The Prophet's Hand is endless (ask)

[Ras'kala'han]

The first guard's warsword collided with the blade of Darth Abyss, letting off a shower of sparks. The second felt a brief stab of fear as their blade flickered into nothingness, and then the icy cold of the knife sliding with smooth cruelty into its innards. The noise it let out was like a scream, muffled by the mask, of pain and rage as it fought impotently against the mortal wound it had been dealt. The second stepped back against the clashing blades and moved into an acrobatic attack, a strike from above following a flying leap, then a strike from below after hitting the ground rolling.

Meanwhile, Antherion fought the mental battle as hard as he could -- but his concentration was breaking. It was too much. Just... too much. The incessant serenity clouded his purpose, broke his clarity, filling his mind like a thick, dense fog.

"At least you'll die at peace."

It's just an illusion. Don't give it any mind. Focus, focus!

"Brother... This is no illusion. This is something you never were able to accept. This is defeat."

No defeat is permanent. No, defeat is when I cease fighting. I will endure and all my enemies will be ground to dust.

"In this galaxy, all things are finite. You cannot get what you desire. Let go."

"You betrayed me because you lack vision!" As the guard clashed with Abyss, Antherion stepped backwards, stumbling and falling, waving his arm to dispel the haunting phantom. "And died forgotten -- I will not share your fate!" Then, he turned his own mental attack on himself. His own pain. Take it. Feed it to himself. Amplify. Repeat. A positive feedback loop of destructive power. Target the crown. The mask, the face, whatever he could and do the maximum amount of damage.

Rising from the haze he gestured towards the sphere of darkness. Sensing out for his enemy, he eschewed complex spells and incantations. This was a simple shroud of utter annihilation, a wave of relentless, crushing Force attempting to atomize the man's skull. He was screaming, involuntarily, his muscles spasming as he continued to use his own energies to torture himself to eke out whatever power and focus he could.

"Thaina!" The name was hoarse on his lips, but the shadow he had glimpsed was already gone.

| [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] | [member="Serenity Loveheart"] | [member="Acaleus Thorn"] | [member="Vrak Nashar"] |

 

[Darth Abyss]

With satisfaction Abyss watched as the first warrior felt the cold embrace of death, as flesh surrendered to sharp, uncaring metal. He could still feel the weakness that [member="Antherion"] had summoned upon him, felt as his limps felt numb and as pain pumped through his veins. But like his opponent would just a moment later he used that pain to his advantage, calling silently for the blessing of the dark side to empower his every action. Then the strike from above fell down on him, as his attacker jumped above him, and just in time Abyss brought his saber up to block the strike. The effect didn't made him weak but it made him clumsy and that was almost as deadly in a fight than weakness.

That was the reason why he didn't even tried to block the second strike coming from below, instead circling backwards. With his focus divided between to fights at one he couldn't make use of all his power for either of them, so he had to rely on wits above anything else. The saber missed most of its target but the attack of the cripple's goon still left a burned scar on his left leg. Yet there was no grunt or any other sign of pain seen from the sith lord, who took this disgrace as reason to get rid of the second warriors as well. The knife in his left pushed forward, a simple stab at the beings stomach. At the same time his saber made a quick swipe from his right to left side, aimed at the knees.

The he felt the pressure applied to his head, a painful telekinetic grip that threatened to press his skull into fine dust. While fighting the goons he hadn't watched the real enemy carefully enough. He needed another trick to break the man's focus and he needed it fast. With the way his head felt is fairly hard to get a clear thought but then out of nowhere the solution popped into his head.

It had been so obvious that his mind had simply skipped over the idea, but in its simplicity was also its brilliance. Still with his back to the cripple, Abyss pushed forward with both hands, using his limited telekinetic abilities onto a single point. Pressure applied to the backside of the other sith's knees, where little power was normally enough to make even a enemy fall that could stand straight without the force. It was a bit of gamble, put it was also his best shot to survive the the burst of anger and rage that fueled his opponent.

[member="Serenity Loveheart"] @Vark Nashar [member="Acaleus Thorn"] [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"]

 

[Ras'kala'han]

The second Aeviternal pressed forwards, continuing its offensive momentum. Recognizing the deadliness of the cortosis dagger its companion had fallen to, it deflected it not with its saber but with an upraised hand, letting out a pained, audible hiss. The ground sizzled as it planted its own lightsaber in the ground, then slid it up the Darth's blade, bearing down with deadly force on both fronts.

On the other front, Antherion grimaced, fully intent on obliterating his foe -- and all too unconcerned about protecting himself. The blast of Force did more than knock him over, it sent him sprawling prone, his concentration splintering into nothingness as his head struck the ground -- he let out a small, tired noise not unlike a sigh.

"Why do you continue to fight? All this power, all this destruction... does it ever bring you any pleasure?"

"Does anything else?"

"I tried your way... but your way is father's way. And father's way saw him killed by his children, and they cheered when he died."

"I am nothing like father!"

"What makes you so different?"

"I... I don't serve any sort of outdated Empire or its ideals! I don't care about the Sith, or anything. I do this for myself! My way!"

"Do you think he didn't tell himself that also? He played his empty games and got nothing of it. Think... what brings you joy? If you survive, choose that. Nothing is worth this pain."

The Sith grimaced, opening his eyes. His vision was slightly fuzzed, and his thoughts were sloshing around in his head like water, stumbling and rolling over. He couldn't rest, he couldn't stop, he couldn't lapse into unconsciousness unless he wanted a hasty execution. Eyes darting around, his was vaguely cognizant of a hollow shudder he had heard in the grenade explosions. Catching sight of a manhole cover, he used a strained exhalation of the Force to uncover it and began crawling towards it as fast as he could muster, his legs trailing weightily behind him.

| [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] | [member="Serenity Loveheart"] | [member="Acaleus Thorn"] | [member="Vrak Nashar"] |

 

[Darth Abyss]

With both the physical and the mental grip on him summoned by [member="Antherion"] gone, Abyss finally had the time and the focus the bring an end to the cripples second gone, erasing the last physical barrier the other sith had to defend himself against the might of the Mindeater. Honestly he had enough of wasting his energy on a replace soldier, he wanted to finally deal with the real reason he had returned to Malachor. A sly grin jumped on his face, only to disappear a second later.

"It was your destiny to be unimportant."

Abyss channeled his hate into his left hand, red sparks dancing over his arm while he looked at the remaining warrior with utter disinterest. His time had simply come, there was no need to make it poetic or dramatic. The death alone would send the message he had for the cripple, the message that this had been not only his greatest but his last mistake.

Red lightning was channeled through his arm and jumped over the metal of the knife which currently still resided inside the flesh of his opponent. Being electrocuted like this was a very painful and unpleasant experience as Abyss could say from feeling it first hand. So exactly the way the meaningless servant of a semi important threat should die.

In case that Abyss would indeed manage to kill the man, he would turn around and begin a slow, menacing walk towards his real opponent while allowing his frustration to manifest as a fit of manic laughs, while he felt as the cripple pulled himself through Malachors dirt. That was poetic and he didn't even had to do it himself.

[member="Serenity Loveheart"] [member="Vrak Nashar"] [member="Acaleus Thorn"] @ @Thengil Ri'Shjirr

 

[Vrak Nashar]

Malachor
The Tyrant

The ethos of realspace seemed to shift and shake, the lines that had been so stuck in their translucent blue suddenly twisted back to the odd twinkling stars set within black. There was a rip, and then The Tyrant fell from hyperspace almost directly above Malachor IV.

The ship was torn from it's travel by the gravity well of the planet itself, a violent shake rocking the Star Destroyer as it tumbled into orbit and almost immediately began to launch its complement of Star Fighters. A dozen or so messages flew from the ships command deck, most of them sent to the defense forces surrounding the world but a single message broadcast on an open frequency that could be received by anyone listening on a communicator.

"To those rebels upon the surface of Malachor." Vrak's voice crackled over the comm, becoming clearer as he continued to speak. "You stand upon a precipice. Within a doorway that you cannot turn back from."

His voice was filled with disdain. "Those of you who wish to survive leave this world now."

It was a generous offer, one that would not linger for long.

"Those that remain will burn." The transmission cut off, and Vrak turned away from the holo-table. Without another word he wandered off the Bridge of The Tyrant and headed for one of the hangar bays located on the ship.

[member="Antherion"] | | [member="Serenity Loveheart"] | [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] | [member="Acaleus Thorn"]

 

[Ras'kala'han]

Beuka Myu. That was the name of the guardsman that Darth Abyss was fighting. Once a pilot for the Resurgent Empire, her identification as a 'potential' for the high-stress training that was used to create the honor guards that Antherion so delighted in meant that her personality, name, everything that made her her was erased in favor of a servant that could never compromise any secret or betray any trust, a servant that could only be described as an extension of the creator's will. Her sacrifice was in vain, the only comfort for the thing that had been made from her destroyed self that its sense of pain was dampened. No screams of rage. Stony silence as it thrashed and writhed, then again as it fell still.

Then, mockery. Always the mockery -- it was not enough for the cruel being to slay him, it needed to exalt in his death. To know him broken. Or at the very least, to feel better about killing him.

"Destiny? Destiny is what I created, over and over, by choosing the impossible. And sometimes, the impossible is merely to get back up after all lesser men would have abandoned hope." And now, it comes to an end.

Not yet.

"You will never steal my secrets." Antherion rasped hoarsely, falling still as he reached for an object he had sequestered away during his crawl in the inner flap of his tunic, hiding it from the Mindeater's sight as well he could while straightening himself out slightly.. "And as long as that is true, the Empire will destroy you!"

Grimacing, he flung the thing towards the open manhole cover.

| [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Serenity Loveheart"] | [member="Vrak Nashar"] |

 

[TB-705]

Unmarked Shuttle

"Lord Ri'Shajirr, there is a Resurgent Empire vessel above the planet."

Thengil's eyes narrowed and he paused for a moment, then snorted and resumed donning his gauntlets.

"Hail ship and tell them who you serve. Bring us down toward the planet's surface."


* * *

Moments later, Thengil disembarked the shuttle and strode in the direction of two presences brimming with cimmerian energy. His slow, purposeful stride gradually carried him toward the sound of combat. He saw little reason to barrel ahead like unblooded cub. Let them wear each other out.

The tall leonine figure caught sight of the pair battling outside of a warehouse. The soft exosuit gently whirred with every step Thengil made. He stretched out his paws, ensconced in the gauntlets, and curled them inward. He came to a stop within speaking distance, but made no sound. He simply watched with a yellow, predatory gaze.

[member="Antherion"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Natalie LaForte]

"Alvek, you're taking far too long and you are really testing my patience at this point. This thing had better be worth the wait of me and my accomplice standing in the middle of the desert for just shy of half an hour now. Mind explaining what we are planning on doing with it?"

"Well; Ma'am if I must be honest, we are fully aware that these weapons are functional, we are really just getting a firing site to actually, well, fire them." *Laughing comes through the communicator* "Moreover, do you mind telling me why you haven't investigated the star destroyer yet?"

"Well, genius, imagine that I can't just cut through durasteel, we're not exactly well equipped here to investigate a potentially reactive ship that could wipe the planet of any meaningful life."

"Oh well. Look behind you." The link closed.

And with that, the convoy and its security detail had arrived; forming sort of a circle around Serenity and her companion, but more importantly, the experimental weapons; 3 8 legged arachnid like heavy artillery guns, arm to the teeth to bombard even the most shielded cities.

"Like them?" A man with a hat sat, exiting out of the juggernaut. "It's the, patent pending, heavy artillery verified ordnance carrier; H.A.V.O.C for short. I've got to say, whe-.." that's all she really paid attention to, beginning to walk to the creature-like vehicle. "Are you even listening?" "No." With a giggle following. It appeared to other individuals were to be piloting them, although they were in specialized environment suits. The man began to speak in to a megaphone;

"First test fire will be commencing in 2 minutes time. Anybody not involved in the piloting of project H.A.V.O.C please report to Juggernaut C3 for briefing." 2 minutes time? Who would wait for that. In a matter of seconds, she had climbed it and was in the pilot's cockpit. The controls were surprisingly easy and intuitive for such a complex machine, but perhaps it was because she had been in the likes of them before. A voice began to speak in the small chamber.

"Serenity, it's been 30 seconds, could you just wait."

Without a word, the rocket pods expanded from the carcass and launched directly at the starship, they sort of hung in the air for a millisecond before moving when fired, leaving behind a barely noticeable smoke trail. When they impacted, pieces of metal screeched off from it and flew across the desolate landscape.

"Sigh. Go ahead, have your fun."

At this point, the other two pilots had found their way into the vehicles and the three were lined up, facing The Tainted city, the spires of light very recognizable in the distance. This time, from 6 of the cannons, 2 on each one, pointing directly at it.

"Mark sector 3, firing coordinates (18,26)"

"Fire on my command. H-1, ready."

"H-2, ready."

"Serenity. Ready."

"Let's see if the cripple can protect his stolen goods."Grinning and placing her hands on the firing mechanism.

Meanwhile, in the distance, several land speeders were beginning to encroach on the defensive position the group had taken, nobody taking notice as of now.

[member="Darth Abyss"] I [member="Vrak Nashar"] I [member="Antherion"] I [member="Acaleus Thorn"] I [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"]

For reference; H.A.V.O.C Alpha

 

[Darth Abyss]

Abyss continued his walk towards [member="Antherion"], every movement as theatrical and menacing as the one before, the red saber loosely hanging in his right. The words of the cripple were answered with another twisted laugh. By now he had abandoned all hope of keeping his cities, but that lack of an alternative made him stronger and more dedicated than he would've been as a guardian of what he had build. The only thing that mattered now was to send a message, so the The Resurgent empire would never forget that it was a bad idea to interfere with his business. Would they win in the end? Almost certainly, but it was up to him to decide how much they would pay and how little they would gain from their victory.

"I care little for your worthless secrets cripple. Should I bring you a brown robe so you can die in peace?"

The sith lord stood in front of his fallen opponent. There was no war in the shadows anymore, no gambles and attempts at deals. He would simply slay his way through the empire, making sure that the fall of Malachor would cost them, and he would start with the cripple. Releasing his build up rage he began to bring his cybernetic foot down on the cripple. First he aimed at his knees, then he lifted his foot a second time, stomping it down with the intend to hit the man's throat. For the last time he pulled his leg back for a wide swing, meant to land on the man's head. His work down Abyss turned around.

"So who is next? Hopefully someone less disappointing."

[member="Serenity Loveheart"][member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"][member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Acaleus Thorn]

"Venus? Prepare to engage on the Resurgent Empire vessel with the Cross of Mejai and the swarm of ships. Acaleus approached in between the fight. Where the leonine newby came, to stop his advance. He was followd by fifty of his own militia, leaving the other two hundred assisting Abyss. The guards took spots behind walls and debris, but Acaleus stood in the middle, with his right arm extended, pointing at them, palm open "Hi there. You must be from the Resurgent. If you could retreat that would be great!" a smile was printed on Acaleus face.

Acaleus didnt had anything against the guy in front of him, but as always, the smell of burned flesh got him addicted. He turned the wrist lightsaber on his left arm, ready to deflect incoming shots if the force shield didnt resist anything or the enemy close the space between them. In worst case scenario, his line would fall, but at least with enough time for Abyss to assist him or other allies to come to aid him. In the best case scenario, he wouldnt need any of those things and would maul to the ground any enemy forces "Oh and my name is Acaleus"

[member='Thengil Ri'Shajirr'] [member='Serenity Loveheart'] [member='Darth Abyss'] [member='Antherion']

 

[Ras'kala'han]

The object detonated in the depths of the manhole, the grenade Abyss had thrown. It was no secret, nothing. Just another, final ploy to lash out, to deceive, to hurt. It failed. He pressed himself away, strained slightly, then went slack. There was nothing he could do. Nothing, nothing at all. Was this it? Was he going to die? No. Not a t first. First, he was going to suffer.

The first blow elicited a crunch, and he saw white. Perception bled into pure, expressed pain. He opened his mouth as if to scream, but mostly what came out was a small sort of sigh. It hurt, but it hurt in the abstract. He was floating.

The second blow ruined his breathing. A trickle of blood bubbled up from the recesses of his throat and pushed its way past his lips, while he broke into strangled, shallow gasps. He saw the third one coming and new it was going to spill his brains or crack his skull. If not kill him, render him comatose. So he rolled, the slightest attempt at escape, all the horror melding into a moment of clear focus.

The mindeater seemed to be willing to oblige his roll as the foot made contact, not on the head, but close enough, where neck and back met. He tumbled over, two full rotations sideways, and lay still, air coming in and out in irregular patterns, eyes open but unfocused, crimson pooling at the edge of his half-open mouth.

"He didn't even know the real me. He thought me a lapdog."

"You acted the lapdog perfectly. Your actions were those of a lapdog. Were you anything else?"

"I suffered too much for all this to have no meaning, yet my passing will be meaningless."

"This is your own fault."

"I... I know."

"Then you know what you have to do next?"

"Yes."

"It's not too late to give up. To die."

"...Not yet."

There was no darkness, there was no light, there was no sound or fury, there was no touch of hard stone or taste of blood, there was no pain or peace or passion. There was not. The storm rose and grew to blistering heights of power. Without the unifying mind to sustain them, the guardsmen turned to bloody madness, and the Panopticon unleashed the full force of its power. Wind began to strip at buildings, and rain flooded the streets.

| [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Serenity Loveheart"] | [member="Vrak Nashar"] | [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] |

 

[TB-705]

A gale kicked up and the bellies of the heavens tore upon, releasing their deluge of rain.

Thengil strode toward [member="Darth Abyss"], gait easy as a krayt dragon in its native dunes. His lips peeled apart in a grimace of violence, fangs sharp and tongue sharper still. They say true kings never pointed to their crowns, but with all glinting gold bands braided into the Cathar's mane the vestige of royalty could not be denied. A cloak of arrogance wreathed him and his paws bore death. Pity those who thought kings came to save, for they only knew how to conquer.

The feline warrior paid little heed to [member="Antherion"], even as the human hacked and wheezed and blood bubbled from his broken lips.

A group of soldiers barged into the scene, heedless of the context as lowing banthas. One stepped out from the rest and sought to address Ri'Shajirr. The Cathar made no answer, for what words did a hunter trade with a mouse? He moved past and made his way toward Abyss.

Wind clawed and droplets stung. His mane tossed about behind him, a soaked and ragged banner.

Murder shone in his glowing, yellow eyes. He did not fear empty shadows.

"Soeht's cur, returned for another hiding. The cripple's mistake was mercy. I possess no such vice."

He made a twisting gesture with a paw and in an outburst of will sought to snap Abyss' left ankle with his mind.

* * *

A number of Togorians egressed from the shadows from the direction Thengil had come. They wielded energy bows and other, more visceral weapons. Few carried blasters. They aimed these vaguely in the direction of [member="Acaleus Thorn"] and his group.

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Antherion"] | | [member="Serenity Loveheart"] | [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] | [member="Acaleus Thorn"]

Vrak stood patiently within the back of a small shuttle, his face expressionless, his robes shifting slightly as the vessel began to enter the atmosphere.

In the stars above The Tyrant was beginning it's deployment. Fighter craft were swarming from the hangar bays, half a dozen landing crafts soon followed after them, and the vessels guns turned towards the planets below. A signal had already been sent to the Sphere of War, a simple message that told of the need for reinforcements. Within a few hours time this world would either be pacified or left a burning husk. A part of his regretted such actions.

Vrak had always been pragmatic in nature.

He abhorred needless destruction and saw death as wasteful unless there was a purpose behind it. That wasn't to say he was merciful, far from it, but unlike many of his kin he would not torture or maim simply for the purpose of doing so. He saw so many other species as lesser, yet everyone had a use, everyone had a purpose. It was simply putting them to that purpose that mattered. Sometimes a little encouragement was needed, and now it seemed that Malachor needed that encouragement.

His fingers tightened around the bar he held onto as the ship shook once more.

"Sir, sensors indicate there is...something firing at the city."

The Sith Lord turned for a moment, half facing the trooper for a moment as he regarded the man. His fingers shifted, and then he spoke. "Move to intercept."

This world still needed to be god for something, and the instant Vrak gave the order the fighters and dropships began to head towards the assailants.

 

[Darth Abyss]

"Glory, contact the Knights of Firewall. Make sure they spread the word through the Network: By decree of the Prophet, Malachor is now officially at war with the Resurgent Empire."

The Black Assassin made his last step out of the shadows and onto the battlefield, giving out his orders to his A.I. Now there was only fire and blood left to come, as the people of the cities would rally, a few in either loyalty or fear towards their Prophet, most out of dedication to themselves, their homes and cities. And a few simply because they loved nothing more than spill blood. They lacked the formal training and gear of a real army, but they knew their cities in and out, secret shortcuts, hideouts, the tunnels below Firewall and the Spheres. The empire wouldn't meet a united front but instead would have to stand against a ruthless guerilla force.

"Catman, so we meet again. Your fur will be useful when I clean your blood of my boots."

Now [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] would get the same dark, twisted laughs and mockery thrown at him as @Antherion. If the feline sith truly thought he stood a chance than he was a fool. Abyss was out for imperial blood, and there was nothing that would stop him until his blade would cut through clean red skin, or at least that was what he expected from the leader of the Resurgent empire.

When he felt the pressure around his left leg, the Mindeater's mind reacted quickly. The telekinetic grip had slightly cracked the bone, and further pressure would break it at some point, but as of now it was not much more than a slight injury that he could ignore for a while. Pain was nothing to him other than fuel for his power. Yet instead of standing in open defiance towards the attack of his opponent, Abyss fell into a stumble, his expression and movement played like he was actually suffering, his acting close to perfection after pulling out this trick more times than he could count.

The stumble forwards came to a sudden stop, as the sith pushed his left hand forwards, seemingly in an attempt to catch his balance, only to release another of his treacherous throwing knifes during the movement, aimed at his opponent's left shoulder. There was no sign in the tension of his muscles, no burst of the dark side that allowed to see a hint before the weapon was thrown.

[member="Vrak Nashar"] [member="Acaleus Thorn"] [member="Serenity Loveheart"]

 

[TB-705]

A silvered flash blurred from the Shadow's sleeve, parting the air with a saber-wasp's hum.

Snick.

Heavy brows knit together, fur rippling like a field of wheat beneath the wind. Thengil glanced down. A small knife quivered, tip buried in the jung-ju fibers and armorweave covering his shoulder. Sharp, spiking runes etched in the metals of the blade glowed in the Force with energies. The Cathar snorted.

Eyes of a paralytic yellow tracked back up to fix on Abyss. His nostrils flared at familiar scent. Fear. Thengil knew men such as this on the Mictlan - scavengers - save that there they fought over misplaced glances and bits of plastic, not broken crowns and stolen planets. The scavenger would cling to the corpse, desperate to defend what little he had, though in the end he would be run off to join with the rest of his kind.

Those too weak to kill their own prey.

Thengil strode toward his quarry, implacable, lips curled in a half-snarl of derision.

Hobbled by injured ankle, the foe would find mobility limited. Take their legs and they'd nowhere to run.

Reaching up, Thengil grasped the hilt of the knife in his gauntleted right paw and yanked the cursed metal from his exosuit. The Cathar's other paw stretched toward [member="Darth Abyss"], seeking to grab the front of his robes and lift him bodily off the ground.

[member="Antherion"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

The poison of his knife showed no effect, probably because the most of the weapon was stuck in his opponents armor instead of his flesh. Yet it was only a minor setback to his victory. He was set on slaughtering his way through the resurgent empire until he would reach the head. Then he would cut that head of, and no cat would stop him, not today.

When [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] made his way towards him, he began to limp away, a movement looking far slower and injured than he actually was. He still had various aces up his sleeves, his boot, his back and anywhere else that he could hide a weapon, but no trick was as lethal and deceiving than projecting weakness. Then, as the paw of the of the other sith reached his robe, his eyes widened, showing a mix of no existing anger and fear where in truth only cold dedication could be found.

"FoolFoolFool."

The second his body was lifted of the ground, the mask of faked emotions fell apart, as his left hand reached for the hand on his robe. A cruel, twisted grin marked his face, as red lightning began to dance over his arm, meant to electrocute and temporary paralyze his opponent for the mistake of getting so close. At the same time he watched out for his knife. Thanks to the armor of the cat most of the position was probably already gone, but it was still sharp metal that could be rammed into his flesh and leave a nasty wound.

[member="Vrak Nashar"] [member="Antherion"] [member="Acaleus Thorn"] [member="Serenity Loveheart"]

 

[Natalie LaForte]

"Fire." and the artillery shells screeched through the air, one missing, 2 hitting the wrong target but the remaining solidly thudding into the buildings and causing concrete to crumble on the ground below. Much to the group's surprise, it actually.. didn't do that much damage. The rocket pods fired as well, even more inaccurate but still hitting some facilities.

"Huh." The first pilot began to speak. "Interceptors moving in on our position, several dropships inbound as well."

"Don't shoot at them."

"Are you crazy?"

"I said don't shoot at them, keep hitting the city. Incase you forgot, there's a failsafe on these things."

"H-2 do you copy?" As he said this, the vehicle to Serenity's left exploded in a rage of anger, a single body was seen in the air, sat in a seat which had some sort of parachute attached to it. Several bodies, the Sith sent out by [member="Antherion"] had attempted to subdue the man, little to their knowledge that the vehicle was designed to self-destruct when needed. Steel scattered in the desert, bodies flung, regaining their consciousness.

"Looks like the self-destruct mechanism works. Although I've got some bad news for you.." The interceptors were beginning to fire, the transport ships starting to unload their troops.

"Argh. We'll finish this later, get back to the command vehicle and return to the research facility."

Without a confirmation, the two ejected from the artillery and angled their airtime to hit the sand, and rushed back to the vehicle along with the third pilot.The Anti-Aircraft tanks began to open fire on the ships coming into their position. A final warning sound emitted from both of the H.A.V.O.Cs before they too busted into an array of flames.

"How did the field test go?"

None of the three responded, and taking this as a hint of failure, he spoke to the driver. "Return to HQ, if they wish to follow us then we'll at least have the advantage there."

[member="Darth Abyss"] I [member="Vrak Nashar"] I [member="Antherion"] I [member="Acaleus Thorn"] I [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"]




[member="Darth Abyss"] I [member="Vrak Nashar"] I [member="Antherion"] I [member="Acaleus Thorn"] I [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"]

 

[TB-705]

Hand met gauntlet. Crimson threads forked from Abyss' fingers, sizzling and crackling like an overloaded electrical plant, and coursed into the gauntlet covering Thengil's paw. The alchemical alloy soaked up the cimmerian energy, bottling up all the lightning this shadow could offer, a capacitor of the dark side.

The air filled with the stench of ozone.

Thengil's brows lowered.

If Abyss' bare skin made contact with the gauntlet, he would find the devaronian blood poison imbued alloy to be most... unforgiving. At worst, he would be incapacitated from the sheer agony. At least, the pain would disrupt his concentration, opening him up for the counter-strike.

Most people thought a single knife wound would be lethal. Most people would be wrong. A decade in prison with some of the worst war criminals in the Republic taught Thengil much about the various ways to break a body. A shiv, even a proper dagger, would rarely puncture deep enough to pierce the heart - if the species did not have more than one. The rule with a small knife, such as the one Thengil held now, was simple: strike the foe as many times as possible as quickly as possible.

Still holding the humanoid in the air, the Cathar took the blade in his other paw and sought to drive it into Abyss' body. Repeatedly.

Individually, each thrust would not be lethal. Collectively? They might bleed him dry.

[member="Darth Abyss"] | @Antherion

 

[Darth Abyss]

The concentration Abyss had build up fell apart the second he touched the gauntlet, not because of the pain itself but out of surprise and confusion. He didn't expected the armor of his enemy to simply absorb his burst of red lightning. The pain wasn't nearly the worst part of this, as pain was something he could suppress to a point where he felt almost nothing at all. No what truly worried him was the fact that his enemy was neither injured or stunned by the attack, leaving him free to send his own knife down into his stomach two times before he could even react.

Yet Abyss was nowhere near to giving up. There was a reason why he had so many tricks up his sleeve, to be ready to react to even the most unexpected situation. The hilt of a lightsaber jumped out of the sleeve of his right arm, the purple blade coming to live without any delay. He had no time to do anything complex with the weapon, the only priority was to keep his opponent from stabbing him further.

Almost clumsily the purple blade was swung at the head of the other sith, neither with great strength nor precession, as this was only part of the attack thrown at [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"]. While the saber moved towards his adversary, Abyss pressed a button hidden on the hilt. The second it was pushed down the sonic emitter build into the weapon powered up, releasing a extremely loud and high pitched noise meant to stun his enemy. The attack had a drawback, and would confuse and temporarily paralyze him as well, but numerous fights had shown that most races with better hearing than humans suffered even more under the effect.

 

[TB-705]

Knife parted cloth and flesh with horrid ease, driving home into the belly of the hapless shadow. Once. Twice. Thengil drew his paw back for a third, but Abyss lashed out in desperation, swinging his lightsaber clumsily toward the Cathar's face. The last gasps of a beaten foe?

Thengil lofted Abyss up still higher into the air, defeating the true aim of the swipe with the sudden jolt. Even so, he felt the cruel heat of the blade as it hummed overhead, singing a line through mane and clipping an ear. The smell of burning fur mixed with the ozone, a foul stench.

Sudden, jarring noise blared from the hilt of Abyss' saber. Reflexively, the Cathar dropped the Sith and stumbled back apace, ears ringing horribly. A growing pain pounded in his temples so hard it felt as though the entire priesthood of Am-Shak the Thunderer sat between his ears and beat, beat their drums to call the god into existence smack in the middle of Thengil's skull.

An answering rumble built in the Cathar's chest, a storm cloud on the flood plains that raced up his throat and ripped from his maw in a Force empowered roar. Every being within a mile could feel the power shiver in their stomach, like the crashing of a storm. Those directly in front of Ri'Shajirr might find blood streaming from their ears as the roar tore apart eardrums as easily as claws through flesh.

[member="Darth Abyss"]