Skirmish LOTS | Wretched Children of the Abyss

[Aspect of Victory]

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ORD VAXAL
TALAGAR GROVE

If you knew where to look, Talagar Grove could be found in the western reaches of Ord Vaxal - far-flung from even the weakest vestiges of civilization that clung to the planet. It was a squat complex of a dozen fortified buildings, surrounded first by an electrified fence and then by a daunting amount of inhospitable jungle.​

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It was easy to tell the place was a prison, though it did not house the usual scum the Denon Corporate Authority collected. There were plenty of traditional prisons for that. Talgar Grove had been constructed for those undesirables who happened to be trained Force Sensitives.​

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Sith, mostly.​

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A number of One Sith cells remained active in the Core even after all these years, and they were still being hunted down and destroyed by the Corporate Authority. Those captured alive were always brought to Talagar Grove, where they could be safely interrogated and studied.​

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Dark Jedi were common as well - the bland and aimless, but no less too much of a threat to be housed with the average criminal.​

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And although they would deny it, Jedi and Jal Shey also ended up in Talagar Grove. Some diplomats, missionaries, agents, and “problem solvers” were better off disappeared than dead. And so they were brought here as well.​

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Talagar Grove was a well-kept secret, an undocumented black site. And then, quite suddenly, it wasn’t.​

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The Worm Emperor has an eye for talent and an agenda set on acquiring more. To gather so many Dark Siders in one spot was no different than lighting a beacon and begging for his attention.​

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It was his attention that they inevitably got: that and a fleet of raiders in orbit, starving for new blood to add to the Worm Emperor’s growing horde.​

 

[Aspect of Passion]

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ORD VAXAL
TALAGAR GROVE

Multiple Monger Class Battle Cruisers slowly came into Orbit above the notorious prison planet, their presence no doubt being caught on various alarms on the surface. A distant operator raised a thumb into the air to signal that the distress beacon was sent out, and that a fleet - be it large and cohesive or just contracted operators - would soon be on its way. An officer gave a nod in response, and glanced back to the Worm Emperor for a response; only to receive that void blank stare in return.​

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"One of many conquests.", a male voice offered.​

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"To grow the horde."​

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"To make right what was wronged."​

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The Worm stood to his full height, nearly scraping the electrum mask on the ceiling as he began to speak - the Force echo'ing his words to an entire planet, inside each mind, inside each cell, with none able to hide from his dictation. The planet would hear his words, and then it would feel his wraith;​

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"Ord Vaxal. We are the Worm Emperor - the past, the present, and the future. We are life, and we are death. You have known me since you've known the Dark Side; and today, I will free you back into galaxy. To serve me, to serve the Sith, and to serve the future.", his many voices offered, merging themselves into a single tone with the slightest differences.​

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"I offer you not only freedom, but a chance at glory - to rule, to be rich, to feel powerful once more. I ask that once the the cells open, you kill your captors, take their weapons and show them what strength truly means. Not for cruelty, but to regain what you have lost."​

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"Control."​

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"Be strong, my children. I come - and with me, the full force of the Sith follow in my wake."​

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No doubt there would soon be even greater terror on the surface as cannons began to fire at patrols outside the complex from orbit, drop ships began to deploy, and hell would come to Ord Vaxal. There would be not quarter, no peace, and only those strong enough to survive the coming hours would be fit to serve in the Worm's Horde.​

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

To the layman's glance, the prison security came off as pathetic. Remote jungle location, electric fence, nothing special in orbit. But the Corporate Authority hadn't built Talagar Grove to keep people out. That long jungle walk could wear down and ruin any prisoner, full stop. A continent's worth of serious jungle was the next best thing to a death world, and a wonderful escape deterrent.

If you made the huge assumption that keeping Force-sensitive prisoners alive was a smart choice, you'd want a place just like Talagar Grove to store them. Or a carbonite slab, but maybe the carbonite trading prices were a notch too high for the corpo risk assessors.

Bottom line, there was absolutely nothing to prevent Ashin from setting up a position on a bluff a mile away from the prison compound. She'd come down quietly five hours in advance of the fleet, in a nondescript drop pod with a little stealth involved.

Her weapon of choice this fine day was an old favorite from her extensive collection of sniper rifles: a MandalTech MX-1, Jasper Ordo's brainchild, blessed be his memory. A little spotter droid bobbed behind her.

The MX-1 jolted furiously against her recoil pad, effectively a small shoulder-mounted inertial compensator. Verpine shattergun tech made the shot the next best thing to silent, other than the sonic boom that traveled three times slower than the inch-wide durasteel dart. One point six seconds later, the dart in question passed through a guard tower's main power generator like a withering quip from Caulder Dune . Thereafter it kept going as stubbornly as Darth Carach trying to land a date.

 

[Inanna Harth]

Location: The front gate
Gear: Paranoia, Suspicion, Regret
Tags: Open

To everything there is a season, and everyone has their own special talents. Some of the Worm Emperor’s (lovely chap, by the way) forces would use stealth to infiltrate the prison complex undetected. Others would gradually work their way inside, dismantling the technology that held the place together. Still more might even rush in guns blazing, killing anything that moved and wasn’t behind bars.

Messala was most inclined toward the final option. As far as combat was concerned, he was little more than a thug with magic powers. He liked a good duel every now and then, but that was unlikely to occur in this situation.

So it was that he stood waiting outside the gate as a technician worked on opening it. He was flanked on either side by various soldiers, primarily mercenaries, with a few Sith sprinkled in among the ranks. Beside him stood Errol Aylmer, a white-haired figure to rival Darth Empyrean in pale effeminacy, the obsidian hilt of a Sith sword clutched in his fair hands.

“Errol, did I ever tell you about what my political science professor taught me?” Messala asked.

Errol turned to look at him, his brow furrowing at the seeming irrelevance of the inquiry. “Uh, I’m not sure. What did they say?”

“We were discussing different political ideologies and how their governments regulated various aspects of society,” Messala began, the plates of his red armor clanking as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Economics, law, and the sciences mostly. To be honest, many of them seemed the same to me, but I didn’t know why until, out of the blue, the professor said, ‘There are no children in that philosopher’s vision, so how can it be a better world?’”

Errol blinked, expecting a point or payoff to the story. But Messala seemed lost in thought. “What made you remember this?” Errol pressed.

“I was thinking about the Primyn Group again. If I could sum up one obvious reason for its failure, it's exactly that. They never planned for the future, or at least not a future without Vandiir.”

Sighing, Errol nodded. “I thought so. You’re always thinking about that these days.”

“I suspect I’ll be thinking about it until the day I die.” Messala chuckled. “A few nights ago, I had a dream that Adrian visited me at Tintagel. We talked about the Children. I asked him what he really wanted. Do you know what he said? ‘I’ve envisioned a utopia where mindless Sithspawn do the dying and unpleasant work, while sentient uber-refined socialites study the mysteries of the galaxy in decadent luxury.’”

“That sounds like something he would say.”

Messala’s chuckle boomed into full-throated laughter. A few of the soldiers turned to glare at the source of all the noise.

“I barely knew him, and yet in my dream it was as if we were old friends. It turned out we were on the same page. We were going to work together to bring about a new era. Prospero and Transitus. He did the beautiful dreaming, I handled the ugly birth.” He shook his head. "Hard to believe it's all gone. Even Tintagel. Feels more like a dream than the actual dream did. But I'm still hopeful, son. I have a very good feeling about this, for what my 'feelings' are worth."

Errol gnawed on his lip. Messala obsessed over the dead and departed—Errol’s mother and father, his teachers and friends at the Chaldean Academy, old flames and lost loves, his 'creator'. Adrian Vandiir had simply joined the gallery of familiar faces which populated the satyr’s subconscious like ghosts haunting a house full of bad memories.

There was a rattle of hinges as the gate scraped open. The soldiers moved into position. Soon gunfire and shouting filled the air. Messala clapped a gauntleted hand on Errol’s shoulder, then equipped his sword and lightsaber and leaped into the fray, his adopted son not far behind.

 

[Merridius Black]

The treetop horizon grew a shade darker outside the small, shimmering window beside Merridius Black's cot. He upturned a shaggy brow towards the fading green of the jungle, rolling a jagged shard of white stone between a raw pointer finger and thumb. Casually he tossed the pebble, watching as it sizzled, bounced and then tumbled down and away from the phantom barrier. His eyes lazily tracked the stone as it rebounded and eventually stalled halfway through the small cell, its charred edge still smoking.

With a bored sigh he knocked the back of his head against the wall, pushing against the cot mattress to adjust himself into a straighter lean. He pondered on the time, giving the darkening horizon a brief gaze as he did so. He wasn't alloted a timepiece anymore - on account of the clockshaped pattern of teeth missing from his post guard's jaw. A grin parted the scruff of his beard and he brushed back the tangled hair on the side facing the cell door.

"Oh no, Clocktower" he called out, gaze drifting towards the shimmering field on the opposite side of his cell from the window, "I've tried to escape again. Didn't work. You rod suckers sure do make good force fields. Be a good wife and pick this up for me, would you?"

Only the tedious hum of the field generators answered him. Typical, his beloved was ignoring him again. He smiled to himself and went back to blindly picking at the divet he'd peeled from the cell wall near his cot. If he kept at it maybe a womprat could squeeze to freedom.

"Come now, Clocktower, there isn't a need to be a knob about this. I still love you." he called again with a self-satisfied grin, but the guard remained silent.

"No? Cheating on me with those spice addicts again or just hard to get?"

Again there was only silence. Had to be those yellow eyed freaks downstairs again, with those druggie stares they had. Their lot always seemed to raise right fuss, waving their hands and making pigs fly. You'd think that someone that could do that wouldn't have a problem dealing with a place like this. Oh well, he'd sort Clocktower out when she returned from whatever riot the freaks were on about.

Merridius turned back out the window and shot another raised brow to mother nature. The mold-green landscape had grown darker yet, the dew slicked leaves shimmering briefly before the light was washed away by a creeping shadow. Like a rising ocean the tide of shadows raced toward the prison and, in a moment of confusion, Merridius realized that the darkness was guided by a distinct pyramid point at the head of the darkness.

A ship? He pressed closer to the window, but the field stopped him from catching a clear view of the sky. He looked to the ground, saw the black shapes of guards scurrying about the Iron maze of the prison.

There was no time to question further.

A silent beam of green light sliced open the sky, leaving a plum of vapor in its path. The pillar from heaven struck the ground with a righteous, burning wrath. An eruption of light - a green star that blinded Merridius and engulfed the scene below. In a silent apocalypse the trees framing the prison grounds caught fire - leaves vaporized and trunks shattered. Gates, iron bars, guard posts, watch towers and the guards themselves disappeared in an eerie, soundless blaze.

Then all at once voice was given to the destruction. Still dazed by the brilliance of the blast, Merridius found himself instinctively diving for cover as a wave of debries and earth shaking sound pelted the window. His cot rattled and the field keeping him locked inside fizzled violently against the intrusive wreckage battering it. The room turned blood red as emergency lights kicked on and a siren shrieked - yet all was a garbled mess to the imprisoned Nihil.

But even as the thunderous explosion faded it was replaced by another wall shaking, energy field scattering blast. Merridius fought to balance himself and as held tight to the cot, regaining his footing, he was assailed one again...this time by something much different.

A voice like that from just beyond the veil. Something deep and dark, yet quiet and gentle. A screaming whisper that promised him wealth and power...then it was gone. Before Merridius could have a moment to ponder another blast shook the cell.

This time the field blocking the exit shuttered, sparked and warped under the constant blasts of ions released from the turbo lasers. It was a short thought. Not well planned. No sooner had the vague plan formulated in his head than did he decide to execute it.

He charged the shuttering field. If not for the blasts the screams would have woken the dead. In the brief seconds it took his body to push through the field it had felt like a hot iron was peeling his flesh from the bone. Every muscle tensed as electricity arced from nerve to tissue and back again. At last, after a century's long second, the pirate fell gasping to the floor outside his cell.

He did all he could do, which in this moment was groan and watch slobber dribble from his lip. The heavy stench of cooked meat filled his nostrils and he did his best to push the nauseating thought of what it was out of his mind. Slowly he jittered to all fours, shaking hands stifling the flames caught at the ends of his hair and on his white prison fatigues.

He was alive. That was nice. Now he just needed a moment to rest...then he'd find his own ride out of this pit.

 

[Odanneth Mal (Darth Nyx)]

LOCATION: EAST WALL


Oda felt the Worm's words and presence seep into everything around her as she lingered at the shadowy treeline, but she knew it was not the master she should serve. She screwed her eyes tight shut in an attempt to ignore it all with a learned revulsion.

"Together, we will kill the Worm Emperor."

She was only here because Darth Empyrean ordered it, and she had just one objective -- break in, find the security room and hit the emergency cell-door button. All hell would break loose then and her job would be done.

Oda had been dropped in some hours prior and spent a good deal of time stalking around the first rows of trees like a wildcat, just waiting for the right time as the thrums of laser fire and rains of dirt went off in the distance. It didn't feel right, but she had her helmet off; having one on would be far too distracting for what she needed to do. Her eyes jumped to the sudden burst of a guardtower generator and the yells and screams that followed. That seemed as good a siginal to go as any. ( Ashin Cardé Varanin )

<This is Nyx. I'm going in. East wall. Out.>

You can do this. Run.

Summoning her talent, Oda warped sound and light about her, rendering her both inaudible and invisible -- if only it were an easy thing to do. In a painful instant it felt like her bones were lined with lead and her veins were narrowed. She sprinted towards the compound and let out a snarl as she negotiated the Force-jump to clear the wall -- no time to stop when she landed the concrete on the other side, guards running back and forth and smoke blowing all around her. She had to get out of here. If she showed just a glimpse of herself she'd find her skull sniped off. She needed an opening.

Hell, she was tired already. Her breath was becoming a struggle, and the hellish, deafening noises on what had become a battlefield outside were dangerously distracting.

Any opening. Any.

She looked around frantically at the chaos, feeling the Force-cloak kick up her pulse ever higher and higher. Nothing.

Come on, come on come on!

A low groan and then the whine of sliding metal doors some way across the courtyard-- a way in. It was a tricky art to avoid people who couldn't see you, but she did what she could, just managing to get inside before the doors closed on her heel.

She had to keep running, and so she did -- down corridors, up stairs, through hallways. She was almost there.

Her heart leapt as one of the guards turned with purpose and hummed to himself when she passed close by.

'Did you see that?' he hissed to his companion over the droning of lasers and rumbling explosions outside.

'Nah. Keep sharp.'


Damn. The illusion was starting to fray, and there was still a way to go.

She ran along the cellblock grating, appearing as a strange blur as she stepped over ( Merridius Black ) a man who smelt of burnt bantha steak, and then up the stairs to the security booth.


Two guards, one retinal scanner, no time. She threw one over the railing with aid of the force and held a blaster to the back of the head of the second. She fought to keep her voice level, but it was a struggle: 'Do... Do... what I say and I won't hurt you.'

'Okay.'

'Don't say a word.'

'Okay.'

She pushed him forward so his eye lined up with the scanner.

>ACCESS GRANTED

'Juro, what's going on?' the security worker inside said as the door hissed and rolled open. 'Why the hell you in here, this area needs-'

Before the guard could say more, she had forced her blaster against the neck of the man in front of her and pulled the trigger. Her free hand reached for her saber which flashed red and quickly tasted flesh as she struck down the guard sitting in his chair. Oda switched the saber off. Three bodies fell to the ground -- they dead, she exhausted. Fully visible once more. The door had sealed back up behind them, the explosions outside and the yelling of the inmates in the block becoming faint.

Oda searched in the dead man's pockets for a lanyard, for a security pass, which she finally found after what felt like agonising hours. Hell, the room was spinning. She wasn't going to make it.


With a cry of frustration, almost all the energy she had left, she hauled her upper body up onto the control desk to steady herself. Her vision was fizzing, greying. After a couple of shaky attempts she scanned the ID. She took a brief look beyond the glass at the cells where prisoners were pacing and throwing their arms up before slamming her fist on the red button that revealed itself from behind a sliding panel. A new wave of sirens and flashing of blue lights came on as the flickering barrier to every cell started peeling down.

Oda tried to stand, but her knees buckled under her. Sweat was beading up all over her skin beneath her clothes. She'd pushed herself too hard, and she couldn't be more furious with herself. Hits were always at her own pace, a simple in and out, but this? She was no soldier. Did her master know this would be too much for her, or had she failed herself? This was bad, really bad.


<This is Nyx. Cell barriers....are down. I repeat, cell... barriers....down...Over...>

Her pride wouldn't let her tell them the rest.

She crawled to the wall and huddled up beside the desk in the shadows, blaster trained up on the sealed door, fighting to catch her breath. Time, she just needed time.

'Come get me, sithspit.'

 

[Kal]

Kal had once more been brought into the strangest of situations by opportunism and the call of adventure, but this time he was nervous. It was not the chaos or the destruction, no, they worried him little. Not even the ray shields, for he doubted the CAD had designed them to contain spirits.

He was nervous because of the voice and the presence it heralded. The walking void that was the Worm Emperor.

Relaxing somewhat as the creature seemed content to stay at a distance, he returned to what he had been doing, albeit with renewed urgency. The intel had been good, that much was clear - a prison break was in progress and with it the opportunity for some ad hoc headhunting. Emerging from the wall of one of the cells mere moments after the barriers dropped, he curiously examined the female Kiffar within.

Zahra Teph. Artificer, Metallurgist, Alchemist. Arrested by CorpSec alongside a small Sith grouping just a few months prior. Left to rot, no parole.

<Greetings, Ms. Teph.> Materialising as the usual shadowy silhouette, Kal was somewhat disappointed to be met with an unimpressed look. She could have at least pretended to be surprised. <Nothing, really? Alright then. My associate promised you your freedom, this seems as good a time as any. You may opt to render our agreement null and void in order to join your fellow Sith, but should you do so you will receive no assistance.>

It seemed only fair, given that this incident was hardly their doing; he hoped she would reaffirm the bargain, however. Would be a shame to come all this way for nothing and Alchemists skilled enough to create exceptional merchandise were few and far between.

[OPEN]​

 

[Nadira]

ORD VAXAL
TALAGAR GROVE
Tags: OPEN


Nadira could feel it. Something was going on. She rose from the small cot, her jumpsuit wrinkled from the nap she had taken. The presence of other Darksiders in the compound was apparent, their signatures growing stronger with every moment. Her footsteps echoed off the metal walls of the small chamber as she began pacing. Was this the moment she had been waiting for? For months, she had sat in her rotting, biding her time. She still had trouble accepting the Alliance had captured and subsequently transferred her, to begin with. All because of that bastard Hal Vaiken , she had been doomed to be caged like an animal, with no sense of control or autonomy. It was maddening, and the zeltron found herself clinging to the hope that today was the day she would break free again.

Only a few short minutes later, the blaring cut through her thoughts. She turned, seeing the force field that held her disappear. Nadira took a raspy breath, almost unable to believe it. Her legs felt encased in sap as they moved towards the opening. She peeked her head out into the hall, where others were wasting no time, running down the corridor, assaulting the few that stood guard.

With a grin, she joined the frenzy, lost among the crowd of orange.

 

[Aspect of Passion]

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ORD VAXAL
TALAGAR GROVE

Many Sith - of every creed and color - descended on the planet in a uniform invasion the likes of which Ord Vaxal had likely not seen since the Prison Riots of 325ABY. Shots from the fleet in orbit rang out across the surface in a great fire storm as glass formed beneath the turbolasers, relief convoys moving towards the Talagar Grove being cut off by the bombardment. High above, Officers relayed orders - while many more began to move on the facility itself.​

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---​

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First, it was Ashin Cardé Varanin - deadly and distant, she worked in tandem with Odanneth Mal (Darth Nyx) to disable the outside walls and automated guard tower on the south side. With Mal in, there was a sudden deadliness to their combined efforts; culminating in the energy fields of every cell in the facility being disabled from the emergency release.​

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Yet even as Mal sat in the corner - drained from her sudden efforts, Guards began to move to reclaim what she had sought to undo. Order was growing tenuous, and guards mounted on the door she was near - calling out quick commands as they avoided entering while a gun was pointed at them.​

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“Drop the weapon!”, one called.​

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It likely wouldn’t matter, as one quickly followed up with a flash grenade that rolled into the room on a short cook. In a split second, it would go off - and they would enter, and whether she got lucky and took out one or two, she would be met with melee quickly enough. A boot to the face, force cuffs on her wrists - whatever they could do to wrestle control from her.​

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---​

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Merridius Black would find himself struggling on the floor - but not alone. As the shots from orbit rocked the planet and prison alike, many others would rush out of the fading shields holding their cells together; only for the unfortunate reality to set in as they all came down a second later. A few sputter out harsh laughter at their fallen compatriots, but most ignored it entirely.​

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Some lifted up their friends, some grabbed the rudimentary weapons they’d been stashing and rushed the guards, and even some moved to end old rivalries with those who wronged them. One such person was an aging Twi’lek Merridius knew well - his jagged teeth curving into a smile as he pulled the shiv from his fatigues.​

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“Black!”, he said in a harsh, angry tone.​

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“‘Bout time I had a second to pay you back for Ceylon.”, he roared as he twisted the King Kraken onto his back - pressing knife to throat as he spit in his face.​

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Whether Merridius remembered him or not, it seemed he had angered the Twi’lek with some personal affront. As guards in riot gear began to form a testudo at the end of the hall, the rhythmic beating of shields signaled things were about to get much worse.​

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---​

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With the gates down, Guards quickly moved into their traditional testudo formations within each cell block. Rhythmic drumming on shields signals what is to come - a harsh case of police brutality as they begin to active their ‘White Noise’ Generators. Harsh devices that disable the Force when able; and the sound of their boot heels on blood soaked durasteel only created more panic.​

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While some ran, other fought, there was a time limit on those within the Prison - to either wrest control from the Guards and break their efforts, or to escape with what they’ve gained. Fire on the walls, blood on the floor - war had come to Ord Vaxal to seperate the strong from the weak.​

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Above, however, Transports began to release and fly with enthusiasm to the surface. Carrying various Sith of every degree - from the likes of Darth Empyrean to the legendary Darth Apedeman, Fist of the Emperor. Darkness descended upon the Talagar Grove in droves.​

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Inanna Harth │ Nadira │ Kal​

 

[The Hyacinth]

B R E A K ​

Hours of waiting finally culminated to a head. One that seemed to last an eternity and a single moment all at once. An invisible weight pressed down on him as he stalked a short distance from Nyx, another Apprentice of Maliphant, a woman he didn’t know all that well. He suspected he would soon enough.

Their objective, that of him and his brother, was simply to get the prisoners out mostly alive and in some kind of functioning state. Easy peasy. Bright green eyes scanned the surrounding chaos and destruction with a sense of apathy, waiting on a sign to be-

BOOM.

The generator at the guard tower went up and that rallied the guards to arms, gunshots and cries mixed into another cacophony of noise. Nyx’s call was clear enough even with the distance. Where she was headed was near enough to the cell block, best to follow her if only for the sake of ease.

Hyacinth shot forward without a word, darting with the help of the Force and making a leap straight up into the air. His hand found the sword slung across his back, unsheathed it, and let gravity do the work, bringing the metal down with a satisfying crack through one of the stunned guards. A smile creeped onto his features, curling slightly, as much as the metal would allow. The next target wasn’t far behind, mere seconds behind the first. There was a tingle in the part of him that was yet organic and there was a reaction that left the guard decapitated before a trigger could be pulled. A third body swiftly followed. w

Optic eyes scanned to find an open door across the expanse of the yard. But, even that was closing far faster than he would’ve liked. Nyx would have to go there too likely. There wasn’t another entrance in sight and she had to get inside to disable the cells. If he hurried, he might be able to make it through. Let them shoot all they liked.

His legs moved forward again, landing on the ground with little hesitancy, slicing through the two guards at the bottom with a single, two-handed cut with a force that rattled the metal of his arms. The smoke cover was just thick enough so that he could move with some stealth but he’d have to take out any that he came along his path, if only to simplify things.

Hyacinth’s trek was a bloodbath as he ran across the yard, spurred on by gunshots and baton wielding fools. The door was still closing, hardly big enough to fit a person through. As a last ditch effort, he pulled on the Force again, letting it surge until he felt he had enough to dash forward and narrowly slip through the door without losing a limb.

He paused once inside. Which way to go? Dark eyebrows furrowed as his feet pounded against the metal flooring, loudly announcing his presence to anyone with ears. With the sword still dripping, he stalked through the halls and up several flights of stairs, cutting down any he came across. And then, things went dark. Through the lens of the Force, he could feel nothing. There was no way to track where people were.

He was effectively blind beyond the capabilities of his body.

Emerald eyes rolled and he kicked through a door, spying numerous guards on the other side through a viewing port. He cut them down as they ran to fortify the area as the sirens wailed and Nyx states her completion, letting the mechanics of his arm do the work for him, separating the man from the shell.

A door swung open and buckled under a well placed heel and the actions of a saber cutting through the center of it. It was there that he found Odanneth Mal (Darth Nyx) , on the floor, huddled up in a corner like a scared child. His lips turned downwards in a scowl. “Get up, ‘Darth’ Nyx.” His eyes seemed to burn in her direction, his voice cold and laced with obvious contempt. Though the words came out, his hand never extended. “Cowardice does not suit you. Or, perhaps, it does. I will allow you and Maliphant to make that decision.”

“However, we do need to get moving. So, you can either get up and fight or stay in the open and die. I do hope you’ll pick soon, they’re already flooding the hall again.” With that, he turned and left the woman in the open doorway, saber and sword in hand, racing to meet the incoming forces.

Odanneth Mal (Darth Nyx) | The Asphodel | Merridius Black | Nadira | Darth Empyrean​

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

...culminating in the energy fields of every cell in the facility being disabled from the emergency release.

Yet even as Mal sat in the corner - drained from her sudden efforts, Guards began to move to reclaim what she had sought to undo. Order was growing tenuous, and guards mounted on the door she was near - calling out quick commands as they avoided entering while a gun was pointed at them.

“Drop the weapon!”, one called.

It likely wouldn’t matter, as one quickly followed up with a flash grenade that rolled into the room on a short cook. In a split second, it would go off - and they would enter, and whether she got lucky and took out one or two, she would be met with melee quickly enough. A boot to the face, force cuffs on her wrists - whatever they could do to wrestle control from her.

As The Hyacinth wrecked his way through the guards in the vicinity of Odanneth Mal (Darth Nyx) , one of said guards dropped with a ragged hole where his shoulder used to be. They were inside, which stretched the limits of Ashin's skill even with Force-assisted aiming and an excellent spotter droid. Another guard lost hair, skin, and consciousness from the shockwave of a near miss. A third took a durasteel pellet square in the belly, with predictably ruinous results.

In short order, between the Hyacinth's efforts and Ashin's sniper work, the immediate vicinity around Darth Nyx was soon devoid of (living) guards.

 

[Xun of Throne]

Inside one of the cells, Ben Brijj struggled to break past the guards closing in on him with their riot shields and stun batons. He couldn't remember how long he'd been in this place after getting transferred off Denon - turns out getting in too many prison fights gets you put in a deeper, darker pit than before. He didn't resist at first, until he saw guards getting gunned down past the cell door. That's when he really started to struggle.

If there was a sliver, even a mite of hope that he could break out of this place and be free again? Well he would give it his all - one handed or not.

The inmate lowered his shoulder and charged the guards, slamming into their shields with a stupid amount of strength and all the weight of a Houk. They gave before him, the shield wall collapsing as he fell in among them. The sting and sudden numbness of stun batons striking him on the legs and back caused him to scramble forward, clawing his way through the squirming bodies with one arm until he managed to get to his feet. He picked up a shield, smacked a pursuing guard in the face with it, then hobbled his way down the hallway, one leg partially numb.

Where was the rest of his crew being held?

Aspect of Passion Merridius Black The Hyacinth Ashin Cardé Varanin Inanna Harth Odanneth Mal (Darth Nyx)

 

[Arlis Cerran]

In the midst of the chaos that enveloped the prison, it was easy for one pirate to go unnoticed.

Her approach was not as quiet nor as violent as some others, but it got the job done. Arlis moved through the corridors of the prison with her short-barreled blaster rifle in hand, avoiding the guards she could and killing those she couldn’t. A riot made for a convenient distraction, most of them more focused on getting to where they were needed as opposed to dealing with one out of place criminal. In no time she’d navigated past the few security measures that remained before entering the halls of holding cells, and that was where the real fun began.

As opposed to the goals of her fellow compatriots who had either been hired or were here of their own volition, her goal was at once more vague and precise: she was here to find her brother. This was a task made more complex by the fact that her only guide was his name and her knowledge that he was being held here, along with new information that he now worked with a crew of Nihil and counted himself among their number. It left just about everything else a variable, and in a time crunch, that was no good place to be.

The next corner she rounded found her behind a troop of guards marching down the hall in the opposite direction, their backs facing her as they rattled their shields and pressed onwards toward a foe only they could see in front of them. That was the bad news.

The good news was that she’d brought a handful of stun and flash grenades with her, and had yet to put them to good use. In a plan not thought out half as well as it should have been when as outnumbered as she currently was, Arlis took one of the flash grenades and rolled it down the hall towards the squad, hoping for it to stop somewhere in the middle and detonate.

That was when the real fun would begin.

Merridius Black | Xun of Throne | Aspect of Passion | Ashin Cardé Varanin | The Hyacinth | Inanna Harth | Odanneth Mal (Darth Nyx) | Nadira

 

[The Asphodel]

BREAKOUT​

​

A lazy grin followed Hyacinth throughout the trek throughout the prison. While his brother was a force to be reckoned with, slicing and dicing through one guard after the next with noisy abandon, Asphodel took to the journey with a bit more grace. Forgoing a sword for a small collection of daggers, Asphodel somehow managed to be both more intimate and distant with his path of destruction though not nearly as distant as the sniper from afar, using his brother's carnage as a delightful distraction before he went in for kills of his own.

With the door kicked open, Asphodel all but sauntered into the room, mechanical limbs impossibly quiet where others had only been amplified. He cast a look between Hyacinth and Oda, a teasing tssk on the tip of his tongue."Now, brother, there's no need for that." He chastised the other, grin never quite leaving his face or voice. He approached their fellow apprentice offering a hand with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "We're all friends here, no? For now, at least."

Asphodel turned, casting another look at his brother only to see the blur of Hyacinth already stepping back into the fray. "Or you can rush on ahead, that's fine," he muttered with a slight shake of the head. He tossed one last look at Oda, a light gesture of his head to emphasize the 'we really should get going now' before he too moved to take on what was waiting for them.

The Hyacinth | Odanneth Mal (Darth Nyx) | Ashin Cardé Varanin | Darth Empyrean | Merridius Black | Nadira | Xun of Throne | Arlis Cerran​

 

[Odanneth Mal (Darth Nyx)]

Oda's head was still reeling from the wicked kick when everything seemed to happen all at once -- the sudden bang of the metal door hailing an unexpected visitor, the sniper's swift and messy hits. After it all happened and ended in a rush, the assassin uncurled herself, ears ringing, and propped up on one elbow to wipe the gore from her face, flinching in pain as some of that gore was her own -- that boot had bust her lip good.

A figure loomed above her... and ugh, great. A lecture.

She rolled her eyes, picking out someone's... skull, tooth?... from a tearduct, as The Hyacinth berated her. 'Nice monologue, bucketbrain,' she muttered under her breath, spitting out a tongueful of blood to the side as he left the room. She'd heard that you could shoot him in the head with a blaster and nothing would happen -- would be a shame for a stray shot to test that theory and find it false.

She returned a small smile to The Asphodel when he offered out his hand to her, to which she heaved herself to her feet with a pained grunt. That was a change from her solo missions too... usually there was no such thing as backup, and in this instance it was something she was glad of, even if it were in parts insufferably rude. Looking around at the mangled bodies, she was especially thankful to that invisble sniper whoever they were ( Ashin Cardé Varanin ). A rare thanks would be in order.

But friends? We'd see about that.

She was weakened, but could still hold a blaster and was no longer fighting for breath. The sooner they were out of this madhouse the better. With a bit of a limp she followed the pair out: 'Understood. Let's go.'

<This is Nyx. We'll be making our way back out. This is looking crazy from in here, so make pickup quick. Over. >

Darth Empyrean

 

[Lunafreya Solidor]

L O C A T I O N | Extreme Isolation Area.
T A G S | The Hyacinth | Odanneth Mal (Darth Nyx) |
Ashin Cardé Varanin | Darth Empyrean
Merridius Black | Nadira | Xun of Throne
Arlis Cerran | Aspect of Passion
T H E M E | Here.
V O I C E | Here.
G E A R | Pistol.​

In her religion, it was said that Destiny ruled over all things. That unstoppable force ruled every aspect of our lives, shaped by our daily choices, as if it were a stairway built entirely out of pure water, for it could not be commanded, but, long ago, Lunafreya had heard a very phrase spoken by the galaxies greatest heretic; are we sentient because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at the stars because we are sentient? She couldn’t say. Once she had been the pride and joy of the New Order, fighting to bring about stability, perfection, and beauty back to the galaxy, until she felt betrayed, little by little her actions were trimmed away of the Assembly, and Bastion had changed everything. With arrogance, Lunafreya thought she could keep her farse and move to other parts of the map to take control over planets long forgotten by the scum that occupied the stars. How big of a fool she was, played for a sucker some might be bold enough to say, for the farse created by herself turned to her own grave.

“She is waking up! How are her vitals?”, a voice asked, she could tell that by the crude language chosen to be spoken by that inferior creature. Slowly, almost as if it was painful, Lunafreya started to open her eyes, allowing her sight to adapt to her surroundings and noticing how it felt as if she floating. “Are you gonna take that long to get her out of there?”, before she realized with her gaze, the depths of the mind already could tell where she was being held, as this proved to be inside the watery vials of what resembled a tank, in which she floated quite gracefully wearing nothing but cheesecloth covering her better parts against their greedy eyes. When those purple-ish orbs of her gained knowledge of her surroundings, slowly prying her hand back from where it stood, surrounded by chains, looking upon her fingers, trying to make some sense out of all. The brain inside that head of hers felt scrambled, like a maze, filled with dead ends and dark corners to be pursued, but even then, Lunafreya remembered the words spoken to her the last time she was awakened and free of any shackles.

“Fair is foul, foul is fair, ain't that right cupcake? Now, this may serve you as a badge of honor.”, and the voice in her memories laughed, for quite sometime before all other things became blurred, and the glass on the tank slowly began to crack, until it shattered completely, exploding into the green goo all over the room, and were it not for her shackles she would have bashed her entire body on the floor, instead the elzeri remained hung up against the metallic support hanging her against the wall, almost as if it was a beast on display. It was only she tried gesturing two of her fingers to unleash herself that Lunafreya saw that some sort of nullifier was being used to trap her on those tight cuffs, her lips twisted themselves into an acid smirk.

“Careful, you moron!”, the male that spoke before said loudly, forcing his peers to stand up facing Lunafreya, and as the twi’lek female pressed over the buttons on the pannel, her cuffs were released. And such was the force of gravity, the elzeri fell to the ground as bantha’s fezes, using both of her hands, trying to stand upright. “Easy there, love, your legs must be numb from all the drugs they poured while you were asleep.”
“Love?”, her lips muttered, raising her head to see the room properly. It was a cell, a well-made one, most likely located on maximum security on whatever prison she was being held. This was the first one for her, being trapped inside a prison as an ordinary being, but the only thing that comforted her was the fact they made her stay in the most secured area on the prison, differing her from the other animals. She counted four, one droid unit, one twi’lek female, and two human males, all thrash, and most of them smelled bad. The human that spoke before tossed one something in front of her, something very familiar. “A gun?”

“Yeah, the old man that hired us offered one of those things to bring.”, the other one tossed a cloak at the floor, a dark one, made of jet, thick and with a hood that made her remind of the ones some Sith used to wear. But what made her grind her teeth was the fact that the idiot human was probably given the choice of bringing something much more useful such as a lightsaber but decided it was easier to carry a gun. “Nice ass, by the way. Are you done in whatever is that you are doing, love? Because we gotta get the hell..."

"Ord Vaxal. We are the Worm Emperor - the past, the present, and the future. We are life, and we are death.”, the voice spoke, not only to her sensitive ears but to every single one in the room, and with her head still down, the Solidor watched in silence as a tear fell from her eye, moistening the black leathery handle of her Arrax. “You have known me since you've known the Dark Side; and today, I will free you back into galaxy. To serve me, to serve the Sith, and to serve the future.", the thing spoke with many voices, merging themselves into a single tone with the slightest differences.

"I offer you not only freedom, but a chance at glory - to rule, to be rich, to feel powerful once more. I ask that once the cells open, you kill your captors, take their weapons and show them what strength truly means. Not for cruelty, but to regain what you have lost." As she grabbed the pistol, and all four beings decided to face the doors, they noticed as other parts of the prison started to shut down, alarms rang as a cacophany of screeching sounds. "Be strong, my children. I come - and with me, the full force of the Sith follow in my wake."
A moment of silence took over the people in the room.
“Ok, that was... weird.”, the female moved her fingers, trying to wield the Force and break that human’s neck with a single snap only to discover that her connection was faint, weak, numb by all the nullifiers they stuffed in her veins during her captivity.

“Interesting.”, Lunafreya declared, using her own strength for standing back up again, covering her half-naked body with the warm fabric of the cloak given to her. All of them started to move towards the doors, and as she began to walk in their direction, raising the gun swiftly and shooting the blazing lava blob against the human’s head, melting the back of his skull as he fell to the ground, dead. All three of them turned to face, and when the twi’lek growled something in her foul language at Lunafreya’s direction, once again she decided to sink her finger on the trigger, piercing her body with the melted holes of her gun. “Don’t ever call me love.”, her teeth started to grind against one another, “Filthy creatures... The human-pig said ‘old men’, who did he meant by that?”
The droid lowered his gun before anybody else and took it upon himself to answer.
“A male that identified himself as Rufus Praji.”, that forced her to look in his direction, the expression on her face was that of surprise and hatred, tangled in a twisted verse. Slowly she placed her left foot in front of her, feeling her ankle shivering trying to support her weight, ‘Move, daemon’s bury you, move!’, she thought commanded and despite feeling like sleeping, her body obeyed.
“Take me out of this repulsive place.”

 

[Inanna Harth]

Gunshots and blaster fire. The hum of lightsabers and the moans of the wounded and dying. Footsteps thundered down the halls of the prison, first from the security rushing to defend it, then from the invaders who had come to “liberate” the prisoners.

Or at least, the Sith and Dark Jedi prisoners. The rest, though in the minority, had a very different fate awaiting them. They knew it was coming, yet what could they do?

So far, no opportunity to escape or fight back had presented itself. Nomi Finch had searched for a way out of her cell long before the agents of the Worm Emperor arrived, to no avail. So she sat down in the lotus position and meditated, preparing to face whatever came her way.

She heard the footsteps approach her cell, but didn’t get up. The lock clicked and the door slid open, revealing a pale face hovering over her in the dark. Nomi swallowed the lump in her throat and willed her body to stay still even as she began to tremble. A booted foot took a step toward her, then another. White hands stretched out, reaching down, fingertips brushing her shoulders…

“Errol! How many times do I have to tell you before you get it through your ferrocrete skull—it’s no fun killing the unarmed and defenseless!”

The pale figure heaved a sigh. “I beg to differ.”

“Of course you do, you degenerate,” Messala growled, emerging from the shadows behind Errol. Nomi saw a pair of hooves, red armor, and a face like the bark of a tree, knotted and rough, crowned by two stubby little horns sprouting from his wrinkled, leathery brow.

“Why’d you take your helmet off?” Errol asked. In response, Messala held up a fat cigarra. Errol groaned. “I thought you had quit!”

“And I thought you had stopped doing chit like this,” Messala retorted, gesturing to Nomi. "Clearly I was wrong."

“You said you just wanted to relieve stress!”

“I still just want to relieve stress,” Messala echoed, shrugging as though his original answer was sufficient. Balancing a flame on his thumb, he lit the cigarra.

“Dammit, Dad!”

“Ooh-wee, a Sith Lord smoking. We can torture, kill, experiment on sentients, commit genocide, blow up a fething planet, but smoking, oh, that crosses the line.” The satyr puffed emphatically. “You know, us Force Users should all be smoking, given that we have the power to Detoxify Poison on a whim.”

Exasperated, Errol changed the subject back to the woman before them. “She’s a Jedi. I saw her records. She’s useless to the Worm Emperor.”

"Useless to him, sure. But not necessarily useless to me."

While the two bickered, Nomi had sat perfectly still on the floor. Her mind was racing despite her best attempts at staying calm, her pulse pounding in her ears. She glanced at their weapons and armor and wondered if this was the end—if she would die here and now, snuffed out by these men or those who would come after them.

Messala finally took notice of her and crouched down, smoke billowing from his nostrils like a dragon. She met his gaze through the fog as one would lock eyes with their executioner, and was surprised to find that his were as human as her own, with dark blue irises devoid of corruption.

“Look at you,” he purred. “One of those beautiful Jedi women. Strong and fierce as a warrior queen, elegant and noble as a lady. You know, when I first reached Master rank and thought that I had actually achieved something great—”

“Dad,” Errol started to protest.

“Why don’t you leave the two of us alone together, if you please?” Messala purred, giving his adopted son a wink. "Go find yourself a feisty guard to beat to death, or something."

Making a face, Errol backed out of the room and closed the door. Nomi couldn’t stand it any longer. She leaped to her feet.

“Stay away from me—”

“Hey, hey.” Messala backed away, his hands up. “What did you think I was gonna do? Make you reenact something out of one of those tacky little pamphlets in your daddy’s bottom drawer?” He laughed, revealing sharp yellowed fangs. “Ms. Jedi, I’m only trying to help.”

He pointed a claw toward the door. The sounds of fighting and killing in the corridors outside continued unabated. Nomi’s gaze darted and she shook, her terror obvious.

“There’s no obvious way for you to get out of here,” he continued. “Like Errol said, you’re of no use to His Worminess, so the ships reserved for transporting future servants of the Emperor won’t take a Jedi, and there's nowhere to go around here except the big scary jungle. But, luckily for you—”

He broke off, hearing the distinct thuds, thumps, and cries of a violent scuffle in another cell. Sighing, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Sounds like Errol found another Jedi. Let’s make this quick, I’ve got a few other goody-two-shoes to save from my beloved son's bloodlust while the night is still young. I’ll give you and anyone else I can smuggle out of here a ride to the nearest starport.” Reaching into his pocket, he produced a flimsiplast business card. “This here’s your proof of purchase. People are going to ask questions and shove their guns in your face, you show them this and say you're with me, Darth Transitus. Make your way outside the facility, you’ll find a force cylinder waiting to float you up to my ship—it looks like a giant floating gothic cathedral in the sky, you can’t miss it.”

Nomi took the card cautiously, looking it over. It seemed legitimate, but... “Why are you helping me?” she asked.

“Because killing you would leave a bad taste in my mouth. You're pathetic without the Force. Most Jedi and Sith are. If I find you on a battlefield sometime in the future, I won't hesitate to fight you. But this? It’s just not worth it.” He opened the door, glanced down either end of the hallway, then gestured for her to go through. “Go on! Nobody else here is going to give you a chance. Take it while you can!”

Nomi Finch walked through the door and down the hall.

Lunafreya Solidor | The Hyacinth | Odanneth Mal (Darth Nyx) | Ashin Cardé Varanin | Darth Empyrean | Merridius Black | Nadira | Xun of Throne | Arlis Cerran | Kal​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

​

ORD VAXAL
TALAGAR GROVE

The transport shifted as it hit turbulence, jostling Maliphant as he sat cross legged in rear of the gunship. It'd been weeks since he'd lost the fight to the Worm Emperor - him and Judas of Vahl that was - and it was only recently he felt himself recovering. Made a fool by the creature, he found himself curling a lip in disgust without a second thought - quickly correcting it to maintain appearances.​

​

"Copy.", a nearby soldier offered as he leaned towards Maliphant.​

​

" Odanneth Mal (Darth Nyx) has requested a quick pickup, Sir.", he informed.​

​

Maliphant gave him a questioning look, but not so much at him as it was directed at his less than present apprentice. With a finger, he motioned the comm link into his hand. He spoke into it with a clear and concise command -​

​

"How many prisoners do you have with you, Nyx?", he said accusatoraly. He knew the answer.​

​

"Do your job, and learn how to fight as The Asphodel and The Hyacinth do. I will not have you lacking in favor of subterfuge.", he said with the smallest hint of scorn. Almost slapping the holo comm back into the soldiers hand, he sighed as he lifted himself to stand.​

​

"T-Minus 30 seconds till drop.", the intercom offered.​

​

Maliphant already knew, he had done this many a time before. Would do it many a time again. As the landing pad opened, he would be the first to embark - with nothing but the Force to stop him from slamming into the earth below. With a slowed descent, he landed admist the gunfire - a crimson blade igniting at his side as he deftly slapped away the few careless bolts that came too close.​

​

With a grace only a Sith Lord trained in the various forms of combat available to them could, he walked almost casually to the nearest door to the Cell Blocks. Opening it with two fingers, he could feel his ability to use the Force slipping away as he entered - already annoyed at the efforts to blind the prisoners. He pulled his own holocomm from his pocket and spoke as he walked, sending a message to his apprentices -​

​

"Destroy the force nullification emitters. I'm tired of their presence already.", he said with a scowl.​

​

Pocketing it, he sent a blade across a charging prisoners chest and took another step into the open central area of the cells. A testudo stood on one end, slowly bashing prisoners in that fell, and various others laying on the ground or just barely moving. A nearby zeltron caught his attention, reminding him momentarily of Joza Perl . He whistled to her -​

​

"Come here if you want to live.", he demanded.​

​

How long had it been since he'd been apart of combat operations? Far too long it would seem.​

​

"What's your name?", he quickly asked Nadira , even as stun bolts shot over head.​

​

Soon, even more Sith would be trickling in to save those around them - to collect the others, and kill the most insane that remained. So long as the guards were isolated, this would be a simple operation.​

​

Merridius Black │ Arlis Cerran │ Xun of Throne │ Lunafreya Solidor │ Judas of Vahl │ Inanna Harth │ Ashin Cardé Varanin │ Kal​

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

When the full assault force hit the prison, Ashin had already crossed the last mile to the defensive line she'd compromised for them. She'd sent her spotter droid away with her beloved MX-1; she carried only Jentaral on her hip. Empty-handed, she jogged through the swelling chaos unharmed by stray shots and shrapnel.

That Force protection remained, because the Force dampeners accomplished absolutely nothing. A good fifteen years back, based on some vanishingly rare records of Luke Skywalker, she and Spencer had used the one and only Kaiburr Crystal in a concerted effort to learn to defeat ysalamiri. It wasn't a skill she used publicly: virtually no-one knew it was even possible, making it an advantage best kept very close to her chest. So far as witnesses went, none of these guards were going to survive the day anyway.

By the time Darth Empyrean 's order brought the full strength of the Force rushing back to the prison, Ashin had found her prizes. Not Sith, not Jedi, not even the Jal Shey crafters who'd soon be pressed into twisting their arts for the Worm. No, she was here for a small handful of very specific prisoners of the Corporate Authority.

Force-sensitive netrunners and rooftop couriers from all corners of Denon. Darkwire associates, maybe. Forcers who knew modern technology in ways Ashin never could. Cyborg street kids who'd poked the corpo dragon once too often and had their enhancements ripped out for it. They looked grim, scared, defiant, rabid, broken from sharing a prison with Sith. In total there were five of them, all stuck in a Faraday cage cell where no signal could get in or out. Missing implants left gaping holes with metal-and-skin edges.

When Ashin ripped their analog chains apart, the Forcer netrunners clung to her like children in a midnight storm.

 

[Odanneth Mal (Darth Nyx)]

Oda sucked on her burst lip as she listened to Maliphant, briefly raising her blaster to hit a guard down the hall squarely between the eyes when he was disctracted by The Asphodel and The Hyacinth .

She had just Force-cloaked herself through a compound for over a minute, if not more. The cell doors wouldn't be open if not for her, and now in quick succession both The Hyacinth and Darth Empyrean had scolded her like a child. One waltzing up after her work was done, the other safely cooped up on a ship. She didn't give a spit about anyone in this prison. She hadn't recognised any of the ghoulish faces she passed. They could all choke for all she cared.

<My job was to use my power to cut the cells, which I have, sir. See you on ship.>

As the com on her collar crackled with the end of the message, she plucked it off, dropped it on the floor and crushed it into the grate with her heel.

She started making a steady pace with her saber drawn, not choosing to engage in the mindless brawls errupting all around them in the corridors, back out towards the courtyard.