Invasion Warlords of the Sith vs Th Sith Empire | Invasion of Malachor V |

[Vector Monk]

// open the door
// get on the floor
// everybody walk the dinosaur
​

"Fire is a powerful symbol in many Sith rituals. I believe it represents the unchained spirit."

"Yes, master."

"Or is it the purity of destruction?"

"You're the expert, master."

"Ancient Sith hierogylphs!" Captain Monk gasped when his brush finally removed enough layers of dust and sediment, "My word, this looks like early Second Dynasty."

"What does it say, master?" Ygor expressed a rare moment of curiosity born primarily out of fear.

"Oh I dare not read it aloud. That's how you get incepted," Vector's mustache twitched as he scrutinized the old symbols, "Let's see. Something something sealed for all time something a thousand curses upon your bloodline something something abandon hope...looks like pretty standard stuff really. Wait...aha! Now this part's interesting. Death is only the beginning...what do you suppose that means?"

"I think it means we shouldn't open it."

"Don't be absurd! We're definitely opening it."

"Thou hast disturbed and defiled our holiest of grounds, Imperial swine!"

"Incredible," his awed reaction was probably the opposite of what Kascalion Giedfield normally expected, "Consider yourself fortunate to witness such a blessed sight before you die, Ygor."

"If you insist, master."

"Name thyself and thy purpose within this temple and I will grant thee a chance to depart. Do this and thou mayst yet live."

"I am but a humble servant of the true faith, my lord. My name is nothing but thou mayst call me Monk. Truth enough thou speak for the Empire funds my work. Yet my purpose here I suspect is more aligned with thee. Understanding of the higher mysteries...ancient knowledge, lord."

He glanced down with a disinterested expression as Darth Vinaze began to slaughter his research team. Reclamation work was a high risk job. They all knew what they were signing up for more or less. Vector arced his brow at the turncloak Sith.

"My life is in thy hands of course," he lied, "Allow me to stay, dark one, and I will be thy guide. Allow me to live, and I will spread tales of thy power. Power beyond reckoning."

 

[Drako]

Location: Temple of Malachor
Gear in Bio
Tag: Lady Marrow

---

Drako's arms were out to his sides as two attendants secured the ornate armor on the Sith Knight, a rich red cloak was fastened at the edges of his breastplate and a winged helmet was slipped over his head. He turned away from the attendants as he walked to the side of his resting Uvak, a mighty creature which was already clad in its heavily armored barding. The small hexagonal plates attached to the armorweave reflected the ambient light of the hangar dimly. As Drako hoisted himself into the saddle he put out his right hand, from there a long powerlance was put into his grasp. The slender pole arm was adorned with a long pennant banner bearing the sigil of the Warlords. Giving a slight tug on the reigns the Uvak rose to its clawed feet, and began to walk towards the edge of the empty hangar until it dove down into the orange below.

There was battle below, it was an invasion afterall, and one that Drako had prepared himself for diligently. As the knight and his steed descended through the sky they broke through the clouds to the full sight of war, with the infamous Temple of Malachor looming over it all. There seemed, from his vantage, to be defenders at the walls of the Temple manning E-Web emplacements. To aid the ground forces in their surge he would need to eliminate these cannons. Drako guided his Uvak into a swooping arc around the battlefield until he was at a more advantageous line of attack, at which point the Uvak approached from the side and above. Drako's right fist which was clenched around the powerlance pushed towards the emplacement and the strange creature Lady Marrow that was stationed by it, blue Force Lightning erupted from his gauntlet plated knuckles and cracked towards the group as he raced past them.

 

[Darth Maleva]

「 never get free, lambs to the slaughter 」
TEMPLE OF MALACHOR
Alina Tremiru | Kalt Bruq | Quintus Varro​

Maleva breathed deeply, the ash stinging her lungs. The pain awakened her. Golden orbs swept across the desolate field, admiration striking her face. There was a beauty to be found in the destruction. The weak had fallen, and their demise only made those who still lived that much stronger. Soon would the Empire face the same fate. They had sought to oppose the Warlords on Ninn, and taught the lesson of underestimating their enemy. Yet there was no peace.

The anzat had moved from Ninn to Malachor, passion and hatred overpowering any signs of battle fatigue. The Empire was taught, but the Warlords would see to it they learned. There was no place for weakness in the Dark, and those who were stronger took from those who were not. For as long as Malachor had been ignored, it did not waiver in what it had to offer. The planet was a conduit, and Maleva took full advantage of it, drawing on the ancient power. Every sense felt heightened, every ounce of the force buzzing with untapped potential. Another breath, and Maleva began to walk, guided by an unseen instinct towards the temple. Soot rose behind her stride as the cloak dragged behind it.

A cold shiver ran through her spine as she approached the holy structure- a feeling all too familiar. Turning halfway, a ship was landing in the distance. The warlord hesitated, but only momentarily. Her original planned was shoved aside as the force called to her. She turned her walk towards the shuttle, eager to greet those who had crossed her path.​

 

[Alina Tremiru]

OBJECTIVE 1: Survive
Location: The Temple of Malachor
Called Targets: Darth Maleva | Quintus Varro
Allies In Vicinity: Sith Empire | Kalt Bruq ​

It wouldn't take long for her ship to land. But even then, she could feel the death all around. Not the echoes of the past, but the men and women dying as the Sith once again fought amongst themselves. It angered her to no end. These Sith Warlords who demanded obedience but hid behind the Empire and used it as a shield from the combined assaults of the Galactic Alliance and the New Imperial Order. It was an anger clear in her eyes before she slipped on the mask to hide her face.

"You will likely die, as so many other acolytes have before you." Her modulated voice came out of the mask as she turned her gaze to Kalt once again. Better to be honest and truthful than try to tell him he'd be fine. Asides, he didn't seem as nervous or scared as so many other Acolytes would of been in his situation. The door opened slowly, revealing the ash covered world of Malachor for them both. The temple ahead, shattered and broken, was brimming with the dark.

"Prove me wrong." Then she took off in a quick jog. Their goal was easier than most others. Find a Warlord, and kill them. Rinse and repeat until reinforcements could arrive. But already she could feel it. The strong and powerful. They were outnumbered. Worse, out classed by the Sith around them.

"Can you create duplicates of yourself? Or me?"

 

[Ihsan]

LOST_SOUL
WARLORDS
Location: Trayus
Tags: Lesaj Aurelion Nova Zinn Zinn Bink'sa

​

​

Two figures blocked Ihsan's path in the narrow approach ahead, a diminutive Sith and some cybernetic walking garden thing. She might've commented on the odd pairing blocking their path, but she was not bereft of the irony in a statement like that when considering the fact that she stood shoulder to shoulder next to a Gungan. The younger one reminded her of times long lost when she was a padawan ignorant of the wider world. Memories surfaced, and for once, she let them, but it was all hazy. She remembered words, blurry images, and a collection of events that didn't make any sense when all mashed together. But there was an underlining emotion to all of them that was as foreign to the Mirialan as compassion. However, it was no use searching for her emotional repertoire, for she had long since discarded it in favour of control. That was the extent of her power now, but that made her wonder. Maybe it would've been better if she had never run away from her family, her order, her home. But these were all moments lost in time like tears in the rain, and her reality was both her punishment and penance. A lost soul destined to walk a lonesome road until she found her answers and solace.


No more weakness; she had promised the darkness around her long ago and abandoned the old self. She could feel the very same pain from the hybrid Sith that she had known herself once so intimately. Abandonment seemed to be a unifying trauma in the Sith brotherhood, her own family had given her up in the face of poverty, and though it was a well-intentioned act in intent, she often mused and spent many a moonlit night at the Jedi temple wondering what might've been. Even years after being lost to the silver order, she still mused, if she went back to Mirial, would they be waiting for her? or were they consigned to a pitiful death like many of her species in recent years. Maybe it was a small mercy that they were dead or ignorant to the fate of their child.


"Your fight is not with us; in the name of my interests and yours, I would suggest you two leave." The Mirialan woman moved a gloved hand to her belt and grabbed the grip of her lightsaber, the crystal within the lightsaber squirmed by her touch, and she couldn't help but throw a look of contempt for the other woman present. If she was smart, she'd move out of Ihsan's way. Ihsan was more fond of using her words to get what she wanted, but if they didn't want to listen to the Mirialans words, then so be it. She was long past the point of care or empathy; it was forsaken in the fires that robbed her of half her face. She pictured the woman her thoughts were directed at in her mind. A flimsy Mirialan who shuddered at the thought of violence. A weak girl who couldn’t see the lie she lived in every day. The Jedi padawan who shouted warnings no one listened to– and was shouting warnings in Ihsans mind right now.​

 

[Darth Kentarch]

Location: Fields of Ash
Allies: Warlords of the Sith
Enemies: TSE, Laertia Io
Equipment: Lightsaber | Nightfall | Duskfall


Kentarch tried to take cover behind some blackened petrified statues, but his errant mind had allowed an enemy to spot him. He exhaled in frustration then glanced in the direction of the voice that called to him. It was playful, welcoming as if the individual was almost entertained by the notion of the fight. A woman, her outfit was a tad bit outrageous for the likes of Kentarch. She was a stark contrast to him in more ways than one. Loud, and inviting compared to Kentarch who was often silent and reserved. Kentarch was dressed in matte black sith robes and cloak, his opponent was dressed in some ridiculous black armor set. It took all of his training to not blurt out a scathing comment in response to her very appearance.

Taking another deep breath as he slowly took another step forward towards this 'Darth Xiphos' he spoke.
"There is no luck, only skillful execution. You have two choices. Fight and die. Or if you'd rather live you can walk away." Kentarch's voice was deep and ominous. He took another slow step forward, weaving between debris and the petrified ones between him and Xiphos.

Xiphos seemed unwilling to engage him quickly and directly. Kentarch took advantage of the time to scan her with the force. Immediately there was something different about her, her alignment was not 'dark' in the same way of most Imperial Sith. Her mentality seemed off along with force aura. There was more, he wanted to peer into her mind but he doubted he had the strength to get past her mental defenses. Again he took another slow step forward. "A cyborg. Pity, your kind is never truly able to master the force to it full extent. You do not look or act like a member of the Sith Empire. Tell me your name. It would be a tragedy if I did not know your name before I killed you." Kentarch spoke again.

Kentarch lowered his guard so the tip of his sword Duskfall so the tip pointed to the ground. The Sith Lord continued his slow pace towards Xiphos, his steps were so light they made no sound nor did they leave footprints in the ash. Again he took another deep breath followed by a long exhale, his brow tensed in concentration. Finally he was just a pace or two away from Xiphos. "Ready to die?"

 

[Lady Marrow]

Tag: Drako // Darth Voyance // Arctus Silmar
Gear: The Marrow Blade
Objective: 1

• Location B: The Temple of Malachor!

Missiles from above would carine into the side of the temple as its roaring guns would return fire on the fighters that entered the atmosphere as screaming comets, blasted down into billowing fireballs that would detonate with a few more of the heavy rounds tearing into their broken and torn apart carapace. Shrapnel from the fallout as well as what remaining payload they had slamming into the earth devouring swaths of the defenders and attacks alike. Lady marrows' form would duck one of the pieces which launched up, hammering into her side lopping off a couple of her spines with the force as it buried into the side of the stone wall behind her, damaging one of the ammo caches of the E-Web turret that was directly beside her, causing it to bleed blastergas.

The sensation of death was palpable, but, this was far more than the conflict that she had experienced on in her last skirmish, the power here was palpable, she wasn't sure if she should run or hide, cowering under the force of yet another nearby missile slamming into the side of the temple and tearing at its defenses. The wind whipped at her spores, though no sooner than they had the smoke was torn up by the wind, whipped in every direction as a weight came slamming down on the E-Web group, lightning tearing at nearby emplacements as a lance brimming with lightning would tear through one of the nearby E-Webs penetrating through it and sparking the leak. There was a roar as the caught leak caused the battery to detonate with its remaining charge, killing its operators outright as the explosion tore the E-Web apart from the inside. The force hurling Lady marrow upwards violently, her scales blistering and painful with the force of the blow as the rag-doll and crumple against the cold hard stone.

The explosion however carried with it the taste of the inerals she had been generating for the last ten minutes, thousands of spores intermingled with the smoke pluming up and for the drakes wings and likely even its rider on that side. Should the plume wash over the dragon and its rider the hidden clouds of spores which would appear as little more than dust would happily grip onto the sleekest of metals with thier moist coatings, especially gripping to exposed skin, fabric or the in betweens of armour as they flew on by... Lady Marrow however, looked indisposed.

Slouched as the winged beast flew on by, she couldn't help but think of her former ally that had been in that combat, this one however wore armour. She curled into a fetal position pain coursing over her body as the scales began to regenerate. Humanoid legs contorting into reality from the reptoid body while the frill became long flowing hair. The stubby front arms became hands until finally the creatures scaly coat became a semi armoured bio organic dress as her face finally returned to normal. Thankfully, heat based wounds recovered quickly... but it would take hours, and she was certain that one of her arms was inoperable.

It was only at that point that she felt the familiar presence of the Shaper, his thoughts penetrated her mind bidding her onward... she could feel the presence of the crown, like a garden of her own, pooling into her senses and body as she would stand, her too long tails whipping at the air behind her as she would finally make it to her feet, cradling her badly burned arm in the hopes that that creature would return for another strike. "Y-yes... Sir... I'll try..." She would climb higher, landing onto a stepp of the pyramid which would act more like a balcony and drawing her blade, a sickening radioactive looking lightsaber which seemed to pulse with the dark side of the force.

Should the attack come, she would ready her blade, wait for the strike to look as though it was coming down, and then, reach out for the invisible spores on his person, as well as his mount, and make them all grow. As thick membranous stickly root would begin to tear from them... far worse if they were inhaled by the massive creature or entered its nostrils or eyes as they would happily penetrate organs as they expanded several meters per second. seeking to coil around its wings, his arms and weapon as well as cause him to potentially panic. Until finally, stepping to a side she would take a single swing with her saber at the pike, hoping to take its head clean off with a weapon that, while it had much the cutting power of a lightsaber, bore no familiar properties of heat nor plasma. Rather like a blade of raw darkside power hoping to tear the weapon asunder.
​

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud
The Red Witch, The Night Queen, Lady Stuztala, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium, Archon of the Primyn Group​

Location: The Fields of Ash, Malachor V
Objective I.: Stop the ritual!
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | Kiss of the Red Witch | Heilagr MK. I ssassin Armour | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Writing with: Ashin Cardé Varanin | Kal

[ Just Inside My Head ] ​

Ingrid continued the spell as she concentrated, so she couldn’t see the result, as of course she did it all under conditions to give as few targets as possible to any sniper. It was for this reason that she could not see that Ashin had finished concentrating and reached for her weapon. At the moment of the shot, she felt the danger through the Force, but she had no opportunity to dodge or avoid it.

The fact that she has been in the profession for more than twenty years and is always instinctively seeking cover, and here intentionally, has probably saved her life; if the protection of the armor might have proved insufficient. Huge lightning zigzagged across the battlefield, the sky roaring loudly. The bullet slammed into the rock near Ingrid at that moment and exploded.

That alone pushed the woman away, shrapnel into the armor. They were not enough to cause injury; she had taken care of this since the first siege of the Bastion; but these caused minor cuts in the armor, thanks to which the filter system was no longer perfect and the dust got under the armor, so Ingrid also inhaled it.

The mere push away was enough to break her own spell, but the storm did not stop. It began to feed on the energies on the battlefield and continue to grow; uncontrollably. The pain hit the red-haired woman because of the dust. However, she wasn’t really affected, as she wasn’t human and was part of Netherworld as well. And she could handle the emotions of others much better than her own, which she just suppressed. Always just suppressed…

Saw what had happened here in the past; for a few moments she saw the old instead of the current battle. Like a Force Vision. The pain… the pain, however, was nothing. At least for her.

The red-haired woman lived with much stronger and more excruciating pain every single minute. The loss of Adrian was a much greater pain for the woman than what those who died here experienced and suffered here ages ago. Last but not least, Ingrid had a high pain threshold; the woman was an agent, she was trained against mental and physical torture. That’s why she could bear Adrian’s absence… that’s why she suffered and that’s why she was still alive.

~ If you think you can stop the Dark Saint with this pain and confusion, you are very wrong. This pain is nothing… Are you really just that capable? ~ her words may have been offensive and mocking, but her voice was still emotionless.

The pain was there and most importantly, it wasn’t her own, meaning she could use it, just like everything else she channelled into Force Storm. The Empress did the same with the current ones, trying to bring it back under her control… unsuccessfully.

However, she achieved something because of the raging storm, the rain started to pour around the battlefield…


OOC: Adrian (Kal) said, I can skip him.

 

[Zinn Zinn Bink'sa]

​

Location: Trayus Academy
Equipment: Lightsaber
Allies: Ihsan
Enemies: Aurelion Nova Lesaj

The Gungan was bursting with energy as he slowly entered inside only to find himself in front of his latest challenge yet. Two Sith, one a boy that seemed to be like Zinn Zinn. It seemed relatable that neither of the two wanted to be here. Malachor was a place full of dread, and ghosts that seemed to haunt everyone who had stepped forth. Who could blame either one of them. But as Sith, it was unavoidable. They would fight for control of Malachor's secrets. Secrets that would go to which they both viewed respectively as what True Sith was. Even if either group saw one or the other as nothing more than heretics. Even if there was an underlying hatred you had to respect the balls on each side for the two of them being here. The other being some type of weird plant lady. It was something on which Zinn Zinn couldn't really comprehend, but she reminded him of the thick swamps of Naboo and reminded him of home.

"HEY! Wesa gots here first!! Why don't yousa make like droids and get the kark out of here before Mesa make some icky gooey paste out of yousa!!" He said following the lead of the companion that was with him. She was probably regretting how at the very moment. She seemed to get caught in this mess with a Gungan of all creatures. However, she seemed to not mind his antics at least for the moment. It kinda made Zinn Zinn all weird not to get a rise out of her. Maybe he would have to try harder on that on the ride back home. For now they were blocked from going anywhere, even as he sensed the dark call of what secrets an eerie place could hold. It didn't matter now, what mattered was that he would have to fight his way to get whatever the secrets would be. A holocron, a tome, anything that would be useful.

His blade raised towards the boy. Looking at him, his mouth opened the long wide tongue stretched out. To give a comical yet monstrous look to his new foe. He started to raise his voice as if irritated. "YOUSA! YES YOUSA THERE! YOUSA IS ALL MINES!! YOUSA AIN"T GOING NOWHERES MESA GONNA PLAY WITH YOU BIG TIMES... YOUSA IN BIG DOO DOO DIS TIME!!" He said as in a move of intimidation, started to move into a Gungan war dance. Although it seemed as if he was a dancing fool. Chanting out in what seemed like gibberish to them. "WAGHHHHH WOAHHHH!!!!" He chanted wiggling an overstretched tongue out at them in this hysterical dance of sorts. Ready for anything, and for this Insane Gungan that was enough for now. Waiting to see how they would gage the reaction. If they insulted him, he would honestly lunge right for him in a blind rage. Ready to strike and to kill his enemy for the sheer disrespect.

 

[Aurelion Nova]

Aurelion's Lightsaber || Aurelion's Sith Armor


Aurelion's blood turned to ice as the two figures noticed him, though the uncaring visage of his armor would at least keep the shock on his face hidden from being imminently obvious. Both at the odd contrast of cool, even determination coming from the Mirialan in stark contrast to the boisterous nature of the creature that stood with her. Though as Aurelion noticed the approach of the equally bizarre Sith who seemed to be aligned with himself he vaguely supposed they did not seem much better than their adversaries in that respect. Like the Gungan's antics Aurelion felt out of place here, on Malachor, amongst so much darkness and death that it had singlehandedly caused the fall of countless Jedi. Feeling it's umbral energies now? Even after centuries of time to abate? He could understand why.

In no short amount of time did the Gungan begin to issue his threats, but Aurelion's attention was drawn instead to the bubbling thoughts suffusing Ihsan. An obvious twinge of curiosity and remorse coursing through him as he could vaguely feel the suppressed extension of familiarity from the woman. The Dark Side tendrils spread out from around him writhing more violently and hissing like evaporating water as Aurelion winced, feeling something much like his emotions attempting to be... strangled. Swallowing thickly he struggled to push this feeling aside before responding to Ihsan. "You don't have to be here either. Please..... Leave." Focusing as he was on mentally reaching out to Ihsan, Aurelion was not able to stop the Dark Side from subconsciously guiding his hand to his own Lightsaber and punctuating his sentence with the sharp snap-hiss of it's amethyst blade springing to life.

It was at this time the Gungan stepped forward to challenge and..... dance? Fortunately for the Gungan Aurelion was easily intimidated and, giving a remorseful glance at Ihsan hidden behind a mask, quite literally, placed upon him. Aurelion swallowed thickly, hesitantly raising his blade to answer Zinn's challenge. Only to nearly startle as a noise from the academy depths answered the Gungan's loud war-cry. An odd sound, like a blend between a hiss and a howl, echoing eternally in the darkness, and this sound truly sent a chill down Aurelion's spine. It was, even to his unknowing ears, unnatural. As, from the darkness, a pack of a dozen Tuk'ata rushed out to answer the noise the battling Force Users had made. At least.... one of them had.

Turning himself with his back to Lesaj, Aurelion trained his blade between himself, Zinn and the approaching Tuk'ata. The Gungan and Ihsan on his left, with the Tuk'ata now primarily in front of him, a collapsed tunnel delving into the academy to his right and Lesaj behind him. The canine Sithspawn snarling and snapping toward both duos of trespassers, even now fulfilling their ancient role as caretakers and protectors of these ancient Sith ruins. The tendrils of Dark Side energy began to curl around Aurelion protectively and Aurelion chanced glancing bac at Lesaj and asking her in a low tone "What should.... we do?"

Feeling For: Ihsan

Distrubed By: Zinn Zinn Bink'sa

Working With: Lesaj

 

[Arctus Silmar]

The Shaper

The Iron Crown|| Whilstone of Prowess|| Whilstone of Acuity || Whilstone of Power||
Acharn|| Urfael|| Mithralian || Empyrean Gland
Voice Sample

As The Shaper knelt there, at the pinnacle of Malachor, he drank deeply of the darkness that suffused the very essence of that ancient world. The Whilstones flaring to life like a trio of white-hot stars upon his brow, echoing their own somber tune through the Dark Side itself, echoing in resonance with their Master. With every breathe he drew more upon the power of this place, with every breathe he steeled himself for the battle to come, and with every breathe he felt her approach. A presence, bristling with the Force, with power, and The Shaper could not help but a feeling of regret that one so steeped in the embrace of the darkness would be fooled so eloquently against her brothers and sisters. But as all Sith who held their power, and thus their future, in their hands she had chosen her path. Perhaps, however, as the blue-skinned woman approached him, she had not done so willingly?

The Eldritch Lord could sense the disquiet within Voyance's mind, the turmoil radiating outward and blunting what he could see to otherwise be her impeccably honed skill. As she approached him The Shaper stood, Urael still radiating power from his grasp, while the spear Acharn twirled and whistled ominously as it was held telekinetically aloft. Her response was cautious and, by her words, respectful even. The Shaper nodded ever so slightly, before his gaze fell past her to the pursuing knights. The Dark Side hissing from his form to them, a brief communication happening in Voyance's presence, before the knights cautiously removed themselves from their presence at the pinnacle of Malachor. Calmly turning his gaze back to Voyance The Shaper gave the smallest turn of the corner of his mouth, a shadow of a smile here on the battlefield, before he answered her.

"I am Arctus Silmar though I have always, and likely shall always, be known as The Shaper." The Shaper made no move against Voyance, yet, and instead, swept his gaze out across the battlefield of ash and choking death that spread out from around them. Darkness devouring itself, as it always had, to it's own downfall. The tension draining for a brief moment from The Shaper's shoulders as he walked toward Voyance coming, perhaps, closer than most other beings in the galaxy would and still be comfortable to her. His gaze still not upon her for a long moment, before he turned his gaze to her, silver eyes looking impassively into her own glowing red eyes. "Tell me, Lady Voyance....." The smallest of pauses, and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly at her smaller form. "..... whom pulls the strings of a being such as yourself?" His gaze piercing into her, dug into her with the ancient, probing certainty of a truly ancient being casting aside the façade of still being wholly 'mortal' again.

In the span of a moment in which she decided to speak, The Shaper would level a slash with Urfael directly toward her neck, swiping across his body in a fierce arc. Though, strangely, the blow was now as powerful or swift as it could have been. An obvious sight to one as powerful as Voyance would be that The Shaper did not channel the Dark Side fully into the blow. It seemed, perhaps, more a punctuation to his statement. A physical metaphor to the verbal blow he had levied at her. His eyes never leaving her own as he gazed into, and tested, her soul. Bearing down on her as he then would attempt to levy a moderate psychic blow to her focus, murmuring to her through the Force. "Does it do you proud, to see the Darkness devour itself? To commit to the same folly as countless others before you?"


Testing: Darth Voyance

 

[Lesaj]

K N O W L E D G E​

OBJECTIVE: II, Treasures of Trayus.
ARMOR: Battle Robes.
ARMAMENT: The Thorn Bearers (not currently conjured], Duskblades.
TAGS: Aurelion Nova ~ Ihsan ~ Zinn Zinn Bink'sa

Her steps stopped as soon as she felt them, a trio of young souls kissed by the shadows of the Darkside. For a moment Lesaj considered retreating, finding another dark corridor to tread until she could reach what she was searching for. What was there to gain from wasting her energies and turning her power against misguided Sith? Yet, on the other hand, time was not on her side. And they were standing in her way.

Her decision solidified in her mind when her emerald gaze fell on the three. One was a small thing, and Lesaj could feel an uncertainty tolling off of him. Apprehension. Lesaj would not let her guard down, but what she could perceive from the boy so far could only warrant one conclusion: he did not belong in a battlefield. Then were the other two. A tall gungan, with all the fastidious quirks his race was well known for an a maniacal glint in his eyes and a Daughter of Mirial. As the Sylphe stepped forth into the light, her emerald gaze would remain locked into the other woman's eyes.

Her helmet not yet summoned and with only two duskblades resting at the sides of her waist, she seemed way too scarcely armored for the occasion. Her Force presence was muddied by the taozin skin that made into the making of her robes, and masked by Malachor's own darkness she was not surprised that the three would confuse her for a Sith. A small smirk curved her lips and a knowing gaze was directed at them. Lesaj was not one to underestimate her enemies, yet a an ancient soul like hers would always find more room for patience.

"We are in agreement about one thing then, but I do not believe you truly harbor the hope of seeing your request accepted, young one. This does not mean war is the only other option left for us." A voice that was beautiful and yet terribly haunting echoed with other voices that did not belong to her, but to her sisters who were lost in the void. Clear, but yet low - not allowing it to disturb the ancient halls of trayus more than was needed. Lesaj had no intention of leaving the academy until she had acquired what she came here to take, and they did not either. Their drive was one of the very few things the witch shared with the Sith.

The witch was about to speak again, also one inclined to diplomacy before taking the lives of those gifted unnecessarily. Lesaj had no love to lose for the Sith, but they still held a blessing that very few in this universe did. Only on counted occasions had the witch taken pleasure in snuffing out the life of something strongly tied to the living Force. However, she would not have enough time. Not before the gungan derailed the tense meeting with his wild and noisy display. The smile was swiftly erased from her lips, replaced by a frown as she directed her attention away from the Mirialan and onto the gungan.

"Silence, you fool!" The witch hissed, but her warning arrived too late. The guardians of this dark place had been summoned, and now they were left with no choice but to face them. Her angry, emerald eyes reached the armored sith when she heard his low voice calling to her. What should they do? Who had let this sithling walk into the entrails of a place that was preparing to become a tomb? The duskblades were swiftly retreated from their sheaths, allowing the Force to begin gathering around her while she kept an eye on the two hostile Siths and the incoming hounds. A part of her was ready to leave, to let them be prey to the creatures of their ancestors, but for now she would not.

They were too young to perish without purpose, and perhaps a mind could be changed today. For now, Lesaj would remain both guardian and enemy. "Now you fight, boy." The pack of Sith hounds was upon them, and being the intelligent creatures they were they seemed to part in half to target each pair. One of them pounced towards the witch, and Lesaj ducked beneath it allowing the enchanted edge of the Duskblade to slide against it's belly before kicking it away, wounded and back into the shadows. These creatures were not easily killed - neither was the Witch of Gargolyn.
​

 

[Quintus Varro]

Objective: Witness a war of Sith... and fail into being part of it
Location: The Temple of Malachor
Partner: Darth Maleva
Focus: Alina Tremiru Kalt Bruq

The blinking light from inside the cockpit went ignored for too long as the Firrerreon remained focused on the darkness gathering all about him. Had he seen it there might have even been a chance to talk his way out of the issue, but he was in the middle of a war and unresponsive without realization he'd left the Empire no other choice. He was lucky he finally heard the warning siren of missile lock as soon as he did, a moment later and his tale would have been over there in a crater of a dead planet. Even as he rushed into the pilot's seat he knew he was in more trouble then he could get out of. His own efforts in piloting were still too new, and he was in minimally armed ship. Even as he pulled on the chains to push the oncoming missile into the rocky wall he knew he wouldn't get to do that twice, and even as he pulled up on the stick the warning went off again.

He thought about aiming straight for the stars and put all his efforts into a get away but as the lights of battle light up above him he felt caged in, and that was something that made his skin crawl. Instead he straightened out, but it was all too late as the ship shuddered violently in an explosion and every warning light it seemed came on at the exact same time. Failing engines, failing, well failing everything is what it came down to. Even as he veered wildly off course the nose of his ship was heading down, and with only a moment to react he reached up and pulled a lever ejecting from the ship. Looking down to see the damage it only took a moment to see the ship he'd just been piloting explode in a flash of laser fire from a pursuing fighter. Well, so much for a well thought out plan it seemed. Now he was technically a legal enemy of the Empire inside of a warzone who'd just been shot out of the air. It wasn't exactly what he would call the most successful of plans.

The capsule auto piloted to the nearest flat area from where the ship exploded as Quintus felt about blindly sure there was something he could have done to find a better spot, and yet completely unaware of it. This whole thing had turned into a damn fool's idea and perhaps the moment curiosity did indeed kill the cat. Closing his eyes he embraced the force as the capsule hit the ground and rolled pieces shattering off against the hard ground before it came to a stop. Cursing to himself he pulled at the chains of the force before pulling himself out of the debris shaken and bruised.

Blinking away the rising ash from his eyes he looked up to see a great temple and knew he was in the worst place possible. Pulling his lightsaber pike out of the ruined capsule he looked around as the dust fell down. Well so much for just watching.

 

[Khamul Kryze]

Engaging: Ulrich

Flamethrower​

Khamul could feel the lightsaber dig through scale an flesh as his strike found its target. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite enough. The beast was able to move away before Khamul could inflict any serious damage. As the creature replanted itself into a new stance, Khamul could feel the Force surging around him. Rock and obsidian began rising from the ground around them, hovering in the air in a form of stasis. Shortly after, they began flying toward him, almost as if attracted to him. He had to react, and fast.

Taking a moment to focus, he felt the movement of each rock. He aimed his wrist outward, launching a group of whistling birds. He managed to destroy most of the rocks before they made contact, but a few managed to find their way to his shoulder. It wasn't long after that the fire was upon him.

Khamul managed to roll out of the way, avoiding the bulk of the flame, but the torrent of fire was too large to avoid all together. As fire melted rock, Khamul could feel the lava penetrating his beskar pauldron. He quickly disconnected it from his suit, allowing the pauldron to drop to the ground.

"Damn you to the Nether, dragon. You think you have free will? Tell me then, should you choose to cease your servitude to that charlatan Prazutis, what would his reaction be? It would be your soul facing judgement."

He called out to the Force, reaching out with all of his rage and hatred. Lifting two large boulders from the ground, he launched them at his foe with great ferocity. He wasn't expecting them to do much, but they served as a distraction.

"I will destroy you as easily as I would crush a bug. I will kill everyone who stands in my way, even your precious emperor!"

As the boulders flew at the dragon, Khamul launched himself in the air with his jetpack, shooting his own fire from the flamethrower on his wrist, attempting to inhibit the line of sight of his enemy. If things worked in his favor, he would find himself above his opponent, shutting off his jetpack and falling to the back of his enemy, lightsaber descending in a plunging motion. If he could damage the beast's wings, then the fight might turn in his favor.

 

[Darth Bellum]

Victory through Annihilation
[ Theme ]
​

| Location | Malachor V​

| Purpose | Enlightenment​

​

How the mighty have fallen - such a simple saying that somehow managed to encompass the entirety of the Sith Empire's failures and its downward spiral into conflict and chaos since his departure from their ranks. Were he not an entity and the incarnation of war, he might have felt the slightest bit of sorrow to mourn the pathetic husk that was the empire he once helped raise. Yet here they were, on the losing end of a war against those that defied them, unable and incapable of landing or returning blows as they fell to the onslaught of the New Imperial Order, while the numerous divisions of the Sith began to sprout up from the ashes, holding the Sith Empire in contempt for their failures and weaknesses, the Warlords and Sith Eternal already having risen up as those that would defy the Sith Empire's rule and control over them. The chains had been broken and now the wolves were loose. With the scent of fresh blood in the air, it was only a matter of time before the once-mighty empire fell to infighting and destruction. Such was the fate of the Sith.​

​

And so it was that the former head of military for the Sith Empire and the New Imperial Order found himself, his ghostly visage floating above the planet, observing it from space and observing all through the Force, as if it were a small snowglobe in his grasp that magnified points and individuals of interest to him. Death had brought a certain clarity to him, solidifying his place in this Galaxy as an avatar of war, where death and destruction only fueled and empowered him. In a place such as Malachor V, where the anguish and hatred of those slain here still lingered even after centuries had passed since the great cataclysm that slaughtered all. Bellum relished in its energy and atmosphere, invigorating his spirit as he began to passively absorb the essence of those that lingered in its ether to himself.​

​

He would show the Sith what it meant to be truly enlightened. In his galaxy, only the mighty had the authority to dictate what was right, and the Sith Empire had long forsaken the freedom and nature of Sith in the hopes of clinging to what they once were. Their false sense of duty and loyalty to an Empire that would sooner cast them out or execute them if they acted out of line were nothing but chains that hindered them and prevented them from becoming something greater and more powerful. That's all the Sith Empire ever was - chains meant to be broken.​

​

 

[Kal]

Objective I, Location A: Breath of Ash in the Fields of Ash; Mystical Consultant.
Writing With: Ashin Cardé Varanin | Ingrid L'lerim

As tended to be the case when the Sith were involved, matters quickly escalated - and as far as Kal was concerned, Ingrid struck first. Sure she did not try to harm either of them directly, per se, but there was nothing peaceful about interrupting a ritual through brute force.

That was not to say he had any interest in involving himself directly in their showdown, however - quite the contrary.

<How unfortunate. I will attempt to becalm the storm to prevent it from interfering, assuming you can handle her.>

Not waiting for an answer, Kal drifted a short distance from the former Empress then turned his gaze upwards, staring at the nascent rainfall as if the sheer weight of his disapproval would convince it to find more fertile soil. Alas, this was not the Netherworld and so desire did little to affect the local weather patterns. Far removed from his forte, he studied the phenomena, seeking the artificial impetus that had kicked it into motion...

... and there we go. Now all he had to do was find a way to dismantle what she had done through precise manipulations. Far from an easy task, as he was not known for his mastery of the weather nor for his raw strength. This was turning out a lot differently than he had planned for.​

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

The mere push away was enough to break her own spell, but the storm did not stop. It began to feed on the energies on the battlefield and continue to grow; uncontrollably....

~ If you think you can stop the Dark Saint with this pain and confusion, you are very wrong. This pain is nothing… Are you really just that capable? ~ her words may have been offensive and mocking, but her voice was still emotionless.

...However, she achieved something because of the raging storm, the rain started to pour around the battlefield…

<How unfortunate. I will attempt to becalm the storm to prevent it from interfering, assuming you can handle her.>

Not waiting for an answer, Kal drifted a short distance from the former Empress then turned his gaze upwards, staring at the nascent rainfall as if the sheer weight of his disapproval would convince it to find more fertile soil. Alas, this was not the Netherworld and so desire did little to affect the local weather patterns. Far removed from his forte, he studied the phenomena, seeking the artificial impetus that had kicked it into motion...

... and there we go. Now all he had to do was find a way to dismantle what she had done through precise manipulations. Far from an easy task, as he was not known for his mastery of the weather nor for his raw strength. This was turning out a lot differently than he had planned for.

OBJECTIVE 1
LOCATION A: THE FIELDS OF ASH
REPRESENTING: Warlords of the Sith
OTHERS: Ingrid L'lerim , Kal
GEAR: Kotsirluuk, DNK0 spotter droid, anticoncussion shoulder pad, basic light armor, Breshig War Forge SR-2M rifle with a variety of ammunition, and a lot of ash
GOAL: Conduct the rediscovered Breath of Ashes ritual on Malachor after eight or nine centuries forgotten

"Thanks anyway, Kal," Ashin said aloud, as rain stripped the ash from the air and pounded it into gray mud. "Neither one of us is a weatherworker, I think, not enough to stop the rain or dry the mud. This storm's not going anywhere."

Ash-mud streaked her hair, soaked into her light armor, obscured her rifle's optics despite her best efforts. Even the DNK0 looked miserable, hovering there as a chunky metal oblong with ash in its servos. Her play might or might not have introduced Ingrid to the ritual, but it certainly hadn't interrupted the storm. If anything the storm was rising.

Failure gnawed at her heart. She'd failed before - so many times - and found the wisdom in retreat over unnecessary escalation, in learning to lose no matter how much it stuck in her craw.

The rain killed the ash but left visibility as bad as ever. Conscious that she'd sent a bullet at Ingrid and that Ingrid's rifle was the genuine article, she moved to cover behind a broken column of black stone. The DNK0 kept whispering ur-Kittat in her ear as it tracked all manner of targets. She was sorely tempted to start taking potshots at Darth Prazutis on general principle, but that would expose her to return fire from Ingrid.

"Could use some advice, though," she said to Kal, resting her clammy hair against the cold stone. "Nobody's going to be breathing ash anytime soon. The ritual caught hold on some, but I don't have a prayer of extending it to Darth Voyance at the temple. Not unless I run it there myself. You sold me this body and it's a sprinter, not a distance runner. Does it have the endurance to make it to the temple without taking up too much of my focus?"

She didn't mention the reasons she'd need focus: surviving that run across slippery, open ground, with an unfriendly sniper on overwatch and an expanding battlefield nearby. As she spoke, she took off her slim pack and stuffed lower layers of still-dry ash into it from a nearby drift. The pack was waterproof. Get that pack to the temple, under shelter if it offered any, and there was a chance.

Not a great chance. Certainly worse odds than she'd projected for being able to pull off the ritual in the first place, and that had just gone so well. But while she didn't have much in the way of hope, this whole engagement had left her deeply and irrevocably pissed at both Voyance and Ingrid in a thoroughly nonpartisan sense. That kind of targeted anger was as good as juicing a reactor with raw coaxium, parsecs better than the generalized, directionless bad mood that fuelled most Sith Lords.

Whatever Kal advised...she was probably going to make the run. And - if the stars aligned - give Voyance a ritual slap upside the head.

​

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud
The Red Witch, The Night Queen, Lady Stuztala, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium, Archon of the Primyn Group​

Location: The Fields of Ash, Malachor V
Objective I.: Stop the ritual!
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | Kiss of the Red Witch | Heilagr MK. I ssassin Armour | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Writing with: Ashin Cardé Varanin | Kal

[ Just Inside My Head ] ​

Ingrid used and consumed more energy than usual. She felt exactly that when she pushed everything into Force Storm, she was performing beyond her own strength. The Empress was far from the battlefield to be able to steal enough life-force to continue this. The storm was already quite uncontrollable, and the red-haired woman also felt that she would no longer have enough strength to calm it down.

Though the storm was already raging over the battlefield alone; and the woman leaned against the wall, the rock, gasping for a little air, then pulled down so that they could not see her for sure. For now, she had to control her own breathing. She didn't see or sense what Kal was trying to do, it would have been hard enough. And now for a while she didn't even see / knew what Ashin was doing. She just knew one thing.

That the other two people no longer answered her.

It took about half a minute for her breathing to return to normal, after which she was able to pay attention to the battlefield again. She could no longer find the woman where she had been before. Ashin was a little farther away and was just running toward the temple. The red-haired woman felt the Dark Saint that she really wanted to get there. She couldn't believe her opponent wanted to stop her, but rather help her, Ingrid thought this.

~ Why should I believe that you want to stop your own leader? Or control her?~ she also asked Ashin and Kal.

She calculated the speed of movement and the direction of travel, where she could shoot the woman... she means so that the shot would not hit her, but the projectile would hit the ground just before her so that it could not hit Ashin yet. As soon as it was… she hoped this would stop the former empress and also get an answer from her or her companion.

The Empress pulled the trigger...

 

[Laertia Io]

"Ugh, another one of the grim types..." Darth Xiphos scoffed as Darth Kentarch gave his grim soliloquy on the nature of battle.

"I can't even start to count how many of your type I've killed. Many of them scoffed at me being a cyborg also. Right before my grip caved their skull in..." The Light Side Marauder went into a loose, two bladed Form Two stance as she moved through the fields of ash towards him. He asked her name.

"The name's Io. Laertia Io." Xiphos answered.

(Clip of Bond Theme Plays)

When he was very close, asking if she was ready to die, Xiphos only smirked.

"I was born ready, Motherfether." She sneered (Trinity: 90 XP).

She lunged at him, her opening Makashi, but her tactics a blend of Makashi and Djem So, Neither blade could be shut off with Cortosis exposure.

The inverted green blade, The SynthBreaker, moved swifter and more fluidly than most Lightsabers, striking and thrusting for his wrists, while if that failed, he would have to immediately contend with The Sword of Cinndurr crashing down for his skull, aimed at cutting him in half with her extreme strength, its blade extended past its normal length by half. But the gyroscopic properties of such a weapon made it a third slower to swing. If it connected however, it could do serious damage, there was even a chance the wound area could ignite if he wasn't fast enough to dodge it...

 

[Kalt Bruq]

"I've been in a battle before, I know the risks but I am happy to prove you wrong all the same." He said in response to Alina's challenge, following in step with his teacher. His role in the subjugation of Ord Thoeden came to mind first. Although from what he understood it didn't last long.

He answered the question regarding whether he could make duplicates or not almost immediately. "As distractions, yes. They're not very useful otherwise and I can only do so many within a certain distance. Alternatively I can make some other kind of illusion but I can only affect so many minds at once."

He noticed the figure approaching them in the distance. Apparently a so-called "warlord" or at least that's what he assumed given her hostile intent. "I believe we have drawn some attention."

He drew his lightsaber, the black blade with red glow allowing him to differentiate himself from the sea of normal red sabers. It had some benefit in acting as a sort of distraction, or for drawing attention to him while he did something else. Which gave him an idea. "What if we try this?"

He created a projection of Alina, sending it forward to meet their coming foe. While the projection blocked Alina from their sight, he used Force Concealment to reduce Alina's presence in the force... or the weird lack of it in her case, bringing it closer to the background sense as most would feel in this environment. In a normal situation this would be fairly difficult for him but given the chaos around them, it was a bit easier. In this sense it would be harder to see the real attack coming if Alina pressed forward on their opponent.

[ Alina Tremiru , Darth Maleva, Quintus Varro ]