Private The Imynusoph Tragedy

[Darth Ptolemis]

S O V E R E I G N

Equipment in bio.

Orange were the skies over the forests of Imynusoph.​

Massive swaths of foul particulate matter polluted the local atmosphere; the smell of charred flesh and burnt flora oozed into the air, a vomit-inducing scene unfolding somewhere on the planet's southern hemisphere. An entire village of the Imyni people was on fire; its inhabitants screaming in terror … or agony. Most simply burning alive. Interlinked shanties built into the canopies were set ablaze without warning. The offensive was absolute.

The goal was to crush the tribe's hopes abruptly and without mercy; and to corrupt the surviving few through a forbidden ritual. It ended as suddenly as it began. The small tribal community was no match against the power of the Dark Side. Deep inside the roaring, scorching-hot flames was a clearing. At its dead center, a makeshift altar of corpses. Hovering and meditating above the altar was the Dark Lord Ptolemis. His black robes draped over his crossed legs, rippling randomly to the beat of heat-induced turbulence, his emotionless mask reflecting the bright flames spreading through the forest as he levitated. Shadows of dying trees danced frantically over the gore-flushed scene, and the Sith's sitting silhouette loomed over the macabre setting.

Dozens of tortured thralls stood silently around the dark ritualist, their minds broken and bent to his will. The attempt at recreating this forsaken ritual was a success; all the Fondorian needs to do now is bask in the cruel nature of this unholy rite and wait for the ashes to settle. To wallow in this primal horror he created. To expand his mind and to reflect.

The echoes of this vile deed rippled far through the Force, and called out for answers… or justice. The remote planet of Imynusoph served as a perfect place for the Dark Side ritual, yet the Light could reach even the deepest corners of the galaxy. Whether the Masked Sith shall be allowed to depart with his mind-wiped slaves is a mystery. The mind-slaves could still be saved. The flames could still be snuffed out. The question remained; will there be someone to face the darkness? To turn the tide of pain?

As the Masked One's telepathic mind bloated around the planet, an unknown presence flashed suddenly over his mind's eye.

Elpsis Kerrigan

The Masked One opens his eyes.​

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Darth Ptolemis
Gear: Armour, Shotgun, Pistol, Lightsabre, grenades, hold-out bolter, wrist weapon.

The land itself was tainted. Dying trees danced in the wind. The sky above was red with fire and the air was clogged with ash. Broken bodies were strewn across the ground. And above all hung the dark taint. Elpsis felt it keenly. The all too familiar miasma of energy in the Dark Side. A cry of anguish resonated through the Force.

She had been here before. Not on this world, of course, and not exactly this massacre or this particular Sith or witch or whoever the perpetrator. But she was not unfamiliar with handiwork of beings such as this one. After a while the bloodlands blurred into one. One lost the capacity to be shocked. All that was left was cold anger.

Imynusoph was a backwater planet on the fringes of space. The Forge had been close, but even so she'd only managed to bring part of her second squad. "Sith are as Sith are. Another community burnt, another land despoiled, for naught but vanity," Nydris remarked bitterly. Disgust was written across the Miraluka's pale features. Her vestigial eye sockets were covered by a strip of cloth. "Time to find another mad dog and put it down. I sense great despair."

A deceptively human looking droid moved quietly alongside her. The deception was manifold, for it was an HRD, controlled by a Shard. Xir name was Sardius. "I do not understand this wanton destruction. Its purpose to take life to the benefit only of one is not logical," xe said. Confusion was evident in xir voice. But then resolution filld it. "It is clearly the actions of a diseased spirit...and it must be cleansed."
"The Sith do this for power. Power over people. We'll take their head," Broowsk grunted. The translation device gave the Wookiee a cheery feminine voice so at odds with her words. She held a bowcaster in hand. Being a Wookiee, she didn't wear full armour, but had donned a cuirass, gauntlets, greaves, vambraces, pauldrons and a helmet. "Blasted heat," she muttered irritably, calling upon the ice inside her to make the scorching heat more bearable.

"Be on your guard. We must be close," Elpsis grunted. Her viciously scarred features were hidden behind a fully enclosed helmet. "Remember the mission. First priority is putting a stop to whoever did this. Second saving who's left."
"If any are," Sergeant Hazani Jai Bysara remarked cynically, if perhaps realistically. "Truly these Sith are as depraved as the worst Xio."
"Then we avenge them," Elpsis stated.
Hazani glanced towards her superior. "During the Holy War, my mother came across a Qadiri town that had been despoiled by the Xio. But the few Qadiri who lived were not themselves anymore. She gave them Kashara's mercy."
"You mean killed them," Sardius said quietly.
"We do what we must." Scorching hot flames raged ahead of them. Elpsis drew upon them to absorb the blazing heat, sensing Hazani do the same. Fire was fuel.

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

S O V E R E I G N

Equipment in bio.

Elpsis Kerrigan

The Masked One floated down toward the ground, his feet touching the earth below gently.​

All around him the inferno still raged. He looked to his left, then to his right, seeing the emotionless faces of the local, broken Imyni. The flames that consumed their loved ones danced in their unblinking eyes. Lord Ptolemis then turned his gaze back ahead, at which point the droves of mind-slaves began marching toward the unexpected signatures – for most bore the mark of the Force.

The slaves walked straight through the fire, telepathically controlled by the twisted Sith towering over his altar of corpses. Each member of the mind-wiped group began taking up an encircling positon as they walked steadily through the burning trees, unflinching even when their own bodies caught fire.

What the newcomers were presented with was a horrific sight; drone-like natives emerged from the inferno, walking steadily, silently. As the mindless slaves got closer to their targets, so did their pace quicken; each broken Imyni attempted to widen the circular formation they have been ordered to assume as they charged the newcomers. As soon as the charge began, terrifying, grim whispers began slithering from beyond the roaring flames. The whispers beckoned the strongest of them toward the heart of the inferno.

A terrible burden of the Dark Side weighed down on the atmosphere.

A foreboding presence announced itself. ​

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Darth Ptolemis

The mouth of hell opened, releasing a torrent of scorching flames. But it was not only hellfire the mouth spat out, but living beings, too. The Imyni were a proud, peaceful society. But their minds had been taken from them, and now they were warped and twisted. There were no 'savage' war cries or similar. No demonic wails. That might have, in a way, been less unsettling than the sight that greeted the five Firemane soldiers.

For the Imyni advanced in complete silence, moving like puppets pulled by invisible strings. Not a sound escaped them, not even among those of them whose bodies were ignited by the flames by summoned by their master. If need be, they would charge over the bodies of their dead brethren and sistren.

"Ma'am, these beings are not themselves. Not even the most fanatical would throw themselves at the enemy so carelessly," Sardius observed. Xir high-powered repeater was levelled at the charging natives, but xe seemed hesitant. "Is there a way to free them?"
"We do not have the time. They're too far gone," Hazani insisted, sword in hand. The energies of the Force caused her blade to gleam brightly, for it was enchanted.
"Nydris?" Elpsis grunted, wincing slightly when she felt the whispers brush against her mind. Through the Force, she perceived a dark void, at the heart of the conflagration of flames. Some of the mind-slaves had began to hurl flaming spears at them. Drawing upon the Force, the three soldiers raised a shield.

Stretching out with her powers, the Miraluka tried to touch their minds, following the threads that bound them. But then she winced as if physically in pain, recoiling. "I can't break it. I sense the Sith. They are puppets."
"Put them down like rabid Kinrath," Broowsk growled, pulling Nydris down into cover as projectiles were hurled their way.

Blood dripped from Elpsis' armpit when the shield faltered and a projectile found a weak spot. "Fire," was all she said. I'm sorry. "Stick together." She heard Sardius' repeater roar as it unleashed a small hellstorm upon the charging mind-slaves, and she saw a bolt from Broowsk' bowcaster physically throw a possessed Imyri through the air and slam them into the ground.

"Azali, I call upon your sacred flame!" Hazani's enchanted blade ignited in a blaze of flame, setting a charging Imyni alight with a stroke. Nydris melded their efforts together as she became a conduit of energy, giving them focus and coordination. And Elpsis harnessed the scorching heat that permeated the air. Mind-slaves burnt in the inferno, as she pushed her way forward. "I'm going after the head of the snake."

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

S O V E R E I G N

Equipment in bio.

Elpsis Kerrigan

​

From within the calm patch in the inferno, the Masked One listened.

Through the senses of his mind-slaves he registered vague information about the intruders; like silhouettes on a paper curtain. Yet their eyes he did not possess yet. Only their minds.

He did not have enough time to fully take over his test subjects. Hatred began to boil within him, which, in turn he projected outward to his servants. Only simple commands could be transmitted at this point. Their generalized positioning, and whether to stand still like statues, or surge forward like the flames that scorched their homelands. What the Masked One knew for sure was that the intruders were no mere mercenaries or pirates. The numbers of his minions were dwindling immensely fast – and worse yet, by far the strongest signature in the Force had begun moving towards him. He severed the telepathic connection, and left the subjugated Imyni to fend for themselves. This… Force user, perhaps a Jedi, perhaps not – foreshadowed enough of a challenge as to take it seriously.

His mind's eye zoomed back toward his own position. The noise of the incredible heat around him reemerged in his ears, and his frustration grew. Who found out about him so fast? Who betrayed him?

It could only have been the Force.​

His long cape draped heavily onto the ground, its edges frayed and dirty. From within the overlong folds of his robes he took a smoke grenade, a tool he rarely used anymore; but one that held potential in a situation where there was no real cover. He hid it behind the layers of fabrics covering his body and waited for his opponent to emerge from the fury of the inferno.

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Darth Ptolemis
Gear: Armour, Shotgun, Pistol, Lightsabre, grenades, hold-out bolter, wrist weapon.

The battlefield was a blazing inferno. Elpsis heard the howl of the wind that spread the fire. She felt the sheer heat of the blazing flames. She heard the clash of steel and the whine of blaster fire as her comrades fought against the onslaught. She saw the Imyni throw themselves at her comrades with reckless abandon, their minds stripped of coherent thought.

Elpsis followed the threads of the Force. She had confidence in her comrades. They could weather the storm. She would seek out its eye. Inferno sliced deep through an Imyni's arm, causing the mind-slave to drop from the sheer agony. But even so the servitor tried to bite and claw at her. Wrenching the blade upwards, Elpsis kicked her cybernetic foot into the enslaved tribesman's face, before stomping on his head.

There, she heard Nydris' voice resonate inside her mind. Behold. All threads led back to the dark influence at the epicentre of the conflagration. Elpsis' helmet was fully enclosed. It lacked fancy vision modes such as infrared to cut through the flames and the thick clouds of smoke that arose as a consequence of the inferno. Moreover, she was blind. But that didn't matter since she used the Force to see, allowing her to see past obstructions. And so she walked through the flames, as they licked and singed at her armour. And she soaked up the heat. It surged through her body like wild fire. It all fed the fireball that manifested in her hand, and she hurled it towards the presence of the Sith Master.

Hazani's sword was ablaze with fire as she clove through Imyni, burning with every strike. The burning intensity of her hazel eyes matched the firestorm around her. A blade found a gap inside her armour, drawing blood. She grunted in pain and kicked her foe before cutting them down. Yanking the blade out, it caught flame in her grasp and she hurled it into the fray.

Sardius' repeater fashioned a hell of its own with every salveo expelled by the gun, and then became an improvised club when the Imyni got too close. A mind-slave left xir something to remember it in form of broken teeth when it tried to chow down on a solid durasteel hand. Smoke coiled from the Shard's scorched HRD body.

Their efforts were woven together by Nydris. But an Imyni pounced her, knocking the Miraluka down and pinning her to the ground. Furiously, her foe clawed at her face and tore into her neck with his teeth. Blue-white lightning shrieked from her hands. Her foe screeched in pain, trying to strangle her to stop the torrent that scorched flesh. Then suddenly he was grabbed by Broowsk and hurled into a tree. The Wookiee roared loudly, her fur having been partly set aflame. She drew moisture from the air, harnessing it to give shape to a small, cold wind.

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

S O V E R E I G N

Equipment in bio.

Elpsis Kerrigan

​

Deprived of the knowledge he had access to while still psychically tethered to the enslaved Imyni, now the Masked One was alone, in a clearing, his ship a few clicks south of his position, safe from the engulfing flames; but also out of reach, should he find himself surrounded, or worse.

What happened next was such a unique turn of events, even the Force could not foretell it adequately. A knightly presence strode through the flames as if it were nothing; her singed armor undoubtedly heating up, yet the strict presence simply marched through the inferno. Not only did she approach the Sith Lord on her own prerogative, she also initiated an attack - without monologues or meaningless banter. The corrupted Fondorian immediately recognized that this encounter will be unlike anything he had been in before, and if he was honest to himself, he was impressed by her straightforward tactic.

The fireball cast by the Warrior of the Flame was large and uncompromising. The statuesque Lord reacted quickly and his open palm snapped at the incoming fireball in order to conjure a force barrier to soak the dragon's breath, yet the surprise of facing a wielder of the elements hindered his efforts greatly. The ball of fiery wrath impacted hard with the invisible wall and Ptolemis' extended arm, swallowing the initial force of the collision; but it wasn't enough. Amid noise similar to that of breaking glass, the invisible layer shattered and the fiery incantation continued on its path, burning the dark robes of the abyssal ascendant and embracing him fully. He stumbled backwards, reeling from the suprise and the pain that came with the attack, and quickly dashed a few meters away from his opponent in order to bring his lightsaber to life and cut away the burning pieces of fabric around his body.

As soon as he ceased his frantic movements and relieved himself from his burning clothes, a growing shadow began to slither on the ground, away from him, toward the direction of his opponent. He stood still, crimson lightsaber humming in his right hand. His mask remained on his face, but now that his robe was gone, his equipment became visible. The man began to piece the bigger picture together, and felt it useless to deploy the smoke grenade he had been holding onto. What good could it do against a Fire Witch? He thought.

His voice was emotionless, yet terrifying. Its echoes deeper each time they glanced off of the walls of the mind. A foreboding feeling woven into the fabric of his tone, as if speaking a forbidden tongue.

An elementalist?

Intriguing...

I take it the flames have summoned you here?

Do you have a name, witch?​

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Darth Ptolemis

She perceived the shimmering barrier of the Force suddenly manifest to shield the Sith. Nonetheless, the fireball hit home to a degree, knocking him back and setting his robes alight. But the Sith swiftly rose again, discarding the burning robes, lightsabre in hand. And around them the flames continued to rage unabated. She stepped towards him.

It was then that she heard his voice resonate in her mind. Void of emotion, but cruel. It echoed loudly, abusing her ears as it thundered inside her mind. The thunderous noise made her wince. It also caused a stab of annoyance. Sithy loves to talk. Figures, she thought caustically.

However, her attention was diverted from the Sith as she heard a fathomless shadow slithering across the ground, moving swiftly towards her. Elpsis did not know what manner of creature it was, but it was born of the Force, which was why she could perceive it in the first place. And it originated from the Sith.

Assuming it to be a construct or demon of some sort, she called upon her inner flame, letting the energies of the Force flow through Inferno. It was, in most respects, a standard lightsabre with the bells and whistles common for this era. Except for the fact that it was enchanted and bonded to her, enabling it to damage Force constructs, apparitions and the like in the manner a Force-Imbued Blade would. As the shadow approached, she swung the burning yellow lightsabre.

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

S O V E R E I G N

Equipment in bio.

Elpsis Kerrigan

A yellow blade erupted from her ornate lightsaber, flashing a slice through the crawling shadows.​

She wielded the cleansing properties of fire – able to project it into her slash. The shadows abated, their whispers flaring up, but quickly diminishing in volume again, only to dissipate entirely from the scene for now.

The warrior lady did not talk – so be it. The Sith Lord mirrored her silence and let his saber do the talking for him. For the Profaned Crystal in his saber never truly rested. Its whispers an entropic, ever shifting tide of madness. Sometimes the whispers disappeared, but returned from behind a corner, or rained down from the clouds. Either way, its blasphemous offensive would soon continue. A slow, brooding discharge of dread seeping from the shadows.

In a jarring move Ptolemis raised his free arm, and bowing to his chains in the Force, the Imyni corpses that constituted the altar at the center of the clearing suddenly levitated – and as the dark lord motioned with vigor toward the Shaper of Fire, so did the lifeless advance begin.

A dozen bodies hurtling with great vengeance through the air, on a path to collide with the armored figure ahead.

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Darth Ptolemis

Jedi - or at least some of them - were fond of engaging their dark foes in banter. Sometimes just to trade taunts and barbs, at other times because they fooled themselves into thinking that Dark Lords and their ilk were just one pep talk away from turning a new leaf. As if their foes were scared children in need of a hug. As if that could wash away the evil they had done. Elpsis was no Jedi. The Lifeweb had charged her to smite evil.

The dark whispers assailed her mind, trying to slip through her defences like malicious tendrils aiming to drag her down into a sea of madnes. She winced in pain. It took concentration to retain focus, but she did. She had faced torture; she had lost her very identity. It was, however, distracting. And then the storm of corpses began.

Abruptly she had to switch focus. A blast of invisible energy knocked a few off course. Inferno sliced through a body soaring towards her, cleaving it in twain. And then there was agony when a body slammed into her head. Her helmet could blunt the impact, but not more. She tasted the coppery tang of blood on her tongue. She fell, red viscera dripping down her bruised and bleeding forehead.

Her head was spinning, pain shooting through her as she was left disorientated. She tried to get up and a corpse slammed into her torso, knocking her back. Amidst the sharp crack of a cracked rib, another body struck her. Her shoulders ached. With an angry growl, she pushed the corpse that had pinned her down away.

The damaged rib caused a cough to emit from her throat and there was a sharp stab of pain in her chest. Her white eyes flared. Her cybernetic arm glowed red-hot, wreathed in flame. And the fire inside her became a weapon once more, as she fashioned a thermic lance and sent the beam of blazing heat soaring towards the Sith's masked face.

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

S O V E R E I G N

Equipment in bio.

Elpsis Kerrigan

​

The Masked One's steps left impressions in the ash-coated clearing as he walked toward the armored Force-wielder, red saber ignited, arm extended. The flow of bodies continued despite her efforts to repel them, and in short notice, she fell under the necrotic barrage.

– Do you have a name, witch? – A slight shade of curiosity painted the Darth's tone as he took two more steps. He lowered his arm, seeing no movement from the lady ahead. She may be hurt, but she is definitely still alive. He stops and gazes proudly over the field littered with bodies.

The Masked One drew in another breath to speak, but before he could address the witch, she sprang from her cover of bodies, and subsequently, her robotic arm spectacularly lit up with fire. Ptolemis truly marveled at such a unique display of Force manipulation – this person was truly a Witch of Fire. A master of the flame. 'Impressive.'

Her quick moves soon produced a spear of fire, one that darted at him. Not having enough time even to flinch, this infernal projectile impacted with vengeance with his mask. He first felt the flash of numbing pain searing through the cracks forming across his mask. After that, he blacked out for a few seconds.

The impact and the fiery explosion threw his head back, and he himself now fell on his back.

When he came to, he felt pain rippling across his head, fiery talons scraping across his skin. A couple of blinks later, he emerged onto his knees and took in another breath. Panting, trembling with anger, the Sith Lord's face was, for the first time in years, exposed again for somebody other than his master to see.

​

Yet his face now even his master Dimitri Voltura wouldn't recognize. His eyes survived the heat thanks to his mask, but his features were now a scarred blur of macabre tonality. His mask shattered to pieces, his hood burnt away. He got on his feet, unclipped his cloak, which fell on the ground.

You will PAY for this.​

Fueled by both unending pain and anger, The Sith Lord darted forth at inhuman speeds and unleashed a tempest of slashes, primarily aimed at his opponent's upper torso, then attempted a follow-up kick at one of her shins.

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Darth Ptolemis

Elpsis' bruised lips curled into a smile. She would have felt more satisfaction were it not for the fact that breathing in air caused her to wheeze and cough up some blood, courtesy of a cracked rib. But the Sith Lord raised himself up. The rage surging through him was palpable, and he charged, moving at a speed so fast it seemed like a blur.

Elpsis angled Inferno in a defensive position. She didn't move an inch until it was almost too late. Then all of her sudden, her organge blade moved up as she swiflly sidestepped to turn the crimson blade to the side. The next blow was not long in coming, then the next and the next. Heavy impacts rained down upon her furiously. Their laser swords seared and cried. It was a terrible song of unyielding energy searing and seething with a great hiss.

Where she could she dodged. If she could not, she parried, yielding ground as she tried to keep up a flexible defence. A strike that hammered her torso heated up the breastplate, but was mercifully blocked by the Phrik armour plating. The strength of her cybernetic arm helped her intercept the Sith's strikes, but each strike turned away made her organic shoulder ache. Pain shot through her chest, caused by her agitated rib. And she was a moment too late, enabling the Sith to break through her guard.

And the blade slid under a Phrik plate covering her left arm. White-hot agony surged through her and she cried out in pain. Her right forearm was a thoroughly charred mess. She could forget about holding anything in her right hand for a while. Smoke coiled from her armour. The shock and the hard kick to the shin caused her blade to fall out of her right hand. She staggered, narrowly keeping herself from falling as her cybernetic foot dug into the ground, anchoring her. The burning cracks in her face glowed brightly.

Her cybernetic arm glowed red-hot. Heat surged through it like wild fire, as it fed on her pain to feed its power. Lunging with a roar, she threw a vicious punch towards his already injured face with her burning fist. Then a telekinetic tug grabbed ahold of her discarded lightsabre and pulled it into her cybernetic grasp. Wielding it in the implacable grasp of robotic fingers, she slashed powerfully and furiously at the Sith, hoping to cleave through him.

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

S O V E R E I G N

Equipment in bio.

Elpsis Kerrigan

​

His hatred flared with each booming clash, each flash of laser discharge. His hairless, charred facial features a manifestation of body horror. His upper clothes a mish-mash of torn fabrics. His neck caked with lines of blood.

In contrast, the armored, cybernetically enhanced warrior dashed, dodged and parried like a seasoned veteran of a war long past. Her swings charged with purpose. Her stance a monument to defiance, despite her suffering injuries as well. Their joint movements rippled the flames around them, their slashes moved air so powerfully that they snuffed out burning trees in their wake. It was a fight both shall remember forever. Just as Ptolemis performs an evasive backwards roll on the ground and snaps his gaze up at his opponent, he is overwhelmed by yet another colossal tide of pain; a flaming fist right into his face.

The pain is indescribable at this point.​

Cartilage, sinew and melted skin tissue spews in all directions around the cybernetic fist's impact zone. The corrupted Fondorian's nose effectively vanishes as a result of the swift counterattack by the Fire Witch. A guttural roar erupts from his throat, coating the sky with oppressive dread as he stumbles backward, but where a noble Jedi would announce a sermon, the brutally practical Witch attacking the Sith Lord rightly seizes his weak moment and presses her barrages of attacks hard.

And so her first swing descended rapidly. The haphazard, trembling steps of the wounded Lord could never produce enough distance between them. His eyes still closed, his free hand still shielding the crater where his nose was. The Witch's lightsaber fell and carved a large, vertical searing cut right down his abdomen; had it not been for his duraplast chestplate, he would have perished. His only piece of armor was good enough to shield him from one lightsaber attack, but no more. His options were dwindling.

That was the tipping point. Ptolemis' rage boiled over the pain, and he embraced the anger that was being fueled by the punishment he received, and in an unexpected, abrupt shift his face darkened, his stance tensed, his left foot pivoted back and hooked into the ashen ground, and he brought down his own saber to intercept the Witch's second, upward slash; gripping the black, bloody hilt of his profaned lightsaber with both hands, he deliberately aimed to force a lightsaber lock.

His goal wasn't to best her in lightsaber combat; his goal was to unleash his pain. His eyes, now a uniform pool of blood, pierce ahead to meet his opponent's. If the lock is established, Ptolemis' destroyed face fixates upon that of the elementalist, and bursts ablaze with his own form of fiery vengeance.

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Darth Ptolemis

By now she was very much in pain. Her right forearm was a charred mess. No broken bone there, but thoroughly cooked flesh. Taking a breath caused sharp sensation of pain to shoot through her chest, like being stabbed by a knife. Her head still hurt. But her burning fist hit home, and the blazing blade of Inferno left a searing cut across the Sith's abdomen, though his armour denied her the killing blow. She struck anew, launching a brutal downward slash. But as Inferno descended orange was met by red as their blades clashed.

Elpsis grunted as the Sith managed to force a bladelock. With her cybernetic arm she was stronger, but she had only one functioning hand and simply moving agitated her cracked rib. Her cybernetic leg heated up. She raised it and brought it crashing down upon his foot in order to stomp on it. It was supposed to not only overcome the lock, but break his foot.

But this also gave the Sith time to launch is attack. A searing beam of darkside energy burst from his broken face. There was no time to dodge. The beam struck her helmet at point-blank range. The helmet was made of Phrik, but the metal did not just begin to heat up upon contact with the searing ray of heat, but melt. Smoke coiled from her helmet. The interior padding was burning away and the wild fire seeped into the skin beneath, burning viciously. Skin was melting away. She could feel herself cooking in her armour. The smell of burnt flesh - hers - invaded her nostrils.

She fell, crying out in pain and rage as white-hot agony surged through her. The energies of the Force, powered by her pain and the heat she tried to siphon off, rippled through her. She threw her pain and fury back at him. A charring wave of flame swept towards the Sith, meaning to consume or at least blow him away.

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

S O V E R E I G N

Equipment in bio.

Elpsis Kerrigan

​

The shriek of the interlocked kyber-fueled blades drowned out all other noises. The ball of light at the point of the sabers' contact illuminated the disfigured head of the corrupted Fondorian. In its horrid state, his visage was utterly terrifying. Through his life-long pursuit of understanding the meaning of consciousness, his own face became the haunting mirror of all the deeds of sentient life in an ironic turn of fate.

It was only the Witch of Fire, Ptolemis, the heat and the pain present. Her single cybernetic arm held up against Ptolemis' angered two-handed exertion on the saber lock, and right when she would attempt to crush his foot, did he unleash the power of the Dark Side through his eyes.

Her face he could not see under the helmet, but he knew that no matter what material barriers stand between his hatred and the destruction of his opponent, the Dark Side finds a way to corrupt, to cause absolute devastation.

Like colossal waves the Dark Side poured from Ptolemis' soul. A tempest of passion and overwhelming power. His eyes flared up in a mix of orange and neon purple. Everything except for the armor-clad Witch in his field of vision disintegrated into fine powder. A line was cut into the already burning forest, a disturbing devastation conjured in merely a couple of seconds.

Cracks began to form all over Ptolemis' exposed skin as he channeled the Bogan itself. From this moment on, he shall never be the same.

Her cry of pain a flash of ecstasy amid the monumental clash, the Fondorian pushed his attack even more, attempting to overpower and sever her head right then and there. She fell on her knees, but held on. He could taste the victory. But this setting served her very well. He knew nothing about the nameless guardian, but deep down felt that she was some sort of harbinger of flame. Perhaps a herald of nature, or an avenger of the downtrodden. Perhaps all, perhaps none. What mattered was their momentous battle. It wasn't often that the Darth met someone who equaled his might.

Right when she would break, she produced a fiery shockwave through her arm so grandiose that he could not resist. His spirit had been spent. The dark sight drained all life from him.

His body plowed into the burning forest behind him. His impact with a burnt-out tree could not be heard, however, as the fire around them raged on. He barely brought himself upright. His clothes were completely burnt off. Severe burns crawled all over his naked body. All that remained was his lightsaber.

He shot a final glance back at his opponent, then in a flash of crimson cut a tree in half and pushed it toward the Witch of Fire – but only to buy time. He swore to meet her again. But for now, he was defeated. He shall sacrifice even more of his humanity to sink deeper into the forbidden arcane knowledge of the Dark Side. He shall do many deeds still, but for now, he needed to retreat to his ship and leave the planet.

After all, his mission was a success. He was able to internalize the mind-altering incantation he performed on the local Imyni.

And if he could perform it on the Imyni, he could perform it on anyone in the future.​

Ptolemis launched the pre-programmed sequence of his flight computer and collapsed in his cockpit, wrapped in bacta-soaked bandages and overflowing with adrenaline stims. The day was done, but his thirst for vengeance shall soon be born anew. A foreboding telepathic message he left upon the winds of Imynusoph for the Witch to find before he departed for good.

Well done, Witch.

We shall meet again.​

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Darth Ptolemis

She was fire. An incandescent inferno.

And very much in pain.

Still she stood, channelling all the power she could muster to summon a fiery shockwave that smashed into the Sith sorcerer with relentless fury and sent him flying. She breathed in deeply, wincing in pain. Her face and back were baked in sweat. Her rib ached.

She could still dimly perceive the Sith in the distance. But then a tree was hurled towards her. Elpsis managed to duck aside as it was sent soaring towards her. However, as she hit the dirt, she did not emerge entirely unscathed. The tree missed her, but her legs were trapped beneath one of the branches, the old growth trying to bury her.

The discharge of weapons' fire could be heard amidst the crackling of flames. Brainwashed Imyni were driven back when Hazani drew upon the flaming wind to scatter them ere they could close in on her trapped superior. Elpsis struggled to break free from her confinement, then suddenly the large, hefty branch was lifted off along with the tree.

As Broowsk and Sadrius held up the tree, Nydris took her hand and helped her up. "Your organic form has sustained substantial damage and requires repair," Sardius blandly informed her. There were big holes in the Shard's HRD body. Part of xir's face had been blown off, exposing the metal that lay beneath the synthflesh.

Broowsk's fur was partly burnt, but she held the tree up. "You look...how are you still alive? Need help walking?"
"No. I'll manage," Elpsis' voice was hoarse. She stood, albeit a bit shakily. "Status?"
"The damned have been slain," Hazani reported crisply. Her armour was scorched and coated in blood. She was looking at Elpsis very intently, staring into the broken helmet, the partly burnt face and the glowing embers etched into her flesh. "The dark one got away."
"I have some theories about his spell," Nydris commented. She looked at Elpsis thoughtfully. "You became very bright in the Force. Like a nova."
"Tell me about it later." Elpsis felt the alien presence touch her mind. And then I'll kill you, she responded flatly before shutting him out.