Mission The Frozen Ascent | RNR Vanguard

[Lorn Reingard]

Allies: Aiden Porte | Lily Decoria | Connel Vanagor | Rosalyn Dubois
Foes: Kasir Dorran | Darth Strosius Soah Ty’Jyn

Location: Enarc

​

Lorn slouched, a prisoner of boredom. The theatrics were almost insulting. Big bad shadow man and his pet princess thought they could unravel him? He could feel the first tendrils, black as pitch, slithering in his mind, but they were just there, inert. A lazy caress. If this was their grand strategy, he'd outlast them. He almost chuckled, a dry, humorless sound, before the world imploded.

Pain ripped through him, a symphony of agony composed of his deepest fears. It wasn't probing, it was dissection. They were flaying him alive, one memory at a time. Groans escaped his throat, a guttural protest against the violation. He glared at the shadowy man, a silent promise of retribution burning in his eyes. They started with the easy targets, the ones he'd already buried, but their absence was a constant ache anyway. Fine. Take it. Let them choke on the ghosts of lost friends.

Then, the nightmare shifted. The grotesque, bloated face of his Master, the man he'd been forced to murder, swam into focus. Lorn's muscles screamed against the chains, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned bone-white. He hurled walls of steel into his mind, barricading the memory. Each word was a blow, each accusation a fresh wound. The darkseeker was relentless, twisting his memories, amplifying the guilt, the doubt. Lorn coughed, a spasm of pain wracking his body. He tasted blood.

A brief respite came when he instructed his pupil. But the darkness surged back, a wave of black bile, just as a Darkseeker materialized before him, a blade glinting under Lorn's chin. He dared the man with his eyes to just get it over with, to give him a physical pain he could understand. But the shade remained silent, the blade a cold promise. Instead, a whisper invaded his mind, a single word, laced with venom: "Talia."

His sister.

Rage detonated within him, a supernova of fury. He roared, a guttural sound of pure, unadulterated hate, straining against the chains that held him captive. He would tear them limb from limb, rip the shadows from their souls. But he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of a sound, of breaking him. He stayed silent, a fortress of clenched teeth and burning eyes.

Then the princess stepped forward, her own dark tendrils, snaking into his mind. The gate, seemingly unlatched by the previous assault, creaked open, and she slipped inside like a serpent. A wave of pain, sharp and piercing, followed as images flooded his mind: his father's death, a meaningless sacrifice in a forgotten skirmish. Lorn screamed, a raw, primal sound that echoed through the chamber. Her words were poison, coating the memory, rewriting it. His father's selfless act became a pathetic waste, a pointless gesture in a war he couldn't win. The respect he held, the honor he attributed to his father's sacrifice, began to dissolve under the acid of her suggestion. Doubts crept in, insidious and unwelcome. Was his father a fool? Was his death truly in vain?

But then she uttered another name, the one he had buried deepest, the one he had spent years suppressing: "Virginia."

A banshee wail tore from Lorn's throat, a sound born of pure, unadulterated terror. He thrashed against the chains, a desperate, futile struggle against the psychic invasion. "I will hunt you both to the ends of the galaxy!" he roared, his voice raw and broken. His body convulsed, rejecting the intrusion, but the tendrils were too deep, too entrenched.

The Royal Republic needed to burn. The thought, alien and vile, blossomed in his mind, a seed planted in fertile ground.

No. No, no, no. He shook his head violently, the movement jerky and desperate. He had to fight. He had to claw his way back from the abyss. He focused, desperately searching for the flickering embers of hope, the unwavering belief in justice that had defined him. He couldn't let the rage consume him, couldn't allow himself to become a puppet, a weapon in their twisted game. He clung to the memory of Virginia's smile, the the childlike love that they had shared. He pictured dearly departed friends, their faces etched with laughter and cheer, all of the good memories he had developed with them. He invoked their strength, their spirit, their unwavering belief in the good. He imagined them standing beside him, a shield against the darkness. Slowly, painstakingly, he began to push back, a fragile light against the encroaching shadows. Each flicker was a victory, each surge of hope a weapon.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Darth Strosius Soah Ty’Jyn
Foes: Lorn Reingard Aiden Porte Lily Decoria Connel Vanagor Rosalyn Dubois

​

Shoulders back, chin lifted, Kasir remained devoid of any satisfaction or disdain the Jedi might have expected, instead, relishing in the darker emotions that filled the room. He gave nothing away as every flicker of an eye was noted, and every breath was counted. Every twitch of Lorn's muscles, every act of defiance emanating from the Jedi, was easily absorbed by a calculating gaze, then dissected, and analyzed, before being stored away. His lips twitched, not of malice, but understanding; the man's flames of passion fueled the Darkseekers' true purpose here, for he could twist it, mold it, let it fuel more darkness if he so pleased.

The sangnir merely studied the Jedi's delusion, who still clung to the belief that he was in control of his own fate, that his will was truly unbreakable; but Kasir knew better, for every mind had its breaking point, and he would undoubtedly reach his soon enough.

Beside him, the acolyte wove her shadows further into their captive’s mind, an artist at work. Kasir remained impassive on the outside, but noted the pride that was barely suppressed, embracing her art. Her words were but a symphony to the ears. In Soah, he now recognized the blossoming of power, for in these moments, she finally proved her worth.

When the Jedi's howl pierced the air, he remained unflinching, and his cold gaze held true, one that could absorb everything but give nothing in return. The chains may have clanged and strained against every bite, but he would not.

It was then that another presence rippled through the chamber. At last, Kasir moved, tilting his head slightly, but not finding a need to fully turn to address the figure. “Inform the High Priest that everything is proceeding as anticipated.” The way he spoke suggested there was nothing more to be said.

A small step was taken towards the table where a lightsaber lay in the shadows. His organic hand stretched out, fingers caressing the hilt with reverence yet tinged with hunger. The Jedi’s weapon felt inviting, and he allowed his grasp to curl around it possessively, as though it had always been his.

When the short path was retraced to bring him before Lorn once more, his hands crossed before his body, the lightsaber hilt in hand, as if it had already submitted to serve a new Master.

Using the Mind Probe and maintaining separate connections was effortless with his level of mastery. But he could feel it slowly beginning to drain more of his own energy.

Now, he was ready to snuff out the remaining light.

Having considered every possibility earlier when the acolyte crafted tales of her own, he believed it to be Virginia who held the closest spot to Lorn’s heart, a bond stronger than those bound by blood. With the tendril that linked him to the man alone, he channeled his energies and began projecting images into the mind. It would be a continuation of Soah’s narrative where King Duncan Varnell sold the woman into a political marriage.

Now, through the veiled lens, it would then reveal that the figure she was delivered to would be none other than Kasir. And upon further inspection, his former lover would even appear content, at peace, with a fervor in her eyes that Lorn may have never seen before— or perhaps, had all but forgotten. When one's gaze fell upon the delicate collar that adorned her neck, it was clear that this was not a mark of slavery, but a token of willing submission and devotion.

The scenes continued as he pressed deeper into the Jedi's psyche, affirming it was he who ruled in this domain, and his territory was vast. Yet, he was no malevolent king to those held dear in this story; instead, he allowed what was not devoured by him, to be passed onto others, who were all but eager hounds to run off with the scraps.

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Interacting with: Kasir Dorran Darth Strosius
Enemies: @Aiden Porte Lily Decoria Connel Vanagor Rosalyn Dubois

​

Soah watched, enthralled, as Kasir twisted the threads of Lorn's mind with meticulous precision. The Jedi's resistance was admirable; futile, but admirable. His rage, his anguish, the way his mind clawed desperately for the light... it was delicious. Thrilling.

Her inky tattoos slithered in anticipation, the black tendrils coiling and shifting like living whispers against her skin, mirroring her quiet exhilaration. This was power. This was true artistry, the unmaking of a man, reshaping him into something else entirely. She understood now. Kasir's path wasn't just about destruction; it was about sculpting the very essence of a being into something far more useful.

And if Lorn truly meant to hunt them to the ends of the galaxy?

She grinned, fangs glinting in the dim chamber light.

Let him try.

With the same precision Kasir wielded in the mind, Soah moved in the physical, letting her fingers brush the damp nape of Lorn's neck, delicate yet deliberate. His sweat-slicked hair clung to her fingertips as she pressed the bead of her own blood against his scalp, the Blood Trail mark setting with a faint sizzle. A tether. A promise. No matter where he fled, she would find him.

A single drop of crimson should seemingly seal his fate.

She drew back, watching the way his body shook, his mind caught in the thrall of Kasir's illusions. Virginia. Her name had shattered him. But the vision Kasir painted now? That would break him.

Soah licked the last remnants of her blood from her thumb, savoring the iron tang. Now, she would wait. She wanted to see exactly how far Kasir could push him. How much of Lorn would be left when this was over.

Or if anything of the Jedi would remain at all.

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Allies: Aiden Porte | Lily Decoria | Connel Vanagor | Rosalyn Dubois
Foes: Kasir Dorran | Darth Strosius Soah Ty’Jyn

Location: Enarc

​

Lorn felt the grip of darkness tighten around him like an iron shackle, each wave of Kasir's malevolence crashing against the defenses of his mind. He had faced many trials in his life, but nothing had prepared him for this.

He tried to focus on the light, the glimmers of hope that had once illuminated his path. Images of his friends flashed through his mind, of Virginia, of what she once was. Her laughter echoed in the depths of his memory, a beacon guiding him through the encroaching shadows. But the more he clung to her, the more distorted she became under Kasir's cruel hand, her visage shifting into that of a stranger, her smile replaced by a smirk that mocked his pain.

"No." he whispered hoarsely, forcing the words through clenched teeth.

But Kasir was relentless, a puppeteer pulling strings with sinister precision. The Jedi could feel the temperature drop as he conjured visions, horrifying possibilities unfurling like dark flowers in his mind. He saw Virginia, vibrant and alive, but also trapped, a pawn in a cruel game orchestrated by a tyrant. The collar around her neck gleamed ominously, and for a heartbeat, he couldn't tell if it was a mark of ownership or a symbol of her choosing.

Lorn's resolve faltered, the walls he had erected beginning to crumble beneath the weight of despair. He could feel Soah's presence, too, an unsettling intimacy as her touch lingered, the Blood Trail marking him as a possession.

He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to scream, to give in to the whirlwind of anguish spiraling within him. Yet, each howl of pain that escaped his lips felt like an admission of defeat, a surrender to the dark forces assailing him. "You won't break me." he cried, though the confidence in his voice wavered, the conviction cracking like glass.

The darkness pressed closer, and Lorn felt the suffocating weight of despair settle heavily on his heart. He remembered their moments together, the small, stolen glances, the quiet nights under the stars where they had dreamed of a brighter future. Each memory twisted in his mind, reshaped by Kasir's cruel artistry, morphing into twisted nightmares where he was the architect of Virginia's suffering.

"No! This isn't real!" he shouted, desperation creeping into his voice as he clung to the last remnants of his identity.

But the shadows laughed, their grip tightening as Lorn felt himself slipping further into the abyss. He fought against the tide, but the more he resisted, the stronger the currents of despair became. He was losing himself, fading into the darkness that Kasir had crafted with such malicious intent.

The flickering light that once guided him began to dim, each heartbeat pulling him further from the surface. And as Lorn felt his thoughts muddling, the warmth of his emotions cooling to an icy dread, he realized that the battle for his soul was slipping through his fingers like sand.

"Help me." he thought, hoping someone would free him from this pain, knowing deep down that he was losing the fight.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Darth Strosius Soah Ty’Jyn
Foes: Lorn Reingard Aiden Porte Lily Decoria Connel Vanagor Rosalyn Dubois

​

Every scene etched into the recesses of Lorn’s psyche became a masterpiece born of torment. Though his focus remained on the Jedi, Kasir soon registered movement from Soah on the edges of his awareness.

A flicker of malice danced behind black irises when a metallic aroma wafted in the air, born from a Felacatian's vow, pulling at the edges of his control; it was a dangerous game, pushing the Sangnir’s disciplined mind to its limits. And when paired with Lorn’s internal plea, he found himself truly consumed by the moment. But rather than respond with mercy, he registered it as a call to dive deeper, continuing the assault that only became more ravenous.

This was to be his final act, prepared to ensure that Lorn’s already broken mind was decimated. Such vulnerability, such raw emotion, it only fueled him. Kasir continued to peel back layers of consciousness like petals of a flower; each one revealed more information, allowing it to flow back into him like a river. Every detail on the Order of Shiraya and the Republic alike was downloaded, every weakness and strength noted. Memories were ripe for the taking, and the Darkseeker was gathering his spoils. When the final layers were stripped away, it was like viewing an open canvas within the wound, ready to be manipulated for the Sith’s true purposes.

Like a spider spinning its web of manipulation, the final part of his task began— reprogramming him.

<<Any action in relation to undermining the Sith Order is to be reported immediately.>> The whispers were laced with expectation. With a soft pull, he mercifully retracted the Mind Probe, just a fraction, offering his captive the faintest moment of respite.

Leaning closer, his words slithered into the Jedi’s mind, planting more seeds into soil. <<All alliances will be closely monitored, along with any other arrangement aimed to strengthen the Light's position. Military movements-- every deployment, must be tracked. Every discussion, the small disagreement among their ranks.. all of it will reach me.>>

Just as easily as he could conjure memories, he too could erase them, leaving only duty in Lorn's mind now; it would feel like talons raking across exposed flesh.

Today's encounter would be nothing more than a blur.

With another pull, the Darkseeker's gaze fell upon the man's face; his features remained neutral. Beneath the cool exterior, disdain for their kind seethed. They, who had been fed with silver spoons in their mouths, lacked understanding of true hardship. Yet, they claimed to be champions of peace, often lying even to themselves about their true ambitions.

But this one, this rare gem among their pampered masses, might have been one of the few Jedi he had ever encountered that understood suffering.

<<I offer you a bridge.. whether you cross it is entirely up to you. Step forward, or spend the rest of your days drowning in the abyss.>

Should he linger behind and decide to wallow in his own pity, the story would remain the same. Memory upon memory, Virginia would be conjured in dances of passion and ruin under Kasir's cold touch, divinely fulfilled by every trial, her beauty but mere fuel for conquest.

And as if on cue, another of Wonosa's followers suddenly entered the chamber. "The enemy forces draw near.”

The Darkseeker offered a simple nod in the dim light, nothing more than acknowledgment of what he had anticipated from the very beginning.

The diversion had given them the exact amount of time needed. It was almost as if the High Priest had been watching all along with a hidden eye.

With a more delicate motion, he placed the golden hilt on the table beside him.

A final offering had yet to be given. <<It would be low, even for one such as me, to not leave you with my name-- Kasir. But this is not a goodbye, rather, a prelude to what awaits you. You've carried the Dark within for a long time, but you choose to cling to the Light as if it hasn't betrayed you time after time. When we cross paths again, I will take you somewhere it can't reach.>>

Shadows stretched all the way to the Vezioti Troop Transport waiting just outside the fortress, ready to carry them to their rendezvous with Darth Strosius.

-Exit post-​