Invasion How Liberty Dies | GE Invasion of GA held Coruscant Super Hex

[Kaleb Sunwalker]

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Location: Temple Nexus Chamber/Shrine in the Depths
Allies/DSE Team: Voldran Molf Khronas Talon Draven
Enemies: NJO

They had finally come to it at last.

The seal ruptured, the dark side locked away for thousands of years, masked by the false light that tried to keep it sealed below was now free. The shadows could now rise to claim what had been stolen by the Jedi so long ago, the dark side would have its vengeful reckoning. A wide smirk continued to spread from ear to ear, with his arms still outstretched to direct the dark energy to spread. Move far beyond the chamber, with one hand raised to the levels above the Nexus chamber, the energy of the Nexus moved freely from the chamber, into the surrounding tunnels, moving to spread the dark side towards every chamber, and corner of the Temple. With the dark side nexus below allowed to rise to the surface, permeating the very ground the Elite stood upon. Waves of darkness kept bursting forth leaving an old, sickening aura rising slowly from the depths of the Nexus chamber and climbing to the top. If the Jedi hadn’t felt the terrible secret of the New Jedi Temple, they soon will.

Even as Kaleb was directing the flow of darkness kept bursting energy, his mind connected to his fellow Elite, and the inexhaustible energy of the Emperor coursing through his veins. The fallen Jedi completely lost himself to the dark side, his skin pale as the dead, eyes bright yellow while rage and hatred had consumed him, but even as he let himself go to the corrupting influence coming from this dark wellspring, there was some beauty in the suffering that Kaleb felt drawn towards.

“Do you see it? I-It’s more beautiful than I could have imagined…” He spoke as if the nexus had called to him, ensnared him into its tempting embrace. As the Jedi started to become aware, with a few starting to emerge from the highest levels of the Temple they failed to realize it was too little, too late. Even with all the power the Jedi Grandmaster could muster, it was futile against the combined might of the Elite, joined together as one to now unleash the beast kept hidden below. The Jedi themselves couldn’t undo what had been done, they couldn’t reseal an ancient nexus that had been created generations before them. How could they when a single spark was consumed by a growing void that would only continue to grow until the light had been snuffed out. Millennia of untapped Sith energy would be free to reclaim the Temple once more as always been intended.

However, unlike his brothers that had been eager to face their Jedi adversaries Kaleb was a different breed. As if the Sith Nexus, the dark whispers of Urr-Kittat had reached right through his ears. The former Jedi who hungered for knowledge forbidden to him, was now drawn to the Nexus. It whispered to him, as he looked back to the Elite and the Jedi.

“I-It’s calling to me… Do you not hear it?” He looked back and said none other to himself. To the others he sounded just as mad as ever, perhaps it was the old Kaleb coming out, or perhaps it was a Kaleb who could at last hear the dark heartbeat that called to him all his life. Compelled by this voice, slowly Sunwalker started to move forward, his feet felt heavy this time. As if the miasma of dark side energy was heavy sand that he was slowly sinking into. He could hear the nexus keep calling out to him, one foot followed the other.

“Kaleb…”

“Kaleb…”

“Kaleb…”

He could hear them more clearly, as if the whispers were touching his brain. He kept walking towards the center of the nexus, where light was had now turned into an all consuming void. Darkness surrounded it, bubbling like thick, black tar that was coating the durasteel, duracrete, and stone that made up the Temple floor. The runes on the walls illuminated the chamber in an eerie red glow, while Kaleb’s eyes flashed brightly with Sith yellow, given himself fully over to the dark side. The dark side itself clung to his body, his blood feeling power that could only be felt by few now the many who touched the darkness felt reinvigorated by the nexus.

The fallen one now stood over the pool of dark side energy that continued to flow freely. His face peering over, the shadows were quickly surrounding him. Through the minds of the Elite, through the all consuming power of the Emperor would Kaleb give in fully to the call of the void. His yellow gaze flashed brightly, his sickly veins became more apparent, for the dark side was warping Kaleb the closer he stood next to the Nexus.

“Yes! I see it, I feel it…” Kaleb said through a gasp, he leaned in, as if he felt compelled to look into what millennia old power had to offer. Then he saw flashes, pieces of the future. The roar of TIE fighters, Star Destroyers covered the skies. Dark side agents under the menacing silhouette of the Emperor, crimson blades ignited through the shadows followed by the ominous glow of yellow eyes just like the Emperor. Kaleb could witness himself, saw a changed version of himself, darker, stronger, powerful. A tool, an extension of the Emperors will. What was this? Was this the future? Was this now? Kaleb knew he was experiencing a Force Vision, but when he tried to look deeper into the veil, he saw the vision for a new Empire, his face shown his youthful appearance through the Nexus, now transformed more corrupted, more monstrous. The New Jedi Temple burned, covered in darkness, blanketed by the iron rule of the Imperial crest.

“Yes… I know… I know…. This Temple shall be a gift to our Emperor… A monument to his power…” He said as if he had a stunning moment of clarity, and then with another dark whisper he heard the void of darkness reach out to him, a hand reached forth and felt the cold. His body felt freezing when he touched the nexus. He gritted his teeth, his veins bulged as the darkness only increased inside of his body. The whispers told him not to fight the shadows. He stumbled away from the Nexus point. His head raised high, his arms stretched wide open. Instead of fighting the cold of the dark side, he embraced all of it. His yellow eyes slowly closed, a content smile on his face as he saw darkness, letting the dark side take control of him, letting it consume him, not filling him with venom but the fire he sought for so long. The nexus consuming him, he finally understood what it showed him. It wasn’t the future, no. This was no vision, but this was now. This was the shape of the things to come.

 

[Darth Bellum]

BELLUM CONTRA OMNES

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| Location | Force Nexus, Coruscant​

| Purpose | Bring Ruination and War​

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The atmosphere was abuzz with clashing energies, a tale as old as the Galaxy itself as light and darkness fought against one another, always at odds in an attempt to sway the balance in their own favor. It was in the heart of that storm that Bellum was able to continue to draw upon either side, his own being a maelstrom of different consciousness of Jedi, Sith and the ungifted - an outlier that stood above the Sea of Memories that his people often referred to when he was but a simple speck in the greater scope of the Galaxy. ​

​

Those who would draw upon his influence would receive his boons at a terrible cost. His touch would taint and leave a lingering impression of the Lord of War. Bellum felt it as Vulpesen drew upon and tapped into the well he fed off of. Flashes of indescribable pain and suffering wrought upon the Galaxy in visions of war and destruction by the hundreds if not thousands, a blur of faces, past, present, and future, all flooding the mind within a fraction of a second - a torrential flood of anguish and suffering felt within a heart's beat. For every episode of suffering and strife they have learned to overcome, weighed against thousands who succumbed to their weakness.​

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The Force once again wailed out in distress, the wound that Bellum left upon it becoming further infected.​

​

His dreaded visage would sear itself into their mind till their body turned to dust, an imprint of his despicable legacy left upon their soul. Now, for as long as they raised their blade, whether in defense to protect or to draw blood, they fed into his will - A wolf amongst sheep, forever cursed to perpetuate his desires and tithe unto him, a gnawing hunger that would linger in the mind. A gift and a curse to bear. ​

​

The air around Bellum's physical form seemed to distort, bending before shattering like unseen glass as the Force Stasis field that Nulgath Zardai created was broken, an overwhelming pressure overcoming its attempts to contain him. A shadowy silhouette peeled away from Darth Bellum, an apparition that appeared like a shadowy wraith to those who could not see clearly through the Force, but an unmistakable copy of the Lord of War, a separation of both his physical and immaterial form - a corporeal and incorporeal entity. Bellum spoke both aloud and in their minds,​

"I slept beneath your cities, beneath your bonds, and your borrowed dreams. You thought your light and hope could hold me, that time would have dulled me. But I do not rot...I do not fade. I have listened as your kind whispered itself to sleep, the lies you have uttered to convince yourselves that you are the heroes and saviors. But you are not... I will pull the bones from your bodies, the breath from your lungs, the lies from your mouths."​

​

As the Jedi before him spoke, he simply retorted.​

​

" Good... Defy me with all your might, let me savor the taste of your will upon my whetted blade. Entertain me with your feeble antics. Steel and skill are my prayers child, death and war my altars. Fight me because the Galaxy needs warriors willing to stand between me and the annihilation of the weak. I rise, not in anger, hatred, or for the sake of reigning chaos. But in certainty. Certainty that even if you somehow managed to best me, that you will forever be marked by my touch and spread my will. Like Irveric Tavlar and all those who followed him, every legacy they left behind a tribute to my hunger. Destined to become my wolves."​

​

For every step that Alexandra Feanor took forward, so did the incorporeal form that manifested itself, mirroring every movement and action made like a dark twin countering her actions in carefully calculated, equal measure.​

​

" I have lived long before the Force ever thought to conceive you, and I will exist long after you are nought but ashes and dust. Break yourself against me and witness true power. "​

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[Sid Berik]

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Coruscant – Upper Levels
Drop Pod Deployment – Comm Silence Active
Death Trooper Squad "Vanta Six"
Operatives: , DT-1966 , DT-7747 , DT-1966 l Abraxas Colt l Veno
ADJACENT: Braze

A GOOD DAY​

The shields went down, for just a moment- flickering. Backup power generators, not controlled from a single fuse box, spurted. But the explosions cut off the circulation of power. Whoever had meddled with the power grid helped the Empire. Sid was unaware who, or what did. It didn't matter.

The mission was complete.

The skies above Coruscant were awash with light and shapes, dark streaks of black and white TIE fighters looming over the red sky. He gave himself a moment to look up in victory, in perfect execution of a dangerous mission. The Deathtroopers, however, had a pressing matter of the defense of the station.

The firefight was fast, brutal, and costly- for the Alliance. Their entrenched position at the power station was a nightmare to assault from. And the Alliance pushed forward still, determined to re-engage the planetary shield. They were unfortunately unaware of their folly- the station wasn't just disabled, it was now destroyed. The operative had done as commanded. Sid leaned against one of the many railings and half-walls that littered the landscape, and peaked around the corner. His troopers returned fire, and he did so as well.

He leaned his head away from the wall when a torrent of blaster fire ripped the wall he was standing against nearly to pieces. He pivoted on his inner foot, snapping himself around the corner. His rifle went off, dropping three more Alliance troops. Ineffective assaults. Desperate. They wanted to win. But they weren't willing to be violent enough to attain it.

The firefight lasted almost ten minutes- agonizingly so, as he saw one of his Troopers get hit multiple times. Fearing the end, however- the Trooper rose, the armor taking the brunt of, if not all of, the damage. Or- he shook the thought away. After a while, the Alliance assaulters pulled back. Too many losses. Sid was the first to pull himself from cover. It was quiet now, at least, where they were. Only the tense silence after an intense bout of combat like that remained. He reached up to his helmet, popping it off his head. The wind blew through his hair, helping alleviate the sweat-soaked skin under his helmet.

He turned to look at the other Deathtroopers, smiling.

"What a wonderful day."

He looked up at the TIE fighters and other ships beginning to encroach on the planet.

The Empire had come.

 

[Ysennia Lee]

Lt. Col. Ysennia Lee | 42nd Assault
Gear: GADU-50 Officer Uniform w/ helmet and chest plate | AT-NB5 Blaster Pistol
Indirect: Kael Dane​

Monument Plaza was slowly turning into a brawl as the imps have breached the perimeter. The GADF and Senate guards were doing everything they could to beat back the Stormtroopers that were pushing them into the interior. Wounded troops and reserves were firing from the windows of tattered buildings. Gunships were on the way to get these people safe. But they could not let doubt cloud their survivability. Captain Farresh had ordered her men to do a slow retreat further into the plaza and re-established themselves around where the remaining civilians were being kept. She held her line along with what remained of her men. They were holding the line, if barely. But they wouldn't let themselves falter.

But as if a stroke of luck had occurred. The four gunships of Howler company had swooped in and blasted their way on the edges of the perimeter. More space was created between the imperials and the GADF, a perimeter was formed with the gunships keeping a few inches above the ground so that they gunships could perform a quick ascent. There weren't many civilians left. In fact there were more wounded than civilians. The senate guards had unfortunately suffered more casualties than the Alliance troops. There weren't much to evacuate but what matters is that everyone left would leave alive. The gunships would fly back to where the Stormpiercer assembly area was.

The fighting around the temple was fierce. But Ysennia breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the civilians had gotten away scott free. They did something right, not including the heavy resistance they put up as the empire swarmed the temple. For the Stormpiercers would not back down. When people would look back at the second invasion of Coruscant, Ysennia would ensure that the memory of her troops who had fallen would be remembered as the ones who were there when the temple faced its onslaught by the empire. How they saved lives when it would push them to their limits.

And she hoped that no matter what happened, the imperials will have the winged arrow burned into their retinas. Because the 42nd Battalion were the ones who would face the storm and had the power to clear the skies.

 

[Rann Thress]

TAGS: Rikuan Everest Vale
EQUIPMENT: Rann's Lightsabers

It worked like a charm again. Rikuan soared through the air towards the enemy and began to wreak havoc as Eve moved to join him. Rann smiled with delight. Who knew teamwork could be so much fun?
He sprinted after the Makurian, exhaling forcefully as he pushed his body and joined the fray. He kept one hilt on his belt, focusing instead on deflecting with the single blade as he worked to close the gap between the three of them.

With each of them covering eachother, they'd be almost unkillable. Both of their styles, when Rann got a chance to turn and look, were both impressive and interesting to see. Eve continued to move with fluidity. Rikuan moved more...erratically. But with purpose. You could see the method behind the madness. Versus Rann's more blunt, straightforward saber work? It was a fun contrast to behold, he was sure.

Then, something pulled Eve away, something she noticed. "Rikuan," Rann called out as he started to move, determined to make sure they still covered each other as much as possible. Then he saw what it was she was approaching, a youngling cowering in a corner.
I see,
Rann surged forward. If Eve was going to peel off, someone had to draw fire. He unclipped his second saber and roared loudly.
The scream wasn't just a war cry...it was bait. The soldiers turned, blasters trained, and opened fire. Bolts tore through the air. One clipped his arm. The burn flared hot, and he hissed through clenched teeth, stumbling back.
Pain surged through him like lightning, and the Force followed. With a grimace, Rann through his hands forward and let it go.
The push thundered forward, ripping through the squad ahead like a crashing wave. Bodies flew. Blasters scattered, and with the new space it created, and the time he needed to buy bought, it was time to fall back.

Rann cradled his wound, ever careful about the placement of his lightsaber blade, and moved to regroup just in time to hear Eve.

"On me. We’ve got younglings pinned upstairs."

"Got it," he responded, falling back again, "So what's the plan with these guys? Younglings are the priority, right? Let's go get 'em!" He said as he continued to give ground. He kept an eye on Rikuan as well, making sure that no matter where Rann was, Rikuan remained in sight.

 

[Talon Draven]

Objective: Corrupt the Nexus
Location: Jedi temple, Coruscant
Tags: Voldran Molf | Kaleb Sunwalker | Khronas | Darth Bellum | Darth Solipsis

He could feel it. A breath escaped his lips, hidden by his own mask as he looked towards the Nexus. The Darkness erupted throughout, looking for any nook to bury itself in and call it home. He watched as Kaleb directed it through the temple, through the halls surrounding them and around themselves as well. His brother in arms was overcome with it, while Talon himself hadn't felt this raw power in years.

He stayed knelt in his position from when he had taken it during the ritual and looked down at his saber's hilt. They had done it. They had been strong enough to defeat what was deemed undefeatable. Talon's presence was as though he was a ghost. His brothers before him held in fight and the other in darkness and another still in the same pose as he. He was akin to such chaos. This was home. He looked up from his saber and towards the Nexus where they had poured their minds and souls into it and unsealed it from it's prison. Talon let the chaos go on around him as he took a deep breath and straightened up from his position of awe. Bowing deeply before it, Talon closed his eyes.

"A gift bestowed upon you, Master. For without you we would not have succeeded," he said to no one but the one who would listen. He was his Master's weapon, an extension of his will and a student above all else. Sitting back up straight, Talon grabbed his saber and afixed it to his belt and stood up.

They would sing praises of their doing here today for years to come. The people of Coruscant would no longer be subjected to the slavery and selfishness of the Jedi. They would be free. Watching Kaleb divulge himself into the Darkness, Talon could do nothing. He would fully understand how they were protected, how they were given their strength. Turning his head to look over at Voldran who was locked between the Darkness itself and a female. It was not his battle to partake in nor would he reap the reward of killing someone who would have a disadvantage. Khronas' figure was also just as calm as he was. As if he was waiting for more to happen, just in case. Still, Talon closed his eyes and let the power consume him in that dark blanket.

He remembered the feeling as a child when he was cast out from his parents and home. 'He holds a darkness. We will not accept him.' The voice rang out as he sneered some in disgust. No one wanted him but his Master and his brothers and sisters in arms. The Jedi and his family forsook him. Allowed him to be cast out and left to rot in the wilderness until a man came and showed him kindness unlike the others. He could feel the anger in his chest boiling in violence as the darkness coaxed him to reveal more. His eyes snapped open, he would not succumb to blind rage and anger. That would do no good and would make him falter from what he had built up.

Casting his hand forward and allowing his body to relax, he could feel the Force of his people coming.

The Empire was here.

Coruscant would be theirs.

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Okuma Milogen Veno Sid Berik DT-1966 DT-7747 Abraxas Colt

The shields flickered and went down briefly before the backup generators kicked in. That was fine. All he had to do was move to the—

There was a sudden detonation in the distance. It was the first in a chain of explosions that rolled outward like thunder, low and deep and spreading fast.

The tower Braze had been working on took substantial damage as the war raged not far below. The whole structure trembled beneath his feet. He felt it shift. Somewhere deep inside the steel bones, something gave.

The Force tried to warn him. A sharp tug in his chest, like it was trying to pull him away from the edge. But the warning had come too late.

The floor beneath him dropped out as the support buckled. One moment he was standing near the edge, and the next he was falling. The floor lurched sideways and his boots caught nothing but air as the railing gave way, brittle and rusted, and he went tumbling over it into a cloud of debris and dust.

The tower was coming down around him. Twisting metal groaned as shattered concrete burst. Sparks from overloaded relays arced and hissed through the air as he fell.

He reached for the Force, his breath catching. He tried to slow himself in the decent, trying desperately to guide the fall and to push the wreckage away. It answered him, but weakly. His focus was fractured as his grip slipped. He hit the ground hard.

The street came up fast and the impact rattled through his whole body, jarring every bone and stealing the breath from his lungs. A slab of duracrete slammed down across his legs and chest pinning him where he landed. The weight pressed down so suddenly and completely that he couldn't even tell what had broken. It all just hurt.

He stayed still for a moment, teeth clenched, somber jade green eyes squinting against the dust that swirled above him. His whole body trembled, every part of him shivering with shock and fatigue. His arms twitched at his sides but didn't have the strength to push the slab off.

The world around him roared over head. Something deeper inside his ears whined a blaring sort of sound that wasn't fading, sounding long and sharp and endless. He blinked slowly as he tried to orient himself and tried to breathe.

Above him, the sky opened wide to his eyes.

Fires streaked through the atmosphere as star fighters and battle ships tore through the clouds. Trails of light moved like veins across the dusky clouds. Orange and red, black and gold. The sky looked like it was bleeding and lit up with colorful streaks of blaster fire.

Braze could only lie there, staring up at it all near deaf to the sounds of war all around him... It was surreal.

He couldn't move, and he couldn't speak. And he certainly couldn't reach the rendezvous to meet back up with Okuma Milogen ... He had no idea where Okuma was, or if he even made it out of the temple.

Maybe the others made it out.... Maybe they didn't. He didn't know. And for the moment, he couldn't do anything about it.

So he just lay there, chest rising and falling with each shaky breath, ribs aching beneath the weight of the rubble.

The air smelled like scorched metal and burning circuits. Somewhere nearby, another tower collapsed in on itself, and a ship streaked low overhead. The ground trembled beneath him again... this was very much a purgatory he couldn't free himself from.

​

 

[Nulgath Zardai]

Location: Nexus
Allies: Alexandra Feanor Vulpesen
Enemies: Darth Bellum
​

The Force once again wailed out in distress, the wound that Bellum left upon it becoming further infected. His dreaded visage would sear itself into their mind till their body turned to dust, an imprint of his despicable legacy left upon their soul. Now, for as long as they raised their blade, whether in defense to protect or to draw blood, they fed into his will - A wolf amongst sheep, forever cursed to perpetuate his desires and tithe unto him, a gnawing hunger that would linger in the mind. A gift and a curse to bear. The air around Bellum's physical form seemed to distort, bending before shattering like unseen glass as the Force Stasis field that Nulgath Zardai created was broken, an overwhelming pressure overcoming its attempts to contain him. A shadowy silhouette peeled away from Darth Bellum, an apparition that appeared like a shadowy wraith to those who could not see clearly through the Force, but an unmistakable copy of the Lord of War, a separation of both his physical and immaterial form - a corporeal and incorporeal entity. Bellum spoke both aloud and in their minds,

"I slept beneath your cities, beneath your bonds, and your borrowed dreams. You thought your light and hope could hold me, that time would have dulled me. But I do not rot...I do not fade. I have listened as your kind whispered itself to sleep, the lies you have uttered to convince yourselves that you are the heroes and saviors. But you are not... I will pull the bones from your bodies, the breath from your lungs, the lies from your mouths."​

As the Jedi before him spoke, he simply retorted.

" Good... Defy me with all your might, let me savor the taste of your will upon my whetted blade. Entertain me with your feeble antics. Steel and skill are my prayers child, death and war my altars. Fight me because the Galaxy needs warriors willing to stand between me and the annihilation of the weak. I rise, not in anger, hatred, or for the sake of reigning chaos. But in certainty. Certainty that even if you somehow managed to best me, that you will forever be marked by my touch and spread my will. Like Irveric Tavlar and all those who followed him, every legacy they left behind a tribute to my hunger. Destined to become my wolves."​

For every step that Alexandra Feanor took forward, so did the incorporeal form that manifested itself, mirroring every movement and action made like a dark twin countering her actions in carefully calculated, equal measure.

" I have lived long before the Force ever thought to conceive you, and I will exist long after you are nought but ashes and dust. Break yourself against me and witness true power. "​

The undead epicanthix's grasp over the stasis field rebounded. Immense pressure complied till Nulgaths own senses relayed the practical back to his psyche. Let it go. With a gesture, his hand dropping to his side once more, the walking corpse raised his head inspecting the scene and the darkness the surrounded the chamber within.

It had happened. The jedi temple corrupted and over taken. No. Not over taken, restored back to its original form. He was no fool. For many months Nulgath knew and read about the original construction of Coruscants Jedi temple. The masked darkside nexus that was buried below. A mask that had been torn off by agents of darkness. Agents like Bellum?

Tilting his head and approaching slowly, Nulgath could not help but ponder something. I dont think I've heard Bellum speak as much as he is now. The darkness surrounded the Lord of Rot, but its effects did little to effect him or his mind. No doubt due to his inherent mental capabilities. Even in undeath, Nulgath remained epicanthix. Practically immune to mental intrusions and tricks of the mind. Even now he could not even comprehend the sheer effects of what was going on. The only constant was the grit and solemn reminder of Darth Bellum's presence and ethereal voice echoing about. the chamber. What he could comprehend was a stirring within.

An itch that festered across his chest. A single scar that caused him to tremble slightly as if in response. Underneath the gray decaying flesh, something slithered about, burrowing through his torso like a vine. Though he could not exactly feel it. He was very aware of his body and the sudden urge to scream. Locking his jaw he attempted to contain himself. And his passions. Jaw working up and down gnawing on the inside of his own cheek. Saliva tainted with black and crimson leaked out with each bite of restraint. A leak that Nulgath wiped away promptly before falling to one knee and wrestled a different kind of struggle.

​

 

[Kain Aldore]

Direct: Da'Razel Kelig Ward
Nearby: Darth Solipsis Sahar Ren Ran Serys Caelan Valoren | Katherine Holt Ellayina L'lerim

He'd need to come up with a new plan. Fast. His force barrier was holding, but if he needed to focus on his fight at any time in the near future. He wasn't sure he'd be able to balance his internal scales that well. Raising his saber, Kain dropped his center of gravity. He reared up and was on the verge of leaping towards Da'Razel. Building the force in the soles of his feet. He took a single step forward. Then his head snapped to the side.

It felt like there was a large bug crawling on his back, unpleasant in every way imaginable. Yet regardless of how insignificant it felt, and how much he'd rather just charge down the threat In front of him. Something in his gut said: Turn and swat it.

He let his saber fall, dragging gravity into a swing as he twisted hips building momentum. His eyes barely caught a glimpse of the red bolt as it passed through the window and screamed towards him. The green blade of his saber came up. And the bolt? Wasn't deflected that well. It razed the side of his blade and seared the top of his forearm. Superficial because of the barrier, but none the less painful.

Even worse now. His back was turned away from Da'Razel. But he'd take the bad position and roll with it. His eyes scanning the skyline. maybe it was the mechanic in him, but small details out of place were his forte. So he scanned and waited. If Da'Razel came, he'd toque his hip outwards and swing his saber like a hammer. Because regardless. "Of course it wasn't a fair fight."

Maybe someone else saw the shot. Maybe they'd do something about it. If not, he'd handled it.

 

[Nathan Bloodscrawl]

Ession, Gulag Era

Fall of The Bloodscrawls

The First Death of Nathan Bloodscrawl.


Alja Rippen ferociously engaged Nathan, pushing him through the Castle. Alja, already in immense pain from the lightsaber cuts Nathan had inflicted to her face as well as the head butt he had inflicted early, plus, her anger at his incapacitation of her Padawan, made it very difficult to focus like she normally would have.

This novice, this heretic, had inflicted blows on her that actual Sith had never managed or only dreamt about. She dominated the fight...yet he was still getting those hits in.

What she felt from the boy wasn't rage. It was something colder, something ready to disregard everything, even it's own life, just to see her dead.

Seeing her dead had nothing to do with hatred. This went so far beyond typical emotion. It went beyond revenge.

In Nathan's heretical mind, this was simply balancing the scales. In a way it made a twisted sort of sense...

But she would still strike him down. She must. He was too dangerous to let live. He would always hold the Jedi responsible rather than his own blood for the outcome of today. His heresy, his sense of betrayal, his ego, would only grow.

Nathan let himself be driven into a security control room. Alja had disabled Castle defenses from a room just like this when she had gotten a master security code from him by way of a Hapan Gun of Command.

Nathan slapped her blade into the computer monitors. She knew the way to shut down the prime security , but she had never thought to ask him about the back ups.

It would be the start of her undoing.

She struck at him, losing some of her prior strategy due to the head and face injuries, her sense of humiliation at the heretic's hands, and his quiet refusal to die until she herself was dead making her frustration build.

Nathan ducked suddenly and leg sweeped her and her head flew face first into what turned out to be a hidden panel on a nearby stone wall. A failsafe mechanism only a Bloodscrawl would know about.

A loud, wailing, air siren alarm rang out throughout the castle grounds.

Nathan held back from striking, going into a Soresu guard as Alja rose.

"What...what is that? What did you just do?!" Alja demanded.

"I didn't do jack chit. That thick skull of yours did..." Nathan replied coldly. "Look at the monitor to the outside."

Alja looked...and her mouth dropped as the plains exploded from the half ton napalm mines lain all around the castle. The Essonian infantry was almost completely engulfed in Napalm flames, the surviving Bloodscrawls having teleported just out of range of the blast that left the plains an ocean of fire around the giant castle. Elaine could be seen leading the few hundred survivors in the immediate inner perimeter of the Castle in a final storming attempt, which was why she was out of the blast range.

"Just as you tricked me into dooming my family, I have tricked you into blowing your wretched Ashlan comrades all the way to the hell that they so richly deserve for their trespass..." Nathan sneered, watching her wounded face contort in unfathomable rage.

"We make such a good team, don't we?" he asked cruelly.

He denied Alja the satisfaction of contact with his blade retreating as she furiously slashed for him with an inhuman shriek. But he would not meet her blade, as he had another idea. He would change the venue of her execution. He teleported out of her reach, taunting her by sticking his tongue out at her. This had the desired effect as she broke into a dead charge for Nathan in the distant passage through the bodies of BMC Security Teams, and fallen Essonian infantry, surviving members of Nathan's family butchering what was left of the invasion force with vicious teleport attacks aided by no less than Nathan's father and mother.

Nathan ran to the one last major secret his family had besides how to find the Super Weapon...

...and that was the Bloodscrawl Holocron Vault.

It was hidden behind a set of Clone Wars Era Jedi Armor. He twisted the torch sconce next to it until he heard a click, Alja hot on his heels as he entered.

Alja stopped, sensing the high level of Force Energy within, wondering how the Bloodscrawls hid this.

Their secrecy and therefore their treachery, must know very few bounds, she decided, speeding after Nathan.

She saw rows of twinkling, cube shaped Holocrons of every color. She had heard the stories of the Holocron vault on Coruscant. If her estimates were right this was only a quarter of that vault's size.

That was still a LOT of Holocrons...

"Once more you demonstrate your family's secretive greed!" Alja called out. "A nice little library of Holocrons all to yourself, with NO oversight! And you dare claim your family as victims!?"

"Knowledge is not for the fanatic. It is not to be shared with them." Nathan said from somewhere in the darkness of the vault, throwing his voice.

Alja's pink blade was held in front of her. She felt her student Tiberius awaken finally and start making a beeline for her.

"All of this will be rightfully reclaimed by The Ashlan faith. Your family name will be ripped from every record and RIGHTFULLY condemned as the murderers you are! YOU WILL BE FORGOTTEN!" Alja swore vehemently.

"The Ashlans will never touch one single Holocron in this vault. Do you know why?" Nathan asked rhetorically.

"Because I've set the self destruct sequence."

He teleported around her from every angle, ruthlessly attacking every target zone on her body as a ray shield went up over the entrance she had used to enter.

Alja expertly defended against his blows, deflecting every single last one of them, even as her horror grew at the fact he was perfectly willing to die, and to destroy all this knowledge, just to kill her.

He wasn't one who cared if he even got a blow in. It was just to hold her in place for about ten seconds.

Ten seconds, she realized, was all he had needed.

The chamber exploded in all directions, each Holocron being destroyed and sending shrapnel everywhere.

The ceiling came down and both of them were partially caught in the blasts...

When Alja came to, she cried out, feeling an arm broken, and she saw Nathan standing over her, half of his lightsaber gone, covered in shrapnel wounds. He was clearly badly wounded. His injuries might even be fatal.

For an instant, past her pride, Alja was deeply self conscious of the role she had played in turning Nathan into this implacable, bleeding out creature before her, willing to destroy a vault of priceless knowledge to kill one person.

Nathan said nothing as he brought the still functioning half of his yellow temple guard saber down...

It was blocked by a green blade. Tiberius Demici had arrived just in time to block the fatal strike.

"Brave of you, Ashlan. I'd have thought you'd have taken the hint..." Nathan choked out, blood dribbling out of his mouth.

"I never bother to read the intentions of heretics..." Tiberius snapped. "You have no hope left, Bloodscrawl."

"Didn't your mother ever bother to warn you about someone like me?" Nathan asked, forcing his wounded body to work through sheer will rather than any act of the Force.

"I heard it said once that a man without hope...is a man without fear..." Nathan hissed, his insides on fire.

"Let's test that notion..." Tiberius replied

"Demici!" Alja yelled, tossing him her saber. Pink and green were soon swiping at solid yellow in the ruined Holocron vault.

Nathan staggered back, gradually weakening from the relentless swipes and slashes, kept in the game only by his refusal to die until Alja did and his knowledge of Soresu. But he had no fear.

Even mortally wounded, Nathan vowed, he would cut the boy his age down. His honor, his loyalty to his family DEMANDED it.

Nathan felt absolutely no fear as he pushed his wounded body, muscles aching, screaming for rest, screaming to die, the concussion in his head threatening to make him vomit with each block, each parry, as he felt Demici grow more frustrated, still angry over Nathan's earlier humiliation of him.

Their blades locked.

"One chance, Ashlan. Walk away." Nathan demanded.

"Never, heretic..."

"THEN JOIN HER!!!" Nathan snapped, mustering all his remaining bodily stamina to twist their blades to the side and slam his head hard into Demici's nose, shattering it, pouncing as Demici stumbled back.

Nathan's blade moved in a perfect circle when in range, first through Demici's neck, then his limbs as Demici tried to take a defensive stance.

A quintuple Mou Kei.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Alja screamed as the remains of Tiberius clattered into a pile before Nathan, who destroyed both Demici's saber and her own and advanced on her.

Alja screamed, her arm taking an instinctive clawed gesture as Nathan felt his insides starting to break.

"READY TO DIE?!" Alja screamed, having gone completely insane like his brother Samuel had.

"I...was born ready...motherfether..." Nathan gasped

"THEN DIE, HERETIC!!! DIE DIE DIE DIE DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!" Alja screamed, giving herself completely to the Dark Side to get satisfaction.

Nathan dropped his shoto, knowing he had one play left.

As it tumbled, he teleported the falling blade above her outstretched arm and the still active blade tumbled through it. She screamed in agony as her arm was severed, not knowing Nathan was so powerful he could teleport objects as well as himself. He could also teleport people, but he had refrained from using that the entire time, knowing it was an ace up his sleeve. He dropped to the ground, everything in him shuddering painfully from the impact.

Alja stumbled back, falling to the ground. Nathan forced himself up, grabbing his lightsaber before it could burn through the floor and shutting it off. He clipped what was left of it to his damaged, torn, burnt robes...

The pistol and the laser knife tumbled from his sleeve, he tossed it with his remaining might to her remaining, broken arm, causing her more pain. He felt no anger, no hate, no joy, nor even a grim satisfaction.

All that mattered was winning. If any of you reading wonder where Laertia got it from, look no further.

"Should anyone learn of this, I will undoubtedly be condemned for betraying the Code in what I did to defeat you. And perhaps rightfully so. Perhaps I deserve to be condemned for what I did." Nathan admitted dispassionately.

"Not just for my error in letting you through the security field, but for what I did in response. My actions here...they will always follow me..."

Nathan raised the pistol towards her enraged, disfigured face.

"That being said..." he trailed. "You have broken every last ounce of etiquette there can be in these sorts of conundrums. It would have been one thing had you been honest, announced your intentions, laid siege to my family directly from the start instead of using subterfuge. I might have been willing to abide the code then. I might have been willing to leave you alive in your mangled state. I might have even been willing to let your apprentice live. But you acted like Vermin. So you will get the death that Vermin deserve--death by blaster bolt, like a common thug in the Underworks. When you used my knowledge, my trust, to bring ruin to my household and seize a weapon you would never have been able to control...you and everyone that showed up...you forfeited your right to the Code's protection. It's mercy. But it might amuse you to know, in your final moments, that you have taught me one concrete lesson; The Code? It's more a set of helpful suggestions than hard rules. And if I live through this day, I will always treat them as such--suggestions. And while most days I will be more than happy to abide by those suggestions...this is not one of those days."

"I HATE YOUUUUUU!" Alja screamed in defiance.

"This is not vengeance...revenge is not a valid motive, it's an emotional response...no...not vengeance..." Nathan said, aiming at her face.

"Punishment..." he said a moment later.

(THIS PLAYS)

Nathan fired several times, killing Alja Rippen. Someday, he would be responsible for the death of her Master, Elaine Tear.

And then it would be done.

Nathan walked out of the destroyed Holocron vault to a dying down but still fierce slaughter. He was too tired, in too much pain to even weep at the death of his family.

There were still stragglers. He staggered to where he felt his parents, still wanting to help in spite of his terrible injuries.

He somehow almost sleep walked through the horrific slaughter still taking place. Of his entire family, only a few remained alive.

He spotted them in the dining hall. His father, Angus was bleeding everywhere in his black armor, like his mother, both dueling a heavily wounded Elaine Tear as she effortlessly parried, surrounded by the dead from both sides in horrific piles.

He couldn't move, realizing his father had sensed him at a distance, and was freezing him in place to prevent him from dying with his parents like part of him wanted to.

His Mother's head came off from a swipe of Elaine's blue blade and Nathan was in so much pain he couldn't even scream as Angus died seconds later, impaled by Elaine.

An explosion from one of the remaining artillery pieces outside shattered the dining hall as his parents fell, and he saw a large chunk of the stone ceiling strike Elaine on the head before the shrapnel blinded him.

Everything hurt.

His world was pain.

And his heart was broken.

Nathan felt hands lift him and he drew his remaining half of his lightsaber still ready to fight.

But he knew, deep down, his failure this day, despite defeating Rippen, was total and utter.

"Cousin! WAIT! It's me!" his cousin, a young man named Aradel said, flanked by heavily wounded BMC Security.

"I am...ready..." Nathan said. "...to serve...my... family..."

"You've done enough serving..." Aradel said. "We have to get you out of here. The hangar is gone... there's only one place left.

Nathan forced himself to stand, helped up by his cousin, wearing torn black body armor.

"We're gonna destroy this place...they'll never no how to find the weapon, no matter how hard they search the ruins. There may be a way to save you though..." Aradel said wearily. "The Castle Undercrypts..."

"Not... running..." Nathan said, half delirious.

"You can't even see, cousin..." Aradel said. "No more. To the Undercrypts. I have heard rumors of that place. Felt something in there, occasionally...you..." Aradel trailed, clearly hesitant. He knew something, and seemed to be wrestling with himself on whether to subject one of his only remaining family to whatever waited him before signing in resignation.

"Force forgive me... Nathan...you may have to cut a deal..."

He gestured to the security teams.

"Take him there..."

"Want to stay...must...fight..." Nathan almost begged...

Aradel teared up at this. He placed a hand on Nathan's shoulder.

"I know. Never stop fighting, Nathan. No matter where you go after today...never stop fighting..."

The security team helped carry a too weak to resist Nathan away from Aradel, who went on to fight the remaining infantry to the death...but not before he would go and activate the remaining self destruct devices.

Nathan was carried through the ruined Castle, unable to resist. Everything felt like mush on the inside. Like he could fall apart any second.

They moved quickly to the Undercrypts...just as Essonian infantry squads spotted them.

"GO, BOY! RUN! RUNNNNNNN!" One of the BMC team members yelled. Nathan was ashamed at not being able to remember his name as he descended the steps the blasts from self destruct devices in the ceiling collapsing on everyone else just as Nathan stumbled away in time, looking in blind panic.

Nathan hadn't been good enough. He hadn't been skilled enough.

The Castle burned around him, as other members of the Bloodscrawl family, and their loyalists fell. He had seen enough that he wished to see no more. The explosion had obliged him and now he stumbled about blindly, his mental conditioning failing him and giving way to blind fear and panic as he tried to get away from the fighting.

His parents had died. His older brother had died. His younger sister had as well. soon all the remaining Bloodscrawls would fall, and the Ashlans would scour the castle for the secrets to a prize that they would never find. He had no idea what to do. The fourteen-year-old Nathan, up to this point, had been training to fight Sith.

He had never imagined the blow would come from his own side. His sense of betrayal and shock coursed through him like venom as he stumbled about the burning castle, going wherever the sounds of fighting were not.

He tripped and fell down a steep incline, scrambled back up with his broken temple guard lightsaber pike and walked carefully, feeling out walls and surfaces as the sounds of fighting grew more distant.

The musty smell told him he was in the crypts. He had crossed into there once, only to be immediately ordered out by his Father, warning him to never go there.

He had no choice now. Everything hurt. Better to face the unknown than to face certain death.

He moved deeper and deeper, body and head and mind wracked with pain. Despair clawed at him.

He didn't realize how quiet it was until he heard his own rapid breathing with crystal clarity...

"Poor boy...betrayed by his own people...."

Nathan wheeled around.

"Who's there?" he called out, eyes bleeding down his face.

"Someone who has been trapped here a very long time boy. Far too long. Step closer..."

Nathan guarded with the only working end of his blade, its yellow light shining in the darkness, making his blood covered face take on an unearthly quality to it.

"Do not fear, boy. If I was one of the Ashlans, we wouldn't be talking...and unless we aid one another, then neither of us leave...the ones after you would surely kill me as well..."

"You say you are trapped. Trapped how? By whom?" he asked, trying to think and focus on the pain. But it was his nature to try and survive.

"Antony Bloodscrawl." the woman answered. "He bound me to this place, with ancient Jedi Sorcery."

"Then you are a Heretic." Nathan concluded. "And a dangerous one."

"Perhaps. But I am also your only way out."

"If you are released, there is nothing to stop you from simply killing me."

"You are going to die anyway..." she pointed out. "So therefore, you have nothing to lose in letting me go free."

Little did the owner of that voice know that the reasoning she had just given him would haunt him at the very end of his days with Lysandra...

"Nathan Arnold Bloodscrawl..." the Blood Sorceress called out to a young, blinded teenage boy too injured to fight.

"Are you ready to bargain?"

The young boy, barely 14, turned his head up at the living avatar of blood, fashioned in the crude likeness of an elderly woman, made of pure blood, standing atop the basin.

Nathan made his decision..

"I agree..." He snapped...

"There is a price for survival. There always is..." The Blood Sorceress told Nathan.

"You must be rebuilt. From the ground up. As you are, you shall never survive..." the Blood Avatar spoke as though her voice issued from underwater. The blood her whole body was composed of rippled and shuddered on the surface.

Nathan activated the broken half of his temple guard pike, the yellow, Shoto length blade sliding out and he jammed the blade against the wards that kept her imprisoned withing the basin, the runes burning up. The Sorceress of Blood flowed out of the Basin.

"You have released me, so I shall keep my word, young Padawan..." the Sorceress proclaimed. "The Force is strong with you. A powerful weapon, you shall be..."

The Sorceress stretched out her hand, and droplets of blood fell from her crude limb and hit the ground, causing the spots they hit to smoulder and burn, the ground collapsed into a boiling liquid slurry of dirt and Force Spawn Blood .

"Your injuries are too severe to escape on your own. You shall surely be cut dead by the Ashlans." The Sorceress said, her body of blood warping violently a moment.

"This is your only chance to escape Ession alive. But Nathan Bloodscrawl must be left here. The one who leaves Ession must have a spirit of stone and the strength of a giant.

The Blind boy listened to this.

"Will I become like you?"

"Even were I a Dark Side User, I would not be so cruel as to inflict such a fate..." The Sorceress said. "But you will not be the same person coming out as when you went in."

Nathan started to take a step forward, the creaking and thuds above signalling how terrible the battle had been above.

The Sorceress flowed to his side as a blood puddle, reforming her crude blood avatar.

She put her hand on his shoulder.

"Think very carefully before you step into there. The consequences can never be undone."

"What choice do I have?" Nathan asked.

"You can choose to die. Not a happy ending. But you will go as yourself."

"I'll not dishonor the ones who died to buy me time..." Nathan said firmly, the pain in his insides worsening. He realized he had internal bleeding. Minutes to live, at most

"As you wish..." The Sorceress said, withdrawing her hand.

Nathan took another step forward, refusing to go back up and join his parents.
He waded into the boiling put of dirt and blood, yet felt no pain.

The Sorceress raised her hands, and multiple arms formed from the pit, pulling him down swiftly and silently.

After a minute, a hand silently stretched out from the enchanted pit. The Sorceress ripped an old red banner from the wall, ripping a thick square off and tossed it to the hand.

The hand caught it and slowly sank into the pit.

(THIS plays)

The boy that stepped out of the pit had a stiff, mechanical walk, the blood and dirt sliding off his form as though it had never been there. The makeshift bandana he had formed from the torn family banner covering the lower half of his face, bloodied, scarred eyes healed, but left a sightless, milky white, messy dark hair made messier. He did not speak, his walk silent as he turned to face her.

The Sorceress had used her magic to alter the rest of the banner she had torn for him. Forming through her magic a long red gown from the material that her bloody mass flowed into, reforming into an elderly, human looking blonde woman .

She approached, touching his forehead.

"I am the Sorceress of Ossus, Fragment of Natalee, who herself was a Fragment of Alaatha. I extract a Life Debt from you forevermore, that you will not slay me. You are sworn to honor to never break this debt. You shall travel as a Padawan-Errant, and quell the dark heresies of the Sith. You are no longer Nathan Bloodscrawl. The Ashla commands me to name you Morris Crownwraithe."

A red Alliance Starbird appeared on his forehead, vanishing just as quickly.

"From this day forth, you shall be estranged from the Religion of Ession. You shall always regard it's soil as a curse to walk on. The enjoyment of wealth, of prosperity, shall be anathema to you. You shall obey the Force and the Jedi Code. I declare you a stranger to all else save the others who follow me. You shall live as a bane to those who would follow The Dark Side. You will sleep, but your only dream shall be to wake to do your duty. You will eat, and drink, but derive no satisfaction. The sweetest air will be dust to your nostrils. The coldest water shall be tepid in your throat. The only language you speak will be the language of Toil. Even in death, your last thoughts shall be wishing you had one more life to live to serve the Force." She declared. "I appoint you my Deputy, and that all Enclaves that follow my teachings must open their doors to you. All libraries that hold my knowledge must reveal themselves to you. All Nexuses I created must empower you. All Sorceresses I associate with must also teach you when approached. Provided, of course, the Force should direct you to them..."

The Sorceress of Ossus gathered the broken chain of a ceiling candle holder and handed it to him.

"Your shoto, Morris."

Morris Crownwraithe nodded to the Sorceress and he picked up and handed the broken half of his temple guard pike that still worked over to her. She then dropped it into the Blood Pit he had just walked out of.

"Focus..." she commanded.

He held his hands limply over the pool, as if in supplication, and he concentrated on the broken fragments of his old life, the Sorceress guiding him telepathically.

The weapon sprung loose from the pit, clean and new, a Shoto attached to a chain .

"This is where we part. It will be a long time before I contact you. Prepare for hardship ahead..." she warned, escorting him to the long forgotten ancient escape route from the Castle.

She hissed strange words and the door cracked open.

"Go forth..." she said gently to Morris, placing her hands on his shoulder.

"Punish Heresy..."

Morris Crownwraithe left the undercrypt and into the black of the tunnel.

Slowly. Almost like a zombie.

Later on...

Amidst the ashes of Castle Bloodscrawl, in the early sunrise, the bodies could be seen everywhere. Blue Armored Knights of Ession, sworn to worship Ashla, and the bodies of the last of the Bloodscrawls, still in the tattered remains of their black, horned armor. All the slain were surrounded by piles of Elaine Tear's warriors, who had died trying to rip the secrets to a hidden superweapon from their stronghold from their stalwart, determined hands. It had taken overwhelming violence to kill each, even the teenagers. In the modern parlance, The Bloodscrawl Family had gone down swinging.

It was a scene of carnage at the ruins of the main tower. Lightsabers lay shattered. Bloodscrawls crushed by telekinesis, Ashlans violently impaled on lances. Every object that 'could' have been used to kill 'had' been used to kill, so savagely had the assault devolved by the end on both sides. Half the tower had exploded after the Bloodscrawls had detonated a self destruct device, killing scores and scores of Ashlans. They had lost so many this night that it would be days before the ringleader of the Siege, Elaine Tear, someday to be turned into The Battalion , would be able to organize a team to comb the ruins. She had long departed, appalled at the slaughter, not just of her own forces, but the Bloodscrawls as well. The crazy fanatic had finally reached a level even she couldn't accept the cost of.

Save for the burning ruins, there was no sound.

A Lightsaber Shoto, the working half of a a temple guard pike attached to a Force Imbued chain, punched through the crumbled wall at the base of the ruined tower.

(THIS Plays)

The chain yanked itself back through the hole it punched, smashing away more of the wall with each time it crashed into it either way, until a hole big enough for a human was created.

The boy walked out in tattered, burned robes dark hair falling messily around his head , scarred, sightless eyes staring with a thousand parsec gaze as he walked in an almost zombie like manner, grasping his chain, arms stretched out almost as if in supplication, his weapon's enchanted links dangling from his arms, wrapped loosely around him. With that same pseudo-zombie walk (Had you been there it would have immediately brought to mind something resembling the soulless walk of Michael Myers) he slowly traversed a land of gore and blood, walking past the bodies of his family and his family's killers, a purpose in his mind that was louder than the sorrow, the complication, the trauma, the survivor's guilt.

His purpose was holy. To dispense judgement on the wicked and the treacherous for making a bad situation (The Gulag Plague itself) worse.

He did not stop for anything as he walked a dirt path on his Homeworld of Ession, leading away from what was left of his past. Distantly, in the back of his head the Padawan--now secretly the newest Deputy of the infamous Sorceress of Ossus, recalled a spaceport that was heavily quarantined at all times when screening the rare smuggler transport, for smugglers and Bounty Hunters were often the only ones still doing regular space travel, and any time a Smuggler landed, they usually carried precious goods. Smugglers were looked down on most times, but were absolutely essential in this era.

If any place had away off world, it was that port.

The Padawan, with his almost undead appearance, paid no attention to the random farmers and villagers from nearby regions who had come to investigate the signs of battle, only to be frightened away by the sign of the blind, mute Padawan walking slowly away from the burning hellscape that was that castle grounds, the glow from it's fires able to be seen for kilometers in all directions.

The spaceport itself was nothing special. It was a simple traffic control tower with a landing pad nearby, set in the remains of an otherwise long abandoned town. Ession's government regularly kept troops on guard there but in this instance, he saw only those in the blue armor and flowing golden robes of Elaine Tear's warriors. He saw an old YT model freight.

He proceeded almost mindlessly towards them, a burning disgust and hatred for the killers of his family barely suppressed by his transformation.

He wanted off this world, and he would go through them.

Ashlan Jedi didn't sense him until he was very close. He had crossed the perimeter hugging a nearby treeline, teleporting in to a nearby building when he spotted an open window, and hid his presence just as it began to set off alarm bells.

One Ashlan Jedi had cautiously entered the abandoned home, confused by the strange presence he and the others felt. He was, like the others, on edge after the Bloodscrawl Raid had gone violently south.

His orange Lightsaber flashed on and he looked through the house, swinging doors open.

One door swung open...and there the Padawan was, staring with his zombie eyes outward in the near pitch black of the room, just... standing there, in the middle of it...

Both Jedi and Deputy stared at each other.

The Deputy lunged, his chain lancing out to obey his thoughts as he tackled the Jedi through rotted drywall, the chained Shoto swiping him in the knees...

Ashlan Jedi broke into the House via Force pushing a wall in, feeling the distress of their fellow being attacked and violently rendered unconscious.

"What the hell is in here?!" one of them, a man, asked, voice slightly muffled by his azure helmet.

"Focus. It may be one of the Bloodscrawls." a woman said.

"How could anyone survive that slaughter?!" he asked. "Almost NONE of the attacking force survived, let alone the Bloodscrawls!"

A squad of four Jedi Knights total, followed by four standard Essonian infantry ventured into the large house. As galactic society collapsed from disease, as brutal quarantines were enforced across whole systems from what few navies could still operate, formerly prosperous cities and villages suffered the ensuing economic collapse as trade ceased.

Houses like this, once bright and lively, were but dilapidated shadows of their former selves, now having to be cleared out of infestations, whether of hostile creatures, or criminals. It would be too expensive to simply raze it.

Besides, the authorities sometimes stashed stuff here too for emergencies.

They soon came upon the unconscious Jedi and checked him. The room was cluttered. No signs of lightsaber damage. It had been sudden. Brutal. Overwhelming.

"He's got a severe concussion." one of the soldiers said. "Looks like he got smacked by something..."

A hand phased through the floor below the soldier, dragging him screaming to the space beneath the floorboards.

There were flashes of Blasterfire. Screaming.

Then...silence.

One of the Jedi cut open a hole into the floor beneath and hopped in, followed by another soldier.

The Soldier that had been pulled beneath was found standing in a corner of the basement, facing the wall, shivering as a flashlight from the Soldier's blaster rifle was shined on him.

The blood of the two who had jumped down to investigate ran cold at the sight as things went from zero to Found Footage Horror in ten seconds flat.

The Soldier approached his fellow huddling in the corner, trembling.

"Kasin? Kasin, where is it? Where's the target?" the Soldier asked.

There was no response. The Soldier turned his friend around and stepped back, terrified.

The other Soldier, Kasin, had a look of total, absolute, nigh catatonic terror, teeth drawn into a snarl of fear, eyes wide, pupils dilated, on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Is he alright?" one of the Jedi from above called out."

"He's...I dunno. Looks like he got the poodoo scared outta him..." the Jedi in the basement answered.

"What the hell did it?" the Jedi above called back.

"Kasin?! What did this to you?" the Soldier in the basement asked.

"Be-be-be---" Kasin struggled to get out, spittle running down his mouth not from any Force power that had been used, but from the sheer trauma of encountering his attacker.

"What?" The Soldier opposite him asked.

"Behind you." Kasin got out.

The Soldier turned, saw a face covered by a red piece of fabric on its lower half, the upper half revealing, scarred, blind eyes in the darkness as a chain shot out of it's own accord, wrapping around the Jedi's legs before he could react and dragging him violently into the darkness before the face itself vanished. There was no scream.

Both Kasin and the other Soldier screamed, firing into the darkness, but as their blaster fire lit up the room, they saw no one there.

(THIS plays)

The Jedi above heard screams and shouting in a room adjacent and rushed in finding the Jedi that had been just kidnapped on the floor, writhing in pain from missing most of his right leg. The missing leg itself was nowhere to be seen.

At least at first. The boy reappeared to the left of the Jedi using the severed limb to smack the Jedi closest to him directly in the face, dislocating his jaw and sending him flying before reappearing on the left side of the other Jedi as he spun to face his friend who had gotten smacked into the wall, the boy quickly wrapping his chain around his second foe's neck and strangling him into a state of unconsciousness with his beastly strength, but neither snapping his neck or suffocating him as another squad of soldiers in and two more Jedi armed with Double Bladed Lightsabers, getting a look at him for the first time, his unsettling blind gaze narrowing at them as the flash lights from the soldiers rifles were trained on him.

"What IS it?" one of the fully armored Jedi said.

The Boy answered them in a broken whisper of a voice, the pronunciation...off. He no longer knew how to speak as normal people do.

It was an ancient Essonian word

"POL-TER-GEIST..."

"It said something. What did it say?" one of the soldiers asked, growing more terrified the longer he stared at the unnatural thing in the torn, bloodied, burnt robes of a Padawan, staring at them like a silent, hungry, thinking zombie...

"It doesn't matter what it said. It's attacked our troops... maimed our comrades." one of the Jedi snorted as the two Jedi from the first party as well as their soldiers joined them, all pointing their weapons at him.

"In the name of the Goddess Ashla, surrender... whatever the hell you are...or we will show you no mercy." The oldest Jedi commanded of The Boy.

"Why is it in Padawan Robes? Is it a Bloodscrawl Survivor or not?" one of the Jedi asked.

"The Bloodscrawls would never alter one of their own like this..." the oldest Jedi said, keeping his active green blade trained on the Boy, who grasped the chain tightly.

The Boy pointed to the one who had spoken.

"ID-OL-A-TER..."

The Chain with the Shoto Lightsaber began to move of its own Accord.

All the Jedi present launched a combined Force push at the freaky, almost Zombie like teenager with the empty stare, but he was only driven back a few inches, the air around him rippling.

He phased under the floor, again attacking the two soldiers now both paralyzed with fear, knocking them unconscious with brutal punches to the jaw, then teleported on the roof.

His chain burst through the ceiling from above, it's weighted edge opposite the Shoto on the other end smacking into one of the Jedi while all the soldiers panic fired at the ceiling, creating choking clouds of dust and debris due to the dilapidated, advanced degree of disrepair and decay in the old domicile.

He reappeared amongst them, whipping his chain around him, smacking foes unconscious, solid punches from him breaking collar bones on impact, using his chain to whip and ensnare opponents, deflect lightsaber attacks and retaliate in kind, his yellow blade cutting through the weapon of one Jedi, before a spinning drop kick sent him flying into the rest of the Jedi present.

The entire mass of Jedi crashed through the wall, and the boy followed out, his almost undead, Samara-From-The Ring-like walk serving to make him seem only more eerie and unnatural to the Jedi as they stood up. All the Soldiers were knocked out and heavily injured.

Two of the Jedi sprinted at him their blades aimed for his arms and neck. He waded into the thick of combat, his strange chain-lightsaber weapon baffling them in the techniques he executed with it, using it to block and deflect with especially narrow lengths of it the Jedi forced to back flip when it's Shoto-end threatened to pass through their legs, making the Boy press the attack, attacking with a controlled ferocity that ensnared one Jedi by his arms, forcing him to redirect his lightsaber into the path of the other swing his blocking the blade meant for the Boy's arms. The Shoto blade whipped around telekinetically at that instant in such a way as to sever BOTH arms of BOTH opponents in one swing, and both Jedi passed out from shock.

The Boy then slowly, creepily craned his head to the two Jedi as his chain wrapped around his body of its own Accord, teleporting the lightsabers of his two defeated but alive opponents into his waiting, oddly pale hands.

In a moment purely to flex his physical strength to them, he crushed the hilts of the two weapons in his hands, tossing them at the feet of the remaining two Jedi, before his chain uncoiled from his body and caught fire, and for one glorious moment he was a Nic Cage Expy, the chain creating a CAGE OF FIRE around him and the two Jedi...after which he tossed the chain aside and put his fists up.

The Jedi stared and then tossed their own lightsabers aside and the three rushed each other, now understanding one another perfectly...

The Ashlan Jedi that helped slaughter his family were all soon with broken jaws, knocked out rather than killed due to his programming.

With no one left to stop him, the boy that had once been Nathan Bloodscrawl headed for the port to wait for a ship...his mind alien and incomprehensible...

...but not with the memory of pain completely removed...

Present...

"ALL HANDS ABANDON SHIP! ALL HANDS ABANDON SHIP!" The clone officer yelled before running for his life, having sex the ship on auto pilot for a collision course with the Sepulchre, most of the Battle Cruiser on fire from the Sepulchre's guns. Only the essential droids remained to steer it correctly and make sure the engines functioned long enough to reach the destination, shuttles taking off from the bay in a frantic bid for survival.

But both battle cruisers were absolutely packed with explosives as they got closer and closer
They were so close to the ship now that even if they were destroyed before they could actually make contact, the blast would be so powerful it risked completely wrecking the exterior of the Sepulchre anyway

But two otherwise cleared out Battlecruisers packed with explosives on a collision course was never the true threat. It would be nice if it succeeded, but Nathan had planned the Jedi trap he had drawn Thomas Barran into pretty well.

A Wickedness Hunter Battle Cruiser that had been slowly, patiently sneaking up on the Sepulchre from behind to drive the dagger in at close range had been approaching in stealth mode, emissions reduced to an absolute minimum to get as close as possible until it was right behind it, like the Spy from Team Fortress 2, decloaked at extremely close range and began firing every last gun it had on the ship of Darth Solipsis ...

All fighters were released, every last remaining fighter he had went into an attack run on the engines to assist, even as the Battle Cruiser took heavy fire in turn, parts of its armor violently exploding in seconds as it fired every. Single. Last. Weapon it had.

And in the passage where Thomas suddenly drew, hitting him with a stream of deadly energy from an incantation Nathan barely managed to block...he decided to let Thomas run. He had done as much damage as he could, kept Thomas occupied so he couldn't properly protect the vessel.

On the Surface, Magdalena Bloodscrawl and Syd Celsius poured their own incantations and blood rituals to try and limit the capacity of the dark Nexus released by Darth Bellum to do it's damage to the Jedi. Neither would flee until it was beyond certain that the temple would fall.

The troopers defending it had helped as many as they could escape, taking them to evacuation ships fitted with stealth drives that had been delivered and hand assembled weeks in advance, or they were escorted to portals leading to random, prepared and empty freighters outside the zone linked to the tunnels by powerful light side magics, their Clone Rescuers and the Model 0 Nuetralizer units still refusing to identify their allegiances or why they were being helpful to the wounded. Regardless, they clearly didn't serve the Sith...they had killed far too many in the temple raid. Many stayed behind to inflict maximum casualties on invading forces. The Siege Troopers at the Rotunda in particular guilty of this particular bloodthirst. But everyone they could possibly rescue and get off world would be to the best of their abilities.

One thing was certain.

Win or lose...the order would survive. Many from the temple would survive, though they would never no their rescuers names, or why they were willing to die to make sure they lived. It was almost like the Clones were collectively, albeit unconsciously, trying to atone for Order 66...

As Thomas departed, Nathan, slipping into psycho mode for a moment just to try and freak the Bloodhound out, sang mockingly.

"We'llllllll meet againnnnnnnn..."

"Don't know wherrrree, don't know whennnnn..."

"See your sword again, some sunny dayyyyyyyyy..."

Nathan silently performed a ritual gesture his mother taught him just as he knew the Wickedness Hunter would start firing.

He and all his collective troops got teleported onto Lambda shuttles outside the combat zone, no matter what they had been doing before. The Stormtroopers had actually reached engineering and were slaughtering personnel and destroying equipment when they got teleported off the vessel, along with the Biots on the ship, the ones who had reached the bridge included.

And in their place were left multiple bags of Class A Thermal detonators...

The ensuing explosions from the Detonators were quite tremendous.

So schemed the mind of Nathan Bloodscrawl, last of the Old Bloodscrawls.

First of the new. (Legends reference #543753344!!!: 21000 XP)

Valery Noble

Braze

Zark San Tekka

Kain Aldore

Domaric Mordane

Kyric

Voldran Molf

Ashin Cardé Varanin


OOC: Latter parts of the flashback (Such as when Nathan reaches the crypt and after) are taken from flashbacks in other posts, edited together to provide a cohesive narrative and fitting end to the origin story I was telling

 

[Rikuan]

✦ RIKUAN ✦
"Ride the wind, dodge the rules."

LOCATION: Coruscant - Inside the Jedi Temple
OUTFIT: Tribal Jedi Robes
WEAPONS: Lightsaber
TAGS: Rann Thress | Everest Vale - OPEN

Even through the haze of smoke and the growing fatigue in his limbs, Rikuan caught it. The way her single eye crinkled slightly, the breath of humor behind the word: "Show-offs."

His grin returned, crooked and proud. If he'd made her laugh, even for a second, while the galaxy burned around them, then yeah, that counted for something. But then… everything changed.

Her focus shifted. Her blade dipped. Her steps slowed not from exhaustion, but from purpose. She'd felt something, he could tell, and then she was moving. Not toward the fight, but away from it. That's when Rikuan saw him: the little Youngling. His whole body tensed.

Rann barked his name through the noise. Rikuan turned in time to see the larger Jedi charge into the line of fire, roaring like a battering ram. Bolts lit up the air. One clipped Rann's arm and Rikuan felt the heat in his own shoulder in sympathy. But the older Jedi didn't stop, he pushed, Force slamming into the enemy like a tidal wave and giving Eve room to move. Damn... they were both something else.

"On me. We’ve got younglings pinned upstairs."

All humor dropped from his face. Younglings. Rikuan didn't say a word. He just ran, falling in beside Rann, tail coiled tight with focus, eyes locked ahead as Eve and the boy ascended the stairs.

"That arm gonna hold?" he asked Rann under his breath, not mocking, just checking. "'Cause if it's not, I've got your flank."

He didn't wait for a full answer. His feet were already in motion again, keeping pace. The vines along the walls seemed to pulse with purpose, guiding them. Guiding her.

They weren't just defending the temple and all the hypothetical people within it. This was real now, tangible, there was a kid here that needed to be kept safe. And if there was one thing Rikuan knew, deep in his bones, from every scrap of instinct that made him a Jedi: it was that you never leave a kid behind.

​

​

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

C O R U S C A N T
JEDI TEMPLE STEPS:
DEATH AND DESPAIR

Engaging: Darth Apophion ​

Thurion did not want to listen, least of all to a Sith Lord. They either spout dark prophecies, speak cruelty, or tell lies. Too many times had he offered an olive branch to his enemies, and each time did they not only reject but cause him harm in return. It was exhausting to the soul, and to a heart already in tatters in the wake of so many lost loved ones. Through the years and decades, Thurion had found himself increasingly numb to the notion of mercy, when they would show none in return.

The role entrusted to him by the Wellspring of Life seemed to turn him from Its Justice into Its Executioner, dealing death and annihilation wherever he went. He was never told why or how this person was to be brought to justice. The Force merely pointed the way, and off he went with blade in hand.

He'd never doubted before this moment, but when the Lion looked around at the devastation brought not just to the Temple but to Coruscant as a whole, as well as the slaughter of its people, he could no longer mask his inner conflict behind stoic duty. When he felt the incredible surge of power emanating from his opponent, calling upon the creation of a maelstrom that would in all likelyhood rend what remained of the Jedi Temple and these hallowed grounds so slick with blood, Thurion still had every intent to stop him.

"S-sire," he felt something grabbing hold of his leg. He looked down to find one of his kinsmen, battered and broken. His power armour was no more, turned into scrap metal some distance away. Both his legs were two bloody stumps, severed at the knees. "Our brothers..." Thurion looked around. There were none left standing. Their bodies lay strewn across the steps, some of them hewn and torn limb from limb. Others had been crushed inside their suits.

To this heartwrenching sight, the High King removed his winged helmet and knelt by the last surviving Einherjar, took him into his embrace, and kissed him on the forehead. "Forgive me, my son," he begged as he wept. "For I have availed you nothing!"

"I-it has been the g-greatest honour... to..." The Einherjar clung to his king with what strength he had left, before he too passed.

Distraught, Thurion cradled the last of his warriors as he looked to the burning skies. "I am sorry, Valery Noble — I have failed you! The Temple has fallen. Coruscant has fallen. Our brother Caltin Vanagor has fallen. I did the best I could, to hold the line. It wasn't enough..."

Defeated, the Lion lingered only to watch the culmination of the terrifying force on display, before a gentle snowfall graced the Jedi Steps and an aetherial mist enveloped the battlefield, taking with it the remains of the Sons of Midvinter back from whence they came for a proper burial. All that remained of the High King and his Einherjar were the blood they'd shed for a world they did not know, and the wrecks of a hundred battle suits.

 

[Everest Vale]

Outfit: Robes
Equipment: Lightsaber, Bracelet, Earrings, Seer Stone, Wayfinder's Flare, Engagement Ring
Tag: Rann Thress Rikuan

The stairwell opened into the upper hall, its walls scorched and shuddering with distant impacts. Ahead, the great meditation chamber doors stood half-sealed, vines curling protectively across their surface like living wards of the Force. Eve pushed the doors open with a quiet press of her palm.

Inside, the younglings were huddled together, small figures wrapped in oversized robes, tear-stained faces peeking out from behind one another. Some clung to their training sabers as if they were lifelines. Others just cried softly, their voices carrying the raw, quiet fear of children caught in a war.

One little boy, dust-streaked, trembling but determined, broke from the group. He ran to her, eyes wide with hope and dread, voice cracking as he spoke.

"P-Padawan Vale… There are too many of them. What are we going to do?"

Eve dropped to one knee so she was level with him. Her white blade dimmed and vanished with a quiet hiss. She placed her hand gently against his cheek, her thumb brushing away a streak of dirt and tears.

"It's alright," she said softly, her voice steady as the hum of the Force beneath the Temple. "We're going to get you out of here. I promise."

She glanced over her shoulder, nodding toward Rann and Rikuan as they stepped into view, both of them battle-worn, but unshakable.

"I brought friends. And we're not going to let anything happen to you. Any of you."

The boy's breath hitched, but he nodded, clinging to her words like a lifeline. Eve stood, her hand lingering for a moment on his shoulder before she turned back to the group.

"Stay close. We'll keep you safe."

Outside, the sound of boots and blasters grew louder. Another wave was coming. Eve's saber snapped back to life with a brilliant hiss of white.

 

[Silas Westgard]

Location: Coruscant
Objective: Defend the evacuation shuttles
Tag: Valery Noble

"Silas, I hear you. Hold on. I am going to try to level the field for you."

At her words, a breath of relief escaped Silas, and the tension etched into his face softened. For the first time in minutes, hope surged through him. "Thank you… I owe you one," he murmured, then slowly opened his eyes.

The battlefield had changed.

Blaster fire, once a relentless storm, had gone eerily quiet. Something had shifted. Silas rose just enough to peer over the edge of the barrier. Across the courtyard, enemy soldiers stood frozen, their gazes fixed on the swirling fog creeping across the ground. Some looked anxious. Others already had their blasters raised, bracing for whatever was coming.

Then, with a sudden blaze of color, lightsabers ignited within the mist, brilliant blades of every hue slicing through the haze. Figures emerged, still at first, then surging forward in a fearless charge.

It was the distraction Valery had promised.

"Now's our chance!" Silas called, his voice sharp and commanding. "Hit them while they're confused!"

Without hesitation, he vaulted over the barricade, lightsaber snapping to life mid-leap. In a single motion, he brought it down on an unsuspecting enemy, then charged a nearby group, blaster fire raining past him as his troopers followed close behind. Many fell before he reached them. Those who didn't were met with swift justice. Silas moved like a storm, and any enemy unlucky enough to face him had only seconds to comprehend their fate.

Behind him, the rumble of engines filled the air.

"We're set to go! Good luck, see you on the other side!" the pilot shouted over the comms as both shuttles roared to life and began their ascent, punching through the atmosphere toward safety. On the ground, the tide was turning. The enemy's morale crumbled with every comrade dropped to the dirt. One by one, they broke and scattered, retreating toward the entrance in a desperate attempt to regroup.

"Hold! Do not follow!" Silas barked, raising a hand to halt pursuit. He looked down at the fallen, grief shadowing his features. "Let them lick their wounds. We need to gather our wounded and regroup inside the temple. We've done what we came to do. Now we prepare for their return."

He took a deep breath and finally deactivated his saber. His clothing was scorched, skin blackened with burns from near miss blasts. Exhaustion tugged at him, but he refused to yield.

There would be no rest yet. Not until the fight was truly over.

For now, this was all they could do was wait until the inevitable came...

​

 

[Okuma Milogen]

Objective: Bounty - SPLIT assist in Braze defecting from the NJO
Location: Coruscant
Equipment: DH-17 Blaster Pistol, Ultrachrome Vibroblade, Rocket Boots, Cybernetic implants in Bio
Tags: Braze

Making his own escape from the Jedi temple wasn’t very difficult when he could just jump out a window with his rocket boots. Most of the resistance he ended up facing was against The Imperial Invaders rather than the Jedi he’d done his best to disguise as. However, upon reaching the rendezvous point he was supposed to meet Braze at, the pale teen was nowhere to be seen. It was troubling to think that his acquisition could be lost now in the chaos and potentially failing his contract. After checking the tracker he made sure to keep on Braze, Okuma learned that they hadn’t moved at all. Worried that the teen was now dead he’d need to go confirm it for himself.

With the use of his rocket boots it didn’t take the Kage long before he made it to the demolished structure. Landing himself amongst the rubble, Okuma would note that he was likely now low on rocket propellant and that the journey back was going to take longer. The sound of war echoed through the imposing city-scape as Okuma stepped up to Braze’s location. With the tracker it wasn’t hard to find and the boy hadn’t been trapped under much rubble. Standing over Braze they could now see the Kage’s tarnished disguise. Several burnt holes dotted it from blaster fire and blood that wasn’t his own stained deep within the fabrics. Carefully removing and pushing what he had to in order to free the young Jedi.

“Nice work with the shields, but that effort would all be in vain if you die on me Braze.” Okuma spoke before deciding to remove and discard his disguise, it didn’t serve much of a purpose for him now. Reaching down he hoisted up the Echani teen, ready to carry them on his back so they could get out of here. ​

​

​

​

 

[Drystan Creed]

CORUSCANT: JEDI TEMPLE

His scorched, red-hot arm began to cool, slowly returning to its original black sheen, steam rising from the forearm.

Drystan pursed his lips, having hoped for the total annihilation of his opponent. Not something a Jedi should hope for—but he had his shortcomings. Meliant surviving the blow, even with seemingly extensive damage, wasn't the only thing that caught him off guard.

What surprised him most was Meliant running.

That irritated him more than failing to bring his foe down. Surrender he could understand. Fighting to the death? That, he could respect. But fleeing? Perhaps that was the purpose—to provoke, to irritate, or worse, to lure him into a trap of his own making.

And rather than avoid that possibility, Drystan chose to test it.

A smart man would have paused to consider his options. But Drystan let the irritation win.

He gave chase.

To what end, he couldn't say. The hallway was long and narrow, and even closing the distance to the room's entrance took more time than it should have.

But as soon as he reached the end of the hallway and stepped into the room they had previously occupied, Drystan's eyes caught sight of something that gave him pause.

The burning that had consumed Coruscant had now raged into a full inferno—an unstoppable force where the only things that would emerge from it were ash and smoke.

Meliant

 

[Sienna]

Corin Kaze Darth Bellum Nulgath Zardai Alexandra Feanor Vulpesen

Sienna had dealt with death before. She'd hunted game before. She'd sat next to a dying beast, guarded against the tragedy of it, and slipped a knife into its heart to release it from its misery. Even as she'd settled into hunting regularly, witnessing the last breaths of a dying being remained poignant and profound. It was a life brought to an early end. The sort of thing tragedy was built upon.

There was none of that on Coruscant. The sheer scale of death overwhelmed her. She'd witnessed troopers slaughtered like cattle. Jedi cut down with not even a thought spared for their existence. As though their storied lives never mattered at all.

Those who would draw upon his influence would receive his boons at a terrible cost. His touch would taint and leave a lingering impression of the Lord of War.

Sienna stumbled through the remnants of the Jedi temple, disoriented and nauseous. She leaned heavily on the corridor walls. Unwittingly, she'd been making her way toward the Nexus. Between the psychic assaults from both the invaders and her own Jedi, she'd lost all sense of direction. Her feet carried her on their own, guided by fate or destiny, she didn't know.

Coruscant was falling. The Temple was falling. The Jedi were trying their best to defend, but they were losing.

Why wouldn't they fight? So content to enjoy peace when darkness lurked all around them?

But now they were dying. Paying for their hubris. She supposed she would, too.

The Force once again wailed out in distress, the wound that Bellum left upon it becoming further infected.

Sienna screamed out. A searing pain cut through her being, ripping into her spirit. Her knees buckled, and she held onto a loose piece of metal until her knuckles went white to keep from collapsing.

She forced herself upright again, repeating the Jedi mantra. No emotion, no chaos.

"Our Will standing in Defiance is why you will lose, Dark Lord. Even if we need give everything, you will find that we stand in opposition to your corruptive force. No matter our nature, or what remains inside." She stated to Bellum, staring him down and instead of falling to his words she continued forward.

" I have lived long before the Force ever thought to conceive you, and I will exist long after you are nought but ashes and dust. Break yourself against me and witness true power. "

The words shattered the air from a nearby chamber. Sienna stumbled onward, pushing the pain out of her mind, until she came upon the scene where titans of the Force clashed.

No emotion. No chaos

She didn't fully comprehend the scene before her. These beings held power so far beyond her imagination that she wouldn't even know where to begin to understand them. She'd stumbled into their midst, alone and in shock.

No fear. No chaos.

She clung to these words. If she died here, she wouldn't die a coward. Trembling, she pulled her vibroblade from its hilt and tossed the scabbard. The clash of light and dark raged before her. Forces of life and death, war and peace, made manifest and about to cut her life down like a blade of grass. She squeezed the hilt of her blade. Its quiet thrum helped her stay grounded.

She drew the bladepoint across the floor, marking a line in the stone. Her heart thundered in her chest. If she hesitated now she would never move again.

She set her sights on the Lord of War and exhaled. This was it. The truth of war. She wouldn't die a coward.

Sienna charged past the line, and into the fray.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Voldran Molf
​

Cora might've expected bluster. She might've expected silence, or even bravado.

What he offered was quiet sincerity. An acknowledgement that he had tried, was trying, but unable to cut himself from his marionette strings.

Just who was puppeting them? But, oh - the clarity of his features began to blur again. Cora couldn't risk trying to wipe the blood from her eyes, lest she lose any strength she had the deadlock. The darksider was struggling, not just from her assault, but from his own inner turmoil.

Her opponent's softer features began to bleed into something…familiar. Something unsettling. His lips curled at one edge in the vicious, arrogant smirk of a cruel man.

Cora dropped her blade, pivoted to the side, and surged towards him. The gloved fingers of her metal hand grazed his neck, flexed to seize, before an invisible weight slammed into her chest and sent her sprawling down the hall.

Ah, but it wasn't him, was it?

"Stay away from me… I don't want to hurt you! Go - run, while I can still hold it back!"

She caught herself at the end of the hall, stumbling to stay upright. Was he another illusionist like Isar? No, it mattered not.

"I don't believe you," she muttered. The singular, stark line of blood that tricked down her forehead now ran over the slope of her nose.

Cora killed her saber, clipped it back onto her belt, and raised both hands. Her fingers curled, tugging at vines and stone. Above Voldran, the ceiling would come crashing down, and to the side, a collapse of both walls.

She heaved once and spat blood onto the duracrete below.

[Final Post]

 

[Nulgath Zardai]

ENGAGING: Sienna
ALLIES: Darth Bellum
ENEMIES: Alexandra Feanor Vulpesen

Why?

He pondered briefly as his physical body began to shift and move from within. Vines seeped in black ichor bleeding its sap like life through his decaying flesh. Chunks of his skin began to slide off in damp strips. They peeled from his arms, from his neck, from his back. Each piece hit the cold stone floor with a soft wet plop. Like a creature molting its previous identity. The corruption in the nexus pulsed through the walls, like a heartbeat made of Hijarna stone. The dark side licked at him, coiled around the wound the Drengir had left buried deep. That scar split open like a cracked seed, and from it, thin green and black tendrils uncurled. Roots. They pushed through his chest, twisting between ribs and fusing with bone. Something inside him creaked.

The corrupt flora didn't just expand, they spread, inside and out. One ran up the jawline and slipped behind his eye. Another burst through the shoulder blade. And Nulgaths visage smiled a wide shovel-head toothy grin. Impossibly big.

Why not? No more pretending.

A slow, crooked thing. It was wrong. He was wrong.

Somewhere in the psyche, past the Blackwing hive minds endless chorus of whispers, a new voice seemed to arise. One equally primal and hungry. Within the minds eye this new voice reverberated in his chest. The bottomless pit where Blackwing claimed and sustain Nulgath pulsed out in response and from its abyss corrupted vines sprouted out. Barbed, creeping, it covered the pit in fusion of undeath and perverse flora. A mold. And once again the surge of ecstasy and hunger

Meat.

She drew the bladepoint across the floor, marking a line in the stone. Her heart thundered in her chest. If she hesitated now she would never move again.

She set her sights on the Lord of War and exhaled. This was it. The truth of war. She wouldn't die a coward.

Sienna charged past the line, and into the fray.

The strange abominable Epicanthix felt a beating in his vision, a heartbeat and for a minute he thought it was his own. Then there was that scream, the likes of which he had not heard for quite some time. Impassioned with emotion and defiance of what was or would be. The beating drum of muscle was not his own it was the rythmn of Sienna 's. He was fixated by her. Unnaturally fixated.

The air changed.

The mutated epicanthix's form blurred, limbs stretching unnaturally, joints popping as they bent at angles they shouldn't. Bits of grayish flesh sloughed off mid-lunge, slapping wetly against the ground in his wake, leaking black ichor that hissed where it touched stone. The female Jedi had just a breath to react before Nulgath collided with her, aiming low, a vicious tackle meant to drive her onto her side. A snarling face hovered inches from flesh, mouth open too wide, strings of black drool swinging like cords from jaw to chest.

Baring a perverse maw of sharp teeth he aimed to clamp down on the Jedi's arm just above the elbow. His teeth snapped in mid-swing, a sickening crack echoing through the room. Nulgaths mandible popping in anticipation.

 

[Darth Apophion]

Objective: King of the Hill

​

Apophion's body trembled with the strain of holding it in. The Force Maelstrom grew, a churning sphere of pain and power suspended around him in the temple. Crushed stone, scorched armor, shattered blades, all of it swirled around him now, as if reality itself had bowed to his will. Indigo lightning danced across the rising debris, laced with unseen threads of anguish, rage, and destructive purpose. Then the Sith Lord unleashed the storm.

There was no sound. Not a thunderclap. Not a scream. Not even the hiss of lightning.

Everything went white.

For a single, blinding moment, existence seemed to vanish, consumed by the purity of destruction. All color, all form, all weight dissolved in the flash. It was not a fire. It was not energy. It was finality through the force itself. When his vision returned, the crater stretched wide across the temple floor, its edges blackened and fractured. Walls had been peeled away. Pillars reduced to broken stumps. The Force still hummed through the ruin like the fading toll of a funeral bell. The wind moaned through scorched stone. Thurion was gone.

Apophion lowered his arms slowly; his breathing was heavy, and his body trembled from the physical toll the attack had taken. The Jedi and his fallen brothers were gone. He had kept his promise, in an ironic sense. Thurion Heavenshield still lived, but his brothers, his men, were dead. He had left him alive and alone, with no one left to blame for his survival.

The only thing left was the battle suits of the Midvinter. The warriors of the Lion. As a hundred oaths that now rang hollow. Their armor shells lay crushed, seared, shattered, some still half-standing, fused to the stone by the heat of the blast. Others lay like statues toppled in slow defeat, their armor scorched, their bodies gone, but the shell remained.

Apophion had kept his promise; he had turned this place, along with the Galactic Empire, into a tomb. However, he would also keep his promise to Thurion. He would make no grand proclamations or take no credit. He did not raise his saber in triumph. He did not speak his name. He did not gloat. He took no pride in it.

Apophion now stood alone atop the ruined temple steps, cloak tattered, armor scorched, hands empty. The air had turned bitter, and the sky seemed to bleed. Ash drifted through the air in slow spirals, caught between the fractured spires of Coruscant's skyline. Fires burned across the durasteel city blocks, smearing the horizon with bruised color, orange, black, red. Plumes of black smoke reached the heavens, scarring the orange-red sky. The Jedi Temple loomed behind him now, half-swallowed by ruin, its sacred geometry broken by the battle.

Yet Apophion did not believe in endings. The Jedi still live. Holdouts on tython. Rebel movements on far-flung worlds in wild space and the unknown regions. Even now, they were regrouping, and soon they would reorganize, recruit, and rebuild. They would call it justice and rebellion. The fire would rise again.

Apophion vanished into the war-torn haze of Courscant. For the hollow cycle never ended, the schism between light and dark was wound that never healed. As a Sentinel of Ashen Faith, his fight against the Jedi would likely be eternal.