Star Wars CLOSED Aftermath and Beginnings

OOC: Combo with @Sinrebirth

IC Uzuriel
The three, above the Twilight Graveyard

The third figure slowly walked up toward the two staying concealed from those below. It stayed out of sight of those below as well, it was not yet time to confront his oldest frenemy. It was a shorter figure in a robe that seemed to swirl with shades of grey. The hood was up but the tip of a Defel snout poked from the shadows of it. A coughing snort came from it’s muzzle as it heard Caedus and Darkness speak.

”You two, whenever I wonder why you are trying to hide your presence from the rest of me, you’re always cozied up to this Sith. You must know he’s not my type.” The words that came from the snout seemed not to have passed the vocal chords or snout itself, but just floated directly into the other two’s ears as it replied to Darkness.

The head in the cowl turned toward Caedus, ”And why would I not be here, here and now?” it asked in a calm, even, but now androgynous tone. It didn’t bother to look down at the scene below as it continued, ”I see we are still short several. And I can also see chaos in the future of this reunion, with who the one at the center of it is claiming to be.” It’s voice was tonally flat but there were minute traces of what seemed like humor in it’s statement.

Caedus snorted. "Balance, and Darkness... where is Light? And Chaos?"

He gestured vaguely to the others in the distance. "Your origin is walking around without you, I see. With the Protectors, at that."

Darkness turned, a writhing mass of shadow, formless. We're disappointed in you. You were supposed to stop this from happening.

Uzuriel chuckled at Caedus, ”You have miscounted child, Balance is not Order alone. All my parts are out there, and soon to be here. And who says that they are not all here, or nearly here, already.” His short arm raised, gesturing down at the tableau below them, ”That is not my origin, he is merely a small portion of the being who was my first vessel when I walked this cosmos in a corporeal form.”

His eyes, the grey of them swirling as the greys of his cloak were doing, turned toward Darkness. As they did his form shifted, growing, taking on the shape of a taller, lean man with a patrician’s gaze. The eyes took on a new tone, as though the greys were infinitely deep ”I am not, however, solely the Balance of this Timeline, little piece of me. I mourn his failure, but the Balance endures. You and your ‘siblings’ however will die as independent beings when the timeline ends, returned to the infinite me. And your own attempts to influence this end will be tallied.”

The Darkness seemed to surge, writhing. We know that all of this was to defeat me. To prevent me from propagating. I will reach the next timeline. The death of my Chosen will not stop me.

Caedus simply glanced back and then to Balance... or whatever he called himself. “So we’re still not trusting Zas’tel? According to all sources, he did what he was supposed to...”

Uzuriel gazed upon Darkness, almost pity in it’s face. ”My little Darkness, when you chose to tie yourself to ones such as this one or even the Master of Masters you brought into yourself the seeds of your own destruction.” It shook the head it wore, ”Reaching the next timeline? You are already there, anywhere, anywhen, I am, so are you. Posturing just enhances the odor of fear you carry.”

It glanced at Caedus, ”Which Zestus? The one portion of the six that were a part of that being when he died, that remained faithful to the Master of Masters plan, or the remaining five that served me over the eons? Play the long game, but ensure you choose the side that will survive.” Once again a sense of pity or sadness radiated from it’s form, ”So much potential but you chose poorly.”

Darkness almost pouted. The Master of Masters is such a bother. It’s almost as if there is this endless desire for him to one-up me. Our friendship is very much stretched at this point.

Caedus shrugged, his eyes briefly turning white. “I’m just here to make sure I get what I was promised.” He eyed Uzuriel. “What are you doing here, then?”

Uzuriel gazed at the powerful Sith, a sad look on it’s face, almost a pitying one, ”Whether it was the Master of Masters or that one that says he’s Zas’tel down there, if either promised you something the chances of you ever receiving what was promised is slim to none. And if you do it will be a genie’s promise, exactly to the letter of the promise but not the spirit and in such a way as to destroy you sooner rather than later.” It ignored the question as to why it was here, it felt it had no reason to reply to the query.

It gazed down at the tableau once more, before turning to the Darkness, a sardonic smile on it’s face, ”Yes he is, why do you think I let you be the one to deal with him all these eons rather than do so myself? Not that he and I haven’t had several long chats over that time, often causing the relationship you two have more strain, but overall he was your responsibility.”

The Darkness huffed again. Mortals should not interfere in the elements nor the Gods. But here we are.

“Says the entity which freed me from that prison reality and sent me after the Box...” Caedus snorted. “Which kept me off the board while a Twilight War occurred...”

The End of Time was foreseen… Darkness sighed. Not that it matters. His gaze swung to the Balance. The Master said this was the Waypoint. That he would use Zas’tel and his Eye to traverse the length of time... what do you know of the Waypoint?

Uzuriel nodded at Darkness’s words, ”When mortals, even ones that somehow last for millennia, try to dam time and the Force to follow one path sometimes those higher beings must take a stand.” he reminded the other.

A chuckle sounded, ”You do not see, Darkness of this timeline? He seeks to abandon this ending timeline, leave the you of this line behind. He seeks to jump to an uncorrupted line and begin again. His goal is not just the end of this timeline but the end of them all, the death of the Force, the end of all Gods or Concepts. So therefore, he needs that weakpoint in the fabric of the multiverse to ‘travel’.”

We know, Darkness said. He told us. A writhing. He travelled to a reality just to end it. Maddening logic. He’s smarter than we thought.

Caedus sighed. “Most of the Gods are already dead - surely you’re just fighting over scraps now?”

”I still assist those that fight the end but my duties are to reality. And I return to the multiverse me once this one ends. So being here for events such as this are little but important ones vital to all the multiverse. And watching as he is stripped of much of what he is when he attempts to jump, I must admit, is satisfying.” It stated calmly. ”He is smart, smart enough to know that I will not allow every plan of his to come to fruition.”

What plan have you stopped? Darkness snorted. We are going to make it to the next reality anyway. It makes no difference to us. We exist everywhere, and nowhere.

Caedus was silent. “Are we finished? Are we going after the Box now? It’s supposed to contain the Holocron of Prophecy...?”

Which is useless if this is the End of Time…

Uzuriel smiled, almost a serene smile, ”Plan after plan. Do you really think this end came when he originally planned?”

It gazed down to the hollow, where the Box sat, ”Who said that the Holocron is in there? And if it is, who says it is only valid for this reality? Most follow similar patterns, or close enough that any plan foiled here can be attempted with what was used to foil it taken into account.”

Turning it’s gaze to Darkness, ”Little piece of me, how do you think he came by it in this reality in the first place? Do you honestly believe that he created it from travelling the full timeline of this reality first, or did he bring it from the last?”

Darkness growled at being described as a piece of Balance. We are far older than you, we do not need to be lumped with you.

Caedus gestured to Zas’tel. “He’s the one who told us, actually, as Arb... before we knew he was a Protector. He told us that we should hunt down the Box.”

Hiding his connection to it, Darkness hissed. He inclined his head to peer at Balance. From the first - the one he Changed on the first Nouane.

Uzuriel laughed, a clear chime, at Darkness, ”You are older than this physical form I wear, yes, but you are of me. From the beginning of time you, Light, Order, and Chaos have been my four parts. But I do know how you chafe at that.”

It looked at Caedus with a twisted smile, ”Of all the parts of the original Zes’tus that one alone remained completely faithful to the Master of Masters, even sought to emulate him over the eons. So not a single word from his mouth is ever to be fully trusted. For all we know, he has entombed the other parts of Zes’tus inside, that or some last ‘toy’ to ensure what he believes is victory.”

Caedus shook his head. “If he’s loyal he won’t be meddling with the Box. Whatever the Master truly put in there... it’s a problem.”

But this is a trap, clearly. The Protectors are descended from the original Chosen of the Ones. We should avoid this battle… Darkness began to fade away.

As Darkness began to fade, Uzuriel turned to Caedus, ”Joining him or sticking around to see how it plays out? I, for one, am going to observe, at least, what those others are up to. Besides, being under that sourpuss’s thumb for a while may do you some good.” it said, a tinge of humor in it’s tone, as it hooked a finger at the disappearing Darkness.

Caedus smirked that sardonic Solo grin. “Well, I purposely didn’t hide myself in the Force... so they know we’re here.” He waved a hand and an illusion was erected, causing him to vanish, and to submerge into the Force. He disappeared from sight and sense and was gone.

Uzuriel chuckled, shaking it’s head. It stayed out of sight for the moment, ”Mortals, of course they knew you were there. I’m everywhere so a little tougher to pin down when I take corporeal form, even now. Still, no sense making them sense me more.” it said as the shape wavered and drifted into a dissipating cloud of ash that became one with the landscape even as the being behind it waited and observed the gathering. Waiting for the one whose presence would truly require it to join the others.

TAGS: @Sinrebirth, @Jerjerrod-Lennox, @HanSolo29, @Mitth_Fisto, @QueenSabe7

 

IC: Zas'tel
Dwartii, Twilight Graveyard

He looked at the statues of Sistros and Braata one more time, and then back to Vydra and Dunkeel.

"Well, here goes," he said, drawing his lightsaber and igniting it with a crimson crackle.

He went to point it at the box, when there was a colossal shake of thunder. He stumbled, and looked up, eyes wide.

All of a sudden, the sky was dark, dark, dark.

They were here.

This was the End of Time.

And He allowed his siblings to play sometimes too.

There was an immense cube of flesh; Ooru.

There was a writhing mass of black ichor, larger than some moons; Mnngal-Mnngal.

There was a laughing woman, immense, for she had taken control of a giant from Boz Pity; Abeloth.

Larger than them all, with a face as round as a planet - and indeed, his skull had once been reshaped into the world of Pesegam - more recently known as Korriban, or indeed Moraband - by the servants of the Celestials. His chin was adorned with tentacles; his wings spanned half a star-system; his eyes burned with malice that turn starships into ash.

He was Typhojem.

No longer was he an inky shadow of no shape or form, no.

He was fully reborn, engorged on the fear of trillions.

They loomed over the three of them and their two statue friends.

TAG: @Jerjerrod-Lennox, @darthbernael, @Mitth_Fisto, @HanSolo29, @QueenSabe7

 

IC Uzuriel
Dwartii, Twilight Graveyard

No sooner had the other two disappeared than events began to pick up. Uzuriel kept its position for a few moments as it all began, then sighed as it couldn’t wait any longer for the others. Arb, calling himself Zas’tel, pointed a red saber at the Box. That was yet another indicator that the Zas’tel he claimed to be wasn’t the ‘true’ Zaas’tel; that one it had worked with for eons and red would not suit him at all.

And then the ‘heavens’ opened up. Old Ones, twisted descendents of who he was, began to appear. There he saw the cube of Ooru, in another area was the oozing, dripping form of Mnngal-Mnngal, in yet another area was the writhing, shifting but beautiful in her own way form of Abeloth, and finally towering above all was the final, hideous form of Typhojem.

Uzuriel sighed, it truly was the End of the World for this reality. It had tried to keep this event from happening for as many eons as possible but, even given what it was, there were wide and varied forces that opposed it to cause this to happen. Even it has its limits and reality, this one at least, had to end someday. It looked down at the tableau below, it was time to join them even if they didn’t all know who it was.

Standing fully, now appearing as an ancient Anzati inside the cloak, it made it’s way down the hill. The others were in varying states of reaction to either the Box or the Gods. A small smile crossed its face when it heard the Chistori, Dunkeel he recalled, speak of Balance. It was as though the Protector was praying to it directly.

The young looking librarian type caused the eyebrow of its form to rise, when he took a combat stance, preparing to defend or fight against the Gods themselves. Vydra had come far since the event that allowed it to enter the physical plane.

Finally it turned it’s gaze to the last standing there ‘Zas’tel’. A form of a smile, not a true one as it did not reach it’s eyes, formed on the face. ”Hello again, Arb. I see you invited your friends.” The body’s arm swung, indicating the Gods, not the Protectors. ”And have been attempting to pull the wool over the eyes of these good people, once again. How many times has that been over the last 37 eons? And now the End you desired has come.”

It gazed up at the Gods, ”Children of my energy, you have fed well indeed, even though it was not my desire that you do so. But you have followed your sibling’s lead, let Arb guide you into your gluttonous ways. Pity.” it spoke, a voice that if it had not modulated for the Chistori and Human would have scrambled their minds.

Turning it’s back on the monstrosities, it faced the Protectors. ”You two may sense the essence of Zas’tel in me, not the being there that claims to be him, but yes, it was he that allowed me to come to the physical plane. Dunkeel, you asked for Balance but I doubt you expected it to stroll up to you on two legs. Vydra, you do your position proud, standing against Darkness, not knowing if you will survive. Two of the five, three if you count the parts of Zas’tel that are in me and in Arb there. So all that is left is for Joren and Vale to join us.”

TAGS: @Sinrebirth, @Jerjerrod-Lennox, @HanSolo29, @Mitth_Fisto, @QueenSabe7

 

IC: The Old Ones
Malevolence

The End was here.

Now and forever.

We are not servants of Masters or Protectors or Demiurges.

The words came in many voices, and they resonated within even the statues.

Arb held his ears, and winced.

We are Gods.

An energy beam ripped into Uzuriel with the force of a superlaser, pinioning him, lifting him up into the sky.

Their eyes all turned to the brutally skewered entity as Typhojem raised the mote up, finger pointed.

As they did, a Tho Yor rushed in from orbit, skirting across the ground -

Dunkeel had called it, and it was here for him, albeit belatedly, but, well, it had been waiting thirty-thousand years for him, one could be forgiven for taking minutes to reach them.

Tentacles ensnared one limb of Uzuriel; tugged him towards Abeloth.

Plant-like tendrils wrapped around the other, tugged him towards Ooru.

Only Mnngal-Mnngal regarded Dunkeel, and in his moment of attention, an enmity was formed between the Chistori and him that resonated from Soliloquy onwards.

That left Vydra, wielding the blue blade of the Skywalkers... and Arb, igniting the crimson blade of Palpatine.

"We were supposed to survive, and head into the next reality," Arb said, almost sadly.

A world I cannot imagine, is what the Master of Masters had called it.

As he did, a wave of creatures emerged from Mnngal-Mnngal - a stream of Stenax, living on the creature, now so large as to maintain it's own environ and gravity, their existence like tics and gnats upon the skin of another.



They ignited crimson blades -

There had to be a dozen of them, already, crossing the atmosphere bridge to Dwartii -

Arb, for his part, removed the green blade of Jacen Solo and placed it on the statue of Sistros; it was absorbed; as was the purple blade of Anakin Solo, into the statue of Braata. He looked up again, face set in grim acceptance.

TAG: @darthbernael, @Jerjerrod-Lennox, @Mitth_Fisto, @HanSolo29, @QueenSabe7

 

IC Uzuriel
Held by the 'great grandkids'

Uzuriel sighed, holding in the pain that was caused to the physical shell he wore, as Typhojem drew him up closer to the ’Gods’ they called themselves. Another sigh escaped him as he felt the slippery, hatred filled essence of the tentacles of Abeloth ensnare his arm and attempt to pull him toward her. And then his head lolled the opposite direction when he felt tendrils begin to tug at him, as though Ooru and Abeloth desired to play tug of war with his body.

He let his body morph and stretch as the ‘Gods’ pulled at him more and more. There was a breaking point, of course, but it would be some time before he reached it. Looking up at Typhojem, his swirling grey eyes looked into the giant ones of his ‘descendent’.

His voice was flat, emotionless, as he spoke to the twisted God, his voice taking on the same depth of intonation as theirs once more, ”Where in what I said did I say you were a servant? But you have deluded yourself if you do not remember what I am, where I come from, and what it means to your own power should you lash out…” he responded.

Below, he could sense what was unfolding but unless Arb decided that he needed to take part on both stages, there was little he would do to aid the ones whose actions had allowed this plan to be brought forth in such a manner. They had their own fight, but he doubted any but Arb knew that there were more than the two still missing that had yet to make their appearance.

But, Uzuriel trusted that those others would assist the Protectors to defend and survive, whether until they crossed realities or died once they appeared. So his focus returned to the surviving ‘Gods’. His eyes sparkled as he turned his head toward Abeloth, ”You are going to allow your larger, monstrous, brother to partake of me without you receiving your fair share, or more if you can steal it?” He asked, as though offering her the choicest ‘cuts’.

His head turned back toward Ooru, ”They simply desire my essence, my destruction to forget their origins. But you, you I can see desire the knowledge I hold. Which will be lost if you allow your brother to take all from me.” His voice laden with hidden knowledge and power that Ooru could wield against his siblings once they were all that was left.

Looking back up at the giant, who seemed to have decided bigger was better, not that power cared what size one was, ”Decisions, decisions, decisions, how will you, or any of you, choose? The End comes, for us all, whether you desire to admit it or not.”

TAGS: @Sinrebirth, @Jerjerrod-Lennox, @HanSolo29, @Mitth_Fisto, @QueenSabe7

 

IC: Unknown
Inside the Sistros Statue

Darkness.

It had permeated his senses to become his entire existence.

At this point, it was difficult to discern whether it had always been there or if it had pervaded this space in the interim while he slept. There was no other explanation for the gap in his memory. An unconscious mind was a volatile thing; always changing, always moving. The effect became even more profound if dreams and nightmares were prevalent.

Nightmares.

He remembered those.

Mechanical monsters bred in the depths of an ecumenopolis, fire and brimstone raining down from above; the total eradication of the populace and his own isolation from those he loved; his father rising above the ashes to stand on the pinnacle of darkness; a severed staff and an arched gateway which served as his only means of escape.

And then nothingness.

The inherent darkness prevailed.

And yet, it appeared to dissolve and emerge as something less impenetrable the longer he stared into the void. He even became aware of his own erratic breathing, every inhale and exhale echoing in his ears like a dull roar. He noted that it was the same acoustic scattering that occurred when confined to an enclosed space; it amplified the sound and made it more perceptible.

He was alive, yes, but was he in...a box? Or a prison of some sort?

Curiosity got the better of him as he reached out—yes, he could feel his arms and legs—and probed the shadows that danced before his eyes. He was only able to extend his arm halfway before his fingers touched something solid. It was cold and smooth, the same consistency as rock or metal.

Was this a tomb? Had they buried him alive?!

Panic clenched his heart and he heard himself cry out, his voice a cracked whisper as if he hadn’t exercised his vocal cords in quite some time. However, he did not allow that to deter his efforts to break free. He shouted again, and this time, he added to the cacophony by punching and kicking the barrier that detained him.

That’s when he realized that what he had recently experienced hadn’t been a mere nightmare. It was real; he had lived it.

All of it.

He hesitated a moment as that thought flooded his awareness with a heightened sense of reality. It bolstered his determination, and he soon resumed his desperate struggle anew. “You LIED to me!” he roared hoarsely to whoever was listening. “You never intended to allow me to escape, did you?!”

But as he curled his hand into a fist to launch another blow, a strange cylindrical object materialized out of thin air and pressed into his palm.

The unusual nature of this latest development startled him into silence.

What…happened?

Inhaling deeply, he gathered his wits about him and clenched his fingers around the item to determine its purpose. It was a long tubelike device with a metallic alloy surface, polished and refined except for several nodes and switches that adorned its simple design. He did not need to understand the complexities of the Jedi or the Force to know what he held in his hands.

A lightsaber.

His salvation.

He did not waver as he angled the hilt toward the confines of his prison and thumbed the activation switch, ushering the emerald blade to brilliant life.

TAG: @Sinrebirth; @Mitth_Fisto; @darthbernael; @QueenSabe7; @Jerjerrod-Lennox

 

IC: Typhojem
End of Time

The little Balance mocked them.

THEM.

Who was the Dark beyond Dark beyond Dark.

They were beyond such things.

He was Typhojem.

He was Tyth.

He was Yammka.

He was the Father of Shadows.

He had consumed more foes than the Balance had been corporeal.

A mere thirty-five thousand year old deity was nothing to him, a hundred thousand years strong.

He decided enough was enough.

With a flick of his oversized hand, Uzuriel was undone.

The Old Ones gloated, adding their own whip like strikes, their own rents in his existence, their own shards of immeasurable pain -

Heart, the Tho Yor that belonged to Dunkeel, swept down and opened it's ramp to save both him and Vydra and scoop up the box.

Arb was focused upon the attacking swarm, stepping before Vydra and producing two blasters from his long sleeves.

They opened fire, raining bolts into the diving attackers, who were moving at incredible speeds, amplified by their use of the Force, their prowess augmented by their Old One lords. Some paused to parry, and Arb narrowed his eye. The Master's blade dangled from his belt as he tracked fire to slow down the rest.

That left Heart to scoop up whom Dunkeel decided.

It sensed his uncertainty, and enquired, mind-to-mind, about the statues of Sistros and Braata, let along Arb, who Heart recognised as Zas'tel.


Then the green blade cut through the skin of the Sistros statue, in the middle of all this.

In short order, the small Tho Yor would be upon them, and they would have to leap to be caught by the ship -

And in a handful of moments after, the Old Ones would remember they had other prey here -

TAG: @Mitth_Fisto (first), @Jerjerrod-Lennox (second), @darthbernael (third), @HanSolo29 (last)

 

IC Uzuriel
Undone...of sorts

Uzuriel hung in the sky, pinned by the ‘Gods’. It was calm, unsurprised by their actions. It, of all those present, knew what was to come and had accepted it. It had even warned the ‘children’ what would occur when they did what they threatened.

And then Typhojem released it from it’s physical form. Of course the massive God probably thought of that moment in a different capacity but he was limited, after all. As Uzuriel disappeared a wave of energy, unseen, unfelt, washed out from his epicenter. It rolled over the Gods, across the planet, across the galaxy and all of creation shuddered as though a bell struck once.

The pain, the agony that the Gods made the body endure was that alone, the pain of the body, the essence, the spirit was beyond them. It allowed the pain to wash through it, over it, let the body shriek out it’s pain so they would be satisfied, even as it reached out beyond itself, beyond this reality. It was but one of countless numbers of itself and what it touched was the true source, the one beyond, it that watched over all and in that moment it departed this reality even as it’s true source let a message for those left behind.

A whisper rolled back, into the minds of the Gods, unheard by the others, save perhaps Arb. ”Order has died, Light has died, yet so has Chaos, as has Darkness. The Force, the Balance, the driving element of this timeline has returned to the source. I remove your power, little godlings.” the voice of Uzuriel was unmistakable but this was the voice of all Uzuriel’s, every one of them across the multiverse, the true, undending source of them.

A second whisper was sent to Arb, the Protectors as well, ”Find your new timeline, this one is going to collapse once I leave.” It didn’t trust Arb, knew the being would attempt this time and again, but the multiverse would endure. And there were surprises for them all to come.

TAGS: @Sinrebirth, @Jerjerrod-Lennox, @HanSolo29, @Mitth_Fisto, @QueenSabe7

 

IC: The Old Ones
The End

The cosmos began to crumble.

Light was dead.

Balance was too.

The Darkness was now Chaos was now Darkness.

It was not directed or guided, merely existing.

The Tho Yor rushed away with Vydra and Dunkeel aboard, the Box and the Master's Forcesaber in their possession, as well as the blade of Anakin Skywalker.

Arb - Zas'tel - turned and face his fate.

And dissolved into it.

He did, however, grin.

What was the End of Time, you ask?

It was when all Light was extinguished and the Dark lost all sense of direction and control.

A Dark Age that went beyond civilization's collapse.

It had to involve the very component elements of the Force dying.

The original Nouane, now Dwartii, it began the center of a wound in the Force that stripped all life from any it touch.

Sound.

Colour.

The Void was the End.

The worst and most powerful of the Sith had mastered how to generate these voids by inflicting terrible damage upon the Force. The technique of Force Drain, with the Though Bomb, creating incredible surges of 'free energy' for a Sith to absorb and make himself immortal, or just to kill with. Vitiate, Revan, Nihilus, Traya, Bane - they mastered these techniques and did monstrous things with them, drawing upon the most ancient teachings of the Trayus Academy on Malachor V.

As the galaxy began to vanish into the immensity, the two remaining statues of Sistros and Braata vanished and reappeared aboard the Tho Yor with the other two.

The original Protectors had an unbreakable bond, and it meant they could now no longer be separated, not now the Awakening had commenced.

The Holocron of Prophecy had foretold that reality would end following the Twilight Wars...

... it just hadn't detailed that it was this Twilight Wars that did it, the war between the New Sith Order and released Old Ones.

The four of them received jump coordinates, ones stored deep in the ancient Tho Yor's memory.

The Void reached for them -

And they jumped.

TAG: @Jerjerrod-Lennox, @Mitth_Fisto, @QueenSabe7, @HanSolo29 (nominally the original cast sans @darthbernael at this point)

 

IC: Unknown
Inside the Sistros Statue

The alloy that comprised the walls of his prison was surprisingly resistant. Even with a lightsaber’s blade, it took great effort and the utmost precision to carefully carve away at the outer shell. The tight confines of the box also limited his mobility, which only contributed to his woes; it was difficult to find the proper leverage to maneuver the weapon. Nevertheless, he persevered through these challenges, his desperation to escape overriding the natural thought processes that told him to surrender to his fate.

In the end, his tenacity paid off.

The wall before his face began to glow red with superheated stone, a soft sizzling sound underlining the chemical change that was occurring on a molecular level. It compelled him to push even harder, the force of his exertion causing whole portions of the scalding material to fall away in sizable chunks.

This continued until the thick husk broke away completely and natural light began to filter in.

After being sheltered in the darkness for so long, he instinctively winced at the sudden luminescence that greeted him. The brightness pierced his eyes and induced physical pain, though he did not allow that to hinder his progress. He carried on and embraced the pain; it meant that he was finally free.

That thought elicited a soft groan from his lips as the support frame that held his body upright collapsed, and he tumbled forward.

The impact of his body upon the deckplates was more strenuous than he had anticipated. His weakened condition had dulled his reflexes and prevented him from fully extending his arms and legs to break his fall. As a result, he simply crumpled to the floor in an unceremonious heap.

At least you managed to hold onto the lightsaber on the way down, he thought to himself, clenching the now extinguished blade in his right fist. You retained some of your dignity.

However, any solace this afforded him quickly vanished once his eyes fully adjusted to the overhead lighting, and he was able to fully survey his surroundings. He noted that he was on a ship of some kind, except the interior walls exhibited a strange texture. They were bulbous and rough with a veined pattern suffused throughout. If he squinted hard enough, he thought he might have even seen them pulsing, almost as if they were…alive?

He shuddered at that notion, his mind immediately conjuring images of a Yuuzhan Vong fleet and the organic monstrosities they utilized to torture and conquer. Had he slipped back through the time portal during the chaos on Coruscant? Had he stumbled upon an awaiting Vong patrol?

Was he a prisoner?

The fact that Trayus, Four-Dee, and his ailing grandmother were notably absent seemed to corroborate that idea. That brought a scowl to his features, and he silently cursed that godsdamned Black-Coat for betraying him…

And then he noticed the two figures standing nearby.

One was distinctly reptilian and the other a human male dressed in a garish tunic.

Not Yuuzhan Vong, he breathed with an audible sigh.

Rising up on his knees, he slowly spread his hands to show that there was no ill-intent. He then inclined his chin to finally reveal his face:



"This is, uh—this is an awkward situation," the young man muttered under his breath. "I just want to know what’s going on."

TAG: @Mitth_Fisto; @darthbernael; @Jerjerrod-Lennox; @Sinrebirth

 

IC: Heart
Jumping the New World

They leapt beyond, and out, protected by the technology of the Tho Yor.

Heart lamented as they emerged into a pocket of utter, complete, white, as far as sensors and senses could see.

It allowed the occupants to see that they'd pushed through the tear, and they were outside reality.

Outside life.

Were they inside the Force?

The vessels mind seemed to be falling apart.

There was one more statue left, but it acquired a cut across it's throat - decapitated.

For a moment, it hung there, and then slid off and to the floor.

For the briefest second there was a woman standing there, breathing heavily, enraged, and then she vanished with her yellow blade.

There was a single Holocron of Prophecy within the statue of Braata.

A Black Holocron.

TAG: @HanSolo29, @Mitth_Fisto, @Jerjerrod-Lennox

Yes, that was Rey from Episode X and her moment on Mortis. @QueenSabe7.

 

IC: Arek Graul
Aboard the Tho Yor, Oblivion

The names and the faces were not familiar to him, nor were the fantastical tales they told. Despite the wealth of information recently available to him through Four-Dee’s research, Arek could not recall anything that pertained to the Sages of Dwartii. He had never heard of them before, and part of him remained skeptical about whether they were truly real. Perhaps this Vydra and his reptilian sidekick—was it...Dunkeel?—were slightly unhinged. Fanatical crackpots, maybe? It wasn’t uncommon to find such folk cruising the deep spacelanes on some idealistic crusade.

And yet, the brash human had mentioned a statue and being trapped…inside?

The young man furrowed his brow and fell back on his haunches, his eyes narrowing as he craned his neck to regard his former prison.

A statue.

Is that what it was?

He had damaged the stone edifice when he had emerged, which made it difficult to discern the more intricate details, such as facial features and complicated design elements, but the basic structure still remained intact. From his perspective—especially if he canted his head a certain way—he could certainly see how the towering pillar resembled a statue of some kind. Maybe there was some truth to Vydra’s words, after all.

But if that was the case, had he been trapped for centuries as well?

Arek swallowed the lump in his throat and pushed that thought from his mind, not wanting to dwell on negative outcomes. He still retained hope that he could find Four-Dee and his grandmother and return to a reality that had not suffered through the End of Time.

Nonetheless, in order to accomplish that, he knew that he had to determine where he was first. That’s where Vydra and Dunkeel came into play. Regardless of their many eccentricities, they were likely the only ones who could provide meaningful answers to assist him on his path.

"You can call me Arek," he finally revealed with a weak smile, reaching across to carefully conceal the lightsaber hilt within the folds of his jacket. It was a goodwill gesture to show that he had no ill intentions. "Um, Arek Graul, actually...but it’s not important. I don’t have any fancy titles or anything like that."

He shifted awkwardly at his poor attempt at humor before angling his chin to regard Dunkeel. "And I’m sorry, sir—uh, Master Sage, but I don’t know anyone named Joren," he muttered in a somber tone, his blue eyes shining with a natural curiosity. "If I’m honest, I don’t believe I even belong in this place...or this time, really. I was swept up in some gateway—"

Before he could elaborate on his sordid tale, the jostling of the ship caused a large object, which had previously gone unnoticed, to slide from its berth and topple to the decking with a loud crash.

Arek bounded to his feet, but then frowned when he discovered that it was yet another statue. This one had fractured upon impact, and for a fleeting moment, he could’ve sworn that he saw a woman standing in the empty husk. A feral snarl marred her delicate features as she brandished a yellow lightsaber in her grip, seemingly pining for a fight.

But before she could engage, the specter vanished without a trace, leaving behind an ancient artifact that Arek easily recognized from his travels across space and time.

A Holocron.

Raising his brow, he glanced toward the others for guidance—or perhaps, he merely wanted to gauge their reactions. He already knew that this did not bode well. The Force rippled with unease, eliciting a chill that ran down the length of his spine. Even with his nascent abilities, he acknowledged it as a warning.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Arek mumbled under his breath, his fist clenching at his side with eager anticipation. "Did anyone else see that wraith? I don’t think this thing is safe. There’s a lot of dark energy here."

TAG: @Sinrebirth; @Mitth_Fisto; @Jerjerrod-Lennox; @darthbernael

 

IC: Darkness
End of Time; After

They were right.

It was dangerous.

As dangerous of anything they'd ever encountered.

It was Darkness.

It swirled around Dunkeel, a black cyclone of power that ensnared him and drew him into it.

In a short instant, he vanished into it.

He was gone, leaving Arek and Vydra together.

Alone, aboard the Tho Yor named Heart.

The ship writhed, clearly unbalanced by the events they'd unleashed.

It expelled them.

Into the White.

---
Inside the Black Holocron

The darkness parted to reveal a devastated landscape; a Graveyard of a world.

In the infinite sand drifts, there poked out pieces of masonry, a collection of references that points to dozens of different species.

Human, Twi'lek, Sith, Wookiee, Togruta, Chistori, Defel, Rodian, Devaronian, Hoojib, Cathar -

Too many to count.

Dunkeel would know with absolute certainty that this was Nouane.

Their Nouane.

The debris seemed to come together in a singular point, and open space where the debris formed four sets of detritus, as if armies had met and warred and destroyed the place.

They hadn't, but the symbolism was heavy; these were the four corners of the City, the compass points that had defined their daily lifes.

The center was where they had fought Abeloth.

The darkness that had pulled back to the edges of the moment drew inward, convalescing in front of him.

A demon appeared, blackened, and yet muscular, fiery and yet calm.

In it's oversized hands were a pair similarly large lightsaber hilts.

One, an approximation of the blade that Anakin Skywalker had weilded.

The other, an approximation of the blade that Darth Vader had used.

They ignited; sky blue and angry red.

With a word, the Darkness threw himself at Dunkeel.

TAG: @Mitth-Fisto (combo)
---
IC: Zas'tel
Somewhen, let's say... 99 ABY, on Nubia

There was a child born to a father.

His name was Norin.

There was a son born to him.

His name was Aryan.

These facts would filter through the mind of Arek; he would recognise his grandfather.

He was outside this moment; he did not exist in it.

Besides him stood a Black Coat.

"So this his birth." The voice was Arb's, a fairly amused chuckle.

Of course it was his.

"And what's that over there?"

Among the toys prepared for the young child, a silent but clearly red pyramid, looking as indifferent as the other shapes in the set, nuzzled in a box that included fluffy creatures, gizmos and even some wooden creations, evoking a much simpler time.

"Ho, ho, that's where it got to."

TAG: @HanSolo29 (combo)
---
IC: White Coat
Somewhere.... let's say, the Light

There was only white for Vydra.

Only ever white.

His descendant, the manner in which he had made it to this time and place, was evident.

Pascale Rouser.

Besides him stood a White Coat.

"So, you made," she said, softly.

With a slight shake of head.

"The End of Time."

TAG: @Jerjerrod-Lennox (combo)