Are You Not Entertained? [TSE Dom of Luria Hex - AK,28]

[Mythos]

Objective: Burn the Tree
Location: The Forest of Life

There were a lot of living things in this forest, there was a lot of pain that consumed the force once the flames began eating the outside of the forest. The heat was incredible but Anubians were especially designed genetically to withstand its flame. Three ranks of his Molok Legion marched forward, The Horde of Mythos as it became known. The first was the elite Molok infantry legion that raced ahead with Mythos as their spear tip, theirs was the close combat kills of whatever opposition was inside the forest. The heat, the humidity, the forested terrain was especially suited for them given their extensive training in Florn. Once deep in the woods what feeble resistance awaited them stood no chance, they butchered defenders and innocents alike and captured those they saw fit to work.

As Mythos crushed bark with his Ax the trees that fell crushed small cottages hidden in the trees. Like a infernal lumberjack he made quick work of the tall and massive trees that served for cover only to be used as fuel for the second wave. Behind his Molok legion was his armoured division, the Thrawn battle tanks and the Hellhound IFVs. They were retrofitted with flame launchers were their usual mounted heavy weapons would be, their task was to scorch everything in their path.

The final wave, the one behind the armor was the only part of Mythos' Horde that was not specialized for combat, they were however attached to the elite NSF. Coming through the scorched plains were the Oracles, the priest class of the Ankhyptian government and an extension of the will of Mythos and Mythos alone. Their task was simple: Find the Ancient Eye.

Mythos had come to beleive that the source of the power of the tree was that in it's roots beneath the earth was a small fragment of The Ancient Eye. Even a small fragment of it already contained tremendous power, more than enough to create a force nexus of this magnitude. He had his doubts, doubts that became more alarming the more he drove on butchering in the forest.

It was without a doubt a light sided nexus, this was contrary to his theory because the Eye was a dark side artefact, a very powerful one at that, one that could not be so easily screened even by a wall of light. So if it was indeed The Ancient Eye that created the tree, it must have been purified by a very powerful sect of Jedi... this is what the Oracles were here to find out.

His connection to the force only grew alongside his bloodshed, with it so too did his senses. One more aura came to light now, deep in meditation as the fire devoured everything behind him: @Reverance. Somewhere in this world was the wrath of the One Sith, he could feel him, sense the edges of the vondumm armour scrape against the floor as if it was his own armour, he could sense the pain and panic of the librarian and the despair of his friend.

Something connected the Wrath and the Magnus, something that the other Sith Mythos was able to sense did not have. As he stood on the bark of a fallen monster tree and a humanoid looking fighter rushed at him from the end he cut down, Mythos understood what it was. The Rudis.

Motionless he stared at the girl, she could not have been more than eighteen standard galactic years old by his estimate, the weapon she sought to use against him was a farm tool, a sickle looking weapon. She never stood a chance, a farmer girl with tears in her eyes and blood on her lips sought to cut down a Lord of the Sith with decades of experience in butchery. Her rage was clearly birthed from the deaths of loved ones and everything she once held dear.

With nearly effortless ease Mythos swatted her crude tool aside, the sickle shattering on impact in his masterfully crafted aurodium vambraces. His left hand shot out at an incredible speed and seized her fragile throat firmly but not lethaly. Now in the close proximity he could appreciate her features, her race was the Hellenai, a humanoid race Mythos had previously known about. There was ash over her body, her blue eyes pleaded for mercy but also with incredible sorrow... it was like drinking fresh water to a sith.

Mythos placed his ax on his back and pulled the Rudis of the Dark Lord from his waist, enjoying the agony of his victim and appreciating his work. His eyes narrowed as he observed her lips, their complexion lightening to blue due to the lack of oxygen. To please his own curiosity he lightened his grip on her throat and brought her closer to listen to her words.

"Y-you...C-cant kill us all!" She made out, still choking on his grip which now returned to it's full strength. Her words amused him, he expected her to beg for mercy, plead for her life... instead she remained defiant. With a swing of his arm he turned her around and seized the back of her neck and raised her a full three feet from his head and turned her to see behind him.

He showed her now in her final moments the fire that was coming, the devouring flames coming straight for her precious and sacred home. Mythos whispered behind her ear "Yes I can." Before plunging the Rudis in her back and lifting her over his head for all to see.

The Rudis of the Dark Lord had a special quality unlike anything in the galaxy. When it was used to kill it engraved the name of it's victim on it's blade through magical alchemy. As her eyes closed to the sight of her burning home the rudis was etched with the name 'Claryise'

"Carpet Bomb the north sectors"

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Objective: III The Circle Tree of Life
Location: Luria
Gear: Nanquan | Robes | Lightsaber | Spellbook

[ darth lolcat theme ]​

The young Cathar was holding his hand out in front of him.

Sap. Sticky, viscous amber clung to his fingers. The cat-earred youngling was amazed, however, at the warmth of it. The presence that it seemed to possess. It was as though the sap was calling to him. Beckoning.

Holding out his hand, one of the Prophets of the Dark Side came up to wipe the child's hand. The sample would be studied for midi-chlorian impregnation. A possible mechanism for the strength or intensity of the Force that was gathered here.

The boy's triangular, tufted ears gave a twitch.

There was an annoying loud noise, a terrible, horrid sound that rolled with a thunder that managed to shake the ground at his feet. The pilgrims gathered around the tree were starting to become panicked. Folding the black hood back down to his shoulders, the boy's amber catseye gaze peered out to the horizon.

It was as though a wall of smoke and fire were approaching.

The child's gaze seemed to become vacant, as the boy cast his senses out into the Force...

...or tried to. A fruitless gesture, it seemed. This close to the so-called Tree of Life, his Force Sense kept getting re-directed to the nexus behind him. Like some kind of magnet. Turning his head, the boy motioned over one of the stormtroopers. "What is that?" the young acolyte inquired simply.

"Lord [member="Mythos"] sir. His forces are moving up from the South."

The child frowned, though, to be honest, he wasn't certain just what, specifically, that he was disapproving of. All that land. All those natural resources. Was burning that down really the best use of the Emperor's new prize?

"They have orders to burn all of this. We should depart."

The Cathar kitten said nothing, his tail flicking behind as he brooded a moment. Then, turning back, the youngling regarded the mass of pilgrims still praying to their sacred tree. "And kill everyone who stands in his path..." the boy surmised, uttering the remark aloud even while talking to himself. Lowering his head back down a moment, the boy was silent for a bit. Then, raising his head up to regard the stormtrooper, asked, "Are the samples of the sap loaded onto the ship?"

"Yes, sir."

Good. Those would make an adequate gift for [member="Taeli Raaf"] to thank her for the lesson from earlier. But, the boy's ears twitched uncomfortably, as his tail seemed to anxiously sweep back and forth, as though the boy were trying to sort out some kind of conflict within.

"Round up the younglings."

"The Emperor's command was that no quarter be given," the stormtrooper stated, looming over the youngling even as he rebuked the command. Then, easing back, amended the statement with the obligatory, "...sir."

The boy's tail seemed to rear up like a scorpion's that was about to strike. "Who said anything about quarter? I want someone to play with on the flight back to Bastion," the child tossed back haughtily, his response to the stormtrooper's misunderstanding no more than a dismissive wave of the boy's hand. Giving a shrug, the Cathar added, "And we can always just sell them on Zygerria, I suppose."

Walking back toward his ship, the boy paused to look back at the tree.

More specifically, to the people who were still gathered around it. Huddled in their masses, touching and praying to the tree as though it would save them.

It wouldn't.

Neither would Micah. For one, he had not the space within his ship to accommodate such an evacuation. And neither could he cross a Sith Lord such as Lord Mythos.

But round up a few younglings? That much, he might could do.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

[member="Evaelyn Zambrano"] [member="Darth Carnifex"]

Joycelyn could not help but be amused at Evaelyn's words and general presence. There were few, if any, who would make such comments toward their father and walk away, and even dare to do it again. In some ways, Evaelyn was the most fearless of the two.

"Apologies Father, th-"

Joycelyn did not put any energy into the apology past what she needed to make it valid. She knew he wouldn't listen to it after all. She had also known this would be the outcome of their little deception, but when all came to fruition, she would have all the favour she needed to reap. In fact, if she had done exactly as her father had wished, then it was likely Evaelyn would have disappeared just as quickly as she appeared.

Their past rebellions were not without their reasons. Just as her new path was not without her particular, defiant touch.

She took the moment while their father was scolding Evaelyn to send out her requests through her datapad. She drafted and sent the Emperor's request for SIFIA's name lists regarding rebel supporters. Thereafter sent out the pre-drafted commands for Skull Squadron to fuel bombers and prepare for attack; the order for Blackblades to report to dropships and ready for deployment; finally, she drew her ace: The Imperial Remnant, nautolan, amphibious troops lent to her by [member="Darth Pyrrhus"] during their meeting over Munto Codru, their orders were to attack from the sea and clear out the caves, a mission spearheaded by one Kregan Fash.

She remembered Kregan from her days in the Glee Anselm academy. He had the most punchable face.

Joycelyn perked up from her datapad and gave her father a court nod to signify her understanding of the tasks laid out before her. Both in command of the Blackblades and in the responsibility to set her sister straight.

As they left, messages from scouts ticked in to Joycelyn's datapad, and likely to Darth Carnifex' own computers, about the havoc spreading in the Forest of Life. These were troops she had not accounted for in her strategy. If anything, they wounded the Empire's prospects of an easy takeover. Such massacres raised questions in the populace and deteriorated all sense of trust: If the Sith were not going to protect them, why serve them?

Joycelyn rubbed her brows in annoyance with this display of strategic malpractice.

"What fool did this?"

The twins would hurry to the dropships. Battle awaited them, and later they may have to deal with the fool as well.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Objective IV: Pyronium
[member="Ivory"]

Whether Ophidia was ever even in the closet to begin with was for her to know and Ivory to wonder. The more mysteries she kept Ivory wondering about, the more likely it was that the girl would stay a while and listen to what she had to teach her.

As Ivory sped through the mansion, she would narrowly escape the ones left inside as they looked through hiding spots, such as closets, the attic, cupboards, even under the bed. The guards were flocking back inside, doubling back over the track while the hound patrol circled the outer perimeter, looking for traces of scent.

The change of clothes would do a little bit to throw them off, but she was merely buying seconds.

The hound patrol was approaching the southwest corner, about to turn east along the southern perimeter. Two ferocious-looking hounds leashed to the hand of a twi'lek. He carried a carbine blaster on his back, and macorbinoculars in his hand.

Clearly, he was on watch for anything moving and ready to unleash his hunters.

 

[The Lurking Presence]

Ezroria, a shivering Kingdom hunched 'neath snow and ice, cradled where the jaws of measureless mountains open. It was easy enough for us, those sent ahead in to the foreground before the stroke of War arrived at the back of all Lurissian's, to observe and systematize our stratagem; on a World that values ceaseless tourism, strange faces seem so rarely to catch the eye. But, Matsu, short of utter aerial annihilation - this City appeared impenetrable for a ground campaign.

While, tactically speaking, an Aerial Assault may have seemed the answer. Widespread bombing did not factor in to our calculations. There is always a certain sort of circumspection involved for these sorts of things, the cost of lives the Emperor is willing---or must-----pay to see his desire met. But playing loose with Bombs and Orbital Strikes is a much heavier burden to bear. Every City erased down to it's Foundations, every Civilian population battered by the concussion, that's a Legion of new enemies that rise where the ruins once stood.

Although, the very cruelty of the actions we took, one could argue against, I suppose. But I feel there is a certain sort of natural order involved when lives are ended or when the flesh is tortured lifeless by hand; there is a degree of honor involved. Something, almost, agrestial to it.

At any rate, all of the considerations we contended with, were less a product of Siege-worthy systems of defense, rather the natural hazards of Ezroria itself. The native protection of mountains that shroud the contours of the City's edges, snow drift that wheezed throughout, shifting you from barren ground to chest deep powder at no discernible interval. Even the streets themselves saw us striding through slush up to our ankles. Worst of all, though, the cold.

That aside, we had to examine the people. Their Duke, Euadys the Frigid and his substantial compliment of battled-tested Lurissian's, The Everfrozen. Men and women that were stalwart, determined, and as far as we could gather, had never found themselves defeated when inside this polar expanse. Complicating things further, Euadys had under his employ, two separate Jedi Organizations - of some nature. The Wardens of the Void, and the Permafrost Paladins from the Haeridge Peaks.

Actually, from what I know of that Order, I'm not entirely sure they were Jedi - but as you're well aware, Matsu. . . out here in the Galaxy. . everything is either Sith, or it's Jedi. So by that standard, I will grudgingly take the Lurissian's word.

From the door of the Grand Library of Haeridge Fortress, a fragile knock whispered above the crackle of flame within it's hollow of the hearth. For the moment, Belphaegor offered no heed towards the interruption, his eyes recumbent upon the palimpsest his left hand weaved wounding marks across as he recorded, in excruciating detail, the events of Luria. Absent [member="Matsu Xiangu"], the Inquisitor felt astray at sea, with no Port or Harbor in sight to aim towards.

It was curious, really. In no way did the Maenan seem incapable of success without her, yet, such accomplishment felt empty and bare in her vacancy. A telling feature of a man who had not found his own way outside of dens of Alchemy, Dusty Shelves and Cathedrals of Knowledge. Truth told plain, he rather enjoyed the vast shadow of diminutive Matsu, and the motherly bond she provided.

Another knock, followed by the jagged shriek of antique hinge pins sobbing from within their pivot barrels. Through it, a woman was let through; body bending side to side with each step like a sapling under the breath of a gentle breeze. Feet bare, body sheathed only by the lusty caress of a delicate gossamer - as naked as the warm glow of light that extended from hearth crowned flames beneath.

For a moment Belphaegor took her as a Harem Girl, why else would she not find herself in chains or among the slaughter? But then those amber eyes located Dreadwind just beyond the open frame of the door, observing with strict vigil furrowed across her brow before finding the Library closed off once more.

Before even a word was found within her chest, however, a blur of movement verged upon the shapely woman from afar, darting her backwards a number of paces.

Zymis Velimir, devout companion, and most ardent abettor of Belphaegor's Will, quite nearly pounced upon her. Hand clutched tight around the hilt of his Rondel Dagger, a heavy coat of mail rattling fiercely with each step the imposing man took towards her. Ceasing only at a raised hand from the Inquisitor.

"Sha'thux ya fa-xiz, Zymis. " Said Belphaegor in the hideous tongue of Maena, "Let her speak. . . "

 

[Mythos]

Objective: Retrieve The Eye. Burn the Tree.
Location: The Tree of life

Ash, the scent of burning flesh and bark, the screams of the dead and dying through the force, these were the things the Molok legion could sense. There was little time to meander and rest, twelve hours into their assault and the vast majority of the surrounding woodlands and people were now burnt to a crisp. The armoured legion and the oracles were forced to focus on racing to the centre to run from the inferno that they had created. As the flames raced to the tree and the ressistance fell Mythos gave the order to carpet bomb the north sector. On his orderes special incendiary bombs were zoned in and dropped via orbital bombardment from the Molok fleet effectively surrounding the tree with a wall of fire.

There would be no hope today, yet the burning of the tree and this violence was not done for evil's sake. Mythos walked into the huddled masses with purpose, once again wielding his ax like a Sith Imperial Lumberjack. The tree and these people were inconsecuential to the empire, but what Mythos was able to do when he finished his quest would not be.

His voice thundered like the voice of an angry god, his aurodium armor and golden hair made him look like one too. "Of all the Sith that have come before me only a few have had the power to gaze into the future" He said, his eyes scanning around him to assess any threat or ally, the pause gave time for his Anubians to come to his side.

He stood before the tree of life surrounded by the black skinned canine beings and the oracles of the same race. They surrounded the parameter and began reciting their incantations, the green glow of their magic instantly swallowing the surroundings like a heavy bog of toxic smog.

His eyes then turned to @Micha and his troops, his expression was one of curiosity and amusement when he did. His next words were said while looking straight at him. "Once i unlock it's power, nothing shall stand in the way of the Empire and [member="Darth Carnifex"]. Our enemies intentions will be known to me before they are to them."

The Anubians began to close the distance to those surrounding them with malicious intent and they drooled at the sight of a Cathar, their favourite meal. Noticing this Mythos asserted his authority speaking in clear anubian, the barking language seeming to originate in barbarism and tribalism. "He is an ally. Not food". His tone brokered no argument and there was reluctance for a second from the soldiers before their attention turned back to their intended role.

Most Anubians there at the epicenter of the ritual were force sensitive and those who were joined in on the ritual designed to focus the power of the darkside using as fuel not only the lives of organic and intelligent beings in the inferno but the life energy of the green pastures and trees they had also deprived of life.

"Come. I will show you why I am here" He said to the youngling as he stepped into the centre of the ritual circle and slammed his ax on the bark of the tree. This was when he unleashed his hidden strength , his utter dominance of the dark side of the force to use it for such purposes. This was not the first ritual of it's kind and it would certainly not be the last.

Extending his hands to the heavens he brought into his form the entirety of the ash around the forest using the ability known as Alter Environment. As he created this storm of burned flesh, bark and bone the seers, soldiers and oracles around him focused the raw power beneath him aiming at the core of the tree. To fuel the ritual even more the living things around them, women, children, men and animals were brought to the circle by force and killed so that their souls would enter the malestrom.

The Sith Empire and their Sith Lords, Knights, Acolytes, Triumvirs and even the Emperor had yet to see the extent of the power of The Sith Magnus. One look at the planetary map that indicated weather anomalies would show just how powerful he had become. One hundred square miles of forest had in half a day become ash and fire and now in a few hours as the sun rose in the horizon that inferno became a storm manipulated and created by one man. As he pointed his index finger down and the flames began tearing at the flesh in his face exposing the cheek bones beneath what they came here for revealed itself.

Sheltered beneath the roots, the powerful nexus, the resistance and the religious fervour was a nearly undetectable piece of carved stone that radiated sheer power. He laughed as he saw it, his doubts laid to rest alongside all those he butchered to get here.

He had six before and now he was one step closer to uniting all the pieces of the eye. As his armoured hand clasped the tiny stone he could already feel it's waves of energy rushing through him, his inferno had corrupted it back to it's original state. When he placed it alongside the other pieces of the eye in his necklace amulet the storm died as quickly as it had emerged, the silence of death and the crackkling of flame was all that remained.

 

[Reverance]

Unnamed principality, Luria
Objective 1

The Sith leaned against the table. Not outright sitting, but seeking a bit of help from the piece of wooden furniture. A black hand lifted towards his head, pressing against a pulsating gash of red. The long tongue, splotched with red and purple and pink, slithered out from the palm and lapped at the wound. Along the forearm, the bicep and tricep, the creature gulped and quivered.

He gazed into that curtain once more, attention fixed on the way it moved in the soft wind. Duplicitous, it played the show of whimsy and offered only pain. It was everything he had wanted.

"He was more than a Librarian, wasn't he?" Reverance spoke in a whisper, hardly audible over the sound of the Dreathos coughing up blood on the ground. "Samnile, I mean."

"I knoooow who you meant!" Reverance was amazed at the species practice of pronunciation. Simultaneously lazy in the center and sharp on the edges, like the stabbing took time but the twist was quick and seamless. Irritating and fascinating, all in the same breath. "The duke...he wassss the duke!"

Reverance chuckled softly and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I would have made him suffer longer had I known. You'll have to accept my apology, we are short on time." The Sith pressed off the table and approached the warrior, a thing that had offered him a moment of escape. Kneeling, he brushed the dried blood from the Draethos lips, much to the victims confusion, and pulled the alien towards him with a grip on collar of his ceremonial robe. "Where's his family? Samnile."

"You'll never...find them!" The alien uttered as he coughed up more blood, surprising the Sith that there was any left. Releasing the figure, he plopped back against the floor, and Reverance wrapped his hand around the long throat. More and more, the Draethos' eyes filled with blood before losing any notion of life. Standing, Reverance took a deep breath of gratitude, and began moving into the interior of the castle.

He was glad the Draethos hadn't told him. It would prolong this mindless activity.

 

[Kassandra Zambrano]

Objective II - Win the Highland Games
Spectators - [member="Jahangir Zambrano"] | [member="Dante Sotari"]

Kass stalked towards the mace wielder, the man swinging at her twice to no avail. The first was dodged, and the second Kass pulled her shield in and swung it out, deflecting the blow and opening the man up to an attack. One she capitalized on, slashing her sword across her opponent's weapon arm. But he didn't let go, so she turned and went in for a stab only to sidestep away as a spearhead scraped across the side of her chestplate.

She turned to find the second opponent was now on her, drawing his spear back and jabbing it forwards in short bursts. Kass fell back onto defence, dodging one jab, blocking another then swiping another aside with her sword. Back and forth it went, pushing her closer to the mace wielder with each step.

Unfortunately for them, Kass was onto their ploy. So as she got close enough, she spun around, raising her shield and delivered a short jab into the mace user's throat. Kass didn't know if the blow had broken anything, but it was enough that the man dropped his mace so he could bring both hands up to his throat. He was stumbling back; stunned, unable to do anything as Kass let the other opponent attack, his spear passing through her shield guard and allowing her to redirect it.

Straight into the chest of the previous opponent.

There was admittedly no love lost at the man's death, the spear user attempted to pull his weapon free but Kass violently yanked it from his grasp. With a flourish that did not befit her towering stature, Kass spin hitting the guy with the shaft first before turning the weapon in her hand and stabbing the spearhead into her opponent's stomach.

With two immediate threats dealt with, Kass took the moment to focus herself. Head still ringing from the mace blow from before, she glanced around for anymore opponents. There was still two lingering around somewhere, but Kass couldn't find them. Maybe they had got caught up in the free-for-all, someone else grabbing their focus.

Either way the Games were drawing to a close, the crowd cheered as another fell and Kass looked across the arena to find only one other warrior still standing. All around them were bodies, some still moving but the majority were not. Her last opponent was weaponless, and while Kass would've had the upper hand, she opted for a fair fight. She threw her sword down, sticking the blade into the ground, followed by her shield. The two approached one another slowly. Kass spit some blood out, with the other warrior cracked his knuckles.

Once she got closer, Kass realized an important little detail on the man's armour. It had the Sith Empire's emblem. She knew that they had entered a few of their own into the mix, but now one of them stood in her way towards victory. A decision had to be made, and quickly as the two finally closed the gap.

Punches were traded immediately, centralized at either the head or one another's sides. Both were armoured, and while Kass had the height advantage her opponent wasn't a slouch in the strength department. But she had the Force. After the third grapple Kass delivered a knee into her opponent's side. It stunned him enough to sent him stumbling back, giving Kass enough time to focus on the Force, wrapping it around her hands. With a quick step forwards, she delivered the enhanced blow directly into the man's chest. It knocked him to the ground, winding him. But he wasn't one to remain laying down, and slowly pulled himself up onto his knees.

Only for Kass to immediately wrap her hands around his head.

"Yield." She began to squeeze, the man's helmet groaning as the pressure began to collapse it. To his credit, her opponent didn't give immediately. He attempted to stop her, arms reaching up to try and swing at her, but he was still too winded to mount a sufficient effort. It wasn't until there was another sharp groan of metal, that the man finally yelled.

"I yield!" Only then did Kass let him go, allowing him to just crumple to the ground.

An immediate cheer echoed across the arena, bringing a victorious grin to Kass' face. She raised her arms up, letting out a war cry in response - head ringing even more as a consequence. Kass looked around at the crowd, searching for someone in particular. She saw him quickly, the pair of Blackblades flanking him and someone else seated to his side. Kass walked towards them, her mind made up on what she was going to do.

"I claim this victory...in the name Zambrano." Her voice carried as she simply stared up towards Jahangir. Kass reached up and removed her helmet, revealing her face. A pair of mismatched eyes stared into amber, and there was no mistake in Kass' mind. From the Blackblade guards, to the Vahla guards around them, but the biggest hint was the shade of red that was his hair.

There was no mistaking who that hair belonged to.

It's been a long time, little brother.

 

[Dante Sotari]

The Highland Games
[member="Jahangir Zambrano"] [member="Kassandra Zambrano"]

What was it with Sith and not taking 'no' for an answer?

She didn't say it, but the thought 'what would you know indeed?' crossed her mind. Oh, Dante was blunt and sometimes brash, but she wasn't stupid.

Of course, she thought a bit sourly, if that were true, she wouldn't be in this mess. On one side, Starvald's rather firm orders and her own lines, on the other, this princeling and *his* threat of orders. Oh, he didn't mean it as a threat, but that was what it was, even if his intentions weren't terrible. People like him simply didn't think things through when it came to the potential impact of their actions on people without the power or privilege they held.

Inwardly she groaned.

The worst part?

She wanted to.

It was a chit position and ultimately it was the alcoholism that decided for her.

"I dunno about 'honor' but yeah, okay," she finally said, lifting the glass. A pause below her lips and then- long swallow.

Their attention was pulled back to the arena then. The fight over. But more than that. Dante didn't recognize the woman specifically but there was no mistaking Zambrano in every line. Not just face and body, but the weight of the gaze up at the man in the box next to her. So much going on beneath the surface within the royal family- it hit her in that moment.

And for some reason, Starvald wanted her in the thick of it.

Chit.

Are you not entertained indeed?

 

[Vestille Thumahra]

Death had been left in their wake.

Naturally, the might of the Sith Empire was not something to be scoffed at. Whilst the Lords and Ladies who believed that they were the ones that would be able to put an end to the oppressive advances of those servants of the Dark Side of the Force, they couldn't have imagined the sheer power that had been brought against them. Captain Alisel Gargal had led from the front of the advance as steel and fire reigned over the grasslands that those upon Luria had called home. Those that called themselves royal did not believe that the Sith Empire would go extreme lengths to push aside their defiance-- Perhaps the decimation of their armies and a request to surrender, perhaps they expected pity from those that sought to bring their world under conquest-- What they got was far worse than they could have imagined. The council of resistance that had formed watched in horror as their poorly prepared forces hidden behind what fortification and armor they could spare was blown aside by the rolling thunder of the armored and mechanized companies; to call the battles across the world a struggle would be giving them too much credit-- The only thing they had upon their side was valiant hearts but that was all made null under the tracks of those enemy tanks that pushed onward, towards the various citadels that the men and women of resistance hid.

Their suffering did not end there-- Helplessly, they watched as the siege lines formed of tanks and artillery and the screaming of "Fire!" as the bombardments started-- The indiscriminate shelling of civilian and military targets that sought to turn the towers and buildings that surrounded them into nothing but ruins. Any attempt of defense was quickly curbed, gunships flying overhead and eliminating any potential ambushes and emplacements that those within tried to set up-- This doctrine of superior firepower didn't waiver, never faltered until all was bare. What was once home was now a smoking ruin, littered with the bodies of those loyal to their respective Lord or Lady; who watched in despair as those transports sat outside their city gates unloaded the hordes of red and black which swept into their holdings, burning and shooting all that remained. They were coming for them-- What they found when the reached the top was up to those that had once called themselves 'defiant'.

And all the while, Captain Gargal watched on as the very undoing of royalty played out before her very eyes-- She had set out to deliver the Emperor's will with no exceptions placed between the lines. She had done just that, the results of her and those she worked alongside clear as day as the smoke bellowed into the skies.

Yet another planet had fallen.

 

[The Lurking Presence]

The abrupt advance of the towering man seemed to starve the woman's ambition from her bones. Where once seductive grace exuded her every step of entry, however few there may have been, she now exercised only a despondent shiver of life. Downcast eyes watching nude toes as she padded further ahead in to light, her hands restlessly clutching upon what scant gossamer wrapped her shapely frame.

Voluptuous lips parted open, promising voice and meaning behind this ill-planned charade. Yet, no sound, save for breath and creak of broken syllables. The fear was palpable, deliciously inviting, albeit, at this juncture, Belphaegor had little interest in distractions.

"Zymis is a very disciplined man, " the Inquisitor informed. "Instrumental to my success, loyal to my Commands. "

"I. . I'm.. Th.. ....Thela Veiel. "

"I'll demonstrate, " Belphaegor gnarled in displeasure. "Zymis, if you will. " Said the pale Maenan, pressing middle finger to thumb before producing a snap that split the air like the fracturing of bone.

Murderer, Soldier, Butcherer, Executioner, Cutthroat.

All words, among many others, that described this beastly man. A native of Maena himself, he hailed somewhere from the Black Barrens, South of Kr'ylland. He was a barbarous creature of rugged stock, built broad and tall. His face and body pervaded by craggy scars and unseemly burns. During the Orphan Wars, it was this foul and disfigured man, that birthed some of [member="Matsu Xiangu"] and her Droid [member="Six-O"] - Belphaegor's father, as she, his mother, liked to say - some of their most frightful defeats. The Attack at the Red Brick District of the Slums, the Siege of the Ash Keep, and the Ambush in East Haven - where Matsu had nearly lost her life.

But perhaps, that here still stands Zymis, and he now acts on the behalf of her Apprentice, speaks far many more volumes of the Haruspex than the man?

Gloved fingers entered the mouth of Zymis as he took stride once more, preparing to remove the partial-denture of pristine and attractive Xellwood, before Belphaegor quite suddenly spoke once more as the woman began to rapidly cower backwards again.

"Zymis, " he said gently, "this is Thela Veiel. A Noble born, if I'm not mistaken. Behave as a Gentleman, my friend. These type are. . . delicate. "

There was a stiff nod, and Velimir removed his fingers from purple front teeth, drawing the tip of a pale and blood spotted tongue across the front of them as they clicked back in place. Electing, instead, to extract hand from glove before concluding his approach upon the curvaceous woman. Striking her promptly across the face with empty leather, the forceful clap of which left her reeling sideways.

"You've happened to stumble in at a highly inopportune time, girl. Quite rudely drawing my attention away from a task that I consider highly intimate. " The Inquisitor breathed, his eyes moving towards the words he had thus far written for Matsu, of the events that had transpired here at Luria. "You'll find very little comfort in what comes next if your meek gambit delays me but a single minute further, and learn very quickly; that us of Maena, are not prone to Chivalry. So if that didn't help you find the words you're looking for, " again Belphaegor joined finger and thumb.

"Perhaps you'd like another? "

 

[Reverance]

Unnamed Principality, Luria
Objective 1

The clamor grew loud and boisterous, distending the halls with the echoing words of family and kin. Even beyond the thick wooden doors, the sounds of men and women and children could be heard for what felt like miles. Some were notable, some were not, but through the exaltation of one onerous man that stood at the front - all were given their time. And those times overlapped.

“Yes yes, I understand your concern.” He spoke loudly, the rasp of his voice was showing the decaying effects of mediation. “But we cannot sit idly by as this foe knocks on our door!” He commanded, one hand rubbing at the gray and black of his long beard - the other gripping the lacquered handle of his large wooden throne. A throne, by the very tone of the room, that did not belong to him.

“Samnile has commanded that we make peace with this enemy!” One man screamed out, his child slumped exhaustively against his back in a linen sling. “Samnile only cares for his books and dogma!” A rowdy raucous came after that statement, originating from a small woman who had the frame of a weathered blacksmith and the arms to prove it.

The man on the throne eyed the woman, his grey view ever so slightly condoning, as he nodded and turned his attention back to the group. “The principalities are forming a union. A unity this world hasn’t known since the-”

The wooden doors cracked open, slamming against the stone wooden stoppers - set inches from the wall. The man with the crimson eye entered, eyeing the doors, as he cut through the people. It was a sea that split itself and in his hand, a book was opened. He cleared his throat as he moved passed them, now more silent than they had ever been.

“Here I stood, upon this earth. Absent anger, filled with mirth. Glee adorned, as of their birth, for the words that were for the taking.”

“What is the meaning of this? Who are you?! What is this?” The throned figure looked on, impatient but otherwise unmoved.

“In the night, the sage did scribe. The prophecy, he could not lie. Of a world, of a broken tribe, a flame still in the making.”

“When the brother of the Duke asks a question, he is answered.” He nodded to one of the guards, who moved forward and cracked the man over the shoulder with a blackjack. It seemed to have no effect as he pushed forward.

“Words spoke long, they spoke of death. Time lost in this aftermath. Actions that would forever take this breath, was an oath not worth the breaking.”

The guard turned around and with silent approval, hit the man across the back as hard as he could. He elicited a response in the form of a step forward, but nothing more.

“Look how it burns, the sky so bright. To know the fire, to know its might. I taste this wine, I kill this blight, this epoch was for...the...waking.” He slammed the book shut, hard enough to hear over the heavy breathing of the out-of-shape guard. “I was told you’d be hard to find.” He admitted after breaking the precious few moments of silence, mockingly disappointed.

“Where...where did you get the book of the burning?” The brother of the Duke asked, breathless and flushed.

“Found it on a dead librarian.” He narrowed his eye at the brother.“I was going to offer you all the chance to find peace beneath new rule but...seems you all have decided it’s not for you.” He looked over his shoulder, selling the lie. “You have ten seconds to run.” Nothing came of it. Suddenly, the brother of the Duke was dead, his neck bent nearly in half as he went limp in the claimed throne, and the man was standing with his arm against the backrest.

“One.”

 

[Evaelyn Zambrano]

Papa's grumble brought a grin to Evaelyn's face. She walked a thin line, and she knew she could say and do things others could never dream of on account of being his daughter. But even that had its limits. She had learned just how far she could push her little rebellion, and which battles were best performed at a safe distance.

In this moment, however, they both seemed to have something to gain. For Evaelyn it was power, influence and finding her purpose. For papa bear it was the chance of having another daughter who was worth a damn. Underneath his scolding tone, she was sure there lay a desire to bring her back into the fold, a dream that one day she would seize being a disappointment and become the princess she had been meant to be. Who knew what the future held.

The orders came quickly, a chance for her to prove her worth to him again. Not that she was particularly interested. Today mutual interest was a lucky convenience, who knew about tomorrow. 'Follow your elder sister's orders'. Elder, she scoffed internally. Elder by like a minute. But, as it so happened, hanging out with Joyce suited her perfectly. Sisterly affection set aside, there were no one better suited to give her an update on the state of the Empire, and on life in the army. Heck, maybe she’d be able to finally convince her to take that whole Sith business seriously. Wouldn’t that be the day.

"You know, I think I can do that" she said with a little sly smile, and a wink sent in the way of her sister. She didn't like how she got Joyce in trouble over this, but she seemed to be handling it well.

Evaelyn watched clueless as information ticked in and orders were given. She was strictly in watch-and-learn mode. As the pair made their way to the dropships, she could tell something was clearly bothering her. "You good? We got a problem?" She wasn't sure what 'fool' in particular she was referring to. Someone deviating from her plan? Her plan. It took some time getting used to her sister being a big shot orchestrating all this. It was impressive though.

Evaelyn stepped into the ship, helmet still tucked under her arm. She was just another soldier on this one, but that suited her fine. She knew soldiering. Whatever problem they would be sent to take care of, Evaelyn and her lightsaber would be happy to oblige.

[member="Darth Carnifex"]​

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]​

 

[The Lurking Presence]

With her palm fastened to a cheek stained pink, and burning. Duke Euadys' eldest daughter, straightened upwards with disheveled hair. Ear closest the swift impact, ringing. The reservoir behind her eyes broken, flooding her face abruptly. However, unnerved, she may have been; there was a certain level of resolve towards the purpose of her request(s) to be brought there before the Inquisitor.

"I. . am Thela. . . Veiel, " said the woman, suddenly quite aware of the notch her teeth had cut in to her tongue. "Daughter of Du-- "

"Duke Euadys, " Belphaegor finished for her, his hand relaxing, setting his tigerish companion to ease.

"I've come to negotiate for the lives of my brothers and sisters, " replied Thela, "in exchange. . "

"Exchange? "

"Exchange f-- "

"In exchange for. . ? "

". . In exchange for------ "

"In exchange for what??? "

"For myself. . " Thela finally managed to conclude, slender brow creasing as if confused, eyes quickly choosing to wander towards the rows of dusty shelves and ancient books that shone dimly in the lethargic swaying of fire light, feeling as if the blood of her entire body rushed towards her face.

Frustration could not be yielded at this point, as the Inquisitor exhaled a shallow sigh. His own glare fixated upon the cherished correspondence he had been penning, "I already have you, " his voice returned in absolute irritation.

But, protest with a display of vigor she had not shown since first she stepped through the door; suddenly saw Thela retort, as Zymis kept firm eye upon her. "I am the Duke's firstborn daughter! " She huffed with indigent fury, her pride seemingly wounded. "I can legitimize your claim of the Northern Provinces. The Blood of my Family has held these Lands since our World's unification under King Selorix. . . our Line has existed since well before even that! We stood here STILL, even after The Cleansing Fire that rendered others mere ash in the wind! "

"You won't seduce me, stupid girl! " Bellowed the Maenan, fiercely. "You've no legs to stand upon! The Battles are lost, Ezroria was taken, this Fortress claimed, your Everfrozen put to the Blade on behalf of [member="Darth Carnifex"] and [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"], an actual lineage of weight and worth, by the way. " He continued, unexpectedly rising from the chair he sat upon, body wreathed in light and shadow from the Hearth at his back.

"My Father! "

"Your Father is DEAD! Slaughtered by the man standing right beside you! "

Sluggishly her eyes drifted towards the grotesque and hideous face of Zymis, then back towards Belphaegor. "But. . I'm not. . for my brothers and sisters I'll be yo--rssssss. ... .. . "

The syllables fractured, her hands brought to task; clutching upon the curvature of her skull as the Inquisitor began to apply crushing pressure upon it. She couldn't speak, she couldn't move, only listen and feel. Feel the sensation of the vice, feel the tension and threatening burden. Count the seconds until her eyes would be thrust from the sockets. Until her teeth would shatter. Until her whole head splinter and body sag lifelessly to the floor.

"You assume to tempt me?! " The pale Maenan roared, "Come upon me as some Harem Harlot, expect me to bend to such a meager whim?! Do you think me so weak towards these simple and prurient things??! " Stern was his scolding, who was she to disregard his warnings? "This is your FATHERS doing, girl! He could have been a part of something larger than himself! He chose. . . rebellion. And for his hubris, his Line shall end! "

Oh how Belphaegor squeezed her, he had always been gifted with an unnatural sort of control of Force Crush. If he chose, he could end her right now, right like this. Pulverize her skull and body until naught but wrinkled and ruined flesh remained.

"Strand me upon this wretched, freezing World, fighting a War while Matsu lay withered with injuries!? " Outrage began to abscess every tissue of his body, arousing abhorrent fangs to bare. "I would turn this World to soot and smoke, torch every soul upon it, see every King and Queen and Duke consumed by the blaze if but she or the Lord Inquisitor desired it! "

Darkness began to bloat, smothering the light from flames that still yet crackled with life. The Grand Library of the Haeridge Fortress trembled, walls and windows; every vast shelf and book or tome that resided upon them, beginning to convulse in agitation equal to Belphaegor's. Still the Inquisitor maintained his otherworldly grip upon the head of the fallen Duke's daughter, refusing to abandon this hold while he verbally scourged her.

"You. . your brothers. . . your sisters. . ALL! ALL WILL SUFFER! " He said with seething hatred, "Off to Maena you're ALL going! To our Mines where you shall never witness the light of day again, you foul, soft Lurissian! The canvas of your flesh will know such agony, but you will not falter, not a single one of you! Forced to taste every lash of our whip until your bodies crumble beneath you! "

Zymis, silently observing, allowed a loose grin to peel across his lips. Quite satisfied with the destined fate of Euadys brood.

"Ooooh, the inability of your fragile minds, you haven't the faintest idea of how to even correlate the cruelty of OUR World! " Belphaegor's voice began to break, distort in some unspeakable, infernal way. "These irenic islands of innocence your kind hails from! None of you meant to voyage too far out through these obsidian seas of infinity! Your enfeebled senses cannot even attempt to comprehend the boundlessly nightmarish horrors that await where you're going! "

Her body rose upwards from the floor below, crimson rivers seeping out from her ears; spilling down the shape of her body, only to stain the paltry fabric that clothed her.

"And when you find your freedom in such vile madness. . . only then may it all end!"

Howled Belphaegor, the door of the Library banging open violently, sending those whom had been listening from the outside scattering in haste. No sooner his crushing embrace was relinquished, did her awful sobs arrive, and the glow of the fire return to the room.

"So consider your proposition of exchange denied, you hopeless brat! The Bloodline of Veiel ends with you sniveling dogs, and by the time I am through you'll ALL line the shelves of my Alchemy Lab! Now see this peasant slave back to her chains! " The Maenan demanded, thrusting her body from the Library out beyond the door with a simple gesture of his hand.

Returning to his seat, the Inquisitor inhaled long and slow. His eyes glancing up towards Zymis as the brutish man approached, ready to supply his dear friend and ally with a soft and subtle blend of Giggledust and Hypnocane - to dull the edges of things for a while.

"Oh, Zylaana. " Belphaegor called out to Dreadwind, as she was pulling the heavy door to reseal the two alone, "The After Action Reports and full Inventory of everything we've taken from this Fortress - at your leisure. . . but with haste. " He informed while partaking in the generous offer of Zymis. "I need them for Matsu. "

"I'll get the AAR's for you asap, we're still scouring the Vaults, expect the Inventory in a few hours. "

"Excellent. . . excellent. Now. . . where was I! "

So with all of these things accounted for, Subterfuge, truly appeared our most approachable action for Victory. Of course, so much more goes in to it than just one idea or tactic alone, and the assets you and Six-O sent us, Matsu. . . played a very big role. But first let me get back to Duke Euadys the Frigid and what a ridiculous fool he and his children were.

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

EARLIER THAT DAY

Darth Pyrrhus and his companion, Kistra Vulen, made their way towards the tree. The one tree, the only one on this planet worth visiting, and the only reason Pyrrhus did not observe this whole ordeal from his ship. The Tree of Life.

The exact properties of this tree were so engrossed in rumour and myth, that he did not know where truth began, and at what point it turned into fiction. He had to see for himself. If there was even the slightest chance it contained superior healing power... It was possible. The tree held deep religious value for the Lurians, they might never experiment and discover this for themselves. Even if they did, it might easily be accepted as a miracle. No, he had to see for himself out.

His movements were slow. Kistra remained perfectly at his side, matching his pace. She could easily have raced ahead, he knew, but fear held her. She knew what this man could do. But there was more than just fear, it was dipped in awe and respect. It was in part why she had been selected to come with him. She would not become an obstacle to him, and she would, without a doubt, deal with any obstacle that might arise, putting her life on the line for him.

They reached the tree before any other. He had wanted to get her before their main forces launched. Who knew what would be lost in the madness of chaos. What forces he had been willing to spare would later assist in the amphibious assault, under Kregan Fash. He would not commit troops, or himself, to protect a simple tree. While it would undoubtedly benefit the Sith Empire to leave the tree intact, it would benefit him to spend time researching his findings today.

Their presence had been carefully monitored with curious eyes. More than once they had had to turn to coercion or intimidation. Kistra tended to have that effect on people, a natural trait, not to mention himself.

He watched as she drained the last few sap samples. They were taking more than they would need, but who knew how much would be lost during the process. If it turned out it was as useful as he hoped, he would be saved a second trip.

"That's enough, Kistra. The battle is about to begin" he told her, looking over his shoulder for a moment. While she gathered up their samples, he made sure there were no attempts to interrupt them. It seemed that their last lesson in suppression had taken root. "Where do we-" her mechanic voice was cut off by his own. "We go back to the ship." she thirsted for battle, he could tell. But no. Today, fighting was for Kregan. He could see the disappointment in her, even though she tried to mask it well. "Yes, Darth"

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

"No problem yet, but it may become an issue in the future." Joycelyn sighed as she handed off the datapad and three attendees started dismantling her formal uniform and quickly stick layers and pieces of jagged, blackened armour on her body. It was remarkable how quickly the pieces assembled around her. "Some men ought to be leashed"

One of the attendees -A red-clad handmaiden from the Ember, blind and hooded, known to the sisters as Pythia- sprinkled sacred unguents on Joycelyn's flesh while muttering prayers to Vahl. Joyce accepted a touch of oil to her forehead before the helmet was placed over her head. Its red eyes lit up, calling to mind a the visage of some hell hound, or perhaps indeed a vornskr. The jaws opened and withdrew, revealing Joycelyn's face again underneath the visor. Last, but not least, weapons were attached to her back and hip, and the silvery staff of her lightpike ceremonially handed over by one of the attendants.

Pythia, the handmaiden, offered a touch of the sacred oil to Evaelyn as well, while Joycelyn was finally armed.

"Mother Vahl, lend us your wrath."

The landing ships soon departed from their mother vessels, carrying the legion of Blackblades and the sisters Lyn, daughters of the butcher king. The swarming vessels spread as they approached their designated modes and targets of attack. The landing crafts themselves were packed full of artillery, walkers, and troops all eager for a fight in the name of the Emperor.

Joycelyn seemed stoically determined, but Evaelyn would likely be able to see the concern on her face as she ran through the steps and the things that could go wrong. This was her first major command, judged and overseen by the Emperor himself. He would decide her mettle. Was she worthy of wearing his mantle and command his armies? Could she soon, in honesty, claim the title of Darth? Time would tell.

There was no room for failure.

[member="Evaelyn Zambrano"]
[member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Evaelyn Zambrano]

Evaelyn nodded, noting her sister’s frustration. Hopefully it would in the end turn out to be little more than an inconvenience, and not jeopardize what they were trying to do here. Huh, she thought to herself, hiding a little smirk. How quickly it became they again.

Elyn recognised Pythia instantly, of course, and gave her a quick informal greeting. She liked the woman, in that she’d been around almost longer than she could remember. But she was far too devout to make her a close friend, or anything like that. She watched as the handmaiden applied the oil and performed the rituals on her sister. She knew them, sure, but this was the first time she was this particular one be applied to Joycelyn. Her twin had always been the most devout one, though, and so Elyn didn’t say anything about it.

Joyce looked impressive. New armour, new, stylish weapons. She wanted some of that too. Elyn was taken out of her day-dreaming of impaling someone on a new piece of steel by Pythia, offering a touch of the sacred oil to her as well. Reflexively she pulled her head backwards, and eyed the hand with great suspicion. But she stood there, and let the woman perform the part of the ritual on the reluctant Evaelyn too.

Well that was uncomfortable, she thought to herself. Finally they started moving, and for every moment that passed the sisters Lyn were carried closer to battle. It felt like old times, only it wasn’t. Glancing over towards her twin, through their great bond managed to read her concern, even if she didn’t know exactly what the reason was. She could make her guesses and assumptions, however.

Suddenly the focus shifted for Evaelyn, as did her priorities. Joyce found an armoured glove, the hand of her sister Evaelyn, be placed on her right shoulder. “Mother Vahl, lend us your wrath” she repeated the words. She smiled, managing one that was both comforting and cocky in tone, before her face vanished behind her Blackblade helmet.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]​

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Out of the corner of her eye, Joycelyn could see Evaelyn's moment of recoil and then acceptance of Pythia's blessing. The red-robed handmaiden was a priestess of Vahl, though she was not of Vahla kin and quite frankly looked diminutive in comparison to the two Zambrano-Cuiléins. Yet, she had been trained under their mother, Emma, and she had given flesh and blood to the Goddess. By the eyes of the Ember, Pythia was as much Vahla as the twins and their siblings.

With preparations made, they stepped on board the vessels and were shipped out to the front lines - To battle.

The vessel was rocked with counter-attacks from the ground as they descended. Whatever artillery embankments the lowlands had been able to muster were aimed at the approaching army. Good. That would distract them from they air-strikes against the mountain countess. By attacking each from a new angle, it would seem they would successfully back them up against each other and obstruct their ability to cooperate.

They would all be too busy fending for themselves to lend aid.

"Watch my back, sister."

Their transport touched down and opened up. There was no time to linger lest one wished to be trampled by a storm of blackblades rushing out to assume positions. Even here, the longest shots of the nearest battle scattered against metal as stray shots went awry. Behind them, a line of walkers positioned themselves as the long cannons on their backs adjusted height. Then, from west to east, they each pushed out their plasma projectiles.

Joycelyn could sense the tang of death in the force, like a scent smelled with every fibre of her being.

"Major! The centre line has been breached." "Jedi"

Joycelyn looked at Evaelyn, a smile on her lips as she reached up to the visor and pulled it down over her head. The jaws of the vornskr head closed around her, and the jagged, red eyes lit up with a vicios shine.

[member="Evaelyn Zambrano"]

 

[Evaelyn Zambrano]

Watch my back sister. “Just like old times” Evaelyn grinned, feeling the thrill of the coming battle wash over her. She thrived in this environment. She was made for this environment. It was an arena where she could get a creative outlet for all that anger and aggression. It painted a pretty, red picture.

As soon as the twins touched ground, they moved out. Shoulder to shoulder, and with an army of Blackblades at their heels. Evaelyn’s own helmet was back on now, and she almost looked indistinguishable from the soldiers, thanks to her disguise.

Evaelyn’s reaction to the news of Jedi on site was similar to that of her sister. She turned, smiling an unseen smile from within her helmet. Her lightsaber hissed to life, bathing her black armour with a purple sheen. Perfect, she thought. A Jedi. It were those duels she enjoyed the most.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]​