The Old Sith Trials

IC: Reaper
Location: Nar Shaddaa

Reaper moved his body and leg to decrease the target and squatted so the shot aimed at his groin would go by him and the two aimed at his face would go right over his head to hit the people watching directly behind him. He then Force Leaped into the air gliding over the Besalisk he began spinning so he could land facing the Besalisk's back. As he glided he cast a Force Push quickly followed by a Force Lightning downward at the Besalisk.

He then pulled Corvar's saber to his hand and ignited it as he landed on his feet. As he came down he struck down at a diagonal slash between the neck and shoulder then came back with a slash at the midsection and came back finally with a stab aimed at the spine which according to his mind it should come out at the sternum. As he did his thrust he yelled at the loudest he could go "Die PoPo!!"

Tag: Darth Catalyst, darthkain7, darthferos

IC: Karina
Hold of the Artificer, Federation checkpoint, space

Karina kept her head down until she heard the thud and scream of pain confirming the Jedi was down. Groaning in pain she got to her feet and pulled the jacket off the dead agent and put it on to have some modesty. Walking around the Jedi keeping a good space between them she stopped once she got next to voidwalker. "So what's the plan now? Put a hole in his head and try to make a run for it or do we try and use him to get through? I don't think the second option will be so reliable considering how he was just trying to kill us." She motioned to the blaster wound as she spoke "kinda lucky it grazed me or else I'd have a few days in bacta ahead of me, always hated that it's so weird being kept underwater to heal but it gets results." She kept the dead agents blaster handy as she looked back to the Jedi " well it's up to you, you're the boss here but if we do kill him dibs on his jacket looks better made than this one." Smirking a little she sat down on the arm of a nearby chair that managed to not get used as cover. She kept her new blaster aimed at the Jedi's chest since she was doubtful of that being the end of his fight. And if he did try a last ditch attack she'd have to be quick unless of course the legends about the Jedi were heavily exaggerated but it wasn't exactly a risk she wanted to take.

Tags: Darth Dreadwar Darth Voidwalker

IC: Darth Vassago & Sabba
Aboard The Triumphant, hyperspace, en route to the Nihil Retreat

Darth Vassago nodded slowly, listening to Shira as she spoke, his eyes beginning to run over the more intricate details of the quarters.

The line of questioning Shira followed seemed inevitable. First, she was eager to learn how he got himself and Sabba aboard the vessel, in the middle of hyperspace, no less, and the next logical question was how he knew about the ship at all. There was no way she thought he had military knowledge, or secrets of that sort. No, his appearance was enough to give off the indication he was out of touch with the happenings of the Galaxy at large. It had to be something else. She remained diplomatic, friendly, even, but he was no fool; he knew any answer he gave her would be unsatisfactory. Even the truth would leave her bewildered, likely alarmed.

“An Ithorian,” Vassago responded nonchalantly, bringing his focus back to the woman across from him. He reached down and took the rum filled class into his hand once more, swirling it softly before sipping. “Churr Dualtethh,” he revealed the name between sips, “Young Sabba spoke to him, back on Terminus.” The Dark Lord motioned to his Apprentice with the glass before setting it back on the desk before him. “He is an…information broker, if you will. He gave us the location and named this vessel as the most direct route.”

There was silence between the three for a moment before the Dark Lord inclined his head toward Sabba briefly, indicating her freedom to speak without fear or being reprimanded. She nodded softly, to her Master before meeting Shira’s eyes. “I got the information from him. My Master sent me to the marketplace to speak to the hammerhead-one,” she paused for a moment, looking down at her feet while clutching the staff. “He had a Pantoran man with him. His eyes pierced through my clothing, he was very unfriendly,” she stiffened her upper lip at the thought, silently wishing she’d relieved him of his head in that marketplace, along with those gang members. “Not like you, Miss. You helped me.” Sabba smiled softly at Shira, remembering the assistance she rendered in that elevator shaft.

“Indeed,” Vassago said softly, lacing his fingers together over his chest. “As I said, Sabba is fond of you, which is why you will be keeping an eye on her, Lady Shira. I’m sure you’ll let me know if she has any missteps.” The Dark Lord paid no mind to the sheepish expression that covered Sabba’s face, nor did he bother turning to her; his words spoke volumes, and Sabba knew she would have to remain on her best behavior, even in her Master’s absence.

TAG: Shira , Darth Dreadwar

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IC: Warlord Zhav'vorsa
Imperial Medbay, Sith Temple, Korriban

The disgraced Sith Lord groveled at the feet of the Warlord, as commanded. He proclaimed Zhav’vorsa’s superiority and even described himself as a speck, nearly nothing, in his presence. But Lord Coatlec ran afoul, and perhaps got too involved with the idea of groveling. The Sith Lord began kissing at the dirt, mucus crusted boots, even going so far as to take a mouthful of it. The Warlord said nothing of kissing his boots, nor did he speak of touching him. In fact, Zhav’vorsa said that Coatlec was not worthy to touch him…yet he did.

A scowl ran over Zhav’vorsa’s scarred face and he arched his right eyebrow, his body tensing a bit at the rage he felt from the audacity of the inferior warrior. While Coatlec was kissing, groveling, at his boot, the Warlord quickly twitched and kicked the heel of his boot across Coatlec’s mouth, knocking him to the ground with a thud. The large man reached down, gripping a handful of Coatlec’s stringy hair, and showed his strength by lifting the withered Sith Lord off the ground by only that handful of hair. Zhav dangled the man there for a moment, his amber eyes piercing into those of his disgraced subject.

“Zichome govak!” Zhav’vorsa roared in his native tongue, his grip tightening painfully. His words, translated into Basic, labelled Coatlec as a disrespectful fucker. He followed his insult by spitting in the Sith Lord’s face and dropping his sword to the ground; the resultant clatter of the massive weapon landing on the ground was nearly deafening. With his sword-hand free, he reared back and brought his forearm and elbow directly into the side of Coatlec’s head, making direct contact with his temple. The resultant impact was a sickening crack, a massive thud, and the man’s withered body was sent flying into the solid wall nearby.

Coatlec’s body slammed painfully against the unforgiving wall, and his frail body slid down to the ground in a heap. The sound was like a pleasant melody to the savage Warlord, a sound his ears had heard hundreds of time previously. However, Zhav’vorsa was not content. The enraged Battlelord turned and charged toward the crumpled heap of humanity against the wall, tearing through any obstacle before him; with one hand he gripped the frame of a hospital bed and hurled it, sending it tumbling noisily down the row.

When the Warlord reached Coatlec’s body, he immediately reared back and kicked the downed man across the ribs. Not once, not twice, not even three times…more. Over and over, he kicked against what felt like a bag of bones, and felt as each impact robbed the man’s lungs of oxygen. After half a dozen kicks, Zhav pushed Coatlec’s shoulder with the toe of his boot, moving him onto his back. He gazed down at the disgraced, beaten Sith Lord and snarled, a sadistic smile coming over his lips. He pressed his boot across Coatlec’s throat, shifting his weight to further deprive him of the air his body craved.

“Viqaferat,” he commanded, barking down at Coatlec in his native language, again. His deep voice echoed through the empty medbay. Zhav looked down, his long hair falling over his shoulder, and pressed his boot down harder, listening to Cotlec gasp. “Beg, vikeesi!!” He clarified, wanting his intent with the Sith Lord to be clear. The insult he flung translated into bitch in Galactic Basic, his disdain for Coatlec, and his distaste for the man beginning to show through. From the corner of his eye, the Warlord took notice of the robed figure of Dreadwar, looking on without a single flinch. He took the wraith’s lack of objection as an indication to continue the "lesson", altering none of his methods.

TAG: Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror , Darth Dreadwar  

IC: Nox Talus/Sulat Xon
The Mind of Nox

Sulat waited for a reaction from the Empress but it seem to have never came. Instead she seemed as confident as ever, unless she was struggling to stay within the illusion that they were now both in. “What is wrong Empress? Using to much energy trying to maintain control over this fools mind? Tell me, are you so cold that the sight of you almost killing your own Hand? Has no effect on you? That is interesting indeed if it is true. Perhaps you’re a bit more darker than I had originally thought. Then again, the only knowledge I have of you is from this fool.”

As the Empress took a step forward so did Xon to match he movement and to what seemed would be a face off. As he stepped forward the setting and everything around them fell to darkness then a moment later was changed to a dark courtyard with only a lamp lighting the area. Sulat stopped in his step and called out to the Empress. “What was that exactly? Why did everything fall to darkness before changing? Or why did it change? What have you done to the fool who’s mind I inhabit?” Nox was currently no where to be found, the only two were Volshe and Xon.

The Empress would never answer these questions, her single statement directed at Sulat was a cold and direct one. “On the contrary, foolish one,” neither of you survives.”

Sulat let out a deep are hearty laugh at the words of the Empress. As if he had come to a realization that tickled his odd sense of humor. He quickly gained his composure before replying. “My apologies Empress, I do not mean to laugh as a sign of disrespect. You can not kill what is already dead. However I do find it funny that you remind me so much of someone I once knew before.”

TAG: Darth Dreadwar Volshe

IC: Darth Neoplix
location: the tombs of Korriban

Neoplix tumbled to the ground, the disks and his leap tossing him in a heap to the ground. He stood, groaning. He was glad to see the others take advantage of his move, going on the offense. He would rather not get too close to these undead beasts. He flexed his chest, grunting, and forcing the disks out of the wounds, sending them clattering to the floor before him.

Rolling his shoulders, he stood, turning to survey the situation as the wounds in his chest rapidly healed. He was shocked to see the lightsabers and light-sources begin to sputter and die. As the darkness closed in, he backed up, and began to listen, his enhanced hearing and night vision giving him a good picture of how the hallway looked.

Then, one of the undead broke loose, coming for him with its jaws snapping and its hands clutching. Neoplix recoiled, disgusted, before realizing exactly what it was he needed to do. he let it get close, and then his hand shot out, catching it by the throat and keeping it's dangerous, dripping wet teeth away from his vulnerable, unarmored body. "This is why I needed my doshing armor," he muttered, and then with hi oher hand, he lifted one of the disks that had so recently been embedded in his body, smashing it viciously down over and over at the creature's skull.

Tags: Shira, @lordjania, Shira,@volshe,Volshe,@darthdreadwar Darth Catalyst

IC Tranquility Crew
Docking Bay 418, Nar Shaddaa

The Miraluka girl looked up slowly, meeting Corvar’s gaze with her empty sockets. “Promise they won’t get hurt," she pleaded. "I’ll go with you as long as they can leave unharmed.” She reached her hand up to take a hold of his but was distracted by the commotion that came from behind her. The second the explosive left the grasp of the captain, a sly grin crept across his face. It traveled less than a foot before the pressure sensitive switch depressed and the device detonated. Captain Jag was killed instantly by the force of the massive explosion. His brown coat, now singed and filled with holes, soared up to the wall of the hangar and found an outcropping of rough stone to hang from. The blast knocked the Besalisk and Miraluka to the ground and would likely do the same to Corvar if he did not brace himself. Feros’s charge towards the man would leave him little time to react to the rapidly expanding wall of force that was growing to meet him.

Reaper had leapt high enough into the air to be unaffected by the explosion, and his Force attacks merely ensured that the Besalisk remained on the ground when he brought Corvar’s lightsaber down to strike. The four armed alien was dead before the second slash was completed. The ship meanwhile began slowly lifting from the ground; the repulsorlifts that helped ensure it took off and landed smoothly were unaffected by the crippled exhaust ports. It wouldn’t get off planet with the damage it had sustained but it wouldn’t be long before it was too far away for the trio of Force users to do anything. The crowd that had gathered in the entryway let out a collection of shouts and screams and began dispersing when the detonator went off. Along with the crowd, the human woman that had remained on the ground during the scuffle seemed to have disappeared.

TAG:trentongordon,darthferos,darthkain7

IC: Reaper
Location: Nar Shaddaa

Reaper force pulled his saber to him and took the head and spine of the Besalisk. He looked around at the damage and laughed. He then put his lightsaber away and walked to the Miraluka girl and held out his hand bowing slightly.

"Come. Take my hand and we'll go back to the ship and no harm shall come to you. Deeply sorry about your friends as well. I would've incapacitated the Besalisk but the Sith would've killed him anyways." He rose and still held his left gauntleted hand out to her. "If you come you shall be under Corvar and my own protection and you have our word that no harm shall come to you from either of us nor the Sith."

He smiled a bit his right cheek muscle's going up and he hoped it was welcoming to the girl. He was also glad she couldn't see what had occurred to her friends cause it was not pretty to behold. He held the Besalisk's head and spine in his right hand and put it behind his back just in case.

Tag: Darth Catalyst, darthkain7, darthferos

*COMBO WITH DELERITAS*

IC: Darth Solus
Location: Dromund Kaas Citadel

Solus listened closely to Nostrem’s words. Something about them seemed to hint at the answer to this “puzzle”. As Solus thought he watched. Nostrem toyed with Deleritas. Pretending like he had weight and was going to throw off the balance of the shifting stone slab. The only thing that threw off the balance was Deleritas’ attempt to compensate. I can’t be disappointed. I might have done the same thing. After all, this trap is new to us. As Nostrem sank into the floor all that was left was Deleritas and Solus.

“What do you think, sir?”

Deleritas’ question simply voiced what they were both thinking. What do we think is the next course of action?

“I don’t think there’s any way around it. I will have to jump over there. Does the floor or anything seem different from your vantage point?”

Deleritas met the question with silence but it was clear that Deleritas was having the same thoughts Solus was.

“Below you flows a river of molten stone.”

Flows. Flows where? Solus knew there had to be some way out of the room. Fake walls? A river flowing to a destination? We will likely be locked into the room as soon as I join. The calculation would have to be precise. When Solus jumped Deleritas would have to accommodate for a shift in weight and then they would both have to balance together. Solus weighed more therefor he would have to stand closer to the center and Deleritas would stand slightly closer to an edge. Simple physics. But it was useless for Solus to remain where he was.

“I’m coming over. You are going to have to prep for a shift in weight when I land and then we will have to balance it out again since I weigh more. Move closer to the far edge when I get there and we will steady the slab.”

“Which edge are you considering the far edge?”

Solus smiled to himself under his mask. Smart ass. However, the point to clarify remained.

“The edge farthest from me. The edge behind you… smart ass.”

Deleritas waved and Solus just shook his head lightly from side to side. After that he leaned back slightly and sprung forward. Allowing the force to guide him to the slab. His aim was for an off- center spot slightly closer to the door then to the far wall. He took great effort in making sure he would land as lightly as possible. May the force serve me.

Darth Catalyst, Deleritas

IC: Darth Apollyon
Passageway, False Tomb of Naga Sadow, Korriban

Darkness.

The moment Viscretus' glow-rod failed, the seemingly last light source in the passageway was extinguished, plunging the team into a literal darkness to match the pall of loathsome energy that saturated the cold, stale air. A dry, scraping clatter denoted the sound of the rest of the skeletons rising to their feet, and Apollyon knew fear as her onyx eyes peered into the equally opaque blackness of the tunnel, not knowing whence the next attack came. She was expecting to feel their teeth on her slender throat any moment. And then the passageway flickered cobalt, and for a second Apollyon could see the undead, illuminated by the cerulean effulgence of Catalyst's lightning.

The brief flash revealed their enemies' weakness.

Their heads!

Catalyst's blast of lightning to one's skull. Neoplix caving in another's with repeated blows of a lanvarok disc. Robyn's swing at a third's head. Jania beheading two with an impressive twirling slash to their necks. Within seconds, five zombies had been felled thusly with a spectral cry, never to rise again. Whatever alchemical aether was reanimating these tomb guardians appeared to be concentrated in the cranium, and thus a sufficient strike to the skull, or a severance of the skull from the body, appeared to permanently render the skeletons inert.

But that still left three ghouls, and as Catalyst's lightning withered and died, Apollyon felt a twinge of irritation at her never having mastered the elemental arts of the Force. She understood that casting Force Lightning involved more than merely accelerating electrons - it involved siphoning Force energy in a way that separated the Sith art from Jedi facsimiles that could only short-circuit droids - and there was no time to unravel the mystery of its mechanism now, no matter how urgently she needed light. Fortunately, Xirr came to the rescue, projecting his own bolts of lightning into the roughly-hewn ceiling, which mercifully held up under his barrage.

The passageway was once again bathed in eerie azure hues, illuminating the three remaining longdead stalking towards them. The twins had taken the initiative to throw themselves towards one, which was clever enough to leap to meet them mid-air before they could sandwich it between them, sword stabbing towards Kevala's gut, teeth snapping at Scionica's neck. Another skeleton charged Xirr, recognising the tactical value of eliminating the armoured Sith Lord or at least distracting him from his casting lightning, swiping at Jania's side with its sword as it ran past her, before moving to impale Xirr in the abdomen. The third followed quickly behind and to the side, picking up a sword a fallen skeleton had left and hurling it at Catalyst's chest with its left hand, jabbing towards Neoplix's thigh with the halberd in its right, and then diving towards Robyn's feet, gnashing teeth seeking her ankles with an attack from an unexpected trajectory.

Apollyon and Viscretus, hanging back near the wall, seemed safe - for now.

TAG: Volshe, Shira, Padawan4687, Darth Catalyst, gorzan, dice, @lordjania

IC: Ermir Marcus
Dungeons of the Sith Temple, Korriban

Arcane's suggestion was, once again, unexpectedly good. Ermir found himself almost regretting belittling the student, now; it turned out walking cat mats could, surprisingly, equal the otherwise superior human species in creative problem-solving. The keyword was almost. In Ermir's mind, said belittling was likely responsible for Arcane's deft twist of thought, prodding anger to the surface and letting the dark side do the rest. Satisfied the credit was therefore his, it took Ermir only a second for the fleeting feeling to fade, and once again a speciesist keenness to remind Arcane of the unfortunate lottery of his race came to the fore.

"Creatures," Ermir repeated. "You are suggesting we release you to stampede around the Temple?" The Sith Master chuckled at his own joke, shaking his head as he did so, before his expression flattened in more serious contemplation. "No, no, it's not half-a-bad idea." The pair had passed his classroom door, now, and Ermir, too, could hear the din of chatter from the main hall emanating from the stone spiral staircase at the end of the passageway. "There's a bestiary up there I have access to, as a teacher of alchemy," he pulled a small electronic keycard from the inside of his white coat, briefly twirling it between his two fingers before returning it to his pocket, "although the kind of creatures we keep tend to be a fair bit more dangerous than banthas and dewbacks."

Ermir chuckled again. This time, it was distinctly sinister. "But that'll only make it a better distraction. Still, to avoid danger, we'd best get the mining equipment first, then release the beasts, then run down here."

They were at the base of the winding stairs, now, and Ermir gestured above him. "Follow me, Arcane. You have not yet learned to shield your mind, but there are alternative ways of cloaking your intentions. As we pass the Sith in the dining hall, merely let your mind be consumed by other thoughts. It has to be something that blots out other thoughts, or that anyone passively scanning your mind will withdraw from. Some people try and solve algebra, some count pazaak cards, I prefer to vividly imagine kriffing this Zeltron girl in my class." A twisted smile, dripping with lubricious desire. "And no, you may not get that cleaned up."

Ermir began ascending the staircase, talking as he went.

"Fools notice the lack of healing focus in Sith teaching, and conclude we are weaker than the Jedi in these arts. Anyone with a passing knowledge of alchemy or history knows that the feats of Karness Muur and Darth Sion are beyond any Jedi in this regard. No, it's not that we're incapable of healing, it's that we embrace the pain injury brings. Learn to love it, young Arcane. Swaddling in pain is the means by which we wrap ourselves in potent dark side energy, focusing our anger, our rage and thus our power."

They had reached the top of the stairs, now, and the din grew to a full clamour, as Ermir stepped out into the main hall of the Sith Temple. It was an opulent, vaulted hall of stone, crystal chandeliers casting a crimson glow on the long, oaken tables beneath, at which sat surely several hundred Sith Masters, apprentices and acolytes. The sconces on the walls were unlit, as the dwindling fiery sunlight of Horuset still streamed in through the large windows on the far side of the hall, against which were contrasted the outlines of several exotic dancers, most of them Rutian Twi'leks. Around the tables weaved various servers, slaves and droids, ensuring every goblet of wine was full to the brim, and every dietary requirement of the multi-species assembly of Sith was met.

Thankfully, the large obsidian throne at the head of the largest table was empty; the customary, if purely ceremonial due to his lack of need for food, seat of the Emperor. Ermir nodded at Arcane, no words passing his lips, before nodding towards one particular entryway which led, after a hundred feet of barrack-lined passage, to the Sith Temple's supply depot.

TAG: Arcane

IC: Doctor Ken Lak
Medbay, Triumphant, hyperspace

"Interesting," Doctor Lak frowned. "The reason I ask you is because, with the elevated heart rate and temperature, I thought it might be explained by something viral like the flu, since it wouldn't be explained by a concussion." He smiled softly. "There's little cause for alarm. Likely something minor, but if you don't mind, I'd like to do some quick bloodwork."

Lak waved a medical droid over. The emerald-green droid had limbs that more appeared to be appendages composed of different-sized needles, as well as various tubes with fluids in them. It was humanoid, but hovered on repulsorlifts rather than walking on feet, and it appeared impatient as it intruded on Alisha's personal space, letting loose an electronic sigh while raising a proffering appendage grasping a tourniquet. "I understand you'd like to get back to your duties, Lady Tano," Lak said, "but would you mind if we test you for a viral or bacterial infection?"

TAG: Padawan4687

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IC: Captain Thilly
Hold of the Artificer, Federation checkpoint, space

Jacen duly obeyed Voidwalker's instruction, wincing as he walked by the defeated Jedi Shadow on the deck. "Rotten luck, mate," he muttered, a twinge of sympathy passing in recognition of the unpleasantness that was clearly about to ensue. "Come along, boys and girls," he said to the rest of the crew as he retreated from the hold to the cockpit, the door automatically opening and closing behind him with a pneumatic hiss. He did not expect Karina to join him - she had developed a fascination, it seemed, with the newcomer.

It took less than a minute for the screams to begin, and Thilly winced again, leaning back against the door with his arms folded. He could not make out what Voidwalker was saying, but he hardly needed to. There was only one obvious reason to keep the Jedi agent alive: to force the Federation vessel holding them in its tractor beams to let them pass. And sure enough, after another minute, the screams morphed into a frantic, garbled shout that Thilly could definitely hear: "Stop, just stop! Please! Aaaaaahhhh! AAAAAHH!! Force, no, gods, agggh.... Stop... I'll tell them. Stop." A muffled sob. Thilly pressed his ear to the door, and heard someone, presumably the Jedi, shuffling around, and then the Jedi was talking again - into the comm-link he had retrieved from his pocket. "Commander B-Beeblebrox, this is-this is... This is Agent O-Double-Seven. The cargo ship is clear, I repeat, the cargo ship is clear. R-release from inspection, and let... let proceed."

Thilly smiled, and settled in the pilot's chair, hand hovering over the control stick. With his other hand, he thumbed the button to open the door. "Are we good to go, Draven?" he shouted back through to the hold. "What are we gonna do about the Jedi?"

TAG: Darth Voidwalker, kurtishenschel