Battle of Zigoola

[Dmitri]

Sionann was Schrödinger's cat. She was trapped in a room with no windows and no doors. A tiled room that was similar to the Coruscanti museum's decor, prior to the planet's devastation. A single bench stood on the floor for the young Jedi, facing a large painting that hung from a wall. The painting was based off of one of Geist Weiss' drawings, Mal De Mer of Azure Nature. Feathery birds flew above a crystal lake.

The entire location was fiction, a construct of Zigoola's illusions forged by Darth Somnus' imagination. The room served as a prison, to occupy Sionnan's mind during her captivity at the Phantom Palace, the Dark Lord's private sanctuary on Zigoola. The room would allow for a distraction. Were Sionnan to attempt to resist the illusions, the painting would come alive and the water inside would begin to flow into the room. The more she struggled, the more water would flow into the box. Panic was the enemy to resisting mind tricks.

Darth Somnus ascended the stairs, his presence abandoning the sub-levels below. Sionnan was properly detained in her cell, a shock collar to help prevent Force usage. The illusions the Dark Lord had enveloped around the girl would keep her occupied for the time being. After all, it had worked wonders on her dungeon-mate, the former councilor Larik Novan. Darth Somnus found mild amusement that the two individuals who had separated after Dis had been reunited. He wondered if Sionann had wondered where Larik had gone after he had sacrificed himself to allow Sionann and the others to escape Clairvoyance. Unfortunately, such antics would help neither this time.

Rookwrr was waiting for him in the corridor. The Wookie was responsible for Sionann's capture, along with having been part of the Dis adventure himself. He had redeemed himself by far for capturing one of the escapees. Motioning for the Wookie to follow him, Darth Somnus spoke as they walked to the throne room. "You have done well. These insurgents caused some damage at Yinchorr, but it could have been worse. A lot worse. You did well. Your recent merits have not gone unnoticed. Rookwrr the Black, consider yourself a Crusader for the Sith's cause no longer. You are now a Master of the Sith." Rookwrr's recent actions had proven the Wookie was up to the challenge. He had eliminated multiple enemies and had saved many of his comrades, from Dis to Yinchorr. The furred giant was a machine whose efficiency was enviable to his peers.

The throne room's door was hidden by illusions. There was a recent Darth Somnus had suggested the Wookie not venture off far alone. Illusions flowed through the Phantom Palace like the air. It was everywhere. Illusions hid passages and pretended others existed. One of the illusionist's former body guards had fallen of a balcony due to illusions giving the impression it was a staircase. The Wookie however was far more in tune with the illusions, more aware of what was real and what wasn't. It also helped that Geist morphed the illusions slightly to be less effective on the Wookie. However, such benefits only existed in the palace. The world at large was a different story.

Darth Somnus at down on the throne whose colors continually morphed, preventing bystanders from deducing if the throne was rugged metal or silk or some other material. The Sith Lord didn't offer a chair to the Wookie, despite a few present. He didn't expect the Wookie to wish to sit.

"I have read your report on what happened at Yinchorr," Darth Somnus said. "The explosive was dealt with. Unfortunately the other academy was hit and was severely damaged. However, ultimately the campaign was not in the rebels' favor. Due to the distractions at Yinchorr, including losing contact with their Jedi agent, our operatives were able to rescue a Sith that the enemy had captured." Geist paused, thinking. "This Jedi. You mention she has a stain in her heart, that of dar-" The Dark Lord stopped and jerked his head to stare at the ceiling. No doubt the Wookie possibly could sense it too. From behind the doors to the throne room, paws were scampering closer. The Dark Lord knew what was about to be reported. "It appears we have visitors. Either they've tracked one of our prisoners down or hope to target the Dark Lord's sanctum. Either way their insolence shall not be tolerated. Rookwrr the Black, show these blasphemers why you deserve to be called a Master of the Dark Side." Darth Somnus opened the doors using the Force and forged a vortex throughout the halls to allow Rookwrr passage through the Phantom Palace without being plagued by illusions. The foyer sat the edge of the barrier, the best place for an ambush by a Master-level assassin. As the Wookie departed, three Covallons raced in the throne room to report the situation. The sentient beasts relayed the information they had, of an enemy vessel of unknown origins having arrived in the system.

Unknown to his agents, but not to the Dark Lord of the Sith. Darth Somnus recognized one of the presences aboard the ship. Sisk Renelo was here.

 

[Clayton]

A small sensation of pride rose in his stomach as Geist congratulated him, and confirmed his position as Master. The reasons were well deserved and, like the myriad of colors Geist's throne was capable of turning, numerous. Talk turned to the captured Sionann, and Rook almost started to nod before he sensed the presence of a rapidly approaching force sensitive. He frowned as it was apparent that the Dark Lord was not expecting visitors. He found himself glad that he had replaced his armor and hand cannon earlier, it seemed like he would need them. Later they could get to the matter at hand and discuss the potential benefits of turning Sionann fully to the Dark Side.

The ripples in the force cascaded around him as Geist gave him clear passage. Rook let out a small growl "They will be taken care of, Lord Weiss." He turned and left the throne room. Whoever was foolish enough to attack the residence of the Dark Lord would run into a brutal surprise. The lightsaber he had stolen from Xotomi's corpse rested comfortably in his hand. The Drumbeat and a secondary saber were within easy reach, though he left them in their holsters. If he had need of them he would use them, but for now he preferred to have a hand free to wield the force with unrestricted ease.

Rook entered the foyer a short time later, aware that the intruders had yet to breach the Palace. With any luck, they would be ravaged by the illusions of Zigoola, though it was not entirely likely. They would be able to move from their craft to the doors without being hampered. Inside the palace was a different story. Rook had free reign, but they would not. The acid-green blade snapped to life as he approached the heavy doors that led to the outside. He pressed the tip into the locking mechanism, metal snapped as it melted around the blade. He moved the saber down a foot, then used the force to mush the molten metal together. For all intents and purposes, the doors were now sealed and would take effort to breach.

He hoped they would use the force so they would wear down their reserves and have less at the ready to fend off both the Palace's illusions and Rook's attacks. Though judging by what had happened on Yinchorr, the attackers might simply blow the doors. He glanced up to the ceiling as he backed away from the doors so he wouldn't be caught in a blast radius. A wolfish smile crept across his face as he spotted a long metal pipe that ran across the length of the ceiling, spotted with nozzles. Illusions aside, he would be able to cause some degree of confusion for anyone who came through that door. Rook twirled his saber in anticipation, he had the advantage of defensibility, now it was the enemy's move.

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

Zigoola. This place tugged at the corners of his mind with an insidious grasp, plucking at the strings of his mind in an attempt to tear his greatest fears from his thoughts. While this would have been something that could destroy the mind of a normal man easily, Sisk and the men he had brought were Mandalorians, their fears that lurked deep within confronted and conquered long ago. The illusions that would be thrown at them here were just that, illusions. Motion trackers and active scanners would allow the group to filter the false from the true quickly, and therefore be able to move efficiently through the palace. Even Lutomi had a HUD for this mission, stripped down and modified from a Mandalorian helmet. It was a simple design, consisting of a glassteel monocle attached to an earpiece and base sensor system. It wouldn't give her access to most of the helmet systems or the Mandalorian battlenet, but she would be able to track targets, use a motion sensor, and follow a map. Hopefully it would let her save her strength until she really needed it.

Around him, strapped into their jumpseats sat 24 members of his Clan, fully kitted and ready to go, the heavy weaponry that they had bought from the Kushari cradled across their chests on weapon slings. An extra seat was occupied by Lutomi, who even without a jetpack would be able to make the drop thanks to the Force. Sisk ran a quick check of his own gear, the 10/20 carbine with 8 extra magazines, his heavy pistol, gauntlet weapon systems, Beskad, crushgaunts, glop, sonic grenades, extra missiles for his MM9, jetpack with guided concussion missile, lightsaber, combat knives, and all armor systems operational. He was ready.

That hut'uun Wookiee was here. All the Intel pointed to it. That was the only reason Sisk had come. He had no interest in captured Jedi, but revenge... Revenge was worth being here for. Either he or Xotomi's killer would lie dead by the end the day, and Sisk would make sure that he still stood. His thoughts were interrupted by the PA system in the bay, the pilots voice coming through steadily. "Breaking atmospheric barrier in 3. 2. 1." The ship shuddered fiercely as they broke atmo and then smoothed out as the pilot put them into a steep dive, the hull rattling as they screamed towards the ground and closer to destiny.

"Preparing for fly-by and scan. Moving to instruments only. Buckle in. This could get rocky." The ship pulled out of its dive and banked sharply, screaming through the air as the powerful sensors dug into the palace to form a layout. That information was piped to Lutomi's astromech, who would convert it into a usable map. Knowing Weiss as he did, Sisk had no doubts that the palace would push the very limits of sanity, and providing everyone with tools to hold onto the real world would help them get out of here alive.

As the bird circled the palace, Sisk opened his comm to everyone on board. "Motion trackers and sensors, vode. You can't trust your eyes or your mind here. IFF stays on for quick check. The Kom'rk will stay on station to provide cover, updated scans, and extraction. Keep to your squads, check your corners, and gun down any son of a bitch that gets in your way. Oya Mando!" the call reverberated through the comm and through the ship, accompanied by the sounds of magazines being slid home and slides being racked.

After two passes around the palace the pilot was satisfied with his scans. "Layout is being piped through. Prepare to drop." The hatches underneath yawed open as the dropship swooped towards the doors, the landscape passing under them in a blur. Sisk hit the quick release on his straps as the seats began to lower. The dropship dropped lower. 50 meters. 40 meters, 30 meters, 20 meters. At 10 meters the pilot leveled them out and hit the airbrakes, slowing them quickly and putting them into an assault front. A small shove pushed Sisk away from the dropseat and he plummeted to the hard ground, forgoing his jetpack out of practicality. The Force cushioned his fall and he landed easily on his feet, his carbine already raised and steadied on the door.

The double doors were tall and imposing, but Sisk didn't care. All he saw was a barrier to his goal. "Bring them down!" The dropship above let two heavy concussion missiles fly, and they traversed the 75 meters in the blink of an eye, detonating dead center in the middle of the obstacle. Ripped from their hinges and blown inwards, the doors flipped and spun through the hallways, heavy dual stones of death, ripping through everything in their path. Even from this distance he could hear stone shatter, metal groan and shriek, until finally the booming sounds stopped. The Mandalorians were sprinting at the door full speed, sensors scanning and motion trackers active, all eyes focused on their equipment.

Short glimpses of memory and myth whipped by at the corners of his vision, but Sisk forced them aside as his feet found the steps and carried him with purpose towards the top, his brothers and sisters at his heels. As his helmet came over the crest and he was able to see into the foyer he almost drew up short at the devastation caused. A quick scan of the hallway proved his eyes correct, with the exception of the fanged monsters perched on the debris that his motion sensors quickly proved to be illusions. The hall was devastated for almost 100 meters, the masterfully carved walls now gouged and cracked, the ceiling with its mosaic inlays and cleverly hidden pipes and maintenance entrances shattered and broken. The doors lay at the end, crumpled and broken against the far wall, almost framing the entrance deeper into the palace.

And there... There in the middle of the devastation was the Sith he had come to kill. Rookwrr stood among the devastation, Xotomi's lightsaber clutched in his paw. Sisk would have recognized the design anywhere. Marcus raised his carbine but Sisk put a hand on the barrel and forced it down.

"No. Complete your mission. His head is mine."

 

[TAC]

The Jedi Master took a deep breath as he slowed, his heartbeat decelerating to match the beats of his feet. The skin on his arms prickled as his lungs gasped for air, a slight discoloration visible in his extremities due to the lack of oxygen and the cold weather. His legs burned but in a different way, the lactic acid weighing them down after his hard run. Larik placed his hands on his hips as his gait turned to a walk, his breath lit up in front of him as he struggled to bring his body back into equilibrium. The mist that bent and twisted through the sparse tree and foliage made Larik uneasy, though, in a way that he had never felt before.

This was his morning routine and it had been the same since he was just a young boy. Mr. Novan, more usually referred to as Lieutenant Novan back in his CorSec days, had at a very young age instilled within Larik the importance of up-keeping and preparing his body. The old Corellian had no idea at the time what Larik's life would bring him, a life of success and greatness, a life of failure and desperation, but the old man had never doubted the potential and determination he had seen in his son's eyes. What the man knew he passed on to his son during Larik's training for CorSec, and they were lessons that the younger Novan had kept with him all his life.

What Larik felt, what he saw, was Empress Teta. The Jedi Temple on that world had been his home for many years once he joined the Order, and there were many lessons, friends, and fond memories that drew a smile to the Jedi Master's lips. It had been a long time since those relatively peaceful days. The war was on, but war Larik could deal with. It was the defeat; the persecution, execution, and annihilation of all that he had learned to trust in the galaxy that was the worst for him. War was a terrible thing, but the rule of the Imperium had turned out to be far worse - or at least, it certainly wasn't doing any favors for worlds like Coruscant, Corellia, and many others that had chosen to resist the rule of the Sith.

Suddenly, an uneasiness came over Larik. It wasn't uneasiness for himself, though. The mists of the forest shifted in odd ways, shadows cast in and amongst the trees as the sun struggled to filter down through the obstacles that stood between it and its inevitable reflection off the Earth. The dirt on the ground shifted and the leaves on the trees shook as a sonic boom shattered the silence. The Jedi's body tensed - what was that? Another boom, more intense than the last, shattered the silence again. Some of the mist started to concentrate, swirling around a particular point that started taking form - the form of a human.

"Lutomi?" the man questioned as he began to recognize the mist-humanoid.

There was another sonic boom, and the mist-being flew at the Jedi. He ducked, spinning out of the way, and found himself altogether removed from Empress Teta. "Ah," the Jedi muttered to himself as he grabbed for his aching head and found himself on the dungeon floor of the Dark Lord's palace. The Jedi had found that the only way to survive this place was to embrace the visions - all they did was trick his own mind into bringing out old, distant memories. Some hurt, but most were painless, and he was saving his energy for a day like today.

Slowly, Larik stood to his feet. That vision of the mist hadn't just been a memory, the Jedi could feel his old padawan here. A rescue mission, perhaps? Their minds had surged towards once another when his had realized she was around, the familiarity giving his mind reason and assurance enough to throw off the power of the fortress. There were others - another dark presence that the Dark Lord was moving away from, a Jedi Knight named Sionann Ione that he knew well, and a more grey figure that was apparently accompanying his once-Padawan. Along with them were two dozen others that had a much smaller presence in the Force. That man that accompanied Lutomi, the grey once - Larik was never a fan of those Force users who found themselves in the "middle". They were Usually a liability, in his experience, but there must have been a reason Lutomi brought him and not some of the more powerful Jedi Masters that Larik counted amongst his closest friends and allies.

Not wanting to expose Lutomi to the effects of the fortress through him, he kept their minds "at arms length." She would have felt him as he did her within the vision, but he did not want to risk distracting her from the mental barrage that awaited her within the Fortress. His head starting to clear as he stood and he cautiously walked over to the doors. They were large, not out of the scope of his power to throw open, but he was weak. And he knew all too well that these doors were not the biggest obstacle standing between himself and freedom.

Death in the form of the Dark Lord of the Sith was.​

 

[Mistress]

Lutomi avoided the immediate area of confrontation with her twin's killer, as Sisk laid claim on his head. Cloaked upon her approach, she slipped inside the entrance behind the others with the Force as her guide. Hovering her body erect above the wreckage, she examined the stability of the floor before she cautiously set down upon it. Crystal shards littered the floor, crunching under her feet as she's stepped through the entrance which Sisk had conveniently created, an act she preferred he hadn't done.

"Someone is gonna be pissed."

She could see the outlines of the crystal shapes built into the structure, massive by natural design and very many, viewed within the map of the palace which she has been studying to her memory since it was received. Crystals harbor the metaphysical energies of their Master's. Today, her sister's lightsaber will find its way home to its rightful owner.

The Dark vortex resonated from far past the planet's orbit. Here, nearly suffocating under the weight of Darkness, Lutomi looked around herself through Force Sight. Energy twisted and turned, a living entity, as a serpent coiling and lashing out at the approach of an unknown presence; unwelcomed. Light to its Darkness, polar opposites, both attempting to encroach upon the existence of one another. Both equally pronounced and permanently impressed upon their beholders, Mastered, never to be stripped away.

Two lights resonated from within the Darkness from the levels below her, one struggling much harder than the other. Both obviously suffering their own individual turmoil. Lutomi felt their obvious confusion and distress. 'Illusions', immediately came to mind offered by Larik, most likely unbeknownst to his awareness. The Force moved wild about them as well, she didn't doubt it. Lutomi reached out and forced her thoughts outward to them. Larik attempted to push her back out. All she wanted is for him to "Listen..." Larik was her Master, a man always trying to hide from her behind his stoicism, she, a natural Telepath. At times, unintentionally, she learned to sense his thoughts, those which he had never assigned language. She felt closer to him than anyone else alive, accepting him as a father figure. First touching upon, "Larik..." Then finding, "Sionann..." she encouraged, "Remember who and what you are."

Lutomi stopped not far inside for a brief moment, standing still within the wake of the Force set for Rooks's passage. She eyes the artistry around her, bid respect where respect was due, taking a moment to acknowledge the incredible creativity of the designer of such a majestic fortress. Thought it a shame how such a magnificent mind would be forever bound and enslaved to the will of the intense passion driven Darkside of the Force. Although they are passions she too knows incredibly well, she allows a different set of rules to govern her actions. She wondered what sort of accomplishments one of his caliber would create were he instead destined a Jedi.

There is no denying the awareness attained through Larik, even in so brief a touch as she had encouraged him, 'the Dark Lord of the Sith resides here.' She certainly did not reach out to the Darkness.

Lutomi held her focus on the Force Signatures of Larik and Sionann and she made another attempt at contact. "We are of living Light."

Follow the wake of the easy path and be lead to the master behind the fortress, or choose the hard path directly to her loved ones, not a difficult choice. Her HUD revealed the path. Her little Artoo Unit watched life signs from the comfort of the Mandalorian ship. Lutomi's two Apprentices remained to assist behind the scenes.

Continuing on, she followed the path which the map revealed would lead to the lower levels. Here, Lutomi felt the disorder of the chaos attempt to weigh down upon her. She saw no passage where it is revealed there should be one. She opened a link to the Mandalorians, //Be forewarned, this place is a labyrinth to the senses,// she declared. //Let's just hope it's not a Pandora's Box,// she added, more to herself.

The Projective Telepath shared once again what she recognized her two friends probably need most, "There is emotion, yet peace."

Lutomi stood before what her eyes told her is a wall, but the map determined otherwise. "If this isn't real, I'm going to appear really insane to a bunch of people watching my life sign walk head-on into a wall," she whispered to herself. She lifted one foot in front of her, and in blind faith stepped forward. The HUD was valuable as an additional sense, much like Force Sight would reveal.

"Ignorance, yet knowledge."

This first, singular, small obstacle, Lutomi overcame.

 

[Clayton]

The twin doors crashed open and tumbled across the foyer as stone tiling and artwork were rent into tattered pieces. Rook had figured that they would breach with explosive, so he had sequestered himself between a wall and pillar with a barrier to protect his ears from a shockwave, but he had not expected concussion missiles. When he emerged after the doors had passed his position, he saw debris spread out across the large room, the two doors at a halt against the far wall. He snorted, Geist wouldn't be pleased at the destruction. Mandalorians were headed his way at a full sprint, led by a figure he recognized instantly. Sisk! Ever since Dis, when he had enough to put together who Xotomi was, ever since the breakout at Reckoning, he had studied the Mandalorian's file. He had an inkling that one day they would meet. Rook had, after all, killed Sisk's wife.

The blast had shattered ceiling tile as well, and Rook reached up with the force and snapped the spigot off one of the pipes. Slick, white, fire-retardant foam sprayed out of the wound. The goopy material gushed downwards like a disgusting rain, it coated the floors and walls of the from half of the foyer in the slick substance. Several mandalorians skidded and splayed out their arms in an attempt to keep their balance. It would be almost comical if the situation wasn't quite dire.

Rook stood a solid ten meters on the side of the foyer not coated with foam. He stared back at the widowed husband, it was very likely that one of them would be dead by the end of the fight. "Have you come to meet an honorable end, Renelo? So you could die with your pride and glory intact and see your wife again in whatever lies beyond life? I can grant you that, an eternity with her," he growled, loud and full of malice as the warrior approached. Another mandalorian raised his rifle, and Rook reached into the force, ready to kill him, but Sisk forced the barrel down with his own hand. Rook knew that this was going to be a tough battle, and that he would need to use every advantage he had. Right now that was the slick terrain the mandalorians had yet to leave. When Sisk moved to force the rifle down, Rook raised his own blaster, the straps snapped away as the weapons was ripped from the holster. He fired two sonic blasts at Sisk, the first aimed at his waist, the second at his torso. The powerful pistol boomed with thunder as the sound waves cracked forth.

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

Sisk watched the Sith raise a pistol and fire at him, the weapon bucking in the large fist. The 40 meters between him and the Sith were eaten quickly by the round, and as the one aimed at his torso landed he was surprised by the lack of pain. In fact, there was only a slightly annoying buzzing sound. The one aimed at his head flew by without even grazing him and Sisk blinked in surprise. He blink-clicked and zoomed in on the pistol in the Sith's grip and almost laughed as he recognized the Drumbeat clutched in the furry hand. 20 meter range. Bad choice to start a fight at range with. In fact, it was a bad idea for this choice of venue, being better suited for areas where ones opponent couldn't move around, like starship corridors or execution arenas. His weapon, however, suffered from no such limitations.

He raised his 10/20 B.K to his eye, sighted on the Sith, and squeezed the trigger gently, and then squeezed it again and again and again, the heavy rifle bucking in his hands, Sisk forcing the barrel into alignment as the four shots ripped towards their target, covering the 40 meters separating them in 0.06 seconds, green plasma enveloping the slug and leaving a bright trail on its path to its prey. Sisk wasn't going for anything fancy and had placed all four rounds on a collision course with Rookwrr's chest, a huge target. Less than a second and a half had passed since Rookwrr had fired at him. His left hand, solid on the barrel, slid down towards the grenade launcher hung from the underside of the barrel, preloaded with a glop grenade. The scope had already been locked in on Rookwrr, and would track the big Wookiee as long as he was in front of the rifle, keeping the smart fuze inside the grenade primed for the correct distance.

Sisk's feet were spread slightly, his knees bent, balanced on the balls of his feet. He was ready to move however he needed to depending on what the Sith would or could do in the next second. Around him the Mandalorians took to the air, drifting over the Sith at 25 meters, chuckles being heard over the comm channel as they landed at the far door and slipped through.

 

[Mistress]

It is physically dark in this corridor. In addition, it is dark with the Force extreme. Dark as in living death. The crystals have not been damaged in this portion of the fortress. There is a single image she is able to make out with her eyes. That is, the hall reflects her own image back to her. Her mirror reflection travels along with her, fooling her eyes as it began to take on an independence about it. Notice of this caused Lutomi to stop and do a double-take as her memory tripped back to older days, momentarily identifying her own reflection as that of her Late twin, Xotomi.

'Many years ago Xotomi had a dream. As our Soul was singularly created within the pool of life, an Angel and a Demon each grasped hold. Warring over the one, they tore us in two. Each having fashioned one of us twins as their prize, Xotomi always feared one of us would turn up inherently evil, while the other entirely good. While Xotomi did not feel evil...' "She likewise worried for me," Lutomi said aloud to herself. Turning towards the reflection in the darkened hall, she affirmed to the dearly departed Soul, "It was just a dream, Xotomi."

As Lutomi stood facing her memory, she heard Two Bits the Artoo Unit, chirp in a warning over her HUD. The little droid urged her to keep following the path, from the safety of Sisk's vessel. Lutomi then realized her momentary stagnation. She shook off the mental confusion, and again dashed further down the hall.

"Faith. All obstacles are presented for solving with the mind. Do you hear me, Larik? Sionann?" the Telepath continued to reach out, hoping to help lead them both back to reality.

She watched in the darkness for their Light to shimmer, if even just a little flutter. Lutomi came to the stairs which descended down to the pit of this strange abyss. There is no doubt in her mind where they will lead her.

"Passion, yet serenity."



Once in the lower levels, it felt like forever had passed where Lutomi ran past the locked doors finding nothing but empty rooms. She ran farther and farther, in circles it seemed. Each door appearing like the previous. The objective began to feel frustrating and hopeless. Two Bits once again chimed in overly excited through her ear piece. It is then that Lutomi increased her focus solely upon her family. She told the Force exactly where she wanted to be, and she allowed the Force guide her. The illusion cleared, and revealed that the Jedi Master stood before Larik's tall prison cell door, as if perhaps it had been within her reach all along. She could feel the chaos emanating from his cell. Still there is guidance received from the Light of the Force, even in the underbelly of Darkness.

"Chaos, yet harmony."

Lutomi gazed at the barrier structure before her. She raised her hands out to her sides, and concentrating through the Force, the Jedi reached out Telekinetically and rattled the massive wooden door until it began to chip apart, finally busting clear off its hinges.

Her gaze immediately fell upon her old Master. "Death, yet the Force." There is Larik already standing before the entrance, ready to receive her. A great sense of relief surged through her Soul. A sudden burst of emotion flowed from her as she rushed to draw near to him. Lutomi quickly threw her arms around her father figure, pressuring to replenish him in her Light.

It wasn't but a moment later that she urged Larik on. "Knight Sionann Ione is held captive close by."

 

[Emerald Iris]

She sat there again in the cold darkness, breathing in and out in long drawn breaths to feel the pressure of air leaving her lungs, only to get sucked back in again. Clouds of breath had been filling the room, swirling with the illusions in the darkness, forming into the shapes of tigers and trees, only to see them turning away and fading away.

"Abandonment," Her voice shuddered as a glistening tear fell from her left eye, trailing down a bitter path along her cheek till it landed in her lap. "It is part of pain...it is part of feeling"

Sionann shuddered at the thought of her missing companion and something stirred within. There was a crack in the glass, a ray of light calling for unity that was able to escape the maelstrom within. The crack began to get bigger, but then everything seemed to shake in her world at this point, both within and without, as the palace had come under attack. It was a shake back into feeling, into desire for more, back into darkness.

There was pull, a humble light trying to call to her, a familiar light. It was close, closer than ever before, warm. It felt warm and friendly, a presence she remembered from months ago. There was a passionate spark of joy amidst the cold, the weakness, and the pain. It made Sionann's heart feel a little overwhelmed to a point in which she couldn't remain still any longer.

Her body and mind answered the presence There is emotion and there is feeling. It came out from the walls and ceilings of the dungeons, to the surface and beyond. Embrace their passion...like I have Anyone who pulled on the Force could end up feeling it, a raw amplification of their current emotions. However, this influence through the Force was indirect enough to be shielded from rather easily to those who had the proper training.

This push through the Force heightened her senses to a degree which they shouldn't have been and all the feelings she had been experiencing. Everything was moving in slow motion at this point, every point in the room becoming that much...brighter. The darkness around her seemed more within at this point, as she finally took in the colors of her cell, the contours of the floor, the texture of the walls. Sionann was seeing, and feeling the castle beyond the illusion at this point. Her hands slid along the walls, feeling the brickwork, the cool moist stone between her fingers taking in new sensations, new feelings that were just not the same two she had been experiencing all this time. Then there was something different.

She had touched something colder, thicker, something...artificial. Her senses registered the door, a thick metal door that seemed unable to be moved at all. There was freedom, the sensation of freedom beyond that door and that made it that much more curious.

"I...feel it," She whispered, though her ears registered it as almost a yell. There was a weakness in the door, a point in which it felt as even the slightest tap could crumble it to pieces. "That's it..feel it.."

The top left corner of the door bent slightly at the touch through the Force. With all the commotion outside, it was doubtful the creaking sound was heard. It was only a matter of time till she was set free at this point.

 

[Clayton]

Vengeance was a curious thing. Sisk had some right to call for Rook's blood. Execution as a punishment for deserting a military structure would not sound justifiable to him, even though the Mandalorian had strong opinions about those who abandoned their unit. Then again, he would view the Sith as evil and dishonorable, righteous reasons for one to desert. And Sisk was the grieving husband, he would not listen to reason, thin or not. There was very likely only one way this fight would end, and Rook preferred it if he was the one walking away, as opposed to his opponent.

They had gotten the drop on each other, in a way. Rook had miscalculated the distance between them, his sonic blasts would have no effect. As the "hard" sound sped towards Sisk, the mandalorian stood there, immobile. Immobile, that is, until Sisk raised his rifle. When Rook saw the rifle barrel start to move, he realized that he had made a mistake and needed to act now. Being shot was undesireable, and Rook reacted with the first defense that came to mind. He dropped his blaster and extended his hand.

The force blossomed through it into an invisible field in front of him. Two 10mm rounds slammed against it noiselessly, and dropped to the floor with a metallic clink. The third passed through the barrier at a slowed pace and smacked against his chest armor dead center. It felt like someone had punched him, but the armor held, although that spot was broken and somewhat melted. It was doubtful that it would hold up against anything else. The fourth round chipped the edge of his shoulder pauldron and punched into the flesh behind it. The searing heat of the plasma instantly cauterized the wound. The bullet itself smacked against the bone, though as the shoulder pauldron had taken some of the force, the bone didn't fracture. There was damage to it though, the bone itself was bruised, and would be extremely painful to use, and the range of motion would be greatly diminished. Rook would definitely not be using that arm for swordplay. Or punching.

He snarled in pain, Sisk would not have the satisfaction of putting Rook down with a few well-placed shots. He twisted to one side as the bullet imparted its force to him, and he turned back to face Sisk, black hatred showing across his face.

It had occurred to him that Sisk was quite foolish, or quite calculating. Zigoola was a planet steeped in the Dark Side, Rook knew that Sisk had been in the Jedi at some point, but perhaps he would be willing to draw in upon that darkness. Perhaps the Jedi way of the force had been abandoned entirely by the Mando. Still, it would not be enough to be an equal match against Rook, for the wookiee could draw on that own darkness as well. Would it be enough to make a noticeable difference?

No, he thought.

Those dark threads that spread across Zigoola like an inky spiderweb, visible only to those sensitive are what Rook snared to augment his own power as he suddenly clenched his hand into a fist as he grabbed Sisk's glasteel visor with the full weight of his augmented power to shatter it inwards. Unless Sisk could come up with a defense, splintered daggers would lance in to pierce Sisk's eyes and surrounding flesh. If Sisk did not have utter control over even his involuntary reflexes, he might even inhale some of those splinters.

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

As Rook took the round to the shoulder and twisted around, Sisk fired the glop grenade in a low skipping arc across the floor. The grenade skipped once and then slid across the slippery surface, sending up a small spray as Rook began to turn back to him. The smart-fuse inside was a beautiful thing, only setting off the payload inside once it had reached its designated point. If caught and thrown back or sent away from the big Sith the grenade would be harmless unless sent back to its intended destination. And as the grenade grew closer Sisk's eyes widened as Rook raised his hand and clenched the fist. Even though Sisk hadn't used the Force in years it still gave him small warnings. In most people it would be considered nothing but luck, perhaps a quick tinge that would point them in the right direction, but for those who understood the subtle undercurrents of the galaxy, the slight twinge was unmistakeable. Danger.

Sisk threw himself to the side, but Rook's attack still managed to hit his visor. The left side cracked and spiderwebbed as Sisk's shoulder hit the floor and he rolled to his knees. His ammo counter and target indicators disappeared, along with any chance of using his binocs or vision modes. The Glop grenade entered its target zone as the visor cracked and detonated, sending its payload rolling across the floor. As Sisk came out of his roll his arm straightened and he fired the mm9 rocket launcher loaded with a cluster missile built into his gauntlet. Although his targeting indicators were down, the targeting system themselves weren't, and after Sisk had fired at Rook they had locked onto the large Wookiee.

The missile left the launcher and broke apart into six warheads loaded with concussion payloads, mushrooming out along different paths towards the Sith, homing in on their target and streaking across the distance. Sisk was already coming to his feet, his HUD flashing red at him from the upper right corner. He shut the warning off as he came to his feet in a run and snapped the visor open, skirting along the edge of the fire retardant. His boots beat out a steady rhythm on the tile as he brought the rifle back up, his crushgaunts whining slightly as they gripped on, and sighted in on the Sith and continued a barrage of plasma coated fire. Round after round poured towards the Sith, leaving bright contrails as they ate up the distance between them. Even if Rook somehow managed to stop both the grenade and the missiles, he'd already have slugs streaming towards him again before he could blink. At the clip Sisk was moving he'd be able to keep the Sith on his toes, and with that damaged arm it opened up a whole new world of possibilities for the Mandalorian.

 

[Clayton]

Rook made a disgusted face as the glop grenade exploded, spraying the sticky substance on his fur and adhering his feet to the mess. Worse, his fur was coated in the infernal stuff. Moving from his position would be impossible for the time being. He was not in a favorable position, truth be told. But then Sisk attempted to dodge Rook's retaliation to being shot, but was clearly not quick enough as the visor shattered. Sisk seemed to be momentarily distracted, an opportunity he would not pass up.

With a savage twist of his will, the Wookiee grabbed the would-be Mandalore bodily with the Force, holding him in a vice-grip so strong, the man's legs snapped together and his arms were pinned to his sides. With another twist of his power, Rook sent the Mandalorian flying high into the air before slamming him violently back into the ground spraying stone dust and glop everywhere with the force of the impact. Rook repeated the process again and again, the armored human powerless in his grasp.

 

[TAC]

"Death, yet the Force," the aging Jedi joined as his younger counterpart threw open the door to his chamber. The Corellian's weathered face smiled a sad but wide grin at the young woman. Her voice had been echoing into his mind, regardless of the mental distance he had kept her at she approached. Her signature in the force lite with excitement and joy, and he returned her warming embrace.

Comfortable with his re-confirmed sense of reality, they separated. He took in what she said quickly, reaching his feelings out beyond his own self. "Yes," he replied, confirming her sentiments as they both turned to the door, "She's right down the hall." As they left his room, there was a small locker nearby. Opening it, Larik was pleased to find his equipment as well as his fellow Jedi's. As Lutomi cautiously moved to the next cell, Larik took a quick moment to re-equip and dress himself.

Turning as Lutomi opened the door for Ione's door, he paused as he stepped forward. As if it would help, he turned his ear upward. There were no unusual sounds, but the echoes of the Dark Lord's presence reached him through the ripples of the Force. There would be trouble, and they would be facing it soon.

Hurrying after his once Padawan, the Jedi was ready to hand over the appropriate equipment to her once Padawan.

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

Sisk felt Rook's grip tighten around him, and felt his limbs snap tight and began to lift up off the floor. He reached into the force and let it flow through him, which would allow him to create a buffer between him and the surfaces of the room. As he slammed up and down he made the force create a cushion around him, leaving him shaken but not broken. Flying up towards the ceiling again he felt several of his grenades slip off his belt, flipping outwards towards Rook thanks to his velocity and direction. There was no way he'd be able to get them to Rook, but he didn't need to.

He did nothing but nudge them in the right direction as he started to hurtle towards the floor again, barely a glimmer in the Force as the grenades fell towards the ground halfway between them, the slight nudge of the force popping the pins that held the arming lever in place. The handles slipped from the grenades and caused the striker to hit the percussion cap. The grenades went off with a resounding boom, the sonic charges inside shaking the panels on the walls and causing the foam that covered the floor to resonate outwards in an expanding ring from the 4 explosions. Even with a helmet to muffle the sound the grenade explosion was incredibly loud and the heavy charge rattled him inside his armor. It was meant to be nothing more than a distraction. All he needed was a second free.

He hit the ground on bended knee and raised himself quickly, his rifle already coming up and sighting on the Wookiee, his crushgaunts whirring as they tightened on the grip.

 

[Clayton]

Rook snarled as the Mandalorian slowed somewhat, he did not hit the floor hard enough to break bones or knock him out. He thought he could resist him? Did Sisk think Rook so weak that he wouldn't be able to overcome his power? Pain bubbled from his wound in the background, feeding the anger that roared within like a dragon. His blood pounded in his head as he snapped into the fit of beserker rage inherent to his species. There was no halting him now, surrender would not be accepted, his only concern now was beating Sisk into a smear of blood and pulverized flesh inside his armor. Sisk may have slowed down the first slam, but next time, he would not be so lucky. Rook lifted Sisk into the air again, this time he would overpower the buffer. He wrenched on the widowed man and slammed him into the stone floor far faster than the first time, his strength withh the force being fed from his pain and rage. Sisk may have been a far superior marksman, but Rook's power with the force was greater than Sisk's, no defense he put up would fully protect him. Still, he wasn't expecting a broken bone, not yet. Stunned was the extremely likely result, unable to keep up the buffer for another hit.

The crack of metal on stone was drowned out by the sonic cracks of the four grenades. His eardrums pulsed sorely as the sonic wave reached him, he could feel the sound in his body, he could feel it as if he was at a concert where the bass thrummed from ludicrously tall speakers. Sisk was clever, in his normal state, Rook would have had respect for that, being able to think and act quickly in such a manner. Had Sisk been an acolyte in apprenticeship under Rook, such a move would have warranted some small praise. But now the explosions were of no concern to him, all that existed was blood and devastation.

The grenades were far enough away that they provided only a mild annoyance. His grip did slip, but not fully. He took advantage of Sisk hitting the ground harder than he would expect. Rook turned Sisk around so he wasn't facing Rook and consolidated his power around the only parts that truly mattered: Sisk's torso and arms. He could kick and look around wildly as much as he wanted, but raising a gun again was out of the question. With a twist of the force, Rook sent him hurtling headfirst at the ceiling like a human guided missile, he made sure to put enough speed and power into it that even if Sisk tried to shield himself again, his neck would snap upon contact with the ceiling. Even then after that contact he continued slamming Sisk between ceiling and floor. The only thought that crossed his mind besides beating Sisk into non-existence was puny Mandalore.

 

[Mistress]

Lutomi heard Sionann say, "There is emotion, and there is feeling. Embrace their passion like I have."

"Oh.. Sionann may be in need a little extra love...dire need." she announced to Larik.

Sionann had managed to bend the top of her cell door downward, and Lutomi finalized the chore through a pelting with the Force.

There they were all together finally. Lutomi immediately noticed Sionann's leg had been scarred. "Damn, dark magic!" she cursed between gritted teeth. "It's no wonder you can stand at all, old friend!" Lutomi grabbed hold of Sionann's arm to lend support. She immediately felt a tempest inside.

Lutomi turned to face Sionann and peer her in the eyes. "Look at me. Can you see into me?" She wasn't sure how Sionann truly faired by the looks of her. She thought Sionann to be shrouded by the weight of her sufferings. Lutomi wanted to help her heal as quickly as she could.

"I need you to focus and feel out for myself and Larik only. Don't think about this room. Don't think about out there. Don't think about the Force around you." Lutomi interlaced her fingers in Sionann's hand. "Let's hold on together, tightly. We got this, Sionann. No fear."

Knowing that darkness could be a factor to possibly draw the others into their own thoughts as it had herself, Lutomi generated an orb of light and sent it overhead to illuminate the hall.

The walls seemed to siphone the light, instead of illuminating any shape to any of this underground abyss. "Alright I can lead us out. If you will sprint with me...maybe a little Force Speed? I know the schematics. I can tell you when to turn. If necessary, we can carry you Sionann."

 

[Emerald Iris]

Light...bright light, that was what the new feeling was when the large door screamed aside from its position as an outside force helped her. It was trying to get her out as much as she wanted to get out, get out and embrace the freedom of feeling. The person on the other side of the door was familiar, a woman? Who was this? She saw her before, didn't she? The silver haired knight could place a face, not name, not a name to the one of the few Jedi that she knew personally, and personally knew her.

"I know your face," Sionann lurched forward, being drawn to the warmth of the Jedi Master before her. "It's so beautiful, bright, full of light and life, I know your face. She didn't understand Lutomi's follow up as clouded azure eyes met the clearer light blue ones. "I can see it all now, I can see everything around me, everything within and without, and it is beautiful, it feels wonderful, everything."

Indeed there was a shroud within Sionann, filled with all the passions known good and bad, a darkness trying to snuff out the light. Lutomi could feel that tempest, a maelstrom that was warring against itself, warring against a bright center that was trying to break out. The Jedi Master's hand laced with the silver-haired knight's and instantly it could be felt. Sionann wasn't weighed down, on the contrary, she was probably more powerful than she had ever been before, but it was unstable. This raw power in the Force was wild, passionate, barely controllable, and now Lutomi was feeling it with direct contact. It would scream into her body like a bolt of lightning setting her senses to new heights that would prove exceptionally difficult to deal with. Vision would become sharp, hearing, vastly greater, smell, that much stronger, taste, more defined, and touch, exceptionally sensitive. It was an uncontrollable heightening that would not help, but rather hinder so long as Lutomi had contact with Sionann.

"Feeling is everything, She laughed a little bit with that very unsettling tone that remind everyone she was rather unhinged. "If we are to be afraid, then we are afraid, feel it all, fear, pain, joy, love, all of it. Ride it like an endless wave."


Sionann looked around on the hallways, peering through the darkness with her extreme sensitivity, seeing the dull cold walls and dim lighting. It was a place where there was no more to feel, it didn't change, there was nothing here anymore. Lutomi's hand though, it felt like she had touched a drop of pure sunlight, so warm and bright, it was truly wonderful, and was right now the focus of the majority of the Knight's attention. "I want to feel more of this," Her fingers tightened around Lutomi's hand, looking around and back at the Jedi Master. "This place does nothing now that the person who had awoken me is not here. It is trying to suck out my feeling, I don't want that, please don't let them take it." Her eyes were pathetically pleading at this point, a far cry from the stoic sage knight that Lutomi knew so well. She hadn't even acknowledged Larik's presence at this point. It was clear that Sionann might as well have been an oversized thermal detonator, there was no telling what she was going to do, or who was truly in danger.

 

[TAC]

As Sionann excited her room, seemingly in a trance, Larik was barely paying attention. The Jedi Master realized how exceedingly tired he was, his bones aching to his core and his body dragging. In fact, he realized he had been wanting to take a nap all day. Looking down, Larik stomped his feet. This was as good a place as any to take a quick nap, in his opinion. In fact, the floor resembled something of a bed, and he realized Sionann's robes would undoubtedly make an extremely comfortable pillow.

"Feeling is everything," came Sionann's voice. Larik froze where he was, half way down the ground. There was something wrong with that statement, the Jedi had a feeling deep within him. It was out of place, lost in a sea of thoughts and emotions that weren't hers. "You're on Zigoola, Larik," a voice echoed in his mind. He was pretty sure it was the voice of Jedi Master Larik Novan. "Geist Weiss's fortress is convoluting your thoughts. Find your strength, Larik, break free of these constraints."

Shaking his head, the Jedi Master shook free the walls the fortress had built around his mind. He let out a roar, the Force swirling around him a tempest of his own, and he grabbed the arm of Jedi Knight Ione. Where she had felt a tempest before, more powerful winds would blow through her subconscious; where before she had felt a ray of sunshine at Lutomi's touch, it would be as if she had gone to the center of a star instead. Clearing the channels to the Force that were convoluted by the mind tricks of this place, Larik brought her out of her confusion disarray.

"It's time to go," the Jedi Master said to Sionann, smiling. Nodding to Lutomi, he indicated for her to lead the way.

 

[Clayton]

OOC: posting as per the rules

The sound of Sisk's head slamming into the ceiling at high speed was quite enjoyable. It was a loud, metallic crack and the whole body shuddered. Then Sisk was zooming down again and his legs crumpled beneath him in a splintering crash. The sound to anyone else would be sickening as they heard what damage was done to the body. To Rook, it was satisfying, hearing Sisk get pummeled mercilessly. Up again went the Manalorian and he slammed into the ceiling once more.

By now Sisk was, save some sort of miracle, most certainly dead. And if he somehow was not dead, he would be unconscious or in too much pain to even think or lift a pebble with the force. It was almost enough to leave the body be, but here in Geist's palace, one of the Dark Lord's rules came to mind: Confirm death. A piece of broken duracrete with rebar sticking out from the broken door frame lay a few meters from Sisk's original position. With a snapping command to the force, Rook sent Sisk crashing down on top of it, the jagged piece of metal would stab straight into Sisk's face, now unprotected by the broken visor.

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

As the grenades exploded Sisk gathered all of his hate, all of his rage at the monster across from him and let it pour through him. This monster had ripped away his family, his lovem his everything. He had helped kill his people, and Sisk would not allow it to end so ingloriously. ”No.” It was a familiar place, a comfortable place, one that he had been to before, when he had ripped the Sith molecule-from-molecule many years before. He pushed outwards with all his strength and felt the force grip slip away from him as Rook went to slam him into the ceiling. He hit it hard, but Rook was already trying to slam him down again and the push had rotated his body to a slight angle so he took it on his left shoulder and side of his head rather than a neck breaking crunch. Rook’s grip sped away from him as Sisk began to fall. The bruise was instant and painful, but Sisk could fight through it. He’d had worse. After his hand and eye had been taken from him he had still been able to fight.
He fell towards the floor, but the steely-eyed warrior had already been in motion from the second he had had pushed the force grip away. He blink clicked the missiles on his back and forearm to life, sending the mini cluster missile and the large concussion missile on his back hurtling towards the Sith. 7 missiles, all on different paths. Just one was enough to end this sith for good. Even if he could catch them all he couldn’t stop the concussive force within from reaching him. When they exploded at their target they ripped the flesh away from the Sith’s upper body and face, ripping the ligaments in his good arm and leaving it helpless while it exacerbated the injuries to his already wounded arm.. The flesh seared away leaving the bone underneath exposed. The concussion would pulp internal organs, and perhaps even cause the nervous system to fail. Sisk’s jetpack roared to life and he hit the ground hard, feeling his ankle twist, but his rifle was already raised and spitting 24 plasma coated slugs of death towards the huge target at the end of the foyer. Even if Rook somehow survived he would be in so much pain that he wouldn’t be able to concentrate and the bullets would finish the job.