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A faint wave of relief washed over him at Romi's transmission; they needed all the firepower to open a window for escape because there was no other rational option that Dagon could see. As a matter of fact, he couldn't see anything as grains of sand hindered his vision. One hand instinctively reached to rub his eyes while his blade flailed in front of him in a desperate defense. Throwing sand was ingenious, very fitting for the New Jedi but having the taste of your own medicine definitely hurt.
Her window of opportunity was open for attack. If she were to blast him, he'd pull an old Coruscanti trick. Grind the pain with his teeth and feign death. The raining blaster fire from the marines would keep the Mawites busy from that sweet, sweet double-tap.
Darkness was threatening to burst from the seams. The last shred of Light and sanity that was holding it all together, containing the dread-power, was on the verge of splitting apart for good and unleashing the Dragon in all his conquesting splendour. And this little creature was picking away at the fraying ends.
That may have been true once upon a time when he faced down her kin in wars long past. But his strength and skill has surged ten fold since. "May be so, little one, but it seems you are in more need of help based on your....condition." he merely answered. It was clear she was attempting to drown out some demons. He was more than well aware, however, of the barrier she had quietly and drunkenly manifested - an Acolyte would be able to feel it.
That last baiting offer of a drink undid the tethers. The mental Hydra reacted, latching onto the luscious Force Essence that not only acted as a barrier around the little creature, but slowly leeching the Force within her drunken form as well. A clawed hand struck out to the side and as one, two of the three Hounds, who had recovered, surged past him with their Force-speed and flanked the little Jedi as the largest of the Tu'kata remained by Dimitri's side, all by the Beastmaster's command.
At the same time, the other heads of the Hydra struck at her mind and kept striking, looking for that little weakness in defences. Dimitri himself had not moved, the assault of the mind more than efficient for now.
Cocking his head to the side, the crimson eyes regarded Yenna. There had been a sliver of memory that had flashed past the Hydra's assault. "You have lost much, haven't you?" he asked her almost sincerely, but keeping up the mental assault while also keeping the Bogan close and saber at the ready - waiting to see what she could do and if she held the same prowess as the one the Dragon had faced before.
A rush of adrenaline took over as the arrow sank deeply into her target’s flesh. It was a kill shot, one that would bleed him out in moments. Allyson felt her shoulders relax, her mission was complete, and she could pack up. Kyrel didn’t fall like she had expected.
Typically when she assassinated her target, the body would collapse and bleed out. Her arrow would fade away into the living Force leaving no trace of her being there. Yet, Kyrel screeched like a wounded beast. Flesh stretched along with his bones, clawing at the construct in his neck. What are you…?She asked herself, watching him wreath against the light of the Force. Guess her attack was only just a flesh wound.
Pieces of his flesh slithered off his corpse, oozing black ichor - it made Allyson reel where she perched, her face twisting in disgust. This was unnatural; Kyrel wasn’t something meant to walk this galaxy.
He shouted at her, his beady eyes scanning - trying to find where she perched. Allyson covered her mouth, trying to keep silent her dry heaving. Whatever Kyrel was - it was disgusting. “Keep yourself together for Force’s sake, man.” Allyson cringed, seeing more of the flesh melt off of him, mixing with the black ooze. She moved quickly, changing her location in case he could pinpoint her from the sound of her voice.
As she climbed across the ceiling ledges, Allyson heard him shout. Turning, she caught his gaze, eyes turning a sicking yellow. Did he see her? What the Chaos was he?
The crimson blade appeared, and Allyson stopped in her tracks. He threw it towards her, and it spun blade over the hilt. “Chit.” She moved quickly, but the blade cut through the space. Its trajectory seemed that he had read her movements. Allyson was caught in the corner, but with the lining of the bow being lightsaber resistant, she grabbed it on end like a bat and waited. Swinging, at the right moment, her hips twisted, bringing her arms and the bow forward. It connected with the blade, sparks flying and licking against her flesh. The saber spun back erratic towards its owner.
Shimmering back into existence from the shadows of the Force. Allyson smirked and brushed back her hair from her face. “You know, usually save that kind of stuff for the third or fourth date, but my girl might take issue with that,” Allyson smirked as she drew the bow, the light construct forming once more against the tight string. She fired, but instead of the construct being one arrow, it began to splinter into two, then four, then six, and so on. Till Kyrel found himself under a rainstorm of light arrows.
Well, well, well! I think even I was surprised that this trick worked. I really didn’t understand why Ziare was so scared of these, since a little sand was enough for them to suffer. How was it in those old tales? I don’t know, they’re just mentioning something about Darth, who hated sand. I think sand is now on my list of my favourite weapons. I raised my rifle to shoot one more and end the man's miserable life. But my hand shook.
In my heart and soul there was only hatred, contempt, and disgust in his direction; the flames of contempt and anger danced in my golden eyes as well. My lips grimaced for a moment. It would be so easy if my victim didn’t suffer. And I’m not going to feel better either; for I did it so that everyone could feel the same pain that I felt. Who is able to survive can serve the Maw.
Another click, I switched to a stun projectile; after all, a little fun didn't hurt me either. I tried to move so that he couldn’t accidentally defend himself with his lightsaber. Because of his armour, he may need more shots, I had to be prepared for that. The whole thought, switching the weapon mode and to take a better position could have taken a second or two. Meanwhile, two of the marauders came back to cover; for now, they have been watching events from a distance, quite a few steps away.
I pulled the trigger again, this time with the stun projectile. If one of these hadn’t been enough, I would try to shoot the man until he not lay in the sand dazed and paralyzed. It would have been great to take a Jedi prisoner to the Warlord, on my first mission.
As Dakrul and his brethren descended upon the young Jedi a blue glow much like that of the Nether enthralled their attention, the boy's azure eyes absorbed them while moments later his abilities manifested. The movement of the three Cha'ta'ri began to slow, and halt but while it could stop them in the tracks physically it couldn't stop them from reaching out mentally.
The spirit of the insectoid Heathen Priest set forth to latch onto the essence of that that young guardian, its poison-tipped talons pried to find a way, a weak spot, a hole to slip into. And when he would a terrible scream shattered the silences inside. A screeching sound like that off clashing blades. A voice so morphed and dreadful.
"THEY WERE BEGGING FOR YOU"
"YOU KILLED THEM"
"THEY NEEDED YOU"
"THEIR BLOOD IS ON YOU"
The man confronted by an illusion of the dead and mangled younglings.
Then the gangways erupted, a fireless explosion, as a wave of pure energy dispersed in every direction. Dakrul and his followers were blown apart. The purple lightsaber that had been tossed after him would have been caught and catapulted across the room.
When the different chunks of himself came to their senses they recognized that what should be whole lay splattered about the underground tunnel. Insane regenerative powers of his Gen'Dai armor enhanced by the Mawite occultism sprung to action to correct this wrong. While the creatures for which he had sacrificed the two youngsters earlier laid dismembered in the corners towards the open former Green Hall.
Simutanisoly a burst of muffled laughter erupted from one of the ruptured pieces of flesh and metal laying about. A maniacal insane toothless laughter spilled from an orifice never meant to express such emotion.
"It is theeeeee Halketh... Dakrul knows this tasteeeee"
And it surely was, the Dark Lord and Ruler of Carlac had joined the fray. A warlock entirely committed to the powers of the force, so much so Dakruls own energies swelled in his presence. The two of them would usher in calamity over the light-bearers and their wretched hiding spot.
Seconds later slimy bulging lumps of tentacle mass began shifting and dragging themselves to the next biggest part of the undead splintered body. A vile gut-wrenching process as the massive figure began putting itself back together. Strings of tissues sewing themselves together, like a living puzzle figuring itself out.
What the Jedis before them had yet failed to notice was the growing herd of Hungering in the halls next door. The flock of predatorial thrall began to flood through the great tunnels into the spare living chambers and ultimately spill into the bottom of the turbolift. Here broth Jedi, their younglings and the staff were awaiting their moments of safe passage. They were suddenly ambushed by the stampeding flock of Hungering. A battle would break out, as the blood so preciously cared for and protected in this enclave of safety was spilled onto its floors.
He was a pilot. This was where he belonged. As the Storms formed up, Coren was feeling more confident. Sure, he hadn’t taken the Rassilon out in what felt like a Akk Dog’s age, but he was always behind the controls of a simulator, and flying the Rising or Shortfin had to count for something. He really should give this fighter a proper name. Right now wasn’t the time for that. There was a war going on and he was going to have to keep the space lanes clear.
“Ven, get the landers down there. Coordinate with ground teams.” He offered. “May be out of contact.”
“Welcome aboard Bolt 1. Good to have you.” Okkeus was a good Jedi, and the galaxy needed more of them, working together, flying together. “Got a few things out here I don’t like the feel of.” He slapped a button to transmit the direction of the Omicron. “Storms, Bolt, move to attack speed, weapons hot.” The Rassilon didn’t have S-foils, but X pilots knew what they were doing.
That was when the Knights came across the comms. The Corellian couldn’t help but laugh as he shook his head. Finding his first target lock. “Listen Knights, you out shoot the Storms and we will get the whole ship’s next round!” He laughed, as an agreement in Sullustese from Cuan Kunn
, they needed all hands, the Maw were moving on the Alliance and the old hands needed to come play.
As the first TIE, not of the new group, but another moved into view, Coren sprayed off crimson bolts towards the enemy fighter.
Not that he was fighting for nearly as long as Master Vanagor, or half of the Masters on this world, but Jared did forget what it was like to be in combat where not everything was trying to kill you, or where things were this chaotic. For him, it was time to sow discord, or at least, that was the Mirialan’s intent. He lived beyond the realms of most Jedi, with a focus to do what was right, but allowing the means to justify the ends… to a degree.
He was a Starchaser still. He knew where the compass lay. It allowed his Force powers to atrophy from what his father could do, that pure of focus and heart, into a varied grab bag of what was around him. Environmental fighting. Or sometimes changing the very environment around them. And keeping this other beast off of him and Caltin, that was his goal now. Then came the hammer.
So long as they could slow this beast down.
His tunnel vision getting the best of him as the Hunter was keeping his eyes on this monstrocity, the words and Force intention waving off of it entering his mind, only for Jared to reach out to the Force, to the very crystal in his lightsaber. The one that ensured he could pull on the Light and to find it even in the darkness that was here.
“No.” He said, defiantly, changing his grip on the blade, his free hand moving to hurl the freeze against this monster. He was fast, but not fast enough for the unexpected. The energy was propelling forward when the other Sith, out of Jared’s attention picked the shatterpoint, igniting the energy and causing a blast back that threw Jared backwards.
His saber clattering to the ground. Shaking his head, clearing the sound and energy from him, the Jedi was pulling a page out of his father’s book, pulling on the energy, residual in the room, he was using it to charge himself. His hand reached out, pulling his lightsaber back to his hand. All the while, his other hand raised and closed into a fist, a brilliant white light, not as powerful as Force Light but enough to cause discomfort for the darksiders.
“Enough of this.” His voice boomed as the green blade ignited and he made his move forward. Defiant and collected.
Kyrel watched as his blade kept getting closer to his enemy. He could just taste the surprise, the fear emanating from her. Using that fear to feed his own darkness from within. Watching with his undead eyes on how she narrowly avoided his blade. Only by slightly of course, before it retreated back into his hands. He hadn’t even shown his true monstrous form to her. The things that an unholy abomination has yet to unleash. Kyrel only watched as she seemed so snug. Taking his death mask out of the way, his full deformed and scarred face more evident to see clearly even within the darkness. His eyes locked upon her, the same mantra inside his head only echoed further. ‘Consume, Devour, Destroy!’ A mantra that often echoed more and more since his resurrection.
Before he could begin, he was soon met with a slowly increasing amount of light arrows. Some bouncing against the darkness of his Ren armor, but those that managed to pierce the gaps of said armor had started to burn his flesh. Once more an inhuman cry had came from his lips. The same screech came out in intensity, before he was met with a full volley. Again some bounce back with the rest continuing to cause bits and pieces of flesh to shed. The black goo starting to form a running puddle. “I am death…. I am wrath… I live to see you die!” He said as he opened up his own counter moves.
Opening his jaw, looking directly at her, as if the arrows were the least of his concerns. He launched his tongue straight at her. Functioning as if a razor like whip, if it didn’t wrap around her body it would attempt to knock her bow from her hands. The black goo mixed in with the saliva only caused an acidic like substance that would burn whatever it came in contact with.
With the amount of pain he was in, his flesh only continued to dissolve into bloody chunks. He raised his had open palmed, closing his fingers slowly into a fist he attempted to destroy some of the ceiling supports to bring her down, if not half her barrage of his tongue lashing had not met any effect. As Kyrel watched, holes being formed in his armor with the same black ooze slowly spurting out. All the while Kyrel seemed as if he was i phased by it, and if he felt such pain he only used it to increase the darkness.
His fingers wrapped around the yorik coral and disconnected it from his belt, with a sharp hiss the blade sprung to life. The Dark Lord's arm still held against his opponent, the Jedi Battlemaster well renowned for his skills and prowess against ones such as he. The Sith'ari stared intently, with focus, with hatred, he lifted his weapon into the air and immediately took a swift step off from his opponent, releasing the physical force arrayed forward against the imposing roadblock that was Aaran Tafo
. He would end this once and for all.
Stray bolts of crimson hatred rippled and ruptured between them, off track bolts from the fingertips of his Shadow Hand, the Dark Lord of the Sith Halketh
. The two narrowly avoided the powerful sparks of intense hatred only for a sudden exposed line of oxygen to ignite within the peeled up walls, damaged from the ongoing battle for survival as the Jedi fought tooth and nail against the would-be exterminators. The New Sith Order kept the push into the enclave, they would destroy every last inch of this wretched hive before it was all said and done. They would leave it in smoldering ash with nothing but the dirt beneath it's contents, their presence scrubbed clean.
The oxygen ignited, an small explosion rippled forth and concaved the corridor as rubble and debris would rain down. The Dark Lord lifted his hands, shielding his face as a barrier was hastily erected. The Elder lifted off, spirited back by the forceful might of physics, he came down into a harsh roll, coming upright with a single hand catching himself as his backfoot pressed down from behind. Lifting one knee up, he rose from the small blast area to his feet as sparks rained down upon him and the heat of the nearby flames from Darth Mori continued to flicker and roar.
That's when he felt it. The presence.
"At last."
His eyes drifted back towards the lift they had arrived in, he felt the arrival of the Headmaster, the same Jedi who along with Cedric Grayson
and Ryv
(Ryv) had been a major thorn in his side since the beginning. She had eluded her fate once before, this time would be different. Solipsis advanced, moving back towards the lift to return to the surface where his quarry awaited.
The light on the lift flickered as the images ran from left to right, the glowing light from the interior of the lift highlighted his features so full of hatred, contempt, and dark intent. When the doors finally opened, his boots planted firmly in the sand as he began marching off towards the presence of Romi Jade
.
Dearest Grand Overseer, at last, No doubt we will be seeing reinforcements soon enough unless you and yours act swiftly. Destroy those I see scrambling upon the sands over our heads, ensure they crawl no longer. We shall not be bothered by interrupting pests whilst achieving our victory.
"With Pleasure my Lord" Sularen replied before disconnecting from his breif conversation with Executor Caelitus. As his Fighter Wing speed past the Prophet , new set of contacts appeared on the Sensors of Sularen's Fighter and that of his Wing. The First was a set of 15 X-Wings , identified as a certain Storm Squadron. Next was a second group of Starfighters , 20 total comprised of both Zerek Zenith-series Multi-Role Starfighters and Shen Supa-series Long-Range Assault Fightersboth whom Sularen recognized as products from a certain Corporation known as CorelliSpace. The Third Set of Fighters were far larger then the other two although the Grand Overseer had no exact numbers for them. They seemed to be SJO-based as yet again none of these fighters seemed to have the Classic Aesthetic which had been utilized by the REC when desinging their products for the Alliance.
Nevertheless , despite the Crimson Linings being somewhat outnumbered , the Grand Overseer and his men had no fear as they knew they were superior then whatever pilots the Alliance had thrown at them and with the Prophet also present , the Crimson Linings would also be reinforced by Swarms of Final Dawn TIE Interceptors and Fighters ready to put down this pathetic excuse of fighters that the Alliance had sent against them. Soon enough , the Crimson Linings and the Prophet's Compliment of TIEs would join up with the Crimson Linings leading the charge against the enemy as the TIEs soared through the empty space above Jakku. As they came near the enemy Fighters , Sularen and his fellow pilots began locking onto their targets and soon enough they came into contact with the enemy fighters as both sides exchanged blows thus beginning an intense dogfight to determine who controlled the space above Jakku.
Shatterpoint was a nasty phenomenon to witness, let alone experience and when it comes to application. The increase in his own elemental prowess was off in itself, it made him stop in his mind and the gutwrenching pain that came with it put his ability to control said pain to the test. The Sith Lords might with this rarely known skill surpassed the massive Jedi Master’s clearly, and if he had not traveled to the Wellspring of Life, if his physiology, his connection to the Force, his very mind and body had not been “reprogrammed”, “reloaded” and “rebooted” (in a manner of speaking), Caltin would be buckled over in sharp pain and vulnerable. Had Caltin been like any other Jedi...
He had changed, that was documented. He wasn’t like the other Jedi.
The Force was already going to work on healing the damage caused and minimizing his pain down to a mere annoyance. However, that would bring up some level of paranoia with the Dark Lord. Make no mistake, the move pulled on him hurt like (censored), and would not just go away right away, but he was able to hold up.
Caltin was still focused on the monster in front of him, but this Sith, no doubt Dakrul’s master, was not to be trifled with. He didn’t know how capable Jared was, Starchaser or not, so the big guy aired on the side of caution and reached out. The electric field, more and more accustomed to signify his connection to the Force reaching out to its target soon ran at to envelope Caelitus. If the Sith did not block, or dodge, the electrical field would not affect him at all, it was more aesthetic.
Caltin was working on catching him in Force Stasis.
No doubt the effect would not last long, so he would have to work quickly and close his hand into a fist, in an attempt to trap the Dark Lord in any armor that he might be wearing. If he had none, his bones would feel the “crunch”. Again, Caltin was under no illusion that he could hold it, not only was this monster more than capable of fighting him, the monster in front of him required his attention too.
The funny thing about “hiding”, you have to “hide.”
Dakrul had darted towards the younglings, Caltin could not intercept, but there was something he could do. It would leave him vulnerable temporarily but it would work, it would have to. Dropping into a lotus position and locking eyes down the hall, Caltin entered a meditative trance and began to use the Force to alter the environment of the Sith. The appearance (if this worked) would make the younglings look like they were running into or past Darth Caelitus, as if he was defending, or absorbing them. The plan was to get Dakrul to turn against his master, maybe not for long, but long enough to get the attention off of those who had no business being in this fight. Lightning would again come into play and tear into those who would do Jedi harm. I would hopefully also allow for Starchaser to regain some kind of footing.
If none of this worked, his lightsaber was still in his hand, it would be enough.
She felt the presence of the creatures' master refocus on his pets, instilling in them hunger and rage. The creatures screeched and shrieked, whipped into a frenzy for meat and blood by their creator, specifically hers. They would not hesitate again in their hunger, their master having tricked their brains into thinking they hadn't eaten their fill already. Clever, if not a bit heavy handed. Her stance shifted subtly as the creatures reached the peak of their battle cries, and they started rushing towards her along the floor, walls, and ceiling.
There was a very efficient way of handling these creatures; she wouldn't give them the label of Sithspawn as their creator had done a bare minimum in their altering. Twin blades of amethyst light ignited as she drew her lightsaber from her belt with the Force, the lightsaber hanging in front of her as a testament to the trakata school of telekinetic lightsaber wielding. She had not wielded this saber in some time, not since before Operation: Eclipse on Coruscant brought down the first Galactic Alliance, but she had kept it maintained for as situations called for. Today was one such occasion.
A touch of the Force and the blades began spinning, becoming a vertical whirlwind of violet light that filled the corridor in front of her to the walls and ceiling. And then, with the detached mentality of one going through a greeting formality and a gesture of her hand forward, she sent the blade down the corridor in that position. The corridor had become a sawmill, the walls and ceiling the channel and the lightsaber the blade. The first creature, the most hungry she was sure, was met by the blade again, and again, and again, and again... slicing it into tiny sections as though it had tried to go through an industrial fan. They were trapped between the blade of death bearing down on them and the turbolift further back. The second creature and then the third met similar fates, their aggression their own undoing as small pieces fell to the ground, sizzling as tiny dribbles of their acidic blood flowed from the cauterized chunks.
She wondered if their creator would indulge their survival instinct and allow them to move away from the blade back to the turbolift, or just keeping encouraging them to push forward. A fourth creature would meet the wall of purple light...
Objective: Be an absolute nuisance Allies: Jedi pals Enemies: Dark Side baddies
Engaging: Dimitri Voltura
The continuous teasing seemed to have the effect she was looking for. However it wasn't in the manner she was hoping for. She immediately felt what he was trying to do. She had practiced enough with master Sakadi to know what a mental attack felt like. Though there was another sensation she wasn't sure what to make of. It was faint, but it felt off. She was going to have to work with this fight before that feeling grew into a problem for her.
Her more immediate concern was his hounds coming for her and the attack on her mental state. His comment struck a nerve but she kept her calm and drunken composure, refusing to acknowledge the memories or emotions coupled with them. "Two of us, that probably makes." she quipped nonchalantly as she stared at her bottle.
She took another sip and carefully placed the bottle on the ground with a sigh before she looked up at him. Her drunken state was out of the window in the blink of an eye. She became a green blur as she moved, a cyan blade igniting as she slashed through the necks and tails of the hounds closest to her, using them as a platform to move as she landed on their backs, before the green blur went after the Sith Lord with the aid of the Force. Her blade collided with his to keep it in place while her free left hand stretched out to deliver a healthy slap at terminal velocity to his cheek simultaneously. Coupled with a force push on impact, the ideal effect was to send him into the hallway's wall with a red imprint on his cheek, and enough surprise to halt his mental attack, while she darted away with a series of elegant and accurate somersaults. Her movement was quick and direct, ready to counteract in case he tried to attack her in her tactical retreat.
Wrapping the Force around the last hound, she sent it flying towards him as well before her drunken act returned. She dropped back onto her bum and grasped the bottle, taking another sip. Her mental defences were holding for the moment, but she knew she couldn't challenge him in that department. "Frustrated already, you seem. Though... something else, I sense. Recognise me, do you?" Her head tilted slightly. From a pocket, she produced a datapad and looked over the screen. "Say... quite annoyed, Eenia sounds." She quipped as she glanced up at him, turning the datapad to show him the notification banner. "Answer her, I'd suggest. To make a lady friend wait, not smart it is." She grinned at him as if she had just solved some massive existential crisis for the Sith Lord. Using the Force, she hovered his own datapad towards him as she tapped her heels on the floor, waiting for him to make his move.
The Zabrak had hoped the Sith would’ve let the Xenomorph off its leash, but she didn’t move from her stance. Instead, she eyed up the Sith and his Loth Wolf. Her gaze kept the Sithspawn on her sights too, but she was trying to figure out the best course of action. The moment they moved, no doubt the Xenomorph would react. Whereas the Sith was likely to remain where he was, if his words were to be believed.
“Big words for a mere Apprentice.” Vaylin taunted, staring directly at the now maskless Sith. “Having to resort to using pets to even things up?” The words were probably hollow, Dun Moch was never Vaylin’s speciality as a Sith. But given their opponent seemed to like talking, why not attempt it? It gave her a little more time to concoct a plan, and another piece clicked when she glanced at Ishani.
“Mind giving me a little light?” She held out her orange-ish gold blade towards her, indicating to ignite it with fire. Whereas her other, more jagged blade was designed to rip ‘n’ tear. This one was originally designed to cut deep, ensuring the usually poisoned edge did it’s work. Unfortunately, she had no poison on hand right now.
Whether Ishani followed through or not, the moment Arlo moved forwards the Zabrak followed suit. Although, rather going straight towards the Sith, Vaylin went wide. Her stance shifted from Zakkeg to Maalraas. She broke into a dash as she went right, circling slightly as she moved towards the Loth Wolf’s flank.
The moment she drew close enough, she moved and swung low, intending to slash with her jagged blade towards either the wolf’s front or hind leg.
FIGHTER COMPLIMENT: 103rd Tactical Starfighter Wing "Angel of Death Squadron"
CALLSIGNS: Commodore Angellus "Maverick" is and will always be "Angel 1", Captain Rojuh Pouil "Starlight" is "Angel 2" Commander Scoht Pouil "Meteor" is "Angel 3". Commander Ewan Isaacs is "Angel 4" but also goes by "SCAR 1" Each Squadron leader makes up the remaining "Angel" callsigns, their individual squadrons and make-ups are named below. SCARs 1-5 are checked out as "operational and fly the Mk II.
"Are you kidding me, Pouil?! We need to be in the soup and you know it!"
Ewan was not in the mood to be "Alert 5", he was not built for it and neither were the SCARs. That is why he was face to face arguing with Scoht. The Flight Director for the Ethereal.
"Watch your tone, 'Radier'," Pouil responded angrily. "Get the bass out of your voice and use a different tactic when you address a superior officer."
"When I come across one, I will."
Cutting the Comm-link, Ewan fully expected his fellow Commander to attempt another call, after all, he was being insubordinate in a sense, but they were the same rank, he was right, Scoht just had a different job than him, not a superior rank. What he was not expecting was a call from Rojuh, the other Pouil, Flight Director for the Silver City, and "Captain". Now Ewan didn't have a problem with either brother, he flew with the both of them, but Ewan, like Scoht was a hothead. While he may respect "the brass" he will speak his mind every time and if that gets him in trouble then he accepts it as a part of who he is.
Hitting the button, he just glared at the man glaring back at him.
"Really?"
"I'm not wrong, Rojuh."
"No one is saying you are. You really think either of us, the Commodore himself don't want to get into the fight?"
"Again... why are we not in the fight?" He was watching the results pour in.
"Hang on... getting a comm from Angellus about this very thing..."
The remark by his ally's disembodied mouth brought a grin to his face, one that was grown further by the detonation of the raw energy around him. The force of the blast shoved his stance wider, though a shift of his weight to his heels saw his boots skid to a stop against the polished floors. Ivories flashed with the fiendish smile, his expression unyielding as the trio targeted by his sorcerous malice staggered and struggled apart. The graven priest was of little consequence, the Dark Lord knew well enough Dakrul could regenerate himself and would do so as long as his pieces were spared of fiery misfortune; something which Caelitus decided to shield him from in a moment of resolute mercy.
A pulse of energy washed outward from the staggered Knight, one that caressed the miraluka's exposed face, but did nothing to hinder his advance; his armor soaking up the brunt of the metaphysical assault without so much as a stutter. The howls of morbid creation from his flank saw him pivot smoothly on a heel, thinning his silhouette to allow The Hungering to charge by him, bounding in their ghastly arrangement to close in on Caltin Vanagor
and Jared Starchaser
both.
Preternatural senses raised silent klaxons in his mind, itching the grooves between his forethought. The Force was moving against him. Both of his hands raised, palms twisted inward toward his frame, and with the Battlemaster's effort to coil unseen serpents around him, the kineticite imbued into his elegant plate shimmered with a glistening glow. Those greedy crystals housed within his gauntlets lapped the energy cast unto him hungrily, devouring it as quickly as it was poured for their consumption.
"Oh my..."the Dark Lord mused aloud, slowly drawing his hands apart to expose the devilish curl of his lips on his bare features,"that simply won't do."
The very same energy he had only just reaped was redirected with the thrust of his hands as nets cast into the shimmering air. The dark energy traps were dispatched in Caltin Vanagor
's direction specifically, now that he had found himself seated and stationary. Refusing to stay mobile made him the decidedly obvious target for the Sith Sorcerer, and as soon as an effort was made to occupy the Battlemaster, Darth Caelitus's malice was directed unto Starchaser.
The Light conjured by the man painted him as a monolith in the miraluka's Sight, a brilliance unlike so many of those shimmering, doubtful beacons down the corridor. "Aren't you a dazzling one,"Caelitus sneered mockingly, the contempt he held made known freely in the venom rolling from his tongue,"careful you don't burn yourself out so quickly!"Corruptive energies were palmed, the sorcerer pooling his festering hatred for the New Jedi Order into every thought which happened past his fragmented consciousness until the raw poison was manifested. These inky spears of pure darkness were hurled toward Jared Starchaser
one after another in rapid succession before the Dark Lord was finally upon him outright.
He offered him no quarter, no room to breathe, as much was immediately made known in thenauseating wave of sickness that projected from the Dark Lord's body with a modicum of his focus. In an instant, baleful orange screamed to life in his palm and the lightsaber was sweeping downward with a droning whirl and violent intentions."You're all going to die down here."
Objective: Sneakhelp
Location: Coruscant response shuttle
Tags: Gillan Eru
They didn't know she had access to the emergency operations channel. If they did they probably... wouldn't be happy. This was why Jem used her brother's holo credentials to break in and give it to herself. What the elders didn't know wouldn't hurt them.
What Saan'an Gaelor didn't know wouldn't hurt either. She just had to be there, the fate of her stitched up heels be damned.
Sneaking onto the shuttles was as easy as pie if you knew how to do it. Why would any Jedi have reason to be concerned about security on THEIR neck of the woods? Nah. Their attention was out there, towards the battle Jem desperately wanted to be in. She slipped into an unmanned shuttle, the door stuck open as she leaned half in to tear at some wires. Somewhere in here was the right-- aha.
She inserted her boot-chip and watched as the system was overridden. Lights flickered on. The engines booted up. She grinned, the wayward half of her body pulled into the shuttle as she swirled in the seat.
His first comment just slipped out. But the response he received, the raised brow in particular, gave him a boost in confidence. His grind broadened as he began to mirror her movement.
There were only so many hours one could spend in the library.
And Gillan Eru had definitely exceeded the limit.
He was on his way back, strolling through the temple's halls. A swift glance through one of the tall windows made him once again realise that the city never slept. Hundreds of lights dotted the sky, showing exactly how the skylanes swept through the city. That was something he'd never get used to. The crowds, chaos, and the smell that lingered in the lower levels specifically. It made him wonder what assignments Lyra had in store for him tomorrow. For if it were another 'go fetch this or that'-assignment… Gillan tightened his grip on his datapad at the thought of it. He didn't like Coruscant, and he wasn't afraid to admit it.
He was, however, slightly afraid of the freckled padawan he silently stalked through the halls. Jem Gaelor. Blunt, cynical, and at times brisk. But he couldn't recall a single moment where he hadn't caught her in a bad mood. Gillan expected that tonight would be no different, but curiosity had gotten the better of him. Why was she up this late?
The answer was less pleasant than he had hoped. It weren't the training or dining halls, no, Jem was heading for the hangars. And before he had realised it, she had already entered a shuttle as if it were her own.
No, this could not stand.
Gillan emerged from his hiding spot behind one of the marble columns. "Jem!" He whispered, half-scared half-angry, as he approached the shuttle. "What are you doing?!" Was she going to leave without the Council or her master's permission? "Get out of there! That shuttle doesn't belong to you!" He doubted she'd listen without any incentive. "If you don't get out, I swear I'll tell the masters!" Sometimes, you needed to clarify where you stood. And this time, he stood in someone's way. Even if that someone was Jem Gaelor.
Objective: Stop a Snitch
Location: Coruscant response shuttle
Tags: Gillan Eru
Ah, chit.
Jem slowly swiveled to face him, her expression pinched and contained as she frowned up at the robed form of ... what was his name again? Gilmo.
She took it all in. His indignation, his threats, his puffy cheeks. Damn. She had not made a friend out of that one. Wasn't her fault he was so fun to stab. He meant business too. Her breath slipped through her teeth in a slow hiss.
"If you don't get out, I swear I'll tell the masters!"
"Fine. If you say so." Jem slid out, unbothered as she broke for fresh air. "Hey, can you turn that off for me?" She looked over her shoulders, his frame hovering over her shuttle for--
A pulse of the force slammed into him.
She rushed in after him, a jumble of limbs colliding in the tight space as the door closed in behind her. She found space for her knee in his back. She only needed to press one button and autopilot took over.
"Hey, can you turn that off for me?" He stared at her for a moment. Did she really just give in? Well, that was easy. "Fine." He grumbled, trying to hide his relief with his angry expression. He walked past her, still staring somewhat cautiously at Jem, before turning his attention the shuttle's control systems. "Uhh, what did you want me to turn off agai-" Gillan yelped, eyes widened as he lost his balanced and fell into the shuttle's small cockpit. He immediately tried to get back up, but Jem was lightning fast, using her knee and weight to keep him pinned in the tight space.
Realising what she was doing made him surrender rather quickly.
"Force reprimand us…" He mumbled, slamming his fist down against the durasteel floor. He could still try to blame her after they had landed, but chances were he would be seen as her accomplice. And what was the punishment for stealing a shuttle? Expulsion? He didn't dare ask. "Jem. What did you do?"
"What does it look like, we're going to help." She crawled off his back, her limber legs pulling up into the chair she sent him crashing back on. She plucked open his com device and yanked out the power source.
A brow raised at him as she did so, his confusion clear as day.
"Jakku. The sos on the Active Forces channel? Do you not listen?" No, and neither should she. They were padawans with comms strictly bared to anything that didn't pertain to them. At least, they should be.
She closed up his busted com and tossed it back to his dishelved form. "Well Buckle up, cause we'll be there soon." The drag of entering hyperspace pulled down on their limbs.
Occupation: Sith Apprentice to Darth Tennacus
Objective: Kill the Light Friends
Weaponry: Crimson Cross-Guard Lightsaber "Hope's End", DL-22 Blaster Pistol, and the Dark Side
Engaging: Ishani Dinn
and Vaylin
"Pets? You will find Niall is no simple pet, he is too a Sith in many ways." He kept his words short, seeing as one enemy planned to dash forth, he simply gave a bit of distance by backing up next to the Loth Wolf. In doing so he was not disarmed by the walk, trot, to dash, instead he was at the ready. He caught the butt of the advancing man's weapon with the force, and as the Zabrak Warrior came forth he guided said pole arm's back end in front of her- roughly, and held it there. This would only serve as a bit of a stopper, maybe she would still go for the attack, and simply destroy her ally's weapon. If it wasn't made of some material of great strength, as most were.
The wolf saw all this, through Senthral's eyes, and his own. In a way this gave him knowledge for the next move, and yet he was unmoving as the enemy came forth. Senthral threw a glare towards the wolf after, with those matching pitch black eyes, it was almost reality warping seeing themselves through each other's eyes. Yet when it was done, they almost knew one anothers very thoughts, much you could read through eyes, especially those shared they had. With that the wolf retreated into the shadows a ways away, and yet watched still. "My eyes from afar, you will not see Nihil battle today. He is either a champion, or nothing, naught but what I make of him. For now, you two face me alone, though a battle changes constantly, even now."
He released the weaponry of the name-caller from the force's grasp, and raised his own 'saber, sidestepping so he was centered between the two. Already the Dark Side was at work on something else, his will had come down hard on the remaining Xenomorph, freeing it to charge at them. It was a bloodthirsty charge, and yet one ever so cautioned. "Watch your backs." Again the Dark Side was at work, though on what now? Some Ancient Art assuredly.
Clearly, this Sith had never dealt with a Mystic before.
As Senthral caught Arlo’s spear and jerked it toward the Zabrak, there was a sound like the rumbling of distant thunder. Arlo resisted Senthral’s manipulation of Force energy, creating friction in the air, static electricity that popped and crackled.
He swung his weapon toward Senthral again, and again, and again, beating his willpower against the young Sith’s. His goal was to wear the boy down, forcing him to take up his weapon and fight without any sorcery.
Meanwhile, Ishani turned toward the Zabrak. “Uh, sure,” she said. Gesturing with her hand, she sparked a fire that ran along the other woman’s blade, burning brightly. “It’s um, just a little applied Pyrokinesis…”
The Sith said something about watching their backs. Ishani instantly turned around, facing the opposite direction of her allies. She saw the Sithspawn charging toward her, and she darted out of the way, her lightsaber and blade slicing toward the beast. It evaded her, heading for Arlo and Vaylin.
She leaped toward it, aided by the Force. It changed course again, again escaping her, but at least it was no longer aimed at her allies. Ishani landed hard in the dust, and the beast was upon her in a moment, saliva dribbling from its maw.
Her gaze became so intense, her eyes seemed to glow. With a furious cry she reached out in the Force and flung the Sithspawn away. Its claws skittered in the sand, momentarily stunned. But a moment was all she needed to drive her rage into its mind, seizing control.
“Kill the others!” she snarled, directing its hunger toward its fellow Sithspawn. It had been less than a year since she turned away from the path of the Sith, and the Dark Side remained easy to call upon in her time of need. “Devour them!”
Romi loosened her wrist and beckoned back a step, her saber swung free of her deadly grip. She could sense that the collective strength of the Enclave was continuing to fade and that they were starting to doubt their ability to prevail--heck the thought even ate at the back of her mind.
She got nothing she sought, only fear from the heathen beneath her.
She could not kill an unarmed foe, not like this, even one who had thought to destroy the Jedi order ... even when she was in a hurry to help the others.
"I'm going to let you live..." She interjected, "Only because I want you to remember how I showed you compassion...when you tried to kill me. Because, I want you to remember how you came here to destroy everything I tried to build...the lives lost? I want them to weigh on your conscious until you realize how wrong you were...I want all of this to drive you, all of you, to change. So that you'll realize your master doesn't value your life...but I did."
A beat.
"That said. I'm still going to knock you out." Using the back of her clenched free hand to bloody his scarred lip, Romi sat up as his body went instantly limp, his arms and body flopping to the sand as though his get up were filled with warm meat. She took a moment to scan all the conflict around her, whipping her head around all she could see—and feel—was dread.
It was Zark San Tekka
& Dagon Kaze
she could feel nearby, with Dagon being the closest. She spotted white flashes that started disappearing around the toppled end of a sand wall. She assumed it to be Dagon, and she fairly flew after him, pursuing him up and over piles of rubble and debris--for a rendezvous.
However, somewhere on her route--she pulled back, digging her heels into the sand as if to half her advance.
She came to a brief standstill opposite him-just long enough to answer his sneering grin with a glare.
Zark San Tekka
The Mongrel
|
Katachi Ren
Keilara Kala'myr
