The Wild Dark - Mirialan Genocide

[Lord Ajihad]

The assassin opted not to grace the grey's question with an answer, instead he decided to focus on the fight that was taking place. He felt a numbing coldness begin to crawl up his arm, Cryokinesis no doubt. Fortunately, he knew just the counter to her move. Smirking, he put his next action in motion. She would not survive their little duel.

Ajihad called on the powers of his signet , summoning the powers of fire from the ring. The cold quickly vanished from his arm, returning it to ordinary body temperature. Now for the current situation, it seemed the two combatants were rather locked up. Instead of trying to break the hold, the assassin would use it to his advantage. Due to the lock-up, his opponent would be in no position to strike him with her saber. He used his strength to hold the lock between their weapons/shields, and did something rather unexpected. His knuckles were currently angled towards her chest, which he would now use to spring his trap. Out of nowhere, a set of Yuuzhan Vong fighting claws could emerge from his hands, directly towards her chest. Given the lock, she would hopefully not be able to dodge the strike, sending the claws clean through her chest.

[member="Ruby Rose"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Slow and methodical steps took Keira through the streets of Mirial as the civilians around her did what they could to take cover from the impending assault, while what military could be assembled with such short notice was preparing for what would no doubt be very close to hell incarnate. To her it was just another fight, and now something that was more or less expected of her given her affiliation with the Galactic Republic, even if such an allyship was mostly for show. In truth this was more of a personal affair than she would ever openly admit, as her enmity with the Primeval ran deep, spawned through years of clashing on this or that battlefield, beginning with her capture all of seven years ago and cumulating most recently in this moment.

The heady perfume of the dark grew more cloying with each passing second, and instead of shying away she openly embraced such a potent corruption, letting it feed her reserves for the battle yet to come. This had been a missing piece in her life lately, the personability of true melee combat. Until then, however, she had to settle with what lesser challenge of the soldiers that had been sent planetside before the main assault touched down. It wasn't something she necessarily enjoyed, the dispatching of what was nothing more than infantry, but it sufficed until the true main event would take place. Restraint was something she had to learn through trial.

What armor she had donned granted protection from projectile weaponry, which included nothing more than the odd slugthrower or blaster. Anything more serious that equated to a lightsaber strike was apt to incur lasting damage, but she had survived so long without protective gear for a reason, and she was loath to fall this day, no matter the sentiment of the one she faced. The scars that twisted about her form were naught but the physical examples of her obstinance, and the cold, steel edge to her mottled eyes spoke of a further defiance to all the odds that told her she should have been dead years ago. Because she was still alive, and she wouldn't allow anyone to change that.

The figure of the Sith came into sight in the distance, and she couldn't help but flash a smile. Perhaps this was an example of a masochistic streak coming to light, her want for a challenge often leaving her with a new scar and a broken bone or two. But she drew strength from her pain rather than allowing herself to be subjugated by it, and that was at once her greatest benefit and weakness wrapped up in one. Only time would tell just how far such a strategy would get her in the next few moments, but she had never been the greatest at exercising foresight. Impulsivity was the name of the game, and always had been. "Going somewhere?"

[member="Judas Foster"]

 

[Ruby Rose]

She had gotten herself into quite the situation this time. Her smaller frame wasn't meant for grappling, and her larger opponent was taking advantage. The sith wouldn't trap her so easily, this Rose came packing thorns. The Jensaari hit a button on the inside of her shield and the hidden saber blades inside sprang to life(see profile pic, basically the axe head is the shield on her arm), knocking the second saber loose as she launched overhead.

Unfortunately she didn't see the claws coming as they dug into her side on the way out, luckily not hitting anything vital but were a slight distraction nonetheless. As she flies overhead, her lightwhip ignites and lashes down towards the sith below in a diagonal cross towards his chest, aiming to have it wrap around his sabers and catch one of his legs.

[member="Lord Ajihad"]

 

[The Angry Cheese]

After the first few initial explosions from the invasion, Tracinya had darted up from his rented bed. quickly assembling his armor pieces, slipping his various weapons and pieces of equipment into their respective slots, sheathes, and holsters, he dashes over to the window. His rangefinder mounted on the side of his helmet comes down over the top left portion of his T-visor, giving him a better view of the streets below.

Amongst the panicking civilians, he makes out the strange-looking lightsaber- A lightwhip, probably -flashing into existence, coming down an what looked to be a Darjetii.

The damned Darjetii had to come and invade THIS planet, too! Not on my watch...

He growls to himself, splitting a thermal detonator into two different charges, placing them on his wall and, after setting the explosion yield to a low enough setting so nobody in any neighboring apartments may be hurt, he blows a whole in the wall. His helmet filters the noise to but a low whump! for him, allowing him to activate his jetpack uninterrupted, flying out of the hole in the wall and take aim at the Sith with his twin pistols, Westar-34's.

He smirks beneath his helmet, muttering to himself in Mando'a as he depresses the triggers, sending several blue blaster bolts speeding down to the two Sith.

And they're fighting each other? Typical Darjetii...


[member="Ruby Rose"] [member="Lord Ajihad"]

 

[Necrobius Amunrex]

It was said, in days now long forgotten, by the Demon King whose name a thousand species dared not speak. That those whom would indulge in deaths bitter pleasures would be granted wondrous power over meek and weary. Oh what miracles could the great God, Seti-Anok weave. Oh what suffering His will beget.

The Givin, Necrobius Amunrex, he'd heard this call from the beyond. This terrible dark whisper from a Prophet rich of tongue and wisdom. But just what was [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] ?

The Augor Skeleton would thusly find out.

From dust and clay he'd watched flesh stretch, writhe and wriggle in to a Church of terrible worship. But still, Amunrex kept to shadows. Mere phantasm far adrift the gathering flock. From inside black jacket, sabacc deck came to be. Let the great veil speak it's secrets. What was this creature.

The King of Sabres, reversed.

Necrobius drew breath sharply, wicked grin stretching over skeletal features. He drew again.

The Ace of Sabres.

Fate, had spoke. Cards vanished from grasp, and coat sealed neatly. Necrobius Amunrex took to stride, he would meet this creature, it was not a matter of choice, but a matter of necessity. He would learn, and he would follow. For it was the Will of the one God. Closer his legs carried, closer. Oh what games would await? By what manner could he be molded? This would mark the first, and greatest prospect since his reawakening.

 

[Lord Ajihad]

The assassin was surprised to see the shield activate the way it did, knocking one of the sabers from his grasp. After inflicting what looked to be a minor flesh wound on [member="Ruby Rose"], Ajihad retracted his claws, and watched as the Jedi tried to hit him with her lightsaber whip. The assassin never wielded one, mostly because of how unreliable they were. One wrong move, and you could find yourself dead just like that.

One thing a smart combatant would always do was to use their opponent's attack against them. Unfortunately for her, Ruby had given the Sith an easy opportunity to do just that. As the whip hurled at him, the assassin gracefully leapt backwards. He then used telekinesis to powerfully send the whip in the same direction at high speeds, right past his body. At that level of momentum, the whip was on a direct course to come around and hit her in the back rather hard. If, however, she tried to pull it back at that speed, she would most likely break or dislocate her arm with the jolt it would cause.

The knight then turned around, hearing some kind of explosion. A Mandalorian stood in the middle of some hole in the wall, unleashing blaster bolts at both him and his opponent. He dove out of the way, narrowly missing the blue lasers. He picked up his fallen saber in the process, igniting it yet again. He then employed an old trick he had come up with a while back. He subtly used Art of the Small to change to composition of the inside of the Mandalorian's blaster, changing it from a metal alloy into a highly volatile substance. This change was miniscule, as it was just a slight atomic alteration, so his opponent would have no idea anything had happened. Next time he fired those blasters, however, they would explode in a rather large fashion. Ajihad wasn't sure how tempered that beskar armor was, but chances were, it wouldn't protect its weared too much from an explosion of that magnitude.

He turned back to the Jedi, preparing for her next move...

[member="Tracinya be Gra'tua"]

 

[The Angry Cheese]

When the blaster in his right hand is fired, the explosion knocks him out of the sky, sending him crashing to the ground. Luckily, he had only a few minor bruises and sprains, whose pain is quickly dispelled for the moment by a pain killer stim to a gap in between his armor plates. Standing back up with a wince, he aims his second blaster, before looking down to it, than the intense scorching of his armor. Whatever the dar'jetii did, it made his blaster explode.

Holstering his second pistol, he draws his beskad, a shortsword made of beskar that allows him to effectively duel any lightsaber-wielding opponent. He dashes forward, using his jetpack to boost him to his target; The male Sith. When he reaches him, he attempts a kov'nynir, a headbutt, aimed at the Sith's head.

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

"Step through the orifice, and with you, shall you bear the Fangs of Balagoth... and surrounding you the Water of Life if you should command it. You will have become as the shade, and every drop of blood your fangs shall spill, will find it self drip within my Cauldron. Collect for me the blood of Mirialans, and from it, I shall grant you the knowledge of power renewed." The Warlord spoke with the ancient warrior ([member="Auzga Xalor"]) with the same reverential respect the Yuuzhan Vong offered him, finding within him a good and pious ally, a rarity in a nation built upon the foundation of faith... now corroded over time under the acidic nature of apathy and individualistic greed. For a long time, Zambrano had been a mindless beast as they had been... an unbeliever who cared only for his personal tastes in pleasure. It was loss that formed him, it had always been the catalyst of his grandeur as well as demise. With every fall, a new life flourishes.

All those who stepped through the same Obsidian Portal that [member="Lord Ajihad"] had, would find a new item within their possession... a Fang of Balagoth. Even if left unused, for every drop of blood let loose from the veins of an innocent Mirialan or enemy, would deposit that same blood directly into the Cathedral of Flesh, where it would drip slowly into the glowing green pot set before the Black Prophet... Bokan of the L'ans. They would also hold the power to call upon the Water of Life, to obscure them into nothing more than a mere phantom on will... using fear and panic as their allies to reap the rewards of slaughter in bleak darkness.

"You, familiar one." A spindly tentacled finger rose over the Cauldron that spilled its viridance into the various obsidian pores that others had leapt and bound through, to point towards [member="Ostanes"]. Those hands had been circling over the black cauldron, which brewed some indistinguishable thing. It held with it the ichor of spirits, the L'ans of Zodou, his own faith. "You look to be a man of knowledge... is this so?" The large reptilian orbs upon the face of the midnight giant glowed faintly green in the light of his own magic, with a curious yellow hue.

A new, curious presence entered the room, and for a moment a palpitation stalled his slow beating heart, held together only by stitches of his own will... another of reverence, another of destiny...

[member="Necrobius Amunrex"]

 

[Ruby Rose]

Rose let out a smirk as she feels the whip getting pulled on by the sith's telekinetic powers. That would work against most opponents, but if there were two things the Jensaaria specialize in it was stealth and telekinetic aspects of the force. As the whip hurls down she counteracts his pull with one of her own use of saber flurry, bringing the whip up and spiraling around her, deflecting the bright blue bolts from herself as a mercenary comes out of seemingly nowhere to interrupt their fight.

Well then, I guess its time I test this out. First time for everything.

As she lands lightly to the ground, some distance away from the two going at one another she takes the small reprieve to deactivate her whip. She then pulls what looks like a staff off of her back and connects it into the base of her shield along her arm, undoing the straps that hold it in place as she does so. Once the haft finally locks into place on Winter's Fury, she holds the heavy weapon over her shoulder and starts walking confidently towards the merc and the sith as they fight. If one of them would come at her she would kick it up and over, using the heavy momentum of the weapon to crush into their defenses and send them back.

[member="Tracinya be Gra'tua"] [member="Lord Ajihad"]

 

[Judas of Vahl]

Chaos.

This primal concept of a state without order, where strife and toil ran rampant and the blood of the weak fueled the strong. Survival of the fittest was how existence maintained its balance. It was ironic really, chaos was how this universe kept itself in line and balanced with the course of unpredictable events unfolding. It was here where Judas thrived, prospered, and found a reason for continued existence. Maintaining this balance was his ultimate goal, to send the galaxy into eternal strife where progress was always an arm's length away.

Dirt clung against his armor, coating his metallic and sinewy frame with a crust of clodded soil. A minute had barely passed since the Yorik-trema spat him out and into the fray, sword's edge gleaming bright crimson with the gains of a freshly slain foe. Little resistance was offered, though Judas had to admire their skill in reacting instantly. An entire platoon of defenders lay in the wake of he and his best warriors, who were busying themselves in finishing off the wounded and pressing outwards.

"Uurath," he snarled, shield hefted up. "You know what to do. Kill everything and anything that doesn't bear the markings of the Yuuzhan Vong. No prisoners, no mercy." Simple orders, really. Uurath and his kind were used to this - and they took pleasure in exterminating the infidels.

The Subaltern gave a curt nod, grunted something to his comrades, and sped off without another word. Judas could trust in their abilities to get the job done. This was their purpose in life, and they would excel in all forms.

A voice cut through his thoughts. He stood there, an emblem of sheer hatred, destruction, and chaos - all bundled up in the shape of a single man. The sword was clutched tightly by gauntleted fingers, the shield concealed his left flank, and his visage was nothing more than a faceless shock trooper.

Before him was a single woman. These people sent a lone combatant to stand in his path, to add a little chaos to his own chaos. The corners of his lips curled into a snarl, "Get out of my way." There was no hesitation in his movements. The tendons and augmented muscle of the armor processed his actions faster than expected as he charged the woman, his shield leading the way.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Matreya]

Damien sensed the slight danger against his pawn, and the gnawing urge to step in. "Zambrano, I will return. You as well...friend." Damien acknowledged the Hutt, then Ostanes as well - whom his skill had managed to reveal as one he had met recently. Retreating back through the hole, Damien watched as a two on one fight ensued - little did the newcomers know Ajihad was potentially one of the most dangerous opponents they would meet. While deadly himself, he had been taught straight from Damien's own mouth of Force Walk. He had at least a singular adequate spirit bound to him to enhance his energies, and an ally in Damien.

This wouldn't go long.

Gathering energy like a balloon being filled with air, he exhaled at the same time as letting an explosive blow seep from his control. In the fashion of a telekinetic grab, Damien snaked his explosive power outward to specifically aim at the two attacking Ajihad, then blow them with the equivalent of a small grenade against their spinal columns.

This was not a simple blow however: it was calculated, designated at specific targets, and enhanced by over a dozen Force sensitive Spirits driven by a Master, who had eaten the Soup of an entire town. Basically it took little to perform, and could easily kill someone if they weren't careful.

As he finally passed back into the light, he nodded at his ally, "I told you the Rune would bring me to you when you need it." It was at this time, if Ajihad looked, he would notice the aforementioned symbol was now glowing.

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"] [member="Ostanes"] [member="Lord Ajihad"] [member="Ruby Rose"] [member="Tracinya be Gra'tua"]

 

[The Angry Cheese]

Even with all of his technological and martial prowess, nothing could have prepared him or the explosive pain that erupted from his spine. With a scream of pain, he is suddenly knocked off course by the assault. But, even with his previously aimed assault knocked away, the moment he was traveling at more than likely knocked his target off his feet, as well as cause deep bruises and possibly a cracked rib or two.

 

[James Justice]

"Religion. Heh. Politics. Heh. Fools errands, I say," James retorted. "Just another way of oppressing someone with permission. Fool's errands, I say."

The spacer lectured no one in particular as the Drunken Angel made a steep decline into atmosphere. On his wing, one of his wild freighter contacts had come to his aid. This was a charity mission, one that James was pay a fething lot of credits to do. For no other reason than he was a karking good man. The furious freighter had used an old smuggler's trick; when the attacking forces jumped he jumped after them, riding in their wake. Before their scanners were up again they had found more hiding spaces. Using every trick he knew, James had made it this far alive. He wasn't about to give up now. Not in fething Correllian hell.

Reed gave the smoking man a rebuke. James eased his grip on his ship's yoke, "Sorry, mate. Just trying to save some civies."

Reed gave him a saucy reply and James pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated, "Aye, aye, your right, decelerate."

The two ships graced along the mountainside. They stayed low and close to the ground, looking on scannars to just be a pair of farm equipment on the move instead of a rescue team. They landed in the outskirts of a small village nestled in a peaceful valley. The spacer rose to his feet and motioned for the droid to stay put,"Keep the motor runnin, this may be a hot get away."

James jogged down the Angel's boarding ramp, DeathHammer in hand, "Ye fething, Mirilians, if ye know what is good for ye, get in these har ships, fast."

He didn't have time for pleasantries, not right now. The charismatic vanieer was gone, replaced with a stressed man on the edge of death. He looked up and saw several dark death-bring ships coming closer. For once, he wasn't even sure if he was going to make it out alive, "Feth."

 

[Lord Ajihad]

Ajihad was surprised to see Damien appear from nowhere, and even more surprised to see his opponents crumble before him just like that. He slightly turned from his opponents for a second, offering [member="Darth Pikiran"] small nod. There were only a handful of people in the galaxy whom Ajihad had respect for, and this man was one of them. "I suppose this thing really does work then. Nice to see it comes in handy, though I do believe I had these novices handled. While we're here, why don't we get a bit of practice in with what you taught me? Just like the old days."

With that, he would turn the young mandalorian, who was screaming in pain from his back most likely being broken. Unfortunately for him, he was still holding his two blaster pistols. With a mere snap of his fingers, the inside of the barrels would ignite. A loud boom was heard across the village, as the two devices exploded in a very large manner. Each individual explosion was about large enough to destroy a house, so the assassin reckoned [member="Tracinya be Gra'tua"] wasn't going to in very good shape after that little occurrence.

The Sith knight then turned to [member="Ruby Rose"], who had attached her staff and shield to make some sort of odd looking hammer. The experienced assassin shook his head. It was almost too easy, really. She was a small girl, and her weapon was rather large. The time it would take her to successfully execute an attack would be delayed by its size and weight, and Ajihad knew just how to take advantage of that little window of opportunity.

Although he was a Sith, the Demon's Fist was actually a master of Vaapad. The seventh form relied on absorbing the emotions from your opponent, and projecting them into an infinite power loop. This loop then made the user marginally faster, depending on how proficient they were at using it. Ajihad did just this, taking in every emotion from his surroundings. His opponent's' willingness to beat him, their pain, their anguish, he used it all. He transformed it into pure energy, and in a flash, he was on Ruby like a wraith. To him, it looked like she was moving in slow motion. Wielding both lightsabers, he moved past her defenses in a blur. One weapon blocked her shield hammer, while the other moved to plunge through her back, and right out the other side.

 

[Matreya]

[member="Tracinya be Gra'tua"]

Damien turned his attentions on the one whom fell to the side, and paused: the man seemed a Mandalorian! Calling out in the speech of the mandoa, he asked, "Will you leave now? Fight needs not occur between us. I am Mandoa myself. Though I have been far from home, I still recognize my roots. I will show you respect and allow you to leave!"

If he did not however, he would find a terrible opponent in Damien as the Master began to siphon energy from the darkside and his Spirits quickly.

 

[Matreya]

(Ignore. Double post.)

 

[The Angry Cheese]

[member="Lord Ajihad"]

( One blaster already exploded, while the other one was tossed away. So, those explosions could not have happened. )

 

[The Angry Cheese]

[member="Darth Pikiran"]

After making several failed attempts to stand back up, he looks over to the dar'jetii with barely contained scorn and disgust.

"If you speak truth, yet you are a dar'jetii now, then you are an aruetii. No better... than a traitor." He slowly rises to his feet after his next attempt at standing, using his sword to support himself. He glances over to the woman.

"Three Sith versus a single Mandalorian... My luck's run out, it seems." He shrugs indifferently to himself, raising his beskad (Its made of the same material as beskar'gam, and thus can block lightsabers) in front of him in a shaky one-handed defensive pose. He cracks his neck, lifting up his left hand to remove his helmet and spit some blood on the ground before glaring defiantly at the man.

"You betrayed Mand'alor, aruetii. Why?"

 

[Matreya]

"It was not I that betrayed the Clans, they betrayed me." Damien replied, still in his native tongue, "The Darkside is my ally, but I fought it for a long time. The vod were the ones to choose this path for me." It was the utter truth, as only Ordo had sided with him, attempting to give him a purpose. But it had been for not, and in the end he was pushed to the point thay leaving was the only choice.

"Last chance. Leave. I do not wish to spill more Mandoa blood." He called, clearly stating that he had indeed faced those he once called family, and had made plenty fall before his might.

[member="Tracinya be Gra'tua"]

 

[The Angry Cheese]

His eyebrows furrow in a frown, his grib on the sword wavering. There was another tingling in the back of his mind. One that was warning him of this man's power. For some reason, he could, for lack of a better word, feel this man's power. And not the usual 'feeling the tension in the air' type of thing, no. It was... as if he had some kind of sixth sense. And this, as usual, confused him greatly.

What is this? Is the aruetii dar'jetii doing something with my mind?

This feeling tended to come up when he or an ally would be close in danger, or after a strangely lifelike dream. And those kind of dreams generally became real through some kind of strange deja vu.

He-He's doing something to me! He's poisoning my mind somehow, the damnable piece of osik!

[member="Darth Pikiran"] [member="Lord Ajihad"] [member="Ruby Rose"]

(( You are all able to sense his confusion at what his Force Sensitivity is. ))