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Post by Darth Voidwalker on Mar 2, 2018 18:04:24 GMT -5
IC: Voidwalker Hold of the Artificer, Federation checkpoint Voidwalker’s stab missed as the Jedi Shadow turned sideways to dodge his blade. Before Voidwalker could react his lightsaber was shit out of his hand as a result of the kick delivered by the Jedi Shadow. The lightsaber went sailing across the room before hitting a wall and falling to the ground with a metallic clank. As Draven turned turned back to face the Jedi he could see that just past him stood Karina over the body of the second trooper. His quick idea had worked but it came with a price as Voidwalker also seen the body of Garn laying dead on the floor. “You might as well surrender, you’re clearly outnumbered. Ever if your partner did manage to kill one of my allies we still have you surrounded. There’s no way you can take all three of us at once.” Voidwalker extinguished his lightsaber as he tried to convince the Jedi. “Now why don’t you just let us pass without anymore lives being lost?” Voidwalker continued trying to convince the Jedi as he reached out with the Force to locate his second lightsaber, finding it on the far side of the room. “I know you have a job and honor to uphold but is it worth your life just to let us pass? You’re smarter than that, come with us if you can’t stand the thought of going back. There’s more in this galaxy than what you are already. Be more and live for more.” As Voidwalker ended his plea with the Jedi he reached out with an unseen hand through the Force and was ready to launch the saber at a moments notice. TAG: Darth Dreadwar kurtishenschel |
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Shira
Administrator 
.: Empress' Hand
Posts: 135 
Likes: 114
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Post by Shira on Mar 4, 2018 0:33:03 GMT -5
IC: Shira A’dolaThe Triumphant, hyperspace en route to the Nihil Retreat“Mistress.” Vassago graced her with a small nod before resuming. “You’ll find your issues with the cultists, along with their leader, have been resolved.” Shira exhaled quietly, a wave of relief flooding her. Eyes closed in quiet solace as Alisha expressed their thanks on behalf of the Empire. Shira said nothing; her unshielded gratitude would tell this man more than any words she could speak. She nodded along quietly to Gederp’s confirmation, face twitching in dismay at the loss of the pilgrim. “I was hoping she would serve as ambassador, to mediate between us and her....god.” Distaste coloured the word, lingering in the following silence with an air of disapproval. Her people, the Vraeling, customarily believed in the existence of deities. Though more traditional than true devotion, most still found lingering conviction, yet Shira never had. Perhaps the result of her early abduction, an early and abrupt severing from her culture, she had never found the idea and teachings of the gods more than academically interesting. She did not believe in gods. Her vision swam, switching her focus back to the present. The colours of Alisha’s skin began to blend together as a wave of vertigo hit her. When had she last slept? How long had she been battling the cultists? The constant dose of adrenaline and stims had caused time to stream together in chaotic disharmony and the arrivals’ explosive disruption to her Darksight had given her the galaxy’s worst migraine. Nausea swirled in her belly and the very air kissing her skin caused pain. She hid her illness and disorientation with the steel learned through decades of abuse and hardship, certain that not even her student would be aware. She looked down at the durasteel floor and blinked until the hazy colours returned to their proper lines, the action disguised as contemplation. Glancing back, she saw Volshe’s attention still razor-focused on Nox. “You need to get to the med bay,” she murmured gently to Alisha. “Please allow someone to escort you there. Call Xal’den.”She returned her attention to the two newcomers, gazing at them quietly. Allies were made amidst common enemies. Yet, now that the enemy had been vanquished, new and concerning questions were rising to the surface. “You and I need to speak,” she stated softly, addressing Vassago. “Privately, of course. You witness a rare appearance of our Empress. I do not know how long she will stay. Once she returns to whence she came, we’ll speak in my office. Captain,” she turned, addressing Gederp. “She arrived upon Nox’s attack on her Hand. I felt her arrive, but did not see it. She was already here when I entered the hall. I believe she is currently interrogating the sculag. Please make sure she is not interrupted.”She turned back to face her two guests. “Should Lady Tano be deemed fit after she is examined by our medical team, she may join us. Sabba is welcome as well.” She smiled softly at the younger woman, feeling an automatic liking for her, before turning back to her Master. “Should you wish to speak one-on-one, Alisha will help Sabba find some living quarters. I’m sure you could leave as easily as you arrived, but I assume you are here for....a long-term goal. That you will be here awhile.”
TAG: Lord Vassago , Volshe , Darth Dreadwar, Padawan4687
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Post by kurtishenschel on Mar 4, 2018 7:59:38 GMT -5
IC: Karina Hold of the Artificer, Federation checkpoint Karina groaned silently as she got her blades out of the agents corpse and grabbed his blaster as she got to her feet. Noticing the second corpse she sighed out of frustration since with Garn dead that left voidwalker as boss since the captain wasn't all that brave with these sith. Returning her focus to what was going on Karina took a few steps back and raised her blaster aiming it at the back of the Jedi and motioned for whoever else was armed to do the same. If the Jedi didn't stand down she figured he wouldn't be able to block every incoming shot and would probably get killed by the cross fire. Looking to voidwalker she expected him to motion for her to either take the shot or wait since they didn't have all the time in the galaxy to stand around especially after the death of a federal agent. She had to admit this was easily the most eventful and disastrous job she ever had to do. All in one day she found out she had access to the force, got electrocuted, had to humiliate herself by pretending to be the lover of the man who electrocuted her, and now was in the midst of a standoff between two force users while the job wasn't even half done. She had a feeling that things would only get worst the closer they got to the destination and she was okay with that as long as things didn't get worst for her. Returning her focus to the Jedi she knew if they were going to kill him it had to be quick since the Jedi probably wasn't a pushover like the other federal agent who was dead on the ground. Tags: Darth Voidwalker Darth Dreadwar |
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Shira
Administrator
.: Empress' Hand
Posts: 135
Likes: 114
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Post by Shira on Mar 4, 2018 12:24:19 GMT -5
IC: The Twins
Closed passageway, False tomb of Naga Sadow, Korriban
The way is shut...
The whisper echoed through the minds of the Twins, causing a collective shudder, threads of apprehension and trepidation echoing through their Bond.
Footsteps. Footsteps in the dark.
The way is shut.
Kevala looked uneasily behind her. Heat signs mixed together in her infrared vision; beyond that there was only darkness.
The way is shut...
She listened carefully, trying to identify anything other than the party as they walked, crossing corpse after corpse of varying degrees of decay. Noises of irritation emerged as she almost ran into Catalyst as the party stopped ubruptly. Silver eyes rolled, having lost her patience, and she slipped through with Scionica to the front of the party. She was tired of following everyone else around.
A stone wall faced them, filled with archaic and beautiful paintings. Surprise showed openly on her face as she inspected the murals, eyes running over the Aurebesh and indecipherable hieroglyphics. Some of the depicted figures were easily recognizable, others less so. She ignored Jania's query, her attention split between their current plight and the whispering echoes of dream. “On the wall of prophecy, find the circles, one for each exile.” She read along as Catalyst spoke for those in the back of the group. “Press all twelve and secrets of a thirteenth shall be open to you.”
“It means nothing to me,” she stated plainly, blinking in confusion. “Your Sith spells and riddles have no meaning for us and, evidently, neither does our ability as polyglots as clearly you have others for such uses.” A glare was sent towards Catalyst. “I haven’t the faintest idea why we were sent here besides further combatants, but you people seem to have an unholy fascination with deadly traps and it’s beginning to piss me off.”
TAG: Darth Dreadwar , @lordjania , Darth Catalyst , Padawan4687 , Volshe , dice , gorzan
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Post by Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror on Mar 4, 2018 20:26:47 GMT -5
IC: Darth Coatlec
Location: Medbay, Korriban
Dreadwar seemed slightly surprised that Coatlec grasped what was being taught almost instantly. However, he gave a mocking, "three prestige points." Prestige points only matter to initiates. They are unimportant except among the lowest whelps and their masters. I am trying to become a Lord again after that awful tomb humiliation. He's about to give me a long speech. I can feel it. My ears shall be attuned. For the Emperor is wise and powerful. So Coatlec lifted his head to meet the Emperor, and the cold, raspy voice of Dreadwar began to emanate from the empty cowl.
"Oft do we forget the most basic things...a pernicious seed of weakness that has born poisonous fruit in your prideful heart, Lord Coatlec: do not teach students to throw until you have taught them to fall," spoke the magnificient Emperor. It makes sense. One of the first rules of any martial art self defense is learning to fall. It can be applied here. "I...must not continue to teach you to fight if you do not first understand how to lose, for it is the nature of life that you shall lose far more often than you shall win. And indeed, you cannot exploit the lessons of failure to achieve victory in the future, without first mastering defeat." I see what he means here. One must have experience losing before one can truly achieve victory. To truly win. And everyone knows I quite enjoy winning.
"My Emperor," spoke the bastard Lord. "Where did you learn to lose?" "I learned how to lose in a monastery on Palawa," he replied plainly. "over seven thousand years ago. I was a man, then...bearing the name my mother gave me: Ku'ar Danar." So my deduction in the tomb was correct. Dreadwar, Dread Lord, Dan'ari, Danar. Of course I was right. It's very simple indeed. I wonder how many others now since I never told anyone down there. Well at least I got one thing right down there in that godforsaken place. Glad I'm out of there.
"The Followers of Palawa were one of many traditions of the Forceful I had courted in my expeditions beyond known space, and the Master of that dojo taught a martial art with a reputation for adapting well to usage of the Force - and countering the techniques of the Jedi. If I told you its reputation survives to this day, by the name Teräs Käsi, I am sure you would appreciate why I left my exploration of the Naos Asteroid Belt to study there," the Emperor continued. "Indeed, Teräs Käsi is still well respected. It is quite the counter to many Force users. I certainly understand why you went to study there," said the Illustrious bastard.
Dreadwar's long monologue continued. Coatlec couldn't recall the exact words, but the Emperor told the stories of himself being humiliated and beaten at the hands of other students. He spoke of how the academy is no longer there because of a lone Dark Lord of the Sith that defeated and killed all the students and the master. The last words of his lecture would stick with Coatlec for eternity. "But what is deadlier than hate, and flows without limit? Indifference," were the wise words of Dreadwar. "Lord Coatlec, what precisely did you do wrong in the tomb?" "There was much, my Emperor," spoke the bastard Lord. "First was my lofty introduction. Then I left the team to look for an ice grenade because that is what Revan used to cross the acid pool. I mouthed off to Lady Viscretus and proceeded to engage her in a duel, and was drained. I again left the team during the bout with 'Praetor' to go down the Vacuus passageway looking for artifacts and had my head nearly severed. Then something strange happened and my power was restored. Seemed like the Void itself. But back to wrongdoing, Viscretus asked about unworthy Sith. I chose Xirr and proceeded to drain him. I was met with stiff opposition of Catalyst, Apollyon, and Viscretus. The latter two drained me and threw me down a tunnel. I thought I'd be gored and eaten by shyracks but I woke up here. Perhaps there was more I did wrong, my Lord, but this is what I recall." Oh my, I really did mess up a lot down in that damn tomb. I must rise above the mistakes and be better in the future. It is tough, but I must fail first in order to truly win.
TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Lord Vassago
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Darth Catalyst
Citizen
Dark Lord Immortalis & High Inquisitor
.: Chaos and Cunning
Handling the Hand
Posts: 248 
Likes: 276
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Post by Darth Catalyst on Mar 4, 2018 21:08:25 GMT -5
Combo between darthferos and Darth Catalyst
IC: Darth FerosDocking Bay 418
Nar Shaddaa
The man at the top of the ramp looked down at Feros. "Can I help you, son?" That irked Feros in a way he couldn't really describe. But the man wouldn't be the issue if things went south. It would be the Besalisk. He had more blasters than a Mando war band. And four arms to use them. Feros decided if it came to it, he'd make sure the big fellow left with a few less. And then Feros noticed the Force Auras on the other YV-666 as it flew by. Taking off judging by the speed. He noted the tail number. He could check the manifest and destination on that later if needed, and he intended to. For now he was focused in the aura inside this ship, who he could now feel was a Zeltron male. "Perhaps you can Captain Reyn." Feros smiled and blinked to be sure his eyes had gone back to a normal color. He had also done a bit of probing with the Force. "I'll only be a minute, but I'm wondering if I could have a word with your pilot." He put a bit of Force energy into the last words. A bit of added persuasion. "I noticed the way he handled the big freighter coming in and I'd like some tips. I'm a bit of an avid flyer myself." Not a total lie. Darth Feros was a kriffing good fighter pilot. "I can't promise he'll give you any tips that'll be worth your while but you're more than welcome to talk to him. Zo, go get your man." The woman next to him nodded, almost as if he was a military commander giving her a direct order. "Sir," she assented before walking back into the ship. "I'm not seein' the logic in this Captain," the Besalisk whispered loud enough for Feros to hear. "An' how'd he know your name?" "Cate, we're famous obviously," Jag whispered back before flashing a smile at Feros. Seconds later, the woman returned being followed by Zeltron in a garish orange shirt that was matched only by the intensity of his orange hair. Feros would be able to feel the Force through him but something was... off. "Heard you wanted an autograph," the Zeltron quipped with a snarky grin. "Where do I sign?" Something wasn't right. And Feros realized what it was. Whoever here was Force Sensitive was screening it. It was an old method, but it worked. Screening was a method by which a Force user would project the Force into everyone around them so the signature couldn't be traced. And whoever was doing it was good. Darth Feros had no clue who it was. But he knew a way to find out. Whoever was doing it would also be blocking him from their mind. But they couldn't do that for someone else. Feros reached out with the Dark Side and touched each mind, commanding all of the simultaneously to say one word. "Tuk'ata." Whoever didn't say the word was the one screening and mind blocking. Everyone else would have no choice. And the one mind blocking wouldn't even know the word. Darth Feros had come a long way. He wasn't leaving empty handed. He wasn't going to tell Darth Maladi he had failed. She'd make him beg for death. She was an artist in the ways of Force Torture. And Feros would have none of that. So he reached out with the Force, implanted the word, and waited. As Feros implanted the word, each person in front of him seemed to go blank for a second. "Tuk'ata," each of them mumbled in turn, starting with the Zeltron, then the two humans, and finally, mispronounced by the Besalisk. They all shook their beads briefly and exchanged confused glances. The captain narrowed his eyes and looked bach at Feros dubiously. "You don't wanna do this, son," he warned before slowly putting his hands in the air. "Trust me, it won't end how you want it to." The woman next to him and the Zeltron slowly followed suit with their hands but the Besalisk kept his arms crossed. Feros understood now. It was the one that wasn't present. The Twi'lek girl. She was inside checking the hyperdrive, trying to lay low. That made sense. Even though the besalisk had mispronounced the word, he wouldn't have even known it without a mind implant. Now that that was figured out, the newest issue should be addressed. There were now four armed combatants in front of him. Well three. The besalisk seemed unmoved. Something was off about him. "Wait." Feros thought to himself. There's more than one. Darth Feros now realized that he was indeed standing face to face with four armed combatants. But only three would use blasters. The besalisk would use the lightsabers he was hiding under his second set of hands. He would use them because he was Jedi. Feros laughed at the captain. Almost felt bad for him. The besalisk was young, no more than twenty, maybe twenty two standard years old. He would have just been knighted. And the blasters and their wielders would pose little threat. The captain wore cortosis under his shirt. Feros could see it bulking out. The other two wore nothing. And the besalisk wouldn't be wearing armor. And he wouldn't use the blasters, who's power packs Feros now saw weren't even lit up to show a charge. "In light of recent discoveries, Captain Reyn, I think maybe I do." Feros ignited his lightsaber and dashed forward at the besalisk, going to lock blades with him. He used a one handed Makashi down stroke. That left him one hand free. And that hand he used to command the Corellian captain through the Force to press his old DX-2 disruptor pistol against the Jedi's head as soon as their blades locked, and fire. As Feros's blade came down towards the surprised Besalisk who was simply attempting to sidestep the blow instead of block it, a girl's scream rang out from the ship. "NOOOOO!!!" With the scream, a wave of telekinetic power blasted down the ramp, lifting and sending the humans and the Zeltron tumbling down the ramp, knocking the Besalisk to the ground and revealing that he had no lightsabers strapped to his weapon harness, and potentially launching Feros through the air while his mind was occupied trying to influence the captain's. Feros realized he was flying. That wasn't right. And he'd misjudged the besalisk. Whoever this Twi'lek girl was, she was ridiculously strong. But that wasn't the immediate issue. He was flying. Feros let go of the Captain's mind, opened himself to the Dark Side, and rolled backwards with the motion, coming down gently on his feet, then went to work. First, a Force Shield. He wasn't going flying again unless he was behind Skorn's control yoke. And then he would deal with the crew. The young Twi'lek girl had made two major mistakes when she had hit them with that blast. First, she had dropped concentration on her screening, and Feros could now tell she was the only member of the crew that could touch the Force. And secondly, she had shown she cared about the crew. Truly cared. She had risked injuring them to save their lives. Now Feros was going to use that against her to achieve his goal. The pain it would cause her was only a pleasant little bonus. As the rest of the crew began righting themselves, they looked back up at the ship. Standing there on the loading ramp was a teenage girl, long dark hair falling down and obscuring parts of her face and an ill-fitting dress covering her torso. She looked up at Feros. Where there should have been eyes, there were only empty sockets. Miraluka. And she absolutely radiated raw Force power. "You were going to hurt my friends," she spoke softly, but her voice carried unnaturally through the bay. "You need to go away." Darth Feros looked at the girl. She seemed probably 15 standard years. Though he didn't know for sure. And it didn't matter. She was his mission. Somehow Darth Maladi new she would be here. How didn't matter either. She was coming with him. She would be a fine addition to the Sith. And today she would learn her first lesson about the Dark Side. "No, I'm not going anywhere. Not without you. You can either come peacefully, or I'll kill all of your friends one by one." He looked at her and smiled a charming smile. Not that she could see it. Not in a traditional sense anyway. She was Miraluka. They didn't see anything. They had no eyes. "Now. You tell me which of these options sounds the best to you. I don't care either way." Feros said as he ignited his lightsaber. The girl raised one of her hands, pointing at Feros. "You're a liar, Feros." The unnatural volume to her voice was gone, replaced with an almost playful air. "That's what you call yourself right? What they call you? It's not your real name. Sith don't have real names. All of theirs are made up." She lowered her arm again. "You're afraid. Afraid of her. Afraid of Him." The sockets of her eyes closed. "They all are." She began stepping down the ramp, gingerly placing one bare foot in front of the other. "I'm not the one you came for." She raised her finger again, pointing past Feros and directly at Corvar, who had just stepped into the bay entrance. "He is." TAG: darthkain7 , darthferos
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Post by Lord Vassago on Mar 4, 2018 22:57:02 GMT -5
IC: Darth Vassago and SabbaAboard The Triumphant, hyperspace, en route to the Nihil RetreatCaptain Gederp echoed the Dark Lord’s word, confirming that the cultists were cleared from the ship. Lady Shira appeared relieved at the confirmation from her Captain, quietly nodding along with his words. There was a small break in the conversation, one that did not involve him, as Shira looked back to her crew and began directing them. It was business as usual with the cultist neutralized, and the step by step management of a vessel was of no concern to the man. His mind began to wander… He was tired. Not only physically, but a bit mentally. He didn’t care to admit it to himself, in fact he rarely would, but his bones were old. Life was only just beginning to settle when Dreadwar’s agent showed up on Terminus, the even pace of daily life was upset that day, and he knew his life was about to turn upside down. He breathed a laugh to himself, forgetting for a moment he was surrounded by others, thinking just a handful of hours ago he was meditating in a hut he’d built, peace and quiet around him. Very little to distract him. Yet, in that moment of introspective thought, he found himself surrounded by strangers, Captains, an Empress, Ladies, and the like. Just like that, he was back in the thick of it all. The game he’d spent years and years distancing himself from had sucked him back in. “ You and I need to speak,” the Lady Shira spoke directly to him, breaking the haze he was momentarily in. She went on, detailing the rarity of the Empress’ appearance among them, and suggested they be accompanied by her associate, Lady Tano. Sabba looked up to her Master at the mention of her name, her eyes eagerly widened at the idea of being able to sit in on her Master’s dealing. The thought didn’t bother him; however his reasons for being on board were his own, and the fewer people knew of his intentions, the better. “ Sabba will remain with me,” he replied matter-of-factly, his eyes finding Shira’s the instant his words left his lips. “ Being that you are the commanding officer, my purpose aboard this vessel only concerns you. Your associate will not be necessary.” It was clear by his tone that the Dark Lord’s feelings on the situation were final; he didn’t trust anyone among them to watch after Sabba, so she would remain by his side, and his quest to Dreadwar was of no concern to anyone but him…perhaps not even to Lady Shira. He’d not decided what exactly he’d be sharing with her, but he knew that he didn’t need any other prying ears or eyes in the room… TAG: Shira , Volshe , Darth Dreadwar All Triumphant Tag.
IC: Warlord Zhav'vorsa Imperial Medbay, Sith Temple, KorribanZhav’vorsa was, for lack of a better title, a stranger in a strange land. He’d come to Korriban at the beckoning of another, not by his own design. To say he was unfamiliar with the traditions of the Sith on Korriban, of the Dark Lords and Ladies, of the Emperor himself, that was putting it mildly. He’d heard tell of the terrible powers of the fabled Emperor, of the hallowed Korriban Lords of the Sith, but he’d never witnessed any of their feats firsthand. When he heard the Emperor speak to his lesser Lord, Zhav took a moment to listen, as well. Though he was not being instructed directly, as thoroughly as this Coatlec was, he knew the Emperor’s words had a purpose for him, too. He was not that foolish. He stood, chin squared, broad chest out, looking down his nose to the Sith beside him, his hands still resting on the hilt of the mighty sword. His eyes would shift between the Lord being addressed and the Emperor from time to time, doing his best to take in the lesson at hand. The talk of learning to fall, learning to fail…it was completely alien to Zhav’vorsa. In his culture, failure meant death at the hands of the Clan. As Warlord, or Battlelord to some, he would be skewered alive for such teachings, for promoting such a belief system. To him, this was folly, weakness. But, it was clear the Emperor and Zhav’vorsa were two vastly different beings. The Warlord’s ears perked up at a particular bit from the Emperor, a clear message to him. He spoke of true and terrible power, the ability to kill with spells alone. Zhav was familiar with the Force, the magick of the witches from his home planet of Dathomir, and the incredible potential, though he’d never witnessed such a feat as complete death of an entire dojo with simply the whispering of a spell. That was power untold…power untapped. Power he could use, that he wanted. His eyes flickered, gleaming a bit at the thought. He’d not considered harnessing the magick as such a powerful tool, a powerful weapon. He was intrigued, to say the very least. He received the message from the Emperor, the clear declaration of dominance, of superior power, one he was not exactly square with, but he was not about to test himself against an opponent boasting such feats with next to no knowledge of the truth of it all. He remained, standing tall, breathing steadily, waiting for the two to complete their lesson. Waiting, perhaps, for some proof of these words. TAG: Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror , Darth Dreadwar
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Post by darthkain7 on Mar 4, 2018 23:44:16 GMT -5
IC: Darth Kain Location: Nar Shaddaa Corvar had been watching the show since the beginning of the fighting, not intervening in the slightest. Instead, he watched. Waited. He analyzed the rogue Sith's movements, memorizing them and identifying them in his mind. He waited until the Miraluka girl came into view, and something in him made him move towards the action. His lightsaber was still clipped to his belt, concealed beneath a pocket in his robes. He didn't plan on using it. Corvar removed his hood as he approached, revealing his thick black hair and his striking emerald eyes. He began to overhear the conversation between the Sith and this strangely powerful Miraluka, enough so that he caught the Sith's name. Feros. Then the Miraluka pointed at him, saying that the Sith had come for him. Strange. This was not the Sith he had met with before, and having another Sith intervene in Corvar's plan didn't seem right. Perhaps she was mistaken. Perhaps she was just trying to distract Feros so her friends could escape. Regardless, Corvar wasn't going to have either's sights set on him. "Here for me? Why would he be? He and I are on the same side," Corvar said, giving a knowing wink to Feros, making it seem as if they knew one another. Hopefully the Sith would catch on. "You, however," Corvar continued, "are undeniably rooted in the light side of the Force. If you will not submit to the will of Darth Feros, then your friends will die. And then you will share their fate." Meanwhile, Corvar pressed the button on a device wrapped around his wrist, signalling both D-3P0 and Reaper that he was in a troublesome situation. TAGS: Darth Catalyst darthferos trentongordon TAGSET: Corbos |
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Post by trentongordon on Mar 5, 2018 1:00:33 GMT -5
IC: Reaper Location: Nar Shaddaa Before Reaper could buy what he wanted he was alerted that Corvar was in trouble. He sighed and was slightly irritated. He hasn't been prepared for a fight hadn't brought his light saber nor his mask. He quickly turned and began unwrapping the silk from around his arm and soon wrapped it around his face hiding all but his eye's. He then followed the presence that was Corvar's. Soon he arrived but stayed at a distance to watch. He simply sat down and viewed his possible opponent's while watching Corvar. He then holoed D-3P0 "D-3P0 if you could, go into my room and grab my stuff and bring it to me and pick up some paint and tinted shielded glass for Form II. That would be much appreciated, and make it quick will you?!" He then ended it sending only that message. He stood up and walked a bit closer unwrapping his face once more to remain inconspicuous and then rewrapped it around his arm. He kept his head down as he walked closer but still looked out of the corner of his eye to watch. Tag: Darth Catalyst, darthkain7 |
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Post by darthferos on Mar 5, 2018 3:11:34 GMT -5
IC: Darth Feros Docking Bay 418 Nar Shaddaa Feros listened to the Miraluka girl, noticing another dark Force presence had joined the fray. "I'm not the one you came for. He is." The girl said as she pointed past him. Feros didn't take his eyes off her. That wasn't mistake he was about to make. "Perhaps he is. But now you've caught my attention. And I'm not leaving this docking bay without you either dead, or in tow." Darth Feros started to walk towards the Miraluka, matching her pace. She was strong, but she wouldn't catch him off guard again. And now, he wanted to hurt her. To cause her pain. He would enjoy it. "As for my name. Careth Ka died when he was a young boy. I am what was reborn. And I'm not going to talk philosophy with you. As for fear, I'm sorry but I haven't the slightest idea who 'her' or 'him' are. So no, I'm not afraid of them. The only ones afraid here are you and your crew. Their fear is almost intoxicating. If you had eyes you could see it plastered on their faces like flimsy on a sign post." Feros knew what he was going to do. And he saw his opening. He sprang suddenly over the Miraluka and landed behind Captain Reyn. Then Feros simply reached out to tap the man's armor with his lightsaber hilt. Darth Catalyst darthkain7 trentongordon |
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Mar 5, 2018 23:03:11 GMT -5
IC: Darth Dreadwar the Magnificent, Emperor of the SithImperial Medbay, Sith Temple, Korriban - and Darth Coatlec's future nightmares"That is scarcely precise enough," Dreadwar replied sharply. "You focus on surface events, betraying the superficiality of your young mind, the shallowness of your intellect. You must go deeper; in order to attain a higher level of understanding, you must descend to a lower level of analysis - the level on which we might perform the greatest and darkest arts of the Sith." Although the hood was as inscrutably empty as ever, Coatlec would get the strong sense Dreadwar was smiling. "The method of rationality. The power of clear thinking. The most dread ritual," Dreadwar paused for effect, "of scientific analysis." Dreadwar turned towards the Warlord intermittently as he continued, making it clear his lecture was for the benefit of both of them. "I will describe what you did wrong precisely, Lord Coatlec. There are many beasts which indulge in what we call dominance contests. They rush at each other with horns - trying to knock each other down, not gore each other. They fight with their paws - with claws sheathed. But why with their claws sheathed? Surely, if they used their claws, they would stand a better chance of winning? But then, you see, their enemy might unsheathe their claws as well, and instead of resolving the dominance contest with a winner and a loser, both of them might be severely injured or killed, thus losing everything." For a hollow, rasping whisper, it was surprisingly easy for Dreadwar to convey a genial tone of gentle condescension. "What you demonstrated in the tomb, child, is that, unlike those beasts who keep their claws sheathed and accept the results, you do not know how to lose a dominance contest. When the Head of Sith Intelligence challenged you, you did not back down. When it looked like you might lose, you unsheathed your claws, heedless of the danger. You escalated, and then you escalated again. It started with a jibe at you from Lady Viscretus, who was obviously dominant over you. Instead of losing, you fought back, and lost your youth and power. Soon you were rushing headlong into danger. The fact that you escalated even further, and somehow survived the completely predictable consequences of senselessly attacking your fellow Lord Xirr, does not change the fact that you are a fool of an idiot who has no concept of the dominance hierarchy. And before I teach you to climb it, I must first teach you how to fall from a rung on its ladder." Dreadwar folded his powerful arms, the movement rippling the dark fabric of his cloak. "It is for your own benefit, child. The next time you choose to escalate a contest rather than lose, you may lose your footing on every rung on the ladder, all the stakes you place on the table - and perhaps your life with it. You already lost far too much in the tomb. You may protest that you were trying to defend all my Hand's team from the predations of the eeevil Viscretus, a much more important goal than mere childish pride, worthy of great risk and valour. That is a lie. If you had been... you would have taken the slap, waited, and picked the best possible time to make your move. But that would have meant losing. Letting a woman be dominant over you." Dreadwar uncrossed his arms, leaning forward. The spectral exhalations of black breath washed over hoary Coatlec, carrying the charnel scent of ash and decay. "You claim you now understand this lesson, Lord Coatlec. But words are words. Words do not beget understanding. Losing begets understanding. And so, Lord Coatlec," Dreadwar paused maliciously, "today you are going to learn how to lose."
Conflict and Loss - The Dread Lesson
The Emperor snapped his gauntleted fingers. "Warlord, step forward," he hissed. The empty hood returned to regard Coatlec. There was no trace of pity or recourse. "My young apprentice," Dreadwar whispered, "this is the greatest and most difficult lesson I was taught - and now bequeath unto you. You are to stand still as this primal beast does to you what he sees fit. Anything short of mortal or permanent injury he may, and will at my command, inflict upon you. Any humiliation, any insult, physical or verbal. And you must not raise your hand or your tongue to reply injury for injury. You must, instead, lose." The room was as cold as ice. "You must beg for mercy, admit his superiority, degrade yourself before him until, perhaps, he is content you are so pathetic and helpless and pitiable that it is no longer fun for him to wrack humiliation and ruin upon your mind and body. And when Warlord Zhav'vorsa decides you have lost, utterly and completely, he may elect to stop. But whether that takes twoscore minutes and five, or many an hour, I cannot say - and if you maintain any measure of pride or resistance, I may permit him to humble you in ways barbaric even to his people." The intimation hung heavy in the air as the Dread-King stepped forward, towering over Coatlec. "You stink of fear, Lord Coatlec," he hissed, continuing. "Fear... and piss , and old bones." The Emperor placed a fatherly hand on the bastard's shoulder as he spoke, then, as he finally concluded his monologue, his gauntlet rose to tap Coatlec on his wrinkled cheek. It was not even a light slap - there was no pain or sound associated with it at all - but it was merely the condescending tap that a schoolyard bully might execute to embarrass his powerless victim. To bring out the hot flush of anger in the chest, the tightening of the throat in humiliation. "How does that make you feel, child? Knowing you can do nothing about it?" The invisible smile stretched. "Are you ready to become intimately familiar with this feeling? Are you ready, Lord Coatlec... to learn how to lose?" TAG: Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror , Lord Vassago
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Post by Deleritas on Mar 6, 2018 0:00:08 GMT -5
Combo Post with Darth Solus IC: Darth Deleritas Part VIII Location: Beneath the Citadel, Kaas City, Dromund Kaas "Well…this is pretty much a dead end. What do you propose?" I asked Solus. If there are no doors and no windows, what is the point of entering either of these rooms? Obviously, the one with the more comfortable temperature is going to be the more dangerous one in the end. I vote that we try and get to the center of that room. But, let's see what Solus has to say on the matter, first. I stood staring into the barren room. Scouring the walls, the floor and the ceiling. Hoping that something would jump out and/or change. "Perhaps the cooler spot in the center of the floor has some significance." Solus said having left the other door. "If we jump to it, we could both stand in the center and not be hurt by the heat. But, I don't know what good that would do us." Luckily, with my mask on, the shock wasn't nearly as apparent as it would have been. The surprise registered on my face almost instantly. "All due respect, sir. But I'm not sure I can make it. I am concerned with the precision of my landing. Given the fact that this room appears to be roughly the same size as the one we are currently in, it's safe to say that it is approximately a five-foot jump. That's no big deal. However, that cool section in the middle can't be more than two by two. It will be very difficult the two of us to be standing there at the same time." I stated with some bitterness in my voice. I struggled to contain my disappointment with the fact that the insurmountable obstacle in our way currently was just a room with a searing hot floor. I get it. Darth Nostrem was a genius in his time. But, if he built this Citadel to be a master centerpiece of sorts for the Sith Empire, then there is no way that all is as it seems. There is more to this labyrinth that we haven't uncovered yet. "Yes, I see your points. Actually, they are concerns I have as well. Another concern I have is that floor around that 'cold' patch is going to fall away. We may be left on a balancing platform and therefore I would like to prepare for that possibility." Solus responded. I understood what he meant by what could happen upon our landing in the room. But, I didn't quite understand how we could prepare for the jump. "Hold my Nikta, sir." With that, I leapt forward into the room. Eyes locked on the cool patch in the center and willing myself to land right in the middle of said portion of the floor. Time seemed to slow down around me as I flew through the air. My heart rate was slow and staccato in my ears. About halfway through the jump, the intensity of the heat truly set in. Instantaneously, I began to sweat profusely. It was nearly unbearable. I just prayed that I would land where I needed to… Darth Catalyst Darth Solus |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 6, 2018 0:08:34 GMT -5
IC: Darth Solus
Location: Dromund Kaas CitadelPeering into the cold empty room Solus can’t help but feel disappointment. I guess we are going to have to immerse ourselves in the heat. Turning on his heels he walks back over to his apprentice and looks into the room. The dull stagnant smell is only exaggerated by the heat radiating from the room. He flips to the heat and is quickly assaulted by the bright red that radiates from the room.
“Well, this is pretty much a dead end what do you propose?”His apprentice’s words echoed in his mind for a moment. It was true that this seemed like a dead end, but nothing seemed special about the center of the room before them. There was a “cold” patch. It was barely large enough for the two of them to fit, but it seemed like they would. They would have to jump and they would have to be precise. Solus’ had no clue what danger the heat would bring, but he was nowhere near in the mood to starve and wait. “Perhaps that cooler spot in the center of the room has some significance. If we jump to it, we could both stand in the center and not be hurt by the heat, but I don’t know what good that would do us.”“All do respect, sir. But I’m not sure I can make it. O am concerned with the precision of my landing. Given that this room appears to be roughly the same size as the one we are currently in, it’s safe to say that it’s approximately a five foot jump. That’s not big deal, however that cool section in the middle can’t be more than two by two. It will be very difficult for the two of us to be standing there.”Everything that Deleritas was saying made sense. In fact, they were also the concerns that Solus had. Perhaps I could attempt to freeze the ground, but I fear the heat is too intense. They were going to have to jump and Solus knew that, perhaps guiding his apprentice to have the confidence he needs is what Solus must do as a master. “Yes, I see your points. Actually, they are concerns I have as well. Another concern I have is that the floor around that “cold” patch is going to fall away. We may be left on a balancing platform and therefore I would like to prepare for that possibility.”“Hold my Nikta, sir.”Deleritas leapt from his spot aiming for the center of the heat soaked room. Solus simply smiled under his mask. Ah, the stories we will tell. Solus’ eyes watch closely as Deleritas lightly flies through the air. The sudden jump was a surprise that Solus was glad to see. Without hesitation Deleritas leapt for the only option they had. Although Solus was absolutely willing to jump first his apprentice’s spring to action was exactly what this master had hoped to see, and exactly what he saw when searching for an apprentice. Now Solus only waited to see if his apprentice would land. If he did, Solus would be ready to follow suite. A master following his apprentice. Ha looks like another first for me. In this moment Solus was proud. Now he only prepared and waited to see how it would play out. Darth Catalyst, Deleritas
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Darth Catalyst
Citizen
Dark Lord Immortalis & High Inquisitor
.: Chaos and Cunning
Handling the Hand
Posts: 248
Likes: 276
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Post by Darth Catalyst on Mar 7, 2018 11:14:34 GMT -5
IC The Crew of the Tranquility Docking Bay 418, Nar Shaddaa
The Miraluka girl simply continued stepping forward as Corvar approached. She seemed to be ignoring Feros at this point. “You are not Sith, Corvar,” she spoke directly to him. “You aspire to be, though you haven’t been accepted into their fold. You search for belonging in this ‘verse and think they will grant you a place.” Her face angled downwards and her brow furrowed. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “They will kill you when you no longer have purpose.” As Feros was leaning down towards Captain Reyn, the Corellian kicked himself into a backwards somersault, extending one of his legs and aiming a kick for Feros’s hand. He completed his roll and sprang to his feet, pistol drawn and pointed at Feros. It looked like he was chewing on something as well, though neither of the darksiders had seen him put anything in his mouth. It looked like the rest of the crew was back on their feet as well and weapons were being brandished. The female had a sawn off blaster rifle and the Besalisk drew two pistols and a wicked looking rifle among his four arms. Each of them also had something in their mouths.
“Now look,” the captain spoke up, “We ain’t looking to fight. We just want a nice, quiet shore leave without some karking darksiders hunting us for once. Is that too much to ask for?” As the words traveled across the bay, a positive, calming feeling washed over everyone, centered around the Zeltron. Adrenaline dropped and serotonin and dopamine rapidly increased, making any thoughts of aggression difficult to maintain. “If it’s just the girl you want, all you need to do is ask nicely. Nobody walks out of here with a structurally superfluous new behind, and she gets to be your problem. Brought us nothin’ but trouble since we brought her on.” The captain kept his pistol trained on Feros as he spoke. “Just let us walk out of here and there won’t be a problem.”
Suddenly from around the corner, D-3PO strolled into the bay carrying Reaper’s belongings in a decorative canvas tote that very obviously did not belong to him. “Hello Mister Corvar! I received your distress signal and also a very rude message from Mister Reaper. You’ve attracted some local color I see.” The silver droid looked directly at Feros. “And you must be the representative that Mighty Kubjo called for! Very delighted to make your acquaintance! I am D-3PO, programmed for translation and organic relations. Er.. I’m afraid I don’t recognize you. I expected the Lady Maladi would send someone with more of a distinguished background, but I suppose you’ll suffice. How shall I call you?”
TAG: darthkain7,trentongordon,darthferos,
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Post by darthferos on Mar 7, 2018 11:41:45 GMT -5
The Captain wound up behind Feros somehow. How the kriff did that happen? He was better than this. And then some sort of wave tried to wash over him. Something in the Light Side. He pulled the Dark Side into him, burning the Light away. No. He would not be robbed of a kill this day. He was vaguely aware of the Captain saying something, pleading for a non-confrontation of some sort. No. He was going to kill the crew. At least one of them. And then he heard the Droid. "How shall I address you?" Maladi apparently hadn't told them anything about Feros. This was annoying. "Darth Feros. You can call me Darth Feros Droid." He said, seeming to relax as he faced the captain. "And Corvar, if you truly wish to be Sith one day, grab the girl. Surely you can handle that, I assume. I'm going to handle this." Darth Feros, lightsaber still ignited, faced the Captain. "Captain Reyn, one of us isn't leaving here alive. You've seen my face, and you know who I'm affiliated with and who I work for. Either you and your crew, or I, have to die. I wish I could say I'm sorry. But I'm not." With that, Feros went from perfectly relaxed, to putting on a burst of force speed, winding up right beside the Captain, and bringing his lightsaber across in a lateral swipe. Darth Catalyst darthkain7 trentongordon |
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Post by darthkain7 on Mar 7, 2018 12:40:36 GMT -5
IC: Darth KainLocation: Nar ShaddaaCorvar had learned enough about Zeltrons in his travels to realize that this wave of good feeling was not caused by some machination of the Force, but instead the natural pheromones that all Zeltrons produced. It was a more... natural means of mind control. But like most methods of mind control, such things could be fought off if one knew that they were being manipulated from the get-go. Had the Zeltron simply requested that his crew survive in place of this Miraluka girl, Corvar would have considered it. After all, the death of innocents wasn't always necessary in the quest for power that he had taken. But now that he knew the Zeltron had tried manipulating him, and now that Feros intended to kill the crew anyways, it seemed Corvar would have to eliminate this ship crew. Partly because he wasn't about to side against a Sith, and partly out of revenge. He turned to the Miraluka, not yet drawing his lightsaber, though quite prepared to call it into his grasp should she attack. "I don't want to have to hurt you unnecessarily," he said, keeping his voice level, "but you have to come with us. Surrender peacefully and I will bargain with Feros for the lives of this crew." TAGS: Darth Catalyst trentongordon darthferos TAGSET: Corbos
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Darth Catalyst
Citizen
Dark Lord Immortalis & High Inquisitor
.: Chaos and Cunning
Handling the Hand
Posts: 248
Likes: 276
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Post by Darth Catalyst on Mar 7, 2018 15:32:35 GMT -5
IC Darth NostremCitadel Catacombs, Kaas CityDeleritas’s Force-assisted jump and descent landed him squarely in the center of the room. As his feet touched the almost unbearably hot stone floor, the entire slab seemed to shift, balancing precariously under Deleritas’s feet. Deleritas would have to take care to steady himself, lest the entire floor gave way below him. Nostrem’s mad cackle besieged the two men again. “A magnificent design, wouldn’t you agree, my Lords?” There was venom in the emphasis of his address. “When the Emperor commissioned my architectural knowledge, he commended the sustainability of my energy solution. I opted for a fairly archaic design, but one that compliments the fiery of the passion of the Dark Side well.” The phantom stepped out of the wall and onto the slab that Deleritas stood on. A chaotic smile adorned his features and he made a show of stepping down heavily on the floor in an attempt to scare Deleritas into compensating for his lack of weight. “I harnessed the very power of the planet itself to keep the Empire burning bright. Below you flows a river of molten stone, carved into place by the will of the Force and running into my superior generators.” He began sinking into the floor. “The likes of which you will tragically not survive to see. I’m afraid you will simply become fuel for the great machine when it lives again!” Another ghostly laugh echoed from the spirit as he disappeared beneath the floor. TAG: Darth Solus, Deleritas,
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Post by trentongordon on Mar 7, 2018 21:13:41 GMT -5
IC: Reaper Location: Nar Shaddaa Reaper was glad D-3P0 could make it but he didn't want his face being seen so he sent a force push towards all of them, the crew and his allies and then he ran to D-3P0 to get his stuff as he kept his face down. "D-3P0 it's me thanks for getting my stuff but look away." He said unfolding his gear quickly putting the mask on and then everything else as fast as he could. He then put his lightsaber right where I belonged on his hip. As he finished he turned around and looked at everyone. He analyzed the situation but had also felt that attempt at manipulation. It was a good one but not one that could calm his inner rage and so he instead took to an outer mask, another one in another form. He'd pretend it was working. He walked forward and put his hand on Feros' shoulder and spoke in a tone that was welcoming and soft. "Let us leave them. The Miraluka is not worth it." He then sent images to Corvar's mind about the "plan" so to speak and even sent them to Feros. His plan was to pretend to pay for the troubles and offer their lightsabers as "penance" but then in reality they'd be getting close. Two of them would send a wave of Force Pull and Corvar would use his Pyrokinesis. They could then kill those who are useless and stop those they want to spare by Telekinesis. By those he meant to spare he meant those who could be sold as either slaves and the Miraluka. He turned to the Captain and removed his mask slowly. He then smiled a fake smile at the Captain. The smile held a promise of kindness and invited them to put their weapons away. "The Miraluka shall come with us and you shall all leave. Never to be bothered by us again. Sound fair Captain?" He held his hand out to the Captain still smiling. Tag: Darth Catalyst, darthkain7, darthferos |
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Mar 7, 2018 23:26:37 GMT -5
COMBO WITH VOLSHE
IC: Darth Apollyon and Darth ViscretusThe Wall of Prophecy, False Tomb of Naga Sadow, Korriban
As the Triumphant knifed through the churning sea of hyperspace, the ember of Viscretus' power igniting the connection with the Vahlan peon briefly flickered. Nox would feel himself falter, as the scene grew hazy and dark around the edges. It would take some measure of concentration to blink back the blackness, but as soon as he did so, the mental scenery would restore itself to crispness. Capitalising on the moment, Viscretus was able to focus on the wall she joined Apollyon in standing before. “On this wall of prophecy," Catalyst read the Aurebesh lettering aloud, "find the circles, one for each exile. Press all twelve and the secrets of a thirteenth shall be upon to you.” He paused a moment to frown before continuing. “Circles for each exile. I’m guessing that refers to the Exiles that became the first Lords of the Sith. I’m no scholar, and I’m not certain if the circles are to be taken literally or if there’s a deeper riddle at play here.” "Given the spider room featured the names of the twelve Exiles, I would agree with your interpretation, Lord Catalyst," Apollyon said, worry discolouring the usual lightness of her tone. "I cannot think of a metaphorical meaning for circles." She tapped a finger on her chin as her onyx eyes flicked over the wall's detail. “So who are these people on the wall?" Jania interjected. "They look pretty important so I’m sure you guys know who they are right? If someone wants to explain it for me I would greatly appreciate it. An acolyte like me could learn a lot from this.” Apollyon glanced sideways at the neophyte. "Well, at least three of them are great Sith Lords of the past," she replied distractedly, her gaze returning to the wall. "Darth Vader," she pointed at the black-armoured figure gripping the sandy hair of Luke Skywalker, "and Darth Revan fighting his former apprentice Darth Malak," she pointed to the two figures in the lower right corner. "All three of them lived thousands of years after this tomb was built, however, so clearly this is what the inscription means when it says 'wall of prophecy.' Hmmm..." As Apollyon trailed off, Kevala approached. “It means nothing to me,” she stated plainly, blinking in confusion. “Your Sith spells and riddles have no meaning for us and, evidently, neither does our ability as polyglots as clearly you have others for such uses.” She glared at Catalyst. “I haven’t the faintest idea why we were sent here besides further combatants, but you people seem to have an unholy fascination with deadly traps and it’s beginning to piss me off.” Apollyon scowled, crossing her bare caramel arms as she turned to face the recalcitrant assassin. "It has no meaning for us either, halfblood," she stared up at the tall Arkanian offshoot. "That's why we could do with your help to try and figure it out, something clearly, you know, all the grave robbers back there didn't, which is why they all starved to death. So how about--" Apollyon was interrupted by the unmistakable clattering of armour against stone. Darth Xirr, his vision perhaps constrained by his mask, had tripped on the bones of the closest skeleton, and fallen flat on his front. Robyn Shaire, directly in front of him, was bowled over by the falling Sith Lord, and promptly pinned beneath his armoured weight. With her black sclera, Apollyon's eye roll was unnoticeable. "Get up, you clumsy oafs," Apollyon snorted, "and please pay attention to where you're going - and this puzzle on which our survival may depend...?" Viscretus remained silent throughout. Silent, but not imprudent. As Apollyon chastised Kevala, she stepped closer to the wall, running her alabaster fingers across the wall. Small smatterings of dust fell from the cracks and inscriptions. But not one hieroglyph she could see was a circle, so far as her keen eye could tell. The closest thing to circles she could see were the nine 'osk' letters in the Aurebesh below; although they were trapezoidal, she knew that in the High Galactic alphabet, the letter 'osk' was a true circle. It was the best guess she had at present. Wordlessly, she reached down, and pressed her fingers against the 'osk' letters. Nothing happened. Or at least, the letters did not suddenly move, the wall did not withdraw, as Viscretus might have hoped. But there did come a dry, rasping sound behind them. With a scraping clatter, the seven skeletons and one dried cadaver clambered to their feet. Apollyon cursed, seeing the dreadful sight over Kevala's shoulder. Immediately, the reanimated dead began to come after them, bony arms outstretched, trailing wisps of decayed cloth. The four bearing ancient weapons were the closest, and so were upon them in an instant; one swung its rusted sword in a wide slash towards Xirr and Robyn on the floor, aiming to cleave them both in twain, one's teeth descended towards Kevala's neck from behind while it stabbed its gladius at Scionica's back, and the other two swung their strange halberds. From the heads of their rusted polearms, a shower of deadly metal discs sprayed forth, three discs flying towards Viscretus, Neoplix and Apollyon each, two towards Catalyst, and one towards Jania. The other four ghouls were advancing up the narrow passageway single-file, seeking the opportunity to attack. TAG: Volshe , Shira , Padawan4687 , dice , Darth Catalyst , @lordjania , gorzan , Darth Voidwalker
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Mar 8, 2018 0:06:36 GMT -5
IC: Captain GederpThe Triumphant , en route to the Nihil Retreat"I shall escort her, ma'am," Gederp spoke up, recognising this Vassago's resistance to the notion of Lady Tano helping Sabba find quarters, and recognising Alisha's need for medical assistance. Whatever ailed her, it had been enough to render Alisha largely mute for the last several minutes! Did she just take a blow to the lekku, or was it some sorcery...? Well, finding such out might be the reason Shira wanted her taken to the med bay, he supposed. "Come along, Lady Tano," Gederp said, brusquely grabbing the Emperor's Sword by the elbow. Alisha mumbled something in response that Gederp missed, but was otherwise compliant, stumbling along beside him as he aided her navigation through the labyrinthine passageways of the Super Star Destroyer. A couple turbolift rides and a jaunt on the railjet later, they were arriving at the chaotic medbay. Personnel were darting back and forth between beds and bacta tanks; there were innumerable wounded. Approaching Gederp and Alisha, a mild-mannered, middle-aged human doctor with a balding head and a dyed black beard. "My Sword," Doctor Lak greeted, his concern masked by his calm, reserved tone but evident in the wringing of his hands, "how are you feeling?" TAG: Shira , Volshe , Lord Vassago , Padawan4687
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Mar 8, 2018 0:34:28 GMT -5
IC: Jedi ShadowHold of the Artificer "You are unwise to lower your defenses," the Jedi Shadow snapped back at Voidwalker's offer, and, with a flourish, slashed towards Voidwalker's chest. Mid-twirl, he pressed the trigger on his weapon, shooting a blaster bolt towards Karina behind him. Seeing Draven's gambit had failed, Jacen Thilly pulled his own blaster from his holster, shooting at the Jedi Shadow with precision. The rest of the crew members followed suit, but it was of no use; the Shadow's reflexes were too quick, and each packet of plasma was caught by the humming blade of his lightsaber, reflecting off the beam and ricocheting off ceilings, floors and furniture, saturating the recycled air of the hold with the smell of ozone - and turning the battle into a deadly maelstrom of bouncing blaster bolts. TAG: Darth Voidwalker, kurtishenschel
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Mar 8, 2018 0:49:23 GMT -5
IC: Tarpy, Lemmy and KintControl room, Ninushodojinyaut , dead spaceKint heard the footsteps, and rapidly backed away from the door. "Lemmy," he said, "It's on you. Open the door? or leave it as is." Lemmy twitched at every noise that blasted from the corridor. He'd been around for a long time and yet these were still unfamiliar sounds. Mystery never did bode well in the cold darkness of Space. "I say," he said slowly while inching his finger towards the screen, "we leave it shut and whatever that is out there can go suck on a Hutt." He jammed his finger into the image of the humanoid wreathed in flame again, hoping that whatever was out there would be deterred by the roar of sound that seemed to come from these buttons. This time, however, no additional sound was produced as a result. "Don't press it again, you idiot!" The tarp screeched, as the roaring outside grew louder, the stomping closer. There was a sharp and noticeable increase in temperature in the room with each footstep, enough for both Kint and Lemmy to break out into a sweat. The tarp had no nose, but through the magic that granted it perception, it could detect the distinct smell of burning. It had no ears either, but it heard, beneath the intermittent roars, the crackling of flame. The temperature continued to rise, every second...
TAG: Darth Catalyst, gorzan
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Mar 8, 2018 13:22:24 GMT -5
IC: Ermir MarcusTemple passageway, Korriban Some of Arcane's blood-streaked saliva got in Ermir's hair, but his ire was quashed by Arcane's apology. Good, good. The peon knew his place. With one hand, Ermir assisted Arcane to his feet, while he used the other to wipe the blood and saliva from his hair, which only had the effect of rubbing it in like hair gel, some dripping onto his forehead. Ermir shrugged. He'd had worse on his face. "So, neophyte," Ermir said, "now that you're on-board with this little expedition, how do you propose we open up that tiny little peephole into an entryway?" TAG: Arcane
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Darth Catalyst
Citizen
Dark Lord Immortalis & High Inquisitor
.: Chaos and Cunning
Handling the Hand
Posts: 248
Likes: 276
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Post by Darth Catalyst on Mar 8, 2018 13:57:03 GMT -5
IC Lord Catalyst Beneath Sadow's Tomb
Surprised flashed across Catalysts’s face as Apollyon confirmed his suspicions while simultaneously chiding Jania. I suppose it makes sense, Anakin Skywalker was deemed the Chosen One by the Jedi. Catalyst still remembered the shock of discovering that Skywalker and Vader were one and the same, that his service in the Clone Wars and under the Empire were eerily similar to Vader’s own. The assassin Kevala’s snap at him pulled him from his introspection. “It means nothing to me. Your Sith spells and riddles have no meaning for us and, evidently, neither does our ability as polyglots as clearly you have others for such uses.” She glared at him. “I haven’t the faintest idea why we were sent here besides further combatants, but you people seem to have an unholy fascination with deadly traps and it’s beginning to piss me off.”
“Polyglots indeed, assassin,” he retorted quickly at her. “It took me many decades of training and study to learn to read Basic. I’m sorry I overshadowed your perceived abilities.” He shot a sly grin back at Kevala, calling to mind the lasso incident in the Valley. "Besides, it helps to be an expert on traps when one needs to catch an assassin." The grin came very close to breaking into laughter as Xirr toppled onto Shaire. A snort escaped as Apollyon rebuked his clumsiness, especially so recently after commending his grace and fluidity in his heavy armor. Lady Viscretus, who the entire time seemed to be distracted, slowly stepped forward, extending her alabaster fingers to methodically press the rounded letters of the wall. At least they would be round if transcribed into High Galactic. Catalyst cocked his head a bit. He didn’t see a relation between the letters and the Exiles, as laid out by the riddle. He wasn’t about to question Viscretus though. He’d seen what became of Coatlec after the Bastard had his doubts of her skills. He was not ready to succumb to age yet.
Several long milliseconds passed between each press. There was no evident response from the wall, nor did Viscretus react in a way that suggested knowledge was imparted unto her. Catalyst then heard groaning, not like Xirr’s groan of pain and embarrassment, but the groan of ancient evils that could make no other noise. “No...” Catalyst’s voice betrayed some worry as the skeletons rose and began their approach. They began picking up weapons and his tone quickly shifted to annoyance. “No, no, no, no. Why is it always things that want us dead?” He pulled his saberstaff from his belt and ignited a single blade. “Never ‘here’s your prophecy, thanks for playing’ or ‘you worked hard, here’s a Twi’lek girl to rub your feet’ but always something trying to kill you.” Combat would already be difficult in this cramped space, but moreso if he decided he needed the full length of the staff. Thankfully, Soresu complimented tight, efficient movements. It was perfect for an encounter such as this. The approaching undead launched a flurry of razor sharp projectiles the group’s direction. His first priority was to evade the discs coming his way. There was no time or space to block them both, so he neatly sidestepped out of the trajectory of one of them and raised his saber to intercept the other. His other hand raised towards their attackers and he let loose a volley of telekinetic blasts, aiming to push the dead further back into the cavern and buy them some time to strategize.
TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Volshe, Shira, Padawan4687, dice, @lordjania, gorzan
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gorzan
Citizen
Posts: 93
Likes: 60
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Post by gorzan on Mar 8, 2018 14:01:44 GMT -5
IC: Darth Neoplix Location: Tombs Neoplix sat back against the wall, pondering the question before them. He had no doubt that eventually they would solve it; they would survive, and they would move forward. He refused to even consider the concept of failure. But then, he saw the sith lords fiddling with the wall, and his eyes brightened. "Good," he muttered. "I was right. They deciphered the puzzle." he stood, stretching, and then his ears twitched, hearing the skeletons moving behind him. He spun, and backed up rapidly. How had his hearing not detected their heartbeats? that question was answered almost immediately: they had none. Somehow, these bodies were reanimated with the force, the dark side flowing through them. Yet another trap. he regretted not destroying the dead bodies earlier, or taking some kind of precaution against this. 'I should have seen this coming,' he thought, unclipping his saber and preparing for combat. The disks whizzed through the air, sent flying from the staffs, and he realized that the others might not be able to react in time, and even if they could, it would require some of their strength. strength that was much better put to use on offense than defense. He leaped through the air, extending his arms and legs, in an attempt to wrap himself around the flying projectiles and take the blunt of their force, as well as disrupt their flight path, if his body wasn't enough to stop them, causing them to miss their intended targets. he rolled to the ground, standing, and watched as the wounds knit themselves together. He would be a little slow for a minute or two, so instead of charging headlessly into combat, he allowed those with more experience to take the lead. Tags: Darth Voidwalker, Shira, Darth Catalyst, @volshe, Volshe, |
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