Faction Reclamation - The Scouring of Korriban (Sith Order)

[Darth Valor]

Darth Valor, a harbinger of the dark side, stood amidst the shadows of Korriban, the ancient tomb-world that had suffered under the influence of the Ashlan Remnants for far too long. The Dark Lord Carnifex's declaration of Revitalization had set in motion a series of events aimed at reclaiming and reshaping the Sith's holy worlds.

With an unwavering gaze, Darth Valor embraced the mission laid before him. The echoes of the past whispered through the wind-swept valleys, urging him to fulfill the Dark Lord's decree. Korriban, once desecrated by the false light, would be purged and reborn in the image of the Sith.

I. Scour the World

Darth Valor embraced the Dark Lord's command to its fullest. Korriban would be purged of the remnants of the Ashlans' influence, their treacherous edifices reduced to rubble and their defilement erased. The red sands of the world would be stained with the blood of those who dared defy the Sith, allowing a new age to take root.

II. Multiply and Replenish

The diaspora that had scattered Korriban's pre-Ashlan population must be reversed. The displaced would be brought back to their rightful home, and the cities left neglected and in ruin, like Dreshdae, would be revitalized. As an agent of the dark side, Darth Valor would oversee the reconstruction efforts, ensuring the distribution of land and estates to those who had been driven away, allowing them to reclaim their rightful place.

III. Dash Them Against The Stones

The wild wastes of Korriban still harbored remnants of the Ashlan Crusaders, hiding in caves and canyons, clinging to their heretical beliefs. Darth Valor's wrath would be unleashed upon them, as he sought to exterminate their presence once and for all. No mercy would be shown, for the dark side demanded their eradication.

IV. Forge Your Own Path

Amidst the sacred grounds of Korriban, Darth Valor knew there was much to be done. With the Dark Lord's blessing, he would explore the world, seeking his own path to further the cause of the Sith. The whispers of the ancient tombs would guide him, offering untold secrets and opportunities for power.

 

[Zal Aditi]

• Korriban
• Ashlan Sith Temple — Kor Naskor
• Objective III — Dash Them Against The Stones
• Tags — Darth Nwul | Elmindra Xitaar | Kyraj | Darth Caedes

As Zal dove into the darkness in pursuit of her quarry, she felt the energy of the room shift. She slowed her step, opening her awareness to her surroundings. Rajakzânkut stilled in their work, drawing back from the last few straggling survivors, and for a moment the tomb seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.

Then, with a shuffling creak, the dead began to rise.

Zal breathed in the wave of dark power that swept over the room as Darth Caedes' sorcery was unleashed. Around her, carved in stone, ancient Sith guardians watched in sinister satisfaction.

"This is sufficient for my purposes, Apprentice," he said, the dead nearest Zal echoing his words with their own, dried voices."The Ashlans above were prepared to face warriors in combat, but they will never stand a chance against this. Let your family sate itself without restraint. The feast is upon us..."

She released her breath, a flame of menace sparking in her bright eyes. Finally.

She strode forward with a renewed sense of purpose, letting her eagerness flow out to the Tuk'ata through their telepathic bond. Slowly her step quickened, until she as once again dashing forward. She could feel them around her, flowing alongside, a torrent of vicious doom sweeping through the tunnels.

As she reached the stone bridge that arched over the chasm, one of the beasts leapt down from the walls in front of her, all fierce grace and bloodlust. Without breaking stride she leapt onto the great creature, gripping its spines and pressing close to its back as it sprung from the stone bridge and back into the shadows and the narrow stone ledges that lined the walls. She closed her eyes, and opened dozens more.

The pack made their move in one of the ancient sacrificial chambers, as was appropriate. She could taste the fear of the fleeing Ashlans as the creatures revealed themselves, glowing red eyes in the darkness, behind, above, and beside their prey. Bright lightsabers snapped to life in the crowd, flaring blue and green, waving uncertainly from one target to the next as their wielders pressed the non-jedi back behind them.

For a moment all was still. Then with a cry, one of the jedi unleashed their lightsaber, sending it spinning through the darkness towards one of the pairs of glowing red eyes. Though the shadows obscured the vision of their prey, the Tuk'ata had no such disadvantage, and the blade's target moved aside. Still, the Jedi was more skilled than Zal had expected, and she felt the flare of searing pain against the beast's shoulder as the blade struck a glancing blow. She snarled, and the onslaught was unleashed.

The Tuk'ata attacked in pairs, coordinated and cunning. Zal's mount deposited her on a high ledge overlooking the fray, brushing its body against her outstretched palm once before leaping to join the carnage. She crouched from her vantage point, keen eyes observing the battle as she drank in the sensations. Tooth and claw ripped through fragile flesh. Despair, agony, and terror wafted up from the victims, absorbed into the stones of the temple. Defiance, too, and determination - some of the jedi still stood steadfast, even in the face of their doom. The beasts moved like living shadows, the blackness of their hides seeming to absorb the feeble glow of the lightsabers. She kept her attention to those battles, watching for Jedi trickery.

One of the Jedi threw out a hand and she felt his target's limbs stiffen, movement slowing just as the Tuk'ata began to pounce. He swept in, closing the distance, the glowing blue blade snapping leisurely forward to take advantage of the opening. Zal sneered in defiance, sending a surge of power to the beast. Dark energy suffused its muscles, and the slow effect was broken. Before the blade could hit home, a massive paw lashed out, raking the jedi across the stomach and batting him to the floor. She felt the brief flare of shock from the jedi at the failed force effect, shock that created a moment of clumsiness as he tried to raise his saber in time to block the massive beast that leapt upon him. Too late. The great maw closed around the jedi's head, muffling a short-lived scream before the skull was entirely crushed.

Zal smiled. There was no posturing here, no mind games or sanctimonious speeches. The dignity and poise the jedi held in their duels against other warriors was worthless in the face of pure, unhinged savagery. It was fascinating, too, how quickly the jedi dropped any pretense of restraint or qualms about violence when facing something they saw as less than them. They looked upon the Tuk'ata as monsters, mindless creatures fit only for slaughter. Zal wondered if they could see the intelligence in the red eyes, if they had any inkling of the sentience of the monstrosities they faced. If the coordination of the attacks was put down to mere predatory instinct.

But these beasts were as old as the tombs of Korriban, and had been their guardians for centuries upon centuries. Their minds were interconnected, and they spoke the Old Tongue. They served the Sith, and they were Sith. In this moment of rending flesh and merciless bloodlust, the Tuk'ata were one with the will of the ancients, and Zal was one with them.

 

[Darth Nwul]

• Korriban
• Ashlan Sith Temple — Kor Naskor
• Objective III — Dash Them Against The Stones
• Tags — Zal Aditi | Elmindra Xitaar | Kyraj | Darth Caedes

And so Wake Nayne did marvel at the wrath of the dark side.

He watched as each corpse rose to its feet, the plague of undeath spreading throughout the halls and catacombs. He wondered if there would be some who would call this a mockery of life, an abomination. Like the tuk'ata that prowled the halls, twisted by the ancient sith that created their lineage. The twins shuddered on either side of him, Darya was afraid, Yjome lusted for power. He drank in their emotions and let out a heady sigh, is lips parting in a cruel smile. "Your feelings tug at your minds," He said coldly, glancing over his shoulder, for a moment Darya swore his head twisted at an impossible angle. "They belong to you, do not let them rule you."

They glanced at one another, he saw through them and the fear grew deeper. Fear and desire, excitement, eagerness. Perhaps they could learn these powers. His lips twisted with mirth as he returned to watching the dead walk, true sith sorcery. Something he could only dream of now. But this was a taste, so he watched and witnessed the flow of the force. He felt the cold chill in his abdomen, the force wound that leaked purity into his body, shudder with an incomprehensible delight. Unknowable. Like an elder being peering out from inside of his waist.

The dark side gathered and the air became colder. Malice, deep emotion, misery, pain, triumph, the cascading emotions drew the will of Korriban to that place beneath the ground. The nexus of the dark side that was the Gates of Graush amplifying the event even more. It was so palpable that when Wake drew in a bit of its power, one could have sworn they saw a cloud of darkness rise into his mouth and nostrils. He held out his hands and felt it wash over him, this was more than he had ever imagined. He let his emotions free, all of his pain, his joy, his wonder, his rage.

Wake Nayne let the Dark Side take over for the first time. The dozens of threads that lurked behind his eyes, the memories of the many-dead. The thoughts and crossroads of feelings. They all drew down to a singular point. Someone--Else.

"Let us pray." The strangeness murmured. The specters of the sith that he had consumed, they knew the language. Maddening whispers began to spread through the hall, voices, laughter, weeping, screams. They seemed to cling to the unearthly horde, eldritch cloaks of madness that clutched at the bodies of the damned and insane but found no purchase. It moved, finding the living ashlan that continued to flee into the darkness. The words came from nowhere and everywhere as Wake spoke them. He wasn't sure if it was the specters that he had consumed, the will of this dark subterranean citadel, or something much...much darker.

"Tsatul nu Saarai," Wake breathed hoarsely.

"Saarai-kaar, taral nu bogan, taral nu tsis!" Wake opened his arms and let his head fall back.
"Skurioksh! Kinktik hask grotthu, nun ajak, nun chwayat, nun itsu, wonjontu ko," He growled, a gutteral sound rumbling at the pit of his throat as he uttered the final words.

For a moment, silence, Wake's eyes and sanity returned to him. He dropped to a knee, the collected power having left his body. He glanced back at the twins who watched him in a mixture of awe, fear, and revulsion. He wiped the saliva off his lips, he had been present but not, another person, another identity. It was not a ghost, but an amalgam of thoughts guided by his will. He wanted to be there again already, to be so in control, all the knowledge all at once. A prescience of being.

He got to his feet in time to hear a shriek of pain down the hall and stepped out. Fighting had broken out amongst the surviving Ashlan in the catacombs within his vicinity. Violence begat violence as one Ashlan struck another, who's eyes twisted from fear to rage and lashed out at an uninfected kin. Some of them curled into balls and howled in terror as the madness was spread to them. One single host grew to twelve, to twenty. An explosion of insanity.

Wake walked out into the hallway, the various data storage tools of mundane knowledge floating behind him or being carried by the twins. In his hands was a small holocron from the hidden room and in his mind, a map of the Gates of Graush. He did not even look back as one Ashlan Jedi grabbed the throat of a woman and strangled her not fifty feet behind him. He didn't blink as a child saw black specters dripping from the ceiling and shrieked. He smiled contentedly to himself as he made his way down the hall to the main space and strode towards Caedes.

He stood before the aged sith, the twins flanking him, and extended his offering to Darth Caedes.

"Make me Sith," Was all he asked.

 

[Maerae Verdan]

If this place had a backup generator, it was most certainly not being used. The air was near freezing, though Maerae figured that was the Dark Side making itself present. But it was also dark, and that almost certainly had nothing to do with the Force. Flashlights were the only thing that lit the way, and that itself wasn't really enough. It was only through that intuitive sixth sense that all Sensitives had that kept Maerae from stumbling.

When they reached the bottom of the well, Darth Strosius' Legionnaires spread out to sweep the area. They were certainly a well-trained and professional group, she noted. Perhaps their dedication came from their faith in Strosius himself, a faith that was rewarded by the Sith Knight's atypical consideration for his men.

Once she had thought his care for his soldiers misplaced. Now she understood better: it was these men and women that made up the Order, far more than the Sith did. To secure their loyalty was to secure power.

"Your help is appreciated," Maerae's eyes scanned the datapad shown to her, "but do not divert any manpower from your objective to aid me. This task is mine alone."

Though Strosius clearly sought the archives, in this moment, getting the generator running was more important than anything. Without it, the building would fall back into Ashlan hands, and her Master would be denied. She would not let that come to pass, and certainly not because she diverted his men from their appointed task just to safeguard her own life.

She was Sith. If she needed protection, then she was not worthy of her title, as low as it was.

Maerae started down the dark hall, knowing the odds were stacked against her in this endeavor. But it mattered not. Darth Strosius had commanded that this Jedi fall, and so they would, or Maerae would die. For the chance to be called his Apprentice, it was worth risking her life.

---

Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Multiply and Replenish
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Maerae Verdan

​

The dark halls that comprised the capitol building were an odd mixture of ancient construction and modern convenience. Much like the rest of the structure, grand architecture of Sith style made up most of the lower levels. Stone, ancient metal, and other such old materials mixed into a show of ancient foundations being expanded upon and repaired over time. In addition to these old buildings though there were clearly more modern ones, with metal untarnished by time and panels linked by barely concealed wiring along the walls.

Yet despite the strange amalgamations of time and reconstruction the overall grandeur of even these lowest and most hidden areas were not lost. The Acolyte would pass by a plethora of rooms on her journey towards the archive, their full extents and possessions barely visible in the oppressive darkness that filled them.

Ancient altars, many of which had been destroyed or desecrated by Ashlan iconography, that sat in what must have been sacrificial rooms in the past, simple storage rooms filled with crates of unknown age and contents, wide open areas probably meant to be training arenas in one form or another, and many other such spaces whose purposes could only be guessed at in the darkness. However none of these rooms were what she sought, and indeed the datapad's map directed her ever forward past the distractions and ruins.

Finally the far end of the hall would come into view, where a pair of stone doors that stood sentinel and blocked off the rest of the hall. Or they would have, had one of them not been pushed open by what appeared to be the detonation of some sort of explosive some time ago. Said explosion hadn't damaged the door itself all that much but it had left a rather noticeable scorch mark and pock amid the otherwise ornate and decorated door.

Beyond the door lay rows and rows of computers, databanks, even cabinets and shelves for physical records, all making up quite the diverse archive even with no power to reveal what the databanks and computers contained. At the far end of the room was a series of holoprojectors and terminals that would display such information in a variety of forms, there even several large screens that took up most of the back wall there.

And sitting in the center of the room amidst the stores of information was a robed figure, sat in meditation and seemingly defiant of the chill and dark that surrounded them. "So, you've finally returned." The figure stood without turning to look back at the door, drawing their lightsaber from their robes and igniting a yellow blade. "But have you come to destroy or to rebuild?"

 

[Quintessa]

Location: Valley of the Dark Lords - Korriban
Objective: I. Scour the World
Dialogue Legend: <<Ghoul-Speak>> │ “Galactic Basic” │ <”ur-Kittât”>
Tags: Darth Carnifex Lirka Ka

They'd thought to mask their presence by hiding behind those that already lay dead upon the red sand, lying in wait for those who would next trespass through their crumbling dominion.

A cheap trick.

Quintessa hissed as Ashlans sprang their trap, leaping up from their various hiding spots within the valley before setting themselves upon the landing party and chief among them, the Eternal Father. Fortunately, with the dust kicked up from the speedster’s run upon landing still clouding much of the area, the ambushers' view to the Chosen was partially obscured. Taking advantage of it, Quintessa sprinted her way through the dust, using it to obscure her position until she slid to a stop at the rear of the Ashlans. Without warning, the chakrams flew free from the speedster’s hands, with the first thrown in a sharp arc before decapitating a quartet of Grenadiers and the second heaved in a direct throw that bisected a lightsaber-wielding Crusader Padawan across the abdomen.

Immediately, Quintessa called her chakrams back, before catching them and heaving one, then the other towards another group of Grenadiers who had taken position along the edges of the valley, so as to bombard the landing party from range. Their approach was preceded by only soft whistle in the air before tearing through the ranks of the infantry, decapitating, bisecting, and dismembering soldiers with ruthless violence and precision, leaving ten mangled bodies in their wake.

With the soldiers on the edges of the valley now slain, Quintessa accelerated in a dazzling blur to catch her chakrams, before heaving them towards the main ranks of the charging Ashlans, picking a Zygerrian Crusader Padawan to target out of the group. Sensing the incoming attack, the Padawan spun around and managed to block one, but the second came right after to slash through the lower half of his forehead, causing the upper half to slide off as an empty, dead glaze came over his eyes.

Then, by simple instinct, Quintessa shifted her wild, focused gaze back towards her Father as He shouted her name.

<“With pleasure, Father!”> Quintessa growled in response, before unleashing a savage cry as she heaved her chakrams towards a pair of Crusader Padawans whose Master had been left suffocating on the ground after her chest was pushed in by the Dark Lord’s gauntlet-clad fist. They had a burst of courage as the dying woman imparted the last reserves of her strength upon them, only for the pink-haired speedster to arrive at their rear, her chakrams flying ahead before striking the two Padawans down in gruesome fashion, slashing their bodies in twain so that their torsos were traumatically severed from their legs.

<“I am here, Nyâsh'nyâsh’ari.”> The tiny speedster giggled playfully as she appeared at the Dark Lord’s side, dust flying in her wake. <”I will have to keep some of them alive for sacrifices! It will be so much fun to perform my Trianii routine at their pyres!”> She added.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Pulsiva Bodysuit
  
  • Gauntlets
    
    • FAE/M-02 Energized Gauntlet Vibroblade (2) - L/R
  • Sith Talisman
    
    • Spirit Anchor
    • Amulet of Many
    • Jin'Wodasir (2)
  • Utility
    
    • Supernal Infusion
    • FAE/U-01 “Serenity” Anti-Signal Field System
    • Poison Reservoirs
• Dancer’s Wheels
• Quintessa’s Twin Lightsaber Shotos
• Krath Council Stiletto

 

[Maerae Verdan]

It was clear that many different rooms could be found here in the lower levels of the capitol building. Most of them would probably interest Darth Strosius, and she herself would probably have gotten lost in the labyrinthian nature of the place if not for the directions she'd been given. But exploration held little interest for her. All she was focused on was reaching the archives.

The Ashlan would most certainly be awaiting her there, probably meditating instead of actually doing anything about the warzone up above. What devout defenders the Jedi were.

As she passed through the large stone door, an ominous structure to be sure, she found herself standing in an expansive room. It was far larger than she had imagined it would be, but that wasn't what held her focus at the moment. No, that would be the robed figure who seemed unperturbed by the Dark Side presence that filled Korriban.

True to form, they actually were meditating.

Maerae took a quick glance around the room, spotting the various desks, terminals, cabinets, and other furniture. Without power, the room was still mostly dark, and all the clutter would serve her well in hiding her presence from this Jedi. She was, after all, armed with only a vibrosword. She could not face an opponent with a lightsaber in a proper duel.

It dawned on her that that was probably part of Darth Strosius' test. He knew she was a capable warrior, but more importantly, he knew that she struggled with subtlety. This was a test to see if she could prevail in spite of her shortcomings. To see if she was capable of learning in order to correct her flaws.

If she wanted to become his Apprentice, if she wanted to survive, she would have to employ stealth and trickery.

The Crusader stood, back still to her, and ignited his lightsaber. In typical Jedi fashion, he asked her what was ultimately a pointless question. Whether she destroyed or rebuilt wouldn't matter once he was dead. She was tempted to answer him right then and there, but she held off for a few moments so that she could creep away from the door and tuck herself behind a tall shelf.

"You have left much destruction in your wake," Maerae let her voice ring out, knowing it would guide him to her corner of the room, but hopefully not her exact location, "I have seen how you've left our monuments: destroyed or defiled. Who are you to judge me, Jedi?"

---

Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Multiply and Replenish
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Maerae Verdan

​

Surprisingly the Jedi did indeed wait for a response from the Acolyte, his muscles tensed and ready to spring into action at a moment's notice yet his demeanor relaxed and patient. Like a trap waiting for its prey to wander into its waiting jaws. "Are the Sith not the same?" His head cocked back to the corner where her voice came from, shifting to face it as he grasped his lightsaber with both hands.

"You will rebuild this world as it has been rebuilt many times over, just to use it as a weapon once more." The robed Crusader began to stalk forward towards the corner, his blade at the ready and his steps measured to give him a guarded and steady stance despite being in motion. The lack of light was twofold here, blinding him in both vision and senses within the Force.

Maerae was smart to use it to her advantage but such a cover would not last forever and would do little against the swing of his blade.

"Perhaps you are no better as a defiler, bringing war and death to a world that has already seen so much of both. Yet you cannot let it have peace. You will not let it rest and be forgotten as all tragedies eventually do. Is this not a defilement?" Whether the Jedi was actually attempting to sway the Acolyte or was simply waffling on to try and draw some reaction from the young Sith was unclear.

Regardless the Jedi was no less ready and prepared for the eventual attack from the Acolyte as he searched through the dark shelves and carefully strode down the narrow halls that were made between the shelving and storages of the archive. He was alert despite the darkness and his lacking sense in the Force simply meant that he focused instead on heightening his normal ones as best as he could.

 

[Maerae Verdan]

​

Maerae pulled her cloak over her head, doing her best to blend in with the darkness as the Jedi prattled on. She wanted to address his words, tell him that Korriban belonged to the Sith, and that it was theirs to do with as they wished. But she dare not answer him now that he was growing near to her position. The advantage of stealth was one that would be lost if she chose to act rashly, and it was her only chance at survival.

She crept further along the edge of the room, ducking behind tables, desked, and shelves alike. She had spent her youth in the alleys of Nar Shaddaa, stealing to survive. Maerae knew how to walk so that she wouldn't make a sound, knew how to cling to the shadows so that they would cling to her, but they were relics of a past life that she had long discarded. They were tools she'd forgotten; tools that had fallen into disuse.

She tried her best to remember them on the fly.

All the while, she saw flashes and glimpses of the yellow light emanating from the Jedi's lightsaber. He was growing ever closer to her, and she was running out of time. Against a lightsaber she had nothing. Her strength in the Force, perhaps, but that meant nothing if she was within range of the blade. She had to strike now, and it had to be decisive: lethal, or severe enough to inhibit the Jedi's ability to fight.

She padded down a long aisle of shelves, waiting, until she saw yellow light passing through the gaps between cabinets. The Jedi was just on the other side of her cover.

One chance. Failing meant certain death.

With her vibroblade in her hands, she matched the pace of the yellow light as it traveled down the aisle, it's wielder unaware that all that stood between him and her was a few inches of wood. And then, when the light came to a halt, she shoved her blade through the wood, intending to skewer the man on the other side.

---

Tags: Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Multiply and Replenish
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Maerae Verdan

​

The Jedi's search had been seemingly fruitless thus far, the Acolyte seeming to stay one step ahead of him as he wandered through the dark shelves. Korriban had not been kind to the Ashlans during their time there and it most certainly wasn't being any more lenient now. He had to worry about the Sith and the planet itself working against him.

His head snapped to the side as he heard wood splintering, just barely having enough time to move forward so that the vibroblade didn't outright gut him straight through. Unfortunately he had not been quick enough to avoid the strike entirely, as a glance down at the searing pain in his side revealed that the blade had been stabbed deep into his side. It wasn't enough to kill him but he could already tell that his combat ability was heavily hindered by the grisly wound.

With a pained grunt he slammed his shoulder against the shelf to try and throw his attacker back a bit, using the movement to bring his lightsaber around and stab through the shelf himself. The Jedi managed to rip himself free of the vibroblade but not without further injury to his side which lead to him having to quickly move out of the shelves and back into the relatively open area at the center of the room.

He stumbled into the open and clutched his side with his free hand as he turned to face the shelves with his lightsaber at the ready in front of him. He was wounded but he refused to give into his wounds so easily. The Crusader steadied his uneasy footing and breathed through clenched teeth, the noise resembling more of a hiss due to the blood staining his robes. "Come and face me Sith! If you wish to add another corpse to this graveworld then I shall make it your own!"

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Let us show them the true power of the Dark Side."

Lightning began to spark and dance across and around the Dark Lord's body, scarlet crackling angrily as the dust in the air grew still as it fell. He then began to move, the lightning following in His wake, before He thrust out one hand towards the nearest foe. Lightning burst forth, snaking through the air before slamming into the Ashlan through their chest, eyes, and mouth. They died almost instantaneously, burned from the inside out. But the lightning did not stop there, it bounced from one foe to another, creating a path of death all along the way towards the Sith temple.

Carnifex rushed forward after it, cutting down many of those either untouched by the lightning or those yet clinging to life. Some He left behind, for either Quintessa to kill or for the others following to apprehend. Blessed Quintessa was correct, they would need some alive for the pyre, to consecrate the temple once it had fallen back into their hands. For the first time in many years, Korriban would drink in the cries of Jedi as they burned alive and their ashes filled the darkened sky.

He reached the stairs leading up to the courtyard bordering the temple's entryway, which He scaled quickly in a few steps. Ashlans were waiting for Him there as well, but they were no match for the Dark Lord of the Sith. Their power and skill had vastly waned since their coming to this world, the Dark Lord had seen to it. Long had He planned for this grand return, and the vengeance He would take on all who had helped facilitate their withdrawal prior.

So many would burn for what they did.

"Come, Blessed Quintessa, the temple lays open to us. We will scour it clean."

Quintessa ​

 

[Quintessa]

Location: Valley of the Dark Lords - Korriban
Objective: I. Scour the World
Dialogue Legend: <<Ghoul-Speak>> │ “Galactic Basic” │ <”ur-Kittât”>
Tags: Darth Carnifex Lirka Ka

It was a massacre.

Crimson lightning danced in Quintessa’s wide-eyed gaze as she beheld the storm of scarlet galvanism wrought by the Dark Lord, searing, burning, and electrifying the hapless Crusaders in its path. The smell of burning ozone was thick in the air, compelling the tiny speedster to draw in a deep, invigorating breath, stimulating her thirst for Ashlan blood. Wasting not a moment more, she took off in a dizzying blur of movement, heaving her chakrams into the Ashlans as their ranks began to collapse. Mirroring the scarlet Lightning of the Dark Lord as it jumped from one target to another, Quintessa’s chakrams cut down soldiers in swathes. Setting her sights on a squad of Marines, one of the speedster’s chakrams tore through their ranks, cutting down six soldiers in an arc and leaving a row of decapitated bodies in its wake. Her other chakram followed only moments after, tearing through the four remaining soldiers before they could raise their weapons against her. Calling the chakrams back into her grasp, Quintessa immediately hurled them towards another Marine squad, tossing them in a winding arc which then circled back to strike the soldiers at their flanks.

From there, the death and destruction wrought upon the squad was nothing short of devastating.

Having baited the Marines into focusing on her, rather than her chakrams, the speedster’s weapons slashed, ripped, and whipped through their ranks, decapitating, dismembering, and destroying where they passed. One chakram tore through the necks of four soldiers, decapitating each of them in sequence before taking off the left leg of one and the right leg of another. The other severed the upper half of a skull, cutting it open like a cake before taking off an arm, a leg, and a foot, each belonging to different soldiers respectively. Following in their wake, Quintessa finished off a couple Marines with her gauntlet vibroblades, though she left others to bleed out and suffer, until they inevitably died.

In the meantime, their pain would serve as a perfect capacitor to supercharge the dark side power flowing within her core.

Soon, they arrived at the stairs leading into the courtyard of the temple. Within, Quintessa felt the presence of the remaining Ashlans, their fear thick in the roiling currents of the dark side.

<”I am here, Father!”> Quintessa growled as she wiped a cloth over the blades of her chakrams, cleaning off the blood, before tossing it aside. <”Let us Eclipse this corruption and resanctify Korriban in the dark side.”>

Spoiler: Loadout

• Pulsiva Bodysuit
  
  • Gauntlets
    
    • FAE/M-02 Energized Gauntlet Vibroblade (2) - L/R
  • Sith Talisman
    
    • Spirit Anchor
    • Amulet of Many
    • Jin'Wodasir (2)
  • Utility
    
    • Supernal Infusion
    • FAE/U-01 “Serenity” Anti-Signal Field System
    • Poison Reservoirs
• Dancer’s Wheels
• Quintessa’s Twin Lightsaber Shotos
• Krath Council Stiletto

 

[Primarion Hiperius]

III. Dash Them Against The Stones
​

Even though they were coming in late as reinforcements, they came. Not that the Sith forces would direly need them, but the Imperator still made sure to show his true allegiance, he had to prove to the Sith that he was one of them, that he would execute whatever order was given and show no hesitation.

The Ashlans, in their fanatic zealotry of narrow-mindedness, had actually believed they could turn Korriban and the other Sith Worlds to their ridiculous beliefs and views. To settle and eradicate the history these worlds had. To install their realm of light and purity. What a brainless and uninspired attempt at taking out their enemies home. Just raze the previous houses and build new ones on top - it would do. The only thing more pathetic than Force users were Force religions. There is no place for them in the Galaxy, doesn't matter what little piece of faith or shard of truth they thought to have found. It was never going to work.

And so, the First Century of the First Cohort of the First Praetorian Legion descended onto the world. No Skytroopers. There was no place for them here, it was a show of force, a show of devotion, a statement of purpose. A declaration of determination. And eighty gold-plated brothers of Primarion with he himself at their lead would be there to offer it. While absolutely cold and emotionless about it, he understood the value of propaganda and therefore had turned his helmet cam to a live-feed to the Sith fleet and Order.

They were at the end of a canyon, one which they new was being entered by at least a battalion of Sith soldiers and some Sith because a strong unit of Ashlan resistance was reported within alongside a large amount of refugees who were moving towards the Praetorians. Scans and early reports of their Sith allies indicated that there were at least several hundred fighters and possibly the same if not more number of civilians who were slowly coming towards them.

The irony of this was, the Ashlans had fought with their Hegemon prior to this. On Zygerria and elsewhere. They knew the armours. And Primarion knew that they did. He counted on it. Afterall his troops were not brought here by gunships alone, but by some fleet tenders which were standing in view range, a potential escape craft for the refugees and Ashlans. Or so it should seem.

His unit spread out, forming a crescent on the minor slope of hill they were standing on, about three hundred meters to the exit of the canyon. They were standing like guardians, their voulges in their hands, their red capes and tabards flying in the freezing wind. They were flawless, unmoved and polished, like heroes of a mythical tale from a place where peace was brought by titanic defenders of virtue and moral.

They would be proven quite wrong.
​

 

[Maerae Verdan]

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From the vibration that passed through the blade as it struck flesh, and the sound the Jedi made, Maerae knew her strike hadn't been lethal. That wasn't surprising: luck had never been on her side, and the Ashlan likely possessed precognition like most Force wielders did. But the pained groan he let out was enough for Maerae to know she had greatly hindered him.

That was a start: it tipped the battle more in her favor.

The shelf she'd stabbed through creaked, and a tremor in the Force had Maerae leaping back as it fell toward her. A yellow blade pierced the wood, stabbing through the air where she'd stood only a moment ago, and the shelf finally crashed into the ground in a spray of splinters.

Maerae didn't stay to get a good look at the Crusader. He still had a lightsaber, and she only a mere vibrosword. So she pulled the Force into a tight grip, and backflipped over the cabinet behind her. She stepped back into the shadows once more, padding away from the Jedi, so as to come at him from another angle: no matter what his wounds, in this battle, stealth was her only path to victory.

The Ashlan spoke, rage clear in his voice, and Maerae decided to taunt him once she was far enough that he probably wouldn't be able to pinpoint her location.

"Careful," she chided mockingly, "anger and aggression are not the Jedi way. Such things are of the Dark Side."

---

Tags: Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Multiply and Replenish
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Maerae Verdan

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The taunt did little but make his gaze snap towards the darkness that the Acolyte hid within, breathing out a frustrated sigh through gritted teeth as he kept pressure on the wound in his side. The Crusader tightened his grip on his lightsaber as his stance grew a bit more steady and secure. Evidently she wasn't going to rush at him now, clever on her part, but he couldn't go after her. Navigating the dark shelves of the archive with a bleeding wound would do little but get himself killed.

So he'd have to hold and wait for her to make her move against him.

"You would say that. Ignorant Sith. Mere anger and frustration are not the claim of the Dark Side, not when wielded against your foul kind." He called out to the darkness around him, idly turning to check for signs of movement as he shifted his stance to face a different direction. "You are blinded by your overlords to think as such. The Dark Side has such little claim on you and yet you seek to embrace it so quickly."

The Jedi fought back a cough, covering his mouth with his hand and pulling it back to see a spatter of blood adorning it. "A shame, and one that will lead to your demise. Whether at my hand or at the hands of one of your fellow Sith traitors." He spun around again and kept his blade held in front of himself protectively.

"Can you not see the path of destruction laid out before you? One that has claimed so many others already? Do you not wish for life and happiness instead of this oppressive anger and cruelty?"

 

[Maerae Verdan]

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The Jedi stood his ground, thinking it would give him the advantage. But all it did was give Maerae more room to maneuver. The shadows in this unpowered building were long and dark, and so she stuck to them. She could not wait forever, though. Darth Strosius' troopers were sure to restart the power in a few minutes. She had to be done here, before they did, or else her chance to slay this crusader would be lost.

"I find it ironic, truly, that you would lecture me on the oppression of anger, while you yourself are so blinded by rage," Maerae was almost beginning to enjoy taunting this Jedi, "aren't your kind supposed to be above temper tantrums? Aren't you supposed to be enlightened?"

She was silent for a moment, circling the Jedi in the cover of darkness, so that she was standing in different spot from where the Ashlan would have heard her voice. Her eyes scanned the shadowed surroundings, and found a durasteel and plasteel chair near a desk. Maerae waited until the crusader opened his mouth to respond, then lifted the chair telekinetically, and threw it at him to interrupt whatever rant he was going on this time.

"In fact," she only spoke after the Jedi had dealt with her telekinetic attack, "even more ironic is that I seem to be the only one in this room who isn't driven by fury. For all your claims that I embrace the Dark Side, it is you, in this moment, who is closest to calling upon it."

That was likely untrue, but such a statement would anger the man, and whatever rage the Jedi worked himself into would bring her great amusement. More importantly, though, it would make him unstable, and prone to making mistakes.

---

Tags: Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: Multiply and Replenish
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Maerae Verdan

​

He could almost hear the Acolyte moving around the shelves in the darkness, his gaze snapping to wherever he thought he heard movement from. Of course it could have just as easily been the Dark Side playing tricks on him to hide its servant, but he knew better than to ignore anything that could prove crucial in their duel. One missed noise could be a death sentence. "Your childish remarks will do little to win you the day, Sith. Don't waste your breath on them, not when-"

A chair suddenly flew at him from somewhere off to his right, barely able to catch the motion out of the corner of his eye. The Crusader shifted and cleaved the chair in half without any issue but the sudden movement caused a grunt of pain as his wound made itself known once more. He looked down and winced as he saw how much red was staining his robes now, the swift movements only exacerbating the blood loss.

"I call upon nothing but for you to reveal yourself and face me!" His words were spoken through clenched teeth, clenched to try and stifle another groan as he pressed a hand to the wound to try and keep up the pressure. At this rate he would bleed out before he even had a chance to strike at the Sith again. Or, so he would have, had the lights not come back on.

With a shudder the power in the room was ignited once more, lights illuminating the dark shelves and causing the dormant archives to come online again. The Jedi spotted Maerae amongst the shelves and threw his hand out with a barely muffled grunt, sending a wave through the Force to throw her back and send the desk crashing into her.