Dominion The Serpent's Den | (SO Dominion of Empty Hex)

[Anak Darkstar]

---

Equipement: Praetor Hilt Lightsaber, Single Blade

Objective III: The Fortress

TAG: OPEN

---

The behemoth of teeth chased Anak and Alice through he labyrnith of hallways and rooms, there together they cut down guards and troopers, staying only moments ahead of the Demon. They came to another elevator, which doors began to close, the Beast’s fangs tore into the metal as it descended.

Anak held Alice’s hand tight, both panting.

“We need a ship, get off world. We could go somewhere far from here.”

Alice smiled, her mint green eyes flickering as she place her fingers on his cheek.

“There is no escape.. my people’s destiny is written.”

The Son of Darkness took hee hand and kisses it.

“No! I have lived a lifetime of death! We can live if we run!”

Alice chuckled,

“You cannot outrun the Rancor forever. We are getting swept up.. you feel guilt for my sister and I find the dream of surviving a wonderful fiction.”

The Son of Shadows saw in the corner of his eye the Sharp Crowned Mistress who’s wyes burned.

“We hardly know each other Darkstar..besides harboring me would mean your expulsion from The Order.”

Anak knew that she was trying to save Him. For the first time in his life, someone was sacrificing themselves for him. That made him certain in his resolve, the doors opened and the Terentaktek dropped from above, Anak pulling Alice through, both now lying on the floor. He held her face to his,

“I know what you are trying to do..”

Alice frowned,

“You must see sense!”

The Black Rancor rose and took its mighty claws to pry the door open, it let out a great growl.

Anak took Alice in his arms and pressed his lips to hers, as he did he felt her fear, her doom, the Tsis’kaar to be torn from existence. It was then with his hands wrapped around hers that he removed the sweet embrace of mouths and air. Looking into her eyes, he began to push her back.

“Anak.. no! No!”

He threw her back and turned igniting his blade and rushed towards The Terentaktek, which bore its mouth, and used its tusks spades to scoop him up, The Acolyte swang his blade in sweepijg motiobn tesrijg a tusk pff and hitting its top row of teeth, tearinf them clean off with sparks, he then three his body into its hide, pushing with The Force, as they fell into the elevator shaft, Anak then dug his blade into panel, releasing the great cloud of green gas, he rising up to give Alice a last look,

“Goodbye..”

Alice ran and suddenly the damaged and bent metal doors slide closed. The grinding of metal gears was heard, and tye moan of the Beast. Alice beat the door with her fist.

“Anak! Anak!”

Inside The Son of Darkness slide on his back against the great doors, his lungs filling with toxin, the Terentaktek’s body heaving up and down as it struggled. It now gave a sad cry, like a pet in distress. Anak rubbed its chin as he felt the beat of the doors behind him, his mind now giving way to shadow.

The Son of Darkness could not let Alice be snuffed out, he felt a great burden to prevent her harm and to save a people who had been selected for extermination. In those moments of his breaths becoming strained, he could see the faces of all he had ever loved. The dark side was passion, ardent affection, he told himself this. How without love could any kingdom endure? Any throne be secure? Fear worked only in the short term, you had to inspire more, to make it worth dying for. A cause was not enough, it was the people: Master Adeline, Arkyrion, Dima, Gerwald, Srina, Astrid, Dacien, Ravenna, Many others, and now Alice; the relationships, that was what mattered, for he had known life without them in the void of the Unknown Regions. Now he at last understood.

The Shadow Mistress appeared, she eying him in her tormented crown,

“Young fool.. I told you I am jealous Mistress.. now look at you, about to burn out..”

Anak eyes her with his flaming eyes, reaching out with his hand, her neck rattled.

“I have faithfully served you.. and now see that is folly. You are to bend to my will! You wil lsave us!”

The Mistress gasped,

“I am not the Son of Darkness, i am no slave! My chains are broken! I am your Master! Bow to me! Submit to my will!”

The Dark Mistress gave a wryly smile as she got on a knee, her ruby eyes fixed on Anak.

“You begin to understand at last Anak Daskstar..”

With that the vision of the Dark Woman passed like a mirage and he awoke in the arms of Alice, the door to the shaft torn open. She kissed his forehead repeatedly. The Acolyte took her hand in his.

“You stupid.. stupid man!”

Anak rested there in her arms, taking some breaths, his throat rather tender from the toxins.

“It seemed.. it seemed a .. good idea at the time.”

Alice kissed his cheek.

“Do that again and I will kill you!”

The Acolyte laughed, it hurt.

 

[Varus Vraks]

Darth Trakaton
Lord of the Sith, Grand Master of the Sith Crusaders, Lord of War, Commander of the Vindicators

Objective: III. The Fortress
Tags: Open
​

FIVIUNE | TSIS'KAAR FORTRESS | ENTERING
Part I

The Furious Abyss left hyperspace minutes after the fleet of Michael Hightower and others had engaged the blockade of the Tsis'kaar, its sub-light engines firing up and bringing the warship forward. The dark impervium hull, battle scarred, was gliding through the silence of the void and towards the besieged world. Approaching the battleline, it completely ignored the ongoing conflict and moved towards the planet, its shields shivering under the attacks of the defenders but it just managed to slip past and enter the atmosphere, disappearing in the storm front of the world.

Seriously shaken by the harsh conditions, the ships hull protested and the gale whipped across its superstructure, from the loneliness and whispers of the vacuum to the tremor and forces of atmospheric nature. The crew and Lord Captain were trying to keep everything together, cursing the name of the one who ordered such a foolish, dauntless maneuver. But despite losing some shields, stabilisators and even an engine, the ship dived to the surface to spill its load.

They were not the first wave. They were not the first ones to enter the fortress or to attack its defences. A drawback of the sought after independence in this realm of pathetic domination, you would have to find your fights on your own. When the ship landed, a maelstrom of dust was accelerated into the air, a heavy cloud clogging noses and throats equally, reducing vision to a minimum around the massive landing craft. But the target was known, the direction was known and when the ramps fell - the onslaught began.

Darth Trakaton rode on his obsidian scaled Hssiss at the front of his charging Crusaders, warriors clad in the armors of eradicators, vindicators, conquerors, red blades shining in the think dust as he led his warriors into battle, assaulting the stronghold which was under heavy attack from the inside and outside. Here to deliver a deathblow, here to finish it.

The Lord of War rode into battle like an ancient knight, in one hand his lightsaber, the other steering the mount into the fight, accompanied by his trusted followers, Sith warriors, riding their war-beasts. It was a glorious sight, powerful and in a strange way, even noble. But the nobility would soon fade, the wedge of warriors crashing into the defenses which were already under attack. Lightning burst, lightsabers stroke, bones cracked. The Crusaders spilled first blood with their master at their front. Trakaton leading the battle, an inquisition trooper bisected by his blade, another crushed between the jaws of his Hssiss, he was fury and wrath. Lightning erupted from his fingers, engulfing a trio of Ophidias lackeys as they screamed and burnt.

The Force around the Sith Lord was an assault on the senses, it was overwhelming, his wrath and hate unleashed, his powers undoing the very life around him, by his own hands or those he commanded. Trakaton destroyed because he could, he killed because he wanted, he maimed because he embraced every moment of it.

He leapt off his mount, his lightsaber gliding through a trooper, crushing another ones neck under his landing sabatons. His path continued with focused fury, slaying and vanquishing any resistance, any life that had forfeit its purpose. Next to him was his beast, jumping and attacking as well, its claws and fangs tearing apart what came in its way, a duo of carnage.

While his blade crossed with one of the Sith outside, eviscerating him a mere heartbeat later, he pushed on and directed his followers to level this place, taking out everything there was, breaking every bone, every structure, scorching the very presence of this meagre defiance from living memory. The assault had turned into a slaughter, his warriors and the soldiers who came after, busy with annihilating everything and everyone, there was no mercy and no hesitation in their actions. The bunkers and trenches were filled with the dead and his followers, the battle raging on.

His gaze moved to the massive, already broken gates. "Destroy every one of them! Leave none alive, leave nothing whole!" His lightsaber pointed towards the gate and he entered the fortress.

Objective: III. The Fortress
Tags: Darth Kentarch , Darth Iraath , Anak Darkstar
​

FIVIUNE | TSIS'KAAR FORTRESS | STORMING
Part II

They were moving in. There was still fighting on the outside, but Trakaton's crusaders entered the fortress in strength. Sith Warriors alongside zealous Sith Shock Troopers, both fanatics in their own ways, devoted to war and only war. Lightsabers hummed when they felled an enemy, blaster cracked when they punctured life out of another enemy, the onslaught was a tide that swept over the remnants of what yet another pathetic, fallen Sith faction could muster. They were not weak, not of low skill - not at all, but it was the brute force, an application of utter violence and straight brutality which overwhelmed them. It was the Dark side incarnated in its crusaders.

Trakaton moved at the tip of the spear. Through the shattered doors and moving along a path already decorated with twisted corpses of the enemy. He was not the first one to stride through these halls, yet he continued. He was here for the defeat of the enemy, either to bring it about or to witness it, he did not care at this moment.

With every corridor his followers split up, firefights erupted, lightsabers clashed against each other. The enemy was far from being defeated, they were defiant of their unavoidable demise, resistant to the ultimate destruction. Honorable but in vain. The fortress was well constructed and with plenty of possible traps and ambush locations, demanding a heavy toll of the invaders, but they were mistaken if these invaders would back off because of casualties, because of losses. They wouldn't.

The Sith Lord was alone, having moved ahead of his forces as more and more of his warrior got caught in the dying twitches of the Tsis'kaar, assassins and inquisition troopers assaulting them with renewed vigor. It was impressive, he thought, if it were not for their petty shadow games, they would have made proper Sith. As if they didn't learn that a thousand years in darkness only brought about twenty-five meagre years of rule. It was a pathetic end for Bane's rule of two. A necessary step? Perhaps, but the Sith had faded already for more than two thousand years at that point.

His blade awoke, the senses tingling as he was attacked by a group of Ophidias assassins, masterfully concealed, they assaulted him from four directions. Trakaton was excited. With fluid motion he parried the first blade coming at him, awfully slow it was, redirecting it to block the second one which seemed to try to strike him from behind in slow motion. His crimson blade gutted the third assassin while his other hand send a small dagger flying into the throat of the fourth. The masked Sith continued his movement while the first attacker was finally managing to move his lightsaber back to attack. So slow. The Sith Lord grabbed his wrist, breaking it in the process, while lunging forward and impaling the second on his weapon, standing there just with a bare teethed assassin. Everything happened in less than a heartbeat from the attack starting, to him killing three assassins and holding tight to the last one.

"Where is your master, worm?" His voice was distorted by the skull-helmet he was wearing, the white front of it close to the survivor as he interrogated the man. His words hung in the air for a moment with the assassin managing to get nothing out but a grimace of hatred and was about to try to spit in the face of the invader. Snapping his neck, Trakaton continued. He would find what he was searching for, one way or another.

 

[Anak Darkstar]

---

Equipement: Praetor Hilt Lightsaber, Single Blade

Objective III: The Fortress

TAG: Darth Trakaton

---

The Fortress had turned into a meat grinder. Forces on both sides converging in combat. Anak and Alice made there way through the maze of chambers, halls, and traps. Then Anak felt it, a powerful presence of the dark, it was heavy like a wet cloth over the mouth to stifle air.

“Alice.. we have to move!”

She took his hand, the ground began to shake from the approach if something, the dark side permeating as if it was once more manifesting, only instead of a Dark Lady, a Hammer meant to beat the heated metal of Tsis’kaar into broken shards.

The sound of the footsteps seemsd to keep echoing, no mattee where they went. They entr a room full of columns, toeches hanging from them anuffed out by a wind.

The Paramour turned to Alice,

“What is this place?”

Alice looked at the many pillars.

“It is a training arena, the columns are used in our Tsis’Art.”

Anak felt the ground rumble, He was close.

“Alice.. you should..”

The Assassin took his hand.

“No. I am not seperating again. We will face whatever is coming together.”

The Acolyte looked at heelr with his blue fire eyes.

“It is a Sith Lord.. I am no match for his power.”

Alice squeezed his hand tightly.

“We will work together, maybe it will be enough.”

Darkstar tried to put on a brave face. He had not the heart to tell her that what they felt was no ordinary Master of the Shadows. This was a harbinger of doom, the dark power going before it like a wave.

Alice felt it too, her knowledge of the Force was limited, but she was not without talents. Stil Anak’s silence was unnerving, he clearly did not think this threat waa trivia or even surmountable. Was this The Emperor’s Wrath?

 

[Darth Iraath]

Equipment: Lightsaber, Damaged Robes
Objective III: The Fortress
TAGS: OPEN



What feel like hours pass, Iraath slowly slides on his stomach with one arm through the burning ruins of a hallway, Iraath's skin and scales begin to heat up causing discomfort, "I am not dead yet", he taps into the dark side, hoping it can give him the energy he needs to stay conscious, as he painfully tilts his head and looks back the other way, he notices a thick trail of fresh blood that began to boil from the fire, and he then notices his tail, which was also quite damaged, exposing the bone. He needs immediate medical attention. He finally reaches the door to the courtyard, he uses the last bits of strength he has to pry open the door, and was managed to slide out, he was saved, hopefully.

 

[Evor]

Objective: Wrath of Storms
Tags: Gerwald Lechner | Naedira Darcrath ​

The body of a Tsis’Kaar assassin, shrouded in crimson and black, collapsed to the ground under the weight of Evors heavy blows. He lay there, stunned and defenseless, peering up at the dingy looking man who now stood over him. A faint smile crossed the assassin's face before he once more heard the familiar swoosh of a lightsaber, fading into nothingness. Evor stood above him, his chest heaving from a mixture of rage and physical exertion. The soft crimson glow from his lightsaber lit up his face, dirt and gore smeared across it now. It was near senseless killing, as if those who raised arms against them already knew their fate and could do little more than simply accept it.

Something caused him to twitch and turn around, pivoting toward the perceived threat and planting his feet. Before he could truly process what was happening a shoulder caught him in the chest, sending him tumbling backwards into a heap. He did what he could to use the backwards momentum to his advantage, barely managing to land upon his hands and knees. A clenched fist pounded the ground in anger once, and then twice. His head snapped up, his fury now ready to be unleashed upon those before him. Not even bothering to stand up he raised his arm toward the enemy closest to him, likely the very one who had knocked him down. The familiar feeling of the force surged through him, extending toward the poor soul before him. Their eyes went wide as they were lifted off the ground for a brief moment in time before being thrown through the air, torn asunder by the large outcropping of rocks that broke their fall.

He lunged forward toward the second uniformed member of the Tsis’Kaar. He feinted left, planting his lead foot into the dirt and pushing off into the opposite direction. His lightsaber flashed once more as his momentum took him past the man who frantically grabbed at his torso before collapsing into a pile of flesh and bones. It was back to the killing fields after that. He darted around the battlefield, a ghost of pain and vengeance to most who were unlucky enough to stand before him.

A strong rumbling caused him to break his concentration. It was not the familiar shaking of a ship overhead, or of artillery crashing around him. He scanned the battlefield, looking past the mutilated corpses and those still clinging to life. It was then that he saw it, the Terentatek. And Naediras voice only confirmed it. He had never seen one in person, and he felt his adrenaline flow all that more strongly. He did what he could to move toward Gerwald Lechner and Naedira Darcrath , calling into his comlink as he navigated in their direction.

“All troops focus fire on the Terentatek. Take them down, take them down!”

 

[Darth Kentarch]

Objective 3: Fortress, The Serpent's Lair

The battle still raged on. Kentarch returned to the fortress, looking for pockets of resistance that may crop from the remaining SIth assassins. Darth Kentarch moved through the fortress, a momentary lapse in his concentration led him to misstep on a hidden pressure plate. The ground beneath him gave way, plunging him into darkness. The air was filled with a rush and his cloak flapped wildly as he descended into a cavernous stone pit.

The fall ended abruptly when Kentarch splashed into a shallow pool of water, surrounded by slick stone walls. Almost instantly, a chilling hiss echoed through the pit. Glowing vermillion patterns on black scales illuminated the darkness as a massive serpent, easily ten times Kentarch's size, slithered from a concealed lair.

Without hesitation, Kentarch ignited his blood-red lightsaber. The serpent lunged, jaws agape, revealing venom-dripping fangs. In response, Kentarch summoned the Dark Side, lifting large rocks with the Force and launching them towards the beast. The serpent retaliated by spewing a stream of highly acidic venom, which Kentarch narrowly avoided, the venom sizzling and burning wherever it touched.

Darting forward, Kentarch swung his lightsaber at the creature. However, the serpent's swift reflexes allowed it to twist away, though not without getting a searing gash along its side. Angered, the creature thrashed violently, its tail smashing against the walls of the pit, causing tremors and dislodging stalactites.

Realizing the confined space was to his disadvantage, Kentarch focused on a different tactic. Drawing the serpent's attention with feints, he allowed it to come closer, baiting it. And when the beast lunged again, he thrust forward into the lunge and plunged his lightsaber into one of its massive eyes. The serpent roared in pain, rearing back and inadvertently smashing its head against the stone ceiling. Taking advantage, Kentarch launched a barrage of Force lightning, targeting the wound on the serpent's side. The beast convulsed and, with one last agonized hiss, went still.

Gasping for breath and nursing a few burns from the venom splashes, Kentarch extinguished his lightsaber. He took a moment to recuperate, but his respite was short-lived when he noticed something peculiar. Tucked away in a secluded corner of the pit were clusters of large, glossy black eggs, each with a faint vermillion hue.

 

[Varus Vraks]

Darth Trakaton
Lord of the Sith, Grand Master of the Sith Crusaders, Lord of War, Commander of the Vindicators

Objective: III. The Fortress
Tags: Darth Iraath
​

FIVIUNE | TSIS'KAAR FORTRESS | SCOURING
Part III

The Crusader units moved into the fortress, Sith Warriors usually leading the way while troopers followed, splitting up and scouring every room, eliminating any soul they would find who could not be put into any non-relation to the Tsis'kaar. At gunpoint and behind ignited crimson blades, the scions of the Dark side cleaned house, purposeful, efficient, uncompromising. Yet one observing it would not deny military efficiency. Despite their aggressive approach and lack of life valuing actions, they had an effective command network and even put up a command post in the first hall, coordinating the units entering and directing any possible counter-attacks.

Part of this network was a freshly erected medical post. Not really a post or anything, just the next best location which could be defended and harbor some soldiers until the first aid was done. It was in one of the courtyards they had taken and around the central shrouded and hooded statue, wounded soldiers were moaning and dying. Struck down by lightsabers, caught in traps or torn apart by guarding beasts and these were the cases the forward leaders deemed qualified for care. There must be carnage in the halls of this dreadful citadel.

Medics with first aid bags moved from wounded to wounded, either treating or ending the pain before sending the former back towards a proper field hospital or the latter into one of the corners where there was already a considerable amount of dead armoured bodies.

One of the doors slid open and in it lay a wounded ... thing. The medic could not really make up more of his mind about what it was, definitely not human. It had scales, claws and a tail but it by the looks of it, it was sentient and suffering. It was badly bloodied actually, battered and shattered. Question was what to do with it.

"Chief, Sir." The medic exclaimed and looking for his superior. "What we supposed to do with that one?" He said in a heavily Sith-Imperial accented manner and nodded towards Darth Iraath . The medical officer appeared and looked, before approaching and running a scanner over the Sith while tilting his head and speaking. "Can ya hear me? Can ya speak?"

Objective: III. The Fortress
Tags: Anak Darkstar ​

FIVIUNE | TSIS'KAAR FORTRESS | SCOURING
Part IV

Darth Trakaton moved on when he started to sense something, something rather odd in this circumstances and it was coming from directly ahead. It was an emotion so wrongly placed in this environment that it almost made him laugh, it seemed like sympathy and endearment, even stronger. It was pathetic to just to think that someone here held these feelings, and it got worse by the fact that they were not concealing them. What weakness had laid its roots here, what flaw spread among the followers of this doomed cult.

The armoured figure broke through the next few doors like a battering ram. The fire boiled in him, the desire to extinguish this meagre excuse of an emotion, to eradicate this failure and give the Sith one less shameful claimant. The last door he did not just smashed open with his palm, he shattered it with a thought of telekinesis and coming into what seemed like a training room.

His skull-like mask stared at the two who held each others hands.

"Not enough that your kind refuses to fight like Sith, now you are shaming our Order with this disgusting romance." Trakaton's voice echoed from below the helmet, it was obvious that he was angry, wrathful, furious. He was a thundering storm, barely contained to its vessel and ready to break lose, desiring to crush what he sees as wrong and weak.

"Mark my words, I will destroy you and every living memory of your existence. It will be like you have never existed." And with that his blade came to life, the crimson hue tainting the columns next to him in its light. The blade humming but it would not lead the first strike. With him advancing, far too slowly and calmly, menacingly, the armoured Lords hand raised and unleashed a barrage of lightning at the couple. This moment either of them could have said they are the 'Emperor's' apprentice, it would not have stopped him. His judgement was cast and his wrath would be unbroken.

 

[Darth Iraath]

Equipment: Lightsaber, Robes
Objective III: The Fortress | Aftermath
Tags: Darth Trakaton


Dacien, white hot blood raging throughout his veins, looks at the medical officer with a glare, staring into his very corrupted soul, yet he did not want to kill this medic, as he could save his life, Iraath reveals out a pendant with the Sith insignia marked upon it, tossing it to the officer, while gurgling a sound of unbearable pain, "arrrrrrgh...", "I... am... Lord Iraath...", Iraath drifts into the depths of his mind.


Iraath drifts in a eternal sea of lava and and fire, he is lying down, bathing in hot stuff, consuming its white hot energy, a shadowy figure appears, it is his ancestor, the first Krazahn Sith Lord, the figure levitates above the lava sea, his robes torn and burnt


"you have finally arrived, i have been expecting you, their has been a great disturbance in the Force, it has seems as you are on the brink of death, is that so?" , the figure rasps, in a dark booming voice, "Yes, what you see is true, what is my bidding? Ancestor", Dacien says, rasping, like his lungs are filled with water. "you have done the highest deed of a Krazahn, young one, and for that, i provide you power, i bestow you, the title i once had "Bane of the Dread Lord", "Come to my great tomb in the Great Forest to become what your ancestors once hoped thousands of years ago"


"I will..."

Dacien becomes consciousness once more, processing what he had just experienced, the medic is still shouting at him, attempting to get a response out of him, Iraath clenches his fists, choking the medical officer and snapping his neck. His story does not end here, but starts here.

 

[Adrienne Keres]

Objective: Wrath of Storms
Companions: A pack of Devodogs and 2 Tuk'ata Hounds
Tag: Open (Eventually, Xander Blackmoore )

Adrienne paused her advance to revel in the moment.

There was death all around her -- and there was enough dark energy to drown the world. She watched as her fellow Order members advanced, taking on the hordes of Tarentatek. They, too, were hungry for blood. A cruel grin curled her lips as she thought to keep one as a pet; she always had a soft spot for terrifying creatures. Pity they would all be slaughtered.

"You'll feast tonight," she said to her hounds. "Soon."

The hem of her dark cloak touched the bloodied ground as she continued on. With the others focusing powerful attacks on their advancing foes, Adrienne would have no problem reaching the ritual site with her sithspawn companions in tow. Drawing her own saber, she ignited the scarlet blade and bathed the area in its sinister light. An assassin soon made his presence known, and Adrienne's Devodogs were quick to attack and protect their mistress. After giving her beasts a moment to shoot their poison barbs, Adrienne leapt gracefully and finished off their prey.

Her opponent joined the other dead littering the ground.

It really was too bad that she couldn't linger... couldn't raise these fallen as undead. Another time, perhaps.

"Come," she commanded her hounds -- and they were soon on her heels again, nearing a ritual site. Adrienne could feel the powerful pulse of the darkside here. The storm grew stronger with each step.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

OBJECTIVE:Wrath of Storms
WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: Wolfsbane | Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
TAG: Evor | Naedira Darcrath

Try. Normally the wolf would not find that answer acceptable, but Naedira was learning about things which Gerwald was not even sure of. Yes, she had a wolf within her, but that wolf had already proven to make her more capable of things which Gerwald could not even manage in his human state. His guidance was only as good as his own experience with learning to control his abilities, but hers, hers would be stronger.

His eyes glanced once more on her armor. It had once been a pattern feared in the galaxy. The hexagonal armor reminded Gerwald of where they had come from, and how far they had fallen. The Knights Obsidian had brought many of the worlds in the Outer Rim to heel and unified them under a banner of freedom and sovereignty. Now the wolf worked to subjugate worlds under a different banner.

A hand rested on Nadira’s shoulder.

“You will be fine.”

She just needed to trust herself. He knew Naedira placed her faith in the former Lord Commander, but a true sith held confidence in their own ability.

They moved swiftly. Gerwald and Evor cleared the landing zone of the few which had seen them coming. Gerwald’s feet were planted firmly as he surveyed the situation. Naedira’s assessment had been correct. Someone had already been through the area. Dead bodies littered the ground, and the smell of death and burning flesh filled the wolf’s nostrils. It overwhelmed his sense of smell, keeping from anticipating any further attack…

…until he fell the swell of the dark side around him.

He looked to Evor who had released the force push. His eyes shifted toward Naedira, knowing she heard the amplified speech as well. The dark side swirled all around them, the force creating a feast for creatures that longed to feast upon it.

The ground began to shake. Gerwald stepped back toward Naedira and moved them both closer toward Evor. This was not unexpected, but what had surprised Gerwald was how many. It was not one, it was more than a dozen. Evor ordered the soldiers which had landed with them to open fire. It would be fruitless. There were too many for the soldiers to take them all out on their own.

A low growl caught in the wolf’s throat. It grew. He was tempted to shift. Gerwald could move faster, and he would be stronger. The urge to hunt had kill as many of the beasts as he could was strong. If he felt it, how much did a new wolf feel it? Would Naedira feel the desire to fight or fly? It did not matter. If they were all going to live, they would have to fight. They would have to kill.

His hammer returned to his hand as the wolf wasted no time in preparing himself for the fight. He steeled his nerves. His hand gripped around the handle tightly.

“The dropship is gone, the only way is forward.”

He turned to Evor.

“Always keep them in front of you. The throat is soft, and watch out for the poison. If it bites you…”

His eyes turned to Naedira.

“Do not let it bite you.”

A protectiveness welled up inside the wolf. It was unlike anything he felt before. As his eyes locked with the woman at his side, Gerwald knew that he would do anything to ensure they all got out of it alive, but even more so that she would make it out alive. The growl which had settled in his throat only grew louder as he prepared to attack. The beasts were surrounding them, and Gerwald knew they would need to move swiftly.

His mind brushed against Naedira’s once more.

<< “Like we did at first?” >>

Would she remember? Would it be as it had been then, or would it stir the wolf within her. It was a risk, and it was certainly dangerous. Their odds of surviving would increase if they could fight together as one. Battle Meditation, battle melds, were not something which the wolf had learned to perfect. Naedira had been the one to initiate it then, and now that she was learning who she was yet, what she was, had the wolf led her into danger.

Had Evor followed him into danger?

Gerwald would kill, because he had to.

He would kill because he was stronger.

The wolf was not the insecure beast he had been even as Lord Commander. Srina had taught him to be something better. Naedira had made him more powerful. The intense feeling which was in his gut was something he could tap into. He could feed the others with his strength if he focused. His blue eyes turned. If the Terentateks were already there, he did not need to worry about using the force.

Gerwald drank deep of the dark side.

His need to ensure that Naedira… that his… that she lived, that Evor tasted glory, overtook him.

The wolf let out a deep scream.

The beasts closest to them flew back and fell into the others. Their numbers would be more manageable now. This was the moment to strike.

“Kill them all… Kill them now!”

 

[Xander Blackmoore]

OBJECTIVE: BYOO
WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS:
TAG: Adrienne Keres

Tarentateks emerged. Vizios had heard the boisterous speech and felt the ripple of the dark side as Darth Kentrach moved through the fortress on his own at a pace that was either arrogant or suicidal. Out in the open and announcing his position, the Sith displayed little finesse and leaned too much into flagrant aggression. This was the Tsis’Kaar and there would always be traps, things lurking in the shadows.

Kentarch should have known.

He had been one of them.

The sound of hounds nearby pulled Xander’s attention away from what he was observing in the courtyards and fortress below. A lone woman save her pack of animals. This was interesting. For now, he would again make the decision to observe. A crooked grin pulled at his lips when the beasts protected her from an assassin that dared to attack. She had a command over them, they killed without the need for her to raise as much as a finger or brow.

Subtle.

Trained.

Patient.

They obeyed her will. Xander had once trained assassins, members of the order the Eternalists now hunted. Had Ophidia simply bent the knee the senseless bloodshed occurring now would not have been needed. The Sith could have been stronger. This would force them to regroup and rebuild. Perhaps they would grow wiser and stronger. Assassins, Sith, Warriors, like the one Xander observed. She used what was around her to kill. Was she skilled with a blade, in combat as well?

He followed her with his eyes. Something of her style seemed familiar, as though it had his influence upon it. That was also curious. There were too many around, so he waited, stalked, until she passed the corner where he would not be visible. Vizios was not ready to reveal himself to the Sith yet, and while it would be a risk, he had to know more about this woman.

So as she rounded the corner, he dropped in front of her.

“There is something familiar about you,” he said, stepping into the light so his face was visible just beneath his hood. “Have we met before?”

 

[Anak Darkstar]

---

Equipement: Praetor Hilt Lightsaber, Single Blade

Objective III: The Fortress

TAG: Darth Trakaton

---

---

The Titan breached the door with a great crash. Alice held Anak’s hand tightly. The Lord of War mocked their bond and pronounced a sentence, an end to their existence. Alice seeing him strod in his great armor turned to Anak,

“We must fight as Tsis’kaar. Use the pillars to keep out of his reach.”

Anak looked at her, his face riddled with anxiety.

“How? I am a warrior, not an assassin.”

Alice took a pouch from beneath her robes and poured the contents into her gloved hand, it was a red looking spice.

“Breath this in.. hurry.”

Abak took it in hus hand and inhaled, the grains flying into his nostrils, and joining the liquid of his body. He felt his eyes tinged, and Alice kissee him, breathing into his mouth.

“Awaken the Kaar, let your body become as the wind.. let youe hand be a blade..”

Anak felt the room spin, and then he watched as Alice leapt up and hugged a pillar and pushing off to another with her boote.

“Cone on Darkstar! Rise!”

Anak ran towards a pillar and he went straight up, his movements felt as if vibrations rippled around his limbs and head, he leapt to another pillar and hung from it as he watched Alice ignite her blade and cut at Lord Trakaton, her blade bouncing off his thick plate, as she leapt to another pillar and somersaulted to another. Anak gave chase, kicking each pulalr as steppijg stones, he ignited his blade and sweeped below at The Sith Lord, his longer blade reaching as a great red tooth, seeking to bite, it however, bounced off. Alice held her footing and smiled,

“Your a natural! Well come on! We have a Lord to slay!”

She back flipped off the pillar and descended like a a black burd, her cape like wings of shadow as she fell upon the Armored Master. The Darkstar fell as a comet spinning his blade as he became a living blade.

The Two moved as One,
Anak was aware, his senses throbbing with a pulse, his heart beat rang in his head, and his body felt weightless. Whatever was in that spice was great, he never felt so attuned.

Alice between strikes watched the man she had sworn to kill. Now she had initiated him in Tsis rite, and at their requiem. She had sworn to Ophedia herself she’d never love, to be a married to her blade. Now that had changed, the Fates had sent this man, an Outsider, worse the slayer of her sister. And yet when she had found Cecilla’s body, she had no wound or markings of the saber, she looked at peace and her knife was placed in ceremonial fashion upon her chest.

Anak and Alice were beating at the Lord of War, they looked for a place to delve deep the dagger, but so far no opening was promising, they would have to be patient.

 

[Varus Vraks]

Darth Trakaton
Lord of the Sith, Grand Master of the Sith Crusaders, Lord of War, Commander of the Vindicators

Objective: III. The Fortress
Tags: Darth Iraath
​

FIVIUNE | TSIS'KAAR FORTRESS | MENDING
Part V

The medic who saw Dacien first widened his eyes as his superior just got killed by the injured. It was not the first time he had experienced it, but he knew this man for many many years, they had not only served together but were from the same town of where they were recruited, having decided together join the imperial troops. His heart weighed heavy in this moment, grief and anger filling him. Memories ran past and his eyes turned red as he was trying suppress his feelings.

"Rowie, to me, we need to help the Lord." He instead managed to push out, more high pitched than usual and took his bag and started looking at the scaled Sith, avoiding their eyes and focusing on the wounds as they tried to determine what to do first. The second medic appeared and together they started working to stop any bleeding and do something about the pain.

The medic was working without saying anything, he was focusing entirely on his duty and tried to prepare the Sith Lord as good as possible for transport to a proper facility to receive the appropriate treatment. He would not say anything for the next hours either, just nodding and shaking his head to his comrades and kept treating the flood of incoming troopers.

He would never forget the monster that killed his friend.

Objective: III. The Fortress
Tags: Anak Darkstar ​

FIVIUNE | TSIS'KAAR FORTRESS | SCOURING
Part VI

He would not waste time on this for too long. These two were obviously neither worth the effort nor the attention other than for their moment of destruction. So instead of playing chase and catch, Trakaton resorted to a less subtle and delicate approach. They chose weakness. He chose violence.

The Sith Lord did not engage them directly or react further to their attacks, jumps and whatnot little acrobatic circus they were showing off. With a burst of energy, the Dark side unleashed waving through the room like a burning sensation, he jumped upwards and his blade cut twice, severing the top of the column left and right of him. With an audible crack he landed again, actually shattering the floor plates under his armoured figure and his lightsaber swooshed twice again, doing the same to the two columns, just at the bottom.

Without any delay he came up, his lightsaber disginted and his arms extended in either direction. His muscles beneath the plates flexed, his eyes narrowed in focus as his hate and fury filled every fiber of his body with the strength of the primordial force of conflict. The two columns started to fall but not really, stopping mid-air and they were turned into a horizontal position and then accelerated forward, aimed at the other columns in the row, shattering them one by one before they themselves were only shatters and dust.

It was obvious that his did not care about the stability of the room and structure - he would tear down the fortress unto their heads if he had to. It left three rows of columns but in his vicinity they were done. But he was not done. With his hands coming forward, he looked into the direction of the other entrance and with his fists slowly closing like they would crush bare rock in them, Trakaton let the entrance collapse in itself.

It was time for them to realise, he was not in here with them, but they were trapped in here with Him.

 

[Anak Darkstar]

---

Equipement: Praetor Hilt Lightsaber, Single Blade

Objective III: The Fortress

TAG: Darth Trakaton

---

The pillars that Anak and Alice perched on began ro shake, as tye Puppet Master commanded the mason stone and with the saber as His chistle and hammer began to knock down two colums which then were held there in mid air, this made Anak gasp, he looked over at Alice who’s eyes burned out and conveyed terror, he leapt in the sir as the two pillars collided with othees making them fall as prostrate worshippers. Alice held out her hand, beckoning Anak to flee, instead he threw his body between the great stone which collided with his back, there was a great snap, his vertebrae at thoratic curve pulled apart by the pressure, and cracks formed at the discs. His body hit hers, becoming a flesh sponge as the pillar rolled off him and they fell into the rubble and debris.

Alice coughed, her body bruised and her finger broken, as well as her ankle sprained. She then set her finger, making a pop of her ring finger on her left hand. Ahe then searched.

“Anak! Anak! My love!”

He was beneath the pillar, the pain was stayed, the truama so severe his pain receptors numbing him. He knew it was bad, not feeling meant life altering damage. And yet it was worth it. There pinned, he felt a rustling, he heard Alice’a voice muffled. He could not wven move his lips, nor his hand to beat the stone work.

Alice sensed in the Force, there was a faint signature. She followed it to find her love crushed beneath his stone stake, her eyes dropped great tears.

“Oh Anak.. oh my love!”

Anak tried to move his mouth. No worrds came out, his eyes darting to let her know he was concious, well for the moment, that in itself was a miracle, he was pinned in such a way that his body had bot sent signals to black him out. Alice ran her hand through his hair and kissed his brow.

“Its ok! It is gonna be ok! We’ll get you out of this!”

Anak wanted to tell her to flee, to leave him. He was broken, and that Sith Lord might not stop till she was dead. He tried to use telepathy, his first attempt. Whither it was his state of mind or their love bond, it worked.

“My love.. leave me, I am broken.”

Alice heard the words ring in her mind. She grabbed his chin and kissed his cheek, nose, and mouth.

“No! I will not leave you!”

The Broken Acolyte blinked, and spoke through their minds.

“I am finished my love.. take your saber and find Ophedia. Stay alive..”

Alice shook her head.

“I do not want to live without you!”

Anak blinked, his lids all he had power over, they were scratchy from dust.

“Alice.. I have done terrible things.. I regret..”

Alice interrupted him.

“No! No confessions! You are going to live or Force help me and I will end my life and haunt you in the Netherworld!”

Ever since he met her, Alice was dramatic, full of passion and spunk. It was intoxicating.

“Very well.. I suppose we need s plan of action.. I cannot feel a thing.”

Alice looked around, moving Anak could kill him. She needed to find a way to keep pressure on his spine. Taking her shoto blade, she carved the stone, and liece, and tearing her robe she then made holee in the slab and threaded the garment through it.

“Ok.. now to get this thing off you and this in its place.. all at once.”

Anak smiled,

“You got this babe.”

Alice looked at him trying not to cry. His telepathy did not conceal his thoughts, and he was afraid, nor for himself but her.

Alice cut at the pillar holding Anak in place, she hollowed out the back and dropped the piece with robe cloth in. She then began to cut away the rest, sparks flying everywhere. Anak was free after she applied pressure with the slung stone on his spine.

“Sweetie.. try and stay awake.”

She forced the piece into his back and Anak gasped, his vision turning black, he was drifting.

Alice shouted,

“Anak! Anak! Open your eyes! Don’t fall asleep! Anak!”

The Acolyte was ok the threshold her voice growing faint. He saw two figures, one had curly black hair like his, and other straight long blond hair.

“Father.. mother?”

The two approached him.

“Son.. we have been waiting for you.”

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Objective 1: The Blockade

Ferality.

That could be the only word that could describe the order of features which rested upon Malum's face.

Of course, none could see it, masked as he was. Yet, if one looked at any of the bridge crew, focused as intently as they were upon their different tasks. They may have seen a hint, a taste, of that ferality that had so easily taken over both Malum's face, but too, his soul. It was no wonder that such emotion had seeped forth into their forms, after all, when one was at the brink of utter defeat, and then was able to return with such rankour, to utterly dominate the enemy, to push them onto the backfoot, to put them on the retreat.

Well, it simply filled one with a primaeval, a primal, urge.

A baseborn emotion so ugly, that it could not be seen among polite company.

Yet, looking at them all, soldiers, killers, murderers, what was polite about their company?

"Advance, KEEP ADVANCING!" Malum shouted, so caught up in the energy that brimmed freely in the room. His words acted as an ancient war drum, and the crew, as if ancient rowers used it to keep momentum, keep rhythm, keep the advance going forward.

For a ship designed to be a fleet killer, it was certainly accomplishing its role. Stealing the impetus from the vanguard of the Tsis'Kaar fleet, the Mors Vistra, as a knife through hot butter, carved through the Imperial fleet, and as quickly as it moved, it avoided the countermeasures designed to counter it. Its engines burned hotly, as with every laser, every cannon, every hardpoint which the Eternalists threw in its direction, as the snake it was designed under, avoided fire, moving impossibly fast, with the agileness to keep up.

Still, it was but a single ship, as large as it was.

As the predator would leap from target to target, there were simply far too many targets, for it to adequately conquer by itself, and the Imperials, quickly overcoming the shock of the Mors Vistra's appearance, were reforming their lines. Calculating the strategies and tactics of how to come out on top.

And they were picking the correct ones.

Malum watched through the viewports, as damaged ships, injured as they were, flapped away desperately behind undamaged ones. Watched as the smaller cruisers, and lighter ships of their fleet, easily picked off by the torrential assault, began fleeing to the rear and flanks.

That left only...

The Imperial core, lines after lines of Star Destroyers, and other heavy ships, from this distance he could make out so many Khans and Leviathans. Their fronts ready for assault, their guns trained on their query.

An iron wall, that promised both an unbreakable will and unforgiving casualties.

It was enough to give him pause.

Enough for ferality to give way to sense.

"They want to make a durasteel wall? Let's crack it open. Starships!" Malum announced to the whole fleet, and within seconds, the lagging behind Shikkars, Arbites, and other stolen crafts, some even mirroring those facing them, disgorged out their holds, or otherwise commanded their wings to move forth as their admiral commanded.

Kzaevas MK.1 droid bombers, escorted by TIE-H Huntress Class starfighters and Locust-Class droid starfighters, along with a further mish-mash of fighters and bombers from across the Imperium, sallied out of the Tsis'Kaar fleet.

If the Emperor wished to leave his capital ships exposed, then he would punish them severely.

He would punch through the wall, and then, the Mors Mon would be exposed.

For a second, perhaps for longer, Malum forgot this was a battle he was meant to lose.

It was reports returned to various ships, as they reached the Mors Vistra, that he was suddenly, and violently reminded of that fact.

"Imperator, the manned starships are reporting... purple lights," Venerandus reported, and through the viewports, Malum could confirm those reports easily enough, crystalline-like structures, were laid between the path of both fleets... what were they...?

"Imperator, the Ragathor is reporting that the lights were laid down by some smaller ships, that had warped away." Wait... what? The Ragathor had been among the vanguard, it had seen the beginning of the fighting, as was the honour awarded a ship that belonged to him. That was in the end a minor enough detail, what instead was this? Ships that were in the system, left after laying... something.

He felt their presence in the force, as soon as the manned starships began dropping like flies, as if their pilots had been... possessed.

He felt prickles upon his mind, the force of suggestion coming through.

NO!

"Order all pilots to dive, and commence a concentrated bombardment in front of us, destroy all mines, and begin firing on the enemy." He broke his eyes off from the purple before him, the structures continued to call to him.

And he knew if he fell under their spell, all would be lost.

Michael Hightower Taeli Raaf

---

Objective: Unknown

"I shall be fine, don't concern yourself," Malum uttered, his voice grating on his own ears, as his heartbeat deeply and rapidly, "Simply the consequences of bending time and space around you, to... teleport," Malum spoke, beneath his mask a ghost of a smile making itself evident through his voice.

His eyes traversed the area they had found themselves in, the only sound the distant noise of battle, and the nearby soldiers carrying off the artifact that Ali had recovered from Alvaria.

"You know," Malum began, feeling the wind blow up against him, reminded of another time, a distant time, "I believe this is not too far from where I met our Mistress," There was a sombre quality to his voice, he knew it to be true, after all... if he had never been here before, he would not be able to bring himself here.

The masked Marr turned to look at the other masked individual, "Are we... sure, this is the only way?" Malum spoke, with only the wind as the answer, the first time, hesitance had been spoken between them.

Darth Strosius

 

[Xeykard]

Darth Strosius ​

Xeykard felt the shock of the defenders first, then the resolve and bloodlust in counterattack. Further forward was the roaring energy of the sorcerers -- between them a manufactured silence, signalling Tsis'Kaar agents on guard.

He heard sabers activate, and the flashes of pain that followed.

Whatever took his soul in that moment he could not explain. But the choice was made.

He emerged suddenly in the path of the advancing Inquisitor, striking suddenly from the smoke. His massive lightclub swept from the right in a heavy strike, before transitioning to a flurry of stabs and slashes to push his opponent back. His tight-bundled hatred lashed out to devastating effect. No, it seemed to say, you cannot stop me.

 

[Darth Iraath]

Equipment: Lightsaber, Damaged Robes
Objective III: The Fortress
Tags: Darth Trakaton

Fiviune| Tsis'Kaar Fortress Courtyard | Aftermath

Dacien begins to question his actions, should he have kill that innocent medic? Should he deserve that fate for doing what he was doing? No matter, actions cannot be changed after they have been done. Thoughts go around in Dacien's head, but one is very clear, the instructions told by his ancestor, "To travel to his tome on Krazorath". Dacien caught a glimpse of a Lord, possibly the one that sent medics to his location.


Dacien felt himself being hauled from the battlefield on a stretcher, he felt medical instruments being inserted into his battle damaged body, causing immense pain, after several moments his eyes became heavy, forcing him to go into the realm of the dead once more...

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Arkryion Malachar | Michael Hightower | Darth Malum of House Marr | Darth Empyrean | Darth Kentarch | Gerwald Lechner
Location: Fiviune [Orbit]
Equipment: Evolution IV (Main) | (Support) - Armor - Saber - Ring - Accesory
______________________________________________________​

From the imposing heights of the Evolution IV (a gift from Darth Carnifex ) the pale woman monitored events on the surface of Fiviune from within the planetary assault carrier. The pulsating hum of machinery and the flickering lights of holographic displays created an ambiance was befitting of her dark orchestration of war in the cold expanse of space. Her jaw was set so tight that her support staff curiously wondered if her teeth might crack beneath the pressure. Many of her observation drones had been destroyed in localized storms but she still had more than enough following their ground troops. Long white-gold hair fell down her back and golden orbs gleamed with regal intensity whilst she surveyed the systematized, brutal, bloody chaos.

This was not a role she enjoyed.

Watching, planning, and remaining a spectator.

Yet—Providing tactical support was a task at which she excelled. Her hands yearned for the weight of a sword, of a saber, but they were instead bound to the command throne while laser cannons prepped to fire. The Evolution IV was kept from the main space battle as the Empress was tasked with watching over ground operations but she still monitored the adjacent situation. The ship had an impressive array of weaponry but it was mostly designed to facilitate and coordinate a siege.

She would not be caught unaware.

Surrounding her point of command were several other support craft that were primed to take out anything long range that got a little too close. The Tsis'Kaar were not to be under estimated, even in the throes of death, and that fact was proven with the emergence of an all too familiar Super Star Destroyer. She had once been part of a nation that had wielded them in spades. It was impossible to miss with the shadow of a behemoth that she had learned to recognize on radar, regardless, of the shape it took across a cosmic battlefield.

Srina hailed the Sith Order Admiral Michael Hightower on the Emperors Dawn as the Mors Vistra sought to take superiority. It was a fleet killer and she had no intention of allowing their forces to sit back on their laurels and accept defeat. They would do more than simply hold a blockade. They would fight through blazing hell to bring this vile chapter of the Sith Order to a close. The time of the Tsis'Kaar had ended, the time of shadow play against their own, was a thing of the past.

This was a new era and it was well beyond time that the Order made it known. It was beyond time that the people who made up the blood and body of the Sith stood up and declared. Chose a side. Live or die by their own will, with their pride, passion and status intact for the betterment of the next generation. To pave the way for those who would come after…No matter the cost. "Admiral—", Srina commanded, sharply, and her silvery voice cut through the ambient purr of activity, "—Continue to focus all firepower on the Mors Vistra. I want it obliterated in a testament to the unrelenting might of the Darkside. Give the traitorous snakes no quarter, no room to breathe, and no escape."

"We have not come to take prisoners."

Admiral Hightower was disciplined and loyal. He would continue to do as the Lady Sith commanded until his resources ran dry. She watched and waited patiently while the Admiral seamlessly coordinated the fleet and flanked the enemy appropriately through a wall of metal and a seemingly endless swarm of fighters that would seek to pick the SSD apart bit by bit. Death by a thousand cuts.

A hum of energy could be felt while it swelled in their pocket of space, nearly, like a pressurized system ready to blow. It would go off. The Mors Vistra had become the focal point, the symbol of resistance, and it would need to be shattered to establish true dominance both here and on Fiviune. The spaceborne combat had unfolded into a ballet of destruction. Sith Order fighters darted like shadows, unleashing torrents of red blaster fire, in the end, portraying the enemy being engulfed in a storm of relentless onslaught.

But…Would it be enough?

Srina watched on with cold satisfaction that things were going…To plan. It was unlikely that the Admiral would be able to deliver on her demands, but that was far from the point. When it came to pulling something from nothing the Echani was regarded as a ruler of the void. The air was tense within the command deck but the Empress was strangely…Calm. Collected. Even while many of their warriors faced certain death in the wake of what the Mors Vistra brought to bear—Ice flowed in her veins.

The Empress could not and would not be cowed before any enemy. If she did not stand tall and fearless in the wake of overwhelming firepower…How could she expect their people to do the same? How could she expect them to do what she would not?

That being said, in this endeavor, she did not travel with her husband. If one of their transports became compromised and they were eschewed into the cold vacuum of space the Sith Order would lose both monarchs in one fell swoop. Srina arrived without Darth Empyrean due to the tactical advantage of keeping high-value targets in separate places. Not to mention…

They would need him before the end. The nation could survive her death—Not his.

<<Soon, my beloved. Soon.>>
​

She could feel her husband through the ether... Darth Empyrean would return to her soon enough. It was his way. To always find her, even, in the blackest of night that could be found in the empty void between stars. Nothing could keep them parted for long. Ironically….Not even death.

Her gaze lifted from the holo-screen and landed on a figure that had been respectfully silent while learning from those around him. It was important for any Sith to know the inner workings of their battle stations just as well as any officer. One never knew what duty they might be required to perform in a split second that could mean success or failure. Metallic orbs found his gaze and her chin rose slightly. "Arise, Arkryion Malachar ."

"I had intended to keep you at my side throughout this venture but it seems that some of our ground forces have encountered a horde of Terentatek hidden beneath the sands. They are three against an army of beasts. You will join them."

"A transport has already been prepared and Gerwald Lechner has been made aware of your arrival. He is my wolf to call and I would bid that you mind him as you would mind me.", Srina informed, quietly, evaluating his response. Thus far Arkyrion had held up his end of the bargain far more than she had anticipated. He was loyal, skilled, and intelligent. She wanted to see how he would perform in the field in a rather uncontrolled situation. How the Sith Academy had benefitted his skill sets—Or failed him.

She had observed the ebb and flow of conflict with a discerning eye, ever the strategist, and believed her apprentice would be a complimentary asset. A breath of cooling wind to temper the raging fires of that rose from the ash and dust of Fiviune. He would find any weaponry or armor he might require on the way to the transport ship. Clearly, Srina had thought ahead.

Her hand fell to the arm of her wintry apprentice when he passed and the elegant creature silently blessed his path. Arkyrion, she knew, would do well. Not only out of skill but because disappointing her wasn't a viable option. If he succeeded in this mission, he would find himself well-rewarded. He had her faith, her confidence, and her drive to prosper. "Beware the woman with them."

"…She is more than she appears to be."

With that last cryptic comment, she released the much taller Sithling, and turned her analysis back toward monitoring the progress of their troops. There were many engagements taking place on the surface. Darth Kentarch seemed to have been particularly busy and was cutting a bloody path through their enemies. Her mind reached for his, rather, than using comms. He would feel her knock. Wait for entry…Rather than breaking his psyche to get inside. <<Your prowess does not go unnoticed and neither does your loyalty to the Order...>>

Her holographic panel displayed the hooded Sith Lord progressing through the Fortress with unwavering resolve. Srina observed while he battled with what appeared to be a mythic serpent. It was apropos that he had found an actual snake in the belly of a metaphorical viper. Her curiosity was sparked by his discovery but the feed wasn't necessarily clear enough for her to know what it was he had discovered. The death that surrounded him was fresh, intense, and many. The souls of the lost…They would transition eventually.

In the interim, the Empress could feel exactly what he had done. His victories over the Tsis'Kaar were monumental. In that? She could only commend his superior efforts.

<<I will not forget it, odacon asmenys .>>

Now…She could only wait for the finale. The orchestra, the ballad, the beauty of a final death while it all finally came to a deafening close. It was now that the Order would deal with the Tsis'Kaar parasite—Or never.

 

[Anak Darkstar]

---

TAG: No One In Particular

Anak stood with his parents, they both cradled him in their arms, forming a circle around him. The Former Son of Darkness looked up into his mother’s face,

“I an sorry.. I failed you.”

Mrs. Darkstar shook her head.,

“No, I an proud of you! You became more than I had ever hoped!”

The Father placed his hand on Anak’s shoulder.

“Son.. your mother is right, we are proud of you.”

The Son of Darkstar wept.

Suddenly the two disappeared, and The Dark Woman emerged, her crown of spikes oscillating.

“Now Darkstar, you will die..”

Anak looked at her, his eyes burning.

“Did you think you were any match for my power? You who were a dark prince who cast your crown down for a piece of flesh. Each time, you choose to throw it away. Yes, you are no Son of Darkness, rather a Son of Weakness. Now The Void calls, to Chaos you shall go!”

Anak felt himself pull across a plane of shadow, his spirit taken down a great wormhole of flame.

Alice as she moved him felt him go limp, she slappee his cheek,,

“Anak! Anak! Wake up! Anak!”

In the Inferno, Anak felt himself burnt, all was shadow and yet he heard the cries of thousands in stupid anguish. The screams of the Damned deafening, his spirit unable to find ease. Everlasting torment his bread to knead, and bake. He felt as if razor sharp teeth tore him all over, and somewhere in the darkness he saw the shape a Great Squid, red eyes fixed upon him and the many newcomers to The Void.

There in pain unending, Anak felt chains wrap around him and pull him in a coffin. He took a breath, well the illusion of one, and was sealed away in a endless sea of matching black sarcophagi that were then set ablaze.

Alice held the broken body of Darkstar in her arms. She wept, he was alive, she had felt it, and now there was nothing there, his eyes void of tears and that spark of life. She cradled him as she sobbed. Alice wanted to die, the separation beyond any agony she could bear.

The Son of Darkstar’s body was raised up and placed on the fallen pillar that had destroyed him. His every step had lead hin to this requime from those earliest days on The Dark Star as a child to this invasion. He was not to be anything more than the sum of a life abused by trauma, time, and temptation. He had tenderness that kept him from being a true master of darkness and too much anger to forsaken it. His soul was fractured as so many before, he was unable to ascend or descend, a spirit in a stand still since that day of the outbreak that took his parents. He had tried to satisfy the gnaw that ate a hole in the middle of him, numbing it with ardent affection. Love had been a drug to take away the pain, and in the end it could not save him. Nothing could, he was a Son of Perdition…

 

[Varus Vraks]

Darth Trakaton
Lord of the Sith, Grand Master of the Sith Crusaders, Lord of War, Commander of the Vindicators

Objective: III. The Fortress
Tags: Darth Iraath
​

FIVIUNE | FURIOUS ABYSS | RESTORING
Part VII

On the stretcher he would be first carried to the field hospital, a more sophisticated installation which took care of the processing of the soldiers and troopers who had received fatal injuries but could be saved or were worth saving. It was a matter of discretion of the field surgeons, their red lab coats and aprons were mostly dotted or entirely painted with darker spots, indicating that liquid spilled there, blood most of all but not exclusively.

It smelled of death, intestines, urine and vomit in the prefab tent where the Sith Lord was brought and received emergency surgery to save of him as much as possible and to make it viable to put him into the ships medical bay, a treat for only non-Sith officers or Sith themselves under the current circumstances. There he would receive everything required and more before being put into a bacta tank for the healing process.

Objective: III. The Fortress
Tags: Anak Darkstar ​

FIVIUNE | TSIS'KAAR FORTRESS | DESPISING
Part VIII

Darth Trakaton walked up to the miserable sight, the female trying to do something about her loved on being burried under rubble. Their despair and feelings were laughable and had they focused on fighting instead of whatever they deemed more worth, they would have at least gone into death with a spark of dignity. But they had forfeit their existence in exchange for love. It was not romantic, it wasn't even close. He did not know the two and he would never do, nor care, but it was makin him sick to the Sith rotten and degraded to such pathetic weakness.

With his hand extended he would push her away, not just from her lover but the Sith Lord would attempt to forcefully send her flying into the next wall, intending to knock her out at least. There was no place for these creatures here. And he would move on. They were done and his followers would soon arrive and finish them if they hadn't perished by then.

Trakaton did not linger, steps carried him to the blocked entrance which he opened up with a blast of the Force and walked away. His mind fueled by his hate for them and their suffering, sharpening his senses as there was more to do. This fortress was not finished and he felt that it held more than what he had encountered so far.