Ask Nemesis Games

[Leh'Min'Ayd]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Sabers. Not words. Quin had failed his lesson. He would be punished for this. A weapon was trained with, honed, sharpened at its edge, but in the end every weapon faced punishment. A lemon learned this. So did Nemesis.

Taking the moment of inaction to focus on every muscle in her body, every strand of tissue, every cell and molecule permitted, the Weapon braced herself. Already in position, blades at the ready, she waited for her opponent to stop speaking, then the purple-skinned Togruta took her leap.

Soresu. Makashi. Jar’Kai. One form before or after the other in this storm of swords. Form IV, Ataru, was the Way of the Hawk-Bat. And Nemesis had two blades for fangs to penetrate her prey with. To slay her opponent.

She didn’t run. She wasn’t that distant, having only staggered backward. Instead, she sprung upward in an instant, jumping and flying toward Quin to attack him from an overhead position. Her sabers whirred as Nemesis brought them downward.

Her left saber, in its reverse grip, swung to cut Quin in his left shoulder. Quin would probably respond by blocking her blade with his own. If he did, Nemesis would use her reverse grip to her advantage, pushing against the blade for leverage.

If he stepped to his right or left to evade the downward slash, Nemesis would twist her wrist in either direction to catch the other shoulder or his head. Failing that, he had another weapon to contend with as it is.

If uninterrupted, Nemesis would come out of her flip to land behind Quin. While still falling and reorienting, she attacked as she landed, facing her opponent’s back.

The Weapon swung her right saber overhanded, slashing diagonally downward from Quin’s right shoulder to his left hip.

@Sicadorito (@Quin Leonkri)

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

Cheriss had to take a step or two backwards as she got back up in order to avoid Vayla’s lightsaber. It didn’t hinder her attack, though that one soon missed too.

Ending up face to face again as her opponent pivoted, Cheriss knew she had to change strategies. As the Jedi’s blade came up from on top of her right arm, Cheriss stopped her attack and pulled her sword arm back. At the same time, she took a step back with her right leg, allowing the blades to stop each other instead by angling her wrist to her right.

She felt resistance to her Force pull as Vayla pulled right back, and seeing as that would result in a stalemate or worse, Cheriss switched to sending another quick bolt of electricity at her torso instead. If Vayla continued to pull, the lightning would only reach her faster.

That would leave her left hand free, and she put it behind her back again to prepare for her opponent’s next move.

@Die Shize

 

[Vayla Mirana]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Her opponent stepped back, both blades clashed and lightning from Cheriss’ hand caught Vayla’s eye. The Jedi immediately withdrew her blade from the Sith’s and swung in it in the direction of the lightning to absorb it into her sword as before.

If her opponent was waiting for Vayla to attack the next moment then she would not wait long. Once the lightning vanished into thin air like Cheriss’ sizzled hair, the Jedi Knight, Quin’s Master Mirror, mirrored her opponent’s preference, being equally taken to Makashi.

She began in a stance with her hilt in her right hand pointing down at the ground. Vayla lifted her weapon to her face, blade to the ceiling, as if saluting her opponent, though it certainly was no attempt at a feint.

From this position, Vayla simply swung her saber diagonally downward to slash across Cheriss’ left shoulder to her right hip. It was a quick attack, nothing fancy, but in reality there was nothing elegant about the countenance of this Sith.

@Sicadorito (@Cheriss Ktrame)

 

[Quin Leonkri]

Lemon’s jump had forced him back, and her reverse grip had proven effective in preventing him from going anywhere in order to block the blow to his left shoulder. To prevent her right saber from potentially hitting him, he would extend his left hand in a Force push to ensure the blade was nowhere near him as she passed over his head. Once she landed, he turned around to face her again.

She was practically on him again as soon as he did, with her right blade now going from his left to right. Quin lifted his saber to block again, intercepting hers midway through the slice. Should she add on her left too, he would shift both hands to his hilt to hold her off. If not, he would aim a brief but powerful Force push at the center of her chest with his left hand to push her away.

At this point he could feel his arms starting to tire from blocking so much, but he couldn’t bring himself to go on the offensive. Even if Lemon had forgotten everything and was Nemesis more than herself, she was still Lemon to him. Unlike her, Quin would never forget. So he stood, internally devastated and tired, but still intent on keeping himself alive.

@Die Shize

 

[Leh'Min'Ayd]

It was a dangerous game to play when it came to swords and the Force. As much as one could pull someone’s whole body they could instead tug on a single limb as Quin did with Nemesis. Airborne, her left sword missed its target, not due to an interception by another weapon, but because the Force had pushed the sword off course.

Coming into her landing, Nemesis swung her right sword as intended. However, her left hand had been free to use the moment her opponent had nudged it. Thus, as she descended, she used her left hand and the Force to ensure Quin’s sword would be jerked to his right the moment he swung it into Nemesis’ sword.

That meant that instead of her blade clashing with his blade it would connect with his forearm and cleave through it. At that moment his left hand opened and, her left hand occupied, the Jedi succeeded in pushing the Weapon backward, this time the power in his push sending his target sliding across the floor.

She would not hesitate to stand up straight and, for the first time, he might notice it in her eyes. Violence. Fire. Violet. Her lips would quiver, as if to cry, yet her eyes would not water. In an ocean so empty, finally her opponent would glimpse emotion.

Not sadness.

Fury

@Sicadorito (@Quin Leonkri)

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

Cheriss’ lightning was absorbed by Vayla’s blade instead, but that was no matter. It was meant to be a distraction and in that manner it had succeeded, giving Cheriss a second or two to collect herself and face her opponent again. Although, that did mean giving the Jedi some time as well.

As Vayla changed into a Makashi stance, Cheriss would mirror Master Mirror in her movements. With her lightsaber similarly pointed to the ceiling, Cheriss waited for Vayla to attack her again. This time it was in the form of a simple diagonal swing that aimed at Cheriss’ left shoulder. The Sith turned her wrist downwards, blocking the blow as she took a step back with her left foot.

However, she would quickly change to the offensive again as she brought her right leg up and around for a kick to Vayla’s stomach. To keep her leg covered, Cheriss pulled her arm back to have her saber closer to her, allowing for slightly quicker reactions for when Vayla attempted to strike her again.

@Die Shize

 

[Vayla Mirana]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Maybe it was the effect that this room was having on her and, if she felt it, potentially others did too. Some unknown element. Some unfocused essence. This feeling of aggression, of a need for conflict, to get violent, whether it mirrored whatever had taken that young woman, Leh’Min’Ayd, in a twisted transformation.

Whatever had mutated her from a girl who slept to a song so lost to this weapon, to Project Nemesis, who had so painfully mistaken Quin for her opponent, for her enemy. That was its own tragedy, as devastating as raising an undead army in its own way.

Or maybe Vayla would enjoy this anyway without needing to be a champion for the darkness. The art of the blade was a Shadow’s way of staying sane. Yet Vayla kept her blade pressed against her Cheriss’ blade, activating her left hand instead.

As the Sith kicked toward her stomach, the Jedi dipped and flipped her fingers. Force would wrap around Cheriss’ right leg and lift it in an instant, breaking her target with Vayla’s stomach before lifting the leg further upward. Eventually Cheriss might fall backward and, combined with her own momentum, finally land on her ass.

@Sicadorito (@Cheriss Ktrame)

 

[Quin Leonkri]

Quin felt a violent tug on his right arm as Lemon swung her right blade at him. Realizing that his arm would be exposed, he took a step to the right to follow the movement of his arm, turning his torso to the left so that Lemon’s blade would cut down into the air in front of him instead.

As Lemon slid away from him, he gripped his lightsaber again with both hands. His left foot, placed in front of his right, angled toward Lemon as he held his blade up parallel to the ground. Looking at her face again, Quin saw her lips tremble.

Did she remember? Was she back?

He lowered his blade just a little. He thought he saw anger, but he wouldn’t believe it. It had to be grief, he convinced himself. Regret. Sadness. It couldn’t be fury. Lemon wasn’t a Sith.

“Lemon?” Even if he knew he was making a mistake, he couldn’t bring himself to admit it.

@Die Shize

 

[Leh'Min'Ayd]

Spoiler: A Song So Long

A song...
So long...

Frustrating. She could accept her left fang having missed its target. Didn’t get it. Quin wasn’t bitten. He used the Force to shift Nemesis’ weapon off course. It happened.

She attempted the same tactic on him, caught him step to her left, then she could step with him and watch her sword connect with flesh and bone of forearm.

Or maybe step ahead, past his arm and into his guard, and follow through with her blade’s original target, hips and shoulder, as intended, only closer, through Quin, to sever him in two in an instant.

Only it didn’t happen because, unfortunately for her, unfortunately for her master, her opponent was a coward. He infuriated her. He denied the Weapon its practice by pushing her backward yet again.

Nemesis just couldn’t comprehend this. Couldn’t understand it. She had a weapon. He had a weapon. Yet he kept trying to keep his distance. For what purpose? It wasn’t simply Soresu he was using. This was different.

Soresu was a defensive lightsaber form, Nemesis knew, Form III, the Way of the Mynock. Jedi like Obi-Wan if not Qui-Gon were masters of it before they were ever masters. But this Jedi before this Weapon, with his little green sword, was no master. He was a coward.

Yes. Both him and his little green friend. He wasn't Obi-Wan. He was not Qui-Gon. He was pathetic. He wasn’t on the defensive. She could sense it.

He was on sentiments. So focused on hope. On emotions. Memories. He just couldn’t see that the person before him, with her purple swords, was no longer his little purple friend. His Lemonade had a new name.

Nemesis

She would make sure he wouldn’t forget it for her master.

“Lemon’s dead.”

Her lips were rigid and did not quiver any longer. Yet her gaze was as violent as her vibrant blade.

“I killed her.”

She spoke so emotionlessly yet, as she spoke, even a Weapon with no choice knows a lonely voice.

A lonely, lonely voice.

“Yet at least she died with dignity.”

Nemesis stood motionless yet not so frozen, not so defenseless. She shifted her left weapon forward, reverse grip, blade leftward past her hip; right weapon upward, overhand grip, blade forward above her head.

“You, however, will die on your knees.”

She promised, a corner of her lips tugging upward, turning into a grin.

Nemesis. Weapon. Jedi? Sith? Emotions? Emotionless?

Maybe…something…

In. Between.

When, at the end, everything will be nothing, and everyone will be No One.

Taunting. The idea that a weapon, a lightsaber, could ever have emotions.

"And become nothing. No One."

Haunting. The idea that Nemesis, Weapon, once had a name: Leh'Min'Ayd.

"Like your little Lemon."

@Sicadorito (@Quin Leonkri)

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

To the Sith, the Force was not an ally but a tool. It was meant to be bent to one’s will, not to be a guide. So, as soon as Cheriss felt it start to pull her right leg higher, she would gather the energy in her left foot to propel herself up into the air. From there, she tucked her left arm and transitioned into a jumping roundhouse kick, using gravity and a bit of the Force, if necessary, to twist to her left and to bring her right leg down toward Vayla’s left shoulder.

While in the air, Cheriss would also rotate her lightsaber into a reverse grip. The blade whirred as it followed her kick in a similar downward arc. If uninterrupted, she would land a bit to Vayla’s right, repositioning her hilt so that it was once more in a forward grip in front of her.

Red against blue, it was a sight indeed. A duel to be remembered, but yet it was still not Cheriss’ intention. That man was escaping, and if they didn’t wrap this up soon, he might get away. He might already have. She could only hope that she would be able to reach him in time.

@Die Shize

 

[Vayla Mirana]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Holding Cheriss’ left leg with her left hand through the Force, the Shadow intended to further explore that door. While her enemy deftly transitioned the grip into a roundhouse kick, along with her downward arcing saber, Vayla had never let go of that left leg.

As the Sith’s attacks came, Vayla suddenly thrust the Force forward into Cheriss’ left leg with her right hand, having already had the leg in her left hand’s grip. She didn't swing her saber but held it with enough fingers. The impact of this action could potentially shatter the bone in Cheriss' knee.

If it didn’t, it would still be strong enough to send Cheriss flying away from Vayla either way, as Vayla’s left hand would just as abruptly let go once her right hand had punched with the Force rather than the sword. This would in turn interrupt both of the Sith’s attacks on the Jedi as Cheriss flies.

Failing this, if the Sith only stumbled from the connection, the Jedi would transition her right-handed saber upward, angled to intercept both Cheriss’ right leg and her own blade swinging in the same direction before either would reach her left shoulder.

@Sicadorito (@Cheriss Ktrame)

 

[Quin Leonkri]

Maybe Quin was a coward. Maybe it was something in him that refused to fight despite the room almost telling him to. Some small part of him did want to fight, to put an end to this, the part of him that believed what this girl was saying was true.

That Lemon was dead. That she had killed him.

He didn’t believe that, though. There was no way that Lemon was dead. She was standing here, right in front of him. She just didn’t know it. But he did. Even if Nemesis was nothing like Lemon in the manner that she spoke or acted, Quin knew that the real Lemon was trapped somewhere deep inside. That Lemon, the real Leh’Min’Ayd, was a fighter. Not a killer, not a Weapon, but a girl who knew how to survive.

Quin knew that she was fighting right now. If he was a coward, she for sure was not. He swallowed as he remembered how she had— on Sonos, on Thila.

“You’re wrong.” Quin looked into Nemesis’ eyes. “Lemon isn’t dead. I won’t believe it.” Even if his instincts were screaming against him, he lowered his lightsaber.

“You’re still Lemon, whether you like it or not.” He turned off his blade, putting it back onto his belt. Looking back up at the Togruta, his voice was quieter now.

“I’m not fighting you. I won’t.” Quin felt like something was lodged in his throat again, but his voice never shook. “You can kill me if you like. But I won’t hurt you.”

He blinked, looking at the floor before he met Lemon’s gaze again, his eyes glistening.

“I love you.”

@Die Shize

 

[Leh'Min'Ayd]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Maybe it was Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon. Yes. Even a Weapon knew a girl’s past. After all, memories were in the blade, on its edge, in the heat of the moment that was captured for eternity. Burning if frozen like the energy in a lightsaber’s blade.

Maybe it was Master Kenobi or Master Jinn who had influenced that girl named Leh’Min’Ayd before a girl became a weapon and Weapon became Nemesis. She sensed no shame in their mention or in giving praise to such names, for those Jedi existed, were still living in a way; in the Living Force, in legends.

Yet, what did a weapon know about any of this? In the end, it was just nonsense. She might strike the pose of Ahsoka Tano but she was not even a Togruta anymore. She was a sword. It didn’t matter who a girl’s heroes were. She was her own villain. Not a lemon. A weapon.

Nemesis

“You’re wrong.”

Oh if only she was though. If only the weapon wasn’t right and she might still be a Jedi like Quin and come back to him as his Leh’Min.

“Lemon isn’t dead. I won’t believe it.”

Stupid kid.

“You’re still Lemon, whether you like it or not.”

Lemon’s dead.

“I’m not fighting you. I won’t.”

Coward’s death.

“You can kill me if you like. But I won’t hurt you.”

Kill. Hurt.

If Quin quits then he is an idiot like his Lemon always said to him.

Kill. Her.

There was only one way out of this situation and that was with his weapon.
Yet he had just deactivated it and surrendered. He was no worthy opponent.

Sith… A weapon was trained to fight them.
Jedi… A weapon was trained to fight them.

The upside down.
The right side up.
As the In Between.
Her circle so round.

But what would happen if the weapon actually had emotions?
Lightsabers burned. But her heart burned worse that moment.

“I love you.”

Her eyes close.

No.

“I love you,” he said.

“I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!” she said.

NO.

Looking at her now as then, eyes into eyes, even from this distance. No lightsaber in his grip, at least not one with that little green light, but her own purple ones are still up, as her grip tightens like her rigid lips.

And a weapon opens its eyes!

“No.” Nemesis declared. Firm as a dead purple bird.
“You.” A weapon twirled her swords with a flourish.
“Dont.” Right blade pointed her opponent’s way.
“Sorry.” Left blade at her own throat. “Leonkri.”

Amid that violet light, Quin might just make out violent eyes.

“A weapon that cannot hit cannot be allowed to live.”

When life gives you lemons
Make lemonade for Leh’Min’Ayd
A girl is a blade, a bladed weapon
Stranger things bring strange tidings

“Either you attack this weapon or I end its existence.”

Was this deception? Some trick? How far did Quin Leonkri wish to test the limits of Nemesis when it came to his precious Leh’Min’Ayd?

“Come get your little lemon.”

Nemesis grinned.

Rage—

​

@Sicadorito (@Quin Leonkri)

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

As Cheriss came down toward Vayla, she suddenly felt a pressure on her left leg. She wasn’t given much time to react before she was flung away from the Jedi, an additional push from Vayla’s right hand causing her to fly even farther from her enemy.

Fortunately, she didn’t crash into a wall. Unfortunately, she crashed into the back of a Jedi knight instead— the boy.

“Lemon, listen to— oof!” Quin Leonkri staggered forward as Cheriss hit him, and in the second he was distracted the Sith got back up to her feet, grabbed the hair at the back of the boy’s head with her left hand, and twisted him around so that his back was facing her. Her blade was now just in front of his neck so that even if he moved the slightest bit, her saber would be cutting into it.

Cheriss took a step to the side so that she could clearly see both Vayla and the Togruta in her field of vision.

“One move from either of you,” she warned, “and this one loses his head.”

@Die Shize

 

[Vayla Mirana]

Spoiler: Music OOC

This whole time, though she was of one mind, both Shadow and Knight, a soldier of the light, the warrior within her could not deny the lure to this fight.

There was more to this chamber at work than the chamber within it. More than weapons or Weapon. More than Nemesis. There was a power here and there was no denying it. Fear. Violence. Surely Vayla wasn't the only one affected?

The Force stretched through the furthest edges of time and space, crept across the corners, permeated the room, moved with purpose.

It was heavy, like the thick air of a dense forest, close and not so open. It tugged at the spirit of Vayla Mirana like whatever must have been dragging on the Togruta once named Leh’Min’Ayd.

Whoever she was, that girl, that woman, they both had the same master. That much was as plain as day.

There was a fire within this Pantoran. Maybe ever since the day she had met him, Cyrus Orion. Yet she contained it. Kept it hidden. That potential for her soul to fall as any Jedi’s might. That path into darkness.

At that moment, however, in this chamber, the fire began to surface. Maybe because of manipulated threads of the Force, maybe something had opened the door for aggression as much as Lemon had made two lightsabers swing for one another. Crystals? Lattices? No time to know what device or weapon. Not yet.

Whatever it was, Vayla suddenly did not want to listen to her opponent. That was the moment Cheriss had touched Quin. With her lightsaber hovering right beside his neck. Yet the Shadow had to keep silent and hidden.

Her wrath would not be loud. It would not be unbridled. She was no Sith. She was Jedi. So, in response to this Sith taking her Jedi hostage, her blade at his throat, the Shadow simply spread her arms in indication of compliance.

“There is no need for this.”

The Jedi’s lips were rigid, though the Shadow knew she was dealing with a Sith.

So, subtly, lightsaber in her right hand, Vayla's left hand didn’t even flinch its fingers, but it was a weapon to contend with in a focus Cheriss wouldn't notice.

It was Quin who would know it even before Cheriss.

Quin! When I say, use the Force to push her arm away. I will pull her sword. You will escape.

They would both only need a moment for what the Shadow would then show her opponent.

Vayla would not hesitate but she would wait. While Cheriss had made a mistake with her current position in this debate, the benefit of doubt was permitted. The Knight would not jeopardize Quin’s life if this Sith might actually be reasoned with.

“No death. Not here. Not yet. Not when we share a common enemy.”

The words just came blurting from the Pantoran’s lips suddenly.

Is that not what you are, Master, whoever you were? An enemy of Jedi? Of Sith? Of the entire galaxy?

“Cyrus Orion.”

Vayla Mirana looked from Cheriss to Quin to...Nemesis...who once looked like a kid, not so broken, not some featherless purple peacock, not so lost or forgotten.

What have you done to her, Master?

"My master."

Rage—

@Sicadorito (@Cheriss Ktrame | @Quin Leonkri)

 

[Quin Leonkri]

Lemon’s eyes closed. Quin’s heart fluttered in hope. There was a chance that she was listening. Maybe if he could get closer, if he could hold her in his arms again, she would remember. He took a step toward her.

That was when her eyes opened, and everything happened so fast Quin could scarcely believe it. The moment he saw her sword against her throat, the Jedi froze. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

“Lemon, please!” He dared not move anymore, and he stretched out a hand as if to pull the blade away from her. “Lemon, listen to— oof!” Something hard barreled into his back, sending him staggering forward. Before he knew it, Quin felt something else grab his hair and pull his head back, hard, until all he could see, feel, and hear was the humming crimson red blade underneath his chin.

The Sith said something that his mind didn’t process, but still all he could do was try to look at Lemon. She couldn’t go through with it— not now. Not when he was held hostage— he couldn’t fight even if he’d wanted to. His thoughts raced. Maybe it was a good thing that this Sith was holding him. Maybe it would buy him, and Lemon, some more time before she pressed that blade into her own throat. He had an excuse to delay her now.

Then he heard Master Mirror’s voice in his mind. She told him to push the Sith’s arm away. That she would help him. But he couldn’t do that. If he got free and refused to fight her again, then Lemon would…

“Oh! Are you finally starting to see sense?” The Sith’s voice broke Quin out of his thoughts. His eyes flicked over to Vayla, and he saw her standing with her blade at her side. Don’t do it, Master. His eyes were pleading. He couldn’t face Lemon like that again. He closed his eyes.

“I will let him go if you step out of my way and let me pursue Cyrus Orion.” No! Quin didn’t want any deal unless that deal meant Lemon would lower her blade. Kriff the Sith for being so cooperative. Lemon…

@Die Shize

 

[Leh'Min'Ayd]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Blade up. Pointed at her opponent. Other blade up. Placed over her own throat. Ready to claim her own life in a moment. To return her spirit to the universe. Her existence was always at the mercy of her master anyway.

To a student, a weapon, like Nemesis, what was the difference between the universe and her master? What was a mother to a master for that matter?

Just then, something hit Quin. No, someone crashed into him. This wasn’t predicted. Was it supposed to happen? Who was asking? Nemesis? Or the memory of Leh’Min’Ayd? The ghost of a girl unbidden. Not so organic.

The Weapon was distracted, unfocused, stuck in the past, in the present.

She blinks but she can’t blink out of it.

She blinked as Quin got surrounded.

By Cheriss, not by Nemesis.

The Sith had him in her grip, her crimson blade at Quin’s throat, in some twisted way mirroring Nemesis’ own.

The Sith spoke, but the Weapon wasn’t listening.

All she saw was purple.
Yet all she saw was red.

All she saw was the girl.
Yet also her best friend.

…Remember…

It was the voice in her head.
Alone. A lonely, lonely voice.
She heard it. Now and then.
Her master. Light. And void.

Memories may bleed like seas.
She looks at Quin. He was silly.
To let the Sith actually take him.
Like Nemesis would take this Sith.

The Weapon remembered...a street...a village...a city...a town maybe...and a mountain...its peak...a factory...of power...

But suddenly all the inhabitants of that town, taken to that factory to be murdered and maimed and mutilated in ways the Lemonade had wished she had never seen, were back in that street, in a nice and neat arrangement of bodies from a massacre.

Only it wasn't Thur Rashnik or Kayden Skyler standing over their handiwork.

It was her.

Roaring forth in a fire that had simply been lurking, sleeping, underneath her surface.

As memories pass like ripples in a river, seconds become minutes in the mind of a lemon, as the pain in Quin Leonkri’s face behind the Scarlet Harlot’s blade begins to take other shapes within the brain of a Togruta once named Leh’Min’Ayd.

Painless shapes. Funny shapes. Happy shapes. Happy faces. Laughing face. Cute faces. Gentle faces. Not painful faces.

Like when walking through a forest and promptly slapping her wet sock upon Mr. Wetsocks.
Gatalentan tea in a cafe.
The first time the Lin had ever publicly agreed with the Lemon.
The first time Leh'Min'Ayd had convulsed and the first time Quin had convulsed.

Painful. Memorable. Pleasurable.

Emotional

But this one wasn’t Quin. This isn’t Quin. It wasn’t him. The Quin Nemesis knew didn’t cry like this. He didn’t look at his little lemon with such dread, such sorrow, such utter torment, as if that Sith’s blade were slowly burning away his throat, like tears of acid to make him choke.

Tears in the rain wash away the haunted lemonade.

No. Nemesis wouldn’t listen to this voice. This was her voice. This was her void. There wasn’t enough room for two voices. Any other voices were just noises.

A girl is a girl is a stupid girl.

The Lin Leh’Min’Ayd knew didn’t cry like this so he was stupid too.

Miss Sith Bitch was stupid too for having Lin Queonkri in her heartless harlot’s grip.

“I will let him go if you step out of my way and let me pursue Cyrus Orion.”

"You do not have my master's permission share his presence," said Nemesis.

"So..."

A song so lost on Sonos...

“LET.”
Nemesis flicked her left wrist away from her throat and toward her opponent.
“HIM.”
A weapon in her right grip also dipped in a flourish; violet, violent and vibrant.
“GO.”
Cheriss the Idiot should really do so. A girl can make both lights twirl and whirl.

Nemesis, on the other hand, is only just getting a weapon's practice with all this.
Soresu? Makashi? Ataru? Quin was the first Jedi opponent she'd ever tried it on.
The first leap the hawk-bat had taken, the first time her lightsabers screeched.
Jar'Kai. First time. She would experiment again. As Nemesis. As she is a weapon.

Only her opponent wasn't supposed to be Cheriss the Simpleton.
And the Weapon had more than two weapons for her opponent.
Only Cheriss wouldn't notice Nemesis focus on more than hilts.
The In Between had stranger things with which to hurt and kill.

Remember her...
...Leh'Min'Ayd...

But it wasn't a girl's voice.
It was the voice of Master.

"You. Sith. BITCH."

Kill the girl.
Kill the boy.

"Or I go through him to get to you."

There was no longer emotion in her gaze, for she wasn't purple lemonade.

Rage—

@Sicadorito (@Cheriss Ktrame | @Quin Leonkri)

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

“There is no need for this.”

Oh, but there is. Cheriss’ expression was just as rigid as the Jedi’s, and she gripped the boy’s hair tighter as his master continued on. She spoke of their common enemy, Cyrus Orion. Maybe it was possible to reason with her after all, the Sith mused.

“Oh! Are you finally starting to see sense? I will let him go if you step out of my way and let me pursue Cyrus Orion.” It wasn’t as if Cheriss wanted to hold on to this boy’s sweaty head anyway. The Jedi were a nuisance, but she had no real quarrel with them at the moment.

It was the girl who presented a problem with her flawed logic. Cheriss had never sought her master’s permission to share his presence, nor did she intend to. If the girl who claimed to love this boy wanted the Sith to let go of him, that was not the answer she wanted to hear. Especially not after she was called a bitch. Leh’Min’Ayd flexed her blades, but Cheriss didn’t move a muscle.

“Suit yourself, darling.” If lover girl was willing to sacrifice Quin Leonkri to get to her, it was of no consequence to the Sith. Instead, she looked at Vayla, who might have something more to lose.

“This boy means nothing to me, Mirana. Whether he lives or dies is… how should I put it? Irrelevant.” Cheriss shifted her blade up toward his chin. “It’s up to you. Tell the girl to stand down and let me after her— your master, or he will face the consequences.”

It would be the same to her anyway.

@Die Shize

 

[Cul Laaster]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Where once this room was dim, light illuminated it, bathed its shadows in the glow of red, blue, green and purple. The light moved right side up, upside down, in between, in circles, circles so round.

And loud when they clashed. Light like lightning. Lightsabers. They whirred and curved, and burned when they crashed into one another.

Like Jedi. Like Sith. Like whatever ‘she’ is… Cul Laaster had no idea what she was besides a Togruta once. The Pyke didn’t know much about lightsabers or either colorful alignments, and could only attest that Mace Windu had a purple lightsaber like this kid did.

Beyond that, the Pyke left the rest to them. While the Jedi and the Sith and their Nemesis danced, distracted, that kept attention off of him, let the Pyke take care of business, not with lightsabers but on the computer.

Cul Laaster kept his head down, in more ways than one, eyes glued to the computer screen. He had taken the time and opportunity to dive deeper into the machine, using the expertise in him and the equipment with him.

From corporations like XiCorp and Valt Ventures, corporate sponsors, to the corporation behind Spero Station, a bioresearch company named Pavillion. Kept quiet. No Fortune 500. But the ones running, if not owning, this station.

Pavillion had a managing director as much as XiCorp had a chief executive officer, but what came up onscreen for Cul wasn’t the history of Pavillion. He was less interested in who headed the snake than what was hidden in its brain.

The Pyke found a list of names. A list of projects. Each one headed ultimately by the head of research and development, High Researcher Qybert Droco, a male Human, doctor, scientist and whatever else he styled in for the public besides ‘mad doctor’, ‘mad scientist’.

Not that Laaster was complaining. However, it complicated matters that the man he needed for so many questions, the man who wasn’t Pavillion’s head but one of its department heads, wasn’t the man who had taken the elevator in that other chamber, wasn’t Cyrus Orion, but one more person this Pyke must find in this crazy maze.

Not yet. I have time. So a Pyke’s eyes glowed violet and wide. Qybert kept logs, kept notes, such as those on ‘projects’. On ‘weapons’. Such as Project Nemesis: Codename Lemonade. Once a child. Now a weapon. Project Chaos: Codename Blacktear. Ensure the eyepatch is not lifted; he doesn’t like it. The Pyke liked that line.

There were other projects. Projects to create weapons. Only the weapons were organic, were alive, dead, undead, maybe in between in some way. Bioweapons. Biomutants. Some who appear to be normal and alive on the surface, just another purple Togruta, but who beneath are as dead as victims of AMS.

That’s what Pavillion is doing. That’s why the Pyke’s spice was being funneled into this facility. Why the Daggers, his biggest bulk buyer, were evidently the ones distributing it. Yet it wasn’t just research for the purpose of research. It wasn’t mindless science.

There were other corporations, like XiCorp and Valt Ventures, affiliated with it. Buyers? Sellers? Laaster wasn’t certain of the connection yet as he surfed and searched. One project after another.

Project Fear: Codename Redsun. An image of a man with dark skin and black gold eyes.
Project Enforce: Codename Gungrave. Of a woman with pale skin and bright blue eyes.
Project Fire. Project Ice. Some completed or in progress. Active. Inactive. Abandoned.
Project Hunter. Project Soldier. A number he had no time at this moment so as to spy.

Hybrids. Killiks. AMS subjects. My goodness...

Some were only just being theorized while others were emails like 'IT ISN'T GREY JEDI'

Yet there was one project in particular that caught Cul Laaster’s eye because he was already looking for it.

The very same experiment he had witnessed behind the glass after the Killik.

Project Tyrant: Codename Mountain

An image of a man with light skin and grey eyes.

That was different. It was because that’s what Mountain looked like before he became Tyrant. Cul looked further and discovered the transitions from the beginning of the experiment, in between and to its conclusion. From what was once a man to what was now a…weapon.

Tuncan Moreau, his name once was. A knight, if a murderer before he ever became a Sith Marauder and a Sith Champion in turn. He chose to reject the Empire following the separation from the Sith Order. He became something of a warlord.

A Human who settled down on a planet where nobody might think to find him given it was primitive in comparison and nowhere strategic. He was never infamous to begin with. Yet this planet's inhabitants had names for him, some as plain as Sir Tuncan Moreau. The Mountain Who Rode, some spoke, on his chariot high in the sky.

Tuncan the Terrible, an apt name, for he was tall and he was strong, mighty and menacing in appearance with his sword of red flame. More than that, maybe, he was terrible to them, furious to his hosts, who came to know terrible pain and death at his hand, by his blade. So they called him…

Tyrant

Then someone found him and claimed him as their experiment.

Spero Station was Tuncan’s new home. They needed him in the Nemesis program. Yet, according to the High Researcher’s notes, he couldn’t cut it. So they purposed him for Project Tyrant, and his purpose in this mission would be to, what the Pyke deduced, Vader his way across the galaxy, only as a much more obedient slave under his masters.

Tyrant. Tuncan was his name. Cul repeated as he gazed into the image of whatever became of the man. He went through more than surgery. AMS. Other injections. Even the Pyke’s spice. Yet again. My. Spice.

Having navigated his way successfully enough in this system, Cul turned to discover surveillance as the Jedi, the Sith, and apparently something in between, got a little less violent.

Tyrant. Tuncan was his name.

He found the camera for the chamber where Tyrant, the Mountain, had been silent and motionless on a bed. Now, as then, Cul saw the weapon, Tyrant, only he wasn't on the bed, not anymore anyway.

“Oh. Hello.”

But staring right into a Pyke’s face.

@Sicadorito (@Cheriss Ktrame | @Quin Leonkri)

 

[Vayla Mirana]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Amid her own trials and tribulations, from a girl to a woman, this girl before her had gone through a change whose pain Vayla Mirana had been spared. Yet Leh’Min’Ayd was to bear it in her stead.

So, whatever power was in this chamber, whatever its peak, whether crystal or person, whatever the purpose, the Shadow knows that this is, ultimately, her fault. This guilt is hers. Maybe…I should have killed you the moment you took my eyes…my master…

Maybe, then, a girl would still be Leh’Min’Ayd, would still be Vayla.

Rage. Rage. That was a Sith’s way. Composure was the way of the Jedi. What, though, was the way of the emotionless? Of something in between?

It didn’t make any sense. Not then and not in that moment. Not to Vayla. Yet there Leh’Min’Ayd was, Cyrus’ Nemesis, with a blade brandished at both Cheriss and Quin, and another blade planted at her very own throat.

What happened to your Lemon, Quin?

She was still in there, somewhere, and Vayla was sure of it. Behind those violet lights, behind those violent eyes, Lemonade was still within, a heart in the dark, bursting for Quin. There was still a girl burning in a world of weapons.

Within the Togruta, Leh’Min’Ayd.
Within the Pantoran, Vayla Mirana.

Rage…isn’t the way…of the Jedi…

“Oh! Are you finally starting to see sense? I will let him go if you step out of my way and let me pursue Cyrus Orion.”

Why should Vayla disagree if they shared a common enemy? Whatever the case, whether Cheriss had a trick up her slimy Sith sleeve, any moment and Vayla may spring.

All she needed was for her enemy’s weapon to shift, to open the gate with or without Quin, and Cheriss would wish she had already forfeited.

Nemesis, yet again, was unexpected.

Rage…rage…against…

"You. Sith. BITCH."

Her heart was true.

"Or I go through him to get to you."

These violent delights have violent ends.

No. Wrong poem.

“Suit yourself, darling. This boy means nothing to me, Mirana. Whether he lives or dies is… how should I put it? Irrelevant. It’s up to you. Tell the girl to stand down and let me after her— your master, or he will face the consequences.”

Vayla remembered words, remembered water, a cave, lemonade, a bottle of lemonade that Master got her, of purple lemonade, when a woman was a girl, and a girl was a Pantoran, not a Togruta.

"Our master is one thing, what happened to her is another matter, but I would rather we all leave this chamber peacefully and quickly. On that much we agree."

But the Knight can't deny her need to punish Cheriss for her slight against Quin.

The void...

Says a voice.

I choose violence.

A lonely, lonely voice.

Locks eyes with Nemesis.

Rage…rage against the—

An entrance gave way just then. A door opened. A shape appeared in the doorway. Tall. Dark. Foreboding. Forbidden. An entity that simply should not be. It was a monstrosity. A Jedi didn’t need the Force or two eyes to see. A Shadow could simply sense it like sunlight in the darkness.

“Siiiiiiiiiiiiiith…”

It said, deep and ominous. Weapon in its hand, a hilt, ignited, emitted a black lightsaber blade that instantly reminded Vayla of Darksaber, but unrelated. This was simply the lightsaber of a dark and twisted thing that simply should not be.

“Jeeeeediiiiiiiiii…”

Yet it walked their way anyway, ignorant of defiance, oblivious to argument, as Vayla held up her blade as the sun shines its rays into darkness, opens the way of the Shadow.

@Sicadorito (@Cheriss Ktrame | @Quin Leonkri)