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Showing content with the highest reputation on 06/01/2021 in Posts

  1. It was a battle of darkened hearts, Mythos driven by hatred and disgust of the Sith and their magicks, his opponent driven by disgust and disdain by any that he felt beneath him. Both had fallen into the frenzy of the primordial, and both had succumbed to it, Mythos likely lesser than his opponent, but it would still taint his heart nonetheless. Only he had yet to realize the consequences nor the permanent mark he would receive as a reminder, their fates intertwined in this singular moment as their battle continued. Feeling the shift of his opponent's form and weight against his attack, his gaze shifted toward the bladed hand as the enemy swept it toward his head, causing Mythos to veer away and hinder his full attack. Coldness swept atop his head and a burning sensation soon took it's place, a portion of his scalp and ear removed to reveal the skull that laid beneath. As soon as Mythos felt the ground beneath his feet again, the onslaught of cold wind began to accumulate and rush against him as the blade continued it's assault, Mythos upon the retreat. This enraged the Shistavanen even more, his armor growing cold against the blows until the fur and skin beneath became burnt with frost, using his hands and arms to protect against full contact. Unarmed and on the defensive was not where he wanted to be, especially against a Sith, the reminders upon his back and now his head burning in remembrance as his blood boiled even more. And then came the contact, the Sith grasping as his arm as he felt it begin to freeze and his energy began to wane. "No." Mythos grumbled as he fought against the cold that sought to overtake him. "It will not end like this. I refuse." Mythos eyes glazed over in his weakened state, a glaze of complete anger where tunneled vision is the only course of action, basic instincts and attack of a primordial beast. Reaching out with prosthetic arm Lady Sandy had graced him with on Nar Shadaa, he grasped the Cyromancer's bladed hand and squeezed tightly, an almost frightening smile adorning his snout and chops as he opened his maw once more and went for the Sith's carotid artery. Now it would be over, one way or the other. If he was to die this day, this Sith was coming with him. ((3: Great Duel bro, no matter the outcome. Mod is of your choosing.)) Actions: Avoided Inmortos' Stillblade, but at the cost of being partially scalped. Has several onsets of frostnip and superficial frostbite in unarmed defence. Grasped Inmortos' bladed hand in defiance before lunging open mouthed at his carotid artery.
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  2. Inmortos eyed the wolf even as he righted himself, his pulsating blade still in hand. The freezings mists rolled from the activated blade about the Sith mage. His gaze did not falter, his vision following the swift movements of the wolf. It was due to this evil-fueled gaze that Inmortos saw as the moving blur of fur and fang tossed an explosive into the air overhead. The sorcerer’s lips twisted in a smile of evil glee. The dog was rushing his encircling array of razored spears and shards of ice. The fool. As the explosive detonated overhead, Inmortos winced, his eyes squeezing shut out of some bit of primal survival reaction still carried in his decrepit and defiled form. And as his sight was obliterated in the moment, ending his continual glare of disdain, the Sith laughed. It was a deep rasping cackle of glee that carried over the battlefield; magnifying as the wolf threw itself onto the spears of ice. He could taste the blood in the wind-whipped air. Like a dog, this rebel had thrown himself forward, unable to calculate a safer path to it’s goal. So focused on it’s rabid intent that it did not care what could befall it before such a task could be completed. With his vile saber in hand, Inmortos lashed out. He did not need his eyes to see, for he was a creature of thebdarkness, a servant of the black eternal abyss. His was the vision of the ancients. His was the vision of the gods. His was the vision of the darkest realms of the force and it was this that he allowed to speak to what remained of his tattered and shriveled soul. Twisting Inmortos, drove his saber forwards into the storm of emotions that painted his attacker. He directed a broad sweep and stab of his black blade of despair towards the dog’s maw. He was not a bone to be chewed upon, cast away from the master’s table. He was the master, this battlefield his table, and this dog an infidel to be put down. Even so, the dog’s claws raked against Inmortos’ arm. It was a touch. It was pain. The dark man’s flesh split beneath the canine’s rabid talons. The touch, the pain, was all he needed. The dark energies of the force rejoiced in their servant’s pain. Inmortos’ face twisted in pain and rage. How dare this dog touch him again! Inmortos’ blade flurried blindly against the wolf, the winds of the gale surging once again to try and drive him back unto the spears of death. The wolf’s claw-filled paw that raked the sorcerer’s arm were met by the touch of icy flesh. Inmortos own hand, the one free of the saber, came down atop the muscled tendons and fur of the dog, the deepest recesses of the force pouring forth their storehouses. From the lowest depths of hell, Inmortos called the absoluteness of nothingness. No heat, no life, pure still death. With a touch, Inmortos loosed these powers unto the world, their frigid grasp expanding, seeking to draw the wolf into their gasp, a frozen statue, breath sapped from his body, life imprisoned for eternity in a moment of time. Rapidly these tendrils exuded outward, seeking whatever they might touch, so as to entomb whatever fell to their grasp in an eternity of timeless ice and death. ((3)) ((ACTIONS: -was blinded by the flash grenade, but guided by the force and close proximity of Mythos’ raw emotions. -moved his saber to intercept Mythos’ bite attack to simultaneously seek to skewer Mythos in the face. -Used a blast of wind coupled with some indiscriminate slashes of his saber to try and drive Mythos back into the spikes from last round. -Received lacerations to the arm from Mythos’ claws, using the skin to skin contact to try and freeze Mythos via a direct touch attack of Creeping Doom.))
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  3. "Our war, dear Telperiën." Exodus corrected with a show of his hands, sweeping towards the ominous display of fiendish warriors before him, slowly slipping from the yawning shadows that drowned the chambers thickly. “Our enemies long since declared a bold order for ethnic cleansing, becoming an immediate threat towards all who bathed in the power of the force. A galactic alliance that would have taken everything from us; burning our sacred texts, defiling long-standing temples of worship, and chasing our ancestral power into a thing of the past. Absolute extinction is what they wished upon us, never forget the face of such things, the Nightsisters understand this far better than most.” She drew stronger now in her maturity, Exodus had much to reveal to her yet, nuances that would show itself in the form of his first holocron ever doctored towards a singular entity. The one that followed by her side— a student of the dark without a doubt, one that exuded a measure of enthusiasm in the emotions buried deep within him, such power unearthing by the second in tangible waves. Another warrior for the Sith Empire. Just behind the Emperor, the rear stone wall of the chamber jittered loose and began to descend into the floor to reveal an open-space landing zone. As soon as the wall separated, the eerie silence of the room, only previously echoing the words of the Anzati warlord and the golden Nightsister, now filled with a loud burning of thrusters. Several vessels in plain sight anchored themselves to the zone, with many other craft patrolling the skies, or departing for relayed coordinates. "Come. We leave for Felucia. Telperiën, you and your student will assume command over the transports, the strength of our naval forces are to remain unrevealed until I give word. We move in with but a whisper, the storm will follow." Exodus turned now for departure, with the wild orchestra of powerful savages at closing in on him.
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