Arkan would sense the energies disappearing and weakening. This was no longer a battle field it was now a grave yard. Taking into the air he would flip into the smoke filled battle field his saber in hand. Leaping forward he would seperate a trooper from his lower torso. Turning he would fling another trooper into a sharp pipe that flew from a ship. He was taking the troopers first, picking them off one by one with an assortment of force abilities or his trusty plasma blade. He could feel the tugging hatred inside of him, the force he was trying to fight was growing inside of him the dark side it burned inside of him an energy never yet felt inside of arkan. It hurt him, but at the same time it felt good. He was trying to fight the urge to destroy and succumb to such power, but he was desperate and the dark side was tempting him.
Post by Asenath Parnell on Jun 25, 2018 12:41:32 GMT -5
The Jedi continued fighting as before, and yet he was different. Something had changed about his presence in the Force, a shift radical and bright enough the Inquisitor noticed it despite the amount of adrenaline running through her veins. Anger fumed in the Jedi’s heart, tearing through its restraints and translating into his fighting style. Aggression ruled every motion, disregarding mercy and compassion, turning the man into a terrifying sight to behold. Last bits of Jedi tenets and ideals screamed for him to stop, but among the dying self-restraint and horror at what he had done, Asenath also felt the intoxicating sensations of satisfaction, even pleasure blossom within him. A smirk crossed her features - she was just one step away from eternally violating the Jedi's connection to the light side.
Always hungry for more power and determined to finish what she had started, the young woman drank from these primal passions, further increasing her grip on the dark side. Raising both of her hands, Asenath focused her skilful hold over telekinesis on restraining the Jedi’s ability to move. Once more, invisible fingers would seize his throat and deny him to breathe freely. That lightsaber of his also found itself targeted by her hand – she would tug at it while choking him, equally intent on disarming the man and finally seizing a real weapon.
“Listen to your hatred! Don’t hold it back! Release it!”
The Force was holy to all Jedi. Poisoning it with the dark side, abusing its power to harm or kill – therein laid the line no Jedi should be willing to cross. And yet that was exactly what Asenath wanted her opponent to do. Worse yet; the vile Inquisitor had chosen the targets for him. The wounded and surrendered in vicinity presented an exceptional opportunity to push him over the edge.
“They are unarmed and pose no threat to you. Use the Force as a weapon! Strike them down or die with this rebellion of yours.”
Adding weight to her threat, the choking grip on his throat would gain in strength.
Arkan would feel the pressure wrapping it self around his neck. He was being distorted by his anger, his feelings were that he has never felt since he was a child when he would grow angry at his dad or at a native ewok. He was taught to hold it in, but now it was exploding years of anger, hatred and any other negative feeling he had for something was pouring out. Now he could not feel the pressure around his neck, out stretching his hand he would be tempted by the dark side. It was time for him to show what he was made of, letting the anger run out of him sparks would come from his fingers. They begin to grow leaping at the wounded trooper at the ground. The electric would reach around the troopers body like blue claws the smell of burnt flesh and plastic filling the air as he would scream.
But it didn't feel right to arkan, pulling his hand away the man was dead. He had gained pleasure a smile grew on his face, it seemed the darkness was pushing back the light. He felt like he was reborn, something new like when he first made his saber. The power was great but he knew nothing of it, he was turning to the dark side.No matter how much he tried to fight, it was a battle just like one he just fought.
Post by Asenath Parnell on Jun 25, 2018 17:13:20 GMT -5
Taken aback by his ability to channel the legendary power of ancient Sith, Asenath staggered back, ready to shield herself from the purest manifestation of the dark side. Shimmering streams of white and blue energy crackled through the air, illuminating the blonde’s black uniform and tearing into the lying stormtrooper. Terrible screams burst into existence, soon followed by a stench of melting plastic and flesh burned to crisp. Impassively observing the horrific act from safe distance, Asenath remained still, her lips curled into a cruel smirk. Used to murder another, the dark side burned the last bridge the Jedi had with the light. Violating the sacred code and tenets alike, he had succumbed to the intoxicating vice of darkness – incredible power beckoned from within its cursed depths.
“And so the strong survive.”
But the Emperor’s Hand did not relinquish her strangling hold on him, keeping his windpipe squeezed and driving the mind into the realm of black, dreamless unconsciousness. She realized the man opposite was no longer a Jedi. Failed Jedi had little value though – even though kissed by the dark side, they required brutal training to mould them into effective, obedient tools of the Empire. Someone with his power had to either die or be controlled. There was no other option and she had given him none, uncompromising as ever. In one victorious sweep, the now extinguished lightsaber finally rested within her grasp. A gasp of disbelief left her mouth. To finally hold one of these fabled weapons meant everything to her.
The first among many to come – she hoped more trophies would join her collection soon. The acquisition of a real lightsaber promised to make the process vastly more efficient.
“Contact the shuttle and request reinforcements,” ordered Asenath as she spun around, addressing any of her men still alive, “The settlement is under our control. We need more manpower to secure the area and search it for enemy intel.”
“And inform the ISB. We have a prisoner. A fallen Jedi with ties to the rebellion.”
Arkan would watch the man as he would spasm his last bits of life draining out of his body. It filled him satisfaction, he could feel the blast bit of the light crawling from him as the darkness would devour it. Turning seeing the woman with his saber now, he would begin to feel the grip tighten squeezing him. Out stretching his hand a few sparks would fly, then he would hit the ground. The lack of oxygen finnally breaking him, but as he fell to his state of unconsciousness he would look to see gem his vulpex limping away with a shard of metal sticking from her leg.
Post by Asenath Parnell on Jun 27, 2018 7:54:16 GMT -5
Disarmed, bound in shackles, the fallen Jedi was sent over to ISB for interrogation and re-education. All remaining prisoners were rounded up and executed, their corpses piled up and set on fire. Even stronger than before, the stench of flaming carcasses filled the air with its sickening odour. Dozens of boots trampled the cinereous ground as stormtroopers burst into individual buildings and cleared them out. More blaster shots resonated through the forest, each sending another rebel into the afterlife. Plans and technology had been salvaged, sealed and loaded onto transports sent to ISB as well. Among them, a map had piqued the Inquisitor’s curiosity, for it contained the very information she needed to successfully complete her original goal. No hesitation or delay hindered the flaxen-haired disciple’s progress as she set off, embarking on a strenuous trek that led her to Darth Vader’s final resting place.
A strangely peaceful aura loomed about the burial mound. Approaching it without sparing the deceased Sith lord a single thought or even pausing in silent reverence, her gloved hands eagerly dug into the grave, digging through dirt and shards of rock. Once her greedy fingers finally caught the edge of unyielding metal and pulled at it, the helmet unceremoniously separated from the remains, unearthed in all its dark glory. Dust and charred fragments of bone spilled out. Those mattered not – the most characteristic symbol of Darth Vader was in the Empire’s hands.