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Pleased that her opinions had been supported by the other visiting dignitaries, Isla was somewhat suprised when Aerarii Tithe
ajourned so quickly, did he feel he had misjudged the room and was now having to quickly restrategise, interesting. She felt it a shame that she had been the first to talk down his proposal, but as she was probably the most likely to be receptive to begin with, it should send the right message without seeming too combatative.
As the Alliance delegation walked out of the room she smiled at Baron Reinhardt Ström
Before excusing herself as well, she sent a few notes to SAINT and updated Pietro Demici
of the progress, or current lack of. She doubted he would have acted any differently to the initial proposals. She walked out into the courtyard and felt the sunshine on her face, it was lovely to feel the light on her and she made a brief prayer.
It wasn't long before she saw one of the Alliance approaching Adhira Chandra
, previous Chancellor of the Alliance and a follower of the light. Her Chancellorship had only barely overlapped with Isla's rise to prominence within the ranks of the Crusade, but she knew that the woman was instrumental in the Csilla negotiations. "Madame Chancellor, its not an intrusion at all, I am just enjoying the surroundings myself it really is beautiful here." It was, despite the fact that beauty on naboo could be a little superficial, it was undeniably pretty, and the warmth of the sun was delightful.
"Such serenity is tricky to find, I have my own little oasis on Lur, but it is dreadfully cold there in the winters." she laughed, she loved her Castle but the weather always made people wonder why she lived there.
Linking arms with the Ex-chancellor she began to walk "I would love to accompany you of course, but not doubt a woman such as yourself rarely takes walks with foreign polticians without some intention." Isla let at a small laugh. "I am intrigued by your thoughts, away from the negotiating table. The Chancellor is correct of course, for the need of a unified force, but the language he uses invites resistance."
She much preferred the way the ex-chancellor had described things, the difference between command and coordination may seem purely semantic, but it was a massive difference in political terms, of course the Ashlans would be willing to allow the Alliance to lead the coordination efforts, but to put all of their forces jnder direct command would limit flexibility, and the Ashlans needed to remain fluid in the face of this threat. She could not imagine the likes of Eina L'lerim-Vandiir
, Geiseric
, or Heinrich Faust
Waiting on ceremony for diplomatic permission to take the fight straight to the enemy.
Everything nearly faded to black. The piercing blow sucked in all life from his bones and in one swift strike he had nearly been done in. He collapsed, falling to the shattered earth as fickle glass textured shards of reality, tears in the fabric of this universe crumbled around him as his knees met the ground.
Betrayal.
Treachery from his own blood.
The wound was fresh, hot, and entirely unexpected. The act in itself was an inevitability, an action that was born from the Sith teachings. The timing, however, was something he never could have foreseen. Perhaps it was the fog of the shatterpoint, the certainty of his hold over her, or just his plain arrogance that had convinced him that she had not the strength to oppose him.
The Dark Lord gasped in the solid earth, grasping for his lightsaber as it tumbled before him.
"Jem."
His vision was blurry, yet even hindered by the fog of eternity he could see the Dark Daughter turn her weapon on herself. He immediately scowled aloud in guttural pain as she pulled the trigger on herself.
He coughed blood aloud and in a bellowing roar, cried out in defiance. The Dark Voice clung to life in the face of certain death. Calling upon the Dark Side, one could in fact use it to heal, but, such power often came at a terrible price. By focusing on the pain and anguish of himself and others, he fueled the dark side in a desperate attempt to reinvigorate himself and mend the tattered flesh.
Blood watering from his respective husk came to a halt, his wound, the great hole in his chest only partially closed, keeping him alive off his own hatred and eternal drive to see the galaxy die.
The Sith’ari rose.
Activating his lightsaber with a hiss as he continued to roar out in defiance. The Sith Master turned to his daughter quickly,
“Weak. Like your Mother.”
He gazed upward as the storm now untethered, the ritual now unbound spiraled out of control. Soon enough he could hear the whispers of the dead, those whom had perished under his reign and those who’s essences were tied with that of the Force. The dead of Csilla, the Jedi that had passed, the guiding force of all Lightsworn arrayed against his dark ritual.
They cast their hope into one individual. One Jedi. One Sword.
The Dark Lord took off in a dead sprint, leaping into the air with his shattered flesh into a dreaded vault seeking purchase with his crimson blade against that of the Sword.
The Branchlurker reeled back as it’s limb was lost, shattered. Shrieking in bloodlust it attempted to grasp any in it’s throes, true to it’s nature fighting until life would be snuffed out or it was put down.
As Tor’r came crashing down and Romul Saxon
prepared to clash with him, ear axe in hand. The Horned Wolf was hit by the sideward glancing blow of a wayward crane that connected immediately with the rampaging Branchlurker. The beast howled out in agony, pinned for a brief moment.
The Mandalorian skid against the hangar floor, jet pack cutting out as he tumbled and rolled. Immediately the Mandalorian attempted to recover, in immense pain from the physical force. He drew his short swords from his back and found himself beset upon by the Enclave Warmaster.
The Horned Wolf dipped, ducked, and dodged as much as he could in a clumsy manner of recovery and survival. Where one blow nearly connected he’d attempt to counter, skidding his blades in a scissor fashion around the axe to try and disarm his opponent, thus robbing him of his offensive. He needed to follow his momentum and not fight it or else the brute force of the weapon would surely see the day in his favor.
The two deadlocked, eye to eye. Tor’r made his move to try and disarm him.
As Hordes they might one day be. Hordes of Tython's woe!
Spector of Keth loomed somewhere in the dark far from here, sensing, demanding more of his latest masterpiece, all weakness was to be crushed from his dead eyes. Unlike the Jedi Master, the attention on the shade did not hold the same caring hand or supportive gesture for its latest creation, there was just thick loathed malice overwatching all. Creations to be improved in each revision, the ghosts of the many acolytes and creations that had fallen might be sensed watching the battle unfold in glimpses. A growing army of shadows being cultivated over the years, observing from afar.
This was their avatar!
Seeking to find fresh earth with new life, this master of shadow, began preparing to force drain, heal and renew. But it had no respite! Out of the black madness Tython's defender rose up higher. The Jedi strode forward again, avatar raising its mace and staff, only to be blasted by a force light so bright, its broken souls, shades of what were, screeched against the edge of it. Forcing it back.
Waves of Darkness (Light Shield)
The Jedi Master was slowly learning the weaknesses of this horrific foe. Light, of course, blinding force light repelled the shade instinctively, it could not stand within the light expelled. Waves of darkness coming from its wounds again began to pool around it protectively, shielding its form against the blinding Jedi beacon.
As the next attack came, the already controlled chaos now seemed to threaten to burst out of the form, wrenched around its edges. It was all the shade could do to defend against this potent psychic attack, barely keeping itself together, rolling around from the torment within. "They belong to Tython," the chill of the wraith's many voices hissed back, but it was staggered, internally struggling and something terrible was happening inside! Wars within its form taking place, and internal lightning strikes across the mass of black clouds were momentarily blinding.
Below it volcanic shifting rock started to turn to soil with the Jedi's weathering effects, caught up in the storm's maelstrom it swung with staff one way and mace the other, trying to simply crush Caltin between them. Around their battle of course Jedi called wind and lightning to strike, black rain of lies running along the earth into small channels of water. The shade was struck again with multiple bolts, perhaps Caltin was too in this sort of unpredictable attack. There were definite weak points in the armor and form to exploit, it was bleeding black ash.
Vanagor began to pull at the crab armor, its vong form wrestling with the Jedi Master. Titanic as it was between these two struggling giants. The Jedi had succeeded in grasping the huge mace to blowback into it, while the Shade's staff was again coming again to smash him across the other side of his jaw for his trouble! Once more he had identified the ritual could damage itself, now with its own weapon! He was learning the strategy to beat it!
Yet.. the entity saw the damage below it, the wrecked volcanic ground that Caltin had tried to cultivate, and did what any insane Keth creation would do. Sacrificing its mace that Caltin sort to hold onto, freeing itself, folding space and teleporting backward! It assisted him! Sacrifice to gain, the oldest Kethenite law.
Sith Barrage (Ground)
From under the ground. Right below Caltin large chunks of stone and soil were to be expelled by pressured lightning blasts. Like the volcano's formation, the shade learned from every act. Now lifeless liquid burst upward, drained from where it had fed. Black liquid swelling under his feet seeking to drag Caltin choking downward in a lifeless quicksand, perhaps not near the potency of actual hot lava it mirrored deeper below, but horrific nonetheless! He better mind his toes, there was lava down there!
Sith Phantasms
"None die alone." Twisting an old adage.
For that was not the worst of this attack. Under this onslaught from the determined Jedi master. The terrible result of unleashing a psychic blast upon a chorus of wailing souls, seeking to expel them and their tormented misery was taking place. Again something which was unexpected, and unknown to the shade's chorus. Three Sith Phantoms were forming beside it, souls released from their torment, already mad, driven further insane by the psychic attack from the Jedi's weapon. For the first time, the entity knew fatigue, this Sith Sorcery came with a significant cost. Black silhouettes, taking whatever form might inspire the most misery or torment, perhaps their former living bodies, they threw themselves at Caltin, trying to drag him below the liquefying earth!
Ritual within a Ritual of a Ritual! #Ritual-ception
One day perhaps an army of shades… the Lost Legion of Tython.
Summary of Actions
Waves of Darkness hold back force light.
Encouraged by the Jedi, weather effects keep landing around them, softening the ground and landing a few strikes on the shade.
The vong armor takes further ripping damage from the fight. Its not looking good!
The Shade aims a staff blow across caltin's jaw. The Shade sacrifices its mace to gain distance. Caltin potentially has it as a weapon.
The Jedi's psychic attack on the mad chorus within the shade drives it further insane.
The Shade assists Caltins attack on the ground! Further liquifying the surface.
Three Souls from the Ritual are released as Phantasms, trying to drag Caltin into a pit of black quicksand, lava beneath might prove hazardous!
A sharp metallic clang would resound over the ridge instead of a rolling, thunderous boom as the Wardog met the Vizsla halfway mid air and blocked the Vizsla’s attack, preventing the blow from landing by swinging her left cybernetic arm at the shaft of the power hammer. Although the giant’s grip over the weapon wavered not despite the Wardog’s block, her inhumanly strong swing was enough to cause him to momentarily lose his balance mid air, swinging to the side along with the hammer in his hands.
Unable to recover quickly with the cumbersome weapon in his hands, the Wardog would cleverly exploit the upper hand she gained, furthermore. The Alor would grimace silently in severe pain as not even a pained grunt or shout escaped his lips while he endured the hot, punishing flames that jutted out the Wardog’s plasma caster. Although his armor held up against the flesh charring heat, the flames seeped over and around his broad chestplate, burning through and setting aflame parts of the flight suit jacket in the process.
Though instead of pushing further into exploiting her upper hand in the fight taking place mid-air, the giant would notice the brief pause in her attack pattern, realizing how she tactically placed herself mid-air with the help of her jetpack. Swiftly realizing she was trying to use him as a shield against the incoming retaliation from others, the giant quickly banked right with his jetpack, putting some distance between himself and the Wardog; a disintegrator shot snapped past where he just was a moment ago with a distinct whizz.
The giant would reach for a particle blaster pistol from his left holster as several blaster bolts whizzed and cracked past him as he continued to glide mid-air with his jetpack, staying on the move for the moment as a lightning bolt arched in the air and slammed against Shai, followed up by a flurry of blaster bolts and a missile sending her sprawling to the ground amidst a cloud of dust. A momentary silence would fall over the ridge; the distant rumbling of war stretching across the sector ever present. Rocks and gravel pulverized and shifted beneath his feet as the giant landed. He kept the blaster pistol in a low-ready position, with the power hammer still in his firm grasp in his right hand. Making use of the brief pause in combat, the giant went about smothering the small cluster of flames over his flight suit jacket with his left hand.
The battered warrior pushed herself up and knelt on the ground. Shrapnel and charred fur dotted her exposed face and an eye flickered for a moment as she glared at her attackers. A bloody, durasteel grin glimmered against the lightning, explosions and hellfire around them.
As the Wardog mouthed off and pushed herself up from the ground to a kneel, the giant shot a questioning glance at his surroundings regarding the source of the electric bolt. He briefly looked around, only to be surprised by the presence of a being he did not expect to see that day. <”...The kark?”> he muttered to himself in an undertone as he gazed upon none other than Xyoz from underneath his glowing visor. What was that scoundrel doing here? From the sound of it, the Wardog was just as surprised as the giant to see him here.
Her repulsor boots launched her into the air as she holstered one pistol while firing with the other. Her free hand briefly reached into a satchel before she flung several metallic spheres at the trio of attackers.
He would be given no respite to ponder further, as the familiar beep of armed thermal detonators reached his ears, followed after the sharp howls of the Wardog’s blaster pistol as she took to the skies with her repulsorlift boots. To minimize his exposure to the incoming hail of blaster bolts, the giant crouched as a particle bolt slammed and detonated against his right shoulder plate. Momentarily rocking backwards as the shot met his armor while he crouched, the giant quickly raised his left vambrace towards the flurry of incoming thermal detonators in the air while under fire. With a loud sonic boom, he discharged a wide cone of blast from his weaponized repulsor on his left vambrace, blasting back the grenades flung at him, back to sender.
As the grenades thrown his way flew back at Shai, the giant held his breath to stabilize himself further as he snapped the pistol at one of the cluster of spherical grenades flung back at her, and gently squeezed the blaster pistol’s trigger once they would be close enough to the Wardog. The sharp whine of the blaster pistol was soon drowned out by the occuring chain explosion. He slowly stood up from his crouched stance afterwards as he holstered the blaster, and grasped the power hammer with both hands once again. Taking up a defensive stance and ready to strike at his old friend, he watched and listened to Xyoz.
Every encounter with the Shistavanen, he continued to surprise the Vizsla. He had remarkable regeneration capabilities; he had witnessed that one time in the past, but what he saw now was new to him. Fast, agile, and strong as a demon. A freak of nature! He did not know just what in Death’s name he was, or the full extent of his capabilities.
Although he gave him credit for his efforts to try and persuade her, he knew she would not relent so easily. Not yet. Although he would wait for the results of the Scoundrel’s efforts to come to fruition in silence, for what it’s worth. As he lied in wait he would be prepared to spring into action once more, ready for what he thought to be inevitable; waiting at the ready for the Wardog’s next move as his broad chest rose and fell slowly, silently fighting a new wave of pain with each drawn breath as the burnt flesh strained and relaxed, tormenting him.
Site Administrator: Tefka Annihilation Duration: April 15th - May 15th Attackers Defenders Brotherhood of the Maw and the New Sith Order Darth Solipsis Jem Fossk The Mongrel Darth Caelitus Tu'teggacha Kralmus Orr Darth Mori Khamul Kryze Kyrel Ren Zachariel Steelblood Darth Ptolemis...
Site Administrator: Tefka Annihilation Duration: April 15th - May 15th Attackers Defenders Brotherhood of the Maw and the New Sith Order Darth Solipsis Jem Fossk The Mongrel Darth Caelitus Tu'teggacha Kralmus Orr Darth Mori Khamul Kryze Kyrel Ren Zachariel Steelblood Darth Ptolemis...
Objective: Defend the planet at all costs. Location: Tython Orbit Equipment: EU-10a Advanced Tactical Pistol | Overseer-pattern HPI Biochip | Hersir Mk.I Military Attire Ship: Angyali Nyugalom Writing With: Defenders The chorus of voices faded into the background as Admiral Mith'akis'ormo...
Objective: Defend the planet at all costs. Location: Tython Orbit Equipment: EU-10a Advanced Tactical Pistol | Overseer-pattern HPI Biochip | Hersir Mk.I Military Attire Ship: Angyali Nyugalom Writing With: Defenders The chorus of voices faded into the background as Admiral Mith'akis'ormo...
Objective: Defend the planet at all costs. Location: Tython Orbit Equipment: EU-10a Advanced Tactical Pistol | Overseer-pattern HPI Biochip | Hersir Mk.I Military Attire Ship: Angyali Nyugalom Writing With: Defenders The chorus of voices faded into the background as Admiral Mith'akis'ormo...
Objective: Defend the planet at all costs. Location: Tython Orbit Equipment: EU-10a Advanced Tactical Pistol | Overseer-pattern HPI Biochip | Hersir Mk.I Military Attire Ship: Angyali Nyugalom Writing With: Defenders The chorus of voices faded into the background as Admiral Mith'akis'ormo...
[/div][/div] MY FATHER'S BLOOD Allies: Mandalorian Enclave l Defenders of Tython l Shakka Bralor l Runi Kuryida l Kaz Krayt l Gwyneira Krayt l Vulcan Krayt Not Allies: Attackers of Tython l Marlon Sularen l Derix Tirall Equipment: Beskar'Gam l Crushgaunts l Disruptor Pistol l Beskar...
Wearing: xxx Gear: arm, saber Allies: Defenders Engaging: Caltin Vanagor, Open He could sense it in the air and smell it on the wind. War had come to Tython. The sky grew dark as the massive fleets of both sides littered the orbit above. It would be a wonder if anyone made it off Tython alive...
Wearing: xxx Gear: arm, saber Allies: Defenders Engaging: Caltin Vanagor, Open He could sense it in the air and smell it on the wind. War had come to Tython. The sky grew dark as the massive fleets of both sides littered the orbit above. It would be a wonder if anyone made it off Tython alive...
Location: Omen's Personal Venator Class Tagged: Fenn Stag | Shakka Bralor | Runi Kuryida | Kaz Krayt | Gwyneira Krayt | Vulcan Krayt | @Omen Mereel Verin Oldo | Vemric Keldra | Isla Draellix | Khione | Kranak Vizsla Omen stared out at his company of orphans from a shipping container as...
Allies: Coren Starchaser Celeste Rigel Caltin Vanagor Tracyn Ordo Zark San Tekka | Team Lightside Enemies: Darth Xanesh (engaging) Darth Libertas (in vicinity) | Team Darkside Location: Ruined Temple The battle was joined now in full, with the Jedi strike teams of Vanagor and Starchaser...
Location: Ruins of the Jedi Temple - Tython Objective: Uncover the Secrets of Jedi Droids Dialogue Legend: │ “Verbal” Direct Engagement: Project Uriel Alessandra was fast, but in Uriel, it seemed that she had found her match or possibly even, a superior. The Chaplain brought her energy sword...
Location: Ruins of the Jedi Temple - Tython Objective: Uncover the Secrets of Jedi Droids Dialogue Legend: │ “Verbal” Direct Engagement: Project Uriel Alessandra was fast, but in Uriel, it seemed that she had found her match or possibly even, a superior. The Chaplain brought her energy sword...
Allies: Theoretically Maw Enemies: Coren Starchaser (Engaging), Celeste Rigel, Thurion Heavenshield (in vicinity), GA/NIO people. Location: Somewhere near Kaleth Libertas had walked away from the maimed Padawan, when suddenly the source of the emanation of Light confronted her. "She murdered...
Lady Eina L'lerim-Vandiir The First and the Light of Ashla Heiress and Princess of the Eternal Empire and Terraris; Angelic Mascot and Representative of the Ashlan Crusade; Living Saint of Ashla Eternal Empire's Ambassador to the Ashlan Crusade; Matriarch of the Valkyrja; Leader of Sanctuary and...
Lady Eina L'lerim-Vandiir The First and the Light of Ashla Heiress and Princess of the Eternal Empire and Terraris; Angelic Mascot and Representative of the Ashlan Crusade; Living Saint of Ashla Eternal Empire's Ambassador to the Ashlan Crusade; Matriarch of the Valkyrja; Leader of Sanctuary and...
THE END IS THE BEGINNING :: Hanger, Avatar of War The Speaker of the Mandokarla's helm pivoted a hair to the side as she stood before the onslaught of the corrupt forces. Something was coming. Lips hidden by an avian helm turned down at the corners sensing a dark power whose attention had...
Location: Ruins of the Jedi Temple - Tython Objective: Save a Sister Dialogue Legend: │ “Verbal” Direct Engagement: Project Uriel In spite of the looming presence of the crimson eye and the gruesome, battered form of her chassis, Alessandra smiled. In spite of everything, it seemed that...
Location: Ruins of the Jedi Temple - Tython Objective: Save a Sister Dialogue Legend: │ “Verbal” Direct Engagement: Project Uriel In spite of the looming presence of the crimson eye and the gruesome, battered form of her chassis, Alessandra smiled. In spite of everything, it seemed that...
Breathe, child. She inhaled sharply. The feeling like sucking in broken glass. Just breathe. The pain didn't matter. It was all she could do to stay alive. See? All better. There was nothing to see. She was entombed in darkness. The monsters can't hurt you anymore. Consciousness failed...
Flooded Plains -: Romi Jade His first answer was an earnest smile, one touched with sadness however; Jace missed the lives of his friends, he realised, the times he was one able to share with them all were now lost to him. Held in stasis, encased in a tube, a victim to one more beast than man...
Flooded Plains -: Romi Jade His first answer was an earnest smile, one touched with sadness however; Jace missed the lives of his friends, he realised, the times he was one able to share with them all were now lost to him. Held in stasis, encased in a tube, a victim to one more beast than man...
+ W A R D O G . P A G E C L A I M + TYTHON | TEMPLE VALLEY BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | SCARHOUNDS ALLIES: MAW | Thomas Barran | The Mongrel | OPEN ENEMIES: BURN THEM ALL | OPEN ENGAGING: Kranak Vizsla | Sasha Kryze | Ghalric Rau | Xyoz GEAR: In bio | Standard loadout | shield DYNASTIES AND...
Moving West of Akar Kesh Tag: Open What was Tython's pain and misery, what was its fate, that is what shaped the Shade, Fed it and gave it a malformed identity. Shadow rolled across its form, shifting, swirling, an unsettling sight for those who gazed upon it. Moving out from the bunker, the...
Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Archon of the Primyn Group Empress of Terraris, Supreme Commander of the Terraris Command, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium Objective: Try to...
Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Archon of the Primyn Group Empress of Terraris, Supreme Commander of the Terraris Command, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium Objective: Try to...
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She felt warmth; to tell the truth, Eina expected that nothing would await her, total destruction. Instead, she felt warmth and peace. Something that she felt when she was born. That was exactly the same feeling. The feeling that was almost always there with her that she was never alone. I mean, she was alone, but she wasn't. It is difficult to explain about a three-hundred-year-old entity. For a few moments she saw nothing but the golden light. Before this, she was on Tython in the dark, but now…
She could feel Gei's aura around her own aura as her husband embraced her gently this time. It is not in a physical sense at the moment, as they were both mere immaterial souls. But there it was, the dyad was just as strong, if not stronger, than before. Although, Eina may not have known, but Darth Vinaze
was right when he showed those images to Celeste Demici
(Hyrva) about Gei and Eina's love; a love strong beyond mortality.
The prophecy foretold then was now formed, while reality on Tython was interrupted. Maybe that's why, but the dark entity was right…
As Eina began to perceive reality, she recognized where they were. The Seat of Ashla was the place. In this case, not the city, but the place that was closest to Oversoul. The two Valkyrja, who brought the souls here, were not with them , only the two of them, Gei and Eina. They could both feel themselves much more than before. It was as if they knew a lot more than they had heard so many voices, but they were friendly, warm and kind.
It was as if they were both somehow different, part of something they hadn’t before. In something bigger, like they know more about everything than before. It might have been more familiar to Eina, as she was a creature of the Netherworld, and soon found out. As it happened, Gei already knew about it too, thanks to the dyad. They were both part of Ashla already. The Oversoul also accepted Eina as part of it/her. But before they could do anything else, a beautiful, golden-glossed entity appeared above the altar in the other part of the great hall.
It was partly like it was written in the religious books, but the couple could see the reality, in this case, in the fabric of the Nether, everywhere. That the whole place is imbued with her golden glow, Ashla was a part of everything, she was there everywhere and in everyone. She reached for the couple with a gentle motion. She didn't have to say anything, Eina and Gei understood perfectly without a word what the goddess wanted.
They could both see the event when Eina was born. None of them were wrong; no one knew so far, why and how, they were just guesses. Eina thought she was the atone for what her father had done. Gei liked to think that the woman was the reward for his devotion. And members of the Ashlan Crusade thought Ashla had created her…
They could see the spirits of Ingrid and Adrian touching each other, the golden weave that represented Ashla in the Force reached them. It was then that the energy was released that created Eina. Later, it was the same force that arranged for Geiseric and Eina to meet that day near the demon dragon. All it took was time, the two souls, the two people whom Ashla herself, the Force intended for each other, found each other after difficulties.
All their steps and actions led to this point.
And they persevered from the first moment beyond the last, even now. Where the fatigues and pains of previous years seemed so weightless, there was nothing but peace, calm, and light. Ashla still didn’t speak words, but if the following feelings had been words, she would have said something like this:
"I know you’re tired, but you know the fight with the Bogan doesn’t end at the Netherworld. You have always been one of my most loyal and devoted followers, even if one of you does not honour me as a goddess. You are my Shield and my Light. Both worlds still need you. Your journeys are not over in any world yet. Both worlds will need even more light, and your guidance, your help. You are both part of me now, you will know my wishes and wills. You will be the Shield and Light of my will, in every sense. You will be representing me here at the Netherworld and Realspace from now." she told them.
The golden weaving in reality's fabric completely surrounded the couple and filled them with warmth and light. They both changed. Gei, from the former formless soul, looked again as before, and as is the case in religion, two beautiful and large wings appeared on his back. As a soul, Eina most closely resembled to her original Valkyrja form, but now she, too, has begun to change, taking on the usual angelic form she has used among Ashlan Crusade members for years. In addition to her Valkyrja form, it became her new, permanent form. They were both similar to Children of Ashla and the Valkyrja, but there were much more now than those.
Ashla shaped them into something different, more than a Valkyrja, and more than a Children of Ashla. They were both incarnations of light and Ashla, representing exactly what is sacred in the Ashlan religion and what represents Ashla herself.
"You are already part of me, you can come back here at any time and then be yourself again when you want it. You will not lose yourself, never. This is your reward. And one more thing…"
At that moment, a small portion of the gold and gold-silver light flowed out of them, and then began to coalesce. Eina and Gei's dyad got even tighter, even stronger; and they could watch the same thing that happened when Eina was born. But now it was not Eina's rebirth that happened, but their child. Eina was born an adult, but this child is not. The two energies formed a little girl, a baby with tiny angel wings, who was finally "born" fully materialised in Gei's hands.
"You are my champions, my avatars. I know you could rest a little, but Tython and the champions defending it need you. Just do the same as before, go now, my champions!"
Spiritual fatigue began to disappear; these feelings were replaced by the feeling that Ashla, Oversoul, represents. Seat of Ashla began to fade, then they were back on Tython…
It was still dark, and storms raged on the planet. After what Solipsis did, there were scars as well everywhere on the reality's fabric. Lightning zigzagged through the sky, the stormy wind raging, giving a haunting sound over the merciless battlefield. Tython itself rebelled, cried, bleed as its beloved daughter, Ashla, cracked and screamed at Darth Solipsis
' actions. It seemed that in this dark hour, darkness would sit and triumph over the ancient home of the Je'daii order, which the Jedi consider a sacred place. The dark ritual of Maw has already set in motion the turning points.
But when perhaps everything seemed to have no chance for Tython and Ashla left the defenders, the storm suddenly began to subside. At first, the wind slowed, the lightning flew farther and farther away from the fighting, and they were pushed out to a place where they could no longer cause trouble for anyone. The red-and-black clouds seemed to begin to thin, and then the golden light, the sunshine, and perhaps Force light also broke through the clouds.
Outside, meanwhile, the light grew stronger, temporarily wiping out the storm and stormclouds. The light flooded everyone with warmth, and the whole moment of calm was peaceful, warm. The defenders could feel peace, tranquillity, and hope. Ashla's presence in the Force as the goddess of light answered prayers, calls. The goddess did not leave those who needed her in the hour of need.
And the goddess sent hope into the darkness. In the direction of the sun's rays, two very strong Light Side aura could be felt by everyone. Those who had already met them could recognize them. They were Shield of Ashla and Light of Ashla. Lord Geiseric and Lady Eina. But now they are different than before. Geiseric now had angelic wings as well, just like Eina. Whatever Khamul wanted to achieve by killing them was unsuccessful.
Because Ashla decided otherwise…
In the most desperate hour, the goddess sent back her two new champions, her two Avatars, to help the defenders win. Ashla's strength was able to create an eye of the storm over the battlefield for a short time.
As she continued to jink and roll in evasive actions, Ari felt a twitch tug at her mind - as if an alarm was screaming at her soul. pulling hard out of the plane of combat and into another plane, she flipped one of her cannons around, facing astern. Rolling hard, she sent a flurry of bolts backwards towards the incoming missile, one of them hitting it just right to send the missile careening off its course, detonating off into the dark of space.
"Give the souls of my planet your regards!" Ari would pull her fighter into a Scissors maneuver, spraying the area with a flurry of bolts with her portside blaster cannon while the starboard one swung back around to face her bow. Ari would do her best to stay as close as possible to the rear of her enemy - close enough that her Concussion missiles would be far to dangerous to use, but also so that if their positions were reversed or the met each other head-on then any munitions of her enemy would likewise be a dubious prospect at best.
Revenant Squadron - Ten
Flight Lieutenant Qellene Tyliame - A-Wing Pilot
Tren Chaar
, Ran Serys
, Kaul "Joker" Emos
, Mylo Thorne , Leon Gallo
, Artemis Toth
, Zev Garallia
, Tristram Vos There were moments in her tenure as one of Revenant's pilots that Qellene wanted to put a bullet between her commander's eyes, to kill Chaar's condescending... arrogance... to forcibly break from his glory-seeking suicide missions. She hated the man; she hated his knack for killing joy and drowning rare moments of levity in bitter....
And yet, as fire brushed the metal skin of her A-wing, Qellene felt like she understood the commander's maddening negativity, and the reasons behind his sternness."Keep your head in the game, Garallia!"she barked, and watched the younger pilot darting by to flee a seeker missile,"Twelve, cover Eleven, will you!?"
Qellene threw her craft into what may have been interpreted as a glide by a less-informed spectator, igniting her cannons to tear into a passing TIE/fd.
Halfway through an evasive turn, she caught the frame of the Eradicator, blazing with the fire of its own armament as the Brotherhood broke deeper into allied lines. They still had a chance to take this destroyer out of action, to lighten the load weighing on Tython's fracturing surface.
Apparently Chaar realized that opportunity as well, but a different motive must have hid itself behind his decision to grab its tailcoats.
Nonetheless, they sought the same end result. Qellene chimed her comms. "Copy. Nine, take the flight's lead. Six, well, let's move in. Lead the way." She prepped her countermeasures and tapped a button at her dashboard, feeling the vibrations in the hull of her interceptor as both pilot and craft began to accelerate forward.
Eyes watched the fire serpent snap closer and closer to the dense flammable dust cloud, a smirk became apparent on her face in anticipation for the explosion she had set up herself. More bolts of plasma both blue and yellow hailed towards them, of which carnifex was slapping and defending the two against the attacks. When the snake combusted its force was increased by something similar of a 75lbs bomb thanks to the set up she did, over all it was hard to guess the over all intensity. Its shock wave blew away all the remaining dust. Teresa lowered her hands in which she did a small hop of excitement feeling the vibrations ripple through her body.
She Clipped the Double blade she had picked up off the battle field still hoping to bleed the crystals inside while the world was dying and Kaine was doing his ritual. It was easy to say she had a plan herself, but these nuisances was getting in the way. She locked her eyes onto the Basilisk as its Ion engine screamed rushing towards them. Volleys of plasma hurled towards not just Kaine but her as well.
Both wings did a powerful beat quickly pushing her backwards to narrowly dodge the first shot. Her stance would be lower making a smaller target preparing to move for the next shot. She made a quick glance at the Dark Lord soaking up the damage in an ability that dumbfounded her. Seeing how the man used the force so effortlessly, it made her hopeful of the future providing she survived. As more shots came at her she did not have any other choice but to push up into the air forcing the vehicle to choose a target.
Though as she looked down it seemed it was great timing with shadows reaching from the ground screeching not just the Dark Lord and the many names he had acquired but they screeched for her too.
Such screams pleased her, Teresa did not recall every kill she had ever made, faces that inevitably forgotten. Like a symphony their voices bringing excitement till being silenced by Kaine.
Having reached a good height and feeling the air between her feathers she began to pick up speed. Teresa moved to swoop down by carnifex, her hand reached out pulling at the man with the force. In a swift motion, her legs wrapped around the mans waist and one hand tucking between the armor that covered his shoulder blades. "Feth." She almost squeaked out while working harder to maintain speed. "Use your legs to control our direction. I will feel the shift."
The other hand that held onto the saber was ready to defend against attacks.
Dust cloud went boom after been ignighted adding around 75 pounds of explosive force on top of added force to the exploding serpent
Teresa has picked carni up and he is now in control of direction
“Oi, watch who you’re pushin’ buddy,” she sounded almost drunk in her current stupor. Nonetheless Amani lacked the strength or the motivation to resist, and plopped to the ground and against the sheet of metal beside her.
“Yes,” She patted the padawan’s shoulder, “It’s not a proper tourniquet unless it hurts like hell. Remember that.” There seemed to be a moment of passing lucidity, where she realized the implication of her own statement.
But such comprehension faded as quickly as it came, with another wave of lethargy.
“Hmm…” there was a long pause where she stared blankly, silently. To the point where enough time passed that Amani seemingly forgot he had asked a question to begin with, when she suddenly spoke again, “Several.” She gave a single nod as if to confirm her own words. The woman was a medic after all. It would stand to reason she had plenty of supplies stored away. And if there was any shred of fortune left in the galaxy, at least some of it would have survived the crash.
Kai started rummaging around in the wreckage, using the Force to guide him. He eventually located a medkit, the duraplast outer casing a bit banged up by the crash, but still intact. Hopping back to Amani, he opened it and began fiddling with the contents.
He knew enough basic first aid to figure out how to bandage her leg wound, which seemed to be the most pressing of her injuries. <What else hurts?> he asked her. Eyeing the universal plasma fluid sacs, he then glanced at the smeared blood on her green skin and the hazy look in her eyes. <Also, would you like a blood transfusion?>
“What’s… poppin?” Draco said as her light side master came to her aid and tended to her wounds, wincing as that Golden Ichor healed her and boosted her with energy, completely renewing her will and vigor. She will complete this mission. She will deliver the payload. She will be victorious. She was thankful the warhead didn’t detonate either, and so she picked it up, putting it on her back with it magnetically connecting to her, and charged forward once more, not even waiting for reinforcements.
She kinda figured they would follow behind her as she began cleaving through Mawite soldiers once more, carving her way to the almost destroyed cruiser and finding it much more easier now that most of the combatants were either obliterated by debris or frozen solid, but she couldn’t let her guard down that fast, keeping an eye on the radar in her armor for any hostiles that threatened to move towards her while she reached her destination to plant that explosive device then high tail it out of there. Employing the Joestar’s famous final technique: NIGERUNDAYOOOOOOOOOOO! SMOKEY!!!
He uses his wrist rockets to tip over a huge shipping crate, trying to crush Javik
Waves of electricity washed over Javik as Kralmus hosed him down with the lightning gun, laughing madly as he did. Though the laughter did not feel great given his cracked ribs, he just couldn't help himself. He was high on the exhilaration of wielding a weapon that could do at least some damage to the nigh-invincible armor of the commandos, enjoying inflicting actual pain on opponents who so easily shrugged off conventional attacks. Combined lightning gun fire had been enough to cook several commandos alive on the way here, and with the help of Vorm's force abilities he'd been able to neutralize their commander, feats that blasters could never have accomplished.
But this time his lightning gun fired alone, and Vorm was too busy to hold his target in place.
So that everything-proof armor held up. Although the lightning crackled over the commando that Kralmus had targeted, lashing out with enough amperage to stop hearts and leave brains little more than smoking ruins, it did not truly penetrate. Javik began to rise despite the full force of the weapon being focused on him, apparently little more than inconvenienced by it, and brought his rotary blaster to bear. "Sithspit," Kralmus cursed. His armor was not so powerful as that of the Enclave warriors; already struck with several powerful blows, it would not hold up against a repeater cannon. He needed to move, to get into cover before he got hit, or he would surely die.
Tossing the lightning gun aside, the cannibal jumped and rolled over his shoulder, landing behind a battered cargo crate just as the heavy fire of the rotary blaster began to stitch its way across the spot where he'd been standing. He was safe for the moment, but he was pinned down; sticking his head out of cover would surely get it blown off. He needed to get back out there, though; Vorm was in trouble, forced to retreat behind a pair of Bloodsworn while his mutant flesh began to mend. If Javik got the chance to gang up on the Ren again, it might be enough to finish him off, and then the combined Enclave forces would come hunting for Kralmus next. He had to keep that from happening.
So what could he do? Blasters wouldn't do jack chit against that armor, and a lone lightning gun wasn't enough to breach it, either. Glancing at the cargo crate in front of him, the cannibal had an idea. Forty feet long and fully-loaded with heavy starship parts, the massive crate had to weigh a good sixty thousand pounds. If something like that were to, say, fall directly on you, even super-beskar (or whatever the Enclave was using for their commandos) wouldn't be able to keep you from being squashed like a womp rat hit by a podracer. Taking aim at the top of the container, Kralmus fired off a pair of wrist rockets in quick succession... just enough energy to tip the whole thing over.
With a mighty creaaaaaaak, the thirty-ton metal shipping crate began to fall, headed right for Javik...
“How about everything?” She spat out a dry laugh, in some attempt to seem more healthy that she was in truth. Her skin had become noticeably wan and clammy.
“Ya got blood?” Amani shook her head, “I mean, like, the right blood?” Giving medical lessons was a mite challenging when one couldn’t stand upright without falling unconscious. She wasn’t even certain if he needed it, but at this point she was more or less rambling.
“This vein here,” Amani tapped the inside of her arm, “Looks big and blue. On me, anyway. Er, I guess it looks blue for humans, too. Doesn’t it?”
<Okay, what else hurts the most?> Kai tried again.
He held the sacks up to her face, reading off the label. <It's universal plasma stabilization serum. I guess that means it can go in anybody.> Though he didn't know if it would actually help her. Did Amani need to have her blood stabilized? What did that even mean?
As the Hellions let loose with their payload of destruction, the Mawites kept hammering at the lines, steadily breaking away against the mercenaries. The initial vanguard buckled against the overwhelming onslaught as their lines were overrun, but they obeyed orders as word came to fall back and regroup. Soldiers piled into tanks and trucks as they moved back towards the Hellions’ right flank, they had their taste of the brutality the Maw was known for.
”Fix bayonets… prepare to defend yourselves!” The words boomed across the entrenched line on the first steps of the mountain as Jas and his company of soldiers made ready for the wave of zealots streaming towards them. When the Mawites drew into close quarter distance, flamethrowers and shotguns let loose on them as other units focused fire with repeaters and rifles on the points closing in the quickest.
It didn’t take long for carnage to erupt as the Mawites met the Hellions head first.
In that moment, hazard pay and the next day’s spoils melted away for one simple objective: Survival. Slaves and religious fanatics clashed with addicts, murderers, criminals and dregs of society, hoping to carve out an existence for themselves in a galaxy that did not want or need them. Shouts, curses and battle cries rang out as they met with the Maw’s forces, with rifles, then pistols, and finally bayonets, knives and fists to keep themselves, and their comrades, alive.
Jas was right in the thick of it with his men, slashing at any and all that clambered up the first steps of the mountain while the rest of the force moved into position. Their tanks and trucks moved up the mountain to keep their fire concentrated on the Maw below them, but the company of soldiers brought ferocity, rage and the will to survive, to bear on their enemy for the day. The worst enemy the mercenary force has encountered by far.
One Mawite stood out to him amidst the carnage around him, dressed in a brody helmet and gas mask, as he held a Mawite soldier in the air by the length of his bayonet in the man’s chest. ”Hazard pay better cover overtime…” He spoke up, mostly to himself, as he hurled the corpse back to their senders in front of him. ”MAWITE!” He roared as he brought his pistol up and fired at the man, his bayonet clutched firmly in his right hand. ”You better be worth today’s struggle!” He continued as he fired at other slaves encroaching upon him, clearing a way for him to meet the supposed leader of the force.
But as the first company fought hard, the rest of the army moved into position to spring their trap.
The Second Company was finally in position along the Mawites’ left flank, their guns and artillery readied along the mountains overlooking the battlefield. They let loose on the thousands of enemy combatants to split their attention as the initial vanguard regrouped and moved into the Mawites’ left flank down the mountain. They were battered and bruised, but they still had ammunition and functioning vehicles to fight back and claim vengeance for their fallen brothers and sisters in the trenches below.
All the while, the pile of death against the mountain served to be used as an obstacle as mutilated corpses were either used as cover, or thrown back at the Mawites to aid as a delay for the front line troopers. Even the lucky kitchen sink was used as a literal weapon by a drugged up trooper swinging and hurling it with malicious intent at his enemy.
The Shaman slowed her advance further at the woman's words. The avian-helm cocked slightly to the side as though in response. Silence reigned as Onrai extended a hand out toward the Mandalorian woman before her.
"You are mistaken." Runi's voice echoed out from the helmet with a calm not reflective of the chaotic surround with bolts flying and lightning guns flashing. "I know what you consider the true enemy. I do not believe it any more accurate than what most others would claim it to be either. That, however, is not what I meant." Obviously she believed Onrai to not fully grasp the true enemy either, but that was not the most important aspect in which the woman was mistaken.
"It is not the place for a Shaman to dictate the story of All that live in this day or the next. We touch the very essence of the Manda, but that does not give us the right to shape all things as we see fit. It is our task to guide the Many -- to enlighten and inform them -- so that they may write their own stories. The Mandokarla will not take sides in the endless philosophical dispute between Jedi and Sith, nor to seek glory and power to cement our names for generations to come." The tip of Runi's helm lifted and fell in a short nod. "Should we both survive this conflict, I would not oppose discussing our positions in detail. Perhaps it is we who may yet convince you."
Fighting midair wasn't something Kahlil would ever recommend. With only one arm, the sole saving grace was Kyrel was falling with him. His blade lashed out where it could as the Jedi defended himself with the broken remains of his cybernetic arm. Everything hurt. Bouncing off broken turf as the pair tumbled wasn't any good for anyone. Solely one sided here, though.
Ah, being a monster must be nice some times.
Ignoring the pang of jealousy though Kahlil's eyes narrowed on the beastly remains of what was once a man. No matter how much he cut, the dagger wasn't enough. Too short a blade to deal any lasting damage, too seeped in darkness to be an effective weapon. None the less he grit his teeth. Until he felt Valery heading their way. He ended up laughing. It was drown out by the wind ripping around them, but he really shouldn't of been surprised.
Her stubbornness was one of the reasons he loved her so.
Another punch in his face pulled him out of his introspection. He fanned his arms out, using the Force to slow his fall just enough to put some space between him and Kyrel. Blood leaked from his wounds, trailing in the air. He looked an absolute mess. The dagger wasn't going to be enough to stop Kyrel from his rampage. The fall would only slow him. And Valery was arriving in a ship.
The grip on his dagger tightened. He spoke, though his words couldn't be heard in the freefall. Calm took over his features as he brandished his dagger. Cracks formed along the blade. A faint glow of white, that grew as the cracks spread further through the corrupted steel. There was no doubt what he was doing was going to destroy the weapon. A part of him. His history. As a boy he used it to kill his best and only friend. A part of him had always clung to that moment. Kill or be killed.
The life of a Sith was no life. Shards of alchemized steel burst as the Light erupted from what remained of the weapon's blade. It shown like a lightsaber would, blindingly bright. And he swung. A blade of light, with no substance, no power to defend or harm. Only to purge the darkness forcing Kyrel to live in this state of undeath. He could only swing once, diving down towards the Ren before he felt something around him.
His drop stopped as he hovered in midair. Held aloft by Valery. His gaze shifted as he glanced towards her. Smiled.
"Then what do I consider the true enemy?" She asked. "Your history is fertile soil for tainted parables, a false mimic of the true story of what led your people to become as they are today. I know the truth. I have done terrible things in order to find this truth, and yet it terrorizes me still."
Onrai sighed. "The Father of Shadows awaits beyond the edge of the void. Nakhash will come one day. Abeloth and Akala were but children compared to he - and there are no Celestials to keep him bound. Your pitiful empire, bend and broken by infighting and the persistent boots of the Jedi and Sith, will not stand against him. Only through learning and understanding him and his effects on this galaxy might there be a chance of lasting survival." The arc of the whip crackled once more.
"I would prefer you merely surrender to me and be treated for your wounds. If you fall... your spirit will prove useful." She said.
“Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise."- Victor Hugo
Alright…
There was more than one way to defeat an opponent, you can learn about it. Learn about what it was capable of, what it was likely to do, and more importantly what was likely happen conversely. This may have been an avatar of something shadier in the realm of the planet Tython, maybe it was an amassing of a collection of already corrupted souls from the long lost city of Kaleth, it was a source of “Dark Side Energy” according to legend. It did not matter who they were, but they were the prisoner of this avatar, and the big man just learned this for sure. Of course, he already knew what the primary responsibility was, to escape.
Why not help facilitate this?
The aura of light, the continuous electrical fields, they were all tying things together, this avatar of sorts was going to be opened one way or the other and these souls would find their own end and by their own means. Waves of darkness would continue to be met by electrified waves of light. Those waves were meant to purify and penetrate his foe’s core and expand, the same premise as the last but to get at those souls deep within and bring about their designs and desires for expulsion. The massive Jedi Master wanted to tear this entity open from the inside. The mind stone would see to this.
The weather effects were working, in a manner of speaking, the ground was cooling, and the volcanic steam was also giving a more reflective feel to what he was doing. @Mishel’s effects on the Jedi were working, at least to his end, he did not know her, never met her, never knew that this was because of her, or her effects. His long fallen family held to an oath to keep him upright, strong, and holding together so that he could fight and stem the tide of whatever was going on. He may not be the central component or the focal point of this siege, but Vanagor was having some level of success. He was being engaged by others again, not just this entity.
He was no fool, Caltin could feel the effects of the ground below slowly slipping up and around him. This was not a natural effect of his actions or even some kind of side-effect of any of it either, this was manipulation on the part of the shade. However, what the avatar of the corrupted souls of Tython misunderstood was that Caltin wanted to destroy the ground. He was not doing so, he was easing the cooling of the volcanic flow.
Like I said… if I fall, then you will be coming down with me.
He wasn’t falling though, not today. Caltin had another trick he could pull out of his proverbial hat. This connection to the Force of his, this unique central electron-directed connection to the core of Midichlorians in his body, enhanced by the connection to his past and even in this case his future, was all electrical. The currents, the tendrils, the electrical fields, they were all already working as he eyed this monster. As he worked up a response, he was feeling the intervention… that of his family members one with the Force, the melds with other Jedi like Coren Starchaser
, Celeste Rigel
, Romi Jade
, even @Cotan Sar’andor and Zark San Tekka
he could feel them. This all allowed him to do what he was about to do.
Slowly bringing his hands together, the massive Jedi Master had done this before, he closed his fingers into fists and made himself into a 6’6” lightning rod. Slowly but surely, more and more electrical energy was pulled from the skies and into, around, and over him, until he threw it all at the avatar in a concerted consistent, an unstoppable shot at the foe in front of him.
That was a ploy though. The Jedi was focusing on the mind crystal, centering its capability into the center mass of this astral monster to tear it open from the inside out. This time he was helping it through the Force as well. The big man was going to (at least try to) pull the thing apart on top of that. So if anything, this incorporeal monster had a choice to make, three of them. Stop itself from being bifurcated and either be eaten alive or cut apart by lightning, stop itself from being eaten alive and allow for bifurcation or electrocution and… well you get the idea.
Regardless, if this “avatar” was a corrupted soul or the very distorted being of Tython, it did not matter, Vanagor was bringing it down and everything else that was bent on doing the planet harm. Tython would survive the damage done, but it had to be given the chance to. He had to help to give it that chance. Maybe that was why the big man was focusing on all of those fallen souls that were around him, on all of the meaning that those whom he cared about. Everything that he felt for them, everything that they meant to him, even in the slightest was put into focus. It was put into focus and added to everything else.
Vanagor was finally truly getting what they told him so long ago. The original tenets.
He was not just fighting for those that he cared about, Caltin Vanagor was fighting tooth and nail alongside ones he did not care about, besides ones who cared nothing for him. The big man was fighting for those whom he had never met, never seen before, and with others that he had never met or seen before. All for the same purpose. The same premise. It was the right thing to do. They were not fighting evil for the sake of evil. They were saving the planet, all of them, for whatever their motivation because it was the right thing to do.
This way they were going to come out on top.
Even if none of them came out of this.
Location: Between Kaleth/Jedi Temple Ruins/and Flooded Plains
Baron Reinhardt Ström
Aerarii Tithe
Adhira Chandra
Kel Se'Taav The Quartermaster Ingrid L'lerim Eryk Thaxton
Pietro Demici
of the progress, or current lack of. She doubted he would have acted any differently to the initial proposals. She walked out into the courtyard and felt the sunshine on her face, it was lovely to feel the light on her and she made a brief prayer. 
Eina L'lerim-Vandiir
,
Geiseric
, or
Heinrich Faust
Waiting on ceremony for diplomatic permission to take the fight straight to the enemy.
