The Hand that Mocked them (Abyss and Allies vs. TRE)

[Ariealla Vareldi]

Location: The Tainted City

What could be more delicious than a sip of fine red wine amongst good company? Well, there were many a thing, but it was far from an unpleasant task. Especially when the bottle was one of her, custom make. The woman had spent far too long alone this day, and had need to relax. So with her violet hood up, she chose only the finest of taverns to take the first of her drinks in. She smiled to the tender, as she approached with a Crimson wine in her hands. She had been planing this for some time, a call, a signal.

And how beautiful it would be. The tavern full of Resurgent Empire troops, officers, and the occasional loyalist was only too delighted to be bought a round of the taverns "finest stock" by her. Drinks were served at once in special cups, only the finest for such high pay after all. And Ariealla's was the toast to permit the first sip.

"Gentlemen, friends, a toast to victories, those of today and tomorrow. May our fortunes ever grow until the final days.." Hers was the sole glass to be filled with the blood red wine, the only one not drinking the stock. And as they all took the first drink, it became apparent. Whilst Ariealla's drink held faint, metallic taste that delighted her tongue, the others soon began to choke, Gasping for air as they dropped one, by, one.

Finishing her drink, she sighed in relief, glancing to the bodies slumped all around her. Their songs were so short, she simply had to find the next instruments to play. She tossed a few credits to the tender with a sly smile. "Seems some just can't hold their drink. Such a tragedy."

And that, she left to find the next victims, leaving behind a singular note. At the behest of Abyss, not quite her style, but far be it from her to deny him. The small not, which read...

The Prophet's hand is endless.


[member="Soeht"] [member="Thraxis"] [member="Darth Ophidia"] [member="The Slave"] [member="Serenity Loveheart"] [member="Blake Morrigan"] [member="Veritas"] [member="Vrak Nashar"] [member="Dravis Rosilla"] [member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Natalie LaForte]

Allies: [member="Darth Ophidia"], [member="Thraxis"], [member="Blake Morrigan"], [member="Dravis Rosilla], [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] (Those not replying removed)
Neutral: [member="Soeht"] (?)
Enemies: The Resurgent Empire, [member="Vrak Nashar"], [member="Veritas"]
Equipment:
On person: Dreamcrusher 2.0, Dreamcatcher, Lightsaber, Communication Ring
Other: 20 Z2-MCDs, various members of the Sorority for Liberty, each armed with makeshift weapons, some with copious amounts of Vitae Booster, Carina LaForte

A hand found its way to her left shoulder as the madness unfolded before her.

"Serenity, this is really getting out of hand. Are you sure you want to do this?"

No response.

"Serenity!"

"What? I heard you the first time and the silence should've been an indication that everything is going according to plan. The white armour guys are still yet to show up. You worry far too much, what is a few thousand when your business expands for it?"

"Have you gone crazy?"

No response. At least from Serenity. The Empire's troops were now beginning to make their way on the scene, at first, it was a few backup units but shortly it became scouting bikes, to armoured vehicles and now to aerial vehicles shining spotlights on the rather large crowds that were now rioting and attempting to break free from the market.

"See? Now I believe it is time for us to make our escape." Smiling and turning around before knocking directly into a first order officer. A sigh escaped her mouth again.

"Lieutenant Archebald Grimsely. You're being detained under suspicions of crimes against the empire."

Immediately, he had 4 makeshift slugthrowers point at him. Serenity saw this as an opportunity though. She reached for the guns and began preaching. "Stop at once! Those who live by the sword die by the sword! If we wish to make these barbarians see the errors of their ways, we must not stoop to their level!" A confused look passed the grunt's face, but as he had great trust for Serenity, he abided by her orders. And so did the rest.

This charade would only continue for so long though. One by one, the once salespeople were now being thrust against the very van that was containing their weapons. Though the Empire's troops didn't know what was being schemed against them; cut the supplier and the addict will come running for more. The drug was designed to be so highly addicted that the dosages administered to the crowd would be enough to make them crave it within 5 minutes time. Their backup would come, even if it wasn't from an organised force.

 

[Soeht]

[acronym="I͡'̵m ąl͠rea̸dy̶ speak͞ing̕.͡"]A gust[/acronym] followed after [member="Darth Abyss"] spoke.

The wind came not from above, but from an alley. From the street Abyss stood, it stretch for a few meters before turning right. At the corner of this turn stood a figure staring at Abyss.

It turned away and walked further into the alley - away from Abyss.

 

[Vrak Nashar]

The Tyrant
Malachor V

The Tyrant dropped out of hyperspace with a sudden rushing surge.

The ship didn't so much as jump as simply fell. It appeared in Orbit as suddenly as one might have expected an explosion. The surge of the ship was sudden enough to cause a panic within the government of Malachor. Dozens of messages began to float around. Ministers, officials, and everyone who could tried to cover up what had been going on. They tried to hide their failures from Lord Nashar, seeking to obfuscate what had happened on the surface before anyone could even say a thing.

"Get me the Governor." Vrak stated to a nearby lieutenant.

Much had occurred on the planet, and he doubted that such things could be easily reverse. "Deploy the Legions."

Malachor was going through a season of unrest. Whether Civil or Military, Vrak didn't particularly care. Though they had not begun an insurgency he would not allow this to grow into complete and utter disobedience. They were an Empire, not a Republic, not a Democracy. There was no choice within their worlds, there was no arguing, and there certainly weren't 'rights' that one could clamor and call for. The Pureblood scowled, rising from his meditation pad.

"Arrest dissidents." He stated plainly. "Execute their leaders, and call in the fleet."

He would subjugate this world, and burn it if they continued to disobey.

 

[Caid Centurion]

Hermes
Approaching Malachor V Trade Station

Veritas stood silently in the hangar bay of the mammoth civilian transport. They had arrived a few minutes behind the Tyrant and ahead of the local system authority initiating steps to completely secure space traffic over the slag of a planet.

"Master," came the voice of one of his Massassi Captains in the ancient dialect of the Massassi. A privilege that their new Lord and Master permitted - though Veritas communicated with them in the slightly more refined Sith language.

Veritas did not bother to turn his masked face in the direction of the Massassi. "I know. Lord Nashar has already arrived. No doubt the Legions will soon be planetside." Exhaling slowly, Veritas issued a simple instruction. "Instruct the others to board the civilian craft."

"As you command, Master."

"Oh and Captain?" Slowly, Veritas turned his head to regard the large, hulking Massassi. "You and your unit will accompany me to the Spheres of Ash. Send the rest to board the merchant vessels destined for the Tainted City." Veritas waved a dismissive hand, indicating he did not require a response.

He merely required action.

[member="Vrak Nashar"] | [member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

Malachor, The Tainted City - Following [member="Soeht"]

Hopefully Abyss would never get so far away from this physical plane he had bound himself to with his armor to lose the ability to communicate on a direct, much more simple level. For now he would play the game of the entity. The metal figure, shrouded in a black, ragged robe followed behind, and again he called upon the force to "talk." This time it would feel like unseen hands reaching for it, trying to pull it into the endless void of darkness that was Abyss.
-----------------------------------------

The arrival of the Tyrant brought chaos to Malachor. Exactly like Abyss had expected. Without a strong leader on top they had been slow to respond and fairly disorganized, but now the unrest was broken with an iron fist. Soldiers marched through the streets, protests and rallies ended before they even started and hundreds of people ended up under the arrest of the Resurgent forces. Some that were unlucky enough to be seen as leaders even found death by the hand of the enemy. Yet those that truly knew what was going on, those that really could be seen as leaders here on Malachor remained unseen, hidden in the shadows as it had been since the first of the free cities rose out of the ashes of the dead world. The war had begun.

-------------------------------------
Malachor, The Tainted City - Near TRE Headquaters.

"I am one with the darkness."

All along the way Abyss had repeated his own personal mantra, his focus channeled onto one single goal. His comm was turned off for the moment, there was no room for mistakes, no room for talks and distractions until the communication of the enemy was cut. From a nearby rooftop the hooded figure looked down at the back of the structure. There was the entrance into the ventilation system, but as it had to be expected the headquarter was guarded heavily, and even his near perfect stealth wouldn't allow him to open it up without alerting these guards. It was time to show what it truly was what he could do.

The metal figure descend to the ground, hidden behind a small wall on the rooftop, his mind ready to wander. Glory had shown him the plans of the system, so all he had to do now was to get a feeling for the distance he had to move in real time. Legs crossed in a meditative stance the sith remained perfectly motionless, a tome attached to his belt with a small metal chain slowly ascending into the air, hovering slightly below his head. The pages turned by themselves, finally revealing a strange rune structure. A metal hand touched the mix of blood and ink, while words where spoken in the language of the ancient sith.

"Nie mekn, tik toka ir vazona" ("No man, only smoke and mirrors")

Every time the spell repeated the echo around his voice became brighter, more distorted and twisted while dark energy began to swell inside the hollow armor. In his mind he could see the path he had to take to get where he wanted to, fifteen seconds passing by in which the words lost their structure, becoming a stream of sounds that wasn't much more than otherworldly noise that filled the air.

Suddenly the metal shell dissolved, steel and darkness reformed into disembodied smoke. The smoke rose over the rooftop, being sucked into the ventilation system as it descended down towards the base of his enemy. Meter for meter the thick mist danced through the small shaft, until the metal body once more took from, right in front of the exit that would lead into the communication center.
--------------------------
The Tainted City, Below the City

Walking through the waste created by a full city wasn't a very enjoyable task. Not that anyone of strike team Pedanu'ija would complain, but both the members of the Inner Eye and the Legion had done some more glorious jobs during the days of the Prophet. Two of Abyss elite agents had taken the lead, making their way through the sewers towards the position they determined as the most effective point of entrance. The goons behind the carried bags on their backs, each of them filled with small scale demolitions to blast holes into the headquarter from below. While the goons only carried light weaponry besides that, the two elites carried a new creation of the Prophet's never stopping network of black market tinkerers and engineers, the Ghostmaker Acid launcher. Deadly in close quarters.

---------------------------------
Malachor, The Tainted City - Red Light District

Strike team Sethi had the simplest job of all involved in the plan. In the end it boiled down to: "Make some noise, kill a few empire soldiers, and take their uniforms." So that was exactly what was going on in the Red Light District right. With banners of evolution in hand a small portion of the strike team began a march through the streets, constantly chanting any insult they could think up about the empire.

The soldiers of the empire were better armed and trained, but the Tainted Legion knew their cities better than anyone else, and they had fought many battles in the wild outskirts of the Tainted City already. Hidden in abandoned backyards, alleyways and houses the rest of the strike team got ready. The second the enemy would try to stop their friends in their attempt of "rebellion" they would swarm the streets and leave a lot of blood there.

[member="Veritas"] [member="Vrak Nashar"] [member="Darth Mara"] [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] [member="Thraxis"] [member="Darth Ophidia"] [member="Blake Morrigan"] [member="Dravis Rosilla"]

 

[Soeht]

Abyss followed, which would have lead him to the corner that the being went behind. Once Abyss turned the corner, the being he followed would have been standing just feet away

It was male figure. A man known as Solkyk - not Soeht. His height was a couple inches below [member="Darth Abyss"].

Solkyk took a single step forward. His right hand moved up and extended an index finger toward what would be Abyss's head.

Solkyk told Abyss, "From my Master: Point at the [acronym="And you will know them"]words[/acronym]."

The nonsensical sentence carried the dark side of the Force. There was more said than what could be heard.

 

[Ras'kala'han]

[retconned, Antherion was never here]

 

[Nichtmehr]

Malachor, Firewall

Many believed the Emissary to be just another bounty hunter, another hound in service of the Prophet, a droid with a quite ironic name for a hitman for hire. Yet that was far from the truth. He had been named Emissary of the Prophet not for his quite high precision with long range rifles, even if it had been a factor Abyss had considered, but for his extremely firm and polite demeanour. The mind of a diplomat inside the body of an elite warrior, tasked with the more complex negotiations the shadowy ruler of Malachor had to execute to stay on top of his own game. Emissary himself had neither much love nor much hate for the sith. On one hand he had personally witnessed how cruel and corrupted the thing in a black robe was, but on the other he had seen the city of firewall, the city of free droids under the eternal protection of their dark guardian. Abyss was a deranged, twisted being, but his darkness did not discriminate against droids or the other outcasts that had gathered in these flourishing shadow societies.

This time he had a quite delicate task given by his employer, to forge a fragile alliance with an old foe, at least in case that old foe still resided on the Prophet's world. It was not only the most important mission he had ever been given, but one with an almost ridiculous amount of diplomatic leverage to make sure the deal would actually come into place. During the rise of chaos and unrest he had used his time searching for clues, but he found little. The man he was searching for was invisible as much as the Prophet, and the few things he learned only told him that he had a thing for tight surveillance. Why the man and the Prophet didn't got along was a mystery to him.

The easiest way to contact someone who wanted to stay unseen while seeing everything was to lure them. In this case the lure was a heavily encrypted message, send through both holo and cryptnet over Malachors network. Hard but not impossible to decrypt, a video would play once the message was revealed, showing a recording of the droid.

"Greetings Lord [member="Antherion"]. I am the Emissary, and I speak with the Prophet's voice."

There was a change in the voice, the droid switching between his own and a recording of Abyss voice mid conversation.

"Hello old foe. I hope Malachor's darkness becomes you well. If you hear this it means that it has already begun, and that, despite our conflicts, I request your assistance. My emissary will fill you in on the details, but for now know this: A enemy is not a true believer hidden in the shadows, but a heretic sitting on his high throne."

The voice switched back, the single glowing eye in the droid's face flickering for a short moment before he continued.

"The Prophet does not ask for your assistance without something to offer in return. Before the invasion the chorus began with terraforming a small piece of land at the edges of Free City Territory. I was allowed to promise you free reign of this area, should you join the effort to free Malachor from its oppressors. Meet me to discuss further details. The Prophet sends his regards."

------------------
Malachor, The Tainted City - Red Light District, Outer Border

The message would end with a nav point, leading to an abandoned building at the other edge of Malachor's capital. On a rooftop the Emissary waited, sniper rifle aimed at the ground. He had no intention to kill or harm his target, but his employer had been very clear on how dangerous this man was.

 

[Caid Centurion]

Spheres of Ash

Caid's vessel settled casually onto the center of the upper levels of the Sphere of Ash's grand walkway. Beings of all races scurried out of the way of the downwash from the repulsorlifts of Caid's transport, and there were more than a few that took time out of their pointless lives to hurl obscenities at the merchant-marked vessel. Once the loading ramp had extended, Massassi began filing down on to the glittering walkway. The hulking beasts stood in stark contrast to the decadence that surrounded them, but they did not care. With military precision, they split into groups of six. Each group began a swift progress towards each of the key locations of the Upper City.

The cloaked figure of Caid Centurion was the last to exit. Despite his size, he looked small compared to the Massassi that had preceded him down the ramp. The shallow rise and fall of Caid's chest accompanied the mechanical sound of air filtering between the breathers in his mask.

"Who the hell do you think you are!? You could have ki---"

The woman's voice was cut short as Caid compressed the strength of the Force inward on the woman's trachea. The Sith made the woman to suffer for but a few seconds before he simply snapped her neck. "Killed you. Yes. A reality that has apparently been forgotten here..." The words were heard by a handful standing near, but Caid had not directed them at any one in particular.

Not yet.

[member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

The Tyrant
Malachor V

Vrak's gaze slowly fell upon the scriptures of the message, his face impassive.

The argument that was presented by [member="Antherion"] was one that he had already taken into account, and in truth he had been leaning in that direction from the moment he'd heard of the troubles here. There were a dozen worlds within the Empire, more now that they were steadily growing their base of power. Malachor? Malachor was but a blip. It was an afterthought for many people.

Thousands of years ago this world had been something, it had been the remnant of the Triumvirate, and before that it had been the sight of a genocide so vast it had rocked the galaxy. Yet not it was little more than an afterthought for many people in the galaxy. The Pureblood turned slightly, glancing out the viewport of the Tyrant and staring at the broken world below. His lips were thin as a dozen considerations ran through his mind. The Red Guard behind him seemed impassive, though he could sense the eagerness coming from them.

The Sith Lord paused, then turned to his Lieutenant. "Perhaps this world requires more than a reminder."

Rebellion would not be tolerated.

The People of Malachor were forgetting who they were dealing with, what they were dealing with. Civil Disobedience, protests, it was all well and good against a government that cared, but the Empire? To the Empire everyone on the world below was little more than commodities. They were here to provide a service, they were here to provide labor, manpower, and everything else that the Empire required of them. Refusal was not meant with a kind hand and capitulation.

It was met with eradication.

"Set up a broadcast." He told the Lieutenant. "Every screen. Every home."

The people of Malachor would be warned, and if they didn't listen they would be eradicated.

 

[Darth Abyss]

Malachor, The Tainted City - TRE HQ

tzzzzzzz

The sound was almost silent, as the gas mines placed carefully by Abyss began to release their tasteless, invisible and absolutely lethal payload into the commutation center of the headquarter. He had remained in the ventilation system, looking for the perfect angle. Roughly 50 people had gathered in the room, some trying their best to make sure that their empire stayed on top over the wild masses of Malachor, others trying to cover up their failures of the past before their leader would notice.

Now it was a game of seconds. Not everyone would fall victim to the gas at the same rate, so he had to wait for the perfect moment to strike, making sure that the news of the attack never left this room. The first of them already started to breath heavily, but no one had caught on it it yet. Another moment passed.

There it was, the first member of the Empire was taken by a silent, crippling weakness and dropped from his chair. Another stood up to help him, only to follow him onto the ground. Panic took hold, but before one of the reached a terminal the entrance of the ventilation shaft was blasted open, the metal grid knocking out a nearby soldier.

The dark, twisted figure of Abyss descended down into the room, men and women all around him finding their end at the hand of the deadly gas. Slowly the sith made his way through the dying, the claws on his hands extended to bring an end to everyone still struggling to stand. One of the last alive members managed to raise his weapon, only to be meet by the Mindeaters might. The metal hand pointed at the man, and through the darkness his mind was devoured until there was nothing left.

When all were dead, a matter of merely two minutes, Abyss walked up to the closest terminal. He was no slicer, but that was why he always had his A.I. with him. From his robe he reached for a small black box, attaching the device with said terminal. Only second later the system jumped to life, as Glory began to do what she was best at.

"The location of the Governor is our priority once commutations are cut."

Crimson light came to life in Abyss right, as the sith lord stood ready for those that would soon come to repair their communication. All they would find would be a quick, cruel and meaningless death.
------------------------------

Malachor, The Tainted City - Below TRE HQ

Beeeeeep

There was the signal. The two looks of the agents of the Inner Eye locked for a second, then a short nod was shared. In perfect synchronicity each man pressed a button on their comm, and in perfect synchronicity the carefully placed explosives were triggered.

When the smoke cleared out only holes were left in the ground of the empire's headquarter, leading into the main quarters, the mess hall and a large restroom. Again not the most glorious of actions, but certainly the places were soldiers were the least prepared for an attack.

In a wild furry the Tainted legion climbed into the building, guns blazing and their final screams of revolution and freedom echoing over the sounds of blaster bolts and dropping corpses. The Inner eye entered directly behind them, making deadly use of their new toys.

Wherever the ghostmaker caught a target not much more then red, disgusting mesh was left on the ground, as their enemies were dissolved by the corrosive, focused streams of gas, including their clothes, armor and arms. The end had begun.
---------------------------

Malachor, The Tainted City - TRE HQ Back entrance

Tap Tap Tap Tap

The fight had been quick, bloody and victorious. Strike team Sethi had suffered heavy looses, but in the end their plan had been successful. Now the roughly 80 soldiers had made their way to HQ, all of them wearing a collection of bandages and blood stained uniforms claimed from the enemy.

With a salute the leader greeted the guard on the back entrance, while simultaneously supporting a injured friend with his free hand. Yes many of them had taken hits during the initial engagement, but instead of seeing it as a drawback they decided to make it their advantage. Exactly like the Prophet had taught them.

"We had a run in with an heavily armed rebel force in the outskirts. Many are in need of immediate medical attention."

Any good security would ask them for authentication, which they didn't had. Yet if every piece would fall into its place chaos would take over the headquarter the second that would happen, giving them a chance to slip in unseen.

[member="Caid Centurion"] [member="Vrak Nashar"] [member="Darth Mara"] [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] [member="Thraxis"] [member="Blake Morrigan"] [member="Darth Ophidia"] [member="Dravis Rosilla"] [member="Antherion"]

 

[Thraxis]

Allies: The cacophony of allies Abyss Brought with him
Enemies: The Resurgent Empire
Location: Sphere's of Ash
Loadout:
- Equipped: Cruciatus Blade | Tazi Executioner Armour | Phantasm Cloak | Saber Vambrace | Some Ring he found
- In Duffel bag: Thraxis Pistolas | Jack Knife | Heavy Blaster Pistols
For a while he stood there, wondering if his offer was to be taken only to be met with narry a word. "Jeez, aren't we just the archetypical silent type." He mumbled as he walked past, his features twisted and disgruntled. He always got that with villains these days, dark, brooding and sucking the fun out of the word murder. Though there was always the opposite end, the trigger-happy lot who were the reason restraint was in so many pages of his dictionary. He slowly emerged from the darkness, the choir of riots and rebellion seizing the streets as torches were turned darkness bright, makeshift tools raised in the sky as he saw the walls getting pushed and pounded, their cries of defiance met with silence for a time.

As he emerged he made it a point to fill up their ranks, their cries and echoes met with his own as he joined in the sea of cacophony and war, venom filled veins as the man who 'helped' their ranks was brutally murdered and left a beaten pulp for the masses to gawk at. Good thing this lot never looked around corners, or at least not since the last group of brave souls dared venture into the grasp of Death. He moved and swayed, his visage sticking out like a sore thumb as he heard the subtle cocking of guns, the loading of blasters and the sound of fist against stone walls risen high. Soon it would break out, their spirits broken and he left the bulwark of sanity to keep the spirit burnt as the last puffs of oxygen were snuffed out.

He walked amongst their ranks no more than a hermit, a madman and prophet for the hand and in a few short minutes he would soon become his Phoenix, the risen from Death in his unholy name. He propped himself up on a catalyst fospeech spech, a slightly raised stage of stone and wood barely strung together from what meager resources he could manage as his legs crossed, the last few moments of silence before the storm as they reigned in war and death at the walls, the most microscopic of cracks formed as over the walls and down the ramp they descended, a verifiable armed militia of The Resurgent Empire slowly descended down as the people backed a little, severely out gunned and out manned as the leader came down, his attire drenched in fancy attire, signaling himself out as leader of this little Rebellion Squasher.

Thraxis twisted into a smile as he began to make orders, cease and desist wanting the leaders to come fourth. A few people pushed and shoved the most forefront rebels, signalled out as he drew a pistol from his holster, a single curse uttered as a body caved in, legs bending spine snapped and the first Rebel leader fell to the ground as a wicked utterance broke through the ranks, "Death." He muttered through a speaker, his words amplified through tricks and magic. But more trickery, a few speakers set on the ground made his voice seem as if it rose from beneath their feet as he pulled himself up, guns aimed as he in jagged motions as if a corpse risen from the ground stood at attention. His neck twisted and turned at odd angles as every move a flourish. "Is but an Illusion." His cold words spoke in a familiar tone as they began to pipe up, guns aimed at his body as he turned to the Commander, a single Small pistol in hand as he let loose a covetous cackle. "For those loyal to the Hand, we shall rise from our graves people of Ash. For it is destruction, that we were born and destruction we shall rise." His every word and echoing coo, a channel of power and rejuvenation as he depressed the trigger the sound of a cocking bullet whizzing through the air before a spray of sanguine rose from the air and dropped back down, his uniform ruined as he looked around at the people.

Then came the barrage, a torrent of light coated his body as he stood firm, his limbs bouncing backwards from the constant onslaught that reigned in for a few minutes, his limbs twitching from the light show before bending back straight, a hand running along the top of his helmet before speaking once more. "Do you see. As long as you believe in the Prophet with every drop of blood. We. Cannot. Die." He chuckled as he raised an arm to the sky, the light shining off his Black armour before he spoke his final words, the words to coo fourth the people of the Spheres to make haste. "Let us show them what we mean. Charge!" He screamed, his every word echoing through the sirens all about as broke out a scream and choir of discord and chaos, charging up the ramp to freedom, to war and most importantly. To their deaths.
[member="Caid Centurion"] | [member="Vrak Nashar"] | [member="Darth Mara"] | [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Blake Morrigan"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Dravis Rosilla"] | [member="Antherion"]

 

[Caid Centurion]

Location: Spheres of Ash
[member="Thraxis"] | [member="Vrak Nashar"]

Caid turned slowly to regard the sprawling upper levels of the Spheres of Ash from the Pantheon. The location had been cleared of civilians without any issue. The rich and corpulent that adorned this area were not so bold as to actually offer resistance to a Massassi wordlessly ushering them away by grabbing their arm with such force that it was nearly pulled from the socket. The six Massassi now stood motionless at the base of the Pantheon. From his vantage point, Caid could see that similar groups had moved into position at the other major points of the Sphere's upper district.

For the moment, their orders were simple. They were to be a presence, a challenge. Caid wanted to see someone elect to make a dumb decision. Through the communications equipment in his helmet, he could plainly hear reports arriving of growing unrest in certain other areas. A separate force of the Massassi that had traveled with him were arriving in the Tainted City.

For now, the Sith mostly ignored the status updates. The chanting and superfluous actions of the poor and destitute didn't concern him at the moment. In time though...they too would be swept up into that which was about to come.

 

[Vrak Nashar]

The Tyrant
Malachor V

Vrak stood idly on the bridge of The Tyrant as he waited for the communications link up. His face was impassive, and his body language showed more than a little tedium. He found all of this...repetitive, boring. Malachor hardly seemed worth the effort in truth, and he much rather would have obliterated all thought of this world.

The only thing that stayed his hand was the idea of chastisement from the Council.

Unfortunately for the Pureblood he was not an Emperor. He did not hold supreme power within the government and thus his hand was still restrained. Malachor survived on this day yet simply because Vrak could not just do as he pleased. It was a thought that annoyed him greatly, and something that he would have to address eventually. He frowned for a moment, glancing towards the communications bay on the Star Destroyer. The woman there was working quickly, and then finally she turned.

There was a slow nod to the lieutenant at Vrak's side, and then the man whispered in The Sith Lord's ear.

"We're ready, My Lord."

Finally.

"Begin." The message would be a simple one, and as Vrak stepped onto the small pad that would record his voice and image he already knew exactly what words he would give to the people of Malachor.

"Malachor." His voice would boom on every screen, every broadcast station, everywhere. "I understand your unrest. I understand your displeasure. I understand your resistance."

His head turned slightly, the image on the screen almost appearing to stare at those that watched. "I don't care. The Empire doesn't care. You are not free. You will not be granted freedom. You are a tiny cog in the machine of the Empire. A small piece that we could do without."

"We are not the Republic. We are not the Galactic Alliance. We are the Empire that rules you." Vrak's voice was cold.

"Return to your homes. Repent." His displeasure was clear. "Or I will once again reduce this world to ash."

The threat was clear. The Imperial Fleet was only minutes away, and even without them Vrak had more than enough firepower aboard the Tyrant to reduce Malachor back to the taste it had been in only a few years ago. "You will not be remembered. You will not be martyred. You will simply be erased."

With that the transmission ceased.

 

[Darth Abyss]

Malachor, The Tainted City - TRE HQ

It took only two minutes until the lack of communication in and out of the headquarter was noticed by the soldiers stationed there. Another minute was used to gather a quick response team, fifteen well trained, experienced and heavily armed men tasked with finding and eliminating whatever had infiltrated their communication center. Abyss felt them before they even entered into the room. Suddenly there was the sound, the door to the room where the Sith lord had been waiting bursting open, two thrown smoke grenades following right after.

Against many this sort of tactic would have been highly effective, but the soldiers lacked one vital piece of information that reduced their chances to almost zero. Their helmets were searched for his heat signature, only to learn that he truly was as hollow as he said. Through smoke and confusion he moved like a ghost, the sound of slit throats, dropping bodies and misfired blaster bolts hanging in the air.

When the smoke cleared only one figure still stood, the Prophet. In his right rested a twisted blue knife, while the metal figure walked through the corpses with disdain. Before reaching the terminal to which he had attached his A.I. he bend down, wiping of the blood on his weapon on the clothes of the nearest dead man.

"Glory?"

The Screen before him came to life without any action taken by him, the avatar of the A.I. appearing on it. It wasn't the face of victory he had expected to see, instead a mix of confusion and worry. There was a short moment of silence, before she spoke, followed by the message send by [member="Vrak Nashar"].

"I got the position of the Governor, but there is something you need to hear. The Empire has send Malachor a message."

With every second the voice of the pure blood spoke to him from the speakers the mood of the Mindeater turned darker, a cold, obsessive rage slowly rising inside of the empty husk. This fool wanted a war, and he would get one, one he and his petty empire would never win. That or he would prove the prejudices over his species true, and fall for his last play while Glory was relaying the Intel on the governor to his allies. Someone would take care of that problem as well.

"Glory, record. The people of Malachor have earned themselves an answer."

The metal husk stepped on the nearest holocommunicator, making sure that everyone that heard his message would know who he was. By sending it through the Empires frequencies he could show both his people and the enemy who was still running things on Malachor.

"People of Malachor, once more I have decided to speak to you directly so you know that I did not abandon you."

It was the second time that Abyss spoke as the Prophet of Malachor official, the last time had been during the initial conflict against the resurgent empire. His voice alone was enough to embrace resistance in his people, if needed until only death and ash was left.

"Our enemy thinks he can make us fear him, that his petty threats are enough to bring us to our knees. I think he greatly underestimates our strength, our will to survive despite the odds. Malachor was never a part of their brittle empire, and it never will it become one. Scatter, leave the cities, hide and wait for my command. Long live Malachor."

He had little worry about the bombardment of his world. The Resurgent empire was caught between the Silver jedi and the Dominion, and while they certainly had enough firepower available to destroy his cities, the lacked the numbers and time for a fully scale bombing campaign to draw out his forces once they began to hide in the depths of the tunnels and caves running below the surface. Their cities was a little sacrifice, as before they would simply build something out of nothing.

"Now to you, Lord Nashar or whoever else was speaking. Honestly you reds all sound the same to me."

The words were followed by a mocking laugh, a twisted sound as inhuman as the being that had released it. He had heard about a sith called Vrak Nashar that had a lot of pull inside the empire, but he could not be certain that he was the one that opposed him. Yet that little impact on his words. Purebloods normally were quite easy to be angered and insulted by petty words, simply because they foolish believed themselves to be superior.

"We can draw this out for days, for weeks, maybe even years, waste men and resources but we both know that there is only one true way to end this. If there is even one drop of sith in your veins then meet me below the spires. Tsis driait tsis dias oi tuti tsosûtijitsia. Ri Dujozi waria natsiji Malachor ai wuts." (Sith against sith as it is tradition. The Winner will decide Malachor's fate)

He ended his challenge in the language of the sith, not the common version he normally liked to use, but the less raw High sith preferred by the Purebloods. A last insult to make sure that everything would happen as he planned.
------------------------------

Malachor, The Tainted City - Below the Spires

"Glory, lights out."

The bright synthetic light spend by the spires suddenly faded, the scenery around him caught in the uncanny twilight that had ruled Malachor before the Prophet made the corpse of a world rise from the dead. His metal figure, shrouded in a black, quite ragged robe which danced in the slight wind, silver and black illuminated in the dim and ghostly green of his world's half faded sun.

His hood was pulled back, the small crown, not much more than sharp metal pieces and crystal shards forced together, on his head clearly visible. On his belt rested the hilt of his saber and his spellbook, the only weapons he carried openly. The fixed teeth below his wooden, tainted mask remained perfectly motionless in their dead grin, while the sith lord stood idle, waiting for his opponent to arrive.

[member="Caid Centurion"] [member="Thraxis"] [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] [member="Darth Mara"] [member="Antherion"] [member="Darth Ophidia"] [member="Dravis Rosilla"]

 

[Caid Centurion]

Location: Spheres of Ash
[member="Thraxis"] | [member="Vrak Nashar"] | [member="Darth Abyss"]

"Incoming priority transmission."

The audible announcement caused Caid to divert his attention from the almost immobilized crowds, transfixed on the sight of Massassi sweeping through the area. Withdrawing a datapad from his pocket, he keyed in a quick access code. In seconds, the image of Vrak Nashar came to life. An identical image was displayed on the many holoscreens scattered around the upper level of the Spheres of Ash.

From behind the material of his featureless black mask, Caid smiled thinly. Slowly, his eyes tracked from the datapad to the crowds just beyond his location. Massassi dropped instinctively into more aggressive stances, feeling the emotion that Caid allowed to pass across their mental connection. They were, for all intents and purposes, the embodiment of the Sith's will.

As Nashar's message to the people of Malachor concluded, Caid inhaled slowly before speaking a command across the void of the Force to all of his Massassi within the Spheres of Ash and the Tainted City.

Prepare.

The raucous sounds of roaring Massassi could be heard across the area as they clashed their hulking weapons against the ground at the singular command of their master.

Caid's attention diverted once more as a new voice took over the screens on the main avenues of the Spheres of Ash. Slowly, the Sith stowed his datapad. The more the entity spoke, the more Caid's smile grew behind his mask. Eventually, the foolish ultimatum was over. By the time it had conclude, a deep, slow laughter rolled forth from Caid's body. He did not know the man or...whatever, but they obviously held on to some rather ridiculous notion. Perhaps he thought the Empire cared about this planet or its people. The simple reality was...they did not. If every single life on the surface of Malachor was snuffed out, neither the Dark Council nor it's supporters would care.

More importantly. It was incredibly doubtful any on the planet would be so reckless with their own lives as the unnamed entity apparently thought to be. Prophets tended to be forgotten wholesale when all they had the power to promise was death to their followers.

Well. Except for those that were happy to die. In which case. C'est la vie.

Stepping down the steps of the Pantheon, Caid arrived back on the main concourse of the Spheres of Ash. When he spoke, his voice was elevated by the Force. "Your fate was just sealed," was the only statement he made. The moment it had been made, the hulking Massassi bolted into action. In seconds, the cacophony of shrieking screams and obscenities drowned out the sound of Massassi ripping through the crowds. It would be localized to the so-called 'elite' on the upper levels of the Spheres of Ash. For now. Many attempted to flee as Caid walked casually towards the transport. As he did, he spoke silently to the Massassi that had been sent to the Tainted City.

Proceed to the outskirts. If any attempt to flee, kill them. I will be with you soon.

The people of Malachor would undoubtedly say terrible things about the Empire. They would say they were butchers, that they lacked compassion, that they turned on the people the moment it suited their purpose.

Those people would be right. The Resurgent Empire was an Empire for Sith first and foremost. The rest were only as necessary as their worth. Disloyalty was not worth anything.

 

[Neesa]

[member="Caid Centurion"] [member="Darth Abyss"] [member="Vrak Nashar"]

Outskirts of tainted city

The glass bottle shattered on the street. Its momentum carried the shards of glass forwards and they came to rest at the feet of the legion soldier at the centre of the line. They were stretched thin in this sector.

Buoyed by the act of defiance the mob shuffled towards them. The sergeant in the centre called out once more: "return to your homes...now."

His warning was met by a cacophony of angry shouts. Someone had whipped the crowd into a frenzy. A dark shape moved up behind the soldiers. With her cowl pulled low she appeared as nothing more than a child wrapped up against the chill air.

"How many warnings have they had?" Neesa asked. In contract to her appearance the soldiers moved aside deferentially.

"Three now?"

From within the cowl she rolled her eyes. "Do you think that's enough?" She asked. The soldier shrugged. She stepped out ahead of the soldier. There had to be several hundred citizens gathered.

Neesa raised one arm, an alabaster hand emerging. Slender fingers drew a delicate pattern than hung in the air. Thin, yellow lines of fire held in the air as she went until the symbol was complete. Those at the front of the crowd looked less confident. The most sensitive to the Force would feel the slow build of power.

Neesa pushed the palm of her hand through the pattern. A bright beam of yellow light erupted forwards. A brilliant cylinder a foot wide that carved through the centre of the crowd. The twilek front and centre in the crowd looked down to see that it had burned straight through them an instant before they died.

The screaming started as the crowd split in two around where the blast of raw energy had cut through everything in its path.

"Disperse them," she hissed. Give soldiers couldn't contain this many, but in smaller groups their confidence would evaporate and many would flee home. Blaster fire started in earnest and the screams replaced the previous sounds of the angry mob braying.

 

[Vrak Nashar]

The Tyrant
Malachor V

It was not a few minutes later that Vrak's shuttle breached the atmosphere. His face was impassive, and the way he carried himself spoke of an utter distaste for any and all of this.

To him, Malachor was little more than a thorn in the claw of a Krayt Dragon.

This world was nothing. It had been nothing for the last hundred Milleniia and it would return to nothing once he was done with this day. The Sith Lord stood, his hand looped through a small piece of cloth that hung from the ceiling. The Shuttle shook slightly, his gaze falling towards one of the viewports at the edge of the shuttle. From there he could already see the blaster firing sprouting everywhere, the rushing crowd as they attempted to escape Sith troops, his men closing around them.

A small twitch of a smile touched his lips.

The lights of the shuttle switched on as they approached the twilight of the spires, bright floruscents nearly burning as bright as the sun and illuminating the entire courtyard before him. Slowly the Shuttle reached the surface of the planet, it's great wings turning up and slowly folding in upon themselves as the vessel turned and landed on it's struts. Vrak waited for a moment, glancing towards the Two Red Guards who were standing by the door.

The men shifted slightly, pressing the small key on the console to begin lowering the ramp of the shuttle. There was a loud hiss and a release of c02 as the ramp lowered, touching the surface of Malachor and bringing a whiff of stale air to Vrak's nose. A scowl of disgust painted on his lips as he stepped forward, a bit of dust gently brushed from his sleeve as he stepped into the city. In the distance he could hear the sounds of scream and blaster fire echoing out, the bloody roars of raging Massassi ringing only a second later.

Vrak spotted a figure standing across the way, his face remaining impassive as he took a few steps away from the shuttles main ramp. "Ah the Prophet."

There was no lack of sarcasm in his tone.

"The apparent King who told his people to run into a wall of spikes and blaster fire, while waiting safely in an empty courtyard." He glanced around the Courtyard, his eyes floating over the stone features of the buildings. "How egalitarian."

 

[Darth Abyss]

Malachor, The Tainted City - Below the Spires

Once again they underestimated their enemy, how insultingly predictable. The sith troops began to clear the streets, making an effort to keep his people from escaping into safety. One thing they hadn't taken into account, despite how obvious it was. No one, not even Abyss himself knew those cities as well as the people that populated them. Firewall and the Spheres were linked to each other with an endless maze of tunnels, a network so large and complex that those that wandered them aimlessw quickly got lost to rot and die below the surface. The Tainted City did not have such luxury, but only a fool would believe that the home of criminals was without backdoors. Many would die because they picked the main streets, but many more would do as he had commanded and scatter throughout the wastelands.

"Petty words from a petty servant do not touch me. I am far beyond the comprehension of insects like you.'

The metal husk stood motionless, the words carried through the air like an otherworldly echo. [member="Vrak Nashar"] thought himself to be great, he walked and stood with the pride and arrogance only a pureblood could have. Slowly he clasped his claws behind his back, and began to walk towards his opponent. The whole movement looked casual, aiding the image of an outsider entity that was only slightly, if at all, concerned by this situation. Yet behind the unmoving face of Tainted wood and cursed steal a mind was constantly working, constantly monitoring his environment. Many thought that his all seeing eye started and ended with the future, because he was known as the Prophet, but in truth he could see far more than that. Force sight and an ancient spell of the Nightsisters that made sound become vision granted him full on 360 degree sight, an advantage many dead fools had underestimated or simply ignored in the first place.

"I give you one last chance to surrender. If you refuse we will learn how much pure blood can be spilled in one day."

There was a mocking laugh, while the sith Lord closed the distance between the two. The hands on his back began to work, a slight, almost unnoticeable motion. In a swift swipe of his right he pulled the pin of a gas grenade, filled with a smokescreen to obscure sight and a potent, tasteless neurotoxin, hidden on the backside of his belt. A few meters away from his adversary he stopped, offering the other sith a slight, and clearly sarcastic bow. Should Vrak decide to make the first move he would walk right into his trap. Would he remain idle Abyss had the chance to fade into the shadows, giving him the chance for a lethal first strike. Either way would turn out as his advantage.

[member="Neesa"] [member="Caid Centurion"]