The Slog (Dominion Tier 2 Dom of Vjun and Aargonar)

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The youth snorted.

"It isn't much of an order yet. Just a gathering of old masters and knights errant, but they're trying. Another able hand would undoubtedly be of great help." Cedric explained as he turned from the battlefield. He'd seen enough of that hellscape for now.

"They make their home on the world of Eol Sha, as I said. A handful of them are here. Well," Cedric gestured back toward the conflict. "Out there, trying to stop the Mecrosa before they kill anyone else. I'm needed here, but once we've finished I can take you to them." With that, Cedric strolled back into the clearing. It was a tiny patch of green amidst a sea of basalt and obsidian. The rocks here were not jagged and gruesome, but smooth and cool to the touch.

The two soldiers escorting Cedric began to make the rounds outside of the clearing. The youth settled down in its center, his eyes drifting shut as he reconnected with the web of minds he had woven just a few hours ago.

A part of him remained present in the physical realm. "I know of you, Vorian Adasca," the Archlord finally admitted. "You served alongside my parents, or so I've been led to believe. The only Arkanian Jedi my father ever came across."

[member="Vorian Adasca"]

 

[Tyberius Fel]

Vorian witnessed the youth with the galaxy upon his shoulders seat himself almost casually and drift away to re-assume command of his conquering Legions that promulgated their conquest of the scorched landscape with fire and steel. He remembered, as a young Jedi Padawan, how the needless killing and subjugation seemed to fulfill no other purpose than to stroke the hubris and megalomania of Warlords and Strongmen. Yet, with each and everyday, it became more and more apparent that some source of power, some fountain of authority would be required to drag the Galaxy into peace and prosperity, kicking and screaming if necessary.

"I know of you, Vorian Adasca."

The dull, matte robings that hung loosely from Vorian's form suddenly blasted forward with a burst of wind brought forth by a passby of low flying dive bombers.

"What became of your father?" Vorian asked, to the sweeping chorus of distant explosions. The last he saw Mephirium, or Cyril Grayson as he might had called himself most recently, was when the two became separated in the midst of combating terrorists on some forsaken planet.

 

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I don't know.

That answer wasn't adequate. The youth's brow furrowed as he fought to find a better one, but few materialized in his mind. Those that did were particularly lackluster. His lips parted to provide an answer just as the ship flew over, blowing back his cowl and revealing a youthful face of patrician features. He looked quite similar to both his parents: his father's jaw, his mother's nose, both of their focused gray eyes. The acid rain fell upon his pale skin like a series of kisses from a lost lover, but he paid the itch they gave him little mind.

"Gone." Came the answer. "Not dead, but gone. He and his allies guard the gates of the Netherworld now. They work to keep the fabric of reality from tearing itself apart. He seeks me out at times, but the being that stands as the warden of the afterlife is different from the man that raised me."

A quiet sigh fell from his lips, and his eyes opened somewhat to meet Vorian's. "He built all of this; him and his closest allies. Most have since died, and those that remain are bitter. I don't thank my father for this task, but it is one that I will tackle as best as I humanly can. The Jedi Code has helped me retain my focus along the way."

The youth paused as another turn twisted its way through the battle. With a show of raw will on Cedric's part, the threat of panic was quelled. "What did you think of him, Vorian?"

[member="Vorian Adasca"]

 

[Tyberius Fel]

Vorian hesitated for the slightest moment. "He was a man of enormous character, a man unshackled from the boundaries of Jedi and Sith." The Arkanian paused in contemplation; contemplation of the time they spent fighting, the wars wrought and the widows widowed. "There was nary a time where he felt more comfortable than at the head of some army, forging a righteous destiny. Yet, he was troubled. Always troubled." A sigh. "I hope he's found some peace of mind now."

The Jedi studied the youth more closely. He could see he was not quite the consummate warrior as his father was, but the way he led men with not only battle meditation but words.. perhaps he could do what his father couldn't. "There's no dishonor commanding from the rear. Your talent is a terrible one."

 

[Alyson Halle]

The dust storm had almost made its way there, buut the Vong tide had stopped but nouw there were hundreds if not thousands of vong out on the field. Alyson had an idea to end this once and for all. She needed to find the leader, chop off the head and the body will die with it, or so she thought. She directed her men to plunge into the door which had been left relativly undefended, she directed her men to help the remainder of the forces while she charged for the door with two other men. If the man on the speeder [member="Tandar Dest"] wanted to come he could too, but that was his call. On the charge in they were able to push through at the door into the entryway to the base, however he enterauge had died in the process, laying outside the door bleeding from their chests from the deadly bioplasmaprojectors, their armor simmered out with a unnatural smoke, dead on the ground.

The room was largely empty, it was odd, it was quiet large and made of some odd shiny marble like stone, it was quiet and vast, it was large and vast with sunbeams shining through small holes in the roof, it was quite pretty and extremely well made. Fit for a king you could say.

 

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"His legion shattered worlds in his name."

The words spilled from Cedric's lips before he could stop himself. Fortunately, the 501st soldiers were far enough away that they had not heard him. A quiet sigh of relief fell from the youth's lips as he accepted that realization. With a shake of his head, he opened his eyes and met those of Vorian. "I intend to finish his mission, however long that might take." Vorian would know what the youth meant by that. His father's ambitions had been terribly large.

The man had hoped to hold the galaxy in the palm of his hand. That legacy had fallen to his only son, whether the boy wanted it or not. The fate of stars and a number of trillions fell upon his shoulders; the weight of the galaxy itself had lingered at the back of his mind since infancy.

"I am told it's a rare one. I don't share the abilities of my progenitors. My father was a warrior, my grandmother was a healer. I am...I am my own man," Cedric muttered this with a nod, his brow furrowed with determination. A man's blood did not define him.

"The battle turns in our favor. Vjun will belong to the Dominion soon. The leaders of the Macrosa will be offered surrender. If they agree, they may maintain a kernel of their authority under the watchful gaze of the DSB," Cedric's visage relaxed, "Why do you wander out here, Vorian Adasca?"

[member="Vorian Adasca"]

 

[Alexandros]

After him and Shorarri cut down the guards, Alexandros repeated what he had done before, realising a pair of dominion soldiers and passing them weapons and keys.

"The Dominion is on it's way, what'da say those of us locked up down here roll out the red carpet. Me and my furry friend here are going to clean out the lockup where they keep our weapons, get these guys organised and we'll arm them." He turned to Shorarri, "They're bound to have heard us, are you ready for a battle my friend?"

Alexandros had to hide the smile that was brewing, regardless of what happened here this was going to be a battle that would not be forgotten, and each and everyone of them who fell would be well revised in the realms of Tafos.

[member="Shorarri"]

 

[Shorarri]

Shorarri growled in approval [Yes, let us finish this fight]. Shorarri handed one of the prisoners his riffle and decided to use his bare fist. He threw open the doors revealing a long hall that led to the armory. In front of them stood two guards. One wielding a lightsaber the other a simple blaster. Shorarri threw his arms back and roared at the pair in defiance. He charged them head on and the Sith atempted to cut at Shorarri with his saber. The Wookiee caught the Sith's hand as he made his over head swing. With his free hand Shorarri grabbed hold of the Sith. He began to squeeze the mans saber hand. Hard. And with his other he clout the Sith about the head. The man slumped over unconscious and in his hand where his saber once was was now a small mess of ruined electronics. Shorarri had broken the man's hand and his saber.


[member="Alexandros"]

 

[Causstik Rahn]

Causstik Rahn watched as one of the Drouks was swarmed by Vong. The giant beast fell to a knee as they jabbed at it's tendons with pike and sword. They climbed atop the creature and it roared in anger. It once more stood up and shook itself violently. Flinging Vong warriors everywhere. The Drouk fired its missiles point blank into the horde of Vong charging it. This caused its own missile pod to detonate and the resulting chain explosion was humongous. A great cloud of red mist and gore sprayed the surrounding area and Causstik Raised his arm to shield himself from the blast. The other Drouk still clung to the walls and the Vong atempted to force it to release its grasp, but the beast merely swatted them from atop the battlements. Causstik and his small platoon climbed the Drouks back and hopped atop the wall. Where they entered a bloody melee with the Vong warriors.

[member="Alyson Halle"]

 

[Alexandros]

Not to be shown up by [member="Shorarri"] 's impressive display Alexandros disregarded the blaster pistol and charged with the viboblade, impaling the man through the heart and knocking him to the floor, putting his knee through the man's face Alexandros picks the key card off the man's lanyard.

"I've got the key, let's get ready."

Alexandros swiped the reader and opened the door to a massive stockpile of gear, rather than browsing, or grabbing the first weapon on the wall he dug in to the piles eventually coming up with his lightsabers, his blaster, armour, and greatcoat.

He turned to Shorarri as some of the others began to show, "Well, lets do this."

 

[Alyson Halle]

Alyson as barely in the door when a massive beast careened itself through the walls decimating them. Many bodies fell through the fancy pretty stone, the sun shone in quite brightly into the once beautiful room. Corpses of various races were strewn about the floors, moaning and groaning was common, blood splattered all over the floors. Alyson quickly moved along across the room, to attempt to move towards a sort of throne room that had to be somewhere. Maybe he was in a war room, wherever he was she would need to find him. Hopefully that would be soon.

 

[Grace Darkson]

Post 1

Grace moved quietly as she approached the lines of Vjun. She was late, very late. Part of her doubted she could even help the battle at this stage. Still, she was here, and that would help things. Maybe. At least, she could offer some support against the Mecrosa order.

They were up against a Sith cult, hailing from noble blood. Perhaps not the most powerful of orders, but cultists could still be a threat to those without the Force's blessing. She sighed, wondering if it would be difficult to even break them, or what kind of tricks the cult could pull on anyone who entered their inner sanctum.

As she drew close to the rear guard, a small smile of recognition crossed her tired features. The Archlord. Well, may as well say hello. Careful steps brought her near where [member="Vorian Adasca"] and [member="Cedric Grayson"] spoke. "The Mecrosa are a cult of Sith, and nobles at that. Surrender may well not be on their minds."

 

[Tyberius Fel]

It was a odd thing, for one so long to speak of warfare and butchery with such blithe disinterest. He wondered how long it would take for this Grayson to become hard and unkind, or perhaps he would never reach that point. After all, the tales of young and bold conqueror-kings rarely ended with dying peacefully in a warm bed.

"A botanical survey." Vorian shrugged his shoulders. The Arkanian Jedi dropped down almost right next to the youth and focused his mind's eye on the traditional Jedi meditation. He would have to become a eye of peace in a storm of calamity, yet this became more and more difficult with each passing day. Where once meditation and peaceful self reflection could erase fears and sooth all his doubts, the Arkanian Jedi found that it barely restrained the turbulent storm of uncertainty that pressed against his ribcage.

"I'd like to meet your.. Jedi and discover more about this Dominion." He said, just as he sensed the approach of a woman.

 

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16/25

Where one was the figure of white, the other was the creature of black. Cedric stood in the middle, clad in his cloth of crimson and armored in his faith. The seated figure opened his eyes to behold [member="Grace Darkson"], one of the few Sith that had taken to the Dominion's call. He knew little of the woman, save for that she lacked the certain harshness that many of her kin shared. Then again, perhaps calling them kin was a generalization. The Sith that disagreed with the Dominion generally took upon the role of antagonist.

While Grace might have held similar beliefs, reports showed that she was not so radical.

"Some will accept it to preserve their lives and the powers they have accrued for themselves." Cedric mused, gray eyes flickering over to the battlefield beyond. "Vjun lacks much by way of resources. We've cut their supply lines, broken their alliances, and now we crush their armies. As it happens on Aargonar, so to shall it happen here. Divide and conquer." The youth spoke matter-of-factly. Things had proceeded as he had predicted to an acceptable level; enough so that he might speak confidently about it.

"Once this ends, I will take you to them." Cedric promised as Vorian drifted into his trance. He gave the Arkanian a gentle nod; that affirmation was enough.

"I expected you to be at the head of the charge, Grace Darkson," Cedric added, his attentions shifting back to the woman. "Bast Castle is a place of the Sith. I thought you would want to be one of the first to discover its secrets."

[member="Vorian Adasca"], [member="Grace Darkson"]

 

[Shorarri]

Shorarri watched as [member="Alexandros"] ran the enemy through with his vibrosword. The enemy crumpled to the ground dead. Alexandros picked a keycard off of the enemies corpse and opened the door. Inside it was a arms dealers candy shop. So many guns. Shorarri couldn't decide. So, he opted to grab as much as he could carry. He grabbed a bandolier of grenades. Then he found his satchel underneath a pile of vibroswords. One of which he grabed too. Then Shorarri spotted it. A massive mini gun that looked like it was made to mount on a tank rather than be carried by a human. Shorarri hefted the thing upwards with both hands and roared in delight. He patted the huge gun and found some lettering stenciled in on the side. B.F.G Curious Shorarri thought I wonder what it stands for

[member="Alexandros"]

 

[Grace Darkson]

Post 2

The young Sith took pause at [member="Cedric Grayson"]'s words. She did want to explore the castle, and indeed someone like her would be well suited to break whatever hold the Mecrosa would maintain. But there had been other things she had needed to attend to. "I would love to see what secrets the castle holds. The Mecrosa have had thousands of years to twist the Sith's teachings to their cult, and simply comparing it to the knowledge of modern Sith would be a no doubt enlightening endeavor." As she spoke of the knowledge and teachings, there was a joy that emanated from her, like an excited fan talking of their favorite show. "Not to mention their unique architecture. I have colleagues who would love nothing more than a chance to tour it and see first hand the castle's structure." A small sigh escaped her.

Krayiss Two. The planet's name echoed in her mind, and pressure began to build behind her eyes. The time she had spent there had taken a toll on her, and part of her knew it showed. Her legs were still sore from the exertion of spending two weeks holding her hip in place with the Force. Not to mention the stress of dealing with the old Sith Spirits.

[member="Vorian Adasca"] [member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

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17/25

A hint of amusement flitted across the youth's features.

He peered up at Grace from behind the thin cowl of crimson, his lips pulling back into a rare smile. Grays eyes narrowed as he appraised the young woman for all she was worth, from her aesthetics down to what he assumed to be her core motivations. There was much one could learn from simply watching someone, and he had already inferred a great deal from Miss Darkson. Particularly from her current position on the battlefield, or rather the lack thereof.

"Then why are you here, and not with the spearhead?" The young Archlord asked as he left [member="Vorian Adasca"] to his meditations. He allowed a larger chunk of his mind to break from the battle meditation; the young man needed a few moments of rest if he were to keep his mental faculties from shattering all together. "Surely you understand that much of what await within the castle will be pilfered by our men?"

Gray eyes carried off to the distant vista of the castle.

"Books stolen, records broken, captives bribed," they drifted back to Grace. "You're the scholar, not the warrior, aren't you? Your skin has more value than a few paltry tomes that might prove to be entirely useless; I can understand that utilitarian mindset."

[member="Grace Darkson"]

 

[Bhakt Wemk]

(9/25)

Bhakt cursed and let out a load groan as he slowly pulled the shard of rock from his left arm. The shard was wedged deep and he felt it rub against the bone as he pulled. With one last growl and a hard yank he managed to tear the shard from his arm. He sighed in relief but then his head spun. He looked down and realized the wound was gushing blood. Bhakt ripped a piece of his long sash and tied. His movements slowed as he reached into his belt pouch and pulled a bacta stim. He pushed the needle into his injured arm and sighed with relief as the healing plant worked it's magic. His eyes became heavy then..so heavy. Before he lost consciousness he thought he heard somebody yell something about the new Archlord arriving over the comms.


The NIkto groaned as he felt himself sway back and forth. He didn't think he was dead, and realized he wasn't the second he felt the infernal rain splash on his skin. He sat up slowly and realized he was gurner as it hovered toward the small Mecrosa fortress. He turned to the medic that was escorting him.

"Did we manage to take the foward base?"

The medic nodded and gave Bhakt a complete sitrep. Apparently with the arrival of the Archlord the soldiers found themselves more than capabalbe of taking anything the assassin's threw at them. It also helped that he'd arrived with reinforcements in the form of the fabled 501st legion. Bhakt flexed his injured arm and winced. It hurt but he could more than manage. He hopped off the gurney and headed back to the frontline despite the protests of the medic.

"I'm fine, I can't let this new Archlord take all the karking credit for the victory here now can I!"

 

[Grace Darkson]

Post 3

Her smile faded as [member="Cedric Grayson"] spoke. He was analyzing her, picking away at her words and actions. There was potential there, a possibility for a leader who couldn't be manipulated to the whims of another. That could be good, assuming that the man in power was a good one. Maybe it was best that he was more like his father than most Jedi she had met. There was more value in a level head that saw the world for what it was than an idealist who followed his code blindly. One who wanted to make the world right must first see what is wrong with it, after all.

"My pilot, the idiot, refused to land any closer to the front." Maybe she needed to get a droid to help her fly the ship. The person she had hired simply wasn't willing to do what was necessary. Still, he raised a point. "I was heading to meet the front before spotting you. I figured I should at least meet the new Archlord before all this ends."

To his comment, she gave a small nod. "I grew up fighting for my life. It seemed fair to stop focusing on it when I had the chance." Her gaze shifted to stare at the castle. There was so much there, just waiting for the taking. Part of her wondered why she had taken the time to even speak to the young man. She would be of more use up there.

 

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18/25

A moment of pain stole Cedric's attentions.

The mind one particularly prominent individual suffered. He had lost consciousness in the conflict and awoken on a stretcher. Unlike the majority of his comrades, he rose to fight once again. For a moment, Cedric assumed this presence to be Jedi Knight Sedaire, but a quick check of his mental faculties revealed that individual to be incapacitated. This figure was a new one, and it had the force. Intrigued, the Archlord's eyes drifted shut as he focused on that singular bundle of light in the dimness of the castle's shadow.

It was there that he saw the rallying figure that was [member="Bhakt Wemk"]. A Nikto, so far as he could tell, and one whose mind was scarred by conflict. It felt like a sea of canyons and bombed out no-mans land; a stark contrast to the open meadows and cityscaps Cedric had seen in other mind. Yes, this individual was unique, one of grave importance.

Though words could not be carried, the young Archlord pressed encouragement through the web of minds. Doubts, fears, pains - all were burned away beneath the youth's iron will. In their place stood promises of confidence and a greater, if temporary, connection to the force. All of this was Cedric's gift to Bhakt. The hand of a specter was clasped upon the warrior's shoulder, and the men around him would rally to his cause. Even the 501st would diverge to make way for this chosen warrior.

Darkson spoke. The distant world vanished, replaced by reality. Cedric's eyes fluttered open as she explained her circumstances, and he found himself cracking an amused little grin.

"You've struggled much Grace Darkson," the cowl was drawn back, acidic rain splattering over Cedric's pale features. "And you've defied those that would call themselves your betters. I believe you seek power, as all Sith do, and that will be granted to you for your loyalty." Leather-bound fingers stretched toward the cloud-choked sky. "You see what others cannot. You know that we must unite, or perish."

Gray eyes shifted to meet her own. "That is why the castle of Bast shall be yours, knight of the Sith."

[member="Grace Darkson"], [member="Bhakt Wemk"]