Tor
The last stand

"Ahhhh," Tor screamed her head snapping back around as quickly as it had been knocked to the side. Her grip was strong on the blade bolstered by the rage in her chest. She wasn't giving up, she was never giving up. This was the end of everything, it wouldn't do to just lay down and die. She shoved her blaster into the gap she'd made and fired off shots at point blank range. He had a trick all force users did. He'd absorb the energy but, she knew that only went so far.

Behind her the Beskar line grew with the fallen the cordon growing wider and wider. A thought occurring to her.

"Mando'ad." She cried to the children of Mandalore. "Fire on this black hearted aruetii." On cue half the defenders of Mand'alor turned opening fire on the sith. Tor ripped her blade from the hand of Vader taking the opportunity to slash at Vader from behind.

Ka'rta let her blasters loose an unending stream of golden blasts. Her armor was blackened with the blasts deflected at her but it did little to slow her down. The rage of the darkside was nothing compared to the fury of the Mandalorians, and the strength of Beskar. He would fall this day. So said the Mand'alor.

Following up her slash Tor opened fire with her blaster. Vader was now fighting a war on two fronts which would he choose?

TAG: @Sinrebirth

 

OOC: The following is a combo with @Lady Belligerent and @Sinrebirth – thank you so much!!


IC: Sybelle and the Graul Family
The Battlefield, Coruscant

Waking from what she could only guess was her eternal rest, Sybelle was suddenly standing in Hell. It was obviously Coruscant, but a Coruscant that was being decimated by fighting. Her heart ached for the lives lost and the destruction of historic structures, everything else could be replaced over time.

She shook her head and took a closer look at the other beings around her, some of them appeared as confused as she felt. "Pardon my ignorance," she asked one of the women, "I’ve been away for a while, can you tell me what’s happened?"

Gaeriel looked over. "We all died, and now we're all back. It's utter pandemonium," she pointed. "But I guess that's the bad guy." She indicated the black-armoured man, and then the burly Yuuzhan Vong and refined-looking Sith Lord. "And I'd guess those are his lieutenants." She winced. "Not sure why we're back."

"So we can atone," Jalynn said, and she lifted her hands and sent a tumbling piece of masonry into a man clothed in black and plasteel and blood. Little Arek, a teenager, looked at the woman.

"We're the Graul family, the Eternal Family," he said, not with the teenage bluster one would expect.

Sybelle nodded slowly that she had indeed heard their replies, the woman who answered her first confirmed her suspicion. She had been returned to the living, but why? How was one even selected for reincarnation? Reanimating? Was there a lottery for this sort of thing?

Gah! She was overthinking the situation. The young man seemed her best bet for answers, and he had touched her heart with his serious countenance. She moved over to stand closer to him, "Mr. Graul, I’m Sybelle, I feel like I’m at a terrible disadvantage here, do you know why your companion is attacking the man in black?" It seemed best not to interrupt the young woman who was of the opinion that there was something to atone for.

"Because he's trying to kill us," she said drily. A second man dove up, firing at them. Gaeriel tugged at Arek and the Chiss woman. Jalynn wove debris as a shield. "Do you have a weapon, or do you intend to keep chatting?"

There were Jedi, Sith, droids, monsters, troopers, maniacs... the entire cosmos seemed to have gone mad.

Sybelle rolled her eyes and sighed, "that’s a perfectly helpful explanation," she mumbled under her breath. It had certainly not helped her to understand why someone, or something, had raised women and children from the grave to be attacked.

"Do you see a weapon?" Sybelle asked, "I’m afraid my rock-throwing skills aren’t up to par with yours." She shook her head over the madness. This was a lot to take in for a woman who chose a life far away from conflict. She was one of the people who came in years later to sift through the debris for valuable clues as to why these beings destroyed each other.

"I need a valid reason, besides 'he hit me first,' before I’m going to harm or kill another being," Sybelle insisted.

"Because he’s going to try and kill you if you don’t?" Jalynn hissed. One of the Nihil threw a grenade, and Arek reached for it, but it exploded and covered the Graul’s with some kind of goop. Gaeriel struggled against it, as a Nihil with a wicked-looking blade stalked towards them.

"Help us, please!"

Sybelle had no weapon, but this fellow's blade looked interesting. It wasn’t terribly valuable, or wouldn’t have been in her time, but it looked filthy enough to at least give someone a nasty infection.

She held her hand out and accessed the Force, it was something she had ignored for most of her life, but she didn’t want the young man to be killed. In her mind’s eye, she saw the blade pulling from the Nihil and sailing through the air and into her hand. Did she imagine it? Did it move?

She focused and poured all her strength into pulling the weapon away and into her hands.

It yanked into her hand, and the Nihil looked perplexed. It followed the blade's journey and hissed. He went got a blaster -

A moment later, the dust revealed one more man; a human who had died to leave this realm and take a Darkness away from it… and so was brought back.

Aryan Graul.

Except this Aryan was not born of this timeline. He came from another, the Force tapping into his psyche to summon him through the nocturnal realm of sleep. During the time when the physical body rested, the mind continued to wander, which was the closest an entity could ever come to becoming transient. This allowed for a natural transition. The brain would simply process the experience as another dream or vision; as if passing through another place and time.

This technique worked exceptionally well when the brain itself had been traumatized, shattering the mental abilities of an individual and rendering them delirious... or broken.

That was the case for Aryan Graul when he finally awoke from his slumber and gasped with a long, anguished cry. He heaved pitifully in an effort to control his erratic breathing, but it proved futile as long as his heart continued to beat rapidly, pumping adrenaline throughout his enfeebled body. He began to rise to compensate for the rush, staggering under his own weight—but then he hesitated.

Despite the fear that was evident in his wide eyes, his expression remained relatively vacant. It was as if he was lost, or perhaps distracted by some distant thought. And yet, as he surveyed his surroundings for the first time, he gaped at the sheer complexity of the scene. It made no sense to him. There were far too many variables to fully comprehend the extent of the ongoing conflict—it was a conflict, right? It was difficult to tell with so many beings gathered together in a chaotic mix of alien and human. They were all strangers to him; he had no recollection of ever seeing them before, and so they meant nothing—

Wait.

No… not quite.

"Jay," he stammered in a slurred whisper, recognition briefly flitting across his features.

Jalynn. He knew her. She was his daughter, and she often came to visit him at the Cottage. They had long talks, arranged for walks outside the facility in the warm sunshine, and shared meals together. She had also brought him gifts.

A hint of a smile came to his lips, but it quickly faded when he canted his head to regard her companion… a Chiss?

Suddenly, a memory emerged from within the darkest recesses of his mind, breaking through the mental fog to reach the surface of his awareness. It was a rare occurrence for Aryan to recall something from his past, so he eagerly latched onto it and savored the moment.

What he saw was a Chiss woman, so similar to the one currently standing beside his daughter. Was she the same Chiss woman who had visited him in the past? Within his dreams?

Or… had it been real?

Before he could process his feelings and convert them into coherent thoughts, the images began to fade back into the ether…

No.

Come back.

And then they were gone, lost to the whims of his addled mind.

With a weary sigh, Aryan slumped back on his haunches and continued to stare at the woman, oblivious to the danger that surrounded him.



Sybelle tossed the blade aside when she saw the Nihil grab a blaster. "Ugh! Why am I in the middle of this?" She grumbled to herself and then a man appeared right in front of her, and he looked as out of place as she felt.

Her first impulse was to soothe him, and offer information. Hell, she was still disoriented and had no idea what the kriff "eternal family" even meant.

"We need to move," she said calmly to the man. She didn’t want to upset him, but this was a very precarious position, "can you stand? We really must get somewhere safe," she put her arm around the newcomer's waist to assist him to his feet, "my name is Sybelle, and I’ll help you."

Aryan’s lips moved wordlessly as he struggled to process the scene unfolding around him. His concentration was so great that he did not immediately protest when the woman laid her hands upon his waist to assist him. In truth, he had grown accustomed to the White-Coats attending to him at various points throughout the day, so he merely submitted himself to more of the same.

Naturally, he regained his balance and rose to his feet, but when he turned to thank his newest benefactor, Aryan found that he was uncomfortably close to the stranger’s face. The close proximity stirred his awareness and conjured another hazy memory from the distant past. It depicted a Chiss woman conversing with him in a domestic setting, her voice muted while she shared intimate secrets with him. While he could not pinpoint the exact moment, he felt an intense sense of longing that ultimately compelled him to reach up and touch Sybelle’s face.

As his fingers brushed against her pale skin, a name materialized within his mind. Aryan spoke it aloud before it could become another casualty of his declining mental state.

"Bell."

There was a continuing tide of violence, and it didn't seem to have an ending.

It couldn't.

Each side was approximately as powerful as the other.

But one side had Vader.

Aryan would see the man in the distance, wrestling with Mandalorians; Yuuzhan Vong, Nihil, Sith - they were all here. Aryan would be especially damaged by it all, unable to remember precisely when he was.

For Sybelle's purposes, there was a purr from inside the man; in her head.

Oh, there you are.

The voice echoed inside his head, merging with his thoughts and emotions as if they were his own. It further contributed to the chaos by creating a maze of perceptions that made it nearly impossible to sort through the confusion. As a result, Aryan struggled to maintain his touch on reality. This was evident by the way his eyes frantically searched his surroundings in a vain effort to find clarity…

… but he found none.

Vader.

Vong.

They were both dead…

And yet…?

No.

Alive.

They were… here?!

NO!

STOP!

With a feral growl, Aryan lunged forward and grasped desperately for Sybelle’s arms, his fingers curling into fists as he found purchase on her shirt. He held onto her and refused to let go, pulling her toward him with a strength that seemed unnatural for someone in his condition.

As he drew her close, the mysterious voice continued to echo within his mind. It was the same utterance repeated incessantly, accompanied by an inner warmth that captivated him with its seductive power. Ultimately, he succumbed to its irresistible allure and parted his lips to speak.

"There… you arrrreee," Aryan recited in a guttural snarl, his voice adopting an inhuman quality as he stared into her eyes.

Sybelle was taken aback momentarily by the familiarity in the man’s tone, but then she recalled a select few had called her "Belle", but they had been her lovers. It was plausible that the stranger shortened her name, but there was no mistaking the way he looked at her. It was as if she was familiar and intimate, Sybelle felt sensations from his touch that ran to areas she didn’t care to think about on a battlefield.

Oh, there you are.

That voice stopped her in her tracks.

It was in her mind…someone spoke it inside her head in a strange voice.

"Kriffing hell, access the damned Force once in a century and now there are voices in my head," Sybelle grumbled as she tried to get the man to move with her, but his demeanor was shifting and she was worried he was perhaps having some sort of psychosis event. That realization struck as he pulled her close causing Sybelle to gasp, "uh… I want to help you, but this isn’t the time or place. But, yes… I’m right here."

The stranger had a firm grip on her, and he was stronger by far. She tried to pry his fingers loose, all while keeping an eye on how close the Nihil were.

He didn’t smell of alcohol at least, but she trembled when he snarled and repeated the same words that she’d heard in her mind. "I’ve already died, so you won't frighten me by snarling," she said firmly, "now, come on."

The authoritative tone of the woman’s voice caused Aryan to hesitate. It infiltrated the mental fog that had hindered him and made its way deep into the recesses of his mind, eliciting a spark of clarity. The elusive voice had also gone silent—if only momentarily, allowing him to recompose himself.

"Already… died," Aryan repeated warily, his voice dissolving into a garbled slur. His grip then slackened, one hand falling freely from Sybelle’s arm as he canted his head to search the horizon. Again, he noted Vader's commanding presence as a Yuuzhan Vong contingent accompanied him across the battlefield. Their existence was an impossibility. "All of them… they’re… gone. Already died."

As he shuffled along at the Chiss woman's side, his hand wavered toward the offending figures. "Do you… know them?" he asked in a more lucid tone, his blue eyes reflecting his keen curiosity. "What about… me?"

The question triggered a familiar routine, one he had taught himself to recite whenever he felt himself faltering. It was a simple mantra that served as both his anchor and his "gateway" into the wider world. It kept him grounded in reality. Without it, he feared that he would become lost.

"My name is Aryan Graul. I have dementia. I live in the Cottage Nursing Home—"

TAG: @Lady Belligerent; @Sinrebirth; those on Coruscant

 

IC: Supreme Leader Vezrra Anor & Soliloquy - A Combo with Sinre
A flank

Tsalok began to be crushed upon by the Vongspawn monstrosity, and there was a sound of a blaster bolt as Anor concentrated. The shot took Anor in the side of the throat, emerging from behind. It was, in theory, a death wound, though her assailant doubted it would stop the woman.

“Doesn’t feel nice, does it, dying?”

A hand snapped up instinctually over the wound. Burned flesh exposed those black diamond scales that were marred by blaster burn. Already they were growing back, rebalancing and reshifting until it within seconds it was like that discomfort had never happened. Having grafted a hybrid skin for her form that included amphistaff scales had seemed the ultimate paranoia, but it had just paid off with her life. Looking back she saw him there.

Ike sneered at her, and gestured with his own hand, a clawed one. His Vongsense divided the creatures, and Tsalok stood, bloodied, and roared. The Yuuzhan Vong roared back, and began to follow him in charging at the Jedi and GEMINI line again.

“Let’s finish this, girl.“

He eyed Soliloquy, a roiling mass of flesh and sorcery, and he pointed his blaster. It was a simple enough weapon, and he appreciated its simplicity. The other Black-Coat, his hood having dropped back to reveal Arb, simply backed off, grinning.

Ike fired for the Croke’s heart, and with a gestured hand, the selfsame horde of Vongspawn descended on Soliloquy.

Ike wasn’t playing.

“Dance, monsters, dance!”

While Ike focused on Soliloquy Anor's eyes flicked as she sent a couple of her Laviathan Nang Hul at him. They would attack like thud bugs but after hitting would latch on and begin to drain the vitality and soul from him. She sent another two at the black coated individual. That was all she could spare as she focused once more on the tide of Tsalok, and sending the biots near the man to kill him once more.

Soliloquy for his part saw the shot. With his chosen forms eyes how could he not? This body could see colors the rest her couldn't even dream of! With a Force Barrier he encapsulated his form to protect it as he continued to focus coordinating the allies.

The black cloaked individual was revealed to be illusionary, and the attacks passed through. Ike for his part drew a bead on the attackers and shot them both into shreds. Tsalok, finally, began to succumb, but he thrashed against the creatures.

Ike watched Soliloquy take the shot and continue to support the battle, and shrugged. "Fine. Be like that." He pointed the blaster at Anor, waited for her to finish her ministrations. His Vongsense wrestled with hers, and they would be locked in a fight for the Yuuzhan Vong soul.

"Shall we finish this?"

Anor began to feel a trickle of blood come out of her nose as she struggled for control, focusing her mind harder and stronger than she had ever had to in life on a desire with abilities she had only had a short while. She was having to consume souls she had stockpiled now to bolster herself and yet she wasn't winning. Grunting she felt her Amphistaff spit at Ike as she kept the pressure on Tsalok. If she let up, if she stopped to deal with Ike she knew she would see Tsalok rise again, and perhaps this time the monster of a man would reach her and be her undoing. Ike, Ike was a pain and a nuisance she had eaten once before. Tsalok was a challenger.

"I ate your soul and saw your life. Burned through the pages and the barriers that make you so pathetic. Now you show my choice was right. You are weak and cannot resist a hope, no matter how false The Professor dangles before you!" She spat herself toward him now as her skin grew tense. Waiting for the pain to come again.

Soliloquy attention was shifted somewhat at those words. She might of lost the drink of Knowledge, but she just had one of those rare and unique individuals drop into her lap! How the Yuuzhan Vong had been able to do such a thing was, was frankly unheard of! And for Soliloquy to admit that meant that it was astounding, and if it was astounding, well. . .that was something Soliloquy had to learn! From the sounds of it the woman didn't likely have a journal or notes for her to steal so that meant she needed to ingratiate herself somehow. But how? Hmm.

Well the cloak had been an illusion, so. . .with a negligent wave of a tentacle she hurled a storm of rocks at Ike. A hail storm of stone to distract and keep his aim untrue. If she got lucky maybe concuss the man into unconsciousness! Who knows, worth a shot. While the rest of her focus remained on coordinating the battle.

Ike danced, nimble like water, as if stepping upon but in-fact around the spit, snarling. "I'm pathetic? Me? When you're here, trying to save a people that shouldn't exist? This place is going to be destroyed, Anor, you idiot." He was, nonetheless, panting heavily, and though Ike was clearly stronger than he acted, he wasn't almighty.

Tsalok was struggling; dying, arguably, and then Ike took a hail of rocks and his aim went off kilter. With a growl he used his Vongsense to seize a bevy of panicked razor bugs and redirect them at Soliloquy, before whirling around to look for Anor, conscious of how exposed he was -

As Ike was pelted Anor felt the constriction of the amphistaff upon her arm tighten. Stepping toward Ike she hurled her blorash and fire jelly pouches at his legs. She had no illusions that this would kill him, but if it landed it should slow him and possibly with the fire jelly maim him. If he was slowed or maimed she would have an opening to advance. All she had to do was somehow get this to be a grapple and he would be finished. As for Tsalok she had to keep her focus on him, finish him off! Something had to give so she could stop splitting her focus.

Soliloquy took the bevy of razor bugs, their bodies becoming lodged in her own Gree form. Her forms golden glow dimming as blood wept from the wounds. Her high pitched scream from it was turned into a directed Force Scream from freshly formed Ithorian lungs she was rocking in her body. If Ike was off balance enough, perhaps it would not only deafen but stun the man to stop being such a little pretty dancer that was making it harder and harder for Soliloquy to maintain her Battle Meditation!

Ike was bound, burned, and battered by sound.

He had managed to only be secured by one foot, but he had to drop to one knee to keep his balance, his undershirt aflame, his hair ruined, no longer coifed.

Tsalok, mercifully expired.

His body finally stilled.

Ike looked up, pointed his blaster one more time at Anor.

"Don't."

"Then stop. Accept your spot as witness, surrender. I have tasted your life once, you have been weighed. You have been measured. You have been found wanting. Cease your resistance and you may yet live." Anor simply stated as she as she finally felt the main resistance to her supremacy for her people be defeated and the contender brought low. She was feeling the strain, the pain of exertion and if she could conserve her strength for a moment she might be ready for the next battle in the war for the galaxy. Whatever and whomever that might be.

Soliloquy seeing herself free for the moment popped and dropped the razor bugs from her body before shaking and shimmering away the damages to her shells flesh. Keeping a wary eye on Ike she redoubled her efforts on Battle Meditation to see the rest of this battle field secured and the beacon recovered with hopefully, eventually, Vader's head on a stick.

The skies of Coruscant seemed to be acquiring hair-line fractures...

Soliloquy would feel some resistance to his commands.

Somewhere, a dynamic had changed. Feyna was speaking. The Beacon, the Force would say, was repaired, miraculously, and shining. Active? But in his whose hands?

There was a growing noise, of clattering weapons, of surrender, of a refusal to fight - from those Soliloquy was bolstering, too. A roar, immense, metallic; a death rattle? Somewhere, else, in the distance of the battlefield.

Ike, for his part, looked dejected.

"I don't have a choice. I never did."

He squeezed the trigger.

Did he expect he would kill Soliloquy? No.

Did he expect he would die, again, here? Yes.

Anor took in the changes of the world around them, but in the end the choice was made as she saw Ike shoot the tentacled one. As the body slumped to the ground she leapt forward, driving her amphistaff forward as a spear through aimed for Ike's heart. The head would snap up to rip out the man's throat as she let the man seal his own fate.

Soliloquy dropped to the ground in a heap, the pain of being shot was numbing and the last vestiges of control through Battle Meditation were slipping away were gone completely in that rattling moment. Shaking their awareness out of their shell and once more reminding themselves that this was not truly themselves true self, they let it ooze away and a new shell to stand up from the dirt. Standing in the form of a male Barabel that stretched out as he felt his new limbs. "Task done, another begins." he simply hissed before taking off in a run to find the source of the beacon and what was happening, ignoring the person that had shot him entirely.

It could be said that the repeat attacks had wounded and slowed Soliloquy.

But Anor?

She killed Ike.

Again.

This time for good.

He held his throat as he tumbled, gasping, his eyes looking at Anor. Accusing; and then, grateful.

Soliloquy had to get beyond a massive brawl between the surviving Jedi and Sith to reach the Beacon, but it was petering out; more dead than alive…

Anor shook her head once as she waved a hand, bidding the blorash jelly to consume the corpse. Let it dissolve, bones and all. There was nothing worthy in this pathetic person that had amounted to little more than a tool. Nothing to enshrine, nothing to remember.

Soliloquy slinked off after stopping to look back and bow to the woman. Seeing her control as absolute and her chosen way to win the fight had frightened him somewhat. He was in no state for another major battle and reality was cracking. He had to be ready to try every trick and underhanded theorem he had ever heard to potentially survive if reality collapsed, defense from the mundane would not be possible during such a trial.

Anor walked forward to claim her position as Supreme Leader and her words to never be questioned by the warriors that remained here ever again. "Stand with me or die!" She bellowed at them in their own tongue. A defiant strength that was born not of righteousness as many might guess, but from a defiant determination that would make her hold on long after her flesh would be shorn away by whatever storm they now faced.

They were Yuuzhan Vong, and they would not die quietly.

TAG: @Coruscant News Network and all on world

 

OOC: Combo with Sinre

IC: Feyna Organa-Chume, Isolder, and Arek Graul I (and a couple of mentions of Nola Deidder)
Coruscant

Feyna eyed the comm with no small amount of skepticism. A speech, here, in the middle of a battle with all of them fighting for their lives? She didn't even know what she could say.

She was suddenly distracted as an enemy Vong broke through the defensive line, moving to attack Del--but Nola was on it, quickly firing.

In the distance, Isolder pointed.

"Look."

Between the two groups, there was a set of dancing blades, fighting off both sides, and attempting to bring an end to the battle. Three Force users, including a member of Yoda's species, and two Jedi Masters. If the battle could be stopped, then the attackers here would die out.

Del and Nola would be busy enough as Yuuzhan Vong were supplemented by Nihil raiders in black-garb, and there was a Sith in the mess of it. Astarta twirled a seemingly ceremonial pike, but then launched in and impaled the red-bladed man, who cried out. Del took a shot across the staff at a Vong, ducked a shiv stab by a Nihil -

"Feyna," Isolder said gently. "I know how much you've always hated speeches, but you can do this. If we beat Vader, then what? We genocide the Yuuzhan Vong? What about the Sith? There are dozens of them now. If we drive them into the shadows, they'll just come back. You and I both know that."

His voice was really very weak. "I have faith in you."

Feyna gave her husband a little nod, and kissed his cheek; he was getting weaker, it seemed, she hoped he could hang on just a little longer.

She was still trying to gather her thoughts, to summon up something to say. Nearby, Nola fired at the Nihil that was trying to stab Del.

Feyna struggled for the words, but finally, she flipped the comlink on.

"To those of you here already fighting on the side of freedom‐-firstly and above all, thank you. I know it's not the fight we expected, it’s been hard, and I know we're tired. But it's not over, and we must fight on.

"To those of you who fight for Vader"--no more Ben, he was only Vader, as Zorn had ceased to be Luke--"consider this: betrayal and deceit are the hallmarks of the Sith. You are a means to his end, and even if you triumph with him today, he will seek to to dominate over you as well.

"The New Republic seeks peace, cooperation, without subjugation. Five years ago when the Yuuzhan Vong entered this galaxy, there was one who told me, they were looking for a new home." Perhaps their methods left something to be desired, but that had all gone so wrong, so fast, there hadn't really been a chance for real negotiations. "We'd rather help, than fight--but we'll keep fighting, if we have to."

She didn't know if Leia had found the Beacon again, or if it worked, but, just in case: "And if there's anyone else outside of Coruscant who can hear me...we are fighting for the survival of this galaxy, for every one of you out there. And we need help."

It might be pointless, she might only be talking to the battlefield, but she'd wanted to try.

The skies of Coruscant seemed to be acquiring hair-line fractures...

But there was a glint of growing light in the distance.

The Beacon; it was activated.

Isolder didn't know how, when, or why. Let alone who.

But he knew, because he'd set the comlink to broadcast, loudly so, that there was a chance that her words were reaching the galaxy.

A chance.

He coughed.

In the distance, he was sure he saw some people stopping.

He was sure he heard weapons clattering to the ground.

He was sure.

"Go on," he whispered, his voice just about carrying to Feyna.

Feyna pursed her lips, but brought the comlink up once more. "There has never been a more important fight than the one we're fighting now. Whichever side prevails, the galaxy will not be the same after. Do you want to see a return to tyrrany and rule by fear? Or will you help us fight back the darkness one more time, to usher in a new era of peace?

"If you can hear me, and if you want to fight--join us at Coruscant, and fight for your future."

She switched off the comm, not knowing what else to add. There were only so many ways she could say come fight for us, we need help.

Feyna turned back to Isolder, reaching for his hand, squeezing it. I hope that worked.

Isolder was smiling as his eyes closed, his grip slackening.

There was something in the air, a weariness, a sense of expectation, an acceptance that winning was no longer an option. People dying because they could, giving up because they should; surrendering because they must.

That the war had gone as far as it could.

Feyna could feel it; in the Force; via the Darkness within her, alive but weakened severely.

It was coming to an end.

Isolder’s face was paling.

His breath was stalling.

There was a hand on hers, on theirs; translucent - a spirit.

A face looked at her.

It was Arek.

He smiled at her.

She'd pulled up a large piece of debris to shelter them while she stayed by her husband, knowing he was fading; she'd already accepted that even if they could have gotten him to a medic, it probably wouldn't have helped him--they didn't know what that creature was or what kind of damage it had done.

Part of her didn't want to accept it, of course; Isolder was her husband, her children's father, her partner in everything for the past three decades, about. Who'd had faith in her even when her own confidence had been lacking.

Around them, there was a growing sense of defeat, and Feyna could feel others dying as well, the Darkness in her stirring, though it did little else. It seemed it could no longer speak, but at least that meant it couldn't taunt her.

Isolder's hand was slack in hers, and his face was growing pale; Feyna reached with her other hand to brush across his forehead, letting him know she was still here, she wasn't leaving him.

As she did, she became aware of another touch, another presence with them, and a spectral figure materialized beside them.

Arek?

How was he here? Why was he here--and why was he smiling? Looking for all the world like he knew something she didn’t.

Maybe he did.

"Arek...?" It came out barely a whisper--if Isolder could still hear her, she didn't want the last thing he heard from her to be another man's name.

“It’s okay,” Arek Graul said, softly. “You kept my memory alive, and here, and now, when the Force is on the edge, I wanted to make sure you didn’t lose another person.”

“You didn’t deserve that.”

He gestured to Isolder, and he breathed, sharply, suddenly. Arek began to fade, even moreso for being incorporeal. “I’ve transferred what little remains of me, to him. He’ll be weak, but… I just wanted to say thank you. I’ve hung on, riding a ripple on a pond, because you deserve to be happy.”

He lightly kissed her forehead.

It was love, but it was forgiving, unconditional. It was love lost and maudlin, but it was powerful, and it didn’t infringe upon what she and Isolder had at all.

It was just love.

A sound of relief, something between a sigh and a sob, escaped her as Isolder started breathing again. She squeezed his hand again and kissed his cheek. "It's okay, you're going to be okay," she told him.

She looked up to see Arek fading away, a little sad, but so grateful at the same time. "Thank you," she whispered under her breath, before he was gone.

“No,” Arek whispered.

“Thank you.”

And he faded.

Once and for all.

Isolder sat up and held her. “What happened? I lost consciousness -“

He looked around. “Did we win? Is it over?”

There was still fighting; still burning; still the sky was a patchwork of shatter points and glass effects…

Feyna hugged him back tightly, though her relief was quickly sobered when he asked if they'd won.

The sky was worrisome, and she'd heard people dropping weapons earlier, as if to surrender, but she wasn't sure if it was from their side or the other. "Not yet..."

TAG: @Sinrebirth Everyone, everywhere

 

OOC: The following is an emotionally-charged combo with @Lady Belligerent and @Sinrebirth – thank you so much!!

===========

IC: Sybelle, Aryan Graul (One Timeline), Caedus, Han Solo
The Battle, Coruscant

Sybelle urged the man to keep moving, and she continued to soothe him as they made any progress. She wouldn’t let go of him,

"Do you… know them?" Aryan had asked her.

"I recognize a couple, but I don’t know any of them personally." Again, she put her arm around his waist and pulled him to her side.

"What about… me?"

She’d been reeling since he’d touched her face, and called her Bell. Her fingers tingled as she gripped his waist… it wasn’t enough, she wanted to hold him closer.

"My name is Aryan Graul. I have dementia. I live in the Cottage Nursing Home—"

Sybelle stumbled, Aryan?

She did know him.

Once she felt like she could speak, Sybelle touched his face with her free hand and looked into his eyes. "Yes, Aryan Graul, we know each other."

There was so much more to say, but would they have the time to say it all? Then someone interrupted…

Call me Caedus.

A chuckle.

It’ll make things simpler for us all.

"Damnit!" Sybelle cursed, "are you hearing that voice too?" She asked Aryan, "I generally don’t hear voices in my head, except my own. Gah!" She didn’t know who Caedus was, but he could leave her the hell alone.

When the voice returned, Aryan shook and recoiled from her touch. The modulated tone permeated his senses and drowned out his thoughts, eroding his ability to reason. Any reaction he would've had to Sybelle's revelation about their past associations instantly disappeared. Instead, he staggered forward and clutched his head in agony… almost as if he could physically suppress the voice’s influence.

"Caedus-s-s—" he growled through clenched teeth, his eyes growing wide as a hint of memory flitted across his awareness. It did not belong to him; it was someone else’s—or was it? It was hard to differentiate between the two under the circumstances. There was so much chaos. Nevertheless, he felt keen to interpret.

"I see… augh—S-Solo… dead Solo… killed by his son—Caedus?" Aryan trailed off into a muted gasp as he released the grip on his head. Collapsing to his knees, he then extended his left hand to point toward the horizon… where Han Solo loomed.

The Corellian’s expression was tight as the wind whipped gently at his tousled hair. One hand gripped his modified DL-44 blaster while his hazel eyes stared intently ahead at the strange scene. He had heard the voice, of course. While he wouldn’t openly admit to such an occurrence—in his line of work, he couldn't come across as crazy... at least not more than what his clients would consider reasonable—it had shaken him to the core. He had no context for who Caedus was, but he knew it was trouble.

The crazy old man and his Chiss companion only confirmed his suspicions.

Wagging the business end of the blaster in their direction, Han scowled. "What did he say?" he rumbled as he took a cautious step forward. "My… what? My son?"

A soft scoff issued from his lips. He wasn’t inclined to believe an obviously disturbed version of Aryan Graul… and yet, he felt compelled to explore all possibilities. It was an innate feeling that he could not ignore.

'Alright, you got my attention,' he conveyed to the mysterious entity, feeling incredibly stupid for even humoring this idea. He was talking to a voice in his head! 'Is it true?'

The shadow seemed to acquire shape and it loomed over them each.

Jacen Solo killed his aunt. Ben Solo killed his father.

It tilted.

Ben Skywalker, here, may very well kill you all.

And turned back.

I wonder if I can travel a bloodline and take an adopted son?

A chuckle.

His 'face' drifted from Han to Aryan.

Skelm... you feel... small.

And Sybelle.

Braata... you were near, I sensed you. It's why I came. To bring you to the forefront…

Sybelle straightened her posture and glared, "go away," she snapped, "go bother those with weapons. We are both unarmed and have no interest in this war." She was keeping her cool and speaking matter of fact, it was important to not upset Aryan any more than he already was.

"We don’t know who you’re talking about, so we’ll be off while you look for them," she said firmly.

"Come along, Aryan," Sybelle urged him, "we need to get you to safety." She touched his face, with her free hand, and tried to turn his face to look at her. "Think, darling, I know you started to remember me." She just needed to trigger his memory, "remember how we held each other under the stars?" Her voice was soft and soothing, "we dreamed of flying away through them together," she hoped her message would get through the chaos inside Aryan’s mind.

Han narrowed his eyes, a slight sneer evident on his lips as he studied the Chiss woman and her stead. He never imagined that this would happen, but he had just met someone who knew less about the situation than he did. Not that he blamed her; he wasn’t too keen on all of this mumbo-jumbo Force nonsense either.

A voice speaking inside his head?

A shapeless entity threatening him and his family?

It was all ridiculous… and yet, here he was in the thick of it. Despite his reluctance to believe, Han felt that it was his duty to foil its plans. That also included defending this hapless woman and the handicapped Aryan Graul—even if the man was a menace; they were all in this together at this point. Maybe he could cause a distraction. That would allow them to seek shelter while he got close enough to confront Ben.

Shuffling back a few paces, Han lifted his hand and waved the blaster at the Darkness to draw its attention. "Hey!" he shouted over the cacophonous sounds of the battle. "You heard the lady; she said to leave them alone! You want to sample my bloodline and challenge Vader? Let’s go take care of business! I have nothing better to do..."

Aryan remained oblivious to Han’s heroic deed, even as the Corellian scampered off to cover their escape. All he could see was the looming Darkness within his mind’s eye, taunting him about something… or someone, known as Skelm. It was like an after-image from a holocam flashbulb; he couldn’t shake it from his awareness. In his distress, he fell forward into a fetal position and began to shudder…

And then the Chiss woman intervened.

He was soothed by the touch of a gentle hand on his cheek, guiding his chin upward so he could gaze into her eyes. They were so familiar, so caring… who was she again?

Sy…

Bell…

Sybelle?

Yes, that was it; he remembered her.

He could see a vast landscape of trees and rolling hills stretched out beneath the stars; a warm, summer breeze caressed his bare flesh as he held her tight; he glimpsed the silvery moonlight through an assortment of exotic plants, adding to the intimacy of the private garden.

A hoarse laugh, bordering on hysterical, elicited from his throat as he reached up to touch her face. "Sybelle… you haven’t aged a day."

Breathing heavily, Aryan then gripped her shoulders and used them as leverage to stagger to his feet, his blue-gray eyes never wavering from her face. "It was… forbidden," he finally conveyed in a lucid tone. "They would’ve never allowed us to stay together." A rueful smile touched his haggard features. "We should’ve defied them… and remained behind."

The Darkness known only as Caedus sniggered at Han.

Oh, you amuse me so.

His 'eyes' swiveled to Vader.

Sybelle and Aryan? Well, they had even less to wonder about.

But there was something... a penumbra that Sybelle and Aryan were crossing. They weren't Twilight Variants of each other, no, they were connected in other ways. A flash between them, and most of what they had experienced - as Tera, as Sev'rance, as Sybelle, as Bellorum, and as Joren, Aryan's, Arek's - it filled them up.

Sybelle, perhaps, she would absorb it a bit more fully than Aryan, who would feel his psyche break.

Again.

The Darkness spoke out of one side of its shadowy mouth.

It seems as if I can't reach across. How... bothersome.

Adopted bonds don't count.

I suppose I should simply follow your bloodline to another Ben.

An inclined head, as a tangle of tentacles ensnared Lumpawaroo and Xaverri.

I found purchase in Jacen; my new name.

Would you trade their lives for your body?

When Twilight is over; what next?

A glower.

I'd like to know.

Sybelle fought to keep her hold on Aryan, she had a gut feeling that she had to be willing to sacrifice her own life if it meant saving him.

It was almost as if a spark had ignited into a fiery flash that was gone as fast as it had occurred. The brilliance left Sybelle temporarily blinded, which meant she had to, grudgingly, use the Force to sharpen her awareness of who and what was near them.

The flood of memories was even more unexpected, some ancestors she knew…others were strangers. Tera, Sev'rance…before they meant nothing, but now they had faces and histories. The threads all connected, but she didn’t fully understand why this was happening.

Sybelle realized that these changes would possibly be far more stressful for Aryan than it was for her; it was important to act quickly if there was any chance of saving his already battered mind.

"Aryan," she kept her voice calm in spite of her own rising panic, "look at me. I need you to listen and cooperate… to trust me."

She smiled, even though tears were welling up in her eyes, "you’re right. We should have defied them, I’ve never stopped loving you, and I never will." Without words, she was offering solace through a bond she found. It felt old but oddly solid.

"I’m going to try and help you, please let me do that," she leaned her forehead against him as she held him close. Let me in, I want to make this better for you.

In her mind she could see scarring from years of dementia, some wounds were traumatic and buried too deep. She cursed her lack of the talent and experience for healing this type of intricate damage. Her heart ached for the proud and kind young man who had captured her heart and kept it in another time and place. There were some superficial areas that she tentatively sought to soothe and repair.

Because her skills weren’t honed, she found herself stumbling over memories that she would have otherwise avoided. Sybelle respected Aryan Graul far too much to invade his most private thoughts and experiences.

Her actions could be futile, but it was better to try instead of giving up. It occurred to her that Bellorum didn’t give up. She played a long game for the future and was determined to live her life fully, unlike her mother, Sybelle’s daughter.

Sev’rance was just as stubborn and lived with a relentless passion for power. She could have healed Aryan’s injuries… Bellorum would have tried too.

Focus, old girl, she told herself and silently called on her own mothers and daughters of the past to lend her their strength and knowledge. Help me give this man some peace, we need to ease his torment.

The information inundated his mind, probing deep into all facets of his awareness until every memory, thought, and image coalesced into a blur of confusion. It manifested as a white expanse that stretched across his vision… and then it blossomed into a brilliant explosion, like a supernova reaching critical mass.

That’s when his anguish began. It unleashed a wave of intense pain, crippling him… breaking him…

Aryan collapsed in a feverish stupor, his voice carrying his agony as he clutched his head in a vain attempt to alleviate his suffering. If only oblivion would overtake him; if only he could find a release…

And then a single spark ignited within his mind’s eye. It started small, percolating in the endless void, then grew and spread warmth throughout his entire body. Aryan shuddered in response, noting the profound effect the phenomenon had on his system. The mental haze began to clear as things became more distinct… more lucid. He felt himself regaining control, and that’s when he heard the voice.

It was a woman’s voice; a familiar voice.

Suddenly, a face emerged from somewhere in his memory. She had dark hair and delicate features, but her scarlet eyes most clearly defined her. They glowed softly in the pale light, contrasting with the blue hue of her skin. From this perspective, it was difficult to tell whether she was merely an illusion or if she was truly peering down at him from above. Either way, Aryan extended his hand to reach for her.

"Sybelle," he whispered faintly, a small smile parting his lips. He then gently caressed her cheek when his fingers found purchase on her flesh. "I see you."

Even as Aryan regained some modicum of control, Han continued his ongoing struggle against the Darkness.

While the Corellian had managed to lead the entity away from the more vulnerable members of their group, he had inadvertently called attention to Lumpy and Xav. They were arguably the only family he had left, and as that revelation settled in the pit of his stomach, he couldn’t help but utter a colorful string of curses.

You damned fool; this is what happens when you stick out your neck!

Nonetheless, Han did not waver, even as he skidded to a halt and witnessed his companions’ unfortunate dilemma. Caedus had encased them both in a writhing mass of tentacles, and it wasn’t long before the creature came forth to bargain for their release. It desired Han’s body… his soul, in exchange for Lumpy and Xav’s safety.

Of course, his natural instinct was to raise his blaster and take a stand; he wasn’t about to go down without a fight, no matter how presumptuous his actions were. "Let ‘em go!"

But he also knew the odds weren’t on his side. Negotiating with a blaster typically worked on those who lacked the brain cells to properly counter the offer, but that wasn’t the case in this situation. His opponent was some kind of celestial being, and he knew that he didn’t stand a chance against such a foe. He had to get creative, perhaps find a way to outsmart it. It was possible, and yet…

Exhaling heavily, he shifted his gaze to regard his friends. Could he make the sacrifice to ensure they lived? It was a difficult decision, but he recognized that he had no other choice. He had a connection to Caedus, and that afforded him some leverage. No one else was capable of carrying out the deed. He had to do this for the greater good… for Xav, Lumpy, and all the others who still had a stake in this fight.

"Alright, I’ll do it," Han said firmly, his eyes reflecting his conviction. He then diverted the aim of his blaster and lifted both hands in the air to show that he meant no harm. "Under one condition," he raised his brow and flashed a lopsided grin, "you need to remove Darth Vader from the equation. Take him down. He's not part of my bloodline, anyway, so he's no use to you... right?"

Fiiiiiine, Caedus said, drily.

A shadowed hand held for Han.

You can use my power against the Pretender of the Sith.

He tilted his head slightly.

But you won't have long. The Force here; it cracks upon the weight of all this Death.

He sounded like, had he lips, he would have exalted and licked them.

Aryan’s touch strengthened and sealed their bond that had been dormant for so, so long. Sybelle ached over how dementia had affected such a strong man, and his words of recognition only spurred her to fight harder to help him make sense of things. She wanted to help heal his mind, his memories… he could find comfort in those. Just as she had found comfort in them, of the nights they lay together sharing their hopes and dreams.

Memories…

Aryan’s children were there, but one was missing. "No… she promised me." Sybelle couldn’t hold back a sob or the tears that followed.

Her own memory of that time was strong. There was Sybelle standing in the doorway, where she’d finally tracked Aryan down to, their infant daughter was swaddled in her arms. The woman who answered wasn’t happy to see Sybelle there, and she demanded to know what she wanted. Once Sybelle explained that she and Aryan had been separated, but they were to be married, the woman insisted she leave and never return. She said she was to be Mrs. Graul and that Sybelle, and her bastard, would only ruin his career, his life…

They had made a deal. The woman was to tell Aryan that Sybelle had been there with his child, and in return, Sybelle would stay away until he came to her. Airabella had woken and was distressed by Sybelle’s emotions and began to cry, the woman shouted at her to never return.

"I stayed away because I would never ruin your life. Oh, Aryan, we both missed out on so much."

Sybelle was hurt and angry. She needed the truth. The woman had promised, and Sybelle trusted her and kept her end of the bargain. She never tried to reach him again, instead, Sybelle never gave up hoping that Aryan would contact her.

She cradled his face in her hands, "we had a daughter, she was so lovely." It was important not to overwhelm Aryan any more than he already was. Still, he had to know.

"She had a daughter, our granddaughter. You would have been such a wonderful father and grandfather, my love."

Sybelle never stopped holding out hope, she ached for Aryan to come to her when Airabella died so young.

"She’s still with me," Sybelle pulled in a chain that was secured around her neck and caught the pendant that had been hidden beneath her blouse. "I have her ashes here," she held the tiny glass pendant so he could see it.



Aryan squirmed in her arms as he grappled with the revelation she had impressed upon him. A child; a daughter. An innocent life lost to the ravages of a cruel and unfair galaxy. A heavy sadness settled within his chest, and despite his best efforts, a mournful wail escaped his lips. There was no self-control. His mind roiled with the details of such a tragic tale.

Sybelle had died.

Wasn’t that the narrative? It wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t known; he couldn’t have known!

But there was more; there was always more. She had mentioned a granddaughter. Another life he had missed… or had he? Bellorum, not Sybelle. The former had visited him on occasion, long ago on the estate. Wasn’t she the granddaughter? Wasn’t she the one who had brought him solace?

Thoughts and memories began to blur together. It was far too much for him to assimilate under the circumstances.

As a result, Aryan quickly regressed and exhibited a more childlike simplicity, openly weeping as he glanced up and sought Sybelle’s face. His trembling fingers traced along her jawline before sliding down to grasp the pendant around her neck. He clenched it tight in his fist and refused to let go. It was imperative that he hold her… and feel her.

"S-Sorry… I’m so… sorry," he finally stammered between sobs.

Caedus watched the little aside with some amusement as he swirled up to Han.

The skies of Coruscant seemed to be acquiring hairline fractures...

Our deal is thus; Vader dies; you leave with me.

He tilted his head to Sybelle and Aryan.

I'll come find you one day.

His malevolence pressed upon them, hard, and he chuckled. It would be particularly damaging to the jagged mind of Aryan; purposely so.

The shard pierced deep into Aryan’s consciousness, and he unleashed a blood-curdling scream that rose above the din of the battlefield. Once more, he clutched his head in misery as his body became a writhing mass upon the ground.

Lumpawaroo, the son of the late Chewbacca? Xaverri? The woman Han had loved? They were enmeshed with violence, and they would not know the sacrifice Han would make.

A short distance away, the Corellian sneered through clenched teeth, bracing himself as Caedus willfully extended his influence to cripple them. It was as if someone had trapped his chest in a vice; it became increasingly more difficult to breathe as it continued to tighten its hold. He knew it was an intimidating tactic, but he would not be so easily swayed. Too much was at stake.

To emphasize this point, Han squinted and glanced up at the splintering sky. That wasn’t good… that wasn’t good at all. If he intended to stop Ben—no, he was no longer Ben; there was only Vader—he had to act now. The galaxy could thank him later.

And what about Xav and Lumpy?

Well, they would have to understand. This was his duty. If all went well, maybe he would see them again…

Han’s gaze lingered on Xaverri as the wind continued to swirl about him. When they ultimately made eye contact, he managed a small lopsided grin for encouragement. One little gesture seemed to convey so much; he would be back, everything would be alright, and she wasn’t to worry. That was enough for him.

Only then did he return his attention to the looming Darkness. "It looks like you have yourself a deal," he drawled in a low baritone, extending his hand to accept Caedus’ spectral limb. "Let’s get this over with before I change my mind."

Sybelle felt the impressions of darkness, and while she wasn’t prepared to cope, it was the sound of Aryan’s screams that empowered her to push back.

"Leave us be!" She insisted along with her mental push to try and repel the attack. "Torment me if you must, but leave this man alone," she cradled Aryan to her as much as he would allow through his terror, "only a coward would torture someone already mentally broken!" Her shouts at Caedus were likely in vain, but it made her feel better to shout.

"My love," she smoothed Aryan’s hair back and kissed the top of his head, "I wish we could go back and do things differently." Sybelle wasn’t sure if Aryan recognized what she was saying now, and it broke her heart… again.

"I can be at peace with the knowledge that the bitter woman didn’t tell you. She was afraid your love for me would be stronger." Sybelle had a lifetime of thoughts to share with Aryan, but she had noticed the sky about them. She thought it looked like an egg covered in hairline fractures, one that, at any moment, would shatter into pieces.

"Listen," she desperately wanted Aryan to hear her, "please let my words get through to you." Through tears, the words poured out, details about Airabella, about their granddaughter, and how she’d never really given up hope of seeing him again.

There wouldn’t be enough time. Even if she wasn’t staring at the ominous skies above them, their life together had been cruelly taken away from them.

"Airabella knew all about you," Sybelle kept talking. If they were going to die, then her voice would be the last he heard, and she would be holding him as closely as he would allow. "Bellorum was different from her mother, I couldn’t tell her the truth because she would have pounded on your door demanding to meet you." Sybelle laughed remembering how stubborn their granddaughter could be.

"I always waited for you, and then one night I… I just couldn’t keep breathing. Bell was a young woman, and she was damned clever." Sybelle had raised her to be resourceful, she smiled as she relived the memories for herself as much as Aryan. "She didn’t need me any longer," Sybelle continued, "so I just laid down and stopped breathing. My heart ached for us, Aryan, and I thought that I’d find peace in the afterlife… that I’d find you."

TAG: @Lady Belligerent; @Sinrebirth; others on Coruscant

 

(Combo Post between me and @Sinrebirth )

Tor
Coruscant

The beast let out a roar causing Tor to drop to her knee clutching her head. They made the god bleed, now he was angry. That was good, they were more than a nuisance, they where hitting back. Rising to her feet again she pointed her blade at him.

"Now you see, you're not all powerful." She let off a few bolts from her blaster while her mandalorian retinue continued to lay fire into him. "Never thought a group of angry mandalorians would make you bleed huh?"

Vader turned a face towards her.



"Ooh, I'm so Shlabbing scared." Tor fired back getting to her feet. She wasn't going to be afraid, what was there to be afraid of, it was the end of the world. She ran forward firing off a few bolts from her pistol, the darksaber held in a defensive position. The other mandalorians kept up their fire, undaunted by the rumbling fear and hate. They had come back from the dead what was left to fear? They'd made the god bleed, if it could bleed it could be killed.

Vader lifted his blade and the ground lifted up around him, blocking fire -

Apart from a corridor that lay between Tor and him.

He launched forward, holed cloak flowing, sparks launching from his armour, and he swung a powerful-cybernetically enhanced attack, using the Force solely to speed him up!

She held her blade up just getting her darksaber there in time. She wasn't the best duelist but, she was trained by her Aunt and her Sister. That training would have to be enough against an enraged and injured sith lord. Her arm nearly buckled, because her knee certainly did. On one knee she brought up her pistol firing more bolts into his chest. Behind him the formerly dead Mandalorians starting to scale or out right jetpack their way over the rocks...but they wouldn't be in position right away...Tor was on her own.

The moment Vader sensed the Mandalorians move he exploded upwards his impromptu defence, sending those clinging tumbling, battering those in the sky away. At least one jetpack detonated -

Pain.

His chest was in pain.

His chin dipped as he saw the holes in his chest, and Vader roared into his agony, ripping his blade up in a swing that battered aside the Darksaber - and half Tor’s hand -

She grit her teeth holding her left hand close to her chest. It hurt but, she couldn't let it distract her. Rolling she dodged out of the way of the next attack. A few more shots were batted away, leaving her with very few options. Ducking down she avoided a wide sweep of the dangerous red blade sliding the blaster into it's holster she took up the darksaber in her still working hand.

"Come on you monster."

Vader loomed, his armour smoking, his mechanical breath wheezing. “Enough.”

He held up a hand and took her throat.

There was a glance of light off to the side; the Beacon. Vader still had Tor in his grip, but he paid no heed to anyone but the Beacon and Tor for that brief moment -

"Frack" Tor said out of her constricted throat she should have just charged forth facing him head on, but no she had to challenge him, like a duel of old. Now she was paying for it. Deactivating her saber she patted around her belt for something to use. There might be something but her breath was running out.

Meanwhile behind the scene Ka'rta finally scaled the mound of earth Vader had protected himself with. At the top her eyes widened. Without stopping to think she drew a bead on the dark armored monster and pulled the trigger.

The bolt pierced his armour and buried deep. Vader unleashed an almighty roar of pain, of indignation, of almost despair, and swung around his lightsaber, at neck height, and released Tor -

And then he toppled down, towards the ground, landing at Tor's feet.

He was looking at the sky, his helmet rolling off and revealing a young man.

His eyes looked up; widened.

The skies of Coruscant seemed to be acquiring hair-line fractures...

Then his eyes sought Tor.

His blade hit only air, Ka'rta firing from up on the rock, well away from his saber. Tor gave no quarter she would not do that again. She rushed in quickly slashing down on his hand looking to disarm the monster before going for the final stroke. The sky might be falling, the world might be ending but she would not take her eyes off this target not of a moment.

TAG: Coruscant Group

 

IC: Supreme Leader Vezrra Anor
Speeches for the damned and the nameless

The day dragged on, it was an uncomfortable day. The weather did not feel exactly as it should. Perhaps it was from her dealing with the biological horror she had unleashed upon this world by syphoning the life force out of the growing black tide to safe guard this city, a world that if not for her peoples unified desire for the war to end in a draw, and the resulting overload of soul energy without true memory. This had led to her having a massive bloating of the glowing blue blisters upon her back and breasts. Meaning before today she had stayed in seclusion focusing on digesting what she had gathered to decrease the swelling and in turn had left her feeling disturbingly young and itching to and for some form of active release.

Granted the pregnancy hormones were not helping anything either. Not with having to listen to the egregious litany of the dead and the living. Still she bided her time and took the stage at her earliest opportunity.

Looking out upon the array of technology and villips that had been set up to transmit and share this event she centered herself one last time. "We came to carve out a new home for ourselves and to do the will of the Yuun. We came and we were betrayed."

She bowed her head, giving a moment for that news to sink in. For some it likely was still news, for others an old story. "The position that was set aside to connect our people to the Yuun was corrupted and perverted by the one whose name is now a curse - Onimi!" She spat the name through shredded lips. "He controlled and perverted it to his own gains, arranged to give it Palpatine, arranged and dominated our invasion and our relations to the peoples of this galaxy out of his own delusions for supremacy that he could never earn honestly from the Yuun!"

Adjusting her gaze to soften her purple sacks beneath her eyes deepened their shading as her tone softened. "We went from servants of the Yuun and a match for an entire galaxy to a hand full of worlds barely filled by our massacred members. This was the invasion of deception that has given birth to the blood worlds. Bought with our blood, a salvation and new cradles and creche's of our futures, earned by the ending of Onimi, of Palpatine, of Vader and so we pray the ending of the Black Coat of many names and faces." Here she reached out a hand to steady herself upon the podium.

"We now shall build our purchased worlds that our damned and condemned have won us. We rebuild our people and culture with what we have left and with what the Yuun have given us. Having learned the damning and the doomed with technology should be pitied, but are not all without honor and are not all without faith or purpose beyond the Yuun's vision. For as Yun-Yammka and Yun-Harla and even Yun-Yuuzhan find them worthy of use in their present state so shall we respect them and grow our homes near although with respectful distance for their status and class." Reaching down she put a hand to her belly and the new life she had growing within. "We are birthing a new age for our people and for all people of this galaxy. Let us honor the sacrifices made to bring us this far, and the labor that see us into the future! Let us never forget our scars and what they stand for!"

May all their words seek to bring peace to the galaxy, a galaxy needing said peace to rebuild and for old wounds to scar properly.

TAG: @JediMasterAnne, @HanSolo29, @TheSilentInfluence, @Sinrebirth , @darthbernael, @TheAdmiral, @CosmoHender, @Lady Belligerent, @Adalia-Durron, @darthhelinith (finale singles)

 

OOC: Combo with @Sinrebirth

IC: Barriss Offee

Nadiem, Decades Ago

As the transport touched down in the city, Barriss wondered why Vima-Da-Boda and her daughter Nomi had sent her here of all places. She had been to Nadiem before, of course. During the first year of the Clone Wars.

The Clone Wars. It wasn't hard to see that the planet was still recovering from the conflict. And so was Barriss. It had broken her, even made her cut herself off from the Force.

She was no longer a Jedi. She was no longer even Barriss Offee, who as far as the rest of the galaxy was concerned had died from Order 66 on Felucia. Currently she was using the alias Yassu Sale as she tried to figure out who she was if she wasn't a Jedi.

That had taken her to Bonadon and now to Nadiem, where she was flooded with memories from when she and her master had defended the locals from the Separatists. Had that only been three years ago?

Barriss sighed as she made her way through the city, keeping her hood up. Truthfully, she still wasn't sure if this was a good idea or not. But she trusted that she had been told to go here for a reason. Perhaps one of the farms was looking for extra help.

Nadiem hadn't changed much since the Clone Wars.

If anything, the scars had long vanished, and that was that.

The wars thereafter - the Dark Times, the Galactic Cold War, there was little to come to this world for.

Indeed, compared to many of the worlds Barriss had visited since Order 66, and since Mas Amedda became Emperor after the death of Palpatine at the hands of Masters Windu and Skywalker, the world was the quietest and calmest that Barriss would have found since before the Clone Wars themselves. Even more so than Bonadan, which was more ethereal than peaceful.

This surprised Barriss and she wondered if she could heal as well as this planet had.

But she doubted that her scars would vanish just as easily.

Still, she found the peace of Nadiem welcoming. The quiet and calm might be just what she needed, an escape from the chaos and the hurt that she was running from.

The locals were pleasant enough as well from what she could remember. Honestly, it was nice to see Nadiem in a different context from her last visit. This was Nadiem as it truly was, not Nadiem during an enemy invasion.

She could like it here.

There was a rumble in the Force, because she was being looked at as she wandered the town.

A woman, looking fairly quizzical through the market.

Barriss wasn't sure if she should do anything, since she didn't want to draw attention to herself. These were dangerous times, after all. It was best that she kept a low profile.

The woman realized she'd been noticed, but rather than respond in the typical guarded I'm spying on you way that Barriss would have experienced a hundred times by now, no, the woman blushed and turned away.

This certainly surprised Barriss, who wasn't used to this type of reaction.

Despite her better judgement, Barriss walked up to the woman.

"Uh, hello," she greeted. "I'm new around here, so I apologize if I look... out of place."

She grew even redder. "Um, I didn't mean to stare, I, just, um -"

Get together, Zara, she audibly thought.

Barriss chuckled a bit. She realized that this woman posed no threat to her.

"It's no problem," she reassured her. "Maybe you could help me out? I'm looking for work."

"Work? Here, on Nadiem?" Zara looked a bit surprised at that. "What's your... um... vocation?"

Well done finding the right word, she thought to herself drily.

"Farmwork," Barriss answered. "I'm something of a Clone Wars refugee looking for a fresh start in the Outer Rim."

Which technically wasn't a lie.

A wince. "The Clone Wars came here for a time. General Grievous himself, and a bunch of Jedi. The only time the galaxy notices us, and it sends us that."

Barriss looked down. "I heard about that and I'm sorry for what your people must have gone through. The Clone Wars hit my people hard as well. I... I lost my family right before it ended."

"Oh bless you," she said, her genuine pain flooding the Force. "It's been an awful war. And now the Empire, and the Chancellor revealed to be a Sith, well, I'm not happy that the Separatist Alliance isn't gone, but I'm happy that the Republic survived." She was describing the tripartite split of the galaxy following Palpatine's death and Amedda's part-successful Order 66. The HoloNet news reported it all; how Masters Windu and Skywalker had returned to the Jedi Temple and fended off the 501st, aided by clones who had fought against Order 66, and Republic Senators as they fled to warn their homeworlds.

Now there was a Galactic Cold War, with a chunk of the galaxy, including Nadiem, not claimed by any of the three. Most were happy that Grievous was dead, and that Palpatine and Dooku were both gone, ending the Sith once and for all (in theory), but Chancellor Amidala had warned of hard days ahead from the world of Naboo.

"Nadiem heals all wounds, they say."

Barriss nodded. "That is what I'm hoping, at least," she told the woman before realizing something. "I, uh, didn't get your name."

"Zara," she said, smiling. "What about you?" She held out her hand, to shake, somewhat awkwardly.

Well I couldn't hug her, could I?

Barriss shook the woman's hand. "Yassu," she introduced, using her fake alias.

"Nice to meet you," Zara said, a bit amused.

Doesn't look like a Yassu, but sure.

There was a curious bond there, formed fairly early on in meeting.

"Where are you staying? I can walk you there, if you need directions."

"I'm, uh, not staying anywhere," Barriss admitted. "I have yet to find a place."

"Ah," Zara managed to say. "Well, let me show you the hotel district?"

Keep it together.

"And I can show you where to get a drink?"

Barriss smiled a little. "I think I would like that."

During her time as a Jedi, she didn't drink. But she was not a Jedi anymore, which meant that if Barriss wanted to she was now free to explore the vices that had once been forbidden to her...

Zara blushed a little. "Good, me too."

You're hopeless.

Swallowing to settle herself, she stepped onwards, explaining where things were, the particular setup of the port, and so forth.

The bar was near a hotel, possibly owned by the same resort, but Zara stood at the edge, not taking the leap to suggest they would get a drink together. "So there you have it."

The bouncer, a swarthy Klatoonian, regarded them both with some bemusement.

Barriss looked the establishment over before turning back toward Zara. "Well, are you coming?" she asked.

"I mean," she stuttered. "Sure? But why?"

"Why not?" Barriss asked with a shrug. "Plus while we get drinks, you could answer any questions I might have."

"Oh, okay then," Zara said. She didn't move. "Question, before we go any further."

The bouncer stared at them. Clearly he could hear.

"What is it?" Barriss asked.

"You do get that I'm into you, right?" Zara leapt in.

May as well.

Barriss's eyes widened and her cheeks turned pink.

"Uh... what?" she asked, taken aback.

Zara felt her own cheeks go hot.

Ah, damnit.

"Forget I said anything." She checked a chrono she didn't have. "This was fun, but I kinda need to get on. I have work, yes, work, to get to."

Barriss reached out and took Zara's hand. "No, wait. Don't go." She breathed deeply. "Please..."

Zara hesitated, looked down at Barriss's hand, and didn't pull it away. She squeezed it back. "Okay, if that's what you want." Finally, she smiled.

It was a strange day, but she was determined to make it a good one.

"I had a very... sheltered upbringing," Barriss admitted. "I'm not really used to people being... into me. Not that I wasn't ever into other people, but those feelings were not encouraged and I was not allowed to explore them. However, now I can choose what I want... and I think it's this."

And as Barriss went into the bar with Zara, she thought to herself that maybe... just maybe... this could be the start of something good.

Only time would tell.

"Sheltered?" Zara sounded curious. It wasn't as if same-sex relationships were new; they were as old as time. Zara knew some really, really primitive worlds in the Core and Outer Rim aspired to different peccadillos, and the Empire turned a blind eye as long as there was no disruption... "How sheltered?"

Her smile was almost devious.

Barriss looked down. "I guess you could say it was a... religious thing," she said, not really wanting to talk about it.

Zara took the hint. "We've all something crazy in our backstory," she said, lightly.

"So," she indicated the bar, the hefty Klatoonian still watching them. "Shall we?"

Barriss nodded slightly, smiling a little. "Yes," she answered. "We shall."

And so they did.

-

IC: The Daughter

Mortis, Now

Once she had been Barriss Offee. A former Jedi, a wife, a mother...

Now she was just the Daughter. And as the Daughter she had helped to defeat the Master. She had saved everyone, something that she could have never done when she Barriss.

But she still thought much of the past and of the life she had chosen to give up in, of the people that she had been forced to leave behind. Her wife, her adopted daughter, her son-in-law, her grandchildren...

However, the Daughter knew they would live and that made her sacrifice worth it. They would live even if the Daughter could no longer be with them.

Mortis, her new home, would still take some getting used to. She was to remain here now and the rest of the Ones, who she supposed was her new family, were still strangers to her. And truthfully, they would never be her real family.

The Daughter remembered how she met Zara. How they had fallen in love. How she had lived her life with her. How she had said goodbye. That memory in particular was still fresh... and painful.

It could not be said how many years had passed, or would pass, before Zara made it here.

She for a moment looked old, far older, and at the same time, as young as she had been when they met.

Her form settled to her at the point they had last seen each other, perhaps because of the Daughter's own memory.

For a moment, Zara acclimatized, and, with tears in her eyes, regarded the Daughter. She didn't make any step closer.

"Daughter," she managed, gulping her breath.

The Daughter's eyes widened when she saw Zara. A moment later, her eyes filled with tears. Briefly she wondered if this was some kind of trick or deception, before she realized that her wife was indeed real.

"Zara...?"

"Barriss?" Tears filled her eyes.

"Are you... are you still in there?"

The Daughter nodded slowly. "Yes... Barriss Offee... that's who I was... I am more than that now... I am part of something bigger... but..."

She smiled gently. "A part of me will still always be Barriss Offee, a former Jedi who loved and was loved..."

She quickly corrected herself. "I mean loves and is loved..."

She smiled easily. "I don't think I can criticize your use of tenses in a place that doesn't seem to care for time." Zara regarded her hands. "I haven't looked this good for... a while." Amused, she looked up. "You look radiant, of course... and I don't just mean the ethereal Godly glow."

The Daughter smiled, almost shyly. "Thank you," she said to her wife. "And yes, you look very good... better than good... not that you never looked good to me." She chuckled.

"I should hope not," Zara said, taking a hesitant step forward. "How have you been?"

"In a lot of ways, better than I have ever been," the Daughter admitted. "I feel... almost at peace, especially since I helped the rest of the Ones stop someone who would have erased you... erased everyone." She sighed. "It's lonely, don't get me wrong. But I was comforted by knowing that I had managed to help save you and the others. That my sacrifice wasn't in vain."

"It wasn't, Barriss," Zara said, not touching the Daughter, even though they were closer now. "The war ended the day you did what you did, though I imagine you know that."

"What you, and Leia, and Madelyn, and so many others did - it worked. Nadiem, we rebuilt it, with everyone from the Byss refugee camps. They all came together and we put so much right."

The Daughter reached up and gently touched Zara's cheek, caressing it while tears filled her eyes.

"I know," she said softly. "That's why it was worth it."

She enjoyed the warmth of her hand, placing her own on the Daughter's. "It was." She was crying too. "Your sacrifice made such a difference. Everything... it got better."

The Daughter nodded and pulled Zara into a hug, embracing her tightly. "That's because we finally won."

Zara held her. "We did. You did. The Sith, the Yuuzhan Vong, the Empire - they all cooperated. It was incredible. We'd just had enough of the war. Entirely. Completely."

The Daughter just smiled. "I know. And I never thought that I would see it."

"I did," Zara trembled in her arms, small in comparison, for the Daughter was taller in Godhood than life. "But I didn't see it happening without you."

The Daughter sighed. "I am sorry for leaving you," she apologized.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you from this," Zara said back.

The Daughter shook her head. "There was nothing you could have done, Zara. You had already saved me long ago... I was just returning the favor."

Zara smiled at that. "I like that. We saved each other."

"But you know why I'm here, don't you?"

"Not completely," the Daughter admitted.

"Well," Zara looked apologetic. "I died at the end, so, where else would I go?" She looked offended. "The other place? The bad one? Wow, you have so little faith in me." She grinned.

The Daughter shrugged. "Honestly, I still don't entirely know how this place works," she admitted. "But... I'm glad you are here now."

Zara smiled. "Always good to know that Gods don't know everything."

"I didn't marry again, by the way. I never would have."

The Daughter shook her head. "You could have. I wouldn't have minded. You deserve to be happy too."

"I was happy, and Luminara, and the kids, and their kids, well, they kept me busy." Zara simply closed her eyes.

"I guess, now, more than anything, I just want our happy ending. Even if it's here, in Mortis."

The Daughter just nodded. "I want that too. After everything that happened and we had to go through, I want this story to have a happy ending."

"Well, now I'm here, with you," Zara said, with a sigh. "It is."

And with that the Daughter kissed Zara on the lips as she held her, unable to let go.

TAG: @Sinrebirth

 

OOC: A combo with GM, CosmoHender, TheSilentInfluence and Shadowsun!


IC: The Mother, The Son, and The Daughter
Mortis

The Daughter was quiet, which put the Son ill at ease, though he did not outwardly show it. He was pleased however to see that the Mother initially agreed with what he had to say. He muttered in anger under his breath as the great flash of light blinded him.

The Father was gone.

As was the Master.

That was not good, was he not truly dead then?

He turned to them both.

"I am unsure how much either of you know of the threats beyond the edge of our reality, that of darknesses, and parallel timelines. Of tyrannical god-like beings that shape the fabric and whim of time and reality to suit there own self-indulgent purpose,"

His eyes hovered where the Master had been.

"The Master of Masters was one such being, and what we just fought was but a mere fraction of the true entity. And to think this is the first time any of us have truly seen a glimpse of his power..." he trailed off into the distance.

"What do you know of the Six Darknesses? Of the Epitaph Games? and that of the First Darkness?"

He sifted through his future memories, of an alternate self that no longer was. He had much explaining to do, much they had to figure out. And in a world that was as cruel as this one, he was thankful for this time to actually claw some control over their future.

Madelyn looked at the son, curious. "I'm afraid I don't know what any of that is, but I feel like I should. Are you saying that was one of many different darkness's we will have to face?"

Ah. The Mother's question informed The Son all he needed to know in order to explain. From the beginning. That was not an issue, it would ensure there were no hiccups or misunderstandings. He did cast half an eyebrow in the direction of the Daughter who remained quiet... so utterly silent, had they nothing to say?

"No," he began, his tone calm, patient. Hovering a rock over for him to sit, and gesturing to a couple of others that he hovered to them both. "This may take some time,"

"The being we just fought was not a darkness, I see how my words lead you to that conclusion," he paused for a moment, raising his hand to the side of his head. "Honestly I do not know exactly what the Master of Masters is... a god, a former One, a being of some reality beyond the Star Wars, a mere man... it makes little difference to us now. Whatever his back story he is a being of extraordinary power. Though for whatever reason he seldomly uses it, favoring to manipulate and scheme to bend the shapes of timelines to his purpose... that is how our own timeline began. Anakin Skywalker was supposed to kill the Sith Sheev Palpatine some fifty-odd years ago. In the 'correct' timeline Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader, the Jedi were massacred and the galaxy plunged into the iron grip of the Galactic Empire until liberated sometime later,"

He paused for a moment. That was no doubt already a lot to take in, but was barely the context for what was needed to be communicated.

"This is all to say our timeline, the entire reality that we have lived for our entire life is a spilled reality. The Force forms a timeline and branches on that timeline but it is also a fixed endpoint, manufactured by the Master of Masters. He did this so he could undermine the Ones, the Ones of a former, alternate reality, not us. Palpatine was a means to accomplish this, but he realized The Master's plan and caused our spilt, our reality into being.... and so the Master of Masters took it upon himself to end our timeline, to embroil the galaxy with his machinations so the galaxy would rip itself apart."

"I was manipulated by him to bring the Killiks to Coruscant, he was the hidden master of this realities' Darth Vader, he moved the pieces of this reality to its destruction, but when the former Father, Anakin Skywalker, moved to protect this reality putting us in place as the new Ones the Master was left with no choice but to move against us..."

He looked to the spot where the Master of Masters had been. "If we had lost this battle, the trillions that lived in this galaxy, we would have all died..."

"Though all of this, all his plans. Destroying our Timeline, killing the Ones, fixing the entire timeline to a fixed point, all of that was just a means to an end... to defeat the Master's true foe. The First Darkness,"

He gave a pause, looking at them both. He had skipped over some of the unimportant details, and had more to explain, but waited for the numerous natural questions to propagate.

There was a tug upon them.

Something here... was knowledgeable.

A mechanism, perhaps more.

If they followed it, they'd find a throne, and a holocron.





The Son walked slowly to the throne and Holocron, he did not know the significance of them... unless... could that be one of them? He continued to speak as he moved.

"The First Darkness was a creation of the Maker, for what end I am unsure but it seeks to consume all times and all realities in pure, utter darkness which even I supposed agent of the Dark do not want to come to pass. I prefer living,"

His hands hovered over the Holocron trying to see if his theory was right.

"The Master of Masters seeks to end that threat once and for all, which in and of itself is a noble goal, he will however do anything and everything to eliminate that threat, including sacrificing trillions, including killing us. There are also shards of this darkness. Six to be precise, these shards can invade and infect force users, living within their hosts as they in time try to take them over or find a exist within to find another host. These shards have a whole host of strange and unusual abilities. I was, at one time, infected by one of these shards. But if all six are able find a host and take it over... it will spell doom for all time..."

He paused for a moment. That was the broad strokes to catch them both up to speed. There was more, because of course there was, but that he would explain as and when it came up.

"Wapoe when he fixed the timeline created I believe six or so Holocrons of prophecy that told the entire history of time... I wonder..." he moved his hand, commanding the Holocron to open.

It did.

The Father, the one before Anakin, appeared.



I speak to you from the Holocron of Prophecy of Dwartii, a terrible device that I have repurposed for the mission of Balance. Much as I was instructed by the Maker, so too will I one day pass, as all things do, and so I leave this for future Force Wielders responsible for Balance, the Light, for Dark... and for Chaos.

My words are overlain over a weapon that the Master of Masters, our most trusted Protector, into the future. The timeline was fixed where the Force should have no such direction, and the possibility of a great many of myriad alternaties has been raised. The way to the World Between Worlds has been sealed from those who would dare use them, and only a great confluence of Keys will allow a Weakness to exploited. These Weaknesses you must protect, to prevent the Sith from escaping to other realities, at the bidding of the Darknesses - the former Old Ones we defeated in the Cosmic Wars. Six in number, but supported by the First Evil.

So too must you intervene to prevent Changes from occurring. I have set it so that the avatar of Chaos will be freed from imprisonment when that occurs; when the sentience of this galaxy reach the point of no return; that they may damage the Force, like the Master of Masters once did. I cannot stop those of you who represent Light and Dark from raising great armies and Orders to oppose one another - Jedi and Sith, embattled for all time - but whatever your loyalties, you cannot break the Force.

Without the Force, all life ends.

Without the Force, we cease to be.

This is your Great Calling, whether a Chosen One, or Chosen by a One.

Please, do parse the depths of this Holocron, so you may see what is Fixed, and what is not.

What should be, and what should not.

The future is your responsibility.

The Son listened to the words of the Father of long past. His words reinforced and confirmed what the Son had just spoken. The Son's hands motioned delicately toward the Holocron of prophecy treating it with utter reverence. With this... the agent of dark spun into dark thoughts... the inner turmoil and chaos of his soul speaking to the possibilities that one could achieve with such a power.

The power to see the future.

There was no reason that the Son's own goals were mutually exclusive with the other 'assigned' task of the Father. One he knew that was true and necessary. His sith-colored eyes trailed to that of the Daughter and Mother who seemed especially quiet. They seemed... distracted.

Oh... so that was it.

"Do you not want to see it?" questioned the Son. His hand lifting the Holocron delicately in his palm, his eyes glinting at the thought.

"How your loved ones die? For no doubt, you will outlive them now... anyone you knew, anyone you cared for... in time they will be but dust on the wind..."

He paused, holding up the Holocron. "Well? What do you say on our great calling? What choice will you make?"

The Daughter shook her head. "I don't need to see how they died," she answered the Son. "I know that they lived and that is enough."

"I dont need to see that either." Madelyn said stiffly. Angry. "Why would I want to see that?" She questioned. She glared at the son. "Leave it."

The Son nodded slowly. They both were annoyed by his comment but had missed the underlying point he was trying to make. That they were immortals, and that their duty extended to all peoples... of the crucial key of their new work. And they both missed the second, and to the Son far more crucial, question. He gave sigh.

"You are both distracted, though you have perhaps earned that right... if neither of you are interested in the threats that will destroy all things, then I shall deal with them as I have always dealt with things. Alone,"

And with that, he would vanish.

The Holocron regarded them, their interplay, for the moment. The old Father of Balance knew this dichotomy very well.

His own Son had been eager to use their powers to right wrongs, whereas he and his Daughter were not. But whereas he would not curtail his Son, his Daughter, she had used all her power to do so, even from this limited space.

In mere minutes, the three of them were beginning the same dynamic that he had managed for a hundred millennia.

It was, after a fashion - reassuring. No matter how difficult the Jedi, Sith, or whatever they called themselves in the future, these three would keep the Force from shattering as it nearly had a few days before.

So he had nothing more to say.

"I am interested, of course," the Daughter spoke up. "I will do whatever is required of me to save this galaxy."

TAG: @Sinrebirth @CosmoHender @TheSilentInfluence

 

OOC: Combo with @Sinrebirth

IC: The Son
'Exocron'

The wind swept like a scythe across the large open plain. The dark, grey mountains looming in the far distance with their jagged spikes piercing the blue sky. He found it a miracle that the twin piles of rocks had not been completely knocked over and dissipated across the area. There were a couple of shards of rock here and there, and so he would move using his own two hands to place the rocks back into the neat little rocks that they had once been.

These were the graves of his parents that he buried for them when he was just thirteen years old. It was after he had done this that he had joined and arisen within the Knights of Nevet, becoming that of the Eye... only for his plans of maneuvering himself higher up in the empire to be cut short as he warped into the eldritch horror as Lord, Unu, of the killiks.

And now he was here, The Son. For the first time, since he was but a boy he wondered what they would think of him. Of the path he had chosen for himself, though much of it he had been but an unwitting pawn... but now...

"I suppose I have a new family now..." he began, a soft smile passing onto his lips. "I think you would like them... though I do not know them very well, not yet anyway... they are not really big on talking..."

He clambered down on the grass, holding a small rock between his fingers as he fiddled with it, thinking over what he wanted to say.

"I've killed a lot of people... I tried... I really did try to see if I could... bring you back, to end it... all the death, all the misery..."

He gave a sigh, he could feel himself getting emotional. Not the adrenal-fueled, power-focused emotion typical of the dark side. But just utter sadness.

"I know now that my plan was foolish, that it was never going to pass... but I know of a far greater sin. I know the truth of the Master of Masters. That the cycle of light and dark... of death and destruction, it was all perpetuated by him and maybe... maybe if he never had then those Jedi never would have..."

The Son could not bring himself to finish the train of thought. How utterly pathetic, part of him felt. The self-loathing already rising up within him as he took a strained breath.

"And what I hate most of all... is that I understand why he did it, and that even if I stop him, seek out my revenge upon him..."

Another pause, his eyes growing in fear as he even thought about the two threats.

"Then there is the First Darkness and Father, waiting to sweep in and enact their own ages of Darkness across time and space..."

He spat to the side. "Though that bastard probably thinks he'll be saving everyone with his 'Great Work'

He looked to his mother's grave. "The answers are not going to come easy, I know that... but to go and tell the Master of Father's plans... if he does not kill me first or to kill the Master and figure out some new way to stop the First Darkness... if such a thing is even remotely possible..."

"I really don't know... but I know in time, I must choose,"

So you haven't already?

That was the Father's Voice

The former Father.

The Son's head perked up... he had assumed the former Father was dead... so... His brow furrowed as he looked up at the sky.

"Well... for now I think I will keep it to myself, which will help his plans as much as that disgusts me," He scratched the back of his head.

"Are you a ghost? Or are you somehow still alive, or just speaking to me from the little box?"

I was killed by the Dagger of Mortis, so I am truly gone.

He sounded almost wry.

But I can see the same frustrations my Son had within him. With the Daughter who refuses to intervene, in-spite of our power, with the Balance, for it fostering the continuation of nothing.

The Son chuckled at the inherent paradox of speaking 'I am truly gone'.

"I cannot get a pulse on the Mother or Daughter... their alien silence is... unnerving," he murmured.

"Did you ever come up with another way to defeat the First Darkness? One that doesn't require the sacrifice of countless lives?"

No.

The Father said, shaking his head.

All that I could do was perpetuate a design which prevented the Old Ones from finding hooks within the Force. To use Chaos to shatter any danger to that Balance. But the Sith grew smarter, and their imbalance was longer, more plotted, and planned. No one action would undo what Darth Bane put into motion, and what Darth Sidious was the ultimate creation of.

He lamented.

When the imbalance was impossible to stop, and so subtle that it did not trigger a Change - I began to die.

"I thought not," spoke the Son, if he had then he would have done something about it by now. And if there was such an easy alternative the Master of Masters would have likely taken it. No?

"It feels hopeless... how can I stop what you could not even after millennia? What if the Master is right? That it is the only way to stop the First Darkness?"

To do what? Break the Force?

"To defeat the First Darkness, if breaking the force requires that,"

And then what, thereafter?

"Then... the threats beyond these realities," spoke Azathoth, his eyes wandering over the grave of his parents.

Exocron shifted, and he found himself back on Mortis.

He had never left, seemingly.

Mortis would not just release anyone, not any one One.

The other threats cannot be your concern. This reality needs to be isolated from the Greater Wars. It should not be, and so, should not be involved. If you obey, a hundred millennia of Balance will follow.

"How utterly naive," spoke the Son, looking idly around the confines of Mortis.

"They are necessitated to be my concern... The Master of Masters will come for us, his plan, his goal, necessitates that. I will not be some little sheep waiting tenderly for the slaughter,"

Perhaps. But when that happens, will you have the support of your family, or will you and they be so riven with division that the End takes you nonetheless?

At that, the Holocron silenced itself.

Maybe. Thought the Son to himself.

It was all certainly possible. That his struggling would be futile. But he had not gotten this far by giving up... he had to at least try.

He looked down at the Holocron, picking it up as it balanced delicately in his fingers. He just needed one of them.

Father
Mother
Daughter

Which one would be the easiest to convince.

If he could get any of them to start talking to begin with... they were all trapped here afterall.

Surely one of them wanted to leave, to do something.

Hopefully.

TAG: @Sinrebirth Mentions: @CosmoHender @darthbernael @TheSilentInfluence

 

IC: Supreme Leader Vezrra Anor - Combo With Sinrebirth
Rodia, Exiting her Damutek

Stepping out upon the balcony she had grown on the southern exposure, she looked out upon her world as she grabbed a bladder flask off an waiting attendants hands. Sipping the warm and mildly intoxicating beverage she nodded her thanks, dismissing the attendant as she stepped forward to rest upon her polyp throne at the edge of the balcony from which she looked far to the verdant jungles and saw the few people out fishing. Rodian and Yuuzhan Vong both going about simple lives.

A stray thought tugged her back to the war, to the final battle all those hundreds of years ago. Not that she had really aged a day the well fed Leviathan blisters constantly restoring her youth and her vigor. She absently rubbed her wrist, knowing her hands had not been with her at that time, neither had her eyes, nor her tongue, nor her left ear. . .she was pieces of so many things now and was better for it. How things might of been different if she had been more complete as she was now back then? Perish the thought. If she had been different she would of made different mistakes.

A concerned thought probed at her mind that she smiled and waved away. Her tendril fingers brushing the air as though clearing the webbing from her mind. It was from the pazhkic Yuuzhan'tar al'tirrna that had its well off to the left of where she presently sat. Most just called it the Rodia World Brain. Every Yuuzhan Vong world had one, and each was attuned to the chosen world. That is to say, to the local ecology as well as to that which the Yuuzhan Vong introduced. One of their acquired worlds was still in the process of being reclaimed from a toxic wasteland from the ravages of war and would soon become a replica of the Yuuzhan Vong homeworld. Another bothersome thought as that meant she likely would be expected to have a home there and visit it as well. It was tiring and she already spent far more time in her Cognition Throne that linked all of the pazhkic Yuuzhan'tar al'tirrna from the varied worlds together as was, that and the Senate of course. Nothing was easy, but if it was it fast and easy she would not trust it and if it was fast and easy she might never be satisfied. No, it was better this way. Making sure all Yuuzhan Vong worlds were unique, all were variations and all had unique exports that all the others relied upon. They were a singular people with younger races that were slowly swelling beneath their watch, slowly improving as they in turn encouraged the Yuuzhan Vong to improve. Something she had barely been up to the task of, but had been given a leg up on by the input of things she learned from the dream Soliloquy as well as the one of this waking world.

There was a smattering of Yuuzhan Vong, and two would be squabbling behind him.

The galaxy was peaceful now, but there remained adherents of the old ways and new ways, as ever. It would take centuries for them to completely turn to the path he had set.


Zenoc Quah



Nei Rin

Sighing she bowed her head to the World Brain's domain with a parting notion sent through her Vong-sense before she rose from her throne. Turning her shimmering eyes upon the two bickering Yuuzhan Vong she slowly advanced on them as she recognized them. Zenoc Quah and Nei Rin. Of course.

If there were ever representations of what they were or what they were on course to become under her leadership, these two embodied either vision perfectly. Still, the old had to be respected, she had killed many challengers from that line of thinking and she had had to curb many of the more progressive to keep her people moving forward together as best able. "What needs settled between you now?" She asked in a hardly feigned voice of authoritative annoyance.

"Whether we build for the glory of the Yuuzhan Vong Empire!" Quah rasped. "I have new weapons, incredible ones."

"Or whether we are truly Extolled," bit Nei Rin. "And shall use our skills to heal the galaxy. Do we seed the future, or burn it down?"

"The war was not lost, my dear," Quah spat.

Anor sneered at the two of them. She hated sometimes just how much work she had ahead of her as both of them were correct and yet absolutely wrong! "We did not loose the war! We did not beg! We are not EXTOLLED!" She started by chiding the one. Extolled was the name for the Shamed caste that had been redeemed, and many yet treated them as Shamed.

Looking at them she breathed deep before continuing, "Nor are we merely death made manifest by the Yuun! We are the severed parts of Yuan-Yuuzhan! Fashioned in paradise, to be seeds of change and growth of all that he made! We were recast from Shapers and Keepers of Paradise to Warriors cleansing the taint that threatened Paradise!" Arms wide she clenched her fists until her nails dug into her flesh and drew blood that slowly dripped down to the floor. "We failed. We purged our galaxy, but we lost paradise. We came here and through the trials of the Yuun we are being recast once more. We rebirth what we lost, what we failed, and we guard it. We are the Shapers, the Tenders, and the Keepers of the vestiges of that beginning. We need weapons to protect what paradise we yet make, that no warrior or thief thinks we merely make that they might take, and we need seeds that we might spread and grow that paradise and the legacy of the Yuun. We are not threatened, and we are not weak." She stared at them both, unblinking. Waiting to see if her words had the desired affect on them both.

Nei Rin bowed deeply. "I can only apologise, my Lord."

Quah however didn't stop. "We didn't win it either, my Lord! We should press on! As anointed!"

Opening her palms she brushed the blood off of them as her healing rapidly closed the wounds and soon nothing but small scars were left visible. "As we were anointed. Were. Our anointing was to purge our home galaxy, we did that except we purged ourselves as well. Our anointing was to find a new galaxy where we would be called to serve the will of the Yuun. We found it. We were anointed to establish ourselves here and establish peace with those that opposed us. . .we failed. We were used by a false Supreme Leader and Prophet that claimed to be a Yuun incarnate. We were controlled not by a Yuun but betrayed by Onimi influencing us against our anointing. We were decimated. We shattered as a broken people and lost that anointing."

Sticking her chin defiantly upwards Anor looked down on Quah, forcing her rainbow eyes to swirl as they focused on and bore through her with her stare. "We regained favor by the few the Yuun found favorable. We were re-forged and a new anointing was given. One I have been tasked with overseeing until it is complete or the will of the Yuun changes. If you feel called to challenge me and test whether that will has changed and I have not paid attention to it, that the anointing has gone back to what it was instead of what was last given to us. . ." She leaned forward, arms wide with fingers clawed and wide. "THEN CHALLENGE ME!" she gutteraly growled at the woman.

Then with a whisper, "Otherwise get your head out of the anus of yesterday, it shows weakness."

Quah hissed, and seemed to splay her hands, but Nei Rin flicked a finger and it elongated and pierced her throat. She gagged, and she looked apologetic. "I have no doubt you would triumph, Supreme Overlord, but I thought we would, as the infidels say, have cliff-notes." A quirk of a smile, human-style. "But I would ask, as you fill the Eighth Cortex... to what end? What threat do we build to face? We still build weapons, no?"

She just wanted to understand.

Vezrra stepped forward, stopped herself from grabbing the body but obviously had a small hunger to truly know all the ideas that woman had had in her head for weapons. Of course the survivor had a question and Anor sighed through split lips at it with an idle shake of her head.

"We build and design weapons in the hopes we never shall need them, but so that if we do we will be a match for the new challenge. Or the old." She added with a nod before looking about conspiratorially before motioning the woman closer. "And because history has facts that have never been corrected. We never completely purged our home galaxy, there are vanquished enemies that fled as we eventually did. Some scout and odd reports from this galaxies own peoples have a ring of truth that those that fled may yet have lived and been living here. Machines are slower to forget then us, and we will not be caught unawares if they ever become a challenge again."

Nei Rin knew the tales.

The two droid races, one of unholy symmetry and the other of monstrous asymmetry.

It had not occurred to her that they may have survived, and be here, and she felt dread creep into her bones.

But it was true.



The Silentium served the Celestials, and one had met the now-Son.



The Abominor had themselves served the Old Ones - the Darknesses - and tucked away in Imperial history were reports of one such creature of metal intellect cooperating with Admiral Screed...

But she didn't know that.

No, Vezrra was merely being what she was often whispered as.

Yu'Shaa.

The Prophet.

She nodded grimly.

"We will be ready."

TAG: The Future