Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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The Human Condition.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5fwFTdVhqx4​
What does a hero look like?
Do they don capes and stand against the sunlight?
Do they possess the greatest strength?
Do they always save the innocent in time?
Do they make choices based on what is wrong or right?
Do they have a conscious?
Heroes don't exist, and neither does the villain. A heart is merely encouraged by influence and the choices it makes are what ultimately defines the picture they choose to paint with either blood or purity.
Dark and light, evil and good.
These are merely constructs that would otherwise have no meaning.
They are actions.
Actions mold life or death.
What does a man look like?
Do they don capes and stand against the sunlight?
Do they possess the greatest strength?
Do they always save the innocent in time?
Do they bend to desire and ego?
Do they fall?
Do they murder?
Words fade away and what is left is essence.
There is only night and day.
There is only a mind and a skull surrounding it.
There is only choice.
There is no difference.
-Ambria, Heart of the Dark Side-
Rovasus coughed up blood and lay on the ground with tears rolling down his cheeks. His visor was cracked and scuffed with abuse. He could taste the blood lining his throat with its metallic, brackish flavor. A retrofitted DC-17 lay limp in his right hand as his fingers twitched and ached to grasp the grip of the gun to defend himself. Soft mocking winds glided lightly along the planet's surface, kicking up small dust devils.

"You were Imperial. You abandoned your duties, for this there is only punishment and dishonor. You have brought this on yourself, Captain."

Rovasus chuckled lightly as he picked himself up. He had taken a brutal beating at the hands of a monster otherwise known as [member="Abraxas"], genetic duplicate of the Butcher King. The ex-Imperial stared down the hulking armor clad Sith while trying to catch his breath. "Do you know the difference between you and I, Sith? Look at yourself. Think long and hard about how you use the Empire's name for genocide on planets that you have no damn business with. Balmorra? You understand why I'm here, otherwise you wouldn't have gone out of your way to find me." Rovasus aimed his DC-17 towards the monstrosity of a humanoid and unleashed a rapid succession of several bolts all grouped for Abraxas' head. Unable to move very quickly or with much grace, the freakish lab experiment found itself unmasked and roaring with rage. A disturbing visage of torn flesh and over-stimulated muscle tissue gazed upon the Captain with malice as it unsheathed a mighty blade and began to charge forward.

Sweeping slashes came down and to the side for the former Stormtrooper Captain, and he dodged and found himself backing away and throwing himself around just to get out of the bastard's reach. Tired and annoyed, the monster used the Force to pick up Rovasus and slam him to the ground over and over until he lay motionless. Abraxas walked over to the Captain's body, raising his blade over him in an attempt to plunge it into his very heart.
Rovasus let out a faint whisper into his internal comm unit before seeing the towering shadow of Abraxas come over him.

"D-darius.... help..."
Silence consumed the channel afterward.

[member="Darius"], [member="Julius Sedaire"]
 
Ambria was a cursed world. Under normal circumstances, Darius would not dare go near the planet. It was now known to be the birthplace of the Rule of Two; the world in which all of the galaxy's greatest woes were borne from. Rovasus and a team of Black Ravens were dispatched to scout the world for the Galactic Alliance forty-eight hours ago. Communications had been steady until the team came under attack.

Most of the team's life signs had gone nil. Had the team been under the charge of any other alliance group, they would have been declared KIA and forgotten. They understood the risks when they volunteered for this mission. They knew what fate could befall them. Yet, Rovasus himself had sent out a comm message. A simple one; a please for help and mercy.

These were Darius' men. Hearing the message tugged at his heartstrings. Some might say he allowed himself to become too attached, but he didn't much care right now. He'd left Mediha and Tehra back on Sullust and borrowed one of Starchaser's stealth ships. Master Sedaire had elected to join him - the man likely knew his padawan would perish on his own. Darius felt guilty for keeping Julius from his quest for the Millenium Falcon, but some things were just too important.

A few hours later and they arrived half a klick from Rovasus' last transmission on Ambria. The planet was a wasteland, and home to a great lake that served as a prison for the Dark Side powers used to cleanse all life from the world in centuries past. It was truly, the heart of the Dark Side.

"We need to find him master," Darius muttered with the utmost urgency. He was clad in his combat fatigues, though he'd opted for a traditional Jedi cloak to protect himself from the sand. "The last transmission came from just up ahead."

Without awaiting a reply, the padawan ignited the lightsaber he carried, and marched on toward the location - right on the edge of the lake. Even imprisoned, the monstrous powers of the Bogan were ever present, but Darius paid it no mind. His men needed him.

[member="Julius Sedaire"], [member="Rovasus Vonstrogg"], [member="Abraxas"]
 
One of Darius' men was in need, hurt and possibly dead. Julius had done the young lad many disservices over his life, and he was not about to do so any longer. Attachment being forbidden was something he had never understood entirely by the Order, and Master Marasun had always chided him when he was a young Padawan about it. But the Corellian Jedi, which he was coming more to identify himself with than any strict Order or Temple, had always sort of flirted with the edge of that line, if not outright ignored and danced past it. Just look at the Halycon family if you truly needed to see what they thought of such relationships and feelings.

Darius was, to him, the son he had never bothered to have. Females and romance were things the rogue loved to joke and goof over, but when it came to serious matters, most saw him leaving in the morning as fast as he could, before he could be tied down or things go awry. So when the distressed padawan had came to his adoptive 'space-dad' for help, he had merely taken long enough to throw on his Vanguard armor, grab a few other essentials, and then it was done. Training could wait. Questing for relics could wait. This was his son, and by the Nine Hells, he wouldn't fail to be there for him this time.

As the approached the lake, Julius nodded, and checked that the lightsabers were secure and able to be drawn at a moments notice, but did not ignite or pull them yet. Though sensory powers were not his strong point, such as he possessed were strained to the maximum, though it was like listening for a pin drop in the midst of a symphony with all the Dark Side interference this place gave off.

"Lead then... I've got your back Darius... But remember, caution and intelligence first... We'll gain nothing by rushing in and dying or being gravely injured. Your men need us to keep our wits..."

[member="Darius"] | [member="Rovasus Vonstrogg"] | [member="Abraxas"]
 
Abraxas stared down the bleeding, broken Captain with his blade raised just above his chest. The monstrosity had changed quite a bit, evolved even. From the day it was conceived in a laboratory to the first moment it went into combat. A menace was born unto the galaxy and heralded itself as the Butcher King's essence. What it failed to realize was how freakish and disturbed its mind was, how untamed the nature of its philosophy was or just how disgustingly lacking it was in the areas concerning morals or remorse. There was no heart to be found or any trace of a real personality or conscious. There was only mechanical process and insanity. "You will die, Captain. Did you know that? I want you to feel what it's like to let your memories go before I consume them for eternity. Just like all the others I've killed." Suddenly Abraxas could feel another presence besides the cess-pool of Dark Side energies on the planet. "I heard you when you were begging for help, Captain. I wanted them to come too so you could all die together. I'm being merciful."

Abraxas took the blade away and faced the direction of the intrusion.

He waited for them.

He wanted their flesh to rend, their minds broken.

[member="Darius"], [member="Julius Sedaire"]
 
For once, Darius took his master's advice. He came to slow walk, probing the lake for Rovasus' ever-fading essence. The man was dying, that much he knew. He'd been trained by his various teachers to rely on a sense of calm in these kind of situations, yet all he felt was terror, anxiety, and fear. Was he too late? Was Rovasus beyond the point of saving?

His thoughts were dashed away when he caught site of the hulking armored figure at the edge of the lake. More importantly, the broken, bloodied body laying near his feet.

No.

Darius broke into a dead sprint. He had nothing by way of cover, and there was no room for surprise here. Abraxas could see him coming, and Darius was okay with that. This beast wasn't placing another finger on his men; not his commander. His blade swept out far to his right. Blue eyes narrowed with determination. The padawan launched high up into the air with the aid of the force, coming down to try and bisect the armored behemoth in one blow.

"Get away from him!" The words tore formed all on their own. His gaze momentarily shifted to Rovasus mid-fall. Not another finger.

[member="Abraxas"], [member="Julius Sedaire"], [member="Rovasus Vonstrogg"]
 
Darius charged forward, leaping forward and swinging his blade. Very flashy, very emotional and unplanned. Lightsaber combat, at it's core, wasn't particularly enabled by raw passion at the least. There was a need for passion, sure, but focused and pointed, applied in a tight center. But he had trained Darius well in combat. It was one of the few Jedi arts he excelled at really, beyond all else. Very few he had met could match him on his best form. And Darius had been testing himself in the world, learning to be his own Jedi, and more importantly his own man. Julius would pull a lightsaber from his belt, spinning it as he ignited it.

There was no particular motion or movement, and the MP1 whipped into his hand with a telekinetic after-thought almost, snapping off a trio of shots aimed at the left ankle of the armored behemoth his Padawan was charging. First thing was first, get to the injured man. Get him out of harms reach, if possible, or at the least confirm if he was alive, or how much time they had. In combat like this, it was best to be sparing with the Force, and to use it just enough, like sprinkling a potent spice over a delicate dish. Too much, and you ruined it to in-edibility. Too little, and it fell flat and you failed just as badly.

"Hold stance...! "

The command was a short one, and it could mean many things to whoever was listening, but the brief shout was meant for Darius, who would know the intent immediately. Hold Stance - Fight defensively, keep his attention busy while I do something. And he did, sprinting and taking a leap to skid almost like a baseball player right next to Rovasus and immediately reach out his sense to detect any life. It was there, but faint, and the Corellian grimaced. What had been done was well beyond his mediocre abilities, and it was apt to be for the best if he didn't perform an emergency move to evac the trooper. So he stood and faced Abraxas, adopting a patient guard that echoed the blending of style he fought most often in - Makashi mixed with a sprinkling of Ataru.

Calm radiated from him as he stood, lightsaber one handed and arcing over his shoulder in an elegant one handed grip, the tip towards his foe, and the MP1 grasped in his off hand, waiting for a shot or an opening. This was Darius' fight, and good or ill he had to give the lad the chance to stand alone. He was fast coming of the age and abilities that, sometime soon, he would stand on his own as a Jedi Knight, and before that time came, the most important thing Julius could teach the boy was the sincerity and clarity of purpose so many lacked. And that was only learned through hard knocks and rough times, such as this. No book or lecture could teach it.

"Out and ready!"

A simple shout... It rescinded the last strategy... It meant go all out, and be ready for the Nine Hells themselves to be unleashed. Under his breath, he muttered something quite different...

"Mahn uhl Fharth bey ihn valle"



[member="Darius"] | [member="Rovasus Vonstrogg"] | [member="Abraxas"]
 
Bravery. The Padawan displayed a courage Abraxas had never seen the likes of, but it had not phased him in the slightest. Raising his sword to meet the blow of the enraged Jedi, he'd come face-to-face with the one moment where victory could mean everything. The behemoth of armor and muscle leaned in towards the young man with broad cleaves and heavy slashes while being blasted in the ankle by the secondary Jedi nearby. Abraxas' armor took most of the damage but left electronics and wiring exposed to the elements and to any other attacks that might be directed there. The monstrosity was growing more and more angry as he could feel the inevitable approaching ever-closer. What the two Jedi had not known was Abraxas' prime function when faced with extreme stress or impossible odds: Rage.

Large dosages of combat drugs coursed through the beast's veins and two hearts as he let out an ear-shattering roar. There was no longer any intelligence to be had in conversation, instead, all focus from the entity would be towards combat and mere survival. A predatory instinct kicked in and all would witness the genetics of the Butcher King surface in a display of unsurpassed malice and anger. There was no passion, there was only the desire to kill and to do so in the most surgically precise method possible. Abraxas wanted to flay their skin from their bones, all of them.

Unleashing another hellish scream, the behemoth began using pure Dark Side energy to emit waves around him to give himself some distance to ready for a different approach to this situation. Most other Jedi he had faced before were weak and even more weak-minded at that. But these two were by far the most irritating in all aspects. He could not be bested by them at any costs.

At any cost whatsoever.

If the the outburst was successful, some of monster's armor would have broken off in the process. Leaving the visage of malformed flesh and muscle to pulsate freely in the open. Abraxas was clearly a mutation of heavy Dark Side influence and science at this point, and there was no going back.
nemesis__resident_evil_3__by_r_3h-d6p5ba5.jpg
[member="Darius"] [member="Julius Sedaire"]
 
The monster was physically superior to Darius in every way. His blade crashed against lightsaber resistant metal, and the he was not fast enough to dodge the blade's second stroke. His lightsaber rose to defend, but the sheer force of the strike send him tumbling across the dirt covered ground. Still, he would not be bested so easily. Grumbling a curse under his breath, the padawan pushed up to his feet - just as [member="Abraxas"] let forth his waves of dark power.

Given the distance, Darius managed to avoid any particularly pointed damage from the attack, though he was forced to remain stationary until the display came to an end. There would be no simple attacking this creature. He would have to find another avenue to success.

Wiping some of the blood that dripped from a cut on his forehead, Darius pondered for a split second. Julius was the more experienced when it came to matters of the blade. Perhaps he could find his master an opening...

Darius called out to the force. For once, it answered. Rather than a quiet trickle, it came to him like a roaring river. He siphoned its power; gathered up the kinetic energy, and let it forth in the monstrosity's direction. The attack would not do much more than make the behemoth lose his balance, but that was what he was continuing on. Hopefully his master would capitalize off of it.

[member="Julius Sedaire"]
 
There was a moment he had to steel himself, and restrain his reaction as Darius staggered. His emotions and thoughts went out to the lad, but he restrained himself, until the moment he sought was there. After the waves of darkness had subsided, Darius had done the best he could, unbalancing the beast. Whatever it was, it was stronger the Julius intended, and he charged, letting a trickle of the Force speed his passing to preternatural levels, all the while firing wildly at the thing, hoping to keep it off kilter and unable to compensate for it's off balance state from Darius until the moment was right...

The pistol itself didn't do much against armor, but it was enough fire spread out over enough targets to maybe make one worry it just might do some damage. Mere feet from it, the pistol in his hand clicked on empty, and he simply dropped it, drawing the second blade and igniting his personal saber in a hiss of orange energy. He wasn't an expert at jar-kai, but he was practiced enough he could be more than fair at it when the need arose, though it was far from his preferred method.

Then, he did something Darius had probably not counted on. And he couldn't recall if the lad had ever seen him do. He simply let go. Will, consciousness, everything turned over to the Force, his separate self dissolving into it, as best as he could describe. All his emotion, all his thought and all his everything was fed to a single flame formed in his mind, and in that moment Julius' presence in the Force would shift from its' usual comforting Light to something... Not quite sinister, but something decidedly devoid of pretty much anything, Light or Dark.

As this shift of sorts took over, the man hurtled the orange saber in a precise throw at the aforementioned ankle as he leaped and came down to the right side of his opponent, a double handed strike right at the pauldron. Neither were designed to be particularly powerful or debilitating, but the idea was to give Abraxas enough to deal with that either he would devote his ability to defense against Julius, thereby giving Darius a clear opening, or he would hold back somewhat, and one of the two attacks would land - though to what degree was up to chance...

Truthfully, it was a test. How fast could his opponent move? What did he value, and what would he chose to protect more? Though these thoughts were not made consciously, they flitted in the back of his mind absently, like errant hushed comments one hears in the gentle lull between spikes of conversation at a party. They were 'heard', they were recogonized, but they were hardly taken in or absorbed. And they were most definitely not really given more than a fleeting moment of curiosity, if that.

[member="Darius"] | [member="Rovasus Vonstrogg"] | [member="Abraxas"]
 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4NYMnqzVDOk


Just as Abraxas thought he was about to topple the two Jedi, he found himself overwhelmed and at a potent disadvantage. His armor was far too weighted to allow him to move out of the way, leaving [member="Darius"]' attempt to knock him off balance quite the success. The behemoth was knocked to the ground, immobile for a number of reasons he was about to realize. When he and the Captain had first engaged in combat, Abraxas needed to get close. This allowed Rovasus to attach a small EMP to the backside of the monstrosity, which had just now activated due to being triggered by the use of the Force. Quite the intricate item designed by the Imperial himself for just such an occasion. He knew about Abraxas and studied his campaigns and triumphs as well as his weaknesses and his design. Even the most vile and powerful have fatal flaws.

Roaring out of desperation, the hulking mass struggled to move in his now disabled suit. Gunfire rained down upon him and broke into his chest cavity, causing a small amount of combustion and further damaging his body. The intensity of the Dark Side began to swell within the area, corrupting the ground and emitting a strong aura of death and dread. The monster's body twitched violently as his flesh began to mutate further into a shapeless entity of energy and failure, a screech pierced the open air as if the planet cried for its child of the shadow and hate.

Before another transformation could take place, [member="Julius Sedaire"] had preformed a maneuver in which he cast one of his lightsabers. What was once aimed for the ankle would now do twice the harm by completely severing his right leg, leaving a smoldering heap of fused mechanical bits and flesh. The rest of the offensive would ultimately result in Abraxas' utter defeat. Destroyed, mangled, and fooled by power, the creation sacrificed his most fluent form and agility to become something only summed up as a greed for dominance. The blood that oozed from the thing's corpse was blackened and thick from the constant abuse of combat stims and Dark Side corruption. There was nothing left to salvage in such an abomination, no soul to search for.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6PJ0Oxjc1v4​

Alas, Rovasus had ultimately out-witted what was supposed to be of supreme intelligence and cunning. The Captain lived on, but his vitals were faint and his breathing shallow. He opened his eyes and tried to move, but let out a grunt of pain to imply that his body simply refused to function at this point and was too badly damaged. "Dammit Jedi... I had him..." He laughed quietly. "Get me up... would you?"

The presence of the Dark Side had been lifted, but now joined with the planet.

The fight had been won.
 
Even the greatest monstrosities fell eventually.

Abraxas was a beast known throughout the order for hunting and killing numerous Jedi. The deaths of many prominent Knight and even a few Masters stained the behemoth's scarred hands. To see it fall was exhilarating; surmounted only by the relief that flooded the padawan shortly thereafter. Relief at the fact that he and his master lived, that Rovasus yet breathed, that the monster was destroyed.

His lightsaber made a quiet hissing noise as he doused it. Clipping the weapon to his belt, Darius approached the captain. He was no healer, but there was still something he could do for the wounded man. With a groan, he hoisted the soldier up and over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

"Quiet now, you need rest," Darius cooed, "Master, the monster...you should take its sword."

[member="Julius Sedaire"], [member="Rovasus Vonstrogg"]
 

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