Open Ajan Kloss The Real Truth

Darth Stolas

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Sith Order
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Imperial Council

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Mr. Teatime
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Shots struck, a crimson bolt cleaving the droid pilot like fallen lightning through a particularly desperate and stubborn tree. The missile thundered against the side, blasting apart one of the engines and, based on what the starblade's sensors displayed, setting off the desired chain reaction. The shuttle crashed into the trees rather hard, and at this point he decided even if they hadn't died from all of that, it didn't matter. A dark and casually malicious chuckle briefly made its way across the comm line.

"Target down."

Morgan flew over and past the shuttle, slowing and coming around to begin a counter-clockwise scanner sweep of the temple area under Dante's control. He was apparently also just in time to catch Raze's duel with the Jedi woman. It drew the attention of golden eyes through the window, and the ship slowed further to watch. The Sith Lord moved well, as Morgan knew would, grace in every step and swing of his blade. A fanged grin flashed behind the helmet when it came to a one-handed grapple, iron fingers tight against the ship's controls.

Raze pulled the Jedi's arm and kept it for himself, a fluid motion that brought out another dark little laugh. In that instant of victory, with Dante handling the scanning, Morgan only had eyes for his soldier boy. He was focused on him, drawn in and enthralled by the sight, and soaking together in the haunted black of the Ajan Kloss temple Morgan even thought he could hear him speak. It sounded far away, like the echoes of birdsong and strumming strings, and after a second he realized the words must be real.


Raze spoke only truth, not pontificating on why he was better than the Jedi. His superiority was self-evident and victorious. The Jedi had asked who he was, and he answered. He told her what he'd done, descending upon the temple like blood red rain. He declared they would know him and kneel before him, and in the moment Raze brought the Jedi to her knees he could swear his heart fluttered in his chest. He commanded she spread the word of what she'd seen and experienced, that their destruction was inevitable, and then he smote her with a stroke of eldritch power and flung her from his sight.

Morgan Drast loved him all the more deeply and passionately for it, even if that burning flame was buried beneath layers of black armour and silvered skin. Raze, and only he, might well pick up a returning echo of that heat across the space that separated them just before the starblade sped up again to a normal scanning speed.


An X-wing, still powered up and ready, pinged in the same place it had been at last. Morgan flew off toward it, ion cannons firing into the vessel before it could power shields. The armour plates beneath the starblade parted and Morgan himself dropped out, slowing his fall to land atop the canopy in front of a very panicked-sounding astromech.

Without a word a lightsaber flew from his belt in hand and unceremoniously removed the astromech's head from it's barrel-shaped body, then was returned deactivated to the young Sith's belt. Morgan curled his gloved fingers, his will coiling around the machine and pulling it free from the socket. The astrogation buffer, like all data storage and ship interface parts, was located in the body chassis. The head was worthless and annoyingly talkative and would be left behind. He shouldered the rest of the droid and leapt back up into his ship, storing the metal barrel in the back by Dante who eyed it suspiciously.


"Retrieved an astromech from an X-wing. Not leaving the ship behind."

At which point he retreated to a safe distance using the starblade's repulsors, targeted the disabled vessel and, true to his word, fired his third proton torpedo into it. It was more than a little overkill, but it would reduce the starfighter- and the rest of the astromech's head- to scrap and slag. Tracks covered, not a hair out of place.



@Xian @Wit @Sreeya @Phoenix @GABA @Darasuum @Topher @Catbert
 

Algus Doll

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Flower
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He never had a mother.

Although he could remember her face, the nuances of her memory had dissipated with time. She had become a ghost shrouded in foggy snow-haze; a mystical being that he used to make up stories about. She had brown eyes, like him. His father used to say that a lot. She died when he was young over a few credits of debt. His father was afraid to protect her, and Master Silla had refused vengeance, a hallmark of the Jedi perhaps. Both of them were weak, and he was too. But not anymore. No, he was strong.

Strength lays in the ability to act, he saw that now. The Jedi did not.

His stare only left Raze for a moment as another Sith approached. His eyes watched her intently with wild dangerous fear. He was a scared, a cornered predatory thing. Soon afterwards, he could smell the burning flesh as his wounds began to cauterize, searing his bloodied stubs like roasted meat. Every muscle tensed in his body and his teeth clamped together with vice-like strength, emitting low growls and saliva from betwixt his teeth while he convulsed. Still, he said nothing.

Slowly, he felt the will of the force pulling him slowly behind the women, dirt and rubble stinging his mauled legs. Eventually, he offered her a simple nod, his rage dying down to a hot simmering darkness that lurked just beneath his every being. It gave way to an eerie calm. “This is just the beginning.” He whispered, letting her drag him like loose cargo across the battlefield.

Silently, he turned and stared at the forest with a blank stare, lips slightly parted in odd obsession, fixated on where he’d seen Master Oren leave them all to die.







@Phoenix @Sreeya
 
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