Faction Blood for Blood | SO

[Srina Talon]

Alvaria: Darth Carnifex | Quinn Varanin | Jorryn Fordyce | Darth Avida | Darth Prazutis | @]Lysander von Ascania @]Darth Caedes | Seela Leini | Kasir Dorran | Ivalyn Yvarro | Ansisa | Eira Dyn | Veradun Sharr
Location: Space - Nerby Systems

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Fear and nightmares flooded unchecked into the starving phobis, which meant, that she also witnessed the terror that was engulfing the city. She could feel it all in the back of her mind in the form of an eternal burden…But her resolve could not be broken. Her will was made of iron and no matter the pandemonium Echnos City fell toward—She would remain. She followed the fears of her Sith with a more vested interest than the rest. It behooved her to know, to understand, what plagued them in this most challenging hour. In Kasir Dorran she found the lost child.

The little boy who lived on the streets of Dromund Kaas. Abandoned.

The memory would feel changed, just slightly, in her profane intervention. His rage was fuel for the fire, a breath of life, but he would notice a flickering difference in what he recalled. A whispering female figure with long white hair who stood with the boy rather than looking down on him. There were no words. Merely, an invisible hand to the shoulder. Her power—Their power. It would make him stronger, more resilient, if only he managed to channel his fury and accept the truth beyond the pale.

He never had to be powerless again…He never had to be that boy again.

That was what she offered her people.

The images that haunted his mind, bringing back memories of his past, continued flowing like waves; yet amidst the confusion, another vision began to form, one that brought no physical strain, but rather a feeling of unexpected comfort. As he gazed upon his younger self, there was a figure beside him, almost maternal in nature, with a hand resting on his shoulder. All the pain began to ease, bringing forth a sense of clarity. Kasir’s inner turmoil was relieved, even if only for a moment. It made him feel more determined, causing the flames within to grow, driven by the force of some kind of new understanding. Everything clicked in that moment.

The Second Mirror of Echnos.

Pain.

It was an agony that did not belong to her, yet it momentarily braided itself through nerve and marrow as if her own body had been opened with the Qâztharûn. A phantom heat scorched her ribs before it turned into a freezing absence that left the edges of her consciousness raw and lined with ice. Kasir Dorran . The memory of a hard-fought battle returned to her in earnest. The moment in which she had brought the horror of the Phobis Engine into existence, and conversely, the Second Mirror that had metaphysically taken her hand to bring it online.

That type of power had a price…And the pale Empress had made the Sangnir, as well as many others, a hinge to a door that only she could open. Now, as he screamed—That door was screaming.

Srina did not rise.

The stone of the throne of Alvaria was winter-cold against her spine. Spreading like wildfire, all around her, black crystal continued its less-than-patient ascent. It moved up pillars, jutting out in transparent perfection, across shattered fresco, and through the roof in a framework of night. Every drop of blood that had been spilled answered her call, and the surface of this world began to groan under her iron will before subsiding.

It was as if tectonic plates were shifting, changing, to make way for something new.

"I hear you," carried His voice upon the wind, caressing her ear with each succulent syllable. "Always."

The response she received from Darth Carnifex was not something she heard, but felt it arrive through the phylactery around her neck. It beat against her skin and seemed to echo with the grave inevitability of the Butcher King—But the white-haired Echani was not so easily satisfied. He heard her always…

”But you are not here.”

The statement was issued with a particular quality, something that mimicked both disquiet and the tones of a woman who did not expect to be denied for any reason. Not because she was an Empress or because he was a King…

But because She called. She asked. She—Waited.

They were more than what they had become.

Srina did not look up when another presence approached the throne room, though the picture that she made, surrounded by such sorcery, would do well to warn anyone of her current temperament. She might have appeared expressionless, without emotion, but few would know what churned in the deepest recesses of her being. She could feel the signature of someone halting at the threshold and molten orbs slowly turned toward Jorryn Fordyce with all the intensity of a falling star.

They had a physical likeness, but it was the hunger of a scholar in her that she noted first, something that would likely go hand in hand with cruelty. There was no other option because if her fascination with arcane practices such as this were her flavor…It could not exist without agony. The display of deference was correct if she had ever given a damn about etiquette; thus, she let it be. There were no sepulchral present to bark in her ear that all belonged on their knees.

“Rise, child.”, the order came swiftly, not a question, and gold-hewn orbs flickered with some sort of hawkish familiarity that would seem out of place. Jorryn did not know her. Srina, knew Jorryn—Because she existed in the orbit of her daughter. “I have heard interesting things with your name attached.”

There was no indication of whether these things were “good” or “bad” in any context, but Srina did note the odd wording of the greeting. What was it that this Sithling hoped she might be? Echani? Cold? Monstrous? If these were on the list, then perhaps what the young one stated held some modicum of truth. Her eyes flickered…Ever the teacher, even, amid what equivocated to a mass funeral. She lifted her hand, and the dark lattice-work of crystal pulsed once in reply. It was as if they spoke. “Attend...Watch and learn if you have interest in the alchemical—But I will warn you only once….”

“Do not get in my way.”

It wasn’t a threat, nothing so plebian, but a requirement for survival.

Her focus turned away from the first warrior to arrive, and her head angled as if listening to rain through a ruined roof. She could feel Quinn’s urgency cutting through the estate like a silver thread while the shining formations fed her the vow from Trayze Tesar with startling clarity. Darth Malum of House Marr had always mistakenly assumed that his allies were a sum of none…It seemed—He was wrong. She could feel two smaller heartbeats tucked close beneath the guard of the Princess, and Srina knew it would not be long. Quinn Varanin was never one to disappoint her, even if there was something in the air that left her troubled. Perhaps the interaction with the mother. ( Ansisa )

The damage that had been done to Kasir Dorran clawed at her through the Force. She could not leave the throne. If she stepped away now and completely cut her concentration, the new material that she had forced into existence might start swallowing everything. The different factions could reach again for each other’s throats, and Alvaria would drown twice in the same day. So…She reached out the only way that mattered.

The only way she could.

The rapidly blackening crystal responded swiftly. It knew him, having already tasted of his essence, sweeping the ichor down into smooth stone and earth so that it could join the rest of the fallen of Alvaria and propagate.

"Shaari nak drazh…", Srina whispered, and the throne’s crown of midnight glass shivered, power rolling through it as if it were made to hold the Darkside itself. She did not speak to her warriors this time, not her people, but to the fallen Sangnir. Across the estate, a thin black seam opened in the air, and Srina’s teeth snapped together hard when Veradun Sharr removed the banner pole from her Second Mirror.

He was shattered.

The planar tear that she had made let her see how a young man with equally dark hair seemed intent on saving his “brother”…But Srina could feel the extent of the harm Darth Prazutis had incurred. It wasn’t just physical. The artificial crystal that had fed on him, on what blood he had lost, crept toward the feet of Kasir like a moth darting toward flame. It didn’t impale as the banner had, but sluiced forward to cover his wounds, and fill the holes that had been left behind. Filaments as fine as spiderweb danced across his torn flank and over the “absence” caused by the runeblade, swiftly, so that his savior would not pull him away. Her eyes fell shut while she began her weaving, and several black cradles grew around his injuries that were so great…The task felt insurmountable. <<I promised…You would never have to be powerless again.>>

<<Never have to be that little boy, alone, again.>>

Even if he hadn’t thought about that day since, Srina did not lie. She always kept her word…Even if it didn’t look the same except to her eyes. Where the Qâztharûn had ripped the Force away, her lattice lay down a counter-script, runes of containment and separation folding over it, binding, while keeping Kasir Dorran stable as Veradun Sharr did all he could. The crystal drank in only the particular brand of malice that such a terrifying blade had left behind and redirected what would seek to lay him low.

It replenished what it took. It gave of the souls it held—Taking his place.

<<…You are not permitted to die where someone else can claim the meaning of it out from under you. You fight, because you must. Take my hand as you did once before... >>

Her tone was the same as Echnos. Precise, cold, and protective to the point of obscene violence.

<<Fight—Drink as your savior bids...and...wake up.>>

Srina would not lose another, not when Malum of House Marr had seemingly been ripped away without rhyme or reason. She did not like it when things were taken from her, especially when there was no explanation to her questions other than silence. She tightened the crystal weave over the worst of Kasir’s wounds, and a single sliver of black glass broke away, thin as a needle, and threaded itself beneath his skin as an anchor.

It would remain nearest to where his heart would lie.

No.

She would not lose another to hubris and folly.

The alabaster Echani raised a hand to her temple to stem the tide of an aching head due to the risk of splitting her focus. Slowly, her digits lowered, and she turned her consideration back toward Quinn Varanin and the cargo she shuttled forward with Trayze Tesar in tow. The crystals would move and guide them, bringing them wordlessly down unfurling pathways, and straight to the throne room…Hopefully without incident. “There are many moving parts to this nation Jorryn Fordyce …”

“You will need to forgive my distraction.”

Srina had already called for her warriors once, politely, and without criticism or shame. She was not in the habit of repeating herself, and she would not be ignored. The Empress would not be the entertainer that distracted those before her, that lied to them, about how dire things had become. Her presence on Alavria was not a whim, nor some misguided attempt to change what the Sith were.

They needed the war.

They needed to fight.

She was simply what arrived at the end of that battle, wise and weary, to guarantee the slaughter stopped when needed. Srina would ensure that it remained contained so that the entire system didn’t fall into a state of cascading failures due to a delicate ecosystem being blown to hell. Alvaria would be remembered as the planet that once had a boy-king, fated, fabled, and troubled. The future would know this event as the Silence of Alvaria. The moment their King was gone. The moment the reaping began…

The moment it ended.

This world was wounded...The point had been made. No more.

 

[Jorryn Fordyce]

// Lady Jorryn Fordyce //
// Objective I // Alvaria // Hold the Line //
// Focus // // Quinn Varanin // Ansisa // Darth Carnifex // Darth Avida // Lysander von Ascania // Darth Prazutis // Trayze Tesar // Veradun Sharr // Kasir Dorran //

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Amber eyes watched carefully as the crystals continued to rise in an orchestral tempo with the passion of their creator, a gaze of wonder and curiosity following the opalescent appendages reach towards the sky as the Empress of the Sith. Ashen flakes of dust fell from the ceiling as the crystals took root amongst the stone and wood of Malum's manor, dancing downward before joining with the ever expanding growths.

The sorrowful cry of the earth beneath them gave way to its new form, an alchemical rebirth reshaping all those that had fallen in the battle. A grand burial of sorts, Jorryn supposed.

The former Lord Inquisitor's time amongst the Sith Order was still ephemeral, weaving in and out of the boundaries of her new home as quickly and quietly as her whims deemed her to be. Stories of the empress had caressed her ear numerous times, as well as those from Quinn herself, but the spectacle unfolding before her was treat to her alone.

She remained the only company of her Echani sister, for better or worse, and the fact wasn't unnoticed by Srina as the glare fell on the silver-haired Sith alone.

Hands delicately folded in front of Jorryn as she raised herself upon the Empress' command, the passion of the woman's presence and stare contrasting to the unfeeling face she presented. The calm demeanour the words fell upon her ears with did not call it a command as such, but with a flash of her golden eyes it seemed foolish to await more direct orders.

It was clear that the Empress expected more than the Echani's singular company, and Jorryn herself hoped that her charge would arrive soon. The extended delay only made the silver-haired Sith worry that her departure from the Princess' side was ill-timed, that perhaps it would have been best to stay by Quinn's side to ensure her safety.

There was little concern for Quinn's safety however. The girl held enough strength in her to tame the Sith, even those that sought to claim Malum's treasure. But the people she sought to save on the other hand...

A small breath escaped her chest, hoping that her charge's mission was as unharmed as she herself was.

An eyebrow lifted as the Empress of the Sith called on her to attend, but not interfere, and admit knowledge of the reborn Echani's existence. Words from Quinn perhaps? Regardless, the opportunity to observe the grand magics of Srina would be seldom few, and Jorryn had never been the type to shy away from such power.

"It would be my pleasure to attend, Empress."

As Jorryn stepped near the throne of Alvaria, her own presence in the force felt small. Smaller than she had ever thought possible since her rebirth, yet no feelings of envy or insignificance invaded her mind. It was filled with sheer wonder instead. A hand lifted near the throne, only tapping into the force enough to sense the presence and fortitude of the Empress' newest creation. She wished badly to assist Srina in the weaving of alchemy, to engrave the creation in her own alchemical signature so she might even grasp a strand of the fabric her fellow Echani was weaving.

But she knew that it would only detract from the art unfolding in front of her.

Instead she observed, silently. Her amber eyes closed to sense the magics at work, the sensations of the Sith Empress that called to her children, dulled to Jorryn in their vastness, crept carefully along her skin as she listened. If even someone such as Srina felt difficulty splitting her focus amongst all her creation, then the noise was cacophonous to the other Echani.

Still, she would listen.

Until her empress spoke to her once again.

"Today has been a reminder of our people, but there is nothing to forgive." The words were soft, almost apologising from escaping the former Lord Inquisitor's lips. "You allow me enough to simply watch."

With the words, the Echani would remain silent by Srina's side. This had been the first time the workings of the Sith had been rebranded into her psyche. The ever hungry ouraboruos, never satiated by its own flesh. Licking at it's own scales like a snake misunderstanding it's own tail as carrion filth. It was a realm she thrived in, admittedly, though never as much more than an observer. Paper and words had been her forte in a past life, but as the hymn of the Empress' melody crept along her ears, this new life beckoned for her to claim more.

To be more.

Eyes shut as the Echani fell silent, a hand still daintily lifted to her side, a non-physical caress of the throne in front of her. If her presence was felt at all by the Empress, it would be as a dull tune hoping to mimic the works it was listening to. Like a child humming a melody their mother sung to them as they fell to sleep, croaking from a throat too young and inexperienced to ever create such music.

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Objective 2: You want to play with dead things? Okay, lets play.
Engaging: Helix
Allies: Darth Strosius Revna Marr Varin Mortifer Arris Windrun Mercy
Enemies: Darth Nefaron Lirka Ka

Again Lina’s blade sliced through, only this time she struck nothing, Helix splitting his form to avoid her strike. His response had been immediate, her illusion ineffective. A simple droid might have been fooled by such a visual but Helix was far from simple. He adapted, and so would she.

The lightsaber cracked as he batted it aside with a regrown limb. The more he shifted, the greater her curiosity grew, what were the limits of his ever shifting form? She didn’t pause drawing back on light feet as the hammer tore through the air where she had been a heartbeat before, so close she felt the shockwave roll over her chest.

She darted forward into the edge of his next swing, a saber catching the would be haft of the hammer, using his own momentum to divert it away as her other struck lower, aiming to score a line across his flank.

Lina felt a shift in the battle behind her, the ripple of sorcery that wasn’t hers and the stench of death that was too potent to be Darth Nefaron alone. Something Lina simply could not ignore.

Something peeled away from Lina’s back as the shadows that tracked her movements thinned. A ghostly form of herself drifted away, mouth moving without sound as she began to weave her own spell. Sweat beading on her forehead as she strained to split her focus, to keep her standing in the battle with Helix and hold both forms.

Revna Marr and Darth Strosius would recognise the sensation, the familiar chaos of energy that would begin to rise as the blood of the dead began to shift, coming together in an angry red line beneath their foes feet, the whispers that began to rise only adding to the battle din as the portal to the Netherworld began to open.

 

[Ansisa]

Objective 1: Survive
Engaging Darth Prazutis Darth Carnifex
Others: Srina Talon Quinn Varanin Jorryn Fordyce Trayze Tesar Lysander von Ascania

Ansisa wasn't so prideful that Carnifex not only didn’t know who she was, but didn’t care. There were few who did, all of this was by design, yet his words about Malum not deeming her precious enough? That he didn't deem his children precious enough, struck a chord in her chest. But she refused to waver, the only outward sign was a slight narrowing of her gaze, which shifted to Prazutis.

All of this was beyond her, she knew it, yet that didn’t stop her as she stepped smoothly into his path. There was no fear there, only acceptance. Whatever pain she had to endure, she would, they would not get near the throne room without a fight. He assessed her, like a predator asses prey, Ansisa held his gaze. Whatever fear he saw was not for herself.

“I do not break.” The reply was soft, not spoken in arrogance or defiance. Simply a statement of fact.

A beat passed, before she moved, but it wasn’t just her. In a blink there were a half a dozen Ansisa’s, three converging on Darth Prazutis , lightsabers a blur as they sought to drive him back, while the other half rushed Darth Carnifex . Ansisa herself blinked out of existence, concealing herself from sight and in the force. Skirting the edge of the fight as she drew a pair of shikkar blades, her lightsaber unlit resting at her hip.

She was an assassin, her skill lay in slipping blades between ribs when no one was looking. She would play to her strengths, until she had no other choice.

 

[Lirka Ka]

It was almost the same as looking into a bleak, wonosan-tinted, mirror. All the fury and all the rage, trapped within the form of Varin Mortifer - she almost pitied him. Almost. She couldn't let herself grow too soft for the wasted potentials of evil that she encountered so many times - lest she'd likely fall (deeper) to insanity. Though the irony of it all was not lost to her.

She watched him tumble in the wake of her mighty throw, for just as flame licked away the wounds she had tore onto his body. The black foulness of Lirka Ka congealed and coagulated as the dripping globs of wrongness slowed and reached out to each other - as if they had some malign intelligence of their own. That was the way of brawlers forged for murder though, wasn't it? Nature was but another obstacle to overcome on the ever winding Dark Path, pain became the closest of friends, injury patched itself in unnatural power.

Were she not focusing, she might have even laughed at the whole destructive situation around them. Instead, only a distorted huff of air that was either exertion or amusement came from the metallic goliath - then she spoke, a nostalgic remembrance of another body, another murder.

"The stimulant's sweet siren song..."

She almost missed those days. Till her heart gave out at least. She took that moment, ever so brief, to brace herself, examining the now exposed flesh of Varin Mortifer - how foolish these Sithlings were. If it was a scar he wanted, it was a scar he'd get. She was ready now, as the mace came swinging at her again. A nimble lean to let the thing swing past her still simmering form.

What she was less ready for was the barrage of lightning that slammed into her body from Varin's mouth. Lirka was a conductive sort of beast. She could feel the energies running through her entire body, the undersuit already boiling from the barrage Arris Windrun had unleashed upon them all but boiled in its wake. It was agony, as it ever was. But Lirka Ka was a monster compelled by forces unnatural. It would take more than that to keep her down.

The lightning arced, surging through all she held. Including her weapons. Soon came the crackling roar as her mighty machete's filaments sprang back to powered existence. Good. It was playtime again. Her stance shifted suddenly as the Once-Sephi broke into a mad dash, seemingly running straight for the Wonosan -

- till she moved to run right past him. Little more than a cursory careening blow to slash across the man in her mechanized sprint. No her eyes were locked on a far more deadly nuisance - the newcomer had remained far too untouched in their little bout. And Lirka was loathe to leave a foe without something to remember her by, even as the round tore straight through her metal plates: a window to what lay behind her now opened within the Once-Sephi's rancid form - a window that would be plenty quaint to see whatever destruction her stimulant laden foe would bring down upon her for this mad dash. The smell of burning and bubbling chemicals filled the air from the hole left in her being as blackness came alight. A fiery demon of wrath unbound that still kept coming, for Lirka was not compelled by mere muscle and nerve. The whip crackled to life too as she sprinted, leaving bubbling globs of melted armor plating in her wake - it lashed out, striking high for the cyborg's face before she brought in a low sweep of her mighty blade down towards the girl's knees.

Blood for blood, after all.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

He thought it rather foolish for the woman to stand in the Mortarch's path, but that was about all He thought of it. It was neither commendable nor admirable to willingly throw one's self into the jaws of the beast, nor did those who did deserve pity or sympathy. The Eternal Father did not believe in self-sacrifice, nor did He believe in ideas of chivalry or honor. All that governed this universe was the immutable calculus of power, and those who could calculate it's byzantine arithmetic could control all that exist therein.

The Eternal Father didn't respond to the woman's soft-spoken statement, it barely even registered as speech in His mind. These animals could so rarely articulate themselves in His eyes, their constant baying and moaning rendered as little more than an irritation. In this, He could understand why she was not taken to wherever the Lord Marr had fled to. He sensed something deeper beneath the woman as well, He first sensed it by the narrowing of her gaze when He spoke of her abandonment.

Perhaps she bore a litter. It would explain her suicidal devotion to her absentee Lord, and the reason as to why she blocked the Death Lord's path. These creatures and their misplaced sentimentality would always remain a constant source of manipulation. But all of that could come later, for now a lesson was to be imparted.

"Forgive me," echoed His voice through the phylactery, heard only by the Empress herself.

"I shall be delayed for only a moment."

Only a brief tremor, the slightest twitch in the Dark Lord's fingers, heralded the sudden materialization of an equal amount of scintillating spears of ethereal energy; one for each of the phantom assassins that converged. Even as illusions, the Dark Lord tracked the movement of each simulacrum, charting the facsimile of their momentum and the triangulation of their trajectory in the same span it took to exhale. Awaiting them was the aforementioned spears of midnight black, angled to directly pierce each illusion right where their heart would have been.

Unlike the Mortarch, the Dark Lord could not parcel out where the real assassin had gone. So He waited, quiet and placid, like an explosive upon the precipice of detonation.

Ansisa | Darth Prazutis | Srina Talon
Quinn Varanin | Trayze Tesar | Lysander von Ascania
Jorryn Fordyce
​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​

The illusions closed in, flickers of blue and crimson, shivering mirages laced with desperation. They split, encircled, blurred, but to Xûl-Karzaan, they were children's games. The great helm saw beyond light, saw the threads of being itself. In His sight, the false bodies were hollow silhouettes, faint as smoke around a single living flame.

"You dare divide yourself before me?" His voice filled the corridor like an eclipse, a sound without echo, where every syllable fell heavy enough to bend the air around it. The Dark Lord's head tilted downward his voice dropped to a deadly whisper as the ghosts strikes came in. "Remember. You chose this."

Then Godflame was born. Not merely as lightning. But as true revelation to what was, and what had just occurred. The storm erupted from His palm in a single silent instant, crimson arcs that didn't so much strike as consecrate. The corridor became a pyre for falsehoods. Where the Eternal Father's spears had already passed, moving to impale illusion, the Shadow Hand unmade the stage itself, erasing even the shadows. The bolts tore through the remnants of deceit, sweeping through the hall like an infernal tide that scoured everything it touched. Stone melted. Air turned to liquid fire. The marble columns lining the hall flayed outward like petals of a dying star. And still, He advanced.

Each step carried the weight of collapse. The Godflame swirled around Him, not wild but disciplined, an orbiting halo of divine slaughter. The ground beneath His boots fractured, stone liquefying into molten glass. The walls wailed. Through the Dyad, He felt the Eternal Father's intentions, the surgeon's hand of inevitability, and He followed in perfect rhythm, the destroyer's hand of apocalypse. Their unified power at such proximity grew, multiplying on itself as two became one. Two movements, one intent. When the true presence flickered into the edges of His awareness, His will turned toward it, no cloak would give the Chiss refuge from his sight. The Force around them began to compress, the air bending inward toward a single point. It was not motion but command.

He did not raise His hand again, He simply willed it to be so and the force obeyed. Pressure surged from all sides, a gravity well of telekinetic domination. Space seemed to tighten, the Force rippling outward in silent distortion. Objects in the hall trembled as though awaiting their turn to be judged, banners twitching, shattered marble shifting, the dust itself levitating in slow orbit before disintegrating into heat.

"You skulk to the darkness, shrouding yourself in its embrace before me and think yourself safe?" The giant said through thunder. "The gall."

The hallway began to fail as the estate shook. Paintings, fixtures, and broken architecture shuddered loose from the walls, suspended in the telekinetic tide. His power reached for all of it, to unmake, to fold, to turn the corridor into scripture rewritten by destruction. A wave of unseen force surged outward from His advance, the raw gravitic pull threatening to tear the space apart at the seams. Through it all, the Godflame coiled and crackled around Him, its crimson arcs snaking through the air, seeking any defiance left to burn away. A dozen lances of lightning unfurled from His outstretched hand, snapping through the charged haze like predatory tendrils, a storm aimed to consume illusion, movement, and resistance alike.

The air screamed. The marble fractured.

Darth Carnifex | Srina Talon | Quinn Varanin | Ansisa | Jorryn Fordyce | Trayze Tesar | Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Helix]

Objective II
Equipment: Himself
Tags: Lina Ovmar / Lirka Ka / Darth Nefaron ​

Helix acknowledged the silent alarm when it rang out through his communication channels. It seemed Nefaron had come to agree that the numbers were not on their side.

Helix glanced upwards, giving off a silent signal of his own. Then the cavernous room's roof came away all at once.

The Aconite he'd called had arrived. Triple-barreled turrets swiveled, sending a fusillade of plasma fire indiscriminately downwards.

The night-black bolts carved massive, glowing craters in the chamber's floor where they landed, striking friend and foe alike without distinction.

Helix made a mental note to have the craft's brain recalibrated. Such weapons were not rated for this sort of close-in bombardment, but he supposed it was better than the torpedoes being deployed.

He didn't bother sticking around as the vessel's metallic tendrils unfolded from its underside, snaking towards them.

His disorientingly choral voice echoed in the comms of Lirka and Nefaron. "Escape is here, as requested. Make it swift, because they will not allow us another chance. Pick a line, any line."

As if to suit the action to the word, Helix allowed the lightsaber to part the haft of the hammer. The weapon's spiked head whirled into the air for a few moments as the weapon came apart.

Helix reached up, seized the truncated bludgeon from the air in his other arm, and reshaped it into a short, dagger-like blade. In truth, he'd pulled its form from memory. The weapon Nefaron had handed him, many nights ago on Anoat. Ovmar's other saber came round, carving another glowing rent into his flesh. The colony emitted a high-pitched whine of irritation, swinging the flensing blade downward towards the limb that held the offending weapon in a short, stabbing riposte. He didn't watch to see if it stuck.

Helix attempted to disengage, flipping backward into a surprisingly-flexible back-handspring for something so tall and gangly. His body dispersed once more into that fine, airborne particulate form. Reshaping underneath the hovering craft, he waved toward his compatriots.

"The novelty of this encounter has worn off. If you wish to leave, do it now."

 

[Trayze Tesar]

OBJECTIVE I - ALVIRA

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CURRENT MISSION - Won't Somebody Think Of The Children?
Immediate Goals -
1: Rescue the Innocents
2: Plot Vengeance upon the wicked

BLUFOR - Quinn Varanin || Darth Strosius || Revna Marr || Jorryn Fordyce || Srina Talon

OPFOR - Darth Carnifex || Darth Prazutis et. al

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Quinn Varanin || Young Masters Cecilia & Aureus (played by the lovely Ansisa ) & those en route to Srina Talon 's vessel.

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"We need to meet with my mother, please, Trayze, let nothing stop us…"

"Nothing shall, Highness." Trayze answered, a smile hiding a cold fire that could only come from a "do-or-die" notion - similar to Lady Ansisa 's fervor, but curtailed only through several chains of duty. The fire softened with him, as he addressed the two Chiss, stating calmly but firmly that they were to do training - to be "big and strong". Aureus, the young lad who's declaration to protect his sister caused the Kiffar's heart to swell and his eyes to moisten, would be given a small choice: would he share the honor of defending his sister with "Uncle" or "Marm".

Perhaps it was deliberately humorous, juxtaposing the chaos around with the almost teasing but rustically polite appellation to the Princess and Daughter of the Dread Lady - perhaps in such a strangely humorous setting where the young ones had control over their choices, that they had something to share rather than be taken or bartered in the game politick. That such a moment would ground them, and be something to go towards - a moment to laugh in spite of this terrible tragedy when all of this over.

Once the decision was made, one or both or neither of the children would find themselves in one pair of arms or another, Trayze demonstrating that sadly this isn't the first time he's had to carry a crying child away from a terrible, bloody mess. Whether Quinn would allow Trayze to take point, or shadow her as she lead them to her mother's protection.

He tries not to think about their mother, who faces against the Butcher King - a hundred cynical possibilities for the Tick of the Force to render the children orphans, the legacy of Malum scattered, and he be the sole, iron-gripped ruler of the Empire once again... but there was no time for that. None at all.

One foot in front of the other.

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

A L V A R I A

High Orbit

The Fleet - Wrath of Vahl
​

"Hearken and give obeisance, Hasuras na-Gerra. Our Lord Father, Highest of Highs, Eternal in Wisdom and Splendor, Perfection, Exalted in Might, Bestower of Faith, Compeller of the Unclean, commands us to commend the impious Marr into the arms of the Empress Talon. His will is to be obeyed without question, without hesitation. Rebel against His command and thou shall know only devastation. Hark to this truth, aspirant of Vahl; 'And His horn shall sound, and whoever stands against Him shall fall rotting and stinking upon the earth.' Obey His words, obey His truths."

The Vahlan warlord grunted at the message. So… the Empress already brokered some peace. He wondered what game she played at, perhaps seeking to move the pieces on this board into her demesne, to be seen as the peace bringer and uniter.

Wise.

Gerra would not move against the Empress. But neither would he sit idle after promising aid to kin.

“Open up a broadband transmission to the planet. Let them hear me:

People of Alvaria. Your world as it was… is no longer. But you are not alone. The Lady Revna Marr has sent me, Hasuras na-Gerra, Lord of the Wrath of Vahl, to grant you succor in your hour of need. Should any wish safe passage off world, my fleet stands ready in orbit to take you aboard.”

Ansisa Jorryn Fordyce Darth Carnifex Srina Talon

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Darth Prazutis Darth Strosius Veradun Sharr Srina Talon

​

The Kainite banner sang in his bones, a hymn that made every breath a punishment. Each inhale scraped like glass over stone; each exhale hissed black ichor onto the floor. Ravenous strands clung to his face, lids half open, nearly blind. His gaze fixed on the sigil carved into the iron shaft that pinned him upright. Kasir stared too long, as if peering into the abyss itself, and in return, the abyss began to stare back at him.

The world of Alvaria swam in and out of focus. Through it all, he would see something shift.. footsteps.. too smooth for the chaos that reigned here. And so, he caught only a smear of shape. Something in him knew. The elder Sangnir’s frame convulsed when his fledgling tore the banner free, a wet rattle in his chest. It was then the sudden absence of iron and the ache of being unmoored was truly felt, sagging into the pale Nagai’s arms like a corpse.

Lips like bruised roses trembled against the offered wrist, teeth clicking as if he might bite, might refuse.. might even curse this mockery of mercy. At first he stared at it like something he had forgotten to use. But then his body betrayed him once more, the throat working. The first attempt was clumsy, smearing across his chin.. wasted. The second time, he swallowed. Skeletal hands rose to clutch Veradun’s wrist. The dying ember of his orbs finally caught a breath of air. Poison or salvation.. he was unsure, but in his given state.. it truly made no difference.

And then, something else slithered into his senses, cold filaments threading through ripped flesh, like spider silk stitching across damaged nerves. His body arched, another shudder coursing through him. The ichor hissed where the lattice dared touch it, the steam rising as the they mixed. The woman's voice, more of a weight than an actual sound, pressed into his essence, words a verdict that he could never defy.

The whispers of the devoured souls were then drowned out, replaced by the crystalline hum of her weave, an instrument of control.

In the depths of Kasir’s ravaged mind, the boy resurfaced like a creature of a nightmare, a nameless specter from the streets of Dromund Kaas, thin and forsaken. But he was not alone. As in Echnos, she was there, her white hair a defiance against the darkness that consumed the city. Her hand rested on his shoulder, a phantom of comfort and a familiar promise that whispered through the ruins of his shattered psyche. His fingers stilled, yearning to grasp that ethereal presence, as his breath steadied into a shallow cadence. The memory did not heal him, but it rooted him.. tethering him to a time and place where he felt some semblance of belonging.

The wound spasmed before locking as runes crawled like serpents across his chest. An inferno raged, then ice smothered it entirely, so that the void inside him was sealed.

The shard beneath his black heart hammered once.. twice, dragging him back from the grave. Kasir’s jaw snapped, fangs glinting, claws tearing in the soil.

Seconds crawled before that rage ebbed.

Pupils narrowed into slits, that familiar feral glint rising from them. He turned his head toward the seam where Srina Talon 's presence bled through. Lips split and wet with anima shaped a single word, strange upon the tongue, and for the first time in his existence, it was voiced into the air.

“Mother..”

Though his fealty was sworn eternal to another, he could not deny this truth.. she had given him a name within the void, a place to stand, an identity that would become impossible to ignore.

Thin as smoke, a tendril uncoiled, groping through the distance until it found her in the shape of a vow.

<<The Prophet of Bogan commands my blade. You hold my blood. And both truths are now eternal. Where my blade strikes for Him, my blood will answer to you, should you summon it.>>

"My little brother," he breathed, voice strained, "you are my heir, my successor. Not in death.. but life. While I breathe, you will grow beyond me."

The fog of defeat pressed upon him, more so than any loss ever borne, a new shadow not so easy to repel.. for now, at least. Beyond that, an oath of his commitment to Veradun Sharr .

Slowly, his weight shifted, until knees sank into the glass, as Alvaria continued to die around them. Kasir kneeled in ritual, the very act itself sealed the charge he had given, a final offering to the darkness that would consume them all.

 

[Mercy]

Location: Fiviune
Allies: Arris Windrun
Direct enemies: Darth Nefaron | Darth Strosius
Opps: Anyone standing in her way, Helix | Lirka Ka
Others: Revna Marr | Lina Ovmar | Varin Mortifer

Even the greatest beast, a monster the size of a mountain, could be buried beneath an army of ants.

So it was when Nefarion raised the dead and sent them for her. They came in waves. She punched one, tore another's head clean off, ripped a third limb from limb. But still they came, and where Mercy had stood moments before, now there was only a writhing mound of corpses trying to smother her beneath flesh, gore, and rot.

But buried didn't mean dead.

@Revna Marr and @Darth Strosius would recognise the sensation, the familiar chaos of energy that would begin to rise as the blood of the dead began to shift, coming together in an angry red line beneath their foes feet, the whispers that began to rise only adding to the battle din as the portal to the Netherworld began to open.

The corpse-hill trembled. Then it erupted, an explosion of shredded bodies and howling spirits, as dark shapes tore free and clawed toward the sky, ripping through the ceiling right as said ceiling started to be bombarded by Helix's ship. They were made of stitched-together souls, the same ones Mercy had broken and bound during her Kaggath. Her wings.

They had never left her. They lingered in the Netherworld, still grafted to her through the Dark Side. And now, with reality itself cracking open, they came screaming home. Right in time as they deflected some of those blasts. Instead of incinerating their Sith Lord, they send the explosions rocketing into the walls of the building.

Bringing it down around them.

"Oh, now you've fucking done it, lads." Mercy's voice cut through the chaos, hungry and certain. She rose from the carnage, gore sliding off her armor, framed by the two cleaved halves of the undead mound.

Strosius had struck her twice after she'd made it clear she wasn't here for him. That kind of stupidity deserved correction.

Her image blurred. The world slowed to a crawl. She appeared before Strosius in a rush of displaced air, her fist slamming forward with enough force to cave in his chest. Even if he tried to move, she would try and intercept, to find her already there. Her speed and focus collapsing openings before they could form.

Behind her, the wings moved like living weapons, tendrils of spectral flesh and bone lancing toward Nefarion from every direction at once.

"Sheesh," Arris muttered under her breath, then called Mercy over their shared comlink. <"How serious do you want me to be?">

Rip them to shreds. Arris' would feel Mercy's voice burst through her like a storm of horses. Violent, aggressive and utterly pissed off. That didn't happen that often. But having to explode your way through a pile of the undead had a way of ruining one's mood.

 

[Eira Dyn]

Objective: 1
Equipment: Lethal Pursuers, vibro-sword, blaster pistol, mask
Outfit: Assassin Attire
Tag: Open

The sounds of war going on outside, it was clear that this place once tied to Lord Malum was likely to facing destruction. Any symbols of lost lords were often brought down. Especially those who were divisive. Eira was not surprised that the same was likely going to happen here and there was a twang of disappointment in her mind since it was history being lost due to petty rivalries and feuds. Her fingers caressed the walls as she pondered if some day that her own place of residence would face such backlash after she has left. Though she would not have vanished from the galaxy. Eira would only leave this plane of existence through death.

There was too much to achieve. Too much power to obtain to just disappear.

Perhaps that is the difference here. In death there might have been a martyrdom, sympathy showed towards Malum that protected the Tsis'Kaar, his residence and those who followed him. Especially if his demise was valiant or honourable. Eira wasn't usually one to consider these steps in life since she feared delving into them was to invite them into existence, and she planned to live a very long, deadly life. But being in this place and hearing the conflicts that were going not far from her, it brought the ideas to mind.

"No... fleeing to the shadows... that is not something I shall ever do. My name will be etched in history with equal parts respect, fear and admiration. I will not let this also befall me." Eira spoke to herself, finding renewed resolve in finding her footing, finding her place within the Sith Order. Rebuilding the determination to be a great threat, the infamous assassin that caused fear just by name.

A legacy that was not forgotten or torn down. That wouldn't be her. That couldn't be her.

"I guess time to leave... Before someone mistakes me for Tsis'Kaar..." Eira sighed, having hoped to explore more and learn more.

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

Objective: 2 Fiviune
Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Tags: Darth Nefaron / Lirka Ka / Revna Marr / Helix / Lina Ovmar / Varin Mortifer / Mercy / Arris Windrun
--------------------------------------------

The masked man muttered a curse as Nefaron was thrown out of the way of the hail of debris, the corpse wretch was remarkably lucky it seemed. But fate had no favorites and luck always ran out eventually. Even if it had to be carved out deliberately, and Darth Strosius was more than willing to take the time to do so. Before He could shift to set upon His fallen foe however said foe had the gall to rise up. And with him rose the dead, apparently. Which genuinely seemed to make Darth Strosius pause in surprise.

He had seen those that could make the dead walk and serve before but to do it so quickly on a whim was new, unnatural even. Definitely disturbing. Even more surprisingly however was that none of the risen were being aimed at Him, instead another tide of broken building parts and fallen arms was sent His way and He was forced into action. Darth Strosius raised His blades and cleaved into the whirl of debris with a calculated yet deceptively wild array of strikes, the tendrils that comprised His wings joining in the fray to aid in blocking or deflecting the shrapnel of blades and ruined materials.

By the time that He had batted away the last of the hurled objects He was distracted by a distinct sensation within the Force, something familiar and no less distressing that the horde of moving corpses. The Netherworld's sickening presence was beginning to worm its way into the room and He cast a wary glance at who He knew the source to be. "Lady Ovmar, what are you-" The crash of the ceiling being torn open by a barrage from some newly arrived ship overhead cut off His question and forced Him to raise His lightsaber upwards to cleave through a stray bit of falling roof.

More than likely the cowardly trio was about to make their escape, having not expected any great resistance to their slaughter. Darth Strosius could hardly allow that to happen. Not when they were all three right here in their grasp, outnumbered and cornered by their own foolish ambition and pride. He'd tear that ship out of the sky before they could leave. But He had been in place too long, too rigid in the battle at hand. A fact that He was rather quickly reminded of as a fist suddenly slammed into His stomach.

His chest plate cracked and with it more than likely a rib or two given how His lungs seized, forcing a choked exhale from the masked man as the interloper buried her fist into His chest. Evidently she had some "wings" of her own, oddly enough, which were moving to assault Nefaron. More than likely to hamper any escape attempts. A pity that she decided to hamper Him as well. He gritted His fangs as He dropped His sword, moving to wrap His newly freed hand around the one that she had hit Him with.

"Get the feth out of my way!" Violet lightning arced from the tips of His clawed gauntlet as He reaffirmed His grip on His lightsaber and swung it down to try and cleave through the interloper's shoulder, His robes soon dancing with arcs of crackling lightning as He sought to scorch and skewer His opponent. A preview of what He was about to inflict upon the wretched trio once He had finished dispatching with this particular interruption.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

FIVIUNE​

The moment of exertion even through the numbness of the drug stunned Varin. His body shaken from the amount he had taken in. It was his first time using the device and the drugs within it, the trauma leaving its evidence on his body. He couldn’t even move as Lirka charged right past him, a bladed gauntlet slamming into his face knocking him to the side and into the wall nearby with a resounding crack and a gasp of air leaving his chest. A crack was felt in his ribs from the impact, a wheeze could be heard as he inhaled.

The wave of the undead could feel the wounded nature in the room and began to run towards him.

Get up boy.

Varin watched as they drew closer, he began to move his arms slowly trying to pull himself up.

Get up boy!

They drew nearer, the clacking of teeth and the sounds of hissing. With a primal yell he reached his arms forwards sending a torrent of flame towards the encroaching undead. Their screeches filled the room as well as their cooked flesh. The mace could feel the danger that was approaching Varin, almost like it had a mind of its own it flung itself back towards him and into his hand.

His grip on the handle felt like home. Tightly his fingers curled as his other hand wrapped around the bottom of the handle. He lifted the mace and with thunderous force he slammed it to the floor, shattering tile and metal that held a section in place, collapsing taking some of the undead with it. The hail of blasterfire rained down on them, the roof torn asunder. Varin ignited his saber and leapt to cover by some rubble as the plasma rained down over the room.

The rain of plasma fire further weakened the floor near him. Varin heard the crack which attracted his gaze. Before he could move another hole was made almost taking him with it before he grabbed ahold of the ledge at the edge of the new hole that was made. He had no idea what was beneath them and he had no intention of finding out.

The strain of his ribs pulsed throughout his body as the drugs began to dull down. His body weakening. His fingers dug into the floor as he attempted to pull himself up.

Lirka Ka | Arris Windrun
Tags: Open​

 

[Veradun Sharr]

Objective: Protec the Big Bro
Direct Tags: Kasir Dorran // Srina Talon ​

At first, it seemed to Veradun that his Sire might reject the life-saving offer of Anima. He would rather his brother take the substance willingly, but he was not against forcing the red liquid down his dying brother’s throat - if that was what it would take to save the elder Sangnir’s life.

Kasir managed to get a small taste, and it was all that was truly needed to ignite that predatory thread of survival. The fledgling didn’t flinch, didn’t move, when the other Sangnir latched onto his wrist. But even as the other drank the offered salvation, Veradun could see that his wounds were beyond the physical. Something else was at work here, within Kasir’s body. Something that had stolen, was stealing, bits of him - slowly but surely. His brother had been cursed by someone or something, and deep within a spark of violent wrath burst to life.

It was difficult not to demand answers from his brother, to learn the name of the one who had done this to him. All that Veradun knew was that it was a Kainite, if the discarded banner was anything to go by.

The Lowblood’s sharp gaze caught on to something taking place, and his pale eyes watched black, lattice-like ice begin to work its way over the opened and revealed wounds on Kasir’s body. He could sense power moving, fell sorcery that was not of his doing. A burst of territorialism erupted through the young Sangnir, but he pushed it aside. He was smart enough to know that he couldn’t save his brother on his own and he would welcome the aid of whoever saw fit to help Kasir.

Moments ticked by, and as a sense of weakness draped itself over the young Sangnir, he noticed that his brother’s breathing had even out and found a more subdued cadence. The fallen Sangnir muttered a word from bruised and bloodied lips, Mother, and the territorial sensation the former Nagai was feeling slipped away completely. He didn’t know who Kasir was referring to, but if the Sangnir wasn’t expressing concern over it, then neither would Veradun.

"My little brother…you are my heir, my successor. Not in death.. but life. While I breathe, you will grow beyond me." the wounded Sangnir said to his fledgling, his voice strained and taut. Pale eyes searched the searing, burning orbs that sat in the bloodied and pale face of Kasir. He allowed the words to settle over him, digesting them in silence for a long moment. Kasir, now seemingly strong enough to move, shifted until he was resting upon his knees over broken glass and other debris. Veradun remained close by, ever watchful and prepared to render aid to his brother should it be needed - acting as a sort of guard, almost. The wounds on his wrist had already begun to heal, though the process was slower than usual due to his own loss of Anima.

“I may grow beyond you, Brother. But I will not forsake you.” the pale youth responded in a low voice that rumbled in the space between them, as he cleaned the residual blood off his own wrist. He hoped that, in this moment, there was proof in his words. He had tossed caution to the wind to find Kasir here, and make his attempt to pull his brother back from the jaws of his final death. And he would do so again at a moment’s notice, if it came to it.

 

[Ansisa]

Objective 1: Survive
Engaging: Darth Prazutis Darth Carnifex
Others: Srina Talon Quinn Varanin Jorryn Fordyce Trayze Tesar Hasuras Na-Gerra Lysander von Ascania

“Fuck.”

The word was a whisper, she had known this was beyond her, she had known that her chances were minimal, she could have worked with the spears alone, Carnifex still didn’t know where she was, she might have had a chance to score a hit before she was forced to engage him dead on.

But Prazutis knew. He saw.

It wasn’t simply lightning her unleashed, but a power that transcended it born from the Godflame that enshrouded him, annihilating everything in its path. Stoned melted, the air burned acrid smoke burned her nose, heat searing her lungs as she drew in a breath, a mixture of fear and awe grasping her.

Then his gaze found her and so did his power. Pressing against her from every angle, she dropped the shikkars, shattering them on the stone as her cloak vanished. Her hands raised to push back against the compression, arms trembling with the effort, like she was holding back the walls themselves. Her ears popped, blood began to trickle from her nose whether from the pressure or the effort of keeping herself from being crushed it was unclear. Her red gaze snapping around her trying to find an advantage to use, a different angle.

There was only one option and she hated it.

With a grunt of effort the force folded around her again the pressure collapsing against itself as she teleported with a sonic boom that made the walls tremble. Her lightsaber hissed to life, the kyber within spitting as she appeared behind him, wasting no time in a strike at his unprotected back.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

Objective 1: Fivinue
ALLIED TAGS: Helix Lirka Ka , Veradun Sharr
OPPOSITION TAGS: Darth Strosius , Revna Marr Varin Mortifer , Lina Ovmar , Mercy , Arris Windrun ​

Nefaron's twisted hand grasped the metallic tendril that now hung from the collapsing roof, his mind still focused on the great horde of the dead as their weak frames broke under the power of so many Dark Lords. But the truth was that the Darza, that terrible band, the same that brought forth ruin to the Tsis'Karr, had accomplished its goal. Victory here meant nothing, for the outcome would have been the same if Darth Strosius had not come at all.

One of the great pillars of the Empire was gone. The old divisions and rivalries had flared to life once more.

This was the beginning of a culling that would take years, decades even. But the Empire was diseased by weakness and nobility, two things that must be cut away with a sharp blade and the flames of war. Strosius would live, of that Nefaron was certain, but Malum was gone from his side, and he was cast adrift in a dark sea. The Kainite, too, could not resist the bait that had been laid, and the Eternal Father appeared once more to seek the throne of the Sith by extinguishing the flame of an old rival. It mattered not who sat on the throne or who was bound by blood, for this would be a war of public opinion, one that would see the blood of countless Sith and Imperials alike spilled.

Nefaron knew as well that Malum's blood would live on. His spawn would escape this day, but soon enough, they would fall before the rising tide of evil.

For that's what the Darza is. What the Sith are.

Evil is in their nature. It's time it was embraced. ​

But let the High Prophet, the Empress, and Eternal Father claim victory this day. Let them claim that the forces of insurrection, upstarts against the old ways, had been cast down. Soon enough, terror would enter their hearts, and in the end, only Nefaron's shadow would hang over this galaxy.

But Nefaron was one to gloat. He would have this last jab.

"I have a gift for you, Darth Strosius!"

His voice, cruel and filled with horrid glee, rang out over the area even as battle continued. While the horde of the dead had served at Nefaron's command, he did not bother to maintain his grip upon them as he fled Fiviune. Instead, they would become wild beasts driven by hunger, and they would soon enough turn upon all, be they loyal to Nefaron or servants of the Kainites. A last reminder of what had been done this day.

"You were always so fond of ruining everything you touch, so do look on while the Tsis'Kaar eats itself! In the end, any victory you win will see you ruler of bones, nothing more!"

The Corpse Lord's laughter echoed as he rose yet higher, slipping Helix's vessel. While his plan had not succeded, this was but the opening phase of the long war.

A war that would turn in his favor.​

Yet there was one last thing to do. Veradun had not been permitted into the chamber to battle the High Prophet alongside his Master, but he had been given free rein to take part in the culling. But now it was the time for the Apprentice to return home, for him to be brought into the fold properly.

Nefaron activated his communicator, dispatching a simple message to the wayward Son.

Return to Anoat.

EXIT POST​

 

[Revna Marr]

Objective: Fiviune
Tags: Darth Strosius // Lina Ovmar // Varin Mortifer // Darth Nefaron // Helix
// Lirka Ka // Mercy // Arris Windrun ​

The fighting, while brutal and violent, was rather short lived. As soon as Nefaron and his allies realized that they were outnumbered - they began to set themselves up for an escape. Revna felt the shift in the fighting, a subtle thing - and she felt a familiar but no less bone chilling sensation as the Netherworld began to seep into reality. She could sense that it was Lina’s doing, and she frowned. Opening up gateways into the Nether, here, was dangerous - but she didn’t question the workings of the female Sith Lord.

What Revna did question, however, was if she would live to see the end of the fight when the roof exploded and a barrage of plasma fire rained down upon the chamber, killing friend and foe alike. The sounds were deafening, and out of instinct Revna erected a Force shield around herself in an attempt to protect herself somewhat. She all but flattened herself against one side, avoiding debris and the plasma bolts.

But that wasn’t the worst of her problems. Next came the undead, risen by the fell power of Darth Nefaron before he made a hasty and cowardly retreat. The dead, wanting nothing but flesh to feast upon, lunged towards the living occupants in the room - be they ally or enemy alike. Soon, Revna was not just trying to survive the barrage raining down upon the former Tsis’Kaar headquarters, but now she was slicing through charging undead with furious speed, and grumpily musing how her beloved would have commandeered these wretched souls and turned the tide against Nefaron once more.

If only she knew that power herself. Maybe something I should start learning more about…Sith necromancy - Revna thought to herself as she cleaved another undead in half, watching as gore and viscera spilled out from the two halves. It would be a skill that would come in handy, especially if Nefaron was going to be a problem for the foreseeable future.

Helix, the Bogan fething traitor, made his escape first…follow by Nefaron himself, but not before the supposed Corpse Lord could have the final word in whatever verbal spat he had taken up with her Father.

“Cowards!” she snarled, though her voice was lost amidst the din of destruction. She wanted to leap after the fool and rip him limb from limb…but she was swarmed by undead and forced to focus on them instead. And so she vented her rage, feeling her very soul burn inside as if she was on fire, as the others made their escape to live yet another day. The stirrings of hatred burned in her eyes as she watched their get-away shuttle depart, leaving her and the others to deal with the aftermath of what had just happened.

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Objective 1: Clean up the mess
Enemies: Lirka Ka Helix Darth Nefaron
Allies: Darth Strosius Mercy Varin Mortifer Revna Marr Arris Windrun


Lina felt the shift in the battle, the trio's final desperate attempt to do as much damage as possible in their escape. Her focus shifted, already split, as the roof was torn away, bolts of midnight black tearing into the chamber obliterating Tsis'Karr, traitors and undead alike. Her lightsaber found purchase, carving through the haft of the hammer and scoring a fresh line of molten metal. His riposte was swift, her reaction too slow as the dagger carved through cloth and flesh leaving a deep gash in his wake.

The pain focused her but when her sabers shifted to strike again Helix had leapt away dispersing and reappearing beneath their escape craft. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, her legs bending to give chase when the floor fell away behind her, snapping her attention backward to see Varin dangling from its edge.

The crackle of lightning drew her gaze upwards to see Strosius and Mercy entangled in a grapple as Nefaron escaped into the craft. The chaos he and Helix had created surged around her, undead tearing into anyone and everyone in a frenzy, bolts still raining down sending viscera and smoking bodies scattering. Revna was pressed against the wall, saber flashing to keep the undead from overwhelming her.

"Enough."

She did not raise her voice, she didn't need to. Her anger carried it, rippling outwards as she turned, once hand reaching for Varin, shadows peeled from the walls, twisting around his arms like vines, hauling him up from the ledge as she moved towards her echo. She reached into the shadows as she moved, pulling a staff from them, its runes already glowing, spurred by her fury and the dying around her.

Her two forms became one as she slammed its base against the floor, the screaming chaos of the nether portal beneath them replied, between the wail of souls and the snarls of the undead, creatures of darkness rose, ensnaring the corpses and pulling them into the portal, slowly at first, clearing them away, dragging them into the hell the belonged in. Blood ran freely from the gash in her forearm, Helix's wound serving to feed the tide as more and more shadow walkers came, consuming the undead in a swirling vortex.