Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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You call that a Sith? (TSA raid of Dominion Vjun)

The Sith were rulers. To the Ascendancy, this was law. It was the right and responsibility of a Sith to rule the galaxy and bring it to true prosperity, constantly evolving to true perfection. All Sith had this right. But the Dominion Sith had settled to be slaves. They worked along Jedi in a government they had no say within. It was wrong, and the Ascendancy would show them the true path.

A commercial grade freighter would descend upon Vjun in the night, heading right for the Sith temple located there. It would land just outside the gates and a lone cloaked figure would step out to greet the guards. They wouldn't get close before their throats clamped down on themselves, and the pair dropped to the ground and eventually chocking to death. Krest would then pull down his hood as he went to the back of the freighter and knocked twice.

Soon enough the door opened behind him, and the sudden glow of red light signified the Ascendancy's arrival.


The elder Zabrak would pull out his own saber and let the red blade light up. "Show them the error of their ways."

[member="Lark"] [member="Blake Morrigan"] [member="Vengeance"] [member="Darth Sarcophago"] [member="Orion Darkstar"] [member="Drios Rapux"] [member="Ariealla Vareldi"]
Vengeance chuckled. The concept of Sith mixing with Jedi amused him. While not something new to him considering a Jedi his equal was not something he tended to do. Sure they had their purpose. Some of them even had value. That value however existed as long as they had something to provide he wanted. These Dominion Sith seemed to have forgotten the difference between a tool and a equal. Today that would be corrected. Today he would remind them of the difference.

He glanced over at [member="Krest"] with a smile.

"And the ones that will not submit? Please tell me eradication is an option."

The Sith Lord made his way down the ramp. Not since he infiltrated the Alliance planet of Lothal had he approached a Temple not his own. He ignited his own saber the blade blue unlike the red of his companions. That however was no indication of his stance on Jedi vs Sith. He found amusement in killing Jedi with the same color blade they themselves carried.

As a back up on his back a Tactical Fighting Blade rested in it's sheath. Vengeance always carried a back up. Not necessarily waiting on an answer he pressed forward towards them temple. He called out.

Vjun was a disgusting world. One that he had even spoke out against when the Dominion decided they wanted it for themselves. The heritage, they claimed, was the reason why it was so deeply desired. The Dominion's Sith Order was one of a weak congregation of darksiders and their Jedi counterparts were just as pathetic. However, this mighty republic had a way of finding some of the most worthy and difficult opponents for Judas to take on, so he remained.

With a scowl plastered across his visage, he exhaled through his nostrils sharply.

The incessant pitter-patter of acid rain never stopped on this worthless rock. It was irritating, distracting. More than he could take some times. The resultant scars bore truth to that claim. Only his little troupe of warriors were capable of bringing him out of his temper tantrums, hushing him with the promises of painful glory before the Yun'o. Then he began his bloody rituals. His forearms were rife with the scarring of hundreds of blood sacrifices. He'd made them daily, as did his Yuuzhan Vong warriors.

They hated it here too. Only the hallowed tidings of the Yun'o made them remain, made them remain here with Judas the betrayer.

However, as the Dark Jedi relaxed in his quarters in the temple, he felt something. An anomaly, closing in fast and bearing intentions of death and destruction. Grinning wickedly, he telekinetically switched off the Holoscreen and rose. Then began the arduous process of bearing his arms and armor.

It'd take minute, so he prayed to the Gods that this party didn't begin without his arrival.

[member="Krest"], [member="Vengeance"]

It’d been a few days of planning to destroy the Sith Temple on Vjun, and tonight was going to be the night he had intended to sneak in and bring to fruition the full scale of destruction he had in mind. Dreams of razed buildings, screaming youth, and bloody blasphemous beings forever broken within the endless rubble that it would be. And yet, when he came to go through his ambitions, he met something that exceeded his wildest dreams.

As the rampant cockiness of the Sith Lord who ran down the ramp declared their intentions and presence, The Slave idled by in his cloaked armor. Watching, waiting, patiently studying the crowd with his entire form made smaller than the molecular structures of the carbon in his makeup through the force, his eyes wandered over the group with the armor he had made for him months earlier.

It fit on him now like a second skin, maneuverable and flexible for fighting in any environment. In this case, macrobinoculars set inside it allowed a perfect view of all those low beneath him as he sat atop the aged architecture. A grin grew on his face as he realized just who it was that sought to attack, and it couldn't have been more of a perfect opportunity. After his near death at the hands of Ignus, he had been meaning to get back at the poor excuse for a oligarchy they were; and today would be a great chance.

Cutting down what they held sacred.

He cocked his head far enough to force a crack to form in his neck, but patience was a virtue when things must be done right. As he waited and watched the group’s malignant energy traverse towards the entrance with lightsabers ablaze in the dark night, he prepared to drop and meet them from the rear.

All that was left was the lamentation.

│ [member="Judas Foster"] │ @Vengeance │ @Krest │
Normally, Cairyn would be snug in bed, fast asleep at this hour. However, tonight was no normal night. How was it any different from the others? He had no idea, but for whatever reason he was more restless than usual. Slipping out of bed, clumsily slipping glasses on his face and grabbing his lightsaber - it'd make for a good light source, he wandered the halls of the temple, eventually winding his way outside.

A sigh overtook the Teevan, him lightly skipping around the grounds. It was a nice night, all things considered. The acid rain was...tolerable, the night dreadfully boring. Humming a little tune, he climbed up onto one of the temple's ruined structures, making a little perch for himself to observe the night sky. Wait, was that? No, no, it wasn't possible. He settled back into his little perch, remaining still for maybe twenty seconds before curiosity overcame him. He had to investigate.

Did Grace bring friends? More importantly, would he get to play with them?

[member="Judas Foster"] | [member="Vengeance"] | [member="Krest"] | [member="Lark"] | [member="Blake Morrigan"] | [member="Darth Sarcophago"] | [member="Orion Darkstar"] | [member="Drios Rapux"] | [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] | [member="The Slave"]

Rick Kaloo

Rakkus silently exited the frigate, his blade drawn like so much of his brothers in the Ascendancy. He walked at a normal pace, approaching the temple. Sith and Jedi coexisting was a strange thing, and he did not get a bit of it. It seemed like he would have to cut through some of them to get the answer.

The collective light of the red blades was almost like a lamp, clearly illuminating the surrounding area. It was so clearly bright, that he could see some surrounding rocks to get a vantage point on. From there, he could examine the temple's layout and figure out where defenders may come from.

Rakkus leaped from the edge of the Sith army to the rock, about ten feet away. The rock itself was about three feet high, but enough to see more clearly than within the army. He scanned his surroundings, finding no direct opposition. Yet. The temple's entrance was nearby, and it would be a quick entry. He turned off his blade and jumped off the rock, vanishing into the darkness. A few seconds later, Rakkus was back in the Sith army, his blade ignited once again. There would be death and chaos tonight, and no one would be spared.

[member="Krest"], [member="Vengeance"], [member="Judas Foster"], [member="The Slave"]
"Sir we have an unidentified commercial freighter breaking from traffic lanes and heading straight for the temple."

Rainer looked up from his holo-terminal and at the Dominion officer speaking to him. "How fast is it approaching?" He did not know why he asked the question, he knew this tactic all to well. "Nevermind. It will land just outsides the gates, if it does not come crashing through them. Get everyone ready." Sith Assassins, Rainer who once helped found the Sith Assassin while he was still a Sith by the name Darth Kentarch. Rainer was all familiar with the trick as he had pulled it off a few times himself.

Rainer slipped on his Sith Assassin Gauntlet, a relic to the time he was still among their ranks. Making his way to the gates, he found The Sith Ascendancy forces had already landed. A cloaked figure with a lowered hood, a Zabrak, was the first to come off the ramp of the ship. Rainer recognized him to be The Red Assasssin, @Krest. Once Rainer was The Pale Assassin, he always wondered between the two of them who was better. Today he would find out.

"RED ASSASSIN!" Rainer shouted pointing his saber at him from atop the gates. "Tonight's the night you sleep in hell!"
"Move the rest of the supplies into the storerooms, and hurry I don't really want to make this place my vacation home." Adron ordered, watching as his soldiers off loaded supply crates filled with rations, equipment, and other various supplies into the main hold. He rounded his shuttle, pulling his cowl over his head as he peered into the night that surrounded their compound. Like fire piercing darkness Adron watched as the blades of lightsabers came to life in the void that all but swallowed them.

Cutting his eyes at the sight, it did not take a genius to realize what was happening. They were under attack. Adron turned back to his shuttle, moving to cut off one of the Legionnaire's that was struggling with a crate filled with medical supplies. "Hurry up!" He barked, turning away from the group and making his way towards the front gate.

Taking his own weapon into his hand he allowed his thumb to roll over the activation pad, watching as the white blade sprang from it's hold. Adron approached the gate just in time to hear the bellowing of [member="Rainer Altman"] from atop the main gate. "Idiot, he's going to get himself killed." The young Count seethed before exhaling softly and dipping himself into The Force, clearing his mind for the battle to come.

Standing several yards from the main gate Adron prepared himself for the worst that was sure to come.

@Rakkus @Cairyn Midore [member="The Slave"] [member="Judas Foster"] @Vengeance @Krest
Bjorn followed in tow as the Ascendancy strode from the freighter, drawing their sabres as they approached the target. Bjorn usually relied on his large, two-handed broadsword, a gift from his father as a child to aid him in combat. However without any alterations, it would be useless against a Sith's sabre, and as such, his master [member="Krest"] had given him a sabre for this particular mission until further notice.

Bjorn drew the blade from his belt and activated it alongside his brethren, basking in the hue of red that lit up the night sky, indulging in the light humming that emitted from the weapons as they powered forward. Bjorn joined the others as a Sith from the Dominion appeared above them, taunting his master with empty threats of pain and death.

Their time would all come to an end soon, Bjorn cared little for how it would come about.
The Sith were not pawns of the Jedi, or any other faction for that matter. The Sith were the penultimate manifestation of the Dark Side, their power unrivalled by any other mortal being in the vast galaxy Rapux called home. It was unnatural for a Sith and a Jedi to ally, a betrayal of the Dark Side which would be punished by death this very night.

Every traitorous Sith and Jedi in this temple would be slain, regardless of their age or gender, Drios deemed them all enemies of the Ascendancy and so would be a victim to one of the great warriors within this transport. He would ensure it.

Not a sound escaped Drios' lips as the blades of his brothers and sisters ignited one by one, bathing the transport in a crimson hue, illuminating his face. His eyes glowed a ghastly shade of yellow, burning almost as fiercely as his plasma blade. His whole body was shrouded in a black cloak, giving him the appearance of a sentient shadow.

Drios stepped out of the transport a few moments after the raiders revealed themselves, his corrupted eyes searching for a suitable foe. "Show them the error of their ways" spoke the Zabrak, Krest.

He intended to do just that.


тнє ναмριяє ℓσя∂
​Sitting in the back of the freighter, soaking up the dark side energy flooding the ship, I opened my mind to fall deeper into the meditation trance I put myself in. The Sith, the true Sith, were coming to Vjun to teach a harsh lesson to those imposters who thought it wise to align with Jedi. The mere thought of the two ancient rivals working together turned my stomach sour. No right minded Sith should take orders from a Jedi, nor feel equal to those Lightsiders; Sith were equal to none. Yet, the imposters who walked among the Dominion had committed the greatest atrocity of all; tarnishing what it meant to be Sith. Either these faux Sith would bend their broken knees before us, begging for redemption; or find themselves crucified, quite literally, for their heretical beliefs.

​I felt the momentum of the freight begin it's slow descent, until it finally came to a complete stop. Outside, I felt the deaths immediately through the Force; prompting me to open my eyes and rise to my full height. I tossed off my black, silk hooded robe leaving me in my armored outfit; calling the hilt attached to my sash to my hand. Emerging from the transport freighter, I kneeled next to the dead methodically removing their eyes; popping them into my mouth for a quick snack. To add more insult to the dead, I carved into their cheeks, using my flesh-peeling dagger, the ancient symbol of the Sith; letting those souls that recently merged into the afterlife know they had died by a true Sith Lord.

"Can you feel that brothers and sisters," I said joining them. ​"Anxiety and fear have already struck the first blow against our enemies. Shall we begin our conversion of these puppets or excommunicate them from the galaxy piece by piece?"

[member="Drios Rapux"] l [member="Bjorn Heartholm"] l [member="Rakkus"] l [member="Vengeance"] l [member="Krest"]

Bjorg The Traitor

It's been awhile since I had my last combat mission. Recovering from my wounds was hard, difficult and painful, but it matters not. I am here with a duty to do and that is kill, as it usually is. Many of the Sith here were fighting these "Sith" for reasons such as "heresy", or corrupting the Sith code, or some excuse such as that. I was far more honest with my self, we was killing these "Sith" because we want to strike fear and destroy, does it really matter whom we fight and what they stand for, and eventually die for? Of course it doesn't, some Sith just need excuses to do the things they do, we soldiers have our orders as our excuse, a very good one at that. When in doubt, remember you are following your orders, and with that excuse we can kill millions, cause suffering and terror towards entire systems. Besides, it's not our fault, we are merely pawns in a greater game we will never understand nor try too.

Enough of that thought, don't forget the mission at hand. This time I will actually be destroying a temple, we will. As our drop pods crash though the sky like meteorites, hitting the ground with such a thud, the doors open we march out. If I was no encased in my armour the acid rain would have melted my flesh to the bone, yet it did not, just a pitter-patter against our smooth black armour, and so we ran, the mud squished against our feat, we were going to storm that temple. But unlike our Sith masters, we will be far more "indirect", we are to scale the walls, break down those windows and flood like a disease, wiping out any resistance, if there was any left the time we got there.

"Lord [member="Krest"], we are here."
There were many, but none were really Sith. No, as Krest walked forward and felt the shifts in the Force he found few who could match the signature. Were they in the wrong place? No, his spies weren't wrong. [member="Bjorg The Traitor "] came over the coms to pull his attention away. So the drops pods did make it? Good. "Keep it tight, keep it clean. We'll hold their attention." Speaking of attention. Red eyes glanced to [member="Rainer Altman"] , the man atop the gate. Few these days knew of him as the Red Assassin, and hearing the title was a bit surprising.

Sleep in hell though? Someone would, though who was still yet to be seen. Rather casually the Zabrak brought up his hand and ripped down the gate Altman was using as a pedestal. Words weren't enough here. If the ex Pale was going to send the Red to hell, he would have to fight. So come, traitor. Lets see what you've been up to all these years.
So violent. If the group that accompanied her were making a statement, then this was the right way to go about it. If they saught after actually destroying whatever had drawn them to this place, well, they probably weren't going to be completing that objective very soon. Still, it mused Serenity that they were attacking this particular group.

Although this time, she didn't have hulking steel beasts to hide behind, no grunts or pawns that could be moved like chess pieces to form a battlefield. No. The only thing that stood between her and her foes was the common goal of a bunch of sadists, and the red plasma that ignited from the cold steel of a newly crafted lightsaber.

Oh well. She wasn't here for blood. Moreso to implant a hacking chip for information on the Dominion which would be used at a later date. If someone wanted to get in her way, they were more than welcome, but it wasn't going to end well for them. Standing back for a few seconds and leaning against the door opening, awaiting a a moment that could be used to make her entrance in a more discrete manner.

[member="Krest"] I [member="Bjorg The Traitor "]I [member="Darth Sarcophago"] I [member="Drios Rapux"] I [member="Bjorn Heartholm"] I [member="Adron Malvern"] I [member="Rainer Altman"] I [member="Rakkus"] I [member="Cairyn Midore"] I [member="Judas Foster"] I [member="The Slave"] I @Vengeance
Current Foe: [member="Adron Malvern"]
The rattle of the freighter meant they were close, closer than they knew. The ship tilted upward and before the dominion sith were aware. The Ascendancy had arrived. The freighter's hatch unlatched itself as it swung violently to the ground. What emerged were a crowd of true sith, not tainted by the inner workings of a flawed system. For a moment a crescendo of darkness sprang to life as a crimson blade sparked to life. It was his very own master that made it official, they were here to kill.​
Then, like dominoes more red sabers ignited from the ship. The force enveloped them as they charged forward. The war cry's that spat from their ranks could terrify any opposing army. They were invigorated, a somber flame sparked to life by the passion in their hearts. A passion to maintain strength for those that bear the title Sith. Orion stood silently as he watched the fearless group of comrades charge the temple. The anticipation almost killed him as a smile grew from under his chrome mask.​
He felt it, like he always had. The force wrapping around him, waiting to be harnessed for victory. He too, was enlivened by the actions of his master [member="Krest"]. It was odd to think that a simple lightsaber ignition, fueled his confidence, but it did. Orion quietly stood in awe as he soaked in the sight of the raid unfolding before him. It all happened so quick, he had yet to ignite his own saber. He stepped down onto the lifeless ground of Vjun, rain sinking into his black robe. His hood protected him from the acidic display and marched onward.​
The temple walls were lined with exceptional designs, before the hurtling roar of an empty threat seized his ears. Orion had taken an oath into the Ascendancy, those that tried to bear the name of sith and obeyed the Jedi, were a disease that needed to be eradicated. The Dominon Sith were fakes, treacherous rats that no longer would receive their daily scraps. They were worse than the planet of Vjun, no soul and no room for growth. Orion felt strongly about it all, he had too. Devoting his life to the cause didn't mean following the way of the dark side. It meant believing in it to. Which Orion most definitely did.​
He walked, like a calm threat in the night. A sudden crash forced the main gate wide, a rush of two armies colliding like a star destroyer crashing into a battle cruiser. Like a white lotus in the night, a beam of white greeted him a few hundred feet away. Orion paused for a moment, a sinister thought teasing him.​
Orion, the Renegade Sith Slayer...
He thought, finally igniting the cerise saber tightly held in his hand.​
[member="Rainer Altman"] | [member="Drios Rapux"] | [member="Krest"] | [member="Bjorg The Traitor"] | [member="Darth Sarcophago"] | [member="Serenity Loveheart"] | [member='Bjorn Heartholm"] | [member="Cairyn Midore"] | [member="Rakkus"] | [member="Vengeance"] | [member="Judas Foster"] | [member="The Slave"] |​
So many rushing to fight, it both amused and disappointed her greatly. Sith, while prone to such conflicts, were a far grander sight when working together as one. Hell, even in war the Jedi could make fitting partners, such as during the Revan crisis. However, this was not the case. These sith were complacent, the worst thing a sith could ever be.

So a lesson would be taught, and taught well. To that end, the purple clad woman was seated at the edge of the drops hip, sipping quietly from a cup of tea as the others rushed to fight. On her lap rested her sith sword, and on her hip hung her lightsaber staff. She had come to fight, but more importantly she had come to prove loyalty to the Ascendancy, and be granted knight status all the quicker.

She hummed, until she could hear footsteps not too far. She sipped her tea, before standing and holding her sword gently. "They have grown complacent, arrogant, weak. Shall we begin?"

[member="Blake Morrigan"]
There was always that ideological and metaphysical musing before battle. A question of both why you fought for something and why you fought something. For Judas, that was a question he'd answered long, long ago. Neither these allied Sith from the Dominion nor the black-cowled figures marching towards his temple were opponents worth fighting. Judas craved something far more powerful than these mere creatures of flesh and bone to crush, something much more.

Even God himself.

Not his glorious Yun'o, but the fabled Lords of the Force.

The shrieking of his warriors grew in volume and ferocity as their warlord came down the steps of the temple. They raised their amphistaffs, chanting cries for their lords with promises of blood and victory. Many of them began their very own rituals, hardening the edges of their weapons before dragging them across exposed flesh for a mighty display of pitch black blood dripping upon the duracrete. Their warlord was deeply humbled by their displays of affection and faith to their gods, but this was not their fight in the slightest. It was for he and those who dared to call him an ally.

"Alegar!" The man roared, nearly instantly summoning his most trusted Subaltern. "Keep watch over the temple. This is my fight. I don't need any help."

Rather than meekly replying as he usually did, the warrior straightened his back. "Is this not our fight as well, Warlord? What of our sacrifices to the Yun'o? What of our devotion? How are we to reach the precipice of holiness without battle?"

Judas took a step closer, clamping a gauntleted hand upon his shoulder kyrric. "There is a time and place for that, Subaltern. This is mine. Yours is coming. I promise."

That seemed to satiate the warrior enough to drop the subject and turn to relay the orders set before him.

As for Judas the betrayer, he stormed down the steps with a vengeance for [member="Vengeance"]. Hot blood pumped through his veins, frenzied by a flooding of various stimulating chemicals and adrenaline gifted to him by the very plate armor he wore. The magnus was tightly grasped, its fanged teeth lapping at the blood seeping from his palm. The Force swirled about him as if he were the very eye of a bearing storm.

[member="Orion Darkstar"], [member="Serenity Loveheart"], [member="Krest"], @Bjorg The Traitor, [member="Darth Sarcophago"], [member="Drios Rapux"], [member="Bjorn Heartholm"], [member="Adron Malvern"], [member="Rainer Altman"], [member="Rakkus"], [member="Cairyn Midore"], [member="The Slave"], [member="Krest"]
With legs idly swinging over the edge of the balcony, causing an absolute scintilla of distortion in the air as they moved, The Slave watched with withheld excitement as the various members of this Sith Ascendancy walked out of the freighter and into the temple. Each was made tall by their overconfidence, each stood on the precipice of reckless suicide through the faintest of corners on their lips and the brashness in their blood. They knew not what they stood against, yet they held the strongest sensation of clout.

For not would the bell toll for the unwieldy. The Slave hummed in quiet appreciation for the way the world would serve them their needed due, and glanced through the crowd at each of his could-be opponents. To take on a master and kill morale quickly, or enjoy the smaller of the pickings? To cripple or kill? Decisions, decisions. This was a buffet of man, with the choice of this or that and endless opportunity to be had.

There was of course [member="Krest"] and [member="Vengeance"], each a master in their own right, but both served with years of brutal decadence. They considered themselves men of war, but when was the last they truly saw the death they so desperately clung to for power? The idle drippings of a singular neck, or the casual cumberance of a mass grave? No, they knew not what it meant to swim in the abyss; only dabbled in the idea like children whose feet are wet a the edge of the pool.

Or perhaps this [member="Rakkus"], whose movements were drenched with insecurity. He moved with inexperience, and yet he found power in the crowd that came down. Perhaps it was presumptuous, but he didn’t look like he’d last long in a fight; little more than fodder to the feed in this case. He made up nothing more than a pittance of what they had brought. No true opponent to try and face down.

But of course, he couldn’t count out the rest of this audacious collection; from [member="Bjorn Heartholm"] who strolled with strength in step but not in heart, or [member="Drios Rapux"] who carried just an arrogance that he assumed only his way the truest, without even the smallest idea of how to enforce such a thing without the guidance of his superiors. The Slave couldn’t help but consider just where many of these people would be if not for the dogmatic corruption of their elders, forever setting a cycle of decay that ate at the very soul of who they sought to be.

A shame in truth.

Ah, but how could he prattle so blindly when the likes of [member="Darth Sarcophago"] sought to intimidate her own kind with rudimentary cannibalism? Did she truly think such grotesque displays of dominance were going to intimidate the other side of the very coin she sat upon? A fool's errand, but one that came back to something deeper than simple scare tactics, but absolute cretinous mentality. Entertaining if nothing else.

Yet, even then, those like [member="Orion Darkstar"] or [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] held an aura about them that reeked of displaced annoyance. They came to fight perhaps, but neither walked as the others, nor did they cry out with such arrogance as many had. Each was respectful in step, but blind in purpose; following leaders who held to no higher esteem than the dirt under their boots. Though, that was to be assumed considering how the Sith often operated.

But the last to be seen, and perhaps the most interesting, was [member="Serenity Loveheart"]. Everything from her hesitated departure to her less than volatile nature was something he could appreciate from the distance he was at; and yet she seemed to be as deadly as all the rest. She carried herself differently, whether that be in purpose or demeanor alone he could not tell, but it inspired a curiosity in him he’d have to decide just what to do with in time. Perhaps offer her a chance at his blade, or ignore her entirely.

A calm hand moved to grasp Ishtar as she stood sheathed in her leather cage. It was a sword that knew blood like a child knew air, a virgin to the sun as much as she was the dark; and something that gave out a cacophony of song that gave only a glimpse into its need for blood. She was unmatched in alchemic blades, and when her banshee like cry would pierce the air so too would the Sith who approached with anger in their hearts know fear in their minds. There was no peace to be had, no sin not to be forgiven, for she came like a horseman bound for war; with flames at her hooves and destruction in her wake.

Muscles tensed with equal ambition, all waiting for the moment he’d finally decide on who exactly was to be the first to face him in combat. With his presence in the force all but negated, his armor ceasing all visual spectrum mention; he was a ghost in the night like those who who could only dream. There was not a way he could be seen, even the stars above him ignored his form and passed through to the ground below; forever to not understand the transcendent form that he was. Shrouded in their sorrow watch, he soon found his target. A ripe one for the picking, and so he prepared.

Feet held themselves to the wall as a hand held the ledge; angling him for a drop that’d hit the earth with such a force that not even Gabriel’s Trumpet could sign a better acknowledgment of absolute rending. He was apocalypse in wait, armageddon in slumber, and those below would learn the name he lacked, and with it;

Utter respect.

To the victor go the spoils, and to the sanctimonious the choking they so deserved.
Vengeance said:

The jury remained out on that.

While the Dominion and Silver Jedi were not especially close, some pragmatic Jedi like Arisa saw the benefit in the two organizations working together as their interests aligned - realpolitik. Then it was just good practice to keep an open line with one's neighbors, especially one that provided a nice buffer against the Sith hordes of Bastion.

As reports of the latest attack upon Vjun began to disseminate throughout Dominion space, Arisa would eventually catch wind of developments from their sometimes allies as she was conducting patrols along the western frontiers of Silver Space. Details remained fuzzy on the exact identity of the attackers, though there had been eyewitness accounts of a whole gaggle of red saber jockeys bursting out of a transport at the gates of Bast Castle.

Perhaps more Sith on Sith violence? This wouldn't be the first time of such an event occurring, as she had been witness to it herself while on a mission on Malachor. All part of some greater struggle to consolidate power within one camp.

Whoever it was, the Sentinel would lend her aid to see that the curious project of the Dominion continue.

Aboard the Vánagandr, Arisa began assembling strike teams of Jedi and Ysanna riflemen, with some war droids included for extra fire support. Altogether a small force of about company strength, just right for some direct action on Vjun, with more units on standby in case things got hairy. As Jedi and Rangers filed into stealthy Eidolon transports, she would issue an encrypted transmission to the Dominion giving them notice of the Silvers coming arrival. As they were almost within a
microjump from the edge of Silver Space to Vjun, it would be very soon. Hopefully, the inhabitants of Bast Castle would be able to hold until then.

[member="Krest"] [member="Judas Foster"] [member="Darth Abyss"] [member="Kaden"] [member="Vitha Sat-thuron"] [member="Karl J. Winters"] [member="Samara Galloway"]
The wounds of Kaas were still fresh.

Scars - physical and mental - weighed the pureblood down.

Still, the call of battle enticed him. It whispered in his ear, pulling on his subconscious, ushering him to sign up for a month's tour on the Silver Jedi's western territories. A hotzone of galactic conflict.

In these regions, the glory of war was not an if - it was a when.

Turned out the 'when' was today.

Klaxons blared as Kaden filed into a Eidolon transport. Fellow Jedi and elite Rangers occupied the seats around him. There were even hulking durasteel droids brandishing menacing weaponry. He garnered a few strange looks from those who didn't know him - wondering why their imminent enemy, a Sith, was sitting among them.

It was simple.

The pureblood relished conflict. If he could somehow play his part in maintaining galactic peace and the survival of his new friends in the process, then that was an added bonus.

[member="Arisa Yune"]​

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