Silent Night (Prazutis)

[Jacobi Wylcott]

Delivering hammer blows to vital areas - Tormentous had killed men with less - he was sure that an undefended strike of just his opening salvo alone would be enough to check his opponent. Though as sure as he had crushed the eye cavity of the helmet and gave view to the abomination within, he decided that perhaps he had once again underestimated his foe. His reaction then was not one of fear nor despair - it was one of great intrigue. For all the secrets he himself had been made known to this was not one of them and he instantly knew that he needed to know more about this creature.

For Tormentous knew Neive Undant well. He had once been a student of Tormentous even and he had shown much promise before vanishing during a mission. His absence had simply been decided that the Acolyte had been unworthy and deserved his fate.

Prazutis though was largely an unknown to the Lord of Torment. They had only met truly in passing and Tibrin could not honestly be considered a proper encounter for how brief it had been and in that Jacobi Wylcott was in control rather than Tormentous. The two shared a body but they were vastly different and while they also shared experiences the memories from one to the other became a haze as if in a dream. Therefore Tormentous knew precious little of this foe and it was a point of great annoyance for him.

It had then been established - Tormentous would devote resources into discovering exactly who and what this Prazutis was and how he was capable of the trickery that he presented. In the meantime it was of great import that he resume the battle and stray from these distractions. No - there was something else that he could do here.

Tapping into the unbound energies of the Force, the Dark One enhanced his speed via the way and all about him the world slowed to a crawl as his perceptions sharpened. Prazutis was extending a gauntlet to seize Tormentous. Yes - this contact was necessary. Not that he had likely been able to counter anyways. His devastating melee that had worked over Prazutis had left him open - in his defense such blows should have done more damage though they obviously did not. Tormentous focused and the Dark Side of the Force obeyed his command. Pain rippled through the Dark One as each and every use of the Force pained him greatly. It fueled him and amplified his intent.

Prazutis’ gauntlet fixated to the collar of the Sith’s armor and in reflex the Sith in turn grabbed the Imperial’s wrist with both hands. It was likely that this motion could have been mistaken for panic but this was ever so calculated. Tormentous needed knowledge and he would have it. With the Force surrounding him he pried his way in (Drain Knowledge). Prazutis had not erected his own mental barriers at the outset of this fight - a mistake Tormentous had noticed early on and one he was about to capitalize off of. A spear of Dark Side energy shot from the wrist, up the arm and across the shoulder, banking at the nape of the neck and finally unto the core of Prazutis. A spear of willpower that surged in upon Prazutis. Regardless of his physical form. Prazutis was a being of the Force and so his memories, experiences, time abroad, actions, concerns - all of it - was interred upon his aura through the Force and of the mind.

Tormentous pulled on the threads within. Entering Prazutis’ energy field like a thief and groping inwardly at everything he could find. Locations, time lines, everything. So much information in the breadth of a few seconds was impossible to see in full. But should the connection succeed then at a later time Tormentous would be able to meditate on these thoughts and memories and delve the truth at the flashing imagery that was now stealing away from Prazutis. He made little to no sense of it all for this moment. But eventually Tormentous would have Prazutis. Eventually a reckoning would come to pass.

Then came the truth of the moment. Prazutis shot out with impact on the chest plate and thunder sounded as a fist primed with charged energy railed home. Tormentous had not prepared for this strike as he had been fully focused on alternate objectives. Perhaps he would come to regret the decision entirely. But for now he was busy. Armor, hardened and highly rated, cracked. The Lord of the Sith fell backwards a full five meters hitting his backside and rolling over to his back, up on his shoulders and finally a full rotation onto his front. A dust cloud wrapped around him. Armor integrity glyphs lit up on his now damaged collar. Pulsing red things that told him what he already knew. He’d been hit by a speeder so it felt.

Beneath the armor he could already feel the bruising, the damage beneath he could not tell but his face mask detected fluid. Blood. Such a piercing pain. It was sharp and hostile. Where some would see a fright in the wake of the immediate events, Tormentous instead chided himself for allowing an undeterred strike to land. His hubris would one day get himself killed.

But not today.

Slowly the Dark One climbed to his feet, left hand clasped to his chest. He gripped the collar and hit the release stud. With a hiss the front and back plate disconnected from his body glove and clattered to the ground. He could breathe again. He hadn’t realized the strike not only cracked open the plate but had compressed it inward so that it was putting pressure on his lungs. Keeping his shoulder and arm guards intact, he wore nothing over his body now save for the black body glove.

In a rare moment - Tormentous nodded to his foe. Respect. But no words would come. Anger and seething rage built within him. His mind, through the Dark Side of the Force, connected to the Jidai Maras. The Sword of Korribani Steel, from its place far cast aside, began to glow in response.

Play time was over.

[Neive Undant]

-Inside the memories drained from Prazutis-

Tormentous saw a flash of white flood over his vision as he latched onto Prazutis. As he grasped for information, the spirit within his armor flooded information into Tormentous, nearly overloading his mind.

The white faded, and Tormentous felt himself kneeling. The room around him was covered with raised windows, and he knelt before a pedestal.

On top of the pedestal was a Sith Holocron, opened and projecting an image of a Sith long dead. The Sith spoke in his own language, translated by a protocol droid that stood to the side.

“[You have completed your metamorphosis. The energy you can now hold is… astronomical. You do not yet feel the hunger that I once did..]”

Tormentous could see the image of Darth Nihilus, brooding over his holocron as he spoke.

However, he could hear another voice, not with his ears, but a voice within his head.

“You can’t do this. It’s too much power. You lost an arm already, now you cast aside the rest of my body… it’s an abomination.”

Nothing replied to the voice.

A flash of white flooded over Tormentous’ eyes again, and another strange vision flooded into Tormentous’ senses.

He was still kneeling, though this time not in front of any Sith.

Instead, he knelt before Ben Kenobi.

“I still feel it, master. The dark side… it’s not just tempting me. It feels like it’s trying to drag me away,” Tormentous felt his lips saying, though the words were not his own. The voice sounded like-

Neive Undant’s.

“You are pathetic. Leaving the Sith to beg for forgiveness at the feet of the Jedi. What must I do to remind you of what you are?”

Prazutis’ voice. It was distinct, different than Neive’s. It was darker, more raspy.

Another white flash.

Tormentous stood, holding the hilt of a lightsaber. A woman, a Galactic Alliance agent, stood in front of him. She was pleading with him, with a look on her face that showed sorrow. Did Neive know this woman? Did he know the three other Alliance agents behind her?

“Neive, come on! The Empire won’t know you’re missing until we’ve escaped, this is our chance!” The woman said in a desperate voice.

“No, stop! Don’t you dare… Don’t you dare!” Neive’s voice screamed in his mind.

“Neive… what are you doing?” The woman asked.

“No… not Aaida! Don’t do this!” Neive continued crying out, but Tormentous felt the hilt of his lightsaber in his hand.

“Making up my mind,” Prazutis’ voice replied to the woman, Aaida, before igniting his blade and letting it shoot out through the woman’s torso.

Rather than screaming out or yelling, Neive’s voice went silent. Tormentous could feel a stabbing pain within himself at the same time as he killed the woman, though it wasn’t physical. It was the pain of losing a lover, seeing them die and being able to do nothing to stop it.

And despite his tries to resist, Tormentous could feel a tear slide down his face.

Another flash of white, and Tormentous was bombarded with images. Stabbing a Jedi in the back on Hapes, killing another Jedi on the same ship as Aaida’s death, fighting a beeping Jedi on Cato Neimoida, then fighting both the Verpine and Ben Kenobi himself on Jedha. Throughout the visions, Neive was silent, no longer pleading for Prazutis to stop. It was like he had faded away, into the background of the mind.

One image lingered for a moment, as Tormentous saw Silvanius in a bar. She thrusted a lightsaber into his chest, then look up at him with horror as she realized he didn’t die from the blow.

Finally, Prazutis’ punch landed, and the visions disappeared as Tormentous was thrown backwards. They were all burned into his mind, some with more detail than others.

Prazutis stared at Tormentous, the churning void within his helmet still peering at him with an eyeless vision.

“That… was a mistake.”

Prazutis stepped forward to fight again, but froze in place. His helmet turned down a bit, almost as if in realization.

“What did you do?” Prazutis asked, putting a gauntlet up to his helmet.

Something was pulling Tormentous back in. Force energy pulled at his mind, pulling his mind towards Prazutis. It didn’t seem like it was the Imperial doing so on purpose, as the creature had pushed him away a moment before.

“No… no! Not now!” Prazutis yelled, and around the both of them, a (dreamscape) began to materialize. It wasn’t made from Prazutis, clearly. But rather…

Neive Undant was creating it.

—

Prazutis disappeared inside the dreamscape. His presence was all around Tormentous, but he was not here to be seen.

Tormentous was within a ship. It was some sort of small cruiser, perhaps a YT of some design, and had no bearings of faction. There were crates all around the cargo hold, and there were windows lining the outside walls. Tormentous could see the stars outside the windows, and near the back of the ship, he could see a planet nearby.

Dathomir. And the third Death Star turning to aim its planet-destroying super weapon directly at Neive’s home world.

In the middle of the room, a single light shone down on two figures standing in the light.

One was Neive Undant. In his old GA agent outfit, the same as Tormentous had seen on him on Dromund Kaas.

And across from him, in the same Mandalorian armor as Prazutis saw him in on Tibrin,

Was Jacobi Wylcott.

[Jacobi Wylcott]

He looked down at his hands. They were not born in the studded armor of the Sith Eradicator but more dignified, controlled. In his hands - curiously - was not the weight of his Sith Sword but the streamlined quality of his A280k Blaster Rifle. He could even smell the lubricants of the well maintained weapon. Then his HUD popped online and readings of the area began cycling into view although location, temperature and other natural readings were coming in as N/A. Even the compass was fouled. Then realization hit him that he was wearing not just a helmet but his helmet.

Seeing in front of him a figure, the HUD pinged the being, isolated uniform insignia and targeted species. Vulnerable vital areas illuminated red in places including the zabrak dual hearts and reinforced ribcages. But - he knew this man. Hadn’t he just been on Thassa - Thasssss - what? Where? He tried to shake off the fog in his mind. What in all the hels was going on?

Wait - was Neive squaring off against him?

Instinct took over. Jacobi Wylcott snapped into action with a firing stance on training and adrenaline alone that was now being pumped into his system via armor modules. His A280k raised into the high-ready and captured a profile of Neive Undant - perfect center mass. Without even thinking about it his thumb snapped the selector lever over from safe to fire and his trigger finger was resting on the edge of the trigger well. Indication that he would not yet fire though was a millisecond from doing just that and putting Undant down. And one could very much trust that Jacobi Wylcott would not hesitate.

“Neive?”

Darth Tormentous eyed Jacobi Wylcott for the first time as a separate being. Oh how the hatred for that Manadlorian writhed within him like an inferno. His hand shot up and he willed lightning to go forth and cook his erstwhile nemesis - but none came and the distant picture of Jacobi and Neive faded in and out of focus. It was as if they weren’t really there - but there also. They were ghosts. Trapped - or was he trapped? Was he the ghost? It infuriated him and he wanted to rage out and exhume his anger on something - but there was just nothing there. For now.

Jacobi never took his eyes off Neive. Eyes. He had depth perception. He blinked. Both eyes. So strange. Something was wrong. So very wrong. No. This couldn’t be real. Could it? What had Neive done? What was he doing!? Choler spiked in his heart and he narrowed his eyes at his target. Finger moving over the trigger now. The corner of his eye captured movement. A bright orb of colored red. It was a world and it was beautiful! Finger off the trigger, the barrel lowered slightly. Something was terribly wrong. That was Dathomir! And the frakking Death Star!? Rifle lowered more.

This was Dathomir’s last moments. Jacobi hadn’t been here for that. He had been a slave in the jungles of Dxun at that time. Before he even took the Mandalorian’s Oath. Sense fought instinct. Neive Undant was not a mortal enemy. His rifle raised again. But the feelings he had never seen yet knew. Neive was Prazutis. Prazutis was Neive. Wasn’t he?

He hadn’t seen it. But he knew it. How? Jacobi was no Force user. He couldn’t even feel the Force. How could he be so sure then? But he’d seen the holocron. He’d seen the ghostly images. He’d seen Prazutis kill Aaida. Who was Aaida? Wait, how did he know the name of a woman he’d never met? Or heard of!?

Kenobi? A Verpine? He never saw these things! But they were flashing images branded on his mind as memories. He’d been there. No he hadn’t. No - he most definitely had been there. As sure as he was standing here in this place though - he knew everything.

So Neive Undant was a threat after all.

If Neive was still capable of talking by the time Jacobi got done then maybe he could get some answers. If not - then it’d be a threat neutralized.

Recapturing his sight picture in the flicker of a heartbeat, he pulled the trigger.

[Neive Undant]

Neive stayed silent as Jacobi got a feeling for his surroundings. He stood with his hands clasped before him, watching Wylcott with deep blue eyes. He let the man take in the surroundings, even the planet facing its imminent demise behind him. He didn't react to the Mandalorian's hostility, keeping still even as the rifle was aimed at him.

"It's good to-"

A blaster bolt fired from the weapon. Neive's arms moved in a blur, suddenly in front of him, a lightsaber hilt in his hands, and a blue blade ignited from them, deflecting the bolt away.

"Wylcott! Peace, I brought you here to talk."

Neive watched for more blaster fire as he held his blade in a defensive position. Tormentous, and Jacobi, for that matter, had never seen Neive with anything but the crimson lightsaber he had created on Ilum all those years ago. Seeing him with a blade the color of the Jedi's ranks was... unnatural.

"I believe we're both in the same situation here. Just listen for a moment."

Neive hoped that the Mandalorian wasn't too provoked by Neive's defense. Warily, Neive deactivated his saber, clipping it back to his belt and hoping that Jacobi would do the same.

"It's... it's nice to get to meet you this way, finally, without either of our darker halves."

[Jacobi Wylcott]

Right on target. The bolt seared the non-air between them and hit home with such precision it could have made him proud had the regal blue sapphire not stolen his attention - swatting the red bolt down as if it was nothing more than a nuisance. Reflex had Jacobi sidestep twice, reconfigure his shot and fire again. But Neive snapped at him - a plea of peace? Finger relaxed from the trigger for the second shot - of which Jacobi never fired. Though he refused to yield his aim at this time.

There was so much happening all at once but Jacobi needed answers. Initially he had resolved to force them but as things would have it the unfolding events were about to provide them willingly. Unused to this sort of thing he simply nodded at first without verbal response. He paused - eyeing the - Jedi - more carefully. Neive added that they were basically in the same boat and still he provided not hint at retaliation.

Jacobi slowly began to believe that Undant would not actually be the exact threat that Prazutis had been. One that was a foe was not a friend so easily. Wasn’t that true? Yet Neive offered nothing of violence here and even it gave Jacobi the sense of compassion in his words.

A lightsaber was reset back to the belt. A weapon set away. A non-combatant. To secure weapons was the next logical action. Neive had taken the first step. Now it was Jacobi’s turn. Not yet flipping the selector from fire to safe, he lifted his finger from the trigger well and rested it. A simple movement but one that should have been viewed as a massive concession should one know Wylcott at all. More words came from the Jedi, a greeting. He began to breath easy as he fought the adrenaline in his system. Ease now, the threat was over.

Lowering the barrel first to the high-ready and finally the low-ready position he relaxed and nodded. “What is this?” Jacobi asked genuinely. For so long he had fought Tormentous in this mental battle for the soul and he had been losing on all fronts. There had been no reprieve. No quiet. Constant ruthless and unending nightmares surrounded him at all times. This had been the first moment in so long that he wasn’t on guard.

Knowing that he alone was the only thing preventing the full takeover of Tormentous from his consciousness and body was the only thing keeping Jacobi here, otherwise he would have denied everything.

But now was a moment to just stop. And Wylcott couldn’t have appreciated it more. He nodded again, acceptance and thanks to Neive. His left hand lifting in apologetic fashion. If they’d ever meet again he’d properly ask forgiveness for the imprompted shot. But for now this would have to do.

His thumb snaked up and flicked his selector over to safe. “How much time do I have?” It was a packed question.

Not only was it concerning this moment of freedom but also the concern of how much time did he have before Tormentous found a way to overcome him and destroy Jacobi completely. He dreaded the day that his fight was finally over. But knew it was coming all the same.

Even now he could feel something inside of him fading away.

Finally at a certain level of ease, he was ready to listen to whatever Neive Undant wanted to tell him. And there was so much to unpack here.

[Neive Undant]

Neive took a moment to look out the window towards Dathomir, towards the Death Star, still turning to face the planet.

“The way this place is constructed, I’m fairly sure when Dathomir dies, it will fall apart. We’ll both go back where we came from,” Neive said, clasping his arms behind him, where Wylcott could see them, before turning back to face him again.

“I didn’t realize it until I pulled Tormentous into this place, but you and him are so similar to Prazutis and myself. The battle for control, the roots in the dark side, I’m surprised neither me nor Prazutis realized it before. You’re just as much Tormentous’ enemy as I’m Prazutis’ enemy, aren’t you?” Neive asked. It felt good to finally speak with someone else, especially someone who understood, at least to some extent, what was happening in his mind.

“Prazutis is lost in this place somewhere, we have some time. Thanks to Tormentous, I was able to bind his mind to mine with the force and bring us all here,” Neive added, hoping to clear some things up for Jacobi so he and Neive could get to other topics.

[Jacobi Wylcott]

Disappointment flared. He looked around now, taking in the surroundings. “So this isn’t real. I’m not free of him.” He already knew the answer even before Neive had said anything but the realism of the words coming from Jacobi’s mouth brought confirmation as well as clarity. It was primarily deflating. A fight that had spanned so long and here was a little hope - only to be dashed aside.

He only nodded then when Neive sentenced Dathomir as to their time limit here in this place. Part of him wanted to will the Death Star to stop its rotation towards that red orb. Part of him wanted to go and physically stop it. Part of him did not care anymore.

Looking back to Neive he listened well, finally lowering his rifle completely to hold it - relaxed. His silver beskar’gam shone in this pale light and he cursed it all for it was not really real. He glorified his armor and his gear. Knowing this was not real he wanted to rip it off and destroy it for the faux lie it was. Staying his hand - he would play this game to its conclusion and from there he would find Tormentous - and keep that tyrant in check once more. Or do his damnedest.

Finally Tormentous confirmed - no - he shook his head clear. Jacobi! Jacobi confirmed - “Whatever sorcery Karn used on me.” He spoke with mixed emotion. He should have died that day on Belsavis. No, he had died. Saving her. But now Tormentous was part of him. No again. He was part of Tormentous. It was so confusing and moreso frustrating. To defeat Tormentous - Jacobi had to allow Tormentous’ existence if only to discover the key to the Dark Lord’s weakness and finally extinguish him. He did not know yet if he was that weakness or if some form of sorcery was or another alternative. If he was the key - he would not hesitate to destroy himself if it meant Tormentous’ demise. But he couldn’t just take that leap without knowing. If Jacobi himself died without actually being the solution then Tormentous would be without anything at all to hold him back. It was a circle of torment that Jacobi had to endure.

“What do you need of me?” Jacobi declared, not wanting to brush off the true explanation but to hurry since their time was literally measures in minutes according to Neive’s assessment. “If I can do anything to kill either one of these bastards, I’ll do it. Or even cause some damage. They’ve gotten away with too much for too long.”

Truthfully he didn’t even know if Neive had brought him here for that or if only to confirm that there was something more to Tormentous. Maybe nothing could be done right now. Maybe nothing at all.

[Neive Undant]

Neive let Jacobi think over their situation for a moment. He knew that it would take him a moment to clear his mind if he was in a construct of someone else’s making as well. But, as Wylcott seemed to want to hurry things along as well, Neive nodded.

“You caught on quick. I know how long you’ve been struggling with Tormentous, and I think I have a plan.”

Neive folded his arms. He thought over the current possibilities, flushing out the details of his plan.

“Originally, I was hoping the two of us could divide and conquer. Both of us taking on Tormentous, then Prazutis, would no doubt bring an end to both of them. Unfortuntately, I believe Prazutis-”

A crimson lightsaber blade ignited from the men’s side, illuminating an armored figure, clad in black mandalorian armor and a spiked helmet.

“How many times must I defeat you before you finally die?” Prazutis asked.

Immediately, Neive turned to him and ignited his blade in a defensive stance, instinctively stepping between Prazutis and Jacobi.

“Can you still use drain knowledge in this form? I know me and Prazutis can still use the force here,” Neive asked, and Prazutis stepped forward, preparing to fight.

[Jacobi Wylcott]

Confidence bloomed. Neive had a plan to defeat both Tormentous and Prazutis. While Jacobi was sceptical he was still willing to roll the dice - his efforts had so far produced little. On outside view may be exactly what was necessary see some ground gained. What did he have to lose?

There was a moment of pause - information on Prazutis that Jacobi assumed would concern the time they had here. His assumption was perhaps right as the crack of a lightsaber being engaged erupted from nearby. Jacobi’s rifle came back up and as Neive positioned between them he was already sidestepping his new found ally and obtaining his sight picture.

Jacobi could read body language and knew intent when he saw it. Prazutis was not here to talk as Neive had been. “No.” He replied. “I have no idea how to use the Force at all. You leave me alone with that hocus pocus garbage!” Knowing his bolts would be ineffective the Mandalorian switched to his 40mm grenade tube on the handrail of his rifle. “Back!” He barked at Neive as he triggered the ordinance. A 40mm fragmentation grenade shot recoilless from the rifle and traveled the distance, aimed just before Prazutis’ feet. If Prazutis did not act fast he would be a pincushion for super heated slag followed by a nasty concussive blast.

But this initiative was not to last long. While Jacobi had just pulled the trigger his rifle was snatched from his hands. It flew across the room and disappeared into the darkness as the ghostform of Tormentous also found his place - likely due to the proximity of Prazutis doing the same.

The dreadlord stormed forward after forcing the Mandalorian to relent in surprise and so he punched the air towards Jacobi and the Mandalorian was blown away by the Force. The surprise attack came so quickly - and now with Neive either shocked by Jacobi’s own attack or evading - he was vulnerable.

Tormentous lashed out with the Sith Sword Jidai Maras. Neive - Jedi. The Sword was honed to seek the Jedi and it was triggered by his very presence. The Dark Side of the Force surged within Tormentous. The Sword hungered for Neive’s blood.

And so did Tormentous.

[Ben Kenobi]

Tormentous VS. Prazutis

Victorious
Tormentous
25 EXP
80,000 cr
Moderate Wounds

Defeated
Prazutis
5 EXP
50,000 cr
Severe Wounds



As per request. Continue Battle in RP to conclusion.