Man in the Iron Mask (Artemisia/Ember/Turin)

[Writer]

Who was he?

That face haunted her dreams...were they dreams?

No, they were more like nightmares. He plagued her, he taunted her and called her a name she didn't recognized. The weight of his presence on her through the Force made her cringe and even caused fear to somehow accumulate within the pit of her stomach. Even these cursed Jedi Ruins on Sarapin offered no comfort or release from this haunting figure. The rage within her swelled and boiled over as she stood within what appeared to be an old Council Chamber looking over a massive lava filled chasm. Broken walls exposed the once polished marble to the elements, now charred and black. Chairs that once belonged to great members of the Jedi Order smashed, bent or melted from the heat of the lava. An eerie orange-red glow basked the Artemisia in a warm glow, her shadow extending behind her. Beneath the armor, she would breath deep, trying to focus her rage into the darkness that swirled around her. The chaos that was this planet would suffice, it would hopefully suffocate whatever this man would come at her with. Her hands clasped before her tightly, the presence of Turin was to her right, still bound by the Force cuffs and stun-binders.

He was an interesting being in his own right, and she had her fun with him but before it could have really gotten interesting...the presence of that man cursed her. She could feel it, he was somewhere. He had to be, it was a twinge on her neck. What made her so important that this foul being was stalking her across the stars to where she had to change course from hunting down her own target on Byss.

For now, she would wait.

The Man in the Iron Mask would show himself, sooner or later.

[member="Ember Rekali"], [member="Turin Val Kur"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Artemisia Vy Kar"]

Getting her back was taking too long. Hunting down Liadain, meeting with informants, gathering what a pilot might call targeting data -- these had not been the problem. The problem, as usual, was his fething kid, this time due to massive mobility. He'd tracked her into and through the Deep Core, then out again across numerous starlanes. [member="Skye Mertaal"] knew he was here, and she was perhaps the only one. Maybe she'd be able to keep the One Sith off his back while he dealt with this particular problem.

This was a council room, though broken by long years. The chasm had to be a good forty metres deep, lava at the bottom, rough walls, rotten-egg air. His armor wicked away the sweat, but he had to keep rehydrating.

He spared a long glance for the stun-cuffed [member="Turin Val Kur"], a man he'd helped train on Felucia once upon a time. Aaralyn's rampage had left its marks, but this particular consequence hit home more than most. This couldn't be coincidence.

"I watched you fall," he ground out, as he emerged from the White Current -- appeared in the chamber without warning. Keetael tracking visions were a curse at times, but he'd known where he would meet her. "I watched the Vahla strip your mind for the One Sith. What do you call yourself, kid?"

 

[Writer]

She would turn, slowly to stare upon the man who haunted her dreams as he spoke, piercing red orbs gazed upon the armored form as he spoke.

~Kid?~ She growled in her mind. ~Who did this man think he was?~

She would smile beneath the helm. "So you're the heretic that wench Isolda spoke of, or atleast I assume so." She would shrug slightly and move to the right, away from the opening behind her, circling to the right of Ember. An armored hand would rise to point at him.

"You have no idea what you're talking about, I never fell. I was born like this! This is how the Goddess made me! Those weak One Sith weren't able to contain me and now look!" She pointed towards the captured man to her left now as she faced [member="Ember Rekali"]. "I take their possessions, their knowledge. And when I'm done here, I'll go to Byss and kill that witch Isolda who claims to be a sister and a servant of the Goddess." The armored hand would clench into a fist. "When all she does is cower before false prophets and Dark Lords!"

[member="Turin Val Kur"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Artemisia Vy Kar"] [member="Turin Val Kur"]

In this lighting, Ember couldn't tell if Turin was stunned, injured, unconscious, or merely biding his time. His focus was on Aaralyn, her red eyes through the helmet. As she circled to his right, he turned slowly clockwise to keep her in front of him.

"You can twist the fabric of reality as a Master. You know what the Force can do. Think about the odds that what I'm going to tell you could be true. Every memory you have is a lie, wasn't there a few weeks ago. That woman? You were her greatest enemy. Her allies overwhelmed you in an unfair fight, and she wiped you clean to try and turn you into her weapon. Her pet.

"I'm your father. I'm your teacher. You're the last of my five kids, and by the blood I'm going to rip from Vahl's throat you are not what they say you are."

 

[Writer]

Memories?

Images flashed through her head again, distorted and discolored figures. People laughing and smiling, another older man lecturing her? ([member="Shaw McKeller"])

What was all this? She roared in pain and ripped the helm free from her head and threw it across the room at Ember. "ENOUGH LIES JEDI! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" The heat from the lava touched her flesh and caused sweat to bead against her brow, or maybe that was the burning rage within her that she had been building up for so long. No matter, she charged at Ember either way. A blur of Force-induced speed, and at the last second she would bring the unignited lightsaber from her belt and the crimson blade would roar to life in a fury of plasma energy. As she came to Ember, she would swing with such furiousity, even if she did miss, she would cleave the wall behind him in two just by the impact of her armor alone.

[member="Ember Rekali"]

 

[The Hound]

He didn't know why he was here. She had shown herself one day, a potential key to his freedom from the Sith, but her talk of Isolda made him rethink his passions. He willingly walked with the Sith. His black hair thick with grease and sweat and grime. His tattered robes hung loosely around his malnourished body. The Sith were not kind to those they thought were Jedi. Isolda tried to turn him, others saw fit to interrogate.

But he was no Jedi. He was a deserter, still chained to the Republic through loyalty and nothing more. But the man before him felt familiar. She moved. He watched. She drew, he stepped. His calloused feet slapped on the cold, hard floor, his blue eyes filled with determination. She swung, he lunged, his shoulder into her back. A distraction. His blue eyes trained on Ember. What would happen, how the flow of this meeting gone wrong would fall on his hands.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Artemisia Vy Kar"] [member="Turin Val Kur"]

"I'm no Jedi."

Val Kur's shoulder slammed into her back a half-step and a quarter breath before her attack lashed out. The master of physical enhancement squared his feet and settled into a momentary stance, leaning into her attack to meet it. His rear hand snapped down and out, and the lightsabre struck the masterforged beskar of his bracer. The beskar'gam warded the blade away, but as he stepped in he jerked that elbow up and brought his fists close to one another.

Thorn of Ryloth hookblades, wreathed in energy fields that electrocuted on contact, sprang out of his bracers along the tops of his fists. Each hookblade was square-tipped, the blade's end containing a slim but insanely durable spring hinge for the two fat points that snapped out when the hookblade reached full extension. The entire mechanism was masterforged beskar, strong and heavy as a kal, and every bit as lightsabre-resistant. Each of the two Thorns' outward or downward point, the one corresponding to the little fingers of each hand, snared the lightsabre blade as he took the full impact on the gently crossed, near-parallel main blades. The momentum of her strike passed through his arms, his core, his legs, and skidded his boots a quarter inch in the dust; only by long practice did he keep from backpedaling. He jerked his arms apart, head forward, her blade trapped in the opposed hooks.

She was a dual-blade combatant; he knew that much for sure, and Isolda wouldn't have been fool enough to try adjusting something so instinctive as Aaralyn's combat style. The second blade would likely come out, just as it had in a hundred spars when they were Master and Apprentice, and he would meet it by disengaging whatever hand was appropriate. The trap locked him up more than it did her; it was designed to give her the sense of the upper hand for the moment it took for him to transition out of it.

 

[Writer]

Artemisia growled loudly and snarled down at [member="Turin Val Kur"] who was jammed into her back and pressing her closer and closer to [member="Ember Rekali"]. She quickly twisted and brought her left elbow down hard on the base of Turin's neck in order to knock him flat on his stomach and out of the way, as she had little else she could do with him at this point. He was more of a nuisance than anything else. And in the same rotation, she would bring an armored knee upwards towards the lower mid-section of [member="Ember Rekali"], for all the good it would do. A force driven knee might be able to knock him back and disengage the lock and allow her to move again.

 

[The Hound]

The blow connected, but not where she had intended. Cuffed, injured and weak, Turin lost his footing in his blind rush, slipping and the elbow connected with his left shoulder. It sent him to the ground, writhing in pain but for the most part he was still "alright". Grunting, his vision blurred for a moment. The Sith would meet her end at the hands of this man...Or his own.

All Sith would be punished.
[member="Artemisia Vy Kar"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Artemisia Vy Kar"]
[member="Turin Val Kur"]

Her right knee rose, but his left forearm was already in something like position for a block, and Sith armor grated against beskar as he performed that particular maneuver. He let go of the lock, straightened, stepped back-

And cast light into her mind with all the urgency of a father. Force Light was not always a tangible thing, not always some burning corporeal ray. His teachers, the Jedi of Luke Skywalker's day, had known it as spirit-to-spirit influence, as life energy. It would not, he knew, bring back what she had known.

But it might be enough to bring back what she had been.

No Sith Lord could rewrite a soul.

 

[Writer]

Artemisia blinked and stumbled backwards, the lightsaber dropping from her hand and disengaging. Her crimson orbs shimmered and turned a soft amber-hue as the connection to the dark side of the Force began to waver. She could feel the internal struggle within her mind, the conflict. There was a presence within her, an image of a man holding a young girl and the girl seemed upset. This young girl was crying, crying about her mother passing away and being alone.

"You're not alone...You have me..." The man said affectionately as he grabbed the young girl's chin and lifted her head up to look into his purple eyes. The man smiled and placed a shining necklace around her neck. "You're a Rekali, never forget that." He said, clasping the the necklace together behind her small neck. He would place a soft kiss upon her forehead and touch her cheek. "I will always love you, my little Aara." He said with a smile.

The vision then faded and warped ahead years beyond what she had seen, there she was, or someone who looked like her anyways, beating back a Sith. She was struggling, crying out for help but no one came. She managed to overcome the Sith Lord but fell and hit her head. She cried out to herself, but that man came again. He picked her up, sobbing and as fast as it came, the vision was gone.

"She won't be able to remember who she is, I'm afraid." Someone said in a grim tone. A healer of sorts, standing over a comatose looking form of herself, all beaten and bruised. And then that man, again. Was this her father?! She could see he was concerned, and upset. She followed him out of the room and watched him show anger and rage as he tore through a room a few floors down in the Medical Center from where she was, and then restrained himself when a Whipid comforted him.

Again, the vision was gone...then a sense of chill took over her form and before her was the woman she knew as [member="Darth Isolda"], and herself standing next to Isolda as she currently was...and then Isolda disappeared, leaving her standing there staring at herself as she knew she was and who her soul told her she was.

Atremisia was stunned, stumbling back and forth. Her eyes were blank as she collapsed to her knees, unable to comprehend the onslaught of images barraging her mind.


[member="Ember Rekali"]

 

[The Hound]

Now. Standing, back on his feet. One goal. One state of mind.

Kill her now.

He mustered all the strength he could and lifted his arms above her head and attempted to strangle her with the cuffs. He could barley get his arms above his own head, but luckily height advantage was on his side, so if he could get them over his head, he could get them over hers. His face was expressionless but his ice blue eyes danced in anticipation and glee. Finally he would be free.

[member="Ember Rekali"] [member="Artemisia Vy Kar"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Artemisia Vy Kar"] [member="Turin Val Kur"]

This moment, right here, was a shatterpoint for everything. Ember had never been that great at sensing even situational shatterpoints, but from time to time fate seemed to dance on the the tip of a knife. Aaralyn's mind was vulnerable, Turin's action predictable but somehow unforeseen-

It became very clear to Ember Rekali that the three of them could die within the next thirty seconds.

He gestured, and her weapon flicked up from the ground beside her, flared to life beside her face for the instant it took to cut Turin's manacles. Maybe the blade burned Turin, maybe not; he didn't see or sense it.

With all the strength he had, he projected Jedi calm into Aaralyn's mind, easing away fear and conditioning. The next few moments were on her.

 

[Writer]

For that brief moment, Artemisia felt hate and rage fill her as [member="Turin Val Kur"] began to choke her with his bindings. She felt his own rage fill her cravings for the dark side as the Force Light suffocated her very being. The memories that came to her mind during the brief moment of rage were the ones that [member="Darth Isolda"] filled her mind with, not the ones that were buried deep within her soul. Her eyes would shimmer back to that reddish hue for a brief second, and then back to their normal amber color. A continuous shift as she struggled within herself to regain control. The rage coursed through her veins, fighting against the Jedi calm to which Ember projected, she could feel it building, a swirling darkness within the very core of her being.

She had to fight it, could she fight it? What was she? Who had she become?

The very air began to energize itself, crackling and snapping with a darkened form of miniaturized lightning. Bits and pieces of building would begin to cave away into the lava below or into the wind that would start swirling around the form of Artemisia. Unknown to her, she was casting a spell that created a storm in which would bring about the doom of the three of them, and potentially a large section of the planet itself.

[member="Ember Rekali"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

[member="Turin Val Kur"]


One shot. One Kill.

That's usually how it went. Sight alignment. Breath control. A smooth pull of the trigger. It could take hours for a sniper to finally be able to finally send a slug downrange to hit a target. It was all a perfect melding of wind, sight picture and alignment, breath control, and a smooth pull of a finger. Thankfully, the Red Blade had the cybernetic eyepatch to help her calculate trajectory as well.

It took this long to ensure that she would not misfire; not when dealing with the SmartTraq ammunition of her Chiru Rifle. With an effective range of 80 meters, she was laying in the prone position on top of a nearby laser drill catwalk, her scope zoomed in through the small window of the room where Ember was slugging with his kid and what she could only assume was another hostage. One who clearly did not enjoy whatever tender ministrations the woman had lovingly provided.

"Chit," Skye would curse under her breath, sweat rolling down in beads as she felt a crackle in the air. A thrum of energy -- one all to intimately familiar. It started as a whisper. A promise. A wind of vengeance.

She'd not yet sent a tranq dart in the midst of the struggle, but she knew time was of the essence. She just needed an opening. One single -- THERE!

Having the male attempt a choke hold upon the female placed him directly in her line of sight. Breathe in. Out. Pull of the trigger between breaths.

In that moment, Skye did exactly that. Coated with a light Taozin lacquer, and wearing her taozin amulet, it would be difficult to sense the bounty hunter or her rifle. The ballistic syringe would go flying through the air, it's target Turin's exposed back.

 

[The Hound]

With his chains cut he felt himself falling. Not back, but away from the very mission he had allowed himself to be captured and tormented for. The death of Isolda's toy. Cursing under his breath he stumbled back, feeling the tranq prick his skin. His eye twitched in annoyance. He tried to grip the thing from his back without success, using the Force instead to grip and pull the thing out. But it was too late. He felt his legs crumble like coffee cake under his weight and his body fell to the floor.

He was out before his face hit the tile
[member="Ember Rekali"]
[member="Skye Mertaal"] [member="Artemisia Vy Kar"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Skye Mertaal"] [member="Turin Val Kur"] [member="Artemisia Vy Kar"]

Turin crumpled, and Ember would have let out a sigh of relief - he hadn't looked forward to crossing his old student, and Mertaal had come through once more - if not for the very present, very urgent Force-born storm.

"You're my daughter!" he yelled above the rising wind. The chasm was growing wider, just slightly, and that was yet another problem. "Come home, Aaralyn Rekali!"

Force Light washed over her mind once more, breaking the hooks that Isolda had driven into Aaralyn's psyche.

 

[Writer]

Daughter? What? Who? Aaralyn?

That name....it sounded so familiar. It was comforting.

She blinked back tears of confusion, of fear.

All she knew now was the Force and the darkness that consumed her essence was being washed away by a sudden influx of Light. The wind and lightning would suddenly stop as she brought her arms inwards, clutching herself tightly. She would weep softly and then without warning, she sent a concussive force of energy exploding forth from her small frame. The energy caused the entire area to shift and quake, the ruins cracking and rumbling in defiance.

She would look up at [member="Ember Rekali"] briefly, a softened and weak smile upon her face. "Dad..." Her right hand would reach out for him, and then suddenly the ground would give way beneath her, to the burning chasm below. Her hand remained extended towards him as she fell backwards, and immediately to her left, the limp form of [member="Turin Val Kur"] would begin to slide into the same sinkhole that was created beneath the two of them.

 

[The Hound]

The Force was often seen as completely understood by novices. No true Master saw it as a completed discipline. There were always as many mysteries to be had as there were stars in the Galaxy. The tranquilizer had done its work and he was in fact unconccious. Unable to move and his heart beat slowed. As his body began to slide down along with the rubble something ingrained in his mind, long before his abduction at the hands of Darth Ira, started scratching. Pecking.

In his mind's eye he watched as he floated in an endless ocean, nothing but darkness below and nothing but light above. His eyes shifted to the right, a complacent expresion on his face. This was his world, what he saw in countless meditations. It was his reality marble. Nothing here surprised him. Sometimes he would be thrust into visions while in this state. Even as the world above seemed to fall apart and drop into his calm and endless ocean, his ice blue eyes gazed on, indifferent. He was aware of what was happening. Soon his life would end. He would become one with the Force.

Thump.

His back hit something, no someone. Spinning around quickly he faced a dark siloette. His darker half. His eyes narrowed and the Dark Side tendril mass. A sharp, burning sensation filled his stomach as metaphorical blood began to cloud his once pure, calm water. Terror gripped him as he struggled against the beast. The air left his lungs and blurred his view of the black thing that stood before him. Looking down he grimaced and gripped the black arm that penetrated his abdomen. It leaned in, ominous and ambiguous, "The Goddess has not given you permission to leave this world mortal." Gripped by pain all throughout his body the darkness entered his body through the wound. The darkness below that had always seemed content to watch washed over him...There was no escape.

​

Spoiler

​

​

His body erupted with the Dark side of the Force. His fingers twitched, gripped the sliding ceramic tile beneath him as Isolda's message flooded his system, shocking body awake. Consumed by the Dark Side, yet completley aware of his actions he rose, the Touch of the Kin'dray keeping him upright as his section of floor fell into the sink hole. Gripping Darth Ira with the Force he flung her into the air towards Ember and taking the opportunity to leap from the would be death pit onto the tile. His back to Rekali he did not speak. He still held nothing but contempt for the Sith that had taken him on this strange journey, but his hate for [member="Darth Isolda"] was even greater and drove him to find her. And no one would stand between him and that woman.

He could feel her pecking at his mind again.
Çóm͘e li̵t̕t͟le̢ Or͏ac̀lę.͏..͏

Wh҉ispèr m͟e ̵th̛y ̵F̕ąt͞e͝.̵ ̸​

He would come. And he would shout her fate. Death was all that awaited her.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Aaralyn Rekali"] [member="Turin Val Kur"]

Among the Dathomiri, the Jedi, the Keetael, existed Force arts to enhance speed, strength and coordination. Those arts comprised Ember's specialty, to the point where he trained by arm-wrestling bull rancors. And that magma chasm had not escaped his notice, being, you know, right there. So when he leaped forward to catch his two former students, when Turin recovered himself and threw Aaralyn toward him, Ember snagged her with a grip that absolutely was not going anywhere. "Got you, kid, you're safe," he murmured, staring across the chasm at Turin's back. He raised his voice.

"Turin! Let me help!"