Capt. Phillep

Quickly and gruffly, the Admiral's voice still harsh and strained from the feral beast that had just been trapped within the Admiral's psyche once more... "What is it?" The Admiral's voice filtered through a mechanical, gurgling sound appeared through the structures of Slicer's ship... "What the hell do you want?"

His aimless mind... his humanoid body, lingered, bloody and broken... exhausted... yet healing. His breaths were heavy and laborous, but he could feel it... and then the downpour. Unrivaled... even by Vjun's standards. He was gone. The few Imperial Defenders that were scrambled were either decimated in the storm or forced to fly blind... even the most skilled of the Imperial pilots had a hard time at best. The tracking systems aboard the orbiting Hellgate-class struggled to keep the X-wing in its sights, but even their instruments couldn't out-pace the nature of the Force. A fist opened and Phillep tossed himself to his feet... I hope the child is fine, I feel nothing strange. Only fear and doubt. His broken form struggled, but slowly, the injuries and bruises were healing beneath the skin, injuries sealing and improving... as he moved on towards Ki... ((Sorry I've been off for a while...))

His hands immediately went for his eyes... apparently, his breath had been sustained... as had his otherwise intolerable pain... whatever had happened, Phillep felt... normal. It was... hard to remember. As if... the transformation had not even happened. He struggled to sit up... feeling even further apprehension... tension... His startled eyes... half-opened and somewhat fogged behind tears and blood, stared up... and his limited form took in, as best as it could, the flying Pegasus... "He went for them... of course... that was his intention all along. The children." He hacked a cough, mucous and blood dripping from his busted lips, "Damn him." In sheer pain, Phillep's body hurtled itself over and he partly fell down... his hands catching his fall. "Damn him. I'm going to rip his bloody head off..."

Leviathan. The word had many connotations for the feeble-minded, Imperially-trained, sub-standard, weak Admiral that hid beneath the layers of limbic, reptilian-minded ferocity... and beneath the exaggerated layers of pre-frontal cortex-inclined, "tactician" that Phillep was better known for. But no... crushed by the over-powering super-ego and the relentless id, there was the man that Phillep was... had been, and left to rot. The man who studied memories, and who recalled the word... Leviathan in reference to a man named Saul Karath... a Sith Admiral from the Old Republic. Thousands upon thousands of years before the Empire had been formed into the Empire by Palpatine. The broken ego did smile, for Saul Karath was corrupted and twisted by Dark Lords Revan and Malak. Made a pawn for their games... and that is what Phillep and this monster were. As amusing as a trapped ego's thought processes are, Phillep, the monster, was atop a collapsing roof staring down at an unarmed pseudo-Jedi who clamored about wanting to die. Beasts don't think. As such, Phillep would strike... it was inevitable... even as in the rear of his mind, alarm klaxons resounded... and nanite machines clamored to repair tearing flesh and searing boils. Decay was being expedited as Phillep's massive arms rose up, the green, translucent dagger and the green, translucent armor reflecting the pale night into the Blademaster's eyes. And then... as predicted, he struck. The dagger was aimed to pierce through the chest-cavity... splintering the sternum and collapsing the ribs about the rest of the interior anatomy. A slow, gurgling, choking death... as blood seeps into all other organs and pours out from the heart. Even stomach acids would spill... the sheer amount of adrenaline to quell such pain... well... it would be phenomenal. Of course... that is supposing the blow becomes landed... and as the alarm klaxons warn... that is not so great a possibility.

Time to think? Phillep's feral eyes blinked as the Blademaster rushed up the roofs... a snarl appeared, as the Hapan prince continued to speak in long, winding speeches. His face contorted in anger, he hid away his lightsaber and dagger... he rushed for the window, a knowing sinister smile overcoming his face. His hands shattered the glass, as his body's intense muscles hurled him across the gap to the next spire of the Palace... and he leaped from ledge to ledge, his massive arms hoisting up his incredible girth. Of course, there were moments when the Castle's beauty was not ready for the sheer mass of Phillep's transformed form, and it crumbled beneath his hands... but it was only a momentary loss which Phillep countered... continually lunging from side to side... slowly overcoming the obstacle of height in his path. His primitive mind needed no reason to think... Phillep's Sith rage overpowered his reason, he was an animal in every respect... and now the Blademaster had given the Mad Admiral a desire to hunt prey. To be a true beast... His elongated canines glimmered their yellow, blood-stained hue in the night's sky... his sharpened claws dug into the architecture, allowing the crazy beast to continue heaving himself higher and higher... As he lunged from rooftop to rooftop chasing down the more efficient Blademaster, he could feel his skin rupturing beneath the armor coating, anger and pain coursing through his veins... enhancing his Dark Side connection. His vampiric curse continually strengthening the beast with enhanced strength and endurance... And then... there he was. His prey... jerking a coolant system via the Force, Phillep's massive arms swung the large item around and hurled it towards the Blademaster... either missing the human entirely and collapsing his perch, or smashing the man with the large, massive item... Regardless, Phillep was rushing right behind the large item, his dagger in hand, ready to crash into the Palace's materia and form a grip for the powerful man-beast...

Phillep's feral mind stopped as he looked at the pseudo-Jedi with the strange weapon... his eyes glared and he snarled, and roared like an animal. Primitivity understood two basic concepts, fight or flight. Relying solely on agression, remarkable levels of adrenaline and ferocity, as well as the final form of his vampiric curse... Phillep's mind functioned solely on fight. More precisely, on kill or be killed. With clenched fists, Phillep's body glowed a new green, as if a second skin rose to the surface, and a dagger appeared in one hand and the traditional Sith lightsaber with its hilt of decaying flesh in the other. The armor he wore, crafted from the blood and soul of the Kaminoans danced off the dim light in a strange green-black tint. With both weapons drawn, Phillep's beast-like form charged at the Prince, massive arms held up high to come crashing down on the caelestum with unparalleled strength. Phillep was his Master's pupil... trained by the Droid-General of Nurgle, Haphaestus... trained to be resilient to fear and death. A conduit for all that is of the Dark Side... Phillep's transformed body already began to suffer injuries, the skin boiling beneath its green-translucent armor.

Phillep's eyes narrowed as the Blademaster vanished, "Not your usual Jedi, this is true. But I am not your usual Sith..." Cleanching his fist, Phillep walked towards his developing young... You will not take them from me, you will never break my will over this world. The Minion of the Plaguebearer, through clenched teeth hurled his fist into a wall out of anger... and immediately, summoned the Force to protect his bone from shattering. But it... was too late, the anger and defiance shown the Admiral snapped his feral nature. It was rare to see the transformation, as Phillep had managed to regain the majority of control over his psyche... but it came moments, when unleashing the Beast was necessary. The muscles in his left arm changed first, the bone shattered before a new layer of calcite seemed to manifest itself and craft elongated bone structure; the relatively small-statured Admiral's left arm dragged to his knee, before he felt the shattering of bone in his right leg, and the same excruciating process. His cranium was flooded with calcite, protecting his mind, but applying extensive pressure on it. It was an aneurysm that severed off the rational thinking part of his brain, accentuating only the primal, instinct-based portions. His chest muscles were torn apart before the fibers instantaneously healed themselves, denser and tighter than before. His body mass nearly tripled in size, and he fell with twin massive fists just before his feet... his nostrils flaring in tune with his Force-sense, "Hunt..." As if letting the word settle, his fists went up above his head and came crashing down, shattering the floor and dropping the beast into the lower level... startling servants who had seen a Jedi-like force user suddenly sliver through and dissappear. The game was on...

"Do I have a proposition to save my children? No, you clearly misunderstand... my children, my heirs are no less a part of your Hapan Royal blood than you are. Direct lineage to your own line. Would you sever all ties to your own people in an effort to save them?" The Admiral had a slight hint of a sadistic smile appearing at the corners of his mouth, he was and will always be the Mad Admiral... "If the Jedi have abandoned this world, the Alliance left it in my grasp... perhaps, they have determined that such a world is better in the hands of a tyrant, than in their inept ones. I have given things to this world and so many others like it. I teach them strength and advance their understanding. I have given them true leadership." The Admiral enjoyed reminding others of his successes, regardless of their costs, "I have made your homeworld safe from Invaders. I have ferreted out the Hutt Overlords and sentenced many to Executions, acting as Judge, Jury and Executioner to restore Order. I have done a great service to this world... and linked myself to it, by blood." Pausing, "You see, if you destroy me, it is inevitable that I shall return from Death. I am an asset of the Imperial Machine, I am the Will of the Military, I am the Lord Protector and Military Steward of the Empire. It does not function without me, and my faith in Nurgle and in the Will of the Emperor and his Empire, is indomitable. I shall return from such a death, only that much stronger and more resolute. The same is true of my blood... and that which has congealed with that of your kin." His face had grown stern as he spoke, but slowly, it crackled into another smile... "But you still want a deal... do you? Fine, hear this, to strike me down is to kill your family. Would you risk their death, only to offer judgement on mine, Prince? Not my children... but all that lingers of your lines. As they are tied to me, they require of me, as I require of them. We are bound by the living, physical fabric of the Force." A strange maniacal cackle erupted from the Mad Admiral's parched and increasingly-chapped lips, the light flooding his paling face and revealing the almost spectre-like being, his elongated canines dancing in the new light... "You may leave her peacefully, or leave here the Butcher of your world, dear Prince."

"Sith are religious fanatics. I am known to accept their assistance, more importantly, to use them in times of war. They are fitting Generals and Commanders, capable of manipulating thousands with their vaunted Force. The Empire has seen its share of their atrocities, and understands the value of such a warrior in combat. Therefore, it is likely that they are here... but you speak of something a bit more... refined. Let us refer to it... as the Bearer of Plagues, a mark grafted to those who follow the Principles of Nurgle. One doesn't necessarily have to be blessed by a God to follow his views," the Admiral cracked his neck and paused, his eyes not trembling or faltering, almost amused at the coy tricks of those nature gifted with the Force. "Then again, I should know, I am one such Pupil." Phillep smiled and released the 'cloak' of deception, as it were... "I had nothing to hide in regards to your people, Prince. That was the point of fact, but I am still Admiral to an Imperial Fleet, and Steward to several worlds under its protection and authority, including this world." The currents of the dark side that ran through Phillep were not nearly of the same calibre as those that rang through Nurgle's other Champions, it was a different nature... it was unnatural, in Phillep, as opposed to a natural, perversion of the Dark Side in the Dark Lord, Barton or Exodus. As such, it manifested differently... Dark Lord carried the plague in his very blood. Barton harnessed Nurgle's gifts into retrofitting his body. Exodus was a Spectre of Death. Phillep... like the youngest of Nurgle's kin, received the gift of transmissibility of disease through vampirism. He was a leech of the Force and of life, off others. "I presume it should be clear now, Prince. I am the Darkness you came to ferret... which begs the question, are you here as Judge, Jury or Executioner?"

Phillep chuckled, politics had a knack for teaching a man to read the subtle expressions of another, even the most powerful of Judges still shed a glimpse of emotion... and it was Phillep's gift to ferret out such glimpses. To probe the waters of his assailants, critics and allies... still, it was a considerably difficult task, having grown dependent on the Dark Side's tendrils of information. He nodded, "Lady Aisling is resting, and her sister, Lady Vastor, is with her. Descendants of the Hapan line. Lady Aisling, being the official heiress. Opposition to the heiress and her decision to marry outside the line led to my actions against them. My domination of the opposition parties, was in favor of the Hapan line. But, let's go see them..." Rising from the table, Phillep motioned towards the Upper Levels of the Palace... The door parted, revealing Ki and Aisling to Prince Isolder and the Mad Admiral, "Lady Vastor and Lady Aisling, Prince Isolder, your... second-cousins, once-removed." The Admiral managed a faint smile, "I studied the Royal lines quite carefully."

"I can tell you, and then I will show you." Phillep's eyes narrowed, refusing to allow his own nature in the Force to be foreseen, "It shall be plain to see, even for someone so connected, Prince Isolder." He smiled, somewhat honestly, somewhat falsely, it was a knack he had gained playing politics... "When I arrived, the Hapan worlds were... backwards, weak. I came here and enlightened, taught, advanced and shared technology that is spread throughout the Imperium." He looked off towards a more formal meeting room within the Palace, "Please, come along, Prince Isolder..." He chuckled, lightly, "I was not aware the males of the Hapan lines were of much use outside of breeding, at least it seemed that way, when I first arrived. The Matriarchal society... seemed weak and ineffective. It was, actually. It offered a laughable resistance, having been conquered and decimated by the Hutt forces prior to my arrival. The Hutt Overlords, of course, had retreated leaving an even weaker provisional government in place." He offered the Prince a chair, cracked his knuckles and sat opposite him, and as if on demand, a map of the sector appeared. "This is what the Hapan Cluster resembled before my arrival... and this is what it looks like now." Automatically, the image changed to show several trade convoys rapidly leaving to-and-fro, industrialized sections suddenly sprang up. "In addition, I have placed a Military Corps that is far more capable, and trained by Imperial Elites. The Hapan Naval Corps have been updated with Imperial Tie Defenders and adequately-trained Pilots." The Admiral seemed almost content with his work, "Of course, I also was forced to craft a penal system, and did capture political dissidents in hopes of controlling the chaos. A patriarchal system with me as its present figurehead, and the two remaining heirs, Lady Aisling and Ki are carrying my heirs. However, with a new male heir to the Hapan throne." "Well... why don't you observe the Cluster for yourself..."

"Diplomacy... is overrated." The Admiral rose from the bed, placing one hand on Aisling's forehead and another on Ki's shoulder... "I shall return." He walked, slowly, almost as if disturbed towards the hangar bay... awaiting the interloper, who held... some presence in the Force, though, from Phillep's odd perception it was certainly abnormal. He placed his hands behind his back and let his own presence hide, he felt no need to demonstrate to the galaxy that the Empire was actually a Sith tool, and its Admiral, a powerful Sith puppet, but still, only a puppet. He let a false smile plaster his face as he waited... The appropriate non-aggression reply was issued to the old X-wing, allowing the Force User, whoever he was, to land...

Phillep paused curiously... interested, "Scramble escort fighters above the Palace. Locate him... shoot only if provoked. Understood, Corporal?" The young soldier's face, ever expressionless, responded by a crisp salute before turning and dissappearing into the Palace's catacombs, in direction of the hangar bay, where a squad of eight Defenders took off to greet the guest...

The Admiral indulged a great deal more in his personal whims than he'd care to... in reality, he'd be just as happy leading extermination squads, but... he was able to keep in tow with the flow of Galactic Transmissions. A faint smile, quickly masked by feigned regret... however his private thoughts lingered with the fate of Colonel Slicer, the arrival of General Faust and the Holonet transmissions by both the de-facto leader of the Jedi Order and the Dark Lord of the Sith. He shrugged quite noticeably knowing that it was inevitable, in some way or another, Slicer's ploy was fracked. Meh... His eyes settled on the considerably pregnant Aisling... hoping to get her training under way and have three new personalities at Sith Lord's ranking beneath him... excluding the two Commanders of Venom Division.

Phillep's eyes narrowed, searching the Palace... it disturbed how it seemed progress here went unnoticed, other worlds had things happen quickly, and it took a while for one of his own men to stumble upwards and approach them. "Admiral, sir. We were not expecting you so soon, I hope Ryloth was up to specification." Phillep gripped Ki's hand and turned towards the soldier, "Tell me, Sgt., I need to know of the Queen's condition." The Sgt.'s eyes shifted, "Well, she has been in her room for most of this time, only accepting her servants, but even still... no one knows. Even the Doctor has been denied access... sir." Phillep looked at Ki, "Is that so, Sgt.? Hmm, good. It seems, dear Aisling, needs our company..."

He felt her lips and smiled faintly as the animal nudged her, "Yes, we can go... please, it's your shuttle." He nodded at the equine with a smile and led Ki towards the cockpit...

It was a simple command really, and one his Agents followed almost immediately... it seemed the only time the Imperial's Elite Guard were fooled was when the Hero-Equation was hurled into the mix, but being that all that was asked of them was a navicomputer wipe and a return to the Imperial's flagship... it was done all fairly quickly enough, departing into the folds of space. Instead, Phillep walked with Ki, letting her rest her head on his shoulder, until they reached her shuttle... and he took sight of the pregnant animal. "Quite fitting..."

"As you wish, my dear." Phillep smiled, "I look forwards to this Pegasus of your's, you'll look like my Angel of Death." He wondered if Aisling would be ready, it had been a significant length of time since her conception... either way, Aisling responded differently than Ki, and that was good. She would be angry, but only out of jealousy. And jealousy was something the Master Manipulator could work with...

"I would venture Hapes, it is about time Aisling began some form of her training, I think... and your's is nearly complete. When you feel sufficiently comfortable with a particular Form, then I'd like for you to inform me, and then a duel well again, prove to be your final test." Phillep nodded, as much to finalize his own comment, as for any other reason... smiling at the boy growing inside of her, and mentally checking off another of his personal whims, sleep with a pair of sisters.

"Good, Ki." Breaking from the saber-lock, Phillep leapt back, bringing the saber down and bowing. "We are done, you grasp all that needs to be understood of Form I. From here on in, you are free to further study any particular form of your choosing." Phillep smiled again, looking up at her, "After all, you need to rest, the life inside you needs you to be at your best." He disengaged his lightsaber and approached her, waiting for her to disengage her own blade, before letting his hand touch her stomach...

Phillep's eyes danced in the crimson hue, as the rain drenched over him, it felt heavy, but cool as he ran along his brow and down his cheeks. The drops gave a natural rhythm to the duel, a tempo to follow and listen to, "Listen to the rain, use the rhythm Vjun has given us." Phillep let his steps follow through, moving with the aid of the Force, at the pace of each droplet; his boots impacting the puddles of water at their feet at the same rate as new ripples were created by the falling droplets. His blade followed suit, arcing left, arcing right, moving to the beat of the Darkness on the planet. It was a fast pace; he could feel the blood rushing in his veins and the impulses shooting across his mind. His eyes forever focused on Ki's, using the Force to read her instinctual movements, knowing full well, she was doing the same. It was then that the darkness whispered to move to a guard position on high, and he intercepted a downward swing, filled with the young girl's power and strength. "Good, let the darkness flow through you." He could feel his lips curling into a, real, smile. She was shaping out to be a powerful tool... from the guard position, he rebuffed another assault, countering, and forcing her blade back towards her. The blades, locked again, as the Mad Admiral could feel the warmth of her breath in his face, and watched their mutual moisture sizzle, just as the overbearing rain. He sidestepped another attack, spun and attacked her from behind...

"Exactly." His eyes jerked up momentarily, as he felt his blade go away from him, letting one hand slide back and away from the blade, his dagger intercepted her attack and deflected it. "When the Force is absent... a lightsaber may prove more damaging than good. Control of such a weapon requires the heightened focus of the Force. That is why, I believe, it is matter to accept it as only a tool, and learn to not rely on it wholly." He had held her blade in position, moving the dagger's edge to just above the hilt, forcing an equilibrium of Forces, before bringing his own lightsaber back to a position where he felt more comfortable with it. "Good. Now, let us begin..." He leapt back, saluting again, sheathing the dagger and hurtling over her head... his crimson blade swung across to her midsection. Humming lightly as it passed... before the air once more sizzled with the steam, as the tempests began to pick up... Raindrops evaporating instantly, as Phillep drew the blade back, once more to their forty-five degree angle, both hands on the hilt, jabbing lightly and recoiling... probing.

"For some, yes. Often for warriors, who live and die in perpetual combat." His reflected her latest defense, slicing awkwardly, skillfully bending and maneuvering his wrist and letting the blade move just by its impulses. "For others, they remain as simply tools. Weapons crafted and scavenged by your soul, but, to put too much faith in a tool is to depend on that tool. To depend on that tool is to fall to a weakness." Again, his hand moved deftly, striking away and forcing her defenses away from her person... "I take it to be as much a part of me, as the flagships I command, or the legions of men who follow my will. Understand?" He locked blades with her, than using a motion that started just at the elbow, he began to force the blades to encircle one another in their locked position... a technique often used to disarm an opponent. "I suppose, such faith in a tool is part of drawing strength from some of the more explosive forms. Letting the blade become an extension of your being... in others, the older, more refined techniques, the blade remains just a tool that one attempts to master and manipulate efficiently."

"Good." Phillep moved his blade to the side and swung at Ki, automatically expecting her to block or parry... "First, work the premises of Defense." He drew the blade back, attacking again... routinely, until he felt she was truly proficient in defense. When she felt ready, she could attack... and training would continue into a 'real' duel...

Phillep's eyes looked just as bright and just as malicious as they had following the encounter with the wookiee, "Now, Ki... let us begin a lightsaber lesson." Raising the hilt of his blade, he ignited it, the purple, veiny flesh of his hilt shining in the dim crimson light. "This is the salute, as an Admiral's mistress, you'll have to remember to at least salute your opponent... however, during assasination, be utterly ruthless and forget such pleasantries." His blade moved before him, inches from the end of his nose, and from Ki's perspective parting his face in half. "After the salute, the duel itself begins. Remember, the lightsaber, unlike a normal blade... is immaterial, it carries no weight, nothing to set you off-balance. More importantly, if you notice, not being of matter... it is a beam of energy that bends to follow your command, not reacting as quickly as you shift your wrist. There is a micrometer's delay." Pausing, bringing the blade at a forty-five degree angle across his chest, from right to left... "There are a variety of different stances and forms to duel, I prefer to wield the explosive Form IV, there are others to choose from... Form II, which is of a refined grace, from a much older epoch. Form III, which is a Jedi's form, meant to defend... it has its moments, but even a Master of Form III can be compromised by sufficient opposition. And, I am a tactician above a fighter, winning by whatever means necessary is far above winning honorably. Then, there is Form V, an aggressive form that emphasizes power... it could also lead to collapse and fatigue, if used without sound mind. Form VI, a fool Jedi's form. Meant to find a balance between the competing forms, it proved the death of the Jedi Order under the influence of the grand Emperor and his apprentice, Darth Vader. Finally, a Form VII exists, in two substratas, a type known as Juyo, which is incomplete and well-spread. And another, Vaapaad, which is much harder to find and study. Either form produces a subtle form that appears randomized, with strikes coming in all manners, at all speeds and at different strengths. A combatant who masters either is quite formidable. You are free to choose one to study independently, for now... we shall focus on the most basic premises, Form I." Swinging up, Phillep spoke once more, not nearly at such length, "The basic tenets of Form I are the basic tenets of all combat; Strike, Block, Parry, Counter-attack."