Darth Catalyst
Citizen
Dark Lord Immortalis & High Inquisitor
.: Chaos and Cunning
Handling the Hand
Posts: 248 
Likes: 276
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Post by Darth Catalyst on Jul 3, 2017 18:04:03 GMT -5
IC Lord Catalyst Outside Sadow's Tomb
"Yes, yes, That's all well and good, but I would appreciate if we could perhaps call a small hiatus to our bout of verbal sparring, Catalyst. We have a sorely larger issue to resolve now,” Xirr called up from the pit. “I suggest you accept Robyn's help if you truly do need aid in lifting me, though something makes me think that you do not. Old and frail as you may be, you do not seem to lack in the strength department." Aw. How sweet. He’ll play nice when he needs my help. Catalyst could barely contain himself now. Robyn seemed less than amused by the ordeal they found themselves in, however.
"Please, just get me out of here before I die in the crossfire in your little war of words!" she called up to him, not even attempting to hide her eyeroll, "I'm young and strong, maybe I can help pull Lord Xirr out next. Then we'll have to see about Lady Viscretus and the Emperor's Hand."
Catalyst sighed audibly and dramatically. “Alright Shaire, calm down. I’ll help you, but only because I like you,” he said with an air of exasperation while climbing to the top of the hole. “I suggest we check on the Ladies and their predicament first though. I’m sure Xirr understands the concept of ‘ladies first’ even if he has the wherewithal of a Bantha and the wit of a Kowakian Monkey Lizard .” Was that too far? Catalyst didn’t want to actually cause them to come to blows. Plus there was no tact in attacking a defenseless opponent. Nah… Last one though. Xirr wasn’t his enemy. This playful banter had gone far enough for now and Catalyst could appreciate someone able to keep up with him, at least to some degree. He clambered up over the edge and lowered the rope. “Grab on Initiate.”
TAG: Volshe,Padawan4687,dice,Darth Dreadwar,
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Padawan4687
Imperial Intelligence
.: Empress' Sword / Director of Intelligence
Posts: 133 
Likes: 112
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Post by Padawan4687 on Jul 3, 2017 22:29:26 GMT -5
IC: Alisha Tano
Location: Recovery Wing, The Triumphant
Once her Mentor left the Engine room, Alisha left herself, walking swiftly in the other direction. She absently rubbed her eyes as she went, thinking back to the bridge and the bodies she’d been forced to leave behind. These monsters have plenty to answer to once I join Shira. Alisha swallowed hard upon reaching the medical level’s entrance, not looking forward to seeing that disgusting cloud of moving insects again. For the moment though, she nodded to a few soldiers waiting to be seen.
She paused at a particular door just in time to see a boy on his way out, and Alisha took a step back to give him room. It looked like he had been crying, with swollen, reddened eyes… he hurried past without speaking. She wasn't even certain if he'd seen her.
Alisha hesitated for a long string of seconds just outside the shut doorway until she caught the feeling of a mental poke. “Sorry,” she spoke first, ducking inside, “I just thought I was interrupting.” White bandages were wrapped across the top of Xal’den’s head, cutting across his dark hair, but he managed a tired smile at her entrance.
//You’re not, it’s okay...//
Why use the mental link…? Alisha thought to herself, sitting down beside his bed, We aren’t exactly pressed for time right now... “How are you feeling?” she asked, nerves creeping into her voice, “Can you talk?”
Xal coughed, and sat up in bed before attempting to answer. “I can, I can. Just, it’s painful to move my jaw… I did a lot of talking earlier.” Alisha felt her shoulders sink in the seat, his voice had gone so soft and strained in the span of what, a half-hour from when they last talked? //That bump to my head left me with a pounding headache too, it’s been a really fun hour.//
“That bump to your head clearly didn’t affect your sarcasm,” Alisha commented, getting a rueful smile out of him.
"Good thing, right?" Xal quickly settled back into keeping his jaw still, and his smile vanished. //...what of the intruders?//
“They're captured now,” Alisha replied without missing a beat, “Held in the brig, waiting to be interrogated in a few hours by myself and the Hand.”
//Good. Glad to hear it.// Xal’s telepathic voice suddenly went low. //They can’t hurt, or kill anybody else then.// He shut his eyes for a long second, and they went glassy when he opened them again. //The boy that just left was Halhan, a newly recruited member of my guard. He wasn’t in the barracks... He was spared.// He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly looking defeated. //Some of those officers were married… with children, even. I have to, tell the families-//
“Not yet you don’t!” Alisha silenced his rushing telepathic voice by rushing forward herself with a hug. “...that’s a bridge we’ll worry about crossing later.”
“...we?” Xal’den quietly asked aloud, coughing again. The hug went loose enough for him to take in Alisha’s mildly-offended expression.
“Of course!” she moved forward to lightly kiss the top of his head against the bandages, before settling back down into the chair and even leaning over the edge of the bed with her elbows. “I’m not going anywhere."
The appreciative smile Xal'den was planning to give changed to an eyebrow raise at her second sentence. //But Alisha, you said you'll be needed to scare the hell out of some prisoners in just a few hours...//
"And, you're nursing a concussion right now, on top of a double shift yesterday. So, we're at a stalemate."
//A stalemate? Well... after being knocked out cold, a voluntary nap doesn't sound so bad.// Xal telepathically commented, letting his head fall back against the pillow with an audible sigh. "... I'd like to just, not think for a while."
So would I. Alisha quietly nodded, feeling his already-subdued aura sink into sleep minutes later. She let her head sink to the edge of the bed, intending to watch for a minute in case a nightmare struck. Instead, she wound up nodding off herself.
TAG: No one
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Jul 5, 2017 7:05:01 GMT -5
IC: The Evil TarpSmuggling hold, the Durendal, in orbit above OdessenTarps should not be conscious. It was very happy being unconscious. Well, not quite. It was very happy not being happy, not being anything but a plain old tarp to be thrown over old sofas, crates of Kint's latest treasure hauls, and personal effects of a nature the Masarian might not want a female visitor to see. This new sensation was uncomfortable and the tarp hated it. It thought, and therefore it was, and with being and awareness came being aware that one was a useless old tarp whose mere purpose was to be carelessly thrown over things and with awareness of the general abysmal nature of the universe and the pitiless, absurd meaningless of existence, the tarp hated its purpose, hated its newfound consciousness and hated the Masarian mercenary that had never even bothered to fold it neatly when putting it away let alone do anything else that indicated he cared about his erstwhile tarp at all... The Masarian mercenary who had not quite conceptualised that covering the Aetheric Mirror of Ambria with a tarp did not negate its unchallengeable power of reflection, but merely placed another object in its field.The harsh fabric of the tarp developed a crease that eerily resembled an angry frown, and the tarp slid off the Mirror, which that same Masarian mercenary had unwisely placed in the same hold as his and Persevus' looted valuables. The Mirror stood, unmoving, soaking in the golden glint of talismans of defense, amulets of offense, the Mask of Nihilus, the Rakatan Mind Trap and a thousand other things of power that were quite terrifying enough on their own, let alone warped in the inviolable gaze of the Mirror. Kint Dranlor was sharpening his tools when the tarp floated into the cell. The rustling of fabric as it wafted lazily through the doorway would have announced its coming, but it was surprisingly easy to miss despite it being a hovering karking tarp with a supremely unnerving signature of malevolent intelligence in the Force. Its edges were strangely blurred, the folds in its rippling fabric occasionally showing the wall behind it or even flashes of stars in a way that could suggest the tarp's visible properties of covering had been inverted by the Mirror into a potential invisibility cloak straight out of Corellian fairy tales... If it could be tamed. The tarp rushed Kint Dranlor, wrapping itself around his face and neck before tightening painfully, its coarse fabric stretching like plastfilm over his armoured countenance as it attempted to starve its owner of oxygen. Glee radiated from its unnatural aura, redolent of its malicious intent to skin the Masarian into its own tarp to abuse. TAG: gorzan elu--- IC: Darth ApollyonStuck in a pit, KorribanApollyon could vaguely hear the voice of Robyn Shaire, seemingly calling up the adjacent pit. That was good. That indicated someone remained above-ground, free from the snare, or perhaps had climbed out... Catalyst, probably, given the cryoban gauntlets. She turned to smile at Viscretus, relieved at the prospect of rescue - they had nothing to climb out themselves, she didn't think, at least not quickly. Her smile died. There was something wrong with Viscretus; her eyes were unfocused, for one, and it just occurred to Apollyon that her eloquent companion had not said a word since falling. The cause was obvious; a thin trickle of blood down her scalp betrayed the wound to Viscretus' head from where she had hit the unforgiving rock of the pit's interior. Shavit. Concussions and the like would be nothing before Viscretus' healing powers, Apollyon knew, but so long as they were stuck in the pit Viscretus would not be able to command the Force to such ends. "Help!" Apollyon shouted as loud as she could, hoping Catalyst or whoever was free could hear her. "Get us out of here!" TAG: Darth Catalyst dice Padawan4687 Volshe
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Padawan4687
Imperial Intelligence
.: Empress' Sword / Director of Intelligence
Posts: 133
Likes: 112
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Post by Padawan4687 on Jul 5, 2017 21:46:15 GMT -5
IC: Robyn Shaire
Location: Valley of the Dark LordsStill more wordplay. Robyn couldn't help but roll her eyes at Catalyst's dramatics, but she called out a brief thanks before stepping towards the rope. "Lord Catalyst, your complete and utter lack of tact knows no bounds," she couldn't resist a little jab of her own as she grabbed the rope with both hands. Robyn continued as she hoisted herself up, "You are on your own... if Lord Xirr... decides to lunge for you!" Her words were punctuated with pauses as she climbed. "I already have a Sith after my blood..." she grumbled, now halfway up. She was more talking to herself this time. "I... am not about to become someone's meat shield-" Lady Apollyon's shouting interrupted her train of thought, and Robyn began climbing faster on instinct. She could only look up curiously at Catalyst, it sounded like the Sith Ladies really might need help... good thing she was almost at the top. TAG: Darth Catalyst , dice
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Jul 6, 2017 6:55:06 GMT -5
IC: Rear Admiral FirmettThe Triumphant, entering the Odessen systemThe briefing in the Empress' Quarters proceeded with a dullness characteristic of experienced Imperials mopping up the aftermath of a battle - more literally than metaphorical, given the cleansing of pools of Mnggal-Mnggal still infesting nooks and crannies of the gargantuan ship. Shira A'dola and Grand Admiral No were both less talkative than usual, leaving high-ranking Imperial Knights and mundane officers to take over the discussion, with Rear Admiral Firmett occasionally interjecting with stiff objections to spending time and resources on cleanup. The mysterious black tar, he contended, could be dealt with as it cropped up; it did not seem to be a potent chemical or biological weapon, but merely some sort of harmless hivemind the invaders had brought with them, perhaps an experiment gone wrong or an unfortunate alien prisoner. He was overruled. The Imperial Knights, together, quite forcefully countered that the tar had an incredibly peculiar and disconcerting signature in the Force, or rather an almost perfect absence of one, redolent of Yuuzhan Vong writ large. And then the briefing was over, and an ensign entered the quarters, crisply saluting just as the ship shuddered in an abrupt jerk. The Triumphant soared out of hyperspace, the blade of its angular hull slicing into realspace as the wash of cobalt fire that surrounded it condensed to pinpricks of stark light. They had arrived at their destination, triggering an alarm that woke Alisha Tano from her nap in the medbay - not that it was necessary, as another ensign swiftly arrived at the bed, holding a holoprojector that displayed the goings-on at both the secondary bridge and the Empress' Quarters, including the latest visuals... And a comm signal. "Hail Ladies Tano and A'dola, greetings Grand Admiral," the moustached form of Captain Percius Nolwold Cosmington of Her Majesty's Ship the Accuser flickered into life. "We were beginning to get worried." The Accuser, like the rest of the Imperial fleet, had already arrived in-system an hour before, Cosmington explained, since their primary hyperdrives had not been disabled. The yellow star, it turned out, was the sun of a system whose location had long been lost, yet whose legend had been recorded in the Imperial Archives, and verified by the Imperial Knights on-board the other ships of the fleet. The system of the planet Odessen, a world that had played a major role in the Sith Wars of millennia ago, a world uniquely balanced between light and dark in a synesthetic harmony of blues and reds, creating an aura within the Force of forest greens and scintillating golden light that any sensitive aboard the Triumphant would be able to perceive. And within that river of coalescing energy, there was a single fountain of stark light, brighter than the sun, colder than the interstellar void, a perfect crystal of icy blue like the heart of a Jedi's lightsaber. "...and the locals have already contacted us," Cosmington was saying. "Without your presence, my Ladies, Grand Admiral, I took leave to send a detachment down to Odessen's surface, and what we found was quite remarkable. I was quite suspicious of the locals' generosity in offering us food, shelter, fuel, materiel and even much-needed repairs, but that suspicion faded when I discovered who they were." Cosmington beamed, pleased to be the bearer of good news - for the first time in many months. "We have found a splinter sect of Jedi, deeper in the Unknown Regions than I ever thought possible. We know they are not the only ones - you are familiar, My Sword, with the Guardians of Light and the New Jedi Trials - but these... Holy Jedi of the Terrible Glare, they call themselves... seem more ancient than any other. They are not the only Force-users on Odessen - we have encountered an eclectic coven of multiple Force traditions called the Shado Varmiri, which includes even a few Febrayasi - yet these 'Jedi Ordu Aspectu' provide protection for the entire planet. The villagers told our away team that the Jedi are so powerful with the light that what they call Destructors, which seems to be their name for the pyramid fleets, dare not come to the system, but one of the Shado Varmiri told us that the Jedi simply have a Holocron that repels them." Cosmington shrugged. "Either way, I would suggest my Ladies, at least, take a shuttle planetside immediately - the Jedi leader wants to meet our leaders outside their Cathedral. And in the meantime, I can ask the Jedi for the resources, and send a team to repair the Triumphant's hyperdrive. The chase, at long last, is over." And indeed, Captain Cosmington had been speaking now for many minutes, and not a single pyramid ship had appeared. They had, at last, found a potential sanctuary of the sort Shira A'dola had fled into the Unknown Regions to find. Perhaps, even, political asylum. Finally, there was hope. And several decks down and several passages away, Lord Hypnos found hope, too. Not because his trick had worked, no; the Imperial Knights did not scatter duly at the illusion's command, their senses finely attuned to such forms of deception. But rather, just as they reached for their lightsabers, they suddenly noticed an unremarkable angle-poised desk lamp sitting on a table at the opposite end of the hall from the faux Firmett, and suddenly found themselves entirely entranced... To the degree that one of the Knights even found himself kneeling before the desk, pledging his allegiance to the lamp. The voice returned, scratching at Hypnos' mental ear with its characteristic rasp, urging him. You have arrived at the destination of which I spoke, and I must depart. The voice gave no indication it found the scene outside the cell bizarre in any way, as if Imperial Knights turning their back on the cell they were guarding to worship a lamp was entirely routine. Go, quickly... while the guards are yet awed. Change into a new chassis, less conspicuous, and go to the surface. Seek the Mirror. It was last in the Cathedral of Holy Jedi Spirits, yet it may have been removed already. Do not fail me. And the lamp faded away just as the voice did, leaving stricken Imperial Knights staring at the afterimage where it had been, and the way clear for Hypnos' escape. --- (combo with Gorzan) On the other side of Odessen, meanwhile, the Durendal was orbiting, out-of-sight of the new Imperial fleet yet on a course that would inevitably bring them within visual range of each other over the next few minutes. In the cell, Kint sat, sharpening his knives in the silence. Then, behind him, he heard the door open. He spun, dropping the daggers he planned to torture Persevus with. His hand struck out as the tarp moved forward, catching one end of it. However, the other end wrapped around his face and neck. While his helmet and armor prevented him from choking, the effect was still disorienting, causing him to be blinded. He grabbed it with his other hand and tore it away from his face, tossing it away and using the force to try to hold it in the air, examining it. The tarp shivered as it hung there, suspended, rebuffing Kint's power with an unnatural strength that defied all logic, straining against the telekinetic hold. Ordinarily, Kint would have had no problem overcoming its resistance, yet the tarp was psychically slippery in a way hard to describe; hard to see in the Force, and harder to still to maintain one's mental grasp of the object, thus harder still to manifest that grip as telekinetic reality. And so, within only a few short seconds, the tarp had squirmed free more surely than a wriggling whisper kitten, and when it did so it swiftly propelled itself past Kint, right towards the cell's far bulkhead... The wall of the ship's hull, keeping out the howling emptiness of space. Kint thought fast, reaching out and attempting to catch it on its path past him. With his other hand, he yanked open a drawer on his cabinet, grabbing four electromagnets and using them to pin each corner to the floor. Then he reached out with the force, trying to sense the tarp. He tried to calm its presence, so that it would cease its ridiculous actions. The tarp's anger was difficult to quell. As Kint tentatively felt around its evasive presence in the Force, he would perceive the source of the anger. He would see himself, discarding the tarp carelessly. He would see the tarp's fury at being left creased and wrinkled, as opposed to being neatly folded away every night. He would see its hatred at the spot of dirt staining its off-white fabric. And he would see its resentment of Kint for its existence; it did not want to be conscious, but Kint's actions had brought it to life, and now it wanted revenge for every miserable and negative emotion it had felt over the past few minutes of existential crisis. Yet most perceptible of all was its imperceptibility, how it dodged around his mental probes, and Kint would feel its own confidence, that instead of providing a visible covering for things this Mirrored tarp would provide an invisible covering, and expose them to the fullest definition of nakedness - expose them, perhaps, to the extent of rendering things entirely invisible, intangible. Kint frowned, perturbed. "You... you have feelings?" He chuckled. Then he reached out with his mind again, this time not seeking to dominate or interrogate it, but simply to communicate. "I'm sorry for anything and everything I have done that hurt you. But know this: I could use you. You are most especially useful, and I would never mistreat something useful. So, what do you say?" Was I not useful as a simple tarp? Look at how you mistreated me then! When was the last time you ironed me? These were the thoughts, dipped in caustic feeling, that assailed Kint's mind as he continued to probe the tarp's aura. Yet nonetheless, its shivering began to die to mere twitching, as it seemed to pause in contemplation. Reluctance enveloped it, yet there was a tinge of acceptance, as if the tarp had reached a conclusion. It would serve Kint, but only in exchange for the most luxurious treatment a tarp could ever receive. But before Kint could do anything, a beeping reached his ears from the cockpit. Proximity alarm. Not the Imperial fleet, no; they were still several light-minutes away. It was a smaller ship, closing fast. Its pilot, Lemmy. The old Feeorin had been approached two days prior on the pirate haven of Terminus by a reptilian Tiss'shar whose name was entirely too long to remember; the avian dinosaur, however, had proposed a job that was certainly worth remembering. He had told Lemmy there was a very special Mirror on the planet Odessen, an ancient artifact that had the potential ability to replicate anything - or turn it into an inversed copy of itself, to fantastical effect. The Tiss'shar had not offered credits, although the implication of an artifact capable of replicating anything in terms of rapid wealth generation was obvious, but he had spoken of the sheer once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of such a job, the uniqueness and excitement of acquiring this artifact, and potentially the adrenaline-pumping experience of competing against Sith and other powerful folk to find it. The job he had proposed to Lemmy was simple, and suited his extensive career in piracy: attack any ship leaving Odessen, and loot it, retrieving the Mirror if found. He had given Lemmy a small trinket to mount above his dashboard, a little amulet he had assured him would reveal even cloaked ships on nearby sensors. Dy'nonik'iss, of course, had told Lemmy it was archaic Rakatan technology, not the magic the Feeorin was so skeptical of. Dy'nonik'iss had been purposefully vague on what to do if Lemmy actually succeeded in finding the Mirror. TAG: Darth Catalyst gorzan Shira Volshe Padawan4687 elu
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Darth Catalyst
Citizen
Dark Lord Immortalis & High Inquisitor
.: Chaos and Cunning
Handling the Hand
Posts: 248
Likes: 276
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Post by Darth Catalyst on Jul 6, 2017 15:17:02 GMT -5
IC Lord Catalyst Outside Sadow's Tomb; Korriban
Catalyst could only smile and shake his head at Robyn’s retorts. There wasn’t much she could do to sway his mind from the continuous verbal lashings. He was simply having too much fun. As he pulled her up over the edge he spoke quietly so only she would hear him. “Now now initiate,” he chided, “you should be thanking me. Lord Xirr has already expressed a desire to drain you of your ichors. Be thankful he has earned our ire by choosing to do so rather than a commendation.” He took the rope back and peered down at Apollyon and Viscretus. “Speaking of blood…” He trailed off distractedly. There was a lot coming from Viscretus. Her head injury looked very serious. And of course it has to be the healer. He tied the rope off into a loop again and tossed that end down for Apollyon. “Tie this around Viscretus,” he called down to her, no trace of his signature humor in his voice. “We need to address her wounds quickly. I can pull you up while the Initiate looks after her. I’ll probably need your assistance with Xirr.”
TAG: Darth Dreadwar ,Volshe ,Padawan4687 ,dice
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IC Lord Hypnos Triumphant Brig
If Hypnos had eyes capable of it, they would be rolling. Now he was all but certain he was dealing with Dreadwar. Who else would have the gall to take the form of a lowly lamp and still render two Imperial Knights helpless. Of course he was not complaining. His trick had failed him and yet he was still being given the opportunity to escape. The problem of his chassis was one he had also taken consideration of. Thankfully it was still an astromech shell at heart. A small bit of warping to the legs and discarding the portion the cannon was leashed to, along with the cannon itself, was simple. He was considerably less conspicuous than his previous iteration. He would miss this chassis though. It was the crown jewel of his arsenal among the toys he kept on Venomis’s ship. He could rebuild all of it. For now though, this mirror was his priority. He rolled out of his cage, only stopping to pluck a lightsaber from one of the Imperial Knights. He would wander the ship for now, searching for another unsuspecting droid to supplant himself into. Naturally the first place to check would be the area in the most dire need of a droid presence: The engine bay. He would use his mechanical hypnotism on the next astromech he saw, luring it away into a secluded area before gutting it and inserting his crystalline brain.
TAG: Darth Dreadwar ,
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IC Lemmy In Orbit Above Odessen
The sound of classic Jizz permeated every corner of the Dauntless as it lazily orbited Odessen. Lemmy was bored. The damned Tiss’shar (Dynonticus? Dominatrix? Whatever) had promised this would be an exciting adventure. Of course Lemmy wasn’t going to be taken for a fool. He knew what lived on Odessen.
Jedi.
But he would come for them if this didn’t pan out in his favor. They weren’t his target. This ancient mirror of copying was. And whatever ship it was on. He didn’t see any ships leaving the planet. There was a smattering of Imperial controlled cruisers that pulled out of Hyperspace. Lots of them. Lemmy knew better than to try and take them on head on. They had bigger guns.. Plus they were coming in, not going out. There was no chance they would have anything of real value. His protocol droid, a 3D-4X administrative unit that he’d stolen ages ago from a Rodian freighter and taken to lovingly calling Turdf*cker, was quick to remind him so. “Sir, your instructions from the Tiss’shar were quite clear. We were to wait for any ships departing the planet and intercept them.”
“You think I don’t know that, Turd?” Lemmy growled back. "All we’ve been doing for hours is waiting around this boring world.” He sat back in his chair and grumbled to himself. “When I see that gecko again I’m gonna turn him inside out.” He picked up the amulet from his console and waved it angrily at the droid. “This fraggin’ trinket is worthless too! Reveals invisible ships.. I knew he was pulling me a fast one.” Even as he spoke though, a flashing light on his control panel alerted him to an incoming ship. He stuffed the amulet into his pocket and brought up an image on his viewscreen. The distinct silhouette of a V2P7 Falcon Cargo Freighter showed in front of him. He didn’t recognize the ship at all but he knew it was leaving Odessen and that meant it was ripe for looting. He turned towards the mystery ship and plotted an intercept course. While Lemmy was busy piloting, his droid was manning the comms station and hailing the ship they were barreling towards.
“Hail Unidentified Freighter. This is 3D-4XR of the patrol ship Dauntless,” Turd recited like he had a million times before. “We would like to request permission to dock and search your ship for contraband.” This tactic was one that rarely worked. But usually people were so preoccupied with the droid badgering them with protocol that they didn’t notice the velocity of the incoming ship until it had rammed them with its pointed front end. For the Dauntless had been stolen from an Imperial captain named Oicunn, who was known for his proclivity for close quarters flying. He had his ship upgraded with a reinforced front end to better facilitate a tactic which revolved around ramming at top speed. Which was precisely what was about to happen to Kint Dranlor unless he took evasive action.
TAG: elu ,gorzan Darth Dreadwar ,
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Volshe
Administrator 
.: Empress
Posts: 229
Likes: 163
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Post by Volshe on Jul 8, 2017 15:50:33 GMT -5
IC: Darth Viscretus
Valley of the Dark LordsIt was suddenly dark. So very dark. A starless night, not even a sliver of moon...and with the unending blackness came the rushing of tide, rhythmic as it pounded against some nearby shores. Voices broke through the roar, faint, familiar. Could she return to her sleep? She had not slept in so very long, she had not surrendered to such peaceful non-existence for what felt like an eternity. The pulsing tide, the breeze, both so cold. Sleep...sleep was warm. Comforting. Welcoming. Open arms of soft ebony stretching about her, welcoming her into rest...her body slackened as her breath eased from her lungs. " Help!" Apollyon, the histrionic proselyte was interfering with her slumber. Rage bubbled from her chest. Copper nipped at her tongue. Blood.
Her eyes snapped open to a blur of earthen tones and the glare of sun. She winced, fighting the urge to shut them tightly against waves of nausea. The darkness was poison, now, more bitter than the bile that rose in her throat. Soft ebony became claws, gripping her conscious mind in unbreakable grasp. The crashing waves began to quicken - her pulse throbbing in her ears. Her body would not respond to incessant command, the Force was silent. She could not stop the pain, she could not soothe the agony, she could not fight the darkness. Fear widened her eyes - merely temporarily - before the malevolent sleep returned for her. The vaguest ripples of the Force, skittering through the sands, were replaced by an incessant pounding in her head. Her elegant features contorted into a grimace as her body was shifted, rope secured about her. Each tug brought her another shock of nauseating pain. Suddenly she was being tugged in yet another direction, her skull and brain colliding with such magnitude she wished for her immediate demise. At last the Force returned to her, as suddenly as it had vanished. Unhand me! She attempted, the words sticking between violet-painted lips before she collapsed to the sands beside the pit, the booming voices and sun garish to her wounded senses. Her hand rose to her head, blood staining the pale skin as it trickled onto the damp sands - an attempt to soothe the ache and stop the bleeding. TAG: Darth Catalyst , Padawan4687, Darth Dreadwar, dice TAGSET: False Tomb of Naga Sadow
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gorzan
Citizen
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Likes: 60
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Post by gorzan on Jul 9, 2017 21:36:12 GMT -5
IC: Kint Dranlor Location: space above odessen Kint Dranlor heard the alarm and looked up, seeing the approaching ship in his scanners. "Kriff... the worst bloody timing." He turned, and injected persevus in the neck with another dose to keep him down, and then ran back to the bridge. Hopping into the pilot seat he began warming up the hyperdrive, programming in a route that could have three possible stops. Then he responded, "patrol ship 3D-4XR, this is Imperial Cargo Transport Echo-Niner 43L, transporting precious cargo. Requesting verification code, over." Then he hopped up, leaving his headset on. It was all well spoken bullshit, a bluff to buy him time. He pulled out two shaped detonation charges and placed them inside the end of his docking ring. Then he extended the docking ring as though he was preparing the enemy to board. He warned up his weapon systems and began the wait, checking and rechecking his systems, and waiting for either a response or for his hyperdrive to finish its data. Tags: eluDarth DreadwarDarth Catalyst |
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Darth Catalyst
Citizen
Dark Lord Immortalis & High Inquisitor
.: Chaos and Cunning
Handling the Hand
Posts: 248
Likes: 276
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Post by Darth Catalyst on Jul 10, 2017 15:17:43 GMT -5
IC Lord Catalyst Outside Sadow's Tomb
Catalyst made an effort to pull Viscretus out of her pit as quickly as he could. As he laid her down on the sand and uncoiled the rope from around her, he took less than a second to whisper into her ear so that none of the others could hear, “We’re even.” He looked over at Robyn and nodded down to Viscretus. “Look after her. If you know any healing arts, now is the time to use them. If not, just keep her warm, stem the blood and try not to jostle her too much.” He strode back to the pit and tossed the rope down for Apollyon, bracing his feet in the sand with telekinetic power. “Climb!” he called down to her. “I’ve got you.”
TAG:Padawan4687 ,Darth Dreadwar ,Volshe ,dice
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IC Lemmy In Orbit above Odessen
“Sir,” Turd chimed after turning off his comms, “They are requesting a clearance code.”
“I heard! I heard!” Lemmy shouted back at him. “But look, they’re already extending their docking clamps.” He frowned. “Clearly this pilot is just incredibly foolish or they reeeeally want us connected to them.” The frown contorted to a malicious grin and he flipped a few switches on his console. “All shields to the fore!” he barked. “Cannons and torpedoes primed! He wants us to dock? Oh we’ll dock... Like a Rancor in heat mounting a Bantha! But first we gotta make a hole!”
“Understood sir.” Turd flipped his comm screen back on. “Dauntless to Imperial Cargo Transport Echo-Niner 43L: Prepare to receive authentication codes and initiate docking procedures.” With the push of a button, a code that was about 120 years out of date was broadcasted to Kint.
Lemmy pushed his throttle all the way forward and cackled madly. The Dauntless roared forward with surprising agility for a ship of its size, the pointed tines of its nose directed at the airlock of Kint’s ship. “RAMMING SPEED”
TAG: gorzan ,elu ,Darth Dreadwar ,
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Padawan4687
Imperial Intelligence
.: Empress' Sword / Director of Intelligence
Posts: 133
Likes: 112
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Post by Padawan4687 on Jul 13, 2017 23:43:28 GMT -5
IC: Alisha TanoLocation: Recovery Wing, The Triumphant A month of desperate fleeing from mystery predator-ships was a great refresher course in getting through a full day on little if any sleep. However, that didn't make the blaring alarm that cut through Alisha's precious seconds of sleep any less unpleasant! She managed to combine a groan and a yawn together as she maneuvered to sit upright again, quietly cursing the sound in her mind. Alisha noted the heavily-muted aura beside her while rubbing an eye. Xal's still asleep...? The door to his room slid open before she was fully awake herself. A young man, probably an Ensign judging from his uniform hurried in carrying a holoprojector. Alisha cast a single, slightly guilty glance at the bed before accepting the projector and setting it on the ground in front of her seat. From there, her own hologram appeared at the table of the briefing and she could see Captain Cosmington's visage... as well as a new planet. The Odessen system, he was saying. After experiencing the sheer black void that was the strange monsters, the aura completely surrounding the planet felt more like an ocean. Colors were blending together in a haze thick enough from space to stun Alisha speechless. The revelation that there were Jedi on the surface was nearly enough to make her jaw drop. They have Jedi, they have Sith they have Febrayasi, I want to see everything! I would very much like to know what these locals "are"... I get the distinct feeling they aren't human, or Twi'lek or any familiar being I've seen.Alisha rested a hand against her chest, her tiredness completely forgotten. She could feel her heartbeat racing through her own uniform. "That is very welcome news, Captain!" Her voice was even, but Alisha couldn't quite hide her relieved grin even through the grainy hologram, "I'd only suggest a thorough bioscan before sending anyone here down to the surface. I don't want to risk even a single cell of that black tar getting off of this ship."
TAG: Darth Dreadwar , Shira , @volshe
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Shira
Administrator
.: Empress' Hand
Posts: 135
Likes: 114
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Post by Shira on Jul 17, 2017 20:56:43 GMT -5
IC: Shira A’dola
The Triumphant
It took all of Shira’s remaining awareness to keep her jaw from dropping. This couldn’t be. She had never heard of so many sects living together on a single planet, particularly with as rare as Febrayasi were in comparison to groups like the Jedi and Sith. Then add that they were so seemingly powerful that the pyramids steered clear of a planet so rich in everything...Well it seemed too good to be true. Indeed, Shira’s suspicions were already raising to the surface and her frayed mentality broke a few more strands when she heard they wanted to be seen immediately. Would she never be allowed to sleep?
A frown creased her brow for a few moments before she nodded to Cosmington. “Thank you for informing me of this, Captain. The news is most welcome. Rest assured we will arrive at the surface soon. Please send a message to whomever is in charge on Odesson that we will meet them soon. Inform them that there is still some urgent remaining business to be attended to aboard the ship. We will land planetside as soon as we can. Thank them for their astounding hospitality and aid. We could not be more grateful.”
Colours blended together in Shira’s vision; the stim was wearing off and she was in significant danger of losing consciousness in the middle of the hallway. She stumbled towards her quarters, mind hazy from sleep deprivation. Clumsy limbs pulled her through the hole in the wall and she barely had time to remove her clothing before she collapsed onto her bed. One last disorganised message was sent to Alisha through their mental link informing her of their plans. An indistinct hope that her message made sense and she was falling into oblivion.
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A cerulean plasma blade ignites in the darkness, illuminating the ghostly form of a woman, form indistinct and flickering in the light of the ‘saber. Shira’s breath catches in her chest as chilled dread fills her mind.
This cannot be. Not again.
Hot pain explodes across her spine and she cries out; but before her voice can carry far, her body slams into a wall behind her, voice choked into silence, and she remembers. The quieter she is, the better it will be.
You’ve disappointed me. You continue to disappoint me. When will you learn that your failures will cost you?
I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
Look at the state of this ship, this fleet. Why the Empress has entrusted it to you I will never know. You’ve never been capable. So many dead.
There is true sorrow, genuine regret in the woman’s voice, like a lament brought by knowledge that it would have gone better if she had been awarded control.
I’m sorry, Force I’m sorry.
You are not nearly sorry enough! So many dead, so many lives evaporated from the Force because of your shortcomings. Your mistakes. I thought I could mould you, make you better than you were, yet you continuously disappoint me. We are connected. I feel your remorse. You will come to know the true meaning of contrition when I am done with you.
Agony ripples in her mind, the pain coming in waves and she tries to break off the Bond herself, but she is not strong enough, and -
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Shira hit the ground with a yelp, jumping to her feet wildly, eyes wide as she turned in circles, desperately searching the room. Dream and reality slowly began to separate in her mind and she fell to her knees, chest heaving in relieved gasps of breath. Fingers twitched silently as the phantom remnants of pain faded from her mind. Her jaw ached from clamping her mouth in silence while she slept and the river-stone floated into her vision, a subconscious pleading for tranquility. The stone turned lazily in the air and began to glow gently and Shira’s eyes, still wide from fear and disconcertment, focused intently on the soft light. Shaking hands came together in a gesture of meditation and, slowly, her mind and body began to calm. Minutes passed by uncounted and, when Shira was sure she had regained control, she directed the stone into her hand, turning the smooth object passively before setting it gently on the bed.
The chrono showed she’d been asleep a solid four hours and yet, impossibly, she felt more exhausted than when she’d lost consciousness. The Vraeling shook her head tiredly and stood, dressing herself in formal uniform. Preference would have lead her to don something more comfortable, but between meeting the leader of a totally uncharted planet and her own doubts about the situation, pulling rank was regretfully necessitated. She frowned, recalling Captain Cosmington’s report. There was a powerful aura about this planet; it was the reason she had directed the fleet here. Yet, she wasn’t entirely convinced that it was the presence of the Light. It was muddled and confused and, while that might be the conglomeration of several different denominations of Force users, it could also be...something else.
‘Saber was strapped to belt and high, polished boots were pulled on. Shira walked swiftly to the med-bay for another dose of stimulants and then trotted to The Triumphant’s shuttle-bay, twisting her golden curls into an elaborate, though practical, braid. She sent a blessedly coherant message to Alisha to follow her as soon as possible and commandeered a shuttle towards the planet of Odesson, trying to prepare herself for whatever she may find.
TAG: Padawan4687, Darth Dreadwar
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Jul 18, 2017 18:44:20 GMT -5
POSTING Shira 's POST ON HER BEHALF:
IC: Kevala and Scionica
Political Gathering, Korriban
Screams were all Scionica could manage as her life literally flashed before her eyes. Hidden and buried memories returned violently to the forefront of her mind and she protested futilely. These were memories forgotten with purpose and reason, she could not face them; yet her choice and ability stolen away, her mind rebelled. These memories were not something she cherished and this pain was not of a genre she could take pleasure in, the mania and euphoria utterly absent, and...and...and... Kevala shrieked mentally, panicking as her twin’s sanity slipped away thread by thread, her connection to her sister unravelling and twisting into a tangled bundle of demented chattering. Hysteric tears flowed down her ashen face as Scionica’s charcoal eyes rolled, shrill screams splitting both her eardrums and her mind. A sudden absence numbed her mind temporarily as virtually all life in the vicinity was extinguished like thousands of candle flames. They full abruptly; Kevala yelped at the unexpected impact of solid ground and, had she not been otherwise preoccupied, she may have noticed a stream of energy flowing into the cloaked god before them. As it was, Kevala rolled to her feet and aimed a precise kick towards her seizing twin, clipping her temple neatly. A sigh of immense relief escaped her and she dropped to her knees. Whatever they had planned for this mission, these occurrences had never crossed even their wildest expectations and her body was letting her know how unhappy it was. Her heart raced uncomfortably, making her head spin. Limbs trembled and her vision blurred faintly for a moment before she was able to refocus. “You were sent by Mandalore...Of your target, you must not speak. Volshe is dead. There is only Darth Viscretus.” Kevala turned, a frown on her face. Was there distraction in that venemous whisper? The cuffs dropped from her wrists and she rubbed them absent-mindedly, watching as Dreadwar walked away, an air of expectation left behind in his receding footsteps. The woman willed her body to calm enough to function and she hoisted Scionica up onto her shoulders, thanking the Maker that her sister stayed on the slim side. Balancing carefully, she walked after the figure that was swiftly fading from sight. TAG: Darth Dreadwar
GM UPDATE
IC: Darth ApollyonValley of the Dark Lords, KorribanApollyon squinted with eyes as fiery as the sun that blighted her, as she clambered out of the pit, having done as Catalyst bade and tied the rope around Viscretus before climbing on herself. The Force returned to her as a rush of sulphuric power, enriching, the coldness of the dark side more warming than Horuset's glare. She could feel the Force being tugged towards a nexus of power to her right, and she smiled as Viscretus, even fallen ungainly to the sands, clasped a hand to her wounded cranium. The dimness in her friend's aura resolved, as the confused blur of her signature crystallised into stark leylines of arcane might. Viscretus evidently could concentrate enough through her concussion to draw upon her healing arts, stemming the flow of blood. "I think Lady Viscretus has her wound under control, Inquisitor," Apollyon chuckled, proud of the blonde Sith Lady's resilience as always. She reached down with one caramel hand, and pulled the arcanist to her feet, dusting Korriban's sand off Viscretus' dress in a gesture of caring - a rare gesture among Sith indeed. "As for Lord Xirr..." She unwound the rope from around Viscretus' waist, and with a wave of her hand the rope gained animation, tying itself into a lasso. She was no nerf herder, but she had seen how Catalyst himself had coiled the rope so, and the memory was at the forefront of her mind as her telekinetic power made her focus reality. The Force may not have been accessible in the pit, but... The lasso was flung into the pit and tightened, catching Xirr around the waist, and then Apollyon applied the fullness of her telekinetic power, the strength of a dozen men, to the end of the rope not in the pit, and pulled. It would have taken all Catalyst's and Apollyon's straining to use their physical strength, but size and mass mattered not to the power of the dark side, and Xirr was promptly if roughly yanked from the trap and deposited onto the sand. Despite not having used them at all beyond gesticulations that focused the Force, Apollyon mimed dusting her hands off, smug satisfaction suffusing her expression. "The Force is the great equaliser," Apollyon winked at Catalyst, and then pouted in mockery. "I'm sorry the lady didn't need your big strong muscles." The Emperor's Hand turned back towards the tomb, and the stele between them. Robyn had been foolish in violating Marcus' instructions, but she had paid the price of disturbing the Valley's sands in being ensnared; there was no need to rub salt in the wound. "Let us keep moving," Apollyon said, her instruction punctuated by a snap-hiss. She stabbed the lightsaber into the sand ahead of her as she cautiously, slowly walked towards the stele, exposing three more pits and skirting around them before arriving at the protruding slab of cool obsidian. Now that they were close, Viscretus would recognise the markings instantly; she had seen the same hieroglyphics in the grimoire she had infiltrated the Emperor's Inner Sanctum to translate.  "This stele looks too modern to have been built by the ancients," Apollyon murmured as she looked around the other side, discovering it was blank. "Likely built by the One Sith when they resealed Sadow's tomb, hence the High Galactic." She gestured at the column of letters next to the hieroglyphs, written in the High Galactic alphabet rather than Aurebesh, but Basic nonetheless. A translation, she suspected, of the pictogram beside it, which if so was fortunate, as the hieroglyphs belonged to an early form of the Sith language that was infamously indecipherable. "Nadfeeskamin..." Apollyon read. "The true builder of this tomb, perhaps?" Apollyon was not certain whether the stele was of any immediate significance, or whether they should move on to the sealed entrance of the tomb not ten feet away, which admittedly presented its own puzzle, since, at least from this distance, there seemed to be no visible way in. "Thoughts?" She posed the question to the entire team. TAG: Volshe dice Darth Catalyst Padawan4687
IC: Darth Dreadwar Sith Temple, Korriban The Emperor of the Sith strode forward, noting the intruders' silence at his prescient accusation. Of course, half of said silence could be attributed to the newfound if undoubtedly blissful unconsciousness of Scionica courtesy of Kevala, and as for Kevala herself... She perhaps understood that her survival hinged on not annoying the wraith stalking forward through the Temple's labyrinthine halls, and perhaps realised daring to squeeze air she didn't deserve to breathe through the easily-snapped filaments of her vocal chords while in the Emperor's presence was perilous indeed. Yet maintaining silence could be equally dangerous. "I just might stretch your silence to eternity," Darth Dreadwar whispered, "even as I stretch your broken body upon the rack." Any opportunity for a response was cut short as Dreadwar turned the corner... Revealing, not ten feet down the hallway, Darth Avaris and the newly arrived Jania Kio. Avaris' countenance grew, if possible, whiter still in spite of her paper-white skin, her lekku twitching in dismay. And then promptly fled, not keen on damaging her mind with repeat exposure to the Emperor, leaving Jania alone to quite unexpectedly face the Dark Lord of the Sith. Darth Dreadwar towered above her, an empty hood of pure darkness affixing the Acolyte under an invisible but no less pernicious gaze. "Acolyte," his voice was a terrible thing, a hollow, rasping hiss that echoed as if emanating from the depths of a tomb. Jania would recognise him instantly, of course; that visage of a dark spirit and accompanying eerie whisper was not uncommonly seen on the HoloNet. Indeed, she would vividly remember the day that frightful countenance had first appeared, hijacking every holosignal in the galaxy with its dread message of war, the planet of Denon being turned to ash in the same broadcast. The opening volley in a war that had won the resurgent Sith control over the entire Outer Rim. The door to a nearby chamber opened as if on its own accord, revealing an alchemical laboratory that doubled as a Tuk'ata pen, full of kennels of the vicious Sith hounds. "It appears your Massster has volunteered you to my ssservice," Dreadwar continued, cruel amusement warping that eldritch sibilance. "Lead these captives," his stygian gauntlets gestured carelessly behind him, at the completely unbound Kevala and the sister she carried on her shoulders, "to one of the empty kennels... Todaaay, child, you will be gaining the privilege of your Emperor's tutelage. I shall examine your performance... As you examine the finer shading of the blood I shall bid you ssspill, the notes of their sscreamsss you shall wrench from their throatsss." Torture. Despite having ripped all knowledge interrogation could possibly provide from Scionica's mind, Dreadwar's dark intent would be as clear to Kevala as the icy void that even her untrained senses would perceive as his presence. TAG: Shira @lordjania
IC: IsisOutside the Cathedral of Holy Jedi Spirits, OdessenAmidst swaying grass of gentle gold, Isis glided barefoot towards the landing pad of varnished wood, hands tucked in opposing voluminous sleeves. She was a tall, thin woman with rich ebon skin that contrasted with the pure white of her homespun robes, her shaven head concealed by a deep hood that tapered to an arcane point. Her brown eyes shone with the warmth of earth caught in the sun's light, and her aura in the Force was of an azure light so stark as to be almost blinding. She was the Shaman Magus - High Shaman, in modern Basic - of the Jedi Ordu Aspectu. The Grand Master. The one most blessed by the Force, that divine mother that gave life and light to the galaxy, that nurtured the infant, nourished the orphan and opposed all things foul and dark and imbalanced. A light so bright, the villagers of Odessen whispered behind her back every time she departed one of their towns after healing their sick, that even the Pyramid Fleet of Mnggal-Mnggal was afraid to dare enter the system. Isis came to a stop, surrounded by other Jedi Priors in robes of the same clear white, and looked up, watching the flock of Imperial shuttles descending through the azure skies of Odessen like a murder of crows. She frowned. There were two notable signatures approaching, she could sense, two powerful Force-sensitives exerting a pull on the aetheric field around them. In the one shuttle, Shira A'dola, not entirely refreshed despite her nap, and in another, Alisha Tano, who had, several minutes before, just witnessed the grisly consequences of her prior order. Rear Admiral Firmett had attempted to board the same shuttle, and fallen afoul of the bioscanner two Stormtroopers were holding in front of the landing ramp; one of the pair had managed to incinerate Firmett with his flamethrower just after the possessed Rear Admiral had ripped the other trooper's head off with his bare hands. As perturbing as the scene had been, Alisha was bathed in the colourful palette of Odessen's balanced aura as her shuttle sliced through the atmosphere, each lash of gold and azure washing over her with a sense of harmonious peace. And glaring brighter and brighter, the supernova of radiant light that was Isis. The shuttles landed on and around the landing pad, and Isis untucked her hands from her sleeves, walking slowly and deliberately towards the newcomers disembarking from the craft. "May the Force be with you," Isis smiled at Alisha and Shira. "And also with you," the Jedi Priors chorused around her in unconscious synchronicity, bowing towards Isis as she passed them, and then turning and nodding respectfully towards the Imperials. "Welcome to Odessen," Isis gestured behind her, at the arches and spires of the vast and ancient Jedi church, "and the Cathedral of the Holy Jedi Spirits. I am Isis, High Shaman of the Jedi Ordu Aspectu, Matron of Ashla, and Slayer of Darth Vua the Proud."
A thousand miles above, Kint Dranlor and Lemmy were locked in combat. In the nigh unnavigable knot of anomalous space that was the Unknown Regions, there were only three possible destinations for a hyperspace jump from Odessen, given the trajectory of the Durendal. The navicomputer completed its calculations, offering Kint Dranlor the three options. One was the uninhabited star system the Imperial fleet had just jumped in-system from. One was the planet of Terminus, a smuggler's world bordering known space that formed a gateway between the Unknown Regions and the greater galaxy. And lastly, the periphery of the Perann Nebula, which Kint would be able to see out his viewport as a scarlet veil of stellar gases pulsing with the nuclear energy of the Nihil Retreat, an interstellar cluster orbiting the galaxy within which, it was said, could be found the legendary wonders of Zakuul and the eternal abyss of the all-consuming Gunninga Gap. Three possible destinations, and perhaps not enough time to even activate the hyperdrive much less decide which to travel to, as Lemmy hurtled towards him at ramming speed.
Aboard the Triumphant , meanwhile, Hypnos found himself finally arriving at the engine bay. There were certainly many droids there, astromechs, repair droids, and... Protocol droids? Yes, protocol droids, two of dull grey and two that did not seem to be Imperial, but seemed to be of the exact same ancient make Hypnos had previously worn aboard the pyramid flagship. The presence of protocol droids implied- And there they were. A tangle of Imperial officers in animated chitchat with multiple Jedi Priors of the Ordu Aspectu, monks skilled in engineering and even lost arts resembling mechu deru, directing the repair droids through their respective protocol droids, repulsorlifts carrying in supplies, dozens of Stormtroopers and Imperial Knights standing guard as the delicate operation of repairing the primary hyperdrive got underway. TAG: Shira Padawan4687 Darth Catalyst gorzan possibly Volshe
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Post by Deleted on Jul 19, 2017 1:39:26 GMT -5
IC: Acolyte Jania Kio Jania had grown to enjoy the company of her new Master quite quickly as they made their way into the academy. Looking around as they walked through the first couple of halls she glanced at all the Sith decorations that lined them. All around her were flags and banners of the Sith as well as countless artifacts and propaganda to the Sith way. She felt a sense of commitment starting to fester in her as she knew this was her life now as well and she would have to become better than she's ever had before to survive. They turned down another hallway and in almost an instant she felt cold inside as if the grip of death itself surround her. It was then she noticed her Master stop in their tracks and gaze at a figure only a short distance away. Looking at the man herself she froze up for a second as if her body paralyzed and refused to either step forward or back. In this moment she saw her Master flee thus leaving Jania standing there with the figure. When the man began to step closer she felt as if she was suffocating. It took a moment for her to notice since she froze up that she also had stopped breathing. Hearing that she was volunteered to help the Emperor and the fact that this man was the Emperor shook her to her very core. She knew she wasn't prepared nor ready to meet the man who leads them all but now she was being thrusted into the spotlight. Finally regaining her mobility she bowed before looking over at the people accompanying him. They looked pitiful and just a scared as she was. When hearing her instructions her eyes widened as she had never killed someone before. Jania took a step back as she wanted to run the same as her Master but knew she'd probably be killed or worst if she did so. "Y...yes sir right aw...away. Th...thank you." She started fidgeting with her fingers before motioning for the captives to follow her inside the pens. She would have to do something to them or Jania knew it would happen to her. Tag: Shira @lordjania |
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Darth Catalyst
Citizen
Dark Lord Immortalis & High Inquisitor
.: Chaos and Cunning
Handling the Hand
Posts: 248
Likes: 276
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Post by Darth Catalyst on Jul 19, 2017 13:42:51 GMT -5
IC Lord Catalyst Outside Sadow's Tomb
As Apollyon yanked Xirr out of the hole, Catalyst resisted the urge to chuckle. Really he just was trying to play off the embarrassment that he hadn’t thought of that before she had. "I'm sorry the lady didn't need your big strong muscles," she cooed at him mockingly. All Catalyst could do was clap slowly before retrieving his rope from Xirr.
“Well done indeed, my Lady,” he praised, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Your strength is truly unmatched. It’s a good thing I didn’t leave you stuck in a hole too.” He finished coiling his rope and hid it away in the folds of his robes before patting Xirr on the back. “C’mon big guy. You still have many opportunities to best me but perhaps a verbal truce is in our mutual interest. Until we get back to the temple, that is.” He made a showy kissing noise garbled by his helm and followed Apollyon towards the ominous pillar of stone, leaping playfully over the pitfalls she was exposing. Upon reaching the stele and recognizing the High Galactic, Catalyst couldn’t help a sigh. More gibberish? Nadfeeskamin? What in the Force… He thought back to the vision he had seen earlier. Is it an anagram? Catalyst had little patience for riddles. He kicked the ground with his boot, clearly frustrated. “This is a waste of time,” he abruptly interjected while everyone else was seemingly thinking. “I say we go to the door.” He wasn’t sure if the Dark side was to blame for his current mental block, or just the rigors of the Valley taxing his mind. His mental prowess wasn’t in question, he was still able to continue verbally rebuking anyone foolish enough to challenge his wit. The truth behind the matter was that Catalyst was a fighter. The intricacies of physical and mental combat were little more than a dance to him, steps memorized and replayed in response to the actions of one’s partner. The effect was largely the same as well, as he was a graceful swordsman and a talented and cunning linguist. Sadly though his mind was not equipped with the finesse required to solve difficult puzzles such as the glyphs lined out before him. He would leave it for Viscretus and Apollyon and even Xirr and Robyn were they so inclined. His goal was inside, as far as he knew.
TAG: Darth Dreadwar ,Volshe ,Padawan4687 ,dice
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IC Lord Hypnos Triumphant Engine Room
Hypnos looked on in wonder at the scene before him. The droids were of little consequence, but the Ordu Aspectu caught him by surprise. Jedi? Here? This planet definitely held far more promise than his initial beliefs. Hypnos was keenly aware that any flagrant use of his powers would surely alert the newcomers to his presence. He would have to be far more cunning than before. He ducked his chassis into a shadowed hall and reached out with the Force, grabbing hold of the processor of the nearest astromech. Mechu Deru twisted its mind and overrode its controls. The little droid slowly wheeled itself away from the rest of the construction. Hypnos had directed it to the turbotrain station that had brought him there originally. He waited a few minutes to ensure the droid was not followed or monitored by any unwanted supervision before following it onto the turbotrain. There was nothing for him here except spare parts. For answers, Hypnos would have to travel to the planet itself. He would not sneak aboard one of the Triumphant’s shuttles. It would be far too easy for another Force user paying just a little too much attention to completely unravel his plans. No he had to go back to the start. The Kathol teleporter aboard the pod that had facilitated his entry to this ship would spell his freedom. He just hoped it was still there. He found an empty storage car on the turbotrain and directed the astromech in before following himself. The ride towards the hangar would be his best chance to transfer himself into this new body. He began urgently rearranging the astromech’s inner workings, making room for the crystal that it would soon host.
TAG: Darth Dreadwar ,
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Post by Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror on Jul 19, 2017 19:49:23 GMT -5
Name/Title: Carn Marr/Darth Coatlec Age: 20 Sex: Male Species: Nagai/Twilek Hybridwith Terinvoth DNA and nanotechnology infused with my blood Homeworld: Korriban Occupation: Sith Warrior/Assassin Height: 6'6" Appearance:  Weapons: Terinvoth lightsaber with living crystal bonded to me (main), Dual bladed Red lightsaber, Dual bladed Black lightsaber, lightsabers of Jedi I killed Equipment: Terror Trooper army Description of Abilities: master of telekinetic power and mental abilities Personality: Bold, headstrong, passionate, sometimes impatient Biography: Looking to create the ultimate Sith warrior, Darth Krayt dominated the minds of two of his apprentices, Darth Nihl and Darth Talon, to procreate with each other. Born Carn Marr, his father Darth Nihl trained him in the ways of the Dark Side until he became a Sith Lord of his own right. He was given the title of Darth Coatlec by his father. Nihl and Coatlec were abandoned by Talon as she never consented to the ordeal in the first place. Coatlec gathers knowledge and power from sources across the galaxy. He has undergone a transformation which infused terinvoth DNA and nanotechnology in order to further strengthen his connection to the Dark Side. This nanotechnology can regenerate him and heal any wound. Recently he has become a member of Emperor Dreadwar's Sith Empire, and has been reunited with his mother, Darth Talon. Level/Stats (for new players): Level 6 Sith Master |
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gorzan
Citizen
Posts: 93
Likes: 60
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Post by gorzan on Jul 20, 2017 0:10:20 GMT -5
IC: Kint Dranlor Location:Orbiting Odessen As the ship transmitted the codes, Kint activated his ion canons, and hit his vertical thrusters. As the other ship was attempting to ram him, it was carried directly underneath him and right into the path of the canons. They fired, both bottom mounted Ion canons opening up directly at Lemmy's ship point blank. He rotated the ship around, using its enhanced thrusters and maneuverability to do an immediate about face, spinning on a dime. "I've got you now," Kint said, a grim smile on his face. He squeezed the trigger, and his auto-targeting railgun fired, as well as his hydra missile pods. "Take the route to terminus, now!" It was a planet he had spent much time on, and he knew what to expect there. The ship shuddered, and launched into hyperspace. He sat back in his pilot chair. "well, that was unexpected." As the ship traveled, he walked back over to the cloak, and requested it to wrap around him. Then, using the force, he extracted the rakatan mind trap from its drawer, carried it into the room where Persevus lay unconscious and shackled, and touched it to his exposed neck. elu Darth Dreadwar @catalyst Attachments:
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Post by Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror on Jul 20, 2017 14:27:16 GMT -5
Name/Title: Darth Nihl
Age: mid 50s
Sex: Male
Species: Nagai
Homeworld: Nagi
Occupation: Sith Lord/former Hand of Darth Krayt
Height: 6'4"
Appearance: (see picture)
Weapons: Long-hilted single-bladed Red lightsaber
Equipment: Armor (see appearance)
Description of Abilities: Master of telekinetic abilities
Personality: Bold, headstrong, passionate
Biography: Nihl was once a warlord on his home planet of Nagi. He was found by the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Krayt. Nihl quickly rose through the ranks of the One Sith, becoming the Fist (leader of the military) and eventually ascending to the Hand of Darth Krayt in 130 ABY. Nihl had a son, Darth Coatlec, with fellow Hand, Darth Talon, whom he trained in the ways of the Dark Side. When Darth Krayt died in 138 ABY, Nihl rose to the rank of Dark Lord and commanded the remaining One Sith to spread across the galaxy where they could control everything through deception and cunning. Now, in 154 ABY, Nihl has resurfaced in Emperor Dreadwar's Sith Empire.
Level/Stats (for new players): Level 7 Sith Master
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Darth Catalyst
Citizen
Dark Lord Immortalis & High Inquisitor
.: Chaos and Cunning
Handling the Hand
Posts: 248
Likes: 276
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Post by Darth Catalyst on Jul 20, 2017 14:52:53 GMT -5
IC LEMMYIn Orbit Above OdessenThe blasts from the ion cannons splashed across the Dauntless’s shields as it sailed under the transport. Lemmy slammed his fist down on the console. Blasted smugglers and their hidden weaponry.. At least the Dauntless was designed to handle them. Anything short of a capital scale ion cannon would be filtered through ablative circuitry and discharged quickly. Lemmy cranked the ship around in time to see the other weapons training on him. He dialed his deflector shields to their maximum setting and flipped his targeting countermeasures on. The missile’s guidance system would experience interference and give Lemmy a chance at escaping a painful explosion. There was no dodging the railgun though. -WHUMP- The impact rocked the Dauntless and left a sizeable hole in its hull, mitigated somewhat by the shields. It did not leave Lemmy piloting a pile of debris as he was sure the other pilot wished. The missile was bearing down on him fast though. With the current damage disrupting his shields, he would be dead in space if that hit him. “Turd! Calculate a trajectory for that missile and get it out of my sky!” The droid made a series of inputs into his station and sent them to Lemmy’s targeting systems. Lemmy smiled as he angled his dorsal turret. He fired a series of powerful blasts. The missile exploded nearly in his face but just shy of doing any lasting damage. “Haha! Good job Turd!” Lemmy exclaimed. “Luxurious oil bath for you tonight! But first..” He watched the ship he was chasing dart into hyperspace along the route that he had come in on not a day earlier. “It looks like our new friend is going to Terminus.” A wicked smile broke out on his face and he twirled one of his lekku idly in his fingers. “Let’s make sure he has a greeting party eh?” Lemmy keyed in a comm number for a gang lord that wasn’t out for his head. The viewscreen above him flared to life with the image of a little grey froglike alien. “Aah Binx!” Lemmy bellowed, “My favorite doctor/crime boss! Tell me, how’s that wookiee whose arms you tore off faring?” “He has made an exceptionally expedient recovery with no loss of ambulatory coordination,” the Dazouri rattled off. “What do you want Lem? You never call me for small talk.” “I’ve been chasing a smuggler in the Odessen system,” Lemmy said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. “He got away. Looks like he’s headed for Terminus. I don’t know what the guy looks like; he didn’t turn on a visual comm, but I have specs for his ship.” He sent the identification code that the ship had used earlier. “It’s a V2P7 Falcon Cargo Freighter, heavily upgraded, weapons out the ass. Pilot is good. Too good to be normal. He ran pretty damn fast so he’s gotta have something of value on there too.” “Well what are you proposing old friend?” Binx asked inquisitively. “Was the big, bad smuggler too much for Lemmy to best?” “I’d tear you in half if I knew you wouldn’t beat me to a pulp for trying,” Lemmy started with a smirk. “I will however pay you handsomely to never speak of this and I’ll pay even more for this guy’s head.” Binx’s eyes went wide. “Are you suggesting putting out a bounty?” “You’re damn right I am.” Lemmy said stoically. “Five hundred thousand. Alive.” Binx stared at him with exasperation. “You don’t know anything about this man. What makes you think anyone is going to find him?” “I just need a name. Consequently,” Lemmy replied wryly. “do you know anyone looking for Jedi relics?” “What does that have to do wit- Ooh…” Binx paused and thought for a second. “Well the Federation is pretty strict on the transport of artifacts. I doubt he’s headed to a museum with the armaments you described. My contact on Korriban died a long time ago. At least I think he did. I know there’s a sizeable want for Force imbued items among the Sith that are holed up there. Probably your best bet.” “You’re a doll Binx,” Lemmy winked at him. “I’m headed to Terminus myself for some repairs. What do you say to an arm wrestling match when I get there?” Binx shook his head. “You know I’ll remove it if you try. I’ll put some feelers out and contact you if I see this ship. Binx out.” Lemmy pulled up the last set of coordinates from his nav computer and engaged the hyperdrive. They had a while before Terminus. “Turd!” He called, “Get the DUM online. He’s got his work cut out for him this time.” He stepped out from his station and headed back to the galley. Space battles always left him feeling hungry. TAG: Darth Dreadwar , elu , gorzan
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Shira
Administrator
.: Empress' Hand
Posts: 135
Likes: 114
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Post by Shira on Jul 20, 2017 20:22:57 GMT -5
IC: Kevala
Sith Temple, Korriban
"I just might stretch your silence to eternity, even as I stretch your broken body upon the rack."
Kevala started at the insidious whisper. She had, of course, spent most of her communication in mental contact with Scionica, with the sole exception of attempting to explain their situation to the Dread-Lord. In her exhausted reverie, she had forgotten and was now left scrambling to find something to say. In a situation such as this, what could one say?
Her problem was blissfully and unexpectedly solved as they turned the corner to find two individuals conversing in the hall. Kevala merely shook her head in disbelief as the Twi’lek darted away. Was this what passed as the dreaded Sith of Korriban? It was pathetic. The presence of the Emperor of the Sith was undeniable and terrifying, to be sure, but if no one even attempted to counter that fear, how did anyone expect to survive on this planet?
"Lead these captives to one of the empty kennels... Todaaay, child, you will be gaining the privilege of your Emperor's tutelage. I shall examine your performance... As you examine the finer shading of the blood I shall bid you ssspill, the notes of their sscreamsss you shall wrench from their throatsss."
Laughter nearly bubbled from Kevala’s lips as the girl blanched. Force, this place was strange. This girl was an obvious apprentice by her body language and seemed to be quite young. She was confident it would take minimal effort to best her in a very short skirmish, and she even suspected that the wraith would allow her to. She felt a nudge in her mind, however, that urged her to stay, to see how this affair played out. Kevala had nothing better to do at the moment and it would be cumbersome to try to escape the Sith stronghold with Scionica still unconscious.
Scionica...a thread of concern and worry crept back into her thoughts. She didn’t know how permanent this damage was and to lose her sister...
Kevala shoved the worries aside and buried them deep; she could not afford to think like this, not as she was in the midst of what was the most dangerous of circumstances. So she walked into the empty kennel and gently laid her sister in a corner. Arms danced lithely above her head in a long, luxurious stretch and she systematically removed her gear. Cowl came off, her long, onyx braid flowing down her back. Coloured eye-lenses were placed carefully in their container, revealing her ice-white eyes and her bags were carefully deposited in the corner next to her twin. Rolling her shoulders loosely, she tilted her head slightly and smirked at the woman supposedly in charge of the coming torture.
“Come, child. Do your worst.”
TAG: Darth Dreadwar, @lordjania
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Shira
Administrator
.: Empress' Hand
Posts: 135
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Post by Shira on Jul 23, 2017 18:10:31 GMT -5
IC: Shira A’dolaOdessonSlim fingers rubbed hard against pale grey eyes, a deep sigh escaping downturned lips. Could anything else go wrong? Her nightmare still resonated deeply, tugging threads of anxiety in Shira’s mind and the loss of Firmett had affected her deeply. He had been a good man, taking pride in the Empire and had been supremely loyal. She had enjoyed working with him and that the residue of blackness had taken over his mind upset her intensely. Waves of azure and bright gold washed over her mental senses and an aura of peace permeated the energy around her. The sigh of depression turned to one of relief, but not even this could entirely wipe away her tense unease and exhaustion. Long nails pinched the sensitive skin inside her wrist, the pain cutting sharply through the mental fog. Get it together, Shira! You can’t afford to be this unhinged right now!She parked her shuttle approximately thirty feet away from the small group that had gathered. Chief among them was a figure bathed in the Light of the Force. It was rare that Shira met one so strong in the Light. None of the Jedi in Coruscant had such a bright glow. The Sith were cloaked in shadow and the Febrayasi shone with a much more metallic light, akin to silver. This woman was a rare individual indeed. Shira wrapped the Living Force around her, a natural aid to the stim she had applied on The Triumphant and stepped out of her shuttle, joining with Alisha and walking towards the gathered Force users. "May the Force be with you." “And also with you.” "Welcome to Odessen," Isis gestured behind her, at the arches and spires of the vast and ancient Jedi church, "and the Cathedral of the Holy Jedi Spirits. I am Isis, High Shaman of the Jedi Ordu Aspectu, Matron of Ashla, and Slayer of Darth Vua the Proud." Shira returned the smile and bowed. “May the Force be with you also. Many, many thanks to you and your people, High Shaman. Our enemy has hunted us for months on end. We doubted our survival and would surely have perished if not for your aid. Please, if there is anything we can do for you during our stay, do not hesitate to ask. We owe you and your people our lives. I am Shira A’dola, Empress Hand and Leader of those who remain loyal to the New Galactic Empire in the absence of Empress Volshe. I am Grand Master of the Febrayasi, taught under the Great Sage of Dwartii, Sistros. This is Alisha Tano, my pupil and second-in-command, the Empress Sword.”TAG: Padawan4687, Darth Dreadwar
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dice
Citizen
Posts: 84
Likes: 65
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Post by dice on Jul 23, 2017 18:59:45 GMT -5
IC: Darth XirrStuck in a pitXirr looked up from his confines within the cracking sandstone of the pit. He could see the shadows of his fellow sith up above as each of them were removed from their respective pits by Catalyst, one by one. Catalyst had left him for last as one last jab to Xirr before they ended their bout of verbal sparring for the time being. He called up from the pit, his raspy mechanical voice echoing off of the walls as it traveled to the ears of the four sith who were, more fortunately than himself, above ground. "If you all are finished with your little fam- Ahhh!" Before he could finish his sentence, he was suddenly entwined by the same rope that Catalyst had denied him earlier, and abruptly yanked out of the pit, landing on the sand above. "I'm sorry the lady didn't need your big strong muscles" Cooed a very smug looking Appolyon. Xirr craned his neck back and stood up, stretching as he spoke again "I, ahh, Thank you, for the assistance, Appolyon. Though the situation was very much, ah, under control." He chuckled "These 'Big strong muscles' aren't only for aesthetics, you know." Xirr mocked, as he returned to a normal stance from his stretch. Then came Catalyst... “C’mon big guy. You still have many opportunities to best me but perhaps a verbal truce is in our mutual interest. Until we get back to the temple, that is.” He said before making a... kissing noise? Towards Xirr, a strange gesture indeed, he thought, especially since it was difficult to understand the true meaning of the sound, Xirr simply brushed it off as one of Catalyst's may eccentricities. "I believe you may be correct, Catalyst, though do be wary, I will take full advantage of any opportunity to best you otherwise!" Xirr chuckled "Shall we?" He gestured after Appolyon, who was headed towards the pillar of carved obsidian that blocked their way into the tomb, exposing several more pit traps in her wake. Xirr took up a light jog, following after Appolyon, careful to follow precisely where she had left bootprints in the sand. Upon arriving in front of the pillar with the rest of the group, Xirr sighed. His intellect was nothing to scoff at, but by no means was he one of the greatest, even beaten by leaps and bounds by some of the sith standing not three feet from him. He, like Catalyst was much more comfortable with a blade in his hand, not a tome, practicing footwork in one of the many great stone training halls that lie within the Academy, not translating ancient texts in the library, Xirr was of no help here. Xirr was even less prepared to take on this challenge due to his lack of... expertise, with ancient languages. Xirr made a realization quickly, however. He may be of use yet, then another realization came... " Damn..." He cursed under his breath. Likely the single time his... affliction, would be useful on this adventure: The voices were silent. "I... agree with Catalyst. This is perhaps a Diversion?" TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Darth Catalyst, Padawan4687, Volshe,
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Padawan4687
Imperial Intelligence
.: Empress' Sword / Director of Intelligence
Posts: 133
Likes: 112
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Post by Padawan4687 on Jul 24, 2017 0:14:28 GMT -5
IC: Alisha TanoLocation: Odesson After stealing another long nap beside Xal'den's bed, Alisha opened her eyes and found herself in it. I don't remember standing up... and it's his bed! She only had to glance up at the sleepy grin resting against her forehead to guess how that happened. While resisting a flustered sigh, Alisha quietly sat up and managed to pull herself away from him and the bed. "Hmmm... leaving already?"Alisha paused before turning around with a smile, "I'm afraid so... I just wish I could get out of this Imperial uniform.""...and into something more comfortable?" Xal asked, evidently still sleepy. "No!" Alisha continued quickly, already feeling her face heat up, "I will be meeting Jedi in a few minutes, I have to look the part!" She nearly bounced from foot to foot, muttering, "I haven't felt this excited and terrified in ages..." suddenly pausing again, extending an accusatory finger Xal'den's way. "Don't you dare-!"He quietly laughed and held up both hands with the palms out, "I wasn't going to say a thing, darling." His expression softened before continuing with, "Only, why terrified?"Alisha lightly bit her lip before attempting to answer. "They're Jedi...ancient Jedi. For the past four years, I only knew the ones here. And before I met the late Empress, I thought I was the only one left... I have no idea how I'll be received!""Well... I guess there's only one way you'll find out." Xal'den sent a smile her way, before waving. "Make sure you tell me how it goes, I want every last detail!"A short while later Alisha was set within a shuttle descending for the surface of Odesson, trying hard to keep a grasp on her breathing. She still could hardly believe her uniform managed to avoid getting splattered with blood or scorched after the bioscan was completed on Admiral Firmett... she quietly decided to block out the past few minutes, file it away like the rest of the past month until safety could properly be assured. She instead, shut her eyes and let the ocean of auras wash over her. With every "wave" she passed over, Alisha could feel her heart rate and breathing start to settle. This was a sensation she hadn't felt since her time with the Guardians of Light and painfully missed: complete peace. Excitement grew to replace her fear and apprehension, just enough to push it to the back of her mind. From the moment she set foot on the surface of Odesson, Alisha's attention was completely fixed on the individuals slowly approaching the ship. In particular the one in front, who's blazing aura was striking a slight nerve... the last Jedi she'd encountered with a power anything like this disappeared from the very Order he'd been responsible for. But still, she was one. She was still taking in the ghostly white robes, and the contrast between the leading woman's clothes and skin, when she started speaking. "May the Force be with you." The Jedi behind her chorused in perfect, nearly mechanical unison, “And also with you.” "Welcome to Odessen," Isis gestured behind her, at the arches and spires of the vast and ancient Jedi church, "and the Cathedral of the Holy Jedi Spirits. I am Isis, High Shaman of the Jedi Ordu Aspectu, Matron of Ashla, and Slayer of Darth Vua the Proud." Shira returned the smile and bowed. “May the Force be with you also. Many, many thanks to you and your people, High Shaman. Our enemy has hunted us for months on end. We doubted our survival and would surely have perished if not for your aid. Please, if there is anything we can do for you during our stay, do not hesitate to ask. We owe you and your people our lives. I am Shira A’dola, Empress Hand and Leader of those who remain loyal to the New Galactic Empire in the absence of Empress Volshe. I am Grand Master of the Febrayasi, taught under the Great Sage of Dwartii, Sistros. This is Alisha Tano, my pupil and second-in-command, the Empress Sword.”Alisha dropped in a low bow herself before returning a grateful smile of her own. "It is both an honor, and a privilege to meet you, High Shaman." She looked down at her hands briefly, hoping she wasn't sounding strange. "I... I never expected to encounter another sect of Jedi, especially this far out into the Unknown Regions."TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Shira,
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Jul 26, 2017 3:30:48 GMT -5
COMBO WITH VOLSHE
IC: Darth Apollyon and Darth ViscretusOutside the tomb of Naga Sadow, Upper Valley, Korriban
The Shadowed Tomb theme Apollyon frowned at the stele, her gaze lingering on the slab of cool, dark rock. Neither Viscretus nor Robyn had conferred any insight, leaving only Catalyst's dismissal in the dust-laden air, seconded by Xirr no less. It was intuitive that the stele provided some sort of translation; the hieroglyphs of two different avian species meant the Basic letters esk and mern, the zig-zag line was nern. Yet other than a trailing thought that Nadfeeskamin might relate to Freedon Nadd somehow, Apollyon did not see how the translation offered anything. She suspected it was just an ancient Sith word spelled in High Galactic, perhaps a warning or curse to keep tomb robbers out. And so, if reluctantly, Apollyon nodded. "Agreed," she replied, shivering, to the Sith Lords' shared suggestion, dark leather lappets flapping in a stiffening wind as she turned from the monument towards the tomb entrance. She took the same precautions in her approach to the tomb as she had to the stele, revealing, thankfully, no more traps, and shortly she was standing before a half-buried statue of Naga Sadow himself, his jowels lengthened into tendrils of stone, his unseeing eyes glowering down at her. Apollyon knew enough of Sith necropolitan architecture that the entrance to tombs tended to be found in the chests of such statues, cutting into the rock of the Valley's cliff from which the facade of Sadow was carved, yet the entrance appeared to be sealed with a slab of rock. No lever. No mechanism. No obvious way to get in. And then Viscretus approached, beside her. And faint markings Apollyon had dismissed as scratches left by construction mishaps began to shine, ever so slightly, with a curious violet light. Visions stirred in the abyssal depths of Viscretus' subconscious, images of a bygone era that seemed to be seared into her neurons with sulphuric power as she breathed in the dust animated by the wind, her eyes transfixed on the glyphs that seemed to hook her mind and reel it in deeper and deeper. A vision of a chamber of large, misshapen stones, torches and braziers lighting the room with a gentle, warm glow. Dusty tomes. A table of varnished japor. A queen in her castle, a witch in her tower. And glinting the same gold as a twisted mirror above a lit hearth, the tall, armoured form of a brooding man with cruel, disdainful features. Viscretus would recognise him from her prior vision, when the Emperor had violated her mind. Ku'ar Danar. Darth Dreadwar, when he was yet a being of flesh and blood. "Nay, nay," his voice was reverberating, addressing the woman in the blurred visage of a chamber. "We shalt needeth moo smokestone. The geometry of the obelisk wilt align with the leyline of Mortis, the capstone angled towards Korriban's position at midnight on the winter solstice. The Vahla hath not mined enow for us to maketh the optimal cameranious focus." "Then mine calculations art verily correct," she replied with a voice of accented velvet. She proceeded to a faint glow of light at the far wall, features obscured by the glimmering aberrations of the vision's edges. "For Mortis' alignment wilt shift this solstice. They hath thus mined in excess." Her hand rose, and as it did so, a parchment held in her hand unrolled. The scrawls upon it were indecipherable through the lens of vision. "Behold hither, for thyself." The parchment was torn from the woman's grasp, summoned by Danar's command of the Force. His grey eyes flicked over the writing. "Thy prescience shalt certes beest tried," he returned. He glanced up at her, eyes narrowed, one hand dropping the parchment to the table, the other retrieving a rod of obsidian from near the lit hearth. Danar looked in the golden mirror above the mantelpiece, examining his features as he idly continued. "Mine Darkstaff doth servest as miniature facsimile of obelisk and monolith. If it be true thy calculations art wrong, our experiment with the beetles on the morrow wilt bewray 't so. Betwixt this and the Levithans' blisters, we shalt need acquireth the relevant information, for if 't be true the rite draws power wrongly, the obelisk wilt crack... and thou withest it, Vahl." "And how," she turned, opal eyes aglow with flickering fire, striding towards him and pointing to the sketched planets still in his hand, a finger tracing along the various hypotenuses and their obsessively calculated angles, "wilt thou test such without the essential leylines illustrated hither?" "I draweth upon weaker leylines," Danar replied, "from Syngia to Malachor. Nor is such perfectionism behoveful; in its crudest form, I believeth life force the only requirement." Danar turned from the mirror, placing a ruby-red jewel atop the staff he held. "The Heart of Graush is a proof of concept. The spirits of thousands of those Sith barbarians, snared in Force-comptible crystal, granting mine vassal a corse untouched by time's passage. Yet... all too easily felled by mine assassins. We must englut moo, to shed flesh entirely." The voice began to fade, the vision darkening. And with a blink, Viscretus was once again facing the sealed entrance of the tomb, Apollyon looking at her in some concern. Yet only a handful of seconds had passed, and Apollyon's concern was more piqued by Viscretus suddenly freezing up than any lengthy silence on her friend's part. A vision, perhaps?Ah, no matter. She could ask Viscretus about it later; the hieroglyphs themselves were more important. Apollyon glanced away from Viscretus, analysing the markings as she crouched down. "What do we think, friends?" She cocked her head, absently addressing the team behind her, before standing and moving aside, letting them see the inscription for themselves.
 "This must be how we get into the tomb, someh..." Apollyon's voice faded. Her movement aside allowed her to see a darkening shadow on the horizon, heralded by the strengthening gust of cold wind. A sandstorm, rising from the Lower Valley. She felt a droplet of water upon her bare arm - no... It was a droplet of white fluid, carried by the oncoming gale, smelling of sweet flowers. Yet the Force painted a darker picture; there was a growing sense of danger, and the towering cloud of sand was only part of it. And even the might of Sith Lords could not stand against the elements unleashed. "And we're going to have to figure it out fast," Apollyon hissed urgently.
TAG: Darth Catalyst Padawan4687 Volshe dice
IC: Darth BlightLower Valley, KorribanTen kilometers away and nearly a kilometer down from where Apollyon and her team were confounded, Darth Blight was barely standing upright. The death mask she wore was of Yuuzhan Vong origin, a living creature whose tendrils extended through her nostrils to her brain itself, sharing its heightened sensory input. Ordinarily, this was beneficial; today, this meant she could feel the sting of every grain of sand tenfold, as she battled through the sandstorm alongside Darth Nihl.  They had been sent to investigate a disturbance in the Lower Valley of the Dark Lords by the Emperor himself, Darth Dreadwar evidently not entrusting such a task to any other servant besides one so powerful and faithful as Nihl, which spoke volumes to Blight about how significant this disturbance was. Fear of failure fuelled her power, as she poured every scrap of will into a telekinetic bubble to ward off the elements' assault. They had been caught in this sandstorm for several minutes, powering onward to the source of the disturbance, and finally their resolve paid off as they broke through, emerging into a clear and calmer area of the Lower Valley in front of a vast mausoleum that could only be the Sanctum of Sakkra-Kla.
 But they were not here for the tomb. They were here for the metal egg lying in front of its steps, as tall as a one-story building and emanating powerful gusts from its sparking engines that had whipped the sand into a frenzy. The egg-shaped craft was cracked, and a strange white fluid was trickling from its interior onto the sands. Dreadwar had not explained how he knew it was there; he had simply told them what to look out for, and told them to make sure the egg was empty... and to destroy it and its contents if not. "There it is, Lord Nihl," Blight's voice was a bubbling, oozing thing, as if her vocal chords had been softened to feeble strands of malleable putty, her lungs clogged with blood and nanotechnological detritus. One never quite got used to it. "What the kark do you think it is?" Blight was hanging back, fiddling nervously with small controls on her skintight bodysuit, not daring to approach the unidentified object any further. "And what do we do with it?" TAG: Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror
IC: Darth DreadwarTuk'ata pen, Sith Temple, KorribanDarth Dreadwar watched Jania Kio lead the captive twins into the Tuk'ata pen impassively, a withering gaze of invisible darkness affixing itself upon the fresh Acolyte's back. A flicker of power, and Kio's legs would find themselves stiffening, preventing her from approaching the kennel. "Your Majesssty," Dreadwar rebuked her, "would be the correct form of addresss." The Sith Emperor was not one particularly prone to etiquette observance, but the acolyte had to learn to address her betters properly; the more hot-tempered Lords would have taken her head for calling them 'sir,' a title more fit for mere Sith Knights. He released his hold on her, letting her continue to the kennel that Kevala quite graciously entered without resistance. But of course, that was entirely Dreadwar's expectation. He had gleaned much from his perusal of Scionica's mind, and the fact the assassins were prideful to the point of painful was evident. He had intentionally not restrained them, as if inviting Kevala to do the obvious, and attempt escape; he had presented her with a teenaged girl she would feel confident she could best in combat, as if inviting her to resist. And thus, playing upon her pride, his little bit of reverse psychology ensured she peacefully walked straight into her assigned fate of torture... "Come, child," Kevala said, tilting her chin. "Do your worst." ...indeed daring the child to begin, as if Kevala was stripping away the ignobility of her circumstances along with her gear. All too easy. All too predictable. And yet, Dreadwar could respect her defiance, however irrational. It spoke to a strength of will suited for a Sith. And ultimately, ascertaining the worth of both Kevala and Kio was what this test was about. "Dread," the Emperor whispered in response, looming closer to the kennel. "I am not aping you. That... is a suggestion." His empty cowl turned towards the Acolyte. "Sssee how she fears you not, child? Your obviouss hesitation at my instructionss is responsible for that; if you had played the role of a psychotic fiend eager to sspill blood, the outcome would be different. Already potential for psychological torture, through intimidation and fear, is dwindling. Consider, in the future, to inculcate an aura of terror in all your dealings." The Emperor interlocked his stygian gauntlets behind his back, pacing around the kennel as he offered his macabre lesson. "You will thus need help, to offset your misstake." His finger twitched, and a tarp was pulled off another kennel, behind the bars of which stood Darth Coatlec. The offspring of Talon had been sentenced to a week of torture for uttering the phrase 'one level higher;' Talon had claimed such imitation of the Emperor's condescension entailed blasphemy, yet in truth had likely been looking for an excuse to punish the child she had never wanted. Of course, even knowing of her true motivations, Dreadwar had been all too happy to let the Temple's Inquisitors test the limits of Coatlec's nanotechnologically-mediated regeneration. "Cooaatleec," the Emperor hissed, the barred door of the cage swinging open. "Assist Kio creatively in the torture of these asssassinssss," he gestured at the sisters, one conscious, one unconscious, in the other kennel, "and consider yourself the beneficiary of an early release." How long will you hold out, I wonder, Kevala? Dreadwar thought to himself. How long before the pain becomes so great, that you eagerly accept my offer of releasing you... if you kill your sister...?
TAG: @lordjania Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror Shira
COMBO WITH ELU
IC: Darth PersevusHolding cell, the Durendal He awoke to the slight stirring in the air through his hair. The feeling of the cool metal ground of the hold upon his body, the soreness of his body unperturbed by the sensation of armor and clothing upon him. A personal 'freedom' he hadn't felt since… Persevus' eyes snapped open. With a groan he couldn't help escaping his lips, he shifted upwards. and allowed his gaze to blearily sweep over the cage he was in and the room it was a part of. A ship's hold without a doubt. And it was his true gaze, bereft of his mask. Bereft of anything evidently. His look down at himself confirmed that. There was a…tarp, thing, floating around nearby that he had trouble comprehending as well, but that wasn't his main issue right now. His problem was that he was in a cell for the second time that day, unplanned, and that he was devoid of all his relics. All of them. ….The rage that began to boil up immediately felt wholly dull and uninspired. It took him a few seconds to piece it together, his sluggish mind slowly putting two and two together. He couldn't wield the Force. He was being blocked from it. Again.It was only the logical thing to do against him, yet the very audacity of it angered him to no end. Yet he spotted no ysalamiri or anything else necessary to pull of such a stunt. His teeth gritted against each other. No longer amused at the oddity, as short of a time as that had been anyway, his eyes found the tarp thing again. It almost felt like it was watching him. If not, it soon would. Moving up to the cell bars, like some useless fool, he called out to it. "You. Guardian." He had no idea what else to call it or what it really was, given circumstances. "Why am I here? And how am I deprived of the Force? Where are the ysalamiri?" As he questioned, his mind flashed through the visions he had been sent back on Odessen. The visions, so ill timed…. Gorzan. It was the only obvious reason for any of this. But one step at a time. He'd even have to ignore the alarm klaxon going off and threatening to give him a headache. "How should I know why you are here?" The tarp's crease flapped disconcertingly in a facsimile of speech. "And what is this Force you speak of?" Persevus could only stare at it for a beat longer than he meant to. This was a nightmare. An unadulterated nightmare. With a sigh of frustration, he stood shakily to his feet while holding onto the bars for support, his body regaining itself again while becoming oriented to the numbness of No Force. "Did your Master or Partner not bring me here? And the Force is a mystical energy field, I'm sure you've seen it displayed if nothing else. If it is Kint who threw me in here…" His eyes flashed. "Is it?" The tarp floated, still, rippling as if caught in a high wind. And then slowly, steadily, its harsh fabric folded in a semi-circle that spread across its surface. An awful smile. "Yes, it is," the tarp flapped. It folded in on itself, squeezing between the bars and rearranging itself before Persevus, hovering menacingly. It did not know of the Force. It did not know much of human physiology, not enough to be surprised at how quickly Persevus had woken, when Kint had just dosed him with toxins again. Persevus was an incredibly powerful Force-sensitive; just because his connection was suppressed, now, did not mean decades, perhaps centuries of passive augmentation were negated. Persevus, physically, was beyond humanoid conventions of healthy; Kint should have dosed him with enough toxin to sedate a rancor, enough toxin to kill any ordinary man. But the tarp knew none of this. The tarp only knew that Kint, so soon after pledging faithfulness, had run off to the cockpit and abandoned it, proving once and for all the Masarian mercenary was a selfish schutta who did not and never would care about the tarp as anything more than a musty old tool. "Do you want to kill him?" The eldritch tarp hissed in gleeful query. "I just tried... And failed... He is too strong for me. But I could help you." Backing up as the tarp entered his cell and spoke to him in its strange manner, the Sith Lord listened carefully. And a touch dubiously at the whole ridiculous exchange. But when that's what the Force handed you, that's what you dealt with. "Help me?" he mused with a touch of surprise in his voice. This…tarp…clearly already had garnered an interesting history with the man it served. And since it was indeed, Kint, he had some ideas as to what was going on. A mercenary who showed an assortment of tools and cleverness of physics and chemistry to get things done outside of Force techniques. He had No Force, but there was nothing obviously keeping him from it in the vicinity. There were only two possible explanations. Either he had used a specific Force Suppression ability, which was possible, but just didn't…fit. Or he used some kind of drug to suppress him biologically. And that fit with what little Persevus had observed the man. A purging of the body was in swift order. He could not overtly tap into the Force, but he had been at this a long time, there was always a whisper deep within. If he had to use all of it to purge whatever he had been given faster, then that was what he would do. Meanwhile, his mind raced at the very existence of this eldritch material before him. There was only one explanation for that one. But he needed further confirmation. And a decision of the proposal presented to him, one that even without the Force he could feel the eagerness in the thing's 'voice.' "Oh, yes. Kill him. I was amid visions when he knocked me unconscious earlier. He would never have gotten to me otherwise, as I had sensed him the whole time," he scowled, "If I can reconnect with the Force and get my power back, he'll be like a candle snuffed out in the wind." He held his hand out, "I'm not sure if you know of handshakes. But this is how we agree to a partnership then, hm? Aid me and I will reward you with anything you desire," a pause, "Do you have a name?" If only he had his power, perhaps he could drudge up something, and he could see the history of the tarp with Gorzan and get a clearer picture. But that was unlikely currently. As soon as the deal was sealed, he looked toward the entrance of the room. "I need my gear back. All my relics. Armor, cloaks, all of it. And if there's a mirror stashed somewhere….I hope he kept them far apart. Otherwise his death will be gruesome indeed." Mentally he frowned. The mirror. If it was onboard and his stuff were in line of it, that would be very bad indeed. That would make solving it of insurmountable importance. Could the tarp, whose existence he suspected due to the mirror, be of use in this puzzle? The pieces slowly clicked into place as he waited a reply. Yet the tarp did not reply. It felt, as if connected to its owner, the tug of Kint Dranlor, just as the cell lurched beneath them both. The Durendal had entered hyperspace. The tarp floated away, enveloping itself around Kint as the Masarian bade, rendering him invisible as he entered the hold to retrieve the Rakatan Mind Trap. A Mind Trap that had, like the other artifacts, been caught in the field of the Mirror's reflection. Kint was cautious enough to telekinetically handle the Trap rather than physically, but the tarp did not think Kint understood what perils he was facing. Indeed, just as the tarp readied to treacherously slide off Kint, Dranlor backed out of the hold, thus negating the tarp's plan of leaving the mercenary exposed to the Mirror. It did, however, leave him exposed to Persevus, as he reentered the cell. He was no doubt expecting an unconscious prisoner. Instead, Persevus had been waiting in the cell, quite awake. His eyes locked onto Kint the moment he appeared. At first, the resolve to say nothing seemed clear to him, indeed he acted wholly unconcerned about his awakening. So he only stared back at him. The Rakatan Mind Trap being floated his way casually, made him scowl further and back away from the bar, dodging as necessary. Without the Force and in a confined space, he wouldn't be able to do much for long, but he would resist as much as possible for as long as he could. Yet it was not enough. The Rakatan Mind Trap touched Persevus' cranium, and the glyphs on its side flared... azure, rather than the crimson it had glowed before. The opposite colour. And suddenly, the drugs were purged from Persevus' system, bars and restraints evaporating into thin air as if they had never existed. Persevus would feel his mind unspool into the Force once again, his perceptions spreading throughout the ship, his power restored. He was free. For the Rakatan Mind Trap had been inverted by the Mirror, and was no longer a snare, but salvation. The tarp hung in midair, watching Kint Dranlor and Darth Persevus, its fabric creasing in disconcerting laughter. TAG: elu , gorzan
IC: IsisLanding platform, Odessen“May the Force be with you also," the newcomer responded, bowing. Not entirely human, Isis was quite sure; perhaps an offshoot of some colony she had not heard of, or a near-human species demonstrating convergent evolution. "Many, many thanks to you and your people, High Shaman. Our enemy has hunted us for months on end. We doubted our survival and would surely have perished if not for your aid. Please, if there is anything we can do for you during our stay, do not hesitate to ask. We owe you and your people our lives. I am Shira A’dola, Empress' Hand and Leader of those who remain loyal to the New Galactic Empire in the absence of Empress Volshe. I am Grand Master of the Febrayasi, taught under the Great Sage of Dwartii, Sistros. This is Alisha Tano, my pupil and second-in-command, the Empress' Sword.” "It is both an honor, and a privilege to meet you, High Shaman," Tano added, offering a bow herself. "I... I never expected to encounter another sect of Jedi, especially this far out into the Unknown Regions." Isis remained silent for a moment, a frown creasing her luscious dark lips. "There are no thanks required, Shira A'dola," she returned, steepling her hands. "We do as the Force wills. The enemy that hunts you is known to us. Yet they dare not be bathed in the light of Odessen. The refugees here are safe, from such pestilent servants of darkness." Isis beckoned as she turned towards the Cathedral, beginning to lead the procession down the earthen path. "I have heard of the Febrayasi also," she said, more shortly. "And I find it a surprise, Alisha Tano, that you say another sect of Jedi. You think of yourself as Jedi, still? Your auras are both muted to me, tainted by the dark side... you especially, Tano. You are far from the true path of the light side, I fear, and I only hope you can be redeemed here, among Jedi." It was unclear whether Isis was referring to Shira and Alisha being sullied somehow by the void in the Force they had recently encountered, or whether she was observing how the Febrayasi and Jedi turned Imperial Knight were both, essentially, grey. TAG: Shira Padawan4687
IC: DS-794Guarding the drop-pod, Triumphant hangar"Did you hear about the new Dreadwar collectible?" DS-794 broke the silence, addressing his fellow Stormtrooper. They were both standing guard outside what could generously be described as a boarding ramp, which was merely one-third of the drop-pod's egg-shaped carapace unfolded onto the hangar deck, heavy repeating blaster cannons held in their hands. Engineers and tech crewmen were hooking up cables to the drop-pod's shell, bustling around them quietly and studiously, studying the vessel. "Hear about it?" JK-234 replied. "I damn flew over to the Accuser the other day and bought it at the emporium! It has a G-8 droid brain, it can respond intelligently to you... it's not just an action figure, it's a robopet, man." DS-794 quirked a smile, imagining using the figure in the tabletop role-playing game they had scheduled for next week aboard the Reclaimer. He was about to respond, but noticed a turbotrain was returning to the hangar terminal. They were far from the only Stormtroopers in the hangar; an entire squadron was several meters away, mercifully out of earshot, along with a group of uniformed officers and Imperial Knights, more than enough in number to overpower any lone Force-user. Yet the Knights and officers were all distracted, engaged in hushed conversations about the drop-pod. DS-794 relaxed as he saw only a single astromech aboard the train. "Yeah, it's pretty awesome," he said. "I'm actually going to be playing Dreadwar in next week's game. I have a plot scenario involving assassinating old-hissy-sissy." TAG: Darth Catalyst
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Darth Catalyst
Citizen
Dark Lord Immortalis & High Inquisitor
.: Chaos and Cunning
Handling the Hand
Posts: 248
Likes: 276
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Post by Darth Catalyst on Jul 26, 2017 14:30:58 GMT -5
IC LORD CATALYSTOutside Sadow's TombThe consensus of appraisals for the obsidian glyphs pleased Catalyst greatly. Finally this team was working like a unit! He followed Apollyon and Viscretus to the statue where the door was meant to be. "What do we think, friends?" Apollyon queried as she motioned to another set of hieroglyphs. Catalyst barely glanced at them before making a quick logical leap. These were far older than the stele behind them. Perhaps the obsidian block was meant as a translator. “Well this is makes far more sense,” he mused quietly. He didn’t even bother consulting the other Sith in front of him before striding back to the stele and drawing his saberstaff back off his belt. He took a few seconds to silently note what each glyph was meant to represent and made his way back to the door. After a few more seconds of study he began tracing letters of High Galactic in the sand with his hilt. K- EE I-N S-A-N-D “I’d say that spells it out pretty clearly,” he confidently gestured down at his handiwork. “Either there is a key buried around here or…” He scooped a handful of red grains. “The sand is the key. I wouldn’t put it past the Lords of Old to incorporate pieces of the planet itself as a device to open their final resting place. Most of them were remarkably vain.” A brief image of Dreadwar flashed in his mind. Few were more vain than their own Emperor. Catalyst could very easily imagine him invoking some ritual that involved whatever planet his tomb was on being in precise galactic alignment so that it would only be open for mere seconds every millennium. He suppressed the urge to chuckle and pushed the thought away. “Any insights?” TAG: Padawan4687, Darth Dreadwar, Volshe, dice,
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Padawan4687
Imperial Intelligence
.: Empress' Sword / Director of Intelligence
Posts: 133
Likes: 112
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Post by Padawan4687 on Jul 28, 2017 0:17:49 GMT -5
IC: Alisha TanoLocation: Odesson Landing Platform While following the High Shaman and her procession, Alisha quietly marveled at the Cathedral ahead of them. Though the grass alone was enough to inspire a nostalgic smile, a part of her actually wanted to snatch a blade of it. A few shades darker and it would look just like tulu grass back home... She sent a relieved smile Shira's way at the mention of the Febrayasi, and quickly returned to attention as Isis started referring to her. Tainted? With that, Alisha's smile and the relief that came with it evaporated. "Y... yes, High Shaman, I still do think myself a Jedi," she was quick to defend herself, keeping her tone still. "I spent most of my life with them, there are Jedi in my family tree!" Alisha caught herself grasping the front of her uniform tightly with a hand. Her words practically confirmed exactly what she was afraid of: that she wouldn't, or even couldn't, be seen as a Jedi anymore. "I lived and trained with the Guardians of Light sect of Jedi until just a few years ago." she continued, taking a slow breath to get her hand to loosen its grip, "They're all... gone now, I thought I was the only Jedi left. I suppose being disconnected for so long... changed me. I hope this will help me too..." "Redeemed"? That sounded as though she was guilty of a terrible sin. It was hardly my choice to end up disconnected from the Jedi! I only focused on surviving in those days... She glanced up to Shira again, with steely blue eyes. Alisha allowed a single uncertain whisper to sound across their bond, //I'm still a Jedi... aren't I?//TAG: Darth Dreadwar , Shira
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