Tomb of Fire

[Taeli Raaf]

Oricon, Ruins of Darth Vitus's Compound​

A place of darkness and flame, rivers of molten lava flowing around and through what had once been a stronghold of power for an ancient Sith. It was here in the fires and stone that [member="Lorale Farmar"] and [member="Mlow Eman'outther"] would be drawn in their venture. One of the Project Aura Sithspawn involved in the Lady of Secrets' Challenge of the Twelve was ensconced within.

They would see they were not the first to attempt to fight the being within the ruined citadel. Bodies burned beyond recognition, three unfortunates that had failed the Challenge by being bisected or torn asunder. It was a gruesome warning to those attempting the test that what lay beyond was no ordinary beast.

In a large circular chamber, a ring of lava bubbling around the chamber, the monster waited for the next being foolish enough to fight it. The Nisosuti iw Saud already taking pride in those he had offered to the gods of the dark side, but more would not hurt as he and his siblings served. The Bringer of Fire crouched on his haunches, his mighty axe resting in two of his arms, waiting... just waiting...

Nisosuti iw Saud​

 

[BobertEZ]

What could be said of the land the Phoenix had brought their cadre to? Fire, brimstone, rage, wrath, fury, darkness. It was all of these factors in one, a vessel for the energies that gave the Sith their power that they had used for millennia. For eons, they had come to this planet, searching for its secrets and training to hone the growing beast within them, to house the power that would make them Gods amongst the Galaxy's peons and whelps. Oricon was as much as the Sith as the Sith that utilized its potential.

Lorale enjoyed this concept and promise, but never had the chance to visit the planet for they were preoccupied with events beyond even themselves for the most part. Rampaging for decades, serving Empires and Republics and Orders and Confederacies for centuries until finally settling on the one, the singular faction that provided health, wealth, and happiness in bulk. The Sith Empire was Lorale's home and their family, just as much as Noxis and the Koignalteth were. It provided challenges, growth, and power in ways that not even the Heart of Noxis could have predicted in its infinite wisdom. The beast that lay within the burning temple, as part of Project Aura's challenge, was yet another promise for power. How coincidental, then, that this promise was upon the planet of promise.

The ship that dropped off the Phoenix and their cadre (Mlow Eman'outther, Jargaza-Yshu, Vigilant Salvation, Anastasia Graves, Alrekur Varmarsson, Yacmoa-Eaha'm, and five of Lorale's personal Legion ordered under the command of the Kudon) was larger than the standard dropships or shuttles the Empire usually employed for landing procedures. It was roughly one-thousand meters in length and boasted numerous weapon emplacements designed to eviscerate enemy ships and even ground-based targets, thus giving those on-board additional protection against Oricon's denizens as they awaited the completion of their master's objective.

For this planned encounter, the Phoenix had taken to appear in their normal armored form, standing at the full eleven feet in height, and wielded the Wolfblade of Noxis, as usual, which would grant them immense power in the inevitable combat that would come against the beast within the temple. The air around group that entered the temple's courtyard was suffocating and heavy as if it were made out of bricks, enough so that even the Phoenix, who was quite literally a spirit inhabiting organic-based armor, felt the effects.

"Frack, I hope the air within the temple proper is easier to breath that out here," Jargaza-Yshu complained, hefting his obsidian sword onto his shoulders.

"Perhaps it is part of the challenge," Anastasia offered. "To see if those who attempt it can even make it inside."

Alrekur scoffed and spat a glob of mucus on the charred dirt beneath his feet, "Well...whoever decided that can go su-"

"Enough!" the Phoenix shouted in a rare tone of annoyance. "By the Heart, you are Vortex Spawn, my sons and daughters. will not have you complain like infants."

"We wouldn't have to had you not brought us here to train your pet," Yacmoa-Eaha'm countered, only to receive a hard smack to the back of his head courtesy of the Skeleton who protected the rear of the cadre. The Arkanian attempted to ignite his lightsaber in response, but found his movements halted by the calloused hands of Alrekur whose eyes blazed with admonition. The Dark Jedi shoved the wild man away and stomped after his master.

The temple doors swung open with a simple flick of Anastasia's hand, allowing the cadre to enter unhindered. The inner workings of the temple were filled with mystery and warning: bodies burned beyond recognition, three more torn to pieces by the beast that lay further within the temple. The Phoenix could feel its fury, its burning hatred. Whatever it was, it could not be defeated. Not easily anyhow, not even by the veritable God of War that Lorale Farmar had become following their transformation. The hallways were winding and then straight, short and then wide, but always lead a clear path towards what awaited inside. And then it came upon them: the chamber doors that, once opened, would seal the fate of the group.

"Prepare yourselves," the Phoenix uttered simply, knowing that this battle had the great risk of killing most if not all of their group. Turning to the Kudon, the Phoenix only nodded before placing their armored hands on the thick stone doors and pushing inward.

[member="Mlow Eman'outther"]

 

[BobertEZ]

[double post, ignore]

 

[Mlow Eman'outther]

Knowing fully well that the flesh was weak, that it would break under stress, that he would prove to be nothing more than another one of endless fodder thrown at the beast, Mlow brought as plenty much as he physically could to keep the distance between him and the beast that they hunted this hallowed day as far from his mortal being as possible. Of course, his Autokrator hung from his back, standard singular thermal detonator, his sidearm at his thigh, but there were new tools that were being brought to the conflict today. The rocket launcher, the exact same that had served him during his bouts with the Rancors that earned the attention of the Sith Lord he now marched alongside, hung from his back with five spare warheads in a metal quiver settling on the right side of his back, flanking just behind his shoulder. He was weighted, that was a damned fact, but he hoped that the near armory's worth of arms that he was bringing to the table would assist in tipping the odds over in his favor. This went past training, this went past proving himself to the Sith Lord, any concepts of grandeur left him as soon as they stepped onto the transport craft. The moment you entered a combat situation, akin to what this would soon devolve into, it was survival first, anything existential and abstract secondary.

In the Kudon's hands, however, sat something entirely new, something that he looked down on as they exited the craft and began to walk along the desecrated landscape. It felt off in his hands, and while the geometry of the new tool was far from much different than his Autokrator, it still was like a new lover to the solider. He tossed it over in his hands, cycling the bolt to assure that new shell was properly loaded into the weapon, giving the magazine a smack, before bringing the stock back to rest firmly on his shoulder as the barrel was brought up, scanning every inch of the land as they made their walk. The KS-01, one of the finest tools available to the Legion, despite it's more archaic means of sending death hurtling to the enemy. Mlow had limited training with slugthrowers, and even less so with slugthrowers, but for the most part, most firearms are applicable in the same sense. Aim. Squeeze. Hope whatever you just made angry on the other end has stopped moving. At least, that was the most that they had taught him during training, most past that was left with the individual on how to deal with it.

As the group would have departed their craft, Mlow was already taking with tasking and rattling off a grocery list of ideas to the members of Lorale's Legion, the act of commanding them seeming to be a second thought to him as he registered their names in the top right of his HUD.

"I want a tight fire pattern, hopefully if we focus fire we can bring this thing down before it has a chance to do much. No heroes here, save yourselves first, you'll all see your next Life Day if I can help it."

Rolling deep inside the Kudon was a feeling he was becoming more and more used to, the dark, the emptiness, there was an absence in this place. It was something that permeated through every brick, every labored breath, every last step along the path to those impossible doors. It was as if this entire location was a wound in reality, something that shouldn't exist but laughs in the face of creation for the simple fact of it being, it was something that Mlow didn't have the knowledge, nor training, to fully grasp or try to wrap his reality around. This was, however, becoming more and more of a commonality in his life, he was becoming used to not knowing exactly what he would be subjected to next, or what feeling would pound deep inside of his soul with every passing moment.

Then came the comment, as he had expected, from one of the Sith's kith and kin, however, instead of getting mad or disgruntled, the Kudon simply smiled.

"How 'bout after this, Yacmoa, we go a couple rounds, if you win, I'll buy you some nice brandy."

The latent viper in the Kudon's voice was there, but more in the tone you would tease a younger brother. He knew that if any of them wanted him dead, he would be dead, besides, maybe he would fight better mad.

As Mlow watched Lorale reach out, placing their hands on the stone door, there was the brief moment where he met the Kudon's gaze. The nod, it echoed across millions of worlds, millions of seconds, it meant something impossible to the Kudon. The Sith was much more than just here to train the man akin to the rest of the fields of acolytes, regardless if the Phoenix knew it, the simple nod meant that they were brothers-in-arms, the Legion, the Empire.

Now is your first trial, dear Mlow. Hold your heart still, let the Light guide your aim.

[member="Lorale Farmar"]

 

[BobertEZ]

Location: Oricon, Tomb of Fire
Objective: Challeng of the Twelve
Allies: Mlow Eman'outther | Vortex Spawn | Firebirds
Enemies: Bringer of the Fire
Theme: (X)

Yacmoa-Eaha'm would not have a chance to reply to the Kudon's words as his master pushed the doors inward.

The built up heat of the flames rushed outward from the chamber in great waves, one that the Phoenix's cadre had to dodge to avoid burning alive. One particularly unlucky Firebird was unable to do so, but thankfully survived thanks to her master-crafted armor and the Phoenix themselves acting as a barrier in front of them. The cape attached to the chestplate of the Phoenix sizzled and turned to ash under the immense heat, prompting its owner to toss it aside with a slight sigh. The haze of the heat eventually cleared and the cadre returned to their positions, looking in on what awaited. A ring of magma and molten rock beast within the tomb, the one they sought out for the challenge, was beyond magnificent to the Phoenix. It was a marvel, one of impeccable detail and creation, a true masterpiece of the Lady of Secrets. And it was theirs to fight, to train against, to defeat.

Knowing the beast would understand the language of the Sith, Lorale was the first to enter the sweltering room, unsheathing the Wolfblade to allow it to drag along the stone surface they stood upon. This drew the attention of the beast that finally looked up to the group that stood in the doorway and the approaching Sith Lord. Uttering a grunt of acknowledgement, the beast uttered a spiteful greeting for upon the many that stood ready to fight, only a few radiated the power it so craved.

"Nu tuti niti j'us tuti an tuti zo tzirji an, its dzis ja'wi," the Phoenix uttered in High Sith, drawing a clear surprise from the beast.

"J'us driuni ri rirzyia. Snaâ Tsis matura tsiyiâ diwidnatsa. Ri wo arsia j'us hatsi dari," it replied, hefting its massive axe in its arms, a clear show of intimidation.

Motioning for their cadre to enter from behind, the Phoenix stopped in the center of the chamber, not ten feet from the massive beast and hefted their own weapon onto their armored shoulders. "Dari ani husa zo an an j'us?" the Sith Lord chuckled with a cock of their head.

The Bringer of Fire stood at its full height and led out a heavy breath, "No."

Then it charged, swinging its weapon down with a fury only a few Sith could match. The Phoenix barely dodged and responded to the attack, sliding to the right and swinging their blade at the legs of the beast. To their utter shock, the blade did little more than scratch the beast's legs, bouncing off of them as if they were protected by a shield. The Phoenix resolved to swing again, believing the first attack to have failed due to dodging as well. Again to their shock, the beast kicked their left leg outwards as if it knew the attack was coming before the Sith Lord had even thought of it. There was little the Sith Lord could do as found themselves flying back with enough power to leave visible cracks in their armor. Flames soon surrounded them as they tumbled completely off the ring that supported the beast and the cadre.

The Vortex Spawn audibly gasped as they saw their master fly backward and down into the magma, unable to prevent the fall even with their combined telekinetic efforts. Yacmoa-Eaha'm and Jargaza-Yshu were the first of the present Spawn to fall into a blind rage and charge the Bringer of Fire, the Arkanian igniting his lightsaber, the blue clashing against the fiery orange, and the mutated Gamorrean twirling his onyx blade. Both of their attacks, a sideways slash and a downward swing, were deflected with ease and both were knocked to the edge of the ring. Jargaza-Yshu was the first up and readied his blade and once more sprinted towards the Bringer of Fire, only to find himself bisected at the waist. His upper half slid along the stone surface and off into the magma where it burned in seconds. The Dark Jedi only cursed in his native language at the sight and stood to fight.

The Wild Man and the Skeleton were the next to enter the fray, the Wild Man leaping into the air and over the beast, grabbing onto its horns and sending rapid fists into the sides of its top head. The beast recoiled slightly with each hit and reached up with its free right hands, one massive and one small, but the Wild Man managed to avoid its grasp by swinging to the side of the Bringer of Fire entirely, sending more hard fists into its top head, leaving visible, albeit small, dents in the metal. The Skeleton merely walked to the Sithspawn, unsheathing its wrist blades, and clawing at the creature's abdomen. If it could express emotions, it would most certainly express confusion at the lack of blood and gouges. All that were left by the blades were light scratches. The Arkanian returned to the battle, letting loose a powerful Force Push and uttering yet another curse upon seeing that the push did nothing to the beast, and resolved to swing at the beasts legs as his master had.

Anastasia Graves, meanwhile, had chosen to remain with the Legionnaires to observe their unity and tactics, as well as act as the guide for when Jargaza-Yshu inevitably returned. "I hope you prove Ba right, Kudon," the First Daughter remarked to the Legionnaire. "It would be unfortunate for you if you failed."

 

[Mlow Eman'outther]

The creature was so much more than the Kudon ever could have properly imagined, it was a beast of physical threat, it was a creature of hate and anguish, but it dwarfed even the mightiest of Dragons in the old lores of Kudo, it was much grander than the creatures that stalked the fields and swept the town guard into the abyss, it was much more than the dreamwalkers that wandered the planes and would lull you into the endless forever. This was a threat of fire and conflagrations in the night, this was a creature that breathed and existed soly for this moment, and all of the moments just the same that it had walked through easily into the endless past, thos uncountable souls, men and women, blade and blaster, years and years of would be Demonslayers throwing themselves into this evernight that the creature offered with a simple swing of it's too grand to exist weapon. The creature stood as a mockery of all that the Kudon thought of the unverse by it's simple means of existence, and when it spoke, when the damnation spoke and responded to the Sith Lord, who was equally as mythical in the eyes of the Kudon, a shudder went through Mlow. It was sentient, it was real, and it existed because of the machinations of the Sith, building upon the ancients of alchemy and Sithspawning techniques, this monster was born, of flesh. There stood Mlow, a scattergun, blaster, and a couple rockets to try to bring this monster down, it was a bit of a funny situation, if he would be honest, his mind played, if just for a moment, how nearly slapstick it would be if the creature reaved it's way through him and the other Legionaries, sending them flaying like the cannon-fodder that they had always been treated as in every last moment of their training and deployment. This would not be that day, however, today they would all become something greater, they would fall the beast, akin to the Knights of Old Kudo, the Feudal lords of the Ancient Galaxy, with their blasters as their swords, their plasteel as their steel, they would march away from this conflict alive.

Watching the Sith Lord raise a blade to take the blow to the beast, moments after dodging the faster-than-reaction swing that the monster opened up with, Mlow fought back a smile that threatened to overtake the entire moment. He sometimes forgot that he fought alongside with Republic-Enders, with World-Shakers, with myth given flesh, it was strange how easy that was to let fade from your mind. He watched, for a brief moment, as the Vortexspawn flung themselves at the towering inferno, watching blade and hate dance across the fire-cracked skin, watching as nothing came of it. No blood, simply wounds being punched into the flesh and skin of the creature, not showing any real form of damage against the fair beast. It stood in defiance to such simple things, blade and blaster, why should it worry about the tools of mortals?

"I hope you prove Ba right, Kudon,"\
"It would be unfortunate for you if you failed."

The Kudon brought his sight over for a moment, his helmet clacking against his helmet as he shifted to look at the woman as she spoke. Searching her face for any form of emotion, any form of reality in her face, something that told him that the comment was out of concern, out of an honesty. She was as unknowable to him as the Jedi were to the Sith. He shook his head, looking back at the creature as he gave a wave to the group of Legionaries he was gathered with.

"Strafe it! We need to keep it overwhelmed, double to the back, drop as much as you can. Danger close, no explosives."

He spoke in a matter of fact, charcoal black tone, already nestling down, bent slightly as if he was rushing over the top of a trench as he began to take off along the right. Keeping the beast at an equal distance from him and the squad as he could as the Legionaries followed behind the Kudon, blasters arching off at the beast wherever they earned the chance to. As they ran, circling the beast akin to the hands on a clock, the Kudon took the bet and brought his scattergun to his shoulder, skirting to a stop as he let the rest of the Legionaries pass him to complete the circle around the beast. His HUD linked his crosshair with the physical sights of the slugthrower, he took air, released, and squeezed the trigger.

The barrel exploded out the pellets, screaming across the impossible expanse between him and the target, the recoil shuddering and bucking through his shoulder as the shell cycled out of the weapon and clanged onto the floor. The pellets slamming into the bloodless creature, rending flesh and tearing as much as they could, but on the demon, they still appeared to be at beast, superficial wounds.

 

[BobertEZ]

Location: Oricon, Tomb of Fire
Objective: Challeng of the Twelve
Allies: Mlow Eman'outther | Vortex Spawn | Firebirds
Enemies: Bringer of the Fire
Theme: (X)

Fire. Fire and flames. Fire and flames and burning. Fire and flames and burning and death. Death. Death and burning. That's all it sees. That's all it wants. Crumpling up in the magma of failure. Dying like a street-side junkie. Wishing for death.

Lorale floated endlessly in the rivers of golden heat, gazing upwards at the battle raging, watching as Jargaza-Yshu fell in with them, burning to the bone. They wanted to float to the surface, to rejoin the fight and defeat the creature, but could not. Something weighed them down, something they had not felt in centuries. Fear. The beast had defeated them in seconds without even the slightest hint of fatigue or damage.

How long has it been? How long has it been? How long has it been?

How long had it been since they tasted defeat? How long had it been since the Sith Lord had tasted such embarrassment? They could not recall as the weight continued to build and the voices continued to scream at them, taunt them, roar at them. It told them the truths they had been refusing for ages and evaporated the lies they had built for themselves. As they suffered, their eyes fell over from the battle above and to the Wolfblade, floating without an owner, beckoning the Phoenix to swim their way over and reclaim their power. Yet, they could not for the weight made them plummet to the bottom of the ring of molten rock and metal. They could only grunt as the heat roasted them and their spirit began to incinerate within the shell.

---

---

---

---

The Legionnaires did their part wonderfully, laying down a great deal of offense on the beast, but even then it was still clear that this monstrous creature could not be defeated by simple offense. It was too quick, too adaptive, and countered most of the attacks the Spawn could lay upon it, as if it possessed some form of precognition in battle.

"What does it take to kill this thing?" Alrekur shouted as he dodged a wild swing from the beast's axe.

"A lot more than us," his dearest wife, Anastasia, mused uncharacteristically as she sliced at the beast's legs with a deft swiftness.

"Where is Ba!?" Yacmoa-Eaha'm questioned as he climbed the back of the Bringer and unleashed a combination of heavy and light slashes, cursing with each one as it did little more than form scratches and the bare minimum of gashes.

"Still in the lava! Being a lazy bastard," Jargaza-Yshu chortled upon his sudden return, fully formed with nary an indication of having been bisected mere minutes prior.

The Spawn, save for the Skeleton, all roared in unison as they joined forces to attack the beast of fire and brimstone, unleashing synced attacks that would have obliterated any other being in the Galaxy. However, each attack was still deflected by sheer endurance, a durability no other creature they had encountered had ever possessed. It was the epitome of devilish creations, one that their uncle Kascalion would take great inspiration from should they live to inform him of it. It was utter terror, destruction, darkness come to life.

The Wild Man thought on this as he sent a hard fist into the abdomen of the beast as it sought to remove the Dark Jedi from its back, swinging wildly and ferociously, incidentally slicing one of the Firebirds at the shoulders and another at the waist. Three Legionnaires under the Kudon's command remained as blood ran across the ring in rivets and rivers. The Bringer had clearly not met a challenge as lengthy as the group fighting it on this day, although that mattered not when even they could not land successful, lasting damage upon it. However, those that faced the Bringer of Fire would not retreat for it had not been ingrained in them. Retreat was not in their vocabulary, literally, and they would combat their encroaching death to the bitter end, even if it tore their hearts to do so. How this battle may have turned out if the full force of the Spawn were present and not gallivanting across the stars with the Devil Lion.

"Kudon!" the Dark Jedi suddenly called out as he dodged a series of swings from the Bringer while the Wild Man leaped over an attempted goring from its horns that the Skeleton met head on, gripping the horns in its hands and, in a moment of unexpected emotion, met the beast's challenging roar with its own otherworldly screech. "Focus on its groin. Drop the blasted thing!"

Will that even work? Ba...we need you. Please...don't tell me you're dead...I'm sorry I failed you.

---

---

---

It is a weak, pathetic fool. Defeated and tossed away like some escort without being paid. The tramp. The outcast. No true friends. Only those it subjugated in fear. It is a weakling. It is a fool. They will die because of it. Because of its new pet.

The Phoenix grunted in response to the voice, rolling over to their stomach and gouging their fingers into the floor so as to crawl towards their power, their destiny. The sword beckoned, its radiation of destiny drawing nearer with each clawing. The Heart was close. It needed its champion. Its conqueror.

How long has it been? How long has it been? How long has it been?

You think you're a hero? A conqueror? You are NOTHING. Nothing but a liar. A cheat. An escapist seeking refuge from the sins of his past. You are nothing. Nameless. Faceless. Formless. Malkor Isiaham. Hust Tial. Sal Nor. Darth Raptious. Sith Lord. None of these are who you are. None of these are your true face.

"I...am...the Phoenix," they grunted inside their own mind as they crawled, enduring the pressure upon their back, eyes glued onto the handle of the sword that drew closer and closer.

Do you truly believe that, you worthless cretin? Do you think-

"I...am...Lorale...Farmar," they grunted again, feeling the pain coursing through them as they sensed their children swatted away like insects. The sword was mere feet away, begging to be wielded again, pleading for its owner to grasp it and use it defeat the fiend above.

You are nothing! You will never be what you claim to be! Defeated in seconds!

"Under...estimated...will adapt...accordingly."

You will-

"Be victorious."

Can you do it? Can you do it? Can you do it?

The handle of the sword felt like home in their hands, armored as they may be. Power and acceptance flowed through their body as they slowly found themselves rising to their feet at the bottom of that primordial fire. The thoughts of a thousand souls rushed through their mind as they began to float to the top of the burning ooze.

If you wish to rise like the Phoenix you claim to be.

Can you do it?

If you want to save them from yourself. From your sins.

No! Stay with me, weakling. Stay with me here. You can stay here. In the fires of the abyssal pit. Live with your sins. With your failures. Let me guide you. The Heart is a liar. It is trickster. A deceiver. Come with me. We will traverse the darkness for him. He awaits you. He wants you. He loves you. He desires you.

The fires parted from their vision as they surfaced above the ooze, the ring within reach, "But I do not desire him. I do not love him. I do not want him. I do not go to him."

Can you do it?

Accept who you are. Accept your true nature. You are Koignalteth. You...

Failure. Coward. Bloody disgrace.

How do you accept it?

Are Lorale Farmar.

How do you accept it?

The Dlukav.

How do you accept it?

The Phoenix.

Accept it.

The ring was stable. The burning ooze had dripped away. The Wolfblade was hungry. The Phoenix was angry. The fight was to continue.

Rise.

[member="Mlow Eman'outther"]

 

[Mlow Eman'outther]

There was a looming darkness around the Kudon, around the battlefield, as the blade of the monstrocity swung back and forth, cleaving as much through flesh and bone as it cleaved through the basic understanding that the Kudon had on reality. The beast had ressisted their onslaught, this creature of Legend was no simple Drake or Dragon that would be fallen by this petty gathering of wyrmslayers, no, this was a proper demon, born of the darkest incantations. The Kudon was slowly realizing that as shell after shell exploded through the barrel of his scattergun, the stock bucking hard, over and over into his shoulder. Every spent round, every last attempt to drop the Hellish creature pooling at the bottom of his feet. He was burning up, his helmet was fogging with fetted breathing and the background heat from the battlefield that they found themselves in. Click, click, empty tube, the Kudon grabbed at his side, freeing shells and starting to feed them into the weapon. One, two, over and over.

As each new buckshot found home, he was forced to watch the creature, who had never minded the Kudon, who had forgotten Mlow as the least threatening of the entire gathering, turn his attention to his allies. That's when it happened, that's when he realized. Where was the Darth? Where was the Sith Lord? His eyes glanced around the room, tearing it apart, shifting stone and piercing through flesh in it's desperation, some sight of the charcoal-plate, some sight of the Rancor Slayer, some sight of the man who had brought him here. Instead, all he was given was the children, disenfranchised at the sudden loss of their father. Attacks becoming more desperate, a general disorganization shuddering through their ranks. He had seen this, when an officer falls or fails to keep his men and women in line. The ranks would break soon, those that ran would never make it from the chamber in time.

Then that blade, that wicked blade, like a Reaper's scythe came cleaving the Kudon's way. Mlow, not saved by reaction time, not saved by anything besides the misstep of the creature, an inch too far. Just enough to dare to scratch and dig at his visor, sending his HUD into a screaming glitch before shutting down fully, leaving the Kudon in the complete dark. Sending Mlow stumbling backwards, the shell he was holding falling to the ground, nearly tumbling over all of his spent rounds. The Legionaries with him, those brave two, who had taken a step forward, raised their blasters, brought down as if they were nothing. Fodder for the nightmare, more faces for the Kudon to see at night, another set of twinned names that will haunt him. More lost comrades in arms.

You've failed, you aren't strong enough, the Dark will drag you under, it will drown you. Falter, Kudon, Son of Light, falter.

Mlow found himself stumbling backwards, the screams of his allies for him to act, the calls of the Legionaries falling to deaf ears. No new commands, no new input, his entire visage blanked, his eyes glazed. The blurred shapes of the Sith and Legionaries fighting the Hellspawn, weapons flashing, sparks flying, there was no proof that any of his attempts had worked, that the creature was truly damaged by his actions. He was never meant to be here, he was never meant to be more than a frontline solider from a distant dynasty. Kudo's finest, Kudo's biggest regret. What would Father have said? What would the histories of his family read when Little Mlow dared to be the hero he had always read of, what would happen when the Knight fell to the Dragon?

Let yourself be taken, let the Night envelope you. Forget your worldly concerns, come join us, in the Dark...

The Eman'outther family, come from years of toiling and punishment, to fall here? To fall at the hands of a beast, something born for no true purpose, not to live, breathe, not to create art or dream, but to slaughter? Why should the Son of Kudo fight? It was lost, and he was bound to fa-

No.

The Moon's Son shall not fall here, you have more than you know. Feel it, Dear Kudon. Not the heat, the hate, the fear and anguish. Feel. Drift.

There were crackles of sound that the Kudon never would have heard, sudden jolts of a mint-green shaded light suddenly queuing at his right side. A gentle glow coming to his eyes that lit the helmet ever so slightly. Nothing he saw, nothing he felt, nothing he knew. He was no longer here, it was a Firstday's morning back at home, at the palace. They were entertaining guests, he was sipping some of the finest Umbaran Coffee while chatting with Counts from long distant holdings. His father was telling a story of a storm, so long ago, that ripped and tore at the countryside. Nearly destroying several buildings. One that had a silver lining, one that opened up a path after sending a tree crashing into a hill, uprooting the countryside to reveal a long forgotten Gem Mine.

A smile crossed the Kudon's face inside his helmet.

This is it, this is Everything, this is the Alpha, and the Omega. Peace. This is Peace. There's no blaster rounds screaming overhead, there's no booming artillery. Just the heartbeat of everything. Reach out Kudon, feel the wind on your fingers, feel the weight. The dampness. A rainstorm is coming, Kudon.

The scattergun fell at the Kudon's side, the slide never being racked, a new round never being loaded, and with sparking hands, shades of green dancing across the knuckles and between the fingers, he reached over and grabbed at the plated glove that sat on his right hand, gently pulling and tugging. Freeing his hand ever so slowly, the fur catching in a breeze that wasn't there, the claws gleaming in the firelight as he slowly held his hand out, to nothing. His fingertips outstretched in the direction of the rampaging beast.

With the rain, always comes a storm.

Without the thought passing through his head, suddenly, with the jolt of a thunder strike, with the recoil of an E-Web, his fingers suddenly sprang fully to life. Live electricity danced between his fingers, against the sides, looping around the palm, shaded as a the brightest, shining emerald in that ancient mine. A moment passed, two, before suddenly, reaching out, still not fully there, these sparks violently manifested as a God of Storms raging at an unruly subject. Green streams suddenly jolting out from his finger tips, loose wires of electric judgement reaching out, clambering for a millisecond through the air before making contact with the creature. Bringing Mlow suddenly back to reality, his breathing quickening, panic, but calm at the same time. Leaning into the arm, feeling his intake of air go higher and higher, the storm intensified, shambling against the entire form of the beast as he felt, more and more, drained. His being being leeched into the effort, before at the last second, breaking the stream, bringing his hand into a fist as smoke and crackling remnant energy shuddered through his grasp, his eyes glancing down at his hand, the creature, and the gathered Sith.

BobertEZ