Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Junction The Final Countdown - AC/NIO/EE/GA/Enclave/BotM Junction of Dromund Kaas/Centares/Lutrilla/Aruza/Hypori/empty hex above Sposia


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S C Y L L I A S _ A V E N T O R

Tag(s): Felix Aquila Felix Aquila , Darth Mori

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Dangerous. As far as Scyllias could tell, that was the idea of this world and everyone who ever controlled it, tried to rule it or claimed heritage here. The Praetor decided to go here, because there are dangerous individuals here, even armies of them. So it was not entirely accurate or surprising to hear that there was a dangerous individual here. He did not feel that the young man was a threat or was one of the hostiles they were here for.

"Hmm." The Iokathian pondered about the broad explanation of the young man.

The Paladin of House Atrius was not a man of the people, he was a warrior and a combat instructor. His position came from his skill at arms and loyalty, not his empathy nor his connection to the Force, Scyllias was far from apt in the abilities of Alter and Sense. But he trusted his guts, his instincts and experience. The young man was scared and angry, furious even.

"I will aid you in your endeavour to bring down that Darth Mori ."

"Working together may be paramount, Mori overpowered me last time with her use of the force, but I'm good enough to put some pressure on her. She likes to play games. If she focuses on one of us, the other should take the opportunity to hit her hard and break her focus... Maybe that way we might sta-..."

Aventor was about to agree when the mentioned individual appeared on the stage. The danger was imminent. The woman was a threat without question, to call her dangerous was right but also not entirely fitting the person appearing. He had encountered Sith before, zealots and cultists of the previous rulers of this region. He recognised her aura as one of them. Sith or Dark siders, he did not make a difference, he did not care.

"Give him to me, now. Or no matter where you go I'll hunt you down. You know I can hurt you, and this time you haven't ambushed me."

"You should have accepted your survival and moved on."
"Instead you've chased after something you do not understand."

"What's a single soul to you? Isn't this hindrance beneath you?"

"If you desire your death so badly then come and take it from me - you and he can whet my appetite for the meal that will follow."

"I offer you a final chance to surrender. We outnumber you and your meagre hope in the powers of chaos will prove fruitless."

Scyllias activates his pike, the cobalt blade extending from the emitting end of his staff. He points the weapon at the woman, the faceless mask of his helmet staring at her with cold determination. It was a challenging pose, showing confidence and a certain profession in his trade as a warrior. It was no obvious or known opener for one of the seven lightsaber forms and his shield put another uncommon variable into the coming fight.

Dromund Kaas, Jungle near the Dark Temple


 

WEAPONS: 4 Whimsy Knives, 1 Nastirci Combat Knife, 1 HG-88 ‘Big Iron’ Hand Cannon, K914 SMG, (4) Elemental Grenades, (2) Impact Grenades, Phase X-E CryoSonic Heavy Pistol
EQUIPMENT: Phase II Haywire Armor without force mask UL-13 Corporis Skin Suit, Kirino Visual Interface
TAGS: Onrai Onrai

She stepped into the unknown space of a foreign vessel. Her mind already on a battlefield and tangling with the slippery hold of control from being devoured by the energy she had gathered from the brief contact to her focus.

Brought aboard with what she had on her, she couldn't gather the physical energy or effort to resist the troopers that surrounded her. Only mustering enough energy to glance at them in what appeared to be a dismissive stare.

In truth she was struggling. No. Fighting to exist.

To keep herself tethered to this existance and serve some greater purpose that eluded her thoughts as she listened to the shade give commands. Heard and felt the unknown ship move and crew act accordingly. Unable to resist what was happening.

Her body continued to produce the strange shimmer as heat radiated from her.

The urge to speak was present, to protest, to call for help in spite of the tide that threatened to erase her thoughts and body from existance. Wanted to touch her comm line to reach out to Vella. To reach out to anyone to get her. To snatch her back and take her somewhere safe.

But where was safe?

What was safe?

There was somewhere else in the galaxy that pulled to her now. A beacon in that threatening tide of new energy that promised safety, purpose, and belonging. Tempting in every way to the being that had floated through life aimlessly, loved and hurt, and screamed in frustration at everything important to her escaping through her fingertips.

It wasn't control that was promised to her. But the silken promise of purpose long forgotten. The urgent call to let go of it all and move forward. The tidal wave beckoned her into the depths, her eyes becoming glassy as she stood in silence to all that was happening around her.

 

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DON BELKORA
COMPNOR
DROMOUND KAAS OP

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"On private business, concerning the chancellor and our Atrisian friend," Belkora replied nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders at the replicant like it were an inconvenience at best that Massad was not here. He knew where the Kandaran was, but it didn't concern Yubari; it never did; all she needed to know was what was relevant to the mission at hand, nothing more, nothing less.

"You'll see in time, it just takes time to crack the case, the chancellors motivated by money and greed alone, he'll crack when pressured and when his own assets are at risk."

Tithe was nothing more than a greedy little pig who'd squeal if poked hard enough; at least the hag prior had balls about her and stood tall. He doubted Tithe would rise to the challenge if relationships were threatened publicly. His ascension handed Compnor free reign to begin operations against the alliances core foundations, but with the rise of rebel activity in the border regions and SIA agents snooping around Bastion suggested to Belkora that Tithe may not have been as weak as he appeared.

"Do as you must."

Belkora flicked his cigarra away, nodding at Yubari to go ahead as he and the others carried on. Turning to look in the direction of a row of buildings, where prying eyes lay on the Compnor team with a slight smirk on his weathered face.

Kalie Alverez Kalie Alverez Rika Hiro Rika Hiro

 
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Allies: RIP Carlyle Rausgeber RIP Carlyle Rausgeber // DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran
Enemies: Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen // Anyone trying to take an L


Strike Group Sovereign


"Sir, Admiral Rausgeber has sent his own message to the enemy commander.", the Comms officer offered Orys. He rolled his eyes and moved to sit once more. Older men loved to do their grandstanding - the only suprise in this situation was the enemy commander didn't do the same.​
Still, Rausgeber laid out some self evident truths. Drommund Kaas was far from the Unknown regions - seperated by not only the New Imperial Order, but the Galactic Alliance, and Silver Jedi. For this Sularen to have gotten a super star destroyer, multiple carriers, numerous other star destroyers, and all the escort ships in this fleet past all that implied there was either a yet undiscovered hyperlane between Csilla and the Stygian Caldera, or they were using technology that was far too dangerous to let stand.​
A finger rubbed at his chin before he motioned to his second in command - one Captain Belecross. She saluted and stood at attention as he motioned for her - and his words came quick.​
"The enemy has shown a focus on the Admiral's own fleet. Commands show he wants us to flank - so we will do exactly that. Weapon range on the enemy ships is long, and they are likely fore mounted, so make a wide berth. Bring the ships out to 3,000 kms, and track back in when close."​
His commands were quickly followed before he spoke again to the sensor officers;​
"I want to know about any starfighters or breakoffs from the fleet long before this Sularen even thinks of it himself. Crippling their engines is paramount - and while we don't have the firepower for the larger ships, we need to get in position for the smaller ones. Mind their turbolasers, Lieutenant."​
The ship's bridge came alive, and Orys went back to rubbing his chin. His focus was now on the holoscreen showing the enemy ships firing - looking them over for any overt weaknesses, waiting patiently for his own fleet to get noticed. Soon enough, he imagined, but the more he dragged away, the greater Admiral Rausgeber's odds.​
 
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Objective 1 : Hunt Sith
Location : Dromund Kaas, New Kaas City
Equipment : Signature/Profile
ALLIES | NIO | AC | TE DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran Nukth Kelga'an Nukth Kelga'an Annor E-059 Hoken Stryte Hoken Stryte The Fool The Fool Pietro Demici Pietro Demici Don Belkora Don Belkora Jerec Yularen Jerec Yularen Siv Dragr Siv Dragr Mira Athrani Mira Athrani Morrow Heinrich Faust Heinrich Faust Djorn Bline Djorn Bline Thonn Rokkal Thonn Rokkal Julian Qar Julian Qar Vulcan Krayt Vulcan Krayt
ENEMIES | TSE | BotM | Keilara Kala'myr Keilara Kala'myr Rowena Percival Io Percival Io The Mongrel The Mongrel Kyrel Ren Kyrel Ren Zachariel Steelblood Zachariel Steelblood |
With thanks to : Erion Justeene Erion Justeene


Battle raged all around as Clan Gra'tua emerged from the underground, and they waded into war, moving toward their extraction point, trying not to look backward, knowing what had to be coming all too soon. An issue arose as Vansen saw an auto-alert from the Alor's beskargam. His vital signs were in extremis, and if his advanced physiology was in trouble, he was in serious poodoo. Vansen didn't want to know what could kill a Shi'ido, poison, or some shabla Force horror, she just wanted to make sure her Alor, one of the only beings in the galaxy she trusted, got to a medic before she had to find out. Grabbing Tank and Angry out of the moving melee, she steered the three of them on a rescue course, three Mando'ade rising on jetpacks in the direction of the alert.

In less than a minute, they had reached Stone's position, finding their Alor in pain and helpless, lying in a heap. Some enemies burst upon them as they were gathering his body up, Vansen paused to duck an incoming lightsaber slash, and thrust with her vibrodagger under the Sith's arm, sending a jet of arterial blood spraying into the rainstorm. She didn't even bother to gather the lightsaber as a trophy, as it guttered out in a pool of water, blade hissing water to steam for a moment before it went out. Speed was the order of the day as the ori'rami'kad had to lead her aliit home. Every second, every foot of ground covered, counted now, as the Mando'ade moved to get some distance between themselves and the mess of explosives they had laid under the cityscape.

Figuring their allies in the Enclave and elsewhere would need to get their own people clear and wouldn't send the detonation code right away, Vansen sent her pre-prepared encrypted databurst, flagged immediate urgent priority, eyes only Lord DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran . An image of the Gra'tua death card, along with a map of the mined area of New Kaas City, and the detonation code and frequency. "Happy Life Day." She said, as the foursome made their way back across the city to their escape ship.

Stone needed to get to a medical facility, and the nearest one the Mando'ade trusted was on Taanab, where Anashja Tal Anashja Tal could hopefully be found to tend to the seriously wounded Shi'ido. As soon as the Alor's unconscious body was aboard, Gra'tua's escape ship, loaded with tired and worn out Mando'ade, blasted off towards space, hyperspace, and their destination, at top speed.



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With the southern section of New Kaas City mined with remote detonated explosives, the detonation frequency and codes were sent encrypted to Erskine.
 
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AGENT: KALIE ALVEREZ
OBJECTIVES I - ONCE MORE INTO THE BREACH: OBSERVE AND GATHER ACTIONABLE INTEL ON Don Belkora Don Belkora 's ASSOCIATION WITH COMPNOR.
PRIMARY ENEMY: Rika Hiro Rika Hiro
OTHER ENEMY TAGS: Don Belkora Don Belkora Jordi Massad Kazimir Tragovic



Her back felt a little cramped up against the wall of the roof. She adjusted her position once again slightly, cracking her neck and rubbing it in an attempt to try to release the built up pressure. She blinked the tiredness from her eyes, looking back at the screen on her data pad.

Kalie leaned closer, furrowing her eyebrows as she observed that one member of the group was now absent.


“Well, where did you run off to?” She said nonchalantly as she rotated the camera in different angles, attempting to locate the missing member.

Suddenly Kalie froze, her senses on high alert as she thought she heard a noise on the roof with her. She stopped breathing… stopped moving… listening to try to hear any signs of life on the roof with her.

Nothing.

She quietly set the data pad down and pulled herself silently to her feet, drawing a small blaster from its holster and readying it in front of her with both hands. Kalie slowly and carefully moved towards the X wing, pointing the weapon in suspected directions… looking for a possible enemy.

She reached the X wing and knelt down to her knees, pointing the weapon under the craft… to the left… to the right…

Nothing…

She lifted herself back to her feet and started to make her way around the starfighter, her weapon still in front of her and at the ready for whatever she might encounter. As she turned around the tip of the craft, she swung the blaster quickly around towards the darkness in front if her.

Suddenly she saw a shadow move silently through the darkness...


BLAM BLAM BLAM!

She released three blasts in a progressive pattern, attempting to strike whatever was on the roof with her. The sounds of the blasts echoed across the rooftop, piercing the darkness for a brief moment. Her adrenaline was in full affect now as Kalie's breathing quickened and her eyes widened, unsure of what kind of enemy she was now facing.

“Who’s there?!” She demanded as the deafening silence returned. Her brows furrowed... she had missed whatever it was. Kalie feared that it might be an assassin of some kind. Whatever it was, she was not prepared to fight it head-on.

She wished in that moment that she had never traveled down to this force-forsaken planet.

 
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Location: Dromund Kaas
Equipment: Jedi Armor, Jax's Prosthetic Arm, Jax's Second Lightsaber, Promise Ring to Jairdain
Tag: Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex (Enemy)

Jax felt the Dark Side surging throughout his body, a large figure loomed in front of him. His voice sounded like a stone breaking against the concrete, with the words penetrating Jax's mind. The Jedi Master stumbled back, his entire body weakening like an old building on the verge of collapsing. Echoes of the force screaming in Jax's ears howling for his blood, was this man a Sith Lord? No, this was something worse.... a living wound in the Force. Jax could feel the Dark Side swirling around his heart ready to pounce like a Vulture ready to rip apart the dying prey. Beads of sweat started to form on his brow, as he set his sights on the mysterious figure. "Come on damn it!" Jax thought. "Focus! Remember the cave, remember what you've learned in the cave."

He remembered falling into an inky sea of darkness, the Dark Side telling him to give into power. Jax almost did, why waste all of the effort to attain tranquility when the promise of greatness lay in his fingertips. The seduction of the Dark Side loomed over Jax pleading with him unshackle his chains. Jax wanted to, the light side was too difficult to comprehend and annoyingly vague on what it wants, the Dark Side was truthful and wanted to embrace Jax. Yet the moment, Jax stepped in and embrace the Dark Side he saw the person who was tempting him all this time.

Himself.

It was then Jax knew the purpose of the cave, that the greatest enemy in the path to balance was always yourself. Taking a deep breath, Jax frowned analyzing the enemy before him. The figure wore amor in which Jax assumed was Durasteel or Beskar, his face shrouded with a hood. He also had a Lightsaber on his hilt. The moment, the man unclipped the Lightsaber, a brilliant emerald blade shone bright against the darkness. Surprising the man wielded a green saber. However, that didn't matter he was a Sith regardless of color blade he possessed.

"You know my name huh?" A smirk formed on Jax's face while he called upon the Force to summon his Lightsaber to his hand. A golden blade shot up as he held it in front of him. "Nice to see that I'm among the Sith!"

The Jedi Master cleared his mind and allowed the Force to flow through him, dispersing the Dark Side energies caused by his mere presence. He will free these people whether they're thirsty for vengeance or not. His feet set, Jax leapt into the man opening up with a flurry of saber strikes.


 

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WHERE EVEN THE LIGHT HAS GONE ASTRAY

DROMUND KAAS | JUNGLES | DARK FORCE TEMPLE PERIMETER
BEYOND THE EDGE OF THE UNIVERSE,
THERE'S A KIND OF REAL DARKNESS
WHERE EVEN THE LIGHT HAS GONE ASTRAY
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Invisible force struck dirt, erupting earth upward uselessly. Ishida grimaced at the fruitless outcome of her Force manipulation, but her thoughts lingered not.

If it had been brighter out, not so grey, not so dreary, not so dark, she might have noticed the slight aesthetic notes that distinguished cortosis from any other metal. After all, many a duelist mistook Ashina Steel for the lesser version that struck against her lightsabre now.

"The cortosis blade, that move's an old one, but still clever. I should've seen that coming."

“It’s not cortosis.”
“It’s Ashina steel.”

In an instant, what had been there existed no longer. Where a collision should have occurred, a bark of blades, or a sizzle of flesh, there was nothing but vacant air, momentum, and an opportunist sword plunging straight for her vital zone. Ishida’s trajectory was secured in the mishap, and the point of the sharp edge of her opponent was still faster.

A gasp whooshed through her. Not because of Nightfall’s surprise, but from the voices that ricocheted in her skull. At the edges of her mind, the Sith’s fear spell still lingered. The haunting twist of that dead Jedi's lips whispering disquieting jeers to unsettle her resilience.

That wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t rely on a Jedi’s weapon.

The galaxy is well-equipped to expose the weaknesses of the ancient monks. You fail them with your non-commitment.

Unable to solve this unfortunate fizzle of her blade, sparking at the hilt, she had to come up with an alternative attack.He was fast. With her stature, the atrisian was used to fighting foes larger than her. Many a well-built enemy had refined her reflexes to use her smallness to her advantage.

She tucked into herself, letting gravity triumph and ducked beneath the striking blow. Nevertheless, she felt a jar of the blade against sensitive space between her neck and shoulder, managing somehow to find the space where armour and skin didn't agree to deliver a painful glint of the sword's edge that would have been threatening if she was more stagnant. But she met speed measure for measure, on a set course to plow her shoulder perhaps into the exposed oblique of the Lord and down to her knees. Ever in motion, Ishida tried her favour with gravity and impact, and struck one leg long to kick out and trip, or stagger him for Valery’s advantage, while the other remained bent, poised for her balance with the lower centre of gravity.

Her sabre would be useless for the next set of minutes, and it was relegated to an accessory back on her hip with a swift, unseen motion that also saw her katana to her hand. The weapon she’d trained with since she'd been less than the height of the blade itself, the steel forged in the legacy of Ashina.

Still crouched, she twisted sharply to shift her weight around and draw a back-handed slash at the current knee height. Both to keep him from oppressing down on her and to harm the legs.



ALLIES | GA | AC | ENC | Valery Noble Valery Noble
PROXIMITY: Traden Avarice Traden Avarice | Heinrich Faust Heinrich Faust | Vulcan Krayt Vulcan Krayt
FOES | SITH | BOTM | Darth Kentarch Darth Kentarch
PROXIMITY: Darth Ptolemis Darth Ptolemis | Taeli Raaf Taeli Raaf | Maestus Maestus

 
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Tags: Eina L'lerim-Vandiir Eina L'lerim-Vandiir | Draco Miles Draco Miles | Percival Io Percival Io | Closed
Objective: Kill, Maim, Burn!
Allies: BotM
Enemies: Everyone Else
Links: Weapons | Chosen
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So, she had seen the fabled Manda of the Mandalorians, interesting. From what Zachariel understood, only those who were part of a group would go to a specific after life. It was as he'd said, though there were exceptions to the rule. And it seemed that Eina was one of them, or he simply didn't understand the after life, both were possible. In the end, it mattered little, for the dead could usually not interfere with the living. But the living too could prove to be annoyance, evidenced as Eina spoke once more.

Scowling beneath his helm, he scoffed at her. Had she not heard a word he said, or was she simply ignoring it in favor of what she sensed? Scowl deepening, he stepped closer as he spoke.
"If you still don't understand, you never will. I don't care if I die, so long as my mission is fulfilled, so long as the weakness and stagnation of the galaxy ends. I despise the Jedi and the Sith, because they've waged their petty wars for millennia, and they have nothing to show for it. They have created a galaxy of weakness, stagnation, and repetition. That cycle will be broken, the weak will bow and the strong shall rise." Zachariel saw that Eina didn't understand, thought him to still be the same evil as all the rest. "Those two groups, I care nothing for them, nor will I ever join either of their ranks. I am no puppet to the Force and stagnant factions, I am a warlord of the Brotherhood of the Maw, a herald of the end times! And those times come at the tip of our blades and beneath the tread of our boots."

Snarling low, Zachariel didn't bother responding again. What was he to accept? His own weakness compared to others? He was stronger than any of them, it was no mere physical thing either, but the might he commanded and had built for himself. Eina's ignorance simply didn't let her see that, nor did her naivety allow her to understand what he stood for. But her every question drew her closer to the truth, and an uncomfortable one at that, though for who, Zachariel neither knew nor cared to discover. Thus, he had struck with all the cold fury he possessed.

Blow after blow, slash and stab after jab and cut, he struck forward. She dodged, deflected, or otherwise avoided his blows, yet she still stood little chance. He was simply too enraged to be sated by anything but blood. Eventually he struck true, drawing blood from her, and seeing pain on the face of Ingrid. Grinning sadistically beneath his helm, Zachariel's mind was made up. He liked this little Ingrid, she was more expressive, if naive, than Ingrid currently was. It was good to see, a shame it wouldn't be for long.

However, before he could push an advantage, she had jumped away and was already flying up. Stomping forward warily, he eyed her cautiously, waiting for the next attack. He wasn't disappointed, as she began to glow with the Force. As her radiance expanded, Zachariel laughed, eyes never leaving his quarry, even as she glowed fully with the light of the Force, of her precious Ashla. Such a move had first hurt him, but now did little. He had dulled his senses to the Force, his connection to the Dark Side. It wasn't fully cut off, such a thing was hard to do, and impossible for him. But he did not have those same senses anymore. All he felt now, from his dulled connection, was a distant and faint pain, one easily brushed aside.

Helmet lenses already having compensated for the glare, Zachariel advanced, fully intent on teaching Eina the error of her ways, just as promised. Holstering his axe, Zachariel simultaneous drew forth a heavy blaster pistol. In one smooth motion, he had it aimed at Eina and firing away, never missing a step as he advanced, nor did his laughter abate.


======================​


The first Chosen buried in rubble that Draco met put up no resistance, too busy trying to extract himself from the rubble. This proved to be his downfall, as while their armor may be proof against many things, joints such as the necks were weak points. As such, the blade that cut through his neck left him dead soon after, not having even realized what happened. The second was similarly hindered, though they had the chance to look their killer in the eye and crying out in alarm. That alerted the few remaining in the rubble, who quickly shifted their arms to aim and fire weapons, rather than pull rubble away.

Similarly, those across the way noticed the quick target attacking their fellows. A third of their number shifted fire, stopping from firing at the Neutralizers and other defenders, and instead firing upon Draco. In this time though, another Chosen lost their life, even as the others continued their fight. They were simultaneously pushing themselves out of the rubble and firing upon Draco, others had instead simply halted and continued their fire upon Draco, not moving for they had to focus.

Elsewhere, the fight continued on as well, blades and other weapons clashing, against other weapons or against armor. Percival's situation was no different, though he proved to be far more agile than the Chosen he faced. For her part, she endured the blades that snuck through her guard with nary a sound. Instead, she laughed at the man, eagerly taking in the information he gave. Opening her mouth, she began to respond.
"Well met Percival, your sku..."

Only to be cut off by an explosion. She had indeed not heard the detonator, ears still ringing from the prior explosive. It was such an underhanded tactic as well, one she didn't expect from the self styled forces of good. But as the explosion ended, she felt no more. In her place, a corpse fell to the ground, with severely charred and cracked armor crashing to the ground. The explosive had obviously passed through weak points, or otherwise simply pushed against armor, and squished her, killing her.

He was given no chance to rejoice though, as the Chosen next to them had managed to surpass his foe, and cut him in two. Turning from his foe, this Chosen saw the blasted remnants of his comrade and the man who had done it. Leaping towards Percival, his two swords swung forward, striking at him, even as an inhuman roar came from the Chosen. This roar was echoed by the other Chosen, a war cry that echoed across the battlefield.
"Blood for Zachariel Steelblood, skulls for his throne!"


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II: CLASH OF LIGHT AND SHADOW

Location: Outskirts of the Dark Force Temple
Attire: Standard
Loadout: The Harbinger, Lightsaber
Adversary: Darth Ptolemis Darth Ptolemis



“Perhaps it was unwise of you to escalate the fight.” Traden barked through labored breaths, his lungs still struggling to get back to their full capacity. His injured shoulder was slouched downward… useless. Traden gritted his teeth due to the pain in his shoulder, observing the damaged enemy slowly pull himself back onto his feet, his hand clasped against the wound that had been dealt to his chest. He was lucky he had worn the armor, or else the fight would have surely been over.

Traden had been impressed with the Apprentice’s quick yet sloppy escape from his second strike. He was surely strong with the force… and very gifted…. It was a shame he had chosen the path that he did. “What is your name, Sith? It is apparent you know mine. It is not too late… you can walk away now. I will not follow.” The Jedi Guardian had successfully curbed his thirst for revenge. While he still desired justice, he knew he would not find it in the death of a dark apprentice.

Traden flicked the saber back up to its attack stance as the enemy removed his cloak and glared at the divergent Guardian, his eyes filled with hatred and fury. Truly, Sith were intimidating opponents… If Traden had not already experienced as many as he had in his past, he would surely have been much more intimidated and shaken than he was. But as an experienced master of the force and as a seasoned Jedi, he was not as impacted by the dark persona as he would have been otherwise. Still… it always sent a shiver down the Jedi’s spine, and looking into those yellow eyes caused Traden to grimace.

But then a transformation of evil began to take place before his eyes as the rage seemed to seep out of him and effect his appearance further. The dark side emanated out of him. It was truly a terrifying display. Traden chose to move quickly towards his opponent before the full fury of his intent could be released, however he was too late as the enemy’s palm raised and an immense and unbearable pain corrupted his already wounded shoulder, augmenting it to the point where the Jedi stumbled down to his knees and let out an agonizing scream of pain, dropping the saber into the water as he grasped for his shoulder desperately.

Traden's face contorted into a pain-stricken expression. His eyes lifted up towards the enemy as he extended his good hand out towards the apprentice, attempting to focus a powerful force push into his already wounded chest, and hoping it would send him careening off the edge of the dark oasis.
 
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Lady Eina L'lerim-Vandiir
The First and the Light of Ashla

Heiress and Princess of the Eternal Empire and Terraris; Angelic Mascot and Representative of the Ashlan Crusade
Eternal Empire's Ambassador to the Ashlan Crusade; Matriarch of the Valkyrja; Leader of Sanctuary and the Fjölkyngi Smiđr Guild
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Location: New Kaas City, Dromund Kaas
Objective I.: Save the Children
Equipment: Sverð Fyrstr (swords) | Ljósspjót (spear) | Skrúð Engill Fyrstr (armour) || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m || Current appearance
Writing With: Zachariel Steelblood Zachariel Steelblood | Closed
Allies: AC/EE/NIO/GA/Enclave | Heinrich Faust Heinrich Faust | Isla Draellix-Kobitana Isla Draellix-Kobitana | Draco Miles Draco Miles | The Fool The Fool | Percival Io Percival Io
Enemies: BotM | Open
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[ War Music ]
<"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

All the afterlife was in the Netherworld, only in different parts. In the end, Netherworld was the size of a galaxy, or even a universe. With many, many distinct dimensions. Depending on religion and affiliation, souls were placed in different parts. In a better case. There was also the possibility of kidnapping them or what Zachariel did and sending them to the Avatars, breaking the predetermined circles. Eina and Valkyrja were entirely creatures of the Netherworld, able to get into any dimension unless they were deliberately excluded from it. Of course, countless places have not yet been found by them, such as the Ashlanic afterlife.

"I understand what you're saying, but your thought is wrong." she said. " You say something is a weakness; you see that as a weakness in others. But in the eyes of others, there is a weakness in you too. One of them is that you are unable to accept that someone else is not as good as you in something, or they are thinking differently. You did not answer, what is strong, what is weak? You can't determine because you can't. For some, love is a weakness, while for others it makes them even more powerful. Bogan's path is only deception; you think like a Sith. You hate, you want to destroy. There is another way than that. What you chase, what you want to destroy, what you are chasing, it is just a fake phantasmagoria born of your own imagination that doesn't even exist. If you don’t want to be a puppet of the Force, why let the Dark side and hatred blind you? I'm not saying follow Ashla's path. But you don't have to immerse yourself in hatred and the dark side."

She found the part where the man said he didn't want to be a puppet of the Force really interesting. Eina didn't really understand how he got to that definition. The example of love was perfect for her and Gei. They only suffered when they were separated, but together they were much stronger and could count on each other. She really understood why he thought the way he did. But Eina hoped she would be able to understand with the man why he was wrong.

For Eina, the fact that someone ruled over others had no power, no strength. It was just a mortal thing, not least Bogan's servants, especially the Sith desired this. After the cut, she felt the devaronian blood poison's effect, though fortunately not nearly as intensely as if she really had blood. I mean, real, because this golden ichor was actually Force, in the case of a Force entity, it was "blood." Despite all this, she managed to do the Force Light and shone with the light of Ashla.

Because if she wanted to maintain that, she wasn’t really able to defend herself or keep attention to her environment as Force Light required constant concentration, so her defence was only her armour and her personal shield in total. The Valkyrja didn't see Zachariel raise his gun and shoot her. Eina just felt the shield around her collapse and disappear and something hit her armour at her chest. She felt the pain.

The light ceased from one moment to the next, and Eina slammed into the ground from a height of three to four metres. She coughed in pain as she tried to get up off the ground. The Valkyrja saw the man approaching her and he was still laughing.

Nevertheless, the armour protected her from the greatest damage, though it was painful, but Eina didn't want to give up the fight. She wasn’t the kind of person who gave up anything until she was able to fight…

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Outro.

Traden Avarice Traden Avarice

DROMUND KAAS

Objective II: Clash of Light and Shadow
Somewhere within the jungles surrounding the Dark Force Temple.

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“What is your name, Sith? It is apparent you know mine. It is not too late… you can walk away now. I will not follow.”

The question sliced through his thoughts and impacted him to his core. Indeed, what was his name? Was he Orlov Ansonnir, son of wealthy Fondorian starshipwrights anymore? Was he the deep space explorer, seeker of forbidden knowledge, scholar of events hidden from the history books? Some aspects of his former self became solidified even more; others lived like ghosts in his haunted house of a mind, locked away in abyssal cellars, decaying in the shadow cast by his unholy metamorphosis – his conjoining with the Bogan itself.

A violent gust of air rushed through the dense jungle as Traden Avarice cried out in anguish – a myriad leaves darting across the open terrace. The echoes of the Guardian's booming roar dislodged the Sith apprentice from his hate-infused trance, the powerful sound translated into golden rays of sunlight in his twisted brain. The disorienting scream makes him widen his stance and take a step back, closer to the edge. Then, as the psychedelic colors in his eyes die down, one last glimmer catches the eye of the Fondorian phantom. The glimmer of the Jedi's own lightsaber. In his thoughts, time seems to slow down as the elegant weapon spins around its axis, dead leaves colliding with it as it falls. As if the Dark Side of the Force were to eerily extend its invisible hand, the opportunity is born. All a Sith needs to do is to reach in through the wound and tear out the heart of the moment.

And with great vengeance, the Sith apprentice does.

In a split second, the utterly weakened, almost slouching apprentice snaps his arm at the lightsaber that is breaking through the water's surface tension. His only chance at vanquishing the warrior of the light boils down to this crucial juncture. Through the Force, the chains of his psyche wrap around the weapon and jarringly wrench it back towards him with great momentum. Orlov's eyes widen as the saber rockets towards him. He reaches out with his left hand, water and saliva escaping through his gritted teeth as he fumes with baleful anticipation – and then, a lightning strikes behind him, and the saber and his hand meet.

The sensation flashes through his entire body, taking over every molecule of his material being. As if being galvanized in a sarcophagus of molten rock, his own throat belches forth a blood-curdling scream as the sweltering heat of the Light blares through him. Both harrowing and breathtaking memories flood the headspace of the corrupted apprentice, whose gut reaction is to reject the touch of the Light, yet his clutching fingers seem fused to the holy object that assaults the overzealous apprentice with its punishment. Gripping tight his quivering wrist with his other hand, the Sith drops to his knees in agony as he is forced to process Traden's noble being – his essence leaving behind a blazing seal that shall forever be imprinted upon Orlov's mind. The shivers transfer over to his entire body as he slowly looks up at the Jedi, shoveling layers upon layers of dirt on the call of the Light as he contorts his face and finally replies.
– You… are worthy… to know. – He takes a deep breath. – My name… is Orlov. Ansonnir. Yet the man… in front of you… You shall never see again, for I --- the Jedi's trick worked. He got distracted. A stampeding cloud of water, air, leaves and branches cast by the Jedi Guardian charges at the defeated apprentice and smashes into him head-on. The sounds of cracking ribs and imploding duraplast send ripples through the atmosphere as the helpless body of the neophyte Sith flies off the edge of the terrace, his guttural screams fading to black as he disappears into the unknown depths.
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/ Some time later. /

The Sith apprentice's kaleidoscopic vision slowly settles back into a comprehensible picture. His senses of space and time lazily crawl back into his mind as he turns his head left and right. The first hook of reality is embedded into his chest, the throbbing pain slowly reminding Orlov of what had transpired. His fingers make contact with the physical depression and melted metal in his chest and then the apprentice realizes where he is; deep inside the forest, sitting on the ground at the foot of a tree with his back to its trunk. His left palm still over the central wound, as if his own touch would provide solace from the rippling ache, his right hand touching the muddy ground next to him. He slowly gathers his strength and leans on his right hand, first lifting himself to his knees, pausing to take a deep breath – a bad choice, considering his lungs are likely punctured as a result of the Jedi Master's unrelenting push. Black blood drips down his chin as he spirals into a coughing fit. Suppressing the visceral urge to vomit forth his insides, he finally gets on his feet and stabilizes himself by leaning on the tree once more. After a couple of minutes, his thoughts become clear enough to understand how he possibly could have gotten here; he likely suffered retrograde amnesia following his eventual collapse into oblivion. The hard landing must have been the final straw that broke his body, and in his final lucid moments he fled into the safety of the foreboding jungle. He taps on his pockets, and then, a flash of light unleashes another wave of adrenaline into his brain.

… The weapon. He has it. Something to bring back to his master to prove that his survival means more than mere preservation of life. He is but at the start of his journey down the dark path, yet the hushed whispers of his name shall soon be on the lips of the Jedi – and then, all of the galaxy's. This single thought elevates him out of the mind fog that his painful lesson locked him into, and as he closes his eyes, he feels he is near
The Nycteris.

When next he opens his eyes, they are unlike any color they ever used to be; black, purple and maroon shades reflect the pale moonlight of the jungle as Orlov slowly vanishes into the deep darkness of his surroundings.
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TLDR: Orlov is pushed down the edge of the terrace as the concluding act of the duel, but takes Traden's lightsaber for his own.
Nearby: Ishida Ashina Ishida Ashina Valery Noble Valery Noble Zlova Rue Zlova Rue
Ally: Anja Doreva Anja Doreva & BOTM
Hostile: Everyone.
 
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Vesta

Guest
V

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There Will Be Blood


CLASH OF LIGHT AND SHADOW


In.

Out.


Air sucked into her nostrils and exhaled quietly through her lips, the muscles in her shoulders and back slackening as she listened to her two pursuers prattle on. One who had a fundamental misunderstanding of the situation that he had, apparently willingly, placed himself in, while the other spoke with a confidence that was entirely misplaced. Her eyes shifted from where she could make the two out at the edge of her vision to the trees on either side of her, the muscles in either of her two wrists flexing with the clenching of her fists. She imagined it, then, the figurative chains she had been wrapped in to make herself seem smaller in the years following Bastion, the restrictive bonds holding her back wrapped around the trunks of both trees on one end while the opposite length kept her held in place. As her lightsaber ignited in her left hand she could feel the weight pulling that part of her back disappearing, a chain broken with the purposeful shrugging of her shoulder and tug of her wrist.

She took a half-step towards the two, the metaphorical restraint that remained, tied to her other wrist, shattering in her imagined reality.


"We outnumber you and your meagre hope in the powers of chaos will prove fruitless."

A tightening in her cheek preceded the smirk that snuck onto her lips, visible amusement following not long after. It was a common trope, the luminary with an iron-clad belief in justice paired with the angered hero - and she, the villainous foe they were to vanquish. A laugh that was filled with a deep static escaped from parted lips, as though the very air was shuddering at the grim reality the man that threatened her seemed to miss, and she cocked her head to the side to better suit the shifting expression from humor to questioning concern that transitioned swiftly to disgust. "All I see is fear." She answered, taking a full step towards the two now, feet shuffling lazily across the crumbling grass that wilted and dried underfoot.

"Fear and dead men."

Felix Aquila Felix Aquila had been very much acquainted with the sorts of playful games she made with the force when she was without a weapon, clever uses of the powers it granted only as much as was necessary to match whatever it was that he threw at her, and he'd been given the momentary glimpse of where her true skills lie when she had conjured a blade that she had swiftly abandoned when its use without a pursued lethality became nil - the abrupt sprint she made, her body carried forwards with speed fully empowered by the force, was quite unlike the ludic approach she had given him before. Between then and now she had undergone a paradigm shift, a revelation of sorts, and the plans she had set in motion could not longer be thwarted by those who became aware of the actual threat she intended to present herself as.

She presented Felix with a feint, though the aura of lethality the half-swing of her lightsaber made was very real, and exerted her will upon the force to telekinetically thrust into herself in order to throw her towards the other man - Scyllias Aventor Scyllias Aventor - where the true aim of her blade was directed.

 
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THE FINAL COUNTDOWN
OBJECTIVE I | ONCE MORE UNTO THE BREACH
OPPOSING | TSE | BotM | GA | NJO | EE | AC
PINGS | DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran | Annor E-059 | Hoken Stryte Hoken Stryte | The Fool The Fool | Don Belkora Don Belkora | Stone Gra'tua Stone Gra'tua | Siv Dragr Siv Dragr | Mira Athrani Mira Athrani | Morrow | Djorn Bline Djorn Bline | Thonn Rokkal Thonn Rokkal | Julian Qar Julian Qar | Vulcan Krayt Vulcan Krayt | Rika Hiro Rika Hiro | Kranak Vizsla Kranak Vizsla

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GOVERNORATE DEFENCE FORCE
TASK FORCE TRACHTA | HEAVY SUPPORT GROUP
TODHUSARS CORPS | 1ST ANAXSI FREE BRIGADE | 2ND TODHUSARS REGIMENT LA SAGAIE | 3RD PARACHUTE COMMANDOS COMPANY BANSHEE
EQUIPMENT | HK-01E JUMPSUIT | DM&S AR-MAS F1 RIFLE | CORTOSIS SWORD
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RED-SKINNED RASCALS: COMING TO AN END? — PART. II
— 870 ABY, Dromund Kass atmosphere, dropped.

The void around him was getting warmer and warmer as Kelga’an was getting closer and closer to the surface, to his new lizo. He did not have yet the report from his officers about how many squads reached the initial landing point, but he knew that three fire-teams in the Citadel would be a very good score for this desperate situation. 200 meters. He verified that his antigrav modules worked correctly, to not be surprised when he would use it. The protocols recommended activating the engines 40 meters before the ground, but the captain knew that they could do it in 20 met-...

Something hit his left hip, sending him into a glass panel and breaking it. He first encountered the ground of the building’s floor and then felt that someone punched him in the stomach. With a side roll, he dodged the second attack and tried to get on his legs. Who was this guy? He jumped too fast from the dropship to see what was the situation under his feet and in the air, also because of explosive countermeasures launched by Jerec’s men that blurred the sky. His vision gained clarity, and now he could see his opponent. His — was it her — armor was coming from the Maw, Kelga’an was sure of that, but he didn’t know that the Brotherhood had effective paratroopers units. He smirked to the captain while igniting his red light-saber. « A Sith? » Nukth thought when he saw that. He already met Sith during the Third Imperial Civil War, and on Triple Zero, but he only killed one of them.

The maybe-Sith ran to the Husars, holding his saber above his head. The Sith of Corrie… He was forgetting something, he was sure of that… What happened? … His opponent was about to slice the Anaxsi when he thought about something: the cortosis sword! He rolled again on his side, dodging the attack at the same time and then drew his saber from its sheath, holding it with his two hands. The Mawite looked at him, ununderstanding how the paratrooper could have dodged his first attack. « Come on boy! » Kelga’an roared, « What are you waitin’ for?! » The wanna-be-Sith ran to him for the second time, trying to break Banshee’s armor from the top to the bottom. Calm and static, the captain waited for the Mawites, his blade put horizontally in front of him. When the Sith’s laser sword encountered the cortosis glaive, the red blade suddenly deactivated itself. « Les carottes sont cuites, mon p’tit. » Nukth smirked in answered to the desperate face of the Mawites, lost for the second time of the fight. Scared, he tried to reignite his light-saber but nothing came. Kelga’an did not an ounce of time and planted his own sword in the Mawite’s chest. Some blood flowed from his mouth and the colossus fell to his knees. He put the tip of his boot on his opponent’s chest and he removed the cortosis blade from it. Then, the captain put away his sword and drew his personal pistol blaster, putting the barrel on the Mawite’s forehead and planting his eyes in his gaze.

« You should have worn a helmet, » Kelga’an said, and the shot was fired.
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Banshee Company arrived on the set when Jerec was just lifting off. Dub-Fi came closer to his captain, reporting for duty and asking him what would be the next objective. « Good t’know you’re alive Fi. How many losses in the drop?
Two deaths and half-a-squad which did not report for three calls.
Any wounded?
No, sir, » the Banshee answered while looking to Elward Callahan, the company’s second-in-command, « except you, ‘cause you have been left alone after we dropped.
An’ I’m oski, so don’t be that stressed.
‘Am not that stressed, Cap, » ‘55 replied while taking a look at his datapad, « Damn, orders are changing, sir. A new rodevipa has been set by LORD-GENERAL BARRAN. An’ it’s in the Southern Historical District.
Very good timing, BARRAN, » Kelga’an said to himself before turning his head to face the corporal next to him, « Well, we just got some tanks to lead an assault on another sector, so we can bring our forces to this next location. » Then, Dub-Fi nodded, greeting the officer before he walked to his squad.

Kelga’an got in an Imperial tank, talking directly to the pilot: « C’mon boy, let’s move! » ; then he activated his long-range comlink and contacted Jerec Yularen Jerec Yularen : « Kelga’an for Yularen, there’s a new rodevipa. Banshee Company’s staying on the ground for the moment, we’ve a tanks’ platoon with us. See you in the next skirmish. Over. »

And, as he finished his sentence, the Citadel exploded.​
 
Location: Some Old Ruins
Objective: Capture or Kill Darth Arcanix
Allies: Wyatt Morga // Romi Jade // Coren Starchaser
Enemies: Taeli Raaf Taeli Raaf
Equipment: Coat | Armor | Lightsaber: 1 & 2 | Gun | Arm | Corellian Jedi Credit | Ring
Music Theme

As Wyatt merged into the current, a second or two behind him came Julius, folding space as the Aiing-Tii had taught him to appear right behind his leader and friend, spinning the lightsaber off his bandoleer, with a schink of the Echani borne compression tech coming to life, the shoto grew to a pike length which he spun around and behind his back to snap-hiss a silvery-green blade that shone forward at the ready, a much shorter second blade staking out from the hidden emitter in the pommel.

For the first time since he had fallen into himself over his wife's death, he felt the presence of the gem powering the saber, another gift from the Aing-tii, and he adjusted his stance just slightly, poised so to easily intercept any threat to Wyatt and let him do the talking, which he affirmed with a nod to the former grandmaster.
 
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Objective I: Engage in a fight for Sith Ruins!
Location: Dromund Kass, Southern Pole
Equipment: Sword, M.I. Beskar'gam Mk.1 M.I. 'Sunstroke' jetpack M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol, M.I. Model 12 shatter rifle x2, Thermal Detonators, Magnetic Detonators, Perun's Call
Tag: Mairéad Solus Mairéad Solus


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It worked, he had prevented Mairead's movement up, but in his haste, he didn't think of the aftermath, he had only thought of the short term solution. Now he is trapped upstairs. He peeked up from where he took cover, the scorched walls glinting with frost. He chalked it up to the Pole temperature. But his main problem now is to find a way out of his cage, he boxed himself in and he needed to be mobile again, he can't stake out here indefinitely and his jetpack was still offline, and he doesn't have anything to fly out with. He needs to get some jet boots for the next time he winds up in this situation.

But he remembered he had the whipcord, he can get out and swing down the other side, the stones crackled ominously, it will certainly give. Vulcan shivered, it was becoming less simple to ignore the plummeting temperature now. The Beskar'gam thermal regulation is staving off the full chill but not all of it. He heard Mairead, she was calling him, but it was a dare, a dare to finish her off. He got to the window and using his Whipcord, he abseiled towards her location. A Mandalorian never says no to a challenge, and challenges are fun. This one was completely on the fly, he's never faced anyone like Mairead before.

After a minute he reappeared in front of her, she was down and there is something off about her, her hair is defying physics and the air-cooled further, even his Visor began to get a thin frost film. The floor was slippery and he had to change his stance so that he doesn't fall over or slide into the hole because that will suck. Shai wouldn't like him to fall to his doom down a hole.

<"No exceptions."> He replied, levelling his blaster at her head once more.
 
Slightly Paranoid Apprentice
They were simultaneously pushing themselves out of the rubble and firing upon Draco, others had instead simply halted and continued their fire upon Draco, not moving for they had to focus.
As the thickest of the fire started to erupt, and Draco focused purely on dodging and deflecting, Eina’s force light send her flying to the side, concealing her behind some rubble while she regained herself and took some of her powers back. Their restrictions from being under rubble gave for difficult angles to hold and barely any movement, to which she could use to her advantage. Those that had tried to free themselves found their guns yanked away and thrown so they could not use them, and those that remained trapped under the rubble she’d focus on. Rushing up and mainly focusing on stabbing or slashing their necks. The less people she had shooting at her, the easier her job was.

Percival Io Percival Io Zachariel Steelblood Zachariel Steelblood Eina L'lerim-Vandiir Eina L'lerim-Vandiir
 
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"I know far more than that," threatened the hooded figure.

Vibrant gold clashed against sickly green, incandescent sparks of light shunting off each blade as they struck one another. The hooded figure only gave ground incrementally, moving when it was advantageous for him and holding his position when it was not. His style of dueling was very mechanical as well, with no overt flourishes or dazzling displays of swordsmanship; every move was made with the full intent to maim or even kill his opponent. Near-misses and narrow margins of error would show that despite the Sith Lord's fighting style, he was no slouch when it came to precision and lethality.

The dark figure held his lightsaber in his right hand, his dominant hand, but kept his left in reserve by holding it against his back. It was only whenever he caught the Jedi Master in a saberlock, brief as they were, that his left arm shot around with a dazzling torrent of Dark Side lightning that stabbed violently through the air.

Over the clamor of their duel, the mysterious figure's voice cut through like a knife.

"I know where you come from, Jaxon Thio, before you were abandoned at the Silver Jedi Temple." The figure displayed a worrying knowledge of the Jedi Master's background, something that few in the galaxy would know outside of those that took in and raised the young child.

"I know who your parents are."



 

Historical District, Kaas City,
Dromund Kaas (870 ABY)


Marić had removed his helmet, but only because he lost his Kukri and his rifle, resorting in these moments to beating his next opponent to death with the heavy trooper-helm he'd removed for the purpose, and all because a little rock decided to slip away from his grip instead of remaining still to aid grip-purchase. In something of a tantrum, the decision to use his helmet as a weapon had not came out of a sense of necessity, it had arisen out of sheer indignance over the fact he couldn't even pick up a jagged rock on the ground; and if Shazzeke had known, being preoccupied with foes of his own, the Mirialan would've laughed uncontrollably - and would in finding out in the moments after the smoke had cleared on the city. Silly, at least it was for someone like the Mantellian, but the fight continued around him regardless, so Marić continued using his helmet to bash through skull and brain-matter with very little consideration for the fact it revealed his face to his enemies.

*'Ko je sledeći?!'
**
"Who's next?!"

A slightly youthful face, though with a strong jawline and heavy with thick stubble, seen with the light olive-skinned complexion that revealed young Branko's heritage more easily; a tad fair-haired for his kind, due to the light-brown hair of his mother's ancestry, Marić certainly possessed features that wouldn't be forgotten by his surviving enemies any time soon. Especially not with the nasty scar that paled the brown of the iris on the Lieutenant's right eye, stretching down from above his eyebrow, right down to his right cheek as if a singular eagle's talon had ripped at it with intent but failed at the pinnacle moment. Whatever horrors were expected by the factions of the Bastion Accords, none would ever expect the worst to appear in the eyes of an Imperial, and certainly not in the eyes of a Sabretooth-trooper, at least not until it was much too late to do anything about it.

However, the Mantellian's mood would lighten somewhat, especially when the Elite-trooper who was brawling to his right-hand side at the time, kicked Marić's rifle across the ground to land at the side of his right boot, ending the tantrum almost immediately as young Branko nodded his appreciation over to Annor, to which a quick, curt nod was given in reply.

*'Predviđen za TRACHTU, onu.... Drži se, mali.'
**
"Destined for TRACHTA, that one.... Stay the course, kid."

Pulling his helmet back on, Branko chuckled and shook his head at how silly he was being before then, clipping and airtight-sealing it before picking up his rifle again as the slugfest continued on relentlessly around him. Beheadings, dismemberment, shotgun blasts at point-blank range, there was no doubt that both sides of this riot wished very much for the annihilation of the other, and were very much looking to finish whoever stood in their way to the last. Then, after bayonetting a short, stocky raider through the throat, the Mantellian was once more granted time to breathe, and to think on his situation as it developed. With the gurgling Mawite choking on his own blood at his feet, young Branko couldn't help but inwardly praise the Lord-General's sudden discovery of a wilder war-fighting method, pondering on the damage it was doing to the fighting Morale of their enemies as everyone else fought, bled, prevailed or perished around him.

*'Onda oslobođen sopstvenih okova? Dobro.... Gledaš li, Massoud?'
**
"Freed of his own shackles then? Good.... Are you watching, Massoud?"

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THE LAST DANCE: BARRAN'S FAREWELL TO THE SITH EMPIRE - PART 11
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Historical District, Kaas City,
Dromund Kaas (870 ABY)


'It does.'

DUUUuuuummmm....

Utterly shocked for a moment, Lord Erskine had no choice but to draw back and briefly think on the ancestral implications it had for his family's older generations, and the implications it held for the rest of the Goidels in general - thought not half as much as the Woads in particular. If the Woad-Macushla had, as the sword's ornate smith-work was suggesting in that moment, had travelled the same stars Thrast dreamt about in years either just or long before the warrior-poet was born, then it most-certainly would've been a Barran that travelled the stars as the Stormchaser had as an exile. However, Blade didn't have time to allow for introspection, and in this moment, Erskine realised he didn't have any time for the likes either. However, in true Barran fashion, the Lord-General would still find something to pass comment on along the way, especially in seeing what trick the old Darth had up his sleeve, but sabre and claymore would have to clash a few more times in order to facilitate the right moment to implement it.

'Good, now try t'keep up.... AGAIN!!!!'

Attempted strike-interceptions, faked overreaching movements, low swipes, all would be attempted in their next engagement, with both duellists moving in a much more efficient fashion by then. Finding their rhythm with ease as the duel itself quickened and raised the overall intensity of their not-so-mismatched bout for survival. Kyber and composite alike would rush through the air with a speed that was almost too fast for the observing Mandalorians to follow, though fortunately for the tech and design of their helmets, the only ones who would be able to follow every little segment would be the warriors of the Enclave and 16th Company, and they were being given something of a truly-rare delight that day. To see two older warriors duelling with an explosiveness that would fool others into thinking they were younger, such that would surprise any younger warriors in general would have been quite an eye-opener for those lucky enough to see it for themselves - but Blade still wanted to try a trick or two to turn the tide anyway.

They were facing off against each other with one-handed grips, slashing out with no discernible use of their left hands in the melee, perfect conditions for what the Darth had in mind.

'Fuckin' quick, man-'

As fun as this bout would have been for Ice, he knew that his chances of victory would only remain for as long as he was making matters difficult for Barran, and he believed the recently-found Beskar knuckle-dusters were the key to achieving exactly that. Dropping under a probing lunge, Blade had found Erskine's left arm rolling forward in an effort to keep balance on the lateral escape he was starting to endeavour above, slipping one of the knuckledusters over the fingers of the left hand before driving upwards towards the engineered workings of the cybernetic left elbow. Deftly applied, but the resulting clunk had rung out to confirm something was yet to be fully realised on the matter, and before the Woad finished the last steps of his outward escape, the sound was loud enough to reach Barran's ears also - giving the Lord-General no choice but to turn around and see what exactly had caused the noise.

'Oh, I see.... Beskar, of course. But wrought by Mandalorians? No - Sabretooth-QMs. Primitive stuff, hence why there's nothing infused.'

Bringing out his own Beskar knuckledusters, the Lord-General smirked as he pointed out the simplistic, almost-blocky design of his favourite pocket-weapons, drawling,'Against metal plate or trooper-armour, useless. Much better for smashing bones, tendons and flesh instead.... Old-school, but I figured we'd both accord in our appreciation for that sort o' stuff. You can keep yours if ye killed for 'em, if not - keep 'em anyway. Good knucks, y'know?', like he was giving a small presentation to his subordinates on Bastion all over again. But more of the unexpected awaited them, this time arriving in the form of the clearance code for the rigged explosives several levels beneath their feet, and in that moment, Lord Erskine sniggered before muttering,'Best hold onto something if you want to keep this fight going.', as his index finger set all the charges to detonate with a wary eye to the northern walker-filled horizon.

'Without Chaos and Order locked in with each other, neither is seeing their full potential.... Watch this, Ice. When the smoke clears on this world - I want you watching for the Galaxy's reaction to this!'

Pressing down to confirm all charges to detonate at the same time, Barran's overkill wasn't there to scare his opponent, it was just the Darth's poor fortune to have wandered into the middle of a Lord-General's greatest gamble yet; and in the moment his thumb pressed down to set the chain-reaction into motion, everyone would know what sort of man Lord Erskine had become since Csaus, what sort of mind was guiding his actions after seven years of Imperial service. They'd either think him a complete madman, or a complete menace, but what the Woad knew, in the very moment the ground began to shake violently around and beneath their feet, was that all would look on his actions and wonder what state his mind was in at the time. Exactly what the old war-criminal was prepared to do, no matter how badly Erskine wished to be anywhere but Dromund Kaas that day, so there would be no issues or restraint for as long as the planet itself disgusted the Lord-General.

'HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA!!!!!'

Then, before Lucid could respond with any quips or insults, the ground would give out beneath them both and see them plummeting and making contact with almost every ledge on the way to their next fighting arena, tumbling from open-air civilisation - falling into the dust and gravel of what had been their first arena. Both would be roughed up, bruised and bloodied on their heads and faces, but all the damage would be superficial in the end, even if Blade and Erskine snapped out of their stupors in the worst of pain for a few moments.

But that mattered very little in the grand scheme of things,
Kaas City's Historical District was in complete, mildly-cratered ruin.

The civilian death-toll was clear to see at first glance, as the very rubble itself was lined with the bodied of the locals, falling from jaw-dropping heights to perish in the wasted remains of their homes below; even as the two duellists lay on the ground, just a few metres away from each other, the debris, gravel and corpses would continue to litter their arena with nothing but deadly threats to their existence. However, whether friendlies and enemies alike elsewhere survived was a different guess entirely, giving Erskine's gamble even more questions in the air in the moments after he came back to the conscious, waking world around him. But for the time being, as the entire district was falling to ruinous destruction, Ice and Barran would subconsciously continue attempting to wake up, working against previous knocks to the head that would keep most unconscious for hours after the fact.

Suck - on that.... Sith-scum. Fare thee well - in obscurity.
 
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