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"You can't be bloody serious," deadpanned Aerys as she sidestepped to look past the Jedi's face, "you stupid, fooking Alliance-types, haven'ta changed a goddamn bit since me cousin Natasi ran the Order, have ya?"
Aerys sighed, exhaled with exasperation really as she swapped her blaster for a scattergun, one that looked as if it had been used in the old war. "Com' march'n on down 'ere l'ke I don't already know that I'm swimmin' up to me neck in Mawite sacks. You, with the bloody fookin' glowstick and the bloody Force with powa to quite literally push these fookin' bastards back up the stoopid hill, but - NO. NO! YOU STOOPID JED-AIS HAVETA COME STOMPIN' ON'ERE EH?"
She was really irritated, "men hold the line, give me a moment and I'll tryta knock some bloody sense into this one."
"I might as well be relivin' me history books, is this Kaeshana all over again? Are you gonna start attackin' me medics too?" She cocked the scattergun and leaned to her left, "by the by your stoopid troops can't bloody see the mawites on yer left." On instinct, Aerys reflectively turned the gun to her left and shot a cultist dead in the face. "Aren't ya supposedta hav'a spidey-sense or somethin' or otha tell you about the bloody danger. So how about you get out of me way, so I can finish off these Mawites."
She wouldn't get the chance to keep talking as she could hear her men shout. "Ochima!"
"PROSPERIA! THREE-FIVE!" Aerys shouted in return stepping back and away from the Jedi. "Get a cannon on that bloody walker and open up the lines on those vehicles."
Aerys turned over and looked at the still-standing Jedi with their precious corps. "Yew gonna get yer balls out and start whackin' these bastards or just stand there lookin' plain as sherry in a glass?" She scoffed, "came all the way 'ere with yer bloody glowstick, wot? Did ya need to up yer kill count? Got a quota of bucketheads to throw into a grinder? Bloody 'ell it's the Order and the Alliance all over again, ta- really is, no one learns a damn thing, stoopid bastards."
The cross of accents leaning on one another in the high stress situation. She reported over to her own boss, "Barran, 313th 1st- we've got company a Jedi and some alliance types, you know anyone with a fancy Knight that can handle this?" The sidebar conversation would have to wait the screaming sound of dive bombers sent the private scrambling for cover. Aerys really hated the Alliance right now, how fookin' stoopid, send a Jedi with a bunch of troopers to have some tea? As if Tython wasn't imploding on itself as they spoke.
Stim pumped through Siv's veins, his senses heightened to an almost inhuman level. Such high saturation of the drug was very harmful over long periods of time and would take weeks of rehabilitation before all the side effects wore off, but it was moments like these -- these life-saving moments -- where Siv was content to sacrifice some of his sanity so he could stay alive.
He'd beaten Voltura to the spear, that at least was kept out of the Sith's hands. But the Malkite-Themfar had not hit its mark, or else the Sith would be convulsing on the ground instead of dashing at him with Force-enhanced speed. The blaster bolts had left scorch marks across the Sith's face but otherwise, the dark lord was unharmed, only angered by the temporary pain. Siv tightened his grip around his spear, subtly shifting his footing in anticipation as the Sith neared. In real-time, the movements of both were blurs, but with their heightened senses, everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. "I know you want it," Siv growled lowly, low enough that he wasn't even sure if the Sith could hear, the muscles in his neck tightening as his prey neared. "Come and get it."
But then the Sith stopped and made an unexpected move, seeming to draw on the Force around him. The Mandalorian could not recognize what the Sith's moves were, but he felt the same unnatural, almost yearning feeling from the Resa'geriuvr gauntlet at his wrist. The sensation distracted him, and suddenly Siv was thrust upwards into the air. Caught off-guard, he refused to yield advantage to the Sith; his reflexes increased greatly by the stim that was running through his veins, he awkwardly somersaulted mid-ai and thrust the spear into the ground, using it as a counterforce to quickly bring himself down to earth on one knee.
The Sith had closed the gap in seconds and swung his lightsaber, but instead of beheading the Mandalorian, it dashed against the beskar jetpack, sending sparks into the air. Siv rolled as he impacted, coming to his feet in a fluid motion mere inches from his opponent. As he rolled, he slashed at the Sith with his own counterattack: Devaronian blood poison-tipped beskar vibrospines extended from his left gauntlet, as deadly as a kal knife except that if the poison should come into contact with flesh, it would leave the victim with a parting gift of extremely excruciating pain. The slash was an entire cross-body cut, while Siv pulled the spear free from the ground with his right hand to jab at the Sith again, butt-end first, hoping that the kinetic impact would knock the wind out of his opponent.
The Quartermaster listened silently with pursed lips as the Chancellor declared his terms, feeling anger rise in her core. The representatives from the Eternal Empire beat her to the response, but she was only half-surprised when the two warring nations seemed to agree on one thing: that the Chancellor's terms were not only unacceptable but outrageous. A woman from the Ashlan Crusade added to their chorus, while the Quartermaster remained silent. If the galaxy were not at stake, she would've been inclined to withdraw Mandalorian in protest, but necessity urged that they cooperate.
The ex-Chancellor, Adhira Chandra, countered with a speech that held all the gaudy trappings of a politician, fitting for a Senator.
"The Mandalorian Enclave will be at Tython," she announced after the room had gone silent from the ex-Chancellor's impassioned plea. The Quartermaster kept her voice neutral and restrained herself from any tonal inflictions that would indicate the raging sea of emotions within her. No one at the table could see her behind the helmet. No one saw the real her. "In our culture, every Mandalorian death demands reprisal. And the Sith have accrued a great debt."
"But," she added, emphasizing her next words, "Allow me to make myself clear. We do not come only to be sacrificed as frontline cannon-fodder by the Galactic Alliance. We will fight the Sith on our terms. And if that means trampling all over your sacred Jedi world, then so be it. As far as we are concerned, this war is another derivative of the multi-millennia-long feud between two Force cults vying for supremacy; the Jedi's culpability in the rampant destruction of the galaxy is just as much as the Brotherhood of the Maw's. We do not pity the destruction of ancient temples and dusty artifacts if it means saving the rest of the galaxy."
"Further -- we will agree to cooperate with Alliance High Command, and to the terms of ceasefire should others honor it, but Mandalorians answer to no one but our own. If you find these terms unacceptable," she finished, no longer able to keep the iron out of her voice, "if these terms are unsatisfactory to your liking, then feel free to file a complaint to our Kestri offices."
"We fight the Sith at Tython, on our terms. Whether we will be forced to fight the Alliance as well? That is your decision." She crossed her arms in a display of finality, her mind decided.
As Heaven erupted in cleansing fire, the sky rained down it’s vengeance without impunity or regret. Ashla’s surface had been torn asunder, ripped apart by the Will of the Sith’ari. Her reckoning had disrupted the balance further, allowing Bogan’s metaphysical domain to spread nearly unchecked to every corner of Tython.
Each vergeance was now threatened, each nexus point tainted by the encroaching dark. The imbalance would not be tolerated for long before Tython herself reacted in horror, spewing forth volcanic fire and ash into the already-scorched sky. The battle ground was now a scene from an apocalyptic nightmare. A terrible dream wracked by endless violence, earth and fire thrown endlessly across the sky, and fierce unnatural storms crackling amidst it all.
The sacred mount of Akar Kesh had been pummeled by debris cast out from Ashla’s wound. All around him the sound of crashing rock against the once pristine temple grounds resonated violently. Through the smoke and rubble he traversed forward unafraid of the falling skies. His march was one of finality, intent on ending this battle against all those who long had opposed him.
His image slowly vanished into the veil cast by the raging storm, his eyes glimpsed upward as fire and ash spewed forth from Tython’s body. The Dark Lord stated emotionlessly into the shrouded distance as the radiant glow of the volcanic eruption from afar lit up the horizon. His eyes focused in on his surroundings as he moved through the dust as it settled around him.
The crimson blade of the Dark Lord leapt forth from it’s Yorik coral hilt casting a sickening glow of scarlet around him as he emerged from the other side of the veil into the open air.
He swung immediately for Dagon Kaze
falling into the feigned attack as the apprentice slipped by him, catching his eye too little too late. Sparks of crimson hate leapt between the fingers of his free hand as he leaned forward to try and rectify his error. That is until HE emerged.
Vaulting out from the wreckage of fate, the Iron Emperor emerged like a tempest of doom. Entering the fray in a whirlwind of sabers that sought purchase to deal a final death to the Sith’ari with masterful grace and deadly focus. The Dark Lord was caught on the back foot, twirling back into a Soresu form as he sought to fight off the likes of the valiant Dagon and unrelenting Rurik.
Heinrich Faust
descended upon the Dark Voice with his golden blade crashing downward. With a powerful stroke propelled by the momentum of his full body weight, he sought to end the Dark Lord once and for all. He had only the Force to aid him in this crucial moment, augmenting his body with the liberating empyrean to carry him out of harm’s reach as his enemies closed in.
The Sith Master pressed into the blades of his opponents with a wide arch, taking a every inch of his blade’s length to strike in parry against his oppressive opponents before rolling back in a flip to narrowly avoid his demise as the Blade of Ession crashed down.
“Arrrruuuuhhh!!”
As his feet touched the ground, the Dark Lord spewed forth cold malice out from his very fingertips. He casted a hateful torrent of crimson energy towards Dagon Kaze
. Blade after blade soon would come crashing down without a second to spare as the volley of strikes laid by the ferocious Vornskr unleashed by Rurik Fel
sought to break him and his guard.
The Sith’ari struggled to maintain fluidity among his movements, nearly losing his footing under the weight of the oppressive push forward. With the approach of Heinrich Faust
, the odds were stacked against him. After repelling a latent blow nearly taking him to his knees, the Dark Lord recoiled back and threw his lightsaber in a wide arc toward his former apprentice. Before another blow could be landed he recalled his blade just as another blow was sent spiraling into his direction.
He needed space and he needed it now.
The Dark Voice uttered a sinister phrase, a hushed whisper of the old tongue. Seeking to invoke a half concocted memory walk upon his former disciple while he sought to defend himself against the Emperor.
Aiming true, the Sith Master sought purchase with opportunity as he used counterweight of the last blow struck to move into Djem So swiftly. Striking his saber between the crushing volley of blades to bring it into a momentary deadlock. The Dark Lord outstretched his now free hand without hesitation, channeling the empyrean in order the grasp one of the now-broken temple pillars.
He squeezed his hand, shattering stone with immense force as the pillar tipped over. The Dark Lord dove back and dipped down, attempting to weave beyond the masterful reach of the force of nature that was Rurik Fel with a spin in order to try and deliver a powerful kick in hopes of sending his foe to an early grave.
“It’s never enough.”
His attention shifted suddenly, a presence he long expected.
For his part, Ollis was quickly found—even among many of Galidraan's finest, the Laird Barran stood out both in size and the air of solitude he often cultivated. While the rest of his men were found further apart, readying themselves for when they and their speeder bikes would be called into the battle, Ollis hung back with the rest of the command, alternately poring over the holograms of the battle, the sheets outlining their plans, or simply standing out as he now did, macrobinoculars in hand, observing it from one of the safer positions he could.
Observing hell, as it were.
"Carwood," came his grunted reply. "Wis it the latter, it wisnae long enough." He lowered the macrobinoculars, looking over to the pair that addressed him. "A'd rather hae five mare, an' no war aroun' us." In contrast to the terse greeting he gave Captain McGechin, Annor received one with even fewer words, just a short, single nod. He had no clue who she was, but if she was at McGechin's side, coming up to Ollis no less, then she was likely important or soon to be such.
"Whit's yoor plan, lad? Mine are rearin' tae fecht."
ALLIES:Darth Solipsis
| Darth Ptolemis
| @whoever else - there's too many of you | BOTM | NSO ENEMIES: Everybody else (I'll tag if you're important) ENGAGING:Siv Dragr GEAR: In bio.
Everything was seen. Everything was sensed. In truth, everything happened in heightened speed, but to the two locked in battle, the earth beneath their feet stood still.
Dimitri's saber collided with the beskar jetpack, sparing the bounty hunter's life - for the moment. In the split second it took for the Mandalorian to roll, the saber was drawn back to ready for another onslaught, incidentally connecting with the vibrospines that were coming his way in the process. If it weren't for the fact that he had his saber in movement, he would not have seen the spines until it was too late.
What the Lord of the Sith did not see coming at all, however, was the the spear's grip end snaking out towards him. It hit him square in the abdomen that was wide open for a strike while he had been accidentally contending with the vibrospines. The Dragon's armour tanked the worst of the damage, but the force of the stim-propelled blow drove him back a few paces. As the butt of the spear had connected with the armour, the impact had definitely winded Dimitri as he drew in a few gulps of air, standing a few paces away.
Damn Mandalorians.
"Your time is nigh, Mando'ad." the Dragon growled still trying to regain his breath.
Then, without warning, he gripped onto the spear with the Force and yanked with the hopes of ripping it free from the void-plated mando's grip while also aiming to pull him off balance as much as possible in the situation. Capitalising on the distraction, the Sith flung his saber like a hyperpowered boomerang - not at the Mandalorian's head but his legs instead. At the same time, the predator darted forward in a blur, pulling the Sith blade from his back and slicing just between the bounty hunter's cuirass and the belt.
With the ancient weapon amplifying the Dragon's power, Dimitri summoned his saber, that was on its way back to his original position, without breaking attention or stride as the Sith blade was wielded. As the saber returned to his grip, Dimitri sliced at the Mandalorian's groin area while the Sith blade was already moving into a defensive position, ready for any more tricks.
<You refrain from using what you were named after.>
The Snake's voice in his head came out of the blue while the two men were locked in combat. The long dead master that had plagued his mind for so long had been silent during most of Dimitri's tenure in the New Sith Order. Until now. <A warrior like him deserves better.> he answered the spectre of Darth Anguis that had found a way to reside in his head.
<Until he doesn't.>
The parting words before the Snake returned to silence, were ominous. They left a bitter taste in the ancient warrior's mouth, yet they rang true as his dead master's words often did.
Even in death, he was still teaching his ancient apprentice.
Trinity carried on further down the passageway, her Ultranaut soldiers led the way whilst two of them manned the crawler as it made its slow progression, the biological samples were nestled safely away for later examination. It was becoming colder down here, and there air had much higher levels of carbon monoxides and other unbreathable gases than above. It still registered as breathable, but the Overseer was very glad of her Guarderma suit at this point.
"Overseer, the signals from above indicate a worsening in violence, we may have to cut this short and extract." "I understand, the next chamber appears to be the largest in the area and the tunnels taper off after that." she replied with a measure of professional disappointment, they had come so far, and whilst the crystalline plant samples were fascinating, it was not why she had come here. It was of deep concern though that the fighting was intensifying, they were a long way under and this area could easily be over run and her ship compromised.
The buzzing had been getting louder, all the way down here, still inaudible to the human ear, but all of their scanners could now detect it easily, even if there was not the grand repository of information down here, something compelled Trinity forward to find out what the source of this sound was.
Where were the guards they had been promised, no guards, no technology, nothing, just these strange caves.
"Captain, Overseer, there is something this way! came a shout from up ahead, Trinity looked at the Captain and they doubled their pace to catch up. The site that greeted them was extraordinary, the cave opened up and in the very centre was a large tree, around its branches, glowing creatures trailing puffs of smoke danced lightly around. Every so often one of the lights would reach the ground and just for a few moments, the smoke would coalesce into robed human figures that would walk around before the light ascended taking its smoke with it.
Trinity and the Ultranauts stepped forward and the lights seemed to shimmer in reaction, then everything went dark.
[ Final Days ] <"Sith or ur-Kittât"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
Xanesh investigates the ruins and welcomes Thurion.
Xanesh has not found her place since the Sith Empire collapsed and the Worm Emperor took control of the empire. The old Sith Lady did not accept the new views and as it became apparent that she could not retain the power she had built for more than a decade, she preferred to leave. Here, in this age, in the present, she didn’t have to leave so much behind, but she wasn’t happy. Xanesh has since spent most of her time researching archaeology and research. As always. She found a new home in the Maw, but they didn’t feel really at home.
The methods were too aggressive for two Sith Ladies as old and tired as Benûwia and Ireria. Even Benûwia was tired of this. And since Csilla, both of them, and so Xanesh herself has seen the visions, the dreams. They were on Voss for a while, which is Ireria's other home, but after the Ashlan Crusade occupied the planet, they couldn't return there either. In fact, they have never really found a place in this world, in this time. Everything changed too fast, they were old and wanted a quiet life.
They had not been involved in war for a long time. Now they are made an exception. Before the fight reached this place, the woman examined and looked at the Jedi ruins. After all, she was partly an archaeologist. It's always been fun. After that, however, hell broke loose and the fight began. She could feel the Jedi approaching, and she was still meditating and maintaining Force Storm and Battle Meditation nearby. After all, the old lady was a sorcerer rather than a swordswoman.
She knew her fate, but that didn't mean she wouldn't kill as many Jedi today as she could. Because Xasneh intended to send a lot into the Netherworld. The Sith Lord opened her eyes as she sensed the person approaching. Xanesh, now in an old female body, after the shape-shifting, folded the hood over her head and emerged from the ruins. HSh looked around, recognizing Thurion Heavenshield
, the High King of Midwinter, Former Grandmaster of the Silver Jedi Order. A worthy opponent.
"Lord Heavshield, we welcome you!" she greeted the Jedi.
She felt the effect of the ritual, she heard the words, "Hâsk jiaasen!" from hundreds of thousands, millions of throats. All the warriors tied their lives, their souls, to Dark Voice. She looked at the Jedi, calmly, peacefully.
The battle was joined now in full, with the Jedi strike teams of Vanagor and Starchaser converging on the temple ruins. Blasters were fired point-blank, lightsabers clashed, and fists were thrown. It was a complete brawl, one that the towering Valkyri was more than suited for; Thurion's fighting style more often than not incorporated jaw-breaking punches and bone-crushing grapples, utilising his superior physical strength and size to his advantage. Besides this, it was also the less lethal way to take down an opponent for a man who abhorred killing if he could help it.
"I don't drink caf," he called back to Caltin while lifting another enemy off his feet and throwing him into a nearby tree with such force it uprooted and fell over, crushing several others. "Wife's tried to warm me up to it for ages, still can't stand it!"
As yet another Mawite charged him, the Jedi Master summoned into his palm his ignited saber still buried in the chest of a previously felled foe just in time to sever the raving madman's hands clean off, following up on the swipe with a roundhouse to his chest, sending him flying.
By now he'd caught glimpse of someone he never would have expected to see ever again, and as he held another enemy in a painful joint lock he was stunned to realise it was truly him. "Tracyn! What are you--" He gave it a good snap, pulling the poor sod's arm out of its socket and letting him drop naturally to the ground before finishing him off with a stomp to the throat.
But before he and Tracyn had the chance to reunite in earnest, another made their sinister presence known. An older woman, from the looks of it, but one unmistakingly aligned with the dark side. Didn't take a genius to figure out which side she was on. She called him out, specifically.
He turned to Tracyn, patting him on the shoulder as he bid him good fortune. But then he added something so cryptic that again served to give him pause.
"Asha...?"
This wasn't the time to stop and find out what Tracyn had meant by that, for the battle soon separated the two as Thurion faced the Sith Lord, azure lightsaber at his side. The two carved out their own little arena amidst the chaos, circling one another like two predators awaiting the opportune moment to strike.
"You have me at a disadvantage, Lady Sith," he replied, offering a slight bow of his head while holding her corrupted gaze without fear. "The Brotherhood will not succeed. By attacking Tython, you've just united every Jedi faction in the galaxy where before there was disunity."
Thurion would then assume the wide stance of Form V long since mastered, lightsaber at the ready. "Ladies first."
[ Final Days ] <"Sith or ur-Kittât"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
Xanesh summons a Darkshear, but not attacks Thurion yet.
Xanesh tries to arouse doubt in her opponent.
"We are Darth Xanesh!" she introduces herself.
She did not particularly expect the man to know her name, although Xanesh was the person who held the rank of Pillar of Advancement in the Sith Empire after the death of Darth Prospero. That is, she was the Dark Councillor for Science. True, it's been more than a decade, slowly, and a half. A lot has changed since then. Maybe she felt the best in this world then. Since then? It was something like it used to be when she lived under Vitiate's reign.
The cycle always goes on.
Sure, she loved the theory of shaping the galaxy in the image of the Sith, but Xanesh only saw another Vitiate behind it. And it was tiring; she wasn't entertained anymore. Once upon a time, she was afraid of that, from the passing. Not specifically Xanesh, but rather Benûwia; Ireria never. And yet at their first death, their souls were locked in a gem and united, so Xanesh was born. They waited there for millennia before they finally occupied a body. The accident denies them ever being part of Netherworld. Maybe, maybe this ritual will change it.
"If so, where are the Silver Jedi Concord's forces? Or where is Saint Holy Kaiser of the Ashlan Crusade? As if I know well, they are nowhere. Ashla's light goes out today, Bogan will overcome. Even if you win today, the Jedi's time is over." she told him.
The world will change today, no matter who wins. The Sih Lady knew exactly that; that was the reason she came too. She watched as the man pulled out her weapon and took the Shien form. It was also Xanesh's preferred form. However, she didn’t reach for the lightsabers on her side. She reached into the Force instead. She remembered for a moment her first battle in this age with Adenn Kyramud …
The Sith, the Jedi, the Mandalorians, none have changed over the millennia. They will have to after today…
In her hand appeared a spear of midnight black consisting of Dark Side energies. A bitter smile appeared on her lips. She had not yet attacked, but rather tried to arouse doubt in the former Grandmaster.
"The Jedi are always the ones who want to start the fight in a hurry…" she took only one step closer. "Have you ever asked yourself if it makes sense? You're trying to kill us, you might succeed, you might not. Does a killed Sith change anything? If you want to achieve something here, shouldn’t you be at the scene of the ritual?" she asked him.
Thurion watched closely as the Sith identifying herself as Xanesh pulled from the depths of the dark side an onyx spear wrought in shadow, rather than brandishing the traditional lightsaber. An unexpected move, but one he was not unfamiliar with from prior encounters. He'd been a Jedi a long time, he liked to imagine he'd seen it all by now.
"The Light of Ashla can never be snuffed out, nor the Dark of Bogan. The Force always finds a way to balance itself, be it through the actions of the chosen few or through the natural course of time. Without the Jedi to narrow their focus, the Sith too would fall through constant in-fighting. I've seen it countless times before. Your misguided need to cause suffering inevitably serves as your own downfall, and you have no-one to blame it on but yourselves. I pity you."
His stance slightly shifted, from that of the more defensive aspect of Form V to the offensive Djem So. She'd done enough stalling.
"I am not alone. My faith is in my friends. Were I to fall, they will stop you."
Every single Jedi fighting on Tython at this very moment was his brother, his sister, and no force in this universe was, in his mind, more powerful than that of family; duty; honour. The Jedi were all of these and more.
Enough talk.
Thurion seized the initiative, quickly closing the distance between the two duelists in order to fight her on his terms. He used the momentum to his advantage, raining blow after blow down on the Lady Sith, looking to overpower her quickly in order to rejoin efforts to stop the ritual.
[ Final Days ] <"Sith or ur-Kittât"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
Xanesh joins to the ritual and warned Thurion about the death of the Light of Ashla.
Xanesh attacks back.
"Hâsk jiaasen!" she whispered barely audibly as she joined the ritual as well.
Although she did not hope that this would be of any use to her. Her soul and life have long been doomed. Sometime when she first started working with sangnir, thousands of years ago. But maybe, maybe it won't be in vain. Xanesh knew she could never get into the Netherworld, so it didn't really matter. As for her companies, they were already in the right place. She's already spoken to the Primyn Group, Darth Maledictio will take care of her present heritage.
Chuckling at Thurion's words, she felt Vinaze's strength as the eldritch Sith Lord was already in the right place. Exactly as Xanesh had seen it before.
"Oh, we’re talking about the girl, not the Force, not the Light Side. About the daughter of the Sith Lord and the Force Entity. About the Light of Ashla, whom the Crusade considers Living Saint. You will lose the Ashlan Crusade before the end of the ritual." she told him, and an evil smile ran down her lips.
She did not ask for the man's pity, the old Sith Lady did not consider her life pitiful. She lived a lot, she was successful, she was a winner, a conqueror. Maybe she only regretted the ritual that made her here now and not in the Netherworld. But other than that, nothing. Nearly five thousand years passed, but there was still, still a large number of her descendants, many of whom she knew, knew their identities. How many could have said all this? Probably not many.
"Keep your pity for those who need it, Jedi." she told him.
She smiled again at the next one, the man was still blind and did not understand anything. But Xanesh didn't want to explain it to him anymore. Especially not because the man had already attacked. Xanesh knew Thurion was old, too, but he was still moving deftly and quickly. But the woman, too, since Xanesh did not move like an old woman. In fact, the body she was in was barely thirty-five years old, still almost childish, but shape-shifter. Thus, it was not difficult to choose the appearance of an old woman, but it did not have any disadvantages for her.
She avoided the first blows and cuts, and then she tried to take advantage of the fact that she didn't have to go too close because of the spear, trying to pierce the former Grandmaster with the quoted spear in the middle of her chest.
"And the moon is lost, too! Ashla is bleeding!" she said.
Thurion shatters Xanesh's spear before disengaging temporarily.
He pours all his strength into establishing a massive Force Barrier around the Temple Ruins.
He calls upon other Jedi through the Force to aid him in strengthening the Barrier.
Thus commenced that most ancient of tests, where one champion is pitted against another in the neverending crucible of war. It had existed far longer than either Sith or Jedi, would no doubt exist long after both orders were long gone; a mere footnote in the overall history of this galaxy. Even this cataclysmic battle would one day fade from memory to the point where only learned scholars and researchers are privy to its occurrence.
The Jedi Master was astounded by the speed at which the elder Sith moved, dodging his opening flurry of attacks with surprising agility belying her years. A sudden jab from her darkshear spear forced Thurion to stop and turn sideways, letting it penetrate through his outermost layer of robes. Using it to his advantage, he spun in place to the point that his robes came off and entangled themselves around the tip of her spear.
He then gripped the temporarily pacified end of the polearm with one hand, relying on his superior physical strength to hold it in place as he raised his lightsaber above his head in order to land a powerful blow and hopefully sever the spear in two.
But then his entire being froze in place, and his eyes turned skywards.
"No..."
One of Tython's moons had fractured into pieces, with several fragments sent hurtling down towards the planet's surface. Ashla, the very namesake of the Light side of the Force, had been rent asunder during the course of the battle. He understood now what Xanesh had meant.
Thurion's gaze fell on the Lady Sith, his expression gradually shifting from that of painful disbelief to that of bitter rage. Rather than use his lightsaber, he instead wrapped his hand around the shaft of the spear, ignoring the pain of doing so. A bright light was emitted from his palm; a light so bright it burned through the darkshear until it was severed in half. He then flung his half towards Xanesh, but only as a distraction. He knew she'd deflect the incoming projectile, but it gave him precious time to call on the Force for a powerful thrust of energy sent her way, capable of leveling entire buildings.
Even should she jump out of the way in time, the mighty Force Push would sow chaos in the Sith ranks as dozens were sent flying, freeing up many Jedi to further push on the Temple Ruins.
"COREN," he roared across the battlefield, seeing him face off with another Sith in the distance. "LOOK TO THE SKIES!"
Through their merge in the Force, some of the Jedi in his vicinity gathered around him, acting as his shield. The Lion King raised both hands to the heavens above, drawing further upon the powers that he'd honed over his lifetime to erect a Force Barrier covering a large part of the surrounding area, protecting those within against the rain of celestial projectiles.
Maintaining such a vast barrier alone was extremely draining, but as more and more of his brothers lent their aid to sustaining the shield the burden was gradually lifted. As additional barriers were established, eventually they would link up to cover more and more of the battlefield.
At this very moment, Thurion could not help wonder whether the name of Heavenshield had been placed upon him all those years ago for this very purpose. To save the birthplace of the Jedi Order from certain destruction.
"Lo, there do I see my father," he found himself reciting the warrior's prayers of his homeworld, unintentionally sent to others through the Force merge. "Lo, there do I see my mother, and my sisters, and my brothers. Lo, there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning!"
Visions of lost family members appeared before him in his strained state. Perhaps it was the delirium of fatigue, or some tear through the Force was playing tricks on him. Perhaps the very gods had sent their spirits to embolden him.
"Lo, they do call to me. They bid me take my place among them, in the Halls of Eternity. Where the brave... may live... forever."
[ Final Days ] <"Sith or ur-Kittât"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
Thurion shatters her spear and the Force attack was successful as well.
Xanesh lost consciousness for a few moments inside the ruins.
Xanesh tries to attack Thurion with Force lightning.
The result was not important to Xanesh, the point was to keep the fight going for as long as she could. If she wins, she can end up with the next cut or stab. The point keeps the Jedi occupied until Solipsis ends his ritual. The more they die in these holy lands, the more successful the ritual will be, the stronger it will be. Holy? She thought for a moment; to one side it is definitely sacred, and to the other it is infinitely cursed.
Everything happened exactly the way the Dark Voice wanted it…
The woman expected the man to be better than the spear would hit him, and indeed he was. In the end, she just stabbed the man's robe and tore it apart as wrapped it around the spear. Although it fell off very soon. That's when the "meteor shower" started in the sky. And the woman was prepared for the attack, which could be so strong that the spear would disappear, but her words then distracted the man, who finally noticed that Ashla was falling to pieces. The next step, however, surprised her.
A mocking smile first appeared on Xanesh's lips as she felt anger from the former grandmaster at the sight in the sky. The next one came as a surprise. The man shattered the spear with the Lightside's power. The Sith Lady had indeed avoided the piece of spear flying towards it, which was shattered afterwards, but it allowed Thurion to accomplish what he wanted.
Although the woman was still able to create a telekinetic shield around her, the ground still disappeared from under her feet and the other Sith and Mawite forces flew back into the ruins. She probably lost consciousness for a few moments, because by the time she opened her eyes among the ruins and debris, Tython was also starting to rage. She felt the earthquakes, saw the earth open and the lava flow. Xanesh felt the wrath of the planet.
<"Good!"> she said.
She came out of the ruins, looking for the Jedi, especially Thurion. She saw him and the other Jedi were trying to maintain a Force barrier. Xanesh didn't want to get any closer yet. The Sith Lady reached into the Force, began to concentrate; after all, she has always been more of a sorcerer. As the Force energies began to gather around her, the woman rose a little into the air. Countless purple lightning danced around her and in the air.
She pounded all the summoned Force lightning, dozens, to the place where Thurion was just meditating and praying…
As more and more joined in the maintaining of the barrier, the burden placed upon Thurion's shoulders was incrementally eased as the initiator. To cover such a wide area all alone was no small feat, but drawing upon such forces was unsustainable for one person, even someone of his ability. But, as he had stated before, he was not alone. No Jedi was ever alone. The very spirits of uncountable generations stood with them this day.
With his focus placed solely on maintaining the barrier as large pieces of Ashla rained down on them, he was unable to predict his opponent's next move. She had yet to be dealt with, having only been clear from his path for but a small time. Safeguarding his fellow man always took priority to defeating his enemy, for if he possessed the power within him to save a life, how could he not? Such is not merely the way of the Jedi; it is the way of all decent folk.
His senses alerted him to the threat of Xanesh's electric attack as they closed in, but was due to the strain of the barrier slow to counter it. Another Jedi had stood in the path of the lightning strike, only to be overpowered by it. Thurion reached out with his left hand and influenced the lightning to bounce over to him, releaving the brave Jedi Knight from its incredible pain as he fell to the ground dazed by the brief encounter.
There the Jedi Master stood locked in place, trapped between giving power to the barrier being repeatedly pounded from above while also deflecting the constant stream of Sith lightning, with one palm facing up and the other facing forward. His senses were already being overloaded, his energy fading swiftly. He'd been brought to his knees. His gaze looked past the Lady Sith cackling as she poured her all into the decisive attack, towards a set of golden gates towering in the distance, gleaming brightly against the dour backdrop. All the noise of battle, all the screams, went silent.
Recognising the golden gate, he felt an overwhelming sense of calm. His defenses began to falter as he started to give in to the sensation.
"Forgive me, my love," he said, knowing then that he would not be coming home after all. The Golden Hall of the Allfather beckoned, where he would be reunited with all those he'd lost over the course of his long life. Knowing what lay ahead, he felt ready.
Thurion's will was still wavering when suddenly the skies above were lit by waves of pulsating light, drawing his unfocused gaze for but a moment. In that moment, he witnessed Caltin Vanagor's sacrifice to destroy many of the incoming lunar projectiles before inevitably falling to his demise. It was at this moment that the Lion re-emerged, and his vision of the golden gates vanished into thin air.
With the majority of the pieces of falling moon being heavily reduced in size or wiped out completely, Thurion finally let go of his control of the barrier to pour all his attention on his opponent, now reaching out with both hands to absorb the attack. He rose to his feet and began to close the distance between the two, one painstaking step at a time as electricity danced violently between their outstretched hands. One more push, and he was finally able to reflect the lightning back towards Xanesh, severing their lengthy bond.
Rather than follow through with an attack of his own, Thurion took flight. He leaped high into the air, just in time to catch Caltin Vanagor
as his unconscious body fell. With the big man secured in his arms, he landed some distance away, close to Coren Starchaser
and Celeste Rigel
.
"Neither of us dies this day, my friend," he told Caltin as he rested him against the remains of a stone wall, kneeling by his side. "If you fight, I will fight. And if I fight, you fight too. Now fight, damn you!" Thurion placed his hands upon Caltin's temples and closed his eyes, attempting to pull him back from the brink of the alluring abyss he himself had nearly succumbed to just moments earlier.
[ Final Days ] <"Sith or ur-Kittât"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
She lets Thurion run away.
She gathers power and life force from her enemies and allies.
After she regains her strengths, she follows Thurion.
The former Grandmaster proved to be a really worthy opponent and was able to withstand the attacks of the old Sith Lady. Xanesh stopped the attack when her opponent ran away. Then the lightning disappeared from the air in an instant, and she sank to her knees panting. It was a lot more tiring for her than she thought. It was really a long time ago that she fought in any kind of fight. And even then, their Mandalorians were her opponents, not Force users. That is, the same man at both times. Adenn Kyramud, in the first fight and the last that happened before that. If she counted this one as the last.
She was still gasping for air, but she was getting up off the ground with trembling legs. Her body was young, but her soul and soul were infinitely old. She could feel the weight of the millennia now. Of course, she didn’t live that long, only about a hundred years; both are twins, that is, nearly two hundred years, if one adds them up. But for nearly five thousand years, her, their soul did not rest, they, she was only imprisoned. No rest, she sensed the outside world, she was dead, but not exactly. It was an intermediate state.
But she was here today, watching her opponent flee to save someone. Then they went near the other Jedi. Coward. It was ironic that the Sith were considered cowards and the Jedi always asserted that the followers of the Dark Side, that the followers of the Bogan, those the ones who were fleeing. And now he does it! The Jedi is fleeing. However, this gave the Sith Lady a perfect opportunity to regain her used strength.
True, not in the most beautiful way, but the goal justifies the means. And there were a lot of fighting Scar Hounds, other Mawite and Tython Accord soldiers nearby. She smiled again, then reached into the Force and, with the help of the Force, began to drain the life force around her and those around her. She didn't care if it was a friend or an enemy. If they are friends, their death will serve as a ritual in addition to being nurtured. If they were an enemy, everything would be fine.
The invisible tendrils, which looked like black tiny tentacles in the Force, started out of the woman's body and entangled those who were nearby. The victims felt nothing of it, only that they were getting weaker and weaker. It was only visible to outside observers that the movements of nearly two dozen soldiers, a dozen Scar Hound, and a dozen enemy soldiers were slowing down and then collapsing without any injury. The Scar Hounds looked like their skin had become dried, almost becoming a mummy.
By the end of the process, Xanesh did not feel fatigue, exhaustion. She was again as fresh and strong as the beginning of the fight. Even her mild concussion had faded away, which was caused by being slammed among the ruins, when Thurion threw her there. Slowly, she started walking peacefully in the direction of the Jedi when soldiers had attacked her; Xanesh broke out their neck with telekinetics, and she was protecting herself against the projectiles with tutaminis.
"It's not a nice thing to leave the ladies alone on the date, High King!" she shouted to him, when he was already within earshot.
At his behest, or perhaps by some unseen force, Caltin sprang to life just as Xanesh approached, having restored her strength and proceeded to track down her intended prey. Thurion helped the man to his feet, only for Master Vanagor to address the Lady Sith with some inspired words. Then, true to his unyielding nature, Caltin tapped his rescuer on the shoulder before wading back into the fray. The level of mutual respect between the two grizzled warriors was immense, and theirs was a bond of brotherhood forged in the fires of war over the course of countless conflicts.
No doubt the big guy was off to get himself into some more trouble before the day was done. So were they all at this point.
With no more distractions requiring his immediate attention, Thurion once more stared down the Sith Lord with regained focus. Nothing would come between them this time; their fates would be decided in the next coming minutes. His next actions would decide whether he came home fresh off another victory, or was returned home for a funeral befitting the High King of Midvinter. He'd made his peace with that when he accepted Coren's call for aid.
Thurion Heavenshield's last act as a Jedi was to be the protection of the Jedi homeworld, regardless of its outcome.
"Beg your pardon, my lady," he spoke, drawing his trusty lightsaber yet again, thumbing the ignition to bathe the surrounding area in azure. "I've someone waiting for me to come home, and you've put yourself between the Lion and his pride for the last time!"
His robes tattered and scorched from the prior onslaught of Sith lightning, Thurion raised his off-hand to his shoulder and gave it a sharp tug, ripping the fabric clean from his torso. Ever did his ancestry and his beliefs war for control, and this was one time that the warrior in him won out as he stood before his enemy baring his Valkyri physique for all to witness what had been honed by relentless battle and hardship. A fallen Brother of the Maw lay at his feet, and so Thurion briefly knelt to gather the sanguine liquid from an open wound, then rose as the High King proceeded to adorn his naked skin with the blood of his enemies, dragging his fingers along his bare chest.
All this whilst staring down his prey.
"My ancestors are smiling at me, Sith! Can you say the same?"
The Golden Lion gave in to his namesake as he charged like the berserkers of old, roaring his utter contempt for his foe. Few and far between were the times he'd allow himself to access that ancient rage of war that boiled beneath the surface, ever suppressed by the Jedi serenity. He came at Ardana Vorco
with his full might, no longer bothering to hold back.
Where one might anticipate the precise stance of the Jedi arts, there was more focus on overwhelming aggression with brute force behind each strike; putting his weight into his every swing. He was done showing this woman kindness or restraint, for she had proven to be a thorn in his side this entire battle. He had no patience for Sith games when instead he could be spending his time saving the lives of his fellow Jedi.
To cap off his initial combination of attacks, he levitated into the air before coming crashing back down with his fist charged with telekinetic energy, releasing a shockwave as he struck the earth. It had been the signature move back in his prime days of leading the Silver Jedi Order, and had brought about the end of many a witless fools standing in his way.
"ALL-FATHER'S WRATH UPON THEE," he shouted as he came crashing down, as if the High God Himself had taken mortal form.
The following events, to put it mildly, did not turn out the way Xanesh would have thought. First, she was attacked by a man who had been rescued by her opponent not so long ago. He definitely seemed like he is better now, unfortunately. She was still able to defend Caltin's attack with ease, it came from afar, it seemed there was time to prepare for it. She didn't like anyone interfering in her duel. So she actually even thought about involving him, but she didn't. For now, she was just watching Thurion as the man acted.
She chuckled as the man mentioned pride. How ironic it is that a Jedi tells of his own pride on this day. No matter if it was his family or his feelings. The day the holy place of the Jedi falls to pieces and the planet is crying and bleeding under their feet right here. Are the former Grandmaster's talking about pride on this day? When Darth Solipsis, the Dark Voice trampled into the ground the Jedi’s full pride with a pair of feet, which in principle they are even forbidden to feel ? Entertaining.
When the man mentioned the ancestors, the woman smiled tenderly.
"We killed them!" she said calmly. "We had to!"
It wasn’t kind of a Sith thing, it really was necessary. However, her descendants are still alive after so many millennia. They had to kill them. The father of the two women went mad, devouring all their ancestors and preparing to perform a ritual with which he wanted to control his entire bloodline. Ireria and Benûwia were forced to stop him and kill him, along with all their former ancestors. Ireria paid the higher price of the two sisters, she had a miscarriage and never had a child again. But that was the past again…
In the present, Thurion attacked and Xanesh activated her red bladed lightsaber. Even at the first blow, she felt the man was physically stronger than her. So she used her dexterity and speed to defend. In one blow, the man hit the woman's side. Although the armour had protected her from death for the time being, the strength of the blow still cracked the woman's ribs, when the blade reached there and felt the heat as well. Here the woman wanted to attack quickly, but then Thurion rose into the air. After his attack, Xanesh began to fly backwards again toward the ruins, following the push.
However, she no longer had the opportunity to land normally. At that moment, the bomb under the temple ruins exploded. The explosion and shockwave in the air stopped the old Sith Lady in the air, shattering countless bones thanks to the two different force effects from two directions, severely damaging her internal organs. Eventually, the explosion proved stronger and pushed her back in the direction Thurion was. Her dress was partially roasted from the explosion, smoked and glowing.
The lightsaber fell out of her hand and fell into a gaping opening that opened up on the ground. The other was still there on her belt, but half-unconscious, she fell to the ash-covered ground in pain…
"Fahkin hell," Belkora decried as his perimeter became shorter and shorter with each agent falling to the masses coming for them; he shot and fired, kicked and whipped anyone who got near his space as he rallied his people to fight back and push the creatures back. His sunglasses hid any and all sense of emotion as he fought his way through the Mawite animals; the world trembled around him, and the rapturous, dark dreamscape grew in intensity and brutality as the scene of battle was illuminated by distant volcanic explosions and fire in the distance. Don Belkora moved forward and only forward, with one singular purpose; the first thing he saw of Rika was their panicked eyes and bloodied form atop a rock surrounded by piles of corpses.
"Enough with the theatrics, kid! Where did you see the fucking path!" He shouted, turning his attention to pistol-whip an incoming moon child, grabbing it by its head and dumping three blaster rounds in the nape of its neck before throwing it on the ground. The Atrisian was a tough one, to fight off so many like that when the team had already suffered the deaths of five of its members, many of whom were battle-hardened operatives who'd seen action against the Sith Empire.
They sure didn't make them like they used to that was for sure.
"We got half the fucking Maw on us kid, if you got the initiative lets go," He gestured for her to lead the way as the pair fought their way up the mountain and towards the target.
Following the corpse down to the ground, the Wardog landed a few feet from the broken body with a look of disappointed disgust along her features. A hand rested on a pistol by her hip as she spat some of the man’s blood from her mouth, looking around as the sound of jetpacks drew closer.
She stood like a very relaxed sentinel as the two Mandalorians approached her, ready to fight. The Wardog plucked a cigarette from a pouch and lit it with her vambrace’s flamethrower, calmly dropping some of the ashes on the dead Mando by her feat as she eyed those she once called family. Vode.
Her piercing gaze shifted to Sasha as she sniffed the air. ”You smell like a spice den, shut up.” She ashed again on the corpse as smoke poured from her mouth. ”Maybe if you talked less and cared more like you claimed, we wouldn’t be in this position.” She commented with a dry tone as her eyes locked onto Kranak.
Her Basilisk landed behind her with a thundering drone as its weapons locked onto the two Mandalorians. ”I’ll take care of ‘em. You go take care of the other hypocrites.” She spoke without looking at the machine. It took off again to go find the other soldiers of the Enclave while the Cur stood calmly and finished her cigarette.
”Five bucks says jetpack attack.”
”Obviously. They got the imagination of a brick.”
The two finally moved, with Kranak flying up while Sasha came straight at her. With a vile grin, the Wardog took a step back and waited for the girl to close in. At the last moment, Shai stepped to the left as the shield on her left vambrace opened up and swung at Sasha’s head. Her other hand let loose with her flamethrower as her jetpack came to life and fired a missile at Kranak in the air.
”Y’all should have stayed away!” She barked as she drew a pistol with her right hand, ready to fire at them with deadly particle bolts.
The aggressive alarms did little to aid in the crisis. Em thought for a moment how the last thing any prospective pilot might need when facing certain death in the vacuum of space was to be loudly blasted by instruments and klaxons. She pulled tighter on the controls, pulling it up from the descent. The starboard damage was batted, the result of the quick work of her astromech. She could hear various voices calling downs the comms but nothing that she needed to worry about at that moment.
Just. Straighten. Up.
That's all she had to do. Correcting the course of a fighter to the right plane was an interesting notion in space, given that it had little concept of 'the right way up.' But it was something they had trained for countless times. It was part and parcel of the job.
Rookies, indeed.
She managed it, watching on the various monitors as the function returned to a battle-normal level. She'd lost some finesse but it would certainly last as long as it might do otherwise in what looked like the greatest battle the Galaxy had ever seen. She flicked her comms to a closed channel.
"Lene, I got it. She's stable again. Flying at 92%, shields holding steady. Took a real nasty bump back there."
She spotted a trio of incoming fighters, their terrifying visage looming ever closer, spewing blaster fire at her speeding fighter. She returned fire with a flurry of her own, bursting one outright and clipping another through the centre of its fuselage, sending it reeling off into the other. They both shattered without ceremony, hardly a flair or fireball in sight.
It was a common mistake, thinking all fighters exploded. Some just burst their pressurised integrity and suffocated the pilots. It was very lonely in a floating tomb.
"I'm heading on your tail now. Pulling back and following you in. I'm okay." She hoped she sounded okay.
She turned her head to catch the glimpse of the collapsing moon.
Drenched in both Akar Kesh's draining shadow and the neighboring, exploded mountain's soot, the battle between the feral Moon Children and the Imperial Special Forces rages on. The mawite primitives have sprung up from the muddied valleys around the volcanic mountain and are funneling into the killzone of the enemy, since they have no other choice; but they're not an army.
Their numbers are finite. They rise to the challenge of facing down veteran soldiers due only to the parasite that had infected them and is controlling their every muscle and organ… Ptolemis. His savage flock sometimes divides into smaller groups abruptly; other times they coalesce into triangles of mass. In most cases, these otherwise throwaway troops behave now like liquids do; they constantly claw at points that offer the least resistance and maneuver around areas of extreme hazard. Fresh, maroon blood trickles down hills of corpses.
They simply cannot win. But they can buy time.
Still standing on a cliff about ten meters above the unfolding scene, encrusted in ash, the Blasphemer is the personification of the New Sith Order's dystopia. Behind him, the thick smoke slides down from the recently erupted volcano like a blackened avalanche in slow motion. The bleak, almost industrial atmosphere is punctured exclusively by the weapon discharges of the specialists that are trying to advance toward Akar Kesh and the constant storm, yet even these colors wane easily within the suffocating clouds.
The Sith Lord may seem dormant, yet he is far from it. His mind registers every injury of the Moon Children as if they were his very appendages and is herding them remotely. That is the cost of the sacrilegious incantation. Yet, in order to maintain the connection, in more sense than one, he needs to keep up the ritual.
The sacrilegious chants resume.
The hellish sounds turn the already demoralizing scene somehow even more downtrodden.
"Yeah." Amani responded to Kai flatly. She stood up and began to pace, until a glance reminded her of the alcove where she had set up her research tools. Chief among them, a small centrifuge containing two vials of blood: one of her own, and one of Surea's, from their fight on Kesh.
With urgency, Amani approached the alcove and made an attempt to discretely pocket the vials without Surea noticing. Given the woman's attempts to destroy evidence last time, maybe it was best to keep from her knowledge for now.
"Sit. Down." She stopped beside the Sith, and waited expectantly; Either for her to listen, or make a move. It was a flip of a coin at this point.
Amani didn't give herself much of a chance to grieve. At least, not right this minute. Kai's tears stopped flowing once he realized they weren't out of this mess yet. Amani was still moving around, doing something with a cabinet and some vials of what appeared to be blood.
And then there was the matter of the Sith woman they had brought with them.
With his leg broken, Kai wasn't exactly the most mobile person aboard the ship. But he was hardly powerless. Wiping his runny nose on his sleeve, he turned toward Surea, eyeing her warily. She was standing over by the airlock, rather obviously trying to escape.
<I'd listen to her if I were you,> he said inside Surea's mind, marking his solidarity with Amani.
Surea was too focused on too many different things to realize her blood was so close. That evidence of her Rot was still in possession of the Jedi. She was waiting for the signal, watching the Jedi in a hopes they'd be too distracted by the coming apocalypse to notice until it was too late. Scanning for some kind of weapon in case that didn't turn out to be right. No weapon, not without stealing it from them.
And their attention on her killed that idea.
She didn't move. "I'd rather stand, before I'm put in another cage." Surea doubted either of them cared. Whatever heartstrings Surea could've tugged at with Amani burned with the rest of the ward she'd incinerated back in their first meeting. And Kai seemed oddly not human, despite being human.
Caltin Vanagor partially stabilizes the temple sinkhole, important to come!
x2 Droid Tunnelers set their detonite timers for 10 minutes. One heads closer to Kaleth and one moves between Kaleth and the temple ruins. at 500m depths.
Huge pressure builds in the pipe system underneath the flooded plains, readying for a potentially devastating event.
The Tython relay attack was partially successful, the fired AI's gained control of 22 older model starfighters out of 64 attempts.
The starfighters can be seen bombing along the tunneled ground, weakening it yet further right through the middle of the galactic alliance lines.
One tunneler lost toward the mantle attack, leaving 3, they have reached a depth of 20km below the surface. Shockwaves grow and continue, small cracks turn into modest ones from the Jedi Temple Ruins, extending in a widening circle outward the deeper the AI goes.
Ever Directive Deployment Status: Directive 18 Moving to Stage Seven
Cut like the Scythe. Split like the hammer. Build the Pressure.
Ongoing Scylla Operations:
Faction Communications Interference Stable. Feeding false reports, betrayals, and lies to defending factions.
Sensor Net Established and Stable. Feeding enemy movements and compositions to Maw and Sith Operatives.
Conduct ground destabilization and offensive operations on opposing forces.
Build Gas and Water Pressure!
Underneath the Jedi Temple Ruins
Greater shockwaves emanated from deeper toward the planetary mantle. Its main tunnelers had reached 20km having a free run, though one more had been crushed by two shifting landmasses. Small cracks turned into moderate-sized ones, the epicenter the Jedi temple ruins, the deeper they went the further the shockwaves. Water continued to swell upwards into modest-sized pools above. While lava occasionally spurted outward in a geyser frothing at the mouth ready to strike.
As Zark San Tekka
troops were shaken the apocalypse was well named. Hilal Vizsla
and Jan Beroya
feeling the tremors spread. Caltin Vanagor
stabilizing the danger from below was timely, the Jedi master reforming the temple sinkhole saved dozens maybe more at the moment, but many more than he could possibly know later on! If he could stabilize the ground! Gas pressure began to hiss, not explosive, this was a hiss of pressure from under the earth, a warning, something else coming.
Speaking of explosions. The remaining two untouched tunnelers on the west of the ruins reached closer to Kaleth. Both set their timers. One halfway between Kaleth and the ruins, the other moving closer to Kaleth itself, not there yet. The explosive tunnelers were set at 500 meters below ground predictably. A calculation that the AI was speeding up its attack, due to its efforts being hindered, more recklessly arming the bombs on the move. The last chance to stop this was upon them.
Those above may begin to see the end explosion wasn't the point of all this. Something devilishly clever was being conceived under their ground in the FLOOD PLAINS depths, well situated near the large lakes above. The hiss of gas pressure from the underground gas deposits and the water pressure almost groaning underground now. It was audible.
In those tunnel systems, a line of battle droids, engineering droids, thirty sithwatch cultists, and now five strange hooded figures. Were still rigging a complicated pipe system administered by the multi-core Tython AI. Both upward into the flooded plains lakes, and downward into the main deposits of water below them. There was excess water here to use in this terrain and minor aquifers were being breached. Large Turadium stop caps on the end of the tunnels were put in place, matching the four tunnellers' routes that had been carved. In each tunnel, there were HUGE pipes into the depths visible, with pressure valves secured to slowly build pressure behind. Gas was flashy, but water moved heaven and more importantly defined the earth above when it flowed.
Above they would be washed clean, Jedi drowned in a magnificent Synthetic calculation. Soon…
First about those hacked AI starfighters that had been harassing its supply lines…
Main Scylla Location: North of Akar Kesh
Varian Cavern Processing Hub.
Directive 18 Stage Seven Initializing Cut the wheat as chaff
Along the relays, the 64 Scylla AI railed against enemy computer systems, having more luck on old model craft than new ones with more advanced electric countermeasures. Some Scylla programs failed to connect, many of the pilots got control and landed or purged them. Only 22 were lucky enough to get control of their targets, even without outside interference. The AI utterly failed to take control of any ground assets on its first attempt, but programs could be recopied to try later. Certainly, anyone paying attention would detect a massive spike of data along the relays, even hidden in basements, foliage and caves as they were. The cultists operating them were mere men, often malnourished and driven mad with a one sith fever dream.
Liram was needed more than ever here, Caltin cleverly updated him as to what was happening, before it was potentially too late! The stolen starfighters were indeed going on bombing runs of their own, but not targeting a single galactic alliance asset. They were firing at the ground! Starfighters ejected their pilots, or in some cases fried or suffocated them inside. Starting just ahead of The Mongrel
's forces, near the largest ground crack, bombs were being dropped along the tunnel routes all the way toward Kaleth and potentially on top of it if not intercepted. The Scythe from above and the hammer from below. Turning them around and going for another pass. Ground fired sporadically came back when people realized these fighters were no longer friendly, but how coordinated it was depended on others! A-Wings broke to attack any interceptors, how good a pilot a Scylla AI was, would now be tested. Its previous incarnation once faced rogue squadron on Coruscant long ago. Certain One Sith had very long memories, they would suffer as he had.
Assume hits on the towers and cultists as you like, they are there for your RP.
Main Scylla Omega Hub Additional Defenders
Metal Fortifications and power sources are now in Cavern. | Entrance Mined | Turadium blast doors around the metal mainframe.
Underground layers to the Main Hub expanding. 12km Depth reached toward its Mantle goal. Gas and water pipes placed in tunnels.
Additional Logistical Forces Assembled.
Plentiful Resources for Building now in Cavern.
2x Civil-Industrial I-C2 Droids for processing materials
12 x Z7 series Droids to assist construction.
12x Ant droids for clearing rubble.
x16 Scylla AI for processing. Potentially founding steps of the Tython AI.
5/8x A-11-Model 3 Tunnel Boring Vehicles tunneling with Droid and AI Crew.
Additional Airforce stolen, pilots ejected. Run by Scylla AI's.
Modernized B-Wings x5
Modernized Y-Wings x 10
Modernized A-Wings x7
Scylla AI Firewalls
Firewall One Online
Firewall Two Online
Firewall Three Online
She didn't need to be told twice. She threw the vehicle at the oncoming horde then worked the toe of her boot under her trident-saber staff and kicked it up onto her hand.
Damsy shored up to Judah as she flourished her weapon, waiting for the next wave. "'Kay," she scoffed, "curb your self-destructive energy there, Jedi. I gotchu back, like it or not, an' we ain't dyin'."
For some reason, her eyes slid from him back to the sky. This time didn't boom. It fell.
Or, more specifically, parted for silvery shards of the moon. It would have been poetic if it wasn't plain horrific.
Her eyes were glued to the tearing atmosphere. The descending flesh of Ashla reflected in her irises. Calmness cast over her aura for a moment, perhaps as a means of concern to Judah should he be paying attention. Her brow knit as if she might be able to patch up the planetoid with just a look, but then what happened next shattered any implication of approval.
A verbal, volatile molten lava flow exploded from Damsy's throat consentless and not entirely her own. It was a mix, too, of the Siren's Song and a Force Scream from the Spirit.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"
The shrillness rippled from her in choppy shockwaves. They sought to tear through the surrounding Bloodsworn's physical and mental barriers. The sirensong notes to her scream might lure some of them to fell sudden empathy for her, or to heed her unspoken will by dispatching themselves. When her voice was spent, she succumbed to gravity. Rage and grief pulled back from her at once like displaced water returning out to sea in great volume. Her knees buckled underneath her, jarring her torso to the ground. The color, the stench, of blood—hers—swirled into the only embrace she had felt in some time: one of mud and dust.
Force Screamed. feel free to acknowledge if you would like!
As the rubble cleared, and the skies were clearing, the Jedi Master turned, watching for Celeste Rigel and Thurion Heavenshield . The other Masters were fine. They were protected. Turning to face his foe, he nodded, respectfully. They would have to watch out for Caltin, and get him out of here. For now? He could be the focus of the dark side.
The heavens had fallen, and they yet lived. Libertas has done what she needed to help provide a shield, pushing waves of energy into the sky. Neither Tython's survival nor its destruction were relevant to her. Her own survival was. Spite was a silly reason to fall on one's sword.
Rubble cleared away as the avalanche of Ashla's shards came to an end. Her foe still stood, as did various other Jedi. The Mawites could deal with them. Or not. Truthfully, the Jedi were doing her a favour if they put them down. She eneded a few moments to let the invigorating energies of the Force flow through her. They lived, but the land around them had not emerged unscathed. Fierce storms crackled overhead, plumes of flame rose up into the sky. Bodies lay scattered across the broken ground.
Her attention was focused on the Jedi who had challenged her. Her organic yellow and her cybernetic crimson eye fixated upon him. "The offer is still denied, Jedi, and since you are not inclined to do the same...." she said simply, and struck. The Jedi would feel the sickly, debilitating energies of the dark side of the Force crawl over him.
Force Plague. Not a skill often utilised, but useful. It was, of course, incredibly unlikely that a paladin of Ashla would be taken out of commission by it. His Force aura was strong. But it could weaken him, or distract him by compelling him to devote energy to fight the creeping sickness. That made it a good way to gauge his strength.
Power beyond comprehension was put on display as the shards of a moon rained down. With a gesture, Darth Carnifex
tossed aside massive fragments that would have turned the entire hill into a five kilometer wide crater.
But a handful of debris slipped through. Nothing more than fist sized rocks, yet rocks which traveled at atmospheric re-entry speeds, burning a cherry red and leaving a brilliant contrail as they shrieked toward the ground.
Korr, sensing the danger, thrust out a hand and managed to stop some of the debris with the Force. Two rocks still slipped through. They impacted the hillside directly behind Korr with the force of an exploding bomb, ripping him off his feet and sending him careening through the air. His body slammed into the dirt and bones crunched. Something impacted his spine and he felt ti shatter with excruciating pain. Screaming, mouth full of dirt, Korr landed somewhere on the other side of the hilltop, his body broken.
The song of gunfire ripped the turbulent air, blasters, missiles and even roars of war machines blended into a long dirge of a warzone unlike ever witnessed before. This has become the norm in the Maw's quest for destruction. More rubble fell and a big statue hurtled off its plinth and onto the ground with a bang, the head bouncing into the wall close by. Some important Jedi by the looks of it, better smashed to the earthen ground than upon high. Jedi and Sith build temples and statues, but the Sith are more discreet. At least he firmly believed that.
The dust settled as a fine powder on the floor. The falling masonry ceased so they can stop and avoid being crushed to death. The Temple looked even worse than usual. Still, Superious's brain kept thinking several tangents at a time, this multi-task thought pattern is highly effective in combat but there is a proneness to follow a tangent, which had briefly led him back to Leavened breadstuffs.
Soon enough Superious had to fall into a defensive fighting style as Silas went on the attack, although the blade didn't touch him, the Ubese felt it burn even under his clothing, his chest has ugly scarring from it all. That could be an automatic sensation from the last battle he had with a Jedi before Tython. The body remembers even if the mind does not.
He forced down an instinctive flinch as he got away from the offending blade. He had to think fast, how is he going to turn this around to his advantage. He felt the static of his Force Lightning tickle his fingers. That could be exactly how he will turn this around.
Then his Force Sense screamed into his thoughts again, there is something very large, headed his way. Silas had used the Force to hurl a large temple rock at him, the Ubese barely managed to dodge it and the smaller pieces hit him on the head, denting the metal of his helmet. Superious was forced into an even more defensive position behind a wall. The Force was there and ripe for being used with creativity.
Breathing deeply Superious gathered his Force and hurled a pillar back at Silas, fights are not exclusively fought with Sabers, a good fighter uses whatever is on hand at the time. This fight has gotten very interesting indeed.
