Private Kill of the Night

[Ishani Dinn]

The nobles of Eliad were fabulously wealthy, but had nothing productive to spend their fortunes on. Out of boredom, they engaged in sophisticated and often demented forms of entertainment.

Lady Sypha, for example, was known for throwing wild parties at her vast and opulent estates. There she would play host to other nobles, the rich and the powerful, rubbing elbows with the galactic elite. The fact that Sypha had recently drawn the ire of the Sith for refusing to bend the knee had not put a damper on her plans; she had thrown yet another extravagant party and invited all the usual suspects.

Rhiannon was not on the guest list, but with a wave of her hand she dealt with the usher and was allowed into the palace. Decked out in finery and sparkling jewels, she certainly looked the part of a wealthy heiress. But while she was able to blend in, she showed little interest in the entertainments on display. No, she was here to hunt Lady Sypha, and she intended to complete her objective before the night was over.

Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Malum swept along the dance floors, some nameless partner in hand, as they moved in motion with the music playing. He was strangely enough in his element, hand on her hips, as hers was on his shoulder, both staring intensely at each other, with every swing of movement. Now, he had been raised in the arts of courtly dancing, every spin, every twirl, every bow, clap, and step, but it took much cajoling for him to ever show such knowledge off. Malum had long learned that when there was an occasion to show off his abilities it would only be in a room full of people.

Malum, to say the least, was not a people person.

So how could he have raised a storm across the floor, as he spun off his partner, and then took up the hand of another?

Well the black mask, glittering with red gems certainly played a major part. He knew Lady Sypha, not well, and not personally to any real degree, but he had certainly met the woman in his youth, in some long-forgotten trip to Eliad with his family to meet distant cousins who had made their home on the planet. It seemed the woman's eccentricities had not gone away, for looking about him, he was brought back to his youth, masks covering faces, as no one was quite sure who each other was, no one could easily make face to the person.

A masquerade ball, a truly novel concept. He could see himself when he was younger before he had seen so much death and destruction when his greatest fear had indeed been the upcoming ball. When his greatest fear had been walking to the ballroom, and fearing the looks and faces of all gathered, being forced to dance and have their attention. What joy had it been when Lady Sypha had smiled at him, and personally given him a mask to wear?

There were many a compliment to the young dancer that night and much joy from the Marr family that he had performed the roles of an heir so well.

Simpler times.

Easier times.

It really showed how grateful he was to the woman that had broken him out of his shell, that he was here to kill her.

Perhaps he should have shown more remorse at that, but oddly enough, he did not.

The Tsis'Kaar wished for her death, she had made her opposition to the upcoming Sith occupation clear, perhaps not by direct action, but no action was enough of treason. If he did not do his duty today, some other operative of his Mistress would. At least he could make it quick.

She deserved that much.

Really... she deserved so much more.

But such was the way of the world, was it not? He remembered an old adage, "the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must."

A stray tear passed by his cheek, that was all the regret he showed before the unemotional mask was placed back underneath the ornate black and red. He had a mission, that was all that mattered.

At the peripherals of his vision, he made out an attractive figure, blonde hair draping down from her head, perhaps his next dancing partner. He twirled away his partner into the arms of another, and made eye contact with her, offering his hand as a way to bridge the distance. The move was hers.

For another Sith to be here... that was not part of the plan.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

She'd been to a masquerade once before, many years ago, and had a general idea of how such parties were conducted. She wore a porcelain white mask, the face smooth and unrecognizable. The anonymity would certainly help.

Eventually she found Lady Sypha, gossiping with some of the other guests. The dancefloor stood between Rhi and her quarry. Trying to weave her way through the whirlwind of bodies proved futile. She would have to get creative.

A hand was offered, and she took it, allowing herself to be swept along with the current. At first she hardly paid her partner any attention, too focused on her goal of getting to the other side of the ballroom. But soon enough, bright green eyes found his red, and she caught the scent of the Dark Side.

"Well, well," she murmured, the mask hiding her expression. "If it isn't a fellow Sith. Not very subtle about it, are you?" The black mask, the red eyes, his noxious aura. Very Sith.

Sypha's anti-Sith sentiments were the very reason why Rhi had chosen to go after her, knowing she wouldn't be missed. At least, not by anyone Rhi would have to worry about angering. But it also meant that she would likely have competition - and in Malum of House Marr, it seemed her rival had finally made an appearance.

Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

"Subtly was never my strength, charming is more accurate, wouldn't you agree?" Malum responded with a chuckle, a split-second decision realising there would be no point in convincing the woman that she was mistaken, he twirled her around, and as he considered his options, it was plainly evident now that he was not the only one assigned to this mission, the scent of the Darkside was plainly evident in his partner. Was this some test from his Mistress? Perhaps, but it was equally as likely that this woman had some other master who wished for Lady Sypha dead. Maybe he was wrong entirely, maybe she was here for some other target, and even less likely maybe she was here for no violent reason at all, there were other Sith nobles on Eliad apart from his distant kin, and this was a party for nobles.

Very unlikely.

Truly, at the end of the day did it matter which one of them slayed the noble lady? Either way, the mission would be completed successfully, and they could return to their respective abodes to their respective matters and gain whatever rewards were owed to them. That is what a rational actor would have concluded, and Malum did prize himself on being a rational actor. Yet, he did still have his principles, and principles were of annoyance when it came to matters such as these, ironic enough as it was that an assassin who specialised in murder and suffering would speak of some honour in their craft. Still, he did wish to give Lady Sypha a quick and painless death, and this woman in front of him may not have a similar opinion.

He gazed down at the green-eyed woman, gazing down further when the moment of the dance reached that his hand was at her back, and he was staring down at her.

"Short" His mind idly commented, as they returned to the starting position, hand in hand, hand on a shoulder, and hand on waist.

She was good, but proficiency with dance would not exactly provide an answer to who she was, and there was not much to proceed on with, green eyes, blonde hair, an attractive figure? One might have considered her painting of a noble lady. That was of course until one found out who she was, a Sith like him, a killer like him, a liar like him. Odd that with such similarities, he did not feel a kinship with the woman, for them at the end of the day... were rivals.

After the same prey.

Malum had always been childish in a sense, one of those senses had been a rather stringent desire to be the best at all he attempted.

To be the victor, to be the best, over all else who attempted a similar task.

And as childish as it was, he wished to complete the mission today, and if that meant depriving the woman before him the opportunity to complete her mission, well, that would have to be the case.

"Now before we switch partners this eve, may I have the beautiful lady's name, and perhaps we might relocate to a more private alcove, to continue this conversation?" He softened his eyes as he said so, let him play the infatuated fool, and take her away to a place to be distracted, then... then he could make the strike for Lady Syphas.

He would do what he had to win.

A victory for mercy, of course, not one for his pride.

At least, that is what he told himself.

Ishani Dinn

(Imagine with mask)​

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Rhi stifled a groan. “And here I thought charming Sith were in short supply these days.”

They were poorly matched as dance partners, mainly because of the significant difference in height between them. She figured he was at least a foot taller than her—the top of her head barely came up to his shoulders. But they finished the dance without incident, and he asked to meet her somewhere private.

She opened her mouth to reject the proposal outright. She was not interested in him, or at least not in the way he seemed to be interested in her. But he was clearly strong in the Force, and would no doubt make for a far better kill than Sypha… and she would be eliminating a rival.

At the same time, she had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t as foolish as he seemed. Sith rarely were. No, this one was crafty. She would simply have to be more clever than him.

“Rhiannon,” she replied, lowering her voice into more sultry tones. “By all means, lead the way.”

Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

"Alas, no, we just are difficult to find, appear to particularly... interesting specimens." He smiled underneath the mask, seemingly he had her hook, line, and sinker, seemingly. Rhiannon, was it? He could not say he recognised the name, though the sultry voice... that was interesting. He gently tugged along her hand, leading towards a hidden alcove that was in fact a balcony. He nodded simply towards other nobles that they passed by, hidden communication that had been built over years of proper training in etiquette, hidden signals with unknowable meanings, some of the males, perhaps more confident, perhaps more inebriated, perhaps just more crass, clapped him on the shoulders as he passed, leering at his companion. Which earned many a sharp glare, as he put himself between her and their vision. Whatever competition was possibly between him and the woman, he was not about to let her be disrespected, by those that certainly should know far better. Perhaps there were others in this ball that deserved to be forfeited from life.

The moon shined down upon them in a brilliant white light, as it was joined by many a cluster of stars, twinkling gently contrasting with the dark visage of the night sky. Scenes like this were picturesque in song and literature, of the noble lord and noble lady, having spent themselves in a passionate dance, the light of the chandelier having shined splendidly on their suits and dresses, before they clandestinely slipped off from the night's celebration to a private locale, wherein their passion could be revealed without any but their eyes baring witness.

He could see the irony as plain as day, and perhaps the romantic in him longed for it, but unfortunately, this night, it was most certainly not to be. The cold winds of the night gave him a brief shiver, as his eyes turned back to consider his partner. His short partner, his mind idly reminded him. A fellow Sith here, likely here to execute the same woman he was, very problematic, both of those things. Still, he could not make a move until he found out more.

Hands still entwined, he bent to kiss her fingers, as etiquette demanded, before rising, and speaking, "How rude of me, I am Malum of House Marr, a pleasure to come to your acquaintance," As curious as he was regarding the sultry tone she had used before, he was not a man to be controlled by such emotions... well most of the time... especially not when he was assigned a mission, still, there was no reason they could not be used to his advantage.

He crossed the distance between them, as a finger crossed the threshold, trailing down her mask to her blonde locks, "I have come here to kill someone, I assume you have a similar mission," He stated softly, his breath visible in the cold air that separated them, "Tell me, who you were sent to kill, and who your master is." He willed the force through him, if an attack from her would come, it would come now. As much as he could wish for there to not be a fight between them, he would have to prepare for that eventuality, and then after killing her, moving on to finish his mission.

Such was the way of things.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

The Sith—who finally introduced himself as “Malum of House Marr”—led them outside. Before they crossed the threshold into the moonlight, Rhi covertly pulled a tiny vial from a concealed pocket in her dress. Removing the cap, she reached up as if to push back some of her hair, dripping some of the liquid inside the vial on her neck and rubbing it against the inside of her wrist. It dried rapidly, leaving no visible trace. Only a pleasant scent in the air…

Once they were alone together, he stooped to kiss her hand, then revealed his true intentions. It was as she suspected: he was here to assassinate Sypha, and this was all just a ploy to get Rhi out of the way.

Rhi laughed. “I have no master,” she said, pulling off her mask. “And as for why I’m here… maybe I’ve come for you.” Touching his cheek, she pulled him in for a kiss. But as soon as their lips met, her touch became predatory and she began to drain him.

Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Breathing in unseeable and unknowable fumes, Malum felt more and more intoxicated, as he felt her soft lips, on his. A waviness fell upon him, as his concerns before, of a mission, of murder, of distrust and paranoia, fell away from him. The romantic in him swooned, as stories of his youth returned to him, all at once, of the midnight audience, of the intimate embrace in the moonlight. The fade to darkness as something far beyond simple romance bloomed forth from nothing. For a simple moment, his fears and inhibitions failed him, as one hand moved to wrap itself around the figure, while another lifted her chin gently, to better accommodate their difference in height. A hunger filled him, something primeval and barbarous, he felt weak in the knees as he forgot the feelings he held for another, forgot his fears for the Order, forgot the fears he held for himself and his family. Such a precious joy, that moment was.

It was unfortunate, that it could only last a moment.

Consume Essence was to be his Psychometry, he had long ago declared, and it gave the first hint that something was wrong. Feelings of victory and pride flooded his form, odd enough for such feelings to emanate from the woman, it was even more strange for the power that surged towards him... to then disappear.

It was a cyclical motion, he could feel himself be weakened, only to then be strengthened, and then have that strength be taken away again, over and over. Yet, if the weakness in his knees was any indication, the fuzziness on his brow, the slow loss of his vision. He was losing this fight.

A sadness struck him, he was being used. For a moment he had thought... well, that he had indeed received the attentions of a truly beautiful woman. Through his looks, his charm, and being himself... he had brought himself to a new height. Her lips tasted of ash now, he was losing his footing, and dizziness was striking his head, if he did not do something, she would have him.

She could kill him.

Anger took hold. How dare she manipulate him like this. Toy with his heart, and toy with his feelings.

The softened visage that he took on broke, as his eyes opened with a snap.

Forcing his Force reserves into his hands, he gripped onto her with a claw-like vice grip. He broke off the kiss and stared down at her with a weak saddened smile.

"I had hoped it did not come to this." He said simply, his breath heaving, a lot had been taken out of him it seemed.

The Force tingled at his fingers, and Malum gazed softly at the moon, before looking back down upon Rhiannon, if that was her real name at all, the Force left his hands like a tidal wave, as within a flash she was thrown across the balcony, Malum only being able to look on sadly. He could not make out anybody, broken or not, perhaps that was a blessing, she would rest among the canopy of forest and woodland critters, she was likely dead, though Malum would not take the chance.

He balanced himself on the railings as he leaned down to pocket his mask, leaving hers alone to be forgotten, as she would be, what was another life at this point? He clasped it back on, and again, the emotionless assassin was back, one which would not fall to manipulation so simply again.

---

He returned to the party, ragged, some of it from how weak he felt, but most from the purposeful tears and rips he had made into his clothes. Some of the nobles looked on with awe and concern, while others gathered around to help him.

"The Sith, the Sith are here!" Malum gave out gaspy breaths, internally smirking, as terror took hold of the ballroom. Through it, he could make the figure of Lady Sypha, attempting to keep order. She was so close, and now, without any distractions, he began moving to her. In this chaos, one may not notice the hostess's disappearance, and with that, Malum would be able to end this mission and attempt to forget all that he had done.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Oh, but he was strong in the Force... His power flowed into her, intoxicating. It was rare that she found prey this potent. She wanted to savor it—

But just as things were getting good, she found herself shoved back—and then she was flying through the air, her feet having left the ground. Leathery wings flexed, catching her before she could crash into the trees. She grit her teeth, biting back a hiss of rage as she lunged toward the balcony… only to find it empty. Not even her mask remained.

So Malum had wised up. But she could still “taste” his essence. He was weakened. Vulnerable. Easier prey than ever.

Alighting on the balcony, she tucked in her wings and strode back into the ballroom. Chaos had broken out as the guests rushed to the nearest exits. Rhi forced her way through the crowd, though her progress was slow, until she spotted Lady Sypha—and Malum fast approaching.

She rushed forward, knocking several fleeing guests down in her haste, and seized Sypha by the throat. Security attempted to intervene, but Rhi flung them back with a blast of telekinetic energy. For all intents and purposes, she had become the Sith Malum had tried to warn them about.

It was weirdly gratifying, no longer having to blend in and hide what she was.

“Malum!” she shouted. “Is this what you want?” She held Sypha in her grasp. Summoning her sword from the Nether, she pointed it at him. “Come and take her, then!”

Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

She had wings, of course, the blasted woman had wings, of course, the one woman he blasted off a balcony would have wings. That was just his luck, was it not?

Malum glanced down to his side, underneath his robes were a lightsaber, should he bring it out now? A good assassin would never need to have, and a good assassin would certainly not be at the centre of attention, but this was far from a normal assassination.

Seems like a battle it was to be.

Reaching down to his hidden belt, a lightsaber that was far different than the one he would carry revealed itself, and igniting it with a hiss, it shimmered in colour that was far different from anything he would have wielded, though that was far from evident to anyone in attendance, all who were far enough away to not be able to properly see the colour of his eyes.

Blue.

Blue was a rather beautiful colour, calm as the ocean, bright as the sky, but it was not his colour.

But for tonight it would be.

He pointed it towards Rhiannon and smirked beneath his mask, a good assassin would not be looking forward to a duel either, but, he had much to learn after all. Was it not when one was a student that they had the opportunity to have fun after all?

"The Sith have been foiled, again and again, it shall happen today too, at my hand." Pure fiction was the words he spoke, but with a mask on his face, anyone could be a great actor, "Withdraw your hands from the lady and surrender yourself to me, and I shall guarantee your protection." So Lady Sypha had been Rhiannon's target, ah, if only she had said so, perhaps they could have negotiated an outcome to their mutual benefit, the ghost of her lips on his brought an end to that thought process.

A hardened heart and hardened eyes looked on, the only way this would end would be with his victory, and her defeat.

The Force flowed through his free hand, as though he had been weakened, he still had fight within him, attempting to grasp onto Rhianon with the Force, he would attempt to fling her away, keep her away from Lady Sypha and then move in between them. Rather odd for an assassin to defend his target, but this was far from normal circumstances.

Let her attempt to strike at him with him with her katana, see how far she gets.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

“Okay, smartass!” Rhi exclaimed. “You want to make it look like a Jedi versus Sith duel? Fine!” She tossed Sypha aside like a ragdoll. “Both your souls will be mine before the night is over!”

Nobody wanted to come near them now, which at least removed the threat of security intervening. This was their fight and their fight alone.

Malum’s first move was to push her back with telekinesis. Rhi resisted his exertions, though her feet did slide a few inches across the floor. With her hands balled into fists at her sides, she spat a gout of flame toward him in retaliation.

Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

There was likely a problem when the majority of the women in his life wanted his soul, his Mistress had wanted it metaphorically, while Adeline wanted it literally, he was not entirely sure in what meaning the woman before he wanted his. Such claims would have certainly made him think it was figurative, however with such anger painted across her face, he could only wonder if it was literal. She was a Sith, after all, those adjacent to him were far from above acting within the mystical and occult. It was an advantage whether he liked it or not, and indeed it would behoove him to learn of those arts, lest he falls behind.

She was losing all essence of calm from the looks, allowing her anger to grow evident as he shouted breaking off the cover to all that would hear. Malum said nothing, let the attendants make of her words what they would, he had made himself a Jedi in appearance, and hopefully, that would be all it took to convince onlookers by the time this day was done.

Dark tendrils hidden from all reached out from him and snapped onto Rhiannon, they would not harm her, at least not physically, and indeed she was likely to not notice them. Consume Essence filled him with lost energy, lost power, those things that she had stolen from him, he would take back with interest to boot. She had wanted to bleed him dry with her lips, and she would have succeeded too, but could she do it with the distance between them?

His plotting and thoughts were interrupted as a fireball burst out of Rhiannon's mouth, coming towards him. His eyes widened as he raised his free hand towards the oncoming fireball. Convection? No, the fireball was far stronger than Convection would allow, which meant... she likely had control of fire more powerful than he did. That was probably evident enough by the fact that it had been launched from her mouth, in theory the Force could be used from any part of their body, but there was a reason most were content with their hands. He glanced down at the ring on his fingers, it burned hot. Though inanimate, whispering to be used.

Not now.

He flowed the force through him, towards his fingers, and as it seemed the fireball was about to hit him, it dissipated into a mist. He breathed out softly, Cryokinesis was of Lightning, and Convection, the one he had been the most uncertain of. Far less outwardly offensive than the other two, and thus one which was hard to experiment with, unless ironically your feet were on hot coals.

Through the mist, Malum burst forth, from the corner of his eyes he could see Lady Sypha staring on in wonder, surrounded by her guards, ironically that was a good thing, that his assassination target was safe, that meant, he could focus all energy on removing his dance partner from existing. Then, then he could return to his assignment.

Nothing wrong with mixing business with pleasure, no?

His blade swung towards her upper body, the goal to take her head off and end this fight immediately.

Death, death was what he has judge, jury, and executioner had realised her fate should be.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Malum managed to survive the blast of flames she spat at him. The room was filled with smoke afterwards, making several of those lingering cough.

Rhi raised her sword to parry Malum’s swing toward her neck. The Force-imbued blade crashed into the lightsaber. Rhi didn’t stop there. She wasn’t as strong as him, perhaps, but she was quick and nimble, striking fast, trying to get through his guard.

He was clearly seeking to dispatch her as quickly as possible, but Rhi was under no such duress. She didn’t want to kill him outright during the duel; she wanted to defeat him so she could drain his life force. Any sign of impatience from him, she sought to take advantage of, timing her strikes just right. She aimed for his limbs, hoping to hack off a hand, and his chest, where she might puncture a lung and leave him choking on his own blood.

Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Strength competed with speed, every one of his heavy attacks would be met with a struggled block, while every one of her fast attacks forced the momentum to return to her, as he went back onto the defense, counting the battle in his head, he would have certainly lost a hand, perhaps been stabbed through the chest, if he had not just barely managed to bring his blade back to counter. Still, it was not like she had been getting her fair licks in, for Malum let out many a hiss, as her blade got too close to his form, near enough to begin burning skin.

"You should have told me you were a better dancer with a blade than your hands," Malum said snidely and quietly, barely more than a whisper as they locked blades again, and Malum was face to face with the Sith opposite him, eyes blazed as he glared angrily forth, he had allowed himself to be humiliated, and far beyond that, he had been unable to remove an obstruction to continue his own mission.

It was at that point that the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, as he continued to consume power and strength from the one opposite, furthering to take from all those still remaining in the room. Fear and shock were most of the emotions he felt, though from the one in front anger still ranged demonstrably.

Yet that was not why a sudden feeling of nervousness grasped onto him.

"Fuck." Malum's mind alerted him, as blasters began firing in their general direction, their target being him or Rhiannon mattering little, for how close their distance had been. Malum grit his teeth, and as his eyes went to his side, he had brought it just in case, but did he want to admit that the woman in front of him was worthy of that? Was it enough to state it was only brought out due to external interference?

All questions he could only debate with himself if he lived.

Reaching to his side, a secondary blue lightsaber revealed itself in all its oceanic glory, now one hand blocked blaster bolts, while the other continued to move in its flurry of attacks, if she was faster than him then all he had to do was slow her down.

He had practiced long and hard since the last time he had attempted this, the last time having put him out of commission as he electrocuted himself. But he knew he could do it, knew he had to do it.

The Force flowed through his fingers, and then through his lightsaber, once again the link was made, the lightsaber being part of his hand as any of his fingers. Now, all he had to do was bring power through the connection.

He breathed in and then out softly, his red eyes shined as brilliantly if oppositely as his saber, the moment of truth.

A sheen of sparks erupted out of his fingers, as they traveled through his lightsaber, the blade had seemingly become electrified as lightning short forth out of the tip, its aim towards the Sith woman with the force-imbued katana.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Rhi sensed the incoming blaster shots and reached out to absorb the energy into her hand. Malum dealt with them by producing a second lightsaber and deflecting them.

“They must not believe in your little farce anymore,” she hissed, slashing at his neck with her blade. If they truly believed he was a Jedi on their side, they wouldn’t be shooting.

Unless, of course, they thought she was going to win the fight anyway. Heh.

The lightning, she couldn’t fend off. Her attempts at using Tutaminis to disperse it only delayed the inevitable. Electricity coursed through her body, leaving her flesh smoking. She cried out in agony, unleashing a powerful scream of raw rage and suffering upon Malum.

Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

His blade came in front of his neck, blocking a particularly nasty blow that would have otherwise cleanly lobbed off his head. That was problematic for numerous reasons, least of all that he particularly liked where his head was. The lightning striking her bought him precious time, even if it was only a few seconds, his other blade continued to act as a shield, deflecting bolts, her words making it evident the truth he had denied, that his farce had been seen through, he grit his teeth as bolts now reflected back towards the shooters, every blast resulting in a short scream, as men fell, their blasters clattering towards the floor.

Perhaps her words had been lies, perhaps they had only been shooting to aid him, it mattered little, the farce was fraying at the seams, and now all he cared about was ending Lady Sypha quickly, and it seemed for a moment, this moment, the opportunity to do so was becoming clear. Rhiannon was struggling with the effects of the lightning striking her body, and Sypha could only look on shellshocked, as her guards died around her. This was his moment.

He felt the mask fall from his face, as he grits his teeth, one knee falling to the floor, and he bowed his head, all in an attempt to make the noise cease. Yet it was not just the ringing in his ears that caused him to stall, but the ringing in his very core, his heart, as the Force within him began to seize and became chaotic as the oceans.

"Force... scream...?" Malum let out, as he scrunched his eyes shut. He had used such an ability against his Mistress to a rather shallow reception, was that because Hatred was a weaker ability? Perhaps, or perhaps it just showed clearly how tipped the balance of power was between himself and Darth Ophidia.

He opened his eyes, and looked upon the fuzzied world, dizziness filled his mind, as he attempted to orientate himself.

He had to move, away from her.

Or indeed, move her away from him.

Willing the force to his hands, for once having trouble doing so, concentrating while the scream tore through his mind. He finally stilled the chaotic waters, finally to a flowing stream. Even when he had been entirely cut off from the Force, he had more control than now. He willed the Force to push her away, push her against the wall, just push her away from his presence entirely. Then flowed through more lightning, he just needed time, and if that was granted all else would follow.

Then he turned, pressing forth towards his target, his blades marching forth menacingly, as Lady Sypha lay surrounded by dead bodies.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

The push silenced her scream, but she was better prepared for the second round of lightning that followed. Tutaminis absorbed the energy, which she then blasted back toward Malum as he stalked toward Lady Sypha.

“Bastard!” Rhi roared. Stretching out with the Force, she began to leech energy from the noblewoman, draining her life force in order to heal herself.

Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Malum hissed as the lightning was reflected back onto him, b i t c h just could not leave him alone. He felt bruises, burns and cuts work their way up his arm and to his torso. It was as if a thousand dagger cuts, alongside plunging one's hand into boiling water acted simultaneously. He may have fallen onto his knees, if not only for his gaze resting upon Lady Sypha, her face was quickly paling, as her gaze was centred on him. A flicker of recognition as she was quickly losing her will to live. She was being drained, she was being drained and she recognised him.

He grunted as he raised his lightsaber, blocking the flow of lightning towards his body, as pure instinct took hold of him.

He threw his other blade in a horizontal arc.

She was suffering, slowly, her life used to feed that of another.

Suffering was the one thing she did not deserve.

Let peace come before him, let her become one with the Force.

The blade moved as quickly as the lightning, and in one moment, she was whole.

And in the other, her head was separated from her body, flying through the air like a ball, as her body quickly collapsed onto the floor.

No more distractions then.

Hateful eyes turned towards Rhiannon.

She would die tonight.

He held his remaining lightsaber tightly as the lightning stream ended, an idle realisation that the lightning had been his own, and not hers.

B i t c h.

He opened his mouth, and with all the emotions that swirled around him, the anger, the rage, the despair, and the hate, pure hatred swelled out of him in waves, their target being clear, as Malum rushed forth, lightsaber pointed towards the heart of the enemy.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Sypha’s life was nearly spent, the noblewoman’s energy consumed by Rhiannon to sustain her mortal form. She could feel her strength increasing, little by little, as she absorbed the essence. Perhaps some part of Lady Sypha would live on in her, a piece of who she had been. But no, that was foolishness—you don’t gain the soul of the donor whose lifesaving blood was transfused into your veins.

Then, suddenly, the stream of energy stopped. Lady Sypha’s head popped off almost like a doll’s head, her neck reduced to a blackened stump by Malum’s burning blade.

Rhi grit her teeth in a snarl as the man came running toward her, the Dark Side radiating off of him in waves. She had never fed on another person’s rage or despair or hatred before, but she considered it now. He wouldn’t let her have his life, after all, so why not take something else of use from him?

But she did not. Instead she darted out of the way, narrowly escaping his blade.

“Should I be flattered that you loathe me so much, Malum of House Marr?” she sneered, aiming a warding slash at the back of his arm, intending to keep him at arm’s length while she spun toward the other end of the empty ballroom. “All it took to nearly end your life was a pretty face and a magic perfume. Next time, maybe don’t wear your heart on your sleeve.”

With a flapping of leathery wings and a flash of yellow hair, she flew toward the balcony from which he had thrown her off only a short time ago and disappeared into the night.

Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

His breathing grew heavy, as he leaned upon the railings, his eyes returning to their normal form, as the dilation from rage passed. Behind him, stood many corpses, and in front of him stood a silent night, the only light the moon shining down upon him. Well, this was certainly a twist to the fantasy romances he had read.

He started laughing, a maddened darkened laugh that shook the railing.

Oh gods did his body hurt. His arms shook in pure agony, as his mind did its best to pump his body filled with chemicals to such a stage that he could barely feel anything at all.

A dizzying sensation took hold of him, seemed lots of the injuries were not exactly visible or physical either.

It was odd how horrid he felt, for as far as he could see, his opponent had taken the worst of the fighting, yet that was likely made up for by the fact that she far surpassed him in the ability to heal herself, by stealing the essence of others.

He had succeeded at his mission at the very least, he thought, as he swayed away from the railing, and sat down by the doorway that had led to the balcony. His breath was still heavy, and his body still felt like shit, with burns and welts and bruises and aches covering every inch of his form.

Succeeded in the most brutal sense, Lady Sypha was dead, and he had kept his promise, it was quick, and she had not suffered anything more than some fear.

Yet the underlying point of the mission was far from a success, he had not been clean, nor had he been subtle. Considering the circumstances neither of them could be helped, he had not expected another assassin to be here. Yet blaming that alone would not be entirely fair. It was him that had fallen for her advances.

He still could feel her lips on his, yet it felt like death and disease now. Manipulation had somehow hurt more than the lightning, it was one thing to be struck by a physical attack, but it was quite another to fall for a trap set to succeed due to his personality. It was clear it was not entirely his fault, she had done... something, to him, to make him fall more blindly to her advances than normally, but the core of it was still his fault, he had wanted to fall for her advances... and it had cost him dearly.

He would need to report her appearance to his Mistress as soon as possible. Both to learn whatever he could of her, the name Rhiannon could be an alias, but at the same time, it may have indeed been her real name, and too to make his Mistress aware of her presence on the planet, she could be a very problematic individual to Tsis'Kaar influence, if she was indeed a foe.

As the rage and anger gave away, and instead all he was left with was sore muscles, exhaustion, and the cool wind of the nightly air. It was hard to call this a victory, certainly.