Silence | CIS Dominion of Haseria

[Rapax]

Post: 2

Rapax unsheathed the small lightside imbued dagger he received from his time among the Silver Jedi Order and held it in one hand as he held his ash black lightsaber in the other as he began his engagement with the undead and the spirits with the others, He kept the undead and spirits taht eh could away from [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] and her ward [member="Scherezade deWinter"] as he used his saber for blocking and the dagger for piercing. The dagger was made so that when he struck even the non corporeal vessels of the spirits even they would vanish or burn away from the blade's strikes, He kept himself agile and moving constantly as he struck at the various undead sith and jedi that came to life to confront him, He noticed a large group infront of him armed and devoid of reasoning as they made there way towards him, He remembered one of the sith spells he was taught and deactivated his saber and clipped it before stretching out his hand and closing it into a fist leaving only his index and pinky finger out as a green ball of energy started to form.

He kept channeling his rage and anger into it until it was about the size of his fist before unleashing it with a bestial like growl as the bolt fired forward shattering the skeletal group into pieces he saw a few spectres form and attack with lightning some of the bolts struck him and charred his leather armor and abit of his skin, With a growl of pain he used yet another spell as a few of his empty crystals he brought with him started to glow a dark purple color, The spirits started to shriek as the crystals that glowed started to pull each spirit into a crystal to bind them to there prison for all time. He at first felt the beast side of him wanting to make a appearance but he fought hard to keep it contained the last thing he would want is to have his primal rage take over in this situation, He looked over to see Katrine summon a sword out of ichor he didn't recognize the blade yet but it didn't matter as he reactivated his blade and continued trying to thin out the enemies for her and the others along the way.

He stopped for a moment when he heard Katrines voice screaming out her wards name and he turned around and saw what had transpired and it took everything in his will power not to go and break the child and Mirvak into pieces, He simply did his best to keep the spirits andghosts away from them as Muad tended to Metus's wounds


[member="Muad Dib"] [member="Vulkanus"] [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Srina Talon"] [member="Mirvak"] [member="Jia Darkhold"] [member="Daxton Bane"] [member="Darth Nius"] [member="Lyla Quinn"] [member="Rin Talon"] [member="Dalton Kenway"]

 

[Srina Talon]

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"] | [member="Tyris Hayes"] | [member="Daxton Bane"]

​

Srina tensed, as she always did, at the scent of wet dog. [member="Mirvak"]. She could sense his savage presence, nearly the same way she could sense a creature in the wild, and not for the first time she had the urge to look over her shoulder. ‘Beware, the bipedal canine. He is more beast than anything else.’, she whispered mentally to [member="Rin Talon"], her focus for the time being, solely on [member="Anastasia Verd"]. The spirits battling around them didn’t seem to truly acknowledge the living, moreover, they didn’t realize that they were already dead. They did not know that their fight had ended long, long ago.

“Anastasia…?”, Srina queried again when the young woman didn’t respond, seeming almost dazed, or confused. There was none of the svelte confidence or regal disdain that the Verd child had exuded every other time they’d crossed paths. The Sith Apprentice had to wonder if the girl had hit her head in the fall, so hazy, and unfocused were her eyes. The white-haired woman remained kneeling beside her until she picked herself from the floor. Graceless. This creature was changed. Instantly, she was reminded of her vision so long ago—

P a i n.

It echoed through the Force Bond that she shared with Darth Metus. The feeling of sharp steel shooting between her ribs caused her to inhale sharply, an inaudible cry escaping her lips, as silver eyes shot toward her Master. There was a little girl, barely a woman, with her arms wrapped around the Vicelord. Her hands were bloodied. Anastasia reacted while she could not, reeling from agony that was not her own, and it took everything Srina had to bury. His pain was not her own. He needed her here, in the now, not buried beneath waves of suffering.

Mirvak. He stopped Anastasia from choking the life from the DeWinter girl. Then he attacked their Master. Darth Metus defended himself, and to that end, she could feel and see him draining the life from the monsterous beast. Good. Whereas she’d once thought the Wargian to be one of the strongest of the Dark Acolytes, she now acknowledged, that he was infact the weakest. He had not sought to best Darth Metus until he was already wounded. It was an act of an opportunity. Not, a fearsome warrior.

Were she not Echani, she would have sneered when he fell, but instead—Her expression remained empty and calculating. Her concerns lay solely with her Master. [member="Muad Dib"] entered the fray then, sending lightning scattering through the area, and the apprentice shuddered when a stray tendril hit her. Pain, on top of pain. For a breathless moment, Srina believed that the Mad One was trying to kill the Vicelord, and her heart stopped beating. Her hand paused over the hilt of her saber, but she stopped when she realized that her Master’s wound was being healed, versus being made worse.

Katrine yelled the name of the DeWinter girl, and Srina felt it in her bones, as she watched the mouse-haired woman-child try to claw her way toward Darth Metus. Srina’s expression hardened immeasurably, and with an almost lazy flick of her wrist, [member="Scherezade deWinter"] would find herself flying toward Katrine, and away from the dreadlocked Vicelord. Her voice was neither cruel, nor disrespectful, but she had seen the Lupine-woman reach for her. She could feel her panic. “Calm her Katrine by any means necessary, or I swear to you, whether this is the work of the spirits or temporary insanity… I will split her from neck to navel.”

It took everything she had not to C R U S H the girl into nothing. Anger, real and true, began to roll through Srina Talon with the force of a hurricane. There were bigger issues than Scherezade. [member="Mirvak"] seemed as if he was not yet done. His rage boiled over, blasting debris away from him as he fought the Force Drain, blindly drawing the will to fight where most would crumble. All of the fighting, the chaos, the treachery….It was too much. She would stand for it no longer.

“Enough of this.”, she hissed, silver eyes bleeding sulfuric gold in the span of a breath, as her perpetual calm shattered for all to see. Ever since Tatooine…She was not the same as she once was. Srina reached for her Master, and let their minds blend as they had before, her already pale skin seeming almost translucent in the ancient Throne Room. “ENOUGH!”

To Darth Metus, she gave strength, she gave life, and the lines between them blurred. From Darth Metus she accepted his knowledge. His experience—and when her small hand rose next there was a sharp crack in the air. The glowing gem from the hand of the skeletal remains snapped to her so quickly, that if it hit anyone, it would have shattered or plowed right through like a bullet. It hummed, glowing, seething with power. Not for the first time, Ancient Sith left her lips perfectly, as if she had known it all her life. “Udai Ki. Dzari.” [Obey Me. Cease.]

The light from the gem disappeared with her command. The spirits fled—All gone. Immediately. Unusually angry eyes turned to Mirvak as he tried to push towards Darth Metus to finish what he’d started. The Echani would be merciless. As she had already witnessed the first death of Darth Metus, she refused, to witness another. He would not die. She would not allow it. With that in mind, she fell back to the first incantation Darth Metus had ever taught her. When she spoke the words, she meant every syllable, and there was no one Force Sensitive that wouldn’t feel the wild, crushing power, that lay within.

“Odojinya.”

Her anger flowed. Her pain, oft ignored and buried, blazed from her core like a blackened beacon. Crimson and ebony bands of power rose from the ether like serpents. They left ripples in the Force, appearing on all sides of the Wargian, just outside of arms reach. It left a threatening perimeter that sought to become a cage the second she closed her fist. Her head tilted coldly, yellow-gold orbs brimming with violent intentions, and promises of pain soon to be returned.

The attack was designed to constrict even the strongest of creatures. Not only did it compress, but if it ensnared Mirvak, the bands would be the cause of unmerciful torture. He would feel as if she were burning him alive, though his furry flesh would remain untouched, and unmarred. His connection to the Force would wane. He would be returned to life in bondage. Everything that made him fierce, his strength, and his sensitivity—Would be made useless.

Darkness condensed in her right hand while she held the seemingly dead gem in her left. A spear of midnight black, mostly invisible, spread from her palm and extended as long as she was tall. Another piece of wisdom from Darth Metus. It was made of the Force, but it could kill, or injure as if it were a real, physical weapon.

“Tame your beast, Mirvak. You will learn to heel or by the will of our Master you will die like the filthy mutt you are. Choose. Now.”

​

Notes:

Spoiler

1.) Gem taken per Darth Metus' instruction.
2.) Yes, the spirits are gone.
3.) Pebble moved via TK to Katrine via permission from Pebble.
4.) Mirvak can choose to take or deny any 'hits'--Nothing was auto'd.

 

[Rin Talon]

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"] | [member="Tyris Hayes"] | [member="Daxton Bane"]

All had seemed well. Spirits treading in their all but forgotten war, bones moving as their bodies once had and the Vicelord's band proceeding with their mission while cutting a precarious path through the chaos.

It would have remained so were it not for the unseen complication that was the small deWinter witch; an individual that Rin was not familiar with, but one that warranted her attention all the same. Her approach to she and Srina's master had gone ultimately unnoticed until something inside of her stretched and snapped. A feeling she could almost compare to the feeling of muscle and bone tearing under the duress of ones regimen of physical training.

Something she was all too familiar with under the tutelage of her cousin.

The pain was subtle at first. A hollow ache in the back of her mind then slowly a recurring pang that tugged at her body just inside the side of her abdomen - she knew not why. She did not truly feel it, she did not truly experience it, instead turning her attention to Srina as she watched the woman react to the unfolding events; her expression reflecting what the doppelganger could only read as the subtly etched signs of pain and anger. And she was all too familiar with anger.

Gripping tightly to the cold-steel vibroblades in her hands, her knuckles turning a ruddy tinge of pale, silver-blue eyes scanned the room until they followed the other set to the beast that had been explained to her inside her mind. A beast that now no longer possessed it's leash, towering in it's monstrous splendor with nothing behind it's eyes but the raging ferocity of an animal left to it's feral desires; it's carnal urges.

'Understood, he moves he dies.' The echani doppelganger returned instinctively to the other echani, spinning the hilts of the blades in her palms as she loosened her grip. She needed to be loose enough to cleanly slice the beast in two should that be required, but just enough grip to block his attacks should he find purchase in an angle towards her. Her grip decided and her mind set, Rin stepped forward just to the right of a direct line between Mirvak and her cousin. Close enough to feel the oozing darkness that seeped out from the other echani.

Rin did not care for the child-witch, the shrill cry from the other witch falling on deaf ears - only a chill trickling down her spine in natural response. She did not care for the child of Metus nearby or for the other beings that had come with them. Her priority was clear, her purpose visible without complication, as she stood between the seemingly unyielding beast, Srina and Metus. If he made a move he would find the cold tip or edge of her blades, he would find an agonizing bite of cold metal on flesh as she emulated what she had been taught.

She was Echani and if he sought pain, she would give it to him.

Even death.

 

[Dalton Kenway]

Location: The Fountains of the Spire, Haseria
Objective: Clear out the corruption
Allies In Vacinity: [member="Lyla Quinn"] | [member="Jia Darkhold"]

Dalton and the Confederacy troops circled the fountains, coming around to the main courtyard entrance to the Spire. The building rose from the ground, crawling up to the skies and dwarfed their tiny figures standing below it. All was quiet bar the bubbling fountains and hum of the ships engines in the distance.

The General did a slow 360 where he stood to look around, shaking his head. The Corellian ship was still up in the air.

”Well. Looks like we were too late for this party,” he sighed.

Without warning, two stained glass windows from the third floor above exploded outwards, raining shards of glass down onto the unit, followed by two bodies of Confederacy soldiers, landing in a grizzly heap of broken bone and showing stab wounds to the torso and arms. Dalton and his mean ducked out of the way and looked up, all hands reaching for their weapons, as a horde of skeletal warriors clattered and screeched their way out of the broken windows and down to the ground level of the fountains.

”Look out!” Dalton shouted the obvious as he drew his Corellian sword.

Close quarter combat was just as brutal and deadly as long or short range blaster fire. The soldiers with him picked off where they could with blaster fire, but the close quarters of the pillars and fountains means their skeletal enemies had the advantage for their swords and pikes. It was melee combat or nothing, unless you got a lucky shot.

As his emerald gloved hands gripped the hilt of the sword, the pressure pad kicked in and the Corellian symbols lit up across the blade in a faint turquoise glow. One skeletal warrior, complete with decaying facial bone, was prime for a strike, and Dalton cleaved right through the ribcage, snapping the bone and spitting up splinters. The skeleton collapse in two, bones clattering to the floor with his pike.

A blaster bolt zipped overhead, and Dalton turned in time to see one of his men be thrown backwards into a pillar with a skeleton ready to impale him there. Not on his watch. The General ran forward, swung his blade and sliced the skull from the shoulders of the walking corpse, taking off some bone and dead flesh as he did. The skull exploded on impact to the pillar.

Dalton exchanged a silent nod of thanks to the younger soldier.

”Secure this entrance!”

Grunts, shouts and grizzly sounds of blaster fire, dying soldiers and exploding bones fanned out around the once peaceful fountains, but the Confederacy unit was stronger. They pushed on, and Dalton made sure to keep the men tight and pave the way for whomever was inside the Spire would be able to get out without running into trouble.

The battle continued…

 

[Daxton Bane]

Floating as if on a dream, everything seemed like a haze that burned clear with the gem going his companions hand. As if stirring from a dream Daxton seemed to realize just now where he was and reached out to offer his strength to the others. Reachimg deep within him, he tapped into the Force and extended his strength to Metus to bolster him in his battle with Mirvak.

 

[Er'in Tenel]

Location: The Fountains of the Spire, Haseria
Objective: SITHSPAWN! Why is it always Sithspawn?
Allies In Vacinity: @Lyla Quinn | @Jia Darkhold | [member="Dalton Kenway"]

Er'in bounced lightly off the hovering Corellian ship, redirecting her course towards a safe landing spot and slowing her speed.

The Terentatek was not so cooperative, it took the express route down, using it's claws to slow it's descent to a survivable speed in a shower of broken masonry and glass that cascaded across the Fountains, before landing in a cloud of rubble and shattered bones. It didn't seem... particularly all the worse for the wear for that feat.

Beyond and inside, Er'in could feel the battle like the pulse of a heartbeat.

'Go on Mirvak, free yourself. Show them what it means to be Sith.'

Unfortunately, she couldn't affect the outcome of that battle in any meaningful way - and she didn't personally want Metus to die, she was in fact pretty neutral on the subject after time to get used to the idea. But feeling Mivrak grasp the truth and act upon it - however crudely - was invigorating.

The Terentatek charged, but Er'in merely raised her blade in the Makashi fencers salute, blade before eye, then... wasn't there, standing three feet to the left as it ploughed into the fountain she had been standing next to. She gauged it's speed and aggression carefully, letting it rise and turn without attacking, patient. Then as it came towards her with heart-stopping speed she bounced lightly, and sprung clear over it's head - freed of the constraints of a room with a roof, she had all the higher ground she needed to assess it's tactics.

It was very, very smart, for a rancor. It didn't charge a third time, instead furiously setting about demolishing any cover or high ground she might possess in the nearby area - fountains, skeletons, spirits - they all topped or exploded before it's force-enhanced strength.

She paused, waiting. It assumed she was purely on the defensive. When in fact...

... now.

She stepped forward into the creatures reach, her movements precise, measured and beautiful, her blade extended out in a perfect strike that severed one hand just above the wrist, the lightsaber blade neatly slipping into the gap in it's armour plates.

She'd more than slightly misstimed it's reaction speed however - too confident in her own abilities and speed, forgetting that it was very hard to predict the future movements of a Terentatek - not impossible, but difficult enough she sidestepped in the wrong direction and was batted aside by the return swipe of it's other claw.

She managed to predict the incoming blow and curled against the attack, the bonecrushing force better distributed across her armour and the somewhat less solid frame within, but then physics took a firm hold and she was flung half way across the plaza, skidding to a halt against a surviving statue.

 

[Malok]

It all happened so quickly.

In one moment, the sheer wrath of the Sith had given him a second to breathe - a second to think. By instinct alone did he repulse the whole of the room before stealing that which [member="Mirvak"] sought to take. Life. Yet as the Amber bands began to fade, now finally having their fill, the beast did not crumble into the dirt. He did not fall, reduced to an empty shell of fur and fang. Instead, he rose again, empowered by sheer will and the Dark Side. The sentient side of Mirvak had departed, and in its wake was a force of nature. And it moved closer. Darth Metus tightened his grip about his lightsaber.

Yet before he could force himself upright. Before he could make use of the newfound energy now coalescing throughout his body, another figure bounded forward. For an instant, the Sith knew relief as [member="Muad Dib"] filled his vision. Yet the lightning he slung...his words...they left Darth Metus feeling hollow. He felt as he did before, all those years ago when he but a mercenary for the first Confederacy. He felt as he did when the Dreadguard, ten thousand sons he had raised to protect the fledgling nation, abandoned him. He felt as he did when Calico Tal'Verda, first among them, had dared to raise a hand against him.

Never again... The thought echoed within him as the Mad One finally pressed his hand upon the Sith's flesh. In this instant, Darth Metus was about to raise his saber and run the man clean through, agony be damned. Yet, as the knife made a rough departure from his body and the energies of life began to stitch his broken flesh, reality was made apparent. Muad shoved his thoughts into the mind of his vod, revealing the truth of his endeavor. A mighty distraction to close the gap. A necessary sacrifice of power to keep Darth Metus in this world. An opportunity to share with him the numerous outcomes he had seen...and the concerns which burned within him.

The Shatterpoint, while it was indeed the catalyst for the Sith's restoration, showed him that there were but a trio of paths. As a man, Darth Metus would respond to the day's events dramatically, as this would be the straw that broke the camel's back. Muad Dib had ensured he lived, but would he do so as a Tyrant, driven by paranoia? Would he use betrayal, old and new, as justification to build a wall around himself and drive the Southern Systems to ruin? Or would he live as an apathetic? Would this be the point where the Sith reflected upon every endeavor he had ever undertaken in disgust? Would this be the point where he looked upon all those years serving the Mandalorians, serving their best interests, only to be villifed and now exiled? Would this be the day where he said kark it and walked away from it all?

Or would he learn from this and use every shread as fuel for something greater. Something better.

I see you, ner'vod. he said, uttering the words directly into the Mad One's mind. Thank you.

Precious seconds rolled by as the wound continued to repair. [member="Srina Talon"] stepped in the way that a loyal apprentice did. In but an instant, their minds were one once again, the second time in the whole of their relationship. She would bear witness to the flood of options that Muad Dib was concerned about. She would see glimpses of memories dancing before his mind's eye - from his betrayal at the hands of the Dreadguard to the vision he had seen of her own betrayal alongside Aryn Teth. She would see that the pieces were there to shatter their bond, but as she joined with him she would feel...as if his hand were clutching to it for dear life. It would take more, so much more, for what they had to be broken.

And as she moved, wielding the fruits of his knowledge to quell their reason for coming to Haseria - the world itself would breathe a sigh of relief. As the spirits were Banished, so too was the Blight that had poisoned their water and soured their earth. So too was the threat of imminent destruction.

Now, all that remained was the Worgian.

Darth Metus felt confident now. Within Srina's...no...within his grasp now was wielded a Spear of Midnight black. Power had been expended in an attempt to restrain the wrathful creature as well - Odojinya, a budding favorite of his Apprentice. What laid before was the option to crush the beast underfoot...but it was addition of Daxton's power that made the Sith think differently. There was always an inquisitive edge to the Zabrak, and as his essence flowed into the Sith, he felt himself...keenly aware of the Shatterpoint. He found himself following new lines - not within himself, not even within the Mad One or his Srina...no, he was seeing lines all about the room. Places where...reality itself could be shoved, poked, and prodded.

And poke, prod, and shove he did.

With his offhand yet outstretched did emerald smoke begin to roll off his flesh. The power of old Magick, the very same taught by Madri, manifested itself in spectacular fashion. Behind Mirvak were the "points" in reality nudged to the point where they caved in. The naked eye would witness this as the literal scenery behind the Wolf cracking and giving way to an ethereal abyss of swirling emerald. Wails and Paecian Hisses could be heard from these depths, and the purpose was clear. Mirvak was but a step away from joining the now-gone spirits. Darth Metus was one step away from banishing his oh so ambitious Apprentice to a far corner of the Netherworld itself.

But he did not shove the beast in yet.

Srina had already spoken for him.

Now Mirvak had a choice. Submit or Begone.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

All was silent to her ears as she continued to pound her fists against [member="Darth Metus"] 's back. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. She wasn't even tickling him. She was powerless, and still she continued, fighting with every last inch of her being.

It was only [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] 's Force Scream that penetrated through the shields the pebble's mind had raised to block everything out. Her fists dropped to the ground and she blinked in confusion, her head turning around to see her trainer, the Witch who'd been charged with taking care of her, with teaching her.

Scherezade's mouth opened. Words. There were words that were meant to come out of it, but not a sound was emitted then, no matter how hard she tried. And then came the Force Lightning, sent all around the room by [member="Muad Dib"]. One of the electric tendrils hit Scherezade between her shoulder blades, a mere instant before [member="Srina Talon"] used the Force to send her through the air towards Katrine, as though she was nothing but a rag puppet.

Landing at the feet of Katrine, now Scherezade found her voice. The pain wasn't crawling, it was stabbing through her body, tight and precise, burning but not, and her landing hadn't been graceful either.

Pain. This was pain. And while she might've been physically fine (she wasn't), it was the feel of t that sent her to shreds, made her body want to collapse back into itself, return to the state of the pebble in which things such as this could never be.

But it did not happen.

Instead she remained on the ground by Katrine, her body writhing in agony at the pain, the occasional whimper making it through her lips despite her wishes.

Scherezade had been defeated.

 

[Katrine Van-Derveld]

(4)​

Before she had even fully recovered from one outburst, another had come, this time in form of lighting, her body shaking in the afterwave of it that she barel managed to understand what was happening around her.

Her eyes opened wide not because she was aware but because the spirits had felt the apparitions vanish all at once, though it was the only thing Katrine comprehend as she shook off the feeling, still feeling herself shudder from the lighting when Scherezade had come flying into her before she'd heard [member="Srina Talon"] speaking to her. By any means necessary, the Echani had said or she would split her from neck to navel. "No," the young Witch managed to mutter as she gathered her bearings, reaching out for the teenager at her side as she blinked, searching for Scherezade's hands to keep her still.

She could remember almost in perfect color now the way her Mother would suspend her in the air, feel the hate for such action. Katrine could understand why but she couldn't ever bring herself to accept the necessity of it. "Stay down and," the blonde told [member="Scherezade deWinter"], "never attack Uncle Isley again. They will skin you alive, I won't be able to protect you." It was the truth. There was only so much she could. Srina might have held less power than she but the way she felt now, her power seemed to equal that of her Uncle, that of her Father and Nona even as though they were one. And they very well could have been if she could concentrate on only that to comprehend but she couldn't.

 

[Mirvak]

As the amber soul-sucking tendrils from Metus retracted from him, Mirvak's slow march broke into a slow acceleration into another tenacious charge at the Darth. He slashed his lightsaber in front of him, raking a line into the tiled floor with his blade, his intentions were clearly still to kill [member="Darth Metus"] regardless. He barked a guttural war cry in his native tongue,"GOR'LEFASSSSSS!" Simply meaning "slaugher." He stopped in his tracks when one of the dark red and black bands caught his left fist, the claws of his feet screeching against the marble floor. His arm muscles shook as he pulled up at the band around his wrist, looking down to see what had caught him. He instantly turned his head up towards the [member="Srina Talon"] and her clone, curling his lips back and snarling. Another band wrapped around his lightsaber hand, and pulled it behind him. The Worgian barely took another step forward before the spell began enveloping him completely, his lightsaber extinguished in his hand as he began to be constricted into a torturous cocoon.

He struggled with all his might, the cocoon bending and bowing in many places but still holding him, until it tightened completely, closing his arms around his torso. His head shook, his maw dripping saliva as he convulsed in pain. His force rage waned, some of his conscious coming back to him. He heard Srina address him and give him an offer, and his frantic, enraged, dilated eyes fell on her. He uttered a pained response,"You know... not what... you demand! Auuuggh! A True Sith accepts no defeat, no surrender!" He lost himself in his rage again briefly, growling and struggling against the spell again before coming back to sanity. "Pampered child! Your crowning achievement will be giving a true Sith the death he deserves!"

 

[Ria Misrani]

Vulkanus and his squad had witnessed the entire thing with @Er'in Tenel, and it wasn't that they hadn't done anything. They were all still wondering how in the world it happened so fast, nevertheless, the creature had taken a quick way down. He leaned out of the new hole that the tower bore and watched the scene, "no we do nothing they've got plenty of help if this force user dared to disturb them." He looked at the 92nd, "we press onward." He motioned for them to follow them deeper into the vault where the creature had quite suddenly broken free. Quietly the team moved from the Arcanium and deeper into the near black room in the hopes of securing knowledge that no one had seen in centuries. Or perhaps, Vulkanus on his own wanted to know more of himself although typically he didn't care, he was made to fight and that suited him fine. The sounds of boots entering the darkness could be heard.

The feeling of dread washed over them all, it was as if the creature wasn't necessarily rampaging just to rampage, no.

It had fled.

But what did it flee, he wondered he could still hear the commotion outside and knew a fight was taking place. The 92nd would serve when there was a reason to get involved until then they'd just be in the way. "You know we could end this."

"With what?" He snarled, it wasn't like they had come up here with sniper rifles in preparation, "we'd only be in the way. This is a forcer's fight not ours, and [member="Darth Metus"] can defend himself now... what have we here."

 

[Anastasia Verd]

(4)​

Shock. It had come as a shock, the way the lighting had surged through her, shaking her up completely, her whole body trembling even as it has ceased, her hands forgetting what they were meant to do, making her fall back and hit her head slightly again the tiles beneath, only her thick hair helping to prevent an even worse attack on her skull.

This time, she didn't get up, staring up into the ceiling, letting the feeling of the electricity wash over her. She had never felt it, yet another first for the girl who had only been herself for such a short time. She couldn't tell just how long it had been either, her sense of time still distorted. It felt short, too short incomparison to a lifetime of captivity inside her own mind and right now, feeling the sensation, it was so very slowly beginning to sink in, a single notion: I am free. Though it hadn't completely felt so, not for a bit longer, still feeling the monster somewhere nearby, as if she was about to return and trap her again any moment now.

And then the feeling had faded, freedom washing her over like fresh water. Water? The thought had surprised her. There seemed so much in her mind, swelling, growing, developing and she was only catching up with herself.

https://youtu.be/JQVop3-OOXc​

Slowly, she'd blinked, this time without needing to remind her before she had slowly worked on getting herself up, boosting herself with her hands, looking around. The knife had left her father's vulnerable spot, the girl who had stabbed him was just flying off, the rest of them focused on the large creature pressed against the wall, something holding him back. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Anastasia had a word for what was happening to her but it escaped her, like a far away memory that didn't belong to her. The creature continued to protested, speaking and thought of why he had chose to rebel against her father. Couldn't she recall of a time when he'd been loyal? Loyalty, the word sunk into her head then. It held strength in her mind though she had learned its meaning through the monster that had kept her captive. The monster hadn't been loyal to her father, not at all. Even the way she had called out to him when she spoke had sent a shudder to her. She didn't understand the meaning of the word Dad when she spoke it and yet, she understood loyalty even if it was reserved for the dead. She hid behind someone who could teach her power and yet Dad hadn't taught her enough for her to leave. She was going to leave, Anastasia remembered the monster's thoughts before she had stepped in her. She had every intention of separating her from her family, something that had scared the girl in the moment but now, when the monster was gone, it somehow seemed like a horrible nightmare finally ending. Finally gone.

"He doesn't understand the meaning of loyalty," Anastasia suddenly found herself say as she willed herself to her feet, finally, for the first time on her own. Her feet felt slightly unstable when she controlled them, lacking a confidence the monster had in her movement. Not only that, but the words she produced with her own mouth, with her vocal courds. She knew the sound of her voice and yet, it sounded different now. Softer. There seemed to be something missing in it now that she spoke in comparison to when the monster spoke though Anastasia didn't know what that was.

She remembered again her words. Loyalty, she reminded herself in her head as she watched @Mirvak. "End him or it will spread," she finally said with a resolve, looking at [member="Srina Talon"], who had clearly been dared to do so. Anastasia learned about loyalty from someone without a heart but someone with a deadlyl sense of loyalty. If one was no loyal, one had to die. if one didn't serve a purse, one had to die. There was nothing else.

 

[Malok]

"Bac'kaj."​

Judgment thundered from the mouth of the Sith Lord. A dangerous step forward was taken towards the restrained beast. He wanted nothing more than to exact vengeance...to tear the hide free from the Worgian and to wear it as a trophy. But there was one small shred of Darth Metus that worked against this feeling. It was not mercy. No. It was Pride. His Pride as a Sith. Telekinetic fury danced between Darth Metus' fingers, gathering in strength as he drew ever closer.

This Apprentice had done as a True Sith had.

One, the Master, wielded power.

And [member="Mirvak"] had craved it.

But now, he was paying the price for biting off more than he could stomach. Thrusting his hand forward, a column of sheer power would erupt across the room - more than enough to cast an enchained Worgian into the depths of the Netherworld. When the topsy-turvy laws of Netherworld-gravity eventually worked upon Mirvak, he would find himself falling into a realm of Blood. The Force was not his ally here, nor was it the ally of any trapped within its sordid depths. For more cast within these godsforsaken lands, there was seldom any possibility of escape.

"Death is a release. A validation to his claims. This is a more fitting end. The end of his ambitions. The end of his power. Such is the fate of Traitors."

And with this Betrayal sorted did the Sith Lord return to a knee once more. Although very much alive, despite the best efforts of the Pebble, there was still recovery to be done. Darth Metus, by no means, was finished with [member="Mirvak"] however. There would be a true and final reckoning for his betrayal. But not yet. Not today. Not here.

But the natives of Haseria would never hear a word of this tale. They would only know that the Confederacy kept their oath and see, this day, that the blight had been lifted from their land.

 

[Er'in Tenel]

Location: The Fountains of the Spire, Haseria
Objective: Finish the fight
Allies In Vacinity: @Lyla Quinn | @Jia Darkhold | Dalton Kenwayhttp://starwarsrp.net/user/16783-dalton-kenway/

Mirvak vanished from her senses, the Terentatek howled it's victory cry and turned towards Er'in.

Today... today was not a good day. She hadn't liked him. He'd been stupid, but he deserved better than that. She'd always known the CIS was... well... she'd know what she'd signed up for... no, no she hadn't. But she'd known when she stayed and she much prefered the risks here to the risks elsewhere.

But he'd deserved more than that, foolish or not, at least bring the blade down cleanly. To do otherwise... well...

The slight woman stared down the Terentatek as it charged at her, face emotionless, but mind filled to boiling point with swirling emotion. For the first time since her true awakening into the Force, dark energy smouldered off the surface of her skin, sparking off like lightning and arcing into the ground.

The look on her face was one of contempt - it seemed a few people were having a rite of passage today - she sidestepped the charging monster, carving away at it's tendon with a flick-hit from her saber, then circled the beast as it howled and turned, another elegant blow sliced away at it's wrist, another took off first one tusk, then the other.

The creature was maimed - giant, dangerous, but maimed and helpless. Her sneer dropped. It didn't deserve this either - there was not one iota of satisfaction in this pain, this suffering, not when there were more deserving targets.

She waited as it rose to it's feet for the final charge, turning into it's weakened blow and letting it rend the flesh of her shoulder arm, relishing the pain even as her blade-hand snapped out to sever the front of it's neck.

The corpse slammed to the ground, now nothing more than a steaming heap of meat.

Er'in walked away without another backward glance.

 

[Muad Dib]

Breaking the connection with a nod to Isley he stumbled back and moved several meters away. Breathing deeply he settled himself and took a knee. Healing was a skill he had learned and though he could wield the ability, it felt foreign to him. He was made for death, not life. Yet many things had changed and continued to change.

Watching the events unfold he observed the renewed Isley banish the pup to the Netherworld. Srina and her doppelganger were at the ready. The daughter was up. The young girl near Kat was listening to the other young woman. The spirits were gone, the reanimated bones lay down, and the jewel rested in the white haired woman's hand. Daxton and Rapax nearby were also watching. It seemed as though everything had calmed.

Rising to his feet he rolled his shoulders lightly and moved through the group headed out. There was no need for his presence here any longer plus he had other things that required his attention. But as he passed Isley he paused to look at the other man. Muad spoke no words but his glowing gaze revealed that there was something left to be said between them.

But that was for another day.

He left the room and the citadel.

(Out)

@Er'in Tenel [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Anastasia Verd"] [member="Mirvak"] [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] [member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Daxton Bane"] [member="Rin Talon"] [member="Srina Talon"] [member="Rapax"]

 

[Srina Talon]

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"] | [member="Tyris Hayes"] | [member="Daxton Bane"]

It seemed, that she had been correct, and that Katrine held a soft spot for the human that had attacked her Master. Silver eyes lingered on the witch. The Echani liked the blonde haired woman. Genuinely. That fondness, however, would not stop her from showing [member="Scherezade deWinter"] her own intestines. Even if this had been a do or die situation, where she had been facing a real enemy, her actions were deplorably executed. Anyone that was not Darth Metus, not the Confederacy, would have liberated her from the mortal coil in an instant. “Yes. Keep her contained—I will not say it again.”

She liked Katrine. Would she fight her, despite being the lesser force user, to protect her Master? Yes. Srina could not back down. It was not, and could never be, her way.

Thankfully, the chit stayed down.

[member="Mirvak"] deserved her wrath just as much as the little girl on the floor. She was already broken. The Wargian was not—not yet. She stared into the eyes of the snaring, insipid beast, and watched coldly while her dark web began to ensnare him. One monstrous limb at a time. He struggled and she found a dim satisfaction in his pain. Such frantic, animal eyes. “I know exactly what I demand.”

“It is my every hope that you would refuse. You can rest easy with the knowledge that you were caged and defeated, before your betters, by a mere, pampered child.”

[member="Anastasia Verd"] wished for the beast to die, and Srina, fully agreed. She was tired of feeling his eyes, his disdain, every time their paths crossed. She could deal with such childish antics regularly but she would not accept someone that attacked their Master on a whim. It was the way of the Sith, of course, but Srina was not yet one of them. She did not need to adhere to that feeble and poisoned frame of mind. “No…He can understand very little. Power is all that speaks to him.”

‘Wait. Keep your eyes on the girl.’, she silently bid Rin, yellow-gold eyes flashing. Srina herself wanted nothing more than to plunge the spear in her hand through the Wargian. Yet, she was not merely herself. She was also Darth Metus. He had become her, and she him. The small woman ground her teeth together as the Dread Lord drew power from between them, and sent a column of light at the trapped Mirvak. His presence, his existence, all faded. Still the scent of wet dog remained. ‘We follow our Master. To protect me is to protect him. If that is what it means to become true Sith…I will forever remain as I am. We will remain as we are. The reward is not worth the sacrifice.’

The white-haired Echani approached her Master as [member="Muad Dib"] departed. Memories, possible futures, which the Mad One had shared with her Master lingered in her head. Srina sank down beside the Vicelord, knowing, that being closer to the ground would save her from hitting her head quite as hard. He would find the gem that she had silenced, still very much alive, but dormant pressed into the palm of his hand. “I will not question your judgment. Only, know, that we will see that mongrel again. There is a vast difference between lost and gone.”

Darth Metus had given Mirvak the Netherworld. It was a chance the ungrateful Wargian did not deserve. The Echani sat down amongst the bones and ancient dust, letting the dreadlocked man metaphysically take what he needed through their mind-meld. Was it not the place of a Dark Acolyte to give? To serve? In respect to her duties, and to her attachments, she would always defend Darth Metus. With everything she had, and everything she didn’t.

‘You should have let me kill him.’​

Her body slumped against the Sith Lord when the mind-meld broke. Her energy was beyond the point of spent and the young woman blacked out. This would leave the enforcement of her earlier duties and threats to Rin. Nothing could change what had happened, but hopefully, Darth Metus would escape the paranoid madness that Muad had projected. It was only one of a million possibilities.

One, of a million ways, for the Confederacy to live—Or die.

 

[Daxton Bane]

Falling to his knees, his energy spent, Daxton fumbled for the release for his helmet, as his vision began to swirl and it got harder to breathe. Sharing power was draining to the extreme, which is why he normally refused to do so under the best of circumstances, but this was a different situation and different person. Daxton had made a pledge, one born of blood and magic, as binding as life itself. He took his obligations seriously, even if it would cost him as it did now..

Finally he stripped it off and took gulps of air as if a man drowning before spitting out a gob of blackened blood. Wiping away the stain from his lips with back of his gauntleted hand, he glanced to see if there were any in need of his aid.