Public A Feast Most Foul: The Great Sith Gathering [OPEN TO ALL SITH/ ATTN: ALL SITH]

[Darth Strosius]

Surprisingly the ever-growing amount of Sith, each with varying levels of power and prestige, had yet to culminate into some form of fighting. Go figure, maybe this little party won't be near as violent as I thought. There was still a part of him that was appalled at the sight of heretical and traitorous Sith just walking around nonchalantly, but he knew better than that. He was far too weak to make any sort of difference if a fight was to break out anyway. The very sight of some of these Sith was enough to make his head ache with their presence in the Force.

It was all almost too overwhelming, if he was honest.

Alisteri soon found himself leaning against a wall even further from the crowds than he had been a moment ago, his fingers idly wrapping around the hilt of his lightsabre that was still clipped to his belt. It was some small sense of comfort. The booming and domineering voice of Darth Solipsis cut through any small sense of relief or comfort that he had gotten though.

The presence of the host and the tone of his voice were the only two things that were really impressive though. His stature was weak feeble, but he could sense that it hid power underneath. A clever ruse, but one that would only really work on those not blessed with any ability to feel the Force. His words did little to sway him either. They sounded impressive at least, especially when accompanied by an ominous feel of dread. To his ears though it sounded no different to the rhetoric that he had heard before, the rhetoric that had come from many of these Sith that had forsaken the Empire. A bunch of Sith Lords grabbing for power and spouting out victories against the wrong enemy.

At least these ones have the decency to try and play nice with fellow Sith.

For now anyway.

The next thing he knew his vision was suddenly not that great at all, evidently being clouded by dust and rubble. The sound of a Mandalorian charge bent on revenge accompanied the explosion that blew open an entrance for them. Alisteri himself had apparently been standing a little bit close to the explosion and was currently occupied with pulling himself out of the rubble.

Fething parties. They never go well, I don't know why I expect them to. At the very least, he had a very potent distraction while the important Sith jousted with words.

Tags: (sorry for the ping everyone I'm just doing what I see other peeps doing)
Kascalion Giedfield / Chimera / Darth Vinaze / Vora Kaar / Maestus / Darth Carnifex / Taeli Raaf / Darth Bellum / Darth Howl / Beltran Rarr / First Sister / Malel Mal'gurith / Rax Tremira / Kalt Bruq / Pom Stych Tivé / Darth Petrichor / Rynn Vizsla / Pre / Jair Ordo / Milla Kryst

 

[First Sister]

Location: Fortress Vader - Mustafar
Wearing: Sith Robes │ Dark Cloak
Tags: Darth Carnifex Beltran Rarr Rax Tremira Kascalion Giedfield

Standing next to her God, the tiny electromancer watched the proceedings of the feast shift from ominous to outright violent with keen, inquisitive eyes, taking in the scene of various powerful Sith Lords making grand proclamations. Te scene of the Devil holding the Dark Saint's decapitated head and proclaiming the now deceased woman as weak called her attention. To see the Arch-Heretic, now deceased, if her Sense and eyes were not lying to her, brought a chill to her heart. A being so powerful, now ridiculed in death, compelled the Sister to bear witness, even if she had not known the woman in life. After all, the Dark Saint had once stood where she did now, as an apprentice to the Eternal Father, Darth Carnifex. A part of her wanted to view it as righteous punishment for being a heretic, which Sister chose willingly to embrace, even if another part told her that the Dark Saint's death was likely a far more complicated affair.

All the while, the aura of violence and death slowly grew closer to the area of the feast itself. The deep, paternal voice of her master informed her of the source, Mandalorians, barbarians in beskar chanting in savage tongues. Having never faced them before, the Sister was curious, but she held to the directive of her master and remained close to his imposing figure.

However, her master’s magnificent, divine presence did not deter the one she had sensed earlier from intruding into her mind, his telepathic voice laced with Darkness and eerie portents. Immediately, the Sister turned in the direction of the voice, her eyes eventually finding a shrouded figure within the shadows of the room.

In a feast of carrion-eaters, heretics, and other conniving characters, the Sister could not be surprised to find herself faced with one such individual who was potentially of that nature. However, she had not expected her activities on Sev Tok to follow her so quickly, especially to here of all places.

“Look who’s asking.” Her telepathic voice answered the man in what could be construed as a sarcastic tone. “I might ask the scorpion why it stung the frog.” She continued.

“Though, I think you already know who I serve. I’m not exactly being very subtle, standing right next to him, after all. Might I ask the same of you?”

 

[Darth Vinaze]

A sinking emotion radiated through his spirit as Kascalion opened the box. He had known the severed head of his Lady had been amongst them. He could feel it. The pulses through the force that felt like dull knives against him. He’d witnessed her death firsthand. She alone had been the catalyst for the Schism. Now it was time for another to step up. That one was Solipsis. Whether he would be a unifier, a conqueror, or if he’d simply perpetuate these wars of religion, was yet to be seen.

The time for action had come, and the time for discussion had gone by in a heartbeat. An afterthought. But alas, that was the way of the Sith. More power stood in this room than anywhere in the galaxy, at perhaps any time since the Rakatan Empire.

Though he faded away into the immaterial aether, he remained observant as he became one with the shadows. That is what he had always been: the observer. Never in his life had a single bone in his body wished for the power that these men clambered over one another for, and in death he cared even less. One thing rang true through all the speeches. The theme of futility. Only each of these ideologues thought futility rested with their enemies, blind to the fact that they too were in the midst of futile endeavors themselves.

A Warlord, Darth Petrichor, piqued his interest first and foremost. Vinaze was unfamiliar with the man, unaware of his standing in the halls of power. But regardless of his stature this man possessed the same bravado to challenge the status-quo as the other great Sith in the room, and without the same hopeful naivete that clouded the rest. Yet, Vinaze was unsure if unity was the solution, or even an option. Nobler goals had turned into fool’s errands.

The arrival of the Worm Emperor drew his attention next, whose worm-subjects wriggled and spread their filth across Korriban. Everything that the Warlords could save had been when they withdrew from the planet. It wasn’t much, but it was still the legacies of the Sith with which they were burdened to carry. Everything else touched by the Worms, bearing their heretical stench, was forfeit. The Worm’s accusations fell on deaf ears. No one in the room could possibly cause more discord amongst these disparate factions.

War, it seemed, was… inevitable. Unchanging.

Even with so much power, near-god's among men standing meters apart, they were like helpless lambs to the slaughter. Paralyzed. Seeing who would make the first move when a whole hand had been played by the Mandalorians minutes ago...

Darth Carnifex | Kascalion Giedfield | Aspect of Passion | First Sister | Malel Mal'gurith | Taeli Raaf | Kalt Bruq | Rax Tremira | Malel Mal'gurith | Darth Howl | Darth Strosius | Maestus | Darth Bellum | Beltran Rarr | Pom Stych Tivé @too many damn people to tag, sorry Mandos​

 

[Darth Solipsis]

U N N A T U R A L

THE DARK VOICE | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW
NEW SITH ORDER

​

Darth Solipsis, newly self-proclaimed Dark Lord of the Sith and Voice of the Maw, looked on gleefully as a mixed range of emotions befell the crowd. His feeble twisted form lurched forward, there was an air of menace around him despite the warm veneer he gave off. Eyes boiling with dark intensity and yellow hued fire pierced into the crowd like daggers. He studied the Sith before him and found them wanting, weak, only the strong would survive the coming days. There were pockets of strength throughout those gathered, individuals strong in the Dark Side and full of potential that was hampered by the survival of the others. Awe, fear, disgruntled resentment, and outright anger gripped hold of those gathered in the aftermath of his words. They knew not the struggle that awaited them soon, a civil war no longer, it would become a bloodbath or better yet an extermination. The Great Culling would soon be upon them.

Boom.

An explosion rocked their surroundings, upsetting the dust and settled rock as debris rained down upon the mass gathering from above. Mandalorians. Death Watch Crusaders. They had come to claim vengeance for Mandalore and the slaughter of their people, they had come to claim Sith blood. Good, right on time. Their defiance would help thin the herd and aid in stemming some of the weak from escape. Mighty Darth Carnifex reacted as expected on the Emperor Emeritus, with savage glee. The All-Consumer rose to the occasion on his own accord looking to add chain codes to his growing collection. It was at this moment that Darth Solipsis 's greatest rival and ally, Kascalion Giedfield the Devil himself, came forward with a very special surprise of his own.

Finding himself in agreement with the Dark Lord's words, the Dark Sovereign and Devil incarnate stepped forward.

"You call, Solipsis, for a new day of the Sith and our ways. I can only agree with you, as I and my closest compatriots of the Warlords...feel the same. So allow me to offer the first sacrifice on that path to a glorious renewal."

Old gleeful eyes set upon the Devil himself in dark anticipation, the Elder leaned against his walking stick and looked upon the veiled sacrifice.

The Devil's hands reached inside the device and pulled forth the sacrifice. Blue and black skin greeted the onlookers, as did the golden crown and ornaments that adorned it. Makeup and markings unmarred, her eyes were closed as if peacefully sleeping, but her mouth was pulled into a disgruntled frown like she was aware of her death and felt some remaining parts of emotions about it. Her lekku were undamaged - surprisingly - and the cut of her neck was clean and cauterized, implying that her death was either uncontested or so quick that she had little chance to defend against it. This was the fate of those who had fallen to the curse.

The first casualty of the Sith Purge, the Dark Saint of the Sith, Darth Voyance. The Elder nodded in approval upon the worthy sacrifice and clasped his hands together. “My my.”

"May I present her esteemed Oracle of Ventooine, the Eye of Voss, and Dark Saint of the Sith...Darth Voyance. Some of you may have known her, some of you certainly did know her, and some of you certainly did not know her. Here is the shortened story: Voyance was a weakling and a coward who had too long soiled the integrity of the Sith. She is the first sacrifice this day and if you stand as a true Sith...you are prepared to do what I did and make more."

A sick grin of sadistic amusement spread across his lips as he chuckled under his breath. The Devil issued his challenge, laying down the truth to come with grim resolve. There was no running, no hiding from what was to come. This was no civil war, it was no an extermination and the weak would forever be purged so a new order could grow from the wreckage. The previous ideals of empire and blind unity would be discarded so that a new strong Order could emerge.

"Weakness... what do you know of weakness?"

The Dark Lord of the Sith shifted his gaze slowly to the heretic, Darth Petrichor , among their ranks. He spoke to them and fired back against their beliefs with willful defiance. He spat on the very foundations set down by those such as Darth Bane and Zannah.

"What happened on Csilla was unnecessary, brutal, and pointless. How many worlds need to die because of your desire for power? How many more must suffer simply because the egos of the Sith refuse to be satiated? It needs to end. No more of the needless bloodshed. No more of these petty squabbles and pointless wars."

The Dark Lord smiled with sinister intent beneath the warm veneer of his cold grin.

“All of them. Every last one if need be. A new dawn is coming, a final dawn, but not for you child..”

"Such an oddity."

Better late than never. The illusive Worm Emperor had appeared, a mysterious figure steeped in mythos of the resurgent Sith Eternal, another claimant to the title of Sith'ari. Power coursed through this figure, it commanded legions of it's own and held sway over the homeworld of the Sith. The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed as they shifted and focused on the wretched creature, it was no more Sith'ari than any other, only mighty Darth Bane had lived up to such prestigious legacy and to claim otherwise was hubris of the highest form, especially when none of the prophecy fell upon it. At least not yet.

Standing in the rear alongside his Praetorian Guard as the crowd began to debate amongst themselves, they remained alert to any dangers to their master.

"Whenever meetings such as these take place, throughout time immemorial, Sith of no caliber rise from the earth like worms to feast on our dying corpses. Then, when they have gorged their nonsensically large ego's they speak out with titles such as 'God', 'Dark Lord', and 'True Sith'."

Shadows glided through the chamber, the Dark Lord chuckled under his breath and spread his grin from ear to ear as what seemed to be a thousand voices emerged from the vessel before him.

"So many speak of such vague terms - of crushing weakness, ushering in the new age, squashing pointless feuds; but these are shallow examples of the plan. A thousand Sith before you have said the same, ignorant of the true depth of the Dark Side and only beholden to their incessant need to parrot their betters without truly understanding the words they speak. Now, as we sit here, once more does it occur - with children using the weaponized words of the Sith like they own them."

Tap. Tap. Tap. The Sith Master set upon the floor with his walking stick as if building up the Worm's speech.

"If you wish us to rebuild our Order, then we ask in what ways. Would we subscribe to the Death Cult of the Maw who's corrupted rhetoric descends from the Rhand, or those who foolishly sided themselves with the New Imperial Order only to be crushed under their synth-rubber bootheel?"

The Elder clasped his hands together and clapped admirably. He addressed the Worm Emperor Aspect of Passion ,

“Ah. The False God shows, the great pretender, emperor of rubble and sand. It is lovely to see you’ve graced us with your presence after coddling your neighbors for so long. Your greatest weakness seems to be a lack of vision apart from your hypocritical hubris."

His hands slid from the sleeves draped over his arms and parted before him in gesture, "The Brotherhood of the Maw is a means to an end, a hammer to crack open a stagnant galaxy, they are not Sith, an obvious sight lost upon one with multiple sets of eyes. The New Sith Order is all that matters now. While you were busy playing empire with a reprint of Darth Carnifex 's former project.. we laid the groundwork for something new. We seek to restore Sith Dominance across the galaxy and mend the broken Order through stealth, patience, and power. The success of these New Sith will be their adaptability and devotion to the Grand Plan as well as their strict adherence to the Code of the Sith. Their presence will be felt everywhere, they will act together in accordance to the furthering of the Grand Plan to ensure Sith Dominance. They will slay their master and take on the mantle, they will succeed me..."

​

The Dark Lord chuckled with dark grimace, dagger-like eyes set upon the tall masked bastion of darkness as his hands set forward with rigor mortis claws. “..your power will fuel that of the true Dark Lord of the Sith." Gritting his teeth he lashed out, strands of invisible tendrils stretching forth across the expanse toward the Worm. The empyrean energies attempted to draw life Force energy from the wretched creature at it's source toward the Elder with immeasurable strength of it's own to match that of the dark will of the Worm. Strands of transparent streams of energy would dance between the duo as the Dark Lord attempted to drain the Sith Eternal's savior into a shallow husk where he stood.

 

[Darth Bellum]

W O L V E S
[ Theme ]
​

| Location | Mustafar, Castle Vader​

| Purpose | Observation​

​

Ironic how the Oracle amongst them who claimed to see all had little foresight enough to perceive their own demise. Such shortsightedness was the ultimate downfall of one who claimed such a title, as death would come to the deathless and weakness would fall upon the strong. As the Sith amongst them began to speak a shadowy seat would appear, like black flames shaped in a throne as the spirit of Bellum took its seat, leaning back with his skull-like head resting on a fist. It amused the apparition that there were still those among the Sith that ever believed that titles such as Emperor or Dark Lord of the Sith held any valuable meaning within recent memory.

His figure was wreathed in dark flames as he observed - How far had such a title had fallen and been dredged in mud? Bestowed upon the weak and unworthy cowards who all squabbled for it like it were to grant them any sort of power. It like the title of Manda'lor had become a title of shame more than anything, and for any to bend their knee to those who would claim the title without forcing those around them to subjugate to their might and will was pointless.

Hollow eyes fell upon the individuals of the room, watching them speak amongst one another. Those who spoke of vision and ambition while the skeptics argued the possibility of them being achieved, or the senile that simply stated the obvious. Those who spoke and lacked ambition should remain silent in his eyes, for the Sith had grown fat and lethargic settling for just enough while forgetting their base instincts and the ancestry that their order had been built upon.

For such simple roots to have become corrupt and bastardized since their creation came off as little more than disappointment. Those who wished to remain at the current pace were weak, incapable of having the confidence to strive for greater heights, to grasp for power just beyond their reach - Was it foolish for one to crave more power? Perhaps, but the strength that those bold enough to seize it would push them even further beyond. He need not speak his own thoughts though - it was clear that the sheep amongst them would simply choose to ignore it like they always had. Only actions would sway those who remained on the fence between ambition and lethargy.

Their more recent downfall had only been brought upon by their inaction and their ineptitude to realize that change was needed. When the Worm spoke out it only caused a harsh grating chuckle to emanate from the spirit of war. Perhaps it was their own lack of understanding that amused him or perhaps it was their ignorance of the current state of the power balance. For it to speak as if it was wise beyond all of those present to spout the same nonsense without recognizing that forces such as NIO which had devasted and continued to ravage the Sith Empire were still one to be respected just spoke volumes to its incompetence. Bellum was after all the one who had helped forge the foundations and fostered the hatred that their leader Irveric Tavlar harbored towards Sith - His greatest pawn in testing the resolve of the Sith and for spreading conflict amongst the stars - and perhaps the only opportunity that created a divide within the Sith ranks for the Sith Eternal to become remotely relevant. And even yet - what had they really done to carve their stake in the galaxy? Clawing for scraps at the crumbling base of the Sith Empire?

The refusal to recognize a threat was a weakness that one could easily exploit, and ineptitude to see the larger picture was simply setting the stages for their own demise - those who refused to consume, evolve, and adapt would simply become prey feasted upon predators. A bottom feeder foraging for scraps had no place in the Galaxy, especially to those that would claim the title of Sith. This was made evident as Darth Solipsis attempted to assimilate the would-be emperor of the Sith Eternal before everyone present.​

​

 

[Darth Howl]

FORTRESS VADER
MUSTAFAR

​

Pandemonium reigned. Zym was amused.

"It would seem a grand kaggath has been declared."

Something about this so called Worm Emperor defied his fine tuned precognition. The darkside creature's interruption had been an unexpected and most diverting affair. He made no move to recoil in horror from the grisly trophy Kascalion Giedfield still held nor join any of the others in repelling the Death Watch assault. Instead the kel dor produced a seven-string hallikset from his robes and plucked a few to assess its pitch.

"This is an old folk tune," Gnost whispered to Darth Vinaze who could not have possibly seemed less interested in music trivia at this precise moment, "but the arrangement is mine."

While Darth Solipsis struck out at the Worm ( Aspect of Passion ) he strung and plucked at the opening refrain to an appropriately epic ballad. Now this was a real Sith gathering. There had to be at least one attempted murder and mandalorian barbarians certainly didn't count. A flutter surged through him that Zym fondly recognized as fear. So many shifting variables to consider. It would be an ignominious demise. He recalled his earlier words to Kascalion.

What's life without a little risk?

 

[Aspect of Passion]

Solipsis power would slam against a wall in the Force as the Worm Emperor stood unwavering; what power he mustered meeting only the harsh reality of the Worm's marbled presence within the Force. He who had made children of some of the greatest Sith of their time - he who had already brought the likes of Morrow, Vulcanus, Judas of Vahl, and Maliphant to heel; who had demanded the attention of Carnifex and Decimus. Who's very presence had forced the collective strength of half the Jedi in the galaxy to fight his singular strength on Ossus; and Solipsis would feel just how titantic that presence was as none other could.​

​

The Worm, for those watching, would utter a deep and gutteral laugh bouncing off metallic masks - many voices overlapping as the newly self proclaimed Dark Lord attempted to consume the essence of the Worm; but he would not move from his place, even as the Praetorians around him began to draw their weapons and collect their own strength. They would not move, however, already focused on the crowd for would be partners in Solipsis's efforts at deicide.​

​

"You speak through the veil of ignorance, Darth Solipsis, but we can not discount your courage. We only wish it were better placed - in understanding the truth depth of the Dark Side, the true purpose of the Sith. For who you worship, we know intimately, and for who you claim our better - we have already surpassed."​

​

For Solipsis, he would feel the surge of the Worm's presence. Just as Vulcanus had faced during his canonization ritual, Solipsis would witness a glimpse of who the Worm truly was; a thousand faces, of Sith thousands of years in the making, some of which he would recognize and many he would not. Each carried their own violent grin, corrupted crimson tinged sulphuric eyes watching him struggle, just as each of their mouths moved in unison to match the Worm's words. Where one began and the next ended was nigh impossible to truly differentiate; overwhelmed by the sheer volume of their souls.​

​

"If you wish to lead the Sith, learn as Vulcanus does. Understand the teachings of the Sepulchral, plant the seeds of knowledge in the dirt - and rise as my successor; but killing a planet does not make you my equal. It only fueled the hubris you now suffer from."​

​

Darth Solipsis​

 

[Darth Solipsis]

U N N A T U R A L

THE DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
NEW SITH ORDER

Tag: Aspect of Passion

​

The Dark Lord tugged at the strings of that bound from the Worm Emperor like a leech sucking at the life force of it's host, a parasite upon the unwavering Worm Emperor. It was odd that his power slammed into him so, the powers that be denying him his prize as the False Sith'ari of No Names stood defiant. His presence dawned on him, the being attempting to project his power to wash over the Sith Master with grandstanding grandeur. He felt the pressure weight down on him, crashing into the iron will of the Elder as his presence swallowed his surroundings in the Force whole like a collapsing star, rebuking that of the Worm's efforts as he forced his will upon it.

This wretched creature, try as he might, would find himself in deadlock with the Dark Voice. The Sith Master had survived far worse from far more terrible beings and emerged to fight another day, notably the most powerful being the long slain 'Immortal' Dark Lord of the One Sith who's reign of terror nearly brought the galaxy to heel. His life had been conflict personified, filled with a shared history of events that long preceded this false Sith'ari and his attempts to cow others to his religious dogma.

"You speak through the veil of ignorance, Darth Solipsis, but we can not discount your courage. We only wish it were better placed - in understanding the truth depth of the Dark Side, the true purpose of the Sith. For who you worship, we know intimately, and for who you claim our better - we have already surpassed."

Darth Solipsis would feel the surge of the Worm's presence, flexing upon him with the visage of a thousand faces, a thousand souls culminating to him. Each face casting a wicked scowl or foul grin his way with the strength pressing forward in struggle against the Elder's own Force presence as each mouth spoke in unison with the Worm's own words. For Solipsis, a dark sense of amusement fell over him as he broke out into a mad fit of laughter uncharacteristically as he summoned the dark reserves of his strength and unsung hatred long kept at bay.

"If you wish to lead the Sith, learn as Vulcanus does. Understand the teachings of the Sepulchral, plant the seeds of knowledge in the dirt - and rise as my successor; but killing a planet does not make you my equal. It only fueled the hubris you now suffer from."

"There is a defining trait that separates a Dark Jedi from a Sith. Heh. A Sith lacks fear, and I sense much fear in you. A thousand souls set against my power, a thousand faces that you claim." A spark of laughter guttered forth, "You seek to cow what you cannot control or defeat on your own accord. I do not want your empire but I'll take your life along with your friends'. You stifle progress, you are the antithesis of the Sith'ari."

The Elder tensed his form and gazed upon the Worm with daggers piercing into it's flesh. His presence a flexing, frightening force that draws in many who glare into the eyes of the consumptive void that was Solipsis. The awfulness that was his vile glare carved into it's wretched form as his mind unhinged from it's material roots and stretched out into the empyrean.

"A thousand souls, a thousand fears."

The more the Worm spoke the greater the resolve the Elder accumulated as he gleaned more and more signs of weakness from his opponent. It was foolish to give your opponent ammunition to use against you. At that moment the Dark Lord of the Sith enforced his will upon the False God, attempting to force him into a Memory Walk to relieve the past lives he suffered and claimed as his own.

 

[Aspect of Passion]

Grand and intoxicating, the sheer presence of the Worm seemed in itself an attack upon Solipsis; but it was not. The Worm stood passive, and only in Solipsis's mind did he find true resistance; no matter the strength he had assumed of himself. The Worm once more stood unmoving, as he had a hundred kaggaths before, a thousand lives prior - even as the 'Memory Walk' was attempted to break the thousand wills of the collective God of the Eternal.​

​

"Often Sith well versed in Dun Moch attempt to state theories and possibilities as asserted facts; that the opponent is fearful, that they are weak. One does it to undermine their opponent just as much as they do it to convince themselves of their superiority.", the Worm offered casually.​

​

"You've said you see a thousand weaknesses - but the Seventh Day Emperor saw them too. You hope to consume our being individually, but have not yet gleamed the unification you bear witness to. For all you claim to witness, you have yet to realize the singular truth of my existence."​

​

"That we are eternal, the very culmination of the Sith Order standing before you - and you hope to undo it with paltry spells."​

​

The Worm slowly raised his left hand from the robe - spindly and elongated, it looked more bone than being. Carved ebony wrapped fingers slowly tightened around the grasp of the Force Solipsis intended to impart on the Worm; and like a vice, began to cut it off until it gasped for breath in his presence, fought to stay alive facing the Left Handed God.​

​

"Tell me, Darth Solipsis, what weakness do you see? Is it fear - one of the very powers that give a Sith their strength? Perhaps it is hubris, that we are convinced of ascension with no ground - yet stand before the Sith untested. For all your grandstanding, your willful ignorance, you've declared yourself the Dark Lord and do not even understand the very foundation you've stood upon."​

​

"One kaggath of a Dark Lord does not the Sith'ari make. One planet pales in comparison to the overwhelming nature of the Force - and we, Darth Solipsis, are more the Force than you can truly comprehend."​

​

Darth Solipsis​

 

[Dario Kryze]

Location: Fortress Vader

Objective: Take no prisoners​

Dario felt the nerves creep up on him for the first time in a while, even to the point of his hand starting to shake. It was strange... his hand hadn't shaken like this since he was a young man. This was far from his first combat scenario, but for some reason, his hairs stood up as they approached the fortress. Something was nagging at him, but he couldn't put his finger on it...

It didn't matter once the plan was set into motion. His brothers of the Death Watch set their charges as he hung back, watching their flank for any potential threats. He carried a long range blaster rifle, but knew that he would inevitably be switching to his pistol once the shooting started. Eventually, the charges were set, and the countdown began...

3...
2...
1...

The explosion blew a nice, large hole in the side of the fortress wall. His companions began pouring in, ready to began their attack. Dario was one of the last through the breach, taking one last look around their perimeter, just to be certain they weren't about to get caught in a crossfire. Once he was sure, he finally followed the others. Their initial entrance was met with little resistance, no doubt due to the fact that the Sith weren't expecting such an attack. Their hubris prevented them from even entertaining the thought... typical Sith arrogance. He continued pushing through the halls, along side his brethren. As they moved, he felt it again... the nerves...

That's when he saw him.

The towering Sith in Mandalorian armor had just killed one of their number, and was making his way for them in the halls. The beskar may have covered his face, but there was no mistaking his voice...

"Khamul..."

His brother had long been on this dark path, and had long since been branded a traitor to Mandalore. Dario wasn't a traitor, but the blood he shared with Khamul had made his life difficult. Living in the shadow of a traitor meant that Dario had to work twice as hard every single day, just to prove that he was worthy of his armor. He raised his blaster rifle up, ready to take the shot...

Then... he froze.

Knowing that he was about to fire on his own flesh and blood clouded his mind, keeping him from pulling the trigger. Luckily, one of his comrades managed to snap him out of his haze, motioning for him to move down another hallway. A second group of fellow crusaders was making their way for the main banquet hall, and Dario was meant to follow. He immediately joined them, trying his best to focus on the mission.

As they approached the other side of the wall leading to the gathering of Sith, Dario took position, once again covering their backs. His comrades set another charge, which promptly exploded, sending rock and metal through the air, and into the banquet hall. The Mandalorians began pouring in, taking shots at the closest of the Sith. Dario quickly scanned the room, searching for any known high-level targets. That's when he saw Kascalion Giedfield , holding up the severed head of a Twi'lek, no doubt another victim of the savagery of the Sith. Suddenly, the nerves had completely disappeared. His head was clear, and his aim was steady. He immediately took two shots at the target, advancing through the breach alongside his fellow Crusaders.

Today, he would truly prove his mettle to the Death Watch.

Rynn Vizsla Jair Ordo Pre Milla Kryst​

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Darth Carnifex | Taeli Raaf | Darth Solipsis | Darth Vinaze | Darth Bellum | Chimera | Maestus | Darth Howl | Beltran Rarr | First Sister | Malel Mal'gurith | Rax Tremira | Vora Kaar | Darth Petrichor | Kalt Bruq | Darth Strosius | Pom Stych Tivé | Khamul Kryze | Jaeger Harrsk | Rynn Vizsla | Pre | Jair Ordo | Milla Kryst
​

The reveal of the Eye of Voss's disembodied head would have done wonderfully had it only served to send a message to the gathered Sith. Acted as the punctuation on his speech of weakness and integrity of Sithdom. But, there was something else as well. Something Kavar had tirelessly worked to keep hidden from those around him - even his allies - through parlor tricks - tricking himself, lying to himself. He did this, all of this because he knew that the delights that came with even thinking of the "something else" would tip off any Sith worth their grain of salt in sensing the internal workings of those near them.

It was the admission - and the sickened and strangely furious joy - that, at the end of the day, this feast was not solely for the culling of the False Sith who had for so long distorted what it meant to be a user of the Dark Side and a child of the Force. For Kavar, this day was not only for the complete and utter purification of cursed bloodlines, as it was for Solipsis - although this was an enormous benefit to what the Devil had in store. It was not exclusively to see the eradication of the decayed heritages that had pushed so much rot into the marrow of the Force that to merely stand was an effort it could no longer maintain. Most importantly, the death of Darth Voyance was not so abjectly simple as to merely be the "first sacrifice" on the road to a better future for the Sith, no matter what the Devil outwardly stated or thought. That, and his entire speech, was mere theatre, which is something he found himself loving more and more since Csilla. No, her death saw something greater happen and would see greater things come to pass in the coming years.

The purpose here was so much more. It was for the Devil to begin his plan that would change the very fabric of not just the Dark Side, but the Force entirely.

Of course, actually reaching this point in time had been the end goal on a path that the Devil had paved for himself and for those he called allies or useful tools. The origin of this is of some conjecture, as most things with the Devil are, but most could agree on four possible beginnings. The most recent one would be when he clashed with Irveric Tavlar on Csilla, sundering ice and earth with such ferocity that the world was to be forever scarred if it survived that war.

The second possible source and the most agreed-upon of this paved path would be when he crusaded Malachor V with his Dread Crusaders and the Warlords. The very place where he charged the depths of Trayus Academy, reclaimed himself from the Netherworld's endless labyrinth of dismay, and slew the corporeal form of the Corruptor, Darth Vinaze.

Some would say that the third possible beginning would be when he met Solipsis on Ninn and felt the power of the Brotherhood's Dark Voice first hand. And, of course, when saw the potential for the Maw with his very own eyes as Rynn's Hollow crumbled around them like a body of ash.

And the final, and the most aggressively debated, of the four options would be when he met The Grim Lady so many years ago. It was her who had found him after his abandonment of the Sith Empire, and it was by her hand that his belief in his own Godhood - a belief that he had held since he was but a child millennia ago - had been restored. Because of her, Kascalion sought the end of himself and the rise of Kavar Lok Kas'oni.

Regardless of the origin, the end goal had been reached and now the plan was to be put into motion. The necessary deaths would be made as Solipsis had intended, and Kavar had simultaneously decided were necessary. Their energies would be absorbed by Mustafar's evil, and then by the Devil who would take them screaming into Hell. And from there...only a madman could imagine what would happen specifically. They would only that the Devil's deepest desire was satisfied and that the Rebirth came to pass. And the Devil only had the Dark Voice to thank.

His attention turned, now, to the sounds of battle emanating from beyond the entrance of the feasting hall. While Solipsis and his dogs would deal with those in the hall, the Devil was to expel the invaders and cut down the fools who sought to flee or could not hold back the breach. The blackened, blue-streaked fingers gripping the cranium of Voyance loosened, allowing the dead flesh to fall from his grasp. However, as he had done with his pockets and pouches not minutes prior, the Devil moved his hands and fingers in flashes as the head fell, and a single strand of the black smoke that was wrapped around his right palm remained tethered to the skull of Voyance. A smile crossed his face underneath his royal purple mask when he kicked the disembodied head underneath the table - a slight chuckle accompanying it. With a light tug after a few seconds, the strand returned to its master, pulling something from within Voyance's skull into the charred palm of Kavar's left hand.

It was a shadowy thing with a red center, spherical and ethereal, and rested motionlessly over his palm. In that same second, Kavar snapped-shut his hand, and the orb burst into several parts like a heart, the red center burning itself into the Devil's hand like a gem before melting away from the heat of his blood. The ethereal shadows whipped and frothed in tides under a dead moon before straightening as arrows and piercing Kavar's forearm. They sank with precision into his muscles and streamed through his veins. While this happened, Voyance's once peaceful eyes opened, a glassy gaze now locked onto the Sith standing where Darth Vinaze had once stood before his return to the aetheric realm the Devil had ascended him to out of the kindness of his blackthorn heart.

Content with what he had just done - a vile thing - he moved away, quick and nimble for his titanic size just as Solipsis bravely engaged the Worm Emperor who had entered the hall like a field of death. Roars and commands and speeches resumed in lustrous fury, accompanied by sparks of power and united noises from the throngs of Sith that watched the two giants of the Force clash.

The Devil only gave a nod to those he knew to be on his side and began to remove parts of his attire, his steps now taking him towards the entrance of the feasting hall, the ill intent of his desires set towards the invaders who so dared to interrupt these proceedings with their ambushing treachery. First were the pauldrons and gorget that protected his shoulders and neck. Then the baubles and straps that were almost threaded around his chest and waist, likely there to defend against ranged attacks or smaller weapons. Then the half-tabard that covered his torso's left side, letting it fall to the obsidian floor without any care for its majestic weavings. Suddenly, his legs ceased their ent-like movements as the flames of unholy sight fell upon the form of a beskar warrior. A man he did not know initially, but would later come to know as Dario Kryze .

The Devil let out a small sigh as he stood there, focusing in such a way as to have his perception of time slow to a crawl so that he could do what he would have done later on anyways. They had broken through the lines of defending and fleeing Sith, shattered the phalanx with their righteous fury that came with the cause of killing all of their ilks. Something clicked in his head, a snap-switch of emotions that went from calm and collected to a confident rage that knew only the barriers that itself had put up.

"And so Devil and God stand in full panoply of war. Ascended from His and Mine Hells, eyes scarred and bleeding flames of days gone. Marching to the tragedy that arrives with towering waves of quieting light," he said to himself with clear anger in his tone, feeling the surge of power envigorate his very soul.

Time quickened in fearful steps just as the first two shots from the Mandalorian rang out in screams of angelic death, provoking the Devil to turn and backstep to his right in an attempt to dodge the plasmic bolts. One missed and one skinned the fabrics of his upper robe, tearing it open at the center. A harsh reminder that while fast and capable of resisting some direct shots to his body, he would never truly be faster than a Mandalorian's trigger finger. Even a youngling, if the polished armor of this Crusader was anything to go by. And he had no intention of testing the true limits of his body's resistance against emboldened and blood-lusted Crusaders. He had to be creative, and keep his surprising agility on the offensive.

Thus, the Devil was prompt in removing the greaves that covered his shins and the sabatons that protected his feet. His form was heavy, and the extra clothing and armor would only slow him down - something he re-learned from the armor he wore on Csilla against Irveric Tavlar. The talons of his toes clacked against the cold floor while his bones cracked away their stiffness. At that same instant, another Mandalorian - equally fresh like the one who fired first - attacked him in volleys of three hateful crimson bolts.

Only the intervention of a thick steel chair utilized as a shield kept him from suffering those blasts, and a hard discus throw of what remained at the unarmored throat took that particular man out of the equation. Swiftly, the Devil then charged - armorless and weaponless - at the Mandalorian who had fired first. His thunderous steps leaving imprints in the flooring, Kavar bent down while reaching forward to wrap his arms around the Crusader's legs. He would, if successful, lift the man up and slam him down onto his back where he could then rain down a series of strikes to beat him into submission - and hopefully death.

 

[Jair Ordo]

S H O W S T O P P E R
MUSTAFAR
RIFLE | VAMBRACES | LIGHTSABER | JETPACK
TO ENGAGE: Khamul Kryze
ALLIES: Milla Kryst | Rynn Vizsla | Pre | Dario Kryze

"Bold of you to come here."

A familiar chill came from down the hall. The pain, the scars, the memories of Ninn came rushing back in a hurried frenzy. Enough to make Jair stop in his tracks.

The Crusaders continued their charge down the hallway. They showed no fear, even when running into certain doom. Jair, however, still stood frozen. Why? He had faced the Sith warrior before. He knew his own abilities better than anyone else. He knew he could stand a fight between the both of them. But why wouldn't he move?

As the Warrior continued his trek on the hallway, slaughtering that who crossed his path, the blaster pistol that was essentially glued to Jair's hand fell back into its holster. Then, in one motion, his lightsaber was off of his belt and into his hand. When he felt the weight of the familiar cylindrical weapon in his hands, his breath started to steady. Slowly, his muscles started to relax and he fell back into the warrior mindset. The Mandalorian's approach came ever closer, and gripping his lightsaber with two hands, he switched on the ignition. The color of royal purple illuminated off of the walls as the blade ejected from the hilt. The warmth of the blade brought him back to the present, focused, alert.

Ready.

"I could say the same thing to you. Let me remind you that this is not Ninn, This time..."

"It will be different."​

 

[Khamul Kryze]

Objective: Slay the Death Watch

The Mandalorian recognized Khamul almost as quickly as he had recognized him. A clear demonstration of his abilities in the Force, though misguided. Khamul still felt a bit offended that the man hadn't taken him up on his offer. So much power, so much opportunity... and, even more, a new, powerful presence for their people. He couldn't wrap his head around it. Why wouldn't any true Mandalorian want their people to return to glory? The unfortunate truth was that he couldn't depend on the loyalty of his people.

Khamul chuckled as his opponent ignited his own lightsaber.

"Yes, this will be different indeed."

His opponent was not aware of Khamul's new found abilities; a factor that he planned to exploit to the fullest...

He promptly killed two more members of Death Watch, likely younger members who had sought to prove themselves. They weren't truly bloodied, not forged in the fires of war like others. The thing about blades... if quenched too early, they shatter...

And shatter they did.

As the two Death Watch crusaders dropped to his blade, Khamul reached out through the Dark Side, drawing upon the power that he had found on Helgard...

It never left him...

Even when he left the strange tome behind, it still seemed to seep into his very being.

With one, calm motion of his offhand, Khamul reached out to the fresh corpses on the floor. A lifeless motion returned to them, causing them to twitch at first. Then, slowly, their forms rose from the floor, leaving the corpses to stand in a disheveled manner. Their eyes were still lifeless, and their motions limp. As they regained their footing, Khamul motioned toward his opponent. They began a blood-frenzied rush toward the man, rushing with reckless abandon down the hall.

Khamul smiled behind his beskar mask...

"I told you on Ninn... I am the right hand of death."

Jair Ordo​

 

[Dario Kryze]

Objective: Kill the Devil

Dario was caught off guard by the Sith's more direct approach. He came at Dario with such swift, unbridled ferocity... it took everything for Dario to find the will to react. He had barely noticed his brethren going down. It was a sin, one which the Sith would pay for in full, but every one of them knew the risks. They were all aware that there was a chance that none of them would come out alive. With that in mind, Dario defaulted to his instincts. He dropped his long range blaster, knowing that it wouldn't do him any service now. Now wasn't the time for blasters...

Now was the time for fists, feet, and blood.

He quickly sidestepped Kascalion Giedfield , barely missing the inevitable takedown that he would have suffered. Remembering his training, Dario attempted to unleash a torrent of quick, decisive blows. Most would likely not phase his opponent, but there were a couple of key points he meant to hit...

Ear...
Throat...
Nose...
Eye...

He knew that, to win the day, he would have to put his opponent down, and fast. Dario continued to unleash blow after blow, attempting to find a weakness in his opponent's "armor". He wasn't sure if any would be found, but nonetheless, he managed to mutter one sentence...

"You will pay for your sins, Sith."

 

[Beltran Rarr]

"What happened on Csilla was unnecessary, brutal, and pointless. How many worlds need to die because of your desire for power? How many more must suffer simply because the egos of the Sith refuse to be satiated? It needs to end. No more of the needless bloodshed. No more of these petty squabbles and pointless wars."

Nox had melted to the back of the room, encasing himself with shadow so that only the orange light of his blade could be seen. The Sith did what they always did when assembled, they bickered like children. It was pathetic to see, and would have even been discouraging to Nox if it hadn't be exactly what he wanted. He hadn't lied to Darth Solipsis on Pillio.

His single intention while studying under the Sith Master remained the destruction of the Sith. He wanted every single being in this room dead and all the armies of followers that each commanded destroyed.

So it was to his surprise that the words of Darth Petrichor reached his ears. He had expected the myriad Sith here to have many differing opinions on the slaughter of Csilla, but he had not expected an opinion such as his. The truth was: Nox agreed with him. The never ending bloodshed could not be maintained.

It was impossible.

There was a part of Nox that expected Solipsis to slay the Sith Lord immediately for having questioned him, but the threat and challenge presented by the Worm Emperor ( Aspect of Passion ) quickly overtook the center stage. As Solipsis and the other being began to wage mental war upon each other, Nox whispered through the Force to Darth Petrichor .

"There are those among us who agree with you," He said in a ghostly whisper that only Petrichor would hear unaided. "We would hear more of your views. If you survive the day, we would meet you and listen to your ways. If you wish to live this day, I would recommend that you leave. Soon."

The sounds of fighting grew closer as the attackers, now known to be the Mandalorian Death Watch, made their way into the castle. From behind his cloak, he smiled. Leave it to the vod to show up at exactly the right time.

Delving once more into the Force, he spoke to a few of the Mandalorians. Each would hear his ghastly call. "Greetings vod," Nox said. "I am one that you see you have your vengeance this day. I have hidden a present for you within the Castle walls: A thermonuclear device. Find it and use it if you wish, to slay those who have slaughtered your people. Alas, I can provide no other aid to you."

“Look who’s asking.” Her telepathic voice answered the man in what could be construed as a sarcastic tone. “I might ask the scorpion why it stung the frog.” She continued.

“Though, I think you already know who I serve. I’m not exactly being very subtle, standing right next to him, after all. Might I ask the same of you?”

The First Sister 's voice responded to him a moment later, asking a fair question. To it he responded. "I feel it more like the frog, poisoning the Scorpion before it can sting." It was Solipsis' arrogance that had allowed Nox to become his apprentice, and it was the Elder Sith's arrogance that now allowed Nox to perhaps strike a blow against all the Sith present. "I suspect that your loyalties are more complex than you let on. After all, I am sure that it was not Darth Carnifex who sent you to aid us on Sev Tok. If you would go down a different road, I will provide you a chance to meet me. Be watchful of it...or not. It matters little. I will say, if you wish to live I would recommend taking your leave quickly."

With his words finished, Nox extinguished his blade and began to sink deeper into the shadows and made to leave. If all went well, Darth Solipsis would be too caught up in his battle with the Aspect of Passion to notice his disappearance. And if the DEATH WATCH could make use of the nuclear device he had brought with him to kill the others in attendance, all the better.

Nox had learned much from Solipsis, but he hoped today would be the day that he realized the prophetic words he'd spoken to the Sith on Pilio.

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Petrichor's speech quickly got overshadowed by the Dark Voice's attempt to overtake the Worm. That and the hole that got blown in the wall of the gathering created enough chaos to give him an advantage. As Petrichor was ready to move, he could hear the words of Beltran Rarr entering his mind. It appeared that his words had not completely fallen on deaf ears after all. He took a moment to send a silent message back to the stranger who had spoken to him.

Don't worry, I have taken precautions to ensure my safe departure. Should you survive this day, and wish to know more, come to the old home of the Rakata. Don't worry about locating me... I will find you. In the meantime, I must take my leave.

With those silent words, Petrichor turned toward the door. He looked to one of his excerpts that had been hidden in the crowd. He needed no words, simply a nod... and his agents snapped into action.

Petrichor jumped through the air, launching himself toward the door. The Excerpts quickly snapped into action, each of their crimson blades coming alive, filling the room with their sanguine light. They promptly took to the middle of the room, forming a large circle, backs to each other. A few random Sith tried to retaliate with their own aggression, and were promptly cut down by the Excerpts. Petrichor landed right in the middle of them, calmly walking the rest of the way through the door. On his way through, another misguided acolyte tried his mettle. Petrichor simply lifted the man in the air, Force choking him as if he were nothing. He promptly snapped the neck of his would-be assassin, tossing him to the side as if he were naught but a piece of garbage. Before exiting the room, Petrichor reached out one last time to his mysterious new ally.

You'll need to find another way out. I'm afraid this exit will soon be blocked.

He turned back toward the rest of the Sith as he crossed the threshold, finally speaking out loud once again.

"It truly is a shame that you have chosen death. Very well then, death you shall have. If not today, then soon. Until then, I take my leave."

With those words, he brought in the immense dark energies from the planet, using them to bring the entire doorway down, closing the Sith off from their main point of exit. For them to get out, they would now either have to fight their way through the Mandalorians, or each other. Petrichor calmly made his way back to his ship, followed closely by his excerpts. As Petrichor made his way up the ramp of his ship, he felt a familiar power in the air. A type of unbridled rage that he knew all to well...

His former apprentice Khamul Kryze . His heart felt heavy at the thought of his failed apprentice being present. It only cemented what he already knew... his former student was truly too far gone...

There would be time enough for him to deal with that. For now, he had other plans that needed attention. He finally made his way onto the ship, and in silence, left the planet, and his former apprentice, behind.

---

Darth Solipsis Kascalion Giedfield Darth Vinaze Aspect of Passion Darth Carnifex Maestus Rynn Vizsla Jair Ordo @everyone I'm forgetting in this long tag list​

 

[Maou]

Kaito did not socialize with Sith. It was a particular rule of his, one that had kept his secret safe from the prying Jedi of the Galactic Alliance. But one did not refuse the summons of so many a Master, let alone his own. However, what he had come to was...Well it was terrifying. The small amount of the Sith of which his Master had revealed to him seemed to be but children's stories when compared to this desolate place, these depraved monsters.

And he was afraid.

He was more afraid than when that blasted Jedi nearly killed him and turned him into a cybernetic joke of the man he'd once been. He nearly vomited when his master's head was revealed. Clearly the weakest of Darth Voyance's apprentices, simply a tool or pawn to pillfer information from the anals of the Galactic Alliance's highest of military and political circles, he was likely only invited to be killed in the chaos.

Though he hadn't known his master's fate, he had guessed that death would be his own rather he came or not. And so to be the good little Sith he told Voyance he was becoming he had come. But when things started to go south he quickly made himself smaller, an unassuming threat. Few knew him by the face he wore among the Sith but that would not stop those who did from confronting him. Everything was coming apart. First the girl had awoken, that was being taken care of, and now his master was dead? Where did that leave him? He still held the ship she had given him, but would the crew remain loyal? He knew Hideki Satou would. He would have to purge the rest. There was no other choice.

The assassin had to be dealt with too. He'd have to go underground. More underground than he had in a long, long while.

 

[Maestus]

Naked and unafraid, scarcely covered by the remnants of her silken robe, she strode from the hall. She paid no mind to what was transpiring between Darth Solipsis and Aspect of Passion . One would win, the other would lose. She would sort that later. Her focus right now was on the invaders.

Turning, she followed the sounds of battle and destruction. As she walked through the hallowed halls, her fury was stoked even more. How dare the interlopers attack here. Fortress Vader, of all places. She had little doubt the Fortress would still stand. Yet at what cost? What would still stand when the dust and debris settled?

A thought occurred to her in the midst of the chaos. Perhaps....Perhaps she should let the intruders come. Perhaps she should not engage them. Perhaps they would assist in the cleansing of the Sith.

She paused, considering this.

And turned back, moving towards the great hall. Purely out of the desire to see the heretical Sith, the useless Sith, the fat and bloated Sith, destroyed.

Her fight was not with the interlopers. It was with those in the hall. And so she stepped back within. Eyes narrowed, she looked over the occupants carefully. Her hands flexed at her sides. Perhaps not heard, but definitely seen was the electricity crackling at her fingertips. ​

​

 

[The Usurper]

It was a beacon of blackness across the entire nether, a single point able to be seen like a black sun. So many Sith Lords, the kind of union in the kind of place that had not been seen in two thousand years.

It grew, amassing more and more by the second, calling the specters and ghouls of Chaos to it like moths to a flame. Some souls long dead, some specters of things long ago vanquished and stomped into ash by gods unseen. Some with too much hate to die...

The Worm and The King.... Their Clash and the violence of the impact between them was a typhoon that birthed a hole where Hate can come back. Here in the nexus of so many individuals who carry with them their own absolute abyss of Bogan was where the veil broke, Darth Solipsis and Aspect of Passion causing its catalyst.

Out of this anomaly in the dark side emerged a humanoid figure garbed in the shadows of raw sulfur. Crawling out of the very pits of Chaos itself, swimming in the sea of blades, The Usurper returned. Upon his entrance, bathed in the fire of Mandalor's children, Heresy, Kings, Worms and Emperors a Wave of Darkness blasted the entire room save for the nexus of his portal.

To true followers of the Sith, to the sons and daughters of the Darkside it was the smell of our blood and Iron tainted home. To everything else it was just death on black wings from the mouth of hell itself.

The Specter, The Usurper, The Titan Slayer and Last of the Assassins had finally returned... and Hell followed.

Born of two fathers, born of two entities bathed in the dark side of the force....Yet rebelling against both. The waves would push against his creators, testing both their abilities against themselves.

"Chaos Has Responded Your Challenge Darth."

 

[Jair Ordo]

S H O W S T O P P E R
MUSTAFAR
RIFLE | VAMBRACES | LIGHTSABER | JETPACK
TO ENGAGE: Khamul Kryze
ALLIES: Milla Kryst | Rynn Vizsla | Pre | Dario Kryze

He saw what he thought was impossible appear before his eyes.

The corpses that lay at his feet started to twitch and jerk, before eventually gaining their motor functions back. They took a slow rise from off of the floor and stood up on two feet as Jair watched in awe. What was this hidden power that he was witnessing? He shifted his right leg in a position to where he could make a frontal assault. With his body posed, he sprung, charging with his blade in an attack position. And to his surprise, the reanimated corpses charged towards him.

With an undercut, he sliced through a dead Sith Trooper torso before slamming into a zombified Crusader. It was a horrific sight to see his brother in arms unable to rest in peace. The corpse grabbed him by the wrist and started to ferociously attack while Jair tried to get his lightsaber into his free hand. Anxiety started to affect his thinking. Another corpse grabbed him from behind at the neck and more corpses started to swarm him. He slashed at them with his lightsabers, but as more were cut down, others replaced them. With a steadied breath his feeling of panic started to be replaced with calm, the environment washed away with a soothing grace...

All of a sudden, the corpses were on the floor, seemingly pushed away from him. He did not recognize what had occurred, but he did not waste any opportunity to strike. One by one while they were down, Jair struck precisely at the head, killing the once previously dead Crusaders and Sith Troopers. He looked back at the Mandalorian warrior with gritted teeth and bloody scars. His armor had been scratched at and his undersuit had suffered a bit of damage but he was dead focused.

Now it was his turn.

With a leap down the hall and lightsaber extended he went for a charge straight for the Mandalorian. With a strike like this, he hoped to catch the Sith off guard to make him open to an attack of his own.