Amon Saulot

"Sorry I'm late, you wouldn't believe how hard it is to scrape frozen space monkeys off a starship hull, and the Hoth orbit is full of them. Someone must have have had a Monkey massacre up there." Amon, now thoroughly coated in thawing space monkey giblets, had arrived.

"You couldn't kill him even if you wanted to. Just as he can't harm us. There is powerful energy at work here, protective wards left behind by my father. I'm not sure exactly how they work, but given father's love of randomness, anything could happen." Amon apparently had passed out for some time, but now, in the embrace of one of his father's demon worlds, felt his energy returning and was able to move freely again.

Eldritch fire roared as the real was torn open for a second and Amon and the Jedi exorcist Damon tumbled out. Amon collapsed to his knees, the sheer amount of energy that he had expended between the battle, the healing, and the trip here was herculean. "Damon... needs... healing... Nurgle's rot...Arach'tar commander at Gromas slain."

"Malithas echita foulas-kor" Amon cursed under his breath. Somehow Nurgle always makes a mess of everything. Nurgle's rot was not just a disease like pox or an infection. It was a spiritual ailment that afflicted the person's very soul. It was in situations like this that the combination of Jedi healing and Tzeentchian sorcery came in handy. Eldritch blue flames came from Amon's left hand as he burned away the spiritual foulness of Nurgle from those present, save Exodus, who probably enjoyed the rotting sensation consuming him. Laying hands on Dominique, Amon probed with the light of the Force, scouring away the biological elements. Less than human, little could survive in the woman's black blood, so Amon's work moved swiftly. That left Ason. Eyes locked, twin wills clashing in an eternal dance, Amon said nothing. Fate had eternally bound them together for some unknown purpose that even Amon couldn't see. For now, he cleaned Ason's wounds in silence, the vast emptiness between them saying far more than any words. "Alliance command, be aware, we have a highly lethal viral agent on the bridge, quarantine the area and don't let any unprotected troops up here. I'm taking Damon to safe haven to get him cured." "Come on, brother, lets get you patched up." Amon didn't have the energy to heal Damon on the spot, having just healed two others, but he knew where he could take the ailing man. It was time to go home. Behind him the angel and the demon turned into an almost comical scene of blue horrors standing on each other in stacks, the illusion ended. The two blue horrors holding the axes got into an arguement over who's axe was bigger and shinier, until one cut the other in half, and all agreed that his axe was killier. Amon took a moment to gather a piece of Ikerra for Khorne before leaving. Using the last of his energy, Amon tore a hole in the real, into which the horrors went diving in. Amon carried Damon into the rift, taking him home. ((Amon's taking Damon to Yavin IV to cure him of Nurgle's rot.))

OOC((Dogfight goes to Gren, impresssive flying.)) ::A veritable plethora of powerful champions of the Force had finally come to bare on the avatar. Ikerra had managed to evade the brass skulls that Amon had willed at him, and had disappeared into the grating. What came next was like a cliche out of an action holovid. Amon knew that the next attack would come from behind, and gracefully rolled away to avoid being impaled. With so many fighters present, it was becoming difficult to find a window to attack. With everyone else on the offensive, Amon chose to take a support role, healing and protecting the fighters as they fought against the machine priest.:: ((Appologies on the short post, but its after 4 AM and we need to move on.))

War makes odd bedfellows To think that Amon was fighting next to his sworn enemy, an agent of decay and rot, was unexpected to say the least. But the Arach'tar had brought with them an unexpected development, a false god with powerful servants. In the past, Amon had fought within the confines of the mortal, physical world, relying only on his Jedi training to aid him, but this was different. This was holy war. It was time to put aside his mortal self and put on the mantle of the immortals. In essence it was time to reveal his true self. But who am I? That used to be such a simple answer, when he was younger. He was Amon Saulot, son of Tzeentch, surely destined to become a great mystic like his father. Then came the mortal world. Above Csilla he found a part of himself that had been hidden in the years spent reading books and scrolls. There was more to this man than contemplation and hidden knowledge. There was honor, and courage, and in time there was martial prowess. Since that battle, Amon had become a living dichotomy between the mystic and the warrior. It had taken constant Jedi training to reconcile the two, something that he could not do until he had trained to master rank. In their own way Khorne and Tzeentch had reconciled within him too, and complemented each other in unexpected ways. Tzeentch's hidden knowledge gave Khorne strategy, and Khorne's honor and courage gave Tzeentch newly found power. The sleeper has awakened Amon's body became consumed by fire of every shade and hue, as the physical was replaced by the spiritual. His left side became clad in armor of silver and dark blue, curved and elegant, seeming to bend and twist with impossible architecture, driving any who dwelled on it mad. Bizarre glyphs written with fire and gold wove complex wards and protections on the young prince. A mighty pinion of coruscating fire emitted from his back, bathing the room in the glow of blue fire. His gauntleted hand was consumed by the many fires of Tzeentch, each a weapon in their own right. His right side, the side that represented his devotion to the warrior path, became clad in armor of bronze and blood red. Where the left side was mystical in its application, the right was practical and tangible, heavy well tested steel. The boiling blood of past enemies dripped from the armor, burning any foolish enough to touch it. Over his right shoulder, a murder of burning bronze skulls bellowed and shouted warcries. In Amon's right hand was a sword forged in the fires of Khorne's own forge, a weapon that sought to draw blood and claim the skulls of worthy opponents. Flanking Amon were an angel of change and a demon of war, resplendant in the regalia of their respected gods, the angel as much living flame as a spirit, and the demon a towering houndlike beast with two terrible axes. Being divine meant never having to fight alone, although it was ironically his Jedi training that gave Amon the ability to channel both of the entities at the same time. With a dismissive wave, Amon sent the two entities at Ikerra, preceded by a flight of the burning bronze skulls that would strike with explosive force.

"Let's do this." Amon took Dominique's hand, ready to deliver justice to the invaders.

I arrived about the same time as you were wounded, from what I understand. At that point most of the Jedi were either incapacitated or falling back, so I had no choice but to engage the enemy in single combat. First I fought the warrior with the hammer, Kakuto Ryu. His strength and ferocity were overwhelming, but the Force was my ally, and I defeated him. At that point my body was broken, but Master Organa healed me. After I was sufficiently recovered, I engaged the Sith assassin, Exodus, in single combat. He was powerful, but I think that the battle had worn him down by the time we fought. I managed to break his mental focus and pin him down, and then I defeated him. Onderin's men have resecured the base and Master Organa has driven out the vile Sith corruption.

:: Amon found the head of the order among the robotic spiders that they used as war machines. He adressed them respectfully.:: Masters Darkfire, I have come to report in from Gala.

::Amon arrived at Illum in his Jedi starsword fighter, landing at the base to meet with the other Jedi. He exited his ship and headed to the rendez-vous area.::

::An encrypted comm arrived at Manaan from Gala.:: Good news from the battlefront, the Sith attack has been successfully thwarted. I defeated Kakuto Ryu and Exodus in personal combat, and Master Organa is working on healing the Dark Side corruption that the Sith inflicted. The day is ours. And my congratulations on your wedding, masters Draygo and Darkfire, may the gods smile upon you.

It will, thank you, Raitaro. I am bound for Funestus, but afterwards I'm going to link up with the Jedi again. This is just something that needs to be done. ::Amon takes the severed head of Haphaestus and departs Manaan in a Starsword fighter, destination Funestus.::

I want the armor itself just to protect key points, it will be worn over an armoured bodyglove, I favour maneuverability over heavy armor. Also, I obviously want it to integrate with your gauntlets. Also, if you could work psychoconductive crystal veins into it, that would be great. Finally, know helmet. The helmet will come when I travel to Funestus.

::Haphaestus had conjured some kind Dark Side cloud that he planned to overwhelm Raitaro with, a foul mass of darkness, lightning and fire. It would have worked if Raitaro was alone. It seemed as if the man droid couldn't seem to calculate that it was fighting multiple opponents. Amon added his own will to Raitaro's enhancing the shield and pushing it forward. Together, the two Jedi pushed the storm of darkness right into Haphaestus's face. NOW! yelled Amon to the rebel sergeant with the DEMP gun, and the man unleashed a blast from the weapon that hit the man droid square on, stunning it. Capitalizing on the window of opportunity, Amon once again closed the distance, and with unerring accuracy slammed his fist into the already wide hole of his last blow. Go to Hell! he shouted as eletrical energy scoured the droid's circuits destroying them utterly. In a Force empored over the shoulder throw, Amon threw the smoking droid on the ground and put both hands on the demonic biomass, incinerating it entirely in a blaze of silver and blue fire. All that remained was a smoking ruin.:: Lets find a workshop to fix Ichi and smelt this abomination down, I feel the need for new armor. ::An hour later, all that was left of Haphaestus was the molten orange of melted metal, soon to be reconsecrated as armor in fight against darkness.:: ((Mod approved 3hk.))

::Whether the Sith master was too occupied with Ichi, or simply wasn't as good as Nurgle claimed, Amon didn't know, but somehow the idiot had managed to miss the arrival of the Jedi and his commandos. The commando sergeant readied the DEMP gun while silently and virtually invisbily closed the gap to Haphaestus. It was different this time. Unlike when Amon had fought Oblivion on the rebel command ship, Amon wasn't afraid. Khorne's eyes were upon him as he channeled the Force into his blow. Unlike the Sith, who coerced and prodded the Force into doing things around them, Amon, like most Jedi, used his own body as a conduit for the Force to act through him. The strike that followed was devastating, inhumanly powerful, and capable of shattering durasteel. But the physical power of it was only the tip of the iceberg. The true power of the hit was in the realms of energy and spirit. Amon had exhibited early on a talent for absorbing and draining energy, and he called upon this talent to drain the powerstores inside of the mandroid, slowing down its movements immensely. The final element of the attack was the reaction between Haphaestus's Nurgle corrupted flesh and Amon's divine form. While the putrescent biomass may have served Haphaestus as a source of dark power in the past, now it served as combustable fuel to the fire of Amon's divine soul. Blue and silver flames coursed across it under the broken armor. The cost of evil deeds finally catching up with the abomination.:: Were you a man I would tell you that I was releasing you back to the cycle to be healed of taint and darkness, but abomination, are nothing but taint and darkness. You will find no salvation, only the seven thousand hells of Nurgle.