Consolidation Litanies of the Dark Side: Heralds of Ruin

[Dreadheart]

The Republic Navy has engaged the Sith fleet outside Tarraba System. There is no need for panic. Karideph is safe.​

The once carefully calibrated tone of the droid's voice was lost, in the city's announcement speakers. The cacophony of the sirens and the ringing alarms across the skycraping buildings enough to spike the blood pressure of any and all of its inhabitants. Karideph was no stranger to conflict, yet, the presence of the Republic Navy elements had always kept fighting away from the orbit. With the descent of the Sith domains in the region, Karideph returned to its typical rhythm of trade and gambling and all the sort of activities a peaceful world would delve into. But Karideph was no stranger to conflict.... And peace, a dying carrion, bleeding its essence in lesser skirmishes and occasional pirate raids... Until the time came, for it to draw its final Breath....

Minos Sector B̸̩̤̥̟̻͖̦̫͖͍̫̙̃͜ư̶̢̯̥̬̣̦͎͕̩̲̮̇̃̊̊͌͐͛̽̈́͗̉̔̋͘͜͝ŗ̸̧͙̣̣̯̬̠͍̙̫̟̤͍͋̆̓̄́̒̈́͆̆̕͝͠n̴̙͓͙̳̞̏̓̑̈̎͐̚̕s̶̛̲͉̿̿̅̇̓͋̒́̆̓̈́̎̆̌͘͝.​

Black ash and winds of pain was all that remained of the planet's cities. The rays of light from the star that once illuminated the surface to blooming seasons and cast away the winter's cold, as the planetary shifting took place, became ever threatened by the greenish rays of plasma raining down from the heaven's shroud. Black hulls swam above the clouds formed by the burning forests and boiling seas. The sheer scale of destruction caused, on occasion, the very ground to shake in localized quakes, as if the planet itself protested to the coming of the horde.

Communications collapsed within the first days of the attack. With little navy elements to contest the orbit, the Republic navy's command was to flee the system. An order none of the ships followed. Their captains, along with every hand on deck chose instead to stand in a desperate act of defiance, in support of the remaining Republic Army ground forces and the handful of Jedi that braced for the coming of the Sith tide.

We are the defenders of the Republic. We are the sacrifice, for the people to have a chance.

We fight for the Republic. We fight for the Light. We fight. For FREEDOM.​

The last transmissions reverberated like a nerve string refusing to pull from the exposed tissue, reminding the body of its existence in piercing waves of pain to the very touch. The Jedi, battered and weathered through three decades of struggles, sacrifices, pain and exile, had yet to yield to the pressure of the era. If anything, after each martyrdom, the Order emerged revitalized with both determination and purpose.

As the navy battled the Sith armada in lower orbit, any ship that was capable of flight was brought to bare, loaded with refugees, and sent to the orbit through a narrow lane held by the remaining navy ships. Attricious and bloody, the sole hope of the city was evacuation. Debris fell down the atmosphere of lost ships and chunks of hulls torn by plasma and turbolaser artillery, while the orbital defence lazer batteries of the planetside roared ceaselessly, keeping the ever-creeping black hulls of the Sith as far from the beaming blue dome of the ray shield sealing the city from the carnage beyond.

With losses mounting, the enemy ships eventually stopped coming for the city from above. Though the ray shield's generators had turned fiery by the pressure of the continuous bombardment, with many of them melting down, causing power outage across entire sectors of the city, to cause enough pressure on the shields to force them to collapse would be far too time consuming a task, for the enemy. To avoid a stalemate, a horde of cutthroats, Sith and renegade marauders landed in the black wastes. Regardless how effecting ray shielding could be proven when facing bombardments from above, against a land assault, the shields were only holding the enemy from preemptive artillery barrages, of which the horde cared little to indulge.

The brutal directness of the enemy had been forseen, nevertheless. Jedi Master Tarkayr, of the Shuklavir Enclave, appointed commander of the Jedi forces in the city, had instructed for the remaining military and Jedi contingents to dig in and brace for the assault. If they could hold off the inevitable advance of the enemy, the evacuation could proceed. A last-ditch attempt, given there was not enough ships, nor enough time, for all the inhabitants to flee...

It was in moments like this, when the Jedi's purity of purpose and selflesness of character was truly tested... Many among the Jedi whispered the Code who had thusfar been a guide and a way of life, rallying through these words the courage to hold their ground...

There is no passion, there is Peace​

 

[Roshia Chamiane]

Smoke, ash, and debris had blotted out the light of Karideph's star, occasional rains of molten shrapnel, glass, and whatever else rained down from the sky, brought on by ships being shot down within or above the planet's atmosphere. A smog permeated through the ruined city and there was a strong scent of burning, chemicals, and a mild hint of burnt flesh in the air that assaulted one's nostrils if they had been unfortunate enough to have gone down without a breathing mask onto the surface.

A lone figure sprinted through the fallen city, silver-gold lightsaber hilt in hand. Padawan Roshia's robes, disheaveled hair, and exposed skin was darkened by dirt and dust. She had with a larger retinue with her master, pushing through the battlefield, but an ambush and aerial assault had left them split them apart, Roshia had ran without realizing she had furthered herself from the main group and now she was in a frantic search for them. The comlink was dead, she had only the force sense to rely on to try and find them, but that seemed to futile as well. She could not sense them no matter how far out she tried to reach out. There was only one option and that was to return to the Starport, whether they'd be there or not, it was the only escape route off the planet, at the very least a way to establish communications.

And so she continued her tireless sprint, force leaping over any large piles of rubble or crashed ships. She tried her best to block out the fallen bodies of civilians, soldiers, jedi, and sith forces alike littered about. Focus, she had to remain focused on her task.

 

[Hazdrabal the Cannibal]

The forward positions were quickly overran. The vanguard of the Sith tide consisted of battlehardned Marauders and cultists of the Renegade Dark Crusade. Each of them a potent Force User. Each of them armed with both lightsabers and the Dark Side, both of which wielded with ferocity unmatched. There was no ideology behind their craft, nor noble words to masquarade the atrocities commited.

No, the Dark Crusade wreaked carnage for the sole reason its leaders deemed thusly. Unprovoked, they came and uncontested they descent like ravening locust upon the field of crops.

Within minutes, chaos reigned across the city. Flaming speeders crashed against barricades and walls on their riders last ditch attempt to escape. The turbolaser batteries, abandoning the war above turned and aimed against the city districts, hoping to score enough hits on the support beams of the structures to collapse them, blocking the path of the Sith tide while taking dozens of their enthralled warriors in the process.

Over the street, the momentary beam of the turbolaser squealed.

BOOM

Like a whip cracked against soft flesh, the laser pierced the cement plaster of the buildong, casting a rain of debris crashing down under the cloud of dust, while the storey caught flame.

"RETREAT! BACK TO THE STARPORT! BAA-"

The Jedi Knight's voice ceased as his Nautolan head was momentarily blazed by the laserbeam, before blasting into a red mist of tentacles and skull shrapnel.

With each passing moment, the lamentation of the civilians caught in the path of the deranged Sith and their minions, both blood drunk and taken over by the thrill of the ensuing mayhem, became ever more louder.

As the Jedi Padawan ran down the streets, the dark veil in the Force hunted her down like a creeping predator, working its way to the prey. Marauding warriors of the Dark Crusade jumped over broken doors, battered walls and burning structures, almost instinctivelly drawn to the fleeing Padawan, like moths to the flickering light amidst the night's Darkness.

"KILL THE JEDI!"

The cacophony of the marauders made it difficult to differentiate which of them were Sith and which mere enthralled servants of their will. Some could be recognized as ex Imperial Guard troopers, by the patches of Imperial army gear worn incomplete, modified by feathers, bones and foul protruding forms of dark spores, deeply rooted in them.

Hazdrabal stood atop a rooftop. The building had already caught flame by the pillage. Beneath the unstable red plasma of his lightsaber blade, three bodies lied dismembered, their parts scattered across the rooftop, hinting to the battle fought barely moments before.

Even though his breathing had yet to settle from the confrontation, Hazdrabal's cybernetic red eyes had already spotted his next victim... a fleeing Jedi Padawan, running through the city towards the starport...

The Marauder Warlord leaped over the buildings, his buzzing blade by his side, ready to kill. Craving for the coming clash...

"JEDI!!"

The Cannibal's cry echoed amidst the building. A foul voice deriving from septic lungs, disturbed by the artificial vocal chords, cackling in rage to the sight of his arch-enemy.

"JEDI!!"

Hazdrabal leaped over the Jedi Padawan, from one building to the next, until he finally made his move.

He descended upon her in a crashing blow enhanced by the Dark Side, mighty enough to crack the very street in its impact.

 

[SausageDoctor]

Roshia did her best not to allow her gaze to linger on the mangle dead on the ground, to see the frozen expressions of wasted innocent lives nor the mangled, hideous forms of the dark side forces. She kept going, as much as her own legs could carry her, adrenaline coursing through her.

Eventually, amongst the dead, there is the living. She heard it call for her like like snarling wolf in pursuit and sensed the foul aura of the dark side as it leaped closer and closer.

Before she could be crushed under the Cannibal's ruthless attack, Roshia did a quick backflip away to the sides from his supposed landing site. Mid-flip, she extended her hand and forced push against the Cannibal, not nearly enough strength to send him flying off, but its sole purpose was to throw him off his mark, potentially cause him to not immediately land on his own feet or too close to her.

Instead of igniting hee lightsaber to fight. Roshia made a run for it again, force leaping to one shorter buildings.

 

[Hazdrabal the Cannibal]

Like a falling meteor, Hazdrabal crashed against the ground. By the immensity of the Dark Side's invisible fist around the Marauder, the very street asphalt cracked and shattered, as if a shell landed, forming a permanent mark on the ground. Foaming rage boiled beneath his cortosis jaw, further taunted by the Jedi's act of sheer defiance...

His three red cybernetic eyes flickered, as his gaze journeyed over his shoulder to the Jedi behind him, as he gradually lifted himself up from the ground. He had fallen, driven by the Force energy cast from the Jedi, shaking him from the sensation of invincibility and reality-twisting ecstasy of killing. He needed not speak to transmit the wrath now fixated on the running Jedi.

"Jedi scum..."

Growling words bled out of him, as he turned, now more determined than ever before, like a predator finally locking eyes with its prey, differentiating the strong from the weak of the herd. Now stray, the real hunt had begun...

The entire city shook as the shield generators finally gave in to the pressure, causing a settlement-wide blackout as they collapsed in an energy discharge. The battle was finally lost. More and more ravening bands of the Sith tide flooded into the city's streets, one with the pirates, the renegades and the filth that had rallied beneath the Dark Crusade's banners. The streets ran red. The buildings darkened the skies with the black smoke of the roaring flames. A cacophony of screams of horror and war cries rung across the streets.

As Roshia ran towards the starport, as if magnetized by her very appearance, the marauders around her turned in pursuit, like a mob of feral beasts, or a host of horrid memories, chasing the forefront of the mind to haunt the host yet again in an inevitable chase against Madness and Regret, until eventually Darkness breaks in...

"Kill the Jedi!!" warriors roared.

The lifeless body of a civilian flied off the burning building, crashing down the street marked with lightsaber marks. A bleeding Miralian dragged desperately her body away, as if she could ever pull fast enough to distance herself from the foaming techno-barbarian that creeped behind her like a Nexu nearing its dying prey. Her eyes plucked out, her one arm dragged behind her by a single string of remnant tissue the vibrowblade failed to cut clean. Bodies were scattered all across the streets, near the splatters of gore colouring the once vibrant walls of the market district.

The Starport's entrance was wide open. The sandbag barricades and the patched blocks set by the defenders were mawled by blasterfire and yet still stood, the few remaining Republic troopers holding the line, buried in their own casualties. Bloodied, exhausted and hopeless, they stood a last ditch defense to give the refugees these precious few seconds, for the distant possibility they made it out alive...

If only they knew of the great shadow cast over the city being the Dark Crusade's capital ships looming over the city eager to deliver death to those who flew past them...

"Quickly!" the Captain of the Troopers screamed. His helmet, though reinforced, had received a lightsaber hit, causing half of it to crack off, revealing parts of his burned face. He refused to abandon his post. "To the landing bay! We will hold them off!"

Another shuttle took off, lessening the possibility of escape to those yet to step onboard the few remaining shuttles, by one...

And the Sith Tide drew ever closer...

 

[Roshia Chamiane]

There not much time left

Roshia saw the dim glow of the city's shields flicker away into nothing, and the horde of Sith armies poured into the city. She pushed herself to run faster, drown out the suffering of innocents and the savage yowling of the Sith armies. There was no saving them, there was no more time nor was capable of pushing back an entire army on her own, as much as it pained her to abandon so many in need, she had no choice.

Her body pushed itself to the very limits of her physiology and physical capabilities in the mad dash towards Startport, adrenaline allowing her to ignore any potential fatigue that might set in on her body. Slowing down, even slightly, would spell certain doom no doubt, and seeing one transport shuttle take off into the sky only served to push herself even more. The location of her master was no longer something she thought of, all she could think of was to survive and escape.

She unsheathed the silver-gold lightsaber hilt from her belt and ignited it as she ran. It's blue-glow made her stick out even more in the darkened atmosphere of the field, but that hardly mattered to her. Mid-run or mid-leap she defended herself from projectiles or foes throwing themselves or leaping at her. One such creature ahead leapt at her, Roshia pivoted to the and sliced the beast into two with a swing of her lightsaber without stopping in her tracks. On more than a few occasions, she had force pushed them away and, or, leap over them. Whether the Sith from earlier still pursued her or not she did not look back to check, she'd hear it, if it was still in pursuit.

The Starport entrance was coming into her field of view. Only a matter of time before she could reach it. Whether or not being there would ensure her survival remained to be seen.

 

[Eosfor]

Ashes and blood.

The Dark Side's grip in His mind caused every thought but one to blur, whirling back to the very shallows of his psyche. How many times he had inflicted atrocity upon the one blind to his actual purpose, he had lost count long ago, and yet, each time felt ever closer to damnation than the past. The chains clanking upon the heavy alchemised armour beneath, all shadowed by the long cloak marked with the seven-pointed Star he himself had carved upon his once loyal Sith, denouncing the winged Skull of House Kata, what had been his flag for as long as he could recall in this lifetime, now caved in, in favour of the red rise.

Ashes and Blood.

And endless screams of Blind, as they are dragged down the River of the Netherworld...

This was no sacrifice. An unwanted tribute to the one who held his chains... Chains... The very villain the Sith vowed to break free from the last, yet none, to his eyes, had ever truly done so; All swallowed whole by the tempest of chaos, yet to be freed from Her abysal prison, buried deep in a Maw of Darkness.

Chains...

Through Power, My Chains are Broken...

His own never were. Nor would they ever be.

The crimson plasma blazed unstable, sourced by the broken antiquate crystal, perpetually fused with the interior of the spike silver long lightsaberstaff hilt, through aeons of malice and depravity. Perhaps the single, ever-loyal servant and companion the Dark Lord had ever known. The hilt still crackling with lightning, punishing the tightly gripping palm around it for letting go, allowing it to be wielded by the very champion and arch-enemy of his own making, for as little as she had wield it.

Heavy steps carried the Dark Lord onward, towards the Starport; His armour drenched in the bloody remnants of the past victims unlucky enough to meet their fate by the claw instead of the plasma. Around him, the air grew heavy by the taint of the Dark Side emitting from his black heart. His sole guide, what he recognized as the last flickering Light amidst the ocean of Darkness he had brought upon Karideph.

A single candle in the chamber most bleak. He openned himself up in the Force, his masked face requiring no visual to trace the running Padawan's path towards the entrance of the Starport, for so much was the contrast she caused in the thin fabric of the Unseen. While the Netherspawns danced around the unwilling sacrifice he brought before them, and as the horde feasted upon the spoils of his carnage, the Dark Lord had interest in the tinny spark, besieged by the grim reality he made manifest.

He would see the limits of that light. He would taste the desperation before reality's most bleak revilation, before the Force decided the final end.

Y̴̨̡͖̼̱͙͙̞̤̱͗̓́̋́́̂͛ơ̶̧͕̬̩͓͙̩̫̑̌͑̉ṵ̴̳̹̳͖͔̟͓̼̬̗̘̹̯͒̄̎̒̋̀̽́̄̎̃̚͠͠͠͝ ̷̨̘͍͕̫̤̜͎̼̮̤͒̾̆̆ć̵̡̢̘̮͍̦͚̩̝̪̠̯͎͓̀̽̈͛̉͋̓̈̌̿͌͊a̵̡͔̜̙̍ͅn̸̛̺͖͎̜̎͌̃̆̅̍̄͂́̂̈́͂͂͗͘͝ń̵̢̨̦̞̺̮͉̞̥̗̫͓̏͑ͅö̷͍̩͓́̄̅͐́͑t̴̡̝̀͐̃͛̄̃̃̀͘͝͝ ̸̗̰̹̘͍̲͇̗̽͌̇̂̎̓̚ô̸̳̭̎̆̐͋̋̒͑̂ų̶̻̠̠̩̣͇͊́̕ţ̸̪̗̺̜̖̓͗̈́r̵̨͋̽͐̕͠ͅų̴̛̞̖̮̇̎̄͒̀̿̎͝n̶̛̖̻̂̀͑̽̾ ̴̛̛̟̉̾͋̈̾̍͐̑̃̑͊t̶̢̺̤̥̭̬̱̯̮̣͆̋̅̇̏̈́͆̓͗̓͝h̸̡̨̛̞̹̲̟̜̹̥̝͖̙̭̋̀͑̈́͊͗̐̀̔̂͘͠͠ͅe̴̺̗̞̹̜̯̪̓̏͑̎̐͒͘̚͝͝ ̵̮͚̪̹̹͔͎͕̠̠͉̯̰͈̮̱́́̈́͆͜N̵̢̨͖͖̳̦̭͙͎̟̮̙̣͍̑͋̾̓͗̚͝ͅḯ̶̡̯̗̥̺̘͙̜̗͎͍͔̅̔̍̚͜g̴͍̾̊̊̇͒̋̀̔̔̿͐̊͋͐̕h̷̨̧̛̹̪̪̩͇͖̦̜͙͎̯͕͙́͆̐͌͌̑̔̈́̈́̕͝͠ṱ̴̨̫͎͓̘̀̀.̶̡̛̞̫̮͓͕̝̈́͂


​

The echoes of his will sounded through the invisible web of the Force, twisted and corrupt by the Dark Side's deep corruption that had grown roots within him, extending beyond like tendrils of malice, infecting with the plague of bloodletting all those whos minds fell aligned with the Dark Lord....

Ȳ̵̤̩̺̺͉̳̩͕̺̮̠̰͘ơ̴̡̡̞̘̠̦̰̺͕͇͙̇̆͋̓̉̆͗̃̇̌͗̓͂̂̐u̷̧̫̼̯̖̭̟̯͎̱͖̍̃̀̊̂̒̈́̓̿̎̅͋͘͘͜͝ ̷̡͉̆̓̑̓͊́͊̈́̓͑̾̔̀̽͑̋̕ç̸̡̦̹̘̹͍͇̤̯͈͔̳̯̟̹̯̎͑̅̒͂̄̃͆̑́͠͠ằ̶̧̯̤̤̹̹̄̀̈́̐͋̑̚͘̚̚͜͠n̸̡͉͙͉̦̺͑̅̄̂́́͆̂̑̈́̀̿̕͜n̷̬̠̭͉͕̺̺̰̼̬̊̈̈̀͜ͅó̵̢̧͈͉̜̤̫͚͍̩͓͖͉̮͐̇̉̀͐͐͆̄̚t̶̡͖̲̜̣̳̬̮̱͎̎͗̓̆̄̚͘͜͝ ̶̧̥̫̟͛̇h̷̥̮͓̲͔̹̙́͊̂̚͝i̶̘̝͆̆͑̌͒͂̈́͆̐̇͠ḑ̷̡̧̨̛̘̗̱̤͉͇͍̜̭̿̾̋̎̊̚̚̕ͅͅȇ̷̘̦͇̄̓̏̀͊̔̈͝ͅ ̴̧̜̩̔͊̉̀͒̽̾̀͘̚f̴̼̗̱̘̤̙͇̤̜̙̔̀̓̇͆̌̎̆̂́̔̔̇͐r̸̛̲͎̓̑̏̓̔̀̍̂́͑̓́̆͂͝͝ơ̷̧̢̧̝͔̟̠͇͉̭̇̐̅͑̂ṁ̸̛̲͒̓͋̎͂͗̂̓̐̇ ̶̛̝̥̭̺̫͙̜̒̾̍͆͋̽͠͝t̴̡̡̡͇͈̻̣͓̰̖̲̗̩̑̏̎̐̅̏̈́͆͛͋̚͝ͅḩ̷̞͔͍̰̪̬̪͓͂̊̽̄̾́̃̕e̵͔̫͓̟͍̩̖̼̼̝̱̼͕̬̿ ̷̛̬̩̫̪̜̘͉̩̱̹̞͚͔̾́͂̑̚͜D̴̨̨̢̰̣͇̖̙̞̺̙̟̗̲̺̼͇͌̋́̿͛̒̈́͝ǎ̴̛̹̺̗̿̂̔̊̀̏̓̆̍̅͂̓̉͗ͅṙ̸̩̰̜͔̬̭̬͌̌̏̒́̈́͠͝͝k̶̢̡͓̗͕̮͍͓̰̗̟̅́̈́̋͂̍͆͌̔̑͘



​

The entrance of the starport was abandoned. Any troopers yet alive had pulled back, rushing for the last shuttle that had yet to depart. The first stray turbolaser shots had marked the upper segments of the Starport's structure, caving deep holes on the building. Flames started spreading, consuming all what was left in their blinding tempest crowned by ashen darkness.

 

[Roshia Chamiane]

The sheer distance Roshia had ran just to get the Starport was nothing to scoff at, she had ran far indeed. Her will to survive and faith in the Force carried her will and body to the destination that she had finally arrived. She could sense nothing but the dark side all around her, as if she was in dark, icy cave with no other sources of light, There was something else as well, as if a pair of eyes were upon her with a dark and terrible gaze that she could not pinpoint where or what it was. The voice, she could hear it in her mind and it nearly stopped her in her tracks from surprise, though she kept going. Whomever it belonged to she'd dare not face in the field.

Roshia finally leap into the Starport, and yet, much to her dismay, there was.... nothing. There were no defending troppers or other jedi as she had expected, it was devoid of ships as well. A near-bottomless pit of despair formed in her chest, a slow realization that she may have been left behind, at the absolute mercy of the Sith forces.

Still, she still clung on to hope or perhaps, it was just desperation. Roshia kept her lightsaber ignited as she trudged on towards the landing bay.

 

[Eosfor]

Foulness filled the air, even beyond the already unbearable scent of ptomaine and coalgulated blood. No, this was different. Unseen tendrils of crimson piercing through the minds of those yet to die, casting an irrevokable Dread that consumed their thoughts until only darkness remained, driving the troopers to grasp their weapons and turn to the closest living creature in sight, in desperate hopes of the Force Dread going away... The blaster marks of the scattered Republic troopers all told the exact same story of friendly fire, and suicide. Those few who had no weapons to use, they resulted in hitting their own heads against a corner or the nearest wall up until the very helmet was caved in and their skulls bled open.

The last of the shuttles was visible, over the landing bay, as it hovered upward, into the maelstorm of turbolaser and plasma beams. To the distant eye, it felt as if the pilots themselves were ignorant of the shadowing warship looming over the shuttle. It took several shots from turbolasers beyond the line of sight allowed by the starport's structure.

The grim figure of the Dark Lord standing under the arched blastgate of the Landing Bay. His saberstaff's blade illuminating his side unstable crimson, while the very level of corruption endured by the broken Kyber visible by the black heart of the plasma blade.

In silence, the Dark Lord stepped onward, to the Padawan, letting his dark aura flood his surroundings, like yet another strike of the hammer on the blade fiery in defiance, against the anvil.

 

[Roshia Chamiane]

It was a terrifying, surreal sight, to see the troopers languish and suffer under an invisible poison seeping into their minds. Roshia was at a lost on whom to speak with, how or what to do with them except watch as their live their final moments. For Roshia, her trained mind kept the force dread at bay, and it lingered around her mind like cold ice around a fire, threatening to overtake the remaining heat, should her will lapse even slightly. She stared up at the sky at what seemed to be the last shuttle over the landing bay, and whatever the shuttle fate was, her only hope of reuniting with the main force was truly gone.

She turned sharply towards the new arrival by the blastgate of the Landing Bay. It wasn't the crazed Sith warrior from earlier, nor was it anything like from the tides she had skillfully evaded. Dark robed, armored, surrounded by an oppressive aura of the dark side and a crackling saberstaff in hand. It did not take much guessing to realize that this was a Dark Lord of the Sith. Potentially, the one responsible for all the carnage around her.

Her eyes remained firmly on him as he wordlessly stepped towards her. Roshia held her lightsaber, but did not hold a specific form stance, it remained pointed at the ground, almost scraping it. Her fingers dug tightly into the silver-gold hilt, she could feel her heart pounding wildly in her chest. From the storm of emotions she felt and sheer fatigue from her long run. Her breaths came in quick, deep pants. Though, her eyes were filled with continued defiance, despite the grim circumstances.

Each step the Dark Lord took, Roshia took two steps back, never letting him leave her sight and it seemed as if she was waiting for him to strike first. She continued to do so until she was close to one of the elevated landing pad's slanted support pillars.

Then, in a sudden move, she leapt backwards into the air with the assistance of the force, doing a singular flip before landing on the landing bay's rooftops.

Roshia wasted no time in an all out sprint once more. Running along the rooftops towards the direction of the arched blastgates, heading towards the main Starport area.

 

[Hazdrabal the Cannibal]

I̸̼̰̱̫͉̬̺̲͔̖̮̞̣̝͒̔̇͘͜͜ ̸̢̦̯̙̺̙̤̺̮͚̻̲͈̬̈͒̎̑̀ṣ̵̄̿̔̓̂̈́͂̎̒̿͌̂̅̓́̎ȩ̴̫̖͎̫̘̱̣͕͈̲̈̈́͛̈̈́̈̌͜ē̴̯͓̰̪͉̜̞̗ ̴̨͖̠̙̀͒̏̃̑̆̒̄̉͘̚y̶̡̢͉̼̭͉͔̬͊̿͊̀̍̎͑͘o̵̧̻̣̼͔̠̩̥̰̙͎͗̒̅̇ư̶̢͚̠͇͍̬̗̹͇͔̮͙̭̭̅͊̓̔͛̅́̐̈̓̽̾̏̔̆​

The Dark Lord's will pressing upon the Jedi's mind like a hammer against a nail on iron, casting blows of Dread, until desperation and horror bleeds in and bends the body into submission. There was no rush, nor interest of the Dark Lord to pursue the Jedi, for he knew, who drove the Jedi onward was blind hope.

Hope.

There was no hope in Darkness. And he had drenched Karrideph in it. His voice echoed determined; Absolute; Demanding.

As the Jedi jumped up, the Dark Lord's gaze followed her. His sinister mind already sensing the beckon of malice unleashed against her, knowing what she too did, yet refused to accept. There was no way out. There was nowhere to hide. There was nowhere to run. And yet, the degree of defiance demonstrated by the Jedi stirred something deep within the Dark Lord that he felt his very own, though twisted will beset upon Karrideph, gave speed to the fleeing Jedi.

It was not fear what drove her.

It was Defiance.

The blood-drenched berserker leapt on the starport's top. His lightsaber screeched besides him, unwilling to fade; Thirsty for the bloodletting to come.

He jumped right infront of the Jedi, posing himself a blockade. As soon as eyes met, Hazdrabal thrusted both his claws forth, summoning a Force-borne wind that blew against the Jedi, strong enough to cast her back, if she fell on its path, even all the way off the edge, down to the Landing Bay from whence she fled from.

Hazdrabal's rage pulsated in the Force, his three red cybernetic eyes malfunctioning as the artificial implants suffered by the tinny sparks of lightning caused by the body's protesting to their existence. The Warlord was overcome by rage and bloodlust, lost in the spiral of battle carnage enough to be completely enthralled by the Dark Lord's oppressive will made manifest in the Force.

 

[Roshia Chamiane]

No matter how much the hammer struck at the nail, it remained standing. Pure defiance against the Dark Lord's will prevented Roshia from breaking under the barrage of force dread against her. There was hope as well, a not-so-small amount of desperation against her inevitable fate.

She skidded to a half when Hazdrabal had jumped right in front of her, halting her escape plan. His force push just about nearly threw her off the rooftops, but Roshia managed to stop herself from dropping at the edge, just barely. Standing up after hastily regaining her bearings and now glaring at Hazdrabal as she moved away from the edge and closer to the center-part of the rooftop's path, hiding her from the Dark Lord's sights. The Dark Lord wanted to duel her, that was much apparent, no doubt seeking the satisfaction of slaying a jedi for himself.

No. Roshia refused to allow him that pleasure so easily.

The path to escape was not so easy. If she attempted to force leap over Hazdrabal, that would most certainly result in her being pushed down to the landing bay. Running pass would simply initiate a duel with the Dark Lord's servant even if she had used force dash to enhance her speed, and there seemed to be very little in the way of alternatives. After spending a short amount of time thinking of her next move, she turned and began to return in the opposite direction.

It was futile, of course, but she hoped the Sith Warlord would attempt to jump ahead of her, where she intended to push him off the rooftops with the force.

 

[Hazdrabal the Cannibal]

"Jedi Coward!"

Hazdrabal bellowed, focusing his rage and memories of pain imprinted on him by a Jedi, to grant himself unnatural speed through the twisting of the Force around him. His artificial eyes fixated on the fleeing Jedi. He would not let her escape. He could not let her escape. Be it the very urge to avenge his own pain through inflicting it upon those he saw the same as that Jedi Master who felled him, or the knowledge of what awaited him should he failed before the Dark Lord's own eyes, the drive to engage the Jedi caused his blood to pump enough for the veins to become swollen.
The Warlord rushed behind the Jedi, letting the Dark Side fuel his muscles into unnatural speed.

He ran after her, for a short time that was, up until blades of crimson illuminated the edges of the rooftop, once again fencing the Jedi's path of escape. So strong was the will of the Dark Lord, more and more of his marauders rallied to its beckoning. They each were yet another ill-defined race of alien species, defiled by cybernetics and the Dark Side's pressing corruption, turning them colour-deprived shades and blackening their blood stream to a visible degree. The numerous battles each had survived a testement, by the bionic limbs planted on them to continue their own path of destruction.

Hazdrabal did not halt his pursue, as the Sith too threw themselves upon the Jedi in foaming rage long overtaken by the crushing Darkness that consumed the settlement. Each descending with yet another angled hack, another savage thrust of their plasma weapons, while Hazdrabal himself brought a second lightsaber blade into show, to add to the already overwhelming pressure upon the Jedi.

 

[Roshia Chamiane]

The static sound of lightsaber clashing could be finally be heard from the landing bay's rooftops as Roshia abruptly halted her attempts at running and defended herself from the barrage of crimson blades coming at her. Fully on the defensive, moving fast enough to parry or dodge most strikes against her, though a few close calls that resulted i the looser parts of her robes being cut away, she gritted her teeth as she felt the intense heat close to her skin.

She jumped back and pushed back against the tide with the force in an attempt to allow herself some breathing room. Though, that was short lived as she soon had to defend herself from Hazdrabal. Roshia unsheathed her blue shoto-lightsaber in a haste, as an additional defense against the numerous lightsaber-wielding foes she faced. Eventually, a minor, but painful mistake was made in her defensive moves that allowed Hazdrabal saber to graze her left forearm. Thankfully, was not deep enough to cripple it or cut it off entirely, but even a skin-deep burn was extremely painful.

Eventually, she was pushed to the edge of the rooftops and with no other options, Roshia leapt back down onto the open landing bay to gain some respite from the barrage of enemies, at the price of facing the Dark Lord once more.

She turned to face him, breaths heavy as the long delayed feelings of exhaustion washed over her. Yet, her eyes continued to be fileld with the same defiance as it did earlier- now mixed with resolve. As Roshia finally realized there was no more escape, no more running, a bitter end.

Roshia stood across him, rolling her shoulders and taking the jar'kai stance, reading both her regular and shoto lightsaber in each hand. She did not say a single word, only giving a single nod of her head, as if challenging him to come to her and fight, rather than the other way around.

 

[Eosfor]

"Come to me..."

The Dark Lord's growled as his saberstaff spat its second blade behind him, screeching in vile anticipation of the coming clash. He tightened the armoured grip around the thorned hilt, his one arm tracing the Jedi's descend from above the rooftop. He waited... Lightning sparks errupted across his limb's armour, begging to be unleashed.

He waited...

As the Jedi turned, the Dark Lord had already adopted the typical Makashi stance, bringing his long hilt before his masked gaze, his eyes focusing on the Jedi, as the weapon was held like a spear, presented to the foe in a recognition of valor. Her defiance having captured the Dark Lord's full attention. Among the dozens of Jedi who perished this day, only her, a mere Padawan, had managed to rally such courage to deny him the fate decided for her. He knew well to acknowledge a worthy warrior.

For he, was once one such creature, led blindly into the path marked for him so long before, which he walked so long after...

"Determination... Defiance... Wrath."

The deep growling voice of the Dark Lord finally sounded from within his rotting lungs. The words spoken aloud, clearly and direct, casting an effect around the two strong enough to turn the other Sith away from pursuing the kill they so long craved for.

She was no longer their's to claim.

She was His.

The two shared a moment that dragged on for almost an eternity, freezing them both in a moment of shared anticipation, ending as soon as Roshia offered the nod that marked the beginning of the duel.

The Dark Lord's free hand was extended, the caged wrath within finally unleashed in a thundering storm of Red lightning, screeching in a chorus of a thousand cries of horror as it carved the invisible fabric of the Force separating the two, famished to devour the Jedi.
As the storm burned in a blinding blaze, causing any nearby electronic devices to spark aflame by its intensity, the Dark Lord reached out in the Force, as if using his very own will to fuel the Jedi's dark defiance.

He did not want to kill the Jedi.

He willed to Fight her.

He willed to Break her.