Dark Renascence

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to FT once again for his visual assist with D'Aylanna!  This chapter is dedicate to him 
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Chapter 8: Whispers To A Scream, part III
...Cortosis lined… D’Aylanna thought unnecessarily, her lightsaber sputtering uselessly in her hands.  With the passage and loss of every second, she felt more panicked.  ...Stop this…do something…!.  Trusting her instincts, she acted.  Clipping her hilt to her belt, she fully opened herself to the Force, her Senses flooding the area.

Powered by the Force, D’Aylanna became a blur as she covered the distance from the middle of the hallway towards its end in mere seconds, the remaining opening beneath the blast door and the deck becoming frightfully smaller.

That’s when she felt a shudder through the Force, her Senses alerted to the most miniscule of minutiae.  ...the floor…!

Once again, she acted by instinct.

Crouching down into a ball and powered by the Force, D’Aylanna exploded forward kicking her legs against the floor a split second before it opened up, exposing darkened wide tubes extending downwards without any visible bottom.  Without losing a newton of force or momentum, she shot forward parallel to the floor with the ceiling still quickly descending.

Seconds stretched as her body soared over the vast now floorless hallway, D’Aylanna hoping that she would cover the distance to the doorway.  In the space between those seconds, she could’ve sworn that she heard a roaring yell but could neither locate nor identify it.

Making herself as small as possible D’Aylanna flew through the ever-closing gap between the deck and the blastdoor, the heel of her armored boot catching the descending door, tripping her up.

Tucking her head, she balled herself up as the blastdoor slammed shut with a note of finality (or had it been two sounds?  She couldn’t readily tell).

Unceremoniously, she rolled across the deck of the dimly lit room that she’d escaped into, finally able to halt much of her forward momentum before crashing hard into the far wall.  Even though her armor mitigated the worst of the damage she felt sudden pain erupt in her left shoulder as her arm dislocated.

Gritting her teeth, she muffled a scream before it left her lips.  For several seconds, she did not stir instead laying on her back while she tried to regulate her ragged breathing.

...Get…up… She commanded, willing herself to go on.  She knew what she must do.

Mentally fortifying herself, D’Aylanna slowly got to her feet and, looking around, dragged herself over towards a jutting support beam that ran along the bulkhead.  Ignoring the ancient readouts and monitors along side her on the wall, she slowed her beating heart while inhaling.  Toggling the “Seal” function of her armor, the plating of her left arm disconnected itself from her cuirass.  Now she was ready.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply before exploding into motion, deliberately ramming her left arm into the bulkheads of the wall, her upper arm absorbing almost all of the force.  With a sickening wet sound, she felt her dislocated arm pop back into the socket, fresh, sharp pain lancing through her.

Eyes threatening to roll back into her head, D’Aylanna concentrated on remaining conscious.  Breathe.  Balance.  She allowed herself to lean up against the wall.

With the exception of the sigh of relief as she exhaled, D’Aylanna barely made a sound.

Sinking to her knees, she fought the waves of nausea and residual pain, giving over to her body as she controlled her breathing.  No she would not capitulate; her family needed her.  ...Get.  Up.  Now… She admonished.  Steeling herself, D’Aylanna rose up from the deck, tenderly holding her left arm while the last of the burning pain dissipated.

Toggling the “Seal” function, her armor once again connected at the joins.  Gingerly, she rotated her arm, checking range of motion.  All-in-all, not bad, not bad at all.

Replaying the last few minutes in her mind, D’Aylanna couldn’t believe that she hadn’t even considered that any of the hallways would be lined with cortosis.  It was the kind of oversight that could get one killed.

A “teidowan’s mistake” her Zearic would say.

She unclipped her lightsaber from her belt, unnecessarily hefting it before pressing the activation button.  After a slight false start, the amethyst blade sprang into existence, the low, comfortable hum of the saber reassuring D’Aylanna.  Thank the Maker.

She would not underestimate Gaetana again.

Still, she now had at least one advantage: that tralk would wonder what had happened to her since her trap had not been successful.

Remembering the Buried Presence technique that her Shakal had taught her, D’Aylanna wrapped herself in the Force Veil.  According to him, it would obfuscate her even from Force-users.  Good.

She would not give her enemy an opportunity again.

With conviction of purpose and a silent prayer to the Maker, D’Aylanna reoriented herself before stalking deeper into the laboratory caves and making no sound whatsoever.

Gaetana would pay for everything and especially for hurting her family.

   <<<<< >>>>>



As soon as Kadmar had activated the laboratory’s Traps, Gaetana exploded forward, shunting Kadmaur aside and reasserting control over Jorya’s body but, as both Jorya and Gaetana knew, the damage had been done.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” Gaetana screamed at Kadmaur.  “She was MINE to destroy!  Not a quick, easy death but long, infernal suffering!”

Jorya merely “stared” in horror as the mechanisms for the Trap went through their routines, memories of the prisoners and their horrible experiences foremost in her mind.  ...Mother…! She forlornly pleaded.

“I only did what you should’ve done from the start, what you yourself were denied on the Vhal’Dan ship.” Kadmaur reminded, his tone pedantic.  If he’d have had arms, he would’ve crossed them.  “Now we can focus entirely on the Ritual.” Both Jorya and Gaetana could hear the smile in his voice.

“WE NEED HER FOR THE RITUAL!” Gaetana castigated while D’Aylanna’s lightsaber faltered, the purple blade extinguishing.  The aura around Kadmar subtly changed, his poise a thing of the past.

“Which is why you need to bring me into your confidence!” He retorted.  There was an undercurrent of worry to his anger.

But Jorya wasn’t so certain.

Like she’d said: the Shards were trapped with her too…and she’d become very familiar with them.  She hadn’t known Kadmaur in life but Jorya knew that the man himself would’ve been much more discerning and likely never once fooled.  But his Shard–much as the name suggested–was only a fraction of who he really was.  Kadmaur’s Shard did not possess the millennia of life experiences and wisdom of the original.

Whereas Gaetana had Transferred her Essence directly.  But that wasn’t all.

The truth of the matter was that she’d known Gaetana almost all of her life, first as her teidowan and student but later as her enemy; by the Maker, the Ferroan tralk had tortured her all those years ago!  Jorya had gotten to know her well…

…Well enough to know that she was now lying.

“What can we do?” Kadmaur’s Shard sounded even more unsettled.

If Gaetana had possessed eyes here, she would’ve stared daggers at him.  “Nothing.  We have to wait until the machinery runs through its program.”  If she had possessed teeth, she would have ground them in frustration.  “If she survives we might be able to retrieve her before the Le–”

“LOOK!” Kadmaur interrupted.

Both Gaetana and Jorya involuntarily directed their entire attention toward the holorecording. their previous despair incrementally dissipating.

They saw that, even before the floor opened up from beneath the diminutive Gray master, she’d tucker herself into a ball and, exploding forward, flew over the now-open floor.  If Jorya has possessed shoulders here, they would’ve been thoroughly taunt with tension as she saw Mother sail through the blast doors before it had clamped down sealing the hallway.

“…she made it…” Gaetana whispered, disbelieving.  Idly, her fingers gripped one lekku, a gesture immediately recognizable to Jorya.  She would often do so when she was worried: grab ahold of her cybernetic lekku.  A “gift” from her time with Gaetana².  “Thank the Maker.” She intoned by rote.

“‘Thank the Maker’ indeed.” Kadmaur muttered.

Jorya wanted to laugh, triumphantly, happily, and relieved…but she did not.  Instead, she once again noticed Gaetana’s slip concerning the Maker.  Jorya knew that Gaetana’s proclamation concerning the Maker wasn’t the Sith’s but rather her own.  Taken with everything else, Jorya felt confident her plan would work.

For her, she had all of the proof that she required.

She considered both Shards but focused upon Gaetana.  The former Inquisitor would be in for a big surprise.

“We’ll meet her right before the main laboratory.” Gaetana smiled evily, her vicious glee infecting Kadmaur.  “There we will crush her.”  Certainty radiated from her.

...Please Mother, be safe… She prayed as both Shards came to consensus.  Jorya would do all that she could to protect both Mother and Father, no matter the consequences to herself.  ...Hurry…

   <<<<< >>>>>



Considering, the Tof wondered what D’Aylanna would do now that the cortosis had deactivated her lightsaber for the crucial seconds left to her before the Trap imprisoned her.

And, quite possibly, him.

Or’an squinted his eyes in mild frustration: he did not wish to reveal himself but he did not want to lose his best lead in confronting Gaetana and exacting Damnatio upon her.  He supposed he could try to break through the ceiling so long as the durasteel was no thicker than 1.5 mete–

Swifter than even Or’an could react, he saw D’Aylanna suddenly crouch down into a ball and propel herself parallel to the floor.  She possessed a grace and speed that even the Tof admired.  It was incredible for him to witn–

That’s when the floor opened up beneath him.

For one of the rare times in his life, Or’an was taken by complete surprise.

As he fell he roared in quick anger and irritation, the Tof physiological response already flooding his system with epinephrine.  Before his body had fallen more than 2 meters, his massive armored arms shot outwards, his fists first scratching then distorting the ancient durasteel walls bringing him to a halt.

Above him he heard the blastdoors on either side slam shut while the ceiling continued downwards.  Looking as close as he could, he deduced that the ceiling was much thicker than 1.5 meters.

Knowing that it would box him in on three sides–if not crush him outright–Or’an brought his arm close together across his armored chest.  He was now effectively a gigantic organic missile.

Falling into the darkness, the massive Tof soon found himself in an incredibly cramped space, a presser field below him having arrested all downward velocity.  Unsurprisingly, a durasteel panel suddenly locked into place over his head.

He was, quite simply, surrounded on all sides.

It only served to add to his growing agitation…only this time, he did little to contain it.

With a gutteral sound, Or’an gritted his teeth and let himself mostly off of the short leash that he usually kept on his emotions. 

The specialized nano-polymer of his Hamask armor began to expand to compensate for his increasing mass, large, corded muscles rippling underneath the unique nano-bodysuit that acted as an interface for his armor.

Body flooded with hormones, Or’an felt his emotions shift as well, the Tof Hyperrage response threatening to overwhelm him.  But Or’an was stronger than that, his control finally tuned.  He was no mindless brute, no clumsy blunt tool.

He was Hamask.

His fists shot out, pummeling the circular walls of his confines, the durasteel holding fast…but only for the first few strikes.  There was no question which was more durable: the wall or his own flesh and blood.  There wasn’t even a drop of blood upon his knuckles even after repeated strikes.

In short order, the durasteel blew outward, giving the Tof purchase upon which to grip each side.  Then, much as one opens a banana peel, Or’an easily ripped the durasteel walls asunder.  As soon as he’d created an opening large enough (which was almost the entire curvature of half of the drum) he jumped out. 

When he hit the floor, he did not even so much as bounce as an incredibly dark and dirty floor met his armored boots 3 meters below the drum.  His senses acutely hyperaware, he deduced that he was within a vast cavern, one that was probably centuries if not millennia old.

While his eyes adjusted to the near-total darkness, his other hyperaware senses began instinctually relaying information to his brain.

A part of his mind remained cognizant of his surroundings, the Tof Hyperrage not yet possessing him completely.  As such, he saw that he’d burst out from what had been a tall, thick, durasteel drumlike tube, one amongst countless others in a line that disappeared into the darkness.

Which drew him up to a complete stop: scanning around him he could not see past a few meters.  His Hyperrage should’ve allowed him to see to the horizon, even in total darkness.  With his heart pounding in his ears–not to mention the barely controlled fury–he made the conscious effort to focus entirely upon his hearing.

His ears could pick up the chittering of insects, the passage of worms, and an organic, wet sound that seemed omnipresent…

Inhaling, his Hyperrage-augmented olfactory senses now detected the scent of not only old decay but also the musty, dirty, damp smell of some fauna that he could not identify…

That should be impossible: Or’an Damaar had memorized the biology and zoology of every single galactic animal as part of his Hamask training.

This…this scent was unlike anything that he’d ever studied much less encountered.  He must know more.

His Hyperrage gave him uncontested tactile- and situational-awareness but he spread out his Force Senses as well to maximize his intuition.

As soon as he did, he could hear movement, smell organics, taste the change in the air all around, below, and above him.  With his Hyperrage, he knew that whatever was surrounding him, it was enormous.

And then he heard a hissing shriek that had not been heard in the galaxy in millennia.

______________________________________________________________________________________
2. As seen w-a-a-y-y-y back in “A Tarnished Knight” https://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=35967.msg584698#msg584698

[Lord_S_Gray]

Once more Gaetana seems to be her own worst enemy with her obsession with punishing D’alyanna rather than simply eliminating, even lying to her fellow shard about her exact role in any upcoming ritual, and created tension between the pair, Kadmaur-Shards limitations becoming more obvious, it is an astutue observation here that a more fulsome version of Kadmaur would not have indulged with Gaetana this long, and only his diminished form is keeping him from more direct influence.  One also wonders how stable Gaetana is, her essence might be transferred but has it come across in a cohesive ‘sane’ (to the extent such a term can apply to her state of existence) whole? Her ‘screaming’ suggests otherwise.

Meanwhile Jorya takes cautious but tiny steps to reasserting herself, one just hope that an opportunity arises to make use of her gains before whatever plans Gaetana has come to fruition. Its somewhat ironic that the suffering Jorya has experienced at Gaetana’s hands in the past is now a lever to her current subtle resistance, once Gaetana likely never contemplates.

Also some hints here about the very fine line Oran walks with controlling his hyperrage – both an asset sufficient to smash through durasteel when needed and a liability if it cannot be harnessed appropriately, fitting that Dutchs visuals have  and ‘Incredible Hulk’ like aesthetic given the similarity….but now…what ancient horror from the Hundred years darkness is waking up down there?

It's all reaction and response on Cronos it seems, no one fully succeeding as each party vexes the other. At least Kintik is having a successful time of it in the brilliantly rendered TIE Bat by our resident designer For Tyeth, who has also helped Dutch achieve his vision of finally rendering D’alyanna just as he wants her! I very much look forward to seeing what Kintik and his fellows uncover in there and how it all links with other events present and Past!

[TheDutchman]

Interlude-The Ars Ingens, part IV


Morsus Planum, valley on planet Corbos 3622BBY, Aftermath of Phaseera “Senate Day Massacre”
Standing atop the plateau overlooking the valley, Darth Obliquus stared from underneath his helmet across the stark, blasted lands, the cratered desert obfuscated by thick, gloomy cumulus clouds bloated with precipitation, huge drops of dark rain hungrily eaten up by the dry, sandy plains.  Upon the desert valleys small, twisted, noxious plants dotted the landscape where tough, spindly mutated animals eked out an existence absent consideration for the future, for any future.  The tall Darth wondered if such portended anything prophetic.

“What a shavit-hole.” Darth Surdus observed from behind him, the enormous man not wrong.  So much for prophecy.  From the corner of Obliquus’ eye it appeared as if the Sith Lord had eclipsed the local star just as much as the Black Rainstorms did.

“Prior to the Hundred-Year Darkness this entire continent was a tropical paradise.” Obliquus' tone was distracted, his own mind preoccupied with 4th Dimensional trigonometric calculations.  “A verdant utopia…Corbos was a galactic jewel.”  Yes, he was correct: the triangulations pinpointed the exact coordinates, decussating…there.

His eyes settled upon the lone pyramidal mountain in the distance beyond the roiling Black Rain Thunderstorms, an atmospheric funnel now settling upon the mountain’s peak.  Obliquus thought it gave one the impression that the cinder cone mountain was erupting.  Regardless, both its past and present provenance were of utmost importance.

For now, it was destination of the Ars Ingens.

“Well I wouldn’t give you a Coruscanti whore’s assets for it now.” Surdus scoffed, his own cortosis helmet slick with precipitation.  Again, Obliquus couldn’t blame him; no one would have.

Except that he was entirely wrong.

A pleasant, lilting laugh came from opposite the two male Darths, the tall blonde woman’s smile welcoming and amiable.  And like the facade of said location, a trick.  “My dear Surdus, what makes you think that any whore–Coruscanti or otherwise–would take you on as clientele?” Darth Saggita’s eyes sparkled with wry, dark humor doing nothing to soften the severity on her otherwise beautiful face.

Surdus roared with laughter, the many scars on his handsome face lessened by the gesture, his massive shoulders rising and sinking with mirth.  Obliquus almost smiled.  Almost.

“I don’t care a whit for tralk’s trinkets.  I want all what was promised.” Darth Invidia’s humorless, haughty tone did nothing to darken her still-cherubic countenance, olive skin in stark contrast to her own dark indigo armored helmet.  “Let’s hope that this actually is the place…” The small woman stepped in front of Saggita, her saber-pike balanced on her shoulders.  “...And not another ‘clue to be followed, pointing to our destination.’” She repeated Obliquus’ own words back to him as a challenge, lowering her voice an octave in competent imitation of his own.

For his own part, Obliquus gave it as much consideration as he did the others’ whimsy.  Which was to say none at all.  Nevertheless, he could understand Invidia’s frustration.

After almost four years of searching, Servant Six’s pursuits had finally yielded for the Ars Ingens an actionable lead, somewhat restoring Obliquus’ faith in her.

This clue had pointed to something amidst the miserable jungles of Phaseera, a planet located just before the terminus of the Randon Trade Run, precisely on the Sith-Republic boundary.  Worse still was that their objective was literally in the middle of a war zone.

Unfortunately, both Sith and Republic had laid claim to the planet, a continuous conflict that had raged since before the signing of the Treaty of Coruscant.  Thirty years of constant fighting that had gone nowhere and yielded nothing.  Obliquus doubted that, even if any of the original belligerents were still alive, that they would know why a no-where, backwater planet like Phaseera was strategically important.

Certainly none of the soldiers that his Leviathans had interrogated seemed to know; to wit: no two could agree upon any one thing.

Obliquus had been pensive at the time but later became sardonic: the only thing that the two sides seemed to agree upon during his time there was that his Ars Ingens was now their enemy.

Still, he had felt that the rewards far outweighed the means; after all: if the Imps and Pubs were too busy fighting each other while simultaneously distrustful of his Leviathans, he should have been able to operate with at least partial impunity.  And, as he’d reminded himself, Obliquus doubted that any of the original belligerents were still alive, less so those with situational knowledge of the strategic import around Phaseera.

Or rather what had orbited around Phaseera…

It had been 21 years since the de-orbit and crash-landing of the Phaseera Orbital Bioresearch Facility, an Imperial archival laboratory specializing in Sith Alchemies.  According to Servant Six, Obliquus and his Leviathans required the information held solely within the databanks…and the Ars Ingens seemed to be the only ones left alive looking for it.

However, the crash-site was located in the middle of one of the largest cydera jungles in the galaxy…a jungle that was now an active theater of war between the two sides.

Obliquus’ jowls flexed as he ground his teeth while he felt an uncharacteristic surge of anger shoot up his spine for both the Imperials as well as the Republicans.  Even now the memory vexed him.

When he’d first made planetfall, what he’d hoped for was an easy find and a swift departure from this Emperor-forsaken, dismal backwater planet.  And so with all of the authority granted him by his Emperor, he’d approached the Imperial contingent to bring them up to speed on their new reality and that as Imperial citizens it was their sworn duty to assist the Ars Ingens in enacting the will of their Emperor’s Leviathans.

Unfortunately, Obliquus had been quickly disabused of that notion.  Instead, he found his Ars Ingens caught in a desperate fight for their very survival, their enemy now both Jedi and Sith armies. 

Combat on Phaseera had been some of the most savage that Obliquus had ever experienced and he’d forcibly reminded himself that he had fought on behalf of his Emperor during the Battle of Corellia.

Corellia had seen millions of casualties on both sides, entire Districts depopulated, the Meridian Complex utterly destroyed, widespread collapse of the Shipyards, the fighting more brutal than any other conflict he’d personally seen.

Until now.

In the span of 142 minutes he’d lost several thousand of his soldier-devotees, hundreds of Sith Acolytes, dozens of Lords and, worst by far, 3 full-fledged Darths.  By the Emperor, he’d almost been killed himself!

And would’ve died if not for the bravery of Darths Invidia, Saggita, Surdus, and, especially, Servant Six.

During one of his probing missions, Obliquus had found himself surrounded while he’d been reconnoitering a secret path through the jungle to the crash-site, his Sith bodyguard vastly outnumbered and soon all killed to a being.  Apparently someone on the other side wasn’t a complete fool and had prepared for just that eventuality.

He didn’t even bother to find out if they’d been Jedi or Sith.

Emotionless, he’d fought on, even when his enemies had disarmed him from his weapon, bleeding him from dozens of lacerations and several blaster burns, his opponents legion as they’d enclosed around him.  Yes they'd paid the price for the temerity of attacking him--he personally killing dozens of them--but in the end it came down to a question of numbers.

His only regret had been that he would never see his Emperor again in this life.

But as he was stabbed the last time, his final effort being to withdraw the vibroblade that had impaled him through-and-through in his side, the entire first rank in front of him suddenly buckled, collapsing in chaos as they were savaged from behind, dual red-orange plasma blades scything through the surrounding enemies.

It had been Servant Six wielding his own saberstaff as Darths Surdus, Saggita, and Invidia completed a full flanking envelopment, closing the lid upon the proverbial Kill-Box.

Soon all of his opponents were either likewise beating a hasty retreat through the jungle, cowering for their lives amongst the thick wilderness, or being butchered where they stood.  But Obliquus had other ideas for them; instead the vast majority of the attacking enemy were to be captured, thousands of prisoners that the Darth already had plans for.

That and it had taught him a valuable lesson.

On Phaseera, “Sith” and “Jedi” loyalties meant nothing to either the Imperials or the Republicans.  They had aligned themselves against his Ars Ingens and, therefore, his Emperor.  They would all die.

His solution had been ineloquent, bloody, and devastatingly effective.

Obliquus had learned that some 7 years prior, the two sides had come to an accord: during the festivities of the Republic’s Senate Day, the Jedi and Sith had agreed upon an armistice and a cessation of hostilities to instead engage in celebration. 

A break in the fighting that he and his Leviathans would take advantage of.

Using his adherents versed in Sith Alchemies, Obliquus had them active throughout the night, hundreds of the sorcerers working themselves beyond exhaustion, many collapsing insensate where they’d performed their Majicks.

But not before they’d provided Obliquus with what he’d required.

And what the Sith Sorcerers “merely” required were the necessary reagents—in this case, raw living material&subjects–and the power of the Dark Side to further enact Obliquus’ will.

To that end, the Sorcerers used each and every cydera tree within the area of effect for subjects, the thousands of captured prisoners for materiel.  Or, more specifically, their life energies as fuel.  Once the Sorcerers had done their grueling work, Obliquus used the collective Dark Side power of his Ars Ingens to initiate the trigger.

They then need only wait.

Typically the Senate Day holiday usually lasted three entire galactic standard days, with some regional traditions lasting even up to a month or more.

Typically.

However, by dusk of the first day, the entire cydera wilderness lay eerily and deathly silent, all camp lights extinguished, all camp movement still.  It wasn’t until morning that Obliquus and his Leviathans were finally able to get their first “Eyes-On” intel.

Not one Republican or Imperial had been left alive within the jungle; in fact, the landscape had also been completely transformed from dense, flourishing forest to barren, desolate, and a denuded lifeless badlands.  All according to Obliquus’ plans.

He had used the might of his Ars Ingens to manipulate the Dark Side using Sith Alchemy most potent to transform each and every leaf into a rabid, flesh eating monstrosity.

Directing their newly-birthed Sithspawn given macabre life, the Sorcerers of his Ars Ingens had let loose those Abominations with but a single purpose.

As his Leviathans made their way to the now highly-visible crash-site, every member of his Ars Ingens looked upon the gory charnel-house that the joint Senate Day Jedi-Sith encampments had become, the entire area ravaged beyond identification.  What was verdantly alive and green before was now gruesomely wasted and covered in a thick coating of blood utterly and completely devoid of life.

A grotesquery forever after known as the “Senate Day Massacre.”

They had already traversed well within the confines of the camp when someone finally recognized that the “broken, grubby, stunted red bushes” littering the ground were what remained of the people.  Every being–regardless of species–had been…consumed.

And to make matters worse, when the cydera leaf-golems had run out of humanoids, they turned upon themselves.  That had been the source of the “misidentification” of the “broken, grubby, stunted red bushes:” they weren’t only the remains of the two armies, but also now what made up the jungle floor, the shredded remnants of the leaflike Sithspawn joining the gory remains of eviscerated humanoid bodies.  All of this resulted in the area’s homogenous-like cadaver-red nightmare of a death grounds.

Those of his Ars Ingens that vomited all over the ground need not worry about the mess; the former encampment was far beyond that.

Completely unaffected, Obliquus had led his Leviathans through the remainder of the encampment and through the narrow, entangled passageway to finally reach their objective: amongst the ruins of the Phaseera Orbital Bioresearch Facility, was the prize that so many of his Ars Ingens had died for, their sacrifice an honor to the Emperor they served.

The last known surviving records containing the Annals of Karness Muur.

Muur had been a man of True Faith and Vision, a rare, intuitive genius surpassing the confines of his colleagues while changing the entire galaxy in the wake of his achievements.

And like all misunderstood geniuses, he was often mistaken for mad.

But Obliquus knew different.  Karness Muur had succeeded where others failed, Immortality never so close then at the hands of the man himself.  It would be by Muur’s conceptions and discoveries that would allow his Emperor to live again.

Obliquus had scoured the databases, his mind drinking in the knowledge of the Ancients.  There was something to be said about possessing such Power; quite another to create said Power…and Muur’s journals went beyond anything that Obliquus had ever heard, read, or even seen.  Truly this man was worthy of the epitaph “Darth” and “Dark Lord of the Sith…”

…And yet, it was still incomplete.

He’d come to the final page, unresolved outrage strangling him.  With all of his success, with all of his experiments, with all that Muur had discovered…there were still more questions.

Obliquus’ furious frustrations had been terrible to behold, the entirety of his Ars Ingens all fearful of their lord and master’s rage.

Of course, it had been his Darths–Surdus, Saggita, and Invidia–that had cooled his wrath, blunted his irritation, and balmed his injured ego.  Surdus still had the facial scars from that particular outburst as well as two new cybernetic fingers as a result.  Soon afterwards Obliquus was once again the very example of control.

That, and thanks to Servant Six, she had discovered that which Obliquus (raging in impotent fury) had somehow missed: a vital clue to their next destination.

Another backwater planet, a world now blasted, cratered, spartan, and forgotten…one that Obliquus now castigated himself for not recognizing the import of said planet sooner…

Corbos.

   <<<<< >>>>>

[TheDutchman]

Interlude-The Ars Ingens, part IV (cont.)


Laboratory of Karness Muur, cave system on planet Corbos 3622BBY, Aftermath of Phaseera “Senate Day Massacre”
Mindful of the fact that the Laboratory’s defense- and computer-systems seemed to be in good working order, Obliquus decided to err on the side of caution, especially in retrospect of his experiences on Phaseera.  To that end, he asked for volunteers up to a maximum of fifty.

He’d lost too many as of late… No by his Emperor’s soul, too many by far!

In the last nine years, his Ars Ingens had first grown to almost 200,000 soldiers, acolytes, lords, and Darths only to lose thousands to the fighting, to attrition, to searching, even too many to accidents.  Yes, Phaseera had been one of the worst but it hardly been unique.

As it stood now, the Emperor’s Leviathans numbered less than 114,000.

That was the reason that Corbos had become doubly important: to not only find a proper vessel for his Emperor but also as an alternative to constant warfare and death for his Ars Ingens, or so Servant Six claimed.  She'd been annoyingly secretive about that.

He only need find what was necessary first…

As the Dragonfly-class Imperial dropship landed securely upon the still-working automated deck of the Laboratory hanger bay, Obliquus had to admit that those 50 volunteers here with him constituted some of the best of his Leviathans: from the pilots that had smoothly flown through the narrow canyons in order to access the primary hanger bay, to his usual three Darths of Invidia, Saggita, and Surdus, to Servant Six... They had all made him proud.

Odd that: he didn’t think that he would feel such a…a prosaic emotion.

His nine years commanding his Ars Ingens had changed him, changed him for the better.

Within the Laboratory, they had penetrated deeper, wary of the automated locks, security challenges, and possible traps.  Apropos of such, they were all touching the Dark Side, creating a unique synergy between them all.  Could this have been the so-called “BattleMeld” that some rare Jedi Masters were able to initiate?

He would have to look into it more with his Darths and Servant Six when there was more time.

Passageway after passageway Obliquus noticed that much of the rock strata had been buttressed with ancient durasteel fabrications, the stanchions and tech readouts looking much as they must have during Karness Muur’s time.  A truly incredible feat considering the passage of over 3,000 years...

In short order, they’d arrived at a three-way junction, every way identical to the other, all intel gleaned from Phareesa no help whatsoever here.  Damn.

“Split into equal groups: Darths Invidia and Surdus take the Left passageway; Darth Parva and Servant Six proceed through the Right; Darth Saggita and myself shall search the Central corridor.” He commanded, splitting the remaining 45 into three groups of 15 to accompany his appointed lieutenants.

That done, they went their separate ways, on the lookout for traps whilst paying particular attention to their surroundings within the Laboratory.  Even considering the modern technology available to them during this time of unbridled inventions, the specs of the Laboratory seemed even more sophisticated still.  Obliquus couldn’t help but wonder what had been lost during those long spans of warfare and strife, from the Hundred-Year Darkness to the Great Hyperspace War, the Mandalorian Wars to the most recent of the Great Galacic War? 

And to say nothing of the the Great Schisms before, between, and afterwards!

What if, instead of the constant internecine galactic-wide fighting, the entirety of the Galaxy was united under the banner of his Emperor?  He couldn’t be certain of course but Obliquus felt confident that the Sith Empire would possess inventions rivaling that of the Rakatan’s Infinite Empire during its heyday or–perhaps, just perhaps–even the legendary Kwa themselves!

So much wasted potential…

Instead, the Jedi, the Sith, the Gray Orders, Witches&Cultists…Forceusers one and all split into disparate factions, each and everyone vying for supremacy.  That Obliquus could at least understood; indeed, as a Sith he agreed wholesale in survival of the fittest…yet too many of his Sith Order undermined their own Emperor and his ambitions of a glorious, unifying Empire.

Obliquus’ disgust arose anew, his impatience and hatred for his fellow Sith–excluding his own Ars Ingens--almost a rabid thing of crazed impotence and violence.  Again, that was why the Galaxy needed his Emperor.

Obliquus’ thoughts continued to stray back to the one Sith (other than his Emperor) that he considered as visionary: Karness Muur.

Obliquus’ lips thinned pensively.  Would that he could have met the man in person, his unrivaled genius a font of Alchemical erudition.  He had questions, questions that he desperately needed answers to.  He felt within him the unbridled beginnings of a ragestorm.  ...not now… He tried clamping down upon the emotions threatening to overwhelm him, the unfortunate timing an inconvenience that he couldn’t be bothe–

Suddenly his holocomm pinged, the sound ringing desperate in his ears.  Grabbing the disk, he thumbed the activation switch producing a small, ersatz holoprojection of a tall woman.  “Report.” He commanded.

“My lord!” Servant Six’s voice sounded loud in his ears, his resulting trepidations making his neck itch, her voice a cold draught of water quenching the fires within him.  Slowing his breathing, he seized control of his emotions, his entire attention now directed at the Sith Pureblood.  “We need you here, now!”  Real panic pierced the silence surrounding Obliquus’s group.  Even now two unimportant details thrust themselves into the forefront of his cognizance: the first was that he was mildly annoyed by her insolent tone, the second that he was reminded of the encounter within the Tomb at Belsavis all those years ago.

Something immediately clicked, Obliquus’ earlier rage and later malaise completely forgotten.  Instead memories of the monster that he and his Darths fought flooded his mind.

“We are coming.  Now.” He told her succinctly, closing down the holocomm.  “With me.” He commanded unnecessarily as his entire group broke into a run.  First backtracking to the junction, he turned into the Right corridor.  Unsurprisingly he found himself shortly joined by Surdus, Invidia, and their Sith, literally doubling their numbers.  Good.

Everyone was alert, their own Force Senses spread out before them as they raced through the half-rock, half-fabricated tunnels, the soldiers, acolytes, and Sith Lords taking the lead ahead of the four Darths.  No one spoke.

Which meant that they all heard the monstrous, ear-piercing, nightmare-inducing roaring coming from the darkness in front of them.  All of the 45 volunteers sped ahead of them, intent upon creating a wall between their Lords, Ladies, & Masters, disappearing into the hazy darkness of the adjacent cavern.

However, Surdus stopped short, the enormous human an effective barricade against which Invidia, Saggita, and Obliquus were unable to move.

It probably saved their lives.  Well, most of them.  The majority of their Sith retinue, unfortunately, were not so lucky.

“By the Emperor…” He muttered amidst the terrible sounds coming from the darkened cavern beyond.  Noticing the doppler effect all around him, Obliquus knew that the cave grotto through the entrance way must be enormous, yet the furthest that he could effectively see was perhaps 5 or 6 meters…

…Which was enough to see a walking horror given life towering above their heads.



Time slowed, giving Obliquus unprecedented awareness: the 45 Sith volunteers had fallen to the ground in various states of distress, the sight of the monstrosity enough to give even the most stalwart pause, although their symptoms were much, much worse.  Unfortunately, even the 5 volunteers that had not been trapped in the cavern were frozen where they stood in front of the four Darths.

But even Invidia, Saggita, and Surdus were not immune from the fear response generated from the nightmarish fiend, they themselves tried to fight against terror they felt constricted by.  But Obliquus knew that there must be more than the obvious to induce such fear,  such incapacity in his Ars Ingens.

His eyes suddenly spied Servant Six, the tall Pureblood had sunk down to her knees while her spine offered no support to her body whatsoever.  It seemed to Obliquus that she was held upright by nothing but invisible wires, the laxity in her body reminding him of a sodden rag doll.  Yet, she was not alone.

The Pureblood Sith woman was surrounded by motionless bodies littered about her, their bodies shriveled, desiccated husks.  As for Servant Six, her own mouth was agape in some silent scream that produced no sound while rivulets of drool hung from lips pulled taunt apart as if she were trying to pull the skin off of her head.  Yet, there was no movement from Servant Six, not her mouth, her hands, her head, her legs…

Indeed, there was no evidence of any life whatsoever.

Obliquus looked closer at one of the bodies laying on the hard rock grotto floor, the nearest to the monster as it turned out.  It was Darth Parva.  Squinting his eyes, he could see now that the man’s skin had taken on a sunken, grayish pallor, the white sclera of his eyes visible as they’d rolled up almost completely into his head, claw-like fingers stabbing the air impotently around him, his spine contorted in an impossible bowing arch.

But in the darkness of the cave it was virtually impossible to make out anything more; opening his Senses through the Force Obliq–

With a sudden deafening roar–the hot, fetid breath of the thing smelling of burnt flesh and offal–the horror looked directly at him, the dark, bulbous head of the thing pulsating with some kind of black fluid and flanked by several biomechanical appendages that ended in sharp, dangerous talons.  Obliquus felt an involuntary wave of icy fear that trembled up his spine as it took a step away from Servant Six and towards him.

Immediately he felt as if he’d been hit by concentrated Force Lightning but worse, his body and mind unable to act to even the simplest of stimuli.  He could not think, he could not move, he could not defend himself, he could not even breathe.  And there, in the back of his mind and deep within his throat, he could feel the very essence of his Self being slowly…pulled from him.  As the thing took another step towards him, he knew that he had the terror’s complete attention.

What was happening to him?  Where was his much-vaunted strength, his unshakable fortitude?  How could anyone fight against this?  What had they stumbled upon?  Why was he here?  Who were these people beside him?  He soon couldn’t even remember something as simple as his name--

“--y Lord!” Surdus’ face appeared from seeming nowhere, thick fingers as strong as durasteel bars wrapped around Obliquus’--yes that was his name, Obliquus--armored helmet, the giant man’s dark eyes searching as his gaze stared deeply into his master’s face.  “Can you hear me, Lord?”

...Of course I can Surdus…--yes that was this man’s name, Surdus–he thought to answer, instead hearing himself mutter almost unintelligibly “...’es…’hy…’ou…’oldin’...my…’ead?”



“He’s coming out of it.” Saggita’s voice came from somewhere behind Surdus.  “Invidia’s doing all that she can to keep that thing’s attention but she needs help and now.” Obliquus saw Surdus nod, the big man’s hard face showing the concern that he felt.  “But first I can try…” Saggita answered the question that Obliquus had not heard.

As the tall, lithe Darth laid her hands upon him, Obliquus suddenly felt the refreshing conflagration of renewal burning like a flashfire through him.  He coughed deeply after inhaling so swiftly and unexpectedly, unceremoniously spitting to the side, the spittle filled with blood.  The lethargy, the cobwebs in his mind, the mire that had made thinking difficult was finally gone although he could feel some pressure encroaching in from along the perimeter of his mind.

He was himself again.

Grabbing both Saggita’s and Surdus’ vambraces, Obliquus gave them both a small nod.  He could see the dark circles underneath their eyes, the consequences indicative of fresh-if-minor Force Drain.  They’d literally given him some of their Life.

“Thank you.” He said quietly, earnestly.

Saggita nodded without a smile, igniting her lightsaber before joining Invidia.  Obliquus noticed another acolyte collapse into a fetal position as he succumbed to…whatever it was that the thing–the leviathan he corrected himself–had done.  His eyes lingered on Surdus and, in an uncharacteristic display of affection, he tenderly placed his armored palm softly upon the giant man’s exposed cheek.

It was as quick as it was affectionate…which was unfortunately all that they had time for.

Igniting his own saberstaff, Obliquus raced forward to join Invidia and Saggita, Surdus close behind him.  Once again, they performed excellently as individuals and even better as a collective.  Wrapped deep in a BattleMeld, they could both attack and defend while supplementing their comrades.

Obliquus soon saw three glaring problems.

The first was that their lightsabers were almost individually ineffective, the terror’s hide almost entirely resistant to their weapons.  Perhaps… He “spoke” through the BattleMeld, commanding that each one of them strike against the same spot.  It worked…somewhat.

Roaring in frustration and pain, the monster pulled back momentarily, stepping into one of the lit electric torches.  As the thing ducked its enormous head, he saw some odd glowing, pulsing patches on its back.  Now that Obliquus could see details, he understood just why they were having such trouble.

As if to confirm his suspicions, he saw the area that had received multiple saber strikes had stopped smoking, the skin even now beginning to knit together.  Still…

Within the BattleMeld, he “told” his Darths to pull back while simultaneously distracting with Force Apparitions and other non-direct attacks.  That was the second problem: he now knew what they faced and that this thing would only aggressively lock onto any Forceuser currently using the Force.

It also meant that he was almost certain that there was no way that they would all live to see the day out.

After collecting the data from Phareesa and the crashed Orbital Facility, he’d scoured the databanks for everything recorded concerning Karness Muur.  Yes, he’d come close to unlocking the secrets of Immortality and, arguably, he was even partially successful.  But that was not the only achievement that the Sith genius had accomplished.  He’d also manipulated Sith Alchemies and the Dark Side itself to produce the truly remarkable…

Life.

More specifically, the genetically engineered nightmares now known as Sithspawn.

During the Hundred-Year Darkness, the Dark Jedi (and later Sith) had concocted truly incredible and terrible organic constructs, living artificial monstrosities that caused as many deaths as the Sith that spawned them.  Up until recently, Obliquus had only ever heard of one such living Sithspawn, a horror that made even the most hardened criminals cringe in fear…

Rakghoul.

But on Belsavis and later Phareesa, Obliquus learned that some other Sithspawn were worse, some surviving throughout the millennia and that the monster that they now specifically faced was amongst the worst ever to be given unholy life.

Karness Muur had called them “leviathans.”

Obliquus almost smiled at the irony: his Ars Ingens--his Leviathans--would either kill or be killed by Muur’s own leviathan.  It was as delicious as it was disconcerting.  Which brought him to the 3rd thing.

“Destroy all of the bodies surrounding that thing now!” He yelled, uncertain if sending the command via the Battlemeld would empower the leviathan or perhaps be interrupted.  Nevertheless...  “Get Servant Six out of here!  I’ll keep its attention!”  He tapped into his Force reserves, fortifying his body to push it past the threshold of normal humans and hoping–praying to his Emperor(!)–that he could belay his death that much longer.

He must give his Leviathans, give Servant Six the time necessary to escape from here, whatever it took.  They could then take up his crusade to find a suitable host for his Emperor.

From the corner of his eyes, Obliquus saw Invidia, Saggita, and Surdus eviscerating the still-breathing-if catatonic Sith.  They had been brave and would be honored appropriate–

Obliquus suddenly found himself airborne, somewhat uncertain as to why.

Acting entirely by instinct, he tucked his head down and, using the Force, tried to erect a shield around him.  It was this and his cortosis helmet that saved him from death as he crashed into the ground, somehow his saberstaff still ignited in his grip.  Even as he worked out what had happened, the beast was upon him, the thing’s jagged, sharp teeth clamping down on his thighs as it tried to gain purchase upon the heavily armored cuisses protecting his legs.

Fighting off panic, he knew that he had to keep the leviathan’s attention from his people.

Screaming wordlessly, he thrust his saberstaff at the thing’s mouth, doing very little actual damage but nevertheless aggravating it.  Everytime he stabbed at the horror, the leviathan’s skin began to smoke and hiss, its already dark skin growing darker. 

One of the leviathan’s reptilian appendages suddenly knocked his saberstaff aside, the red blades casting the thing in an abyssal light before the blades extinguished.  Again, Obliquus screamed in defiance, his control completely shattered.  White hot fury raged through him like a star going nova.  Using both of his hands as a focal point, Obliquus released thick, corded arcs of Sith Lightning, the blue-violet plasma striking the leviathan precisely where he’d stabbed the thing.

With equal parts amazement, shock, and satisfaction, Obliquus saw that his potent Lightning had broken through the leviathan’s tough hide, skewering the beast’s face.  Grinning wickedly, he doubled his efforts, pouring everything into the Lightning.

Including his own Life energies.

Triumphantly, he roared at the leviathan, the blue-violet Force Storm his raging wrath made manifest.  He was his Emperor’s Champion; no, he was an avatar of the Sith, living receptacle of fur–

[TheDutchman]

Interlude-The Ars Ingens, part IV (cont.)


Laboratory of Karness Muur, cave system on planet Corbos 3622BBY, Aftermath of Phaseera “Senate Day Massacre”

Obliquus once again felt the dizzying effects of vertigo as he flew through the air, his mind uncertain if he was still within the caves or the manufactured rooms.  It was as trivial as the color of his armor but he also knew it for what it was: a psychic assault coordinated to disorient him.  And it worked.  Was he still on Corbos?  Or was he with his Emperor on his flagship, lightsaber in hand defending him from the Jedi who had the impudence to sully his Emperor's presence?  Or was he still on Coruscant, padawan to one of the most powerful Masters of the Orde--

The suddenness and violence with which he stopped discombobulated him, quickly followed by a planet’s worth of pain.  As he attempted to look around, his head was only partially successful, doing so in fits and starts.  Incredibly, he felt no fear…

Pain?  By the Emperor, his entire existence was pain, but fear?  Obliquus knew that he would never, ever feel fear again in what most likely was what remained of his incredibly short life.

“ARRGGGHHHH!!!” A scream erupted in his ears, Obliquus surprised to realize that it was his own.  Turning his head towards this brand new, even sharper pain he calmly took appraisal of his new reality.

What he saw made him want to vomit as well as double his beliefs in his Emperor.

Both of his legs were bent at odd angles, the armor shattered–nevermind his limbs!--while he could see the large, broken stalactite (or was it a stalagmite?) jutting through his ruined cuirass.  With utter nonchalance, he traced the lines of the organic tendrils wrung around the stalactite’s porous surface, slowly realizing that what he was seeing were his own intestines.

But that wasn’t all.

Looking further over, he followed the destroyed plating of his armor from his chest to his shoulder and then down his arm…except that he no longer had an arm or shoulder.  Instead, where the armor (and his body) should be was now the pulsating gigantic mass that was the leviathan’s jaw.

It seemed that he was to be the terror’s next nightly repast.

With almost silent guffaws, Obliquus thought the scene the height of humor.

The leviathan must’ve heard him as the thing’s dead, reddish-black eye burrowed its gaze into the Darth.  Perhaps it was because nothing in its long life had ever caused it such pain, or perhaps it was because one of its meals was laughing at it, or perhaps it was simply because one of its victims had never lived this long.

He honestly couldn’t care less.

He’d given his Ars Ingens, his people, his family time.  They had escaped.  They would live.  And they would resurrect his Emperor.

Obliquus closed his eyes, pain and contentment inundating him.  He just hoped that his end came quickly so as not to dishonor himsel–

“NO!



A savage roar cut through Obliquus' hazy cloud of pain, shunting his consciousness to the forefront.  Faster than his eyes could track (not to mention that they couldn’t focus properly now), a huge, dark gray blur of a shadow exploded in his field of view.

Two things happened simultaneously: firstly, Obliquus found the pressure (but sadly not the pain) released from his side as the leviathan fell back.  But the other…

He wondered if he’d done more damage to his head but Obliquus could’ve sworn that the shadowed blur was Surdus, the enormous human attacking the leviathan with his giant, two-handed lightsaber in the exact place where Obliquus’ lightsaber and later Lightning had lanced it through its mouth before.

A split-second afterwards, he saw both Saggita and Invidia attack, the smaller, olive-skinned Darth plunging her saber-pike deep into the leviathan’s face while Saggita shot Sith Lightning from both of her hands mirroring his own attack from before.  Much like Surdus, both women screamed in defiance and cruelty, their blades and Lightning hitting true.

But louder than all of them was the booming, howling roar of the leviathan.

Rearing on legs thicker than Obliquus was tall, the horror tried to pull its head away from the ground.  Illuminated by the red and reddish-orange plasma blades, the leviathan looked every centimeter of the monster that it was.  Of course this was even more evident from Obliquus’ sitting position impaled upon the stalactite.

As he rotated his eyes upwards–to do more such as move his head would’ve been next to impossible given the pain inundating him–Obliquus saw Surdus make a flying leap onto the terror’s head, propelled by a Force Jump.  Just as the giant man was about to land, he thrust his enormous two-handed lightsaber downward like a lance, plasma blade finally breaking past the tough hide to the softer tissues beneath.  Both of his hands still holding his lightsaber, Surdus used the weapon as a focus and directed all his own Lightning past the deep red blade and into the cauterized hole.

Letting loose a deafening screech, the leviathan’s attention was wholly upon Surdus.  A mistake most grave, Obliquus knew.

When the leviathan had taken to its hindlegs, it had also exposed its underbelly.  Like the rest of its hide, the skin was incredibly thick and resilient…but both Invidia and Saggita were Darths of singular intent.

Covered by Surdus’ assault, the two women struck at the same spot time after time, weakening the tough hide until one of Invidia’s saber-pike slashes made a wide and lasting laceration.  A split second later, both female Darths focused powerful blasts of entwined Force Storm lightning into the leviathan’s injury, producing yet another pained howl.

And still their attacks continued undiminished.

Between the three Darths, they moved, operated, and planned within their BattleMeld, pouring attack after attack at the monstrosity until, finally, the Sithspawn staggered, paused, and toppled over collapsing almost around Obliquus as if it were still trying to claim the grievously injured Darth as its victim.

Sputtering a choking, high pitched shrieking death knell, the leviathan’s body lay very still, a foul-smelling, viscous liquid pouring from the jagged lacerations in its head and belly.  Yet even as the last of the gurgling, dying gasps of the monstrosity had sounded, Obliquus saw his Leviathans, his Ars Ingens surround him.

They all had identical looks of concern upon their faces beneath their cortosis helms, even Invidia whose countenance was rarely anything other than “sadistically petulant.”  Interesting.  Unconsciously, Obliquus spat more blood from his mouth.

“My Lord…” Surdus' voice was quietly rattled, unshed tears in his eyes.  This was a man who hadn’t so much as flinched against attacking the Sithspawn but now suddenly seemed tentative to even touch Obliquus.  “I…” His voice seemed to finally fail him.

“My dearest Obliquus…” Saggita’s regular sarcasm was nowhere in evidence.  By the Emperor even Invidia looked as if she was holding back tears!

“...I…I…must be…dying…” Obliquus jested.  It was a terrible joke, probably from the fact that it was one of his first.

“My dearest Obliquus…” Saggita began again.  “We were able to save Servant Six as well as Darth Parva and two acolytes.” She said the last in just above a whisper, the smeared leviathan blood on her cheek resembling some kind of macabre warpaint.

“...Good…good…” He coughed, the pain ripping through his innards.  Or were they “outards” now that his intestines were no longer within him?  He silently laughed at his own joke.

“You did it, my Lord,” Invidia’s haughty tone was incredibly muted.  “Thank you.”

Obliquus’ eyes widened as far as they’d go; he’d never heard Invidia sincerely apologize.  Ever.  “...the…Emperor…must…be…coming…for…me…” He finished in a whisper, the pain beginning to overtake his cognizant mind.

“Sleep, my Lord.” Invidia’s soft voice felt like a stroke on his cheek.

“Worry not dearest Obliquus.” Saggita’s reassuring tone felt reassuring.

At first Surdus spoke not a word.  But then… “...no…” He whispered.

Everyone turned to the huge man, staring incredulously at him, even Obliquus.  What…what did he mean “no?”

“No.” Gritting his teeth, Surdus' eyes were clamped shut.  “No! NO! NO!” He started screaming as if reciting a litany.  “NO! NO!”  The giant man stood his full height, an aura of power radiating from him.  Obliquus could see that both Invidia and Saggita looked both concerned as well as baffled.

“NO!!” As Surdus roared, his voice echoing throughout the cavernous grotto, he grabbed Obliquus' helmeted head.  And before anyone could react, Surdus enveloped them all in the Dark Side, including the body of the leviathan.  There, using Force Drain, he pulled all that he dared from those around him.

Surdus seemed to glow like some kind of dark star, at least in Obliquus’ eyes.  He knew what it meant: that the giant man was overflowing with Dark Side energies.  But he wasn’t finished.

Grabbing Obliquus' helmet, Surdus wrenched it from his head indifferent of the pain that it caused Obliquus.  Once done, the huge man gently laid his hands upon his Lord’s face and directed every iota of the Dark Side Majicks through Surdus and into Obliquus.

Including the giant human’s own Life Essence.

The results, to say the least, were astounding.

Obliquus sat motionless as he stared first at the stump of his shoulder and watched his arm begin to regrow.  Simultaneously, he felt a rushed, jerking motion from his chest that spiked his pain…but only momentarily.  Looking down, he saw that Surdus had removed the stalactite, breaking it off and pulling it the remainder of the way through him.  Such pain almost made him lose consciousness.  Almost.

A split second later, the pain was merely a thing of the past, and the shredded viscera of his belly and chest began to reknit itself back inside his body.

Obliquus must’ve been either subconsciously aware of his surroundings or was, by virtue of the Healing, hyperaware of the minutiae as he could’ve sworn that the glowing, pulsating points of light on the leviathan’s back had gone first dim and then completely dark.  He wasn’t certain why–or even if–that was pertinent but he registered it nonetheless.

But that was not all.

His own shattered legs began to straighten themselves, bone, muscle, and sinew reknitting itself, once again fresh and whole.  By the Emperor, even Obliquus’ eyesight had finally improved!

And like a switch, Obliquus jumped up…just as Surdus collapsed.

Surprised, he caught the giant man in his arms, arms now robust, whole, and radiating power when Obliquus received another shock: Surdus’ once powerful and bulky body was now a shell of its former self, his once handsome face haggard, sunken, and sepulchral.  And while he wasn’t dead–not yet–Surdus would be in a short amount of time.

Aware (or hyperaware as was), Obliquus stood and scanned all that he saw.  He was whole; no, not just “whole.”  He felt better than he ever had before: stronger, faster, more resilient.  By the Emperor, he was stronger in the Force than he'd ever been before!  ...How…?

But as he continued to look about the cavern (at least as far as he could see), he saw that Darths Saggita and Invidia were unconscious, each woman looked more sickly and wan from the first time they'd contributed to the Force Drain.  Concerned, he Delved both women; they were weak and drained but otherwise unmolested.  Good.  Whatever Surdus had done it seemed that he’d been careful not to draw too much from them…

Turning his head–no pain at all–Servant Six was also still on the ground, her normally vibrant red skin subdued with a gray pallor to it.  But slowly her eyes fluttered open.

“...my…my Lord…?” She whispered.

Ignoring the unspoken question, Obliquus went to her, immediately Delving the Sith Pureblood.  Like Invidia and Saggita, she was drained but otherwise no worse for the wear.  Again, good.

“Lady, tell me: you said that you would tell me more about this place as soon as we were established here.  However, I need to know now if there is something here, something that you know that can help my Ars Ing--” Obliquus shook his head, emotions welling up.  “That can help Surdus.  Now.”  The tall Darth indicated the withered husk that had been Surdus.  “He’ll die and soon unless you can help me.”  Then Obliquus said something that he’d never remembered doing before: “Please.”

Servant Six’s yellow eyes lost their focus but only for a few seconds.  She then slowly began to nod her head.  “I…yes, my Lord…I do believe that I can help you with that…” She seemed to gain in strength with every second.  “In fact, I think that I can help all of the Ars Ingens here…”

Obliquus slowly nodded at first, a rare emotion that he’d not felt since…well, since losing his Emperor growing from within.  If Servant Six was right, then he could dare… He nodded once, helping her up.  “Thank you.”  Servant Six smiled, something intrinsically pleasant from such a simple gesture…

…But one that had given him that which he was convinced that he’d lost:

Hope.

[Lord_S_Gray]

Leviathans fighting 'Leviathans;, something poetic about that, yet horrifically so as one considers Dutch incredibly visceral descriptions of the horror of the Sithspawn creature and its hideous effects on those who are unlucky enough to get anywhere near it. 

The chapter certainly provides a contrast between the Ars Ingens brutal Senate day massacre -  showing Olibquus ruthlessness and mastery of the resources at his command. (One wonders if he wasn't in a sense venting some frustration in his clinical way with that plan as opposed to relying on infiltrators to reach the crash site.)  Contrast to their utter struggle against the Leviathan, and even diminishment in numbers over time, for every partial success they have a significant setback it seems. A great glimpse into a dangerous time

 
On a larger scale there is a crucial line here "On Phaseera, “Sith” and “Jedi” loyalties meant nothing to either the Imperials or the Republicans.  They had aligned themselves against his Ars Ingens and, therefore, his Emperor.  They would all die."
This perhaps codifies something the Ars Ingens already felt - they are servants, first and foremost of the Emperor, the label of 'Sith' is ancillary, not fundamental.

This is further developed as he rails on Corbos against the Sith themselves, and considers the necessity of the Emperor - it's perhaps the start of the core of a philosophy that we see developed millenia later in the Mid Draggluch, albeit with a far more religious tone with the Emperor as divine saviour (as well as political that Obliquus seems to have solely in mind), taught by Darth Maephis [at such vast distance in time and culture one can appreciate significant conceptual drift]. 

And given the other Leviathans sacrifice to preserve Obliquus it may yet develop further.

One can easily see in the way Surdus, Saggitara and Invidia sacrifice themselves for Obliquus that they are far from later variants of 'Sith', might is still right, but it's taken at a group level not individual. That they do focus on saving Obliquus shows their commitment and utter faith in him to lead and see the Emperors plans enacted (earned for nothing else in his success in keeping their force together despite the chaos around them).  Yet Obliquus too seeks to save them in turn, for practical, and one suspects even if not admitted to him personal reasons (more than justified practically given their high value and ability).

I suspect his restoration will only strengthen his commitment further, but I wonder what Obliquus will become without his companions to guide / restrain him if he can't save them?

And there is the broader context, now all the players are on Corbos albeit millenia apart and one side presumably long dead...but given what Oran has fallen into and the other machinery of the labs that Gaetana seeks and the Sixth servants advice...perhaps not all dead....

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to For Tyeth for the awesome visuals!  This chapter is dedicated to him 
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Chapter 9: Who, If I Cried Out, Would Hear Me Amongst the Angels?, part I
As D’Aylanna proceeded deeper into the Laboratory, she came across more traps, although these were obviously afterthoughts compared to the one she just barely escaped: one was a simple crossfire trap with several blasters (easily reflected&destroyed with her lightsaber), a few having attenuated from age; another was a gas-trap (easily foiled by her armor’s sealed helmet); and yet another was a cage-trap (again, dealt with by her lightsaber).

But she wasn’t so lucky with the last trap.

Traversing yet another innocuous tunnel, D’Aylanna’s Force Prescience prompted her to react: as four barrels emerged from underneath durasteel panels, she rolled forward intent on dodging the expected blasterfire, relying on her armor to protect her from shrapnel or ricochet. 

In one fluid movement, she shot forth upon the deck making herself as small as possible before regaining her feet, her ignited lightsaber held at the ready.  Thankfully, her helmet had remained sealed from the previous gas attack.

Instead of plasma bolts, the ejectors had shot four concentrated ominous clouds of some kind of viscous substance, quickly expanding throughout the hallway.  Consulting her armor’s sensors, she checked for biotoxins, acids, and other airborne agents.

Nothing.

But she remained unconvinced that such an attack would somehow be benign.  And she was absolutely right.

Soon her HUDs¹ began to flash red.  Quickly her dark eyes scanned certain possibilities from dropdown menus as more data was analyzed.  Her eyes widened as the diagnosis scrolled along her face shield’s chyron: her armor was compromised.  But how?

Swiftly she acted, slapping certain hardpoints on her armor causing them to disengage.  Within seconds she had doffed every armor piece as she stood staring at the now-smoking suit.  Breathing carefully, she consulted her eye’s internal HUD for confirmation of her armor’s status.

It was a customized attack consisting of nanobot ECM² biogel rendered aerosol.  In other words: a precise strike specifically against Vhal’Dan nano-weave armor.  ...Damn you, Gaetana… D’Aylanna cursed, more angry at herself for not considering that the former Gray Master would’ve set countermeasures in place to explicitly deal with anyone from the Order.

Oh, the armor itself would autorepair from the attack with enough Dover Catalyst³…but it would take time, especially to fend off an attack of this magnitude and specificity.  Stoically, D’Aylanna turned on her heel, leaving the now-useless armor in the tunnel, feeling slightly naked in her form-fitting, dark, svelte undersheath.

Undaunted, she gripped her lightsaber tighter, conscious of the lack of her reassuring defenses.  But what was it that the former Inquisitor was trying to accomplish?

Yet another example of Gaetana’s maddeningly inconsistent behavior: first she tried to kill her, then there were the other traps that were clearly intended to capture, while others still seemed to specifically target any advantage D’Aylanna had.

What was the tralk up to?

Not waiting for an answer–besides: D’Aylanna was convinced that there wasn’t a satisfactory one to be had here anyhow–the diminutive Speaker cautiously continued further within the caves, one room, one tunnel, one cavern looking much like the next…

…Until she stepped foot through a galactic standard manufactured doorway, the kind found in bases and capital ships throughout.  Looking around, D’Aylanna knew that she was now in the Laboratory proper, displays and holoreadouts projected along the computer banks filling the walls of the enormous chamber.  Conspicuously, she noticed one holographic image blinking as if paused.  Sighing and with her ignited saber in hand, she went over to the table, briefly examining the controls before being convinced that she could operate them.

Clearly someone had updated the hardware as very little of the console remained from its original manufacture some 3,500 years ago and, unless she missed her guess, by someone very familiar with Vhal’Dan computing protocols.  Smirking, D’Aylanna knew that it must have been left for her.  The question remained: did she activate it or no?

Never one to conform, she took a third option: ignore it and find Gaetana.

As if thinking of the tralk manifested Gaetana, she felt a familiar presence to her left flank, her purple lightsaber humming loudly as she quickly assumed a guarded defensive sword kata.  Once again, D’Aylanna keenly felt the loss of her armor, the biomechanical undersheath making her feel exposed.  ...Focus…! She admonished herself, dark eyes searching, clear, and ready.

Standing on the opposite side of the large room stood a young, tall Togrutan woman, a saberstaff held casually in her fist.  She wore utilitarian tunics and hakama, her bare orange arms all the more brighter compared to her clothes.  And within the recognizable face belonging to her adopted daughter stared instead the fierce yellow eyes belonging to a Sith.

Gaetana Ravine, Darth Mendax.

Smiling widely, her teeth glowed a preternatural red reflecting the blades of her saberstaff.  “Hello Mother.” She welcomed, her voice taunting, face radiating assuredness and an almost casual sadism.  ...Of course… D’Aylanna thought.

“You will not escape, Gaetana.  Not this time.” She promised.  But if the other woman felt any trepidation, nothing of it showed upon her face.

“Oh Mother…who said anything about ‘escape?’” She lightly laughed, giving her saberstaff an easy flourish.  She suddenly stopped, gesturing towards her neck with her empty hand in mock surprise.  “Or…haven’t you yet guessed why we’re here?”  Grinning evilly, she laughed.

But D’Aylanna was not fooled an iota: this tralk may very well wear her daughter’s face and speak with her voice but that would not stop her from doing what needed be done.  She knew that she was saving Jorya, that she was saving the Vhal’Dan, that she was avenging her Shakal.  She was fully committed now.

“Power, Gaetana.  It’s what you’ve always coveted.” The small Hapan woman allowed herself to smile at the unfeigned shock spreading across the Togrutan’s face.  “You maybe many things, Mendax, but you’ve never been as clever as you believe.”  D’Aylanna adopted an imperious bent to her face, a magistrate weighing the accused, and having found them wanting.  “Not by half.”  With a flourish of her lightsaber, D’Aylanna’s face changed, her countenance more like one of the Hapan Noh Death Masks.  For this, she was the Marquesa of the Hapes Cluster; she was 7th Speaker of the Vhal’Dan Order; she was simultaneously both…and they stood in judgement of the traitor, Gaetana Ravine.  “I’ve always been your better, Mendax.” She pronounced, her voice merciless.  “Now come and accept Oblivion.”

“I am far more powerful than you are, quim.” Gaetana spat, seething.  “Deep” within, Kadmaur tried “talking” to Gaetana but was summarily rebuffed.  And “deeper” still Jorya waited, watching for the opening that she desperately desired.  “And I’ve brought you here to prove it.  And this time your fat, pfassk of a husband isn’t here to help you.”

Both D’Aylanna and Jorya took notice of two conspicuous changes to Gaetana: the first was just how much the normally stoic woman was unhinged, curses and expletives falling from her mouth; the second was her decidedly subjective memory considering her last confrontation with D’Aylanna on Geonosis⁴.

Within, Jorya began to wonder just how much of Gaetana had “survived” the Essence Transfer, especially given the imperfect Possession of her body.  But it did reinforce her earlier determination.  ...the right time… She promised.

All of that within the split second between Gaetana’s taunting and her sudden and rabid attack of D’Aylanna.  Jorya was at least 30cm taller than D’Aylanna and Gaetana had been even taller still.  But the height disparity wasn’t the only inconsistency between the two women: D’Aylanna could feel it radiating from her opponent.

Gaetana was stronger than her in the Force; that in itself was remarkable.

Amongst the Vhal’Dan, D’Aylanna had always been one of the strongest Forceusers in the Order, notably moreso than Gaetana had been.

That was no longer so.

D’Aylanna suddenly found herself on the defensive, her careful swordwork parrying the incoming offensive as Gaetana pressed the much smaller woman hard.

“Yes!” Gaetana hissed, her saberstaff twirling, parrying, crashing into D’Aylanna’s purple blade.  “I know that you can feel it too!”  Pushing D’Aylanna off her blade, she projected a potent Force Push against the Hapan Speaker, sending her flying through the air.

D’Aylanna tucked into a ball, somersaulting and landing gracefully on her feet several meters away.  Thoroughly convinced, she knew beyond a doubt that somehow Gaetana had grown in the Force.  By what mechanism she could only guess and at this point what did it really matter?

Time and again Gaetana utilized her strength in the Force to harass D’Aylanna, from horrid manifestations to attempted manipulations as the former Inquisitor tried a variety of Force attacks, all of them thwarted by the stoic, diminutive Speaker.  Crazed, Gaetana shrieked with impotence as everything she tried was foiled, and with seemingly little-to-no effort as D’Aylanna remained completely stoic in the face of her opponent’s fury and agitation.  Deliberately, she allowed herself a small smile hoping to fluster the former Inquisitor.  She didn’t have to wait long as it turned out.

Screaming, Gaetana was upon her in an instant, her saberstaff working furiously against her defenses.  Once again, D’Aylanna could feel the increased strength in the Force…but as only measured in raw power.

D’Aylanna’s normally stoic face produced a wide grin, giving even Gaetana and Kadmaur pause.

There were other things, other considerations, that were superior to power.

Suddenly D’Aylanna switched Forms, transitioning from her Soresu to the hybrid Form VI that she’d developed herself after thoroughly studying Master Gray (and later Kage) Stryka Annix’s sword kata holocron.  And yes, she had taught Jorya a bit…but not anywhere close to everything.

Quicker than thought, Gaetana found herself giving ground, D’Aylanna’s purple saber seemingly everywhere at once.  She was even faster than the last time that Gaetana had fought her!

How?

But there was no answer forthcoming; instead, D’Aylanna’s saberwork was unrelenting: it was the Hapan Speaker that directed the flow and tempo of the battle.  Gaetana knew of the shorter woman’s mastery with a lightsaber–by the Maker she’d had violent nightmares solely about that fact!--but what she now faced…

D’Aylanna had surpassed even Gaetana’s highest expectations of what a Blademaster could be.

If she had bothered to ask–not that Gaetana ever would’ve thought of doing so–the former Inquisitor would’ve laughed at the irony behind D’Aylanna’s current skill: after her attack and subsequent abduction by her cousin T’Atyanna⁵ and the possession of Jorya immediately following those events, D’Aylanna had worked overtime to improve.  For herself, for her Shakal, for the Vhal’Dan…

For her daughter.

And D’Aylanna never did anything in half-measures.  As Gaetana could at the moment entirely attest to: the diminutive woman had her completely outclassed.

Rage, impotent and consuming, threatened to overwhelm Gaetana, a fact coldly noticed by Jorya.  ...now…? She wondered.  If she’d possessed lips, she would’ve bitten them in uncertainty.  Instead, she waited, watching as both Gaetana and Kadmaur began to radiate increasing panic.

For Gaetana, Power was the only real capital that mattered, a fact that her childhood had more than proven to her.  Indeed, her very life’s pursuit had been predicated upon that lesson.  Unfortunately for her, she’d forgotten that there were always multiple paths towards said power.

“Argh!” Gaetana exclaimed as D’Aylanna’s blade seared the orange skin of her shoulder, more an irritant than an actual wound.  But it did what D’Aylanna intended: Gaetana completely let loose her fury and, as a consequence, her control.

Gathering the Dark Side, Gaetana screamed in both frustration and hate as a powerful storm of Force Lightning erupted from her left hand while her right twirled her saberstaff.

Without even the briefest of hesitancy, D’Aylanna caught the entirety of the Lightning in her left hand protected by tutaminis, her right elegantly riposting her lightsaber against Gaetana’s saberstaff.  Twisting her wrist, the Hapan Master tangled Gaetana’s saberstaff against her, involuntarily exposing the taller woman’s right arm.

Gaetana heard herself scream, a shrill, shocked screeching sound full of pain and disbelief as D’Aylanna’s purple blade made a tight orbit chopping down upon her hand, cutting through the top of her hand as well as the saberstaff hilt, sending the now-useless weapon flying…along with three of Jorya’s fingers.  Simultaneously, D’Aylanna redirected the collected Lightning back at Gaetana, squarely hitting her body, resulting in another yelp of pained indignation.

But D’Aylanna wasn’t finished.

Before the Force Lightning had dissipated, D’Aylanna moved.  With a running jump, she flew through the air, quickly spinning as she did so, perfectly targeting Gaetana’s head.  With bone-crunching violence, D’Aylanna’s reinforced heel connected with Gaetana’s face, fracturing her jaw and orbital and knocking the Togruta down to the deck, hard.

Dazed, confused, and nauseous, Gaetana tried to clear the cobwebs from her head as pain, disbelief, and self-disgust coursed through her.  The solid weight of a boot clamping down upon her left hand helped her, giving her immediate clarity.  And understanding.

...No!  I canNOT die!  Not again!  Not this way!  I…I must live…! Gaetana worryingly thought, a scream reverberating in her mind.  Frantically, she strove to act, to think of a way, to do something!

Time slowed.  Looming large above the Togruta, D’Aylanna stared down at her.  Not at her daughter, no; she glared into the yellow Sith eyes of a Sith, of Mendax.  Within the Hapan woman’s delicate hand her lightsaber hummed, its deadly blade a reminder to Gaetana that only those with the most power survived.

The former Inquisitor felt a slick, repulsive desperation.  She didn’t want to die but what else could she do?  She half-heard Kadmaur telling her to do something, to take the tralk with them, some kind of immolating Kinetite, they might–might!--survive it… No, no.  D’Aylanna wouldn’t possibly kill her own daughter… Surely not…

All doubt fled from Gaetana when she looked deep into D’Aylanna’s dark eyes.  They were utterly pitiless, belonging to both predator and executioner.

Terrified beyond anything she’d ever felt before, Gaetana didn’t hesitate at all: she would create the Kinetite and detonate it immediat–

Gaetana swiftly inhaled, her jaw slack as her eyes went as wide as possible.

She no longer had any control over Jorya’s body.

D’Aylanna’s lightsaber sliced downwards, the Executioner’s cut intent upon ending Gaetana’s threat to her Shakal once and for all.

And Gaetana could do nothing.

   <<<<< >>>>>

Jorya could now “see” the cracks in Gaetana’s control, a hair-thread-thin gap that was as wide as a chasm.  Both Gaetana and Kadmaur were too busy to notice, especially as the duel between them and Mother continued to worsen.  Still, Jorya wasn’t certain if she could maintain control, much less for how long.

But she could feel both of the Shards’ incredulity: together, they were more powerful than the diminutive Hapan woman.  How is it that she could be that much better than they?

...because you pfassks… Jorya smiled at the thought.  ...Mother is the best…  She felt bittersweet at the thought: yes, she would never see Father or Mother again but neither would the Shards survive…

Jorya felt an immense welling of pride and satisfaction even as pain encroached upon her as Mother’s blade cut through her hand, the Lightning that Gaetana had cast was reflected back hitting her bodily.  Not even the devastating kick that Mother delivered could dampen Jorya’s gratification at the Shards’ defeat. 

“Do something!” Kadmaur exclaimed.  It was the first time that Jorya had heard any kind of panic from the Shard.  “This tralk is going to kill us!”

“Be silent!” Gaetana yelled, choking fear pulsating from the Shard.

“Kinetite!  If we detonate it here, now, we might survive it..” Kadmaur went from shouting to a muttering whisper.

Jorya could only smile.  True, it cost her a busted jaw and cheek but it woul–

“DO IT!” Gaetana screamed.  If she’d possessed teeth here, they would’ve ground against one another in a clenched command.  There was a subtle shift as Gaetana began to hand off control to Kadmaur.

...no…! Jorya thought, her love and concern for Mother immediately prompting her to action.

Within the needle-thin chasm between both Gaetana and Kadmaur, Jorya thrust her Will forward.  Shunting both utterly surprised Shards aside, Jorya took full control of herself in an instant.

Suddenly, the wispy beginnings of the Kinetite orb that both Gaetana and Kadmaur had begun to initiate evaporated in light of Jorya’s control.

They would not harm Mother!

Jorya smiled wickedly, an unexpected calm settling over her.  What is it that Father had once told her?  Something about when he had the former Inquisitor–oh yes…

“Gaetana…” She made certain that she had that frellik’s attention.  “...Open your arms wide, you tralk!” Jorya barked at the former Inquisitor as she saw Mother’s lightsaber descend upon them.

   <<<<< >>>>>
__________________________________________________________________
1. HUD: Heads Up Display
2. ECM: Electronic Counter-Measures
3. As seen in LSG’s outstanding Remnant Of the Aether CH.48, Part VII “Oblivion Gray-Ultima Ratio-
https://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=44181.msg796455#msg796455
4. As seen w-a-a-y-y-y back in Shadow Etude CH.14, “Contrapasso, part II”-
https://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=36277.msg600543#msg600543
5. As seen back in Queen&Marquesa, Executioner&Cataphract CH.3, “Sins Of A Forgotten Past, part II”-
https://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=48094.msg798416#msg798416

[TheDutchman]

Chapter 9: Who, If I Cried Out, Would Hear Me Amongst the Angels?, part II
As the hissing sounded from in front of him, Or’an’s Hyperrage continued to pump natural stimulants throughout his system, causing his already enormous muscles to grow.  

With eyes that could see in complete darkness, the Tof could make out several pulsating squares of light, the translucent quality of the illumination reminding him of a mythical creature that he’d once read about: a fire-fly.

The musky smell of earth, ancient flora, and desiccated limbs filled his nose along with something much, much more potent…

His ears caught the low, guttural growling of the gigantic animal in front of him, the thing’s movements punctuated by its enormous limbs as muscle and sinew stretched from the disuse of hibernation, not that it seemed to affect the thing’s activity.

As it rose on thick, solid legs, Or’an saw as its mouth grew from a line into a gaping, wide maw filled with jagged teeth, tongues, and other things too hideous to guess at.  With an inrush of air, the thing then exhaled, roaring as it did so.

Or’an could smell the overwhelming putrifaction on the thing’s hot breath, the ground still reverberating from the massive roar.

The Hamask was moved not one millimeter.

Igniting his huge, two-handed Beskar Breaker, a massive two-and-a-half meter blade of orange plasma sprang forth.  Simultaneously, Or’an’s own answering roar echoed throughout the gigantic chamber, his voice powered by his Hyperrage.

The thing seemed to pause, perhaps in response to the fact that nothing it had ever come across before had answered its roaring challenge with one of their own.

As the orange blade cast shadows across the thing, Or’an could now see that it had skin like brown granite, multiple dark eyes, and appendages around the gaping hole in its head that was a mouth.  Whenever it dipped its head, he could also make out the glowing patches on its broad back, pulsing as if with a life of its own.

Again Or’an screamed at the thing, a deep, bass roar that filled the air, massive arms spread wide while holding his zweihander in one huge hand.

The tiny compartmentalized part of his cognitive mind realized that the thing must be some kind of Sithspawn, the spare rumors rooted back to the Hundred-Year Darkness likewise giving Or’an a possible identifier for the monster…

A leviathan.

Or’an couldn’t help but grin.  Even if half of the admittedly few stories pertaining to the leviathans were true, then the Tof was in for a glorious fight, one worthy of his mettle.  It would be marvelous: he and the leviathan locked into singular combat, the pure brutality of nature the only “rules” to be followed.

Again, he bellowed a mighty roar from his chest, this one supplemented by the Force, a clarion call announcing a contest of unvarnished strength of purpose between the two combatan–

Suddenly, his voice cracked, Or’an’s eyes widening as his ears registered movement and sounds.

Except that these did not come from the leviathan in front of him.

With deadly realization, the Hamask heard as another, then another, four, no…a full half-dozen different sources sounded around him.  Wrapped in his Hyperrage, he knew that he was now surrounded by no less than six leviathans, and quite possibly more…

As one, the leviathans screamed at Or’an, the six of them closing around him.

Heart pumping, muscles bulging, Or’an’s Hyperrage went into overdrive, the Tof physiological response to imminent danger powering his movements.  He ran towards the nearest leviathan.

And, as one, the leviathans attacked.



   <<<<< >>>>>

As D’Aylanna went on the offensive, she drew upon her now well-practiced Form VI.  The katas that she’d learned–no, mastered--from Stryka Annix were incredible: adaptive, innovative, and fluid, she was able to take control of the lightsaber battle in seconds.

A part of her smiled almost wistfully: Father Kazic would have been immensely proud.

He’d spoken of his own Master, always with a note of reverence and respect, especially about how Stryka Annix had been such a dynamic and competent Kage for the Vhal’Dan almost a millennia ago.  Certainly he’d always told D’Aylanna that he had wished that he could’ve been at least half the Gray Jedi that Stryka had been.  But that had not been all.

In the Annals of the Vhal’Dan Order, there were certain names that had been carried down through the Order’s history, the names of the Vhal’Dan Blademasters immortalized for posterity: Cir-Lan Macias, Dorne Vetruvius, Saani K’aval, Zronn Kål Tarjo, Anson D’Aklon, Auryn Kerosin’e to name but a few…but to Kazic, the greatest swordsperson of them all had been Stryka Annix.

Garbed in only her black biomechanical undersheath, D’Aylanna was virtually untouchable, her purple blade deflecting both incoming crimson blades, pushing–punishing--Gaetana to her limits…and beyond.



D’Aylanna had been amongst Kazic’s final cohort of apprentices but he knew that she would become the greatest of his pupils, always certain that she was destined to ascend to the office of Arbiter if not that of Kage.  And it was with a Father’s love and pride that he gifted her one of Stryka Annix’s holocrons, specifically the records of her sword mastery and the variant Niman Form VI that she herself had invented.

As Stryka’s successor, D’Aylanna had proven Kazic’s choice and faith in her the absolute correct decision.

D’Aylanna had used the experiences of her abduction by the Hapes Consortium as well as Gaetana’s betrayal to motivate her to truly better herself, to be worthy of Kazic’s belief in her as well as the inheritor of Stryka’s martial knowledge.

If T’Atyanna had faced her now instead of before, D’Aylanna knew that she would not have been captured.  Easily she intercepted a quick pair of successive strikes from her opponent’s saberstaff, her lightsaber an impenetrable shield protecting her.

As Gaetana did everything she possibly could, pulling all knowledge and skills from her repertoire (and some that weren’t, courtesy of Kadmaur), D’Aylanna continued to adapt, never once allowing her opponent the opportunity to regain control.  She parried, riposting quickly and following up with a quick kick to her opponent’s midsection, connecting squarely and slowing the taller woman down.

She had made promises: she would protect her Shakal, she would destroy Gaetana, she would save her daughter.  Her blade parried high, allowing her to shoot a dazing left-handed jab to her opponent’s face.

Repeating it as her personal mantra, D’Aylanna pushed Gaetana further and further back, always and inevitably towards the proverbial precipice.  She would not allow the tralk to escape, she would not allow her to continue her reign of terror, she would not allow her to live.  Ducking underneath the twin-orbits of her opponent’s red blades, D’Aylanna pivoted on her heel, delivering a devastating closed-fist backhand.

Gaetana blinked furiously in an attempt to clear the fog from her vision, blood dripping from her nose as well as the corner of her mouth.

The moment that D’Aylanna had orchestrated and waited for finally happened: Gaetana’s focus shattered, her control suddenly superceded by raw emotion.  Snarling, the former Inquisitor projected a potent storm of Force Lightning.  D’Aylanna had anticipated such, preparing herself for the electrical onslaught.

And at the correct moment, she “caught” the projected Lightning, saving it as both distraction as well as reprisal.  

Just as D’Aylanna suspected, Gaetana’s emotions supplanted her mind as she twisted her lightsaber ‘round and again, pinning the former Inquisitor’s saberstaff by her hip.  While caught, D’Aylanna swiftly chopped down, slicing not only through the saberstaff but also through three fingers.

Pain, sharp and immediate, sent shockwaves up Gaetana’s arm…which was about all the time that she had to focus on before her own redirected Lightning slammed back into her, sending her bodily into the air.  Only D’Aylanna wasn’t finished: powered by the Force, she flew through the air, reinforced heel connecting violently with her opponent’s face.

D’Aylanna heard the satisfactory crunch as bones broke, Gaetana falling to the deck like a broken ragdoll.  Landing easily on her feet, she sauntered over to her fallen opponent.

Stepping on her outreached hand, D’Aylanna stared down at her defeated foe, eyes pitiless.  What she saw only served to reinforce her convictions: those yellow Sith eyes darted to-and-fro, absolute panic and dread oozing from them.

Raising her lightsaber, D’Aylanna knew that she was the Order’s Justice, her Shakal’s avenging angel, her daughter’s vengeance made manifest, merciless and undeterred.

Gaetana would die.

On the downward cut, D’Aylanna’s eyes never once broke the shared gaze between her and her opponent.



…Which was why she saw the Togruta’s eyes turn from yellow to blue.

From one blink to the next, she saw them change, the look upon the Togruta’s face transforming from frightened and spiteful to committed and expectant.  Two centimeters from the Togruta’s face, her purple blade stopped cold, not even wavering a millimeter as she gazed longingly into those eyes of purest sapphire.

These were not the eyes of a Sith; these were the eyes of her daughter, Jorya.

D’Aylanna knew what she could and could not do…and she could not kill her daughter.  Not like this, not ever.

“Do it, Mother.” Jorya’s hard voice commanded, tone pitiless.  “Do it.  Please.” Despite the words, her tone was neither pleading nor frightened.

D’Aylanna’s dark eyes began to water, love, pride, and exhaustion slamming into her like a mag-train.  Gaetana was her target, was her’s to vanquish…but not Jorya.

Stepping back, D’Aylanna silently cried.  “I love you, Dear One.” She whispered.  “I…I can’t.”  Back straightening, she spoke louder.  “I won’t.” The word hung in the air with a note of finality.

Jorya’s face softened, her own blue eyes glassy with unshed tears.  “They were going to...I couldn't let them hurt you...I love you, Mom.”  She lay down on the ground, eyes closing.

Feeling the weight of the planet upon her shoulders, D’Aylanna’s arms hung at her side.  She would think of…of something she promised.  Inadvertently, she realized that she was humming a tune, one that she used to sing whenever Jorya was having nightmares all those years ago.

They were the notes of a Hapan lullaby.  “I will help you, Dear One.” She said, voice tired yet hopeful.  “Don’t worry…”

“I know.” Jorya whispered.  Then she opened her eyes.

D’Aylanna noticed two things simultaneously: 1) that the yellow Sith eyes had returned, only this time they were rimmed with red, and 2) that in Jorya’s outstretched hand stuck out the short barrel of a holdout blaster.

Before she could react, D’Aylanna saw the blue plasma ring of a Stun shot fill her vision, knocking her insensate.  And right before she lost consciousness, she saw the Togruta rise on unsteady legs, favoring her wounded hand, staring down at her as a wicked grin spread across her face.

“Now you’re mine…”

[Lord_S_Gray]

At last D’alyanna is face to face, or more precisely eye to Sith eye – with Gaetana, and the Hapan blademaster proves herself superior in every dimension, unsurprising in some ways given the fractured nature of Gaetana’s (and Kadmaurs lesser) control, multiplied by her inherent and growing mental instability that Jory and D’alayanna have both noted is well beyond the power hungry Gaetana’s ‘normal’ level of psychopathy.

In spite of D’Alyanna’s focused, tactical and relentless assault, dominating the battle from the start, steeled by intensive training since her run in with T’atyanna -  there is a tragic irony in the outcome of this duel – D’Alyanna was more than able to kill Gaetana in Jorya’s body, was millimeters away from it…but Jorya intervening when she did arguably upset the whole thing – rather than helping her mother as intended she has just caused her to lose.  D’Alyanna could kill Jorya’s body, but not Jorya herself-  as completely understandable as that is…it may have doomed them both.

Meanwhile Oran faces a multiple of Leviathans in the depths of Corbos.  It’s kind of amusing that Gaetana probably unintentionally / unknowingly saved herself from Oran through that first and most dangerous of traps.  Unable to last particularly long against D’Alyanna, Gaetana would’ve been shredded by the hyperrage fuelled Oran in half that time – and he would most certainly not have stopped when Jorya took control.

And yes fantastic visuals by For here especially the last image of D'Alyanna. Great chapter title too not sure what Angels might oversee the Star Wars galaxy and be listening to their please...but certainly I don't think any of the characters would truly want any of those who consider themselves 'gods' hearing them.