OBJECTIVE: 1 [Belly of the Beast]
LOCATION: Humbarine City [Belltower Destroyed - Ground Level]
SITH ALLIES:
Mercy
SITH ENEMIES: Imperial Scum/Faithless - Iron Covenant?
Siv Dragr
|
Sahan Dragr
Her body still
burned from the effects of the White Noise.
It wasn’t in any specific location that she could easily point to…But the machine was performing exactly as designed.
Darth Empyrean
was going to get an earful about whom he sold his technology to when she returned to Jutrand, but the rage of a wife, would need to wait until this battle was through. Despite her familiarity with the
ND-013, despite her armor, the nanites, and Mercy’s blood raging through her system there was something profoundly unpleasant about passively feeling portions of herself go dark only to be dragged back from the brink.
For the moment…It could only be endured.
The hatred that she demanded was not some fleeting and ephemeral sentiment. She wanted the blackness of his heart, the toxic cruelty that blinded, because the negative energy fed her just as easily as drawing power with her curse. It became cyclical for as much as she exuded…He returned it to her tenfold. Hawkish eyes, cold and nightmarish, remained on his visor as her body decayed…He could not see her mouth because of the rebreather, but it would be there anyway, a phantom smile that had a few too many teeth with a tone that was too deep for the woman speaking.
“I’m counting on it.”
Sronias helped to keep the arm of the Mandalorian trapped within her control as absolute chaos continued to unfurl around them. Above, the other beskar-clad man circled through the elements and crimson lighting while the city below steadily devoured itself. Somewhere in the distance artillery flashed through the haze, somewhere else, explosions littered Humbarine so frequently that the ground never stopped vibrating beneath their feet. The destruction of the city-planet had become one long, endless scream, that stretched across the horizon.
Her teeth ground together and she pushed back with the Mandalorian when she felt
Mercy
move closer. The ice and cold the ring created continued to try and creep along beskar to hinder movement. To keep him from being able to aim, fire at her, but it wasn’t quite swift enough. Thankfully the giantess had a habit of resolving issues with overwhelming force and it was that response the Echani was counting on. Srina felt the impact before she saw it and the pale warrior abruptly released the Mandalorian on instinct.
One did not hold on to something that was exploding.
As a storm of flame and concussive force came at her the
shielding in her armor came online. Everything happened in the span of a heartbeat but time itself seemed to wind down, slow, and she could feel the anger of the Core Empress echoing in her veins. There was momentary reprieve from the agony of the White Noise…But almost in mockery:
The disruptor fired.
Srina knew the weapon was there and her hand raised to try and halt the energy discharge but the shot was point blank. The effects of the White Noise were still too fresh. It carved the space between them as the Mandalorian was hurled away. It was only by chance, accident, that it didn’t go off aimed at her head and instead nailed center mass where layered defenses reacted with almost frantic speed. There was a flash of light when the first shield collapsed, but the second, held out longer while the energy was absorbed and redistributed—But it didn’t stop her from blowing backward.
Her body hit the ground, skidding, while her gloved hand clawed into the dirt and the other held her side. There was a patch over her ribs where nanite armor had been blown away in a spray of molten fragments just before the beam lost enough cohesion to dissipate. There was a burn on pristine white skin that was black and gnarled, something that would have dropped most people where they stood. The Blackwall Empress merely rested one knee, eyes on the sky, while
Sahan Dragr
went to aid the other one. Her breathing was harsh, chest rising and falling rapidly, but all around her the Dark Side continued to strengthen. The raging elemental barrage that had started with the implosion of a water line, manipulated, by the younger Mandalorian…All seemed to stop.
Rain crystallized before it touched the ground and frost spread from her hand, spiraling, with water already in existence to make ice creation that much easier. The brutal wind that lashed against them ceased and everything went still, dust settling, as the Force became almost inseparable from the environment. Fear saturated the district. Death saturated it. Suffering amplified it.
The White Noise attempted to sever her connection but as her cells decayed and repaired, the city offered more, creating new tethers, while the lattice-work of
Lily Rhodes
provided awareness to more than just this instance. The mind of her daughter
Quinn Varanin
was…Slipping beneath insecurities born of trauma that had yet to process. She gave her heart too easily and refused to protect it. Normally, Srina would have let her work it through…But not when she was intrinsically connected to many of the Sith on the battlefield. Srina could shield them from her pain, her innermost thoughts, because her will was iron…Quinn had not. That was…
Dangerous. It could not continue, not now, in the eleventh hour.
<<…Pitya min...>>
Her hand and arm dragged painfully through the dirt while the childhood name fluttered down around her daughter as if she were right beside her. There was no speech, nothing, but two words that would bring her back to every memory that was the exact opposite of what her mind feared. She was not alone and had
never been alone. Not since Srina had picked up a crying child from the floor of the palace of Eshan while receiving her orders, the princess tucked to her chest. Srina held her, carried her, and saw her
so clearly
so often…Quinn probably wished she didn’t.
Slowly…
Srina pulled herself up from the ground and her back met something solid. The arm that slid around her waist was massive, stained with blood, and warmth pressed against her spine. While the White Noise had momentarily been interrupted, it started anew, continuing its relentless work. How strange it was that warriors of strength and spirit relied on the equivalent of a mystical laser pointer to keep her at bay. For the first time since the ND-013 had been turned in her direction the agony remained dulled…Not because she was immune—But because
Mercy
had angled her mountain of a body between them. Her sister. Her sword and shield.
The realization was equal parts irritating and reassuring. Part of her wanted to argue…She could take it. She could endure it, suffer it, because there were worse things than physical pain and the pale Echani had survived them all. The death of a child and the death of her husband. All because she chose the kinder path, chose to believe the lie. That people were inherently…
Good.
She had been wrong.
Srina was constantly surrounded by the souls she had lost. Her gentleness had killed them, she had been the problem. She was the reason they were dead. Every time she caved to guilt in her youth or chose to forgive her foes it only made things worse. She chose differently, now. She was the monster to everyone but her children and it made them stronger because she no longer hesitated. Her ruthlessness was learned, not innate, but it was absolute. Her hand rose and she reached back to press her hand against the cheek of the giantess. It was not with affection.
“Take what you need from me…”
She was
draining her beloved battle-sister.
Taking her anger and hate, her every black thought, and her veins darkened while the transfer of injury turned metallic orbs to ink-colored pools. The pale woman had always known that Mercy was unique in her own way. Synchronized perfectly with her own passions in a form few could manage without coming across as hulking, barbaric slobs…But this was something else. Her breathing hitched when the river of loathing she had expected revealed itself to be an ocean that boiled with equal parts hate and joy. For someone like Srina who was so cold, so collected, it made her feel both angelic and violently insane…How did the Core Empress live like this?
How did she function?
Srina forced herself to breathe. To exist through the pain, to refine what she felt, rather than let it overwhelm her.
By the time she acclimated eyes the shade of starless night turned toward the storm with barely contained violence, tamed, by the thrill of a bloody hunt. Filled with emotion that did not belong to her but breathed through her all the same. Humbarine all but disappeared. It was still there, the buildings, the streets, the dead, the war…But all of it became secondary to something much larger gathering overhead. Her curse fed on fear and the storm fed upon her curse. The grief of
Quinn Varanin
and the wrath of
Darth Carnifex
collected and the accumulated suffering twisted into something that nearly felt alive.
She could feel the pulse of the phylactery that belong to the Butcher King beating against her chest. It sat against her skin where it always did, malevolent, offering silent communication between herself and the epicanthix. It was the fragment of another monster. Another King—A friend. It recognized her in the same way one predator recognized the other and the dark clouds above them began to shift. It was subtle at first but it turned violent in the blink of an eye.
The entire district seemed to darken as the pressure in the atmosphere increased. The rain and wind stayed frozen, dead silent, while bloodred light flared through the cloudbank. It happened again and little bursts of static electricity began to arc across the ground. It was unnatural…But the city itself wanted blood. The storm followed her presence and simply chose to oblige.
Hollow eyes drifted down on the two warriors, one grounded, one flying beneath the gathering maelstrom and watched while they refused to give up. The younger circled skillfully through the air while the older one was pulled from the rubble by a cable. Persistent, little men. She could grudgingly respect that but…Not all things she respected, deserved to live. The silvery Empress leaned back against
Mercy
and allowed the larger woman to support her weight while the sky began to come apart overhead. The crimson lightning that had been visible for all to see crawled through the clouds like veins beneath the skin. The pressure became unbearable…The scent of ozone, choking, regardless of how well their faces were shielded. The wind suddenly started churning again and frozen rain ripped by the warriors with unparalleled sharpness, but her voice, never rose above a whisper.
She offered only what she had promised with one single word.
“Die.”
The storm above answered, not with one bolt of lightning…
But with all of them.
Carduul Akahl
Koda Fett
