Combat Master’s Note: Because you are matches against a member of your Clan, this battle takes on a unique format. You will be encountering Igraxcis with an ally. Treat Igraxcis as you would any other ACC opponent. In addition, note that this Sith apparition can hurt you, and when materialized, causes damage as any physical being would, but also responds to damage the same way. You WILL be judged using the ACC rubric, so the person posting the best story will move on to subsequent rounds. If you wish to fight your Clanmate as well, you may, but this is not in any way a requirement.

Begeren. Once a prosperous Sith world, it has been the site of numerous battles throughout the millennia. Grand halls and monuments were torn down and re-purposed by looting Republic forces thousands of years ago, before they were driven from the planet. Isolated settlements still dot the planet's surface, but the inhospitable, craggy, and desert-like terrain, along with the beasts common to many desert and Sith worlds, have kept most humanoids from colonizing. Occasional skirmishes have left debris scattered throughout the desert, and battles were fought here as recently as the Galactic Civil War.

The One Sith’s hold on Begeren is all but broken, though a few small pockets of resistance remain. The Clans and Houses of the Brotherhood now swarm the planet to defeat them, but attention has returned to plunder. Roaming bands of Jedi, adherents to light and dark alike, claim—or destroy—priceless artifacts at every turn. One of the few remaining untouched areas on the entire planet is the Valley of Monuments, so named for its glorious architecture. The valley is a patchwork collection of sand dunes and massive canyons, inhospitable even in the best of times. Despite this, the One Sith maintain control over the area. Exactly how—or why—this place has not yet been claimed by the Brotherhood, you do not know, and nor do your superiors, but you know it is ripe for the picking. Perhaps one reason is that access is limited—the One Sith maintain control over the valley’s entrances, save for a small handful of paths that tread directly through canyons used long ago as ancient burial grounds. Intelligence suggests these entrances are virtually undefended. Your plan, along with your compatriot, is to find your way into the Valley of Monuments through one such canyon, and it is there you now find yourselves.

Somehow, despite the windswept sand dunes mere meters away, the canyon before you remains virtually free of sand. Macabre hills fill this canyon, thousands of exposed skeletons laying atop one another, the sand dunes of most of the planet replaced by dunes of stark white bones. The dark side hangs thick in the air over this massive valley, flanked by four incredibly large crystals placed at each cardinal direction. This is one of a handful of ancient mass graves, the final resting place of literally thousands of slaves forced to give their lives millennia ago to create the massive monuments of Begeren. Far in the distance, a massive Sith monument rises before an impressive ancient palace, but your attention remains here, now, where the bones shift beneath your every step, crunching noisily. Ancient clubs, whips, and other weapons occasionally break through the bony landscape, testament to the vicious past of this place. To those that can even sense the most rudimentary of emotions through the Force, an even more sinister feeling permeates the air here: not only death, but suffering, anger, and hate.

The sun slowly creeps towards the mountains far beyond this impressive valley, casting long rays of light that reflect off many of the white bones littering the valley. The heat here is oppressive, but the sun will depart soon, leaving both of you in darkness. You notice that the large crystal to the north, situated in the shadow of a large canyon wall, begins to shimmer a faint blue, causing the bones beneath it to take on a ghostly glow. Your step hastens as you move quickly through the canyon, hoping to escape this place before sunset takes it, and reach areas with more valuable items to claim or destroy. But before you can make much progress, you begin to hear the telltale signs of another being—the sound of footsteps crunching bones—and they are coming from atop one of the hills of bones within the canyon. As you gaze up, you and your ally notice a ghostly figure glaring down at you from atop a hill, a massive Sith sword swung over his back.

The trudge through the valley had been a long one for Sight as the Aedile of his House constantly chattered about this and that. The Priest sighed as the Miraluka began to recite another story that he could vaguely remember hearing several times already. Closing his crimson eyes, the albino tuned out Atyiru’s voice as a few seconds of peace washed over him. He was snapped back to full attention as a sudden feeling of dread washed over him.

“Somethings wrong,” the Miraluka said softly, her hand resting upon the Human’s shoulder. The crunch of another's footsteps caused both Arconans to look towards the source. Sight swallowed hard as his eyes took in a massive man atop a nearby hill.

“Thats not good,” the albino whispered as he took his lightsaber into hand. The yellow blade sprang to life with a familiar and comforting snap-hiss.

“Be careful,” was all the Miraluka said as her own blue saber sprang to life. The beast upon the hill looked like he was laughing as his large stride carried him towards the two Krath. A massive arm reached behind the mans back, unsheathing a rather large Sith sword. As the man grew closer to the Arconans, a blue haze around him became clearer to the albino.

“You take low, I will take high,” the albino spoke as he rushed forward towards the wall of muscle beneath armor before them. Atyiru’s brow furrowed as she followed behind the Human. The massive Force-ghost grinned as the two approached, his humongous sword moving horizontally to cleave Sight in half. The Human’s legs filled with oxygen enriched blood as he focused, channeling the Force through his body. The fingers on his left hand closed quickly then opened. Bones floated off the ground in response and then shot towards the Force-ghost before them.

Igraxcis’ sword changed direction as he brought it up, the flat of the blade blocking most of the flying bones. Sight leapt, his yellow blade connecting with the Sith sword, his eyes widening as the lightsaber failed to cut the metal. Atyiru slid feet first between the Force-ghost’s legs, coming up behind the massive man as his fist connected with Sight’s face. The Dark Side Adept pivoted and then swung the Sith sword on a path to take off the Miraluka’s head. Atyiru’s blue lightsaber deflecting the weapon, as she leapt backwards.

Sight raised a hand towards the Force-ghost as the other held his aching face. A smile curled his lips as a spark of Force guided electricity arched into the beast from his fingertips.

The spark struck, and Igraxcis started to convulse in pain. A blood curdling shriek issued from his lips as the electricity entered his back. Sight’s smile melted into a frown as the Force-ghost vanished, his Aedile’s blue blade slashing diagonally through the space the beast once occupied.

“I suppose we’ve found out why this canyon isn’t guarded.” The albino spoke slowly as he rubbed his face where Igraxcis had hit him.

“We should move quickly, let’s go Sight.” The Miraluka said as her head turned giving the impression that she was scanning the area.

The bones were screaming.

Phantasms writhed inside her mind. Blood and shadow poured from mangled bodies with twisted mouths and weeping eyes. They wailed in pain until their voices cracked to whispers, reedy and hateful.

Atyiru frowned, concentrating on pinpointing the spirit with the enormous sword that had attacked them. The Dark Side thrummed, festering and bloated on all the malice. She breathed to remind herself that she was not suffocating on it.

“Actually, hold on,” the Miraluka murmured to her Human charge. She gripped his shoulder, half-consciously soothing his bruised jaw while she held on to him.

Sight shrugged her hand off, already striding down the precarious pile of jumbled skeletons. “Why? If he comes back, we’ll defeat him again.”

“Force-ghosts are clingy. They like to hover—” she paused, realizing what she had said, then snickered slightly. “They’re persistent. And this one…” Her brief mirth dissipated as she shivered. “This one is cruel, and this place is wrong.”

“Then we kill him again and get out of here,” the Priest maintained without bluster. She tilted her head, sighing slightly and stepping carefully after him.

“Fine, but let me take point. And be careful where you ste—aaah!” Shouting, the Miraluka tumbled down the pile, bones crunching under her. Sight braced himself and leapt after her, bounding lithely down to the ground.

Pain blossomed across her whole body and she knew she would be covered in bruises later. Groaning, Atyiru pushed herself up but collapsed again as agony spiked through her leg.

“Son of a frakking rancor,” she hissed, clamping her hands around her thigh. The unmistakable damp of blood wetted her robes.

“You’ve got a...something...lodged in there. Uh...what is that?”

“A rib,” the medic muttered grimly, feeling at the protrusion. “Thankfully it missed the artery. I’m going to need a minute before I can walk.”

“Do you want some help?” Sight offered, earning a strained smile.

“I wouldn’t reject it,” Atyiru began, but stiffened as awareness exploded through her mind.

There was no time, no warning, only action. Before one heartbeat crashed into the next, the Aedile lunged doggedly forward, dragging the Human down and to the side by his robes.

A behemoth sword crashed into the ground bare inches from their tangled bodies, splitting rock with an unholy shriek. It lifted again in a plume of pulverized earth and bone to rest on the shoulder of the hulking man looming over them.

“I am Igraxcis,” he boomed, as if that itself were explanation enough.

Atyiru pushed herself to her knees, elbowing Sight behind her, and spread her bloody hands amiably. She offered a bright grin that was all clenched teeth, the Force nulling her pain.

“Iggy…can I call you Iggy? How about we put the sword away and just…chat? I’m sure you have some thrilling stories: feats, conquests, your…ah…current standard of living—”

A merciless curve of translucent lips answered her as the Sith raised his free hand. The Force surged and electricity crackled along his arm, searing the air.

“The chatty ones always scream the best,” he said. A fulmination of terrible lightning was born in his grasp, leaping forth—

—and sizzling into nothingness. Igraxcis looked at his hand, stupefied. To the side, Sight grinned victoriously.

Atyiru gaped in shock for half a breath before she snarled, curled her own fingers into talons, and drew on the immense well of the Force around them. A bolt of electricity arced from her fingers, clawing across the short distance between them and biting into the spirit’s form. He vanished again with a horrid howl that made her shiver.

Collapsing back, the woman tilted her head towards her companion. “You saved us, my friend. Well done,” she praised, relief heavy in her tone.

“But he’ll be back, won’t he?” the Human surmised, standing and brushing off his robes. “I’m going to bring the fight to him. You catch up and flank him if you can.”

“Sight, no—the Force take you, wait!” Atyiru cried in frustration as he took up his saber and crept off into the sepulchral hills. “Does everyone have to run off and go be the hero every karking time? Ashla and Bogan above…”

Sighing, the Archpriestess settled in to heal herself before going after him, wrapping her fingers around the bone that impaled her. Just as she embraced the Force, she heard the crunch of footsteps.

Atyiru’s head turned hopefully. “Sight? You’re ba…” she trailed off, horror creeping up her spine.

The crags of the graveyard were suddenly gone, replaced by a flat expanse and a sea of reeking, hot liquid that splattered towards her. The bone hills rose from the sanguine sea like islands, cruel and lifeless mockeries of some safe harbor. The stench of blood was so strong, her head spun.

From the bloody haze, a cacophony of voices rose in song, ghoulish forms materializing and shuffling forward. The congregation of figures stretched to the horizon. At their head, a woman walked, cutting through the morass as her robe swirled around her.

Her pale skin was ribbed and scrawled with dark, malignant lines, corrupted veins rising to the surface of her flesh. She raised a corrugated hand, flayed fingers unfurling to release a bundled object that fell to her feet.

Atyiru tried to sense her, any of them, but they were empty, dead, drowned in the blood and the graves.

Look, and then go, a girl’s voice sibilated in her mind. Unsure, Atyiru crawled forward, dragging her lame leg behind her. Her hands stretched out, fingers wrapping around ropey coils.

Realization dawned on her, a sick familiarity that made every scar on her back burn: it was a slaver’s whip, heavy and wicked.

She gagged, barely resisting the urge to fling the evil thing away from her. When her stomach ceased its heaving, she turned back to the ghost.

“Who are you?” the Miraluka gasped.

We are the freed, the voice said.

And then they, and their illusion, were gone.

Bones crunched underfoot as Sight slowly made his way to the top of a hill composed of more remains than soil. The Human’s breath came labored as he reached the top, his crimson eyes spotting a large crystal a short way off. The blue glow of the crystal was a perfect match to the glow he had seen around Igraxcis. Glancing back from where he had come the albino raised one white eyebrow as he witnessed Atyiru seeming to be conversing with herself.

“Crazy kriffing Miraluka,” the Priest muttered to himself as he began to move towards the crystal. His breathing was slowly beginning to return to normal as the strain from suppressing Force lightning began to wear off. I’m going to have to be careful; I can only use that maybe one more time, the albino thought to himself as he grew near to the crystal.

Sight was inspecting the area around the monument when a shiver sped down his spine. Looking back at the hill he had come from, the albino saw Atyiru limping towards him, the rib bone still in her leg but cut short as to not hinder walking as much. Though it was the massive glowing blue shape behind the woman that would have made the color drain from Sight’s face; if the albino had any.

“I hope this gets his attention,” the Human spoke as he slammed the business end of his lightsaber against the crystal and ignited it. The crystal glowed brightly for a moment before turning yellow as the blade refracted from within. A scream of rage came from Igraxcis as he vanished from behind the Miraluka and appeared before the albino.

“You die first, Human,” the Force-ghost yelled as he swung the massive sword at the Priest. Deactivating the lightsaber as he jumped free from the death the beast promised, a grin crossed Sight’s lips once more as a shrill fast-paced beeping sounded from beside Igraxcis. The Dark Side Adept looked at the ground, the puzzled look on his face became obscured as the thermal detonator exploded. Bone and dust shot outwards in every direction, both cutting and clinging to the albino’s flesh.

From the bottom of the hill, Atyiru’s smile grew thin as the dust from the explosion failed to obscure her view of her charge. The Force-ghost lay on the ground having been thrown backwards, his look of confusion changing to one of rage as he recovered from being so close to the detonation. The Miraluka started to limp faster toward the two males as the dimmed crystal broke in half and fell; Sight would need her help and she knew it.

Sight could feel the smaller cuts across his body healing over on their own. However the massive femur bone sticking out of his left shoulder seemed out of place. Pain engulfed the Priest as he looked at the bone. Whimpering as he took hold of the femur, the albino closed his eyes and yanked it from his body. Blood flowed out from between his fingers as he applied pressure to the wound. His vision began to blur as he focused on the Force, the sound of a lightsaber igniting in the distance all but lost to him.

Atyiru’s lightsaber clashed once again with the Sith blade of the Force-ghost. The beast’s anger was so intense that the Miraluka could almost taste it upon the air. She could also feel the pain that emanated from Sight fading at a steady pace, a fact that gave her relief. Igraxcis seemed to grow more powerful as his anger increased, his sword moving faster with each strike. As the woman’s lightsaber was knocked out of her hand the dust cloud behind the Force-ghost parted. Both of the combatants moved out of the way as the bottom half of the crystal crashed to the ground between them. Atyiru’s smile grew as saw Sight standing in the dissipating dust cloud.

A white and red object flew from where Sight stood with his right arm outstretched. The Force-ghost dodged the massive femur bone easily, however his feet left the ground as an invisible force struck him in the chest. Taking the advantage Atyiru reached forward, a spark of Force guided electricity shooting from her fingertips and into Igraxcis. A second spark flew from Sight and into the beast, adding to the agony he was suddenly under. Igraxcis’ form flickered as he unsuccessfully attempted to vanish.

Sight walked quickly towards the writhing Force-ghost. The Miraluka having retrieved her lightsaber by means of the Force, jumped over the crystal. Landing next to the beast, she reached down grabbing hold of his slaver’s whip. A wave of Force energy emanated from Igraxcis, throwing Atyiru backwards into the crystal. The Dark Side Adept rose to stand over the Miraluka, his Sith sword raised high to deliver the finishing strike. A yellow lightsaber blade pierced through his body the tip coming out of his lower rib cage.

As the Force-ghost howled in pain Atyiru rose to her feet and wrapped the slaver’s whip around Igraxcis’ neck. Every part of the Miraluka screamed out in protest at touching the slaver’s tool as she pulled the whip tight. Sight flipped his saber upwards along the gash in the Force-ghost’s Sith armor. The blue glow faded around Igraxcis as the Arconans forced him to experience his death a second time. His body fell to the ground with a loud thud as it broke apart into a pile of ashes.

“Well that was weird,” Sight spoke slowly as he secured his lightsaber to his belt.

“Are you okay?” The Miraluka asked as her head tilted up and down as if she was inspecting the Human.

“I’ve had worse,” he replied as he started to feel uncomfortable under his Aedile’s gaze.

“Well let’s patch ourselves up, we still have a mission to complete,” Atyiru spoke as her ever present smile seemed to grow.

Pallid mist slithered over the ground and around Sight’s ankles as he prowled through the graveyard like one of its specters. He made no sound, cast no shadow, enshrouded in the Force’s infinite cloak. The Priest crept around another bone pile, saber held loose and unlit in his grasp.

Ahead of him, his enemy slumped against one of the macabre hills, ethereal form revealing the collection of broken ribcages and limbs that was his seat. He clutched his blade in one hand, the other pressed to the blackened spiderweb of char that covered his chest.

Yes! was the Arconan’s single thought, a feral grin crossing his features as he leapt forward in a silent sprint, lightsaber unfurling into a tongue of victorious yellow flame.

Igraxcis’s head snapped up too late. Sight raised his blade in both hands and brought it down in a damning arc, plasma shining through the spirit’s near-corporeal neck. The former Sith warrior made no sound this time as he fell back and vanished.

“Wonder if third time pays for all,” the Human muttered, shrugging to himself as he turned around--

Thick fingers closed around his throat, holding back his heartbeat, and then his skull was cracking against the too-cold ground. There was a blossom of pain, hot and sharp and spreading through the roots of his teeth.

Then there was whiteness. Blackness. Noise.

Nothing.

-=*=-

Atyiru ran.

Her leg throbbed in agony, too freshly healed. Her ears rang with screams and haunts. Her stomach roiled. Her back burned with memory’s fire while the sound of a whipcrack echoed in her mind.

And ahead of her, the light that was Sight’s consciousness flickered as Igraxcis’s engulfed it.

She clutched the ancient scourge in her hand and ran faster, pleading with the Force to grant her speed.

The Miraluka burst around a bend in the path, foot catching on a femur and sending a spray of dislodged bones clattering across the ground. A skull skipped and skidded, stopping with a hollow thunk as it met the limp arm of her pale companion.

“Get away from him!” Atyiru snarled at the phantom standing over Sight’s body, straining her senses desperately. A tiny flame of relief flickered in her chest as she found signs of life in the other Equite.

“Silence, slave,” Igraxcis commented offhandedly, not even turning to face her. He took up his enormous sword and set its tip against Sight’s abdomen, twisting it back and forth leisurely, applying just the slightest pressure.

He addressed his victim, “Stupid thing, you are,” he nearly crooned to the unconscious Krath. “What else should I make you see? How many times should I kill you?” The blade bit a bit deeper and the smell of blood touched the air. Sight yelped quietly in pain, stirring.

Something inside her snapped.

It ignited like a spark thrown in dry tinder, a small ember roaring up into a righteous inferno, burning its way from her curled fingers, up her arm and to her chest and all through her body. The ghost woman’s voice seared in her mind again.

“Igraxcis!” Atyiru cried, the indignation of a thousand souls weighing on her words. She held the whip aloft. “We are the free...and you will not harm us anymore!”

The Sith’s body recoiled and he whirled, his eyes fixating on the whip she held. They dropped slowly to the same weapon at his own belt, and, for a moment, still horror reigned.

Then, his mouth unhinged around a wide, inhuman scream and the dark side seemed to collapse...

The Force exploded from Igraxcis like a thunderclap, lifting Sight’s body and tossing it away like a ragdoll. The wave slammed into Atyiru next, and the world spun off its axis as gravity died and the sky became the ground over and over again.

She crashed into the dirt, skeletons raining down around her in pieces, a high-pitch whine pervading her ears. Her nails scrambled at dust as she tried to push herself up, her head swimming. A fist knotted cruelly in her hair, wrenching her from the earth. She thought she screamed, but the sound was dim.

The Sith slavemaster shook her, tightening his grip until blood trickled down around her face and ears. The fingers of his other hand ran gently down her jaw, almost a caress, and circled around her throat before falling away.

I’m going to make you hurt, the gesture seemed to promise. Atyiru struggled, sobbing, as a slow, poisonous terror began to creep through her veins. She felt more than heard the spirit’s bloodthirsty laughter vibrating in her bones.

No, the Aedile thought desperately, fighting through the wicked fear corrupting her. No! My people… She kicked out, but hit nothing. NO!

There was a faint cry. The hands holding her fell away. The spell broke and clarity and sound and pain all came rushing back as she hit the ground.

Igraxcis still stood over her, but he flailed and gasped in panic, grasping at his neck. Sight clung desperately to his back, the whip Atyiru had dropped wrapped tight around his hands and the Sith’s phantom throat.

The warrior’s legs buckled and he toppled, carrying both men into the grave dirt. Igraxcis writhed as if atop a pyre, breath coming faster and shallower. “No…” he choked. “Not again…”

“Die already,” Sight growled, yanking on his improvised garrote with a Force-fueled heave. A heartbeat passed...and Igraxcis went still, then vanished.

“...again,” Atyiru mumbled after a long moment while her companion collapsed onto his backside, panting heavily.

“What?”

“He’s dying again, not so much already,” the Miraluka explained, clutching at her head and gathering the Force to heal it. “Just saying.”

There was a pause, and then Sight chuckled, quietly at first, then louder. Atyiru found herself grinning.

“Okay, Vanquisher of the Already-Dead. Let me look you over and then we can go. Got one frak of a story to bring back…”