Campaign Shadow Over the Rim: Eos

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Objective 2: Scorched Earth
Interacting with: Kasir Dorran Darth Nefaron
Nearby: Darth Strosius Varin Mortifer Lúthien Tinúviel Veradun Sharr

Soah didn't shift her stance, didn't flinch when Kasir's inky-tipped fingers came up, palm coolly extended outward with a subtle gesture.

Her amber eyes narrowed, but the shadows on her skin betrayed what she didn't show. She felt him brush her mind, a touch too deliberate to mistake. Her tail flicked, curious. Not a threat, no, not yet. But the Felacatian knew this power. He had taught it to her. Shown how it rips the mind, how it hurts, the information that could be gleaned. But he didn't dig. Instead, he lingered at the edges of her thoughts, skirting past the places she kept buried deep to graze over her intent and reasoning why she asked.

Curiosity. Respect. Kinship.

Yet even then, Soah could still smell it. That lie. It clung heavier than blood, threading through the chill calm he wore like armor. Her gaze held on him, that flat stare conveying more than what others might believe it relayed.

Indifference?

"No." The word left flat, even, as her gaze stayed locked on him. "I do not confuse it."

Her claws flexed once, carving shallow lines into her palms before relaxing again. Crimson beads formed in the welts, her blood joining those of many others in the air, and a single line of that crimson dribble slowly began to trace its way down her finger.

"Each word you choose carries weight...but the silence carries more." He did it on purpose. Always on purpose. Nothing from Kasir was careless. Not the silence. Not the distance. Not even the lie.

The shadows curled closer around her shoulders, smoke feeding on the tension, but she didn't look away, not even when the dilated pupils of his void black eyes mirrored her silhouette back at her. Not when his voice tried to push distance where she could smell the truth pressing closer.

She was considering her following words when the roar of engines and the hiss of hydraulics filled the hangar.

Legionaries spilled out in formation from the transport, and a new figure shrouded in the Darkside of the Force came striding in, Darth Nefaron igniting his crimson blade only to drip insults and threats with a wolfish grin.

Soah gave a tilt of her head, the long length of her braids brushing against her shoulders, turning just enough for her amber eyes to flick toward the Dark Lord, catching the gleam of his weapon and the natural stench of mutation clinging to his soldiers. The teenager gave them one slow, heavy blink. Then she looked away, as if the entire display hadn't been worth her time, returning to look up at Kasir Dorran .

"You lied. That's all."

She answered with stillness and a quiet patience that marked the steady shaping of the Acolyte that Kasir had been forging. The shadows along Soah's tattoos continued to stir like restless smoke, eager at the scent of new prey, but her gaze never strayed again.

It was Kasir's reply that mattered, not the theatrics of another Sith.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Objective 2: Scorched Earth
Tags: Soah Ty’Jyn Darth Strosius Darth Nefaron Varin Mortifer Lúthien Tinúviel Veradun Sharr

​

Kasir’s gaze narrowed; the inky shadows around him flattened, and so he focused entirely on her amber eyes. His head tilted a fraction; there was no warmth, only the acknowledgement that he heard her. A whisper of cold air drifted as he exhaled through his nose, though his chest didn’t move. It was then that he measured her conviction. Each syllable was like a piece upon a holo-chessboard. Everything was registered, from tension in the Felacatian’s throat, the exact pitch of her tone.

Nothing ever escaped his scrutiny.

Having tasted betrayal in so many confessions, it was easier to keep them hidden, so that he could bleed alone.

Silence wasn’t always absent from him; around Soah, his tongue had learned to uncoil more, a private lexicon of trust, forever conveyed in low tones. And now, his murmur rode the edge of the Force. “Better to drown in ignorance, than to suffocate from the weight of what I bear.”

When she spoke again, the corners of his mouth twitched; not in amusement, but to sample the taste of her accusation. A weight in his hollow chest tightened; his pale visage was still a mask. So he allowed the silence to stretch between them; his darkest weapon, after all, was letting her feel that pressure.

It was then another called to him, making his presence known, but he would not pivot on his feet, instead turning his head slowly. It was a voice that echoed of betrayal, a wound still fresh. After aiding in one’s selfish pursuit, Wonosa had been cast aside to the gutter.

With the same figure also serving as the master to his little brother, it cut twice as deep.

Nefaron’s treatment of Veradun became known, colder than the cruelest winter.

To betray Darth Strosius would be to sign his own death; his entire being was carved under the elder Sith's guidance; the very hand that shaped him.

Maybe that was why, from Jutrand’s gates to the Drosuti’s forge, Kasir truly believed himself invincible.

Soah labeling him a liar shifted his focus. Pupils dilated into voids, but it wasn’t because of her words. He leaned forward an inch, studying the trail of blood on her palm as if it were a map. Lips drained of warmth parted. "Truths are burdens," the Sangnir crooned, voice laced with honeyed venom, "and I shall bear them alone, my Soah, for they are far too heavy for you to grasp."

An old litany was whispered under his breath, as though to binding what remained of a ruined soul to steel.

He trusted the Felacatina's claws more than most he took arms with. But should finality be the price, let it be him that fed the altar. Another thread wove through the air, tracing back to his apprentice. <Stand at my flank, but do not let that rob you of hunger.>

Finally, he addressed the Dark Lord. “My blade thirsts only for what He wills."

A pause.

"It is not yours to command."

An ember burned cold in his ribcage. “I even gave you reverence, after New Cov. A rare thing, rarer from hands like mine.”

The world of Eos faded away as Kasir drew every stray thought inward, folding them into the Force. His breath stilled, and with a flex of his wrist, he released the stream of invisible tendrils. Each one was a thread of will, now sliding toward Nefaron's mind, poised to probe the faintest fractures in his defenses.

​

 

[Darth Nefaron]

OBJECTIVE: SCORCHED EARTH

SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: CRUSH THE ORDER OF WONOSA

DIRECT TAGS: Veradun Sharr , Kasir Dorran , Soah Ty’Jyn , Varin Mortifer

INDIRECT TAGS: Darth Strosius Delsin Shaw , Lúthien Tinúviel , Madrona A’Mia ,

"What a pathetic Sith he forged you into. Are you truly content to serve? You could rule, and yet instead you choose oblivion."

The Corpse Legionaires at Nefarons' side began to circle, vultures waiting to feed on their Master's scraps. From their vile helms came cruel laughter and nashing teeth. Yet they also carried with them fear, fear that they should live and fail Darth Nefaron and face an eternity of torment at his withered hands.

"Reverence? No, you feasted upon my scraps. You have allowed yourself to believe that you are on the cusp of immortality."
​

The Dark Lord felt the probing and prodding at the borders of his mind, a shadow hand seeking to reach into his very thoughts and dreams to weaken him, to bring him low, and make him all the easier prey. Kasir was powerful indeed, a being who had mastered his abilities and slain countless foes. He employed tactics that Nefaron might have used himself, but unfortunately for the so-called Phantom of Death, he would only glimpse a memory, a speck of pain and torment as the man who became the Corpse Lord lay dying, his flesh torn and his body broken. But Nefaron was not bothered by the sight; in fact, joyous laughter echoed from the mind of one Dark Lord to another as Nefaron pressed into Kasir's mind in kind.

Cruel words floated across the bridge they had forged, words carried by the Dark Side itself.

"How long before you are betrayed once more? If not your Apprentice, your High Prophet will cast you aside. Darth Strosius will see all who follow him die for the sake of his own vanity."
​

Nefaron's gaze turned then to the Apprentice, to the Felacatian who stood at Kasir's side and readied herself for battle. She was a weakness, one that would be exploited to test her Master's commitment. How delicious it would be to see her abandoned, to fall prey to the machinations of the Corpse Lord while her Master fled back to the High Prophet in shame. More than anything, Nefaron wished to see all who would remain loyal to Strosius suffer for their commitment. When the one true Dark Lord stood triumphant over the Order of the Wonosa, he would at last allow the fool to die knowing he had lost everything that he held dear.

Like Kasir was about to lose an Apprentice.​

The normally hunched and decrepit Corpse Lord began to straighten, bones craking and popping as decades of physical weariness were at last put aside. Nefaron had been careful to maintain his decrepit demeanor as a form of deception, but there was no need for that now. Instead, the dead eyes of the Terror Lord began to glow with the sickly yellow of a devotee of the Dark Side as he offered a final promise, but this time it was not to the Phatom of Death.

"I will eat your dreams. I shall drown you in fear."

Then there was movement, as Nefaron seemingly leaped forward with speed entirely unnatural for one such as him. His blade was raised high, ready to come down atop the Felacatian's head in a swift killing blow. Simultaneously, the Corpse Legionnaires pressed from all sides, terrible blades ready to inflict pain.

Nefaron could only hope that her Master would take the bait.​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Objective 2: Scorched Earth​

As Varin made his way through the halls of the building he caught a glimpse of strange flying creatures. A mass swarm. Nothing that the Wonosan’s used and certainly not these workers and mercenaries. As they flew past the windows of the building he was in, one of them seemed to get a glimpse of him. Shrieking it caught the attention of a few more as they collided into the glass. Varin watched as the glass began to crack under the pressure. Making a quick decision he ran for the end of the hall, if he stuck around to fight them off he surely would be outnumbered and picked clean, suboptimal for the mission at hand.

Darting forth with a burst of speed he heard the window shatter behind him. Quickly looking back he lobbed a couple of flaming spheres towards the living winged cloud. A few were caught in the blast but the numbers easily began to recuperate. He had to think fast, this data was extremely valuable and his crew needed his help asap.

Rounding the corner he stopped just by the heavy doors he entered from. Bracing his stance he outstretched both hands willing the force to close the doors. Slowly the doors creaked as if shrieking, straining to resist, but The Force was greater than these mundane structures. Slowly the doors began to shut as the creatures made their way to Varin. Some stopped just before the door slammed shut, others getting crushed by the heavy closing crevice.

For a moment he stopped to catch his breath as the shrieks and banging could be heard from inside. Varin snarled in their direction and continued making his way towards the battlefield. As he approached he noticed the flank firing upon the Wonosan’s and kept his head low, sneaking around to meet them from behind.

Moving to Obj 1: Too Hot to Handle

Sub Obj: Kill, Slaughter and Break the Traitorous Flank​

It took more time than he wanted, the approach was slow and quiet before he finally met them at their flanks.

Drawing his mace since it was quieter than his saber, one by one he began crushing these cowards. They too would know confusion and fear, Varin would drink it deep and feed upon it, fueling his fury. One began to scream to gather the attention of someone before his scream was cut short. Dark crimson splattering across the field further than his voice could travel. One by one these individuals were felled by Varin's blood lust. Any blasters that did hit him were mainly absorbed by his armor. Their bodies, armor and weapons crumpled like tin foil under the oppression of his mace.

Veradun Sharr​

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Objective 2: Scorched Earth
Interacting with: Kasir Dorran Darth Nefaron
Nearby: Darth Strosius Varin Mortifer Lúthien Tinúviel

My Soah.

Kasir's voice dripped with saccharine venom as he named truths as burdens. Her expression remained stoic, but her ears flicked back, and her tail gave a decisive flick and twitch at the end of it as she slightly narrowed her eyes.

Shadows tightened over her shoulders as his words pressed in, riding the edge of the Force, reverberating in the shells of her ears. So it was better to drown in ignorance than suffocate beneath the weight he bore?

The words grated. He had told her to seek knowledge of the ink across her skin, to learn what it was. Now he claimed the truth was a burden. That ignorance was better. It clawed at her patience.

He had seen her fight her own shifting. Why shouldn't she question his?

The irritation rippled through her tattoos, shadows stretching and curling, brushing the air like restless smoke. Words rose, but the moment slipped past as he sent his instructions to her.

Soah moved instead at his flank, stepping into place as commanded, for she didn't have to wait long.

The air shifted before the strike even fell. Soah's ears twitched, her nostrils flaring as the stench of rot and corrupted flesh flooded her senses, but she did not recoil.

So as the Corpse Lord's blade came down with the surity of a guillotine, the Felacatian's head tipped just enough for her amber eyes to catch the glow of his false vitality. Her answer came in motion, not words.

A surge of the Force ripped through her limbs as her hand shot to her hip. With a snap-hiss, crimson fire bloomed into a staff of light, both blades igniting in unison. Soah brought it up crosswise, the humming bar of plasma intercepting the killing blow, sparks hissing as metal met energy, casting a sanguine glow off the Felecatian's face as she snarled.

Her tail whipped at her back, shadows crawling over her shoulders in restless hunger as she bared sharp teeth in a low growl. The Legionnaires pressed close, but Soah shoved outward with the Force, a telekinetic blast that hurled the nearest pair backward into the debris strewn hangar floor.

Her voice cut through flat and deadpan even as her muscles thrummed with coiled violence, cutting through the clash.

"Try again."

With a pivot of her powerful legs, she attempted to shove the Corpse Lord's blade aside and spin the doublesaber in a brutal arc, its whirling light intending to carve a red halo between her and the encroaching horde.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Objective 2: Scorched Earth

Tags: Soah Ty’Jyn Darth Strosius Darth Nefaron Varin Mortifer Lúthien Tinúviel Veradun Sharr

​

His mind had been a fortress, and now it was under siege, the psychic bridge throbbing like a poisoned artery pulsing with the Terror Lord's cruel intent. Kasir felt his grip tighten, as if wielding an invisible scalpel to dissect the invading thoughts. So he sampled the bitter tang of that triumph like a delicacy, a spark of arrogance lighting the dark battlefield between their minds. Memories, sharp and raw, bled through that tether; there were fractured bones, flesh torn in death’s merciless grip.

Pain was the altar. Nefaron, the priest. But Kasir was the pale god beneath it all.

The Darkseeker inhaled the pain like sacred incense, drawing strength from the umbral depths. Around him, laughter clatters like fractured glass, yet he carved obsidian walls that would repel such mirth. Not all, but most. In this crucible of penumbral thought, every breath is a vow.
And as he reveled in the twisted beauty of his mind, there was no light for him, only an endless dance of shadow and pain.

Like a monolith of stone, he was planted deep into the floor of the hangar.

One hand was clutching the smoldering ember of restrained fury, the other weaving an unseen barrier of shadows that coiled like dark serpents poised to strike. Threads of midnight sheen crawl like spilled ink across his robes, hungry to spill into the yawning gap between minds, binding his will with the darkness.
The shadows did not scream. They waited. And in their waiting, they learned his name.

The Sagnir held his breath as part of an ancient ritual. No ripple passed his orbs, only the judgement of an executioner; they measured and calculated, taking note of every movement. A creeping chill floods his veins, thick and alive like black oil, bolstering statuesque.

Cold contempt bubbles beneath Kasir’s calm gaze, savoring the desperation that dripped like foul bait from Nefaron’s provocations. His attention quickly flits toward the Legionnaire, the smallest crack in the enemy’s armor, and he does not flinch or intervene; his unblinking hateful stare alone would tighten that noose. Shadows surge forth, not to kill immediately, but to suffocate and ensnare.

They were an invisible coil of death.

He felt the tremor when Nefaron’s blade grazed Soah’s, and in that fractured moment he channeled his will into the darkness within him. He sculpted it into a single obsidian filament and sent it hurtling across the gap toward the Corpse Lord’s mental barrier; this one was no wider than a nerve fiber, but as sharp as any blade.

<<Feast upon my death if you must. Dream of power if you will; but the nightmare I bring will rewrite your fate.>>

Strange it was, how their maneuvers echoed one another, but remained so far apart. He couldn’t deny the thrill of finally facing a foe worthy of the challenge.

​

 

[Darth Nefaron]

OBJECTIVE: SCORCHED EARTH

SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: CRUSH THE ORDER OF WONOSA

DIRECT TAGS: Veradun Sharr , Kasir Dorran , Soah Ty’Jyn , Varin Mortifer

INDIRECT TAGS: Darth Strosius Delsin Shaw , Lúthien Tinúviel , Madrona A’Mia ,

To the apprentice's credit, her deflection was well executed.

Blades clash, and the Dark Lord is forced to withdraw from the coming storm, though two Legionaries weren’t as lucky as their disfigured heads were removed from their bodies.

There came a whisper, a dagger of promise and dread that so enticed Nefaron. To feast on the Phantom would indeed be a treat, and to be bound in an endless nightmare even greater, there remained a greater calling.​

The Corpse Lord stumbled, for but a moment, but recovered and stood proud, little concern showing to the two dead servants and the other, who was experiencing a death so slow and agonizing that even Nefaron was impressed by it. The foul Terror Lord’s jaw cracked, and as it settled into a grin, cruel laughter filled the hangar as the remaining Corpse Legionnaires took pause at their opponent's power.

“You have been well trained, and I say this to master and apprentice. But this is not a battle that can be won.”

In a flash, a stream of cruel and terrible lightning leaped from Nefaron’s pale fingers and traveled toward the Phantom. This physical assault was followed up by a mental one as well, for the bridge the pair had formed became a stalemate of horrid visions and monstrous promises. For his part, the Corpse Lord was trying to find some hint of hidden misgivings, of fears long buried within the creature's mind. Indeed, creature was the word that Kasir had transcended beyond normal mortality, being granted power great indeed.

But it came at a cost, as all power did.

“What a beast you’ve become, Kasir. It’s so unfortunate that you took the easy path to power, for you have crippled yourself. But such possibilities! I would so enjoy confining you in darkness, denying you your life-blood to see what you might become.”

A picture of such a fate took shape over the mental bond, but Nefaron had spoken out loud and was very much focused on the Phantom's Apprentice.

“But what a joy it is to know that Kasir has taken a pet for an Apprentice! Come now, girl, why bother to hide what you are? Transform into the animal that you hide within, stop pretending you could ever be a true Dark Lord. Your Master will never teach you all that he knows, just as his High Prophet uses him as little more than a war hound, one that will be chained the moment he fails.”

This is what Nefaron enjoyed most, playing on fear and phobia, prodding at beings most hidden and guard secrets. His eyes seemed to bore into the young Felacatian's. To be under the gaze of the Corpse Lord was not pleasant in the best of times, but here? The mental bridge between the Terror Lord and Phantom weakened as a new mental assault was directed upon the Apprentice, but it was no scalpel that tested her defenses, but a battering ram that sought access to the deepest and most guarded sections of the girl's mind.

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

Objective: Too Hot to Handle
Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Tags: Delsin Shaw / Lúthien Tinúviel / Darth Nefaron / Varin Mortifer / Kasir Dorran / Veradun Sharr / Revna Marr / Soah Ty’Jyn / Madrona A’Mia
--------------------------------------------

The closing of the blast doors had been slowed but far from halted, Darth Strosius was almost literally digging His feet into the tracks just to allow one more squad to slip inside. The more Legionnaires that could get into the facility meant not only a quicker conquest of it but also a more decidedly safer one. Charging into prepared enemy positions was never ideal, especially in tight corners such as those inside the building, but such environments weren't at all unfamiliar to His soldiers.

Familiarity didn't negate danger however and they had lost enough troops already as it was. Surprisingly the blast doors did shudder to an even more grinding pace all of a sudden but the reason became clear when He cast a glance to the side to see the young Delsin propping up against the other side of the doors. "Don't be brash Mr. Shaw," The masked man muttered a curse in Sith under His breath. "I'd not risk you getting crushed just so that I could lead the assault within."

Yet with the mirror images that the younger Sith was summoning to aid in keeping the door open, Darth Strosius's own strength became less needed in favor of a more widespread hold. He shot a look back into the station as the sound of blaster fire and distant orders echoed down the hall, gritting His fangs together briefly before nodding and reluctantly pulling Himself away from the blast doors. "Your bravery is noted, do come by Eos anytime you have need of materials in the future Mr. Shaw."

With the arrival of Lady Madrona hopefully the external situation would be more manageable, between her, Revna, and Delsin as well as the Legionnaires still outside and Varin apparently enroute. :"Forgive my rude exit Lady Madrona, but I have some mercenaries to eliminate. We'll get the station open soon, everyone just hold the landing pads!": Reinforcements as well as the new technicians meant to repair and run the power station would be in dire need and without a proper landing zone their arrival would be too slow to be effective at all. With that Darth Strosius sped off into the station, His lightsaber illuminating the dark hall as He ran to join with the rest of His soldiers within.

:"And someone get me an update on Kasir Dorran, he should have reported in by now!":

 

[Veradun Sharr]

Objective One:
Mission: Make A New Friend
Gear: mentioned in first post

Direct Tag: Varin Mortifer
Others: Darth Strosius // Darth Nefaron // Madrona A’Mia // Revna Marr // Delsin Shaw // Kasir Dorran // Soah Ty’Jyn ​

Veradun kept up his assault, red blade flashing to either block errant bolts or cut through an opponent. He kept his emotions carefully cut off and numb; though he quite enjoyed killing and the mayhem that came with slaughter and war, putting a proverbial knife in the back of those he once served left a cold and hollow pit in his heart…or what remained of it.

All that mattered right now, was his Master’s approval. So long as he could please the Corpse Lord with his obedience and his performance, then he would gain what he sought after: knowledge and power. Things that he could utilize to one day overthrow the bastard. But until then…he had to do things he despised doing, things that went against his nature.

Like betrayal.

Somewhere, beyond his sight, the young Sangnir could feel a familiar tug within his undead heart, a sting of coldness from the carved sigils on his pale chest beneath his armor. His Sire was here, his brother.

The understanding of that gave Veradun a momentary pause in his killing spree, his head tilting to one side in a snappy fashion as he tried to ascertain where the elder Sangnir might be. There was a silent snarl behind Veradun’s mask; he did not like the idea of Kasir seeing him murder his own people. But they had to maintain the facade, and the former Nagai had warned Kasir that the next time they came across one another…it would be as “enemies”.

Veradun returned to the task at hand, ignoring his internal plight. His brother would understand, of that he was certain.

So wrapped up in the mayhem was the Sangnir, that he was unaware of an approaching threat…at least, not immediately aware. His sharpened hearing focused on the sharp screams of the Corpse soldiers at his back, which were quickly cut off. His other senses began to tingle, and Veradun turned to see the approach of a newcomer, someone who must have been aiding Darth Strosius and the Wonosans.

In quick and predatorial fashion, Veradun studied this new opponent who seemed to be having a merry time crushing the Corpse soldiers underneath a heavy mace. This individual was large and powerful, and fury and bloodlust practically rolled off of them in great waves. The Sith Apprentice felt his hidden face shift into a half smile; perhaps this would be a worthy foe to face?

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

​

Objective: Too Hot To Handle
Tags: Revna Marr | Darth Strosius | Kasir Dorran |
Soah Ty’Jyn | Varin Mortifer | Veradun Sharr |
Delsin Shaw | Darth Nefaron​

Under her watchful eye and ironwood will, the Qyazik Dziri worked with terrifying efficiency. A'Mia's forward momentum slowed as it took more of her focus to control the ravenous Sithspawn within her control. The beasts mowed a path of destruction where they unleashed an onslaught of psychic attacks and utilized their formidable blister traps.

The commotion caused by the neti and her creatures drew even more fire her way. This necessitated pulling her minions in closer to defend her otherwise fairly exposed physical form. Along with the mental strain of coordinating so many individuals, the damned suit she wore was too restrictive for her otherwise very fluid fighting style.

"Forgive my rude exit Lady Madrona, but I have some mercenaries to eliminate. We'll get the station open soon, everyone just hold the landing pads!"

"And someone get me an update on Kasir Dorran, he should have reported in by now!"

So thoughtful, A’Mia mused cheerfully even as an opponent squelched terribly beneath the paralytic stinger of her largest Qyazik Dziri

She might have worried after dear Revna Marr but it seemed the woman and her Prophet had matters well controlled where they were, provided things at the neti’s location remained within her influence. It seemed the time had come for phase two of her battlefield control. Though risky, she felt that enough Wonosa forces had made it away from her area that it was worth unleashing her next round of pets.

Reaching into yet another pocket of her clunky envirosuit, A’Mia drew forth another half dozen ferrus spheres. A pack of ravenous Maelridae sprung forth, all gnashing teeth and ripping claws. These beasts were not going to be so simple for her to puppet, so A’Mia merely unleashed them and sent a jolt of psychic energy at their heels to reinforce that she was the biggest, baddest predator in the surrounding area. They’d find no feast in her flesh, best for them to hunt amongst the already rattled field of enemy forces.

Once done, the neti stilled again and her body began to enter a state of torpor— practically rooting herself to the spot as her mind unfurled across the brutal landscape. She was searching for one mind in particular, even as she continued to puppet the first round of Sithspawn. He was familiar to her, though only just and her knowledge of him was still very limited.

There…

Kasir Dorran

Embroiled in some metaphysical challenge of his own.

Cautiously, the neti approached with a feather light touch. Unwilling to expose her proverbial flank to whoever or whatever the man tangled with, her mind reached his like a whisper on the wind. While she had very little additional strength to lend, given that her own will was so thoroughly taxed elsewhere, A’Mia bolstered him with a small surge of Darkness as she passed along the message.

Your Prophet asks after you, Kasir. Shall I pass word to him?​

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Objective 2: Scorched Earth
Interacting with: Kasir Dorran Darth Nefaron
Nearby: Darth Strosius Darth Nefaron Varin Mortifer Lúthien Tinúviel

Soah's ears twitched back, the weight of the Corpse Lord's voice crawling beneath her skin like a thousand maggots looking to feed. The Felacatian's jaw set, but his words: pet… beast… your master will never teach you all he knows … all scraped along nerves she'd thought hardened under Kasir's tutelage. The Felacatian had trained with the Darkseeker to keep her mind armored, to work on holding her mental shields firm even when hyperspace itself clawed at her instincts. She had done her best to learn to wrestle down the pull to shift, to cage the predator when metal walls and the screaming blur of hyperspace made her bones ache.

But Darth Nefaron knew where to press.

The taunt landed like claws through fur, combining Kasir's withholding, just as he again with his warform as he had done before when the stench of another, Veradun Sharr had permeated the shuttle she'd considered home, the blood slave he'd kept hidden, the room where he invited others but didn't offer it to her, a bleeding of shadows of truths buried too deep. The irritation that had already been smoldering from his silence became kindling, and the Terror Lord's Dun Moch blew across it like dry wind through flame. Her tattoos writhed, shadows uncoiling like restless smoke as irritation flared into fury. Amber eyes narrowed to slits, tail lashing before restraint snapped.

With a guttural snarl, Soah's shadows stretched higher, feeding on the anger as she hurled a telekinetic blast that attempted to shove Darth Nefaron back, driving forward as her attention snapped in an arc of crimson fire against the legionaries closing on her flank. One Legionnaire fell cleaved through and another shrieked as her razor sharp claws raked across his helm as the predator inside refused to stay chained. She didn't care for finesse, only violence and release.

"Not. A. Pet!" she spat, her voice flat but edged with a hiss that flashed the curve of her sharp fangs.

The air around her rippled as her shadow stretched over her dusky skin, the sentient ink curling higher, clutching and tearing at the Legionnaires as if her very presence wanted to consume their every drop of emotion that saturated the scene with the glutinous relish of a Mnggal-Mnggal. She drove herself into the clash, reckless in her wrath, hurling another blast of kinetite telekinetic force that sent the nearest troopers crashing onto large metal melting furnaces that sent charred, metallic, greasy scent of burning meat into the air as hot metal poured over their thrashing forms.

Soah's body fought without pause but her mind still burned under the sting of Kasir’s and Nefron’a words, her chest heaving with every breath, nostrils flaring in turn. She had wanted the truth from Kasir, but all she could do now was drown in the flood of emotions as her shadows wrapped her in smoke and hunger as she tore into the next foe.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin glared at the armored individual who seemed to be hacking up fellow Wonosans behind their back. A growl escaped his throat as he pointed his mace towards him.

“You!”

The end of the mace lit aflame as he kept it pointed towards the assailant.

“You had better explain yourself. Your own blood?”

Quickly he slung the mace to the side and with a sickening squelch the end bore itself into the face of an incoming corpse soldier. He shifted the mace and flung the body towards his opponent as he then began to charge towards him.

Like a blur of an incoming boulder the already surrounding heat seemed to get hotter in Varin’s presence as he charged through any gunmen in front of him.

“An act of cowardice that I despise!”

He landed just in front of him and quickly reached out to grab his throat.

Veradun Sharr​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Objective 2: Scorched Earth
Tags: Soah Ty’Jyn Darth Strosius Darth Nefaron Varin Mortifer Veradun Sharr

​

Incessantly, the other Sith's mind pressed against his own, a warped ring of night, wriggling into every crevice, flaying his psyche into a cold plain. The Darkseeker eagerly welcomed him into such terrain. Here, thought was molten, every move precise. His mental presence was not a wall, but a labyrinth of jagged spires, like the outcrops of Mustafar. If one did not tread carefully, they would learn the ridges here were sharper than a knife. Every turn had the potential of becoming a trial. Many had entered, but none ever escaped, funneled into dead ends, where their will was ripe for the taking.

With the Mind Probe as his tool, he too would drive further into the caverns of the Corpse Lord's mind, savoring each horrific thought like a connoisseur sampling a fine vintage. Fear made his senses tingle as he moved through the gnawing threats of paranoia and betrayal. Doubts tried to flood his palate, sharp and akin to the taste of sustenance that so often lingered upon the tongue.

Amidst that chaos he saw a memory of himself as a boy, cold and ragged on the streets of Dromund Kaas. The one the Empress had seen on Echnos, the one that haunted him time and again. But it did not break him, even if it caused him to strain, like a weapon testing armor.

The only visible sign of this internal struggle was the furrow of his brows.

In an attempt to hold the line for the other Darkseeker, he allowed the Corpse Lord's presence to seep deeper. All memories lay bare, waiting for him to indulge: the Kainite blood slave on Mustafar, defiled in the secrecy of his chambers, a ritual repeated; the deviations from his own doctrine; the recent fracture of trust with Soah.

He let them hang in the air like bait.

Preparing a defensive trap, he chose not to meet the cognitive incursions head on. Instead, he let them slide into the pockets of his consciousness, psychic dead-ends where some would potentially collapse. Others served for a rebound effect, sending the Corpse Lord's own force back at him in jagged shards. Kasir thrived here, for so many Sith and Jedi alike believed dominance was muscle, a blade, something of a spectacle.

The Sangnir knew better.

The mind was the true battlefield.

And here he was sovereign, even against this worthy opponent.

His stare became that of spectral malice, searing through the air as it returned to his apprentice. He not only heard Soah's distress but saw it etched into her being, a pulsing ache, scarring him in ways no foe had ever managed.

A slow, controlled exhale through his flared nostrils followed. His lips parted just enough to form the "S" of her name.. until a sudden surge of mental pressure forced his mouth shut, preventing any words that may have taken shape.

His discipline held unscathed, unable to break this mental duel. A low hum in the Force, an impression of her name, slithered forth, a whisper in the Felacatian’s mind. It wasn't a command, nor was it a warning. It was an acknowledgement, just his way of trying to say I see you.

For reasons unbeknownst to him, another voice tore through him like a lethal scream. Perhaps that was why the reply cut in, sharp and clipped like icicles.

<<Hangar. Nefaron.>>

A storm of rage, summoned by the cadence of the Lord Seer, ignited his blood like the infernos of Eos. This heat could consume even the coldest of hearts.

His jaw clenched tight, grinding his teeth together. Another tendril of thought traveled through the currents, slick with acid.

<<The river of fire calls to you, with open arms. Let it consume you, for it hungers.>>

 

[Veradun Sharr]

​

Objective One
Direct Tag: Varin Mortifer
Others: Darth Nefaron // Darth Strosius // Kasir Dorran // Soah Ty’Jyn // Delsin Shaw // Madrona A’Mia ​

“You!”

Veradun turned to face his new opponent, who was pointing their weapon at him - a weapon which ignited into flame. Behind the visor of his mask, pale eyes narrowed as the Sangnir took stock of the young Sith warrior near to him. He was tall, a little bit taller than Veradun was, but definitely more muscular and built.

“You had better explain yourself. Your own blood?”

For a moment, Veradun was silent, ignoring the cries of battle and death around him; occasionally he would sense a bolt coming towards him, and it would almost look as if he shivered, having moved faster than the eye could track to avoid the errant blaster bolts. Sometimes it looked as if he hadn’t moved at all, and yet not a single plasma shot touched him - even with his back turned and his focus elsewhere.

The Sangnir tilted his head at the newcomer as he pondered the words, and watched with fascination as the mace in his opposite’s hand crushed yet another Corpse Soldier. They were fodder and meant nothing to him - a food source, if he was truly desperate. A meat shield, if he wanted it. Playthings to toy around with and torment as he saw fit.

Veradun’s raging opponent charged through the various Corpse Soldiers that dared to get in his way, but the former Nagai stood his ground - even as the temperature around him began to rise.

“An act of cowardice that I despise!”

Veradun felt his lips curl into a dead smile, hidden behind the mask he wore, even as his opponent reached out a hand to grip his throat. The Sangnir didn’t even look like he moved, and yet he did - just enough that the challenger’s hand slipped past him, never finding purchase. Yes, attacking those whom he once called family behind their backs was an act of cowardice, but he would do anything and everything in order to achieve his goals and ambitions.

“ ‘Your own blood’ ? All I see is a weakness, one I am not bound to any longer.” Veradun said to his challenger, his voice slipping past the mask, deep and base-like yet holding a certain quality to it that was dangerously disarming, or would be for those of lesser or weaker minds.

A lie, mostly.

Somewhere here, beyond his sight, was Kasir. His brother. His blood.

On this field of battle, Kasir was the only life Veradun wished to preserve if possible. Even with the knowledge that his sister lived and was right there, it did not matter. Nothing mattered except the bond between Sire and fledgling. But here, he couldn’t reveal it, couldn’t abide by it.

The lightsaber in Veradun’s had flashed in a thrust towards his opponent, more of a test than a true attack. Poking and prodding to see what this new contender would do, or say, in response.

“If you truly want to be strong, then you will do what I did and break your chains." A pause as he shifted slightly, still reading his challenger. "...You seem like someone’s dog, though. Maybe you like being leashed and chained…”

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Objective One

“ ‘Your own blood’ ? All I see is a weakness, one I am not bound to any longer.”

Varin glared at his opponent as his hand slipped right past him. He was a lot faster than he had expected. But knowledge was knowledge, and he soaked in that bit of learning. Storing it in his mind for any possible confrontation.

“Is that a fact, slug?”

A flash of his opponent's saber shot forth towards him, Varin gripped the blade in his hand like a vice, shifting his arm to redirect the blow away from him. His fist tightened around the saber as it hissed. Trying to burn through something so stubborn.

His opponent spat back with what appeared to be an insult. But all Varin did was smirk.

“Even chained dogs bite.”

His voice was low and deep.

Boy, something is different about this one. Something quite odd. I would remain on your guard.

Ignati’s advice radiated into Varin’s mind. The words caused Varin to grip his opponent's weapon even tighter. His smoldering back began to light aflame as his eyes grew colder. Small arcs of lightning began to arc between his fingers.

“Something that a lot of people tend to forget. That even if you let a dog off of its chain that's built for war, it still has the capability to rip and tear its prey.”

Veradun Sharr​

 

[Veradun Sharr]

Objective One
Direct Tag: Varin Mortifer
Others: Darth Strosius // Darth Nefaron // Soah Ty’Jyn // Kasir Dorran // Madrona A’Mia

​

“Is that a fact, slug?”

Veradun smiled in amusement, the sight hidden behind the helm he wore. “ ‘Slug’ …I don’t think I’ve ever been called something so nice. Is that the best you can do with insults?” he responded back softly at the growly voice of his slightly taller opponent. Veradun was used to his Master, used to the insults of the Legion. Very little truly disturbed him…except perhaps being outright called dishonorable. He knew he was, and that it was anathema to him and his former Nagai kind, but it was something that still irked him.

“Even chained dogs bite.” the taller Sith said in a low voice as he grabbed Veradun’s crackling saber blade in hand; the Lowblood let his foe grip the weapon for a moment longer, noticing how the other Sith’s back seemed to radiate heat then was set aglow with flame. Arcs of lightning began to appear in his hand, and the smile on Veradun’s face grew even more. With a flip of his thumb, the blade that his opponent was holding would disappear with an angry hiss, and in the next moment, Veradun was no longer in front of him.

“Something that a lot of people tend to forget. That even if you let a dog off of its chain that's built for war, it still has the capability to rip and tear its prey.”

“Of course it does. It was bred for war. It is all that it knows. I know quite well what a chained animal can do…” Came the Sangnir’s almost whispered words, slithering through the space behind his opponent as he reignited the lightsaber, its position in a low guard. There was more caution in Veradun’s movements; behind the helm’s darkened visor, his pale blue eyes eyed the flames that seemed to erupt from his opponent’s back warily.

“...What keeps you chained to them?”

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Objective one

“Maybe you are simplifying my insult a bit. What I mean is you are but a bottom feeder. Living off the scraps of those above you. Cowering behind the shadows of your humiliation. Forever slithering in the slime and grime and refuse of the ground. So low on the totem pole that you are seen as harmless. You call me a chained dog? It is better to be a dog than to be a nothing surviving on others scraps. A creature of no honor.”

Varin’s back spewed smoke as it trailed to his opponents feet. One by one smoking clones of Varin appeared around him speaking in unison.

“What chains me? You ask?”

Varin paused for a moment as he slowly turned to face his surrounded opponent.

“Only myself.”

The flames from his back licked down to the floor snaking a wide arc around the two opponents. Flames erupted around them in a ring, wide enough to also entrap some of the other Wonosans and Corpse legion in it as well.

Varin slowly pulled out the hilt of his saber, and with a violent roar the blade came to life, alabaster white shone at first throughout the blade before it started to bleed maroon, slowly the loud sound graduated to a deep hum.

“They give me orders, and I deal with them how I see fit. And right now, I want your blood splattered all over this floor. I will not ask again. What is your purpose here?”

His voice graduated louder almost like a thundering boom pointed at his opponent as he lifted his heavy saber and pointed it towards the traitor.

Veradun Sharr​

 

[Darth Nefaron]

OBJECTIVE: SCORCHED EARTH

SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: CRUSH THE ORDER OF WONOSA

DIRECT TAGS: Veradun Sharr , Kasir Dorran , Soah Ty’Jyn , Varin Mortifer

INDIRECT TAGS: Darth Strosius Delsin Shaw , Lúthien Tinúviel , Madrona A’Mia ,

Pet. Beast. Slave.

Was the girl not all of these things?
​

It mattered little what Kasir had told her. She had been made a puppet of his designs, fed lies and false platitudes by one who himself is enslaved to the will of another. The Terror Lord had made no secret that Veradun was a servant until the day he was strong enough to bring down his master, and that day may never come. But was that not better than allowing the poor girl to fester and rot under the weight of hidden truth and false platitudes? Nefaron did not doubt that the Phantom of Death was indeed powerful, but to serve as a master? It appeared he had neglected his duties if this beast succumbed so easily to Nefaron's prodding.

For his part, Nefaron did allow himself to be flung backward by the raging creature, now fully unshackled from the bonds of sanity and consumed by rage. He landed on his feet, grin spreading across his broken maw as he watched the last of his soldiers become little more than playthings for the unleashed apprentice. Kasir was not idle; each second, he was prodding at Nefaron's mind while simultaneously attempting to reach his Apprentice, though the Corpse Lord kept up his own mental assault to ensure the Apprentice was simply uncontrollable. To the girl, this great and terrible darkness, Nefaron offered sharp mockery, but he also introduced something far more dangerous.

"He will place you in chains. He will use you as a tool. A rabid animal fit only for slaughter."

A tendril. A whisper.

"Break your chains, Soah. Kill him."
​

Perhaps she would. Perhaps she would regain her sanity and return to her master's side. But Nefaron saw her fear, her doubt, and he had made sure to play every single note of the terrible song that made her into the creature she was now. If he had more time, she might be turned to the Corpse Lord's side, yet another lost child bound to the dark will of the Shogun of Sorrow.

But he had little time.

Nefaron extinguished his weapon and sank into darkness, his terrible gaze now fixed on Kasir. Oh, how the Sangnir desired his blood, to see his corpse cast into the lava flow and lost to time.

Nefaron delighted in robbing him of that pleasure.

"It is a pity that I lack the time to break you, Kasir. But I will leave you with a parting gift."

As if on command, a swarm of horrid flying creatures flooded the hangar, blasters and claws ready for their terrible work. Yet Nefaron had more to say to the Phantom before he carried on.

"Should you live, deliver my message to your High Prophet. Tell him of my treachery, tell him that he is a relic of a bygone age, and it is I who will cast him to the void. His people shall be bound in servitude forever, and it will be my vision that will see the Sith take this galaxy. Our revenge, Kasir, is at hand; unfortunately, you stand in my way."

The creatures swarmed, now targeting both the master and the apprentice in two separate groups. It was this chaos that would see Nefaron, cloaked in darkness, slip by with unnatural speed to move deeper into the facility. If he could not gain from this assault, he would certainly destroy anything Darth Strosisus may use in the coming war. Truly, it was magnificent to at last reveal himself, to openly war with one he viewed as incompatible in the coming future Nefaron envisioned. The loss of Kasir was unfortunate, but in the end, a Sith had but two options.

Domination or Death.

The Phatom made his choice. ​

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Objective 2: Scorched Earth
Interacting with: Kasir Dorran Darth Nefaron
Nearby: Darth Strosius Varin Mortifer Lúthien Tinúviel Madrona A’Mia Veradun Sharr


The words dug at her like claws.

He will place you in chains. He will use you as a tool. A rabid animal fit only for slaughter.

Soah's ears pinned flat, a low growl vibrating in her chest. The Corpse Lord's voice pressed into her skull like broken glass, each word a shove against the fragile cracks she had been holding together, blood starting to trickle from her nostril as she fought against it. The hangar reeled in her senses, sizzling durasteel, the stink of blood and ash, the shriek of blaster fire. Shadows writhed across her skin, her ink stirred and restless, feeding on the rage that boiled up.

Then, Kasir.

A low hum in the Force, cool and sharp. Not a command. Not even a warning. Just a presence, slithering into her mind with the faintest whisper:

Soah.

A heartbeat, and every memory of him surged at once. His fingers in her hair, braiding it tight. His voice shaping silence into lessons. THe cold press of his presence when she faltered. And then:

I see you.

THe Felacatian's claws flexed on the hilt of her saber, blood slicking her palms as her amber eyes narrowed into feral slits. The doublebladed crimson spun in her hands, a storm of fire and predator's fury. Legionnaires fell in pieces beneath her, their fear spilling into the Force like a scent she could taste.

"You won't chain me," she hissed out with the flashing of sharp teeth.

Even then, Nefaron's mockery tried to sink deeper, Kill him, break your chains, but the whisper that clung to her mind was stronger. Kasir's imprint coiled like iron through her thoughts. The Felacatian's snarl rolled out, guttural, as she sprang. Her legs pistoned powerfully, driving her high into the air, the saber trailing arcs of crimson light before she crashed down into the swarm of creatures flooding the hangar.

Wings tore, claws broke, her shadows lashing out like smoke with teeth, dragging a single horror from the air and crushing them to the floor. The screech of rended durasteel echoed, drowned by the hum of her blades as she deflected a volley of blaster bolts. She then pivoted onto the next, tail whipping through the storm, each movement wild yet sharpened by Kasir's mark still burning in her chest.

Soah was fury -- but she was not lost.

Nefaron could cackle, vanish into his darkness, slip away on promises and lies, but she would remember this. The hiss of her saber, the crash of broken wings, and that one whisper in the din of it all.

I see you.

And she fought all the harder because of it.

 

[Veradun Sharr]

Direct Tags: Varin Mortifer
Others: Darth Strosius // Kasir Dorran // Soah Ty’Jyn // Madrona A’Mia // Darth Nefaron ​

His foe’s words slithered into Veradun’s ears, worming their way into his mind. He had simplified the insult leveled against him? Hardly. He cowered behind the shadows of his humiliation? Laughable. He was so low that he was harmless?

A low and dark chuckle rolled from Veradun’s chest, his opponents' words and insults only making him smile further in amusement. The chuckle faded, however, when his foe called him a creature of no honor. Veradun let those words pierce through and settle within him…for his rival was right.

He had no honor. It had been sacrificed on the altar to power.

“Honor is for fools, and has no place amongst the Sith. A lesson you will learn in time as well, if you live that long.” The Sangnir rumbled in response, his voice low and coiling like a serpent.

Hidden eyes warily and curiously traced the smoke that continued to billow from the other Sith’s back - a strange sight indeed. He only became more intrigued as smoke figures that resembled Veradun’s foe appeared, and all seemed to speak with the same voice as they surrounded the two of them. What sort of dark sorcery was this?, the Sangnir thought to himself as he paced around his foe slowly, never taking his eyes off his enemy.

Veradun tilted his head at the response the other gave him, as flames suddenly erupted and formed a wide circle around them both, sealing them off from aid on both sides. A mortal fear pierced through Veradun at the sight of the flames, but he showed no outward sign of that dread. Fire was anathema to Sangnirs, but he couldn’t allow his foe to catch wind of that. Not with his ability to seemingly control fire at his whim.

The former Nagai watched in predatory silence as his foe withdrew his own saber, the plasma blade igniting with a roar that drowned out even the crackle of flames and the cries of those dying all around them. The blade was white…unusual for a Sith, to say the least, but the Lowblood watched with some measure of awe as it bled into a deeper blood red hue.

“They give me orders, and I deal with them how I see fit. And right now, I want your blood splattered all over this floor. I will not ask again. What is your purpose here?”

Once again, a cruel smirk curled on the Lowblood’s face, though it was still unseen by his opponent. He wanted his blood splattered all over the ground? How quaint. Veradun eyed the saber leveled at him, imagined how it would feel to have it thrust through his chest, through his heart that no longer beat.

“What is my purpose?” Veradun repeated slowly in a drawl, glancing around them at the destruction and death. “...mercy is my purpose.” he responded with a whisper. “Would you rather your brethren be enslaved again? That is the fate that awaits them, should my Master claim these souls for himself. Death is a mercy, for in the void they will truly be free.”

Of course, he’d been commanded to kill his own, and he had obeyed his Master. No doubt, Darth Nefaron would be pleased with him. Veradun glanced around the ring of fire that surrounded them both, and took stock of his opponent. More Wonosans were coming, flooding the area. Soon he would be overwhelmed. He was not here to get himself killed before his true purpose had come to pass.

“I am afraid your wish to see my blood splattered on the ground will have to wait.”

Through the ring of flames, Veradun’s pale eyes landed upon a group of Wonosans who had finally flooded the area to provide back up against him and Nefaron’s forces. Another cruel smile pulled at Veradun’s lips as he reached out through the Force to touch the minds of those around himself and his foe. In the next instant, those loyal servants of Darth Strosius beyond the other Sith would feel the crushing might of Veradun’s mind upon their own as he silently unleashed a powerful Sith spell upon them. The weak minded fell without much resistance to his mind control, and into their psyche he whispered a command that could not be disobeyed.

-Kill him. Do not stop until he is dead-

Veradun was curious to see what would remain of his opponent’s honor, when he was forced to kill those he served alongside, just to save his own life.

Just before the Sangnir made the leap to clear the circle of flames and put distance between himself and his foe, Veradun gave one final and somewhat cryptic message to his rival:

“Do tell my dear sister Revna and the High Priest that Veradun says hello, will you? If they want to know the truth of what became of me, then they should ask the Darkseeker.”

And with a great leap, aided by his Sangnir strength and the power of the Force, Veradun leapt over the ring of flames, watching as they curled harmless over his armor as he passed through them to land on the other side. With unhurried steps, he retreated to one of his Master’s ships, cutting down anyone who dared to impede his pathway before turning around only to watch the carnage unfold as mind-dominated Wonosans flung themselves upon his rival, hell bent on carrying out his orders to their last breath.

An echo of pain, felt deep within the soul, rippled its way through the young Sangnir. This was not what he wanted, not what he had asked for. But the die had been cast, and his life and service was bound to a cruel and hated Dark Lord. There would be no forgiveness for him here, of that he was certain.

His bridges with his sister, and his former High Priest, were burned.

It was a steep price to pay for power, but it was a price he was willing to pay.