The Old Sith Trials

Combo Post with Darth Solus

IC: Darth Deleritas

Part VI

Location: The Citadel, Kaas City, Dromund Kaas



    Upon completing my analysis of the control panels, I walked back over to Solus. The room’s air was growing stale and stagnant and was starting to make me uncomfortable and hot. That’s odd. I’ve never grown uncomfortable with heat before. I wonder if it’s just stress. Once I got to Solus, I informed him that the control panels were in working order and that just the right amount of electricity would do the job. This should be too easy. He is, after all, a force lightning aficionado.
    “Thank you, Deleritas. I will attempt to charge the doors. Stay clear of them in case they are rigged in some way.”
    Solus’ words offered little resolve to our current predicament. But, I heeded his order and proceed to sit in the far corner of the room. I placed my back to the corner, resting my shoulders against the walls. I crossed my legs and draped my forearms over my knees and closed my eyes. Opening my mind to whatever l’appel du vide had to offer. Nothing.     When a voice broke the quiet.

    “Darth Solus and apprentice Deleritas, welcome to your tomb.” Darth Nostrem crooned and his words reverberated off of the walls of my mind. His silky words, dripping with charm, created an essence that was almost worse than the unbearable silence that he shattered. “These halls were designed to keep all traitors to the Empire trapped within their depths. The Force can’t save you now.” His last words were overshadowed by the deranged cackle of a man whose mind had long since cracked under the confinement of his own Citadel.

    The silence was screaming. Solus hadn't offered much to help our situation in terms of his words. He merely strode over to the panels and set to work. I opened one eye to observe Solus at work; experimenting with voltage levels. Slowly increasing the intensity so as to not short the circuitry. Unlike Solus, my Force abilities were limited. My lack of training and age of which I began my training severely hampered my ability to connect with much of the Dark Side. My training had always consisted of my relying on my instinct and learned skills rather than brute strength and overwhelming power.

    L’appel du vide began in a low lull. A slow crescendo into a full “wall-of-sound”. A sweet lullaby that didn’t even consist of coherent phrases or words. PMR KRCRK JUFJRE QR OKST. PMR KRCRK JUFJRE QR OKST. PMR KRCRK JUFJRE QR OKST. PMR KRCRK JUFJRE QR OKST. My mind was a jumbled mess of words that weren’t even words but, rather strings of phonetic symbols. Their tones singing to me. Slowly my mind began to piece together what was actually happening. It was a code. An old memory was stirring. Prected NR KECEK JIFHRR QE OLSY. ONR LEVEL HIGHRR QE PLSY. ONE LEVEL HIGHER WE PLAY. How strange. This is the direct opposite of which the voices had directed me. Where have I heard this before?

    “One level higher we play!” I blurted out.
    That’s when I realized that it was one of the mottos that Lord Solus had instructed me to learn and know. It was, after all, one of Emperor Dreadwar’s mantras. What could it mean?
    “Apprentice. You must play to your strengths. The emperor’s mantra has many interpretations but, one of my favorites is using what you know about your enemy to your advantage. Let your instincts be your guide. I trust them as I am sure you do. Do not fail me.”
    I stood, patiently. Not showing any signs of the rage and war of emotions occurring within. Gee thanks, “Master”. Didn’t think of that on my own. What purpose do my instincts serve me inside of a stone room with no connection to the ground; to nature? I am a hunter and right now we are in the trap. This is not how the game is played My meditation has given me now two different…nay…polar opposite pieces of advice and all you have to say is “trust your instinct”? This is not going to end well for us unless we communicate on a higher level.
    I stood waiting for Solus to finish his work on the control panels.
   “What now?”


Darth Solus , Darth Catalyst

IC:Rhaneris
Yavin IV, Praxeum


Immediately the mighty beast reared it’s growling tusked mouth towards us, charging at full speed. I freeze momentarily, watching the saliva spew from its jowls as he flings his large spiked head and four taloned arms in my direction. My mind runs wild with every lesson and holovid on the Terentatek I can remember. "Poisonous tusks and claws with a force immunity often referred to as 'Jedi killers.' Hide resistant to blasters and glancing saber strikes. Use extreme caution and only engage in teams." Fantastic.

I fling my body into a ball towards the ground, quickly rolling myself out of the large beast’s path. I lean my back against the first form of cover I can find, a large stone column; which realistically the Terentatek could take out with a flick of his claw, but the temporary camouflage gives me comfort. “I’m going to try and blind it!” I hear Jarich’s voice yell through his panted breaths. Of course, I think. Jarich has never been the type to hide from a challenge.                                        

I look up to the temple not far from us and saw Master Vao also doing his best to lure the beast. Instantaneously, I knew what I had to do. Scanning the land to my right, I notice a decently sized rock placed perfectly to redirect the beast’s path. A loud zap rings through my ears and I jump to my feet. My arm extends towards the direction of the large rock, calming my mind, I focus on hurling the stone into the oncoming Terantatek and watch as it begins to fly through the air. I watch as the stone turns itself over in the air, flying towards the side of the monster- hopefully turning his attention my way.
I’m not sure whether Jarich successfully blinds the creature, but I know that if he hasn't, the creature will find me soon. I turn my body towards the temple and begin to kick my feet up on the pavement. Utilizing Force speed, I do my best to lead the beast onward to the Praxeum, and Master Vao. I do not turn around and confirm his attendance.

darthramage Darth Dreadwar , patrickx31

IC: Darth Dreadwar

Imperial Medbay, Korriban

Silence reigned in the Imperial Medbay, stretching like a garotte pulled taut. A pulse of tension beat against it. Dreadwar could see the feeble heart, palpitating against the leather of Coatlec's withered skin within a ribcage that looked like a jaw of long grinning teeth closing around the thread of his life. Coatlec was clearly frozen in shock, unable to articulate any response to the sneering bait his Emperor dangled in front of him. But how was it a surprise that his squamous tongue was dry and still within his charnel-scented mouth? This mongrel spawn was a bastard, as Dreadwar, but the teachings of his father ennervated him as surely as the devitalising spell of that sybaritic sorceress Viscretus.

A false Sith had no concept of the methods of rationality, and so Nihl had failed to teach his pup the urgent sense that when addressed by one who held your life in the balance, you spoke with all haste no matter what crippling fear indisposed you.

But I will teach you, child.

The energy around Coatlec's neck collapsed with rapacious rapidity, robbing Coatlec of air as a crushing pressure descended on his throat without so much as a twitch of the Emperor's finger. "Something to say, child?" the Emperor hissed, mocking Coatlec's gagging. As the pernicious whisper echoed hollowly throughout the room, Dreadwar's visage began to change, the black tattoos of Darth Talon running in sluicing rivulets to the floor, unspooling in a shimmering fountain of ink that became cascading robes rippling and falling around Dreadwar's form. The crimson countenance of Coatlec's mother vanished within the abyss of an enshrouding empty hood, her mouth open in a silent scream as the warped face fell backwards into the void. Whether Dreadwar was possessing Talon, and accomplishing his customary appearance through Sith illusions, or whether he was merely speaking to Coatlec in the supple form of a Force Phantom, was unclear.


The sharp talon of a gauntlet descended to stroke Coatlec's cheek with enough pressure to draw blood. And then, as Dreadwar leaned over, the choke mercifully abated. "Because I cannot understand you," Dreadwar finished mockingly, the putrid scent of decay washing over Coatlec as the empty hood rattled in his face in dark exhalations of spectral breath.

Location: The Dark Room

Turning his hooded visage toward Darth Xar. "Ah, I see you are still among the living, Xar, how fortunate for the rest of us." He rasped dryly.
Focusing on the shackle around his mechanical wrist, Iramus used the force to release the pin. "As to my lightsaber, and it would appear my comlink as well, someone or something has drained the power." Digging in an inner pocket of his robes. "Ah, yes, but apparently whomever or whatever did this did not bother searching me thoroughly as I still have an extra power cell." Twisting the hilt gently he exposed the depleted unit. "This aught to do the trick." He muttered, replacing the cell and igniting the weapon experimentally.
It was then that he noticed the Anzat Sith Lord standing over the prisoner. 'Typical' he thought scornfully. 'Of course he would chose now of all times to have a meal.' Iramus watched with mild disinterest as the tentacles revealed themselves and Xar fed. 'Odd creature.' He thought with a mental shrug. 'Aren't we all?'
Turning to the equipment pile he retrieved his belt, pouches, and other personal effects... but wait... "KRIFF! The karking mongrel took my data organizer!"

TAG: Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror , Darth Dreadwar , @volshe darthramage

IC: Darth Coatlec
Location: Medbay, Sith Temple, Korriban


After hearing Talon's plans to infiltrate the side of the Emperor in order to dispose of that cold witch Viscretus, Coatlec was greatly pleased. That pleasure did not last long however as "Talon's" next remarks came. "What say I," she said. It was strange. Her breath upon Coatlec's countenance was certainly not what was expected of the beautiful Lethan Twi'lek. It wasn't warm, welcoming, and seductive. No, it was none of these at all. It was cold. Cold as ice, cold as Ziost, cold as death, cold as Dread. As she stepped back returning to a comfortable distance, she began to speak again, and it struck great fear and dread into Coatlec. One level higher. The familiar mantra of the cold, immortal Sith Emperor played over and over again in Coatlec's mind's eye, as "Talon" spoke, "I would say, Lord Coatlec, that you would do well to put aside foolish notions of vengeance and treason, before I gut your mother like a dog." No way. Possession? Force Phantom? This is not Talon at all. It is my Lord, the Emperor.


"What say you to your Emperor?"


This struck Coatlec aback. The coldness of his God froze Coatlec in place. His notions of vengeance and treason against Viscretus had been caught red-handed. He could not speak at all. One level higher. His ways are higher than my ways, and his thoughts are higher than my thoughts. I could never outsmart him. He is the God-Emperor for a reason. The Emperor's finger then twitched and a mass of telekinetic energy came down on Coatlec's throat, robbing him of air, and sending him to his knees on the floor gagging. And as he looked up, Talon's countenance began unspooling into the familiar tattered robes and empty hood of Darth Dreadwar the Magnificent. "Something to say, child," Dreadwar hissed, but Coatlec was powerless to respond.


I...I can't muster a response. What is...happening to me? Dreadwar then leaned over and released the choke, allowing air to circulate within Coatlec's lungs once again. But he did stroke Coatlec's face with a talon of a gauntlet, hard enough to draw blood. Immediately, the nanites began healing the wound, though their process had been slowed due to the two Viscretus drains. "Because I cannot understand you," Dreadwar hissed with a foul scent of decay coming over Coatlec as he said it. Coatlec remained on the floor, moving from his knees, to sprawling himself prostrate in front of his God. "My Emperor, I have failed you. I should never attempt to subvert the hierarchy of your great Sith Empire. In fact, my place would probably come easier if I simply fell in line. Seems I still have, and ever will have much to learn," Coatlec said. He was certainly fearful, and Dreadwar could almost certainly sense the fear exuding off him. "But I do know, for certain, one thing. You are God here, and there is no other," he finished confidently.

TAG: Darth Dreadwar , Lord Vassago

IC: Azarius Qazoi
Location: The Triumphant, en route to the Nihil Retreat


The former Jedi refugee was making quite the scene. After Alisha failed to respond to the message, Nox Talus took action. He sent out a huge Force Scream knocking Alisha to the ground, and freezing her in place. "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," screamed Nox as he ripped Alisha's datapad and sent the codes to the secondary bridge. "You don't know what you're-!" yelled Alisha before she fell limp to the ground. Oh, I could behead her right now. End this failed leadership. We need the Empress back. But that wouldn't be my way. I cannot kill a defenseless Jedi, especially one that the Empress trusts to lead her Empire alongside Lady A'dola. It was at this moment that he heard a familiar voice address Talus. "Do not move, peon. Who are you who dares harm my Sword?" It was the Empress! She had returned, but how? It mattered not to Azarius. But he was struck frozen by her reappearance for a time. 


Kill him... KILL HIM NOW! The telepathic message from the Empress' Sword touched the minds of presumably everyone in the vicinity. I...I can't kill him. I won't. "I am Nox Talus, refugee of Odessen and former Jedi Knight. And you, you must be the missing Empress, Empress Volshe," replied Nox to the miraculously returned Empress. "You don’t seem to be so missing to me. So why does everyone else think so?" he continued. Azarius was caught up in a whirlwind. Keep to the Empire, and the hierarchy, or flip to the side of his new ally. The Empire or Nox? The choice was clear, but yet Azarius remained frozen. "Protect the Sword," he heard another Knight yell towards him, but still he remained stationery, as if he was entranced in something.


Azarius watched as his new friend was attacked by the Knights. There was nothing he could do. Nox was stabbed in the leg, and sent hurdling down the hallway. It was then that Nox reached out to Azarius through the Force to connect with him telepathically. You have to help me! If I die then everyone dies with me! You called me brother and fought by my side, now keep me alive. Don’t do anything to get yourself killed, but don’t let them kill me. I won't let you die brother. Out of the corner of his eye, the Zabrak saw the other woman, the Empress' Hand, Shira A'dola run in, and address the Empress, "My lady, It’s an honour and a great joy to be in your presence once again. How may I serve you?" It was then that Azarius broke out of his daze, and then he turned and faced the Empress. Descending to one knee with his head in a deep bow, he humbly asked, "My Empress, I, Knight Qazoi, humbly ask that you keep this man alive. Please. Throw him in the ship's brig if you must, but please keep him alive."


TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Volshe, Shira, Lord Vassago, Padawan4687, Darth Voidwalker

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

Only now, many seconds after slamming her head against the wall did Alisha attempt to open her eyes. Everything was so blurry, she wondered if she was about to black out completely... or if she had already. Rage was still radiating off of her, it was practically the only thing she could feel. The entire back of her head ached, and she fully expected to see bruising the next time she could check.

When colors returned to her vision, and she could see the fully-formed figured of both Shira and her late Empress, Alisha was tempted to shut her eyes again. "...am I dreaming?" she whispered to herself, glancing down at the feeling of something dripping. Blood...and practically everything hurts now, so I at least know I'm still alive and conscious.

Her eyes drifted to the refugee that attacked her and doomed their ship in one fell swoop, and Alisha could have growled. I'm alive... and so is he. The waves of anger she gave off were somewhat tempered by awed confusion, and she managed to move herself to one knee. "My Lady Volshe...?" Alisha stunned herself, she didn't think she'd be saying that title aloud again! "Is it really you?"

Shira, as well as every Imperial Knight she could see were kneeling... the only thing that broke through this silence was Azarius's plea. Blasted stalker... she thought, glancing in his direction. There was no way to hide her displeasure with the notion he insisted upon. The decision concerning Nox now was thoroughly none of his business! Much like everything else you decided to stick your intrusive little nose in today. "Your right to request anything concerning this traitorous refugee expired long ago."

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

IC Darth Nostrem

Citadel Catacombs, Dromund Kaas

Deleritas’ appraisal of the control panels combined with Solus’s careful application of voltage brought the screen brightly to life. The touch panel began running through a boot sequence, displaying characters in ancient Sith. After a few seconds, the screen stabilized, displaying a pictograph of a lock on the left side and a symbol that looked like an open flame on the right. Nostrem’s ethereal cackle permeated the chamber again. He could sense Deleritas’ discomfort and decided to play with the apprentice’s emotions. “Your weakness betrays you, young Deleritas,” the spirit taunted through the walls. “Your master senses it as clearly as I do. You do not belong here, among the ranks of the Sith Order. You’re nothing but a pretender, wielding the Force for little more than prestidigitation.” The stale heat that Deleritas felt would continue to build. Oddly enough, Solus would feel it as well. It was as if the room they stood in was an oven, steadily rising in temperature. It wasn’t enough to hurt them yet, but enough to make their clothing feel oppressive. Nostrem’s mad rant continued. “You will die before you are truly accepted into the Sith Order. The power of the Dark Side has no place in the hands of fools. The True Sith died on Dromund Kaas when the Emperor abandoned his people in favor of the Unknown.” The phantom’s wrath was no longer directed at Deleritas it seemed. Now with the door controls seemingly operational, the two men had a choice before them: try to open the portal and continue onward or use this same method to try and activate the other terminal. Whichever they chose, it seemed as if the mad spirit of Darth Nostrem was going to continue haunting them for the rest of their time in the labrynthine catacombs.

TAG: Darth Solus ,Deleritas ,

---

IC Kubjo the Hutt
Kubjo's station, above Nar Shaddaa

Kubjo could sense the desire flare to life in both men as they gazed upon his treasury. Naturally the holocron was what drew their attention the most. Their reaction told Kubjo more about each of them than the arena fight had. "Quite the collection you have here," Corvar spoke, his eyes still scanning the room. "I wouldn't be surprised if you have an enemy or two trapped in carbonite along these walls." Kubjo let out a great belly laugh. Corvar was, of course, correct in his ascertainment. There were more than a few trophies kept living in Carbonite hibernation, waiting for the day Kubjo would either dispose of them or allow them a chance of apology.

Reaper, ever the practical mind, spoke up next. "This is an extravagant collection you have Kubjo. Many ships, weapons and armor, hell even a holocron. Now I'm wondering why you haven't made an Ugly Ship yet. If you experimented with the ships you might end up with a good concoction even though many would be bad. I'm also wondering why you collect armor and weapons if many of them you can't fit." His judgement was sound, but Kubjo had no intention of actually using most of the items he had stockpiled down here. Many of them were kept for nostalgic purposes, or as trophies from the Hutt’s enemies. A sizeable portion he kept simply because few other beings in the galaxy could lay claim to ownership of some of the artifacts he had a hold of. And then there was the most important reason, the purpose which he was keen to divulge to both Reaper and Corvar:

Bargaining.

He began speaking and gesturing to various objects in the room; D-3PO, eager to speak again, began translating right away. “The Mighty Kubjo’s heart is warmed by your appreciation of his fine collection. It took him a great many years to build up such a sizeable treasure pile. He would offer some of this wealth to you as well if you can find something he has had little luck acquiring.” Kubjo strode to an empty case, with an ancient looking scroll resting in the bottom. Upon the scroll, among the faded Aurebesh characters, was an image depicting a sword. Reaper and Corvar would be able to make little out from the faded parchment, but directly below the picture, the characters spelled out what looked like a name. 

Jen-Sin Caal

“Mighty Kubjo has been seeking to add a Jedi sword to his collection for some time,” D-3PO continued. “With Sith swords being common in days of old, Jedi swords are somewhat more rare. They are said to have substantial more traces of their owner in their construction when compared to a lightsaber. At the peak of their power, they were said to have the potential to absorb and store Force based attacks and were even capable of harming Sith Spirits.” Kubjo turned back to face Reaper and Corvar and crossed his arms behind him. “Due to the nature of your business relationship with Kubjo, he is willing to offer you a token as perhaps a down payment for your services finding this ancient treasure. Do you accept?”

TAG: trentongordon , darthkain7

IC: Shira A’dola
The Triumphant, hyperspace, en route to the Nihil Retreat

Airy, sky-blue registered behind Shira, heralding Sabba’s entrance among them. Turning, she beckoned to the young woman, gesturing for her to come stand behind her. Volshe’s hard eyes were locked on Nox and Qazoi and Shira hesitated momentarily; she did not want to interrupt the Empress’ proceedings. Weighing her options, she nudged gently at the rich, deep violet of her closest friend’s Force signature, impressing the signatures of Sabba and Vassago into her mind and giving a summary of their place aboard The Triumphant. The mental exchange was swifter than thought and she retreated within moments to the confines of her own mind as she felt Volshe focus her attention on the comatose man lying at her feet.

“Stay close to me,” she murmured to Sabba, silver-green eyes conveying the import of the situation. Turning, she weaved between bodies and came to stand before the Vahlan that had been instructed to care for Alisha. She spoke softly with him, careful not to interrupt Volshe’s concentration. “There’s a man in the TIE storage spaces. I believe he’s a compatriot of yours. While he has currently lapsed into unconsciousness, he is very ill and requires urgent medical attention. Once you have completed this task, I will show you the way.”


TAG: Darth Dreadwar , Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror , Darth Voidwalker , Padawan4687 , Volshe , Lord Vassago

GM blessed post

IC: Darth Vassago
Aboard The Triumphant, secondary bridge.


"Stand down," a voice shouted shakily. "Or I'll detonate the hyperdrive.” The eyes of Vassago fell slowly to a cultist to his left. The man was visibly distressed and had beads of sweat on his forehead, rolling slowly down his cheek, and an obvious lump in his throat, struggling to swallow. The cultists eyes widened with surprise when ominous hooded figure complied with his command.

The Dark Lord deactivated the lightsaber in his hand, retracting the violet blade back to the hilt, and carefully replaced it to a loop of his belt. His hands slowly set out before him, palms up, as if to show the cultist that he posed no threat to those on the bridge at all. He focused his mind, muffling the world around him and silencing the thoughts in his head, so that he could focus on the thoughts of the cultist before him. To his own surprise, Vassago found the mind of the cultist before him very much sheltered, closed off, even. This posed a problem. Without being able to immediately probe the cultists mind, he was unable to tell if the man was bluffing or if he truly meant to deal massive damage to the vessel.
The risk was too high to allow such an action to even be considered; the ship remained his only path to Darth Dreadwar, therefore Vassago needed to ensure its safety.

Through the silence in his mind, Vassago was able to hear the random fumbling and clanking of unsteady fingers against the cold Thermite of a detonator. More importantly, and perhaps more urgently, his ears filled with the hushed whispers of cultists still hiding near him. “ Ari Nemesis, vexok savaka. Jiaas nuyak Kintik—” if the prayer were allowed to finish an otherworldly power could be invoked, a power that would prove a challenge even to Darth Vassago. The cultists reliance on the prayer was not completely unexpected, however he was hoping to avoid it all together. He had to think quickly to avoid a largescale incident with just the remaining cultists.

The cultist that was fumbling with the thermal detonator finally figured how to arm the device and thumbed the activation switch. With a chirp and the pulsing red light of the explosive in hand, he revealed himself with a shout, brandishing the detonator. “Surrender!” The shout caused only Vassago’s eyes to shift to the cultist that the noise came from. Time was of the essence for the Lord of the Sith; rather than rip the bridge apart attempting to find the cultists that were reciting the prayer, attempting to get to them before the completion of said prayer, he decided to take a more reckless path.

“Die well,” the Dark Lord said quietly, the pull of a slight grin at the corner of his mouth. When the words left his lips he pushed his hands forward, and launched a volley of lightning at the cultist holding the explosive. The white-hot lightning streamed from his fingertips and laced itself around the skeleton of the cultist, immediately penetrating his flesh. The rings of lightning that swirled and spiraled across his anatomy quickly found the device in the cultist’s hand, and the instant the Force powered electricity touched the thermal detonator, the thermal grenade exploded. The entire secondary bridge was set aglow with the intense fires of the explosion, sparks and shrapnel flying in every imaginable direction. The velocity of the explosion immediately obliterated the cultists that were standing before Vassago just moments prior, and the flames traveled with such speed and ferocity that none in the area could escape it.  The force of the blast blew passed Darth Vassago, who stood with one hand extended out before him, palm facing the origination point of the explosion. He clenched his teeth and his arm began to strain a bit with the power of the Force he was commanding into the palm of his hand. The flames of the massive blast flowed around him, his cloak billowing in the rush produced, consuming everything on the bridge except him.

The entire bridge was charred, embers floating through the air, consoles and walls glowing orange with the deep scoring from the debris of the explosion. The air was thick with smoke, sparks being tossed out from each console, sprinkling across the floor. A soft sigh left the lips of Vassago and he relaxed his arm, ending his channel of Force power. With a masterful display of his command of the Force, and use of Tutaminis, he successfully secured the secondary bridge...


Darth Dreadwar   Darth Voidwalker ,Shira ,Padawan4687 ,Volshe , Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror,

IC: Relon Ka’a and Davon
The Mysterious Room

Infrit would notice a small vent, perhaps a half metre in height and quarter metre in width. But that is not all he would notice. A small panel of switches right beside it, six in total, only two of them illuminated with dim red light…

Relon stepped backwards, hands flying up at the sight of the now-handless Duros’ brain being probed.

“Holy kriff!” Davon exclaimed, taking the words right out of his mouth. His fellow pirate didn’t stop there. His hands gestured wildly to the comatose Duros who flopped to the ground. “Man, what the….what the kark? Why’d you do that? You lunatic!”

Relon had to take hold of his arm and yank him backwards. “Shut yer mouth, Dav. Or you’ll be supper next.”

He scanned the room quickly, ducking behind a column and starting to work on a crate. Chance of him opening it was slim. But at least if they looked useful the other two might spare them. Relon barely met their eyes, instead pulling Dav down beside him and whispering.

“Take this…” A small flimsi, etched with glyphs was pressed into his palms. “Can’t read it, but, eh. They won’t know. Just gotta sneak outta here without ‘em. Right? You can get us outta whatever door, Dav?”

Dav nodded, only half certain of his technical skill, glancing back to the two obviously-Force-users and scanning the darkness for the ‘door’ Relon seemed to expect.

Relon threw the lid off the empty crate beside them and barked in feigned excitement. “A-ha!”

Dav jumped, then stood up just as fast, clutching the flimsi in his still-shaking hands. His eyes darted to Relon as he spoke, waiting for any cue. Relon shoved his chin forward in an effort to get him to play along. “What is it?”

“Our way outta here, my friend...schematics.”

Though most suddenly, halfway through their act, the room began to shake beneath them, the power flickering out into a faint green light, distant shrieks beginning to ooze through the metallic walls. A voice broke through, a harsh whisper seemingly directly into their minds.

From Chaos! From Chaos it calls! Delay not, for time runs out for you.

Dav dropped the flimsi and jumped back, Relon fighting the urge to do the same. The clock had blinked out - but now blazed to life again at 43:22, each second seeming to tick down in half the time. The astromech flickered, the Mandalorian’s image shifting to a puddle of blood-red stars upon the durasteel floor.

“What the kriff was that? What the kriff is going on?”

TAG: Darth Iramus , darthramage , Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror
TAGSET: Dxun Cache

---

IC: Dynami
Narrow Canyon, Ruins of Dreshdae

It had found its way to where the Darkness shifted, to where it was familiar - not cold and harsh. The passage was small, barely traversable. But it had a thousand voices to lead its way. A thousand souls of knowledge within its mind. It laughed, a barking laugh that shifted to a cough.

It shivered as the fit ended. The desert chill had begun to break through its alchemised skin, into its tissues. It mattered not, Dynami was near. It was near what it sought, the power, the Darkness it could nearly taste within its fluids, feel within its throbbing vessels.

So Dynami continued forth, deeper into the narrow canyon, barely as high as it was tall. Dynami would not stop. It had its orders from one Undying, of unmistakable power.

Tsawak jenûqyâsik.

Dynami ducked into the cavern ever further, clawing the walls as it pulled itself along, ignoring the gashes that oozed a burgundy blood as they formed along its back and wrists. A blood that smelled of a million corpses and the perfumed herbs of alchemical masters.

As Dynami glanced up, towards the shifting desert skies, the Sith Temple stretched above. Its maniacal grin turned to a scowl, nails crumbling stone beneath clawed grip. They would not stop it. It hissed out a breath and proceeded ever faster.

There was one who it would seek. Only one it would speak to.

The wind rushed forth, whipping around Dynami, sand forcing itself into its dripping wounds.

In its mind flickered a memory, a night upon Korriban...bearing the frigid chill within a tomb of the Lower Valley. A man ahead, leaning towards the altar, clad in robes of red and gold. He turned, aged features softening, waving Dynami over.

Except. Except. Except?

Heels clicked faintly. Onyx gown brushed along the stone. Hand outstretched to take his. Ivory. Jewelled rings. Dark blonde hair at its shoulders. A word...hung in the air. It was his word. Not its. But who was it? Who was...this? It attempted to turn its palm, to turn towards the glassy obsidian decor to see its face, but was trapped in the memory as it played.

Elu’thai.

A soft accented voice brought forth the word at last. But with it, a sudden return to the frigid desert. Dynami leaned to the rough stone and glanced up once more, before continuing with jerking movement through the passage.

The orb, the orb would be the guide to its Master, to the ones of old, to the mystery of its memory. It glittered in its mind’s eye, just out of reach, somewhere beyond the winding stone cavern.

TAG: Darth Dreadwar ,
SIDE STORY: Dynami

---

IC: Xenot, the Nightbringer
Library, Abandoned Starship, Syned

Though most lived in the well insulated, armed hubs scattered by the Galactic Empire, Xenot did not. Surprising, as he was Hamadryas and hated the cold, even more so when it whistled through the crumbling, rusting durasteel of his home.

A Harrower-class Star Destroyer, rendered inoperable after thousands of years and dozens of battles.

He had little choice in the matter. For every time he attempted to take his leave, his skin burned with the flame of a thousand suns. His eyes, blinded. His joints froze in excruciating pain. And he forgot. Blackness came across him, searing heat, the scream of tinnitus...and he awoke again.

Xenot stumbled to the mirrored cases for holobooks, peering at his gaunt, green cheeks and armoured, leatheris clad figure. Still, nothing. Not a single change in another 400 sunsets. For his age he should have appeared more than aged, decrepit even. He did not remember youth, only vague memories.

His hands reached for the book he was studying prior. Curling them about the edges, he peered up. He had lost count of the years, the days, the moments he had spent trapped in the bizarre prison.

He sat down again, furrowing his emerald brow, reflecting on his glorious war days. Memories that had begun to fade despite his youthful visage. Did they live still? Was his fate entirely illusion? He did not know. He had not found out after decades alone within durasteel walls.
He growled, clutching a hand on his sword, expressing disapproval the sole way an old being without voice could.

He charged. Towards the ice-glazed snows glittering through the large viewports.

Sure enough, it did not end.

The viewport shattered around his form. The cold was only momentary as his body cracked through the ice into layers of snow. Then, the heat, rushing through him. The blackness, overtaking his every sense.

And then he awoke in the same grey-quilted cot, staring at the same flickering bulb, the same solar-powered glow lights marking the fall of night.

Once again his escape had failed.

One day more he was trapped.

TAG: No-one.
SIDE STORY: Xenot the Nightbringer

---

IC: Colu Eriodan
Senate Building, Coruscant

Kya. Kya? The name sounded familiar, vaguely so, but Colu certainly couldn’t place it. He was educated, but not in such arts as History...and not upon Coruscant. He pondered on it momentarily. Nothing came to him, but he did believe Sallacine’s a decent plan. He had none better.

“If you believe that the solution. I do not forsee any harm in it. No-one would expect our presence there.” Colu shrugged most stoically. His white hand markedly contrasted the deep grey of the stall door as he unlocked it, ducking out into the main area. “We surely cannot take any Senate transport. It will be tracked. Do you have your private transportation, sir?”

He peered out the door into the hall. Sun beamed over the asyr and rigelian iris planters, passersby getting caught in the rays. Still as tranquil as the Senate building would ever get. Their best shot to find this professor and hear what he might say.

Colu stepped back out into the door, pacing towards the window. Dark clouds stirred over the horizon, weaving throughout the buildings as threads of blackened silk. A dark omen, some would say, but he was not so superstitious...

TAG: Darth Dreadwar ,
TAGSET: Coruscant

IC Kubjo the Hutt
Kubjo's Space Station, Nar Shaddaa

Kubjo chuckled and clapped a hand strongly on Reaper’s shoulder. He would feel a faint tingle of energy arc from Kubjo’s hand, warning Reaper that he was once again testing the Hutt’s patience. Instead of inflicting bodily harm this time, Kubjo merely gestured with his other hand to the rest of his collection. “Do not concern yourself with your debt to mighty Kubjo at present,” D-3PO interjected when Kubjo’s speech began again. “His interest in the sword is minor compared to his interest in yourselves. The sword is merely intended for you to prove to him that his faith in your abilities is not wasted.” The droid matched Kubjo’s gesture. “As he said before, he is willing to offer you a token to ensure your expedience with the task. Feel free to peruse and acknowledge if something in particular holds your desire. Mighty Kubjo shall be most accommodating for your upcoming adventure.” Kubjo lifted his hand from Reaper’s shoulder and turned back to the empty display case. “As for the sword,” D-3PO continued, “I myself have spent countless hours piecing together fragments of text in order to glean a clue out of what is left. Obviously Jen-Sin Caal was the Jedi who crafted and wielded the sword. Beyond that, the only pieces of useful text left made reference to Ossus, which holds little promise after the ravaging of the Sith Lord Exar Kun, the battle of Corbos, likely where the sword ended up leaving the hand of its owner, and a name.” The lighting in the room seemed to dim momentarily and a cold gust blew seemingly from nowhere.

“Ku’ar Danar.”

The lighting in the room continued to flicker like torchlight and an ethereal whisper of the name echoed through the vault before preternatural silence descended upon the group. D-3PO unceremoniously broke the tension and continued his spiel. “Research into Danar revealed that he was an ancient Jedi who was active during the Second Schism, though he was dismissed as a sorcerer and a dark side user. He relocated to his home planet of Nilrebmah XIII and constructed a Force imbued monolith, which was investigated by the Jedi Uliq Qel-Droma some millennia later. Supposedly Danar’s soul became trapped within the monolith and he was never heard from again. Any further attempts to investigate the monolith have not ended well for the explorers in question. Mighty Kubjo has his doubts that the sword made its way to Nilrebmah though. Likely it was buried in the mines of Corbos. Or it is being guarded by Jedi. Mighty Kubjo knows not.” D-3PO turned to the two men. “And that is where you both come in! Kubjo will gladly provide transport and access to his wealth of informants if it means you will bring him the sword. And, as mentioned before, from his personal collection he is willing to grant you each a gift as a mark of good faith.” Kubjo smiled a warm Hutt smile, knowing each would likely jump first for the Holocron of Darth Gravid. Reaper he could assume would be satisfied with any number of weapons or ships that were stored down here. Corvar was the one he could not ascertain the desires of. He simply waited for each man to respond, wondering if they would attempt to take advantage of his perceived generosity.

TAG: darthkain7,trentongordon,