"When we were embraced by Wonosa, we swore an oath."
The Jurgoran shook as it broke through the atmosphere, although the shudder was barely felt within the craft itself. Thocha didn't look up from his lap even as the leader of the soldiers began pacing around the seated individuals, himself included.
"Justice for the chained, vengeance for countless sins!"
He recalled taking a different oath, but of course he was unlike these soldiers. These Legionnaires were his siblings in faith and arms but he was blessed unlike them. They were strong in flesh and faith, and he in the Force.
"In the memory of the fallen and for the future of those we may never meet, we swore to toil against the chaos and corruption that has stained the galaxy."
"Even to our dying breath!"
His fingers ran over the scabbard in his lap, adorned with Ur-Kittat scrawl that faintly glowed even in the rather bright illumination of the transport bay. His axe rested next to him, slotted into a rack much like the rifles of his compatriots.
"Those who would stand in our path are blights upon us all, filth that dares to mock the Force's will. Worthy of neither pity nor mercy!"
"We shall smite them with righteous fury!"
The dagger in his grasp was an unfamiliar tool, a weapon that he hadn't quite mastered. He was used to his axe, the weapon of an executioner. This was the implement of an assassin and despite his training as a Darkseeker, it still felt foreign in his hands.
"And continue our march to glorious salvation! Kots tave Itsu!"
" Kots tave Itsu! "
Centurion Thetbye halted his pacing in front of the musing Sith, finally making Thocha look up from his lap to meet the tinted visor of the soldier. Unlike those under his command, Thetbye's armor was emblazoned with some minor gold accents that signified his rank. His armband's scrawl was gilded instead of the usual simple darkened Durasteel and the Wonosan symbols on his helmet were similarly adorned with that color rather than the typical black or red that most Legionnaires sported there.
"The visage of Saint Nihilus suits you, Cleric Thocha." The Centurion spoke low, discreet rather than the booming voice that he had been issuing the chant with just moments before. "But, it cannot hide your hesitation." Thocha blinked and gripped the dagger tighter at the assertion in the other man's voice, finding no real rebuttal of his own to bring forth. After a moment he simply sighed and glanced away from the Centurion. "I worry that I am unfit for the task at hand, Brother Thetbye. That I will fail the Prophet and all of you in this task."
-
Thocha was silent for a few moments too long, something that he knew Darth Strosius had noticed even as the Sith Lord busied Himself with preparing some sort of cast for a blade. "I take it that your silence is not a pleasant reaction to your assignment?" As usual with the Prophet, His words cut straight to the point and left little room for filibuster. The Cleric cleared his throat, finding it somewhat parched at the moment, before he finally spoke in response. "I...find myself confused by the choice of me for such a mission, my lord."
Darth Strosius let out a hum, one that signified that He had indeed expected such but was no less content with the answer. One that he knew was meant to prompt him to continue. "Surely someone more skilled in the ways of the Darkseekers such as Kasir Dorran would be more fit to carry out this duty?" Thocha's hopeful probing was met by the click of His lord's tongue, one that made him wince as he now knew for certain that there would be no room for discussion on this matter.
"Brother Dorran has already been dispatched on another assignment of vital importance to our order. One that will keep him occupied for far too long, this task that I have given you is far more time sensitive and urgent. Your prey might escape otherwise." Thocha let out a grunt and fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Prophet, with all due respect, while a Sith Lord may be 'prey' to yourself I am far less blessed and experienced. I have never crossed blades with another Force User before, not in anything more than sparring at least. Surely another Darkseeker would be more applicable?"
Darth Strosius finally paused His work after maneuvering the cast into place, His hand resting on the lever that would unleash the molten contents of the tank above it into the mold. He looked back at the Cleric, His golden gaze piercing and without a hint of mercy or pity to be found in their stare. But with a hint of something else, hunger. Then it fell from his face to his arm, where a tube was extracting blood from. His penance, the one he had been undergoing regularly since he was inducted into the Order of Wonosa by the Prophet months ago.
-
"You question His judgement?" The Centurion let out a half-hearted chuckle and, in a movement that made the Cleric nearly jump out of his seat in surprise, clapped him on his shoulder. "The Prophet picked you for this duty for a reason brother, forget your own concerns and have faith in Him. You are an agent of His will are you not? And does His will falter?" Thocha rolled his eyes but shook his head nonetheless. "Never."
The soldier nodded and stood up straight once more, seeming pleased with the answer. "Then you won't fail. Now chin up, we make planetfall in five minutes." Thocha gave another nod as the Centurion finally left him to his own devices once more, his gaze drifting back down to the dagger and scabbard in his hands. The Centurion did have a point, this was happening regardless. It wasn't like he could just stay on the ship.
With a sigh he stowed the dagger back to his belt and rolled his shoulders as the announcement of their coming landing blared over the transport's communication system. The Legionnaires retrieved their rifles and began their final checks over them, Thocha did the same for his axe. Kts edge was as sharp as ever, glinting and dangerous just as it should be. Why did it seem like everything but himself was eager for the task to come?
The ship shuddered again as it made contact with the surface of the planet, Thocha's grip on his axe tightening as the Legionnaires unstrapped themselves from their seats and began to assemble in formation before marching down the lowered ramp. He was relieved that he wasn't expected to be at the head of them at least, Centurion Thetbye was in charge of this operation. He was simply here to cut the head off of the snake.
He stood from his seat finally and marched out of the ship, onto the ashen surface of the world that lay beyond it. Vehicles and walkers were being offloaded from the transport itself alongside a few squads, more of which were being brought in by shuttles that were landing around the Jurgoran. The Cleric looked away from the assembling soldiers and instead towards the hill that loomed tall in the distance. Amidst the spires of rock was cradled a stone stronghold, one protected from artillery and air strikes by a shield that had necessitated the landing of soldiers.
That would be their target, and his was within.
-
"I have made my decision, young Cleric, and I shall not be persuaded otherwise." Thocha swallowed the lump in his throat as Darth Strosius turned back to the cast and pulled the lever, watching the oddly pale molten material pour into the cast just enough to fill it before He switched it back off again. "You will travel with the task force sent to eradicate the heretic stronghold. While Centurion Thetbye and his soldiers lead the main assault, you will engage the self proclaimed Sith that leads them into damnation. That is final."
Using a pair of tongs, He plucked the mold from its resting place and plunged it into a nearby tank. Hissing filled the silent room for a moment as the mold cooled and the cast within solidified from its molten state, neither Sith speaking up until He had pulled the mold from the tank and set it aside as steam rose from its surface. "You have hunted criminal scum of varying kinds before, this one is little different." Thocha gritted his teeth and bit back a curse. "My lord this is not simple thug you speak of, this is someone that can wield the Force far better than I!"
"But without your conviction and your righteous purpose." The latches on the side of the mold were flicked unlocked as the Prophet spoke, His back facing the Cleric but with His "wings" still pointed towards him. "You have something that heretics such as the one you will soon face sorely lack. Something that will ensure you will succeed no matter how much you must push yourself to do so." He glanced back at Thocha over His shoulder. "You have plenty to live for."
-
The Cleric hauled himself over the railing and hit the brick floor without a sound, one hand resting on the axe that was stowed at his back so that it didn't clatter against his armor or its binding. The distant sounds of blaster fire and grenade explosions hinted at the battle occurring at the entrance of the stronghold but here in its rear there was no threat of it yet. His sense in the Force stretched out to search for any guards this far back from the front but it seemed empty save for one dark signature in the bunker that occupied the rear wall. The Centurion's plan had succeeded then.
Thocha moved through the alleys between the fortifications like a ghost in the night, his head on a swivel just in case his senses were failing him. Nothing halted his path through the flank of the stronghold's last bastion until he stood before the bunker door, what was no doubt the den of his apparent "prey." The door's control panel hinted at a code being necessary to enter but rather than inputting any numbers he simply attached a lock breaker to the panel and within a minute the heavy door shuddered and began to open.
Unfortunately said door made quite the racket as locks retracted and layers of metal slid open to reveal the bulkhead corridor beyond. There went the element of surprise he supposed. He was quick to draw his axe as he stepped beyond the threshold, feeling the dip in temperature even through his robes and armor. Despite the chill within the bunker no cold wind had rushed out nor had a warmer one come in from outside, a confirmation of what his senses had already relayed to him. The Sith was here.
Cleric Thocha kept his steps measured and silent, his presence in the Force similarly diminished in order to maintain some semblance of stealth in his approach. While his entrance was undeniable there was no need to give away his exact positioning until it was unavoidable, he'd need every advantage that he could muster if he was to survive this endeavor. Let alone emerge victorious from it. Whatever surprise he could salvage for the bout to come would have to do.
The bunker itself had no real illumination to speak of aside from the occasional blinking hazard lights that lined the corners and bulkheads of the corridor, bathing the path forward in glimpses of orange light as they flared and receded to a silent rhythm. He was no stranger to darkness, even before his induction into Wonosa he had always possessed a fairly decent sight in such places. A quirk that had always been chalked up some Near-Human ancestry somewhere in his family lineage. An ancestor that he was very thankful for at the moment as he crept past another bulkhead and paused as the corridor suddenly opened into a wider room beyond the bulkhead.
It appeared to have at one time been some sort of secure storage warehouse, based on the debriefing of the stronghold that he had only half listened to on the transport, but now it was filled with twisted contraptions and devices that seemed more at home in a dungeon rather than a bunker. Some of them eerily reminded him of the Prophet's workshop. Rather than the familiar Sith Lord however, the figure standing in the center of the room and fiddling with something at a desk wasn't anything like Him. This Sith Lord was taller yet fuller, bulky with clear signs of cybernetics poking out from the dark coat that he wore.
"You've been sent here to die, you know that yes?" Thocha froze, the Sith not bothering to turn to face him. "Whoever you serve has signed your death warrant and has assigned me as the executioner. Fear not, I'll grant you a small mercy little pawn. I'll make it quick." Another blink of the lights and the figure was gone, making the Cleric grit his teeth as he hesitantly stepped into the room. His eyes and senses scanned for any signs of activity as he slowly advanced towards where the Sith had been standing just moments prior. He paused mid-step as something made a metallic clink off to his right, a sound that would have been all too easily missed if his foot had lowered to the floor just a moment sooner.
He swung around and raised his axe to intercept the crimson blade that swung down towards him, catching it with a grimace at the pressure behind it. The cyborg Sith managed a smirk, albeit an odd one due to the metallic fangs and pistons that comprised his lower jaw. "You bear a mask akin to Darth Nihilus? How fascinating. For what purpose?" The Sith Lord pulled his blade back and dove into another assault all in one fluid movement, this one a stab that Thocha barely managed to sidestep. His robes were slightly singed in the process but he was otherwise untouched.
He attempted to steal the momentum go the duel by jerking forward with his axe, a hand moving up and holding closer to the head so that he could forcefully cleave into the Sith Lord's chest. The cyborg Sith was just as quick on his feet as Thocha was however, if not even more so, and leapt away before the strike could land. With a cackle he disappeared into the darkness again, blade and all, with another blink of the lights. This disappearing act was already getting very old and potentially deadly but he wasn't quite sure what he could do to counter it. Typically he was the one dancing between shadows, not his target.
While the Sith may have been impossible to spot visibly and very quiet when moving, whenever he leapt into action there was typically some sort of click or clang that would signal a direction for the Cleric to look in. He held off two more strikes albeit these ones seemed more akin to probing than anything lethal. They were blocked or diverted easily enough but each one was far quicker than he had initially expected, the strength behind the blows forcing him to readjust his footing and grip on his weapon each time.
He was being toyed with, that much was obvious, which was as annoying as it was concerning. Clearly the Sith Lord didn't think all that much of his own capabilities but that could be a blessing in disguise. As long as he could manage to wield his enemy's folly and pride against him then he'd have a chance. Not nearly as good of a chance as he'd prefer but one that he would pursue nonetheless. Thocha shifted to a more aggressive stance when the cyborg Sith leapt at him again, sidestepping the thrust and swinging his axe in a wide arc in return. Even with the enhanced speed of the Sith Lord, the swing did still connect albeit in a glancing blow given how quick the Sith was to pull back into the shadows.
The Cleric did his best to repeat the aggressive countering but the Sith Lord had switched up his own tactic in response, now going out of his way to misdirect or feign attacks so that Thocha's dodging or blocking had to be changed in kind which prevented him from making any real strikes. As the axe grew heavy in his hands he suddenly realized what was happening here, a war of attrition. The cyborg didn't seem to tire, any limbs that would have felt fatigue had been replaced by metal and wires and whatever ability was continually cloaking him from view was clearly one that he could use freely without exhausting himself.
Thocha however was all flesh and blood and the constant turning and shifting was already starting to take its toll barely a few minutes into the duel. It was a tactic that, while not in this form, he did admittedly recognize at a second glance. The Prophet fought similarly, with no regard for what wounds He would take or how much He had to expend to gain victory. Unfortunately he had never managed to land a blow of any note against Him, not even in their most basic sparring lessons. The difference between the cyborg and the Prophet was that the former was agile and avoided direct hits while the latter simply powered through any strikes, either soaking them or diverting them purely for the chance to counter. A strategy that he couldn't replicate properly, but one that he could possibly borrow from for a brief moment.
Thocha pressed forward into an aggressive stance as the Sith Lord pounced on him again, wincing as he felt a lightsaber briefly dig into his side as he stepped into the strike and moved forward not with his axe, but with the dagger. He swung the axe as a diversion, one that the cyborg fell for, with one hand while the other pulled the dagger from its sheath. The pale blade glitter in the low light, translucent even as he managed to bury it in the flesh throat of his foe while the enemy's blade cut into him.
-
"And if I fail?" Thocha had accepted his fate, knowing that to dispute any further with the Prophet would only result in aggravating the both of them past the point of usefulness. The Sith Lord had busied Himself with putting the finishing touches on a hilt for the dagger, the blade itself obscured by a cloth while He had been wrapping leather into a comfortable fit around the handle. "You know the answer already, Disciple of Nihilus. What is the outcome of every assignment you undertake?"
The Cleric swallowed the lump in his throat before he responded. "Success or Death, my lord." An affirmative hum served as his response, Darth Strosius offering no words for a moment as He extracted the dagger from the vice and plucked it's scabbard from the table. "Either you will succeed in your mission, or a part of you will die so that your victory can be salvaged in its sacrifice. You must decide which path is best, so long as it is done. Rest assured, you will have the proper tool for the duty regardless."
He offered the dagger to the Cleric, the young man hesitating before he reached out and wrapped his fingers around the handle. He looked into the translucent blade and did his best to ignore how the the Prophet appeared on the side of it. A looming figure of shadow, lit with pale wings and crimson eyes. "A Shikkar is the implement of an assassin. Your task is befitting of such a weapon, one single slice will result in a painful death over the course of hours. One stab will result in excruciating pain within minutes. Do be careful with it Thocha, and only wield it against the one that deserves its sting. The heretic."
-
He wrenched his hand to the side and broke off the blade from the hilt, stumbling back and clutching his side as the cyborg Sith clawed at his throat with a pained screech. The Sith Lord's whole form trembled, legs giving out as he writhed in agony and any semblance of threat that he once posed was quickly replaced by the sight of a man clinging to life. Cleric Thocha dragged his gaze away from the heretic and to the lightsaber that had clattered to the floor, reaching down to pluck it up and clip it onto his belt. It would seem as though he had finally earned the weapon of a Sith.
He stepped over the cyborg, ignoring how the heretic attempted to reach out to him as he gasped and choked through withering lungs. Thocha went to move for the room's exit but a glow adorning one of the workstations in the room caught his attention instead. A Sith Holocron sat perched atop a table, alone in the otherwise cluttered space. He crossed the room to grasp it in three steps, using both hands to cup the artifact and lift it from its resting place. "A sacred relic..." He muttered in awe as the pyramid glowed crimson in the dim light.
He turned to question the heretic but his words fell short as he saw the limp and lifeless form of the cyborg. Evidently the Shikkar's bite must have been far more lethal on a being that had replaced much of his body, go figure. Thocha sighed and glanced around the workshop for any other relics but none caught his gaze aside from the holocron already in his hands, it continually drew his attention and he silently cursed himself for not having some proper container for it to reside in. His own hands would have to do for now he supposed.
The entrance of the bunker seemed far closer than when he had first made his way inside, within a few moments he found himself at the threshold once more. Now though the buildings that comprised the rest of the stronghold were clearly touched by conflict, blaster marks and even some crumbling structures greeted the Cleric as he stepped out into the wider compound once more. His stride paused as mechanical footsteps greeted his ears, head turning to watch as a K'lor walker rounded the corner and approached him.
The walker stopped in front of the bunker's entrance and the top hatch opened, Centurion Thetbye poking up out of the vehicle with a quick salute that Thocha returned in kind. "Hail Brother! My apologies that you've missed all the excitement, we've cornered the last of the vermin now. The main battle was little more than a scrap after all. Seems like the Prophet was too wary of our foes this day." The Sith glanced down at the holocron in his grasp and raised it up so that it was spotted by the Centurion, the latter starting at the sight. "I wouldn't be so sure."
"A relic? I thought your mission was simply to slay the heretic leader." "It was." Thocha clutched the holocron close to his chest once again, glancing between it and the soldier. "Do...do you think the Prophet was unaware of the relic's presence here?" Centurion Thetbye leaned back against the hatch as he shook his head, gesturing to the Cleric in response. "The Prophet assigned you to our aid for this relic's retrieval, I'm sure of it. There are no coincidences." Despite the confidence of the soldier, Thocha wasn't quite so certain.
"Why would He not tell me of it to begin with then? There was a chance that I could have missed it amidst the duel." That he had evidently been tasked not only with the assassination of a Sith Lord of all things but also the recovery of a sacred relic was nothing short of terrifying in concept. The Centurion was of little help in that regard as he simply shrugged. "You will have to ask Him that yourself, Cleric. There are several Shyracks at the landing pads just there, you have orders to return to the Harbinger post haste. We'll clean up what's left."
Thocha opened his mouth to question the new orders but the Centurion had already dipped back into the walker and shut the hatch, the vehicle itself resuming its march not long after and leaving him behind. He sighed and set his jaw tight as he began making his way towards the landing pads. He had caught a glimpse of them during his climb into the stronghold but now they were far easier to spot given that gunships were making landings there at the moment, bringing in supplies and extracting the wounded. One was set aside from the rest and he knew that would be his designated transport, his trudging walk towards it seeming far too short.
-
The Cleric of Nihilus winced as he stepped into the dark room, candles lining the alcoves along the walls and the occasional light from one of the workstations serving as the only sources of illumination to be found here. The Dermaseal that covered his lightsaber wound felt too foreign on his skin to ignore but at least it kept the burn from bothering him. For the most part at least.
"Ah, a child of Wonosa returns to me."
He bowed his head as the Prophet addressed him, the man Himself having been apparently meditating when he arrived. "Come in Brother Thocha, have a seat and tell me of your mission." While he had no doubt that the Centurion had already sent his report, the Cleric nonetheless stepped further into the room and sat across from Darth Strosius. "I did as you commanded my lord, the heretic lies slain." The lightsaber was unclipped from his belt and presented to the unmasked man, golden eyes glancing over the hilt in approval before He nodded. "Now you wield the weapon of a true Sith, we shall have your bleeding ritual done soon."
Thocha set the weapon on the ground between them and retrieved the holocron from his side, having wrapped the relic in blessed Zeyd-cloth which was now undone to reveal the glowing relic within. "And you recovered knowledge from our forebearers as well. Very well done indeed." His gloved hands reached out and plucked the holocron from the Cleric's grasp, the latter somewhat relieved to be rid of the burden of bearing the sacred relic but also somewhat disappointed that its soothing chill left him in the process.
"If I may be so bold my lord, might I ask you of the relic? I wasn't aware that I was meant to retrieve it until I laid my eyes upon it." The Prophet eyes glinted with what one might label a hint of amusement, the pale corners of His mouth quirking up into a small grin. "Yes well, you seemed rather worried about your target. I didn't wish to cause further stress to you by saddling you with another task. But I knew that you would succeed in bringing me this relic all the same." For once Thocha felt some of the tension in his shoulders slacken for once, a sigh escaping him as he nodded,
"Your confidence in me is an honor my lord, I am relieved to have lived up to your expectations." His gaze flickered back to the holocron as the Sith Lord examined it, hesitating before speaking again. "If I may ask...is this relic meant to aid you in Project Inductii?" That drew a chuckle from Darth Strosius as well as a small shake of His head, His fingers pressing shapes into the holocron as if maneuvering some unseen puzzle into place. "Not quite. This relic will indeed be of great use to us, but in a far more grand scope than Inductii."
Rather than elaborate Himself, the holocron lit up at the Prophet's ministrations. Its crimson glow filled the room as it projected an image from its apex, unfocused and swirling for a few moments before settling into a distinct and clear image. It appeared to be of a mural of some kind, one depicting three figures standing together and wielding some great power. "Tell me, child of Wonosa," Darth Strosius grinned ear to ear as Thocha's brows knitted together in confusion, His fangs glinting in the light as the projection slowly zoomed in on the pale figure in the mural.
"How does it feel to gaze upon the face of god?"
