The Old Sith Trials

COMBO POST
IC: RAMAGE, JANIA KIO
BEYOND SHADOW

“I have power sir... I know I can feel it inside but I don’t know how to use it. Please help me... help me so I can kill her and dance around her body.. can you do that.... can you help truly help me...” Jania looked over curiously as the darkness obscured her vision. She could sense the man still in front of her but all she saw was cold darkness and the slight presence of malicious forces closing in on her again.

"Power..? No, you have only passion right now child. Still, that shall serve." The Siniteen strode into an uncommonly fogless pocket of the shadow realm. The landscape was made up of stone and dust, what at a distance appeared to be gnarled roots and shrubbery revealed itself to be what looked like the remains of an ancient battlefield, perhaps from the Great Hyperspace War. Partially buried bodies of ancient Jedi and Sith littered the pair's surroundings, so old it was as if they were part of the shadow itself. "A fitting place for your first trial, Acolyte. Choose your weapon."

Her claims at having power being nothing more than a joke to him slightly pissed her off, but Jania would hold her tongue for once. Being instantly told to draw a weapon which she didn’t have, Jania began to search her surroundings for one in a very panicked state of mind. She was so entranced by the Sith lord's presence she almost didn’t notice the thousands of weapons around her. Grabbing a saberstaff she activated the blade and smirked a little. For the first time in her life, she held the blade of a Sith and could feel the fear, anger, and hate that was left imbued into the weapon long after its original master had perished. Now it was in Jania’s hands and she planned on using it.


-Darth Ramage preparing to launch lightnining

Before she even had the chance to twirl it once she could see a bolt of electricity coming for her. Not knowing if a saber could block it or not she used the force to aid her reflexes as usual. Noticing the directional path of the bolt she ducked low and slid to the right to avoid catching any of the shock. As she popped up, Jania was slightly jealous as she wanted to be able to do something as cool as control lightning. “Hey show me how to do that trick will ya?” She asked keeping the saber activated on one end in case he attacked her suddenly.

"Are you sure that is the only trick you wish to learn?" Ramage's voice suddenly spoke from behind the startled girl.
In an instant, the Sith Lord had positioned himself behind Jania Kio, whether this was some force illusion or a display of superhuman speed she couldn't be sure. The large Siniteen began a slow, deliberate assault on her adapting the torrent of motion that was the first sequence of Ataru into a methodical, even sometimes lazy seeming dance. "This Form should suit one of your stature and agility. Ataru is very physically demanding, you will learn to augment your physical attributes with the dark side allowing you to perform a rapid number of deadly strikes. Copy my technique, allow the force to guide your actions." As the Dark Lord finished his sentence, the speed of the lightsaber sequence increased.

Listening to his instructions she stepped back to dodge and memorize his movements before she would be able to accurately copy them. As he stepped forward and continued his barrage on her, Jania would take a deep breath before stepping into motion and mimicking the movements as she was starting to parry most the slashes and still dodge the ones that she missed with her saber. When the opportunity presented itself she jumped back and held out her hand trying to mimic all the Sith she’s seen so far. Doing her very best to focus every ounce of energy she had she tried to push the force for the first time ever... only nothing happened. The girl was still standing there with her arm out looking clueless.

Realizing the attempt had failed, Jania simply cursed as she began to grow more enraged. “Why, why, why!! Why can’t I do this shit?! I know I have the power too, but I just can’t!!!” She yelled as she jumped at the man ready to attack once more with the skills she did have. She remembered the moves he told her to mimic and started to repeat in combos as she tried to overpower him with brute strength.

The Dark Lord smiled silently to himself. The Force swirled around the young girl, powerful yet unrefined, Jania Kio could not transmute her fury into lightning yet she had quickly mastered the basics of Ataru. As the hate flowed from the small girl, it augmented her increasingly proficient technique with the brute force only the dark side could provide. Suddenly Darth Ramage found himself being pushed back by the unexpected onslaught, though not for long. "Good child!" He spoke in the same instant he transitioned into a single-handed grip variation of Form III. Instead of meeting her blows with equal strength he redirected the girl's overzealous oncoming strike with ease and swung his free hand toward her throat in the shape of a vice, lifting the small girl's form into the air once again.

Jania had figured her random assault was working as she felt herself gain an edge for the split second. It was only after that she noticed that her strikes were being redirected and she started to overreach because of the deflection. It was when she figured she stop the assault that the man moved forward and caught her by the throat lifting her off her feet. Squirming around while being held up by his large muscular hand she could feel the air being expelled from her body once more as it had with Viscretus. Dropping her saber, Jania brought both hands to the man’s wrist trying to get him off of her as she didn’t want to die in a place where she already felt dead.

Only a mere thirty seconds after being lifted, Jania’s face was starting to shade itself easily showing she was running out of air and in her eyes was a look of pure sorrow and fear. Fear of a death that she knew would be nothing, feel like nothing, and last forever. Knowing the man wouldn’t spare her since it would show weakness, Jania tried to think of a last chance effort to save what seemed like her final life. This wasn’t a holo-vid and she knew there was no respawn if she allowed herself to die now. Remembering the tips about letting the darkness guide and help her, Jania’s eyes began to take the darkish tones of a yellow and orange to show how committed she was to using the darkness as her ally. No... more like enslaving it so that it would do her bidding was a more fitting description of how Jania was trying to use the force. Her panicked and fearful resolve disappeared as she tried harder to force the guy into letting her go as she now stared him directly in the eyes.

Seeing the borrowed lightsaber fall to the ground, Ramage knew he had finally broken the girl's resolve. Her struggles amounted only to feeble scratches at his outstretched arm. "I will remake you, as the life drains out of you, girl, know that it is your weakness that has brought you here. Know that is it your strength that can save you, I will show you that which you can not grasp alone."

The Dark Lord of the Sith summoned the dark side once again. This time bringing his left hand to her brow and diving directly into her mind. Inside her psyche, Ramage could manipulate existing memory as well as implant new ones. Summoning his own recollections as tangible whisps almost like smoke, Ramage extracted only memories of his early tutelage under Darth Guile. The basic principals of telekinesis allowing Force Push, Pull, and Avalanche appeared as a cowled faceless figure and merged with the ethereal projection of Jania Kio which existed inside her own mind. This process continued for what felt like hours to the Siniteen, though he knew by now that time in the shadow realm was not something that obeyed normal limitations.

After imparting a refined understanding of the lightsaber in addition to the abilities in telekinesis and stealth, Ramage ended this lesson with one final gift, granting Jania Kio skill in the 'trick' which had dazzled her only hours before. Force Lightning poured from the final metaphysical form which Ramage conjured. As it merged with the young girl Ramage could feel an awakening, her consciousness had finally found the power it needed to reject him.

"Rise, my apprentice." The Dark Lord spoke to the now kneeling shape before him. He could feel the dark side gathering around her as she regained control over her body. "Now, you have the power to gain the revenge you desire. Now you have a Master."

During the entire process, she didn’t feel herself blackout but knew time was missing when she ‘awakened’ to find herself in a kneeling position in front of Ramage. A power unlike any she ever felt before swelled within her and she even felt she could break the bonds that kept her unconscious and in this realm. She could rise and show the group she wasn’t weak, she wasn’t dumb, that she was special and deserved respect... but no she didn’t want that anymore. She wanted to hear the man out and figure out why he would do this for her. Standing up as he told her to rise and called her his apprentice she looked quite shocked. Apprentice? Was she the apprentice of an apparition? A ghost? How would she even communicate with him much less learn from him outside this realm? She wanted to voice her concerns but instead, the only voices talking were the ones in her head again. “Use your power!! Use your hate and fury!! Master the powers you have been given Little Sith!!”

-Jania Kio Lvl 1-
Push/Pull 1
Force Jump 1
Force Avalanche 1
Lightning 1
Form II 1
Form IV 1
Force Cloak 1


-Jania Kio, reveling in her newfound power.

Screaming out as the voices continued on she began to harness lightning in her hands as Jania could feel her anger and pain from her real injuries. The more intense throbbing in her hips and back just made her laugh maniacally as the lighting channeled itself into her left hand as she used the right hand to bring her lightsaber to her with the force. She smirked, as she had never thought that having powers would feel so good. When she eventually calmed down and her lightning disappeared, she walked up to Ramage and bowed her head.

“I am yours to command Master.. Use me as you see fit.”

Darth Ramage smiled as the dark side itself seemed to celebrate the union. Lightning the color of obsidian rained down around them in the distance as if in reply to Jania Kio's torrent of dark side energy. The fog which had previously retracted around this outcropping suddenly began to swirl ominously.
"Come, child. Before you go I will show you what you must do, follow me to the Shepard's Pool of Knowledge once again. There I will show you where I have been sealed, and how you will free your master. Only then, can your training continue."
The Sith said as the two walked into the mist.



Darth Dreadwar , @lordjania

IC: Infrit
Location: Unknown

A deep reverberation, perhaps even a groan woke the Kushiban from a deep sleep that left him groggy and peeved."What the kriff," Spoke a person whose terror washed over Infrit in waves. "What the kriff!"
"Shut up, we're chained! Now, do as I say and I'll let you out.. Devaronian rat." Said another.
Peering out of the small slits in the cargo container he had been stuffed into  Infrit spied several humanoid forms beginning to stir in their chains. "Silence, cur." One of them spoke to the last.

"Whatever that is doesn't sound as though it needs further encouragement to be in a foul mood, and frankly nor do I." The small red rabbit-like creature silently nodded his head in agreement from the small box as the figure summoned a lightsaber from across the room, it failed to ignite. "Curious.. are these Sith...?" Infit thought to himself silently as a small talisman darted to the outstretched hand of the one who was speaking to the Devaronian and began to crack with electricity. "Pazzak!" Infrit thought to himself. "If I can find a way out of this mess, perhaps one of these humans can lead me to their leader.."

The Kushiban had been fermenting on the forest moon of Dxun for what must have been a standard year after a Republic customs patrol arrested Infrit and his gang, triggering his unnatural ability on a level he had never seen before, killing both the patrol and his friends in his attempt to transport them to safety. "No better way to kill Republicans and Jedi, than by joining the Sith." He recalled his former friend Nicht telling him once.

"Ah, excellent.. My most prized possession." The voice snapped Infrit's mind into the present. Now the figure was walking from a small pile of belongings to a struggling Duros on the ground. With a wave of the hand, his victim fell silent as two small reed-like appendages began to probe the brain of the hypnotized alien. "Groooooossss.. Maybe I should just play this one by ear." Infrit said to himself as he consciously adjusted his fur to match that of his surroundings, changing from his typical deep red to a black that seemed to absorb the hue of anything around it, an effective natural camouflage.

As the rest of the room's occupants were likely distracted with the foul feast going on, Infit took that moment to envelop himself in a force cloak, obscuring himself even further from vision and blending his force presence in with the natural ebb and flow that was present on the rest planet. Now confident that his disguise was sufficient Infrit again drew on the force, this time focusing his mind on being outside the box. Suddenly he was, phasing through the durasteel as if it had been a light fog and deftly scrambling up the side of a narrow column and springing into a niche just large enough for the Kushiban inside the fixture of unpowered ceiling lights.  

From this position, Infit could see and hear everything happening in the room. He could now see a damaged astromech projecting what could only be a Mandalorian battle helmet as well as a chronometer counting down on the wall before them (59:19..59:18) "An hour, but an hour until what?" Infrit asked himself. Calling upon the force one last time, Infrit augmented his already keen ears in an attempt to locate anything which might tell him what had been making the noises from earlier, or even a hidden exit from the apparently sealed room.

@volshe, DarthIramus, Coaltech

The cell block that awaited Darth Vassago consisted of a long, curving passageway of cold grey durasteel, lit by stark halogens placed on low-hanging beams every six meters that were the bane of many a tall Stormtrooper's helm. On the right bulkhead were drab doors that denoted cells, with Aurebesh type above each: cell BA, BB, BC and so on. Yet consulting the signs would be unnecessary; Blessed Toxmalb was standing outside the fifteenth door down. He was not alone, but he was not visibly accompanied by cultists; instead, around the bend of the passage echoed the reports of blasterfire, indicating whichever cultists had freed Toxmalb had gone on ahead towards the secondary bridge, leaving Toxmalb with...

"Do not pass, servant of the serpent!" The grey-robed pilgrim cried aloud, holding her hand out towards Toxmalb in a warning gesture, as if warding off the dark sorcerer from his goal of reaching the railjet tunnel Vassago was exiting. The Sith Lord would not recognise her, but the holy woman, drawn from the villages of Odessen by Shira's generous will, was the very one responsible for the Triumphant's current flight to the Nihil Retreat. She had entreated the Empress' Hand to come to a legendary world known as Zakuul, where the Imperials might find rest and respite.

"And what shall you do to stop me?" Toxmalb sneered, the expression cracking his dry lips and causing them to bleed, dark red against ashen grey, which in turn drew forth the buzzing darkflies that nested within his flaking cranium. If the frightful countenance of the Rhandite had any effect upon the pilgrim, she did not show it; as clearly outmatched as she was, not being sensitive to the Force as the enemy she faced, fear did not crease her features. "I shall do nothing," she smiled, "but there are beings who stand one level higher than we, venomous thrall. I lead these heathen to His haven, so that He might nourish them to His purpose."

Toxmalb's black eyes glanced up, noting the approach of Vassago, and feeling the power the stranger exuded. It was obvious to the Rhandite that this woman was a pilgrim of Zakuul, and in ordinary circumstances he would have been wary of smiting down a prior of the Dread God; after all, she served The Dark in her own way, no matter her misguided allegiance to the luciferous light - and luciferous lies - of her lord. Yet the arrival of the newcomer meant Toxmalb dared not broach the topic of why she was upon this vessel. It was a curious thing - could it be that my master lies to me? - yet not pressingly so. And The Dark was destruction, The Dark was death; whatever benefit she provided The Dark could not possibly outweigh the benefit of contributing to The Dark directly, by adding yet another death to the galaxy. And so, an ethereal spear of midnight black forming in his crooked hand, Toxmalb casually stabbed the pilgrim through the lung.

She did not cry out. Instead, that smile still upon her face, she spent her last breath on a peaceful murmur: "Hallowed is the Ari."

Toxmalb stepped over her fresh corpse as it slumped to the floor. The spear dispersed into the air like smoke, and the Lorekeeper of Rhand raised his palms in a pacifying gesture, or perhaps a mocking one. "Ah, Lord Vassago," he rasped, his weak voice high and thin, "truly a pleasure to meet one so highly regarded by the annals of Sith history. The history of the false Sith, that is, as false as you... and evidently, as false as our presumptions that we killed you at Makatak." The phrase 'false Sith' would likely hold no greater significance to Vassago than the assumption Toxmalb was simply insulting him, or somehow denigrating the Order he had founded - the only Sith Order in existence, to Vassago's awareness - as pretenders, but the implication of the Rhandite's last statement would be obvious: the mysterious army of apocalypse that had ravaged Makatak five years ago, the enigmatic entity Vassago had felt in orbit above just before it had devoured the entire planet, were somehow associated with this leader of cultists. "What are you doing aboard this ship?" Toxmalb continued, querying.

Deep in the railjet tunnels, meanwhile, the cultists Vassago had elected not to attack were making their way on-foot around the bend in the forked track, giving up on their stalled hovertrain and intending to leave the tunnels to find an alternative means of transportation. Unfortunately, their path was blocked by another stalled hovertrain. "Dark curses!" One of the eight cried out, sensing, rather than seeing, the form of Shira A'dola atop the flatbed. "It's the one from the hangar, the stupid bleeding-heart who brought us on-board!" another shouted, the harsh noises of unsheathing knives echoing throughout the tunnel as the eight cultists began to fan out as much as they could in the confined space, approaching the hovertrain carriage on each side, three moving carefully towards Sabba, five towards Shira.

And then they were attacking: one hurled his knife towards Sabba's chest, while another attempted to use the distraction to sneak by and climb up onto the flatbed so he could attack Sabba from behind, the third simply slashing up towards Sabba's boot from where he stood on the tracks. The five accosting Shira, meanwhile, amassed their novitial command of The Dark in a concentrated burst of Darkshear, sending a withering wave of entropic power not only towards Shira, but towards the machinery of the flatbed hovertrain she and Sabba stood on.

Alisha Tano's own battle was winding down, although scarcely because of her own actions. The Empress' Sword remained passive as Nox Talus waded into the remnants of the Technobeast pack, lightsaber hacking and slashing until there were no more. If she didn't muster a response to Azarius' pertinent question quickly, it would not just be the trust of her companions in her leadership that would suffer, but indeed the Imperial defense effort against the untimely incursions of both Rhandite and Technobeast. Nor was Azarius the only one waiting on her response; Alisha's datapad beeped again as it received a second urgent message, this time from the secondary bridge, the console of one Lieutenant Morgan. PRIMARY BRIDGE IS OVERRUN. YOU NEED TO INPUT YOUR AUTHORISATION CODE INTO YOUR PAD TO TRANSFER CONTROL TO THE SECONDARY BRIDGE. IF YOU DON'T RESPOND IMMEDIATELY, THE TRIUMPHANT WILL BE UNDER THE CONTROL OF THE RHANDITES!

The stakes were too high for there to be any further delay on Alisha's part. Messages from those who depended on her were beginning to pile up, and the Triumphant was on the verge of being lost, utterly and completely.

IC: Reaper
Location: Nar Shaddaa

With the explosions sounding behind him and him being launched his entire plan was thrown out the window so to speak. He deactivated his lightsaber and held out his hands. What he was about to do was going to be either very crazy or very dumb. He closed his eyes and waited till he felt the metal of the robotic hand. He then pushed off using not only the robots momentum but his own to hurtle himself to the ground where his feet successfully held strong, with a slight drag of course. After he had landed he reactivated his lightsaber and sent force pushes at the limbs of the robot to try and knock it down to find a weakness. He also tried to force pull a few of them just in case they bent the other way. His plan was just formulating when he saw Corvar. That troublesome coward. What was he going to do? Take credit for slaying the robot. Or perhaps he was planning to help. Either way he had to focus. He sat down after his attempts and began to meditate. He simply sat in silence listening. A battle meditation it was called. Similar to Darth Maul it could be done quickly to reinvigorate the user. Although it didn't work so much for Reaper. He simply tried to listen to the force.

Tag: Darth Catalyst, darthkain7

IC: Darth Apollyon
Room of the Spike Pit, below the false Tomb of Naga Sadow, Korriban

“A spike pit,” Catalyst was, as usual, the first to desecrate the sacred stale air with the blasphemy of joviality. “The ancient Lords certainly had a flair for drama didn’t they?” The Sith Lord was making a show of looking for another secret door, but Apollyon did not miss his withdrawing the adhesive gauntlets that had been their salvation in the pits outside. And it may be our salvation again - not just his. As Xirr added his own witticism, seeming intent on resuming the kaggath of jests between them, Apollyon was sauntering over to Catalyst, permitting her hips to sway in a rare display of allure. She smiled up at him innocently as she drew even with him, standing to his left and slightly behind him as she snaked her caramel arms around his waist. "I fear the Inquisitor is standing so close to this wall," Apollyon replied, "that he might miss the presence of the other three, Lord Xirr." Apollyon could not think of any other way to indicate to Catalyst that she knew exactly what he was up to, and that, furthermore, if the grate should give way beneath their feet, she was fully intent on holding on for dear life.

Xirr, however, seemed considerably less concerned with the potential for death. And Viscretus... Viscretus seemed positively eager to court such fate, as she made her way back down the far stairs and knelt down over the grated pit. Apollyon's concern for her friend's mental state was not helped by her speaking aloud to the air. "She kneels before you, now," Viscretus spoke in the direction of the wall. "I am the fairest that was, that is, that will be..." A pause of contemplation followed, and then she spoke once more - voice ever lower, warmer. "Do you not agree?" 

"Viscretus, dear, who are you talking to?" Apollyon frowned, more willing to assume her friend's mind was being plagued by some intruding spirit than that it was splintering under the pressure of the tomb's dark side pall. Apollyon was half-right; Viscretus' mind was being targeted, but not by the shade of some ancient Sith, not truly. No, instead, it was ensorceled by an ancient enchantment, the imprint of the builder's psyche giving voice to a long-lost spell of Sith arcana, much like the process that underpinned the creation of holocrons.

Correct, the spectral whisper addressed Viscretus again with a rapidity of precision and ease of confidence that seemed at odds with the fact it had taken a full half-minute for it to respond to her, as if her answer had been sufficiently befuddling that it had taken some time for the aetheric construct to process and verify it. The delay alone would likely point Viscretus towards recognising the voice's nature as some sort of magical recording, more akin to a supernaturally advanced computer than a ghost. Yet it was not done speaking. But your sagacity alone is not sufficient. You bring companions... and they too must face the Trials of the Sith.

And then the entire room began sinking.

Apollyon squealed in alarm, tightening her grip around Catalyst as a great shaking beset the room on all sides, dust falling from the ceiling and between cracks in the stone walls. Yet the grated floor was not giving way; no, the entire room, pit trap and all, was moving. The sense of momentum was unmistakable, the tug at one's gut indicating a rapid downward movement as the familiar ticking noise resumed. And then, just as quickly and just as jarringly, the room's descent stopped. Apollyon did not relax her grip, and her mouth dropped open in horror; in a sudden and awful instant, the intuition came to her. This was not just some antechamber. This entire room was the archaic equivalent of a turbolift, and they must have descended down some vast shaft... what... 5, 10 meters already?

What, then, lay at the bottom? Was the spike trap a mercy compared to what awaited them?

Remain standing on the grate, the whisper of the guardian came to Catalyst's mind next, seemingly blind to his use of the gauntlets. And to avoid severest fate, tell me of the Code that should govern all Sith, the penmanship of Syn weaving the myth: if peace is a lie, in the Book of Sith 'tis said, what is there only in its stead?

TAG: Volshe , Shira , Padawan4687 , Darth Catalyst , dice

IC: Darth Kain
Location: Above Nal Hutta

It was at the very moment that the new missiles launched that Corvar had an idea. However, these much smaller spider droids would get in the way. No matter; Corvar was good at multitasking.
He charged towards the large droid, lightsaber in hand, swiping at any of the little droids foolish enough to leap at him with his blade while simultaneously using the Force to try and push away the incoming missiles for a moment longer so that he could reach the hulking droid in time.

TAGS: Darth Catalyst trentongordon

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*character theme music (optional)*

Character Summary:



Name/Title: Ronan Vamar, Darth Neoplix


Age: 350


Sex: Male


Species: Gen-Dai


Homeworld:Koribaan


Occupation: Sith apprentice , Scientist, Alchemist


Height: 5'8"


Appearance: he is rarely seen outside of his armor. But when he is, his physiology is a purplish grayish color, well muscled and formed of a series large, ropelike, muscles. His head is angular, with distinctive jawline and cheekbones, and subtle fangs and slanted eyes. His hands and feet end in vicious retractable claws.


Weapons: he owns a variety of sabers, but normally only carries around one or two. He also has several smoke bombs, chemical and biological weapons, an elite blaster pistol fitted for variable rounds, a collection of cortosis throwing daggers/spikes, one cortosis combat knife and one vibroblade.


Equipment: his family possesses a large supply of holocrons and scrolls of ancient knowledge and combat. He often uses these to ascertain information and train himself beyond what he learns in the temple.

Similar to the bounty hunter Durge, he had had his body cybernetically implanted with a combination of technology and sith artifacts. He used these to augment his powers, and to enable him with several unique abilities, including amped force lightning, several chemical and biological weapons, and a pair of variable function gauntlets. The armor is made with sith alchemy to add extra power to his defensive skills, and utilizes the highest level of technology in its mask and armor.

Description of Abilities: As a Gen-Dai, he has access to a wide variety of inherent abilities to his species, such as his amorphous body which is boneless and composed entirely of muscle. This means he is much stronger than a human, and it also means that his body shape can be altered, either to fit through odd spaces or even to act as a weapon. His regenerative healing factor means that he is virtually impossible to kill using conventional methods, as if he sustains damage he will simply regenerate. The only known death of a Gen-Dai was when the bounty hunter Durge was flung into a star. Gen-Dai also have substantially better reflexes, memory, sensory, and mental capacity than humans, enabling them to move and react faster than almost any humans.


Personality: Ronan tends to be a quiet type, staying out of the spotlight unless called upon. He prefers instead to remain in the background, free to do his work away from prying eyes. When called upon, he is swift and efficient, searching for the best way to take down his foes with minimal risk and effort. He is a devout Machiavellian, believing in the manipulation of people for the greater good.


Biography: growing up on korriban , his intelligence was what made him stand out amongst others. This, in combination with his noble parents, made him one of the most envied students in the system. As he studied, he quickly realized that within politics, it would be easy to find a niche where one could gain power and accumulate wealth without being noticed or seen. He became a student in the korriban sith school, and began his studies, taking interest in things like alchemy and its application in manipulation.

Level/Stats (for new players):



(Sith characters only)

Rank/Level: 1

Class: Sorcerer

Skills: hand to hand combat, speed reading, poisons, science, chemistry, biology,



Force push/pull –1

Force choke –0

Force jump –0

Force Avalanche –1

Force Lightning –1

Force Defense –1

Mind Trick –1

Form I –0

Form II –1

Form III –0

Form IV –0

Form V – 0

Form VI – 1

(Warrior tree only) Form VII –0

(Marauder only) Force Rage –0

(Knight only) Inspire –0

(Sorcerer tree only) Force Drain –1

(Inquisitor only) Probe Mind –0

(Arcanist only) Dark Side Healing –0

(Assassin tree only) Force Cloak –0

(Stalker only) Force Stealth –0

(Watcher only) Conceal Essence –0

Force Storm -0

Essence Transfer –0

Hunger –0

Pain –0

Tutaminis –0

AUTOHIT GM APPROVED

IC: Nox Talus
the Triumphant, hyperspace en route to the Nihil Retreat

As the battle came to an end Nox Talus quickly realized that this “Empress Sword” Alisha Tano was still in the same place where he’d left her. Noting the fact that he recalled the Zabrak specifically asking her an imperative question and that she had ignored him as well.
What is wrong with her? Why doesn’t she respond to us? Is she stricken with fear? How can one be a leader if they’re to scared to move? The more the questions filled the mind of Nox the more his rage grew and his focus falter. Does she expect us to die for her own personal glory? I am no ones pawn! Something must be done and now. “My Lady...Lady Tano.....Alisha!” Nox screamed out. She was checking that data pad of hers earlier and now it’s blinking back to back. It must be urgent and still she ignores it!

Using the Force to strip the data pad from Alisha Nox reads the message that appears on the display. The message read “PRIMARY BRIDGE IS OVERRUN. YOU NEED TO INPUT YOUR AUTHORISATION CODE INTO YOUR PAD TO TRANSFER CONTROL TO THE SECONDARY BRIDGE. IF YOU DON'T RESPOND IMMEDIATELY, THE TRIUMPHANT WILL BE UNDER THE CONTROL OF THE RHANDITES!”

She’s going to doom us all! Something needs to be done now! “You fool! You’re going to be the death of us! Your leadership is both appalling and lacking. I’m taking control and saving all of us.” Nox could feel his rage building and the flame of the dark side igniting from a small cinder and exploding into an inferno. His sanity all but existent in his temporary outburst. He unleashed a Force Scream even more powerful than the one he unleashed against the Technobeast. The devastating blast of Force Energy would ripple through anything and anyone in the vicinity. The wave of energy was more than enough to stun Alisha Tano, but there could be more unseen internal damage through hemorrhaging. This was not something Nox was hoping for. Sacrifices are necessary in life and death.

Noticing that his other would be companion had also been in the path of his Force Scream but seemed to be in better shape the the now incapacitated Sword, he quickly engaged him. “That was not intended for you, if you don’t believe me, then try means find out. If you believe me then let’s continue on.” The fact still remained that the bridge needed Alisha’s command code and Nox currently did not possess it. The thought quickly came to him that Lady Tano wouldn’t be able to put up any sort of defensive against a mental barrage in her current condition. After a few quick moments he had found what he was searching for in the mind of the Empress Sword. Scrambling as quickly as he could Nox pulled back up the message from the bridge and entered the four digit command code. 8002. Sending the code off as soon as he entered the last digit Nox could only hope it would arrive in enough time.

TAG: Darth Dreadwar Padawan4687 Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror

IC: Alisha Tano
Location: the Triumphant, hyperspace en route to the Nihil Retreat

The physical battle was very quickly winding down, but the electric battle for Alisha's attention raged on hard enough to force her to put her lightsabers away. A string of urgent messages dominated her datapad screen, two of which suggested that somehow, the Triumphant didn't have much time left. How?! Alisha resisted pressing a hand to her forehead, and read them over again.

"WE KNOW. ALL SECTORS ARE ON ALERT. WE ARE SENDING A COHORT OF KNIGHTS TO PRISONER'S CELL, BUT THEY ARE HELD UP: SECONDARY BRIDGE IS BEING ATTACKED BY DOZENS OF CYBORGS OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN, PRIMARY BRIDGE IS BEING LOCKED DOWN AS PRECAUTION."

"PRIMARY BRIDGE IS OVERRUN. YOU NEED TO INPUT YOUR AUTHORISATION CODE INTO YOUR PAD TO TRANSFER CONTROL TO THE SECONDARY BRIDGE. IF YOU DON'T RESPOND IMMEDIATELY, THE TRIUMPHANT WILL BE UNDER THE CONTROL OF THE RHANDITES!"

From Lieutenant Ogalisd and Lieutenant Morgan respectively. How in all of Correlia's hells did this tiny sliver of Rhandites take over BOTH bridges in the span of just a few seconds?! Alisha thought, tightly gritting her teeth. This isn't like the monsters from before that could magically materialize wherever they wanted, far as I could tell, they were humanoid, including these new techno-beasts! A complete takeover should not be possible!

...wait a minute, something isn't right here. Alisha was wasting time now with these blasted messages, she knew that much. She had to do something about the elevator, too... But she scanned the messages one more time, and finally realized a few glaring contradictions. The transfer of control is supposed to be automatic, she realized with a sigh, ...and in case of a severe mechanical failure, lieutenants are supposed to have them already... my authorization isn't necessary, only my awareness of such a transfer is.

"HEY!" Alisha found herself shouting, as the datapad was ripped from her hands and into the refugee's.

“You fool! You’re going to be the death of us!" Nox was screaming, "Your leadership is both appalling and lacking. I’m taking control and saving all of us.”


The karking idiot! "You don't know what you're-!" Alisha couldn't finish her thought before the mad refugee struck, sending out all of his misplaced rage in a Scream. She quickly went limp, barely making a sound in the air until her back and head met the metal wall with a heavy crunch. A string of blood escaped her lips and ran down her chin, thankfully from a tongue bite instead of internal bleeding.

Alisha's body was effectively frozen, limp and slumped over, but her mind was going at hyperspace speeds. Long strings of enraged Togruti, Basic and Huttese curses, calls for blood to run down the halls, even laying down curses on Shira's head for leaving her alone with this clear psychopath ran through to many of her Bonds.

Only, it seemed as though this mad refugee wasn't quite finished with her yet. Alisha could perceive black tendrils of Nox's influence snaking towards her, and launching forward aimed for her head. Her mental walls, well fortified after years of upkeep, were torn apart as through they were built with wet paper as the tendrils forced their way inside. Alisha's thoughts devolved into loud and desperate screaming as her every mental defense was ignored, and Nox had his way. The tendrils withdrew just as quickly as they arrived, abandoning the now crumbling mind and returning to the waking world.

Alisha's mind was silent now, only faintly aware of her Bonds reacting to the "explosion" she'd just sent. Now that she had no mental defenses, any and all emotions she'd felt would be projected outward to any Force Sensitives within range. The only emotion on display now was murderous rage, all with a single treasonous refugee in its crosshairs. Her body couldn't move... but her mind was just strong enough to get out a single message in Basic to all that could hear: Kill him... KILL HIM NOW!

TAG: Volshe , Shira , Darth Voidwalker , Darth Dreadwar , Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror ,

Combo Post with Darth Solus

IC: Darth Deleritas

Part IV

Location: Inside the Citadel, Kaas City, Dromund Kaas



I continued to analyze my surroundings. Suddenly, from the cold and cracked stone floor, a fog arose. The fog gradually took shape and began to take on a humanoid appearance. When the fog completed its transformation and it had begun to speak, I recognized it as the spirit of Darth Nostrem: the architect of the building Solus and I were standing in. This is not a good sign. He was the genius behind the labyrinth we now stand in and if he got himself trapped, what chance have we? I tried so shrug the doubt from my thoughts. Suddenly the voices in my head surged with intensity and amplified every possible dire outcome of the situation we were in. I struggled to maintain my composure and stand strong with Solus. I allowed my right hand to fall onto the hilt of my saber. Trying to bring myself back to reality. Trying to calm the storm raging in my mind.

My gloved fingers danced along the icy, weathered metal of my staff. Angel. My mind slowly settled down and I looked to Solus for direction. He stood proud and unwavering. Maybe it’s my lack of training and experience but, I really wish I had Solus’ professionalism and steadfast confidence. Would be mighty handy right about now. For the first time since we had met, I saw Solus remove his mask from his face. I overcame the initial shock of his revealing his humanity and change from the rather secretive and imposing nature and I was quickly able to return to a state of semi-normalcy, I returned my gaze to the apparition of Darth Nostrem.



“Greetings explorers,” the ancient Sith crooned to Solus and I; his words dripping with charm and civility, “and welcome to my masterpiece. I am Darth Nostrem, architect to the very Citadel you now stand in. A delirious smile broke across the stoic face of Nostrem. “A Citadel clearly not good enough for the Emperor! He abandoned it! Abandoned the Sith that stood behind him!” Just as quickly as the smile had slid onto his face it was gone and he returned to his original, indomitable prose. “Regardless, what brings the likes of you to these hallowed halls?”



“We’ve come to revel in your masterpiece. To learn and concrete our hatred for the pathetic Lord Vitiate!”



Solus opened his response with a sharp tongue. Aggressive and yet pleasing to the ear. My eyes hadn’t left the apparition and yet I felt compelled to continue to look around. Racking my brain as I searched the room we were in, Lord Vitiate…I know that name…Emperor…yes…but what else. He apparently turned his back on my Sith predecessors. Solus’ attitude was pure, unbridled hatred…but yet…not. I opened my mouth to speak but, no words came out. Awestruck at the power that permeated the room and the light that emanated from the phantom. I could see Solus out of the corner of my eye and he wasn’t moving either. Unsure of what to do, I stood still as stone. The voices returned. Growing louder and louder. I closed my eyes and tried to discern what they were saying. GET OUT! YOU DON’T BELONG HERE! PLEASE STOP! Luckily for me, Solus did the speaking. He clearly had a strategy in mind.



“How could they abandon such a structure? This masterpiece should have been the epitome of Sith society and instead they left it to rot!” Solus continued in his pernicious rant.



This feels oddly false and…fastidious…I daresay. I thought to myself. I’ve seen Solus enraged before and I’ve seen Solus at some bitter and contemptuous times…but this is different. Almost…as if it is a charade. My mind was racing. Calculating. The screams of doubt and shrieks of agony had all but died, leaving only explicit plans. It is  a charade…he is looking to get a rise out of the dead Sith in order to exploit his knowledge of this place…I hope it works.



“We’ve come to learn. To explore the databanks that are left inside your…chef d’oeuvre. I am only more excited to have the opportunity to talk to you. We have so much in common. Now I have been presented with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. To learn from a true master.” Laying out his plans, Solus appeared to return the oozing civility of the apparition’s initial greeting and layered it with velvety flattery. His response disgustingly polite and charming in what I assumed to be an attempt at winning over the apparition by building commonality of hatred for a dead Sith. I stood with a newfound confidence. I hoped that my change in presence would alert Solus to the fact that I caught on to his plan. It’s go time. I smirked under my mask and allowed Solus to pay lip service to this specter.

Darth Catalyst,Darth Solus,

IC Darth Nostrem
Citadel, Kaas City

Nostrem gazed upon the two men that stood before him with inquisitive scrutiny. They were Lords of the Sith, that much was obvious. Their dress and demeanor gave it away long before he sensed the Dark Side concentrated around them. The one speaking directly to him was likely Master to the other. He sensed confidence pouring from the man, while the other was working to suppress a strong fear. “We’ve come to revel in your masterpiece. To learn and concrete our hatred for the pathetic lord Vitiate! How could he have ever abandoned such a structure? This masterpiece should have been the epitome of Sith society and instead they left it to rot!” A lie to be sure, but one that Nostrem cared little about. Vitiate’s Eternal Empire had not ended here, that much he knew. Even in death, he had felt the spark of the Dark Emperor’s life force blink out of existence deep in the Unknown Regions. No, it wasn’t that which drew the intruders here. “We’ve come to learn. To explore the databanks that are left inside your… chef-d'oeuvre. I am only more excited to have the opportunity to talk to you. We have so much in common. Now I have been presented with a once in a lifetime opportunity. To learn from a true master.” There was the first clue to their true intentions. The Databanks had remained untouched for thousands of years. There was a fair chance that any records still left would be corrupted or just outright wrong. Nostrem smiled to himself. A fool’s errand they were on indeed, if data was all they were searching for. No, this was another lie and an even more pitiful attempt to ply the dead Lord with flattery. It would be punished.

“I fear that the computers which house the data you seek have long been powered down,” Nostrem replied to Solus with the same courtesy that the Lord was showing him. “The generator fell into disrepair not long after the rats started infesting my skull.” The spectral Lord twitched and brought a ghostly hand up to scratch his face lightly. “Something I do not recommend. Alas, in order to access much more than the main hall that we stand in, you’ll have to find some way to get them started again. Unless you just happen to have a power droid handy that you can plug into every socket along the way to power every door.” Nostrem turned and began stepping towards a staircase leading down to the depths of the Citadel. “Unfortunately I won’t be able to provide much more than verbal assistance,” Nostrem lamented wearily. “It takes all that’s left of my fleeting power to maintain even this form after feeling the pull of death for so long.”

“I do suppose it is a good thing I’m still around to be your guide,” Nostrem called over his shoulder, assuming he was being followed down into the unlit catacombs. “It is rather pointless of me to ask for payment though. I suppose your honeyed words will continue to suffice Lord… “ Nostrem paused and turned to look at Solus over his shoulder, “forgive me, but you did not introduce yourselves properly. How shall I address you?” He continued walking while waiting for the two Lords to respond to him.


At the bottom of the staircase was a simple square room, only three meters wide and flanked by stone doors on both sides and a blank wall facing the stairwell . The control panels on both doors were lifeless and covered in a thick layer of dust. In his effort to pay attention to Solus, Nostrem was seemingly unaware of the wall at the end of the room and phased through it. When he did not appear after a few seconds, and both Lords were assured to have followed him, he triggered but one of the Citatel’s many traps. A great stone slab, alchemically enriched to resist far more than ordinary stone, fell at the top of the staircase. Darth Solus and Darth Deleritas were sealed in. Their salvation lay behind one of two sealed doors, assuming one had a way to power the control panel.

TAG Darth Solus,Deleritas,

IC Kubjo the Hutt
Kubjo's Arena, Nar Shaddaa

Kubjo bellowed a great laugh as the two peedunkee Sith tried in vain to defeat his mechanical terror. Corvar perhaps had the better strategy, trying to kite it and ensure it could not watch both of them but Kubjo thought Reaper was so much more entertaining to watch. Corvar’s mad dash through the swarm of miniature droids was effective, only a couple jumped for him and he was able to easily reduce them to scrap metal while still keeping the missiles temporarily at bay. Now the mass of the swarm was behind him and a massive leg stood in front of him. He had only seconds before the missiles corrected their course and hit him. He would have to direct his full attention to them if he had any hope of avoiding impact.

Reaper was not faring any better from his position. Kubjo saw him hurl his lightsaber at the droid’s center eye in an attempt to use the same trick he had done before with Kenzi. This wouldn’t fly. Kubjo wanted to see innovation in the face of adversity. He didn’t want his new business partners to grow comfortable using the same tactics over and over again. This was a test of their abilities first and foremost, and perhaps a moneymaking gambit as well. A gentle nudge with the Force was all it took. From Reaper’s perspective, all he would feel was slight but growing resistance as the saber sailed closer to the droid. Repulsors in the chassis perhaps? The plasma blade never made contact as Reaper switched it on and pulled the hilt back to him. He wouldn’t have time to push past the defensive force as the smaller spiders were beginning their assault. A flourish of Soresu’s efficient circles kept the small spiders from making contact. Reaper wasn’t in the clear quite yet though. The walker sized wardroid had finished charging its attack. It let loose a destructive beam of plasma, headed straight for Reaper and the swarm of droids surrounding him. Reaper had barely a second to dodge out of the way, though doing so would leave him vulnerable to a surprise attack from more than one of the smaller droids.

trentongordon,darthkain7,