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
Manic laughter burbled from the Priest's flayed lips as he whirled through a hail of blaster fire to slash the nearest Guardian's throat. Blood spattered from the collar of his cuirass up to his chin, but he was still moving, ducking low to evade the next volley before springing toward his next target.
Blood pounded in the Mandalorian's ears and a visceral tingle played across his nerves. It was as if he could feel Kad with him, guiding his blade. The Destroyer God laughed as blood sprayed across the duracrete, and his disciple dealt a whirlwind of death all around him. It was the first time Faust had truly felt his presence beyond the shadow of a doubt. Suddenly, joyously, he began singing a battle hymn Trull had taught him when he first came to the Temple.
The fear in his victims' eyes intensified.
His knee came up into a Guardian's abdomen, and when the Kiffar doubled over Faust drove his dirk into his ear, burying it to the hilt. Using the blade as a handle, he pivoted around the slumping corpse and used it to shield him from a burst of blaster fire, then leaned out from behind his makeshift cover and put two slugs in his attacker.
Ripper outstretched, barrel smoking, he suddenly realized he was alone in a circle of corpses. He lowered the pistol, then holstered it. It took both hands and a knee against the corpse for leverage to free the dirk. Sitting down heavily on the dead Guardian's back, the Mandalorian drew his knees up to his chest and sighed.
"Rilk," he called out in guttural Basic. A moment later the Duros took a tentative step inside the hangar. "Prep the shuttle."
"I deal in death and thralls, aruetti. Which is it you seek?"
Alkor approached the generator purposefully, unassailed by any security presence. He felt something amiss, but it seemed distant. Where were all of the guards? His fingers moved over the surface of the machine, hot to the touch.
The Dark Jedi found the power switch, then the manual override in short order. With steady hands, he sifted through commands and steam escaped from the vents, buffeting his face and singing flesh.
Arcs of electricity jumped across the surface as the output steadily rose, and the translucent shield flickered as lightning slammed against it. Alkor took a step backward, eyes turned toward the heavens. Rain soaked his face as he patiently waited.
Another strike landed, and the machine groaned in protest. Immense power surged through the shield and traveled toward its origin point, now unprotected by a switch.
The result was more catastrophic that Alkor could have hoped.
He felt danger surge outward through the Force. Instinct overcame him and he threw his body out of the way, mere seconds before the blast. Shrapnel joined the steady torrent and peppered the ground loudly, even as flames rushed out in every direction. He barely had time to summon a protective layer of Force energy to prevent the worst of it.
Heat still managed to scar his dermis, scratches from the metal lined his arms. The whole prison colony shivered from the blast, reeling as nature rushed in to stake its rightful claim over the land.
A strike hit the installation off center, and rocks exploded from the floor. Alkor scrambled to his feet, narrowly avoiding a strike that should have burned him alive. He gripped the weapon Faust bestowed on him tightly, despite the danger it posed to his person. He still needed it.
Electrity blasted the cannon ahead of him, and the guards posted outside scattered. "Help!" came a plea as the doors burst open, "it's Rajeesh! He's lost it!"
Three guards turned and trained their weapons on the doorway, and one of them erupted from behind them. His eyes were wide, manic, and intensely bloodshot. Their fire seemed not to dissuade him in the least, and even as his body was badly burned, he jumped on the first man.
Alkor raised a brow.
Teeth and fingernails rent flesh and arterial spray danced across the unprepared faces of the man's former friends. "Gods below," one of them uttered as their comrade died before their eyes, killed by someone he had known for years.
"Run!" screamed another man from behind them, "Akhil is the same way! The whole world is going ma-!"
He never finished his sentence. His face hit the ground, and another crazed Guardian tore at his back hungrily. Alkor let out a sound almost like amazement, then turned away.
"Whatever this is," he murmured, "we need to get away from it."
Anguished howls rose skyward and intermingled with thunder as brother turned against brother. More of the Kiffar erupted from a door that led to the cell blocks, along with several humanoids and creatures easily identified as inmates. They all had the strange affliction in common.
Alkor threw the door shut behind him and stretched out his hand, willing a large barrel from nearby to barricade the entryway.
They needed time to stage an exit.
"Hey, mercenary," he raised his voice. "We have a problem."
The concussion that reached the hangar was enough to shake the very duracrete beneath them. Fueling equipment shook loose gaskets and connectors and began weeping the pungent liquid. Tools and repair equipment clattered to the floor in a violent clatter.
A pleased smile bowed the Priest's flayed lips.
The sound of the carnage taking place in the courtyard reached through the hangar's open door like a siren's song to the blood-thirsty Priest. Terrified screams and guttural snarls wove a beautiful harmony, reaching a crescendo with the heavy footfalls drawing ever closer.
Faust stood, knife in his right hand and Ripper in his left, licking lips stained with blood that wasn't his and staring eagerly at the open doorway.
And then Alkor burst through, hastily barricading it behind him. The Mandalorian blinked, trying to process what he'd seen before the Jen'jidai had blocked his view. Kiffar Guardians sprinting after him, their hands empty of weapons and their teeth stained with blood. Their eyes were wild and they heeded nothing in pursuit of their prey.
He rounded on the Demon, disgusted. "What have you done, demagolka?"
Without waiting for a response he turned and strode away from the doorway and the shrieks of those attempting to break it down. The lone shuttle was nearby, with the ramp lowered and the engines humming, now he just had to open the overhead doors. The controls were unencrypted and easily operated- luckily for the technologically challenged mercenary- and with a flick of the switch the doors began to slowly slide apart.
Just as the door they had come through began to give way.
From atop the closing ramp, Faust and Alkor stood side by side, watching the flood of infected Guardians pour into the hangar. And then they were above the cloudline, the ramp was closing, and Rilk was screaming from the cockpit.
He fixed the Demon with a long stare, sulphur yellow eyes searching. "That was no sorcery of yours...so what was it?"
"I deal in death and thralls, aruetti. Which is it you seek?"