W I N G S
K E Z E C
ILUM
"I've nothing to say for myself. Not anymore."
_
The weighted grasp of authority on his shoulder made the young miraluka tilt his head slightly, reaching back through the webbing flow around him to cast his vision towards the one who touched him. The gentle, humming pulse of The Force cast in painted, cool shades. Comforting. Promising. Protective. It was enough to bring a smile to his face and he dipped his head almost immediately out of respect, casting the shouldered strands of his onyx mane down over his chest. "Master Muwian," he greeted her, tilting his face back up proper as her name ceased its roll off his tongue.
"Padawan," he could hear a smile in her voice, "are you ready to go?"
An eager nod proceeded the quick steps that ushered him down the steps sprawling down the front of the temple and he paused in his hurry just long enough to vault over the door of the airspeeder and thrust himself into the passenger side seat. His Master could only chuckle as she followed behind, reaching out to rock his shoulder gently with another grip. "You know, the others made their students drive."
"The others also don't have a blind student." He turned his head out of courtesy, revealing the smirk eating away his expression.
"You're no more blind than you are clever, Kezec. Mind your manners when we get there, yes? I would hate for you to get barred out." Muwian laughed softly, barely keeping tone above the notes of the droning engines charging to propel them from the ground, and it was as the wind whistled through his ears and combed back his hair that he understood they were in flight. He fell silent then, for a time at least, simply appreciating the weightless feeling of flight. It wasn't until his Master spoke once more that he animated, sitting up straight and curling his fingers against the tops of his thighs: "Are you ready?"
Kezec pondered her question for a moment, rolling his lip back and forth between his teeth. She knew the answer already, didn't she? She wouldn't be taking him there unless he was ready; well, unless she thought so. He was older than the other Padawans as it was, his training was somewhat delayed. Perhaps it was due to all the trouble he and Muwian seemed to get into. Or maybe her way of teaching just focused on more important things first, and she moved out of traditional order. Either way, the miraluka hummed a note of thought, nodding ever-so-slowly as he did. "Yes, I am."
"Do you know what it is that will await you there?"
Her question made him draw his robes and cloak around himself more tightly and return his expressionless face forward. A crease folded itself between the brows masked by his crimson and golden blindfold and he sipped the cold air, drawing a curt breath between narrowly parted lips. "I'm... unsure." He offered an honest answer, reaching up in the midst of a nervous tick to brush the right half of his hair behind his ear and tuck it away. "I have given it much thought... but..."
"But what?" she pressed him gently, looking away from her flying briefly. He felt her eyes burning his ears.
"Nothing," he dismissed this before the thoughts could get too far ahead of him and ruin his mental preparation. If he was going to conquer this as countless others had before him, as countless of his brothers and sisters had, he was going to need their steadiness. Their wisdom. Their guidance. Kezec considered these things as he settled back in his seat and once more curled his hands against the tops of his thighs. A deep breath. An exhale. The swelling, comforting warmth of The Force bloomed from his core, sprouting and unraveling petals as new, rejuvenating courage.
Sensing this, Muwian retracted her questioning and focused her attention back on the task ahead of them, and the journey to the cavernous mountains looming far off in the distance. Gloom hung over them, shading the frosted hollow as icy, crystalline teeth were bared to the cloudy, grey sky. She was thankful then, it was one of many times in fact, she was thankful her student was blind. He was clever and quick on his feet, but he did not possess the courage some of those before him did. He was too selfish, sometimes, especially for one of his people. There was no sense of togetherness to him, and she found it perplexing, and deeply disturbing even more so. What possibly could have fractured him away from the beliefs of his kin? She wasn't sure. The Sages weren't sure.
His gifts were average enough, nothing too exceptional had been noted by the Sages either. He possessed no innate abilities that were of import. His natural talents with The Force were minimal- barely able enough to move small objects with telekinesis. But it had been with resolve and dedication to the lessons she taught him that he had expanded his capabilities and outgrown the helplessness she once saw smothering him. He was plagued by nightmares she could never glean from him, nor could she offer him comfort when they were at their worst. In many ways, perhaps despite her best efforts, she felt such a deep, almost maternal tie to the young miraluka.
Kezec was this little lost puppy found wandering down the street without a single claim to its name or person to claim it. He had been lost when she had found him and taken him under her wing, and while he fought it at first, he seemed content and genuinely accepting of the rules and conditions imposed on him. There seemed to be the innate disdain for unsettling the balance within him that all of his people possessed, and while he was generally rebellious, she was thankful that sliver of civility he often hid was enough to keep him in the proper line. That would help him tremendously in the trials to come- when it was he had to walk the path and find his balance and peace, lest the Dark side destroys him.
Yet, Muwian had never sensed anything corrupted in him when she looked to him. Never had she awoken in the throes of night sweats, gasping in the wakes of horrible nightmares Masters sometimes were granted. She was no prophet, but the isolated time a student had turned to the Dark side, she had foreseen it, and thankfully before he could harm her, or the others. She saw nothing of the sort when she looked to the miralukan padawan, rather, she saw the opposite. She wondered, sometimes, how suitable of a Knight Kezec was going to be. He was too caring and soft at heart to do the things it was Knights sometimes had to do. The same things that... the Jedi had done to his people. That rather sudden realization made the Master scowl and she ruminated over it, wrestling with the morality in silence for the rest of the ride.
Beside her, still tucked in his seat, he was meditating. That, itself, was enough to bring her comfort in a time when her thoughts fought amongst themselves and she struggled with that pinch of doubt sprinkled between the verses of her oath. She had been a loyal Jedi for as long as she could remember. It's what shaped her. Built her. Gave her every opportunity she had ever grasped in life, and absolutely, was she going to share it with the young man she had come to foster. Not wishing to disturb him as he prepared himself for the inevitable challenge he was to face, she landed the craft on the flattened stone placed ages ago for this purpose and drew her hands from the steering, resting them on her lap. She would wait for him to finish before she sent him on his own and waited here in anxious silence.
"We're here, aren't we?" his voice surprised her.
"Yes, from here out, you must go alone," she said, reaching over to tug his hood up onto his head, shielding his ears from the icy teeth of the wind. "Whenever you're ready, Kezec. I will be right here, waiting for your return."
The miraluka expelled a weighty breath, feeling the feathers of his excitement now striking the pit of his stomach as lead. It was colder here than he anticipated, too. Maybe that was the anxiety. Doubt had a way of scraping away warmth and wearing down the skin of those afflicted by it. He could do this, he need only hold out until the end of the night, he had been told. 'Face your fears and overcome them, only then, are you ready.' He felt as though, in many ways, he was born ready. His people had been pulled from one side of The Force to the other and nearly torn apart for it. But his feet were planted firmly where he stood. "I shall return soon, Master." He opened the door and slid from his seat, mindful of the ice he felt beneath the toes of his boots. The padawan turned his head from the beaming, dancing pulse of light echoing from the cavern in the distance, to the surging, steady flame of it still sitting in the speeder. "Don't worry yourself too much for me, will you?" Kezec couldn't help but tease her, as much as she teased him, and he reached up to grasp either side of his hood amidst his turn, holding the fabric in place against the fighting winds.
It was all she could do to gulp down the lump in her throat and nod, keeping her gaze on him for as long as the encroaching snowstorm would allow. Her venture into the same cavern all those years ago felt so distant, but she would never forget the pain she felt in its depths as The Force tested her. The wicked memories she was forced to relive over and over and over until she broke no more in their faces and instead fought them back, even if it made the scars splitting up her back ache in phantom pain. Kezec was strong, she knew this, but he was... vulnerable, all the same. Just as she had been. "You've taught him well, Mu," she murmured to herself, watching the wispy tendrils of frost ride the wind of her breath, "he'll be just fine."
❆♙❆
He wasn't entirely sure what he should have expected when he crossed through the mouth of the cave and was presented with a tunnel he found full of vibrancy, despite the lack of coherent light lying within its depths. It was... warm here, strangely, but there was no danger that piqued the hair on the back of his neck or made him feel stalked. No, the padawan felt comfortable. He felt safe, like he'd merely stumbled into a home he had lost ages ago. It was disarming enough for him to throw his head back, shedding the protective hood drawn up to guard his ears, and slowly, he drew a breath from his nose. The excited hum in his chest had kicked into a nervous flutter he felt in the back of his throat, forcing him to self-soothe by threading each hand into the opposite sleeve, curling fingers around his wrists. This wasn't at all what he had anticipated.
There were far less horrific creatures and nasty wraiths churning up The Force here, threatening to eat him alive. It raised a question in his mind about the nature of this trial. Something physical, is what he had come prepared for, yet, there was nothing here beyond the expansive, winding tunnels and the soft thrum of The Force into the soles of his boots. Perhaps that was the trial. Overcome the nothing. Or, perhaps maybe he was overthinking it, as he was wont to do. Kezec kept himself from frustration as he ventured deeper, extending an anxious hand to his side to gently trail his fingertips along the stony, crystalline carapace of the wall countless padawans had passed by before him. Somewhere, distantly, he heard their voices.
'Master, Master! Look!'
'It wasn't even that bad. Hah! You had me scared.'
'Yes, I was terrified.'
Each one widened the smile his presence here etched across his face. So they had felt the same way that he was in this moment, had they? It was reassuring, to say the least. The realization that he had neglected to mention to Master Muwian that the voices of those gone on before him had grown louder and more common in his daily life. The ability to sense such things was not entirely uncommon, but it was one that required special honing, so he had been told, to be used for the betterment of the Jedi and their kind. 'It's easy,' his Master had cautioned, 'to listen to the lies of the dead and fall into the Darkness.'
The miraluka huffed aloud, allowing his cheeks to puff out briefly in his slow-pan around the cavern. Four paths in total branched out from the chamber he currently stood in, each one almost perfectly identical. He considered the logic of the setup. Of course, it was entirely possible the pathways were physically distinguishable from one another but held no differences in conductive composition. A curious hum departed as he stepped off, stretching up onto his toes to extend a hand over his head, allowing him to brush his fingertips along the roof of the cavern. He could leave himself a trail, couldn't he? Just in case he needed to backtrack? That would be the logical option. Just as he carefully began to unwind the scarf from around his throat, he felt a thread pulled from within the bottom of his stomach.
Enough, that was, to make him freeze. That feeling- it was as though someone had stitched a line through his navel and anchored it to his spine, threading back around between the vertebra and back out the same way it had come. It was faint but strong enough to propel him forward almost against his will. The Force was calling him. Without a second thought or moment of hesitation, Kezec rushed down the path that was the second from his right, filling the quiet cavern with the echoing thump of his sliding boot steps. This tunnel spat him out into another chamber, one just as similar in its painted, illuminated greys as the previous. Only through The Force, could he see each of the tunnels webbing out from where he stood. Rather than think so hard, he furrowed his brow, creasing his blindfold, and focused intently on only what it was he felt. He reached for that strange, stringy tug at his gut once again, and the second he felt it ushering him in one direction over the others, that was the direction he set his feet.
The Force was calling him.
It was guiding him.
And it was the key to his success. It always had been.
The guiding hand drew him on and he kept pushing, no longer requiring a moment to pause and hone back in on the path he was so easily being offered. This was everything he had been instructed to expect. Everything he had told would occur. 'Listen to The Force', 'Reach for The Force', 'Let The Force guide you'. Muwian had been right, of course. As hard-headed as Kezec was, even he could admit that she had an incredible penchant for being right. She was far wiser than he was, but it went beyond that. There was something.... else there. She wasn't one of his people, but he had never felt as though she was an outsider either. She felt like family. Like he could tell her anything and she could understand, and even if she didn't, she would try for his sake. The mother he never had, in many ways. He wasn't supposed to form attachments, but, it was a little late for that. He couldn't admit it to himself then, nor would he ever, but she was family.
Focusing back on the task at hand, Kezec slid on his feet into a much, much darker room. It was enough to smother out the twinkling streams of energy converging upon it, each ribbon having impossibly vanished mid-tangle, leaving him buried in a shroud of indistinguishable black. The sight of nothing. This was it, wasn't it? Hands flexed anxiously by his sides as he tilted his head to his left, listening intently for any sign of motion or shift in his surroundings- any indication at all that something beyond him and those who had come before was at play. But there were no sounds in the cavern, not beyond the echo of his heart in his ears, and the slight quiver to his breaths as he drew each.
'Kezec-' a voice right against his left ear made him jump out of his skin, swatting and defensively swinging in that direction with the sudden sound in a world that had seemingly grown void of any at all. His heart drummed harder now and he gasped. Such a sudden, unsteady motion had thrown his balance on the icy floor of the cavern, sending him sliding and losing his footing. Unceremoniously, the padawan crashed to the floor in a heap, skidding across the ice momentarily. Yet he scrambled to his knees, bracing himself on both and his hands to keep steady. He didn't bother to lift his head to speak.
"Who's there?" He demanded of the featureless, icy dark.
No response came, not in any tangible way, at least. Seconds dragged into a minute. That minute bled into more. Yet, his adrenaline kept pumping through his boiling blood, spurring on the rise of moisture through his skin. Was there someone else in here? Why had they gone silent all of a sudden? Why couldn't he see them? A million questions rushed through his head and none came with answers, so, he struggled to find balance and stand upright once more- only to fall right back to his knees with a hushed whimper. What was that pulling at his robes? Dragging him back? Raking at his hair? It was enough to make him panic and he swatted fruitlessly, slapping and slashing at the air with his hands.
'You can hear them, can't you? See them?' the voice asked him, speaking up now with enough volume to force hands over his ears. The crystalline floor beneath his bruised knees trembled slightly with the bass of such rolling thunder. Yet, he did not recognize the one speaking. It was not a voice he could ever recall hearing before.
"W-who are you?" the padawan asked trepidatiously, fighting the urge to try to rise to his boots once more.
'No one you have been a stranger to your entire life,' it answered cryptically, 'a friend you have always been meant to meet.'
Parts of him were growing increasingly suspicious as the voice continued its thundering bellow, but this was a place of the Light, was it not? The Sith... the Dark side... none of that could touch this place, right? He was safe from that influence here? This doubt is what Muwian had warned him of, wasn't it? That The Force would test him to ensure he was worthy to bear its gifts. This was all just that, he reassured himself with a nod only offered towards his hands. "So what then, my mysterious friend, do you want?" The young miraluka asked at last.
'To show you, what is awaiting you.' the voice answered earnestly, with a tone almost too devilishly pleasured for Kezec to keep himself from shuddering, 'Do you want to see, young padawan, what your future holds? What the future of the galaxy holds?'
He had to stop himself from lunging at the opportunity. That was the bait. His greatest fear.
Uncertainty. Being nothing more than a powerless puppet in the face of Fate and forces beyond his comprehension. Life had been cruel, uncertain, and full of nothing but spite for him. He despised it, secretly- hiding that secretive little morsel deep within himself to keep the Sages from finding him out during his training. The training made him feel useless and ill-measured alongside the other students. He could not heal a scratch, much less a grievous wound. He could barely move objects with his telekinesis. Physically he was frail and often found himself coughing in the sand of the sparring pit, regardless of who they pitched him against. Would he ever reach the level he knew he could? Would he reach the destiny he was meant to? This... voice... this friend offered it to him there. A glimpse. A peek beyond the curtain to see what lay on the other side. Dare he look?
Kezec shook his head solemnly, tilting his face back in the direction the voice seemed to source from. By now, his fear had subsided and was replaced by curiosity fringed with a hint of anxiety. Just enough to keep him on edge and make him tremble with building tension. He wanted to run. Everything in him told him to run. But he remained.
'Don't lie to yourself, Kezec-' how did it know his name? 'You've always been a slave to your curiosity.'
The voice wasn't wrong by any stretch of the imagination. But this temptation it offered him seemed way too good to be true. There was no way this wasn't some sort of test or trap, and given where he was, he refused to risk it. "I only seek the knowledge I need to know." He fired back, scraping at the icy floor with his fingertips as he struggled once more to stand. Yet, it was to no avail, just as before. The invisible wires just wrenched him right back down, bashing his knees into the harsh floor once again. Only now, his bruises had grown so extreme he yelped softly at the pain.
'You don't wish to see what happens to your Master?'
Once more, beneath his blindfold, his brows pinched together and he shook his head with the dawn of realization beaming warmth over his freezing limbs. This was a test of his endurance. A trial of his will. It must be. He could stitch together no other comprehensible solution. "No, I don't. What will be, will be. What comes to pass, comes to pass. The Force moves how it wishes, guiding us to the Fate it has laid out in our stead."
'The Force isn't the only power in the galaxy, little padawan.' suddenly there was a chilling echo so harsh in its tone that Kezec quivered in response to feeling the baritone crackle as resonating lightning in his bones.
The miraluka gulped, not understanding quite what the voice was implying, or what it was suggesting. Of course, The Force wasn't the only power in the galaxy... there were the gods. The goddesses. He tilted his face back up in the direction of the voice, wetting his bluing lips to speak once more, but was stopped dead as pressure against the center of his forehead bloomed rapidly spreading razorice through him, crystallizing his blood and leaving him paralyzed. It was all he could do to gasp, consciousness sent reeling in a matter of a half-second at the abrupt contact made with this unknown.
'Open your mind, Kezec. You are not so blind.' the voice pulled him through the dark nothingness.
It felt like eons before something sparked in the black and he could discern shapes. Snaking tendrils of twisted energy, dancing, and wreathing round the shattered remnants of a world like a gluttonous serpent unable to control its hunger; swallowing itself up. A burning core, hot, and bright. He felt it searing his hands. His face. He was floating, weightless, yet he could breathe. He did not feel the chill of space. The dryness of the air. Once more, he could not perceive the one the voice belonged to, even here, if it was still with him at all. He could not say for certain, but he did not let that fact distract him from what the figure so obviously insisted he bears witness to. A planet destroyed, plain and simple. The life bled from it, spilling into the cosmos. Debris drifted by him, carrying bodies oozing life essence so freely into the open, indifferent air. The smell of smoke. The crackle of a distant fire. Yet, beyond this, it was silent.
Not a soul made a sound. His own heart had gone silent in his chest, remorsefully withholding its rhythm out of respect for the tragedy that had obviously taken place here- even if he was unsure of the true scale. Something tugged at the back of his mind, drawing his attention to turn, and he spun himself around- unimpeded by gravity- to expand his sight to the beyond. The entire sector... just as this planet lay in tormented ruination, so too, did the other. And its moon. And the other beyond that. As far as The Force reached from him, he felt naught but destruction in every direction. Space warped around him, compressing his body into an unnatural vacuum before spitting him back out onto the ground with a fading 'pop!'.
The ground was soft. The air was rife with the stench of sulfur and flames. Brimstone. Gases. Still alone, the padawan stooped over to comb his fingers over the ground, identifying the cushiony material his boots were sinking into. The pad of his thumb dragged it along his fingertips, feeling the chalky texture smear and break down. He curled his fingers towards his face, drawing a breath through his nose to sniff. The acrid, metallic spike of decimation roused his attention, causing him to abruptly jerk his head back. Ash. He was standing on what he could only guess was a mound of ash. This world was destroyed too. And beyond that, it was silent. What had happened here? His breath lodged in his throat, burning with the lingering smoke and gases wafting through the air.
'Do you see, young padawan?' the voice returned to him, echoing from the depths of space he once more found himself warped into with a resounding 'pop!'. All around him, corpses oozing what little life force remained from them floated by. Death in every direction. Silence for endless lightyears. And not a single flicker of Light or hope to be found. Had.... had the Dark side won? He didn't understand... 'There is more to the galaxy than just The Force, no... The Force is only one fraction of the power that exists...'
"Then what is all of this then? Where were the Jedi to stop this!?" Kezec cried out in response, gesturing to the rotten, faceless stormtroopers drifting by. "I don't understand why you show me these lies!"
'Lies? No, no child...' the voice suddenly was not so cold, but almost... sympathetic. Whoever... or whatever it belonged to seemed to take pity on his ignorance, 'death is no lie. It is the only truth, the ultimate truth, in your world.'
He had heard something similar before, yet at the moment, he could not grasp where. "I do not wish to see this anymore-"
'You are already haunted by it, Kezec. It will follow you wherever you go. You cannot escape it. You... should embrace it.' there came a rustle from behind him, though this time he did not jump with fright. Was that... the sounds of birds' wings?
"How... do I stop this? Why do you show this to me?" He stammered, struggling to fight back the urge to flee, even if there was nowhere for him to go.
'To beat anything... one must rival it, no?' a loud, bony crack clapped beside him. Yet still, he did not start.
"Yes..." he whispered.
'Do you understand, now?'
"Yes."
It wasn't until the touch of the stormtrooper sitting next to him knocked against his shoulder that Lord Halketh realized he had retreated deep within his thoughts. Too far, perhaps, if he truly wished to admit it. The trooper asked something of him, what it was exactly, he was unsure of. His mind was far, far gone elsewhere. It wandered and roamed as the transports rattled and rumbled forward, knocking a path through the thick foliage and undergrowth without so much as a care. Blaster bolts pinged and screeched off the hull of the craft, leaving steamy burn marks and discoloration, but not even coming close to punching a hole through the hull. It was going to take far more than that to sideline the 12th.
"My Lord, it's your nose. Can you hear me?" The same trooper bothered him once more, shaking him.
His nose? What? Instinctively, The Vulture's tongue flicked out across his lips, and indeed, he was met with that familiar, bitter taste. The taste of iron. The same he had smelled all those decades ago... "Thank you," the Warlord murmured quietly, fetching a handkerchief from his hip pouch and folding it over a hand to tuck against the base of his nose. Beside him, the familiar rattataki rolled her head over, looking at him with concern in her dark eyes. He wondered how many times he made that expression at Muwian. 'What, Cass?' his mind reached to hers, projecting the thought he prepared and broke off from the others for her to hear.
'You've gotten too quiet lately. Your nose is bleeding more. I know you're dealing with a resurgence, aren't you?' as ever, his apprentice was the first and fastest to call him out. She reached over, gently grasping his gauntleted wrist, and drew his hand back to expose the blooming red stain on the white cloth he held to staunch it. 'That's... a lot Master. Are you sure you don't want to sit this one out and let me lead the troops? You would be much safer up in the ship.'
'I'm fine, Cass.' he had to stop himself from scoffing and pulled his hand back, tucking the cloth right back to where she had drawn it from. 'You're right, but that doesn't mean I'm going to.' He had a habit of keeping himself in poor situations, even if only for the dramatic flair of it. The Vulture cast his gaze around, finally opening up his senses to unveil the stormtroopers bouncing and rocking alongside him, all lined up within the transport craft. The jungle was far, far too thick to land aircraft anywhere close to the fortified base they intended to infiltrate and capture, however, a rather risky ground drop wasn't nearly so volatile. That was if they could even make it that far.
The unmarked transports of the 12th Carlaci Corps churned a trodden path through the undergrowth, punching a hole big enough for other vehicles and foot soldiers to follow, and zipping right through the lines of fire without even a second thought. Perhaps it was the reputation for being a bit more than slightly unhinged that enable those grounders driving them to keep pushing regardless of how unforgiving the earth was, or maybe the engineers had just rigged the machines that tough. Either way, Carlaci was here and there wasn't a damn person on the planet who would have been unaware of the fact. The heavy craft had crashed down from airdrop, all troops and the Warlord himself tucked within already, and off they had gone without waiting for permission or coordination from their allies.
Not only that, but there was a grave, almost dire darkness that surged from the edges of the formation; the despicable, unsettling darkness created only when The Force had been twisted and perverted into something it was never intended to be. Something he had never been taught. Necromancy. At this point, anyone who knew anything about the Carlaci forces would know well enough why they surged forward so recklessly without any support or coordination: so long as their Warlord was alive, they could keep moving. There was nothing that could stand in their way, as long as Halketh stood with them.
Those who fell after serving their purpose as slug and blaster sponges would just be raised right back up and sent into the fray again as fearlessly as before. He knew his time would come. When someday, the New Imperials cared too much about their image and reputation, and the High Warlord of Carlac was needed for his sorcerous tendencies no more. That day would come. And when it did, he already knew what he was going to do. Until then, however, he and his undying soldiers would serve the Iron Sun until the last- rivaling the ultimate truth itself. And nothing would be left in their wake.
"Vulture, this is Avalanche, we got some hostiles clustering around the edges of the base here, over."
The sound crackling from the helmet he held on his lap made him sigh and he stood up, snapping a hand up to catch the strap up high to keep from toppling over, and slid his helmet to Cassiy's lap. Boots dragged out of his way as he slouched forward, navigating his way from the back to the front, where he managed to find the slot door and shove it aside, opening up the opportunity for those transport troopers to speak to him properly. His voice was muffled in partial by the cloth still firmly pressed beneath his nose, yet he spoke loudly enough to be heard regardless: "What's the situation there looking like? Have we allies already in the area, or what?"
He was sounding more like a Warlord every passing day.
'Why do your allies matter, Kezec?' her haunting voice echoed from the flank of his skull, forcing him to wince.
"We aren't entirely sure, sir, things have been a bit hectic since our landing. We know there's an armor formation pushing forward to break the line on the eastern side. That leaves-" the trooper looked to his partner, "-just us, as far as we know, on this side."
Halketh nodded some, trying to brush off the ghostly shrieks accosting his psyche. "I want you to push us all the way through. This craft second, the other first. We'll need the protection of the dead troopers if we want to take out the shield generators so our infil can get inside."
"Copy that sir, we'll pass the word along."
The Vulture shut the slot and shuffled back through the tight, hot space, stepping over feet and legs as he went, barely catching himself now and then to keep from being thrown across the laps of his soldiers. Once he had gotten himself situated back beside his apprentice he pushed a breath from his nose, raked his sweaty strands back off of his forehead, and reeled his focus in to bolster his courage. He needed to address his troopers. This was one of the most dangerous war efforts he had ever exposed them to. They were out of their element, in a theater of operations where enemies could be lurking anywhere, at any angle, at any time. He needed to speak to them. And so, he steadied himself after recovering from another harsh thump by the craft.
"This is going to be a rough one, ladies and gentlemen." He started simply enough, punctuating his sentence by wiping the last of the blood trickling from his nose away, "When's the last time any of us have busted through a shield generator in the middle of a jungle? As far as I can remember, this is a first." He chuckled, giving them something of a shrug. How he detested being in the spotlight. Even on the planet he governed he rarely addressed the people in such a way. "They didn't think we would hold Bastion."
The troopers packed into the vehicle all harumphed a triumphant note in tune with one another, causing the walls to tremble around them.
"They didn't think you would take Helgard."
Another note.
"And guess what everyone, they really don't think we're gonna take Gravlex, either."
Jeers and swears mixed with the rattle of helmets striking chestguards. Yeah, right. Like they would let anything stand in their way. Halketh felt a pride swell in his chest at the affirmation of his soldiers and he couldn't help but smile, reaching over to pluck his helmet back from Cassiy as he did so. He flashed that pearly dazzle in her direction and she scoffed, slapping his shoulder with the back of a hand.
"INCOMIN-"
The troopers in the front didn't even have time to warn those in the back properly. A deafening explosion rocked the front left of the vehicle, unraveling the tread and sending it lurching over on the rail, teetering. Smoke poured through the hole punched in the hull, smothering and obscuring the view within in an instant.
"Helmets on!" Cassiy cried over the confused scrambles and the mass ringing in everyone's ears.
For once, it was the Master who obeyed the apprentice. The Vulture donned his helmet, securing it tightly into place and ensuring the seal was aligned so he could filter the smoke.
"THE RAMP IS JAMMED!"
"WE'RE STALLING!"
Things had gone downhill really fast, hadn't they? What had they even be hit by? A rocket? An IED? It was hard to say, and really, could have been anything given the nature of the environment. Equally, they were blind to it all. EOD teams hadn't swept so far in just yet. Halketh's heart drowned out the distressed cries as he shook his head, orienting himself in the growing heat and haze. He pushed back the troopers who had taken charge of the ramp door and braced his gloved hands against it. "Behind me!" He rallied them with a shout, "Grab your buddies!" The Warlord turned his shoulder inward, pressing it against the ramp, and with the aid of The Force bolstering his physicality, the steel caved, buckling the mechanisms holding the ramp locked, and sending it dropping to drag behind them. The smoke hissed viciously as it fled from the tight space, bleeding up through the trees to expose their position.
"Is everyone okay?" Halketh shouted over the wounded, groaning steel beast they rode upon.
"Yes sir! No casualties! Minor injuries- nothing we can't fix!"
The Vulture sighed with relief. These troopers were a bit harder to sacrifice. Living volunteers were a precious commodity in a galaxy constantly on the verge of destroying itself. Or... maybe he just cared for them. Whatever the reason, Halketh stumbled and staggered back the path he had taken earlier, and pried the slot back open. "You alright up there!?"
"Yes sir! Little dizzy and banged up, but we'll survive. She's dead though, we're sitting ducks! They're gonna come streaming outta the trees any second now!"
Well that certainly solved the mystery of what happened, didn't it? "We're getting everyone out, now. We need to regroup and keep pushing on the objective. We aren't far now." The Vulture issued his orders to the affirmative before he turned, repeating himself for those in the back. And with the vehicle finally at a smoking, fiery stop, the strike team unloaded and bolted for cover, dashing through the undergrowth to tuck in amongst the roots of a particularly expansive tree. He steadied himself, expanding the domain of his senses outward with a sweep of his hands, checking their surroundings for any signs of life the others may or may not have been able to see.
There was little revelation in this act, at least, upon his initial sweep. That was until a trooper on the fringes of his little cluster suddenly dropped dead. More than enough, that was, for Halketh to snap around and raise his hands, casting another wave of kinetic energy through the brush, illuminating the environment it struck for his scrutiny.
"Vulture, this is Snowdrift-1, we're in position to start the march, over."
The call over his comms made him nod to himself. "Copy, Snowdrift-1, we've got a little sneak tip-toeing around here somewhere, over."
Eira might have been invisible in the traditional sense, but to a miraluka... her form was outlined by the flow of The Force he manipulated around the area to see in detail. The life force of the trooper the twi'lek had slain bled freely into the air, escaping him as his last gurgled breaths struggled through the rebreather of his helm. It was a fate he didn't deserve. And a fate, that The Vulture was enraged by. His left hand flexed outward, catching the energy that bled from the man and he funneled it back into himself, empowering his sorcery.
His apprentice drew her shotgun and gestured for the rest of the strike team to fan out. They would comb the area and find the one responsible for the death of their comrade and accept nothing but equal payment in return for his blood.
"Fan out! Find them!" Halketh shouted, using such a cue as mere bait to attempt tricking the twi'lek out into the open where he could strike.
"Vulture, this is Glacier-1, we've arrived on target, what is your status, over?"
"We were hit, vehicle is out of commission. Approaching on foot. Rally with us and we'll push forward together, over."
"Copy that, wilco, out."
Of course, as The Vulture skulked through the trees, his absolutely nauseating aura rolled from him in anxiety-inducing waves. Tide after tide of dread coiled from his form, accentuated by the necrotic leech his channeling on the foliage around him held. He was a man who feasted on life to grow more and more powerful on a world that was nothing but an expansive jungle as far as the proverbial eye could see. He wasn't sure precisely where the hidden assailant had gone, but with the dozens of storm commandos with him and more on the way, he doubted it would be long before they found her.
Darth Daiara
Willan Tal
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DECEASED Erskine Barran
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Rurik Fel
@Warposters
