Public Hydra Hunting

[Anak Darkstar]

Hydra -SW Legends

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The Son of Darkness had heard of Hydras, monstrous creatures with golden scales, two heads, stringer tails, and the ability to conjure the Force as a beam weapon. It was said the Dark Lord Exar-Kun had created them, and that they haunted Yavin IV and other sanctums that Kun wanted protected.

One such planet was Raxus Prime, a wasteland world covered in toxic gases. There among the putrid fumes, lay an old dark side shrine, guarded by the Battle Hydras.

Anak had been drawn to the place as a pilgrimage, to atone for his rise to the Light. Here on the toxic world he would test his connection to the Dark and his prowess as an Acolyte.

Here he would be Baptized in the Hydra…

TAG:
Possible Interested Parties
Arkryion Malachar

 

[Anak Darkstar]

The Son of Darkness launched in a pod down through the thick atmosphere of white and yellow clouds, visibility was minimal. Inside he sat enthroned, his crimson robes pulled tightly over sealed armor, his helm pressurized and augmented with a respirator. The Pod fell like a white tear from the heavens to this hell, and crashed with a great chime, like a bell, a crater forming, with fissures making jaggid legs. The hatch slide open and leaping out was a great long cape of scarlet, it seemed to have no end, and blew in the howling wind.

The Sith Pelegrin pulked his hood tight over his head, his blood red eyes scanning the area. Without his visor, all would be cloud and blinding, the sun combining with fog to create a whiteness that would down ships.

Taking a few steps he heard s great cry, it was a growl that rose into the high tone of a pipe in an orchestra.

They knew he was here…

The Prodigal Sith made his eay further, when he fell into a slight piy, it rose to his knee cap. When he examined it with his hand, he felt a oval heel and then a tri-fork at the front that was like great teeth. A footprint no doubt of these creatures. Climbing out Anak tried to avoid the pattern of falling in to another, when something stirred in the mist, he sensed it, a great serpentine eel in this sea of fog, it swam among him, it great like a tentacle of Typhojem.

The great tail of shadow moved slowly, no hostility yet. The Sith wanted to touch it with his gauntlet, to feel the scales of Lord Kun’s Creation. So taking his palm, he carefully held it out, letting the scaly gold brush against it, he tried to be still so that it would assume it was some debris there in the mist. When it cried out and tail slithered away with haste, Anak knew that the Hydra detected him. Preparing himself, he raised his hands as in adoration, a great head descended, its snout pointed up like a crescent, and its teeth as if sabers, and its golden eye fixed on the Acolyte who reflected in it. Its great nostril snorted puff of hot steam that made his visor fog up. He held out his hand, when he noticed another head if same snout, teeth, and eyes was behind him. It pressed its nostrils directly on him, Anak could almost fit in the nose hole like an opening to a cave. The two heads then made a clicking noise, they did not seem to be considering him a threat, rather they were curious, their tongues even feeling his armor and cape. The Pilgrim stayed still, not gesturing to his saber hilt, nor conjuring the magic of the dark side. Instead he sensed this was his only opportunity to meet these creatures without fightibf for his life and so he let them prod and prob him, one of theur stinger tails touched his armor, as if curious if he had scales, the tip marking the thick plate.

The Acolyte wanted to pet these titan heads, alas he knew they were not pets, and any motion would be perceived as a threat. So he waited as the two heads exchanged clicks and then rose back into he mist. He wondered if they would strike or had they lost interest? It was then a great foot with claws fell on his position, Anak having to roll away, it and another began to sig into the ground with those tri-claws, coming towards him, his long cape now wet from the mist. Anak drug it like a rope behind him as the feet came tearing up the ground as if tilling it for a harvest. The Sith Prodigal leap behind a boulder, and laid there.

It had begun…

 

[Anak Darkstar]

The poinding of these Leviathanic feet made the ground tremble, Anak crawled, when a trail sweeped down, its sting digging into the ground next to his knee. The Sith Pilgrim grabbed his saber hilt and with a snap hiss he swept it into the stinger, the blade bouncing off the scales. The gilded python tail rose back into the mist, and then a great sound of thunder, and a beam of buttermilk hue steuck the area, its heated energy leaving a great hole and snoke trail. The Prodigal Sith ran as more beams descended like bolts of the old gods, he then ran into another tail that making a vibe of gold threw him on his back.

The Acolyte laid on a bed of his crimson cape, and a stringer dug rigjt down into his chest, it pinned into the plate, digging like a drill. The Son of Darkness grabbed at the needle with his gauntlets, trying to remove it when he was lifted into the sky. He passed through white and yellow clouds till he was face to face with the Hydra, its snout snarling from both sides as the two heads circled him. Then one bit into him, pressing the plate into his skin, making him groan. The pressure was so great, it was poised to tear into muscle and bone, when with a free hand Anak pointed the tips of his gauntlets and gnarled crimson bomts began to wrap around the Hyrda’s head like a net. It shrieked as he drained, and then with flick of its tail he was thrown.

His fall was an eternity when by the grace of the Darkness he landed in a pool yellow toxic chemicals. Trying to swim in the armor was a fool’s errand, he pressed off an edge of rock and dug his clawed hand into an edge of bedrock, as he body sank underneath. Hanging, he felt his armor’s weight dragging him under, so he pulled with the strength he could muster, breaking the surface with his phantom helm.

Safely on land again, he laid there, his body sore from impact. He had drawn some life to his wounds from the Hydra, so the threat of internal bleeding seemed averted. He would not know for sure till he was in a medical unit. Crawling across the bedrock, beams fell down, one hit the pool that sent a great splash, others beat the rock as a gong in explosions. These Dragons of Kun were relentless, their wrath insatiable. The Sith Prodigal laid on his side for a moment as buttermilk beams landed all about, they seemed to not know where he was, each shot erratic. A break for once. Checking his respirator, one of the filters broken. He took it out, the capsule and tossed it. Fingering in his his belt he pulled a spare and rotated it clockwise into place. He then checked the integrity of his armor. The creature had breached the plate, making a hole, which let toxic gas in. The Pilgrim took a piece of rock he broke and slid it in, then he took some seal, and covering it with a hot black substance, he re-pressurized the suite.

 

[Anak Darkstar]

Anak crawled away as beams fell like rain. He came to a valley where he carefully walked lightly down to what appeared to be great pillars of rounded stone, not hewn but whole and perfect, like setinels. The pilgrim came to a great circle of metal which descended as his feet stood upon it. Underneath was a room full of golden lights, which seemed to move, others jostled in make shift lanterns.

Stirring was a voice that echoed.

“Chosen One, have you at last come?”

The Sith Pilgrim scanned the dark. He could not find the source of it.

“You have the trappings of Kun.. you radiate that dark energy he once had.”

Emerging from the dark was a fair figure with blond locks that fell at their neck, tied up at the bangs, one set covering their right eye. This being wore white jumpsuit and gloves.

“I am Mephisius, this is my sanctum, welcome.”

The Sith Pilgrim watched as Mephisius touched the wall and great lines of golden light began to expand across the walls illuminating the entire facility.

“I have been watching your progress, your weapon is ineffective against the skin of the Hydras.”

The Sith Prodigal nodded.

Mephisius walked over to a screen that pulled uo an inage of long shafted spear.

“You need the Lance of Nadd. It is the only weapon capable of peeling their shield skin off qnd expose their vulnerability.”

Anak crossed his gauntlet arms and looked at the spear.

“Where is it?”

The Blond Oracle swiped across the screen.

“The Horn of Ragnos, a steep mountain in the east.”

The Sith Pelegrin sighed.

“Is it climbable?”

Mephsius turned and gave a smirk that denoted something he was about to say was cryptic.

“That depends.. many have tried, many have fallen. The climb requires three virtues: patience, forbearance, and will, Sith tend to not possess the first or second.”

Anak nodded.

“So my Jedi training will be useful.”

The Oracle made a plain face obscuring his emotion.

“A Jedi? I thought you a Master of Darkness?”

Anak chuckled.

“It is a long story, I have walked both the Light and the Dark path.”

Mephisius titled his head.

“This shall be an interesting tril then. You need the patience of a Jedi and the Will of a Sith. Perhaps you are the Chosen Afterall.”

Anak closed his claw hands.

“I am here to recommit to the Dark Mistress, that said, some of the Jedi teachings have merit.”

With that The Sith Pelgrin made his way to the surface, Mephisius talking to no one,

“I know.. I know.. he will learn that soon enough. Shhh! Do not spoil the plot!”

The Son of Darkness reached the surface where he used his notion of geography to get an east bearing. There was no line of sight, only the toxic gases and mist that blocked the view in every direction. Anak tried to keep aware of temors, signs the Hydras were near as he made his way towards Mt. Ragnos.

 

[Anak Darkstar]

The Cliffs of Ragnos were jaggid and full of holds that broke with the littlest effort. Anak hung from the black rock, his spiked claws digging into the hollowed out lines and broken dips, there poised high above the fog of toxins, the eind blew his great cape as long red tail. If the Hydras wanted, they would have a perfect target to unleash a volley of beams upon. But thabnks to luck or The Force, The Son of Darkness remained unnoticed. He leapt to grab a new hand hold, and slide down, his claws digging into the bedrock after leaving lines of white spash marks. This was the way, forward and then fall, making progress slow. This was what Mephisius meant by the virtue of patience. Move with too much haste and you would slide down to where you had been.

Anak began to meditate, a skill from his Jedi training. While he was commited anew to the dark side, the Son of Sorrow did believe The Jedi were right about a handful of things, including that “There is no Death, There is the Force.” Such admissions made Anak a Sith Apostate, and yet his devotion to the dark side kept him an outcast of the Jedi. It was difficult to explain that passion is the way but patience the means to harness that passion, that one coukd remain commited to the Dark while simultaneously using teachings of the Light that made that commitment oess chaotic and more honed.

Anak hung there, letting the wind howl around him. He chose in his mask to quiet himself, and then he reached out, blind, feeling the mountain, he began to rise inch by inch, not dropping again. He closer his mind to the goal of resching the top, and focused on the footholds and hand holds of the slab before him. In what seemed an age, his hand felt a hollowed out edge which he pulled himself up into. There he laid in a place lit by opening on the other end. Inside he looked and saw dug in the rock was a long shaft, a Saber Javilan with an elogated emitter, meaning is blade would be massive to wield. Anak tried to sieze it, and it did not budge, so he stood in his great robes and paused. Mephisius had said “patience, forbearance, and will.” So the Son of Darknees chose to sit in front of the Lance of Nadd, his legs crossed. His patience had gotten him there, his will saw him through, and now his forbearance, self control was needed. He could not ser free the weapon with brute strength, he must seek inward and call to the weapon, and get permission to take it. Raising hus hands upward, he felt in The Force, the weapon’s blade sang a strange song. It was not bled, curious, he thought most Dark Lord’s silenced the kyber. It sang a forboding song, one that haunted Anak at the soul. It had a history it now told in grinding noises met with strings and the beating of wood. This weapon had a woeful countinance, and Anak felt his own soul echoed the suffering, that his spirit rang a hymn of harrowing that it responded to. The long hilt began to shake, and leaned the pummel towards his lap. The Son of Darkness reached out and the weapon cut loose from the rock and now was in his hands. With a flick of a clip, a great green blade burned to life, it was like the snout of the Hydra.