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The big man in front of her seemed a little curt, but polite and had an air of strength about him. Anashja nodded at his response. "Interesting advice, I will bear that in mind, I guess I retract my out and will tag along, that seems to be the willof the force after all." sometimes she cursed this damn helmet, it masked so many body language cues. She was smiling in friendship under the helmet. Maybe that is why people have such a hard time dealing with mandalorians sometimes.
As Valery signalled for them to leave she followed, trying to use her enhanced tech to keep an eye out for ambushes, despite it likely being entirely superfluous, considering the number of force users. The lead warriors stopped as they spotted a mawite patrol, this soon? damn. "I dealt with these guys on Odessen, nasty warriors, and the don't always have the grace to go down when you expect. Were you expecting something like this?"
Before she could get a response, the first of the Jedi flashed into action. Ana followed suit, jumping into battle, she drew her dual blades as the warrior opened up at her, flashing to the left and blocking the bolts with her shoto. She was fast, her 'gam was hardly what most mandalorians would call a proper suit of armour, but its lightweight nature allowed her to utilise her jedi training to its full extent.
Jumping in the air, she blocked again whilst sweeping low with her other hand to telekinetically take the legs out from under her assailant. The mawite yelled as he fell to the ground, in the seconds it took for him to recover, Anashja was on him with the blade of her primary saber and pushed the blade through his chest, killing him instantly.
Two more Mawites came at the little Tal, one from each side with their weapons swinging. "Not fast enough" she joked as she jumped into the air, her repulsors kicking in and back flipping her away from.the combat. Her shoto deactivated and she simultaneously opened fire with her wrist mounted weapon. It was a low caliber pistol but she hit the attached squarely in the meat of his shoulder. It staggered him, but it didn't seem to phase him too much as he turned towards her. Anashja landed maybe 5 metres away from them in a low crouch with both sabers ignited, daring them to try and cover the distance to re-engage her.
The Master of the Knights of Ren had arrived into the sacrificial chamber, watching in skepticism of the Sith Lord placed in charge here. Even as the Maw’s Wrath he knew very little of the work that was to be done here. He was tasked with making sure the plan would yield some success, if not pave the easier path to Tython. He did note that if the plan was to be a failure he was to make sure no one would know, if not evacuate the dark sanctum entirely. The questions was would it be achieved in time? With the signatures he sensed, his voxyn instincts running wild at how many force sensitives he could sense.
All around he could notice how the room was dimly lit, blood and death cling to the stale air. Watching as sacrifices were being dragged and the preparations were still underway. His undead vision arriving to the center of it all, that being the Sith Lord whom this whole ritual was based upon. He seemed unaware of everything that was going on, and that only proceeded to frustrate the dead man.
He stepped forward, as if to interrupt the calm serenity that the Sith must have found in his preparations. He finally spoke aloud disrupting the eerie silence that death could only fill. “Lord Ptolemis When will you start with this ritual? Time is running short, and I sense we may have been discovered… If we are to do this we must do it now… If need be I’ll try and buy you time.” He said expressing a mixture of frustration and overall concern for the project, as even the dark warrior was not aware if the preparations were fully complete. He had only been instructed to help oversee its success.
He turned from the Sith, reaching out with his senses he could feel a mixture. Some signatures he felt familiar, and others he did not. The numbers were steadily growing, and while normally Kyrel was excited by such a prospect, he was concerned if this would amount to failure. He only cursed himself silently wishing for more time. “They are coming…”
Those three words have a multitude of resolutions. Overall the same words rang true though as the Force reached out and touched all living things in some way shape or form. Religions and communities across the galaxy believe that the Living Force is much of the reason for all that happens both literally and existentially, that if you believe in and allow the higher power to determine your fate and that it is in control of your life the Force will bring you good things into your life. The Jedi. as well as the Sith believe this. The Force calls to everyone, they can hear it and call back.
What about those not attuned to the Force?
There are other words for this, intuition, instinct, your gut, “that little voice in the back of your head”. Everyone has them on some level and though they do not always follow them, this sensation is what many sensients associate with the Force without knowing it. It makes you wonder if all beings are attuned, right? Even Jedi use this feeling too, every now and then, or at least the wording. For example, Jedi Master Caltin Vanagor is walking with the group and getting low when Noble called out for it, sighting some type of concern within the sector of ground they were covering. Vanagor was paying attention, but his focus was still on the forest.
I may sprint into that mess if I need to, just a heads up.
She needed to know because this was her gig and while he was needed here, he might be needed in the forest. The big man was not diminishing anything in the realm of abilities of the Jedi in there currently, but because everyone could use a little help every now and then. There was a darkness in there that he knew how to face. The others were more than capable to do so as well, but this combined with the roaming patrols and the overall taint in the forest itself made for problems that no one needed. This was one of those times that the big man wished his connection to the Force was still “traditional” and he could reach out to one of them through it and relay a message of support.
Maybe he should have chosen one or the other.
The massive Jedi Master’s focus was not where it should have been at the moment they were caught by a patrol of Cirihut Warriors. Vanagor did not engage immediately as others already had, the big man was busy sizing them up and waiting in the wings in case he was needed. It was then that the second patrol, ones who looked to be “Interceptors” or “Closers”, were bigger than the others and their power maces looked to be the size of some of the Padawan’s heads. Now it was Caltin’s turn to jump in as he walked towards two of them who seemed to pay him no mind. Grabbing one by the neck, the big man threw him at (and almost through) a nearby tree. The other one made the mistake of bringing the power mace down at the big man's head and shoulders. Sidestepping the blunt force trauma that would have turned him into a bloody stump and planted two hard fists into the warrior’s midsection. This would have knocked almost anyone several meters back but this monster seemed to enjoy it.
As the other was getting up, the massive Jedi Master realized that this was not just another fight, these warriors were for real and they would not stop even downed. That fact only cemented his thought of potentially going back and forth. Not necessarily being in two places at once, but “floating” back and forth between the Sanctum and the Forest. He was one man and could only do so much, but the big man would at least fight to do so.
What was it Noble said? That ending this ritual was the priority? She was indeed right. They needed to end it now.
Slaves hung from the arced ceiling of the dome-like sacrificial chamber, the heat from the pool of embers slowly torturing them from below – it was a cruel practice intended to break down barriers through suffering, and make way for a true purity of flesh. Sacrilegious mantras rolled forth from beyond the Blasphemer Lord's mask, seeping through its narrow slits, as if a thousand voices chanted in his head loud enough for some of the cacophony to bleed through into reality. The sound of slouching drudges dragging their feet, mixed with the desperate moans of the slaves being slowly cooked alive produced a hellish symphony of horror. Lost in the chants in his head and the grotesque beauty of the ritual that is to take place soon, Darth Ptolemis shifted his gaze between the hanging slaves at an eerily slow pace.
Yet suddenly, as if a literal herald of death stepped through a tear in space and time, a consummate sense of darkness manifested behind the Sith, right near the entrance of the chamber. In contrast to his glacially slow head movements, he now turned back with great attention. And there he was; the hooded man moved, sowing omens with each step.
“Lord Ptolemis When will you start with this ritual? Time is running short, and I sense we may have been discovered… If we are to do this we must do it now… If need be I’ll try and buy you time.”
Ptolemis listened without moving, a complete enigma standing before the Master of Ren. The Sith scholar Ptolemis knew much about the man in front of him and had been eager to meet the real entity behind the name that curled the blood of many in the galaxy. – The Wrath of the Maw. – The non-answer lingered, his voice's industrial timbre racing up and down the overhead dome. – Indeed, I sense them now. – Ptolemis glanced back at the pulsing pyre for a couple of seconds, secretly impressed by the keen senses of Kyrel Ren
standing with him. Priding himself on his sovereignty over the Force, Ptolemis viewed himself as a witchmaster of the Dark Side, which made the unholy Knight's early recognition of the concealed Force signatures all the more significant. Ptolemis turned his head back to Kyrel. – Through the blood of the unworthy I have already summoned several units of various troops that now patrol the sanctum's surroundings. – The Blasphemer's hand emerges from beneath his occult robe, holding a datapad, with several of the nearby patrols highlighted in red. – I suppose I should have known. This could only be the work of Valery Noble
. – With a click, an image of the Jedi Master and bullet points revealing a concise selection of the most important information on her pops up on the screen of the datapad. – If it is indeed her, then we need to join forces. She'll bring her best with her. – Ptolemis holsters his datapad and levels his emotionless mask with the visage of the undead harbinger.
– I need time. – He said and nodded, the monotony of his voice briefly interrupted by a tone of acknowledgement of Ren's plan. – But if you join me in the ritual… It could speed up the process. – Ptolemis gestures at the rows and rows of hanging live slaves above them. A short pause, and he continues. – Would the role of the executioner fit the Wrath of the Maw?
Was it really good to be back? In the midst of a cataclysmic, galaxy-ending war that pitted all major powers against a unprecented threat. Perhaps. The not-so-young padawan had learned much on his hiatus from the Rebel Alliance, on his quest for knowledge, understanding and insight into that mystical energy field that binded every living thing together. Keiran had made friends, lost some, and found a little bit of himself along the way. In a sense, he had never really left that quest, and was most definitely still on it. At least now, however, there were a few familiar faces to help him if he ever got lost on the way.
The reliant, dependable energy that usually surrounded him no longer carried him. The whiff of unease, fear and terror floated through the air. Keiran put a hand to his now stubbled chin. He desperately needed a shave. The Jedi said nothing as they tried to formulate some sort of battle plan. Darkened skies and the misty environment provided an eerie ambience to the endeavour. Instinctively, a hand went to the silvery cylindrical object on his utility belt. On the other side, a large blaster pistol hung from the belt. He found it surprising that his hand went to his lightsaber first. It was somewhat comforting to know that the Jedi in him never left.
Keeping his mouth shut, as the young Iris Arani
aired her concerns, choosing to contemplate the situation. Ripples of a shadowy presence reached him, and he frowned as he felt it pass over him. His suspicions were confirmed as footsteps disturbed him, and he rushed to cover periodically sticking his head out to try and get an idea of what they were going to be up against. Cirihut Warriors. Kark it! He thought. While it wasn't his first mission back from his excursions, he didn't think he'd be sent on anything more than a milk run. Maybe they could observe, follow them? Maybe see where they were going? Action was set instone as one of their number rushed out to meet with the Cirihut. If you can't beat em, join em.
Whipping out his lightsaber hilt, he hit the red button, and the long amethyst blade shot out of the top of the hilt, casting a purple glow as he leapt out of cover, attacking an unsuspecting warrior from behind. Coming down from his leap, he slashed downwards vertically, into a warrior's back before dodging red darts of fire that came from another. "Hey Mando! Watch your back!" He shouted out to Anashja Tal
, as he reached out to bat away a line of blasterfire that came his way. The Mawite, seemingly having given up on conventional warfare, swung its relatively large blaster at him, in an attempt at a pistol whip. Keiran managed to dive away, but not necesarily in time, as he felt a piercing pain in his left arm where the clumsy attempt had missed his head, and hit there. "That wasn't nice." He mused, rolling away from danger periodically.
"Without those people, the ritual can't be completed." Sacrifices were that for a reason. Iris frowned for a moment, watching the others. They all just moved on, following after Valery Noble
. The Padawan let out a huff, but followed none the less. Together they were stronger, right? The enemy came, and everyone leapt into action. Fighting. Iris stayed back. Observing. There was something to this, something to the feeling that kept nagging at the back of her mind.
Then she sighed. No, she couldn't ignore the people further in. The colors of despair and desperation. People needed to be saved.
"Okay.." She tensed for a moment, then went into a full on sprint. Slipping through the battle to get past the guard. The others could help stop the ritual. And she'd free the prisoners. With Master Noble and Master Caltin Vanagor
, they should be able to handle themselves, right? And Iris was a healer first and foremost. If the people needed medical help, this was the best path forward.
That's what she kept telling herself at least as she slipped under a mace strike. She didn't spare the warrior a glance, continuing instead forward to rush the building.
The Cirihut continued his assault, doing so now with just his left hand, having had his right arm sliced off seconds prior by Darien, and it was then that the Jedi became fed up. With a precise stroke, Darien severed the Mawite's remaining arm and then proceeded to cleave through him multiple times, slicing the warrior into numerous pieces. Happy now? he thought sarcastically as the chunks of what used to be a Cirihut Marauder crumbled to the ground.
Taking a minute to scan his surroundings, he suddenly realised the chaos unfolding around him. He saw the Mandalorian who had joined them earlier take apart a group of Mawites in seconds and watched the tower of a Jedi Master go toe-to-toe with two Warriors that rivalled him in size, even nearly throwing one through a tree. Blast it! What the hell was I thinking just charging in? he scolded himself. He'd now jeopardised the mission because of his reckless actions.
Suddenly, he spotted one of the padawans making a run straight for what seemed to be the temple they were looking for, recognising her as the apprentice who had spoken up about helping the sacrifices. He then watched as she barely slipped under a power mace swung straight at her face. Seeing the Mawite turn to her for another strike, Darien charged him, managing to intercept the warrior by impaling him through the back and then slamming him to the ground, allowing the padawan to continue towards the temple. It was then that he realised that she was in way over her head, though given what he did just a few minutes earlier, he probably would've done the same thing.
Although she had noble intentions, they truly had no idea what kind of horrors the Sith have waiting in that sanctum, with it being highly unlikely anyone, let alone a padawan, could survive in there alone. With a final look back at the battle happening behind him, Darien trekked in after the young Jedi, steeling himself for whatever may lurk within.
He wasn't going to let someone die for his mistake.
Still low to the ground, Valery watched the patrol of Maw elites move closer but while she had hoped to avoid confrontation with them, a fierce battle erupted within seconds — one that forced all the Jedi to respond. While she felt confident in their ability to overcome this particular threat, she wasn't quite happy with the knowledge that those within the Sanctum were going to be aware of their approach.
But they were Jedi, so they would adapt and overcome.
Jumping out from her own position, Valery landed deep within chaos and raised her left hand up while her double-bladed weapon ignited in the other hand. Two of the warriors were lifted off the ground by the Force, their bodies frozen under the telekinetic pressure. She drew them closer and with quick sweeps of her weapon, she ended their lives instantly.
There was no time to waste, and she was not particularly fond of making enemies suffer the way Darien Kovahn
's strikes likely were. Perhaps she'd have time to discuss it with him later, but they had to focus on the objective for now.
"We have to move for the Sanctum! Stay together and fight your way through!" Valery called out, hoping to get the Jedi who didn't run off on their own to coordinate their efforts. Great danger was ahead of them still, and she worried that Iris Arani
was going to get herself in trouble again. She was definitely going to get a talking to.
The Jedi Master then took point again and continued the charge forward.
....
Meanwhile, at the entrance of the Sanctum, its guards gathered and waited for the Jedi to arrive. The elite warriors from before were tough to handle, but the Nephilim were a different kind of dangerous altogether. Iris Arani
and Darien Kovahn
were likely going to be running into them first, and hopefully, they would get through alright.
Either way, the mission was off to a rather chaotic start.
"Yes Master Valery, whatever is required" he said with a respectful nod, choosing to accept her way forward with his life. If there was one Jedi he'd trust without hesitation, it would most certainly be here. Silas looked to Iris and sighed to her reaction. It made sense for her to complain, but if their mission was to stop the ritual entirely they'd need to shut it down from its source.
Soon enough Noble would lead the group off towards their target, walking steadily through the forest of Wizar which constantly barraged their minds with the heaviness of the Darkside. It was obvious the planet was falling under a dark cloud, something that threatened to consume every living thing on it. The Sith were more than certainly here alright, it was up to them to kick them all the way back to the dark abyss of nothingness. Nodding to the masters orders again, he spread out away from the nearest person close to him. All of them needed to be at the top of their wits, who knew what abominations they'd be thrown against.
In front, Valery told them to keep low as a maw patrol came right towards them. It was unknown if they knew they were here, but it was clear these warriors weren't the standard they send out for battles. These looked well equipped and menacing to say the least, not their typical enemies at all "I say we stay here and let them pass, we ne- hey!" he said in surprise as one of the jedi rushed forward with no hesitation, coming face to face with the elite soldiers.
"Fine then, straight forward it is!"
Jumping up from his spot he ran straight towards one of the warriors, his hand extending down to a tree trunk and lobbing it straight at him. The Sith chopped it down with ease, but that gave Silas time to get close and land the first strike. Both warriors battled aggressively, each strike getting faster than the last. They seemed to be at a stalemate until Silas caught him off guard, taking him to one knee with a powerful leg kick before thrusting his saber straight into the middle of his chest. Breathing heavily, he looked to Master Noble and the others and ran after them, eventually reaching the front of the pack.
He knew Iris had ran ahead, along with the Jedi that had raised the alarm of their presence. The two of them alone wouldn't last for a long time, they'd need to find them before something else did.
"Do those two have a death wish?!" He quipped out loud, as both Iris Arani
and Darien Kovahn
rushed into the Sanctum. He rolled away from the thud of the Cirihut landing its mace where his head had just been. Way too close for comfort. Keiran leapt up into a flip, landing on his two feet, and whipping out his Hand Cannon. Pointing the barrel straight at the chest of the Mawite, he sent a burst of pellets straight at his foe. Traden would have been proud. Spinning on his axis and holstering the cannon, he tried his best to plot a path toward the entrance, but it wasn't exactly clear. It was now or never he decided and jogged on, being stopped dead in his track by another Mawite, who swung for him, Keiran ducking to make sure the last time did not repeat itself.
"Not one of you again.. Do you guys never get tired?" He asked dryly, angling his body at about seventy degrees as the weapon came back around to strike him. Keiran had to time this right; Just as the next volley was about to come around, the young Jedi made an upwards slash at the meaty arm of the Cirihut, cutting straight through without issue, jumping out of the way as the mace came down with the arm. Grisly.
Reaching into the Forrce, he opened his palm, pulled back, and forced his arm foward straight for the Mawite soldier, and sent them reeling back with a quick Force repulse. However it seemed that as he felled one, the other came back for revenge. The others seemed to be making good progress. Master Noble's idea of sticking together to take advantage of the strength in numbers principle was the most logical one, but not necessarily the easiest. The Jedi kept getting bogged down in small skirmishes. Keiran watched Silas Westgard
attack a foe with a tree trunk and seemed impressed.
"Nice one kid!" He called out. Continuing on his path, he dived down, straigth towards another adversary, diving to the ground into a knee slide, using the momentum to propel himself forward. Suddenly, as he was about to pass through the behemoth's legs, he hacked at it's boot-clad, tree-trunk legs, slicing them as he came out of the knee slide, and got closer to the Sanctum's entrance. But it seemed that the whole planet was trying to sabotage him, as when he got there, a true sight to behold awaited him. About three metres tall, height set to rival some of the trees in the forest, he stared up at the Nephilim
that towered above him. Clad in long cloaks that obscured their faces and that he imagined might conceal armour.
"Sithspit..." The others hadn't arrived yet, but seemed to not be too far behind. He simply peered up, jaw dropped down to the ground as the shadow cast by their visage shrouded him in temporary night. A distraction might help, as Darien and Iris had already gone in. He put his wrist comlink up to his mouth to speak to the rest of the Jedi. "I'll provide a distraction! Get in if you can!" Keiran relayed. He took a step back, and used all of his being to scream at the Nephilim who seemed to stir with the presence of his lightsaber. Keiran raised the amethyst blade up and smiled. "HEY! DOWN HERE, CATCH ME IF YOU CAN YOU BIG.. DUMMY!" He mentioned as he hoped he had gained their attention as he begin to run around them erratically, waving his lightsaber.
Iris didn't even look back, even as she felt someone else following behind. Were they coming to help her? Assuming she was being reckless? Maybe, but she really wasn't a fighter. Helping people, that's what she was good at. That and running away from Sith. A grim sort of smile formed as she sprinted into the entrance of the sanctum. Only to see the giants standing in her way.
Why did the Sith always have to be so hulkingly tall!? Still, she didn't stop.
<Keep your eyes closed.>
Her 'voice' reached out to whisper in Darien Kovahn
's mind. She wasn't sure which Jedi exactly had decided to follow her, but it was the warning she could give. The Padawan kept her saber on her hip as she reached for something else. Small spheres. Grenades. Not the lethal kind, though. She dipped down, sliding across the ground. Between one of the behemoth's legs as they brought down a terrible looking axe.
They turned, their hateful gaze shifting to follow the Padawan as she continued to run. Only to see the small sphere tossed eyelevel. They blinked. Then the world went red. And purple. And green. Blue. Paint erupted out from the grenade, coating everything in the entrance in the shades of a rainbow. Armor, technology, they'd all been built to see through smoke, to protect the wearer's eyes and ears from flashbangs.
Not so much paint.
Ignoring her mess, Iris continued on. And frowned. Kyrel Ren
was here. In a corner of the dim colors she saw his familiar darkness.
Well, maybe she shouldn't have run off. Too late to turn around though. People needed help, and she wasn't going to ignore people she could reach with her own hands.
"What is our plan when we come upon the source, Dagon? What are the rules of engagement for Corin and I?"
Frankly, this was one of the very few instances where the raven-haired Jedi had not scribbled down a specific action plan. Hardly any prior information to work with -- it'd all be up to creative improvisations rather than rigidly trained choreography.
"Uh, cleanse the corruption. If that's not possible then -- destroy it." he responded, "And as to rules of engagement... try and capture the culprits responsible." if they couldn't be redeemed, then Azrael would welcome another mentally ill guest of honor. That is if the culprit or culprits left them without any other choice than the ultimate resort.
"Stay close. Don't drift -- it's getting darker and darker."
And then, a morbid voice sang through the wicked melody.
"Theatricality and deception are powerful agents to the uninitiated. The shadows betray you because they belong to me."
Whether it was the words of the agent of darkness or the spine rattling notes of the tune, Dagon slowed down to a halt. His nose wrinkled as he attempted to triangulate the source through the Force. The darkness obstructed his senses and shook his resolve, veiling the clarity of the Light Side with a miasma of corruption. The blackest night falling before their eyes was merely a reflection of the murk within the ethereal.
Throughout the Stygian War against the fallen Sith Empire, the New Jedi had rarely faced off against Sith specializing in the works of mentalism. Deception had merely been a practical tool the Sith had employed to reach their material goals. An intangible threat in the physical world.
This was different.
Fighting a phantom menace may have been easier had the New Jedi -- or at least his generation -- not been masterless; provided with the standard A-Z learning curve of Jedi. Alas, most, if not all, of what they had learned was through direct experience on the edge between life and death. The last time Dagon had faced off a foe solely through the realm of the Force had been the corruptive presence of his father -- and he'd almost fallen to the Dark Side.
He licked his teeth. They had to find the Sith fast.
Ghostbusting never was his specialty.
They moved once more under Ran's hunting lead but each step felt heavier. The melody cast doubt, hesitation seeking to erode their resolve with every inch of ground covered. The Knight's scope of sense shortened as the darkness obscured his view through the Force, deafened by the ghastly rhythm. He clenched his fist in feeble resistance but his mouth opened to utter the order to halt.
"S--" he began but a sudden tide of clarity washed over the web of deception, untangling the lattices of self-doubt cast by the Sith. The empyrean manifested carried a familiar presence. An ancient presence. Caltin... the presence of the venerable Jedi of a hundred epochs, Caltin Vanagor
, much like his physical form was a rock to hold onto against the storm of corruption. The shackles binding their feet corroded, liberating them from the Sith's trap; at least for now.
But troubles always came in pairs.
Six crimson orbs materialized in the deepest shadows of the forest. The sickening aura emanating from the trio identified them before the threads of moonlight revealed their pallid faces.
"Nephilim." he sourly stated, then clarified, "Sithspawn. Of the... irrecoverable type -- monsters." he added specifically to Corin; Ran, the Mirialian once thralled in service to the Sith, most likely knew better than most.
"I'll draw the two on the left on me. You take the one on the right. Focus on one by one -- they cant eat up quite a few lightsabers to the gut and still crush you like a flea." the towering behemoths, Darth Solipsis
's personal creation, had been a common and terrifying sight he encountered when he'd infiltrated the now destroyed Holy City of Gehinnom. "Go!"
The cerulean blade snap hissed to life lightening up the immediate area before it followed the Jedi's fast, divergent trail straight at the two Sithspawn. He produced a feint of a lunge, then jolted to the side. He had no plans of engaging the two of them at once, not unless he forced an opening. A distracting skirmish.
This was not how she had expected the day to progress at all, but adapt and survive. She ducked as Keiran Varn
shouted to her and bolts went across her head. She swept her blade out instinctively just as one of the mawites stepped into her path, removing its foot and ankle in a single sweep. The man went down, still screaming and still swinging so she dispatched him with a quick decapitation. Execution style kills never sat well with her, but she wasn't about to sit and let him recover when he was there for a free kill.
There was a breath on the fight for Anasgja and she quickly took stock, watching Iris Arani
set off a paint grenade of some description. That was a nice move, not a traditional Jedi tactic she had seen, good to see someone thinking outside the box, it was one of the benefits of her own duality. The Nephilim creatures were huge, nearly twice her height, but she had mobility. As Keiran Varn
shouted again for everyone to get in, she hit her repulsors as she ran towards the entrance, as she closed on the painted beast she cracked a thermal detonator and threw it the moment she knew it would detonate by its head. Blinded and unable to react, it was a done deal when the bomb went off it tore into their upper torso. An arm was ripped apart, a shoulder and half its head. The monster almost looked at though it hadn't decided if it was dead, but thankfully it dropped to the ground, the contents of its skull liquefied by the concussive blast.
She ran past the downed creature and followed Iris into the temple. The darkness was pervasive in the air and she felt the warmth of her crystal as it protected her. She finally caught up with Iris. "You possessed or something? Running off ahead like that? If you know something, would be a good time to let us know." she laughed. "Would love a few of those paint grenades too."
Her eyes followed those of Iris into the shadows, made less intense by her optics and she saw the shape of a man, that was who she sought them. Anashja activated both sabers and stood beside the Jedi.
”To become truly great, one has to stand with people, not above them”- Montesquieu
” Respect.”
Others should be respected. The community should be respected. Self-respect is important. Environmental sensitivity. Relationships should be respected. Elders should be respected. Opinions should be respected. You get my drift. Others' feelings, wishes, rights, or traditions are respected. Respect is something that might take a lifetime to earn and a single instant to lose. Respect can be given, but it has greater significance and strength when it is earned. Someone who has earned your respect, or you having earned someone's respect, is seen as a remarkable accomplishment. Whatever you name it: respect, esteem, regard, acclaim, admiration, terror, whatever you call it, it's a powerful sensation and emotion.
Caltin Vanagor was a Jedi during the "Old Republic/Galactic Empire/New Republic" eras, and his thoughts and methods were not always appreciated. In fact, some of his colleagues, as well as the Council, looked down on him. Considered "too aggressive" or someone who lets his emotions get the best of him. But there were more, a lot more, who admired him for his acts. The enormous Jedi Master did follow his emotions, but while his impulsiveness caused him personal and conversational problems, it earned him respect because of the way he led by example.
” Respect.”
Despite his admiration for many of the Jedi, the large guy lost respect for many of them today, believing that their acts, reasons, and outlooks were irrelevant to anyone. They didn't seem to care about the Jedi Code or the Tenets. He wasn't thinking about back in his day, or when he was a youngster or anything like that; this was not some bitter "old man" emotion. No, Vanagor had felt like "Jedi Knight" and "Jedi Master" were merely Zodiac signs today, not important accomplishments. Even in the Silvers, it was now a "side job," or at least it appeared to be. He was concerned by it. It's more than just being referred to as "Master Caltin."
” Respect.”
He bit his tongue around the two Padawans, especially the obnoxious little spring blossom that was Iris Arani
, perhaps out of respect for Master Valery Noble
. The huge guy seemed unconcerned about her disgustingly cute behavior or that of the bright-eyed Padawan Silas Westgard
, but the Jedi Knight Darien Kovahn
appeared to be. There was a reason that this was Noble’s gig, and the others needed to accept that, giving your own opinions was important, and giving them freely was what all should be able to do. That being said, once your opinion was given, if it was not agreed upon or adhered to, then that was that. Like it or not, Padawans have a place and they need to know it.
” Respect.”
One thing was certain: a group consisting of a Jedi Knight and two Jedi Masters was about to attack this Sanctum. The Dark Sanctum was about to be lit up, according to the uninitiated. In any case, the team ready to end the ritual could benefit from an extra Master, but there was also the team out in the woods. Both were capable of handling themselves, but unknown circumstances threatened to derail any chance of success. Perhaps he could rescue the day, perhaps he could be more than a backup, but he would try for their sakes, for the sake of those in peril, but he had to make a choice.
” Respect.”
Arani was running off to “Gawd knows wherever”, so was that other guy with the hand cannon running off willy nilly was not going to help either. Though it did seem to draw some of the Cirihut away. He could focus on those who chose to stay and endanger the mission, the Jedi, the forest, the slaves, and the very sanctity of the area. He was not in the mood to really care about the feelings of those who might think otherwise, but putting an end to the darkness was the priority. By putting an end to the darkness by cleansing the forest and stopping the ritual they would ensure the safety of those in captivity and anyone else that they might ensnare in the future. This was their priority. This was his priority.
” Respect.”
Arani was fleeing to "Gawd knows where," and that other guy with the hand cannon fleeing at random was not going to help either. Though it did seem to entice some Cirihut to flee. He could concentrate on those who chose to stay and jeopardize the mission, the Jedi, the forest, the slaves, and the area's entire purity. He wasn't in the mood to give a damn about the opinions of those who disagreed, but putting an end to the darkness was the most important thing to him. They would safeguard the safety of those in captivity and anybody else they might catch in the forest by putting an end to the darkness by clearing the woodland and terminating the ritual.
” Respect.”
It felt somehow like he was meant to be in the forest, as if he was destined to fight here, like some holo-movie star having a part in five different movies all based in this ecosystem. It was an odd feeling, but it felt comfortable just as comfortable as he felt making his way towards the middle of the forest, towards the other Jedi. The Force worked in mysterious ways, but he felt that the Sanctum was meant to be taken without him, he was going into the Forest. The increasing patrols amount of patrols he would come across was proving true. This was not just a “dark forest” or “nightmare lands” or anything along those lines. The forest’s current state felt “artificial” like it was corrupted and not originally like this. That only served to irritate the big guy further. The forest was being destroyed with no regard for what it would do. That was unacceptable.
” Respect.”
Slowly pulling his arms over his shoulders and emanating a light growl, the massive Jedi Master let the energy build in him, waiting and ready to come out violently. There was a purpose to this, a method to his madness that would only be completed when this electrical storm of Force energy repulsed outward in a powerful display.
Here I am, all alone! A lone Jedi! What shall I do?
Darien had made it to the sanctum, though he had barely kept up with the padawan, Force that girl is fast he thought as he made his way towards the temple entrance. As the skull-shaped entryway came into view so did its guards, which caused Darien to freeze in place. He had heard rumours and legends of the Nephilim but to see one, no, a group of them standing before him, instilled a sort of terror he had never felt before, but the sudden appearance of the padawan coming to face them quickly snapped him out of it, hearing what he assumed to be her voice in his mind, warning him of the danger.
It's a little late for that he thought as he readied himself to help the padawan, but stopped as she then threw what looked to be grenades at the sithspawn. The next thing he knew there was an explosion of colour, with the Nephilim being covered in what looked to be, paint? Whatever it was, it was enough of a distraction so that the padawan could slip by unnoticed into the sanctum. Darien wasn't so sure he'd be that lucky. He then noticed two others from his group had arrived at the sanctum, recognising one of them as their Mandalorian ally, and engaged the Nephilim, with the other shouting at the others to get inside the sanctum, all the while taunting the hulking guardians. Brave kid, Darien thought, taking the opportunity he'd been just given to get inside the sanctum, not letting the young rebel's sacrifice go to waste. As he made it near the entrance, the Mandalorian suddenly jumped out and tossed at one of the Nephilim what appeared to be a- "Oh kark!" he exclaimed as he dived down just when the thermal detonator exploded, getting himself knocked into a wall.
He climbed to his feet and looked up to see the charred and bloody mess the detonator had left behind. Eh, seen worse he thought dryly as he went into the temple, finally catching up with the padawan he'd been chasing. He also noticed that the Mandalorian had joined her when he saw, or more felt, the dark figure in the shadows. Igniting his lightsaber along with the Mandalorian, he positioned himself alongside her and the padawan, ready to engage whatever this dark presence was.
Cleanse the corruption or destroy its source. It didn't sound like much of a plan, but Ran trusted Dagon with the details. Then for a brief moment she locked eyes with Corin. The trust she had for Dagon was extended to him as well. Their focus would be the capture of any Mawite and Sith forces they encountered. If they couldn't succeed, death was likely to follow. Ran just hoped it was the death of the opposition and not one of theirs.
As the trio continued with Ran taking point, a voice cut through the music. "Theatricality and deception are powerful agents to the uninitiated." The message echoed lower and lower each time. It was hypnotic and then it was gone, promptly replaced by an assortment of pleading voices. "Nineteen, please!" One demanded."Nineteen, help!"Another ordered her. "Nineteen, why didn't you save me?" A third asked frantically. I couldn't, She said in the back of her head as the shadows danced, moving behind trees to the desperate music. Each shadow aligned itself with another voice, and by extension another dead experiment. The ghosts of Ran's brothers and sisters cried, and questioned. She missed her chance to save them.
No! No! This is not real. She silently struggled. With her attention occupied each step she took was less deliberate. The darkside echoed, and a fog quickly settled across her mind, but there was a light. It was small in size but it grew. This is not real... The thought echoed again and again, until the shining light overwhelmed the darkness in her mind. Then she could visualize it. Her success over the sorcery and illusions. Ran steeled herself against the dark trick using the force. She would not feel the misaligned guilt, or the despair of the forest. Sith sorcery had already taken thirty years of her life. It would not be allowed a second more. Ran would make sure of it as she unintentionally took her first steps in the use of battle meditation. With it she bolstered herself, and Corin against the dark deception. She just hoped he was strong enough to steel himself against the dark trick as she and Dagon had.
Free of Gnost's dark spell, Ran's lightsaber, taken into her left hand, ignited. Its white glow joined with the cerulean of Dagon's blade and would mix again with the activation of Corin's. The writhing vines, and choking roots were kept at bay as the Nephilim approached.
Ran looked at Corin. "You heard Dagon. Do not get crushed." She said before charging the now lone Nephilim brute.
His attention shifted around the area with haste, a need to find the voice overwhelmed the Jedi as he turned round and round.
Corin was no full Jedi, a learner... a Padawan. He failed to combat the intrusive voices to the fullest extent, their hushed tones entered his mind and afforded him no amount of merciful remarks. His brow furrowed in an effort to resist, and his blade hissed into life and illuminated the area around him. But all he felt was a needless frustration, one he was forbidden from as a Jedi. Peace was their focus, of which Corin found none of now.
You've fallen behind.
You're in second.
He has no use for failures once he has her.
You should've been better.
It was all those voices cried out to him with. Reminders of his status, whether true or false, it mattered little now after those fears had been reinforced. Had his Master intended to set him aside should Jem return to him? He was the second student, the one that seemed so full of failure even in contrast to the one that had fallen to the dark side. Had Kaze ever wanted him as a student, or was Corin there to fill a hole Jem left behind... and should Jem return, what then?
Ran's use of battle meditation soothed him, eased his mind, but those notions were stuck in there no matter what. He could set them aside for now, at least. In answer to Ran, Corin nodded and surveyed the immediate area around them with a sense of clarity now his own demons had left him alone. He hacked and slashed at the vines that rushed towards him, and then turned his attention onto the remaining Nephilim.
Gnost felt exhilarated by the Jedi's defiance. His melody shifted on the breeze and now each nephilim seemed to swell in size. Their perspective of the forest twisted until the surroundings took on truly unsettling proportions. Darkness continued to gather. Trees moved just outside perception cutting off avenues of escape. If she would not let him into their thoughts, he could ensnare other senses.
"Careful," he whispered into Dagon's ear, "If you fall, what chance will they have?"
Both nephilim were drawn away by the Jedi Knight's distraction. Single minded creatures, they moved in time with a disjointed rhythm. Scythes arced toward Dagon attempting to overpower him with brutal strength infused by their dark master's clarion call.
"I can feel your hate," the kel dor slithered outside Ran's mental barrier, "Slaves should know their place."
Turning its head from one to another, the remaining nephilim hesitated.
"The others are strong," Zym lied to Corin, "But you're too weak to even silence my voice. I expected better from a Jedi."
Then it lunged for Ran ignoring the other padawan completely.
”’ If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?’ Whenever the answer has been ‘No’ for too many days in a row, I know that I need to change something. ”- Steve Jobs
” I expected better from a Jedi..”
” Clearly he’s never played ‘Sabbacc’.”
As the stray Cirihut Warriors were in the middle of springing his trap, Vanagor heard what the Sith had said, and he could hear it plain as day. This meant one of two things, he was learning to communicate again, or the big man was closer than he had thought. It had taken the massive Jedi Master to a strategy he was not used to, but capable of, subtlety. Vanagor was normally about as subtle as the boulders he was often compared to.
” 'Semi-Bluff' Aggressively with Your Draws”
Quietly the big guy put his lightsaber away and moved through the forest in the manner of someone on the run from the law. The massive Jedi Master drug his feet while walking through the dirt paths, slowly touching the brush and bushes so as not to leave a trail. The big guy was already clad in black (it was a night op, but because of some ridiculous “Dark Side” notion) the big man relied on the Force, his experience, and his instincts to keep out of sight. When in position, his ambushes would be swift, sudden, and highly effective.
” Fold When You’re Unsure.”
Within the range of the Sith Apprentice as well as the Padawan and let his own mind open up to spread some “Valor” into that of his ally. He did not know anyone in the forest but Kaze, and (unfortunately) Ren, it did not matter though, he would help them if he could. However, that was all he would do at the moment. The big guy did not know where the undead Master of Ren was, and would not risk giving this Padawan’s location for a surprise attack, no, he would secure the area first. Besides, there were more Cirihut Warrior patrols to fight.
” Play Solid Poker Early in Tournaments (Don’t Worry About Survival).”
More surprises and more traps seemed to do the trick, the big guy was no Shadow, I mean just look at him but this “skulking around” in the forest was getting fun. Vanagor did not kill any warrior with that he was afforded the choice. If he could, they were simply knocked out, but he did kill more than his share and quietly. This was a good time to be “Force Dead” in a manner of speaking. True, a Knight like Kaze, or a Master like Noble could feel his level of energy, but that was really it, there was no signature, not even Ren could tell the difference either. The only thing that any of the Sith would be able to sense something going on (hopefully) was any sense or level of obscurity fading.
” Fast-Play Your Strong Hands to Build the Pot and Make More Money.”
While he was making the effort to move quietly and in a controlled manner throughout the forest, Vanagor was moving quickly. His enhanced speed assisted in this, as well as the Force naturally empowering his vision. It was like he had Far-seeing without even having to use it. Things could change in a moment, or he would be slower and definitive in his maneuvers. Luckily those to whom the big man was taking down were not the most “cunning” of opponents.
” Attack When Your Opponent Shows Weakness.”
On the surface this is not a tactic a Jedi would use, after all, it sounds like you are preying on the weak, especially when an opponent is unarmed. However, not capitalizing on openings was a mistake in itself. The Cirihut patrols did not overlap their patterns enough to know when another was being taken down, they were paying for it. The Sith Apprentice, that Caltin was now quietly standing behind was going to pay for his mistake as well…
… one way or the other.
With a nod to Ran Serys
, and @Corin Treynor, he said nothing and showed just how sizeable he was compared to the Kel Dor Apprentice as he waited for Zym to finally turn around.
Though while Kyrel carried nothing but firm and absolute disgust for the Sith, The Sith before him actually seemed intrigued by Kyrel, as if some sort of dark outlier connected to and even against the Sith. Yet he took the time to recognize the undead man’s talents. Ren didn’t show anything that would show he felt the same. His senses running wild, all he could think was the most primal instinct. To hunt down and destroy what he found solace in most. Instead he tried to share his concern with the man behind the whole operation.
His fury only ignited when he heard one name. Valery Noble
. The woman from a long forgotten age, the woman who killed Bendak and made an enemy of the Ren, the woman whom Kyrel had long hunted since first encountering her. His fists clenched and cracks started to form on the very stone he stood upon, reflecting his brute connection to the Force. “Noble! I should have known! You must let me face her, I have my own score to settle with that Jedi witch.” He said firmly expressing his anger, that was until the Sith had mentioned of working together.
Normally he was against the idea of sharing his kill, with his barbaric nature he desired the satisfaction of her death. That was until he started to sense the lot that came with Noble. While he would have loved to kill them all, they were faces he could sense, some of which even strong as he was. His anger softened as he had to recognize this wasn’t a fight he could answer with a hammer mentality.
Kyrel looked up, seeing the frightened faces of the slaves. Here he was again, as flashes came of memories just like this. Kyrel was always the executioner compared to the judge and jury that stood next to him. His gaze staring back to Darth Ptolemis
he started to bring down several slaves setting them down one by one as what he vowed as sacrificial spots.
They were all frightened, whimpering and crying. Adding more fear to the fire of the dark side. Kyrel was often intoxicated by such copious amounts of fear. His crimson saber activated, and with one slash he decapitated the first victim. “Sounds like old times.” He smugly said to the Sith as he started the steps for the ritual.
Valery Noble
Dhalinar Greystar
Caltin Vanagor
Iris Arani
Qzekov
Darien Kovahn
Kyrel Ren
Darth Ptolemis
