Duel Chaff from the Wheat

[Lord Creuat]

E X E C U T O R
ECLIPSE​

A new age had arrived. Opportunity was more now than ever. One, however, had to seize it in order to meld the future to their own whims. Atrisia remained intact, yet it was a pyrrhic victory for the Jedi and their Alliance. Like glass they shattered with no hope to undo the damage. The Empire like clockwork hurried with strategies to consume what was now a monument to history.

The Emperor was dormant with his occult practices, thus trusting leadership to his subordinates during his absence. For the Nautolan, however, it meant a new stepping stone for his quest for power.

And here he would begin awaiting for his subjects, the Dark Side Elite, at the head chambers of the citadel constructed for the Elite as a means to mock the Jedi.

 

[Imperius Indomitus]

LORD INDOMITUS
Through Fire and Blood.
Through Justice and Strength.
On the Anvil of War, We forge our Destiny.

Lord Creuat | Open

INFERO​

Eclipse | Citadel | Head Chambers

The call was made. They answered the summon.

With a hiss the doors slided open, Imperius just lowering His right arm from the console that opened the way into the chambers and stepped in. Sabatons clanking, deliberately slow and measured were the steps. A helmet with tall wings was in His left hand, neatly tucked into His armpit. The red tabard brushed against the floor, ever so slightly, its lower end showing the dirt it had collected, soiling the deep red and gold it had embroiled. Beneath was an armor of matte black, its edges with gilded highlights, a dragon head as the left pauldron.

"Executor." Came the calm voice of the tall Sith Pureblood accompanied by a brief and stiff bow of His chest, the black eyes remaining on the alien.

Imperius did not know the man in front of Him very well, but it was obvious that both passion and strength ran through his veins. One step below the Emperor, the Executor was the individual that upon His return, the Zakuulan sought to get to know. The only member of the Council that might have been worthwhile at this very moment.

 

[Casi Braste]

Lord Creuat Imperius Indomitus​

Casi strode into the room with the stern look on her face. It appeared she was early, compared to the rest of the Elites. She hoped that meant extra points with the Lord-Executor, but really she knew it meant nothing. Lord Crueat was the hard-ass of all hard-asses, and it was no secret she didn't like him. It was no secret that she didn't like any of the other Elites, she practically wore it on her face, a constant look of cold disdain. There was little emotion in her otherwise, the void of loss all consuming. She had chuckled after escaping the Death Star, watching it explode from the viewport of the Sepulcher, but that was the extent of what she had felt lately. Any hatred towards the Empire in that moment had subsided with the realization of what the Death Star's destruction had actually meant. She wasn't too eager to be arrive to the call from the Lord-Executor, given that the Elites had utterly failed in their mission at Atrisia.

She didn't say a word, only stepping up to the other man, one whom she had never seen before. The only clue she had of the man as she sized him up was that he was extravagant. Gilded, decorated armor made him look imposing, even without his tall stature playing as a factor, but compared to her austere black robes, it looked almost comically flamboyant. She wondered if he was from the Church, or even a Sith Lord, and she wondered what had brought him here. What had brought any of them to the Dark Side Elite, but fear of the overwhelming power of the Dark Side, and a yearning for greater power at their fingertips...

 

[Krasskorr the Maw]

FOOD: Lord Creuat Casi Braste Imperius Indomitus

​

To have lived through the Imperial defeat over Atrisia, he mused bitterly, only to face the humiliation of the Executor, Lord Creuat .

Perhaps the Dark Side Elite should have perished alongside the weapon. They had been summoned to the Eclipse for this specific, brutal purpose: to confront the glaring weakness within their ranks and determine, through trial, who was truly the strongest.

The Nautolan held the coveted position of second-in-command, a prize Krasskorr perceived as ripe for the taking. Unworthiness was a death sentence in this organization; anyone who could not safeguard the Emperor in his own throne room was certainly unfit to lead.

The door snapped open, the sound echoing sharply in the chamber and announcing his presence with a massive, hulking silhouette that stretched down the corridor floor. Krasskorr's twin-jaws snapped and closed with a predatory cadence as his unsettling, golden eyes settled on both Imperius Indomitus and Casi Braste .

They were strong, yes, but to the ever-hungry cannibal, they were also dangerously appetizing. His massive claw was already resting upon the cold hilt of his Lightclub. It would take only the subtlest provocation to unleash him, for the survival of the fittest was the only true law of the Dark Side of the Force.

 

[Meliant]

Location: Deep Core - Eclipse - Nameless Citadel
Objective: Participate

Attn: Lord Creuat Imperius Indomitus Casi Braste Krasskorr the Maw

Meliant's landed crouched in the center of the Dark Side Elite, coming down from high above. He might have been lounging in the rafters like an indolent cat. He certainly landed like one: his impact was muted, and he rose slowly, languidly, shrugging his cloak back over one shoulder.​

​

"Oh my, is that Casi Braste?" The words came out of the armor in a scornful hiss, slipping through the slits in his visor. "What a surprise. I guess daycare let out early."​

​

He snickered, evidently pleased with himself, and went slinking to an open spot on the outskirts of the little ring they were forming. Imperius Indomitus looked about ten thousand years out of fashion in that heavy armor, and Krasskorr, that beast, seemed only a moment away from drooling all over the floor.​

​

Well, with a Dark Side Elite like this, it was small wonder the Emperor thought he needed a Death Star.​

 

[Prowler II]

There was a soft tap that emitted down from the hall and corridor before any other sound could be heard. Rhythmically, it drew closer and closer, and still finally, footsteps also followed. They were not sturdy, not as they used to be, no. Instead, they were almost abrupt. A pattern and a gait that suggested steady, unsteady, and then steady again. There was nothing rushed in his stroll, which was a hint at what he thought about this summoning.

As the Elder approached the chamber, he seemed to lean on the staff that he clutched in one hand. A stave of unique design at that. Adorned its head was two horn like structures and it oozed a cold aura. Black and red robes adorned his tall but gaunt form, and a thick white beard and head of hair draped over his shoulders and down the front of his chest. A amulet or sometype of amulet hung from around his neck, covered partly by his long facial hair. Pale eyes gazed about the room, briefly overlooking the more fresh faces among the Elite, while the Elder knew very little of each one of them, There was something about his expression that suggested he was inspecting a menu.

Ripe pickings for what face to wear next.

Finally his staff sounded one last time and the pale eyes snapped toward Lord Creuat and where Prowler was sure the rest of the elite addressed their perceived authority with respect, he would do no such thing here.

" Creuat." The elder spat. Somehow bringing heavy emphasis on the last letter of the name. A greeting that was void of life itself.

Tags: Meliant Krasskorr the Maw Casi Braste Imperius Indomitus

 

[Cesare Demici]

Tags: Lord Creuat , Prowler II , Casi Braste , Meliant , Krasskorr the Maw , Imperius Indomitus

Citadel of Secrets

Cesare quietly entered the room with a rather monotone look upon his face. Each step was measured, calm, yet landed with resounding purpose. The fall of the Galactic Alliance was meant to be his opportunity... his golden hour... his opportunity to get into the good graces of the Emperor. He was meant to be the hero of the Empire, the champion of Solipsis. He was destined to approach the throne, look the Sith'ari in the eyes...

and promptly run him through.

Cesare's parentage was no secret among the Elite, nor among those within the greater reaches of the Imperial ranks. His father had been one of Solipsis' most renowned enemies, all the way to his final breath. Cesare hadn't cared for the man's sermons, nor for his misguided crusade, but Pietro was still his father... his blood... his family. His murder was a crime against the very Demici name, and Cesare would not sleep until his vengeance was satiated in full.

But now, with the implosion of the Empire's enemy, the heir to the Demici name had now found himself stuck, locked into the weaving machinations of the Emperor and his ilk with no clear end in sight. But the man was nothing if not resourceful, and despite the frustrations welling up within him, he would keep a cool head, awaiting his next opportunity to seek out his justice.

He stopped abruptly, standing next to the others as his jaw clenched almost instinctively. He didn't care much for the others among the Elite. He hated most of them. The majority were little better than ravenous beasts. Some were sychophants, while others were merely self-serving backstabbers. In the end, however, they were little more than stepping stones on his path to vengeance. A vengeance he would have this day, the next, or in a hundred more after that. Even in the next lifetime, if need be.

For now, he had all the time in the world...

 

[St. Thomas Barran]

TAGS
Lord Creuat Meliant
Prowler II Cesare Demici Imperius Indomitus Casi Braste Krasskorr the Maw

CHAFF FROM THE WHEAT
1

'Full house tonight, I like it.... Apologies for poor punctuality.'
​

Even before he entered the room, he could hear and feel the tension through the wall between them, but as soon as the guards stepped to one side, it was so visible that the one-eyed Woad felt he could cut it with a knife. However, as aggravated as the mood was collectively, the Khan would not abide a single scowl as he continued,'But here's the thing, my esteemed superiors an' peers.... I'm just going to say it, you don't want me here, my presence here is not a good thing. Not in this particular moment, not while I can finally turn this ground-war around now - seriously, the power of escalation is obtainable, waiting in the Unknown Regions.', only trailing off to lay Chantress (pommel-up, just in case) against the nearest chair.

Drawing back his hood, the Khan could be heard breathing heavily, even before the Golden Skull was removed from his face, but when the mask was placed within the folds of his cloak, the sharp, slow inhalations through the nostrils would be sharp enough that even the deaf would feel the sudden shift in the air. Yet still, for all the glaring, jaw-clenched aggravation he was feeling, Barran's arms still folded inoffensively as he let his words marinate a little longer, darting gaze between peers before he eventually concluded,'Whatever the reason was for convening, I hope its important.', still thinking of all the resources that were finally available to the Khanate's war-effort.

 

[Lord Creuat]

E X E C U T O R
ECLIPSE
Meliant | St. Thomas Barran | Prowler II | Cesare Demici | Krasskorr the Maw​

They all arrived, not one was absent from his call. After Barran stepped into the room the door behind them locked with no way to enter or exit. An ominous note for the Elite to know they were in grave danger.

“Welcome, my friends,” finally addressing his Elite as they all stood at attention. Each one their own unique character; there was never a rule of uniform within the group. “Truly, we are witnessing a golden age for the Empire. The Jedi and their hope are but a folly. The Alliance is fractured and in disarray, and the Core is ours for the taking with no one to contest our might.” His voice welcoming in a major tone, highlighting the recent successes of the Empire. So affable they might as well celebrate and be recognized for their merits.

“However.”
​

How one word alone could change the atmosphere in the room. The sense of fear began to compound and the dreadful cold was pressing down on their shoulders. “I am most displeased with your performance. On your watch you allowed the enemy to destroy the Death Star. The Emperor has given each of you the gifts of his power, yet you waste away such privilege,” walking past Casi Braste and Imperius Indomitus sith his back facing the whole Elite.

“You all have become…

a disappointment!”
​

And a powerful wave of the Force erupted from the Executor onto the rest of his Elite. Their lives where in peril and they would know no mercy from the Sith Lord.

They would overcome their weakness.

Or perish.
​

Spoiler

Dice will be used.

Roll 1d20

Values of 15-19 will be recognized. 20 will be a crit hit. Three rounds of post from each character.

Don’t low roll :]

 

[Krasskorr the Maw]

FOOD: Lord Creuat Casi Braste Imperius Indomitus

​

Krasskorr listened, his multiple eyes narrowed, as the Executor Lord Creuat detailed the collapse of the Galactic Alliance and the Empire's self-proclaimed victory in the Second Core War. The belittling tone of the Executor was irrelevant; what seized Krasskorr's attention was the sudden, oppressive shift in the atmosphere. As a wave of the Dark Side of the Force settled like a physical weight on his battle-scarred hide.

Something was coming.

His heavy, obsidian claw tightened around the hilt of his Lightclub. It did not take long to identify the threat, as the Executor's words sharpened into accusation, pointing fingers at the Dark Side Elite for the failure to safeguard the Death Star III and the Emperor from the Galactic Coalition. A wet snarl pulled at his mouths.

He would have dismissed that notion instantly; as the leader of this motley crew, Creuat deserved the burden of his own failure to coordinate them effectively. Before Krasskorr could voice the contempt, a deafening boom tore through the sealed chamber.

A vicious Force wave ripped across the floor, powerful enough to shred the durasteel surface. Yet Krasskorr's sheer size and bulk absorbed the impact; his vast weight and dense hide soaked up the energy. He planted himself firmly, his massive claws digging deep into the buckling floor for stability.

"Enough fooling around, fish brain." Krasskorr's bellow erupted from beneath both his maws, a massive, deep-throated roar that was instantly weaponized into a formidable Force Bellow directed squarely at Lord Creuat .

Post 1: 18 Roll

 

[Meliant]

Location: Deep Core - Eclipse - Nameless Citadel
Objective: Be Petty

Attn: Lord Creuat Imperius Indomitus Casi Braste Krasskorr the Maw Prowler II Cesare Demici St. Thomas Barran

Meliant folded his arms as Creuat began his speech, extolling the Empire's victory over the Alliance and the Jedi. No one to realistically contest them, sure, but no one to conduct the symphony either. He didn't buy it. He also didn't believe Lord Creuat - affable as he presented himself - had called them here to distribute some pats on the back.​

​

That was not the way of the Sith. Sure enough, the Executor's speech soon turned to disgust and reproach. Meliant felt the air shift. Dark power was welling up, preparing to be unleashed.​

​

"On your watch you allowed the enemy to destroy the Death Star."​

​

"Our watch," Meliant interjected, visor following Creuat as he marched through the circle and turned his back on them.​

​

No sense in feigning deference if they were all going to be attacked anyway… And they swiftly were: a wave of invisible force erupted from the Sith Lord, threatening to fling aside the whole of the Dark Side Elite.​

​

Meliant muttered a curse under his breath and jumped. The Force propelled him beyond normal limits, but not fast enough. It struck him in his ankles, and had the effect of causing him to spin several times in the air before landing - ignominiously - on his face. His hollow helmet clanked loudly on striking the ground.​

 

[Casi Braste]

Lord Creuat Imperius Indomitus Meliant Krasskorr the Maw St. Thomas Barran Prowler II Cesare Demici

(I'm cooked)
------------------------------------------

​

Casi huffed and folded her arms at Meliant's comment, rolling her eyes. She was the youngest and most recent to ascend to the rank of Elite, and as the others trickled in she reassured herself that it was a strength. Half of the attendees were crusty old men. In time they were recognize her strength, or else she would make them.

There was something palpable in the air between all of them... something that read as fear, or concern, a feeling unbecoming of a cadre of the galaxy's best dark warriors. She couldn't help but feel the Force around them tense up at the Lord-Executor's mention of their failure at Atrisia.

Her eyes yet lingered on Meliant, worried about his potential volatility towards her. When she saw him begin to move, prescient of the Lord-Executor's power, it was already too late for her. The wave of Force energy slamming into her like a truck, knocking the wind from her lungs and lifting her off the ground. Her back struck hard against the wall, with the jarring, dizzying pain of hitting her head. Dazed, slumped on the floor, she looked up through spinning vision at the others leaping into action.

She coughed, and blood speckled the floor in front of her. Weakly, she pushed herself up onto her knees, one hand finding the wall for support, the other instinctively reaching for her lightsaber. She didn't try to stand just yet, only seeking to get her bearings before someone tried to strike her down in her moment of confusion...

 

[Prowler II]

“Welcome, my friends,” finally addressing his Elite as they all stood at attention. Each one their own unique character; there was never a rule of uniform within the group. “Truly, we are witnessing a golden age for the Empire. The Jedi and their hope are but a folly. The Alliance is fractured and in disarray, and the Core is ours for the taking with no one to contest our might.” His voice welcoming in a major tone, highlighting the recent successes of the Empire. So affable they might as well celebrate and be recognized for their merits.

“However.”
​

How one word alone could change the atmosphere in the room. The sense of fear began to compound and the dreadful cold was pressing down on their shoulders. “I am most displeased with your performance. On your watch you allowed the enemy to destroy the Death Star. The Emperor has given each of you the gifts of his power, yet you waste away such privilege,” walking past ... his back facing the whole Elite.

“You all have become…

a disappointment!”
​

And a powerful wave of the Force erupted from the Executor onto the rest of his Elite. Their lives where in peril and they would know no mercy from the Sith Lord.

The elders white eyes seemed to lose focus as Creuat began. Lost at the first utterance of a so called greeting. Welcome, my friends. Of all the Darkside Elite there were few that remained that knew of the Narutolan as the original team did. As Prowler did. The aliens ascent to power was beset by competition and fueled by one singular purpose.

To keep what was gained by his newly discovered persona. Lord Creuat. For the sith had not always been what he presented here and now. Even now Prowler could invoke the memories of a past life, his past life, when the Narutolan was eager to prove his worth like the rest of the litter. That was ever constant and in the Elders perception, that aspect had never changed. In many ways Creuat was still very much the same. The Emperor displays much prudence positioning you, of all the Elite, as Executor. He thought to himself and raised a brow.

It was all ironic.

The shift in the atmosphere was subtle. Where there was once celebration, now it transitioned to cold detachment. It smothered over them all and no doubt fear and doubt intermingled in the midst. The implementation of such details were rather cunning. It showed gumption. It was a que for the Arkanian to remain on guard and while he was, the magnitude of the force shockwave that was unleashed was enough to snap Prowlers attention back to the present. It surprised him. The volatile energy rolled over the elders form like a tempest. In response Prowler bent his knees and positioned his stave and cloak in a manner that suggested defense and it was. A faint shimmer of translucent energy rippled over him, an innate protection, one cast from his cloak of hate. Without it the old man may of ended up like Casi Braste , another fellow Elite that had seemingly forfeited their will to act. The womans body limp from the shockwave and thus rag dolled across the chamber. Whereas others evaded or absorbed the attack through other means.

Even so Prowlers physical attire was unsettled from the sudden release of power. As was his appearance. The locks of his hair, once behind flowing down his back, were now set wild and beard mimicked the same. He stood in a hunch and slowly rose to his full height and a crazed look emerged from his expression. As Krasskorr the Maw countered attacked, Prowler took the opportunity to join in at the same time but strike from a different front entirely.

His eyes narrowed and jaw grew stern. Outwardly he was deceptively unaffected and still, but under the surface a torrent of raw psychic power sought to sink its teeth into Lord Creuat 's psyche and sought to interrupt any potential focus or concentration he hoped to muster for his next attack or defense. Mind Shard.

It was the same technique that he implemented against the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, that was...

Tags: St. Thomas Barran Meliant Imperius Indomitus Cesare Demici

 

[St. Thomas Barran]

TAGS
Lord Creuat Meliant
Prowler II Cesare Demici Imperius Indomitus Casi Braste Krasskorr the Maw

CHAFF FROM THE WHEAT
2

'WHOSE FETHIN' WATCH-'
[WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH]
​

For all the battlefronts the one-eyed Woad had graced in both lifetimes, many had been considered failures until the smoke cleared, revealing a necessary bloodbath for the sake of wider-reaching victories; Creuat, however, was in no mood for debate that night, and as soon as Barran started feeling that ringing in his ears, it was clear that the Elite's very-own High Table were there to inflinct pain with murderous intent. Torment for a failure of which the Khan understood to be false, but torment all the same, and with Barran caught and unprepared by the time Creuat's Force Wave hit, there was only one way to tumble.

[THUD]
[SPLINTER]​

'GYAAAH!!!'

​

Sent careening into the same seat that previously served as leaning-post for his sword, the chair would break apart as it cracked between the back wall and the back of the Khan, and he could feel every last snapping split across the surface of his lower-scapula. But for all the sharp pains to the front and back, the prone-falling Saint would rise once more to his feet, though not without groaning and complaints along the lines of,'This isn't punitive, not at all!', though he paused as soon as he caught sight of the weapons he had brought with him. Chuckling then, the Khan merely muttered,'Oh, no-no-no.... Now thats just naughty.', chuckling once more as his posture straightened upright.

'Nah, this seems more like appeasement.... I can smell it from a mile off!'

​

Casting his cloak to one side, St. Thomas revealed the scarred, prison-marked torso as a mark of readiness for violence, cracking knuckles and neck-bones with his one-remaining eye fixed firmly on the gaze of his Nautolan superior, and only then did Barran turn to the other recipients of the Lord Executor's attack. Some had taken it better than others, including the Ophidian creature, but the mere fact the Khan himself was middle-of-the-road spoke volumes of the pain he was yet to incur that day, grimace-worthy circumstances of the worst order. Yet for all the agonies he was expecting, the Khan knew it would need to be endured for the sake of the Mawsworn Tribes, the growing horde who relied on the Khan's survival for the sake of their own, an ever-present reminder that St. Thomas was no longer fighting just for himself in these encounters.

Not with his very life's mission entrusted by Nomads who numbered in their millions by then.

'Peers, you had better be ready this time!'

 

[Cesare Demici]

Tags: Lord Creuat , Prowler II , Casi Braste , Meliant , Krasskorr the Maw , Imperius Indomitus

Citadel of Secrets

Tension was palpable as the Executor began his speech, each word sending a chilling air through the room. Cesare's eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed upon the leader of the Elite. The words of victory would have been welcoming from another, but with Creuat, there was almost certainly going to be a 'but'...

Sure enough, there was...

The blame had been pushed upon Cesare and his fellow Elite, and the Executor, in true darksider fashion, made it a point to separate himself from the rest of them. What a fool, Cesare would think to himself. Creuat thought so highly of himself, despite being yet another one of the Emperor's many tools. He was a pawn, just as they all were. Nothing more than cogs in the Imperial machine.

Perhaps it was time someone reminded him of that fact...​

“You all have become…"

He didn't even register the ending of the sentence, for the leader of the Elite had unleashed his fury upon them, a sharp wave of force cutting through the air as he showed them just how much he wished to lord over them. Cesare's body moved, but not fast enough, his legs kicking out from under him as the force send him through the air. His body landed on the floor, rolling several feet back before he managed to regain control of himself. Using the momentum of his own body, Cesare slide up, sliding backwards on one knee as his hand reached for the hilt of his saber, igniting its crimson glow with a vicious snap-hiss.

"Our failures are your failures, Executor. Unless you are implying you no longer wish to lead us."

He stood, his glowing blade at his side.

"A leader doesn't pass along the blame that is his. Such is the action of a coward."

 

[Imperius Indomitus]

LORD INDOMITUS
Through Fire and Blood.
Through Justice and Strength.
On the Anvil of War, We forge our Destiny.

Lord Creuat | Prowler II | Cesare Demici | Meliant | Krasskorr the Maw | Casi Braste | St. Thomas Barran

INFERO​

Eclipse | Citadel | Head Chambers

. . . and he proved another mongrel.

Imperius did not see any flattery in the words of the Nautolan or recognised any praise. Nor did He acknowledge any shame for the broad failure of the Empire over Atrisia. Another superweapon, another disaster. It was almost tedious to see the errors of the past ignored, repeated and then witnessing anger upon the shock of similar results.

The outburst, in equal measure childish and uncontrolled, was still catching Imperius off-guard, actually surprised that the figure could suddenly unleash such powerful forces. He was sliding backwards across the floor, metal screeching as His sabatons could not grip until He moved into the wall behind Him.

The Zakuulan merely looked up from the assault, making a step forward from the wall and silently looking at the scene unfolding.

This was worse than the decadence of the Sith.

 

[Lord Creuat]

E X E C U T O R
ECLIPSE
Meliant | Prowler II | Krasskorr the Maw | Cesare Demici | Casi Braste | St. Thomas Barran | Imperius Indomitus​

A sinister smirk full of victory and ego formed when his entire Elite were thrown by the power of the Force Wave emitted from his person. A callous cackle to see his strength overwhelm them. All except for two. An old compatriot of his, and the two headed brute. Powerful air waves rushed at at the Nautolan, the bellow pushing him into the air though landing with some grace on his feet.

What was more consequential, however, was Prowler still on his feet and prying at his psyche. A bigger threat than the entire Elite combined. Old as Creaut was as they served the Emperor since the days of the Dark Empire. He needed his foundation to be challenged, to be uprooted. The Sith’s power reached out to the weakest: Braste. Like a rag doll he would toss the youngest Elite at the elder in hopes collapsing the old man before regrouping.

Then his lightsaber breathed with a hiss…

"A leader doesn't pass along the blame that is his. Such is the action of a coward."

…and like a blur came down to challenge Demici for speaking out of turn. They were not his equal, they were all beneath him and his to control and torment. What did this pawn know compared to the Executor? Nothing, and his ignorance would cost him dearly.

 

[Casi Braste]

Lord Creuat Imperius Indomitus Meliant Krasskorr the Maw St. Thomas Barran Prowler II Cesare Demici
​

Casi raised her head from the floor, too stunned to even wipe the blood trickling from her mouth. For a moment, it seemed she was down and out. Through disoriented vision she watched as the Executor moved on the fallen Ashlan like a blue-blur. Jusy beyond them, she could see the visage of Prowler, brewing something devious. She had nothing against the old wizard, but at the sight of him, something took her over. Hate. Not her own, but someone elses... she couldn't understand it, not could she fight it.

"RRAAAHHH! "Pouncing to her feet like a creature, Casi yelled in anger, drawing both her lightsabers in a fluid motion that exerted her entire body, almost inhumanly. Two blades ignited, one red, one blue. Casi's eyes, bloodshot and open wide, rolled back into her head as Crueat played her puppeteer, sicced like one of the rabid hound's of the Emperor that they were expected to be.

Though Braste was trained to be a skilled duelist by the Jedi, those of the Elite who had sparred with her knew she still held some of that Jedi restraint. Her attack was unlike anything they could have expected from her, animated by the power of the Force in a way she could never have mustered, leaping forward into a corkscrew spin with her sabers diving towards the old man...

 

[Krasskorr the Maw]

FOOD: Lord Creuat Casi Braste Imperius Indomitus

​

Krasskorr's lips twisted into a snarl as Lord Creuat effortlessly utilized the Force Bellow to create distance between them and shift attention to the more urgent issue of Cesare Demici 's loose tongue and audacity to speak out of line. He was determined not to let this chance slip away to attack the Nautolan from behind, channeling a surge of the dark side energy flowing through him.

Krasskorr prepared to strike by raising his Lightclub high above his head, trying to replicate the powerful overhead blow from his battle with Avida on the Death Star III.

Propelling himself off the ground to try to slice him in half, yet the abrupt motion and the weight of his body caused the muscles to seize under the impossible strain as the lightclub swung in a frenzied, unmanageable arc, crashing harmlessly into the ceiling and raining sparks onto the chamber floor.

This resulted in him being pitched forward with a resounding crash on the floor.

His heavy, armored frame impacted the floor, sending a shudder across the chamber. He slid to a stop near a pile of shattered floor panels, falling flat on his face in a posture of utter, humiliating failure.

Post 1: 18 Roll
Post 2: 5 Roll

 

[Prowler II]

"RRAAAHHH! "Pouncing to her feet like a creature, Casi yelled in anger, drawing both her lightsabers in a fluid motion that exerted her entire body, almost inhumanly. Two blades ignited, one red, one blue. Casi's eyes, bloodshot and open wide, rolled back into her head as Crueat played her puppeteer, sicced like one of the rabid hound's of the Emperor that they were expected to be.

Though Braste was trained to be a skilled duelist by the Jedi, those of the Elite who had sparred with her knew she still held some of that Jedi restraint. Her attack was unlike anything they could have expected from her, animated by the power of the Force in a way she could never have mustered, leaping forward into a corkscrew spin with her sabers diving towards the old man...

Creuat's mind was a mental fortress, and while Prowler's initial piercing strike hit its mark, it was only a taste of the type of havoc he could wreak inside the alien's mind. Creuat, a veteran of the Darkside Elite alongside Prowler himself, if the alien had stayed just a member of the Darkside Elite and had not, assumedly, fallen under the tutelage of the their Master and Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Solipsis , then perhaps Creuat's mind would have been easier to dominate and this entire ordeal would of came to an end swiftly. But this was not the case. And though Prowler was unsure whether or not Sith teachings had planted themselves firm within Creuat's mind, one thing was for sure. It would take much more effort within the Elder's psychic attack than just a mere burst of concentration. No, he would have to muster much more concentration.

And that sort of power he did not have under initially, but it could be invoked. And so he did! For as Prowler engaged further attempting to cripple the narutolans mind, the power had built and came to a crescendo that ultimately backlashed upon Prowler's nervous system and psyche when sudden danger encroached. It started as a vision, a vision of a young woman, just a girl to the Elder. It was Casi Braste . And though her details were blurred, the message of the vision, of this coming prophecy, could not be ignored. It barked at the edges of Prowler's psyche and had become a splinter in his mind's eye, any type of mental or psychic attack he was surmounting against his former ally . Of all the Dark Side elite, Casi was the youngest and most likely the most inexperienced. She was weak. And it was for this reason she was underestimated, even by the Arkanian elder. Within the minds eye, she screamed, something that was of blood and wrath, hurling through the air like a slug, homing in on its target in a whirling flash of red and blue energy. From a different perspective, an outside perspective, it was quite beautiful to behold, if not for its immediacy.

And then, like that, the vision ended and a dark prophecy unfolded. Instinct took over! Grabbing both his staff and igniting his lightsaber, the crimson orange blade spring to life with a snap hiss! Prowler pivoted and turned right in the nic of time to defend against an onslaught of strikes that rained down upon him with a force that staggered him back. And yet, as he parried and blocked, there was little he could do against such sudden rage. A relentless strike leveled against him and broke his guard. His lightsaber effectively battered away and sent sliding on the cold metal floor. Left only with his stave, Prowler uttered a phrase and mustered his hatred in attempt to gain distance but the invocation was cut literally short!

" Sutta Chwitus-" The language of the sith echoing in the chambers and then halted. A breathy groan escaped the elders maw and a flash of white fire seemed to erupt over and in front of his wild visage. His stave fell to the floor with a bone chilling rattle. A arm still clutching the weapon and leaking a substance akin to black smoke. It ate away progressively at the limb. The elder's being watched in disbelief! Weary, Prowler fell to the floor and his body became two! Bisected through the torso by a diagonal strike! Again smoke wisped and hissed from the body parts and darkside energy convulsed across the strange corpse.

Within the minute, the dismembered remains of Prowler were consumed by mysterious volatile energies. Torso, legs and arm reduced to something akin to ash and wafted in the chamber. Then there was nothing at all. As if Prowler had not even been there at all. Save for the equipment he carried that lay on the floor. His scepter, which irradiated darkside power, a talisman carved into a terrifying face, a cloak of hatred and a lightsaber that was somewhere in the chamber.

All of which could be used and wielded if one so choose. And thus far Casi Braste would be the closest to them all...

Tags: Krasskorr the Maw Imperius Indomitus Cesare Demici Meliant Lord Creuat St. Thomas Barran

Rolls:
R1=16
R2=12

​

Moments after...

" AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!"​

Somewhere aboard the Sepulchre a otherworldly scream rattled the adjacent halls. A shriek of pure anger and astonishment! Within the Sith meditation chambers, a man, no, an Elder, sat cross-legged, hair wild, and pale eyes wide. His breaths came ragged and sweat, beads of it poured down his forehead, shoulders, and torso. He was breathing heavily, and beside him, a cage that held what was once a prisoner was now a mere corpse cut into three pieces, an after-effect and consequence of a ritual link severed and ended by force. And though Prowler himself was not harmed physically, the entire ritual required an amount of focus that would be tedious, all of which would have to be mustered up again! Not to mention that of all the Darkside elite, Prowler had never been defeated before!

And to be defeated, even if a mere Force Phantom, was an extension of himself! And by the weakest of the Darkside elite was an utter humiliation!!! A rage that Prowler had not known before overcame him as he ordered another prisoner another prisoner be sent to the meditation chamber immediately! He would have to begin again, conjure another phantom down, to not only seek retribution against the girl that had humiliated him, but also Creuat as well! To reclaim the items that were his, his staff, his talisman, his lightsaber, and his cloak, all which were lost on his Force Phantoms death!