The Wild Dark - Mirialan Genocide

[Zambrano the Starweird]

Mirial...​

The Time-Rift Armada...​

Aboard The Primeval Class Star Destroyer "Balagoth"​

​

Below him, there stood yet another world, much like Dantooine (now burning behind his wake). This would receive a far more severe punishment. Dantooine had served as an awakening among the Primeval, that the winds of change were in the air, that no longer could the sit about waiting for the Host Lord to walk out of her doors... that it was time to accept the Greatest Dynasty of the Primeval had fallen. Now as the time for a new Dynasty to form... a Dynasty of Terror.

Unlike Dantooine however, this world would not burn. This world would not be destroyed, and reduced to ash in the Cauldron of battle and war... no, this world was to bleed. This world was to be culled. This world would be sent to the slaughterhouse for his own purposes. The Primeval would bathe in blood, and then be borne of it... as a Bloodborne should do.

Yet, he could not do such a thing alone. Thus, a grand message had be sent through all of wild space, and to the allies of the Primeval... that a grand exchange of arcane knowledge would be granted to any and all who would come to Mirial, and partake in the Warlord's proclivities. For the evolution of the Primeval to be met, to be alchemized into a new blade of conquest, it had to forged in the blood of self-slaughter... sacrificed for the greater good of the gods themselves. To honor them in the conquest of one's self, and what was the conquest of one mad man? No true conquest consisted of one, and thus he welcomed others to slit the throat of this world as Sacrifice to the Primeval gods.

The Warlord touched down upon the world, and erected a new structure on the planet... through the use of dark mysterious magicks, sinew and flesh weaved themselves together from nothing more than dirt and stone. No longer was the Blood Witch confined to the blood of others, when blood could be drawn from stones. Only he, had the divine proclivity to draw blood from lifeless entities.

"Welcome to the pinnacle of a new era, derived from the vestiges of the ancient occult. If you come to learn, enter this womb of the arcane..." These are the worlds that would be spoken to the first to arrive.

[member="Lord Ajihad"], [member="Auzga Xalor"], [member="Ostanes"], [member="Braith Achlys"], [member="Loxa Visl"], [member="Kadri Ughad"], [member="Darth Pikiran"], [member="Judas Foster"]

 

[Auzga Xalor]

It was a dark day for the galaxy, the Primeval's rage has sparked destruction upon Dantooine for one thing and now Mirialan was under the wrath of a great darkness, like a cloud, a cancer upon the galaxy. A wonderful cancer at that thought. Though, their was another reason it was a dark day. A tomb had been opened up deep within the caves of Sullust, unleashing a creature of dread and terror that once terrorized the galaxy. But not as a Sith nor Jedi, but as a war-monger, as a great warrior. A Vong is what had released this dreaded yet intelligent creature from it's tomb that it was trapped in long ago.​

​

The very same creature was take to this warship and thus the planet below after the creation of a magnificent structure embedded within the planet's soil, like a infection taking hold. Which would suck the planet dry of all it's people, resources, machinery...everything it held dear, or it's inhabitants held dear to it.​

​

A Sickly Pale creature stood in front of the grotesque Hutt, [member="Zambrano the Hutt"], standing well above the surrounding guards yet mostly unarmored save for battle-worn armor from the creature's glory days. Then, it's mouth moved ever so slightly and then more and more, as if it was trying to muster words. The words it had mustered down from it's steel heart were that of vengeance, anger, and most of all, a lust to dominate the Republic and Sith as it once wanted to do long ago. "What_Is this time we are in? What ever happened to the ancient Sith Empire and the Old Republic, so much has changed....save one thing. War, War never changes, save for those who fight the war." The creature's mouth twisted into a twisted grin of dominance and pride before it's lips formed to announce words once more. "I am Auzhan'ga Vanci'lus Xalorin...and you?!"​

​

[member="Lord Ajihad"] [member="Ostanes"] [member="Braith Achlys"] [member="Loxa Visl"] [member="Kadri Ughad"] [member="Darth Pikiran"] [member="Judas Foster"]​

 

[Ruby Rose]

Ruby descended upon Mirial in the Dark Crescent, her highly militarized YT1300. Master Sebet was right...there is most definitely something off balance here disturbing the force, something that must be amended. She activates the stealth capabilities of her craft, noticing the Primeval Star destroyer hanging over the planet, holding steady in a low orbit, prepared to react to whatever they do.

After Dantooine, I'm not letting them destroy another peaceful world, damn their stupid religion and this blood lust. Too many innocents have died already. She sets the auto pilot and goes down into the depths of her craft, donning her armor and weaponry as she takes a knee, offering a silent prayer to those who have parted. "I will do what I must to keep the balance as the balance is what keeps me together. There is no good without evil, but evil must not be allowed to flourish. I am the wielder of the flame, the protector of balance. I am the holder of the Torch, lighting the way. I am the keeper of the flame, soldier of balance. I am a Guardian of the Balance. They will not stop me, they will fall"

 

[Matreya]

Wind rushed against his hair, stretching his cloak back to whip to and fro in a snake like fashion, all the while he plummeted. He had, mere seconds ago, leapt from the exit ramp of a random frigate. He was told that the Hutt that was so vital to the Primeval was now attempting to decimate another planet, as he had recently done to Dantooine. Thus he would show himself for the first time since his new body had been crafted, and his essence placed in it. He would see his new capabilities in action against a true battle, as it was he expected this - but it wasnt certain, for they may simply raze the people and planet to the ground.

While it had before seemed about a minute to the perception of his mind, this fall now seemed far more and longer; it felt as if a legitimate several minutes had already passed. In the time he had enjoyed the oddly relaxing sensation of the wind blowing against his hair and face, He had enjoyed it plenty of times before, however with the processing speed he was now capable of, it seemed like everything came in slow motion to him, so he could enjoy - or loathe in the cases of pain - the time as it came. Flipping himself over to his back, so that he faced skyward, he smiled deeply at the utter feeling of freedom.

But then the time came when, he could recognize the need to right himself, and he turned back towards the ascending ground. Opening his palms, he summoned the Force, and in the instance, a massive wind flux came up from under him. It slowed him instantly, but didn't cease instantly, instead it allowed his fall to be a graceful touch down. When he did so, he cast his eyes about as he folded his arms, gazing at the Hutt through his HUD. His Beskar'gam shown with a brilliant waxing, his Coat draped over it, concealing his weapons that lay beneath.

"Why are we here Zambrano? What is the point?" He asked through the speakers, "I don't understand your goals recently."

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

This was a risk, and Ostanes knew it, knew it precisely and deeply. And so he had shifted his form, utterly and completely. To one most would regard with shock or disdain. Exar Kun stalked forward, though the power exuding from this form was nowhere near as such as what the revered Sith Lord had once possessed. But still, the visage would serve its purpose. There was only one other here, landing in a show of theatrics and Force Power, who might recognize him by aura alone. And with that, he did as another had taught him, and that he had studied well since, shrinking his aura and presence in the Force to nothing. Only if Damien pried contentedly and purposely would he pierce such a veil.

Stepping forward, he blinked yellow tinged eyes and nodded at Damien, as if supporting his words, the lightsaber at his hip a cruelly fang-tipped thing that fairly glistened with poison dripping down it's curves.

"I concur, Zambrano... What is the meaning of this display?"

[member="Lord Ajihad"], [member="Auzga Xalor"], [member=Zambrano the Hutt], [member="Braith Achlys"], [member="Loxa Visl"], [member="Kadri Ughad"], [member="Darth Pikiran"], [member="Judas Foster"]

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

"Welcome, [member="Auzga Xalor"], I am the Black Prophet of Balagoth, Warlord to the Chiloon Rift, Zambrano the Hutt. I have come here to drown the world in the blood of carnage, for the greater good of the faith. Their sacrifice shall not be in vain, for it shall serve a higher purpose, whether or not they are willing to bleed... I welcome you old warrior, to my abodes!" His hand stretched inward into the fleshy construct of black, alchemical flesh which rose from the ground unnaturally out of nothing. Then, it was [member="Darth Pikiran"] who arrived, followed by an unknown figure to him... who held an appearance he had a vague remembrance of, and the bearings of the dark side. They question him, above all else, of his motives... his plan.

"The point? Goals? These are meaningless conjectures! Only the will of the gods may be served, that is the point! That is the goal! The Host Lord is dead, and not for a battle or a test of faith... she is dead, as proof and evidence to our desperate state. We have been DISOWNED! To garner Their attention once more, we must prove to them we have not lost our will to unblind the galaxy. This world, as was Dantooine, shall be a proof to that drive." The Hutt turned at the foot of the fleshy gate, his slimy tail whipping behind him as he turned his back upon the newcomers who doubted him.

"The only sure language the gods speak, is that of the blood... their eyes though are too large to see our mortal scripture... thus the blood must be extensive... an ocean... though I may squeeze blood from stones, I am but only one, and the blood of stones is poor and dilute. I have already lit the lights on Dantooine for which the gods may see our new scripture...we need only now write the proper Genocide..." A sick smile twisted itself upon the serpent's face, as he crawled slowly into the structure, as more knowledge seekers arrived at the foot of the Bone Cathedral. The Warlord expected them to enter with him, to be guided by his slow charge into the damp empty rooms filled with the potential of horrors.

"Do you seek the knowledge to make the heavens weep in joyous laughter?"

[member="Lord Ajihad"], [member="Auzga Xalor"], [member="Braith Achlys"], [member="Loxa Visl"], [member="Kadri Ughad"], [member="Darth Pikiran"], [member="Judas Foster"], [member="Ostanes"]

 

[Judas of Vahl]

Chaos was something that could never be chained, never tied down to one spot, with only the strongest being able to take the reins of such a wildly devastating and primal force. In all of his days, Judas had never known anyone for being capable of doing so - even he himself could not conjure enough black manifestations of the Force so sickly in appearance and cruel in nature to wreck havoc across the galaxy.

Yet someone who claimed he could sat before him.

Fat, bulbous, and disgustingly ugly. The thing bore the title of Zambrano, of which Judas knew was a ever-spanning dynasty of some of the most despicable beings known to the galaxy. That very reputation worked in the Hutt's favor as Lord Foster knew of a certain Voice of the Dark Lord. However, he had no clue as to how this chubby warlord managed to concoct such a gathering of individuals - not to mention the fleet in the high orbit of Mirial.

Judas listened but the words were empty, hollow, and full of nothing that he really wanted from this endeavor. He had no thirst for knowledge, no desire to intertwine his affairs with that of the decaying faction of the east.

He craved strength, power; all of these primal and carnal desires seethed from his very being. He loomed in the backdrop, a shadow of great stature and disposition and continued to listen - to wait until he was released upon this world.

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"], [member="Ostanes"], [member="Darth Pikiran"], [member="Ruby Rose"], [member="Auzga Xalor"]

 

[Ruby Rose]

Ruby was quickly growing sick of this waiting game, knowing that this far away from the lines of her allies she was unlikely to receive aid. Waiting isn't an option any more, if they are allowed to land on the planet there is little she could to contain the havoc that the Primeval would enact upon the world.

I guess its time to bring back that old identity.. She inwardly cringed, the thought of going by Darth Thorn again was almost as blasphemous to her as what the Primeval were doing to worlds, but they needed to be stopped.

She changed her normal cloak and armor for her old, much darker set from her days on Korriban under Darth Dromotok, the old Sith Lord she had slain as part of her trials to become a Defender of the Jensaari. Ruby donned the black cloak, the blood red trim of it going along with her deep crimson hair as she lifted the hood up over her head, moving back up to the pilots chair and dropping the cloaking on her ship as she approached the Primeval Star Destroyer.

The revolting blob of a Hutt that was responsible for these atrocities was on board that ship. She allowed her rage to fuel her, but not envelop her. She would need her wit about her to pull off what she had in mind.

As she approaches the Cruiser she hails it, not attempting to mask her location but prepared to take evasive maneuvers if needed. <This is Darth Thorn aboard the YT1300 Designated the Dark Crescent hailing the Balagoth I'm coming aboard and I would like an audience with the one in charge of this, invasion.. I want in, and you will let me>

[member="Judas Foster"][member="Zambrano the Hutt"] [member="Ostanes"] [member="Darth Pikiran"]

 

[Lord Ajihad]

The Fist of the Demon was about to enter into a rather awkward situation. Just a couple months ago, he had 'accidently' killed some sort of Jawa friend of [member="Zambrano the Hutt"], causing the Warlord to ascend to godhood. Perhaps some would be grateful towards someone who was the catalyst for their transcendance. However, the Hutt didn't seem be full of joy in that fateful moment. He had instead proceeded to raise an army of the dead in attempt to kill the assassin.

Before showing up at the designated location, Ajihad had pondered on whether or not to hide his presence in front of the Hutt. Though Zambrano was rather powerful, the assassin was confident he could have hidden his true identity if need be. After much thinking, however, he had decided against such actions. He hadn't seen the Hutt since Korriban, maybe his attitude towards the situation had changed since then. How the Black Prophet reacted to the assassin's presence would determine which side he would take in this brewing civil war within the faction, and affect his presence within the Primeval altogether.

The assassin stood in the shadows as the Hutt made his speech, force presence shrunk down to the size of an atom. After he had finished, Ajihad would uncloak his physical form, and emerged into the small congregation that had assembled. "I was summoned?" He would also offer a nod to the only other person there he knew, a man he knew as Damien Daemon.

[member="Judas Foster"] [member="Ostanes"] [member="Darth Pikiran"] [member="Ruby Rose"]

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

There would be a moment of pause between when the Dark Crescent contacted the Balagoth, and when she received a brief burst of static. This was her first clue that she may have been already too late. Suddenly a voice came "alive" aboard the much smaller frigate ship of this supposed "Darth Thorn", it was the AXIOS A.I. still present on the ship, even in spite of a lack of significant living crew... living crew that were not slaved and subjected to the horrendous transmogrification the Witch Hutt had recently taken a liking too.

Designation Dark Crescent, the procession has already arrived at the designated rendezvous. Permission to board denied. Redirect course to rendezvous immediately. Operation start is imminent. Do try to be more punctual for future operations.

There would also be a moment of pause as the Warlord finished his religiously bent point of view on exactly what it was he was doing. His tentacled hands traced the sinew the made up the little fort his guests had arrived in, leaving a visible trail of scars, where the residue of his acid pained the unnatural creature... which was difficult to argue as truly being alive. Finally, they would enter a gigantic mantel within the fort, the flesh black and faintly pulsating at a central basin where a green mist rose from and spilled over onto the floor nearest to it. Various pods hung from the ceiling, or where otherwise infused into the walls... what was contained within those pods? If his speech had been any indication... sacrificial bodies of his victims. Coffins composed of muscle and stomach tissue.

"I speak yet hear silence... I see the ignorance of heathens, but taste the power and will they hold to issue the action I desire... so then, let not my words dissuade your motivation. If you've soldiers, now is the time for blood!" The Black Prophet arrived at the black-bone cauldron and and thrust his arms to the air, giving rise to the eerie mists that oozed from it. The whole structure trembled to the beckoning of those tendrilled hands. It quavered at the will of its creator... however broken he may be. Deep roots had taken hold of Mirial by this abomination upon its surface, a giant blight that rested just outside the limits of desert town of Mirialans. They had seen the unfamiliar Primeval ships arrive, and had been quartered up into their ancestral homes by the resident Warlord, who had been bent to Zambrano's demands. Although some towns have yet to reply, a vast many of them had been grouped up into neat little slaughterhouses just waiting to be devoured by the agents of Balagoth. A momentary flare of rage visibly fell over the Hutt as soon as [member="Lord Ajihad"] revealed himself to be present... but some unseen force beyond the sight of the others visibly distracted him from a complete reaction. It remains to be seen how the Hutt may deal with this situation until later.

"My good friends, go out and kill for blood! Go out and kill for sport! Go out and kill for sacrifice! Go out and kill, to bud in the fort of a paradise! Hahaha!" The Witch Elder's hands continued to rise, and as he made his horrible simplistic rhymes, the further and further the monster began to shiver and quake. Tunnels began to open up about the room, that lead directly into these small towns, helpless in their natures, and ready to be harvested as cattle.

[member="Lord Ajihad"], [member="Auzga Xalor"], [member="Braith Achlys"], [member="Loxa Visl"], [member="Kadri Ughad"], [member="Darth Pikiran"], [member="Judas Foster"], [member="Ostanes"]

 

[Auzga Xalor]

[member="Lord Ajihad"] [member="Braith Achlys"] [member="Loxa Visl"] [member="Kadri Ughad"] [member="Darth Pikiran"] [member="Judas Foster"] [member=Ostanes]​

"The heavens, weep!? Haha, that's a good one. For they shall not weep, no...they shall bleed, for sacrifice...at seeing one of their beloved worlds again being decimated but this time....bled dry of all hope..," Auzga's voice was that of a twisted humor with that of a dark dread within it, showing first through his mouth...then his eyes.​

​

The echo of footsteps sounded nearby, as if in the direct vicinity. Auzga instinctively reacted to grabbing a weapon from his back but was disappointed. No weapon was found upon his back or his person in general. Now it made sense, why would someone bury a forsaken warrior, as ripe as the devil, with the very weapons he used to wage war with.​

​

Instead of reacting with weapons, Auzga reacted with his piercing sapphire eyes. He nostrils flared as he caught the scent of the two individuals and then the scent of another who appeared from a corner. His ice-cold eyes registered every feature of the three figures before his eyes shifted back towards [member="Zambrano the Hutt"], as the hutt slithered into the grotesque structure of flesh as dark as a night of Umbara.​

​

Auzga's legs followed the hutt into the structure first while his warrior-trained mind was processing what had happened. Who were these people? What did they want? The more important question was simple, what was their plan? Then Auzga heard it faintly and then louder, Louder, and LOUDER as his mind processed it. It started as a low drum beat and then picked up the pace to that of a heavy drum beat, echoing through forgotten temples of dread. They were planning on thwarting the hutt's plans, will more importantly, whatever this "Primeval" was.​

​

Auzga's legs then stopped in their place as his eyes looked around the chamber, at the fleshy appendages and cocoons within the chamber. Then, a grin spread upon the twisted visage of Auzga's mouth. It was the grin of a twisted humor, one of danger, dread, rage, and most of all...that of blood. The same grin Auzga had worn during his glory days of long ago.​

​

Auzga's pointed ears pricked up at the words of blood and of the drilling of tunnels. Then, a twisted grin of scorn once again took the form of Auzga's mouth. His voice was that of a deep dread and yet with a twisted humor in it as he spoke once more, directed towards the hutt, "Oh...they will cry out, to their pretender gods. While ours, will chuckle at it..they will accept the blood as a testament to them but it will never be enough for them...and that makes me smile, smile at the thought of making those who deify our gods in secrecy suffer. But first Zambrano, I seek weaponry and armor...as I have lost mine, save for my battle-worn armor though that doesn't strike fear anymore...it needs to strike fear into those who openly defy our gods, to make them cry to their gods...."​

 

[Keira Priest]

It wasn't often Keira had concrete reasons for doing much of anything. Oftentimes her escapades could be chalked up to nothing more than her own boredom and want to explore all corners of the galaxy. Such boredom was, most times, the origin of her plethora of scars and exceeding amount of combat experience besides. Despite the consequences that emerged in her old injuries and fractured mental state, she never quite seemed to learn her lesson. Always she came back for more, seeking out another challenge or another fight that would again push her beyond the limits set previously in order to discover new bounds of her own ability. It wasn't the best way to grow, but it was the quickest.

This time, however, her typical wanton nature couldn't be blamed. No, she had merely gotten turned around once she exited Silver Jedi space, and given her subpar piloting skills it wasn't too difficult to imagine such an occurrence. Unknowingly she had drifted a touch too close to what she wasn't aware was Primeval space, the only indication of any presences nearby being the blips of a number of vessels on the sensors of the small ship she sat in the cockpit of. Those assembled were nothing short of a fleet, and she recognized the danger inherent in such a gathering. The cloying toxicity of the darkness emanated from the planet below, and she knew in that moment her choice had already been made for her.

Upon landing she was almost immediately down the ramp, saber hilt in hand and ethereal senses extended well beyond her physical form. There was no doubt in her mind that each and every individual on this planet was hostile in some manner or another. The entirety of her surroundings reeked with the Dark Side, the piece of it that still resided in her core flaring outwards in response, calling out to those it recognized as kindred. For however long this battle would take she deemed to allow that inner chaos to reign free, the amber within her mottled irises seeming to ignite like flame granted new fuel to consume. An exhilarated yet relaxed sigh passed her lips, and she cracked a smile.

Her senses locked on to the presence of one she recognized as a Sith Lord ([member="Judas Foster"]), and instantly she assimilated him as her target. This wasn't her first clash with a member of that Order, and it certainly wouldn't be her last. But it was tallied up as another challenge, and it was that which the darkness within her core centered on, bringing that sole intention to the forefront of her mind. Retreating momentarily within herself she drew on a well of energy within herself that was only awakened within these moments of calm before the storm. Without hesitation she reached out to touch on this unfamiliar mind, letting the corruption that resided in the darkest recesses of her mind to emerge, speaking only two words through the Force itself.




F̡͎̱̪̝͎̯͙̈́ͨ̄͊̚͜į̖͔͕̳͉̝͆̏͋̂ͫ͒̚n̻̙̜͈͖̩͋ͨͦ͛̾̓̀̓d̶̶̟̳̻͖͙͒ͫ̎ͅ ̘̗͎̹̬̈́ͧ̾̓̉̐̐̋̍͠m̞ͧ̍̈́͛͑̅̕e̸̫͔̬̾ͦ͢.̼̻̝̙̮̙̘̀ͨ̎̒́͢



[member="Auzga Xalor"], [member="Zambrano the Hutt"], [member="Lord Ajihad"], [member="Ruby Rose"], [member="Ostanes"], [member="Darth Pikiran"]

Spoiler

This is without a doubt one of the worst decisions Keira has made in her life. Be gentle with her.

 

[Judas of Vahl]

High above the world of Mirial hung a singular Yuuzhan Vong carrier among the varied assortment of age-old Fringe vessels and newly minted Primeval warships. Though size was a factor in its aesthetic effect, there was an attention grabbing aura to it. The whole vessel was alive; living and breathing while smaller lifeforms called it their home. Coralskippers buzzed about with hivemind-like tenacity and it bristled to life the moment Judas stepped back aboard it.

"Alegar!" The Sith Lord snarled as he stormed the bridge with a scowl. "Why are we not on the ground yet?"

A taller, lankier being approached him with a cursory, toothy grin. "I was awaiting your orders, Commander. I was unsure if you had decided to throw your lot in with these... these infidels." His words were harsh, guttural, and carried an accent not of this galaxy. They tended to hate learning Galactic Basic.

Judas furrowed his brow at that for a moment, then let it rest. Alegar was no moron and Judas had observed him growing in competence with each passing battle they entered. A good leader - a good warrior.

"Fetch me my things, Subcommander."

Alegar moved quickly, past several squads of Chazrach and their Yuuzhan Vong handlers. Judas followed as well, closing in to facilitate easier access. First was the armor, slipping on perfectly as if it were crafted solely for his frame. The sword came to rest upon his side and the heavy, towering shield remained tight in his grasp.

Whatever messages sent to him in these moments, they were void. The armor he wore, the ship he stood upon were all void from the Force. They were as empty and as hollow as the words of this Huttese Zambrano, but should any challenger be willing to perish first, they would have the opportunity. The Sith Lord boarded a Yorik-trema with a detachment of his best warriors, and dropped feet-first into this halestorm aimed at the capital.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Lord Ajihad]

Ajihad nodded to the Hutt, also slightly surprised that the grotesque creature had chosen not to kill him. He would still be keeping an eye out, however. He didn't trust the black prophet to the smallest extent, as he seemed to be somewhat temperamental. The assassin generally didn't like to keep wildcards like him around, but if he wanted any sort of training, it didn't seem he didn't have all that much of a choice. The assassin took a small breath, then leapt into one of the sickly-looking black holes.

He was spat out of the ground in some sort of village, which seemed to be in the literal middle of nowhere. There weren't too many people out and about, but those who saw him began to run. Small establishments such as the village he was currently in had a reputation for being a bit superstitious, and the assassin figured random people spitting out of the ground from black portals were generally not good omens. As they ran, Ajihad stood up and brushed off his armor. He wasn't generally a huge fan of killing innocents, but he would do what he had to. A man charged at him with a shovel, and the Sith calmly raised his hand. A steam of cobalt-blue lightning shot forth from his fingers, slamming into the farmer's chest. He was sent sailing over a nearby rooftop, and into a pond.

More people began to scream and run, destroying any element of stealth he might of had. Not as if he needed it or anything. The country folk hardly presented a challenge, given their most powerful weaponry were age-old slugthrowers. That's when the assassin heard a familiar humming sound behind him. The sound of an activated lightsaber.

[member="Judas Foster"] [member="Keira Ticon"] [member="Auzga Xalor"] [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] [member="Ruby Rose"] [member="Ostanes"] [member="Darth Pikiran"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Ostanes studied the Hutt from his vantage on the fringe of the group as he walked, pondering the words. In truth, he was moved by no particular fanaticism or fervor really. The Primeval held arcane knowledge and secrets, and that was why he was here. These fools in armor or with fancy poisons and cloaks were cute, but the true power of any being was knowledge, and often that was confused with the products of knowledge. Mere toys when compared to the power of the mind and the vast energy of the Dark Side. Let the rabble... Well... Rabble on....

He would stick close to the hutt, for now, curious of this living place they traversed, and as the tunnels opened and such went on, he grinned crookedly, shaking his head. Those going first were the thirsty, the desperate. An innate part of them recognized their ignorance, their ineffective and feeble strengths, and so with bravado and blind greed, they ranted - full of sound and fury, but ultimately signifying nothing of import. Again, it was sad, really, that those of such potential would aggrandize themselves to the point of being useless. And so, he let them go, waiting for the right time to question.

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"]

 

[Matreya]

While Zambrano was a follower of Balagoth, Damien was not. Yes, the Gods were losing their faith in their followers, but there were other paths to bring them back into the light. One needn't slay a planet to do so. Damien had friends that thought like the Hutt, such as Zaiden, whom had destroyed half a planet to meet his ends. He wasn't even attempting to appease anyone other than himself. The more he thought about it though, the more he wasn't sure Zambrano wasn't as well.

But, for the time being, he would follow. Maybe be the voice that could reason with the utter darkness that he was with.

Crossing his arms, Damien strode after him. Each step slow and deliberate, almost a forced thing, as his body thrummed with the urge to move faster than he did. But he hadn't accepted his new speed personally, as it wasn't what he once had, nor was it even worth noting yet.

But something bugged him...

The face he felt he could recognize him? Who was this man? Why was he here? Unless it pertained to knowledge of the Darkside, it didn't make sense to be here. And the man bore no Force Signature at first glance..

Then it clicked. Narrowing his mental focus, Damien concentrated on the man whom to had questioned their host. Though his face wasn't instantly recognized, he began to feel he did indeed know him.

[member="Ostanes"] [member="Zambrano the Hutt"]

 

[Seris Vant]

A slaughter for blood. That was the reason [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] had given him for this butchers task. Rayl had never met this Hutt before that contact point. They were within a few thousands of kilometers at Cyborea when Sempra took it over. It was also the Cartel that mediated their deal. Rayl would provide his troops and Fleet in exchange for what they needed to keep going, hard credits, precious metals, and likely some looting. A fair deal for what they negotiated. Rayl also got something else out of the deal too. Combat experience for his forces. He didn't want to play the pirate life again. It was a rough living, and expensive since he ran capital class ships. He'd become accustomed to the criminal lifestyle, and still played an active role in the underground, but that didn't sate his darker side. What his plans had formulated to was to straighten his crews and troops from their brutish state to a well disciplined mercenary force. For hire anywhere in the galaxy to those who could afford them. Mirialan would be their jump off point.

Rayl Wilded's forces tore into the system. The Tyrant leading the charge. Not that this was a space battle but all due speed was going to be taken so that they were only fashionable late to the party. As was the style Rayl chooses to operate by. "Attention all ships. Launch for air superiority missions and land our ground forces to the designated LZ's. Remain in constant communications with the command chains and follow directions. You've got your orders. Good luck everyone. Rayl out". With that the attack from his own forces began, within the hour they'd be swarming, well everything. Rayl left the bridge to his capable first officer. He'd be going down to partake in the fun.

 

[Ruby Rose]

Ruby had heard enough, and she wasn't going to run her smaller craft into the waiting guns of a Star Destroyer, so she angled the Crescent down towards the planet below. It tore through the atmosphere, feeling out through the force for those strongly connected amongst of Primeval Landing forces below. If she could somehow cut the head off of the groups, the cowardly lower troops would flee, no longer a threat and at least some of this world could possibly be saved.

She descended rapidly, her laser turrets and ion cannon opening up and taking out a pair of drop ships mid descent. They must not be expecting much trouble, I guess its time we fix that issue. Preparing for the battle ahead she draws her hood up and walks to the freight hatch, opening it as her droid X4 pilots her craft above the city below, the civilians running around in a panic with the forces seemingly coming out of nowhere.

She drops out of the ship from fifty meters above the ground, the wind whipping her hair back behind her as she falls, the ground coming up to meet her. With barely ten meters to go she brings to focus, using the force to slow her down, levitating just a mere two feet off the ground before dropping lightly on her feet. The Jensaari ignites her saber, its blade glowing a reddish pink in the darkness of the overcast day, reflecting off of the backside of the golden bronze colored shield on her left. She glares at the sith in front of her, disdain written on her face.

"So you disgusting Primeval think its just fine to butcher these defenseless civilians for your false gods under that blob of a Hutt? You won't get it so easy today."

She fires a stream of lightning at the sith in front of her, just as he had done to the poor farmer who had merely been protecting his home. Not the emerald of a Jedi, the the blue of a sith, but the black of someone who has found the balance in the force.


[member="Lord Ajihad"]

 

[Lord Ajihad]

As the lightning streamed at him, Ajihad did something not many would expect from someone about to get fired. He simply raised his right hand, right into the course of the electricity. Instead of getting basted back, however, he simply caught the lightning as if though it were a ball of some sort. The energy from his assailant's attack was absorbed right into him, boosting his power.

The assassin eyed his new target with a tactful eye. Her skin was ghostly pale, where her hair was a dark shade of crimson. Given her mission to stop him, he would have originally pinned her as a Jedi. However, the lightning seemed to indicate otherwise. Was she a fellow Sith, or perhaps a gray Jedi? Or was she something else entirely. In the end, it wouldn't matter. Her time on this world was about to come to a close. His cybernetic eye scanned her up and down, taking note of every feature in her body. The identity scanner took a couple seconds to come up with a name: Ruby Rose.

The assassin wasn't much of a talker, but sometimes said a few words to get into his opponents' heads. This time, he would merely ignite his two red lightsabers and say, "Thank you for joining me, Ruby. I've been expecting you." In a flash he would vanish, then instantly reappear directly behind his opponent. He had used a variation on an ancient ability, one that he had devised himself. He would use one saber to lock hers, and use the other to hopefully impale her through the back. With any luck, the fight would be over before it even began.

[member="Ruby Rose"]

 

[Ruby Rose]

She stared down her opponent and his dual sabers, noting that he was probably a more aggressive style of fighter. How very much like a sith, to give into their bloodlust and just lunge straight for the throat. This wouldn't be an easy fight however, he must be highly in tuned with the force to perform tutaminis, however dark and empty the path he lead to that power was. She prepared for some sort of counter attack as he absorbed the lightning,

Expecting me? Theres no way he could have know I was coming, I just decided to come down to the planet. the jensaari thinks as the sith blinks out of existence in front of her and she feels the wind of displaced air behind her. Slightly caught off guard, she turns around as the sith strikes, her saber getting locked up by one of his as she spins aside, the second grazing off the outside of her shield, getting pinned between it and her saber.

"It seems my reputation has preceded me, unfortunately I cannot say the same for yours. If I may, what is the name of the sad and lowly sith who must resort to sneak attacks to still fail in his attempts to kill another." She smirks and her emerald eyes glow and turn an icy blue as her opponents lower left arm would start to lose feeling, the heat bleeding out of it as her cryokinesis begins to take effect.

[member="Lord Ajihad"]