The Final Days...[Cessation of Selvaris]

[Reverance]

Lips peeled back, a silent snarl and show of a teeth, an animal unsure of the purpose behind a gesture. Skin pulled away from the touch, only to further lose confidence in the recoil, as he looked towards her and towards her Parkeljni. Recall came in the feeling of familiarity, washing away with the coming tide, as he turned his head back against her hand, a beast scratching itself upon coarse trunk. Scarred visage, leather tanned by the waging of war and blood used for laquer, he closed his eye. Thoughts of madness moved on, the grip he had so tight upon the neck of it, the blue fading to white. Would he kill it here now, on this holy mountain, for the universe to see? Or would he, as always, merely bury it deep to once more be yanked out with fanciful whims? The threads of his mind, unraveling to the woes of a fickle spirit.

The blade crawled back into the hilt, legs of the armor crab clinging to it once more with envy and hate, hate for the power and envy for the attention. That with the open wounds upon his back, the Vonduun clung just a bit deeper, wrapping around nerves and flesh alike, so that one might not know where the chitin ends and the flesh begins.

"Close my eyes...bend for you?" The crimson reflection of the pale woman staring back, it shut softly as he breathed in quietly, wondering if he had done something wrong. Or if he even knew what that was anymore. Or if he even cared. He doubted it, to all of those questions, he doubted it fiercely.

With blade extinguished and hilt removed, the voxyn hand lifted to grip hers, a smile not sinister or evil, but warm. A thought that reminded him of the convection of chaos, that entropy is not too different from flares scorching the surface of a sun. In waves, he could ride it out, he could temper it. He wouldn't be this victim, not like his pathetic excuse for a brother. And with the fresh smell of blood, the sound of flesh ripping from ligaments and tendons, he opened his eye and looked towards the corpse. Making eye contact with the hazel one left, fidgeting with each tug of the beast at sinew, the eye blinked with fleeting notions of pain. Reverance smiled, the man sent on his way with the agony he should have known all along. One final gift, from brother to brother.

"He was nothing...and I am free of it. Will you keep your promise?" Eye turning back to Ygdris, his other hand gripped beneath her breast plate, he tugged at her just as the beast tugged at the dead clone. "Will you save me for last?" It wasn't that he wanted saving. He desired this promise, to know that one day it would end. By her hand or by Matsu's, or maybe both. Like that painting he had seen so long ago on Annaj, man torn apart by wolves beneath and blood hued eclipse. He persisted on that prophetic promise, the hope that someday, it would finally come to an end.

[member="Vrag"] | [member="Lying Hound"]​

 

[Vrag]

The world at the edges of her vision started to fade away, as if someone had held an open flame slightly too close to a piece of cloth. With a hiss, the red tongues greedily engulfed the unwitting offering, and Vrag watched with a staggering lack of interest how the foot of the hill caught on fire. Dry earth, dry twigs, dry grass; the circumstances could hardly be better.

In the distance, another mountain lazily crumpled from its heights, reduced to an undignified shower of boulders, jet black against the bright horizon. Even though night was falling, the skies only seemed to grow lighter as the flames rose ever higher. In the end, they would meet the same fate as the Wrath and the Hand; in reckless, boundless avarice, they would consume everything that gave them sustenance. Snuffed out by one's own hunger.

A fitting end for two Lords of the Sith, no?

She followed his flitting red gaze, giving a light squeeze to the clawed hand resting upon the Vonduun of her own.

"He's... still alive," she remarked, bewilderment glancing across her expression before she focused on the creature tormenting the fallen clone. Some sort of… hound, by the looks of it, though gore and entrails obscured much of the beast. Just as well. Most likely just another creation in the broad repertoire of the Legion's shapers; its size, sharp scales and killer instincts all spoke of a Vong origin.

[member="Reverance"] demanded her attention back, however, and Vrag never realized that the monster wasn't actually absent in the Force like the usual Shaper spawn.

Her icy gaze met his wide-eyed stare, iris the color of blood around a pinprick of a pupil. Was he going mad? The desperate grip on her Vonduun, the curve to his lips, the cracked timbre of his voice… they all screamed one thing. The parasite Rev had excised from his body and mind had been his last – or perhaps the only – anchor to reality, and now he was slowly slipping out to sea.

Ygdris didn't quite know if she preferred him sane or not, but she would have him regardless.

"Always."

A quiet vow, easily drowned out to the rapacious crackling of flame as it made its way uphill, nearly encircling the duo – trio? – at this point.

Her hand fell to her side, and the woman took in the sight of the beast's arched back and blood-stained mouth, then let her eyes slip to the [member="Lying Hound"] on her right. The ravenous monster looked like an inncuous pup compared to the crab-encased form of the Wrath.

"You like it raw, huh?" she asked the hunched animal, taking a step closer. "There will be plenty more where we're going."

"Always."

 

[Quietus]

A brief pause stilled the shivering corpse as the beast turned eyes of glowing coals upwards towards the pair. The attention of the woman could be felt by it more than anything and though her words fell upon ears that were more than capable of understanding, the wrenching instinct of its gut left no room for friendly association. A snarl tore deep from its belly and burst from its maw in a threatening flash of fangs. Armored mandibles surged forth, latching onto the flesh of the bounty and pulling it beneath the tanky bulk.

A beat, a lash of a tail that whistled through the air fanning flames at its hindquarters, nostrils flaring. With no further moves made by either being the hound return to its feasting with renewed voracity. Flesh pulled from carcass in ribbons, red smeared along snout, muzzle and claws. The glistening of organs in the light of the fire as they bounced freely in the grasp of tender jowls before sliding down to gullet whole.

There might be more where they were going, but there was plenty here right now.

[member="Vrag"] [member="Reverance"]

 

[Reverance]

A promise given, a promise kept. Even a Sith could know hope for something he desired, something entirely out of his control. A hand drawn through the chasm of his chest, heart ripped out for the freedom of a mind to wander as it chose, he longed to look up. To see the nails pulled out, two coats of red, and the quickening of his own end. If he closed his eye, thought as hard as he could, he could almost touch the heat of it, that quiet warm soothing embrace. The end to some calamity, all he had ever known, never an ounce of stability except when in his presence. Realization came with a lazy draw of the eye, to the haggard form of himself, manifested with some transferred spirit of the soul chiseled away. Stuck in a petri dish, injected at his own pleasing, he mourned that sense of control and the wisps of its memories, fluttering on by amid charred smoke and the smell of fresh carcasses, rotting in the dry wind.

Eye lifted quietly to the deceased man, once living for the speculation of the Hand, now clearly careening far off the edge. Do cloned imprints know the afterlife? Would there be an army of himself, waiting in the netherworld, to seek recompense for the suffering he inflicted upon them. Wiggling and worming now in the den of the laboratories, watching an old man bleed to death, only to know that hope for their own survival died with him. The thought warmed the Wrath, their suffering, but he felt a sudden dread for the realization. He didn't know what waited for him, yet it was the finish line he rushed towards. Madness, it was what he wanted and knew, and even in the lucid state brought about by briefest intimate touch, he couldn't deny himself. A rush of adrenaline at the prospect of hell and the torment that followed, those crushed beneath his heel might find inflation and become the weapons used against him. Riveting, revolting, a taste at the prospect came in the biting of his own tongue in anticipation. A trickle of blood, a raw soreness, he tasted metal as his focused pushed back towards the back of Ygdris.

"Monuments of corpses, pyres to light our way..." Prophetic vision turned burning mountainscapes into roiling pyramids, hands of the indigenous and Yuuzhan Vong alike, all tugging at empty while adhered together, molten slowly overwhelming them. The world was burning now, the Gramuteks had done as they were commanded, forever loyal to the very end. Chrom-Vrone dragging them into the very pits of this hellish world, to reveal the festering and decrepit wounds beneath. The greatest bloodletting the universe might ever know, the greatest destruction to ever leave a planet in the wake. Crumbling in space, blackened and blue, glass of black reflecting back into space the greatest fears the One Sith might ever know. That even within the boundary of their great domain, against planet heralded as home for the most loyal, betrayal could take any form. And now, it did so in the form of a great army, abandoning the Dark Lord.

Looking back towards the follower of Ygdris, he pierced the woman with a long stare, talking from the side of a tired grin. "Come then, Hand. Beast. Sup on other prospects." Coiling the force around the body, chew toy for this hound, Reverance lifted and flung what pieces were left into the sky with a low arch. Scraps and bone now, scatted to the winds, sizzled upon landing on sharp stone and hellfire. He was ready to go, to carve whatever path was needed before leaving this place.

[member="Vrag"] | [member="Lying Hound"]​

 

[Khallesh]

[member="Kur-gal Kwaad"]

The macabre mood had settled over everyone at the gathering. This was perhaps their darkest hour since the Republic took back Alderaan. Khallesh was by no means an empathetic Yuuzhan Vong, even if she knew to recognise key signs in her subordinates that could affect their ability to fight.

Yet as morose as she was, recognising some sign of the proud warrior’s state upset her further. At this moment she wanted nothing more than to lash out, to fight, to satiate her aggressive impulses. But that could solve nothing. They could throw themselves at their perceived enemies until the last of them fell, a glorious last charge that the infidels would soon erase from history. Or they could tear themselves apart with infighting. For now they needed to gather and think. So many Warriors crammed into so few ships. There were difficult times ahead. Her back teeth ground together and she planted her leading foot, coming to an abrupt halt. Lips pursed she turned back over her shoulder towards the Slayer.

“We will find our place, or we will take it,” she stated adamantly, before continuing her walk to the edges of the gathering. A lowly subaltern, busy gawping at the ruins of the distant peaks, was shoved to the floor for not moving aside. Seeing him crawl away through the mud didn't even lift her spirits a mite.

 

[Vrag]

She rubbed her brow, or would have, if she weren't wearing the damn helmet. Even after all these years, after all these incidents – amusing, and less so – after all these killings… Vrag still forgot herself from time to time. Her clawed hand scraped uselessly against the coarse surface of the crab shell clinging to the skull, serving only to wake Lammie up.

The amphistaff peeked out of her hiding place in the mouth of the cranium, slithering through the ash-filled air with a flex of its powerful muscles. There was an elegant arch to its sinuous spine as it curved back over her right shoulder, through a narrow funnel between the plates and down, down, all the way along her extended hand. It was a rare occurrence, to see the beast uncoil to its full length, and all the more impressive for it; at two meters, the amphistaff was a third shorter than most of its peers, yet it still reached well further than the splayed fingers of the woman.

An inquisitive tongue – forked, three times – darted out between rows of sharp, deadly fangs, and Lammie locked gazes with the creature. As the [member="Lying Hound"] bared its teeth, so did the snake, and so did the last of the three. All of them had known flesh and bone and blood, and all of them would know it many times again. Nature of the beast; the insinct ruled the amphistaff and the feral dog as much as it ruled Vrag and [member="Reverance"].

Or, well, whatever they would choose to call themselves. Vrag was the Hand of the Dark Lord, Reverance was his Wrath; the monikers could hardly stay. No, that just wouldn't do.

She watched the now nameless man fling the gored remains of his clone down the slope of the hill, cold eyes tracing the sharp lines of his face. So many things had changed since the first time she'd met him, all the way back on Manaan. They'd been surrounded by war and strife, of course, the lot of them. [member="Matsu Xiangu"] had lost her arm there, on the bridge to the generator. The vivid memories brought an unbidden smile to her face, and Vrag lingered for a few breaths longer before Ygdris finally shook her off.

"Come here, Lena," she spoke quietly, curling a finger towards the woman standing off on the sidelines. The girl approached with a calm she could appreciate, and a lack of fear she could never hope to understand. Just as well.

Like a snake slipping off its mold, the firrerreo sidled lithely to the side, releasing the broken neck from her grasp. Darth… something collapsed face-first in the dirt with nothing more than a soft thud, her armor reeling against the rapidly cooling cadaver.

"Shh, now," the woman cooed. "It'll all be over soon."

With that, she turned her gaze back to her long-time companion and gave him a small nod. It wasn't exactly clear whether she was talking to him or the dying Vonduun, and the woman never bothered to clarify. Instead, she stepped past the man with a single long stride, drawing up to the side of the hound. Carefully, the firrerreo reached out and to place a hand between its knife-like shoulder blades, a gesture meant to soothe the creature so that it may accompany the pair.

In the absence of the final beast, they would have to make do with the third.

 

[Quietus]

Temper hot as the fires surrounding them gave way to stubborn aggression. The hound clung to its meal as it was torn away by the disembodied will of the Force, the dull splintering of bones within the locked jowls echoing through a rancorous snarl. It leaned against the pull, massive skull wrenching to one side and tearing the limb free as the remainder sailed over flames and tumbled, ragged flesh and sinew and flouncing structure alike, down the mountainside.

There was a forearm and mangled hand in the hound's mouth as [member="Vrag"] approached, nearly gone for the sheer size of the beast's maw large enough to engulf the woman's head whole, helmet and all. It chawed and chewed to the crunching of bone and the further snapping of tendon, drool and blood and flesh clinging to the flashes of pointed fangs. Severed and grated fingers fell to the ground as it greedily mouthed the quickly forming slurry and with a slap of its tongue swallowed the rendered limb and mandible whole.

A hand was on its withers, having to reach upwards just to make the simple contact, and the beast shivered with the eruption of a snarl, armored plating frilled to hackles beneath her fingers. Something of distant recognition sat within firelit eyes as its skull swung around to snap at the offending arm. Familiarity was a fickle friend indeed, but leave it to a monster to recognize another monster in the waking stages of satiation.

Blood bubbled and frothed at the corners of its mouth, falling in a surge of fresh saliva in large toxic strings of drool. The beast turned away without further protest, armored tail curling and sweeping around Vrag's body as it slowly stalked off over walls of fire and down the hillside path that would lead to somewhere...

[member="Vrag"] [member="Reverance"]

 

[Reverance]

The remaining eye, all semblance of the sanity that twisted upon splintered tether, it twitched at the movement of the Hand. A body lays idle where the mind stalks, taking in each step as if he could survive on merely the movement hidden deep beneath chitin. A long breath, inhalation of soot and death and burning carbon, stood at the gate for something he felt was coming. Rows of eyes, pinning through the bar, whispers and clicks of crab all waiting for the thing they knew would soon cross the threshold. The call of a friend, or maybe just an ally, were the black steps that led to the edge. And with that resounding crack, worlds opening up around them with eruptions and the clap of thunder, Reverance slowly smiled. Another body, another corpse, another culmination of nothing swept away for their purposes. Purposes he clung to, gripping that tether once more, it was all he could muster to maintain it.

With her nod and the movement back towards the beast, he watched quietly for the interaction. And as the Hound took to the catwalk of flames and embers, his Voxyn hand lifted to find fingers sandwiched between collar bone and armor. The armor wrestled against the proximity, feeling the presence of the force hunger reflected back on it, and he felt the back pins burrow deeper into skin. A warm smile for the warmest of worlds, embracing and indulging to the very end, he stepped forward and hopped down one step to the ledge below that would take him back down to the surface. A dark void of entropic force, self fulfilling, pulling on the umbilical cord of the very planet. With enough of a clamor, they might yank it out, just to see the world hemorrhage into space.

"Come then, Ygdris..."

Stone cracked beneath his weight as he watched the beast disappear beyond a wall. Placing the voxyn mouth against it, feeling the fire through the squeal of the beast and all its tremors, he jumped over the wall and came crashing down upon burning fields. Fires licked at what remained of the lambent fields, burning Harvesters moved about in ever vanishing domains, the limbs of the dead lost in their fights for territory - engineering that would destroy every one of them, until nothing was left. Beasts flapped across the skies, moaning eulogies of their own tongues, as Sliviliths scooped down and picked up the extolled who had been left behind. They were never worth much, especially not space on a vessel to leave this place.

Head on a slow crane turning, he watched as the world cried out for vengeance for what had been done. All the life, all the shelter, all the sustenance, and this was it's repayment? A debt that demanded compensation, Selvaris could look towards the One Sith and the Dark Lord for this abuse. To be born again, through fire, it was all that Reverance could want for his home. To be fatally wounded, to crust over and heal into something maimed and repulsive and more powerful than ever. It was a fate fit for this planet, if only it could see it. But it was blind now, in pain, and hell bent.

He spotted a large chazrach scurrying across the field, the burning reeds bending in it's wake. With a gust of force, he pushed forward in a snap hiss of the insanity of the Soulsaber seeping deep into his very flesh. The lizard gave a hiss of the tongue as it stepped back, the black beam all that was needed for intimidation. Without any sign of provocation, the beam slashed across, removing limbs from the lower body and sending stumps to the ground.

[You have survived this long. You've earned this pain.] Rows of teeth spit out the now cursed language as the beast toppled before the Wrath, rolling over in slippery hisses. Reverance gave a smirk as he looked to the path before him, walking slowly back through the reeds to emerge in the fields and ever closer to the intended destination. It seems what prospects he offered were scant offerings indeed. The Hound would likely resent the bitter taste of fearful chazrach, nearly dead and dying.

[member="Vrag"] | [member="Lying Hound"]​

 

[Khallesh]

[member="Vrag"]

Those scattered fires had become sparkling jewels on the inky landscape. What remained of the distant mountain was now a blazing inferno that stood brighter than all the others. The rumbles, crashes and thunderous roars had become an almost constant backdrop now. The world was in its final throes of death. Thick ashen clouds hung low in the air, yet the living Yuuzhan vong vessels escaping in droves were still visible when the wind so changed.

Smoke billowed as Khallesh Val’s mount furiously flapped its wings to arrest its momentum. The creature was jittery, but would follow her commands til the last. As she slid down, keen eyes scanning through the murk, she gently patted its flank.

She was nothing more than an angular silhouette against the dark vista of Selvaris’ final moments. Gradually becoming more clear as she stalked through the ash that lingered in the air, falling with a slow grace. Her eyesight was that of a Hunter, genetically altered millennia ago and improved upon with generations of selective breeding and further meddling from the Shaper Caste. Khallesh effortless recognised the poise of movements of one she had fought beside.

“Vrag Val!” she called through the gloom.

 

[Vrag]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bKxCWxmV1KY​

The jaws snapped closed around the thin air where her arm had been just a moment ago, pieces of meat and blood spraying every which way. What landed on the ground would soon turn to a red mist from the sheer heat rising on the slow-cooking surface of the planet, and the bits that splattered across her armor would be consumed just like the main dish had been. With gusto.

"Bad dog," she reprimanded, but in her voice there was a smile. The madness, it seemed, was infectious. Maybe it was the advent of apocalypse, or maybe the vicinity of [member="Reverance"], but whatever the cause, the firrerreo felt far more reckless than usual. There was an abandon to everything they did now, to the thrum of every heart still left alive on the dying world. As if the thick lattice of vein and muscle knew that end was fast-approaching, and trying to squeeze its last few miles before time ran out. She wanted to tell it no, wanted to claw at the pesky organ until it quieted its pounding against her ribs, but the rational side of her splitting mind held her back.

The slivers of insanity feasted on the agonal cries of Selvaris, seeds of Wrath writhing up her spine with intent and purpose that brought the taste of blood and bile to her mouth. The hysterical amusement drained away with a cool shudder, the feeling of cold dread a complete antithesis to the inferno raging around them.

Needing no further ecouragement, the woman stalked down the slope on the heels of a crazed and a [member="Lying Hound"], never once glancing back; neither at the mangled remains of the clone, nor at the stilled body of the last of the Twelve. When she rejoined the two beasts at the foot of Uulyn Gal-tu Yun'O, the taller of the two had already finished cleaving a fleeing worker in half with that accursed black blade of his, spitting the harsh syllables at the halves twitching on the ground before him.

She was about to grab his elbow to lead him away – with or without his consent – when a familiar voice rang out from behind them, prompting her to pivot around towards the source.

[member="Khallesh"] Val.

A string of memories ran unbidden before her eyes, as foggy as the silhouette of the approaching Huntress herself, obscured by the smoke and gouts of flame dancing across the expanse separating the two warriors. She knew that her two companions had already headed forth, but paid it no mind for the moment, electing to grant a last audience to a Commander she claimed no authority over anymore.

All that was left between them was respect and a few scarred souvenirs.

And a Domain name, if she were feeling generous.

"Commander," she spoke once the Yuuzhan Vong had come close enough. "Something you wanted?"

She had never been particularly polite, and – shockingly – nothing about holding conversation on a burning world made her want to rethink that approach.

 

[Khallesh]

[member="Vrag"]

Three more steps and she came to an abrupt halt. Her hands twitched as her dogma fought her confusion over whether to salute or not. In the end she simply removed her helm and placed it at her side.

Another mountain could be heard crumbling in the distance. That the ground barely trembled beneath them indicated it was far away, and yet the flare of light cast long fingers of shadows through the detritus in the air.

"Do you return to your Dark Lord?" she called across the ground that separated them. Curt, to the point as ever. Impending doom also removing any courtesies she might have thrown in under different circumstances.

 

[Vrag]

The figure finally emerged from the plumes of soot and smoke, standing still in front of the dead Sith with a distinct cut of awkward to her posture. For [member="Khallesh"], who was used to rules and discipline and clear ways of doing things, this had to be… odd.

Ygdris smiled, the expression lost forever like so many times before, filitered through the rows of teeth grinning perennially at anyone who cared to watch, courtesy of Dhaladii. She gazed somewhere off into the distance as the Huntress spoke, the familiar rhythm of Yuuzhan Vong carrying upwind. The syllables, harsh as they were, would be missed. The language was one that left little room for deceit, much less for lies. It was direct. Efficient.

[No,] she was short, like the Commander. Suppose that's why they got along as they did. Which is to say, marginally better than any other infidel. [I'm leaving.]

For a moment, she meant to say more, but the rumble of the final collapse in the distance reinstilled the sense of urgency. They were on a clock here, and time was running out.

The woman broke into a jog after [member="Reverance"] and [member="Lying Hound"], bidding the Huntress to run a ways by her side.

[We may never meet again, Khallesh Val.]

 

[Khallesh]

[member="Vrag"]

Khallesh paused for a moment. Partially because she was considering Vrag's words, but also because she was mentally mapping out their surroundings. A born scout, once she had a region mapped out in her mind she could assuredly navigate a route. However, given the circumstances it seemed provident not to tempt the Yun'o. On foot she wouldn't make it from this ridge back to the others.

"That is good," he said, falling in beside her. Her mind returned to that mountain range when a clerical error had led to her marching her forces up and down a valley before she encountered Vrag.

"Good that you do not return to the false avatar," she clarified. "I do not know where we go," she admitted, a look of consternation on her features. "That never mattered to a villip," she added after a moment's thought. She pulled one of a pair out from her armour.

"In case there is need," she added. Khallesh Val was not one to make an offer lightly, or even at all.

 

[Vrag]

Despite the treacherous terrain and ever more inhospitable climate, the pair had little trouble traversing the expanse of open ground that separated them from the two figures in the distance. There used to be a marsh of some sort here, she recalled. Once rife with all manner of life, the plain was now reduced to little more than a wasteland. The only growth remaining were the skeletons of creatures that hadn't made it out in time, strewn about the field as they patiently waited for the fires to put them out of their misery.

Those same fires were slowly trailing behind them, lazy and languid in their destruction. There was no escape, after all. They could take all the time in the world, until the world was no more.

Her gaze flitted from the ground ahead to the proffered creature, and the woman found herself nearly stumbling from the shock. [member="Khallesh"]'s expression was unreadable as she held out the villip in her clawed, scarred hand.

It was… unexpected. Would the Commander make the same offer had she known that it was because of her and [member="Reverance"] that Selvaris was dying? That it was them who had doomed her people to a mass exodus? Perhaps. If there was one thing she'd learned over the years, it was that Yuuzhan Vong revered sacrifice.

[In case there is need,] she echoed as she took the villip, because there really was nothing else to say.

Her pace slowed down as they neared the [member="Lying Hound"], and finally, the firrerreo came to a stop in front of the Huntress. With a sharp click of her tongue, she had the Dhaladii peel back for a few moments, and with a grin, she gripped the Commander's shoulder, her cool blue eyes boring into those black pools one last time.

[It has been an honor, Khallesh Val,] she said, and for once, Ygdris meant it. Perhaps the honor wasn't hers to have, but rather borrowed from the other warrior, yet she had shared in it nonetheless.

 

[Khallesh]

[member="Vrag"]

"An honour," Khallesh responded, with a firm nod. She clapped Vrag back on the shoulder, and took a half step back, breaking off contact. She turned her gaze to their surroundings, visibly wincing as another low rubber reverberated across the landscape.

"Then in the interests of not dying, it seems it is time to depart," she replied. There was just a hint of that very human expression: a smile. A rare attempt at humour from the Huntress. Jun Phaath had recently started to insist she stop trying to mimic that aspect of their culture for when she start infiltrating their ranks.

It had been a slow change to regard them in a different light. Vrag had been a significant part of that, as much as any time she had spent trying to understand their culture from the inside. They were greedy and hedonistic creatures, but at the same time adaptable, intelligent and occasionally brave.

Khallesh briefly wondered what new beast Vrag had tamed and brought to Selvaris, but now was most certainly not the time for questions.

"Woe to your enemies," she said with a crisp salute, echoing the traditional war cry as way of a final farewell. The huntress turned on her heel to head back through the murk to her mount.

 

[Vrag]

A chuckle escaped her throat, drier than usual for the scorching air shimmering all around them. If it weren't for the filters and the temp reg system, she'd have been toast hours ago.

Her gaze flitted away from the curious twinkle in the Commander's eye, following the white-hot line of the horizon where it met with the ground. It was like the edge of an open wound, tearing and weeping as flesh was torn asunder. Instead of black, Selvaris bled fire, pouring from its slashed guts in a thick stream of molten rock. The very world was being turned inside out with a determined, methodical efficiency.

Just like you would've done it, the woman thought wryly as she observed the awe-inspiring spectacle for a few more breaths. It was once in a lifetime, certainly, but if she didn't hurry, it'd also be the last thing she'd ever do.

With an audible snap, the Vonduun crab was back in place, blue replaced by orange unlike that of the flames licking across the plains towards them.

"And to yours!" she called after the Huntress, watching her retreating form until it was swallowed by the smoke, never to return.

Goodbye.

Far off in the distance, a body lay atop a forgotten, desacrated hill. Twisted limbs, broken neck, glassy eyes, doomed to stare at nothing until nothing, too, was consumed by flame. As fire slowly crept up the slope, a bright spark came to dance in those empty blue pools, and for a few moments, the corpse almost looked like it would smirk for one last time.

Vrag, the Hand of the Dark Lord, was dead.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_PvLyJu9-6E​

​

​

[member="Reverance"] | [member="Lying Hound"] | [member="Khallesh"]​

 

[Reverance]

A rumble, a shake, the calamity caught his eye and attention. Turning quietly, piercing gaze moved from the ground into the sky. In the distance, the shockwaves shot out from the landscape and moved forward, blasting over trees and knocking Slivlith from the sky. A cannonball smacking into the planks of a doomed ship, the tectonic plates cracked and knelt to the pull of the large beasts, pulling them under. The shelves reared up into the sky, ship showing it's full length before the final capsizing crack, before acclimating to the pressure and shift, coming back down hard against the voided spot in the crust they once inhabited. That rumble grew with a gut wrenching growl, a gaping maw finally given voice and cherishing every moment of it.

With a booming appeal, the planet bled from that orifice and screeched with a low thundering resound, sending debris and molten ash miles into the atmosphere. With that sound, lightning followed, embracing the lifted stones with a flash and kiss, snapping hard across the darkening landscape in extending branches and violet silhouettes. There was fire here but soon, it would be hard to tell the black from the hand that guided. The planet was, as they were now, freeing itself from the toils of others troubles. Taken to the path of the Yuuzhan Vong, it would not be chained and it would not be used. It would take this error and rectify it, sealing itself deep away into a black glass abyss that one day, the One Sith might look back upon and wonder what mistakes they had truly made. What grievous error could their great Dark Lord commit, to warrant such retribution?

Sniffing, eye lifted high into the sky, the ominous darkness clawing it's away across the horizon. Showers of ash would follow, the world cooling with the light of the sun forever forsaken from the place, and encased in impenetrable rock and cemented coal. Pyroclastic flows would soon overwhelm the world, eruptions of the thousands of atomic bombs suffocating the surface as it spread outward, pulverizing everything beneath it. Like iron, hammered and hardened in the flash of an eye, Selvaris would become something entirely different. Cold and uninviting. Just as it always should have been, the last essences of life finally pulled from it for this final fleeting expression.

Dropping his gaze, Reverance glanced back towards the burial mound in which the hungry beast presented itself. If he stared hard enough, thought hard enough, he could see Gabriel looking back. Pleading for him to finally end this, to finally put a stop to all the pain. All the hate. But there was no end to it, only it's transformation. And that would come soon enough, honey brown eyes blinking their last moments away to the sound of sizzling flesh, creeping molten magma. With a hard look towards it, the flash of orange gave the impression of the smallest sunset. A reflection in the dark, a single spot turned into a line, slowly moving over the burial ground. Until jagged rock was smoothed out, left with rippling and burping stone, moving with stalwart purpose. He could envision the smoke now, the steam rising from the corpse, as he turned and began a slow walk into the smoke and fog rushing past him.

Everything would change, shadows cast over an empire would fade with the dying flames, this inclement darkness. They had left their mark, on the Legion and the One Sith. Death was their first act. And it would be their last.

Dénouement.​

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[member="Vrag"] | [member="Lying Hound"] | [member="Khallesh"]​

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UJap8x-xj-4​

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