Recent content by Desmundor Alcademon

His will clad in determination. His being stretching in the Force, contesting Hazdrabal's own defiance of the Temple's binding spells. As the Sith blade shined from his grip, he tilted his head up, as the Jenberniuk flew in a deadly spin, naming sacrifices to the Black Lord with each of her...

Go ahead... Do it... Coward Slaves... Come taste Death... Whispers sung across the narrow confrontation. The very minds aligned, each of the curses spoken and the promises addressed, a wave against the Sith's willpower. Desmundor could sense that. He felt the besieging might descending upon...

The Red Harvest unfolded in a labyrinth of obsession and debauchery. Bodies blended in an amalgam of depravity and blasphemous rites of the Dark Gods, under the guise of shadows of Death, never allowed passage to the hollows of the Netherworld, for spells conjured by the Eyerhea were far too...

Triumph. Glory. Legacy. His Triumph came upon the capturing of Darth Fauste. Battles fought across the stars, farther still than any other Athysian ever ventured before him. Glory followed, with the conquest of Omwat, and the fall of the last remaining Republic stronghold in the Sector, now...

The void over Omwat burst alight, as the first beams of plasma blazed between the Athysian vanguard and the Republic fleet. Republic Liberator Starfighters took off from the Valor Cruisers, while the Thranta corvettes pushed forth, in an attempt to focus fire towards the leading enemy warship...

We are taking heavy fire! They are coming around! Hold G7! What the- AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH The void caught fire. The blazing of the thrusters pushed the crimson hulls of the Athysian Raider Fleet onwards, as the mighty host emerged from the defiled clutches of the Netherworld, an...

Desmundor halted his pace as soon as the bald woman appeared on his way. So long after the battle, the aura of Darkness had almost completely faded from the man, leaving an aftermath of hollow being. The farther time moved from the battle itself, the more the dark Nexus around Omwat lessened...

The man shook his head to her words. "Good, then." he intoned, as if repulsed by the state he found her in. It was not the physical exhaustion, or the fatigue that he saw. It was giving up. Speaking words, in his eyes, conraddictory yet lined well enough to provide a reasonable ending to...

The man's head tilted sideways once again. He lowered the blade, and as he did, the black crystal was deprived of the energy that initially empowered it. He looked down at her, as if trying to understand the retroactiveness of the scene that presented itself before him. "Who invites Death...

I will break Omwat The black crystalic blade quivered by the sheer force of impact. A droplet of blood slid down, reaching all the way to the very edge of the curved sword. His breathing was stable. His mind fixated on the task. This was his moment. His mission. His Glory. Red laser bolts flew...

Desmundor grasped his hand by the wrist, grinning his teeth in response to the piercing pain coming from beneath the skin, as deep as the marrow of his bones. His skin had already grew blistering, black ooze leaking from the septic cysts as if his very existence in the cave was an anomaly to...

I am sorry Desmundor could recognize the regreat, pain and despair, all amalgamated in those three words spoken the last. His eyes widened. His heart stopped, as he himself was consumed in a flash of sudden chaos. A cackling cacophony of blasphemous words buried in curses and binding that...

Each step, a mark carved with fire. Each moment, a phylactery guarded by memories. Each soul lost, another sacrifice to a war made unholy by blasphemous idols and thirsting prayers of doom. The cage of ice and stone was bled open by the boiling fumes of blood spilled unjustly. Vain, like the war...

Blood by the Bailey The Marskhan axe descended. Brute strength and wrath of eons hammered down upon the false foe. In a single moment, as the axe buried into the stone in flame and shrapnel, the red blade hissed. Blood, black as pitch and thick as oil vomited from its torn chest. Bones revealed...

Silence. Desmundor knelt, his witch-blade brought aloft. His eyes narrowed, possessed by feral rage contained in an urn of torment and Defiance. A single purpose the seal for the tomb never to open. His black hair yet to settle by the aftermath of the shockwave produced by Darth Fauste, barely...