Dominion Helfrost | Dominion of Helgard | Warlords of the Sith

[Kascalion Giedfield]

​

Krokros.

It was more than a thing of legend proven to be true, at least to Hrossbjorn - another would-be King of the Helgardi following the demise of Cardinal Prime at the hands of the Slayer Irveric Tavlar . This is what he decided as he rose to his feet near the edge of that sinking chunk of ice, now separated far from his band of Helgardi Remnants that had arrived with the Devil. It was more than something you would find in a myth that had evidence towards its existence, or some religious text that spoke of its divine or hellish interventions. Naturally, this was discounting the fact that it was now visibly proven to have existed.

No.

Hrossbjorn had so quickly decided that the beast - the Powersnake - was Helgard itself. How could he not having been borne witness to the size of it. The power of it. The indomitable will that radiated off of its hide as it rose and sank with such speed and ferocity in spite of its sheer mass. It could only be Helgard's core and its soul. The very thing that held the planet together as it swirled through the endless reaches of the abyss. An abyss that itself swam through greater endless expanses, pregnant and swirling with other stars and worlds - each possibly with their own Krokros.

And it was not fear that filled the Helgardi's heart as he thought of these things. Rather, it was...as if he felt some missing part of himself filling in. Some piece that was forgotten and was now returning to form in his mind - consciously, as opposed to others who were drawn to this field on some instinct. His attention turned to the rivers of blood that ran down his left arm from a large, burning gash - the result of his own weapon slicing through his flesh. Each drop stained the frost beneath his feet with crimson and melted it down to the frigid surface that hummed with the Powersnake's movements.

Then, his gaze shifted to the others on the floating chunks of rime that threatened to capsize at any moment. To the fools who fell to their knees in such abject fear that was unbecoming of any true Helgardi, that Krokros as a thing of dread. That feeling in his heart surged into a newfound hatred, for any weakness of any kind would not be tolerated by a true Helgardi.

And that is when the realization hit his cortex like a spiked hammer, and the words fell from his fanged mandibles without his approval or even any form of constructing them himself. The words were thus: "Krokros...the Powersnake...Helgard. I see now what you are doing. You are showing me the weak-willed of my people before my ascension to become King...so that I may eradicate them for dreading your return."

The Helgardi warrior thundered an understanding cackle as he picked up the weapon piercing the floating ice chunk under him. A vibro-halberd, dripping with water. To get to those other floating chunks of ice, he would have to swim, but he...believed that this understanding of Krokros would enable him to succeed. Why else would he be left alive if not become its champion?

Unfortunately, this could not come to pass before the great beast breached the waves once again and swallowed him in a single roar. There was a scream of confusion that escaped his throat as he tumbled and clattered through the inner workings of the great titan, unsure of what to grab onto. Unsure of where to go or where to land...until it all went black when his head cracked against something hard and solid.

And so the Helgardi lay, deep into the system that was Krokros. Undreaming and unseeing, yet somehow conveniently near a man in a similar situation who, if fortune would have it so, come upon the would-be king very shortly.

 

[Darth Bellum]

Purge
[ Theme ]
​

| Location | Helgard​

| Purpose | Cleanse [ OBJ II ]​

​

Bellum seemed to just stare at the Sith at his side in silence as they spoke, as if suspended in time and space, forever captured in the moment. There was nothing to be felt from the avatar of war, not even a perceivable indication of his emotions to those who were in proximity as Immortuous spoke. When the undead Sith had concluded his words asking if he was required to repeat the question, though judging by his response it seemed that the Sith had failed to grasp the true meaning of his words. Bellum spoke, his voice once again rumbling - an everchanging tide of voices of those he had consumed in his centuries of existence.​

​

" Your question is as trivial as emotions are to either of us. What once was that will forever cease to be, has now simply transformed and become one with the cycle - the eternal conflict. So long as there is Light and Dark, there shall forever be a struggle as one attempts to break the balance. I cannot be dependent on something that I intrinsically exist as. "​

​

The specter of war's gaze returned back to the field as conflict and action had been set into motion on Helgard.​

​

" Even had I not been granted the gift of perceiving and utilizing the Force, my actions have forever changed the course of life for those I have touched, and in doing so shall alter the course of those they interact with. The results would have been the same with or without me living on in death. "​

​

Bellum's skeletal hand reached out into the snowy oblivion, like talons stretching out to grasp at something before his hand slowly twisted and turned, his fingers curling into a fist as he slowly brought it back towards his hollow chest.​

​

" I am not a cog in the machine - Those are the pawns and those who live on touched by my influence. I am the force that powers and drives it. Conflict breeds conflict - cultivates hatred and resentment that will span generations. The power to influence and shape an entire era is merely a stepping stone. My name could be tarnished and spoken ill of for all I care by those who curse my name and actions, it matters not what is said of that which I have created, so long that it resides in the hearts of those I have touched. "​

​

​

Darth Immortuos

​

 

[Darth Sinestruss]

OBJECTIVE II
Asmundr Varobalder | Kascalion Giedfield | Kuric Taumin


When Krokros revealed its behemoth form through the ice, Siqsa had been thrown from her speeder and crushed against a capsizing iceberg. Gingerly pushing herself up from the frigid embrace of the ice clump she had slumped onto, she shook her head. Disorientated and unaware that the ancient beast was lurking in the depths right beneath her she stumbled up to her feet. She looked around. The Helgardi transport was in flams and sinking, Kuric Taumin was nowhere to be found.

She whirled around in point and eyed a Jedi Asmundr Varobalder who had been travelling across the ice sheets. The waves of the frozen ocean lapped against her island and shook it. Siqsa had to throw out a hand and use the Force to grip it solid and rest it into a stable wobbling balance. She eyed the Jedi once more and flung out a pointed finger.

"You've chosen a sorry time to look for a fight Jedi!" she yelled at the Jedi, "Normally we'd be calling for each other's deaths but, looks like something else much bigger wants ours."

The beast surfaced once more to swallow a Helgardi warrior whole. She grimaced and looked to the immediate area around her. Force Leaping across she landed on a wider flat ice sheet still intact as a wide disc. She tried to follow the ripples in the water to follow the path of the beast but when it dove deep enough to not disturb the surface waters it was virtually invisible to her. Siqsa frowned, she ignited the crimson blade of her lightsaber and twirled it about, like a glowing bait to the beast ( Kascalion Giedfield ). As she did so the Dark Side fumed within her, she baited it more and more.​

 

[Chimera]

S C H I S M
C H I M E R A
HJALLAHEIM

In the wake of the war waged against this world by the New Imperials families were left broken, homes were left destroyed, and the city was in ruin. There was nothing they could have done, those innocents who had been forced to flee their homes as line after line of stormtrooper razed their streets and tore down everything that had been built brick-by-brick. Most of the warriors had fought and died, some even had come back from that much, only to be slain again. But it was a gallant thing, dying for the sake of what one loved. He admired it, even, perhaps that much was why he found himself suffering the icy winds of the planet to accomplish his own mission whilst the others scattered across the world in secret, sowing their insidious seeds of chaos.

Little did Chimera know, they were doing far more than that.

The upheaval of balance within The Force localized had been enough to garner his attention, though he had offered no question into the communicator built into his helmet, presuming if the others needed his aid they would call for him. He focused forward, tucking his fingers beneath the pits of his arms as he shuffled along the street beneath his heavy cloak, dead eyes flickering about, on high alert for the patrol he had discovered would be pathing this way.

​

 

[Boreal]

Helgard was a world unlike most he had been deployed to simply for its environment. Most planets the man known only as Boreal had visited were tropical or dry or even scorching hot, although the latter was only during extremely necessary deployments that saw the full usage of his powers and his suit.

Here, in this frozen tundra, he felt at home rather than trapped in some winding plain of sand or grass. Just the icy elements for him to command as he saw fit and in another time, he would have loved to try his hand at crafting more than just weapons with his Cryomancy. Yes, he had the capabilities of constructing more on a smaller level, but entire fortresses made of impervious frost and rime...well that was something that would be truly wondrous to behold.

How unfortunate it was, then, that this could not come to pass for the Jedi Knight. His purpose here was far greater than any mere Cryomantic practicing could ever hold.

Boreal sat at the edge of a cliff overlooking the city of Hjallaheim, buried deep under the mountains, thinking on this matter and planning his approach. Below him, the Shining Walls orbited the city, manned by the Helgardi's best, who attempted to ignore the shudders and shakes of whatever infernal thing broke the already fractured planet. Alert and on-edge, they were watching for any and all invaders who would seek to breach the sanctity of the Helgardi Capital, including their own people - whom would appear to have fallen to superstitious fervor in recent moments. He would have to sneak past them, as he had...as his brother had.

No time like the present, he thought to himself solemnly before leaping down and to the right, hoping to remain hidden in the shadows and avoid confrontation with an already harrowed people.

Chimera

 

[Chimera]

H U N T
C H I M E R A
HJALLAHEIM
// Boreal //

Perhaps he had overlooked the familiar presence in The Force when the disturbance rippled across it, but now that he had tuned it out, he could focus. Frigid fingers tugged the edges of the hood pulled over his head closer, deepening the shroud it cast over his features as he walked on, form mostly masked beneath the heavy fur cloak he had purchased from some native woman upon his arrival. Truthfully, he did not have need for such basic means of maintaining warmth, but using those he preferred would have only exposed him like a festering wound, revealing his presence to any who were sensitive in the area. Stealth was the name of this game.

The low-droning of repulsor craft caught his attention, resounding just ahead on the street, from the sound of it. He lifted his head, turning his scarred face in that direction. Could it have been who he was looking for? The glistening shine of the Iron Sun etched across icy durasteel met his gaze and confirmed his theory, earning a vague, but hidden smile in turn. Scout troopers roved by, riding at a moderate pace to patrol the streets, pausing here and there to bark orders at those native citizens who had taken to groveling on their knees in the street, praying fanatically to their gods as the beast of reverence was unleashed elsewhere.

Its presence was enough to be nauseating, even here.

But Chimera cared little for legends and monsters.

Falling into brisk step behind the speeder duo, he gave subtle chase until they drew to a stop and dismounted to address a group of babbling Helgardi sternly. Rather than create a scene that could be traced back to him, the Sith Lord lurked on the fringe of the square, waiting for a sublime moment to present itself. He needed a distraction that was not overtly tied to an act through The Force. One presented itself to him not moments later when the Scouts stepped aggressively forward, narrowing the distance between themselves and the locals they were to "correct". A swipe of his hand saw the Helgardi woman shoved by invisible pressure and thrust directly into the Scouts, stirring up a defensive, violent response.

A little pocket of encouraged chaos was all he needed.

As other Helgardi rushed to the woman's defense while the Scouts retaliated with batons, a fight erupted, and Chimera darted to mount one of the bikes, quickly speeding off while the owners were too busy with their duties. A glance down towards the onboard screen revealed the base was far closer than he had assumed. But... now something else pinged his radar. A familiarity that bloomed ice up his spine and across his ribcage.

Instant anger flared in his belly, burning away the frozen dread.

His brother was here. It was a curious matter, then. Chimera couldn't help but wonder what had brought Boreal to this world.

Whatever the purpose for his visit, the pyrokinetic was sure he would run into him sooner or later.

Their orbits always inevitably collided.

​

 

[Molly Armstrong]

Objective I
Darth Sinestruss | Aaran Tafo | Kascalion Giedfield | Asmundr Varobalder
​

He heard the rushing of more water down the beast's throat before it reach him, and he braced himself to be swept even further down the cavernous innards. Instead, the water simply fell from above dousing him, and leaving another poor soul on the fleshy floor nearby. He had only paced a few feet from where he himself had landed out of uncertainty for the stability of the "terrain".

The cold water again doused his flames, though the room was getting was getting warmer, and more humid. As he tried to light a larger flame than before, the air around him exploded and sent him flying backwards into the wall. His spiked armour gouged into the flesh, covering him in a slow trickle of blood as he tried to dislodge himself.

He limped over to the other man, to find out if this soul had been as unlucky as him to survive the entry into this new kind of hell. The darkness obscured all, and his fire was no longer an option if there were stomach gases in the air. He called upon the darkside of the force to grant him a sliver of sight, enough that his eyes could part the darkness just in front of him. He saw the newcomer was a Helgardi, though he didn't recognize the man as their king. It would matter much if the poor sod was dead.

He knelt next to the man and shook his corpse.

"Helgardi! Do you live?"

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

​

The Powersnake's dominion was absolute, unshakeable in its reach. Unbreakable in its control over the end. Indeed, it was clear what was to come with each unopposed breaching, each sinking of the ice, and each devouring of the Helgardi who had resorted to the dreadful praising of the beast that swam beneath and around them. To those that still had their wits enough to form some type of coherent thought, this was the complete and utter destruction of the Helgardi people. An unavoidable fate, really, and the beast - in its aged primality - itself knew this.

This was made most apparent when it breached the ice once more, drawn to the surface by a glistening red light that shone down even in the darkened depths of the ocean. A light it had seen several times before in recent years. It should have intended to attack the thing holding the light directly. It should have, given its bestial nature, but it did not. No, its knowing of fate made it do something unexpected. Something different. It reared through the cracks and the frost far from the light, curving its head and neck at the last moment, spearing itself high into the sky that had become blistered with storm winds and shards of loose ice blown through the land. A gargantuan roar escaped its throat, sending sea and spittle to rain down upon the ice fields that held Helgardi and others. Even chunks of victims that were caught in its teeth fell with the rain, clattering or thumping down in metal and flesh. And then, its starship-sized eyes looked down to that which held the red light. Only then did it know why it was truly drawn to this figure, for it was they who emitted a raw power in some form of esoteric evil - an evil older than it had ever lived and perhaps older than Helgard itself.

A "smile" broke its lips and a thunderous, lightning crack of...perhaps a laugh...split the sky in twain as the Helgardi who had fallen to fear screamed and screeched and prostrated themselves in the old, blind superstition. And then, it spoke. It spoke a language as dead as the forests of Coruscant, a language that cracked the ice even further from its mere uttering. A language that ended in as grave a laugh as any could form. And then, it opened its maw far and wide and torpedoed down, aiming for they who held the crimson blade.

Meanwhile, as it did this, as more ice and water coursed through its body, the Helgardi awoke to see the curious face of a horned man, speaking in a language it did not understand. Hrossbjorn gave off a shout and scrambled to his feet, adopting what one-armed fighting stance he could some ways away from the man, nearly stumbling on his feet and falling further down the Powersnake's endless gullet. Blood still ran down his certainly broken arm, and now from his skull.

"Fãs a?" he questioned. "Fãs a!?"

 

[Boreal]

The Jedi Knight's movements through the shadows were skillful and took him far beyond the Shining Walls with ease, although they were not his favorite tactic to infiltrate hostile locations. As much as it went against the Code of the Jedi, he enjoyed a more direct approach and would have enjoyed testing his skills against the very best of the Helgardi.

In that respect, however, he was somewhat glad he did not have to damage an already damaged people who would certainly suffer more if the Warlords succeeded in supplanting the Imperial's silent ruling over the world. And that is partly why he was here. To prevent that. They would need to rebuild and the Helgardi would prove outstandingly useful for the Galatic Alliance in the coming days.

And so, he walked through the darkness, the faint outline of his body, suit, and eyes barely perceivable it was so dark. His brother was here - the signature of his power distant in the city, and fuming as always. A sudden jolt of it signified that this power was used, in some innocuous manner of course. He was too intelligent to not use the full scope of his destruction this early, and no way was his target - whoever it may be among the straggler Imperial force or the native populace - found that quickly. The Imperials were too cautious with too many contingencies, the Helgardi too shattered and strained to offer any prospect of assassination, and Chimera was not one to act with haste. At least, he wasn't before.

Still, Boreal moved quickly as he could without drawing attention, his sight almost computer-like in the tracking of his target. A flare of the power in the distance...he sensed him too. Of course, he always would. No matter the planet, the building, the environment. They would know where each other was. The link, the bond, between them was inextricable that way. And that is what made this whole ordeal that much more somber for the Cryomancer.

Chimera

 

[Khamul Kryze]

Objective One

Slayer Gates​

Khamul made his way through the snow and ice, rushing closer and closer to the source of the disturbance. He could feel it growing with each step. Somehow, he it felt more present than before, almost as if it had forced its way into his mind and body. Khamul couldn't make sense of it. Then he noticed that he could feel the others in the area more clearly than before. Could this be the work of the tome he had found? He would have to investigate more, after the beast was put down. But for now, he continued his push forward.

As the beast came into view, Khamul was in awe at the size of it. A hulking leviathan of fang and flesh, capable of sending a torrent of ice with a single slam to the ground. Never had he sought to vanquish such a beast in the past. How could they destroy such a creature?

No. Doubt had no place among the Sith. Nor fear, nor weakness. Khamul closed his eyes, taking a moment to take in the darkness both within himself and the surrounding area.

Breathe in... breathe out...

Breathe in... breathe out...

His eyes snapped open as he ignited his lightsaber.

"I am death."

He charged straight toward the beast, ready to confront it head on. About halfway to closing the gap, he ignited his jetpack, flying through the air like a vengeful comet. Today, he became the embodiment of darkness, the harbinger of doom. He was rage incarnate, a wave of judgment on a one-way trip from God's right hand.

 

[Darth Veradun]

Objective II Location: Helgard, Icy Tundra Tag(s): Darth Bellum , Darth Immortuos , open​

The fur of some white, large beast was wrapped around his shoulders, a heavy contrast to the dark armour he was wearing, but this place was fething cold. He felt the icy winds on the exposed skin beneath his hood, after several minutes it offered a slight pain, he has never been to a world this cold and embraced the experience of this new encounter. The force of nature was truly magnificent and the Dark side was its purest aspect.

With ice and snow cracking beneath his armoured boots Darth Veradun approached the 'two' conversing individuals. His pure physicalness stood in a strong contrast to whatever they were. And apparently they were busy talking, talking about who was more less? A long tirade of the half-face about how elevated it was above the ongoings in the galaxy. His breath could be seen due to the cold as he stopped next to the two.

"Intriguing. Are you intending to talk our enemy into their graves?"

​

<< Dark Lord of the Sith >> < The Nameless Hero >​

 

[Molly Armstrong]

Objective I
| Kascalion Giedfield |
​

As he prodded the man for signs of life, he shot to his feet screaming. It would've been better if he'd been dead, for certain. Now he was trapped here, and it didn't appear as if he was adjusting well to his new situation. He was clearly injured, though he still adopted a fight composure at the sight of the imposing Kuric. He'd heard the Helgardi were fierce warriors. It would be a shame if he had to kill this one.

The Helgardi shouted something that Kuric didn't understand, likely it's native tongue. Complete unfamiliar with it, Kuric attempted to converse in Ur-Kittat, though he spoke it brokenly. If there was any common language between the two warriors it was that.

"Rajidona!" he yelled, which translated to surrender. It was not the finest word to get the man to see Kuric as an ally, but it was all he could recall from his short vocabulary of the eccliastical language of his masters.

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

​

The would-be Helgardi king struggled to maintain his balance as the great Krokros continued to writhe and worm its way through the sea, watching the man struggle to understand his language. Another wave of the ocean depths washed over the two in the chasm that was the Powersnake's gullet. For the precious gift of not being washed away further into the beast to where he could be dissolved in stomach acid, the Helgardi was grateful.

And then the man spoke something in a language he barely understood. A language that he was forced to at least grasp the fundamentals of by the Devil who ruled over them in place of the one they once saw as a God. "Rajidona!"

Surrender.

"Ra!" the Helgardi shouted back - which he thought translated to No - taking the first step forward towards the man as the great beast continued its assault. If it came to blows, he was at a severe disadvantage, but perhaps the lack of solid ground could allow him to get lucky and throw the stranger further down the throat of the beast into a horrible fate of being digested. He could only hope that he would avoid that fate himself.

Kuric Taumin

 

[Chimera]

B L A C K D O G
C H I M E R A
HJALLAHEIM
// Boreal //

The cold bit at his exposed eyelids, nipping at his lashes and the planes of his features that were not shielded by the thin fabrics he wore. He spared no glance over his shoulder as he commandeered the speeder bike, moving through the panicked streets far faster than he should have. It was only through The Force he was able to twist and torque the handlebars about to handle the craft far better than someone who was without such aid, though he soon realized in his approach of the city wall and outpost, that perhaps it wasn't going to be enough for him to simply slip in undetected.

The New Imperials had made it their mission to kill the Sith with extreme prejudice- he wasn't naive enough to believe the soldiers at the outpost wouldn't have countermeasures for his insidious abilities. Treading lightly is something he did best, though it could not be emphasized enough for this radical delve. This mission was not one he should have been undertaking by himself and would have been handled better by a pair or trio, even, but he had taken on such a challenge by himself... having been unwittingly tracked by his clan-brother.

As quietly as he could, Chimera brought his stolen bike to a halt a half klick from the outpost's gate and dismounted, leaving it behind. The Sith Lord drew his furry cloak tighter around his frame and slinked forward, keeping close to the walls as he edged down the side of the building to peek.

"You should not have come to this place," His oft-unheard voice cast out through the abyss separating him from his once-equal, "only death awaits you here."

​

 

[Asmundr Varobalder]

THE_WARDEN
THERE IS NO CHAOS, THERE IS HARMONY
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | ICE SHEETS COASTLINE | OBJECTIVE II - CAUSE DISTRACTION
ATTN: Darth Sinestruss | Kuric Taumin

Asmundr flexed his legs to counteract the ever-changing, slippery ground. It was difficult to hear over the din of the cracking environment, the screams of terror, and the grumblings of the massive, awe-striking monster.

"You've chosen a sorry time to look for a fight Jedi!"
"Normally we'd be calling for each other's deaths but, looks like something else much bigger wants ours."

The Chaos and darkness was rampant here, deeper than the waters the Powersnake travelled through. His stomach knot, and he rocked side to side on an uneasily balanced sheet that threatened to crack at the next strong movement.

"So it seems." He boomed in agreement, the icy winds ripping the words from his throat.

Were he a more aggressive Jedi, he might have lunged at the crimson-skinned Sith. That wasn't a question here, there was reason to the woman's words. The question that was begged was whether or not he helped vanquish or conquer the massive snake.

But he was one man.

There were more of them, the Sith, and their warriors -- and this creature felt thick with darkness. His duty was to protect the Jedi and civilians further off. Would he...dare he...help the Sith?

In response to pending demise, he scrambled backward against a higher rise of ice -- where he'd been standing was flooded and poured down with a watery force that would have both crushed and drowned him. As it was, the tides greedily pulled at his calves to drag him under.

Through their established network, only through the light, he reached out to feel the urgency around Aaran Tafo -- and how much longer he'd have to just..be here. He sent a flare of warning, just enough to indicate the planet itself was at war with those who travelled along it, but the Sith were occupied with it.

 

[Molly Armstrong]

Objective I
| Kascalion Giedfield |
​

Anyone else may have been offended by the Helgardi's attack, but not Kuric. The people of this world were warriors at heart, or so he'd been told. So too was the Devaronian. And for people like the two of them, strength was the only langauge they could mutually understand.

So be it.

Kuric reached to the sheath on his back instinctively, only to recall it wasn't there. He lost his footing, and slipped back on the slick flesh as the Helgardi stepped to him. As his back met the floor, he shoved his boot upwards towards the Helgardi's knees, hoping to stop him in his tracks.

All things considered, being killed by a worthy opponent would trump the likely agonizing and slow death he'd recieve being melted by the beast's stomach acid...

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

​

Just as the Helgardi hoped, the man slipped on the wet innards of the Powersnake's throat, falling to his back just as the would-be king stepped forward. The wet sounds of metal on flesh resounded in the frigid self-contained air of the beast's gullet - as if oxygen available to them was on the verge of freezing over due to the constant rush of the world's ocean and storm winds of snow and rime.

It was a sound of hope for survival amongst the frozenness. But, unlike his initial hope, this one would require a much more active involvement to ensure its success.

And so, with a surprising speed that belittled the intense pain coursing through his body, and an equal strength that should have been nigh-impossible for a handicapped man, the Helgardi king reached for the stranger's outwardly kicking leg.

Bending down at the waist, he moved to wrap his sole arm around the armored ankle of the warrior - whom he could rightfully assume was Sith, despite his entire lack of involvement with the people aside from a select few individuals. If successful, he would use the last reserves of his combative strength to swing his body around and hopefully drag the Sith across the innards and throw him further down the gullet of the beast to his assured demise. All of this while struggling to maintain his own balance and not join his opponent in this horrible fate - or replace him entirely.

Kuric Taumin

 

[Molly Armstrong]

Objective I
| Kascalion Giedfield |
​

As they scrapped desperately, and the "ground" beneath them shifted as the beast moved along, the Helgardi grabbed his leg and began to pull him. No... he was going to try something. He was going to try and through Kuric further into the monster. Kuric knew this because he would do himself in that position. It was only logical. While he'd hoped to work with the other man to escape, he'd accept a warriors death too. And if he was dying, his opponent would be coming down with him.

He used what strength he had in his position to crunch his body forward. A sharp and brutal pain in his spine flared up, but he pushed through in anger and determination. He grabbed the Helgardi by the wrists, and pulled him down with him.

Together they tumbled further down into the darkness.

When Kuric roused, unaware of how long he'd been unconscious from his fall, he whole body ached, throbbing with pain. He was floating on a large piece of metal, which he tried carefully not to fall off of as he sat up to get a better view. Though his vision was limited, he could immediately tell where they'd landed. The stomach. A greenish-yellow bile surrounded him as far as he could see, filled with the scraps of the transport ships and the decomposing carcasses of other unseen creatures of the abyss. It reeked like nothing he'd smelled before, far worse than even the labs of Darth Vinaze, eternally stained with unnatural bodily fluids.

There was no nearby sign of his competitor, though part of him hoped he'd survived as well. The least he could do was call out.

"Helgardi!" he knew the man wouldn't understand him if he said any more than that. Hopefully he could find Kuric by following his voice, so long that he had not sunk into the stomach acid...

 

[Darth Immortuos]

“ There is hardly any need for rhetorics here, Bellum.”

Immortuos’s gaze shifted to the giant shade that had seemed to appear. A man adorned with fur cloak and clad with ebon armor. Brooding and assumingly unlearned. Whoever this newcomer was, he had failed to not only understand and comprehend but also to amuse the Overlord of pestilence.

There was no emotion shown as Immortuos took in the remark. That Darth Bellum and himself would talk the enemy to their graves. If Pestilence could not effect the spectre of war with his own infectious words then how much more would this brute?

A rotten yet toothy smile flashed wide toward Darth Veradun . “ The strike of a warrior may or may not kill a single person. But the stratagems devised by wise men can kill even babes in the womb.” He paused briefly.

“ Are you aware that silence is considered the virtue of fools? I thought not. Your ignorance appears self inflicted. Conversation is not only a path to thought, it is a tremendous and methodical weapon for thinking. Planning. Something you know nothing about.”

 

[Khamul Kryze]

Objective One

Khamul's vision tunneled, cutting out everything but the behemoth of a creature in front of him. As the creature reared its head, Khamul took a spiraling path around it, attempting to slice its flesh as he moved around its gargantuan body. The creature barely seemed to notice each strike against its flesh, only seeking to swat him from the sky with it's massive body. The beast swung around violently, eventually smashing into the Mandalorian, sending him flying into the frozen ground.

He had to take a moment to catch his breath. He had gotten lucky, the padding beneath his beskar had managed to prevent him from breaking his ribs, but it didn't stop him from feeling the ice smash into his back. He slowly picked himself back up, gazing up at the giant mass of alien flesh swaying before him. Such unspeakable strength...

There had to be a way to bring it down.

Khamul ignited his jetpack once again, flying back toward the beast. The creature turned, opening it's giant maw, as if to snatch him out of the air like a pestering insect...

Now was the moment.

Khamul flew straight toward the mouth of the beast, almost as if he were planning to flying straight through it. As the beast's jaws were about to come down around him, Khamul fired the missile from his jetpack, straight into it's gaping mouth. The creature reared back, letting out a terrifying screech. Khamul quickly changed course, moving away from his opponent. He wasn't sure if it would be enough, but he hoped that the missile would at least do some damage.

Only time would tell...

Kuric Taumin Kascalion Giedfield​