Aeneis Valdemar
Character
Equipment: Respechel Armor, Curved Hilt Lightsaber, Scattergun (empty) , Enforcer pistol (empty)
They say that when attacks your home that you are supposed to only utilize a necessary amount of force to repel the assailant. But what the Eclipse Cult had done to Aeneis’ home could not be forgiven! What could one even consider necessary force against a group of darksiders that had raided their world and massacred hundreds? How could Aeneis call himself a soldier when he hadn’t been there to defend his world, unable to reach them in time? How was he to be the savior of the sentients of the Confederation if he couldn’t stand up and avenge those that had been lost? The answer to two of the questions was simple in the Arkanian’s mind. He couldn’t call himself a soldier, he couldn’t call himself a savior. At least not till he did what needed to be done. The more complicated question was what could be considered necessary force for such an endeavor?
The weight of the galaxy was upon Aeneis’ shoulders, the weight of the sentients lost, and he would soon shed it, and pay it back in blood. On the ex-soldiers belt behind his back was clipped a lightsaber, a curved hilt one. The obsidian color of the hilt blending in with colors of his orange and black armor. There were no grenades, not for this mission as the cultists were known to hold force users among their ranks. Which meant they could simply activate the grenades that Aeneis brought in. Instead the Corellian brought a scattergun, and an enforcer pistol. Simple weapons, sheerly mechanical and lacking the more electrical and technological of more modern weapons.
Looking out the viewport and down to the temple that sat before him Aeneis scanned it over. There were no signs of life outside the temple. From the information he’d managed to pry from the CNI spooks the report stated that a small enclave of the group had retreated to Byss and had been using the temple as a base of operations. A heavy sigh escaped the Arkanian’s mouth and with that he donned the helmet. No longer was he Aeneis, he was now Revento. He was the one who would avenge the Corellians.
The shuttle connected to a slave system continued to fly towards the temple, and shot over it at high speed. Though from it fell an object that blended into the darkness of the night. That object being Aeneis, who dived through the air. Closer and closer the roof of the temple came the longer Aeneis fell. In the air he spun, his feet now facing the building. With a thought the repulsors fired slowing the Arkanian’s fall.
Feet slamming into the roof of the temple the shock of force was absorbed through the armor, and immediately released blowing a hole through the roof. Dust, and chunks of stone fell free flooding the hall, clouding the sight of those within. With the debris was Aeneis, his silhouette the only thing visible, not even his presence in the force able to be sensed. The first few cultists unlucky enough to meet Aeneis met fates worse than death, their screams filling the halls.
Minutes passed, many of the cultists enjoying what had once been a peaceful slumber before the Corellian’s arrival. Those beings left on cots that were now bloodstained, holes peppering their bodies and bedrolls. The final chamber Aeneis kicked open a single individual at its center. The offshoot’s armor by the time he entered the chamber was painted with a thick crimson ichor, and sickening viscera. The helmet emotionless as the spent scattergun hung in his left arm. Right raising to the final individual, enforcer in hand the man pulled the pistol. Each bark of the pistol echoed off the interior of the chamber, the recoil of it traveling up Aeneis’ arm, absorbed into the armor. From it four rounds escaped the barrel piecing the air meant to end the true culprit’s life.
They say that when attacks your home that you are supposed to only utilize a necessary amount of force to repel the assailant. But what the Eclipse Cult had done to Aeneis’ home could not be forgiven! What could one even consider necessary force against a group of darksiders that had raided their world and massacred hundreds? How could Aeneis call himself a soldier when he hadn’t been there to defend his world, unable to reach them in time? How was he to be the savior of the sentients of the Confederation if he couldn’t stand up and avenge those that had been lost? The answer to two of the questions was simple in the Arkanian’s mind. He couldn’t call himself a soldier, he couldn’t call himself a savior. At least not till he did what needed to be done. The more complicated question was what could be considered necessary force for such an endeavor?
The weight of the galaxy was upon Aeneis’ shoulders, the weight of the sentients lost, and he would soon shed it, and pay it back in blood. On the ex-soldiers belt behind his back was clipped a lightsaber, a curved hilt one. The obsidian color of the hilt blending in with colors of his orange and black armor. There were no grenades, not for this mission as the cultists were known to hold force users among their ranks. Which meant they could simply activate the grenades that Aeneis brought in. Instead the Corellian brought a scattergun, and an enforcer pistol. Simple weapons, sheerly mechanical and lacking the more electrical and technological of more modern weapons.
Looking out the viewport and down to the temple that sat before him Aeneis scanned it over. There were no signs of life outside the temple. From the information he’d managed to pry from the CNI spooks the report stated that a small enclave of the group had retreated to Byss and had been using the temple as a base of operations. A heavy sigh escaped the Arkanian’s mouth and with that he donned the helmet. No longer was he Aeneis, he was now Revento. He was the one who would avenge the Corellians.
The shuttle connected to a slave system continued to fly towards the temple, and shot over it at high speed. Though from it fell an object that blended into the darkness of the night. That object being Aeneis, who dived through the air. Closer and closer the roof of the temple came the longer Aeneis fell. In the air he spun, his feet now facing the building. With a thought the repulsors fired slowing the Arkanian’s fall.
Feet slamming into the roof of the temple the shock of force was absorbed through the armor, and immediately released blowing a hole through the roof. Dust, and chunks of stone fell free flooding the hall, clouding the sight of those within. With the debris was Aeneis, his silhouette the only thing visible, not even his presence in the force able to be sensed. The first few cultists unlucky enough to meet Aeneis met fates worse than death, their screams filling the halls.
Minutes passed, many of the cultists enjoying what had once been a peaceful slumber before the Corellian’s arrival. Those beings left on cots that were now bloodstained, holes peppering their bodies and bedrolls. The final chamber Aeneis kicked open a single individual at its center. The offshoot’s armor by the time he entered the chamber was painted with a thick crimson ichor, and sickening viscera. The helmet emotionless as the spent scattergun hung in his left arm. Right raising to the final individual, enforcer in hand the man pulled the pistol. Each bark of the pistol echoed off the interior of the chamber, the recoil of it traveling up Aeneis’ arm, absorbed into the armor. From it four rounds escaped the barrel piecing the air meant to end the true culprit’s life.
Blame [member="Atlas Kane"] for the title