Corellia

[Darth Nyrys]

Darth Nyrys’s Sith fleet reverted into realspace in position to form up with the other forces of the Dark Lord, with the exception of the Abyss Triumphant, which remained out of range of the conflict for the time being. All captains reported green across the board and were ready to bring the Emperor’s wrath to this rag tag band of terrorists, pirates, and dissidents. 

 

“Captain Ladrimayne has the con, ready my shuttle, the darkness guides my blade to Coronet City.”

 

Nyrys had seen enough battle to learn how to discern where the most interesting opponents, and an enemy that she had not yet encountered loomed on the horizon of possibilities.

 

Spoiler

 

Task Forces

Argent Scythe (Railgun Destroyer)

Fair Lady of Iziz: 20/20

 

Veil of Shadows (Light Defensive Escort)

Jendra’s Song: 3/3

Atani’s Vigil: 3/3

The Lucky Pair: 3/3

Xuri’s Resolve: 3/3

Alpha: 2/1

Beta: 2/1

Gamma: 2/1

Omicron: 2/1

 

In reserve

Abyss Triumphant (Interdiction Cadre)

Bewitching Lover(Interdictor): 9/9

Lovelorn Wraith: 3/3

Lust: 2/1

Envy: 2/1

Desire: 2/1

Betrayal: 2/1

 

 

[Darth Nyrys]

The Sable Blade, a Sith shuttle from the Fair Lady of Iziz, finished it’s microjump from the orbit of New Centerpoint to Corellia, and began its descent to the world’s surface. The planet was slowly choking itself under the mantle of industry, a fate shared by many worlds that were entangled in the webs of the intergalactic military industrial complex. Kuat had the foresight to build their production facilities in orbit, but many other worlds had sacrificed their own viability in exchange for the vast amounts of credits that the business offered. The grime and oil covered most of the populace like an unctuous outer layer, as if to subsume them into the machines that they serviced. Many had resigned themselves to their fates as part of the colossal contraptions that served the shipyards, but others fought against the crushing of their spirits. Ironically it was the shackles of industry that most likely fueled the populace’s obsession with ships and piloting, ships were freedom, the chance at a life unbound to the gears and the ceaseless grind.

 

Those that could fly, fix, or con well enough were able to escape the planet’s clutches, to break their chains. It was a perfect example of the Sith code at work, the ordinary becoming fodder for the great, while the truly talented rose to live a life of their own. Such people were always interesting, and Nyrys looked forward to meeting them once Corellia was liberated from the Alliance’s yoke of mediocrity. 

 

The shuttle landed, and the Sith warrior disembarked alone. She had Gwn Marwolaeth  sheathed to her back, and Gwell Na Rhyw thrummed excitedly in its sheathe on her hip. The two blades could be considered to represent the twin driving forces within Nyrys, the sword being her dedication to the warrior path, her discipline in training, and self improvement, and the machete embodied her passionate side, her embrace of the visceral world, and the acceptance of her own desires.

 

She was drawn to a rare jewel in Coronet City’s cityscape, the botanical and zoological gardens. There was the sense of confinement and hunger in the air, an iron bulwark sealing away a savage hunger that was bordering on starvation. Oh and there were animals there too. But as cute and boopable as the durni were, Nyrys’s focus was narrowing in on the the pangs she felt of an emaciated beast that conjured the image of an axe, a sharpened edge empowered by raw force. 

 

The park was closed, with the sun on the verge of setting or rising, Nyrys didn’t know and it looked like it could go either way. She stopped at an unattended snack cart, and after perusing the options she grabbed a few bars, leaving some credits on the cart’s surface. The Sith Lady pressed onward into the botanical section, finding herself amidst a grove of trees. In spite of the constructed nature of the park, this place resonated with natural songs, and Nyrys wanted to run, and pounce, and hunt. The Jedi liked to claim that they had a monopoly on the natural world, but in truth the Sith could be equally at home amidst the wilds, although it stirred a different part of the psyche in them.

 

She spotted the one that she was looking for, a sleight woman with ebon locks and violet eyes. At first glance she looked human, but decidedly inhuman tendrils were protruding from her mouth. Nyrys’s unnatural eyes saw within her a coiling hunger, held within a steel ribcage that glowed whitehot with focus and rage. In another life the woman would have made a fine Sith warrior. She took out one of the snack bars and tossed it in the woman’s general direction.

 

“For the love of all the stars and planets in the sky, we can go grab a meal before we do this, but at the very least, eat the motherpfasking Crunchamunch bar. I could literally sense your hunger from low orbit. Like I can ZapaMap us a nearby diner or something and we can get you some food, my treat. Are they not feeding you guys, or is this like a body image issue thing, because sweetie, you don’t have to kill yourself for some impossible male standard, you look great.”

[Darth Nyrys]

Whatever stood before Nyrys was no Jedi. That much was apparent now. There was a sickness to her that felt unnatural even to Nyrys. Unlike the Sith, who mastered the Dark Side and used it to achieve their own goals, this thing was enthralled by the darkness, like some kind of zombie or rabid beast.

 

“Clearly you are in pain,” Nyrys spoke in firm, measured words as she drew Gwn Marwolaeth, “Allow me to offer you some measure of peace.”

 

The warrior adopted a boar’s tooth guard, right foot forward and blade angled downward. Advancing quickly but not at a full on charge, she moved towards the peripheral, ready to dart away or deflect an incoming attack as needed. The spear was a defensive weapon, and engaging an enemy required careful consideration, and foolishness was a great way to get skewered. 

 

So rather than charging in, Nyrys called upon her assassin training, fanning the flames of hunger and rage that she felt within her opponent. She was no stranger to either emotion, and ever since her first Force bond, with the Krath master Sheog, she had an intimacy with starved frenzy and the thrill of consuming others.

[Darth Nyrys]

A two pronged attack was being hurled Nyrys’s way, making her thankful that she had not simply charged in. This allowed her to pick her poison, so to speak, and that was an easy choice. Most Force wielding duelists used their powers of telekinesis to move objects and other people, but assassins were taught to think about applications of the Force in unconventional ways. Of the two choices, the fire was by far favorable to the puncturing bite of the stiletto, so in the precious fractions of seconds that Nyrys had, she exerted her will to evade the blade and face the flames.

 

Her armor blazed with eldritch pathways and dark glyphs as hungry flames washed over her. The fire was unnatural, and bit at her like a rabid hound, while the force of it sent her flying backwards. She recognized some of her own hunger in the bite marks. Split second moments of self reflection crashed and tumbled through her brain, questioning if she was truly on the right path. Faces of friends, of happiness, of shared moments crept into her psyche. And yet, her hunger had never been an expression of inner greed, but starvation in a galaxy that often had no place for people of the “wrong” species. It was through her pain and rejection that she had found the people that had come to mean the most to her, other than her parents.

 

Her flesh sizzled under the relentless heat, nerves screaming in agony before falling strangely silent. Mustafar and working in the forges had to some degree prepared her body for how to fight through intense heat, but this was something that even surpassed those experiences. Nothing could have ever truly prepared her for this. Even as the monster inside of her raged at her to get up, to charge forward and tear the thing that had wounded her apart limb from limb, a great lethargy fell upon her limbs. The blast carried her back with such momentum that she actually slid on the dew slick grass once she hit it, eventually coming to a stop several meters away. Would it be so bad to just let things end here? She felt so tired, and as she lay in the grass she could see beyond the liminal sky into the void beyond, a place without pain or despair, only silence. Wouldn’t that be nice?

 

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and looking over saw one of her little nephews on Kuat, ginger haired and freckled, he wanted to show her something. She must have fallen asleep on the couch, studying for school was always wrecking her sleep schedule. One of her uncles made a joke about cat naps, but it was the good kind of joke, not one soaked in acid or venom. Something was cooking in the kitchen, these family gatherings always meant lots of food. Frankly Ailbasí didn’t know how her aunt did it in such a small kitchen. Every year her father would offer to host, but none of them ever had the leave to be able to get away from the docks. It seemed like mandatory wartime work shifts were never going to go away.

 

Her nephew started to say something, but was interrupted by a cough. He got out his medbreather, asthma was fairly common in their family. A deep coughing fit tore from his lungs, and soon was echoed throughout the tiny habcube. This wasn’t asthma. The coughing did not cease, and black smoke began erupting from everyone’s mouths and nostrils. What had once been joy upon everyone’s faces was replaced with panic and terror, and blisters of melting flesh started blooming across their skin. Ailbasí felt the heat too, coming from her armor? A final wave of incinerating heat surged through the room, and Ailbasí was back in the park. She hadn’t been there when the Jedi had attacked Kuat, but the burns that she had just now received had given her a new intimate understanding of how her family had died. She saw them now, the way she always saw them in her nightmares, nightmarish parodies of her family covered in weeping burns and denuded by the raw heat of the turbolaser blasts. They gathered around her with twitching, broken gaits, and seeing them made her desire feel shameful.

 

They pressed in on her, but as they laid their hands on her she did not sense judgement from them, only sadness. This was her family, and even through death they were here for her. They picked her up off the ground and came together in a great embrace. She could feel them giving her their pain, their sorrow, their regret, and in time each one had melded into her armor and her soul. Their faces could now be seen amidst the molten surfaces of the exterior, a mark of the truest form of sacrifice. She had wept for their loss since the day she had found out about it, but now she had a greater understanding of their pain, and it had come to reside within her. A ring of fire roared outward from Darth Nyrys, woven of pain and memory. The nearby trees ignited and the grass steamed off its sheathing of dew before also succumbing to flame. Only the Jedi, protected by its innate Force aura, remained untouched.

 

Darth Nyrys looked upon the creature in front of her, and saw in it the same hatred and obsession that had been with the Jedi and the rebels when they had set Kuat to the metaphorical torch. When Exodus had asked her about her place in the Darkness, she had told him that she had wanted to be a righteous devil, and before her she saw someone worthy of the most vicious torments. She would strangle the vile sinner with its own chains and cast her into a pit of flames whose black smoke would form pillars rising up into eternity. 

 

Sacred wrath blazed through her muscles, consuming the false peace that her wounds had tried to seduce her with. Readying her sword, she gathered the smoke and heat that the world was bleeding around her and advanced with terrible focus. Her sword blazed with anticipatory revel and roared a primal, wordless battlecry across the ether. She launched into another lateral movement, but this time she used the Force to redirect her momentum as she closed into a direct charge. The smoke that she had gathered was imbued with the thermal, concussive, and spiritual energies that her armor had stored from the Jedi’s attack, a screaming malformed thing made of both their souls, and launched as a roaring wave with the intent to push aside the Jedi’s spear and disrupt her song with smoldering ash. 

 

Hot on its heels came a downward diagonal strike that sought to capitalize on the potential for an opening. The blade was nearly weightless on the rise but fell with meteoric force, the unseen power of a Sith warrior who properly wielded a Sith sword was in the manipulation of the interaction between the physical world and its mechanical energies. What to an outsider looked like a simple sword swing was both an expression of physical and spiritual might, the unity of purpose expressed from without and within.

 

"Choke on your own hypocrisy, you motherpfasking kath!"

 

((2, forgot to number post 1))

Edited August 11, 2020 by Darth Nyrys
Added in dialogue at the end with opponent's consent, agreement PMed to Leena Kil

[Darth Nyrys]

Nyrys grinned behind her mask, thrilled to have such a capable opponent. Every challenge was an opportunity to improve one’s measure, and the greater the adversary, the more a warrior was forced to grow. Or perish. This one would be a boon to Nyrys’s reputation if she could be put down. Trusting in her skill, the warrior let her blade leave her hands, sending it into the dirt with explosive force behind the Jedi. This freed her body to move significantly faster, and she evaded the thrust spear tip by twisting her torso sideways which progressed into a roll away from the Jedi.

 

 

She felt the Jedi trying to burn away her darkness from within, and rather than flee from it she spiritually leaned in on the attack. Fire burned indiscriminately, and the connection between the two put her enemy’s own wrath and hunger within range to be set ablaze with equal conviction. She could feel her own appetite for the consumption of mortal flesh slipping away, and while it limited her power, that desire had always seemed… alien to her, having never been particularly gluttonous before she became a Sith. Perhaps it had been imbued upon her by her first master, Sheog, who was known for his cannibalistic gluttony. 

 

She wanted to lash out at her enemy, to destroy the Jedi in an overwhelming display of force, but she had grown so much since her earlier days of recklessly charging every obstacle head on with her newfound power. A direct confrontation of strength and spiritual power would be foolish and just playing into the hands of her opponent, she needed a different approach. So she put aside her own passions and propelled herself back into the miasma of smoke and flame that was enveloping the field. Neither light or dark, but a being of dusk. She had hated the weakness that had defined her old life, and in the clarity of the flames that burned her hunger, she realized that she could not excuse away the sins of the strength that had defined her new life. 

 

“You need me to fight to justify the sickness that you’ve been nurturing inside of you. Because the more monstrous I am, the more excuses you can make to feed your own pfasked up delusions that what you are doing is necessary. But the truth is you’re just as broken as I am, trying to force some measure of control on a galaxy that is beyond anyone’s ability to rein in. 

 

I am not your villain.”

 

Phantoms of past versions of herself gathered around her, snapshots of her in times of weakness and strength, and she broke the chains to each of them in turn, until only her new truth remained. The ghostly figures each had a measure of the Jedi’s flame blossoming within them until they each became a pyre. They surrounded and closed in on the Jedi with haunting deliberation, each one a torchbearer of the exorcist’s own hypocrisy, conjured to bring her own flame back to roost. Even as they left her, Nyrys knew that she wasn’t alone, the memories of her family that she carried with her were more than just her last moments, and they stood by her through vengeance and forgiveness, because that’s what family did.

 

“I no longer need them, but I think that you still do, so hack away at the shadows of the past if it suits you. When the fires die, there will still be enough of me left to go on living. I wonder if the same can be said about you?”  

 

 

((3))

Edited August 22, 2020 by Darth Nyrys
Chad shouldn't post while sleep deprived

[Darth Nyrys]

Cut off from her access to the Dark Side, and untrained in the Light Side to any degree that could charitably be referred to as proficient, Ailbasí did what she could to at least reorient the attacks to land parallel instead of perpendicularly. The arrow shafts shattered on her armor, but the stilettos struck with ruinous force even on their sides, and one that had remained unturned pierced through near her shoulder.

 

The fire that the attacks burned with could no longer find any purchase on her soul, having already let go of the Darkness within. She didn’t even have a weapon drawn. Maybe it was the severe trauma, burns, and blood loss talking, but she could swear that she felt strange alchemies within her, the transfiguration of fire and blood resulting from the transgressive use of holy flame on someone who had chosen a new path… or at least had abandoned the old one.

 

She didn’t know what the future held. Maybe her story ended here, after all, her connection to the Dark Side was gone, so there was no guarantee of a repeat of what happened the last time that she had died. She could find some measure of acceptance with that, she just hoped that if that was the case somebody else could put down this monster before it hurt more people.

 

((Closing Defense))