Ask Foundations Of A Regime

[Trodai Narat-iv-Adas]

As Trodai conducted the attack, entering a swooping dive he saw the jaws coming. Men and woman were falling all around, the beast was tenacious and far more deadly than had been anticipated. just like the desert, revealing unseen secrets yet again. And the Force testing them. The skin was thick and it was quick, as Trodai found out. He had underestimated the leviathan, another lesson to be learnt. His inexperience at leading such a large army had gotten the better of him. Although despite it the Krayt Dragon had done something, and paid a high price for it.

He was angry at himself for his own foolishness regardless. Resolving to make amends somehow, some way.

As the beast locked jaws, he dugged and weaved, trying to avoid the blows and knowing he was close to death if he didn't move quickly. So he loosed the reigns, to allow himself to fall free and was about to jump when he found himself grabbed in the air. A pressure upon his chest, the Force. He knew who it was as he flew through the air. Karys. As he was grabbed, he cushioned himself with the Force, ready for the impact to come. Hoping to lessen the impact but it would still be painful.

Hitting the sand, he felt the pain. A couple cracked ribs he imagined, his breath heaved and coughed and he spat blood out his mouth colouring the sands as it mixed with the dead. Getting up, despite the pain, using it as another source to fuel his Darkness, Trodai again used the Force to move as fast he could calling upon Force Speed. Hopefully it would be enough.

Once he was certain he was out of harm's way, temporarily at least, Trodai winced as he climbed a war beast. Grabbing the reigns, he called out at hearing the voice of Karys within his head. He knew why even before the suggestion was made, a temporary retreat was made. A tactical withdrawal to buy time. He could see Azar was up to something. It would hopefully be a chance to regroup and approach the beast another way since the direct approach appeared to do little.

Thinking about it, he thought perhaps the canyon might have been the wiser choice, even despite the risk of ambush, it would have perhaps been better than facing this beast. But it was too late to change or dwell on it now. And so he called out "All units tactical withdrawal! Pull back and wait for further orders. Stop the assault! Leave the dead and anything not essential. Leave the beast for now! Regroup! Any Grotthu left stay behind and assist with occupying the beast!" Within moments those that remained followed the orders, retreating backwards, at least temporarily, running or using any available war beast the opposite way to the leviathan. All were moving out and away from the leviathan, some relieved it would be over for what little reprieve they had. For the Grotthu left, which were few they would have a different fate. One in blood and sand, left to die.

Trodai knew even he would have to see how many were left after and adjust from there. Luckily he still had forces at Ur to draw on to replace the losses suffered and Grotthu could be replaced. For now though those left formed up further back, away from the leviathan. Ready for a second round. He telepathically informed Karys the army was pulling back temporarily as per the request, the Grotthu that remained would be a lure. Once he rallied the troops to the new position, he headed back into the fray, and headed to Karys. He wasn't about to let the man who saved him perish. He considered it a debt he needed to repay and he was important to Azar. And so him too. Wincing, he rode in trying to avoid the tail and beast as it flailed about.

He knew Azar was going to be disappointed with the outcome so far. He hated himself for it and was determined to get better and make up for his mistake. By aiding Azar and by assisting Karys. Buying some time. Hopefully the beast didn't follow the troops. He knew there was still a chance even if a slim one.

Spoiler

OOC: Actions Taken -
1.Ducked about to avoid being caught between the beasts and jumped off when there was a opening. Cushioned himself with the Force after being grabbed by Karys. Resulting in two cracked ribs.

2.Used Force Speed to avoid being crushed.

3.Got on a war beast rode the other way, ordered a tactical retreat, forming the army back up, further away from the leviathan ready for a second assault when ordered and to buy time for Azar and went back to assist Karys. Grotthu remaining left as bait.

4.Telepathically informed Karys of the army pulling back ready for another round. Headed back to assist Karys.

@Sreeya @Apollyon @Phoenix

 

[Darth Arcanos]

It was a risk and Azar knew it, but he had to try. Being a Sith Master hopefully gave him a slight edge in his efforts. He doubled down on his attempts to sway the beast’s mind. The others had to have faith in him, and had to protect him and the other sorcerers. Azar directed the other sorcerers to reach into the mind of the beast to learn the name of its former master, the last one that effectively had its loyalty. Azar wished to utter that name, to manifest himself as that Sith Lord into the creature’s mind. It was a tricky use of the Force, and if he was wrong, he could jeopardize their entire operation.

He couldn’t focus on what happened with Trodai’s near death and Karys jumping to rescue him. Azar couldn’t focus on any of it. He could only trust in himself and the Force and hope it would guide them out of this.

@Phoenix @Akheron @Apollyon

 

[The Storyteller]

Acid scalded through the Krayt Dragon's throat, and while Trodai survived the fall from his beast, it wasn't without repercussions. His ankle would twist under him as he landed, and although by some miracle it didn't break, his speed would be several hampered in the coming battle.

Thanks, however, to Karys's timely intervention, he would manage to clear the Kaiju fight without being crushed.

With the attacks on the Leviathan coming to a close, it seemed almost distracted for a moment, feeding on the body of the Krayt Dragon and perhaps even placated by the earlier mental infiltration. It was a literal coin toss whether it would help or turn against them still until Azar had the mind to emulate the creature's master.

How shocking it must then have been when a single name etched into Azar's mind: Syresh Lapar. As a student of history, he may recognize the name. All but lost to the annals of galactic history, Syresh Lapar was many things. Former Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. Most powerful of the Jedi Exiles in the Hundred Years' Darkness. Grandfather to Andraste.

And this beast was the most powerful of his creations now bleeding into the desert and, as they may now sense, not long for this world. It's time was fading even as its blood ran out, though its clear attachment to its former master was one that hadn't been broken even after seven millennia. As difficult as it was to believe, it missed its master. Like a dog misses its owner, it was a memory that hadn't been broken even by all the years that passed.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Syresh Lapar.

If Azar had been combatant first, intellectual second, the name likely would have meant nothing. However, as Kissai, not only was he taught about his own ancestry, but he knew extensively about their conquerors. He took a moment to consider his options, knowing that the warriors on the field would find his methods strange. Perhaps they would even question it. He was not King yet.

“Heal it,” He commanded the sorcerers. He could feel skepticism from the group. He could hear hushed whispers among some of the guards, “HEAL IT!” Azar commanded, his tone carrying the fury as he gazed at them all, “Draw from the injured grotthu.”

And so, with the aid of alchemy and their twisted version of siphoning life to grant it, several grotthu were sacrificed to patch up the leviathan. At the same time, Azar latched onto that thread he caught within its mind, manifesting as Syresh himself.

It has been so long, His voice would echo, vague enough to make it difficult to discern it wasn’t Syresh, I call upon you once more. Succeed in all the ways my granddaughter did not. Carry my will to bring forth swift vengeance and retribution against those that would act against us.

Sweat lined Azar’s face and body not from the heat, but from being nervous. If he was wrong, he risked getting every single person here killed. But if he was right, it could potentially be a huge payout. It was the last attempt to salvage an otherwise terrible situation.

@Apollyon @Akheron @Phoenix

 

[Karys]

Karys and his ten riders watched with curiosity as the Leviathan began feeding on the Krayt. Karys’ golden eyes only shifted from the display before him to Trodai’s rapidly approaching form. The man had pulled back the army, protecting their units which served as hammers but sacrificed their chaff, he hoped the sacrifice would be worth it.

He sent a telepathic pulse to Trodai, warding his contemporary away from him. He wasn’t needed and if Karys was honest, he didn’t want to be around the other man right now. His blood boiled at the ruined formations that had wasted resources all in the name of an unnecessary vainglorious charge. Karys and his riders would instead steadily back away from the creature, especially as they watched the crimson trails that connected the grotthu to the leviathan. It was a ritualized mass force drain that Karys didn’t feel like getting caught in. And so, as the Kissai Sacrificed their wounded to heal this beast, Karys would loop around the creature while it fed. He’d return to his husband’s side, a deep scowl born from annoyance written on his face.

Karys didn’t speak however, he could see that Azar was deep within a trance of some sort. Instead, he simply leant him his strength to sap from through their connection. He allowed his own reserves to power whatever Azar was attempting to accomplish.

@Sreeya @Phoenix @Akheron

 

[Trodai Narat-iv-Adas]

Trodai was on the way, riding his new war beast, when he found on further inspection he had twisted his ankle in the scuffle between the Leviathan and Krayt. It was painful like his two ribs but bearable, he had suffered worse. Instead he used the combined pain as fuel. Feeling the pulse of telepathic energy that was Karys, warding him away...Trodai turned back and rejoined his men. Observing the leviathan at a save distance. Noticing the strange form of force drain en-masse, he knew Azar was up to something.

He saw he was still in his trance and so needed protecting, and as Karys joined him, seemingly joining the trance, it appeared they both would be vulnerable. It would become Trodai task to ensure they lived.

But first he needed to be sure of something. Facing the men he gave an order. "Have all trebuchet and siege weapons ready to concentrate fire on the wounds of the beast should it turn on us and should whatever General Karys and Sith'ari Azar are doing fail. Do nothing but stay back until told otherwise!" He continued "Royal guard units move to protect them both and the sorcerers at all costs." he said. The troops moved about organising the formation, bringing the trebuchet and heavier weapons within firing range ready to concentrate fire on the leviathans open wounds in the event of failure to control it. A contingency.

Meanwhile the royal guard moved to protect the now two vulnerable and more experienced Sith, along with the sorcerers. The other men remained and assisted with moving the heavy weapons, yet standing away from the leviathan ahead and the drain going on. The Grotthu left were sacrificed to both the beast and the force drain ritual.

Once he was sure they were in the right position, Trodai waited to give the signal should it be the case he was forced to use the contingency and hoped the Darkness they commanded in the Force was kind to them. After testing them so. Now it was up to Azar, yet he had faith in him, just as he had in Karys. And so did all those before him.

@Sreeya @Apollyon @Phoenix

 

[The Storyteller]

It was difficult to say whether or not it was shocking that the army went along with Azar's plan to heal the creature that had just butchered a large portion of their number, but they did it.

Perhaps it was fanaticism or perhaps it was disregard for those whose lives were being fueled or perhaps it was simple curiosity. Whatever it was, the Kissai obeyed.

The life of the the Grotthu were drained and transported into the Leviathan, and they would be able to see that although the gushes of blood seemed to slow, the wounds were still open. It wasn't lack of commitment or even lack of power that prevented the creature from being fully healed, it was lack of fuel. There simply weren't enough half-dead slaves to fully heal the beast.

How well would the healing last? It was difficult to say. Could they sacrifice more people to heal it? Almost certainly. Most of the people wouldn't really understand what was happening apart from the most highly educated, but what they would understand was that whatever Azar and his priests had done... it had not only placated the creature but seemed to have bonded to it in some way. It seemed no longer able to tell apart Azar from Syresh Lapar.

And more than that, it seemed ready to fight for them.

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar felt that bond manifest between him and the leviathan. He had the power of a legendary beast in his hands. All he had to do was put more of his men to death. The Grotthu had served that purpose and nothing else, after all. He already knew he would have to draw from the lives of some of the sorcerers to add more ‘fuel’. Azar looked around at his forces, all of them gazing at him. All of them knew the grim reality they faced. The grotthu lined up first, prepared to serve their usual role. A few of the sorcerers exhaled and stiffened, knowing what would come.

And then Azar thought back to the time the Dark Lord spoke to him upon a hill far from here. He thought back to his ancestry and the ways of his people. He gazed at the Leviathan and he dropped down from his mount, slowly walking towards the beast. One by one the Grotthu knelt as he strode by, prepared for their sacrifice. Azar moved directly towards the dying leviathan, spotting the eyes and the way it gazed at the Pureblood as its recognized master.

Azar raised a hand, a tiny and diminutive hand, to rest against the beast feeling the slow rise and fall of its chest. He felt that ancient life within it, the old and archaic bones that existed so long without purpose and direction. The fondness the beast felt at finally finding that again for this brief moment, given a chance to return.

Then Azar gazed back over the rows upon rows of his military forces, huge swaths that would have to die to fuel such an endeavor. The Kressh slowly turned back to look at the Leviathan, leaning in to press a helmeted forehead against the beast. The Leviathan would only feel its master’s calming presence then.

Find peace, Azar whispered to the beast, Find me in the Force where I await you.

He released the hold he had on the beast, gently drawing the life from it in a way that would be peaceful for the creature. Instead that energy would be siphoned back to his men, allowing those injured to stand and rise again. In its dying breaths, the beast would have believed it found its master again, drifting off into eternal peace.

Theme​

Azar turned to look at his army again, knowing many of them had countless opinions about giving up on such an asset. The Pureblood looked over at everyone.

“Adas, Kressh, Sadow, Andraste, Malicia…there were many leaders in various capacities in our time, many that experienced rule for but a blink of time building an empire upon the bloodied backs of their subjects,” Azar’s voice projected through the Force, “And each one suffered the same end in deception and destruction. Countless times a Pureblood has risen to the throne by cutting and tearing their way to the top. And all they managed was to leave a foundation beneath them as fleeting as sand in the wind,” He projected them, “It is a circle that begins before Adas and continues throughout our history. We allowed outsiders to conquer us because we build empires on fragile devotions.”

Azar started walking towards the military forces, “I have no intention of repeating the same mistakes of my ancestors,” He looked across at Karys and at Trodai, “We have Kressh. We have Adas. We have Sadow reborn,” Azar projected, “We have the blood of our ancestors. And we have the knowledge of our past. We have the knowledge to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past. We have the power to break the cycle.”

Azar projected louder then, “If we will conquer Murzana, we do it with the blood, sweat and tears of each and every one of us here. We do not do it with the aid of an outsider’s beast because we do not need it. Let every grotthu feel pride in the cause. Let every Kissai draw from strengths they’ve always had. Let every Massassi know that they have their role to play. Let all of you understand that you matter far more alive than dead.”

He paused before he continued, “I will not be a King stepping upon the backs of broken and shattered subjects. I will be a King you choose. I will be a King you love. I will be a King you follow to the depths of Hell. Because I will go there with you. I will be that King because I trust in us. Because I trust in you.”

Azar took his helmet off then, his gleaming golden eyes gazing over at them, “So are you with me?”

He asked again, “ARE YOU WITH ME?"

@Apollyon @Akheron @Phoenix

 

[Veltharion]

Veltharion bit back a curse as he wheeled his warbeast around with a squeeze of his knees, the smell of blood and burning flesh filling his nose while the pained screams of the injured and dying echoed like a cacophony in his ear. The Barabel acolyte's right arm hung limply at his side while his left was balancing the weight of the grounded slave warrior he'd pulled up onto his beast out of the path of a spray of acid, wrenching his shoulder in the process, as the call had come to pull back from the rampage of the beast. In all his years as a hunter Vel had never seen it's like; the glint of mad intelligence in it's eyes, the thick near impenetrable hide, it's overwhelming sense in the Force. He'd had his reservations when the call was made to charge but he rode forward with the other beast riders regardless, swept along in the press of bodies until heavy feet crashing down shook the earth beneath them and acidic bile rained from the sky.

He twisted, his back protesting as pockmarked scales and parts of the melted backplate for his armor sloughed off to reveal the burned skin beneath; he'd not been so fortunate as his new Massassi friend. An echo in the Force caught his attention, head turning back and forth searching for the source as the Leviathan's lifeblood began to slow and the remaining soldiers shuffled beneath the weight of their armor and their wounds and their dead into position. Reaching a hand down to shake the Massassi, Vel realized that the hulking red humanoid was barely breathing, a deep burn marring his arm where the acid had ate through flesh until he could see glimpses of white bone. Glancing around for any sign of a bloodletter or healer, the Barabel moved to pull a bacta patch free from his belt when the tendrils of energy he could sense in the Force seemed to curl around his charge and in the blink of the eye the flickering light Vel could sense fighting to live on was torn from the slave soldier's body and whisked away to continue healing the beast he'd almost survived.

Veltharion was no stranger to war; the Bleeding Hollow clan frequently engaged in raids and campaigns of expansion through the tunnels into the warrens of their neighboring clans and Veltharion had been taking part in those fights since he was old enough to wield a spear. But the Sith waged war in ways he still could not fathom despite having spent weeks learning the ins and outs of Longfang's warcamp; talk of caste and species, of the merit of birth and pacts and alliances. Among the Sith there was no comradery; it only mattered whether your name or your power could keep you elevated you above the status of the grotthu whose only purpose was to die en masse for their betters, of the massassi who fought with zealous loyalty but were left to be burned or trampled or if you were destined to be fed into the... machine of the Darkside, a bloodwine drank in toast to power.

In the privacy of his own mind Veltharion admitted himself disappointed, sliding down off the back of his warbeast and depositing the dead warrior on the sandy earth with a moment of solemn reverence. Vel hadn't known the being's name, but they'd shed blood on the field of battle and that was enough a reason for the Barabel to remember him... even if no one else cared to remember. The Barabel had thought - hoped, perhaps - that the Longfang he'd sworn too that morning on the Hunter's Moon was better than this.

Reaching out with his senses, Veltharion could still feel the weakening body of the Leviathan, the wine of sacrifice used to nurture him not nearly enough to heal it's wounds. It would need more, and everyone knew the choice that would be made; what were a mass of slaves and soldiers worth compared to a Leviathan of legend? A low murmur swept through the warband as the Kressh slowly stepped down from his vantage and moved across the desert toward his prize. Slowly, almost as one, the Grotthu stepped forward and knelt in the bloody sand as he passed, facing the man who would be King with heads bowed as though they were unworthy to look upon him. Massassi too wounded to be worth the effort of saving were next, limping forward and leaning against their spears while standing as well as they could, their pride as warriors demanding that they face this sacrifice with the same courage they used against any other foe. Several of the sorcerers, their weaker status denoted by the lack of decoration on their robes and their proximity to the slaves forced themselves to stand at attention, the power coiled within them ebbing loose and ready to be claimed.

'Would this one be claimed az well? Fuel for an asset more worthy?' he silently questioned as he rose to his feet, stepping forward to join the warrior class with his lightsaber pike extended but unlit, joining the silent vigil that waited for the moment the stench and the heat of the desert would be replaced with the emptiness of the netherworld of the Force, their souls consigned and consumed. Azar stepped closer to the Leviathan, pressing his forehead to the beast's flesh and Veltharion tensed as he felt the Sith Master's power unfurl like the wings of a great star dragon, the shadow it cast washing over all who stood assembled waiting and sinking into their beaten and burned flesh... all it would take was a single, gentle tug to unspool the life energies of every poor soul there. The Barabel let out a breath; his life for the Longfang, as he had sworn all those moons ago.

Hundreds of voices gasped as one, energy coiling and surrounding them with the gentle surety of a father's embrace as the Kressh siphoned the life away from the Leviathan and used it to bolster his men; grotthu that had been left laying in the sand at death's door lifted their hands and looking at unblemished skin, rising only to fall to their knees in gratitude beside their fellows. Massassi stood tall and proud, no longer leaning on their spears to remain standing but facing their leader with bright eyes and their strength returned. The sorcerers reigned in their offered power, exhaustion from their efforts brushed away by the Leviathan's sacrifice. Veltharion himself felt cool relief as the burn across his back faded, the ache in his shoulder disappearing with a rush of warmth and he looked down to see scales unmarred and shining red.

In a single act the man who would be king sacrificed a creature worth multiple armies to heal his one. And then he spoke.

The crowd was silent as the Kressh spoke, a call to action carried on the wind and by the Force so that every being present could hear his words, his vow; to build a kingdom greater than the follies of the past, to build a future of stability and prosperity... to be a King worthy of being followed. And then has asked if they would stand with him.

It started slowly, the Grotthu rising onto their feet with pride in their bearing as they clenched their fists and beat them against their breastplates, an echoing sound of flesh on metal that spread through their ranks and echoed with the thump-thump of their beating hearts. The Massassi came next, the butts of their great metal spears pounding the desert beneath their feet in time with the beat of the Grotthu as the clang-clang of metal on stone. The Kissai raised their hands and began to chant, a cry taken up by the men and women of the army filling the air and echoing up to the heavens, reaching across the desert to warn Murzana of their coming. Veltharion stood with them, beating his pike against the stone and lifting his voice to join their chant with a wide, fang-filled grin splitting his face.

He had placed his faith in his Longfang and he had been rewarded.

"Sith'ari! Sith'ari! Sith'ari! Azar'ithar! Azar'ithar! AZAR'ITHAR!"



@Sreeya @Apollyon @Akheron @Phoenix

 

[Trodai Narat-iv-Adas]

Trodai continued to wait, only to find the order would never come to strike again. Instead he observed with a curious eye as he noted the beast finally relented...Azar had done it just as he knew he would. His faith rewarded and the current test passed despite their losses. They had faced a leviathan of legend and defeated it. Azar had proven why Troda I would follow him, why he loved him yet again. For instead of sacrificing more lives as he could have he saw something else.

Trodai saw him walk to the beast, place his head upon it and release it from it's mortal coil. He felt it die, it's release and the life siphoned into all around including himself. His twisted ankle was no more, and his broken ribs healed. In that moment he felt relief as his strength was returned. He still hated himself for being so headstrong at first, a flaw he would correct but he hoped he had redeemed himself in the end.

And then he listened as Azar spoke. Impassioned and talking like he were Trodai about a subject. And as he listened, as Azar looked at him, Trodai smiled back. Looking into the amber eyes of fire and passion he had come to know and love. The man who He would die for and very nearly had. He would not forget what Karys had done. Saving him from his own stupidity. Trodai gave the Barabel, Veltharion a respectful nod. He had earnt his place here and would be considered a ally.

He continued to listen as Azar spoke about breaking the cycle and learning from mistakes. A lesson he took to heart, he would learn. He was inspired yet again as he spoke of all having a role to play even Trodai. Despite his flaws. That he mattered, which drew another smile. To matter to him despite what happened, just as Trodai found that Azar mattered to him just as much.

He found he loved him more when he said he wouldn't step on the people's backs. He would be a King they wished for and Trodai knew him to be. At Azar speaking of being a King they choose, they would love and follow to the depths of he'll and how he would do the same for them. Trodai heart thumped, this was why he loved him. And searching within himself, he considered the words.

All of them. And now he was certain he was Sith'ari, and all here saw it now too just as he had. Trodai thought upon what Azar said about Adas, Kressh and Sadow being reborn and now standing together reborn. The words stuck, as he considered his next actions. Finding Azar was a King he choose, a King he would follow into hell itself. A King he loved. And not just for being a king, but for the man he was and had come to know.

He knew he would be a worthy successor to the line of Kings. In a small way, ever since they had spent time together he was sure he had always known.

As the words were spoken he thought back upon what he had said to Nana Kressh before they left. That he had not yet considered a husband, or the future in that particular way. Yet now he found he had his answer to that question. He knew what he would do, what was needed for not just for the people....but for what he wanted and needed. And so Trodai joined the chants.

As they died down he approached Azar and Mary's beside, this had to be handled with care "Excellent words Azar, as always you know just what to say. And what we all needed to hear. "I am sorry for being so headstrong Azar, Karys. For my mistake...it is another flaw. One I will stump out. I have done some thinking, your words...as always spoke to me" he continued "I said before we left to Nana Kressh I was undecided upon considering a husband. At the time it was true...but now... now I believe with a certainty and without a doubt I have an answer to it. You are the King I chose, the Sith'ari. And I will follow to the depths of Hell just as you will for us. I trust in you as the King I love and the man I love. I trust Azar. And know now what I want, I just hope you want it too. That despite my flaws, that you still see me as I see you."


Trodai pulled out a ancient looking ornate ring with runes upon it. If he were to read the inscription it said 'Galez Shâsot ir Saud Merji Ir Xunj'ti Tave Viekis' in basic it would mean 'May Passion and Fire Bind And Unite The Strong'.

Trodai spoke briefly " "I know it's unorthodox...but I don't know if we will ever have another chance. Not with Murzana so close and with such inspiring words. It just feels right to do this now." And so Trodai went to one knee, offering the ring "I Trodai, of House Adas, would offer my hand of marriage and join Adas to Kressh and Sadow reborn. I offer this ring, heirloom of my House that would be a sign of our unification. I ask not just to unite our people but what I hope we feel for each other and continue to feel. And would wish to share of you. I would desire to be your second husband and understand all it means. I accept the responsibility and the privilege should you accept me. For all I am, just as I accept you for all you are Azar'ithar and your husband Karys'ithar. As the man and men you are. For I am with you."

As he knelt, offering the ring, he wondered what the answer might be all considered, and what Karys might think. He doubted he would like it much, but in the grand scheme of things he hoped he might see the practicality of the union and joining the houses in such a manner even if he didn't quite approve of Trodai himself yet. Perhaps he would grow on him like he did Azar.

@Sreeya @Apollyon @Phoenix @Rom

 

[Karys]

Karys was beside his husband, Azar when he began his address. Karys’ golden gaze remained unwaveringly on Azar as he spoke, just as it always had been. Karys had been Azar’s earliest follower. He’d believed in Azar even when he was just the Potionsmaster and an exile. A soft smile tugged at the edges of his lips as he listened.

When Azar spoke of unity, of one people, and a new future they could forge together Karys found himself in awe. His mind was no longer on the blunder that had occurred moments ago, it was no longer on the dying beasts. Instead, he was solely captivated by Azar’s vision. When Azar pulled his helmet from his head and shouted out his question, Karys’ voice was one of the many that echoed in reply. He beat a fist on his chest and bellowed out Azar’s name. As the throngs quieted, Karys had some time to remember their countless moments together.

How far Azar had come since then.

He remembered when he first met Azar at the top of that hill on Zygerria. When they first kissed in the Queen’s garden. The first night they spent together in their first home, Azar’s tiny nook at the academy. He remembered the rough kiss on Panatha when he realized that Azar loved him. When their minds melded together on Malachor and they fully understood one another. New Alderaan, when they finally confessed their love for one another. And finally, here on Korriban when they truly became one.

Their’s had been a series of firsts.

Azar had always been the man Karys chose. He’d always been the man he loved. He’d always been the man he would die for. It never mattered if Azar was pauper, prince, or king. Karys had given himself over to his husband so wholly that there had never been a moment of doubt or thought otherwise.

This was the depths of his devotion.

Karys recognized that his thoughts and memories were likely shared with Azar in that moment. He was fine with this, he wanted Azar to know how proud he was of the man, the king he’d become. They were words he’d meant to speak aloud, when Trodai stepped forward from the crowd. Karys stepped forward and took his husband hand in his own as the other man spoke, as he apologized. Karys’ gaze softened then, had he been any better before his experiences?

No.

The scars on Karys’ hand were a testament to his rash behavior. His own Lightning had eaten his hand up, leaving it a ruined mess for weeks. How many times had he nearly died on Zygerria because of his own blunders? Trodai was young and still had much to learn. He had to be given the opportunities to learn from his mistakes and not be damned for them.

Karys gave the smaller man a slow nod, he would accept the apology. But he would expect the Adas to learn from his mistakes and grow from them as well. Karys’ eyes would be watching them with unbiased lenses.

Then Trodai produced a ring and dropped to a knee.

Karys’ breath hitched at Trodai’s proposal. His grip on Azar’s hand tightened momentarily before relaxing. How long had the pair known one another for this to be a serious proposal? Karys’ golden gaze pulled itself from Trodai and turned down towards Azar. He didn’t press his emotions or thoughts through their connection to his husband. Instead, he spoke silently through their Bond.

If you love him, Azar, he may join in our union.

Karys knew his blessing likely wouldn’t impact Azar’s decision overly much. But he gave it nonetheless. He wouldn’t deny Azar what his heart craved. Karys would do has he’d always done, be the steadfast support his husband could rely upon.

And perhaps with time, he would come to appreciate Trodai.

@Sreeya @Phoenix @Akheron @Rom

 

[Darth Arcanos]

The thumping of spears, the drums, the chanting, all of it was in concert with the rhythm of his heart. All of it resounded in his mind, his spirit and body. He gazed across at them all, feeling a sense of pride, for the first time, not just for himself but for others. Azar allowed himself a smile, thinking back to the early days of his exile and when he was nothing but a small time nobody out in the bigger galaxy. He thought of all the ways he clawed and fought his way to earn his birthright all over again.

Despite being called Sith’ari, despite the faith Trodai or Karys had in him, there had always been someone that he hadn’t won over yet.

Azar Kressh.

Today was the first time that Azar Kressh believed in him. And that carried more weight than all the legions of his people, his lovers, his husband, the Dark Lord, his ancestors, his blood, the old gods themselves combined. It was not until this moment that he fully trusted in himself. He would be King. He would be a ruler. He would have the devotion of his people. But above all, he would have faith in himself.

The Pureblood watched as Trodai arrived, pleased to see him healed. The man had been foolish, but Azar was still fond of him. And he still hadn’t realized that Karys saved him. He listened to Trodai speak, Karys grasping his hand through it. He entwined their fingers, his focus on the Adas and his words.

There was a gasp of surprise as Trodai knelt down and presented the ring - an exquisite piece that took his breath away. Azar’s heart thundered against his chest, caught up in the moment of the battle and everything leading up to this point. He saw the memories he shared with Karys, felt the love and adoration of both men. Azar glanced over at his husband, almost having expected an impulsive reaction. To his shock, Karys maintained a steadfast resolve, his voice echoing within Azar’s mind.

The Kressh gazed at Trodai. He thought about those moments back in Ur, of the tender times they shared, the nights of passion, the way he felt a sense of attachment, the way Trodai made him smile with all his incessant rambling that he once found irritating.

Azar thought back to his own tumultuous nature. He was as unruly, unforgiving and devastating as the oceans he was so afraid of. When he came in like a tidal wave, he thought of all the ways he could simply flood and sweep through everyone and everything in his path. He thought of Karys and the way he was an unmoving, unyielding bulwark against every storm Azar ever brought.

And the cost to get there.

The Pureblood smiled at Trodai, actually lowering himself down to the other man’s level. He placed his hand over Trodai’s, “I adore you, Trodai, and I cherish you. I am on the path towards feeling something far more, but I am not there…just yet,” Azar admitted softly. He was attached to Trodai, but he could not yet say he loved the man the way Trodai loved him, “I am not prepared to join our names just yet, Trodai. If you wait for me..perhaps there will come a day,” He said softly before leaning in to kiss the man, "But I would have you remain by my side..not just for this campaign but for me."

He would linger there with Trodai as long as he needed before drawing up to stand again, helping the other man up to his feet.

Exhaustion was taking a hold over Azar from the attempts on the Leviathan, a slight stumble to his steps. He glanced back at the beast, calling out to his men, “Salvage what you can from it,” He said. Its spirit was a part of the Force and there was nothing but a carcass left behind.

“There is a dry riverbed not far from here,” Azar said, “We will make camp there and the sorcerers can extract water from the earth.”

@Apollyon @Akheron @Rom

 

[Trodai Narat-iv-Adas]

As Trodai knelt the world around almost seemed to slow down at least for that moment. As he sat between knowing and not knowing what the answer might be. He could see Azar thinking again, and finally he answered. Trodai heart sank a little, ached at the decision but he understood it. And perhaps some of the reasons why. He still had much to learn despite being a Champion.

And so although a little disappointed he smiled, accepting the kiss and Azar choice. If he was not ready that was fair enough...and so he would do as was asked. He would wait. Perhaps for a eternity, but he would do it. In one life or the next. Rising to his feet, he put the ring safely away, securing it on his own ring finger. He spoke "I accept your decision Azar, as much as I may wish for more. Perhaps one day we will think equally of each other, and it will be different. I shall keep it on me for now, and when you are ready...only then will I remove it and only when you want it. This is my vow."

He said as he gave a quick pause before he spoke again.

"If you wish me to remain, then I will in whatever manner you might desire of me. And would love to continue in the manner we were if you both wish it. You know where I stand regardless. Amber Flame." he said with a slight smirk at the nickname he since coined on account of his eyes. As Azar helped him to his feet, Trodai likewise assisted when he started to stumble. Holding one side, but allowing Karys to assist the other if he wanted.

As Azar called men to salvage what they could an idea sprung to mind, he suggested it to Azar and Karys "A thought occurs. We might be able to use the skin of the creature to shield our men approaching the Murzana walls just as we can use the acid. I suggest collecting it too. Put it in trebuchet balls...and rain acid death from above on all inside. Or strike the walls...it seems potent enough it might help make additional entry points or melt anti-siege weapons. That with fire balls should help our chances."

As he spoke of a riverbed, Trodai had some men scout it out ahead. No mistakes this time. If it was safe he would send a group to set the camp perimeter and sentries with guarding Tuk'ata.

@Sreeya @Apollyon @Rom @Phoenix

 

[Veltharion]

As the moment passed and the Generals moved to speak with their King, Veltharion turned away and did a quick once over of his body checking for any remaining injuries after Azar's Sacrifice, clawed fingers running over the gaps in his armor created by the Leviathan's acid and finding unblemished scales beneath them. The entire back of his breastplate was compromised and he tossed the warped and pitted back plate aside to be used for scrap metal or patch repairs, but the front was still in mostly functioning order and his dyed trandoshan scale cloak had made it through unscathed. His lightsaber and pike were both undamaged, but the crude sith sword he'd been wielding was damaged beyond repair and joined the ruined backplate in the sand. Heaving a sigh from exhaustion - mental more so than physical - the Barabel acolyte turned his head to see the other warriors and grotthu going through the same checks he'd just made; armor too worn or damaged to be of use removed to be looked at by the smiths and sorcerers to see if anything could be salvaged once camp was made.

Crossing over to his mount Veltharion took a moment to run a hand between the warbeast's red eyes; he was not familiar enough with the creatures of the galaxy to guess what the beast had been before the alchemists got their hands on it but it was brave and swift and Vel had become fond of it in the weeks they'd been riding together. Heaving himself up into the saddle, Vel wheeled the beast around and moved forward with a slight push of his mind against the beasts with the Force to join the rest of the riders assembling near the bodies of the Leviathan and the Krayt dragon. One of General Trodai's men was standing before them and pointed to Veltharion as he approached.

"Acolyte, King Azar'ithar spoke of a dried out riverbed nearby that we might make camp in before making the push to Murzana. You're to take command of the scouting division and ensure that the armies path to the riverbed is clear and that the riverbed itself is a safe location to camp. Be swift, and report back as soon as you can; the army cannot afford more losses like the toll taken by the Leviathan."

Veltharion lifted his fist over his heart and dipped his head in acknowledgement, silently wondering just how many had to die that he was being entrusted with the scouting division, and accepted a gold banded horn that he quickly slung over his shoulder to hang at his waist. "This one will ensuer the road iz clear and any hazardz reported." The General's aide returned the salute and then moved on, waving and shouting to get the army into some semblance of order. Looking over the bodies of the Leviathan and Krayt enviously, Vel turned to the waiting scouts and tilted his head back toward the desert with a barely there flash of a fanged grin. "Let us not waste any more time; the sooner we guarantee the safety of the campsite the sooner we get to eat and rest." The scouts gave a ragged cheer and quickly mounted up before turning as one and setting off at a quick gallop into the wastes.

The scouting party quickly gained distance from the army, dust and sand flying in a plume behind them as they rode north. Cresting a dune the Barabel lifted his hand to call for a pause and then pulled a battered pair of macrobinoculars from his belt; in the distance he could see the winding snake of the dried riverbed as it curled and carved through the land and a few pllumes of sand showing riders moving as fast as they could away from the army; some heading east toward where the maps claimed more of the Sand Tribes lived, but three moving at a fast clip west in the direction of Murzana. Veltharion gnashed his fangs and stowed the binoculars before snapping the reins and sending his group of fifty riders galloping down the hill; while he would prefer to stop any word from reaching Murzana of their approach he knew it would be impossible to catch the enemy scouts. Casting out his senses, the Acolyte grinned at the taste of awe and fear wafting in the wake of the riders passage in the Force.

Perhaps accounts of Azar's Sacrifice and the death of the Leviathan spreading might be to their advantage.

The scouts slowed as they approached the riverbed, moving warily as they scanned the ground for animal tracks or signs of enemy passage, traps, or flashfloods. Their job was to see if the area would make a good spot for the army to make camp and Vel intended it to be a very thorough sweep.

@Sreeya @Phoenix @Apollyon @Akheron

 

[Karys]

Karys felt the exhaustion coursing through Azar. It was what led him to watch over Azar as he crouched to speak to his suitor. Karys' gaze spoke to the protective and he had developed towards his husband. Azar's words weren't what he expected. He knew Azar was fond of Trodai and parts of him had wondered if it bordered on or was love. It seems Azar had realized the truth behind that on his own. Karys would wait patiently for his husband to stand and as Azar did, Karys would wrap an arm around his back, his hand cupped the opposite elbow. When Azar took the first steps and made to stumble, Karys was already there to steady him.

Just as he had done countless times before, Karys covered Azar's moment of weakness from the eyes of countless.

His soft gaze remained on the love of his life as he effortlessly supported his weight. It would look natural to the countless followers, none of them would ever suspect that Azar had even began to stumble. A small knowing smile tugged at the edges of his lips. This was how Karys expressed his love to Azar, in small ways that no one else would ever see or notice. When the scouts left to inspect the riverbed and Trodai began to give his order, Karys was at Azar's side.

He never left him.

He would pick up his husband tenderly and gently place him back on his mount before taking his place in front of him. Karys would allow Azar to rest, leaning against his back as he guided their beast of burden towards the riverbank. Karys would occasionally glance back to wordlessly check on Azar. He had to be sure his husband's exhaustion didn't overwhelm him and cause him to slide from the saddle. And it wouldn't be until the columns of soldiers and throngs of followers were busy setting up camp that Karys would speak.

<Let me help you down, darling.> He whispered affectionately as their mount slowly plodded to a halt at the campsite.

Karys would discreetly help Azar down and guide him to their tent which was being hastily constructed. He would remain by Azar's side for the rest of the day and night. Ever-vigilant, ever-protective.

@Sreeya @Phoenix @Rom @Akheron

 

[The Storyteller]

Perhaps it was the collapsing of the ravine or perhaps it was just good fortune that the army wasn't attacked outright in the night, but that wasn't to say that things were safe. The danger that lurked here was far more insidious.

It crept up throughout the night as men and women from the army awoke in cold sweats. Visions of their worst nightmares would materialize in front of them, some even being driven so mad as to attack their fellow soldiers.

Where it came from or how it was deployed was a mystery, but what was clear was that things were on the verge of getting out of control.

Together, the group of leaders would be able to discern that some sort of airborne toxin had somehow been deployed within the camp. The very manifestation of Sith sorcery powers of terror and madness in aerosolized form.

Madness, terror, and despair sprung up everywhere, and not just within the soldiers. Azar, Trodai, Karys, and Veltharion would all have to face and battle their own fears: betrayal by those they cared for, monstrosities, failure... whatever they feared most would be before them.

 

[Trodai Narat-iv-Adas]

Trodai allowed Karys to take Aza r away to rest while he did a personal check of the perimeter. Satisfied, he headed to the Krayt Dragon aware of tales about them supposedly capable of making and carrying a rare pearl within. Rare and valuable. And so he carved it open, careful to get acid in himself before accomplishing the messy task and removing a fairly large pearl.

He headed to the riverbed and cleaned it up, then himself.

Placing the larger pearl within his tent for storage, he was up longer than most in meditation. It was only when he tried to sleep that the fun began. As his deepest vulnerabilities came to the surface unleashed by the toxin. He now found himself in a place not the desert, a place more akin to a ruined temple. Where he was forced to sit at the centre surrounded. Here he was powerless and surrounded by beings shrouded and ominous.

Here his fears became manifest as Trodai found himself being stabbed in the back by a dagger wielded by Azar. An illusion. The fear of betrayal by Azar, with another connected to the visage of Karys. It was the same all around as each shroud was removed, each were connected to his fears of betrayal by those he cared for. And paying the price for allowing the attachment.

This was soon followed by another illusion.

With the images of first Adas pointing out his failures before forcing him to bare the weight of those chains. As they threatened to encase and engulf him. As each heckled and doubted him.

First was Adas who called out, whispering doubts in his ear "You are unworthy of my lineage. Of my blood, of Ur."

Next Karys "Unworthy of Azar. Of my blessing."

And finally an Azar illusion who moved closer "You are unworthy of my love and affection. Of the Sith. Of the Sith'ari."

All called in unison as the multiple chains wrapped around his body, seeking to bury him in the weight of the chains of his failures. Threatening to bury him in his failures. Trodai very nearly gave in until he found strength in realising it was his failures that made him stronger. In the lessons he had learnt, and diswaying the sentiments being whispered. On the realisation the chains snapped and he found himself back in the desert. Hearing screams around as he calmed himself, despite the previous sweating.

It appeared he wasn't the only one to suffer through whatever airborne toxin it was. He grew suspicious the desert tribes may have had a hand in it. A way to disway them in the night and turn them on themselves. It was effective and he knew wouldn't necessarily be beyond them. He ran towards the tent belonging to Karys and Azar.

Knocking out a few soldiers on the way to prevent them killing each other if he could. Others were not so fortunate as he was too late. He ran. He had to make sure they were alright, had to make sure Azar was.

@Sreeya @Apollyon @Rom @Phoenix

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar had fallen asleep in his husband’s arms not too long prior when the nightmares began. He began to shift in his sleep, distress clear in his face. Moments he sprang up clutching his head, mouth open in a silent scream. He was overwhelmed with memories, thoughts, guilt, all of it at once.

Azar saw his sister before them all, saw her standing ahead of him and blaming him for her death. He saw her corpse over and over again, hanging from that ceiling just as he had found her. Those vacant eyes. The same eyes he saw in his mother back at the Kressh fortress.

<I love another,> He heard Karys’ voice echo, <More than I could ever love you. I am walking away from this.>

He wanted to vomit, to reach out to Karys and beg him to stay, but the man already turned and left. He left with a woman and several children, the 'perfect life' as it was intended to be. He left as a Sadow, discarding the Kressh name. Karys stepped through a field of corpses of Azar’s family, of dead Kresshlings, the ground pooled with blood.

He saw many other corpses - of Trodai, of Vossari, of Trael. He saw both his acolytes butchered. He felt the severing of all his Force bonds, leaving him hollow and empty. He saw a vision of himself turning away in disappointment. He saw Azar Kressh looking back at him.

Pathetic. Exile is where you always belong.

Azar finally screamed out loud and came back to reality, his chest rising and falling rapidly and his body drenched in sweat. He turned to Karys, using the Force to yank him back to the present if he needed to, “Wake up, baby!” He snapped, rushing over to quickly get dressed as he heard panic and chaos outside their tent.

@Apollyon @Rom @Akheron

 

[Veltharion]

Veltharion, by virtue of his status as an academy acolyte, had been assigned a small folding cot in the large tent that served as the barracks for the war beast riders. The scouting mission had been successful and after reporting that the riverbank seemed safe for a campsite the Barabel had gladly eaten his food ration and then practically fell into the cot still wearing his armor and cloak, tail curling in close as he fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the bundled up cloak serving as a pillow.

Vel awoke to the sound of blaster fire and screaming, eyes snapping open to find himself in the warrens of the Bleeding Hollow Clan as the Trandoshans rappelled down from the hole their ship had blown into the mountainside; he could see the eggs and younglings crushed beneath the shattered stone, hear the wailing of the parents as they were gunned down trying frantically to move the rubble away from their young. The Acolyte let out a keening hiss as he felt the bond with his sister shatter like skyfire glass and surged to his feet, reaching for his spear and finding the sleek metal of his lightsaber instead. The warriors rushed into battle around him, swords and spears raised, but the blasterfire struck them like a rockslide of red and blue light and Vel could barely keep from sobbing as he felt the mind meld twist and scream with every death.

The Acolyte fought like a man possessed, the Force bending to his will as lightning and tongues of flame enveloped the attacking trandoshans, bursts of telekinetic energy ripping them off their feet and snapping necks. His lightsaber cleaved through armor and flesh like it was nothing, the spells of his forefathers honed by Sith teachings as he decimated the tailless scum. He was better armed, more powerful than he had been when the Trandoshans attacked and instead of being knocked unconscious he found himself victorious, standing amid a sea of Trandoshan corpses. Vel turned to check on his clan, mind reaching out for his other hatchmates, his mother, his friends.

Silence filled the grave the warren of the Bleeding Hollow Clan had become.

Veltharion had only a moment to realize that he was the only living being left in the cave when his eyes snapped open at the sound of blasterfire and screaming, clawed hands reaching out to catch falling stone and hurl them skyward toward the trandoshans craft. He threw himself into the battle ahead of his fellow warriors, lightsaber a burning red brand in the dark of the cave as he used his weapon and the Force to crush the Trandoshans, closing his mind to the deaths he could feel and fighting blind until the last trandoshan fell... and still the Clan was dead and Veltharion stood alone.

It didn't matter how hard he fought, how much power he wielded, the strength he brought to bear; it was never enough. *He* was never enough. Never strong enough, never fast enough, never powerful enough. His Clan died over and over again, their deaths flaying his mind apart with every broken meld bond, and Vel was left standing alone.

The Barabel clenched his hands into fists, his claws digging into his palm and drawing blood as helpless, impotent anger grew into a towering inferno. He stood among the wreck that had been his old life, helpless to change it, and raged. In the back of his mind he knew that something was wrong, could feel a pressure building in his chest and the roiling mass of power that he could call upon settled over his body like a cloak as the Hungry One turned its gaze upon him and spoke, a single word shattering the image of the warrens around him.

AWAKEN!

Vel opened his eyes and found himself looking up at a hulking Massassi warrior, hands wrapped around the Barabel's throat trying to choke the life from him. He moved before he was fully conscious of the act, his tail sweeping up to wrap around the slave soldiers throat and then tossing him away across the tent that had turned into a battlefield as soldiers screamed and wept and gnashed their teeth as they attacked one another with eyes clouded by some foul illusion. Grabbing his weapons, Veltharion reached out for any unclouded minds and brushed against Azar's presence in the Force. Extending the haft of his lightsaber pike, Veltharion left the weapon unlit and rushed forward for a gash cut in the tent wall, striking to try and knock the other soldiers out on the way as he raced to find and help protect the King.

"Longfang! Longfang, the camp iz overrun by this foul sorcery! What do we do?"

@Sreeya @Apollyon @Akheron @Phoenix

 

[Karys]

Karys felt his fingers tighten, the being beneath him struggled as it gasped for air. The writhing only made him grip tighter and press down until ragged breaths became strangled gurgles. He felt its hands on his forearms, its three fingered appendage slapped uselessly against him. He saw golden eyes bulging, a swollen tongue that lolled out of a broken jaw. And then Karys felt it.

CRACK

The familiar sensation of a windpipe being crushed. The wet crunch of bone and meat. He saw the creature’s face then, it was Azar. Karys’ eyes grew wide with horror as he looked down at his husband’s brutalized and broken body. Had he done this? But somehow, Karys already knew the answer to that, yes he had.

Karys rolled from his position on Azar’s chest and scooped his head up. It lolled loosely on a broken neck in Karys’ lap. He watched as Azar tried vainly to breathe, his mouth gulped at air until a croaking sound escaped his lips.

As Azar’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, Karys screamed in panic, in self-hatred, and loathing for what he’d done.

<Please gods no, Azar? Baby? Don’t leave! Come on!> He shouted as he shook the love he’d just murdered. <Don’t you fucking leave me!> He screamed. <Please, I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!> Karys wailed.

Karys stroked at his husband’s face, leaving streak’s of his own blood across it. Hot tears dotted his Azar’s dead flesh. Movement from somewhere behind him drew Karys’ attention. Through bleary eyes Karys saw the silhouette of his father, ancient Sith Sword in hand. Fear gripped him as a cruel grin etched across icy features. His father, Mav'ar Xivousius Tyvosi iv-Sadow, glared down at his prodigal son. He opened his mouth

“WAKE UP BABY!”

<Wha->

The smell of burning fabric wafted into his nose. His father spoke again.

“Longfang! Longfang, the camp iz overrun by this foul sorcery! What do we do?”

Karys felt his body being shaken as he was torn from the night terror by Azar. The sound of battle raged, Karys was startled, sweating, and exhausted. He blinked salt from his eyes as he gathered his senses.

<We have to break this hold. Rouse the Kissai. Their magicks can aid in breaking this curse.> Karys barked in his native tongue, not realizing the Barabel likely didn’t speak their language.

Karys’ hands fumbled for the hilt of Sadowbane. There was no time for thought, they had to act to survive this!

@Phoenix @Sreeya @Akheron @Rom