ground, his Carlaci comrade hovering over him. Tycho instinctively reached for his vibroknife, hoping to gut the man. Algren looked down at him, smacking the side of Tycho's head as he spoke.

"It's me, damnit! Snap the feth out of it!"

Tycho's hand stopped reaching for the blade as his brain began to clear. Moments passed before he realized what had happened.

"Oh feth... I didn't-"

"Don't worry, everyone is fine. It was close though. You're hearing the voices too, huh? Looks like that fethin' traitor has been unleashing a serious mental assault on us. Best to check yourself once in a while to make sure your mind is right."

Algren held a hand out to him, and Tycho took it. Pulled to his feet, he looked to the rest of their unit.

"Looks like things are gonna be trickier than we initially thought. Everyone be on your toes. I want this area secure... from them, and us. Check in with each other, lets not get caught off guard again."

 

[Darth Senthral]

​

DARTH SENTHRAL

Occupation: Sith Apprentice

Objective: Fight Amadeus Blackwood . Learn all there is to be learned here and now.

Weaponry: Double-Bladed Lightsaber, and the power of the Dark Side​

An enemy fighting on two fronts, and yet still dominating the one you yourself are upon. He felt weak, he was on defense, no worse then that, he was resigned to taking blow. No... There was no resignation. FIGHT. The enemy was fast, a dodge to the other side of himself, and yet he followed just fast enough to throw the horizontal slash away with his own 'saber. In the same motion using his arm to wipe the dirt fro m his eyes.

Still he had one blade emitting where there should be two, and yet he was not Dueling now. No. This was different, he was scrabbling for his Life. This was when Sith met Sith in battle. It was beyond Jedi Comprehension. It was survival. He would not resign himself again though, today two would try to survive in battle. So when lightning came, lightning was returned.

Anger at being cornered surged forth, and fueled his own lightning that kept back his fellow Sith's. Fellow? No. Not now. Not yet. Though maybe in a way the other was oblivious to. He could learn from this, there was knowledge that this such enemy held. Know how he himself did not have. "So are you." Slowly it was coming to Senthral, this Sith, he heard them too didn't he.

Even now Darth Senthral heard the now long dead Jedi he once knew. "Niman is to know all. Jack of all Trades. Master of none. Allow me to impart on you a defensive lesson brother. They say the quickest defense is a quick and decisive offense, but maybe not always. Not first anyways. I'd say the best defense is a good bit of distance. Assess what you're up against. Things aren't always cut and dry." So as the enemy charged forth Darth Senthral simply waited.

Observed like a predator would it's prey, and yet it wasn't that. This was a battle between predators, and one had the mind of a fox. "Trickster." Was all that got out, before he dodged back from the 'sabers reach, and got into defensive positioning. Once more watching. "You hear them too don't you? Those you've damned. The Sins you must live with. No rest for Sinners like us. Listen to them well. Lest' you forget who you must become."

​

 

[Dakrul]

Objective: Protect the doorway & kill the opposition
Location: Entrance halls to The Crown of Ice
Allies: Maw and friends
Enemies: NIO and everyone else
Equipment: Staff of Dakrul, Cursed Gen'Dai Flesh Armour

The artillery of the Order seemed endless as it came crashing down wave after wave upon the castle and its outlying courtyards. Their loud roaring explosions quickly dissipated into the constant howling of the snowstorm as its winds echoed deeper into the gangways of the palace. In those few spares minutes in-between the onslaught, the blood-soaked marble halls fell into silence. Death ruled over these sacred chambers once again.

Moments before the last of the New Imperial troopers had met their demise, torn and ripped apart by the wretched horde of undead. The iron-willed warriors had fought to the last man, and their blaster and swords had sent many of the reanimated back into the hellfire. Despite the horrors, despite the odds they had pressed on, gave until there was nothing else to give. Gave until even their souls had been stripped from them.

The cavalry of ice and glass, the local undead commanded by the Shadow Hand had poured out into the conflict, they were to fend off attacks in the yards and beyond.

Dakrul was barely recognizable, his form had sustained incredible damage. A leg lost and replaced by another thick pungent Gen'dai tentacle to keep him upright, while the entirety of his right side from neck to flank was nothing but exposed flailing flesh. Were it not for his accursed armor his immortal shell would have fallen apart cracked by the continuous attacks of the Orders soldiers.

He had completed his task, the entrance was protected, his enemies perished but there had been troopers that made it past him, as well that hulking man of steel that downed him earlier. His wretched grip over the spirits of the dammed had been released, he needed to conserve the energy, needed to sustain his own bound spirit. Needed to nurture his wounds.

More importantly, he needed a source of living force energy to regain his own. He was after all a demon of the dark side, an abomination of the bogan. A parasite constantly feeding on the life of others to sustain his own that had long expired. He stretched his fiendish senses, like monstrous claws the sought to latch onto whatever they could find. There was a source, not too far in the underbellies of the Crown of Ice. But as he began to draw from this wellspring, to suckle on its essence he was thrown back. This was power far beyond what he was capable of. This must be the Halketh and the warmonger that had come through earlier.

Dakrul pouted behind his veil of screws and steel, the Heathen Priest was also gone and he was left by his own.

Very well he buckled up and raised his grotesque form as upright as his situation allowed, in that case, he would continue to stand guard. Who knew how much longer this battle would go on for and he sure wasn't going to let down the Master by leaving his post when the going got tough. What would the Avatar of War think of him were he to tuck his metaphorical tail and run?

As the night over Carlac turned to dawn the first rays of light would shine upon the gigantic almost statuesque shape of the Mawite Cha'ta'ri. The creature was both alive and dead, but right now he was sleeping, dreaming, waiting for a lifeform to come his way of which he could pull the necessary energies to break out of his dormant state.

Ready to be tasked yet again.

 

[Cromwell]

OBJECTIVE I | SIEGE THE CROWN
NOT FAR FROM THE CROWN OF ICE
​

"Hear what, Chel?" he put a hand on her shoulder, a soft tone protruding into his voice at the sight of her. She looked nothing like herself. Weeping, shoulders slumped and almost embracing herself as if reliving her worst nightmares.

Nightmares.

The tempest. He'd heard tales of ravenous tempests taking the mind of travellers. All seemed like exaggerated fables and myths spread across the stars to fend off bold adventurers. But this storm was no natural phenomenon. It was Halketh's doing and when he was involved - anything was possible. The cursed dark side.

Varian had to shelter her away from it. The keep was the closest. Little did he know that the closer she was to the heart of darkness, the stronger the effect of the spell was.

"We nee--"

A fierce blast flung them both away, taking the air of his lungs and his words from his lips. The spectre clenched his teeth, springing an arm to embrace her from the impact but the reach never made it. She clashed into a rock, while he tumbled far into the distance like a rag doll. The sudden soothing warmth embracing parts of his body indicated the kinetic gel of his armor had taken the brunt of the damage, but not the whole of it. Ribs had cracked and bloody scratches opened up in his flesh where it had rubbed violently with the armor and surface.

He managed to find enough balance to halt his flight in a bare crouch, knee scraping the snowy floor.

<"Sir, Agent Nighthawk's bleeding severely from a laceration below her ribcage. I must advise--">

"I can see that, Barclay!" growled Avenger. He could still read a medisensor on his own.

The mission...

...

Feth the mission.

<"She is going to d--">

"I know!"

<"Her brain activity has gone beyond the safe margin, Sir, how is she possibly still up and running?">

Easy answer. I know it all too well personally.

Live with it each day.

"Rage."

Rage at the untimely death of his parents and the sacking of his homeworld by the Sith. Rage hammered into composure and will of steel. Of the flames of rage, the strongest blades were forged.

<"I don't und--">

"You don't have to. I need to get her someplace safe." extraction's not possible; the storm has jagged my comms to orbit.

With vigor renewed by sheer will, he dashed forward into the horde of freshly resurrected undead where Chelenne unleashed her wrath in a gory bloodbath. The dark crusader rushed into her, grabbing her by the waist from behind and praying the repulsors kicked in.

put a little faith in it.

A faint groan resounded from the soles of his feet and with one final breath, it lifted them both up and over the horde of undead at the side entrance of the fortress.

"Snap out of it, Chelenne!" Varian barked the order as he held her tight, tumbling right under the closing gate and into the traitor's domain.

ALLIES | NIO | Chelenne Akaris
ENEMIES | MAW | Arken Rhau (seeyouagain.mp3)

 

[Chelenne Akaris]

S H O C K
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
N I G H T H A W K
// RESIST THE DARKNESS \\
Avenger | Arken Rhau

​

The bloodbath seemed eternal. It washed over her, staining the white furs wrapped around her frame to keep her warm, a mixture of crimson spawned from the fissure cleaved into her body, and the ichor of the twisted dead who had risen from the ground beneath their boots. And she couldn't stop. Clawed hands lurched out at her face, raking aggressive lines across the frosted glass of her goggles and scraping down her cheekbone. The zeltron whirled her blade and slashed one hand clean off at the wrist, sundering through the connective tissue at the joint and seeing the useless appendage to the ground where it was trampled underfoot with the lunge to follow. One bloody hand latched onto the shoulder of the corpse and the other, ruined by crimson, plunged the blade through until bone fragmented beneath the unholy strength she acted with. A trail of red puddling in the deep tracks left by struggle led to her, and it was as she charged to slam into another corpse that the iron arm clasped tightly around her waist.

Chelenne fought it, shouting and espousing curses in her native tongue, legs thrashing as she attempted to throw the man's weight off of her, but it was useless. She was weakening, fast. At her best, she had to rely on speed and flexibility to outmatch his raw strength, and now, at her worst, he likely could barely even feel the fist she slammed against his forearm. "LET ME GO!" The woman shrieked in fury, the pitch of her guttural cry upped by the sheer pain tearing her senses apart with where his arm was placed around her. And then, she was in the air.

Ragged, labored breaths left her with every thrash and struggle she attempted, though it was all to no avail.

Soon, she tumbled through the closing grate and rolled from snow to icy stone, where she finally came to rest in a heap of blood-soaked furs, wild hair, and whimpers. The knife she clutched for dear life escaped her grasp, skidding and clattering to the floor and vanishing into the mouth of the black spreading out far ahead of them- the same she watched their ironic savior in Arken Rhau rush off into.

"Snap out of it, Chelenne!

His voice echoed in the space, smothering out the rattle of the metal grate to their flank and the desperate screeches of the dead reaching through the slats to claw at the air behind them. Yet even now, as her life pooled around her, the rage would not abandon her. The insidious power of The Crown they now resided beneath held her psyche hostage, ravaging her thoughts with the shades of regret.​

"Do you remember what you said?"​

The Zeltron lay stationary, face down on the floor, struggling to catch her breath amidst the flood. The cold was really creeping in now, lunging from the shadows to sink into her bones, forcing her shivers to intensify. With what little strength she could muster, she pressed her palm to the floor and pushed herself over to lay on her back, where her blurring vision attempted to focus on the stalactites of jagged ice hanging from the ceiling.​

"You said you would be right back, didn't you?"
​

"Varian..." the agent barely whispered, clutching at the wound on her side with both of her trembling hands, "I don't want to die here."

"So terrible at goodbyes."
​

The scarlet hue of her skin was fading fast, those sickening talons loosening their grip now that the shock was really setting in. A hand slid down her hip, fumbling for the clasp of her utility satchel, though she did not speak further, perhaps he could figure out what it was she was after.​

​

 

[Avernus]

Halketh | Darth Solipsis | Rurik Fel
writers block post, i tried bro​

Had it been seconds? Minutes? More? That first push, that first expenditure of energy, had sent Avernus sinking back into his tether. Reduced to mist. A blood-black nothing in half-conscious drifting, not unlike his last purgatory, was all he knew now. Just like that? he questioned. All of that effort to bring me back, and I burn out at the first twinge of excitement? If he had any lungs, now would have been the time for contemptuous sounds and sighs. Alas, he possessed nothing physical anymore.

So, the Sith Lord drifted, aimlessly, towards the edges of some new oblivion.


No.

No.

No.

I refuse.

Mists crept their way back into Caelitus. Silent and sensationless as they drifted into the canals of his ears, nose, and between his lips. Like a leech, the vestigial remnants of Avernus fed from the inside. An embryonic parasite which reformed through the veins of his tether. I refuse to slip from this world again. The vapor swirled, churning the gut of its host like no space or seasickness could ever hope to accomplish. Blood for blood. Bone for bone. Soul for soul. I will be whole again.

Walls which kept him among the living threatened to fall. Fel's assault on the headdress could be felt even in what insubstantial plan Avernus resided in now. In desperation, the parasitic mechanisms kicked themselves into painful overdrive. For tether and subject both. Damnit, Kezec, live you fool. Could he be heard? What difference did it make? Kezec lived.

Vague tangibility returned. From within Kezec he could feel himself. Some part of himself. Somewhere. Then, sight returned. Kezec's eyes. Everything he could see, terribly bright as if presented to eyes that hadn't truly seen in a decade. Yes. His fingers moved. So too did Caelitus's. Yes. Forced symbosis began to pay off. I can feel it now. I can feel... Everything.

Sybila, you b*tch... I'll show you next.

「SNAP MY PICTURE」
​

Ichor sprayed from Caelitus' front. Carnidal spray without wound spattered across all before him. Ejecting from Kezec's figure, a tangible Avernus lunged, flickering between the crimson wrinkles, pureblood tendrils of old age, to the fair haired fair skinned figure of vanity and youth. An umbilical tether of oily black gore connected Caeltius and Avernus navel to navel, extending as the former surged forward.

Metallic glimmers formed an upswing arc. An ornate blade materializing in a tight trajectory swatted the Imperial ivory from striking fervor. Feet planted, Avernus directed a slow backswing with undying attention to spectacle. "Rurik Fel..." The name slithered of his tongue, amused edge betraying the sinister tone of eternal curse it dictated in.

"Knight Commander of the Order, and now... Iron Imperator?"

Avernus tittered. "So renown, yet I don't believe we ever had the opportunity," he recalled flippantly.

"What? Surprised to see me? Let me show you what I was famous for." Conjured blade raise to bisect his face before flourishing to the floor. A Makashi salute to punctuate the invitation. Then, an advancing step carried momentum into a thrust. None of the performative grace stayed behind, it seemed, as every muscle was considered in the maneuver. A step, a twist, a feint. Witching edge suddenly fell from above, eager to sunder the man of iron.

 

[Halketh]

O U T N U M B E R E D
C A E L I T U S
Dark Lord of the Sith
vestment | creation
Darth Solipsis Rurik Fel Avernus

​

"As embedded in the darkness as you are...your suffering will never end...and you will never rise above it. But I assure you, brother...I will end it."

It was a bold claim from a man who toiled so. One which only served to bolster the spite burning deep within the Dark Lord's being. The thorns of his concentration pierced the iron skin of the Imperator, but it was not quick enough to subdue him. That decisive hand wrenched forth through the suffering, seizing hold of the resolute armor guarding him. His ears popped as he realized what was happening, vision lit ablaze by the binds of The Force suffocating him. It served its purpose, shattering his focus on his incantation with the greater desire to survive, leaving him vulnerable- or so it seemed.

Deep within the twisted font of power, he nursed the miscreation he had ushered back into this world, nourishing the spirit of his friend back to tangibility. The first blast had been too much for Avernus's form to maintain, discharging too much energy and straining the tether too much to endure. But it did not break, it did not sever, and as the necromancer swayed, it grew stronger. Disoriented, his hands wrenched the helmet from his head, tossing it aside- it served him no purpose now. The fractured curves of its interior raked their razors across his flesh, carving lines into his paling skin.

That eyeless face of his twisted into a bloody grin, exposing the delight of it all. Skin torn asunder by the iron grip wept streams of blood.

"See it done, then," He spat back at last, body overrun by churning mists of sorcerous power, "or fail in your duty again."

He wretched vaguely, staggering in his stance as he felt the very real fingers of Opulence clawing their way out of him. "But remember-" he sputtered, sickly ichor finding its way from the corner of his mouth, "-where you stand." That was the warning the sorcerer offered before the Lord of Opulence erupted from him in a grotesque, gut-wrenching rebirth, splattering the marble floors with phantasmal blood. The chain binding the fate of two together served as guide and Caelitus surged forward with Avernus, keeping his guard tight to ensure the unnatural cord between them would remain unbroken.

With much of his energy loaned to the phasing Sith Lord by his side, his options were limited. Recognizing the Darkshear had struck its mark before, the Dark Lord lunged forth, saber whirling back to life, in an attempt to cleave through the armor guarding Fel's body- his downward plunge focused on the joint of the same arm. He sought to cripple, maim, and torture the man further.​

 

[Cromwell]

OBJECTIVE I | SIEGE THE CROWN
NOT FAR FROM THE CROWN OF ICE
​

Shutting the cries of a hundred pains and aches reverberating across his body, he dug knuckles into the floor, lifting himself halfway up and staggering to Chelenne. A pallid mask crossed his face at the sight of her face losing its natural color to the cold grip of death.

"You're not going to die here." the spectre nestled a bloodied hand to cushion her head, slightly lifting it up. "Stay with me, Chel, just stay with me. Don't talk. Save your strength."

<"Sir, she's critic--">

"I know!" he barked back at the A.I's obvious observation, then reached into the utility satchel she was seeking with the last drops of her strength. Setting it down beside her with one hand, he opened it with a quick sleight of hand and pulled out its contents laying them down next to each other. He brought the syringe with golden color up to his face, narrowing his eyes at its label. Adrenal shot. Without a second thought, he injected it into her thigh.

Throwing the syringe aside, he moved her hands aside from her wound to inspect its length. Long and deep laceration. That's an artery bleeding so fast. Chit.

"Stay with me."

Keeping her head still cushioned under his hand, he worked singlehandedly with the bacta patches setting two over the wound and carefully pasting them on her sanguine flesh. The adhesive's not going to hold if she's moving. I need to-- he ripped a long length of his cloak and tied over the wound and around her whole torso. Agrinium lattice, should hold.

"I'm going to get us out of here, Chel."

Just don't die on me.

..

Please...

ALLIES | NIO | Chelenne Akaris
ENEMIES | MAW | Arken Rhau (seeyouagain.mp3)

 

[Chelenne Akaris]

D R I F T I N G
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
N I G H T H A W K
// RESIST THE DARKNESS \\
Avenger | Arken Rhau

​

His blurry form over her served as the anchor to keep her focused, even as the ability to do even that much was starting to slip through her fingers. She was still, refusing to move either willfully or by force of her body simply unable to process the damage further. The shock held her fast now, clamming up her skin and muffling her ears as it plunged her head under its icy wave. She tried, she tried her hardest, pouring every ounce of concentration she could into keeping her eyes open and focused on him, fighting back the closing shadows to keep her head over the dire waves.

And yet....

"I know!"

His voice was all but gone, but it resided in her thoughts, echoing from the other end of the black tunnel. Lead eyelids fell shut, the Zeltron unable to fight the unconsciousness she had been battling any longer. She screamed in silence, fighting it at first, refusing to surrender and give up as her body overpowered her and failed her resolve. In the growing black she shrieked, trapped within the prison of a failing body. 'Save me! Please! You know what to do! I c-can't-' Desperation saw her pleading with him though he could not hear her, and in the unawareness ushered in by her encroaching slumber, she had no idea if he truly could save her.

Fight and thrash as she might, the reality was there was nothing she could do. This was the inevitability that all living things must meet, it was the grim reality of every soul. Gratitude that it was relatively painless, now, should have crossed her mind but nothing of the sort could be found in the raging tempest of her thoughts. No, alone in that personal hell, all she felt was fear. Hopelessness was closing in as seconds dragged into minutes. The cold had frosted her over, leaving numbness and nothing else.

And then fire burst through the veil and threw her eyes wide open.

Chelenne jolted with the biological agent breaching the atriums of her heart, shattering through her shock with a saving throw. She gasped deeply, coughing just as quickly, and both bloody hands clasped around Varian's hovering arm. Wide, sapphire eyes darted, trying to process what just happened, and it wasn't until she saw the discarded syringe that she understood. Then her eyes were situated on the patch job he had done. And then back to him. And then to the hands she gripped his arm with. And then to the strand of violet hair pinned beneath the goggles she wore. The full picture came back; color, sound, smell.

Her grip relaxed, that flash of adrenalized fire gone as quickly as it had come, but it had done its job, and combined with the efforts in mending her wounds, she was stable. Much more would be required later down the line, at least for proper healing, but for now, she no longer tip-toed on Death's doorstep. Chel turned her head, peering through the yawning darkness of the tunnel they rested in the mouth of for anything distinct. "Where are we, exactly?" She asked softly, fighting the urge she had to throw her arms around his neck and spend what little strength she had to embrace him. Maybe this was obvious as she looked back up at him, the vaguest guilt brushed into the weak smile painted on her pale features, "Now... we're even..."

She didn't know how long those insidious claws would leave her alone, but she doubted she had long until she would have to do battle with the Darkness again.

​

 

[Rurik Fel]

I M P E R A T O R
New Imperial Order
Knights of the Empire
501st Stormtrooper Legion
Iron Skin | Lightsaber
Halketh | Avernus | Darth Solipsis

VENGEANCE​

From one became two and before he could register the moment of respite that came in the faint victory over Kezec, the Lord of Opulence was at his flank to join the fray against his Iron Will. So be it. It would be a fool's errand and pure delusion to expect the Sith to enter the fair fight, or even to leave expose the extent of their power open and blatant upon its onset. No. There was always one more card to be played, one more ruse to be unveiled.

But it showed clear in Kezec, he was growing desperate. As soon as a Sith had started to crack his crooked grin...there it was. Everything was then laid bare before Rurik. There were scant more tricks and ruses to be played on the field of battle now- for the Sith was now confident they'd shown enough to decisively slay their enemy.

Against most, they may very well be correct...against the Man of Iron. His smile would not persist much longer. Just as Avernus's blade erupted to crimson life to rear toward Rurik's cranium, Kezec's own blade swiped toward the open joint in Rurik's sword arm. Troubling. Never the ideal circumstance, to be backed against the wall with two Sith Lords with death in their eyes and blades in their hands.

Good.

Avernus sought to cleave his skull in half, his strike would demand his priority as he singlehandedly veered his argent blade up to meet it in a violently calculated clash upward before twisting his body toward his right side, angling his left hand toward Kezec where he would take a similar approach that he did to Kezec's mask to the metal bracer clasped around his wrist and will it to squeeze and tighten down unto his arm. Twisting the vestments of protection to be his undoing before he would finally see to break the clash with Avernus and Kezec, to vault himself backward and give himself space from the assault they levied unto him.

He removed his left foot from the ground, conceding his footing for a moment before stomping it into the ornate flooring with a telekinetic slam and drag forward in the hopes of sending momentum against them.

"I will endure...and you will perish." Rurik said, his voice bathed in deep, dark distortion as he spoke.

 

[Cromwell]

OBJECTIVE I | SIEGE THE CROWN
WITHIN THE CROWN OF ICE
​

How many can die in your arms before you grow numb to death?

He felt her head limp against his hand. The cold enveloping her form as life all but departed from her body. A hefty lump piercing his throat allowed no scream to escape his lips, no wail against the injustice, the sorrow he was to experience once more.

And how many dead eyes can you look into before you die yourself?

For who exactly did he follow this code? These principles that supposedly separated him from the monsters that took the lives of his parents and now the life of one he was growing more than just fond of. Where did they lead him to? Another untimely grave. For every time Varian reached out to someone, they withered in his hands, doomed by this curse weighing on his shoulders.

Why do they deserve to live and she to die?

Moisture began to form at the back of his eyes.

Why?

And then she jerked in his arms, like a torch suddenly ablaze in the bleak darkness of his heart. Mouth wide open in disbelief, he scrambled frantically to reach for the stoic disposition he was so known for. A coping mechanism, he realized. Through the various expressions shifting the only visible part of his face - his mouth - he finally gave her something only a very few had seen--

"Now... we're even..."

--a genuine smile. It almost seemed childlike. Such sharp was the contrast with the usual thin lines that formed his lips.

"We are." and then it was gone, replaced by the weight of duty and the predicament they found themselves in.

"We're inside the fortress." he stated and jerked his head at where they had come from, "That gate's not going to budge." then looking at the only route ahead, in the pitch-black darkness, he set two fingers on his helmet activating the echolocation. The eyes on the helmet faintly glimmered cyan. "A... labyrinth of some sorts." so complex that even the 3D projection could hardly pinpoint a clear way out of it.

But it looked like the only potential exit for now. Concern furrowed his brow - how long would they wander inside before Chel's situation grew worse again?

"Can you walk or would you prefer if I carried you?" Varian asked, turning his attention back to her.

ALLIES | NIO | Chelenne Akaris
ENEMIES | MAW | Arken Rhau (seeyouagain.mp3)

 

[Chelenne Akaris]

H E L L W A L K E R
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
N I G H T H A W K
// RESIST THE DARKNESS \\
Avenger

​

The Zeltron bit her tongue, withholding comment about the smile on his face and how well it suited him, deciding if she did, he'd likely never smile again just to spite her. She nodded, reaching up to draw the fogged goggles from her face and tossed them aside, exposing the little mascara tears staining her cheeks. "I can walk," she said surprisingly, "I'm not sure how long I've got until the Darkness comes knocking again, but for now, my head is clear."

Still in his grasp, Chel shakily sat up, glancing down at her blood-covered form. "You know, this used to be my favorite outfit for the snow," she lamented in a half-hearted attempt at humor, "no way to salvage these furs now." A quivering hand gently rested on his shoulder and she dragged her heels beneath her, attempting to get to her feet. Pain ruptured her vision, forcing her to cringe and endure it, though she refused to fall right back down. "I'm- agh- starting to regret spending all my ammunition yesterday..." where was her blaster anyway? She hadn't the faintest idea.

Bloodshot, sapphire eyes glanced around in the dark, seeking out the knife dropped with her abrupt landing here. "A labyrinth?" She nearly scoffed, though the biting breath was missing the core component of her personality he was used to; the sass. She was alive, but she was exhausted, beyond exhausted truly. "Of course he has a labyrinth, just like all those fairy tales and myths. The big scary dark lord living up in his castle in the mountains, forcing all who oppose him to endure the horror of a maze with devils in its center." A hesitant boot bore her weight forward, though she found it deeply painful to keep weight on her wounded half for any amount of time.

This was to be a true test.

Nighthawk shuffled forward tentatively, humming through the pain with a rather out-of-tune and pitchy rendition of her lastest pop fixation in some half-baked attempt to mask the whimpers that would have escaped her otherwise. In the dark, she spotted the blade and she collected it, overturning the weapon in her hand. Pieces of brain matter, bone fragments, hair, and a wide variety of less savory things strung down the serrated blade and coaxed her gloved fingers, forcing her to make a rather hilariously unpleasant face at the experience overall.

"There's uhm," she started, struggling to regain her bearings, "I guess you can't feel it but there's... how do I describe it. There's a pull from deeper in, it's like intuition, I can feel it. I have no idea if it's a good thing or a bad thing, and I can barely feel it, but it's there. Maybe the labyrinth is enchanted? Or Force-touched, or something..."

Maybe that wasn't the best way to reveal she was Force Sensitive to him, and the appropriate time for that had long passed by now, but she laid it out regardless.

"Whatever it is, we need to move. I don't want to just sit here and wait for someone to find us." And slowly, the zeltron started limping toward the darkness awaiting them in the depths beneath the fortress.

​

 

[Michael Barran]

11th post
SECOND_SON
OBJECTIVE 2: UNDERWORLD
CARLAC

ALLIES (NIO): Aemilio Valaar Konrad Harrsk Auria Blackmoore
Keilara Kala'myr Amadeus Blackwood Ranoc Sar

ENEMIES (BOTM/NSO/KOR): Halketh The Mongrel Marlon Sularen
Tegan Starfall Glossa

MICHAEL'S FORCES
THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD
ARGYLL COY. - INFANTRY
LARGS COY. - INFANTRY
FARRIN COY. - ENGINEERS
ISLAY COY. - ANTI-TANK

BLUE-HEART BRIGADE
209 XT-62,"CATAPHRACT" TANKS
32 SCOUT-AFV'S
10 MLV'S (NAKAIOMA)
5 PREDATOR LAUNCH-PLATFORMS (NAKAIOMA)
1 COY. OF GUARDSMEN
1 COY. OF MEDICS
1 COY. OF QUARTERMASTERS

THE GOLIATHS OF ILUM
32 VH-140,"GOLIATH" REPULSORTANKS (NAKAIOMA)
5 SCOUT-AFV'S

MICHAEL'S LOADOUT
PRIMARY WEAPON: VIBROSWORD CAVALRY-SABRE
SECONDARY WEAPON: BLASTER-PISTOL

PROVING GROUND: THE WANDERER'S DEPLOYMENT TO CARLAC - PART 20

​

The Six-Eyed Gate of Marunesh,
Melarran's Firmament

You.... Yes, you! We want words with you, scum!​

'Still with us, Shaman?'

Yes, you with the accent! What have you done with our friends?​

'Yes, Milord. But-', the young Novanian responded to the Woad, turning to see a hellscape coming into focus, and much more intense than it had been before. Understanding that it might take a few moments more for the Firmament First-Timer to draw his consciousness back into focus, Yorunarr would allow Yan'Sharlim's,"Gifts from Melarria.", to manifest properly; the shaman knew he would need to be a point of reference to draw from, so in the process of feeling that power resonating from within his heart of hearts, he would discover what this power's function would be, and if his differed to that of the Wanderer's. Tiny little lights on the horizon would appear, but only as according to his still-wispy perception of conscious reality, pulsating with viable signs of life that indicated they were the living souls on the ground, with dark blots charging on one focal point of lifelit resistance near the base of the mountain the tanks were defending from the summit. Remembering to finish his response, the Novanian then turned to the Woad and cleared his throat to say,'But I'm starting to wish we'd just stayed put on Melarran's FIrmament now, just look at what's unfolded since.', before turning to find the city's northern gateway completely collapsed.

Better tell us now, scum. There's no need to struggle now, is there?​

'Oh, right.... Best we get started then, eh?'

It could mean the difference between a quick or slow death in the end.​

'Good idea, but first - who's going to,"Spill the beans", so to speak? Wanderer, or Shaman?', the Woad's bodyguard shot back curiously, raising an eyebrow as the voices shot another onslaught of abuse his way. Yorunarr would mirthfully pleaded to be the one to tell them, requesting permission by tilting his head and pointing to himself almost spasmodically in repetition, to which Lord Michael would graciously, and almost theatrically bow his head to concede the proverbial floor to his Novanian bodyguard in reply. Acts such as these only served to further cement Barran's high-standing with the son of Yan'Sharlim, proving evident in the almost childishly-ecstatic response, punching the air a few times and holding his hands over his head already, gleefully anticipating the nuclear rage and relishing in the prospect that it was likely to shock the voices immensely. To have such a satisfying duty to fulfil was extremely rare for a Novanian of Yorunarr's ilk, and the Shaman felt it in that moment, letting the feeling wash over him as he roared,'YOUR FRIENDS - ARE DEADER THAN DOORNAILS, SCUM!!! AND WE'RE COMING FOR YOU NEXT!!!!', with every last word barked out more venomously than anyone else would in Yorunarr's shoes.

THE VOICES HAD SKULLS WE COULD BREAK!!!! JUST LIKE YOURS, SCUM!!!!​

'HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! IT'S TIME, YORUNARR!!!!', the Wanderer roared with ecstatic fervour, completely amazed at the fact he could hear his Shaman's inner-voice with a clarity he was unable to attain on Melarran's Firmament. A telepathic link was forming between the Woad and the Novanian, though neither could quite put their finger on how, they only knew that the Firmament had bestowed gifts of greater value than Yan'Sharlim was suggesting just moments before; though none of it really mattered in that rush-addled, life-affirming moment, not when the real thrills and ecstasy awaited their rampaging descent towards the collapsed walls that bordered Srares' broken northern districts. But first, Michael had some hands to play before he started his descent, politely clearing his throat before clicking his comm-device and exclaiming,'All Cataphracts, this is Barran! Give the city's northern approach an overdose on SMOOTHBORE-SHELLS!!!! HIGH-EXPLOSIVE TIME!!!! Cairn One out!', with life coursing so intensely through his veins that the hairs on his arms and neck stood on end.

YOU WILL NOT SURVIVE US, MICHAEL!!!!
YOUR WHITE-EYED FRIEND HAS DOOMED YOU TO A FATE FAR WORSE THAN THE OTHERS!!!!

THESE MOUNTAINS WILL SERVE AS YOUR MASS-GRAVE, MICHAEL!!!!

PROVING GROUND: THE WANDERER'S DEPLOYMENT TO CARLAC - PART 21

Western Srares Mountains,
Near Srares' Outskirts, Carlac

YOU CANNOT STOP US, SCUM!!!!
YOUR AMMUNITION WILL RUN OUT BEFORE THEY DO!!!!​

The base of their hillock was lighting up with explosives, blaster-fire and fuel-bottle bombs, but it looked like there was contact lighting up closer to the clearing at the hilltop than Baird was comfortable with, but it was looking to be a situation the young Captain would need to find a way to adapt to regardless. The front layer of the mountain's three-layered loose defence-lines was sounding to be at risk of receiving and meting out friendly fire alike, and with the LMGs coming to life at the base of their low-lying plateau, Ryan knew there wouldn't be much time to act in efforts to take the op either way. Fortunately for the Guard-Captain, a young trooper sent by Leftenant Thorne would offer a runner-sent lifeline that would aid the Woad in making his final choice, and as soon as Tannis made Imperator/Tavlar-coded contact, Baird would be able to learn exactly what was going on with the Eclipse contingent fighting downhill. Looking to the nervous young trooper as he tried to catch his breath, Baird pushed the lad onto one knee and pulled the lad's rifle up to help him get more clean air with each inhalation as he drawled,'In through the nose, out through the mouth. Nice an' slow, lad.', looking once more to the south with nerves of his own perpetuating apprehension also.

WE SEE YOUR EYES!!!
WE SMELL YOUR FEAR!!!!
WE HEAR YOUR STRUGGLE!!!!

Let us end it for you.
Is it wrong that we want to end that fear in your heart?
That despair we feel through you?
​

'My message for Thorne is simple, an' Guardian Company will be following close behind as well, rest assured- anyway! Pay attention, Tannis.... "Your sixes are safe, draw back in a fighting retreat until we link up again. We hold our ground there an' pick targets safely in numbers.", think you can manage all that?'

'Absolutely, sir. But be warned, the voices are going 'aywire with us lot down there, I kid you not.', the young trooper replied through laboured breaths of cold, foggy winter air, hoping to advise the Guard-Captain as well as he could with the circumstances being so strenuous already. The only thing making it better was the sudden renewal of XT-62 barrages from the north, with shells ripping up the valley floor ahead and giving the troops struggling in the first two layers of defence a small lifeline, though Baird would readily admit he'd seen his brothers-in-arms survive and prevail on much slimmer odds through the years, and would recall occasions where he ended hostilities whilst covered in blood and guts after doing so himself. Whether Tannis would survive, in the odds that stacked harder against him than they had with the veterans around him, was up to the young trooper himself, and the decisions he made in the process of fighting to see sunrise again. Yet the newly-appointed trooper would instil a little hope of his own in eagerly growling,'But if we get you and Roland back t'back, merging our lines and such, the voices won't mean chit, sir.', standing with what looked like a second wind as Baird helped him up the rest of the way.

'Good, that's the kind o' talk I like hearin' in moments like this. Now go, you've got runner's duties to attend to. Good luck, see ye in a few minutes.'

STRUGGLE ALL YOU WISH, SCUM!!!!
WE'LL ENJOY THE THRILL OF THE HUNT EITHER WAY!!!!​

A fresh missile-barrage from the Predator Launch-Platforms then followed up to bolster the pressure of the XT-62s, lighting up the sky ahead as Baird and Corporal Deanes watched young Tannis bounding downhill in the general heading of Thorne's last-known position, and soon after, the deep, pulsating impacts could be felt underfoot. Giving just the slightest reprieve to McBain's men holding the first line of defence, the Predators' missiles had provided the perfect follow-up, unleashing an onslaught that tore apart large swathes of the bottlenecked undead and giving the Highlanders their chance to retreat back uphill, where the tentative-morale of the Eclipse units holding the second line would perhaps be bolstered by the time Baird and the other Guardians arrived to provide further support. Everything they were fighting to achieve hung in the balance, but the fighting-spirit of the Blue-Heart guardsmen was still far from breaking, especially when the sight of heavy-cannon pressure began lighting up the city's western horizon with fire, giant plasma-trails and the sound of mounted-LMGs letting loose en masse.

The Goliaths of Ilum had finally engaged the city's defenders, and the tide was looking to turn - but only if Lord Michael's contingent could hold on just a little longer.

IT - MEANS - NOOOTHIIIIIIING!!!!!
YOU'LL BE CHASED LIKE DOGS THROUGH THE TREES SOON!!!!
SO WHAT DOES IT MATTER, SCUM?!?!?!

​

 

[Cromwell]

OBJECTIVE I | SIEGE THE CROWN
WITHIN THE CROWN OF ICE
​

Despite being wounded, on a world of horrors, within the fortress of all evil, with no means to escape, Varian felt relief wash over him when she sat up and opened her mouth to talk. He never knew he would be so happy at the prospect that she could talk again. Nine times out of ten, he wished she could keep her mouth shut. A significant moment occurring in the weirdest circumstances.

"You know, this used to be my favorite outfit for the snow," she lamented in a half-hearted attempt at humor, "no way to salvage these furs now." A quivering hand gently rested on his shoulder and she dragged her heels beneath her, attempting to get to her feet.

"I'll buy you new ones." he stated as a matter of factly while helping her get back up on her feet and staying that way. Chel had been close, just on the precipice of life and death. Too close.

He watched her go on her so typical sassy rants. Yeah, she's very much alive. Battered as hell, hanging on an adrenal stim and a bandage, but alive. Then the sass abated to be replaced by the severity of their situation.

"There's uhm," she started, struggling to regain her bearings, "I guess you can't feel it but there's... how do I describe it. There's a pull from deeper in, it's like intuition, I can feel it. I have no idea if it's a good thing or a bad thing, and I can barely feel it, but it's there. Maybe the labyrinth is enchanted? Or Force-touched, or something..."

Maybe that wasn't the best way to reveal she was Force Sensitive to him, and the appropriate time for that had long passed by now, but she laid it out regardless.

"Whatever it is, we need to move. I don't want to just sit here and wait for someone to find us." And slowly, the zeltron started limping toward the darkness awaiting them in the depths beneath the fortress.

The spectre's brow furrowed at the untimely admission. Did ISB know? Force-sensitives were not well looked upon within COMPNOR but they were occasionally used as... expendables. Was she--? He wanted to ask so many questions, to know more, but it was hardly the time and place to prod intrusively as he usually did.

He moved to take point from her, the armor and his unnatural resilience made him a good target to soak up anything that came their way. As they carried forward into the maze, his sensors began to occasionally flicker; something was trying really hard to disrupt them. The deeper they moved into it, the more his echolocation diagram shifted and changed. Whether it was becoming useless or more useful was up for debate.

They reached a T-intersection, deliberating over which turn to take when a hostile presence hurled its psyche into Chelenne's in an attempt to invoke the most feral of rages within the depths of her heat. Turn her to the side of darkness and turning Varian into a target.

ALLIES | NIO | Chelenne Akaris
ENEMIES | MAW | this labyrinth bruh

 

[Chelenne Akaris]

H E L L W A L K E R
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
N I G H T H A W K
// RESIST THE DARKNESS \\
Avenger

Gladly, she stepped back to allow him to move ahead, and in a twisted sense, she felt relief as the howling jeers and groans of the dead faded away behind them. It was dark, darker than she could have imagined, and she did her best to stick close to the vague outline of him she could see without walking into his back outright or tripping over the unknown obstructions on the path that she definitely did not want to see at all. Despite her best efforts not to think about their situation and the grimness of it all, she found the thoughts intrusive all the same. What if they couldn't escape it? What if they were ambushed in the dark? What if? What if? What if?

It all made her grimace, as much as the pain she endured did, and in response, she gripped her blade tighter, and her free hand found the forearm of the man in front of her. The further in they dared go, the worse she began to feel. It settled into her body, a web of nausea and anxiety, twisting her guts into coils of snakes and sapping the courage from her stride. She was a coward on the best of days, but often could hide it well enough beneath the mask of morality to get by when it counted the most, but here, it felt like that woman who had bravely engaged an active terrorist in a warehouse full of innocent refugees had abandoned her.

Avenger paused, which urged her to do the same, and judging by what little movement from him she could make out, he was trying to come to a decision. An intersection, perhaps. The shifting anxiety in her gut overturned, making her gag, and she released his arm to turn away, feeling as though she was going to be sick. That feeling only intensified until she was intercepted by wracking pain. It splintered into her skull, crashing into the weakened fortress of her mind until it resonated through all of her bones and ignited her nerves outright. Chel cried aloud, doubling over to clutch either side of her head, hissing through her teeth in her native tongue.

She felt it bubbling up inside of her again, that unyielding rage. Knuckles paled around the hilt of her blade. Each thought came faster and faster, rushing through her mind in a blinding torrent of agony, warped and twisted by the Darkness consuming them both. Tainted memories. Pain. Suffering. Paranoia. The seeds of doubt bloomed in full, driving her to madness, and it wasn't until she turned to square herself back in Varian's direction that she realized what was happening.

"Go, run! I can't--" she struggled to speak, her voice a strange, twisted amalgamation of torment and rage, "--I can't stop it!"

In a last-ditch effort to spare herself the suffering of hurting him, the woman hurled her knife into the darkness behind them- the metal clattering and skidding away across the floor.

"Get out of m- agh!" Fists tightened around her dampened hair, all but ripping it out by her temples as she fought an unseen battle, "Just go! Leave me!"
​

 

[Cromwell]

OBJECTIVE I | SIEGE THE CROWN
WITHIN THE CROWN OF ICE
​

Her sudden shift in disposition startled him and he snapped around to face her, the intense flashlight on his helmet showering her frame alight. There was nothing in sight except her, no visible threat. The sensor outputs further proved that.

<"Her brain activity is spiking again, Sir."> chit. <"She is, pardon the language, going nuts.">

"Chel!" Varian barked, hand reaching for his utility belt and producing a syringe filled with cerulean liquid. A mental stabilizer. Clear her neurons of foreign intrusion but numbing her senses in the process

"I'm not leaving you!" he growled as he lunged at her to attempt injecting the stabilizer, expecting her to fend him off. "Take control of yourself!" in their mutual struggle, she could feel his breath so up close and the alarming anxiety radiating from his usually composed self.

ALLIES | NIO | Chelenne Akaris
ENEMIES | MAW | this labyrinth bruh

 

[Chelenne Akaris]

S U N - N E V E R - G O N N A - C O M E - U P
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
N I G H T H A W K
// RESIST THE DARKNESS \\
Friendly | Avenger
Foe | Chelenne Akaris

Suddenly the surface of the stone wall impeded upon her space and a shadow pressed against her. In the blaring scream of the flashlight, black veins snaked beneath the paling Zeltron's face, coiling insidiously about the edges of her features like worms turning beneath the earth. The fists clenching her hair released, shoving against his shoulders as he imposed upon her, putting up a rather pathetic fight against his actions to stabilize her yet again. The sharp force against the exterior of her thigh made her yelp, though she barely processed it as the medicine was shot through the artery for a rapid response.

Her heart rate had spiked well over any normal, panicked levels, humming at a dangerous, explosive speed in her chest that suggested it could very well tire itself out yet again. And there was no way it could be convinced to rouse from a state of comatose for a second time. She shrieked and fought against him still, punching at him with the sides of her fists and squirming to try to free herself from the hold he had taken. And it wasn't until moments later that she finally seemed to level back out.

And with that came a horrific realization- dawn shining rays through the bleakness of the hell they had found themselves in.

Her wide eyes narrowed out and she blinked, shrinking away from the glare of the flashlight in her eyes.

"I..." she was trying to process what just happened, trying to parse it out, to make sense of it, "I don't know what came over me..." she managed to stammer, "I..." she fumbled over her words, tripping and grasping at the snaking tails of thoughts that evaded her in the black, "what's happening to me?" the whispered question left her trembling in fear of the obvious answer.
​

 

[Halketh]

D I S D A I N
S A I N T E D
Dark Lord of the Sith
Rurik Fel | Avernus | Darth Solipsis

​

Battered as he was, he had not suffered speed for the acts of malice cast toward him. The Iron Imperator, a daunting archon of physical prowess and strength, the testament to discipline and sculpture in his own right, was the foil to the agile nature of the Dark Lord. The crushgaunt seized only the trailing edge of his half-drape with The Divine's evasion, the tail of sanctimony slipped through his grasp. His smile broadened, its warmth growing with the uncanny nature of the expression- one of enjoyment rather than malediction.​

"I will endure...and you will perish."

For all the tempered steel shielding the man's torment from the world, his nature could not escape The Vulture's Sight. The emotions rising within the gilded chest of The Imperator served well enough to give rise to an emerging Dark he was comfortable dwelling in. From his distance, the exertion of will over kinetic force saw him snap a hand outward in reflex, dispersing the destructive wave's momentum to each side of his form. His head tilted, onyxian strand tumbling from behind his ear to coax his shoulder, and he pushed a disappointed breath from his nose, humming the accompanying note out upon a clicking tongue.

His lightsaber found respite in dormancy, and soon the hilt was brandished in the man's direction. "Yes, yes, you will survive the night. I have heard many men make me good promises before, but that one just might be the most absurd," Caelitus spoke, his smile broken only by the dry chuckle that punctuated his assessment, "I put down your Imperator, I crippled your cabinet, and I am the reason you fattened the troops up to serve as meat for the soldiers you failed." He painted the sordid image without remorse, the monotone cadence of his words lifted in crescendo: "And you have the nerve to come here and insist you'll outdo me." The phantoms dancing behind him writhed with insidious agony, the source of which could only be leveled by the hand slowly closing by his side.

Those shades of life extinguished with a final wail.

His Presence grew, emboldened by the cracks forming in his masquerade. "When I've not tired myself rendering your victories meaningless, I'll entertain the thought for you, but until then-"

The rise of his energy saw the air sizzle, rippling with the distortion of coalescing power. It warped the void between the trio, stoking up a heated wind with Caelitus poised in the center. Rogue strands of hair uplifted, disturbed by the unseen. "-you may wait outside."

His slumbering blade was dropped, its electrum glint vanishing into the darkness of the room. The hand clutching it previously remained where it was, though it was soon joined by its twin with an abrupt jerk. Gauntleted digits unleashed the power of the ghosts clinging to the psychopomp's soul- their final essence stolen from them to be spent in an effort to end this dance for the time. A crashing energy field burst from Caelitus's hands, launched at devastating scale to obliterate the entire side of the room where only Rurik stood. Structure caved, blasted apart by the raw kinetic output he wove, exposing those within to the howling death lashing from unseen clouds above. So much was this, it shoved him backward merely from casting it. Finery was swept aside and ejected out the opposite wall, taking the shattered floor, and the ruined statues with it, and hurling them over the newly created ledge to suffer the harrowing drop beyond.​

​

 

[Darth Solipsis]

​

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW

​

"My boy."

The scorching sulfur within the eyes of the haunting Dark Voice approached as he stepped away from the once battered corner where the throne now sat empty. His black cloak flowed freely in his wake as he came freely of his own accord to see the face of his chosen Shadow Hand. He halted before him and looked upon the Dark Lord of the Sith with proud eyes and a sinister smile. The cold winds blew into the chamber with an icy gale, the distant sounds of battle resonated within his drums but nothing, not a single thing could take away from this moment. Halketh 's moment.

There was much devastated in the wake of the duel and more-so the dramatic aftermath of the Dark Lord's final assault upon the powerful Iron Imperator whom had been spirited away into the misty abyss.

The Dark Lord of the Sith looked upon his counterpart with study, taking in the subtle and not-so discreet cues from his facial expressions to the way he carried himself. His voice bellowed, distorted slightly with renewed vigor and utmost glee. Lord Halketh had become everything he had hoped for and more, a worthy claimant to the title of Dark Lord, a worthy heir to the legacy of the New Sith Order.

"Tell me."

He paused, letting the words hang for a brief moment while basking in the lingering negative energies and mystical dark connections to the empyrean.

"How does it feel?"

He leaned in, letting his voice whisper.

"To break your chains."

​