Star Wars CLOSED Star Wars: Ronin: The Curse of Qalydon

IC: Janus Jerjerrod
Location: Electrostar, Tinnel

It was good to be back on board. She still was not in the best of shapes, but she would be ready for the next battle nonetheless.

As he and Kazu had come back up from his sisters estate a host of familiar names popped up:

Thunderball

Firebolt

Stormy Tempest

Danger Zone

And of course Roadblock among the host of names popping up on sensors. Antillies had played a blinder, it seemed he was picking up on some of Janus's teachings.

Thunderball and Danger Zone provided updates. It seemed the rest of the Lords (sans one lady now) were on Coruscant. And it seemed the Sith were getting a little bit of a hammering.

After hearing the rest, including about Storm Corps troopers being aboard and the plan ahead, he ventured his opinion.

"You keeping Storm Corps troopers aboard my ship is helpful but if I see any attempt to take my ship I will have them removed. I've already lost this ship once, I will not lose it again".

"As to your plan, I concur with my Captain. We are taking on eleven dreadnaughts with one. Our destroyers and ships we have are a good fighting force, no doubt of that. But some of the Admirals we are fighting against will not back off and will not surrender".

"Can we keep them busy? Yes. But it will depend on speed. If you can take out the Council as quickly as you can, then the Admiralty will be in disarray. I can then either take them out, or get them to join me".

He nodded at Kazu "I can vouch for Kazu. He took out my sister with only the power that a droid could unleash. Kazu I think could hopefully take out the rest as I am sure he has learnt a few things from his last duel…."

TAG: @Sinrebirth , @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Licht
Mischief

Licht's eyes gleaned with a morbid fascination, his sky blue eyes slowly fading in a silent continuous process as they became a bejeweled emerald green. His fingers twitched slightly as the Emperor addressed him, a quizzical brow raised as he listened to the question of the man.

"Do you intend to intervene, or merely witness?"

Licht hesitated, looking at the infestation of metal as Akuma-Oni struggled. A quiet pulse of a vein across the forehead of the old but impossibly youthful friend.

"Oh such an intervention on my part would surely be imprudent..." his lips curled into a faint, phantasmal smile. "Your dark pets are doing so well,"

TAG: @Sinrebirth @greyjedi125 @darthbernael

 

IC: Akuma-Oni
Beneath the skin of armor

He had been ready for combat, expecting a mighty struggle, a contest of wills! But the Dreaded Lord was adamant in his disinterest to engage in such a match. As Akuma-Oni had surmised, the Dreaded Spirit was not stronger, not in the manner he’d lead them to believe. But he did possess greater knowledge of the dark arts, especially for someone so long lived.

Despite Maldael’s assistance, the would-be-Emperor refused to be contained. So much so, that he lashed out with unfettered power, as a dark spirit was wont to do, snarling and twisting sinews, rending flesh and snapping bones!

Akuma-Oni growled furiously as he felt pain he thought he’d long forgotten, the sort that would drive any sentient being to madness, the kind the mind buries for the sake of survival.

In that arena he had been bested, perhaps even taken by surprise by the turn of events. In the midst of his howling torment, he could feel his armor became unlatched, even as it was taken from him against his very will - leaving him clad solely in pieces of his under-armor. Akuma-Oni cursed liberally, tongues of flames issuing from his mouth. He was desperately focused on dampening the Dread Lord’s onslaught against his physical body, lest he should be rent to literal pieces.

And so, his form was revealed.

Wild unkempt obsidian hair spilled out from his head unto his shoulders. His face and exposed body parts were covered in a plethora of burns, scars and wounds, some which seemed as if they simply refused to heal fully. Horns, many of which were broken, protruded from his head.

His eyes had become like burning embers as fury and pain struggled to overtake his equally adamant will.

The contest continued uninterrupted, until finally Akuma-Oni’s armor seemed to be reforming on its own, or rather, by manipulation of the Dread Lord Ku'ar Danar. The former Dark Retainer’s prize, the armor he had taken from a Tyrannical Warlord, was now being taken from him, being reforged and possessed by a Sith Spirit. Hollow vestments for a hollow man.

Indeed, the irony was not lost on him.

For now, he just needed a moment to master the pain, to set his bones and regain his senses.

Damnable Sith!

The Dread Lord may have robbed him of his armored skin, but his loss would become the spirit’s new prison, along with everything else the armor represented.

Tag: @Sinrebirth, @darthbernael, @Shadowsun

 

IC: Marcus and Nin

How strange, the Sith Lord features not unlike that of the Emperor, Licht, and Maldael... did Nin sense an odd connection there? Perhaps there was more than...

He would have little time to speculate as his white blade hummed into existence. With dance-like movements, he came to deflect the bouts of blaster bolts that came toward him. With each movement, he drew ever closer hoping to clear the gap between them and get a clean movement for decapitation.

He was sure that his 'partner' could take care of themselves.

Marcus Dren was surprised for only a moment before he realized what had happened.

He knew Karness Murr, after all. He knew what Murr did.

He made monsters.

Marc's lightsaber flew into his hand and he ignited its red blade, deflecting the bolts fired upon him and Nin by the former Mandalorian. He saw what Nin was trying to do and he gave him aid, using the Force to push back several of the monsters that were shooting at Nin.

The Force push made space, and Karness Muur watched as the battle was joined, smiling as he walked around the perimeter of the scuffle. One gesture drew Marc's blade aside, still in his hand but tugged out of line as a Rakghoul launched at him, mouth wide open - as for Nin, a Rakghoul shot up into the air with his jetpack and sought to land behind him, and Muur was sure to pin his feet with the Force so he could not turn.

Why ever would he fight fair?

Marcus growled at this and lifted his other hand up. Lightning cracked from his fingertips, fueled by his distaste for Murr's tactics. One bolt struck the Rakghoul launching itself at him, another struck the Rakghoul in the air. The first Rakghoul flew back, the second Rakghoul was sent flying away.

Murr hadn't changed a bit, Marcus could tell that much.

Nin would feel the planting of his feet, though such a hinderance was something of only passing concern to Nin. His eyes closed, his mind set adrift as he felt ever so subtly the future movements of Rakghoul, his blade coming up to prevent any threat coming his way. And his feet, he focused on them, feel the dragging sludge that held them down. Slowly he conversed with it to free, him, his body twisting to face Murr.

He had made an error in facing Nin.

Muur was pleased, deeply so, as Marcus used Force lightning. "Oh, ho!" He grinned at the man. "Still using the dark side, I see." His amulet shone on his throat, and the Rakghoul survivors shifted - three sought to bundle Nin, and Muur himself raked a clawed hand, yanking at him with the Force to draw him close, a crimson blade appearing from a hilt that appeared in his palm.

Mine.

Marcus noticed this.

The amulet. The amulet was controlling these monsters.

While Murr's attention was on Nin, Marcus reached out with the Force... and targeted Murr's amulet, trying to pull it toward him.

Nin's blade became a white blur. Like that of a cloud, formless, immaterial... creating a vexing barrier on all sides of the seasoned, albeit former, Jedi.

His eyes took a moment to sense what Marcus was doing. Nin could only focus on trying to overwhelm Murr and the Rakghoul while Marcus seized the trinket in question...

TAG: @Sinrebirth @CosmoHender

 

IC: Kazu
Processing options

Kazu silently watched the process of planning. The unit kept its own council on the plan, no one liked to hear from a droid during such things. It’s fate was now in the balance controlled by how those here would balance the scales of war.

Knowing further analysis would be a waste of processing power, it continued to uproot the hidden subroutine and search for any other ‘stealthed’ or ‘situational’ programs.

TAG: @Sinrebirth

 

IC: Self-Name
A past recalled

In that moment, he struggled mightily against an enemy not made of flesh, one who would steal an identity not his own, but an armored carapace taken from a corpse. In that conflict, by force he was revealed, unrecognized by all, save by one.

Another fought with him, while several watched- but he dared not lose focus, he needed to use the pain, or all would be lost. But even then, he heard it, as clear as a crashing cymbal.

“Akuma-Oni, you are unmasked, and now, unnamed. Name yourself.”

Name yourself.

Name.

Yourself.

Time seemed to stop, as a barrier of murky haze burst into countless splinters, at once rent by a flash flood of memory.

‘Pain’ was the bridge to Strength, ‘Anguish’ the foundation to an Iron Will. As Harrow, he had learned much, grown strong. But he’d become much stronger still. Like unto a creature of Myth.

His name. It induced fear. His name had become equivalent to Anger, Vehemence, even Hate.

It was he who had bested a grand Jedi. It was he who’d face a Left Handed Lord. It was he who had gained the Darque Staff, it was he who had forged the the Dark Blade of Hate. He and his brother who had defeated an armada.

He who had finally become… One of Three.



Manticore

Yes, that was his name.

The name he had named himself.

“….Manticore……” He rasped then. A powerful blast surged where he stood, as the darkside crested ever higher.

“….I…..Remember…….!!”

And woe to the enemies he did not forget.


Tag: @Sinrebirth, @darthbernael, @Shadowsun

 

OOC: GM Approved

IC: Licht
Hmm

With a half-measured glance towards the man that was called "Maldael". His eyes were impassive, unimpressed. As his head tilted Maldael might have been able to catch the hint of pointed ears similar to his own as the gaze of Licht intensified.

A crushing, tumultuous wave. One tap of Licht's finger across his folded arms as a blistering telekinetic attack assailed the Sephi. It was bright. Overwhelming. Like a sun that wished to burn all the air away. It was likely in Licht's mind that Maldael was already exerting a good amount of effort to try and bind him to this dark 'thing'.

But there was a clarity to Licht's mind. A conviction that refused to be stirred away.

The hammer continued to rain down upon the anvil that was Maldael's mind. Threatening to skewer it if he continued.

Unlike the Emperor, Licht cared not if Maldael died.

TAG: @darthbernael @Sinrebirth @greyjedi125

 

OOC: Actions approved

IC: Licht
Oh?

With a movement of his arm he moved aside the husk of armor, unsure what vague point this young one was trying to make by attacking him. He shut off the telekinetic attack, the young one was straining under the depths of the dark already. Perhaps he misunderstood the purpose of Licht. What he was here truly for. It mattered little, Licht had no interest in getting to know either of these beings personally. Nor did he have anything to prove to them as perhaps this young Sephi was trying to do. No he was here merely to observe. His thoughts kept in reserve least those try and glean what he was truly thinking. His head turned from the elfling pup toward the beast-like zabrak, the darkness clinging strong to him as a dark spot within the room. Licht gave a nod that could be misconstrued as respect or approval but was merely acknowledgement.

His eyes then shifted to the Emperor. "I have seen what I needed to, a kind reminder of your promise. I look forward to the details of how exactly you intend to keep your word,"

He then turned around to exit the area. "I shall find these sons of yours, I have some... choice words to discuss with them,"

TAG: @Sinrebirth @darthbernael @greyjedi125

 

IC: Marcus Dren

Marcus was not expecting for Murr to crumble without the amulet.

That felt almost too easy...

But his priority now was dealing with Murr's monsters, who now seemed to be looking to Marcus for guidance.

And guidance Marcus would give them, raising his arm with the amulet.

"Kneel," he commanded.

He was, after all, still Marcus Dren, Master of Beasts.

TAG: @Sinrebirth

 

IC: Darth Manticore
Once a Sith Lord...

There was a shot - and then a roar from the zabrak.

The one called Licht crumpled to the floor due to a fatal wound through the head. In that instant, the Dread Lord’s specter was ushered to his Final Oblivion, thanks to Maldael's efforts.

Manticore - now that he was finally himself - fell to the ground in an agonizing crouch and howled in a terrifying manner. In that moment, he'd turned his focus from striking a dark blow to the Dread Lord’s mind, then began to set a myriad of his own dislocated bones back into place via the Force. There was little he could do about the gashes and lacerations he'd suffered from their conflict. What were a few more scars to a warrior such as he?

The zabrak’s raven hair was completely disheveled over his horned head and partially covering his face, his eyes seemed almost wild for a brief moment, yet his indomitable focused soon returned. Heaving breaths became even instead of labored, even as the moment passed.

To one side, Akuma-Oni’s armor lay shattered and discarded, useless and not to be worn again. One the other, Licht lay dead as blood pooled around his head like a dark halo.

Manticore regarded the Emperor, and gazed into his gold colored eyes, not unlike his own which burned like embers. His gaze then turned to Maldael, the one who was likely an ‘avatar’ of one whom he knew well.

“Brother….” Manticore rasped and nodded to the Sephi in acknowledgement.

Then, issuing a huff, the zabrak forced himself to rise, though a bit unsteadily. He would refuse any help should any be offered. The Emperor blew smoke from the blaster’s nozzle, which caused him to chuckle in amusement, nevermind the discomfort it caused, for he was slowly regaining his strength.

Manticore regarded the weapon and respectfully refused it. He wouldn’t have been able to grasp it either way, as the bones in his hands were just set anew and were still recovering. However, he had no trouble answering the Emperor’s query.

Ku’ar Danar was no more, sealing away the past and leaving a single option in his wake.

“Revenge….” the zabrak Sith Lord rasped darkly.

This was now his only way forward.


Tag: @Sinrebirth, @darthbernael

 

OOC: A combo with @Mitth_Fisto and @Sinrebirth

IC: Janus Jerjerrod, Kazu
Location: Electrostar, Tinnel

The programs had finished their subroutines diagnostics and intrusive code originator qualifiers to come to a distracting conclusion. The program was downloaded as it was executed like a self deleting worm. This was distressing. As without the ability to fully study the worm a guarantee to block it was unlikely to be completely effective. Moreover how the delivery was happening meant that there was an unsecured receiver within this units systems.

Then the aberration was located. The topics at the table were irrelevant as means of removal was calculated for variable odds. A safety would have to be used otherwise errant destruction in combat would see the whole unit fail, this would create a kill target in combat, this was unacceptable for such an easy target to be made and the lack of hardlines supported the theory that destruction in combat would not allow further subroutines to be released from that point of the false screw. Removing a laser weapon Kazu rapidly input the calculated wavelength and strength needed to perfectly destroy the false screw and leave it nothing more than a welded screw that served no additional function.

Disregarding the meeting the droid walked over to Admiral and held out the weapon. "Brace weapon on back of chair to stabilize it properly. Fire on command." The unit ordered before turning and twisting to expose and align the screw with the aim of the Admiral. "Fire." It stated once it was sure that the Admirals aim would not waver.

It seemed that in all of this planning, Janus, Antillies and company were about to head into a suicide mission. Yes you did possibly die in war but it was to die in glory and honour, not do any kamikaze moves.

Antillies had an idea which seemed plausible but it seemed Kazu had a little job first for Janus. Some sort of weapon?

He wasn't quite sure how this was going to help him in a space battle but the droid it seemed wanted to give him this. So he followed it's commands and fired at the spot indicated.

"I'm assuming that what I have just aimed and fired at is not a bit of you that you might be needing later" he said raising an eyebrow. "If you are going into a ground battle we need to make sure you are functioning well".

Kazu's systems started a quick diagnostic, beginning the process of verifying whether or not the attempt had been successful. As well as a full systems review of the multiple firewalls it had surrounded those circuit paths with to check for any contained or prevented data assaults. Kazu wanted to be certain, as certain as a droid could ever be, that it indeed was a boon to his operational efficiency and preventive in activation exploitative weakness generation.

The shot was as accurate as could be, chewing into the hardware and blowing it out. There was no great damage to Kazu, mainly scoring, but his systems would, at diagnostic, after a small amount of static interference, reveal a clean bill of droid-health.

Indeed, new contours of his programming were now available to the droid.

Kazu stuttered in a diagnostic shake as he straightened himself once more into an erect position. “Operational capability has not been compromised.” Stepping forward he extended a hand to take the weapon back.

Janus handed the weapon back "Glad to be of service" he simply said.

He wondered if the droid would say anything more or whether it was back to the meeting.

Resuming its position this unit began analyzing the new contours to its coding. Trying to detect and determine the new qualities that this shift would allow for this units future functioning. Leaving the masticating carbon sacks to plan.

The Dark Lord watched, as did Antilles.

"Are we ready to attack Coruscant?" Ajunta Pall said, lightly. Auspicious words, there.

Antilles swallowed. There would be no going back, if so.

Janus turned to the Lord, his hands behind his back.

"Well if we are to fall into oblivion, we might as well take as many traitors down with us. They made thier choice, it is time we made them pay. Then if they decide to rejoin they can do so but only if they swear loyalty to the Emperor and our citizens".

He looked to Antillies "It's time to give your skills a test. If you are to be my second in command then I need to see you have the right leadership qualities".

"I will command from Electrostar with the flag. I will give you command of Roadblock." Janus smiled slightly "Prove your worth, and you can stand beside me as my protogee"

"Systems operating at or above production parameters." Kazu simply stated. Whether or not they were ready was not a thing that Kazu could attest to as he was not meant to be privy to the preparedness nor the capabilities of the rest of the fleet or troops. Kazu could merely give his own status towards any operation regardless of chosen theatre of combat. "This unit stands ready."

TAG: @Mitth_Fisto , @Sinrebirth

 

IC: Janus Jerjerrod
Location: Electrostar, Coruscant

Janus had expected most of the other fleets to be at Coruscant.

What he didn't expect was for them to be engaged in battle. Their enemies had taken advantage of the chaos and started thier attack on the capital.

Janus had to agree with the Dark Lord. Here he should have been sending his former colleagues an ultimatum: join back with the Emperor or get crushed. Now he had to win them back over but after the battle. But the orders coming over were not from them.

Kazu was on Roadblock who had traveled with full might of the Twelfth fleet. Antilles was aboard Roadblock as well and it was flanked by the Centurion destroyers Stormy Tempest and Thunderball. His wished the droid well on this mission.

Janus had to snort at the Grand Master trying to get him to stand down. The two Dreadnaughts were a problem though. And a third was deciding what to do.

Electrostar, still badly damaged was acting as backstop and had the flag. Danger Zone and Firebolt, another two Centurions were with him as protection whilst the other one Artemis was sticking around in the middle.

"Roadblock, face those two Dreadnaughts incoming, Captain Antillies be careful. It's two against one. Find a weak spot and hammer away with weapons, fighters and bombers. The Centurions will assist you".

"All ships, ready weapons and fighters. Kazu, you may depart when ready, I don't think we will receive a better window for you to launch".

He looked at the comm officer "Initiate a general call, Imperial channels only" and when he got the nod he spoke.

"This is Admiral Janus Jerjerrod of the Twelfth fleet aboard the Electrostar. I may have been called a traitor, but it seems our enemies have taken advantage of our infighting. So let us deal with them".

"To the Admiralty. I ask you to stand with me, help me defend our Empire. Do not cower behind the Jedi Lords. They do not serve the Emperor, I do. I am ready to do what is necessary to protect our citizens. Are you?"

"Turn your Dreadnaughts attention to our true enemies the Alsakans. And let us do our jobs right".

TAG: @Sinrebirth , @Mitth_Fisto

 

OOC: Combo with @Sinrebirth

IC: Marcus Dren

Taris

Nin was gone. In his place knelt a Rakghoul, much to Marcus's horror.

He knew that these monsters, these Rakghouls, were too dangerous to be allowed to continue to exist. Especially if all it took was a single scratch to turn someone into one of them.

And the voice in his head... Marcus knew better than to trust Karness Muur. He would not give his body over to the Sith Lord. Not ever.

But before dealing with Muur, these creatures had to be destroyed... and the men they once were had to be laid to rest.

Electricity crackled from his fingertips and soared from his hand, hitting each of the Rakghouls. He intended for the lightning to shut down their bodies completely, ending their horrific existences.

Nin and the others deserved a release at the very least.

The bolts tore into them, and Muur howled. My pretties! How could you!

The power swam through Marcus and seized at his limbs, his own hands ceasing the barrage and reaching for his own throat.

With strain in his voice, Muur spoke up. I command you to surrender your body to me. Now.

Marcus detected the strain in Muur's voice and he smirked.

"You command me?" he asked, almost amused. "You mean you don't have the strength to take control of my body yourself?" He fought against Murr's power and managed to redirect his hands away from his throat, tearing into the Rakghouls with one last lethal barrage. "You forget who you are speaking to, Murr. I am Marcus Dren, Master of the Beasts. You do not command me. I am the one who commands. Which means that your power is mine, not the other way around."

Muur scowled. For now.

Marcus had his power, and the Rakghouls, well, they died.

So now what? Will you hunt my brethren among the Shadow Lords?

Or head to Korriban and eradicate their festering Empire?

Marcus looked down at the talisman on his wrist. "First I am going to see what you were doing here," he told Muur. "And make sure that every last bit of it is destroyed."

It was too dangerous for him to risk leaving behind any of it intact. Only once he was sure could he leave.

Muur hissed. Fine.

Marcus' senses expanded, immensely, violently, almost, perception hammering upon his mind.

Muur had converted the entire planets populace.

There were thousands, no, hundreds of thousands of Rakghouls here, all willing to obey him.

He had power now.

Incredible power.

Too much power.

Marcus was horrified by this revelation. And he knew that the temptation to use that power was too great. So he quickly went back to his ship, now determined to keep Muur as far away from his army of Rakghouls as possible.

"You're a monster," he told Muur in disgust.

Muur shrugged. I needed to be sure that my magicks worked, and that no... unhelpful mutations would occur. It would not do to have an army that could not be controlled...

The sphere of perception increased, covering more and more of the planet.

The numbers began to reach the millions.

My plague will bring the entire galaxy to heel.

A vision.

Of him on Coruscant, millennia from now...



And then four others, none of which he would recognize...



Marcus had no reply. He just focused on leaving the planet's atmosphere. Once they were clear, he began to plot the ship on a new course... into a star.

Karness Muur spoke up, concerned.

What are you doing?

"Dealing with you," Marcus responded. He knew that he couldn't risk Muur taking control at some point. The consequences would be too great.

He then went over to the airlock, ignited his lightsaber... and sliced off the arm with the talisman attached to it.

He quickly sealed up the airlock before the talisman could try attaching itself to him again.

The connection was severed -

WHAT ARE YOU DOING!

Pain rose up, consuming Marcus to the point of near unconsciousness, unless he drew hard, hard, on the Force.

Muur's voice rang, corporeal, not in his head, a massive Sith spirit looming.

YOU DARE DEFY ME AND MY POWER!

Marcus was breathing heavily, fighting against the pain. He thought of his daughter and drew on the Force, using his love for Hope as a way to focus. He ignored Muur's wailing as he limped over to an escape pod. The ship would soon make a jump into a star or at least that was the plan. And Marcus didn't intend to be on the ship when that happened if he could help it. While the surface was crawling with monsters, there were also other ships on the planet that he could use.

Marcus managed to get into the escape pod and he sealed it off from the rest of the ship, preparing to leave Muur to his fate.

"That's your problem, Muur," Marcus said. "You think power is all that there is. But it isn't."

TAG: @Sinrebirth

 

IC: K4-ZU-P8489 or Kazu
Waiting in a hanger

Kazu was unaware of the extra tiers of situations that were happening. All he had to contend with were his ships sensors, and the comm chatter. Being connected to the carrying vessel he also had access to their situational map. It still was an amusement to some processors to have seen a Sith bend the Admiral and the Antilles to his will to get his own way with a ship. That had been a thing of ancient data memories, refreshed now by the recent actions.

Kazu had stayed silent about the whole matter and had merely taken his place. It was no point for a droid to point out the weakness of the groups leadership. Even if it was in the mind.

The battle was found already started for them.

Still when the order came from the weak minded Admiral Kazu did not hesitate. He launched and surged after the Sith in a race to the Senate. Kazu aimed as best able to always keep the other craft ahead and above his own approach. So that it would draw any fire first so as to give this droid unit a longer reaction time to avoid any potential incoming fire.

TAG: @Sinrebirth , @AgentViper007

 

A combo with myself and our masterful auteur, @Sinrebirth

*****************

IC: Darth Manticore
Sith Business

It didn’t matter where or when he was. One fact would remain true, Darth Manticore would always be - a Sith.

His eventually ‘awakening’ clearly signified there was need for conflict, which he would eagerly supply. That an ‘avatar’ of his brother was on hand was a boon of the Force. Lord Hunger and Lord Hate in any variation thereof, would always be a formidable force, and now, this Emperor had need of their combined talents.

The need for Revenge burned like an open furnace inside the zabrak Sith Lord’s breast, and with the sudden news of an imminent attack by one of their sworn enemies, Manticore would see himself to the Meditation Sphere, that is, until inspiration took him.

Fine then. XoXaan's turn would come, soon enough.

In this moment, the Emperor wished to teach his progeny one final lesson. The Second Prince fell to Maldael's care, while the First Prince would be his. Raising a hand, Manticore delayed his 'healing session' in the Sphere. Accepting the challenge before him, he nodded to both the Emperor and Maldael, then took his ragged form to the First Prince's ‘quarters’.

By design, no guards would detain him or impede his progress.

Manticore timed his entrance with that of Maldael’s, so there would be no ‘warning’ given from one Prince to the other, even if such a thing had a very low chance of occurring.

The disheveled zabrak casually entered the chamber, then spoke, his voice raw as he rasped at the Prince- intentionally interrupting him.

“I bring you a rare opportunity….” Manticore intoned darkly, his burning gaze peering from behind ebony strands of hair.

“One last chance for you to make your Father proud…”

The leer that came over the zabrak’s tattooed face spoke volumes. Manticore rolled his shoulders in preparation of what was to follow. The discomfort he was already in lent him strength for the task at hand. It wasn’t that he was underestimating the First Prince. Not at all. Manticore was challenging himself in the state that he was. Conversely, if the First Prince underestimated him because of his ragged appearance, then so be it.

"Can you manage it...?"

The foppish man, coifed blonde and sporting indignity, snarled at the man imperiously. "Alien, I am the Crown Prince of the Galactic Tapani Empire. I do not manage anything; I excel, and whereas you offer me something, you know well that my father is at death's door."

He took a step forward. "Whatever he offers you is transitory at best. Aligned with myself, you would reap all manner of rewards." A curling of his lip. "Sith."

Manticore did not deign to answer the festooned creature which stood before him, for he could now see why the Emperor had decided as he did.

The First Prince was a failure.

For all his noble upbringing and participation in many skirmishes, this man could not recognize what was truly in the room with him, either that, or he refused to acknowledge it, so strong was his blindness and delusion. The First Prince had excelled at failing the Emperor. The time for words were long past. Perhaps it was pride and self deception which kept him from seeing that which was true.There was no 'bargaining' with an appointed ‘executioner’. Fanciful words, nor displays of entitlement carried any value nor weight. In the end, the First Prince had nothing to offer his Father, for in truth, all that he possessed had been given- nothing was earned. Now it was time for the books to be balanced.

Manticore moved suddenly, becoming a spinning blur of motion, his black and red form seemingly leaving a streak of after-images in his wake. The Zabrak Sith Lord spun diagonal to the First Prince’s right-side closing the gap between them. As he spun, Manticore struck out the First Prince’s weapon arm with his elbow, smoothly following with a crushing back spinning thrust kick with his left leg, then delivering a right handed chop to Prince’s left collarbone. Manticore’s left arm remains in guard position.

Each strike would be enhanced and powered by the Force, with more than sufficient impact to dent durasteel.

Wordlessly, the Sith Warrior secretly hoped that his opening gambit would open them up to a more ‘interactive’ discourse on the matters of life…and death.

The Prince crumpled, screaming in pain at his preferred arm bending unnaturally, even before the collarbone strike put him into the deck, all but. He rolled onto his back, wounded in two manners, and puffed out his breath. "You... can't... scare me."

Manticore eyes narrowed for a moment as he now paced 'round the 'Prince', his senses seeking confirmation. Was his target only capable of useless bluster?

Slowly, the zabrak brought a red finger to his black lips.

"Shhh!" He commanded. "Can't you hear that?" he added, mockingly cupping his ear with a hand. His ember colored eyes slowly looked toward the adjacent room, where Maldael was currently dealing with the Second Prince. The muted sounds coming through the walls only amplified the horrors of the imagination.

"Can't you...feel it?" He queried, as he regarded the First Prince, looking to his reaction.

The First Prince hesitated...

He could feel it, and indeed, so could Manticore.

The Force; the Prince had the Force.

He drew upon it as if well-trained - secretly trained - and, his eyes yellowing, he held out his hand to vise at the Zabrak's throat -

Manticore raised a single eyebrow in surprise, as it appeared that the First Prince was suddenly full of the Force, in great quantities.

Indeed, it was, for the Royal launched an attack at the zabrak, with the skill of one learned in the dark arts. Manticore's eyes went wide as his throat was seized by an invisible force, squeezing like a vise, causing him to choke!

A black hand came up in a quick gesture, almost as if clawing at himself, even as Manticore raised a localize defense around his neck, using Tutaminis. In that same instant, the Sith Lord's free hand pointed accusingly at the First Prince, redirecting the energy used to assault him, in the form of a bolt of lightning- aimed at the Royal's wounded collarbone. Then a second bolt followed, for good measure.

"That...*cough*....was....surprising....*cough!*" Manticore stated, catching his breath. So, there was some fight in the First Prince after all. Good. He much preferred it when his targets fought back.

"But, will it be enough....?"

The room began to feel just a little warmer, as ambient heat began to rise.

The lightning caught him in the cluster of nerves just beneath ones neck, and he spasmed, collapsing. The second bolt gave rise to burn medallions across his exposed skin. The First Prince sighed, almost deflated. "I... I was told to keep it secret, by father... the Force... the Darkness."

His eyes glazed yellow again. "But... there is no point, if I have no throne - no.. life!"

That dangerous glint to his eye again, and his hands began to work, not acknowledging that it was rather difficult to use the Force when ones body was on the edge of broken -

A critical moment in their conflict became manifest and Manticore pounced the First Prince with great speed.

The zabrak Sith Lord struck first, using the darkside power of 'Mind Shard' to bodily neutralize his opponent while inflicting great pain, simultaneously leaving his mind vulnerable. Once he was certain he could proceed, he called on 'Darkside healing'.

"Show me your secrets...." He rasped, touching the mind of the Prince as he drained his opponent's energies into himself. In a way, one could say he offered tribute to Lord Hunger.

"Let me...avenge you....." Manticore entreated as he shared in the Prince's pain, all the while seeking what his dying mind would reveal.

***

The mind revealed so much.

It was immense, a hundred thousand flashes; truths, words, suspicions, the words of whispered spies and hushed savants, a galaxy of information.

It would overwhelm Manticore, drive him to the very edge of consciousness.

His last decision before he imploded would be whether to draw more into him from the open mind -

All of it -

Or to save the Prince.

One snippet slammed into Manticore's minds eye -

Out with the old, frail body, in with the new, younger one -

It was the Emperor, crowing, clucking, in victory -

But this was a vision that the Crown Prince had once had, not a truth, but a future -

Darkness nibbled at Manticore's vision -

***

This experience was, in every way, overwhelming.

Manticore did not like losing, he did not relish giving up, he was stubborn to a fault- but he was no fool. To take in another’s mind, another’s life, the immensity of their life experience -all of it - would mean risking his own mind in an all too real manner.

How much would he retain, he couldn’t say for certain, but guess that the parts which were critical would resonate the deepest; they would leave their indelible marks. In truth, he had little choice but to release the dying Prince from the circuit he had created, lest he too suffer irreparable damage.

Black clawing hands released the Prince’s cranium as the zabrak Sith Lord pitched backwards, an anguished cry- not his own- escaped his blackened lips. Fire burned in his eyes as he fought against the loss of consciousness, plumes of fire erupted from his nostrils as he gritted his teeth and snarled in defiance.

There was a 'greater ploy' afoot.

The Emperor.

But that wasn’t truly new- except, the deep impact of consequence.

Manticore fought against the darkness that threatened to claim him, he would not become a vulnerable target, not now that he'd finally come to himself.

Not when he had seen a glimpse of ‘a future’.


Tag: @Sinrebirth, @darthbernael