The Shepherd
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Post by The Shepherd on Aug 4, 2015 17:26:30 GMT -8
Rutil followed closely behind the lieutenant, his business within the academy pyramid concluded. The detonator in his hand throbbed and pulsed, begging to be activated, begging for the Valley of the Dark Lords to be reduced to rubble. The bombs themselves, though deeply entombed within the antechambers of various grave sites and the pyramid proper, radiated with an energy that called out to the Jedi every bit as loudly as the detonator asking him to unleash it. And while he was in no danger of prematurely setting off the several tons of themobaric weaponry now lining the Valley of the Dark Lords, Rutil had a hungry look to him that would only be washed from his stony face when he saw the explosion from orbit.
At least until he reached the base camp, where he was just in time to catch a broadcast from above.
This is Hoser, one of the Skipray pilots from orbit called out, we've got one going to the ground team. StealthX from what we saw. Stay sharp.
Rutil stopped cold, clapping the lieutenant on the shoulder, gently but firmly halting his movement as well. "Lieutenant," Rutil spoke, his green eyes not once leaving the darkening skies as night finally began to fall, "have this interloper dealt with as soon as your men see him. But if he decides to approach on foot, leave him to me."
With a curt nod, Rutil made his way towards the boarding ramp of the Spearhead and called out for Captain Marris. Less than a minute later, the CR90's dorsal guns were all primed and swiveling, each gunner scanning the skies for a hint of the stranger headed their way. Outside the vessel, the Felucian soldiers posted up anywhere they could find cover, ignoring their collective unease and sharpening their eyes as a possible threat came at them from above.
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Post by The Shepherd on Aug 4, 2015 17:16:12 GMT -8
Not long after Hoser's squadron picked up on a ship making its way towards the planet, another squadron of Skipray Blastboats saw something unmistakable. The glow of a ship's sublight engines were hard to disguise as anything else to a seasoned spacer, even less so when their eyes saw little else in the course of their duty.
Whoa, the appropriately-nicknamed Eyeball called out over the mission's secure channel, we got another one, boys. Acklay Squadron, form up on my mark and flank on my target, you'll know when you see it.
Kicking the fighter into high gear, Eyeball was joined by her squadron in pursuit of the freighter - an RC-2, judging by the engine configuration - and heard the sounds of several lock-on chimes as their weapon systems targeted the heat signatures of the stranger's engines. There were only so many reasons any ship at all would be flying around a waste of a world like Korriban, let alone undetected until the very last minute.
Pilot, Eyeball began, this time broadcasting on an open channel, you are flying in controlled airspace. Identify yourself immediately or you will be shot down. Acknowledge.
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Aug 4, 2015 16:28:36 GMT -8
Post by The Shepherd on Aug 4, 2015 16:28:36 GMT -8
Rutil couldn't help but admire the Sith's skill with two blades. It was an inherently difficult form to use and even more difficult to master, but for all his abhorrence the Sith had managed to do something right with his life, and it showed. Rutil's blade was caught.
Rutil's arms, however, were not.
As the red blade came down, Rutil darted out of its way, forgoing his weapon to trap the arm of his enemy. Seizing the arm at the wrist and elbow, the Zabrak had been mere moments away from snapping the monster's arm clean in two when his hands registered metal instead of flesh. Rather than shatter his hand trying to shatter the Sith's arm, Rutil held it and pulled himself further away from the Sith's control zone, sending a powerful kick to his enemy's lower back.
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Aug 4, 2015 14:08:16 GMT -8
Post by The Shepherd on Aug 4, 2015 14:08:16 GMT -8
There were very few rules of combat that were set in stone. Those that were - and that he taught as such - Rutil was growing closer to ignoring as each minute passed. But there was one that he would never allow himself or those in his charge to break; no matter who, no matter what, never turn your back on your enemy. He spun around the instant his feet hit the floor, his blue blade lancing out to catch the Sith's red one just in the nick of time. There was a brief pause in the action, just long enough for the Jedi to growl a response to the Sith's would-be taunt.
"Not of you."
Batting the Sith's blade away, the Jedi began to advance, letting loose with a flurry of Djem-So strikes to the Sith's body, trying to force him into the corridor. Rutil had seen the Sith fight, and all of his characteristics thus far had shown a preference for Ataru. If he could force him into the corridor he had been trying to back into, leaping and soaring about wouldn't be possible, and from there it was only a matter of time before Rutil was able to skewer the son of a bitch.
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Post by The Shepherd on Aug 4, 2015 13:52:24 GMT -8
The lone fighter had indeed activated its stealth systems and made its way to the planet below, but not before it had been spotted by a squadron of Skipray Blastboats patrolling the sector. They had been unable to get within range, open a channel, or get a lock before the craft vanished. But there was one tool they had that could outrun any starfighter.
This is Hoser, the pilot of one of the Skiprays said over the secured comm channel, broadcasting his call-sign, we've got one going to the ground team. StealthX from what we saw. Stay sharp.
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Aug 3, 2015 22:21:04 GMT -8
Post by The Shepherd on Aug 3, 2015 22:21:04 GMT -8
The protective field that Rutil had summoned with the Force had paid off. When the Sith tried to yank his feet out from under him, most of the attack was rebuffed and repelled, requiring only a quick shift in footing on the Jedi's part to nullify it completely. And as the Sith made his approach, Rutil remained standing, unmoved by the monster's presence and unfazed by the theatrical display. But despite his complete lack of fear, despite his ever-growing desire to take the Sith in his hands and break his body apart bone by bone, he continued to backpedal, slowly but surely eventually coming near the threshold.
Then, with the Force as his tool, he struck.
The Jedi took a flying leap backward, landing on the metal frame of the Gungan bubble door before capaulting himself in a front flip towards the Sith Lord, arcing down with his brilliant blue blade, angling to sear his throat and burn out his taunting voice forever.
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Post by The Shepherd on Aug 3, 2015 22:05:04 GMT -8
A group of Felucian soldiers, knowing communication would be vital on this mission (and that communication was not their commanding officer's strong suit, judging from his stony face and stoic vocal tone), had taken the liberty of setting up a comlink receiver not too far from the base camp. The soldiers themselves, having little to do now that the Emerald Blades had opted to take the watch, huddled around the receiver, smoking and joking as they waited on word from the squads inside the terrifying graves of the Sith Lords of old.
They did not have to wait long.
Squad B reporting in, all clear.
Squad C, all good here.
This is Squad A, tomb is clear.
This is Squad D, all clear.
There was a pause. There was one squad yet to report in. But after what felt like an eternity of silence, the growling voice of the Jedi that led them to this Force-forsaken world came across the air.
Squad E is good. Roll them in.
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Post by The Shepherd on Aug 3, 2015 21:59:03 GMT -8
The entrance to the Sith Academy was a haunting sight to behold. Flanked on either side by the cracked and crumbling statues of two humanoids holding up the pyramid, Rutil Iorek and five commandos moved up the steps and into the main entryway. The soldiers moved in teams on either side, checking each corner and covering down the long hallway. But the Jedi strode in confidently and brazenly, his unlit lightsaber ready in his hand, stretching out with the Force for any threat that may lie in wait. But - just as he had known - the pyramid was empty. Devoid of anything useful. Bereft of anything valuable. The commandos quietly wondered among themselves why the Jedi had even bothered to come at all, let alone with them them and a pack of mercenaries in tow. But their thoughts didn't trouble the old man. For him, the former bastion of Sith knowledge was inviting. Welcoming, even. The thoughts of those under his command meant nothing.
Even if there had been something worth taking, it would stay right where it was.
The group entered the main atrium of the academy, situated squarely in the center of the floor they had come in on. The teams broke off to search the area and - just as he knew they would - came back empty. Rutil's awareness extended upwards and outwards, probing for a threat he knew wouldn't be there. As the commandos came back, Rutil let a grim smile cross his lips as he raised his comlink.
"Squad E is good. Roll them in."
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Post by The Shepherd on Aug 3, 2015 21:34:52 GMT -8
Of the four main tombs in the Valley of the Dark Lords, Naga Sadow's was the deepest and most complicated. Not that it stopped Rutil Iorek's Squad D from taking it with speed and force. In fact, they had done so faster than any of the other commando squads dispatched to clear the tombs. But they were taken by the beauty of the crypt; compared to the valley proper, Naga Sadow's tomb was untouched, and it was still every bit as ornate and lavish as a Sith tomb ought to be. That didn't stop it from being dark and creepy, of course, but it still had a certain beauty to it that the squad leader could not deny. Knowing what she was about to do almost felt like a shame.
"This is Squad D, all clear."
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Post by The Shepherd on Aug 3, 2015 21:30:14 GMT -8
Squad C moved through the tomb of Marka Ragnos with complete silence, communicating solely via hand signals. Comparative rookies, the squad was composed of the most gung-ho young men Master Calmcacil could get his hands on, and they were not above having a little fun on the job. Overexaggerating their movements and using hand signals to the point of being obnoxious, Squad C pushed through the tomb with speed, finesse, and the occasional pause - only to keep from snickering - before finding the tomb cleared out. But they knew that long before they even hit dirt; the Jedi that took over was wasting everybody's time, but that wouldn't stop them from making a decent training session out of it.
"Squad C," their leader called out, "all good here."
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Post by The Shepherd on Aug 3, 2015 21:26:24 GMT -8
Squad B's squad leader had heard about the Valley of the Dark Lords. He had been expecting it to be grandiose and magnificent; a pompous shrine to the Sith's decadence and a monument meant to last. Like the Jedi that had commandeered her services, she was not especially pleased to find out that the legendary valley was little more than a bunch of rocks. Even the tomb's interior had not been spared by the ravages of time; every booby trap had been sprung, every door had been opened, and everything of value had been removed. The squad leader wasn't entirely sure why they were even there, if she was honest with herself. But she had known Master Calmcacil and served in the Felucian military for some time. Long enough to know that the Jedi usually had a plan.
Her confusion, however, did not stop her from completing her mission.
"Squad B reporting in," she finally called into her comlink, "all clear."
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Post by The Shepherd on Aug 3, 2015 21:22:36 GMT -8
Squad A moved through the old, decrepit tomb quickly and silently. Just as one of them had overheard the Jedi bastard telling Captain Marris, it had been completely emptied out; anything of even remote value had been plundered, either by the Sith that had taken residence on the planet or by scavengers or tourists looking to fetch a paltry sum on the black market. Not that it bothered the squad leader any; his job was to simply clear the tomb and get back out. Fortunately, the tomb was more linear than not.
"This is Squad A,", the squad leader called into his wrist-mounted comlink, "tomb is clear."
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Aug 3, 2015 21:02:41 GMT -8
Post by The Shepherd on Aug 3, 2015 21:02:41 GMT -8
"Never heard that one before."
At first, Rutil had merely been bluffing when he said he had expected more. But for someone trying to rile up their opponent, goading them into a fatal mistake, the Sith had chosen the wrong opponent. Between the years, the experience, and the deep-seated contempt for all those like his enemy, Rutil simply didn't care. He knew he was old. He knew he was a Jedi. So what?
Rutil took slow steps backward, back towards the hallway that led into the antechamber, getting a better look at the abomination hanging in the rafters as he readied his next move.
"So, what am I going to etch on your tombstone?"
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Post by The Shepherd on Aug 3, 2015 20:37:30 GMT -8
This was good, Rutil decided. This was simply too good.
With nary a word said, the mercenaries found their places and fell in, ready to assist with the bombs. Reaching into the black leather belt that wrapped his waist, Rutil drew his comlink and clicked it on, speaking only one word.
Execute.
Simultaneously, the entry teams - made up of five commandos per tomb, detonated small, powerful charges to clear away the debris and the door before breaching into the long-closed tombs of Tulak Hord, Marka Ragnos, Naga Sadow, and Ajunta Pall. As the teams disappeared into the cavernous darkness, Rutil Iorek himself began to march into the Sith Academy, flanked by a commando squad of his own.
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Aug 3, 2015 20:25:41 GMT -8
Post by The Shepherd on Aug 3, 2015 20:25:41 GMT -8
While the Sith was busy slashing away at the elegant chandelier-like fixtures, Rutil was watching his every move, readying himself. As the monstrosity above him made his move, Rutil gathered the Force around himself, letting it permeate and replenish his body anew. It lit his nerves on fire and sharpened his senses. It tensed his muscles and it quickened his pulse. The Force had always been Rutil's ideal, and he had been a devoted servant to its will all his life. But things were different here. Now, it was his ally.
Now, it was his weapon.
When the makeshift flechette came at him, Rutil stood his ground. His training told him to get out of the way. His body told him to be ready for the pain, and to fight through it as he always had. But his will said something else altogether. And it was his will that won out; just short of his face, all three blades stopped cold in mid-air, hovering ever so briefly before falling to the floor with a small clatter.
Rutil had never been so brazen or showy as to outright intercept an attack of that nature, let alone do so as inefficiently as he had. But Rutil had held back before. He had held back on the surface, and forty-odd villagers had paid the price. The Jedi had held back when he had been a Padawan, and the whole Order had been annihilated. At the behest of the Praxeum staff he had eased his training regimen, and one of his pupils had almost been killed by a kriffing droid. But the Sith would not hold back. They would not be restrained by laws or morality. And if he - or the galaxy - was to ever stand a chance, then neither could he.
Not anymore.
"I had expected more from a Sith Lord," Rutil said, his voice carrying a chilling edge, "or are you just the true Sith's lapdog? It would explain a good deal."
As he spoke, he continued to let the Force build around him, reaching out with his senses to find an opportunity that would let him in.
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Post by The Shepherd on Aug 3, 2015 17:09:51 GMT -8
The Valley of the Dark Lords was as desolate and as unforgiving as Rutil Iorek had expected it to be, even to those that had claimed it as their final resting place. Once a place sacred to those that worshiped the power of the dark side of the Force, it had fallen into ruin and disrepair over the centuries, occasionally being used as a training ground for those enraptured by promises of power and prestige among themselves and the galaxy as a whole. But while the grizzled Zabrak standing on the bridge of the CR90 corvette landing almost directly in the valley proper had not expected the Sith to be sentimental, he had expected some level of respect for those the Sith claimed to be the best their alleged order had ever produced. For all their talk of their ancient traditions and how mighty their forefathers were, seeing the final resting place of their most honored members left their claims sounding as empty as their souls.
So far as Rutil was concerned, it was yet another vindication of everything he believed about the dark side, and why its practitioners should be put as far down as he could send them.
The soldiers under his command were already making ready for their missions when the Jedi stepped off of the ship, and the saffron cloak he wore made him almost indistinguishable from the rusty-colored sand and stone that made up the infamous Valley of the Dark Lords. It was even less impressive in person. Taking long strides towards what must have been some grouping of statues, Rutil saw little more than tall stones sticking out of the ground with only spacing and a general grid pattern to tell an observer that there had been any significance to them. His jade eyes looked to the sides of the valley, where caustic winds had wiped away much of the engraving of tombs that had been carved directly into the rock, with only a door at the bottom of each tomb and an unnatural smoothness to the valley walls above them to betray their true nature. And at the end of the valley, relatively untouched by the ravages of time and the indifference of its hosts, the pyramid of the Sith Academy stood as the ultimate testament to the final fate of every Sith Lord. It was taller than the surrounding tombs, smoother than the valley stone, and it was clearly meant to be the centerpiece of the valley, but even it had not managed to avoid abandonment and disuse, falling into disrepair and saved from total ravishment solely by its comparatively recent use.
The Spearhead's floodlights illuminated the valley, and soldiers set up small light fixtures near the openings of each of the valley's tombs, ready to flood each entrance with blinding light and illuminate the way for whatever team was designated to make entry. And while the men hustled this way and that, their Jedi commander stood as still and as silent as the former statues in the courtyard, his eyes not once leaving the pyramid at the valley's end. His silence and stillness was broken only when the ship's captain, Marris, approached him.
"Excuse me, sir," Captain Marris began, "do you have a moment?"
"I have one moment, Captain," Rutil responded in his usual abrasive, gravelly-voiced manner, "don't waste it."
"Sir, some of the men are worried. More worried than I've ever seen them, in fact, and some of us went through basic training together. At first I thought it was merely nerves, that you might be sending us on a suicide mission, but their worries have only compounded since we reached orbit. And...I'll admit, my knowledge of the Force is limited despite our duty posting, but..." Marris paused, trying to find the words that would leave him sounding halfway competent, "...Master Jedi, is something on the planet at work here?"
Unbelievable.
Unbelievable.
The grizzled Zabrak slowly rounded on Captain Marris, barely-concealed contempt shooting forward from his jaded green eyes, boring into the captain's very being as he thought of the many ways he could chastise the man. He and his men were scared? Of a few rocks and some blowing wind? This was the elite fighting force of Felucia? Whatever enthusiasm Rutil had gathered for the mission vaporized as the person acting as his lieutenant showed his true colors. Nevertheless, it was a fair question. Ignorant - especially from a man that answered to Master Calmcacil - but fair. Perhaps answering it would quell his cowardice, and when it trickled down to the men, they would be able to not royally botch their mission.
"The planet is at work here, Captain," Rutil finally said, his voice as cold as the coming night, "the very planet. The Force can be warped. Twisted. And if done for long enough, and consistently enough, it can leave an imprint on a place that cannot be undone. But that's all it is. All you and your men feel right now is the shadow of the Sith perverting the Force for their own ends. Anything that could pose a threat here is long dead, or long since removed. Feel better?"
"I...uh, well..."
"It doesn't matter," the Jedi abruptly interrupted, "you're here to complete a mission, and we won't be leaving until it's done. Get on it, Captain."
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Aug 3, 2015 16:07:48 GMT -8
Post by The Shepherd on Aug 3, 2015 16:07:48 GMT -8
He felt it coming before it happened. A blast of concussive air erupted between the Jedi and the Sith, the force of it sending the Sith flying backwards and onto his back. Rather than fight it, Rutil dropped to a knee and let the wave ride over him, rolling with the telekinetic explosion. It was far from fun, and the old Zabrak could feel the air forced out of his lungs as his body felt hundreds of fists impacting his body all at once. But rather than being sent across the antechamber, Rutil fell into a roll and was back on his feet in a heartbeat, the Guardian's blue blade having left a short glowing scrape in the floor to his right.
The Sith had not fared nearly so well. When Rutil's eyes locked onto his prey, the abomination had landed flat on his back towards the far side of the Gungan antechamber with a loud thud. Rutil's every instinct told him to rush in and finish him, and it took every fiber of his being and every second of his training to remind himself how bad an idea that was. Rutil was strong, skilled, focused, and had survived where countless more talented Jedi had died, and he had slain Sith vastly more powerful than himself. The reason he had managed to do so was because he followed one simple rule; he always assumed his opponent was stronger, more skilled, and more focused. He had seen firsthand how quickly the Sith could react. Trying to close that distance was suicide.
Rutil let out a breath that could have been mistaken for a feral growl as he collected himself. He knew better than to even think that way.
As the Sith leaped to his feet, however, Rutil was ready for him. Rather than reach out with his hand or his lightsaber, or make a mad dash into the red blades that lie in wait, Rutil once again stretched out with the Force. A quick, violent, and targeted burst upward would propel his enemy far further upward than he had intended, sending him into the air, into a fall, and - if there was any justice - into a place where Rutil could finish him once and for all.
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Post by The Shepherd on Aug 3, 2015 11:05:27 GMT -8
Just as Rutil had thought, the mercenaries had come better prepared than they. Not that he minded; with proton torpedoes, accomplishing the mission to standard would have required the Spearheads' full complement of ordinance to achieve the desired result, as well as whatever the Skiprays had brought with them. But two thermobaric warheads per tomb would be plenty. The K-Wings might be able to provide a better bombing run. And as far as the grand finale went, Rutil knew firsthand just what an Acclamator could do.
Excellent. My team will relay our initial scan of the area so you can calculate the appropriate ordinance. We're making our approach now and we'll set up base camp on-site.
Within a minute, the computers of the Acclamator received a series of data sheets and topographical scans, conveying all the information that the Spearhead's computers were able to gather; topographical data, size of the area site, and local climate was all theirs to know. Not long after the initial ping, the CR90 ignited its engines and made its way planetside, the Skiprays fanning out to being patrolling the sector.
Oh, the old Zabrak chimed in over the comlink, and that ordinance? Find out what's needed...and double it.
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Aug 1, 2015 12:13:09 GMT -8
Post by The Shepherd on Aug 1, 2015 12:13:09 GMT -8
Rutil had a feeling of what was to come the moment he felt the resistance - or lack thereof - of the Sith Lord's blades on his own. The abomination did not go very high, favoring practicality over theatricality as he touched down not far behind the Zabrak and came in with a counterattack. Almost as soon as he landed, the Sith lashed out with his left arm, a long red blade of energy aiming to cut the older man in two. There were several ways of neutralizing that particular threat. But Rutil saw only one that would work remotely well.
Rather than engage the Sith, Rutil slid back, aided by the Force to carry him almost two meters backward, letting the Sith's attack cut through nothing but air. And when he came to a stop, Rutil forsook all form in favor of power, and sent a powerful Force Push in the Sith's direction.
For a moment, the Guardian had worried that he'd overextended himself; he could feel the raw power leaving his body as it shot from his body like a slug leaving a barrel. But almost as soon as it left, Rutil once again felt refreshed and ready, the energy that had left him building back up faster than he had ever felt it do so before. It confused the Jedi for a moment before he snapped himself back to his opponent; he wasn't about to look a gift kaadu in the mouth.
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Post by The Shepherd on Aug 1, 2015 11:17:40 GMT -8
"Sir! We've got something!"
The ops officer stationed at the ship's scanners pointed out the several blips on his large screen as Rutil walked over, his eyes darting over the triangles and their designations. They were not yet identified as friendlies, but their coordinates matched up with the ones he had provided the Emerald Blades, and given that he had chosen a location in the system well outside the normal hyperspace entry route, the Jedi Master found it difficult to believe a Sith fleet just happened to arrive in that same spot. And he was glad for that; having an Acclamator on his side again gave him a warped sense of nostalgia and pride.
Gentlemen, Rutil said as he took command of the comm unit another crewman of the Spearhead had taken the liberty of preparing, good to see you all made it. My plan was to just have you lot standing by up here, but you might actually be better equipped for this mission than we are.
The operation is as follows: when we touch down in the Valley of the Dark Lords, five of my commando squads are going to clear out the main tombs and the academy. I'll be down there myself, just in case any wayward Darth Sonofabitch decides to pop in and say hello. Following that, we're going to cart some ordinance into the heart of each area, clear said areas, and blow the entire region to hell and back. We've got a couple dozen proton torpedoes on our side, you boys have anything heavier?
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