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

[Caid Centurion]

Tainted City

There was a simple truth. The vast majority of people in the galaxy didn't actually have the stomach to maintain any form of useless, pathetic rebellion when their entire lives were crashing down around them. Though, the actual reality on Malachor was that...the people had been left completely alone to their own devices since the rise of the Empire. It was the myopic crusaders here now, attempting to stir dissent that did not truly exist, that had signed the death warrants of all those that inhabited the planet.

Casually, Caid followed behind the advancing line of troops and Massassi. Reports were filtering through his communications equipment that the citizens were attempting to setup barricades and ambush positions. It didn't matter to Caid. The people of Malachor weren't actually trained. They could rally behind whatever empty words and promises anyone wanted to mention. This entire evolution was happening because of one unassailable fact.

The so-called Prophet's failure was complete, undeniable. The Resurgent Empire ruled this area of space. Its citizens only ever fell into too categories; loyal and dead.

In that precise moment, a presence brushed against his own. Words that were not Caid's own echoed in his mind. The dark-skinned Sith gave the hidden speaker the only response he much had for games. Silence. If the man wanted a fight, he could seek it out. Caid, however, had more pressing concerns, and they did not include being on the surface of this retched planet for a second longer than absolutely necessary.

From behind the featureless black mask adorning his head, Caid watched as Massassi ripped through perimeter defenses and the Legions drew fire. Withdrawing a datapad, Caid pulled up a quick summary of information. The fleet that had been called in by [member="Vrak Nashar"] some time ago were in the final stages of typical protocol, positioning themselves for the most effective distribution of sensor and weapon coverage on critical areas. Smiling to himself, Caid stored the device and keyed out on the unit frequency belonging to the vessel carrying the Admiral in charge of the resources.

"Admiral. This is Lord Veritas." It was an honorific that he hadn't quite earned just yet, but it was irrelevant to those that did not belong to the upper class of Sith among the Resurgent Empire.

"Yes, Mi'lord?"

"Citizens have apparently drawn their line in the sand."

A pause.

"I surmise you believe them to be standing on the wrong side, Mi'lord?"

"Raze every residential and commercial area of this planet to the ground."

A longer pause.

"As you command, Mi'lord. It will take twenty minutes to widen our targeting parameters and sort targets based on weapon availability and vessel position. Even then, we will have to shift formations in phases. I estimate... Several hours for full effect."

"You have your orders, Admiral."

Caid said nothing to the soldiers he continued to follow, silver blade of his lightsaber activating once again with a snap-hiss. The strong would survive.

[member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Antherion"] | [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] | [member="Thraxis"] | [member="Darth Mara"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Neesa"] | [member="Darth Lykos"] | [member="Yidhra"] | [member="Velok the Younger"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Darth Abyss"]

Vrak bounded back and to the side, moving not to strike at the odd ghost like figure, but simply to avoid being struck himself.

As his shoulder slipped to the side he fell the barest of connection between himself and Abyss, a momentary scrape of the creature's shoulder along his bicep. He felt a muted pain rush through him in an instant, the spark of lightning that he had sent through the man jumping between the two of them and running in concert. Pain lashed through his fingertips, running through his body and bounding across him for just a few seconds until he managed to pull away.

"I see you as a remnant." Vrak spoke through gritted teeth, His lightsaber finally bursting into life with a loud snap-hiss.

The agony of his own assault poured through him for a moment more, the darkside cloaking him as the pain fed into his own resolve. His breath remained short for just a second, and then his off-hand rose. The bubble that he had created around himself appeared again, but this time not around Vrak. Instead the translucent walls of force energy swooped in around the ghost, attempting to trap him.

"You are a lesson." His voice boomed a bit louder. "A reminder of what it means to fully succumb."

If Vrak succeeded in trapping the man the bubble would begin to close, and then quickly crush.

 

[Nichtmehr]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YBfrgNAjRhc
"Like the tide rolling in I have a natural persistence
High focus is the future for the underground resistance
your mind stays basic could mistake you for an infant
like nuclear bombs we take you out in an instant"
Malachor, The Tainted City - Beyond the Lines of the Chorus

"Still here? Never thought of you as the type to stay here when things look bad."

The Emissary was meet with those words and a quick salute as the droid stepped near Pale Hand, one of the key members of the Inner Eye, who was locked into a discussion with the highest ranking member of the Ghostmakers that had stayed to fight for his city. As answer the droid, still shrouded in the black and gold ceremonial robe that marked him as the voice of the prophet, lifted his own right towards his head for a moment before speaking.

"Firewall is a Free City too. It would pain me to see everything burn which those like me have build over years. What is the plan?"

The pale skin of the agent's face twisted, forming into a wicked grin. He gestured both the droid and the Ghostmaker to follow him inside the warehouse a few steps away. After entering he walked straight to a empty wall, his hand dancing over the cold steel for a few seconds. Then there was a sudden sound, as the ground around the group opened up and several storage units were lifted up from below the surface.

"Ever wondered why Glory decided to claim this side of the city? Here's the answer. No more Mr. Niceguy, we're fighting really, really, dirty now. Commander, call all remaining Ghostmakers to this location. The empire is in for a little show."

With the grin on his face the agent reached into the storage unit, taking out a small vial with a blue liquid inside. FA73 had actually been developed to be used against the Imperial remnant, but as the current situation showed it was wiser to play that card a bit earlier than the Prophet had planned. Then the agent reached for the weapon of the Ghostmaker, the commander a bit to surprised to even react. Without further words he opened up the weapon, starting to alter several circuits inside. The he reached for a container roughly the same size of those used by the Ghostmaker acid launcher, filling mainly water and a few drops of the blue liquid into it.

"Alright that should do it. We do this with every of those still on Malachor and the soldiers of the empire will rip each other apart. But be cautious, this stuff is rare."

He handed the weapon back to the soldier, who still looked at the agent with confusion. Besides the Inner Eye no one knew of the chemical weapons that the Chorus was working on for a situation, well for situation like this one. The agent shook his head, before speaking again.

"Just do what you always do. Hit and run. Trust me."

Within minutes roughly forty Ghostmakers gathered in the warehouse, waiting while the agent and the Emissary made the necessary alterations to heat the weapon up high enough while firing to make the liquid usable inside the gas launcher. At the end he handed a last weapon over to the droid.

"Move. Show them why it was a mistake to come here."

[member="Caid Centurion"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

Malachor, The Tainted City - Below the Spires

"EnoughEnoughEnough."

The words echoed over the battlefield, not a single voice, but a chorus of hundreds of minds that Abyss had devoured, the metal crown upon his head glowing in a bright crimson light while the metal husk began to bend and deform under the force applied to crush him, more black smoke dancing from the cracks that formed allover the armor. Slowly his left rose lifted another time, again only his thumb keeping the dagger locked in his hand while his fingers pointed at [member="Vrak Nashar"].

"What has your empire accomplished? My world has seen your fragilefragilefragile crippled agents, your incompetent soldiers and your sith hereticshereticsheretics, and yet here I stand, free from the chainschainschains that still bind you. Is that what you false sith call victoryvictoryvictory?"

His opponent had awoken something that better should have stayed hidden, the surge of darkness inside the hollow figure leaving a feel of emptiness in those around him. There was a name used for him by those that feared him, and it was neither Prophet, nor Abyss. The Mindeater, the second lord of hunger, had risen.

"First I will devourdevourdevour you, then the empire until there is nothing left but emptinessemptinessemptiness."

The attack had no effect on the physical plane, but those unfortunate enough to be around would feel it like a sickness that descended onto their minds. His opponent didn't had such luck, when the abyss of the Mindeater's mind opened for the first time during the duel, like a black hole eating the stars around it. Nothing, no thought, no emotion and no memory that wasn't hidden or secured exceptionally well inside the mind of his enemy was safe from the all devouring emptiness.

For a few moment the display of his true power remained. It required all of Abyss focus to seal the void that raged on inside of him, the dark power that had driven him to become what he now was. After another few moments the mental maelstroms faded fully, leaving only an echo of twisted energy behind. Even the voice of the entity returned to its slightly more normal state. Hopefully his opponent understood that his words had been far more than an empty threat.

"Now we should negotiate."

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Darth Abyss"]

Vrak appeared impassive, his hand having dropped to his side, his lightsaber still burning bright red.

The Sith Lord could admit to being impressed. His own skill in the elements of Mentalism were limited at best, and he understood what he had seen, a lingering ache within his mind still carrying free, but that all meant nothing. Power was more than physical strength, it was more than control over a single world, it was the ability to maintain oneself. Abyss was powerful, but how long could he keep together? How long would he survive as the monstrosity he was now?

That was the failure of the Sith, lack of foresight.

The Pureblood let out a loud chuckle when Abyss spoke again, his smile thin and his body language not relaxing an inch. He wasn't aware of the Empire's call to Burn Malachor, only his earlier orders to slaughter. Yet either way he didn't particularly care. "Why?"

He smiled.

"I already told you your threats mean nothing. Your power means nothing." He mused. "You can attack again and again, throw yourself at the Empire, but do you really think you'll win? Even if you kill me, even if you manage to somehow destroy me. There are a million more like me."

The Pureblood stood a little taller. "We survived the Republic, we survived Naga Sadow, Ragnos, Vitiate. Compare to them you're nothing."

His gaze shot towards the stars around Malachor, the thin silhoutte of The Tyrant still lingering above the planet.

"You want this world?" He scoffed. "Then be intelligent."

He sounded disgusted that he even had to point that out. "Submit to The Council. Pay tithes. Sit within the shadows and wait. It shouldn't be a problem for something like you."

 

[Darth Abyss]

The husk stood motionless, his slightly deformed left still eerily hovering in the air. His unmoved mask was unable to convey the mix resignation and anger that boiled within. Why did the sith of this age only care about worldly power, why did they lose their way and became blind heretics that didn't longer followed the call of their order and only that of an empire that had little to do with the actual idea of their kind. Yet that wasn't his fight. Man like [member="Vrak Nashar"] would one day see that they were slaves, bound to chains he had forged himself.

"Compared to them your a even less."

There was again the deranged laugh, this time born out of pure spite. He didn't needed a little insect to lecture him of the lords of the ancient ages, he had studied their feats, their powers to a degree that was rivaled by few, if by any. Then the metal shell straightened his stance, the left slowly descending to hang loosely at his side. He still desired to slaughter the pureblood, and everyone that would come after him, but time was his ally, not theirs.

"Submission? Taxes? Have you even looked at this world once?"

The thing that by far annoyed him the most about the empire and its emissary was their lack of vision. They understood their empire and nothing more, and because of it they couldn't see what Malachor could do for them if they changed their methods.

"How do you intent to enforce taxes on a world of smugglers? The second the empire shows up here to again enforce order the people will either fight or run, no matter what I say. Then all we both gained by this fight is a empty, dead rock and dead soldiers that died for absolutely nothing."

Slowly, yet not overly threatening, the husk walked towards the red sith, ghostly steps that lacked any sound. It took all his focus to not reach for a weapon and simply continue this fight to utter destruction, it took all his strength to not let chaos rule over the last hours of Malachor.

"Allow me to make a counter offer, one that would be mutually beneficial. Malachor can be many things for your empire, if you only allow it to. Command the empire to leave this world, allow us to be free, and in return I will make sure that your empire will gain much more than a half dead world ruled by criminals and outcasts. There is no world nearby that has so many bounty hunters, smugglers and runners that could do your work in the shadows, no world that earns so many credits that could flow into the empire's pockets uncut by laws. Technology illegal or stolen right from your enemies ready to be used by your soldiers."

His right rose into the air, and offer and not a threat. There were two ways this could end. Either his opponent would agree, or he would go with his initial plan and kill any member of them empire that would cross his path.

"I assume that your beloved council desires to clear up the details."

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Darth Abyss"]

He considered for a moment.

There was of course truth to what the man said. Malachor didn't really hold all that much value, and since the Fleet was turning the lifeless rock back into what it once was...well it wouldn't provide much of anything at all. Vrak could recognize opportunity when he saw it, but he was also no fool. He understood the weight of what could happen here.

The issue of Malachor's freedom was a difficult one. Abyss was right in that this planet could not pay taxes, or rather that it's earnings were so insignificant that it didn't matter. Couple that with the idea of planting another foot in the Underworld, well Vrak saw the worth of this offer. He had already touched upon several syndicates, and some even answered to him directly, but this wasn't something he could agree to himself. The Council's eye was already on Malachor, and anything that was done here would have to be settled there.

Not to mention one glaring issue. "You forget the most important part."

Vrak stated flatly.

"Sedition." Freedom came with a price, and that price was never moving a hand against the Empire itself. "Malachor might not be of worth, but it lays within the Caldera, within reach of Korriban, Kaas, Ziost."

He glanced at the creature, his hand still tight around his lightsaber. "I could convince The Council leave this world alone, as long as there's advantage. The Empire could remove itself, but the moment elements of this world, the moment you lift a finger against The Empire..."

Vrak trailed off.

"It will return." That was simple logic. No government, not even a Republic, would tolerate something like that. Least of all an Empire. "An enemy within The Empire's borders cannot, and will not be tolerated."

 

[Darth Abyss]

"You can tell your council that Malachor is not an enemy. We care as little for your worlds as we care for your empire. The dirt below our feet is the only thing that matters to us."

For once there was no lie, no layer of deception to the words spoken by the eldritch husk. The resurgent empire could do everything and he would simply ignore it, because to him they didn't meant anything once they left his world. He would outlive them, as would his cities and until then he was more than happy to keep the peace. If he desired to bring conquest to the Caldera then he would have joined the ranks of the Empire, but he was far beyond such worldly desires then worlds and wars. It wasn't the money, nor the resources that bound him to Malachor, but the idea of a world of his own design, resurrected from the dead by his hand.

"Maybe you are more sith than I thought. You say you act on the best interest of the Empire, but your eyes betray you. The reveal that you are motivated by the same selfish desire for power that draws our kind to greatness."

Once more he laughed, while the hand he had raised as an offer slowly descended besides his slightly deformed shell. He couldn't place his finger on what exactly, but he could see that [member="Vrak Nashar"] acted on his best interest and not just that of the empire. That brought him a glimpse of approval in the eyes of the Mindeater. A sith could never place anything above himself, or he would stop being a sith at all. From inside his robe he reached for a datapad, only to throw the small device in the dirt in front of the sith's feet.

"Use this if you ever need to contact me without the eyes of the empire upon you. Now I kindly ask you to take your men and leave me world."