Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or Dragon Age
We're back to Daylen now, with the introduction of more alternative canon characters (including a new approach to the Knights of Ren below) and a new way to use magic.
Dragon Wars: The Force of Others
Episode 26: Rage awakened
They stood upon the hilltop, shrouded by the darkness. Each one a practitioner of the dark side of the force, yet not Sith, and not truly Dark Jedi either. Near the front of the group stood an Iktotchi woman, her face partly covered by the black hood attached to her shirt. A kama (a type of belt-cape) ran down her legs, white sleeves her lower arms and her boots were a simple leather. Behind her were the men her visions had led her to, the men whom held the future of the galaxy in their hands. She knew them as the Abandoned, the Armoury, the Rogue, the Monk, the Heavy and the Sniper. They were the disciplines of the wanderer, the knights of darkness, the Knights of Ren. He was crouched on the rock, arms resting on his knees, face covered by the black and silver mask he wore. A cloak rested on his shoulders, offering no cover for his bare chest, a landscape of scars and burns. One of his hands was covered by a glove, and a black light sabre hung off of his belt. He looked over his shoulder towards her and nodded.
Closing her eyes, she lost herself to the power that allowed her to rise from a simple village girl, to a prophetess of Saleucami. Through the force she could see the potential fortunes or misfortunes of individuals. In focusing on the dark, she could see the potential futures, the legends and infinities, what could have been. Her eyes went white as she looked and saw two diverging paths. A young man lost to the darkness, a being of pure darkness, the blood of his enemies around him. No greater than an animal, a being lost to rage and sorrow, screaming in pain and clutching his head as fire raged around him and lightning above him. Second, a man in black armour, the helmet seemingly like it came from a primitive world, red eyes glowing through the slit on the visor, a red sabre with a crossguard on it glowing in his hand. Sith ships moved at his command, and he overlooked a grand army of troopers in black.
"Two paths available to him," she whispered.
"Only two? We'll have to wait and see, and his name?" her master asked.
"The embodiment of darkness, Darth Riser, Daylen Amell," she said before collapsing.
Her master huffed and looked towards the grand arena.
"Let's see how this plays out," he said.
Kalla the Hutt's palace
Daylen stood in front of the tusked Rancor, growling as much as the beast did. The red haze rose from his body, and his eyes burned with the power of the dark side. Black rings formed around his eyes as he took a step forward, his severed arm hanging off of his elbow. Above them, the people looked on in fear, Torvan in fascination and Talon with interest. Both saw an opportunity in Daylen, one to profit from a fighter, and one to gain an acolyte in the dark side. Talon could feel raw darkness emanating from Daylen, what her master no doubt sensed in him. The Rancor stampeded forward, but stopped when Daylen raised his hand.
"Through the force, you can suggest things to the weak minded, when it comes to non-sapient creatures, you can take complete control," Kaius said behind Daylen.
The Rancor yelled, gripping its head and thrashing around.
"Of course, such a process is painful when used invasively through the dark side, yet, it makes a good distraction," Kaius smirked.
Daylen raised his elbow, spraying a stream of blood onto the Rancor's face. He snarled, having missed his target, burning through only the Rancor's tusk. As the tusk fell, Daylen ran forward. He threw the bone that had taken his arm, striking the Rancor's chest and making him stumble back. Grabbing the tusk, Daylen jumped off of the Rancor's knee and plunged the tusk through the creature's jaw. It let out a horrific and rage filled roar, trying to strike Daylen in midair. But Daylen twisted, rolling over the Rancor's claw.
"The force can be used to amplify your body, allowing you to perform physical feats many others can't...what, you didn't think that all those force users were just that naturally flexible and fast did you?"
Kaius's voice in his ear angered Daylen further, driving him deeper. Black mist rose from his arms as he ran up the Rancor's arm, his blood burning a line up the creature's limp. He jumped off of the Rancor's back and, as he span in midair, the blood became solid, forming a barbed chain. It sliced the Rancor's back and calf, making it collapse. Daylen landed on the ground, rolling until he hit the wall.
"Not the smoothest of landings there," Daveth said.
"Daylen, don't do this, through blood magic you already took yourself dangerously close to possession when you fought Kaius, now you're drawing on the dark side of the force, it could destroy you," Greagoir explained.
The ghosts faded as Daylen got up off of the floor. Waving his elbow around, a line of blood appeared in front of him. The line began to bubble, the blood expanding as it formed a complex shape. It began to form a smooth shaft attached to a blade, as soon as Daylen grabbed the spear with his cybernetic hand, spikes began appearing across the shaft.
"What is this, by the force," Torvan muttered, awestruck by the display of power.
Then he grinned, he would never let Daylen go. If he could harness such power, he would have more than a champion of the arena. Daylen roared as he took a running start and threw the spear. It created a sonic boom, slamming into the Rancor's eye and knocking it against the wall. Rocks came down from the ceiling, some of the people above even stumbled as the ground shook. Oola sheltered her body, some of the smaller stones striking her. She looked up, and saw the rocks floating above her. Then she looked to Daylen, seeing his hand extended.
"Still trying to be the hero I see," Kaius shook his head.
"Always, I knew it Daylen," Jowan said.
Daylen looked at his elbow, at the blood floating in and out of it. He looked at his hand, a robotic hand using the force to hold back rubble, to save a life he had endangered.
"No, a life you have saved Daylen," Petra said.
'What am I doing?' Daylen wondered, the yellow fading from his eyes.
The darkness and the blood magic faded too, and Daylen lowered his head in shame.
"You STUPID FOOL!" Kaius yelled.
Suddenly, the Rancor lunged forward, an object tackled Daylen at the last moment. He widened his eyes, Oola, having summoned her courage she pushed him out of the way. But the Rancor's jaws snapped over her left foot, the needle like teeth piercing her shin. She screamed as the Rancor dangled her off of the ground, swiping its claws at Daylen. He jumped back, barely dodging the claws.
'No, no, don't let her die,' he told himself. 'Don't let anyone else die!'
Their faces flashed before his eyes, all those he had lost, those whom he had led into their deaths. Even those he had killed himself. He yelled, and in a flash of red light, he was on the Rancor's head. Roaring like an animal, Daylen punched the Rancor's eye, piercing through it. He followed through on the punch, digging it deeper and deeper. The blinded creature screamed, dropping its potential food and stumbling back. Daylen kept on digging until the Rancor thrashed around, trying to throw him off. The Rancor slammed the side of its head against the rocks, nearly hitting Daylen. Seeing an opportunity, Daylen twisted his arm inside the creature's head. It faced the wall and ran towards it. Daylen ripped his arm out of the Rancor's brain at the last moment, jumping as the Rancor ran head first into the wall. There was a sickening crunch before the Rancor fell back, dead.
'Move, come on Daylen, move,' he crawled across the floor towards Oola.
He had to do what he could to heal her, even if it did involve blood magic. If he waited too long, then she could lose her...
The butt of a rifle slammed into the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. Torvan looked down at Kalla's guards, and then at Kalla herself. He would not have his property disposed of. Rancors were rare, but he could afford the investment of paying for it to save 13's life. Maximus stood in the corner, a small smirk on his face, again he had not been wrong.
Daylen opened his eyes, everything seemed hazy, and when it came into focus he looked upon the walls of his quarters at the circle tower. He could feel the uncomfortable and itchy fabric of his robes. Rising, he looked to his side and saw a red haired elf girl in the female equivalent of the circle robes. She smiled at him and he lowered his head.
"This is a dream," he said.
"Of course," a voice said behind him.
He turned on the bed and saw a brown haired man in brown and red circle robes.
"That doesn't mean it can't be a good dream," he said.
Daylen though kept his head down. The man sighed and waved the elf girl aside, she scowled, taking on the form of a Desire demon before disappearing.
"I'm still connected to the Fade?" Daylen asked, raising his head.
"Of course, you wouldn't have been able to use your magic otherwise, mages themselves are conduits to the fade," Mouse said.
He was the demon of pride that Daylen encountered during his Harrowing. The test of whether he would give into temptation, he deduced Mouse's identity. But the demon was a rarity, a Pride demon whom took on the weak form of a mouse. Daylen looked at his hands, real in this place.
"But I can't use magic like I did before," he said.
"Maybe not, I suppose you could always use blood magic, but then again, such a thing can be foolish to rely on. If you use too much blood, you'll of course pass out, forcing you to rely on the dark side to counteract this, still, if you use too much blood you will die, dark side or not. That is if you're willing to compromise, to cross into the acts of magic some would deem, unnatural," Mouse explained.
Daylen stood and looked up at the ceiling.
"I will escape, I will free the other slaves, and I will return to Thedas, and fight the Sith," he said, voice filled with determination.
"That's the spirit," Mouse grinned, clapping his hands in applause. "I look forward to seeing whether you'll lose yourself Daylen," he said.
He awoke and looked up at his cell ceiling, as he had expected he had been given a new replacement arm and hand. Also as he expected, Torvan and Maximus were standing outside his cell door.
"Ah, our latest investment is awake," Torvan smirked.
Daylen slid to his knees and looked up at the two men. The calm that was in his eyes shocked both men. Torvan was taken aback, and Maximus saw a man whom had regained his bearings. This was a different man than the one they had being dealing with.
"This afternoon, your next battle will be this afternoon, we'll see if you die this time," Torvan said, huffing.
Maximus stepped away from the wall as Torvan walked away.
"I saw a warrior once with an expression like yours, man had lost everything, then he got back up after weeping, and with great clarity proceeded to take his revenge on those whom had wronged him," Maximus explained.
Daylen remained silent, crossing his fingers together and leaning forward. Seeing that there would be no conversation with the slave, Maximus turned and began walking away.
"I remember how you talked, about your people, about the war you fought. This isn't honourable either, an honourable fight is still out there," Daylen explained.
Maximus took a moment to listen to what Daylen said. He shook his head, denying the possibilities in Daylen's words before he walked away. Again Daylen was denied food, but canisters of water and a bowl of scraps was slid through his door. Daylen looked up, seeing Moorint standing on the other side.
"Thank you," the Twi'lek whispered.
When training began, Daylen was paired with an alien. That alien fought with a shock stick, and was surprised when Daylen held his own. He spotted Torvan smiling with satisfaction.
"Do you speak basic?" Daylen asked, holding the blue skinned, red eyed man's wrist.
"Better than I speak any other language, you must be from far, far away, the large majority of people at least understand basic but are more comfortable speaking their own language," the man explained.
"So most people here just speak their native language and don't bother using the same language to communicate?" Daylen asked.
"That's pretty much it, I spent most of my life crewed with humans, so I tend to use basic," the alien man explained, stepping away from Daylen and getting back into a fighting stance.
"What's your name, and what species are you, if you don't mind me asking?" Daylen asked.
The question took the man aback. He tilted his head and thought over it before chuckling.
"I'm a Duros, Shriv Suurgav at your service," the man said.
They continued sparring, until told to switch partners. Daylen was reequipped with a staff and faced a familiar Twi'lek.
"You don't know much about anything do you?" Moorint asked, brandishing a pair of wooden swords.
"There are a lot of things I don't know, I speak a little bit of the Twi'lek language but just a few words, how come you guys aren't always speaking it?" Daylen asked.
"We are migrants, we don't use the language of our planet, the accent typical of it or even the clothing. Us migrants are an independent lot, we make our own clothes, our own dwellings, our own food," Moorint explained.
"It sounds as if you were free before," Daylen said.
"Yes, we were," Moorint paused for a moment, shaking his head to forget those now gone times.
He hit Daylen's staff with a flurry of blows, eventually tripping Daylen.
"Thank you for the food," Daylen said.
"Thank you for Oola," Moorint retorted, offering Daylen his hand.
"What happened to her?" he asked.
Moorint's expression became morose and he looked down as he spoke.
"Kalla called her useless, the Rancor bit her foot off, she can't dance as she used to anymore. The Hutt was going to cast her aside, but Torvan bought her, gave her a peg leg and then dumped her with the other women as household slaves," Moorint explained.
Daylen adjusted his stance and grip, clashing with Moorint a few more times before bringing his staff to Moorint's neck.
"The women of your group, are their fighters amongst them?" he asked.
"Better than some of us," Moorint retorted, pointing to the collar still across Daylens neck. "If you're thinking of something, just know there are a lot of people who would prefer to live, even if it meant being chained," Moorint said.
"Even if the chains are simply a path to slow suicide?" Daylen asked.
It was a question Moorint could not bring himself to answer. Free time was given, and in that time Daylen tried to learn as much as he could about the different species he was with, and more importantly about the people. He got beaten up by the group of Zabrak men, though he learned what species they were at least and that they had been sold from a place called Dathomir. The lizard man he tried to interact with had apparently been like him, sitting himself away in his cell, refusing to eat or fight and earning him a shock collar.
"I would leave the Trandoshan alone boy," Vim said, helping him up off of the floor.
He had been knocked out of the cell by the Trandoshan himself.
"Why does he do that?" Daylen asked.
"Probably not for as deep as reasons as you did, at least from our point of view. Trandoshan's worship the scorekeeper, it is how they base their lives, they are hunters you see and throughout their lives they accumulate points for the scorekeeper. Think of it as a literal form of karma, it is their code of honour you could say," Vim explained.
"So what happened?"
"When he was captured, the points he had accumulated over his life became null, he lost all honour I suppose you could say," Vim said.
Daylen looked through the cell door, at the green scaled Trandoshan and noted a potential ally. He turned around, spotting a Twi'lek with one of his head tails cut off. He wasn't part of Moorints group, and Daylen could see that the man was a fighter of lifestyle, scars on his body indicative of that. Daylen was about to try and meet the man when droids came to get him. They pushed him to walk through Torvan's house, Daylen noted the slave pen door, unlocked by one of the droids. He noted the structure of the house itself, positions of consoles, air ducts, droid patrols and which servants are working at the time. By the time he had reached Torvan's office, Daylen had an awareness of the house and what a bad escape plan would be at least. Clearly his brief use of the force and magic together, to survive the vacuum of space had not protected him completely, his photographic memory was not as good as it had once been. Some details escaped him, the colour of the wall tiles, the faces of the servants. More would need to be done before he had fully memorised his new home, and could compose a way to escape it.
"Slave number 13, the red eyed stranger, you have cost me a great of credits, you have much to do to earn it back," Torvan explained.
"Yes, master," Daylen said.
The words clearly pleased Torvan, who walked to a holographic display of an older member of his species, perhaps his father. He looked at it with pride, not just for his lineage, but he promise that he would surpass it. Daylen cast his eyes to a green skinned Twi'lek woman, about his age. She had the bruises that came with defiance, and a shock collar around her neck too. But there was still that defiance in her eyes, the same eyes Daylen had.
"It is time to prove if you have what it takes to be a champion, or just another sacrifice for the arena. Lord Krayt will be there, I trust you will not be stupid enough to attack him again," Torvan said.
"No master," Daylen said to appease him.
"Excellent, then let us go and have glorious battles!" Torvan poured himself a glass of wine and toasted.
As Daylen was led out of the office, Daylen crossed eyes with the Twi'lek girl. Ranna Tao'Ven's heart skipped a beat. Not because of any sort of attraction that may have been ignited that day. But because she recognised that Daylen's eyes were the same as hers. The eyes of someone whom desired freedom, and to protect those who were left. She had finally found an ally.
The arena was booming, shaking from the cheers of those whom watched. Krayt sat upon the throne, Kalla a short distance from him and his acolytes. She feared the dark Jedi more than anyone. That fear faded as they drew closer and closer to the event that everyone was eager for. The red eyed stranger against Raknar Tib's fighter. The human slaver had invested a great deal of credits into the cybernetic enhancement of a shamed republic soldier. Markus Grant had been a veteran of the Mandalorian war, but had killed prisoners of war. He was discharged from the republic military and turned bounty hunter afterwards. Though he had had some success, he eventually incurred a huge gambling debt and had to start serving Raknar. He emerged from the gate to thunderous applause. His greying hair rested on his shoulders, he wore a brown muscle shirt and faded orange, republic style armour on his lower legs. Hydraulic pumps and mechanical mechanisms ran the length of his legs, connecting to armour on his knees and thick metal boots. The harness he wore attached the same kind of tech to his arms. He carried a tech mace, electricity crackling across it, and a tech axe, the blade heated until it glowed orange.
"Ladies and gentlemen, presenting the champion of the Tibia Weapons and armour industry, a veteran of one of the greatest conflicts in the galaxy, with a body count reaching fifty five, outside of the arena," the announcer said to the amusement of the watchers. "Enhanced with Tibia-Tech battle harness Mark 5 edition and Tibia-Tech spinal and ocular implants and armed with melee tech that can make a Jedi's guard stumble, I present to you, the human battle droid, MARKUS GRANT!"
Markus scraped his weapons together and raised them high, drinking in the applause. Across the distance of the arena, Kalla nodded to Raknar. This did not go unnoticed by Talon, even without the force it was clear a plot had been enacted. Again the scales had been tipped, pairing the red eyed stranger with a veteran fighter. They suspected he would lose because of inexperience. The gates opened and the difference between the fighters and their masters became clear. He walked out to applause, wearing baggy trousers and worn boots. A patched up guard had been put on his shoulder and a glove with an armoured bangle on it covered his right hand. His new cybernetic arm had ancient gladiatorial armour covering it. He carried on his shoulder a massive saw cleaver.
"Presenting to you, the new champion of the Renal trading company, he caused an uproar in his first match by killing the champions of our very own Kalla the Hutt, and attacking guests with his mysterious power. This just in, he also killed a rare albino, tusked Rancor, again displaying an incredible power. What tricks will this new and mysterious fighter show us today folks, I give you THE RED EYED STRANGER!" the announcer yelled and the arena shook again.
"LET THE GAMES BEGIN!"
Daylen walked towards his opponent. Markus's cybernetics made him noticeably taller than Daylen. Naturally, Daylen knew he was taller, but that Markus had the more toned muscle mass. Even without cybernetics, Markus, though older would be stronger than him in terms of muscle power. He looked at Markus and was reminded of Loghain, a veteran of war and painted by that experience.
"I don't want to fight you," Daylen said.
"We all have to fight kid, you'll kill me or I'll kill you, don't try to sympathise with me because believe me I don't give a shit whether you live or die, or if the person who comes after you lives or dies. All that matters is survival, mercy will get you into trouble," Markus swung his weapons around, a challenge.
Daylen swung his weapon, flipping the saw blade out of the handle. He gripped the make shift great sword with both hands, as he had seen many warriors in training do. Markus rushed forward at incredible speed, swinging his axe and making Daylen duck. Daylen aimed the sword for the hydraulics on Markus's legs, if he could just crush those then he had an advantage. Markus brought his mace downwards, catching Daylen's sword and making him stumble back. Daylen dragged his sword across the floor and attempting to strike Markus. This time though Markus parried the blade with his mace and swung his axe. Daylen tilted his head back at the last moment, narrowly avoiding the heated blade.
'He's analysing his opponent, improving as he fights him. But, if Markus had these enhancements when he was at his prime, the kid wouldn't stand a chance. The advantage he has as he is now, is the fact that his opponent has aged reduced abilities,' Maximus summarised.
Talon theorised a similar hypothesis, that Daylen would have been dead already if he fought a younger Markus Grant. She watched him barely block and dodge Markus's strikes. Daylen attempted to slash Markus's leg hydraulics again, but had his blade kicked aside. The saw cleaver span, landing in the ground. Markus then thrust his leg at Daylen, the young man raised his hands. The kick landed and Daylen was sent flying back, sliding across the sand and onto his back. Daylen got up off of the floor, much to Markus's shock. The moment replayed in his mind, and he shook his head in frustration.
'Looks like he's utilising his own upgrades too, he raised his hands, and used them to cushion the impact of my kick, clever,' he thought.
Steam came out of his armour as he crouched. There was a boom, sand being thrown up behind him and he launched himself at his opponent, swinging his axe towards Daylen's face.
'Projectile magic is out of the question now, but that doesn't mean you can't utilise magic. Pick and choose the traits of each branch, focus on mixing them together. Rock armour doesn't have to be rock armour, phasing doesn't have to end at just passing through a person, and the fire doesn't have to come from your hands,' Daylen thought as the weapons came towards him.
His body flickered like a ghost.
'That's it, fade shroud to partially exist in the physical realm, now, pass the electricity element through your entire being!' the mage told himself.
As Markus swung his axe through Daylen's body, the blade passed through the mage. Markus widened his eyes, he knew he hit Daylen. The electricity surged through his right arm, shutting down the hydraulics on it for a moment.
'Now with his guard, apply the principals of rock armour to just the right arm, focus, focus on making my body as hard as rock, boosting my defence. But don't stop there, focus fire through the rock, to create...'
Markus turned to Daylen in horror as the young man's right arm was covered in glowing red and black rock, forming a fist around his arm.
'MAGMA ARMOUR!' Daylen swung his fist around.
Markus lifted his mace, the fist snapping through the weapon and striking his face. He was thrown back by the force of it, yelling as part of his face burned. The cybernetic warrior got off of the floor, his cybernetics active again, pumping drugs into his system to fight off the pain of his burnt face. He reared his axe back and threw it.
'You don't have hands, but you are still a mage, your body is the conduit, so eject the fire through your feet if you have to,' Daylen grit his teeth together, feeling his boots burn.
There was an explosion, launching Daylen into the air. He was bare foot, the fire having come from the middle of his feet.
'Now fade step, but not with ice,' he created an explosion with his feet, then used the fade step spell to launch himself at Markus.
Applying he fade shroud at the same time, he also mixed it with two elements other than ice. Electricity surged through Markus's cybernetics as Daylen passed through him, and fire scolded him, fusing some of the hydraulics to his skin as Daylen reappeared behind him.
'Hexes are usually cast with hands at a distance, but they can be cast through touch too, so, pass it through something besides the hand,' Daylen slammed his head into Markus, knocking the older man back, a spark crackling between the two.
Daylen moved in, delivering a flurry of punches to Markus's body and face. The old soldier tried to punch back, but strikes were always misses.
'I'm still a mage of the circle, I'm still a mage of the circle, I'M STILL A MAGE OF THE CIRCLE!' Daylen yelled inwardly, delivering two body shots before slamming his elbow into Markus's chin.
Markus's eyes opened and he yelled. His gauntlets expanded, releasing a hum. Suddenly, Daylen was thrown back, sand thrown on top of him. The crowd grew silent, and Krayt's followers rushed to the edge of the balcony.
"That was no force push," Nihl said.
"Impossible, there were no records of Markus being force sensitive," Maladi said.
"He isn't!"
Kalla looked at Krayt in fear as he rose. He walked to the side of his followers, all of them bowing their heads. He placed his hand on the balcony ledge, squeezing the stone on it.
"Using technology to mimic use of the force, pretender," he growled.
Markus raised his hand, the machines on his gauntlets hummed again. His axe flew back into his hand and he turned to Daylen. The young mage got up off of the floor, spitting blood from his cut lip. Blood and sand, his hair was coated with the sand and he had been partially blinded. Daylen looked towards his opponent and prepared himself.
"You aren't the only one with tricks kid," Markus removed a stim from his belt and injected it through his neck.
Brandishing his axe, Markus rushed towards Daylen again.
Next Episode 27: Lost Secrets
Markus Grant is an OC, for his weapons think the Surge game. A return to Thedas next time, and a return to Canus the Sith warrior.
