Sand Sans Lane (First Order Dominion of Praesitlyn, N-49)

[Dirk Bannahan]

Racosidae: the Rueful Ren
Objective 1: Get the Jedi
Location: Pushing the LZ
Allies: [member="Seto Du Couteau"] | [member="Chandana Kay"]

In a wave of fury the First Order grabbed greedily upon the temporary advantage and pressed the attack on a focal point centered on the ruined gaps upon the wall of the headquarters. Each press turned into a miniature meat grinder as grenade flourishes pounded back and forth, killing defender and attacker alike but never stopping the overall momentum. Behind this first wave came another set of landing craft filled with another mismatched medley of auxiliary thralls ripe for the slaughter and more elite army troopers set on setting up and maintaining a base of fire with their superior weapons.

Once Rae burst through her chosen set of broken doors she and her following allies found themselves working into and out of series of connecting passages in a straight up gauntlet of murder. It was here that the bloodlust utterly consumed her, and in an ever building rage she became little more than another cog in the brutal skirmish, taking fire and killing in a senseless, disconnected funnel inter-cut with bouts of sudden and violent Force power used to mangle groups of determined opponents.

She served a good distraction, but she wasn’t heading towards the big target. It would be up to the other operatives to redirect their paths in order to hit the objective.

 

[Mellifluous Magenta]

Thrall Chandana Kay
Post 3
Objective: 1
Location: Drop Zone
Equipment: F-11D Blaster Rifle, Hekler’Kok LA-1 Light Armor, Black Balaclava, NADIR P-SERIES Combat Knife, Vibroblade w/ Mono-molecular Edge, 2 Smoke Grenades
Allies: [member=Racosidae] and [member="Seto Du Couteau"]

Quite simply, Chandana let the momentum of the charge guide her movements as she did her small part in pressing the assault against the compound. She ended up following one of the witch-knights who seized upon the initiative, and seemed to find the weakest points along the outer walls and entrances to the compound to assault. However, even by penetrating what she assumed were the most poorly-defended avenues into the fortress, there was still a considerable gauntlet for the poorly-trained First Order Auxiliary assailants to run. Chandana and her auxiliary comrades were forced to pass through a considerable volume of fire, which most were ill-equipped to endure given the low-quality of their armor and weapons. As such, auxiliaries fell in droves, and on more than one occasion, Chandana found herself dragging wounded comrades into cover, advancing under fire, and feeding suppressive fire into the gaping maw of the enemy so as to cover her comrades who sought to do the same. This tactic, while dangerous and arguably outdated given the highly advanced modern standards of combat armor, was somewhat effective in easing the amount of casualities experienced by the auxiliary.

Given the chaotic and close-quarters nature of the firefight, which was exacerbated by the profuse amount of smoke grenades and poorly-aimed blaster fire. On multiple occasions, Chandana found herself firing at targets she couldn't see, her aim only guided by where her eyes processed the blaster bolts coming from amidst the dense walls of smoke. She presumed that at least a few of her shots had connected with their targets, since for the most part, a single stream of blaster bolts stopped whenever she fired in the general direction they were coming from.

However, the coherence of the First Order assault within that specific zone of combat began to break down when the auxiliary forces were flanked by assailants coming from the alternate routes within the compound. Chandana nearly found herself in the middle of a crossfire just as she realized the threat. On impulse, the diminutive soldier broke into a sprint and headed for a nearby door which at first glance was heavily barricaded, but seemed to buckle with only a few aimed shots from her F-11D fired at the hinges. The door fell upon taking a thirty-seven kilogram battering ram to the hinges, which in actuality, was simply a running dropkick from Chandana herself.

On account of the reckless and desperate maneuver, the diminutive soldier ended up on the ground with shooting pains up her left leg. An initial attempt to stand on it yielded only a grimace and a lashing pang of agony. The second and third attempts were little different, forcing her to clutch her leg as she crawled to the edge of the hallway. To cover her position, Chandana reached onto her belt, pulled the pin on one of her smoke grenades, and tossed it in front of the fallen door. It would cover her position for now, but she knew that she needed something more substantial to keep herself concealed for longer.

However, when Chandana turned to look down the hallway, she quickly realized that she had inadvertently entered a long, slender, poorly-lit and presumably underground passageway that turned towards a corner which she could not see past from her position. The floor and walls looked to be simply composed of rock and gravel, but were clearly sapient-constructed.

The only thing preventing her from following it was her leg.

 

[Seto du Couteau]

Location: Attempting to break into Headquarters
Objective: 1 | Locate and Subdue Rumored Jedi (Push Through the ruins, help and assist FO forces)
Equipment: FO-07K Multi-purpose Assault Armor
Allies: | [member="Racosidae"] | [member="Chandana Kay"] |

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Seto dashed forward, his senses flared up along the ground below him as he moved across the stacked barricade, with no plan to be sent upwards by yet another mine he jumped clear over a now empty nest of heavy weapons guarded by a set of barricades. Its occupants had either ran, or more likely died from his comrade's initial Force, and subsequent, attack Unlucky for them. More yells and blaster fire erupted, and a sense of dread flooded as the enemy troopers filled the air with their fear and anger.

The majority of the outside perimeter had been overrun with the First Order Troopers and their Auxiliary compliments, of which pushed into different entrances ahead of the Stormtroopers. His armor's environmental systems fought against all the heat waffled around him, from the sun and the blaster weapons and explosions. Seto calmed himself with a few breathes and refocused his mind, not that any tactical thoughts from him now would change the overall battle for the deprecated ruins but the Ren had their objective to confirm and to capture a Jedi hunkered down in the ruins.

Moving swiftly into the ruins he found himself in a scenario best described as utterly hellish in all sense of the word. Even without actively use of the Force, such emotions of others around him numbed the mind with anxiety as Seto moved into the thicker part of the fight. Seto kept his defensive stance he deflected steady streams of fire with his lightsabers, he trusted his armor to absorb some of the shots that he could barely glance away in time but he soon found himself ducking between cover.

Perhaps out in the open he could take advantage of the open space to keep focused fire on him difficult to track, but in a hallway or passageway with only one direction to fire, it put a damper on his abilities to move swiftly forward. Luckily they haven't brought up any heavy weapons Seto tried to encourage himself, noted that his quieter Ren had taken up the responsibility to draw as much attention as possible.

Three troopers attempted to maneuver themselves into better position but Seto used the Force to keep them down as suddenly a steady stream of heavy fire rained on them from their flank. Someone had thrown another smoke, and Seto took his chance to advance and engage briefly with the new enemy that attempted to out flank their forward push. His eyes scanned for a different passageway as his hand threw his lightsaber. Short screams and several indisposed enemy forces, Seto found his crimson blade's hilt returned to his right palm.

With only a brief moment to catch his breath, Seto pushed through the smoke and surprised the enemy on the other side as a pair of sabers cut straight through their armor. With a snap hiss he powered down his sabers and wielded the Force to tug the smoke and have the enemy forces unable to track his movements.

A sharp emotion of pain, Seto pushed through the smoke, only stopped for moments at a time to let blaster bolts shoot past him as the smoke around him continued to do its job. He found a different passageway that lead deeper into the ruins and that spurred Seto forward. He frowned slightly as he realized the entrance hadn't opened from the inside outwards, but pushed in from the outside. Slowly Seto found a familiar pair of eyes and quickly looked downwards as he sense something deeper in the ruins.

Seto knelt next to the poor Auxiliary trooper, but he had little practice with Force healing and if he attempted he couldn't promise much success. Or less pain for that matter. "I'm not a Force Healer, and if I attempt to carry you back into that firefight," Seto gestured with his thumb," -Can't say I'll be able to defend the both of us properly," And unfortunately I need to explore this passage quickly. "-Or I can help you follow me down this low light passage into Lord knows where and facing God knows who," Seto offered, he could use the Force to help the Auxiliary trooper or carry her if push ever came to shove. If the Jedi is down here, she could use my Commlink device to request help or at least alert the other Ren.

"Could be fun," Seto added, almost as if he just talked to himself. A small smile tugged the corners of his lips as he hoped the red visor hid his facial features enough.

 

[The Major]

Allies: [member="Konstantin Makarev"] | [member="Alika Zovu"] | The First Order
Siblings: [member="Martin Shepard"]
Enemies: Sand and heat
Location: At location
Objective: Objective II

The rather mismatched party piled out from there shuttle quite close to the source of the disturbance without incident. Walking any distance in this open, sand whipped terrain was too risky and too much a heat stroke inviting pain to go for anything too dramatic or sweeping. The same problem occurred once the group really felt the blowing winds of hot, itching air as they crossed over the space.

For the Major’s part, she’d rather be shot than suffer this any longer.

Spotting some tracks in the sand she made no qualms or dramatic turns. She followed them towards the entrance, coveted the cover inside, and made her play, somewhat conscious of the revolver hanging low upon her thigh.

“To anyone inside! This is the First Order! By our authority, reveal yourselves immediately or suffer terse, precise, and poignant physical instruction.” She looked back momentarily and her allies and shrugged before folding her arms behind her.

 

[Hansen]

Alika Zovu
Objective #: Two
Nearby Downed Frigate/Transport
Nearby: [member="The Major"], [member="Konstantin Makarev"]
Allies: [member="The Major"], [member="Konstantin Makarev"]
Enemies: None

Alika clad head-to-toe in that distinctive void black Shadowtrooper Armour takes point with her boots thundering down the boarding ramp followed closely behind by the other members of Director's Security Detail; a mixture of Stormtroopers and "Shadowtrooper" Agents all highly trained and disciplined although none are quite so youthful as Special Agent Zovu who had prematurely been thrown onto the crucible of combat out of necessity during the Galactic Alliance-First Order War. The sand was rippled a reflection of strong gale-like winds that howled through the area and now is no different with irritating amounts of sand flung up towards the Troops who were protected from such distractions by their armour, the swaggering Director Alika notes is not so fortunate and decides to try and add some daft humour into the situation. "Argh! We sail me'harties cross this ere dune sea as Sand-pirates to the unexpectin star-lovin' Kapitan." Alika's wee-quay pirate impression falls short of accurate but still manages to solicit a chuckle from the other Agents and Stormtrooper Companions as they approached the downed hulk, Alika wasn't sure why they were, to begin with although that didn't really matter it was important not to daydream and dwell on the fantasy of imagination. Alika boldly surges forth towards a pair of pursed gunmetal gray doors that formed the airlock alongside the Stormtroopers who stand in a single rank with their blasters trained on the door, a break in behaviour from the other FOSB Agents who all seemed to find it more prudent to seek cover. Alika's cinder coloured spheres remain fixed on the door waiting for any disturbance, without knowing what waited on the other side she continued to stand her ground with firm knees and steady heartbeat though she waits with an eager anxiety for the conclusion of this tense moment where for all the young Agent knew a Rancor could be waiting for them and while glancing over her weapon she is confident they could kill such a creature with the means available nobody fancied the idea of being a snack for some unsavoury creature.

 

[Eighth Guard]

The Eighth Guard, Praetorian Knight​

Equipment: Bilari Swordwhip - Praetorian Armour​

Location: Praesitlyn, Unknown Tomb​

Status: Objective II - Relic Hunt​

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His head craned to look down the corridor as two figures emerged from the darkness: Marriskcal, accompanied by the one he knew as Primat Ren. The Eighth Guard gave a nod in their direction, before dragging the sharp side of the blade across his hand in one swift motion, blood escaping the cut almost immediately as the knife ceased contact. He did this so that nobody would waste their time telling him not to do it; the sentiment, as appreciated as it might be, was inefficient on a mission like this. The man didn't let out any sound that signalled that he was in pain, nor did his body language change a mere millimetre, he only pressed the now-bleeding extremity onto the soft stone of the door.

The chamber began to rumble, the same way it had before, as the slab lowered itself into the ground and admitted them into a dimly lit room. The Eighth Guard stepped forward, his gaze affixed on the single pedestal located at the centre of the room, a holocron that was glowing brilliantly red placed on top of it. He didn't dare touch it, for he sensed great darkness emanating from the ancient device, instead opting to maintain a minor distance away from the repository of knowledge before him. But it was already too late for him, for the third and final chamber began melting away, the walls expanding outward and turning a piercing black colour. Eight quickly looked around, noticing that both the exit and his allies had disappeared completely, leaving him alone.

He glanced back to where he had left the holocron, instead seeing nothing, but the dark presence he felt had moved somehow. He did not know where until he locked eyes with a figure sitting in an obsidian throne, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and a feeling of cold washed over him.

It couldn't be Him. It was impossible.

Before the Praetorian Knight, was the Supreme Leader himself.

He didn't kneel, he didn't cower, he just didn't.

It was a fake.

It had to be.

[member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Primat Ren"]​

 

[Varian Alaric]

Location| Unknown Tomb, Valley of Tombs, Praesitlyn
Objective| II
Allies| [member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Eighth Guard"]
Enemies| Unknown

Equipment| 2x Lightsabers (crimson), Multi-purpose Assault Armor(Without Helmet)
Status| Confused as Hell

He had lost track of Marriskcal when he followed in behind Eighth. She seemed to have just...vanished from Primat's sight, right out of thin air, she was gone. As was the crimson guard, and the stormtroopers...he was utterly alone in this spider-web infested tomb. The room itself was pitch black in color, looking like a blank canvas of the sky at night...without the stars or moon to offer any light. The mere sight of a 'starless night,' gave the disciple of Ren a shiver down his spine as he withdrew his saber, igniting the crimson blade in the gloom of the darkness. In the red light given off by the saber, Primat was able to see more of the room, at least some of it that is. Webs clung to the walls, golden ornaments and trinkets decorated the ground. All of it was covered in dust, even the spider webs...which made them look eerie in the red gleam given off by the crimson lightsaber clenched in Primat's hand. As he neared the center of the room, a cold presence washed over him like water, enveloping him. Even his saber was pulled from his hand, into a black abyss below which was sucking in everything in the room.

Or, at least it appeared that way.

Everything around Primat then was sucked in onto it's self, like everything were being consumed by a vortex in the ground. It didn't give way to black, like he assumed it would. No. It gave way to...

...a dining room?

Primat's outfit had changed from the Multi-purpose Assault Armour he had been wearing to, a vest with a fancy shirt and pants. He was sitting at a table, hands folded over each other in his lap which were above a wrinkled white napkin. A wooden table lay outstretched in front of him, from which china with portions of food were laid across in a random, incoherent pattern. The lights above gave the room an ambient and soft orange glow, the exact opposite of the dark abyss which had been that Tomb. But, that wasn't the strangest thing to Primat. No, far from it. Looking up from his lap, his glacier eyes swept around the room with bewilderment dawning on his eyes as he took in where he was and who he was with. To his left, sat Varas. Across from the two of them...sat Kyrel and an unknown woman. He assumed it was Varas's mother due to how similar the two looked. Why the hell...am I here? Why are her parents here? I was, I was just in a tomb with my lightsaber and with combat armour on but, now...I'm in a dining room? Primat's glacier blue eyes fixated themselves onto Kyrel, who he would rather be away from...especially as the man spoke to him. "Hello, Primat. I've heard that you...and my daughter, Varas...have been dating one another, or at least spending time with one another is what I mean. I don't like you, as you well might know from our previous exchanged. I'm just going to ask you outright, so you want to have permission to see my daughter?" Kyrel's words were long and drawn out, the man's voice hanged on every syllable, putting emphasize on everything he told Primat who sat across from him.

He didn't know how to respond, Primat didn't know what to say. This, has to be fake. It just has to be! I mean...one minute I was there all alone in that tomb, the next I'm here with Kyrel talking to me about Varas. The more Primat thought about it, however, the more confused he got at what was real and what was just an illusion. He knew that something was an illusion, though his thoughts were getting muddied at what was perceived to be real, and what was in actuality a real and tangible thing. Hesitantly, he responded to Kyrel, treating this as a delicate conversation. "Yes, yes I do want to have your permission to see your daughter. I know that you don't like me, Master Kyrel. But...that shouldn't hamper my relationship with Varas." Primat eagerly awaited a response, and much to his surprise...Kyrel responded almost instantly. "No. You personally insulted me to my face, and you're striking up rebellious instinct in my daughter. She barely listens to me anymore now...after spending time, with you. I will not, nor will I ever grant your request." To his right, Primat heard the voice of Varas interject in Kyrel's choice. "Father, you cannot possibly assume anything about Primat. At least he cares for me, at least I'm not just...some clone manufactured in a lab to him!"

At the last word that Varas spoke, the world slowed down. Everyone in the room slowed to a halt in a few seconds, frozen in their previous positions. All of them...save for Primat...

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Praetorian Initiate
Objective II
Equipment | FO-07K Multi-purpose Assault Armour with Repulsorlift Technology, Vibrodaggers, Lightsaber & Training Lightsaber, DE-39 Maser Rifle, Throwing Knives, Binding Wires, Injector Pens filled with Lecepanine, C-25 Fragmentation Grenades
Location | Valley of Tombs, Praesitlyn
Allies | First Order, [member="Eighth Guard"], [member="Primat Ren"]
Status | Simmering

[SIZE=11pt]Marriskcal twitched in annoyance at the blasé manner in which the Guard cut himself, her fingers curling into a loose fist as she stopped herself from stepping forward and grabbing his hurt hand. Though she allowed her displeasure to colour her presence in the force, the initiate said nothing for the time being. Despite her own wishes and desires, she knew that it would have to wait until their current assignment is done and over with.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The mission always came first.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]With a light frown on her lips, Marriskcal followed the two men into the third and final chamber. The sense of wrongness crept up upon the edges of her senses as the air grew heavier and more oppressive. The moment her gaze fell onto the glowing holocron, the blonde took a step away in an instinctive attempt at trying to exit the chamber, but she knew the moment she stepped within that the trap has already been sprung. Her jaw clenched as she watched the space they were standing in began to stretch and elongate, as the permeating black flowed and spread across the dusty floors and crept up the walls.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]She found herself alone, surrounded by all consuming darkness.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Finding herself in her plain set of robes in this empty space, the blonde shifted into a relaxed stance, preparing herself to counter whatever it was the ancient tomb and the holocron would see fit to challenge them with. However, unlike her older companions, Marriskcal had the misfortune of having the two people whose opinions and regard she valued above all others at this point in time accompanying her[/SIZE]. So when the Guard and Primat stepped out from the gloom and stood before her, the initiate found herself resigned. Between their presences that she could still somewhat discern and the figures overlaying them, she found it hard to tell truth from lie.

[SIZE=11pt]Where did the illusion begin and where does it end[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]But what Marriskcal did not expect though… was the slender figure that skipped up to her and pulled her into a hug from the back. There was only one person in the galaxy that would ever do that to her. Lori, she thought weakly, almost afraid to turn to face the shroud of her friend. “Marris~” the brunette said in her usual cheerful teasing tone, her voice so familiar that her heart began to ache. “Did you miss me?” The initiate closed her eyes, prepared for the accusations that she knew would be coming. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Do you know that Commenor is now a mere shade of what it once was?” She has known, of course. But even with the knowledge, Marriskcal had chosen to do nothing. The Sith Empire and the First Order were allied, and despite there being no explicit orders from their superiors, the initiate knew that it was an unspoken fact that they were not to interfere with the subjugation of Commenor. But she thought of Lori often, wondering if her friend and her mother who loved sapir tea and her brother who was scared of Lori’s piloting skills were safe. Out of guilt, the blonde had yet to send a holomessage to her friend in awhile. “Tell me one thing. Would you be sad if I died?”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Lori…”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Don’t Lori me, Marris. Would you shed a tear for me? Do you even possess the ability to cry? Or would it please you to know you’ve cut yet another thread that binds you?” Despite her friend’s tone remaining calm and even, there was an underlying bite of venom in her words. “Tell me–”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The Marriskcal whom Lori has met from before was adrift; always hesitating, always uncertain. The Marriskcal who stood here today was someone who lived by the decisions she has made, be it good or bad. Yes, she may lament them deep within her heart, but she would never allow herself to regret her decisions. The only reason her friend remained unharmed was because the blonde actually did treasure the friendship they had. Her eyes cold, the initiate ignored the figure still clinging to her and turned her attention to Primat’s figure.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Two more.[/SIZE]

 

[Mellifluous Magenta]

Thrall Chandana Kay
Post 4
Objective: 1
Location: Drop Zone
Equipment: F-11D Blaster Rifle, Hekler’Kok LA-1 Light Armor, Black Balaclava, NADIR P-SERIES Combat Knife, Vibroblade w/ Mono-molecular Edge, 2 Smoke Grenades
Allies: [member=Racosidae] and [member="Seto Du Couteau"]

Chandana could not help but to hold her breath within her chest. She raised her rifle to eye-level when she spotted the the broad and armored figure as it walked through the smoke. Even when she identified the figure as one of the witch-knights, she could hardly breath a sigh of relief, knowing that this man might siphon her life force from her body at any second to serve as fuel to one of his spells.

Understandably, she was quite surprised to hear that he actually wanted to help her.

Wide, unfathomably perplexed eyes stared back at the knight, and for a moment, the diminutive thrall found herself at a loss for words. Of course, Chandana loved receiving attention, but at that moment, she began to wonder if this was too much for even her immodest sensibilities.

The sharp aching pangs that coursed up her leg wrenched the auxiliary from her thoughts, and within a moment, her mind was totally focused on the pain. Unfortunately, that only made the afflicted limb feel worse. She recalled the farming accident in which she had injured the same leg that was hurting at that moment. It had happened so long ago, that the pain and the recovery was a distant memory, especially since she had regained full function of the leg within four months. Perhaps if she had broken the door down with her right leg instead, she would be halfway down the passage by now.

Quickly putting her "what-if" thoughts aside, Chandana glanced down at her knee and began to massage it in an attempt to get a basic diagnosis. From appearances alone, nothing seemed to be out of place, which gave her some measure of hope. The pain shooting up her spine was only a warning from her body, advising her not to put weight on her leg. However, an initial diagnosis hinted that the leg was still functional, at least. Of course, it would need to get treated later, but in the meantime, all she needed was a an injectable painkiller, a stimshot, and a little bit of willpower. The surgery could come after she made it out of the compound alive.

"My Lord! I just need some...stims, a painkiller and some...adrenaline." Chandana answered with a few grimaces, as she pulled up her left pant leg and knee plate, to expose the slightly bruised leg underneath. "It's still...functional, I think...I hope..." She murmured, as a single tear escaped from a duct in her left eye.

 

[Eighth Guard]

The Eighth Guard, Praetorian Knight​

Equipment: Bilari Swordwhip - Praetorian Armour​

Location: Praesitlyn, Unknown Tomb​

Status: Objective II - Relic Hunt​

Theme: The Funeral of Qui-Gon | The Phantom Menace​

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Even though the dim light of the chamber, he could see that the Supreme Leader's face was contorted in anger, not to mention the fact that he could feel it manifesting through the Force. An oppressive wave brought him down to his hands and knees as he struggled to maintain eye contact with the man, his teeth beginning to grind together when the pressure began to steadily increase. "Where were you on Lothal! Your compatriots died because of you! I DIED BECAUSE OF YOU!" He shouted, the shrill and powerful voice making the Eighth Guard's ears begin to ring.

"YOU FAILED! And now you will suffer!"

The pressure reached the point where his armour began to dent, the Praetorian grunting in pain. A monstrous laugh echoed through the obsidian room, radiating from the Supreme Leader himself as he watched the Eighth Guard begin to fold. The man's fists clenched, his fingers digging into the palm of his gloved hands, blood still freely flowing from one of them already. He couldn't bear to keep his head up anymore, the pain beginning to become overwhelming even for someone of his calibre, he couldn't fight it as his neck began to crane downwards ever so slowly, soon to signal his defeat.

This wasn't real.

This couldn't be real.

Something changed in the air around him, the fatigue and pain he had felt mere moments earlier dissipating slightly. His vigour renewed, the Eighth Guard began to push against the Force bearing down upon him, rising ever so slightly with each second that passed, to the horror of the apparition in front of him. He stood, despite the great strain, and faced the black-robed individual, unmoving and unwavering.

He understood now what was happening to him, what this hallucination was meant to symbolise for him. It seemed that the holocron was trying to take advantage of his loyalty for the Supreme Leader to kill him, to retain its secrets and steal his life at the same time. But this thing was not his Master, it was nothing but a poor shadow of the great man, a cheap imitation meant to bewitch him, for the device thought him a vehement idiot. He knew that he had just weakened it by reinforceing his own reality, but now he needed to strike a fatal blow, to destroy it and free him from these Sith machinations.

"You will never..." He grunted, the pressure returning in greater force as the entity scowled, "...be as strong as Sieger Ren."

The illusion bellowed in protest at the Praetorian, shooting a torrent of deadly-looking Force lightning from his wrinkled hand at him. The energy met the crimson armour of the Eighth Guard and went straight through him, not affecting him in the slightest as the room disappeared in a swirl of onyx smoke as he was returned to where he had left off. He paused for a moment, taking in what he had experienced, before stepping forward and grabbing the holocron off of the pedestal and stuffing it into the confines of his armour. The Knight glanced at Marriskcal, busy as she was with Primat Ren who was himself still in an illusion.

He signalled for the sandtroopers to enter the chamber and begin collecting the other miscellaneous trinkets and artefacts as he stepped forward to assist the girl with him.

[member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Primat Ren"]​

 

[Varian Alaric]

Location| Unknown Tomb, Valley of Tombs, Praesitlyn
Objective| II
Allies| [member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Eighth Guard"]
Enemies| Unknown

Equipment| 2x Lightsabers (crimson), Multi-purpose Assault Armor(Without Helmet)
Status| Simmering & Distressed

One minute the scene had been alight with arguments and conversation, the next...everyone and everything was frozen. Save for Primat that is.

Primat didn't know what was happening now, everything was confusing and mixed up. On shaky feet and weak knees, Primat slowly stood up. Kyrel, Varas, and the supposed mother of Varas were all frozen in movement. The shadows themselves were frozen in time as well, staying in their exact same positions no matter how Primat moved around the room. It seemed as though only he was the one who was 'awake' in this room, or at least the only one who could easily move himself without any trouble whatsoever. The air was thick with the feeling of uncertainty and anxiety, all of which stemmed from Primat's increasingly unnerved attitude and feelings about what was happening right now. The force aspect which had brought this illusion to life, most certainly was causing this disarray. It had delved into the mind of Primat, swimming through his memories and fears to find what he dreaded most. This, where Primat was right now...was apparently not what he dreaded most. No, now the force aspect knew that much. It had delved deep enough into the fears of the disciple to find what he truly feared, warping the environment around Primat.

He watched in stunted confusion and nervousness as the environment warped once more around him. The inviting dining room, which had been frozen in a moment of tension and anger...was whisked away as everything turned, to black powder, it was all turning to...dust. The people, the objects, everything was falling into a fine powdery state which resembled simple black dust. That wasn't too bad, it was...uh, certainly nerve wracking. It had set me on edge to say the least, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. Or at least, that was what Primat had thought. That was what he had believed as truth, which he was rightful to think so. However, the illusions cast across Primat's mind was not done yet. Far from it, in fact.

His glacier blue eyes washed over his surroundings, finding himself in a black expanse of darkness once-more as the last objects fell to a dust-like state. He stood there, in the dark space with nothing visible to him. Fear didn't set in however, he wasn't afraid of the dark. Meaning...that this wasn't it. That's...it? Much to his displeasure however, that was not all the force illusion would attack him with. Within a few minute's time as Primat perceived it through the illusion, the dust began to rise as invisible rivers of wind carried it upwards and bent the dust into shapes. He couldn't see it, though Primat could hear the sounds of wind as it carried the dust around him.

And then, their was sunlight. Primat found himself in a field which led up to a cliff, with a steep drop off to raging waters below. At first, he was confused as to where he was. Though, the place he was in quickly came to mind. It was that field from Tamora, the beautiful one which he had wanted to eventually, one day, take Varas to. They had talked about, or at least she had brought up interest in him taking her to Tamora. And, this was the place he had in mind to take her to, to show her it's beauty.

A Blessing ~ Max Richter
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kNYc-443G6E

Then he saw Varas in the field, and a weight of dread dropped in the stomach of Primat.

He saw Varas among the the field of grass, and then in an instant their was a figure composed entirely of shadow. Primat couldn't comprehend what had happened, it had gone by far too quickly. All he heard was...the scream of pain as the figure stabbed a sword through the chest of Varas. "NO!" He yelled out, but it was to no avail. The figure didn't notice him, or chose not to. "Don't you karking touch her!" Primat wasn't one for cursing out loud, he didn't even curse much in his head. He just, didn't. But now, all he wanted to do...was kill that figure who was composed of shadow.

He needed to kill him slow, for what that unknown figure had done to Varas, just now. He didn't want the man to die slow, no...he needed him to die slowly. It was the only outcome Primat would take.

His feet wouldn't move, his arms wouldn't move. His weapons? They weren't their, their was nothing he could do. Not even the force would heed his call for help. Primat took a step forward but was pushed back by some unseen, invisible force. It kept him in place. It kept him in place...It kept him in place, as the sword cut through her chest, and then her stomach. Then...she fell to the ground. The shadowy figure disappeared with the wind, turning to dust as it was swept away by the wind. Once gone, the unseen force which had kept him back, released him. Primat ran towards Varas, kneeling down at her side as his glacier eyes frantically scanned over her. "Varas, Varas!" Primat spoke aloud to her, trying to get her attention. His hands shook as he tried to do something to stop the bleeding from her chest and stomach. All it did, was get her blood on his hands and wrists. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he tried to muster up something to say, something to calm her. She wasn't going to die. He wouldn't let her die, not here...not like this.

His eyes briefly jumped down to his hands, he knew her blood was on his hands. But the sight of it, of the blood..her blood on his hands made his eyes glaze over with tears. A few tears began to drip down his cheeks, leaving thin lines of water in their wake as they dropped from his face, onto the once green grass below. He couldn't have Varas die here, bleeding out. He couldn't have done anything to help her, he was frozen. Because of course he was. Because of course the Galaxy chose to ruin your life in a moment. He knew he could have done something...he just, hadn't tried hard enough. His best...was worthless, it wasn't good enough. Hell, he couldn't even help her right now. No words of comfort came to his grief-stricken mind. He needed to try and calm Varas as she bled out, her panicked and frenzied look of impeding death...

...it was just too much. He wasn't a medic, he wasn't good at helping people. He couldn't help the one person, he loved. He was utterly useless. And then, of course...Varas just had to speak. "You could have saved me...why, why didn't you?" Her face was full of fear and confusion, and her voice was filled with pain and...even accusation. He didn't know anymore. He couldn't say anything. He didn't want to ever lie to Varas. So, saying 'It'll be okay,' was a flat our lie. One that he wouldn't do. All he could do was try to stop the bleeding, try to keep her alive till help arrived. If help arrived. His hands kept at her wounds, applying pressure to slow the rate of blood loss. All it did however, was cover his hands more in her blood."Varas....I don't know if you know this but, I love you. Please, just stay here! I know I'm not worthy to be with you, I'm weak. I couldn't save you. I'm not asking for a second chance, I'm asking for you to trust in me."

"How could I ever trust you, when you couldn't even save me?"

"No, no it wasn't like that. I couldn't move I-"

"I can never trust you, you let me die Primat."

 

[Tobias Wrynn]

Wrynn held no great love for any one member of the First Order. In truth, his allegiences fell largely with the entire organization, and so the Supreme Leader was only of significance for his contributions in the creation and bolstering of their Empire. No single entity could truly claim the credit he did for all of their vast works, because it took a monolithic effort on the part of thousands to raise and maintain something so vast and unparalleled in scope. He was certain that within FOSB and the First Imperial government, the cult of Seiger Ren was far less prominent than in the Corps and elsewhere.

Something about the mysticism of a Force Using demigod really stirred the faith of the insignificant. Tobias had never liked the Force, or anyone who used it. That much, he was absolutely certain of. As the doors opened and they filtered out onto the surface of Praesitlyn, he was another ghost in their horde of nameless, faceless agents. He found it ironic that they could all unite under the same cause, yet hold such starkly different beliefs.

It was beautiful, in a pedantic sort of way.

"Fifty meters," he finally said as they started to close the gap and head for the Communications complex. With their weapons readied and comms secured, a standard check only served to improve their synchronization. "Jorin, slice the door when we get in position. I'll be your cover."

He glanced to [member="Omari Vyken"] and made a few subtle but significant gestures. The rest of the group was largely comprised of handpicked Stormtroopers and other rogue elements, a group he was uncertain of but the Bureau saw fit to draft for the job. Unnecessary in his mind, but acceptable. For now.

We'll handle the signal changeover personally. Don't trust the ID numbers with real Intel.

That was how FOSB would prefer it anyway. Need to know, and the fireteam they sent was largely intended for force, with a lesser attache for precision. Mercenary guards are likely. Proceed with due diligence.

 

[Omari Ngao]

BYOO: Intel Station
[member="Tobias Wrynn"]

As they closed in on the target, Omari's hands deftly went through the process of weapons checking his blaster. The brief suggested the chances were high they would run into hostiles, not that that'd be a problem for the FOSB duo, even if they had extra weight in the form of additional forces to carry around.

Noting the gestures he was given, Vyken's rifle raised and he swept his helmet through the surroundings, swapping through the settings. With his rangefinder, he targeted surveillance systems and electronics that he could detect, and allowed their attaches to deal with them just as the door was opening after Jorin's slicing.

Go time.

The Specialist's black form took him to the side of the open door's maw. It was dark inside, but their helmets had floodlights. Hostiles would know where they were, and if they were smart, they'd have a crossfire on the door, or deeper in the shadows.

"Life signs. Trio." Omari declared, his tone easy. He had always been good under the pressure... The pressure to make sure that everyone made it out alive and that the mission was completed without a hitch. Fifteen meters, five meters apart. Elevation unknown. Breach." Omari ordered.

And one of the stormtroopers that was with them through in a concussion grenade, and the moment it blew, the white clad forces moved in.

 

[Seto du Couteau]

Location: Attempting to break into Headquarters
Objective: 1 | Locate and Subdue Rumored Jedi (Push Through the ruins, help and assist FO forces)
Equipment: FO-07K Multi-purpose Assault Armor TCB-42 Infiltration Droid
Allies: | [member="Racosidae"] | [member="Chandana Kay"] |

Eyes returned back to his newly appointed partner and tracked the Auxiliary's movements towards her leg, she revealed a rather badly bruised leg in Seto's opinion and while still knelt next to the trooper he raised his right forearm. His droid on his back popped off and gently floated next to them and with his free hand he used the Force to grab his small MedKit from his utility belt. He turned his head to inspect each floating medical item and grabbed two injections and handed them to the Auxiliary trooper. The Stim might be a bit much since it's made for me, but-

"The blue label is a Painkiller, it'll slow down any swelling and keep the pain off your mind for a while," Seto explained briefly, he gestured for her to apply it into her thigh or leg. "-And for the green label one that's an adrenaline stim shot, let's hold off on that until you really need to run or fight," Seto added, his other hand went back to his right forearm, his fingers messed with more controls for his droid as he stood back up.

The Infiltration droid nodded its head towards the Auxiliary trooper, "Use the droid to help yourself walk and to keep some weight off your leg and with its help you can push through communications once we go deeper into the ruins where it might get spotty with transmissions," Seto offered, he turned to face the unexplored passageway and slowly began his walk. If we push with too many numbers, the rebels will notice and we'd be stuck in a passageway with little to no cover. Seto did not enjoy the prospect of being caught in a very poor and dangerous position, especially with an injured.

Seto flicked on his crimson saber and continued his walk further into the passageway and knew if the rumored Jedi had chosen not to assist the rebels above, it is of no doubt the Jedi would make a last stand somewhere near the depths of the ruins. Possibly to collapse the entire roof on our heads like its some valiant gesture Seto joked to himself, perhaps he played with fate with such a thought.

"Also, do keep yourself alive, always nice to have more people to play Sabacc with afterwards," Seto turned his head to address the Auxiliary trooper, "-And the name's Seto. " He turned his attention back ahead of him and with a single breath he stretched the Force outwards. Let's see if you're really here Mr. Jedi.

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Praetorian Initiate
Objective II
Equipment | FO-07K Multi-purpose Assault Armour with Repulsorlift Technology, Vibrodaggers, Lightsaber & Training Lightsaber, DE-39 Maser Rifle, Throwing Knives, Binding Wires, Injector Pens filled with Lecepanine, C-25 Fragmentation Grenades
Location | Valley of Tombs, Praesitlyn
Allies | First Order, [member="Eighth Guard"], [member="Primat Ren"]
Status | Hollow

[SIZE=11pt]“Hey Marr, you seem unhappy to see me.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The moment her brother spoke, it all became clear to the young blonde. Her gaze moved from the pale arms looped around her waist, to Primat who was currently addressing her, before finally falling towards the still silent Praetorian Guard. All three of them were shadows, shrouds that were overlaid over her insecurities. “You are not Primat,” she stated, her tone dark and dangerous. It was only sentimentality that kept her from attacking the figure who has taken on her brother’s features.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Clever girl. I guess you’ve already started suspecting that it’s not all what it seems.” There was a pause as not-Primat observed her, his glacier blue eyes gleaming with unspoken malice. “So then, why don’t you try to break out[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]?” The initiate’s frown grew deeper at his query, knowing full well that the other knew why she was not able to escape. After all, how did one defeat their own mind in such a short amount of time? The words uttered by not-Lori were words that has found its way to her thoughts many times. While Marriskcal knew full well that this was a trap created to ensnare her consciousness, it was also a cage whose door she could only open if she managed to overcome her nightmares.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The shroud of her brother stepped up towards her, his hand reaching out to touch her. With a snarl, Marriskcal took a step forward, her right hand moving in an arc to knock the impostor's to a side. “Do not touch me.” So intent was she on the figure of not-Primat that the young blonde barely noticed that her action caused the shroud of her friend to melt and dissipate into a swirl of dark smoke. “I’m wounded. It’s not like he would reciprocate your affection outside of this space anyway.” And just like that, the shroud dropped to the crux of the matter. “Primat cares for me. And even if he– You are not him.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]A fracture appeared on her composure.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Did you just try to lie to yourself, Marr?” The initiate flinched at not-Primat’s words, knowing he had caught her slip. Marriskcal definitely minded whether or not her brother cared for her as she did when it came to him. There were times where the insidious whisper of her insecurities weaved into the canvas of her thoughts. “Do you actually think he could come to care for you? You can be amusing at times, but you are mostly annoying with your persistent familiarity. Whatever camaraderie you thought the both of you have is all in your mind.”

Thoroughly shaken by the words uttered by her false brother, the blonde barely managed to defend herself when her final tormentor lunged into her space, lashing out with a sweeping strike.[/SIZE]

 

[Eighth Guard]

The Eighth Guard, Praetorian Knight​

Equipment: Bilari Swordwhip - Praetorian Armour​

Location: Praesitlyn, Unknown Tomb​

Status: Objective II - Relic Hunt​

​

​

​

The Eighth Guard jumped, avoiding the girl's sweeping strike with great ease as he moved to stand in front of her. "You are nothing more than a silly little girl with delusions of grandeur." He said, his accent shrill and cold instead of pleasing and calm, "So determined to prove herself, so determined to make friends in the Order. Too oblivious to realize that nobody enjoys the company of a little blonde brat. Affection from them is something you'll never have!" Several faceless Praetorians and Knights of Ren appeared behind him, all of them laughing in unison at her before disappearing simultaneously.

The man began to pace, his gloved hands balling into fists. "You train every day, in hopes of surpassing him. But you never will, you're weak, incapable of impressing him, incapable of serving the Supreme Leader." He proclaimed, "He gives you looks, you know, whenever you think you've accomplished something, whenever you think you've done something spectacular. Oh, but don't think they're of affection. No, you solicit nothing more than pity. You deserve even less."

Not-Eight stopped in his tracks, his vision moving from the girl's face to just above her. He began to step back in a terrified manner, only freezing when he was lifted off of his feet by some unknown Force. His hands moved up to his throat as sounds of choking began to fill the chamber, ending with a sickening crack as his head jolted to the right suddenly, his neck having been snapped. The echo of footsteps came behind her as a gloved hand placed itself on her shoulder, the crimson extremity squeezing it in a reassuring manner.

"Marriskcal." The name rolled off of his tongue, the sheer emotion behind the single word speaking a thousand times louder than the diatribe of the apparition could ever hope to replicate.

[member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Primat Ren"]​

 

[Mellifluous Magenta]

Thrall Chandana Kay
Post 5
Objective: 1
Location: Drop Zone
Equipment: F-11D Blaster Rifle, Hekler’Kok LA-1 Light Armor, Black Balaclava, NADIR P-SERIES Combat Knife, Vibroblade w/ Mono-molecular Edge, 2 Smoke Grenades
Allies: [member=Racosidae] and [member="Seto Du Couteau"]

With one tiny hand outstretched to take the two injection pens from the knight, Chandana pulled her balaclava off her head with the other to reveal a mop of pink hair as the concealing garment fell within the middle of her lap. She then slotted the green-labeled pen within her utility belt, and began to prepare the blue-labeled pen for the injection.

"Thank you...my Lord." Chandana spoke as she undid the sterile wrappings around the needle, before pulling up her pant leg even further to uncover her left thigh, which was notably absent of bruises or scarring unlike her knee. With a deep intake of breath, Chandana aligned the needle with her femoral artery, gently pressed it into her skin, and pushed down the switch, which initiated the injection of the painkiller substance into her body.

The effects were almost instantaneous.

As she retracted the needle, the relentless flow of searing pain shooting up her spine dissipated within a moment. Of course, she knew that it hadn't corrected the issue with her leg, but that didn't stop her from feeling relieved, at least. When she moved to stand, her body only protested against the action with a minor ache. However, she could sense that the balance on her left side was unstable and prone to failure if she moved too forcefully. Not to mention, even by simply standing, Chandana knew that she was inflicting even more damage onto the injury. In essence, the leg was a ticking time bomb, and she did not have long until it was rendered dysfunctional. At that point, no amount of pain killers would keep her moving, but considering the ever present danger in the here and now, that was an acceptable risk

She looked at the floating probe droid he had given her and unconsciously raised a single eyebrow. A cursory glance at it told her that it was too small to bear her weight while still remaining afloat. She didn't want to accidentally crush it, if she would need it to send out communications.

After picking up her rifle and her balaclava (which she opted not to put back on), Chandana followed after Seto with a pronounced limp in her gait.

"Thank you Lord...Seto." She replied in a markedly shy tone. "Umm...my name is Chandana...Chandana Kay." The thrall answered softly. "I'll do my best to stay alive...sir."

 

[Varian Alaric]

[Posted too Soon]

 

[Varian Alaric]

Location| Unknown Tomb, Valley of Tombs, Praesitlyn
Objective| II
Allies| Marriskcal Latihttp://starwarsrp.net/user/18910-marriskcal-lati/ | Eighth Guard
Enemies| Unknown

Equipment| 2x Lightsabers (crimson), Multi-purpose Assault Armor(Without Helmet)
Status| Distressed

Varas...was dying. At the sound of her words, he ignored what she said. Opting to just try and keep her alive. She, she's just going into shock from the pain and the blood loss. She isn't meaning what she is saying.

Though, a small part of Primat knew better. She had meant it. Every. Single. Word. She had meant it all.

No, no that just...it wasn't true. It would never be true! Primat didn't know what to say to Varas as she laid their, her blood staining the once green grass around the two of them. He couldn't do anything to stop the bleeding. He couldn't cauterize the wounds, he didn't know how to use force heal. Primat was at a loss for what to do, he couldn't do anything. He was...useless right now. He was utterly useless and could do nothing as Varas died. All he could do, was sit by her side and try to stop the bleeding. The more pressure he applied, the less blood that came out of her wounds. But, it just wasn't working. Nothing was going to work. No matter how much Primat would tell himself he could save her...he just wouldn't be able to save her. His glistening eyes from earlier began to release tears once more at the realization of his situation. The tears slowly ran down Primat's cheeks, some falling onto the blood-stained clothes of Varas while other tears fell onto the grass below.

"Come on Varas, just...just hang on!" Primat practically yelled out in a gloom of sadness and self-hatred at himself. He could have done more. He should have done more. But, he could do all he could try to do now. He wasn't going to fail. He would never fail again, he owed Varas all of his effort now. He had failed in protecting her. He had been too weak, too clumsy and too unworthy of being with her. He would never be able to make it right again. But, now he would save her. Their was no 'try,' in what he was going to do. He wasn't going to 'try' to save her. No, he was going to save her. He needed to save her, not to save himself or his soul...but to save her. Primat already knew he was dead, maybe not physically, but emotionally now. He had failed her, and now she was dying in his arms.

He craned his head down, kissing Varas on her forehead. It wasn't a kiss of passion or of lust, no...absolutely not. Primat kissed Varas on her forehead to try and comfort her. And...it worked, somehow. He brought his head away from her forehead and he saw the sweetest thing. She smiled up at him and then her eyes closed. Primat brought two fingers to her neck, looking for a pulse soon after.

Their was nothing, no heartbeat. She...was dead, and it was his fault.

Primat cried out in anguish as his hands cradled her body. He had needed to save her, and he had even failed that. What use was he now if he couldn't save anyone, if he couldn't do anything? Their was no use for him anymore, he was completely hopeless now as tears streamed down his face.

...

And then, he heard footsteps behind him. And...their was Varas? Primat's now red, glacier blue eyes looked to the dead body of Varas...and then to the Varas who stood there now. She...isn't dead! No, no...this is all fake! Right? Primat didn't have to wait long until he got his answer as the living Varas charged him. He had not seen the knife in her hand. But he had felt it stab into his stomach and twist as it delved into his flesh. "You let me die, Primat! And...now you will too. I thought you cared about me, you told me I was more than just a clone. Now I see, you were just lying!" Then she backed off, leaving the knife in Primat's stomach. He didn't know what was real now. This, it's all fake, it has to be! You can't die and just come back like that!

"No, no. None of this is real! You're not real! You are not Varas, you're just a creation of that holocron meant to twist my mind and my fears against me. I know who Varas is, and I know who I am. I will never fail her. Their is no 'if' about it, I will never let her die because of me. I will always make sure that I will do all I am capable of and more, to save her." Primat groaned in pain as he pulled the knife from his body, but their was no blood. And then, everything fell to dust. He was brought back to the tomb, the light from the stormtroopers weapons and lights illuminating the room in a warm white light.

None of that, had been real.

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Praetorian Initiate
Objective II
Equipment | FO-07K Multi-purpose Assault Armour with Repulsorlift Technology, Vibrodaggers, Lightsaber & Training Lightsaber, DE-39 Maser Rifle, Throwing Knives, Binding Wires, Injector Pens filled with Lecepanine, C-25 Fragmentation Grenades
Location | Valley of Tombs, Praesitlyn
Allies | First Order, [member="Eighth Guard"], [member="Primat Ren"]
Status | Fragile

[SIZE=11pt]Marriskcal felt as though she was slowly drowning under the unceasing barrage of harsh words. With each breath she exhaled, the next breath she inhaled seemed to have decreased in capacity. Each and every single one of her deepest and darkest fears were verbalised and splayed out before her. All the small flaws and insignificant things that has flitted across her mind, but never dwelt on. By this point, the specter that haunted the holocron held such sway over the young blonde that it did not even need to craft a flawless act to ensnare her.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]It caused her to question everything she knew. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Every kind gesture.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Every playful quip.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Did she merely see what she wanted to see all this while[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The thought hurt.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Just when she was about to lose further hope, the sudden jarring movement of the false knight standing before her caught her attention. It was with unconcealed horror that she watched not-Eight asphyxiating before her eyes. Though it might have been an impostor, so long as it wore the shroud of someone she cared about, Marriskcal could not help the pain that cut through her as the false crimson-clad knight’s neck was snapped. But the presence that approached her was warm and familiar, strong and real unlike the shadow whose body was starting to dissipate and return to being a black tendril of smoke.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]If there was any doubt that the Praetorian Knight was yet another shroud, the manner in which he spoke her name washed away the final vestiges of her apprehension. In it, she could hear his concern, his relief, and a myriad of other unnamed emotions. Still feeling infinitely fragile, but still wanting to appear strong in front of her mentor even when the shadow’s words were still echoing in her mind, Marriskcal gave him a tenuous smile as she turned towards him.

“Eight.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Around them, the space began to disperse, all dark smoke and charcoal dust as the black receded and they were both once standing within the now bustling chamber once more. Marriskcal stepped closer towards her mentor, seeking comfort from being in his presence. But unlike her usual custom, the blonde initiate’s hand did not reach out to close around the knight’s own. “Thank you for coming to my aid.”[/SIZE]