Mythos

Chapter 1: Awakening As the machines reading his vitals began to blare their alarming notifications, Coresec nurses began to rush to his side. His unknowing gaze shot around the room in a panic as one slid in a syringe of something into his IV, his parched throat gagging upon the slinder tube that reached into the depths of his lungs. He tried to reach for her in this moment of chaos, but as the orderlies restrained him, the peacefulness of unconsciousness once again took away his mind. When he awoke again, most of the mechanics that littered the room were gone, and all was noticeably more calm. He went to sit up when a soft and kind hand reached for his own and a soft almost childlike voice resonated with his heavy form. "Don't try and sit up, Gemini. You're safe. You've been out for months." Confusion littered his mind as he tried to comprehend the moment he existed within. Who was Gemini? Who was the voice he heard? Where was he? So many questions barraged his mindscape that his very thoughts pierced his mind like daggers. And so he remained laying, his gaze slowly shifting about his room and then toward the slender nurse at his bedside as her hand remained in his. And amidst the chaos his mind found its self in, he couldn't help but feel a sense of inconceivable safety. And as he drifted back to sleep, he mumbled a singular question. "Who is Gemini? The next morning, he awoke with a feeling of his strength returning, casually rising in the bed and gazing out across the landscape of Anaxis with wonderment and questions still plaguing his mind. When he attempted to think back any farther than his awakening, it was foggy and nearly incomprehensible, his mind either refusing to remember or unable to as his head would be overcome with intense pain. A sudden ruckus outside his room quickly brought his attention away from his memory back to the presence as voices were loudly overheard. "He's not ready." The first voice was that of the nurse from before, even at an higher pitched range, still was softly above a whisper. And yet the other, a deep and grizzled voice seemed to explode with an eruption that echoed throughout the compounds halls. "I don't care. He's in our Custody and Coresec demands his release immediately." The confusion only got worse from there for him, the questions plaguing his mind tearing at the flesh that housed his sentience. Too many variables. And not a singular moment to comprehend as a man of tall stature burst into the room, slapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists, and escorted him from the safety he felt in the room to an awaiting transport shuttle atop the building. Outside the room, the area was devastating. Much of the building was reminiscent of abandonment, with little to no upkeep aside from the room he awoke in and very little lighting littering it's halls as they marched toward the room access. Exposed wiring and molded walls were a common occurrence and when the roof's access door was opened, his sight burned with the brightness of Anaxis's sky. As it settled, however, the world of Anaxis quickly focused and it's atmosphere mimicked the very building he had been housed in. Anaxis was in total ruin. As the lift of the shuttle came a close, an Anaxis became a living memory, a sense of dread encompassed his form as the shuttle shook with lift-off. And yet, his memory was still unfocused and blank.

Episode IV Precipice of Life The Galaxy, long drawn into the eternal conflicts between the Jedi and Sith, lay beneath numerous levels of destruction and despair. Lawlessness runs rampant in an ungoverned assortment of worlds where the Republic and Empire once brought Order amidst the Chaos and the Jedi Order remains in shambles, distrusted and despised by those whom remember the many wars while the Sith holds sway over Unknown Regions and Outer Rim. On the Core World of Anaxis, only the remnants of Coresec remain the pathetic attempt at stability. It is here that our story begins anew as a lone stranger lays locked away within his own mind deep in the depths of one of Coresec's many undisclosed infirmary wards. As monitors gauge his vitals, alarms begin to ring, a singular finger flinching against the constrictive bindings of his bandaged form.

Not much is known about these mystical creatures said to prey on the Purrgil and ships within the hyperspace lanes that traverse the Galaxy, only myth and legends of who or what they are. In fact, most cultures associate them with the Aurora Borealis that typically are seen in the northern atmospheres of most planets, shimmering lights of green, purple, and blue depending upon the planet's sun. But what are the Adaru truly, and where did they come from? This is a mystery as old as time it's self and many variants span to explain what they are. Photo of possible Adaru emerging from Hyperspace Few have claimed to see the mystical creature, random occurrences either while in Hyperspace or charting courses, but what tales that are told tell of a beautiful and yet terrifying serpentine creature that emerges from and back into hyperspace within the length of its body, leaving behind a fading crackle of storm like activity. There are notes of it chasing the Purrgil, whale like creatures known to frequent tales of the spacers, so it is theorized that Purrgil are it's main source of food. And yet, despite the records and lore about this creature, there are no true evidence of its existence. No remains have ever been found, but there are other known creatures of elongated lifetimes and even some that never seem to age at all. Nor have any true photographic proof ever been brought to light. To most, they are but superstitious legends or ramblings of mad spacers. But that isn't to say there is no fact to this myth, as most myths are somewhat based in reality in some form or another. Perhaps it's simply a event that has yet been touched upon concerning the mysteries of what Hyperspace truly is. Perhaps the Adaru really do exist. There is no evidence to the contrary no more than there is evidence to support its existence. And yet the Adaru are creatures based in lore found in almost all technologically advanced races, whether religiously or mythical, descriptions almost identical. Surely this no coincidence. - Excerpt from Imperial Librarian Geoffrey Bourne's Maddening Mysteries

Pack Fenrir A Von Howlster Conglomerate Creed "When the Moon calls, we answer. When Fenrir beckons, we surrender." Heraldry Blood Moon with the Mask of Mythos in the foreground History When Mythos Fenrir Von Howlster passed, word managed to reach his father's ear. Sergi Fenrir, the Alpha that fathered him, became so lost in turmoil and grief so strongly, it is said he howled for nearly fourty moons before he began his Trail of Mourning, an ancient right amongst the Shistavanen where the Alpha of a Clan must march alone across the land and bring his pain to the other clans by challenging each of the Clan Alpha's strongest sons to single combat and slay them. An ancient right so respected and revered that it cannot be denied nor retaliated. The Clan Alpha's must share in the losses until the pain becomes grief. Sergi, a silvered Shistavanen slew nearly two hundred of the strongest contenders in response, bringing not only pain to the Clan's he traveled to, but reverence in his plight before his pain was swayed and grief took hold in his mourning. In this reverence, not only for the pain each saw and felt in him, but for the hollowed soul it had bore in him before his heart could grieve, the Clans came together with him at the Eternal Den. Here, at the Eternal Den where the Trail of Mourning end and the bones of the fallen can be buried at long last, they proclaimed their fealty to Sergi and his Clan in honor of such a son. It was here, as Mythos and the two hundred were buried in the mound, that Pack Fenrir was born and became a Conglomerate under the banner of Von Howlster. Capital The Mother's Teet, Uvena Prime

As blade tore through flesh, Mythos' ear flinched with boiling pain and altered equilibrium as he shifted his weight to keep his stance. But the Flechette he expected to carve he and the girl asunder did not explode it's payload like he expect, instead tearing it's pathway across and into her collar, a byproduct of Mythos' hindered balance. He smirked as best he could, his salivating maw grotesquely unable to capture it's intent behind his mask. So the fates had decided they both were worthy of life despite their wounds. He would respect it's wishes. The Great Moon had decided, even if she was Sith and a non-believer. Holding her up by his blade, his voice echoed from behind his mask. "You are quite the Warrior, little Sith." He spoke, his glance briefly looking down at his destroyed arm and across the field of battle. He wanted to end her life here, but with the dud speaking the will of the Great Moon, it was sacrilege to not follow it. "I expected the Great Moon to call home our souls and cleanse you, but she has decided otherwise. Pity. You are dishonored and tainted. I don't know why she chose to spare you. Perhaps there is something she can see in your soul that I cannot." Mythos grew quiet as his gaze stared deeply into hers, his grip tightening, his rage apparent as he threatened to turn on his blade. "I will leave you to your wounds. Survive, or do not. I can care less." And with that, he threw her wounded form aside, his blade slipping out of her form as the momentum shifted her form into the air and the lake beside them. As he hit his knee, his blooded blade plunging into the soil of Naboo, he breathed heavy. Ichi turned to ask if he was okay, but Mythos wasn't truly sure. This outcome had been truly unexpected and he simply knelt there as he took in the moment. Instead, Mythos simply halted the Chandrillian with his paw and signaled him to recover the fallen forms as well as Sesil who had survived. Moments later, he would return with a few field medics that had been aboard the ship they had arrived on. Despite this being a win with the Sithling's defeat, this battle had taken more than its toll on Mythos. And the Shistavanen held alot of unspoken questions within his mind. And as his gaze shifted to Theed, he questioned whether to proceed or to fall back. News had arrived of the ship's flight capabilities, and the outlook was good. But the question remained whether they could escape or not, dependant on the current outlook of the invasion.

The Sith before them was unlike anything Mythos had faced before, unrelentless and powerful. Despite everything that had been thrown her way by them, she remained in near almost prestige condition as almost all of his men laid upon the soiled ground in shambles. Sesil had been the first to fall in her initial attack, the sight of him reeling in the pain of her cleaving his legs plaguing the Shistavanen's heart. And Andrew fared no better, his life flowing from his eyes as Mythos' gazed shifted across the field of battle at his own. Dogga had been the last, his form unimaginably grotesque and unfathomably hard to discern flesh from bone before him, Pecal, and Ichi. And yet, she continued her onslaught unhindered. So this was the true power of the Darkside. This was why the Sith were worshipped as Gods. This was the extent of their Magicks. Were there no bounds? Were there no weaknesses? Mythos had fought Sith before, rogue Jedi even. But this new Order, this rise of a new Imperium, he had never known such chaos and strife, had never known such destruction and power. They seemed almost invisible. Almost as if they could not be slain in the heat of battle. Nyrys. Inmortos. Now Kahla. Could he truly stand against their ilk? It felt hopeless. All Mythos could do was watch in horror as she turned her sights upon Pecal to get to him, her blade cleaving through the being's form so freely and casually as the stench of burnt flesh sent his smell reeling. And in that moment, Mythos felt a sensation he hadn't felt in ages. Vulnerability. It flowed through him like ice water, his hair standing upright, his heart racing with the unknowing, and his mind chaotic. And for a brief moment, he felt fear freeze him place. "No." Mythos grimaced under his voice, the aged Shistavanen catching himself as the doubts threatened to consume him. "I will not falter. I will not fail!" Mythos growled in defiance as he threw his prosthetic arm into the path of the incoming blades, the heat of the blades boiling the metal beneath the weight of their pressure before they began to cut their way through it. Mythos mind had returned to its original state, his resolve growing in strength. It mattered little whether they were Gods or not. If they could be cut, they could be defeated. And even if he wouldn't be the one, at least he could die with the pride of his people intact. Not just as Shistavanen, but as an Alliance Marshall and Colonel of the Rebel Alliance. Reeling back as the blades cleaved his arm in two, Mythos grinned a malicious grin as he swung his blade forward to her gut, Ichi stepping beside his superior with the deafening release of the Flechette shell. It's target was at point blank range and eye leveled, and even if the Flechette Needles managed to get through Mythos' helm, he didn't care. If they were meant to die this day, then so be it. That was the fated outcome, and neither would live to regret it. All they wanted to prove was the ability to severely wound these Gods and humble them, to show them that they weren't unstoppable. And in this moment, they knew they had ((3...Great Duel bro.)) Actions: Pecal was slaughtered. Mythos felt helpless and vulnerable for a brief moment. Blocked Kahla's Blades with his prosthetic arm before aiming for her gut with his. Ichi fired a Flechette at point blank range toward her face as he stepped to Mythos' side.

The men and women of the 432nd were survivors of Chandrila and Veterans of Kuat, born and bred by the holocausts that had plagued their kind in recent months. And like Mythos, who they had placed their trust and lives within, they were tired of losing to the Sith and their ilk. It was no longer about survival. Life held no meaning after the atrocities they had been inflicted by and seen with their own eyes. It was simply vengeance. They fought for their justice and the justice that was demanded for the crimes of war committed in the name of the Spider's reign. And their terror would stop here, the Sith War Machine brought to a sudden halt. It was time for the Alliance to dig in and show the true grit of defiance and rebellion. It was time for the bells of Liberty to ring. They had come to know the Sith, ruthless remnants of the fallen Jedi who sought greed and power. And not just through history textbooks and holovids, but with their own experiences. And as the Sithling made her advance, fear was the farthest thing from their hearts. They had lost everything, and nothing was more dangerous than a sentient who held nothing to lose. So as she made her move on Andrew, an orphan at the hands of the Mandalorians who held no familia ties to this Galaxy, he smirked in defiance as he brought up the E-11D in an attempt to block her blows, able to deflect one of the blades before the other drove down his right arm and cauterized his form down to his hip. Overcome by pain, he fell into unconsciousness. Mythos grimaced with anger as he spun behind Pecal, Dogga dropping to his knee as he continued his assault. Two Flechette cartridges fired simultaneously as the Sith turned her sights to Dogga who stood no chance against her attack and was cleaved in half as he accepted his fate with open arms, knowing that his daughter and wife would be safe thanks to his sacrifice as the two cartridges exploded their needled payload, two more shots echoing across the moment of near silence, hope filling the air that their sacrifices would not be in vain. And in Mythos' gaze as it surveyed the landscape before these three, he vowed that it would not as his own blade came unsheathed. If this Sith wanted to bath in blood and live in darkness, he vowed to make it her own, the moment of battle salivating from his maw. ((2)) Actions: Andrew managed to deflect one of Kahla's Blades with his weapon, but was mailed by her other. Two Flechette rounds were fired as she approached Dogga and mauled him as well, Dogga accepting his fate as the two rounds exploded and released their slivers, two more rounds being fired at the that very moment. Mythos is preparing himself for battle.

Rising from the ashes of what should have been a fatal crash had it not been for Colonel Von Howlster and the Pilot's ability to react quickly, Mythos and five members of the 432nd bathed in Alliance Light Armor emerged from their would be graves. Having managed to gather three E-11D Carbines along with two FWG-7 Flechette Launchers, the group set off toward Theed with a vengeful purpose. Their mission had started out as a rescue mission, but now as Theed sat on the horizon in utter destruction and their ship in need of repairs, it became a mission of life and death. Mythos knew this. All six of them did. Either they would die here at the hands of the enemy, or they would find a way off this burning rock and back to the Alliance. These were the only two outcomes. As their trek to Theed began, Mythos turned his nose to the air. That scent had grown closer now and seemed atop them. His gaze shifted about as he unsheathed his black powder scatter rifle and brought it to his forefront, Pecal and Ichi at his rear with the two FWG-7 and Dogga, Sesil, and Andrew at the rear with the E-11D Carbines. Grumbling under his breath, he alerted Pecal and had Pecal alert Dogga of potential enemies inbound as the group fell into unison and began their forward march. As the enemy made their rearview appearence, however, even Mythos found himself slightly off guard by the attack with Sesil quick to fall to the emerging Sith's blade as his legs were sliced cleanly in half with Andrew barely clearing the Sith's aim by centimeters with a quick action jump upward as the girl turned her attention quickly to Dogga. Backpedaling, Dogga, Pecal, and Ichi focused their fire in her general direction in close quarters, two rounds of Flechettes waiting in aim and Dogga's E-11D Carbine igniting in the haste and confusion as Andrew himself backpedaled himself and barely escaping friendly fire. All the while, Mythos stood in his singular position as his men backpedaled in all directions as he aimed his scatter rifle and let loose it's own volley. This Sith may have been powerful and quick, but she had placed herself in the center of hellfire. ((1)) Actions: Mythos picked up Kahla's scent in the previous post and continued into this one despite not being able to hone into her position. Sesil's legs were cleaved in half but Andrew escaped both the Sith's attack and Dogga's on Kahla as the entire group is backpedaling save for Mythos. Currently there are blaster bolts being fired at close range along with a single blast from a scatter rifle with two rounds of Flechette waiting in aim.

Circle of Will While based mostly on the traits of the Jedi Consular, the Circle of Will is more based on belief than of class, and as such, encompasses the Order as a whole. These Jedi believe in the symbiotic relationship between the Living and Cosmic aspects of the Force. And rather than wield the Force, chose to be wielded by the Force in every aspect, even in combat. And while they actively avoid combat or assist through the Force, they also understand the need to combat the consuming nature of the Darkside and what it would lead to if left unchecked. Most Jedi with this central belief tend to study and Master defensive powers and some rarely wield lightsabers, becoming the basis for Form Zero practitioners. Instead, they hone their skills and allow the Force to be their guide, actively meditating on their actions within the flow of the Force. Due to this active meditation, these Jedi develop a gut sense within the Force and can usually transcribe it's will on the fly simply by following it's course with little redirection or disruption. Active practitioners usually aid allies in combat through the Force, supportive measures to heighten the senses and improve vitality while remaining away from combat as much as feasibly possible. But they also understand that the Force will lead to confrontation in times where wounds begin to appear within it's flow or the Darkside threatens to corrupt on mass scales. These moments are where these Jedi become combative, using their connection with the Force and it's will to aid the Force personally. Defensive measures become dire skills meant to defend the user from harm and ultimately use the opponent's own will against them in hopes of freeing their grasp upon the Force by wearing the opponent down in a drawn out duel. Beliefs in the Jedi Code The Circle of Will are more traditionally based Jedi, especially when it comes to the Jedi Code, and as such, stick to the more traditional code as passed down generation upon generation. Because of this, the Circle of Will tend to live a more monastic life style full of mediation, celibacy, and humble attire with very little armor. Below is their interpretation of the Jedi Code and what each of the tenets loosely teaches. There is no emotion, there is peace: The common belief behind this tenet in the Circle of Will is that it asks that one give up it's own will for the betterment of the whole. To attach one's self to base instincts and emotions is to condemn one's self to suffering, and that the only way to truly understand the Force is to completely give one's self to it's will. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge: The common belief behind this tenet in the Circle of Will is that the Force is all knowing, existing in the past, present, and future simultaneously. To believe knowledge is attainable outside of the Force is to believe yourself above the Force. But to submit yourself to it's will and understand it's flow and teachings is to know the truest of knowledge, becoming one and the same. There is no passion, there is serenity: The common belief behind this tenet in the Circle of Will is that individuality brings imbalance to one's self. It is believed that everything is born and connected through the Force and that everything returns to the Force, imparting the experiences of each life into the whole. Imbalance creates the nature's of Dark and Light, and in doing so, breeds the duality of the connections. Only serene minds can truly understand the Force and it's true will, and must let go of their individuality and humble themselves to preserve it. There is no chaos, there is harmony: The common belief behind this tenet in the Circle of Will is that by shedding one's own individuality; including passions, emotions, and ignorance, can one truly obtain harmony with the Force and understand it as it truly is. Hanging onto things that set themselves apart from one another only breeds ignorance and chaos, even within the Jedi Order and is the reason why so many Jedi fall to the Darkside. To be out of harmony with the Force is to breed Chaos and fuel the Darkside. There is no death, there is the Force: The common belief behind this tenet in the Circle of Will is simplistic. You are born in the Force, and upon your death, your life becomes a part of it, imprinting your life into its history and flow. Some are capable of transcending their sentience into the Force and are capable of existing within it like a living memory, but few are capable of this level of understanding in the Force, and even fewer care to reveal themselves before becoming one with the Force eternally. Symbiosis with the Force Because of the mind frame of those within the Circle of Will, Practioners live a symbiotic life within the Force, letting it's flow act as a guiding beacon with little to no interference on their part. Instead, they act as the Force commands, and only act if the it's the will of the Force or the Force it self becomes threatened by the arrival of Darksiders. If the corruption of the Darkside within the Force leads to conflict, then they will. If not, they will flee or evade. Because of their rooted nature in following Force's will, they rarely engage in combat and usually stick to the flight rather than the fight portion of conflict. But because they have given up their own will to follow the will of the Force, the circumstance depends on the flow its self. They are blades to be wielded by the Force, commanded by their interpretation of it's will, and will not falter from it's course. If there is no presentation within the Force to flee, they will engage in combat. Those within the Circle of Will spend long hours in meditation and usually choose to see within the Force rather than use their own eyesight. They delve deeply into both aspects of the Force to intertwine their minds within the separate aspects as to understand it's will. They devote their life to it's will, resisting the urges of their own to be completely complaint to its own. Scholars, Mediums, Monks, and Seers are usually among their ranks.

Smoke began to billow from the shot engine as gravity began to take over, Mythos and the entirety of the 432nd hanging in the moment of suspense as the pilot's grappled to regain control of the AIAT/I. With the surface water of Naboo coming at them quickly, the astromech droids rolled in abundance. But would they, could they, reach the engine in time? It wasn't likely. So what was the pilot to do? That's when he heard Mythos' voice through the comm. "Kill the engines and brake hard." Mythos' voice growled through the silent comm chatter, the pilot quickly reaching up to the kill switch and pulling back on the throttle to engage the air brakes. Their decent began to slow slightly as the pilot continued pulling back on the column, the nose starting to rise inch by inch. Impact began to chime eminently when Mythos' voice came through once more. "Sublight's to the max! Now!" Engaging the Sunlight's at max, the nose drove upward and the ship kicked it's full weight forward in an attempt to level out when it struck the water, skidding across the reflective surface with little resistance until physics took hold and the momentum sent the ship into a gliding spin. Every soul aboard felt the crash with jarring consequences, but most injuries were mild to moderate with limited casualties as the ship barreled into a nearby treeline sideways. Silence erupted as avian species flocked away from their position. And silence remained. Mythos climbed out of the wreckage with blood seeping down his forehead and about, a small gash above his furred brow. And behind him, five more emerged as the rest took to tending to the wounds. Across the lake outside Theed was debris of containers and astormechs as they bobbed upon the rippling water. And only two astromech droids remained within the ship its self. Looking upon Theed with blooded eyes, Mythos shook his head. They were too late. Suddenly a scent captured his attention, the wind blowing it their way, a scent of chaos and malice. "Grab what gear you can find. The rest of you, repair the ship and treat the wounded. You five, with me. Theed may be lost, but we're not. We move out in ten."

Klaxons and radar alerts lit up like Life Day as targeting systems aligned and locked in, the Pilots alerting Mythos of the incoming fighters with the skies of Naboo in the forward view. The Colonel grimaced, but looked back at the men that littered the ship's innards with contemplation. He knew this entry would be difficult, but not so quickly picked up. Theed was still a few minutes away. "Make for Theed." Mythos guttered out as he turned to exit. "I'll handle to opposition. You two, get to the front turrets." He spoke to two of the 432nd that were close by as he made his way to the rear, open comms commanded. "Let's give em hell." Mythos, rather large even for his species, had little trouble climbing into the rear turret's seat, kicking his duster aside for leg room. His larger hands, on the other hand, engulfed the controls and forced the Shistavanen to use three of his overall digits. Lining up his sights, he swiveled around, and with a look of sheer determination on his face, let loose a volley of emerald bolts. His targets were simple, anything fired upon them or anything locked on. Minutes would pass like hours over the course of the next few moments as the AIAT/I entered Nabooan Airspace and rocketed for Theed. With sweat dripping from his furred face, he licked his lips with feverish vengeance. "Hit the water hard. I don't care if we have to submerge. Let's get them off our tails."

A lone AIAT/I exited hyperspace and made for the planet below. It hailed no comm chatter, nor did it engage any opposition or it transmit any transponder codes to either side. It simply flew as fast as it's hyperdrive and sunlight engines allowed. Aboard this ship was the entirety of the 432nd Chandrillian Squadron, Veterans of Kuat. And in the lead, Colonel Mythos Von'Howlster of the Rebellion. ((Will make landing post tomorrow if no one has any objections))

As soon as he asked his question, he received his answer... Loosely enough. His gaze shifted to the arrival of the Imperial Knight, her outfit and armor unmistakable and resembling the girl he met after his last loss at the hands of the Sith, Sandy. He grimaced beneath his blatant stare, knowing full well what this meant. If there was a Imperial Knight here in his room, it was back to the front lines. Rising, he took the first datapad. "You don't need to bow, child. Formalities are for the echelon, not us linemen." He spoke with a forced jest. The Imperial Knights had been adamant friends to him since he joined the Rebellion, and he considered them the most trustworthy of the Mystic Orders. "Thank you. I will do my best." With that, he began gathering his gear, Leeroy remaining at his side. From his peripheral, he could see the worry in his subordinate's eyes. He sighed. "Don't worry. I may have lost again, but it was of my own fault this time. It won't happen again." "We worry because we care, Colonel." Jibbs spoke freely, his gaze trying to catch that of Mythos' own as he gathered his gear. "They say you went feral on the battlefield, lost all sense of yourself. First Ghosts, now Hatred. You may be letting things become too personal....." The echo of Mythos slamming his fist into the locker reverberated throughout the ward as he turned to Leeroy. "It is personal. Thousands of dead lay at their feet and they use them against us like weapons." "I understand Colonel." Jibb's voice became almost pleading, his hands begging to Mythos. "But do we not do the same? Send countless soldiers to their deaths in the name of freedom and the preservation of liberty? Mythos' gaze turned cold in disbelief, a stern cold that sent chills down even his own spine. What had just left the lips of Jibbs was almost too cruel to bare. He wanted to strike the man for even thinking it. But he shook his head instead, calming his composure and his riled hair. "A life is a life. And this will be the last of it that I will hear. Am I clear soldier?" Yes Colonel." Jibbs replied with a clap of the heels and a firm salute, the evidence of his failure to reach the Colonel written on his face as he left the room. Soon, Mythos geared up as well, left the ward behind. As Mythos gathered with the 432nd Regiment out of Chandrila and boarded their transport, he sat in solace and thought upon the words Jibbs dare spoke in his presence. With a sigh he leaned back and closed his eyes for the journey ahead. "It won't happen again, Jibbs. I won't be careless again."

Mythos' gaze shot open with a muzzled snarl, his heightened vitals alerting the medics of his awakening as he fought against the entangling wires that encompassed his form. Inmortos was all the ate at his mind, his thoughts, as the feral beast attempted to claw himself out of the bacta tank, his feral form scaring some of those around him into quick action as sedatives were quickly administered. Clawing at the mask that covered his snout was the last thing he remembered before going back into the sedated state he had awoken from. When he awoke the second time, his head throbbed with pain as he gazed around him, his hand attempting to reach his scarred scalp only to find themselves bound and restrained. He lifted his head in temper, his voice growling as he questioned the meaning of this. "You're no longer on Mon Cal, Colonel. We were barely able to drag you out alive, and only after the Sith Magic was dealt with." A familiar voice calmly speaking as the matching face of Leeroy stepped into view. "Honestly, if you didn't have your regenerative capabilities, you would have been lost for sure." "I see. Mythos responded in a more controlled tone, his vitals returning to a somewhat less irritated state. "And Mon Cal?" "A success..." Leeroy spoke with pride that quickly followed with an unspoken regret. "But we lost most of our men. I'm in the middle of training new recruits. Mythos fists balled up as his blood boiled, his gaze still reveling in a feral state, but his mind conscious. Inmortos, that Sith Magician, had done the damaged he wantingly caused. And he was powerless against it. Tears began to leak from his ducts, yet his face remained unchanged. He had failed yet again to protect those under his charge. He was beginning to doubt his own leadership when Leeroy grabbed his restrained hand. "We were all left unsuspecting. No one could have called that unless they were Jedi. Don't blame yourself Colonel." "Inform the families and ensure they will taken care of. I don't care if it breaks this rebellion. Their lives should not go unjustified." Mythos spoke as Leeroy released his bonds and allowed him to sit up, his balance off due to the loss of hearing. After Leeroy caught the Colonel and steadied him, he stepped back with a honorable salute. Any word on where the Sith retreated?

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.