A massive cataclysm has struck the universe, and destroyed most everything in its wake. The survivors are now trying to pick up the pieces, and figure out exactly what has befallen them. Gather together, lightsiders!! The darkness has shattered the peace and calm of the galaxy...and they will do anything to stop anyone from finding out exactly what has been done! This is our first sitewide RP plotline. Lightsiders, you are looking for the source of this massive event. Clues must be found, lackeys tracked down, and bits of memory discovered. Darksiders, you guys don't want that to happen....because of the one behind the whole thing is furthering his ultimate goal. Mandalorians, and non-force users, you guys can decide where you stand on this line....do you side with the Jedi, and try to discover the reasons behind the ruined universe, or will you side with the darkness, and protect those secrets. Will the secret of the cataclysmic reaping be kept under wraps? Or will the Jedi and their allies find out the truth? Your RP and writing will decide the outcome!
BATTLE ARENA
Welcome to The Saga Continues. We have a section called the Battle Arena. Here you can use your characters to fight other characters. Hone your skills and see what you are made of. Don't worry, anything that happens here, does not effect your characters in posts, so if your character dies, you can still use them over and over. Have fun and check it out!
The Saga Continues is the product of the mind of ADMIN ADI; all contents are copyright their original owners. All characters belong to their original creators, and may not be used or replicated without permission. All images are copyright their original owners. This skin Operation Mindcrime was made by pharaoh leap of Pixel Perfect and put together by ADMIN KRYSTAL
There it was, this foreboding aura of death. Unwavering in its foul intent and it only seemed to be growing, the power of the dark side, of bogan, surging forth and rippling through the currents of time and space itself. This was death incarnate and the Jedi Master couldn't help but flex his grip on the large hilt held in his right hand. Something of great malevolence was coming and he and Kirwin were all that stood between it and the helpless sick and wounded.
In all honesty, Geir had never felt this level of Dark Side power that seemed to radiate as driven out of a spring of force energy and that made him feel uneasy. Such a terrible force. Such power and it was untamed, yet controlled at the same time. This was a new level from which he'd never thought to give any credence to until this point. Nothing of this level had been felt before now and that gave the Jedi Master great concern which he held back behind a calm, yet expressionless face. An impending doom was coming for them all and they were going to have to stave it off - at least until the weak and defenseless were taken away to safety. Only at that point could they consider other options.
Geir gave the elongated hilt a flourish in hand, neither of the opposing emitter projecting a blade. Along his left hip hung two lightsaber hilts of a smaller size, though his brown cloak hid them from view. He stayed vigilant as he awaited the ever approaching evil while helping with the movement of the sick and injured where he could. "Stay vigilant, Kirwin. There is a moment coming where we must stand in defense of the weak against great tyranny and evil. I would not have us caught off guard."
The absence of mist exiting his mouth when he took a breath surprised Kirwin with how cold it had suddenly gotten. The rapid decrease of temperature chilled him to the bone. He didn’t know why or where it had come from but he didn’t like it. The feeling was worse than when he had meditated outside the hanger before the Darksiders had shown up earlier. His cloak didn’t even help to ward of the chill he felt. He turned to help another sickly patient when Geir told him to ‘stay vigilant’, against what? Something was coming but he couldn’t see it.
Once a faculty member took the patient from him Kirwin turned to look down the hallway they had come from, his rifle, his pack and his ship were that way, the easiest way to get off this rock and run from all this destruction. He could surely find a job as a bounty hunter or a gun for hire, earn some easy credit and forget about his old life as a Jedi knight. But no, he had given Geir his word of aid. He couldn’t go back on it. The disappointed look of his old master's face flashed across his vision, “You had such potential Kirwin Hass, but now, now you will amount to nothing. I am disappointed in you.”
"But I, I tried master." Kirwin mumbled, blinked his good eye, his master’s face was gone and an elderly patient hobbled toward him. He quickly reached out and stabilized the woman. He was troubled by what he had seen, and why the temperature had dropped so low. He kept glancing back and forth every so often between the hallway ahead of him and behind him. One was danger and the other was freedom, he had to choose before it was too late. The turmoil within the young adult would only have been apparent by his glancing back and forth between entrances, but only if observed. Kirwin continued helping the staff vacate room after room until an entire wing had been completed. He didn’t know where they were taking the patients, he just knew that the staff would rush through the automatic double doors and lead the patients back through the doors they came from.
Kirwin took a quick pause to blow on his hands and try to warm them. As he did, he noticed that the cold neither affected the patients nor Geir, almost as if he was the only one affected by it. He stopped blowing on his hands and placed his right hand on his blaster handle and his left under his armpit. Kirwin put all his weight in his right leg and took an observative stance as he watched a couple staff members push a sickly child on a hover-bed. For some reason he felt nothing for the plight of the child, no sadness for its predicament, no pain of empathy, no fear for the child’s demise, just emptiness. As a once Jedi Knight, and being trained in the light he should have felt sorrow at least for the child, but something wasn’t right. Like someone or something was keeping him from the Light Side of the Force away from him and leaving him in a Void of nothing.
Dash turned a corner and saw Geir and Kirwin, though he did not know their names as of yet working with patients, his saber was ignited, and he was pulsing with the pureness of Lightside, walking slowly. His Golden saber humming. "You will not stand alone brothers." He said loudly as he continued his walk down the hall. They too seemed on edge, perhaps they had felt the Darkness coming ever closer, creeping, crawling into their midst, a different type than those in the hanger. Dash stopped and turned his head, looking towards the hanger. "Hmm.." A rending in the force, and with a wink one of the darksiders was gone, extinguished like a fire in a monsoon. "One of the darksiders, is dead." He said looking at the other two. Suddenly Dashes head snapped up, looking towards the Sky. "More death, more darkness coming." He muttered to himself, he seemed to be mad, talking to himself and yet speaking to them. He looked back down and strode a few paces in front of Kriwin and Geir, looking down the hallway. "Here, here is where I shall wait." He took a simple and sloppy form three posture, Gold saber slightly away from his body on the left, his other hand tapped his thigh absently. "When it comes, take these people to the medbay a few halls back, I passed it on the way, then come back, I am powerful, but it is always safer in numbers." Dash stated not looking from down the hall, waiting, watching, feeling the encroaching darkness slither forward, but he was there, for the first time in years he would once more take on his mantle and meet the Shadow.
I am nothing but Shadow against Shadow, for that is my path and my way.
Death stank in the Force. Much like a fetid corpse, as the powerful Ryu flickered from the world of the living, his essence scattered and wafted across the senses of those who could feel it. Alkor stopped for a moment, though he continued to stare blankly into the distance. After a moment, he sighed.
Strength was a matter of fact. Confidence often outweighed it. Understanding one's own limitations was fundamental to the concept of victory that Sith vaunted so, yet so often, they never made any connection between the two.
The King was dead. Long live the King.
While they had anticipated no complications, reality was hardly so simple. The loss of Ryu was a momentary setback, although the fact remained, it was a loss. Abbadon would be furious.
The Dark Jedi resumed his pace, slow and purposeful as the chaos reigned all around.
Ships crashed. Towers in Nystao shivered and crumbled beneath the weight of stray Snubfighters. Panicked screams from within the facility preceded an exodus of staff and patients. War had come to this place of peace.
Nystao shown is a bright display of red and orange, with hues of dark gray and black washed throughout and the city burned feverishly to cure that which plagued it. The vivid depiction below was but a prelude of the glorious cleansing that would soon be wrought upon the rest of the known galaxy as it was the mission handed down to the order through the Force, itself, to save the galaxy from that which would seek to see it crippled. The plague was but an initial phase of a much grander scheme. One the Jedi, and those like them, who harbored the very disease itself - encouraging it to fester - could only hope to understand in time if they thought to outlast the cure brought down upon the galaxy to cleanse each and every pore.
But as with any complex ailment, this disease would take time to be removed from the very fabric of the galaxy itself. Honoghr was just the beginning.
The modified Nu-class Attack Shuttle raced over the razing city of Nystao, its target the very Red Dawn Medical Center itself as the various fighters and bombers that had tagged along in formation broke and proceeded to targeting other various parts of the city in order to bring about the end of that which sought nothing more than to end to very galaxy itself. It was a glorious spectacle as disease was burned away in a cleansing inferno. But, the shuttle did not falter away from its course. It did not lose speed and the occupants new their very purpose moving forward.
You see? To this point, the happenings of the RDMC had been but mere child's play and the Jedi and others like them that sought to deny the inevitable had struggled to maintain a stalemate. In fact, even with the numbers at their disposal, the administers of the galaxy's cure pushed right along. They would not be stopped for one with a purpose for which he believes far outweighs that of the one of which is uncertain in their tasking. That and the fact defilers of the the very fabric that shaped the Universe had been caught on flat feet. The attack had been unexpected and the one's that would have you believe they stood for good and justice in the galaxy had proven to be disorganized and ineffective in holding to their vile and misguided beliefs. This was the way of the Universe and that thought to deny the natural law of things its very rights. That simply could not be.
Ever more the shuttle, heavily armored as though designed to be more of a battering ram than an actual transport, sped along its way. The Sith Lord it carried drowning everything around him in his dark aura. It rippled forth and caressed everything within its path. It hung heavy and surged with a power that seemed supernatural. A power that seemed to be greater than any one being should possess. And just when one might think the aura could be no more palpable that it had already proven to be, it surged forth in crescendo'd violence. Driven forth by an ire hatred as the man that had been known as Lapay no Ryu withered away from the living. Weakness sought to tug at the very strings of what should and should not be. One of the Dark Lords of Ruins had succumb to that which they'd been tasked to combat. The weak had proven that overconfidence in itself was the highest for of weakness and perhaps this is what had become of the Lapay. In his defiance of the disease that sought nothing more than devastation of anything and everything, he'd become the very thing he'd sworn to destroy. That . . . though . . . did not calm the diabolical hatred that poured from the Lord of Ruin, himself as the aura pulsed outward with more cadence now to the point it felt suffocating.
But times must press forth. The mission must continue. The galaxy and the Force had chosen him for a reason and he would not fail. He never had. The galaxy would be cleansed and it would be by his very hand.
3 . . .
2 . . .
1 . . .
BOOM! The shuttle collided into the exterior wall of the main reception area, barreling through and throwing debris in every which direction. Dust filled in the air at a rate there would be little to no time for any reaction from those in the vicinity. The heavily armored shuttled continued to barrel forward, grinding to an eventual halt along the floor of the center, still taking out more and more columns and walls. Tremors would surely ripple forth and be felt throughout the complex and in the disarray that followed a cleansing wave would follow.
It would take but a mere moment after the shuttle had come to its final rest, the the ramp would hiss and moan, descending gracefully to the floor. At the top of the ramp an armored silhouette would stand for a moment as two dozen armored soldiers raced out of the downed vessel firing their blasters at any being they found living, killing them and further cleansing this place of what sought to destroy it.
And so the Lord of Ruin himself had arrived. And so the real fight was set to begin. Play time was over and it was time for the Order stop toying with their play things and be done with it. The galaxy and the Force demanded it.
And now this is what it had all come to. It was a waiting game as the forces of darkness were ever closing in on them and it was their charge as agents of the Light, of Ashla, to remain steadfast even as those of the Dark, of Bogan, pressed them without any sign of relent. But this soldier of Bogan that approached carried an aura about them that seemed far beyond what one should be able to possess. But . . . perhaps not everything was as it seemed. Perhaps this immense aura that irradiated outward was a sham and something simply meant as a distraction. Something to cover the falseness that was a Sith and their their warped sense of value and strength. Their belief of what was fair and just. They were lies to one who knew the truth as observed through Ashla.
In hand, neither emitter had activated to produce their vibrant emerald green blades. Geir flourished the unlit hilt once more, casting his gaze again to the former Jedi Knight. He had no way to know for certain, but Geir could imagine had to be racing with thoughts and uncertainty. Uncertainty as to whether he had made the right decision to come here in aid of the Jedi Master. Question why the Force had brought him to this point. Why he was here and why the Sith had chosen to reveal themselves now. And these were things Geir planned to discuss with Kirwin and meditate on himself. Nothing occurred in the galaxy without a purpose and a reaso, and meditation was the key to having the Force divulge these answers.
Geir turned as he felt the arrival of the Zabrak through the Force and gave a subtle acknowledging nod to the man as he spoke of fighting alongside the pair of them. There was something greater at play here and that mystery would soon reveal itself. It was only a matter of time.
For now, they must wait.
And it was just at that time that Geir began to concentrate on his breathing and focus on centering himself further in the Force, that something dark and violent occurred. The complex shook and trembled, threatening to collapse all around them and tremors ripped through the place. Something foul was at play and it had now arrived. The aura that violently pulsed around them was now to a point that it nearly felt suffocating. It was unpleasant to say the least and his best defense against it for now was to continue to center himself within the Force.
A single emerald blade ignited, the blade humming with life after the snap hiss of the blade's extension. It wouldn't be long now before the dreaded conflict would be upon them.
Death was here. If one listens hard enough, they can hear it knocking.
In the airspace above the Red Dawn Medical Center, a cluster of dozens of tiny black dots appeared in the sky, far off in the distance. Perhaps a flock of birds or maybe a whiff of cloud? No, it was death. Any onlookers would watch as the dots began to augment in size, taking the shapes of several types of starships, formed together to bring chaos and destruction. The sound of the engines started off distant, just a low thrum, slowly pulsating through the air, but soon, as they grew closer, they became near-deafening screams as they passed over head, blue and purple torpedoes and bombs erupting from their metal hulls and crashing into buildings, bringing forth a second wave of equally shrill human screams. Explosions seemed to rock the very core of the planet as the ships simultaneously approached the Red Dawn Medical Center, with Abaddon's personal shuttle taking the lead. It dove and slammed into the side of the complex, breaching the wall with little effort before disappearing beyond the sudden eruption of dust and debris.
Then, it was Andor's turn. The squadron of bombers flew past his command shuttle, and two of them launching their payload. The advanced proton bombs landed on the roof of the massive reception area, the ceiling basically incinerating upon contact. Hunks of rubble fell down, crashing any soul that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But now, the entryway was clear.
The landing ramp extend from the body of Andor's shuttle, his slim, darkly robed figure standing on the edge, the wind whipping furiously at his clothes. He watched the compromised roof grow closer, and then, he drew the Force around him and he jumped. At first, he felt weightless, but then as he descended, he felt his black robes tugging at him, threatening to send him off course. Nimbly, he slipped out of them, and the empty fabric was lost above him as he fell, the wind screaming in his ears, taking the very oxygen from his lungs. The silver roof of the Red Dawn Medical Center grew closer and closer until he fell through it, dirt and dust billowing away from him like a ripple as he shot past.
Then, he landed with the grace of a feline, and his feet dug into the ground, a combination of the Force and the bend in his knees taking the pressure from his fall. His head was down, his whispy white hair hanging in front of his face, his hands extended to diagonally to his side with a black hilt with gold trim in each hand. His head snapped to face forward, his crimson eyes taking in the sites around him, and his twin blades ignited at the same time, bathing his pale figure in his crimson tunic in an equally crimson glow. His lips were parted in a smile, his unnaturally white teeth tinted in the red of his lightsabers. His body began to shake, although just a little, and he began to cackle as he strode forward, leaving two molten lines in the floor as he walked.
The younger Jedi had drawn his cloak about him to ward off the cold, but the spell was broken when the facility walls shook violently with the impact of a crashing ship. The temperature drastically rose from icy cold of fear to an inferno of anger. Not the anger that a Sith would seek for power, but that of a righteous rage; an anger in reaction to the pain and suffering of others, not the pain and suffering of one’s self. The true enemy was at hand, and Kirwin could feel it, and they brought with them Death and Destruction.
But when you have nothing else to lose, Death doesn’t scare you, when everything is in ruins there is nothing for Destruction to grab ahold of. And that is where these invaders made their mistakes. Kirwin looked about him, the patients had been successfully evacuated out of the wards that were behind the door they stood at. Master Vos stood in front of and between himself and Master Geir. The three of them standing in an imperfect triangle waiting for the enemy.
Kirwin called to the Force to render him It’s aid. The anger he felt increased the power that was growing within himself. He did not feel the darkness or corruption of the Sith from this anger he held. Perhaps it was because he was not directing the anger from within, but rather from without, for the people in danger from their current demises. Kirwin was unsure, but he would not let go of this fuel he was being blessed with by the Force. He reached up, and for the first time since his arrival to the Red Dawn Medical Facility Kirwin removed his hood to reveal his scarred face. The exiled Jedi felt no shame from the large jagged scar that traced itself from his hairline, down his left eye, and ended at his close-crop bearded jawline. The shame he had felt before was removed by this one moment in his life, where he no longer saw himself as the bad guy trying to become a good one. He no longer was afraid of what he might become, or what he had been. He now knew that the Force would guide his path better than he ever could have. And he would stop this destruction with the help of the Masters that stood at his side.
The clouds of dust that had been created by the destruction of the reception area roof blocked Kirwin’s normal sight from the source of the cackling that ensued. But the light of the twin red bladed could be seen, albeit barely. Kirwin unclasped his cloak from around his neck to reveal the Beskar breastplate beneath it. He could see the heat signature of the cackling man with his cybernetic eye, but he knew both Geir and Master Vos could not and he needed to rectify that, now. They didn’t have time to plan after the dust settled, and they were in trouble if they started this battle blind.
Unlike the Jedi Masters near him he did not draw his lightsaber nor draw his blaster, but rather walked forward a couple paces, pulled his arms back and shoved them forward to use the ability Force Push/Blast to clear the area in front of them of dust and reveal their assailant. He felt the power surge through him like a tsunami of energy ready to push every particle of dust away from where his stood. If it hit the source of the continuous cackling that was up to the Force, but Kirwin Hass, the Exiled Jedi Knight was ready for a Dual of the Fates.
Dash through up a barrier as the shuttle smashed through the roof, peppering the barrier with debris, then Kirwin threw back his hood and held up his hands, his scared visage reminded Dash momentarily of his lost apprentice. The force pushed clear the dust as blaster bolts peppered the area around the three Jedi, they where wantonly shot in various directions with no thought given to targets. Dash deftly deflected a few back to their sources, but the pressing matter at hand was the being that had dropped through the gaping hole before the dust had been cleared, he was cackling madly. Dash frowned, where all the beings here mad? Dash felt the battle in the hanger come to a close, four dead, all Darksiders, Dash could also feel his brothers rage flare so he must have dealt a killing blow to one of the enemies there.
"Kirwin, if you have a mind focus on the troopers for now." Dash said quietly over the blaster fire and shaking buildings, ."Master." He said to the other man. "Into the breach we go."
With that Dash charged forward saber raised up. He made no battle cry but his face was set with determination, his hair flowing behind his head. Deflecting the few blaster bolts that came his way at the cackling enemy before him, he adjusted his mass and slid to the left of the being swinging for his throat golden saber humming, blade flashing.
I am nothing but Shadow against Shadow, for that is my path and my way.
The world ahead was an inferno. Large ships made impact with the city of Nystao, dragging the tallest of its buildings to hell beneath their weight. Countless bodies dropped from the ruins, crushed and brutally disfigured beyond recognition by the wanton destruction. Bogan relished in their sorrow, gaining power and fueling those who drew from him for their own.
This was a warzone, and those who venerated the Light were besieged where they stood. Alkor Drew upon the Corruptor for his own dark purpose. While Andor and Abaddon began their assault, he moved along the grounds toward the centrer of commerce and when the first signs of flame came, he stretched out his awareness.
The flames were white hot in the Force as they brushed over his ethereal touch. Vibrations fanned their strength, and oxygen fed them. The slightest of influences was more than enough.
Embers became pyres.
Metal warped and creaked.
Wood turned to ash.
With his careful control, the fire rose. With more time, it would grow rampant and consume all of Nystao- but for now, this was simply how it began.
As she feared and expected death and chaos descended upon the planet and upon them, the "sith" were opportunists ever since the fall of the original sith empire. Strike where you can and strike hard to ensure you crush those you have targeted under your heel. As the alarms went off and people started to plan their methods of dealing with this she started to gradually erase her presence from their senses for she wasn't crazy like Adi or suicidal like the troopers. While unfortunate there was always profit to be made and she did have a ship capable of smuggling things of import from the soon to be ashen surface of this world. While the staff scrambled to save what they could in the chaos she took her time to collect a few items she was fairly certain would benefit her and the universe to be taken from the quaking walls of the RDMC.
Normally in situations like this she would slip out the back or some other escape route she had planned out but there was no safe exit here. Keeping her presence suppressed as she felt the malice and arrogance descend upon the RDMC followed shortly by the sound of something crashing into the building causing the whole place to quake. Steadying herself against the shock wave that rippled through the building she committed to a plan of action that was fully against her normal actions. Green eyes hardening for the ordeal to come as she made her way through the halls to the reception area.
The scene she walked in on made her sigh slightly as she looked at the sith lords who had landed here at the RDMC. What was it with them that made them all have to be so flashy and what the hell possessed them to need to crash ships into things. She would never understand the need for wanton destruction that they seemed to live and die by. In her eyes they were self-destructive imperfect beings but then again the self-rightious arrogance that their counterparts exhibited wasn't any better. It looked to her like two of them were going to lock horns right away while there were others less quick to act. She in turn took her time to read the flow of the battle and to familiarize herself with the weight and uniqueness of each of the darksiders' force presence so that she wouldn't mistake one for another. Her mental attacks would be wasted right now, she would need to wait until fatigue set in and start to chip away at their fortitude. She would need to find a physical place to hide while she studied them and waited for the right time to interfere since the force concealment would end up taking too much of a toll on her with this many people to deceive. Finding a large enough piece of rubble to hold up behind for now wondering if she was the hunter or about to be the hunted.
All Knowledge is valuable, you just need to know who to offer it to.
So now the scene was set and the pieces had all fallen in place. The Jedi. The Sith. Those too weak or confused to make a clear and obvious decision. From here moving forward, the choice would be simple for there were only two choices to be made. Would one choose to be a continuing part of the problem that drew the curtain of death and famine across the visage of the universe? Or would you choose to become a part of the solution that sought to amend and cleanse the very travesties that brought about a need for the galaxy to generate its own medicine to fight away that which sought to sicken and kill it? It was one or the other. Not both. Not undecided for those who chose to do nothing only aided in the damnation of the galaxy and the plague that had swept across it.
And so here we all were. The dust and debris danced and flourished as it filled the atrium and then proceeded to be pushed away to reveal more of the large chamber, though not everything. No. Still, much was left to the shadows and unable to be seen through the naked eye. Sure...one could reach out with the Force to attempt to grasp a more detailed image of what lay within the shadows, but they'd be only met with the overbearing aura of one completely immersed in the power that Bogan offered as it pulsed forth violently without end. Should that be the route someone chose to explore, the result would prove to be most unpleasant and unsatisfactory.
The various particulates of smoke, dust and other debris swirled throughout the rear of the chamber now, casting a heavy veil over the Lord of Ruin, the shuttle and the two dozen troops that fired their weapons madly at every flicker of movement that crossed their path. Jets of red energy flashed from the muzzles of their weapons, sending bright red bolts through the veil and into the unknown. The volleys of fire would be sporadic and inaccurate at best and only by mere chance could the rain of red energy hope to impact with a reasonable target, but it didn't mean that they had no chance to do that. However, there would be a few of the bolts that seemed to find their ways back in the direction from which they had come, mostly hitting vacated air and space as the troops never ceased their movement.
A sharp grunt of pain was expelled from the mouth of a soldier to the hulking Sith Lord's immediate right as the smaller humanoid man was struck in the knee from a returned bolt hobbling the man and forcing him to a knee.
"Pathetic." It was but an empty thought that brushed through Sith Lord's mind as the soldier dropped in anguish. The weak served as no benefit to the galaxy and that included from within his own ranks. Not even the men and woman that served him would escape the very cleansing he sought to expand to the rest of the universe. For the weak, even within his own ranks, were just as much a problem as the weak from the outside. None would escape and death was inevitable for any and all too weak to stop it. It is that very sense, that very truth, that gave birth to the Order of Ruin. And to fulfill that very thing meant simply to expunge that which is weak and decrepit from the body of the galaxy so that it could live on and become stronger from it.
Reaching out with his right hand, Abaddon grasped the wounded soldier by the neck and light him to where his feet dangled above the ground and crushing the life from the man. There were no words shared. No glances exchanged. No eye contact made. Simply the flame of life extinguished from weak. Once it was gone, the hand released the man to fall limply to a lifeless heap on the ground leaving twenty-three soldiers alive and well, firing a hail of blaster fire forward and into the unknown.
Finally after a few more paces were taken forward, the Lord of Ruin halted, he black cloaked wrapping around his phrik and cortosis weave armored figure. From within the veil, he turned on heel and faced the downed shuttle he'd arrived in and reached out with the Force and extending both arms, grasped it. His anger roared to life and in an instant the vessel lifted from the ground, still smoldering in fire and smoke. From there, the ship moved elegantly through the veil, hidden from the eyes of those at the far end of the room. Steadily it increased in its velocity and with as snap forward of his arms while turning with the it, the dark lord hurled the vessel across the atrium, its course placing it on a path to where it would slam back into the ground after about forty or so feet and slide another twenty or so further unless impeded. A heavy groan left from the dark lord as he cried out savagely in rage as he through the vessel with the Force. A rage further fueled by the deaths of the Lords of Corruption and Cleansing.
But with their undoing, it simply proved that further weakness was being expunged from the galaxy, leaving more to those strong enough to take it.
Much had happened in a matter of seconds and now there were a handful of people that stood on either side of the large atrium that was the reception area of the famous Red Dawn Medical Center of Honoghr. Well, what was left of it as it seemed both it and the city of Nystao were destined to become no more than a pile of rubble and ash. It was a dark day for the Galaxy and one that had come too quickly in the wake of the great plague that head swept through the galaxy mere days and weeks before.
Geir closed his eyes and focus inward, calling Ashla into himself and centering himself within the balance of the Light Side of the Force. There was so much pain and hate the swarmed from all around as he reached out. The anguish that drifted out of the city and the RDMC. The fear of those still clinging to their lives while writhing in pain. The fear of those that had escaped the clutches of death and even injury. It was so much and now the immense aura of Dark Side energy that filled the very chamber in which they stood was relentless and now there were other dark energies mixed with the malevolence he'd been feeling rippling through the currents of the Force to this point. But the sheer immensity of the auras of darkness forced Geir to withdraw and keep him from reaching out any further than where the cackling Sith immediately in front of them stood, lightsabers in hand and ignited. So for now Geir had to hope that the fog of war would clear soon as the dust would settle in. That he'd be given the clear imagine of what was before them and still shrouded within the shadows.
A shrill rang out through the veil as the sound of metal lifting from the duracrete flooring shot through the atrium. Not long after, the ebb and flow of the air currents gave way and a bulk object was seen speeding through it and out of the veil. A harsh cry followed as a man from within the shroud yelled out. The bulk object it turned out was a large shuttle, obviously reminiscent of what one might think would be used to crash into the facility and spur the quakes that happened earlier. It was on a b-line for the three of them should nothing be done to cease the momentum of the vessel, would easily take them out before the fight had ever begun, so now was the time to act.
It didn't take the Jedi Master long to spring into action and with the build up of Force energy he held within him, he took no time to build up a defense. Immediately his arms shot forward as he intercepted the ship with the force and sought to stop it mid flight.
But the object was large and tested every bit of his strength in the Force as he dug his feet into the ground and called more and more heavily on the Force. Soon the vessel hit the ground about twenty feet in front of the three of them, but its momentum had already begun to slow. And within ten to fifteen feet of where they actually stood, came to a rest, carving a small gully into the floor.
So this is how the Sith had chosen to open this fight. This was their play and perhaps it had been smarter than Geir had originally given them credit for as now the vessel obstructed the line of site between the opposing forces.
At first, the dust was thick and it was everywhere. Andor's hysterical laugh seemed to echo through the cavernous atrium and his mind swiftly noticed the three combatants somewhere in front of him. Each step, he brought himself closer to them. Each step, those Jedi grew closer to death.
Then, there was a breeze, and a swell in the Force and the dust parted in front of him to reveal the three figures. First, Andor noticed the older male, who's very presence seemed to bring a message of seniority, his posture and the way in which he held his blade a clear indication that this man was a veteran, a master. Next, an abnormally large Zabrak, no doubt some sort of creation from Nightsister magics or science experiments or something or another. Andor found himself not caring. The Zabrak was large, and no doubt taking a hit from him could spell disaster.... But Andor was confident he was no major threat.
Not that any of them were.
Finally, his eyes landed upon the third. A man who's face was scarred and torn, his aura not one of the light, but instead on trapped in the powerless middle. It was evident he was angry, his emotions boiling. Andor welcomed it, he relished it, he siphoned it like a tick licking at an animal's blood. But this third one, the one who wasn't Jedi, was familiar. The Lord of Deception knew he had seen this man before. But where? But there was no time to figure it out.
The Zabrak began his advance, his golden blade humming to do battle. He advanced, and Andor stopped to wait. Behind the Sith Lord, in the mysterious depths of the lingering cloud, there was a loud creak of metal and Andor could feel Abaddon's power explode as the Lord of Ruin screamed out in rage. Out of the swirling fog of dirt, was the shuttle, thrown forward as if it were flung from a catapult. It arched over the Lord of Deception and the approaching Zabrak and crashed into the ground.
The floor shook violently as blaster bolts began to fly through the air. Still the Zabrak came. This Jedi wanted battle and Andor decided it was time to oblige. Before Dash would even have the chance to move into striking range of his lightsaber, Andor swung his two blades upwards, his right first, followed quickly by his left. While he had waited, his tips of his blades had been resting in the floor, the superheated plasma melting it away until their were two small pools of orange molten metal. Now, with the swing of his two blades, Andor flung the molten liquid in Dash's direction, smiling as he waited for it to splash against the Zabrak's skin.
The Force swirled around him, growing in strength with every passing second. His own presence, combined with Abaddon's, created a darkness so thick, so overwhelming, the Lord of Deception knew the Jedi were outmatched. Yes, the Jedi had managed to cut down Ryu and Ishmael, the lords of cleansing of corruption. But they were overconfident and therefore, they were weak. And the weak deserved to perish. Their might was nothing compared to the combined strength of Deception and Ruin.
As the scene in the atrium began to unfold, in the area just outside of the impact zone where Abaddon had crashed his shuttle, the four troop transports landed, their landing ramps extending in a hiss of steam. Soldier after soldier began to pour out, the footsteps of the 300 heavy and the duraplast armor clanking. They swarmed forward, funneling in through the gigantic hole in the wall and into the cloud of dust within. Bringing their Westar-M5 blaster rifles to their shoulders, the elite Cathar troops activated their thermal scopes, quickly locking in the location of the Zabrak, as the other two bogies were hidden behind the transport. The troops continued to pour in, the first six of them firing their underbelly grenade launchers over the thrown shuttle, hoping to blow up anything behind it.
Looking through his scope, one particular Cath noticed another thermal signature, off to their right, before it suddenly vanished behind what appeared to be some sort of large solid structure. Quickly attracting the attention of four others, he pointed in the direction of the hidden being and clenched his extended hand into a fist giving the order: Destroy. The five of them fired their grenade launchers, hoping the incinerate the rubble and the woman who hid behind it.
Kirwin stood upright, his anger still burning within him like a furnace, but it did not cloud his judgement not cause him to think rashly. He watched as the landing shuttle crashed between himself and Master Vos, cutting him off from any immediate aid. That was when he sensed the mass of troopers incoming, with those numbers the fight would become increasingly difficult. Kirwin looked up to the top of the shuttle where he planned on making his next move, only to see six grenades hurtling toward them. He easily caught them midair with the Force, then safely dropped them before he leaped atop the shuttle using Force Jump. He quickly took notice of five troopers firing their grenades at a mound of rubble off to his left, “Strange. But I will borrow those.” He thought to himself as he reached out and grabbed the explosives with the Force and sent them back to their original owners.
The younger Jedi exile easily dodged some oncoming fire, before leaping again toward and disappeared into the smoke and dust cloud created by the grenade detonations. There he used his cybernetic eye to quickly identify any of the five troopers that may have survived the blast, then proceeded to quick-draw his DL-44 and rapidly fired at them before spinning to his right and hiding behind the pillar next to him. It felt like a dance to Kirwin, one he hadn’t 'danced' in a long time, but was ingrained into his memory. How long had it been since he had actually fought an enemy that wanted to kill him? His last bounty against a Mandalorian smuggler hadn’t really counted, that contract had seemed too easy. But it did get him a good paycheck and the chest piece he currently wore. Also, that felt like ages ago.
Kirwin took the moment to take a short breather and looked at the mound of duracreet rubble that the troopers he had just dispatched were aiming, even with the aid of his cybernetic eye he couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary. He quickly returned his focus to the battle that had just begun when a blaster bolt hit the pillar directly above him. He ducked out of instinct then dashed to the next pillar, firing his heavy blaster as he moved. If he could use the smoke and dust as cover, he could remove a large portion of these troopers without breaking a sweat. But he knew that in the end he would need Geir’s help if either of the Sith were attracted to his goings on.
His anger transformed from anger to an energetic joy. Not the sick twisted joy of a killer, but the joy of a protector, knowing he was working toward his goal of saving the inhabitants of the RDMC. He was saddened by the thought of having to end the lives of so many men for a senseless attack, but he would do what he had to in order protect the innocent from evil. He glanced around his current hiding place and saw the heat signature of a large man surrounded by a quick count of at least twenty troopers that was slowly increasing.