Haphaestus

Haphaestus paused at Dominus' manner. His intuition, a purely biological concept, told him that something wasn't right here. His logic, driven by mechanical pathways, probability-based arithmetic, and an intensive application of memory data, agreed. Dominus would not address him in such a way. Haphaestus had the means to begin a mental investigation of what was wrong and make an inference using either of these methods--intuition or logic. But for him, these things weren't so different anymore. He logically relied on his intuition. It had an excellent track record. With the Force he probed this being that he had mistaken for Dominus. He found passivity, but under the passivity, the serenity that he had encountered, there was something very broken. Shards of some entity that was pushing against the being that stood before him. Shards that had drawn him here expecting to find Nurgle. When the eidolon posed its question, Haphaestus got the distinct sense that the inquiry hailed from a different source than the first, dismissive word. Haphaestus realized that Dominus should be dead, but only by his extreme power did he continue to exist. "Yes," he said at last. "Tell me how." His second sentence was uttered firmly, as a command. His intuitive theory was that such a command could evoke a response from the eidolon and thus require less from the fractured Dominus himself.

Visually, a flicker of pseudomotion and the slight glint of the sun glistening off the surface of a metallic object were the only things that marked the arrival of a small, nondescript vessel. It was like so many others in a galaxy full of sentients, and Almas hardly had the population to worry about a new arrival. Visually, it was impossible to tell anything about the pilot, his motives for coming to this out-of-the-way world, or his time frame for his tasks here and when he was planning to leave. Vision was such a limited sense. If a Force adept were to witness the arrival of this visually meaningless vessel, they would suddenly know a great deal. Aboard was not just another citizen of a busy galaxy, but a Master of the dark side of the Force. He had a presence so chilling, so mechanically cold and logical and yet so twisted, that few could comprehend its malevolence. This pilot may not have the history for mass murder as Vladimir Faust, but in his own way, he was just as cruel. Haphaestus had returned to Almas. Presently he was reaching out with his less limited senses, easily detecting the location of the presence he associated with Lord Nurgle, in many ways his creator, but now under a different name. Darth Dominus, he was called now, but although the title was that of a Sith, he was so much more. Neither the Sith nor the Jedi had truely grasped the nature of the Force, as Dominus and Haphaestus had. When the ship landed near Dominus' location, a tall being emerged from the cockpit, dressed in dark clothing and wearing a dark cloak with a hood pulled up. His face was clad in a metallic mask, as cold as his Force presence, and on his back was a six-foot staff of a heavy black metal strong enough to tangle with a lightsaber and so heavy that no weightless blade could match it in melee. It was a pragmatic choice made by one that relished the chance to destroy Jedi Knights and had done so in the past. Now he strode up to Dominus wordlessly. When he drew near, he bowed. "Greetings," he said, his voice dark and sounding mechanical, filtered through his mask.

HAPHAESTUS' CHARACTER SHEET Identity [!ident] Real Name: Unknown A.K.A: Haphaestus Homeworld: Vjun Species: Strange biotic/droid hybrid (cyborg of sorts) Note that you cannot tell what Haphaestus is by looking at him or through the Force. He is to your senses a biological with something not quite right. It is unlikely his nature will be revealed to you unless you injure him. Physical Description [!dscrp] Age: Extremely old, approximately four millenia Height: 2 meters Weight: What does a 2m tall war droid weigh? Hair: None Eyes: Glowing orange/red photoreceptors Sex: Determinately but not biologically male Equipment [!equip] Clothing or Armor: Black cloak, metal mask and gauntlets Weapon: Darksteel staff, hidden wrist weapons Common Inventory: Only his staff and cloak, sometimes a lightsaber. Perhaps a datapad and datacard for storage, but only to maintain appearances, as most technological functionality is built in. Faction Information [!factn] Force User (Sith Master) Alignment: Lawful Evil Current Faction Affiliation: Sith, Alcazarins (dark side sect) Current Faction Rank: Master, former Dark Lord of the Sith History: [!hstry] Force Side: Dark Side Trained by: Nurgle Trained who: Phillep, Zutia Lavell, Kitaara Shiri, partially trained several others Current Apprentice: None Known Skills: The lost art of feeding on energy from one's surroundings and converting it into raw Force energy, Sith lightning, perception and exploitation of shatterpoints, other Sith Master abilities. Haphaestus is a master smith and can forge all manner of objects using the Force and a source of heat; he typically crafts weapons, armor, and droids. Background: Largely unknown. Haphaestus spent thousands of years on Vjun, serving his dead master's last commands. At the time, he was an HK-51 series assassin droid. When Nurgle found him, he gave him flesh and bestowed him with the Force, creating a strange hybrid. Since then, Haphaestus has rebuilt his mechanical portions and further integrated them with his biological features. Any similarities to his original model, with the exception of his voice, have been all but eliminated through improvement. Ship Registration [!ship] Haphaestus does not own a ship, but uses whatever is on hand, whether he has to steal it or is entitled to its use. Typically, he flies a small, nondescript personal transport.

A pre-prepared pile of machine parts pulled themselves together, apparently completely on their own. They welded themselves together, linked in all the right places, and fused in an extremely complex art that had taken the galaxy millenia to perfect. It was an art that was memorized by the impossibly efficient mind that was a result of this very process, only immortalized by the dark side of the Force. It was a paradox that something that had been created could re-create itself, but the dark side knew no such bounds. The form was basically that of an ancient HK-51 assassin droid, but with a few key changes. First, Haphaestus knew the advancements in droid technology that had come over the years, and he incorporated many of them into his design. He was a stronger, more efficient machine than ever. Second, he had never cared for the face of an HK-51, so he changed it to look much like a smooth, cold human face. As Haphaestus reactivated himself, he clothed himself in Nurgle's flesh, generating the substance through the Force and his connection to the chaos god, and he was once again whole, and he bade his soul and consciousness to reenter the physical form, and it did so. The skin of his face followed the human form, and though it was crude, the face was almost passably human. It didn't really matter. Haphaestus experimentally looked around and initiated a full range of motions, performing diagnostics as he did so. The new body was satisfactory, he noted as he strode towards the forging room where before he had made indestructable weapons and armor plates. But this time he would not do all of that, for he had learned. It took him only a moment to focus the full heat of the forge into creating a new darkstaff for him--it was still his preferred weapon over a lightsaber or two. But he would not reforge armor, only a few key parts. He made himself gauntlets, a mask to cover his face (which was cold but not particularly intimidating), and a neck guard, and that was all. Next he rooted through the supplies that Dominus had left here and found himself a cloak with a hood, which he raised. He found large enough boots to wear as well, and trousers and a thin shirt enforced the visual possibility that he was simply a tall, powerfully-built human. It would do. Devising a storage method to put his darkstaff on his back, Haphaestus, the servant of the dark side and the Emperor but the master of all else, left the room, then Almas.

Haphaestus' defense without what he considered his better mind was considerably different than it would have been had he still had its use. Namely, there wasn't much of one except a sort of basic instinct to avoid the effects of the attacks that were finally being made against him. There was much at work here, and his current level of understanding made it difficult to determine what they all were. So his organic mind formed a form of statement that summed up his defense--don't hurt me, but make me stronger! More darts and a strange dust was finding itself upon him, and even without his better brain he knew that these things were bad. So he delayed his reboot for a brief fraction of a second longer so that when the darts exploded, there was nothing for them to disable. They wouldn't have been effective anyway, he would note later, since they were stuck maybe a millimeter into his helmet above his eyes and not actually his flesh and thus would have a particular amount of trouble getting through the thick skin on his forehead which shielded his brow as well as the actual helmet.... He didn't take the moment to identify the dust, but knew that it was somehow bound to energy, so when he opened himself up to the Force, he again found himself absorbing some form of energy or another and using it to feed his reservoir. His skin felt suddenly numb and his organic mind was slowed a little more still, and for the briefest moment he wondered what it would be like to be completely helpless, with both of his minds disabled. It was a strange thought. At any rate, he would never find out. With a click and whirr, his mechanical mind reactivated and power flooded his systems, everything coming back at once and all over the course of a couple milliseconds. He was the sum of the day's technology, one of the most technologically advanced beings in the galaxy, perfected even more by the near-omnipotent Lord Nurgle as well as his own efforts over the many years of his existence. And so powerful was this mind that came back on that he had ample time to do a total systems check and analyze the situation even as the Jedi Master and his padawan were leaping in together to strike him down. It seems that I've sustained some damage, he realized. His helmet, it appeared, had been partially mangled by some sort of attack of which he had no recollection. He remembered now how the Jedi's hands had gotten somehow hot before he had lost mechanical consciousness, and it didn't take much to determine that it had been through these means that this blow had been inflicted. Impressive, he thought, for his darksteel helmet was almost indestructable, ...and terrifying. He had been so lost in the moment, so consumed by emotion a moment before that he had completely lost track of his defenses and not even bothered to avoid the blow. He hadn't even noticed the damage until now. He had finally experienced what it meant to be fully organic. It had been horrible, a total loss of everything rational, reduced to a state of impulse and emotion and sensation, those things which Haphaestus hated the most, the very antithesis of what he had been all his life until Nurgle's experiments. And yet... somehow, it had been tremendously satisfying at the same time. He had been granted such power by the dark side that now the state which he had left behind was fascinating to him, a loss of what he preferred to be but at the gain of one of the things he wanted the most--power. Finally, he identified the dust and darts as some sort of stun mechanism, which easily explained the slight decrease in function of his confused and yet empowered organic mind and the numbness of his skin. Frankly, after what he had just been through, he liked this change--he was again a being of rationality and the pain that had been dancing upon his skin was dulled, leaving him with ultimate concentration. It also appeared that the Jedi had a broken arm, whih Haphaestus had probably inflicted at some point--such an injury, of course, would be the Jedi's downfall. All these musings took place in the span of .322 seconds, which was a pretty long time, actually, probably because he had just rebooted. Now the Jedi and the lightsaber were growing perilously close, and Haphaestus knew it probably wouldn't be a good idea just to take the hits. He knew exactly what to do--it was ridiculously simple now that he could think clearly again. Both the attacks of the incoming Jedi Master and the lightsaber from above were vertically planar--they were coming straight at him from before him and slightly above. His servomotors enhanced by the Force, he simply dodged to the side with as much speed as the Jedi himself had been dodging. As the lightsaber came down, suddenly it was the flying Jedi that would have to worry about getting out of the way. Meanwhile Haphaestus took a long step back and on the side of the Jedi's broken arm. Even as the Jedi landed, he then hurled his staff at the man's side, the action so quick that even if the Jedi had seen it coming it would be all but impossible for him to evade the attack, coming down as he was and the blow coming from the side with his broken arm. Well fought, Jedi, he thought, his minds still wrapping themselves around the huge strides forward he had taken over the course of this battle. ((3. Well done. I'll notify the mods.))

The two beings fought now, opposites in almost every respect. Haphaestus had enjoyed the success of his staff against the Jedi lightsaber, but now the smaller man had proven slippery enough to consistently evade his following attacks, a curious show of skill that Haphaestus had been fond of using himself in the past. Whether it would be necessary in this duel suddenly seemed questionable, as the Jedi made no move to recover his weapon and attack. If one fights without attacking, a blow will never be struck, he thought. It was actually an addage from some obscure culture, but it was also simple truth. From it Haphaestus now extracted one thing in particular--this Jedi had another means of attacking. If not directly from him via the Force, it would instead be from his allies. The Sith Master's premonition became truth when he detected small beads that his sensor systems immediately labeled as EMP devices. They detonated, but Haphaestus needed only a small fraction of a second to prepare for such an attack--all he needed to do was shield his eyes. In Lord Nurgle's brilliance, he had seen fit to cloth Haphaestus with living flesh. It was a large part of how he accessed the Force, and it was also a large part of his strange mix of life and machine. But this flesh was much better than that of humans, as it was an excellent insulator that protected him from many of the common weaknesses that machines shared, such as Electro-Magnetic pulses. Now, this would still be a problem, since his photoreceptors were without this covering of skin. In the blink of an eye, internal distortion fields raised--his model's original defense against this form of attack, he shut down his photoreceptors and many other internal functions that he could do without, and pulled up a Force shield around his systems to protect them from the ravaging energy that now enclosed him. The result was more or less satisfactory. Although his mental processing was tremendously fast, hardware often required a moment to shut off. He had to override some of these systems to protect them from the blast and it caused a number of programming assertions throughout his bodily systems. Here and there he lost a minor function, but he had saved his primary systems and now had to reboot several others. He had averted the worst of the attack, but the reboot would take several seconds, during which time he was without vision, sensors, a large amount of processing and deep storage memory, his ALU was out of it, several registers, and various other mechanical devices that made him function normally. In short, most droids would be borked, to label it with a crude Basic term. During these several seconds, Haphaestus experienced something very unusual--the complete takeover of his organic brain to fill all of the current functions of his consciousness, almost like the concept of brain plasticity at an extreme. For these several seconds, he suddenly thought as a pure organic would think, and, frankly, it was a completely alien experience. His thoughts seemed to slow and what he had referred to as toxins--emotions and biological sensations--were suddenly experienced as the sum of his existence. What he was feeling the most right now were pain from his skin, which was distressed by the physical attack as well, though not nearly to the extent of his mechanical being, and anger. Ah, yes, anger. That sensation which he had labeled "toxin 1", the base emotion of organic minds. Since he was a Sith, it was perhaps his favorite emotion, and suddenly nostalgia for all the times he had been angry rose into his mind. Training apprentices, fighting battles, killing bystanders--these things held a warm place in Haphaestus' proverbial heart. The greatest thing about anger, he noted with a touch of pure glee, was how it brought the mind to focus and made the dark side swell around him. Suddenly that lust for power that had brought him down this road swelled though him, and the dark side answered its call. There it was, so wonderfully dark and euphorically evil. Haphaestus cheerfully noted that his opponent had made a flaw in conceiving this attack--although he had designed it based on some assumption that Haphaestus was at least part machine, he had also designed it to fill the air with... energy. Energy that was now sucked into Haphaestus and instantly converted to a tremendous amount of rampant Force power. Without his superior mechanical processing to channel it properly, the Sith Master simply let it out in all its raw glory--the result was a wash of malevolent, coursing dark side power that was necrotic, poisonous, hot and cold all at the same time. It was just about everything dangerous in the galaxy whirled mindlessly about the room. Haphaestus let out raucous laughter, a sound his recovering vocabulator jargled and cracked, given to pure emotion for a moment of gleeful evil in the wake of which came such terrible wrath that he for the first time in his existence gave himself to it. It was something he would never allow himself to do when in control of himself properly, but now the dark side embraced his outburst like a father seeing his son take his first steps and trying to make those first steps as good as they could be. The Sith became a blur as his staff was once again whirling at his opponent regardless of whatever condition he was left with after the preceeding burst of dark side power. Never had Haphaestus experienced such a moment of pure, glorious insanity and at the same time such pure organic focus--his attacks came out perfectly every time and even those that missed their mark dented the floor and walls around him, such was the strength behind them. He almost didn't want his mechanical self to reboot, though that time was approaching rapidly. ((2... that was a fun post. ))

Haphaestus stayed completely still as the attack from many sources came in. He had no need to move, no need to evade the attacks, and no need to defend himself physically. Instead he drew himself deeply in the lightless side of the Force which he served and, specifically, tapped on the special abilities that Lord Nurgle had taught him on Almas. He absorbed energy from the environment around him. Arrayed against him were mostly bullets, grenades, and flame-based attacks. The flame was the easiest to absorb--it was raw energy and not very powerful. The bullets were a little trickier, but his advanced mind hypothesized on how to deal with them without letting them hit his armor and risk finding an unprotected sliver therein, then he implemented this hypothesis in the time it took the rounds and grenades to cross the distance to him. Instead of absorbing raw energy like fire, he instead took the kinetic energy of the bullets, absorbing it into his power reservoir. It took tremendous concentration to do such a thing given the multitude of incoming projectiles, but his mind was not bound to the constraints of those of many organics. It was truly powerful and he could focus on each shell as it approached and whisk away that energy that propelled it. Stripped of kinetic energy, the bullets fell to the ground harmlessly. As he absorbed these forms of energy, the grenades came in. Now his power reservoir was growing rapidly, and it took only a small manifestation of the immense power now at his command to employ simple telekinesis and turn the grenades aside to hit the walls or launch themselves back at Haphaestus' attackers. They detonated spectacularly, shredding bulkheads and spraying deadly shrapnel which was helpless against Haphaestus' dark side particle shield. The blaster bolts from the wolf spiders were a little more of a threat. Haphaestus' ability to pull energy from the environment could harness energy from blaster bolts, but he couldn't whisk them up in their entirity at his current level of skill--only weaken them. So as they came in he weakened them as he could and finally shifted his feet and posture so that several struck his armor in its strongest places and none found the few weak points. His armor was extremely well-built, his name no coincidence. It was archaic in appearance but built from overlapping layers that allowed for maximum coverage and flexibility both. Its material was darksteel, conventionally indestructable, and though it was tremendously heavy, he was not limited by such simple qualities as weight. They were correct to now retreat. He could not be brought down by weapons such as these, and now his power level was higher than it had perhaps ever been before. Finally the Jedi drew his lightsaber, and Haphaestus knew that he had come upon the truth--that was the only way he would ever fall. The dark side surged around him and in the blink of an eye he seemed to disappear from his current location and cross the distance to his target, the older of the Jedi, his staff now in his hands and his cape sweeping behind him. He put the power of the dark side and his powerful, hidden servomotors behind his first blow, wielding the tremendous force of a thick metal staff propelled by an engine that needed no muscles. And this was why even a lightsaber could not defeat Haphaestus--it was his superior choice of weapon. The staff could tangle with a lightsaber alright, but a lightsaber couldn't tangle with a staff; a blade of light was weightless and a Jedi wielding it that attempted to parry such a weapon took the full force of the blow on their wrists, having nothing solid with which to counter the weight of the staff. It was kinetic force that Haphaestus had absorbed in the beginning of the battle, and it was kinetic force that would make him the victor. ((1))

"The Jedi has boarded, my lord," an officer reported. "Captain," Haphaestus said, turning to face that officer, his voice especially intimidating on this fine day. "Take over the fleet. I will combat the boarding party." He then turned on his heel and left the bridge with long strides, his dark cape trailing behind him. It took him less than a minute to reach the Jedi--they had been making excellent progress through the rabble of stormtroopers that had rallied against them. But it was without stormtroopers that he now moved down the hallway towards the inevitable encounter. As he began to hear the humming of lightsabers, he used the Force to tuck his cape back behind the shoulder guards of his armor so that it would not interfere with his movements in combat. Then he drew from his back his weapon of choice--not a lightsaber, but a long, six-foot staff made of darkmetal. Finally he rounded the corner and found the Jedi and his apprentice. He had no escort, and the stormtroopers in the area had backed off or been killed. Their lives meant nothing to Haphaestus. Right now, the only lives he cared about were those of his opponents--and he cared about them only because he sought now to end them. He stopped and stared at them, completely still and in a stance that was deceptively utilitarian. His challenge was silent, and his encompassing armor of the same black metal that formed his staff hid him so well that one looking at him would have no idea what he was. Through the Force, he was an entity comprised of deepest darkness and, in the presence of enemies such as he was now, malice. ((I propose a three-post modded duel against you and your apprentice. You can start.))

Inquisitor Haphaestus watched the opening stages of the battle unfold in a detached sort of way. Ultimately, the lives of Imperial crewmen meant little to him, and he saw no flaws in his initial setup, especially now that his pincer movement was coming together and flanking warships were converging on the energy-filled nexus of the battle. The Star Cruisers were tough, to be sure, but he ordered the concentrated fire from his Star Destroyers' heavy guns on one of the cruiser's bow, and it didn't take long for even those tough shields to erode. But the Empire would not lose while he lived, and this was why: he now returned to his command chair and submerged himself in the dark side of the Force. When he had come into existance in his present form, it had been at the command of the Lord Nurgle, one of the Chaos gods. His role under Nurgle was to be his general, the commander of all his armies of shambling minions. As such, he had developed over the years an ability very similar to the Battle Meditation techniques of old. Through the dark side he stretched his influence across the battlefield until the Imperial fleet became him. It was like binding the whole fleet to one consciousness, controlling its elements like body parts, however sluggish. His machine-efficient mind and powerful tactical algorithms, reinforced and developed by thousands of years of experience and the ingenuity of an organic genius, then reformulated some of the specific positions of the ships involved in the growing conflict to maximize their efficiency. He touched the minds of his enemies as well, inspiring fear that caused them to make mistakes. He nearly crippled them with mere intent. He found the mind of General Aesop and began to suspect that more Republic ships were inbound--without words he adjusted his fleet to compensate. Then he found the mind of the sole Jedi in the area--one Scorp Ession. Come, little Jedi. While I live, you cannot win. Fight me.

((I don't think Haphaestus' nature is known to any save an extreme few, none of which could inform Slaughter.)) Haphaestus witnessed the arrival of the Republic fleet first hand out his Star Destroyer's front viewport. They had brought an impressive array of vessels, and the bulky Mon Calamarian designs of their Star Cruisers made them tough enough that his Victory-IIs would have a tough time punching through their shields. The Sith Master noted that he also had the numerical advantage by a few ships, and he would be sure to use them. With no signal that the Emperor had changed his mind and still wanted to move forward with the attack, he felt that there was no discussion to be had. The Republic task force was the answer to his actions, and he would have been extremely dissapointed if they had not come. How else was he supposed to find a challenge here? Haphaestus did not answer the communication. With the comm off, he gave a few orders. "Divide the support craft and attempt to flank the Republic fleet, one group on each side and one in the center," he said. "Send the assault frigates with them and have them concentrate fire on the Star Cruisers. Tell the Santa's Clause and the Ebon Hawk II to drop into the atmosphere, and do the same." This was where the advantages of Victory-class Star Destroyers shone. Not only were they capable of atmospheric flight when many Republic ships weren't, but they were outfitted with the batteries of long-range, high-powered turbolasers and ion cannons that would be extremely effective even from the back line. With a group of ships in between them and the Republic force, they would be well-protected and extremely deadly. "Angle to be parallel with the ground and watch planetary defenses," the Sith continued. They'd have a whole broadside for the planet below if there should be some resistance. "Launch fighters. Engage the enemy." Fighters streamed out and plans were implemented, and the first shots were fired. War had indeed once again come to the galaxy.

The story of the galaxy was a story of the wars that shaped it. There had been long millenia of peace during the height of what was now considered the Old Republic, but when one thought of those times in the past, the things that dominated their mentality were the Mandalorian Wars, the Great Sith War, the Jedi Civil War, and the numerous small conflicts that clouded the space around and between these catastrophic events. Now, once again, after much war between the Rebel Alliance and the Galactic Empire (the eventual evolution of the Old Republic into a far more efficient government), peace had once again been obtained, and the Alliance had taken up the name Republic once again, as if to signify that they would carry on the torch of peace that was left by their precursors. They had succeeded in that, but only briefly. Where the Old Repubic had stood for millenia, this new Republic's time of peace was already up. War had once again arrived in the galaxy, at Selvaris in the form of these vessels: 3 Victory II Class Star Destroyers 6 Assault Frigate Mark II 10 Gladiator Class Star Destroyer 10 Scythe-Class Main Battle Cruiser 20 Crusader-Class Corvette And a full complement of Miy'til fighters and Sith Interceptors, dated but effective snubfighters. On the bridge of the flagship, Starlisk's End, the Imperial Inquisitor Haphaestus stood, his imperious form striking to behold as he stood before the distinctive triangular front viewports. "Move into assault formation. Inform the planet's leaders that they have one hour to stand down, or we shall destroy them." It's judgment day on Selvaris.

"It shall be done," Haphaestus said, turning and leaving the same way through which he had come. He was no longer a wanderer among the stars, aimless except in contemplation. No, he was once again the Imperial Inquisitor, his old position reinstated with a thought. And now, in command of a battlegroup, worlds would fall before him. The Sith Lord stalked off the bridge and back to the hangar, his long, purposeful strides making officers step to the sides of the hallway so he could pass, his dark cape trailing behind him. He had to admit, he favored the dramatic flair of a cape, though at times they had been known to interfere in combat. Still, the factor of intimidation and perhaps the likeness to Darth Vader it gave him commanded respect from all those around him. Now he reached the hangar and took his small ship over to the Victory II-class Star Destroyer Starlisk's End, commanded by Captain Karson, which would be his flagship for the battle. In minutes he had siezed command of it and minutes after that, it had left the core and was en route to Selvaris.

Haphaestus was pleased with how smoothly the process had gone in meeting the Emperor. He had merely to announce his intentions and he had been granted permission to land, however briefly, before being summoned to accompany the Emperor himself. That is how he preferred it, for he was by nature a being of efficiency not only in action but in contemplation. Perhaps the Empire knew what was good for them, for defying him or making him tarry too long without acknowledgement, even in his infinite patience, would have been a mistake of the most dire nature. While he was patient, there were certain essential differences between the meaning of that word and 'longsuffering', differences that were exemplified in his imperious character. The Dark Side was Haphaestus' servant, and he was invincible even without it. The moment that that was overlooked would be the moment such a foolish beholder would cease to exist in the mortal world. His identification algorithms quickly noted that the Emperor was one man known by the moniker 'Black'. It wasn't his real name any more than Haphaestus was his, but it adequately represented him, as far as Haphaestus knew, in demeanor and, often, attire. Black's reputation was not lost on the Sith either, and he had internalized and analyzed tales of what this Emperor had accomplished. Black was, he noted, a reasonable man, contrary in many aspects to those before him to hold his title, such as Palpatine, Phillep, and Geki. Many of Haphaestus' quasi-religious likeness would think him weak for making the compromises of peace with the fledgling now-Republic. But Haphaestus understood his motives and respected that he would treat with even his opponents in such a way. All these musings took approximately .730778 seconds, and the Inquisitor was not tardy in his response to the Emperor's comm. "Immediately, my lord," he said in his dark voice, filtered through his helmet to give it a slight but definite mechanical tint. He landed his ship aboard the Solemn Harbinger swiftly and in the same manner deported himself from its confines and into those of the prodigious Star Destroyer's bridge. Heads turned when he entered, then quickly snapped back in place. Yes, the Imperials knew how to show their respect to the Sith. In turn, Haphaestus showed his respect for the Emperor with a silent bow, his tall, black-armored likeness shifting into the motion with the same natural grace as accompanied all his actions.

The galaxy was very old. Some knew this better than others, and there were levels of truth behind this knowledge. Some knew that the galaxy was old because they were scientists or historians. They knew from studying the passage of time that it had taken a long time for the galaxy to get to be as old as it is. Scientists knew that the galaxy was old because of how stars were formed and how they die, and the evidence that both have transpired billions of times. Historians knew that time was old because they perceived the volume of recorded actions that have taken place and realized that it took a long time for so many things to transpire. Haphaestus knew that the galaxy was old because he had been in it for a very long time. In this way, his knowledge of the galaxy's age was much more substantial. Things had taken place thousands of years ago and he had been there, or been in his erstwhile prison on Vjun. His infinite patience had been his entire existence, self-maintaining and logging information from each day of those thousands of years. The days were approaching 1.5 million, and he remembered them all. Everyone knew that the galaxy was filled with space. Space was full of stars and planets, but the distance between them was incredible. Some knew this better than others. Scientists knew how far this distance was because of their studies. They looked through telescopes and calculated distances and designed hyperdrives to make that distance seem shorter. Now the common citizen had no idea how much distance was really between stars, and couldn't come close to fully comprehending it. Haphaestus knew how much distance was between stars because he had been cruising at a little over the speed of light for a long time now, and he hadn't reached another system. Or, at least, hadn't until recently, and now he was on the outskirts of civilization once again. One final truth about the space in which he had wandered was that it was cold. Cold was a relative term, and some species were capable of surviving the vacuum, and thus wouldn't necessarily think it cold. Haphaestus felt the cold of space, which was really just the natural state of things when heat was not present. He had felt it and drew a conclusion from it””it was nothing compared to the coldness in his soul, at the center of his being. The blackness of space resided within him, and he carried it with him wherever he went. Cold, black, nothingness was ultimate. It was the place from whence everything came and to whence everything would return. As its agent, he would speed the process along whenever he could. His travels had taught him, and now he was back.

(( I'll repost things nice and clear so no one has to imagine anything. This is what I meant to say in my last post. I'm not trying to be difficult--honest.)) Haphaestus' elemental and physical attacks in combo and his mastery of the dark side were earning him a victory. He fought with more skill than he had summoned ever before, the sheer intensity of the battle beyond the craft his greatest source of power--a source greater than he had found before. Meanwhile, he was solidifying his mental link with one of the gunners of an errant and doomed Imperial vessel within striking distance. The gunner didn't have much skill, but Haphaestus seized his mind and lined up a perfect shot--one that coincided not only with a shorted shield bank, but very nearly the exact position of the Arach'tar commander Haphaestus was combatting. With a sudden thrust of Force energy, Haphaestus hurled his enemy into that position, then summoned a vast amount of pure cold, a transformation of the energy outside in a very potent, very tangible way. A block of ice instantly formed around the Arach'tar commander. It would only take the being a moment to break out, but the ship shook and a flurry of turbolaser blasts blew apart the wall, one of them bound to strike the powerful being. Haphaestus allowed himself a moment of brief satisfaction as the vacuum sucked him outside the vessel, wishing only that his photoreceptors had captured the event he knew he had bidden. Of course, he wasn't entirely sure the Arach'tar had been destroyed, but he calculated the chance of such an event being high. His biological parts prickled, but he could last indefinately in outer space, and with the dark side to guide him, he could make his way back to an Imperial vessel shortly--or just comm in and have someone retrieve him.

OOC: My PMs never received a straight answer. I'm not going to edit my post. It also holds how I was going to back Haphaestus out of the fight. Just instead of Ikera being vaporized with everything, he survived. If everyone would communicate with me a little better, this could have been avoided. Don't pretend you answered my PMs either. IC: Haphaestus continued to float through space, making his way back to a nearby Star Destroyer....

((I was, as requested, going to back out of this duel. However, this battle has completely stalled and I've attempted without avail to contact Ikera. In short, I invoke the 3-day rule. Sorry to anyone else who wanted a shot at him.)) Haphaestus' elemental and physical attacks in combo and his mastery of the dark side were earning him a victory. He fought with more skill than he had summoned ever before, the sheer intensity of the battle beyond the craft his greatest source of power--a source greater than he had found before. Meanwhile, he was solidifying his mental link with one of the gunners of an errant and doomed Imperial vessel within striking distance. The gunner didn't have much skill, but Haphaestus seized his mind and lined up a perfect shot--one that coincided not only with a shorted shield bank, but very nearly the exact position of the Arach'tar commander Haphaestus was combatting. With a sudden thrust of Force energy, Haphaestus hurled his enemy into that position, then summoned a vast amount of pure cold, a transformation of the energy outside in a very potent, very tangible way. A block of ice instantly formed around the Arach'tar commander. It would only take the being a moment to break out, but the ship shook and a flurry of turbolaser blasts blew apart the wall. A final blast struck the frozen Arach'tar dead-center. Ice evaporated and shattered, and with it went its contents. Haphaestus allowed himself a moment of brief satisfaction as the vacuum sucked him outside the vessel, wishing only that his photoreceptors had captured the event he knew had transpired at his bidding. His biological parts prickled, but he could last indefinately in outer space, and with the dark side to guide him, he could make his way back to an Imperial vessel shortly--or just comm in and have someone retrieve him.

((No need to explain. Just fight.)) Machines were almost always vulnerable to electricity. This fact came full circle and, though Haphaestus felt the Arach'tar's agony, it was soon coupled with a problem. Electricity was now flooding Haphaestus' very systems, and it was quickly reaching the point where he would sustain damage that would compromise his very existence. For he was forged by hardship, a dangerous mix of the systems required to remain a machine and yet still function as an organic. If he lost his mechanical systems, he would lose the battle. And his photoreceptors were the only place on his body where his chassis was not covered in Nurgle's thick, electricity-immune skin. Cunning, Haphaestus thought as his sight flickered out. He immediately starting shutting down and rerouting power systems, feeling power surges and taking a command over his circuitry that no other droid had--could have. Excess power levels detected. Circuits overheating. Time left to overheat: .01 seconds. For Haphaestus, that was plenty of time. Drawing deep into the Force, the Sith Master tapped into that energy and channeled it outward. It reversed flow, blasting out of circuitry using the same route through which it had entered. Haphaestus' photoreceptors exploded, but in a very confined method, sparing their surrounding systems but discharging in a very potent attack straight at the Arach'tar before him. But he knew this would be folly, so in the very small fraction of a second he had until his attack came to fruition, Haphaestus called another blast of Force energy rising from the ground to lift both figures off the ground. The electric discharge was channeled in its entirity into the Arach'tar commander's form, which was no longer grounded. His arm came free from the Sith's temple. This was only part of the problem. Haphaestus' arm was still lodged in the great metal form, and excess electrical energy danced over his armor before being quickly absorbed by his rubbery skin. With another thought about five milliseconds in the forming, the Sith Master fired something he hadn't used in a long time--a molten metal launcher on his trapped forearm. It was an old HK-series secondary weapon, and the flame blew through that arm's skin and through the nozzle he had built on his armor. The Arach'tar commander's grip quickly ceased, though Haphaestus knew not whether it was due to pain or an attempt to evade the extremely hot liquid. As the two beings hit the ground, seperated again, Haphaestus did a diagnostic, yet another lightning-fast process. Photoreceptors disabled. Language files corrupted. History files corrupted..... Minor damage to CPU. Error x1der4520. Extreme levels of toxins 1 and 2 detected. Toxins 1 and 2 were what Haphaestus' mechanical being called anger and frustration, emotions that Haphaestus' organic self still felt but that he could look upon as simple assets and imbalances. Too much of either could fray the link between organic and mechanical function, so he usually looked immediately for an outlet. In this case, one was immediately before him. Though he could not see in the conventional sense, the Sith Master knew exactly where his target was and now was all the wiser on how to proceed. Conventional attacks with staff and limb were useless. His biological half was starting to scream due to extensive use of the dark side, but Haphaestus had always been able to use his mechanical discipline to overcome it, and this was no exception. Early on in his training, Haphaestus had taken a liking to the elements. More recently, he had forged lightsaber crystals in a furnace of his own design. He had studied cold and, most extensively, lightning, which had worked with varying degrees of success so far. Attacking the Arach'tar with the very end of his staff to maximize his reach and limit the consequence of failure, the Sith Master used a combination of remaining sensors and Force acuity to make his assault on the being he faced. His memory corruption was making him a little confused, but he focused entirely on the moment, on defeating the enemy before him. He would work out the semantic limitations of the weaknesses in his near-perfect design later. As he attacked with his staff, he summoned the elements to his aide, calling extensively on the dark side and on the power of the battle raging around them. A gout of flame here to counter one dodge, a burst of extreme cold behind it. Metal was heated to melting point then flash-frozen in place a second later, causing intense stresses. He was fighting an opponent he could not grapple and could not attack physically, but his extreme knowledge of the dark side and his superior design would win the day. And, in the back of his mind, he was stretching out with his feelings, reaching for the minds of gunners in capital ships dozens of clicks away, preparing another assault of a different nature.... ((2. Sorry this one was so long.))

OOC: I wasn't going to challenge you, but if you're offering, I accept. IC: Haphaestus felt the deaths of the stormtroopers around him. Had he been one to adopt such a motion, he would have shrugged. They were insignificant, but before him towered a being that was a threat to the galaxy. Though Haphaestus despised many of the beings the Arach'tar were killing, simply put, everything he knew was of this galaxy. Without its continued existence, how could he expect to prosper? It seems that this being knows that which I am, my name included, Haphaestus thought, though his thoughts weren't like those organics but transpired at thousands of times the rate. Curious. Again, a semantic that was unimportant. The challenge that lay before Haphaestus was marvellous, no mean task but also extremely conquerable by a being of his caliber. Judging the currents in the Force Haphaestus had been monitoring, this was not a being to be reasoned with, though he was decidedly curious about another being that claimed to be like him. Perhaps, when this commander was a corpse, Haphaestus would take it with him and study it, perhaps to find some technology to improve upon himself. That was, if the Arach'tar were as advanced as they claimed. The Imperial Inquisitor was here to test that. So far, he hadn't been impressed. Rather than speaking, Haphaestus attacked. He closed the distance between himself and the Arach'tar in half a second and struck with his incredible strength and speed at the fluid form before him, utilizing the perfect balance of the heavy metal staff he carried. But this was not an attack in itself, for he knew that this being would not fall as easily as the Crusaders before it. As the Sith Master swung, he let loose a barrage of Force lightning--a favored technique of his--directing it in a concentric torrent expanding from his staff. Machines were almost always vulnerable to electricity, so this was more likely to succeed than a simple staff swing. But even that was not enough. A wave of pure Force energy washed from behind Haphaestus in a sweep that would disrupt the Arach'tar's defensive tactics. A three-pronged attack was a good start, feuled by the energies of the battle outside the ship, granting Haphaestus an extreme Force acuity, even one beyond that of what he was--a being of unlimited focus and unbreakable concentration and impenetrable certainty, drawing on a power feuled by faith and emotion; a machine, granted the intense emotional possibilities of a biological, forming a perfect hybrid of two very different forms of existence; a Sith Master, as accomplished in instruction and experience as some of the greatest Sith in the history of the galaxy; a creation of and apprentice to Nurgle, nothing less than a god, a force as great as Rev'Nullem, who the Arach'tar served. Haphaestus knew his opponent's might was great as well. Now titans met to test their full skill. Haphaestus relished the challenge. ((1))

((Please notice my last post I have removed. I sort of missed the part about the Crusaders.)) Haphaestus' stormtroopers rounded a corner and were met by carnage. They had left the hangar and worked through a few rooms, but they were rather unprepared for the Crusaders that awaited them through a particular doorway. The Sith Master himself twirled his darkstaff before him with blinding speed and impeccable precision, batting away the various energy and metallic projectiles hurtling towards him. His reflexes were aided by the Dark Side, and he drew power from all that was transpiring around him. One like him could be stronger in no setting more than a fleet battle, where the very energy being used to power capital ships and the very turbolaser bolts in the air were just another source of power to him. Stormtroopers continued to fall around him unless they moved immediately behind him, which some of them did. He was persistent and unfailing when it came to stopping every projectile within a reasonable threat of hitting him or his immediate charges, even occaisonally using the Force or, say, his arm to stop an attack that his staff did not meet. The staff was as tough as the armor that enshrouded his tall, dark form, and he advanced against the Arach'tar elites with all the threat of impending doom that a Death Star could muster. And the Arach'tar knew about Death Stars, didn't they? Reaching a Crusader, Haphaestus twirled his staff wide and slammed it into the machine, letting a few projectiles hit his chest as he did so, unchecked by their power. His blow was powered by inhuman strength and the Dark Side alike, and his Force-born foresight caused him to react even before the Crusader dodged. As a result, the attack hit and split the machine in two, though it were not the type of blow usually attributed to such an effect. Though this seemed to transpire in slow motion, the Sith became a blur as he challenged the remaining Crusaders, dashing between targets and landing machine-crushing blows. Not all at which he struck were hit, and not all that were hit were destroyed, but he moved with impossible speed and took hits as though someone was throwing peas at him. Of course, a particularly good shot could find one of the necessary flaws in the armor, but Haphaestus' speed, reflexes, and tangible Force barrier protected him as he leapt from target to target, sometimes bashing them half a dozen times in the span of a second.

((Ignore this post, please.))

Although harried by Arach'tar resistance, Haphaestus' squadrons broke through the lines and hurtled towards the Heretic's Fall, the flagship of the extragalactic fleet that had brought the different sides of the Galactic Civil War together. Haphaestus' TIE was almost completely unchecked, its superior maneuverability at the hands of a being greater than perhaps any other who had flown a starfighter making it impossible to hit or halt. The stormtrooper transports weren't nearly as maneuverable or well-piloted, but Haphaestus calculated and navigated the best courses through enemy lines, protecting those that came behind him. He did this largely mechanically, but the Force was also instrumental... and the energy field was full of the chaos not only of battle, but of a war between two Masters of its usage, polar opposites in many ways but similar in others. Haphaestus believed he was superior to both, and his skill at placing his starfighter, flanked by stormtrooper transports, in the Arach'tar hangar bay was a testament to his belief. Before setting down, he strafed the bay with ion and laser cannons, subduing any immediate resistance before it could be organized. He was careful not to compromise the hangar's functionality in the process, of course, though both he and stormtroopers could survive exposure to vacuum for at least enough time to start infiltration processes. In the next moment, he was outside his ship and ordering the surviving stormtroopers to form up on him. He unceremoniously headed for the nearest door and, with a slight mental exertion, breached it with the dark side. The metal crumpled and tore away, and Haphaestus pulled his darkstaff off his back, ready to meet whatever rose to challenge him.

Haphaestus nodded, accepting the datapad. He glanced over its contents for about half a second, then tossed it into the pits that adorned the sides of the bridge on Star Destroyers. He might have hit one of the officers, but he didn't stop to check. He was on his way down to the hangar, tuning into the battle frequencies and listening to comm chatter. There was a message coming in for Deton, but Haphaestus interjected his voice onto the channel. "I will accompany you, General Sairdonga," he said, his voice intoned carefully but to an extent that it sounded only cold. "I will bring stormtroopers." He then ordered a battalion to meet him in the hangar. He didn't need nearly so many, but he expected some to die in the flight over. And it was always nice to take a ship with enough men to do it all at once, rather than being an individual clearing room after room until reaching the bridge and shutting the ship down until a more thorough sweep could be executed. When he arrived, the ranks were already forming and loading onto transports. He himself would pilot whatever he could find--his personal ship was not suited for combat. Scanning the hangar, he picked a TIE Defender, the most advanced TIE that SFS had put out. Climbing in, he took a millisecond to familiarize himself with how to fly it and commed the assembled transports, as well as General Sairdonga. "Follow me," he said. A moment later, the strike force was en route for the Arach'tar flagship, Haphaestus' TIE in front. "Spread out to minimalize collateral damage." It would be a rough flight over, no doubt.

The Imperial Inquisitor Haphaestus stepped onto the bridge behind Deton. He was clad in black armor with a black cloak, all-encompassing so that none of his skin was showing. He was a complete enigma, a being of immeasurable complexity behind a dark, intimidating facade. And he didn't carry lightsabers, but a six-foot staff of the same dark metal as his armor. It was solid and heavy, and the Sith Master had choosen it over lightsabers simply because it was more effective. He stood off to the side and reached out in the Force to gauge the battle going on around him. He opened his mind to the death and destruction that formed a typhoon around Gromas, and basked in it. Turbolaser and ion beams were everywhere, and he recognized them as a source of power as he had been instructed by Dominus. Such a horrible tide was an unlimited power source to him. As he stood he became as still as stone, waiting; biding his time. He looked forward to meeting these Arach'tar face-to-face and killing them. They believed themselves to have vastly superior technology, but they had never encountered something like Haphaestus. In some ways, he was like them. Only better.

Haphaestus quickly reforged his Darkmetal armor and a new Darkstaff, having found Darth Dominus mysteriously missing, then departed the world of Almas for an unknown destination....