The Old Sith Trials

IC: Alisha Tano
Location: Cathedral of Holy Jedi Spirits, Odessen

Having some reassurance was helpful, but Alisha couldn't help bringing her arms close against her chest as she followed the procession. The only thing that coaxed her to lift her head up again was the High Shaman mentioning the Guardians of Light again, and she had to listen intently. Jedi Code or no, she still missed them all terribly... and the thought of their massacre merely "helping" them to become one with the Force sounded dismissive. Painfully so.

Alisha lightly bit her lip and said nothing as the procession passed by a pair of statues. She had to admit they were impressive... and she'd read about how ancient lightsabers needed an external power source... This place inspired so much hope in her just a short while ago. She couldn't let first impressions destroy that hope.

With that resolve, she continued following the High Shaman beside Shira, into what looked like a massive feast... tables laid out, covered with food. Men and women of every shape and size all wearing white robes, Alisha was almost dazzled by the sheer light present alone. ...how out of place am I right now, in here? She swallowed hard, bringing her arms close again before sending a slightly nervous expression Shira's way. Children were rushing past, one of whom nearly managed to collide with Alisha's legs.

"Be careful, now..." she quietly commented to the child, very aware that he was now staring at her open-mouthed. Slowly and hesitatingly, she sat down beside her Mentor and Isis before marveling at the food. She took a deep breath, trying to identify familiar meats and fruits, but there was just too many. The scents were all blending together... so she started simple by taking a bread roll. A familiar amber glow stole her attention away from taking a bite and she saw the Grand Admiral himself... or rather, his holding tank. He's coming down here too? she thought, finally biting down, I never thought to wonder what a Celegian might eat until now... oh, and he has Imperial Knights with him! Maybe...? No, no... Alisha shook her head, slowly dismissing the thought. Probably not... Xal would probably still be confined to bedrest right now.


TAG: Darth Dreadwar , Shira

IC: Darth Dreadwar
Tuk'ata pen, Sith Temple, Korriban

The old spirit watched the twins go with the dispassion of a cunning intellect ever patiently diverting every circumstance to its design. They will not be enough. The Emperor had not arranged for the coming of the sisters to Korriban, yet part of playing a level higher was being able to survey the board around him, understand that it could never be wholly controlled, and make opportune use of the pieces millennia of life placed in his reach. The assassins' unusual bonding ability was not uncommon among Forceful twins, the harmony between two such similar minds, and a shared signature expressed through identical midichlorians, naturally giving rise to a powerful Force Bond. Powerful enough, his experiments suggested, to be pestiferous; it had taken a kick to the temple to quell the insanity surging through the psychic channel to Kevala, and their pain and rage had been shared, amplified even. It was enough to make Dreadwar suspect the death of one would sever the bond so violently that it would kill the other, much like the intense, almost physical bonds created through the lost ritual of Sith Battlelords.

And that is all Dreadwar needed. An individual with an innate ability to form bonds with others, that could be killed even if she were taught to use such an ability to leech life force to apotheotic conclusion, that could be controlled no matter how powerful. Kevala and Scionica were far from the only sapients in the galaxy to meet such a criterion, but they happened to be the first Dreadwar had encountered since his awakening, and their violent past and darker impulses already made worthy candidates to be Sith. Yes, yes, they would do. Kevala would be the one, likely; she seemed to be the natural leader, and most importantly, she had been the one displaying willingness to commit sororicide without the rage of madness motivating her. Yes, Kevala would be the one to die, and Scionica would be the means by which to control the demigod that would be unleashed.

But they will not be enough.

No, they probably wouldn't be. When the stars were right, the Left-Handed God would return. It was inevitable; slowly, unnoted, like the creeping red rust that spread insidious, the True Sith had encroached upon the galaxy, and they had amassed sufficient power such that the thought of preventing the Knell from breaking the Seals seemed foolish absurdity. But what Dreadwar was concerned with was surviving, and to that end he had taken every step; there was no such thing as redundancy, there was simply backup plan after backup plan, layers upon layers, wheels within wheels... One level higher.

Sometimes, one simply had to throw scheme after scheme at a problem, like throwing darts at a dartboard, seeing which landed. Not his usual method, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

If Dreadwar alone was not enough, the resurrection of Vahl would be. And if not Vahl, then the Pool of Knowledge would dispense the secret of Typhojem's weakness, and the Font of Power the strength necessary to steal it. And if not that, there was always the little robin, come into the fullness of her blood, and if not her... Then all hope would lie with Insipid, and his game with Samhain that he thinks I do not know about. The Force save us all.

The old spirit watched the twins go, and stood still in the Tuk'ata pen, ancient mind whirling like the dust in a freshly-discovered tomb, contemplating the end only he and Insipid knew drew nigh. No, no, oaths and proverbs aside, the Force would not save them. Only he could.

TAG: No one, possibly Shira if she decides not to go to the Valley

---

IC: Darth Apollyon
The Tomb of Naga Sadow, Valley of the Dark Lords, Korriban


Already, Xirr and Catalyst were beginning to trade barbs once again, even Robyn's discontent at the lack of assistance rendered bleeding into the cold, dry air around them. But Catalyst was right about the need for light, and any further verbal sparring was mercifully cut short by the whine of repulsorlifts screaming over the roar of the frothing sandstorm outside. She recognised the form that veritably vaulted into the tomb's entrance, the unusual helm with the horizontal protrusions silhouetted against the whirl of brown outside.

Darth Coatlec. His grandiose introduction was quite unnecessary.

And stumbling behind him, no, stumbling into him, an acolyte who seemed rather the worse for wear.

Viscretus was already bidding Robyn, who had displayed her typical compassion in relieving Jania's weakness and assisting her telekinetically, to bring the acolyte closer to her, leaving the obvious conclusion that her ivory-skinned friend was once again going to utilise her mastery of the healing arts. Doubly potent, Apollyon suspected, in the nexus of dark power that was the mausoleum. Instead of producing her glow-rod, however, Viscretus was merely taunting Coatlec to light the way, and Robyn, who had the - "Torch," Apollyon corrected, muttering, "Torch, not blowtorch" - was busy assisting Jania.

No sooner had she spoken, and the scraping of stone and stray grains of sand against time-worn metal edges rasped behind her, eclipsing the rectangular column of faint caramel sunlight filtering through the storm and the entrance's frame. It grew slighter and slighter, shrinking to a sliver, a shadow of light, a ghost, all in the fraction of a second before the door was shut completely with a dense thud and what little light illuminated the first few meters of the passageway vanished entirely.

They were trapped in the dark, with no way out.

Alone. But not.

The darkness was joined by its friend silence, the last sound of the door closing left echoing down the passageway, the storm raging just outside completely inaudible. It was the sort of eerie quiet that told her they weren't really alone. The dead were there - and the dead were waiting for them. The way is shut.

Apollyon shuddered, casting her fiery eyes around the absolute blackness of the passageway. The temptation was to control her fear, particularly in front of the ever-eyeful and ever-judgmental Catalyst, but that wasn't right. Fear is an instinct honed by millions of years of evolution, the whisper of her Master's lessons returned to her. Insomuch as its universality indicates fear is a trait highly conducive for organisms' survival, it would be unwise to repress it as the Jedi do. Instead, embrace it. Let it flood through you like the icy waters of Ziost, honing your senses to a razor's edge. Transform it into anger at the thing that threatens your survival, channel it to hatred, and make the enemy suffer. The enemy here was the tomb itself, its suffocating gloom and the thousand enemies such pitch darkness could hide.

It was wise to fear it. But its heavy power fuelled her anger, and with it her daring, an eagerness to unleash her rage upon whichever threats the tomb concealed. Viscretus and Robyn were occupied with the injured girl, but for now, she would lead Catalyst, Xirr and Coatlec to scout ahead. "Heal her, my friend," she whispered in the darkness, addressing Viscretus. "Shaire, make sure she doesn't fall again. She could have a concussion. The rest of you, with me; you three can catch up with us."

She walked forward, boots clapping mutely on tiled stone she could not see and crunching a few loose rocks and grains of sand scattered across the floor by the gale. The air inside the crypt was stale with dust and decay, and only grew more redolent of wasting death as she advanced.

Her caramel hand dropped to the lightsaber at her belt, preparing to ignite the snarling plasma to shed some faint illumination, but she hesitated. It seemed somehow indecent to disturb such perfect darkness, and as she wandered blindly forward, noticing the gentle descent of the passageway beneath her unguided feet, she could see a faint movement of shadows ahead and hear the soft snap of embers. There was no smile twisting her lips at this, but there was an undeniable excitement, a quickening of her pulse, a shallowness of breath, and suddenly she had to restrain herself from bursting forth in the darkness and tripping over some pedestal, support, or strewn rubble, or maybe even tumbling into another trap - for as inviting as the tomb was, there was an ever-present shadow of danger buried beneath layers of primordial mystique. She strode forward at an even pace down the stone corridor, feeling the subtle dip give way to a gentle rise, as though she was traveling across the inside of a V whose edges were bent nearly to the breaking point.

When she reached the top of the incline, some fifty meters she estimated from the entrance, Apollyon found the passage branching out sharply at 90 degree angles, one passageway leading left, another leading right, and the passageway they stood in continuing forwards. The walls were painted with shimmering firelight; mounted on the far wall was a metal bracket where a torch was nestled, its bandaged scalped charred and wearing a crown of orange flames, occasionally spitting a sparks with a faint pop. She realised then that she had resisted activating her 'saber because she'd known somehow that this was waiting for them.

Had it always been burning in this tomb, an eternal flame to light the dwelling of the dead?

Or had something or someone only recently lit the beacon, responding to their intrusion into the forbidden crypt?

She didn't know which was more frightening.

Apollyon reached up and lifted the torch from its brace, metal clicking against metal as the flames growled with movement, their tongues stretching out to lick the parched air and leaving wisps of smoke that were a barely visible brown in the darkness. Holding it before her like a ward against the tomb's evil, she surveyed the landing and the corridors' crossroad, noticing in the daemoniacal effulgence the torch provided that she had almost stood on the skeleton of some beast. No, two skeletons, one lying beside its mate, and if her memory of Dreadwar's obsessive and spontaneous lectures about zoology served her well, she could identify them.

Wraid.

Monsters native to desert planets, no doubt left to guard the tomb long ago... and no doubt felled by raiders who had last plundered it. Perhaps Revan himself, Apollyon thought to herself, knowing that the legendary Dark Lord had penetrated the tomb in search of an elusive Rakatan Star Map. Irrelevant, in her mind.

"So..." She addressed the Sith, hoping to hear the footsteps of Viscretus, Shaire and the acolyte pounding to catch up to them, by now; she felt vulnerable without her ally's close presence. A sudden, quiet cry pierced the tomb's silence in answer, a distant, shuddering wail that faded away far too slowly and far too horribly; Apollyon stiffened, but however palpable the tomb's evil was, the Force did not flare with imminent danger. Yet. Probably just some distant shyrack... although it did sound rather like the scream of a dying woman... Her imagination was running wild, conjuring up imagery of the restless spirit of a female slave damned to die in the tomb when it was first sealed, as was the practice of the ancient Sith.

More quietly, cautiously, her voice quivering, she continued. "Which-which w-way?" She swallowed. "Right, left, forward...?"

TAG: Volshe Darth Catalyst Padawan4687 Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror dice @lordjania, possibly Shira if she goes to the Valley, although the tomb door will be shut on her

---

IC: Darth Blight
Outside the Sanctum of Sakkra-Kla, Lower Valley, Korriban

Blight stared disgustedly at the mewling monsters as they reformed, rising again to stand against them no matter how efficiently Nihl cut them down. However, she had noticed that with her last strike, her lightsaber had caused the white fluid to sizzle, as she held her weapon deep within the putrid abdomen of a monster she had stabbed.

But any ability to express such an observation to Nihl was interrupted by the appearance of the ghastly woman. "I have come to save you!" she screeched, her head snapping to the side violently. "They have sent me!"

Blight was not too bright. "Excellent!" She replied, bisecting another monster as it charged, and jumping backwards away from the inevitable splatter of foul white fluid. "Temple's sent reinforcements, Nihl! Well, come help us out against these fiends, then! Perhaps if we can destroy this liquid, it can't reanimate them!"

TAG: Volshe Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror

IC Lemmy
Stuck in Space

Lemmy watched in horror as his hand passed through the Starweird’s. A ghost?! What in space is this thing?! The horror only increased as the thing’s claws reached through his chest and wrapped his heart in an icy vise grip. Lemmy felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. He shook his head, the shriek of the creature in front of him still ringing in his brain. He wasn’t going to go out this easily. He pulled himself back and away from the starweird and took off in a sprint towards the cargo bay. He realized he hadn’t even dropped his rations from his hand and shoved them into his mouth as he ran, hoping the food would give him a small boost of stamina.

When he reached the cargo bay, he grabbed his beam cannon from its spot on the wall and turned to face the door. If he couldn’t punch it, he’d try his damnedest to erase it. The cannon was designed to tear through air speeders and could even do some damage to a Starfighter hull. Lem grinned at the thought of tearing a new orifice in the starweird with it. "Eat this, space slime," he muttered under his breath. He set his sights on the corridor he had run down and waited until he saw the creature’s gaunt frame before pulling the trigger.

Above, 3D-4XR’s inquiry gave him more questions than answers. Questions like What in the world is this speech and What is this energy that is rapidly approaching the ship reverberated in his verbobrain. Then he realized that something potentially dangerous was hurtling towards the ship. He jumped to Lemmy’s control console and yanked the yoke. The ship veered haphazardly towards the Durendal, dodging away from the cloud of plasma headed towards it. “Sir, we appear to be under attack,” The droid calmly reported through his comlink. The lack of verbal abuse in response was concerning to the droid. He wanted to assist his master if there was a problem. Unfortunately he had problems of his own to deal with. He was certain his master would understand. Something else began blinking on the control panel. A viewscreen showed the Durendal pulling closer to the Dauntless and extending a docking ring. "You have a visitor sir," the droid stated. He pushed a series of buttons to complete the docking sequence and unlock the airlock.

Back in the cargo bay, the door in front of Kint would open to reveal a large, mostly empty room with a few rifles and pistols scattered about and a larger than normal Feeorin firing a larger than normal blaster at the Starweird that was accosting him.

TAG: Darth Dreadwar , gorzan  

IC: Jania Kio
Location: Valley of the Dark Lords

Jania suffered on the brink between this world and the next as she collapsed once more beside her Master outside the temple. She reached a point where the sand collecting on her didn't even matter as she was sure she looked pathetic in front of the various Sith Lords and other acolytes. From the little she knew of Sith ways she figured they would leave her there to feed whatever beast roamed the valley once the storm died down. Jania was shocked when she felt herself being helped up and dragged along, hovering off the ground with the help of the force. The conversation was incoherent in her ears but she heard as they entered the tomb and the door would shut behind them. She was probably more scared than anyone else there but what would be the point of voicing it when she could barely talk. She was safe from the dangers outside only to be faced with whatever lurked inside of this tomb. The bad luck and seeming hopeless of her situation reminded her of a memory back on Rishi when she was still in the orphanage. Fighting for food and water everyday with the cast away kids of other pirates and vagabonds, Jania was one of the smaller ones in the bunch. She would often go hungry and wonder where her next meal would come from if she made it that long. Now Jania wondered if she would receive treatment to make her feel whole again or would her suffering soon come to an end as part of a different fate.

As she could barely hear the group talk about splitting up before hearing a wail that even in her messed up state sent the fear of death into her mind almost enough to regain her senses. It was shortly after that that Robyn would bring the limp Jania over to Viscretus and healing to bring the acolyte to an able bodied version began. Laying flat across the ground, Jania closed her eyes to the chanting of words she figured was from another language used by the Sith. Her eyes would widened open before glowing a bright fluorescent purple as the wound on her jaw began to heal up as if it was never there. Another minute later and she was healed and seemingly rejuvenated. Standing up and looking around Jania had a smile on her face as she held her hand up to the wound and couldn't feel anything but fresh skin. However, something about the girl was off compared to her appearance before. Upon her face, right under her eyes she now had black marks looking almost like tattoos. Markings that could be described as random as lightning bolts and spreading as far down as her mouth. Corruption from the healing ritual had left its mark and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Thank you my Lady. I promise I'll find a way to repay this. For now where are we going?"she asked taking her training blade and activating it as she felt ready to take on anything.

TAG: Darth Catalyst, dice, Volshe, Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror, Padawan4687, Darth Dreadwar

IC: Darth Nihl
Location: Outside the Sanctum of Sakkra-Kla, Lower Valley, Korriban


Nihl was growing tired of everything involving this strange encounter. This newcomer was much the same. He knew Blight was too trusting of anyone that came along.


It was time to end this. "Blight, hit the liquid with everything you have!!" Nihl, reaching deep into his passion and anger, let out a powerful, sustained blast of force lightning. But...nothing.


"Well lightning isn't working. Kriff it!! Maybe this then." Nihl delved into the full might of his rage, unleashing all the power of his Ataru saber form. The strange substance sizzled, fizzled out, until it was completely destroyed.


"Blight, it is done."


TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Volshe

IC: Darth Xirr
The Tomb of Naga Sadow


    Suddenly, the deafening silence of the tomb was broken by the wail of speeder engines approaching the group moments later, a sith Xirr, unfortunately, knew quite well stepped into the light, silhouetting himself against the sun of the lower valley, followed shortly after by a stumbling, mortally wounded acolyte. As it would be, Catalyst beat Xirr to the first witty remark towards the newly arrived Darth Coatlec “Finally let you out of your kennel I see, Coatlec. Lord Catalyst,” Catalyst said with an elaborate bow, something Xirr did often. Coatlec was the offspring of Darth Talon, an... interest, of Xirr's for some time now, and Lord Nihl, someone whom Xirr had never formally met. 

    Just as soon as the two newcomers had crossed the threshold, the gargantuan stone door that had previously blocked the group from entry began to shut behind them the hallway around them becoming entirely devoid of light once again. Then came the wails of pain from deeper within the ancient Crypt. They stood at a crossroads, right, or left? Catalyst suggested they go left, backing it up with solid enough logic. "I say left is the most reasonable decision at this point, especially with at least some logic behind it." Xirr mused "What must we do to our robotic friend here? Reprogram him to follow perhaps?" he chuckled, looking back to Lord Coatlec.

TAG: Darth Dreadwar,Volshe,Darth Catalyst,Padawan4687, @lordjania, Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror

Name/Title: Raspir


Age: nearly 28,000 years old


Sex: Male


Species: Sith (original), Rakata (current)


Homeworld: Korriban


Occupation: Magician


Height: around 6'


Appearance:



Weapons: none


Equipment: Dark Side imbued staff, shield talisman, talismans of concentration, healing, and ensnarement


Description of Abilities: Expert in Sith magic, in regards to his staff he uses it to cast spells and can shoot force lightning out of it


Personality: calculated, cunning, experienced


Biography: Raspir was a pureblooded True Sith, court magician of King Adas, captured and imprisoned on a Mind Trap when a rival faction of the splintering Infinite Sith Empire, Soa and his Infernal Council of Sith, conquered Korriban in 27,700 BBY. He was freed by Ruthic, millennia later sometime between 5 ABY and 50 ABY, where he was mind-swapped with a Rakatan who was imprisoned in the device. His Sith body no doubt died and wasted away millennia ago. Now he inhabits the body of a red Rakata. As the Rakatan Archipelago was stitched together with the Sorcerers of Rhand to recreate the Dominion of the True Sith within the Unknown Regions by the new Infinite Emperor, he'd become a faithful servant and councillor to Emperor Edworion.


Level/Stats: Level 6 Sith Master
Qazoi Kyantuska/Mind Trick: 3 (This includes Illusion Casting per starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Mind_trick/Legends) 
Push/pull: 2
Pyrokinesis: 3
Sutta Chwitusak/Bolts of Hate: 3
Force Defense: 3
Waves of Darkness: 3
Dark Side Healing: 3
Dwomutsiqsa/worst fears: 3
Force Drain: 3

IC: Kint Dranlor
Location: Space

As Kint dropped from the ceiling, he saw the starweird next to lemmy. He landed, and moved forward at a sprint. He fired three shots out of his modified slugthrower, hoping the special rounds would work.

As the Starweird turned towards him, he dropped into a slide, and attempted to use the force to hurl the beast to the side, away from lemmy. "Stay down," he shouted at lemmy, and then sent a mental projection to the tarp. "See if you can shield him from its view, I'll handle the creature."

He turned, keeping his guard up. His left hand crackled with electricity, and in his right he held one of the specialized grenades.

Tags: Darth Dreadwar
Darth Catalyst

IC LORD HYPNOS
Orbiting Iokath

Lord Hypnos marveled at the massive structures that floated before him. The intricate machinery was truly a wonder to behold. Then he sensed something that would have elicited a frown had he the capability: These machines were practically flowing with Dark side energy. The implications of this were dire indeed. It meant that Mechu Deru would be significantly more difficult to implement against them. The psionic whine that the creature was exuding did little more than frustrate Hypnos further.



THERE IS LIFE APPROACHING



The telepathic roar startled Hypnos. While he had not made any effort to conceal his presence, he was surprised that such gargantuan beings were aware of his rather insignificant presence. He wondered how they had known that there was more than just machinery in the pod. His queries were soon quelled by another mental rumble.



IT IS SITH. IT IS SHARD. IT IS OF BOGAN. WHY DOES IT DARE APPROACH US? WHAT DOES IT WANT?



It had sensed the Force within him. Machines weren’t supposed to be able to do that. Not on their own at least. There was a higher power at play here, and Hypnos was determined to learn the secrets hidden behind the behemoths. Hypnos’ attention was drawn to the claw that looked like it could easily crush a Starfighter. It seemed to be charging up an electrical attack. No.. This wasn’t electricity. It was lightning, fueled by the power of the Dark side. This changed things greatly. Hypnos opened his mind to the Abominor. Stay your barrage, I bear no ill will. You won’t get your answers if you decide you must kill. He thought a moment more, deciding what secrets to reveal to the monstrous machine. Lord Hypnos am I, though Sith no more. My Master betrayed me, so now I explore. I found thee by chance, while exploring Odessen. I hope through my answers your aggression will lessen.

TAG: Darth Dreadwar,Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror,