Invasion The Other Side of Peace | GA Invasion of TSE's Ziost/Tiss'sharl

[Ripley Kühn]

:// Faintly, I'll go //:
:// POST I | NEW ADASTA //:
:// ALLIES: GA //:
:// ENEMIES: TSE | Thorald Magnusson //:
:// EQUIPMENT: ARMOR | LIGHTSABER | HOLOLINK | SLICER GEAR //:​

​

Code flew down the screen as Ripley keyed in various commands, attempting to circumvent the security measures. Her fingers were a flurry across the device. Focused solely on the prospect of bringing down comms, she almost missed the faint sound of the door opening. Her head flew to the side. Glancing over her shoulder, a brief moment of panic ensued as her eyes met that of the armored man. She needed to complete this mission. Any interruption took away the precious seconds as the battle waged on outside, their naval units relying on her. ​

"Chit," The knight cursed.​

She plucked a small chip from the pouch at her side. More glances were thrown back as she fought time itself, praying the enemy didn’t strike her down. She fumbled with the slicing unit, shoving the skinny piece of hardware into the unit port, and clicking upload. ​

​

<Please remember, I fully expect a proper download before the dismantling. Information before utter destruction.> ​

"Sorry, Director." She muttered. The knight hoped her mysterious boss would understand her lack of choice.​

With one hand, she put the unit down, the other reaching for her lightsaber. Actions flashed before her eyes that hadn’t yet been taken. The zeltron spun on her heels, raising her arm, blade igniting to meet the enemy’s sword. Ripley grunted as she pushed against his, inches from her torso. ​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Gaze shifted from Auteme and Lucien to the Jedi who had been a few seconds ago laying near his feet, incapable of movement due to his injuries. Now the young lad sprung up like a marionette tugged by its strings, the Force pulling and yanking his limbs into action. The hate which spilled out from the Padawan was bright and fierce, worthy of a Sith's, but it was undisciplined and wild. The lad did not have the training to control his emotions and so they ran wild through him, unconstrained by any measure of control. But there was one thing that the Jedi did control.​

​

The direction of his hate; and all of it was focused squarely on Carnifex.​

​

All the burning pain which had washed over Auteme and Lucien abated the moment that Carnifex turned his attention from them to Kisaku, the power he had summoned dissipating without him to direct it. The Jedi's amethyst blade sprung into life with a sizzling snap-hiss, a crackling promise of anger. Carnifex's own lightsaber slipped eagerly into his hand, crimson blade reaching out to connect with Kisaku's the moment that he young Jedi struck out at him. Purple crackled against red for a few dazzling moments before Carnifex directed the Jedi's blade away before he pushed into the offensive.​

​

Carnifex's form was sharp and decisive, never wasting time on flamboyant flourishes or overdramatic swings. He poured the infinite depths of his hate into every blow, the power of the Dark Side focused through him like a magnifying lens. With each blow, the young Jedi could feel only a fraction of the enormity of evil that dwelled behind the flesh and blood facade. The true scope of darkness was virtually unfathomable by the mind, monolithic in scale. Yet even these fleeting glimmers were enough to send a man spiraling into madness.​

​

They locked blades with a sizzling crash of red and purple sparks right before Auteme called out to Carnifex.​

​

"Carnifex!"​

​

He pushed against Kisaku's blade, attempting to drive the padawan back and onto the ground. His head then tilted to the side to regard the Jedi woman.​

​

"You are empty! You are nothing! Your gifts are the same!"​

​

Carnifex raised his blade in a defensive gesture, angling the tip towards Auteme as if challenging her to make her next move at her own peril.​

​

"HERE IS MY GIFT!"​

​

The particles in the air seemed to momentarily freeze as Auteme unleashed the power of the Light, the dark corners of the room becoming illuminated by the blinding light which spilled forth from her entire being. Carnifex shifted his posture and thrust out his left hand at the oncoming wave of brilliance, fingers splayed as the power of the Dark Side heeded his every desire. Bright azure flames spilled forth from his outstretched hand, filling the air with a tumultuous roar of rushing air and hungering fire as the pillar of flame rushed forth to meet the wall of light. Instead of warming the air around them, the flames seemed to draw in warmth and replace it with absolute cold; the nearby furniture and fixtures accumulating a thin sheen of frost.​

​

Light and fire collided together in the open air, splashing out from the point of impact to smash against the walls, ceiling, and floor. To sustain the blazing inferno, Carnifex was required to keep his left arm outstretched towards the direction he wanted the flames to go. ​

​

It left his arm tantalizingly vulnerable.​

​

Auteme | Lucien Dooku | Kisaku Oroken ​

 

[Thorald Magnusson]

Location: Orbital Center
Equipment: Here
Allies: Other Space Kaiden
Enemies: Allyson Locke | Ripley Kühn

His eyes stared down at the woman as he sliced down, her sword pressing against her lightsaber as he pressed against her, using his weight to force the blade down towards her, grunting with the effort as he furrowed his brow. He felt a movement come from the Jedi in front of him as she used all her might to thrust up at him. forcing him to pull back and roll behind, landing on his knees he looked up and stood. His vibrosword swing in his hand as he readied hismelf in front of Ripley.

"Ugh you forking Alliance and your Jedi, I just wanted to have a normal day fighting people that can't chuck me across the room with their mind thank you."

Ranulf scoffed as he eyed the woman. His helmet obscuring his appearance as he faced the woman taking a deep breath as he scanned the room quickly looking for an idea of what to do. She definitely had the advantage as a one on one. He had to think fast. His fingers grabbed a SYC Smoke Grenade from his belt as he chucked it at the woman, the smoke erupting from it as it hit her filling her face with smoke as he moved into the cover of the smoke moving around his combatent. Attempting to sneak up behind her through the cover that he had granted himself.

 

[Leon Gallo]

Trooper
Saber Seven
Shields at 76%

Saber Seven banked sharply, turning into the fight. Every shot he could make without hitting another Alliance pilot, he took. None hit. They did their job though, and more and more TIEs began their pursuit of the Jedi. Several more hits impacted on his shields, and the X0-2 boosted out of the dogfight, away from the other Alliance fighters.



{You are clear, Get out of here!}



{U n d e r s t o o d}



Leon dove towards Ziot’s forests below, trying to force the TIEs to disengage so he could make his own escape. They stayed on him, nearly overwhelming his shields. Despite the imminent danger, Leon stayed calm. Somehow, being on the edge of death, with only a small amount of remaining shields relaxed him. A sharp turn upwards, and the pilot’s mind was still clear. Three more hits, and still, he remained perfectly serene.

He was barely even sure he was there, as his mind was almost completely absorbed by his trance. A quick radio confirmation that the other fighters were safe, and the Jedi prepared to activate his stealth systems. Suddenly, a scream broke his serenity. Someone had cried out in the force, and Leon had felt it. It was another Jedi. Where? The Padawan began to search in the force, turning his ship towards the source. Another shot nearly broke his shields.


Leon boosted on ahead, towards the source of the scream. His stealth systems, paired with the X-wing’s insane speed, made it seem as though he’d just blinked from existence to the TIEs he’d just left.

The X-02 rocketed across Ziost. It’s pilot was following the scream he’d heard. On his scanners, a massive tower was coming up rapidly. That was where a Jedi needed help. Leon could feel it. With the Saber’s systems for improved telepathy, He could feel a dark presence there. But there was also a familiar light presence...Auteme?

There were two others with her, but Leon could sense the trio of JEdi were in danger. Whatever Sith they were fighting, he was too powerful. Only a few kilometers away…


The X-wing clipped the top of a TIE fighter. Leon’d been so focused on his goal, he hadn’t even noticed the patrolling squadron. They hadn’t noticed either, thanks to his stealth systems, but this was a problem That impact tore away the last of his particle shields. Instantly, the full force of friction hit the unprotected fighter.

Leon felt the air knocked from his lungs. Every alarm he had, some he didn’t even know about before this, were screaming at him. The intense speed was tearing away at the frame of the fighter. Sparks were already flying from the ship’s less armored portions, and the hull glowed with heat.

Not much further…

The ship’s stealth systems shut off violently, and the X-wing blinked back into view and sensors. The roar of its engines echoed over the citadel. By now, the X-02 was already burning, and the wings had been torn off. Two of the engines had begun to break up now too, though the ship’s momentum wouldn’t be stopped in time to prevent a collision with the tower.

Reaching out with the Force, Leon tried to tell the Jedi in there help was coming. He wasn’t good at it, but hopefully the communications systems were still functional. The pilot sweated profusely, the inside of the cockpit now roasting him. The forces acting upon him as the inertial dampeners failed nearly made him pass out.

Another warning light. The ejection seat wasn’t operational anymore. Leon would have to jump, praying his own momentum wouldn’t liquify his organs. With shaking hands, he undid the belts that strapped him to the seat. Forcing his body to move for each breath, the Jedi opened the canopy, with was ripped away instantly.

The sudden blast of wind forced Leon back into the seat. The roar deafened him, and the pressure forced him to close his eyes and turn his head. He had to jump. The tower approached faster than Leon could even register. WIth one last cry, he leapt.


“KYAAAA!”


His scream couldn’t be heard by anyone but him. Below, the X-wing-turned-missile smashed into the conference room. The burning nose of the fighter was pointed directly towards the Sith. Leon couldn’t see the chaos it’d inevitably cause, as his jump and momentum sent him flying towards a small ledge just above.


Leon passed out as his left arm was shattered on impact. He woke, moments, later, laying on the ledge. Every bone in his body felt like it was broken. The Padawan force himself up with his right arm--it still moved at least. Barely supporting himself on the one arm, he coughed. Blood spattered on the ground, and Leon cried out again as the sharp pain in his chest followed the cough.

He fell back down, unable to support himself any longer. His body was broken. He just lay there, staring out at Ziost's endless sky. A tear rolled down his cheek. Was he going to die here? Like this? Kark, that was stupid. What if he'd hit the three he'd tried to save? What if he'd just failed everyone again? The Padawan just lay there. Not just his body.

He was broken.

Auteme Lucien Dooku Kisaku Oroken
Darth Carnifex​

 

[Eldaah Aderyn]

Eldaah's remaining hand moved, deflecting the blaster as it channeled her Master's powers, an almost contemptuous flick of the wrist. It was a skill many Sith had demonstrated before, and those glowing purple eyes just stared at Djorn with amusement. To think he had any control over the situation at all, but then... it had been his request and her decision that had resulted in this entire affair.

The new creature that had consumed Loske had already left the cell, the cells from HX7 that mutated and evolved had still retained the knowledge of some of their progenitor's powers and she had teleported a few feet away. The death had already begun. A flick of the Force, and the blaster pistol's power pack slid out to render the weapon useless, even if he had fried the door controls. That was fine with the Lady of Secrets. She had some words for the defiant man that had once showed such promise.

"Stopping me and stopping her are beyond your capabilities," they laughed, proving her point by pinning him in place with the Force. "But Loske would not be in this position if you hadn't asked her to reach into Eldaah's mind. She warned you both, but you wouldn't listen. Too much pride, too much hatred, too much desperation to prove yourself as superior. It was all... your... fault."

The tendrils, obeying their Mistress, tightened and creeped up his arm further. They could disintegrate with a simple touch, but Taeli wanted to drag out Djorn's pain as he had done to her apprentice.

"When she is done, you'll be the only one left alive on this ship," they continued. "Wounded yes, but alive. The droids that sabotaged the ship were signed in as equipment under your name. Memories that Maynard will have seen will show you accepting an assignment from me, obtaining a package of dark liquid, showing the moment of possible infection from touching her."

Her finger curled and Djorn would be dragged to her across the cell floor, the remaining hand coming up to press against his temple in almost a caress.

"And here is the sweetest part," they whispered, "you'll never know for sure if you infected her or not because Eldaah certainly didn't. She was strapped to an interrogation table... being tortured, and Maynard would know if she had any physical contact with me. The only person she has touched since Felucia are Maynard... and you."

She could let that stew in his mind for a bit, to wonder if during his time with the Saaraishash that he had become an unknowing or knowing as the case presented by memories may be, of some mutative disease for the Jedi or even his Imperial allies. He had probably wondered why Taeli never sent anyone after him, or Jorryn hadn't send an assassin to finally rid herself of the man that irritated her so, and this was why. He thought himself free, but the Lady of Secrets was a patient woman and he still remained a pawn.

"I wonder what Maynard will have in store for you," they laughed, the tendrils tightening through now and then the mental attack would come, a needle-like probe to obfuscate his memories of before, to plant the idea deeper for Maynard or another Jedi to find, and to leave him unconscious in this cell to be found later. With that accomplished, Eldaah's form would force the door open and follow the trail of carnage left by the new Loske Treicolt. Her droids would almost be done with their tasks by now.

Djorn Bline
Loske Treicolt

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Location: Sorzus Academy of Sith Arts
Objective: Entertain
Allies: TSE
Enemies: Darth Kentarch NIO/GA

For a long moment, it would appear that the time honored tradition of the Mistress sending her minions to die against the intruder would play out, knuckles tightened on weapons, minds were hardened for the task... and yet she didn't give the command for them to attack Kentarch. Against a Jedi, they would be powerful opponents, especially with the shrine to augment them, but the guardians of the nexus were not... designed to fight against another wielder of the dark side. Something she would need to correct in the future.

"You're right, they don't have to die," she said, and she made a gesture with her hand. As one, the red shrouded guards fell away, disappearing into the gloom of the chamber. Their Mistress would have need of them elsewhere and at another time.

"I'd be very impressed if you actually knew what my plans were," she continued, turning her attention away to look at the astrium above as the dark energies of the nexus raced around and into the device. It would be a supposed time to strike for the assassin, but it was too obvious an opening. The energies above crackled with more Force born lightning, chamber flashing. "Since not even Kaine knows what they are."

Purple eyes would turn back to look at the Sith Lord.

"I very well remember the fall of the Dark Lord of the One Sith, and the disasters that plagued it that followed. You need not remind me of that history. Also a bit presumptuous that in a fight, I would be the one to fall... but there's no need for putting such a hypothetical to the test. I have no desire to fight you, Kentarch."

Above her, the astrium would hit critical mass within the ritual she unleashed and... at once, every thread of dark side energy from the nexus would be drawn into it, locked away within the orb and contained by the runes drawn on it. The Zeffo device floated back down to her hand, a portable nexus for now.

"You came here for something that doesn't involve trying to kill me as otherwise you would have already begun," she commented. "Knowledge perhaps?"

 

[Ryv]

S W O R D _ O F _ T H E _ J E D I
Galactic Alliance
New Jedi Order
Strike Team Skywalker
ARMOR | LIGHTSABER
Ripley Kühn

The Stygian Campaign: Episode II
​

Ryv awoke to an acrid stench. It hung on the air all around him, threatening to overwhelm him entirely. He struggled to push himself away, seeking an escape from the nauseating fumes. A sharp pain shot through his body the moment he even attempted to lift his right arm. His vision swam, the world flickering black as he nearly fell back into unconsciousness. Only the pain kept him going. His body ached well beyond reason. Scarlet coated the left side of his face entirely. It blocked his vision, already curdling in preparation to scab over and stop further blood loss. A better look at his right arm sent a wave of panic through him. The elbow was twisted at an awkward angle, the shoulder limp, wrist unmoving. He reached over with his other hand but thought better of it.

"Dammit," Ryv groaned, his body trembling, left hand clawing feebly at the earth. Each tug brought him further from a thick groove carved through the earth via his body's uncontrolled flight. A distant fire claimed nearby foliage, likely the causes of the smoke and ash that assailed his lungs. Tears built in his remaining eye, the pain, no, not pain. The agony far too much. For even the Sword of the Jedi could not beat back the overwhelming fear of death born of such sensations. On Ziost, surrounded by the dark side, there could be no escape. Everything he'd done, every battle he'd fought, every life he'd ended, led him to that moment.

Alone. Always alone.

The kiffar screamed. He screamed in an uncontrolled rage, one that echoed through the grove he'd awoke to. His tears spilled over, cutting a thin path through the built-up grime on his battered cheek. Death claimed so many lives. Men and women who followed him, inspired by the figure he cut. A beacon of light meant only to burn brighter before the deepest dark. Perhaps then, that was why he could no longer hold it in any longer. How long had he been alone? He watched so many he loved find the happiness he could never hope to provide. None of them needed him. He was just a soldier. A man meant to lift his weapon in the name of a war he so desperately wanted to end. No one man could bear the weight of a galaxy. The countless lives lost, the death sown in the wake of growing powers, battles fought, the friends buried, the pain... so much pain. It never ended. It just came back stronger than the last time, only it knew better where to strike him with each new encounter. It took his body from him. Wounds scored that would never disappear. It claimed his mind, threatening what little sanity he had left.

His scream turned to broken sobs, his entire body shaking uncontrollably as he struggled to breathe. It wasn't the smoke. No, he had long since dragged his way from the black smog originating from the remnants of some Sith-Imperial starfighter. Reality, or the truth of it anyway, had long since sunk into his battered mind. He told Loske years ago he would die broken and bloodied, forgotten on some battlefield, just another tattered corpse to be tossed upon the pyre. A part of him believed he'd accepted such a fate. To die a warrior, weapon in hand. There could be no greater honor. But, if that was the case, why did everything hurt so badly? Why couldn't he find peace in his final moments? His thoughts kept wandering. To places he'd never been, to people he'd surely miss.

A smiling zeltron with tired eyes came to mind—Ripley, so beautiful, so kind, yet broken just the same. He hadn't understood love. At least, not in the traditional sense. The emotions, the passion, the memories made in the throes of wild nights. That he knew. She made him question all that. Surely there could've been a happy ending for him too. One that saw him well into his later years, a father maybe, with a son of his own. Someone to raise, not as a weapon to a dying republic, but a sincere soul with aspirations of peace. Not war, no. Too much war already. Too much death.

Distant screams found the Jedi Knight. They mirrored his pain, alive with the fear of some unjust fate. He rolled over onto his side and pressed his good hand against dry earth. His fingers curled inward as he pressed up, his body slowly finding the strength to stand. Resolve, his trusty saber thrummed with power. Thankful towards the weapon, Ryv allowed his left side to fall against the tree as he sucked in deep, haggard breaths. The shouts were close enough to tell they were muffled, but in his condition, the kiffar wasn't sure he could clear even half the distance.

"One foot... in front of the other..." he repeated, over and over again, as he pushed his body much further than he should have. More blood leaked from wounds he hadn't felt at first. Scarlet stained the armorweave beneath his torn jacket. Dozens of lacerations all screaming out at once, begging the Jedi Knight to stop, to find shelter and rest. The battle would have to be fought without him. Surely he knew that. He was but one man, unable to carry the weight of so many lives. Still, there would be no stopping. Not yet. Not when someone needed him, not now, not in this life. If he were to do anything right, make something of his legacy, something worth remembering, it had to be now, on Ziost, surrounded by the dark side. Fear would not halt his passage. The pain, no matter how bad, could not keep him down.

"I'm coming," he called out, his hand taking Resolve from his side. "Just-" he paused, his body catching as a wracking cough sent spasms down sundered limbs. He reached out with his good hand and took hold of the tree to guide himself against it. His body crashed uncomfortably against the rough, bark-strewn surface. "Just hold on..." he begged, both to himself and whoever's screams filled the clearing oh so close.

He pushed off the tree and stumbled forward. He found his way to a wall, specifically the back wall of whatever building the terror-filled cries originated from. Not slowing, he pressed forward, practically dragging himself around the corner to face whatever threatened his latest charge.

A red-skinned monstrosity turned its head to the Jedi Knight. It writhed about, entire body contorted at odd angles. Blood ran from both sockets to drip like a slow-falling rain to the dirt beneath its feet. Cracked fingernails, caked with all manner of filth, reached out at Ryv. It scored a hit across his neck, tearing at the flesh in three jagged lines. The kiffar howled in pain. Resolve ignited at his command, the emerald saber finding purchase within the horror's chest. He dragged the weapon away and watched this new foe fall to the floor, its body limp, life stolen away in mere seconds by the mythical Jedi weapon.

Before Ryv could find even a moment of peace, others crawled out from nearby buildings. All of them, red-skinned, blood coated. Their teeth gnashed about, a low snarl emitted from their throats. They practically slobbered as they spied the latest fool to stumble into their midst. All at once, they rushed him. Some threw themselves forward with little concern for their lives, taking the lightsaber's super-heated surface like it was a splash of water to the face. Limbs fell away. Heads rolled. They did not stop coming, so Ryv did not stop killing. He beat down at each of them, all manner of technique forgotten as he sheared through an endless horde of mutated beasts, each as horrendous as the last.

When the fighting finally came to an end, the kiffar fell to his knees. His limbs were far too heavy to lift. More scarlet blood poured from some six or seven new wounds. His vision glazed over as his body tumbled to the dirt, lightsaber still in hand. A painful thud shook him from his stupor the moment his head impacted the earth. Too tired to move, Ryv stared forward at the severed head of the sithspawn beast he'd slaughtered only moments before. Its bloodshot gaze slowly faded away, red skin lightening to a sun-kissed cream color. Blue eyes peered into the amber of his own. What was once a creature of his deepest nightmares shifted form, replaced instead by just another person. An undeserving victim in an endless war fought between light and shadow.

Ryv shifted his neck to rest his head on his chin. The odd transformation took place all around him. Each wretched creature replaced by desecrated, humanoid corpses. He squeezed his eyes shut, mumbling softly to himself, begging to open them back up again to see the red devils from moments before. Yet, when next he opened his eyes, his gaze leveled on the same severed head, he saw only a normal, mortal woman, her expression locked in an everlasting torment she would never escape.

He screamed again.

And again.

And he did not stop until his throat was hoarse and thick with his own blood.

 

[Gala Geert]

THE STYGIAN CAMPAIGN

AGENT GLADIO
ZIOST | ADASTA'KUN
EQUIPMENT: COMBAT ARMOUR | FEVERWASP (2) | SOHEI | TIDEFALL
BAD COMPANY

​

The skies curdled into clouds of blood-red, casting darkness across the planet itself. The Jedi weren’t able to control themselves but the midnight company –– always, the midnight company –– were able to maintain control.

Citizen’s retreated into their homes, their silhouettes looked deranged and focused on their attempts to either run or confront. They were helpless beneath the miasma that stretched over the planet, drenched in inferiority. The commandos back-and-forth over their comms about the situation. They might have been more careless with the people of the citadel if they weren’t so...pathetic.

In the end, they all agreed it would be a job for the Jedi. The ultimate human resources and morale boosters. Especially when perceived sith magic was involved.

<Hey!> Gala wrestled with someone, seeking to reach between her helmet and armour –– hunting for her throat. <No––no! Look at this, this strength. You don’t need the Sithuuuugh––> Fingers scraped her trachea, intent on clenching and clawing.

Major Tom’s mitt clamped over the shoulder of the individual, yanking them back and away from her. Forcing the them to stare down the cold, endless barrel of his blaster.

This gave Gala room to scramble from the situation, leaving the individual unharmed, and refocus her energies to the rest of the strike team that wasn’t part of the elite commando company.

The unparalleled crackle of technicolour activity demanded her attention, narrowing her focus in the direction of the Jedi. A wizardous display evidenced from their persons –– light and fire –– and Gala bit down on all her contempt. It was thick on the back of her tongue and heavy as she swallowed it. The colour itself was as indescribable as it was luminescent. For a moment, her contempt was overpowered with strict awe. The brilliance was beyond the spectrum of anything the mirialan knew. From the corners of her mind, an attempt to describe it offered it's hand forward, reminiscent of a time she'd been close to a true friendship.

"I would imagine that even the most basic of ultraviolet colours could be profound if witnessed for the first time,"

"If I had to pick one, I suppose I would choose a colour I had been shown a few years back. The natives called it Wal'eed,"=
"I happened across it in my travels across the Outer Rim. I would loosely describe it as whiter than white. It was impossibly bright, and yet entirely imperceptible to most. The villagers would go blind inexplicably, having unknowingly observed the invisible colour. Others had even fallen to madness in its presence, or so I was told. They worshiped it like a God."

"I am thankful to have seen it,"

"Wa'Leed..." Gala whispered to herself, her mic not picking up on the audio.

It was beautiful. And she was thankful to see it.

Not for its radiant gorgeousness, but for all the meaning behind it. All the hope that forced itself into the metaphysical collision. And, like those villagers, Gala was blinded. Not as sufferably as those in the story had been, but with purpose. Terrible, terrible purpose.

For all her wormy patheticness, the little Jedi seemed adamant about proving herself. As the warriors of invisible merit so often did. She’d seen it once or twice, but never at this scale. Never in a situation so hopelessly imbalanced. It was like a rancor wrestling with a jaxxon.

To replace the venomous perspective on the Force user, she felt a level of admiration rise in her chest; swelling behind her breastplate. A measure of clairvoyance levelled over her.

Nobody else was rising to that challenge.

No-one else dared.

<Gladio, reports are in that the Jedi unlocked an artifact that darkened the skies.>

<Unsurprising.> Was all the agent offered, pulling herself to her feet and staring at the contest of wills that radiated between the Sith and the Jedi.

<And they don’t know how to close it.>

<Unfortunate.> She paused, rolling both hilts of her swords against her palms, clenching them firmly. <Let’s get them enough time to figure it out.>

<What?>

<Pass it on. Let the Jedi know they need to get out of this situation. It’s wasted heroism. They need to stop this...whatever the darkness is. Surely they’ve figured that out by now. Cover me.> The objective was clear in her mind’s eye. Clearer than it had been at any point since the dropship.

Evil incarnate existed as Carnifex. And as she ran forward, blades sharp and poised to strike in an X-slash across his extended arm.

When her front foot wedged into the ground, she launched herself into the air to lunge into a bull-arced strike at the limb of the emperor. Her sworn objective now was to terminate the wa'leed shared between the Force users.

​

ALLIES | GA | MIDNIGHT COMPANY | Auteme | Aelys | Reiner Talmanes
ENEMIES | TSE | Darth Carnifex

 

[Master Zoryu]

Prophet of Light
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | Find Auteme

​

The journey to Ziost had been longer than if Zoryu had used a larger ship's hyperdrive to ferry the small fighter that he discovered on Korriban. The atmosphere above the planet was filled with the smoke of a battle raging far below on the surface. The sky burned red and a sense of dread filled the old Jedi Master. Yet his resolve could not be shaken. He was on a holy mission and his sole aim was to find the one who had been named Shield of the Jedi. His brothers and sisters on the battlefield would need to wait.​

Zoryu pulled his fighter into a dive and swept quickly over the heads of the Jedi and Sith waging war below, searching visually for his target to no avail. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and exhaled. As he pushed the air from his lungs, the Jedi reached out in the Force, feeling for Auteme in the chaos and unbalance. He could feel his search rippling across the surface of the planet and like a sonar, felt the reverberation when he found his target. It was faint, but he could sense Auteme. "Hold on," he spoke into the void, willing her to hear him.​

​

His senses were pulling him in the direction of a massive citadel that loomed in the distance. He released the seal on the cockpit and the dome that secured against the void was ripped away by the sheer force of the wind bending around the ship. The Jedi used the Force to steady the ship and stood in the seat, using his light staff and holding tightly to the lip of the cockpit to steady himself. Tears streamed from his eyes when the cold air began tearing at his face in earnest, but he kept them open as the proximity alerts began to warn of an impending impact. The fighter was heading directly for the citadel.​

At the last possible second, Zoryu summoned a burst of Force energy and lept from the compartment. The ship collided with the citadel in a thundering crash that sent a plume of smoke into the air while Zoryu landed safely on a parapet below. He knew the sudden impact would likely alert his foes to his presence, but with Auteme inside and her light fading, time was of the essence. As quickly as he could manage without losing his balance, he slipped inside through a broken window.​

"Auteme," he reached out in the Force again, searching for the young woman in the cacophony of darkness that seemed to shroud all things on Ziost. ​

​

It did not take long for Zoryu to get his bearings as a rush of light side energy filled the corridor, and likely, the entire structure. The sense of dread lifted and an uplifting feeling of hope washed over him. Fortune had smiled on him as the Force had guided him to precisely the right area of the fortress. He hurried as quickly as his legs would carry him down the corridor and into the chamber where the light spilled forth. His bright blue eyes widened at the sight of Carnifex and he instinctively raised his light staff. Yet in the middle of the room, illuminated by the light, Auteme stood resolute against the darkness.​

The dark lord unleashed a flurry of bright blue flames that pressed against the light and the heat of the onslaught made him shrink back. His every instinct told him to leap in front of Auteme, to defend her, but that was not his purpose. It was not hers. She was the Shield of the Jedi. "Auteme... I give you my power... Rise in the Force! Repel this unspeakable evil," he said telepathically, sharing with her the vision he had during his fall and from his body, he allowed to pass, all of the power he could muster. Like a conduit, the Light flowed through him and into Auteme, redoubling her strength.​

"Asmundr... Auteme needs us... all of us... focus your energies... She has been chosen. She is the Shield." ​

ALLIES | NJO | GA | Auteme | Asmundr Varobalder
ENEMIES | TSE | THE DARKSIDE | Darth Carnifex

 

[Asmundr Varobalder]

THE_WARDEN
PROSPERITY’S PROTECTOR | THERE IS NO CHAOS, THERE IS HARMONY
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | STRIKE TEAM OVERSIGHT | PROSPERITY ABOVE ZIOST

THERE IS NO EMOTION, THERE IS PEACE | STRIKE TEAM WINDU || Takui

All the connections within his network were discoloured, contaminated with other interactions and the overpowering influence of The Lie that had been unleashed to the damned world beneath him.

It pushed him to the edge of desperation, a parallel to the constrictions and fright he'd faced on Korriban. Where he fell to a state, melted, broke, that coalesced with the living connector itself.

Oneness was not a state he sought to achieve ever again. It had unbuilt him, rebuilt him, unbuilt, rebuilt several times over. His one token of success was emerging on the other side with a greater understanding of The Force's dynamics than he could have ever hoped to in year's past. Enough so, that he could comb through his connections gathered, observe them with the scrutiny of all-seeing eyes, and make selective choices to preserve parts he saw fit for his intention.

He scrubbed all those pathways in his mind's eye, gleaning from the harvest what purity he could, and siphoned it into a focused tunnel that directed to the Padawan he had a deeper connection to than most. Conversation was a gateway to the heart, and he'd seen the youth's vulnerabilities for what they were. All in a way that allowed him to intersect the individual, pointedly seeking to penetrate the layers of defence erected through The Lie and general stamina established via training.

Do not withdraw from me. The mighty Warden pleaded, gently brushing a shade of affection against the boy's mind. Accept my light. Accept...the purity I offer. They offer to you. Asmundr fully expected the sensations to be overwhelming. They would be for any Jedi, but for a nescent empath? Doubly, if not triply so.

Recognizing shame is the place for a humble man. Humility is the gateway to growth. You must...grow...beyond this young one. You must overcome.

In the real world, Asmundr was quivering with exertion. Channelling his energies to dominate against the plagues which ravaged the youth's psyche. First, he sought to cleanse. Once a blanket slate was achieved, he would harmonize.

Amidst all this, a voice left on Korriban touched his mind, and brought a trill of delight to the mountain of a man.

"Asmundr... Auteme needs us... all of us... focus your energies... She has been chosen. She is the Shield." ​

It is good to hear from you, old friend.

His energy was focused on Takui, urging the boy to do well. But the girl..the shield...she had a purpose in this too. For all the strength she might contain, a shield always did well to be reinforced. He massaged a reminder in her direction and amplified the message from the venerable master.

Destroy The Lie. Undo what has been unleashed.

BATTLMELD: ACTIVE - CLEANSE MIND - FORCE HARMONY​

ALLIES | NJO | GA
STRIKE TEAM TANO: Mishel Kryze | Cotan Sar'andor | Coren Starchaser | Romi Jade
STRIKE TEAM WINDU: Takui | Rhis Fisto | Dagon Kaze | Mrurh'en'lase | Hel | Zark San Tekka
STRIKE TEAM RHYSODE: Auteme | Aelys | Reiner Talmanes | Gala Geert
ENEMIES | TSE | THE DARKSIDE

 

[Takui]

​

He was at a convergence near the end of all things. The pain that flourished and intensified within him piloted his body, and his mind looked on from elsewhere. Takui had disassociated entirely, his thoughts and actions utterly at odds. Everything he felt tore his mind in a different direction. Any semblance of cohesion came under attack immediately.

The lightsaber in his grip raged in a mirror image of the tumult beneath his skin. Where Takui once had been weak, darkness granted him power. It was the very thing he feared most, and from that thought his spirit reeled. He could feel himself probing, feeling out in the Force. His flesh sought the Sith Lark, seeking his demise.

A timid, frightened child had relinquished himself to something ancient. He gave in because the wisdom of countless eons whispered sweet lies to him, promises that it could give him the answers he sought. In those promises, there was some notion of finality; but it would not be the ending that he wanted. It was not an ending his mother would be proud of.

It was an ending he could accept, because it meant an end to this shameful existence.

Takui kept his mind safely cradled deep in the darkness, in the cool, accepting embrace of shadow. He swathed in in silken blankets of half-truths, and in convenient stories that he could believe right until the deed was done, about how he was powerless and how he could not have done it without the box. Takui sought solace in the frigid touch of evil, and the perverse notion that everything would work out now dominated his mind.

It was enough to put a wicked smile on his face as he took another, agonized step toward the crumbling building.

He would have ended it all with a word, a deplorable word to end this world and all others. Such power was within his reach, sat upon the throne of darkness. At the center of all things in a place where nothing could reach, Takui saw a ray of light. The words of Master Varobalder reached him a second time, this time gentler yet filled with the stern, kind reproach of a mentor.

Recognizing shame is the place for a humble man. Humility is the gateway to growth. You must...grow...beyond this young one. You must overcome.

They began as a whisper and grew slowly, echoing through the boundless, shapeless chamber where his thoughts were sequestered. As the sound of Asmundr's voice reverberated, flickers of light entered the room. At first, they were weak and instantly went out; but they persevered. One after another, the stars in an endless sky began to illuminate his lonely world as Master Varobalder's wisdom melted the ice around his heart and let the warmth in his emotions touch his spirit again.

The same, horrendous emotions that burned him, that he fled from now gave him a sense of something that he thought had died. In the horrors of Stygian night, he'd come to believe a twisted tale about what lurked within himself. As the lie was exposed by brilliant light, he found himself afraid.

Was he just as guilty?

That was where the Master Jedi's words struck his heartstrings and a melody divergent from Lark's own began to play. Humility. It was right that he could see his own flaws, and the mistakes he had made. It was good that he did not succumb to his errors. It was important that he grow from this.

Fully aware and with the horrific power still vying against Asmundr for control, the radiance that now filled Takui up like a translucent vessel coursed through his arms and tingled at his fingertips. A blissful cool warmth replaced the intense, unbearable suffering as he allowed his mind, body, and spirit to coalesce. He allowed Asmundr to take the reins away from the darkness, and to steer him back onto the path.

He let the lightsaber clatter to the floor, the silver blade swallowed up by its hilt. Takui reached out, in total command of his thoughts, and he began to knit together the connections that linked all things. Lark was protecting the box, but if he could simply get it out from the darkness and expose it to the light...

Lark | Asmundr Varobalder | Auteme​

 

[Adhira Chandra]

"Sweetheart? Why don't you come to bed?" Adhira was standing at the window of her private office on Coruscant, staring into the middle distance beyond her window. She turned to see Aarav standing in the doorway to their bed chambers. He looked concerned. For the first time since she'd taken office she noticed that he too had earned a respectable discoloration under his eyes that reminded her, for every late night in the office, he had agonized worrying for her. It was a small comfort. "I am sorry if I woke you," he looked like he was going to speak, but ultimately decided against it, "I will be there in just a moment. Go back to bed."​

Her smile was meant to be comforting, but she doubted it had done him any good. Still, he turned dutifully and retreated back into the darkness, leaving the Chancellor to stand alone again. She wondered whether the sun was still bearing down on Ziost or if Tithe was fast asleep after a long day of negotiations on Tiss'Sharl. Adhira gave a fleeting look to the bedroom door before gathering up her dressing gown and tiptoeing barefoot down the corridor that led to her much larger, official office.​

The old woman wrapped the robe around her thin frame to ward off the cold of the dark office and carefully lowered herself into the chair behind her desk. The communications display listed hundreds of calls she'd made over the last few days.​

​

She scrolled for a moment until she found the name she had been looking for and jabbed the button to record a message. A small light glowed to show that she was capturing her own image and she stared for a moment into the lense, unsure of where to begin. "The last time we spoke, you told me to trust your actions," Adhira began, biting back the sarcasm she so longed to lace her words with, "thousands of my people fought and died to win Korriban and Felucia. Thousands of my people are dying right this second on Ziost. We have made great progress, this is true, but I find that you never stop thinking about the lost... I hope you are thinking of them too."​

"We have a fundamental disagreement on what it means to be a force for good in the galaxy. The Alliance fights for the ideals of democracy, freedom, liberty, and light - you? Well. Not so much. One of us is wrong in this great cosmic debate... I think it's you." The woman allowed herself a little smile at that sentiment. She glanced back at the hallway leading to her private chambers. A sink was on. Aarav was still up. "Time will tell."​

"For every shadow we have driven from the northern regions of the galaxy, a new darkness has seeped into the void. I think you and I both know that this cat and mouse strategy we are carrying out against the Sith will never work if we continue to divide our efforts this way," Adhira took a deep breath to steel herself for what she was about to say. "I think it's time we talk about the terms of our agreement. Perhaps it is time you came to Coruscant for a chat."​

​

Adhira stared at her own image for a moment longer and then hit the send button. She waited a beat until the confirmation message appeared on her screen: "Secure Message Sent to... Irveric Tavlar!" The Chancellor was sure it would not be long before she heard from him and as much as it made her skin crawl to think about being in proximity again, this was the surest way to bring the war to an end. It was time to bring this chapter to a close. The light would prevail, one way or another.​

Aarav appeared at the door again, looking exhausted. "Sorry, I had to make a call," she smiled and crossed the plushly carpeted room to escort her husband back to bed.​

Irveric Tavlar ​

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
DISSIDENT AGGRESSOR

IRON SUN RISING

So had come the moment of reckoning.​

Beckoned by the coalescing chaos and disorder which threatened to put the Galaxy to its knees. Darkness consolidated in each creeping recess of this mortal realm. The Sith Empire and all those adherent to the dark creed. The Brotherhood that would see the Galaxy and its people all brought to their knees. It'd seeped its way into every other notable power. Controlling the reigns of command within the Confederacy, actively manipulating the Silver Jedi. It was a war that cut deeper than the borders of iron and crimson.

The Sith Empire would not be the end, only a bloody beginning.

While Adhira struggled to rest, Irveric resigned to the fact that he would have none. Since the return from his hiatus following the crushing defeat battling the Elder Compact at Dantooine, he was not content with idle hands. His aim was the destruction of the Zambrano's Empire, the tyranny of the Sith driven from the Galaxy forever. His march would continue till his death or until he saw Galactic peace made by his will.

Standing aboard the bridge of the Dissident Aggressor, overlooking the Seventh Fleet in the midst of their repair and re-armament. Bastion and Helgard had been waring on the Imperator's own, but the work was not done yet. Soon enough, he'd be buried in the heavy metal of his armor leading the sons and daughters of the True Empire through the breach.

"Sir-" Captain Sarne spoke up to Tavlar. There was little by the way of un-needed decorum in his presence. He was a pragmatic man to the end.

"A message, addressed to you directly." Irveric glanced in his direction, arching a brow before nodding once.

"From whom?"

"Chancellor Adhira Chandra...of the Galactic Alliance."

"Noted. Begin transmission, if you would." Irveric commanded and the holoprojection was displayed before him. He eyed the projection of the Chancellor with narrow eye. Even in a communique of this nature, she maintained that bitter reluctance to their working dynamic. He listened with the frigid gaze characteristic of him by now, even if it was marred by blaster burns and the deep and jagged lacerations tolled unto him by the Helgardi.

At its conclusion, he nodded once.

"It seems the glad hands in the Alliance have come to be enlightened of the reality we've known for some time now, Captain Sarne. This is a battle for existence. It will either be us or them driven to the end." Irveric states.

"People believe of themselves that they want freedom...but in truth, they want order. The people of the Galaxy will not tolerate living 'neath the caustic tyranny of chaos, the active manipulation of these horrid cults. Of that, we can make common ground. Set our course for Coruscant." Irveric states, turning on his heels before he turns to leave the bridge.

"As you command, sir."

"The Alliance has fought their battles...now wish to truly make war. We will strike as one...and we will bring the reckoning of the Sith once and for all."

Adhira Chandra​

 

[Aelys]

ZIOST | ADASTA'KUN
Equipment: Saberstaff, New Jedi Order Jacket
Engaging: Calin Harr

​

Every fiber of his being was pushing him to lash out. To put an end to this arrest, and just... Prevent the Sith from betraying his trust first. Putting himself out there, open to being shot, to be stabbed, even ambushed. Why should he risk himself? Because it was the Jedi way? No, because he wanted to be a hero. But to be reckless and benevolent, or critical and pragmatic? Trust that the Sith would willingly give himself over, or wait to act, and leave himself open? To be made a fool. The option to preemptively strike and remove the threat before it could him, faded with every step he took. Aelys could feel it, and he knew he didn't need the Force to tell him that.

Trust.

He was to trust the others of Strike Team Rhysode, but none were in sight. It was just... Him. Alone with this gun-toting Sith in the middle of the Citadel.

Why shouldn't I? Coming to a stop, Aelys held out the cuffs. One side opened, waiting. Would Ryv give 'em this chance?

Anticipating, but still unbeknownst to Aelys, the Sith reached out.

The tray of gruel closed in on him, and Aelys' brow twitched knowingly. Heightened reflexes brought him ducking under the tray. Immediately leaping into action as the tray soared over him. Cuffs abandoned, before they even hit the ground he was reaching for the saberstaff he had replaced on his belt. I knew it! The thought flew across his mind. In its wake, frustration carved a burning path through his mind as his brows knitted together, furrowing. A waste of time, he should've just ended him from the start! As soon as he raised up, blaster bolts lanced through the air right at him.

Sapphire saberstaff sparking to life and raising up, he was too slow for the initial burst of fire that came at him. Caught in one shoulder and then torso, he lurched backwards as the leather jacket, interwoven with armourweave got the blasts.

I knew it, Aelys thought again grimly, now, more than ever certain in those beliefs that had taken root deep in his mind.

The Sith were a perverse Order that needed to be eradicated.

The Force weaved itself around him again as he threw himself forwards after the retreating Sith. The Sith sought cover? To retreat, to hide from the Padawan? He wouldn't get far. In the Mess Hall, there were few obstacles to use for cover, little more than tables and rails, it wasn't difficult to maneuver around. Propelled forwards, he kicked off the ground, clear over a table right for the Sith Acolyte. Jerking his lefthand forwards, the saberstaff aimed for the upper torso of the Sith. No options for arrest.

Aelys had settled on putting an end to this once and for all.

 

[Kisaku Oroken]

Auteme | Gala Geert | Leon Gallo | Darth Carnifex

​

Carnifex was monstrous. With his dark gift, Kisaku was stronger than he'd ever been before even while his body was close to death. It didn't matter. There was eons of difference between them, starting with the fact that although he burned brightly with the Force Kisaku didn't have the artfulness, the skill or the experience to wield such forces. Where as ordinarily his saber was brutally and gracefully efficient, those words couldn't be applied to it. The gracefulness had been lost in translation when he controlled his body like a novice puppet master.

He wasn't able to recognize that however. Not in the mental state he was in at present. A sneer on his lips of hatred he was an animal cornered even as Carnifex pushed him onto the defensive. He should have had more to him. Should have been capable of flowing like water with the strength behind Carnifex' terrible blows, eroding even at the strongest of them. Using his momentum, artful deflection and footwork to produce swift and winding counter attacks to interrupt the Sith'ari's tirade. None of that came out as he moved his body with force far beyond his control, meeting Carnifex' strength head on with his own and time after time as his saber was displaced it was proven that in that particular contest he would lose every time.

Sweat, blood, and a translucent sluice of fluids weeping from his burned flesh ran down him freely as his body begged and pleaded for the pain to stop. It wouldn't. His mind was assailed with each clash of their weapons. There were no defenses in place. The watchtowers were unmanned, for the demons already controlled the throne.

He crumbled backwards at that last clash, and in his fury saw Carnifex turn to face away. Who was he looking at? Indignation flew through the enraged Padawan, but the blood roaring in his ears finally abated enough to allow him to hear... Someone else in the room.

"You are empty! You are nothing! Your gifts are the same!"

Was... That? Some of the rage melted away, the sneer twitching at Kisaku's lips for a moment. He'd thought she was...

​

"HERE IS MY GIFT!"​

As light washed through the room with it's brilliance Kisaku saw something he'd never seen before. A beacon, cutting through the darkness that had enveloped his vision. And with that light it washed through him, feeling like he was being burned for a second time. This time, it was a cleansing. A cry of agony cut from him as all at once the doorway to that dark place that Carnifex had put into his soul slammed shut, and with it everything that had been keeping Kisaku going before vanished from him.

All of the pain had returned and then some from the damage he'd done to himself. Tears freely left him as his body broke out into violent trembling. He couldn't even speak it hurt so much. This time however, consciousness would not leave him no matter how badly he wished for it.

It wasn't the only reason for the tears however. She lived. They both did. He didn't have to be alone. Through the pain he felt relief, and elation beyond expression. For so long the obvious truth he'd been thus far bucking against became apparent. Auteme was his Master. Saber or no, she was going to be the one protecting him and today, at least for right now, he accepted it with relief in his sobs from where he lay.

None of that accounted for the literal X-wing that crashed in through the roof. Kisaku at least had already been thrown to the ground out of the way. If it were slightly different, he would have been crushed beneath it. He could feel them now as the light had returned to him. Friends. He might not have known their name or their voices, or have even met them before, but there were friends here to see them through the day.

He might not die today, but it wouldn't be the darkness that gifted him a second chance. He smiled through the pain and sobbing. The blood and the tears.

 

[Aeric Kaze]

SORZUS SITH ACADEMY
ALLIES: THE SITH EMPIRE
ENEMIES: THE NEW JEDI ORDER
NOTICE: Dagon Kaze

D A N C I N G _ W I T H _ F L A M E S
​

Aeric already saw his path. It was downtrodden with thousands of others that had tread upon it before him, for varying reasons. They sought power and strength, to save those that they cared and loved for. They were tyrants seeking to destroy all those that would oppose them. To enslave the weak, for the sole reason of believing them to be better. Or they were scared, they had no other path to take, for the path of good would lead them nowhere, or the paragons of light of their time were crusading sycophants. Whichever the reasons for those that traveled that path into the never ending abyss of Darkness, Aeric joined them, willingly.

Influence, there had been from the presence of a Sith Lord for a Father planting some form of himself into his mind, but to Aeric, in his mind... The good outweighed the bad. Whoever he had to harm, whatever he had to do to get what he wanted, it didn't matter. They didn't matter, for Aeric's wants were above everyone else's. They were... Insignificant. Forgettable creatures, just like he was. His essence, coalesced in darkness rejected the idea of being nothing, but since that simple rural life farming on Ruusan, he had come to terms with being... Nothing.

Was I... Wrong? Am I truly... More? The thought crossed his mind as he stared apathetically at Dagon.

It was ironic, seeing how Dagon left his emotions on his sleeve. A Jedi, uncaring of their tenets and giving himself to his emotion. To his feelings. Whereas, the Sith, his own twin stared coldly, closed off from the reality and the world caving in on the Padawan. All he saw was a stranger that bore his features. Their shared background didn't matter. Their identical genetic tissue didn't matter. Not even Dagon's feelings for him mattered.

Insignificant.

"I see it. I see it now."

"No."

"The curse of our father's legacy, like a fog lingering before your eyes - a thick veil that blinds you. That suffocates you." he calmly gestured with his hand. "His corruption like a knot binding you to doom and destruction."

As his brother gave in to his righteous fury, Aeric was the pinnacle of calmness and certainty.

The fight, the battle, the struggle for survival were the grounds that he tread upon daily. Conflict? It's what drove him, more than anything. Deep down, he wanted to fight. Always. To be better. Perhaps, he had always lied to himself about being nothing, but when he was in throes of combat, he couldn't deny the appeal it had over for him.

Crimson beam flashing from side to side, Aeric remained placid externally. Internally, his rage boiled over the edge, propelling him, and his brother closer to the literal edge of the plateau they stood upon. The Sith Academy stood high up, and the ground below where the dead littered the earth were numerous.

"You're blind," Aeric spoke between parries and flourishes. A slash here, a stab there. Riposte. It was second to the words that came tumbling forth from his mouth. "Whether by your feelings for me, a past as insignificant as you are to me, or by your Jedi fanaticism... You're blind." Parry leading into a shoulder-bash, he drove Dagon closer to that ever present edge of the roof. "For if you truly cared, if you ever cared... You wouldn't make yourself an obstacle that I have to get pass."

His saber swung in, crashing across Dagon's saber. Behind it, minor telekinetic power, enhanced by the inherent Dark Side that pervaded the planet. Tens of thousands dead over the millennia. Snatched from the very world, rendered to nothing. Kaze drew on it, used it as he did all things regarding the Force and slammed his saber down again on Dagon's until it slipped from his hand and went over the edge.

"And I will pass."

Raising onto one foot, his foot kicked out at the centre of Dagon's chest, in order to send him from the rooftop to the bone crushing death that awaited him.

 

[Dagon Kaze]

CLEANSING FIRE
NEW JEDI ORDER
SORZUS ACADEMY OF SITH ARTS
ENGAGING: Aeric Kaze
F A D E _ T O _ B L A C K

They clashed under blood red skies. Crimson and sapphire danced in the night. Two mirror images unyielding to one another. Ashla versus Bogan. A prophecy fulfilled a thousand and one times over and over again from the dawn of time to infinite and back.

Time is a flat circle; Everything we've ever done or will do, we're gonna do over and over and over again. And those twin brothers, they're gonna be on that plateau again and again and again forever.

As Aeric masterfully drove Dagon to the edge and sent him over the edge flying, the Jedi's past flashed through his mind before the book of life shut itself with a slam.

And he was back there.

In that little home on Ruusan.

The End.​

GA | ALLIES
TSE | ENEMIES | CLOSED

 

[Other Space Kaiden]

The Inferno
Warrior's Skin​

The beast laughed in amusement as the bow gave under the weight of his firery blade, the alchemized bone carving through the bubbling metal as of it were molded from warm butter. As the sharp edge fell through the dripping metal a beam of stuttering light ignited - casting aside the broken pieces of bow and catching the blade midfall. Allyson stood defiantly in his shadow, pillar of blue flame pulsing from her hand and connecting with the Sith Blade in a violent storm of lighting bolts and sparks. The beast narrowed reptillain eyes at the Jedi, the reek of death and rot fumigating her as he leaned in over the blades to glare into her eyes.

It spoke no words as it watched her, the flesh of its face and arms torn to bleeding shreds from the confetti of shattered armor twisted into the beast's necrotic hide. Vulcanus focused on the pain oozing from his body alongside the rivers of black blood - using it to play with the jedi. With a morsel of strength he pushed inward, eyes still transfixed on the clashing colors spread across Allyson's face. On the left her eye sparkled with the the violent blue on white crashing of sparks as their blades pushed against one another. On the right her eye reflected the flickering hellred glare of the beast's darkside imbued flames as they crackled around the battlefield.

The breast smiled with gruesome, meat covered fangs. It lasted only a split moment as he felt a surge of power beneath his blade. At once the Jedi shunted upward with her blade, her muscles powered by The Force. Vulcanus' was forced back and his blade forced aside, the tip striking the duracrete with a sputter of fire and sparks. No sooner had he found his footing than did the Jedi chuck yet another glowing arrow through the air. Unlike the last, however, this one was but a scrap or its former self and even with her force strength it flew like one winged fighter.

The beast simply tilted its head, reflecting the arrow off of the thick horns that protruded put of his twisted, artifical form. The arrow plinked from the bone and tumbled across the street harmlessly, leaving behind only a painless, smoking chip in the beast's right horn.

"Is that all you got? I expected more from The Lord of Embers."

Vulcanus scoffed, shifting the focus of his gaze to the flames crackling around and behind Allyson. With a snarl and a wicked smile he retorted, "You Jedi parade your weakness so confidently and yet you fail time and again."

Vulcanus allowed his blade to spur to life, sinking his power into it and causing a flame to burst forth...yet his focus was elsewhere. The flames behind Allyson grew a tinge darker while he carried on with his distraction.

"you failed to stop the enslavement of the Kaleesh at my hands. You failed to kill me at Korriban. You failed to stop me at Atrisia! Even when you bombarded my homeworld you failed to stop The Graug."

The flames behind Allyson grew black now, yet Vulcanus allowed his blade to sputter with flames. "Your kind will always fail because the weak weigh you down" the blade glowed like a sun now and Vulcanus stepped forward, sweeping the tip of the blade across the duracrete in a shower of sparks and rubble, "so you will drown beneath my Eternal Horde!"

The blade burned brightly, but as the tip came point at The Jedi, it did nothing. Instead the fire was immediately smothered as Vulcanus drained it back into himself and redirected it into the sorcery he was prepping behind Allyson. Suddenly the black flames lashed out in a display of fiery energy. Like whips the flame tongues struck out, seeking to entangle Allyson's arms and body in a searing, painful flame that would hold her lile physical ropes tied to her body.

Vulcanus simply smiled as the veil of black fire eclipsed the horizon behind her...

 

[Auteme]

Lucien Dooku Kisaku Oroken Gala Geert Leon Gallo Darth Carnifex Takui Master Zoryu Asmundr Varobalder Lark ​

Carnifex fought the light, using his strength to keep the cold darkness that surrounded him. An X-wing crashed through the window, its nose aimed at the Dark Lord; she threw up a barrier to stop the debris from crashing into her or the other Jedi. Alliance commandos surged into the room. One, brave and shining bright, charged at Carnifex directly. Into the hall she felt Master Zoryu call to her and lend his strength.

It wasn't her gift; it was the gift of others to her. A gift of Light, of life; Lucien's defiance, Kisaku's zeal, Zoryu's wisdom, Asmundr's vision, Leon's bravery, and the collective strength of the soldiers of the Alliance. Without them she was nothing. They gave her strength.

She was a beacon. She was a reminder.

The Light grew stronger as each added their strength to hers. She was no match for Carnifex, but two Jedi were stronger than one, and there were more of them than there were of him. That empty, soulless evil, faced with a collective...

Yet, something else drew her.

Though Carnifex was strong, another influence threatened to poison the Jedi. It coated the world, a thick oil infecting the water beneath, making their movements sluggish and strengthening those who hid in the dark. A Lie. It kept them in the dark. In a moment of clarity she shifted her Light; she pulled it close, no less brilliant but far from blinding.

Where she'd once struggled to even step she now moved unbound. She glided through the air, floating off the ground. A burst of energy sent her soaring out of the ruined window of the citadel. Asmundr's sense and sight guided her through the thick fog the Lie created. She could feel Takui struggling for control of the artifact that had been unleashed.

Though he was far she reached to him, reinforcing Asmundr's words with a sense of calm and strength. She flew higher, high enough that she could see the courtyard where Takui was. The Light pooled in her hands. She thrust out her palm, releasing the power she'd been given. A blazing hand streaked across the citadel to grab the box, its burning, cleansing power gaining purchase.

Just as she reached its core she pointed her other hand to the sky. The miasma enveloping Ziost could not be left either -- her strength split, a beam of light shot up to the sky.

Beacon. Reminder.

Light. Truth.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

the M I S T R E S S
M A L C O N T E N T


The Darkside thirsts.
It births and bestows
unlimited Power
upon those worthy
enough to wield it.

How she loves the sensation,
Him bonded to her essence.​

DIRECT ENEMY FOCUS: Jax Thio | Jairdain Ismet​

The monolog began. Jax could not rile her. If he was trying to make her angry, she would have to first be at peace in order for it to matter. All it did is fortify her living connection to the Dark Forces.

"Spasa is dead. I sacrificed her Soul to the Sith'ari. Regarding vendettas, had you none as you claim, then why are you here targeting me, jedi?" the mere label she thought is a horrible mental illness.

Pom is not the one invading the jedi's planet, seeking to initiate murder.

Should the jedi be more focused on his surroundings, instead of on his target, he would have been able to identify that the invading Dropships would not all land successfully, but many suddenly began to explode into flames and plummet out of the sky. As it is much expected that these were targeted by the Sith planet's surviving defense forces of grounded cannons and TSE military ships in orbit, along with allies responding to planetary distress calls.

'The jedi seems paranoid,' she observed, just as he was the last time they had met.

He made a move, and it was a wild, one of chance. It could not be anything else, for the Darkside of the Force is by far more powerful than the ashla will ever permit her followers to become.




The Wanica, encircling Jairdain turned to face her each time the jedita had gone behind them. They each would quickly twist their body in such a way that it made the spine appear detached, providing visual proof to the fact that they exist within this reality under far different parameters.

The twelve Nightsisters were perplexed the moment that they watched Jairdain leave them behind. They found themselves trapped under the same light energy bubble the jedita raised to protect herself from them.

"What has that woman done?!"
"AH! It burns!"
"I HATE JEDI!!!"
"She's trapped us under her ashla…funk!"
"FOCUS, GIRLS!!"
"Yes. Hands together everyone."
"Reach outward from within now."

Darkside essence as black as the void of space and think as oil, reached outward from the heart of each Nightsister. Soon the entire bubble became packed with this raw core energy of the Darkside of the Force.

The ashla-fashioned protection bubble neutralized and collapsed.




The Matriarch's demons whispered to her that an attack was imminent from behind her. Simultaneously, the same charmed wind which carried the whisper quickly twisted the stance of Pomstychtivé causing her to avoid the boulder which Jax Thio had cast at her. As the rock shot past her, she fortified its forward momentum, continuing its trajectory to follow through and aim for her opponent right where he would grip hold of his lightsaber once again.

'Such a fancy move for a mere Knight, one our Acolytes are surely capable of mastering, far better!' she mused, her Chain Sickle whirred, generating a series of ominous tones as it whipped through the air. She danced and bobbed the scythe around from all directions, in an unpredictable manner, protecting her body from Jax's attempts to strike her with his lightsaber. She is quick.

Pom Pushed at Jax to get him off balance, before she Pulled him towards herself, to draw him into her blades. Should she snare him and tear into his flesh or not, she would Push him away again, to make a second attempt.​