Faction Into the Eye || Knights Obsidian

[Ascendant Resolve]

Geonosis

126 hours before the Reformation of the Knights Obsidian

Golbah City

The Citadel
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One often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it. Provided one knew their destiny approached. But such things were not on Linjak's mind as he toiled in the famed Hidden Valley of Rannon. There were many artifacts to be found here. Jedi, Sith, and otherwise. As a studious member of the renamed Solanaceae, Linjak was one of many sent to delve through history, and recover what objects might be learned from. Many of them held little value to him, personally. They were little more than trinkets. Ornamental pieces. But every once and a while, an artifact of true power could be found.

And this one was no exception.

Plucked from the depths where it should have lain, The Eye was uncovered once more. Or that was what Linjak had taken to calling it during his studies. He had taken it from Rannon back to the Citadel, where he might better use the resources available to him to understand this strange device, and what it was truly capable of. The Elder Knight hummed softly to himself as he jotted down his notes, having poked and prodded it enough for today.

But as he turned to leave, Linjak heard a voice in the back of his mind. Just one more try. Just one? He sighed, and set his journal on the table, turning back to the strange device. He stared silently for a moment, then reached out, feeling as though The Force itself was guiding his movements.

But the horrors overwhelmed his mind.

This was no simple trinket, he realized far, far too late. This was a weapon. A weapon he had just unleashed on the Citadel. The Eye lashed out, sweeping through the Force to search every hallway, every crack, every space until it found what it sought.

The gate to the Netherworld that lay dormant beneath the earth.

The resulting surge of Force energy could be felt by all sensitive to its power, planets upon planets away. And for a brief moment, time stood still.

But only for a moment.

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The Knights Obsidian are under attack. A deadly Force Affliction seeps through the halls of any outpost in which they gathered. The Eye has unleashed a terrible evil upon the mortal realms, twisting those sensitive to the Force into monstrosities beyond imagination. Those strong enough to resist succumbing to the effects of this plague are out numbered. The choice is yours: die within the halls of the Citadel, or escape to fight another day. Will you survive The Cataclysm?

The Knights Obsidian work along side many civilian assets, and are often integrated into the cities and peoples of the Confederacy. While the plague may not affect the civilians, the Knights claimed by such certainly will. Golbah City, former capital of the Confederacy, is under threat of being overrun. Containing the threat may not be an option. And certainly not before much of the city surrounding the Citadel is destroyed by the Corrupted. Someone must aid the civilians in their bid to escape. How many can you save?

The Citadel is not the only stronghold under attack. The Plague has erupted in all Knights Obsidian strongholds across all worlds, all spurred on by the activation of The Eye. Where gates to the Netherworld exist, rifts have been torn in the fabric of reality, allowing all manner of foul beast and vermin to run rampant. Or perhaps you are not suited to face this trial by combat alone. Whatever your skills, put them to the test. Wherever your fight, fight to the last. For your fallen brothers and sisters.

For the Confederacy.​

 

[Kyyrk]

Tags: None Yet​

Ringing. Why was there always a ringing noise in his ears? Voph sputtered, coughed, then spat a wad of blood onto the floor. Heavy. He couldn't breathe. He heaved to push himself up from his prone position, lifting the rubble that had knocked him down along with him. The ringing sound began to gave way to panicked yells, and the sound of alarm sirens. Voph's vision began to return as he clawed his way out from under the steel support beam that had been shaken loose. Yes, shaken loose when the entire building shook, like from an earthquake.

Voph stood, looking around him. The Command Center. He remembered where he was at least. Fire. There was a fire by one of the computer banks. No, the fire WAS the computer bank. Voph immediately started barking orders. "Someone get that fire out. You, help Master Marniss out from under there. Radio planetary defense, figure out what the hell just hit us!"

Voph climbed over the rubble towards the command table at the center of the room. Scans were showing nothing. No ships, no armies, nothing that could have caused such damage. Then Voph felt a chill run down his spine. A sense that the Force had always told him heralded one thing: Danger. Voph sidestepped as a massive claw punctured the table where he had just stood. He turned, lightsaber shooting to life, swinging at the creature that had tried to kill him.

Only for Voph to realize too late that it was Master Marniss.

Voph's brow and face knit together in confusion and grief as the well placed blade pierced the venerable woman's chest. But confusion overrode grief as Voph realized she was Marniss in sense only. Something had changed her. Something dark. Even Voph found the presence of the Dark Side nauseating in its strength. And he could sense a miasma of it spreading through the lower levels. As Voph stood from his companions side, he opened a com channel to the Citadel, and all who resided within. "We're under attack. Get the squires and younglings to safety. All combat capable Knights, identify this threat and beat it back."

 

[Beric Layne]

M O N A S T E R Y

Tag: Asaraa Vaashe

Moorwood Peak.

It was the home of those who served the Light, a resting place for those who had been injured in the line of duty. Although Beric spent most of his time living and training on Vandor, the Lord of Frosthall occasionally found time to visit the historic temple on Monastery. After all, it was only a hyperspace jump away, and Beric felt that it was his duty to help pass on the knowledge of the Light Side of the Force onto the initiates who trained there.

His fur cloak floated behind him as he marched past the open doors of the temple and into the Atrium, watching as initates and Knights milled about. On this particular trip, he was not here to train, but to garner some knowledge. Beric had reached a block with Millu and her control over the force, and he was hoping that the West Wing would have the resources that Frosthall, unfortunately, did not.

A sudden roar of anger and cataclysmic terror seared through the force, almost blinding Beric by its sudden intensity. His mind was instantly bombarded by a rush of emoton and indecipherable noise, and groaning he dropped to one knee. Straining from the effort, he managed to raise his head and saw a trail of mist rising from the stairwell that lead to the healing rift that Monastery was built over. Yet, Beric could not sense the nexus's familiar glow -- only darkness. Forcing the noise out of his hand, the Lord of Frosthall cautiously rose to his feet, preparing to draw onto the force as initiates and Knights alike scrambled about.

Something seriously wrong had just happened, and Moorwood Peak was about to find out just what that was.
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[Jalan Riyadosh]

Tags: Kyyrk

Geonosis - Covenstead

Jalan silently worked on focusing herself. Meditation was different in the slightest degree from doing her mental dives into the systems around her. Where one was a conscious effort to put herself into another system, her mind still tripped over itself to attain this peace that everyone spoke of while in attempting this peaceful state. It was something of a deep net rumor that beings used to meditate rather than sleep, finding a balance of being at their most ready state of mind, yet most peaceful and even achieving a sort of physical rest from the process. Which astounded the woman upon following the threads of these far flung tales. Hoping to perhaps even for a fleeting moment grasp a glimmer of this rumor, she found herself meditating in the solanaceae coven stead.

Her guardian had found the attempt rather...endearing given her state of being. A droid she figured could never obtain such a state of rest save for being turned off for a time, something a living being shuddered.

She had felt that calm, had felt the moment of peace before that wave of offensive energy rocked her. It passed over her like a supernova in front of her face, and the fine hairs along her body stood on end as the nerves in her being screamed against the sensation of being pulled apart at the most minute level.

Screams resounded around her. Which in of itself was confusing since she was supposed to be alone in this place. Voices permeated the area, or her mind. It was a struggle to differentiate between what was happening in the force and what was happening around her. Alarms were going off, and her implant was struggling to pull her back to her body from the strange inner peace that she had found.

Screams filled the air, and the force tried to pull her in to whatever was this dark direction it was pulling her. Roars and screams became a horrendous chorus in the air, and her conscious thought returned to her body while the pain still attempted to keep her pinned to the spot she had knelt down in. Something permeated the air, a large body that dominated the air and cast a sense of dread around it. Her eyes struggled to look up, but...something was looking down at her for a brief moment.

A large, clawed hand rose, and her body shuddered with a simultaneous effort to remain rooted to the spot, and to flee in terror. The thing seemed to enjoy the moments it took for her mind to push past the flight or fight response. Her legs pushed her forward, slamming into the legs of the being before her as it howled and it's clawed hand crashed into the space behind her.

The smell around it carried a smell that made Jalan gag and retch as she clawed her way between the beings legs. It's confused grunts and lumbering turn had her scrambling to push through the hazy pain that clouded her mind and made her body heavy as though she had completed a knights obsidian training course.

Pain wracked her as she moved, desperately scrambling on hands and knees while her skin felt like someone was attempting to peel it from her. The proximity to the beast was making her wretch still, and she skittered across the meditation floor. Slipping on something that coated the floor as her eyes struggled to make sense of what was happening in front of her. People were fighting, some deformed with growths and claws while others had blades and ranged weapons as chaos erupted before her.

The sound of breath over her made her scramble once more. Hands slipping on the floor as she spared it a glance and heard someone scream at the sight. Crimson coated the floor as she felt the heavy steps behind her. Fingers grabbed the doorway, pulling her out of the room and sliding trying to catch herself and begin running from whatever this was.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Equipment: The Blood of Dathomir Armor | Nightmother's Ward | Ring of Retrieval

Tag: Kyyrk | Jalan Riyadosh | Solanaceae | Knights Obsidian | Open
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"There is more art to brewing potions than there is precision," the Nightmother explained to a small gathering of Witches. Vytal had taken one of the classes for herself to ensure every Sister or Brother could see and even speak with her at times. With everything that needed doing it was all too easy for the Nightmother to become some mythical figure despite being quite alive and close by.​

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Before she could delve deep into the material, however, the pale Witch's voice went still as her head turned aside for a moment. It would be difficult to miss for any of the Art, but Vytal in particular felt this one more keenly. "The Veil is torn," was all those closest would hear before the Nightmother simply winked out of existence.​

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A deep, dark swarm circled above when the pale woman arrived in the Nether. Such a gathering of spiritual energy spinning, spiraling, sinking in on itself. Her right hand lifted to reshape the world to better see what was already know; some might think the Witch and the platform she stood on moved, but that was unnecessary in a realm without actual substance. The visage pivoted and zoomed before her eyes until the inverse cone that ascended to a point in the spiritual realm became clear.​

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This would not be easy.​

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Vytal shot into the tempest, buffeted by the spirits that competed with one another to reach the center. She could feel any number of them grab at her. Swipe at her. Howl and snarl at her presence. So many of them were foul spirits that knew Vytal would not approve of them leaving their world to claim another. Knew she would foil their plans or perhaps the plans of even greater spirits that sent their pilot fish ahead. She managed to throw them all off long enough to conjure the first of three binding spells on the gate through which they seeped.​

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One binding, and then they managed to cast her out of their presence. Before she could force her way in, the inverse funnel became a globe of all consuming darkness.​

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"Nice day for an apocalypse."​

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The man's voice drew a sharp look from the pale Nightmother. His own palor and red eyes she'd come to know well of late. A great spirit that claimed the title of Fanged God. One that would no doubt like very much to step through that gate himself.​

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A deep, low laugh followed her scathing gaze. "I'm not here to slip through the crack. It's much too small still. Seems you will have a problem stemming the tide at this rate. I cannot fathom how great the damage may be... There are powerful creatures in the deep being stirred by this commotion." Of course he wouldn't say it, but 'escaping' like some common spirit was beneath him. Besides, the ravenous spirits would make it less entertaining. The Fanged God did not need his enemies "softened up" before his appearance. Best this little mess be handled and then he walk among the living on his own terms. "Looks like you only managed one of three locks. At least the galaxy won't be consumed in an instant. Perhaps... two?"​

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The lightest of touches was felt on Vytal's right shoulder before a tunnel through the dark globe revealed the point where the Nethergate manifested on this side. Not wasting a second, she conjured enough power to lock in the second binding before the tunnel was squeezed shut.​

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It was difficult managing each conjuring. Even when her eyes turned to her other side to find the spirit that seemed to be the Winged Goddess standing there with a smile on her lips. So she had been the one to open the way, and help with the power to perform the act. Many spirits Vytal normally called upon were in turmoil over what was happening. Indecisive whether to try for the gate themselves, or help Vytal; the weakness in magick was its source was largely through such proxies and if they were not inclined to offer aid...​

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A deep sigh followed from the red-eyed man beside Vytal. "Oh, very well. I certainly can't have you thanking her profusely later." His hand clapped down atop Vytal's left shoulder.​

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Once more a tunnel bore through the spirits for Vytal to secure the third seal.​

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"Well now that you've angered all the dark spirits today, ensuring your galaxy stands a fighting chance, I think it's time for you to return to your own realm, don't you? That Nethergate isn't going to seal itself. Or, perhaps there's something there making this mess?" The Fanged God smiled. He knew more than he let on, but even the Goddess was silent. The Living had to Live, and they didn't learn by being spoon fed answers, they said.​

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The man flicked his wrist and sent Vytal flying backwards in the Nether. She reappeared in her study, dropped onto the carpeted floor with a grunt of pain.​

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Teeth grit, the pale woman's core worked to haul her body up. The moment her legs were under her, she made for the telepathic link to the other Covensteads. "Sisters, Brothers, the Veil is torn on Geonosis. Send those you can to its outskirts. Get the people of Golbah City to safety swiftly. I will tend the Gate." However or from whence they came, a tear in the invisible separation between realms was one of the worst disasters that could befall creation. Bombarding a planet from orbit was impressive, but less so when confronted with a threat that may consume every world in a matter of days as countless spirits poured into their realm.​

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Vytal had managed to keep the Great Spirits from coming through for a time, but the Nethergate or whatever was controlling it had to be dealt with, and soon.​

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Not waiting to organize an effort personally as she normally would for an invasion, the Nightmother vanished once more with The Citadel as her destination. Only she found herself on the outskirts of the City instead, with smoke rising and the sensation of fear gripping the city. Distance was a tricky concept when moving between realms; and the effect of what was happening seemed to meddle with stepping in closer using magick or through the Nether. Vexing, as time was short, but now was not the time to complain of gods and goddesses not lending a stronger hand.​

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The street lit up as a bolt of lightning slammed into a monstrous visage that had torn one apart and sought to claim another victim. Vytal told the man to keep running as she stalked over to claim the discarded hovercycle.​

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It took a few seconds, but Vytal struck the right button to get the vehicle spun up in order to begin racing toward the city's center. "Command, this is the Nightmother, do you read?"​

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The piercing sound of another hovervehicle tickled her ear, and she turned to look over one shoulder. There was no need to 'ask' if something was wrong with the pilot driving the vehicle. She could tell by the spiritual energy that surrounded them. Evidence, like the monster moments ago, that something had unleashed a great terror on this world... and would do so across every start until all of Creation lay dead or dying. A quick flip of her foot sent the cycle to a higher speed as the chase was joined by a second hovercraft. Admirers of the darkest sort, and not happy to see her there no doubt.​

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Spoiler: OOC

Witches feel free to start in the Academy in Golbah City, or elsewhere in the City/Planet. If off world, there'll be craft sent from most Covensteads to ferry Witches on site to help with the evacuation; you can definitely catch a ride.

Spoiler: Tag

Tag: Alluria Ivalice | Althea Karalis | Dispara | Julra Repraj | Sabine Delacroix | Solana Arasne | Telula Vale | Vanir Eris

Template By: Darth Metus (Guy)​

 

[Ashelia Solidor]

O B J E C T I V E | Survive.
L O C A T I O N | Lost.
F O C U S | Open to anyone.
G E A R | Lightsabers, pistol, charm
armor, ring.
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She believed in Destiny. Unlike her vicious sister, she believed there was something greater than all of us, binding everything together. Ashelia was a faithful believer of the Word, despite having seen the wider galaxy as it was and meeting countless aliens from different levels of society, she still kept herself believing. The New Gods were the guardians of her people, they protected them, but how could she ask for their protection if she was so far away from home? When she was little, shortly after her mother perished, Ashelia had horrible nightmares involving her mother. They said to her that if she kept her faith on the Elder Scrolls of her people then she would never need to fear the terrors of the night and that her mother was surely to meet salvation under the gaze of the Astrals. Still, she kept having those nightmares, all about the same place.

The Unlight. A dire and horrible place where all the unworthy go, where no light shines, this hellish inferno where all the souls of every sinful creature, every heretic and everyone deemed unworthy by the New Gods are cast. To burn at the endless pits and being torn to pieces by creatures of the Void, and now she could barely believe in what was happening. She could feel the darkness taking over her, as if it infected every part of her body and invaded every known and unknown corner of her mind. And she saw herself for the eternal prey, surrounded by an ocean of darkness and horrors, wherever she looked she saw nothing but bloody smiles turning on her.

"No, please, no ... I was good. I did what I was told, I did everything they asked of me, I remember the scriptures in my head.", But all they did was return their pleas with laughter and mockery. . From that cacophony came a pitch black, shiny and uniform, which could easily be mistaken for oil, were it not for the multitude of mouths with teeth along its length, which all opened to greet her with a hungry smile. She moved towards him at once, and all Ashelia did was to lower her head and cry out the name of the All-Mother in her head, until she felt just under a meter from her the creature had stopped.

And standing beside her, made of an almost blinding light, was Sylva Tenebrae, as if she had not died centuries ago. With the palm of your hand outstretched, holding the creature as if it were nothing more than cotton. Gently she pushed the crossbow and it fell apart. The former queen swirled around the hall of her mind spreading the same light she generated by undoing everything she feared like cotton candy falling into the water, to just stop and lift her arm, snap her fingers and wake her up on a cold floor. that she had been in the Citadel.

The elzeri raised both hands and looked at the palm of both, seeing small dark grains dripping from them and falling apart in the air.
"What just happened?", And as if answering his doubts, horrific roars echoed through the corridors. The woman rose from the floor, running her hand all over her body to see if each of her possessions was in place. With her left, she drew her pistol from its holster, and gave herself the courage to start walking down the halls of that building.

 

[Haven]

S U R V I V E​

Tag: Ashelia Solidor​

Affliction.

The Calamity was no stranger to abominations of the flesh. To witness one's body molded into another form - twisted beyond recognition - was one of the many tactics wielded by his kin. Those who were born apart of that culture, born of Witches and Magick, would not be terribly surprised by the reality on its own. However. What did cause a chill to race down the man's spine was how the transformations were occurring. What was seemingly a typical day within the Obsidian Citadel quickly turned into a nightmare. And it all began with Darkness.

Haven felt a presence rip through the Force.

A might which he had never fathomed nor had the ability to comprehend.

It tugged at the strings of his mind. Attempting to wrest control over his thoughts. Attempting to corrupt and mold his person into something was not meant to be. His sovereignty was in peril - enough so that the man fell to his knees. Hands splayed out upon the marble tiles, clutching for nothing as agonies ripped through him. Amidst the grunts and snarls that fell from his lips, Haven managed to coax a mantra. A prayer. A plea. To those ancestors above. To those kin who had sacrificed themselves so that he might live. He begged their mercy. Begged their power. And in a moment of divine mercy, he found himself in their embrace.

The Darkness in his mind was swept clean.

The Calamity rose to his feet.

Prior to the madness, Haven was supposed to have been meeting the Knight that would serve as his Mentor. The man was none too thrilled about the arrangement, for he believed himself mighty enough to not warrant direction or supervision. Yet, in the Chaos quickly enveloping the Citadel, wisdom demanded that he seek the woman out. Perhaps she would have an inkling as to what was going on, why, and how they would survive this. Thus, he ran. Through the corridors, past his comrades who were quickly succumbing to the apocalyptic transformations, past the rooms of study. He searched and he ran. Ran and he searched. All culiminating with finding one stepping forward against the Darkness: Ashelia Solidor .

He came to a quick halt before her, pausing only to gulp down breaths of air. "Master," he stammered, breathless. "What is going on? How did this happen?"​

 

[Dispara]

SURVIVE​

Location: The Academy, Golbah City
Tags: Open

She had sought knowledge and power. It was a rather cliched purpose, yet it was still true. Dispara felt a visceral calling to squeeze from the galaxy all it could give. Her most formative years were spent on a backwater world, immersed in the primitive spiritualism of an inbred cult. And she squeezed from those dark shamans every drop of knowledge they could offer, enough for her to caress the Force to her bending. And how much easier the Dark Side bent. But her potential was truncated by such small minded witch doctors, and Dispara knew it. She was mal-developed in her faith and doctrine, and something inside of her had pricked at her incessantly to find more...be more.

Dispara discovered in Confederate space the rich fount she sought. The Solanaceae. At the threshold of their Academy she begged entrance, vowed to prove her worth. Only then did she see what she truly was. On Antamont Dispara was a revered shaman, mistress of the spirits and magic. At the Academy on Geonosis, the shaman was a neophyte, uncouth fledgling witch who tended to turn to the sword more than to the power she could wield. But it was there, power and knowledge dangled before her. That knowledge she sought was offered as a torrent from a drain pipe, and Dispara tried desperately to swallow as much as she could.

That day, the Spirits favored her... or cursed her. The lesson was on potion brewing. It was a subject of little interest to Dispara, until the proctor that day turned out to be none other than the magnificent Nightmother herself. Dispara, barely an initiate, basked in the shadow of the mighty Dathomiri Elder as she deigned to offer basic instruction to the Witches gathered. Potion brewing immediately became Dispara's favorite subject.

Attentively, Dispara listened to the Nightmother introduce the philosophy of potion creation. A sudden wave of unease swept over Dispara, but she quickly disregarded it. Whether bad breakfast or bothersome spirit, nothing would tear her attention away from the enamoring Nightmother. Then that tattooed pale face froze. The half-Sephi noted the Nightmother's abrupt silence, as did all the brothers and sisters. Dispara was close enough, and heard the words Vytal muttered, only barely understanding their significance. Then the venerated Elder was gone. And a storm unleashed.

It fell upon her like a rogue wave, an affliction that pummeled her being and plunged its violating tendrils into her deepest parts where it found resonance with the woman's own darkness. It tore at her will, threatening with terrifying severity to strip her of her senses and render her a vessel of abject destruction. Dispara saw this, felt this all, frantic to fight it. Fear turned to anger. Her physical body resisted, muscle and sinew straining to deny the deformation, the corruption of her strong, lithe phsyique. And the Darkness brewed a putrid hatred for life within her.

Though she was not aware of it, Dispara had fallen to her hands and knees as she fought the affliction. Her fellow students were ignored, as they fled, or writhed in their own battle. Her hair fell about her face as she grit her teeth and growled and groaned, desperate in her struggle to rejedct the intrusive power. The Dark had always been her ally, so ready to be weilded, but now it craved to be the wielder. Eyes gleamed pale, drool slipping from glistening lips to soak in the carpet as the shadow crept through her, claiming her inch by inch, like the slowly rising water of a black flood.

Eyes squeezed shut, every muscle bunched up. veins bulged at her temple and neck, and with every molecule of her body Dispara pushed back. Her voice rose above the din around her in a guttural, cracking scream. " NOOOOOOOOOO!"

There was a respite of the violating energy, and Dispara staggered to her feet, coughing and cursing. Panting, the initiate gathered her wits, and the Force was coaxed to flow unhindered again within her. She was alone, but not totally. Through the halls of the Academy there was still shouting and screaming. She didn't know what was happening, but the Nightmother's last words and her own battle offered a frightening suggestion. With a defiant sneer, Dispara's will summoned what her cult called the Shadow Spear, A weapon of dark Force matter manifested in her fist, a simple shaft with each end tapered to a wicked point. The initiate ran from the room to find escape, to find someone, to find answers.

(Sorry for the length, its Dispara's intro to the Solanaceae )

 

[Rann Thress]

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Tags: Kyyrk​

Elsewhere....

Inside a ruined temple, so so far away, a fight continues. The man shrouded in white robes, with an extravagant blue lightsaber continually pushed back by the relentless assault of the man covered in dark, black robes with a red lightsaber. Brilliant sparks of purple shoot out in every direction after every single clash between the two blades, but the man in black is tiring. He's pushed so hard, attacked so strongly, but has gained nothing but ground. Ground his opponent has given up at every turn in calculated manuevers. The man in white is trying to tire him out, and it's working. As they move deeper and deeper into the temple, the man in black sees his opportunity behind his opponent. Staircases leading downward. He knows he has to attempt to get the high ground. If they keep on a level field or, worse still, if his opponent is allowed to direct the fight up a flight of stairs it would be over. So down the stairs it is. He manuevers himself, and the fight, to continue towards the stairs heading down, deeper into the temple's bowels. He continue pushing the fight back and, at the top of the stairs, delivers a kick to the man in white's chest, sending him falling backwards down the stairs. As his opponent yells in surprise and flails backwards, the man in black, curiously, doesn't push his advantage. No, instead, he takes a much needed breather. He has something else planned as he raises his lightsaber and carefully walks down the stairs...

Here...

Rann's eyes awoke with a start and he blinked a couple times. Alarms were blaring and smoke and dust filled his immediate vision. He struggled to sit up and brought his sleeve to his mouth, coughing, revealing blood when he pulled the sleeve away.

"That's not good" he said, his voice raspy. He was covered by light debris and lifted it off of himself with his robotic arm. He couldn't quite find the strength with his other one. With a groan, he rose to his feet and blinked a couple more times, struggling to get his senses in check. It was then he heard some....ungodly roar. And screams. He coughed again and doubled over, coughing several more times.

We have to leave.

You're right.

Rann couldn't help but smile, amidst the chaos. It wasn't every day he found himself agreeing with himself. He stood up straight, and struggled to remember why he was on Geonosis to begin with.

He arrived earlier to meet with his master, Kyyrk . For one brief moment, a fleeting moment, Rann was elected Viceroy of Rannon and, because of that, he had to resign from the KO. He later relinquished the position to a businessman and friend on the planet, Gavin Nalle so he could rejoin the Knights Obsidian.

That's why he was here. He was seeking out his master to rejoin the Order when.... something happened. While he was traversing the halls to find Voph a sudden blast of energy rendered him unconscious.

"Master Voph." he said. He was, as of yet unsure as to what was happening. But he figured if anyone'd know, it'd be Voph. Now, he had to find him. Rejoining the Order was now a non-priority next to survival, as he grabbed his lightsaber from his waist and moved down the hall, towards the screams.

He came to a T-junction in the halls and stopped. He could barely find his way around the citadel in the best of times. Now it's dusty, smoky, and murder-y. As he sat there, trying to remember. Trying....

It was hard. Why was he here again? Voph. Had... where was his office? I....

A screech came from behind him, and Rann turned around to see a monstrous figure take a swipe at him with it's claw. Rann stepped back into the T-hallway proper and found his back against the wall. He stared at the creature in shock and fear.

"What..?" he mumbled as the creature jumped on him, taking them both to the ground and knocking Rann's lightsaber out of his hands. It started scratching at him and hitting him, drawing blood which only seemed to frenzy the creature further as Rann did all he could to keep the creature away.

Adrenaline kicked in for Rann, and he put his organic left arm under the chin of this....'creature' and with his robotic right arm he began punching it, full force with his arm. Luckily, it knocked the creature off and dazed it long enough for Rann to jump on it in a full mount position. Putting his hand again on the creatures 'throat', Rann began to savagely beat the creature with his Robotic right arm, screaming all the while.

Thud, thud, thud, thud, punch after punch was thrown as Rann's furious screams began to outweigh the other screams and roars throughout the area, and hard, bone thuds were replaced with softer, smack sounds as Rann's robotic arm began breaking threw bone. With one final scream, Rann reached for his saber with the force, summoning it to his hand and igniting it in a brilliant explosion of yellow, before flipping his grip around in reverse and with both hands bringing the saber straight down into the creatures face. Silencing it's roars and it's frantic, desperate movements once and for all.

Rann breathed heavily, and disignited his lightsaber. He fell backwards off the monster and struggled to get his breath. After what seemed like hours, but in reality was probably seconds, Rann rose to his feet, shakily. He stood over the corpse of the creature. It was wearing clothing, clothing Rann recognized, and he frowned. This...thing...was an Obsidian Knight.

"What the hell is going on here." he said quietly to himself as he began nursing his wounds. He had a gash on his forehead that was bleeding profusely and his nose hurt to the touch. But he was alive. He wondered how long he would stay that way as he turned down one of the halls, unsure if it was where he could find his Master, indeed unsure if his master was still his master and not one of these monstrosities, and he began running. The screams became more sparse, and the growling and roaring louder. And Rann began to seriously fear that he was quickly becoming one of the only survivors in the Citadel.

"Please, don't leave me all alone."

​

 

[Willow]

Survive​

Location: The Academy
Tags: | Dispara | Open |

-------

'Wake up...'

Instantly the lids over powdery blue eyes snapped open, bringing the sleeper in question to a state of immediate awakeness. There was disorientation, the location was not familiar, but that voice had sped the heart rate and riled a confused noise in reaction.

'There is something coming, you must rise. Seek the others.'

"What? What others?" The answering voice was thick with exhaustion, but there was no need for an answer in return. The sleep fog ebbed just enough, giving way to some much needed clarity in the moment. She was among the Solanaceae, still new to her, and she was supposed to be learning about potions and tinctures, but had become fatigued all too quickly and excused herself to try and shake it off. Clearly, it hadn't worked and she had dozed off. Now she sat herself up slowly.

'Move, now!'

The persistent voice made Willow groan and she placed her head in both hands for a moment before she forced herself to her feet. Why did she feel so heavy? Like there was metal in her limbs, weighing her down. No...no not like metal, as if something were reaching through the floor to grasp at her ankles and drag her back. Her gaze quickly shot to the floor, making sure this wasn't actually happening - it wasn't. But she could never be sure.

'Wisp...'

She sighed, paused her route and turned in another to follow the direction of the voice leading her for whatever reason. Willow had learned some time ago the difference between helpful and hindering spirits, and this voice was one of familiarity. "What's going on?" she finally found voice enough to ask.

'Danger.'

"Yes, so you've said. What danger--" but again, she didn't need an answer. She could feel it. Something somewhere had given way in the veil, and the danger the familiar spirit spoke of was a danger also familiar to Willow. In that moment she understood the weight in her legs; it had slowly climbed up her limbs, seeking to weigh her down and take control of muscle movement. To claw its way through her person, to stretch through muscle and organs alike, shifting and changing her form to something more suitable to its liking. Control, it wanted full control of her, and Willow wasn't about to let that happen. The redheaded initiate's eyes rolled closed and she took a slow, steadying breath. Both of her hands came together in front of her palm to palm though they did not touch. Her hands were then turned, palms down and she moved them downward towards her legs. More than once this was done with her using her connection to both the Force and the veil to will whatever this evil was back down again, and while it did not dispel the sensation entirely the weight eventually ebbed enough for her to move again mostly unhindered.

'Wisp!' Again the voice bellowed at her, causing Willow's eyes to once again snap open and be on the move. She returned to where she had last remembered seeing the class, and found nothing but the back of someone's head as they left the room. "H-hey!" she called out. By the Cosmos all she could hope for was that it was a real person and not a wayward spirit leading her astray. But the voice was quiet, and so she gave chase. And once she got behind enough to have full view of the other body, she recognized a classmate. Dispara , the voice told her. Naturally not one she knew well, she didn't know anyone well yet. But it was at least someone.

Someone who was armed, no less. "Where is everyone?" she called out again. She didn't need to ask what was going on, she understood that after all. And while Willow understood now what had caused such fatigue earlier, she was more than a little upset that she had succumbed to it and lost track of the other witches because of it.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Equipment: The Blood of Dathomir Armor | Nightmother's Ward | Ring of Retrieval

Tag: Kyyrk | Jalan Riyadosh | Ashelia Solidor | Dispara | Willow | Rann Thress | Solanaceae | Knights Obsidian | Open
​

The Citadel began to loom over her as the bike raced toward the compound. To think now of all times she was forced to rely on technology rather than merely conjuring a gateway to her destination. Curse the indecisiveness of the spirits; though she was hardly shocked by the turn. It was one of the dangers she warned young Witches about -- the spirits always had their own agendas.​

​

As she banked toward the Academy, her eyes beheld survivors fleeing across the open ground with monsters in pursuit. It was all Vytal could see before a bolt of electricity slammed into the hoverbike and shorted its circuits.​

​

One figure stood in the open, no doubt satisfied at swatting a fly in the air. The Nightmother flipped off the back as she conjured the dark powers of Creation to suspend her in midair over the chaos. Her green eyes narrowed as their intensity grew. So the vile forms of the Nether desired an audience? Perhaps they'd like to crow about their escape? Yes, yes, well the pale Witch had something to say about that in turn.​

​

Both hands swept up overhead, crossed, and slowly began to descend down toward her chest. Energy began to crackle about the Witch's figure as she gazed down at the monstrous figures below. "In the Fanged God's name you will be still. In the Confederacy's name you will perish. And in my name you shall not rise again in this life or the next." Black clouds boiled overhead as she spoke. Perhaps not all of her spiritual allies would grant her power, but the Nightmother was not powerless without their aid. Merely constrained in the number or breadth of spells to conjure, alone.​

​

Her hands sliced through the air before her, and lightning rained from the heavens above. A single bolt struck each of the twisted visages of those people once knew. The one that had personally affronted her was shoved back across the courtyard until they were slammed against the Citadel's wall; only then did the lightning release their broken form.​

​

Quickly Vytal drifted toward the ground. An electric tingle was felt over her skin from the use of so much energy all at once. As a few of the survivors that hadn't been corrupted drew near, she turned to face those closest. "Gather everyone you can. Fortify a command post, or bunker. The source of this incursion will be silenced shortly, and help will come. Go, swiftly."​

​

When she turned to leave, someone asked where she was going. "The Academy. My duty is to the Initiates there, then I will investigate Command. Go." Now wasn't the time to be answering questions. They'd simply have to wait until later if they wanted to know what was going on. Even she wasn't aware of the details yet, so it was best she didn't humor answering such questions and belie any uncertainty. A lack of specificity might draw idle comment that would lead to fear, and then panic.​

​

Relegated to traveling by foot as the Nether was too turbulent to risk being sent further away rather than closer to her destination, the pale woman made haste toward the learning wing of the Citadel's complex. She hoped the less powerful might be spared, but hope was a fickle mistress and not something to rely on in the crisis -- from a Nightsister's perspective. They weren't a pessimistic people. Merely realists.​

Template By: Darth Metus (Guy)​

 

[Dispara]

SURVIVE​

Location: The Academy, Golbah City
Tags: Willow Vytal Noctura

​

Running out of the room and into a hallway, a chill ran along the harp of Dispara's spine. It was not induced by the sounds echoing through the Academy, the screams of terror and the monstrous sounds of rending beasts. It was the invasive presence of spirits she didn't know, entities that spiritually reeked of malevolence. The half-Sephie gripped the otherworldly spear tightly.

Don't lean on the material.

The voice wasn't a calm one, it was accusatory. The grip on the strange weapon loosened as the weapon rippled between being seen and unseen. Dispara took a forced, deep breath. While there was a tinge of fear, the gravity of what had happened only brushed her understanding, and the horrifying evil that had sought to seize her left a heaviness that clung to her like a wet cloak. But rising indignation was far sharper as she shook off the memory of the struggle.

Another voice sounded behind her, much, much closer. Familiar, Dispara nonetheless spun about and assumed a defensive posture, the Darkshear held out before her. It was no monster, nor someone seemingly struggling not to become one. The dirty blonde straightened, the weapon lowered. It was the one they all called Wisp.

Wisp was a fellow initiate, and one that Dispara remembered distinctly. The woman had a remarkable mane of crimson dreadlocks that Dispara admired. Wisp was also a bit strange, and that among witches was something. But Wisp had done nothing to perturb Dispara, so the pale woman remained on the Sephie's good side. When the shaman turned to see a familar face and not some creature behind her, Wisp suddenly became Dispara's favorite person.

"Something's happened." Dispara replied with an ominous tone, her bright pale blue eyes blinking at her witch sister. Her tense shoulders relaxed some as she move to close the distance between them. "A tear, I think, the Veil. We were all here, then the Nightmother was gone, and hell broke loose." She tried to explain, her mind still rattled from the repelling of the invading force. Her understanding of the Veil was only beginning, as a new initiate. "There are spirits loosed, taking people." The typically unfazed woman shuddered at the recollection.

"We need to get out of here, and find others...before it is too late." She didn't know what to do, to run and try to escape, to help others escape, or to hunt down the those poor souls now pillaging the area. She usually preferred to be left alone. But at the moment, she didn't want to be. She wanted Wisp at her side and in eyesight, though she tried to keep her stoic appearance.

​

 

[Ashelia Solidor]

O B J E C T I V E | Survive.
L O C A T I O N | Lost.
F O C U S | Haven
G E A R | Lightsabers, pistol, charm
armor, ring.​

In her most honest opinion of herself, Ashelia considered herself to be intelligent, intuitive, patient and at least a brave creature. Now she was not sure about that, not even in her worst nightmares had she seen faces so horrendous and creatures as weird as these. Twice she unloaded her pistol magazine at a group of three animals she had found in a room, devouring some poor fellow who had not been able to run long enough. Even a gun like hers, something more than capable of pulling a hole in a trooper's helmet and still piercing the helmet behind him, it didn't even seem to hurt those things. At least it was that way when she shot in the back, or even in the shoulder, although a direct shot to the monster's head that came snarling and drooling in her direction was more than enough to make her fall cold and dead on the floor.

Although with her vows, Ashelia made sure to be one of the fastest creatures to escape from there that she can. The elzeri crossed corridors after corridors without even paying attention to where she was going, until she still looking back slowly turned her head forward, pointed ears moving up and down, repairing steps coming her way. Out of pure instinct she reached out and stiffened her wrist, her finger sliding to the trigger, preparing to pop the face of the monster that roared challenges in front of her.

And when her two violet eyes saw who the creature that approached through the hallways, the elzeri panicked and threw her own arm with all her strength towards the ceiling. Her lips let out a loud, high-pitched scream of dread, her finger squeezed the trigger of the pistol reflexively, making the huge, almost deafening pop of the cannon shell in hers fingers take over the air, mixed with the smell of smoke and molten metal coming from it. from the ceiling where a burst of the wide hole caused by the bullet now hovered to be admired. Her brow furrowed under her tiara, bowing to the dark boy who appeared in the place of monsters. Although a part of him would almost have preferred it to have been a monster.

"You ...", 'almost gave me a heart attack' was something she was very interested in screaming out loud but her mind reminded her that it was not the right time for that. "Your name is... Haven, yes?" Those at the top had said that she would be forced to train someone, a decision she had had little pleasure in hearing and even more in being forced to accept. "I must say that on the subject of making acquaintance with someone this should not be one of the most appropriate occasions and confiding you with this information I must also be in liberty to declare that I have no idea what is going on."

And she didn't lie, if there was one thing Ashelia avoided doing, it was lying, although omitting and misrepresenting the truth of something was almost her greatest specialty. Although her conscience almost screamed that it was not the right time for her to even consider this idea for a moment.

"But I feel like this whole place is burning. It doesn't look like any biological pest I've ever heard of." There were rakghouls but she doubted that there was any relationship between both pests. Ashelia tried to roll her head around and then turn to look over her shoulder, she didn’t trust what she felt in that place, it was as if she had been thrown into a hellish whirlwind where bright and dark spots shone and simultaneously erased in different situations. Her head finally stopped on the young boy, her ears fluttered up and down again. Her lips remained straight and tight as she murmured, trying to remain calm and a placid voice.
"We must leave this place, following protocol, what would be the nearest exit?", Ashelia did not know whether she was asking herself or the young man, she only knew that she bitterly regretted having ignored the date discs involving all the knights' protocols and their order, declaring that she would glimpse them at another time.

 

[Jalan Riyadosh]

TAGS: Kyyrk | Vytal Noctura | Ashelia Solidor | Dispara | Willow | Rann Thress | Solanaceae | Knights Obsidian | Open

---

Jalan pulled herself upright, feet sliding once before she cleared the stained floor and felt the stab of something heavy into the ground behind her. There was only a breaths time between the solid sound of something hitting the floor and another of the things looking at her. Parts of her were covered in crimson as she made for the walkways leading up, finding a number of regular and...whatever those being were clogging the way. The moment's pause had her being yanked backwards by the arm. A popping sound making her cry out sharply as the thing smiled at her while it pulled.

She slipped beneath it, it's one hand gripping her tightly as it raised it's arm again. For as large as it was, it seemed to have no problem raising its arm for another swing. Putting one leg behind it's leg, she used her foot to pull herself out from the arms swing and behind the creature. It held onto her arm, the one singing with pain and discomfort as she screamed and spun on the floor. It's arm in the ground, she planted both feet on it's backside and pushed as hard she could, making it topple forward onto it's face before it let go.

The ensuing grunt of anger from the face planted creature gave her reprieve as it lost grip on her arm, which she cradled as she leaned down and shouldered her way up. The arm hung in her grasp, pain searing as she scrambled through the throng of people and creatures fighting to get to the surface.

 

[Muad Dib]

Objective: Survive and lend assistance
Location: Petranaki Arena = Citadel (headed for the Academy)

He was on Geonosis, upon the sands of the arena, kneeling with the sun beating down upon his bare shoulders. The Aegis Armory built into the Petranaki Arena was owned and operated by the Aegis Corporation. As owner he found time to visit the sands as often as he could. Not nearly as often as he liked. It was revitalizing. And then there was the nexus that was also quite soothing.

But today wasn’t one of his brief returns. No, it was to spend time with his brother and help him find the balance he lost with the pull of a trigger.

Derek stood before him, sweat running down his bare torso in rivlets. For once he was seemingly free of the tremors today plagued him. The injury was healed thanks in no small part by the Corvinus couple and their use of bacta on Thyferra. But there was lasting damage that could not be repaired by medicine or the force. The viceroy of Siskeen was no longer the man he once was, and would never be again. All the Madman could do was help by being a guide along the new path his brother journeyed upon.

Matukai was just one of the many force traditions Muad had studied and learned. Considering the emotional turmoil that constantly swirled about Derek combined with the physical symptoms brought on by the massive trauma that was inflicted upon him, the madman sought to teach his brother control through immersion. A way to combine the force with the natural physical prowess his brother possessed in order to find a new balance.

For as long as he knew his brother, Derek was a weight on the scales of balance. However, ever since his near death experience the scales had been thrown out of kilter and Derek faltered with his identity and control.

Now Derek moved on the sands, feet shifting every so slightly before the strike began. Muad rolled to his right while his left hand plucked the beskad from its resting place in the sands before him. On his feet he circled his brother. Both men wore identical grins of excitement and expectation as they flowed forward with weapons clashing against each other. Their faces were near as their breath mingled in their struggle of superiority. Men of the same blood nearly evenly matched in strength and determination.

And then the world screamed as demons from the deep swirled in their minds as forms sought to escape the nexus all around them.

Spirits of darkness swarmed forward over their consciousness’ with Muad easily diverting the attack. Yet his brother fell to the sands unmoving even as Muad sensed the power seeking to subjugate his fallen kin. Calling on the force and the gifts acquired by a patron of the Mandragora he managed to subjugate the powers seeking to leach themselves to Derek. Pressing the forces back Muad spun on his right heel while dropping low into a crouch to avoid a lightsaber strike designed to decapitate him. His beskad swept out horizontally disemboweling a man he barely recognized as an initiate of his knights.

Several more swarmed forward across the sands in rabid attack upon his location standing over his debilitated brother. A snarl of challenge escaped him as he danced among them, the tip of his beskad tasting the lifeblood of each and every attacker regardless of their former selves. More swarmed across the sands even as Derek’s guards ran from one of the entrances to join behind Muad, blasters raising to fire upon the attackers.

It wasn’t needed.

The Aegis Knights assigned to the Arena burst onto the sands and decimated the monsters before they could close the distance to the brothers. Danger echoed within the force as Muad motioned one of the viceroy’s bodyguards close.

“Get the viceroy out of here. Comm the patriarch on the ship and prepare to move him. Go back to Olanet, I fear this disturbance is long reaching. Now go!”

The guards collected the viceroy and ran for the hangars. Muad raised the bloodied beskad into the air and released a roar that echoed audible and through the force. A beacon of defiance that would draw the creatures like a moth to a flame. And his ride to his location. The shaman of the Aegis Knights neared him. “Master, this is happening everywhere. Even in the city.” Another wave of monsters swarmed forward, keeping them busy several minutes until a roar filled the air and a massive shadow cloaked them all in its shade.

The six legged K’kayeh dragon landed on all six of its legs and opened its toothy maw to release a roar that lanced lightning from its gullet to decimate the horde. The sunlight glinted a rainbow of colors of the multi hued scales of the dragon. With a chuckle Muad bounded forward twice and leapt to the beast’s back, thighs clenching with feet and free hand finding hold upon the rows of scales.

“Knights of the Armory, hold your position. Use our mag trains, both aboveground and underground, and evac as many out of the city as possible. Get them here and get them space bound. Send in Aegis Troopers and our droids into the city to assist. And tell my Dirty Dozen to mount up and catch up to me. Seems the ones susceptible are the ones who are force sensitive. Keep them separate, keep them safe, and keep a wary eye on them. Oya Puff! Oya!”

The K’kayeh flapped its massive wings, flattening those on the sands, and rose into the skies. As the dragon drove them toward the spires of Golbah City Muad couldn’t help but grin. A man riding a massive dragon wearing only brown trousers and holding a sword wasn’t something you saw everyday.

Behind him he was able to sense the dozen soldiers, his elite vode, closing the distance upon their mechanical warmounts, the bes’uliik. With every passing minute a sense of urgency climbed to greater and greater heights. The K’kayeh turned toward the Citadel with little urging from his rider. Reaching out he gave the Dozen their orders, break by teams and land at the Citadel and defend those present. He was going to what would be a dangerous place. Where those weaker and ill prepared for such an attack. A place where the most monstrous converts could be made. A place that would need assistance if he arrived in time.

The Academy.

Puff, the Magik Dragon, dropped from the heavens and snapped its wings back along his spine to crash through two floors of the citadel to burrow toward the wing where the Academy lay. Tooth and claw with beskad and fire left no monsters alive in their wake.

Kyyrk Jalan Riyadosh Vytal Noctura Ashelia Dispara Willow Rann Thress @

 

[Kyyrk]

Jalan Riyadosh | Vytal Noctura | Ashelia Solidor | Dispara | Willow | Rann Thress
​

Voph was no stranger to being drenched in the life force of others. Nor was he a stranger to it being the very life force of his friends and allies. But it was a far different feeling when it was by his doing that they now lay motionless on the floor. The single white blade of his lightsaber provided illumination against the relative darkness of the command level. It had fallen quiet for now. But Voph knew more would come. Whatever it was, it was moving through the Knights. Those capable of answering the call of the Force, if weakened enough, would succumb. Even now, Voph could feel the tug at the back of his mind, inviting him to join their mighty hunt. Voph stepped over the bodies, walking back towards the command console. "Darcy, tell me you have something."

"Nightmother Vytal is on the premises."

Voph sighed quietly. That much he knew already. He keyed up a holomap of the Citadel, brow furrowing as he began to process the information spewing forth. "Display Knights Obsidian tracking protocols." "Boss, you know I can't..." "Override, Harsh Winter." information began to appear. The numbers within the Citadel were dwindling. It wasn't an attack, so much as a massacre. "Copy this information to my datapad. We need to move."

Voph waited for a moment as the data was collected, then took his datapad, turning to hurry towards the elevator shaft. As he ran, he issued a command that reached every active Knights Obsidian communication device, both present, and off world. "All active Knights, this is Lord Commander Voph, Citadel has fallen, I repeat, Citadel has fallen. I am initiating full external lockdown to contain the threat. Any combat capable Knights, rendezvous at Golbah City to assist with reclaiming the Citadel. To those of you still within the Citadel, rally at the hangar bays. If you are in need of assistance, we will attempt to reach you. If you're still alive, you will not be left behind."

Voph said nothing during his hasty descent down the shaft. The elevator had been damaged in the initial blast. So he had to rappel down using his grapple hook. What concerned him was the silence. His systems showed that the Communication had made it out. So why was no one answering? "Confederate High Command, this is Voph. We have a Code Black on Geonosis, I repeat, Code Black on Geonosis."

Voph's lightsaber hissed back on as he stepped out into the hallways of the main floor. He could sense Rann Thress was nearby. The others, not so much. He could also sense something foul emanating from the Lotus wing. Something he suspected was the cause of this. "Rann, if you can hear me, head towards the east junction. I'm right behind you, will arrive shortly after you do. I need help with something..."

 

[Willow]

Survive​

Location: The Academy
Tags: | Dispara | Muad Dib | Open

--------------

'This girl is tainted...'

'I'm tainted.' Willow thought back at the voice, frowning at it. But the other initiate had stopped, and a tainting seemed to be all that there was. Granted, when Dispara had turned about with her weapon ready for use, Willow had taken a step back. She couldn't blame the other, not in this situation, but she had been prepared to defend herself readily either way.

Thankfully, it didn't come to that. Something's happened; that was putting it mildly, and those words certainly didn't help to ease the redheaded witchling any at all. Not that she had been looking for comforting words, but to know for once that she wasn't crazy? Well...it really wasn't as comforting as Willow had hoped it might be. Everyone was affected by this...this whatever, and when the Sephie spoke about the veil, Willow groaned softly and pressed a hand to her forehead.

She had already been aware of the trouble with the veil due to her connection to both sides of it. So hearing that anyone else was aware of it too made her head immediately hurt. "What if there aren't any others to find?" she questioned, though already her feet were carrying her forward. "What if all we come across are infected?" That seemed a good way to describe anyone being consumed by this darkness. It had attempted to crawl through her like an infection, seeking to slow her limbs and consume her, body and mind both. Yes, infection seemed like a good enough description.

'Wisp!' the voice was sharp, demanding attention, and Willow gave it immediately. 'Back up!'

Again the redhead did as she was told, and this time she reached an arm out to bar across Dispara to keep the other from moving forward. She then started to move backward quickly, herding the Sephie as well. There was crashing, and things breaking apart from above them, accompanied by sounds that Willow didn't recognize but didn't sound like she wanted any part of. Pieces of the ceiling gave way and hit the floor harshly where the pair of initiates had formerly been standing.

"What in all of the Cosmos is that..?" she whispered, not knowing if Dispara would hear her or not, but in that moment Willow couldn't get the volume of her voice any higher. First body snatchers, and now something big/was crashing through floors above them? This day just kept getting better and better.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Equipment: The Blood of Dathomir Armor | Nightmother's Ward | Ring of Retrieval

Tag: Kyyrk | Jalan Riyadosh | Ashelia Solidor | Dispara | Willow | Rann Thress | Solanaceae | Knights Obsidian | Open
​

The Nightmother flung her hand to one side to cause the large doors of the complex to begin opening as she stalked toward the entrance. As the portal parted, she tapped into the Nihil Smokestone in her armor to boost the strength of her telepathy to cover the Academy. Sisters, Brothers, this is the Nightmother. Spirits have infiltrated our realm and taken possession of many. Tell me your location if you need assistance. Those able, move to the hanger bay for extraction. (Jalan Riyadosh | Ashelia Solidor | Willow | Dispara) Voph's instruction had come through on her link, but she would need to leave other areas to capable women and men to assist in the evacuation and containment.​

​

Her hand lifted to raise a gathering of beasts into the air. As Vytal walked under them, she threw her hand backward and sent the monstrous figures into the ground outside with no regard for how much force had been used. There was no need. Could they save them? Some of them, perhaps. All of them? From the corruption that spread the Nightmother doubted there was much left. It was a situation that needed dealt with quickly, but first she needed to tend to the students; then she would make for the Nethergate. They weren't terribly far apart.​

​

A rod was hefted from the floor by one foot as the pale Witch moved down the corridor. Given a twirl, Vytal knocked aside those that diverted from lesser prey and sought to delay her progress further. Permanently, if they could. Poor souls; so many were uneducated in the ways of Nightsisters. They were neither weak nor frail; and these creatures were not a well-regulated military. If they wished to ravage the world like beasts, then they would find a Nightsister more than educated in the ways of pacifying their kind.​

​

Without dallying about, Vytal moved into the Academy and directed those she found toward safety. The more experienced or powerful of the lot were assigned to cover those with much learning to go as they made for the hanger. Some were placed in charge of organizing effort in an area until everyone was assigned a group, but the Nightmother herself could not tarry. Too many to save, and a gate to the Nether to seal from their end as well.​

​

"Be calm," her raised voice echoed down the corridor as she found a rather sizeable group scrambling their way out from the direction of meditation chambers. The butt of the rod slammed into the ground and rang loudly. "Panicking is the surest way to get yourselves and everyone around you killed. If you panic here then you did not yet understand the gravity of dealing with the Nether." Experience was the best medicine, but it was always a bitter one. "You," she pointed to a Knight present, "lead them to the bay. Make sure the skilled are spread throughout the group to guard them from attack. Move quickly; it is no longer safe here until the source of this disaster is purged."​

​

The pale woman turned to begin moving on her way to find others and lockdown the gate when Jalan Riyadosh caught her green eyes. Vytal turned her palm up to conjure two Water of Life potions. Slowly she extended them out toward the woman. "These can heal you. Were any left behind?" There was no judgment in a time like this, only raw fact. Perhaps an obstruction blocked them. Perhaps everyone was simply too terrified to risk going back. Vytal just wanted to know if anyone knew others were still deeper in the facility.​

Template By: Darth Metus (Guy)​

 

[Dispara]

SURVIVE​

Location: The Academy, Golbah City
Tags: Willow Vytal Noctura Jalan Riyadosh Muad Dib

Finding another soul bolstered Dispara's courage and determination. But pale blue eyes narrowed at Willow's questions. They were legitimate questions, and one's Dispara didn't want to know the answers to. But the half-Sephie needed Willow to find her spine, for she was teetering on panic herself, and didn't need a push.

"I was able to overcome it, certainly others are too." She said, making sure to capture her companion's darker azure gaze. "And if all we find are ... infected, then we fight our way out." Dispara declared sternly. The monsters they may face were most likely fellow students, witches and knights, a fact she had already compartmentalized. Whoever they were, they were not those people anymore.

Suddenly Willow stopped, Dispara skidding a bit as the redhead's arm shot out and halted the blonde's step. "What....What?!" Dispara protested as Willow crowded her back. The pointed-eared initiate had the sense to allow the corralling, and after the loud crashing sounds she watched as parts of the ceiling collapsed right where they had been standing.

Dispara's gaze had shot upward, then down to Willow, pondering how she knew what was going to happen, and answering the question herself a breath later. Magic was strong in Wisp. Dispara looked again to her fellow initiate. "I don't know what the frak that was, but we..."

Her voice was cut off by another in her head. It was the Nightmother. The intimate communication from Vytal Noctura was an immediate comfort. It confirmed what was truly happening and a course of action. And it proved the Nightmother was with them.

Once again piercing light eyes looked to Willow, assuming she heard the same message. "Let's get to the hanger bay."

 

[Muad Dib]

Creatures of unknown substance littered the citadel. One part flesh, one part spirit, a total amalgamation that was an abomination. A mockery of what nature intended in the galaxy. What was once life became dead. But now the disease of the afterlife infected those who yet still lived. And the union was unholy. A desecration. A thing of darkest nightmares and most depraved imaginations.

It was into this reality the mad man found himself willing entering. Down the hall twisted beings of deformity gathered, their squealing cries echoing down the hall before the group charged. Muad meanwhile looked down upon the floor of the corridor and sensed beings below who were not yet infected. Youth and adults with a chance to live. Muad aimed to the floor with his beskad.

“Puff, would you be so kind? Afterwards eat as many of these despoilers as you wish. Don’t let any pass you.”

His communication was one part words and one part emotional imagery that travelled between the beast and the madman. With a roar, Puff slammed his head upon the ground tearing a hole in the floor and weakening the one below. Then the beast moved forward, past its master, to engage in the creatures. An appetizer of sorts.

With a smirk Muad leapt into the hole, bringing both feet together and legs straight, and when he hit the second level already weakened he smashed through to land in a crouch within a corridor containing creatures attacking several people by the illumination of flickering lights. Immediately he lunged forward, the edge of his beskad carving deep into the monsters who shrieked in pain and defiance.

Now he stood with his back to a small group of youth and a few adults, slowly retreating down the hall. The monsters roared and shrieked as their number grew for an inevitable charge. Mindless they may be, but they understood the glowing blue eyed man was death. And they were not yet ready to revisit the afterlife.

At the end of the hall was a turbolift. Quickly he motioned for them to pile in. He was almost amused at the packed image of them squeezing into the lift, but they all made it. And as he was about to retreat he saw the gathered crowd of monsters charge. He offered those in the turbolift a smirk before pressing the override controls on the exterior to shut the doors and send the lift on its way to safety. Then he turned and answered the charging roars with his own snarls of rage as he sprinted forward to meet them halfway.

And combat was joined.

Just before the two forces clashed, Muad dove forward, driving his sword upward to slice through crotches, legs, and even into stomachs as he slid by. With his momentum depleted he rolled the last several meters, entangling with the creatures to bring them down upon and around him in chaos. His beskad lanced through a chest, pulled free and struck across two arms, whipped back into another’s torso who managed to wrest the blade from the mad man’s grip. Undeterred Muad attacked, fingers gouging eyes, knife edged chops striking into soft tissue, joints grappled and bent in wrong directions until audible snaps were heard. More than once he mirrored a rabid creature himself as he used his teeth to rip exposed throats out.

The final three monsters left alive were merely stunned. Their small stature and only partially morphed features marked them somewhat different. Kneeling before them, his beskad once more in his blood stained grip, he looked upon the feral faces of children. But it was deeper that his eyes delved.

“Hod Ha’ran, unveil mine eyes. Reveal the lesser powers of tricks and let me see the truth.”

His utterance came second nature as he felt backwards into the connections forged once with a Patron of the Mandragora. His eyes grew serpentine, his pupils elongating with clarity. Dark spirits were latched upon the ade, but perhaps their force ability was strong enough to partially repel them or maybe just old fashioned good ole cussed stubbornness. Whatever it was, the spirits had not yet managed to make the transition complete and final.

Teeth glinted in the sparking light as he stretched forth and, using the ability gained as a Shaman, fielded the planes of existence. The spirits who were similarly transitioned squeals at what was coming, but to no avail. Muad’s jaw unhinged as fangs lengthened before the three dark spirits. And with an inhale he drew the creatures free of the children and into himself.

His jaw snapped shut and he blinked against the momentary weariness that gripped his form. It would pass in minutes, but he wouldn’t tarry with innocents in his care. The eldest girl stood, barely in her teens. The other two were young boys, not even ten summers yet. Kneeling before the girl he leaned forward, his callused left hand gripping her chin to gently focus her eyes on his own. Despite the fact that he was a man wearing only brown trousers, carrying a sword, and nearly covered in gore from the monsters and several lesser wounds of his own, his eyes revealed the truth. He was not an enemy.

“Girl, do not fear me. Take my beskad, my sword, and follow me. Whatever gets past me I need you to finish. Can you do this for me?”

She nodded and Muad handed over his beskad. He failed to mention that if anything got by him it would be because he was dead. But that wasn’t likely. At least that’s the story he supported as he gave her a nod and a smile to encourage and embolden the girl. The smaller children he tossed across his left shoulder, their dainty form not hindering him too much. And so with his left arm securing them in place they made their way down the corridors.

Several times he paused to violently kick in a few doors, survivors huddling inside. His retinue grew to nearly fifty, huddle close behind. A young woman carried the boys he previously was burdened with. But the girl stayed directly behind with the beskad held in the ready. They were currently passing through a portion of the academy on their way to exfil the group when, up ahead, he heard the commotion of several monsters scurrying around for new victims. The three creatures turned the corner and saw them, two unarmed except for their talons, the third sporting a sword in its claws. With a howl the three charged the group.

Snarling, the madman opened his hands to either side and summoned the force as he let the rage that flowed around him coalesce into his hands. Two balls of molten flame launched forward to the unarmed beasts, smoking chest cavities as the corpses slid across the ground. The Last swung the sword wildly with supernatural strength. He ducked the slicing blade and slammed into the creature, riding it to the floor to get both hands around its throat. With force empowered limbs he ripped the head from the torso and stood with the sword to move back to the teen girl to trade weapons.

“You take the sword ad’ika. I’ll take the beskad.” Let’s gp.”

The group continued on for the hangar bay prepared to collect any others met along the way.

Dispara Willow Jalan Riyadosh Vytal Noctura Kyyrk