Skirmish Twilight Duel: Raid on Tython | Lightsworn vs Dark Side Elite

[Darth Bellum]

BELLUM CONTRA OMNES
[ Theme ]

| Location | Desecrated Temple, Tython​

| Purpose | To be determined​

​

The soldiers of the 13th Umbral Legion did as they were instructed, maintaining their distance from the approaching Kornon who had seemed to find their way into their area of operations. While the soldiers were well trained in handling Force users and for the most part knew nothing but battle, they obeyed the singular will of their lord, instead retreating to where their pillaged supplies had been stockpiled.​

​

As Kornon entered the room, Bellum had his back turned to the Jedi, his gaze focused on his soldiers as he raised a finger, making a slow downward stroke with his index. The very fabric of space and reality seemed to contort and rip as a gateway to Otherspace was torn open for the soldiers to begin their extraction. He seemed uninterested by the presence of the Jedi and only gave an indication that he acknowledged them when they announced his name with a slight turn of his head to the side.​

​

" My war...? " A long drawn out pause followed the words that escaped his desecrated maw before continuing, " I am War. " The air seemed to grow cold and stale as the large, hooded figure began to turn his body to face the Jedi before him fully. A frigid cloud formed from where Bellum's jaw would have been as if letting out an exhale, a rasp as he spoke, " And for every conflict you have faced... with your enemies as well as yourself, you have tithed unto me. "​

​

Bellum's figure was still as stone, the only gesture he made raising his hand off to the side as if to welcome the Jedi, coaxing him to come at him as if to offer a free strike. His words echoed, a myriad of voices speaking together as one " Speak your name, and hone your edge against me. For I am the mountain upon which all blades shatter. "​

Kornon
​

 

[Stennis Fel]

P E N I T E N T
THE LIGHTSWORN
Battle Armor | Eta-11x Interceptor | Lightsaber
LS | Tydeus of Tion
SE | Vorm

RIFF DEALER​

Though he might've nestled himself safely into the freighter, the crash was no less violent or traumatic for the Imperial Knight. A few harsh notes of pain escaped him as he thrown and battered around the cargo bay of the freighter, the impact throwing him from the vehicle with an explosive toss. His body was steaming with remnant flame as faint plumes of smoke emerged from his form as a result from the slow, escalating rain that trickled over them. Slowly, he made his way to his feet, pulling the broken mask from his face to reveal his bloodied gaze, dripping with red ichor and open scars as he slowly turned toward the rustling of metallic and muscle.

Stennis furrowed his brow, a dim contempt ever present in his vision as he watched the Sith emerge from the wreckage, haphazardly shirking steel from his monstrous form before presenting himself opposite of the knight again, ready to delve right back into the ever personal and visceral realm of ultraviolence with Fel. He clicked his saber alight again, the faint hiss of the argent blade accompanying its return to life. This scion of darkness had all the outward appearance of a teeth gnashing brute, but Stennis knew far better than to doubt the fighting instinct of him.

Regardless, the two were alone, blades in hand in this forest clearing, the same grounds to which his father fell. He would not bare the same fate. Not here. Not now. With silent determination, he surged forward, his blade delving to meet his crimson in a dervish of argent and red. He initiated with both hands tightly clasping the hilt, his strikes and cuts methodical and meticulous before he eased back, taking a hand off to deliver a concussive force blast toward the man's head to concuss him and break his focus before surging back into the fray.

 

[Kree]

The Dark Jedi's footwork perfectly mirrored that of the Jedi Knight's as Kree pushed hard after Bernard.

"Empty courage turns to hubris," Bernard replied. "I know neither."

The first thrust went wide, easily parried by the Jedi Knight. Kree's second attack completely missed the mark as Bernard pivoted out of its path and stepped out of range of the last strike. Failing to sense the Jedi's intentions, the dark sider could do nothing but watch as his opponent knocked his guard aside and swept in low with a well-placed counter.

"Night may fall." Bernard answered his foe's challenge with little emotion. His blade flashed out in a horizontal arc aimed at Kree's hip.

In a quick bid to recover, the Dark Jedi replicated the arkanian's earlier retreat with a swift pirouette that saw the umbaran narrowly escape the arcing cleave. Not waiting even a single second, Kree descended the hill across from Bernard, each and every movement an uncanny imitation of the Jedi.

"Marvelous," Kree muttered. Excitement brimmed within his body. It threatened to shatter his bones and rend his skin if not placated, so placate it the umbaran would.

Bernard said something then, but Kree couldn't hear it past the sound of his heart beat thundering in his skull. Heat radiated from his body like a roaring bonfire.

"I've heard tales told of your makashi, Bernard of Arca. I had hoped above all else your sword would not disappoint me." Kree's lips pulled back into an unseen smile. "You speak so assuredly, I can feel it in every syllable. You want this fight as much as I do. It's why you're here. It's why we're here."

Kree inched closer, the tip of his lightsaber hovering inches from Bernard's leading blade. Kree shifted so he held the hilt of his saber aloft, parallel with his head, and aimed directly for Bernard's good eye. Within the shadow of perspective, the umbaran telekinetically grasped the tiny knob which controlled the blade's length and turned it to its utmost–the saber grew another four centimeters.

There was a long stretch of nothing for several heartbeats before Kree lashed out in a wide-sweeping flourish meant to catch Bernard at the neck. This time, the Dark Jedi committed in full, hoping the difference in his saber's length would make the difference.

Opposition: Bernard

 

[Brutalis]

Allies: None
Targeting: Kornon Darth Bellum
Objective: Orbalisk Blood Rage
​

I have karking waited long enough! If I wait any longer im going to LOSE IT!

The ripe mix of chemicals and adrenalines was forcefully pumped through his body. It forced his movements forward and dictated the direction of his rage. A volcanic stream of dark fury that risked potential harm to everyone adjacent to him. The normal colorful view of the world slipped into a veil of deep red. His breathing increased rapidly. He was drunk off the hormones and chemicals flowing through his veins and whipped into a frenzy.
​

I cant..I wont....​

The massive Mantellian Savrip gritted his teeth and broke into reckless charge. A unbelievely large Lightclub was summoned into his hands and igited a crimson blade that extended roughly three meters in length! With a force assisted roar and a impressive leap, Brutalis launched his colossal form into the air and poised his blade and very body to descend apon his nearest ally, enemy and eventual victims to his Orbalisk blood fever.

Above the Barabel Jedi Master Kornon and The Lord of Eternal Conflict Darth Bellum , A shadow was cast and got increasingly larger in size!
​

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

Atop the Hill
Engaging: Onrai | Teket


“And how would you help me understand?” sneered the youth.

Anti-force, Bogan, Dark Side. Chains of philosophy and theology bound these beings, unable to see past their supposed construction of the universe.

Tydeus seized these chains. Shattered them. He would not be bound by dead traditions, or religious trappings. If they were necessary, he would use them. But they were no more than mere tools, like the lightsaber in his hand. He deactivated it and it shriveled to nothing.

“What are you?” His eyes narrowed.

In the sight of the Force, he perceived this being as an entity of deepest shadow, tendrils of night flickering like fire from her form. His gaze focused on the unnatural umbra sword the being before him had pulled from itself. The boy circled his foe, analyzing, evaluating.

Around them, the blades of the others crashed and spat and sizzled.

Suddenly, the roar of a ship’s engines drowned out all else as a craft lurched up from the trees, only to suddenly stutter and fall, spinning wildly before colliding in the distance in a spray of debris and exploding parts. The muscles in Tydeus’ jaw knotted as he grit his teeth.

Stennis.

 

[Teket]

Teket jumped and tumbled over when he heard the thoughts in his head. Where was that coming from?

Oh, it was from a shadowy figure. One of the Dark Ones had finally chosen to acknowledge and speak to him! He was not entirely sure what the words meant. What was Night Magic? Was that what made them more powerful? He supposed it did make sense, in a way. Woklings were often told about the scary beasts that came out at night, so that they would stay in and go to sleep. Teket himself had never been afraid and had been severely disappointed when he learned that most of it had been lies to keep the children behaving.

Teket did, however, understand one particular thing from the shadowy being. At least, sort of. The creature was asking for help. But how could a little Ewok help a Dark One? He pondered as he looked around. He spied a couple of ornate spearheads -- no, daggers -- resting on a pedestal. Hmm... Perhaps he could be a distraction!

He focused his magic, making his body feel rubbery. He jumped into the wall and pushed out with his magic, boosting his bounce to send him flying into the air. Nearing the crest of his arc, he Pulled the daggers to him, catching one in his paws, and sending the other shooting at the odd man squaring off against his new shadowy friend. As the dagger lunched at the enemy, Teket himself attempted to land on the man's head. If successful, he would proceed to bop the man repeatedly with the pommel of the dagger while screaming "Get distracted, loser!" in Ewokese.

Fren: Onrai
Not Fren: Tydeus of Tion
TAGS: OPEN​

 

[Onrai]

"I am not a being who limits themselves to an understanding of the Force." She said in response to his initial inquiry. Yes, there was no questioning it now - the wound in the Force had yet allowed his potential to be present, the suggestion that perhaps he would one day channel the power he yet possessed, consuming Force energy with the power she knew and becoming all the greater a threat. Someone like this needed to be guided. Instructed. Trained.

"The light and dark may yet be of the Force, but there exists another power, one I feel within you. Not light. Not dark. Reactive, destructive, something that seeps through the energy field of the galaxy from places yet unvisited. Sights yet unheard and sounds yet unseen. Cease this foolish attack on a temple that will yet be reformed regardless of your comrades' actions - and I will teach you of this power, and of the truths many would remain ignorant of - willfully or unknowingly." The offer had yet been made - it was not aggressive or combative, merely a suggestion that she could yet teach a student of the hidden ways and forbidden knowledge.

"As for what I am... Many things to many people. Some view me as a beneficent deity. Others a malignant demon. The Trandoshans call me the Scorekeeper. Some on Coruscant would call me Via or the Goddess. Others might know me under other names. But I am Onrai. And if you accept my offer of knowledge and wisdom, then you may yet learn more than that."

Of course, then the Ewok decided to be more direct a participant in their discussion. Onrai focused and sought to snare both the daggers and the flying Ewok who hurled himself through the air, attempting to strike the Force Wound with his dagger's pommel. "Calm yourself, wokling! He is not the Griagh, or Moragorom, or one of the Wizards of the Night Spirit. Focus instead on this." She raised a hand and within it was a stone the Ewok would likely find to be particularly familiar, something recovered decades ago from the surface of Endor and reintegrated courtesy of unfamiliar magics. "What your kind know as the Dark Rituals are crude compared to what can be known from my hand."

Teket Tydeus of Tion

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

Tydeus snapped his hand in a dismissive motion.

Telekinetic energy rippled outward, smacking aside the dagger - and likely the Ewok - and sending it hurtling backward like so much chaff in the breeze. So fast that it was almost reflexive. He was beyond these youngling parlor tricks now.

The boy’s lip twitched in annoyance. He was not here to play games with infantile bears. In the distance, the fires of the downed shuttle flickered. Anger flared in his chest. Every second he wasted here was a moment the others could be dying.

If the Ewok came at him again, he would end it.

His attention riveted back to the being who called herself Onrai. He could feel her power in the Force, radiating lIke a dark star.

“A goddess,” his brows knit together. Slowly, he transferred his lightsaber to his left hand, reached back, fingers steadying the scabbard on his back as with his right he drew forth that blade with a wet shlick of raw meat. A mass of undulating organic matter pulsed along the length of the unsheathed sword’s strange metal, a web of sinew and veins. Tydeus regarded the sword in his right hand with sick fascination.

“The Rakata thought themselves gods - in the reaches of the Firefist. They say this is the blade that put them down.”

Gloved fingers tightened upon the hilt.

”If you are unbound. If you are the Scorekeeper. Prove it. Strike down Sinestra. I’ll convince the others to leave you to your temple. And then I will seek your training. But if you can’t…”

Gray eyes like edged steel flashed in the darkness.

”Then I guess we will see if this blade really can kill gods.”

Teket | Onrai

 

[Teket]

Before Teket could even land his attack, he was suddenly caught in the air. What the...? "Let me down!" He screamed and cursed, flailing and slashing at the air with the one dagger he still managed to hold onto.

During his tirade, the shadowy figure began to speak. At first, he couldn't understand the words, but then something clicked in his brain. Her words began to take form within his mind, and he could understand her as if she were speaking Ewokese. Teket calmed down and folded his arms, still hanging upside-down in the air. "I was trying to help." Perhaps he had been wrong in thinking she had asked for help. At least now he could understand her. "And I'm not a wokling," he pouted. "I'm already twelve years old!"

Teket still could not understand the weird man he'd tried to distract. The one who had just pulled out some kind of ugly, smelly sword. Teket looked at the Dark One and extended his hand toward the man in exasperation, as if to say, "See?"

"He obviously wants to attack you. Why aren't you fighting?" Teket asked her. he Pulled the second dagger that had clattered to the ground to him. One of these daggers really would make a nice spearhead...

"Can you put me down now?"

Onrai
Tydeus of Tion ​

 

[Onrai]

"Your help is appreciated - but be patient. Sometimes there are better answers than pointless conflict whose purpose is unachievable." She said to the Ewok before letting him down, turning back to Tydeus. "The Rakata? Slain by a simple blade? Do not be so foolish." Reaching once more within her essence courtesy of a free hand, she brought forth a small transparisteel vial, within which a plasmotic gray ooze wriggled feverishly and helplessly in an attempt to yet get free. She tossed the vial to Tydeus, hoping that he would in fact catch it. "The last of the Rakatan Over-Predors were consumed by this, and it spread throughout their empire. Rebellions demolished the remnants, yet it would in time decay, for it is an eternal cancer within the universe, a blasphemy to all life. This is what ended their kind." How fortunate she was that Darth Immortuos had been led away from the temple, lest he have unwittingly brought forth a similar outbreak.

The appeal was yet made from Tydeus - a proffering, a suggestion that if she struck down Sinestra , that perhaps the youth would apprentice himself to her and learn from her. She pondered for a moment, but quickly abandoned such an idea. "I gain nothing by striking her down. She has been enlightened - as will you be." A free hand was raised as the being sought to implant within Tydeus' mind a vision, a fragment of the journey she and the once-Halsia Myr had taken. A pathway through a hellish gateway. A world of perverse pains and pleasures that twisted the body and soul. The half-serpentine lich-form that proclaimed itself ruler of the domain, a being so ancient as to have led a people into damnation to dark gods. The squalid motions of the magniformous Rozzum, ever-shifting, ever-changing. "There is a greater evil out there than you would yet imagine. Servants of the Necromantic Ones yet seek even now to claim more dominion over the galaxy. Come, learn from my teachings, and we may yet be able to end their threat - for a time, at least."

She was admittedly surprised, though the Sunstar-Shadowstone was yet still within reach, still hopefully having taken the Ewok's attention.

Teket Tydeus of Tion

 

[Kornon]

Darth Bellum Brutalis
​

As though at Bellum's beckoning, another Sith arrived, the massive creature crashing through the ruined Temple ceiling. Rubble and debris sprayed across the ground, but with a single wave of his hand the stones were deflected away from him. Kornon's blade ignited, bright blue mirrored by the Savrip's red. Suddenly finding himself the smallest lizard in the room, he raised his saber to a low guard.

"This one is called Kornon. This one leaves no darkness unscathed. This one brings Light!" The earth shook, the stones rising at his will, from tiny fragments to rocks as large as him. Then he sent a barrage crashing towards the two Sith, before rushing towards Bellum, saber spinning into two quick strikes.

 

[Vorm]

Raid on Tython

Writing with: Stennis Fel
​

---

The waking rain washed the blood from their faces as the two warriors’ eyes met, the fires of the crash-landing quietly simmering down in the background. Exuding a sense of profound purpose, the argent warrior grasped the hilt of his lightsaber with two hands and began his driven assault without a word. The Vorm respected that.

The old brute backpedaled as he himself mirrored his opponent by reinforcing his grip around the black hilt of his crossguard-saber, holding it with two hands. Always relying on his physical strength, he kept the saber low and center. Forced to be defensive, Vorm began blocking the thrusts and cuts of his opponent, which spoke of a tremendous amount of training, by moving his upright saber along a horizontal line, swapping stances and shifting directions as the complex offensive of this argent warrior demanded. Retreating slowly, Vorm loomed over this mysterious demon of the night, focusing on putting power into the parries - but it siphoned too much of his attention. In a clever twist of tactics his opponent concussed him telekinetically, air violently pushed through his nose and mouth and into his lungs, dizzying him. While coughing, he suffers his first injuries. His mutated skin blisters and cauterizes along a few slashes of his opponents lightsaber, only the genetic experiments forced on him in his youth preventing his sudden death and the outright amputation of his limbs. The argent blade slides across his stone-like skin, the Vorm's body appearing resistant to the lightsaber - but it is not so. This hidden ability of his might soak a few of these extreme traumas, but no more.

In retort, he attempts to concentrate on the argent warrior’s lower body with sweeping strikes and kicks aimed at his feet; yet it is all a ruse. Should the opportunity present itself, the Vorm would exploit the advantage of his reach by physically grabbing the face of his opponent to violently steal into his brain.
​

---

Bernard Tydeus of Tion Brutalis Sinestra Onrai Kree Nova Dainlei Teket Darth Bellum Kornon ​

 

[Stennis Fel]

P E N I T E N T
THE LIGHTSWORN
Battle Armor | Eta-11x Interceptor | Lightsaber
LS | Tydeus of Tion
SE | Vorm

NOT UNLIKE THE WAVES​

The Knight continued to burrow into his means of slicing up the Sith Acolyte before him, as methodical and brutal as the means had to be. Each slice and cut measured but lethal, the flesh of the brute before him splaying with a show of the cauterized mortal meat before him. He continued that violent assault, grasping the hilt in both hands for greater control and flow over the combat before the siphon of dark power grasped at his mind. His vision flashed and lapsed before him as torturous memories sourced to the forefront.

Some his own...some shared. Vorm would snatch ahold of those memories in violent consciousness but they would be partially Stennis, relating to the brutal, regimented upbringing of the Imperial heir...and some, of another. In a place, not far from this one, so close that it felt like he might see the path in steps that it took to travel there. He'd find the blind visage of a Sith Lord before him before he was felled by an argent blade, a climb of struggle before he saw the eyes of his master staring back at him. Darth Solipsis and the final moment of hatred before those argent eyes to which Vorm could glimpse through for a moment were shut forever, in the same moment that Stennis regained control, a fierce, jagged lance of argent lightning coursing from his palm toward the man's face before it ruptured against the crimson blade, a burst of energy pulling them apart as Stennis snuffed his blade and rolled away before regaining his footing, trails of blood emerging from his eyelids, nose and lips from the torrent.

He then, in a seeming turn of intent, willed his hand up before he moved to grasp ahold of Vorm's apeish form to surge him toward the Knight. He then abruptly released his grasp, surging into a violent assault only to peel away again, channeling the form of the Vornskr, hoping to goad the Sith into unleashing his anger once more only to channel it back to him in an ever consuming ouroboros.

 

[Darth Bellum]

BELLUM CONTRA OMNES
[ Theme ]

| Location | Desecrated Temple, Tython​

| Purpose | To be determined​

​

Bellum simply shifted backward, clearing the incoming crash zone that the newcomer Brutalis was creating as debris along with the rage drunk Sith rained from up high. How bothersome to be interrupted when he looked forward to picking apart his opponent. As Kornon used the Force to launch rubble at him, Bellum simply raised his open skeletal hand up, his own influence reaching out to freeze everything that flew within five meters of him in total stasis.​

​

As Kornon charged to strike, Bellum's outstretched hand would close into a fist, the debris that sat frozen soon spiraling into a maelstrom that surrounded Bellum like a storm, threatening both friend and foe that approached with being assaulted from the side by large chunks of rock with torrential force.​

Kornon | Brutalis
​

 

[Vorm]

Raid on Tython

Writing with: Stennis Fel
​

---

A low, sinister laughter sounded from the throat of the Vorm. He found something he didn’t know he needed, but was running out of time. He still had to salvage at minimum the most important element of the cargo: the Holocron of Belia Darzu, still calling out to him from somewhere within the scattered remains of the space vessel. The lightning conjured by the argent warrior he now knew was Stennis Fel, heir to the Empire of Old, discharged the two combatants. With the mind connection violently severed, Vorm took a few steps back, attempting to register all the memories he had copied into his own mind, but this man’s assault was relentless. He barely had time to parry the first, second and third strikes that came in in the span of barely more than a second.

Pulled by the man’s control over the Force, but pushed back by his unyielding aggression, Vorm was utterly dominated in this close-quarters clash. Inch by inch Stennis Fel broke through his defence, like a beast driven mad by the scent of blood - and he was right to do so. Fueled by a growing hatred for his lack of sufficient skill with the lightsaber, Vorm’s mind began to sway. Their sabers sizzled to the beat of each raindrop, red-white flashes of light bounding off his opponent’s battle-scarred armor with every block and parry. Having once again rolled to the side and away from the night-demon, Vorm spun around his own axis to swat away his opponent’s upcoming lightsaber blow, but the brute’s long, winding strikes were too slow for as regimented a warrior as this Fel was. At the climax of his ebbing and flowing fighting style, Stennis slid in and carved up Vorm’s back from hip to shoulder. Consumed by this unbearable pain Vorm drops his saber, stumbles forward and falls to one knee.

Still screaming, the black streak across his back still smoking, he instinctively channels his hatred into an attempt to buy himself time: instead of focusing on choking his opponent, he wraps the strands of his mind around one of the ankles of his opponent to telekinetically flip him upside-down and push him away with the Force. However much Vorm is able to destabilize his opponent, by ripping vitality from the Force he leaps over the somewhat intact fuselage to find a place to administer his last remaining bacta shot. The sensation of something dark flashes across his mind, something hiding, something waiting for him close by.
​

---

Bernard Tydeus of Tion Brutalis Sinestra Onrai Kree Nova Dainlei Teket Darth Bellum Kornon ​

 

[Stennis Fel]

P E N I T E N T
THE LIGHTSWORN
Battle Armor | Eta-11x Interceptor | Lightsaber
LS | Tydeus of Tion
SE | Vorm

ISRAELS SON​

Stennis held no remorse, no quarter in his blows, his methodical cuts and strikes. Lightsworn he may be, he was no Jedi. He was still a Knight of the Empire in most any way. Save for the throne to which he could bend his knee. The Knights were Jedi in many ways, but they had lacked the restraint, the calcification of their ego and emotions. No, in many ways his mind was as raw and burning as the Sith before him. But there was a key, integral difference in how they fought. The Sith would channel their anger in a way uncontrollable, unfettered by their own cognition. The Imperial Knights were much more methodical in nature and could subdue that beast that arised in the throes of battle and use it against the Sith before him.

Strike after strike lashed horrid, cauterized wounds of burned flesh pitting into the man's hulking form. Still, the Sith persisted. It would take far more than the argent blade willed by his hand to slay this monstrosity. But eventually, his assault paid dividends, the Sith dropping his blade with a clatter of the hilt against the ground. Stennis was quick to snatch it from the earth, igniting it with a blaze of crimson paired with argent, the Sith vaulting away to press some distance between them as the Knight seemed determine to continue the assault, to press the death knell.

But still, empowered with darkness, he was able to bend the force to his will, sending Stennis up, upside down and eventually clattering back down with a few guttural notes of pain before he recovered his footing and through gritted teeth, two sabers alight, he surged to execute.