Darth Belial
Member
"The difference between gods and daemons largely depends upon where one is standing at the time."
Posts: 220 
Affiliation: The One Sith
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Post by Darth Belial on Jan 16, 2016 23:06:49 GMT -8
They were helpless beyond reproach. While at first I had believed this connection to be a mere passing fancy, as I watched them fall further into each other's embrace. It was clear that this was becoming an issue, one that would need to be eradicated at the next possible venture. They were unfocused and unable to attain their real potential. Yes, they were capable weapons, but they could and should have been so much more. It was clearly a mistake to bring them on this mission. They were not ready. Letting a massive sigh of frustration slip through my vellum lips, I tore my gaze from the vanishing Conquerors and focused upon the mewling form of my adopted son. Another creation, another failure. Is it my destiny to be surrounded by such incompetence? However, unlike with the Twins, where years were wastefully spent honing them into weapons, I could at least proudly state some progress in my efforts to perfect the Technovirus.
It was once considered forbidden and forgotten arcana until some years ago my younger-self had come across one of the last beasts still existing within the known galaxy. I can no longer remember where that was, as the memory itself had been lost when my consciousness had been transferred into the first of my many susceptible hosts. What I do recall, was the intense sensation that ravaged my old body before I had forced my soul into the aether. Not an easy task mind you, but when one's body is being devoured and simultaneously replaced by metallic tumours - desperation takes hold. Thus, as my soul had forced my vassals into the depths of my new host, I watched with fresh eyes as my body was transformed into something extraordinary. I had only read about what the technovirus was capable of at that time, and even then it couldn't encapsulate the majesty taking place before my very gaze. Once I had subdued my former self, I simply had to replicate the results. Words, in this case, proved much to be a much easier pill to swallow than deeds, as it took centuries of studying my lifeless husk just to unlock the secret of how it worked - let alone reproduce the result.
In my studies, I had found that the Technovirus was a hypocritical amalgamation of one's mastery over the force and their proficiency in the alchemical arts. Many had speculated that this viral infection was simply to breathe life into the inanimate metal plates of a junkyard to create an army of mechanical monsters. However, the truth of the matter was far more grim. The virus, if such a thing could be called that, consisted of microscopic nanogene droids that consumed the flesh of the living and simultaneously grew metallic tumours as they instinctually cut a swathe towards the victim's brain. Once there, they would effectively lobotomize the host and deprive the being of it's higher brain functions. Devoured from within by a malicious malaise, and warped into a beast torn from the depths of your nightmares. What a delicious way to die.
The Jedi had died like that. I felt as much when my mind had caressed theirs before it had been forcibly ejected at the end. The lifetime's worth of memories and experiences, the consummate value of the soul, had been cast screaming into the void much to the delight of the beings that waited for them beyond. When I had returned to my corporeal form, a cold shiver ran down the length of my calcified spine. It was the lingering traces of the mental bond that sought to purloin my soul. If I were an untrained adept, my essence would've shared their fate and been lost within the abyss without a second thought. Nevertheless, I batted aside the crude attempt to take what was mine and carried on about my business. Such cantrips could wait for another day, one when I wasn't already pressed for time.
Inhaling a mouthful of this stale air, I moved towards the crumpled form of Amit and smiled. He had served his purpose in life, and would do so again in death. Taking out one of the many knives lashed to my waist, I slid the monomolecular edge underneath one of the metallic tumours and reclaimed several thousand of the infectious nanomachines. Placing the silent collective into a glass phial that I had withdrawn from the folds of my robe, my lips had curled into a savage grin. Now I had something to look forwards to after all had been said and done. Sliding the glass flask back into it's secreted housing, I then placed a consoling hand atop what remained of the man I had taken under my tutelage. Memories of the past had flooded my consciousness, and I felt the pangs of sorrow and loss stab at my venomous heart. Typically, such an emotional connection would've been considered weakness to those within our Dark Coven, as many within the benighted Order believed that the Sith should only feel anger, hatred, and rage. Such foolish notions, stunting the emotional spectrum so that the force could easily make you it's slave. No wonder the Master wished to purge the Sith before carrying out his grand vision.
With the moment of reverie now passing into history, I applied a small measure of my power over the Force and cast the metal corpse of my former student to the edges of the Hangar Bay. The body clattered across the marble flight deck, shattering the silence that had blanketed the cavernous chamber. He had served his purpose, and his legacy would live on when my tests had resumed. Therefore, I no longer had a need for his body, and it would make for an interesting ornament for the Jedi to hang from their Lifeday trees. Something about tradition and the requirements for metal. Truth be told, I couldn't care less what they did with his body. If they sought to study it to combat my emerging viral strands, by all means. They'll never unlock the code, no matter how intelligent they believed themselves to be. It would take them decades of strenuous research just to figure out that this Creature was a man before his death, let alone divining who it could've been. By that time, the Galaxy's bright and vibrant flame would be extinguished and the time to counter said virus would have long since passed.
Confident in my choice, I lead my war party of the Sons of Amit towards the exit of the Hangar. As I hobbled across the gleaming, and blood stained marbled, I found my eyes drawn towards the recesses of the cavernous chamber. The shadows seemed to dance as my eyes flicked back and forth, leaving me to wonder they had grown whenever I looked away. No. He couldn't have. It was far too soon for them to make their appearance! Again he was revealing his hand way too early. Was he acting a fool just to expedite the process of finishing off this little endeavour? What did he expect would be the result. Something like this needed careful planning and proper execution! If he was to remain in the shadows as the Galaxy burst into Flames, then why would - The Twins. Dears Gods, he already knew. Yes, he was all powerful and likened himself to a God, but how could that be? Wait. These Shadows. Had they always been there, lurking and waiting for the right time to strike?
No. He wouldn't send them to strike. He was smarter than that. It was I that acted a fool. He had discharged one to the Temple to serve as his eyes and ears; his voice should the need be required. Breathing heavily, I closed my eyes and began to extend my consciousness beyond the ravaged shell of my mind, seeking to draw out the creature from where it dwelled. Seconds after I had expanded my thoughts to encompass the surrounding silent hangar I felt it's presence.
This... was something I had not felt since...
There was a sudden, inexplicable pressure building behind my eyes causing me to blink. At the edge of my sight, the shadows seemed to twitch with a metaphysical impossibility. It was there that they began to unravel from the darkness, flowing from one darkened pool to the next. The sounds of chittering voices filled my thoughts and causing my cadre of Technobeasts to whine and whimper. Lobotomised automatons, lacking all emotions save for the ones I have given them, feeling fear for the first time since their gruesome birth. Now, this was an interesting development. Silencing the throng of unseen mouths, I turned my gaze towards the sinuous ethereal that had been given form by the fears of my beasts and the darkness that dwelled beneath it's feet. Its face was somehow familiar, and when it smiled with that impossible smile, the illusory chips of porcelain within its fanged maw flashed an all too traditional Corellian grin.
<< There would have been a time I would have said see you in hell... however, as I see you are standing before me, I know that I am already there. >>
Flashing a smile of my own, that all too familiar feeling washed over me like a tidal wave of recognition. I knew who this man once was, and his time on the other side had not done his sense of humour any favours.
"The Master has little patience, Shade, so speak your piece and be off."
It nodded, letting contrails of oily smoke billow into the air, before evaporating moments later.
<< Very well. As you have no doubt guessed, the Master knows of the incestuous nature of the Twins, and by his words - he wishes that you do nothing. Let them nurture this bond for as long as it does not interfere with his plans. Deny them nothing, and their souls will rot. Then, once they can bond no longer and their souls have finally blackened, they shall be what you've trained them to be. >>
Cocking my head to the side, I bit my rough tongue to stifle the bubbling argument festering behind my teeth.
"Very well. What was the old adage again; Ignorance is bliss? I shall do as the Master asks, as I always have. Ensure to tell him that once you slither back into the shadows from whence, you came."
The creature raked the air with it's ethereal obsidian talons, staining my sight as it coiled back into the darkness and vanished before I could blink again. Smoke demons. Belial's Aetherborn kin. They were filthy beasts born of one's greatest fears and their darkest emotions. They, like the Sith Lord himself, were darkness incarnate. Spitting a gobbet of blood onto the flight deck, I tore my gaze away from the shadows and turned towards the door in the distance. Thankfully, there were no more interruptions as I made my way through the carnage. After several minutes of hobbling over the corpses of the Dead Jedi slain by the Twins, I came to stand behind them. The grin that had plastered my lips from earlier, while fake in its entirety, had remained as I gazed into Rhazeion's eyes.
"Dispose of the bodies. Burn them if you must. When you are done with the Jedi, I want you to go to the Hangar Bay and cremate Amit for me." Reaching into the folds of my robes, I withdrew a small phial of an emerald solution. "Throw this into the fire. It will melt the metal and turn it to molten slag." Earlier I had mused that Amit's corpse would be a perfect trap for those that came after their raid had long since ended, but during the transit from the Hangar Bay to here, I felt that such a ploy would've been pointless. Why leave the virus in an inactive host, where it couldn't spread nor accomplish its primary protocols? Thus, when he did as I commanded, the emerald liquid would cause the Technovirus to go airborne and filter through the entirety of the Temple. Now that was the trap worthy of my genius.
With my command given, my eyes flickered towards Iztara. "And finally you, my dear." My false smile had faded as those words left my lips, leaving her to wonder what exactly the future would hold. "You will go to the Archives and the Security Station after that. Destroy the Holorecordings in their entirety. I do not wish the Jedi to know of your existence, outside the one's you've already sent into Harmony's embrace. When you have done that, join your brother in burning the corpses. Take Trophies, leave nothing behind that would point directly to us. Let them believe that Kashyyyk's Vengeance has come. There's even a Bowcaster in the shuttle. Feel free to shoot the walls here and there. Make it look sloppy."
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Post by The Twin Conquerors on Feb 7, 2016 15:38:57 GMT -8
War is on the horizon, and the dawn of time was upon them. Now they are sixteen, standing back to back, fighting off men vastly older and three times their size. They have learned the hard way not to cry. Through blisters, cuts, and bruises they persevere. Their father watches from above, detached and indifferent. He is a shadow, a presence you feel, but do not dare to see. That is enough to make them nervous, just enough to make them hesitate.
They cannot fail. He has given them purpose… ambition… guidance. They cannot fail him. The Force is their salvation, their weapon, their shield. Even though they succeed, he turns away, disinterested. Never were they what he had wanted them to become. Never would they be just good enough in his eyes. Your bond, it weakens you, their instructors whispered when their father was not looking. There is no room for empathy in war, and it had been a point drilled into their heads on numerous occasions. This is what you were made for, the time for play is over. There is only the war.The twins were meant to be the siege weapons of the Dark Lord’s army, the heralds to his arrival and unmatched fury. To the Sorcerer they were just another failure. To their father, they were nothing. Where others saw failure and incompetence, the Jedi perceived the makings of nightmares. These were the creatures they told obstinate padawans about, the very beasts that would come for them in the midst of the night, were they to misbehave. Rhaezion stepped into the heart of the main ziggurat, his eyes scanning the large hall unimpressed. So this was the famed temple of the Jedi. I had been under the impression that the Jedi were supposed to represent an Order of humble guardians. It was safe to say I was not expecting this lavish and ornate embellished structure I found myself in the midst of alongside my sister. Of course, father had ensured our lessons over the years addressed the various civilisations of the known galaxy, of which the Jedi and their temple had been lectured on in whole. But holos could only convey so much, lacking the grandeur that currently surrounded my sister and I. So much for austerity, what lay before us was truly the palace of the Jedi.The shadows danced on the walls around us and I felt an inexplicable pull towards them as I duly noted my brother gawking at the architecture around us. Sure it was grand, and I supposed that was where he and I differed – Rhaezion had an appreciation for the beauty in this galaxy where Iztara merely destroyed everything she touched. The shadows lining the walls seemed to melt into blackness, and ever was it difficult to tell their shape from the pervading darkness in which we cast the temple. Even a ghostly outline of a deeper grey, promising things untold, did not seem to deter or halt her in her tracks. It trailed her movements, hushed as the night, dancing between points of light against a backdrop of nothingness. Iztara had been just about to reach out and touch the wall by her side when she heard the unmistakable footsteps of the Sorcerer.Her mood soured in a matter of a few seconds as she looked to her brother for guidance. I saw the uncertainty in my sister’s gaze as the Sorcerer approached us. She is strong, but she has been left bereft of even a shred of control. I blame the Jedi. I blame our mother. But Rhaezion knows he cannot heal the rage festering within her. It would only take one more provocation, one last final surrender before she would be taken from him forever. The Dark Prince walked to move between his sister and the Sorcerer, almost protectively. At home, he was her competition, her nemesis. But here, he is her protector, her guardian. He stands resolute and untouchable, showing all that he has her back. His love for her always had been and always would be his greatest weakness. The Sorcerer looked straight at Rhaezion and he did not hesitate to level his eyes upon him. Always was it ever a battle fought between the space of their gazes, the first one to look away belied their subservience. He knew better, had learned this lesson before through watching his sister. He quickly dropped his gaze and listened intently. “Yes, my lord.” Rhaezion intoned, his voice resonating deeply within his chest and carrying a tone of compliance, albeit begrudgingly. Taking hold of the small phial from the Sorcerer, he did not wish to leave his sister’s side, but leave he did as he stalked menacingly back down the hallway.As he passed by his sister, she did not even move a muscle or turn to watch him go, his hand brushing against the back of her own. Iztara remained impassive as her brother left her with the Sorcerer, her gaze darkening as she looked to him. She did not like the way he looked at her. His eyes that I once fell into as I searched for praise and attention instead caused my stomach to turn every bit as badly as the time father made us kill the bouncebeasts that Rhaezion and I brought home as pets when we were younger. I could see the darkness in his eyes, these long looks told me of his bitterness, and of how my list of failings was never ending. Suddenly there was a loud noise of something crashing into the floor behind where Iztara stood, her attention momentarily drawn to the sound as it echoed off the walls of the great hall they stood in. One of the bodies of the Jedi she and Rhaezion had killed only moments before was inexplicably located in the middle of the hall now. Next thing she knew, one of the bodies of the other Jedi came flying out of the arch framing the hallway. Without even needing to concentrate, she could feel her brother’s frustration from here. Whatever connection they had as twins was strong on its own, but had been excessively amplified through the Force, to the point that she always seemed to have an awareness of him and what was going through his head. No matter the distance between them, he was always there as if he were a part of her – his heartbeat an echo of her own.There is a long pause before she turns back to the Sorcerer and responds, “As you wish.” There was no ‘yes, my lord’ or ‘no, my lord’ from her. Iztara was always one to toe the line when it came to propriety and she had more than enough scars to show for it. At the very least, she bowed her head to him before turning abruptly on her heel and stalking off.
Heading across the main hall, Iztara stalked toward the High Council Tower, for at its base lay the central security station. Ascending another flight of stairs, she makes her way into a long hallway and at the very end, a pair of blast doors stood ominously. Raising an eyebrow, the Warrior sighed and began digging in the confines of her robes for a small pouch. Pulling it forth, she unzipped it and selected a single computer spike. Inserting the spike into the door controls, it immediately went to work assaulting the security systems, controlling the blast doors, with garbage data entries and queries. Before long, the computer spike ejected itself from the door controls and they opened with a whoosh of air. Stepping into yet another long hallway lined with several security stations, Iztara replaced the depleted computer spike and selected another. Inserting the spike into one of the security stations, the protocols written into the spike’s programming code began to first, slice through the firewalls and second, access the security mainframe. It did not take long for the spike to interface with the secure system, chipping away at its defenses in a matter of minutes before it cracked. Once this had been achieved, the malignant programming contained within the spike began working to corrupt the security holo-files and bring the whole system down, all without a trace. This took a slightly lengthier amount of time, during which Iztara paced impatiently up and down the hallway, lost in thought. The telltale click of the computer spike ejecting itself was all that broke her reverie. Snatching the spike from the terminal, she stalked out of the High Council Tower and headed back to the main ziggurat.
Stalking off down the center of the great hall, Iztara strides toward the main entrance and enters the First Knowledge quarter of the Jedi Temple. Locating a marble staircase against the wall, she climbs the stairs two at a time to ascend several levels. Once she reached the Archives, the Warrior hardly pauses to take in her surroundings as she stalks toward her objective. The statues in the great windows that lined the Archives looked upon her impassively and a brief glance at the larger than life Jedi made her feel as if she were an intruder upon a rather sacred space. Their lightsabers raised in defense, she was sure if they were able, they would strike her down on the spot for what she had done and what she would do. Entering through the First Hall, Iztara was struck by the sheer amount of knowledge this place contained and now she could understand why Rhaezion had been so upset at being relegated to clean-up duty. Not only was he separated from her, but he would not have a chance to explore the Archives. Walking along the main aisle, her fingers ghosted across the bronzium sculptures that lined the walkway. She recognized the likenesses of these busts from some of the tutoring lessons her father had ordered in her earlier years. While Iztara knew she recognized them from somewhere else too, she knew better than to try to access those memories. It had long been forbidden since father had taken….no, rescued them from a life of servitude and sacrifice. He had done both her and her brother a favour by whisking them away from that wretched place, and he had done everything in his power to make them forget who they had once been. Now there was only Princess Iztara and Prince Rhaezion. And their father was a god, who would dare to question them now?Making her way to the center of the Archives, Iztara finally came to the Rotunda. This was what she had been searching for. Stepping through the arched doorways that stretched from the floor all the way to the ceiling, the red carpet was plush and yielding beneath her booted feet. Making her way to the large database station in the center of the room, the Warrior hops the counter that ringed the main computer terminal in the center of the Rotunda. Tapping a few Aurebesh symbols on the holographic keyboard, she begins to call up the holo-recordings that the central security station backed up on the Archive servers. It was easy enough to erase these records herself, so she did not bother with another computer spike – though she had one just in case. Right as she is about to start doctoring the activity logs, concealing any trace of her ever having accessed the system, a thought comes to mind.Pausing, she considers this newfound idea for a moment. She had not been explicitly instructed to muck about in the Archive’s computer systems beyond that which concerned any security recordings. However, the Sorcerer did say he did not want the Jedi to know of the twins’ existence. That was justification enough for her, she decided. Surely, the Sorcerer and her father would approve of what she had in mind as long as it was done correctly. Running her fingers across the holographic keyboard once more, Iztara begins her search for any records relating to herself and Rhaezion. She finds very few that document their sudden appearance on Hapes and subsequent adoption into the ruling family after father married the Queen Mother. Those would have to go. Her hands fly across the keys as the records disappear. Pausing, she wonders if she should search any records pertaining to her previous life, if father would be disappointed she even thought about it. She reminded herself once more that the Sorcerer did say that he did not wish the Jedi to know of their existence. Throwing all caution to the wind, her fingers move of their own accord across the Aurebesh letters as she begins typing out their previous designations. :: Saphira Concordia + Airen Concordia ::Without realizing it, Iztara had been holding her breath as she waited for the terminal to return the records she was looking for. Only did she release it when she saw several entries in the Archives. Part of her wanted to read through each and every one, but she knew if she dawdled any further than she had already done then the Sorcerer would be most unhappy. The Warrior also suspected that her father would somehow know. But what if she were to copy the records and just read them later? No, she decided. This course of action was unacceptable too. She came to the startling realization that her hands were trembling and her mouth was suddenly dry. Swallowing the uneasiness that had begun to form in the pit of her stomach, she resisted temptation and deleted the records before also cleaning the activity log. Standing there, she just stared down at the terminal and wondered what those records contained. It does not matter, I told myself. Saphira and Airen Concordia are dead. They were weak and pathetic, and did not deserve to live – to possess the power she and her brother now shared. It was better this way. The galaxy was safer for it. Reaching into the folds of her robes, she pulls out the zippered pouch once more and removes another data spike. Inserting it into the access port on the computer terminal, it immediately went to work, corrupting and deleting a myriad of archival records that were entirely unrelated to her or her brother. This would ensure that no one could ever pinpoint the records she had accessed and subsequently erased. About five minutes passed before the data spike ejected itself from the access port, indicating that its mission was complete. Snatching it up, Iztara returned it to the pouch within the folds of her robes.After a moment, the hair on the back of her neck began to stand on end and something prickled in the dark recesses of her mind. The Force was alerting her to danger. Quickly, the Warrior ducked sideways and narrowly avoided losing her arm at the shoulder as a lightsaber suddenly impaled the computer terminal in front of her. Turning, amber slowly leeched through her eyes and spread to fill the whole of her silver irises.
There standing before Iztara was one of the most grotesque beings she had ever laid eyes upon. It was a nasty and crude appearing creature. An Aqualish, and from the looks of it, this was the Chief Librarian of the Archives, if its robes were anything to go by. She was not quite sure of its gender, but she was also certain she did not care. She felt it coming, as if it happened in slow motion – the barriers in her mind momentarily lifted as she reached out in the direction of the Aqualish, flicking her hand to the side rather nonchalantly. The surge of power that shot through her body was almost enough to make her stumble in supplication as she fought to hold onto it. However, as quickly as it filled her and made her feel complete once more, it left her bereft – as if her soul had been cleaved in two. She was now left empty, an empty shell of what she had the potential to be. In response to the movement of her hand, the Aqualish went flying into the wall of the Rotunda, cracks branching out from the point of impact as the creature fell to the floor. On its stomach, the Aqualish was clearly disoriented as it struggled to push itself up on its arms, gurgling out something in the strange language of its people. Iztara did not care, lip curling into a snarl, she drew her crimson lightsaber in the blink of an eye and leapt from behind the counter littered with terminals. Sailing through the air, the Warrior drove her lightsaber down through the back of the creature, extinguishing any last sign of life. Standing there looking down at it, the room was bathed in the crimson glow of the plasma arcing around the main blade of her saber. There was no flicker of recognition on her face, no regret for what she had just done. Calling the Jedi’s lightsaber to hand, Iztara deactivated her own and placed both hilts on her belt before bending down and slinging the Aqualish librarian over her shoulder.
While Iztara had been off gallivanting around the Jedi Temple, Rhaezion had been reduced to clean-up duty. It was infuriating and he was not quite sure whether he was more upset with the Sorcerer or his sister. She did not appreciate this place quite like he did and he knew one trip to the Archives would have settled his rampant misbehaviour for years to come. His sister was the one he most loved and most hated in this galaxy. However, the nature of love and lust never occurred to him. They were like identical twins – love and lust – similar on the outside, yet all too often were they mistaken for one another. On the inside was where the world of difference lay. If he did something that earned him what passed as praise from the Sorcerer or even the slightest bit of attention from their father, she would always run off and attempt to best him, put him to shame. He should have been flattered that she went to such lengths to watch him and try to emulate what he did. But he was not. In this moment, he was exploring the limits to his control as he exercised restraint. The darkness and the shadows tempted him, whispering of the sweetness that could be found in such a release. The Dark Prince ignored it all and tossed the last body onto the pile of corpses he had assembled. It appeared as if it were some kind of morbid sacrificial offering to Bogan. Quite suddenly, another corpse appeared to fall out of the sky and Rhaezion hazarded a glance upwards. On her way back across one of the walkways that traversed the main hall of the temple ziggurat, Iztara dumped the body of the Jedi she had slain in the Archives over the railing, adding to Rhaezion’s ever growing pile of bodies. Merely raising an eyebrow at her pausing to gaze down at him, he exhaled a sigh before turning and heading back to the Hangar Bay where they had first entered the Temple.
Once Rhaezion had crossed the threshold from the temple to the hangar bay, it did not take long for him locate Amit’s limp body. Striding over to it, he stooped down into a crouch and paused to examine what the Sorcerer had taken so much pride in. It was a crudely assembled creature, organic flesh twisted with metallic shards and corrupted with the Dark Side. He could just feel the darkness emanating from it and it felt glorious. But this creature was merely a mechanical comedy of errors. Recoiling in disgust, the twin cast his silver eyes about before withdrawing his pilfered lightsaber. The scarlet-hued plasma hummed into existence as he touched the blade to Amit’s corpse, setting it alight. Once the fire had taken and burned strongly in brilliant red and orange hues, he removed the small phial of emerald liquid that the Sorcerer had given him only moments before. Tossing it into the flames, they suddenly rose in height and intensity – causing the Dark Prince to back away as an impenetrable wall of heat buffeted his frame. The oxidation process initiated rather quickly as the emerald liquid sped up the combustion and seemed to prolong it. He was forced to shield his gaze from the brilliant light emitting from the fire that ripped its way through all of the organic materials and he could almost swear he heard the high-pitched wailing of a voice – resonating with great force within his head as the cry echoed and seemed to slowly fade away. The entire body of Amit burned hotly in a sea of green, blue, and white flames. Oily tendrils of smoke curled up toward the ceiling of the hangar, carrying exudates in the form of incandescent solid particles right up into the air circulation systems, as if the tendrils of smoke were reaching up desperately in attempt to escape the blazing inferno below. Before long, the fire had nearly burned itself out, reducing the metallic portions of Amit’s body into nothing more than an unrecognizable pile of molten slag. It was right about this time that Iztara sauntered into the hangar bay appearing far too pleased with herself. As she approached their shuttle, she briefly paused to glance at him. He could not see her face, but he could feel her elation through the Force. It made him want to grumble. As he started toward her, she quickly ducked into the shuttle to retrieve the bowcaster. Within seconds, she ran back down the boarding ramp and began to shoot up the hangar bay, leaving scorch marks on the walls. The Dark Prince finally caught up to her and grabbed her at the elbow.“Sister, what did you do?” He asked accusingly, the tone he took with her carried an unspoken warning. As she whipped around to face him, he could feel it through the Force. The feigned act of innocence. It set his blood to boiling. If he knew he could get away with it, Rhaezion would take her and claim her right here against the outer hull of their shuttle. “Iztara…” His voice dropped a few octaves as he moved around behind her, his head resting aside hers, precisely where her ear would be had she not been wearing her helm. “Tell me sweet sister, what did you do?” Rhaezion inquires in a more pleasant voice than before, wondering if she would be more likely to respond if he attempted to be charming and gentle with her.Iztara took a deep breath as Rhaezion moved around behind her, questioning her once more as to what she had done. How he had known was puzzling to her, but then again some of his uncanny abilities with the Force were beyond even her. And even as he continued to question her, drawing himself up behind her so close, she felt compelled to tell him. Compelled because she felt herself responding to him and she had a feeling he was well aware of what he was doing to her. I had hoped that the lively frisson of fear and anxiety that Rhaezion had stirred into a jaunty parkour within my body would have been enough to keep these kinds of feelings at bay. Apparently, that was not the case. Her heart was beating like a pulsar star before it went dark. “No.” Iztara spoke firmly and went to pull away from her brother as she shut him out of her mind. Growling, Rhaezion's grip tightened just above her elbow as he reached around and snatched the bowcaster from her grip before dragging her along behind him as he stalked toward the main ziggurat.
Firing off several shots with the bowcaster along the way, Rhaezion entered the main hall once more dragging Iztara along behind him. She acquiesced and came to an abrupt stop as her brother released his hold on her and tossed the bowcaster to the side. It skittered across the floor, but neither twin paid it any mind. Approaching the pile of corpses he had assembled earlier, the Dark Prince draws his lightsaber once more and touches the tip of the scarlet plasma blade to the bodies. Dark wisps of smoke begin to trail up toward the high arches of the main ziggurat as flames licked at the robes of the Jedi alight before them, further illuminating the already dim hall. The Twins stood there reverently, side by side, as they watched their triumphs consumed by the fires of chaos itself. It was a silent protest as Iztara stood there ignoring her brother even as his gaze was drawn to her every so often. However, she still remained distant from him, both physically and within the Force. Escape to her was a duty, as if she were a prisoner of war, but out there she knew she would not find freedom.Your freedom will be the wars you wage.There was only the war…
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Darth Belial
Member
"The difference between gods and daemons largely depends upon where one is standing at the time."
Posts: 220
Affiliation: The One Sith
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Post by Darth Belial on Mar 6, 2016 11:44:02 GMT -8
Biting my tongue at Iztara's malcontent behaviour, I tore my gaze from her person to stare at the doorway that laid before me. There was little doubt in my mind, that aside from the shuffling gait of my newfound companions I was alone amidst the dead. My velum-hide lips curled into an insidious snarl as my gnarled fingers fell still atop the access panel. Memories stirred from the ashes of my ruined mind, slotting into my consciousness like a well-oiled machine sinking into a careless ruination. I was here once before when the Technophage had yet to emaciate my natural form. This room had belonged to someone of great importance, and I found myself drawn to the room like a moth to the flame. In the past, when I had foolishly been blinded by the pragmatic dogma of the Jedi Order, this chamber had belonged to the Master Swordsman, the Saviour of Coruscant, and the former Headmaster of the Temple we now stood within. Arcanus Sunstrider. Recognising how powerful that name had become, I couldn't help but crease my lips further with an insidious snarl. How foolish we all were back in the Dark Times, where the Galaxy burned with multiple fires of various warlord's ambition. We believed that with our sabers we could aggressively negotiate with the Sith and their lackeys. Turn them from their dark path, by showing them how powerful the light had become in their absence. I chuckled then, removing my palm from the mounted terminal. How wrong we were. Such deeds had only pushed us further into the darkness.
With the noise of grinding mechanical joints echoing off behind me, I pulled myself from the distant recollection and watched the door before me slid into its housing. Like Arcanus, I too was an infiltrator. When the One Sith fragmented after Darth Krayt's death, many had gone their way - proclaiming themselves Gods or the Sith'ari, unable to understand that their words only sullied the Sith name and, therefore, had led to their glorious fall from power. Thus began the purge, unknown to many outside the remaining few Sith Lord's left within the One Sith. We watched, we waited, and we struck when the time was right. Those capricious Sith Lords and their beloved factions vanished into the night. To be forgotten by the universe at large, and replaced by something more manageable. Then came the supposed Sith Emperor, and his little scheme. This was where my Master, blessed be his name and may be rot forever more in Arkania's heart, believed that the One Sith should become more direct in guiding such a splinter faction to its demise. Disagreements between Sith Lords were engineered by events that outweighed their station and control. The fires of ambition burned ever so brightly when those believed to be in power stood by and did nothing. How glorious it was when the in-fighting broke out. Dozens of creatures that considered themselves the Masters of the Darkside died in droves trampled under the feet of those they considered their allies.
I still remember the day that my Master watched these events transpire from afar. Oh, how he laughed. The One Sith did nothing more than whisper, and an entire empire crumbled in less than a day. While that moment in history would go unrecorded for what seemed like ages, it would linger in the minds of those that were there, and those that knew of the truth. With the Sith Empire dead, there was only one obstacle that stood in the way of my master's plans. The Jedi Master, Arcanus. I played to his hubris, and that road had led me to his confidence. He was known for having everyone under his mentorship die due to the machinations of lesser Sith. In proving that I was able to expunge the Sith that infested the lower levels of Coruscant, those pathetic servants of the Ronove Order, he had placed me under his tutelage - in thanks for doing what he could never bring himself to do. Something he had mentioned about being attached to one of the Sith Lords there, and how it conflicted with his desire to be free of such earthly bonds. Nevertheless, as I had manufactured my aura to sequester my sins deep within my heart, the Jedi had not suspected that it was I that had allowed my Master access to his mind - shaping him like the puppet he was. How delicious the irony was when we met again on Arkania. He didn't know who I was until I told him. The Lost One, he called me. HA!
Foolish.
I was never lost.
Breathing in the stale, recycled air of the chamber before me, I stepped into the former Headmaster's room and felt... nothing. No fondly recollected memories, nor did I see anything of the past unfold before my very eyes. That was strange. Especially since the memories from before were stirred only by pressing my palm against the terminal outside. Was that all my mind had deigned to bring forth? Nothing more than a loss recollection of events that brought us to the present? How curious. Perhaps at a later date when time was not of the essence, I may return to this benighted world and seek the answers to this perplexing question. Until then, there was nothing more I could do to broach the memories of the past. I had a job to do, and while the Twins were working on their tasks, being found in such a state should they complete their duties before me- was not something I wished to endure. Iztara would never let me hear the end of it. Though, I'm sure she would if I removed her tongue. That was neither here nor there. They had a lot of ground to cover, and I merely had to search the room that I now resided within. Such a task was beneath me, and thus simply beyond any comparison. However, as I glanced over the spartan collection of items, I began to wonder where this item could be.
The first place my venerable mind had wished to check was the dresser, upon which several personal items were placed. A dust-smeared photo of some red-headed woman with a longing look in her eyes, and a to-scale model of some Arkanian Starfighter that had possibly belonged to someone special. As my eyes glanced over the rest of the items that were arrayed before me, something stirred in the dark recesses of my mind. This wasn't simply a dresser to hold his clothes, but a ritualized alter to remind himself of his failures. Well then. This revelation had coloured my perception of the man, and not in any positive way. How could his companions not know of this shrine to his misdeeds? Especially since it was out in the open to any interested parties that may have entered his chamber. Perhaps they ignored or were unable to grasp how significant this was to the Jedi. Or, with this apparent confession to his sins, did that make him no longer one of the order? I couldn't tell, nor was it important. The man was dead, and his ashes were scattered to the stars.
Casually tossing such treasured relics aside, I began searching through the sealed drawers in the hopes that I would find what my Master had sought. After several minutes of tossing tattered robes and trifling rodents aside, my will to pilfer through the dresser had faded. Arcanus was smarter than that. He wouldn't place his most precious treasures in plain sight. No. No. No. They would be hidden in a place no-one would ever expect. Underneath his bed, mayhaps? Flicking my wrist, letting the motion roll through the tempestuous tides of the force, Arcanus' bed was thrown from its resting place and smashed against the wall to reveal... nothing but the floor with a smooth finish. Blast it all. Where could it be? The closet? Yes, perhaps it was there. Moving away from the upturned furniture, I turned towards the secreted armoire. It was there that I had found myself looking at the parted doors, wondering if this was where I would find what my Master sought, or if someone else had beaten me to the prize. Pulling apart the metallic frame with but a thought, I began my search, probing every portion of the surface with telekine hands.
It was there. I felt it, lingering just beyond the varied collection of weapons and trinkets. A sniper rifle that had been used in the making of my Master's form, a katana that had been forged in ages past, and then finally - an obsidian chest, marked with the silver filigree of some ancient order of knights. There it was, and how beautiful it is! Gingerly lifting the lavish container from its resting place, I placed it atop the dresser to admire its figure. Even the dust that marred the obsidian surface could not steal its beauty. So this was what my Master sought. A lovingly crafted box that held some meaning to the swordsman. Such an item caused my curiosity to be piqued. What was inside? Why was it so important that my Master claimed this trinket of his former nemesis? My fingers came to rest on the sides of the box's lid, eagerly wishing the two halves to part so I could see what was within. However, as I made the attempt, the two halves remained as one. I couldn't open it. What trickery was this? Even beyond the grave, that rat bastard confounds me with meaningless games. You're dead! Let me have what I am owed, let me sate the growing cesspool of knowledge! Try, and try as I might, the box would not budge. Apparently, my Master had known of this ploy and knew that I would seek to learn of the contents.
Now, who is the foolish one? I chided myself as I slipped the box into the folds of my thick robes. With the treasure obtained and my task complete, I exited the Chamber of Master Sunstrider and entered the corpse-strewn corridor - where my loyal subjects awaited my arrival. I smiled, as my eyes devoured their ever-changing forms. They had busied themselves with feasting upon the dead, and blood marred their silvered flesh. It took everything I had to contain a short chortle of laughter before I spoke. With the fires of amusement abating, I lifted my dominant hand towards the door - waving it too and fro.
"My children, cover our tracks and destroy everything in each chamber. Ensure that none know of what we took." My words drooled from my curled lips, confident in the knowledge that the lovely Iztara would've erased all traces of our deeds. "Then, once you have finished bringing ruination to these silent halls, meet me within the heart of the Ziggurat. We have a pyre to enjoy."
As I lowered my hand, and the dark robes had fallen into place, my Children eagerly set about clawing their way into every room and destroying all that lay within. This time, I had allowed myself to laugh. The sound echoed throughout the hall as the Technobeasts ran rampant, slaying every worthless trinket that they had come across. After several thunderous heartbeats had passed, I felt that it was finally time to join the Twins. They had to be finished their duties, especially now that I began to sense a foreboding sense of passion resonate through the Force. Iztara and Rhaezion knew better than to enjoy one another's company when there was a vital mission at hand. My smile soured once again, as the thought of them wasting their talents upon one another in such trifling ways. Who needed love and affection, when you had the power to bend and reshape reality to suit your desires? Pitiful failures. The Master will know, and it was unlikely he would encourage such behaviour.
With the tapping of my leather bound feet echoing through the corridor, I left my Children to carry out my will. They had not hesitated, and by the sounds of things, they enjoyed their duty. If only the Twins had relished their tasks as much as the Technobeasts, then we wouldn't clash as often, and they would become the perfect weapons. The Talons of the Sith. Yet, here we are. Sighing heavily, I stalked through the silent halls of the Jedi Temple and moved towards where I had felt the Twins gather. There they stood, before the ignited pyre of corpses - watching as the flames of their conquest began to scour the flesh of their victims clean.
"Iztara, Rhaezion," I called out as I reached the nearby staircase. "I take it you've finished your tasks." Of course, they did as I asked, but my words were said because I wished to fish out any deception - should they have eloped and forgotten. Without waiting for them to respond, I spoke once more. "I have what we came for, now let us depart this corrupted world. Leave the corpses to burn, and I shall command the Technobeasts to sacrifice themselves aboard our shuttle. We shall make our escape through the underworld, and do not fret about being silent. The Republic is dying as we speak and the focus shall not be upon us until long after we've left. Use the Bowcaster at your leisure, or your sabers. I care not."
With my commands given, I reached through the rolling currents of the force and issued my orders to the metallic creatures now making their appearance in the proverbial heart of the Temple. They would then proceed towards the hangar bay we had made our entrance within, and claw at the reactor of the shuttle - causing it to breach and thus atomize their forms in the resultant blast. Lowering my hand as I watched my Children valiantly charge towards their deaths, I let my feet guide me towards the Twins. Once within their presence, we began our escape from the Temple and Coruscant thereafter.
Everything was slowly falling into place, and soon the gates of Chaos themselves would swing wide, engulfing the Galaxy in aetheric flame - one that could never be extinguished.
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Aerandir Calmcacil
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Post by Aerandir Calmcacil on Jul 15, 2017 22:14:41 GMT -8
*The shuttle soared through the city, and the moment the Temple came into sight was the moment the entire unit steeled themselves. Fifty men and women, all skilled and properly armed, stood with twenty Jedi Knights, including two Masters: Aerandir himself, and Master Yleqos A'Kles. The latter, a Caamasi, had come out of a sense of duty; it was he who had given the evacuation order the day the Temple had been besieged. Of similar commitment was the Nelvaanian named Narvos, who served this Temple as a Brute, and had immediately volunteered for this mission.
It had been difficult for Aerandir to convince Michelle to stay behind; as much as he believed in her ability and skill, he did not intend to bring her up against a technically-unknown threat. She had attempted to argue that such situations were what a Jedi should be best prepared for, and he commended her thinking, but he had been adamant that she leave this to a more skilled unit. She had relented, if not begrudgingly, and Aerandir only felt more focused; with her present, he would have had to keep special attention to ensure her safety.
Finally, the ship lowered before the front steps of the rather worn-looking building; with no one present to tend to its upkeep, it was looking a little dirty and lifeless after all this time. As the troop bay door opened up, Aerandir stepped out upon the ramp, looking out over the edifice and extending his senses. There was only death there... and evil. A tainted force, akin to Sith magic. Not a single beacon of a living being could be felt within...
He at last turned, facing all those who would be fighting here.* "Here's how this works. Master A'Kles here will use an override code on the main entrance, and that will be our only point of entry. Once inside, he shuts the door behind us. Yes, we will be locked in there with whatever's waiting, but it's the only way to ensure it doesn't get out should we fail. Keep calm, don't panic. Shoot anything that moves; there are no survivors to be rescued here."
*The announcement seemed a surprise to many, even the Caamasi Master; albeit in his case, he seemed more stricken than surprised. Aerandir gave him a sympathetic frown, then turned as he waved them forward.* "Let's march." *And march they did, ascending the steps of the Jedi Temple towards the very entrance. He wondered if this many men would be enough... but the reports he received from Yleqos and from witnesses insinuated there wouldn't be a massive force here, unless they had some means of breeding.
He almost shuddered at the thought but he only scaled onward until they stood at the front of the historic building. Once a great monument, a bastion of peace and justice, now stood as little more than a cage. That fate would change as of this day.*
"Master A'Kles," *he requested.*
"Yes, Grand Master," *the Caamasi replied, stepping forward to interface with the security system.
Aerandir still wasn't used to that title, but he didn't have time to dwell. It took only a moment for the heavy doors to groan as they began to open; the sound was joined by a chorus of lightsaber blades and primed blaster rifles. The moment the opening allowed them to enter, they did swiftly, all eyes scanning the premises for any sign of movement. The air was repugnant; the stench alone was stifling, and many troopers were already donning air filters while the Jedi instead controlled their breathing.
Yleqos immediately resealed the entrance the moment every last soldier was inside, casting them into darkness illuminated only by the twenty lightsabers. This prompted the soldiers to switch on their weapons' lights, bathing the Temple interior in a ghostly glow, making things even more unsettling.*
"This area seems clear," *Aerandir announced.* "Let's go in deeper."
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Yleqos A'Kles
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Post by Yleqos A'Kles on Jul 16, 2017 21:51:33 GMT -8
*And so Yleqos A'Kles stood within the main entrance of the Jedi Temple of Coruscant once again, though this was no heroic homecoming. Instead, he stood with blue blade in hand, snout curling at the smell of death and decay that thrived in the stale air. The Caamasi were a diplomatic people, and Yleqos a Consular as a result; his way was defense and seeking ways to defuse a situation without violence. As such, his presence here was something of an anomaly to him, but this was more personal to him: He felt responsible for the fall of the Temple in the first place.
He would not feel redeemed until he had reclaimed it.
So similarly felt Narvos, the Nelvaanian Brute taking a forward position with the Grand Master. Narvos never wanted to leave and was almost set on fighting to the death, which he had found preferable to fleeing. Yleqos had managed to convince him otherwise, but Narvos had never let go of that regret. The Caamasi had visited with him often on Felucia, and, while Narvos rarely talked about it, there was always that underlying desire for things to have gone differently; he seemed uncomfortable with his part-time position as a cell guard.
But the Nelvaanian's eagerness and determination radiated more strongly than the stench of this place, proving his loyalty to preserving the Order, even if belated. Yleqos had to respect that, but he himself felt only empty in such dead halls. He nearly stepped on a corpse; kneeling down beside it, he carefully examined the body. Through the decay, he could tell it had been mangled, possibly dragged. Turning and holding his lightsaber about, he could see the dried smears of blood leading a trail to the sealed entrance.*
"I damned this person to death..." *he murmured shakily.
Then he turned and followed the party onward, knowing full well nothing could change this. It didn't reduce the sting, but he knew that things could have potentially been much worse had Yleqos not secured the facility. He would atone for any resulting sins this very day, however...*
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Aerandir Calmcacil
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Post by Aerandir Calmcacil on Jul 18, 2017 17:09:32 GMT -8
*The atmosphere was unsettling to say the least, but Aerandir led on, senses extending, seeking. It was the anticipation of the inevitable encounter that he could tell was getting under everyone's skin in varying degrees; even his own, he had to admit, considering he still didn't know what it was they'd be up against. But they pressed on through the grand halls, senses and scanners alert, preparing for the moment when—
An odd, mechanical cry rent the air as a figure burst onto the scene, lightsaber on hand. It had flailed its way straight towards the group, only to be rebuffed by one of the present Knights, who caught its blade and deflected it. This created enough of an opening for several of the troopers to open fire on the figure, the illumination from the blasts revealing its choice of attire: Tattered Jedi robes. Its twisted, mangled face was also cast in relief, though hard to completely make out as it staggered and shook with every blaster bolt. Quite unnaturally too; any typical being would have been felled by now.
The same Knight called for the troops to cease fire as it moved in to sever the creature in three pieces, each which clattered to the floor. Aerandir jogged forward, the scent of burned metal reaching his nostrils as he crouched down to examine the corpse. What he saw surprised him, for this being's organs had been seemingly converted into metal entirely; additionally, the lightsaber was no longer held in a hand, but melded into its arm.*
"This was meant to be a lost art," *he murmured to himself. He then quickly stood and announced,* "Technobeasts. An ancient Sith magic that transforms a being from organic to mechanical. The stakes just got higher; whatever you do, don't let them physically touch you."
*This only seemed to spike the troopers' unnerved states, and even set the Jedi a little on edge. Again, this included Aerandir, though he took solace in the knowledge that these beasts would still be trapped here should they be overwhelmed. He was also even more grateful he had adamantly kept Michelle away from this mission.*
"Get a message out to the Jedi so they know what we're dealing with, and what they might be dealing with if things go wrong," *he instructed, moving forward even as one of his fellow Jedi obliged. He could not be sure how many of these technobeasts were left, nor where they had come from. At the very least, Aerandir had not heard reports of any other such outbreaks; hopefully that meant, whoever unleashed these, their resources were dwindled, and that Yleqos's quick thinking had sealed their only specimens here.
Now they just had to survive, kill all that remained, and dispose of the corpses properly.*
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Yleqos A'Kles
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Post by Yleqos A'Kles on Jul 18, 2017 20:28:29 GMT -8
*Technobeasts?! Yleqos was taken aback by this revelation, he too surprised that the lost art had somehow been reclaimed. The Caamasi was suddenly even more alert than before, holding his lightsaber close as he surveyed the darkness. The party continued to scope out the Temple, along the way finding only a small handful of corpses. Mixed among them, however, were technobeast corpses, which were further dismembered as a precaution; they were not expected to possess intelligence, but, reluctantly, Yleqos agreed it was better this way, to ensure no surprise attacks.
He could not help but wonder how differently things would have gone had he and Narvos not escaped. Could they have survived? Could they have assembled some sort of defense and successfully pushed back the technobeasts? But what if they hadn't? What if someone came to investigate the sudden silence and were in turn ambushed?
Dwelling on the past was not something Jedi Masters were meant to indulge in, but the events were so sudden, so chaotic and traumatizing, Yleqos had difficulty not dwelling on what could have gone differently. He had stood in defense of this Temple countless times, but against known foes. He had stood his ground there, fought, seen comrades fall, and not once had he sighed and dwelt upon what could have been different. This was completely different—*
"Master A'Kles!"
*Narvos's cry made the Caamasi alert once more and his senses pulled him to his left, where a technobeast descended upon him. Yleqos brought up his blade to deflect the attack before thrusting his left hand forward to send the creature hurtling backward with a Force push. Just when he was both relieved at the warning and irritated with himself for proving his own point about dwelling on the past, sudden intense pain struck his left forearm. He cried out, even as he realized a large-jawed technobeast had sunk its jaws into his flesh.
The Nelvaanian was already upon the assailant, his green lightclub sinking into the creature's head, causing it to release the Caamasi, who fell to his knees in pain. As Narvos finished off the beast and other Jedi took care of the first, Yleqos could already feel the virus seeping into his veins, threatening to convert him into one of the metal zombies as well. He had only his own foolishness to blame for this; he dared say he deserved it.
But he would not succumb. He extended his left arm fully in front of him, raising his lightsaber in his right hand...*
"Master, wait!"
But Narvos's cry went ignored as the blue blade fell upon the Caamasi's upper forearm, just below the elbow. He cried out and shut his eyes tight as he dropped his now-extinguished lightsaber and cradled the smoldering stump against his torso, even as the rest of the arm fell to the ground with a thump.
Immediately kneeling beside him was Narvos, who put an arm around him for support* "Master, you... you..."
*Yleqos was breathing deeply, attempting to calm his spiked heart rate. The rest of the troops and Jedi formed a defensive perimeter around them, as the Caamasi did his best to meditate on the Force and seek comfort from it. His arm still screamed from the heat and sudden loss of contact with the rest of it, but he was at least more aware of himself and his surroundings now.*
"I-It was necessary," *he hissed.* "I refuse to let them take me."
*A medic had been signaled to examine him, and he complied as multiple blood tests and scans were taken. His quick-thinking had saved him: He was in the clear. They were only able to patch his wound with bandages and bacta, which was mildly uncomfortable, but far better off than he had been a moment before. So much so that, with a little focus, he was able to take his mind off of the pain and call his weapon back to him, swearing he was capable of finishing the task.
And so the party began moving again, albeit with Yleqos guarded by Narvos and another Jedi. He felt somewhat self-conscious of this protection, especially the fact that he was now essentially a liability, but he could at least take pride in the fact that, this time, he hadn't gone down without a fight...*
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Aerandir Calmcacil
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Post by Aerandir Calmcacil on Jul 20, 2017 16:51:35 GMT -8
*The surprise attack on Master A'Kles almost became what Aerandir feared would happen: One of his own turning and having to be put down. But fortunately, the Master reacted quickly enough to stop the problem. It was a gruesome price to pay though, and Aerandir winced at the loss of limb it entailed. But the Caamasi's determination was impressive and to be commended, although hopefully he was still able to operate at a decent capacity for his own sake; Aerandir was honestly surprised he was able to stand and have seemingly full cohesion with his arm now ending in a bacta-patched stump.
But he still managed to perform well enough as the group continued throughout the Temple, scouring its every room and level and corridor. They found more corpses than they had living technobeasts, and many of those corpses were also technobeasts. Seemed they had been sealed in here long enough and without sustenance that very few had survived. Good. They were still further dismembered to ensure they stayed down, an act that came with some regret; most of these were former Jedi comrades, after all. But there was little they could do; fully transformed and lobotomized by the virus, they were all beyond saving.
And so they continued their quest, hours and hours passing as they ensured no proverbial stone was left unturned. They counted the corpses, old and fresh alike; Master A'Kles was able to provide an accurate number of all those present at the Temple prior to the invasion, including himself and Narvos. They also marked on a datapad map the locations of each corpse as they went so they could retrieve them later.
With the group now on high alert—and Master A'Kles well-defended—the group managed to survive without further injury, with a corpse count just over what Master A'Kles had provided. Several of the Jedi expanded their senses throughout the facility, and each of them came up with the same feeling: That nothing else stirred within the Temple. To be absolutely certain of this, they again scoured the Temple top to bottom, more than once, until they came to the reasonable and safe conclusion:
The technobeasts were all eliminated.
This left one last step: Collect all the bodies and arrange for their disposal. This would have to be done carefully to ensure the virus died with the corpses. Fortunately, this particular strain did not seem to be airborne; not once did any of the scanners pick up foreign entities in the air. They would have to dispose of the bodies in the industrial district, smelted into oblivion. At the very least, this gruesome trip would come to an end, and the former Jedi could all rest in peace.
Following a brief excursion of Aerandir's to the High Council Spire, everyone regrouped at the main entrance, ready to arrange disposal of the bodies and take their leave. There was brief talk of how this began, to which Aerandir reported that all security readings had been corrupted as he learned. He had still collected the data, in hopes of passing it along to an investigative unit for some sort of clues and to follow up on who did this; after all, if an enemy had such resources, they were a potentially huge threat.*"I have... one more thing to say," *Aerandir began hesitantly, addressing the Jedi specifically.* "I learned something. Throughout the years, this Temple has been a beacon of the Jedi Order and indeed, of hope. But no longer. The Temple has been losing its importance and is in fact no longer the home of the Order; nor is Coruscant even the heart of the galaxy's free peoples. Coruscant will still stand, but no longer the shining jewel it once was. "Therefore we must leave this Temple behind entirely. We can certainly clean it up a bit, but I believe then after we should transfer it to the local government. We no longer have need of this place, for it would merely be one more burden to maintain when we need to remain as close together as possible. Purging it was a necessity, especially since it was technobeasts, but that has been taken care of, and now we have no more use for this place." *The message seemed to come as a surprise to the Jedi, especially Narvos and Master A'Kles, but they seemed to begrudgingly understand. Afterward, they agreed to unseal the Temple's lockdown so that they could at last prepare to dispose of the bodies and then leave behind the Temple. Master A'Kles, although wounded, was still capable of lifting the seal and the huge blast door slowly opened, exposing sunlight into the Temple once more. Cleansing, refreshing sunlight. He, the Jedi, and the troopers began to march forth from the entrance, calling for their ship to return so that they could begin cleanup operations.
And yet, something else seemed off...*
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Darth Malvus
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Post by Darth Malvus on Jul 20, 2017 17:53:35 GMT -8
Footsteps were heard in the rather eerie silence that surrounded the Jedi Temple, though the planet it sat upon never slept. These heavy footsteps, carrying a lone individual, crunched upon broken stairways, rubble and debris as they made their way up to the main landing where the Jedi and their troopers awaited their ship. The source came moments later as a tall individual, cloaked in black robes and hooded stood before his sworn and ancient foes. No movement was made, no sudden steps performed. Only silence that continued to exist.
A long second past as the hooded Malvus gazes up at the spires and ziggurat of the Jedi Temple, recalling a time when this place was ruins and another when it was replaced by a Sith pyramid. Now, it was a tomb, a quiet reminder of what the Jedi once were, just as a certain planet once stood as the symbol of the Sith. How the times changed, how the galaxy evolved and continued to turn, even as others tried to keep with the past. How many times, Malvus thought, had the Sith sought to claim or successful conquered Coruscant, only to become as blinded and decadent as the Jedi became.
His hood turns down, looking at the Jedi and their soldiers, standing before the gates of the Temple. A gust blows in, throwing the hood of the individual, to reveal Malvus before Aerandir, A'Kles and the rest of their knights. It was no surprise that many immediately grabbed hold of their lightsabers, even a few looks of impossible belief. Before them, Malvus stood as an extinct foe come alive, a red-skinned humanoid of the ancient Sith species. The small tentacles upon his chin were decorated with old ornaments of his species, twitching every so slightly to the specks of dust that peppered his face before the wind died down.
At last, Malvus spoke.
What an irony, wouldn't you agree, Master Aerandir?
His gloved hand gestures upward to the still standing, but abandoned and neglected remains of the Jedi Temple. Scarred by the Great Devourer, the Void in the Force, the Immortal Darkness, that Malvus once felt within the Force. A being, who has now since vanished, but left an impressive mark upon the very fabric of the Dark Side.
The Jedi Temple, the symbol of your Order... now a quiet tomb. What a fitting representation of your pathetic Knights.
The end of his words did not allow the silence to return as, yet, another gust of wind blows up, fiercer than before. A Wayfarer-class Medium Transport descends downward towards the Jedi Temple's entrance. Its loading bay opening just above the edge of the stairs. Soon, cloaked individuals and black-armored soldiers jumped out of the open hangar bay. It was quite evident who the new arrivals were, as they wore masks of the Sith Warrior. The dark armored soldiers wore no emblems, no signs of allegiance,
yet their blasters were pointed directly at Aerandir and his company.
Malvus whips off his cloak, grabbing forth, from his belt, two lightsabers, which flared to life with crimson plasma. More lightsabers ignited alongside his, flares of red plasma erecting forth from the hands of his warriors. A pause fell between the two companies, its background music composed of the humming of lightsabers. The gaze of Malvus, illuminated by the red lightsabers beside him, speaks lowly.
This galaxy... this very fabric of our existence... will once more know order. And that order will come through chaos and death, through war and division. And you, Jedi, will become relics through this conflict! You will know ruination! You will know darkness!! Nothing you do will redeem this galaxy!! Only the fires of war can cleanse these stars to bring forth a new order!
The Sith Lord points his saber forward, his Dark Side presence erupting forth, in a sudden moment. In that one moment, his presence felt like a great Rancor, seeking to devour its prey. He bellows loudly, an echo that crosses the very ground they stood upon.
KILL THE JEDI!!!
The Sith Warriors uttered loud cries in ancient Sith before charging at their Jedi foe. The company of Sith trooper followed moments later, firing the first shots of the clash between sworn and ancient foes. As the charge took place, Malvus propelled himself forward, seeking to clash immediately with Master Aerandir...
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Aerandir Calmcacil
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Post by Aerandir Calmcacil on Jul 20, 2017 22:31:19 GMT -8
*So that was what had felt off. An unknown figure approaching them, hooded and cloaked, before stopping in view of them. Something about the presence was familiar to Aerandir, and his subconscious raced to piece it together even as the figure's hood fell, revealing a Kissai underneath. This did not draw a warm welcome from most of the Jedi, who preemptively drew blades; in fashion, the troopers once more primed their weapons. Aerandir, however, lifted a hand for them to calm down—though not to let their guard down.
Appearances could be deceiving, it was true, although Aerandir didn't sense that any good would come from this encounter. A Kissai was an incredibly rare sight, and a strange omen indeed... However, the Jedi had intel on at least one other member of the Sith species. Still, seeing one in person was quite unbelievable.
And then he spoke. He addressed Aerandir directly, calling it "irony" that the "symbol" of the Jedi Order was now a "tomb," which was somehow a "fitting representation" of the Jedi Knights. Now, Aerandir knew conflict was inevitable, and, had he the time, he would have quipped that this being knew little of galactic events if he thought such an ancient relic still held any true value to the Order. But Aerandir didn't have the time, as a ship descended upon them; not their own, decidedly, but rather a Wayfarer transport that brought with it backup for the Sith.
For he truly was a Sith, judging by the emblems that they wore. And Aerandir's mist blue lightsaber came to life, held in a defensive stance before him; the rest of the Jedi also held defensive stances, the blasters of the troopers once more coming to life.
The Sith shed his robes and brought to life two crimson blades, babbling on about order—while being somewhat contradictory—and giving the usual spiel about how the Jedi would become extinct. It reminded him of that deranged lunatic "Soku Ren," and indeed, Aerandir idly wondered if this Sith was somehow involved with the Knights of Ren, or at least the First Order. But all Aerandir did was roll his eyes; normally this called for a quip, but he preferred a more subtle jab at that moment.
And then the Sith suddenly flared in the dark side, his presence seeming to serve both as morale-boosting for his men and demoralization for the Jedi. But Aerandir closed his eyes for less than a second as he called Ashla to him; it was a simple task, owed both to his diligence in meditation and the fact that the light still thrived in the edifice behind him. When he opened his eyes, he too became a fierce presence, a bright light in the Force, standing against the darkness that dared challenge them, putting his comrades back into a clear mind.
Then the battle cries of the enemy heralded the opening volley; many a blade danced to ensure the troopers were unharmed. The enemy charged forward, including the lead Sith, who seemed eager to engage Aerandir. Aerandir moved instantly, not wanting him anywhere near the Temple, yet he did not launch the first attack. Instead, he planted himself directly in the path of the Sith, blade once more coming up in a defensive position. Despite the seeming advantages one might imagine a dual-wielder might have, they created more weaknesses than they closed. Aerandir allowed Ashla to flow through him, and she showed him once more the shatterpoints he only began to see at Ossus. Admittedly, they were few, but they were still Aerandir's guide; getting to them was now the strategy.
The Jedi behind him had joined the charge, spreading out and moving forward to engage the enemy. Even Master A'Kles, despite his missing limb. Aerandir had to not think of him; Narvos would serve him well. The remaining troopers remained in tight formation, attempting to pick their shots when available, though mostly aiming for those behind the Sith.
Aerandir was yet again grateful Michelle stayed at home.*
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Darth Malvus
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Post by Darth Malvus on Jul 31, 2017 20:08:20 GMT -8
The moment their blades met, Malvus showed his raw strength as a Dark Lord of the Sith. Despite the defensive posture, the opposing Jedi Master was pushed back some feet, pushing only by keeping his blade up and against the right-handed lightsaber of Malvus. He raised his left to strike, but another Jedi ran up, stopping the blow. The Sith snarls, before kicking the intruder away, who was cut down by a passing Sith Warrior. Malvus did not like being interrupted by side-liners and this only infuriated him further as the Sith Lord renewed his attack upon Aerandir.
They were matched in speed and skill, something that Darth Malvus could tell as his blows were parried and glanced aside. The Dark Side boiled within him as his raw emotions fueled his rage. Around the two clashing masters, their warriors and soldiers fought with tenacity and skill. When the ranks of Sith and Jedi clashed, a number of Jedi would be cut down by the power of Sith Marauders, yet seeing as this was a select guard of the Jedi Master, Aerandir, the casualties were light. Yet the bodies piled up on both sides as lightsaber and blaster were thrown at each other. Jedi and Sith went down with plasma cuts or blaster marks, but they still fought on.
Malvus slammed blow after blow against Aerandir, before being forced to counter. He even managed to land a good punch to the Jedi Master's face in the hopes of gaining an advantage, yet the Jedi was skilled and gifted with the Force, able to turn around and counter his blow with ease. The rumors and facts about this Jedi Master were true, thought Malvus, as he continued to clash with his opponent. He had been right to follow this man and seek his death, or else the Sith would surely find themselves a tenacious foe.
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Aerandir Calmcacil
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Post by Aerandir Calmcacil on Aug 3, 2017 12:59:02 GMT -8
*It was a fierce battle that blemished the steps of the grand Temple, but in a strange way it was almost like a proper sendoff, a true symbol of the struggles that plagued the Jedi Temple throughout history and especially recently. It was only proper that they left the establishment behind this way: Defending it from the Sith one final time.
All the while, Aerandir felt... strangely calm. Focused. The Kissai before him was a powerful opponent, but his mist blue blade danced and answered every swipe of the enemy's blade. All around him, his fellow Jedi stood their ground to repel the invaders, some falling, others felling. The armed troops behind them were in top form, the harrowing experience of the technobeast purge out of their minds as a new, more standard foe drove them. While they had survived the treacherous Temple, a handful were unfortunately taken down by blasterfire, or a stray Sith blade, but not before they made their own marks on the enemy troopers and even a Sith fell victim to their formation.
Aerandir had done his best to cut into the Sith's defenses, but his shatterpoints were well-guarded. Not helped was the chaos of battle, requiring the Grand Master to occasionally deal with a stray bolt or an attempt at interference. The latter he was able to deflect only for another Jedi to draw them away from him; the former he attempted to use as an attack, but to no avail. He was at one point able to land a kick within the Kissai's defenses, but the Sith was too swift to allow him to capitalize. But all the while, Ashla calmed him, gave him focus, allowed him to stand his ground and continue to seek the way to victory.
It also made him realize why the figure was so familiar...
Overhead, a ship roared. He spared a glance to the skies to see that their Crix-class assault shuttle bearing down upon them, reading its targets before unleashing a salvo of cannonfire upon the Sith-aligned troopers in the back, not too close to damage one of their own, but enough to put a dent in their defenses and warn the enemy to stand down. It then came around, preparing to pick up their passengers; now all they had to do was break away and get to the ships.* "Troops, get on board!" *Aerandir cried out, blade still locked with the Sith. The Jedi would cover their escape before making their way on board themselves...*
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Darth Malvus
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Post by Darth Malvus on Aug 11, 2017 18:31:04 GMT -8
Explosions ruptured behind Malvus as a Crix-class assault shuttle came into view over the Jedi Temple. He sensed his Sith troopers disappear into fire and debris as cannonfire ripped through their lines. He snarls slightly, hearing the command of the Jedi Master Calmcacil ordering his soldiers to withdraw. He could not let this Jedi Master get away! Drawing upon the Dark Side of the Force, with great intensity, before extending his hand at one of the great stone pillars before the entrance of the Jedi Temple. Out of nowhere, the foundations of the pillar explode from contact with a Force Destruction ability, unleashed by Darth Malvus. Huge chunks of rubble rain down, cutting some of the retreating forces from the Crix-class. Slowly the pillar fell, further blocking the path of retreat for those stragglers.
The Sith then renewed their assault upon those who were now effectively cornered, cutting down Jedi Knight and soldier alike with a flurry of laser fire and lightsabers. Darth Malvus reveals an insidious grin towards his Jedi opponent as their blades locked once more.
Tell me Master Jedi... you have two choices, run and left them die or delay and seek to help.
Malvus renews his assault, moments later, ensuring that Aerandir had little to think about. He pressed his offensive skills into maximum, pressing hard against the Jedi's defense. Yet all the while, those cut off from escape were still be cutting down by their overwhelming foe. Yet as the offensive continued by the Sith Lord, an opening was left for Aerandir to choose; keep fighting or retreat. By now the Crix-class was certainly ready to depart with those who managed to get aboard while a handful still remained, cornered by the rubble caused by the Sith Lord.
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Yleqos A'Kles
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Post by Yleqos A'Kles on Aug 11, 2017 20:34:30 GMT -8
*At this point, after all that had transpired, Yleqos was amazed that he was still alive. Strange as it was to admit, losing a limb wasn't as debilitating as he would have thought it to be. He hadn't quite adjusted to the odd phantom limb sensation he felt as a result, and the charred stump was often agitated from movement despite being wrapped in a bacta patch—one that likely needed changing as well as actual medical attention—but thanks to his focus and meditations he was able to otherwise operate as normal.
But dueling with one arm was something that put the Caamasi at a distinct disadvantage. Truthfully, were he not remaining near the rear of the group, and had Narvos not dedicated his body as a shield for the injured Master's well-being, he would have certainly met his end by now. But it seemed the Force had reason for him to remain alive, even as his brethren fought—and some died—to preserve the final legacy of the Jedi Temple, as well as their own lives.
At last their ship arrived, spraying turbolaser fire upon the troopers of the Sith. It swooped around behind them, with Master Calmcacil giving the troops the orders to get on first. It seemed they would escape this intact after all, though Yleqos still couldn't help but feel as though he'd contributed nothing thanks to his injury. Not that it could be helped anymore, and no one had predicted a sudden ambush of Sith here in the Core of all places, especially Sith that didn't seem aligned with the First Order.
But then the lead Sith had attempted a devilish tactic: Crushing the base of one of the pillars in attempt to cut off their escape route. Instinctively reacting, he held up his hands—rather, his hand and elbow stump—and reached out with the Force to catch and slow the pillar's fall.* "Narvos!" *He hissed, drawing the Nelvaanian's attention. The Brute added his strength to the Master's, and together they were able to hold the pillar in place, ceasing its fall.* "Return... to sender," *he grunted, a maneuver he was certain wouldn't have worked were it not for those Jedi around him ensuring he and Narvos had room to work, shielding them from sabotage.
With combined yells, they tossed the pillar in the direction of the Sith company, away from the Jedi, ensuring their escape route was clear. Yleqos breathed heavily, the strain greater on him than his comrade; he'd already spent much of his focus simply keeping composed. Narvos recognized this and immediately escorted him towards the ship, an act Yleqos didn't argue with...*
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Aerandir Calmcacil
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Post by Aerandir Calmcacil on Aug 11, 2017 21:22:13 GMT -8
*Just when it seemed their escape had been guaranteed, the lead Sith had attempted to retaliate by cutting off their route and forcing a sadistic choice... But unfortunately for him, he had underestimated the Jedi's ability to react—an injured Jedi at that. As the would-be blockade was hurled towards the enemy, Aerandir deemed that significant distraction to get out of here.* "All aboard!" *he called out, then looked at the Sith.* "Except you guys. Probably shouldn't count us out too early like that again."
*By now, the majority of the Jedi forces had broken free from the engagement and ran for the ship, assisting themselves with the aid of the Force. Aerandir was no different, bringing up the rear, unable to resist a cocky grin before he turned to join them. In truth, the smile was only an attempt to get under the skin of their assailants, make them think that, despite the ambush and narrow escape, he thought little of them. Aerandir took the threat very seriously and would be delivering a thorough report to the Council upon his return to Coruscant. But old habits died hard, and he never could resist a chance to mock the incessantly-persistent enemy of the Jedi.*
"Go!" *he commed to the pilot even before he reached the shuttle, but he still leapt aboard safely before it began sweeping up and away from the Temple, cutting around behind the building for cover. Aerandir stared at the diminishing scene, the smile long gone. They still had work to do here, but it would wait until the Sith took their things and left. He knew now the familiarity he felt during the battle: The cryptic encounter upon Ilum. It was the Kissai, who had somehow predicted his movements to that icy rock and now, to here. This bore further investigation...
And further dedication to Ashla.*
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Aerandir Calmcacil
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Post by Aerandir Calmcacil on Sept 22, 2017 0:14:34 GMT -8
*The shuttle had not completely left just yet. They had waited some distance away, monitoring the situation both visually and through the Force. As soon as the Sith had regrouped and left, they waited several moments longer... and then they returned to the Temple. There were dead to attend to; not just Jedi, but the infected corpses within the Temple itself. It wasn't merely respect for their fallen comrades that brought them back, but a sense of duty, a need to eradicate the virus that remained so it could not be spread.
The ship kept low regardless, sweeping back around to the steps of the temple. Having anticipated the potential need for controlled disposal, the surviving, able-bodied Jedi and troops disembarked once more, armed with the necessary materials. The wounded remained aboard the shuttle... barring Yleqos A'Kles, who refused to sit idly by and insisted he could be of use. His abilities were put to use gathering up the Jedi and soldier dead on the front steps along with part of the group, while the rest of them went into the Temple to "contain" the technobeast corpses.
Said corpses were taken and piled at the base of the cargo ramp. The Jedi corpses were being gathered for one final funeral at the Temple, while the soldiers understandably preferred to send their fallen comrades "home." As soon as all bodies were sorted, the soldiers began to, in their own words, "bag and tag" their brethren, while the Jedi took their own deeper into the Temple.
They stood in the cremation chamber, those with hoods drawing them over their heads out of respect as the fires consumed the corporeal remnants of the Force's servants. Aerandir's own mind was left to thinking about this sudden reappearance of the Sith, as well as their apparent leader... The Kissai, a powerful force that he had faced with... more calm than he had expected. The meditations were clearly improving his connection to the Force and his own calm... which only meant he had to continue pursuing them until he reached his own zenith. This kind of ability was needed now more than ever, especially if the Jedi had two enemies to face...*
"Master Calmcacil," *Yleqos spoke, regarding him curiously as the light of the flames danced upon his fur.* "Forgive me, but, you seem rather calm, considering all that's happened today."
*Aerandir allowed himself a small smile as he replied,* "To be fair, you seem calm for someone who lost an arm."
*The Caamasi allowed himself the smallest of a genuine smile.* "Strange as it is to say, it's... not as bad as one might think. Getting used to it will be the hard part."
"We'll gladly hook you up with a prosthetic, should you want it."
*Yleqos hesitated.* "I'm... appreciative, but it seems there are more important things than I to worry about for now."
*Aerandir nodded.* "You're right. However, they've made the same mistake the First Order did: Showing their hand early. Even if it's a bluff, we're now prepared. And maybe it's no more than a distraction engineered by the First Order, but it won't make us any weaker. I have a job to do. We have a job to do... but there's something specific I've gotta take care of myself."
"May I ask what that is?"
*Aerandir's eyes watched the dancing flames.* "I must further enrich myself in Ashla's light."
*The Caamasi seemed to wish to ask for elaboration but after a moment appeared to be content with the answer. Before long, the group completed the procedure and returned above the surface, meeting with the troops and boarding the shuttle. From there, they took the bodies of the technobeasts to the industrial district, where they could be safely disposed of... and permanently. Molten metal was one of the few ways to ensure complete eradication of the bodies and the virus within, melting all of it into nothing, ensuring it wouldn't survive.
Once the procedure was complete, the shuttle at last made for orbit once more, leaving Coruscant—and its Temple—long behind.*
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Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh
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Is mimic a bhris beal duine a shron - often a person's mouth gets their nose broke
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Post by Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh on Sept 12, 2018 18:39:55 GMT -8
The woman walked quietly leading the child along at her right. And Boland walked vigilantly behind them. The Hound too strode at Maureen's left with The Raven soared high above eyes on all. An eerie quiet filled the air with a stale nothingness. Calm before the storm. Grace came to a sudden stop and turned facing the rest. She guided Maureen in front of her, turned the child toward her then let go
-Grace-
"Now we figure out what next."
Her eyes swept the group
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Rhiannon Danu
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Post by Rhiannon Danu on Sept 12, 2018 20:46:45 GMT -8
Rhiannon was an outsider. This she knew in her heart. Yet she also knew that the fate of all of them was at the same crossroad. And she knew that this nothingness was more than anything that she had done in decades. And with that knowledge in mind she spoke asking
-Rhiannon-
"What's next? What exactly do we gain by sitting here?"
Chin turning slight to the left she waited
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Post by Ciarán Dubh & Laoch Bán Dubh on Sept 12, 2018 20:55:24 GMT -8
Laoch was trying desperately to figure out which one of them he would shoot first. The kid was out. Boland was an idiot. Now Grace or Rhiannon..... Why not both? Scratching chin he pondered deeply. Fries and gravy taste good.... As Laoch's mind wandered between fast food and the brutal executing the two women Kieran took charge, right hand falling under Rhiannon's left bicep, his left under Grace's right he walked leading the women, followed by those around them out of the room. Laoch followed
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Post by Nicademus Delvardus IV on May 1, 2020 21:17:09 GMT -8
A ribbon was cut and the crowd applauded loudly in celebration. The ruins of the Jedi Temple, scorched by the terrible attack that brought the Republic down, was reborn before the very eyes of the Galactic City. The Emperor of the First Order, Nicademus, had been one to ensure gestures of posterity were made towards those who came before his Empire. On Bastion, a museum, dedicated to the Imperial history of many nations, was situated within Ravelin. Now, two similar ones had opened on Coruscant. The Senate Building, though still playing a necessary, albeit minor, role within the Empire, had an extensive museum, detailing the history of Coruscant. And now, at the Palace of the Jedi, the Imperial Preservation Society had opened up another, this one dedicated to the history of the Jedi Order, from its earliest known time to most recent of eras.
As the crowds entered the immense halls, something would immediately strike them. Just beyond the entrance was a collection of statues, molded in gold, and refined to depict several beings. A plaque before the statue stated its dedication.'In dedication to the Ancient Order of the Whills, the high beings that protect the galaxy, and the holy Shamans that defy even the most learned of persons' There were names below that statement, for the Whills names were known, thanks to the history that Jedi historians, mystics, and philosophers had left behind. Their great names were immortalized for all visiting to see and gaze upon. Certainly, they were the most holy and most divine of beings, outshine by the Celestials themselves! Now, all could know of their brilliance, their dedication, and their wonder. No one would ever forget them and their duty to the galaxy, to the people, and, most importantly, the Force. Unseen beings that were not always given gratitude, but then again, they never expected it.
At the very bottom, one inscription remained. One below the names of the Whills. A phrase that had been uttered by hundreds, thousands, if not millions before. Spoken by the young and the old, by the inexperienced and the veteran, by the wise, the strong, and the loyal. Uttered by millions of languages across the Eras, across the stars of the galaxy. A phrase that will never be forgotten.'May the Force be with you'
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