Destroyer of Dreams (OS Dominion of Ragoon VI)

[Krux Mullarus]

Location: The woods
Objective: Find [member="Darth Azurea"]
Allies: Darth Azurea
Enemies: [member="Draco Vereen"]
7/20

The forest seemed to go on forever. His voice echoed and, only after a moment, he heard her voice again. Right there, she has to be there! With her burning, suffering aura like a wildfire in the middle of the woods and her disturbed voice echoing through the woods into his ears, Mullarus could accurately pinpoint her location. The Force guided his footsteps and, before long, he found her.

It only took him a split second to find himself by her side. As soon as he did so, a bubble formed around the two of them, some Sith magic he had never seen before. "Azurea, are you alright? Sit down, your leg's covered in blood! You're making it worse by standing on-" Suddenly, Mullarus remember what she said about a sniper in the trees. That was odd. The natives didn't have such technology and the republic didn't have a presence on Ragoon IV...or did they?

Mullarus turned around and looked around. Whoever - or whatever - was the sniper, they were doing a good job of hiding. He felt no presence through the Force, and saw no aura with Force Sight. He hated to stick around and become the next target. He turned to Azurea, frowning and using one of his sleeves to wipe away the tear on her cheek, "Alright, forget the sniper, we're getting out of here. Put revenge aside for today, because if we try to hunt him, we'll both get riddled full of holes. Now relax." Mullarus reached down and placed an arm under her knees to lift her up into his arms and start to sprint away in the direction of his makeshift campsite.

Meanwhile, he kept his ears open for any sounds in the trees, just in case...

 

[Darth Ophidia]

[3/20]
Objective: B. Monster Hunting.
Location: Smouldering Wasteland.
Enemies: One Big Beast.

An apology, Darth Ophidia was genuinely disappointed. For a second there, she was looking forward to stomp the acolyte into the dirt and teach her some manners. Now she did not have the incentive anymore. Still, she would apply a punishment of sorts. Her head turned from [member="Gav Arwell"] to [member="Kylath Amadis"] as the latter obviously had something to report.

Twice in a day addressed by name, was she perhaps becoming too known a figure? Was her armour too conspicuous? Well, it was quite a pretty thing she was wearing. Her attention returned to the matters at hand. A small nod of her head was all the courtesy she bothered giving Kylath.

“Malia you say?”

She thought for a moment before a wry smile spread on her lips, hidden under her visor.

“Acolyte Arwell! You fashion yourself a hunter. Bring me the heads of those Malia or I will have you flogged for your ignorance. Acolyte Amadis will aid you, or you aid him. I do not care about the how, but get me those skulls and you shall have your forgiveness. There is no option for failure; it is success or death, young Sith Hopefuls; Success or death.”

Those words were her way, her philosophy, her life. She had lived by them since long before she became Sith. Or rather, it had been those words that lead her to the embrace of the Dark Side in the first place.

 

[Isamu Baelor]

Objective: A
Location: The Forest
Allies: One Sith
Enemies: Local Inhabitants
1/20

They were family. The men and women of the Sith, the ones who were numb to the force, yet still fought for the empire. It was they whom Isamu considered family. For years they fought together. Side-by-side, under the constant threat of death, they fought together. It was a deep bond that connected each and every one of them. One that was thought unbreakable.

After breaking the Republic at Contruum, the Sith began devouring the planets in the former Republic space. Now the Sith turned their gaze to Ragoon IV, and it would feel their mighty fangs. The operation began with the bombing of large swathes of the planets dense forests. A landing would be all but impossible without it.

Isamu, and his soldiers, were among the first to land planetside. They advanced ahead of the main force, and delved deep into the mighty forests. They were tasked with the destruction of the Ragoon settlements, and were to eradicate, or enslave, the local the inhabitants.

 

[Sera Inkari]

Location: Czatha Valley

Allies: The Current and future to carry it.
Posts: 3/20

​

Where was Sera Inkari in the middle of all this, where do you think she was, meditating of course as always, by a pristine lake no less. Wild abandonment and destruction going on around her, she’d found a waterfall and was sitting by it, reaching out to the planet’s currents themselves, or at least the representation of it in front of her. Kintan's priestess required a great deal of water, and so almost reached out to their liquid current ahead with reverence, reverence and fatality.

Her eyes opened as the large HAT-AT walkers neared, metal stomps across dead ground. Absolution across her features for the necessity of the act, their force demanded much of those with the will to act, to endure. A small tube was taken out of her pocket, and with a drip, drip, drip… a small virus released into their water supply. Subtle transformation across grander scales, she moved her finger within the water stirring, lighting her finger's aura aflame as she withdrew her attention, burning any trace of the infection, and the surface layer of dead skin along with it from her nail.

She had to be sure her act took, one of the few with the antidote. Creatures of the lake and the running stream carrying the multiplying microbes outward not so lucky, spreading soon to nearby streams and beyond. Injecting herself with the cure, she was shivering but her fever would soon pass, burning up on the Priestess’s sometimes harsh but always certain exterior.

One more seed planted, she pulled her hood over her head and waited by her lake, watching.

 

[Darth Centax]

Location: Wasteland Forest
Allies: [member="Gav Arwell"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"]
Mission: Hunt Malia
Posts: 4/20

Eager to prove, readying his rifle with a click, and checking his saber, the glint in his eyes as he tossed the helmet in his hands to the side, flared up again. Any chance for a fight, or a challenge.

“Consider it done.” Connar, or Kylath, or whatever the hell his name was these days, remarked, talk about an identity crisis! This was one way to prove any doubts wrong.

“Last spotted it two clicks north.” Assuming Gav followed him, he would lead her through the undergrowth, black from the Sith's activities, intermixed with parting greens. It was said that once you heard a malia you were already dead, so Kylath approached with some caution but not enough, not enough by far, he wasn't a hunter, he was military, or infantry, and it showed.

Worse, the impassioned young Zeltrix, half zeltron, half epicanthix had a chip on his shoulder, he wanted the fight, and it could very well get him killed if it wasn’t trained out of him, or fixed some other painful way. Halting up he put his hand up to slow them, and spotted a cluster of dead bodies ahead in a clearing, no sign of the beast, the sounds of battle had either silenced or moved on.

Kylath’s body tensed, squatting low from a bush and looking through the scope, blowing hair out of his eyes. “Any ideas?” Small, fast, deadly, you didn’t want malia getting the drop on you, and if she was a hunter... the young Sith was half ready just to walk right in and shout a challenge, but maybe Gav had trapped beasts like this before? [member="Gav Arwell"]

 

[Six-O]

Objective: A - Fight, Kill, Survive
Location: Outside Town Designated 22-1b, "Noran"
Allies: [member="Darth Ferus"] | One Sith
Enemies: "Noran" Irregulars
Posts: 3/20

Statistically the odds were well out of his favor, the weaponry was of a tactical variety chosen to engage and defeat multiple Squad-level groups of enemy. Six-O was alone, for now. While he most certainly did not trust the grit or combat swagger of the Organics he had found himself assigned to, he unabashedly held no lack of faith in his own prowess. He could and would thin this horde, and backup would undoubtedly swoop in to take credit for his work, as was typical. Of course he hadn't known the Sith Lord Ferus had sent them marching. An ugly scene was indeed about to unfold.

"I sense something. . . something. . unspeakably dark." The Iktochi confided, eyes squinting shut, tips of fingers carefully pressing to forehead. The approach of Darth Ferus had indeed welled a great burden of unease in the Force. "Make ready, we're moving."

Weapons hummed with energy, bolts and firing mechanisms clicked in to place one after the other and the Noran Irregulars, defenders of this patch of land, began to creep onward with great caution.

"Mind your spacing, be ready for anything." The syllables cooed like phantom mist, just barely audible in the nether.

The Droid, Six-O, unhinged the Butcher Vibroblade from the magnetic seal that embraced it so lovingly upon the back of his chassis. The blade, much like his metal frame, had been dulled with soot and ash to avoid glint or gleam from the stabbing rays of sun that beamed through the web of frond shadows. Firm he clutched it in the hooked grasp of his left claw, calculating the necessary force of impact the limb would need to exert to cleave through the durasteel chainmail the defenders were wearing in an instant.

Tightly he moulded himself against the razor-sharp stalks, his photoreceptors dimming to blackness. He waited.

Closer they crept.

Still the Droid waited, observing as they edged through the thick meadow overgrowth, trying to avoid the cut and slice of the dry vegetation as best they could.

They drew in further.

Six-O was silent, he was as a statue basking behind dark curtain of shade. The targets were already prioritized, the Heavy Repeaters would come first, then the powerful Verpine weapons. He allotted numerous resources in to tracking sensors for the Jedi. He'd have to avoid that engagement, they were too durable compared to the others. A cylindrical flachette grenade fell in to the clutch of right hand, it was almost time.

They were upon him.

Like release from a powerful gear, Six-O struck suddenly with the Vibroblade, cleaving through link-chain, bone, flesh and muscle as he swept the metal blade curve down into the shoulder of his closest foe, splitting his body grotesquely, blood and organs began to disgorge from the crimson interior space of the meat chassis. There was a howl, pain so agonizing it would have pierced the heavens.

"Contact!"

"Kill it!"

Voices suddenly began to shout, followed by boom and barrage of Verpine Rifle and Blasters. The Droid levered the body with his blade, using the split corpse as shield to absorb and dull the intensity in the first wave of fleeting shots. The Flachette round took flight from it's right hand, bursting above two of the defenders wielding heavy repeaters, they fell, bodies leaking great geysers from a thousand red crevasses.

If [member="Darth Ferus"] had not known where his Droid tool had been before, he surely did now as the atmosphere below the canopy of fluffy-headed, skin biting, dry fronds became chaos. He need only follow the shouts, need only flutter towards erupting light of combat. . . need only gravitate to the sound of music that the Droid played -- strange quirk that lingered in the operating code.

Blood letting of any sort needed a melody to unfold with.


[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JwYX52BP2Sk[/youtube]

 

[Triss]

Objective: Hang in there
Location: Rangoon forest
Allies: None
Enemies: [member="Sage Bane"] [member="Vrag"] [member="Reverance"]
Post: 2/20

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qiirw-J3uSE​

The tree Shadowmane was strapped to was some sort of an altar intended for Sith Alchemy, where sacrifice in blood was to be offered to the Dark Lord. Wind chimes and feathers were suspended from the branches, skulls of animals swinging in the breeze like ominous decorations for a sinister ritual. Einar had been chained to it for days, without any food, water or rest. His sleep-deprived body was in a state of semi-trance, treading a fine line between living and the dead. His chest was adorned by blood markings of occult symbolism, carved into his skin by blade of Sith beastmaster.

The wounds healed almost immediately, leaving behind a trail of encrusted blood. Einar just dangled there, amidst the trees, before his senses were grazed by a recognizable, albeit novel presence. The essence he palpated through the Force was stygian, dark as the penumbra of a stellar eclipse. He fully comprehended the Sith would return to the planet, only to find the beastmaster gargling in his own blood. Einar had invaded the mind of a Chrysalide, effectively commanding the animal into devouring his Sith enslaver. The fiend butchered the beastmaster in his sleep, after Shadowmane taught it how to open the door of the kennel it was incarcerated in. Once again, the wretched beast would serve the Valkyri, in his attempt to salvage his own life, or what was left of him.

There was nothing left inside Einar's skull, but bare, untamed instinct. He thus raised his head to look at the sky, his viridian orbs turning white in his eyesockets. Lips parted to let out a loud grunt, as his spirit searched the forests around him to find the Chrysalide rancor. The beast was still nearby, rattling the bloody bones of beastmaster it devoured a few days prior to dominion. It felt Shadowmane's presence in the Force, attempting to penetrate and overtake its entity. The rancor greeted him with a gnarl, like a horse greeting a familiar rider.

Two beings them melded into one, the border between man and beast blurring in the most unnatural of alliances. Shadowmane was inside beasts's head, where potent mixture of hormones determined the volatile nature of the rancor. To command the will of such monster was no small feat, especially as the semi-sentience implied a sense of self-awareness. Nonetheless, Einar prevailed and directed the rancor towards clearing just south to where he was situated, the animal racing through the forest like a raging bull clearing everything in its path. Ghastly shrieks ripped the air, reverbating through the trees as a warning to those who approached the whereabouts of Einar Shadowmane. He would not be enslaved twice.

 

[Setzi Lunelle]

Objective: B, Clear out Hazards, Not get shot again or eaten
Location: The Forest
Allies: [member="Mullarus"]
Enemies: The Beast [member="Draco Vereen"]
5/20

Finally Acolyte Mullarus was by her side, urging her to sit down. As they both were now protected by the near-invisible Force shield, Azurea knew that with her strength fading, she wouldn't be able to keep that barrier steady for much longer. The Sith Knight was nowhere near dying, but her wound was not superficial. It would need to be treated, or after a short while, she could actually bleed out.

"We don't need to use telepathy," she said, thinking aloud as Pyrrhus's Acolyte wiped her tears away with his sleeve. She absentmindly grabbed his hand, grateful at his tenderness. "The sniper is adept at that power. And it's a male. In the trees. That's all I know," she said, sucking air through her teeth and squeezing his fingers harder. It was obvious she was in a lot of pain, and now with her Force Rage on the wane, Darth Azurea felt the trauma to her leg more acutely.

But when he lifted her up, Darth Azurea howled in pain and suddenly lashed out at him. "Stop Acolyte Mullarus! We are safer here in the Protection Bubble!" The brunette Sith Knight would never resort to calling him names or disrespectful taunts, but her words were laced with frustration.

Right on cue, snarls and growls of the Malia could be heard in the direction that Mullarus had been sprinting towards.

"But I can't hold it much longer. It requires too much concentration and I'm ailing. I want you to take us to the ground, and you need to continue the Protection Bubble. Okay?" she asked, her voice shrill with desparation. With the beasts and the snipers they were not safe, even with the Acolyte running at Force Speed. She finally smiled through her discomfort: "I bet Pyrrhus never taught you this, but he's not a fan of defensive powers. If you can manage this Force technique, it will come in handy in situations like this."

 

[Isamu Baelor]

Objective: A
Location: Ragoon Settlement
Allies: One Sith
Enemies: Local Inhabitants
1/20


Raoh was as a blood-starved beast, desperate to satiate his hunger. He descended upon the Ragoon settlement, and slaughtered all those he could see. The ancient Sith made no distinction between adult or child, all fell to his blade. The Flesh Mutilator roared with a terrifying scream. It shrieked as it tore through their bodies. One by one, the inhabitants of the village were gruesomely cut down. The blood sprayed, as his sword cut through them. He could feel every drop that showered on him. It was exhilarating.

Raoh took a deep breath. He could smell their fear. They reeked of it. It sent a shiver down his spine. All around him was death, and he relished every second of it. It was a delicacy, savoured like fine wine. His feast was far from finished, however. Yet more drew breath, and ran for their lives. “You may run, but you cannot hide!” He exclaimed, in a fit of blood lust. He would not let his prey escape.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Objectives: Hunt
Prey: [member="Darth Azurea"] [member="Mullarus"]
4/20

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YEEBCSComdM​

Any person trained in the use of Protection Bubble understood that it often required the person to remain stationary. This new warrior was my new target. Injure them both and then track the blood until I found them and did as I pleased with them. The irony of the situation. I could heal my victims with relative ease if I so chose.

With the third bolt Chambered, and sitting at almost a kilometer from them, they had a long way to go. Even still I would probably only get one or two shots off after they started coming for me. And sitting still would be a mistake. Lining up the crosshairs at the new arrival I breathed in... breathe out...pull the trigger. The bullet zipped through the air at the man's legs. Perhaps trying to move his friend would be his own undoing. If they were both injured I could hunt them instead of the other way around.

One the round was out, I chambered another one and slipped around the back of the tree I was in, leaping to the next tree. The translucent outline appearing faintly while I moved through the branches. And then a jump to the next tree. Let's find the next spot for me, one that I could set an ambush for if they came for me easily.

 

[Reverance]

Objective: Getting frazzled some moar, getting his block knocked off
Location: Forest of Ragoon
Allies: [member="Vrag"], [member="Sage Bane"], One Sith
Enemies: Weeds and a pesky Marsh (Hazard)

8/20

He struggled against her manipulations, as he always had. A hand to the mouth, a stroke of the skin, he'd bite down if given the chance. The sort of lingering impact she may have grown to understand, if not fully appreciate. Twisting his head from her hold, one arm moved upwards, forearm pressed against her throat and pushing upwards. His free and stronger hand pushed down, pushing her leg away from his chest and with the proper leverage, he would splay her back against the tree, pinning her for the surprise of his initial strike.

Placing his forehead against her lifted abdomen armor, the cut across his forehead trickling blood slowly, he bared his teeth. A leash wasn't what he need but in this moment, a man looking for a burning blanket to cook out the fever, he would take what he could get. Turning his head as Ygdris spoke out to the Pinky, he felt the fever break with a fluttering of his eye. It had been some time since he had spoken or felt the touch of Sage, the pain and transaction that followed, and he recalled the clarity as he blinked. Turning back to Ygdris, he titled his head as he smiled. "Maybe not me...but a leash..." He looked backed towards Sage.

"Sage, my dear." He said with an air not unlike the tune a whip might sing, before cutting across flesh. "Why don't you come here, I want to..." He bared his teeth as Ygdris tried to wiggle her way from his grip. Why was she trying to get out of this, wasn't this the fire she was looking for? She never seemed to make up her mind. A time and a place, a time in a place, no time in a place, no time nor place. "...Show you something."

 

[Sage Bane]

Objective: Antagonize Sith Lords, fight a Rancor

Location: Forest of Ragoon
Allies: [member="Vrag"] [member="Reverance"]
Enemies: [member="Einar Shadowmane"]
2/20

"Please, pateesa," Sage said to Vrag with a smirk. "Don't let me interrupt whatever it is that you're doing here."

He cocked his head, circling them, studying their odd behavior. Or maybe it wasn't odd at all. The brawl looked more like foreplay than anything else. After all, he'd been to bed with both of them on separate occasions and both seemed to share a predilection for a more violent type of coupling.

He turned his gaze towards Reverance who, using his bedroom voice, commanded Sage to come closer. All of his instincts told him to bolt, especially at the mention of a leash, but his curiosity got the better of him. Besides, the Wrath was his superior. He wasn't exactly the type of man that one said no to. Skittishly, Sage sidled closer to the two of them, almost putting himself in grabbing range.

"And what is this thing you need to show me, My Lord?" he asked with a quirk of his brow.

What was that rustling sound? It almost sounded like a charging rancor.

 

[Krux Mullarus]

Location: The Shooting Gallery
Objective: Don't get shot
Allies: [member="Darth Azurea"]
Enemies: [member="Draco Vereen"]
7/20

The sniper is adept at telepathy, too? A force-sensitive? Heaven's sake, the Republic is desperate

Immedeatly upon Azurea's hand grasping his, Mullarus felt his heart skip a beat and his face grew warm. He blinked and tried to stay focused. They were being shot at. This was not a good time to start developing feelings of romance.

Her shouts of frustration surprised him, and her practically begging him to stop and keep the Protection Bubble up made him stop dead in his tracks just as he heard another loud crack, like a cannon going off. He turned around just in time to see a ripple spread across the surface of the bubble. A big ripple. Whatever was being fired must hurt. This was clearly no standard blaster rifle. Judging from the excessive blood on Azurea's leg, it must have been a slugthrower.

Suddenly, Mullarus got an idea. He quickly made his way behind a tree and set Azurea down against it. He could tell which direction the gunshot came from from where the ripple on Azurea's bubble, now gone because of their movement, had began. He set Azurea down on the opposite side of the tree from where he saw the last shot come from.

"I can try...but you're right. Pyrrhus was always more focused on abilities that relentlessly maim my enemies, rather than protect my allies..." He exhaled. He really had no idea how to perform the ability. For now, hopefully, the tree would provide cover until he could muster up...something.

Aha! Perfect!

Mullarus' gaze stumbled upon a group of nearby Ragoon Natives. These were still his woods, and he had convinced the Native Elder of the nearby village to assist him and help protect his claim over the woods and mountains for his home in exchange for his own protection of their homes.

Mullarus whistled them over. The small ragoon people quietly scurried over. "Listen up. There's a bad man in the trees, and he's going to shoot at you, too, if you don't help me find him." He pointed to the general area of where he was from behind the tree, "Search the trees. You know them better than I do. I have to get my friends to safety. Got it? Get your other pals nearby to help, too."

The Ragoon natives seemed reluctant, shaking their heads. Mullarus made a face of frustration and lifted a hand. He didn't want to do this, but if they left him no choice...

The middle of the trio started to choke. The other two panicked and looked between Mullarus' hand Force Gripping the small being's throat and back at their choking friend. "Or I could kill you myself...don't make me, dammit. Help me. Help us."

They nodded quickly, panicking. Mullarus released his Grip, "Go"

Within moments, the trio started to communicate with one another in their native tongue and spread the word to nearby native warriors, who would inform others, and so on. Within a few minutes, there would be about a dozen scurrying silently around the treetops, searching for anything or anyone out of place, simultaneously listening for more gunfire to pinpoint his location.

Meanwhile, Mullarus started to tear off a strip of his black robes he wore beneath his leatheris jacket and started to slowly and calmly bind them around Azurea's leg wound. He put enough pressure so that, hopefully, the bleeding wouldn't be so severe. He hated to use his own robes, but he had nothing else and had to stop the bleeding. After that was taken care of, he reassuringly rested his hand on her wrist, "I'll...find a way, Azurea. I won't let you take another shot today." Hopefully that would calm her so she wouldn't struggle as much and make herself bleed out more.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus. He didn't know how to perform the Protective Bubble, but he used whatever he observed from Azurea to try. Nothing would happen yet, but he tried to not rush it and stay focused.

Hopefully, those Natives would find that bastard sniper...

 

[Setzi Lunelle]

Objective: B, Clear out Hazards, Not get shot again or eaten
Location: The Forest
Allies: [member="Mullarus"]
Enemies: The Beast [member="Draco Vereen"]
6/20

The sniper was still out there. His latest bullet had targeted Mullarus, but the Force Protection Shield had saved them by a hair. However, now that they were moving again, they were fair game in his cross-hairs, the bubble of energy disappearing.

As the Acolyte sat her down on the far side of a tree trunk, presumably facing away from where the attacker's bullets had come from, she watched him, trying to gather her strength back so that she would be able to stand and defend herself again. And as Darth Azurea suspected Mullarus's training had consisted of very little defensive maneuvers when it came to the Force. There was no time to feel an ounce of anger towards their shared Master, [member="Darth Pyrrhus"], but she may have a word with him about that once they were reunited. Mullarus needed to be well-rounded. To be able to survive in an extended battle or in hostile territory where one could not actually see or feel the enemy would require preventative measures. She knew Pyrrhus's methods were foolproof if slaughter was your intention. But surviving? Luckily Azurea had prior training in that before she became the Togruta's companion. But the Acolyte had not.

When he ran off, Azurea grabbed the stun gun in one hand and her saber in another. When he came back, she realized he had rallied a group of natives to begin searching for the sniper. "How clever," she remarked. "This will grant us a bit of time to regroup." Once Mullarus hastily treated her leg wound, the pressure did help and she was able to fully stand. He was extremely loyal, which was a trait not lost on either Darth Azurea or his Togruta Master.

Instead of scanning the sniper's Force signature, this time Darth Azurea used Force Sight to see through the trees and brush surrounding them. While she did that, she still got the distinct feeling that they were animals in a trap. If the natives could flush the gunman out, than Azurea may have a shot at stunning him.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Objectives: Hunt
Prey: [member="Darth Azurea"] [member="Mullarus"]
5/20

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G-Bn_kD6QN4​

I was already on the move when the Natives started looking for me. There was a lot of ground for them to cover, almost a kilometer of jungle and underbrush to dig through to look for something they could not see. Well, could not see once I stayed still. I was the apex predator in this neck of the woods, and I had the power to prove it. How to set the perfect trap using these little natives for my true prey? That was the question I needed answered. Jumping to the next tree, I scanned the area. There were only a few of them and they needed time to search for a hidden, cloaked, gun man.

Quietly I stopped. The two Force Users I was after were stopped, hidden behind a tree, but I had moved forward and off to their left a good bit a little closer than half a klick now. Most of the natives would pass by without coming anywhere close, and those that did wouldn't have a clue where I was until after I fired. That is what I needed to do. Use these trees and this rifle to make the natives travel in circles until it was time to pounce. Gather all the little piggies in a clearing and pounce on them when it got ugly.

<Come out, Come out little ones.> I taunted Telepathically through the Force as I moved to the next tree and prepared to stop to fire again. They needed to come get me or wait me out, and they didn't know who I was or what I was to wait me out. I had all the time in the world to sit here waiting.

Two of them actually made it interesting. Which one would I bother suppressing when it came time to close in for the kill and which one would I simply maul? Questions, questions. Choices, choices. I had my spot picked out, a small clearing off to my left that was perfect. Now just to get them to try and be the predator, not the prey. Would they be angry if they knew I didn't even know who they were, or for that matter why I was hunting them? Perhaps I hunted because it was all I knew, the last thing that brought me real tangible joy. I shrugged, settling into position and lining up the scope of the rifle, round in the chamber.

 

[Vrag]

Objective: Tap a Schutta, also Slap a Rancor
Location: Forest of Ragoon a.k.a. Ashes-soon-to-be
Alies: [member="Sage Bane"] | [member="Reverance"]
Enemies: [member="Einar Shadowmane"]
8/20

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CWUmw2ITaFA​

A shiver ran down her spine for entirely wrong reasons as the Wrath spoke, hot breath against hot flesh. Honestly, the forest was turning into a veritable pyre, and soon enough, every square meter of the fields would be spitting fire to the darkening skies. If they didn't get out by then, they might well end up as nothing more than charred corpses amid the smoking stumps of trees they'd set ablaze. Would anyone know who they even were?

Doubtful. All are equal in death.

Though, thinking of it, they could probably crawl back out on Csilla or Brokellia, given enough time. The thought was neither comforting nor exciting, and then it wasn't at all, because more pressing matters seemed to be upon them.

How a karking Rancor had found its way into a flaming forest was anyone's guess, and certainly not the first question on Vrag's mind as she bodily shoved Reverance away, moving to the side with a push off the trunk she'd been pressed against mere breaths ago. Banking on the fact that the creature's momentum would have it crash directly into the tree as its targets dispersed, the Sith moved away with fast-paced footwork, cursing her foolish abandonement of the flamethrower to the inferno around her.

Tangling with the beast in close quarters wasn't a particularly appealing option, not with the sore mouth the last monstrosity had left in her mouth. Her body still ached with ghostly pain as she thought back to the run-in with the creature on Rakata Prime. [member="Khallesh"] had it worse than her, of course, but the entire affair was utterly too close to death for her liking.

She would not repeat the same mistakes here.

"Catch!" she yelled at the Wrath, hoping that mortal danger would help clear his mind enough that he would grab the saber she'd yanked from the claws of the Ygdris at the small of her back. Reebas would sail through the air back to its original owner, but Vrag didn't look on long enough to see if it reached its intended target, busy as she was igniting her own blade.

"Pinky," she called without looking at her fellow Hand, stance lowering with her gaze glued to the Rancor. "Like old times?"

 

[Krux Mullarus]

Location: The Shooting Gallery
Objective: Don't get shot - Don't let Azurea get shot
Allies: [member="Darth Azurea"]
Enemies: [member="Draco Vereen"]
8/20

Mullarus looked inward. His focus changed from the world around him to within, metaphorically analyzing the Protective Bubble that Azurea created herself moments ago. The shape, the color, and the ripples of the sniper's slug bouncing off of it's surface.

Even still, with all of the focus, Mullarus could not see a way to conjure up his own. He sighed. Pyrrhus had done a good job of focusing his abilities on offense and not defense. The togruta must have really wanted him to become a heartless son of a bantha who gets his kicks through genocide and destruction, too. He stood up, observing the trees. His posse of natives still searched the trees, muttering to themselves, seeming to be in doubt of the situation.

Azurea stood up, which brought some relief to Mullarus' aching heart. "You sure you're okay to stand? That wasn't a minor wound. I didn't even see an exit wound, so that slug is still in your leg. Hell, i'm surprised it didn't go through your bone." Perhaps he was too concerned. She could definitely handle herself, more so than Mullarus, most likely.

Pyrrhus.

For a split second, Mullarus remembered being shocked by the togruta during training once. Lightning to a man practically surviving off of cybernetics beneath his skin was like tossing oil into a flame to put it out. He remembered briefly losing consciousness just from a single bolt. Did Mullarus' master care? He sure didn't seem like he did. Still, Mullarus was grateful for the Sith Lord, who had gained a much bigger reputation and a lot more power in the time since he had taken the young Mullarus under his wing for personal training. He took time out of his -presumably- busy schedule to hone Mullarus into the Sith he is now. Of course, he had learned from other Sith, as well. He couldn't forget Vengeance for teaching him the basic maneuvers of Form VII. Still, a vast majority of what Mullarus knew of the Sith Code was through Pyrrhus, and while he was grateful, there was a dark section of his heart that the togruta's name was carved into long ago. Despite his gratitude, he couldn't deny his lust for vengeance. He aspired to surpass the man one day, even to slay him if he got the chance, but not with lips of deceit or cheap tricks. If Mullarus would strike down his own master, it would be in open, single combat.

But that was for the future. For now, Mullarus got his head back in the game and turned to Azurea, "Well, the natives will help. Somewhat. Got any ideas?"

That was when the sniper's voice suddenly appeared in his head. It made his skin crawl, but he remained vigilant. For Azurea and for the natives, he had to.

 

[Triss]

Objective: Hang in there
Location: Rangoon forest
Allies: None
Enemies: [member="Sage Bane"] [member="Vrag"] [member="Reverance"]
Post: 3/20

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=riOykB8uB_A​

Residing in the head of a fully-grown rancor would've made any sane man mad. The interior of its ghoulish skull was a pandemonium in its own right, driven by lust for flesh. No sense of morality, no concept of mercy; the animal only understood two basic concepts - devour or be devoured. The Witches of Dathomir had managed to domesticate bull rancors, but only after centuries of careful picking and breeding, selecting the most malleable exemplars of the species.

The Chrysalide, on the other hand, was bred for just one purpose; to gnaw through enemy ranks without much reluctance. Sith Alchemy was indeed a powerful tool, often spawning creations beyond control of those who aspired to command them. In utmost arrogance, the Sith beastmaster had created a being he would never learn to manipulate. Shadowmane beat him to it, his unforced, innate ability to befriend beasts of the wild quickly rendering the beastmaster obsolete.

Yet, wandering through the minds of fiends was not without a substantial cost. The more he shared consciousness with the rancor, the less he felt human. Bit by bit, Einar felt pieces of his humanity chip off, like paint from an ageing windowsill. He couldn't endure for long, without losing his focus and the rancor completely taking over.
The Valkyri let the animal charge from the woods and into the outing, claws grabbing through earth as it marched forward, colossal incisiors first.

Emerald orbs rolled in their sockets, turning white as Shadowmane's eyes now became that of the Dathomiri beast. Rancor's beady black eyes began to glow in viridian hues, but failed to see much in daylight. He could discern three distinct figures, one of them carrying a flaming sword of a familiar tint. Einar's eyes narrowed into tiny slits, and so did the eyes of the rancor; unmistakably, they were here to finalize what the beastmaster had initiated. The Chrysalide stomped towards the figure who was quickest to set their lightsaber ablaze, claws extending outwards in an attempt to grip its prey. Back in the woods, amongst the trees, Shadowmane convulsed in an erratic trance, his own will brawling that of the beast. He would either prevail or rot on Rangoon VI.

 

[Setzi Lunelle]

Objective: B, Clear out Hazards, Not get shot again or eaten
Location: The Forest
Allies: [member="Mullarus"]
Enemies: The Beast Draco Vereen
7/20

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w9KUdoukjM4&ab_channel=EllieGouldingVEVO​

Come out, Come out little ones.

Azurea had been taunted since she was a naive Padawan. She was used to Dun Moch from her earliest battles as part of the Jedi Order and then on the other side as a Sith Acolyte. Insults. taunts. They didn't matter. The darkness beckoned to her. It had corrupted her, and Darth Azurea welcomed it. Taunt after taunt, it wouldn't affect her. She soaked it up like oil to a flame.

"Mullarus, we both must stand," she said, her eyes flashing as yellow as bile. "My wound doesn’t matter. Don't you see?"

Azurea didn't want to die today, but she could feel the conflict in Mullarus. She needed to get the young man back into the fight. There was a reticence that bothered her, but also appealed to her. The two of them were very much alike. And he was extremely loyal to her, but was he loyal to the cause? Was he loyal to Pyrrhus? Because Darth Azurea would die for Master Pyrrhus. This was not just because of her endless training sessions with him but also her love for him. On Mindabaal, she pledged that she would die to protect the Togruta, and she never wavered from that promise.

"Are you ready to die today? For our cause?" It was her own subtle taunt. "For me, Mullarus?"

Then suddenly with no more charity left in her voice she shouted, "Leave me here! I'm a lame animal. Go now. Find the sniper, Mullarus. Do not stay with me, I will only hold you back."
Darth Azurea leaned her back against the tree trunk. She was wounded but preserving her energy in case of close range contract with the sniper and then her stun gun would do the rest.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Objectives: Hunt
Prey: [member="Darth Azurea"] [member="Mullarus"]
6/20

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CD-E-LDc384​

<As I lay me down to sleep, I pray my soul is mine to keep. And never step outside this bed... We should all be evil, now back from the dead.> Telepathically, I taunted them, the voices of small children ringing in their minds. All of them, Force Users and Natives alike. Fear was the mind killer, it could lock you up and make you do things you wouldn't logically do. Things you would slap yourself for when you calmed down, assuming you got the chance. Fear was my specialty. I thrived on it. I had turned it into a weapon so palpable in the past I had driven hardened veterans to suicide. And this poor kind hearted soul living among the Sith, well... he was like a fish in a barrel. Always afraid they wouldn't accept him, they would turn on him. His friends would be lost to him or betray him for one reason or another... he needed to grow up. Life is suffering, Death is sweet.

<Are you scared.> I sent him and only him as the voices of the children buzzed around him. He needed to know I had a lock on him. He was mine. The cross hairs sat at the tree, zoomed out enough that I could see either side of it where they were hiding. She would be unlikely to stand, much less run anywhere. There were pieces of metal in her calf, with the possibility the achilles was torn or cut from the shrapnel. He was still uninjured and needed to be dealt with harshly, along with his little buddies.

<He is here...> The voices of demon children echoing all around them. What would they do. I could feel the fear growing in the Natives. It was easier to break their will then make them do what I wanted by contorting their senses and bending their perception of reality than it was to over power their minds. Their resolve had been shaky to start with, no doubt there were those that no longer had any fight left in them.