Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Silence | CIS Dominion of Haseria

H A S E R I A

For centuries, Haseria knew quiet.

While the Galaxy was consumed by conflict after conflict, the distant world could barely hear the war cries. While nations burned against one another, the far-flung planet could hardly see the flames. Distance was her ally - so much so that a population of Humans developed with minimal interaction with the outside. At times, their home would be absorbed into the borders of an entity, but the occupation would always be brief. Nations never seemed to last long in the modern era. However, in recent history, a relic from one of these occupations had begun to stir.

And the natives cried out.

Long ignored by the current generation was a spire in the midst of a valley. Wrought by arcane hands, it was once a dwelling place of Sith who ventured far to increase their power. But this Temple did not achieve its goal for long. The few stories passed down regarding this place spoke of a violent clash - of warriors radiating with the Light descending to extinguish the Dark. Their battle culminated with a vicious skirmish within the Temple walls...and then...silence. A hush befell the Spire and it never again showed signs of life. The natives were happy enough to leave the structure alone, allowing nature to spread its greenery about the ruin.

But now, only death surrounded the Spire.

Where once vegetation had grown between the stones, only yellow husks remained. Where once wild grasses and vibrant Flora bloomed, only decay remained. Even the river which curved about the Spire had been poisoned by its presence - now, the crystal clear water had been sullied black. The corruption was spreading at an alarming pace. With each passing week, the decay of the land grew further, stretching now for miles. With each passing hour, more water supplies were being tainted and the people were growing ill. The young and meek among them were at risk for an early grave. Something had to be done, lest the population be condemned to oblivion.

And that something came in the form of the Confederacy. Scouts made contact with the troubled peoples and a hasty accord was reached. As with all other occupations, the natives of Haseria would accept the Confederate presence on the world. They would even collaborate and do whatever the nation asked...if they did something about this corruption. If they silenced the Spire that now threatened to consume them all. To this end, the Confederacy established a quarantine about the Spire and began to send in teams to investigate.

The ancient relic would know silence once more.

The Confederacy would not fail.

According to the scans of Probe Droids sent in advance of the day's excursion, a number of areas were present to investigate:

FOUNTAINS
The entryway of the Spire was once clearly intended to be a garden of sorts. Decayed plants now litter the space. Shattered fountains and broken benches of marble are strewn about. Skeletal remains tell a story of battle: Jedi and Sith clashed here, as evidenced by the iconic brown and black robes. Lightsabers and other such tools can be found among the dead.

ARCANIUM
From the Fountains, a flight of stairs is accessible. Charred bodies litter the steps, indicative of potential traps laid by the ancient Sith. Safely rising to the top of the stairs would reveal a place intended for learning. Rows of shelves now were toppled over, with yellowing scrolls and dusty tomes now littering the ground. A pair of blast doors reside to the rear of the space, marred by thick slashes that no lightsaber could create...as if something was attempting to claw its way out. Behind those doors, any Sensitive would feel an immense Darkness. Was it a Vault? Or was it something much, much worse?

THRONE
While most paths from the Fountains are blocked by debris, one is more clearable than the rest. Obstructed only by stones easily climbable by a for adult are a pair of shattered, wooden doors. Behind these massive structures lies a carpet of the deepest crimson, littered with even deceased. The path leads forward to a chilling scene: the bones of a Sith yet seated upon a gilded throne. Through his chest, a literal candlestick of wrought iron. At his feet, two halves of a Jedi - as evidenced by the brown garment that was cleaning divided between torso and legs. Clutched firm within the hand of the Sith Lord was a gem.

A bright and pulsing gem.

A gem which only pulsed brighter as the explorers draw near...

[member="AceReplica"], [member="Aedan Miles"], [member="Ailuros"], [member="Aithne Charr"], [member="Akabane"], [member="Alden Kyr'Nau"], [member="Aleksander Miles"], @Alistar Myre, [member="Alyva Terrix"], [member="Amaya Cardei"], @Amaya Korolev, [member="Anastasia Verd"], [member="Aoker Veru"], [member="Arabella Darkhold"], [member="Arlox"], [member="Ash"], @Aurelio Ilyin, [member="Averin An'Arach"], [member="Aya Clarke"], [member="Azrik"], [member="B1-990"], [member="B2-D34T7"], [member="Ballen-Ist"], [member="Bartic Myth'rand"], [member="BBZ-20"], @Ben Mentl, [member="Bulthos Dorrir"], [member="BX-22222"], [member="BX-24601"], [member="BX-25233"], [member="BX-72967"], [member="BX-73300"], [member="BX-75244"], [member="Causstik Rahn"], [member="Chalim Vern"], [member="Chek Zun"], [member="Dakita Calfur"], [member="Dalton Kenway"], [member="Darth Atrox"], [member="Darth Illisus"], [member="Darth Kentarch"], [member="Darth Malus"], [member="Darth Phren"], [member="Darth Rixas"], [member="Darth Seraphic"], [member="Daxton Bane"], [member="DE-16"], [member="Derek Dib"], [member="Dinah Vekarr"], [member="Dorkas Satris"], [member="Duidatos"], [member="Ellion Corsair"], [member="Er'in Tenel"], [member="Faa Vera"], [member="Faustina Beryll"], [member="Fawn Alzi"], [member="Fiolette Yvarro"], [member="Galven Hansol"], [member="Gorm"], [member="Hades Dai"], [member="Ignis Imura"], [member="Iris Issey"], [member="Irys Arist'lar"], [member="Isamu Baelor"], [member="Jack Anderson"], @Jasmine Zittoun, [member="Jaya Tandris"], [member="Jayce Pryde"], [member="Jennifer Blanchard"], [member="Jeremiah"] Wynarn, [member="Jia Darkhold"], [member="Jorah"], [member="Jorco Czeku"], [member="Kaiya Halycon"] , [member="Kal Jaii"], [member="Kal Kandossii"], [member="Kalee Bladesworn"], [member="Katarine Ryiah"], [member="Katria Vekarr"], [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"], [member="Kayla Wylen"], [member="Keric Dynt"], [member="Ket Van-Derveld"], [member="Kilia"], [member="Koda Fett"], [member="Kino Nagano"], [member="Kurayami Bloodborn"], [member="Kurenai Yumi"], [member="Lady Psyona"], [member="Lanna"], [member="Lewis"], [member="Liber Cluvius"], [member="Libera Cluvius"], [member="Lola An'Arach"], [member="Lord Mettallum"], [member="Luna Terrik"], [member="Lyla Quinn"], [member="Malok"], [member="Maple Harte"], [member="Marcus Lund"], [member="Marek Starchaser"], [member="Maxerian Gron"], [member="Miki Starfallen"], [member="Mira Talus"], [member="Mirvak"], [member="Moira Skaldi"], [member="Morgan Redeaux"], [member="Muad Dib"], [member="Mythira"], [member="Nasho Vesh"], [member="Nassier Zirfae"], [member="Natalie LaForte"], [member="Natasha Darkstar"], [member="Nayru Wyndaru"], [member="Nilia Saavilin"], [member="Nyx"], [member="Orion Trex"], [member="Paige Blossom"], [member="Prime"], [member="Qymaen sil Jurai"], [member="R4N-JR"], [member="Rale Elysar"], [member="Rapax"], [member="Rashae"], [member="Raziel"], [member="Rosaline Rousseau"], [member="Ryker Wylde"], [member="Samantha Jade"], [member="Scherezade deWinter"], [member="Shadar-Pox"], [member="Shaden Vekarr"], [member="Sko'saht"], [member="Skorvek"], [member="Sol Damerin"], [member="Srina Talon"], [member="Super TD-T47"], [member="Surnin Strenger"], [member="Tamar M'Raki"], [member="Taran Holt"], [member="The Fallen"], [member="The Slave"], [member="Tiberius Royalblaze"], [member="Titan"], [member="Tmoxin Temi"], [member="Tyrande of Isobe"], [member="Tytos Ardik"], [member="Valis Marr"], [member="Valjan Hon'rey"], [member="Varik Ice"], [member="Verd Skirata"], [member="Veronika Fleischer"], [member="Vinten Veers"], [member="Vuh'kis"], [member="Werah Unon"], [member="Xero Wran"], [member="Yuna Hart"], [member="Zark"], [member="Zenva Vrotoa"], [member="Zephyr Carrick"], @Zhorin Cenvax
 
Standing near the landing ramp of the shuttle he silently smoked the deathstick as he felt the ship shudder lightly from the turbulence. Another planet, another temple, another disaster that opened the door for the Confederacy to bring a planetary government into the fold. This time it seemed an etheral presence was affecting the population. Ghosts the natives decried.

Cause when there's something strange in the neighborhood. Who ya gonna call? The Confederate Ghostbusters.

Chuckling under his breath he dropped the butt of the deathstick and ground it out under his armored boot. Rolling his shoulders he waited as he felt the ship settling onto the ground and the ramp lowered with a mechanical whine. Leaping from the ship he raised his head and breathed in deeply. Aye, he sensed the darkness that permeated the area. Felt oily and unclean. Smelled of decay and death.

"Feels like home."

He smirked as he moved away from the shuttle as it fired it's thrusters and lifted off to retreat back to the staging area. The Force cried out to his senses. A great calamity has occurred here. And it had stained the planet with a shadow of memory that was still tangible.
 

Rapax

Guest
R
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m9We2XsVZfc

(Blame [member="Muad Dib"])

Location: At one of the quarantine outskirts.

Post: 1.

Exploration and cleansing a place of trouble were things Rapax enjoyed doing the most temples where known to hold heaven knows what amount of treasures and other artifacts that no doubt will be useful in the long run, He gathered all his gear and waited a bit for others to show given going into such a place alone is asking for death. He prepared his senses and carried with him a few standard crystals that looked like simple decorative gems to the common eyes, But he had other ideas for the gems to use and that was to bind any souls or spirits that he might run into down there to the gems to not make them anymore of a threat then simple pest problem. as well as to see what can be done about calming what ever was woken up in there whether it be a beast or a spirit of sorts it doesn't matter he will bind what he needs to bind and take care of it as he goes along.
 
Fountains.

Hakanu wasn't a fan, "Sergeant... you getting anything?"

"No." She said as she tucked her gun away, "unless you count the creepy factor."

A few of the soldiers nodded in agreement. "Well, we're not here to play footsy with force ghosts, c'mon."

He waved his platoon forward through what was supposed to be a garden, they landed opposite of [member="Rapax"] and [member="Muad Dib"]. Confederate troopers worked together to bring in equipment and set up a small communications post here. Lightly armored no one was looking for a fight, this wasn't Katanos by any stretch of the imagination. The decaying plants were one thing, the littered bits of marble and broken stone were another and combined with the skeletal remains of the battles that had been fought here. "Don't touch them," he ordered his hand grabbed that of a corporal's, "never disturb the dead."

Hakanu's boots crushed whatever had remained - whatever had grown between the ruined duracrete. He stabbed the stone with the beacon's mark, "we'll set up here, before moving forward." While the man was never a force user he could feel that something was off, and he didn't like it. An eerie lull fell over the group, as if the air suddenly grew cold - as if there had been eyes watching over them. Muscles were tense as Hakanu looked around the fountains. "Marked outpost to command, we've established a comms station here at the fountains."
 
II/XII

Once more unto the Breach.

The grind of the dropship door's movement brought the Vicelord's focus to the ground. Before his sulfuric gaze rest the Spire - epicenter to the suffering of Haseria. And while, as his station demanded, his words and demeanor screamed empathy to the plight of the people...his innermost thoughts were far more vicious. Where the Confederacy saw an opportunity to liberate a helpless people from a Force-driven plague, Darth Metus saw an opportunity to turn the same poison upon his enemies. The power to blight the earth and sully the seas was far too great a boon to pass up - and thus had he come personally to investigate.

And only one knew of the ambition burning within the Vicelord's mind. The alabaster Echani who stood by his side, always, [member="Srina Talon"].

"Ready up." came the rumble of his voice.

In but a few moments, their dropship touched down upon the blighted surface with a distressing crunch. A heap of decayed vegetation gave way to tons of durasteel, sending the dry sound into the air. The sound caused the Sith's teeth to ache, ever so slightly, but it did not deter him from bounding off the dropship in a single stride. His armored form moved closer to the Spire, where data from the initial scans began to move upon his HUD. But information aside, he could feel the Darkness here. It felt like Glee Anselm at the height of the One Sith Empire...which was terrifying considering the state of the Temple.

"Stay close." he breathed. After Tatooine, he had been...more than protective of his Srina. Today would prove to be no different.

Command...

The transmission buzzed within Metus' comm.

"Acknowledged." he said simply, leading the way into Fountains area. There, he greeted the soldiers there with a nod before pulling up the mapped data.

"Let's get to work on that." His finger indicated the debris blocking an advance to the Throne area. "We could scale it, but if chit hits the fan we don't want rocks blocking the exit."

[member="Muad Dib"], [member="Rapax"], [member="Vulkanus"]
 
Post: 2 of 12.5

Nodding a greeting of acknowledgement to the soldiers who had arrived he turned an amused grin to [member="Rapax"]. Again the two were called to arms, one with the other. It seemed whenever they were together in a mission things were always interesting and entertaining. Chuckling as he watched the other shuttles come in to land he spoke to the gurlanin while eyes observed the ViceLord and his pretty pet arrive.

"Well wolfy, at least there are no deranged mando'ad ad'ika running around screaming for our blood this time, eh?"

As the orders left [member="Darth Metus"], Muad gave a mocking bow of obedience. Any who knew the man would see the sarcastic mannerism. Hell, even ones not familiar with the Mad Man would see the condescending mannerisms.

Chuckling he moved with several new troopers to the debris and began clearing the passage. Having a clear line of retreat was strategically sound, he wouldn't argue that, yet his skin itched to be given a command. A rabid dog would eventually bite the hand of a supposed master. Though Muad didn't consider himself subservient to the Verd.

Quickly and efficiently Muad and the troops cleared the path, bodies moving in harmony pulling heavy stones from their virtual resting places. To disturb a thing's slumber asked for reprisals and even though the stone rubble was not alive, faint echoes in the force gave warning of danger to those who would heed their call. After nearly ten minutes the passage was clear and Muad grinned as he lit another deathstick and motioned with irreverence for the ViceLord to enter.

[member="Vulkanus"]
 
Hakanu did as ordered, working with [member="Muad Dib"] to clear a path.

When he stepped back to the communications outpost the man surveyed the area again, he noticed the accessible flight of stairs and looked at his Sergeant. They could send a small fireteam with [member="Darth Metus"] to ensure that the Vicelord would be safe although he really wouldn't need it. At this point, it was mostly protocol and duty. Quietly he and his team left the fountains and ascended the flight of stairs, shifting his gear around the man put a hand to the door and pressed against it gently. Without issue the door opened, it creaked with age and neglect, Hakanu grabbed his rifle not to fire it and switched on the flashlight, dust seemed to dance in the light and all he could see were rows of toppled shelves.

Dusty tomes, and a sense of darkness as Hakanu and his team stepped forward. "Nan, you feel that?"

"The ever-growing sense of we should've stayed at the base, yes."

His expression shifted, "right..."

"And yes, you don't have to be a force user to get the vibe."
 

Jia Darkhold

Heiress of Madness
She was told to stay away from the others, not to join the fray. She wasn't to be a part of the operation. But she wasn't told she couldn't watch. As the shuttle rose and began heading away from where Muad, Rapax, troopers, and others were gathering she crouched on the ramp as it slowly raised. Once the shuttle was several hundred meters away it began to raise from it's terrain following pattern. The ramp finished closing but she was no longer there.

Perched in a tree that the shuttle had flown by, she watched through the enhancements of her mask. Her force signature was concealed through years of training, her light armor would dispel any attempt by sensors. She was a silent assassin taught to be a shadow within shadows. And so she was.

Crouching upon the limb she watched a group get to work clearing a passage. Using only her eyes and not the force she surveyed those gathered, pulling dossiers on several of them to reacquaint herself with the individuals there. She was not to be seen or heard or sensed. But watch, that was something she could do.
 
III/XII

You smug sonofa...

At once, a light huff escaped the Vicelord's nostrils whilst his lips twitched in slight bemusement. The sarcastic antics of the Mad One were just over the top enough to not be insulting, but rather Darth Metus found the gesture a touch funny. But he did not stand idly by while the men cleared the path - as only a piss poor commander watched while his comrades labored. While Muad and the 92nd Infantry tackled the task by hand, the Sith outstretched both arms and splayed his fingers. He joined the fray with telekinetics, heaving stone after stone free whilst his compatriots did the same.

When it was all said and done, the path ahead was clear enough that a clean retreat could be made if necessary. And again, the Mad One gestured enthusiastically. "Easy vod, we're on the same side." Metus commented at he stepped closer to the entrance. As he moved, [member="Vulkanus"] and the 92nd departed from the Fountains, opting to explore the adjacent stairwell that was immensely more clear. The Sith checked his comm momentarily, making sure the line remained open as they began their ascent, before pressing his palms flat upon the broken doors. A solid shove saw the wood grind upon the floor, admitting the pair fully to the throne room.

And straightway, the gem clutched within the skeleton's fingers hummed.

And though he saw it with his very eyes, it took a moment to believe it...the bones tightened around its form.

"You're still good with flames, right?"

The question formed and fell as his fingers tugged free his lightsaber, holding it aloft. Yet before the Mad One could respond, a chill befell the Throne Room. It was as if winter had descended upon them in full force, so much so that Darth Metus could see the heat of his breath as a cloud. His gaze never waved from the skeleton now, as it was clearly the source of this...phenomena. But it did not end here. Oh no, this was just the beginning.

A pallid light began to rise.

And another.

And another.

Ascending from the dry, ancient bones did they begin to take form. Limbs. Faces. Scowls. The apparitions turned against one another at once...and all Hell began to break loose. The Force was mighty within these specters, allowing them to hurl lightning and fling debris across the space as if they yet lived. What's more, the chill began to creep beyond the doors of the Throne room, prompting more and more of the deceased to rise. Soon, even those who had ascended the stairs would find themselves in the middle of a literal battleground.

The war of old had begun anew - and the Confederacy was stuck in the middle.

[member="Muad Dib"], [member="Rapax"], [member="Vulkanus"]
 
Post: 4 of 12.5

Grinning as [member="Darth Metus"] passed by he was reminded that while the ViceLord was CIS and a Sith Lord, more importantly, he was mando'ad. Brothers. Not by blood not marriage but by culture and choice. Warriors who had bled for their people, their clans, their Mand'alor, for Manda'yaim. Muad was capable of many things but he was not dar'manda and he would not break that bond no matter what hutuun Mand'alor decreed.

A slightly bashful grin he nodded and followed the other man up to the wooden doors. Isley was a commander, neither idle nor content to let others work while he waited in lavish conditions, as he showed earlier with his telekinetic display and currently by taking the lead into the unknown. Grudgingly Muad gave the man respect.

As they entered the room the skeletal figure on the throne drew one's gaze for several reasons. The iron candlestick protruding from exposed chest, the gem clenched in boned hand, the odd presence in the force, and not to mention the stirring of the fleshless body.

"I think it was the Butler, with the candlestick. And aye ner vod ... Tis my speciality."

With his right gauntleted hand he pulled the beskad from it's sheath and held it down, pointed at the ground as his left clenched, blue flame erupting around his fist. But as he watched it wasn't just Skeletor who was stirring but other beings began to manifest. Before his eyes Jedi and Sith coalesced into existence and clashed together, shaking off their etheral existence and taking on a physical presence.

As the two sides slammed together joined in battle that had ended countless years earlier Muad watched as the combatants neared the duo from the fore and rear. Skeletal remains wearing a vestige of flesh.

"Think we might be boned..."

Releasing a laugh he leapt into the battle, right arm weaving a blade re-death and left lashing out a fiery fist as both Jedi and Sith tasted the madness the man possessed. Laughter and a war cry echoed from his lips as the Mad Man carved a path into the specters between the ViceLord and the skeletal being upon the throne who's jaw opened in a rictus sneer and fist closed tight upon the gem.

"Oya!!!"

[member="Vulkanus"] [member="Rapax"]
 
Corruption, the slow sweet taint of decay and rot, called out its sirens song to the Sith Lord. Something totally unnatural stirred in restless slumber, drawing his attention like a lover’s carress. Truth be told, Daxton cared little for this world or its people, it was too far from his more profitable trade routes amd showed little potential for economic development, save for the fact of rampant corruption that tsinted the land.

While he joined the others at the arrival, Daxton’s goal was the throne room where a pulsing gem was rumored to have been seen. Perhaps he had found the Heart of Darkness again. If so, he was definitely not letting slip his grasp again, never again he promised himself.

He searched far and wide for the Heart, but it always eluded him, like a teasing mirage to a thirsty man, it always just seemed out of reach. He was quite aware of the power it contained, a mere sliver was enough to push his research in ways few could barely comprehend much less understand. What potential secrets could he unlock if he had the whole Heart to study?

Holding his sabers in either hand, he crossed the fountain area, his Force Enchanced senses wary for even the slightest indication of a trap.
 

Jia Darkhold

Heiress of Madness
Watching as Muad and Metus moved one direction, Vulkanus with other troopers another direction, and several more paused at the path she waited. One hand secured on the limb she was resting on, the other on the handle of one of her blades. She suppressed a frustration that threatened to creep upon her. Always it was wait, watch, be patient. First with Quasi and now Muad. It was frustrating because finally she had a modicum of freedom, yet similar restraints kept her hidden.

She hated it. Always had. She was meant for more then the shadows, and she felt it in her bones. She just needed the chance to prove she could be more. A chance to show that she was capable of being on the front lines.

As she watched an echo rippled from the citadel that rolled across the landscape passing beneath her and continuing on as far as her vision could reach. Resisting the urge to turn her body and try to see just how far the ripple went, because it could possibly reveal her position, she continued to view the area around the citadel.

Ghostly apparitions began to form along the ground as if a fog had risen. Lips pressed tightly together as she was reminded of the sorcery of Quasi and she watched with apprehension. The mist began to settle on fallen timber upon the ground. Zooming in with her built in macrobinocular viewplate she suddenly realized it wasn't fallen limbs but bones. Slowly the figures rose and joined in battle all around, determined to win the war that had been lost in time. Gritting her teeth she waited, still, while even behind her the battle intensified.
 
(1)​

The Crimson Shadow had followed suit with the others, landing alongside the other ships that had come, ramp doors opening shortly after with Katrine exiting the ship as she was putting on her coat. Before, there had been a faint feeling, from above the planet and yet now, as she stepped foot on the planet, she could feel it clearly now. There were so many of them here though they were quiet now, just existing in the dormant temple that lay ahead.

"Don't be tardy if you're coming with, Pebble. This isn't a place to be left alone at," she called back to Ward before stepping off the landing gate.

She could almost feel the spirits perking up to get a better grasp on the place. "What do you think?" She wondered from her companions. Trouble, Jart considered; suffering, Lykel flared; let us dance, Doashim finally decided with a resolve, making Katrine smirk as she followed behind the rest.

The sigh of the dead being moved sent a shudder down her spine, watching the groups simply made way for the living rather than to properly treat. Yet, the trouble seemed far more dangerous and required their attention rather now than later.

Hurrying her step, she came up at the end of the group to see her Uncle Isley had touched on the broken doors. Thump! Doors fell right down, giving them an entry. "That was is," Katrine commented before she'd heard. Hummm. It kept ringing in her ears, though something felt as though it was right beneath the surface. "What is that?" The Witch asked almost immediately. It was more than one thing, more than just one sound but all seemed to come together in that single humming, mashed together.

Feel, Lylek ordered, scratching against his mark, her back straightening at the order. Clearning her mind, didn't quite reach through the Force but rather opened her senses. One light, two lights, suddenly there was, if not life than rather half life fueling from without the old bones, forming people that were long gone. She could feel their anger, their resolve, their pain, their will. It made the humming even stronger as it all spread towards the forms.

Distracted by the joke and laughter of the Doashim shaman, Katrine glanced over as chuckled. Focus lest the dead find your weakness, Doashim growled. "Right, laugh at jokes later," she agreed as she looked at the ghosts again, her senses cleared from distractions to focus on them. From the vibes they were giving off, this wasn't going to be a regular tea party, that was was for sure.

And yet, with the swell of emotions coursing through her that were definitely not hers, Katrine's first instinct wasnt't to fight them, it was to help them, release them which she couldn't tell was something her mind had come up with or if the three had a point. So rather than summoning her sword, Katrine observed as Uncle Isley, Muad and even Daxton drew their weapons, waiting for the ghosts to make the first move against her though they seemed more focused on each other.

[member="Muad Dib"] [member=Rapax] [member=Vulkanus] [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Jia Darkhold"] [member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Daxton Bane"]
 
(1)​

She didn't necessarily want to be here. There was just something about Haseria that left the assassin at an unease, collecting her lightsaber as the Vicelord had already taken his leave with the Enchani woman. Something about that woman didn't sit well with her. The way her pale eyes looked at her times, it rose simple practical thoughts immediately after Tatooine - it would have been better if her wounders had been victorious over the young woman.

The very thought caught whimper inside her min, her head tilting abruptly as the emotion spread over. "Stop," Naha'va ordered verbally at the child. She could feel, she could care. It was becoming an inconvenience to the woman who was incapable of neither of those things, except for herself. "It is your father's side that she keeps, gaining attention you will never have," the woman threatened within the empty hanger before she smirked, sadness building inside her. She knew it wasn't hers, it was the child's and yet, she felt it in the body they shared.

"I do not have time for this," Naha'va decided as she hooked the lightsaber to her utility belt before making her way outside. The path was already cleared and the way was clear, so she followed it. Though Naha'va had not thought of it too often, she had every intention of leaving the Confederacy and the man she was forced to refer to as Dad. It was a power that kept her here still. He had it, she wanted it. And once, she had what she wanted, she'd vanish. Because none of this, what the child wanted, was what she needed or wanted. Not after eight hundred years and all the bodies she had held. Perhaps she would even rid herself of the Verd girl as soon as she could get herself a new body. Until then, the child had purpose.

A feeling of dread grasped her before she had entered the temple, her hand unhooking her lightsaber immediately, igniting the weapon as she stepped into the room. The pain increase, her lungs grasping for a momentary air as she entered the room. The transparent beings were already rising, others had already drawn on their weapons but the creatures held her immediate intention, making Naha'va tighten her grasp on the hilt tighter.

They screamed as she struck at them with her weapons, cutting through the traitors with a rage unfamiliar to her until then

"I wish for nothing more than to be your Hand," her voice proudly declared.

He laughed a laughter that brought fear into others.

Naha'va blinked at the memory, feeling pain her palm as she gripped even tighter on the grip, standing into the ghosts. None of them familiar and yet it felt as though the sight of them had forced memories long kept safe in her mind. She as a child still, a Guard, striking into Rebels for her Master, murdering in sheer rage before she was brought before him. His laughter seemed so present as though he was standing in front of her now, amused by her request.

Her feet shuffled forward, feeling that same rage now. The creatures may not have been those rebels that had brought the fury but the rage seemed to be right there inside her now. Centuries of composure, centuries of feeling nothing and here she was, going against all she had been trained as she moved forward towards the armed man, moving closer to the apparations. Yet, her Master's laughter boomed in her head, energizing her as she watched the battle, itching to join as if she held claim to the battle.

Black eyes darted something that glowed to the side, growing wider into the shining light calling to her, Master's laughter seemingly coming from right there.

...when you feel the time is right and you will rise again.

As if he was right here, right now, whispering into her mind in his decayed last clone shape, he demanded of her. Naha'va exhaled a breath before she broke into a run towards the ghosts, rising her weapon at them before she jumped into the air. Except her, her hand was bare as she did, the hilt falling to the ground, beam deactivating upon impact and the body falling down, without her control over her...

[member="Muad Dib"] [member="Rapax"] [member="Vulkanus"] [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Jia Darkhold"] [member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Daxton Bane"]
 

Jia Darkhold

Heiress of Madness
Post: 6

Jedi in robes tattered with time battled Sith in rusted armor that had been exposed to the elements for years upon years. Slowly she dropped lithely limb from limb to lower closer to the ground. Curiosity killed the cat, yet the girl was no innocent damsel in distress. Pausing on the final limb she felt the disturbance in the force even stronger.

The two sides battled, lightsaber upon lightsaber, lightning against telekinesis. Dead grass was crushed under foot. These were no longer simply apparitions that were unable to affect the physical realm. Someone or something had brought new life, so to speak, to the ancient bones.

As she watched she made the rash decision to no longer be a spectator in events. Having spent years training under a Sith Sorcerer of Tund she wished to see what form of Magik was utilized through the force. Dropping from the dead tree she pulled her curved short swords while landing in a crouch half hidden within the debris field of death. The battle waged around her as she silently crept for the landing area.
 

Mirvak

Some chains are better left unbroken.
Post 1.

A not-so-subtle sense of bubbling rage rippled in the Force from behind the group in the Throne room, but in the midst of combat this was easily discounted. There was a loud huffing from behind, and a massive black figure covered in fur at once leapt into the air. The massive form landed ontop of a Sith skeleton that was charging it's way towards [member="Darth Metus"]. The beast knelt over the skeleton, wrapping its large left hand around its skull and pressing it into the floor as his right gripped the lightsaber wielding wrist. Effortlessly he ripped off the arm, bringing the skeleton's head up just a foot off the ground and slamming it back down into the floor, shattered its skull. The beast looked up at the Darth, narrowing his eyes at him briefly before reaching into his belt and igniting his saber, turning away to slash into the fray. Mirvak had finally chosen to return after an inexplicable hiatus, though a untrustworthy, angry Worgian hardly needs reason to unexpectedly leave his master. Roaring with each slash of the lightsaber, he began to engage the Sith side of the risen warriors.
 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PWkN9viNxA​
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Nius had finally achieved the one thing that was never on his side: luck. He had been tracking his father, whom he had of course never met, for months, if not years. It was hard to remember at this point. From the information he had drawn from people, through murder, torture, and all other types of heinous actions, he had discovered that his father was none other than the Vicelord of one of the most powerful galactic entities out there. His father was none other than Isley Verd, also known as [member="Darth Metus"]. Then the dilemma of how he would possibly be able to track down his father arrived. How would he be able to track one of the busiest leaders in the Galaxy? Well, he wound up finding an answer to that question relatively quick. Why not learn of his father's recent destinations and make educated guesses on where he might turn up. Well, this was a very bad idea.To be completely honest, there were probably a million different and better ways to track down Metus. That didn't mean that he wouldn't have plenty of stories to share after literally visiting hundreds of planets, and sometimes having to resort to desperate measures to return to civilization. He got stranded on Hoth once... But, that's not what we're focused on at the moment. He had finally managed to track his father down, and not just at any time, specifically when him and is allies were being bombarded by enemies.

Nius arrived and joined the battle. He made sure he didn't kill anyone that looked too important, as first impressions with his dad were crucial. He wanted to learn from him. But what he wanted to know most was why he had never met him. He knew that his mother was absolutely terrible, and that Metus may not even remember her, but the real question was did he know of his existence? Could he have grown up with a father? Would it have changed him completely? Regardless of philosophical matters, he had spotted a tall, brutish man that looked like a much older version of himself. He slowly approached, so that he wouldn't alarm him. He was accompanied by several, what Nius had believed to be his inner circle, most likely. He was finally within speaking distance. "Well hello Metus! Do you recognize me?" He asked. "I thought you wouldn't, dad."

[member="Darth Metus"]
[member="Muad Dib"]
[member="Mirvak"]
 

Lyla Quinn

24 Karats Of Rose-Gold Trouble
Currently: Blasting any unnatural Halloween-lookin' crap near The Fountains from The Areta
Others Nearby: [member="Jia Darkhold"]

They materialized behind [member=Daxton Bane], bone upon bone grotesquely assembled from the ground up by invisible hands, rising with purpose from their dusty, haphazard graves. First two, then four, then seven, ancient remains of ancient warriors bristling with a power they shouldn't have, moving too fluidly, screaming battle cries that might make sensitive ears bleed as they clashed near the fountains. Without a doubt, Sith Lord Bane could have handled them on his own.

But c'mon, how many opportunities to blast a few mystical skeleton warriors is a girl gonna get in her lifetime?

Three exploded to Bane's left to the tune of double turbolasers, one to his right, bone fragments flying like deadly confetti through the air. The trees around The Spire bent and swayed in the gale kicked up by the YZ-775, dead vegetation and loose leaves spiraling across the earth as The Areta descended slowly, hovering above the scene below. "Okay," Lyla Quinn's smooth drawl echoed over the CIS open comms, "who touched the cursed gold? Because it's looking a lot like that one popular pirate holofilm out here." She frowned out the front viewport, instantly regretting not bringing her crew with her. [member=Meira] would've loved this.
"Hold her steady," she cautioned the pilot, a sandy-haired young man on-loan from the CIS for this mission, "let's see if we can keep the courtyard clear for whoever's poking around in that throne room."

"Aye, ma'am." All business. He nodded at his co-pilot, who turned and nodded at the navigator, who nodded at the communications officer, who nodded at the rest of the borrowed crew. Quinn repressed a snort. It was like working with seven of [member=Fidelis].
 
Location: Haseria - The Spire - [Throne Room Brawl]
Tags: [member="Darth Nius"] | [member="Mirvak"] | [member="Jia Darkhold"] | [member="Anastasia Verd"] | [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] | [member="Muad Dib"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Rin Talon"]
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Srina really and truly disliked very few things. She couldn’t really drum up the motivation to ‘hate’ something unless whomever, or whatever, actually deserved it. This was not the case with drop pods. Blasting through the atmosphere at speeds that could break sound, lighting up the skies like an assault team falling from the heavens, did not bring her any comfort. The young Echani preferred to be in control at all times, in all things, and in all places. Leaving her life in the hands of an exoatmospheric insertion vehicle caused primrose lips to press into a thin flat line. There was a rudimentary control system that allowed for slight pod maneuvering to ensure they landed at their designated location but otherwise, the pale-skinned woman felt like little more than a target.

No matter the circumstances, when she stepped outside of the hatch, her feet on solid ground—she immediately felt more at ease. Her Master, on the other hand, was extremely eager to continue forward. Srina could see why, as if he has whispered his plans in the back of her mind, and she sighed softly. “Ready, Master.”, she murmured harmoniously, yet her body remained tense, eyes flickering over their surroundings.

The Echani was not fond of this. Men, Vong, droids, or some sort of physical enemy Srina felt that she was more than capable of dealing with. She could not fight a ghost with a lightsaber. She was not skilled enough in science or the Force to deal with something intangible. All she knew for sure, was that it had to do with poison, and after Tatooine…She had dealt with poison enough for a lifetime.

Interestingly enough, along with Darth Metus, they were not alone. Somewhere between fighting the Empire and landing in a bacta tank it had been decided that she needed more constant protection. Who could the young woman rely on, over even her Master, other than herself? To that end, her genetic material had been shuttled quickly to a rather advanced cloning facility. Her Master didn’t seem particularly enthused, but, the deed was already done. Silver eyes met with equally silver pools. There was an innate understanding. It was not a Force Bond, nothing so specific, simply a sense of knowing.

For the pale-skinned warrior, the scenario was a little strange. Almost, like being home on Eshan, surrounded by her sisters and cousins. Some would find it unnerving to have people walking around, breathing, and talking while wearing her face. Srina remained unbothered. She was Echani. It happened all the time. She looked nearly identical to her mother, and her mother before her, and all of her blood borne sisters. In that essence, it was only odd, because it didn’t really feel strange at all.

Darth Metus bid her to remain close, and as always, the soft-spoken beauty nodded her head. She knew the depth of his fears. Of his guilt. Of the debt that he felt he owed Aryn Teth, for saving her, when he could not. She would not make him worry more than necessary.

“Come, Rin. Observe [member="Darth Metus"] as often as you observe me so that you may learn. He is my, our, Master and he must be obeyed—Always.”

Srina was not impatient with her doppelganger, nor was she unkind, but there was a no-nonsense way that she spoke that made her difficult to argue with. Without further discussion that apprentice made her way toward Darth Metus, wearing her newly repaired Starfire Protocol armor. The blood and damage seemed to have mostly been erased.

Her focus shifted from Rin, Darth Metus, and all of the other Confederate soldiers present. The Spire. Whatever it was, it felt like nothing she had ever known. It was a black abyss. Seductively dark, so old, so powerful, that she found herself focusing on things she felt she shouldn’t. It felt like when she had been led down to the Alchemy Forge beneath Sinners Well.

Wrong…And very right.

Srina took a page from the book of Darth Metus and sought to assist him in clearing the path. Between the infantrymen making them look shameless by using the Force, while they fell on brute strength, the way was empty of rubble in little time at all. They made their way into the Throne Room…And that was when the exploration seemed to spin out of control. A chill spread, so cold, that she could feel ice in her veins.

Srina held her ground, standing near to [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"], and a safe distance from [member="Muad Dib"], while angry specters rose from the dust. “Master I—“, the pale apprentice was cut off when an arc of lightning flew toward her, and she flipped nimbly out of the way, actually passing through another ghost that all but ignored her. The attack had missed, thankfully, but her focus was stolen again when one [member="Anastasia Verd"] went flying through the air. It looked like she meant to attack the spirits, only, something stopped her. “Anastasia! Are you all right?”, the Echani questioned, making her way gracefully between the chaos, as if she were navigating a calm swimming pool.

Not for the first time, another child of her Master appeared [[member="Darth Nius"]], as well as [member="Mirvak"]—and between the two she wondered whom she needed to watch her back with more. The Worgian didn’t seem to like her, and it was a general rule, aside from Amaya, that the progeny of Darth Master wished her dead.

There had to be a way to stop this, to end this fight, before they got lost in what seemed to be an eternal crossfire. Silver eyes flickered over the field of engagement while she knelt to check on the dark-haired child of her Master. There was a focal point to the madness. It spread, like a disease, but it all seemed to be emanating from one thing. A small object. Srina couldn't tell what it was from a distance, but she could feel power, and once again likened it to the Well.

It called. Loudly.

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Location: Haseria; The Spire - Throne Room
Tags: [member="Darth Nius"] | [member="Mirvak"] | [member="Jia Darkhold"] | [member="Anastasia Verd"] | [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] | [member="Muad Dib"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Srina Talon"]

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Youth was a blessing. A gift from the very bodies that brought you life. Youth was, as all knew, also a curse. A weight bestowed upon you by those who might ill prepare you for the world.

For the young Echani, doppelganger to Srina Talon, it could be considered the latter though she would not say so out loud. She had not been privy to the decision that had been made, the catalyst to her creation, but she knew she was less a tool as the other sisters that had been created along with her. As she watched and observed the Echani by which she would emulate the majority of her experiences and mannerisms she came to understand the galaxy in a way most would consider unsuitable to their young. An unfortunate reality she did not have the courtesy of considering.

Her sisters left behind at the Sinner's Well, placated with the promise of further education, the doppelganger had been brought along with her progenitor and their master. She had had the courtesy of spending some time with the woman she was to emulate, but she had not had the pleasure of being overly acquainted with Darth Metus.

Putting the departure from their courier vessel, cleansing the slate of her mind to welcome only the focus required for the mission, young Echani hovered carefully by Srina's side. Close enough to hear the words of advice the other willingly offered her, but hardly close enough to be breathing down the other's neck. There was something to be said about tact in light of functionality, something she had been driven to learn from a very early stage in her maturation. Her silence on the matter befit her, fortunately, and her presence on the Haseria would not hinder.

"Understood." The doppelganger replied with a characteristic smoothness to her voice, followed by a nod of approval of the words that had been spoken. The nod was unnecessary but there was never an incorrect time for formalities; least of all on the battlefield with the very being your life was designed to impress and protect. She had learned quickly to obey Srina's ever command, lest it not conflict with her own condition outside of dire circumstance, and the training showed in her composure.

What happened next even the doppelganger could not anticipate, her reflexes only as good as those adopted from her progenitor, though the disruption of Srina's words were an ample warning. Srina's body moved in a fluid evasive motion, her entire body avoiding the arc of lightning despite the armor she wore and the doppelganger followed suit in her own kind. Taking a step back, and arching her back, the echani pivoted and planted a hand against the ground before lifting herself away from the lightning.

With a twist of her arm and a shift of her weight she was back on the ground staring down the direction the attack had come in. A semblance of safety that it appeared another woman did not have as a commodity as she came soaring through the air and into the observation and care of the Echani's progenitor. Moving with Srina, attentive to the direction from which the spirits and other forces came, the doppelganger silently studied the interaction while observing the others who were present; she had yet to learn all their names, but their dispositions were far from difficult to read.

Taking what time she had been given to assess the situation, applying the intelligence she had been gifted with, the young Echani prepared for what may come next. A tight grip on the weapons in her hands and a sweep of her surroundings for awareness and she was as ready as she could be for what was to come.

Such could be said for the corporeal and, as such, less for the corporeal.

Whatever was calling to them, she could not understand it.

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