A Coup With Friends [ATTN: Sith Empire]

[Ral Telon]

@[member="Darth Voracitos"]

Ral continued his onslaught on the Ethereal Slave with his claws as he rended and tore at the creature. Once the electricity began conducting, Ral's master's punishments of constant force lightning trained Ral to endure the pain long enough to through the Slave back at his friends. If this worked, Ral would stand there on all fours panting very heavily and growling menacingly.

 

[Balaya Praelior Zambrano]

@[member="Pandeima"] @[member="Darth Voracitos"]

Balaya was still charging the one as it went high, her head ducked down using the blade and axe for cover as she felt one trip her. The only thing keeping its talon was Lord Kaine's small improvements to her armor with the caries. Her thigh high boots could protect her from much as she crashed forward skidding across the floor into the wall and making a small indent that went into the next room as she brushed off and looked at the weapons on the floor. A sneer came on her face while she stepped out of the hole wiping some blood. That had rattled her teeth while busting her lip. Now her hand came out as two thing happened, the spring ejected the saber along her arm to grab and a lavenrok fired at the one attacking Pandeima with a snap hiss of the red blade. Her other hand grabbed one of the electrowhips going forward and snapping the whip back with the force to grab a piece of rubble as she threw it forward at the guard/slave things.

 

[Caulder Dune]

@Darth Voractios

Impossibly fast to Tyrin's mortal eyes, the Ethereal slaves were back on him almost immediately. On a normal occasion, he probably would have met his match, but Gregor's battle coordination was pumping through him. It empowered him greatly, to the point where he felt himself at least an equal to these... Things. They wreaked of Sith Alchemy, so Tyrin could only assume they were some facet in Voractios' mention that he was consolidating power. Maybe he wanted an army of these things. That would've been swell against anyone else, but right now Tyrin was simply aggravated with the things. One of them came from behind, the other lurching at his side in an attempt to amputate his arm.

Tyrin was not having any of that. In one fluid motion, his saber came up, immobilizing the blade of the Slave and blocking his strike. It was a risk holding the blade there with one hand, but he needed his other one to lash out with the Force for... What, the third time today? It was the same as before, he telekinetically seized the second slave and held it a solid foot off the ground. As he was still debating what to do here, he heard Voractios conversing with the Sithling who had brought an axe.

"Hey, he's not leading this coup!" Tyrin objected, infuriated that the spotlight had been wrenched from him to someone else. "Condescend to me!"

He pushed forward, shoving the slave he had locked blades with back, giving him just enough time to lob an Ethereal-Slave-gone-Ethereal-Projectile at the incumbent Emperor. Once that was done, he was swiftly forced onto the defensive again by the other Ethereal Slave.

 

[Gregor Gideon]

Gregor had not anticipated the assistance, though he was grateful for it even despite the ungainly sensation accompanying. Gregor did, however, sense a great deal of pooled power energy at his disposal; a side effect of the augmentation provided by the Sith Master @Tricia Kalamack.

The Sith Knight utilized the opportunity to push harder, to delve deeper into the minds of his allies and stoke a deeper sense of resolve, and righteous fury. The ultra-loyal Sith let his passion for the Empire burn into the very cores of their beings, so that their lightsabers choppity chopped, harder and faster both. @Krag, @Pandeima, @Balaya, @Dar'jetii, @Lord Depravious, @Ral Telon, @Marcus Faust, and @Tricia Kalamack.

Allowing himself to take in more raw power within the Force, Gregor began to creep beyond simply assisting his allies. Indeed, his power attempted to spill over into whatever kind of minds these creatures of Sith alchemy may have, as well as the mind of @[member="Darth Voracitos"] himself; attempting to insidiously whisper warnings of impending doom and failure and sapping his morale, his will to resist the challenging @[member="Tyrin Ardik"]

 

[Onrai]

Pandeima didn't really have much else to do at the moment aside from continuing to stab the somewhat immobilized slave multiple times in vital organs. In truth, it was somewhat fun, as a voice in the back of her head(which @[member="Gregor Gideon"] would hear) implied.

'Jabby jabby, stabby stabby...'

 

[Darth Voracitos]

Though @[member="Gregor Gideon"]'s Battle meditation worked wonders for strengthening his allies, he would find it well... impossible to subdue the empty heads of the Slaves, who continued to fight as they had before his mental mind games... at which he was no match for the caliber of the mentalist that Voracitos was. He smirked at his laughable attempt to invade his mind. Who did he think he was? He was at this very moment subjugating a fellow Sith's mind with all the horrors he has ever faced and he thinks that whispering defeat would be of any cause to him? He chuckled as he considered @[member="Tyrin Ardik"]'s remark.

"I don't need to condescend you Tyrin, I am already superior to you in every way.." He said with a tilt of his head, relishing his the Chaos, where all the little people thought they were winning. The cocky brats always thinking they had the upper hand. Now was the time he thought, to end this. The Slaves worked well enough, kept them back, did their job. However he underestimated the coups capabilities, they were surviving longer than expected. "But I think I will grant you the dignity of making a martyr or you... a shame too, you were useful." He said. From their, Horror spread through the room like a Plague, as the confidence granted to them from their battle mediation, was brought to a screeching halt. Plague. Horror. Drain. The Sith Master was King of Area Control, as witnessed by those present at the coup of Ashin. A fatty hand reached out as he applied a crushing darkness upon the area surrounding the usurper, so as to lower his defense's enough to grip him... to turn him into a rag doll. His laugh echoed through the chamber as chaos was unleashed. A Warrior to be haunted by his own life, a would-be King subjugated, and the most self destructive creatures in the universe brought to rest.

He was once again a Pillar or Knowledge as he had been in his beginning years of leadership. He had acquired unfathomable amount of information since then, and only on rare occasions exhibited his incredulous ability. Unlimited Access to the Sith Empires Holocrons, unlimited Knowledge of all things the Empire; knowledge was power, and he was all-knowledgeable (in his belief). The slaves still cowering in their dark corners began to unleash an inhuman scream, all around the usurpers, in unison, every slave falling to the ground their mouths agape in pain, their blood rushing to their body core as the very force that keeps them alive is torn from the bodies by an insatiable force. Hundreds in a mere instant become but mere food. The ear piercing, gut wrenching shriek ended only when ever last slave was dead, and every single Ethereal Slave was empowered by their godly Emperor.

The slaves shook once enjoying the buzz of renewed strength, and the first to suffer was @[member="Pandeima"]. The slightly confused High Commandant didn't know what to make of her anatomy but it didn't matter. Additionally, her stab happy nature didn't slow the Ethereal Slave in the slightest, he just needed to figure out a karking way to get her off. He wasn't really human any more and didn't require to eat the same way she did, and though he had blood, there was no way of knowing if he really needed a heart to continue fighting. After all, they can survive almost any dismemberment from loss of limb, and if treated in time, decapitation. The High Commandant reasoned perhaps she should be killed from afar, thus with his increased strength used telekinesis to enclose the two in huge pieces of the floor (the wrapped up slave helped some too, by refusing to let her leave as this crushed the two). @[member="Balaya"]'s Lavenrok fired (that the writer of this character doesn't even know what it is or what it does) and was summarily caught with the jagged boulder now hefted in the air. The Ethereal Slave in her arms began to feed on her life with drain while Voracitos's Plague spread about the room.

@[member="Balaya"] also subjected one of the three slaves attacking her to a nice boulder, he was fast, but still caught by it, being thrown quit a ways back while the other two charge forward again, dauntless even with her impressive arsenal. The split her attention in two direction, one intending to distract her whip from the other as a new sweep was attempted, just as the distracting Slave shot short bolts of lightning at her.

@[member=" Tricia Kalamack"] would begin to feel the drain inflicted on her by the the Slave she smashed into a wall, as well as the Voracitos's Plague. The slave continued the drain whilst he ran to her (slow by his standards) with a sword.

@[member="Ral Telon"] opponent was not thrown, he continued to cling on to the sith, whilst the strength of his lightning only continued to rise as strength from Voracitos was gained, as well as the Dark Lord's plague weakened his enemies. He was taking the beating, but like a machine showed no pain. He resisted the throwing with his grip upon a chunk of flesh on his back exposed to him by his all four stance. He broke his sword arm free, hefting the blade up to bring down and sever the dogs spine.

It would all be over soon, but who would be left on top?

 

[Caulder Dune]

@[member="Darth Voracitos"]

Tyrin sent the second slave flying as soon as he had an opening; another tactical use of Force push. He was beginning to wonder why he bothered to learn anything else. There was no time to gloat or do anything else. The longer he was kept occupied by these chumps, the longer Voractios had to do... Well, whatever it was he did. Certainly nothing too physically straining. Of that much Tyrin was safe in his assumption. He ran up the stairs this time, a sense of urgency growing within him up until the incumbent Emperor hit him with some kind of area affect attack. Force Fear. Tyrin had employed it before, he liked to think he was rather good at it. This was something of another caliber entirely. This was a crushing terror that gripped him, a feeling of helplessness and failure. What was he even doing here, fighting this guy? What a waste of time. He should have stayed on Umbara, should have been a moisture farmer.

This all-encompassing horror that tore at Tyrin's very essence gave the Umbaran usurper pause, and his ascent up the stairs slowed. He was no Emperor. He was nothing. Useless. A sham who couldn't even keep the Death Watch together. He had failed at Roche, failed at Mandalore, failed, failed, failed. What was he going to do on the throne besides fail some more? He was leading perfectly good Sith to their deaths. That's what he was doing. Instead they could have been doing something productive, like laboring towards Voractios' wishes. He knew what he was doing. When he assumed the throne, it was because the Dark Council approved. What did Tyrin have? A bunch of third-tier flunkies who-

"Did you just try to grab me?" Tyrin's own words broke him from his mental self-depredation session. It was an automatic response, more instinct than anything else, when Tyrin responded to the attack by pushing back, breaking himself free before the Emperor could fling him. Now Tyrin was just angry. "You fat bastard! The balls on you!"

Tyrin resumed his charge towards Voractios. He had something up his sleeve, but he had to get closer. Much closer. He also had to not get thrown off this staircase. There was still the nagging fear, but he shoved it into the darker recesses of his brain. He focused on his anger instead. Raw fury, limitless rage. He was not to be thrown around like some nameless mook.

 

[Darth Voracitos]

@[member="Tyrin Ardik"]

The Sith Master was only momentarily surprised. He stopped laughing a moment to realize his mental grip on Tyrin some how slipped and he was now charging his way up the stairs. His face was plain for a second as his outstretched hand remained so. He hadn't expected him to break out any time soon, he certainly didn't expect him to break out before he gripped his body, turning it into a useless rag doll. A shame too, he was going to smash him all over the place before bringing his unconscious body close enough for him to point in his face while he chided him mockingly. Oh well, he would simply have to die now. A grunt escaped his mouth as he pulled his hand back slightly before shooting it forward, a beam of pure agonizing hatred, jealousy, and contempt streamed downward to his opponent in a monstrously cackling electric arc, illuminating the room in sickly green light.

He pulled his other hand upwards, leveled with his other, as once again (his face now contorted in effort and sadistic pleasure) he pulled it back, and lurched it forward with destructive power that leaped from his finger tips at will. At a speed incomprehensible as with all Sith Lightning, the electric hell fell downward in a spiral-pattern, with many harmful arms and tendrils, condensed into a single destructive beam of pure emotion. He was silent surprisingly as he ended the life of yet another... probably. Such a brutish attack this was, in comparison to the massive energy output he was capable of spreading throughout the room. It was funny, because the amount of energy he generated in his lightning, could easily be spread all throughout the room, randomly striking in a thousand different places a thousand different times in mere moments, but yet instead he opted to condense it. This was odd, because condensation was never Voracitos's style, but of course, he must have realized it was so much more fun watching a single opponent spasm, contort, and fry to so much incredibly built up energy and power.

If he wasn't dead by the end of the torrent, he'd bring him real close to see his last dying moments as he made him relive the terrible instances of his life. When he was finished, he'd chuck the corpse in his followers faces. He would be marked as the Emperor who no one knew, could never touch, and thus could never defeat. His vision was wrong he realized, merely pent up stress generating an misplaced paranoia. There was no longer a need to hide, to cower, now he would prosper... now he would conquer like a God.

 

[Caulder Dune]

Right. Where were we?

There was seemingly little time for Tyrin to leap out of the way. The condensed bolt of electricity slammed into the spot he stood, blowing off a chunk of the staircase and turning up a massive cloud of dust. By the time the massive cloud of dust settled, there was no sign of Tyrin. If one were a casual observer, such as the aloof and rather disinterested Darth Voractios, they would assume Tyrin was now dead and gone. If one were to say they were a genre-savvy individual, then they would already know that Tyrin was, in fact, not vaporized by the lightning bolt. Such a situation was a very common trope in fight sequences as clearly lopsided as this one was. Such as when the hero falls off a cliff and the villain turns around so as to not see him climb back up again- the hero having been clinging to the edge the entire time. Although in this situation there were no heroes, just two villains duking it out over who got to play antagonist against the rest of the Galaxy.

Suffice to say, Voracitos, wrapped in his own contempt and self-assurance, was not genre-savvy. He was the farthest thing from genre-savvy that could possibly be. For while Tyrin was familiar with the mechanics of stories and the fine art of winning friends and influencing people, Voracitos was a businessman. He was also very, very fat, but that was besides the point. Or perhaps it was, considering he may not have been able to rotate his neck to see Tyrin coming in from behind him, holding a familiar looking collar in one of his hands. If he had been able to see Tyrin coming, perhaps things would have been different. But rotating his head wouldn't have secured his life anyway. The fine art of Force Cloak came innately to Tyrin. It was one of the few skills he could say he was really good at. In his younger days, when he actually got into fights and whatnot, he employed it frequently.

Now it was just security to make sure he got where he needed to be at the right time.

Collar fully extended to reveal an array of needles dripping with a Force-severing concoction, Tyrin plunged the device into the pile of flesh that most likely was Voractios' neck at some point in his life. Miraculously, the needles did pierce the fat and the concoction did seep into his clogged arteries. Voractios was an interesting man, but not just because of his vast array of plans, his intelligence, or his girth. A man as large as him required the Force to keep him alive. Otherwise he would have a heart attack and die. Kind of like what was happening right now, as Voractios found that his connection to the Force was suddenly gone. Tyrin's cloak vanished, and he took a few steps back from the spasming Emperor.

"You know, they say most people crap themselves when they die," Tyrin muttered now turning from the dead ex-Emperor and moving briskly down the steps, "I am not staying for that."

His first order as Emperor would be to send a high-powered forklift droid to dispose of the body. Then another team of droids to sanitize the throne, as Tyrin was not sure how long Voractios had been perched upon it... Or if he even moved to relieve himself. He didn't want to witness that either.

 

[Darth Voracitos]

And so it was done. Everything stopped, his eyes wide. The venom coursed through his veins as he had but a moment to contemplate what had happened. The force left him quickly, as if it was a swarm of insects or rodents scuttling quickly away from some terrible thing, that before they had no chance of escaping. Tyrin defeated a god by a gods own invention, not because he was the smartest the most cunning, the bravest or strongest, but because he was lucky, and because fate decided it was time for order and stagnation to end in this Empire. Now was the time of struggle and change.

Voracitos in his final moments was a furnace of hatred, as he remembered long back to when Ashin had come before the Throne, where he watched her bloodlessly claim it. How long ago in their duel that wounded his pride, she had used against him a pillar from the throne of the Empire and he had destroyed. Oh how angry was he when she did that, made him do that. He had contemplated the action then, and decided it was some sort of metaphorical meaning, because at the time he had been known as the Pillar of Knowledge still, so then he began to fear a prophecy not spoken in words but through actions... his actions. From then on he was destined to become his own undoing.

It was true. In his attempts to control the Empire totally, he had created the one device in all of the galaxy that held the ability to kill him instantly. It worked so beautifully, but still it merely sowed resentment and anger for his age old enemy. The one he challenged, the one who struck him down, and the one he in turn struck as well, but he knew she was still alive, that he had failed, as all things he did while she lived failed in the end. Curse her, for she shall die one day, and he vowed he would be there in one form or another to witness it.

His corpse finally slumped as the new Emperor left. The corpse was no longer capable of communication with the force, but this did nothing to stop his spirit from burning through its casing, to find itself a new one. High in the sky, where no man lives or works for the Empire, a city of machines and stone, floating among the stars, the Ghost of Voracitos found a home inside the Holocron of the Emperor, where his rage was put to good use in dominating the Corrupted Shards within.

The Ghost Ship of Voracitos, The Girth of Gluttony, drifted into space as the eternal furnace of hate towards Ashin Varanin...

~FIN~