Mavanger

Mordecai could respect that course of action. An invasion wouldn't end in a day, why use all your resources like it would? The frigate Fury took the lead on his task force's advance, being careful not to be separated from the Herløv. There was a pitched anticipation deep in his gut- A lesser man would succumb to the fear that gnawed with the whispers at the edge of his psyche. Instead, he embraced it. Used it to sharpen his perception, his body's primal reactions to danger serving him, rather than the other way around. He noticed things he'd usually miss. Smells, colors, sounds. The calm breathing of the experienced Captain, the faster breathing of an ensign trying to hide his fear. Mordecai strode forward, placing his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Embrace your fear. Control it, do not be the one controlled." He glanced out the observation glass. "Open fire on Lady Darksong's command."

Mordecai stood upon the bridge of the Wyvern, his Victory II command ship, watching the Imperial defenders scramble, like they were an anthill that the boot of the Sith had kicked. The ships under his command were battle-ready, of course. His inexperience would not bring them defeat. The officer at his side, a Captain Maran Jarvus, gave him pointers. After his battle with the Imperial Knights at Borleais, of which the fresh pink scars and slowly regrowing hair here a reminder of, he had swallowed his pride. The man knew his place, but had received Mordecai's express permission to teach him as he saw fit, although he was not to give commands himself unless the Sith was incapacitated. "They're positioning their corvettes to screen for fighters. Doing the same will protect the Wyvern and the Herløv, and I would recommend doing to until we see what their fleets are capable of." Mordecai nodded, giving the command with a wave of his hand. There were whispers in the Force here. Curious; Perhaps the Jedi were present, though he doubted he would sense them from this far away with his training. Something else, perhaps? He would ask Quela of it after the battle, but for now he would focus. They soon received a communique, a warning. He chuckled softly. He maintained radio silence. If Quela would like to start the battle here and now, he would let her. He, instead, waited, as he'd done before, over Coruscant and over Borleais. He was not passive, though he didn't mind being perceived as much. They would hold formation and match the Herløv's speed, awaiting for the opportune moment. He sent a simple message to his master. "I am ready. Shall we begin?"

Mordecai's Task Forces https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jO3A02gNxiKS0VJllP5LSNDeb8xHVsioDBaQSwhPmVg/edit?usp=sharing

When Mordecai woke, he was suspended in a bacta tank, his body aching from the burns he'd received. He didn't need to remember what happened to know he'd failed. Though there was a lesson to be had. He'd lost his composure- his bladework became sloppy. He knew the Sith were ones to give into their emotions, but he could find a better way to channel them. He was stuck here regardless- If he was awake, he could function. But someone would have to drain the tank, and while he might've been able to shatter the glass, it was probably not the best idea, given that he didn't know who's ship he was on.

Mordeci had been around sorcerers on Korriban, shaping the force for their dark magics.There was a similar sensation here, the force shaping in an unatural way, though it lacked the dread and anger that filled the Sith homeworld. He pushed forward, launching a wave of force at the Knight followed by a savage flurry of blows one after another with reckless abandon, with the side effect of the powder on the floor becoming possible collateral damage, but the apprentice was not so lucky, falling to Ishmael's blade. On the other front, the second apprentice quickly fell to Cassandra's focused attacks, unable to keep up with the clearly superior fighter. The lords, on the other hand, renewed their attacks with an angered fervor at seeing their apprentices cut down. The first lord swung low, the second swung high from the opposite direction. The first swung to the gut, and the other sweeped for the legs, their strikes aided by the force, made powerful by their anger. ((3))

Mordeci sneered. Ishmael's question had hit a nerve. The Imperial Knights were a shadow of what could be. Even the Jedi were more concise and true to their belief than these fools. "In another life, I may have been one of your own. But now I am your foe, and your doom." He parried the first two attacks, moving back and out of the Knight's reach to avoid the third. As the apprentice pushed the Knight back, he charged, and Mordecai ducked behind the aggressive fighter, hidinghis sillouette and his own approach. As the apprentice swung savagely at the Knight's midriff, Mordecai darted out, sending blows from above and below with each of his lightsabers. Once, twice, backstep. The Lords and the other apprentice continued their attacks, brushing off her counter attacks with ease with practised unison. Whenever she opened her defense to strike at one, the other would step in with his own counter. The apprentice merely circled, staying behind her and waiting for a chance to strike.

Mordecai was disappointed that he didn't get to kill the upstart Empress. Even when he was an Imperial citizen, he'd never liked her. He briefly wondered where his siblingswere- they'd been stationed on Onderon when the Sith attacked, and the Empress had left them to die, more than likely. He held no illusions that the Sithcared any more for his life than a slave's, but at least his fate was in his hands, not that of beuaracrats and half-addled officers who gained their power though nepotism and ass-kissng. The Dark Lord's orders triumphed any of his own ideas, though. At least for now. Still, he could kill her guards. He'd been sizing them up since they'd entered, and he was confident. Watching them engage the others, it was clear they were adept at working as a team. he'd need to seperate them. Divide and conquer. Two of the lords and an apprentice rushed Cassandra, lightsabers flaring. The Lords launched a coordinated attack, launching simultaneous blows from the left and the right, while the apprentice circled behind to flank the Knight. Mordecai drew his own weapons, their blue blades mocking the Jedi. One pilfered from thedefeated form of a Jedi, the other claimed from a Jedi long fallen to the Dark Side. He tested Knight Ismael's defenses with his blades, giving a light swing in a downwards arc, leaving his second blade open to block if neeeded. The apprentice behind him unleashed a waveof energy, trying to push Ishmael against the far wall ((Post 1/3 Mordecai + Honor Guard vs Knight Ishmael and Knight Cassandra))

Mordecai understood his purpose here. It was one of a bodyguard, of the meek follower, and it was a part he'd play, for now. His moment to prove himself would come, all he needed was patience. Provoking a powerful woman like Qeala was a bad idea, to say the least. Still, it was a learning opportunity. He didn't have time to properly discuss with her, but he was sure the time for that would come. The sensors informed them it was time to begin, and he followed Lady Darksong dutifully, taking up a position behind her. As the negotiations began, he remained standing. He listened, and thought. The woman who deigned herself Empress was a child, really. She was barely older than he was, and yet she'd rallied entire armies behind her. A foolish gesture, to be sure, but fools could still impress. He eyed the Imperial Knights. He'd been briefed on them by his more experienced security officers. Force wielders who fought for the false throne. Trained warriors. In the heart of a Sith Star Destroyer, they were dismiss-able threats. Before the Dark Lord? They would become irrelevant. Still, he was here to protect Lady Darksong, and so he watched. His hands stayed near his lightsabers, one from Korriban, the other pilfered from a defeated foe, but they never touched. He would not start the aggression, but his stature would hopefully inform the knights of his watchfulness.

Mordecai arrived on the Herløv shortly before the rebels did. He knew he was going to meet the Lady Darksong later than expected, but he had a fleet to run. Defensive strategies to discuss with his officers as well as proving to the troopers that he was worthy to command them. While the latter may have been less important, since no officer would ever disobey a Sith, he'd seenjust how effective troops could function if they trusted their commander. His venture had been semi-successful. Most of the officers trusted him with command of their ships now, though a few of the higher ranked crew still had concerns. He'd missed the chance to prove himself over Coruscant, and it was showing. Still, he couldn't put off meeting the Sith that commanded him any longer. The rest of his duties would have to wait. When helanded, he was escorted to the bridge of the Star Destroyer, where he would finaly meet the Nightsister. "Lady Darksong, it is an honor to finally meet you. I am Mordecai, apprentice to Lord Valinor. Have we heard from the Rebels yet?"

Mordecai received his orders and sent a simple affirmative to relay his compliance. This was tricky ground for him- He was no longer under the protection of Lord Valinor, but if hebehaved like a meek dog he'd be treated as such. And while he saw value in being underestimated, he also had a lust for recognition. For status. And so while he yearned to join the battle and prove himself worthy to the Dark Lord, he knew this task was more important than one battle for one planet. Quela Darksong had been commisioned by the Dark Lord himself, which meant that his assignment held likely more value than this battle. So he would comply. He'd whet his thrist for conflict on another battlefield, and whether tht battlefield was in war or through diplomacy, he would strive to accomplish his goals. It was a short order to align his vessels, and when he was ready he accessed the communications. "This is Mordecai. My ships are in position. We'll jump on your mark"

Mordecai was in position to support his new commander, though he had yet to meet her or hear what she had in mind. He'd been given command of a small task force. He was being reserved for now, waiting for his chance to strike, and without coordination from the woman he was supposed to serve. He would wait for her to contact him, but in the mean time, he stood on the bridge of the cruiser he was commanding. He'd been taken aback, at first, that he'd been given command of so many ships so early, but he guessed that it was just the perks of aiding one so important. His inaction was not to be mistaken for cowardice, however, as the officers and captains under his commander feared. He was watching. The Crusaders were on the defensive now, and he'd noted a certain... bloodlust among the practitioners of the dark side, himself included. They'd get aggressive, and leave themselves open to a sufficiently planned counter attack. He was waiting to see if their foes took that opportunity. And when they did, he'd be there with a fresh task force to stop them.

Mordecai was caught off guard by her words. Victory, yes, but still failing. He wasn't one to question, however. Not yet, at least. If she was giving him a chance to redeem himself, he'd take it. "Of course, my Lord. I will return when my task is complete." And with that, he left her. It was much more brief than he'd anticipated, but maybe that was for the better. He had a feeling the longer he spent around the Lords in his current state, the more dangerous it would be for him. Finding the Dathomiri wasn't hard- she traveled with an entourage, evidently. Finding a chance to speak, however, was not as easy. she seemed to be in the middle of an important conversation, and he wasn't one to ease drop on people who could kill him easily. After she was done, though, he approached, bowing respectfully. "Quela Darksong, I presume? I am Mordecai. Lord Valinor has tasked me with aiding you in your duties. How may I be of service?" he asked, straightening himself as he did do.

She nodded. She'd never seen her father without his lightsaber. It was part of why she always had it on her. A little part of him to hold onto, to remember. She stashed the weapon back in her robes, stepping behind him cautiously as she walked. Thee were a lot of people here, and she didn't want to get lost again. "Yeah, it's broken. I don't know what the issue it- I don't even know how it works yet. I was hoping the Jedi could help me. I know I'm Force-sensitive, but I don't know how to use it aside from moving some things. All of this, it's new to me. How long have you been a Jedi?" she asked, looking at him.

Mordecai stepped into the arena, a robotic arm resting in his grasp, and a second lightsaber resting on his belt for the time being. He was no stranger to parties, but this one seemed to have devolved into a brutal fistfight. He smirked. It seemed the Sith troops held up to the same reputation as their masters. His goal for now however was to find Lord Valinor, his master. She was likely awaiting his return, to judge his progress and his deeds. He hefted his trophy over his shoulder, looking around cautiously. He could see members of her legion mingling in the crowd, so it wasn't unlikely she was nearby. He heard whispers and tales of others' deeds and accomplishments in the battle. Dead Jedi, wrecked ships, and slaughtered troops; to hear it from the troops, the battle was a resounding success. But he knew there was likely more to it. The Scarab had been forced to retreat, and without support, the station may have fallen. He knew nothing of this conflict or the Dark Lord's strategy, but losing a station and sustaining heavy damage to the Scarab was likely not the plan. Still, it wasn't his position to judge the war. Not yet, at least. He'd go where he was told, for now.

Mordecai was impressed. The cyborg's limbs were stronger than he anticipated. She stopped the first attack, but the second hit with such force that it knocked the first saber from her hand. While she reeled, the third strike severed on of the prosthetic arms. A kick sent her to the ground, and he stepped forward, standing over her prone form. His victory was short lived, however. He could feel a surge in the force, and when he turned to look, he saw several jedi in retreat right towards him. He didn't have time to finish her off... and he hesitated to do so regardless. For now, the arm would do. He scooped it up, and pulling on one of the lightsabers with the Force, he moved to retreat. He looked back once he reached the edge of the hanger, fading into the dark, watching as the returning jedi swarmed over their fallen comrade. She'd be up shortly, and they'd be looking. He couldn't fight that many. He ducked into the corridor he entered from. The station shook again and he grimaced. He had to get off the station. He stepped into the hanger, rallying the troops behind him and into the shuttle. "We're done here. Time to get back to the Scarab." The return trip was considerably less hectic than the first. The fighters seemed less preoccupied with transports retreating from the battle than ones joining the fray. Not to mention that the fighters had thinned considerably. The fighting had been fierce so far, and fighters were often the first to go he'd heard. Still, he couldn't help but sigh in relief when they finally landed. That relief was short lived, however, as he realized his position. He'd failed. Well, technically he'd succeeded, he'd defeated the Jedi, but he didn't finish her. He took a trophy, but he doubted that would matter. Nor did he think that his master would care for technicalities.

Mordecai was well accustomed to dueling with blades. He wasn't surprised she'd seen through his feint, and was prepared for it. What he wasn't accustomed to, though,was dueling an opponent versed in the Force. The blast caught him unawares, and he flew backwards. He remembered the lightsaber though, and barely turned his body out of the way to avoid a severed limb. He didn't avoid the hit though, and he got a deep cut across him back as he tumbled along the ground. He rolled to his feet, reigniting his lightsaber as he stalked forward. He was angry now, and in pain. His earlier demeanor had shifted and he prowled on towards the dual blades and their wielder. He could feel the force roil around him, agitated by his emotions. He reached for it, and it dulled his pain. He sprinted forwards, letting out a roar of a battle cry as he swung savagely towards Aleria's face. Then again at her torso, and again at her arms. He forsook defense, in favor of an unrelenting offensive barrage of attacks. (3)

Mordeci smiled sweetly in the blue and lavender light given off by their blades, silently chastising himself for the blunder of missing her personal light. He'd see if she'd be so smarmy after he cut her to ribbons. He wouldn't make such a mistake again, regardless- her second blade was missing. A foolish choice; Whatever she planned to accomplish with that, she'd have been better off keeping it with her. He could feel her use of the force. It was faint, but it let him know approximately where the blade was. He stepped between her and the blade as he broke away from the first engagement. He lunged forward, feinting with a light thrust towards her left shoulder. It was a simple move, but a dangerous one if unanswered. He was relying on her knowing that, but even if she didn't know or didn't care, he was confident he could disengage again. One of the worst mistakes to be made in a duel is over-committing without clear victory within the aggressor's duel. Right now, it was about finding the weaknesses in her guard, in her form. And if he managed to make a lethal or incapacitating blow in the meanwhile, even better.

Mordecai had barely made it out of the hanger when the station came under another barrage of fire. As the lights and the other systems failed, Modeci smiled to himself. That could be useful. He drew his lightsaber, waiting to ignite it until he needed to. He still lacked 'proper' sith garb, but he doubted people would care. Only a madman or a soldier would be as close to the battle as he was going to get. He stalked through the halls, an ominous air about him as he pondered his task. Kill a jedi. That would be dangerous, but the path to the Dark Side would be filled with danger. Skirting from his duty now would not do him any favors. It didn't take long to find signs of battle. Bodies, lined against the walls. Blast marks in the bulkheads. Death permeated the air. He was close. His footsteps echoed through the halls as he stalked his prey. Jedi. He could sense them. They were swarming with republic troops, though he could sense the panic in the Force. The lack of a life support bothered them, it seemed. He thought for a moment. A station this large likely had backups, and even if it didn't, they would likely still have are for over an hour. He stepped into the hangar, lowering his head and pushing past the panicking mass and he made his way towards the Jedi. He looked up, and he met her eyes, a grin spreading across his face. She had two lightsabers? That could be a problem. He'd have to keep track of both. He reached up with his free hand, towards the dim light in the hangar, crushing it with the Force as his hand formed a fist. "Tell me, Jedi. Do you fear what lurks in the dark?" he asked, stalking through the darkness carefully, watching the glow of her lightsabers to keep track of her. He circled to her right, his anticipation building as he readied himself for this fight. He launched forward, swinging the hilt of the lightsaber towards the Jedi's arm, igniting it mid-swing in an attempt to conserve his advantage until the last possible moment in an attempt to sever or seriously damage the limb, hoping to gain an early advantage. The movement was quick and brutal, lacking all of the finesse that one would expect from a lightsaber combatant. ((Post 1 of Mordecai vs Aleria))

Mordecai nodded gravely. He had barely left training, and already he was tasked with killing a Jedi. As much as he'd liked to have lied to himself, tell himself it would be nothing, he knew the task was no small one. Not for him, at least. Regardless, he motioned for a nearby squad to follow him to his personal dropship. "It will be done, my lord." he said, turning and heading towards the ship. Once on board, the troopers in their seats, he seated himself in the pilot's chair. He didn't trust anybody but himself to fly them through that battle out there, even if Lord Valinor had assured him they'd make an opening. The shuttle lifted, and launched out of the hanger at his command, falling in directly behind a squadron of fighters. Ahead, he could see the hellish area that swarmed with the bulk of the fighters. And to get to the station, he'd have to fly right through it. His comms beeped, and with the push of a button a voice spoke. "Just fly right through it, my lord. We'll keep anyone who tries to stop you busy." He nodded, though the motion was mostly to himself. "Very well. Good luck." With that, he flew into the hornet's nest. All around him was chaos. Death and destruction permeated here, and e reveled in it. However, this skirmish was not his goal. He put the transport into a dive to avoid a hostile fighter, followed by a hard bank to the left to avoid a torpedo not meant for him. A few lasers hit the shields, but the aggressor had to pull away as several Sith fighters swarmed it. A few moments later, and they were through. All that lay between him and the station now was the blackness of space. He landed in the hanger, watching as a Jedi assault shuttle bore into a nearby section of the hull. He sneered. The Jedi. He stalked out of the transport, the squad already disembarked. They had taken fire when he landed, but the few troops inside seemed to have been dispatched by the squad. "Stay here. Wait for the rest of the troops. Keep this hanger secure." With that, he departed the hanger. It was time to hunt a Jedi. Edit: Continuity error, dropships changed to assault shuttles

Mordeci hadn't noticed the Dark Lord's presence. Not at first. It had been so ineffably powerful that he didn't realize the growing power on the edges of his mind until Valinor told him of its existence, writhing like a mass of shadowy snakes that were coiled to strike. His hand drifted to his lightsaber almost instinctively. Whoever the Dark Lord was... He was dangerous. More dangerous than anyone he'd want to encounter here, in the past, or in the near future. And yet, here he was, on this warship. In the midst of a battle he knew nothing about. Suddenly, he felt like a child. He knew not the power he toyed with, not as these Sith Lords did. If he were to make his mark, he would need to learn. Before him, as Lord Valinor motioned, he took in the troops' emotions. Pride, anticipation at the battle to come, mixed with the sickly sweet fear of death. He feflt power, though it seemed to pale in comparison to the Dark Lord's. He turned to face Lord Valinor, eager to prove himself worthy to be called a sith, like those around him. "You say the Jedi are coming. Where will they strike? I shall meet them in battle. I shall wet my blade with their blood."

Mordecai gazed in awe at the sight before him. A super star destroyer, up close. He'd seen them before, on Carida as a child, but that had always been from the surface. Now there was one before him, several times larger than even the city he'd grown up in. Even so, however, with all its might and glory before him, he was skeptical. Yes, an SSD was powerful, a weapon of fear as much as it was a weapon of strenght, but it was a double edged sword. Expensive, and a target. What it had in fear, if it were destroyed it would give just as much hope to their enemies. It was slow and cumbersome, as well, and susceptible to a number of strategies As they boarded, Mordecai fell behind his master. Clearly this was the flagship... but who was in command? "My lord, who commands this vessel?" he asked. Whoever it was had to be important. Either an officer of the highest prowess, or another sith lord, and likely a dreadfully powerful one at that.

Mordeci followed his new master's instructions, settling down and closing his eyes, trying to meditate. He focused himself, tried to reach out, but something wasn't clicking. He called on the force, and it answered, but how to hide himself was beyond him. it wasn't as intuitive as merely moving things with the force was. Before he could go any further. They were interrupted, however, by a timid man, careful not to tread to heavily, as though the ground were covered in landmines primed to kill. His master's humor was infectious, if dark. He did not guffaw, or chuckle, but he appreciated the humor. He had never been known for his sense of humor though, even on Carida. The man's message, however, was a humorless one. They were going to war, and he was little more than an acolyte with rudimentary training with a blade and the force. Indeed, he felt more at home with a blaster as of now than he did the new weapon that he held in his hand. And yet, he was meant to be better than this. He wasn't a foot soldier in someone else's war, like his brothers were. He would be a foe to be reckoned with. And this was his chance to prove himself, for better or for worse. He followed the Sith Lord closely, keeping his head down. He had heard stories of how the Sith treated their rivals, and he would like to slip under their radars for as long as possible. If his pathetic attempt to fight Valinor was any indication of how'd he fare against a proper Jedi or Sith, he'd have to pick his targets carefully. He would stay by his master's side, to be sure however. He doubted she would save him if he got in trouble regardless of where he was, but he had no intention of picking a fight he couldn't handle. Then again, most people who die in wars never do. He boarded the shuttle behind Lord Valinor, looking out over Korriban as it rose, the legions of Sith soldiers and warriors preparing for the conflict. It was an epic spectacle, one that would strike fear into the hearts of their enemies. Still, there was a question on his mind as they departed the planet. "My Lord, where will the fight be?"

Mordeci looked up. Was he surprised? Indeed he was. Was he in disbelief, however? No. He believed that the dark side wascapable of such feats. He took her hand, though it was more of a formality, as he rose on his own. "The warrior's way is brutish. It lacks the delicate touch sometimes required. It is like a club. Dangerous, yes. But also predictable. Used with little or no thought. Sometimes, all you need to kill is the general, and the army falls apart. I will become an assassin. The scalpel of death, rather than the club. His mind raced, thinking of what was to come. He was to become Sith, now. If his luck and skill held up, he would perhaps ven become a Lord. But that was in the future. "What do I do now?

Mordecai nodded dutifuly. He had indeed never heard of the Sith lords that his teacher had mentioned. His legacy would not be one of triumph and glory, but of quiet whispers. He wouldn't be a man. He would be a myth. The boogeyman that mothers told their children about to scare them into behaving. The other sith would wonder who, if anyone, he was. A person? Or a title, passed on from generation to generation? Deathless? Perhaps dead long ago. Maybe this Sith's legacy would be one of order, and security. But powerful sith had enemies, he was sure. If not in the Jedi, then in other sith, looking to claim that power for their own. His resolve stronger than ever before, he turned to the lord, kneeling. "Teach me the ways of the Sith..." He was silent for a moment. This would be his final chance to back out. To die now, uncorrupted, as it were. But that was not what he came here to do. "...My lord"

Mordecai was silent for a moment, contemplating the question and the Sith's earlier lesson regarding the statues. Indeed, a legacy of death, pain, destruction and dispair was easily forgotten as soon as someone caused more than their predecessor. Perhaps... perhaps that was not the way to become a legend in the Sith. What would be a lasting legacy, however, escaped him. From what he had been told, what else was there for a sith to build a legacy on? He spoke these thoughts inquisitively. "You tell me a legacy of death is not sufficient. These ruined statues are proof of that fact. That leaves me quesioning, however, what is a Sith to build a legacy on, if not death and fear and hatred?" he asked. He glanced back at the Sith. He was painfuly aware that if he failed this test, he'd die here. He wouldn't even be an acolyte, and he'd have failed. This fear of failure filled him with more strength, however, than any complacency that would have filled him in a less brutal enviornment.