Dominion The Terrible Glare Fixates On You - TSE Dominion of PL-40112-CE-021105

[AMCO]

Objective II: Capture Specimens
Location: Euclid's Worst Nightmare
Allies: Lark | Karina Lowe & Kimora Min
Post Number II
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Mouth quirking with amusement at the Acolyte's jab, Adrian chuckled softly, all the way directing the bulk of his attention outwards, towards the fight. "Oh, impish indeed, but don't let them hear that - you know how fond nobility are of floggings delinquents."

Like Lark before him, Adrian's tone was humorous, though quickly followed by more serious matters. "Impressive in form, perhaps, but woefully lacking in the mental department - still, they are useful tools and who knows, perhaps these Rozzum will bring with them strange new oppurtunities."

As if on cue, their combined forces battered the last of the fiends to the ground, clearing the way into the temple proper - where stranger things yet might lurk. Taking a step forward, he noted the slowly melting armour of a fallen Ta'arana, a bubbing black ichor eating solid duraplast from the inside. Reaching out with the force, he pulled away a slow trickle of the alien substance, placing it inside a repulsor-based containment vial. "Strange new opportunities indeed."

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

"Thanks." Fiolette replied her voice distorted by the modulator within the helmet. A faceless mask that moved as Fiolette surveyed the landscape, "wasn't sure that you'd notice." Her tone was softer, voice lowered by at least an octave. The surface of PL-40112 was challenging to say the least, between dense vegetation and jagged rocks, nevermind the thickness of the air that felt like you could cut through it with a vibroknife. "You alright?" The Galidraani inquired of her wife, humid climates were not kind to many, but most especially for someone who grew up in the colder planets of the galaxy. ​

​

Fiolette glanced toward the formation of Black Talons ahead of them with Tarkin at the charge. The formation moved like an old antiquated instrument with the formation bunching on the corners but stretched out on the slopes in small thin lines. Their orders were clear, hold the flank and catch any that would try to escape. "You mentioned dinner the other day, I believe I've decided, but not on Stormvale." A pause in her sentence as the Lord Admiral stopped to listen to their surroundings. "Tarkin!" She shouted through their comms, "hold."​

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Silenced reigned over the group so much so that one could hear the trickle of a nearby stream. The quiet buzzing of insects and the footsteps of an unknown origin. The Lord Admiral switched her view to thermal, "Bait nine." She listened again, "soft paw, ante-up." Tarkin at the top of the formation could be heard cursing before he signaled to Raptor Company to take up positions on the other side of what was meant to be a road. No doubt Taeli would've felt the cultists through the Force. Fio waved her wife toward her, with a finger over the mouthpiece of her helmet. ​

​

Another set of non-verbal signals sent Warhawk Company down the slopes to create a soft U formation along the road. Laying prone, body flat against the brush Fiolette set her rifle up and looked through the sights. The only sounds that existed now were the soft shuffling of Legionnaires as they got ready to engage the enemy. Cultists could be heard they shouted at one another, sounds of combat ignited - most likely at the hand of the Emperor's forces. Thermal view engaged, the Black Talons were anxious, tense but ready to fight - and once the cultists emerged from the trees.​

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They were lit.​

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Blaster fire rippled throughout the dense vegetation, the cultists returned fire in kind with slugthrower rounds and grenades. Then came the nasties, the type of beings that were clearly suited for Taeli. "We'll cover you." ​

​

Taeli Raaf ​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Sprinting forward, the Emperor of the Sith barreled through the cultist's pitiful excuse for a barrier. Metal shrapnel spewed out in every direction, scything several of the cultists into pieces before the full brunt of the Dark Lord's power consumed them. Lightning danced through the air, radiating off of the Emperor's monolithic being like water over a rock.​

​

Where his gaze fell, everything living died.​

​

Yet these mindless fools seemed almost eager to die, happy to embrace oblivion with a depraved smile plastered across their scarred faces. It disturbed the Emperor, for he had sought the truth of immortality for many years to circumvent the cold embrace of the grave.​

​

Killing these knaves alleviated the deep unsettlement that had roosted in the pit of his chest, but only a little. ​

​

He looked back towards Gunnr, who dutifully followed him into the thickest of battle without any trepidation. "Come, my Empress. Show them the meaning of fear."​

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Gunnr Zambrano ​

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Objective I: Death to the Order of the Terrible Glare.
Location: Wastes of PL-40112-CE-021105

She had come to investigate, to infiltrate, and rip the Order to pieces from within. But from there, things had gone halfway to chit.

She felt the cuffs fasten around her hands, clenching down on her ashen skin and dark robes, while her lightsabres were taken from her belt and inspected by her near human captors. Darth Ophidia stared at them in seething silence as she restrained herself from action. She was out-flanked, out-manned, for the moment at least.

The chief of her captors took one of the sabres and grimaced against the biting sensation of her hilts. They resisted any touch but hers. Again she had to restrain herself, this time from smiling.

Her burning eyes fixed on each of them in turn. Three, six, twelve. A dozen.

The large one grabbed her fetters and pulled her forward, out of the octagonal chamber she had been cornered in. They dragged her and probed her through a long hallway. She counted turns and branches, but it was hard to keep track. Ahead, a room opened. She could see the stepped pyramidine shape ahead.

She could feel the power of the presence within.

 

[Mythos]

Obj 1: Bringing back SA flare
Location: Wastes of PL-40112-CE-021105

His arrival was different, their clothes were tight and they didn't really fit well but he looked the part. The large one that he killed to get it simply didint exist anymore, no need for disintegration. His Deadly sight left no trace, no atom from what it hit.

With the large robes he followed, an old shadow never forgot his tricks. Little did these fools know who was among them, even less did they know who they just captured.

Upon arriving at the room he followed the figures as one of them, the large chains and ornaments on his ceremonial robes jingling as he went.

One glance he gave her, his yellow eyes unmistakable, his hands sending a messege in their secret language known only to the assassins of the old guard, of the One Sith.

"Twelve more. Rifles. Balcony. No exit."
Darth Ophidia ​

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Objective I: Death to the Order of the Terrible Glare.
Location: Wastes of PL-40112-CE-021105
Mythos

She caught the signs, but all Animus received in return was a cold glare of narrowed eyes. Her irises smouldered with perpetual hatred; so at least she did not appear unusually indignant. With the most subtle of movements she responded with a gesture ahead from her foot: She was going forward with purpose. It was followed by a gesture of her fingertips: Dismissal.

The Pale Assassin had always been dismissive. But Animus Malgus, the man she had dubbed Darth Mythos? He awoke a special and dangerous hatred which she now turned toward the Order of the Terrible Glare. It was subtle to those who did not know: A shift in temperature; a certain stifling sensation in the air. The presence she had sensed ahead turned its gaze toward her. The figure itself was human, but there was something different about its presence. A tension lingered about them, straining the very fabric of reality. She saw it reflected in the eyes of their oracle: The shine mirrored another dimension entirely.

The one dragging her along let go of her chain and pushed her down to her knees. She allowed it, but curled her feet under her like a spring as she bowed her head in mock reverence.

"Augur, shaman of the Terrible Gaze, I see your name is well earned." Her purple lips parted in the wicked smile she had held back for so long "But a power far greater hither comes."

She counted those present again. The fifteen Animus had counted had less than optimal aim at this point. The hallway could be a good chokepoint if they could shore up the room. Ah, but she had no such plan. She did not need to kill them in their entirety.

The Queen of Shadows had come only for the one.

Her speed was blinding when she moved. Her body seemed to melt into its background, like a serpent she lashed out; A spray of venom from her mouth struck one of her captors in the face, blinding him and causing searing pain. She feinted to the right, but went left and wrapped her chains around the neck of another. In a swift tug, the chains twisted the neck of her victim with a sickening crunch.

The path ahead was clear enough for her to slip through. Ophidia darted ahead, slipping the small glass sliver out of the shackle.

Death to the shaman.

 

[Mythos]

Just like old times, violence was quick and she still had the speed of a sand dune viper. But she was angry, not the usual Ophidia angry, the first time he had ever feel her force signature slip, the first time he felt a sliver of her composure move an inch was right now when their eyes met.

She had the lane, she had the momentum, they'd never get a clear shot in time, but if she thought he had traveled twelve parsecs to scout it out she was wrong. The robes came loose and the Ax came down at their necks, decapitating two large beings one after the other passing chainmail durasteel like butter with a single swing of the heavy axe.

A massive, armor clad boot slammed in the back of the headless corpse as she made her attack. This was perfect Assassin work, cohesion, timing and brutality. In less than one second two of their enemies were dead, one was blind and the shaman would still follow.

Whatever she thought and he could imagine a few, one thing never changed. Out of all the Old Assassins only one remained still by her side, to the death. The body he kicked made contact with yet another down the steps, the cult was thrown in utter disarray, the riflemen however were lining up their shots.

"Heretics..."

Darth Ophidia​

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective I: Destroy the Order of the Terrible Glare
Allies: Fiolette Raaf Darth Carnifex Gunnr Zambrano BobertEZ Olorion Fossk

"You would think with my primary lab being on a jungle world I'd be used to this blasted humidity by now, but I feel all sticky already," she replied to her wife's question. She leaned against her saberpike hilt as the Black Talons moved into position, fanning out and setting up to hold their current location. She could feel the cultists just ahead alright. That... utter wrongness that clung to their essences...

"And it's anything you want," she said in regards to dinner, still casually speaking even as she started drawing massive amounts of dark side energies to her command. The Emperor was indeed engaging which meant only a few more moments of quiet for them before the attack came their way. She could feel the Rozzum and their cultists gathering themselves in the Force for the push against their lines.

Breathing through her nose softly, she placed her saberpike in front of her, sticking it into the ground and moving her hands to either side of the energy blade still emitting from the top. It was a new spell for her that she was about to try, curious as she always was about creating new applications of Sith magic. The cultists charged and were met with the barrage of blaster fire from the Legionaries and her wife's prone figure near her. The monsters came next, tentacles and all...

"Tizkas iw Iratzia, Asminys iw Tnika. Mirji an ki Raka dia Mohtoni ki Zutaikima," she intoned. As the spell took hold, the energy blade of her lightsaber started to waver, bulging oddly towards her hands. Dark side energies twined around her fingers and palm, crackling as the energy from the blade coalesced into two spheres resting in Taeli's palms. With a flicker of her will, two blades similar to her own lightsaber erupted from the spheres, racing out to burn through two of the monsters. Another pair ignited from the orbs, staying attached this time, and Taeli rushed forward in a blur of Force speed to start striking down the monsters.

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

Bright crimson-hued lights of death slammed into their targets with great fury. Heavy weapons fire from the slopes whistled down with promises of destruction. The cultists found themselves being torn apart by the sheer kinetic energy that came from impact, let alone the devastating heat and fire that rushed across the landscape. The Black Talons began to push, closing the once soft U-formation into a precise V all the while Darth Arcanix rushed to meet her own opponents. The heavy boots of the Legionnaires crushed the flora beneath their weight, plastoid armored men and women emerged from their positions in a singular unit.​

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Fire, shield, move, rotate. If one didn't know any better, some might mistake them for Stormtroopers of another era. Faceless masks greeted the agonized and pained faces of the enemies. "Ready scar!" Tarkin ordered, his voice carried through the comm systems built into their helmets. Fiolette grabbed her vibrosword as the Cultists numbers began to swell. "Bring up Shadow Knights, UNLEASH THE RIFT MAGES!" She ordered, her distorted voice seemingly darker at that moment.​

​

The Shadow Knights the airborne company followed up Darth Arcanix's personal wing of TIE Fighters. Fiolette's sword found purchase in the exposed side of her opponents and as she completed one attack her sword would cut through into a second. Blood spewed onto her armor before it rolled toward the dirt below, it was then she felt the impact of a power hammer. The sheer force from the repulsor sent her flying backward, feet overhead and then the ground rushed up toward her. Fiolette got to her feet quickly, lessons from an old general began to sink in as she pierced into the hand that once held the power hammer with the tip of her blade. ​

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TIE Fighters screamed overhead, and the airborne men and women of the Shadow Knights could be seen descending upon their enemies. Warhawks let loose another barrage of heavy weapons fire silencing any of the cultists who dared to press further as the V-formation began to shut tightly around the cultists who attempted to flee the Emperor's grasps. ​

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Another swing of the power hammer forced Fiolette to the ground, her knee buckled and her armor began to crack. Worse, she swore she heard a snap just below her knee. She gritted through the pain, and prayed that it was just the knee cap that had been dislocated. The Lord Admiral attempted to get back onto her feet but a follow-up swing of the power hammer sent her backward once more. Her jaw snapped against itself and there was a fierce ringing in her ear. Her sword laid a meter at least away from her grasp, she watched as her opponent approached. The Galidraani waited for him to get closer before unfolding a vibrodagger from the shin sheath and launching it upward toward his neck. ​

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Fiolette activated the stim packs within the suit and rolled toward her sword. She folded it back into her armor before taking out her blaster rifle again, as she rolled onto her stomach. A group of Legionnaires surrounded her, keeping fire as more kisses of crimson brought cultists after cultist to a bitter end. ​

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Taeli Raaf ​

 

[Ellie Mors]

Like the sensation of riding a wave, the flow of space and time rocked her. Time stood still around her - no, it inched forwards and then fell back, everything blurring like wet paint smearing against a glass canvas by the hand of its tired artist. And then, as she felt herself adjust to the ebb and the flow of the force, as she started walking against the current that dragged her and all things towards the future in an otherwise inescapable riptide, it all pulled back in and sent her hurtling back through time.

As the wheel was spun back she emerged as a blur, an optical illusion to any that might have been able to perceive the presence of something else, and with each step the wheel kept turning until she was finally standing at the mouth of the very portal that beckoned for the arrival of the masters of this deranged cult. The reports of their imperial scouts had spoken of maddening whispers, the sort of telepathic voice that urged as well as commanded, without a visible mastermind on the planet. As the smudged canvas was wiped clean the colors of the time she had arrived in seemed to almost drip in, oozing in like ink leeching through paper.

She found herself standing inside of what appeared to be an improvised place of worship, one which housed the very eldritch architecture that the rest of the Empire was now seeking to destroy. There were the cultists, though she paid very little attention to them, interested instead with the one that appeared to be conversing - if only by their body language - with a mind beyond their own. She stepped closer, her shimmer going unnoticed by the rest that continued to go about their business in their preparation for the days to come, and wondered if the voice that spoke in their minds was similar to her possession of a Sith Lord some decades rather than some distant spirit or god as claimed.

Her answer, it appeared, would come soon enough - the man, whatever place in the hierarchy of this cult, seemed to come to an understanding with the voice that spoke to it as it stepped towards the strange technology, which was beyond her own understanding with her general incompetency regarding such things from beyond her own era, and placed their hands upon it. Then it spoke, its words first as mundane and human as any she'd ever heard, before they changed in ways she hadn't expected. Like the duality of tones that had possessed the voice of the Sith lord she had possessed during the fateful duel with Corvus Raaf, the voice that came from this man's lips was clearly of one whose mind was thrall to another's.

But the rift that opened, the one that she had caught a glimpse of in her earlier premonition before she took the plunge into the flow of time, told her that she wasn't the least bit prepared for the things that had waited in the place beyond.

 

[Gunnr Zambrano]

#
Carnage settled around them, driving Gunnr forward as she cut down the resistance beside them. Darth Carnifex at the forefront, Gunnr felt no lack of pride being one step behind and to the side. There were plenty to kill.

Such joy in their faces, as if they believed themselves hopeful chattel desirous of feeding their false gods. The disquiet in her husband might have been esoterically impossible to feel, but the language of his form was open to the Zambrano-wife. Dis-ease. A sickness of the readiness of these cultists to meet such fate. Her eyes narrowed.

Death was no comfort, it was forceful separation. Gunnr promised never to be separated from her love again.

Her lightsaber cut through shrapnel and cultist alike, back angled toward Kaine’s back to protect that which was most dear.

Trotting in front of her Emperor, his Consort grinned and yanked the helmet off her head, letting it clip on a mag strip at her hip. Ginger hair flowed in its’ tight braid coiled in a bun at the base of her neck.

“You bring me to the best parties.” A near flippant smile covered the inhale, as Gunnr faced the cultists in front of the Temple’s chambers. Breath expelled from her lungs, and a miasma of infernal flame burst from opened lips. Cultists screamed and shrieked at the onslaught, their smiles wiped from faces by agonies alone. Or... perhaps only by the temperature of the flame.

Gunnr chased forward, lightsaber raised, in defence of those fellow Sith around her.

Taeli Raaf

 

[Darth Carnifex]

He had carved a path of terror through the decrepit temple, the glow of his lightsaber bleeding into the dark crimson marks which stained the floor and walls. Though the cultist's zeal was commendable, they lacked the proper equipment or organization to contend with the Empire's well-oiled machine of war. Tenacity could only get them so far, and they continued to break upon the implacable shore of the Empire's most stalwart soldiers. He slashed through another cultist's throat while his Empress-consort bathed several more in golden flames.​

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"I smell death." He placed his hand on a large stone door that blocked their path, feeling the life forces beyond it and growling hungrily. ​

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With a vulgar display of the Force, the Emperor broke into the central ritual chamber; a large space occupied by what appeared to be a non-functioning Gree waygate surrounded by large throngs of cultists intoning in the same blasphemous tongue. There seemed to be no head to this congregation, the Shaman having been dealt with by the Queen of Shadows just before. ​

​

They had been sacrificing themselves upon an altar slick with offal, each ritual feeding their dark masters behind the veil of reality. Had they been allowed to continue unabated, they would have undoubtedly succeeded in their maddening work. Unfortunately for them, the Empire had come to destroy all evidence of their heresy. The Emperor reached up with one hand, his will seizing the stonework of the ceiling above the waygate and squeezing the weakest portions. Chunks of stone began to collapse down onto the gathered heretics, crushing them beneath tonnes of rubble as the Emperor collapsed the entire ceiling upon their heads.​

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"Let this be a warning to all who would dabble in powers beyond their comprehension." He turned to look at Gunnr Zambrano with the faintest hints of a smile curling at the corners of his lips, "All who oppose the Sith will be destroyed."​

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Mythos

Blood scattered across the floor from the severed heads as they spiralled away from the blow of the axe. The one she had blinded with her spray of venom fell to his knees and started vomiting as the venom crept into his skin and eyes, entering the blood flow and taking nerves apart. His skin became pale and streaked with black veins as he crumpled together.

Meanwhile, Ophidia drew her small, glass blade from it's hiding spot in her shackle. It glinted just barely in her hand as she lunged.

In her lunge, her form appeared to split into three flickering mirages: One went low, bringing the blade toward the shaman's groin to sever the arteries there. One went right, reaching for the shaman's wrist while stabbing for his ribs with the glass shard. One went for the opposite wrist, slashing for the throat.

Which was real? If any?

The shaman stepped back, yanking his right hand back and avoiding the attack on his throat, wrist, and groin. He gambled that she would go for the most lethal attack. When the blade hit his ribs and shattered into his lung, he knew he had chosen wrong. She let go of the broken glass blade and wrapped the chain around his neck as she turned to face Mythos and the gunners.

"I trust you have your own way out, Animus."

Her lips were still smiling, but her eyes still burned with loathing. Then, she and the bleeding shaman both vanished.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Beyond the curtain that separated their two distinct realities, Braith saw the darkness that could have swallowed the galaxy whole. As the waves of an ocean during the mightiest of storms, the sea that lay beyond this veil was battering against the thin film that kept the masters of these cultists at bay. At first it was as the ebb and flow of the force that she tread upon to walk back through time and space to witness this moment, a simple push and pull with an urge to move forwards and progress, but quickly she realized that what lay beyond could perceive her eavesdropping - the desperation to break through made this apparent as it became focused and directed itself towards her, like a mass with a single purpose.

She was almost ignorant to the ritual suicide that took place at the alter, until the stench of iron and the darkness of the force itself entered her senses. This vision, this image of what existed on the other side of the fabric of reality, was suddenly made clear to her - clear that this window that acted like a port hole between the two realms was for her eyes to see, like a premonition of what could be but was not yet despite the paradoxical nature of her now walking through the ripples in time to merely observe what had happened before the empire had began the brunt of its assault.

And despite all of this, the tide of darkness on the other side of the veil forced itself harder against this window, struggled with even greater desperation, as if it was suddenly aware of the realization that had washed over her - as if it knew that she had unknowingly avoided drawing whatever beings lay beyond into the galaxy at large. The image faded, as the Sith arrived in this trip to the past. As the colors leeched out from her vision, and the canvas smeared again with a drab translucence, Braith left the past with two valuable pieces of information. Standing now far behind a massacre, the present leaking back into view as she retread her path to the past, the knowledge that this cult worshiped something far beyond their understanding was still fresh in her mind.

"Quite the disappointment." She said aloud, turning away from the direction of the Terrible Glare's last stand that lay off in the distance, with an expression that matched her tone. She sighed, wishing that perhaps there could have been more time, but forced herself to be content with the second piece of information she'd garnered from this dive into the past. A glimmer of light shimmered in her hair as she walked away, like a trick of light, but the smug grin that rooted itself firmly into her face hinted at something else.

Orphan no longer.

 

[Mythos]

It was like parting the sea but with blood, poison mist and bodies. The one below was trying to push the body of his fallen comrade off him when the Ax came down on his skull, Mythos walked down the steps calmly, his eyes still firmly on the row of riflemen. There was a blinding light that overcame the room, bathed the place in a flash like a flashbang would.

His eyes shined white, one by one the riflemen became dust, ash, their very form and physical existance vanishing from the galaxy. One rifle hit the floor, then another and another until finally they were all alone, the only sound in the room his boots and clanging chains.

With one hand he pulled his cowl back and turned his eyes to his ancient master, matching her hatred and smile with his own but his eyes now turned back to normal.

"Old and forgetful? Say it ain't so"

His words were accompanied by his right hand reaching out to the force into the pocket of the dead chief retrieving The Fates. Inside of them The Heart called to him, The Eye of Swatas and the Anciet Eye that hung around his neck made a small symphony of darkness when so close to each other. He didint let the metal of the blades touch his skin, they floated to his master and then awaited her grasp.

His smile was even more arrogant than usual, as she stepped into darkness boots could be heard coming from the entrance to their location. He knew he would have to deal with them alone and wouldn't have it any other way.

Darth Ophidia​

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Mythos

"Unperceptive, Animus."

The Fates started to dissolve, first, seemingly into a tangle of ashen serpents writhing around each other. Then the serpents cracked with embers and turned to dust, which in turn burned out to nothingness.

Since the fall of the One Sith and their last meeting, she had acquired many a new skill and fortified skills in which she had previously been sub-par. Age had forced her to adopt new strategies, to grow in unexpected ways. And after the death of her master, she had found holocrons that taught her these subtle ways.

The sabres had felt real to those who handled them, down to the stinging sensation and unwillingness to work in the hands of those who did not own them. She knew every detail of the sabres, she knew what it felt like to hold a pair which resisted her touch. The real sabres were hidden inside her belt, where the enchantment kept them hidden from prying minds, not clipped to the outside of it.

When she vanished, she did not simply do so from sight and sense. No, she had truly and thoroughly left.

 

[Mythos]

"Always one step ahead master"

His smile widened, she hadn't gotten too old, her illusions were great, almost as good as his. The embers of the vanishing sabers lit up his face, she could have left, let him figure it out on his own.

She didint, this once again another teaching in the arts he had neglected to perfect. His old master never stopped evolving, much like himself and if and when he could catch her she would always teach him something new.

He missed this, the shadows, needing to think tactically. He sighed as she vanished, knowing he wouldn't see her again any time soon if ever again. He wanted to reach for her, to grab her and tell her to stay, to take him back... but he knew what she would say.

This boiled his blood, envy of whoever was her new apprentice consumed him. What did they have that he didint? He was an accomplished Warrior with millions of kills under his belt and whoever this new kid was that drew her time and attention... he couldn't be as good.

He clenched his teeth so hard some cracked, black tears of anger rolled down his cheeks as he couldn't even sense her anymore. She vanished like she was never there to begin with.

There was one up side, the room became flooded with armed cultists so numerous they baerly fit. He called his Axe to his hand and readied the bloody weapon by clearing the entrails of this enemies from it. At least he had something to take out his ire on.

They shouted in their language, claimed he was surrounded, to lay down his weapons. For once in battle he did not smile. Never before had he so brutally killed so many people personally.

Darth Ophidia​

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective I: Destroy those that dared injure her wife
Allies: Fiolette Raaf

Energy sheared through tentacle and gray flesh, burning away the lives of the unnatural monsters unleashed and revered by the cultists. She had sensed the Emperor's destructive act, and apparently the cultists and remaining monsters had felt it too. Their shrine was destroyed, their tether to what lay beyond severed... and that made them all the more desperate and dangerous.

And that was when her bond with Fiolette flared with pain, and the Lady of Secrets saw red. Much like what had occurred when Fio had been injured by twisted Neti, Taeli immediately plunged into the depths of hatred and anger towards those that would dare injure her own.

"Why don't you just vanish!" she snarled, unleashing her powers. The blades of energy from her hands fragmented into a multitude of tiny slivers, crackling with red light, and in her rage, she directed them like a storm of needles, burning through everything before her. Monsters, cultists, trees, rocks... everything in front of her on this planetoid was shredded and burned by the energy slivers.

When nothing moved except Sith Legionaries moving to secure the rest of the battle site and to make sure nothing was left alive, she returned to her saberpike and retracted it back to its smaller hilt and immediately proceeded to her wife's side.

"Try not to move," she said gently, holding her hands over Fio's injured knee and chest. Going through issues they might be, but she still loved her. Purple energy surrounded her hands and she began healing her wife's injuries.