Skirmish The Vengeance of Marr

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

Awake, pirates of the void. Look and see the table set for thy feast.

Behold the mighty fortress world of Darth Nefaron , see how the toxic storms ravage the wasteland planet. Home to the Corpse Lord and his dead armies.

Its defenses are numerous and its might is a thing of reckoning.

And yet even so the remnants of House Marr come to reckon, aided by their blood sworn ally, Hasuras na-Gerra, and his Vahlan nomads. So too did the cry go out for the Graspborn to join with the fleet of the Wrath of Vahl, adding the might of Mercy to this armada. And many other pirates besides.

Lo, their armada emerges now upon the edge of the system and creeps forward with an implacability. They thought house Marr beaten and friendless, yet from the ashes a phoenix doth emerge and she is born aloft on wings of fire and destruction.

The armada collides with the defense fleet and the orbital platforms. Space has become a charnel hall of war. Ships float aimless, mere floating husks, sucked dry by the force of vacuum from grievous wounds.

The might of Sith against Sith is a thing unto itself, destruction unparalleled. No rules. No laws to govern this conflict. Nothing but the rule of might.

Woe betide the hapless weak.

Gerra and his warriors launch form his starship and are joined by a chorus of drop pods and shuttles, using the toxic storm in a daring gambit for cover from the defenses of Nefaron’s fortress.

All the while, a broadband message plays on a loop for all to hear.

“NEFARON OF ANOAT, YOUR DOOM IS NIGH.

THE STORMS WILL SWEEP OVER YOUR EMPTIED HALLS WHEN WE HAVE PLUNDERED THEM DRY AND YOU WILL BEG FOR MERCY FROM THE BOWELS OF THE NETHERWORLD.

HOUSE MARR REPAYS A DEBT OWED IN BLOOD AND TREASURE.

PERISH.”

Revna Marr Ansisa Diodoros Vesper Thrace Aurellia Hasuras Na-Eleos Hasuras va-Agrel Hasuras Va-Kull Eurydice Alcariel ​

 

[Vesper Thrace]

This fucking guy, came the flickering, twisting, rapid-fire handtalk of Captain Vesper Thrace to her First Officer, Tavi Corvask as Hasuras Na-Gerra 's voice replayed over the broadband signal. You think he listens to this shit when he's with a woman? Or a man? Or -- probably -- by himself? Oddly enough, the sign for this last bit was remarkably close to the symbol she had previously used for wanker. Mother of the Void, deliver me from egotistical men. Present company excluded, naturally. This last gesture looked something like an apology, a hand pressed briefly to the chest of her lightly armored outfit.

Vepser had already given her rousing speech in the CIC of the Sirenjack to the crew. There was no need for more. And she couldn't imagine having screamed it out to the rest of the system. The ego on this thumb-lookin' mother--

An alert sounded in her ear and she glanced at her wrist-mounted data screen. A red alert showed where a nearby pod's destruction -- from what, Thrace could not say -- had sent shrapnel into the landing pod she was riding into whatever mishegas this business with Gerra was, and their pod was leaking atmosphere. "Listen up," Thrace shouted over the din. The men fell silent and that made it easier to hear the sound of rushing atmosphere. "You hear that? We got three minutes to patch it before this thing crumples like an empty can of juri juice against a gamorrean's forehead. So engineers -- get on it!"

Vesper thumped down the cramped corridor -- there really wasn't much to these pods, including apparently external shielding -- toward where a pair of engineers had already fallen in working to seal the shrapnel hole. "Good," she said, then turned back to the crew. "Almost there. Check your blaster packs. Tighten your straps. I am decidedly not interested in replacing you at the next backwater cantina we come to, so come back from this alive, yes?"

The crew gave a nervous titter at what they assumed were jokes and then raised a cheer at her rhetorical question. Vesper nodded her head once, then returned to her preparation, following her own advice to check her kit.

Remind me to give The Thumb a kick in the shins for that pod, she signed to Tavi with a violent jerk of her head to the side where the previous pod had exploded. These things are basically papier-mâché.

___________________________________________________________________

Hasuras Na-Gerra | Tavi Corvask | Mercy
Revna Marr | Ansisa | Diodoros | Aurellia
Hasuras Na-Eleos | Hasuras va-Agrel | Hasuras Va-Kull
Eurydice | Alcariel | Darth Nefaron​

 

[Ansisa]

Turbulence shook the drop pod, jostling Ansisa as debris peppered the outside like rain on a perspex roof, no doubt from another pod that had not survived the storm. The sound of Gerra's voice looping the same messaged made her close her eyes. She was not here for vengeance, the quart of blood she demanded was not for debt. It wasn't Nefaron who had reduced her to this. It wasn't Nefaron that had seen her separated from her children.

This was however, an opportunity to test her new limbs. No amount of training or exercise aboard a ship could offer the same result as a field test and the anger that settled in her chest longed for release. Ansisa was a killer through and through and she enjoyed the thrill of it, the empowerment of watching the life fade from another's eyes. And she was hungry for it.

As the readout on the pod told her she was clear of the storm she watched the distance to the ground drop rapidly, waiting for a more reasonable number before her she ripped away the restraint and pulled the release hatch for the door, watching as it was torn away with the force of the fall. A beat later she pushed out of the pod, shunting it away from her with the force as wind rushed passed her ears, tearing at her robes as she plummeted to the fortress below, collecting the force to slow her descent.

The impact rippled her as she hit the ground, duracrete buckled and cracked before she straightened, her lightsaber igniting in her hand, the angry blade spitting as her gaze scanned the incoming defences.

Hasuras Na-Gerra Tavi Corvask Revna Marr Darth Nefaron Mercy Diodoros Aurellia Hasuras Na-Eleos Hasuras va-Agrel Eurydice Alcariel

 

[Darth Nefaron]

Anoat had never been assaulted before. The foul and cursed world was nestled within the heart of Sith space, a place that the Dark Lord would have assumed secure from assault.

A mistake he would have to live with.​

Nefaron's fleet was in its infancy, picket and slaver vessels thrown up as a cloak for the larger vessels still under construction in secret shipyards. Still, what little defense they provided gave the Corpse Lord valuable time to muster the terrible host of Anoat to battle. From atop his dark tower, Nefaron watched as the cloud-choked sky leaped to life with laser fire and falling debris from the battle in orbit. It was true that Anoat lacked naval power, but the true conflict would be to take but an inch of ground upon the cursed surface of Nefaron's world.

Anoat had not been a paradise before Nefaron's arrival, but any progress in curing the poison that had taken hold had been erased by the Terror Lord. Its ancient ruins were consumed by foul creatures and the twisted abominations that served the Dark Lord. The surface itself had been cracked open, great pits spewed black smoke as great forges and machines stripped the world of the materials needed for Nefaron's great war. The air itself seemed to serve the Dark Lord, for to breathe on Anaot was to taste the bile that lingered within the very heart of the Sith who ruled the world.

"Master, our foe has deployed dropships and pods. Our defenses cannot bring them down before they reach the surface."

The droid majordomo of Nefaron's fortress, DD-421, approached the Sith Lord as he looked out from his post atop the central spire of his fortress. The storms that ravaged Anaot's surface seemed particularly violent this day, apparently tied to the mood of the creature who ruled them.

"No matter. Are our communications still scrambled by that fool's message?"

"Yes, Lord, it has been on a loop since their fleet arrived in the system."

"Very well. It appears we shall fight as our ancestors did so long ago. Sound the call to battle."

"Yes, Lord. Shall I summon your Apprentices?"

"Let Veradun have his fun. But I entrust you to find Eurydice and bring her to me; I shall not lose her to this rabble."

The droid offered what amounted to a bow before shuffling off. As he exited the chamber, the laser batteries lining the walls and towers of Nefaron's fortress began to spit to life, sending red bolts up into the thick cloud layer and lighting up the blackened sky. The invaders would ot be the only ones to play mind games, for they had come into Nefaron's home.

They had also come to their own graves. ​

The great horn sounded, drums began to beat, and the clamor of armored feet and the roars of great beasts filled the air. Gathering his power, Nefaron's voice became like the wind itself, amplified so all who served him could hear.

"Invaders have come to avenge House Marr. Instead, they will find only death! So come to me, my creatures! Come forth to the slaughter!"

A great and terrible cheer went up as columns of Corpse Legionaries and the beasts they had enslaved marched, taking positions amongst the walls of the fortress as well as on the great planes that surrounded it. Yet they would not be alone, for from the mountains that the fortress was built into came swarms of creatures, winged animals, and genetic abominations taking to the sky to attack incoming drop pods and shuttles while also harassing the forces that had already landed. From his tower, Nefaron watched as the forces of darkness under his command spewed forth, and his wrath only grew.

He would suffer no intruders. All would serve him in the end.

The Tsis'Karr were dead. This was not Malum reaching out from deep space to prepare his return.

This was the work of another. One who bore the name Marr and sought revenge.

As with all who opposed Nefaron, he would enjoy casting their minds into an eternity of terror. ​

The Dark Side swirled within the Corpse Lord, for his tower of sorcery was a weapon in itself. Strong and shielded, it was likely the safest part of the fortress. It was from here that the Sith Lord would command both his forces and the wrath of Anoat itself to strike down his foes.

This storm would break. None could challenge his will and live.

ALLIED TAGS: Eurydice Helix Lirka Ka
ENEMY TAGS: Hasuras Na-Gerra Alcariel Ansisa Revna Marr ​

 

[Helix]

Objective: Secure Anoat, Eliminate Interlopers
Tags: Darth Nefaron / Lirka Ka / Hasuras Na-Gerra / Revna Marr / @Anyone else involved I've forgotten​

"Sir, we're detecting multiple energy signatures. Affiliation unknown."

Helix's gargantuan consciousness stirred from other contemplations, turning its attention to this singular message like a deep-sea monster stalking a lone diver.

At any given time, millions of such communiques hammered endlessly through his macro-sapience, but this one came across louder than most. A pinprick of white-hot, high-priority distress amidst a sea of combat data, credit transactions, and kill reports.

Helix's interests in the Anoat system were long-entrenched, and he had permanently garrisoned no small quantity of forces in the area. Great, militarized mining stations processed countless hundreds of thousands of tons of ores per day, with the stately leviathans of the Helix fleet drifting alongside them.

When not elsewhere, Helix could usually be found overseeing these operations directly. After all, they had funneled vast funds into his coffers, to say nothing of the enrichment enjoyed by Anoat directly. Little else was more important right now than slowly, inexorably strengthening the Dzara. So it was today. He was on Anoat when the reports came.

"Dispatch Third and Sixteenth to reinforce. They are closest." He responded. Nefaron's own fleets may still be barely out of their diapers, but his own were an entirely different matter. Cutting-edge war vessels, crewed by machine-intelligences that boasted accumulated millennia of combat experience. For the time being, his fleets were Nefaron's fleets.

"All hands to battle stations." He sighed, his weary tone undercutting the emergency protocols that now surged in the minds of every droid in orbit. "That includes you, Formless Spawn." He added, addressing the armed mining station in orbit. "Cease processing operations and initiate combat protocols."

The Spawn was somewhat dated already, loaded down with obsolete late-model phosphor drivers and antimatter torpedoes, but she packed more than enough of them to turn most vessels to fine-grain dust in short order. That wasn't even mentioning the much newer, nastier vessels that escorted her.

Helix calculated that this would result in a staggering 12.2% decrease in processing capabilities on the planet, at least while the battle lasted. No matter. If Anoat fell, they wouldn't be processing anything for a while. He'd just have to explain the slowdown in production to Nefaron afterwards, likely by pointing out that this was their first real test as a power bloc.

The galaxy would be watching. Whether the Dzara beat back their assailants or were strangled in the cradle. There was no room, he deemed, for half-measures. This was a show of strength as much as anything else.

Anything not already in-system would take too long to make any difference, so he'd just have to make do with the garrison on hand.

Fortunately, the Anoat system's defenses were robust, if not leaning into the realm of the excessive.

The ships already in orbit over Anoat responded quickly. Great hologram-displays activated, casting kilometers-wide "flags" into space. A three-eyed face over crossed human thighbones. Helix had since evolved past that visage, of course, but it was the traditional emblem of the Helix Privateers, feared the galaxy over as a harbinger of inhuman cruelty.

Should the enemy lay eyes on their vessels at all, there would be his smug face on every surface.

"All hands, hear this. The defense of Anoat is now considered Priority Amber." His thought-commands rippled outwards across every communications channel available. "I will be commanding Nineteenth personally." This in reference to Anoat's own garrison. "When reinforcements arrive, well. We'll just have to make a ghastly enough spectacle to ensure nobody dares try this again, won't we?"

Helix's plan was a simple one: entrap the interlopers above Anoat, then finish them off when reinforcements arrived. He and Nefaron could bicker over who got to take the lion's share of any survivors later...

For now, the Formless Spawn and her accompanying fleet lumbered into battle, leveraging their profuse armament to terrifying effect. Droid starfighters scattered from hangars in great clouds, each loaded down with bizarre and esoteric weaponry.

On the surface, things were not quite so locked-down. Helix's participation in matters planetside had been less comprehensive, an oversight that he would begin remedying right away.

"Ready ground forces for deployment." Came the last order. "Objective: Locate and secure Nefaron and any other priority personnel."

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

The Dark Side swirled within the Corpse Lord, for his tower of sorcery was a weapon in itself. Strong and shielded, it was likely the safest part of the fortress.

The shuttle ramp hit the polluted soil of Anoat with a thud and all within charged out at a dead run - Gerra at the lead. He wore a mask upon his face for the foul red storm which churned about them like a sandstorm was a thing of toxins and poison.

More shuttles landed under cover of the storm and more Vahlans, Hapans, and House Marr warriors poured forth. They all rushed for the walls of the fortress which stood by, looming out of the storm.

Most would think that to assail such a place they would need great siege engines or an orbital strike. Perhaps they might. But Gerra had a plan at hand.

More drop pods had landed inside the fortress itself to sow chaos - those outside the fortress would soon link up with them… once the wall was dealt with.

“Forward!” He roared, charging straight for the wall with his Sith sword in one hand and his hammer at his waist.

The fortress rallied its forces to oppose them.

In the orbit above, starfighter tangled with each other like eagles locking talons and spinning round and round before one or both burst into flames. A vast ballet of death. The capital ships exchanged broadsides, pouring in great volleys of turbolaser fire into one another as they passed.

The great consciousness of the Helix stirred and turned against the Armada.

But for this too, Gerra had a secret weapon.

“Arris, the Droid Brain stirs from slumber. See to it as you saw to the Death Star.”

Allies: Arris Windrun , Ansisa , Revna Marr , Mercy Alcariel
Enemies: Darth Nefaron Lirka Ka Helix Eurydice

 

[Lirka Ka]

ENEMY TAGS - Ansisa Hasuras Na-Gerra Vesper Thrace
ALLIED TAGS - Darth Nefaron Helix

Blood for blood. Violence begets violence. All things moved within the calculus - the bout on Fiviune and the ripples it brought alongside it would not go unanswered. Indeed, they simply could not go unanswered. If new power were to rise they would be challenged - obstacles presented by the Primordial Darkness beyond for them to either crumble before or overcome. The beautiful violence unbound of Sith brawling with Sith once more - lawless and chaotic.

Except of course...for those who needed to follow the laws.

Rank had given Lirka many a privilege, but denied her so many more. In official capacity, there was little for her to deploy, the Third Legion would stay beyond the Blackwall as was decreed. As an envoy of the Empire - a Dark Councilor - she could only bring herself to such a personal matter, with no declaration of governmental intent behind it. It was for the best, Lirka pondered. Darth Nefaron could do with a good punch to the jaw, loss was a wonderful teacher of the Dark Path after all. Yet, she'd lend her blade to her kindred regardless.

For Lirka Ka had that strange quirk of appearing exactly where she needed to be, crawling out of some festering hovel from darkness-only-knew where. Nefaron had been such a gracious host before - and now he would be host once more to guests unasked. Through the tower that swirled with the malign energies of the Dark Side, a tiny void shuffled through the storm on whining legs that seemed not to have moved in some time. With each step, writhing meat settled and unused machinery shook off the dust.

It was not the Majordomo that spoke next, but a rasping thing whose distorted voice sounded like two metal sheets scraping together. Whatever had presented itself today had evidently been there for some time.

"How quickly does that which was safe devolve to war..."

Of all of them, it was Nefaron who had planted himself so firmly in one place. And now here was this thing that certainly looked like Lirka, talked like Lirka, and while albeit sluggishly, moved like Lirka to remind him that fact.

The monster moved, not looking down upon the growing inferno that bubbled as the landers made planetfall - and how quickly did one get reminded of how quickly walls became a facade. Foreigners allowed to trample upon Sith soil - the old-Emperor, wherever he buggered off to, would certainly be rolling in his metaphorical grave with this disgracing of the Blackwall.

 

[Eurydice]

When Marr's Vengeance began rippling over Anoat, Eurydice was in the citadel's library. Where she always was, lately.

Coming under attack was nothing new – after all, Nefaron had ripped the girl from her home world during an assault much like this one. He'd brought her onto battlefields and immersed her in unpleasant experiences, and still, this never became any easier.

It did become simpler, though.

Gerra's incessant broadcast was answered with Nefaron's voice, carrying like screaming storms that ravaged Anoat's surface. Eurydice paused whilst stuffing one of her favored tomes into the billowing bodice of her robe.

"Invaders have come to avenge House Marr. Instead, they will find only death! So come to me, my creatures! Come forth to the slaughter!"

An unpleasant shiver wracked through her entire being, the Seer's body trying to reject Nefaron's will as if it were a viral invader. So much of her time was spent afraid, but now, she was on the cusp of a new depth of terror.

It would almost be exquisite, if it hadn't been so nauseating.

The door to the library opened with a hiss, and Eurydice finally found her ability to move. She whirled around, stilted, to see DD-421 waiting at the threshold.

Her shoulders relaxed, but not by much. Without a word to the droid, she padded her way over and fell into pace behind him.

Allies: Darth Nefaron Helix
Enemies: Hasuras Na-Gerra Ansisa Vesper Thrace Lirka Ka

 

[Darth Nefaron]

The chaotic battle in space grew into a frenzy with the arrival of Nefaron's fellow triumvirs and servants of evil, but the fact remained that foreign boots trampled the blackened surface of Nefaron's fortress world, and that could not be allowed to stand. While part of the force remained sealed outside the fortress and forced to assail its walls, others slipped past the air defenses to assault Nefaron's home from within. While the central spire remained secure, several defensive towers, control centers, and slave pens were now in the grasp of the foe. From his perch, the Dark Lord could unleash his terrible power, but he could not command the flow of battle now that it was within the walls.

It was time that Darth Nefaron entered the fray.

But the question of his Apprentice remained, for Eurydice was not ready for battle. Still, her powers were growing, and the Terror Lord had long held a suspicion that her abilities as a Seer might just grant her access to another unique ability, one that was ever rarer amongst force users. Yet with local communications down, Nefaron would have to use his dark power to speak to his Apprentice directly, to enter into her mind and deliver his terrible commands.

The process was not without pain. But she would grow accustomed to it.

"Apprentice. You are to seal yourself within my tower. Rise to the pinnacle and meditate on the Dark Side. Let your fear, your anger, your rage take hold of you and cast your mind to our forces. Drive them on, use them to unleash your emotions in ways you cannot."

Though he did not directly touch on the ability, it was the Corpse Lord's dark hope that Eurydice would become a practitioner of battle meditation, or at least a form of it. With the Dark Side itself taking command of his forces, Nefaron could revel in the slaughter without fear of his troops being beaten back by the superior skill of the enemy. With his command delivered, the Dark Lord leapt from his tower, his cloak fluttering in the wind as the force eased his fall. He wasted little time entering battle when he at last reached the ground, for the first poor fool to cross paths with the Terror Lord was a soldier of House Marr, perhaps one who had rallied to Darth Strosius? No, Strosius would have come himself instead of sending a servant.

This was the work of another. One who bore the name Marr and yet preferred others to carry out their dirty work.

It hardly mattered to the poor soldier, though, who had little time to react before Nefaron unleashed a current of lightning so powerful that the poor man practically melted in his armor. Two more rushed toward the Sith as his back was turned, but they were quickly met by a blast of energy that sent them flying backward into the black stone of Nefarons fortress. Their bones cracked, and their lungs let out a final pained gasp before they expired.

Now that their Dark Lord had joined them, the forces of the Corpse Legion had begun to rally to Nefaron. One of the warlords rushed to him, blood covering his armor as he knelt.

"Lord, we await your command."

"Reinforce the walls. If they approach the slave pens, slaughter those we hold. I will not let valuable slaves fall into the hands of our rivals."

"Yes, Great Lord."

"No mercy. Bleed them, let them know pain and fear before they face the void."

"As you command!"

A great and terrible cry went up as the group with Nefaron rushed to battle, and Nefaron, for his part,t at last pulled his lightsaber from his waist. Its crimson blade would taste flesh and blood once more, and though his anger was great, the Corpse Lord rushed to battle with a horrid grin on his face.

He would slaughter them all.

ALLIED TAGS: Eurydice Helix Lirka Ka
ENEMY TAGS: Hasuras Na-Gerra Alcariel Ansisa Revna Marr Vesper Thrace ​

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

Blasterfire poured from the walls, felling many of Gerra's raiders there within the storm before they even reached the fortress. But at last, Gerra stood apace of the mighty walls. He drew back his hammer hand, eyes blazing as he peeled back the layers of reality and looked upon the bulwark with the vision born of the Force until he located the shatterpoint of the wall. Then his hammer flew from his hand and struck that precise point. There came a deafening explosion, then the wall collapsed, caving in as though obliterated by an orbital laser.

Gerra and his corsairs poured through the gap, the storm whipping around them, the dust of the pulverized wall rising all around them.

In the chaos, Gerra felt a presence. Wielding his Sith sword in one hand, he stormed forward.

"Darth Nefaron," he roared, bellowing rippling through the street before him, "come stand and face me, Corpse Lord."

Enemies: Darth Nefaron | Helix | Lirka Ka | Eurydice
Allies: Revna Marr | Ansisa | Mercy | Vesper Thrace | Alcariel | Arris Windrun

 

[Vesper Thrace]

Thrace's pod had sustained some damage, such that its thrusters malfunctioned and dropped her at some distance from Hasuras Na-Gerra and the rest of his forces. Nothing insurmountable, but she found herself and her men bringing up the rear, blasters brandished. Not necessarily the best case for fighting people with lightsabers, but there were plenty of targets to shoot.

As blasterfire poured from the walls like so much candy in the aftermath of a pinata, Vesper threw herself behind a bulwark of some kind -- wreckage, she guessed, or debris. There was too much happening to take stock; what was important was that it kept blasterfire from hitting herself and her men. But then Hasuras Na-Gerra did some sort of magic -- hell if Vesper knew, really -- and sections of the wall erupted.

It blunted, but did not stop, the blasterfire. Nevertheless, the pirate lord strode forward into the breach, wielding his sword.

"Spread out," she snapped at her small strike team. "We harass the defenders on what's left of the walls. Keep them off the -- off Na-Gerra's back," Thrace amended hastily. She checked her blaster pack, nodded once, then peered out from around cover, lining up a shot. Her bolt caught a shoulder, and a volley returned, three blaster shots hitting the obstacle she was crouched behind, and two sailing through the space where her head had been moments before.

"They are good," she told the strike team dryly. "Be better."

___________________________________________________________________

Hasuras Na-Gerra | Revna Marr | Ansisa | Mercy | Alcariel | Arris Windrun
Darth Nefaron | Helix | Lirka Ka | Eurydice​

 

[Darth Nefaron]

Oh, what a battle it was.​

Anoat was already accursed, blood-soaked, and utterly corrupt, and this pirate, this vengeful gnat had come to drown it further in the raw essence of the Dark Side. As furious as he was that his stronghold was under threat, the Corpse Lord could not help but revel in all the pain, the fear, the glorious suffering that fueled his dark ambition. With saber in hand, the Sith Lord struck down raider and Marr loyalist alike, gathering more and more scattered detachments of his legion as he pushed toward the forward defenses.

He’d just finished cleaving some poor fool in two when the wall that kept the horde of invaders at bay finally broke, a thunderous crash that sent chunks of blackened stone flying into the air, some even crushing anyone too close to their impact zone. Nefaron stood, saber held off to one side as a monster of a Warlord strode through the gap created in the wall, crying for him to fight.

Instead, he laughed.

“Ah, so it is you! You saw the slaughter of the Tsis’Karr and desired to die along with them!”

Behind the Corpse Lord, his forces recovered from the initial breach in the wall and began to form ranks behind him. Black banners raised, war-beasts hungry for slaughter.

“But you are but a blade, who wields you? Some sycophant of Malum?”

Though he asked the question, Nefaron truly needed no answer. Regardless of who sent the Warlord to his doorstep, he would hunt them down and plunge their mind into an endless sea of torment to last ten thousand years. That seemed fitting punishment for one so foolish to deny the one true Dark Lord of the Sith. But that would come later, before the Corpse Lord lay a battle that he would so enjoy, especially if it meant gaining a force-sensitive being to experiment on.

“You will not die this day, that I can promise. But you will wish you did.”

The gathering storm that was the Terror Lord lashed out, a sea of stone and rubble cast out before him as an opening move. Yet he was not idle, for behind the storm of debris, Nefaron leaped into the air and brought his saber down with unnatural force for his ruined body. With him came his Legion, now rallied behind their dread master and bound to force the invaders back, especially if it meant gaining favor with the creature that haunted their dreams.

For they only feared the Terror Lord. Everything else was preferable to what awaited them should they fail.

ALLIED TAGS: Eurydice Helix Lirka Ka
ENEMY TAGS: Hasuras Na-Gerra Alcariel Ansisa Revna Marr Vesper Thrace ​

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

There stood the Lord of Fear and Terror and as he spake, Gerra felt the coiling rage crack within him. Around them, the toxic storm roared, blotting out nearly all vision and whipping Gerra's long hair about in the wind. Before Nefaron finished speaking, the Lord of Anoat hurled forth his fury at Gerra and rocks buffeted the Qhan of the Vahla. Rocks slammed into Gerra's golden armor, pinging away harmlessly but bruising skin beneath. More tore at his face, one cut a gash in his cheek drenching it in crimson. Then a particularly large bit of rubble spun toward Gerra and he smote it asunder with a single blow from his hammer. It burst into a hundred pieces that flew in all directions.

Then the Lord of Terror fell upon him and he met lightsaber with Sith sword, the collision of their blades rebounding energy in the Dark Side of the Force. Blades locked, Gerra bared his teeth in a rictus snarl.

"No weapon to be wielded am I, Darth. I come as blood boon to Revna Marr."

Shoving back to create space, Gerra spun his sword, testing the air with a thrust, then a hammer blow aimed at the Darth's shoulder.

"Fire calls to fire."

Around them, Vahlan pirates collided with the thralls of Nefaron and all became the chaos of battle.

Darth Nefaron Revna Marr Eurydice Helix Lirka Ka Alcariel Vesper Thrace Mercy Ansisa

 

[Darth Nefaron]

Nefaron was forced backward by the sheer power of the Warlord, yet his speed and nimble movement once more proved a boon as he dropped, as if he’d dropped dead, and fell to the ground as the great hammer rushed by overhead. The moment it flew past, the Terror Lord was back on his feet and laughing.

"You come to settle Lady Revna's grudge for her? Oh, do tell, what could I have done to upset her so greatly?"

With his free hand, Nefaron unleashed a wave of lightning, arcs of deadly power aimed directly for the monstrous Sith before him. In truth, the Corpse Lord needed no explanation for Revna's fury, for he knew precisely why she'd bothered sending an intermediary to settle a newfound grudge.

"Her beloved High Prophet, no, her father was humiliated. He thought that he would simply assume his place atop the throne of the Tsis'Karr? After he was so thoroughly defeated by Malum in a Kaggath? I think not."

His lightning rendered ineffective, Nefaron once more pressed forward with his saber in hand. One of Gerra's pirates got in his way and was cleaved in two for his insolence.

"She believes in the bonds of family, perhaps the only thing more pathetic than Strosius's twisted sense of honor. But the question remains, is that why you come? Because you value honor so greatly?"

Bringing his crimson blade to bear in a fierce duel, Nefaron remained quick on his feet and savage in his strikes. But not a dialogue had begun, and that was an area Nefaron was far more interested in exploring.

"She sent you to your doom. She told you nothing of the force I have gathered here, instead she intends to use you as a sacrificial pawn, simply as a warning to me that I have her ire now. I think that a terrible waste of your potential, to die here when you miss the opportunity now available to you and your marauders."

ALLIED TAGS: Eurydice Helix Lirka Ka
ENEMY TAGS: Hasuras Na-Gerra Alcariel Ansisa Revna Marr Vesper Thrace ​

 

[Revna Marr]

Direct Tags: Darth Nefaron // Hasuras Na-Gerra
Apologies for the very long delay in posting. I was in the process of buying a house and moving and it sucked the life out of me​

Revna was late in the assault against Anoat…delayed by events beyond her control, but she was here now, and she was full of bloodlust and fiery rage. She had slipped into the planet’s atmosphere to make planet-fall, using the carnage that both Nefaron’s corpse rabble and Gerra’s Vahlan warriors had left in their wake to get close. Bodies were strewn about, and some of Nefaron’s Corpse Soldiers charged towards her with blind loyalty and rage to intercept her. She didn’t hesitate - one hand rose and flexed, freezing their inertia, while her deep blood red blade sprung to life to cleave them in two, innards and gore splattering to the ground beneath their severed bodies. She didn’t stop to watch them die - she pressed onward, her white hot rage focusing her instead of distracting her.

Ahead, she could feel the pulse in the Dark Side - the violent surge of dark power that acted as a beacon for her…leading her straight towards the inner courtyard where the Corpse Lord of Anoat, and the behemoth that was Gerra, were fighting.

Revna slowed her advance; neither of them seemed to be aware of her presence, but she had already ensured that at least Nefaron would not be aware of her - though Gerra was a different story, due to their shared Vahlan blood…or something. She had hidden herself in the Force, a skill she had long since mastered, being trained by those who had been in turn trained by the Pale Assassin herself. Revna did not truly fancy herself as a Sith assassin - it was a skill set she had learned and could fall into at a moment’s notice, should it be required of her - but she was more than that. More than what any of her “betters” saw her as. She could flow and fit into any position or place she so desires…a chameleon, amongst vipers.

The Disciple of Darth Strosius listened to the vitriol that spewed from the Corpse Lord’s horrid mouth. His reasons were laughable, his hatred for the thing called family and honor oh so clear to her. It painted the picture for her as to why and how her own brother would have betrayed her and his family. Nefaron was a poison, a cancer, and she would excise him. If he had his way…the Sith wouldn’t rise for it, it would fall and rot away. Everything would…she felt that in her very bones, her soul.

Despite the bloodlust she felt surging through her veins, the white hot fury that burned like wildfire through her, she smiled.

Revna let her Force concealment fade away, the full chilling aura of her presence making itself known. It was like a black hole sucking everything towards it, towards an inevitable doom. She stood there, at Gerra’s back some distance away, oh so small compared to his giant frame.

Her eyes weren’t on him or his Vahlan comrades, but on Nefaron. She was still smiling at him, as fire burned in her eyes.

“Gerra knew what he was walking into when he agreed to this. And no one fights my battles for me. I fight them myself. Come, Nefaron…You know exactly why I am here. And it has nothing to do with my Master, nor what you did to the pathetic remnants of the Tsis’Kaar…good riddance in my opinion anyway…”

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

Lightning crackled from the Lord of the Dead's fingers but drew into Gerra's Sith Sword, drawn there as a rod draws bolts in a storm. He sought to meet the Sith blow for blow, but he had never been a skilled swordsman. His was fury and Sith magic, not the elegance or grace of a reaping blade.

Nefaron's attack pressed the hulking Vahlan back, step by step, and he ground his teeth as he weathered both the assault and the verbal tirade. A blow slipped through, striking the alchemical alloy of his breastplate and leaving a scorching sear diagonally across his chest that would have cloven him in two but for the armor.

This Sith might be his match with the blade, but in raw strength? Gerra readied himself, then Revna Marr spoke herself and he felt her presence grow like a torch in the dark.

He nodded grimly, hair whipped about his face by the wind as Revna said her peace.

"I came simply because she asked," power coalesced at the tip of Gerra's sword, the energies of the stored lightning channeled into a mote of hate, "And if you think me a mere pawn..."

Power exploded from the tip of Gerra's sword as he pointed it at Nefaron, a ball of searing hatred the size of a boulder ripped through the air so hot and destructive that it could melt flesh beneath armor and incinerate bare flesh in a blink.

"Think again."

Darth Nefaron Revna Marr ​

 

[Darth Nefaron]

So the snake herself had come.
​

Nefaron's face turned sour as his dead eyes found the servant of Strosius; true hate coursed through his black veins as he gathered his power once more. Yet despite his claims to be the pinnacle of power, Darth Nefaron found himself distracted by this new enemy, blind to the oncoming strike from the enemy he should have focused on. At the absolute last minute, a chunk of Anoat's surface arose to block the Warlord's terrible showing of hatred, but it was not enough. The chunk of stone shattered, and the Corpse Lord was sent backward, crashing into the base of his citadel tower in a cloud of dust.

For a moment, the battle that raged around the three Sith seemed to settle as all watched, seeing if at last Darth Nefaron had died his final death.

It was not to be, however. From the dust arose a shadow of malice, a being who knew little more than hatred and fear, and above all else desired nothing more than to see his enemies fall before him in madness. His robe was in tatters, one of his arms dangled as if it was broken, and his jaw appeared dislocated. To the untrained eye, it appeared Darth Nefaron was on the brink of death when, in reality, he had simply paid for a mistake, one he was not keen to make again. Bones cracked, flesh and sinew twisted, but soon Nefaron's body was able to put itself back together, the Dark Side being all the medicine he could ever need.

"This is my world. My throne. The blood of thousands has been spilled here, a monument to fear and terror and pain. All of this is my doing, and you think you can have victory here?"

Soon, the Sith Lord began to rise into the air, the storm above strengthening, lightning crackling above as Nefaron rose ever higher. Whatever Anoat had been before his arrival no longer mattered, for so poisoned was this world that Darth Nefaron had made it his own forever, a pet that obeyed his will and his will alone. From above, a great bolt of lightning struck into a crowd of pirates and Legionaries alike. But soon enough, Nefaron had command, and he sent a bolt directly toward the mastermind of this entire scheme, the pathetic slave of the High Prophet. Yet his full wrath was not to be focused on her, no, for there was another who needed to learn his place.

Reaching, Nefaron's lightsaber returned to his hand, and he raised it high above his head as he fell back to Anoat's surface at a terrible speed. The moment he touched down, he unleashed another set of terrible blows against the Warlord, seemingly reinvigorated following his little speech.

"You think yourself clever? You think yourself above manipulation? Revna believes herself so mighty, and yet she does not lead; she waits for you to throw yourself against my fortress, to watch your followers die before she dares to grace the battlefield herself. You, Qhan of the Vahla, will always be a puppet; it is only a matter if you serve that fool or if you bow before the true power in this galaxy."

The Terror Lord would hear no more of the daughter of House Marr, so it was time Anoat revealed one of her secrets. There was a good reason that Nefaron was called the Corpse Lord.

The dead of Anoat were rising. Gnawing teeth and brittle bones, all coming to rip the daughter of Strosius apart.

Revna Marr Hasuras Na-Gerra ​

 

[Eurydice]

"Apprentice. You are to seal yourself within my tower. Rise to the pinnacle and meditate on the Dark Side. Let your fear, your anger, your rage take hold of you and cast your mind to our forces. Drive them on, use them to unleash your emotions in ways you cannot."

Eurydice's breathing hitched so hard that she nearly gagged. Nefaron's voice was an unpleasant, unwelcome intrusion within her mind - and another reminder that she did not truly own herself.

Fortunately, he'd commanded her to remain here. Something adjacent to relief eased a little tension from her shoulders.

"Come," was her only command to the guards, soft and wavering. They followed without question, and made for the highest spire with Nefaron's lesser apprentice.

As Eurydice ascended the tower, she tried not to glance out each passing window. Crackles of lightning still threw blue tones over her frightened visage. At last, she reached the tower's keep, tucked her legs beneath her, and began meditating.

The Force heave and groaned, perilously so, with the onslaught surrounding her. Titans in the Force exchanged earth-shattering, bone-chilling blows.

A lingering fear had made its home in Eurydice's mind. She was never without it - and now, under duress, it grew. Not into a monster, but into sharp pulses. In the great churning waves of the Force, she was a ripple. A shiver down the spine of Nefaron's forces.

Fear. Let it grow. Fear. Let it be your dauntless strength.

Darth Nefaron Revna Marr Hasuras Na-Gerra

 

[Revna Marr]

Tags: Darth Nefaron // Hasuras Na-Gerra // Eurydice ​

The moment before Revna played out in real time, but also slowly - as if time itself wanted her to remember this moment. The moment her presence was noted by both Darth Nefaron and Gerra, things devolved - or perhaps evolved - quickly.

First came Gerra’s affirmations that he had come because she had asked - not because he was her pawn. And he wasn’t; Gerra was a free man. He could come and go as he pleased and Revna held no chain or shackle around his neck. She hadn’t demanded his aid, his sword, his people. She had asked him to join her, and he had agreed willingly.

It was risky, yes - Revna was well aware of the risks. He was a pirate lord after all; if this situation turned sour for him and his ilk, he could very easily turn on her. She expected it - though she prayed to Bogan he did not. She didn’t desire to turn her own violence towards another she might be able to call kin…or an ally.

Next to be felt was Nefaron’s black hatred for her, and she felt him draw power from the Dark Side, no doubt in an attempt to attack her. But Nefaron made an error when he focused on her instead of the foe directly in front of him. Revna tsked softly in disappointment, just like her Father might have, as she watched the next scene unfold. Gerra’s attack blasted into the Corpse Lord. He tried to fend off the attack, but it was just not enough.

Eyes of fire traced the figure of the robed Sith Lord as he was flung backwards and into the base of his own citadel, crumpling down and growing still. For a moment, everyone held their collective breath. Was he dead?

Revna knew better - she’d been around Dark Lords enough before to know they always had a trick or two up their sleeve. She stepped further away from Gerra and his fighting comrades, knowing that she would be the target of at least one of Nefaron’s attacks. It wasn’t that she didn’t think the giant red head Vahla warlord could handle himself, but it was just in her nature to look after her allies and her kin. Revna silently built a shield around herself, and watched the place where Nefaron lay inert.

Just as she figured, the Lord of Anoat wasn’t an easy one to kill. He wouldn’t have risen to his status and his place if he had been, after all.

It made him a worthy adversary. A worthy rival.

Even if he seemed about to fall apart at the seams.

"This is my world. My throne. The blood of thousands has been spilled here, a monument to fear and terror and pain. All of this is my doing, and you think you can have victory here?"

“This isn’t about victory, Nefaron. This is about retribution. Vengeance. And because I can. ...Who is going to stop me?” Revna said scathingly as the Sith Lord rose into the air, unconcerned as he began to gather more and more power around himself. She had a feeling what he was building up to, and she eagerly awaited it. Fire burned in her eyes and in her veins, the Dark Side coming to life within her. Black veins around her eyes and temple pulsed as she gave herself to the Darkness that welled within her.

Just as she thought he might, Nefaron cast a great bolt of lightning down at her. Revna, with her own mastery of Sith Lightning firmly in her command, reached up a hand to call that bolt to her - allowing it to strike directly. Pain erupted through her veins, but it only fed her further. A lesson learned many times from the Butcher King himself - a lesson she had hated, but now came to embrace.

And just like her Master had taught her many years prior, when she’d been just a young Acolyte, Revna took possession of Nefaron’s own lightning, and cast it out from her in reddish-purple forks of electrical power that fried his own servants, cooking them - but sparing any of Gerra’s allies in the process - well, those that had not been the target of Nefaron’s secondary Force lightning attack that was.

Nefaron dropped back down into the fray with speed, his crimson lightsaber arching violently in blows wrought against the Warlord. Revna kept any of Nefaron’s servants off of Gerra and his allies, cutting them down whenever and wherever they cropped up, drawing in the maelstrom of negative emotions into herself to feed her own power. The hate, the anger, the fear - it was all a feast that she took from.

But lightning wasn’t the only thing that Nefaron was capable of; Revna listened as he went on a verbal rampage once more, directed at Gerra in another attempt to try and push the Warlord to turn on her, and she scoffed softly to herself. He was pulling at anything he could, weaving his version of the story, in order to suit his own needs.

How…pathetic.

Revna was grinning cruelly, a side of her so rarely revealed. Even as she felt foul sorcery at work. She recognized it instantly. Her to-be husband was a Dark Lord who specialized in fell necromantic powers, afterall. And she had learned a thing or two from him.

“Oh Nefaron…you monologue just like my Master. Seems you two are far more alike than you think.” Words spoken with poisonous sweetness to irk the Sith Lord into a further rage. This was fun for her - even as the dead began to rise again. Revna’s eyes burned brighter, coals set against a darkened void.

This side of Revna Marr, would be a side that very few had ever witnessed. This…was not an acolyte. This was a Sith proper. One who truly embraced who they were. Her chilling aura grew deeper and colder, and it turned into a vacuum - drawing in power towards herself like a leech. She spoke words in the language of Sith sorcery, and out from her shadow came several creatures wrapped in necromantic sorcery themselves.

They were Korribani Jen’koshu, convinced to come to her call, though they were loyal to Korriban's Sith King. They would obey her, for she was an extension of Caedes.

"Titji ri tsûduma tutito ki nutra. Imrsosûti ri Vahlan kitidirsa. Zudyti dziu aniu." Revna said to them in High Sith, before turning her full attention upon Nefaron and Gerra once more.

"...If you wish to leave with what remains of your kin, Gerra, I will not stop you. You need not risk yourself any further on my behalf."