During the Awakenings conflict, you have been sent to intercept a member of another faction. Your objective is to delay or neutralize them, but you are not to kill them. Will you succeed or fail? Capture or convert? The choice is yours.
Maelous Ascarend & Atra Ventus
Rules:
Fragment of Dentavii
Orian System
Maelous stood at the edge of one of the many pieces of Dentavii. There was no wind, and nearly no sound. The thin atmosphere gave the shattered remains of the planet an eerie quiet. His helmeted head was tilted back as he watched the ripples move across the surface of Ombus. The Sith Warrior took a deep breath of the clean air that filled his armor.
This is what we have been waiting for! the voice in his mind said manically, For years we looked for how to make this and then we…, the voice began to trail off. There was a sudden scream in his mind that caused the exile to flench. The scream died out and were replaced by incomprehensible whispers.
He ignored the hushed sound and lifted his arm in front of him, He tapped at the datapad attached to his forearm and examined the read out. It was difficult to get accurate information with Ombus as active as it had been. Maelous turned his head to the right and scanned the horizon, ignoring the ships that hung in space above it, and began to walk.
The Sith looked down at the datapad again. The device indicated that a temple should be just passed the rise in the landscape that lay ahead of him. He scanned the surrounding area, So many places to hide, the voice said before going back to its whispering. Enough, Maelous thought back angrily, you’re dead. Stop haunting me. The voice laughed then it was gone.
Maelous felt a change in the Force as the laughter cut off. The presence was familiar, but he couldn’t place why. He looked up, his head moving from side to side as his corrupted eyes darted about behind the darkened lenses as he hunted for it’s source. A transport shuttle came up over the edge near where he had been standing. It flew in a wide arc around him before landing a short distance away.
He was too focused on the lowering ramp of the ship to notice that he instinctively reached into the pouch on his hip withdrawing three durasteel pyramids before the ramp touched down. As it did, he lifted his hand and the three projectiles danced in the air above it. The moment the first trooper came into view the Sith Marauder used the Force to hurl them at him. Two hit the armored trooper in the chest, sending him stumbling. The third caught him in the neck, it cut through the soft cloth, and into the man’s throat, spraying blood across the shuttle’s ramp. He went down in a heap and caused the those behind him to hesitate.
In the time it took them to recover, Maelous had his saber out and was closing the distance, “This is all you come with?” he yelled, “Pathetic troopers!” Three of them had taken up position and started firing. The Sith drew on the Force to amplify his speed as he dodged their blaster fire. He stepped forward, bringing the saber up, and deflecting a shot back into one of his foes. With only two left he jumped, the Force giving his muscles the extra strength to spring high and cover the distance, he brought the lightsaber blade down as he landed, cutting through one of the trooper’s chests. The crimson blade hummed as it spun around, Maelous didn’t bother to turn around as he stabbed the final enemy through the heart.
He looked down at the bodies and snorted as he kicked at one of the dead. He heard a tapping and looked up just in time to see a trooper that had remained inside the shuttle. He brought his blaster rifle up and then try and drive the butt of it into Maelous’ face. The Force allowed the Sith to move quickly enough that it connected with his shoulder, the force of it causing him to drop his saber.
He stumbled back away from the behemoth of a trooper. He began to laugh softly at first but it quickly turned into something dark and disturbing. Maelous’ hand shot forward and there was a brief crackling before lightning erupted from his fingers. The dark side energy struck the heavy trooper in the chest and he began to seize. Every muscle in the man stiffened and he fell over as Maelous stood over him howling with laughter as he let the concentrated rage pour into the man’s body.
When smoke started to rise from the body, he stopped. Maelous breathed heavily as his ears picked up a sound. It, like the presence, was familiar but unclear in his mind. He looked around for his saber, finding it quickly, and caused it to levitate to his hand. He straightened himself and looked up as a figure emerged from the back of the shuttle, slowly clapping. Atra stepped into view and smiled at Aedile, “Nice, quick work, Maelous.”
Fragment of Dentavii
Orian System
The Quaestor leaned against the opening with his left arm raised, the clawed fingers of his cybernetic prosthetic providing a support for his forehead. His hair was parted lazily, the shaggy mess hiding his more natural eye from view while the corruption of his left eye seemed to pulse with anticipation. Maelous took a wary step back, putting space between himself and the Battlemaster. From behind his mask, the Warrior’s gaze was steady and hardened, and yet his expression was one of caution. Memories, as they so often do, came unbidden into the man’s mind.
Pain. Fiery and hot. Searing through his flesh.
“Can’t even take a compliment, eh?” Atra’s cheshire grin spread impossibly wide. “Sometimes I wonder if you wear that mask of yours or mayhap it wears you.”
The Umbaran turned his gaze to the side slightly, pressing the fingers of his right hand against his communicator. As he did so, Maelous took another step to center his stance, raising his weapon steadily and pressing his thumb toward the stud that would trigger the deadly plasma to surge forth.
“Hey there Blood, found your lost property,” Atra began speaking without so much as looking at Maelous, an insult all its own. The proud Warrior’s lips curled with disgust at the blatant disrespect, igniting his weapon and pointing the sanguine tip towards the Dakhani before him. The signature snap-hiss drew Atra’s gaze, but the man reacted with nothing more than mouthing the word ‘rude’ before glancing away again. “Oh yeah, no problem. You want to tell him that? Great, before or after he tries to separate my head from my shoulders? You may not have noticed lately, but I’m sort of attached to it.”
Maelous, ever so clearly, had had quite enough of Atra’s indifference. He bent his knees and springboarded forward, his cloak billowed in his wake as he sought to drive his blade straight through his target. Atra responded with preternatural swiftness, rolling forward and under the impending threat. The older Sith’s blade sent a shower of sparks as it carved a glowing wake through the durasteel of the shuttle’s entryway where Atra had been not a breath before.
“What do you mean ‘what was that’? Yes, he is very much attacking,” Atra continued as Vestigium of Duriel sprang to life in his left hand. The weapon’s cerulean glow stood out in stark contrast to the crimson of his would-be assailant. “Have you even met your Aedile?”
With a battle cry, the Sith Warrior charged out of the darkness of the shuttle, long strides closing the distance between himself and Atra even as the latter back pedalled with haste. Maelous maintained his pace as he grinned with anticipation behind his mask, his saber weaving back and forth through his filtered vision before slashing towards Ventus’ right side. The Umbaran stepped back with his right foot while reaching out with his opposite arm to press his blade against that of his attacker, the momentum of his pivot carrying him out of harm’s way while pushing the crimson weapon to the side.
“I’m hanging up now, daddy’s gotta go to work.” Atra muttered into his still active commlink before dropping his right hand down to his side and releasing the activator.
“I remember you having more pride for your fellow warriors, Ventus,” Maelous’ words were muffled by his visor, but no less disdainful.
Atra spread another toothy grin, his enlarged canines pressing tightly against his pale lips. “That’s cause I actually gave a damn back then.”
Maelous dashed forward, his blade swinging left then right as it bounced off Atra’s deft parry and came back around before the Umbaran had a chance to make a riposte. The Snow Dragon dropped low, swivelling his head under the swing and attempting to cleave through Maelous’ torso with a rising slash. A sudden surge of Force energy rippled outward as the Warrior launched himself backwards, evading the assault and putting space between them once more. Ascarend wasted no time opening the pouch at his side once more, motioning with his left hand. Three durasteel pyramids launched towards Atra like bullets, but the Umbaran merely held out his right palm and projected a wall of solidified Force energy which deflected the projectiles off harmlessly off course.
Atra spun his saber in his left hand before shifting the hilt into his right, rising to his full height and placing his left arm behind the small of his back. “We both know that we can keep each other occupied here for quite some time, and as enjoyable as that sounds I just have one, very simple question for you,” the Quaestor spoke once more, his voice positively chilling. “Who’s reinforcements you think are gonna get here first?”
Fragment of Dentavii
Orian System
Maelous laughed in derision as he slowly step forward. He let the tip of his saber blade casually drop toward the ground. “Reinforcements,” he said as if testing the word, “Is that what is required for you to take me in now?” He snorted as he stopped only a few feet from his opponent. “I remember a time you could have easily ended my existence.” The voice that normally raged in Maelous’ mind was quiet as he eyed the Battlemaster from behind his dark lenses.
Atra let his grey eyes take in the Warrior before him. He smirked, “Blood wants me to leave you for him to ‘punish’.” The Umbaran deactivated his lightsaber, “You’ve really pushed him this time.”
The Aedile cocked his head to the side, “Because I chose to follow a prophecy instead of being involved in some petty power struggle?”
The Long eyed Maelous’ still glowing blade. He knew the man well and knew that the still active saber was not meant as an insult but was just part of his distrustful, Sith nature. Atra looked up at the lenses of the man’s helmet. “It’s more than that, Ascarend. He sees it as a betrayal of Locke.”
He laughed, then abruptly stopped. You cannot trust this one, the voice in his mind chidded, He won’t understand what we’ve done, what we will…
“Shut Up!” Maelous roared out loud.
Atra jumped a bit at the unexpected outburst, then looked around, “You should probably come with me. Ombus is obviously affecting you because I didn’t say…”
“No, Atra, you didn’t. It’s unimportant.” The human paused as he ran things back over in his head.
“Locke betrayed me,” the Ragnosian said, his words dripping with venom, “He placed that Jedi above me, he betrayed us all! I just want to collect these shards, and complete the work I have started.”
Atra nodded, “I have my orders, Ascarend.”
Maelous took a step forward and disengaged his lightsaber, “Then where does that leave us?”
Fragment of Dentavii
Orian System
Atra sighed before unceremoniously dropping into a sitting position, crossing his legs as he let out a long sigh. As he moved, he held his eyes closed before opening just his right eye to fix Maelous with an icy glare.
“Sit.”
One word, that’s all the Quaestor of Shar Dakhan gave in response to Maelous’ question. Yet, that one word held so much weight that it all but crawled up the other Sith’s spine with frigid fingers. The Warrior’s eyes burned behind his lenses as he took a step closer, but he stopped, Atra’s ice filled gaze locking him in his tracks. With a deep breath, Ascarend took a meditative position across from the very man who once cut him down as easily as a fly.
Still, the voice in his head still lay dormant.
The Long, upon watching Maelous become seated, closed his eye and inhaled deeply as his nostrils flared. All emotion bled away from his features as his expression became solid, as if carved from ice, and his eyes opened once more. “Yes, there was a time when I could have ended you,” his tone had attained a level of sullen monotone that perfectly matched his features. “More than likely, you would have welcomed it as a gift.”
Maelous’ head tilted to the side, his eyes searching Atra’s face through the filtered lenses of his mask. “Time has a way of changing,” the Umbaran continued, folding his arms across the expanse of his chest. “I have no desire to fight you as you are now.”
“You find me unworthy?” Maelous bit back the flames that sought to explode from his core.
Atra remained passive still, even as he responded. “Far from it, you are a respectable warrior in your own right.”
“Then why—” the Ragnosian began.
“Because you are incomplete,” Atra interrupted.
Neither said much of anything, the silence between them hovering like a thick fog. Both men breathed in and out steadily, made obvious by the steady rise and fall of their chests. Time, it seemed, held little meaning especially where their reinforcements were concerned. Then again, Atra may have stretched the truth ever so slightly in that regard. He hadn’t bothered relaying his coordinates to the other loyalists, and the Dakhani was sure no one following Vexatus knew of Maelous’ exact whereabouts.
You cannot trust him, the voice whispered through the murky depths of Maelous’ thoughts once more, though not without some difficulty it seemed. The Warrior twisted his head to the side violently, attempting to shake the unbidden voice from his skull.
“A warrior’s death would not give you the peace you deserve, Maelous,” Atra stated, finally breaking the veil of silence.
The Warrior slammed a fist into the dirt, sending the particles scattering into the soft breeze. Behind his mask lay a face twisted by the very emotions churning below the surface, laid bare for all to see if not for the accessory. “I must complete my work, Ventus.”
“Aye, but is it this work you are meant to complete?” the Snow Dragon’s question came quickly in response.
Maelous continued, his words less powerful. “We were betrayed.”
“Were we?” Atra’s response was mercurial in its swiftness, punctuated by the inquisitive raising of a single eyebrow.
Fragment of Dentavii
Orian System
The Warrior shifted in his meditative pose, his grip tightening around his saber hilt. Atra glanced at the movement briefly but brought his eyes back up as Ombus shuttered again. The background sky littered with battling starships. The voice in Maelous’ head began to speak but he ignored, “Are we not the heirs to Sadow’s empire, or do they just throw that around as if it has no meaning?”
Atra shrugged, “What does it matter?”
“It matters a great deal,” said the human’s voice like the calm before a great storm, “A Jedi has no place among those that strive to honor Naga Sadow. At best he is a thorn in our side, at worst an abhorrent mockery of what we are. ”
The Long sighed, “So stop complaining, do something about it.”
“I plan too, it’s why-”
“I don’t mean killing him, Ascarend,” Atra interrupted again, “Show him true power, make him succumb to the Dark Side.”
Maelous looked down and contemplated the idea as the voice in his head laughed and began to praise the Umbaran. The Sith looked up and gave a dark grin behind the mask of his helmet. “I don’t know how I never saw that path,” he said with a hint of amusement. He started to laugh, the voice in his mind and his own finally responding as one.