Eclipse of Nibelungen (The Ancient Eye) PM to join us

[Mythos]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WI4LkkBBR7g
The world on the far of the galaxy known as Nibelungen awoke this standard galactic day as many others, a place of learning of the jedi order. A place secluded from the galaxy and so far hidden from many of it's horrors. They did not know what was about to befall them. Ambition and darkness fueled the and tainted hearts yet the hunger for more was always won out in the end. One eye looked over the galaxy with a ravenous hunger, the power of the darkside of the force urging it forward to seek and devour a place ripe for consumption. So it was that Nibelungen was chosen, not by chance but by its remote and secluded access in the galaxy and the fresh fruit of it's people and resources. It was a place strong in the force and plentiful in jedi of their own order who trained and learned in the peaceful ways of the force.

Five sisters of Nibelungen: five words each different but united in their system by a common government of shared goals and ideals. Ideals simple, the light and the force doing what is commonly refereed to as good and just like any other civilized system. With their isolation, with their pacifism and relative bliss of the galaxy around them they never did prepare a military force that would raise the eyebrow of a warlord or a conqueror. This is also why the Ancient Eye of Mythos set itself upon the five sisters this day. With the backing of Jaeger Solutions, Access to the Flotilla of Mon Calamari Shipyards and the power of several allies in war Mythos set it's sights on the defenseless and unsuspecting world.

Mythos stood on the bridge of the only Star Destroyer in the armada, an ancient outdated ship from the Akhypt world. It was high in firepower but it lacked everything else. the entire army was composed of droids from jaeger. He wore his normal suit of armor, an imperial era Sith Lord suit of black and silver with his lightsaber at the belt and pistol at the ready. By his side was his trust companion Groom, flanking his ship was the Assassin corvette flown by his servant and around him the armada granted to him by his allies in high places, resources and worlds he had harvested for soldiers and hired guns.

In this armada his favorite ships were six cathedral ships upgraded to serve in modern combat, they needed a lot of tuning but they would do for this invasion. the lights of hyperspace washed over the transparisteel visor of his capital ship then suddenly the five sisters greeted him with open arms... and blaster fire. He smiled. "Not so off guard as You seemed now... were you?"

Instantly the Envoy of the End, as was called the star destroyer he rode on, began returning fire as the Anubian officers he had flanking him and all around him rushed to battle positions. The orbit was indeed well advised by they were sorely outmatched not by the class of ships, but by the sheer number of warships Mythos had summoned. With every passing second more and more ships poured out of the darkness of space and crashed into the orbit of the five sisters. there was a plan in motion, One Lord and Marshal per sister... One Trandoshan warlord to make the Score Keeper proud.

"Prepare to be conquered... "​

 

[Causstik Rahn]

[SIZE=11pt]Causstik Rahn stared out the bridge of the Irrlicht. It was a small vessel with no small amount of tricks up its sleeve. He was patiently awaiting the rest of his fleet to drop out of hyperspace and for the battle to begin. Suddenly five inkling stars appeared in the void of space as the same amount of ships materialized. The Firestorm, Helion, Gunbuster, and Invictus immediately began to enter a diamond shape formation. The Scorekeeper took up position in the center, acting as point defense in the event of fighter attack screens.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Shortly after the ships entered position they began opening fire with their long range guns, over two hundred laser cannons, and over one hundred ion guns opened fire. The enemy fleet sought to remedy this by closing range with Causstik’s fleet and engaging where they might have the advantage. But, they would not make it very far. Causstik received a transmission from his second in command and only nodded. It was time. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The Irrlicht dropped out of hyperspace behind one of Nibelungen’s many moons, so as to mask its warp signature. Then used its gravitational pull to slingshot itself around and propel itself right into the middle of the enemy fleet. But, still it remained undetected due to its extensive suite of stealth systems. Causstik eyed the holographic display table that portrayed a map of the battlefield and selected the enemy's flagship. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“We’ll launch there,” He said pointing to the ship.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]His first mate bowed and the irrlicht moved into position. Soon after the Irrlicht launched all of its drop pods into the enemy flagship. The Trandoshans flooded the ship and took over the bridge, immediately using its weapons to fire onto its comrades. The Irrlicht fired its trickster decoy and flew off into relative safety after it had dropped its payload of pirate borders...[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt][member="Mythos"][/SIZE]

 

[Riamah]

Aboard the Alnamar, the single sith lord waited for the word to come out of hyperspace. When the fleet arrived at Nibelungen, that was given to her and Ra brought her ship out with them. It wasn't a large ship and held three squadrons of fighters if needed. Their arrival was almost unexpected or so they thought, instead when they emerged a fleet was waiting for them.

She ordered the fighters out to intercept any that came at them and allowed them their freedom to command themselves. They knew what their orders were and she expected them to be followed. Not wanting to endanger people in this mission, she had with her darktroopers she had produced on her own. A facility nobody but her remembered anymore outside of the people that worked and lived there. Outside of them only Seras and Mythos knew of its secret location.

The sounds of engagement reached her ears through the various comms, Ra couldn't help but show a small smile. Unconventional for a sith, once in a while it felt good to be able extend her hand and conquer. To feel the rise of stress at a battle and coordinate attacks. That thrill of victory and bitter taste of defeat wrapped together. A sense of euphoria she had rarely felt could come from this day.

Battle had just begun in taking this world and making it a home for them.

[member="Causstik Rahn"] [member="Mythos"]

 

[Nomkneer]

Location: Heavy star cruiser
Post:1


Nomkneer had set out a mission to aid in the attack of the five sisters. He sat in the command center of the ship observing the planet as he got closer, ships came from the terraformed moon and the defense systems kicked in. His destination was the grand council and he chose the moon he would invade at random. As he got close Laying orders across all intercoms he portrayed an attitude that inspired fear.

"i need main cannons ready for attack! we have company!!"

Lasers were shot out the cannons and the sky looked like a meteor shower on the darkest night. dogfighters, turrets and other weapons shot at the star destroyer but the shields defenses were too great. ships and bases blew up in light as our blasters eliminated everything on sight. Piercing through the defenses Nomkneers ship was finally starting to see the landscape up close.

Scan the planet and look for the senate, the grand council!!"

Nothing was more important than locating the grandmaster belonging to the planet. He grabbed a ship and went down giving the droids to take care of the star destroyer and cover Nomkneer at all times while he landed near the senate. Anubian soldiers awaited below as he landed and the kaleesh came down launching a strike with his two light'sabers in an x. A wave of darkness materialized from him when he touched the ground slicing in half the surrounding soldiers. The wrath of the sith will tremble the land in fear and chaos, cannons shot from the sky opening a path for Nomkneer while cargo ships brought droids down to aid in battle.

"If you leave anyone alive i will destroy you myself!"

In reality the planet looked unique with eccentric sculptures with a strange forms of art. Everything had some touch of gold to the walkways and buildings. everything was being lifted from the ground or destroyed by the cruisers cannon. Info given to Nomkneer said there were chambers under the grand council for protection and the kaleesh was focused on locating it. Going up the stairs to the gate an small division of soldiers waited him, droids were shooting from behind covering the kaleesh as he launched his attack using the force to push back their shots to them. A pair of red eyes were all you could see from his black cloak as he ran forward, some of the anubians were killed from both their returned shots and the droids gunfire. With one jump he landed in the middle of the troop and with a spiraling slash he made distance as he slayed them.

"I missed these days of destruction"

[member="Mythos"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

Nibelungen System, Near the Irrlicht

[member="Causstik Rahn"]'s new pirate vessel couldn't rival the glory of the Eldricht that Abyss once commanded into battle, but it was still a tool the husk admired more then a little. Like the ancient ship he once had commanded with the Trandoshan warlord at his side had been a weapon of trickery and deception, the Irrlicht was not a warship in the way most people imagined one, but considerably more powerful in the right hands. On the mark of the vessel releasing both its boarding party and its decoy towards the enemy fleet, a assortment of ships suddenly jumped out of hyperspace.

Unlike the others around them, they were no large size vessels created for war, but a chaotic collection of freighters, small frigates and uglys thrown together, a swarm of unhinged madness and destruction. Unseen within the bulk was a small stealth vessel, a Phasma class, that drifted between the other ships entirely invisible. On board was the first wave of the Mindeater's personal forces, and the husk in his full wretched glory. Many of his ship would not make it to the surface intact, but every burning wreck crashing into the surface of the world below was just another weapon in his deranged arsenal.

Despite the chaotic nature of what amounted to a fleet in Abyss' eyes, there was a system behind it all. The first line consisted of the worst, most makeshift ships the galaxy had to offer, and they were filled and piloted by worthless, brainwashed slaves recruited from Abyss' personal cult, that was called the Children of Korriban in an ironic twist of sith philosophy. The line behind them was composes of vessels in only marginally better shape, carrying the soldiers of his personal militia. The men and women of the Tainted Legion were useful, but ultimately replaceable.

The last lines, made up of actual ships, belonged to Abyss' elite forces. The legions of the Ghostmakers, the Lab Rats and the Inner Eye, as well as his arcane backup in form of the Warlocks of Malachor and the Necromancers of Katarr. Even if the first lines would be fully shredded by enemy fire, everyone that was important to his way of conquest would be able to hide behind the chaos and destruction.

Fire by the enemy ships had already shattered the first freighters, some of the wrecks scatting everywhere to further shroud their path, while others began their destructive descend towards the surface. In the guise of his methodical chaos the small stealth ship passed by the actual forces of Abyss, bringing the ship safely through the atmosphere. Still hanging far above the actual ground of the world, the ship suddenly flickered into sight, as the airlock opened to release its deadly payload.

From high in the air metal rained down. Eight Ghostmakers, fully shrouded in their heavy cybernetic armor, and between them a hollow creature that was nothing more than an empty armor held together by eldricht alchemy. The empire had stolen his world, and Darth Abyss, Prophet of Malachor and Katarr, would take a new one for his reign of anarchy. All that would have the insolence to resist, would learn what it meant to be devoured by the broken might of Mindeater. Then the Black Flag would once more be raised upon a dead world of his own design.

[member="Lord Furiel"] @Ra'a'mah [member="Mythos"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​EDEMAR - Home of Jedi Autocracy

​Fire.

​Fear.

​Freedom.

​Times Up.

​The sky was shades of purple, it's perfect calmness an incandescent exhibition of serenity. Mirrored in the deep silent lakes that gushed with life, Caleden Erson; Grand Master of the Jedi order of The Five Sisters, was breathless; colourless, empty.

​His cheeks were a sullen amber, contrasting to his thick Bothan fur. His appearance was all too similar to that of a Silver back Guerrilla, thick with muscle and a frame that spoke of a tested body, aged emerald eyes that spoke of a tested mind. Yet his frame shuddered, his gallant gem encrusted armour heaving in the night. His eyes remained intrinsically locked on the oak framed metal doors of the Jedi Temple, their ancient fortress that had stood untouched; they had stood untouched for so very long. The Temple was silent, as were those who resided within; hundreds of Jedi. Many of which he had trained himself.

​No. I will not let them fall.

​His determination carried him leaps and bounds across the mountain ranges of the small planet, reaching the beginning of the steps to the Temple itself. He ​felt ​it. A heat at his back, a blazing orange violated the night sky; screaming of a raging heat and invoking the greatest fears of his rapidly beating heart. Yet, hope remained. Determination filled his expression, his frown growing, razor sharp teeth grinding against his gums as he broke into sprint, panting as he carried himself towards the entrance. Only a little further, the sentries came into view.

​Grand-Master! The defences have been activated.

​It will not, be enough... Rally the sentries and Master in the courtyard, the Knights must see to the women and children!

​The sky broke, as a massive Drop-Pod raptured the air; a monster hidden under layers of thick Beskar. The massive pod was caught in flame, it's outer redundant layers lost in scraps as it broke into inferno; a cascade of flame shuddering in the sky behind it as it collapsed into the Jedi temple. The Temple was built like a fortress, and even then it's anti-air defences were decrepit, and incapable of stopping the vessel. Caleden had covered his features with his forearm, erecting a shielded barrier before himself as the pod had collided with and destroyed the primary AA Gun. Caleden reached for his staff, taking the golden hilt from his belt and rushing for the doorway that now stood with fire creeping on its frame. His eyes stopped, observing the two fallen sentries. He had known one, Selene. He felt a tinge of grief, but none so great as to outweigh the fear of losing all. He burst through the doorway, seeing that many of his brethren stood vigilant; they must have felt the disturbance in equal measure. His features softened as he passed the black Pod. He saw his past apprentice, a Knight of the Autocratic Order; Jafal Corriden. He rested his hand on his plated shoulder. His features softening further into a bitter content.

​The crashed Pod had landed half the mass of its original shape, still retaining much of its form. Steam gushed from small gaps in its viewport, a pale white covering its contents, a dissipating condensation revealing a shadowed form. The pods door shot forward, landing with a heavy clunk as The Matador revealed a hunched form. Crimson horns peering out of the dark, metal fingers lingering on the frame for a moment as he saw many ahead. He slowly exited the pod, one foot after the other. His hidden face moving from side to side, observing the many Sentries, Knights, Masters, Padawans and the Grand Master himself.

Caleden stepped forward, finally. The Sith. He stretched out his feelings, he had felt anger and rage. Yet, before him he felt a shuddering paleness. A emptiness that spoke of nothing, no joy. No hate. A crimson collection of power, mistakenly cased within a humanoid form. His left arm reached back into the shadowy confines of the hug pod, collecting a massive blade in his hand. Hanging loosely from his hand, the massive metal blade appeared follow, a strange design. Caleden took a formal stance, extending his golden staff in both hands. Each end igniting into a vibrant purple.

​Vapaad. It would not serve him here. Even still, the purple glow etched on the edges of the reflective crimson skin of The Matador's armour, the fire lingered on the edges of the wooden walls, ancient red tapestries engulfed by alien yellows and orange. The flames seeing to beckon forth to him, the Matador. The flames revelling in his presence. Their flame absorbed in his colossal strength. Oribuir ignited. A vicious orange blade sizzling within the confines of metal.

The blades igniting was complimented by the ignition of a dozen others in the room, the Jedi stood at the ready. Caleden grimaced, readying himself. The Matador drew on the black pool etched in his heart, the force. He lifted Oribuir in one hand, striking forth.






​

 

[Seras Rose]

Previously, Elsewhere​

Seras had been retraining her skills with the blade, alone just outside of her ship. After her long time away from it, she was surprised by how capable she still was. The loss of her left eye had not had as much of an impact as she expected it might, not at least in single one on one combat. When she would enter a fighting arena the young woman was either capable of keeping the opponent in viww of her right eye, or she saw enough of their body to know where a attack was coming form. Though against a opponent using illusions, that might provide a opening for them. While Seras was contemplating this, she had received a call on her ship's communications. Dropping that line of thought along with her notes on the matter, she walked to the comm room and saw who it was. Surprise framed the young woman's face as she saw it came from Mythos. The call itself was not abnormal, they both stayed in contact with the other. What was unusual was the feeling she had about this one. Something had changed. And when she accepted the call and she was called for, she knew something had indeed changed. There was to be a War, a invasion. And Seras was invited.

From anyone else, she would have ignored it. But not form this person. When Mythos finished speaking, her only question was 'where'. His reply of 'by my side' was a bit tongue and cheek, but she got the co-ordinates and departed for them immediantely. Carrying only a vibro-sword and heavy blaster pistol, she arrived on the Envoy of The End moments before it's departure into hyperspace. She would have arrived sooner, but there are limits to what a person can manage with a slow hyperdrive. Heading up from the hangar, she would arrive at the Command Deck where Mythos commanded from just as they dropped out of hyperspace, and the battle began.

Command Deck, Current Time​

It was a busy place, but that was not unusual for the command deck of a ship when it went into battle. A flurry of emotions, shouts and bodies greeted her as she forced and worked her way through the vessel's crew members to Mythos. Standing just a bit behind him and to his right, Seras looked out over the slowly ensuing carnage. Turbolasers hammered away on both sides, sound not even audible inside the command deck. It was surreal in a way, hearing all this activity inside and seeing the destruction in space, but hearing nothing. "I arrived in perfect time for the Entrance i see." Seras remarked with a impressed tone as she saw the planet and the moons which they would invade return the attack in spades. Mythos had promised a hard battle and going by the looks of it, this was exactly what they were going to be in for. A true battle to refine and test her skills would be a welcome change the young woman thought as she silently watched the battle unfold, a fire to join it lurking deep within her gray eye as they slowly neared the planet.

[member="Ra'a'mah"] [member="Mythos"]

 

[Nomkneer]

Objective: invade and destroy
Location: Nibelungen sister
Post: 2

Between all the attacks from the enemy Nomkneer had rushed through running up the stairs hacking and slashing his way in and the destroyer obliterating the first half the stairs as he and his troops went up, while more were being deployed on the remainder of the stairs. It was the only passage to the council and inside he stumbled against jedi knights and guards ready for battle. Droids were being rapelled into the building through the balcony and other small entrances, the senate was covered in Nomkneers troops and were clearing the other areas. The jedi came in rushing with a flurry of attacks and Nomkneer used his dual-style Niman to block one by one each arm moved as it had its own conscious deflecting left and right. The droids behind him constantly giving backup fire along the way. One horizontal strike he hacked a few and blocked a t'saber heading towards him looking his enemy in the eye and desintegrating it with his deadly sight.

"we need to push forward! I will handle the jedi!!"

The hallway was being cleared out by blaster shots as Nomkneer kept on the offensive. Materializing the darkness in the form of spikes from under his feet as he parried attacks from the remaining the jedi in the hallway. Pushing through it seemed like the amount of guards were endless coming from deep inside and Nomkneer had an idea as to where they were coming from. The kaleesh leaped forward and pierced both jedi with his t'sabers stepping on their bodies, breathing the last breaths he focused his telekinesis on the face of one and ripped it off leaving only but flesh and torn tissue visible to the eye.

"Where is the entrance to the hidden chambers underground!"

Talking to the second jedi as he slowly died, his face was filled with fear and desperation as he knew there was only minutes till his death. denying all knowledge of the information he was given one last chance to speak.

"I will make your death as painful as his now tell me!!"

The young man, jedi knight was conquered by the thought of being tortured before death spoke the whereabouts.

"In the back there is a tunnel with a gate made of beskar and a high tech eye recognition system, but i dont have access!!"

With his usefulness fading away one stab in the heart and he died as a wimp but the kaleesh kept his promise. Making their way through, bodies and droids were left as aftermath of war.

[member="Mythos"] @Ra'a'mah

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Helre - Capital City

Reality was a lie, the world that people inhabited nothing more than a creation of others, born from the influence of the strong. Shadows coiled beneath the war of Light and Dark, sheltering within the comfort of the Dark and preying upon the Light. Nibelungen would soon feel the wrath of the Shadows, experience pain and suffering as the Light was struck. Unseen, Unheard and Unnoticed, reality would be bent and manipulated that day by one who lived that rule and illusion, who knew strength.

Pain was interwoven with the threads of reality, it was ever present, stirring and twisting in its vile glory, thick and heady enough that its seemed to cling to the tongues of the populous of Helre's Capital City along side the sickening taste of smoke and ash. Death and torment had come to the Five Sisters of Nibelungen and Helre had not been spared the torment being inflicted upon the bodies of its sisters. While above her head a war of metal and plasma was waged within the silent void of space, an impersonal war fought with commands and orders instead of sweat and blood, an entirely different war was being fought upon her body. Fire and smoke served as the backdrop of the play, highlighting the suffering of her people as the flames sung their deadly song, satiating their hungers with the structures that had once held life but now only held the desperate war to survive. Babes cried, un-comforted by their mothers as fathers, brothers, sisters and children scrambled to live, ash covered fingers clawing at the desperate hopes that served as the only fuel for their efforts. But, no mercy would be granted as the heavy rain of artillery hammered down atop their heads. This was the nature of chaos, of war and conflict, the harsh truths that the populous of the galaxy were coddled and hidden away from: fate was what the strong declared it to be and if you were not strong, you were forfeit.

Unnoticed and unseen, a crouching body was born amidst flame and smoke for it came from nothingness; existing between one moment and the next, stepping forth from the Gates of Hell. Raising itself from its prone position, the form straightened out into a humanoid shape, tall in stature, as it within the fires, the very same fires that fought to reach forward to consume this new form. However, no lick of fire would brush against it, the efforts being forcibly stopped centimeters from the tattered cloak that hung from the body, almost as if the natural force of nature was afeared of the being that had emerged before it.

As the head turned from side to side, taking in the view of chaos and carnage, a low, rumbling chuckle joined the cacophony of screams, sobs, shouts and ever growing roar of fire. From within the shadows of the face, a single, unblinking amber eye slowly opened as the harsh sounds of dark amusement came to an end.

Seconds later, a second figure seemed to be birthed by the smoke and ash, a small form of wings and a gleaming beak bursting into sudden existence as it spiraled above the humanoid figure for a short while, piercing and unnatural shrieks tumbling forth and echoing off of the disaster ridden surroundings, before settling onto their shoulders. Unblinking, crimson eyes that seemed to ooze with a red mist peered at the figure, wings flaring and settling periodically. Slowly, a hand that reflected the dancing joy of the flames was raised to stroke at the ember infused feathers of the unnatural creature, soothing and stilling the creature's actions. A moment of surreal stillness settled around the pair, contrasting sharply with the escalating chaos that surrounded them, before it was shattered with a single, whispered word.

"Hunt."

Coarse from a lack of use, gravelly and growled in a simply feral and primal manner, the voice none-the-less held a tone of commanded strength and focus. As such, obedience was soon to follow and, with a further piercing shriek, the raven surged forwards in a flurry of feathers and spread wings, diving into the clouds of smoke and disappearing from view.

With a sudden snap of a wrist, one of the feathers that had fallen free of the bird was plucked out of the air and brought before the figure's face. For a few moment, they stood there, staring at the embers that dances along the fine, black strands of the feather, observing as it slowly collapsed into dust until nothing remained, but, then, they moved. Surging forwards in a manner similar to the raven only seconds before, the figure dove towards the fires before them, collapsing into smoke part way through their leap; smoke which then pierced its way through the air, heading towards where the flames were strongest.

Central to the chaos, where the suffering had carved a sea of searing torment upon the body of Helre, were the looming towers that had held the power of the planet: the Jedi. Foolish in the preaching, they had their fangs and claws dulled and so were unprepared for the waves of chaos that broke upon their backs. Their homes were melted, twisted carcasses of metal, a fitting symbol of the end of an era. An air of pain and despair loomed above them, as the sensation of death after death battered the minds of the Jedi, leaving them feeling helpless in its wake as they were forced to acknowledge that their Oaths, the promises they had made to the people of Helre, had been broken asunder, forced to acknowledge that there was nothing they could do in the face of the assault. Even as they tried to push forwards, gathering their forces to meet the heavy rain of drop-pods that expelled heavily armoured soldiers under the employ of Darth Mythos, their efforts were stunted and weakened by their distraction.

Therefore, they could be forgiven, perhaps, for their lack of focus as a column of smoke settled within the ruins of the once majestic towers, solidifying and growing into the form of a man once more. Striding forwards even before the final remnants of smoke of become the cloak that hung around him, Darth Lykos moved on silent feet as he prowled deeper into the buildings. His presence within the Nibelungen System was unknown to both the people of the Five Sisters and the invading forces, for he was naught but a Shadow upon the tapestry of the galaxy, an unnoticed figure that prowled through the dark.

He was the Shadow, the Unseen and the Wolf as well as Assassin and Conquest alike and he had come to pursue his Prey beneath the guise of an Eclipse. He was the one who Saw the strands of Reality, perceived it for what it truly was, who moved without sight and live, fused, with the Darkness of the Force through the Arcane. He was the shiver along a spine and he would feast this day on pain and death, chaos and suffering.

 

[Skorvek]

After all these years of being quiet and waiting after centuries spent in the Netherworld the beast he had freed along with himself had finally picked his mark, This world was the first of many that will join us in the end and those that choose to stand in the way will simply be killed and added to the army of the dead after all that is what he is here for. 5 sisters await them and he had plan to turn one of them into his grand world of the dead where the souls shall feed him and his legions for eternity in his service, When he landed on one of the sisters that his brothers where not already attacking with his cathedral ship there was nothing but silence for a moment as those who where outside gathered in fear with what weapons they could find mixed soldiers and Jedi and anyone who can hold a weapon awaited outside wondering what the next move was going to be.

The hissing sound of steam being released as various ramps opened the sound of a storm collecting above was heard and seen as lightning started to surge and grow stronger and stronger and without any warning multiple bolts of lightning struck the awaiting force piercing and turning those hit to a crispy corpse and snaked around like a living thing before it left the welcoming force dead on the ground smoke still emanating off the corpses.After that the soldiers inside the ship began to pour out as he chanted something and the corpses that where once dead and unmoving one by one came back to life as his thralls, The perfect soldiers no question in loyalty and never tire, shall never fall and shall never stop until there penance has been met. He walked out in his armor and carried a long curved almost like a sickle but bigger and less curved sword as he and his soldiers and undead marched forth to exterminate all who stand in his way, He had a planet to rule and he shall have it one way or another.


[member="Mythos"] [member="Darth Abyss"] [member="Darth Lykos"] [member="The Matador"]

 

[Cellebiat]

https://youtu.be/xwhBRJStz7w​

Cellebiat sat in the Pizza delivery ship. It wasn't actually equipped for space travel, but Cellebiat had been keeping it together with the force. He was in a bad mood. The causation was, of course his inability to find this awesome necromancer that he was tracking until now. It was a long, terrible journey. There was lots of blood and killing, and he didn't like not using his prey. Oh, another thing that annoyed him was the pilot of the stolen pizza ship. He was whimpering for the 18th time today. "Shut up! Cellebiat has a headache!" Cellebiat cruelly yelled at the young man of maybe 20. The ship was approaching the planet very fast. The ship breached the atmosphere, sending The young man, who was bound into the front of the ship with a large crack. Cellebiat examined the battle on the ground. "This will be fun for Cellebiat." Cellebiat pulled out and ignited his lightsaber. He cut a hole in the roof, causing air to rush in. He jumped out of the manhole and softened his landing on the ground as the Pizza ship crashed into a wary group of fighters, killing them and the pizza delivery boy.

Cellebiat kept in the shadows, killing individuals occasionally, usually just hiding. Cellebiat cornered what looked like a soldier on the side of the person he was looking for. He fought him briefly and easily overpowered him. "Your master is Mythos, correct?" The soldier shook his head in affirmation. "Take Cellebiat to him." He kept the soldier alive on their trip, which was about a 30 minute walk, which eventually led Cellebiat to a Blond, handsome looking man. "Hello, Mythos, I am Cellebiat, and I am looking to join your sect of Necromancy."

[member="Mythos"]

 

[Lief]

Onboard The Envoy of the End
Post: 1
Alongside: [member='Mythos']

Silence had become a natural state for Maelasi in the months following Ankhypt, since she fell into the sand and rose before a man-turned-God. The change which had come over her then had only continued to press and increase its presence, that parasitic presence leaching upon her very life essence, fighting for a control she refused to grant it.

Stood there as she was, within the bridge, her sulfuric gaze lingered upon her chosen deity, hands clasped at her back, posture surprisingly straight despite the almost sickly appearance she had taken on as of late. As though the Force itself was keeping her alive, and little more. The runes which lined her skin burned in his presence, the line which had been drawn down her face the day she pledged herself to him unbearable though the true binds were unseen.

There proved to be little need for words from her, as she watched him, and through her peripheral the fire fight that was beginning to take place beyond the viewing port. Typhojem had been replaced this day by an older Tuk'ata, one she had overheard being referred to as Groom on numerous occasions, and by her side a young girl crouched with awe in her eyes, yet a presence that screamed feral.

Child of the God.

She seemed to innately despise the ship, this little one with crazy hair and wild eyes, and only by Mythos' coaxing had she joined them on this venture. Maelasi wondered if she were not a little young to be thrust into war, but something in the way the child held herself made her bite her tongue rather than speak out. The way her muscles seemed poised to pounce at any moment.

Of course... Maelasi had seen much of this child in the past few months, seen what she was capable of doing. Her childish appearance was close to a ruse, though innocence lingered all the same. It was a strange amalgamation, something she never expected she would ever seen in this life or the next. On the child's shoulder a bird perched, which seemed to watch Maelasi with shrewd wisdom.

Quite the band of misfits, this God had gathered.

When the firefight had started, the child had cowered back, and quite out of character Mae reached down and took her hand. It wasn't as comforting as it ought to have been, but enough to let her know that she wasn't alone out here in the throws of war.

"Deus does not need such distractions..." she whispered to herself, under her breath, the child ought to have been left behind. But she was not here to question a God... No, if he could keep his focus on the battles to come, then that was all that mattered, she only hoped the child did not prove a burden.

 

[Bestat]

The ship was cold it was always cold. The warmth of the desert had not followed them on this journey into the dark wilds of space. This place that [member="Mythos"] spoke of sounded much like the heathens of old. They were to bring an order to this place.

She walked softly through the halls of the great ship it's belly full of the flyers that would seek out the usurpers and unworthy from among the populace of these new worlds. A simple shiver to her form and she shifted to a new form one that would raise few questions. A form that with a single look she would stop someone in their very steps.

Priestess of a God, Warrior, and now Conqueror.

It had taken her time to learn these new ways and to learn that what Mythos called upon was only slightly different than her ability to use the flow of life on Ankhypt. She did not like these weapons of energy they were crude weapons meant to leave nothing. If they killed it left no labor, no slaves, no armies only dead bodies.

She would use her spells to bend the will of those they faced. They would kneel and do her bidding as she....persuaded them. Amused by her own thoughts of war she entered the command center of the ship. Here she could listen to all that was prepared to happen, and where she would be needed.

 

[Neb-ka of Myth]

Hours Before Present: Private Chambers Aboard Destroyer​

“Sew-nisew, seneb ramma.”​

A deep voice, raspy with age, projected out with spine shaking force within the small metallic room. The sound waves met with very few particles of light within their short distance of travel. The room, the cage, of Neb-ka of Myth’s private chambers aboard the flagship vessel was sparsely illuminated with a patchwork of candles. Any suite could’ve been his, and yet, he’d chosen a small, private’s chamber on the interior of the ship, without even a trifling porthole to let in starlight.

Still flames became disturbed and were made to dance as he passed. The eight foot five Anubian cast a multitude of shadows against the cold dim walls as he slowly spiralled inwards around the unlucky sacrifice kneeling at the centre of his arcing path.

“Ka-sat.”​

One particularly bright candle briefly parted the veil of darkness as its glow ran along a lengthy, thin, and bare torso covered in black skin where fur once grew half a millennium ago. Only a momentary glimpse, before the Prophet melted into shadow once more. Now, the almost leathery, tough hide lay unnaturally naked for an Anubian, the price for unnatural years. The golden ritual cords half berried into his flesh glowed a subtle yellow as they reflected the candlelight.

The centuries never pass without being paid their toll for continued life and the dark side did not grant its power without sacrifice. Even borrowed time could not be stolen, and the dark river of energy with which he drew his power and which nourished his physical form and fought back the crush of death, had long ago charred his skin with its searing vitalities. Slowly singeing his once mat black coat to ash.

Now standing only inches from the human male trembling at his feet, he reached a large black hand through the darkness. Long, clawed fingers gripped onto the slave’s skull, sliding through his course hair.

Minutes Before Present: Hangar Bay​

One hundred force-sensitive Anubian warrior priests, all standing at least eight feet tall and perfectly still, were organized into rows and columns of ten within one of the destroyer’s half-empty hangar bays. All clad in specialized Anubian armor, forged with alchemy and imbued with the dark side of the force and blessed by the God-King himself. Their bodies, not just the armor adorning them, were hardened like durasteel, brisling with muscles even now coiled, ready to strike.

Their young, malleable psyches had been moulded into form by the priesthood at an early age. Once their faith and obedience were hardened, then with constant gruelling training, the artesian instructors of the cult of Mythos refined their minds like sculptors until they had the cunning and skill of perfect warriors. Even then, it was only the beginning of the trials. Most did not make it as far as this, but even fewer still came out the other side having proven themselves worthy of the name, Zealots of Neb-ka.

Neb-ka of Myth, Prophet of the Eye, faced his Zealots from a few feet in front of the first row. A simple command boomed forth, and in perfect unison, two Cathar servants, one male and one female, approached bearing various segments of his armor. They would dress him while he stood and stared out at the Zealots with eyes of blood red. And they would stare back through cold, expressionless helmets.

The destroyer shook with the first salvos of enemy fire impacting the shields. The Zealots barely moved. No inspirational speech or passionate show of any kind was needed before battle. Certainly not today. The Zealots internalized a long time ago what they were fighting for and how to succeed.

Today would be a glorious start to the holy war to come, many would die, some Zealots would surely fall, but like so many other things, Neb-ka had already seen their victory. Picked it out of the infinite eternities. The slipstream of time had spoken to him and it had shown him their inevitable victory.

After over seven hundred years of waiting, today was the beginning of the fulfilment of the prophecy. The smallest hint of a smile cracked his lips.

Hours Before Present: Private Chambers Aboard Destroyer​

True power always required sacrifice and although his own body could not entirely escape the trade that the force demanded, physically, he remained strong and quick after seven hundred and fifty years, even if he wasn’t as imposing as he once was. But his mind, that was even more important. His knowledge grew as the seasons turned to years, decades passed, centuries flowed together, and empires were born and collapsed into ruin.

His mind had never been sharper.

The secret, was to trade as little of his own vitality and sanity away to the force for that sacred transaction of life, knowledge, and power, as was possible. Easier said than done. But Neb-ka, long ago, discovered a way.

He sensed the man’s anxiety in the tips of his fingers. Could feel the man’s heart pulsing through the force. His fear as it flowed out from him to be captured by the Prophet of the Eye. Nearly every life-force emanating from the sacrifice would swirl and fall into the void Neb-ka opened within himself. A void in the force. A small wound that allowed him to absorb the literal life-essence of this man, and the thousands who came before him. It was the trump-card in the trade, to get all those years. He took more than he was given, so many more futures fell at his hands than the hundreds of years which he gained from their sacrifice. It was an unbalanced windfall for the force, and Neb-ka was all too happy to make the trade.

“Gypt sia.”​

​

The man’s eyes exploded in a mess of blood and viscera as the Anubian’s pointer finger dug deep into his right eye, the middle finger slipping sloppily into the left with both claws puncturing the frontal cortex. The skull cracked under the pressure of his grip. Rivulets of blood streamed out from eye sockets, ears, nose, and mouth, but it wasn’t the blood he was hungry for. The man’s last gasps of life, like a star going supernova, were more powerful for the Prophet’s purposes than the life-force energy of an entire lifetime. It was all quickly devoured into that wound in the force. He used the severing of one life’s connection to the force, to repair his own, to strengthen the rope that stopped his own fall into death.

Present​

Neb-ka entered the destroyer’s bridge once his armor had been fully assembled onto his body and with surprising quiet, the tall, imposing Prophet stood behind the women and the God-King himself as they watched the battle unfold ahead.

“We are prepared to bring forth the Prophecy and judge these infidels to the last. I have foreseen our victory in the infinite eternities, my Pharaoh. There is nothing that can stop our victory!”​

​

His voice boomed, made even more unsettling with the addition of a metallic echo from speaking through his helmet. Sometimes he still couldn’t quite believe that he was speaking to the Chosen One himself, the God-Made-Flesh, the Reincarnation of the Pharaoh of Prophecy.

The Man​

​

The Myth​

​

The Legend​

​

And now, the reality​

​

“It is written.” ​

​

| [member="Bestat"] | [member="Maelasi Eramar"] | [member="Cellebiat"] | [member="Skorvek"] | [member="Darth Lykos"] | [member="Lord Furiel"] | [member="Seras Rose"] | [member="The Matador"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | @Ra'a'mah | [member="Causstik Rahn"] | [member="Mythos"] | [member="Boo Chiyo"] | [member="Amaunet Asira"] |​

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Minuets Before Present: Iridonia - Cave System

Steady, near silent breaths were the sole thing to crack the fragile silence, its mirror-like surface fracturing and splintering and, yet, not shattering. Not yet, at least. Not when the only thing pressing against it were breathy exhales that barely stirred the dust and sand that drifted within the air. And so, the silent mirror pressed back against the noise, paradoxically making it seem all the more louder as the fragile surface repelled the fog that crawled against it. Precious and just as fragile was the pressing darkness that accompanied its sister, no light stirring from the slumber laid upon it by the shadows, a void of nothingness. Combined, the sisters of silence and darkness created an abyss where naught existed, nothing but the ever-steady, ever-present breathing that belonged to no source so long as the dark remained. For the one breathing, the iciness of their surrounding did not bother them, the cold child that curled around their bones and seeped through their flesh paling in contrast to the spidering cracks that were their breathing. The Silent Dark was not cruel to be cruel nor was it something to fear, instead, it was the thing that held fear within a cradling embrace, rage and pain obscured within its depths, leaving behind a patient veil of ice.

Reality was what it was perceived and, in that moment, it was a quite, cool and patient place, a realm in which rage and passion was obscured and hidden away until the moment that the ice needed to melt and give way to the sputtering life of flame - flame that would dance only as long as the shadows permitted it to be fitting. In that moment, reality was a mirror, fractured but whole, standing strong amidst the chaos that gently broke the orderly silence. The breathing continued, a focus of the new reality, a point that prevented the mirror from being smooth and unblemished, fake and unnatural; a true reflection of life. For, that was what this new reality of the being was: a reflection of true life. For a single moment, the breathing hitched, pausing within a non-existent throat, before smoothing out as an eye that was not an eye gazed into a mirror that was not a mirror and Life was perceived Truthfully. After all, a reflection was the only thing that could not hide, that could not lie as any falsehood it did tell, was not of its own creation. A mirror was Truth and Truth was Seen.

Burning, pain, death. It all coiled around the flexible threads of the future, events and alterations spinning their way around the tapestry of the Truth, a dance of chaos as possibilities were slowly torn away one at a time, the number of outcomes shrinking the closer they drew to the present. Choice impacted reality and this was the consequence: the destruction of what ifs and mayhaps. Choice determined the story that was to be read and within the realm of mirrors and reflections, the story could be seen early. And so, it was read, it was watched and studied by the eye that was not an eye, by sight beyond sight.

Opulent in its simplicity, a room swam into focus. The twisting, smoky cries of pain being expressed both physically and through the Force curled around the setting, casting a darkened hue upon the otherwise clean and light walls. Set in the center of the room, cast in sharp relief by the burning, brass braziers that lined the walls, a circle of chairs were gathered. Three figures sat within the three chairs, their eyes closed and heads bowed, focus fixated upon what hovered within the air before them: a ball that glowed a soft white hue within the Force, reaching out with numerous tendrils to link with the people outside of the room and yet did not exist physically; Battle Meditation. Feet that did not exist, prowled forth into their midst, focus settling onto the figures and drawing them into sharp relief.

The first figure was a human female, dressed in armour rather than the robes of her fellows with a mace resting against the side of her chair. Long red hair was gathered and tired into a tight bun atop her head, leaving the wrinkle covered canvas of her features revealed along with the small smattering of white that was gathering along her temple. The second figure was a male Togruta, their skin a mix of whites and reds, montrals hanging down on top of the creases of his brown hued robes. At his waist was a simple lightsaber, one containing no ornamentation: practical. The final figure was also male but this one was of the Cathar race, burnt amber fur clipped short and contrasting against the black and reds of his robes. The Cathar had no weapon at his waist, instead, it rested across his lap: a saberstaff.

Reaching out deeper into the vision the mirror had presented, the room disappeared from view and, instead, replaced with burning worlds, words of conquest and visions of the three he had just witnessed standing strong, unbeaten and unbowed against the forces of the Darkness that had been leveled upon them, forcing that included a few familiar faces. And, with that, the vision shattered as to did the mirror, the soft breathing that had created the cracks transforming into a rumbling growl that proved to be too much strain for the silence to remain present against.

With slowness, an amber eye opened to stare, unseeing, into the dark and shadows that had remained, a smirk pulling at scarred lips before the Force began to scream, pain and torment lancing through it as space was broken just as the mirror of silence had been. In the end, nothing remained within the room but the darkness that bred silence once more. The form of Darth Lykos was no more on Iridonia, instead, between one beat of his hearts and the next, he was on Helre, ready to retell the story, to alter what was to be for he was the Shadows themselves and it would be he that would quench the Light of the three he had witnessed through the mirror.



Helre - Capital City - Spires of the Jedi

For one such as Darth Lykos, the perception of others was nothing more than a toy to be played with, a novelty that was malleable and easily tricked. It had been years since his true personality, true ideal and self, had been gazed upon by his Master, Darth Ophidia. He had learnt from the Pale Assassin, after all, been taught and trained to lie and deceive to the point that he had inherited the title of White Assassin and Aspect of Conquest. At this point of time, falsehoods had become his very air, the world around him only seeing him as he permitted them to see him: whether that be as the bestial Sith Lord, the quiet Assassin or the polite if slightly bloodthirsty Virak Ip of Sev Tok.

As such, it should have been expected that this behaviour of falsehoods had seeped into the manner he wielded the Force. He was not as strong in the Force as some of his fellow Sith Lords and he never would be, he could not collapse building atop the heads of his foes for example, but, he had no need to be either. He wielded the Force as a scalpel, precise and careful in his actions, striking only at the points that needed to be struck at. Why, after all, should he bring down a building when weakening the structural supports would do the work for him.

It was due to this, as the Iridonian prowled through the once grand and now ruined spires, uncaring of the fire and smoke that fought to and failed to consume him, that he passed through un-bothered and un-interrupted. The Force was gathered around him in the form of a Cloak even as his soul and mind remained fused with the Shadows even after his body had been reformed from the smoke. Light and sound were buffeted away just as much as the fire and smoke was while his Presence within the Force was simply not there; shrunk down to a pin point - to the extent that he could perceive the very atoms of the world around him - while simultaneously being stripped of all identifying characteristics and made one with the Force. This was his true strength, the ability to become nothing more than a Shadow through a combination of the techniques labelled Force Stealth, Cloak, Art of the Small and his bastardised version of the White Current.

Delving deeper into the spire, the Assassin crept closer and closer to where the three members of Helre's Jedi Council had sequestered themselves away at, himself barely sliding around the grasping, searching tendrils of the Battle Meditation that sought to hinder his own abilities. Striding through fire and ash as if a wraith, intent upon his prey and the blood that would be spilled that day, he ignored the hurrying beacons of Light that were other Jedi that scurried about above his head like the rats that they were, desperately fighting back against the encroaching Forces of the Eye - he was the Shadows of the Galaxy and, as such, their existence was one that he had known about previously - as well as the more muted ones that lined his path; the sentinels set the guard his prey no doubt. In that, they were failing for how could one hope to defend against a shadow when they were everywhere and were most strong wherever there was Light.

As the door to the Chambers he sought loomed before him, Lykos' stride did not falter for a moment as, instead of colliding with it, his form collapsed into smoke once more, passing through the doors without much difficulty before reforming on the other side. What greeted the Iridonian was the room he had seen in his vision, not that he was able to physically see it of course. His experiments into the Force and Darkness had succeeded their objectives, rendering him capable of gazing into the past and future as well as fusing with the Dark when needed but, in return, the final vestiges of sight had been robbed from him. As such, what he saw was a mixture of visions from the Present as well as a mental representation of the room created through his Force Sense.

Moving on silent feet, Lykos drew closer to the two Jedi Masters and the Jedi Grandmaster. On hand dropped to his waist as he approached the red headed human - Selene Gelr, the Grandmaster- slowly drawing the blade that rested in its sheath. As he did so, his unseeing and unseen eye began to glow a menacing, amber hue.

He was the Predator. These were his Prey. He was the Shadows come to snuff out their foolish Light. Such was the reality that solidified around him, such was the reality now reflected upon the mirror, such was the truth he had decreed and created. This was nature and now the Hunt would begin.

 

[Mythos]

Thunder and Conquest
Orbithttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lsmnIzs8j0g
It was time for the main frontal assault on the Capital World of Orondesu. The eyes of the Lord of Host shined a yellow so bright and intense it would be better to refer to it as gold mixed with white rather than the classical yellow and red most sith in the galaxy sported. The weapons he carried with him were nothing more than the Rudis of the Dark Lord and his lightsabers for melee and a pistol from his youth in naboo referred to as the diplomats blaster. The Orbit around the worlds has become a killing field as the forces of [member="Darth Abyss"] took the brunt of the damage leaving the cathedral ships and the main force to unleash their salvos and pick off their warships one by one. Their strafighters fought valiantly but they lacked numbers as for every one of the droid ships shot down three more would take its place. The Legion of the eye was here and with them came ruin and death.

Beside Mythos in the flagship known as the Envoy of the End was his daughter Kida who hated metal ships with the passion of a thousand blazing supernovas but once on the ground he would have his wish of hunting and killing alongside both Kida and Groom his Tuk'ata, a massive beast overgrown and overfed who had seen just as much battle as the greatest soldiers in this assault. He sensed the worry of [member="Maelasi Eramar"] regarding his daughter, it made him smile. Although Kida sported the outwards appearance of a child shaken and scared of metal ships who crossed across the sky she was far from a defenseless child, she was a beast in her own right with claws and jaws that would tear the life of man and droid while moving at the speed of a gust of wind. Mythos worried more about Marines and Strike teams being hurt than his daughter, he had more pity of the jedi caught in the jaws of Kida than in the crossfire of a firefight.

On the other hand to his eternal satisfaction was [member="Seras Rose"], the woman that destiny had touched. Out of all the soldiers who were here Seras was the only one apart from Maelasi who was there during his resurrection, again coming to him out of the blue during a dinner in the criminal underworld and again here by his side as worlds fell apart by the power of his command. "Do you see that Seras?" He said, gesturing to the movement of ships that were under the command of [member="Causstik Rahn"], champion of the scorekeeper, trandosha's favorite son. As the dip and move of the ships played out before them a holographic projector in the ship had a full view of the battlefield fed by every ship in the armada. "That is called a bait and switch, he used the eagerness and disarray of his enemies to slip by unnoticed and land a force of soldiers on the planet which he picked." He gestured again to the naval fleets of Darth Abyss and his tactic of sending lesser ships in front and, in the form of waves, create a barrier to protect the elite forces at the back. "That is an assault of waves, using the most disposable and replaceable soldiers to take the brunt of the attack so that your elite forces come in fresh when the enemy is spent on rabble and scrap" His words were that of a professor giving a class with no urgency to the situation.. the only urgency was teaching Seras the fundamentals of conquest and invasion.

Before them the images of [member="The Matador"] and [member="Lord Furiel"] came alight in perfect definition due to the backup they both had of high quality Nubian drones and the strike forces of the Nubian special operations team. "Shock and Awe" He said, smiling as the sight of the greatest warriors already in the surface causing incredible death and destruction thus destroying the spirits of the enemy. He looked at her as the images of the warriors played out behind him and explained what he had meant. "When you have a force that is small but elite enough to absolutely overwhelm and dominate the enemy force in a relatively small amount of time that is called Shock and Awe. It is especially effective when attacking fortified cities such as capitals or metropolises. Simply put it is causing chaos at a grand scale in a short time with small resources... as demonstrated before you"

The class was cut short, they needed now to land on the capital world and finish this invasion once and for all. The next lesson Seras would have would be hands on and no safety to be had. The young lady had been at Atrisia, she was scarred and mentally bruised because of it but at this time that would all be left in the past... now she would bring the pain and destruction instead of just beholding it around her. Mythos would grant her control of the pain in the form of his Herald of War.

As the envoy prepared to enter surface one voice sounded from the massive command chamber in the Envoy, a voice which resonated within the power of the force with a vibration that shook the very fabric of the force. A being which had lived almost a millennia, a being which had waited that much for the return of Mythos trough the black pyramid of Ankhypt. [member="Neb-ka of Myth "]The Prophet of The Eye, Lord of Vision towered above everything that surrounded them but bowed before the Emperor. The power the prophet exhumed through the force was nothing less than oppressive and all encompassing, only he and few others did he knew about could actually see into the future purging the darkside like a silk veil before their eyes. Neb-ka was such a being. Their eyes met, Mythos nodded and raised his hand to give the order to begin the assault.

​

​

“It is written.”

​

"Then so it shall be"

The Assault

Hangars opened, Mythos called all those willing to join in the assault who were not indispensable in the ships to join him. Drop pods as well as drop ships and transports brought forth Artillery, Armor and Infantry fighting vehicles to launch the main assault into the most fortified and defended of all planets. Already they were under attack and getting hit pretty hard by anti air and anti orbit guns in the capital. Mythos stood upon the platform of the Akai Arenok, an Atrisian Royal force transport ship with a company of infantry and a regiment of the special armored strike force. As they were launched into the surface Mythos addressed those before him but before he could speak a roar could be heard from the back and it raised the ears if his Tuk'ata Groom who never left his side. That... was Typhojem. A monster created by Sith Alchemy and Magic into a Sith Spawn Tuk'ata bred for the only purpose of killing worlds. He smiled at the sound of the beast, here in this transport he lay eager for blood, two days had he gone without food, now he would feast upon the flesh of a thousand. "Commanders you know your attack patterns, each one of you has a layout of the battlefield, keep within cover and concealment and push forward to the guns. Once they go down reinforcements of armor and cavalry will assist us." He spoke fast, fastened his durasteel helmet and his armor and the ramp opened while the ship stood stationary.

Mythos lead the assault, as soon as the ramp was open they came under fire. The Teams fired back, armored infantry vehicles flanked to the sides while giving cover for the main assault of the seventeen ships to move into the position. They had landed in a mountainous region outside of the capital filled with spiked rocks and grassy plains. No forested trees on either side, above them the surface air battle raged on. Using his skills and his force sense he deflected and redirected blaster bolts directed at him, as he wore armor shining and glimmering as to identify him while he assaulted the enemy lines looking for the cover of stones and hoping that mortar and artillery fire would not catch him so precisely. To his flanks the infantry fighting vehicles did their job, drawing the brunt of the fire from the infantry as to let them assault forward and gain ground to cover behind. Suddenly Mythos caught the eye of a being who offered his services, apparently word was he was a Necromancy cult. He smiled and laughed. "[member="Cellebiat"] keep close and don't die"

Mythos would not let this turn into an even fight, as the infantry assaulted and took cover he kept assaulting forward with hand picked Anubians, Nubians, Valkiry and Atrisians who made up the Mythonian force company as something rushed from behind the force moving at the speed of the wind. He expected both Kida and Groom to be assaulting the enemy force with him but to his suprise Groom already was crushing on skulls and bones many meters before him but as Mythos assaulted a position the ground began to shake behind him, two soldiers flanked him but he used his telekinetic might to smash one into the other then instantly reflecting in incoming blaster bolt and finishing by impaling the two soldiers with a single downwards thrust.

Then.... Fire.

Typhojem had arrived. A beast that towered over even tanks and armor. Armored in Songsteel from ears to paws, it sported three heads, lava and flame belched from its maws. It's eyes blazing red as it drenched the battlefield before them in a shower of flame from three maws large enough to swallow a large man and not chew. It drenched the land as Mythos stood beneath the beast. The Assault now became a lake of fire. Typhojem was created by the power of the necropolis of Ankhypt, he was an abomination of life and the force who walked and breathed only death and fire. He crashed forward beside Mythos and his forces, beside Groom the huntmaster of the beast. The enemy force began to fall back and give ground.​

 

[Cellebiat]

Cellebiat raised his nonexistent eyebrow at his response. He trailed [member="Mythos"] and slaughtered soldier after soldier effortlessly. At one point, he knew he was inside of the temple fighting two Jedi masters. Slash after slash, he could only keep them at bay. He may have been fighting for an hour. Finally, the Master with a cut across his eye left himself unguarded and Cellebiat threw him against a wall, charged, and stabbed him through the gut. He then advanced on the Older Jedi master, but spared him, as he respected his elders, even if he was much, much older. Cellebiat had lost track of [member="Mythos"], but that didn't mean he wouldn't keep fighting. He rushed into the literal heat of battle, as a pyroclastic flow was spurting from the ground. He approached a wounded Jedi, hand cut off and without lightsaber, making due with the blaster of his dead ally. "Cellebiat will bring you to a medic."

The Jedi looked at Celebiat with astonishment, as he noticed how he slaughtered many of his brethren. Cellebiat wasn't a monster; just a soldier, willing to mindlessly kill, but also help the needy. Cellebiat found a medic and got the Jedi patched up, then rushed into battle and started slaughtering once more. He fought for [member="Mythos"], for his own gain. "But that doesn't mean Cellebiat will not help others."

Cellebiat spotted [member="Mythos"] and his inner circle slaughtering a short distance away. He slowly followed them, killing on his way. He noticed a sniper taking aim at [member="Mythos"], and pulled him off of the tall ledge he was standing on. He then caught up to [member="Mythos"], and joined him in fighting.

 

[Darth Abyss]

Nibelungen System, Above Soro-Frigus

From high up in the sky Abyss watched the icy world below come closer. The Jedi called it Soro-Frigus, the cold sister, but he already had a new one for it in mind. Compared to the other planets in the system it was a small, frozen rock, riddled with natural caves and high on common, but relevant resources like iron, which was the only reason why anyone had even settled the inhospitable world with short days and endless nights. While he and his elite continued their rapid descend towards the surface, his vessel faded back into invisibility, commanded only by his A.I. Glory. Her task was to scan and monitor the area from above to make it easier for him and his Ghostmakers to clear several LZs for the brunt of his forces.

As the surface began to take shape, Abyss raised his right to pass on a mute command to his soldiers. On his mark the group of falling metal suddenly scattered, each of them drifting apart from each other to clear an area of their own. So far the enemy had made little effort to stop them, according to the scans made by Glory only scouts had been send out to investigate. The rain of debris wasn't just a deadly weapon and a shield to his fleet, it was a cloak of deception in which his first strike team could hide in plain sight.

When the ground was only around ten meters away, the husk suddenly straightened himself in the air, and stretched out his arms. Below him he could see a speeder armed with a heavily turret, as well as four enemy soldiers standing besides it. They barely made out a roughly human shape that was coming down instead of random wrecks, when the descend of the creature slowed down considerably. Like a demon the hollow lord levitated towards the ground, seemingly untouched by the laws of physics. Even from so far away he could feel the confusion in the minds of the scouts, a weakness that could easily be exploited by the use of some theatrics.

"Surrender now, and your worthless lives will be spared."

The distorted voice of the Prophet echoed over frozen desert, an unholy echo followed by an nearly incomprehensible whisper that had no source or point of origin. One of the scouts raised his rifle and aimed it at Abyss, who in response moved his left, claw like hand, and pointed his fingers towards the foolish soldier.

"By the power of the council you are under arre..."

There was not enough time left to finish his sentence, before the scouts eye grew blank, and all emotion faded from his face. His comrades didn't managed to even react before the rifle changed position and opened fire, taking the lives of two of them without any sort of resistance. The last one lifted his own weapon, but instead of firing again his broken comrade simply raised his weapon to his chin and pulled the trigger.

As Abyss touched the ground he could hear the chatter of his Ghostmakers of his comm: "Sector 2 Clear, Sector 4 Clear...". The last of his enemies looked at the eldritch monstrosity with fear, as soundless steps carried him over the snow. Once more the sith lord raised his left, unleashing his mind upon the little insect that defied his new ruler. The mental assault left nothing behind but a empty shell, a body that was still breathing but without a single thought in his head.

"Sector 1 Clear. "

The way for his forces was paved, and soon the few inhabitants of his new world would either bow to them, or die.

[member="Mythos"]

 

[Seras Rose]

Seras did not let the specifics of this battle escape her, a lone grey eye watching the battle with intensity. Grand scale strategy was something that she had never been privy to witnessing before. Not in such a grand spectacle of destruction and chaos as was seen here. Every single Warlord used their own troops and ships to excellent and devastating effect. On the surface, she could see through monitors and sensors on the bridge that a few sleeper attacks were going off at the same time in key locations. It was clear to her that this had not been hastily planned attack like it had seemed when she was first called. "All pulled off to devastating effect... A brilliant display of destruction and carnage. I will be learning much in the days to come." There was a edge in that voice and a fire in her eye as she spoke those words. Her right hand shifted as she listened to Mytho's teaching, the hand resting on the pommel of her blade. A deep desire to draw that blade could be felt radiating off the young woman as their lesson was cut short by the needs of the battle. It called them to it's fields, to fight, kill and destroy. And when Mythos turned to meet that call, Seras was not a single step behind him.

Standing in the rocking Atrisian Royal Transport, Seras held a tight hand on a grip as the dropship shook from anti aircraft fire. But from each and every explosion, there was no fear. Instead her right hand only gripped the pommel of her sword tighter in anticipation. The murmuring of a few inside the transport did not catch hear ear, nor did Typhogem who stood as a giant alchemical beast inside the transport. She heard nothing... But she felt it. The hunger of the beast which had not eaten. Rip, tear and feast were it's motives. Those inside had their own motives, but there was a unifying chord amongst it all. That was standing right beside her. When the transport landed and troops started to rush out in a flurry, Mythos charging out, Seras walked at a measured pace down the ramp. She did not flinch when a blaster bolt flew past her, or explosions went off. It was not hesitation or fear. Her instincts told her. 'Wait, your time is not yet'. Even her sword hand which rested now on the hilt proper was calm, steady.

And then it happened. The giant beast of war, born in a crypt and made to send hundreds of thousands to the same place it came from struck. Lava and flames of death belched forth form the creatures maw, like a wreath of unholy fire calling for the destruction of the light. Leaning forward on the ramp, she kicked off with every inch of force her body could muster. Rushing across the ramp littered with dead, she payed none any heed as she called upon the force. Letting it flow through her body, she leapt across groups of rocks which had been used as cover by the Enemy Soldiers, her right foot landing on the top of the final one at the edge of the newly made lake of fire, Seras launching herself over the flams from it. A flashy move that at any other instant in the battle, one just before, or just after, would have gotten her killed. But admidst the smoke for concealment and the opening that had just been made, it was guaranteed to be safe. Her right hand remained on the hilt of her blade as she landed, but her left pulled out her blaster and the instant her feet touched the ground, two shots firing off in quick succession. One to the chest of a soldier who had just turned to face her, the second to one trying to fire back at Mythos's main force with a emplaced gun. But she was not here for those two after thoughts, her body immediately back into motion after the two quick shots were made. It would have been easy to miss among the smoke and chaos, but thanks to how quickly the enemy's front line had been annihilated and sent into disarray there was a rare target which presented itself. A enemy commander.

Her body surged forth with Seras's only focus being his head, the commander for the first time in his life felt the fear of death. He made cries to his troops to rally and defend him and several brave souls answered the call. But it was too late for him. By the time the brave six had turned around to begin firing at her, Seras was already there. Ducking under the first shot fired by the commander her body scraped low to the ground as though hugging the earth and as he aimed for the next shot Seras was already drawing her blade. In the same motion as it was drawn, it's tip arcing through the air in a graceful move while carefully avoiding his outstretched arm before flashing across his neck. To the commander, time froze, his vision went black and he died, his head flying for all the enemy troops to witness right before their own eyes. Mythos's Herald of War had just made her first declaration. Death and Destruction upon all and none that none no matter how high in stature were safe.

[member="Cellebiat"] [member="Mythos"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

EDEMAR - Home of Jedi Autocracy | Matador's Landing

​The Matador struck first, his strike being met with a glancing parry from the Grandmasters blade; the Jedi recognised that his smaller frame and blade couldn't contend with the sheer might of Oribuir; he carried the weight on the curve of one of his two blades over his shoulder, however he did not anticipate the Matador making use of his right hand; with a strike imbued with force speed he thrust his palm towards the exposed chest of the Grandmaster; whom in turn used the momentum of his parry to bringing his elbow down to meet the Matador's strike, moving with greater speed and using the Matador's weight in his arm to entirely dodge the strike.

​However, it was Caladen's protective nature he would use. As he intended to end the Matador quickly, using his movement to bring his foremost blade towards the Matador's neck. The Matador imbued his movement with force energy, increasing his strength and speed as he threw his shoulder into the Grandmasters chest, his body jolted; knocking him back into the wooden walls of the Jedi's home. Splinters of wood rose into the air as the Matador moved forward unflinching as the Grandmaster crashed through the wall, falling down one of four massive spiralling staircases. The fire was beginning to grow, and so was their fear.

​The Matador knew they outnumbered him, beginning to surround him. However, it was like ants pinching at a Crocodile. A knight swung his blade, aiming for the Matador's forearm. His simple response as a wide strike, carrying enough force to stagger the Jedi before his hand clamped down on his throat, throttling him into the ground. Oribuir followed, landing at full length in front of him as he fell to one knee. He placed both ands on the length of Oribuir's hilt, turning with both wrists extended and using the joint of his right arm constricted to keep the blade steady as his left leg rose, pulling himself upward as his left arm began its windup. The Jedi mistook his weapons placement as a disadvantage, it merely allowed him to build up a momentous strike.

​Oribuir was carried around his body in a full circle, its sheer weight and speed making it impossible to stop and ensuring death for all who came within its 10 foot radius. A large Wookie warrior, standing at a little taller than his own height; approached carrying a larger blue saber, a Master rising to the defence of the helpless. Their blades clashed as the Matador returned to a half-swording form. The Wookie struck with rage and ferocity, however his body language betrayed him; he was desperate for an opening. Thus, the Matador provided him once, feigning a gap in his defences. The Wookie struck for his exposed flesh, his saber grazing the thick of his waist, burning through the Matador's flesh as he spun around, almost too late; catching the blue saber on top of his own, between his arms and using the momentum of his movement to disarm the Master and cutting him down in the process.

​The warrior fell to the ground, growling in pain as his body convulsed in pain. The Matador saw how the others looked on in terror as he thrust Oribuir into the torso of the fallen Wookie, silencing him permanently.

​The Grandmaster once more was making his way up a great many sets of stairs, desperately trying to reach his people as the clashes of sabers and screams filled his ears. He felt true fear.