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Author Topic: Remnant of the Aether  (Read 47102 times)
Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #285 on: October 20, 2021, 09:41:21 PM »

Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Mother and Daughter — Part 4

Saani

“It’s strange,” Saani said as they crept through the cramped crate lined loading station where a mag train now sat idle, the conductors and guards sealed in the cabin while the alarms set off by the earlier explosion blared.

“Barely a few months ago I thought the war over, our position untenable, now...it seems only a matter of time before Anson capitulates.  Yet I’m afraid what will follow, the wounds are so deep I’m not sure they will ever fully heal,”

She vaulted atop three stacked shipping containers as Ari just ahead flipped onto a loading cranes arm, clearly using some kind of weight reduction ability as Saani was certain in her armour Ari weighed at least 300 kilo’s.

“Perhaps the Vhal’dan will need to separate, or perhaps there will only be one side left” Ari suggested without a hint in her tone of the gravity of such a statement.

“Perhaps…” Saani continued to follow as Ari landed on top of the subway train crawling seemingly on her fingers and toes to the cabin.

Reaching the top hatch, still cooling metal where it had been welded shut minutes before they arrived, Ari simply trailed her finger along the hatch, then without any seeming effort punched it once.

The durasteel cracked completely along shatterpoint lines, fragmenting into hundreds of pieces.  Barely had they fallen than Ari flipped inside.

Saani had barely reached the hatch when the screams from within were silenced and Ari flipped back out.

Saani glanced inside, of the six occupants only one was dead - the head torn from the body entirely and sitting in the middle of the floor as the others pressed as tightly to the walls as possible in terror.

“The only way forward is to eliminate those who won’t surrender,” Ari continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened

“Was that man one of them?”

“Yes,”

“How could you tell?” Saani asked, perturbed by the cold culling mentality.

Ari shrugged as if the answer was self-evident. 

Her daughter seemed to forget she could ‘see’ things in the Force that Saani could not - and had lost the youthful enthusiasm to explain that she once possessed..

They moved through the rest of the station swiftly, resistance was already dying down, but a handful of power pockets remained.  Where they could not simply slip in and eliminate the ‘obdurate ones’ as Ari termed them, her daughter would simply take them on directly, bashing back blaster bolts with her saber then lifting the entire floor, or bringing down half the ceiling.

The worst was one particularly strongly held position, two fixed guns at the end of a narrow corridor that led to the control room, the flat walls offered no cover, the low ceiling no chance of acrobatic avoidance.  the bolts hammered past them at the far end.

Indifferent to the intensity Ari crafted a sizzling glowing set of symbols in a complex hexagon before her, Saani had seen something similar in an old book on Force Witchcraft, without a word Ari spun round and hurled it down the corridor.  Neither the shields nor heavy Durasteel barricades could stop the Malacia curse hitting.  The cannons stopped firing, retching sounds followed.

Fearlessly Ari walked down the corridor, a flick of her wrist turning the cannon barrels upward and pulling the barricades to the side to reveal four guards, all their helmets were off, two had their trousers off, a third desperately trying to remove theirs. 

All were vomiting and soiling themselves profusely, eyes red or in the case of the sullustan a sickly yellow, pustules growing on their faces.

The Malacia attacks strength bordered on torturous.

“Are you coming?” Ari asked as Saani simply stared as one by one utter exhaustion and fluid loss caused them to pass out.

Saani caught up as the control room door with heavy bolt locks loomed before them.  Ari swiftly tore the numeric pad open and began slicing it while Saani stood watch, seeing in the twitching bodies just how far her daughter had gone down a path into knowledge and powers she could barely understand.

“Ari, when the war is over, what are you planning to do?”
“Do?”
“Are you planning to stay on Galtea, help with the rebuilding?”

Ari kept working away at the code cracking for a moment.

“I...don’t think so, my People, we’re trying to…”

“It’s alright,” Saani said, realising how leading and uncomfortable her question had been, forcing Ari to justify not staying was not fair. 

“I understand you have your own life now, your own responsibilities, as it should be…”

Saani smiled as she realised the tension in herself

“But I still worry about you, will always wish I could be the one guiding and protecting you, but I have to accept you’ve grown into your own person now,”

Ari paused from her hacking to take Saani’s hand
“I’ll always be your daughter, and always need you,” 

They squeezed hands, Saani feeling the incredible strength that far surpassed her own, and knew that Ari needed her support, not her protection.

The door chimed open revealing a cramped room full of screens, dials and consoles standing before the largest of which back lit by green holo’s was a single Givin, trembling but gripping a saber tightly.

The snap hiss ignited the azure blade as Ari stepped forward waving her hand.

“Put it away,”

The Givin shook it’s skeletal head

“I’ll never surr….”

The Koawan found himself absent, his saber hanging upside down in the air, ankles gripped by Ari.

“Don’t be a martyr needlesly Yolin’Gyl,” The Shadow creature said as he swung in her grip, his brain roiling as fluids flowed down into his head.

Saani was already on the Consoles, her slicer in the data dock transmitting schematics and defence plans, with this they would have full control over…

THUNK!

The Givin dropped to the floor as Ari spun around staring at a small security screen where a vast hulking form fought two figures indicating on the camera by blacked out pixels.

“Mother something is wrong,”

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

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."

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #286 on: October 20, 2021, 09:46:16 PM »

Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Mother and Daughter — Part 5

Ferocity

A red haze indicating critical damage spread across her somatosensory cortex.

Selaena ignored it as she pounded along the narrow corridor.

The clash against the giant Hamask had gone...poorly…

Her armor damaged from the acid and flames was all but wrecked now, her weapons broken by the glowering saber staff, and children barely able to stand as they fled.

At every intersection they found more Vhal’Dan guards, most behind fixed placed guns unleashing torrents for balster fire while the Hamask pursued relentlessly from behind.

Only their native physical speed kept them ahead, but it was patently clear they were being herded.

Backward blasts of lighting and kinetic balls did nothing more than irritate Sora as her legacy plate shrugged off the half hearted blasts.  The Lasats long leg and nanite prosthetic worked in painful tandem as she hacked at the enemies backs.

Lyaea was limping badly, left arm limp, Lydan was having to move backward as his back armour plating was ruined and three serious saber wounds forming a W on his flesh, Selaena had nasty open wounds where the nanite limbs had pierced her shoulder and abdomen.

That they had been fighting for days prior to this was a Obilio leaf of justification to hide the simpler truth - Sora was stronger and more ferocious than any one of them.

Sora gnashed and growled as she fired more shots into them as they now all but crawled down the narrow path under jutting pipes and support columns into the depths of the factory area, her guards held in reserve finally proving their worth ensuring every side corridor and vent they might try to turn into was secured or laced with traps.

She was driving them straight into the forges, taking another chunk of their armour with her saber staff every few meters.  She could barely fit in the repurposed maintenance corridors, the yellow white tips of her saberstaff endlessly slicing into the walls as she twirled it like an advancing drill.

The Aethans tried to hit back where they could, it did nothing more than gain them a few more steps on the path Sora was driving them, and where the corridors narrowed or were clogged with fixtures she made them pay for with more oblivion plate taken off and more wounds inflicted.

A dead end loomed ahead as the family of aethans ducked another solid beam blast from Sora’s armour mounted cannon.  The heavy rounded door with an archaic looking wheel handle loomed ahead, a thin slit at the top beaming an eeries orange glow.

Two guards positioned to the side hit the override and the door to the Rad-Coating chamber opened.

The heat slammed Selaena in the face in time with the horrendous realization she had only two options - Forward into the industrial crematorium or back into the saberstaff of the Hamask.

Sora made the choice for them, feeding on the endless itching pain of her cybernetic grafts she doubled her speed and forced them to rush forward even faster, tripping on the lip of the door way.

The family sprawled into the boiling forge, hissing and clanking combined with radiant heat off vats of molten metal to overwhelm their damage scored senses.

The guards sealed the door behind Sora as Lydan sought to use the environment to his advantage, burning his aether stamina to try and hurl blobs of melted durasteel or redirect injectors toward the hamask while his mother and sister looked for anywhere they could gain a height advantage.

The Lasat shouldered such paltry attacks aside and ran straight at the shepherd, they clashed again Naginata against saberstaff as Lyaea tried to swing under the grated metal floor to stab at the Lasats feet. 

Both found themselves easily countered, Lydan bashed to the ground once more, now his helmet compromised, Lyaea kept at bay by the nanite limbs, one sneaking into the weak point around her neck guard and stabbing in - the nanites anatomical targeting functions fortunately not tuned for Aethan biology sought in vain for arteries in a configuration most humanoids possessed, but settled for deep bleeding gashes before she could free herself.

Selaena leapt onto a swinging vat of metal, her legs sporting numerous cuts from the saber staff she tried to push the vat to tip on the Hamask, Sora too quick hurled her saber staff at her, she stumbled, Sora bounded at Lydan who over extended trying to take advantage of his briefly unarmed opponent.

Sora met him with crushing fury smashing his body with a half dozen servo powered blows before catching her returning saber, Lyaea straggled to reach her brother and took the blow intended for his neck in her back - the Oblivion armour took the brunt but the tip of the energy weapon still struck at her mid spine.

Selaena infuriated rushed forward swords spinning, bashing Sora’s nanite limb defences aside and planting the blades infused with aether energy into the Hamasks side…

It was the wrong side - they breached the outer plate but cut only into the nanite cybernetics that moulded around the blackstone intruder rendering it harmless.

Sora snapped round and grabbed the Aethan mothers head in her grip, squeezing with all the mechanical advantage the nanites could proffer cracking the helmet and Selaenas head inward, only that Aethan bone was so much stronger than humanoid average did her skull not collapse inward.

Lyaea sprinted to help, Sora slammed the Aethan down her boot crushing into Selena's breast as the younger woman launched at her, desperate Lyaea extended a Null field around her.

It only left her more exposed.  The loss of the Force was an irrelevance for Sora, her cybernetics and rage were physical advantages that would not be denied, though her reflexes slowed the ethans injuries meant their usual advantage was lost, the Saber staff easily countered then slammed the comparatively frail Aethan across the factory floor.

Hamask surveyed the so called Oblivion Monsters battered and broken, their faces partially visible beneath dented helmets showed such plain human-like features, the two women might be clones but for the red hair of one and white of the other.

If these had caused the Vhal’Dan suffering it was clearly, in Sora’s opinion, because the Vhal’Dan were weak, indolent, fearful of the darker urgings to indulge grief and hate that gave Sora the strength to endure the pain of the cybernetics and turn it against her foes.

Once more the Hamask Philosophy of war was proven effective.

Her saber staff humming even above the bubbling rumble of magam metal and creak of moulds breaking fresh power cell casings free she fired indifferent shots with her arm mounted cannon to keep the further two down while dragging up the one under her boot and bodily hauling Selaena over the edge face to face with the orange glare of durasteel made liquid.

The Kage had instructed her personally to - if possible - take one of each gender of the Monsters alive - but not necessarily intact given the danger attendant with transporting them.. 

That left his one to satiate her blood lust with fully.

<<<<>>>>

The whole infiltration had been upended, Saani had watched with horror from the control room as the Hamask did the unthinkable, bashing down three of Ari’s People.

Ari had not hesitated to run to their aid, only to find the facilities guards had not so much regrouped, as had been waiting for this all along.

Saani kept pace as best she could as Ari without breaking stride sent shockwaves of kinetic energy onto balconies, under floors and down corridors where the guards lay in wait, rarely strong enough to kill, but knocking them off their feet long enough to get past.

By the time they reached the door to the forge they had a tail of over a dozen guards.

Ari skidded and in a single twirl pulled her hades pistol and shot the guards at the door in the heads, put three more rounds into the lock, yanked the door free from its hinges with the force then turned to face their pursuers.

“Go I’ll deal with them,” she instructed her mother,

Saani slid past without a word into the inferno of the forge just as bubbles popped molten metal onto Selaena’s face, even the hyper-keratin of the Technocracies genetic engineering failing and drawing her face in a sick wax like melt.

 Blaster out Saani fired straight into Sora who was once more frustrated from finishing these fur-gnats off.

Sora growled and hurled her saber forward, her nanite tendrils currently tearing the precious armour from her victim.

Saani dodged the spinning saber staff, elegantly moving under the blade then gracefully coming up saber at the ready to take on the Hamask.

Sora’s internal database quickly recognised the Twi’Leki interloper her True Target all along -  Saani K’aval, this truly was a mission worthy of a Hamask.

Saleana grasped and clawed but the cybernetic pull would not be denied as Sora fired her arm mounted weapons at Saani and the Aethans, bolts smashing Lydan in the back as he curled round to protect his sister, his throat still sore from Sora’s grip, armour holding if only just.

Saani wove through around the Hamask avoiding the fire that left orange heated wounds in the walls and ladders, the twi’leki knowing her ranged weapons were of no effect against Hamask armour she had to get close and be very, very precise.

She got close.

She was precise.

But this was no ordinary Knight - this was Hamask.

Saani hit the activator on her left saber just as she rolled and skidded under Sora’s arm, only to find the gap that should be there filled with dark oily metallic Dover nanites that shimmered and fused into another layer of protection that her purple saber hissed against.

The distraction gave Selaeana a brief chance to struggle back and Lydan and Lyaea to help their mother.

One of the fractured orders blademasters, Saani fought on as the Aethan Trio retreated, more than happy to let the filthy twi’leki die.

The Hamask’s heavy armour and nanites blunted Saani’s attacks to little more than irritants.  Every single joint and weakness was filled by the mercury like nanites, spikes that sprung out and retracted back gave Sora a further advantage - usually Saani could get in close to a saberstaff wielder, deny them the sweeping range the two bladed weapon needed to maximum effect, here she could only skirt the edges.

Perhaps worst of all in the intense heat of the forge Saani began to realise just how fatigued she was - how long has it been since she slept? Ate?  Eighteen, twenty hours?

The boiling heat was causing her to sweat profusely, body hugging stealth suit uncomfortably wet as her hands became ever more clammy, the radiated heat making the metal of her saber increasingly painful to hold.

The Hamask had chosen her battlefield well, Saani beginning to seriously consider this whole expedition had been a trap, the Power cells planted under Anson’s prescient guidance knowing the Shadow Warriors would be drawn here.

Saani was not so easily dissuaded, the Hamask had beaten down the Aethan trio, but they had damaged significant  portions of the Cataphract war gear, while the dover nanites had repaired a third, there were still weak points with lodged oblivion flakes Saan could aim for.

Purple and gold clashed in the heated orange glow, the fiery inferno about them a reflection of Sora’s own bruning grief filled soul that turned and let in potent dark energy to fuel the endless swirls of her saberstaff and bone crushing kinetic waves.

Saani kept focused and calm, ice water to cool the flames, when their blades were not locked she drove into the dents and gashes the Aethans had left, the nanites increasingly struggling to keep up.

But ultimately it was a losing battle, Saani didn’t have the stamina after so many hours to fight a war of attrition with a Hamask more machine than flesh.  The Twi’leki summoned up still sizzling power cells from their moulds to hurl at the Hamask -  one in ten hit but it struck the Hamasks helmet.

Molten metal cracked and blackened Sora’s helm on the flesh side of her face, with a snarl she had to tear it off - her saber staff wielded one handed allowed Saani and chance to get in close, two quick strikes to clear the two golden blades then lunge forward piercing the lower abdominal plate, the cataphract armour hissing resistance but the purple blade cutting through, the plate section dropping off.

But it did not reveal a bodysuit or flesh...just a circular bulbous device surrounded by nanites.

A Baradium bomb integrated into Sora’s cybernetic lower half.

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

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."

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #287 on: October 20, 2021, 09:51:10 PM »

Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Mother and Daughter — Part 6

Prodigal Daugter

Sora’s ravenous senses could feel the shock and desperation that ratcheted through Saani, knowing there was nowhere in this entire facility she could outrun or hide from the detonation which would be enhanced in strength by the molten forges, and utterly certain should Sora’s already fragile biological physical form be compromised a dead man switch would detonate the bomb instantly.

For this was what Sora in what remained of her shattered soul hoped - to finally join her Teidowan, to die as she should have under the building in the flames, if she took out a clutch of Shadow Warriors and Ovarugs Blue Skinned whore, all the better.

The door behind slammed open, two glowing purple blades strode out in the hands of a fourth Shadow Warrior.

Saani, still feeling the shock and processing options, of which there were barely any, turned to scream.

“ARI RUN!”

In that moment Sora charged the twi’leki again knowing she could not lose, Saani spun to intercept the first blow in a white hot flash then felt herself dragged backward as Ari rushed to her aid.

“ARI NO,” Saani resisted with panic and fury in her voice.

Calm and serenity flowed in the reply

“It’s alright mother,” Ari said slowly walking forward as she pulled Saani back out of the fight. 

“Sora, you’ve lost enough in this war, your Teidowan, your body, don’t lose your life as well,” Ari said with poise passing Saani.

Sora’s muzzle sneered through the crack in her helm, unsurprised the creature knew her name, even her background, they used such mind skimming abilities to manipulate their foes in Dun Moch maneuvers. 

Sora understood the truth, when an enemy talked it was because they were desperately seeking a pause to hide a weakness.

She attacked.

The fury of the assault was incredible, bestial even to Saani’s eyes.  The yellow saber staff and jagged nanite limbs never stopped clashing against Ari’s purple blades.

Ari took every chance she could to slice through the Cataphracts armours secondary weapons - her lasers first, Sora noted the attempt and fired off her last micro missiles, the tiny projectiles singing in the air. 

Confident in her own armour Ari didn’t allow them to force her into an awkward position, the micro-proton detonations raked against her Oblivion pauldron and back plating but didn’t penetrate, and her firm footing and micro telekinetic pushes ensure she wasn’t shifted by the shockwaves.

The Hamask was relentless, in every blow she saw herself destroying the enemy of all the Vhal’dan stood for - order, justice, balance, pitted against chaos, murder and primitivism.  She let that righteousness turn to anger, drawing on the grief of her Teidowans death and her utter hate of the false Kage the Oblivion monster served.

Even as the golden light of her saberstaff's twin yellow blades fought off the regal purple with sparks of white, Sora thrust a volley of Force Lightning at her armored opponent.

This wasn’t "Electric Judgment" as the Maenowans preferred, this rage manifested as thick indigo lightning bolts arcing through the air, striking her opponent square in the chest.

The blackstone took the brunt of the hit, but the sheer force was more than it could absorb forcing Ari to re-route her kinetic shield to Tutaminis to divert the excess, and while her cuirass was still intact, smoke rose from the jagged scratch where the Lightning had struck.

Her opponent retreating, Sora's conscious mind caught up with her actions.  And found herself once again unsurprised.  Not even the first time it had happened had she lamented using such.  The memory was still fresh in her mind...

"Careful, maenowan..." The tone broached no argument; there was no castigation, no surprise.  "...Remember: properly utilizing your anger--your more...base emotions--can be of great benefit, to you, to the Order." The Vahlan Gray Master's voice was matter-of-fact as his face shrewd with experience

"Walking the knife's edge of Light and Dark is a Gray Jedi’s unending Trial.  Master both without succumbing to the predations of either and you master Yourself.  Whomsoever is master of himself is master of the field."  Suddenly his tone turned hard.  "True failure is not having lost.  It is the apathy of capitulation." The last word was spoken softly, gently. 

Sora had almost smiled; Master Soban's quiet voice was incongruous with his stature - while Nurhl was the Adamantium Spine of the Cataphracts, Ravra-Pax-Crion the embracing Heart, Soban was the Conscience -  the universally respected Vahlan’s voice was the one thing Sora’s rage could not blot out.

Sora took his words to heart, but not in the way he intended.

She had never capitulated, not buried under the rubbles while her body was burnt, not on the innumerable clinical white tables as her flesh was painfully grafted to incomprehensible machines, and not now.

Master of herself, master of her body, her rage and hate had kept her alive and given her strength to endure the surgeries and endless pain others could not, and it would destroy her opponent.  Let others call it the dark side and moralise, she used her every weapons for the Vhal’Dan and that was all the justification she needed.

Her twirling yellow blades created ever-tightening orbits, forcing Ari backwards as she was forced to cover the weakened cuirass more intently...the perfect opportunity for Sora to activate her armor's unique offensive system.

Pressing forward Sora's armor sprang additional biomechanical appendages, already overwhelmed they struck Ari’s Oblivion plates rather than her armour joints only by quick fire telekinetic buffets

Sora knew the Shadow warrior would suspect the feint for what it was: from her heavily armored boot, razor-thin carbon-filaments flowed along the ground in the shadows, searching, seeking the armored feet.

With precision timing, Sora's armor wound the thin filaments around the legs of her opponent, if not fully binding then at least hindering.

Ari belatedly noticed the trickle grabbing at her feet as Sora intensified her efforts with her blade work.

Her feet pinned Ari’s motion was limited, albeit given Aethan extreme dexterity and joint range not as much as Sora would’ve liked.

Their blades bashed as their bodies got closer and closer, the spike on Sora’s armour scraping against Ari’s as the nanite filaments searched for any micro fracture in the leg plates to enter.

Saani could barely keep up with the motion, not just for the fact every light in the dim plant room had been long since blown out by the blasts of lighting leaving only the purple and yellow glow of the sabers to illuminate the conflict.

What she could hardly believe was that Ari could stand alone with such serenity against a Hamask who was drawing from infinite oil pools of pure hate.

Her every instinct dragged Saani to intervene, to protect her daughter, but another part of her accepted that despite the seeming imminent danger, Ari was a grown woman capable of choosing her battles and fighting them alone.

“One more chance Sora,” Ari said through gritted teeth as their blade locked and already erode armour plates scratched together
“You can still live,”

Sora didn’t need to reply. 

The Lasat had died under the rubble with her apprentice, what had been crafted from the remains was a weapon more machine than woman powered by hate and grief that would never be diminished, and win or lose the baradium bomb would correct the error of her survival.

This was not the Capitulation Soban had warned against, this was Sacrifice, this was action, this was Sora’s indomitable control of her own fate, and knowing when it was at an end. 

Ari with a half tear accepted the inevitable.

The carbon-filaments broke through her body glove and stabbed into Ari’s thigh, slowed by the hyperkeratin of Aethan skin but soon reaching muscle.

Ari used it as a direct link to the Hamask.  The Cataphract plate’s Force callous diminished Ari’s strongest aether attacks, but the nanites linked directly to Sora’s flesh were beneath that ancient hallowed armour.

Saani saw a woman, nigh on a Demi-goddess in total control knock back another bone shattering blow from the Hamask then glow in a faint purple all round that surges along the ground through the nanites and into the Hamasks own armour.

Ari stared into the Lasats single visible eye as Sora stiffened incredulously as the phantom sensations transmitted along the sensory circuits of the nantites that felt as if her ‘right leg’ was frozen and contracting in on itself.

A surge of power that doubled Ari’s squeezing heart and trembled her body was unleashed in controlled blast. 

The Nanites tore apart along the length from Ari’s leg to Sora’s ruined body, their strong nuclear bonds rent asunder by the Aether leaving them little more than dust.

What seemed like an endless river of sand poured from Sora’s armour plates as she collapsed, her wrecked body exposed and unable to maintain its stance.

The baradium bomb flopped out, its internal wiring atomised leaving the payload without a trigger.

Ari sagged at the extreme fatigue of the Disintegration attack she had unleashed, knowing it would leave her aetherically fatigued for a full day at least, but happy to pay that price to save her mother and People.

Sora’s body spasmed in violent trembling bursts of neurons barely adapted to their cybernetic interface suddenly losing all connection registering only the [Extreme damage] echo of the last moments.

But her will was undiminished, her one flesh hand still grasping the zweihander indolently hacking at the ground as she tried to shuffle her way toward the enemy, the universe collapsed on her once again, her strength failing her, her rage, her hate insufficient to overcome the limits of her broken body to save her apprentice.

On unsteady legs Ari pressed one foot on Sora’s ‘good’ arm then kicked her saber free.  The quivering Lasat blurted incoherent spittle laced curses as Ari looked down on her.

Saani watched as Ari’s saber tip hovered at Sora’s neck, the metal conduits that had linked the Lasat to the Dover catalyst nanites warming painfully in the forges heat. 

A single thrust and Sora would be dead. No one could begrudge the execution of such a deadly opponent.

Ari’s saber shut off with a dull hiss, leaving the half bodied Lasat speechless.

“Lydan…” Ari whispered sagging as Saani moved to catch her only to be outstripped by the young Aethan man who was covered in red shatterpoint arcs repairing every wound he had rapidly.

Ari leaned into Lydans grip as his sister and mother patched each other’s wounds.

Saani might once have felt put out that she was not the one to catch her daughter - indeed that Ari’s first word after such an incredible display of power and Mercy had been the name of one of her People not her mother.

But Saani wouldn’t let misplaced jealousy intrude, in Ari resting upon Lydan she saw only another family that Ari could rely on for support and strength, and an assurance that no matter what happened to Saani herself, or Kazic, Ari always had a place and protection.

And in Sora’s writhing form, mouth agape in impotent hatred Saani saw her daughter, despite the influence of her Xenophobic and vicious species, reatined the Empathy and Mercy Saani had always hoped to impart. 

Selaeana and Lyaea were up astoundingly quickly - albeit with serious limps and stooping - Lydan checking over the bodies as the reinforcements arrived to secure the facility, comm chatter, evidence growing that Ansons forces were in a controlled, but comprehensive retreat to Lus’Phor.

Finishing her debrief with the new facility commander, confirming details on the stockpiles of power cells that were sorely needed Saani finally caught up with Ari, their next deployments were apart, Saani’s order to investigate an old space port in the under works where it was believed more of Ansons forces were retreating from.

The alabaster skin of her daughter held an additional paleness that was slowly warming back up with a pink hue, Saani could only imagine the power needed to comprehensively disintegrate dover nanite bonds with the Force.

She sat beside her daughter on a crate full of power cells, a slight static charge emanating from beneath them, Saani’s own blue hand a stark contrast to the auburn red hair of her daughter as she stroked it.

A sad smile stole across Ari’s face.

“Sora isn’t a bad person...but when her teidowan died…” Ari explained with insight well beyond her years, born of her own struggle and loss.

“War can make you lose yourself,” Saani agreed

“Or expose who you truly are,” Ari mused, Saani’s thoughts troubled for what that might mean in respect to her husband and Anson.

But if it were also true of Ari, then Saani couldn’t be prouder.

Her daughter had grown strong, with a breadth of Force powers Saani could never have imagined - and more than that wise. Ari showed mercy where she could - an exceptional amount considering the influence of the rest of her People - did not flinch in striking down her enemies when she had to, but still felt for those she had to kill. 

The epitome one might say of a Gray Knight.

More than all this she was Aresaea the woman now, her own goals and life beyond Saani and Kazic.

“I’m proud of you Ari, of who you are, and who you’ll be,” her purple eyes locked with the aqua of her daughters,

“When this is over, promise me you’ll go back to this girl you have feelings for, that the two of you won't waste another moment apart or at odds when life is so short and so precious, catch every precious moment together like your Father and I have,”

Ari nodded, leaning into her mothers embrace.

Saani squeezed Ari tight as she could for one last time, some distant unconscious part of her knowing this would be the last moments they had unencumbered by the weight and pain of loss and injury, but content that in that last moment she had sent her daughter into the galaxy with the best of her own wisdom - to love and be loved and let nothing stand in the way of that.

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

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."

Lord_S_Gray
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Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #288 on: October 20, 2021, 09:54:08 PM »

Chapter 45 — Oblivion Gray — Mother and Daughter — Part 7

Aftermath

Dust that was deactivated nanites ran through black clad fingers which closed to grip a portion of the sand like remnant and scry out its source.

Deep beneath ice and water...to the far north….Hephaestus base…

“A Hamask…” Kazic interrupted
“Maker…what did they do to her...” the Anzat stood behind Valens crouching over the body, Kazic not sure which was more astonishing, the extreme extent of the Hamask’s cybernetics, or that Ari had incredibly turned it to all but grains of sand.

Valens ignored him, rising and turning to Maekal

“Take the Lasat, armour and all the nanites to our ship,” he ordered the younger Aethan.

Kazic baulked at this
“She is a prisoner of war, and a Cataphract, her armour should be returned to the…”

Valens pinned him with a stare

“You were not about to renege on our agreement I could take any any all technology and artefacts I desired were you...Kazic?,”

The Anzat’s red eyes briefly narrowed, knowing full well the face he stared into was an illusion, Valens helmet rarely leaving his head.

“No, I was, not..but .there was never any agreement prisoners would be turned over to you, and from what I can see the larger plate armour is inseparable from what remains of her body at the moment.” 

The Hamask might have been on the other side, but Kazic knew were he to ever hope to regain any Cataphracts support after the war; it was a necessity to treat them with respect even in defeat...and more importantly, Ari had spared Sora, Kazic would do all he could to ensure she was not given over to the monsters he Now knew the rest Ari’s People to be.

The tensions between the Anzat and Aethan were simmering, Maekal itching to take the Anzats head for having the audacity to argue against the Divine Children of the Goddesses.

It was one of the very rare occasions Valens relented, if only partially.

“We’ll take the dover nanites now...see that the armour is uncoupled from that thing as swiftly as possible,” he ordered, saving some face then turning away swiftly. 

Maekal gave Kazic a snide look before scooping up the nanites with a telekinetic wind.

Kazic could only breathe again once they were gone.

K’ompo?,” Saani asked, coming up behind him, there was no point asking if anything troubled him, for the last few years everything had.  Yet even amidst the building pressures he could sense a calmness in his wife.

K’anpa…” he turned taking her in his embrace seeing the fatigue and minor injuries she had accumulated all too starkly - he really ought to order her to rest after such an engagement, but knew Saani would never forgive him for it.

“A problem with our friends?” Saani asked.
“No...not yet...I’m just thankful you both survived the Hamask...by the Silent Voices she was more dover catalyst than flesh…” he shook his head in wonder
“Breaking the nanite bonds...I don’t think Ari will ever cease to amaze me!”

Sani smiled warmly
“She’s grown a lot…” she said looking over to where Ari was talking with Valens, from what she could see Ari was, however respectfully, insisting Sora be left in Kazic’s custody and preventing a snatch attempt.

“Stronger and wiser than I could have hoped,”
Her voice took on a solemn but prideful whisper that only years later Kazic would remember for the foreboding it contained in hindsight.
“She will be fine without us,”

“I know,” Kazic agreed offhandedly, “but she’ll never have to be K’anpa,”

<<<<>>>>

Every bump and pivot richoteted through her body, strapped painfully tightly to the uncomfortable seats of the back of the transport.

Sora stared vacantly at the ceiling her remaining limbs bound, body utterly useless as she cursed that she hadn’t had the opportunity to die with dignity befitting a Hamask in a baradium detonation that accomplished her mission for the Kage.

The short haul flyer bounced again, the seat edge beneath her digging into her sine painfully.

Then the entire vessel shuddered and veered to the left.  More heavy thuds followed as if it were being rammed.

She impotently lay tied down as alarms blared and the ship hit something very very hard then with a bone wrenching twisting slammed to a stop, every light dying in the cabin.

There were screams, the dull thurmm of an energy weapon of some kind…

Then a blinding orange flare in the top of the cabin that spun in a swift circle of molten durasteel as the top of the transport was cut though.

An enormous figure landed in with a metallic clang.

Hamask,” the helmet destroyed voice said as the zweihander powered down

“The Triarch has sent me to retrieve you, your mission for the Kage remains unfulfilled.”

Kneeling down as best she could in the heavy Cataphract armour Knight Kall-jeq Masbes removed her helmet, the Nautolon was notorious for her inexorable drive to complete to the letter every assignment given - and expecting the same of other Cataphracts.

“I’m certain you don’t want to disappoint either...or yourself”

Sora snarled
“Get me more Nanites,”

<<<<>>>>

This Chapter is followed shortly by Schisms the Vhal’Dan Civil War Chapter 23 Cause and Effect.
http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=38018.msg700053#msg700053
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

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."

TheDutchman
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Force Alignment: 1106
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« Reply #289 on: October 29, 2021, 05:18:16 PM »

These scenes between Saani and Ari are as beautiful as they are haunting; despite her misgivings concerning Ari's choices, Saani proves herself a loving and trusting parent, coming to the conclusion that she has done what all good mothers do for their children: raise them to be able to live their own lives.  With Saani's POV, she now sees the woman that the girl who left her and Kazic has become, in this case, a unique fusion between their own ideals (and by extent, the Vhal'Dan) and that of Ari's People.  And while much can be said concerning the "best of both worlds," we also see that Ari is developing her own mores, for better or worse (which is exemplified by her indictment of Kazic: yes, she IS right BUT is ALSO intractable in listening to his own epiphanies).

Another such (beautiful!) scene regarding just that culture-clash: Ari's discussion with Saani concerning her own feelings for Mili.  As a mother, Saani tries without coercion to help her own daughter while balancing the complicated morality issues with Ari's own burgeoning love (especially troublesome as Saani knows that the "Solomon's Call" that Kazic has enacted is neither "black nor white" but one fraught with problems, and that's without even beginning to address Saani's own misgivings).  Still, Saani shows a greater wisdom here for Ari to be able to find solace in: she should listen to her feelings for Mili and not waste a second on further doubts.

Juxtaposed against the light of Ari and Saani's arc, is Sora's own POV.  From Light to Dark, feelings of love and compassion can influence one's own future, in this case: an already powerful Cataphract Hamask.  With her toeing the line of the Dark Side (even crossing it on occasion), we see yet another complicated situation that makes the best stories: Sora's rage, loss, and determination make her a force to be reckoned with, even taking on the Aethans themselves!  I thought I knew what a Hamask was capable of...

WAS I EVER WRONG

Sora's own scenes show just how incredible (and terrible) a Cataphract can be, especially one who has done away with any moral tethers (the horrible pathos being can one blame her?  Her own injuries were bad enough but to also lose her teidowan as a result?)... War is terrible...but what will one do to win?  Do the ends justify the means?  And--incredibly!--Sora's own survival isn't something to be taken for granted (I fully expected her death; again: was I wrong  Wink)...

The Civil War wasn't fought (or won) in a day and neither are the lives of those who fought limited to such.

Meta-note: I'm hoping to see more of Sora and this time around some of the Troika; while a Hamask "berserker" operates apart from the traditional Triad, I'd love to see how they both supplement one another^^
Logged

Sig courtesy of DarthScrub

Cataphract Triarch of the Vhal'Dan

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

Lord_S_Gray
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Force Alignment: 428
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« Reply #290 on: November 10, 2021, 05:24:49 AM »

Chapter 46 — Oblivion Gray — Misdirections — Part 1
>>>>These Events Occur Simultaneously and Shortly After Schisms the Vhal’Dan Civil War Chapter 23: Cause and Effect<<<<<<

Ghosts of the Golan’s

“Still no response…” Mylinda Kazz, Silver Knight and Primus of Triad Osk sighed.

Behind her Maenwoan and Ambassador of the Vhal’Dan Jorl’Taf breathed in deeply as he stared through the transparisteel as the Golan II space platform Svartr.

They had dropped out of hyperspace at hyper lane terminus just inside the Macrol Void where the systems was protected by Galtea’s sun Heiosphere from the deadly pulsars that surrounded it.

As per standard procedure they had approached the two vast Golan II defensive stations that guarded further entry to the system on sublights, and issued their clearance codes.

There was no response.  At all.

He clutched tighter to the mechano-locked folio under his right arm, linked by a Bio bracelet around his wrist that resembled grav-cuffs.  Within were several crucial documents from the Confedeate-Colonies of Zilior that await only the Kage’s seal and Bio-imprint to be ratified. 

The tall dark skinned Maenowan had been tasked by D’Aklon himself with a secret mission of searching the outer rim for other independent systems that might be open to an alliance with Vhal’Dan in exchange for assistance in either reconstruction of Galtea following the war or - as he increasingly feared given the damage to the planet he knew about before contact was lost - a new home for the survivors.

Having served as ambassador to the Jedi on Coruscant for nearly 10 years the Kage had utter faith in Jorl’Taf’s ability to find a satisfactory partner, but given the extreme sensitivity of the mission he had to do so alone apart from his honour Guard in the form of Triad Osk. 

Only the Cataphracts could be trusted with such an undertaking D’Aklon had insisted, indeed apart from the Kage only the Triarch Baz-Rhadde was even aware of the mission.

Discussions with a range of systems had stalled, but the growing Confederate Colony of Zilior had proved both willing and able to offer assistance and sanctuary in exchange for Vhal’Dan military and technical expertise - Triad Osk, and especially Mylinda herself, had especially impressed the Confederate Militia that the Vhal’Dan could back their promises regarding marital resources.

“Try once more,” Jorl-Taf whispered as he scanned the gap between the two Golan platforms,  the miniscule  -by astro navigation standards - path between the platforms and through the gravity well generators planetary shadows was closed by a shimmering pinkish field,  an interdictor net to prevent any ships passing in or out.

Mylinda complied with a nod, her orange hair tightly wound in a bun above sharp features that reflected on the consoles .

Even more troubling, there were no ships anywhere nearby, not even scouts or tugs maintaining the Interdictor Nets innumerable projection buoys.

And yet all read outs indicated both stations, Svartr and Imðr - Black and Grey in an Old dialect - were fully operational, no sign of damage, the net, the gravity well, shields all perfectly functional.

Tense minutes passed, the timeframe for even an automated reply slipping past.

“Nothing…”

Worse they could not make contact with anyone further in the system, the Golan’s comm’s scramblers were fully engaged.

Mylind turned to look at the Ambassador, while his last few decades had been spent as a diplomat Jorl’Taf had not simply stumbled on the rank of Maenowan before that and had operational command.

“Comm Vask, we dock on the western Platform, find out what is going on,”

In the emptiness of the Bridge of the Svartr, lit only by the green and blue glow of consoles and diffuse light of distant pulsars, teeth far too white glinted with a smile as inhumanly heavy daggers were drawn.

<<<>>>>

Triage

“...we failed…” Evaea repeated head hung in shame as she sat on the medi-couch Kassyndra’s light touch soothing and warm with shatterpoint healing energy.

“Hey two outta three ain’t bad Silky,” Taryn in the couch across jested, bandages across his chest and right thigh where he’d taken a few too many hits from a different Cathar Cataphract.

“Our mission was to eliminate the Triarch...we failed,”

“Eva really, we’ll have none of that,” Kassyndra insisted, her tone firm and motherly - having been so long absent a senior female role model it held additional strength in Eva’s ears, something Kassyndra knew well enough to exploit, yet despite her efforts Evaea still thought in the binary terms of success and failure her Sensei had taught.  The People cared only about survival.

“The Triarch, Anson - Valens was very clear only he and Jarys were to fight them one on one at full strength...you couldn’t have known the Triarch wouldn’t even pause when his Triad died,”

The 10 bed med-bay on the Aephrodaea had become an unintentional rendezvous.

Of the five widely spaced med-couches interspersed with floating Chiss med droids and equipment sleds was the vast majority of the People. 

On the left side closest to the door to the turbolift Lydan and Lyaea were stretching under Oran’s watchful gaze, his rhythmic healing abilities having drastically magnified their recovery from Sora’s beating -  young Oran still had no memory where he learned the technique.

Adaea was holding her young husband's hand, while not physically injured apart from the now endemic fatigue all the People suffered from after weeks of endless combat, the Cataphracts ‘Stone Mage’ - the Aing Tii - dispelling efforts had rubbed her aetheric aura raw.

While the siblings would be able to return to the battlefield in a half day, their mother would not.  Selaena had taken the brunt of Sora’s fury for her children and paid a heavy price for it in burns and wounds that would take several days to heal even with Kassyndra and Oran’s focused efforts.

Xani was attending to her adoptive Aunt, the youngest Aethans nursing skills had quadrupled in the last few weeks as she worked closely under Kassyndra, picking up tips from Oran as well, the teens Aethenaea Cortex all but worn out absorbing information.

Across the room Nyaea fretted over Evyn with a singular focus that stirred Evaea’s jealousy.  Beside that pair Taran, Taryn and Maeson lined the couches to the far side of the bay where the two operating theaters were - thus far - mercifully unused. 

All three had been nursing niggling cuts, sprains and muscle bruises before they encountered the Cataphracts - the Vhal’Dan heavies hadn’t so much inflicted more wounds as zeroed on and aggravated those they already had, finally taking them off the front lines.

It was a drastic reduction in their operational capacity to have so many injured in such a short space of time, Valens having to abandon some of his planned lotting expeditions, the older Guardians, Karintha, Kiraea, Yorna, Jarys and Melron having to do double duties to maintain the illusion of their numbers.

“There, all fixed for now…” Kassyndra said knowing her young charge was not in complete health, but the necessity of the fight denied them the chance to take the time to heal properly.

Evaea shuffled off the bed pacing slightly forward but her feet still unsteady. Resilient as Aethan biology was, and powerful though their healing powers were - they were reaching the hard limits of both.

“Another few hours at least,” Kassyndra added sternly enough to prevent any argument.

It may delay their efforts, but no amount of technology or outsider lives were worth People’s blood.

<<<<>>>>

Misdirection

Nurhl Båz Rahdde lay the ancient metal chisel down upon the velvet cushion with utmost care and solemnity.

Two more names now joined the hundreds of others upon the Onyx Tableau, the monument and record of all Cataphracts and those allies and supporters of the sect deemed of great honour and worthiness.

Olan Yncho, and Hevrin Mal-Tagge, his Secundus an Tertius.  It was nigh impossible for any but a Cataphract to understand the depth of the bond between members of a Triad, more than friendship or fraternity, they were One when they fought. 

The grief was…

Was for another time.  He would not dishonour their sacrifice by diverting one moment unnecessarily from the War that had taken them.

Losses were inevitable, even among the Cataphracts - that it had been his Triad first could make no difference whatsoever.

“Nurhl…” Ravra Påx Crion whispered behind him, his fellow Cathar along with half a dozen others had watched as he inscribed the names, a brief respite from the constant training and preparation.

She lay a single hand on his shoulder, a fleeting but tender moment.  The Cataphracts might joke among themselves Camp Rhadde was ‘Nurhls Den’, the Triarch himself like a stern but reasonable father - truth Ravra was the heart of their order the ‘Clan Mother’ to the whole of the Troika as much as she was to her own cubs providing support in ways that Nurhl could not, and the Triarch was eternally thankful for.  The diversity of personalities and skills of the Troika was truly what Whole.

Her hand lingered only a fleeting warm moment before she removed it.

“Triarch…” she now said making clear the moment for reflection and emotion was past

“We have intelligence you will wish to be apprised of.”

<<<<>>>>

“You should have informed us immediately” the hand sized holo figure snarled, trunk like arms across the roaring lion of his chest plate.

“I didn’t want to delay the interrogation,” Speaker J’Nessah Raahn replied even as she contemplated how best to remove the obdurately loyal Triarch once a new Kage was installed.

Nurhl suppressed a growl as best he could, respecting her position if not her personally.

Saani K’aval had not only been captured by forces under J’Nessah’s husband Pytirs command, but also taken to Lus’Phor for interrogation without either himself or the Kage being informed. 

Given K’aval’s close but as yet uncertain relationship to the Shadow Warriors a rescue was inevitable - presenting a drastic risk to everyone on that moon.

“A comms message takes little more than a minute Speaker,” he replied as evenly as he could
“I am sending a Tribus to secure the prisoner and bring her to Camp Rhadde, here we have facilities to properly detain and question such a dangerous prisoner...In fact I will see to it personally

“Thank you Triarch, the Kage will hear of your diligence,” she replied a thin smile on her dusky features
“I’m sure K’aval will be safe in your Den…” she added with a touch of arrogance.

Camp Rhadde was often referred to among the Triads as ‘Nurhl’s Den’ for how he prowled and protected the sanctum of the Cataphracts as an ancient Cathar might their Clan Den. But such a term of familiarity was only used among the Cataphracts themselves on informal occasions in the lounges and recreation rooms of Istic Fortress, or between Triads after a tough mission and about to ‘head back to the den’.

Using that term as a non-Cataphract, J’nessah was unashamedly trying to provoke and insult.

“And the Kage will hear of your actions,” Nurhl replied with uncharacteristic spite - J’nessah brought that out in him - before he cut the link.

“Politicians,” Alfa growled behind him
“We should throw them all to the Shadow Warriors,”

Nurhl found his muzzle twisting in a grin to his fellow Cathars distaste for Rhaan, although well aware Alfa considered every politician little better than ‘Mass for the Maw’, the Primus of Triad Jenth a vocal supporter of the Kage accumulating more and more personal powers above the Collegium.   

Considering the oily discomfort he always felt speaking with the likes of J’nessah and Pytir - something Nurhl typically avoided anyway - he was beginning to think the same way.

Once more Anson’s prescience had proven true, in their discussions after the Kage’s Temporal battle D’Aklon had said an opportunity would arise where Nurhl could convince the enemy of the Cataphracts destruction.

Nurhl knew this was it.

“Primus,” Nurhl addressed Alfa formally

“You will arrange with the air crew to prepare five Saril Transports for immediate departure, inform the fleet to secure an a path to Lus’phor, and make sure the Sentinels on Lus’Phor are apprised of our imminent arrival - a force of two Tribi and my Tria...myself,”

Myself… the loss of his Triad was a stinging wound that kept Nurhl sharp.

“All due respect Triarch Båz-Rhadde, if we’re trying to extract such a valuable prisoner wouldn’t it be better to just blitz up there in an hour under our clearance codes without signalling our intent across half the army?”

“If we were trying to do that yes,” Nurhl replied, golden eyes predatorial
“I want the intel of our deployment to slip out...not one Cataphract will be on those five ships…”

Alfa was a strong tactical thinker, forever analysing prior campaigns of the Cataphracts for any tweak to his carefully formulated combat strategies. It didn’t take long for him to catch on.

“You want everyone to know, to draw the Shadow warriors to attack the transports...try and kill us in transit where our Armour and Zweihanders are useless…”

It was ingenious, on both sides, the Cataphracts were weakest when being ferried to and from locations notwithstanding the incredible durability of the Saril Assault craft.  The Shadows superiority in space was unmatched, while some progress had been made it was evident their cloaking technology was comprehensively more advanced than anything the Vhal’Dan possessed. 

After a series of ignominious retreats against the Cataphracts the Shadows would leap at such a chance.

Yet Alfa paused for a moment, paw scratching the long black fur beneath his chin, a single brown streak down the centre of the beard equivalent among Cathar.

“The Pilots, the air crew will be lost…”

Nurhl grunted affirmative, he was well aware of the sacrifice needed to convince the Shadows they had destroyed two thirds of the Cataphracts forces in a single hit.

“It will be done, Triarch,” Alfa said with solemn intent.

“I will give the final order to Colonel Yashiv myself,” Nurhl added quietly, he would not outsource that grim task.

Without another word the  dark furred Bothan strode out leaving Nurhl alone in the quiet of the comms room, his deep copper fur slightly graying in the blue glow of the holo screens all around.

“For the Vhal’Dan,” he whispered to console himself.

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

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."

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #291 on: November 10, 2021, 05:25:53 AM »

Chapter 46 — Oblivion Gray — Misdirections — Part 2
Ghosts of the Golan’s
“...came through there...along the wall…” Gerchon thick finger pointed along the path marked out by blaster holes
“to the ceiling, down on him...then to the opposite wall through her…” now marked out by severed bodies lying cold in pools of blood partially dried in cycled air.

“then up and onto the others...those two got hit by a projectile, probably a shuriken of some type…”

Maker I’m too old for this drenMaenowan Juluun Vask of Triad Grek wanted to sigh.

The octogenarian hoary human had been retired only a year when the war started, loyal son of Galtea he had donned the armour once more, Nurhl scrambling a Triad under him including the three century old Gre’Chaw as Secundus, and the young buck Adrii as tertius

While the Feeorin Gerchon was far older he was old enough to know his talents weren’t in leading, but in tracking, hunting and being an all round stubborn bastard to kill.  His exceptional ability to read a battlefield on display now as they crept cautiously through the Golan platform, populated only by the dead.

“Same weapons and same tactics…” Vask sighed “...same damn ghost I’m betting,”

The lack of communication with Galtea was really biting now.  When Triad Osk and Grek had left just over five months ago the war seemed to be coming to a close, Osk and Jorl’Taf were off to the Outer rim to find allies, Vask had been sent to Kewda to recover from Dover Catalyst to sure up the Cataphracts supplies. 

Comms had broken down a week after they hit the Rimma and parted, and never been re-established since.

They completed their missions assuming the Kage had instituted a Comms Blackout, but after the 100 day mark followed protocol and returned to find…

To find the first line of Galtea’s defence, the Golan’s, little better than mortuaries....

Adrii knelt down looking over the long since inflicted wounds.

“over a month old?” She had asked half stated still finding her feet, but getting there.

“Aye,” Gerchon agreed “Possibly two,”

“And the weapon...to cut through the armour and leave peeling like that...the force must’ve been massive,”

“And the density of the blade greater than Kortosis,” the Feeorin mused

“I’ve seen phirk blades that could do that...but it’d have to be thrust by a maker damned cargo lifter arm…” Vask added, so far between Grek and Osk they’d found over two hundred bodies, some in their stations killed from behind, dozens in the hangar bays trying to flee, a good half- mainly the security the the handful of Knights, in various corridors and strong points where they had tried to make a stand.

There were also unusual burns on a number of bodies - the flesh seared and clothing elted, but concentrated, no overflow like a flame thrower or grenade would yield.  Vask suspected Force Fire, a rare and deadly dark side ability.   

Each battle scene Gerchon had read indicated the attacker was alone.

There were only a handful of vhal’Dan Vask was aware could do such a thing, the Triarch and Kage of Course - the Hamask Sora certainly but they were on his side.  On the Anzat traitors side Corvus Watashi - well he was too conventional...Saani K’aval...maybe...she had the acrobatic and stealth skills...but not to this degree, and where would she get phirk weapons?

No - this was something new.

“Proceeding to level 3” Mylinda commed over as Osk kept moving to the bridge.
“Still no contact,”

“Maybe whatever did this left…” Adrii said with more hope than the rest of her Triad felt.

“We’ll soon find out, Triad Forward,” Vask ordered in his nonsense tone, a trait he’d passed onto his former protege’s Ya’Qul and Al’Marq. 

The fact the Golan’s were running on automatic systems was even more perplexing.  it locked others out of Galtea sure, but it locked everyone else in.

They’re herding us in… he thought.  While no pre-cog like Alulat or Qaman’xa, he did receive front he Force strange ‘Concretes’ he called them, a thought or impression of a situation or event that he knew with stone cold certainty was True. 

An odd skill, but one valued by the current and former Triarch, where there was doubt, a ‘Concrete’ could give clarity to make a split second decision that saved lives.

They paced slowly through the annexes and lower store rooms, past the dorms and into the tactical command centers.

Progress was slow and steady as they scrutinised every sound, checked every corner and ventilation grate, scanned and re-scanned every puff of dust for traps and toxins.

The Golan Svartr was ice cold, atmosphere and gravity was still on, but thermal conditioning had been switched off.   

“Proceeding to Level One,” Mylinda commed again - the bridge level - “Still no contact, 22 more casualties,”

“Logged,” Vask replied as his arms swept infrascanners into the corners as they entered the axial corrodiro of the lower level. 

They were some of the first to fight Them.  They never had a chance. the concrete thought sunk heavy in his mind as he stepped past a chunky line in the floor - blast or atmosphere seal door.

Before his foot even fully hit the floor a metal shriek behind and the Blast door slammed shut cutting him and Gerchon off from Adrii.

“Contact!”
“Get the Door!”
snap hiss and yells were so fast they barely knew among the battle meld who was doing what. Gerchon’s blue blade snapped to life and began to cut into the Blast door, Vask jumped to the side to try and hack it, pulling the control panel out - too far out - the wires had already been cut.

Adrii instantly went into a defensive stance, teal blade humming.

A moving mist composed of blades and limbs struck her from above.

Everyone else seemed to struggle against these ‘Cata-fails’, Kiraea mused as he unleashed the twin short swords with furious downward momentum into the shoulders of the creature beneath her.

The Catafail shifted, her blades drove into the Shoulder plates that popped with an ablative response, annoying but nothing an additional boost of energy couldn’t fix.  Kiraea pressed straight through even as she spun mid air to bring her knees into the Cataphracts face plate with an aether boosted impact.

Sword in her shoulder and kneed in the face Adrii slammed backward into the blast door Gerchon was trying to cut through.

Kiraea landed in front of her, the Tertius briefly glimpsing as the pain from the blade in the shoulders began to bite - an instant later the Aethan was gone.

A wrecking ball slammed the Tertius from the Si as Kiraea bounced off the wall and rushed her pulling her swords out as she spun over the Catafail, who responded with a heavy but not quite accurate enough kinetic blast and swift Ataru strikes.

With a confident grin Kiraea wove through them, hacking away at the Catafail armour, while exponentially more resilient than the other Vhal’Dan dregs she’d eliminated here months ago, she could appreciate it was kind of tough….

Adriss flicked on and burst out with her arm mounted cannons, peppering the wall with heated energy, doing all she could to keep the Death Mist - for that was all she could see - at bay - until she felt the cold hard stab more more blades into her armours joints.

The bubbling chunk of dura-doonium clanked to the floor as Gerchon finally cut through. 

Kiraea rolled backward, four shikkars flying forward.  The Feeorin slashed two with his bsaer as he would selected blaster bolts, another lost to his ablative armour, the third lodged in the minimal gap between shin plate and knee pad...then it snapped off.

The blade with a mind of its own sought to work into his body, with a grunting telekinetic effort he tore it out of himself.

Adrii was collapsed on the floor bleeding out, the lithe black figure vanished from the thin halo of the sabers glow into the darkness.

She’ll pick us off one by one Vask knew.

“Back to Back” he ordered
“We have a heavily armed and armoured assassin loose,”

<<<<>>>>
Aresaea

The unfamiliar presence carried through the medium of a connection so intimately forged struck like a dagger in her mind.

“Ari!” Yorna was quick to sense her distress, spinning round to hold her up, Karintha in the vanguard paused as they paced through the emptied store rooms of the Sambasara Fortress in the jungle covered humid eastern edge of Galtea’s largest continent. 

It seemed that the Ansonites had completely evacuated this position days before their arrival, Valens strategy to push Anson to Lus’phor and force confrontation - whilst also reducing resistance at key locations they intended to loot - seemed to be working despite recent setbacks caused by the Cataphracts.

Ari gripped her hip where her link orbs were kept in a sealed blackstone belt box rather than the traditional leather pouch.  The pure black marble linked to Saani’s had shrieked with transgression as someone else attempted to use it.

Regaining her composure quickly Ari pushed back into it, seeing hazy faces she recognised as J’nessah Raanh and Pytir Anisen - she could also sense the direction from which the signal had come - ‘up’ meaning Lus’phor.

“I’m alright…” Ari assured
“...but my mother...she’s been captured by the Ansonites...on Lus’phor…”

“Then we must leave immediately to rescue here,” Karintha pre-empted the request
“She is family after all,”

The Matriarch's sincerity was - uncertain - but Ari didn’t especially care, she would need help to reach her mother who was undoubtedly well guarded.

“Well there’s nothing to find here…” Yorna agreed, noting how well the store rooms had been cleared by the retreating Ansonites, she plucked her own link orb to contact Valens to inform him.

<Val we need to head to Lus’phor, Saani had been captured, can you send a pick up,>
There was a pause, no doubt the Warchief attending to a marginally more important matter.

<I’ll send Maekal,> he finally replied
<You will rendezvous with the Aephrodaea have Kassyndra check you over>

<But that will take too long!> Ari protested desperation in her voice as her heart squeezed, feeling her mothers pain under vicious interrogation...before her sense of Saani was completely lost - not due to death but some kind of Force suppression device.

<I’ve just intercepted a transmission, the Cataphracts are sending two Tribii to take Saani back to Camp Rhadde, the Triarch himself is personally overseeing the transfer> Valens telepathic ‘voice’ and presence was cold and methodical,  quickly calming Ari’s firefly agitated nerves.

She had to help her mother, but Saani would never want her to risk her own life, or the entire war effort to do so.

<My analysis indicates the Triarch is in fact using this as a cover to relocate the Cataphracts to Lus’phor along with the rest of Anson’s army.  The Cathar’s pride won’t allow him to admit he is abandoning Camp Rhadde,> Valens continued, his dismissiveness toward the uncouth outsiders reputation for never backing down evident.

<The full Troika? Around Saani or Anson - either way we would need almost the entire People to take them all on> Yorna noted
<And more to deal with the regular Knights and soldiers,> Karintha added

<And we don’t have those kind of numbers or stamina…> Ari conceded logic overriding her filial impulses. 

Perhaps they could've taken the Troika on at the start of the war, but now so many weeks later, with a veritable patina of unhealed minor injuries, the Cataphracts were simply too numerous and too strong. 

<Which is why we will take this chance to eliminate them, Taryn take whomever you need - as many fighters and ships as you require - as soon as those Cataphract ships break orbit I want them destroyed by any means necessary>

<Get em while their butts are on seats,> Taryn said joining the impromptu conference of minds
<Shouldn’t be too much trouble,> the former pirate replied already forming options.

<Then our final moves will commence, Evaea will lead an assault on Hephaestus Base, Jarys and Kiraea on Camp Rhadde - without the Cataphracts its regular guard will be no match - we will take the technology and artefacts Kazic promised but could never deliver.>

Valens was positively aching to obtain the Holocron of Xinis’zo, as adept as he was at Flow Walking and Temporal manipulation, the teaching of the Aing-tii could take the People's skills to another level, that he intended to send Jarys and Kiraea to secure it indicative that of all the prizes they sought that was the first.

<Karintha you will assist Ari in infiltrating Lus’Phor, liberate Saani then secure the Kyber caches on the moon, I don’t trust Kazic to hand them over after I pass judgement on Anson.>

Any other time Ari might’ve protested Valens distrust of her father...but after all she had seen since her arrival...it was becoming more and more evident that the man who had adopted her, and the man who now lead one faction in the internecine feud were two different people.

Something about that thought caused a sense of...not vindication...but certainly satisfaction to briefly wash off Karintha.

It didn’t matter, her focus had to be on saving her mother, and eliminating the Cataphracts first was the best way to ensure that.

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

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."

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #292 on: November 10, 2021, 05:27:13 AM »

Chapter 46 — Oblivion Gray — Misdirections — Part 3
Ghosts of the Golan’s
The Bridge was a charnel house. 

Whatever last heroic stand had been attempted failed certainly, but not for want of trying.

Hands, flippers, and paws all still grasped weapons in icy endless desperation.

Triad Osk had entered weapons live as they heard the humm of a saber. 

A Weequay knight held the blade in his dead fists as his head was flopped back dried blood trickling from the wound in the forehead.  His saber hadn’t been switched off as was only just flickering after countless days active.

Secundus Yorel and Tertius Hadda were back to back as tightly as Mylinda was to Jorl’Taf, the Ambassador slightly constrained by the Case on his right arm, but still able enough with his silver blade in his left.

They moved swiftly between the chairs as the dim light of the distant pulsars gave everything an eerie pink hue.  Far in the distance they coil just spy Galteas sun, blue and white at this distance.

It was a welcome sight for Mylinda, though given the tomb that the Golan was she feared what they would find once they got further in the system.

After landing through the undefended atmo-shield they found every last vessel in the bays broken heaps, in most cases their own weapons had been turned on the ships opposite to disable each other while docked, the crew not living to escape.

What worried her most was the fact that this had occurred months ago and then...nothing. No Marines sent to recapture, no Battlecruiser to secure the key transit zone.

The Golan’s were critical strategic assets controlling space travel into and out of the system, both sides needed them.  That both sides had seemingly abandoned them was utterly incomprehensible.

“Here…cover me,” The Ambassador said heading to the main control consoles scanning it to ensure there were no traps before using it.

The Bridge was wide and open with a 360 view of space around it, the other Golan Imðr visible to the ‘west’ across the pinkish glow of the Interdictor Net.  Control consoles were arranged in large circles and at the center a large command holo that displayed an image of the Golan itself, readouts scrolling by above and beneath it.

It was clear whatever creature had slaughtered its way through Svartr had done the same on Imðr, the staff, marines and knights were no match for the creature, and now it seemed a Cataprhact wasn't either.  Admittedly Adrii was only recently elevated, but still, it meant their enemies physical abilities and equipment was equivalent if not more advanced than their own.

How this thing would fare against more seasoned Cataphratcs who now had some idea what was coming was almost tantalizingly curious to her.

 “Power systems, shields, weapons, everything is undamaged…” Jorl’Taf said as he scrolled through the files, his Military Overrides were still working.

“Security footage had been wiped...the communications scramblers…” he punched in commands to access the system, it was fully operational indeed had its range boosted by diverting portions of shield and weapons energy…”

He tapped away as Mylinda kept a keen eye on her surrounds.

“Shav…” Jorl hissed as the [connection error] was returned to his inputs

“Problem?”

“They’ve cut the consoles control circuits, we can get status read outs but can’t shut things off from here,”

Dust particles bouncing in the light suddenly spun faster, a visual cue a trap was about to be sprung that just lit their minds to respond as the attack began.

Hadda had barely thumbed her Sabers switch when the floor beneath became a vortex pulling her in. Yorel tried to grab her from falling, but it only made the outcome worse.

An implosion grenade hidden beneath the deck plating explode from a  telekinetic flick of Kiraea’s thoughts under the Tertius,  metal, ceramics and wire whorling inward, taking the Tertius legs in with them, compacting the contents too close to the implosion centrifuge into a mangled mix, Yorel finding he was now holding Hadda’s entire body up staggered backward bringing her but not the lower part of her legs  which had been curled into a mix of metal.

A ghost of a form spun in behind Yorel, on a knee to give stability Kiraea let the Secundus fall on her swords , the ablative plasma cloud buffeted off one blade, but the other sank in.

She was not done yet, the slow outsiders had barely registered the events occurring at all as she raced round to the other two - that was how to beat these Cata-Fails she had worked out, you struck each one hard and fast individually, then at worst just had to wait out their weak Outsider bodies failing.

She flipped out her bow drawing it long and taught to fire near point blank into the Catafail.

STOP!” Mylinda’s Will, tremendously enhanced by the Force was like a wall that stopped Kiraea dead for a critical three seconds.

Yorel clattered down, Hadda landed ontop of him, Joel’Taf saber snapped on and Mylinda turned both her arm mounted cannons on the attacker.

Heavy charges shots smacked Kiraea backward with tremendous forces that was sending Mylinda backward at the same time, the Aethan Blackstone armour heating quickly under the steady barrage.

Jorl’Taf added to the attack by hurling his saber like a spear at the enemy, impressed once more by Mylinda’s unique power. 

The Reason Triad Osk had been chosen for the diplomatic task was Mylinda’s ‘Will’ abilities, an intense force of personality that made her incredibly charismatic and able to influence others - friend and foe alike - when enhanced by the Force.  Distinct from conventional mind tricks, this was a sheer ability to manifest her will in a way that like gravity was undeniable.

Kiraea snapped off her arrow then used the bow to bash aside the saber, rolling and bouncing beneath and behind the consoles to avoid the blaster fire as Triad Osk and the Ambassador formed up to respond.  Hadda was in incredible pain, her legs ruined, Yorel was up but unlikely to last long with a sword still in his back.

Mylinda’s head snapped to the side to doge, the arrow, only for the malefic projectiel to round on her again, forcing her to bash it away with her beskar breaker that glowed orange as her hair, Kiraea quickly moving to attack once more.

Entire consoles were torn from the deck and hurled at the PRimus and Ambassador who dodged where they could, sliced into or shouldered the impacts where they couldn’t as wires sparked from being torn up and chunks of metal filled the dark air.

Among the hurled objects was an incredibly lithe form that struck had as a mag train, the sword smashing into Mylinda’s breastplate activating the ablative plating as the Oblivion blade ground off in sparks, then just as quickly slashed into Jorl’Ta’fs Soresu guard, the more conventional knight bouncing off a series of six slashes before being struck by a knee seemingly from nowhere.

The sheer force of Aethan muscles hitting encased in ultradenses stone caused something in his side to crack painfully as he tumbled over a console desk, the buttons and levers poking into him as Mylinda moved to intercept as best she could.

SURRENDER!” the Primus yelled with the Force of her Will, the Aethan felt the impact against her mind, but but sneered, the trick didn't have the same impact the second time, the pathetic Catafail was trying to exert control on a mind like her own, rational, considerate like all these other dull knights - it was not nearly as effective against the instinct sped cognition of People.

Kiraea leapt and spun around the bulky primus, slicing her apart from every angle, forcing Mylinda to use up her Force stamina to keep her speed and dexterity equal to the impossibly acrobatic Aethan.

Mylinda could already feel the burn of Force exhaustion behind her eyes, her Beskar breaker moving fast but unsteadily, at any moment she feared her wrists would give out and send it flying, leaving her already battered plate even more exposed.

“PRIMUS!”  A huge bulky torso smashed into Kiraea, beskar-breaker in hand.
Hadda, her legs wrecked and body wracked with pain, had been hurled by Yorel straight at the enemy after she had taken the sword from his back.

With Yorel’s Kinetic momentum and the battelmeld’s guidance Hadda became a living projectile to knock the enemy away from the Primus.

The pair bounced and crashed into the transparisteel that circled the command centre, Hadda hacking as best she could using all the energy she could summon from the Force to match the intense strength of a genehanced demi-god.

“Primus you need to...to…” Yorel could barely finish his sentence for the blood loss, but Mylinda understood. 

As Jorl’Taf righted himself Kiraea was finally divesting himself of the irritating Cata-fail, slamming Hadda back into the wall then smashing her already ruined legs to inflict more of the pain Outsiders experienced that seemed to affect their ability to do anything else.

With her Triad fatally wounded there was no way to resist this...thing...her overriding priority was to get Jorl-Taf and the documents safely to the Kage.

Biting against the pain Yorel pounded forward, the Shistavanen barking in a vicious charge to give his Pimus the time she needed.

<<<<>>>>

Nurhl
He stood in the secure bays of Camp Rhadde and watched the oblivious loyal soldiers march to their deaths.

Five Saril Class Transports - specifically designed to ferry Cataphracts, with specialized storage for the Dover Catalyst, tools for more advanced armour repair, spare power cells fo Beskar-Breakers, innumerable Blaster charge packs, on board surgical facilities in addition to the powerful armament - would be sacrificed this day, their crew with them.

A sepia skinned human with care worn wrinkles, tall for his species but still tiny against Nurhl in full plate saluted before him.

“Triarch all is prepared we will depart immediately, I have turned over all command authority to Captain Tin’eea,” Colonel Yashiv said, the commander of the Galtean army stationed at Camp Rhadde, he had served with distinction for many years, Nurhl considered him, if not a friend, then a highly respected colleague.

His repayment would be ignominious death in low orbit.

Nurhl saluted back.

“Well done Colonel, The Kage will hear of your exemplary efforts, they will not be forgotten”

The Colonel looked puzzled for a moment, was this not a simple ferrying of Cataphract equipment to establish a temporary base on Lus’Phor as part of the planned counter offensive?

“Thank You Triarch,” he replied slightly bemused before returning to his final duties.

Nurhl watched as the staff entered, good Sentients all.

A lesser Triarch might doubt, object, scoff at the sacrifice - an even more Cowardly one would refuse to look. 

Nurhl was strong enough to meet the eyes of each and every member of the engineering corps, soldiers, general staff and guards as they passed, knowing he was sending them to their deaths - consoled this was the path to ultimate Victory the Kage had foreseen. 

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

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."

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #293 on: November 10, 2021, 05:28:44 AM »

Chapter 46 — Oblivion Gray — Misdirections — Part 4
Nurhl
Outside the Arming chamber where the Cataphract armour rested on supports that gave the hallowed plate an empty silent humanoid form, was a small holo-pad in the door frame.

On it were listed names of all serving Cataphracts by Triad.

Nurhl scanned down the first column, the names of the Primus’s.

Aurek - Master Gray Nurhl Båz Rhadde
Besh - Maenowan Jelan Ya'qul
Cresh - Maenowan Chimi Mal-Wel
Dorn - RETIRED
Esk - Maenowan Ravra Påx Crion,
Forn - Silver Knight Kall-jeq Masbes
Grek - Maenowan Juluun Vask
Herf - Silver Knight Ostooloruu Wuurich
Isk - Maenowan Qaman'Xa
Jenth - Silver Knight Alfalex Nåj Withstr
Krill - RETIRED
Leth - Silver Knight Dexxel Behrn
Mern - Silver Knight Looqar Sim
Nern - Maenowan Ts’An’Ral
Osk - Silver Knight Mylinda Kaaz
Peth - RETIRED
Qek - Maenowan Agemean Villados

A number of Triads were marked as Retired, insufficient initiated warriors to fill them, part of the reason the Cataphracts had been used so sparingly until the Kage was certain where they could best be placed.

There had been over two dozen aspirants at the start of the war, now dwindled to under half that number as they were drafted..and lost.

Triad Grek was on special assignment to Kewda to obtain more Dover Catalyst, Juluun Vask himself already close to retiring at the start of the war. The destruction of the fleet and raids by the piratical Shadow Warriors vessels meant it was unsafe for them to attempt to return.

Triad Mern had been killed on the Grungir, Triad Nern on the Draugr during the devastation of the fleet that heralded the Shadow Warriors arrivals…

Maker! They could missed Looqars Shatterpoint expertise, arguably the best practitioner of the rare technique in the entire order.  Triad Nern under the somewhat aloof Tsan Ral, an abnormally muscular Siniteen, were the Cataphracts experts in data analysis, on the Draugr to assist the fleet with orbital surveillance.  Whether the Siniteens analytical mind could've hastened the development of effective counter measures to the Shadows tactics - even by a single day - none would ever know.

More than that, the friendship, the bonds with members of Mern and Nern - cut so swiftly had been hard on all the Cataphracts.

Triad Osk, the only remaining Triad not insystem , had been tasked with a secret mission known only to Nurhl and the Kage himself.

The damage done to Galtea was substantial, rebuilding would take decades at least. 

Primus Mylinda Kaaz was to accompany Ansons’ loyal diplomat, Maenowan Jorl-Taaf - formerly the liaison to the Jedi on Coruscant - in a diplomatic mission to outer rim systems seeking the possibility of another unity with a stable system that could provide assistance in exchange for Vhal’Dan military support...or - if worse came to worse - the chance to migrate to  new home world under treaty.

Last he heard they were in the Uziel system, a small archipelago world there with a studious population that had proven amenable for further dialogue.

With an exhalation of acceptance and resigned reminder he needed to update the system to mark Aurek, Mern and Nern as ‘Retired’ given the loss of his own Secundus and Tertius, he proceeded inside.

There were twenty Triangular stations in the Arming Chamber, one for each of Twenty possible Triads, each featured a locker for their armour, benches for repairs, various tools, charging stations for Zweihanders, chairs suiter to the particular species of the Triad members.  Each of the active ones also featured personal affects belonging to the Triad members, often pics or micro-holo’s of family and friends, books, posters, music disks, heirlooms, warding icons and the like that made the otherwise uniform stations feel homely.

In the center of each station was a large octagonal plinth with six connection points on top.  Below that was a transparisteel section, within which the Dover Catalyst could be seen.  It was a shimmering granular amalgam of crystalline dust harvested on Kewda beneath the Ancient Stone Guardian, imbuing it with extraordinary resistance to Dark Side - and had been seen against the Shadows more ‘primal’ - Force energies - combine into more conventional nano-technology to facilitate dynamic repair of damage to the Cataphract armor.

Normally each Dover Station would be near to full...the ones he passed were under a third.  While they had lost few Cataphract lives and had only a few serious injuries, the Shadows Warriors Oblivion melee and Maser based ranged weapons were highly damaging. Few Cataphratcs had returned from a clash with any Dover Catalyst left, and with Grek locked out of the system...their stores - admittedly never large due to the rarity of the Catalyst on Kewda and complex process of nanite integration - were running low.

Stepping toward the only other person in the Armoury, Nurhl hoped the Oblivion armour would fail before the Cataphract did.

“hhh….nnnn…” he heard the grunting saw the strained frustration as at the dorn Station Vilhynn Soban struggled against his own pained joints to put on his body suit.

“Here…” Nurhl placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to steady his friend
“Let me help,”

Humble, always so humble yet utterly dignified Soban accepted the aid, Nurhl helping him suit up, noting with a tight jaw the intravenous lines in the back of the Vhal’s neck connected to anaesthetics and stimulants in a noxious mix.

“Thank you…” Soban said, his blue eyes surrounded by bloodshot lines as red as his hair had been as he took his gauntlets from his old locker.

They had met decades ago, both had more colour than gray hair and fur then...yet it seemed mere days to Nurhl.

It had been on Vahla,  a Vhal’Dan expeditionary Vessel crewed by among others, two new knights - Nurhl Båz Rhadde and Anson D'Aklon had arrived to investigate the world, referred to only in a handful of histories. There they found a rich culture but under the iron rule of the Central Coven of the Six In Exile - a group of Six priests of the Goddess Vahl, powerful force users whose rapaciousness was exceeded only by their despotism - all except one.

That One was the youngest priest he so called, ‘Double Blessed’ Vilhynn Soban. Already in his late thirties Soban was possessed of a bulky muscular frame, highly unusual for the Humanoid Vahlans,and a strong connection to the force  indicating in their culture the blessing of the Goddess.

During the negotiations for trade and exploration Anson and Nurhl had found Soban noble and honest despite the other five members of his Coven, trying, despite overwhelming odds to reform the Covens ways, having always harboured doubts about the validity of their rule as well as their methods, but alone he had little success.  The Vhal’Dan had helped Vilhynn to recognize the religious zealotry of the Central Coven of the Six In Exile, forming a strong friendship with Soban over the months.

The Coven however saw the Vhal’Dan ‘Far Outlanders’, and their bringing of contact to the larger Galaxy,  as a threat to their power.  A Flashpoint came, the Coven ambushed the Vhal’Dan.  It was a fatal error, Nurhl and Anson, as the prime security of the expedition, overwhelmed the attackers and took the fight to the Coven.

At the entrance to their Temple, Soban had stood, armed and awaiting them.  He stepped aside.  The Five other Priests did not, the fight was vicious, and bloody, nurhl was only recently knighted then, Anson more experienced but not yet the warrior he was now.  The Coven was on home ground powered by strange totemic devices that made their svelte forms impossibly resilient.  Then Soban had intervened, joining the Vhal’Dan to free his people by blade and fist of the Tyrants he could not reform with words. 

And while it had secured freedom for the Vahl, Soban knew he could not remain there, nurhl and Anson had gladly accepted his request to join the Vhal’Dan where he served for nearly Twenty years as member, soon Primus of Triad Dorn - until the genetic condition of muscular Hypertrophy that had made him so ‘blessed’ and strong became a poison, his joints and bones still formed for a more lithe body failing leaving him in crippling pain to even walk. 

He kept up with the Cataphracts physical requirements as long as he could, but was, again, never too proud to admit a failing or error, retired from active duty the day he failed to pass an exercise circuit after three gruelling attempts.

Triad Dorn had been retired that day, but Soban’s legacy continued on - his Secundus and Tertius - Villados and Alfa easily taking roles as Primus of their own Triads, every member of ‘Corellian’ Triad Cresh had been fostered the trained by him from the underworld of Coronet, Henslou of Triad Jenth credited Soban with his choice to join the Cataphracts rather than pursue a role as Blademaster.

His gentle tone, but deep wisdom born of struggle and commitment to doing the right had made him the ‘conscience’ of the Cataphracts, whom even Nurhl turned to for guidance, the one Cataphract Midge - that curmudgeonly Wookie had never barked at in irritation, the one Dexxel Behrn always checked vitriolic profanities around - Maker even Sora heeded his every word! 

To see him now burdened by the armour he once wore so lightly was heart wrenching.

“You seem troubled Triarch…” Soban said quietly as he locked the plates on, knowing he would never remove them alive.

“I sent many good soldiers to their deaths today,” Nurhl replied, helping his companion.

“With every deployment that chance is always there,”Soban said

“This time it was a certainty,” Nurhl said darkly

“Do you regret it?”

“No. And that is what concerns me.” Nurhl sad honestly, he had looked into those faces as they left for certain death and felt sadness, but felt neither guilt nor remorse.  Soban might be the only one who could understand such, whatever his disagreements with the Coven, it could not have been easy to watch them die.

“You are the Triarch…” Soban reminded him, finally lifting from Nurhl grip to stand under his own power.
“Kortosis itself - you can bend, and you should, but you will never break,”

Standing back Nurhls head lowered, a posture he would never show to another,
“If I cannot justify this sacrifice - and so many before this - with victory that may just break me.  I don’t fear the Shadows...thieves, murderers, powerful but petulant animals to be culled.  It is the price in others lives for defeating them that weighs upon me.”

Soban understood, Nurhl would gladly charge into a dozen of the Oblivion clad beings without hesitation, and sure to slaughter a few of them! But to order others to do so knowing the odds were stacked against them was hard for the Triarch - though he would not flinch to do so, that burden remained with him.

It was a gallows irony that Soban was the one strong enough to lift the Triarch when he was weak.

“Empathy is not a source of fear, but the core of your strength,” Soban counselled hands on his friend shoulder to lift him

“The Justice of our cause is neither invalidated by defeat, nor enhanced by victory.  We have faced slavers, murderers, warlords together, had we fallen on the plains of Iakar, or the warrens of Horox...the Temple of Vahl - the reasons for which we fought remain noble as the sacrifice we might have made then, and these soldiers do now. You know this Nurhl,”

Nodding, eyes rising once more the Triarch agreed
“And yet still I need to hear it from your lips my friend,” he replied appreciatively as the ominous gravity lifted, grateful once more for his confidant, the only one with whom he could shed the adamantium mantle of Triarch for any length of time.

Yet as Soban lifted Caladbolg, his fierce silver bladed zweihander named for a mythical sword of Vahlan legend that had intercepted more blows for Nurhl than he dare count, the Cathar knew this would be the last time.

Soban had locked his armour and beskar-breaker in the Vault eight years ago, expecting in time it would be claimed by a new Cataphract.  Instead the Troubles, and now outright Civil War had intervened claiming the lives of too many aspirants. 

The Armour sat upon him as in days of old, and for a brief moment Nurhl saw Soban strong and focused as he was when they had stood back to back slaughtering hordes of Rakghoul after an outbreak in the Eastern Fringes far from their ‘native’ Taris.  But the small tubes in his neck broke the spell, the modifications to house the intravenous systems all too obvious.

Soban’s will was strong as ever, but his flesh had finally given out.  The Triarch dared not imagine the pain Soban must be feeling even with the most powerful numbing agents available coursing through his body.

The Master Gray seemed to sense his thoughts.

“All our years, all we’ve done has been leading to this...the Shadows - we’ve never seen their like - by Vahl and the Maker may we never see them again.” he gripped Caladbolg as sure as that first time after it had been forged with ancient Vahlan steel integrated to give it a strong Force Callous.

“They can break this armour, wreck this body, but our Will shall never bend,”

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

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."

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #294 on: November 10, 2021, 05:30:04 AM »

Chapter 46 — Oblivion Gray — Misdirections — Part 5
Taryn

<That’s them…> Taryn grinned from the silent loneliness of the Vorynx Fighter at a dead float.

<About Time> Jenaea huffed as the Saril Class Transports breached the uppermost layers of Galtea’s increasingly dust polluted atmosphere.

They had been waiting for nearly 3 hours to intercept the Cataphracts headed to Lus’Phor as part of the Ansonites evacuation to the moon.

It meant they had to allow several hundred Vhal’Dan regulars to escape to the moon, but they could be dealt with later. 

The Cataphracts were the only force left among the Ansonites Valens considered a threat, blasting them in transit would save a lot of hassle and leave the Kage, Kyber refineries, Camp Rhadde ad Hephaestus without effective reinforcement. 

“Ripe for the picking,” Taryn grinned at the thought of the booty they would net

There might still be a few Triads about, but the guts were about to be gone.

<I can’t sense anything?> Xani said, number 3 of their flight of 5 Vorynx fighters along with Nyaea and Oran.  Those three were the youngest and most vulnerable so had largely only been involved as healers and on the occasional fighter or transport run.

<Are you sure the Cataphracts are one there?>

<Oh they’re there niblet,> Taryn assumed
<Just cloaking their presence, trying to look like just regular joes,> he said unknowingly, falling for Nurhls sacrificial bluff.

<Oh that makes sense,> Xani agreed.

<Can we hurry this on,> Jenaea complained

<Keep your britches on just a little longer, can’t rush these things> he said as he watched the five blips on the scanner about to be joined by a flight of six Headhunters - not the best of Anson’s fleet to be sure, but given how methodically they’d wiped it out the Vhal’dan had little choice.

<Such a daring pirate you are…> Jenaea snarked
<Such a demure young lass you are> he sniped back without a thought
<Shove it Taryn,>
<Just tell me where you’d like it.> he fire back with a snigger.
<Try your own garbage chute>
<huh?> the naive Xani questined of the sparring.

<I’ll tell you when you’re older> Jenaea assured, the verbal joust in good jest.  switching between teams had allowed the People so recently reunited to get to know each other better, among the more solid friendships built, Taryn and Jenaea found a commonality in having survived among the the worst Space Scum in the galaxy, a camaraderie that manifested in adopting the crass humour of their former lives as an amusement.

<I don’t sense anything> Jenaea added, her danger sense honed by years of avoiding a slave master's whip sharpest among the People.

<Then let's get moving,>

With a flick of their wrists the Vorynx Fighters went from slow geosynchronous float to 10 metres per second, then up to thirty as their Stygium stealth drives were switch off power diverted to forward shiels and the megamaser assault cannons.

Alarms for missile locks and bogie detections blared across the Saril transports, Colonel Yashiv already leaning over the pilots in the cockpit of Breaker 1 quickly issuing orders and sending  signal for additional escorts.

“Shields up, lock onto the Ion trails and adjust the targeting to 1.5 meters ahead of the pulse, tune sensors for mass rather than radiation,” he commanded swiftly taking into consideration all the Navy had learned of the nefarious Oblivion Ghost fighters that stalked upper orbital lanes.

Breaker 2 Confimed,”
Breaker 3 Confimed,”
Breaker 5 Confimed,”
came across the Comm.

Breaker 5 report!”

“I...I can’t…..move my hands…” in the cockpit the Pilot stared at the jittering digits of his fingers as a telekinetic grip stopped him moving anything below his shoulders.

Oran’s eyes narrowed as he caught the pilot in his snare, a quick squeeze of the trigger and four mega-maser blasts lit a vicious red screeched across the empty space.  slightly staggered from the cannons off the triangular hull of the Vorynx fighter the two inner shots hit first, crackling the shields, the next two left them all but dead.

Nyaea spun under him and fired her cannons in a 1,3,2,4 combination rather than all at once, peppering along the Saril’s hull as its point defence batteries replied with yellow streaks and missiles tried to get a lock on the dense Oblivion Hull.

Two of the four shots slammed into the doonium plating, the maser weapons hit with kinetic and energy impacts, crunching in the side of the vessel, the Chiss weaponry more advanced than the Vhal’Dan defences causing serious damage with just 8 hits, not assisted by the fact the pilots were locked in their own bodies, other officers desperately trying to climb over them to divert power back to shields and take evasive maneuvers.

It was too late as Xani came in over the top, her Tri-Repulsor shields easily taking the Sarils hits as she dropped a Shikkar torpedo straight into the forward section, the ultradense phrik drill bit rending the cockpit off the transport as she zoomed past, its proton core blasting the remainder into fiery blue chunks.

The Headhunters arrived as the remaining Sarils took evasive maneuvers trying to zig zag to the relative safety of the Ansonite Fleet remnants outer perimeter around Lus’Phor.

The Corvette Fossegrimen responded immediately, moving to assist, Taryn’s long range scanner picking up the movement and tightening the time with his lips as he moved to hit the second transport.

A stream of green fire darted in front of the headhunters, the Blackstone hull of the Vorynx fighters made them difficult to see visually, the pilots trusting in cues from the Ion trails of the engines and mass detection equipment.

Kyrringa enroute to assist,”
“Get the Vipers to Micro jump in,”
Frostglave we need this corridor secure!”

Nurhl heard every message, the fleet giving their all to protect the vessels devoid of any Cataphracts.

He stood with Triads Cresh, Besh, Herf, Esk, Forn and Leth in a circle around Triads Isk and Qek .

The central two Triads lead by Primus Qaman’xa of the Clergy, and Secundus Eirtaé Vor-Rue of Qek, a Yashuvhi with a deep Mystic talent, Isk and Qek focused on projecting their Auras into the vessels using carefully placed Kyber Crystals as ‘anchors’ on the ships.

The Vhal’Dan were quick in responding, their vessels' technological limitations made up for with numbers as the Sarils made moves as if to attempt an extremely dangerous lunar corridor micro jump.

The Kyrringa dropped from its own micro jump lase blazing and its complement spewing out.

<Cover us Nerf herder,> Taryn ordered,

The Vhal’dan tactical officers quickly picked up the five additional contacts as Taryn’s second wing of fighters were revealed.

Lydan, still sore from Sora’s beating, hit the accelerators to full, his wife, sister, Evyn and Evaea in his group of five Vorynx fighters, Maeson and Melron gripping onto the twins' hulls.

Lydan lead Aaea and Lyaea in a direct charge against the recently arrived frigate, Shikkar torpedoes surging ahead as the Twins used the Blackstone plate of the Vorynx fighters potential to the full cloaking it in their own Cloak of Shadow to make it all but invisible.

The Headhunters and Frigates cannons redirected to take out the torpedoes, by then Frostglave  was in firing range, the Sarils seeking its protective field of fire.

A 50 kilometer sphere of space became a cacophony of soundless blue and green energy fire, doonimum crunching missiles and dangerously fast evasive maneuvers. 

Hades canons and maser energised phirk magnetic accelerator cannons chewed through any headhunters they caught, the ten Aethan fighters weaving at incredible speed as their superhuman pilots require no interital dampers, genehanced bodies and ultradense fighter structures able to cope with extreme turns that would ruin lesser craft.

The Vhal’dan repsonsed with tight controleld forations, concentrating on overwhelming individual targets, their accuracy improving with each pass, peppering the Chiss Tri-Layer repulsors and breaching to lay heavy blows against the Blackstone hull.

Screeching dangerously close to the hull the Twins dropped Maeson and Melron onto the Frostglave’s underside boots mag locked with a heavy thud, the two men cracking durasteel plates open to hurl in implosion grenades, the running along the length of the vessel causing immersuable damage, too small for the headhunters to pick off it left the Corvette struggling to shake them free as the Twins cracked three headhunters moments after as they revealed their presence fully.

Ceaseless efforts of tactical officers to coordinate fire on the larger vessels forced Xani and Nyaea to pull back as their shields were lost, Adaea drove a Shikkar into the Kyrringa but tailed by headhunters couldn't’ guide the drill like torpedoes through critical systems.

<Frell it, follow my lead!> Taryn demande as the tide turned against them, they could rely on their superior shields and armour only so long.

Lydan swept in blasting two fighters off Nyaea’ tail to free them to join with Taryn on an attack run on the four Sarils covering each other with overlapping fields of fire.

<Silky come in on the flank, Nerf Herder down the middle full speed, we’ll cover,>

Expanding their shield radius Taryn, Oran and Jenaea covered Lydan, Lyaea and Adaea bursting head the aether pushing them faster than their sub-lights could, Evaea swept in covered by Evyn behind.

The Sarils carefully designed turrets spun round to open up on them, the expanded shield radius taking the hits as they lined up the four vessels.

All seven fighters unleashed their Hades cannons on the Saril’s, dozens of shots per second peppering them.  It gave away their exact position to the Vhal’Dan who were merciless in reprisal.

Taryn gritted his teeth as the tense moment dragged for weeks, rapid calculations in the mind of an experienced space tactician indicated his flight shields would last barely five seconds longer than the Saril’s. 

Nurhl expanded his presence through the meld Qaman’xa and Eirtaé Vor-Rue pojected with a last determined effort to reveal their ‘presence’ on the ships. 

The Aethans felt the life signs they had come to destroy finally revealed in what they thought was the panic of imminent death.

With a second wind, reaching the Bridge, Melron kicked in the transparisteel view screen of the Frostglave the astonished bridge crew slamming the blast covers, the doonium curtain slamming down before the atmosphere could vent dangerously,  but causing enough of a momentary shock to reduce their fire.

Six Shikkars sped at the Saril’s in tight curls as their shields began to buckles under intense megamaser fire, Evaea on the Flank adding her own two torpedoes perpendicular to the main launch as the women in the party projected with what concentration they could hexes and malefic curses on the Cataphract crew within.

Nausea and disorientation affected half the crew, enough that their counter fire destroyed only four of the torpedoes, the other four drilling into the assault transports, metal ribboning and heating orange hot at the impact of the ultradense material, the proton bomb cores of the Shikkar detonating moments after - cold blue white mini novae wrecking the ships on the rear and sides.

With grunted effort Qaman’xa cut the link to the orbiting Kyber crystals, the Cataphracts all around her grimacing and trembling from the effort of projecting their aura’s over thousands of kilometers.

Taryn felt elation as fifty two life signals winked out, some familiar to him from the Cataphracts previous engagements.

<That was him,> Evaea grunted confirming the Triarchs death even as she peeled away under heavy fire.

Two of the Sarils were completely destroyed, another venting so much atmosphere and beset by internal plasma fires it would be wreckage in moments, the fourth staggering along only the handful of crew in the now blast door sealed bridge alive, armour and equipment creating a rubble cloud that Lydan now bounced through.

<We need to get outta here!> Jenaea demanded, her danger sense as always trusted by the People absolutely as more Vhal’Dan fighters arrived from micro jumps, wings locking into attack positions determined to avenge the losses.
 
<Stealth drives on everyone pull out and micro jump, jobs done, not sticking around in this heat> Taryn ordered breaking away

The retreat was fast, messy and uncomfortable, Melron and Maeson barely grabbing onto Taryn ship before he jumped, the Vorynx fighters shields completely extinguished and much of the hull covered in carbon scoring by the time they got away.

<<<<>>>>

Logged

Lord_S_Gray

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."

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #295 on: November 10, 2021, 05:31:34 AM »

Chapter 46 — Oblivion Gray — Misdirections — Part 6
Ghosts of the Golan’s

“Come on…” Vask muttered as he tangled through wires and circuit boards.

Yorel’s Lupine strength and speed would buy them minutes -possibly seconds - enough for Mylinda and Jorl to get away and himself and Gerchon to try and disable the Interdictor Field.

But not much more.

He traced the braille marked wires and tugged them out where he needed - while the field was projected by dozens of spherical floating bulbs in space, they relied on navigational data from the Golan’s to remain in sync, damaging that he could force it to shut down as their tidal locks to each other were broken.

Grasping out another handful of wire he felt another Concrete
Yorel is dead. We need to run

“That’ll have to do,” he grunted, getting up as fast as his old back could straighten from the crouched position on the engineering deck.

Gerchon covering him was already moving, you don’t live 300 years by staying still.

“How long do we have?” the Feeorin asked with a hint of humour

“Not long enough,” was his reply as they pounded through the corridors trampling the odd body where their feet fell gracelessly.

Maker only knew what the thing hunting them was, and what it, or several like it, may have done on Galtea. 

While the fact Yorel could engage it for a time implied it was at least mortal and finite in its skills, the enormity of those abilities made it a threat they didn’t have time or resource to engage - worse they were trapped in its lair on the Golan.

They made straight for the hangars knowing there was no one and nothing here to saved - hoping the same could not be said of Galtea.

Irritation mixed with enjoyment as Kiraea swept through the corridors fast as darkness after her prey, tasting the desperation of their run on the aether that only added to the thrill of her inevitable victory.  Three of these Cata-fails down, three more to go, she’d already beaten everyone else's head counts and so easily too.

But more than that, if their intel was correct, killing the lanky guy with the docu-case mag locked to his wrist would put a sword through the Vhal’Dan’s best chance of recovery after the war.

She slid, skidded and spun through the narrowest of access corridors and tightest of gaps to make up their head start with Aethan speed.

Mylinda was within sight of the large air lok doors to the North Platforms when the wall exploded outward, a feminine figure in black shrouded by flecks of metal with an arrow nocked and primed aimed at her face.

Jorl’Taf shoved the Primus aside barely in time, the Oblivion arrow screamed through the air and scraped the side of Mylinda’s face plate, bouncing off and hitting Jorl’Taf himself in the cheek, slicing part of his face open.

He didn’t even stop, saber hissing alive he swung straight at the Oblivion fiend with saber and the case on his arm - composed of adamantium it may contain documents but it was damn good bludgeon.  The rpisote Oblivion blade scratched along the case proving it a useful shield too - far from a burden the wrist cuffed case was an aset.

Mylinda soon pushed in at the flank, the two Vhal’dan trying to voerwhelm the Shadow creature - it was hard to tell if they were making any progress, it moved so quickly and with such contortion they could barely tell if they were striking a limb or a head - all they knew was they were slowly losing.

A flare of pure blue force fire erupted from the black whorl of death, striking Jorl’Taf in the chest before Mylinda shouldered him painfully aside to take the blast, her Legacy armours force callous able to endure the Force base attack far better than the Ambassadors light tactical armour.

Jorl’Taf dropped and rolled, pushing the flames away with the Force as best he could feeling the hideous energy try to consume him. 

Mylinda now faced the Shadow alone once more, and far more fatigued than last time.

In barely three passes of her twin short swords Kiraea dominated the comparatively slow and clunky Cata-fail.  The Primus wove and struck where she could, but alone she was simply outmatched, her armour taking scratches and cuts but the score.

Yet a Cataphract was never alone.

“On your left!” Vask yelled behind her, Mylinda knowing the old man’s trick leaned left rather than right as the remainder of Triad Grek unleashed their arm cannons and micro missile at the shadow.
Kiraea bounced back on her heels rolling and sliding to avoid every single shot - but it gave the damn Cata-fails time to regroup.

Mylinda stood in between Gerchon and Vask, both fresh and determined to avenge Adrii, the battelmeld soothing Mylinda for her Triads loss and bringing her into a new Grek-Osk mix, the ambassador too partially recovering to rise on his long strong legs.

Four onto one - this will be fun Kiraea smiled viciously leaping straight at them, preceded by her last grenades, a micro-magma mine and her Oblivion arrows fired telekinetically.

Four blades met the onslaught, Fou minds acting as one to deflect shunt and protects from the explosions and bladed projectiles as swords and sabers met in the center in a furious whirl wind of cuts and curses, impacts ratchet through their arms a dozen a second as they clashed with the machine gun like oblivion swords raining upon them.

Flares of Force fire were met with telekinetic buffets form Gerchon and Jorl’Taf, Mental Thorns hammered out by Vask and Mylinda’s indomitable focus - they began to get their own back as Gerchon and Mylinda’ saber expertise on each flank limited Kiraea’ motion, and Vask and Jorl’Tafs sheer tenacity began to punch through.

They could barely see on the dark armour, but the damn beskar-breakers were cutting into her Mark II plate, irritated Kiraea summoned up the bodies and discarded tools and crates that littered the nearby hangar floor to hurl at the gang of Jedi that were trying to surround her.

Force to avoid the missiles gave her space to escape, hurling her last dagger into the Feeorin’s leg thee  she’d already sliced off a piece of legacy armour.

Gerchon grunted but nothing more.  They finally had the Shadows measure - that it took three experienced cataphracts and a Maenowan to do so was sobering to be sure, but the novelty and surprise with which she had wiped out half their number was gone.

Kiraea realised this too as she leapt from ruined ship to ship through the hangar bay, tempting them to follow.  She now saw the strength of the Cataphracts was their unity, three of them plus the lanky maenowan were too much...but that was their weakness too - if they lost just one Cataphract she would dissect the others swiftly.

Her thermal vision saw the burn in their bodies, precision sight noted the heaving respiration to their forms, she needed only to drain their pathetic stamina a little more.

Shadows don’t get tired Vask concrete thought sounded through the battlemed like a gong shattering any thought they could wear her down with numbers.

There was nothing to be won here, and only death if they stayed.

As one they began the covered sprint to their ships, Beskar breakers in high guard alternating with shots from their arm mounted cannons.

Kiraea responses was destructive, she created a gauntlet of explosions on already shattered parked vessels and Oblivion arrows criss crossing their path - a gauntlet of flame and shadow their sabers and protection of each other kept at bay.

The Aethan swung down from the overhead cargo rails to take cuts at them every few second, more and more lacerations and burst of ablative plasma amidst the furore.

The Sarils were just up ahead as Vask blocked another swipe aimed at the Ambassadors neck while cringing through an explosion to the side.

Trap he was certain to pivot painfully at the last second before their ship blew up in front of them with a wave of heat that felt almost a pleasant contrast to the dead cold of the Golan.

Desperation briefly coursed through the meld till another certainty hit Vask’s spine
Not enough explosives or time… the Shadow could only trap Grek’s ship, Osk was still fine!

Kiraea doubled her offensive slide tackling Gerchon off his feet, his wounded legs nearly buckling Mylinda arm and kinetic props keeping him upright, Girl’Taf felt his skin crisp under the heat from the plasma fire sof Greks ship as he cut another Oblivion arrow away from hitting Vask’s back.

The old human dove into the remaining Saril lander, scrambling to the cockpit, Gerchon just behind turned to guard the entry as Kiraea slammed down racing at them.

Gerchon, Mylinda ad Jorl’Taf once more found themselves weathering a storm of perfectly time cuts and acrobatic kicks and punches that were leaving them purple and green under their armour as the Saril booted up.

Kiraea was so very close, sweeping under one beskar beaker, leaping over another, then driving her sword into the chest plate of the Feeorin who staggered back, her knee lifting to slam into the Ambassadors side kicking him into the Saril further, his head snapping back at the wrong moment to hit a support causing blood to spray from his nose.

BACK!” Mylinda yelled with all the Will Force her anger and grief at the losses could muster.

Against her own will Kiraea staggered back, her swords still on guard, the break just enough for the Saril to rise, Mylinda pulling Gerchon in fully and slamming the door to close.

Quickly recovering Kiraea swept up her bow and fired her arrows straight into the engines of the Saril even as Vask punched it, the ultraadense weapons piercing and drilling into the doonium seeking out the core systems.

The Saril sputtered as it reached the shimmering blue atmo-shield, he could feel the Shadow controlling the nefarious arrows lodged in the hull then buckled as incredibly the Shadow used raw telekinetic power to try to implode the ship. 

The walls began to crack inwards, controls began to spark as Kiraea reached out to break the ship with the Aether her fingers curling into fists as if imitating giant hands crushing the ship.

“Shavit!” Vask yelled as he slammed the hyperdrive on a blind jump.

A backwash of pseudo motion displacement sent Kiraea tumbling backward, her sheer weight causing her to leave a massive dent in the tug she slammed into as the Saril vanished into the void.

She was up barely a second later, for the first time taking a full assessment of the energy he had expended not managing to kill the Knights.

“Frell,” she sniffed indignant before stalking off.

<<<<>>>>

Calm Before the Storm

“Three is exceptional,” Jarys said proudly as his wife twitched under Kassyndra’s administrations.

“Six would’ve been bet...,” Taryn quipped
he hadn’t finished his sentence when Lyaea slapped him in the back of the head,
“OW!”

For the first time in months the entire People were together, assembled on the Aephordaea before the final push.

They would liberate Saani K’aval, destroy D’Aklon and his cronies, and secure the wealth of holocrons, artefacts, Kyber crystals, research, and technology of the Vhal’dan. 

And with the Cataphracts dead and scattered there was no longer any force that could stop them.

Final repairs were made on Mark 2 armour. Swords and arrows of Blackstone sharpened to a near molecular edge. 

Blood runes were repainted on skin, totems and fetishes imbued with protective and offensive powers restored.

Body gloves, well worn at the joints were slipped on, Oblivion plate reclasped, bows, sword and Hades weapons humming with refilled charges clipped onto back and hip mag fixtures.

With cool detachment Ari reassembled her sabers at the workbench of the armoury as the others headed out one by one once rearmed.  Every moment her mother was held prisoner was a moment she might be lost forever, but the intensity of the hormonal surges the Technocracy had designed her genes to produce in just such instances kept her mind ice clear, knowing she needed the full force of the People.

Piece by piece they had dismantled D’aklon’s forces, leaving it a writhing limbless lump awaiting only it’s head to be severed. 

Then finally her parents would be safe...from Anson if not themselves. 

Such was the extent, and limited scope of Aethan filial responsibility.

A flick of her thumbs and both blades snapped on glowing purple, the power cells fully charged and capacitors replaced. They were strong as the day she had first made them with Saani.

Clasping them to her belt her hand swept passed the palm sized belt box containing her marble sized link orbs, the utter absence of any presence in the red one that sat closest to her belt buckle tearing her from her focus.

“Promise me you’ll go back to this girl you have feelings for, that the two of you won't waste another moment apart or at odds when life is so short and so precious, catch every precious moment together like your Father and I have”

Ari was determined to abide by her mothers advice, not because she had promised Saani - important as that was - Ari couldn’t live a moment longer than necessary without Milaea knowing how much she loved her.

This war had caused a schism between them, physically and emotionally, that she needed to heal as soon as she could.

She just hoped Milaea felt the same.

“Of course she does,” Kiraea unnoticed startled the younger woman, sliding over to wrap her arms protectively around Ari’s neck and kiss her cheek.

“You two seemed to be the only ones who couldn’t see how much you wanted each other...” Kiraea complained slipping off to lean against the armour locker
“It was getting annoying,” she smirked

Ari nodded sadly
“Milaea was right...about everything...this has gone too far, my father he…” she shook her head not wanting to admit outloud the sour truth of what Kazic had become, for it simply validated every hateful stereotype Kiraea had taught her about Outsiders.

“We will end the threat to their lives, get what was promised to us then...I need to go back to Milaea straight away,” Ari’s voice regained its comspure.

Kiraea nodded approvingly, finally breaking Ari’s trust in Outsiders, and her adoptive Frellick-face-father no less, was a substantial victory for Karintha, Valens and Kiraea’s vision of the People, Ari and Milaea’s pairing an equally valuable step forward.

The last of her weapons locked to her armour, Kiraea took Ari’s arm as they walked to the hangar.

“Just you wait love, you and Mili will be under, over and all around the Ursus rugs in no time!”
Ari’s heart squeezed a little too hard from Kiraea’s infectious enthusiasm for the younger woman's love life, mental images of Kiraea’s imaginings unconcealed in the Aethan group thought. 

The entirety of the People were waiting for her divided into their teams - though all in full armour and to any other observer statue like figures of deepest black, she could tell each one from the subtle differences in their posture.

The loose confident lean of Taryn on a Vorynx fighter that Lyaea lay back on as if on a strane holo-shoot, Selaena’s ferocious protective stance over and behind the barely containable enthusiasm of Xanea, Lydan sitting calmly beside Adaea as she tinkered with some new invention to pass the time, Evaea as always taking up minimal space and light, her twin brother Evyn more exposed turned toward Nyaea who shied away with her shoulder but leaned toward him with her hips.

Maeson hefted his Hades repeater in one hand, cradled Jenaea’s waist in the other, Kassyndra and old Melron reliable and steady holding the center, Oran and Maekal polar opposites, the first humble and concerned about the others existing injuries, the latter arrogant and seeking as many heads as he could carry to lay at Eva’s feet.


Ever curious Yorna was flipping through an appropriated Vhal’Dan text upside down looking for secret messages, while her uncle Taran stood firm as a mountain behind Karintha, the Matriarch dominating the centre of the group prepared to unleash her ferocious Tribe on the world below, led by the men on either side of the ruling couple Jarys and Valens who had orchestrated the utter ruination of the once mighty Vhal’Dan.

They had come here for Her - to protect and to avenge her - resources, experience and technology they sought were a reward but not the motivation.

And she had come here to protect her Mother and Father, Ari couldn't have done it without them, she just hoped Kazic appreciated the risk they had taken, and the sacrifices Ari herself had made for his benefit.

“Thank You...all of you...for…” she could barely express how much it meant they were on the verge of ending Anson’s threat to her parents.

“We are one People,” Karintha quickly assured her holding the young women’s shoulders
“No thanks is needed in protecting our own...Now, let us finish this war,”

<<<<<>>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

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."

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #296 on: November 10, 2021, 05:33:56 AM »

Chapter 46 — Oblivion Gray — Misdirections — Part 7

Sora
Pain, heat and hate run cold through her veins.

Ancient battle armour, crapped and damaged but infused with the memory of war was slowly regenerated from its wrecked state into a countless amount of nano units to comprise her new….no longer armour the Scientists and Engineers informed her - but body.

Already subject to experiments on cybernetic grafting and neuro-nanite interfaces, one more procedure was nothing.

Sora hung suspended over the pool of Advanced Dover Catalyst Nanites, built in part from molecularised ancient pieces of otherwise irreparable Cataphract Armour it would not suffer the same fate of her previous nanites, its Force Callous was estimated to be 75 per cent effective against Electric Judgement - it would be near invulnerable to the disintegration Aresaea K’aval had inflicted upon her last time.

She was slowly lowered in, the nanties forming from a mass of black-grey sand into a living form that covered her, forming in accordance with the neuo-nanites in her somatosensory cortex into a vast body, 

The Nanites were both body and armour now, the ancient plate in microscopic form covering her entirely, able to morph into a hair thin blade, or a chest sized hammer at her whim.

The metal itch was intense, far worse than before.

But Ksorallyne Apus was Hamask

She bore pain.

She would endure.   

She would Destroy.

<<<<>>>>


Ghosts of the Golan’s

“Hyperdrive is busted…comms are out...” Vask sighed slouching in the hold where the others had replaced their armour with bacta patches and intravenous medi-drips.
“But sublights should get us to Galtea on overdrive...in a few weeks…”

“We should run into a patrol before then…” Mylinda tried to be positive although given the Golan’s were virtually abandoned…

“By the Exalted...what was that thing…” Gerchon croaked out, referencing the Eldest and strongest of his Feeorin species who traditionally ruled the others.

“Mortal, that is what matters…” Vask replied finally sitting down fully, the tense weight of his armour relieved at last.

“If it bleeds it can die,” Gerchon gruffly laughed

“There are many questions…” the Ambassador confirmed, idly tossing his comm link, broken in the fighting, aside, then held the case close to his chest.

“...but I suspect these documents, the agreement with Zilior...is now more important than ever,”  he finished grimly as the Saril continued its slow advance.

<<<<<>>>>

Nurhl

In a meditative pose he sat in the very centre of the rounded Seclusiam, breath slowly drawing in and out as Durandal hovered unassembled in the air before him, the golden crystal at is heart gleaming in the dim faux-candlelight of the near sacred space.

With practiced familiarity he slid the components of the sword of his ancestors back into place, the snap hiss of its blazing light filling the chamber briefly before deactivated it floated into his double handed grip as he stood, gazing up to the adamantium gaze of the mighty Saril Baz-Rhadde.

The founder of the Cataphracts as they existed now had faced his hardest test on the cursed fields of Ruusan four centuries before.  He had lived, gone on place the foundation stones of the Order that In mere hours Nurhl would fight to protect. 

Nurhl felt the strength of his ancestor in the armour they both wore, passed down through the generations, earned by bloody determination not lineage, but all the stronger for the blood tie.   Before the Triad a Catapahracts first trio of connections was to his Sword and Armour, the unity of the body, plate and blade essential to make the Warrior whole physically.

These connected Past, Present and Future as the legacy weapons and armour were passed down.  For Nurhl the Past was fixed in stone all around him, the Present was the blood in his veins.  The Future of the Cataprhacts and the Vhal’Dan - that was what he fought to ensure. 

The Shadows were murderers and thieves, anarchist psychopaths with the strength of demi-gods and the capriciousness of unweaned pups. Ovarug damned himself beyond redemption by allying with such.

It was no exaggeration to consider the upcoming battle a contest of Order against Chaos, Civilization against Savagery, Loyalty against Teachery.

Nurhl was proud to fight on the side of Honour and Nobility.

The vast doors behind opened and he smelt the familiar cinnamon tones of Ravra beside the more musky intensity of Alfa, his fellow Cathars.

“The Troika stands ready Triarch,” The Primus of Triad Esk informed him.

Taking up his helm he clasped it on with a hermetically sealed hiss, knowing it would not be removed except by force or in victory.

He felt the whisper of Saril’s stern determination flow through him as he stride toward the Primus’, pausing briefly before his fellow Cathar, reaching out to place a hand on each of their foreheads as the bowed in deference - not to his rank, but to the respect they held for him as leader and Alpha of the Den.

Malja watan” he spoke in a whisper that echoed through the Seclusiam

‘May you always find home’ – the ancient and revered injunction passed from the time of Revan till today among Cathar - and that was what he found in this trio, in his Troika, in the Vhal’Dan and on Galtea.

This he would defend with all his life and soul.

Malja watan”  Ravra and Alfa echoed, knowing this was the last time together these words of honour would pass between them.

Together they stepped from the Seclusiam and into the War.

<<<<>>>>

Anson

“...of the seven survivors…” the static distorted voice of the Fleet Admirals said solemnly
“None were Cataphracts,”

Anson leaned back in the cheap durasteel chair, half the Collegium present in the meeting room on Lus’Phor, industrial and simple; it had been intended for the Mining operations teams not the leadership of the Vhal’Dan order.

Of the Council present a third were aghast at the news, Two Tribii and the Triarch of the Cataphracts killed in the latest fighter raid - nineteen of their Cataphracts gone in an instant - of the 36 they had started the war with 6 were locked out of system on other missions, and 21, including Nurhl Båz-Rhadde himself, were dead.

Anson D’Aklon carefully noted the dispositions of each member of his ‘loyal Council’ to the news.  There would be consequences for their disloyal thoughts once this was over.

“Thank you Admiral, I will contact you soon,”

After a deadly silence Master Marc-Andr Drevifv spoke up

“Kage, the Cataphracts have proven, thus far, to be the only effective counter to Kazic’s Shadows Warriors on the ground, this loss…fundamentally alters the strategic balance,”

“The Loss is great,” Anson agreed
“But our will remains firm, we will lure the enemy to us and crush them on Lus’phor,”

Inside Anson was struggling to contain his glee at Nurhls genius, while Anson’s Flow Sight had identified the moments of opportunity, the Triarch had exploited them with utter perfection - this would not only allow them to Ambush Kazic’s monsters to enormous effect, but also expose the disloyal among Ansons own side.

“Kage perhaps we should consider….”

Before Drevifv could utter something treasonous an alarm sounded, a Sentinel by the door bowed his head speaking into his helmet comm then swiftly moved to the Kage’s side whispering.

“Its seems, honoured Maenowans, our time has come,”

Rising strong and sure, Anson stood, hand gently but very obviously placed on his saber hilt.

“This Chaos ends today,”

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

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."

TheDutchman
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Force Alignment: 1106
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Avatar courtesy of For Tyeth


« Reply #297 on: November 12, 2021, 05:00:06 PM »

And so the war continues...

The inclusion of the different theatres of war (in this case: the Golan II weapon platforms) is further indication of Valens' tactical brilliance: after all, they are responsible for the defense of the Galtea System itself, covering the lone hyperspace lane and only means of safe egress (of course, with the Marcol Void, blind jumps are possible...but definitely NOT recommended...).  No wonder that he tasked Kiraea with assassinations for anyone unlucky enough to work/occupy/visit the Golans; aside from being frightfully effective, she's also incredibly thorough.  The fact that she was able to fight off an entire Triad (AND an additional maenowan) is testament to her danger.  Conversely, between Mylinda, Gerchon, and Vask, they proved their own mettle for their Triarch and their Kage.  Speaking of...

The fact that both Anson and (especially) Nurhl understand that terrible sacrifice for tactical benefit is sometimes the only option shows their leadership as well as their fortitude.  Nurhl has quickly become one of my favorites: not only as a fleshed-out character (of course, this story is replete with them e.g. details like Vask's "Concretes" or Mylinda's Voice to name but two) but also as someone who is NOT a villain but rather a soldier/leader/father/friend defending what he believes in.  In short: the Pride of the Vhal'Dan^^

This is certainly best exemplified by the multiple Cataphracts introduced in these last few chapters.  Reading them in situ is such a pleasure, one can feel the sorrow of each loss and the celebration of each win.  I had to admit: that reading this has inspired me to create a few more characters in my own writing, and that has everything to do with LSG's exceptional storytelling  Smiley

Another favorite: seeing Taryn in action.  His experience as a literal space-pirate gives him a distinct advantage compared to most of the People.  The fact that he fell to the ruse that Nurhl implemented in no way detracts from his skill (especially in light of the more metaphysically-oriented Cataphracts projecting their presence in the Sarll ships).  Moreover, this is an excellent juxtaposition between the two sides...and as with all things in war, no one is without blood on their hands.

Oh, and teasing us with Sora was just icing on the proverbial cake  Wink

Meta-note: LSG's writing is incredible, especially considering just how well it dovetails what had been written years ago^^  But the real treat here HAVE to be the details: so many easter eggs and 3-dimensional characterization that only continues to add to my eagerness in reading these chapters (indeed, the entire RotA story)!

BRILLIANT  Smiley

Logged

Sig courtesy of DarthScrub

Cataphract Triarch of the Vhal'Dan

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

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
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Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #298 on: January 18, 2022, 05:49:17 AM »

Chapter 47 — Oblivion Gray — Aut simul stabunt, Aut simul cadent — Part 1

Deployment — 1 Hour Before the Lus’Phor Holocaust

“They know no fear,”
 
Micromissiles locked into launchers, blasters thrummed with charge, power armour mechanisms ensconced beneath their heavy plate whirred.
 
“They will not be intimidated, they will not retreat,”
 
Storied Zweihanders, many dating back to the New Sith War, were given final sharpening, each blade had accumulated as much personality as its wielders as they passed through the generations.
 
“Our tactics will neither surprise nor confound them,”
 
Saril Transports sped low and fast over the northern poles of Galtea, Primus of Triad Besh Jelan Ya’Qul loading his custom Sulen Gauss rifle with military precision, Ravra exuding calm and confidence to the Tribus deployed to Hephaestus Base,  a steady low growl in Primus Ostooloruu Wuurich throat.
 
“Our strength will not overpower them, our speed will not out manoeuvre them, our armour will not slow them,”   
 
On Lus’Phor the second Tribus positioned quickly and quietly in the dark purple of the crystal caverns mined long ago for their precious Kyber, primed to ambush the inevitable rescue attempt on Saani K’aval.
 
Primus Alfalex Nåj Withstr carefully parsed through his tactical scenarios with his Triad, Corellian Cresh  endless banter relaxed that Triad, the Clergy Meditated in a small huddle building metaphysical defences in preparation.
 
 “They have slain hundreds, friends and family, desecrated their bodies for foul necromancy and magick.  Their assassins and heavy units have known no defeat against our Shadows, Sentinels, Armoured Infantry…”
 
30 Cataphracts, a full Troika deployed in three Tribii at each location, Sora, Vilyhyn Soban and the Triarch himself.
 
The latter two stood in the heart of the Seclusiam, the Holocron of Xinis’zo on a pedestal surrounded by the mighty warriors of old carved into the walls. Here Nurhl would defend his ‘Den’ using the artefact to lure two of the three strongest of the Shadow Warriors  as Anson had foreseen - the so called ‘Beast’ and the ‘Blade’.
 
Agemean Villados and Triad Qek, the strongest now Aurek had been broken, would have his back, while Triads Leth under the vicious Behrn, and Forn lead by the inexorable Kall-jeq Masbes would deal with whoever else dared intrude. 
 
“But they have never…” Nurhl finished as the full force of Cataphract’s, Sora the lone Hamask ever the exception - but such was the nature of her essential role - settled their minds into the Battle-meld, the Force knowing no distance though their bodies were far apart.
 
“…faced the full force of a Troika.”
 
A positive synergy flowed through each member enhancing their co-ordination and effectiveness by drawing on all their specialities.  Multiplied further across the entire Troika, the Force and neuro-nanites that used quantum networks connected them in a way unlike their Vhal’dan brethren.
 
Final checks were done, helmet seals hissed locking in place.
 
In the North the landers banked hard toward an otherwise unremarkable thin crust of ice, glass like fragments thrown up as their ships spec’d to high density atmospheric insertion headed beneath the Northern Seas.
 
On Lus’Phor mines were activated, trip wires sprung to life, cover positions nestled into.
 
At ‘Nurhls Den’ the ever changing passages of the Labyrinthine Istic fortress were supplemented by double the number of automated defences, Vaults were sealed, murderous traps around the Nimati Plains activated along with surface to Space Weaponry.
 
 “Today we fight the Abominations risen from the Abyss for the One TRUE Kage D’Aklon, for the Vhal’Dan Order, and most of all for the Honour and Mateship of those in your Triad…”
 
Nods, shoulder nudges and a variety of other idiosyncratic pre battle bonding activities occurred across the nine Triads, a vast diversity of species, beliefs and skills, combined in perfect harmony harnessing those differences as tools to defend the home and family that embraced and valued them all against a Monocultural Xenophobic and intolerant force that viewed such multi-racialism as abominable.
 
Feeling the rumble of the beaked transports against the ever higher pressure deep ocean waters though he was thousands of kilometers away, hearing the footsteps of approaching enemies on Lus’Phor despite being on the planet below the moon Nurhl began in sonorous tone the ancient Call and Response of the Cataphracts.
 
“We serve the Maker”
 
The Force is Our Shield” The Troika replied with unified conviction, even accounting for the varigate beliefs of Qaman’xa, atheism of the Lorrdian Al’Marq, spiritualist tendancines of Chimi and ancestral/nature worship of Wuurich. Their diversity was another steel rod in the bundle of their strength.
 
“We honor Our Ancestors” Nurhl gripped the Zweihander Durandal wielded by his blood ancestors, Balmung in Villados hands from her forebears as Primus of Triad Qek, and Caladbolg Soban’s bespoke blade forging a new legacy.
Their swords now our own
 
“We protect the Vhal'Dan”
We are their Armour
 
The last of the Dover Catalyst had been used filling their armours reserves, the rest given over to scientists for Sora’s reconstruction. The ancient plates that had seen the hot sun of Ruusan in the Sith wars polished and gleaming ready to face an enemy the likes of which had never been imagined in those times. 
 
“We fight for our Triad!”
Minds and bodies are ONE!
 
Three worked as one in a Triad, Nine worked as One in a Tribus, Twenty Seven worked as One in a Troika.   
 
“…We bring justice and retribution to the enemies of the Vhal’Dan! For the KAGE” he finished with bullish vigour
 
One voice from twenty nine vocal and telepathic communication organs bellowed a firm and unsupressable reply.
 
“FOR THE KAGE”

<<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

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."

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #299 on: January 18, 2022, 05:50:19 AM »

Chapter 47 — Oblivion Gray —  Aut simul stabunt, Aut simul cadent — Part 2
Infiltration — 55 Minutes Before the Lus’Phor Holocaust
>>>>Galtea - Northern Polar Expanse - Hephaestus Base<<<<
“Confirm breach Ensign,”

“Breach confirmed Commander,”

Maenowan Tisshant Jou stood at the centre of the small but highly advanced Security Control Room deep within Hephaestus Base. A vast hololith screen before him as the four members of the observation team checked on the breach to an ice sheet far to the south.

Built into the wall of a deep ocean trench that overlooked a frothing sea floor spread crack in the mantle whose bubbling magma provided warmth and geothermal power.  He had been assigned to control this highly classified weapons and Force Research base after being injured some four months prior.

His newly grafted left leg still twitched on occasion, the vat grown organs part of an experimental program to develop better organ replacements rather than utilize cybernetics…primarily because some three months before that a number of factories producing grafting circuits and micro motors had been destroyed by the Anzat Traitors Animals.

“We are not detecting any further movement nearby Commander…broadening sensor sweep permission to activate second ring sensors,”

The base operated on minimal power and absolutely avoided activating any of the sensors unless necessary as they could not completely prevent stray electromagnetic waves dispersing, even though the 3 kilometres of water flecked with iron from the sea geysers did much to scuttle it.

“Granted.”

He kept a keen eye on the screens…something felt amiss…his leg twitched once more…

He had been left for dead by one of the Shadows, or as he preferred to call them, Animals that had turned the tide for the false Kage.  It had burst into his bivouac while he slept, like Fe’nrir himself it had ravaged his Teidowan with its bare hand before turning on him…

Stumbling from sleep he had time enough to light his saber and managed a glancing blow on its ‘shoulder’ before a slash of darkness cut fast and cold through just under his hip.

By then the rest of the Platoon was alerted and the Animal had simply left him for dead as it retreated from the hail of blaster fire that tore the bivouac apart.

Too injured to return to the front lines, he accepted this assignment when the Kage personally offered it to him with pride, knowing the innovations and prototypes being developed here would not only help win this war but safeguard the Vhal’Dan into the future.

“Anything?” He inquired.

“No sir,”

“Deactivate the sensors,” he tapped his commlink flicking to the Engineering channel

“Shesh 4-9-0” he began with the authorisation code signalling his authority
“Reduce generators to minimum confirm,”

“Confirm,” the chief engineer replied turning from his desk and jogging the short distance across the wide face of the magma pipes that pulled in not only raw heat but liquefied metals that the small foundry used in 3d printing to produce the often idiosyncratic devise the science team required.

At the main control board he began shutting down the secondary and tertiary feeds…

WHOOOP WHOOOP

“What the…” his assistant cried

“Pipe blockage Tertiary line…”

He turned back utterly perplexed “Where?”

She traced the flow indicator lights on the holo…

“right…right there…” she pointed to the 12 metre diameter pipe of Adamantium and high grade ceramic that took in raw magma.

As they shared a stunned look the side of the pipe began to turn orange with heat.

Wide eyed with astonishment he looked at the main control board – according to it there was no flow of magma…the temperatures registered only a relatively cool 741 degree kelvin….

“What in the Shavit storm seas…”

The orange turned yellow…then white…

Then black as the void as a hand wrenched the pipe open from within.

<<<<>>>>
>>>>Galtea - Nimati Plains - Istic Fortress ‘Nurhls Den’<<<<
Merciless as it was comprehensive, Megamaser fire rained from orbit upon Camp Rhadde, home of the Cataphracts.

Vast shimmering shields of blue quivered with electrostatic howls, shockwaves stripped  trees outside the camps shielded radius of their needle leaves.

Master Gray Vilhynn Soban stood unmoved on the Ground he had chosen to be his Last as Istic Fortress, heart of Camp Rhadde, termed in muttered whispers among the Cataphracts ‘Nurhls Den’ shook at the intensity of the bombardment.

Inertial dampers built into the foundations ensured the vast fortress remained largely unmoved and he knew with absolute certainty the bombardment would do no real damage.

The Prizes that lay behind the Kortosis Door - carved elegantly into an image of two Cataphracts with crossed Zweihanders blocking further entrance - were of too great a value to the enemy to risk being damaged.

His HUD linked in to the Fortresses Defensive network showed exactly the sequence of events he had predicted. 

The Megamaser fire was concentrated around the Fortress, slowly overcoming the Geo-Shields capacity to resist.

How these Shadow had obtained Chiss technology didn’t matter, that it had taken several weeks to identify it as such though did.

That delay had caused thousands to die.  Even now the shields across the entire fleet and army were not capable of resisting the unique weapons forged in the Unknown Regions effectively, frequencies had been adjusted as much as possible, but the raw fact was the hardware was not up to the task of countering the kinetic impact the Chiss maser weapons delivered.

Shields broke after 3 minutes of sustained bombardment, the idle statistics showed it had taken 32 orbital impacts to break them.

Soban felt pride in the staff, the latest scenarios had suggested it could only take 25 hits, they had adapted and altered frequencies on the fly to gain precious seconds.

His heart near seized in grief at the reward that awaited them as he kept his eyes on a  live feed of the long range scanners, wondering if they would attack via aerial or ground transport.

Thirty more contacts flashed to life, digits barey keeping pace as they calculated the speed - each hurtling directly down from orbit at 250 kmph in a board ring about to slam into the domed training fields around Istic and…

By Vahl…. 

Ten were headed directly to the fortress!

If they were the same Oblivion rods unleashed on Vhal’Udhav in the opening salvos it would demolish the entire forretress, even the Vault Soban stood before would be at risk from the collapse of rubble.

If that is how I die… Soban knew this was his last day in this lifetime, content and calm.

With equal tranquility five Aethans closed in Orbital Insertion Pods fell to the surface at speeds that should kill them outright.

Istic fortress was too well defended to attack by air or ground, so they would crash directly through the roof from space.

Anit-aircraft fire blasted the oblivion rods easily enough, but with the aether to the Aethans were able to maneuver their Orbital Drop pods just in time.

With grinding scrapes of doonium on durasteels that burned orange and yellow the pods crashed through the upper levels of Istic fortress, gears of the ever changing corriors crumpling, traps detonating prematurely.

The vibrations echoing through his limbs Soban gripped his Zweihander Caladbolg for the last time, his knuckles white against skin artificially aged by his genetic condition - his blessing that had made him taller and more muscular than ny of his fellow Vahl - his curse that meant those same muscles and larger organs could barely be supported by bones and ligaments meant for a more lithe frame ageing them too quickly and leaving him in constant pain only relieved by the steady flow of anesthetic drugs built into his armour.


There was another rumble two dozen stories above, the mighty spires of Istic fortress now belching dust and smoke as the bombardment died down.  He could almost see the Orbital drop pods open to unleash the Oblivion hordes.

Biting back the endless bile caused by the pain suppressants digestive side effects he grimly stood his ground.

<<<<>>>>

>>>>Lus’Phor - Nishalorite Veins<<<<

The universe seemed a tunnel with a single blue tinged face at one end, any object that blocked the image of Saani ‘Kaval for more than a moment was a mere impediment to be removed.

Aresaea was -to her ultra-focused mind - simply ‘walking forward’ toward her captured mother who bled pain in the aether. 

In reality she was navigating the seemingly endless twisting caverns of Lus’phors Nishalorite Vein, a vast section on the southern pole of the moon where Kyber crystals attuned to magnetic field were mined.

The galleries were carved as winding criss crossing labyrinths dictated by Force sages decades earlier who had plotted out how best to reach the Kyber deposits through the moons hard rock with minimal disturbance the large Kyber clusters, necessitating digging under, around and then over Kyber bodies to slowly pry pieces loose over he years.

Anson’s engineers had done what they could to secure the tunnels, but with limited time and resources the traps, kill zones and obstacles they had put in place were barely a consideration.

With detached clarity Ari tore a half tonne buffer stop on a formerly used mag-track with her mind leaving the soldiers scuttling out of their vanished cover snapping off blaster shots.  her purple sabes flew from her hands straight into them, spinning fast enough to appear solid discs of energy they sliced them down in seconds.

The handful of knights still at the location now J’Nessah Raanh and Pytir Danisen had left darted from rocky alcoves sabers blazing tremor swords vibrating.

With the fluidity of a glacial stream Ari spun into a crouch, her elbows and palms hammering into the Knights legs with femur shattering strength, her sabers returning to her hands through their shoulder and thigh joints leaving them aching and screaming on the ground.

Ari ran on, behind her Maekal finished off the petulant impure creatures with gleeful stomps, collecting more sabers for his budding collection.

Behind him were Karintha, Yorna and Lyaea, the five of them the nominal ‘rescue party’ for Saani, but Ari hardly needed any help.

They were here to support Valens in finishing off Anson D’Aklon and his Council of Maenowans then securing the stores of Kyber crystals on the moon before Ovarug’s cronies could hide them away - the perfidious Anzat - Karintha was certain - was hiding resources and artefacts from them.

<Take the route round to ensure Ari is not impeded> Karintha ordered the arrogant young male, Maekal wasted no time racing down a side gallery to clear it of any Vhal’Dan, his skills had markedly improved over the course of the war, even if his attitude hadn’t.

Yorna ran a hand along the chisel chipped walls of the dark caverns lit only by battery yellow lumens, feeling the presence of the crystals long since mined - and their potential.  Whilst Blackstone, Bloodstone and the other Ultradense minerals of Aethas were able to store far more Aether energies and better attuned to Aethan powers, Kyber crystals were drastically more plentiful in comparison and could provide a quantity of enchanted offensive and defensive tools their preferred materials could not.

With the Kyber stores, Holocron of Xinis’zo, and technology and research from Hephaestus base the People would have harvested enough riches in addition to the experience gained fighting Gray Jedi to make this expedition more profitable than even Dathomir, and continue her run of successes as Matriarch.

“This is sooooo easy,” Lyaea complained even as a hidden Silver leapt from above, without much effort she caught the wrist that held the saber, spun the Silver to the ground and with her dense bodies weight stomped the chest inward.

“Obviously a trap,”

Karintha had to agree, they had maneuvered around Ansonite patrols and landed without incident, they knew they would come for Saani.

“A trap become a pitched battle when you know it’s coming,” Karintha replied her eyes nver leaving Ari as they moved swiftly round another corner, the cold focus of the younger woman matched only by the fatality of the kinetic balsts she hurled into the chest of the handful of soldiers ahead, breaking them almost in half before they could raise weapons.
 

“He’s here….” Maekal interrupted thirty meters away drawing his blade from another body the Teidowan twitching still

“the Anathema himself!”

“Maekal no,” Yorna said quickly, only Valens and Jarys were to challenge D’Aklon or his Triarch Baz-Rhadde to single combat - the recent near defeats against the Cataphracts further validated that strategy.

Lyaea was less cautious tapping across on her HUD a new playlist for the arrogant young man

“Go get em Vorynx, no human is your equal,”

Whether her tone was sincere or sarcastic Karintha couldn’t tell and Makeal didn’t care as the stirring rhythm filled his senses through his helmet speakers.

“Yes...yes...we are the Princes -nay Gods of the Universe.” he rose fist clenched in an over dramatized stance of dominance

“I will slay the Tyrant-Fiend D’Aklon, avenge Areasaea and lay his skull before the beauteous Lady Evaea!”

With a shrug of more irritation that disappointment Karintha did not intervene to stop the arrogant young man rushing off. 

Ari ignored the whole scene.  She could feel Saani’s pain, the torment being inflicted, it was a blazing pyre that drew her forward. Her eyes briefly spun to Security camera hidden in a gap between a ceiling support and the rock. 

On the other side a woman more machine than flesh glared at her approach with a mix of rage and anticipation.

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

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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