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

The Lorekeeper
Chaos

His body trembled as he knelt before the Left Handed Lord and his eyes dared not glimpse the magnificence of the true god who stood before him, even as others dared to show defiance to Typhojem he did not move, how could he?

His entire lift had been spent in servitude to those more powerful than he. First Darth Andeddu, then the Sickness. He told himself that he did so in hopes of learning secrets held by these beings. In this fashion he had even knelt before Abeloth.

Truth be told, he was a coward and nothing more.

He feared them all, and he needed them all, he barely knew who he was without another to mold him in their image.

A painful kick to his posterior caused him to look from the corner of his eye, he saw only darkness. As his vision adjusted he realized it was a being, large and imposing, wrapped in flowing black robes that were frayed from age. Continuing to look up at the mountain of a being his jaw fell slack, he knew this one, though last he laid eyes upon him was in the Valley of Golg as he died before Dathka Graush.

Darth Cruor stared down at the cowering form of the Lorekeeper, though his face was hidden within his voluminous hood the disdain felt for the librarian was clear.

"For once in your miserable life, get off your knees." His deep baritone voice chided. "Coward." Adding insult to injury.

The Lorekeeper looked up in amazement, but then he remembered where he was. He looked at Typhojem for the first time, though only for the briefest of moments before he averted his eyes and stared once again at the ground, then he rose and quickly moved behind the Harbinger. If circumstances were less dire the ancient Sith might have found a moment to be amused, now was not that time.

The ancient Sith's shrouded gaze fell upon the new Battlelord, Darth Manticore, he nodded in solidarity to the man who had seized his former title. There was wisdom in the Zabrak's words, and his passions threatened to stir a rebellion within the ranks of the dead. Darth Hades immediately stood with his High Lord, his voice seeking to inspire those who yet feared the power of the god, and Darth Syren renewed her defiance to the god openly.

Finally his sight turned to Darth Haretisch, the "betrayer", he would most likely be reviled for the rest of his existence. Darth Cruor did not share the view of those who hated him, in fact he alone may have the capacity to understand the Night Herald's actions. They both knew what it was to serve their common master, Typhojem, they both had paid a terrible price for their service to the Lord of Lies. That was not the depth of Cruor's understanding however, for he too had wished for oblivion, so much simpler it would be than to serve his Lord for eternity.

No other being here could understand what it was to be an apprentice of Typhojem, in that they were brothers.

Darth Cruor's sight fell upon that of the Left-Handed Lord. "My master," He paused momentarily, he had not said that word aloud in thousands of years, and it did not sit well on his tongue, "I serve you no more." His words were final, he stood in unity with his fellow Sith, regardless of the consequences.

TAGS: Darth_wanderguard Mikaboshi greyjedi125 Darth_Elu DarthIshyZ E. L.Knight Lady Belligerent Sinrebirth

 

IC- Darth Arach
Mortis

Returning to reality was not as smooth as it had been vanishing from it.

Arach slowly became aware of her surroundings, but only visually. As far as hearing went, everything was muffled as if an explosion had happened right next to her. And she was disoriented.

The only thing that made it through her cloud were the words, "Typhojem has been released."

She squeezed her eyes shut as her anger and betrayal flooded her being. Haretisch had succeeded.

Arach opened her eyes again and everything snapped back into focus. She felt a tug on her arm and became aware of Hesper speaking while hauling her up. "... shape to pilot? We’ve got to get going. There’s no time to waste.”

"I'm fine," the assassin croaked. Any lingering disorientation, she managed to shake off.

She passed the other woman at the top of the ramp and headed straight for the cockpit and started the engines.

Tags: Lady Belligerent, and the rest of Shadow Squadron

 

IC: Radian, Darth Ravenous, Darth Cocytus, Typhojem, and Darth Kronos

Chaos swooned in the force as the battle raged. Radian ran up the steps of the tower with the Wookiee, Darth Ravenous, only a breaths pace behind him. He had wanted to leave, and told Aryan as much. But the fool had it in his head to waste time going to save a Sith, a Wookiee Sith no less, a quite dangerous combination.

They could have been to Sullust by now he thought irritated by the course these events had taken.

Once they felt the Emperors call, alive, if not well, their exit had been compromised. And with that Radian didn't have the choice to protest as they directed their ship back to the vile tower.

And now here they were, in the end.

Events occurred quickly once they had arrived in the room, so quickly Radian couldn't make sense of them all. His green blade was lit in a second, and he didn't bother to look and see if the Wookiee had done the same.

Radian glanced some corpses on the floor though he didn't bother to register who they were, whether they be cultists or Sith, he didn't know, and he didn't care.

The Jedi hesitated, unsure of how he might aid in this fight. He looked at the monster before them, hoping for a sign, a way.

But he froze. There was no way he knew as dread filled his heart. Radian lowered his blade in terror, ready to retreat, ready to meet the blades of the Sith if it meant he didn't have to face this... thing.

But something stopped him. A call in the force, one familiar, but distant.

The Demon was pushed back by an invisible force.

A new blade was seen, apart from the waves of red. Another green one, like his own. Held by a man dressed head to toe in Jedi garb. And he knew who it was.

"Master Skywalker!" he shouted. Relief and strength had taken the place where fear once sat. A broad smile became apparent on the Mirialan's face. And a new sense of confidence boiled up as he realized at last, he was not alone in this dark abyss.

Cade Skywalker stood ready to fight, and bade them forward. Radian too was ready, his blade held high in a one handed grip pointing at their foe.

For a moment he couldn't help but wonder how Cade Skywalker got here, but he squashed such thoughts instantly. Radian's communicator was somewhat dinged up, but his tracer was still active as far as he could tell. That was as good an explanation as he needed.

With that he launched himself forward, ready to assist in Skywaker's assault.

Darth Ravenous had been at the heels of the Jedi the whole time. Reminiscent of his old days with the Jedi Order, as he looked at the back of the head of this one; of Radian, the lighting of the tower stairwell played tricks on his feral eyes. He saw his former Master's silhouette fade in and out, replacing that of Radian with each passing fixture. It was possible that this Radian knew his Master Nubia at one time, possibly even fighting together as brother's in arms. Ravenous would not bring up the subject or the fate of his Master as the Order had most likely; and hopefully given up their search for him.

As the Wookiee came back, lost in his own thoughts, bathed in Darkness, Ravenous stared from the background of the scene that was unfolding before them. The Dark Side was emanating from a hooded figure across from them... Typhojem...Who was being tossed against the distant wall by...

"Master Skywalker..."

It was spoken by the Wookiee at the same time as Radian, the two contexts of their realizations were completely different however. Ravenous' was gritted and encumbering while the Jedi's was of relief and strength. In reality, he hoped he had seen the Last of the Skywalker lineage fade away with Cade's supposed death but here he was, The Scourge of the One Sith standing before them and ready to assist against Typhojem. Ravenous watched through his armored helm as the two Jedi charged ahead, recklessly, with both their green sabers alight. There would not be a red saber snapping to life, at least, not yet. Ravenous continued to watch the scene unfold from the cover of the shadows. It would be considered cowering by some, but if they only knew the power of what stood before them they would call it surviving...

Darth Cocytus broke off his block when the lightning broke. Some of the lightning managed to brush against his body, leaving him sore. Calling upon the dark side to restore his strength he glared upon the arrival of a new abomination, devouring everything into its path, Sith and Cultist alike. Typhojem the Kaminoan thought coldly with spine-chilling fear turning into venomous hatred focused on this being. "What wretched creature you are! I swear today you shall fall at the hands of the Sith!"

Then Darth Cocytus blinked as he felt it. He felt a surge in the dark side. As if billions of lives throughout the galaxy cried out in tormented horror before becoming utterly silent. Death. Typhojem was spreading death in the trillions throughout the galaxy, annihilating all who opposed him. All the suffering, all the anguish throughout the galaxy, the Sith Apprentice felt it all and it felt intoxicating! Empowering!

Darth Cocytus's cold face turned into an even colder smile as he gave out a sadistic cackle. He raised his hands and unleashed a powerful blast of Sith lightning with power renewed and perfected, obliterating the debris of ceiling that almost crushed him. "Power!" Cocytus cried out as he continued to unleash his power, laughing maniacally, "Unlimited power!"

Cocytus continued laughing before snapping out of his madness, upon hearing the Emperor's call to run. His eyes widened upon the full extent of the situation, while clinging onto his resurged power. The tower was falling apart all around him in a great and terrible storm with the Emperor now also devoured by Typhojem. The time has come to run or be destroyed.

Cocytus growled as he backed away towards the exit with full intention to flee from Typhojem despite his new found power, seeing this whole affair as now a fool's errand. However, feeling a new presence, the Sith Kaminoan looked closely to see a warrior now fighting the God of the Sith. "Skywalker..." sneered the Kaminoan with cold hatred towards the Jedi, "So the heir of the So-called Chosen One has returned from the dead to save the galaxy? How quaint."

Cocytus growled as he shook his head. No. Running away was in fact the fool's errand. He knew that he must stand, fight and finish this once and for all. Cocytus blinked upon feeling two new presences and he turned to see the Wookiee, Darth Ravenous, and... another Jedi. He sneered in disgust and frozen hatred. Seven thousand years of existence and the Sith still had yet to cleanse the galaxy of Jedi filth. Cocytus shook with a growl. No. Now was not the time for rivalries. There was too much at stake. The Jedi will be destroyed in due time, but now was the for... teamwork. The Kamioan snarled with the urge to vomit at the very thought. However, it was indeed necessary for the good of the galaxy.

"Come!" Cocytus barked with durasteel authority in his voice while not hiding his cold, venomous hatred and revulsion towards Radian, "We must join Cade Skywalker and help him destroy Typhojem. Call upon full power of the force and end this once and for all!"

Ravenous continued to stay out of view, at least to eyesight. The Force however... Through the Force one would feel his fear, his hate, of the Jedi. He stayed in the shadows, sneering and growling outward. There was a Kaminoan now, fighting along side the two Jedi. This one extruded a Dark Aura, feeding off of the Left-handed tide that now encompassed them all. Ravenous was tired. He felt the drain that he had felt from the travels through the ruins of the Kashi Mer. The drain of the battle for Moraband. The drain of Abeloth and everything that was ensuing before him. Before Radian closed in upon Typhojem, a weird vision passed before Ravenous and he saw Radian turn back and judge him unto the shadows, except it wasn't Radian. Nubia's face replaced the Master Jedi that he had followed up the ornate staircase. The Wookiee felt a calmness overtake him, what once was Rage was now tranquility. What once was Hate was replaced with Love; an unconditional love. He looked down upon himself and saw the armored suit that cradled him. Shaking his head, Ravenous instinctively pushed the eject button to his suit and pieces flew outward upon the room. None hit the other 'allies' that inhabited the space with him. With one final snarl, he lit his blood red blade; He channeled both Light and Dark Sides of the Force.

Darth Cocytus smirked a little as Ravenous and Radian Typhojem. He too joined his fellow Sith and hated Jedi in the fight. As the Kamioan charged, Cocytus summoned and ignited a lightsaber with one hand, while unleashing a surge of Sith Lightning upon the Left Handed God with his other hand. The Sith apprentice continued consuming the devastation caused by Typhojem and calling upon the full power of the dark side with all of his fear, his anger, bitter cold hatred and cruelty and his will to destroy his foe once and for all. Cocytus would defend himself greatly against Typhojem's attack, whatever they may be, with the defensive third form of Soresu while striking back with the his full might of the force.

In the middle of it all, Kronos had been silently standing in a secluded part of the room. Not unseen to the eye, but not glanced on. Not during the total chaos and mayhem going on.

Kronos almost wanted to ask where Cade Skywalker even came from. He had just showed up from seemingly nowhere, dramatically removed his hood, and Force Pushed Typhojem into a distant wall. Was he watching them the entire time? Did he arrive in the nick of time to aid them? Who knows.

But he decided it would be best not to question it. They would need all the help they could get. And someone who was able to Force Push the God into the wall was definitely an asset.

The other Jedi they had seemed as if he was geeking out with the arrival, and there was an obvious smile of relief spread across his face.

The Wookiee had hidden himself within the Force. Physically, to the eye, he was nearly impossible to see. But, through the Force, his fear and hatred was apparent.

The Kaminoian, well he was excited to say the least. As he had acquired a greater amount of power, he had began to laugh manically as it happened, all the while shouting with pure rage and power. This one could go places. But that depended on whether or not he could put the spark out.

Kronos would join the group. He, like the others, knew that Cade could be the last chance they had at stopping Typhojem. For this moment in time, the Jedi and Sith would have to set aside their differences and work together to defeat a common foe.

How poetic.

Typhojem reconstituted from rolling black smoke, affected only momentarily by Cade Skywalker's force push. The golden eyes of a god burned anew and looked on at the united front which now stood against him. Cocytus was drawing adeptly on the darkness all around, launching bursts of lightning from his fingertips. Kronos stood poised to fight, filled with rage at having seen his beloved Esmerelda dead once more. Anark, faceless but alive. Ravenous, raging like a beast. Radian, stalwart as ever and emboldened by who now stood in their midst. The heir of the Chosen One. The great-great-grandson of Anakin Skywalker himself. Cade shone like a beacon in an ocean of darkness, the very last hope of the light. Typhojem felt a glimmer of hope lingering within each who stood against him.

And then he squashed it.

With a single thought from the god of the Sith, every bone in Cade Skywalker's body was snapped in two. With a second, he was ripped apart at every joint, but he did not die, and instead his consciousness would linger long enough to see and be cognizant of his failure. Then with a third, the last vestiges of his life and existence were snuffed like a candle. He would not fall to Chaos - such was only the fate of those who died steeped in darkness. Nor would he become one with the force - that secret was not known to him. Instead, he simply ceased to be.

The light side of the force had all but lapsed from perceptibility, so all-encompassing was the darkness.

And as they all looked on, Typhojem's mind and eye would drift and focus elsewhere, and they would blessedly live - at least for a few more moments.

TAG: Darth_wanderguard Lady Belligerent Sinrebirth WookieeRage Darth Cocytus ConservativeJedi321

 

IC: Darth Kronos
Angst and sadness - From before Cade Skywalker's death.

The end was nigh. Death surrounded them all - and it was almost upon them. Sooner or later, it would reach him too. Exactly when was a mystery to him, as was everything ever these days.

As he stumbled his way back into the main room of the Son's Tower, slaughtering any cultists that got in his way by feeding on the pain that shot throughout his body, using highly telegraphed slices for maximum power into every strike. While Jwob's healing technique had worked on subsiding the pain so he could stand, it did not even come close to completely removing it. Perhaps that was intentional, thinking back on it. Leaving the pain within him to use it as a tool. Smart.

Or perhaps he was giving the Ithorian too much credit.

But he digressed. It didn't matter in the long run.

Soon he would be too full of despair to care.

He found his way back into the room with Blade Squadron, beheading an unsuspecting cultist as he did so - and he feasted his eyes on the unrest that was happening. Abeloth was gone, something had happened to her in his convenient absence, but instead of her, they were faced with something much, much worse.

Typhojem. His figure was completely impossible to define. It seemed part of him lied upon the walls, but other parts formed the very basics of a body, completely wrapped in the black, sinister shadow, designed to inspire fear upon anyone who would glance into his eyes. And his eyes; they glowed with a bright color, as if he was directly near a star, light emerging from the pupils, giving him the godlike appearance. Blinding. That was the best word for it. Kronos would have to look away, and only focus upon Esmerelda, who thankfully was not injured after he was blasted out of the room by one of the damn Abeloth avatars with the red lightning that shot from one of her tentacles. Or something to that affect. It was honestly getting to mind-bending to describe, and none of it was clear.

Well, one thing was clear: Typhojem wanted blood. And he would have it. Kronos could feel the power within Him. And it didn't take a sleuth to figure out his true motive.

Panic began to set. He began to take multiple, purposeful steps toward his one and only, as he hoped deep within that he would go unnoticed by the God, praying that he would be too focused upon Insipid, Jwob, or even some of the other Blade Squadron/whoever members that were there.

With every death, Kronos quickened his pace. First, Typhojem had started with Jwob, setting his skin ablaze, dying a probable painful death. He didn't care. Then, He focused his attention on the Reptilian, forcing him to choke on his own blood; his body collapsed to the ground, lifeless, and blood puddled in his mouth. Again, Kronos did not care. They were merely distractions, a way for hope to stay within the young Sith Lord.

Kronos continued to make several glanced back and forth, between Esmerelda and Typhojem. Not for some weird tactic, but due to fear.

Esmerelda might not have even seen him coming. It would be understandable, with all of the utter insanity in the room. Facing a God and Goddess, combined with warped men and women, cultists of Mortis, and High Cultists. It would be easy to be distracted and easy to not pay attention to your surroundings.

He would not get the chance to find out.

Because Typhojem had found his next target: Esmerelda. Kronos would be close enough to her to see it up close as it happened.

With a simple flick of his wrist, Typhojem had turned Esme's skin inside out, and blood shot in all directions; staining everything close to her with her blood.....

Including him.

Her blood was shot at him like a laser bolt from a blaster, but this time it was not expected. The sheer shock alone would cause him to stumble, her lifeless and red body collapsing body would only be seen out of the corner of his eye - blurry, but not unmistakable and still clear and obvious to him.

The blood stained his new armor and cape, as it ran down his face, arms, and clothing. His body shook with pure rage, anger, and shock over what had happened.

That was when the delayed reaction set in. He had quickly turned his head back up to look at her, and he would immediately see her once beautiful body rendered down into the crimson red mess of flesh, skin, and blood.

In the Force, there was no life within her. She was dead.

He tried to speak, maybe shout or scream, but no vocals would come out. Only heavy, labored breaths would come from his mouth, a sound of distraught and sorrow. He found himself to be speechless. From the anger, from the sorrow, from the regret. Sure, a massive portion of that rage would be directed toward the God Typhojem. He was the one who killed her, after all. And part of him knew this. But deep down, deep within himself, he could not move past the fact that he had failed to keep her alive. He had silently vowed to keep her safe, and he had failed. Even if most would think it was not rational to think in such a way, it really wouldn't matter to him. To Kronos it was obvious: he had failed the only person he truly cared about anymore. And he would have to live with that for the rest of his natural life. A cruel and awful fate, if that was indeed Typhojem's plan all along; to drive him over the edge of sanity, shove all rationale out the window.

Well, it certainly was working.

Because in the flurry of negative emotions, Kronos only had one simple-minded goal: kill Typhojem, by any means necessary. Smart? Probably not. But he wasn't doing much thinking.

He only gripped his lightsaber even tighter, ready to throw it.

And in the seconds that would follow, something would become apparent to him. As Typhojem only sought to cause more pain upon the group. A sudden emergence from a Sith unknown to Kronos was immediately killed off; the same male Sith from earlier had his damn face ripped off, but it would become obvious that Typhojem had the intent on keeping him alive; the blond woman, one he still never bothered to get the name of, seemingly regained her sight. But that was followed by them popping, and having the liquid replaced by acid. But, again, she would be kept alive.

Yet, a pattern emerged - in his point of view. Kronos was the only one that Typhojem did not physically harm. Everyone else he either killed, severely maimed, or just left alone. But him? No, He had to go for the heart and mind, killing his love in the most brutal way, directly in front of him. Mental pain was the objective for Typhojem when it came to Kronos. Which was infuriatingly wicked. It only served to piss him off even more.

Before Kronos could throw his lightsaber at Typhojem, a move that would probably not even phase him in the slightest, another mysterious figure had suddenly emerged out of the shadows. He removed the hood, revealing the face of Cade Skywalker, one Kronos only knew by name, and nothing more. He gave Kronos a slight glance,and then raised a hand, Force Pushing Typhojem back. Somehow.

It would act as a means to let Kronos think. Time to ponder his actions. Was blindly attacking Typhojem out of a futile attempt to avenge a one and only a smart idea? Definitely not. But it was the latter statement that held him back. He already felt obliged to avenge her death, make it so that it was not in vain, use it to fuel himself, and the others, to victory - if that were possible at this stage.

Kronos glanced at the floor where Insipid was. He was dead. His cold and lifeless body laid on the ground. Their most powerful asset was gone. But, in his place, the Jedi, Cade, emerged, acting like a beacon of hope for the Sith team. Why he wanted to help, Kronos did not fully understand. He assumed it had to do with the other Jedi with them, and Typhojem on the loose.

But, it would seem they only had Haretisch and Bellorum now. Unless something happened to either one without him knowing.

But enough rambling.

Near him, he saw the Wookiee and the Jedi, and Cade had spared them a glance as well. They still had hope. And he would grasp that hope tightly. Esmerelda deserved to be avenged, for Typhojem killing her, and especially his own mistake.

He could not allow himself to fail.

TAG: Everyone and No One

 

Darth Invidius IC:
~Son's Tower, Mortis~

He kept struggling, weaker than usual maybe, but he struggled all the same. Invidius simply couldn't accept the fact that he had failed in his task of destroying Abeloth. To some, they might understand due to the fact that The Mother is the Dark Celestial. But that didn't matter to him. The ssi-ruu was hungry and she had been chosen as prey regardless.

And he had failed, still ensnared by her tentacles. He barely noticed anything else going around him as he flailed mentally and wriggled futilely physically.

Then it happened.

He was abruptly and unceremoniously tossed down by Her as if he was nothing more than a rag doll, causing him to wince from the force of the impact amid his already accrued injuries. It was nothing like the blow he had received earlier, but it was pain all the same.

Looking up, his eyes strained from the sensations assaulting him, he saw the one who trapped him backing up. Backing…..Wait.

She's backing away? Why does she look so frightened all of a sudden?

Invidius had no idea what was going on, but he knew she had just flipped back into prey mode in his mind. Struggling to his feet and managing to grasp that mysterious new lightsaber of his (though he mentally noted to find his master's blade again after this was over since it was in the room somewhere), he watched her. And once again found himself waiting, trying to understand the situation before springing.

He noticed a few others rushing in from the hangar veranda, the jedi and politician among them, but paid no heed. His focus was entirely on what was going on in front of him. Even another avatar of hers acted strangely then simply splashed away like water to reveal some other person quite clearly not her. However, he had already sensed that change. His eyes remained glued to the frightened celestial.

Then Emperor Insipid began slowly walking towards her, stalking. Invidius watched warily. Abeloth let forth her Force attacks and he braced himself…only to see the Emperor bat them away easily even in the condition he was in.

What…? How? He was completely overpowered before and he's more injured than I am…

A small exchange occurred, with the redscale slowly following behind Insipid. He did not want to lose this renewed chance to enact his plan.

Then came the laughter. And the words of Typhojem.

Mentally and spiritually, the Dark Celestial was ended by one she thought an ally. Invidius realized his chance had suddenly narrowed considerably. His fatigued and painful muscles tightened in his legs, ready to pounce over the Emperor to reach her in time….

But he was too late. A slash and she was down. Down once and for all. Abeloth was dead.

His body relaxed all tension, his eyes widened, and his scent-tongues flared out rapidly.

He had truly failed. She was dead and this was to the good, ultimately that was going to be her Fate no matter what. But…

Invidius wanted to growl, but only looked at the Emperor who told them they hadn't much time.

He went, but not to leave. Instead he scrambled over to the corpse of one who had once called herself Queen of the Stars. Looking over her, she just looked like another corpse in the end. All that power, all that potential, all that dark legend. Gone.

What a waste.

Ignoring the fact that the Emperor's orders were now a failure too in that suddenly the Force blared out in such a way he had never felt before. In fact, he narrowly toppled over as he lost his footing from its potency, though he caught himself in time.

He didn't know what just happened, but Invidius' attention was still on Abeloth. Even then. Crouching down and setting his weapon to the side for a moment, he felt her pulse. Nothing.

Grasping the lightsaber in frustration as the sky buckled and liquid, convulsing and shuddering poured forth from it; the Left Handed Lord appeared at last as he bowed his head. Not to him, of course, but to the deceased. The last celestial.

With what he could still feel of the Force, and death permeated throughout it now as well, he stretched out with his mind. Hoping, reaching, clawing.

A predator to the end.

After a few moments, Invidius finally forced himself to his feet and turned to look at Typhojem, igniting his blade.

And that was when he died.

A slow, painful death. His mind reeling, confused and choking as his own blood within his throat downed him, carrying him to the other side without any rhyme or reason as far as he was concerned.

And that other side? Was a very odd place. A sky of blood red, jagged stone of black, and sulfuric ash rising as haze in the distance. And everyone around him.

Still, there was Typhojem. For all eternity, he would be around no matter where he went, dead or alive he assumed. How annoying. His tail swished in agitation, while he took in his surroundings.

Lord Manticore stood not far from him. What was he doing here?

…It hit him, now that he was no longer so focused on the battle against Abeloth. For Typhojem to be released, Hell Squadron must have been wiped out. His master had died just as he had.

Then the God began to speak and he listened to the tale of treachery from Darth Haretisch. This was not a startling revelation on that he was not a man he knew at all anyway and the knowledge of politics and power being what it was, was still apparent.

Those with power would always betray to gain more. He knew this, accepted it, and subscribed to the ideal himself. That was simply the way.

This former Triumvir, clearly dead as with so many others as they kept appearing, made a bad choice. An idiotic one due to his wish to go to true and utter oblivion, but he had made his power moves and gamble all the same.

Then the offer came. And the liar's counter came with it.

When faced with two liars and no option to ignore both, there was a simple rule. Choose the one who has the least room to do so. In this case, that choice was clear. To add to this, his own master began to offer defiance to the God.

Invidius moved next to Manticore, bowing once quietly, then listening to the others give their defiance as well. He was idly surprised not a single one thought to ally with Typhojem. That was good, but typically there were a few fools in a crowd. Apparently the Sith had already culled them from their herd. What did they have to lose anyway?

They were all already dead.

Indeed, this was the only reason he didn't quake from fear. Along with the fact that everyone else stood with him, and quite frankly things were moving almost too fast to even feel afraid.

Cocking his head at the God, however, Invidius realized with a smirk that he did have one last trump card up his sleeve. And by all appearances, mighty Typhojem did not even know, otherwise he would be cast into oblivion already. Or at least immediately mocked and tortured for his amusement in front of the others. Either or.

Nor did Invidius ever say one way or another in response to the God's request. But then again, silence was an answer all its own.

In the end, the Left Handed Lord was still focused on Haretisch and getting pledges. This left his path open to him and when presented with something to use unknowingly on a target, a new….prey…what more could one such as himself do? He may be a warrior through and through, but he was also an assassin. A political manipulator. A predator in every sense.

Once again, Darth Invidius waited.

And this time…for the right moment.


Tag: Darth_wanderguard Sinrebirth Lady Belligerent greyjedi125 Mikaboshi QueenSabe7 E. L.Knight & Everyone Else

 

IC: Darth Manticore
Sith Nercromachy

The zabrak, former Sith Battlelord, and former Sith High Lord, managed to smirk as his kindred in ideology counted themselves together in defiance against the Left Handed Lord.

Darth Hades, and Darth Syren vocalized their rejection of Typhojem. Others did as well, by simply standing with them. The Stygian Executor was pleased to see Lord Cruor stand with them as well-this, a being who was formerly a living legend among the sith.

Manticore’s fiery eyes immediately noticed as Darth Invidius, his former apprentice, appeared and took his place next to him. Manticore, nodded in welcome and approval.

Why former?

Because they were no longer constrained by the rules and alliances of the living. In this place, their true ideologies bound them as one. Typhojem was just a petty tyrant. He had not earned their respect, or their allegiance and simply expected obeisance due to his own complex series of delusions.

Manticore resolved to stand against this Left Handed Lord, for all eternity if that was his fate. All around him, he saw and felt the enormity that was Typhojem, but he remained undaunted.

Outside, Skywalker failed, but that was to be expected, even as worlds continued to be snuffed out.

More and more dead were arriving. Manticore would warn them against using their ‘powers’ in this place, if he sensed that anyone would do so. That would be akin to drinking poisoned water, such that would rob you of your identity, of that he was was fairly certain. The zabrak’s smirk widened as more ‘sith’ arrived, and more stood against Typhojem.

Did this petty dictator know nothing of sith?

Typhojem’s displeasure was quite palpable, when suddenly, everyone present was made to experience the Left Handed Lord’s millennia of struggles as their own; Typhojem: becoming the very definition of the Rule of the Strong!!

Manticore felt it all, took it all, and survived it all! Typhojem was blind and arrogant to think that he alone embodied such a rule -but the Left Handed Lord was also wrong.

Manticore hadn’t realized that he was hunched over by the mental assault, but he quickly righted himself. Ironically, and probably quite unintentionally, the zabrak was actually made stronger by the experience- his resolve reaching new heights.

So very powerful and so blind all at once. Typhojem’s rule was flawed.

The Left Handed Lord needed not prove himself? Then why the spectacle? Why the need of worshipers? It took no strength to subjugate the weak. That wasn’t strength at all. For a single being to triumph against many, when the odds are stacked against him- that is strength. Typhojem had dire need of Haretisch in order to be released, lest his imprisonment continue for many more millennia. How did the need of a pawn make him all powerful by definition?

Someone truly strong did not fear opposition. Trickery and cruelty were tools employed by lesser beings who needed to appear stronger than they were.

“We stand united. Against you.” Manticore declared simply. It wasn’t a threat, it was not a boast. It was simple, factual and definitive truth.

Oh, there was no doubt about it. Manticore would go as far as to become the Left Handed Lord’s concordant opposite, if that is what it took. Less than a handful of beings in the galaxy had earned his respect. Typhojem was not one of them. Clearly, he had no need of it.

But something else was happening, something pivotal.

A strange sensation coursed through them all - and it didn’t originate with any of his them. Something of epic proportions was about to take place- something they might need to brace themselves.


Tag: @Sinrebirth, @Darth_wanderguard, @QueenSabe7, @E. L.Knight, @Darth_Elu, @Mikaboshi, Everyone!

 

OOC: A combo presented by Hansolo29 and A Blind Prophet

IC: Teafa Phadreg/ Shuttle/ Insanity/ Mortis

Unsure of what exactly to expect given the situation, and how it had seemed like they had a moment, being ignored wasn't quite number one on her list. But then, there was a decided lack of relationship between herself and her master. They had only even spoken a single time so far, so why he would pay her any real mind now... Well, his reaction was imminently reasonable. Then he said to go, that this was a defeat. Defeat? Why?

And then it hit her. All of those in the well were lost. Dead. Oh no. No! There was a sense of something immense entering reality, squeezing through the tightest of cracks with a fraction of it's power. It was like a mountain shrugging, stretching for the first time in millennia. NO! Terrifying didn't even begin to cover it, and she forced her attention away from that. Desperate for anything else, any straw to grasp at to maintain her sanity. She felt Insipid begging for everyone to trust him one more time, and though she could taste the desperation and something else underneath it all she clung to that with all of her might, flimsy though it was.

Forcing her unsteady body into motion, focusing all of her will into simply making her legs pump one in front of the other, she felt a small portion of her mind begin to panic. NO! Stamping down on that with all that she was, Teafa came to standstill as a low growl of frustration unconsciously came out of her mouth. She would not lose it. Panic was not an option. So instead she thought about her lightsaber, a simple mundane thing to focus on, and the Ssi-Ruuk that she needed to get it from. She spotted him, and began angling over that direction, hoping to get to the shuttle at the same time.

And then the shrug turned into a yawn, an almost absent gesture of power, and every living thing that wasn't their group simply ceased to exist. Panic again welled up inside of her as she began to hyperventilate, and she wished she knew where to run, that there was some place to hide, and she folded the Force about herself in a stealth field, trying to make sure all attention was focused anywhere but herself. And she ran towards the giant red lizard, drawing on the Force to also augment her speed, as the primal part of her demanded that she be anywhere but here. Here was worse than death. That she was heading towards exactly where she didn't want to be didn't actually register.

Above them all a... a thing... a mythical horror appeared. What the others were seeing Teafa could never have guessed, but to her it was something so far beyond Abeloth that it beggared description. It broke understanding. It was an odd thing to feel one's mind shatter, slowly, painfully, realizing the utter insignificance of ones self when confronted with an embodiment of the darkside of the Force itself. And so she crumpled to the ground, incapable of even recognizing the pain of her broken ribs screaming at her, her mind was so far gone in that moment.

A.s.h..l.a... But Ashla was nowhere to be found, not even a shadow of the light remained. The only thing to flicker into her mind was death and pain external from herself, and it buffeted her, the sheer pain and horror that some of her comrades were experiencing. Burning, drowning, an utter horror of impossible proportions. And then she was flying away from where she had been, and a fractured piece of her mind registered that Insipid had pushed her away in some futile attempt to keep her safe. At least she thought that was it, maybe he was trying to feed her to the beast as a distraction. Maybe he was taking out his fury at the situation. Her mind simply was incapable of truly understanding at that moment.

Another flare in the darkside, impossibly bright and at the same time impossibly pitiful compared to the vast colossus that menaced them all. The colossus ignored it, and billions died, and Teafa was inundated with death after death after death, the sensation of life being snuffed out the galaxy over hollowing out her being of the concept of life itself.

Power was being wielded by another, Inispid throwing out everything that he could. A shard of her mind noticed, a different shard saw the abomination barely even acknowledge what was happening. And then she felt another pain, one that was sharper and more immediate in tenor, as Insipid was flung through a wall and his body was pulverized. A whimper escaped from Teafa's mouth, and she squirmed, trying to move. Trying to put herself back together as the sharp feel of Insipid's agony brought her back to the immediate.

Then another screamed, Anark she thought it was.

Color.

Everything was vibrant. Overwhelming with things she couldn't put name to.

Her battered mind barely recognized it from the vision she had experienced on arriving at Mortis. She could see the roiling clouds in the sky. The black shadow of a man that was Typhojem, blood the color of his soul falling to the ground, burning.

Burning.

Her eyes were burning. Melting.

A scream began to find its way up her throat before her newly gained eyes exploded and the not yet escaped sound changed to a keening of utter torment as raw nerves that hadn't even existed mere seconds ago were torn to shreds.

Instinctively she rolled so that her face was towards the ground, her hands closed into fists, the nails digging into her palms until blood began to ooze from the wounds. But she hadn't been fast enough, and the acid spread across her face, melting the skin, morphing the shape into a perversion of what her features had been. Blood ran with the flesh as it liquefied. Bone poked through as the flesh of her nose oozed out of position. One of her cheekbones began to show, it's glistening whiteness a stark contrast to the bloody mess that dripped from her face.

Still she screamed, keening her suffering to the rest of the world as the nerves of her face shrieked in agony. Somehow she managed to keep her hands away, keeping the damage localized. Somewhere the smallest fraction of her mind noticed Insipid screaming out for them to run through the Force as winds began to buffet her. And she hunkered down where she was, fingers digging into the ground, clawing at it leaving bloody trails in the dirt, as her body went through anguished contortions.

If she could have, she would have thanked Insipid for throwing her somewhere that was at least mildly sheltered from the wind. If she could have, she would have tried to reach the shuttle. She would have cast out for a medikit.

Anything.

Instead she bled onto the ground, as the ruin of her face slowly dissolved.

*****

IC: Aryan Graul

Aryan slowly descended the landing ramp with bated breath, one hand cautiously gripping the hydraulic supports, while the other remained firm around the butt of a blaster pistol. While he didn't really expect a blaster bolt to do much good against the forces of the Dark Side, it did provide some comfort, a small sliver of hope that perhaps everything could return to normal.

But in reality, he knew it was a false hope; the silence that greeted him upon the veranda was more than a little unnerving. Abeloth, for all intents and purposes, had been destroyed – he had witnessed Insipid slay the beast himself. Such an achievement should have assuredly brought about the ultimate victory. So, why did he still feel this overwhelming sense of foreboding, almost as if something was about to happen? The air was electric with it, and it caused his heart to beat ever faster until it thrummed unpleasantly within his ears.

And sure enough, something did happen.

The sky opened up, and out of the heavens, came the bringer of death. Aryan gaped at the sight, his features contorting into a mask that combined both awe and fear. He had never witnessed anything like it before! In a sense, it was almost…beautiful.

But that was before the massacre began; before Jwob seemingly combusted on the spot, before so many others he had never personally met came to a similar grisly fate before his very eyes. This god – Typhojem – was picking them off one by one. There were no regrets, no mercy…it was almost a sport to him. And to think, he had almost thrown everything away to align himself with this monster!

And to what end? To gloat and show his authority over Insipid? It all seemed so trivial now, so childish. Had he ever really grown up?

Aryan swallowed the lump in his throat and turned away from the abomination, almost embarrassed at his recent behavior and hoping to become invisible to what was unfolding around him. In the end, it did very little to help; he could still hear the screams ringing out across the veranda, threatening to crush his very soul with their agony. At one point, he was even aware of the Emperor's voice lifting above the confusion to order a retreat. A manic laugh reached his ears in response – it took him a moment to realize that it was his own.

Still, he did not need to be told twice. He was soon back upon the landing ramp, his boots pounding against the deckplates as his gaze remained focused on his ultimate goal. A jolt of adrenaline reassured him to the fact that he was close, oh, so close…when he was overtaken.

A sharp, intense pain wracked his midsection as he staggered to the side with an audible gasp. At first, he thought he was suffering from a kind of panic attack or some other form of stress-induced condition, but it did not abate. In fact, it only increased in intensity until he could actually feel the mounting pressure pushing against his flesh, looking for some kind of release…and sure enough, he was liberated.

Excruciating pain accompanied the sound of tearing fabric as he tumbled sideways and fell from the top of the landing ramp. He hit the ground fairly hard and remained still for several moments until a heightened sense of awareness roused him from his stupor; it was hard to describe exactly, but it was almost as if his perceptions had been expanded beyond his person, almost as if…

He looked down and simply stared in horror at the sight that met him. His tunic was now in tatters, but beyond that, he counted not two, but six arms?! His heart began to pound within his chest and his vision blurred as he tried to process what was going on. He thought that perhaps he might have hit his head upon his fall, but no, the rogue appendages were responding to his commands, wriggling and flopping awkwardly with lack of coordination. The worst part was that he could actually feel them.

What had they done?! What had Typhojem done?! He turned him into a monster!

All those years of carefully crafting his image to appeal to the masses, to become a man of the people, had been thrown away in this single moment. He could never show his face to the galaxy again, must less represent them looking like this! His career was essentially over! It was as if he was reliving the same, traumatizing moment that had ended his piloting career all over again…

An anguished, nearly feral scream escaped his lips as he began to panic. The little world he had crafted for himself was crashing down around him and he did not know what to do. He was lost, wandering aimlessly as he sought answers…

And then his eyes fell upon the blaster that had slipped from his grip when he had fallen from the ramp. The metal glinted in the waning light, inviting him to take it and to end it all right there to cease his suffering. His breathing now came in short, hollowed gasps as he began to crawl forward to obtain it, but he hesitated when the weapon finally came within his reach.

Just ahead in his line of sight, a young woman lay exposed on the ground. But it wasn't her vulnerability alone that had piqued his interest; it was the agonizing screams that dispelled from her body as her flesh seemingly melted away from her face.

Wait…melted?

Aryan gasped as a wave of nausea nearly overtook him. Suddenly, his own plight didn't seem all that dire. Sure, it was disturbing enough to sprout additional arms at random, but at least there were ways to fix that. But the face? That would be a little harder to remedy…at least, in his own estimation. She would never be the same, and for that, she had his pity.

IC: Aryan and Teafa

Inhaling deeply to steady himself, he allowed the blaster to remain where it had fallen as he rose shakily back to his feet. It took him another moment to gather his bearings, but eventually, he willed himself forward and approached the woman at a slow gait. The image of her ravaged face would forever be burned into his memory, causing him to involuntarily wince as he peered down upon her form. Fortunately, she didn't seem to be in any kind of state to truly care.

"Ah kriff," he muttered under his breath as he lowered himself to his knees beside her. Without hesitation, he began to tear off what remained of his frayed shirt and placing the pieces of fabric upon her blistering wounds. He knew it would only do so much to staunch the pain, but it was a start…at least, until he could get her aboard the shuttle and find a med kit.

"Shh," he cooed in response to her whimpering. "You're…going to be alright. Just give me…" Strain was evident on his face as he reached forward, phantom limbs and all, to cradle her. In one swift motion, he lifted her from the permacrete and rose back to his full height. "…give me a minute."

Teetering a bit under the load, he deftly turned to ensure that the woman remained as comfortable as possible, and returned to the landing ramp.

So much pain was she in that Teafa didn't notice the man who approached her until he had touched her, which made her flinch away, old ingrained instincts flaring up. She was in no condition to fight him however, and as he began to bandage her face she tried to tell him that it wouldn't help unless what was melting her face was neutralized. All that came out was incoherent whimpering. Perhaps even worse than the burning and mangled nerves was the feeling of the musculature of her face shifting and warping. Slowly sloughing away from the bone. Please. Please. pain. Please. It. Stop. pain STOP! STOP!

What she hadn't realized was happening was that some of the acid had been sopped into the cloth, lessening the total damage being done, though it was already catastrophic. She heard him speak while he was placing the bandages, but she could hardly comprehend it. And then she was being picked up. By six arms. Monster! But... human. Six? but be alright. Monster? Disjointed and delirious, she mumbled "Ple..ase... don't... eat me..." But it was mushy, and possibly not understood due to her lips no longer being properly formed.

While the words were garbled, Aryan didn't need to think too hard to discern their meaning; he could almost feel her uncertainty and the fear that followed as realization dawned. He clenched his jaw in response and stumbled the rest of the way into the interior of the shuttle. This was only just the beginning of the kind of ridicule and intolerance that he would have to face going forward. For a brief moment, he almost allowed his anguish to get the better of him as he considered tossing his charge into the adjacent bulkhead to silence her discriminatory words, but he refrained. That would not help either one of them at the moment, and right now, they needed each other to survive.

With a steadying breath, he gently lowered her to one of the bunks and took a precautionary step backward. He knew he needed to find a med kit, but it was becoming increasingly more difficult to focus. "Relax," he relayed softly, trying to remain calm as his eyes darted about the small cabin. "I'm...not going to hurt you. I'm just--" He scoffed as he tried to put the whole situation into words. "Well, it's been difficult for all of us."

Finally spotting what he needed, he turned to retrieve it, but his flaying arms nearly knocked over all of the supplies in the process. He quickly stopped his forward motion before the damage could be done and uttered a curse. This was going to be impossible to get used to!

"Let's...try this again," he muttered to himself as he straightened and tried again, this time moving with more caution. Fortunately, he was able to successfully recover the med kit and the contents inside without embarrassing himself any further. But sadly, he didn't think the young woman cared too much about his fumbling; in the end, it was more about upholding his own dignity.

With a stimshot prepped and in one hand, he returned to the bedside. "Alright, here we go," he announced as he pressed the needle to her neck and depressed the button to administer its contents. "Not so bad, right?"

He knew that was an understatement, but it was best to remain positive. At any rate, the shot should help sooth the pain until he was able to apply the bacta strips.

The coolness of the shuttle settled over her, and as her body somehow managed to adjust itself to the constant bombardment of pain, Teafa found that she was able to stop the constant squirming. And she was actually starting to feel the other pains that she had accrued, broken ribs and torn fingers included. Whimpering again, she attempted to focus on where she was, something mundane. Anything other than what was outside of the shuttle. Anything other than the monstrosity. Anything other than the figure of light that had appeared outside as well.

Light? She seemed to remember the concept, dimly. But surely this was another delusion, something that couldn't actually exist.

Jumping and squeaking at the sound of things falling to the ground, she could sense the frustration of the thing who was trying to help her. It wasn't a monster. A monster would have just ripped her to shreds out on the ground. And it wasn't associated with the black hole that even in the periphery of her mind made her want to gibber and fold up inside of herself. That broke her mind again in the momentary touch that she had from seeing it.

Some reflexive and self-preserving part of her mind refused to allow her to focus in that direction anymore. Refused to allow her to choose to break herself anymore than she already was. Whimpering as the shards of her mind attempted to come back together in some coherent form, Teafa felt something press against her neck, and a small prick injected something into her body. A gasp of relief and pleasure escaped her mouth as liquid relief and euphoria surged through her veins.

Finding that she could actually control her mind, at least a little, as the pain faded to what was a dull ache in comparison Teafa was able to actually see the man who stood before her. She knew she'd seen him before, as his essence felt familiar, but she couldn't actually pick out the memory from the brokenness of her mind. And then the coolness of the bacta began to touch her face, and she sighed in relief as the bacta neutralized the acid and she felt her face almost instantly stop dissolving where the strips touched.

Arms shaking, she managed to hold up her hands to show him how dirty and bloody her fingers were, knowing that they needed to be cleaned and cared for as well, and she was certainly not capable of doing so herself. She also managed to speak briefly, voice coming out muddled. "Ribs.. broken. Ri...Right side." A cough wracked her body, and she yelped in pain. At least she wasn't coughing up blood on top of everything else. Forcing herself to say one more thing, something she knew was important, though she couldn't have said why, she whispered as loudly as she could, "Thank you."

Aryan exhaled deeply through his nose and rocked back, taking a moment to simply study the woman lying before him. His eyes sought out her features, or what was left of them, as he tried to envision her as she appeared before she had been mercilessly maimed. It was unfair for her to suffer like this, particularly for one so young, and it made him feel insolent for dwelling on his own self-pity. But those two simple words, often uttered so casually on a day-to-day basis, meant so much. Despite being weak, they were sincere.

Pressing his pseudo arms to his bare torso in an effort to appear more normal, he reached out with his hand, his real hand, and touched her shoulder to show his gratitude. "Don't worry," he reassured her as he managed a small smile. "I'll take good care of you."

Without waiting for a response, he got to work, making a point to only use his two real hands as he started with her fractured ribs. In this instance, he recalled his prior military training, which afforded him a general understanding of first aid. For the ribs, he fashioned a makeshift brace out of a spare sheet to wrap around her midsection; this would work in tandem with a cold pack he had secured from the med kit to reduce the pain and swelling. As he began to apply pressure with the brace, he decided it would be to her benefit to provide a distraction to ease her worry. Perhaps keep her talking – or rather, to keep himself talking.

"So," he began, his chin angled downward as he worked. "I don't think I caught your name. It would sure make this whole process a lot easier..."

Drifting on the wave of drugs flowing through her system, Teafa began to feel mildly more normal. Her mind continued repairing itself. Some. Enough that she could actually follow what the man that was helping her was doing. And she noticed that her face wasn't in pain in the same way anymore, there was a coolness to it. A refreshing feeling of heeling flowing from the strips into her body. A soft sight escaped her, which brought a wince with it. Gratefulness suffused her entire being as she heard him say he would take care of her. Won't flinch. Has to touch. Has to. She steeled herself mentally. Sort of. There wasn't much steel left in her.

It hurt, what he ended up having to do to her ribs. The brace pressed into her and soft whimpers found their way out of her mouth, not that she had the wherewithal to actually stop them. She was doing good not to flinch every time his hands touched her. Then he asked her name. Who... Her mind struggled to dig up something as simple as her name. It felt detached somehow.

Casting about among the numerous broken shards of memory, things that didn't seem to connect to anything else, she found bits of abuse at the hands of slavers, the love of her parents. Harshness from one of her teachers when she'd muffed up a pet project, and Talwar's comforting embrace. Talwar. Miss.... lonely. Life... what is? Light? Flinching away from the thought, she continued searching until she found her name. For the man only a couple of seconds had passed, but for her it felt like an eternity.

"Teafa." She said softly. Is me? It still felt alien. Foreign. She knew that was her name, but that was before. Before the death. Before the emptying. Before her mind shattered. "Teafa." She said again, a little stronger, almost as though she were tasting it. Trying to digest it. Mentally shaking her head at the wrongness and rightness of it, she thought to ask, "Are who... you?" It wasn't right, the muscle memory in her mouth and what remained of her lips knew it, but her addled mind simply couldn't make the words come out right.

"Teafa," Aryan repeated with a nod, hoping that such a simple acknowledgement would be enough to restore some of her confidence. At the very least, it should provide some consolation to know that he was indeed listening. "Nice to meet you, Teafa."

As he finished patching her ribs, he reclined back, his expression dropping a bit as she asked for his own name in turn. While he knew the question had been harmless enough, it once again drew his thoughts inward to what he had become. It was a sense of self-loathing that began to form as a knot in the pit of his stomach. "Aryan," he said quietly, purposely leaving out all titles and accolades that he would have previously boasted about. "Just...Aryan."

He scoffed and lowered his head, a wry smile touching his lips. "You know, it's funny," he began, his gaze going distant as he felt his hands – all six of them – begin to clench together into fists. "For a brief moment, you thought you had it all, might have even been on your way to greatness, and then...well, look at me...that's all gone now." One of his hands, out of their own volition, came forward and slammed against the counter, sending the med kit and the rest of the supplies tumbling to the floor. For a long moment, he refused to move as he simply stared ahead into nothingness.

"Sometimes I wonder what it would've been like if it had never been dangled in front of my face in the first place," he spat, his features twisting into a sneer. "If I would've stayed on Coruscant. At least, then I would've died with my dignity still intact..."

A small smile tried to cross her lips, though it probably looked more like a grimace with what had happened to her face. Instead of speaking she tried to listen as he hadn't actually told her his name yet. It seemed that something was bothering him, his presence in the Force was certainly not in a peaceful place. Given everything he had already done for her, she wished she could help somehow. But there was nothing she could do concerning one of the things that was bothering, and what was really bothering him she didn't actually know yet.

While he was starting to talk, she caught his name. Aryan. Chancellor? Part of her remembered him being brought along. For some reason. It had never made much sense to her even then, now she didn't care about sense. Only that he had been there to help when she'd been most vulnerable. Then he started talking about having everything in front of him. Being chancellor that made some sense, but the six arms were a bit of a problem for image. He continued, and while that happened she felt a flare in the lightside outside. Enough so that it made her gasp and it distracted her from most of what he said. She caught him saying something about dignity, which given their current situation was mildly silly. And then a wave of pain exploded through the Force again and raw as her emotions and mind were she screamed.

And because her mind had been drawn in that direction again, she saw it happen. She saw whoever the beacon of light was be torn to shreds, in much the same way Insipid had been. And she saw him again. In all of his twisted glory, perverting and twisting the very nature of reality by his simple presence. In a way it was beautiful, the utter chaos and devastation that he was. And while her mind again twisted and writhed under the sight she began to appreciate it, and that scared her. Again her survival instincts saved her, and shifted her focus back to the shuttle. Back to their small shelter in the midst of the darkside storm and insanity that came with it. It was a fake shelter in reality, but so long as her mind remained in there she might be okay.

Softly she spoke not addressing anything he had said, completely unable to, "Doomed. Can't... Can't beat. Left-han..ded will.. doom." she couldn't really get it out in a way that would make that much sense, but it was the essence of how she felt. Probably how everyone there felt at that moment. What was left but to die?

And then... then... even more. Another dark mountain moved, something that had been dead. Gone. And it felt familiar somehow. Almost like Insipid, but so much larger. Her mind was drawn there against her will, and she could see shades of her master, but there was so much more there as well. The remains of more than a god. And more. This one at least had some sense of order to it, it wasn't an ethereal horror from beyond the veil, but still her battered mind simply couldn't take it. Had she not dealt with Typhojem already maybe, just maybe she could make some sense out of it. Instead she simply whispered, "Insi..pid... iss.. god?" She was unaware that her lips had moved, but maybe Aryan would have heard it since it was kind of slurred. Maybe the thought would give him some hope. Or perhaps it would terrify him.

TAG: @Sinrebirth, Darth_wanderguard, Lady Belligerent, HanSolo29, Those fighting the Typh.

 

24 hours ago…
The hum of the ship in hyperspace and the occasional shudder of in the black void of space were the only things audible. Draconis thumbed through an ancient text, his gaze moved back to the mission datapad swiping through information. Mortis. The Celestials. Abeloth. Typhojem. Draconis’ eyes went back to the ancient text fixated and reflecting as he read on about the coming fire and ruin…

Draconis and Hel
Outskirts of crumbling Tower

The tremor in the force was unnatural, neither dark nor light. Simply an unnatural violation that reverberated across the stars of the entire known galaxy and beyond. Death reigned as life was extinguish. Light became dark, fire turned to ice, everything seemed to start to begin to come unbound.

The massive Tower buckled and began to crumble, as the stone began to peel away and steel splintered and snapped like twigs. Massive chunks of stone slowly falling to the courtyard and impacting with deafening thuds one after the other. The tower seemed to be crumbling from within and from the top down.

The moment of previous respite and momentum of the battle potential shifting was gone, Draconis felt his hardened mask cracked as his fingers searched across it and he peeled it off, a slight grimace of pain from unseating it, as he tossed it to the side once free.

Draconis stared up into the sky watching it all unfolding for a moment as the tower crumbled and earth began to shake. All around Draconis could feel signatures in the force being ravaged by this massive surge. A crevasse opened beneath Draconis as the earth split dividing quickly and revealing a deep cavernous gouge. Draconis staggered and regained his stance peering down to see a lava stream far down below. Draconis leaped rolling on impact after landing on the other side and springing back up into a sprint which he quickly turned into a slide pushing aside loose gravel as he slid to the end of a collapsed wall. Hel clinging to a precipice on the edge of one of the crevasses that had opened within the earth. Draconis hand reached out searching and eventually clasping one of her hands as he snapped back up yanking her up with him.

“Go!”Draconis sternly yelled. As she began to rise, pulling her up out of one of the many cavernous cracks in the earth that had opened all around them. Almost dragging her along with him as she came upon solid ground on her feet.

Hel grasped the fractured stone and physically shook her head in hope of clearing her head. The lightning had left her sluggish and had dulled her usually sharp reflexes. She'd been fighting to block out the cyclone of emotions that kept flowing through the Force from her fellow Sith. There had been pain to fuel her body to fight, but the shock from death was playing horrible tricks on her mind. These were emotions she wasn't equipped to process.

Draconis' shouted command snapped her out of the fog. She grasped his hand tightly and opened herself to connect with him in the Force.
The connection coursed through him as he felt her veil in the force drop, a flash of memories ran through his mind as if having experienced many of them himself.
Memories and experiences of…. Hel. People, places, loved ones lost and found. Pain and suffering.

Consequently, the connection through the force opened him as well, even his hardened mind became vulnerable briefly as similarly memories and experiences would flow to Hel from him, as they had to Draconis from her. Not everything revealed by either but more than enough.

Draconis flashed back into the present, the rain of rock and rubble snapping him back into their presently dire situation. The whole force connection and reel of experiences and memories, the linking of them having seemed to have gone on forever, though it had only been a few brief seconds.

Draconis pulled Hel harder not releasing his grip as he broke into a sprint towards the shuttle. There would be time for questioning and answers, but right now they needed to get out of this place and off this world. Though with what Draconis knew, there really was no place to hide. Draconis still managed a hardened searing glance into Hel’s eyes, even as they began into a sprint, his expression that of a mix of anger, confusion, and intrigue. Draconis grunting ardently in disapproval, not having expected such a connection to materialize and unfurl! Again, there was no time for processing at present. Beyond and through one of the crumbling and remaining openings a shuttle roared down to the deck, stopping as it prepared to extract the remaining Sith surrounding the now crumbling tower. Draconis’ eyes and senses fixated on it as both Hel and he made their way towards it.

The tower was imploding, as debris rained down on them. Draconis dodged a large piece of stone that cratered into the courtyard, sending dirt and debris up, creating a brief haze of debris. The impact of a small chunk of something impacted and glazed off his shoulder, but he kept the pace up running through it. Draconis could feel Hel right in step beside him. Another impact causing him to falter slightly, though he quickly resumed the pace as he sidestepped and lurched forward avoiding another massive falling piece of the Son’s Tower. Draconis leapt forward as another crevasse opened before Hel and him, vaulting off a falling piece of the courtyard as it separated and began to fall detached from the crevasse wall. Making the jump from one to the next and landing on the other side seamlessly.

They were close… almost to the shuttle within a leap. When everything went dark. As a massive rain of wall and debris pummeled the area between where Draconis and Hel were and the shuttle. The very earth surrounding the temple seemed to sink into Mortis, as Draconis and Hel found themselves moving downwards briefly. Draconis was struck by a large piece of debris sending him forward and hard into the widening gouge in the earth. Quickly recovering Draconis came to his feet and turned to seek out Hel, who, she felt close.

The whole collapse had cut them off. The courtyard surrounding the mountain was still violently turning in on itself, and breaking apart almost pushing them in a direction. The shuttle could not be seen and they seemed to be well below the ground of the Tower courtyard. Trapped and cut off from the shuttle, cavernous walls surrounding them. Lava flowed below them. A natural dungeon and grave. All around they could feel a searing gaze searching, as the God was eviscerating everything he pleased to, giving no pause to the enjoyment of playing with what were insects in his realm.


Hel struggled to regain her footing, the large chunk of tower that had sent Draconis flying had tossed her in the opposite direction. Her hands and feet still tingled from the after effects of the lightning, and now she was battered from the stone pieces of the tower raining down on them. The beating her body had sustained wasn't the worst. No, internally Hel was an emotional wreck.

It was their deaths. So many had died, and she was so confused by the emotions. 'They told me I couldn't have feelings! Emotion is forbidden!'

"Draconis!" Hel realized he wasn't beside her and scrambled to one of the massive gaps in the soil that had opened around her. "Draconis!"

The ringing in his ears at least told him he was conscious and the pain in his body signified he was for now alive. In the previous minutes, up till and including now Draconis had felt the tremors and deaths of many including the Emperor. The pulsating force from the God now ravaging and having his way with the universe was surreal. Many, including Draconis never doubted the abilities and power of the force, but to feel it in such an unbridled way. It was fascinating as it was horrific even for ones devoted to the dark, the lack of resistance before it was staggering.

Draconis reached out briefly ad he could feel her close, Hel… but the settling dust and debris made visibility limited and tough to see as the dark clouds high above swallowed up the light, only the raging fires of battle and lava flows lit the landscape. Even in their isolated little sunken cavern it was chaos, as all remaining Sith forces struggled to make an exit.

Struggling through the disorientation of it all… the fall as the ground had swallowed them up along with the impact of the stone. She was still there.

“Draconis!” her voice cutting through the air, echoing slightly. Draconis stared forward visibility having begun to return to from his meld with the force… his vision focused and physical senses returned. A break in the cavern that they appeared at first to be trapped in was evident. Draconis stared at the escape knowing he could make it easily. Just leave her and go. The path was clear and whatever was happening with the Left-Handed God for now, they were under his radar for a moment.

“Draconis!” Her voice cut through even stronger than before. He could feel the conflict in her, doubt, confusion, anger, and emotion. It was there…the way out. A long exhale as Draconis’ lowered his head his eyes closing and hand balling to a fist as his head turned back towards the origin of Hel’s voice. Draconis was there in a flash vaulting across the expanse, landing beside Hel.

“This way NOW!”

Draconis moved away as quickly as he landed, springing back with a force jump across the small gap that he had just traversed. His stern commanding voice to Hel a mix of reassurance, confidence, and urgency per the dire nature of the current situation.

Draconis landed seamlessly moving into a sprint, as the symbolic light at the end of the tunnel, cavern in this case became brighter. As he emerged out onto a sheer cliff face on the outset of the tower courtyard plateau, which was still breaking apart and spewing fire. The heat and debris, the sheer proximity of it all clearly visible on Draconis’ face, which was now devoid of his mask… covered in grit, grim, sweat, and blood. There was not much in the way of a potential exodus. They were at another dead end, but at least not in a deep dark cavern…

Hel followed his lead, without question, in a stunned silence. She'd felt the Emperor's presence extinguished...gone. He was dead?There had been chatter that the Night Herald had betrayed them, but she wasn't clear what had happened.

"We're going to die," she told Draconis earnestly, "they're dying, and Insipid is - gone." She looked out over the flames and shifting rock plates, "I -," her voice was drowned out by a keening cry.

Her eyes widened and she backed away from the rocky edge, "I hope that's not what it sounded like," she gasped as the cry repeated.

"Uh, Draconis," Hel stuttered, "do Krayt dragons climb?"

She was on the verge of being hysterical, understandably. The hell and death unleashed upon them all was shattering to anyone’s core. Draconis knew this Sith Lady to not be some mere apprentice or Warrior. She had prowess and power in the force and darkness. Still it all was enough to shake and bring even the most stalwart of beings to edge of reason.

Rambling on about death… incoherently trying to grasp their situation.

Draconis grabbed the young woman by the collar forcefully. His hand clasping her garment at the neck, drawing her in and bringing her close to him, staring into her eyes. The levity of her casual remark was not lost, on him as he felt her trying to gain a grip on her fear and the situation. A mental smirk tugged at Draconis from her Krayt Dragon comment, though he did not show it on his pale face.

She was losing it. Draconis gazed into her eyes.

“Hel… HEL!”Draconis yelled while vigorously shaking her, seeking to snap her into the present and regain her gaze. Attempting to draw her back from mad abyss she was slipping into.

“Keep moving!”Draconis commanded to her. Draconis knew the shuttle was close, waiting as it gathered the last survivors and prepared to quickly depart. They needed to keep moving and get to it. A large sheer wall of rock separated from the cliff face they were on and slowly slid down… plummeting downward to the expanding lava flow. Draconis’ glanced over at the falling slab… steadying them both as the ground beneath their feet shook and began to break away as well. The ground under their feet was teetering on falling away.

The dire need to keep moving was evident as they were literally hanging on a cliff edge. They were running out of time and earth …

“NOW HEL!”

In that instance the ground buckled and began to give way…. Draconis grasped Hel firmly and swung her upward… as he began to spring up, his free hand seeking out a hand hold. Hel landing on a thin outcropping above with a hard impact, which was much more advantageous than plummeting to a fiery death below. Draconis’ legs dangled in the air against the cliff face as he clasped the handhold… his other hand free from tossing Hel up, quickly sought out and grabbed another jagged rock on the ledge Hel now was on. Draconis pulling himself upward onto the thin ledge Hel was on rolling into her almost on top of her as there was little space to keep from falling off into the sheer precipice around the tower plateau. Draconis grunted as he slowly pushed himself up and pressed his back against the cliff wall. The massive depth of the mountain side inches before him as he glanced at Hel.

“See who you can raise!” Draconis spoke with labored breaths though his words a had a calm air about them despite the fiery chaos about them.

"Ok. OK," Hel gasped for breath, "I'm not crazy. It's Mortis, this place...it's unstable on so many levels." Using her sleeve, she wiped dust from her face and looked around the exposed escarpment they'd landed on. Hel sat up and took out her comlink to do as Draconis had ordered, she grinned at him and asked, "I'm pretty sure Coruscant Air Taxi doesn't offer service this far out, did you have anyone else in mind?"

Draconis watch and listened as Hel wiped her face with her sleeve, barely managing to wipe away anything as the, ash and soot mixed with blood and sweat on both their faces. Her words Rock and flaming debris fell all around them. Draconis’ head turned slightly towards Hel casually remarking to who to try and reach. “Anyone not dead.”
The roar of rock grinding and scrapping against itself grew loud again as the surrounding cliff face attached to the tower plateau continued to break apart. Drawing Draconis’ attention again.

“We keep moving.”Draconis spoke with earnest, conviction that they had no other choice or stay here and die.

Hel’s head shook briefly as if caught off guard by the last statement, right as she’d been raising the comm-link to her lips and was to speak, to raise anyone but stopped stunned with a moment of bewilderment at Draconis last statement. The comm-link lowering slightly. “Move!?!?” Hel spoke. “Move where?!?!?”

Draconis did not wait to answer, though offered a parting comment spurring her to follow.


“Let’s see if dragons climb shall we?”Draconis spoke rhetorically as he turned and jumped up grasping a hand hold, swinging his hips to the side to reach and claps another as he began an accent.

@Sinrebirth @Lady Belligerent

 

GM Update 3 of 4

IC: Darth Haretisch -- In Hell

Hell was cold.

Even for the appearance of flame and ash, simply to exist in hell was a frigid sensation. Not in the physical sense - this was pain on a level far deeper. Truly there was no physical pain at all in Chaos, or at least what there would seem to be was simply a manifestation of mental pain. A mind's attempt to make sense out of the senseless, form out of the formless.

And so as Darth Haretisch shivered, it wasn't from the temperature of the air. It was instead an overwhelming aloneness which had set his bones to rattling. While he had long craved what he had imagined as the icy touch of nonexistence, what he had found instead beyond the veil of death was far less romantic. The void had become him, rather than he a piece of it, and it was a hollow, freezing space within. To exist in hell was to cease existing and yet to still feel the shame and the guilt and the hunger. Hunger most of all. For life. Such an alien feeling it was, to crave life so that he might protect a daughter whom he hadn't known to exist only minutes prior. Had he known of her sooner, even in the moments before the ritual, things would be quite different now.

His internal reflections on the cold were halted, as a searing fire erupted behind his eyes and spread to every corner of what he perceived to be his body, and beyond. He looked up to lock eyes with Syren as the last tremors subsided, knowing immediately the source of the attack, and gave her a defeated half-smile. 'I deserved that,' his expression would say. Perhaps he had wronged them all far too profoundly to expect anything else.

"As I told you before, my lord, I will pass," Syren said to Typhojem.

Haretisch furrowed his brow in surprise.

Darth Hades spoke up a moment afterward. "I stand with the living. I stand with the force. I stand opposed to you."

A deep baritone came next. "My master, I serve you no more." The lingering essence of Darth Cruor had manifest here in Chaos as a familiar form - a hulking Gen'Dai.

He looked at last to Manticore, daring to hope that the Battlelord would stay true to his own character and follow suit.

"We stand united. Against you."

The man's words carried weight. Perhaps all was not lost.

At last, one more familiar voice cut in, as a small, robed figure stepped up beside the Stygian Executor. "Defy you for eternity, we will. If we must." Darth Kralkus.

The Night Herald's jaw set with determination as the cold receded, minutely.

Then the Left-Handed Lord lashed out. All at once the lot of them would be buffeted with pangs of his rage - they would feel his one-hundred millennia struggle, the length and breadth of his journey to godhood. He would have them feel their own insignificance - and if captivated, each would shrink irreversibly into non-existence. He would consume them completely.

Haretisch himself was struck first, full-force, but the first wave of the psychic assault was deflected by his force of will. His desire to see Hel. But each wave would grow stronger. It was only a matter of time before they would all be overcome.

Flexing against the barrage, the Night Herald reached out to grasp at each mind under attack, and drew them all into something resembling a force meld. He hadn't thought it would work. And it probably wouldn't work for long.

Still, it had. For the moment. And as he weaved his consciousness together with them, each would feel his stalwart will to live. And he would feel the same from each who joined with him, and they would harden in their defiance of Typhojem.

Then something changed. Typhojem's attention became divided, his psychic assault weakened, and Haretisch felt Insipid touch him across the divide.

'Haretisch, you idiot! Get on with it!'

At that moment, Typhojem's physical embodiment lapsed, and instead in their midst a jagged rip in the very fabric of the dimension began to open, twisting and rolling and sputtering and spitting colors yet unseen. All of hell began to quake in that moment as it expanded, and in desperation, Typhojem struck at the meld again and again, levying titanic blows, roaring and howling, willing it to shatter and leave them vulnerable.

Haretisch steeled himself and yet nearly buckled with each attack, hoping that the others could withstand as well. It would take only one to falter, and they would all fail.

And with every blow, the rip in Chaos grew wider, like a wound drawn open by struggle.

Then it burst outward uncontrollably, and they would all be bathed in white as it enveloped them. Against all probability, the meld had not broken.

~~~

The white receded, and they were back on Mortis. Alive.

Alive! Manticore, Syren, Lorekeeper, Hades, Invidius, the Ithorian, the consort, Esmerelda, Darth Cruor, even Kralkus. They were all alive.

Haretisch lift himself from the rocky ground, taking stock of his physical form in excited confusion. His left arm was flesh again, as was his right leg. He was whole.

They were situated in a high place, not a mountain, but a steep hill perhaps. Nearby, the tower was crumbling.

Insipid was... gone. The Night Herald closed his eyes, searching through the force. Bellorum he could feel. But where once would have been Insipid's living essence was only an echo.

Typhojem was fragmented, having lost his bodily manifestation in realspace the same as in hell. Instead he existed now as a black miasma which hung about the ground, slowly coalescing. Something cataclysmic had happened to disable him, but he would recover.

"Bellorum lives," Haretisch turned and said. 'Hear me', he added quietly, reaching out to her in the force. Then he looked to Ike, solemnly, knowing the consort's mind. "I don't feel him either."

Nor could he identify Hel in the energies reverberating all around. He simply didn't know her presence well enough. He had to find her.

TAG: Sinrebirth, Lady Belligerent, Mikaboshi, QueenSabe7, greyjedi125, Darth_Elu, E. L.Knight

 

IC: Darth Anark
Mortis


The tower began its descent, gigantic chunks spewing forth from all directions as the colossal thing plummet to the ground, each level rapidly caving in on the one below it.

Darth Anark touched the ground of Mortis and began his sprint towards the hilltop. The Sith didn’t have even a second to spare dwelling on what he was almost certain had just happened – Insipid was gone, his powerful presence in the Force turned off like a light. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him. The wind pushing against him from the momentum felt ice cold and stung his mangled face, rogue pieces of flesh that clung on by a single strand of tissue flapped around in the breeze. The pain in his abdomen had dissipated and now felt like a piece of him that simply wasn’t there, numb.

He panted and struggled for breath as he began the upward battle to run up the steep side of the hill. He could see no one at the rendezvous yet, this concerned him but he was limited in choices and time here, not to mention his comlink had been lost in at some point during his battle with the cultists.

As he neared the peak, he fell multiple times, whimpering at the pain all over but still desperately wrestling with the Force to give him additional strength and using his good arm to clutch what he could of the terrain and heave himself towards his destination.

“Stay here.” It said solemnly, a calm quality to the usual frantic voice that did not exist in his mind.

“He’ll make you a God too. Just you wait and see…”

“Uarrgghhh!” Anark barked, pulling himself up the last few meters below the peak.

“I’m so done with your advise! He wants to kill us! He took our FACE!!!" The last word came out accompanied by a brilliant spray of saliva.
"Our fate will not differ from that of the rest of The Order. I leave here with my brothers and sisters.”

Darth Anark reached the top and let his face lay flat on the dirt.

He kept himself conscious and listened out for either the sound of footsteps or the sound of a ship…

TAG: Lady Belligerent corinthia Halle Dray Moonspun Dragon mainly but one and all.​

 

Darth Hades
Hell

Hades stood with his fellow Sith, proud to know they were united against Typhojem. And then the so-called god began to throw a tantrum. The wave that blew over him amidst the onslaught was powerful, so much so that Hades nearly fell to his knees. Nearly. He refused to fall. He wouldn't give this thing the satisfaction he so wanted in the Sith falling before him.​

​

As he felt the power of the Force try to consume him in ways he could barely describe, he felt Harestisch reach out and touch his mind and from there, reach out to touch others. He was building a Force Meld with the group standing before Typhojem and Hades, for Hel, let him have full access.​

​

Hades knew not what machinations had taken place to bring them fully to this point, but he did know that against Typhojem, everyone was an ally. Typhojem would destroy them all if they did not defy him.​

​

The connections grew in strength with each added member and soon, they were stronger together than anyone of them ever could be as a single unit apart.​

​

Then, Typhojem shifted focus and the assault faltered. Insipid? Hades did not understand fully, but what he did sense was that their Emperor was now as powerful as Typhojem in many was, if not fully. It was too immense a battle to fully focus on once the two came together to brawl, and Hades did not feel the need to focus on it.​

​

What came next was a renewed assault of a different nature. Pain. Blinding, pounding, unstoppable pain. With each blow came a flash so bright that Hades thought he would burn away with it. And this pain wasn't physical, no, it was deeper. His soul felt it.​

​

Ad yet, he refused to fall.​

​

Hades had cowered in the dark jungles of Haruun Kal, hiding as he was hunted for being a devil and a freak. He'd been found a few times and beaten nearly to death, but they always left him to the jungle. That had been their mistake. the jungle had whispered with dark power, and Hades had answered. He listened and learned and soon, THEY were hunted by him. He was savage and hunted them like a beast. He gave no mercy and killed those who had hunted him.​

​

And then the first Hades and Angellus had taken him and freed him, only to reveal they were not Sith as they had claimed.​

​

So Hades did what every apprentice who surpasses their Master does, he killed them and took their place.​

​

So, no, he was not going to be forced to cower in fear or submit to anyone he did not choose to submit to. He was beyond being FORCED to do anything.​

​

The white flashes grew and soon Hades could see a tear, a rip, in what looked to be reality. Hell was being rend apart.​

​

A bright flash of white enveloped all of them and suddenly, the pain stopped.​

​

Mortis

​

The white bled into colors, bright colors, and Hades then felt alive once more. Twice now he had been resurrected from nothing. That was probably a first in the entire galaxy. He looked at his hands and clenched his fists. Oh how it felt to be back, alive.​

​

Hades, though, was wearing an odd set of armor. It was not his, nor had it ever been his. But that mystery could be solved later.​

​

He quickly thrust his mind outward to take stock of what was going on, and felt others quickly approaching.​

​

TAG: Darth_wanderguard, Lady Belligerent, Mikaboshi, QueenSabe7, greyjedi125, Darth_Elu, any I've forgotten

 

IC: Manticore, the Stygian Executor
Betwixt hither & thither, ’tis Hell-yet neither

"Defy you for eternity, we will. If we must."

Manticore looked down and found himself able to hide his surprise at hearing the voice of Darth Kralkus. The zabrak nodded respectfully at the diminutive Sith and smirked at his words. Indeed, they would all defy the Left Handed Lord. He could very well destroy them all in a blink, but there was nothing he could do to gain their obedience.

Manticore took another look about and regarded his kindred, half-expecting to see Digrant among them.

Their unified front would not go without consequence. Typhojem made his displeasure at their little rebellion known. With no warning whatsoever, the gathered sith came under a massive psychic assault of nigh overwhelming magnitude.

As Manticore struggled to fend off the mental assault with the core of his will, he also felt something else.

Harestisch.

Not only did he sense the Night Herald bolstering his own defenses, but those of the other sith as well. Haretisch had created a mind meld, even here. Unexpected, but welcomed. Indeed, the sith were stronger together.

Against Typhojem, no one was considered an enemy. Without hesitation, Manticore joined his will with that of the Night Herald. There was no changing what was done, opposing and ending Typhojem was the only objective now.

It took every iota of will power for the sith to mentally stand against such overwhelming odds, but not only that, their efforts were also aided by the titanic battle taking place in the material realm.

A blinding white flash swept over all who were present, and in an instant, they were all back on Mortis.

Alive.

Syren, Lorekeeper, Hades, Invidius, Esmerelda, Darth Cruor, even Kralkus.

Manticore wasted not one tic of a second. The currents of battle were still churning powerfully and each second was more precious than the last. One glance and one sweep of his force senses revealed all he needed to know.

The zabrak closed his eyes for one tic, with one hand outstretched- sensing, searching. In contrast to everything else, he could well imagine what it felt like as he sought it. Where did he see it last?

As he continued to search, the presence of other sith were revealed, alive and well- however, there was no sense or sign whatsoever of Emperor Insipid.

"Bellorum LIVES!” He heard Haretisch declare aloud- confirming his suspicion.

At that pronouncement, his fiery eyes opened. He found what he was looking for. The Sith Empress had the weapon in her possession.

Without wasting another moment, the zabrak walked over to Haretisch, his fiery gaze directing the Night Herald’s to where the pool of malevolence was located.

Typhojem was fragmented, both in the material realm and the spirit world. At the moment, he existed as a black miasma slowly coalescing on the ground. He was vulnerable. There was no better time to strike.

“The Dagger of Mortis.” Manticore rasped.

“Tell the Empress we need it now, or all this would truly be for nothing.”


Tag: @Darth_wanderguard, @Darth_Elu, @Mikaboshi, @QueenSabe7, @Lady Belligerent, everyone present

 

IC: Kwea Acantha
Mortis

Not only was today that day Kwea had killed Abeloth, but it was also the day she was made third in command under Lady Bellorum. The gods had blessed her. Or she was just extremely amazing. Probably the latter.

Lady Bellorum had just spoken into the comm on her ship telling the remaining Sith that they were en route to the Son’s Tower. Everyone was to meet there and fight for the remainder of the Empire.

However, there was that name again. Typhojem. Who the hell was this person?

Then Kwea felt a little tingle on her neck. She was strapped in to her crash webbing and assumed it was a little fluff blowing through the air. However, it came again, stronger this time, and from within. Kwea closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, sinking into the Force. She felt an entity. Something that was filling in space but wasn’t quite a being.

This was Typhojem. Kwea felt a tinge of fear in her stomach and snapped her eyes open. She realized she was sweating and breathing heavily. Her mind told her she had brushed death. He was here. Perhaps not here per say but he was there, in the surrounding Force.

Lady Bellorum had been in meditation but was now peering out the viewport. "It's Insipid," Bellorum said quietly, "he's back somehow, and he's fighting Typhojem."

Great, so Typhojem could be multiple places. Or he just moved superfast.

Wait, wasn’t Insipid dead? Kwea was so confused but she decided to not care because the Sith were crazy anyway.

There was suddenly a massive jolt and Kwea was thrown, along with all the others, against her crash webbing.

She heard 4T tweedle loudly and Kwea just gritted her teeth, trying to regain what little balance she could have.

The turmoil that had thrown them abruptly subsided and was gone. What replaced it was the feeling of life. The Sith! They were coming alive again! Kwea didn’t even question it.

Bellorum told them to hurry and Kwea got out of her crash webbing and began to ready the gear and such they would need to get everyone on board.

Absentmindedly, she slipped her hand into her pocket and felt something squishy. She peered inside and saw a mushroom. A freaking mushroom was growing in her pocket. Kwea knew she didn't always do her laundry but she couldn't have screwed up that bad. Then she saw the holocron glowing rather happily almost. Today was certainly boggling her mind so she just slipped her hand back out of the pocket and sent a little message to the holocron.

"What can you tell me about Typhojem?"


Tags: Lady Belligerent DarthIshyZ Mitth_Fisto Sinrebirth corinthia

 

IC: Darth Kronos

-What?

____________________________________________________________________________

What?

That was the only reaction Kronos had to the revealng events, except for the silent despair, angst, and sadness, which would always remain. But that would be an aside compared to everything else that was happening to the group. In that current moment, anyway.

Typhojem had, instead of outright killing the remaining Blade Squadron members, floated away from them, without even sparing a second glance, for motives unknown to Kronos. Which was probably a good thing.

In the attempt to trap the team on Mortis for good, was when Insipid stepped in, somehow back from the dead - and with a higher form of power, one that could stand up to the God, even temporarily, sending Him flying elsewhere. And he was about to follow them, aid the Emperor in his endevours, perhaps give the final killing blow to Him.

But that was when Bellorum's plea came through the comlink, urging them to retreat back into nearby ships. She even referred to herself as Empress, at first implying, and then bluntly stating, that the other two Triumvirate members were dead, and she was the only surviving member. But, he had just seen Insipid rush off to fight the God. Was he dead, alive, somewhere in between?

He decided matters were far too beyond him to consider it.

And despite wanting to avenge Esmerelda, so much, it would become strongly and quickly apparent it would be physically impossible to do so. He was far too out of his own game. He would just have to come to accept and silently mourn her death for the years to come.

As such, he retreated back, towards the awaiting ships, toward the hill. He spared no glance back to the others, not caring whether or not they ran with him, or chose to remain and die. He just continued to trudge along.

Once he reached one of the shuttles, he took a seat near a more secluded area of the ship, head down and deep within his own thoughts. Throughout all of his anger, despair, and general confusion, Kronos would not have seen, nor sensed, that Esmerelda was once again alive. She would have to confront him then and there.

TAG: Sinrebirth Lady Belligerent

 

Darth Hades
Mortis

Hades looked at his new armor and wondered at it. It was black and red and the chest plate had spikes coming from it. Very sith-like. Arm and Leg armor to match, too. His boots were almost exactly like his old ones, except red and black as well. He disliked the idea his tattoos were covered, but the armor would afford him a very new style of fighting. He could tell it was cortosis weave. He'd sold enough of it over the years to know how it looked and felt, but it was also built with Mandalorian Iron as well.​

​

Interesting.​

​

Even more interesting was the fact that there was a mask that went with the armor, and a hood.​

​

He was unsure if he would actually keep the armor for full use, but it seemed like a gift he shouldn't just reject either.​

​

As the shuttle arrived, he boarded and took a seat. He removed the hood and mask, so no one would question who he was with the new armor.​

​

TAG: ALL

 

IC: Darth Hesper
Mortis, Gathering the Survivors

Once Hesper reached the cockpit, Arach already had the engines running—but the pilot’s seat was open to her, and she took it, hands trembling in the aftershock of the pain she’d just experienced. But she was resolute, and plans for her future were already unfolding in her mind. Hesper slipped on the pilot’s headset and nodded in acknowledgment towards Arach. For a brief moment, Hesper thought about how unfortunate it was that the co-pilot’s seat was on her right-hand side, which left Hesper’s blind side uncovered. But she only thought this in passing—there was little time to worry about what could and couldn’t be seen. She did, after all, have the Force. Bellorum soon joined she and Arach in the cockpit, taking a seat directly behind Hesper. Hesper and Arach were zooming through a quick pre-flight check, and as soon as they finished, Bellorum leaned forward and switched on a comm channel.

“This is Empress Bellorum,” she said, and Hesper’s heart skipped a beat. Hesper had sensed, though somewhat dimly, the demise of many, including the now former Emperor Insipid. Bellorum wastes no time, Hesper thought with a sinking feeling. She had just begun to trust Emperor Insipid, and now she would have to trust a different ruler. Possibly. “My shuttle is en route to the Son’s Tower. I’m transmitting coordinates for your extraction—quickly gather there. Send your location to Hesper if it’s not possible to get there.” Bellorum paused. “Two thirds of the Triumvirate have died this day, but there is no time to mourn. We move on and the Empire survives.”

Hesper pressed her lips into a thin grim line. The Sith Empire had undergone much change in such a short amount of time—even Hesper herself had climbed the ranks so quickly she could not believe she had arrived on Moraband not but a short standard week earlier. Within just one week of officially being with the Sith, Hesper had accomplished more than she ever had training herself on Coruscant, or during the year after her husband’s death she had spent travelling the galaxy and training herself on a multitude of worlds, acclimating herself to different environments and different populations, learning the ways of the galaxy at large that she had been sheltered from on both Naboo and Coruscant. The muscles in Hesper’s jaw tensed. The Sith, if anything, wasted no time.

Then Bellorum continued to speak. “High Lord Hesper is now my Hand, and she answers only to me,” she said. Stunned, Hesper turned to look at Bellorum over her shoulder. She had… not expected that. Hesper knew what it meant to be the Emperor’s—or Empress’—Hand. She had done her research. Hesper returned her eye to the control console. While she was unprepared to take on such a level of loyalty and trust with a woman she had met for the first time a day and a half earlier, Hesper knew she had to do what she must. And all else aside, perhaps the Empress’ trust could benefit Hesper in more ways than she knew. Bellorum continued to speak. “High Lord Arach is my second in command, and Kwea is my third. Zalen, you’ll be needed to lead rebuilding our ranks, your knowledge and experience will be relied heavily on. Now, we need to act quickly and get as far away from Typhojem as possible. Get to the extraction point. We leave no one behind.” Bellorum then ended her transmission, and Hesper and Arach were already lifting off, heading to the extraction point Bellorum had indicated.

Hesper was chewing on what Bellorum had announced when Bellorum leaned close and spoke into Hesper’s ear. “I’m placing my trust in you—do not fail me. Now, let’s pick up the rest of my Empire.”

“Yes, my Empress,” Hesper muttered as Bellorum settled into her seat and fastened her safety belts. Hesper’s gaze was nigh on murderous as they whizzed over the landscape of Mortis, and her thoughts churned in her mind. She did not like the turn the Empire was making. There was far too much betrayal afoot, and Hesper was not sure how she would fit in with all that had happened. Yes, she was the Empress’ Hand, but were her loyalties truly with the Chiss woman who had just seized the throne? Hesper was not used to building and rebuilding loyalty so quickly, and her heart screamed against the change, urging her to sever all loyalties to particular beings and instead place her loyalty in the Sith itself. To hell with Bellorum, Haretisch, and Insipid. To hell with the lot of them!

But Hesper’s mind won out—she would need to be methodical. She would need to plan, and approach all the changes within the Empire with logic and strategy. She would be Bellorum’s Hand, if Bellorum so desired, and she would do her job better than was expected of her. And she would bide her time.

A short amount of time passed as the cockpit fell into a deeply quiet state and Hesper meditated on her thoughts. But then, suddenly, Bellorum jerked upright, and an immediate sense of danger was thrust upon them. The cockpit’s viewport was suddenly filled with the sight of Typhojem fighting the Son—no! Not the Son.

“It’s Insipid,” Bellorum gasped quietly. “He’s back somehow, and he’s fighting Typhojem.”

Hesper swore.

Then Insipid grabbed the shuttle, and hurled it at Typhojem. “Brace for impact!” Hesper roared as they crashed into Typhojem. She was thrown violently against her seat’s harness, stopping her from impaling herself on the steering yoke. Bellorum yelled roughly from behind her. Alarms and warning lights screeched and blinked from the console, and Hesper’s hands flew over the controls, righting what she could.

“He’s distracting Typhojem so we can get away—go!” Bellorum urged. “I can guarantee a feast, way bigger than the last one if we get out of here alive. I might even finesse a shopping trip for outfits since I still have Haretisch's account information,” she chuckled.

Hesper didn’t necessarily find it funny, nor did she think a shopping trip was necessary, but nonetheless she punched the accelerator and rushed the shuttle out of harm’s way. They soon reached the extraction point, and Hesper circled it, preparing to set down and collect up the survivors.

“Hurry,” Bellorum pressed, and Hesper shot her a hard glance over her shoulder.

“Engaging landing struts,” she said, and flipped a series of switches as they drew nearer to the ground. “Landing struts locked.” Hesper pressed the “lock” button for the struts, and the shuttle set down with a soft jostle. She immediately lowered the boarding ramp.

“Ladies,” Bellorum said as Hesper set about unbuckling herself to help bring the survivors on board, “I believe our passenger list was just expanded.”

And then she felt it—Haretisch was alive. As were many others she thought had died. It gave Hesper pause as she accounted in the Force for all who were waiting on the hill at the rendezvous point. She closed her eyes for a brief moment before throwing off her crash webbing, removing her headset, and standing. “Let’s get the survivors on board,” she said. “All of them.”

With great purpose, Hesper strode to the shuttle’s boarding ramp just as it was touching down, and immediately she saw the faces of many of those waiting for their aid. Many of them she recognized: Syren, the Lorekeeper, Radian the Jedi, Jwob the Ithorian, Manticore, someone lying face-down who possibly could have been Anark had he had a face left to speak of, her apprentice Cocytus, and… Haretisch. Her blood boiled at the sight of him, and she wasn’t sure why. But then, at the edge of her blind spot, she saw a familiar face, one she had just seen a white sheet thrown over. “Ike,” she breathed. He was alive!

“Come on aboard,” she called out. “There’s no time to waste.” Striding down the ramp herself, she reached out with the Force to help poor faceless Anark up to his knees. As she saw the full extent of his facelessness, she fought the urge to vomit. “Oh, poor Anark,” she murmured as she came closer. “Typhojem got to you, didn’t he?” Hesper knelt beside Anark and pulled his arm around her shoulder, propping him up. Last she had interacted with him, she had helped him suss out what his lady Tarkana was up to before they had landed on Coruscant. Now, Anark seemed far more broken and crazed than he ever had before. “I need a stretcher!” Hesper bellowed back up the ramp, hoping Kwea or Zalen would hear her and bring an antigrav stretcher.

She watched as the survivors filed onto the shuttle—those she knew and those she didn’t alike. There were about nine others she didn’t quite recognize, including a young woman, a Gen’Dai who radiated power, a Wookiee, and a Ssi-Ruu. The battle of Mortis had been brutal. Everyone seemed shaken and injured, and the absence of a few resonated quietly in Hesper’s heart. She passively wondered where the Chancellor might be, but let the thought go as soon as it had developed. A stretcher was brought forth for Anark, and Hesper helped him onto it, guiding it up and into the shuttle and directly to the medbay.

Hesper passed through the passenger hold on her way towards the cockpit and absently counted those on board. As she reached the cockpit, she found Ike in one of the rearmost seats, face in his hands, crying. It wrenched her heart. Silently, she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and reached out with the Force to him.


“I’m glad to see you again, brother,” she murmured to Ike, and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving to take the pilot’s seat again. It was time to get everyone out.


TAG: Lady Belligerent, Sinrebirth, Darth_wanderguard, Snokers, Halle Dray, Moonspun Dragon, everyone else

 

IC:Manticore
Escape from Mortis

He was aware that a ship which carried the new Sith Empress and her Lords, had landed hastily and was now boarding all those who could only be called ‘survivors’; a word that generally included those who lived through the Battle of Mortis, as well as those who had been somehow brought back.

But not everyone was brought back, Manticore noticed- or at least not back on Mortis.

A side-glance revealed the newly returned Darth Hades in splendorous black and red warrior armor. It was a thing of enviable design. Manticore looked down at his own person, and saw himself arrayed in only the simplest sith attire: Black loose fitting training slacks with a red sash across the abdomen and a black vest. Black boots covered his feet. He recognized this old attire very well.

Manticore's red and black tattoos and mythical beast were on display to be seen, and his raven hair was in its customary long black braid, spilling down his back.

Prompted by curiosity, he reached up with a hand, and experienced a tinge of surprise when he felt a horn no longer missing from his crown. Curious, most curious. He could well interpret this a few ways, if given the chance.

Changes and nuances aside, a sense of urgency was palpable all around, as everyone was quickly boarding the Empress’ Ship. Time was of the essence, and the Son’s Tower was already compromised.

Manticore turned his head and gazed at Haretisch.

In his mind, he recalled how the Dagger of Mortis had been useless against Typhojem. Manticore snorted at the ‘uselessness’ of the so called celestial weapon. Sure, it critically wounded Abeloth, which was indeed a feat of Epic proportions- but, the dagger was a one time cantrip, it seemed.

Manticore returned his penetrating gaze and scowled at the malevolent pool of viscosity that was Typhojem. It looked like it was slowly regenerating. If that was true, then what use was running? There was nowhere in the galaxy they could go to escape the Ancient One’s wrath.

Manticore’s eyes flashed and a flames burst suddenly, enshrouding the malevolent pool. At least he would try to incinerate it, or slow it down, if at all possible. Insipid had clearly weakened it, dealt the Dark One a critical -if not mortal- blow. This was the time to finish things.

“If you know how to kill this thing, or seal it away again, I urge you to speak the words, Haretisch. I care not to indulge Typhojem’s hospitality…and neither should you.”

There would be more than enough time to lick wounds and rebuild what was lost, once this threat was eliminated- once and for all.


Tag: Darth_wanderguard, anyone else nearby

 

IC: Jwob Sebb and The Lorekeeper
Mortis hilltop

Jwob was standing on the hill. A hill. He had just been in hell. Such a dizzying array of places all in the recent hours. At the beginning of this day he had just climbed into his beloved Brehe with Darth Deathy. Little did he know what would transpire since then.

And little did he know what he would learn. Haretisch had betrayed us. To become second in command. He was already second in command. Yes, the new situation would be second to an omnipotent being, but still second is second.

He would need to discuss this with Master Bellorum, to be sure.

Apparently the group of us is waiting for a shuttle to arrive. As it approached, he looked around at the group. Haretisch was there, too. He didn't seem to be... detested, reviled, whatever the word is. To him Haretisch was scum and shouldn't be allowed with us. He needed to talk to someone about it. He saw the Lorekeeper standing nearby, so he approached him and asked to speak to him.

The Lorekeeper was still rather shaken from the entire ordeal, but he remembered the Ithorian and since there were no windows nearby he decided it would be alright to talk.

They would have to be quick though, the shuttle was nearby.

"Have you changed your mind about that precedure?"

"Yes, uh No, uh What? No. No no. I'm confused." Jwob rubbed the top of his head. This wouldn't be treason since Heratisch wasn't a Triumvir any more... he thought. He spoke low anyway. "Haretisch. Shouldn't we just leave that... man... here?"

Ah, now he understood. The traitor. The Lorekeeper considered the former Triumvir, a broken man now, a man who wanted life. They could leave him here as the Ithorian suggested, it was a tempting thought, even better would be to kill him. That would be a reward far more deserving.

The librarian had read many tales of revenge however, and those that seemed especially heinous were the ones which took years to see fulfilled.

No doubt in an organization such as the Sith there would be many who would see Haretisch dead for his betrayal, it's possible that the new Empress could even look upon one with favor should they extract revenge upon him. Some may seek an even more sinister form of justice, if one is crafty enough they could plant seeds of division between the new father and his daughter.

"He would not remain here, better he come with us." He nodded as he looked at the former Night Herald, "Yes, much better."

His eyes turned to the Ithorian once again, "You can tell him to stay however, if you wish." The Lorekeeper wanted no part of it, Haretisch had already killed him once today....he didn't want to die again.

The Ithorian growled. A sound much louder than he'd wanted. But there was no more time. With the shuttle here, the group started to embark. Haretisch was near the front of the line, too.

"Just tell me there will be... justice served." Jwob growled again.

He thought back to crimes unpunished. Fellow Ithorians who had destroyed Mother Jungle. Beings he'd heard about while trading who had committed unspeakable acts and gotten away with it.

The Lorekeeper regarded Haretisch once more but this time he focused on the Force around him, how it interact with the man, try as he might he could not sense his future. There was no way for him to know if justice would be served.

Then again, he didn't find himself too concerned about the matter, he never had much desire to involve himself in the politics of the Empire. He planned on returning to his library as soon as possible, V-3PO had not contacted him in days and he was still worried about the fire damage.

"You will see a great many injustices in the Sith Empire." Turned to face the Ithorian once again he continued, "It is the way of the Sith." He stared at Jwob a bit longer, "If you want justice, you must be strong enough to deliver it yourself. That is also the way of the Sith." With that he smiled and turned toward the shuttle, already he could see Darth Cruor preparing to board and he wanted to remain close to the risen Lord.

Tag: No one

 

IC: Darth Cocytus, Darth Ravenous, and Radian

Darth Cocytus continued to fight valiantly against Typhojen with both blade and sith lightning along with his fellow sith and hated jedi. As always he called upon the power of the dark side with his fear, his anger, his hatred, his endless desire for power and knowledge, and his sadistic pleasure towards the continuing suffering of all throughout the galaxy which he felt, all with the single goal of destroying the Sith God once and for all. However, even with all the power of the Dark Side of the force, the Kaminoan began to wonder how utterly futile this battle was.

Cocytus glanced to find Cade Skywalker, once a cursedly bright beacon, now squashed and snuffed out by the Left Handed God. The kaminoan began to feel a mixture of emotions; fear of his own demise and absolute sadistic joy towards the destruction of the hated jedi. He began to back away ever slowly and steadily, still lashing out at Typhojem with the dual-goal of destroying the God of Sith once and for all and surviving at all costs no matter what. However, the kaninoan began to wonder if there was any point to this. Oddly enough, Typhojen didn't seem to take any notice towards him. The abomination killed many, feeding Cocytus even more suffering, while only harming some and leaving others including Cocytus utterly alone.

Then Darth Cocytus felt a new force come into existence. One oddly familiar. He looked and his eyes widened to see none other than... Son? No. It couldn't be. It didn't take long for Cocytus to put the pieces together to realize that this was Darth Insipid taking on a new form to fight Typhojem. Suddenly, Darth Cocytus heard a voice coming from a transmission. It was Darth Bellorum, now Empress no doubt, calling them to board ships. Cocytus, growling with hatred and determination to live, nodded and turned off his lightsaber, only to watch with further hatred, (and a small amount of relief) Typhojem leave to deal with Insipid.

Darth Cocytus, his eyes ominously glowing burning yellow without irises like two orbs of flames floating in place inside empty eye sockets, turned and glared at Ravenous and Radian, pure cold and unadulterated hatred directed at the latter. "Come." he spoke coldly and simply, "The Empress demands our presence. We are leaving this cursed world."

His eyes furrowed upon glaring at Radian and pointed at the jedi. "But you jedi." he snarled bittler, ignoring Typhojem getting blown away by a great force as he pointed at towards him, "For thousands of years we Sith continuously have tried to cleanse the galaxy of your filth. Why won't your kind ever die like they should? Why do you still exist?"

Death... death was all Radian felt as he collapsed to his knees. He hadn't seen Cade fall, but he felt it. Felt every aching moment.

K'Kruhk, Gar Stazi, Marasiah Fel, now Cade Skywalker.

All hope was lost he knew.
The darkness had won, and he was preparing to accept death as he went numb to the chaos that surrounded him.

But something inside him wouldn't let up.

A gnawing hope.

His mind recoiled back decades to his days as an apprentice.
And one phrase came to mind.
Something his Master told him in the aftermath of a massive battle.
One that was scarring, and deadly in his teenage mind, as he had witnessed three-fourths of his masters force slaughtered that day in exchange for what was little more than a pyrrhic victory on a backwater moon he couldn't even remember the name of.

"As long as there is one Jedi, the light will live on."

And with that in mind he called his lightsaber to his hands, and leapt spinning in an attack, not even bothering to wipe the single tear off his face as he prepared for the fight of his life.

Only to barely register the recall signal.

He landed squarely on his feet.
Calm in the force, he neither felt fear, nor anger.
And he knew he had to be the surviving light in the ever darkening world.

The Kaminoans words rang in his ear.
They were taunting words, but he would not bite.

"We survive because someone has to stand for what is right."

He spoke in a calm unquivering voice.

And deactivated his blade as he turned around and slowly began his retreat.

Ravenous wasted no time following the emotionally distraught Jedi, he wanted to leave this place as soon as possible as well. They had been fighting against impossible odds since they arrived. He stared at the back of Radian's head, wishing he would turn around revealing himself as Nubia. But it was in vain, yet he felt a creeping guilt bury its' fangs into his stomach. He wondered of the Jedi's fate after this, would he live or would he fall victim to a crimson saber through his back? The Wookiee howled the lingering, unspoken question in their quick pace.

"What is your plan Jedi, surely you don't think you're getting out of this alive? Those who survived... A plan is always in motion, but you no longer are a part of it. You must realize this?"

The inquisition wasn't threatening, he truly wanted to know. Without the Light, there can be no Dark. Cocytus was somewhere close. He didn't really know the Kaminoan and didn't trust their species in general. Maybe it was the eyes?

The Wookiee knew one thing for sure; Darth Cocytus had a deep hatred of Radian's faith and the Jedi in general. Ravenous actually thought Radian earned his right of escaping this planet just as much as any of his own Sith Brothers and Sisters.

One thing... The only thing that remained the same...

They had to get off planet.

Radians feet halted momentarily, as he closed his eyes in patient meditation.

It was quiet the question. One he had been asking himself ever since his arrival on Morraband. He also knew of Aryan Grauls own apprehensions in that matter, though the human was good at masking his emotions, he had to know once the Sith got what they wanted from him, from both of them, they would be dead. Such apprehensions were understandable, and likely were known by the Sith. neither of them could focus on masking such feeling permanently, and they must have leaked into the force whenever their focus waned.

It was no secret what the outcome of this all would be, he did not expect for a moment to live past the second in which the Sith Emperor deemed him no longer of use. He would never turn his back on the light, but as long as there was air in his lungs, and blood pumping though his heart, he would dedicate himself to justice.

"There is no Death, only the Force." He said after a short pause.
He did not turn to face the Wookiee, and he didn't even acknowledge the Kaminoans presence.

"If it is the forces will I am not afraid to die, there are other Jedi, I am but one. I do what I may in the moment, and the future is not yet determined."

Cocytus's eyes furrowed upon hearing Radian's words and as he watched him run. He would chase after him. The hunger of killing jedi greatly urged him to. However, the risk of staying on this doomed planet outweighed such an appetite. Right? the kaminoan growled internally nonetheless, the very word urging him to vomit in disgust, Who gives this wretched fool the authority over such a thing as right and wrong? Such concepts are part of what makes the jedi weak.

Cocytus was about to turn and leave, but the wookie's words struck him a little. Yes, it did occur to him that the jedi scum was part of Insipid's plan for whatever reason. Now he's no longer needed and the kaminoan saw that the human knew it. Darth Cocytus turned back and smirked to see just how close the jedi filth was. The urge to kill now outweighed his desire to escape for just a moment. Cocytus began to walk closer to Radian with a cruel smile. However, when he heard the Jedi's words, he begaj to realize that he had no fear of death. Cocytus growled with a sneer at such patheticness, but after a moment, the Sith's smile returned ever crueler and much colder. Foolish jedi. he spoke coldly, So naive to think that I'll grant such mercy.

The kaminoan continued to get closer to Radian, lightsaber in hand. However, he had no plans to kill. Such a thing would be quite boring to Cocytus. Instead, he sought to give him something worse. Darth Cocytus raised the hilt of his lightsaber and brutally swung it down in an attempt to knock the jedi out.

Radian felt the light encompass him, and the force control his actions as he rolled to the side dodging the fools blow.

"I take it you do not want to survive?"
He spoke in tone that was not mocking in the least, yet he could understand how taken out of context one might mistake his intent.
Hastily he added-
"Even were you to kill me, your escape shuttle would most certainly have left by the time you get to it. And even that is assuming..." he grasped for the words, as he gestured towards the creature. They came to him in a moment later via the force. "...Typhojen, yes that is what it is called. Assuming it does not kill you first."

Radian still had not reactivated his lighstaber, but maintained a steady gaze at the long necked Sith, and his finger on the switch of his hilt.

He also gave a reach out to Ravenous in the force, curious of what the Wookiee would do. No way he would come to his defense, but he wondered if he would join in Cocytus's preemptive strike.

It was curious as the Wookiee stood back, indifferent to the conflict unfolding before him. He could stop the attack, Kriff, he could end both of these polar opposites. Ravenous knew there was no point in fighting one another. After all, we all become dust after we fade to black. The Dark Side deity that could bend reality to his will could destroy the world with his power and he wanted to get as far away from him as he could, even if it meant leaving these two extremists behind. He said one last statement before making his way back outside, away from Typhojem... and... another.

"Go ahead, Cocytus... Kill him, if that is what the Dark Side commands. But we both know it is your selfish desires that want him dead. It is time to leave, save your hatred for another time."

It was a long droned howl that faded as he walked away.

Darth Cocytus, eyes widening upon Radian's dodge and his smirk turning into a sour sneer, cursed himself when his plan failed. The kaminoan glared at the jedi as he gripped his lightsabers tightly, but he didn't activate them. Instead, his instinct returning to him,, he cursed himself even more upon realization that he, so foolishly unwisely, allowed his selfish desire, not to kill, but to kidnap and torture, get in the way of his proper desire for survival. He cursed himself his apparent humilation and for forgetting one of the greatest weapon of the sith; patience. They were both right, including the jedi as much as the sith hated to admit. Cocytus glanced at Ravenous before glaring at Radian with hatefilled eyes. "Get off this planet, jedi." he spoke coldly and softly, "Get off this planet so we can find you... and grant you something far worse than you could possibly imagine than death."

With that Cocytus, his lightsabers to his belt, turned and stormed off to join Ravenous. Filth. All of them diseased ridden filth. he thought bitterly, making vile oaths against the Jedi and all servants of the Light as they walked.

How do they continuously survive while we keep perishing? he continued to think coldly and bitterly as they got closer to the rendezvous point, Everything they stand for holds them back. Their very diseased ridden philosophy. Peace, serenity, harmony! They do nothing but create stagnation in the galaxy and halt progress in all forms.

Radian offered a small smirk when the Sith came to the correct conclusion, though he said nothing. Instead he simply returned his lightsaber to his belt, took one last glance at the chaos of the battle that they were leaving, and turned to leave.

This was a new beginning, the winter before spring.

The Jedi's time would come again, and until then his only duty was survival.
With that he began a brisk jog in an attempt to catch the shuttle before it left.

Ravenous rolled his eyes at the two before him and continued to follow them. There was no time for anything, except escaping. The Wookiee lumbered into a jog behind the Jedi, keeping pace, he knew Cocytus would do the same.

Darth Cocytus shook his head in disgust and humilation, as he followed Ravenous at a jog, trying to keep up. He still hated the idea of allowing Radian to live and not be tortured. However, Cocytus vowed that the time will come eventually when there will be no more jedi and no more of the dies, leaving no one to plague the galaxy with jedi philosophy anymore. He just had to remember patience.

Upon arrival at the shuttle, Cocytus immediately boarded along with the wookiee and glared at the world he's leaving as well as the abomination that was destroying it. Great. the kaminoan thought bitterly, nursing his cold hatred for Typhojem, Radian, this Mortis, and for himself like a mother nursing an infant, Now let's get off this planet and never come back. This is one world I have little to no intention on returning to any time soon.

TAG: WookieeRage, ConservativeJedi321, Lady Belligerent and Everyone Else.