Channelknight Fadran

coulda sworn I posted today... guess I should prolly say a few words with these... uhhh Day 1 is an eldritch god who may or may not show up in Iconar Collective. (I'm not saying that ironically, I actually have no clue if they'll be included) Day 2 is a spider witch.I spent two hours on it and I think it's epic And today's is kinda meh

I would just like to point out that the link to this on mobile reads “I don’t think Brandon is good a writing…” and I was quite curious to see what was coming up next

"I kind of doubt that, but you're welcome to try."

Nayla was just behind him, running from the side to flank the Assassin. Her blue flashed with his green, synchronized to a pendulum of attacks. Her headache and nausea from the Trueform held to a dull thud, and her attacks were slower because of it - but she'd acclimated to the pain over these past two days, and held a steady barrage of attacks regardless. As Krarik's blade swept about, Feisyyd took the moment to dash back into the battle. Three blades against one, with Krarik trapped in the center: he spun his lightsaber in a series of wide arcs, not a single moment of movement wasted as he masterfully deflected every strike. In the instants between swipes his eyes could barely be seen, screwed from beneath as his ever-present grin grew into a laugh of pure, malicious glee. Yes, they could sense their enemy: Darth Krarik was ecastatic.

Who was Shovel Man? Surely, a man with no shovel could not be Shovel Man. And still, it Gazed on.

But the Gaze was out of reach; as all things seen, but unknown, tend to be.

The first mistake Aria had made was in assuming he would be there. A black mist hung over the stone where Darth Krarik had once sat, obscuring his Presence into a cold, empty field of improbability. He was here, yes - she could feel him, and so could her students by the looks of things. Unlike the time he had approached the Jedi Temple with such ease, they were all primed and focused on his Presence specifically; but even then, all she could really feel was a vague sense of here-ness. And Master Feisyyd maintained her composure all the while, but... Well... I guess I can't say I'm too surprised. Krarik's voice came from all around them, piercing and cold. But I suppose I'm a tad disappointed. You're unfamiliar with this Technique, is it? Indeed, in our scouring of your Archives back on Coruscant... well, the Go'tor-rran - Step of Shadow and Mist - was rather undocumented. Only in legends now. Indeed, she truly knew next to nothing about this strange power; but she hadn't taught her students to flee from an enemy they knew nothing about. Battle prowess came from the ability to make calculated risks and educated guesses, not in a memorized set of facts. Extrapolation of basic principles... that would be their primary (and pretty much only) method to win this fight. "I suspect his mist powers," Feisyyd had said to them the day before, "are a combination of several Principles; and strange ones at that. It isn't ordinary Deception, like with illusion and thought redirection; and it isn't the ability to simply vanish either. And I don't think it's the sort of power that can be learned the same way many others can... it's uncertain, but there are rumors that the Sith Assassins are born and raised into Blood Clans: families of powerful Force-users, bred for killing. If they do exist, then they're among the most powerful forces in all the galaxy, and also the most secretive... and his Ability would be a secret generational Technique, reworked and refined over centuries of Assassins." There really wasn't much to go off of with just that, but she would have to make do for the time being. Master Feisyyd ignited her own green lightsaber, falling into Form Four at nearly the same time she blinked into a blinding dash; trusting her students wouldn't be far behind. These first few seconds would be crucial to determine how his Ability worked - and, of course, what weaknesses they might be able to exploit in it. To do so, they'd need to press him into reacting even just slightly and extrapolating from there... all without direct communication, letting their guards down, or lightening up on the assault for even an instant. Unfortunately, eliciting a response was far easier said than done. If his Step of Shadow and Mist worked anything like how she guessed, then it would take far more than just the application of basic Principles to bring him out. Starting a battle by a basic exchange was really more of her style: both sides holding out their true strength to conserve their energy, keeping each card close to their chest until forced to bring it out. If he was leading the combat with what had easily been his ace during their last encounter... well, it didn't bode well. It would take a risk to draw him out, and so Feisyyd made one. All the air rushed out of her lungs in a harsh pant, forcing her mind into an instant alert. Focus rushed through her limbs in the form of the strange, uncomfortable weakness that came from holding one's breath - effectively, she'd manually heightened her senses and self-control in the span of an instant. Combined with Force Perception and her own regular senses (put through dozens of layers of intricate filters and recognizers that she'd trained into her mind over decades), Feisyyd entered a heightened state of Truesight: Mar'Jib - ku - Noiyai, the Instance of Clarity. Thirteen years of training this form meant it could hold for approximately three seconds, before the exertion would force her to take a breath and drop the state. Half of the first second was spent aligning all the variables and senses into a clear, cohesive Perception; not long after the count of one, her arms and legs had tensed or loosened in all the right places to prepare for her attack. After that, she slashed about in a calculated fury, striking every instance of mist and shadow that bore so much the residual stench of his Presence. No segment was spared. To her students, it would appear as only a flash of green - and after that faded, a crash of wind to gust the mist about in a wild cyclone. The blink of an eye would have missed a sizeable portion of it. And, perhaps most concerningly, it worked. As Feisyyd drew in a breath, the mist swished between her and the students; and there appeared Darth Krarik, red blade ignited, dropped into a deep crouch. There was only barely enough time to catch the glint of the lightsaber in his eyes before the Assassin darted for them all, surrounded only with an aura of pure severity. @Ravenclawjedi42 @Justice_Magician @Scars of Hathsin @Ancient Elantrian @ΨιτιsτηεΒέsτ

Indeed... but then again, it hadn't moved once this whole time.

The shovel is dissolved. Oh, the horror.

"Unclear." The Gaze carried on.

"Unclear." The Gaze carried on.

“Oh. That’s a demon.”

gwehehehehehehehe

An Ancient Beast emerged from the void. Or, rather, pulled the minds of everyone into the void. They were amidst an eternal sea of wispy darkness, and a single eye like the blazing sun stared down at them.

Krarik awaited them. Today, he hoped, would be one to remember.

Nayla looked... somehow less nervous. Than usual, anyway. "Remember the plan," Feisyyd said to them all. "He'll sense us coming, and predict our every move - so we have no other choice than to go all-out. I'll lead the attack from the front to engage him in full Trueform combat, and with a bit of luck the lot of you will be able to overwhelm him."