At Hero's End (Pt.2)

[Jacobi Wylcott]

---STYGIAN CALDERA - R-5
---MORABAND

---CITADEL OF THE DARK LORD OF THE SITH

Another mass transport ship slowly trolled by in the distance. It was a basic transport heavy lifter and underneath its belly was a gargantuan size cell. Plated with armor and bound by sigils of the ancient arts of the Sith. Runic carvings into the steel itself what seemed to glow or even perhaps smolder. The bars of the cell were only there so that the creature within could breathe. The visual of the monster within was broken up - but none could tell themselves that whatever that crated cell stored was nothing short of a living nightmare. Two additional ferries slid from the direction of the Great Tower of the Sovereign in the east. High did the tower stand that its highest peak rested within tumultuous clouds where a silent thunder rolled the the Dark Side of the Force itself seemed to growl with promise. These ferries rose into the highest levels of the atmosphere where they were lifted one by one into the grand belly of a massive warship with a curved prowl - it looked like a horrific talon curled and pointing at the doomed prey before it.

The Harbinger a truly vast Destroyer class warship. Ships soared through the skies in their hundreds, insects buzzing near the hive. Another lifter was coming down to the front courtyard in the shadow of the Citadel. Standing in front of a framed cell three or even four times the size of the previous crated cages - was an absolute horror. An abomination of natural creation. A form of monstrous calamity that should never have been.

In that moment leathery wings unfurled and twin heads lifted unto the sun and the moons of Moraband after long necks of sinuous muscle wired like cables beneath dragon scales as thick and tough as the most tempered slats of armor. A body so massive it took four giant legs to drive it forward that themselves were the size of the mighty trees of Kashyyyk. A vast tail ran a length full and a third of he body. Enormous spines ran the length of the spine and tail and each of these terrible thorns swelled with some of the most potent venom in the known galaxy. Capable of corrosion nigh on instantaneous.

A feral twin roar filled the skies and the slaves of Moraband wailed in utter fear and trepidation at this unearthly predator. As Darth Tormentous viewed the beast from his balcony on high, the monstrous creature eyed him with four hungry eyes - and tilted the twin maws to bow in reverence. So gave voice to the creature’s name from the Dark Lord himself, an outstretched hand to summon his absolute authority and dominion over the monstrosity. “Kraujas Ntima!” Again the Battle Hydra lifted maws to the sky and gave unto the Darkness a cry so terrible that the skies bled in its wake.

Receding dutifully into its confinement the creature was ferried as well to the hold of the Harbinger. Accomplished, Tormentous retired back to the interior of his Citadel where he arrived at the foot of the Throne of Skulls. There before the throne stood the Jidai Maras itself and so the Dark One took up his war blade and the Darkness only swelled around him.

In the coming hours he concluded his business within the Citadel and he departed to the landing pad where his Sith Infiltrator the Specter awaited, prepped and at his call. Once the ship was in the air the Infiltrator circled the vast parade ground where over three hundred Sith Warriors were arrayed in blocked formations of fifty strong. Each being loaded onto troop transport barges heading for the ship awaiting them in low orbit. Among the shuttles rising into the skies was one such shuttle carrying Darth Tormentous’ new Champions, five massive Massassi Warriors. They were the chieftains of Tormentous’ Massassi hordes that were already loaded into the belly of the Harbinger.

So it was that the Red Cauldron prepared itself for war.

[Professor Mors]

When Sa’ato initially contemplated his new life as a galactic dissident and terrorist, the present situation was hardly his first thought. Though he was grateful to not be posted in the vanguard or a recon team, the Neti did not expect to find himself running a literal taxi service. It appeared that what his young master had in mind was no mere assault, but a full-blown riot of orgiastic ramifications. So it was, much to the professor’s private annoyance, that he was tasked with ferrying a most unscrupulous bunch of characters to the Sith’s target.

The fanatics certainly lived up to the word itself. Clad in matching, albeit tattered robes, they wandered about the cargo hold of the Mudhorn with an aimless, glassy look in their eyes. Knives, grisly whips, and other foul tools adorned their died belts with little care for subtlety. What shook Sa’ato the most however, was the masochistic carvings dotting their blank faces. No simple tattoo would suffice. These men and women had paid with blood and flesh, and even with his fledgling skills, the academic felt their ill presence in the Force fill the corridors like acrid smoke.

“Has Our Lord given the command?”, the cabal’s leader questioned in a raspy voice. “Not yet”, Sa’ato answered with as much evenness of tone as he could muster, “I’m about to send our ready signal in- we should be away shortly”. “Good… good...”, the man wheezed despite lacking any sort of affliction, “Then we go now to pray for Our Master’s victory”. The inscrutable balding figure, who introduced himself only as Chansin, then turned about swiftly, his tunic sweeping across the durasteel floor as he moved toward the lift.

The Neti had made sure to securely lock the captain’s quarters before allowing any of the cultists aboard, and as he dare not attempt to move about in the ship, he resigned himself to confinement in the cockpit. “Crimson Command, this is the Mudhorn”, Sa’ato spoke softly into the ship’s mic as he beamed the various codes to the Harbinger, “All passengers are aboard and prepared for departure: we await your orders”.

[Silas Karn]

A foul voice carried out across the immense valleys out below the Sovereign’s tower. The ancient Sith language bellowed with great inflexion carrying with it a powerful storm. Billowing thunderclouds cascading with lightning and more rain than an entire seasons breadth. The desert sands that had once fully claimed Moraband had, in this one sanctum, given way to miles of swampland to the north further mired with seemingly endless breeding pools. Yet, as one would view the stunning monument belonging to the Left Hand of the Dark Lord, briars, cacti, and an a myriad of otherwise unsustainable life now filled the vistas.

Upon the pinnacle of the impressive heights of the citadel stood the High Priest, staff in hand, feeding the unnatural climate that now struggled to remain a permanent alteration. However, it was not this powerful booming voice but the barbed tones of another almost permanence that claimed the stage. “Still unsatisfied? Do you yet possess an achievable goal?” The Sovereign ceased his mastery of the weather, his speech falling silent as he reclaimed his staff and turned toward the vivid specter. “With true immortality within reach? Of course such gains arrive with a caveat, the caveat. In order for such to be upheld the Force must remain.”

It was a circular argument the pair perpetuated. The Sovereign had anchored his final teacher and the sole entity to whom he sought guidance. This day was different though, as com chatter began to spike exponentially. Ferries soon lifted out from the High Priest’s own holdings as it dawned on Silas that it was finally time, time to fulfill the destiny of a weapon most profane. “Another time…” Waving his left hand the priest dispelled the spirit of betrayal and began the long walk down from the peak of his domain.

Discarding the ceremonial vestiges of his position the Sovereign also left behind the ornate cortosis staff used to focus his manipulations of the weather. Boisterous calls and shouts of bloodlust rang across all local communication channels as the Dark Lord had troubled the waters at the heart of Moraband. For too long the bulwark had remained unbroken and for too long had the Sovereign’s halls lacked a third. As Summoning’s were dispersed throughout the whole of the Red Cauldron the time was finally at hand. Notifying his ever present assassin as to its latest orders the High Priest took his place upon the primary turbolift enroute to base of the magnificent architecture of his keep. One had fallen yet two remain.

[Slade Xandir]

He was silent. Patient. Waiting.

His meditation had ended hours ago, as he, like every other creature aboard this cursed planet had felt the stir of energy long before the lightning struck. However, once the thunder had clapped upon the scored hellskies of Moraband, the Hunter was already on the move. Kraujas Ntima had done its duty, summoning the Dragon King from his silent work, and he repaid the call. Three distinct echoes shadowed that of the Blood Dragon's, one sounding healthy and outright monstrous in weight, the Arkanian Dragon he had raised and outright tamed through both Force Bond and Beastly Mastery, and two others which sounded hollow, howls of history ripped from a restful grace and brought back to bring misery upon all. A silvery glint passed overhead as Wrath had come and collected his Master on the bonedust and blood dried sands of Tormentous' world. It was a flash of sterling and white, a thin shape of bone and flesh wrought back together in a foul and undead craft. With the assistance of Silas' teachings, Raphael's mount who'd perished under the blow of Kraujas Ntima had been brought back from the crypt's fall, and once again fought for its King, now, in death. It was voracious, skinny and starved of life itself, and swiftly coming to thin the hordes.
Much further behind, something aggressive churned through the crimson clouds, something with as much hatred for life beyond its own it was near untamable to even Slade, himself. Even now as he rode Wrath to where the Blood Dragon moved, the deadly dark copper screamed her murderous intent at anything that moved. Mercy's mount, once a brilliant golden bronze now tarnished black through the fire and brimstone she had risen from, flew behind the sterling, her passion to rip life from even the undead so fierce in her violently glowing eyes. Slade had to continue issuing corrections to the death-dragon to prevent her temper from killing them all. Thus rode the coven to the call of the dragon of venom, of poison, of pestilence. Eventually they would arrive to the Harbinger, and Slade would ensure his few had their purpose filled, today.

Once all had been securely boarded, he climbed aboard his own Infiltrator, the sleek matte black and ebony gloss trim swift to disappear among the stars and remain in close enough rotation to the Harbinger that immediate action would not fail once he was directed. Slade knew what the objective was, as it should be in every case Tormentous sent his own forth into something as grand as this. To rectify the wrongs of everyone, everything, every misled soul that did not owe their lives to the Red Cauldron. Everything belonged to the Sith - and anything that was not, would be taken mercilessly.

[Kressara Thryn]

"What a dreadful blight on existence." Kressara muttered to herself, standing safe from the rain beneath the wing of her own personal ship. That toxic beast was an ugly thing, as were the myriad of hellish creatures to follow at the command of the one who looked like her master. Her eyebrows furrowed as the foul creatures were loaded into the belly of the Harbinger and a nasty thought plagued her conscience. Were her rocling old enough and if anyone but her remained who knew, she might have been forced to bring the great bird into the fray. Thankfully enough, she'd ordered it to be released on the planet of its origin before she fled Sojourn with...well, before she fled Sojourn. Gratitude for her decision back then served to comfort her now.

Her gaze travelled upwards to take in the entirety of the massive black blot in the sky, looking even more disgusted.

"And such a ghastly looking behemoth...why must the sith always be so grim? Just once I'd like to see our people act with some sense. Blood shed. War. Murder. It's all done with such a show." Kressara grimaced to think of the destruction this plot would bring about. Many would die, though she didn't intend to be one of them. Her plans for the world had only just begun. One day, one far away day, perhaps those who survive this brutal show of sith power would come to adore her for the paradise she would raise out of their losses and trauma. Wouldn't that be a sight? All of this trouble, and a sith lord would rise some many years later just to create utopia? Wishful thinking, maybe.

"Miss Thryn! Lorcan Alascer reporting, ma'am!" A thick, Eufornis city dwellers accent reverberated from the hull of the Skipray and out sauntered a young man who certainly didn't match the scenery around them. Blue eyes peered out at the monstrosity and the man's lean body shivered head to toe. He met Kressara beneath the wing and shouted over the rain and the sound of the Harbinger's enormous mechanisms. "With all due respect, miss...I'd like to leave as quickly as possible. Just to double clarify here, I'm to stay well behind the hoard as a backup get away vehicle, right? You'll ping me your coordinates and all that when you have need to leave?" The frown on her face melted, replaced with an endearing smile. Lorcan was such a loyal associate. Really one to keep an eye on. He was nothing more than a tweaked out spice addict when Kressara got her hands on him back in Eufornis Major's inner city. He had been her first recruit and now? Lorcan was practically her right hand man in such a short time.

The sith apprentice answered him with a reassuring pat on the back. "That's right, Alascer. Stay well out of range. If you receive a set of coordinates from me, then you must come right away. I will only call you if the need is dire, my friend."

Kressara would rather leave them all to die than lose her chance at avenging her own loss. A backup plan was crucial and this was the best she could manage.

"Go now, Lorcan. I'll be in touch. Remember! Stay low."

The two associates parted ways, Lorcan into the cockpit of her Skipray and Kressara down the winding knoll on which it perched. Rain beat down against her and thunder rolled overhead. This battle would be a gargantuan mess, the stuff of nightmares. She reached into a weatherproof pouch on her belt and plucked out a small green pill before tossing back her head to catch rainwater in her open mouth. Never could swallow a pill dry. Down the hatch and out of mind, Kressara's regular dosage of a powerful blood cleansing agent would help prevent her from any negative side effects due to her habits. Last thing she needed now was a strong headache and a loss of cognitive ability. She joined the last of a battalion on their shuttle ride into the Harbinger and wandered the ship's interior in search of a quiet place to stow away.

[Kita_Ikari]

Silvanius was already aboard the Harbinger carrying out orders for her Master Lord Tormentous. As usual she was giving the Wing commanders the information of her masters desired location, information and gave out their orders. It was something she was still getting use too. But no doubt got easier everyday as she went on with her training.

"Lord Tormentous demands you all fly ahead of the Armada and drop beacons along the way for the rest to follow. We need to make sure to stay hidden, so as always avoid the GA patrols. Otherwise my master won't take kindly to your failure and pay with your own lives in turn for such a grave mistake." She said seriously. "There are no second chances."

With that, the Sith apprentice turned away and left the briefing room to prepare herself for oncoming battle. Entering one of the private quarters she secured for herself earlier, she took out a modified set of Bone armor from under her bed. After her last battle with the Jedi Padawan, Silvanius had unfortunately learned the hard way to start wearing armor when on missions of any kind unless she was going undercover or in her masters citadel.

But the armor was to heavy for her battle style. So she had to alter it. Keeping her vital areas covered, she wore Silver plated bone armor over her chest and backside. The rest of her body was covered with a body glove armor weaved mesh underneath. With a pair of black boots and long silver cloth covering the front and back to keep her usual style in tact, she grabbed a vibrolance as a backup weapon along with a simple pistol and slid it into her holster on her silver belt. Of course she wasn't positive she would be using these weapons, but it was still worth having them.

Looking down at the right side of her belt, she smiled as she stared at her new saber hanging from her side. There was excitement silently building in Silvanius as she got the urge to start using her saber on this mission as soon as possible. Training wasn't enough anymore. She desired to try her weapon in the midst of battle.

With a small smile on her face, she left the room to await her masters arrival.

[Jacobi Wylcott]

#2

---INFILTRATOR WING

Sith Warriors looked upon the Chosen of the Dark Lord and a few of them may have even contemplated striking the Apprentice down and taking her place. Whatever stayed their hands from doing just that would likely never be known - but they bowed to her word which in turn was the word of Darth Tormentous himself. She left them and the six Warriors departed to their respective Infiltrator ships and before the hour was over they had launched from the Harbinger while so many more vessels were heading in - and they broke atmosphere moving at their top speeds to cruise into the vacuum of space where at six different locations surrounding high orbit of Moraband orbited seventy-two Sith Infiltrators.

These squadrons were the vanguard of the Sith strike force that would seek the way and illuminate that which was left in darkness. Separating into their flight groups, this Wing of eighteen flight groups logged separate coordinates and once each of these flight groups made progress to the outer gravity well of the world they jumped into hyperspace and they were heading straight into the fringes of Alliance Territory along the Prelemian Trade Route.

---MORABAND ORBIT

Stowing the arms, armor, manpower and various Sithspawn was a monumental task - but the Dark Lord had demanded it be done and so it was done with something well beyond a military efficiency of what the Alliance Navy or the Imperial Navy would have displayed. It was borne of a true fanatical following. Diligence provided by the absolute need to please their Lord and Master.

By the time the Dark Lord of the Sith had arrived onboard the Harbinger the entire vessel was prepared for his appearance. When his Infiltrator set down the hangar in which he arrived was lined with the soldiery of the Sith Army. A thousand men with rifles and shining armor saluted and stood in stock still attention while their platoon leaders fell to one knee and bowing their heads is supplication. The Fleet Master was there to receive the Dark One personally - Lord High Admiral Lidmor - veteran naval commander of the Sith Armada. Falling to a knee the Admiral paid homage to his liege. Tormentous bade him rise and together they departed to the bridge.

With the expanse of the Destroyer being such the trip from hangar to bridge, even through the swift tram and turbolift, took the better length of fifteen minutes to accomplish and once they had arrived to the bridge they were exposed to an explosion of activity at the crew of the bridge was in coordination with every aspect of this grand operation.

Lidmor was granted permission to execute and Tormentous stormed his way to the main vieport of the bridge where he stood silently observing the ongoing scene. Lidmor verbally lashed the bridge crew into shape and in moments he declared it was time.

The Harbinger began to rise from the upper atmosphere of Moraband and into the cold embrace of the stars beyond. It would be some time before the warship was prepared to make the jump to hyperspace and until that time the last portions of ships yet to board would have their chance to do so - they would have to chase down the Harbinger to do so but this was quite standard procedure for the Sith - hasty boarding operations.

[Professor Mors]

All Sa’ato wanted was to read in peace. Balled up in his pilot’s chair with obvious discontent, it quickly became clear he would achieve anything but. The fanatics had begun their war chant: the thick, alien tones of their sacred language echoed eerily off the interior panels of the Mudhorn with a sickly timbre. From the cockpit, the Neti was half-convinced he could feel the vibrations of their myriad voices under his feet. Even given his revelation of the Force and its basis in willpower, the professor was still no advocate for religion.

Still, if the Dark Lord had whole ships of attuned acolytes with a fraction of his power, it was a small wonder galaxy hadn’t already been cleaved in two. To follow a man such as Sa’ato newest mentor was one thing- to worship him like a god was an entirely different matter. The academic found his new loyalties to be a logical conclusion on his quest for knowledge. But in the furthest recesses of his mind, he could not help but question the power that could move so many to such primal devotion. Certainly, it would require time, and further study. For his sake, the professor hoped that such research could be accomplished for a distance: a very pronounced distance...

[Slade Xandir]

Among the stars, silence caressed the void named Infiltrator. Slade had kept renaming the ship using a random generator, and ecch time he ported, a new tag was swapped in his registration, should it ever be scanned. He was unmarked, and ensured his ship remained spotless, both inside and out. Nothing more than a default ship, a passing omen among any who caught a glimpse of the hidden shuttle before it blended back against the fold. However now, it stayed affront the Harbinger, engines powered lowly and even the flames burned a special fuel that case only bare traces of residue in the cosmos field. He allowed Valkyr to guide the ship, his ex-exotics trading contact turned into nothing but a near bare organic Warbot. He had killed her, and reprogrammed her lethal instinct into a bionic body, cyborging her into an awful and sleek murderess who had no control over her own function. She served him, as his programming instructed her to, and slick clawed digits held the guiding controls firm and digital scanners paired with the AI sensors of the ship to keep their field of view almost omniscient.

The Hunter instead took his time utilizing the chance he had, allowing the inorganics to work together, and he meditated. He began to work on his capabilities in sensing things outside of himself, besides just the common Force Users he knew. He needed new scents to hunt, and he would be eagerly searching for anything before it hit the Harbinger's field.

[Silas Karn]

Awaiting the Sovereign at the foot of his keep was a matte black K-Wing. Though it lacked the hyperdrive capabilities of his former Defender the ship was hand selected by the priest as it had perhaps the greatest specs of any fighter currently minted in the whole of the galaxy. As the cockpit raised a familiar metallic voice met his hears. “Was it truly necessary to have the fastest ship? The infiltrator has far greater utility.” A slight grin coursed the countenance of the Sovereign as he climbed into his new vessel. “Odd concern for a tin can to have really. In any case it is in dire need of being properly tested. Regardless, we are running behind. It would not do for the High Priest to cause delay for a mission he himself outlined!” With some static feedback seemingly as a subtle mock the droid gave controls over to Silas allowing the priest to take flight with his latest indulgence. A fitting hyperdrive docking ring had already been stowed aboard the Harbinger should the need for such capabilities arise.

The swift vessel all but erupted from the base of the tower as Nil was tasked with coordinating their arrival with the docking bay chief. In mere moments the pair had closed the distance to the dreadnaught within the upper limits of Moraband’s atmosphere. Indeed, the vast capital ship was now in lower orbit above the crimson globe. Engulfed by the massive ship the K-Wing settled down cleanly within the primary docking bay. As the cockpit raised once more Silas motioned for Nil to attend to the staff for the minor details needed for clearance within the Sith flagship.

The Sovereign departed immediately for the nearest turbolift as his presence was surely demanded in the briefest of timetables. The nearly twenty minute venture to the bridge passed in utter silence, only the chanting of the crew across the priest’s com-link interrupting. Finally, the Sovereign crossed the threshold of the bridge and presented his self to the Dark Lord. “Tell me this is more than simply my tertiary goal of the third map. I earnestly hope it’s time to extract the thorn.” Silas spoke after granting a formal bow before Tormentous.