Lords of the Sith: Primacy

[Ashin Varanin]

"You want Sith to sacrifice, do you? Well, Zankarr or whoever you are in there...you keep what you kill. And you'll not sacrifice any of my Sith. Those who ultimately choose to stand outside the Order and the Empire are our common enemies. I expect you to be satisfied with that."

 

[Asemir]

The Forgotten stepped out from the shadows, rifle up and sighted on the man’s head and chest. The sharp retort of gunfire echoed through the chamber, loudly and painfully to those standing nearby. He fired in semi-controlled bursts, letting the recoil direct his fire, and only aiming enough so he was firing in the general vicinity of Reyven Samoth. There was no need to be clean, just effective.

And efficiency meant that his trigger finger double tapped the secondary trigger, sending a white phosphorous grenade at the Sith Master. The explosive detonated before it reached its target, sending a cone of the volatile element spraying forth. Clean, white flame. Purity. To banish the dark.

There was no honor to Asemir’s approach. Honor was for the academics. The battlefield demanded brutal efficiency.

Would the conflagration kill the Sith Master? The Forgotten doubted it, but it would certainly hinder the man. Let him devote precious energies and concentrations to extinguish the flames devouring his body and to expunge the poisons leaching calcium from his bones. Let him figure out why his nerves refused to function as the phosphorus destroyed the ion channels powering his muscles. Let Reyven Samoth deal with the agony coursing through his body.

Asemir didn’t care. He simply fired round after round at the flames lapping at the body.

 

[Carbon]

Outside the 'Throne'

Drop ships came screaming in low across the canopies, branches beating out an off key tune on their lower hulls. Ahead, the pilots could see their objective, and as one they all bore down on it like avenging birds of prey.

4,678 Supercommandos, plus the remaining crew of his dead ship. More than enough to fulfill his part of the bargain. Not all were in gunships though. Escape pod bays had been converted to drop pods, and those impacted the ground around the building.

Geysers of dirt obscured the air as the metal pods unfolded their doors and unloaded their cargo. Soon after, dropships landed and disgorged their cargo, doing so in waves to keep things running smoothly.

Emberli was the last off, only because he'd been the last to abandon ship. Hopefully Ashin was doing alright.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Ashin's eyes found Radon's.

You see? Everything is under control. When everyone realizes that five thousand Mandalorians just landed around this fortress, on my orders, I'll rely on you to deal with the troublemakers.

 

[Garza]

Darren was full of his anger. It felt good, yet bad. He was not going to do this. Darren stood up straight. and looked at Shorn. he shook his head, and looked at the ground. "You fight me for what. because I wont shut up? A lame excuse. I fight for freedom. When I realize now that It wont happen. None of what I have worked for will happen unless all of the possible troubles are gotten rid of. " Darren turned off his blades. and replaced them on his belt. He was wasting time here fighting this Sith.

The voice came to him pleading "Fight this sith and you can prove your worth. He will be your gate way to freedom for our mother!" Darren was not going to. He had realised that he was being used. This entire scam that Ashin had was just to get into power. He felt anger. So much anger. Darren moved to Spencer. he would stand right next to her. If he could save at least one person he would save her. She was going to be turned by Ashin out of lust for power. Thought the force he said to Spencer only "They are using you Jedi. They use your skills to further your own gain. They will ruin you and everything you have ever done. Leave while you can. Do not end up like the people here."

Darren was going to protect Spencer so she could at least try and get out. He was not going to let another person end up like him.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

"Aw, way to crash the party." Mikhail made a pouting face. "Here all these good people were expecting a fight between handsome, devious, charming Mikhail and... the other guy. We can't let them down." Mikhail stretched his neck forward. He smiled, toothless and mocking. "Ooh, look at me, I fight for freedom, I'm Darren Shaw." His eyes were cold. "That's bull. You're a wannabe." He twirled the red blade in his hand idly. Darren might have deactivated his lightsabers, but Mikhail was not finished quite yet. "You talk a lot smack about being an idealist. But, well... all bark and no bite." Mikhail widened his derisively above the mocking grin.

Their conflict was momentarily stalled as a fight broke out between Lord Samoth and one of Ashin's henchmen. Mikhail watched, curious for a moment as explosions rocked the throne room. Ashin's underling certainly did not take the subtle approach. Shorn turned back to Darren.

"I don't want to fight you because you won't shut up," Mikhail said, ceasing his twirling of the blade and pointing it at Darren. "I want to fight you because you're an idiot who needs to die."

The Dark Side welled within Mikhail. He reached out and grasped Darren in the Force and yanked him forward, aiming to spit the Jedi on his raised lightsaber. Mikhail's skill with telekinesis was his second area of exceptionalism, swordplay being the first. Even a Knight would not be able to resist the power Shorn wielded in this area, though but an apprentice. No simple wave of the hand and a dispelling of power would stop Darren's trajectory toward Mikhail's crimson blade. The man would need to act, and act with intent, skill, and power, or else... perish.

 

[Darth Voracitos]

"I have had quite enough of this, if you are to be mine then I must see how far you may be pushed before breaking. Are you quite finished yet? I don't have all day, and I haven't eaten since the Star Port." His anger and rage cooled slightly, though his eyes remained vigilant, gleaming yellow, in an almost reptilian reflection. He ignored everything, the plant lady and her incantations, the power hungry Sith vying for the challenge, the strange alien subduing him, the duels between Knights. They were unimportant to his mission this day, in fact they were little more important than insects. He pointed to his opponent.

"I believe you would make a most suitable replacement for my evening meal." His free hand flexed with a shadow of red, a particular dark energy that would feed him a plenty upon such a feast as Ashin.

 

[Radon Mont]

Radon didn't say anything and didn't move. He was cold, calm, collected. Though he was carrying on a conversation with Ashin through the Force, not a soul within the chamber knew what they were actually talking about. That was good. They didn't need to know that if they rose up against Ashin he would see them put down. The Mandalorians were arriving, but that didn't bother him in the slightest. Let them arrive. Their numbers would either incite a rise in violence or cool the collected masses. Great warriors though they were, he doubted a Sith would be truly quelled by their presence. Enraged would be a more likely response. He was wary of them, especially the plant woman and her army.

The Dark Jedi. You either hold something of his, or know who does. I want to know what it is. I can crush him, make him a truly subservient pawn, but I need the knowledge to do so. His eyes drifted to the fat Sith, the one that was calling Ashin out. What a disgrace. A disgusting disgrace. He truly hoped that Ashin would kill him and rid the Empire of his useless hide. If not, Radon would surely seek the means to do so. He would trouble no idiocy in this new Empire. That was why he was there, to control people because he knew the ways to do it. He wasn't going to lead people into battle. He wouldn't be that visible. But he would be there, working in the shadows and taking care of the idiotic problems when they arose.

 

[Reyven Samoth]

He sighed again. "Ah yes, a true show of cowardice." He felt the first burst of bullets catch him in his left shoulder, a good grouping, but not vital. He reached up with his right hand and gripped the pillar he was leaning against, breaking the massive stonework of a segment and slamming it down in front of him, letting the remaining bullets and flames get soaked up by it. With very casual movements, he stood, fitting his mask to his head once more, before focusing the Force to his shoulder, knitting flesh, bone, and tendon back together forcefully. He looked at the blood on the stone behind him and shrugged. Still, he maintained a part of his concentration on the skies above and earth below, working up further energy.

"And a cowardly Jedi dog is not fit to rule Sith." He rolled the damaged shoulder. It was in good enough condition to function. That was all that concerned him. The flaming piece of stone was lifted once more and moved along with him as he walked to the side a bit, the crystals banded to his left arm glowing darkly as he swelled energy into it. Lightning crackled along the limb as he used the Force to see his opponent through the rock. With rapid succession, a spear of midnight black was flung through the rock, breaking a hole in the center and sending a spear towards the gun-wielding man.

Giving pause to see if the man moved, he followed him and fired a single concentrated bolt of lightning through the recently-made hole to fry him.

 

[Asemir]

Reyven Samoth was fast. Asemir would give him that. He was powerful and talented with the Force. Asemir would also concede those points to him. But Reyven Samoth was no Sivter. Or Arksis Nan. Or Rolf Valkner.

As soon as he saw that the Sith had yanked a chunk of stone from the masonry, Asemir had discarded his rifle. He let the weapon clattered against the floor, and his songblade was unsheathed with a hum of sliced air. The movement was natural, smooth, honed to perfection after thousands of hours of rote memorization. It was pure muscle memory.

It was also pure muscle memory that sent Night Terror in a downward stroke to deflect that spear of Force energy, sending the bolt careening to explode harmlessly into some background structure. But the smile that Asemir wore, the smile hidden behind the mask of his armor, that was not muscle memory. That was born from genuine mirth as Reyven's next attack came barreling through the boulder shielding him.

The cackle of Force lightning consumed the Forgotten with a hideous and eye-searing array of light and sound. It blasted him with the energy of a thousand storms, gigawatts of electricity all concentrated on one focal point. The energy was immense, summoned by Reyven Samoth's mastery of the Force, full of unspent fury, and it consumed him. Consumed him whole.

Asemir chuckled as the lightning washed over him with the fury of a spring shower. He chuckled again as Reyven Samoth sent another burst of Force prowess in his direction. And he laughed a third time as the second surge slapped at him impotently.

The wonders of technology, Asemir thought. Shyd had done a superb job at modifying his armor after the Sivter debacle. The Dark Lord had blasted him once with Force Lightning, and he had learned from that experience. The Forgotten armor master had altered her lover's armor, making it neigh-immune to the fury of the Force. The Specter armor had been insulated to protect against the heat of such an electrical surge, and any battle armor manufactured with a degree of thought was shielded against EMP bursts.

And, of course, the laws of physics had done the rest. His armor acted like a Faraday cage, and channeled the electrical surge around his body, shielding him from its effects. The nanomachines had once again proven superb, functioning perfectly at protecting their wearer.

Asemir stepped forward from the, quite honestly, remarkable display of Force-manship. He stepped forward, Night Terror in hand, and with a flick of his mind, batted aside the chunk of stone Reyven Samoth had been using as cover.

And then he extended a hand, then his index finger, and beckoned the Sith forward, taunting. "Come hither," the gesture said. "Come hither and die."

 

[Garza]

Darren was thrown forwards towards Shorn. He knew that if he couldn't beat the power then to follow through with it. Darren activated the lightsabers the flew into his hands. Darren pushed himself faster at the apprentice. He threw one of the blades at Mikhail causing the him to block or to be hit. Darren spun his second blade in a circle clockwise. blocking the blade if it would still be there. he followed though the with a twist of his wrist to have an uppercut stroke from the mans groin up to the neck and chin.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

His mother, Radon, Ashin replied tersely, moving away from the throne. Leave me to my work. As Asemir and Reyven clashed, sparks and debris filled the gigantic hall. Meanwhile, Mikhail and Darren sparred in a corner. There was still plenty of room for herself and Voracitos. She beckoned the obese Pillar of Knowledge as she stepped down from the throne and ignited her lightsabre once more.

"If you wish to challenge me for the throne, Darth Voracitos, that is your right, and the battle will be to the death. If you mean to test my worthiness, as I think you do, then so be it. I have uses for your knowledge, Pillar."

She raised the electrum-plated, subtly curved hilt and settled into a firm, basic stance. The blade inscribed a deliberate arc in the air, then became utterly still.

"Test me, then."

 

[Lord Ghoul]

A smile played on Mikhail's lips as Darren flew toward him. He released his telekinetic hold on the Dark Jedi. No sense in expending energy where it was no longer needed. Alert eyes watched the thrown lightsaber hum toward him, intended to be more a distraction than anything else, Mikhail assumed. He leaped into action, movements happening in mere blinks of an eye. Extending his awareness, Mikhail grabbed the thrown lightsaber in the Force. He righted its spin, preventing it from decapitating him, and it zipped toward him, hilt first. The hilt smacked into his left hand with satisfying ease. Darren had not directed the lightsaber with the Force, then. Merely thrown it. A mistake.

As Darren came hurtling toward Mikhail, the Sith Apprentice parried the incoming blow he both expected and felt warning of in the Force. Muscles rippled along Mikhail's arms as he responded out of muscle memory, results of an entire year with four or more hours spent everyday devoted to Makashi during that hellish camp for initiates. The parry was smooth and carried only enough motion and power to turn his opponent's blade aside. Shorn sidestepped and pivoted as he parried the second blow. His pivot afforded him breathing room from his opponent's blade as it set him at a right angle to Darren. Shorn raised his blades in a guard stance. One white. One red.

"You know, killing you with your own blade would be very poetic," Mikhail goaded. Blue-grey eyes glittered mischievously.

Jar'kai was not an unfamiliar style to Mikhail. Makashi's focus on single combat meant it was often necessary to have a guard shoto in the off hand. Though Darren's weapon was no shoto, it would serve well enough. Mikhail typically only wielded his saber in one hand anyway. No sense in doing anything else with it. Throw it away and Darren would simply retrieve it. Try to destroy it and he would be distracted. No. He would hold onto the blade simply to keep it away from Darren, if nothing else.

Adrenaline pounded through Mikhail's body, filling him with a rush of excitement. Blue eyes danced with the thrill of it. His nostrils flared as he breathed in and out. In and out. A calm, steady rythm. Unlike Darren, he was fighting simply to fight. The emotions that fueled his power in the Dark Side were not born of this conflict, but rather from pains of the past. He may not have been completely in control of his emotions. But he was in control of this fight.

Shorn lunged with his crimson saber in a thrust toward Darren's shoulder. Before the thrust was completed, however, Mikhail sent a telekinetic shove aimed to put Darren off balance. It was a feint. He diverted the thrust into a crescent stroke that circled away from the soulder and down toward Darren's right knee. The saber in his off hand he kept ready to intercept Darren's blade in case of a parry or riposte.

 

[Darth Voracitos]

"That's a good Empress!" He spoke loudly. From his pointed finger, shot out a stream of lightning. It was a thick stream, a single stream, the embodiment of its user. From his finger tips, the room lit a sickly green, reflecting off the envious eyes of the Gluttonous Lord. His face contorted with his current frustrations, arcing from his mind through his beating heart, electrifying his muscles and exiting towards his opponent. Pure emotional dark side energy rushing towards her in a thick beam. Do not mistaken it for Force Destruction no, this was just very emotional Sith lightning. He lumbered forward, and emptying his emotional power at her.

 

[Soeht]

The Citadel lit up in excitement. Darth Apparatus stood outside across a mighty chasm that separated the fortress from the rest of Kaas City. He sensed most of everything that happened within. Darth Moridin's prompt abdication was a genuine surprise for the Sith Lord, yet the rest of what happened was to his expectations. An air of enthusiasm oozed from the Darth. He reveled in the chaos Desmius's coup caused - perhaps a bit too much for one so bent on destroying the Jedi and Republic.

As he observed through the Force the many duels and conflicts within the Citadel, Darth Apparatus commanded the dark side around him. It rushed toward the mighty keep and seeped through the walls - funneling toward his target deep within the throne room. While it would not have seemed much to observers, Darth Apparatus actually took an extreme amount of concentration in order to pull this feat off.

"S̕u͏r̸pr͘is͠e̕ ̢me,͠ ̸Da͠rth҉ ̡V̶or͠aci̢tos," whispered the Darth with some strain in his voice.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

The potency of the bolt smashed her lightsabre aside and connected with her body. The impact sent her flying back to crash painfully into the throne. Green radiance blotted out her sight, electricity tensed every muscle, and the scent of burnt hair and cloth filled her nostrils. Her lightsabre rolled from her hand to clatter alongside the throne.

Ever so slowly, her sabre hand rose. A final twitch slammed her open palm into the path of the bolt. Familiar patterns of thought reasserted themselves, and the lightning rebounded from her palm, scoring jagged lines in the floor. Droplets of molten stone splattered everywhere.

She pushed away from the throne with her free hand, rising in one convulsive motion against the press of the blast. The concentrated lightning drove her arm back, but she drove it forward in turn, and a storm of blue-white lightning snapped back at him, across the rapidly dwindling distance between them. The current diverged, then closed in on him like the teeth of some fantastic creature. The impression would be instantaneous, fleeting; lightning snapped faster than jaws.

 

[Darth Voracitos]

S̕u͏r̸pr͘is͠e̕ ̢me,͠ ̸Da͠rth҉ ̡V̶or͠aci̢tos,

Something was, different. He was still the same but he felt strangely.... satisfied. He would slowly cut off his torrent of lightning, as his lumbering slowed with a hidden power filling him as water within a sieve. He was causing quite the havoc in those short moments, dethroning Ashin in her defense, she quite spectacularly deflected his attack, the radiance of his power cutting through the ground like a blade through water. He smiled at the molten path she had generated from his power, it was quite, gratifying. As was the site of the girl before him, as to him she was no woman, scorched hair, the smell of burnt ozone and flesh, all things he relished in that moment, though there were no visible signs of pain but that was to be expected. He would give her that credit in that he expected her to be quite the tremendous challenge, and that her tolerance would indeed prove to be Sith-like. She could indeed take a hit, and as he saw now, redeliver.

From his own attack, she derived her own, splitting off its crude unrefined power into many different strands, and pathways through the air, they two in their own blue brilliance tore through the air with a trail of ozone, battling the leftover radiance of his own lighting. The teal aura that hung in the air and reflected from all things within the throne room was spectacular, and deadly. The storm of lightning hit him as fair as his own blast towards the Empress, though even as he grunted loudly to the obvious pain, strangely the morbidly obese Sith Lord was not as harmed or worried about the attack as he had thought. It hurt as hell would burn obviously, and indeed it did, but within the mind of Voracitos the pain was but a nuisance, as something else came over him.

His clothes blackened by the attack, remained as the truly electrical tension ceased from his own hand, in expectation that his opponent too would relent from the storm, though it wouldn't matter had it continued. The red aura that had emanated from his free hand quickly flashed brilliantly as if a flame, began to spread up the fatty arm of the powerful blob. As it passed over his body, he let out yet another sigh, and this time a chuckle. He felt incredibly refreshed, and whatever sparking presence remain from the electrical storm was immediately absorbed into his presence. The Darth's eyes glowed from greed to red, as an unknown force combined with his. The dark energy that had been intended to drain the life force out of those too weak to defend themselves, began to expand in its domain, whipping about in tendrils. Though this display lasted only but a moment while a new flash of light out shined temporarily the light show that played around the room.

The red tendrils fell back into him after a moment of strain, and once within the man, upon his skin of where they entered his body markings tattooed his corpulent body. The aura died off, though the markings remained, glowing strong. He paused a moment from the duel if it allowed it, to gaze upon his 'new skin'. He liked the feel of it, the power it seemed to hold.

"Well this is... different. I like it." He said with his hands raised almost to his face, just enough so that his eyes could gaze upon his heavy hands. With his hands still raised, his gleaming eyes glinted towards the Empress, anticipating everything one might expect to find in one reacting to such a light show. He stepped one heavy foot after the other, all the way smiling. He liked where this was headed.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Ashin set her feet, an aura of intense solidity coming over her and anchoring her to the floor at the base of the throne's steps. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the changes affecting Voracitos, the streams of half-tangible power coming from elsewhere, and that red radiance. Instinct suggested the radiance was a variant upon the consuming hunger that dwelt within her -- Force Drain, some called it, a relic of the most ancient of Sith. A difficult thing to control, a feat she only managed through self-discipline.

Then again, she could assume no superiority. Voracitos was uniquely positioned to manage and direct a hunger that profound. Force Drain from him would be unusually potent; either that, or diffuse and spastic. But she had to guess the former, even before this unknown power came to help him. Apparatus's mask flashed through her mind's eye, and his enigmatic words on Rhen Var acquired a little more significance. Perhaps he was testing one of the dueling Masters, or both. Perhaps Voracitos would make a true challenge; perhaps he was making such a challenge already.

Such a possibility had to be cut off at the knees.

For a moment or two, she contemplated attempting to drain the life from the red markings on his skin. She opted, instead, to save that for endgame, and focus instead on something that might halt his gigantic momentum. Something that would give more than pain. Reyven had ripped a chunk from one of the many huge pillars that held up the ceiling; Ashin stretched out to one of those pillars, took hold of it from bottom to top with her mind, and pulled it down. Dust descended from the ceiling in slow clouds, disturbed by the passage of the impromptu club. Ten meters of granite swung down at a diagonal as she turned the pillar's fall into a strike that nearly came parallel to the floor. The ceiling would survive without one of its many supports, and, for the moment, Ashin had her weapon. Its lower edge scarred the floor and rolled across it, giving the pillar a hint of tumble, more than a touch of unpredictability. Tendons stood out in the backs of Ashin's empty hands as she telekinetically swung the pillar towards Voracitos.

 

[Kiara Alanna Decoix]

"[color-pink]I guess I'll just never be somewhere on time will I[/color]" Kiara said more so speaking to herself as she found herself outside the throne room alongside other sith and notably a Jedi amongst them. Inside the throne room was literally alive with the comforting presence of the dark side. She loved up and felt as if she could literally breath in the dark energies.

She passed by the group outside without a word merely weaving through the crowd. Her Rancor armor all black with her woven hood on and Sith Mask completed her look. Her presence within the force was already small considering her concealment but when compared to such a world they were on the amount of dark energies with the room she was easily hidden within the many layers of the force.

She felt Reyven and could feel the way his aura moved to know without yet seeing that he was either prepping or already fighting. A sense of urgency almost broke her usual control but she found it at the last second continuing her natural pace. Entering the throne room she the one they call Darth Ashin battling Darth Voracitos in a rather impressive lightning display.

Had she not been here for a reason she would have watched the battle. However, turning back toward the fight between Reyven and the unknown Sith she began to walk toward Reyven allowing her aura to wash over him so he'd know she was their not wanting to accidently get attacked of course.

A whisper would breeze through his mind. We both know what were here for. Allow to me deal with this fool and save your strength for the prize. With that she know stood next to Reyven albeit a few feet apart to provide room for her to ignite her twin Vexx's with a twirl to allow her to enter Ataru easily.

She pointed her saber toward the unknown Sith.

 

[Soeht]

It seemed that Voracitos took well to Darth Apparatus's meddling. The technique itself was a combination of many, thus making it an extreme commitment for the Darth to maintain. The families of nearby buildings, all of whom took refuge in them to avoid the incoming Mandalorian forces and Sith overlords, began to pay the price for it. At the moment, they would all feel nauseous and weak. Such discomfort was only the beginning for them.

As he continued to sense what happened within the Citadel, Darth Apparatus slowly chuckled at the destruction being caused. His voice seemed to grow increasingly inhuman with each laugh. It had been too long for him to delve this deep in the dark side of the Force, and too long since he had seen the Sith tear at each others throat like now.

"L͜et͝'̷s ̀s҉e҉e ͠h̕o̕w̢ ̀fa͞r t̛h͜is͟ ̵wil͏l͜ ̴go," whispered the Darth.

For the battle to come, Voracitos would experience what it felt like to fight as Darth Apparatus. Despite being only a taste, an unimaginable sensation of wrath and pain would have rushed toward Voracitos just as one of Dromund Kaas's lightning strikes. Darth Apparatus drew on such feelings for his immense strength as they constantly nagged on his mind as they would for Voracitos - if he chose to rely on this power even more.