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
It had taken a long time for her to get out of bed that morning.
Not that it came with the ease it used to anymore - age was catching up with her day-by-day - but there was more to it than just the telltale ache in her bones. Time passed strangely as one got older, but the past three years had come and gone in the blink of an eye. Three years since she’d last shared a bed with her husband, since the two had managed civil conversation, since she had last seen her son alive. One-thousand ninety-five days had a way of feeling like nothing at all that Keira wasn’t capable of comprehending just yet.
Eventually she managed it, leveraging herself onto her feet and making her way to the bathroom, the shower scalding in a bid to burn away the pain of the day she knew was yet to come. Pushing away even that thought she’d dried off, dressing herself and walking to the kitchen to rummage around for breakfast. Things were nearly the same as they’d been the day he’d left, right down to how the cabinets were arranged. So similar were they, in fact, that she was still uncovering misplaced relics from a past she would for the most part rather forget, if at least to make the pain of it all a bit more bearable. But every day she discovered something else her husband had misplaced, a habit he’d no doubt not grown out of while raising their granddaughter.
Stretching on her tiptoes, she wiggled the stuck container free, holding it with far more consideration than one would give a jar of spices. Because she wasn’t there anymore, at least not entirely. Not in the way that mattered, for her conscience had been transported to a time long in the past. An easier, happier one.
His smile wasn’t something she had to look back at pictures to see, and she never had to pull up old videos to hear his voice, because both were engraved into her memory. It was his embrace that she missed, the simplicity of holding her son in her arms and having the security of knowing he was there with her, and safe. Because she hadn’t been able to do that when it mattered most, because he’d lost his chance at life, and it wasn’t fair.
The rest of the morning passed in a haze, and only a knock on her door jarred her to reality. Blinking once, she shook her head in a bid to clear away the cobwebs, trying to decide who was at the door and what they needed. Any in her clan didn’t feel the need for such formalities at this point, content with walking in and making themselves at home. Marvik wouldn’t have bothered with a knock either, as he still knew his way around what had once been their home with the same ease she did.
With a furrowed brow she opened the door, considering the face of the man that greeted her and deciding he was a stranger in the same breath, but Mandalorian all the same. "Su’cuy. What is it you need?"
Lately, Hal had thought that his days could not get any darker than they had become when Concord Dawn had fallen victim to the virus that plagued their world. Nothing was darker than watching their crops spoil day after day and watching the remains of his people fall sick to the maddening carving for flesh.
Hal was wrong.
The last week had been a long and arduous journey for the Commander. He'd done all he could, exhausted all of his options to quell the rising tensions between the people of Concord Dawn and the returning Priests of Harangir. Hal had thought they were long lost after the Holy Crusades under Ashrah, but alas, the dar'manda had returned, bringing blood and slaughter in the name of Kad with them. They had offered for Hal and the remnants of the people of Concord Dawn to join them, and some had hesitantly accepted the offer. But Hal knew his people deserved better.
Earlier in the week, Hal had slipped out of the Capital's garrison base, a complex he had sworn defend with his dying breath. And even though he was countless lightyears away, Hal still let his promise guide his actions. He wore his 'gam, its grey surface scratched and worn from the decades of battles he had endured. His buy'ce was cradled in his right arm as he stared at the closed door in front of him. He took a deep breath and raised his gloved left hand and rapped it assertively against the metallic door. Silence followed, but Hal waited patiently. He was about to knock again when the door suddenly opened, revealing an older woman, who's body displayed its own stories of war, on the other side. Before Commander Qaibel stood none other than the one person he sought out, the former Mand'alor of clan Verd.
Hal dipped his head in response to her acknowledgement, "Keira of clan Verd, former Mand'alor, I am Hal Qaibel, garrison commander of Concord Dawn. You have no idea how good it is to see you." Hal raised his head, letting his burdened and tired eyes connect with Keira's, "Unfortunately, I bring grave news."
Long had it been since any had addressed her by such a title. These days the most formality granted was the mantle of alor, but even that was reserved only for particular occasions. That he knew her immediately as a past Sole Ruler raised questions, but she would let it pass in favor of the more pressing matters he brought with him. With a glance over his shoulder to check if he brought others along she stepped aside to allow him entry, the door sliding closed behind him.
With a wave of her hand she would indicate for him to follow, leading him into the living room and taking a seat on the couch, gesturing for him to sit wherever he wished. Even in the main room there were few windows to let light in, and those that did exist were strategically placed to provide the best oversight of the property immediately surrounding her dwelling. An old warrior she may have been, but that had only served to increase her want for such precautions.
"You can rest easy, al’verde, you’re among friends here. What’s troubling you?" None of her clansmen were currently on Concord Dawn as far as she was aware, most either making their home on Mandalore or venturing elsewhere in the galaxy for the sake of adventure, credits or some combination of both. Whatever news he brought, she had a feeling it concerned the whole of their people.
That, coupled with the fact that he’d deemed it necessary to greet her as a former Mand’alor caused a pit to form in her stomach, and she was loath to make any assumptions until he confirmed or denied her suspicions. Still, she had a feeling little else would have brought him to her door with such a particular greeting.
But then, as she’d been reminded of late, there truly was nothing idle about her person.
"Thank you," He said wearily as he stepped inside and then waited to follow Keira into the living room. His footsteps were heavy has he meandered his way to one of the windows, stopping to look into the rising sun. The sky was still pink with shades of yellow and orange, but the sun itself was still below the horizon. But the beauty of the scenery went unnoticed as Hal noticed his reflection in the glass. At first, he didn't even recognize himself. He looked terrible. His weary eyes distracted him from the scar that outlined the right side of his jaw. The scruff of his unshaven face darkened the lines of his face and his eyes were sunken in, dark bags drooping below them. There was a long moment of silence as Hal stared at himself before he remembered where he was.
"Our people can barely survive as it is, with the havoc that has been wrecked by this sickness. We scavenge almost day to day, searching for anything that will help us survive," He sighed, "I admit, things have been rough, but we were born as warriors, and our people have always found a way to overcome and to conquer. But now, we've had a new development and I don't think I have it in me to face this new threat alone."
He turned to Keira and made his way to the couch, stopping to stand beside it and not actually choosing to sit down. He didn't have a lot of time. He'd already been gone for too long. Who knows what the Reavers had done by now. "We've been besieged by a large group of Dar'manda led by one who calls himself the Prophet of Harangir. They're group of religious zealots who seek to cut down anyone who does not share their devotion to the Destroyer God and frankly, we're outnumbered."
"Does this prophet also have an interest in declaring himself Mand’alor?" Keira had listened to every word with the corners of her mouth drawn tight, only directly meeting his eyes as she posed her halfway rhetorical question. Sighing quietly, she ran a hand over her head, considering the dire tale he spun.There was nothing to say, and yet he expected an answer.
Nodding her head, she opened fists she hadn’t recognized as being clenched tight until that moment. "I believe I’ve met the prophet you speak of. He was at the Oyu’baat not long ago. We spoke briefly, and he enlightened me as to his crusade. Now I suppose we know what was meant by that, ‘lek?" She laughed humorlessly, the terse smile never reaching her eyes.
"You have the backing of my clan in the coming conflict. Aliit Verd stands with you." As if that had ever been a question in the first place. Her stake in the inevitable war had been present from the very beginning, and making it known was only a formality at this point.
Silence persisted for the following seconds, and again she met his gaze. "Now, what is it you’re really here to ask of me?"
To Keira's first question, Hal shrugged. He hadn't heard of the Prophet wanting to claim the title of Sole Ruler, but at the end of the day, he wouldn't bet his money against that claim either. But then Keira continued, talking about how the Prophet himself had recently traveled to Oyu'baat to speak with her himself.
Immediately, Hal's heart sank and his body tensed, expecting the former Manda'lor to reveal that she too had seen Kad's vision and was sworn to a life of destruction. He closed his eyes in disbelief, readying himself for a fight he had never expected. And then her voice was in his ear again, this time pledging her clan to their aid. He let out a long breath of relief, opening his eyes to look at Keira, already a face of shame sprouting on his wrinkled and scarred features.
And now the real question. What was it that Hal wanted? What was it exactly that he needed from Keira? His face hardened and he moved across the floor, closing the distance between himself and Keira. He raised his armored hand and placed it on her shoulder, "He can't claim the title of Manda'lor if the throne is already occupied. It's time for you to return." It was not a question. It was not a request. It was the truth. The time had come and Hal was not going to let Keira shy away from this. "Aliit Qaibel, and all of Concord Dawn will stand by your side as we reclaim our homeland. Together, we will be the protectors against the wrath of Kad."
For a time Keira only sat there, not quite looking to him but not quite looking away either, seemingly in a limbo of sorts, as if she hadn’t heard his words. The pressure of his hand on her shoulder was the only thing keeping her grounded in the present, and for it she was mostly thankful. The muscles of her jaw worked slowly as the weight of it all sunk in, the true extent of what he asked of her.
After some moments she stood, crossing the room with a sharp exhale and not turning to face him for those first few seconds, arms crossed. When she finally did her brow was furrowed, the lines of her face sharp. "You came this far to ask me to reclaim a title I never wanted in the first place." Tentatively she took a few steps towards him, running her hands down her face with a sigh.
"It doesn’t sound like I’m being given much of a choice." She spoke in fragments, not entirely sure herself what her answer would be. There was too much here to consider, and the window of time granted wasn’t nearly large enough.
Chewing her lip, she watched him for a moment as if the answer could be found there, arms finally falling to her sides in defeat. "Okay." She rubbed her eyes, well aware of the headache that was to come. "‘Lek, fine, I’ll do it. Don’t expect to find much favor while leading the people into a civil war. What are your plans?"
"You always have a choice. That's what sets us apart from them." It was his only interjection, and then he allowed Keira to finish speaking her mind. Yes, she was the only one that he trusted: the only one that Hal truly believed who had the ability to lead their people against the dar'manda. But if she turned her back to him and their cause, he would understand, and he would fight to his last breath to save his people from darkness and slaughter.
Fortunately, that wasn't the case and Hal's eyes brightened, just a little, as Keira accepted the proposal to reassume the throne and to serve as Manda'lor against the Prophets of Kad. The corners of his lips briefly lifted upwards in a small, curt grin, but was soon gone as he cleared his throat and began to share his plans, "Right now, all we can do is fight to survive. Having to scavenge for food and fuel takes up enough of our time and energy. Having to handle the prophets is overwhelming our people. If there are any supplies, whether its weapons, ammunition, food, fuel, troops, starfighters, hell anything you can spare, we'll gladly take it," He finally sat down on the couch, positioning himself to face Keira as he spoke, "We're holed up in the capital, a makeshift wall barricading us on the inside. The prophets have taken up residence in the Temple and they constantly have scouts watching our every move. We have to find a way to expand our territory and to push them out."
Her lips pressed together, Keira considered the state those he led on Concord Dawn were in, knowing full well there wasn’t a perfect solution. "You’ll be given what we can spare. As far as pushing them out goes, well," She knew what needed to be done, but the very words weighed heavy on her heart, "We rally. If they’re so insistent on war, that’s what they’ll get. It’s been some time since the vode have been called upon." And it fell on her to do it.
"If you need any more, let me know and we will provide. The best option I see is an attack from without, while your men push from within the capital. They have nowhere to go, and once we close the gap, they burn." It seemed simple enough, but nothing was rarely as it easy as it seemed on paper. The first obstacle was finding which clans would follow and which would abstain, and this time around she wouldn’t blame them: a civil war was far from an ideal cause.
Finally, she sat down next to him. "I don’t want to keep you, I know your aliit must need you on Concord Dawn. I will see what I can do here, for the time being, and then we will give these priests their war. The last thing our people need is more division, we need to rebuild more than anything. Stay in touch, al’verde. This isn’t a fight you’re facing alone."
