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Author Topic: Fate of the Aether  (Read 10822 times)
Knight Commander

Force Alignment: 732
Posts: 2947

Avatar courtesy of For Tyeth

« Reply #225 on: March 11, 2019, 01:30:55 PM »

And this is exactly why Soryu is such a favorite: he embodies the TRUE ideals of the Jedi.  And Oma represents the categorical blindness that many Jedi embrace; oddly enough, this is what makes them susceptible to the Dark Side.  But Soryu's example is the redemption that the Order should use to right the proverbial ship.

Lucovis is a villain to be reckoned with: not only is he/she much more than the straw antagonist of so many books that I've read but his/her hedonism is what makes him/her so dangerous.  But also, a weakness to be exploited...and I think that Soryu just might be the one to do something about that...

The complexity of this still amazes me even now. 
This is SO true  Smiley

Next chapter please!

Sig courtesy of DarthScrub

Maenowan Nexu Master of the Vhal'Dan

My sabers:Zearic's Aldrnari, Archon v3 (modded w/ activation box) w/Obsidian, AS; Zearic's shoto, Initiate v5 w/Obsidian, AS; Graflex SE w/Obsidian, GB; Archon v3 (modded w/ activation box) w/Obsidian, CG; Dark Sentinel v4 w/Obsidian, BR; Sentinel LE v4 w/Obsidian, GB; Apprentice v4 w/Obsidian, AS; Sentinel LE v4 stunt, EG; Aeon LE v4 stunt, FO; Dominix v4 stunt, BR; Aeon v3 stunt, SY

Knight Commander

Force Alignment: 151
Posts: 1036

« Reply #226 on: March 11, 2019, 03:19:16 PM »

Chapter 57 — Road to Hell — Abandon All Hope


With rage inflated pride he had stormed off from his ‘victory’ in the Trial by Combat, straight to the RainSong where Four-Eight was waiting.

The hatch had barely sealed before he vomited all over the poor droid as his body just then recognised the darkness he had filled himself with as a poison to be purged.

Alone once more, defeated once more, reeking of acrid stomach acids and pungent half-digested meats he’d sat in his own refuse exhausted for at least an hour before struggling back up as Four-eight sprayed him with its cleaning jet.

Nowhere to go he had found himself on Rendas Station, if the arse end of the galaxy had its own special dumping ground that had been it – a brief moment of clarity between intoxicated beverages that failed to make him forget all he had lost had caused him to contact the Vhal’Dan.

Jo regretted it – All of it – he should never have gone to Vyth and seen the body, the catastrophe – let alone Sinkhole or Nimban. He had betrayed himself, maligned his family, disgraced his master, shamed his sisters memory – all this for nothing but an unspoken and self-inflicted Exile.

All hope lost he gripped his sabre and pressed the black and silver emitter to his temple, willing himself to find the strength to hit the activator switch. 

As if on cue the comm chimed as Jorl-Taf his Vhal ‘Dan handler’s ship came out of hyperspace.

With a grunt of disgust he threw the unlit hilt against the corridor wall.

There was no hope for him, no future, no family for a failed knight, a failed assassin….a failed brother, student, uncle, cousin, friend…

Jo finally realised he didn’t need hope any more – only hate.


Hollowed out hulls, long since stripped of anything of value by scavengers swayed listlessly in ever decaying orbits.  Pieces of wings, engines, decking, even the odd body floated in hollow silence, the forgotten remains of a largely forgotten war.

This was the scene between Ruusan and its three moons, the location of the secret Vhal’Dan facility where Jo would obtain the means to enact his hopeless hate.

Nine Times the Army of Light and Brotherhood of Darkness had clashed on Ruusan…finally Lord Kaan had devised his final gambit and destroyed himself along with the majority of the Jedi.  Kaan was either insane or as Jo preferred had simply lost all hope and obliterated himself rather than surrender taking his enemy with him.  Strange to think Jo empathized with a long dead Sith Lord.

This was a place without Hope, where Sith, Jedi, Sentients of all kinds had gone to die

Jorl’Taf provided co-ordinates to set down near the nexus of energy he could sense even from orbit, the Valley of the Jedi.

“That Mak’Tor is where you will find the power to defeat Valens and his ilk,”


Jo knew the stories, four centuries old now of men like Black Rikard Macias of the Vhal’Dan, Ga'Lan'Chillum and Slo’Ma’Mack, the great Gray warriors of the age, their tales purged out of the Jedi records as swiftly as the Mak’Tor had been expelled by Kimar.

As Jorl’Taf approached from his ship Jo idly wondered if the secret Vhal’Dan weapon wasn’t old Black Rikard himself pulled from the grave – or rather if the most obscure stories were true still alive for the Maker had damned him to wander eternally – who better to destroy the Abomination Valens than the Maker-Damned ruthless General?

Jorl’taf stood forgettable along the overgrown path outside the main ruins, Jo having to remind himself what he looked like so unbearably unmemorable was the Vhal’Dan agent’s visage.

Jo could already feel the strength of the Force here, forgotten songs broken off too soon had regrown like the flora long after the Thought Bombs nullifying waves had died.

“There…” Jol’Taf pointed inwards “The old shrines of the Valley of the Jedi retain much power, the energies of the Jedi lost against the Sith gathered and concentrated by the pilgrims who came after the war…” he paused gazing at the fallen statues a strange expression on his face that Jo could not quite read.

“With this power you can destroy Valens,”

Jo looked incredulous

“That’s it, I just walk into a shrine and get the power to defeat a monster like him? Why haven’t the Vhal’Dan taken this power for themselves before now?”

“All things come at a price – and till now no one has been willing to pay it…” the irritatingly average voice replied

“…the power is great, but flesh does not easily hold it – in the end it will destroy you,”

Jo’s fist tightened and he gave the wry smile of gallows humour, the first to crease his lips since…

Since Vyth.

“So long as it’s after I destroy Valens…I can live with that,”


Four Eight trailed along offering intermittent boops of concern as he strode along the memorial halls built in defiance of the Jedi Council to commemorate the Army of Light by Johun Othone. 

Jorl’Taf had remained behind, seemingly unwilling to risk being in the vicinity when…whatever happened.

The visages of the sculpted warriors looked down upon him with features worn by time and neglect, native plants had sprung up along the edge of the pavement, and vines had started to crawl up the chiselled legs.  They were reminders, bleak and degraded that in the end, there was no hope – only the silence of the tomb.

The sun was at its height as he approached the vast Adegan crystal in the empty centre of the memorial, upon a plinth of columns, surrounded by a once small garden that had since out grown its intended boundaries, encircled by ever more statues of Jedi sculpted from materials taken from their various home worlds, some creams, some glass, some garish blues, a piece of the homes they would never see again.

He could feel the power swirl within, it was a haunted thing, a thick mist of spirits that had long since lost all individuality to mingle into a miasma of common thoughts and feeling.

He wasn’t sure what exactly to do to take the power…he just stuck out his hand and pulled on the force. 

The energies stayed frustratingly locked in the crystal.

“Come on, give me what I need!” he pulled more strongly, instead of indifference now he felt a push back…it was resisting him.

“The Sith have returned! Stronger than Ever, if you don’t give me this there is no way I can stop them!”  He screamed at the impassive faces of stone, as if they might answer him.

“ARRGHH JUST GIVE ME WHAT I WANT!” He screamed with all his might the dust and dirt kicking up with the force of his voice.  The Energy of the crystal remained as impassive as the statues, mocking him with its lack of response.

He finally dropped to his knees feeling light headed from hurling all the air from his lungs like that.

He could not let this be for nothing…why wouldn’t they help him, couldn’t they understand!!

Anything, just anything to help against these Sith!

A thread, a thin black thread weaved its way through his mind, tugging, promising…offering.  He would get the power he needed one way or the other.

The thread lead him down rough cut paths for what seemed like hours into to a cavern beneath the main shrines, the roots and fungi here were twisted and distorted, they seemed to have too many jagged edges to be related to the other flora he had seen. 

Some grew up from discarded pieces of ancient armour and weaponry, old pauldrons, spears, the odd chest piece with dusty fragments around it.

The darkness was not just physical here…he was slowly sinking into it…this was not the power of the Valley of the Jedi calling him…but the Caverns of the Sith beneath.

Guided by his pocket light he proceeded to a small hollow where a shaft of the afternoon sun cut through to a deep blue pool bordered by pointed leafed plants.

He suddenly felt very thirsty, the water, dark and still, looked all too tempting…when was the last time he had drunk anything?

But he knew what this was…the Sith power was offering itself to him freely, quickly and easily…this was what he needed…a fast easy way to destroy Valens and Milaea before they could do any more damage…what better way than to use the ancient Sith’s power against the new. 

It offered itself with no conditions, it demanded no promises, no morality…just power.

He had come too far to stop now, stooping he drunk as deeply as he could.

The tide of darkness flowed into him like black tar, filling him from his feet up. 

Odjina spoke solemnly.  "…That you will strive always to maintain a personal devotion and relationship with the Maker to facilitate doing Right as the Maker revealed to us in his Way?"

"I will." He had lied in the cavern of his knighting ceremony

"That you will protect the innocent and defend the weak from those who would oppress them or unjustly use them?"

"I will." He had lied again as the water flooded and spilled into the room, the Kage and the others seemed oblivious to it

"That you will conduct yourself in all matters as befits a Knight of the Mak'Tor, drawing your sword only for just cause?"

"I will." He had lied a third time the water up to Odjinas eye, yet he seemed not to care.

Odjina looked at him with such pride.  "Then having sworn these solemn oaths, I Kage Od’Ji’Na’Ryloth, by right of law and in the name of the Knights of the Mak'Tor, dub you Knight..."

He vanished into the depths of the black water. 

All these vows he had now broken bar one.  He would protect the weak by becoming strong, the source of his strength, his true drive for vengeance didn’t’ matter…just the act of destroying the Sith.  Judge him by results not intentions.
He woke splayed out before the empty pool, his body soaked.  For some reason he recalled a line from an ancient poem he had once read with Ho’Li.
And therein lies
The soul’s greatest treason
To do the right thing
For the wrong reason.


He returned to the Rain Song half walking half shifting across the fabric of three dimensional space.

Jorl’Taf he barely noticed hovering beside him, his form an indistinct twisting dark gray silhouette rather than a precise form that was at once young, then old and rotten.

The whole of reality seemed malleable and unstable, the columns were both being built, standing strong and decaying into dust all at once throughout the shrine, plants grew, died, and stuttered in reality.

No - it was not that the world around him had changed – he had changed, no longer chained to the limitations of a four dimensional reality as he had been, time and space were there for him to twist to his will. 

This was the power of a God.

His neo-Omniscience pierced through the lightyears, across the vast emptiness of space and time to locate his prey…not where he was now…but where their lines would intersect.

The first he sought was the red blinking light of the girl Milaea…there in the Core it flashed in his eyes that looked straight past the ceiling, sky and moon…but it was diffuse, scattered – he followed the thread as it coalesced back into consciousness…left the battle it found itself in to…

He’s watching
Stop Him Watching!
He Wants to Hurt Her
We Won’t let Him

The voices were thoughts, and the thoughts were ideas that churned beneath reality, Three of them speaking at once - out of turn within and beyond yet within each other.

“What…Are You…” Jo’s voice was a shockwave that distorted the space across which he penetrated

He can hear US!
He shouldn’t be able to hear us!
What can we Do?
He’s so far away….

His teeth clenched as he pushed against the sickly sweet creatures that hid his prey
We could fight him!
No Outsmart him – HE thinks he’s clever by using this One – we give him what he thinks he wants
But can’t he hear us?
He can hear but he cannot Listen

They were elusive, like water, shifting about avoiding a confrontation in the Force, finally their pulsing red twisted away from his fluid Gray to reveal a thread…
She’s our Daughter, and she’s hurting…we have to protect her
But Our Son can beat this meanie!!

Valens…not where he was, annihilating countless innocents, but where he would be.

The voices retreated around Milaea seemingly sacrificing Valens rather than fight Jo…so be it…he would destroy the stronger first.

“Set Course for Ord Mirit,” Jo ordered the droid having completely forgotten about the eminently unmemorable Jorl’Taf and the events that had lead him to this world.

Four-eight dutifully began the calculations on his navigational circuits, but as Jo flexed his semi translucent hands revelling in his new power Four-Eight also send of a burst transmission on the family frequency. 



The ships pulled out at exit point 332-C in the tightly controlled Ord Mirit Shipping lanes where literally millions of vast cargo haulers the size of small cities wandered back and forth with groans like vast whales unloading then loading at the nerve centre of trade logistics for the Core, and the seat of Xithar’s empire.

“He will be here soon…” Jo spoke not through the comm but across the Force, the Gray Jedi could not survive holding the power he had taken for long, but it would be long enough for Vectivus plan to come to fruition. 

Here the Gods and Monsters, the Angel and Daemons would finally collide – Gray and Darkness would Shatter Oblivion, Oblivion would grind down the Light, the Light would scrape through with a handful of survivors, the Darkness only one –

And that one would be Vectivus himself.

By the end of the day Xithar would be dead, the strongest of the Jedi ravaged and broken, the demi-Gods slain by the concentrated power of Jedi, Sith and Gray.

“Oh Vectivus…..” the voice was not from the comm but all around him.

“Looks like you found a new friend…come to the Hedonist and we’ll discuss it…” his navigation system pinged with the location of Xithars flagship at the far edge of the system in what looked like a dead drift. 

The voice was Xithars…and yet somehow the power behind it was…not…

As troubled as he was Vectivus could not refuse his masters summons, ideally he would not be on Ord Mirit at all when the end came, but he needed to be sure Xithar was truly dead before the Mantle of Bane could be his.

“Jo’Set’Mack…I’m transmitting landing co-ordinates…I will be with you presently once I confer with some colleagues who have just arrived,” he commed across, Jo paying no attention, he could see the lines of the future himself and would find where Valens would be at his weakest of his own accord without the help of ‘Jorl’Taf’.


“You’ve been busy apprentice…” Xithar leered from his throne, the normally pristine purple marble awash with the stench of blood and sex. 

Everything Vectivus had anticipated had come to pass, Lucovis had finally drunk so deeply of his biological tendency toward hedonism that he had drowned.

“In your service master…as always”   

Xithar leaned forward fingers pressed,

“Master indeed…you’ve played the field well apprentice, all the little Porgs in a row…”

Despite himself Vectivus began to sweat in the pheromone rich air as behind the tapestries figures stirred – at first glance they seemed humanoid yet their proportions were wrong…Sithspawn…not just regular victims…these were once Jedi…
“Very observant…very clever…wise even…Vectivus the Wise…” Xithar was no longer speaking, another voice, rapid, clipped tones, infectious and melodic in his ears and mind, coming from all around.

“To twist all the plans I have laid out against me by placing just one extra piece on the board….twisting that poor sweet Angels mind just so…. much too subtlety and cunning for Xithar the Vigo…but not…”

The form of the speaker resolved itself behind Xithar in glittering Imperial Purple and velvet Golds ending all hope Vectivus had he had even the slightest ounce of control over the situation he had manipulated himself into….

“Lucovis the Goddess…”



Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Knight Commander

Force Alignment: 732
Posts: 2947

Avatar courtesy of For Tyeth

« Reply #227 on: March 12, 2019, 06:37:45 AM »

OK, I have to admit that this latest chapter was a favorite: to see the machinations of Vectivus, Lucovis, AND Jo'set all coming to fruition (and some towards failure) is an outstanding example of how no one can anticipate EVERY possibility...but the Gods seem to be able to look behind the curtain for some surreptitious planning  Wink

And Ruusan: if I had any say for a SW movie/trilogy or book set, it would be to expand this time of the Campaigns.  SO the next best thing: LSG's wonderful easter egg-laden history (and excellent diatribe  Grin).  Again: wonderful!

But with the two-fold thrust of Jo AND Lucovis coming for Valens and Mili is going to be


Sig courtesy of DarthScrub

Maenowan Nexu Master of the Vhal'Dan

My sabers:Zearic's Aldrnari, Archon v3 (modded w/ activation box) w/Obsidian, AS; Zearic's shoto, Initiate v5 w/Obsidian, AS; Graflex SE w/Obsidian, GB; Archon v3 (modded w/ activation box) w/Obsidian, CG; Dark Sentinel v4 w/Obsidian, BR; Sentinel LE v4 w/Obsidian, GB; Apprentice v4 w/Obsidian, AS; Sentinel LE v4 stunt, EG; Aeon LE v4 stunt, FO; Dominix v4 stunt, BR; Aeon v3 stunt, SY

Forumverse Loremaster
Master of Ceremonies
Knight Commander

Force Alignment: 854
Posts: 4119

Light side points please.

« Reply #228 on: March 12, 2019, 07:48:30 AM »

Totally agree with LSG.  This is wrapping up into an EPIC finale!  The final fight will be amazing and I suspect quite deadly. 

I am also curious about 4-8's second transmission.  It will be interesting to see how Li responds to his report...

signature picture by DarthScrub

Master Singer of the Mak'Tor

Knight Commander

Force Alignment: 151
Posts: 1036

« Reply #229 on: March 14, 2019, 02:49:13 PM »

Chapter 58 — Calm Before the Storm

Part 1


Elongated nails raked along the muscular flesh as red light bled from the ancient Candles illuminating the abyssal black of the Almas fortress.

Before her the being that was one a Jedi writhed not in pain but pleasure – for that was the gift of the Goddess of the Sublime and Profane – to make everything Pleasure…

Its flesh warped and cracked breaking into what was once a Temple Guards sabre, molecules splitting and melting into each other till what had been hands were now in built hilts for the energy blade, yet the creation cried out in joy form a mouth morphing around its white mask.

To create and fashion life from non-life was the purview of a true Goddess…

She had already achieved as much by creating Herself Willing herself into existence…Xithar, Sicara, the Clones, the Zealots of the First Night were merely the means with which Her Eternally existent Will had Realized here in this plane of existence 
The wretched bloody and convulsing forms before her soaked in the energy of the fear feeding wyrms that bit down on their limbs - raw energy for her to guide toward ascension on a more ecstatic plane. 

Above them the Ubese she did not need dripped blood and slivers of flesh to act as raw material for additional limbs and organs as Lucovis toyed with her alchemy creating strange new combinations of bodies from the former Jedi. 

Outside in the halls she could smell the sweetness of her throng of modified slaves enjoying themselves simmer through – neural paths ways twisted to experience even the most boring sensations – the touch of foot on ground, the brush of skin against a wall – as explosive pleasure.

She could feel their zealotry deeply - this place the Almas fortress had been where Darth Rivan perfected the creation of Sith Battle Lords centuries past – blood rituals to bind a Battle Lord to their troops – she had improved upon it, tying these once Jedi, Ubese and the few Mandalorians she had fanatically to her will…her Nova Corps would follow, but the changes would be less pronounced to ensure they maintained a good degree of creativity and independent thought in combat…and after them…the galaxy.

The first step to a more perfect galaxy – beings for whom everything was delight and all decisions clear in the services of their Goddess…what better gift to the galaxy could Lucovis give than love of Herself?

But alone she could not achieve such ends…her wyrms were growing few, her patience thin…the other Demi-gods…her body pulsed with unfulfilled desire to become one with them…to hold their power as her own – a Pantheon of one mind across a dozen bodies…

She spared a thought for Xithar, her mere hand puppet now censuring and preparing Vectivus for their arrival…

“Soon…so soon…” she stroked the face of her greatest creation to date…the one she had freed from strictures, exposed the pride and rage within and turned it to hr service.

The eyes of the body that had once been Oma’s flicked open dark and wet.



Home…home was where they all needed to be…

They couldn’t be separated from their Valley, plants, animals and Goddesses for long without becoming ill – Milaea’s distress proved this Kiraea had concluded.

The younger woman sat quietly with Sofa in the back of the Aethena, contemplating how to heal Kassyndra and Lydan as they headed to Station 4 with the Chiss escort and the Demagol, followed in turn by two frigates- abandoned by the Nova Corps on Milaea’s ‘suggestion’ full of the remaining Sons and the Yuuzhan Vong…cruiser was a close enough word for the shell shaped thing.

Kiraea didn’t mind them considering the People Avatars of their Gods - Clearly the Yuuzhan Vong were misguided abusing and ‘shaming’ their own people - perhaps the Yuuzhan Vong Gods had spoken to their Goddesses and asked for their help showing them their error, it wouldn’t surprise her if Aephrodaea was compassionate to the ‘Shamed ones’ even if they aren’t People, Aertemisaea would want to avoid a fight, and Aethenaea would welcome the opportunity to share knowledge with other Gods if they were polite.

Perhaps that was why the Outsiders were crazy, they travelled too far too often from their home worlds and Gods. Each people had its own Gods as was fitting, and should live with them on their own world satisfied with the natural rhythms they had evolved to be a part of. 

But they didn’t…

And so once they were done at the unnamed deep core system that housed Station 4 they would once more have to plan how to destroy the most acquisitive of those who stole what belonged to other Peoples Goddesses.



The swamps didn’t seem to end.  All gritty and dark green belching noxious yellow gases.  Such was the small moon on which Station 4 was located.  Around a Gas giant it had a relatively thin mantle and strong light sources from the systems Sun and the gas Giant, offering warmth and energy for the algae and bacteria to grow in the largely stagnant surface swamps and damp soils.

The Station itself was built on a rocky plateau surrounded by equally endless looking ‘swamp crops’ where microorganisms were bred under retractable shade systems to manage light input.  They were shipped back to Aethas to assist the terraforming of the blasted soils and sea floors, as well as the Ascendancy for their own Environmental management programs. 

Now it was to be a temporary home to the Sons of Kessel and Extolled…there wasn’t really anywhere else for them to go.  It was sad Adaea thought to not have a home, to be disconnected from your People and Gods…as she had been for so long after the Devastation.

“It’s not much…but it’s a start…” Kesion said behind her talking to Jarys and Maynard as they spread out – the Sons were used to living from bolt hole to bolt hole and quickly organised in another spacious hangar.

“Two frigates, 600 men…greater things have been done with less,” Keison tried to be upbeat…but there was no hiding the pink Gromin in the room – the Sons were crippled after Hondo station, and only hit Ando and survived Vulpter because of the People.

“They’ll head off in a few days…can’t risk any more bounty hunters following us straight to you…again…” he clapped Jarys shoulder,

“You need to focus on what little of your people are left…”

“They?” Adaea noted, “You’re not going too?”

“Huh…not with them…20 million on my head would draw unwanted attention, tempt too many of our contacts and supporters with turning us in…”

“Especially now that you’re on the way down…” Adaea finished for him “…Outsiders always seem to betray each other…”

It was very sad she thought, he was just trying to help free other people…even Debi seemed sad nuzzling her leg while her illusions skittered about. 

“I have an idea!” she said feeling the rush of thoughts upon her. She lifted Debi up and suggested telepathically the Gobril shut off its illusions, which it did.

A few Sons jumped up as the illusionary Gobrils they had been petting vanished.

“The Bounty hunters are after you…so what if they see you everywhere you’re not – I can make a few special Orbs that project you’re image…for a few months at least…enough time for you to go underground, split into Cells…it would be even more effective if you died…then they’d think you’re a ghost…”

Keison and the other Sons officers looked at her oddly for a moment as Jarys nodded,

“It’s a propaganda war as much as anything…” Maynard noted “Keison the 20 million sack of credits turns up on Nar Shadda in the Slave Markets…then a day later on Toydaria, the Wheel, Rorak IV…”

“The hunters would scramble…and the word we’re not defeated would spread.”

“Even more if you sent out another vid showing you with a dead Xithar….” Adaea added

“…if you come with us to Ord Mirit while Mumbles and Komo take over…”

“It’s Mmbri…” Mmbri corrected quietly

“Really?” Adaea was certain it was ‘Mumbles’…
<what is the Psadan’s name, Kiraea?> she asked teleptahticall
<Thought so!>
…Outsiders often confused themselves even to to point of forgetting their names.

Keison meanwhile slapped Jarys arm

“Six Hells…I like it…I swear brother…with ten of these girls…”



“I submit myself to your censure Mistress”

Captain Tsen had retreated from Vulpter in belief that he had failed – he had done no such thing but it served Lucovis to keep him believing he had.  Now he was on his knees before her, so far as the Black Sun was concerned Lucois was Xithars favoured Concubine and now co-Vigo.

She leaned down from her throne on the Hedonist resplendent in Purple and Gold her eyes gazing menacingly over the assembled captains – some once served Hondo, then Boos, others Jyx, a few were ring in’s from the disaster at Vulpter looking for work – mercenary and faithless as Goush and his ilk.

Every few moments they flicked nervous gazes up toward the twisted limbed guardians that flanked her throne – a beautiful little joke that none would savour but her – once the stoic Guardians of the Jedi Temple now they were the depraved lustful guards of her Religion.

“You have failed…but I am forgiving and generous…how many troops remain from your force?”

“Just over two thousand mistress,”
She glanced out of the view port to the assembled Armada, fortunately the Jedi’s Mando mercenaries had been so busy pursuing Goush they allowed Tsen’s forces to escape mostly intact, the main losses were ground side to the Demi Gods.  Her piercing senses detected 2,178 beings ready for initiation into her sacred Rites.

“Very well…” as she stood the assembled captains all genuflected even lower under the weight of her mere presence. 

“Your soldiers will begin landing near the Almas fortress where they will be…reequipped…in readiness for your next task…”

Tsen looked up confused

“Paaardoooon Myyyyy….”

Petty Mortals! she had spoken at her normal cadence rather than slowing her speech for the pathetic grubs before her to understand….the discomfort of need once again assailed her celestial being, a discomfort that would only be removed once she had the other Demi Gods here and ready for binding to her…

Rather than speak her orders once more she slammed the demands into their minds directly.

One Aqualish captain flopped down blood spewing from his eyeballs, a Twi’lek poured brain matter form his ears as the weight of a mere one level of her consciousness beat down on them.

“Weaklings…but soon you will be sublime…”



Exploring the Eversight was an…experience – she’d seen a lot of weird stuff in the Republic…but this was beyond…the vessel was biological, made of ‘yorik coral’. 

Most of Reeda Kwn explanations were lost in translation, the rest to the disgust Lyaea felt looking at how…integrated they got this the bio tech – nerve fibres piercing necks to connect with spinal cords, implants that replaced limbs…

Still she made sure to record it all on her link orb, it would be essential soon enough

“So how long till the main fleet arrives?” she asked scrunching her nose at the blobby ejections from the food dispenser equivalent – this was not suitable for People she decided.

“Difficult…dark space travel such as this ship entered twists time…it could be decades, millennia even…most likely a few centuries of this real time.”

“And even that’s assuming they survive the intergalactic void…” from Yhums information they had been sending probes for centuries of ‘real time’ but their attempt to contact them when the Eversight arrived was less than successful, only half a dozen still existed and those barely functional.

“So what will you do now?” she inquired, Lyaea appreciated their help, but didn’t want to be their Goddess full time, and was careful to let them choose their own path – they had escaped slavery once she would not put them under it again - the Chiss in particular were determined to study them but Lyaea had held them off, placating their  Liaison Syndic Corudo with the promise of a ‘Yorik-et’ and four corpses – even that had Corudo all but exploding with joy in his tight trousers on top of the Bio-weapons research on the Demagol.

“You’ve just paid our way with the Chiss for a thousand years,” Valens had praised her.

“We will try and contact the main fleet and explain the Revelations of the Gods…” Reeda went on, her expression - if Lya read correct - indicated she like Lyaea knew that wouldn’t be very successful 

“For now we need resources to feed the Ro'ik chuun m'arh”

“There are some swamps toward the southern pole of this moon we aren’t using that produce water and protein by products that might help…”

“Your generosity is appreciated Avatar,” 

There wasn’t much generosity to it, they needed to learn all they could about the Yuuzhan Vong, and would learn far more with their co-operation.

“You know I’m not a Complete Goddess right?”

Reeda nodded

“The Gods…are the Gods…but may…be seen more in one than another to our sight - if we open our eyes to see…”



She had been angry at them…all this time.

Why hadn’t they helped, why hadn’t they stopped the outsiders – didn’t they love them?

Aephrodaea’s Tears rushed before her – the weeping of the Goddess for her Children – yet why weep at all, why not keep her Children from harm in the first place?

…but then if the Goddesses could not be relied upon…why hadn’t Selaena protected her children from harm herself?

She couldn’t have…she wasn’t a Guardian, just a wife, a mother, a farmer, a tailor, sometimes a tanner and potter – why hadn’t the Guardians protected them?

They couldn’t have…they had never seen creatures the like of which attacked them that night, nor weapons, let alone machines…

And if they didn’t know, how could the Goddesses know…They were not all knowing, nor all powerful like other trumped up beings in the Sons claimed of their Gods raising the obvious contradiction – if your God is so powerful how is it you who belong to them are enslaved?

It didn’t make her suffering any less though…they still had power…but were the Outsiders Gods so much stronger? Or did they only favour certain People like Valens and Kiraea.  That wasn’t very fair, hadn’t she followed their guidance, always obeyed the Guardians, had two children, always taught them the proper ways? 
There was only one word that could partially contain her swirling thoughts


Her scream knocked the waterfalls flow to the side and trembled the rocky pools.

The reflection of a haggard hatefilled face in the water sheened rock shocked her.  Was this her now…was she so different – after all she had suffered how could she not be.

This the face of the merciless angry goddesses she wished to berate.

Yet there was the ficition – she was the Goddesses as all women were – to be angry to them was to be angry at herself, to disconnect from them was to be disconnected from herself.

The fatigue of too many years sagged her downward as the cathartic release of her scream left a void where there had been tension now filling with a renewed sense of calm.

If the Goddesses – if she was to be strong – she could not remain divided against herself, she could ba angry at them, at herself, but not for long enough to be a detriment…she still had her children- there were still Outsiders trying to hurt them…

And this time she could fight back.



She was till terribly fragile – despite blasting everyone full of red life energy a day ago.  Everyone had expected too much of Milaea, but worst of all she had expected too much of herself, trying to save the whole Galaxy from the People she loved was an impossible strain Sofa could partially understand.

The difference was Sofa was jaded and selfish enough to say ‘Screw the galaxy I’m out for me’.

Milaea wasn’t like that, she was better than all of them in that regard, she cared, regretted and internalised everything – especially the things she didn’t admit she was doing it for.

Despite what she said to herself, Milaea was still carrying the past, future, Republic, Aethans, Jedi…and now the Sons, Sith, Yuuzhan Vong and Black Sun on her conscience.

The Jedi thing was to ‘learn but let go’ of such things, accept the will of the force – the Aethan thing was to shrug it off as meaningless as it didn’t help their survival. Milaea was neither, the worst of both worlds.

“They’ll need a full rebuild…like I did with you…” Milaea broke Sofa’s thoughts looking over Kassyndra.

“Can you do it?” Sofa hoped healing them would help Milaea heal herself.


“You don’t have to do it straight away…take your time.”

“I’m not sure they – we – have time.” 

Already the others were preparing, rearming to take down Xithar.

Milaea looked up sadly at Sofa’s thoughts – she knew it had to be done and felt regret that she couldn’t do it herself, and didn’t want to – such was the twisted state Sofa’s poor little sister was in.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to go…” Sofa stepped over to offer a supportive arm, “You should stay here, got to this ‘Womb’ cave like Kiraea suggested…we’ll take care of the Sith.”

Milaea folded onto her breast nodding slightly – so old for such a young woman in that moment.

She held her for a long while until Kiraea tickled at their minds summoning them, there was no more time to delay.  Sofa squeezed her for a moment longer, Xithar had done too much damage, as un-Jedi like as it was, Sofa no longer cared, she, Milaea and the Clones Xithar had stolen what seemed a lifetime ago would be avenged on the Sith in the most cruel and vicious way she could imagine –

Setting her new People loose on him.



Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Knight Commander

Force Alignment: 151
Posts: 1036

« Reply #230 on: March 14, 2019, 02:51:54 PM »

Chapter 58 — Calm Before the Storm

Part 2


Leaning over her desk hands covering her nose and mouth she watched the horror on Vulpter unfold utterly impotent.

After the tower collapse on Lexrul she had sent a group of healers to assist, the little she could spare - with that resource occupied she couldn’t do anything about this.

Yet this wasn’t what really stung her, it was the figures in the few images that had gotten out.  

Hordes of mercenaries, bounty hunters and pirates massacred by a handful of Black soldiers, before a hideously bizarre flying thing disgorged mutilated warriors.

It stung because…

“Damn you Jo…you were right”

Ever since the Trial by Combat she had been on edge, snapping at anyone and anything.  All hope her cousin might see reason had been lost the day he turned to the darkness to beat her.  And yet for all this she still hoped he would come crawling back apologetic.

“Stubborn Macks…” she seethed as she swiped the pad too hard going forward three pages instead of one.

There was a war going on out there and they were on the sidelines – doing nothing was not an option, hiding on M’Tzigon was stalling.  Jo was doing the right things - for very wrong reasons – but he was doing something at least.

Lexrul, Nimban, Vyth, Coruscant, Vultper…there was no rhyme or reason to the destruction – it just seemed to follow these entities, they were the eyes of an unending hurricane- still and dark themselves as blood and bodies swirled around them.  She wondered if Vyth was even a conscious act on the murderer’s part, or was it simply their nature to bring death in their wake.

Regardless Li’s heart was heavy with the fatalistic certainty that one day they would be pulled into their destructive orbit once again – the only question was when and where.  

If she did nothing, stayed here, it would be M’Tzigon that suffered, they would come on their terms and she would be forced into reacting to events.

As Kage she couldn’t allow that – she needed to be proactive.

A sharp metal scomp link jabbed at her calf,


The droid jumped back on its stubbylegs.

4-12 whistled a low string of information

“4-8 contacted you – what did he say?” All the 4 series droids their family used had a secure peer network to keep in touch in emergencies

Another series of sad boops

“I know he’s in trouble but what is he doing in particular?”

4-12 whooped and tweeted another burst of binary in his usual somewhat verbose but overly fast fashion that made Li’s tapping reach desk shaking proportions.

“Ruusan…how in the Makers Grand Galaxy did he get to Ruusan? Vhal’Dan what? Not a real Vhal’Dan?”

She hadn’t spoken to arbiter Anson D’Aklay in a while, they were both dealing with their own issues, the last time they spoke Anson was ranting about some foundling girl Speaker Kazic had brought back from Yavin and his overly trusting nature endangering them all -ever since word of the Night of Madness had reached him something in Anson had changed – and not for the better.

The yellow central eye globe flicked from yellow to orange and occasionally blue as 4-12 jiggled about beeping and booping out a string of what others would find indecipherable binary.

“Slow down Ord Mirit? What’s on Ord…” she stopped herself…Valens and his ilk acted with no rhyme or reason, but Jo’s vengeance at least kept him focused on them like a laser.

And then…despite it all she still had hope left for Jo, even if he had none for himself…she had exiled him form M’Tzigon…but that didn’t stop her going to him…

She tapped her fingers on the desk, she’d already made up her mind before 4-8’s distress call…now at least she knew the Where of the next battle and had a chance to…maybe not apologise but…at least clear things a little with Jo.

“Mike…” she slapped the intercom, “Get the Honour Guard ready, we leave in two hours.”



They were all assembled, two days of preparation was all they allowed themselves.  The males were standing on the jutting rock over the river, the closest they were allowed to come to the sacred waterfalls.

She gently stirred the blackened mix with the aether as she approached.  This was total war against this Sith – he had stolen and mutilated their children, manipulated and offeneded one of their own, set mercenaries on them – and yes even their Friends.  

There could be no peace, no reparation, no cessation in their battle – once the fight started you fought till your opponent and everyone even tangenticlly allied to them was dead and their resources acquired and knowledge rent from their minds to enhance your own tribes power – such was the Peoples way.

In all of the males there was a tension, a complex build up of neurological, biological and cultural drives that meant they could not truly settle until the Tribe was once more safe from this threat – and EVERY other Tribe out there was reminded to keep their distance.  

Only Xithars blood on their hands would satisfy that urge – they needed to see him dead face to face to be certain, to crush his skull and tear out his organs - and for this they would need all the advantages they could get.  

In the heavy ceramic bowl, decorated with images of Aertemisaea was a ground body paint of charcoal, ochres, hematite and goethite as well as Blackstone itself.

One by one she dipped her hand into the rushing melt water to wet the granules then smear them across the men’s closed eyes leaving a darkened streak then worked around the head.  There weren’t any particular words to be said, the meaning was implicit, Aertemisaea would guide their vision to turn their enemies to ash just like that across their brow, Aethenaea would protect their minds within through the Blackstone infused paint that deflected the aether from without.

Their heads blackened and protected she reached down to collect the small bowl that contained drops of their mingled blood – dipping her finger in she marked each forehead with a Triquerta symbol – the aether infused blood would allow them to track each other’s position, Aephrodaea’s injunction to love and help each other.

The small ceremony over they clasped on their helmets as she went back to join the women, casting aside her chiton as she crossed the threshold to the falls proper.

“Again with the blood magic…” Sofa noted shaking her hand as the wound rapidly healed. Kiraea just shrugged,

“It works doesn’t it?”

Sofa couldn’t really argue.

The decorative pot contained a mix of red ochres, Bloodstone micro-flakes and their blood.  

Kiraea stepped toward Milaea off to her side and pulled her head to her breast kissing the top of her head before turning to the water falls.

“You better look after her while we’re gone!” Kiraea yelled to the Goddesses

“She’s very sad and needs your help, and I’ll be very angry if you don’t!”

Turning back to Milaea she stroked her hair,

“You stay here in the caves, I left enough food, you should visit Aephrodaea’s Womb…you’ll know what to do when you get there…” she kissed down on her again

“It will help my love…”

Slowly parting she went to the others clustered around the pot.

“Everyone get covered, all over…” she dipped her hands in to coat them with the war paint and began applying it, it worked more like cosmetic than decoration, the aetherically charged particles settling into the skin to provide a layer of protection – not a huge amount but the slightest edge can make all the difference.

It was cool and fluid, easily smearing across her stomach, breast, arms, legs, she reached forward with another blob finish Adaea’s back.

Once completely covered they paused in the chilled winds for it to dry and sink in before beginning to don their armour.

But before she zipped up her body suit Kiraea took out a small bunch of ribbons – those of her sister Yorna and aunt Karintha…if only they were here…how much they could use Karintha’s firm but even counsel, Yorna’s compassion….plus their fists, flames and lighting in the fight….

Tying the ribbons abour her arms she contened herself they would be with her in the aether, guidning her body and powers against their enemies.

Finally clasping on her helmet she turned to the others all now prepared, Selaena with daggers and sniper rifle, Lyaea and Adaea their swords and bows, Sofa her lightsabre and blaster pistols, across the ridge the men stood about the ships landing ramps, Maeson whirring up his repeater, Melron givinghis blade a final graze with the whetstone, Valens more quietly drawing the aether into him levitiating off the ground, and her mate Jarys punshing the air with aether strengthened fists and knees.

“Come on…let’s show this Sith the Power of the Goddesses…and the Vengence of the People”  



In the barely lit depths of the Almas fortress Xithars 752 Nova Corps and Tsens 2,178 elite soldiers were ushered in small groups into the Battle Lord Creation Chambers forged by Darth Rivan centuries earlier.  

Their guides into depths from which they would not return were eight former Temple Guards and a further nine former Sentinels who had heeded Oma’s Orders to congregate on the planet – these seventeen were all that had survived the Rebirth Lucovis has enforced upon them, the first of a new generation of SithSpawn Battle Lords.

In the darkness the Nova Corps could not see the gangly limbs and subcutaneous bony growths that came from metal and flesh melded torso’s. Each was a work of Lucovis Alchemical Art, unique and experimental, forged from a Jedi base with Ubese flesh and wyrm fear energy into more perfect warriors.  

The Nova Corps felt the wet and crunch under their boots as they wandered lower in a daze under the mental suppression of the Spawn Battlelords, the remnants of the Ubese and Mando’s turned to mere proteins to forge their new masters.

Each Battle Lord took a group of six to ten, placid and docile the stronger were placed on the altars, the weaker sliced open groin to neck to spew out raw physically materials for the reforging or hung on butchers hooks above the subject to provide fear and pain Force energies to fuel the metaphysical needs of the process.

With knowledge of Sith Alchemy implanted from Lucovis the once Jedi BattleLords remade the Nova Corps into ‘enhanced’ abominations of multiple sentient beings like they were, stronger, faster, patterned after their Divine patrons perfect form even if never achieving it.  Hour by hour more groups of dazzled Nov Corps entered, those that survived congregating in the long forgotten fortresses Barracks as for the first time in centuries the Almas fortress became a foundry for Sith warriors once more.

Red, black, green and yellow sloshed down the gutters carved for the very purpose, the deep impenetrable rock and pyramidal ceiling reflected force energies back into the forging rooms to avoid loss of any resources.  Bones and bodies of those that were not chosen collected in mangled piles as the starving Sithspawn ravenously ate their former comrades.

The Being that had once been Oma watched the self-perpetuating Sithspawn army grow, her body awash with the constant pulse of pleasure activation's – the gift of the Goddess of the Sublime as the work of the Profane went on about her splashing her remodelled extra jointed limbs with stomach acids and interstitial fluids.

In groups of fifty the SithSpawn knelt and drank from the bleeding cuts on their former Jedi’s arms, partaking of the BattleLord Binding Ritual – each of the Seventeen Jedi-Spawn BattleLords tied by Blood Magicks to their creations in the lightless depths as candles set by Rivans slaves centuries before burnt out as the hours passed rich with agonies and ecstasies.

It was a more perfect Army than the Jedi Oma Could dream of, integrated in the Force, unquestioningly loyal, yet each retaining individual sentience to ensure maximum creativity and adaptability in battle – there would be no morally troubled weak links, no mindless drones.

2,930 sentients entered the Almas fortress – two days later they were forged into 852 - assembling in what had been the fulcrum of Rivan’s fortress behind their seventeen BattleLords, armed and armoured awaiting their Goddess.

Oma paced loudly along the rune covered floor, etched with hard geometric patterns and small channels that flowed with the glistening fluids still seeping from the creation chambers.  

Bowing before her Goddess Oma took up the golden blade with glee – digging it deep into both her now even more muscular forearms.  Turning to the Battlelords Lucovis smiled as they took turns drinking Oma’s blood, the final step in the binding.  Oma would serve as the Overlord, all seventeen bound to her as the 852 were bound to them in squads of 50 – and every last one of them zealous for the Goddess of the Sublime and Profane to whom they owed their ascended state.

An Army of Angels Lucvois smiled as they rose in one graceful motion to begin re stationing on the Hedonist and Tsen’s other ships…behind them half a dozen altars curved to receive the prone forms of the Demi Gods awaited in chiselled black.

There she would place the Demi-gods her Angels captured, there she would lay beside them and become One God across many Bodies – the Pantheon of One…

“Apotheosis…” She crooned “…is merely my dominance away…”



Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Knight Commander

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Posts: 2947

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« Reply #231 on: March 15, 2019, 09:04:41 AM »

Wow...Lucovis seems to have a pulse on creating Lovecraftian horrors (or at the very least, Cronenberg-like  Wink).  I know that Oma had her faults but...that's some HARSH karma IMO, including all of the "fodder" to make the 852 um, flesh golams (?)  Terrifying...

BUT it looks like our resident Aethans are now the arrow to Lucovis' target.  And like the ancient Greek gods and titans of lore, the heavens, earth, and even Tartarus itself will be moved.  And one annoyingly persistent thought I can't shake: what is Mili going to do?

I have to admit: Li is a guilty favorite of mine.  Maybe it's because I feel sorry for her and Anson, maybe it's for her caustic relationship with Jo; regardless, she's a great character (made all the better by LSG fleshing her out  Smiley).  Let's see what she does to rectify this situation...

And all the while, things are coming to a head...

Awesome chapter LSG!  Now, thanks to you, I'm going to have "body-horror" nightmares for months  Cheesy

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Maenowan Nexu Master of the Vhal'Dan

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Light side points please.

« Reply #232 on: March 15, 2019, 05:15:45 AM »

I just want to echo Dutchman: Amazing chapter.  After the clash of action, we have the different groups pausing, regrouping, and preparing to re-engage.  Of the four parties I am also a little partial toward Li'I and the Mak'Tor she will bring.  First ... they're MY people (LOL) but largely because in all of this they're the closest to 'innocent bystanders' you're going to get.  I keep hoping that Li'I can turn Jo'Set back and rescue him ... but I am not overtly hopeful that will work out.

Meanwhile, the People go to war.  War to the Knife.   I pity Lucovis...

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« Reply #233 on: March 19, 2019, 02:37:11 PM »

Chapter 59 — Only What You Take With You — Chaos
Part 1

Erisaea’s Daughters
It was said that of the many children the Goddesses had, the youngest Eris was the naughtiest.  The story - which must be true as it was carved in the Bloodstone of the Caverns of Aephrodaea - told how after not being invited to a wedding because she might be naughty, she created a magical Kyala Fruit of Discord that she tossed onto the Goddesses table at the feast inscribed with the words ‘To the Fairest One’.

This of course created a competition over who was the fairest – the Goddesses asked Alixa to choose whom that was.  But Alixa understood that all three were just as strong and weak as the other, and it was in their unity that they were together the Fairest one and so she was given the name Alixaea as a reward.

But the Goddesses also rewarded Eris with the title Erisaea as she had reminded them that not all discord was bad, that a little chaos now and then could help renew and revitalize the Peoples unity – and from that day on the youngest child in a family was always allowed to be a little naughty.

Sitting in a circle in the hold of the Luck Gondur or the Yorna Lyaea, Adaea and Selaena began creating their own Kyala of Discord to throw at the ugly evil Xithar’s planet of Ord Mirit.


The information extracted from Aur Hondo’s palace had given them a plethora of details on his operations on Ord Mirit – the most likely place apart from the Demagol itself where he would hide away the remaining ten Clones – Milaea having mercifully ended the others.

Of course Xithar no doubt knew they were coming, they could not completely conceal any attack – any major attempt at distraction Xithar would instantly realize was the Peoples doing.

So they would double down with their Discord - create so much chaos and confusion, frustration and annoyance that the Aether overloaded with it denying any but the most refined aether users precision insight and at the same time make it impossible for him to escape Ord Mirit.

Adaea looked out from the trasnparisteel of Orbital control 22-GC on the countless ships coming and going from the logistics world, grey, cream, black, blinking yellow, blue or red lights on their bows ferrying food and minerals from agri-worlds and mines in the colonies and inner rim to Coruscant, and industrial worlds in the near core.  In return processed goods were shipped back out to the colonies, inner rim and beyond.

Before her half a dozen screens simmered blue with feed from the never ending scanning of barcode like symbols painted on sides of shipping containers – Orbital 22-GC was one of hundreds of monitoring stations overseeing the efficient operation of the Galactic Standard Transit Identification Coding (GSTIC) – the coding system that underlay galactic trade.  Behind her the regular staff slumbered contentedly as she slid in her thumb drive unleashing the Burrowing Gobril of Discord into the code.

Far Below her - around the vast Dawn Import/Export Facility - the cover of Xithars operations - a 625 square kilometre cluster of deep holes into underground storage and logistics warehouses peppered by vast landing pads, innumerable cranes and office buildings – Selaena flipped between the struts and trusses of the lumbering giants that lifted building sized cargo crates between hovering kilometre long haulers, slapping small blinking discs onto the central circuit spines.

And below her Lyaea shuffled along feeling out the ungainly outfit, trying to keep its hollow steps reasonably fluid as her blood red armoured figure strolled toward the Dawn Import/Export Facilities centre piece, a huge circular ferrocrete scar in the crust of Ord Mirit leading to the largest of the store houses 60 stories underground, an inverted skyscraped full of hundreds of small ships coming and going every minute following the guidance of the GSTIC that was slowly being chipped away as dozy counter slicers struggled to combat the synchronized hacking of Adaea, Valens and Sofa.

As the firewalls broke a short range hauler from Phaeda delivering a shipment of Ryza wheat registered a red light on the cargo scanner indicating the contents were Hapan Sept-Silks in contradiction to the forwarded manifest.  The dock workers at sub level 14 scratched their heads and scanned again…this time it said Chandrillian Posies – now the manager on a tight schedule and paid by the number of delivery clearances per hour came out in a fury.

As Adaea took out her thumb drive the Burrowing Gofun delved deeply in self-replicating cycles of code as the confusion across the planet rose – the entire GSTIC system was having its meta data partially randomized – the names of products attached to each code portion changed and shifted, delivery locations swapped.

Lyaea finally reached the small guard house as the first ships captains began to stare in concern at their rapidly changing delivery instructions. She craned down in stilted movements, the package in her torso limiting movement,

“Milaea here for Xithar,”

The bored guard checked a list and slapped a button to let her through, the rusted old gate jittering open.

Adaea felt the tide of confusion from seven million itinerant workers rise from the smaller to the larger shipping companies and the flow of traffic outside her viewport now ground to a halt telling her it was time to leave.

Selaena positioned herself after a final leap to get a view across the northern portion of the Dawn compound just in time to see the Red Armoured figure Lyaea controlled reach the main security building, a four storey bunker like blob amidst the less substantial office buildings and towers of shipping containers that sprayed a chipped painted rainbow of different brand logos.

Lyaea stepped inside the main doors, canny Nova Corps with an eye for the suspicious immediately knew something was up, her armour had odd gaps, her torso too thick and…blinking?

As those equipped with thermal imagers realised the Red armoured figure had no thermal life signs Lyaea was already relinquishing control of the gangly assemblage of quickly made armour plates with thin enchanted Blackstone strips to allow her to give it some semblances of humanoid animation. 

“Like thunder, gonna shake the ground, You held me down, but I got up, Get ready 'cause I've had enough, I see it all, I see it now” Lyaea sang along to the track playing on the Yorna as she swung by to pick up Adaea who flipped gently out of the platforms airlock – Catching Valens hand on the Yorna’s ramp Lyaea signalled her mother.

A flick of her eyes and double blink on the HUD set small blue bursts of EMP erupting across three dozen vast cranes, stuttered them to a halt – she could’ve collapsed them, but confusion and anger were a better cover for their plan than outright death.

The Nova Corps raised their weapons and personal shields as the red armoured figure flaked away to reveal a black, blinking device where the torso should be emanating a building electronic whirl.

“I got the eye of the Rancor, the fire, Dancing through the fire, 'Cause I am a champion….” Ada and Lya sang together as they linked into formation with Sofa in the Karintha whilst the Nova Corps leapt behind office partitions and doorways in a hopeless attempt to avoid…..

“…and you're gonna hear me ROAR”

A Sonic EMP designed for space warfare shoved into the false suit of armour detonated in the centre of Nova Corps above ground command facility with a shriek that shattered every piece of trasnparisteel across the northern side of the Dawn Import/Export Compound and disabled everything but the most densely insulated emergency electronics down seventeen floors into the below ground logistics facility.

The actual explosive blasted the front of the security hub and turned a third of the Nova Corps into floppy shreds of meat and bone mingled with old ferrocrete and dingy durasteel, adding an explosive climax to the crisis millions of others were feeling as the previously well-oiled GSTIC distribution machine ground to a screeching halt.

The Kyala of Discord had been thrown.



Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Knight Commander

Force Alignment: 151
Posts: 1036

« Reply #234 on: March 19, 2019, 02:38:31 PM »

Chapter 59 — Only What You Take With You — Chaos

Part 2


Firm fast feet moved through the twisting and turning corridors between the shipping containers, cargo haulers following the path the scouts had laid out to the main compound.

Keison always imagined, before every raid, battle, fight that this would be the last one – today he was correct – his small team of older Sons and a few terminally ill Extolled – with nerf flu of all things that they had no immunity to – wouldn’t last the day.  They were 14 to assault a Vigo’s hidden palace with untold numbers of Nova Corps waiting.

But it was not an empty loss.  Jarys and his kind had saved them at Hondo station, and as Vorynx squad had been his best force for nearly ten years before that, thousands owed their freedom to Jarys, Maeson and Selaena – to provide cover for their attack on Xithar, to make it appear a Sons attack on a Vigo not an attack on a Sith, served both their interests.

He glanced up to the sky amidst his half run, traffic was in chaos, stalled and eager to move, anti-Grav Advertising billboards across the sky lanes flicked and switched to their message – “The Sons are Coming”.

And so they were. 

Skidding around the corner he flicked his wrist to launch the first grenade into the security bunkers straight ahead – the blocky ferrocrete house exploded into a yellow and orange volcano of chunks.  Behind him the Extolled launched…something….forward to the main office building…the wall dissolved in burbling tar. 

The Nova Corps were already rushing to emergency stations, a plume of smoke and dust at the north side where the main bunker had just been blasted to pieces added to reports of fights breaking out in the sub levels between angry pilots on the clock and foremen demanding the shipments be checked visually contained by container.
The first fire fights quick and lethal as they took the confused guards with surprise and ferocity. 

They blitzed through the corridors and down the stair wells toward the ‘Palace’ levels – according to Hondo’s map sub levels 45-46.

Keison knew that he had little hope against a Sith, but that wasn’t his goal, extracting all the intelligence, credits and pleasure slaves they could was.

Spinning down a stair well to sub level 5 as grimy low paid workers rushed around confused he peered round to the main corridor checking corners – right into the barrel of a blaster.



Auto dampening optical tinting on Kiraea’s helmet compensated for the searing flash of the meltabombs that detonated in time with the other women’s chaotic attacks.

 The rock and ferrocrete foundations around the flash glowed, bubbled and spat, dribbling away in slurps of magma before congealing into spirals of blackened rock. Kiraea crawled through the rapidly cooling opening and into the facility proper.

Ord Mirit was a hive of old maintenance tunnel and abandoned underground store rooms, even with the schematics and their moderate sonar abilities it had taken her and Jarys hours to find the right place even with the schematics taken from Hondos palace, behind them dozens of walls and grates that weren’t on official blue prints now lay rent apart by their brute strength. 

The facilities passageways, sections and stair wells were bathed in the bloody light of warning lamps and the spinning emergency beacons that added a sickly amber urgency to the base’s interior. 

Their movements were swift, footfalls light and lost beneath the insistent wail of the klaxons the few Nova Corps unfortunate enough to find themselves in her path did not hear the breaking of necks, caving of skulls and slashing of throats that preceded her approach.

By the time the Nova Corps noticed the below ground breach amidst the rest of the chaos Kiraea and Jarys were already in the main generator room.

Swathed in dirty steam, thick cabling covered the decking like a carpet of serpents and draped from ports in the ceiling.  Thermo-crystal magma reactors boomed their super charged energy output, occasional arcs of lighting seared between them – silhouettes of grimy servants stood at their posts, one such leapt up surprised, turned to regard them but Jarys had shoved their face against the burning metal of a reactor vent before they could protest.

Moving like phantoms through the swirling clouds of oily steam, they ended the entirety of the staff working the generators building a murderous momentum between planting charges to blow this place to ashes once they knew for absolute certain Xithar and the last kidnapped clones were destroyed.

At the far end was the exit out of the plant levels into the ‘palace’ area, guarded by half a dozen Nova Corps, growing more and more nervous as the sounds of the workers vanished into hissing silence and slowly dying klaxons.

Kiraea primed behind a coppery circular capacitor was about to lure them out when a dart pierced one neck, he smacked it as one would a blood feeding insect, but dropped seconds later, then the one beside him…then another…

She spun round and blocked the cortosis staff with her gauntlet, Jarys across the corridor spun out of cover ready to strike

“Hold!” a voice echoed in the room over the cracking of the generators electrical static.



“Oh it’s you!” she sighed lowering her pistol from Keisons face, Melron covering her back – so far they had made rapid progress through the facility attacking on the opposite side as the Sons.

Behind her the corridor was filled with the last of the Nova Corps – they had all moved to intercept the Sons obvious attack while Sofa and Melron took them apart from behind – she had done her best to disable and KO’ rather than kill…but when she caught glimpses amidst stealing memories of the facilities layout of what they did to some of the slaves Xithar had given them as a ‘reward’ for service….well she was keeping the mouse droid employed sweeping up ashes at least….

“Many losses?” she asked

“Only three, any sight of the Brothers in chains?”

“Not yet…the guard’s thoughts put the harem is on sub-level forty, we’ll stay with you till you get there then hit Xithars throne room on fifty,”

A throne….

“Arrogant Pfassk…” Keison spat at the thought of the Vigo who thought himself a King then turned to his men,

“Alright our brethren are on level fifty remember protocol for extracting traumatised victims…if even a fifth of the rumours are true…we’ll need it.” 



A Morgukai warrior stepped out from the acrid smoke of the generator hands raised in peace.

“The Enemy of my Enemy,” Tok said carefully to the two otherwise very well concealed warriors.

“Is not my enemy today,” Kiraea finished hoping this was a wise choice.


Tok was not surprised to find the Dark Warriors here to destroy the Red Master, they had both been manipulated, and it was to one of them he owed his enlightenment of the deception that had lead to his son’s death.

He had taken the initiative as the chaos unfolded above ground to make his move – now he understood this was the Dark Ones distraction to themselves infiltrate. 

Their strategy was cunning, cluttering the Force, Comms and Palace with disaster, but true wisdom was shown in being willing to adapt to the flow of events and join against Xithar.

Past the Generators they slid easily into Toks strike force, the female taking point, the male with a ferocious…bestial…bearing enough to even give a seasoned Morgukai like Tok pause – unnervingly silent as their rear guard as they wove through the plant levels communicating by hand signal they following Toks planned route rather than their own.

Winding into an unremarkable door the woman stopped dead.



She revelled in the pool of confusion – watched with glee as the Demi-Gods drew themselves toward her so confident in their mastery of the Chaos endemic to them.

“Chaos my friend…” she leered stroking Vectivus greying hair as he sat upon Xithars throne
“,,,is a ladder for those with the insight to climb it…rung upon rungs of opportunity for a mind that can see which ones to take at which time…”

She could hear his hard swallow, feel the tremors of his beating human heart through her advanced vestibular system sensitive to the slightest vibrations…and yes she felt his fear as Chaos built with the collapse of his plans to destroy Her.

“Begin your preparations…” she whispered in his ear handing him back his Mirror Orb.

As she turned to one of the Jedi-Spawn BattleLords she wondered if Vectivus would attempt to add to the Chaos by turning the Mirror Orb on her, Xithar himself – but no – Vectivus was too cautious to play with chaos when he was in the midst of it.

“Always shooting from a distance apprentice…” Xithar admonished “…time to get your mind dirty.”

Lucovis stroked the cheek of the former Barabel Jedi Sentinel, a syntheses of hardened scales and metal even as its hands were now fusions of claw and sabre.   

“Make sure our guests get a warm reception…soften them before they reach my Throne that they more readily yield to my desires…” 

Each of her BattleLords Commanded fifty of the ‘Enhanced’ Nova Corps created at Alams Fortress…oh they would not stop the Demi-Gods strong as they were…but they were not meant to.

Her senses rising above the mists of confusion and frustration into the clean skies of the Force the first sharp points pierced through the mists of Chaos…

“The next Rungs have arrived…”



Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Knight Commander

Force Alignment: 151
Posts: 1036

« Reply #235 on: March 19, 2019, 02:42:01 PM »

Chapter 59 — Only What You Take With You — Chaos

Part 3


They pulled out into Chaos - the corporate efficiency of Ord Mirit’s lanes broken up and stalled. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Meeda glanced at Tern beside the Jedi Soryu – they’d just watched a Ubese destroyer and the Jedi Sentinels get turned into maker knew what and without Oma were unlikely to get any compensation payments for their recent losses – and Soryu didn’t exactly look like he had many credits to his name.

“He helped us get out of that hell hole, least we can do is drop him off here…”

“It’s already here…” Soryu said quietly


“The creature from the Cularian System…its here…” he tried to see through the growing tides of confusion that clouded the force…that too was intentional, a desire to mask an approach…something familiar about it…

“Then we need to get outta here, take a Meteor transport, but we’re not staying!” Meeda protested once more determined to get as far away from all this weirdness as possible

“They’re here too…Sofa…” Soryu went on staring out into the black at eldrtich things only Sorcerers like him can see.

“Who?” Meeda asked

“I need to warn them,” Soryu resolved, “they may be the only ones who can stop this.”

“Well great, you can go off save the galaxy, we’re going back to Ordo,”

“No you won’t” Soryu said quietly,

“You know better than that, if this enemy can defeat Jedi like Oma so easily how long before it finishes what the Dral’han began…you care more than you say Meeda Ordo, that is not a weakness but a strength,”

He turned to the younger woman

“You didn’t turn me into Oma because I stood with the Ubese you empathized with, I cannot repay that kindness, only offer you this, help me now and…I’ll make sure the Jedi Order makes good on its contract even without Oma,”


“What the…” Mike flicked his eyes from the scanner to the viewport and back again as Li felt the distortion in the Song – she might not be a singer but even she could tell something was massively wrong with – EVERYTHING – in this system.

“Kage…perhaps we should return to M’Tzigon until this…confusion…has abated?” Mike suggested, Li was seriously tempted to agree…but

“4-12 is 4-8 in system with Jo,” the droid tweeted positively with a trill that sounded like a winning streak on a slot machine

“I’m glad you’re excited,” The traffic was a clutter, it would take a while to get anywhere near the planet but she wouldn’t leave Jo in this mess.

“Mike…take us in…”


Chaos…Chaos was the only word for it.

“All Jedi Forces are to immediately gather on Ord Mirit…Repeat…All Jedi Forces…” Oma went on and on across ALL Jedi emergency Frequencies.

During Yshrrk’s convalesce Oma had taken the Order into realms beyond his wildest nightmares.

Hiring a Mandalorian Clan, attacking Uba IV then a Black Sun fleet at Vulpter… And worse still, Soryu and Yoda arrested for resisting her combative actions…

And now this.

Master Tnbu’s hologram stood beside him – currently en-route from Vulpter on the Mando’a ship Ordo Endures having cleaned up the disaster there as best he could before the panicked message from Meeda Ordro came to retreat back out of the Deep Core to Ord Mirit. 

“Vocal Analysis confirms it is…not Oma – unless she has sustained some kind of mutation to her vocal cords,” Tnbu confirmed Yshrrks suspicions that was not truly Oma.

It didn’t matter, someone wanted the Jedi here…they would get their wish and he would spring their trap.

A number of knights unaware of larger events had unfortunately already begun responding to the call before he could kill the transmission hub on Coruscant.  Now all communications were restricted to those that went through him personally – Order against the Chaos. 

Only one transmission apart from Tnbu was currently active …

<Stay where you are Master Yoda,> Yshrrk kept his voice low despite his fury as he donned his armour and grasped his sabre in raw hands not fully recovered from his battle with the Aetharian on Myrkr.  But Chaos did not wait…it had infected the Order too much already, he would not allow it to spread across the galaxy.
<I will arrive there shortly, Master Nagasa is also enroute with half the Dantooine Knights…we still have no word from Master Soryu but we are certain he did not arrive at the Prism>

Yoda nodded through the transmission broadcast from a Jedi supply station on Ord Mirit where his hijacked supply vessel had taken him.

“It cannot be a coincidence that the supply ship was bound here,” Tnbu noted “We are also getting reports of broad stream transmissions across the sector…’We Are Coming…’ the Sons of Kessel tagline…further points of connection to Valens and his warriors.”

“Right you are Master Tnbu,” Yoda agreed

“A confluence of fates on this world will occur…await you I…” he paused Ord Mirit was only one twenty minute jump away it could not have been interference

<Master?> Yshrrk queried concerned faux-Oma had arrived

“A great disturbance in the Force…Chaos unleashed, panic this we knew but….” As Yoda spoke Yshrrk began to feel the first waves of something else reach him the more sensitive Sentinels about him perking up, as more tides washed over him he felt the undercurrent, the sickening wrongness of the Force behind it…

A wrongness only Yshrrk and others who had clashed in the dark fires of battle against them could recognize.

<the Aetharians attack…>

Yoda could only nod grasping the hilt of the sabre he had quickly constructed from the supplies in the Jedi safe house on Ord Mirit. 

Valens and his kind had already devastated Coruscant and everything pointed to a repeat on Ord Mirit – the why Yoda no longer asked – his only concern was stopping the violent ‘How’.

“Move swiftly Yshrrk…no time to delay have we…already enacting some nefarious scheme Valens is”

The fog of Chaos had descended fully obscuring his ability to read the situation, yet as he listened to the constantly repeated summons of Oma. Yoda worried their arrival would only add to it with Violence…

Something was twisting and squirming beneath it all, oily dark that benefited from the chaos – Valens, Milaea, Jarys or another he could not tell.

Sighing, as Yoda stepped out of the small prefab to see the throngs of workers arguing over what was in what container he resolved himself to become the Order that tamed…and if necessary destroyed…the Chaos.



<What is this place…> gestured with rapid finger battlemark communication as they entered into what looked like a strange dungeon – a central corridor was flanked by dozens of small alcoves, bodies hanging from meat hooks in each, blood congealed and dried as they gushed pain in the aether. 

Beneath them a river of creamy syrup in which small larvae squeaked and squealed, leaping up into the rusted grates they walked on.

<Necromancy!> spat one of the equally disgusted Morgukai, the scene only adding to their cultural disdain for force users.

Jarys paused looking at one of the dozens of bodies, the echo of pain and fear reaching retch worthy levels the closer he sensed.

<They’re still alive…their emotions…feed these worms…>

Kiraea glanced to Tok who nodded slowly, there was no hope for these lost souls, even if their bodies could be restored their minds were cindered by unending pain and terror.

<Grant them the Mercy of the Wastes> the Morgukai ordered his brethren.  With cold compassion they swiped their cortosis staffs across throats and into chests as they went along – the wyrms beneath hissing in protest as their aetheric food source was destroyed.

<We should destroy those creatures as well,> he gestured toward the thick soap and screeching creatures beneath

<Few grenades> she replied <the explosives on the generators should….>

Her fingers stopped their dance as the door at the far end exploded open.


Everything was going well so far, the sky was stifled with traffic as the Adaea’s hacking spread its errors, screams of panic filled the air as Selaena’s own ion charges stopped the cranes from moving for precious minutes’ worth millions of credits.  The Nova Corps not killed in Lyaea’s detonation were flooding inside to pursue Keison and the Sons.

She leapt down the crates toward the next checkpoint where she would meet up with Maeson – Sofa and Melron were already winding down into the main facility as Jarys and Kiraea worked their way up from the under levels – between them four People – THREE Guardians and a former Jedi Master should be more than enough to destroy this ‘Sith’.

Selaena and Maeson meanwhile would secure their extraction route with Adaea and Lyaea.

Somewhere in between the two main groups Valens stalked about simply waiting – as the strongest he kept in reserve primed to pounce on the inventible unexpected difficulties the despicable Xithar threw at them. 

She leapt from edge to edge toward the compounds main ground thoroughfare as bewildered workers argued about what was in a shipping container below.

As she made her last flip to the ground she stopped dead in mid-air.


A hand grasped her throat.


The Enemy of My Enemy

Through the shattered door a dozen well-armed and armoured Nova Corps, emblazoned with Xithars Gold-Purple Black Sun star surged out in tight formations, moving cover to cover between the dungeons columns that dripped with slick humidity – ensure overlapping fields of fire and covering each other advance.

Such precision might be expected from a professional force, but even still that should not be a problem for half a dozen Mrogukai backed by two Aethans.

As the rear door burst open as well and they found themselves surrounded the snap hiss of blades from reptilian arms told them this was no ordinary assault force.  Around the Jedi like thing were a horde of twisted abominations – Lucovis failed experiments in alchemy unleashed.

The Enhanced Nova Corps unleashed their precise fire from the front while the Sith spawn charged from the rear – she threw up her telekinetic shield linking to to Jarys as the Morgukai deployed personal shields and batted away blasters bolts.

Advancing quicker than she expected Kiraea ducked under the horned arm thing of the Mon Cala and rammed her blade up into the bony chest of the Yinchorri dragging it up through to the throat, black acidic bile spilling out onto the deck and into the waters where the worms were going mad in joy.

The Sith Spawn were innumerable, twisted beyond recognition of their original species in most cases with bone carapaces, tentacles, dozens of eyes on one side of the face, gaping lupine maws gripping with red poisons, pustules that spewed gas like spores. 

The Morgukai were getting battered, their cortosis staffs gradually abandoned as too long to fight in the tight confines of the open cells between dripping victims on meat hooks, two of the beasts gripped one and dragged him into the increasingly red waters below the rotten grate where the wyrms consumed all three of them in moments.

The others doubled their efforts as if the wyrms feeding strengthened them as well…there was a link she didn’t understand – a link that needed to be cut.

Any pretence of stealth was now lost, the Morgukai slashed and bashed limbs and distended torso’s, Jarys shredded through monster after monster while intermittently taking shots at the Nova Corps - but they just kept coming. 

Every few seconds another one splashed into the vile pool, she kept low severing two legs the knees twisting to the side in sickening ways, the stumped creature toppling to the deck still flailing with its needle fingers before her rapid blade hit what she hoped were critical organs.

There were just too many…she opened her hands.


His mouth was full of blood, the moment he opened his jaw he knew half his teeth would spill out.

Tok grunted into the next twirl of his blades yellow pus spewing from the abominations bloated stomach, he paused his follow through as the Male Dark one smacked its head clean off with an indifferent fist – without their help they would be long since dead.

Bright blue lit from beneath him, he darted his eyes up unwilling to close them as he danced away from what appeared to have once been a Besalisk, now it had six arms and no legs, three slashed with bony outgrowths the rest held onto the durasteel column. 

The sick water beneath them began to boil into vile steam, as the woman turned to a beacon of blue white fire.

The screeches of the dying worms filled his ears, distracting enough to be struck in the shoulder by the mutant.

He punished it by grasping the bone sword and slicing it off, the creature scuttled away…but soon found itself caught in the blue flames that rose from the pool.

The woman was blazing…but…the Reptilian with sabre arms charged toward her, experienced eyes saw she was too focused on her pyro kinetic attack, the male dark one on demolishing the Nova Corps…

May the Winds of the Wannshock guide his blade.


Her teeth were gritted sweat coming too fast for her suit to cleanse as she poured annihilation upon the waters and the creatures, Nova Corps literally cooking in their fused armour as Jarys did what he could to keep them off her back – as her hand incinerated more and more of the spawn she saw JArys struggled to crush a Nova Corps skull in –

That should not be! Jarys was physically the strongest of them all, it shouldn’t take three strikes to shatter a skull – the pasty mess of flesh and metal that was once a Nova Corps head seemed…mingled…where metal ended and flesh began was uncertain

They are as much Sithspawn as the bersekers! The Chaos has folded back on…

A clash right next to her head broke her thoughts – she’d been so focused on her fire and the Nova Corps she hadn’t seen the Reptilian Jedi’s charge – its blade infused into its arm broke against the Morgukai leaders Cortosis staff.

Controlled fury in his steps Tok moved through a defensive flourish as the once-barabel roared and hammered at him with brutal force attacks, yet the Morguai endured, leathery face scratched and bloodied as if bombarded by a slate-storm on the Wannshcok, he had come here to avenge himself upon the Red Master, this creature would not deny him that.

As Kiraea stymied her flames to help the Barabel crashed its blades downward on the centre shaft – she feared the cortosis staff would shatter with Toks muscles under the strength – but he yielded to it, allowing his arms to flow down with the weight before releasing.

Like a robe in a dust tornado he spun as he released his staff, two blades from his tunic slashed divots into the twisted reptilians scales, kicking out into its legs then driving both blades into its chest through bone and leather to its hearts.

The creature chuckled and Toks face dropped for a moment – the Barabels face sloughed off next second under Kiraea’s aetherically flaming short sword.


The death of the BattleLord briefly broke the bonded Nova Corps concertation – only for three beats of their alchemically enhanced heats – that was all it took for Jarys to finish them.

Irritated at their fortitude he infused his blade with double the normal aetheric enchantment to break the creatures apart into steaming chunks that spewed bloods too rich in hormones.

Below them the soup of wyrms sizzled out and he the screeching died down, the last few Sith Spawn turned to dry husks flopped into the boiling liquid as Jarys checked his mate.

“You still good?” he patted her shoulders

“Fine…” she huffed then nodded in appreciation to Tok, two of his men were dead, one severely injured but still standing stoically – outsider they may be but any firm mooring in the storm was welcome.

She clapped her hand on the Morgukais shoulder.

“Lets kill this sleemo,”



Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Knight Commander

Force Alignment: 151
Posts: 1036

« Reply #236 on: March 19, 2019, 02:43:38 PM »

Chapter 59 — Only What You Take With You — Chaos

Part 4


“Khattazz al'Yun Yun-Qaah!” The Vong screeched as it ran through a Nova Corps with its amphistaff staring straight at Sofa deferentially.

She wasn’t overly comfortable with the notion of the Vong considering them deified avatars…but it was preferable to fighting them.

As the body slid down the wall she pulled her dagger – a late gift from Kiraea made of the ultradense Greysleet that actually felt solid in her incredibly strong Aethan hands from the chest of another, the ultrafine edge effortlessly penetrated durasteel backed by her newfound strength. 

Their rapid progress had hit a road block with these Nova Corps – there was something very wrong about them in the manner of the creature Uvex Milaea had encoutered.

“Aetheric genetic manipulation…” Melron explained pulling his fist from a skull coated in oozing metal flecked meat.

“Great…I wouldn’t want to go more than three days without fighting a twisted melange of meat and metal…” she said dryly 

Setting the cynicism aside she shoved her fist through the circular doors lock and wrenched it out ward, sensing no danger behind it. 

Keison and his forward unit rapidly moved in checking corners and keeping low.  The room was full of opulent erotic paintings, the floor less carpet than an unending red velvet mattress – this had to be the harem.

As Melron circled the edge of the room she stepped toward the centre.

“This is the Sons of Keseel, we’re here to get you out and put an end to your masters, you will not be harmed,” she exuded a sense of calm and safety as best she could as the confusion sloshed around her.

A pair of glassy eyes peeked from beneath a settee, the lavender skin and pointed ears of a Sephi.

Sofa quickly took of her helmet – at the very least a female face and voice should be less intimidating – and knelt down.

“It’s alright we’ll get you away from him,”

Her eyes had the defeated look she had seen too often in victims…too often in her own eyes.  The memory seemed all too real for a moment before she slid past it for the time being.

“…It’s not Him anymore…” she squeaked as Sofa grabbed a sheet to cover her

“It’s Her now!” the woman trembled at the thought of whoever ‘she’ was.

Much as Sofa might gain, this poor Sephi had been violated enough without being mentally delved.

“My friend will take you to the surface, are there anymore?” Sofa asked

She shook her head sadly

“She…took them…made them….” the azure eyes were frantic as if expecting her abuser to appear at any instant and tell her this was all a trick.

Sofa knew the feeling only too well – Sofa could never get revenge for what had happened to her…but she could punish Xithar and this woman for abusing the Sephi.

“Keison take her up, loot what you can on the way, you won’t be safe once the fighting with Xithar starts,”



“Where is HE” Jo seethed into the mask, annoyed at the encumbrance he smashed his fist into the hardened face plate fracturing the ultra-dense stone outer.

The woman beneath was choking but still able to breathe – for now.

“WHERE IS VALENS!” He knew he was here somewhere, his vision could not lie…yet in the bubbling tides of Confusion he remained elusive.

Selaena wouldn’t give the outsider the satisfaction of speaking words to his unworthy ears – she’d die rather than betray her own or obey an Outsider ever again.

Jo sensed her thoughts with utter precision as the Dark energies from Ruusan expanded his awareness beyond Mortal limits.

“Fine if you won’t speak…” he tightened his grip

“Scream….scream for your Master!”

Pressing into the hyper-keratin feeling the inhuman array of muscle and bone beneath surging pain through her body he sneered as she ineffectually defied him.

“DIE!” Jo heard the words 5 seconds before they were even thought let alone spoken

The black figure was preceded by a hail of yellow repeater fire that Jo indifferently dissolved into nothing, as the would be hero man reached melee range Jo used his off hand to smack him back into a shipping container leaving a massive dent.

“No…not HIM” He growled into the woman’s ear as Maeson flopped back into a moment of unconsciousness from the shock of the impact.


Tightening his grip she finally let out a muffled squeak…


Jo dropped the woman into the ground at the familiar voice

“You want Me!”  Valens yelled at the end of the stack of shipping containers striding forward blazing dark fury from his eyes.

“Come get me!”



The Force was screaming yet muddy with the haze of war.  Soon the Mak’Tor, Jedi, and Mandalorians would arrive in force to thicken the soup of disaster. 

The cataclysm of his master was perfectly planned…Xithar would’ve been destroyed – but it was not Xithar who now pressed Vectivus into obedience– it was Lucovis.

He trembled as he held the Orbuculum before him, the perfect mirror of it become slightly fogged with the falsity of the situation about him.  Despite himself he had to obey…

Better the right hand of Lucovis than to stand in her path…

 “It is not disgrace for a mortal to be felled by a God Vectivus…” the insane Sith creature whispered inside his head.

The wall opposite the throne was punched in by an invisible fist, behind it two of Milaea’s kind – the Towering Beast and the Lithe Assassin - and four Morgukai.

To the left the durasteel door was torn open and two more appeared, - the Carnal Jedi and the Weary Old Man.

All lured by the presence of Lucovis who now leered about his person and greeted them with a smile knowing full well the Chaos with which that they had brought would soon be magnified against them.

“Welcome my fellow Deities!”



Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

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Light side points please.

« Reply #237 on: March 19, 2019, 07:52:30 AM »

OMG...    Its the Battle of the Titans!   

Jo'Set..  *sigh*   I weep for you, brother.   You have become evil. 

LSG, this is shaping to be a massive finish.  I am stoked for the rest!  :-)  The chaos delivered.  Chaos embraced.  The false goddess seeking to elevate herself by absorbing more raw power....

Reminds me a little of Agent Smith in the Matrix finale....   :-)

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« Reply #238 on: March 20, 2019, 09:40:21 AM »

Now THIS is how you write an EPIC battle (rather: the beginnings of it  Wink)!

Lucovis' prescience is something that I have to wonder if it can give her/him that edge over the Aethans that she/he desires...and just how she/he will react with an unexpected variable like Jo'set channeling such incredible power. 

Speaking of: can Jo be redeemed?  Will he even want to do so?  Perhaps Li and the Mak'Tor will help to influence him...but which way?

Good to see Yshrrk back in action and with Yoda.  And seeing Soryu siding with the Aethans against Lucovis' body-horrors is one of the best scenes IMO.  I think that Soryu's interpretations of the Force are definitely what the Jedi need...but will no doubt still vacillate between embracing and ignoring.  Either way, I have to wonder where this will leave the Order. 

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Light side points please.

« Reply #239 on: March 20, 2019, 03:06:35 AM »

Now THIS is how you write an EPIC battle (rather: the beginnings of it  Wink)!

Lucovis' prescience is something that I have to wonder if it can give her/him that edge over the Aethans that she/he desires...and just how she/he will react with an unexpected variable like Jo'set channeling such incredible power. 

Speaking of: can Jo be redeemed?  Will he even want to do so?  Perhaps Li and the Mak'Tor will help to influence him...but which way?

Good to see Yshrrk back in action and with Yoda.  And seeing Soryu siding with the Aethans against Lucovis' body-horrors is one of the best scenes IMO.  I think that Soryu's interpretations of the Force are definitely what the Jedi need...but will no doubt still vacillate between embracing and ignoring.  Either way, I have to wonder where this will leave the Order. 

From where I'm sitting, I suspect the only redemption possible for Jo at this point is someone killing him before he does more damage.   I suspect he will die on Li's blade...

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Master Singer of the Mak'Tor

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