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

[Ariealla Vareldi]

It took three cantinas more before violence erupted around the Songstress, finishing her bottle of red wine as the show got started. Fools in the streets, a slaughter, and the smart criminals hiding away to escape their gaze. It was exactly what they had wanted, chaos. The fools tried to crush spirits with force, something only the weak would falter to. Yes, a man could bend to one stronger, but to hold cities, planets, sectors, a more measured approach was necessary. She chuckled as she considered their failings as an empire, the fault in their methods, her violet regalia fluttering around her lightly as blaster fire and violence continued around her.

Yes.. they had learned well to wield the whip. But they knew not how to cultivate, to guide the people into desiring to serve. Fear was a useful tool, but in such quantities it only stewed rebellion. She had no doubt this would result in their utter failure, as people rose up against them in fear and hatred. Malachor was not unique in such a respect, the will of people could die but fear could soon backfire with ease. No, they must fear you, and yet desire your guiding hand. To make works to outlast one's self, both whip and gentle hands must be present.

As she stepped over another corpse, a soldier dared to try and stop her. She easily sidestepped his attempt to shoot, and she sent a bolt of lightning into his chest, sending him flying back in shock. No doubt other soldiers would be notified, by his scream over the comm system no doubt, but she welcomed the opportunity. She clucked her tongue as she wandered over the corpse, twisting his neck with a flick of her hand. Not a drop of blood on her, as befitted her.

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Some time later, she began to grow amused, grabbing one soldier with the force and casting him aside. She was not the strongest in the force, yet, but these soldiers were woefully ill prepared for someone of her refined skillset. Even without her original strength, she was plenty capable of tending to these so eager, violent individuals. Had they earned her mercy? Hardly, though it was nothing personal. She came to help her ally, and the exercise in violence certainly helped her in turn. She'd managed to slip by more soldiers than she should've, and broken one or two of their attempts to barricade the streets and contain the fleeing people. Did it help? She doubted it, but it amused the ancient, dark being.

Eventually she came to observe an interesting sight... a large cylinder of light that cut apart a crowd, how curious. She wandered closer, only to find herself staring directly at a woman in the middle of soldiers moving to disperse the crowd. She couldn't help but smile, now this was a change of pace. She calmly began to wander forward, her hands held behind her as the violet regalia's cape fluttered behind her. "Quite the display my dear. Pointless, but quite the show none the less.." One soldier attempted to turn their weapon on her, only to find his blaster had been sent flying away. The crowd that fled took the opportunity, slipping into cracks when they could, and some even lingered to observe the violet clad woman.

"However, such displays are only a momentary distraction, a fleeting delight. I must wonder now, are you the kind to hide in comfort behind their soldiers, until the very last, or are you capable of handling a single woman yourself?" Her words were mocking, of course, but bought her time to sense where each soldier was in relation to herself. She took a gamble, stepping into the open, but it wasn't as though she couldn't handle the fodder if she had to. On her hip rested her weapons, the sith blade, and her saberstaff. Both them, and her short body, radiated with darkness, betraying the fact she held more power than she let on.

[member="Neesa"] | [member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Ras'kala'han]

[retconned, Antherion was never here]

 

[Caid Centurion]

Tainted City Outskirts
[member="Neesa"] | [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Vrak Nashar"]

"Master. Citizens retreating through man-made tunnels."

Caid heard the call from the Massassi Captain supervising Caid's forces on the ground, relocating to the outskirts of the Tainted City. "Impact?"

"None, Master."

"Then ignore them and continue your directive."

"Never stopped, Master."

Caid said nothing further as the transport hit a pocket of strong turbulence on its way down to the mostly barren surface that marked the very fringes of the Tainted City. Really, Malachor was a pretty worthless slab of rock, desert, poor people, and, apparently, easily manipulated sycophants. Any person that thought they could escape to some type of safety from the Empire, on an Imperial world was beyond foolish. On a personal level, Caid did not care who managed to escape their death this day.

They would all die just the same.

Five minutes later, the shuttle touched down and Caid disembarked alone. A family of five were just starting to squeeze through a hole in the hastily developed Sith perimeter. As the shuttle departed the area, Caid stood motionless, watching them. Within ten seconds, they had spotted his cloaked figure on the horizon and quickly began trying to sprint to...well...pretty much nowhere.

Tilting his head, the Sith contemplated the curiosity of such a futile and moronic plan. Initiating a casual pace, Caid began walking in the direction of the family.

Ten steps.

Caid reached for the hilt of his lightsaber.

Ten more steps.

The silver blade of the weapon activated with a snap-hiss.

Another ten.

The Sith flung the activated weapon across the expanse, guiding its trajectory with the Force. The family attempted to duck and alter their running path.

A final ten steps and Caid came to a halt.

The blade sliced effortlessly through the mid-section of each member of the family. In moments, the weapon returned to his hand and Caid deactivated the blade.

 

[Neesa]

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

Outskirts of tainted city

Why was there always talking? Everyone always had a monologue to deliver or an ultimatum. When Neesa had a job to do that involved killed there was typically very little talking involved. For the time she ignored the newcomer.

"Inform the others we've found one of his supporters. Apparently I need to 'handle' this one so fall back, and continue with enforcing the curfew."

"Reports that some of their armed resistance have gone underground."

"Let them," Neesa replied. "We can gas then or seal them in with duracrete later. Post drones at any entrances you find to watch for them crawling back out of their nest."

Only then did Neesa turn towards the silver-haired challenger. With a shrug her robes was discarded and she drew Sorrow and Thirst.

"Was there anything else to say?" She asked sweetly. Her hawkish gaze turned towards one of the locals watching from an alleyway. With a tilt of her head she sent him flying through the air towards Abyss' follower. The Isthl runes on her blades glowed with power as she prepared her next spell.

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Darth Abyss"]

Vrak let out a chuckle.

He smiled, a grim and barren smile. One hand slowly slipped around the saber-staff that had been hanging from his belt, the other slowly flipped over, almost as though he were observing the back of his palm. For a moment the Pureblood said nothing, his gaze drifting from his hand, through the courtyard, and eventually settling on the Sith Lord in front of him. Amusement played across his lips, though the emotion did not touch his eyes in the least.

"So you're going to kill me?" Vrak grinned. "And what do you think that will accomplish?"

He made a 'tsk' sound with his tongue. "You have no fleet, no armada, nothing but paltry rebels. After my death they will ruin this world."

Slowly the Sith Lord shook his head. His gaze drifted once more, his disinterest focused mostly upon the small wisp of smoke that drifted up from behind Abyss. Briefly Vrak wondered what it was, though his attention was still on speaking to the man himself. In the distance he could hear the sounds of slaughter, death, broken tides. He knew what was happening of course, but he couldn't help but wonder just how far they would get before all of this was at an end.

"The Empire doesn't care about you." He stated simply. "It doesn't care about me or any bargain you strike with a would be dead man."

The idea of his death seemed to make him smile, a taunt in it's own right perhaps. "I am no Emperor, no God-King, no Prophet."

The word seemed to amuse him a great deal.

"My word is but the will of The Empire." He shrugged his shoulders. "And the Empire wills this world to surrender, or burn."

 

[Darth Abyss]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-wPLHTZwYtY
"Even when we leave, we just coming back
This body's just a shell so its bound to crack
The spirit inside, you couldn't hold back
And let me see you try, but you got no chance"

Malachor, The Tainted City - Below the Spires

"What will be left of your beloved empire once all its feeble servants are nothing more than rotten flesh and broken bones? Your will might be that of the empire, but mine is eternal. My hand is endless."

There was again the laugh that had been the last sound heard by so many before they found their eternal rest, the left, claw like hand of the strange figure rising to point at [member="Vrak Nashar"]. Yet before his sound had time to fade from the air around the two combatants, before the hand was anymore than a symbol of utter defiance towards a meaningless empire, the metal husk was swallowed by thick, black smoke.

"You are a disgrace for our kind, a petty dog that does whatever his masters say. You are not even worthy of the blood in your veins."

The words were merely another insult, serving two purposes at once. One was to further try to anger and irritate his opponent. The second one had nothing to do with the words, but their direction. Instead of simply letting them echo around them as normally, Abyss made an effort to let the sound jump from left to right, up and down and back, while his physical and spiritual presence became obscured below layers of shadows, darkness and deception, making it almost impossible to sense him with eyes, ears or the force. He truly was a ghost in more than one way.

Once the smoke would fade again there would be nothing left to see, not even footprints in the dirt as the silent steps of the Prophet never left marks where he walked. He had already started a slow, careful path to ambush his opponent, a half circle that would bring him towards the left of his enemy. Below his cloak of shadows Abyss had already got his weapons of choice ready. in his left rested Famines' Taint, the symbol for his seat in the council of assassins. In his right rested Mirazas, a sith sword that was imbued with a powerful illusion. The pureblood would not even see his own death coming.

[member="Neesa"] [member="Caid Centurion"] [member="Antherion"] [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] [member="Thraxis"] [member="Darth Mara"] [member="Darth Ophidia"] @Darvis Rosilla

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

Perhaps she had said too much, it at least seemed to annoy the woman. So she supposed it had been worthwhile, she chuckled as the woman finally drew her weapons. With a flick of her wrist, the thrown follower was met by another concentration of telekinesis, not enough to throw him off course but enough to slow him, allowing him to catch his footing and run off appropriately, leaving the sith to their duel.

With that taken care of, she gave a sweet laugh of her own, as her fingers curled around the hilt of her blade. "Hmm... Say.. no. But for you, you've much to sing for me." With that said, and a graceful, quick motion she drew her blade, which seemed to sing as it cut through the air and into a low guard between them. She smiled lightly, and her purple cloak was allowed to flutter back onto the ground, leaving her in only most of her regalia.

Silence. Then slow, methodical steps. One... two... three... Ariealla kept time as she approached [member="Neesa"] slowly. "It's nothing personal, you understand. I owed the prophet a favor." She spoke, in an attempt to distract her from noticing the beat of her feet. If only to prevent her from taking the first move. She continued her slow approach, her weapon in a low guard, before she raised her hand and sent a bolt of lightning at the Sith's chest, to draw her into making a retaliation. She could use the delicious anger, use it to fuel herself more. Her swordsmanship would have to compensate for her weaker force capabilities...

 

[Neesa]

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"]

"I hope it was a large one," Neesa retorted. Her eyes narrowed, her gaze shifted from the woman's feet to her face. Her footwork was careful, controlled. That wasn't a good sign. Many sith liked to charge into a battle and swing a saber like a broadsword. As sparks danced across the silver-haired woman's fingers Neesa's unkempt hair stood on end. She brought up both sith swords and crossed them over her chest as the bolts lanced across the space between them. She turned her head aside and shielded her eyes; they provided a very limited sense when compared to the Force anyway.

The swords thrummed with power when it was done. All the runes on each blade now glowed faintly. The stench of burnt keratin hung around the young assassin, but she had never been one to care much for the health of her own hair. She lowered the point of one sword at her opponent's chest. Then she swung it away. A single spark of lightning leapt from the tip of the blade to the back of the fleeing citizen. He fell forwards and writhed in agony. Neesa arched an eyebrow at her opponent and swept back her right leg to find a stable position. She dropped her weight a few inches and held her ground. Sorrow was kept in a low, outer guard. Thirst remained higher, desperate to strike the blow that spilled blood.

 

[Vrak Nashar]

(For some reason I'm not getting tags in this thread, Sorry mate)
[member="Darth Abyss"]

An odd sort of haze formed around Vrak in an instant. For a moment it did nothing, then a translucent red bubble formed around the Sith Lord.

It appeared in an instant, a shield born of the force itself, a bubble of protection that warped itself into life around the Pureblood. The force bloomed from him, maintaining a presence as he stood still within the center of the Courtyard. The smoke would whirl and wash around the bubble, never penetrating through it's reaches or touching Vrak's skin. A look of disgust formed upon his features, the tentacles of his face twitching ever so slightly.

He made no move to defend himself, he took to action to counter assault, he simply stood in place as Abyss bashed his blades against the side of the bubble of protection.

"I serve no one but the greater good of my people." He stated simply, turning within the bubble to his left.

The Pureblood paused just a moment. "You hold such enmity for things you do not even understand."

"You wish to be king here, to rule your world." The force began to build within him. "But that is where your power stops."

A wave of power rushed from him, the bubble breaking around him and the force surging in a three hundred and sixty degree arc all around him. The wave would press away the smoke, and hopefully Abyss himself.

 

[Ariealla Vareldi]

"A very personal favor, lets put it that way. She chuckled as she sent the bolt away into the back of the fleeing individual. They fell, naturally. She was not one to move to defend someone, and put herself at a disadvantage. Instead, she simply offered her melodic laughter, and a bit of a mocking tease. "Oh no, an innocent is dead. Whatever will I, a Sith, do? Mm.. then again do I care enough to do anything? Ah decisions, decisions..." Her saberstaff was held low, the black core surrounded by violet ignited on both ends as she made her way closer still.

She wouldn't rush. She had no need to.. practical application of Juyo demanded measured aggression and violence, she had to strike with full force when the moment presented itself. And the moment would be obvious, when she needed it to be. "Good to know you brought proper sith blades with you though, I'd have hated to cut them apart, such pretty little things they are after all." Her stance was excellent, proper. One blade ready to strike, the other ready to catch her own. Well, that certainly was the most practical, basic version of Jar'Kai. Not to mention the short blades...

She smiled to herself as she gave her saber a fancy little twirl. There was the angle. She spun the weapon across her chest once, to bring it to her empty hand for a proper grip, and in that same motion she grabbed and threw a discarded crate at @Neesa. Count one, two more steps in, she was rocketing across the field, timed to reach her just after the crate she had somewhat discreetly thrown. Another beat, and she made her first strike. A swift jab forward with the bottom blade, then a violent cut down with the same blade and the follow up strike with the second in the same manner. In a breath or two she unleashed three strikes, though their effectiveness would be minimal no doubt. She was, after all, testing the waters.

 

[Ras'kala'han]

[retconned, Antherion was never here]

 

[Darth Abyss]

Malachor, The Tainted City - Below the Spires

There was a surge of power as Abyss weapons reached [member="Vrak Nashar"]. The following wave of telekinetic power was enough to lift the metal husk of his feet and send him into a backwards flight, the cloak of shadows and darkness he had woven around himself breaking apart as his focus was moved to stopping his movement through the air. His armes extended to his sides, a invisible hand controlled by the spirit encased in the mask reaching for the flying armor. The hollow metal figure suddenly came to a stop midair in a perfectly straight position, before slowly levitating towards the ground again, his feet leaving no traces once they touched the dirt below them.

"I am no king, never claimed to be, never desired to. You would know that if you were not blinded by your unfounded arrogance. Also "the good of your people"? Either be a true sith and admit that all you care for is power, or start wearing a brown robe."

Despite the small backlash after his first attack the empty creature released another twisted laugh to follow behind his words. He didn't simply wanted to kill his opponent, he wanted him to break until there would be nothing left but a brittle, broken soul imprisoned in an equally damaged body. Only then would he grant the unworthy being the undeserved present of death. Slowly he moved forwards, the sith sword which was loosely hanging in his right drawing a line into the dirt. Then his left extended, his thumb keeping the dagger locked in place while the rest of his fingers pointed at the red skinned alien.

"Learn that my power is far beyond the boundaries of your fragile mind you worthless little insect."

There was a surge of dark energy, yet the attack wasn't happening on the physical plane, but a level above where thoughts, emotions and memories had a relationship to the force that allowed beings like Abyss to manipulate the minds of others. He hadn't yet called upon his most powerful, his most destructive ability of devouring the minds of others, expecting the mental defenses of his opponent to be to powerful to be broken just yet.

Instead he went the opposite route, using his mental capabilities to aim a focused stream of thoughts meant to flood the mind of his adversary. He unleashed a storm of fragments, allowing the other a painful glimpse of insight into the things he could perceive. Darksight, a ability that required an almost as intimate understanding of chaos theory as it did of the force. Vrak would be hit with a complex network of hundreds of possible futures, various different time streams expanding and diverting from this exact moment. Some exceptionally gifted individuals had been able to simply shrug such attacks off, most experienced a short period of confusion and fear, and some couldn't comprehend the endless insight into the galaxy and broke from it into empty shells of madness and chaos.

"Mirazas"

While the mental blast would die down gradually Abyss made an effort to close the gap between the two, hoping to have gained an opening thanks to his first attack. When the name of his blade was whispered, and when the runes engraved into it light up for a second, the entire state of the weapon seemed to have changed. It was now simply a blur in and around his hand, making it practically impossible to detrimen the exact angle and direction of the strike that followed. From the outside it looked like the blade could land anywhere from Vrak's upper leg to his head, but Abyss knew that the cold metal actually aimed for the sith's left shoulder. Following the strike in quick succession was a stab with the knife in his left, meant to ram the dagger into his opponent's stomach.

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Darth Abyss"]

The mind was an interesting place.

For many Sith it was the one place that could be a true sanctuary. It was the only home they ever really knew, the only place that they were safe. Purebloods especially lived with this, the thought of only ever being safe within their minds. Most of the time they were targets, either by their kin or those below them. Students turned on masters, fathers killed sons, siblings slaughtered one another for even the smallest gain of power. It was their way.

It was what made them strong, but it didn't make them invulnerable.

As Abyss hurled his mental spear at Vrak the Pureblood buckled back slightly. A pain shot through his mind, a blade stabbing into his very thoughts. He caught none of the projections that Abyss threw at him, he was not trapped in a thousand views of the future, instead he felt only pain as his own mental acuity fought against The Prophets. His fingers tightened, his hand came up, his red eye became half a haze for just a moment as a blood vessel burst inside of it.

A small groan of pain escaped him, his head coming up in time to see the vague shadow approach him.

The force burst through him again, this time not in a wave but a spark. His free hand flowing up as he took three steps back. The blades swept before him, his fingers curling and then aloud crack of lightning erupting forth from his palm.

 

[Caid Centurion]

Tainted City Outskirts

Meanwhile on the outskirts...

Caid's black cloak fluttered at random intervals as the wind caught hold of the fabric. For the past several minutes, it had just about been the only movement from his particular section of the city's outskirts. There had been a number of others looking to escape the city. However, the Sith Warrior had ordered the heads of the family members he'd killed placed on pikes. There were no signs that hung from their necks and more than a few indigenous avian creatures loomed in the area, hoping to have a chance to pick at the exposed meat.

"Master..."

Caid did not move. "Speak."

"The Legions have completed redeployment to reinforce the lines."

There was nothing but silence from Caid for several long moments. Eventually, his voice reached out through the air scrubbers of his mask. "Bring me their commander."

"As you command." The hulking Massassi immediately departed the Sith's side.

As was too be expected, the commander, a higher rank technically than Caid, was not far from the epicenter of the Massassi strength. Similarly, the man only obeyed because, well, it was simply useless to fight against a Massassi or a Sith of any type. Veritas was not a name the man knew, so better to err on the side of caution.

"My master wishes to speak with you."

"Very well."

Minutes had ticked by until Caid felt the approach of an unfamiliar entity. His gaze remained focused on the sprawling city. A city he cared nothing for other than the fact that...whatever was presently happening on the world had detracted him from pursuits he did care about.

"Mi'lord..." The greeting was...almost hesitant, unsure if the Sith knew he was there.

"Colonel. Advance your men upon the city."

"...Mi'lord?"

"It is just Veritas, Colonel."

The Colonel wasn't...really sure if the Sith was extending the courtesy of casual discourse or correcting him, but he knew full well it was best to simply obey. It was why he, a non-Sith, had ascended to such a rank with little negative side effects. "My orders were to mainta---" The Colonel's words were cut short by an unseen but all too familiar force constricting harshly around his vocal chords.

Caid still did not turn. "Advance. Your. Men. Kill everything."

The Colonel couldn't reply though he did make the attempt.

Caid did eventually release the man before speaking orders to the Massassi standing behind the Colonel. "Captain."

"Master."

"We burn everything. The Council can determine whether or not they wish to rebuild on the ashes of this pathetic slag of rock."

A pause and the Colonel was released, sputtering sounds of coughing drifting on the wind for a moment.

"Let the followers of this so-called prophet follow him and his idiotic machinations into obscurity. They, like this world, matter not."

"Immediately, Master."

It was but another couple of minutes before Caid watched as Massassi and soldiers of the Resurgent Legions surged forward into the city. Remaining behind for just a moment, Caid relayed similar orders to the Massassi that he'd left behind at the Spheres of Ash. There was no need for the Sith to rush anywhere. The will of the Empire would be executed..whether in a city or some vast wasteland expanse. There was no hiding from the will of the Empire. He needed not to hear directly from the Dark Council to know how they would wish to respond to this...incident. No matter how insignificant this little rebellion was in the grand scheme...it was still unacceptable.

Thus the lives of all those on Malachor have become forfeit...

[member="Vrak Nashar"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Antherion"] | [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] | [member="Thraxis"] | [member="Darth Mara"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Neesa"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aN1eIBUY8Uc

Been clinging on to madness
But I finally built a kingdom from my passion
So start to divvy up the cash and
I pull the next world wonder out the back alley trash can
A vision ever lasting
They try to get em' but they couldn't build a prison that would trap him
But in this land here the shaman's a king

Malachor, The Tainted City - Below ther Spires

The laugh seemed to shatter and defy reality itself as blue sparks of dark energy transformed into destructive currents of electricity licked over the metal husk. Force lightning was still harmful to him in his ascended state of being, but nowhere near to the damage it did to a living, breathing creature composed out of flesh, blood and bones. He felt no pain, and neither were there muscles and nerves that could twitch under the influence of electricity, all the attack did was to mark the armor with burn marks and small cracks. Thin black smoke emerged from these fine rifts, fragments of power that was mislead by the disrupted network of crystals that allowed his mask to use the armor as conduit. With another whisper the illusion around his sword, which was vibrating with electricity much alike the rest of his armor, faded to not waste his energy on keeping it up when he didn't had to.

"Your arrogance will be your end if you continue to see the man I once was instead of the darkness I have become."

Damaged but unfazed by the stream of electricity the husk pushed forward, lifting his sword for another strike. Yet when it came down after another step, clearly aimed at the left foot of his opponent it was revealed that it had merely bein a feint the movement changing into an backwards arc all of a sudden as Abyss used the momentum to push his left shoulder towards Vrak. In this push rested the weight and momentum of his metal shell, aimed to ram his shoulder into the sith's chest, hopefully still carrying on some of the electricity that had caught him only moments earlier.

[member="Vrak Nashar"]


Malachor, The Tainted City - Outskirts

It was foolish to underestimate the people of Malachor, and especially the Unchained of the Tainted City. You didn't survived the harsh live in the wastelands and inside of the crime infected cities without a certain level of strength and intelligence. Most of Malachorians had decided to follow the orders of their Prophet, but some remained, ready to fight for their home until their last breath. They didn't needed words of encouragement from their shadowy leader to defend what they had build over years, their home, their own land of the free.

While Abyss was caught up fighting Vrak in the dim light of Malachors dark sun, his A.I. Glory had decided to not follow orders as well. Other than her surrogate father she wasn't ready to let this end in a long, probably eternal hunt in which the deathless Mindeater would kill anyone with the slightest ties to the empire. Under her command the people that remained had rallied together in their act of resistance. This was no longer a simple fight, it was a war, a rebellion. In the paths of the Tainted City not yet conquered by the enemy those willing to fight began to build makeshift barricades, started to make homes into bunkers and made sure to pass on real weapons to anyone in sight.

The members of the Tainted Legion proudly raised the Black Flag of the Chorus, the Lab Rats made their runs through the less well known passageways through the city to make sure that anyone had all the supplies they needed. Even some Ghostmakers, the Prophet's personal elite forces, had remained, standing side by side with the others to send the empire soldiers back into the dirty hole they had crawled out. Malachor was theirs, now and forever.

[member="Caid Centurion"]

 

[Velok the Younger]

OBJECTIVE: Rewilding
ENEMIES: Abyssfolks
ALLIES: The Resurgent Empire, [member="Yidhra"]

Once upon a time, not so very long ago, Malachor had been a beautiful place. Stark spires of black rock; deep crags and crevices; the haunting howl of the indigenous species. As on so many other worlds, the locals had been marginalized and forced out by offworlders, outlanders. Velok's own planet, Toola, could empathize.

Now, all things considered, the storm beasts of Malachor weren't terribly bright. But goshdarnit, this was their planet.

Their diaspora population on Tash-Taral had served as a fount of willing revanchists, re-colonists following the ancestral memories which Velok stirred in their minds. Now, as an old Mandalorian carrier grumbled its way into the atmosphere of Malachor, hundreds of drop pods fell away. From their impact sites, the noble storm beasts ranged out across their homeland once more. Their ultrasonic roars shook folly and weakness from the spires. On the carrier's bridge, Velok confessed himself well pleased.

 

[Natalie LaForte]

Allies: [member="Thraxis"], [member="Blake Morrigan"], [member="Dravis Rosilla], [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] (Those not replying removed)
Neutral: (?)
Enemies: The Resurgent Empire, [member="Vrak Nashar"], [member="Veritas"]
Equipment:
On person: 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

"It was fun while it lasted, truly." Thrusting her arm into the officer that was currently manhandling her. "Was my pleasure, though you should know to never touch a woman like that." Before firing the splintered rocks into his face and disfiguring it, though unsurprisingly, the crowd was too busy attempting to spread themselves out, the chemical now clearly within their bloodstreams.

"Now as much as I would, and I truly would, love to stay here and act as a pawn in my former Master's plan, the empire clearly shows no remourse in attempting to murd-.. no, genocide the people of this city. As much as I would support them in their imperialistic desires, this place rings a bell in my heart that unfortunately cannot be tamed by the sentimental threat of destruction."

"No no, this so called empire cannot have their cake and eat it, I will be seeing to that."

The riots continued in the market, basically in utter chaos as Empire officers were assaulted, as a mix of their anger towards their captives and the catalyst of a chemical surging through their systems, getting them just as ready to pounce like a puma.

"Let's leave before I waste anymore money giving this product out for free in such large quantities, shall we?" and with the escort of the droids providing both a physical and metaphoric shield, they pushed and shoved their way out of the market, seeking a more secure location to set their new plans in motion.

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

The Shadow stirred into full awareness as the future was set by a slight few actions, eradicating and burning away potential events and occurrences that now could never come to pass. The stage was now set, the lines that would be followed restricted to a few options, choice still present but no longer as wide spread as it was. And, so, as the future narrowed to a lesser amount of pathways, the Shadow stirred from its quiet isolation within the depths of space, his gazing through the lense of the Force, so as to watch what would happen on Malachor, coming to an end as his physical sight was returned to him through the single, amber hued eye would open to stare into the darkness that enshrouded the Shadow.

His attention had been drawn to Malachor by the request of [member="Darth Abyss"], his fellow council member of the Sith Assassins, however, rather than heading his call to arms for the purpose of rebellion, he had chosen instead to hold back and observe. And so he had watched as citizens were cut down even as they fought for what they perceived to be freedom, the Shadow feasting all the while upon the strands of Dark that were born into the Force with each body that fell to the ground and each display of rage was enacted. He had watched as the pathways of the future rolled and twisted as each choice was considered by each being present on the ruined planet and then watched as pathways burnt to ash as a choice was finally made. But, now, the majority of pathways had been erased and the story of this current age of Malachor was nearly fully foretold. And, so, the Shadow first stirred and then pulled himself back to his physical form as he levered it into a standing position, joints cracking as they were forced to move. The Shadow awoke and chose now to finally act.

It was not the suffering being inflicted upon the citizens that drove him to begin fastening the rudimentary leather plackard and pauldrons to his physical self, it was not the previously uttered request for aid that he had, until thus far, ignored (although the fact that there was an accord between the Shadow and Abyss did play some part). No, what roused the Shadow to action was both the fact that he wished to play a part within the final act of the play being written and acted at the same time and the fact that a question was stirring within him. He perceived only displays of strength from the Empire that Abyss was trying to reclaim Malachor from, displays of brutality and a willingness to burn and reduced to ash any sign of dissidence. But, was that all the Empire was? Displays of terror and fear and mindless strength? For, while those emotions could inspire obedience it also bred disloyalty and the idea of rebellion within the people that those emotions would be inspired within. So, he wondered, were the base forces of the Empire reliant upon displays of brutal strength and burning all that stood against them, or could they fight with intelligence, dismantlement disloyalty with words instead of death? And if the base forces could not work through subtlety, then what hope did the upper echelons of the Empire have for where were the men to enforce their subtle displays of oppression?

Fastening the final weapon to his form, not that he was carrying many for he chose to leave behind his bow and rifle - at least a quarter of all of his available choices for weapons - the Shadow shook himself from his thoughts and focused on bending his Presence within the Force to his will. And, indeed, beneath the strength of his will and the power gained through experience, his Presence began to shrink to but a tiny spark of Darkness even as its nonexistent surface began to shift to blend in with the surrounding flow of the Force, becoming Porcelain in nature as it camouflaged itself within the Force while also removing all aspect of personality. As an Assassin, it was instinct for him to disguise and obscure himself in such a manner, but, the fact that he had tied himself to the interests of The Sith Ascendancy, which currently held, to the best of his knowledge, a basic treaty with the Empire, was what drove him to employ the practices of Quey'tek Meditation so as to erase all aspect of the self from his Presence so that his future actions would not bring repercussions upon himself.

Focusing his mind, bringing forth the image of a location near the outskirts of the Ruined City that he had divined through the Force, the Shadow once more began to enforce his will, but, this time, upon the Force and not his Presence. Slowly, space began to distort around him, the Force beginning to rip and tear, wounded by the unnatural pressure being pressed upon it before it, finally, relented and the Shadow vanished, leaving behind only a slowly healing wound within the Force. Darth Lykos - the Unseen Shadow and the White Assassin as well as the Aspect of Conquest among the Sith Assassins - was soon to begin to play a part in the ever forming strands of the future on Malachor.

----------

Malachor V, The Tainted City, Outskirts

Lykos strode through the chaos enveloping the city with calmness and almost a sense of apathy as he fed from the pain being expression into the Force from all around him. The citizens who remained within the City stood defiant behind ramshackle barricades as the forces of the Empire battered against them and, although he saw the foolishness in the actions of many of them - those that held no right to fight - Lykos did allow himself to feel something that could be described as being similar to respect and frustration in equal measures to bloom within his hearts. For, after all, even if those that had no right to fight, no strength to justify their actions, at least they stood among those that did have the strength and chose not to flee but instead face Nath's judgement within the void under the eyes of Vysh.

Unhurried and ignored as the Cloak of the Force drawn around his cloak-enshrouded form served to eliminate him from sight and hearing, the one-eyed Zabrak passed through the masses on bared feet. Even as he would pass around crowds, which would prevent him from travelling straight, he was constantly travelling towards where he felt a beacon of Darkness flaring unashamedly within the Force, a Sith who commanded the majority of the stronger forces that besieged the citizens of Malachor. They were just the one that Lykos wished to analyse so as to gleam an understanding with the base forces of the Empire, one that commanded them whilst walking among them. For, after all, with the Sith actually among their midst what soldier would disobey.

A strand of thought would reach out towards the man as soon as Lykos set his gaze upon him, a single tendril of darkness that would brush against his mental shields. Within that contact would be the emotions of blood-lust, frenzy, curiosity and anticipation. All woven around six, simple, hissed words. "Would you care to spar, m'lord?" As a being brought up within a harsh environment, taught to fight from an early age and a subscriber to the belief that conflict drove all things, meeting this man within battle would be the best way, in Lykos' opinion, to gain an understanding of him.



[member="Caid Centurion"]
OOC Note: If there are any issues with my post or me joining in this late, feel free to contact me either through PM or by tagging me in this threads OOC thread.

 

[Yidhra]

OBJECTIVE: Storm the castle
ENEMIES: Dirty rebels
ALLIES: [member="Velok the Younger"] | TRE

Yidhra was decidedly displeased.

She’d have much rather kept the storm beasts in her personal dungeons for… science, but no, the whiphid Sith just had to be overcome by a sudden and rather nauseating urge to ‘help’ the creatures.

The sorceress scowled, making angry amber side-eyes at the tall man across the bridge. Lips thinned, she averted her gaze to consult the dotted tactical holomap of the clusterkark below. Being entirely honest for a moment, Yidhra had very little wish to join the mess groundside. Plenty of dark holes for enemies to hide in, and not enough disposable Massassi to throw in the path of their blade.

How very inconvenient.

“Where will you be landing?” she asked the whiphid, gaze darting over the labyrinthine layout.

However un-enthused she was about melee combat, the planet below them was to a Sith what an all-you-can-eat buffet was to a man ten days starved.

Yidhra Dottash, incidentally, was rather peckish.

 

[Nate Phantoms]

Malachor, The Tainted City
Allies: [member="Darth Abyss"]
Enemies: Everyone else

For the first time in a long time, he was actually on his way to getting drunk. Not too buzzed, but also not sober. He hadn't drank in ages, mainly because he didn't have the time for it. Only difference between now and then was the fact that he made enough time to come and get wasted.

At least that was the plan.

Sitting in the dimly lit establishment wearing all black, his black fatigues stood out like a sore thumb. They begged the questions; ex military? Bounty hunter? Fake wanna be? All would be considered wrong, way off to be frank. But they wouldn't know, never would because he didn't talk once, never uttering a single word. Both elbows resting on the counter, head tilted slightly to the side as something called to him, like a warning.

With a sigh, her picked up his drink and cloak, wrapping the latter back around his body as he stepped outside. Looking up at the sky, his little majestic moment by himself was only to be interrupted by a pillar of smoke rising into the air.

"Now what is that?" Casually sipping his drink, he made his way to the area, step by step, all the while whistling to himself.