Annihilation Clash of Destiny

[The Lord of Hunger]

LOCATION: Aboard The Gluttoneria
OBJECTIVE: Interrupt the Ritual
IMPORTANT LINKS: Sword #1 | Sword #2 | Armor | Jewel | Ring | Necklace | Gauntlet | DIII Gluttoneria | The guards | KRONOS
TAG: Darth Caedes | Darth Ayra | Revna Marr | Deonis Laythar | Darth Vinaze | Da'Razel | Dark Forces | Onrai | Darth Solipsis | Darth Carnifex | Gerwald Lechner | Srina Talon | Vireth | @open

The manifestation of Onrai did not perturb the Lord of Hunger all too much, this entity had shown to be worth his attention and his observation, be it this form or that of her... avatars, yet perhaps it was the final reveal of the Sith cloaked in shadows and mystery which drew most of his attention, while KRONOS continued to work its way through the ship's many decentralized files and backdoor systems in order to get itself a detailed lay out of the superweapon.
​

"Student."

His eyes seemed to light up ever so slightly, yet as he heard the clacking of boots on the pristine floors, they darted towards the origin of the sound, the image of a shimmering person cloaked in shadows and veiled in mystery finally began to unveil itself, as she unraveled the very mystery that she was in the eyes of the monstrous man. he hardly blinked, as yellow eyes were revealed, when mystery became reality.

A small bit of banter between the Demigod of the Anti force and the Hidden Lord drew the Lord of Hunger's attention, yet the words uttered there and then by Darth Ayra seemed to draw something from the man...or rather the monster the man had become. As the Deathstar itself was being permeated by the energy of the ritual, spreading across the battlestation like ichor from a wellspring, amplified and refined by spells and rituals, engorging on the carnage and devastation both inside and outside of the station., the Abomination within the force lifted The hand of Avaritia upwards and the pull began, the concentration of the force, bending to the will of the monster, fueling it, amplifying its presence, as this unnatural began to draw upon himself the very darkness within the station. The disruption of the ritual had already begun, and there was another who could break it if they utilized the same pull as He did.

"To deceive others, one must know when to reveal their hand, when to allow for they themselves to be belied and betrayed," A deep breath could be heard entering the Abomination's lungs, the armor heaving as his chest swelled and his arms and legs seemed to bulk up slightly. "I AM Hunger, I AM the devourer, I do not need to be at the very heart of the ritual to get what I want, I simply need to feel its energy, its unnatural draw of darkness...and now I will draw directly upon that which your pawns have so foolishly been preparing for their false sith'ari."

The air would feel heavy, practically toxic and devoid of oxygen, as the darkness swelled, the force concentrating as it entered into the monstrous man's own vessel. The ground began to warp, walls seemed to turn to wax, ceilings forgetting their function as they too started to wobble and wiggle. Everything began to twist and turn, yet did not lose its form or stability. At the center of it all, the Lord of Hunger stood, seemingly engorging himself upon the pull within the force.

"So...decide...you either bow or you bleed." It seemed these words were not meant to just the two within his vicinity, the Abomination's image, his crimson and golden eyes, the coldness of his armor and aura, it would be mentally transposed into all those close enough to the drain he had forced, those concentrating on this anomaly within the ritual... The Lord of Hunger had begun to devour...what was meant for Darth Solipsis ...

 

[Renn Vizsla]

Allies: Srina Talon | Aether Verd
Opposition: Maera Dren



The storm of fire only fed his advance. Where blaster bolts chewed the air and shrapnel clawed the floor, he moved like a juggernaut, shoulders low and rifle spitting red bursts into the defensive line. Around him, Death Watch pressed on through the killing field, their jetpacks flickering in short bursts to weave between detonations. The Imperials fought with precision, their discipline clear, but discipline was only half a war. The other half was will, and Renn carried it in every step.

Above, Squad Keld was locked into the rafters with Maera’s Besh. Sparks and shadows tangled as neither side yielded ground, a deadlock that thundered through the girders overhead. Renn knew they would not be breaking free to lend weight here. That suited him fine. Vhek shadowed him at the flank, blades ready, but Renn’s attention was already drawn to the figure cutting through the chaos ahead.

She moved differently from the others. Where her Death Troopers were a blade of unity, she was the hand that wielded it. Renn’s visor locked on the rhythm of her strikes, calculated, merciless, efficient. His warriors fell in the periphery of her path, but he didn’t waver. The Warmaster recognized the truth in her stance: this was no officer clinging to doctrine. This was a predator, sharpened by fire, standing to hold the line with her own hands.

Renn’s chest lifted with a slow breath, his voice carrying across the comms to the Death Watch pressing around him. “Flanks, hold your ground. She’s mine.” He strode through the haze, blasterfire painting his armor in strobing reds, the weight of his presence pulling Mandalorians into alignment around him.

The distance closed like a drawn bowstring. Smoke curled between them, the hangar’s alarms drowning beneath the sharper beat of their approach. Maera broke from her formation, intent and unflinching, and Renn welcomed it. His gauntleted hand tightened on his weapon before he let it fall to his side, fingers flexing as if eager for the clash.

For a heartbeat, the battle fell away. Stormtroopers screamed, blasterfire roared, jetpacks howled above, but none of it mattered. Vizsla and Maera moved into the same space, two predators circling, their soldiers pressing at the edges of a storm about to break.

Let Warriors Settle This.​

 

[Phaelissia]

Location: Chamber - Death Star III
Thread Objective: Clash of Destiny
Mission Objective: Stop the ritual.
SO: Lirka Ka Helix
GE: Da'Razel

​

Phaelissia came to a halt at the end of the passageway. Although the stormtrooper junk beast had a horrifying alacrity for its size, her own augmentations made her a blur by comparison. Not to mention, the electrical onslaught she had unleashed moments prior had further crippled it, reducing its advance to a shambling, clumsy gait.

It struggled now, a lumbering titan unable to close the distance.

Phaelissia did not grant it the opportunity. A slender arm, fingertips elegantly angled towards the monstrosity’s core. A sharp, deafening crack split the air, followed by a loud thunderclap as searing electricity exploded out from her fingers. The beast shuddered but held its ground, a chorus of pained, metallic shrieks sounding out as the durasteel plating encasing it glowed white-hot. Growling, the Aetharian fired another bolt, causing steam to rise from smoldering craters blown in its legs and torso. Pockets of the beast blistered and exploded outward in a shower of charred bone and shrapnel. She fired again, then again, blowing off a large chunk of its hastily-formed body as electricity crackled along its frame, surging along the mass of slagged E-11s.

A terrible, internal light—a brilliant, actinic white—bloomed from the cracks in the beast's chest, outlining the silhouettes of the fused stormtroopers within like a morbid X-ray. For a split second, the monster seemed to swell, its metallic shrieks cutting off into a high-pitched, building whine.

Then, it came apart.

The explosion manifested as a storm of shrapnel and lightning. The scattercannon vanished first, disintegrating into a forward-facing cone of white-hot durasteel shards, molten plastoid, and the superheated components of a dozen blaster rifles. It was immediately followed by a secondary blast as the beast's own form ruptured from the inside out.

Chunks of cherry-red durasteel plating were hurled in all directions, trailing smoke and sparks. The fused corpses within were pulverized, erupting in a cloud of blackened bone fragments and ash. A shockwave, visible as a ripple of distorted air, slammed outwards, carrying the smell of vaporized metal, ozone, and incinerated flesh.

The electrical energy, now unleashed from its containment, crackled through the debris field in a final, furious display, arcing between falling chunks of metal like a dying thunderstorm.

Where the junk beast had stood, there was only a scorched circle on the deck, raining metal and embers. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the ping of cooling shrapnel and the sizzle of dying sparks.

Phaelissia took a deep breath then and before turning and making her way deeper into the station. Before long, she found herself in a wide, expansive chamber, having since linked back up with Lirka Ka and Helix .

"A world in flames. A inferno of salvation. Blessed are they who burn, for their torment stokes the Empire eternal."

Phaelissia’s synthetic gaze swept over the four armored, shrouded cultists, their chant hanging in the air. Although she suspected that this was a tributary ritual to the primary ceremony transpiring deeper within, their efforts likely contributed to it.

She would purge them, an offering to the very fire that they so blindly worshipped, but could neither control nor understand.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Frostfire Azalea
  
  • Arms
    
    • FAE/M-02 Energized Forearm Vibroblade Mk. II - R
• Purifying Lash
• Freezing Fates II
• Cybernetics and Augmentations

 

[Vestra Tane]

Tags: Hasuras Na-Gerra Mercy Quinn Varanin Arris Windrun and more!
Opposition: Ashin Cardé Varanin
Equipment: Lightsaber, Blaster Carbine, Rebreather, Armorweave Coat, Hex Grip

The tram containing Hasuras Na-Gerra , Mercy , Quinn Varanin , and Arris Windrun ran into something that did not move. Other than what might have been a wink.

"Hail Solipsis."

The impact roused Vestra from her waking sleep. She felt the shock, the lurch forward, and leapt, Force-assisted, from the tram at the moment of the crash - right before the shock sent a few pounds of durasteel through her frontal lobe. That would've been an embarrassing death. When she inevitably kicked the bucket, the Sith wanted it to be while doing something spectacularly violent and extraordinarily ill-advised.

The Sith skidded across the durasteel flooring to a short halt. The Force helped with that, too, dispersing her inertia such that she managed to make a desperate leap to safety look trained, cool, and confident, three-point pose and all. Self indulgent? Maybe. But...

She gripped the hilt of her lightsaber in her metal hand, and twirled it anxiously. Taking a moving vehicle to the face without even flinching was on the lower end of the sorts of things Vestra expected from a former Empress.

She gave herself, maybe, fifty-fifty odds that she walked out of here without losing at least one limb. Why not be a little flamboyant?