(This the Co-operative Run-On for the Vendetta Week 3 Fiction Event between Wuntila of Arcona and Kano Tor Pepoi of Naga Sadow, representing the Order of the Obelisk.)
The perennial sky of obsidian loomed ominously over the surface of Antei punctuated only by cloud pockets unleashing a stormy plethora onto the battle-scarred ground below. Droplets of rain illuminated as prisms from the hues of the lightsabers they were falling toward on the ground surface in a display of elegant beauty. It was the serenity that framed the struggle for dominance that raged in cataclysm of beliefs on the battlefield.
“Seven!” Wuntila growled as he dipped under yet another blaster bolt and rose, driving his lightsaber deep into the abdominal casing of the Battle Droid and hewing it violently to the left; his lightsaber emerged in a shower of molten metal that struck one of the adjacent droids on his flank, sending it to the floor in a explosion of sparks.
“Nine!” The Templar bellowed as he continued to hack at the defenses that underpinned the Krath front line, “What are you on?”
“Twelve.” Kano shouted back with a smirk on his face. The two Templars were merely meters from each other heading a small contingent of Obelisk forces fundamentally consisting of clone troopers and Journeymen. The Obelisk attacking force had split up the ranks of its Equites and Elders and placed them in command of small units, all of which utilized a steady phalanx and all spread equally across the expanse of the defensive line. Each unit on its own could have been considered redundant; however, as a whole they acted as teeth, driving into the ranks of the Battle Droids, troopers and Krath and funneling them into pockets for relatively easy dispatch, all the while separating the dense forces into manageable outfits.
On the horizon the Dark Hall, once the Temple of Okemi, overlooked the battle, glaring with menace. The opening at the very top of the temple spewed a mesmerizing pillar of raw kinetic energy as the SLD-26 Planetary Shield Generators veiled the scene of battle in marbled hues of indigo and sapphire.
“Hold formation!” Kano barked as the contingent huddled in closer and continued fighting. Wuntila pulled himself out of the fray and backed up against Kano. The two men, back-to-back at the tip of the phalanx, began working in unison. It was as if they were one. Azure blades arced with supernatural accuracy as Wuntila maintained the offense, while Kano, the master of Soresu, redirected and repelled blaster bolts. The Templars were in their element; the ebb and flow of battle fed their bloodlust and stimulated their taste for victory.
Wuntila threw his body to the left as a blaster bolt, coming straight for his head, shot to the right; Kano redirected his blade and batted it back from behind, letting the force to guide his movements and allowing him to make such an impressive display of lightsaber skills. The Arconan regained his fighting position and pushed forward, carving flesh and metal indifferently. Then, as quickly as he was dispatching his adversaries, he stopped. The wind of battle had changed.
Fleets of fighters adorned with different clan, family and order symbols in a staggering array of insignia masked out the obsidian on the horizon. They were like eagles in the sky honing down on the mouse, the prey, the game. The tirade had begun. Expansive bolts of pure emerald energy cascaded into the ground forces of the Krath. Lifeless bodies were launched in a miniature mushroom cloud of debris and fire, tumbling down onto their comrades as charred husks; however, the Templars, and the rest of the Obelisk knew that they were next.
“TIE Bombers incom… stay low and… for my signa…!” The headset crackled into the Arconan’s ear. It was the unmistakable voice of Sashar di tenebrous Arconae, one of the commanders of the battle and a Dark Adept within the order. As if on cue, the barrage of the explosive strike tore into the strictly regimented phalanxes of the Obelisk. Warriors were atomized and men ripped limb from limb. The devastation of the Sith’s surprising attack during the battle was more than evident. Krath, caught by the blasts of the fighters and on the receiving end of the missile strike, lay strewn across the battlefield. Their numbers had begun to dwindle under the pressure of the Obelisk frontline; now they were decimated. A retreat would have to come soon.
The ex-Consul of Clan Arcona began to rise from the ground. Channeling the force and using his body as a gateway between the lifeblood that pulsated through the ground and the approaching vessels. Cones of exquisite cobalt streamed from his fingertips and struck two of the oncoming fighters; their noses immediately dipped and fell short, exploding into crowds of Krath warriors. He was using the Sith against them. Ronovi Tarantae, another of the commanders of the battle and Consul of Tarentum followed Sashar’s mark along with Tsainetomo Keibatsu Sadow. The three powerful Obelisk warriors unleashed a maelstrom of attacks onto the oncoming Sith forces, all the while, the Obelisk below continued to hack at the diminishing defenses of the Krath.
The final strike of battle was instigated by the three leading figures; using the force to communicate, the three esteemed Obelisk joined their powers as a unit and latched onto five fighters that were limping in for another bombing run. As one, they pulled the small squadron of fighters from the air and slammed them down into what was left of the Krath and creating an explosion four times as powerful as those of the bombs on board. The Krath lines were annihilated and the Sith fled from the skies, leaving the Obelisk to claim their prize – the Dark Hall.
“That was easier than I expected,” Kano said turning to Wuntila, “Now we can take our prize as the victors of the battle.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Wuntila replied, his eyes fixed on a dark cloud on the horizon.
The Krath turned and ran back towards the Obelisk, this time wielding their sorcery and the force. War beasts materialized from the ground and began thundering towards the Obelisk. Round two had begun.