Chapter 61 — Only What You Take With You — Terror
Hell Hath No Fury….
“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH” her voice became real as the image of Yorna’s fanged mouth covered in her babies blood faded but didn’t die.
The mercury shards in her mind melted away as she instinctively began a calming Rite – around her Morgukai clashed with more Nova Corps, Jarys fist was rent out of Vectivus slouching body on the throne then opened up to hurl lighting at the Nova Corps who were now firing on him.
Jarys had spared Vectivus
head for one reason - to suck out quickly dying ebbs of his knowledge – he had disabled nine Aethans for 16 seconds with his Mirror Orb Weapon – a feat beyond what Jarys thought possible for a mere human – Jarys
would learn how he did it so it would
never happen again.
Melron thrashed against the Nova Corps trying to pin him down as he too awoke, the Jedi-Spawn Battlelord ignited its sabre and rushed toward Jarys
Sofa lay in a foetal position a Falleen hovering over her as she was chained –
One Sith down…one to goHands formed into painful fists as Kiraea’s rage exploded into a cloak of aetheric fire once more – as her legs pushed up the tendrils of blazing light pushed out striking the Nova Corps crouched between her and Sofa. Their blaster fire struck her incendiary halo, was eaten by it and converted into more flames in seamless aetheric energy absorption, which she hammered back into the malformed creatures, boiling and bubbling them into metal strewn blobs, sparking small explosions as their power cells blew.
The BattleLord rounded on Jarys as the Throne rooms tapestries and carpets began to burn with missed blaster shots. Stun grenades and neural disruptors burst through the air, scrape aside as she loped forward, trusting in her mate to deal with the others.
Through the battleline Kiraea scorched a trail of dead up and over Sofa to the Falleen.
Xithar deflected the initial blast but was not fast enough to avoid the shikkars that Kiraea had as her wingmen lodging into his chest – quickly he shot them back out telekinetically before Kiraea could work them deep into his body
The wounds were soon lost amidst thousands tiny punctures, green reptilian scale-skin covered in his own blood form the wyrms.
Lucovis hidden nearby smiled at how she had made her old form a living weapon that was energised further by the Nightmares of the Gods, each moment of panic and confusion from the dock workers, every fist Valens landed on Jo’Set’Macks all too human flesh, every feline scratch, the backwash of Sofa’s relived terror – oh that was a sweetened dish indeed Vectivus had done well with that one.
Two of the Nova corps moved to protect their master briefly slowing Kiraea by forcing her to slice them into useless chunks of mottled flesh.
Xithar ran as best he could weighed down still by the wyrms power.
He’s so close Lucovis thought gleefully
Just little more pain and fear and he’ll be ready….His own will have to do.Kiraea rounded the corner ablaze shifting through space as a neo-Goddess should, dismissing the rules of three dimensional space to reach the object of her hatred.
Xithar for the first time in many weeks raised his sabre. He was not a novice in combat, but preferred more elegant means of subduing those who would soon be slaves as Vectivus had just displayed.
He jabbed forth with his unique style of combat, barely drawing on any prowess to defend himself telekinetically, the movements slow and tepid compared to what Lucovis could achieve – and for that reason he had been chosen to be filled with the wyrms power, to be a living sacrifice to his Goddess…the Fear energies were on the precipice…they needed only another dollop of pain to be tipped over the edge.
Pain Kiraea was all too happy to provide.
In three swift movements she curled under his blade, grasped his hand and squeezed it into a single mass of bone, skin and metal with his sabre, the power cell exploding in a brief flare that ate the flesh away.
Defenceless, pure macabre artistry was exploded out upon Xithars flesh as the furious Demi-Goddess dug her fingers in-between ribs to pry them out one by one, pushed intestinal sacs into Xithars mouth with squelching pinkish fluids slathering the once green now increasingly white skin, his own digestive juices used to consume his eyes.
A Painting of blood and interstitial fluids that Lucovis marvelled to view…
“A masterpiece,” Lucovis whispered at the resplendent abhorrence of the scene – if only he had known such a vicious Goddess lived he would never have wasted such time on Milaea…truly this little Demi-Goddess would make a worthy addition to Her Pantheon with only the most minor of modifications.
“YES a little more!” Xithar squealed as Kiraea’s fist pushed straight up and into his intestines which she intended to feed in on themselves –a realized ouroboros fitting for his reptilian species. Blood mingled with faecal matter and stomach acids dripping down her arm as the masochistic Sith revelled in the uniqueness of the sensation.
Her other hand dug into puddles that had been eyes and wrenched his head backward the neck cracking.
Life was flooding out like the spurting fluid from his ruptured chest, yet this was necessary, needed –
desired.
Finally as his body began to convulse in death throes the Climax was reached as Lucovis screamed for sheer ecstasy.
<<<<>>>>
Terror
It was a cry that went beyond voice and sound - exploding into space time across the and through the core of Ord Mirit and out into the surrounding systems.
A vast hurricane of Force energy created from the bottled murder essence of thousands of Xithars victims over the decade’s topped with the Gods concentrated Nightmare essence resonated outward sweeping across every living create in a shuddering immaterial wave.
Neither shields, not durasteel could halt the ethereal power of it – bulkheads and doonium hulls penetrated as easily as if they were paper.
The terrifying distillation of pain and anguish had been weaponised, agony conducted like music with tools of delusion and paranoia, editing away any trace of hope that might have clung to the edge.
The Demigods who had recovered from the first attack met it full force – their minds already in a battle state and neurologically immune to what most sentients understood as ‘fear’, they were spared the perception and emotionally distorting effects of the wave. Such an indiscriminate weapon could not destroy them – but it could stun them.
Those who were still suffering the echoes of the Mirror Orb attack were not so resilient. Sofa’s flashbacks intensified, Selaena lost not only her voice but the memory of her husband’s face, Adaea’s fears were realized as the nightmare monsters got into her cell to grasp at her body. Melron stumbled back the dead lands overtaking his sight once more.
Kiraea jolted back from the attack and closed off her presence in self-defence, Jarys stuttered as he cleaved a Sithspawn in two, Maeson and Lyaea fell to their knees pressing out to null the aether to protect themselves.
Yet the attack while given true virulence
from them was not directed
at them – but at the millions of loaders, administrators, pilots and engineers across the planet.
Already struggling with the confusion and anger the cyberattack on the GSTIC and shut down of the cranes and space lane traffic had caused - now every heart and mind was pushed to the limit of sanity.
Many simply broke, turning in bawling inconsolable wrecks, or staring blankly into space in stunned silence – others tore at their own skin trying to purge the sense of terror that had no source, the empathetic anguish from their minds.
One and all they repaid the shock wave with interest – a flood of terror and mania backwashed into the vast storage vats on the
Hedonist.
Dozens of Wyrms in the creamy algal soup sucked in all the microorganisms they could along with the fear to begin artificially induced mitosis that increased their number exponentially. The entirety of the bloody toll was stored within the wyrms as pure force energies – Vitiate had once long ago destroyed all life to attain a measure of divinity on Nathema - Lucovis had devised more elegant solution.
With his Terror Bomb, the modification of a Thought Bomb carefully devised by Lucovis cognitive genius pouring over hundreds of Sith tomes in the Almas Fortress and innovation she could have her thralls and eat them too by stoking then harvesting their emotions in the wyrms through the force.
What was left of Xithar clawed away from the stumbling Demigoddess - his body already righting itself with meaty cracks and snaps as Lucovis emerged from the shadows to claim her prizes.
An indifferent flick of her wrist sent a burst of the energy flowing in to repair Xithars body, another shot to rebuilt Vectivus just before he died.
For this was not the end and Lucovis might yet need them - the galaxy was vast even for a Goddess.
Behind her the once Jedi Oma stalked along, her righteous fury turned to fanatical devotion for the Goddess of the Sublime and Profane eager to show her former comrades in the Jedi Order the depth of her devotion - the finishing strokes of Lucovis masterpiece of deceit and manipulation was to cripple the Jedi Order for good this very day.
Lucovis stepped out across the throne room toward the most damaged of the Demi-Gods, the curled up female reliving childhood abuses over and over…Her mind had enough of the Profane - she would be the first to be Blessed with Sublimity
<<<<>>>>
Wages of Horror
Her stomach twisted violently, Ze’Ne’Ma vomited all over the console, even Mi’ke turned white then green, then red as they all tried desperately to protect themselves from the wave that sought to unhinge their minds and turn them into fearful fleshy objects of pure paranoia.
Li herself gripped painfully on her chairs armrests as though she were on some strange emotional roller coaster that only ever plunged downward into an abyss of terror – falling forever.
For brief moments she felt it would last forever, that this sinking metaphysical death was her eternity.
But by the mercy of the Maker it ended and a sense of calm swelled even as the acidic scent of vomit rose.
“Kage…are you…” Mike began ever concerned only with her safety
“Zen – get us down there…” she said without any pause.
<<<<>>>>
Keison flopped to the ground as the stench of burnt flesh filled his nostrils once more…his own families flesh. The slavers were all around him once more, punishing the one he loved for defying them.
The Extolled looked around in utter confusion as their new brethren flopped and screamed uncontrollably, struck by some weapon they - by virtue of their biots or the blessing of the Yun’o - were immune to.
Recalling the mercy of the Avatar of Yun’Shuno that was called ‘Lyaea’ they did all they could to protect their freed brothers from themselves.
<<<<>>>>
The ship buckled as Tern lost control.
Soryu had no time, even as he tried to erect a wall of light to protect the Mando’a he had to keep them from crashing.
Tossing Tern out of the pilot’s seat he grasped the yoke and pulled up moments before they smashed into a wildly spinning tug.
The wave had two –
dyes was the best word Soryu could use – the first was familiar in its way, the deep rich almost primordial power of Milaea and Valens – but this was the bulky undertone, not the piercing intent of the wave.
The resolve that pushed it outward was that same sick oily dark that had been in the Cularian system – a darkness Soryu knew he could not face then and knew he could not face alone now.
But amidst the shadows his light shield cast he felt…
He was not alone.<<<<>>>>
Grunting out Yshrrk steadied himself as best he could as the flares and sparks of atmospheric entry seared the outer hull of the
Ardent Whatever that blast was they were heading to its epicentre…a course that seemed less and less wise with every passing moment.
Looking around he noted the Jedi Sentinels on board were already taking action to correct their course, a few of the stronger members attending to those less able to resist the attack who were now slumped or babbling in their chairs, Fear like a river pouring off them…
No not…simply leaching off them…being…sucked…what could possibly soak in such pure emotion through the Force…and why…<Maintain course> he grunted out, shaking the doubts the wave of terror tried to instil, it was time for the Jedi to reassert Order from this chaos – not in the mould of Oma’s violent assaults on petty criminals, but against whatever Force powered maniacs had detonated this…
Terror Bomb…. <<<<>>>>
Yoda
Yoda pressed against the tide of maddening desolation, a towering fortress of the light to surround his mind. The black waves of fear and paranoia a spluttering oil that sought any weakness in his resolve to exploit.
Had he suffered such an attack on Myrkr it would’ve succeeded…No more. His conviction even in the face of the horror of the situation and task he must accomplish was unyielding.
No longer was he pursuing a personal vendetta, no longer was he raging against his own failures – his intent was pure to end the darkness with the cleansing flame of Light.
As his eyes opened he saw the source of the wretchedness that spewed out across the planet.
Valens struggled to his feet, coated in a mental barrier that had the same taste as the detonation – the explosion reeked with the unmistakeable primeval connection to the Force his apprentice possessed….. Just as Lucovis had intended.
“This is not my doing!” Valens screamed as he dropped the insensate Jo.
Yoda’s features were etched hard in the shadow of his sabre, ignoring the lies Valens spewed forth in favour of what Yoda’s own sense told him about the genesis of the attack – it was just another act of horrific terrorism in a long line that stretched from Vyth, to Coruscant, to Myrkr, Lexrul, Nimban now Ord Mirit.
Justice guided Yoda’s hand as he swept forward.
<<<<>>>>
Kiraea
Kiraea pushed back up as Xithar writhed in bloody spurt of unnatural regrowth.
Twice felled her rage, her FIRE reached heights she had never imagined possible.
There would be no third time.
Like a thermal detonator she exploded in blue flame ready to incinerate the Sith filth once more – Valens might have wanted his mind but this second attack proved he was just too dangerous to leave even a single neuron active.
As she spun toward the convulsing regrowing form a Golden armoured figure carrying a half unclothed body caught her eye –
Sofa. As her gaze reached the face her aetheric fire spewing toward it Kiraea suddenly stopped her mind retched back to the Nightmare she had barely escape from a minute ago.
She knew every line of her face, her eyes and fuller lips, the visage she had seen every morning waking around the hearth, memories of the smell of their home filled her senses…
“Yorna?”
It was her, older features more refined but undoubtedly her sister…Yet the expression on the face she loved was alien…but still it was
YornaLucovis smiled. Before the dissonance and shock of seeing the artificially aged clone of her sister could dissolve Lucovis stepped deftly forward and backhanded Kiraea’s head into the floor.
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