Faction Dark Horizon [DE]

[Eina L'lerim-Vandiir]

Objective: Protect the last Outpost
Location: Ground, Corbos
Equipment: Sverð Fyrstr (weapons) | Ljósspjót (spear) | Skrúð Engill Fyrstr (armour) || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Darth Apophion | Vazz | Ossuaria | Maestus | Nal'Khem Szat | Pietro Demici | Arminius Kroeger | Merion Oreno | Darth Howl | Open
Direct tag: Darth Vinaze

[ Valkyrjan ]
"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Eina hoped she would be able to talk a little with Uncle Pietro; the older man was not, of course, her uncle by blood, but he always thought of her as his niece, and she always thought of him as her uncle. The same was true with Heinrich Faust , although there was more of a brotherly relationship between the man and the woman. However, the Avatar of Ashla was not so lucky, because there was no time for that. Events accelerated too quickly. She could also sense the countless Dark Side auras outside. Some she had felt before, some was new. But she was certain that the local Ashlan forces would be able to take on the Bogan.

In the next moment, she felt something familiar, a very familiar coldness that permeated the whole outpost, as if a cold knife had been plunged into her soul. Eina still didn't like to fight living persons, and only killed those who were demons or Eldritch creatures from the Netherworld. Or she was only killed in this world when she had no other choice. She believed that every soul deserved to be saved and healed. And this feeling, this aura she felt now, came straight from home, from the Netherworld. And she had already met him, on Tython. Then they fought and he disappeared.

"Darth Vinaze…" whispered barely audible.

She was sad that she had failed to convince the former Sith Lord to change and let go of the past. Her first attempt to heal his soul had failed, but she had not given up. The former Valkyrja understood the call, of course, and she refused to run away from it.

"I must go, Uncle. I must answer Vinaze's call. I'll hurry back so I can help." she told him, and even pressed a kiss on his cheek, if Pietro would let her.

She then stepped back and concentrated for a moment, at the end of which she teleported. The angelic-looking woman appeared a few moments later in the same place where Vinaze had been, and probably the other Sith as well. Eina was a very powerful Light Side vergence, her presence glowing golden in the Force. After all, she and Geiseric , aka Shield of Ashla had turned all of Ession into a massive Light Side Nexus during the last great war. She just glanced at the other Sith and Dark Side Force Users, then her gaze settled on the old man.

She landed with an elegant movement, first her spear touched the ground, then her toes, and finally she came to a full stop. She also tucked her wings behind his back at the end, so that they were out of the way and did not give too much surface area for attack.

"Long time no see... Darth Vinaze. Release the host whose body you possess. You have no right to oppress and enslave others." she told the Dark Side Spirit.

 

[Nal'Khem Szat]

Darth Apophion , Maestus , Vazz , Ossuaria

Those gathered had been faces both old and new, some of which Nal'Khem had been familiar with since the days of the Brotherhood of The Maw. Whatever great force of darkness had thought to bring them together on this day was of little consequence to the Lord of Whispers, but nevertheless, these crusaders were a light needing to be snuffed out, consumed by the all-encompassing darkness. As plans began to take shape within the command tent, Nal'Khem's black, abyssal eyes seemed to drift, beyond the fighting... beyond the citadel... beyond the stars themselves...

A ghostly voice, almost akin to a death rattle slithered into his mind, a familiar whisper from the powers he served. It was a whisper of fear... of slaughter... of death.

Closing his eyes for a moment, the Umbaran let out a long sigh, as if having to purge the whisper from his mind for a moment so that he may return to present matters.

"My soldiers will follow me along our flank. We will find whatever hole may be present among their defenses. If there is a way onto the walls... we will find it."

If his men weren't all dead by then, of course. Though lacking the former numbers of the Crusade at its full power, there would certainly be no shortage of enemies to kill.

"Once we breach the walls, we will turn their own defenses against them."

No small matter, but Nal'Khem's warriors weren't exactly normal. They had been empowered by rituals too esoteric for most to understand. Perhaps even the very Sith in the room would consider them... unnatural.

Another explosion crashed against the citadel walls in the distance, causing the Lord of Whispers to turn his attention to the very walls he wished to breach.

"I will make the preparations. We will be ready at your signal."

With that, he exited the command tent, ready to muster his forces for the oncoming assault.​

 

[Pietro Demici]

Darth Apophion , Maestus , Vazz , Ossuaria

The Last Stand

The One Behind The Veil

The One stood in solemn silence as the walls echoed with the sound of yet another barrage, the lost lives of the faithful crying out through the empyrean as they joined their goddess. The One Behind The Veil held his Ashlan rosary close, offering a prayer to the souls of those that gave their life in the name of the Light.

"Sir, we're receiving reports of incoming enemy movement. It seems their numbers have grown dramatically."

The One remained silent, his eyes closed behind his golden helm.

"Sir... what are your orders?"

His head finally rose, a feeling of acceptance washing over his very presence as he started for the door.

"Check for any breaches in our defenses. The minions of the Bogan are devious and clever. We must hold as long as we can."

"But sir... we're spread thin enough as it is."

Another crash rattled the very foundations of the fortress, causing several within the room to stagger.

"We must hold... for the Cardinal, and for Ashla. Do whatever you can... the Veilbearers and I will assist you."

Their sole duty had been to protect the highest ranking officials within the Crusade, yet with the downfall of their regime, all that remained of their task was to protect the Cardinal. But now... it seemed that would mean getting into the thick of it.

As he left the room, the bulk of the remaining Veilbearers followed, their lightsaber pikes at the ready. Only a handful of them remained with the Cardinal, the last line of defense against whoever may attempt to reach him.

Pietro Demici: Cardinal of Ashla

The Cardinal's lungs fought against him, forcing him to cough hideously as he rested in his chair. He was alone, locked away in a room deep within the citadel, his guards ensuring his safety as best as they could under the circumstances. It was a strange feeling, being so helpless. It felt like an eternity ago that he had almost met his end at the hands of his old friend Isla Draellix-Kobitana , yet the wound felt as if it had just been struck yesterday. Though his body may have healed, it appeared that wounds of the soul took much more time.

He never understood where he could have gone wrong. Why did his comrades betray him so? Were his goals so terribly unaligned with their own? So many of the faithful had been scattered, their former unity and camaraderie now a mere shadow of the past. The years he had spent since regaining consciousness had been spent constantly mulling over how it could have happened, but despite his constant prayers for guidance, there were no answers to be heard.

Suddenly, a familiar presence made itself known in the form of his dear friend Eina L'lerim-Vandiir , who had arrived with grim news of her own.

"My dear Eina... it is good to see you."

He offered what he could in terms of returning the hug, though his body was still quite weak compared to his former fiery self. As he pulled away from her, his eyes narrowed at the mention of the Sith'ari Darth Solipsis .

"I see..."

Was it all for naught?

"I am glad Ashla saw fit to bring you to us."

As she mentioned needing to leave, Pietro called out to her one last time.

"May Ashla guide you, Eina."

A tear trailed its way down his cheek as he said his goodbye, for he felt that he may never see her again.

 

[Darth Vinaze]

Dark Horizon

Eina L'lerim-Vandiir

When the angelic figure manifested in the long hallway before the old man, his lips curled in a grin. This woman had been his greatest failure, but in a life of downfalls the Sith Lord had only ever risen higher. When the Warlords of the Sith had fallen at Bastion, when he had been captured and twisted by the dark side at the hands of Lord Halketh, he had risen as an insatiable monster. When his own apprentice had sought to kill him at Ninn, he had created his own monster of the boy. When he had allowed Kascalion Giedfield, the false Sith'ari, to claim his life force as empowerment, it had ultimately led him to the true Sith'ari... Darth Solipsis . But this woman, avatar of the Light, had humiliated him at Tython while her husband had died delaying the Great Ritual of Solipsis. Since then, Darth Vinaze had not been an oft mentioned name, stilled worshipped in dark corners of the galaxy by loyal followers, but the Sith Lord had rarely involved himself in anything. Even when the New Jedi Order ransacked his vile laboratories on Exegol, he had not arrived to stop them. Long had the powers that be sought to find the lost Lord, the once-Kingmaker of the Sith. Alas, they had found nothing...

"Darth Vinaze... not a name I have heard in a long time, Ashlan, but a being such as you would never forget my power. The Crusaders praised you after Tython, didn't they? They had won, because of you, because of Geiseric, they had defeated the Sith more spectacularly, more decisively, than anybody since Lord Hoth himself. But what do you see now, as the darkness again claws at your walls? The laurels you all have rested on, do they equate to armour?" the old man in black spoke calmly, but with a tone of smug righteousness, all the while he stood perfectly still facing Eina, no indication that he meant to attack, but certainly no indication that he would be running...

 

[Maestus]

Corbos
The Wretched Citadel of the Ashlan
Pietro Demici
Nal'Khem Szat
Vazz
Darth Apophion

As Darth Apophion laid out his vision for the final siege, Maestus considered his warnings about the number of possible defenders within the holy walls. Truly, the number did not matter. Sure, it would quell the ever present, and currently rising, blood lust with the Twi'lek Sith. Today she had a different hunger to sate.

As Vazz made his way, she looked briefly around, taking in those who'd entered after her. When her eyes landed on Nal'Khem Szat something akin to a vicious smirk curled at the corners of her lips. She gave him a slight dip of the head in recognition. She remembered him, vaguely. From a long time ago. Another lifetime, perhaps. But she remembered.

East side, huh. A final look at the gathered Sith. She could taste the tension and egos in the air. Such was the case when you put 2 or more Sith in 1 room. Infighting was synonymous with Sith. On more than one occasion, infighting ruined them. Small minds and large egos never ended well. History is full of Sith failings due to the vile infighting. For a time, though, the Sith had been united. The Great Schism ended...

Her lips pursed while she let the thought go for now. The Good Cardinal lay ahead.

Turning on her bootheel, she swept from the tent. The Commander stood nearby, awaiting his mistress. His eyes were in constant motion. As the various Sith exited the tent, all fell under his watchful and scrutinous gaze. When Maestus appeared, he lowered his head to her. For her part, she strode off heading in a vaguely eastern direction. She wished to see the state of things directly for herself. It was a foolish commander who did not do her own research. That, and she trusted no one. While Darth Apophion may have honest intentions, Maestus didn't know him. As such, she fact checked his every word.

The Commander of Maestus Chosen assembled their full force, 40 strong behind himself and stood at attention while his mistress formulated their plan of attack. Apophion had been correct, she took note of the damaged walls on the east side. Perhaps a slight nudge and the hole in the wall could be enlarged to allow for easy access within.

Commander. 2 units forward once I enlarge the crevice. 2 units stay here. 4 units enter. Secure the ground floor. Once done, secure a perimeter. No one in or out without my word.

The Commander snapped around and began giving orders. He uttered not a word though. He communicated to the Chosen with hand signs. Silently, the Chosen took up their positions.

Maestus moved closer to the crevice in the wall. The poor wall had been badly abused. Blaster scoring. Cracks and fissures. Not to mention the big open spots where holes had been made. She studied the web of cracks, searching for a focal spot to center her concentration.

She paused. Froze, actually. She felt something, a tickle in the Dark Side of the Force. She'd not been sure of what state Pietro Demici was in, within the citadel's holy grounds. She knew he'd been gravely injured, but that had been years ago. Surely, he was healed by now? She felt him, that was the tickle nagging at the back of her mind. He was here. Alive. Weak. The Good Cardinal was no longer in his prime it would seem. Perhaps he'd been bitten a little too hard the last time the forces of Dark had battled Light. Still, a Warrior of the Light was never to be underestimated. Especially one such as Pietro. The Light was strong within the Good Cardinal. She was sure Pietro would spare no effort in preventing his capture.

As such, Maestus gathered her focus and will. She called upon the Dark Side, commanding it to her. The air along the East side of the Citadel became hotter and hotter. Anyone unused to such extreme temperatures would feel the sweltering heat envelope them. Sweating, dry mouth, any number of uncomfortable yet harmless sensations might wash over anyone on this side of the Citadel. She maneuvered the Dark Side around her like a second skin. A very hot and hard second skin. Essentially creating ethereal armor from the very fabric of the Dark Side.

Her left arm rose before her. The various metals that comprised the Maestus Shield Bracer glinting as the light reflected from it. Round her neck hung a necklace. Cheap and gawdy from the looks of the gems decorating it. Cheap or not, light bounced off the amethyst on her Dragon Shield Talisman .

She made no other movement or sound. Turning her obsidian eyes that burned with the lava of Mustafar, she focused on the eastern wall. Her eyes followed the web of cracks to the point where they all connected and came together. The cracks began to glow, faintly at first. Gradually, the cracks began to brighten into an orangish-red web of flames. The wall itself started to vibrate. Suddenly, the area centered on the web of cracks exploded inwards. Chunks of wall and debris of varying sizes and velocities rained down in anyone within the Citadel nearby. One chunk in particular, a couple meters large, landed on top of 2 of the Guardians within the Citadel, crushing them instantly.

Maestus swept her gaze within as the smoke cleared. Then she led the way within, stepping over the wall and through the freshly made entrance. Pausing to get her bearings, she searched through the Force. Until she found him. The Good Cardinal.

Like a thief in the night, Maestus was slow, steady and exercising the utmost care as she seeped into Pietro Demici mind. He might not even become aware of her presence right away, so skilled and patient was the Sith. Unless Pietro became aware and attempted to stop her, his moment of nostalgia for the past became a living nightmare. Maestus dug, found and manipulated the Good Cardinal's mind and memories. His most personal and embarrassing moments, as well as his most private and painful. Over and over would Pietro's mind's eye be assaulted by memories of his moments of weakness. His failures. The abandonment of his people. Her skill and subtlety Memory Walk with honed to an art form.

In the deep, dank recesses of Pietro's mind, Maestus speaks.


It pleases me that you yet live, Cardinal. We have much to discuss...​

 

[Darth Howl]

Howl traced a leathery finger along the death mask. Antiox goggles betrayed little emotion. Filtered exhalations created a persistent wheeze. At last the dark acolyte spoke.

"How exquisite."

He placed the ceremonial veil upon his crown. It felt made for him. Darth Howl believed this was the least he could do for new fans. He turned back to his painting.

"Now, where was I?"

Crimson plasma writhed like a vexis when the Sith activated his lightwhip and lashed out. He smote the painting in half igniting canvas into a miniature conflagration. Howl watched it burn with an unsettling calm.

"All art is quite useless."

Merion Oreno​

 

[Eina L'lerim-Vandiir]

The Light of Ashla | Champion and Avatar of Ashla

Objective: Protect the last Outpost
Location: Ground, Corbos
Equipment: Sverð Fyrstr (weapons) | Ljósspjót (spear) | Skrúð Engill Fyrstr (armour) || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Darth Apophion | Vazz | Ossuaria | Maestus | Nal'Khem Szat | Pietro Demici | Arminius Kroeger | Merion Oreno | Darth Howl | Open
Direct tag: Darth Vinaze

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Eina, of course, noticed Pietro's sadness and the fact that he was still much weaker and unable to regain his strength. The former Valkyrja would have liked to stay with her uncle, but she still saw Vinaze as the greatest threat here on the planet; she already knew his power and it was great, at least on Tython, so she dared not risk the possibility that the Eldritch might summon various creatures to the planet or similarly support his own as he had done on Tython. Otherwise, if she could have done it to protect everyone on the planet, she would have. But something never changes, and that was that while Eina's power was great here in Realspace, she was stronger in the Netherworld.

The woman with angel wings has indeed not forgotten anyone, especially Force patterns or what an aura looks like. She didn't forget the wounds or the subsequent scars on someone's soul. That is why she did not forget the presence of Darth Vinaze and remembered him. At times, she thought it was fortunate who her "parents" were, as they were both smart, highly intelligent, and so was Eina. At the older man's words, she nodded.

"Indeed, I will never forget you. Neither you, nor anyone I have ever met and felt or seen the aura of." she replied; she still saw the world differently from others, she was able to see the Force, to perceive it and not only reality with her eyes, like people.

Eina also saw that he didn't move, just stood there, not wanting to attack or anything like that. She wondered for a moment, was he taking advantage of one of her greatest weaknesses? That is, that in this world, a woman doesn't attack anyone, doesn't launch the attack first, just fights back in a fight? That is, the opponent always has to make the first move if it's a living being and not a demon or something like that. At most, she would just try to exorcise Vinaze's soul from his body to save him. But what if the man can no longer be saved?

The Light of Ashla showed surprise on her face as he continued to speak and ask questions. The woman shook her red hair; Eina had never bothered with such things, she did what she did, not for praise or glory. She didn't want to be a hero, didn't expect praise or reward for her actions. She did it because she was created to do it, it was her destiny, to protect and help the weak, the defenceless, to heal and help them, and to protect souls.

"I don't know, I've never dealt with it. I just do my duty. I haven't been here much since Exegol. I haven't rested, never have since Ashla intervened and created me. I live in a place where the Bogan doesn't just claw at the walls, it rams them constantly, taking advantage of the fact that rest is not an absolute necessity in the Netherworld. But you know that, you've lived there enough." she told him.

At the last words, she was a little embarrassed. Though she had spent a lot of time with her husband, Geiseric, and in the time they had both been in the Netherworld and raising their daughter, Eina had begun to learn human sayings and phrases and not to take everything literally, but that didn't mean she understood similes, irony, or double entendres. In fact, she understood them better than she did then, but she still took most things literally. This was also true now of Vinaze's words.

"Laurel is not good armour, but the Light and faith that Ashla will help those who ask for her help already equips the crusader." she told him again and her words reflected the fact that she was still struggled with expressions and phrases, as she had been in the past.

Eina was still bound by her own moral code, so she continued to neither attack nor move. Her posture was not threatening, but rather radiated peace and understanding, which might have seemed odd in the middle or on the edge of a Sith camp.

"And you, Darth Vinaze? Will you bow your head to Darth Solipsis again, as you did before? He once wanted to sacrifice everything and everyone within the Maw to destroy everything. Why are you following a person who doesn't care about anyone? Millions of souls lost on Tython, most from the Maw side... is it really worth serving him?" in her voice, as always, there was only sorrow and sadness.

 

[Onrai]

Sith War Tent
Tags: Darth Apophion Vazz Maestus Nal'Khem Szat

"I have one."

A voice came from within the tent, a sliver of muticolored light briefly becoming visible from through the fabric of the tent before a smoky tendril of shadow pulled back the curtain, revealing a more malevolent and corrupted shade that slinked into the war tent. Whether the residents recognized her or not, Onrai's gleaming white eyes amidst the wispy blackness of her amorphous form eyed the one whose actions had initiated the invasion of Corbos.

"You are dealing with manifestations of the Force that have, on multiple circumstances, been able to effectively use the power of the Light to impede or defeat your progress. The Dark's impediment by the Light is well known, courtesy of the Walls these malevolent beings love to manifest. Such Walls can remove your power, and ysalamiri can practically neutralize it as well. Have you considered perhaps the use of a power they cannot merely nullify, something not a mere contrapasso to that which you have known and cleaved to? There may yet be immediate ways to unleash such upon your enemies and offer them more terror than the mere present assault has inflicted."

The wraith observed Apophion, curious as to his response when offered more that could ail the remaining Ashlan remnants. While one offer had been made, another would yet be elucidated in time.

-

Lightward Citadel Saferoom
Tags: Pietro Demici

"You are worried."

As though it had been cut through with a knife, a tear was opened in the fabric of reality. For a moment, the slivers of a realm unlike Pietro's own were visible, a reality that could not possibly exist creeping on the edges of the tear. A leg emerged from it, glistening and gleaming a self-luminated greenish-white light, followed by an arm, and ultimately the emergence of a woman in white ceremonial robes. The greenish tinge of her form remained even as the tear sealed once she had stepped through, eying the ailing cardinal as she gave him a sympathetic frown.

"You expect fully that the horde of Darksiders will swarm and seize this place, and destroy it if they cannot. You also expect them to do things to you - horrific, abominable things that will leave you in a state beyond the brink of death from which no mortal should ever suffer. And you would be perfectly right."

The woman radiated great power, but it was of an enigmatic bent. It was neither Light nor was it the overwhelming Dark Side energy any one of the man's future captors would feel like. The closest analog would've been the sensation of something like the Reborn, the closest a mortal had come to attaining such a similar form of energy. The entity was very much unlike anything he had likely encountered, chthonic in deeper nature, yet visibly benign. Whatever emanations of intent he may have sensed did indeed indicate that whatever this was appeared completely genuine in her desire to aid him.

"But there is another way. Another opportunity in which you do not suffer this fate. I offer you the solutions of Oozultharoum, and a chance to see your Eina again without all that you are being reaped by the whirlwind that comes your direction."

A hand was offered to the cardinal. An offering made and brought to the precipice.

"In short, come with me, and live."

Perhaps something else to focus on would steel his mind from the attempted intrusions of Maestus .

 

[Darth Vinaze]

Dark Horizon

Eina L'lerim-Vandiir

"Ah, my dear foe," Vinaze took one step forward, "you have made the same mistake as your kind always do. You obsess over the lives of individuals as if they mean something, and you call it compassion. You look at the hordes of Mawites who perished for something greater than themselves and you pity them, as though they were not making the ultimate sacrifice in the name of a universe that is one with the Force. I, too, have made my fair share of sacrifices in our eternal war, all for that which has never ended to be ended once and for all. The truth you will come to see is that your victory on Tython was nothing, your victory at Exegol even less. It is as I have said it to be, my faith vindicated, my purpose true. The Sith'ari has returned, and as many will die as he demands. Will you weep for them?" the old man raised his left hand off the crooked staff he leaned upon, reaching it out to her, and in a blink the arm stretched into swirling shadows, extending, grasping out across the hallway towards Eina...

 

[Vazz]

Competition.

No, undermining. Take the good Cardinal alive. Vazz couldn't help but sigh in annoyance as he kept to the shadows. He wasn't after heads for pedigree. Pietro was a representative of the very organization that sought to wipe the Sith from history. He made his way forward, slinking in the darkness, letting the other Sith act as his distraction. It's just what he was good at.

Open warfare wasn't his place.

And yet when he arrived, yet another Sith had taken it upon themselves to extend a hand of friendship to the enemy. The worst kind of enemy. A destroyer, who haphazardly and unliterally destroyed everything Sith. It was annoying. Frustrating. Rage inducing. For now he just watched from the shadows, hidden from view, from the Force.

He'd strike when it came time, if he had a chance anyway. It seemed the Sith were so hellbent on saving him that he might not.

Pietro Demici

 

[Pietro Demici]

Darth Apophion , Maestus , Vazz , Ossuaria , Onrai

The Last Stand

The One Behind The Veil

The One Behind The Veil, leader of the devout protectors of the upper echelons of the Ashlan regime... now nothing more than another combatant. How their crusade had fallen, and though The One still kept his faith intact, there was no level of devotion that could cloud his vision from the dire nature of their situation.

He rushed for the walls, his hands motioning for the other Veilbearers to spread out, each taking what could potentially be key positions in the coming attack. They were capable warriors, some might say even among the best the Crusade had to offer. Yet, against such odds one would have to question even their skill. They were powerful, but they were no soldiers. The One would quickly shut the thought out of his head, for invoking such sorrow before the end would only ensure their demise.

He made his way to the battlements of the old fortress, his golden helm a shining beacon for all to see. He could have made a lofty speech, perhaps even rallied the troops to some degree, but that was a skill that belonged to one such as Cardinal Demici. The One held no such ability. So, there he would stand, waiting to fight whatever threat may come his way...

Pietro Demici: Cardinal of Ashla

Through the empyrean came a strange voice, riding the waves of an otherworldly energy unknown to the Cardinal. The words were accompanied by an ethereal entity, reaching out to Pietro across time and space itself. Though a shell of the great man he once was, he had never lost his fire, and refused to give into fear.

"Fear leads to the dark side, creature."

He stood up, his defiance as bright as ever in the face of darkness.

"If I die, I die in service of Ashla. My future is guaranteed, in life and death... but one such as yourself would never understand that."

The bitterness in his voice was apparent, for his disgust for the Bogan knew no bounds. His next act of defiance would be one of action, using what strength he could muster to banish the entity to wherever they had come from. Yet, his efforts were cut short, for another made their presence known. Deep in the caverns of his mind, Pietro could feel the years of missteps that had led him to this moment. The friends he had lost, the crusade he had failed. Yet... he remained unbroken, and in a moment of frustration, he cried out to the voice.

"Show yourself, devil. If you are truly worthy of my attention, do not hide behind the veil of manipulation."

Taking a step forward, his hand drifted toward his lightsaber. Though weak and frail, he could not allow himself to fail again... not now.

"Ashla is with me... so do your worst."

 

[Eina L'lerim-Vandiir]

The Light of Ashla, Champion and Avatar of Ashla

Objective: Protect the last Outpost
Location: Ground, Corbos
Equipment: Sverð Fyrstr (weapons) | Ljósspjót (spear) | Skrúð Engill Fyrstr (armour) || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Darth Apophion | Vazz | Ossuaria | Maestus | Nal'Khem Szat | Pietro Demici | Arminius Kroeger | Merion Oreno | Darth Howl | Open
Direct tag: Darth Vinaze

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Eina didn't cry over the death, she didn't cry even for a moment and she didn't feel sorrow when Geiseric died at the hands of Khamul Kryze . For her, death was not the final thing, but only a new beginning. She knew very well that death was neither final nor sad, as not much changes after death, only the soul continues to exist in another dimension. She understood, of course, that many people and living creatures fear death, or rather the unknown of what awaits them in the Netherworld.

She wept for souls, souls who had been hurt, tortured or destroyed. For the death of a soul is indeed the ultimate death. If the Avatars of Maw devour souls, there is no return from that state. Anyone could lose a limb, but it could be replaced and become the same as the old one, or better. However, if one mutilated the soul, it was irreparable.

"You still don't understand the Valkyrja, Children of Ashla, or Avatars of Ashla, even though you lived in the Netherworld…" the woman would have started to say.

She wanted to go on to say that in the case of the Mawite horde, she had seen the souls mutilated and tortured as they suffered because of what the Heathen Priesthood and the Taskmaster had done to them. She wept for each of them; and indeed she was compassionate. Though she did not expect a being like Vinaze to understand all this. But to return to why she could not continue what she had begun to say, for Vinaze had launched an attack on her. She could sense the Dark side's disturbance in the Force, and she could see it in the Force, reminding her of the greenish-black tentacles, tendrils, or arms, like the tentacles that the Eldritch creatures had.

Eina's next move could have been a reflection of her opponent's actions. While he held out his staff towards her, and from it came the Dark Side attack, she held out her spear, from which light-like tendrils extended towards the approaching darkness. These seemed to be soft golden tendrils in the Force, radiating warmth and safety. Eventually the forces of Bogan and Ashla clashed. Each force sought to gain the upper hand over the other, just as Light and Dark fought an eternal battle in the Galaxy.

"Why are you doing this? You gain nothing from these actions…" she told him.

 

[Maestus]

Corbos
Citadel
Pietro Demici
Vazz
Onrai
Ossuaria

As soon as the walls exploded inwards, Maestus Chosen were the first to enter. Pikes forward and jaws set in fierce determination. They engaged any and all who even hinted at the Light. With a ferocity rarely seen when one is at a number disadvantage this alarming, the Chosen stabbed, slashed and bludgeoned all within the reach of their pikes. No fear or hesitation shown as they advanced on Light Wielders or regular people like them. They fought til their very last breath, taking more than their fair share down to the Void with them.

Maestus was also quick to breach the eastern wall hole. She had yet to draw a weapon thus far. Preferring instead to pause as she climbed the remnants of debris and survey the interior. She had half a second before was rocked by a wicked blast of Force Power. Couldn't even figure out where it came from, she was busy being blasted against the wall behind her. Lekku flying, she slammed into the citadel's walls, head snapping three times against the duracrete.

That was not pleasant. She heard a very loud and distracting high pitched ringing in her head now. The wall slam must've knocked a few screws loose. Raising her hand to her eyes, she ran her fingertips over the lids, pressing down slightly. If she could not get this ringing and disorientation to stop, this would be a long day.

She stumbled to her feet, it taking a couple attempts before she was able to stand without holding the wall. Unbidden, the Force raged within her at the affront to her dignity. The blood in her veins felt like it was racing at mach speeds. It carried rage and a desire to conquer the Citadel and all within. The red flames that ringed her eyes were typically subdued yet ever visible. Now, the flames burned bright and wild, the obsidian center shrinking.

Testing her balance, she took a few tentative steps. Ok, so far so good. This damned ringing and disorientation was proving more resistant to her will. That would be remedied later as well.

All around her the sounds of battle swelled. From the clang of Beskar pikes onto the metal of armor. Lightsabers clashing together in a light show that sent many colored sparks flying. The screams and moans of the dying. This Maestus understood well. First and foremost, her Master had ensured she was strong. Not in the physical sense, but that inner strength few seem to have now. Then, he taught her to be a warrior. And now, The Warrior was alive.

Stepping over dead bodies, chunks of wall and the debris that tends to accumulate during a siege such as this, Maestus was steady. That damned ringing and disorientation were still entrenched in her mind. She would be forced to proceed more cautiously than she normally would.

Finally she took a chance to look around her and see the layout. She saw stairs, statues, halls and bodies. Some alive and upright. Many more dead and strewn about. A wicked smirk curled on one corner of her mouth. Leaning down, she picked up a lightsaber hilt forgotten on the floor. It's previous owner, if she had to guess, was the poor fool decorating the floor with his innards and blood nearby. Noting the deep puncture wound just below his sternum, and the lack of cauterization of the wound, this was the handiwork of one of her Chosen.

She held the hilt in front of her and ignited it. A vibrant deep blue blade erupted before her eyes. She studied the blade, its color and a number of other factors as her eyes traveled the blade. How many lives had this blade claimed, she mused. The Light Wielder who'd held the blade prior likely thought he was doing "The Good Work". More than likely thought with every adherent of the Dark Side struck down was making a difference. Pathetic fools. They simply could not fathom that numbers weren't the end all, be all. The ones of the Dark struck down simply thinned the herd, not destroy it. In Maestus opinion, the gene pool could use some bleach. Full of those who lacked conviction and vision. Those content to toil in service to others as a slave, never seeking their birthright.

She clicked the blade off and turned towards the stairs. Her eyes followed them upwards, considering. When on a hunt, she typically relished the stalking of her target. This ringing and disorientation bothered her so intensely, she could not risk wasting time. Pietro Demici was here, she felt him. Closing her eyes and commanding her mind and the Dark Side to focus, she thrust all her senses out to find the Good Cardinal.

There he was.

Though, he was not alone. Another presence, one alien to the Twi'lek, was with him. Unsure of the intent of this unknown party, she had no time to spare. Forgoing the steps, she squatted down and exploded up into the air. Smoothly, or so she hoped, she flew over the half-wall acting as a barrier and landed on the upper floor. As her feet hit the floor, she took off guided by the Force.

Closer to the chambers housing said Cardinal, she was challenged by 2 foes. One with a blaster, the other a saber. Angered by this obstacle, with her quarry just beyond them and behind a door, the Sith's fury grew. With a deep, guttural growl, her empty hand lifted up in the air. Her hand was splayed open, fingers twitching. With a vicious snap, she swung her arm down and stretched it out before her. While she did, her hand clenched tight into a fist. Outstretched, her fist opened, releasing a vicious blast of telekinetic energy. Fueled by the rage that seam within, the energy was searing. Those astute enough with the Force could see a red hue unleashed from Maestus fingertips. Savagely the energy exploded into her 2 enemies.

The pair were knocked back into the door separating Maestus from the Cardinal and his unknown guest. As they flew, their clothing and hair exploded in flames. Such was the power behind the energy, the pair slammed into and then through the chamber's doors. Sliding across the floor of the room Pietro Demici stood in came two bodies in various stages of burning and dying. Their screams would cause nightmares for weeks more than likely.

Stolen saber hilt in hand, Maestus strode the remainder of the hall. She did pause at the remnants of the doors, her eyes taking in what lay in wait within. The Unknown Presence becoming weightier every second. She stepped into the room, unaware of the Assassin lurking about thus far. Looking finally to Pietro, Maestus began to wander the perimeter of the room.

Pietro Demici. It has been a long time, my friend. ​

 

[Darth Vinaze]

Dark Horizon

Eina L'lerim-Vandiir

The extensions of the two combatants locked violently in the middle of the hallway, raw energies of light and dark pushing at one another, both their energies feeding from the Netherworld. She was correct, he had also made his home in that realm beyond the stars, but in a different way.

"It is you who fundamentally misunderstands, Ashlan. You try to bridge the gaps between this world and the next as though they are one and the same. You see life here, and life there. But I see death, everywhere. You say I act for nothing, and you speak true. I have stared into the void so many times, and seen it staring back, looming before us all. The only way darkness can prevail is to snuff out all of the Light. I would destroy both the Jedi and the Sith in the name of Darth Solipsis... when there is nothing, we will have the power to be everything."

 

[Onrai]

Pietro Demici Maestus Vazz

"How childish."

The cardinal's defiance made the woman's form exude a surprisingly powerful sigh. "So eager to delineate something as 'light' or 'dark.' Worry is a perfectly natural thing for mortals to feel. I would know." After all, she was not exactly an eternal entity, nor could she falsely proclaim herself to be.

Then he stood up. The entity before him gave no acknowledgement, no motion or reaction to his action, until he began to monologue. She sighed more even as the cardinal's hand raised and the energy of the Force pressed against her being, seeking to force her out of his hidey-hole as if she were naught much more than an illusion.

How fortunate that she had touched a power different from the Dark, one that was empowered through the use of the Force rather than crippled by it. And one that allowed her presence to be here genuinely as opposed to mere illusion.

"Can you stop with the monologue about your death? I have no plan to kill you, though I understand the guarantee of a future more securely than you ever could know. For example, I know that there is much more to know of than the various shades of the Force." She opened her mouth to say more, but as Pietro's attention shifted to something else, and his agonized cries of frustration made themselves known to the Sith who entered into the room, she said nothing.

Then the door burst open and smoldering corpses turned to ash before revealing the form of the one who had nagged at Pietro's mind.

"I see." She said, eyes locked on the tattooed Twee for a moment before turning back to the cardinal himself. "I ask you one more time. Come with me, steel your mind against the unreality that may yet await you, and live a being further enlightened. Or you may yet be driven into Oozultharoum's embrace unprepared, and not even I will be able to help save you from what will come. Regardless of your decision, know that your end will not be met here. There is no purpose for it."

Once more, she offered her hand to the cardinal, an option for him to take rather than to attempt to wield his blade against the Sith in a battle he would certainly lose.

 

[Darth Apophion]

Apophion looked at the wraith, Onrai just before he exited the tent. "I know that the light seeks to ever drive back to the darkness. I know the risks and accept the consequences. Aside from that, I will not debate philosophy with a wraith or some dead specter."

After weeks of relentless siege, the landscape around the fortress had been transformed into a desolate tableau of war's endurance. The once-verdant fields were now scarred with the deep, jagged lines of trenches, carved into the earth like the wounds of the land itself. These trenches snaked through the terrain, a labyrinth of mud and despair, their earthen walls shored up with sandbags and scavenged planks, bearing the marks of countless bombardments. Rainwater collected in the hollows, mingling with the detritus of conflict to form a morass that clung to the boots and spirits of the soldiers within.

The fortress walls of Lightward, once proud and imposing, stood battered and bruised under the onslaught. Stone and mortar bore the scars of artillery fire, gaping holes revealing the beleaguered defenders within. Parapets, once the vantage points of vigilant sentries, were now shattered remnants, large games in the defenses for the attackers to pour into, they would breach the walls. The air hung heavy with the scent of smoke and the sharp tang of gunpowder, a constant reminder of the unending storm of war.

After leaving the command tent Apophion joined the ranks of the Sangre Tercio, an elite unit under his command, known throughout Sith Space for driving the Ashlan Crusaders off Begeren. Clad in armor that seemed to absorb the light around him, Apophion moved through the trenches with a calm that belied the chaos of their surroundings. His soldiers, weary yet unbroken in spirit, stood taller at his approach, their resolve fortified by the presence of their leader. Apophion surveyed the trenches and the soldiers who held them, his gaze piercing through the pall of war to the heart of his warriors. Here, in the mire and the blood, was the crucible in which the true mettle of the Sith was tested and proven. The Sangre Tercio had held the line against overwhelming odds, their blades and wills unyielding in the face of the enemy's relentless assault.

Apophion's voice cut through the din of distant artillery, each word a testament to his power and authority. "Soldiers of the Sangre Tercio. Your valor has been the bulwark against our foes. This fortress will fall today, stand because of your sacrifice and strength. The dark side flows through us, a river of power that will sweep away those who dare stand against us."

Apophion stood in front of his men ready to lead the charge. But he knew this would be no easy victory. Inside Pietro Demici men of the Golden Veil would likely be leading the defense. A Matter he likely would need to deal with personally.

With a gesture, Apophion commanded the operation's next phase. "Deploy smoke," he ordered, his voice cutting through the din of war with calm authority. The light artillery units, positioned with precision around the besieged fortress, adjusted their aim. Moments later, the air was filled with the distinctive sound of smoke shells arcing through the sky, their payloads designed not to destroy but to obscure. As the shells burst overhead, thick, billowing clouds of smoke began to envelop the battlefield, cloaking the advance of the Sith forces. Under this veil, the assault began in earnest.

"ALL UNITS CHARGE!"

At the forefront of the assault, the Sangre Tercio, led by Apophion himself, targeted the fortress's main gate on the North side. It was here that the resistance was most fierce, the defenders well aware that the gate's fall would spell doom for all within. As the Sith forces approached, a hail of blaster fire and defensive spells met them, the air crackling with energy and the ground shaking from the impact of heavy weapons.

Apophion, amidst the chaos, was a force of nature. His lightsaber, a blade of crimson that cut through the smoke and shadow, carved a path toward the North gate. With each fallen Sith, his resolve only hardened, his advance relentless. Around him, the Sangre Tercio fought with a ferocity that matched their leader's, their losses fueling their rage and determination. Soon they would at the walls.

Darth Vinaze | Arminius Kroeger | Maestus | Vazz | Eina L'lerim-Vandiir | Nal'Khem Szat | Ossuaria

 

[Eina L'lerim-Vandiir]

The Light of Ashla, Champion and Avatar of Ashla

Objective: Protect the last Outpost
Location: Ground, Corbos
Equipment: Sverð Fyrstr (weapons) | Ljósspjót (spear) | Skrúð Engill Fyrstr (armour) || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Darth Apophion | Vazz | Ossuaria | Maestus | Nal'Khem Szat | Pietro Demici | Arminius Kroeger | Merion Oreno | Darth Howl | Open
Direct tag: Darth Vinaze

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

The power of the Bogan and Ashla continued to swirl in the corridor where the man and woman stood and fought. An outside observer, who did not have Force Sensitivity, might have only seen in the dim hallway that a man and a woman were standing in the hallway, far apart, pointing a stick and a spear at each other. But in the case of someone who was Force Sensitive, they could feel the flow and swirl of light and darkness, and even see the cavalcade of coloured disturbances in the Force.

She knew perfectly well that it was a combination of patience and concentration; just like before. The one who breaks concentration first will lose. Because the other will ruthlessly exploit that moment. For this very reason, Eina could not attack or move closer to try to interrupt his attack. For even if she had teleported behind him, that is, if she had tried, she would have been hit by the attack. There was no way out, someone was going to get hurt.

Fortunately, however, it was possible to speak while concentrating, so, as he did, Eina responded. It probably shouldn't have surprised anyone that she thought otherwise:

"When you look into the darkness and emptiness, the void of your own soul looks back at you. Your reality. If I do this... I see life, a new possibility, where life can blossom and grow. If we looked into the void here, we'd both see something different. It's up to you what you want to see, your own reflection looking back at you." she replied to him. "You can't suppress or extinguish the Light... there is only one way it will be total darkness. If there is no life left in the Galaxy, if everything is destroyed, even you and Darth Solipsis. For your souls and auras will still flicker in the Force. Darkness and nothingness means where there is no life. Then the Force will disappear, and so will you. The Dark Side does not equal death... and true death is only when the Force is gone. But then no one and nothing will rule, nor rebuild anything. All Sith long to rebuild the galaxy to their own design. But they do not think that if there is nothing left, they will be nothing as well."

She was silent for a moment here, then looked at Vinaze over the Force attacks.

"Shall I show you what it's like when there really is nothing left?" she asked in all seriousness.

 

[Pietro Demici]

Darth Apophion , Maestus , Vazz , Ossuaria , Onrai

The Last Stand

The One Behind The Veil

The Sith attack begin in earnest, bringing upon the last bastion of the good Cardinal's force a threat beyond all comprehension. Yet, they were all soldiers of Ashla. None would dare show fear in the sign of such an attack. Yet, through it all, The One could not help but to see the folly in it all. Despite all of the years they had put into their holy purpose, there was no amount of faith that could have prepared them for such catastrophic failure. Yet, they would serve their goddess nonetheless, and as such, The One would ignite his lightsaber pike and dive into the fray.

His words echoed throughout the field of battle, as his golden visage cried "FOR ASHLA!!!!"

It was less of a battle cry, and more of a final declaration of devotion, but either way, it would serve them enough, for it would rally their troops in an effort to simply give all they had left. He made his way through the fray to the visage of Darth Apophion , a Sith lord previously unknown to him. Without a single word, The One dropped from the battlements, his crushing presence slamming itself upon the ranks of the Sangre Tercio. As he cut several down, he eyed he Sith that had equally cut through the Ashlan ranks, and with a raising of his pike, his masked visage approached.

"You shall not pass, Sith."

Pietro Demici: Cardinal of Ashla

Pietro's mind was jarred once more, drawing back to the otherworldly presence that had made itself known.

"You know nothing of me, demon, and you will let me die as I see fit. Whatever you may offer is of the Bogan, and I will not be led astray."

No sooner did the words leave his lips than did the presence of the dark entity make itself known. The former apprentice to Darth Solipsis had been on the Cardinal's radar for some time, though they had never met. Yet, her evil was all too well known to Pietro, and his eyes would narrow at her approach accordingly.

SNAP-HISS

His lightsaber ignited with the most radiant light, a reminder of the greatness the Cardinal once held. Yet, despite his weakened state, his head remained held up in eternal defiance to the darkness.

"You have no concept of friendship, Maestus."

The lack of "Lord" in the title was certainly intentional, the vitriol spewing from Pietro's mouth like an engine with an oil leak.

"Show me what the condemned have taught you, and may Ashla have mercy on your soul."​

 

[Darth Vinaze]

Dark Horizon

Eina L'lerim-Vandiir

"There is nothing you can show me, girl, nothing that is not the lies you Ashlan's tell yourselves. If it takes the death of everything in the galaxy for the light to be snuffed, even if it means every Sith must die, then so be it. We have returned from the brink before, when there were just two. I have the faith to know that we would arise from the ashes. From nothing. You claim the love and respect of mortals, but do you really know them? Do you know what the oldest emotion of all mortals is, the one that guides them deeper than any other, the one that will always lead them to the darkness?"

 

[Darth Apophion]

As the shattered remnants of the main gate fell away, Darth Apophion and his elite Sangre Tercio surged forward, a dark wave poised to engulf the fortress's heart. The air was thick with the scent of victory, the fortress seemingly within their grasp. Yet, fate, ever capricious in the theater of war, had yet to play its final hand.

From the smoke and chaos, a figure descended from the battlements like an avenging spirit. He was 'The One,' a member of the Golden Veil of such renown that even amidst the ranks of the Sith, his name was whispered with a mix of respect and fear. Apophion had heard of this man from the Elite Gaurd of Pietro Demici , an Ashlan Crusader known for their unwavering dedication to the light and their unparalleled skill in combat, 'The One' landed amidst the Sangre Tercio with the grace of a falcon. In moments, several of the Sangre Tercio lay defeated, their formidable skills outmatched by The One's prowess. Apophion sensed the momentum of the battle shift. Victory was now uncertain.

Apophion locked eyes with the man. The One, telling him he would not pass.

"The Ashlan Crusade," Apophion began, his voice carrying the certainty of the victory, "your valiant attempt to cleanse the Sith worlds, is over. What stands before you is the future—a future where the Sith are not merely survivors, but architects of the new order."

As the final echoes of Apophion's words faded into the clamor of the surrounding battle, the moment of stillness between the two shattered. With a sudden, explosive burst of dark energy, Apophion launched himself forward. His lightsaber in hand the Vermillion blade made a lightning-fast strike at the One's Left arm. This however was a feint, quickly the Sith changed the trajectory of the blade by moving his shoulder, aiming for the neck just above the chest, hoping to kill 'The One' in a lethal single blow.

Darth Vinaze | Arminius Kroeger | Maestus | Vazz | Eina L'lerim-Vandiir | Nal'Khem Szat | Ossuaria