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Fog of War

- - - - - The First Order Knights of Ren

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#1
Progflaw99

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All action takes place, so to speak, in a kind of twilight,

which like a fog or moonlight, often tends to make

things seem grotesque and larger than they really are.

 

~ Carl von Clausewitz
 

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It wasn't often Castor revisited the battlefield after the fact, such tasks were usually left for the disciples or the military machine of the First Order - whether its illustrious Stormtrooper Corps or its bastard brother, the Auxiliary. Something had tugged at the Knight of Ren however, a sudden absence of a presence he had grown used to feeling at the edge of his mind. Castor couldn't shake the feeling and so instead he joined the festivities. Their mission had been completed, Jedi resistance carved out of sewers they hid in like the rats they were. *They were exterminated.* The thought brought no joy to the Knight, but a weary resignation that their task had been carried out, their mission brought to completion.

 

A heavy grunt exited the Ren's lips as he hoisted the carcass of some robed body up onto his shoulder, blood seeping into his own dark garments. The twitch of a sneer formed as he stepped forward and then pushed, the body heaving up off the man's shoulder - and onto the sharpened wooden stake. *Let this be a lesson to the Jedi, those defiant vermin who stayed our grasp for so long. No longer.* A wet sound filled the Ren's ears as the lifeless body settled lower on the stake, crimson glistening on the exposed wood. How many had he hoisted today? He couldn't recall, the battlefield had been strewn with bodies, debris, scattered cloth, dirt, and pooling blood.

 

Castor raised his eyes to the field of battle once more, his eyes gazing past the hundreds of stakes erected across the upturned earth. Each stake, another broken body adorned upon its point - each one a message of resounding clarity. *If you disregard the will of Sieger, you will pay the price.* For a moment his attention was drawn, the glimmer of something reflecting the waning rays of the sun. It could have been a piece of metal, a belt buckle, or even the glint of shattered glass but something didn't feel right to Castor. *Is that...*

 

In an instant the Knight's feet carried him across the broken ground towards the shimmer, a crumpled figure visible, the bright shimmer emanating from an object clasped in its hand. Recognition etched its mark across the Knight's drawn features, the breath sucked from his lungs. Silently he rushed to a knee, hands reaching for the cowl cast across the victim's face, dark robes suggesting something sinister - and then his fear was confirmed.

 

A cataclysmic force threatened to overwhelm the Knight of Ren as he knelt there next to the shattered body. He didn't believe it, eyes searching for an alternative. As if wiping the sleep from his eyes Castor rubbed his clenched fists against his eyelids. It was to no avail, for the face which his eyes gazed upon was none other than that of Sieger Ren. The Supreme Leader... was dead. *No one else can know.* A hasty movement saw the cowl replaced, silver hilt of the lightsaber quickly concealed beneath Castor's robes as he reached down and hoisted the husk that had been Sieger. He felt weak, his steps feeble as he tried to gain a sense of what brothers and sisters were nearest to him - had they seen? Did they know? *The Masters.* They would know how to proceed, how to handle this development. As his footsteps carried him from the battlefield, Castor made a silent plea... If ever they needed the guidance of Sieger's most senior, it was now.

 

Kyrel Ren | Marriskcal Lati | Doran Ren | Seto Du Couteau | Eighth Guard | Decima Fortan
The Order of Ren | The First Order

 


Edited by Castor Ren, 23 July 2018 - 10:04 PM.


#2
Natasi Fortan

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Decima knew a little about being dead. 

 

For years, she had languished in the custody of the reptilian slavers known as the Ssi-Ruuk. For years, she had been forced to aid them in their grisly ends. She lost count of the number of people she had helped to entech. She felt something like -- not guilt, exactly, but remorse. She had done what she needed to do to survive; the ordeal tortured her to this day, and she struggled to block the memories in unguarded moments. This wasn't an unguarded moment, exactly. She was working with her fellow Ren to handle the remains of the Jedi slaughtered in the battle at Lothal. Any survivors, or pilgrims -- why did people always do pilgrimages back to places like this? -- would get a message.

 

You do not oppose the First Order and live to tell the tale

 

She glanced to her left, distracted by a grunting noise. By chance, she had ended up next in sequence to Castor Ren. He was an odd one. All the gifts of the Force to call upon, and he was still hauling the bodies onto his shoulders and impaling them manually. She effortlessly lifted the body of a Zabrak Jedi and dropped it on the spike she had erected moments before, and turned to step forward but stopped when she felt a ripple of shock in the Force. Her interest piqued, the Disciple turned in time to see Castor kneel on the mucky battlefield. "What the devil?" she whispered. He was some thirty paces away, so she couldn't quite see what had distressed him. 

 

Decima took a tentative half-step towards Castor, then continued towards him as he hefted a body onto his shoulder. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but then she frowned. He wasn't putting this one on a spike. Was it a friendly? Were they still alive? She moved across the battlefield towards Castor. "Brother," she called when she got to within fifteen paces. "What's going on?" She raised her hand to shield her eyes. What was he carrying?


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#3
Marriskcal Lati

Marriskcal Lati

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Praetorian Initiate
Equipment | Vibroaxe, Vibrodaggers, Throwing Knives, Training Lightsaber

Location | Forest of Stakes, Lothal

Allies | Eighth Guard, Castor Ren, Decima Fortan, Kyrel Ren, Seto Du Couteau, Doran Ren, Primat Ren, Order of Ren

Status | Alarmed and worried
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While her brothers and sisters placed the finishing touches to their macabre decorations, the young initiate herself was hard at work at her own self-imposed task of providing them with a continuous supply of sharpened stakes. Her own physical strength was limited and not much help at all when most of the bodies were heavier than she was. And after attempting to lift a few bodies, her force abilities were also depleted and left her swaying on her feet and seeing stars. But as Marriskcal was not one who allowed herself to be idle when her brethren were working diligently, she came back equipped with a vibroaxe and a renewed determination to turn the forest of trees into a forest of stakes.

 

Perhaps she would have felt a touch of sympathy for the dead whose bodies were being desecrated in such a manner. But these corpses belonged to the much despised Jedi, and Marriskcal has no compassion for heretics and vermin both.  She paused in her task, switching off the generator of her tool before leaning its head against the ground lightly. As she plucked bits and pieces of wood chips out of her hair, she took in the sight of the former battlefield and let out a soft huff. Despite all the work they have done, there were still so many left. Sending the right message is hard.

 

The emotions that were swirling around the vicinity were a comfortable monotone, with most of her brothers and sisters feeling weary or subdued to her senses. Which made the sudden sharp note of incredulity that pierced through the veil all the more alarming to the youngling. With the unerring instinct of a force sensitive, her steel blue eyes focused on the figure of Rakghoul 1. There did not seem to be any hostiles nearby, else the rest of her brethren would already be on the defensive. And though she had only worked with Rakghoul 1 for one operation, Marriskcal knew that this particular brother of hers was not an individual whose emotions were easily shaken.

 

What happened over there?

 

Concern for Rakghoul 1 made Marriskcal abandon her task, letting the axe fall upon the small pile of finished stakes as she made her way closer to where the other two were.


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#4
Varas

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Varas was not one to interfere, not at least where the Knights of Ren were concerned. She’d always remained a dutiful disciple and a productive knight, doing her job and wiping her hands clean as she did today. With a dry cloth ripped from an errant cowl on the battlefield, she rubbed mud off of her arms and wrung the fabric in her hands, eliminating any blood or sweat. As Varas finally began to polish up her cybernetic hand, the black metal gleaming in the twilight, an ever-present warning from her father to not stray too far from the path, she watched Castor and Marr, along with a woman she did not know. Bodies were impaled, a grisly site for any disciple, but she’d witnessed enough carnage that she barely blinked.
 
Hunger and fatigue surged through her, the after effects of the conflict. She fell to her knees, swatting away flies and then settled into a Lotus position to channel a sliver of the Force, but she could not take her gaze off of the Castor. Something was wrong. The youngest disciple approached the other two with the curiosity that only a girl could wield with such abandon.
 
“Poor Marr,” she whispered to herself. While one could argue that Varas herself was a mere child, stunted by her own growth as a clone, she still had her mother’s memories in her head, the pre-teen Tmoxin peering over the edge of a cosmetic indoor waterfall in Fountain Palace with fascination and wonder. Koi fish calmly swam, their rhythm and color, soothing to the eye. Shouldn’t the blonde girl be throwing coins in a fountain, a wish on her tongue, rather than staking bodies onto wooden spikes?
 
“What’s going on over there?” she loudly yelled across the battlefield, likely breaking any reverent spell that any of them were under. Yet Varas did not rise. The respite on the ground felt well deserved at the moment.
 
Castor Ren | Kyrel Ren | Marriskcal Lati | Doran Ren | Seto Du Couteau | Eighth Guard | Decima Fortan

Edited by Varas Ren, 24 July 2018 - 06:15 AM.


#5
Progflaw99

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*Too slow..* It felt to the Knight as if his world was slowly closing in, threatening to consume the Knight, the Order... existence itself. First he'd heard the voice of Decima - a Knight he'd hardly had the privileged of working with, the Ssi-Ruuk abducting her while he was just a Disciple. *Could she keep a secret? Would she?* The unknown had come upon the Knight so rapidly it took him a moment to voice a reply, to put words together.

 

"One of ours." he replied gruffly.

 

As she approached closer he turned to keep the victim's features concealed. Though the cowl was obscuring Sieger's face, it wouldn't take much once she was within whispering distance to recognize the familiar shoulders, the form beneath the garments he wore.

 

"Come closer." said Castor in a low voice, his head nodding.

 

His intent was shrouded, whether to reveal some deep secret or to merely take solace in the presence of a fellow member of their order indiscernible. Taking the opportunity of their close proximity Castor's free hand moved quickly, fingers grasping the hilt of a dagger hidden beneath the folds of his cloak. Stepping sideways as to conceal its presence from any other observers he pressed the tip of the dagger against Decima's side. Even as he did so he heard another voice rise above the battlefield. Eyes darted momentarily towards another of their kin, daughter of Kyrel Ren - Varas. Pressing the tip of the dagger a cinch more firmly against the Ren beside him he spoke again in hushed tones.

 

"Keep your voice low. Follow me, and do not let them get close. I will explain."

 

Decima Fortan | Marriskcal Lati | Varas Ren | Kyrel Ren
Doran Ren | Seto Du Couteau | Eighth Guard


Edited by Castor Ren, 24 July 2018 - 11:56 AM.


#6
Natasi Fortan

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Decima's blood went cold at the way Castor Ren was behaving. One of ours wasn't as descriptive as it could have been, but clearly he had his reasons. She came closer -- close enough to see the body but not the face. There was something familiar about his garments, but she couldn't quite place it. When she had come within arm's reach, she felt a slight pressure against her side. As clouded as his intent was in the Force, Decima was not able to read him, but it would have taken minimal effort for him to press the blade through her light armor and into her flesh and organs beneath. The fact that he didn't compelled her to accede to his instructions. 

 

"As you command, Brother," said Decima darkly. She matched her pace to Castor's. "How do we stop them following?"

 

She cast her gaze briefly over her shoulder at Varas Ren. She had not risen to her feet, but her attention and curiosity were piqued if her call was anything to go by. She tried to put a reassured essence into the Force, but it was difficult to project it when she didn't feel it herself. Decima itched to push the shroud back from the body's face, to glimpse what was obviously troubling Castor, but she suspected that would have earned her a good hard stabbing, so she controlled herself for the moment. 

 

"Where are we going?" she hissed, peering in the direction they were traveling. 

 

Marriskcal Lati | Varas Ren | Kyrel Ren | Doran Ren

Seto Du Couteau | Eighth Guard | Castor Ren


Edited by Decima Fortan, 24 July 2018 - 12:29 PM.

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#7
Progflaw99

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With a quiet grunt of satisfaction Castor kept his pace a tick above walking speed.

 

"I don't know. That's your problem, not mine." he sneered.

 

Ahead Castor spotted the large hull of a partially destroyed personnel carrier, the driver's compartment completely slagged. The rear however looked in tact. Avoiding a misstep, the Knight stepped over several fallen bodies, weaved between several shattered husks, intent on reaching the rear of the APC. There they could have a quiet discussion, and if everything went well, hide the evidence. *Evidence of what?* the thought burned in his mind. That the Supreme Leader was perhaps not as immortal as he led on? That somehow Sieger had died? The implications of such an occurence were overwhelming, not only for the Order of Ren but for the First Order as an empire.

 

"We make for that personnel carrier. As for the others, they cannot see what I am about to show you."

 

It had taken longer than he had hoped, the weight of the lifeless body after his work with the stakes only added to his fatigue. Coupled with the uneven terrain and the metaphorical weight on his shoulders, it was a wonder he was still standing. Why he felt compelled to trust his sister Decima with the details of his discovery and none of the others, he couldn't say. Perhaps a subtle nudging of the Force, intuition gained over years of service, or perhaps it had more to do with her precarious own experiences at the hands of the Ssi-Ruuk. They found the rear gate opened, the inside veiled in shadow - it would have to do. Reluctantly, Castor removed the press of the dagger against her side, replacing it within the folds of his cloak.

 

"Here. Steel yourself."

 

With a wearied sigh he set the body down, far more gently than one might given the object was little more than a husk. *A husk of our leader.* Reaching down almost shakily, Castor brushed aside the cowl, the grotesque expression of a man dying in pain etched upon that of the distorted features of Sieger Ren.

 

"Can it be..." Castor uttered. "Can it be truly him?"

 

Decima Fortan | Marriskcal Lati | Varas Ren | Kyrel Ren
Doran Ren | Seto Du Couteau | Eighth Guard


Edited by Castor Ren, 24 July 2018 - 01:02 PM.


#8
Natasi Fortan

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Decima cast her gaze once more over her shoulder as their pace quickened towards the wreckage of the personnel carrier. She fell silent, knowing that backchat was not going to be helpful in the moment. Thankfully, things seemed to be calm. Varas had not risen to follow them, and Marriskcal was still further. She heeded his warning once they reached the back of the APC, steeling herself -- not just for whatever lay ahead, but against revealing her reaction in the Force. Whatever it was, whoever the body belonged to, it had troubled Castor Ren enough that it would likely trouble her as well. 

 

Sieger Ren

 

She clamped down on the cold shock that emanated from the discovery, struggling to control her emotions. Color rose in her cheeks and she studied Sieger's body for several moments. Her dark eyes narrowed and she looked at Castor, puzzled. "It cannot be," she murmured. "We would have felt it. We would have known. This is clearly -- it's -- it's -- obviously, this is just Alliance propaganda." The words left her mouth with disdain and disgust, as if the practice was shameful. There was no proof to back up her explanation; she needed none. "Sieger is immortal, Brother. He cannot be defeated -- not by any of these weaklings, not by anyone."

 

She half-turned, putting her hands to her mouth as her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "If he were dead, we would know. Wouldn't we? Wouldn't someone? Master Derith?" Decima cleared her throat, shifting tack. "There would be failsafes -- and plans -- and contingencies." She looked back up to Castor, dark eyes searching his face for something to hang her hat on. Was it too much to hope for? "Wouldn't there?" she asked again, trying to project the confidence and faith that she felt.

 

Castor Ren | Marriskcal Lati | Varas Ren | Kyrel Ren
Doran Ren | Seto Du Couteau | Eighth Guard


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#9
Varian Alaric

Varian Alaric

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Designation | Primat Ren

Location | Deserted Battlefield, Lothal

Allies | Varas Ren | Marriskcal Lati | Decima Fortan | Castor Ren | Seto Du Couteau | Eighth Guard | Kyrel Ren | Doran Ren

Status | Worried and Suspicious

 

Theme | Departure Suite

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Bodies. That was what the field of what was once supposed green grass was now covered in, bodies of the dead, bodies of either the vile Jedi or beloved fallen members of the First Order. The Jedi, who was had stood 'mighty' and 'triumphant' on this field were now lifeless husks, who's bodies either now bathed in the mud and rainwater...or had been pierced through by wooden stakes, like some glorified testament to never come back. Which, was the reason. The Jedi were gone, or at least...should remain gone from the galaxy, they had their time...and it had ended like that of a dying fire, now buried over with dirt and water. Any Jedi who still walked among the Galaxy would now have fear struck within their bodies, their order had fallen, their comrades dead...the republic, gone. Their was nothing for them to come back to...there was no reason for the pitiful and once so 'mighty' Jedi to ever return now.

 

The sore arms of Primat looped themselves around the midsection of a deceased Jedi, who's light had fled the Galaxy. One hand snatched a saber from the fallen Jedi, a saber who's hilt was embezzled with gold and silver. It was of beautiful craftsmanship, however it was also of creation by the Jedi. His steel grey eyes looked over the hilt momentarily before clasping it in the deceased Jedi's fallen hand. The least he could do for the dead Jedi was to make sure it looked as if he had died with his weapon in hand, rather than make it look like he died as a coward. It was how Primat wanted to be buried one day, with his weapon clasped in both hands to make it look like he had fallen in battle. The least he could do for this Jedi, despite how he despised them all, was make sure at least this one looked as though he had died with dignity with a weapon in hand. Primat carried the body over to a thick wooden stake who's sharp end pointed up at the dreary clouds above, before pushing the corpse onto a wooden stake.

 

He was just about to go and get another body that he had seen nearby, before a voice in his head told him something was amiss. His gaze shifted forwards and to the right, from this distance he saw one of his brothers and sister's, both of whom he hadn't met, sneak off somewhere, with a body his hand. Primat took a tentative step forwards before stopping himself. It wasn't his place to go snooping after other's affairs, whatever the two were up two, Primat had no business in it. And he wanted to keep it that way, no matter how much he wanted to investigate. Though, as he brought his eyes away from the scene, he saw Varas...and then Marr. Primat still didn't know what to think of Varas, sure he had a thing for her...though that duel was, a nasty piece of work. Then their was Marr, she felt like a literal little-sister to him...like he had to watch over her. So, he trudged across the ground, his sore legs making his feet move slow and sluggishly. Though, eventually he made it over to her, opening his mouth to speak to her. "Hey Marr, how you holding up?"


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#10
Kyrel Ren

Kyrel Ren

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Kyrel Ren, Overlord, Steward of the Ren. Far from the title he once held as an Enforcer. Had been back to the world of Lothal. This was his third time being back on the world. The battlefield, strewed with the remains of Stormtroopers, Jedi, and statues the Jedi once valued sacred remains as shards of their now fractured order.The man had taken great pleasure in slaughtering the children within the Temple, even more so when he recovered a list of every active Jedi within the Order prior to the Battle of Lothal.He had no reason to come back, all that remained were ghosts. Nothing more than the empty screams and whispers or a religion that was scattered, and divided amongst the stars. 

 

Clad in his armor, the Raiment of the Vigilant, with his blade Vader's Bane clung and dangled from his belt, every time he walked. His hands always seemed to wander to it, as if it brought him a sense of comfort as if the weapon was his only friend. The only one he could rely on or trust.He surveyed the battlefield. Wandering towards familiar faces. One he had met once being the face of the Praetorian Initiate. Marriskcal Lati He gave her a nod, while seeing his daughter Varas Ren not too far after that. Seeing the ever present mark he left as a reminder to her, not to attack her own again let it be her life.Her lesson was that of Loss. And it had what made her worthy to be a Knight. Unlike the Jedi, pain was a key factor in making the Ren strong, through pain one could surpass anything.  

 

Seeing two of his fellow Ren, move quietly to what the remains of a downed transport, he followed the two closely. Listening in on the conversation with the enhanced hearing of his mask, when he found the two. The one known as Decima Fortan, to which he himself played a hand in rescuing, and the other Castor Ren, who he had not seen often, but had remembered him even in his first days as a Disciple. Seeing the charred husk, but that of the body of Sieger Ren, he couldn't help but feel shock, utter panic. As he himself knew how powerful the old man was. He knew that even he himself wouldn't dare try to attack him. But somehow, someway a Jedi or an Alliance fool had killed him. Listening to what Decima and Castor, as if Castor looked fatigued had not carried the body anymore, and Decima was only shocked. Far from the others. He spoke, his vocalized and cold tone directed towards the two.  "It seems he is dead... There would have been plans indeed Decima, but Derith, Decitus Ren we have not seen in days, perhaps weeks.We do not know where the other Masters are either and like the ancient histories of old. Like many great Emperor's such as Vitiate or Palpatine. They all thought they were invincible as well." 

 

He stepped forward, looking through the expressionless face of his mask, but underneath that, was one of shock, as he stared more closely at the features. "It is clear that no one can know. Not the other Ren, nor anyone within the First Order. Not even the Grand Moff herself. Perhaps we should burn what is left of the corpse, then figure out where to go from here."  He said looking upon the Knight and the Disciple. 

 

Primat Ren Decima Fortan Castor Ren Eighth Guard Doran Ren Seto Du Coteau 


Edited by Kyrel Ren, 24 July 2018 - 03:04 PM.


#11
Natasi Fortan

Natasi Fortan

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Decima nearly leaped out of her skin when Kyrel Ren approached. Not that she found him imposing -- rather the opposite -- but so engrossed in the discovery and emotional turmoil of the moment was she that she didn't hear him coming, nor sense him in the Force. She turned, glancing at Castor Ren with a tremor of fear. She had been instructed to prevent them from being followed, and yet -- here was Kyrel. The Enforcer. She cleared her throat; for the moment Castor did not seem inclined to punish her, and in the meantime, they had the loose cannon of the Order of Ren to contend with. 

 

"It is treason to contemplate the death of the Supreme Leader," Decima reminded Kyrel coldly. "And I'm not sure withholding this discovery from the Grand Moff -- annoying and meddlesome as she is -- isn't the same." She squared her shoulders, drawing on a certainty she didn't quite feel. Circumstances had determined that she be present for this discussion; she had to trust that the Force moved in mysterious ways, its wonders to perform. Decima half-turned to Castor Ren again, her eyebrows raising. "Ought we not to have this body examined? To determine whether this could be some kind of elaborate ruse?" 

 

She had to wonder, in her heart of hearts, Kyrel Ren stood to gain from disposing of the body and keeping it all a secret -- especially if he was convinced that Sieger was dead. Did he consider himself some kind of successor to the great leader? "It is not as clear to me as it is to you, Master Kyrel," said Decima. "What is the protocol in this situation?"

 

Primat Ren | Doran Ren | Varas Ren

Eighth Guard | Seto Du Couteau | Marriskcal Lati


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#12
Doran Ren

Doran Ren

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 Doran grunted as he lifted a charred corpse onto a stake, it left a cracking sound rather than a squelch of flesh. He was quite a ways away from the other Ren, he was further up a hill overlooking the valley of mounted corpses. In his insanity he hummed a tune he was making up as he went along all while jamming another stake into the ground. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, for now. He had partially dreaded his return to the planet considering his failure there. However the feeling of powerlessness on the planet drove him to become stronger with the dark side. He started to breath heavily as he felt the lightning against his skin once more, he could even smell his own charring flesh as if it was happening right then. He snapped back to reality when he heard shouting below. He was too far to tell what they were saying but the different Ren were spread around the field.

 

 With a few agile bounds the young psychopath was at the bottom of the hill, standing next to his recently appointed master, Varas Ren. He crouched down beside her and removed his mask which let out a hiss as the mechanical joints separated. "What is happening master? I feel something is wrong here. I feel fear and surprise, strong in those two." The Ren pointed to a senior Ren and a girl beside him carrying a corpse in the distance. He looked to his master with concerned eyes as she called out to them and asked what they were doing.

 

Primat Ren | Doran Ren | Varas Ren

Eighth Guard | Seto Du Couteau | Marriskcal Lati


Edited by Doran Ren, 24 July 2018 - 09:44 PM.

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( Armor Of The Storm ) (  Lightsaber ) ( Voice ) ( Theme )


#13
Marriskcal Lati

Marriskcal Lati

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Praetorian Initiate
Equipment | Vibrodaggers, Throwing Knives, Training Lightsaber

Location | Forest of Stakes, Lothal

Allies | Eighth Guard, Primat Ren, Varas Ren, Doran Ren, Castor Ren, Decima Fortan, Kyrel Ren, Seto Du Couteau, Order of Ren

Status | Bleh. Why does he have to be here?!
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The youngling paused in her steps as Decima’s flare of reassurance reached back towards them. While a part of her was still worried about Rakghoul 1, it seemed that her sister had it well in hand. Knowing that someone was there for their brother, even if it’s an unfamiliar sister, placed her at ease. It wasn’t like Marriskcal had any talent at comforting another person, other than just sitting by their side and hoping that her presence would be enough. Just as she was about to turn to Varas, the footsteps and familiar signature of Primat stopped beside her.

 

With a bright grin and good cheer, the blonde turned towards him, skipping one step forward to bring herself closer to the other. “Primat! I’m doing great. Since the last time we’ve met, I’ve been on lots of adventures.” She closed her hands around his arm, and wrinkled her nose at the mud and coagulated blood she touched. Ick. Today cannot end any sooner. But even with all the unpleasant substances, Marriskcal refused to let go of her brother, instead tugging him lightly towards Varas as she continued to chatter elatedly at Primat. “What about yourself?

 

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the dreaded figure of one Doran Ren beside her brunette sister. The blonde allowed an annoyed hiss to escape her as she rethought her plans of approaching the other. While she held no grudges against the knight for their differences in ideology back on Virgillia, Marriskcal still held a grudge the size of a purrgil when it came to her disciple.


Edited by Marriskcal Lati, 25 July 2018 - 02:00 AM.

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theme | battle |


#14
Seto Du Couteau

Seto Du Couteau
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Location: Lothal, Battlefield 
Allies:Eighth Guard| Primat Ren| Varas Ren | Doran Ren | Castor Ren | Decima Fortan | Kyrel Ren
 
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The wind and air, the sky above, even with such drab weather it appeared heavenly to the young Du Couteau heir. The sewer stench engulfed his nose, and even after he had left the accursed sewer in question he wasn't sure how much scrubbing it would take to wash away the majority of the odor. I actually liked this jacket as well Seto sighed, a bit wearily he removed his jacket and let it flop to the ground, the offending smell greatly diminished. A scowl seemed almost carved on Seto’s face as he continued walk through the battlefield. 
 
“Wasteland really,” Seto muttered lowly as he scanned the ground around him. More and more bodies came into vision and many of them robed bodies, their Force signature now lost in the ever growing presence of the Living Force. 
 
Seto eyed the stakes around him, many of them touting a dead Jedi and all delivered the same message; The Knights of Ren were not to be trifled or ignored. A savage message, Seto had to admit, and he quickly maneuvered himself away from the corpses and their message. His lightsabers clattered harmlessly from his hip, perhaps a tad too freely. He gracefully ignored as much mud as possible from continuing to ruin his pant legs. His eyes scanned the area once more, plenty of Force Signatures around him and all Ren. 
 
The feeling and color of it all appeared grey, a rather difficult color to remove and even more so when anxiety and curiosity filled the air around them. Seto almost missed the new colors of emotion spread into the grey before quickly becoming with the grey itself. His eyes tracked the movement of one fellow Nekghoul, she herself carried a body no doubt too heavy but regardless continued at her task. Admirable. 
 
Seto glanced around and noted several others conducting themselves likewise, Well that explains the sheer vastness of impaled dead Jedi. His hands gently gestured upwards, calling upon the Force to gently raise two bodies and with a simple disconnect of the Force the bodies fell upon their designated stake. An apologetic expression replaced his scowl on his face as he moved away to think of different things. He did not hate them, he rarely hated anything at all, more so he pitied all the dead around him. The galaxy treated all its inhabitants with an almost laughable amount of cruelty. 
 
The earlier disturbance of new color continued, emotions erupted and once more quickly swallowed by the sheer vastness of grey all around them. “This battlefield is far more than just a graveyard for our fallen enemy,” Seto sighed as he moved closer to a small gathering of his comrades. 
 
While Seto had never exchanged more than a hundred words with Nekghoul One Marr Seto corrected himself mentally, he guessed that approaching her small group would prove less difficult than the other group with Rakghoul One. That and I spoke even less words with Rakghoul One.
 
Seto adjusted his tie and vest, patting down the creases as he glanced at the others, Last time I saw these many Ren I thought they were going to wipe out half the Order. Seto did not assume himself a true brother of Order, at least not yet, he was after-all an outsider. An Inquisitor for an Older than fell along with his old alliances and government. 
 
“Cruel, cruel galaxy,” Seto exasperated, another deep sigh followed. 
 
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"The Galaxy conspires to keep us together forever."


#15
Varian Alaric

Varian Alaric

    R A V E N

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Designation | Primat Ren

Location | Deserted Battlefield, Lothal

Allies | Varas Ren | Marriskcal Lati | Decima Fortan | Castor Ren | Seto Du Couteau | Eighth Guard | Kyrel Ren | Doran Ren

Status | Neutral and Suspicious

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Primat smiled down at Marriskcal as she approached him. She was so cute like a lost puppy, a deadly puppy at that, but an adorable one nonetheless. Ever since they had first met, she had started to grow on him. He felt obligated to protect her and just talk with her, like she were the younger sister that he never knew that he wanted. Which, he was glad for. Primat's smile widened as she felt him grab his arm and begin to talk to him. It had been awhile since they had talked with each other, as they often had been sent out on different missions and she was a praetorian initiate sadly, which meant that she trained more with the Praetorian's than the Ren. "Oh, me? I'm doing pretty good, going on a few missions every now and then. Speaking of these adventures you've gone on, what was the most exciting one that you've gone on so far?"

 

Primat let out an awkward sigh once he noticed that Marriskcal was pulling him towards both Varas and Doran. He wasn't as concerned with talking to Doran as he was talking to Varas. They hadn't talked much, since their duel and he felt as though she held some sort of resentment towards him. Or he felt resentment towards her, he wasn't sure what he really thought about her still. He did have a thing for Varas, though since their duel, he had become conflicted about her. He hadn't a reason why he was conflicted with himself and with his thoughts about Varas, though he hoped that they would subside as talking to Varas seemed without question now as Marriskcal dragged him towards both her and her apprentice. He was pulled from his slightly panicked thoughts once he heard Marriskcal give an annoyed his and he could've sworn her grip tightened around his arm. He felt that it had something to do with Doran, what seeing as how they fought all of those days and weeks ago on Virgillia. Primat subtlety bent his head some to try and whisper to Marriskcal. "What's wrong?" As he did so, he noticed one of his brother's approaching, who he had only seen once on Virgilia, giving him a curt nod.


Edited by Primat Ren, 25 July 2018 - 12:48 PM.

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#16
Varas

Varas

    Orphan

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Varas felt a strange sense of calm, just a flicker, and then it was gone. Decima’s Force-imbued soothing had worked momentarily, but again the Knight wondered what was going on. Why had the routine staking and burning of bodies suddenly ceased?
 
She now noticed Primat fussing with the fallen Jedi as though they were mannequin in a window display. Varas wanted to scream out at him to stop with such trivialities, but she felt an immense weariness, causing her to sit right where she was. 
 
Stop with your judgement, she told herself. You are no better than he or Doran. You might as well be a disciple again with how you cast stones.
 
Would she ever feel a kinship with any of them? Even her own father?
 
Suddenly Doran was by her side. She finally rose up, knees cracking and stood spine-straight, watching the quiet commotion.
 
“I don’t know, brother. But it does look as though something is amiss.” Confusion clouded her features. Turning her head to look him in the eye, she remarked, “Your eyes may deceive you.” Then using Force Sight, Varas projected her vision across the battlefield, past the bodies upright and prone to spy in on what was happening between her father and the two Ren.
 
Stifling a gasp with her organic hand, she realized the gravity of the situation. Yet how to summon the words to explain it to Doran? Honesty seemed the best method.
 
“I don’t know,” she murmured.
 
So much for the truth.
 
Primat Ren | Marriskcal Lati | Decima Fortan | Castor Ren | Seto Du Couteau | Kyrel Ren | Doran Ren

Edited by Varas Ren, 29 July 2018 - 08:35 PM.


#17
Marriskcal Lati

Marriskcal Lati

    ι l l υ м ι n a т e

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Praetorian Initiate
Equipment | Vibrodaggers, Throwing Knives, Training Lightsaber

Location | Forest of Stakes, Lothal

Allies | Eighth Guard, Primat Ren, Varas Ren, Doran Ren, Castor Ren, Decima Fortan, Kyrel Ren, Seto Du Couteau, Order of Ren

Status | Now I have two shields to block the negativity!
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The query made the youngling remember that she was in the presence of all her older brothers and sisters. While she still held an enormous amount of loathing towards Doran Ren, Marriskcal knew well enough that she should not involve the others in her silent crusade. That one schism they experienced on Virgillia was more than enough. “It’s nothing serious,” she said, shaking her head lightly. “Just some personal problems that I have to work out on my own.” And if the final solution to her personal problem included stabbing Doran several times in various non-fatal body parts, so be it. She was willing to be patient and bide her time while she continued to nurture her grudge.

 

Good thoughts only, Marr!

 

Just as she was about to reply to Primat’s prompt for her adventure, Marriskcal caught him giving a sharp nod to someone behind her. Still holding on to his arm, the youngling allowed herself to lean back on her heels and looked over her shoulders only to see Nekghoul 2, the very person she was about to include in her grand retelling. She released a hand to wave at him, “Seto, come and join us! If you haven’t met the others, I’ll introduce all of you.” Turning to look at both Varas, who has stood up and – ughhim, Marriskcal decided between the three of them, she could manage to stay in Doran’s vile presence without being too affected.

 

As they were already rather close, the youngling managed catch the last sentence Varas spoke audibly. “What is amiss, sister?


Edited by Marriskcal Lati, 29 July 2018 - 10:17 PM.

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#18
Seto Du Couteau

Seto Du Couteau
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Location: Lothal, Battlefield 
Allies:  Eighth Guard| Primat Ren| Varas Ren | Doran Ren | Castor Ren | Decima Fortan | Kyrel Ren

 

Seto stretched his arms upwards, a way to relax himself as he approached the group, offering a smile to Marr and a friendly nod to the others. He remembered them all from the Throne Room incident, A bit more than an incident Seto. With an inclination of his head, a very small bow, "I hope the weather here has proven hospitable," Seto greeted. "-The name is Seto Du Couteau," concluding his introduction. His eyes turned towards where the other group of Ren had huddled. 

 

In particular there stood the Steward himself, Kyrel Ren, and even if it wasn't depressing with the grayness of sky there was another ominous feeling stretching around. Though it was greatly different than from what he saw and felt at the Throne Room previously, Well at least there isn't any anger directed towards anyone. Yet. Seto moved closer, his arms crossing over his chest comfortably as kept a steady gaze towards the other group Ren further ahead. 

 

"Perhaps you should all approach the others and find out what has gone amiss," Seto suggested, his head gestured towards them as mused if he should do the same. Not that he had any right to know the inner workings of his new Order just yet, but mysteries thrilled the young Du Couteau heir. 

 

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"The Galaxy conspires to keep us together forever."


#19
Kyrel Ren

Kyrel Ren

    The Enforcer

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Kyrel stood openly amongst the two, perhaps he may have been a little hasty with his proposal, but he stood amongst the two. He never believed himself as a successor the man, he never could. He had only wished to follow his will and following his disappearance.He was the Steward for the reason, as after a short battle he had to pull everything together, he had to make sure the Ren kept together, he had only served as a guide and nothing more. He was just a humble servant of Sieger, but even he knew there were a few greater mysteries to the Force. Some of which he could barely comprehend. 

 

He couldn't help but scowl at Decima, the Disciple of course from what he could understand, didn't know much or at least only part of the Force's mysteries. As far as he knew the corpse had little to offer, and from what he studied on ancient dark side techniques. And to know how old Sieger was. Like all those who were stepped in the dark side of the Force. He was afraid of losing his power. He could understand and relate to that much when the disciple accused him of treason, that was when his pondering ceased and he had responded. 

 

"You mistake what I said Sister. His form is dead yes, but if you understand the great truths and secrets of the Force. This shell was only a vessel, and I have a theory. Some way he could have survived. Given how he spent much of his time in isolation. One can deduce with the knowledge he had gained he was perhaps on the verge of discovering Essence Transfer. A rare technique only the power of masters could achieve. So yes in a way he died, but his consciousness could have been allowed to remain. Maybe he discovered it, found a host and summoned a select few to join him. I am his servant as you or Castor, or as we all. There is nothing for me to gain outside of guiding those he had left behind. In regards to keeping it a secret. If any knew that this shell of his had died, there would be chaos amongst the First Order. Until we can discover the truth behind all this it would be best, if not for us all to live with the fact that he had remained in the shadows. If you have perhaps better ideas with examining a dead husk of his body, then please feel free to suggest." 

 

He said looking at her coldly, his mask hiding the scowl he bore. He knew of the ancient technique from his dealings with Darth Thaxsis on Mustafar, how the spirit once tried to take his own body, as well as further research from what he could gain in the archives. But to think Sieger would have been that powerful to unlock the secret to Immortality was unheard of. But it even surprised him the depths of power the Supreme Leader had achieved. As if he had rivaled that of Lord Sidious or Vitiate themselves. 

 

Seto Du Couteau Decima Fortan Marriskcal Lati Varas Ren Castor Ren Doran Ren



#20
Progflaw99

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The brief dialogue between Decima and Kyrel had given the seasoned Knight pause enough to gather his wits. For a moment he felt guilty even of his doubt, his uncertainty, his confusion. Rising from a knee Castors eyes examined the husk that by all appearances had been none other than Sieger. *That is what it is - merely a husk, a host for Sieger.* Closing his eyes he focused solely on the withered form below him, an attempt at gleaning some small measure of knowledge from the lingering tendrils of the Force - alas, they were cold.

 

"Nothing can be discerned from this husk... at least without a more scientific approach. I think it wise to further examine this, however discretion is of the utmost importance."

 

Though his faith had been shaken, slowly and steadily he began to project an aura of authority. One of strength and conviction. There was little else to do.

 

"Perhaps our Security Bureau might be leveraged towards the task. Would that not be the most prudent course of action?"

 

Castor sounded a lot more confident than he felt, but in the event this was a ruse as Decima had suggested, the Bureau would be a powerful tool in discerning such. Perhaps better than their own.

 

Decima Fortan | Kyrel Ren

 

Marriskcal Lati | Varas Ren | Seto Du Couteau | Primat Ren | Doran Ren