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Post by Lord Vassago on May 7, 2018 0:47:42 GMT -5
The following is a collective effort from myself and Darth Dreadwar,
IC: Darth Vassago & Darth DreadwarAstral plane of the Force Dreadwar’s subtle warning, if it could be called such, was not lost on the aged Dark Lord. He simply nodded to the words spoken to him. It was becoming clearer the more he spoke to Dreadwar that he appeared to have many strings tied to his fingers and was constantly at work, even aboard The Triumphant. He appeared to have intimate knowledge of the events there and was more than just familiar with Shira. Still, Vassago had no need to deceive the woman for any more than simply gauging her personality and threat level. “ Of course they didn’t, good King. My misdirection merely served me as a less crude means of which to better understand her. I am not as…familiar with her as you appear to be.” His response was meant to perhaps draw more information from the Dread-King, though he had his doubts it would work. Even still, Dreadwar’s relationship to Shira was hardly a major concern; she showed no signs of even knowing the eldritch King existed, so there was no cause for alarm that the greater goal of the small expedition was in jeopardy. " Familiar?" Dreadwar echoed, spreading his gloved palms. " I have not even met the girl. But I have met her compatriot, that obnoxious peahen of a Jidai who thinks her feather a sword." The reference to the Empress' Sword may have been oblique, but Dreadwar was confident Vassago would understand he spoke of Alisha Tano. " I made sport with her master in front of her young eyes, while she blinked and bleated in dumb anguish, as a calf waiting for the wolf to deprive it of its mother." Rid Malt had been male, of course, the closest thing to a father Padawan Tano had possessed no doubt, but Dreadwar had always found the Grand Master of the Jedi Trials more suited to a woman's role. He certainly screamed like one, in the course of our sport... and wailed like a widower, when I relieved him of the burden of shepherding his flock. Dreadwar had accomplished that, of course, by slaughtering said flock; the entire splinter sect calling itself the New Jedi Trials, wiped out in a single day, their quaint and slothful Temple pounded to dust by the cannons of Dreadwar's flagship. They had secreted themselves away in the Unknown Regions seeking to bring the fight to the Sith rumoured to be hiding there. The Sith had brought the fight to them instead. From the ashes Alisha Tano had emerged the only survivor. Bereft of home and purpose in a galaxy of encroaching darkness, she had aligned herself with the lightest shade of grey she could find in the mire of the Shadow War: the Febrayasi of the New Galactic Empire. And Shira A'dola had become her new master. Dreadwar may not have met her. " But," he continued, " I am always thorough in my research... of all mine allies... and mine enemies." The hood dipped. " Including you, Lord Vassago." But was Vassago an ally, or an enemy? That question the Dread-King left unanswered, as the daemoniacal darkness of his presence began to retreat, fading into wisps of noir grey as the swirl of the astral realm shrouded and wreathed the wraith's withdrawing form. And then, just so, Darth Dreadwar was gone. With Dreadwar’s exit, so lifted the bleakness of the astral plane. The screeching, the scraping, the washed-out hues all burned away, leaving the plane in a state – something more peaceful – that Vassago was more familiar with. It was the space he’d sought out previously, a place to center himself and find some semblance of peace. The intrusion, as it were, from Dreadwar did nothing for his peace of mind. The research he spoke of left Vassago something close to bewildered. Most, if not all the records of the Dark Lord indicated that her perished sometime after the fall of his Sith Order. The brow of his astral form arched, his head tilting downward while he wandered the stars, deep in thought of the resources at Dreadwar’s disposal; a being such a he would have near limitless information, even of the most obscure ideas, rituals, or persons. What was left of Vassago’s own collection of knowledge was simply in his mind. With his departure from the temple, and by extension, his writings and books, he was denied the myriad resourced and knowledge he once had. So was the price of exile… Within his mind, even on the astral plane, he could sense his young apprentice, Sabba. He’d left her with Shira, yet he felt distress within her, conflict. Compassion. His mind sharpened to her location, focusing on the center of these emotions, pushing into her Mind’s Eye. From her vantage, he could see a medical bay, a bed where an afflicted young Togruta girl was laying. It was Alisha Tano, the young woman Dreadwar had just referenced. Sabba’s eyes were focused on the medical equipment within the bay, and he could feel she was trying not to focus. His astral form sat, floating above the non-existent ground that was more cosmic dust and stars, the literal Galaxy, and vanished from the plane. The moment he passed from the astral plane, he found himself surrounded by the darkness of the living quarters he was assigned. His mind was still stretched, focusing on his Apprentice, as well as the room around him, but also lingering in the astral plane, occupied with what Dreadwar’s parting words could possibly imply. Did he truly possess insight of the Dark Lord, or was it merely a bluff? Would the Dread-King see Vassago as an ally, or an enemy, or simply as a being, a means to an end? An entity such as the Dread-King always had something at play. All questions were inconsequential at the current juncture, but questions that nagged no less. With the vessels imminent arrival on Nilrebmah inching closer, perhaps he’d have the opportunity to inquire himself. He cleared his mind of the distractions, the questions, and focused on Sabba. Why, secure in the medical bay, presumably with Shira, was she feeling such conflict? Their parting was meant to be as much peace and quiet for her as it was for him; the stresses of travel within the Galaxy no doubt weighed on the girl, having hardly been aboard a vessel previously. Her time with Shira was meant to ease her…not produce further stress. The aged Lord got to his feet and dusted himself clean, running a hand down each of his sleeves before proceeding out the door. He kept his head covered with his cowl, preferring the shadowy inside of the hood to the blinding lights of an Imperial vessel. His walk was short, for the most part, as the medical bay was just near the corridor the crew had gathered in previously. He turned a final corner and found himself within the radiant confines of the medical bay, the overhead lights dwarfing the brightness of even the suns on Terminus, in some cases. He immediately laid eyes on his Apprentice, the young woman distracting herself with various medical trinkets laid upon the table before her. He found it odd to him that Shira was nowhere to be found. He'd also noticed the young Togruta that was on the medical bed previously had made her way to speak to Sabba. The two hadn’t met previously, and the Dark Lord was not keen on her forming bonds with yet another member of the vessels staff, regardless of their standing. Still, he remained silent in the moment and simply observed. Alisha, the patient perhaps causing all the commotion on board, made her way over to the curious young woman. Sabba was absentmindedly looking over the specimens on the table, her wrapped hand lightly grazing the metal instruments upon it, feeling the cool metal. Alisha’s question caught her off guard, stirring her out of her preoccupied state. She turned quickly and found herself face to face with the Togruta girl she’d only just made the decision not to help. In her mind, she'd potentially sentenced this unknowing woman to death. Unbeknownst to Alisha, a feeling of guilt washed over Sabba and all but constricted her tongue, keeping her from forming a coherent thought, or response. The simple question of her own name seemed to confuse her with the rush of emotions she felt. “ Sabba,” the heavy voice of Darth Vassago, sounding like a baritone, called out. Immediately, Sabba’s focus snapped away from Alisha, and she was completely focused on the presence of her Master. His voice echoed in her mind, as well as the room, and she felt some sense of ease immerse her…but it was quickly overtaken with dread. She had nothing to fear from him, as she had acted according to his teachings, but she felt helpless to it. The young woman bit softly at her bottom lip before turning to Alisha for only a second. Her expression signaled regret that she could not stay and talk to her, not with her Master’s beckon. She turned away and stepped lightly to where Vassago stood, her head lowering in respect before she fully bowed to the cloaked man. “ Master,” she said softly. He gestured for her to look at him, to peer into the darkness of his cowl and find his waiting eyes. He searched her eyes and saw only sorrow, regret. The glassiness of them had faded over the time it took him to reach the medical bay, but he could sense the split within her consciousness, within her very soul. “ I did not want to disturb you, to disrupt your meditation.” She began, feeling somehow responsible for his reemergence on the vessel. “ You did not,” he replied in a hushed tone that likely no others would hear. “ What troubles you?” he asked plainly, his voice laced with subtle concern for the storm he felt within her. Sabba did not answer immediately, rather she looked over her shoulder, toward Alisha and the doctors in the medical bay. Her gaze did not return to that of her Master, rather she found the floor after speaking. The Dark Lord noticed, and his right brow arched at her response. He looked up from the troubled girl, his cold eyes leering at the Tagruta girl in the medical bay from beneath his cowl… TAG: Shira, Darth Dreadwar, Padawan4687, Volshe
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Shira
Administrator 
.: Empress' Hand
Posts: 135 
Likes: 114
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Post by Shira on May 7, 2018 15:43:17 GMT -5
IC: The Twins
Treasure Chamber, False Tomb of Naga Sadow, Korriban
The Twins watched with cold amusement as Neoplix was flung around the treasure chamber. There was nothing quite like watching someone you loathed being tossed around like a ragdoll. It wasn’t personal, of course. The Twins hated everyone them met. On occasion, that would turn to acceptance with time, but that was rare. It gave plenty of opportunity for glee and stress-relief, to the detriment of whoever had the ill luck to be their plaything.
Smirks melted to scowls as Catalyst actually accepted the Gen’dai’s plea for apprenticeship. Wasted, Kevala thought, eyes scathing as she watched the two. He could spend his time teaching one far more worthy than that whining nerf.
Something prodded at her mind and she saw Scionica recoil swiftly, madness and fear sparking in her eyes once more. Kevala felt her heart jump in alarm as she saw images of Dreadwar’s damage within her sister’s memory and swiftly set up mental walls in her sister’s head. She cast an angry glance at Viscretus but, of course, she couldn’t have known the danger in intruding upon Scionica’s fragile mental state as she had.
But could she? Kevala had no idea the extent of power held by these Sith. There were always rumours, but one never knew how much truth was based in such hearsay. The Twins had seen incredible things since arriving on Korriban; the ability to disappear from view and even their infrared vision, physical combat and abilities augmented far beyond what any species could do alone, the ability to grasp one’s mind and force horrors upon the subject as though that was reality. A frown graced the woman’s brow as she thought, suddenly growing more careful. They wouldn’t be useful much longer. They would have to make a quick escape as soon as they could and settle for the money in Volshe’s banking account.
As for the moment, she calmed her sister as much as she could and followed the fallen Empress, but suddenly Volshe was no longer following. “Wait,” she called to the others, her frown deepening as she studied the taller woman’s features. Her eyes were open, but they were blank and unseeing.
Unseeing? No, she thought as her eyes widened. Seeing something, but not something here. Something elsewhere. Her suspicions deepened, but she had no way of knowing for sure. There was nothing else to do but wait, so she circled the woman slowly, absorbing every detail her keen eyes discovered, learning as much as was possible. She would not be able to accomplish such a detailed study while the Empress was cognisant.
TAG: Darth Dreadwar, @lordjania , Padawan4687 , Volshe , Darth Catalyst , dice
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on May 8, 2018 2:36:26 GMT -5
IC: Darth Anathema The Sith Citadel, Ziost
The Night is Dark and Full of Terror - Theme Music
There were five worlds considered sacred to the Sith, all bound by the looping hyperlane of the Nache Bhelfia behind the impermeable moat of stellar dust known as the Stygian Caldera. The first was a parched planet of sand and stone, stained red by the blood of the Sith who had called it their ancestral homeworld since time immemorial. Korriban. The second, Krayiss II, was a blighted plane of lava and obsidian, the jagged lines of volcanic rock forming the eldritch geometry of eerily beautiful libraries and temples that had been used by primordial pureblooded sorcerers for nearly forty thousand years. The third, Rhelg, was a world of cursed water, drowned by a dark ocean which hid great underwater cities of bloated basalt, guarded by the squamous tentacles of nameless elder things and foul pale squirmers. The fourth, Khar Delba, was a blasted, misshapen thing more resembling an asteroid than a planet, pitted with vast craters bordered by rings of mountainous teeth in whose frigid crevices were found the wicked terror-cranes known as Sith warbirds. And last but not least, the world on which the Sith Order itself had been born, out of the marriage between the extinct species that had lent the proscribed order its name, and the heresiarch Jedi who had proclaimed themselves their first Dark Lords. A bitter realm of ice and snow, scarred by cracked rifts into which were dug the frozen crypts of long-dead Sith sorcerers, stalked by packs of shaggy Tuk'ata whose howls echoed all the night across the great dark subalpine forests. Atop a sheer cliff of ice brooded a vast citadel of cold grey stone, kissed by the gelid winds of glacial desolation whose wail was every bit as vociferous and every bit as vicious as the eerie baying of the hounds that protected it. This was Ziost. Once capital of an ancient Sith Empire, the forlorn world of frozen death had been forgotten in the intervening millennia since Darth Vitiate's wrath had scoured its surface clean of life, and when Darth Vassago had formed the New Sith Order from the remnants of Dark Jedi serving Palpatine's fallen Galactic Empire, he had done so, much like past Sith resurrectors such as Darth Revan and Darth Ruin, on the tombworld of Korriban instead. Although life had returned to Ziost over the centuries, suited for the tenebrous tundra that had dominated the planet since the onset of its Ice Age, the Sith had not. Or, at least, they had not until now. Overlooked by Darth Sidious, neglected by Darth Krayt, Ziost was once again host to dark legions of Sith for the first time in nearly four thousand years, courtesy of the new Emperor of the Sith. In the fourth year of his reign, Darth Dreadwar the Magnificent had recently seen fit to make Ziost the staging ground of a kaggath between his nefarious Night Herald, Darth Insipid, and a deranged if audacious heretic who had emerged from years of seclusion to dare challenge the might of the new regime. Darth Haretisch.To Darth Anathema, the Emperor's sybarite Shadow Hand, the whole affair was a waste of her valuable time. A kaggath was an old ritual of the Sith, restored, much like Ziost, by the eldritch Emperor whose spectral origins accounted for an unusual interest in the ancient and arcane. It was a form of staged warfare, playing out according to careful rules and caliginous rites, pitting the forces of a Sith Lord against a rival. It was a way for a Sith to gain power at another's expense without tearing apart the fabric of Sith society in a genuine civil war. And Haretisch had challenged Insipid for his most illustrious title and rank of Night Herald. Insipid could have scarcely said no. To do so was to invite disgrace and demotion, for one's cowardice and weakness would be laid bare before all the Order of Sith. But for the life of her, Anathema could not figure out why the Emperor had commanded her to leave Korriban alongside Insipid, to aid him in his kaggath with all her bannermen. It belied the point of the whole thing, for surely the Sith masses would see the Emperor stacking the odds against Haretisch by so doing. They might even interpret it as an insult to Insipid, as if implying that the Dark Lord - one of only three recognised as legitimate by the Empire - could not fight his own battles. All Anathema could conclude was that the Emperor really didn't want Haretisch winning. It was fair, she supposed; if Haretisch unseated Insipid, Dreadwar's hands would be politically tied, and he would have little choice but invite the outsider to the Triumvirate that helmed the Sith Empire. No less a waste of her time. "They're coming," she purred, sulphuric yellow eyes flicking aside to Insipid. They stood in the centre of a cavernous hall of gleaming grey stone, frosty crystal and dull durasteel, illuminated by a powerful overhead halogen that shone stark white light on a winged statue of an obscure ancient Sith Lady called Vahl. Flanking them on either side, two identically nude statues of a strange woman with star-shaped slits for eyes and a too-wide grin, hands steepled above her bare breasts in seeming prayer. Behind them were two gargantuan monoliths that reminded Anathema of the statues one found guarding the entrances to tombs on Korriban, kneeling in supplication of the power the hall contained. The cold air was electric with the concentrated energies of the dark side. The hall was the heart of the Sith Citadel that had been forged from the ice and stone here some seven thousand years ago, and, like many archaic Sith structures, the angles of the architecture served to focus the poisonous power of the dark side, allowing Sith magicians to draw on its potency for their own uses. It served as an excellent headquarters for the hastily assembled military force that had answered Anathema's and Insipid's call to kaggath. Their senior staff were all here, crowding around the holoprojectors Anathema faced, analysing the lines and lines of Aurebesh text scrolling by the three-dimensional displays of troop movements and vehicle deployments. Around Anathema and Insipid a healthy distance was left unoccupied, safe from the hustle and bustle of officers, aides and Sith Knights racing back and forth. It was not only because of Anathema's Anzati heritage, and the terrifying reputation that accompanied such wicked vampirism. The Dark Lord and Lady together contained more power than that born by the entire garrison of Sith sorcerers and warriors stationed at the Citadel. Darth Helinith, standing closest to the two Triumvirs out of all those present, would be able to palpably feel it, rolling off the man that had once been her master, and the white-haired, leatheris-clad woman beside him, in equal measure. But that was not all Anathema radiated. Intertwined in her toxic aura was a distinct if subtle edge of apprehension that seemingly permeated the entire hall. The holoprojectors told the story; amassing outside of the Sith Citadel, at the base of the cliff it crouched upon, was an army. After weeks of indecisive skirmishes, the followers of Darth Haretisch had arrived in full, to besiege and storm the Citadel that Insipid had made his stronghold and steal the crown of Night Herald from his head. The enemy numbered easily 3,000 men, mostly Sith Troopers that had been reprogrammed from their service to Darth Krayt to blind obedience to Haretisch, with several dozen disgruntled Sith Inquisitors the heretic had appropriated from Dominion holdovers discontent with serving alongside their old rivals, the Acolytes, in Dreadwar's reunified Sith Order. They had two AT-ATs, supported by six AT-SiThs, but the Walkers weren't their main siege weapon; that would be the Gorog. Being led to the cliff's base by chains one meter thick, the vast bipedal beast, spawned by unhallowed Sith alchemy, would be tall enough to pound the citadel's walls with its fists once it had arrived. Whether Haretisch himself was with his army was unknown; the macrobinoculars of sentries on the Citadel's battlements could only discern so much, after all, in the dead of night. Kaggaths were determined by only one outcome. Losing this battle would not just mean death for Insipid, it would mean death for all those who had come to his aid. Anathema. Helinith. All 2,000 men in their Citadel army, from the 1,000 Yevethan warriors to the 300 Anzati blood knights to the echelons of officers and Sith Knights. As much as Anathema would have rathered spending the past few months bringing the war to the Jedi and their vaunted Federation, here she was. "Well, Looord Insipid," she drawled, turning to peer down at him from her 6' 5" height, "it seems this is your big day. Kill or be killed. This is your kaggath, after all, so I defer to the wisdom of your command." She dipped her head in a mocking bow, the slits in her cheeks that hid her lethal proboscides creasing as she gave the floor a hidden smile. As she raised her head, her yellow eyes bored into his.
"Whatever shall we do about the horde at our gates? Hole up in here, fight a defensive battle? We have enough resources. Or go on the attack, hm, for the vapidity of Insipid's empty glory?" Her discontent with the whole affair was evident.
Her eyes flicked over Insipid's shoulder, falling on his former apprentice. "What do you think, Helly? Don't just stand there looking pretty."
TAG: @sinre , @daughterofvader |
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Post by Deleted on May 8, 2018 11:46:10 GMT -5
IC: Darth Insipid The Citadel shook, and between it all, he knew that the other Triumvir, she was nattering away. He was a Dark Lord of the Sith. He had reunified the New Sith Order after Vassago broke it; after the Jedi routed it from Korriban; after Darth Krayt took it for himself. He did not need prattle. Their numbers were irrelevant, though the various Inquisitors that had swapped sides did grate. To be fair, Insipid has squandered a degree of goodwill by losing control of part of his Imperium to a mad clone, and then being absent while in a mind trap hardly helped solidify matters. Helinith had missed all that, of course. The point was this; he had seized the Order from Mystique; he had thwarted Krayt for a time; he had crossed blades with the man who would become High Lord Workan on Shadow - he was no small fry. Darth Insipid had little to say to Anathema, as such. He left Helinith to keep the Anzati amused. He instead addressed his commanders, not acknowledging the delineation of command. Some were present, some were holograms. Encryption was triple checked and rotated regularly. Shy of an outright betrayal - which Insipid was wary of - he would not worry about Haretisch discovering the plan. ‘Antagonise the Gorog with long rang fire, and direct it through this part of the Citadel they approach. We shall use the distraction upon our walls to disrupt their formation as they approach. Have the Knights’ sorcerers and arcanists line the vantage points and pick apart the strays. Secure the structure further back from the breach, and seal the entrances save for one,’ he indicated the entrance to this room. ‘Funnel them this way. I do not want the damage to the Citadel to spread beyond these points.’ Insipid gestures to a highlighted area, some dozen meters back from the breach he was about to cause. The Gorog was an issue; they had to distract it and he only had the Citadel to use for it. A fair amount of energy was about to be spent on keeping the Citadel upright, but he wanted this keep for his future use. He eyed Darama, who led his Yevethan contingent. ‘I want your men out of the battle for as long as you can hold them back. Their bloodlust will not benefit us until my plan is enacted.’ The man nodded, stiffly. Insipid turned back to Helinith to see what she had said to Anathema. Tag: Darth Dreadwar, @daughterofvader |
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Post by Deleted on May 8, 2018 15:49:25 GMT -5
IC: Darth Helinith Kaggath, smaggath. Another day, another fight. It was obvious that the Anzati felt this was all beneath her, but at least she had troops. In contrast, Darth Helinith had genuinely no idea why she was here. She wasn’t disappointed at a chance to work with her former master (it was a rare occurrence these days: he was always busy doing... stuff) but she wasn’t sure how much use an assassin was on a battlefield. Or perhaps she was about to very quickly acquire some new skills. Helly? Helly?Good grief. Sure, Helinith herself was known for being personal with people but that reeked of… what was the word? Sarcasm? Oh no, that was it. Contempt. She pulled out a stick of gum, absentmindedly, while considering her response. “I don’t have much anything to contribute right now, my specialities are quips, jokes and song lyrics.” Why did she have to say that? Now she had just laid upon herself the pressure of being funny, which would ensure that for the rest of this bloomin’ battle, she wouldn’t be able to think of a single pun. She offered some bubble-gum to the blond creature - it was the polite thing to do - before turning to join Insipid. “I hope you’re not drawing that Grog in to have me assassinate it. I’m good, but I’m not sure I’m that good.” She chuckled, entertained at the thought. TAGS: @sinre, Darth Dreadwar , |
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on May 8, 2018 18:32:15 GMT -5
IC: Darth Apollyon
Leaving the treasure chamber, False Tomb of Naga Sadow, Korriban The SarcophagusApollyon's onyx eyes widened in surprise. The Gen'Dai, Catalyst's apprentice? And here she had thought the Imperial Inquisitor had his eye on young Robyn Shaire. She could think of better matches, as far as master and apprentice pairings went, but nonetheless, Apollyon could see the wisdom in it; Neoplix had proven a base level of competence, in surviving the tomb to this point, and more importantly demonstrated greater self-preservation instincts than Coatlec and Kio both, in revealing himself, removing the wraps and submitting himself to his betters. It remained to be seen whether he would be wise enough to cede the sword to Catalyst's demand. Nonetheless, the situation appeared to be diffused for the most part, Neoplix adequately humbled by the might of Catalyst's telekinesis, and the team was beginning to move on from the treasure room, artifacts looted, but prophecy yet to be found. Viscretus was shepherding Kio and Shaire ahead of her, and the assassin sisters were catching up. Apollyon followed the retreating figures into the darkness of the unexplored passageway, nodding at Lord Xirr as she passed him. "Indeed, Lord Xirr," she said. "There is no way to go but forwards."The dark side only grew stronger, if it were possible, as they progressed onwards, and Apollyon cast her eyes over at Jania, wondering if her powerful amulets were the cause. But no; the acolyte had at last dealt with the danger of her pilfered talismans by prudently taking them off, their radioactive glow fading until the faint illumination they provided died entirely, leaving the team in oppressive blackness thick with ancient power. “I can’t see, y’all!!" Jania shouted, her voice strained with panic. "I can’t see!! What’s going on here!! Is the dark side doing something to me?!” Apollyon frowned. She could, indeed, see nothing ahead of them, and each footstep she took brought with it an increasing sense of danger... She stopped. Her hand extended behind her, plucking the torch from Robyn's hand with the Force, annoyed at the initiate's tardiness in lagging behind in the treasure room, given the Zeltron was the only one who provided them light. Apollyon extended the torch in front of her, stepping past the fearful Jania to shed light on what lay beyond. "No," she replied, gasping in awe. "You were just looking into a pit."She breathed. "A very deep pit." Chasm was more accurate. The passageway from the treasure chamber opened out into a vast, dark, unfathomably deep abyss upon whose precipice they stood. The chasm was too deep to see its bottom, and the ceiling and far walls of the subterranean cavern were evidently too distant to see; so far as Apollyon was concerned, they could have been on the edge of the world, blackness surrounding them in all directions. She couldn't help but shudder. The abyss was alive with the dark side, even stronger than it had been in the treasure chamber, but the chasm, as terrifying as it was, was not the source. The source was ahead of them, bleeding ghostly power into the cold, stale air, the source of the tomb's entire dark side nexus. Stretching out into the void was a bridge. At the end of that bridge was an island. And on that island was a sarcophagus. The faintest threads of lightning crackled with eerie silence at its base, the dark side so thick around the sarcophagus that its power manifested as visible energy even without a Force-user to channel it. From Apollyon's vantage point, the island of brown rock seemed impossibly suspended in the midst of the fathomless void, but she knew it was likely supported by a pillar sprouting from countless hundreds - or thousands - of meters below. It was, nonetheless, the most visually awe-inspiring presentation of a sarcophagus she had ever seen in all her years raiding the lost tombs of the Sith. The design of the infinite cavern drew all eyes front to the sarcophagus, danger surrounding its very existence. The sarcophagus itself was entirely plain, a simple, rectangular box of the same brown stone it rested on, lacking the gold and ornamentation found on other ancient Sith sarcophagi. It was as if the sarcophagus' owner needed nothing to magnify his or her glory, as if the sarcophagus had not been carved by the hands of mortal kings but rather fashioned by the natural forces of gods; the sarcophagus simply was, sprouting impossibly from the underworld of Korriban, and had been for untold millennia. It was that lack of ornamentation that made what rested on its lid stand out. Even from twenty meters away, Apollyon could see the single yellowed piece of parchment. Its details were not discernible, not from this distance nor from this angle, but Apollyon felt her breath hitch in her throat. Could this be the prophecy? Casting her eyes about, Apollyon found a stray pebble in short order. Teetering closer to the edge, she kicked the pebble into the abyss, counting in her head how long it took before it reached the bottom... 15... 16... 17... 30... 40... 50... She gulped. The pebble had produced no sound. It was still falling. Just how deep was that thing? It was as if they were perched on the lip of Chaos itself. "Well," she tittered nervously, "who wants to go first?" The bridge was not so narrow as to be particularly perilous, although walking it single-file would be wise. But Apollyon was very conscious of the fact that this sarcophagus was what all of the tomb's traps theretofore were designed to protect; more important than even the treasure interred with whichever mystery Lord truly rested in the false mausoleum of Naga Sadow, this sarcophagus was the ultimate and final secret of the tomb. |
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gorzan
Citizen
Posts: 93 
Likes: 60
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Post by gorzan on May 8, 2018 19:13:26 GMT -5
Ic: Darth Neoplix,
Location: tombs
Neoplix's eyes narrowed in anger and frustration, prepared to lash out at the disdainful Sith Lord. Then he paused, thinking. A test. Of course. He had never expressed interest in the sword before, and this was not interest, but an attempt to humble Neoplix and enforce superiority.
"Very well then," Neoplix thought. "If that's how it will be..."
He drew the sword on his back, and threw it towards catalyst, spinning through the air past him on his right side, simultaneously using the force to draw the blade of fire from the collapsed body of the dashade, flinging it past catalyst on his left side, and then burying the blades in the ground in front of him, using his telekinesis to form an X with the blades in front of him.
The heavy, two-handed blades sunk deep into the ground, but Neoplix's bow was deeper. He knew this was a critical moment, either the start of something great or the end of the line, and it wasn't the time to f*ck everything up.
He remained kneeling. "Yes... my master..."
Then he stood, following the troop of sith down the cavern, stopping when he saw the bridge. If he had a heart, it would have pounded. Falling for eternity into that deep a hole was something even he didn't want to do, despite his regeneration. However, he saw his inevitable fate coming; better to volunteer for a job and receive credit, than to be forced into it and receive hatred.
He stepped forward. "I'll cross. I could survive the fall, and theoretically eventually climb back up, although it's not a journey I would like to make."
He glanced back at his master with a nod, hoping he understood Neoplix's reasons. Then he began the journey, moving silent and catlike, on all fours, his boneless body allowing him to move with rapid speed while still testing each step, making sure it was safe.
His languid, fluid strides carried him almost as fast as a running man, but he knew distributing his weight on all fours would help lessen the chances of falling. He only hoped the bridge didn't collapse.
Tags: tomb tags (can't tag, using a phone)
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Volshe
Administrator
.: Empress
Posts: 229
Likes: 163
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Post by Volshe on May 8, 2018 23:37:26 GMT -5
IC: Darth Viscretus / Empress Volshe
The Triumphant / False Tomb of Naga Sadow
Within the medbay of the Triumphant, Volshe took the Alisha's hand for a moment, looking into her eyes, granting her Sword a serene peace and subtle healing - as much as she could manage given the overstretch of her managing both presences. The radiant illusion of the Empress then turned towards the cowled man who had greeted her prior, in the corridors, and the young woman with him - Sabba - who accompanied him. She paid no mind to Shilo, preferring to solve what mysteries she could. Her healing ability was great, and she was more than aware of such viruses existing, but she could not immediately fix the problem that had lay before her. At the same time, her eyes narrowed, directed at the twin who crossed her vision, inspecting. She sent a wave of vague threat, hoping to distance them. They had chosen an unfortunate time to approach, especially with the threat that faced her Sword grating on her nerves. Viscretus exhaled, following behind the rest of the group in the tomb - simultaneously gliding two steps forward aboard the Triumphant. She first turned to the medical team, nodding solemnly, a grant of permission that she only formally gave voice to. “ Do whatever is necessary to save her. Let me know at once if I can aid.” It was not her giving up, rather, her giving herself time to think. And though she was not leaving Alisha, though the doctor had saved her own life prior. though she had trusted him with her own survival during her own dire illness once before ... as she turned away from the team, she suddenly felt a gnawing concern take hold in her chest. She absently brought a hand to where the feeling burrowed deeper, rubbing vaguely, attempting to soothe it. Her feet brought her another step forward - both her illusion and physical forms coming to rest in their respective realms. In the tomb, Neoplix had begun to cross the perilous bridge of the chasm. Aboard the Triumphant, she had nearly approached the mysterious Sith who still accompanied Sabba. Her hand fell, but not abruptly. It outstretched, reaching towards the man and the edge of stone peninsula in both realities. As she plucked the parchment off the lid of the sarcophagus, barely visible in flickering firelight and encompassing blackness, her hand bid benevolent welcome to the man in the cowl, whose darkness mirrored the tomb’s auras. “ Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?” She smiled, despite the unease growing ever greater behind her fluttering heart. Within the tomb, her hand caught the parchment, and she turned, cautiously, to where Apollyon held the light. “ At last,” she murmured, cautious so as to not speak again in an erroneous setting, “ What we have come all this way for, here, in my hands.” TAGSET: Triumphant/UR and TAGSET: False Tomb of Naga Sadow
IC: Særli
The Triumphant Særli meandered the halls, following the footsteps of those who had rushed ahead. He was lucky he was Force-sensitive, because they hadn’t cared to drag him along to wherever the medbay was - and with the absolute chaos aboard the ship, he feared asking anyone would end with him locked in the increasingly-popular brig. “ Excuse me,” he mumbled, accidentally stumbling as he passed the imposing Dark Sider who stood near the doorway, narrowly avoiding actually colliding with him. Also something he would not want to do. He slipped by, more careful not to run into someone else - a feat given the bustling about in the room that smelled like artifical namana and bacta. He hated medbays. The Empress, still wearing Hjor’s meatsuit, was attempting to engage the guy he’d just squeezed past, and the medical staff (as well as the others) seemed busy enough without his asking questions to ease his own discomfort. After all, he was merely here to protect Hjörþrimul from some untimely demise, not worry about the Togruta looking positively peaked in the bed nearby. Nor what was so urgent they had the Empress Volshe herself worried. With sudden weariness, and rush of heat, he let his leatheris jacket fall from his shoulders, flinging it across the back of some cold, clinical chair and plopping himself into it. The Empress and Hjor were safe as they’d ever be here...maybe he could even grab some shuteye. It’d been at least a day, now...no wonder he was walking into walls and Sith. That didn’t explain the flu-like sensation, but hey, new ship, new species, new air circulation, new bugs. He shrugged. He crossed his legs and rest his cheek on his palm, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the beeping... and the stench of sickly namana that kept assaulting him as nurses rushed by. TAG: Lord Vassago , Shira , Darth Dreadwar , gorzan , dice , Padawan4687 , @lordjania , Darth Catalyst TAGSET: Triumphant/UR
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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 May 8, 2018 23:54:11 GMT -5
IC Darth AranciaGozanti-class Cruiser Suppressor , En Route to Oricon Arancia lacked the anatomy to snort, but a similarly derisive noise worked its way through his breathing apparatus as Darth Primus chatted up their captive audience. More accurately, their captive, Tacite Occultus now had an audience to vent his frustrations. Good. Arancia listened a while longer until Darth Voxyn graced them with his presence. Once they had convened and quieted down, Arancia spoke again. “Your cuffs will be loosed once we have reached Oricon, Anzat,” the Gand spat. “As for the rest of you, Arancia has gathered you here to give a debriefing. Walk with Arancia.” He began striding towards the cockpit as elegantly as his squat frame would allow. As he stepped away, Tacite would feel the cuffs around his wrists loosen ever so slightly, a subtle invitation to join the Sith. “Oricon was once lair to the Dread Masters,” Arancia explained as he slowly walked. “Some of the most powerful Sith to grace the Galaxy. Thousands of years ago, the Sith Emperor tasked them with figuring out the secrets of the Phobis devices, and by conjunction, learning to control Fear itself. They were the only beings in the galaxy able to harness this power. In a display of brashness, they betrayed their Emperor and fled here.” Arancia was thankful he had payed attention in his History of the Sith courses. “They built the Dread Fortress, and began plotting to take over the galaxy. Agents from the Sith Empire and the Jedi Order alike united to face a common enemy. One by one, the Masters fell, until Calphayus was the only one left. With his fellows defeated, and the Phobis devices no longer exerting their control over him, he wandered the planet alone and afraid. The Republic took him in, sparing him. Had the Empire found him first, Arancia doubts he would have been so lucky.” “Now we are tasked with acquiring the same devices which gave them the power to strike fear into the hearts of the Republic and Empire alike.” Arancia turned to look into the eyes of each of his wards. “Emperor Dreadwar seeks this power as his own. He has already dispatched a team to Dromund Kaas, where the Phobis Core was rumored to be hidden. You and Arancia are tasked with finding another piece here, in the Dread Fortress.” He turned back to look out of the main viewport. The planet loomed, a bright fiery sphere in the blackness around them. The pilot droid chirped something in binary and Arancia nodded in understanding. “The ship will touch down in two hours. You are free to do as you please until then.” The shackles around Tacite’s wrists tightened again, a warning not to overstep his boundaries. TAG: taciteoccultus, DarthVizuul, darthvoxyn
IC Darth Nostrem
Citadel Catacombs, Kaas City
Nostrem showed true curiosity at Solus’s response. A Sith Lord that wanted to learn from him? He was more than willing to indulge Solus’s request. Millennia of silence were not kind to the psyche, and Nostrem was a glutton for conversation anyways. “I assume you’re familiar with the art of extracting geothermal power from a planet, Lord Solus, but for the benefit of your apprentice, I’ll explain the process,” Nostrem excitedly began. “Under normal circumstances, one would need ready access to a fault line or a rift in the tectonic plates of a world.” He gestured to the pump in the center of the room. “Water is pumped down to the mantle of the planet where it is super-heated and rises back to a generator, pushing turbines to create electricity. It’s a very efficient system, with little need for improvement.” Nostrem was practically beaming at this point. “But I made it better. The inherent downsides to this system is the reliance on proximity to a source. With the Force, you can bring that source to you. It was masterful, a little bit of drilling and a few lost workers were all it took to bring the power of the planet to the Citadel. The Lava flowing beneath us is siphoned straight from the core of the planet, flowing back into a lake of magma and constantly kept cycling by the rotation of the planet itself!” He raised his arms in reverence of his own creation. “Isn’t it brilliant? Sadly the liquid in the pumps dried out centuries ago, so now this great masterpiece will never function again.” A cloud of dust assaulted Deleritas as he blew on one of the blank viewscreens. They looked more sophisticated than the simple door panels above, but contained the same amount of life as when they had first encountered them. If Nostrem was correct about the need for liquid within the pump it was not likely they would be able to bring the Citadel back to life. There was a valve on the pump that, while ancient and rusted, looked like it would allow them to glimpse what was actually in the pump. If they could again bring power to the screens littering the room there was a chance they could diagnose what would get the system running again. TAG: Darth Solus, Deleritas
IC: D-3PO
Docking Bay 416, Nar ShaddaaThe burly security officer’s eyebrows rose as he listened to Corvar’s spiel. “Sith? Here on Nar Shaddaa?” He turned to scan the crowd. “Kubjo…” he said quietly. “Stay here,” he ordered Corvar. “I’m going to track down this Sith scum and make sure he answers for what he did here.” He tapped the commlink that was hanging from his chest. “This is Sergeant Farlan. I have reports of a rogue Sith in hangar 418. Lock down all ships in the area and increase patrols. I don’t want anyone coming or leaving without a full security scan.” He glanced at the dead Zeltron before looking back down at Corvar and the Twi’lek. “I’m so sorry for your loss. They’ll pay for what they took.” With that he turned and took off running. D-3PO listened intently to Feros’s command. “I am unfamiliar with Shedu Maad. What are the hyperspace coordinates, Mister Feros?” He pulled the ramp shut and the ship started climbing. Reaper would feel the change in gravity ever so slightly but it would not hinder him in his efforts to load the Miraluka into the bacta tank. As the medical machine hummed to life, she began floating gracefully, almost beautifully in the healing liquid. Feros’s holotransmitter chirped soon after he had sent the message to Maladi. The message he received wasn’t a voice message, though. It was a simple text note, with Maladi's personal seal underscoring the two words displayed in the air. I know.TAG: trentongordon, darthkain7, darthferos
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Post by darthkain7 on May 9, 2018 0:28:09 GMT -5
IC: Darth Kain Location: Nar Shaddaa " I've got to get her help!" Corvar called to the officer before bolting, hoping the officer was so focused on finding Sith in the area that the words would be heard but still ignored, recalled upon the moment such a memory was necessary but not so important in the officer's mind that he would try to stop Corvar from running. The darksider, the Twi'lek still in his arms, made his way through the crowd, beings letting him pass as they assumed he was running toward some medical facility. He was not. Bay 313. That was the one Feros said to go to. Well, he didn't say it technically. But all the same, Corvar was in the right place. He went one floor down, just as he was told to, and upon doing so saw Feros' ship. It was a Bes'ulik ship, painted a blood red and accented with steel gray. It was a pretty ship, as well as a menacing one. Corvar hadn't bothered remembering the ship's name, but he did remember what to say to the astromech waiting in the ship. It whistled loudly and bounced around in its slot, probably demanding to know who Corvar was. It was an educated guess, since Corvar had no idea what the kriff this droid was saying. " I'm a new friend of Feros'," he said to the astromech. " We're meeting him at the Mists. He said you'd know the way." TAGS: Darth Catalyst trentongordon darthferos TAGSET: Corbos |
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Post by darthvoxyn on May 9, 2018 0:50:29 GMT -5
IC: Darth Voxyn Gozanti Cruiser Suppressor, en route to Oricon With a bow Voxyn turned and left the bridge heading back to his quarters with Artemis in tow. "Oricon huh, that explains why Artemis was so agitated when we entered the system." Voxyn said to himself as he entered his quarters. "I wonder what this Phobis device is supposed to be... I guess I'll be finding out soon enough." Sitting back down Voxyn resumed his meditation while Artemis curled up next to him and went back to sleep. The room again lit by the rising and falling of the flames of the candles. TAG: Darth Catalyst, taciteoccultus, DarthVizuul |
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Post by taciteoccultus on May 9, 2018 1:16:22 GMT -5
IC: Tacite Occultus/ CrystalLocation: Gozanti-class Cruiser Suppressor, En Route to Oricon Tacite returns to his quarters alone to wait. As the door closes behind him the voices begin again as he gets angry, only this time one speaks above the rest. " That fool Gand thinks he can toy with you by giving you hope when loosening the cursed things, before taking it away by tightening them once more. They will be the next one, yes, the next one to feed your appetite." As the anger seethes through him Tacite drops to his knees on the floor. One of the tentacles hidden in the bridge of his nose slides out and pulls the crystal from under his shirt to eye level. " The Gand will prove a good meal but he is not done stewing yet. For now we wait. The others seemed to show him respect, meaning he will be a harder target to overcome." " Yes. The others. Use them to get your meal. Convince them to help you capture the Gand. Once you have him the others are yours for the taking as well." Tacite pauses to ponder this idea, then answers. " The problem is we don't know how loyal they are to the Gand. If I make a suggestion I should make sure the odds are in my favor first, right?" The crystal seems to grow warmer for a second, or was that just Tacite's imagination. " The prey is marked, time to enjoy the fun of the hunt. You know what to do. Follow your instincts." With those final words the voices subside, and Tacite lets the crystal fall back into his shirt as the tentacle hides once more. Tacite has a determined look in his eye as he stands, ready for what is to come in this voyage, and ready for the thrill of the hunt. TAG: Darth Catalyst darthvoxyn DarthVizuul |
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on May 9, 2018 2:35:22 GMT -5
IC: Ermir Marcus The Subterranean Sept, beneath the Sith Temple, Korriban "This power that I feel," Arcane began, once he had caught up with the long strides of his teacher, "it's what drove that miner to kill. Why does it not do the same to us?" Ermir Marcus did not reply initially, distracted as his eyes keenly swept every nook and cranny of the crimson-lit passageway as they continued gingerly forwards. Arcane was right. A miasma of murderous dark side energy permeated the passageway like the blood it was hued in, amplifying the two Sith's fear, anger and rage. Ermir had been exposed to such dark side nexus before, whether it be the tombs in the Valley of the Dark Lords on dangerous expeditions to gather lost alchemical recipes, or in the presence of the almighty Emperor. All dark side nexus had subtly different tinges to them, from the twisted, maddening creep of evil mist on Dromund Kaas to the grandiosity of cold majesty associated with Korriban. "It will," Ermir responded, stopping short to look at Arcane, "if we are not careful. The weaker the mind, the more permeable it is to evil influences. Shield your mind as I taught you in the hall, and you will be able to recognise the subtle pull of the power you feel. When your thoughts bend to directions you do not intend, take a mental step back, retreat into memories or distractions, and fight the unnatural pull."Ermir shrugged. "It is difficult to describe, but you will know. Think of it like a black hole, pulling your thoughts in one direction. If you go past the event horizon, every direction, forward, backward and sideways, will be the direction it wants. You have to resist it before it builds up to that stage. At the same time, do not ignore it altogether. There is power here, power to be used if your mind can withstand the pressure."
Turning away from the initiate, Ermir proceeded onwards, leading Arcane around the passageway's bend. There was light coming up from ahead, not from the crimson sconces, but a faint blueish light. Ermir frowned, his pace slowing, as he detected the distinct sound of running water. After about thirty meters, the passageway opened out into a vast subterranean cavern. The cavern was easily a hundred meters across along each dimension, its distant ceiling veritably dripping with stalactites of brown rock. Small holes in the ceiling allowed faint beams of Horuset's sunlight to filter through, catching particles of dust in pillars of scintillation. The light reflected gaily off a moat of water which encircled an elegant but crumbling five-storey building of reddish stone. The moat was deep, fed by waterfalls streaming from hollows in the stepped walls of the cavern, and the water was murky with mystery.  Fortunately, there were four stone bridges crossing the deluged abyss, one from each quadrant of the roughly rectangular moat. At each corner of the building was an obelisk in the typical Korribani style, bearing inscriptions too distant for Ermir to make out, but he doubted they were of any import; the building's arched entrance was invitingly open. "Well, isn't this just beautiful?" Ermir gestured around him, speaking in a tone that left it ambiguous as to whether he was being sarcastic or not. "Eerily beautiful, that is. I assume we progress across the nearest bridge and walk into that structure there. I would bet my bottom dollar that is either a forgotten temple or a tomb of an old Sith Lord."
TAG: Arcane
IC: Darth DreadwarImperial Medbay, Sith Temple, Korriban"Indeed," Darth Dreadwar's hollow whisper emanated forth, the empty hood of ashen death defying Zhav'vorsa's attempts to find a flicker of life within. "Here on Korriban, you will find more than the power to lead your barbaric hordes beyond Dathomir." The Emperor began to walk forwards, not caring to step around Zhav'vorsa but instead expecting the Warlord to make way. His hood turned as he passed. "You will find the power to kill the Spirits."Dreadwar's blasphemous suggestion would not be lost on Zhav'vorsa. The ancient Emperor referred to the gods worshipped on Dathomir, mythical beings whose poisonous essence many Nightsisters and Nightbrothers alike believed were what they were channeling and shaping when using what they conceived of as "magic." The Fanged God, the Winged Goddess, the Mother... These were avatars central to every Dathomirian's life, and Dreadwar's notion that they could be killed would seem absurd; no one had ever seen the Spirits. The Spirits were beyond comprehension, beyond the grasp of the mortal mind, let alone beyond the grasp of the mortal hand. Whether Dreadwar spoke in metaphor, the Emperor left unclear, as he continued. "Now let us retrieve Coatlec from his rest, and make haste to prepare you for the task ahead."The Bastard Lord was engrossed in reading the book Dreadwar had gifted him, when he felt the Emperor's mental pull on him, summoning him from the chamber in which he had enjoyed a genuinely luxurious massage. However, he still had time to read the page he had flipped to: "I believeth this ſtrange power to defang Death beeſt learnable on Prakith, whither one of its Proſcrib'd Practitioners, mention'd in the Trayus, is referenc'd as having fled to, after an upriſing 'gainſt that gent by his Rivals. Darth andeddu, his name waſt, and I believeth, if 't be true, I followeth the obſcure Hyperlanes into the Deep Core of the Galaxy, the Olde Power bethought loſt ſhall once again beeſt in the hands of a living Sorcerer of Tſis."Below the text was a crude drawing of a mummified lich, wearing tattered black robes and a conical crown of midnight blue. While flipping through the grim tome would no doubt be tempting, reading any further would also be unwise; when summoned by the Emperor, one responded with all immediacy. TAG: Lord Vassago, Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror
IC: Shado VaoRestricted Section, Library of the New Jedi Praxeum, Yavin IV Page 1 of Strange Inconsistencies in Sith History, by Jorak Uln
( OOC: Can keep reading, and request another page for next update, or move on to a different scroll or book) Shado Vao nodded at Jarich's selection, leaving him to his research as his senses detected a Jedi Padawan hovering on the periphery. "Excuse me a moment," Vao said, turning and walking out of the Restricted Section, opening and closing the great oak doors behind him, into the main body of the Jedi Academy's library. "Is there something I can do for you?" Shado asked Gis'pefu, noticing the Twi'lek standing between the library's imposingly tall shelves. He recognised her; she had participated in the battle against the Terentatek, but that did not entirely account for her presence in the library, even if, of course, it was not off-limits to students - unlike the Restricted Section. Still, her proximity to the Restricted Section was slightly suspicious, and Shado couldn't help but feel Gis'pefu might have followed Shado and his two apprentices. |
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Post by darthferos on May 9, 2018 3:11:01 GMT -5
IC: Darth Feros "I know." Maladi had replied quickly. Feros could feel bile rising in his throat. He hated her. One day her time would come. "Yes. We're leaving Nar Shaddah. I'm taking them to the Mists." He cut the transmission. No more needed to be said. He then turned and triggered the ship's internal comms box on the bulkhead. "664.878.941 3PO. And hurry. They'll be locking down the port soon. We don't have much time." He said into the speaker. He'd know those coordinates by heart until he died. He'd spent much of his younger life there. Feros turned and walked towards where Reaper had taken the girl. He wondered what the young man planned to do with her. "I'd say leave her until we get to Panic. Thats where we're going. It's an asteroid I inherited from my master done years ago. It has far better facilities for this sort of thing." Taken. That was the right word really. Not inherited. He'd taken it when he killed Darth Mirdoris. When he'd freed himself. His comm link chirped. It was R73D. Good astromech. "Yes 3D. It's alright. Corvar is a friend. Meet us at Panic Hold. Welcome aboard Skorn Corvar." Darth Catalyst darthkain7 trentongordon |
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on May 9, 2018 4:50:55 GMT -5
IC: Unknown Beyond Shadows, watching the affairs of the Artificer The woman smiled broadly as Ramage succeeded in channeling her power, and the power of the realm, into a shearing shard of darkness, casting it beyond the realm of nightmare into the waking world of the physical. The affairs of the shadow plane were entirely veiled from the crew of the Artificer, as Karina coaxed as much power as the freighter's engines could muster from the copilot's chair, as Jacen Thilly prayed to whoever would listen to spare them from the pilot's, as Voidwalker focused on performing the impossible with his rudimentary command of the Force. To Voidwalker's eyes, the impossible would have seemingly become possible, as the ion cannon quaked before his outstretched hand. The violent storm of violet electricity was surging wildly out of control; instead of coalescing into a concentrated web of ion energy, it was channeling inwards into a white-hot sphere. And then, inexplicably, it winked out, smoke curling away from the massive cannon into the void of space. The woman beyond shadows knew its cause. Ramage had cast all the invisible energy of the nightmare realm at the Wrath of Vader, overloading the weapon's capacitors and causing it to short-circuit. But to Voidwalker, it would seem as if his daring gambit had worked, as if his power over the Force was that of a living god! The Artificer sped off, plunging through the dusty atmosphere of Korriban away from the marauding Wrath of Vader, and Jacen whooped and hollered, singing Voidwalker praises as the specter of death vanished from sight behind the clouds. "We made it!" he shouted. "Thank the kriffing universe for you, Voidwalker! I thought you were some wannabe apprentice. You didn't tell us you were a Dark Lord of the Sith! I never fucking... It just stopped working! Did ya see that, Karina? OH YEAH! Lord Voidwalker! LORD VOIDWALKER!"The scene faded from Ramage's sight, as the noir grey of the shadow realm encroached on his vision, swallowing up the bird's eye view of the Horuset system. Once again, he was looking at a glossy reflective wall of obsidian, the woman standing over his shoulder. "Well done, Ramage," she purred, a taloned hand patting his shoulder. "Now you taste the power kept Beyond Shadows, the power that could be yours if you satisfy our bargain." Her yellow eyes glanced at him. "Now, speak more of this other. What did she say of my destined vessel? Who is she? How do you know her?" It seemed the entity's curiosity was roused to the extent she did not care about the lapse in her carefully calculated aura of omniscience. TAG: darthramage , Darth Voidwalker , kurtishenschel
IC: Sulat Xon / Doctor LakThe Triumphant, hyperspaceSulat's grin widened, showing his pearlescent white teeth. "Ah, the pathetic Jedi has sense," he chortled. "You did not notice Tano's injury, but I did. Ergo, I am no product of your mind." Blazing yellow eyes met Nox's own, consuming his entire vision as the dark apparition laughed and laughed and laughed. "What am I?" The voice reverberated in Nox's skull, as the baleful light faded, leaving stars in Nox's own eyes as he awakened, lying on his back on the cold durasteel deck, staring up at the stark halogen lights of the brig. "I am the one who purged the drugs from your system, permitting you to awaken." Sulat's voice had faded with the vision, becoming a gentle whisper crawling in Nox's skull, at the very periphery of awareness. "I am the one who will guide you through the lands of the dead. I am the one who will help you... if you help me."As Nox looked around, he would be able to see the two Imperial Knights standing beside the closed cell door, clad in crimson armour. They were frowning at him. "You're not supposed to be awake," the one on the left said, hand dropping to the lightsaber at her waist. She was not concerned, exactly; Nox's hands were cuffed behind his back. But the occurrence was unusual. Elsewhere on the Triumphant, meanwhile, Doctor Lak was looking awkwardly away from Alisha Tano as she sobbed, wanting to soothe his patient but unsure of how to do so. What could he say? That he knew of no way to combat this nanogene spore? That no conventional medicine would work against such an infection? He could only hope her significant other arrived soon. The boy - Lak had seen him before, but never remembered his name - would likely be able to calm Tano some. Several concerned parties had arrived already. Shira A'dola as he had requested, but she was not alone; there was a young tattooed girl Lak did not recognise, an older bearded man in a dark hooded robe, a young Vraeling male Lady A'dola had introduced as one Shilo, and a lady implausibly wearing the late Empress' face - a Changeling, Lak gathered. "Excuse me," Lak coughed politely, "I don't want to crowd the patient. While I appreciate your concern, Miss," he glanced at the assumed Changeling, "I would like you to wait outside, please. You, and the gentleman," he gestured at Vassago, not directing Sabba to leave likewise, as he had noticed Alisha attempting to strike up a conversation with the tattooed girl. Anything to keep her distracted.
He turned to Lady A'dola, dropping his voice to a hushed whisper. "To answer your question, milady, I am not sure. The infection has progressed too far, I believe, for her immune system to fight it off, even with aid. But it might buy us some time."He glanced at Alisha, before leaning in closer to Shira. "I will state frankly that I am out of my depth here, milady. Very little of what we know about fighting viral or bacterial infections will apply to this nanotechnological weapon. It appears to be attempting to rewrite her genetic code. It is possible we could fight fire with fire, and introduce nanites to her bloodstream to try and disassemble the enemy nanogene spores one-by-one. There might be some sort of chemical to purge it from her system, although what, I cannot think. But this would all be entirely experimental. I was hoping you might be able to, ah, Force it out?" Lak's lack of understanding of the Febrayasi's supernatural power, like most not sensitive to its subtle energy, was obvious. TAG: Shira , Lord Vassago , Volshe , Padawan4687 , Darth Voidwalker
IC: Darth BellorumTorture Chamber, Sith Temple, KorribanWith a faint crackle, the lightning vanished from the corner of Zul'tar's sight, and Bellorum withdrew her hand, leaving a singed imprint on his cheek. While the vicious assault had abated, the pain it had caused did not fade; she had burned his skin, leaving an ugly injury that was in dire need of bacta patches if Zul'tar did not want to be left with another disfiguring scar. Of course, Darth Bellorum did not seem to be the sort of Sith Lady who would be forthcoming with bacta patches. She leered down at him, cruelty mingling with frustration in her eyes. "I'm not doing this just for kicks," she said. "I'm doing this because my master wants to know what you know about your own damned culture. The Fanged God is one of your precious Dathomirian Spirits, yes, that you and your backwards people pray to?"
She shook her head. "Are you so ignorant of your own traditions? You can tell me nothing of your religious texts, what they say about the Mother? Maybe you are as brainless as you look. Or maybe I should just hand you over to one of your people, who wisely embraced the power of the Sith. I hear he's particularly good at beating the truth out of people." |
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Post by darthkain7 on May 9, 2018 12:15:29 GMT -5
IC: Zul’tarLocation: Torture Chamber, Korriban
The brute shook his head at the thought of Zhav’vorsa coming in here and further beating him senseless. Even in exile he'd heard tales of the warlord’s power and sadism, and he wouldn't dare cross him of all beings in the galaxy. “ It's been years since I was forced to study that garbage,” Zul’tar growled. This was true. While in his time as a great warrior for his clan, he had been taught about the Winged Goddess and Fanged God. That they were necessary for keeping balance in the universe, and that the Nightsisters could tap into their power via various magicks. But tales of a Mother? They were familiar but… blurry. As if someone had tried wiping away writing upon a dry erase board with their bare hands. He tried to make the writing, so to speak, more clear as he spoke; he didn't need any more scars today. “ The Winged Goddess and Fanged God keep balance in the galaxy, and they give the Nightsisters their power,” Zul’tar spoke. “ The Mother…” His eyes widened, as speaking the name opened his mind to see the writing on the board. His wife had been killed by a group of rogue Dathomirian cultists. She had been ripped away from him in all her beauty. The day after her death he found her corpse, along with the bodies of the cultists. Carved into the bodies, trees, and stone had been one word. MOTHERTelling that Darth Bellorum intended on torturing him further if he didn't continue, Zul’tar stomached the sickness he began to feel and went on. “ All I know about the Mother is that the monsters who killed my wife worshipped Her above all other gods. They killed themselves before I could do the job myself.” TAGS: Darth Dreadwar TAGSET: Beast Hunt
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Arcane
Citizen
Posts: 45
Likes: 30
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Post by Arcane on May 9, 2018 12:44:09 GMT -5
IC: Arcane The Subterranean Sept, beneath the Sith Temple, Korriban Arcane listened to Ermir's words intently. He would do what he must if his mind started to bend. He noticed Ermir catch the sound of running water. As they turned the corner he looked up at the sight before him. He was in awe. The building, the water, the bridges, the colors... It was fantastic. He had never seen anything so beautiful. He took in a deep breath. His nose filled with the new scents. His ears twitched with the new sounds. Everything was constructed so well. He was getting lost in the nature of the situation. His pace quickened and he felt as if he needed to get into the building as fast as his legs could carry him. He felt, uneasy. Ermir's words circulated in his head, so he began to take himself back in his thoughts. //Run.// That's all that he could hear. That's all his legs would do. All he could see was his homeworld littered with bodies and chaos. His tears we're no longer flowing, there was no time to cry. He needed to get to safety. Somewhere, anywhere but here. He dodged the grasping hands of Mandalorian soldiers as he made his way to a small underground cavern. It was deep, but not overly so. This was his only chance. Jump in and hope he would be able to escape the slaughter the rest of his clan faced. He did. His little legs mustered the strength to just jump with little thinking. Almost as if they had done it of their own free will. He landed with a hard thud. The pain seared through his legs as he crawled to the deepest point in the cavern. He hushed his breathing and listened. The footsteps of soldiers were overhead. Small cracks in the top of the tiny space let him see flickering lights and shadows. Most from the Mandalorians marching by, some with prisoners; some still searching. "Over here! We haven't checked this shit hole yet!" A voice carried by the echoes of the cavern reached his ears. He swallowed hard and squished himself as far back into the small space as he possibly could.// Ermir's words broke his mind's thoughts. Something about bridges. He nodded. Agreeing to something, though not completely sure what. He walked back to Ermir, his quickened pace had placed him ahead of his teacher. He grumbled to himself as they both walked on. TAG: Darth Dreadwar |
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darthramage
Citizen
*currently entombed*
Posts: 33
Likes: 39
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Post by darthramage on May 9, 2018 14:38:29 GMT -5
IC: Darth Ramage
Beyond ShadowsRamage watched as the Ion cannon overloaded, unable to diffuse the massive build-up of heat from the damaged heat sinks. The small ship which was apparently his salvation streaked down towards the dusty planet, safe from harm. The "woman" beside him promised the ability to permanently wield this dark power as well as freedom. In exchange for her compliance in his own resurrection, the Sith was to find and protect her chosen vessel, one his new apprentice Jania had mentioned before. "Darth Viscretus was the one who brought her into Beyond Shadows originally. Jania Kio was an acolyte on Korriban, a peon of some grand new sith order and a member of some apparently important tomb expedition." Ramage had his doubts of the stability of such an empire, and the importance of the tomb, but he had indeed felt power from some of the Sith while communicating with his new apprentice through the tear in the void Abeloth had caused earlier.
"She was driven by rage when she told me of Viscretus, but beyond that, I do not know. During what felt like the months she was with me I told the child of a Sith temple I frequently used on Korriban to enter states of deep ethereal meditation.Ramage paused, it felt like a different lifetime thinking about his last time he entered the temple's dvasi kolona. The Sith name for the glyphed chamber that kept his corporeal form from total decay. "While seeking ancient knowledge from the aether spirits and drawing on their powers to fuel my own I was trapped. My apprentice, Lord Urmage, locked me away by severing my connection to the material plane. Unable to awaken, I have been here for centuries. I thought her my only opportunity at freedom, but you have changed things. If she attempts to damage your vessel, the apprentice will die." Ramage gazed out on the planet below. He almost felt as if another presence had entered his perception, but he could not be sure.
IC: Jarich Skywalker
Praxeum Library
Jarich was surprised. This old scroll wasn't filled with tales of Banite lords and cryptic holocrons like he expected. This was talking about the ancient history of the Galaxy and one of the names he recognized was Malachor, though not as a grassland. It was a cursed planet, a tipping point during an age of war brought about by the Mandalorians. He was consumed by the first page and was shocked to see mention of a God as he further unraveled the scroll. "I didn't 't know the Sith had gods. I figured they all considered themselves the pinnacle of creation." He remarked quietly to his master without breaking eye contact with the parchment, never noticing the Twi'Lek who had been silently walking along the nearby shelves. Darth Dreadwar , patrickx31
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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 May 10, 2018 13:12:12 GMT -5
IC Darth Catalyst Sarcophagus, Beneath Sadow's Tomb
Catalyst could feel Neoplix’s anger and frustration rising behind him. He was certain the Gen’Dai was going to make an attempt on his life right here and he would get the pleasure of teaching the acolyte another painful lesson. He tensed himself as he heard the sword singing through the air. Then he saw the flaming sword tear itself from the flesh of the deceased Dashade. He glanced behind him, keeping track of both swords as they raced towards him and readying a telekinetic blast should they attempt to pierce his flesh. The swords instead embedded themselves in the ground in front of him, crossing hilts. He turned to see Neoplix kneeling down on the ground. "Yes... my master..." Kriiiiiff…. Catalyst hadn’t expected Neoplix to actually submit to him. Now he not only had two artifacts that he didn’t need, but also the weight of an arrogant apprentice. The implications of this situation were dire indeed. Catalyst had certainly entertained the idea of taking an apprentice as of late but Neoplix was far from what he wanted. The initiate was brash, undisciplined and overly reliant on his natural physiological advantage. He would be difficult to train. As the rest of the party vacated the treasure room, Catalyst strengthened his resolve. More tests then. As Sidious was to Vader and Maul before him, as Bane was to Zannah, as Kun was to Qel-Droma, Catalyst was going to be a harsh Master to Neoplix. If the Gen’Dai wished to be great, he first had to see that he was not. If he wished to be powerful, he first must be shown his weakness. Catalyst ripped the blades from the ground in front of him. The poison would prove handy, but he had no need for the flaming one. Perhaps a gift for Apollyon after I sever Neoplix’s overly bloated head with it. He stashed them across his belt, removing the rusted blade and casting it to the ground. He called Xirr’s discarded armor to him as well. Neoplix had prostrated himself to him, after all, and was begging for a suit of armor. Catalyst was willing to oblige. Besides, the armor wouldn’t do much more than hinder his natural abilities with its rigid form.
Catalyst followed the group out of the room hauling his newly acquired treasures. The chasm of the next room yawned threateningly in front of them. A very rickety looking bridge was erected between them and a sarcophagus that stood alone, surrounded on all sides by the pit. Neoplix turned back to look at Catalyst, perhaps seeking approval, before he hunkered down on all fours and began crawling across the bridge. Catalyst suppressed another eyeroll. He could think of far more efficient ways to get over there that scarcely involved the bridge. His hand twitched. The urge to fling Neoplix across the chasm was incredibly strong, but Catalyst suppressed it. Instead, as Apollyon had done, he too found a small stone on the floor. His hands being full, he picked it up by will of the Force and flung it gently towards the sarcophagus, seeking to find any traps that may be triggered by touching it.
TAG: Darth Dreadwar ,Volshe ,Shira ,dice ,Padawan4687 ,@lordjania ,gorzan
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Post by trentongordon on May 11, 2018 9:41:41 GMT -5
IC: Reaper Location: Nar Shaddaa Reaper after putting the Miralukan in the bacta tank went back to working on his ship. He'd finish it if it were the last thing he'd do. He put the new transparisteel in and began to fix it to the ship. He then moved onto painting it. He put swirls on it (similar to Celtic swirls) and putting a few hidden words in a hidden language he made himself. After finishing he hopped in and felt the controls a bit getting a feel for it. He quite liked the feeling of them. He played around with them and learned what all of them did despite knowing already. He felt as of the ship were him knowing exactly what its weakness and strengths were as well as what would need to be fixed in the future and what wouldn't need to be fixed for a while. He was home in this small fighter. Tag: Darth Catalyst, darthkain7, darthferos |
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Post by Darth Voidwalker on May 11, 2018 12:05:51 GMT -5
IC: Voidwalker The Artificer, en route to Korriban Voidwalker stood solid as a stone, Staring at his hands, the impossible had literally become possible and it was incredible. As the Captain Continuously praised Voidwalker, all he could manage was a look of shock. It must have been some sort of miracle that Voidwalker was there in the crews time of need, yet Voidwalker knew that miracles didn’t exist when the Force was involved. The ion cannon simply cut out, there was no other explanation for it, Voidwalker had mastered the Force and saved the entire crew of the Artificer. By the Force it is true! The BLOOD OF DREADWAR RUNS THROUGH MY VEINS! I have heard of the Force coming to those in times of need, but this, this must be some sort of hidden potential that I was able to tap into when I really need it. I must learn to harness this potential. This must have been why Garn was so hesitant to help me when we first met, he must have been able to sense my suppressed power. It matters not, I will be one of the greatest Sith Lords history as ever known. Today just marks the beginning of my greatness!Voidwalker’s thoughts were quickly ended by the sound of the Captain’s continued whooping and hollering. It only seemed appropriate that he would be so joyous, after all without Voidwalker they would all be dead by now. A smirk crawled across the face of Voidwalker as he addressed Thilly. “Ah yes Captain, we’re all so fortunate that I am here. I tried to subtly tell you all that I had the situation handled and under control. I do hope you understand why I kept my true power hidden.” Voidwalker would play off this charade for as long as he could. Eventually the young Sith would become even more arrogant, his greatest flaw. After a few moments of basking in the praises from Captain Thilly, it was time to get down to business once more. Voidwalker approached Karina hoping to get some answers out of her. “So we must be getting close to landing soon, how are you holding up? I have been wondering about something and there’s something that I wanted to ask you. With everything we’ve been through and you find out that you’re Force sensitive, are you really just going to leave when this job is done? Wait before you say anything, hear me out. Stay here with me. I’ll help you build your powers and train you. Plus between my incredible mastery of the Force and once I have my artifact from the tomb of Ramage, if it exists, there’s no doubt that I won’t be in the upper society of the Sith and you there with me. What do you say?” TAG: Darth Dreadwar kurtishenschel |
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Post by Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror on May 12, 2018 3:21:04 GMT -5
IC: Darth Coatlec
Location: Room adjacent to the Medbay, Sith Temple, Korriban
Coatlec proceeded to scour the next page of the Book of Pain for more knowledge, and at the bottom of the page, there was a crude portrait of a mummified lich, someone that could most likely be identifiable as, "Darth Andeddu," said the bastard. "The Immortal God-King of Prakith, he once was. It would make sense that he gained his immortality through the art of Pain," he finished before reading the text above the image. He was always one to look at the pictures in books before reading the text, no matter what the book was. That next page's text read: "I believeth this ſtrange power to defang Death beeſt learnable on Prakith, whither one of its Proſcrib'd Practitioners, mention'd in the Trayus, is referenc'd as having fled to, after an upriſing 'gainſt that gent by his Rivals. Darth andeddu, his name waſt, and I believeth, if 't be true, I followeth the obſcure Hyperlanes into the Deep Core of the Galaxy, the Olde Power bethought loſt ſhall once again beeſt in the hands of a living Sorcerer of Tſis."
"It seems I was right indeed," said Coatlec has he finished reading the text. However it was at this moment that he felt the cold, ever so slight tug in his mind's eye. It was the Emperor, beckoning him to come back to the other room. When given a command by one's God, even a slight command such as come into the room, no one dares disobey said God. But the book would also be of great importance to Coatlec. In due time, he would surely need Pain to survive. So he picked up the book, flipped to the next page, and looked at it while he was making haste back to the other room. Once he arrived back in the presence of The Emperor and Zhav'vorsa, he shut the book and held it in his right arm close to his chest. TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Lord Vassago
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Post by Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror on May 12, 2018 4:10:49 GMT -5
IC: Xar
Location: The Mysterious Room
Xar was ready to get the kriff out of this damn room. He could not stand to stay any longer. The two karking mongrels behind him were slowly rising to their feet and responded to the Anzat's demands to leave. "Yeah, sure, sure," said the one. And, "Only if you don’t eat us...Or give us to that...thing," said the other. "Sure, I'll keep you two karkwads around as long as you stay out of my way. But the first stupid thing you do, you'll be gone before you can even say 'kriff.' But until then, consider yourselves in my care. Regretfully," Xar barked at the two men. Bah, I'd eat them if I needed to. But they'd probably taste worse than Bantha shit, if I'm being honest with myself.
It comes!
It cosem!
Ti cesom!
Oyu tsum waya! Oyu tsum waya! Het kye ot het rodo is duner het rochno....orf het gihit rodo!
"Well that's creepy," Xar said in a hushed tone, so as to not give away the faint feeling of fear to the other two, and especially not to Iramus. He certainly couldn't give off fear in the presence of another Sith. But that wouldn't matter anymore. For the Anzat heard a loud thud, and saw Iramus writhing on the floor, black spurting out of fissured knuckles and blood pouring out of what used to be his eyes, now empty sockets. "Well kark, if he was gonna die anyway, I could've just had another meal. Damn." Xar had no sympathy for the dead man. From the little he knew of him, Xar knew that Iramus was devoted to his books, hardly ever getting out in the field of battle, or even Xar's beloved field of collecting Sith archaeological artifacts. But now he was the only Sith in the party, and he'd have to fend for himself if he wanted to keep his little team and himself alive. It wouldn't be too hard of a task. It wasn't the first time he'd been on his own.
One of the other men let out a shriek and said, "What’d that voice say? ‘Sit some kinda chanti...Holy kriffing kark." Xar shook his head and turned back to the man saying, "Shut your kriffing mouth. Do you know how to be quiet for one second? Now you both try to find a way out of here. Make yourselves useful."
TAG: Volshe, darthramage (if needed)
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Post by Darth Voidwalker on May 12, 2018 20:23:07 GMT -5
IC: Nox Talus The Triumphant, hyperspace Nox was waking up, his vision cloudy before clearing up to the bright halogen lights that hung to illuminate the cell. His memories of Sulat Xon fading away from the front of his mind like a hazy dream, the dark beings words now an echo. As Nox laid there on the floor for a few moments his other sense started to return. The cell stunk of sweat, body oder, and other bodily fluids. The floor was cold and hard, and his body ached horribly. To his own surprise his hands were bound behind him. He should have known better to have realized that a Jedi prisoner wouldn’t be allowed to keep his hands free. The more he noticed his senses, the more he could feel his body in pain. Turning his head he finally realized the two guards standing at the door. They were dressed in the traditional crimson robes of the Imperial Knights. The guard standing to the left must have seen Nox starting to move because the guard quickly addressed him. "You're not supposed to be awake.” How am I going to get out of here? I have to see if Lady Tano is still alive. But first I have to get out of this prison.Nox mustered the strength the force himself to sit up. As he sat up he let out a gasp as pain shot through him. Keeping his head down and concentrating on the floor he spoke in a dry raspy tone barely loser than a whisper. “Please, I’m in pain. I need medical attention. I can’t bare this pain for long.” Hopefully this gets me a step closer to getting out of here. If you’re going to guide me through the lands of the dead, then I will lead you through the lands of the living.TAG: Darth Dreadwar |
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Post by patrickx31 on May 12, 2018 20:35:34 GMT -5
IC: Gis'pefuPraxeum LibraryThe young twi'lik would nearly jump as the jedi master asked what she was doing. And for a minute she legit froze. She was a deer in headlights. She couldn't tell the master that she was curious as hell about what was beyond those oak doors. And to see her fellow do in like he was special...well she wanted to get a little peek in herself. "M-Master Vao. Nice to see you on this wonderous day. I was just...admiring the craftsmanship of the door. I wasn't trying to peek into the restricted section without your permission." Gis laughed nervously as she fiddled with her lekku. ' Smoooth Gis'pefu. Real smooth.' She thought to herself as she tried not to make eye contact with the jedi master. darthramage, Darth Dreadwar,
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