Star Wars New Sith Trials I *Voted Best RPG Summer 2016*

IC: Darth Ravenous
Mortis, Cultist Army Cluster...

Ravenous continued pushing through, no, slashing through the what seemed endless army. He felt a familiar chill up his back and stopped dead in the tracks. The Cultists swarmed his armored body and tried hacking and slashing at the suit but it held firm. He heard the familiar tone in the words reaching out through the force as he went into a quick trance,

"FINISH IT!"

The Wookiee came to, now under a pile of the Cultists clanging their weapons upon his Exo-suit. Now empowered by his Sith Master in a sort of limbo he unleashed a Force Shockwave, flinging all his Exo-suit pieces off his body, like a grenade. The pieces created a circular open space. Ravenous now exposed to the Mortis air was once again surrounded by Cultists. He could see across from him, a shuffling of bodies, the Avatar Gently pushed his way through the closest Cultists and upon emerging, stared Ravenous directly in his eyes. The Wookiee uttered the words his trapped Master had endowed upon him..

FINISH IT..

Ravenous clasped his hands together in front of him. With the audible crack that gave way, so did too the footing of all the Cultists in the immediate area of the Avatar. He made the Avatar a focal point in the Force. The fallen warriors' weapons and even the Cultists were drawn in upon the Shadowy Abeloth-avatar. The Cultists were followed by the spears, blades and axes which impaled through the conglomeration of bodies. To finish it off, Ravenous reached out in the Force and surprisingly activated a concussion missile from their nearby ship and guided it into the pile of bodies. The army was engulfed in flames. When it cleared all that remained was a wounded figure, resembling Darth Hades. This was not Hades, which Ravenous knew, but it may be the key to his eternal prison. The Wookiee lumbered over to the fallen Warrior, it looked up at him and smirked nefariously.

"Let him go..."

Ravenous held his hilt reversed and brought it down to the chest of the Avatar. All the being did was stare into the Wookiee's eyes, even after the azure beam extinguished the connection Abeloth had with it.

He rose from his kneeling position and saw more cultists gathering. He twirled his sabers, knowing it was do or die. His now missing Exo-suit couldn't let him be lax anymore. Hopefully he still had Darth Hades with him. Kriff knows he would need him.

Tag: Blade Squadron, E. L.Knight, Sinrebirth

 

OOC: So sorry for the wait on this, I haven't had a chance to do this before today.

IC: Teafa Phaidraig/ Space above the Son's Tower/ Mortis

Chaos. It was all chaos. Her mind should have been blinded by a fulfillment of the vision that had drawn her here, an explosion in the Force as the massive ship went up in flames, buffeting the ship she and Ravenous had taken, and were still heading to the surface. It was one of the times that she was very thankful that Force sight did not work the same way eyes did, but it was still painful seeing something so pure in it's essence be destroyed like that, even if it was of the dark.

Teafa wasn't entirely sure if she screamed in pain or not, but her throat felt like she had. But it was possible it had been a silent scream. The kind that strains the throat but accomplishes nothing. She hoped it was that one, as opposed to something that might have deafened... well everyone on that comm frequency. A shock of that sort could have gotten people killed given the situation as well.

Turning her attention back outwards, she saw that the goop TIEs, I think they called it mnngal? were losing their cohesion, not that she was really capable of capitalizing on it given that the black sludge was still covering everything that she could see to shoot. After thinking about it for a second, she decided that maybe it was better to appear to be trying to do something and so she began shooting, and hitting, a lot. The results were lackluster, an occasional explosion, but she knew she had saved at least one of her squadron from a death they wouldn't have seen. So there was always that.

Things didn't exactly calm down, but there was a bit of a rhythm to it as they neared the planet and entered the atmosphere. And as they did Teafa gasped in pleasure, surprise and shock. The presence of the Force here was overwhelming in the extreme, her sight was overwhelmed with things that seemed to be pure essence of the Force, both light and dark. But also grey, a grey so intense that it might as well have been a light of it's own type. Ashla, no one back at Alpheridies would believe me about this. It raised all kinds of interesting questions, but it did answer one thing she had wondered and wanted to seek out. Obviously the Force could be used in complete balance, could the individual maintain it. But that was something to file away for later use as they neared what felt like the home of the darkside, the land, the plants, the very air itself different shades of blackness, darkling light, the ebony of the abyss. This is going to take some getting used to. And then Ravenous was gone, and she was buffeted by the air.

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!” She screamed out to him, knowing there was no way he'd be able to hear her. Frantically she began trying to find out if she could even fly the ship, thinking she had been betrayed or simply left for dead. But the ship didn't end up spiraling out of control, and moved with purpose. And so instead of leaving a crater in the ground, she found herself landing near where the other Sith were. That was a relief of sorts. But instead of exiting the fighter, she sat there, simply breathing for a moment, trying to center herself in some capacity. But she felt the fear, the anger, the rage and hatred, despair and other, darker things swirling about in the atmosphere of this place, centered around two different places: one the obsidian tower that they were soon to be assaulting... and the other... the other was a hole in existence, leading... leading... Shaking her head, she knew that it was beyond words. Beyond description. Beyond imagination, and only if one were to go there could it be understood. And the only passage through to that place was the portal of death, and that was one doorway through which she had little desire to walk.

Using the Force, which came in greater quantity and more effortlessly than she was used to, Teafa flipped out of the cockpit of the ship and landed lightly on her feet. She could still feel Ravenous through their link in the Force that she hadn't bothered to sever, whether he ultimately would she had no idea. She looked, taking in the scene of chaos and slaughter, before spotting several individuals of the enemy that were blazing darkness like the giant ship above had been. Abeloth, surely. It has to be. They distracted her just enough that she almost failed to notice the crazed cultist that was headed her way. With a lightsaber. He was the only one of the cultists that she could see wielding one, the others instead using weapons covered in the goop that was Mnngal Mnngal. And she quickly understood the terror that the goop represented, seeing the beings that were already somewhat dissolved but still moving. The hunger emanating from it was also pretty tell tale.

Forcing her attention to be on the wookiee charging at her in a cloak of Mnngal, she quickly drew the lightsaber that she had received from Visas Marr, the one that felt like an extension of her being, and lit it. She couldn't see the blade's color, but it blazed a pure white in sharp contrast to the blackblade that the cultist wielded. As he moved in to strike her with an overhead blow, she moved forward one step and set herself with both hands on the hilt, and drawing on the Force, blocked the blow. It left her whole being jarred, as the wookiee was so much bigger than she was.

She could feel the pressure increase, the wookiee simply trying to use his greater bulk to overpower her and force her own blade into her face. By Ashla, I'll have none of that. Shifting the hilt of her saber up, she angled the blade down towards her left shoulder and spun out of the attempted bind, slashing out low at the man's knees.

Teafa felt a surge of the Force through the wookiee as he leapt forward, and she quickly spun around again so that she wasn't being flanked, holding her saber up in what was a simple guard position. Relief flooded through her as she realized that this was the only being she was going to have to deal with for the immediate future as everyone else was focused on the other Sith. Why he had decided she was worth the effort was beyond her, seeing as the others were either fighting Abeloth clones or slicing through the other cultists.

With a howl that she was weak, that she should fight him head on, he reached out with the Force and attempted to pick her up and crush her. She could feel the pressure against her, see the tendrils in the Force as they began reaching out, wrapping themselves around her. Ashla help me. Calling upon her knowledge of tutamanis, she drew upon the Force and sliced through the tendrils with her mind, and she fell back to the ground, landing in a tri-pod with one hand on the ground.

Not letting her gather herself, she saw the wookiee charge at her. Apparently he couldn't comprehend that just because she wasn't “looking” in his direction she could still see him. To most beings that was a mystifying concept, but to one strong in the Force it shouldn't have escaped them. Instead of standing up, she flung out her other hand, the one with the ligthsaber in it, and pulled him, attempting to use his momentum to draw him out of control and impale him on the blade.

A yowl of surprise and fear escaped the wookiee, and instead of continuing his headlong run, he managed to plant one foot well enough to flip into the air above her, though it wasn't exactly a straight flip. Attempting to take advantage of the situation, Teafa stood up and swung upwards as the wookiee flipped awkwardly above her. The Force was with her, as the wookiee had had to turn off his saber so as not to cut himself on it, she felt her own blade bite into him, though where she knew not where. The howl of pain more than confirmed it.

As the wookiee landed in a heap on the ground, rage and pain emanating off of him in waves. She could feel him growing in strength, and instead of capitalizing on the moment she found herself backing away in fear. She knew it was a Force attack, knew that it was the wrong thing to do, but the animal part of her brain simply would not allow her to do anything else. As far as the dynamic of the situation was concerned, he was still the predator, and she the prey, and they both knew it. And a wounded predator was often a far more terrifying thing.
He stood up, and threw both hands in her direction, pushing her with the full weight of the darkside from the area pulsing through it. While she quickly put up a shield to attempt to angle at least some of it away from her, it completely overwhelmed her hasty defenses and she found herself flying away, even losing her lightsaber as the impact flung her more than a dozen feet.

Rolling like a ragdoll, Teafa found herself laying there for precious seconds. Ashla, help me. Please. Pulling on the Force the only way she really knew how, attempting to find her peaceful center, she attempted to rise, only to find herself stumbling slightly as her balance was still stolen from her. Her ears still rang. But thanks to her sight, she knew exactly what was coming, the wookiee was charging. And he could sense blood. She could feel some herself, oozing down from the right side of her head and down her cheek. Must have caught a rock somewhere. It certainly explained the dizziness.

Grabbing the other lightsaber off of her built, instead of trying a straight block this time, she parried and redirected the force of the blow while circling away from it. And even so the blow jarred her arm painfully. He followed up with a rapid spin and attack from the opposite side, and her being disoriented as she was, the only thing she found herself able to do was practically fall backwards, barely managing to turn it into a roll, that had to be turned into another one to the side as he relentlessly attempted to cut her in two.

Desperately Teafa threw out a push through the Force as she came to her feet, and caught him on the side of the head. While he was disoriented she drew on the Force deeper and Force pushed him again, gaining the distance she needed to go for her other lightsaber. While there wasn't any practical difference between the two, the one that was truly hers simply felt more comfortable, gave her more confidence. In a way it felt as though it even strengthened her connection to the Force itself, though that could simply have been the nature of Mortis itself.

Dropping the borrowed saber, still lit, Teafa instantly felt better as her hand closed around the other saber's hilt. Why does an object... But she cut the thought short. This was the time for action. And so she drew upon the Force again as the wookiee began making his way over towards her again, this time a little more warily. The wound was obviously starting to take it's toll, as she saw it was in the lower left side of his abdomen just above the hip. Smiling to herself, she reached out and attempted to choke the wookiee. Grunting under the effort, she saw the Force wrap itself around his throat, and he began to gargle. Hope began to rise in Teafa's heart as she thought that maybe, just maybe she could win this, and her grip tightened.

But the hope was short lived as she watched the wookiee settle and call upon the Force himself, pushing against her own application of the Force. Only he was fueled by all of the dark emotions swirling around them as well as his own. And the grip was shattered, and she gasped as the backlash hit her. A bloody grin found it's way onto the wookiee's face and he began walking towards her slowly, and Teafa again found herself afraid. She was clearly over matched so long as she fought on his terms. So long as she tried to draw on the dark that was around her, as she realized that was what she had been doing, even through the “centered” nature she had been trying to do so. But she could also feel something else around, something desperate for someone to reach out to it. And choking someone was hardly the way to do so.

Backing away, Teafa realize that if she was ever going to use her emotions to strengthen her call upon the Force this was the time for it. Possibly the last chance she was ever going to happen. Fear there was in abundance. Hate. Loathing. Even things such as lust swirled in the air, and attempted to find it's way inside her. But she realized something in that moment, that where there is fear there is often hope hiding in an equal measure. And so she reached through her emotion, through her hope for victory, her hope to stop typhojem, her hope for a better tomorrow, and she found an amazing strength that she had never imagined she could tap into. She also found love. Love for this life, and all of it's simple pleasures. Love for the beings of the galaxy who knew nothing of what was being fought for on this planet lost to time, space, and recorded history.

The Force itself was out of balance in this place, the darkside feeding upon itself, looping and disturbing. But there was another side there as well, and she felt it surge inside her and she knew exactly what to do, and so she released herself into the Force, trusting it to guide her to the fulfillment of her hopes.

And she moved.

It was a faster than she had thought she was physically capable of, and she felt the shock and surprise in the wookiee as she rushed past him, her lightsaber blade rising from below and cutting him in twain at the hips, followed by a quick spin that gracefully passed through his neck, separating his head from his body.

As the body fell to the ground in three pieces, the Mnngal cloak collapsing into a puddle on the body, she looked around, trying to take in what was going on in the battle, while remaining firmly entrenched in the Force's embrace. She felt lighter than she ever had before, and when she looked at herself she blazed with the light of hope. There were three fights going on with Abeloth, one involved Ravenous and a vision of his old master Hades, but she could see through it easily. Force illusions were nigh upon useless against the Miraluka, and as connected to the Force as she was in that moment it was even more laughable.

A second was fighting with someone that Teafa did not recognize, and hadn't actually been at the banquet. She knew not what he had been doing, but he fought with skill, and she knew he was capable of handling himself in this situation. The third was fighting her master, and had just been flung away with a primal cry through the Force that she felt buffet against her even at this distance. And she saw a fourth coming to life, saw where it was going, and who it would be fighting.

Drawing on the Force she grabbed the discarded saber she had gotten on the ship, and flung it towards the Ssi-ruuk, hoping that the additional weapon would be of some use to him. If she only knew his name, but the hunger and thirst for power and knowledge inside of him was a blazing fire.

For herself, she pulled the fallen wookie's black bladed saber to her and deactivated it, attaching it to her belt. Something told her she should also be heading in the same direction as the lightsaber she had just sent that way... until the Force overtook her completely, and gave her a flash of insight. Insight into what Abeloth was doing, what she wanted. And what she was missing. And just like that Teafa knew what she could do to at least create a small distraction for in one of the Abeloth's, though which one was constantly shifting as she watched.

Calling out, using the Force to amplify her voice, “Abeloth! I know what you want. I will be your daughter, just as you have chosen a son and a father. I will love you as you need so deeply!” As she was she was able to look on Abeloth with pity, one who had been cast aside when all she had truly wanted was to be an equal member of a family, while regular Teafa only saw a hideous monstrosity of incredible power. “Come to me Abeloth, show me the power of the Daughter!” Ashla be with me... Bogan be with the others. Hopefully her plan would work, and she wouldn't be completely overwhelmed instantly.

And then everything happened.

TAG: Sinrebirth, and Darth_Elu specifically, also the rest of Blade Squadron

 

IC: Darth Cocytus: Son's Tower

Darth Cocytus's eyes narrowed as he continued to fight his way through enemy fighters as he followed Blade Squadron towards Son's Tower. He summoned the power of force to aid him in his flight. A cultist slamed into his ship causing him lose direction. Gah! Cursed insolent fool! cursed the Kaminoan, anger and hate burning coldly as he struggled for a moment to return on coarse, May he end in fire!

Cocytus resummoned the power of the force to guide him back on course, rejoining Blade Squadron as they began to enter Son's Tower. The kaminoan glared at the enemies inside and began a strafing run, decimating the cultists as he crashed landed into hanger. Cocytus immediately jumped out of his cockpit and found himself surrounded by the enemy, armed with nothing but vibroblades.

Fumming with ice-cold hatred, Cocytus raised his arms and unleashed a storm of sith lightning and force push upon his swarming foes, obliterating them with the power of the dark side. Suffer! he thought coldly and hatefully, continuing to use the power of the force to decimate his enemies with his left hand hand while slicing and dicing others to pieces with soresu with his summoned lightsaber in his right, Suffer and enter oblivion!

 

IC: Soliloquy
Daughters Tower, Inside the auspicious pocket

It felt the rush, the weight, the Force of their combined situations and it found the feeling was sapping. Draining the joy Mortis had brought to it. With such joy and happy visions dancing in all their heads how could these find this place wanting of war or struggle. Survival yes. That was paramount to any being that prized it's own mortality above an others or an organization. Still. It was perplexed. Perplexing as all this was it did not know what a Holocron was to do in this situation. Imparting knowledge? Foolish history mistakes 101 practically had a section on that mistake. Battle was the time for gifts, not lessons.

Besides distractions after caused deaths to the distracted. Illusionist basics 101. Still there was more. Something perhaps instead of more that it could do. . . ah yes. Deceit 224 lesson 76, use your weakness on your enemies general. Sometimes the weakest point was a shared concern, like a reactor core in a space battle. Both sides had one. Although striking often exposed your own unless you played a long game of slugging it out. Hmm. Misdirection 376, lesson 4, keep it simple.

As they approached the tower, the paramour having preceded them and caused the veil to thin ahead, as they waded in to what would come a single cultist would grasp his head and cry out, one that held a black slicked blade. Die out into the life of a vegetable from a mind shard attack actually. Only it was going to use that hollow shell, that empty vessel. "Mnngl-mnngl." it would simply speak with the borrowed raspy voice as it moved its puppet to take a knee as it stared at the black oily slick that coated its chosen victims weapon.

"[We need to talk.]" The body continued not in basic, but in an old dialect. Ancient some would even say, for it spoke it in the language of the Croke. Short, direct, and layered with meanings upon meanings to every word that only a race of beings that count their elders by the 10's of thousands of years they have lived instead of hundreds. "[Mnngl-mnngl surprises us. Where is the amusement, the value, in a sterile galaxy? No more lovers or friends of new or exotic races waking to find the greatest betrayals. No parents finding their children to act like geniuses only to one night shortly thereafter find themselves locked in their own home as their child comes to slowly kill and consume them. Where is the fun in a galaxy where you no longer have toys? Just dust and dead worlds, never used. Tell us?]"

The holocron's many minds were one on this. They needed to know.

TAG: Sinrebirth, Lady Belligerent, Darth_wanderguard, Halle Dray (if you spare your pocket a moment to feel its churning in your pocket )

 

IC- Darth Arach
Mortis, Monastery

Something tells me this is not going to be easy, Arach thought as Bellorum started running toward a figure in the doorway ahead. Arach followed.

They were almost across, however, when cultists appeared.

Arach sped up, grabbed her lightsaber and ignited it. She immediately started hacking through the enemies.

As the brief skirmish ended, the assassin heard Bellorum's shout, "Shield yourselves!"

As soon as she spoke, Arach felt something pelting her. She barely looked down before she felt sharp needle teeth dig into her unprotected arm.

Releasing a yelp of pain, the High Lord grabbed the bug and smashed it on the ground. Her arm throbbed where the thing had bitten her. A glance at the wound showed that the bug had taken a chunk of her flesh with it.

Growling with anger, Arach felt Bellorum flinging the bugs away and joined the triumvir in her efforts, but with a bit more force and violence than was needed.

"We need that dagger, and she's trying to hold us back," Bellorum's voice rang out.

In response, Arach used the Force to leap over the remaining bugs and land closer to the Dawn Herald, just as a ball of flame ignited in her hand.

The throng of bugs kept their distance from Bellorum and moved away from her... Towards the unconscious figure off to the side. As Bellorum ordered thhem to save Ike, Arach was already using the Force to enhance her speed.

She Force flung the few bugs that had reached him before she could, taking delight as some of them burst open.

Crouching defensively in front of the man, Arach smirked darkly. "Order up for some extra crispy protein."

She gathered her lightening and was just about to release it when....

.... Everything went black.

Tags: Lady Belligerent, Sinrebirth, Mitth_Fisto, Halle Dray, corinthia

 

GM APPROVED


IC: Darth Syren
The Well of the Dark Side

No more pain.

For a moment… it was an odd truth.

As Syren stood at the edge of the seal, watching her blood drip steadily to the rune below, a tingling coldness began to trickle up from the fingertips of her wounded hand held aloft. Like icy shards, it snaked over her arm and across her shoulder, connecting with a pinch to the charred flesh near her collar bone. The intense heat that had been searing outwards into her throat and chest went numb instantly. She could still feel the throb and strain of her injuries, yet… the pain was quite simply not there any longer. It was a peculiar sensation, but one she could not linger on.

Instead, the apprentice warmed to the darkness swirling about as it gained intensity and strength; perhaps a combination of her own connection to the Force mingling with those around her. The Night Herald and Manticore with their physical battle, the Lorekeeper with his sorcery; they were all alight with dark side energies. While they each fed off their own personal source, she wondered if they were all more so feeding off one another.

She reflexively glanced downwards to the rune at her feet.

Or feeding off of Him, Syren thought, a thrill of fear causing her breath to catch.

Eyes shifting and narrowing to the kneeling Haretisch, Lady Arach flashed into her mind then. For as short a time as Syren had known the High Lord, her Master, she knew the young woman would be far more certain in her next actions than she. Having done her one deed, the only reason she was involved in this insanity, she now felt lost…

Sensing his power in the Force regroup to stave off her Mind Shard and the Lorekeeper’s unseen attack, her hand dropped to her side as magma pockets began to burst around the small island. As a burning rain started to fall down upon them, a slight but significant jolt in the Force surged within Syren. A deep, rejuvenating breath reached her lungs and she gasped. There was a distinct boost of her own power and she quickly formed a Force Barrier for protection from the scorching airborne particles. Not knowing from where or whom the aid had come from, she seized on it and renewed her focus.

Yes, her individual part was complete but there were still the two other pieces of the key that must bleed. Syren had to get her blade to Lord Manticore and then to the Lorekeeper. And fast.

Lord Haretisch sprung into the air before she could finish her thought and Syren moved to step away from the rune. This was her chance! But something in the back of her mind told her, stay, and so she did. Swiftly moving her vibroblade to her injured hand, she grabbed her right lightsaber in the other as he landed dead center within the seal itself. He was so close…

"COME AND BLEED, THEN,"he taunted the Zabrak High Lord. And she watched wide-eyed as Manticore answered with a blazing orb of fire, launching it directly at their foe. On the other side of the rune, she simultaneously noted the Lorekeeper deep in concentration, enacting more of his dark spells.

My turn, she thought with determination. Lifting both hands and the weapons still held within their grasps, Syren locked her focus once again onto the Dark Lord. She began pouring her energy into the intense concentration Withering Affliction required to be successful. Her grey eyes saw nothing else than her target and she would pull from every available resource she had to harm him. To stop him.

Then, she blinked.

Her vision returning but a moment later, Syren was still looking intently at Haretisch but…

Everything had stopped. No… slowed.

Her arms lowered as she wildly glanced around, quickly returning to the man in front of her.

Everything.

The cinders of what remained of the magma rain hovered in midair, falling at a fraction of the speed. The Battelord’s fiery assault hung on its intended path, its trail of flames flowing as if in the barest wisp of a breeze. Both High Lords stood almost as statues, their faces painted with fury and lethal intent. And the Night Herald still stood defiantly with his weapon held at the ready.

All that was in full motion an instant before was now passing through time as if one minute was being stretched to many.

Except for her.

Frozen to the spot in shock, Syren immediately recalled the Eye of Hoth. His influence on the artifact had made it possible for her mind to experience several minutes within its space but outside, the others had seen it all pass at once. Was this the same? Was this Typhojem?

Syren…

Her heart nearly burst from her chest as she looked down at the sound of the voice, His voice. The lines of the seal started shifting in a glowing vortex, tinged an unnatural shade of a color she could not name.

COME. TO. ME.

The icy absence of pain that had worked its way over her body’s traumas, keeping her from utilizing the fuel source to her own gain… it flooded out over every inch of her and took complete and total hold. Seizing control of Syren’s physical form, it slammed her down face first onto the rune. Lifting her blood-slicked hand and thrusting it to the side at an unnatural angle, she shouted as she heard something within crack and break. Her blade dropped to the ground as her grip went limp. Fingers were forcibly splayed and her hand went down onto the seal, the wound on her palm stretched and torn fresh with malicious vigor.

As soon as her opened cut made contact leaving a crimson smear across the enchanted ground, a wave of pain struck her. It immediately overwhelmed the apprentice to the point that Syren would have screamed had she been able to find her voice. It felt as if she were being torn in half. And she was. Her mind detached from her body, cast aside and set adrift. And she could feel Him locked in here with her.

You FAILED me.

The frigid grip found her again, wrapping icy tendrils around her consciousness. Her eyes found focus but they were no longer hers to see through. It was as if she was peering through a window. ‘You,’ she sneered mentally. ‘Failed? I don’t even remember!’

Yes, you do.

Then, as a floodgate would open to allow a mountain of water to move, a wall disintegrated within her mind. Syren was overcome with a deluge of memories that had once been missing but felt as if they’d been there all along.

Every time He spoke to her, every time she obeyed, His beckoning to Hoth, her arrival and failure to do as he commanded. How she had found her way into the Temple there, but her way back out had been blocked. Being locked away in that frozen tomb and forcing her to enter stasis to survive. It all filled the holes in her memory like a puzzle completing itself after the final piece was inserted. It was all there now; the full picture she had been dying to have. Now understanding how He was more a part of her than she could have imagined, she felt such shame. Disgust. Hate.

But it made no difference now.

Syren could only watch, a passenger in her own skin, as He brought her up from the ground and to her feet. She began to walk.

‘What are you doing with me?’ she asked suddenly. He ducked her around Manticore’s inferno assault, the flames flicking ever so slightly as she passed by, and kept her legs moving forward with purpose. As she came around the other side of Haretisch, He focused her gaze onto that of the Lorekeeper.

‘No… wait…’

She came to stand directly beside the High Lord, now noticing his features changing in this downtempo version of the moment. ‘Don’t…’ She recoiled and tried to look away.

NO, Syren. WATCH.

There was no pulling back, no hiding. He angled her body at the Lorekeeper’s back and pressed her close to him. Her right hand came up to hold her lightsaber hilt just below a shoulder blade, slightly off center but turned inward.

‘MONSTER!’

Her finger moved over the activation switch and she fought the Left-Handed Lord with everything she had left. Any struggle was pointless, of course. Syren was no match for Typhojem. None of them were.

You will die. And you will be forgotten. Your life and existence are meaningless.

Remembering these repeated words from her vision, He pushed her finger down as she watched on in horror. The crimson blade shot to vibrant life and buried itself within the Sith Lord that stood before her.

YOU WILL DIE.

As suddenly as it had set on, Typhojem’s frigid grip released her and time reverted back to normal. As it did, all she could do was scream in an agonizing fury as she instantly deactivated her lightsaber.

It was too late.


TAGS: Mikaboshi Darth_wanderguard greyjedi125

 

GM update 3 of 3

IC: Darth Haretisch -- Well of the Dark Side

Magma rain abated, robbed of its potency by Manticore and the Lorekeeper in tandem. And within the Stygian Executor's palm, a writhing mass of fire grew steadily.

This was a mistake. Manticore's focus was divided. He was taking far too much on, stretching his abilities to their limits and beyond. If there were ever a time, admittedly this was it, but nonetheless he would leave himself vulnerable and drained the same as Haretisch had done before.

At last he sent the fireball hurtling toward the Night Herald, who parted it with an open hand and allowed each half to arc around his form before dissipating. Not harmlessly - he was left scorched by it. But even as he stood burned, the cloth of his sleeve in tatters now, the exposed skin of his arm bubbling and blistering terribly, he remained in the rune, unmoved.

The Lorekeeper was a master of cryokinesis. Able to chill to the bone with only a thought. And once again he had caught Haretisch unawares. Within an instant, his legs were numb, his boots frozen to the ground. In the peripheries of his senses, too, he could feel his vitality being slowly drained away by Syren, but his pain replenished it.

Manticore, meanwhile, had launched himself forward, charging headlong into the fray, to capitalize on the betrayer's disadvantage.

A lesser opponent would find themselves utterly outmatched by the High Lord in such a spot, unable to maneuver and forced to stand against the full brunt of his assault. Manticore was a physical marvel - the pinnacle of conditioning and martial prowess, his body and skills honed like a blade.

But he could not match the Night Herald's reckless brutality.

With all his might, the betrayer reached forward, capturing Manticore in his grip even in the midst of his charge inward, and yanked viciously. The High Lord would close the distance more quickly, and with far more force, than he had intended.

A perfectly timed parry batted Manticore's blade aside, and the two made contact. At the moment of impact, Haretisch had leaned in to the collision, immovable owing to the icy prison encasing his boots. Shoulder met collarbone and skull met cheek, and Manticore would be thrown flat to the ground outside of the rune, ears ringing and head spinning.

Haretisch would have gone flying himself, but instead his frost restraints absorbed most of the blow, and buckled as he sagged against them. He stumbled back, out of the rune, and fell to a knee, spitting out broken teeth and steadying himself with one gloved hand. Blood flowed freely from a gash where Manticore's horned crown had met his cheek, leaving a quivering wound which stretched to below his jawline. Some of it had fallen within the rune itself, and he was certain his closeness to Typhojem had made him an unwilling key piece. The score was now two to nothing.

How quickly momentum can shift.

A scream erupted from behind the Lorekeeper. One of despair and agony. At the same instant, a scarlet blade erupted from the librarian's chest, followed by a breathless gasping wheeze. Syren stood at his back, an unwilling traitor. A tool of Typhojem to the end.

Haretisch stood raggedly and capitalized on the opening, clawing white hot cords of electricity bursting from his fingertips to envelope them both. Flesh was charred to the bone within moments as he hoisted them both into the air and let the bodies fall, smoking, into the rune of power. The score was now even, and Manticore stood alone against a Dark Lord of the Sith.

The Night Herald's lightsaber ignited anew as he looked to his final obstacle. "It's almost over," he said, blood pouring from his mouth. A keen mind would perceive that he was speaking to himself moreso than to Manticore. He was nearly in pieces - burned and broken and stained red, but he continued to feed on his pain.

TAG: greyjedi125

~

IC: Typhojem -- Chaos

The mists would part, and Syren and the Lorekeeper would wake lying on the grass, only a short distance apart. Wounds healed, scars faded. Even signs of aging would be no more.

The view in the distance was obstructed, and the sky a twisting expanse of gray stretching into forever.

"Welcome," a smooth voice would say, and standing before them was a male. Skin as black as tar. Black hair. Black teeth. Black robes. Only his eyes differentiated him from a three dimensional silhouette - radiant eyes of yellow fire.

"I am the left-handed lord. And you have entered my domain," he offered a crooked smile.

The words would creep into the skin and up the spine, and the simple fact of the beast's presence would unsettle even the most powerful mortal to the core.

"There is something I would offer you."

TAG: QueenSabe7, Mikaboshi

 

IC: Darth Manticore
Mortis: Darkness.Betrayal. Sacrifice.

The Battlelord shook off his dazed condition quickly, using Teras Kasi internal energy techniques and regained his footing.

The Night Herald. A true warrior he was, indeed. The nagai fought as he would, with near mirror-like tenacity and prowess. It was simply…exhilarating. This, this was his greatest opponent to date. Darth Haretisch was as much a tactician and combatant as the Stygian Executor himself.

Manticore did not have to see it, for he felt it. Both the Lorekeeper and Darth Syren were gone, felled by the traitorous Night Herald.

Darkly, Darth Manticore rose and regained his battle focus, his fiery gaze locked upon Haretisch’s battered form. The dynamics of the combat field had shifted, as they often do, but the zabrak remained true to himself.

If this was the Twilight of Order and the Dawn of Chaos, Manticore wanted no part of it.

Manticore stretched out with his Force Powers.

If it weren’t for the boost of power he had received moments earlier, the High Lord would find himself greatly depleted of energy, but that was not the case. He never had much contact with Triumvir Bellorum, but he could not deny her fortuitous and timely intervention. It hadn't changed the outcome of events, but the act itself had revealed some hidden nuances he’d long suspected.

As for Emperor Insipid, Manticore could not perceive him with his force senses, nor his influence over the battle.

Sith Leaders, rose and fell. It was the nature of their culture. Manticore smirked, suspecting that Darth Insipid would likely rise again at a time of his own choosing.

So, the Sith Empire he was raised and groomed to be a part of was ripping itself out of existence just after conquering the galaxy entire - and for what? If there was irony or poetry in any of it, he could not see it at the moment, nor would he care for it.

Lord Manticore was left to surmise that the future of the Sith was in the hands of Darth Bellorum, should there be any attainable future after this day was done.

“It’s almost over.” Manticore heard Haretisch declare. The Battlelord’s fiery gaze flashed as he stoically nodded in response.

Knowledge is power.

Some had knowledge of the things past, or hidden esoteric secrets. Others possessed technical knowledge. There was also martial knowledge. But those who had knowledge of The Self and knowledge of The Force - who could measure them?

Darth Manticore understood a few things- like his current position outside the rune, in contrast to Haretisch holding the very center of it. It wasn’t hard to decipher.

He now knew the position of the Well of Darkness in relation to Mortis. Its location was not chosen randomly.

And he knew what had to be done.

Without any hesitation, Manticore clenched his gloved fist and set-off a series of powerful detonations.

The Star Viper and the other ships had fallen into the lava. They were no longer space worthy, but not much else had happened, which told the zabrak all he needed to know.

Since he knew the Star Viper and its systems like the back of his hand, it was a simple matter to reach out with the Force and detonate the on-board torpedoes, causing a cascading series of explosions which -in his estimation- would destroy the Well of Darkness and everyone in it.

It was the only way to be sure.

Wonoksh Qyâsik nun.



Tag: @Darth_wanderguard

 

IC: Radian T'lenity
A Ditch Somewhere near the Sons tower

A fiery pain was felt in the Mirialans skull as he regained consciousness. What had happened? He thought wearily. Last he recalled he had made a heroic and brave landing of their ship as the battle began. Did I die? He posited for a second just before more feeling began to return to his sore limbs, and pounding skull.

Carefully he moved his right palm to his forehead, feeling the cut he had received in the vision. It was freshly opened, some of the blood had dried, but it still oozed painfully. This was definitely deeper than before. The Jedi sighed in realization that he was still very much alive.
A moment passed, and another. He really didn't want to get up. But with a grunt, he forced himself into a sitting position, and propped himself against a bolder a few inches away.
As he scanned the area he took in the chaos that had occurred while he was out.
It looked to be two dozen dead cultists, and other such creatures.
No Sith, at least that he saw from his angle.
Damn, these Sith clearly weren't run of the mill mooks he had faced on the front lines a thousand times over. They was the real deal.

He called heavily on the force to pull himself to his feet. He wasn't sure how he had gotten himself in this situation, or any of these situations for that matter. But he wasn't about to sit back and die like a novice.

He calmed his mind, and began to focus on the task at hand. One problem at a time. Where was his lightsaber?

A simple problem. And one he intended to rectify first. He took a soothing breath. And reached out amongst the carnage. Feeling for the familiar presence, the song it sang in his mind.
He turned, and took two steps. Sensing the smooth hilt two dozen feet away, beside a headless corpse.
He called out to it, and it answered by flying into the palm of his hand, and with its familiar presence Radian stood ready for whatever was next.

Its green blade lit up the field, and permitted him to see past the physical darkness, if not the mental one.
"Good to have you back old friend..."
He muttered to himself, though his voice sounded scratchy even in his own ear.

His focus was returning slowly, and with it renewed clarity. Where was everyone? He wondered suspiciously. This was not the expected landing zone, and he didn't see his ship anywhere. Radian wouldn't have run off on his own without good reason, that much he was sure of. Something big must be going on.
Specifically he was curious as to the location of Aryan, the man he had been assigned to protect by the Emperor.
"If he's dead I'm not taking the blame..." Radian murmured.
He took a moment to use his blade to slice a strip of cloth from his loose tunic, and wrap it around his head as a makeshift bandage.

With that taken care of Radian moved two more steps in the direction of the tower, before a shining piece of metal caught his eye as the light of his blade reflected off of it. Kneeling down he took the small thing in his hand, and realized it was his communicator. A little dinged up, but it should still work. He activated it, and a small static erupted from it. "Hello? This is Radian T'lenity, Jedi taskforce are you there? Autha Ni-Mic, do you hear me??" Nothing, kark. He flipped the channel, he didn't like it but it was his best choice.
"Hello, this is Radian T'lenity..." With audible reluctance he continued. "Please tell me someone is alive out there. You Sith aren't the kind to surrender so I figure either the battles still going on, or everyone is dead. I never thought I'd say this, but I hope its the former..." Still just static.
Mortis, it had to be because of Mortis.

"Kark, Kark, kark, kark, kark, kark..."

Radian looked at the tower, and prepared to do the only thing he could do, go towards it.
But first he took a moment to impale a not quiet dead cultist who was trying to sneak up on him from behind.
And his journey began.

Tags: Sinrebirth, Anyone else in the area.

 

IC: Darth Haretisch -- Well of the Dark Side

The cavern shook - a rumble which issued from deep beneath the surface. The explosive payload which remained in the ships at the bottom of the lake of magma had detonated at Manticore's behest. The result at the surface wasn't a violent explosion and a rain of liquid fire - no, the lake swelled for a moment but did little more than that.

The true damage was done in the depths of the cavern, and began a chain reaction as the initial rumble of the explosions were followed with more, working their way upward through the walls of the pit, intensifying with every moment until at last the passage above collapsed in on itself. Stones large and small began to fall from overhead as the aftershocks continued.

In a matter of minutes, The Well of the Dark Side would crumble completely.

"Do you so fear defeat that you would abandon victory rather than face me?" Haretisch snarled, yelling over the seismic racket engulfing the Well. "COWARD!"

With that he closed the distance, fleet of foot despite his grievous injuries, and feinted left as he came within range. He spun, and with a flourish brought his blade upward from the right, aiming to cut the High Lord from hip to collar.

TAG: greyjedi125

 

IC: Darth Manticore
Mortis: The Well of Darkness





Yes!

Manticore smirked with satisfaction as the cavern shook with a rumble which issued from beneath its surface. Visibly, the lake swelled for a moment, but that was unimportant. The Stygian Executor could sense it clearly. His gambit paid off.

A chain reaction was set in motion, much as he’d estimated. Cracks began to run violently up the cavern walls as faults split open. Above them, the passage collapsed on itself as it began to rain rocks and boulders down on the platform.

It wouldn’t be long now, before the Well became a Tomb.

And if the Force had anything to say about it, perhaps the rest of Mortis as well.

“Do you so fear defeat that you would abandon victory rather than face me?"

The zabrak High Lord clearly heard the Night Herald’s rage-filled voice snarl over the seismic racket engulfing the Well.

“COWARD!"

Manticore actually allowed a venomous chuckle to escape his lips, as he side-stepped a series of falling boulders. Yes. This was more like it.

The Traitorous Triumvirate didn’t get it. But that did not matter in the least. Did he really sense ‘fear’ in Manticore? A laughable thought for sure. Quite likely, Harestich was directing that sentiment at himself. Again. That didn’t matter either.

Order in the Galaxy had to be maintained at any and all costs.

Manticore’s saberstaff flared to life instantly- even as Haretisch rushed in. The zabrak felt the bloodlust of combat pounding inside his ears, burning through his veins, exploding through his being!

A mere thought caused a falling rock to go greet the speeding Triumvir. Manticore side-stepped, joining in the deadly dance, dodging the linear attack as he parried, catching Haretisch’s blade with his own. Both weapons sparked furiously as they clashed.

Haretisch’s blade travelled its course, singeing a smoking line across the High Lord's black robes.

Par for the course.

Neither combatant slowed or hesitated.

Manticore maneuvered himself to remain close to Haretisch where he could apply pressure. The Battlelord performed a savage kick to the knee of the Dark Lord’s leading leg, and simultaneously slashed right, across his abdomen, then slashed diagonally up and left, looking to catch his opponent under the armpit and sever his top-half clean off.

This wasn’t about glory, or power, or fame, or any such vanity.

There was only one sentence for the level of betrayal wrought by a Sith Triumvir.

It was the Stygian Executor's role to see that sentenced carried out.

Only the Emperor's mercy could stay the Executor's blade.

And the Emperor was dead.

Tag: @Darth_wanderguard

 

IC: Darth Haretisch -- Well of the Dark Side

Manticore was efficient, and had begun using the environment to his advantage. A stone fell, subtly guided by his telekinesis, and struck Haretisch on the shoulder as he approached. He was not deterred by the bloody abrasion that resulted. A blue beam met a red one with a crackle, and the combatants were caught in a bladelock. They were nearly equal in stature, though Haretisch was slightly more lithe and Manticore more muscled. The High Lord was younger too, and all else equal would have had the physical advantage over the graying Dark Lord if not for the latter's superior abilities in force augmentation. The advantages of each would seem to strike a balance, and neither would overpower the other in a purely physical contest.

At last Haretisch sprung back, and looked for an opening. There was none, only a counter. Manticore was relentless, his bladework an unforgiving cascade of attack and defense blended together seamlessly. But the betrayer had an advantage the High Lord could not match; his command of Pain was such that nothing short of decapitation would stop him now.

A crack sounded as a boot met his right knee. He simply growled and spat blood on the ground, kept upright by naught but rage and agony. He pivoted on his ruined limb to block the slash which followed, and felt more tendons rip. White hot misery shot from his knee to every corner of his body. He shifted again to block another attack, this one aimed to bisect him at the armpit. He stepped back and with a flourish brought his lightsaber around in a forceful parry to stave off the assault for a moment.

For all the advantages of a saberstaff, there was one glaring weakness. When facing square on, the length of the weapon's hilt made it a liability in close quarters, lacking maneuverability and leaving its user's midsection unprotected. It was this that the Night Herald sought to take advantage of as he stepped inward to crowd his opponent, and attacked with a series of thrusts aimed for his chest and stomach, careful to keep his weapon midline to defend against a counter. He would force Manticore to step back and face from the side, or risk his saberstaff being cleaved in half.

TAG: greyjedi125

 

IC: Darth Manticore
Well of Darkness. Well of Death.



The tremors continued because of the battle and despite of it. The two combatants were sealed in mortal combat. It continued to rain rocks and boulders, magma churned all around them, it bathed them in its haunting orange glow- caused the very air to blister.

But neither Manticore nor Haretisch paid heed to any of it.

There was only their battle.

The Night Herald and the Sith Battlelord. Both Sith Warriors. They were two examples of the martial elite within the Sith Empire. The zabrak earning his title and position by trials of fire. He now also honored the Sith Empire’s former Battlelord.

Darth Haretisch. The nagai Dark Lord received the zabrak’s brutality with aplomb. His body was already ravaged, yet he still took a vicious kick to his knee-nigh unflinching- and continued to fight on. He even matched the Battlelord’s parrying power, forcing a pause in the zabrak’s onslaught.

No one was present to witness this titanic clash- and no one needed to be.

In a reversal- faster than a blink of an eye- it was now the Night Herald who poured-on the pressure on his opponent. His attacks were fast, powerful and deliberately precise. Haretisch sought to exploit a tactical advantage against Manticore’s weapon of choice: The Saberstaff.

Darth Haretisch pressed the attack, moving forward, even with his now ruined leg. Pain was his fuel now. His thrusts and slashes forced the Battlelord to backpedal, lest his chest and stomach were ran through. In less than a second, Haretisch managed to stab Manticore once, twice, three times. Once in the chest and twice in the abdomen-but the zabrak was already moving back and furiously employing a figure eight parrying defense.

Manticore grit his teeth in pain, but not much else. Zabraks were infamously possessed of a high threshold for pain, and thanks to Lord Anguish, Manticore’s ability to not only withstand pain, but transform it, were almost without measure- not unlike the Dark Lord he now faced.

Pain was indeed fuel and adrenalin was fire for the flame.

Still, Haretisch’s tactic would have been successful-if it were not for one detail.

Manticore purposefully took a stabbing thrust to his forearm, as he used his appendage to 'block' his opponent’s searing blue blade. The attack would have hit a vital organ otherwise. To him, the injury to his arm might as well be a gnat bite by comparison. In that same moment, with a subtle movement of his wrists, Manticore’s saberstaff split and became two weapons. Manticore was now dual wielding lightsabers!

Without slowing his momentum, the Battlelord suddenly pivoted and spun low in a single motion. He lashed out with a reverse sweep of his leg to his opponent's feet in order to unbalance him ( and hoping to further damage the already injured leg), even as he slashed horizontally with his leading arm-seeking an evisceration. The High Lord’s trailing weapon was held in a reverse grip, coming up a split second behind the initial slash in a hard parrying motion.

The Stygian Executor knew better than to underestimate the Night Herald. One mistake was all it took for one or the other to perish. The smoking marks in his torso and arm were clear indicators of that fatal reality. That’s why Manticore maneuvered himself to a spot where a falling boulder might just catch his opponent off-guard, or create the opening he needed to end this charade.

It was time to finish it.

Once and for all.


Tag: @Darth_wanderguard

 

IC: Darth Haretisch -- Well of the Dark Side

Darth Haretisch hated many things. The Jedi Order. Darth Vassago. The Republic. Desert planets. Sullustans. Indeed he was consumed by hate, but higher on that list than most was combating saberstaff wielders. Too much leverage, too much speed with too little effort. The weapon had its weaknesses, but the areas in which it excelled, it was impossible to match.

To that interest, his aggressive maneuver had worked; Manticore was no longer employing his saberstaff. At the moment the last of the Night Herald's thrusts landed, burning a hole in the High Lord's forearm, the weapon split at its user's command, and he now held a single blade in each clenched fist. He countered quickly, pivoting to sweep at the betrayer's injured leg, and following with a swipe at his stomach.

In any other situation, Haretisch might have leapt clear over Manticore's head and lashed out at him in midair. But even as his pain fed him, he knew his limits. His focus was consumed by keeping himself alive in spite of otherwise mortal injuries - and equally on overcoming the indomitable Manticore. The state of his knee was surely a liability moreso than ever, and while he could overcome any amount of pain, he would do no good with a limb damaged to the point of utter uselessness, as might have resulted from crazed acrobatics.

And so he stayed relatively planted, and simply lifted his leading leg over the sweep. Efficiency of movement was becoming a concern and a focus. He gripped with both hands to block the horizontal slash that followed, and countered with lightning quickness only to find his movement anticipated. His attack was parried with more force than he expected. He relented to recover, only for a short moment, and then stepped in again intending to press the attack. He found his way blocked by a falling stone. Angrily he tossed it aside with a wave.

Time was short. Every attack now was aimed to kill.

And Force Lightning had but one purpose.

Writhing, *****-hot tendrils of electricity erupted from his fingertips en route to Manticore. The very same attack which, only minutes before, had reduced Syren and a weakened Lorekeeper to charred husks in only a few moments.

TAG: greyjedi125

OOC: Really? "White" is censored?

 

IC: Darth Manticore
Mortis: Ender’s game

The defining beauty about martial combat, was the simple fact that it was akin a game of chess. Not unlike Dejarik. Strength, speed, accuracy, cunning, patience, opportunity, sacrifice. All these elements and more were present. And just like in less lethal exchanges, such encounters could go on for sometime when engaged by those who were masters.

This encounter was no different.

Finally, the moment Manticore had been anticipating arrived.

Darth Haretisch slew both Darth Syren and the Lorekeeper with a single, powerful gesture. Things might have turned out different if he had not caught them by surprise. That situational advantage was a considerable difference here, since Manticore was already prepared for the sudden attack.

The Night Herald, despite his deteriorating condition, had defended against the Battlelord’s lightsaber prowess with incalculable skill. Who would believe such a report?

The falling boulder missed its mark and was swiftly tossed aside by Haretisch.

Then, it happened.

Writhing, white hot tendrils of electricity erupted from the Triumvir’s fingertips. So brilliant was the torrential flash, that it was nearly blinding. The strobing lights of bristling fury, caused the boulders who payed silent witness to their battle, to cast long shadows.

Manticore took the hit full on as he roared out his full rage, answering with his own savage fury, as he rushed the ‘momentarily vulnerable’ Dark Lord.

How?

The zabrak High Lord and Stygian Executor was a true Battlelord. Though he never faced the Night Herald in battle before this day, he had done so many times in his own mindscape, preparing for such an unlikely eventuality. Not just against the Night Herald, but against all capable members of the Sith. This was simply the nature of his being.

But in truth, the Night Herald and the Battlelord were too evenly matched.

Victory could only come at the expense of the other combatant’s mistake, and not without risk.

But Manticore found his answer. One of many, in fact.

In this specific instance; it was a question of force and elemental natures. To put it simply: Fire is plasma and plasma conducts electricity. As a Master of pyrokenisis, Manticore found that against lesser sith, he could negate the effects of their skill completely. No such thing was true against Darth Haretisch however- the Dark Lord was far too powerful a being.

What he could do, was diminish the damage he took, as long as he was not caught by surprise by such an attack. That way, he would not end as a dead smoking ruin- but a living one.

It was so that Manticore rushed through the torrential lightning attack, feeling himself being cooked, but not deterred. He too moved like lightning-fully exploiting the opening-teeth now chattering. Manticore allowed his rage to explode! There was pain-much pain, but pain was an old companion, and it too fueled him.

In a blink of an eye, the zabrak Battlelord was upon his opponent. He performed simultaneous downward vertical chops, intending to remove both Haretisch’s arms at the shoulders, then crossed his searing blades inwards, to surgically bisect his torso.

All the while, Haretisch’s power burned his very flesh and caused his garments to catch fire. But his rage kept him from succumbing to the worst of the onslaught.

Darth Bellorum was partially to thank for his performance, since she had supplied enough energy for such a feat to be performed at a time of his choosing.

But now, the two combatants were ruined, ragged, and mortally wounded.

The question that remained was, if one or both would perish? Who would enter into the void?

Tag: Darth_wanderguard

 

IC: Darth Cocytus: Son's Tower

Darth Cocytus continued slaughtering cult members and decimatimg them with sith lightning. This wasn't war. This was sport. Then he felt a presence. A strong presence unlike anything he felt. The kaminoan finished off what remained of this foes with a final blast of blue lightning, before looking up. His eyes widened and furrowed upon the being before him. Abeloth, mother of the Ones, who drank from the pool of the light and the well of darknes fighting several sith including the Emperor. Now, however, there was no longer an Emperor.

Darth Cocytus shrugged off the possible deaths of his fellow Sith, except for his own of course. Only the weak shall perish and no true Sith truly cares for one another except for themselves in the Kaminoan's mind. After all, their deaths only meant more power and knowledge for himself as long as the Order itself survived. Not even the Sith Emperor's death bothered him in the slightest, for he knew he'll just come back to continue the Empire as always. Long Live Emperor Darth Insipid. he thought with cold indifference, before blinking as his hyper-awareness detected an attack of red lightning from the abomination that was Abeloth.

In swift movements, Cocytus summoned and ignited both his crimson blades and blocked the attack as he crossed them. Is that the best you got, 'Mother'? he thought as his lightsabers absorbed the red lightning, his fear turning into anger and his anger into ice cold venomous hatred for his monstrous foe, I swear by full power of dark side we will drive you back to the cesspit from which you came and we shall destroy Typhogem. I will never fall. The Sith shall never fall. For we are as eternal just as you are.
Tag: Blade Squadron

 

Draconis
Mortis - Son's Tower - Veranda/Courtyard of the Queen Mother

The surrounding courtyard of the Son’s Tower was awash with the black wave spewing from Abeloth as it spanned out smashing into everything in its path. It was unavoidable. Draconis was hit with the rising tide as it lifted him up and blew him back. Debris, bodies… the living and the dead all caught up in the massive push. Sweeping the transports and fighters that had landed at the onset of the Tower assault off the edge, sending them cascading and tumbling down the sheer drop at the edge of the veranda surrounding the Tower.

The landing was hard and followed by a tumbling and rolling until coming to a sliding stop. Despite it all his body was numb to it all.

The pain.

The swirling black vortex of black clouds above was a remarkable sight as he looked up, stumbling to his feet. Draconis gathering himself as he looked down noticing he had been only a few feet from sliding off the sheer cliff edge at the courtyards end of this side of the Tower.

The end of the line.

A trail of blood was flowing down his right arm as he peered down upon it watching as the droplets fell off his fingers tips. Draconis reached across with his left hand grasping a jagged chunk of shrapnel imbedded in his arm. Grasping and wrenching it free with a sudden and quick pull. Clenching his fist as the blood flow, the flow seemingly reverting back up… healing.

Draconis was standing through sheer will, dizzy as he blinked trying to focus. He could feel Abeloth across the yard, as suspected still writhing and… alive. Draconis had felt the presences of the others pushed to the brink as well.

Draconis took a step forward and stumbled, his knees giving out as he fell forward. Abeloth’s wave of Mnngal had sought him out first – looking to strike him down after… the Emperor… gone? Draconis felt his signature but changed… still feeling him but not here. Draconis leaned against a large piece of stone debris cast across the courtyard to its present place, as he breathed heavily. Draconis clenched his fists, and gritted his teeth, having initially not felt the effects of the black Mnngal wave unleashed upon them all, with the effects rising to the forefront as he concentrated on the pain and damage inflicted.

Crimson lightning surging outward...

Draconis drew the pain in, concentrating everything on the darkness surrounding this place to conceal him… and to hold onto and anchor himself.

The raging vortex above funneling energy into this place. Tapped into and seized upon. A grand funnel of energy as the darkness swirled above. Despite visible gains… They were losing! Avatars cut down, ground gained… all meant nothing. The battle raged on many fronts as pieces moved, drawing closer to an inevitable meeting of finality.
Draconis stumbled and staggered as he let loose a cough, blood spurting from his mouth as he caught it in the crook of his arm. There was no hiding the fact that he was near the void of shadows. Death itself. But that is where he dwelt and Draconis had no superior in such, nor had he no parallel for disappearing and dwelling in such.

Draconis rose up stumbling initially forward a few paces… gradually gathering himself more and more with each step.


Darkness and shadows…

@Sinrebirth A Blind Prophet Darth_Elu E. L.Knight Darth Cocytus WookieeRage DarthIshyZ Darth Kronos Snokers HanSolo29

 

IC: Darth Hesper
Mortis

The rest of Shadow Squadron converged on the large veranda—though both Jwob and Ike were nowhere to be seen. Jwob’s presence was… somewhere else entirely, but Ike was somewhere close, just out of sight. Arach, Bellorum, Kwea and Zalen all gathered on the ledge, moving swiftly towards the entrance of the Monastery.

Hesper’s insides churned. Her face stung, and the empty, non-existent memory of the vision she had had aboard the Chimaera tugged at the back of her mind. How she wished she could remember it! Disgruntled and visibly upset, Hesper pushed away her concerns to focus on what was at hand: the Battle of Mortis.

“What are your orders?” she heard Arach call out to Bellorum.

“We get the dagger, then we end Abeloth. There’s no time to waste,” Bellorum said steadily, taking a step forward. Then she faltered—she had seen Ike. “Ike!” She gasped, and beckoned to the squadron before sprinting towards Ike. “Come on!”

Hesper turned her good eye in the direction Bellorum was running. Sure enough, there Ike was, collapsed by the entrance. She immediately got the sense from him that while he appeared fine on the outside, something was torn and ragged on the inside. But as soon as Bellorum reached the man, a throng of cultists appeared from the shadows. Hesper instinctively ignited her crimson blade, and quickened her pace to meet the cultists head-on. Her left thumb discreetly disengaged the safety on her blaster, as well. Just in case.

Keeping her blaster in hand, Hesper hacked her way through the first wave of cultists, red blade lithely deflecting bolts and slicing through flesh. A disquieted rage bubbled in her chest as her mind continued to gnaw on what might have happened in her vision-world. She felt stricken with the feeling that much time had passed, though she knew none had—what, then, had happened? And what had happened to scar her so badly? With a snarl, Hesper slashed down and through a cultist.

“Shield yourselves!” Lady Bellorum bellowed, as soon as a deep rumble reached Hesper’s ears.

It began to rain.

Not actual rain, of course, but scarabs. Scarabs of stone with teeth like jagged pins, scurrying and skittering. They coruscated en masse on the ground, swarming the group’s boots and legs. The downpour of beetles continued, and as Hesper unthinkingly held up her blaster hand to shield her head, she felt a stinging, excruciating bite radiate through her hand, from the fleshy part of her hand just below the pinky. Hesper cried out in pain and immediately shook the creature from her hand.

Bellorum was saying something, but the scuttling of the beetles was too loud to hear over. Then, Bellorum launched a flaming orb into the swarm of beetles and they scurried off—directly towards Ike. Bellorum then yelled, loud enough to hear this time: “Save him!”

She, Arach and Zalen sprang into action. Arach reached Ike first, and protectively crouched in front of him before… collapsing. Hesper put more power in her legs, and ran faster towards Ike and Arach. She stopped briefly over Arach to check on the High Lord—though she was simply unconscious, Hesper feared for what battle might be raging on the inside. “Have strength, Lady Arach,” Hesper murmured as she passed her by and took up the defense of Ike. She batted away the tiny creatures with her blade quickly and deftly, and was utterly dismayed when a fresh stream of cultists added themselves to the mix. And as if she didn’t already have enough to deal with, Abeloth—Hesper’s breath caught painfully in her chest—made it very clear that her presence was present.

But it was then that Ike stirred—then with a lunge and a wink, dove into the fray. Hesper barked a laugh and followed after. She didn’t know Ike well, but she was sure she was beginning to appreciate him. The wily bastard. She did her best to match him and cover for him—he was fighting in the Makashi style, which was not exactly cut out for mass slaughter. But that was no concern for Hesper. It just so happened that she was an expert in killing en masse.

Hesper reveled in the fight. She was quick and light on her feet, twisting and dancing about, lightsaber a blur and blaster blazing, using the Force as often as she did her blade. Her form was loose and wild, like a raging storm of wrath and fury. She felled cultists and fended off scarabs nonstop, though she knew that her bolts weren’t landing as precisely as they used to—due in part to Hesper’s halved field of vision. It was a shame, really. When she was an artist on Coruscant, she felt that more often than not, the media focused on Hesper’s looks just as often as it did her art. She had been considered a beauty back then, and now—

Suddenly, Hesper heard Ike plunge his blade through flesh, much nearer to her ear than she was comfortable with. She turned her head to the side to see what had happened, and sure enough, Ike had his saber through a neck, a broad smile slapped across his face, obviously enjoying herself.

Hesper giggled. She was enjoying herself, too. But she knew, however, that deep within her something had changed. The mortal danger she was facing that very instant would be shaking her to her core any other time, but now, instead of angrily fearing loss, Hesper’s inner turmoil had been… well, not silenced, but instead honed to a fine, precise blade, or perhaps a laser. Her focus was razor-sharp, and she basked in the glory of the fight. Her body sang with bloodlust, to be satisfied with nothing other than destruction and victory. Though her left eye was blinded, and thus her body slightly broken, perhaps she was more whole than ever before.

With a coarse, gleeful yell, Hesper dove forward into the melee with more vigor than before. And though she felt changed, one thing would always remain the same for Hesper: she did not like to lose.

TAG: Sinrebirth, Lady Belligerent, Shadow Squadron

 

OOC: Enjoy the Dark Tale of the End. Another fragment given upon you by myself and Sinrebirth.



Darth Invidius, Esmeralda, & Abeloth IC:
~Son's Tower, Total Chaos Lighted by the Red Glow of Death~

Esmerelda rushed forward as all hell commenced. Abeloth was getting impossibly stronger, and had taken down the Emperor, Anark, Ravenous, and Teafa. Everyone was out of position but Invidius. Steeling herself in spite of his ferociousness, she rushed forward to the Ssi-Ruu with a medkit in hand. Apparently she had acquired the skills of a nurse while she had been in limbo.

But she didn't have time for a once over or a care. She simply rushed up to Invidius and spat words. 'You need to get up and be a Sith already.' She didn't even let him respond before she spoke again. 'You can threaten to eat me later!'

As he charged forth toward Abeloth let loose his first slashing attack, the Dark Celestial simply evaded with astonishing speed. One moment she was in range, the next she was inside his guard. Invidius' eyes only could manage a single blink of surprise. His mind began to react, barely, but his body didn't have the ability to keep up.

"Be Gone."

And then there were stars and suddenly, he was nowhere near his opponent. Not to mention his head felt like it was exploding with pain, forcing him to grit his teeth together and even draw some blood from that alone. But he had to get up. He had to continue to fight! This…this was his chance...

Slowly he tried to stand, only to sink back into the wall he find himself nestled into. The idea that he might not want to see what had become of himself presented itself in his mind, but he growled weakly to attempt to ignore the fact.

Need to fight this…need to fight her...

"You need to get up and be a Sith already."

Who the? Some human woman, whom he faintly recalled from the briefing in the Chimaera, appeared out of nowhere. His right eye that was closest to seeing her, refocused on her, trying to make sense of what was going on. He opened his mouth--

"You can threaten to eat me later!"

His sore jaw closed again. Not exactly what he was going to do, but the thought was amusing. And if a thought could still be amusing in this situation, then he still had spirit in him. This time when he opened his mouth to speak, he did so, now eyeing the medkit in her hands. That mystery was solved.

"Just do what you need to then…Get. Me. In. The. Fight."

His tail whipped the floor once in emphasis.

She unpacked swiftly and drew an adrenaline shot. Esmerelda suddenly realised even her inherited skills did not include saurian species. Esmerelda shrugged mentally. They all had to take risks.

She found a seam in his hide around the throat and injected him. The adrenaline would surge within him, erasing the fatigue that had seized him as his body struggled against pain that he couldn't yet feel.

Wait.

A single thought echoed in Invidius' mind, preventing him from moving his body. It was one he would recognise from his dream-vision. Enjoy watching. The death of the Sith Order is at hand. You cannot stop it, cannot slow it, cannot influence events.

Esmerelda, not aware of Typhojem's influence, suddenly panicked, rummaging in her field kit. Had she just killed the Ssi-Ruu? Tears glistened as she watched Abeloth cackle with glee and electrify the Order. Cocytus and Draconis were straining, but Hel and Kronos were down. This was not going well at all.

Were they finished?

He jerked once at the injection, mainly due to the pain he was already feeling, and grunted. Within seconds he felt the adrenaline shot course through him….and something else.

A small growl emitted from his throat audibly, his body frozen. That thing. That being. That Typhojem was attempting to get in his way again. And he spoke of the Sith Order's death?

It didn't look good, this was blatantly true. Abeloth stood, immensely powerful, frying anyone she pleased. Only two were left standing against her, barely holding out. Cocytus and another he didn't recognize, but had briefly helped against one of her avatars before moving to help the Emperor. Who was now dead anyway.

The woman's tears appeared, but he didn't care about that. She did what she could, now he had to do what he could. There were only two left against the Celestial…two that she was aware of at any rate. Oh, she was powerful. So powerful...

*Ba Bump*

How magnificent a being, in all their glory could do that against the entire Sith Order...

*Ba Bump*

His tail whipped again suddenly.

….You underestimate the Force, "Lord." You underestimate me. I told you once before. She is MINE. YOU are MINE!

Gathering the Force all over his body, attempting to push the adrenaline through all the more and wrap himself in it as an enhancement in all areas. His rage and his desire radiating off of him once more. Strength, speed, durability, senses, reaction time. He needed them all boosted to the max. No. BEYOND!

MINE! SHAVIT!

Drawing upon the Force within him, within the very darkness in the Tower that was of the Son…His eyes sharpened. The Son.

If you're there, time to help against your Mother. Feed me the Dark Side, give me your essence! It's time to end this. NOW!

With every ounce of his strength and more, Invidius tried to stand. The first step in the end game.

There was no answer.

Should there have been?

His body was elusively placed.

Hidden? Concealed? Lost? The Dagger of Mortis... Did it erase their very existence?

But the act of resistance was incredible, because Typhojem was there, and close, so very close.

Perhaps the Son did reach out and help. Perhaps Invidius did it on his own. Perhaps Typhojem was distracted by another more opportune threat.

Or perhaps it was Esmerelda, who had rapidly lost her nerve, shut the metal box and smashed it upwards, clipping Invidius jaw with a desperate cry. 'Wake up!'

Those two words echoed the loudest. He summoned his great inner will, savage and predatorily. He resisted a God of the Sith. Beseeched the Celestial Son.

And it was Esmeralda who seemed to get the final say. Or did she? It was so hard to tell and it no longer mattered.

With a grunt, and a shake of the head that he knew was going to be pounding the next day (so long as he lived to see it), Invidius was up once more. He didn't look at the woman, his eyes were trained on Abeloth, gleefully frying away.

"Thanks."

That was all he said, all he needed to say.

He had lost the saber Manticore had given him in that strike, yet he found a new one miraculously somehow attached to his bandolier. By dumb luck, or through the Force, it was a special blade that had been tossed to him by some miraluka woman and found its way inconceivably there at some point while attacking his prey. In any event, he grasped it now.

Relying on all of his power, all of his instincts, and all of that avarice that made him him. He drew the Force in on himself and enacted Force Stealth to the highest degree he could and used his concealment to his advantage for the time being. He waited for the right moment. It wasn't right then. But it wasn't far off either due to the dire straits they were all in. Seconds possibly, but he needed to get in close unseen.

If he vanished from the medic's sight without explanation, she'd just have to get over it. There was something he had to do and it was more than just slay the enemy before them all. There was something more. And it had to be done a certain way. Invidius wanted, needed, to strike both the physical…and the spiritual.

He waited for that perfect moment. It wouldn't be long now, for quite likely the entire Sith Order's Fate rested in his hands at that time.

The whole universe's Fate.

Abeloth chuckled darkly, and Esmerelda waved for her attention. 'Hey, blondie. I had a good chat with your betrothed while he controlled me. Do you know how much you featured in those conversations? The love is his life?'

Abeloth turned, keeping one tentacle pouring energy into Blade Squadron, overpowering them. She glared.

'Not one. At all. I don't think you even cross his thoughts, sister. Maybe you should pick wait for the guy to propose next time?' Esmerelda tried not to let her fear show. She had to be brave. She had to be.

Abeloth gathered the Force to crush Esmerelda; to rip her limb from limb, fluttering her tentacles so.

She wanted Kronos to see this.

She was in complete control.

Invidius kept himself to the shadows. And watched the scene play out. Evidently, the nurse had some guts. Preventing a laugh from bubbling forth and giving away his position, he allowed himself to grin in approval. Granted, that also meant this girl was quite likely in trouble since it actually seemed to get Abeloth's attention.

At least she can read the situation well. Just a second or two longer...

He felt the Force being gathered and the saurian had a rough idea what was about to transpire. The Dark side flowed through him. Still he waited.

Till that exact moment before it was about to happen. His scent-tongues flared out just then and--

*Ba-Bump!*

NOW!

From his vantage point that he snuck to, Darth Invidius leapt from the shadows at last. Claws out, fangs gleaming, blood trailing behind in mid-flight. And the lightsaber, not knowing it once belonged to Visas Marr, ignited just as it was in range of Abeloth. Blade and claws desperately hoping to find purchase before the crushing was to take the life of the one who helped him keep his. His jaw clamping down on her shoulder as extra insurance.

His mind stretched out to her once more.

MINE!

She was too strong. He had to wait for the chance to strike her spirit, for now he had one mission.

To hang on with everything he had.

Abeloth let him. She took him in, and she ensnared him. In reality, her second limb enmeshed wrists and ankles and a throat, gripping him tightly even before his blade bit. The claws did not perturb her as they slashed at her limbs and drew forth blood, a tentacle looping around his snout.

But it had been to no avail. She rebuffed him from her mind and clutched the Ssi-Ruu tight. 'I am so much more than Sith, my dear Invidius.

'Accept defeat.' The bind was complete. She had him. Esmerelda held her face as tears streamed down.

They'd lost.

With a scream, knowing Kronos would freak out if he was conscious enough to see. She grabbed the scalpel and ran at Abeloth. A tentacle moved and grabbed her throat; releasing Invidius' jaw. When Abeloth had her full attention and wits to hand, she was divine.

Was hope lost?

Ensnared. Trapped. Lured in and caught, the prey had turned predator after all. And the predator, prey. His claws and blade bit, but did nothing and all movement was disabled further. His snout was grabbed, he couldn't even speak.

She was so much more than Sith. His eyes widened, his nostrils flared.

But that was why…That was why I...

His tail was free still and it swished angrily. The woman was rushing forward, uselessly. He had failed? Failed!?
Greed transformed in that instant. It was anger. It was fury. It was rage. The Force made his body tremble, not that it mattered, he cast about recklessly for everything. Anything around them. To grasp, to fling straight back at Abeloth.

Her tentacle released his snout and grasped the medic.

Somehow though, somehow he had to bide time…to find a new opening. There. There had to be another opening.

Right?

"If you are so much more," he whispered near to her ear due to the release of his jaw, "Show me. Bring me to your realm, let me see this greatness of yours."

He said this, he wanted this. It was part of his plan. But it was all so not how he designed it. Was it really a plan anymore then? Was it really a design sprout forth from his own hopes?

A desperate illusion? A lie told to a dying man from his own lips? A comfort, a shroud to the truth?

Or was there a chance for all to be made right in that last of seconds...

Would she allow him to see beyond to the realm he heard so much about? And if she did...

What would he see there? An opportunity to make things right? To blaze his name forevermore in history as he turned the tide against such a foe!

Or the essence of dread and humiliation made real?

In the Tower of the Son, only Darkness would reign.


Tag: A Blind Prophet Sinrebirth E. L.Knight Darth Cocytus WookieeRage DarthIshyZ Darth Kronos Snokers HanSolo29 dragonsith13

 

SUPER C-C-C-C-COMBO! By (In order of initial writing appearance) Sinrebirth, A Blind Prophet, Snokers, Wookierage, Moonspun Dragon and E. L. Knight

IC: Abeloth, Insipid, Teafa, Anark, Ravenous, Arach, Hades/ Elsewhere Beyond the Shadows/ Mortis

There was a drop, and then Abeloth and Insipid and Anark were not alone Beyond the Shadows; they were joined by Teafa.

A spectral tentacle unfurled, and she gestured at Teafa as she arrived. In this realm her second sight was her actual sight, and apparent would be the coloured tether between Insipid and Anark but not him and her.

Abeloth was mid-chuckle. 'And now I have a Sith who wishes to be my Daughter. Both apprentices of yours, Emperor, current and former.'

Abeloth eyed Anark, and grinned her dark grin. 'Perhaps I should have made you the Father, Emperor. Perhaps you would have wet my appetites, if Typhojem was not divine.'

A flutter of a tentacle, and Teafa was forcibly yanked close and a limb wrapped around both her wrists, locking them painfully against each other as Abeloth yanked Teafa up to eye level.

'What do you offer me, little girl?'

Insipid could only glower with concern. He had a hole in his chest, and it was a spiritual wound, not a simple matter of a trance and a quick fix. Anark and Teafa would have a lot of the work to do here if they were to survive.

Teafa was completely unsure what had happened. One moment she was calling out to Abeloth, and the next she found herself... wherever here was. It was all Force essence, as near as she could tell, and as such it all seemed remarkably solid to her, but at the same time there were wisps pulling away from everything that she could see. Looking at her clothes, she could see the same thing, a defined outline with streams pulling off of it in some ethereal wind that also pulled at the core her very being.

Focusing her sight, she tried to locate everyone else at the Son's Tower, and found herself locked in to this location. By Ashla, where am I? She had literally never been so trapped in a single location in her life, even the trip to Morabund had been less claustrophobic to her in the sense that she could at least see well beyond the walls of her cell.

She wasn't given long to attempt to understand what was going on, felt others there as well as she had expanded her focus. She felt Insipid, her master, another sith who's name she did not know, and Abeloth in her truest form of tentacles and a smile that spread far across the moon of her face with her jagged teeth gnawing on something. Following the trail of the Force she saw that it connected to Insipid... and that he had a hole in his chest. She's eating him! But it wasn't just that, she was eating his essence, part of his power. Curiously she saw a similar connection between Insipid and the other sith. Checking, she noticed no such lines connecting her to anything in this place.

Abeloth waved her over, and she realized exactly how seriously her offer had been taken. So much for a distraction. While she had no actual proof, she strongly suspected that none of them were leaving this place completely intact. But then that had always been the expected outcome of this assault, desperate as it was. She listened as she approached slowly, finding out that the other was also Insipid's apprentice, though former. It was also interesting that Abeloth called her a sith, even though she felt like she was far from such herself. Her power in the Force was certainly of a vastly different tenor from those that she had traveled here with.

Looking the situation over, she realized that there was exactly the ingredients for what Abeloth suggested, a family unit. But it seemed improbable that Abeloth would subjugate herself to a Father that could not force her to do so. And it was rapidly becoming apparent that Insipid was simply incapable of actually doing so, the loss of his essence strongly pointing to that. If he had been strong enough she never would have been able to consume part of him in the first place. And what mortal could contend with a god in the first place? But that didn't really explain why she was there, beyond what she had said. And then she was jerked off of her feet and dragged over to Abeloth.

Wincing as her wrists were ground painfully together, though how spirit could be so physical was beyond her, she was dangled in front of Abeloth, examined like some virus beneath a microscope. Teafa could feel Abeloth gazing into the core of her being, and she fully anticipated being found wanting. Something that had surprised her in an way odd was the texture of Abeloth's tentacle, as it wasn't as disgusting as she would have expected. Instead it was almost silky smooth, while remaining strong as durasteel.

In response to the question she had been asked Teafa said, "I offer the only thing anyone can, myself. Love can't come from anywhere else, and anything attempting to counterfeit it is more worthless than the space between the stars." Ashla guide me. She could still feel herself connected to the Force the same way as when she had defeated the wookiee, and she continued to pull upon her hopes, her love, the very essence of what she perceived to be good itself.

Abeloth snorted. 'A Daughter of Light, and a Son of Darkness.' She cast a glance to Anark. 'But what of this one?'

All of a sudden another dropped into their world Beyond the Shadows. Abeloth was powerful enough now to maintain a whole realm within herself.

And as such she could pull them down with a whim. This time she dragged Darth Arach, High Lord of the Sith, into the depths. 'This one is more interesting. A Dark Daughter, for a Dark Family of Ones. Do I need a light in that family?' Abeloth tossed Teafa up high, to land with a painful crunch unless she used the Force to cushion her fall. 'This one,' Abeloth said, with a look to Insipid again. 'Talon told me all about before I consumed her soul. How Arach joined the Rule of Two to avenge herself on you, what with you having killed her former masters. That she intended revenge upon you.' Abeloth appeared beside Arach, placed a tentacle on her cheek as she came to. 'Would not her treachery be more fitting to be my Daughter?'

Darth Insipid felt his insides go cold. He had not anticipated this wave of potential treachery. He cast an eye to Teafa, also seeking to join the Family of the Ones. Or was she subtler than even Insipid gave her credit for? Again Insipid had a subtle trail of a connection to Arach, but not Teafa... But as Insipid glanced, he saw a connection from Teafa to... Ravenous? A... Life debt? Insipid could not decide whether to be incredulous or concerned.

Perhaps she could tug Ravenous into this realm to assist them?

Abeloth was still talking to herself. 'Or perhaps I have decided on a Son too soon. Perhaps Hades, who has surpassed death, would make a better Son than Anark?' With a forceful tug - forceful; because he was more beyond her than he was before, thanks to Ravenous, she sought to draw him into this Beyond the Shadows realm. But she might tug along Ravenous, and draw him into unconsciousness also, due to his connection to his former, late, master.

Insipid watched as Abeloth slowly, but surely, drew the Sith Order into her realm. She was more powerful than ever, and she was taking advantage of their connections, of their bonds, of the very strength the Emperor had woven into the Order itself, to defeat it.

Teafa wasn't terribly surprised at someone else being pulled into this mess of a situation, and she was rapidly wishing she hadn't put herself in the middle of it quite so thoroughly. But she was here, so she would have to do what she could to defeat Abeloth, pitiable or not. What she hadn't expected was to be thrown into the air. She managed to avoid screaming, and let the Force guide her in slowing her descent to the ground. It wasn't graceful until she rolled forward, but at least she hadn't hurt herself... if that were actually possible here.

Watching as Abeloth continued talking, Teafa saw what she did as she pulled yet another person into this place, Ravenous master Hades. What she found even more interesting was that she saw a line running out of herself to Ravenous as well, and she added her own, much smaller tug, into what Abeloth was doing. Ravenous being here would help somehow, she was sure of it.

Turning her attention fully back to Abeloth, since Ravenous would do what he did, she replied to the question concerning the other woman. The dark woman, who blazed with the power of the darkside. "But would she love you like a mother? Where is the love that you claim to want in this family that you're putting together?" She was hoping to keep Abeloth talking instead of uplifting anyone. Or eating anyone. At least that gave them a chance to actually do something themselves.

Anark cast his eyes to Teafa. Was she willingly offering herself up out of fear?

"Spineless wretch!" he muttered under his breath, unable to find any sympathy for one so small and in the dawn of her career.

He turned his attention back to Abeloth, inching his way slowly towards Insipid as he spoke.

"Queen Abeloth, a different son? Hades?" he bellowed a dark rumble of laughter, fighting to keep his own fear from shining through the cracks of the facade he was performing. "My chosen name alone should suggest a divine fellowship with The Bringer of Chaos herself!"

He inched his way closer and closer towards the Emperor's shadowy form, attempting to plant a thought in Teafa's mind through the Force to follow him and in turn tug Ravenous along with her through their link. Whether Force use was even possible in this place he did not know and surely Abeloth would be able to sense a communication through it in her own realm she had built. They were well and truly in her house now. But his options were few and he was improvising, whatever was about to take place here, they would stand more of a chance of prevailing if they were all together.

Ravenous was mid swing, continuing to slice down cultist after cultist when out of the corner of his eyes he saw a ghostly figure. It could have been his imagination, or it could have been something else entirely. To accompany the apparition, he had heard a wavering, yet powerful voice of familiarity.

FINISH IT..

He jumped over the outskirts of the Cultist ranks to give him a few seconds to think what he would do next. There was a Cliffside behind him now as he faced the remaining foes. He remembered the Dreamscape he had been drawn into when Hades first died and he knew Abeloth would use the same technique here. Ravenous knew she was lurking in some sort of alternate dimension. As the Cultists closed in upon the Wookiee, he snarled drifting backwards off the cliff and into the Dreamscape. He cared nothing for his Corporeal life and all for revenge against that monstrosity that took his Master, Hades. He also felt Taefa was in trouble, their life-debt stronger than just words. It had turned into a Force-bond.

The first thing Arach became aware of was that she was not in the monastery.

The second was of a sensation of something on her cheek. Something like a hand, but was too narrow and thick and pointed, more like a tail.

The third was of someone standing over her talking. A female voice. It took Arach a couple moments to wake up enough and focus on what the voice was saying.

"...treachery be more fitting to be my Daughter?"

Arach's eyes snapped open and immediately rolled in the opposite direction to stand, putting as much distance as possible between herself and Abeloth. With her mind at full alert, she assumed a defensive stance. The creature didn't seem to notice as she wondered about her choice in Sons.

Taking a brief moment, Arach quickly glanced around, noticing she was not alone. She saw Insipid immediately, then she found another man some distance away from the Emperor, a Wookiee that just appeared, and, finally, another woman who was apparently blind. Arach's gaze returned to Abeloth. Nice random blend, she thought, with some sarcasm.

The High Lord's gaze flickered towards Insipid. Hoping to buy him a few minutes to come up with something to get out of here preferably alive, Arach sighed and adopted a bored expression. Well, time to be that guy. "Hey, Abeloth!" she called out. "Is it ok if you recap for those of us just joining this party?"

Insipid growled. 'She was just regaling me with the tale of how you were apprenticed to Darth Talon as a revenge ploy against me?' Insipid, still holding his chest, backed away from her and Abeloth. 'She thought you'd make a good Daughter for that little effort?'

Anark gasped, a gasp that quickly erupted into a mad snigger as he covered his mouth with both hands then pointed over to Arach, eyes wide and accusing.

While the others were wandering away from Abeloth, Teafa began to get a new idea. One that would require her to be very close to Abeloth. Within touching distance. Far too close to really escape, should it be necessary, and far to close for comfort. But given the overall situation, it seemed like something desperate was going to be called for, as the plan to tear them all apart seemed to be working. It seemed to be an inherent problem with the Sith in general, from what history she had read. So she began walking closer to Abeloth, looking as desirous of being part of the family as she could.

Abeloth looked at Anark, disapprovingly, and an exertion in the Force slammed him flat to the ground. 'Tell him, Daughter. Tell him why.' She rolled an eye to Hades and Ravenous, presenting her back to Arach. 'And what of the master and the apprentice who hate each other? The apprentice who completed his training alone? The master whose corpse was despoiled? Which one will make a better Son for me?'

Darth Insipid kept his eyes on Arach.

"Oh, was she?" Arach responded, keeping her eyes on Abeloth. "Well, thank you, for clearing the air, Abe." As she spoke, a germ of an idea took hold in her mind. She hoped Insipid and everyone else will let her live long enough for her to finish.

Arach relaxed her stance and started to stalk her way closer to the- Injured?- Sith Emperor. "Honestly, Emperor, what did you expect? I was trained by Dreadwar." Outwardly, she let a cold, triumphant smirk twist her lips. Inwardly, she winced. "He taught me everything. Especially, how to play one level higher." Please, understand. she thought. "You should be grateful."

While trying not to wince at what was being said, Teafa continued moving closer to Abeloth, trying to radiate nothing but hope and love. Just a little bit closer... Ashla, help everyone be ready. A fawning expression was held on her face, which she hoped looked natural.

The smited Sith on the black floor began to catch on with what was happening, the cogs were turning. He pulled himself along using his arms to heave the rest of his body, still sniggering but pursing his lips shut to stop it escaping audibly through his mouth.

Out of the corner of her eye, Arach saw the other woman making her way toward Abeloth. The assassin stepped up her pace ever so slightly, hoping to reach Insipid at the same time as the seemingly blind woman reached Abeloth.

In the background of the Shadowy stage emerged a Wookiee, both sabers lit and a deranged look on his face. He was not intrigued by the other inhabitants in the spectral plane that was Abeloth's realm. He fell in line with the other Sith that resided here along with the Emperor. Ravenous was never introduced to him, but he should certainly know who the Wookiee was due to his relationship with the Dark Lord, Hades. There was unspoken respect for the Dark Lord of the Sith from Ravenous and he was ready for a fight. He waited for the others, if there were any. He knew Hades lived through himself, he would live through Ravenous, until he would find a suitable body as long as Abeloth had given up on him.

'And what of the master and the apprentice who hate each other? The apprentice who completed his training alone? The master whose corpse was despoiled? Which one will make a better Son for me?'

Hades eyed Abeloth. His hatred for her was nigh impossible to contain, but he did. For the moment. He then looked to Ravenous.

"Why would I choose to be your Son? You took me and forced me into this place. A slave in a cage."

Hades eyed the black tentacles bursting from his chest and back and an idea formed. He focused on the tendrils, the very things that Abeloth was using to trap him and the others, and began a Force Drain.

Abeloth's head jerked around, ignoring Teafa and Arach as the Force Drain rendered the tentacles on her left side inert, the life being siphoned from them. With a blast of energy she sought to render Hades to nothing more than an assortment of limbs, but the energy he had reaped would already provide him with an all the more solid form in this realm.

She hadn't looked to the result of her attack, Abeloth had simply twitched her gaze to Ravenous, removing her pressure upon Anark and lashing sideways with her uninjured tentacles. A literal wall of telekinesis would slam into the Wookiee's side, and her hand would pluck at the filament of energy running from him to Teafa. She would snap it in an eye blink, placing them both in excruciating pain for a moment - which suited Abeloth fine, as Teafa would have to pass through pain to be of any use. Perhaps she would have two Daughters instead?

Darth Insipid lifted a hand and picked up Anark and hurled him at Abeloth, intending to use him as a weapon while she was distracted. The Goddess reacted with the speed of a viper, looking at Anark and accelerating his drive towards her and torpedoing him across the grove as she sidestepped; a wall came into existence for him to smash into. Insipid winced as Abeloth looked back to him, taking a step backwards towards Teafa and Arach before intending to launch forward and smash Insipid flat.

The Emperor reacted with a burst of lightning from the hand not still cupping the hole in his chest, but it did nothing to her, and the Goddess of the Stars simply dispelled the attack as she burst into laughter.

She was too powerful.

There simply wasn't time to win, in a straight up fight.

But at least Insipid's action had kept her in one spot for a brief, vital, moment.

Hades caught the energy fired at him in his hands and simply absorbed it. It was amazing how he had adapted to this new realm, and how strong the Force was here. The tentacles in his chest shriveled as he stepped away from them. he was more solid, and more physical now, and this placed him at an advantage. He watched the others for his cue on what to do next.

Behind Hades appeared a batch of tentacles, grabbing at his shoulders and suddenly a second Abeloth was behind him, emerging from a pool of water and her teeth reaching for the back of his neck, pulling him into her final embrace; she had expanded again on the fear of those still awake around her. Mine.

Hades had not expected her to appear in a second form, and as the tentacles shot out and grabbed him, he did something unexpected. He fell to his knees. As he did, he grabbed his lightsabers from his belt, as he had felt their familiar weight appear as he had grown stronger. He ignited the crimson blades and twisted with the force of the tentacles hitting him. They spun him around and he quickly slashed upwards at them.

He now faced the new Abeloth, and as he did, he shoved the lightsaber blades at her face.

Anark hoisted himself up and punched a fist into the wall that wasn't there before. It hurt but it shook off some of the anger and embarrassment the Sith felt from being catapulted like an expendable arrow. He turned around, snarling and spitting. He didn't know who had angered him more, the celestial or his former master. He summoned his lightsaber to his hand and brought it to life, the sound of the ignition echoing across the strange landscape. He lifted it in the air, aimed and threw it like a spear with an oomf in Abeloth's direction.

Being completely ignored by Abeloth had certainly been useful, as Teafa had managed to basically walk right up to her. And then everything seemed to happen at once, Insipid attacking with lightning, someone getting thrown through the air, a second Abeloth appearing right behind Hades, in short chaos. Somewhere in there Abeloth had even plucked the string attaching herself and Ravenous, but the result was only pain. And she had learned long ago to deal with that while captured by slavers. As It seemed like she wasn't going to be getting a better moment, Teafa moved, wishing that they had been able to actually coordinate all of this somehow. Ashla knows that would have been too easy. But maybe, just maybe she could still strike at Abeloth.

Taking one final step forward, Teafa snatched one of her lightsabers off of her belt, and in one fluid motion jammed the emitter into the middle of Abeloth's back while simultaneously igniting it. As soon as she felt the blade bite into whatever amounted to Abeloth's form in this place, she pulled the blade upwards, hoping to literally split the creature in two. Teafa followed that motion by using the Force to enhance her speed and moved into an immediate slash aiming to take off Abeloth's head. Should this not actually work, and no one else actually manage to take advantage, then Teafa fully expected to be dead very shortly. Or at the very least in some immense pain. But sometimes a sacrifice had to be made for the greater good. A serene smile crossed her lips, as she pulled on the Force in preperation to defend herself.

Abeloth side-stepped, annoyed more than anything, and still had time to grab Insipid's head bodily and smash it facedown into the turf. The lightsaber ran up her body and out through her shoulder, and she turned the sidestep into smack across Teafa's throat, as swift as lightning, sending her flying. In reality she would have had broken several bones, and it would feel like she had, but here she was all essence and nothing else. That being said, a sprinkle of silver splattered across the ground, cut out of Teafa.

A moment later the spear passed through Abeloth and out the other side and her body teetered. With a glower at Anark as she tottered, back to Arach, she flicked her chin and suddenly Anark would feel part of his chest ripped clear out, as she snatched part of his essence from him and tore it loose.

She turned, flexing her drained tentacles as they recovered. Abeloth straightened them out and released a burst of lightning at Teafa with the intent of crippling her to finish off later, and slowly.

Abeloth spent the entire rotation with an expression of annoyance; as if bugs were agitating her, and glanced to Ravenous to see if he had recovered sufficiently to be a threat to her second illusionary avatar before she finished them off.

'Daughter, if you would kill Insipid.'

Darth Anark's eyes bulged in panic as he looked down at the gash in his chest and cupped a hand to cover it. As Abeloth's words reached his ears, the voice in his head spoke in a sinister tone. Arach! ...slippery, slippery...

A groan escaped Teafa, and she tried to figure out how she had ended up some distance from the melee centered around the black tentacled witch. Her head was ringing, her throat felt as though it should be crushed, and she knew that she had no right to be breathing. And were this the physical plane of existence she wouldn't have been. Instead she found herself in severe pain, nearing some of the worse beatings she had received as a teenager. At least she wasn't coughing up blood this time. Ashla, I have to stand. Have to- Before she could really gather herself, she saw lightning flying out from Abeloth straight in her direction. Mere moments warning, as her sight was in the future by it's very nature.

Knowing that there was no way she was going to actually dodge, Teafa drew on the Force, this time her fear and desperate need for survival fueling the call. Focusing the abundant energies in this place, she wove a shield of tutamanis about herself, knowing that it wasn't going to be enough. And she was right, as pain wracked through her being, and she found herself spasming uncontrollably for several seconds before curling up into a ball. I failed. By Ashla, I didn't do enough. Again calling upon the Force she hid herself, making the being Teafa the most insignificant part of the scenery, just a rock, a whisper of a shadow seen from the corner of an eye. At least she tried to, as she was unsure if it could actually be done in this place. But she needed a few moments. Her mind rang in pain, and even here she could not actually make her body obey her commands as she felt something oozing out of her.

Arach stopped her trek towards the Emperor as everything happened at once. The assassin could only watch as the Sith around her either attacked Abeloth, or were themselves used as a weapon against the tentacled demon.

Soon Abeloth's voice snapped her out of her stupor. "Daughter, if you would kill Insipid."

Arach met the demon's eyes unflinchingly. "Yes, Mother." she responded.

The assassin then looked at the weakened Insipid and started to gather strength for an agonizing mind shard. "'One level higher,'" she quoted, trying to hide the disgust in her tone. She focused the attack on her target, then sent it on its way...

...To Abeloth.

Capitalizing on the distraction, Arach ignited her lightsaber and attacked the goddess with a series of vicious attacks, Hoping to at least distract long enough for others to join in if they were able.

The wall that was encumbering Ravenous was a stifling force. It felt as if he had the whole weight of Mortis on his shoulders as he was pressed sideways and into the ground. He would make her at least work for it before he would be ended. He resisted the Force wall and that was enough to keep him from perishing as he would wait for his opening. He would not have to wait long before said opening appeared in front of him. As she was distracted with Arach and Insipid's relentless attacks she momentarily lessened the pressure that was upon Ravenous. He used his own telekinesis to repel the wall enough for a route away; or over for that matter. He used the Force to leap high in the air, twisting a single hilt downward and gripping with both mitts as Arach's mind shard was released. Roaring and brimming with Rage to nullify the pain surging through his body, He came down upon Abeloth's neck, hoping to slice down her back.

Insipid pulled his face up grinning, as Arach acted as expected. One level higher indeed - betraying the avatar with the same words of Dreadwar, the man that Abeloth had expected to use as leverage to turn her into the Daughter.

He turned his eyes to Hades, now Ravenous had reacted. While the avatar there had managed, in spite of her annoyed surprise, to use the Force to separate Hades' attack and drive her head between the blades to go for a bite which would have consumed half of his forehead, Arach hit her avatar with a mind-shard and the pair of them screamed out, flailing away the pain.

In the next moments it happened; Arach whirled on her avatar and a flurry of slashes left cuts opening across its form, and Ravenous turned aside the Force wall and leapt up, slashing down across the back of Abeloth. In point of fact she was backing away from the pain and brought her head into line with the blow as her tentacles unfurled from Hades, and that avatar split in two.

The main avatar, howling, released a buffeting wave of energy as the avatar exploded, and they all -

Woke.

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