Rebellion The Ninn Kaggath | Rebellion of Ninn | WotS vs TSE

[Kascalion Giedfield]

EQUIPMENT: Armor - X | Main-Hand Lightsaber - X | Off-Hand Lightsaber - X | Right Arm - X
OBJECTIVE 1: THE NINN KAGGATH
Primary RP Opponent: Telis Taharin
Secondary RP Opponent: Darth Solipsis
Overarching Opponents: TSE | Respective Allies
Overarching Allies: WotS | Respective Allies
NPC Allies: Sith Battle Chapter
Theme: Hatchery 09

​

The Elder Sith moved with a speed and ferocity that belied his frail form as he engaged in the slaughter upon those poor Sith Imperials who had broken through the lines of the Hollow Dispoilers. His form with Soresu, as if mocking the Devil's previous usage of it, was nearly as flawless as his own, deflecting the screaming bolts with ease back to their origin. Marks of cinderous orange plumed with light smoke from the chests of the reversed-upon victims, hearts burnt to crisps by the plasmic-beam power of their own blasters. Watching the old man fight was an artform in-of-itself, but it was, of course, merely the prelude to his own ending. All this blade work, all this speed, all these masterful combative skills only to fall to a glorious end at the hands of the Devil, only when he decided - at his own pace - to unleash the full might of his swordsmanship. The game of respect-laced derision would continue and then would end when the Devil tired of it.

At least, that is what he thought when he moved to re-engage with that leap of faith towards the Elder Sith, only to be pushed back with a suddenness of the Force that sent him careening into the ceiling of the hangar. The impact and pain were inconsequential in the crater formation and subsequent fall to the harsh steel floor below. If anything, the Devil enjoyed the searing injuries. The stabbing metal and concrete that crunched against his armor, which itself had become dented from the sheer power of the Elder Sith's attack. The steel sheets of the hangar floor crunched under the mighty weight of the Devil's hyperdense body, and the frontal plating of the suit began to slough off, revealing the reddened skin of the Devil's torso and the gold-red skull that was his face.

Blood of a curious bioluminescent blue trickled down from the spots where the metal of his suit had dented too far inward, piercing his skin. Once the back plating of his armor fell off to a clatter on the grating floor, the full extent of the Elder Sith's frantic, but ultimately powerful defensive attack - in a mere Force Push no less - was revealed by the shards of concrete and metal from the crater that pierced the man's armor. From these wounds, more blood trickled down into small puddles behind his feet. Now only his boots and pants remained. Less protection. A reminder to not let his own assurance of power cloud his judgment to the point of becoming a mere mortal once more.

The Devil offered a slight nod of his head in response after regaining his balance. Around the two combatants was a catastrophe of an environment. The stench of blaster bolts and burnt ozone, the sounds of screams and yells of Imperial Sith and arriving divisions of the Hollow Dispoilers from outside the hangar, the sights of the utter death of familial lines and loved ones. All coalescing into a single symphonic disaster that one could only assume enhanced the already potent power in the Dark Side those Sith present possessed. The Devil allowed a half-moment to pass, sucking in the energies of this combat, before charging forth toward his foe - throwing his lightsaber from his hand in a horizontal rotation. He would do the same with his off-hand, retrieving it from his belt with a quick flick of his wrist and lobbing it vertically like a throwing ax. His intent was to delay the Elder Sith's defense enough to gain enough ground and attempt a slam with the Force, to knock the Elder Sith down to his back so that he could not defend against the resulting onslaught as best as he could standing. Of course, with the absolute might that the old man had within the Dark Side of the Force, this was a plan that could not be a sure thing, even in the Devil's Narrative.

 

[Romund Sro]

Tags: Ingrid L'lerim | Rynn Vizsla
Equipment: Lightweight/thin Titanium Armor | Two (red) Imperial Knight Lightsabers

​

Things seemed grim for the armored Sith. Romund's flying vambrace attack didn't seem to do to well. Probably just looking like a lame attempt at creating a mild diversion. By this point the whole day's wear and tare on him has started to overflow. His movements were fluid yes, but there was no force behind it. He could move fast, he could hit strong, but never both at the same time currently.

As he went for the legs the akimbo duelist backed away with an acrobatic evasion. Having tried to put a lot of force into it he over extended the leg sweep. Making him loose balance. Breathing heavily under his restrictive helm. Each breath grimly echoing out of the shiny armor. A clear sign he was wasn't going to be able to stay in the fight much longer if any.

As the Mandalorian launched a barrage of tiny little projectiles. The whispers of precognition spoke to Romund, he pained himself but got up and stood against the barrage. As he tried once more to deflect a projectile from the Mandalorian he was once more unpleasantly surprised as it combusted with his blade knocking his defense off. Fortunately the armor held up okay-ish to the rest. The cacophonous raging of the micro explosions disorienting himself in the armor as it rattled him.

However, and unfortunately for Romund one would slip past his armor. Where his vambrace was missing one of the micro missiles got lucky and slipped into his right gauntlet. As Romund braced himself against the others one of the little explosions going off sounded very different and he for the moment felt his right hand go very numb.

After coming back to his senses he didn't notice the duelist or the mando anymore. A seeming last wave of numbing adrenaline rushing through him as tunnel vision over took him. He cared no longer for the fight around him. Holding up his right arm some before him he looked with pained eyes under his helm at the limp image of his gauntlet. The titanium kept the form still. But he knew that under it was a mangled mess of what used to be his right hand. Slowly and shaken he tried to grab the gauntlet to see what damage had been done. He still had yet to really feel the condition of it. However, as he messed just slightly with the gauntlet blood began to pour from opening of where his wrist started. Just then pain shot through his arm. Raging, burning soreness from his hand possibly being turned to red jelly inside.

Retracting his left hand in pained horror he flinched at the initial wave before it grew. Clenching his left hand into a fist he roared out in anguish, howling with The Force. The two others around him, even if not touched by the force, would only feel an uneasy bit of despair coming from him as Romund turned his back on the other duelist and the mando. Sharp breaths could be heard piercing through the hollows visor of his helmet. He was hurting, and somewhat in an uncertain panic over what to do next.

 

[Zinn Zinn Bink'sa]

Location: Armory, Outside
Objective: 2
Allies: Apkari
Enemies: UX-0626


Zinn Zinn was caught in a manifestation of pure blood fueled rage, as now he had a hole showing through one of his hardened, yet nevertheless flappy ears. Looking at the enemies before him. He started to push through, hacking and slashing his way through the enemy. Either decapitating or taking off limbs. Hell even bisecting the lot of them altogether. As he started to push his way through the hallway and out onto the opening he cried as he started to foam at the mouth. "You want ouch time! Zinn Zinn gonna give yousa the ouch time!!"

He kept hacking his way on through, so much so that he didn't care about what was going on behind him. He didnt even pay attention to the soldier that was firing at him, nor to the Red Sons behind him. It was pure adrenaline-fueled rage that guided his every action. Every movement. His eyes blazing sulfer. As he kept up his attack. Looking to the one that was now aiming a gun at him, he pointed his blade saying. "Yousa wants some... Mesa wants some... Come get some!!! AHHHHH!!" He cried out in a war cry towards her, it was as if he was seeing double vision, and all he was armed with was a simple vibro blade and the Force.

Just as he was about ready to lunge at her, having gained some room and a little bit away from the armory. That was when she made her shot. Shooting at him, he only had a split second to react. And while he managed to avoid the more powerful shots aimed towards his chest. He couldn't avoid a shot to his left arm. Feeling and even hear the bone break. He cried out... "KARK MESA!!!!! MESA BOMBAD MESA TAKE WHAT YOUSA CAN THROW AT HIMS!!!" He said as he stuck his long tongue out at her mockingly, now foaming as if a wild animal.

He still kept moving relentless, aiming to cleave an arm right off of her in the next attack. He moved swiftly to strike attempting such a maneuver now with a busted up arm, and adrenaline pumping through his system the Gungan didn't have much to lose.

 

[Sargon Vynea]

The ride via transport seemed overly long, like it was taking literal days to travel the distance between the front and the prefab. It wasn't possible though, the planet was only so big, right?

Still as the shuttle touched down he could swear it had just been forever as the emergency aid crew walked down the ramp at the edge of the front. It was a near miss on a few potshots gone awry, or at least he'd hoped they weren't shooting at them purposely, but they'd made it. The field of battle was already bloody and the teams began to move out quickly as they found injured soldiers from both sides left behind by the shifting frontline.

The smell of carbon scoring was still strongly in the air though, and even the small arms fire was easily heard just a bit farther away. Pulling out his heavy shield the Iridonian ran cover for the lead team as they moved further into the bodies where the sight of robes and lightsaber damage became more common.

Squatting down next to a gasping Sith of unknown affiliation the medic quickly took a needle out and thrust it into an unburnt part of flesh as the man gasped reaching out to fight off his would be rescuers. Placing a hand on his shoulder Sargon pushed him down as he broke through the defenses of his mind already heavily distracted by pain and breathed peace into the Sith. Perhaps the Sith would have been strong enough to resist it had he been focused or his defenses still up, but in his state he gave in and collapsed into unconsciousness.

Nodding to the team they lifted the broken Sith up and behind Sargon's shield carried him to the ship. "Keep him sleeping, but make sure he lives. We're here to save lives, all lives. We are one in the living Force, and the loss of one is a loss to us all."

Kal Cotan Sar'andor Krayzen Dratos Vhondryl Gallaer Kascalion Giedfield

 

[UX-0626]

Location: Crashed Warlords Warship, Ninn
Objective: In the Storm of Durasteel
Allies: TSE
Enemies: WotS (Apkari Zinn Zinn Bink'sa )

The Gungan Sith was a preternatural flurry of motion as he carved a bloody path through her comrades, running through them as if they were grass cut by a scythe. Yet, even in the face of such relentless, overwhelming power, they fought with an unbreakable will. In turn, UX-0626 did the same, for she had known nothing else over the course of her short existence. Thus, the voice of her Eternal Lord willed her forward and she heeded his words. All the while, He drew out and amplified her emotions, rage, hatred, and disgust, focusing them into a tempered edge which she could wield against the heretics.

626 answered the foaming Gungan’s battle cry with her own, unleashing an savagely ear-splitting howl as the Sith closed the six meters of distance separating them. Her vibroblade powered on, the energized edge crackling to life before being raised to meet the Sith’s blade in a parry, intercepting his attempt at cleaving off her arm. Sparks flew as the two blades clashed, but 626 did not let it linger, knowing that with a single motion, the Gungan could separate her head from her shoulders as he had already done to so many of her comrades. And so, just as their blades made contact, 626 answered the Sith’s attack with her own, firing off a pair of full power shots from her sonic stunner at point blank range, each aimed for the Gungan’s large ears in an effort to stun. The vibroblade in her left hand followed immediately, swung from her left to right side in a horizontal motion, aimed to decapitate the Gungan outright...

Spoiler: Loadout

• "Taral" Sith Trooper Armor - Designation: UX-0626
  • Undersuit
    • UL-14 “Virtus” Class Underlay
  • Left Wrist
    • ACS-208 Wrist Tensor
    • ACS-207 Cryo-Ban Gun
    • Universal Gas Launcher
      • Pink Vapor
  • Right Wrist
    • Wide-Beam Sonic Stunner
    • Shatter Beam
    • Universal Gas Launcher
      • Nagnol Gas
  • Energy Shield
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
  • Boots
    • X7-B "Checkmate" Holdout Disruptor
• “Extinguisher” Precision Pulse Cannon
• FAE/M-01 “Scherezade” Energized Vibroblade
• Impact Grenade (2)
• Sonic Imploder (2)

 

[Kal]

Objective III: BYOO, the Blue Crest; some battlefield or another, combatants nearby.
Wearing: Lean Ersansyr Male, Blue-Green Hair, Protective Attire (Blue Crest).
Assets: [4] Silent Knights, blue plus-size hardhats and Blue Crest vests.
Tags: Sargon Vynea | Krayzen Dratos | [OPEN]

It seemed as if the shuttle ride had taken strangely long, given their initial camp's relative proximity to the fighting, but perhaps the pilot had been forced to take an indirect route as a result of the ongoing hostilities. Kal could hardly complain, he doubted he would be able to fly much of anything without crashing it, let alone in an active war zone. With an oddly cheerful smile on his face, he moved to be among the first out the door.​

If anyone was going to take a blaster bolt to the torso it ought to be his constructs, but it turned out this Sargon fellow had it covered.​

Clearly, he had experience navigating these situations, if the relative ease by which he located and "calmed down" a wounded Sith was anything to go by. Voice unusually solemn, he spoke as if to himself. "Such wastefulness. How little must they appreciate life to expend it so freely."​

Shaking his head, he ventured forth himself, relying more upon his mystical senses than his eyes, attempting to isolate those who might yet live from the dead and dying. Not all could be saved, he knew that all too well - some were already dead in all but name, effort spent on them wasted.​

 

[Darth Solipsis]

​

The very force emitted by the Elder spirited away the imposing form of the Devil, interrupting his savage downward assault. The forceful impact into the hangar ceiling and the cratered durasteel flooring spoke volumes of the magnitude of such an attack, yet the Devil kept coming for more. He took a moment, exhaling deeply as his opponent rose and the surroundings buckled further under his hyper-dense form.

His opponent's armor slid off his body like melted butter, it revealed forth the haunting features of the eldritch being along with the horrific visage of the Devil's very face that was sure to bring sheer insanity to the lesser willed with but a glance. Small areas of bioluminescent liquid, a strange blood like substance trickled and scattered from where his mighty armor had pierced too far. Droplets rolled off his body, yet he stood tall and reveled in the moment.

The Elder snarled, his yellow eyes glowing in the distance as he locked eyes with the blue orbs of the Devil once more. He paced, building upon his anger, drawing upon his hatred locked away. The deaths that transpired around them was enough to continually feed both of them, consuming the essence of the Dark Side to strengthen their bodies. He knew he had to keep the battle to one of the Force, if they dragged out a physical contest the Devil would destroy him utterly when his body eventually gave out. No, he had to keep this a contest of wills.

The Devil offered a slight nod, he reciprocated and rolled his tattered robe from his shoulders onto the ground, revealing his own scarred and ultimately frail form. The Devil basked in the moment, drawing upon the dark energies around them before charging the Elder dead on. Solipsis chuckled under his breath, amused. His opponent quickly flung his lightsaber with precision and deadly efficiency. The Elder hissed, immediately reaching out through the Force in attempt to suspend the object in stasis. His preternatural senses immediately caught wind of the second assault, a honed mind mastered over decades. His offhand snapped to, just in time to suspend the second from striking him.

This victory was short-lived.

The Devil slammed into the Elder with immense power enhanced by that of the Force, catching the fellow Sith Master totally offguard. His back crashed into the ground as his body ragdolled along the durasteel flooring. Blood rolled off his body as it slammed into a nearby cargo container, denting the metal. The frail elderly Sith rolled off to the floor, a steady stream of blood spilling from his mouth. His body was failing him, he could feel everything, the pain, the weakness. He closed his eyes..

..and fed upon the darkness.

His body slowly began to heal, not in a way a Jedi would mind you. No, the Dark-Side perverted such techniques. Where he had once been a skilled healer in the Force, now he had been reduced to a manipulator of flesh, a artist of perversion in dark mockery of the Ashla. His flesh tethered together, his bones crackled and popped, his eyes opened wide. He rose.


Kascalion Giedfield

 

[Jayda Aryss]

Location: Battlefield
Equipment: Lightsaber, robes
Tags: \/ Eligor Rahvok \/ Darth Maleva \/ Darth Luminoth \/

Push, push, push.

Run, run, run.

Don’t stop, keep running. The moment she stopped, she would be cut down, or dragged back to what could be described as relative safety behind their lines by the Sangnir no doubt trudging behind her. She would not be brought back, not now. No, today would be about success and great victories. About proof that she could hang with the big guns, even just that she could stay in this sort of life. Eligor would not stop her today, nor would anything that tried to stand in her way.

Her eyes, typically a crystal blue, instead flashed a crimson gold as the rage flew through every inch in her body. Rage at being thrown to the side, rage at the galaxy for forever seeming unfair, and rage that she had, once again, been thought of so little that she needed to be babysat by the prodigal acolyte. It built within her, stormed throughout her mind, and as continued to surge forward, it seemingly powered every single step she took. Maybe this was what it was like to actually taste power for once in her miserable life.

Fitting that it would come just moments before she pushed herself up and off the ground, flying through the air toward where the beast had engaged with someone undoubtedly much more powerful.

Moments before she same down, the blonde acolyte ignited her saber, hitting the ground with a quick roll to try and get her feet up under her again. It appeared as though the sith wasn’t even really fighting the beast, instead trying to do..something with it that she had no real grasp over. It did not matter what was happening in all reality. No, all it looked like was the sith was giving Jayda the perfect opportunity to slice and dice her first true kill.

At least, that’s what her untrained, desperate mind told her. Her foot pushed off the gravel once more, and she was sent flying toward @Dath Maleva, saber raised and ready to strike. She prayed to the gods that it would soon find it’s target.

 

[Darth Luminoth]

WARLORDS OF THE SITH
OBJECTIVE I - THE NINN KAGGATH

「Born For One Thing」

Darth Maleva Eligor Rahvok Jayda Aryss

"If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared. "

​

Cauterization of severed limbs reeked over the dusty, tibanna saturated atmosphere. Flesh lie sundered beneath the golden hue of the butcher's blade. Stormtrooper, Mandalorian, and Sith alike all cut down without prejudice in the chaos. The hand of on oncoming blade met radiant plasma, dropping unceremoniously away from the trajectory of a deft slice. Luminoth twirled, sending the blade clean through the neck of his assailant and sending the severed visage into a corkscrew.

A blonde-headed figure dancing across the battlefield caught his eye. The sight of them beckoned a premonition of intent to tickling the recesses of his psyche. Uncovering that Maleva was the icon of their malice, Luminoth shifted to cut his way back toward her, as was his wont. Several new cadavers were born, cut away like brush in the jungle as he rushed back toward the side he'd absconded.

Once sufficent distance was closed, an immense momentary strain assaulted his body as he called upon the dark side. Luminoth's very form warped, collapsed on itself a central point. With a flash, he disappeared with a warping sound, leaving behind a stygian smog in his place. Suddenly, a black grain appeared at Maleva's side, violently unfurling into the shape of the Dark Sun himself.

With a stroke, his blade caught the oncoming strike just short of Maleva. The masked features looked down to the assailant with an unmoving indifference. "Oh, you tragic thing!" cried a deep, garish voice bordering the flamboyant with a peppering of condescent. Sabers still locked in a clash, Luminoth began to slowly raised the two blades in an arc. "Sending a child to do a Lord's work?" Although from the same man, the voice was now female, businesslike, and nasally.

"Growing desperate, are they?"

 

[Stilicho Drumarch]

UX-0626 | Zinn Zinn Bink'sa ​

The beeping from the back of the armoury grew ever louder. Neither side could afford to ignore the impending doom any more. Apkari's Sergeant grabbed him by the shoulders and shook desperately.

"Captain this place is about to blow! We need to get the men out of here." the Sergeant turned to the Gungan. "Binks! Carve us a way out damn it, or we all get fried!"

The sergeant dragged the dazed captain to the back of the room, where the Red Sons' wounded had accepted their fate underneath the wall rack of ticking time bombs. The sergeant began fiddling with bombs in a desperate race to stop them. But they couldn't be stopped, perhaps only mitigated. Apkari followed along the best he could as he regained his senses.

It was too late. When the first explosion went off, it knocked them both to the ground, and set off a chain reaction. The explosives, grenades, bombs, and volatile ammunition, all went off sporadically, with the rage of a dozen angry Sith Lords. Apkari and the wounded Red Sons were vaporized almost instantly. The armoury was scorched immediately, and all four walls were blown apart.

With any luck, members of both sides would have been able to get clear of the blast before it tore open the side of the ship...

 

[Zinn Zinn Bink'sa]

Objective: 2
Location: Crashed Ship
Enemies: UX-0626
Allies: Apkari


"YOUSA AIN"T BAD... YOUSA NUTTHINGS..." The Gungan taunted her, as the two blades met with a sharp spark between the metals hitting each other. On the outside, they were lucky enough to be fighting, as he shortly felt as well as heard the explosions that rocked the twisted armory. The soldiers, the Red Sons that he met briefly had passed into the Force just as quickly as he encountered them. His eyes blazed yellow, as felt the intense heat give them a push slowly onto the edges that lead onto the outside. Lost within a fueled rage that had taken ahold of him. A rage that matched hers, next to insanity the likes of which she could barely comprehend.

When she tried to stun his ears, his ears flapped. His vision disoriented as he started to try and gain control of himself. Now he moved as if he was drunk, or dizzy in a sense. His movement no longer carried a sturdy and rock like stance, now he moved as if there was a flow of sorts. The next attack that came from her’s was an attempt at decapitation. Fueled by anger and adrenaline plus the sonic attack disoriented him. He had a split second to dodge but taking a deep cut through the shoulder. As he tried to gain the upper hand. "YOUSA TRIED TO AFFECT MESA'S HEADTHOUGHTS.... MESA DON"T LIKE WHEN FLAPPY FLAP HEAR HOLES GET KARKED SCHUTTA!!!" The Gungan angrily cried, and started to forgo the sword altogether, now moving in a sense akin to a drunken kung fu master, moved to tackle the Sith soldier. Pinning her to the ground, and with his scrawny yet strong arms tried to savagely bash her arms against her head. He was still foaming at the mouth like some rabid animal as he did so.

 

[Jair Ordo]

S H O W S T O P P E R
NINN
RIFLE | VAMBRACES | LIGHTSABER | JETPACK
TO ENGAGE: Khamul Kryze
ALLIES: Rynn Vizsla

"The Sith are merely a stepping stone; a tool for me to gather resources to help our people. You did not have to come to Ninn. None of our people had to die today. And yet, here you are, insisting on stifling my ability to save us. I want nothing but to bring our people into a new age of strength and security."

The words rang around in his mind. Stepping stone? He thought to himself. What did it mean? Did he truly believe in the Sith ideals? His motions were paused as he was deep in thought. The warrior was steady for the cause of the Sith. He was here, fighting his own creed. Proof that he would stand tall for his version of the Sith believed in. But was it all a facade to aid the Mandalorian people?

As he fell back into his realm of thought, he found himself guarding the incoming attack from his opponent. The Sith warrior had pushed through the Force to send a wave of energy to blow him off balance. The impact hit him hard, blowing the air out of his chest. It made him stagger and drop to one knee. Trying to recapture his breath he stared dead at his attacker. The radiant aura of the Dark Side flowed off of him. The cold encroaching feeling came back into fruition. Hair would try to just ignore the feeling and get back up on his feet, but he couldn’t. He had to make it stop.

He had to make it stop.

Grip strong on his lightsaber, he regained his footing. He panting heavily; the Force push affected him greatly. He hadn’t felt the Force used against him in a long time. It would be the last time, however. Breaking out into a sprint, he pointed his vambrace toward the warrior and with a push of a button he launched a barrage of whistling birds towards his opponent. Seeing the launch successful, he ignited his lightsaber to deliver a horizontal slash across the torso area of the Sith warrior.

He had to make it stop.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

WE HATE
OUTER RIM | NINN | OBJ III
COMBAT BABY

​

"Loske."
"She's more than Shursia will ever be."

Vehement outrage curled their lips backwards, peeling from their fangs. Aaran’s tenacity took shape in something foreign –– their chemistry revolting from the intrusion. Oxygen seemed to drain from her body, gut shifting unnaturally and knotting up in her stomach. Shursia found imbalanced, anemic, lost in her rage and the machinations of the Force.

Tendrils skittered around her frame, randomly exposing bits of skin beneath in revolt to the intrusion from the Knight. Wet gasps surged from their throat, staggering to a knee in the physical confusion. It felt as though there was a tectonic rift exposed within, and like the wounds they encountered against their physical, the symbiote swiftly worked to knit the exposure back together.

Amidst the volatility of their body, Shursia found humour in the harmony. Like it was raiding through pockets desperately, trying their best to discover which resources they had at their disposal.

Aaran’s attack was intense and well-measured, though there was a flaw. The insane marvellousness of the symbiote was in its sentience and mental control influenced by the Lady of Secrets. Where the shadow of Loske might have vied for release, trapped in a husk of herself, HX7 suffocated those thoughts with something more tremendous. Ambition. Darkness. Hate.

“Was.”

A hand pushed into the dirt, ropey extensions pooling around them to lift them to stand. And continue to rise so they were almost levitating. The knot in their stomach hadn’t abated entirely, there was obvious nausea outlining their otherwise hate-filled words.

“You’ll see.”

The layers of Shursia’s voice took on a new tone, layering over the instructions of the Dark Lord. Words repeated from Taeli’s lips through Shursia’s, the tongue spiteful and harsh.

“The more you ask her to fight it, the more painful it is for her. The more damage inflicted. Let her death be in peace if you’re truly an old friend.”

It would be the last thought before she atomized to withdraw, to leave the Jedi Knight to perish in a pool of his own blood.

​

ALLIES | TSE |
ENEMIES | WOTS | Aaran Tafo | Closed

 

[Khamul Kryze]

Objective Two

Engaging: Jair Ordo

Khamul could feel the doubt within the Mandalorian as he sent the push outward. There was something stirring within him; a cloud of confusion seemed to be expanding within his mind. Despite the doubt, the Mandalorian was able to block the attack. He wasn't able to fully disperse the force of the attack, however, ending on one knee and clearly out of breath. Khamul tried once more to get through to his opponent while he waited.

"You seek the destruction of the Empire that has decimated our people. You want to see our people safe and secure as much as I do. Search your feelings... you know it is true. Yes, I wield this crimson blade. I fly the banners of the Sith, and I choose to keep company with their troopers. But make no mistake... I am still a Mandalorian. My clan has as much history in Death Watch as any. I am committed to the Crusade. I simply have my own way of seeing it done."

His opponent managed to regain his footing, charging at Khamul with a ferocious speed. Khamul saw the whistling birds incoming at the last second. He sent a sudden signal throughout the Dark Side that swirled around him, managing to create just enough of a barrier to stifle most of the impact. Khamul still found himself being knocked away from the rest of the impact, sliding backwards on one knee as the dust settled around him. He would have preferred a moment to recover, but his opponent was unrelenting. The lightsaber shot out from the smoke and dust, aiming for Khamul's torso. He had just enough time to block the strike with his own blade, twisting both blades in an upward parry as he rose to his feet. He grabbed Jair's arm as their blades were locked in place.

"The Mandalorian Union is soon to be finished. What do you think will become of our people when they crumble? Which tyrant will put them to the lash? Do you really want to see it happen? If you really do stand for Mandalore and her people, then let me find a way. Or, if you'd rather be blinded by your hatred for the Dark Side, then try to stop me. But be warned... any of our brethren who die by my hand will have their blood on yours as well."

He could feel the rage welling up within him once again. Would his people ever see the truth?