Star Wars CLOSED Star Wars: Episode VI: Twilight of the Force III: A Son’s Destiny

IC: The Quiet Light - Secret Combo 3 with @Shadowsun and @Sinrebirth
Nowhere, no-when

Bernael would reach Azathoth as he ostensibly was destroyed. But in-fact, undoubtedly very against his will, he was yanked via a portal to Mortis.

Something similar had happened to Ahsoka Tano when she was saved by Ezra Bridger from her own Darth Vader on Mustafar. But instead Bernael had, at the behest of the Father of Balance, saved a shadow, not a light.

They clattered to the ground in front of the Citadel, a colossal set of steps before them. Drifting down them was Anakin, two goblets within his hands. They steamed, and he looked like he was in a hurry.

He was.

Azathoth was a bloody, broken, battered mess, barely hanging onto his life, having already sought death -

And Bernael, who was previously healthy, was suddenly tainted by the return of the Quiet Light, a fractured, shattered, devastated self, nothing like it had been within Renn, and it was akin to a hundred knife strikes piercing him through and through -

The Quiet Darkness within him had suffered too; wounds of love, of loss, but they had healed - until the Quiet Light ripped those psychic wounds right open, and they were born as a thousand leaking wounds upon his skin -

The Father dropped to his knees in-front if them -

“Drink, quickly, before you die -“

He held the cup to Bernael more absently than he did with Azathoth, because he expected resistance from the man who had accepted death -

“If you no longer wish to be a pawn in this story! Drink, and live long enough for me to show you how!”

Azathoth's vision was cloudy, his mind fractured with pain. How? How was this even possible?

He was dead... was this an afterlife...?

And what were these memories? These future memories? His eyes fluttered as he accepted the drink, his body acting more on its own than anything else. Took quick, deep sips of the fluid. His body required a constant flow of energy, not that he knew it and he felt a part of him was missing. As if someone had removed a large needle implanted in the back of his head.

But he also felt awake... awake for the very first time in his life. His vision began to clear as the loose incongruent set of memories began to settle in his mind. They were not his however, they did not feel like his. The experiences of these memories did not form his identity... but they...

His eyes fluttered as he looked towards the Father.

"No!... how? How can you be here? Father! It should be impossible... impossible!" He stammered in fear as he tried to shuffle away from the man. His body was still weak. Within the last hour he had a shard of darkness rip out of him, the quiet light implanted and then taken out of him and then he had... what had happened exactly?

Bernael had completed the mission the Father had given him. He knew that much, felt that much. But it mattered not. He saw, through hazy vision, as the Father descended the steps of the Citadel, approaching him and…he groaned through the pain, and the candidate, he couldn’t let himself focus on who else he was.

Pain, agony, swam through him, he’d taken peace in the presence of the Darkness, they had come to terms. But suddenly…the Light had returned, was melding with the Darkness, the Balance reknitting inside him. And the agony of every decision that had been made, the chaos that had occurred, the pain, the loss, the destruction was run through his thoughts and nerves again and again. His talons cut grooves in his flesh, grooves that healed just enough to be dub deeper with the next rake of them over himself.

He barely heard the words spoken by the Father, barely saw the goblet casually held before him. It took several long moments for the words to register. One hand, black talons gleaming in the light around them, shakily reached up, the other following on it’s heels. Both clenched around the goblet, bringing it to his suddenly parched lips.

The liquid within ran through his senses, the painful rents in his sides healing as the singing in his nerves of the pain of Balance restoring faded. He took in a deep breath, drinking more and more, the memories returning to their resting places even as he heard the shout from the candidate beside him. It mattered not, the candidate would pass or fail on his own merits.

Slowly he came to his feet, his vision now clear. Sparing only a second’s glance at the man slowly shuffling away, his silver and black eyes, slowly becoming swirls of greys, turned to the Father. His voice came out, beginning as a croke but developing to its normal low almost toneless sound, ”The Font of Power, the Pool of Knowledge, or both?” he asked, hand lifting the goblet slightly.

“That depends on whether you want to live,” the Father said simply. “The two parts of the Quiet Balance have been separated for too long; they no longer fit, they merely scrape against each other. Had perhaps they remained in Renn and Bernael alone, but after the Quiet Light was driven from Finn, shredded by the Darkness named Vicrul, and then found its way into him,” he indicated the writhing madman, “it no longer does.“

“And after all,” Father said carefully. “Even the Quiet Darkness has been wounded; the man who killed your wife is here.”

He placed the cup in his hands, and went to hold Azathoth’s wrists to stop him. “Do not struggle. I am not your mad father. I am merely the Father of Balance; my son is Darth Zorn, and my grandson, Darth Vader.” He looked unhappy for a moment. “My wife was Padme Amidala, my daughter, Leia Skywalker. All are lost to me.”

He nodded. “But today I wrought a new family.” His words were soft. “Son.”

And then his eyes took in Bernael. “Father.”

Azathoth's eyes looked in confusion as he looked to the Father and then Bernael. He did settle as he realized the person the Father was not the person he thought he was. He had so many competing thoughts and questions, but the final words settled in Azathoth.

He shook his head.

"You want me to serve that man? Who I've been attempting to untether myself from for his utter foolishness? That is not going to happen," he spoke firmly, Bernael likely wanted to kill him. Azathoth clenched his hand looking down, the panic residing within him. He probably thinks I'm dead. I'm safe... he's busy right now I have time, I have time…

Bernael nodded to the Father, he didn’t need the being to tell him, he could feel the Balance trying to reform, sliding, grating, screeching as the shredded edges of both the Darkness and Light rubbed against each other rather than seamlessly merging. The reminder of who he had brought, even as he fought the nature that had caused that one to do as he did, made his eyes flare for a moment before he drew a deep breath, releasing the anger of that moment again.

His eyes were dragged over to Azathoth as that young being spoke. At what that one said, he snorted softly. His silver eyes shone and several responses to the rebuke came to mind. But, then, he glanced back over at Anakin. Shaking his head softly he sighed.

Turning more fully toward Azathoth the corner of his lips quirked in a smile for a moment, ”You knew a…version of me, just as I knew a version of you. You have never met the true me and you are thinking too small. He,” his hand gestured at Anakin, ”has offered the chance to no longer be a pawn in the game and you are still thinking as a pawn, even as you accept his offer to no longer be one. We both must make a choice in that and I know where I choose. Redeem and evolve or remain a pawn, Son.”

He turned back to Anakin, nodding in respect, the tendrils of Balance slowly weaving once more, ”I do not expect it to be simple, or easy, with whoever is the candidate for the Daughter. As it will not be with him,” he gestured at Azathoth now, ”If he does accept becoming the Son. But that is not what the role of Father is to be, to force the balance on either, but to balance their actions and keep them from destroying each other.”

A thought came to him and the corner of his lips twitched in a real but wry smile, ”Does that make Madelyn a more stable and less chaotic Mother?” he asked Anakin.

"I see your dismissal and patronizing demeanor of me has not changed Bernael, you smug bastard," spoke Azathoth, his eyes narrowed in scorn.

"I have always sought to change the game, to change the very fabric of the galaxy towards perfection, towards stability and peace. So people would not have to die in this petty, endless conflict... and you say I think too small"

His eyes focused. "But if I'm tethered to half a fool I cannot achieve that peace, that perfection now can I all knowing Bernael." he spoke sardonically. His eyes swiveling to the Father.

"And you with your great and epic power doing nothing with it, allowing endless countless lives to die as you what? Just watch from the sidelines, waiting to create a new useless family that does nothing,"

The Father watched them, but answered Bernael first. “Madelyn is not what she was. She’s lost her family, or, rather, will. It is fated. She will misuse the power, because of her attachments. So she will need to be managed.”

As he spoke, the warring energies within the Anzati were beginning to cut at his flesh and soul, the pain reaching higher and higher levels. Indeed, he’d be unable to use the Force to sustain himself soon, and his soul bank was being burned through; he didn’t have space for much more within his essence now the Balance was returned, constrained, straining - fighting a miniature apocalyptic war within him.

Azathoth however spoke clearly. Firmly. Even weakened, he had his principles. The Father approved, and interrupted. “You may not realise, but this galaxy has been constantly intervened with by the Son and Daughter. Each sought to build civilisations in their image, and arguably, the Son won. Had he not died, the Son would have killed the Father and left Mortis; and created his perfect reality - destroying the Sith, bringing his Mother to heel…” The Father shared Anakin’s memories of the Son, who became so powerful as to dominate the conflict between him and the Father and Daughter. Had Anakin not been present, it would have been over. Palpatine would have been crushed, yes, but a much greater power would have arisen in his place.

“It took time, yes, but the Son had time. I can give you that time, if you wish.” He indicated the goblet besides the man, as his body began to completely fail him. “It’s your choice. I only offer a man who had the illusion of choice, the chance to live.”

He looked at Bernael, too. “The chance to create something new here; perhaps not in opposition to the Son and Daughter, but with them. As is your choice. To not hide here, but to rule openly, honestly.” His eyes swept back to Azathoth. “Together.”

His head turned slightly. “I will have to go soon. To choose the Daughter… to sacrifice myself to turn back the World Between Worlds.” He stood.

They were both at the final point.

Azathoth nodded his head as he accepted this line of thinking from the Father. The shift of past memories of Anakin, coupled with the memories of a future Tobias Vox... He could feel it. He was not supposed to exist, that something had fundamentally broken when he began to fade away... and that face. That haunting face with sky blue eyes identical to his own. The words of the green robed man playing his mind as the eyes turned golden. His entire frame of reference had shifted, to beyond just this galaxy.

And then another memory became sorted in his mind... that of his 'birth' and what constituted that to be. The strange blue orb burrowing itself into that child... and what the orb, what it's true nature was. God.

The horrifying truth played out in Azathoth's mind. The truth of his personage and his legacy... how could he have ever accepted that reality? That lie that was manufactured across all things.

But he had tried to create his own lie, within this time. Bend and subjugate all beings to create his 'peace', his 'subjugation'. He had been willing to sacrifice anything to do that... but...

His eyes looked to the Father. Azathoth needed time, time to reflect, time to decide what he was going to do. What kind of man he would be and not driven by a compulsion planted in him since birth. The Father offered this.

"I accept," spoke Azathoth as he took the goblet, and consumed what remained within it.

As things progressed a portion of Bernael was still aware of the discussion, of what Anakin was saying, of what Azathoth was saying, but only a portion. The majority of his awareness was caught up in the battle of the Quiet Dark and the Quiet Light that was ripping each other and himself apart. He was an ancient, near immortal, being but this was a god level battle taking place within his, technically, mortal form and it was burning him up.

He sank to the flagstones before the stairs leading into the Citadel, his body writhing, shifting, becoming amorphous before reforming, almost dividing, moans and growls coming from his lips. In his mind the two halves of the Balance of this timeline warred and he tried to bring them to a resolve. The liquid of the goblet buoyed him but it too was not enough.

And then a presence brought itself to his awareness. In this place, one of the ‘weak points’ of reality, the omniversal Balance could touch him, to a degree. ’You cannot fight them. You cannot fight yourself, my agent. Neither they nor you will survive if you continue.’

’What can be done then? How do I solve this so that I may be what Anakin needs?’ he managed to get out in a grating tone, trying to hold himself together.

Instead of a response he felt his essence being drawn out, flowing around and encompassing the Quiet Dark and Quiet Light. He felt himself and the two halves of that which had once taken the name Uzuriel bond together, drawing all three essences together. Where the two halves grated against each other his essence filled the gaps, merging the two once more into a whole.

As the process continued his physical form writhed and squirmed, shifting, taking on various different beings shapes. The discordant motion slowed and a shape, in a cloak of swirling grays, hood up over a face that blurred as it shifted again and again, the eyes the only truly distinct feature, swirling orbs of many shades of gray.

Uz-Bernael nodded to Azathoth before turning to Anakin, ”The time for discordance among the Ones is past, we must assist Madelyn, you and the Daughter to be and I must work together to do so as well as to heal this galaxy. The time of being the distant presences that guide only those that come and find us has passed as well. We must be present beings, assisting all that need it, to heal. I agree, Anakin, and the new Son, Azathoth.”

The prior Father nodded. "I'll call on you soon, my friends. What I am doing... it will upset one person in particular."

"Be prepared for a fight; when he comes, it will be truly destructive." Anakin looked into the distance.

"I'm not even sure if a Family of Ones can stop him."

Azathoth mused. Two possibilities came to mind. But only time would tell to see who this him. He gave a nod, as he settled down sitting and allowed the transformation to take place.

Uz-Bernael’s head tilted to the side, in a movement that his old self would have recognized instantly, as he thought. Such a threat as Anakin spoke of gave rise to possibilities that meant that their era may be short, should they be unable to unify.

He nodded to Anakin before turning to Azathoth, ”Perhaps we should find the new Mother and help her, while Anakin is away, until the Daughter returns. Stability and unity is what all four of us will need for this to succeed.”

Gesturing up the steps with one hand he held out his other to the Son, to begin the new journey they all shared.

The Father stood, turning to head back up the stairs.

He had no further words for them.

He had no further time.

"Yes. Stability." intoned the Son, accepting and clasping the hand of the new Father.

With an equal grip, the Father shook the Son’s hand solemnly before gesturing up into the Citadel. ”Then prepare, we must.”

TAGS: @Sinrebirth, @TheSilentInfluence (Mentioned, also as Potential Daughter), @Shadowsun, @CosmoHender (Potential Daughter), @JediMasterAnne (Potential Daughter), Everyone else

 

IC: The Master of Masters
The Corridor of Darkness

He emerged, and they stood there.

Three of them.

They'd not had chance to group up, no.

Instead, Madelyn, the Mother of Balance, had just encountered two others.

Bernael, the Father of Chaos - potentially to his surprise.

Azathoth, the Son of Darkness.

They transformed.

Madelyn sprouted immense wings for a moment, and then they vanished. Her eyes were now black.

Bernael's limbs shredded into a gaggle of tentacles, and then solidified back into arms and hands. His eyes were now white pinpricks.

Azathoth would twist and curl into an immense bat-like monstrosity, and then back into a human, albeit taller and leaner than before; his eyes were now red.

Power rose within them each.

But they were clearly unbalanced for the moment.

No Light.

But the Master didn't care.

Behind him was the great balanced scales.

They would all know that the Father was dead.

Anakin was dead.

He gestured, and twin blades of blue light appeared in his hands, held backwards.

The Master of Masters did not speak.

They were far, far beyond words by now.

They each would know, by dint of their new power, their new omniscience, that he had manipulated Palpatine into unbalancing the Force so much that the original Father of Balance died; that Palpatine had gone rogue, causing a Change and creating the Twilight Timeline; that the Master had committed to the destruction of this timeline as what should never have happened.

That he was here to kill them.

TAG: @TheSilentInfluence, @Shadowsun, @darthbernael (single)

 

IC Renn Turon
Okay, who’s bright idea was this?

One moment the ancient Neti had made his peace with death, finally. Renn had held himself from that brink because it felt as though there was more that he needed and could do as a Force ghost for a time but he’d used up the last of his energy as he’d aided Leia. He’d not even been gone, glancing across the battlefield, ten minutes and he found himself back and not just as he’d been that short time ago, but back and…alive. He felt odd as he could both remember the last period he’d been a ghost as well as, seemingly, only just died. Which made him mutter under his breath at people not letting other people rest.

His eyebrows rose and he breathed, truly breathed, as he studied the battlefield even more. Some of the faces he saw, honestly quite a few of them, seemed to have the same ‘What in the Nine Hells just happened?’ look to them he felt upon his own. The focal point seemed to be twofold, one part being the seemingly immense form of Darth Vader, darkness and destruction in his hands, figuratively at the moment but only a moment’s time from it truly occurring. The other part was three beings, Leia, Barriss and Feyna with a being beyond power but one that felt as though he were fading going to a knee before them, Anakin Skywalker.

He heard what the man said but his focus was split, if he was here…his gaze found her, Vhardia! Dropping to a knee before her after a couple long strides brought him to her, he smiled. ”Didn’t expect this for either of us. But we’re back in it.”

And then the commanding voice of Vader rang out over the field, “Bring me that Beacon.”

Whipping his head around, he saw the Beacon near the three women standing before a chalice and a choice. Glancing back to Vhardia, ”Well…we’ve gotten a second chance, better not waste it, defend the beacon and assist Leia, no matter how she chooses?”

Knowing his wife would choose what she thought best, he turned and moved between the forces of Darkness and the Beacon, putting himself near the three women. He shifted, reaching out and pulling a pair of blasters to two extra arms he’d grown as two of the saber hilts at his belt leapt into a hand on either side. He settled into place, ready to defend the Beacon and all the others, reaching out to Leia to let her know what he’d told Vhardia, that they support her in whatever her choice was, given the choice Anakin had given her.

As he settled into position, he could sense the others that had been brought here, starting to filter around, make choices, decide how or where they would assist. The interesting part began as others also joined them, one with no Force presence at all who made a claim for the chalice as well, and one he couldn’t quite place, strong in the Force as they tried to assist the heroes, but also made their own play for the ‘prize’.

”This could never be simple, could it…?”

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Xundel

One moment Xundel was facing what felt like an ignominious end, about to be crushed by a massive rock and the next…he found himself…where? The little imp glanced around, trying to get his bearings and realized he was back at Coruscant, but a much different Coruscant than it had been when he left, over eighty years before. The world city was rubble and that was the best descriptor that he could give.

His attention was taken in next by both Light and Dark sitting in opposition, not far from where he stood. A being in black armor faced off against a man who stood near three females, two of which had strong Force aura’s around them and the third, he couldn’t read that well. He didn’t fully pay attention to the discussion as he was still trying to get his bearings, to understand how or why he was here now, but the older man’s words did suggest he’d been the architect of Xundel, and many others, arrival here.

He smiled softly though, as he saw the two that he’d traveled with for a time…Kyp and Adalia if he recalled right. He nodded to them and stumped over in their direction. For now though, he didn’t speak to them, sure they’d want or need their own moment to readjust as well.

Which was when a void in the Force appeared. Or rather a being that seemed to have no presence in the Force. She appeared to recognize several of the others that had been brought and her actions seemed to indicate that she was a major player in the battle. His ears twitched as he let the conversation that the armored one and the man who, Where did he go?, was now gone, had had filter through. The newcomer was making a play for the chalice that had been left.

Shaking his head, ”Always, always is it such chaos…” he muttered.

Finally, he glanced over at the two he’d moved closer to, ”So, we’re the good guys, right?”

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Tarkin

”I’ve done my best, for my people and my granddaugh…’ the thought broke off as Tarkin realized he was no longer in his bed, accepting his final moments, but rather upright and in the midst of a group of people that seemed to be as confused as he to be here now. He sighed, ”Not even the peace of death.” he muttered, using his cane to make his way through the crowd, looking for familiar faces.

When he got to a point that he could see more clearly, he shook his head, the End had come, it felt, based on everything he saw. He listened to the discussion between Force users ahead, the gathering obvious in it’s intent. One wanted to end everything and the other, with the group he was standing before, wanted to save it. Which, Tarkin reasoned, was why all of them had been brought back by the second man.

He turned and saw one familiar face in the crowd, his granddaughter. He made his way, slowly, over to Jori. ”Not sure how much time I’ve got, was just about to let go before,” He spread his arms to indicate the surroundings, ”I found myself here. I am sorry we didn’t have more time…before…but I am glad to be here with you, granddaughter.”

Another being, another one familiar, at least one of their guises, had arrived as well as he spoke to Jori and he turned, a wry expression on his face as he saw Anor, ”Khüsekhgüiles bele durb sen creche, gogu naiz bolokh?”* he asked, knowing his hrosha-gul was rusty.

*Wanting to rule the galaxy, old friend?

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Marana

’Bernael is so going to kill you…wait…where in the Nine Hells am i?’ Marana muttered as she rose to a sitting position on the rubble strewn ground. Her eyes narrowed as she realized that she was on Coruscant, and that a mad, bad battle was ongoing. Checking herself for a moment, she realized she was still in her armor and had her weapons to hand, or at least on her equipment belt, if needed.

The two, powerful Force users who were speaking had the feeling of family and one she did recognize and had thought was gone. The way he was acting seemed to indicate that not only was the one who had brought her and the others that she now saw as she glanced around but also was attempting to thwart the one in the black armor.

She reached out, trying to reach her husband through their bond. In the several long minutes that it took she studied the others even more and realized that if things were still as they had been, most of these beings thought of her as one of their foes. So why had that one brought her back with them?

And then she felt Bernael, faintly. He was the man she’d given herself too but also was…her eyebrows shot up…so much more. She tried to process this new information as even more beings appeared and the three women before the chalice the one man had left began to discuss or squabble, she didn’t care which, over the vessel.

The one that was almost a negative in the Force was interesting and Marana moved over to the side, slightly away from the others, as things began to settle out. The first newcomer she saw set her own challenge to take the chalice before another appeared, seeming to settle thoughts and a sense of wanting to work together over those that had been gathered. She snorted though as that one too made their own bid for the chalice.

She was unsure how the others would react to her being here but she did sense that letting the black armored one win would be a mistake, even if letting someone who shouldn’t have the chalice take it would be just as much of a mistake. So, instead, he made her way over to where a walking tree, a…Neti, seemed to be guarding a green glowing device.

”This the thing that armored one wants? Must be important then…” she asked before turning to watch out over the battlefield to all appearances ready to aid the Neti in defending it.

TAGS: @Sinrebirth, @CosmoHender (Mentioned), @darthhelinith (Mentioned), @JediMasterAnne (Mentioned), @TheSilentInfluence (Mentioned), @Mitth_Fisto (Mentioned), @Adalia-Durron (Mentioned), Everyone else already present and just returned to the battlefield

 

IC Kyp Durron - Adalia Durron
Coruscant - Awakening.


He was awake, but was he alive? Kyp lay still as he listened to his surroundings but the sounds made no sense. His last memory before the dark took over was a large piece of parasteel in his chest. There’d been an explosion and he’d not felt it as he had been trapped in the bubble of a Ysalamiri, below the ground. Why had he been there? That part of his memory seemed to be blank and he was unsure as to why. His chest, it wasn’t hurting and he slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head to look down.

Nothing.

There was nothing there and he duly reached his hands up to feel, no, nothing at all just his black robes and moving his arms gave him a whiff of sweat, his own. Extending his awareness as he slowly sat up he noticed debris and stone around him, he had no memory of that, no recollection of the destruction he may well have caused. He could hear a battle going on somewhere nearby but didn’t know if he’d been part of it. Looking down he was bemused as to how the hunk of parasteel had somehow been removed, and he’d not died. Or had he? Awareness was growing then he felt it, a light in the Force, a light he was more than familiar with and he spun around sharply unable to believe what he was feeling. It was her, she was just there, laying still on her side, deep red hair splayed out around her.

Adalia. She was alive.

He could feel her, she was alive. How? It didn’t matter and he proceeded to scramble across the rough rubble strewn ground to get to her. Placing his hand on her cheek he was surprised how warm she was, shaking his head in disbelief she suddenly opened her eyes and gasped. Looking up at him, her eyes filled with shock and what must have been her last thoughts before she…. died? She had died, he saw it, he was there. It’d been a couple of years since then but she’d died.

“Ads, it’s me.” He breathed.

Her lips trembled, “I’m sorry, I tried.” She whispered back. In her mind she was dying still, the red lightsaber had penetrated her chest and she knew that was it for her. Somehow, he’d made it to her to say goodbye.

“You did, but…..you’re here.”

Adalia was confused, her last memory was her dying and him not being able to stop it, before that she had no memory of how she’d gotten herself in that situation. “Where’s…..here?” She started to sit up.

Kyp wrapped his arms around her, helping her and drawing her close to him, “I don’t know and I don’t care.” He pulled her close and kissed the side her face. “You’re here and you’re alive, that’s all I care about.” He stated as he closed his eyes and put his forehead to hers.

Clutching at him she was so grateful to have this moment, if she was dying all she wanted was to have him hold her, till the end. She was expecting the end, but she didn’t hurt, and she was growing stronger by the second. “I’m not dying?” She asked quietly.

“No, and don’t ask me how.” Kyp felt his own strength growing and through their connection felt her doing the same. “I’ve not seen you in years, you ….” He could barely bring himself to say it, “died, you died and there was nothing I could do.”

Adalia pulled back to look at him. “Years?” She was more than confused.

“Yes, I buried you myself, years ago.”

“Buried me?” Adalia asked.

“Yes, you died. Don’t ask me how I don’t know but so did I!” He squeezed her gently, breathing in the scent of her hair, of her. “But we’re not dead, are we?”

“You died? The same time as me?”

“No, years later….. a few hellish years later.” Kyp said as he began to caress her cheek, “but you’re here and my living hell is over.” He added.

She clutched to him, listening to his heartbeat telling her he was really here with her, feeling her own telling her she’d not died. “Then how…?”

“I don’t care, you’re here, I’m here…..to hell with the galaxy.”

Adalia nuzzled into him, she didn’t have any memory of being apart from him for years yet she felt like he was right, felt like it had been years since she’d been so close to him. As she lay there, she could hear sound from not too far away. “There’s a battle going on, I can hear it.” She muttered.

“I don’t care.”

“Maybe we should look?”

“No.”

“Kyp?” She questioned, “we need to see if someone needs our help.” Adalia said sitting up a little more.

“I’m not helping anyone ever again, that’s how I lost you and I am not going to do that again.”

“Jedi don’t do that.” She frowned at him.

Kyp remained silent. Before his ‘death’ he’d spent the entire time in the darkness, turning his back on his Jedi life and resorting to fear, anger, pain and other negative emotions to feed him and his power. Committing crimes, becoming that scary man in the night.

“Kyp?” Adalia felt his emotions churning. “What’s wrong?”

He had to tell her, there was no way she’d not find out. “You died, I……..went dark.”

She had no words, Adalia had never trained as a Jedi, but she knew what was wrong and what was right. Even when angry, she’d controlled her temper and managed to stay mostly in the light. She knew he’d gone to the darkside in his youth, but that was past. And so was this apparently, the very, very recent past. “You…..were Sith?” She asked cautiously.

“No, not quite.” He looked away, “just really angry, hurt and broken.” He turned back, “I lost you, I lost everything I had worth living for.”

She studied his features. “Did you kill innocents?” It was a direct question; one she expected the truth and a direct answer for.

“No,” he gave his head a shake, “only those who deserved it.”

A tiny gasp escaped her lips and her hand went to her chest. He’d become something scarier maybe? “Mercenary?”

“Of sorts.”

Over the years Adalia had learned what that meant, it meant ‘don’t ask if you don’t really want to know.’ She didn’t want to know. “And now?”

“What made me like that is gone, you’re here, that’s all I need.”

Adalia nodded and the began to gather her feet beneath her and stand slowly. “Then shall I take you at your word?”

Kyp looked up at her and nodded slightly. “Yes, I swear.”

“Then get up and be the Jedi I know; someone needs help and we may be all they get.”






TAGS: @Sinrebirth, @CosmoHender, @darthhelinith , @JediMasterAnne, @TheSilentInfluence, @Mitth_Fisto,

 

IC Uz-Bernael
Facing the Master

Anakin had lied to him, to a degree, the Father realized as he stood behind Azathoth, the Son, and near Madelyn, the Mother, he reminded himself about who each was now as his body writhed and shifted. The thought only made him annoyed and even less pleased to see the Master as that being came to a halt before them.

His white eyes turned to view the Son for a moment, then turned to the Mother, his senses touching and gauging them against the power and energy he felt in himself. Nodding, he turned his attention back to the Master before the Son spoke.

"So after all this time the one hidden in the shadows reveals himself... and you thought your meddling would go unnoticed?! That we would simply sit idly by as you brought this reality to its end? You sicken me! You and Patriarch, two monsters cut from the same cloth. Even if you beat us, even if you kill us all... there are things out there that will know what you are doing, that will notice in time and they will come for you!"

A crooked smile crossed the Father’s face. Plans within plans within plans filled his mind. This entire timeline was at stake. He could feel the Darkness that was Darth Vader at a distance, could feel the heroes that had been regathered. But even still, the Master was a threat to the entire existence of this timeline. That wanted to destroy all that had been created here. He nodded at the Son, the smile turning flat as he turned back to the Master, seeing the blue blades.

The lightning from the Son was of little surprise, there were no true words needed, this was to be a battle to determine the fate of their universe as much as the one that was taking place on the surface of Coruscant.

Turning to look at the Mother, in the red light of the lightning, ”It will take us all to defeat him, so we need to hold him until the Daughter appears.”

Touching upon the power of Mortis itself, he began to alter the air density and gravity around the Master, to slow him, to make it more and more difficult for that being to move. He had to play this battle just right as he needed the rest of the Ones to know he was fighting with them, no matter what else he’d decide to do, once the battle was done.

TAGS: @Sinrebirth, @TheSilentInfluence (Mentioned, also as Potential Daughter), @Shadowsun, @CosmoHender (Potential Daughter), @JediMasterAnne (Potential Daughter), Everyone else

 

IC: Darth Vader
Battle of Coruscant

The Mandalorian line advanced and cut through his front, and Vader watched as the Beacon rushed towards Leia, protected by the big Neti Renn -

He went to squeeze his hand, but could see the front crumbling in his direction and was distracted -

They were joined by Mandalorians who had died during the war to date.

Ordo; Venku; Crosshair; Tech; Omega; Wrecker; Echo; Kom'rk; Mereel.

Vader's tide of no-name Nihil, Yuuzhan Vong and lesser Sith were bowled over, split in two not just by the ferocity of the beskar assault, but also the lapping positivity that raised Vader's enemies and panicked his. He glanced for Soliloquy, the source of what was undoubtedly battle meditation, and squeezed his mental fist as hard as possible from across the distance. Judging from the advancing Mandalorians, he could pick at another target -

His eyes roved, and he settled on the Neti, who he didn't want to interfere -

A gaggle of metal and duracrete rose up from under him to impale him -

The Mandalorians were closing on him, he had to refocus.

Snap-hiss.

His blade ignited and he took bolts upon it, reflecting them back at the elder of the two crazed Mandalorians.

Behind them came a pair of hard-looking mercs, who fired at any opportunistic attackers; Jerod and Owen.

As Tor closed the distance, knowing he had little time before he would need to focus - Vader raised a hand towards Leia; he could not afford for her to take it, and a yank of the Beacon from her grip would send it his way -

The Darksaber stabbed into his side as the Force warned him to tilt, and the Beacon tumbled off to the right.

Vader grabbed at Tor's wrist with crushing droid-strength, and yanked her blade from his side, which was sparkling; she'd caught a servomotor, not flesh, not entirely. He clipped her across her face with the backhand of his hilt, surveying the wound -

The Beacon clattered and rolled across the path of High Lord Workan, the surviving Sith leader, who had his red bloodshine blade active as he swarmed for the device, leading a group of four Nihil forward, not all together far from Xundel, Adalia and Kyp -

On the other flank, the massive Yuuzhan Vong warrior Tsalok led the remaining Yuuzhan Vong to cut across the New Republic and GEMINI lines, circling around to the rear. His angle of advance would see him pushing on the heart of their formation; the group that was centered around the goblet that would birth the Daughter of Light.

Feyna had declined, and a battered looking Isolder squeezed her arm to draw her back. Leia had switched to the Beacon, so it was down to Anor, who was arguing with Barriss. Zara had her blaster out, and was popping off shots, one bolt whizzing past Tarkin's ear as he looked to Jori -

They didn't really have time to debate it.

Barriss would know, in the Force, that things were dire.

Anor, too, in her Vongsense. Even as her weapons decimated all they touched, she would know as much... and would be confronted with her past.

Kaye was here. She looked at Anor across the battlefield and grinned her teeth, murder in her eyes. Finn was being her, his golden blade singing.

Meanwhile, Isolder pointed at the flanking Yuuzhan Vong, who Winter, Tycho and Del were already firing at. "We're going to be needed there." He frowned. "I can see Del, where's Nola?"

There was a cry out behind the Yuuzhan Vong lines and the creature they'd faced rushed forward towards the New Republic defenders. It had, somehow, survived. A snap-hiss and a set of Jedi stepped between Feyna, Isolder and the creature as it leapt over Winter and Tycho. Corran grinned. "Seems like we missed something." With him was Clighal, Lowbacca and Tahiri, each deflecting thud and razor bugs. Astarta stepped close to Feyna, covering her with her own body.

"Queen Mother, I am sorry I left you unprotected for so long."

Ignored for the moment, besides Han stood Lumpawaroo and Xaverri. Lumpy rumbled, lifted his bowcaster, and shot a grutchin.

"This is utter pandemonium," Xaverri said.

Her eyes picked out another blue-skinned individual; a Chiss, it seemed, a woman. Why she had been brought back by Anakin, Xaverri couldn't say, but she was besides a family - two women and a young boy. Xaverri recognised them as Gariel, Jalynn and Arek Graul. "Hm. Apparently Anakin took pity on Emperor Graul's wife and kids. What a swell guy."

There was a group of Nihil, bloody, sharp knives galore, making their way towards them in the chaos of battle.

TAG: @HanSolo29, @Lady Belligerent, @JediMasterAnne x 2, @CosmoHender, @Mitth_Fisto x 2, @darthbernael x 4, @Adalia-Durron, @Galactic-vagabond42, @TheSilentInfluence - this week will actually be a multiple singles week. Good luck! I intend this to get messy.

 

IC: The Master of Masters
Enough



While the Mother hesitated, the other two swung.

The Son started, as was to be expected.

The Father followed, as was also to be.

”It will take us all to defeat him, so we need to hold him until the Daughter appears.”

"Oh yes," he said as the red lightning screamed and clawed for him.

He split into six, each a Black-Coat wielding a pair of blue blades.

The bolts did not affect him when so, and a gesture of one hand sent a gust of wind through the Father's efforts and hammered into him - and through him.

A set of sparkling yellow essences tumbled out of the Father, and he would instantly realise he had lost memory of his more esoteric moves, his battle techniques, his Force acumen; it was there, accessible, but it was akin to a painter who had forgotten to paint. The stars bounced and rebounded across the arena, and the Father wouldn't even have the technical knowledge to remember how to draw them to him with telekinesis. A gesture of a finger sent them rolling across the stone floor -

The other hand pointed vaguely towards the Mother, and a wave of black spheres fluttered up, thirteen in total, seeking to herd her and drive her back. They seemed to glitter and glimmer, inviting her to strike at them, but they were also content to batter upon her, and smother, the pain not incredible where they contacted, but the sphere would pull back and allow another to do so again and again -

As for the Son, without another word, the six figures, limned in lightning, bounded forward, slashing with a dozen blades, intending to overwhelm him with sheer numbers. Any energy attack thrown at them would be dispersed across the six, and all but nullified. Damage, yes, but not to the potent that the Son sought. Creases and curves were cut into the Black-Coat, but the man should have been a smoking huddle on the floor.

Instead he was on the offensive.

TAG: @Shadowsun, @darthbernael, @TheSilentInfluence, @ComosHender (potentially for the latter)

 

IC: Han Solo
The Battlefield, Coruscant​

​

Han Solo had never been one to believe in the existence of a higher power. Sure, the Force had recently opened his eyes to certain aspects of the universe that he had once thought improbable—but even then, the so-called 'mystical energy field' contained elements that remained firmly grounded in reality. It was something tangible… real.

So, how was he to explain the strange trip he had just experienced? It wasn’t possible for a living being to die… and then find themselves staggering out of the grave as if it had only been a hallucinogenic dream. That was the sort of thing that landed you in a facility with padded walls, spilling your guts to a shrink that didn’t know the difference between a womp rat and the hairpiece plastered atop his head.

It was surreal and purely ridiculous… not to mention, it broke the rules of reality.

And yet, he was here.

He was alive.

Did that alone prove the existence of a higher power? Was the galaxy ruled by a council of celestial gods?

Han inwardly scoffed at the notion. He didn’t want to believe it. In fact, it was probably better if he refrained from pondering it further. Some stones were better left unturned, and in this case, he was content to remain ignorant of the truth. He was still breathing, and so was Lumpy and Xav; that’s the only thing that mattered.

Well, almost.

Someone had a cruel sense of humor to bring him back to life, only to deposit him in the midst of a chaotic battle. Judging by the urban sprawl that stretched toward the horizon—even if most of it was a wreck of smoking rubble—and the sharp sting of industrial fumes, they had arrived on Coruscant. That realization elicited a grumble under his breath. Of course, it was Coruscant. Where else would the heroes of the galaxy make their last stand? He never understood the appeal of such an automated world. It was too sterile for his tastes. But that never seemed to prevent the next 'big bad' from wanting to seize control. It was an elusive prize, and perhaps it made sense that they would refer to it as the 'Queen of the Core'... even if he thought that it was overrated.

Nevertheless, they had a job to do. While no one had directed him to do so, Han felt compelled to stop his son Ben… Vader… or, whatever he was calling himself now. Either way, the endgame remained the same. The darkness had fully consumed the boy, snuffing out the light and leaving behind an empty husk. He had become a mechanical monster that now threatened to unravel the very threads that held the galaxy together.

There had been a brief time when Han had actually considered redemption. He thought that he would be able to reach the boy and bring him back from the brink… but all of that changed the moment he had committed genocide. Becoming a victim also had an adverse effect on his sensibilities. That was the point of no return. His son ceased to exist, and Han had no other choice but to remove him from the galactic stage.

Inhaling deeply, the Corellian clamped down on that thought and reached down toward his thigh, feeling the familiar weight of the DL-44 strapped to his side. His expression remained grim as he unfastened the safety and removed the antiquated weapon from its holster.

"Hm," Xaverri exclaimed above the din, drawing Han’s attention. "Apparently, Anakin took pity on Emperor Graul's wife and kids. What a swell guy."

A scowl crossed his countenance, though he did not allow that to distract him from his goal. "That’s more than I would’ve done," he murmured quietly, clambering over the debris-strewn surface. "Whatever happened to accountability, huh? Or what about guilty by association? And before you say it, those kids are old enough to know better." He scoffed. "I’m not saying I’m perfect, but—"

Han trailed off at Xav’s knowing look, prompting him to flash a lopsided grin. "Alright, fine… maybe I’m just becoming jaded in my old age. I admit it. Does that make you happy, or do I have to elaborate?"

Before she could respond, he held up a hand to silence her. "On second thought, save it for later. We have work to do… important work."

He angled his chin toward the dark figure in the distance, emphasizing his point with a simple hand gesture. Without another word, Han then bounded forward, raising his blaster and firing off several shots at a group of knife-wielding Nihil approaching through the haze.

This is where the fun begins.

TAG: @Sinrebirth; @CosmoHender; @Mitth_Fisto; @Lady Belligerent; @JediMasterAnne; @darthbernael; @Adalia-Durron; @galactic-vagabond422; @TheSilentInfluence

 

IC: Zara
Devastated

Barriss lunged for the goblet, and Zara gasped as she did. Feyna had declined it, and Leia hadn't even been tempted. The other... whatever they were, had spoken at length, but the decision was made. Zara ran over to Barriss as the fluid from the Pool of Knowledge filled her, knocking her back. She instantly began to change, immense feathery wings emerging to cushion her fall, and then fading away as Zara caught her.

"Barriss," Zara had tears in her eyes. "What are you doing?"

The battle raged around them, but in that moment it was just the two of them.

As Barriss's mystical connection to the Force grew, she began to fade, and would know that she was not able to exist in this reality without damaging nature itself. She would be sequestered on Mortis... as the Daughter. Barriss would fade from her in time, especially as she would be immortal, and eternally so... the God of Mortis would outlive Zara and her children...

She also knew that Madelyn was the Mother of Balance... and Azathoth was the Son of Darkness... and the former Eternal Emperor Bernael was the Father of Chaos...

But that didn't matter right now.

TAG: @CosmoHender (combo), mentions for @TheSilentInfluence, @darthbernael, @Shadowsun
---
The battle rageth; central flank

Han's trusty DL blew chunks out of half the Nihil before they sought cover, drawing blasters -

Lumpawaroo fired his bowcaster and blew apart the rocky protection they had, and Xaverri began to pierce the survivors with bolts from a small-powerful looking holdout. Two or three managed to escape and withdraw, even as Yuuzhan Vong took one flank. The Nihil and Reapers were targeting the center, and the Sith the other flank - the one that included the sparkling Beacon. Jedi were defending the Queen Mother and her closest advisors, even as a vox-like monstrosity screamed and spat acid at them.

It was a mess.

Xaverri kept her eye on the retreating Nihil, and her eyes caught the Mandalorians struggling with the man in black.

Her expression narrowed, her otherworldly senses answering the unspoken question.

"That's Ben."

She looked back to Feyna. "Where are we going, Han?"

TAG: @HanSolo29, mention for @JediMasterAnne
---
the right flank

As their amphistaffs went limp, their vonduun crab opened up and wandered off, and even their thud and razor bugs took flight as if avian in attention span, the Yuuzhan Vong hesitated, but Tsalok howled at them.

"This pretender is an Anor, charlatan of Yun-Harla like Nom before her."

He growled. "Don't listen to her perversions." It seemed that Vongsense, like the Force, only worked on the weak minded, and his base virility inspired those creatures bonded to him in spirit and body to remain. He was an immense Yuuzhan Vong, and he roared at Anor. "I do not accept you as our divine intercessor when Vader stands there, the incarnation of Yun-Yuuzhan himself!"

He jagged a finger as if speaking sacrament.

"The First, renamed Zildrog, renamed Yun-Yuuzhan. We know his many names!"

He readied his immense amphistaff.

"Fight, or die, Supreme Overlord."

TAG: @Mitth_Fisto
---
Absently

The battle meditation rallied all manner of ally, the spells wove caused disruption and chaos.

A figure plopped next to him; in a Black-Coat.

"Well, well, well," he drawled. "I made it back. I doubt Azathoth will like it, but what can you do."

He caused an oversized pistol to appear.

"I'd like a chat with your Darkness, if you'd allow me. I'm four short."

That dry chuckle would be known by Soliloquy.

Of all the times.

Why did Anakin bring him back?

Did he even do so? Did he merely slip through the cracks?

TAG: Mitth_Fisto

Generic open TAG continues for @galactic-vagabond422, @Adalia-Durron, @darthbernael, @darthhelinith, @Shadowsun, @Lady Belligerent, @HanSolo29 as applicable or in combo

 

IC The Father/UzBernael
Battle in the Citadel, Mortis

One moment, the Father was directing the flows of Mortis, the next he felt as though he was moving through quicksilver, he could see what he needed but it was just out of grasp. His teeth ground, the points rasping, as he growled, recalling a time in mortality even as tenuously as he could have been called a mortal even then, when something similar had occurred. However, here he could see what had been taken, see how the Master was taunting him with them.

The Master also was toying with the Son and Mother, forcing the trio apart and turning them,, once again, into a collection of individuals, instead of united as they needed to be. But, without the bouncing spheres of himself he was simply a strong, fast assassin, even immortal as he was now. Which would not assist either of the two in the following moments. He blurred as he sped up, chasing the spheres.

In the same moment, his hands moved, four rune daggers appearing in both hands, pulled fro their sheathes on his belt. He darted swiftly between the battling Son and the besieged Mother, his arms flinging out in their directions. There was a shrug as he could see how either could interpret his actions as a potential attack upon them, until the daggers flashed past them. Four flared as they sought four of the glittering black spheres that harassed the Mother, the other four flared as they sought flesh of four of the six facing the Son.

His speed carried him several steps up one wall as the Master rolled and redirected the spheres to distract him further. Another growl escaped his lips and his white eyes blazed. He dove and rolled, jumping after the bouncing and rolling golden spheres. He began to close on them and a roar escaped him as they darted off in separate directions.

A choice was made, follow one of them. With a final burst of speed, his hand closed around one of the golden, glowing essences. It jerked in his grasp, lifting him from his feet. But he held firm and drew it closer to him. His mind sparked with knowledge, some of what he’d lost slightly recovered, even if he hadn’t cracked the shell of what the Master had done. His white eyes flared even brighter as a broad grin crossed his face.

Lightning flared in his palm, blazing into the essence. And then a roar of pain filled the chamber, as the essence exploded, mangling the hand that held it. He shook and shuddered as several piercing, star hot beams flared from what had been his closed fist, more of his knowledge pouring back into him as the beams flared completely through the parts of his body that they hit.

Cradling the mangled hand to his body, he charged after the remaining golden essences. Herding them, trying not to let the Master know he was, he got them in one corner of the chamber. His still good hand flared with Lightning and he fired off bolt after bolt, aimed at each of the essences. They hit at almost the same instant.

He wasn’t sure, next, if the Citadel itself rocked or if it was just him and the essences as they erupted but it certainly felt as though the entire edifice had done so. Beam after beam pierced him, ripping through him, as the essences pour his power and rebounded the power he’d used back into him. The corner of the chamber seemed to recede, the Father realizing that the explosion had thrown him through the air. His eyes momentarily saw the battles that the Son and Mother were facing before he slammed into the far wall.

His breath blew out as he rebounded from the wall, falling to a smoking, pierced through in many spots, heap on the floor of the chamber. Collapsing to his side, feeling his self, his knowledge, his power returned, his blurry vision saw the other two Ones before his sight went dim as his godly form began the process of healing itself.

TAGS: @Sinrebirth, @TheSilentInfluence (Mentioned), @Shadowsun (Mentioned), @CosmoHender (For the Daughter to see part of what she’s coming into), Everyone else