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Post by trentongordon on Jun 1, 2018 17:37:02 GMT -5
IC: So'Kard Location: Outside Dreadwar's Tomb So'Kard with his now red glowing eyes felt reinvigorated and felt no pain his body returned to life but yet also dead. His master had seen fit to gift him to the only person brave enough to fight him one on one. He had found a respect for this woman and hoped to find more people like her. He cracked his neck hearing the wonderful CRICK and CRACK of his joints and bones. He was quite happy with his new body. He walked next to the pale woman of the Sith. She didn't appear Sith but neither had his master. He was confused at what made them Sith but shook his head. He didn't care. All he cared about was that he'd serve a purpose once more. A purpose fitting himself. He cracked his knuckles and looked at the ragtag group of Sith. He saw no kills on them. He wondered why if the Sith were as mighty as his master why didn't they carry their kills? Where were the skulls? The scars. Perhaps under their clothes? He didn't completely understand their culture but he didn't care so much. He was a warrior, a weapon. Mindless. He was a walking, moving weapon. Now he was all the more terrifying. He was undead. "Master what happens now? They can't understand me. How am I to take orders from the woman? She does not speak Dashade nor do I speak her language. Perhaps you may gift her something to understand as you do?" He said in Dashade. He did not wish to incur the wrath of his master for he had learned long ago he was not a being to oppose. Any opposition would be foolhardy and trying to deter his master from releasing his anger or trying to get out of it was worse than simply accepting it. He hoped his recommendation would not be something he would see as punishable. Tag: @lordjania, @darthdreadwar dice @viscretus gorzan @padawan9187 |
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Post by Deleted on Jun 1, 2018 18:47:03 GMT -5
IC: Jania Kio Location: Tomb of Ku’ar Danar As the voice had addressed the rest of the group, Jania was off in her own little world. Closing her eyes as she rested her head back against the wall she thought back to what was now the second hardest day of her life. Though today has taken the cake, she remembered the day before a fighting championship back on Rishi. The girl had been training hard and the opponent she had to face was a burly nikto who had killed many others in the ring. Jania figured she would be able to take him but that entire day she could have been training she was instead running from pirate associates of her opponents attempting to kill her and force a surrender. She never could remember a different day where she was running almost everywhere she went and she couldn’t even drink the water because of fear of being poisoned. In the end she lost the battle anyway due to lack of rest and simply a difference in strength. Until today that day had been the hardest of her life but being with these Sith were an whole different animal. In the matter of only a few hours the girl had had her face split, almost bled out, spine popped, pelvis broken, suffocated, nearly devoured, and flung like a rag doll across a Chamber. Surely not everyday as a Sith would be as chaotic would it? If so she honestly didn’t know if she would make it in this line of work. Opening her eyes as she wondered if the voice had approached the group she would see the darkened figure pass her and suddenly she was frozen where she sat. It was like Mistress Death had tracked her through the realms and was now here to claim her once more. But this cold presence felt familiar.. she has been around this person before and of this she was 100% sure. The thought of who he was drifted through her mind briefly until she recalled the words that were just spoken from Apollyon. The person who had in fact just passed her like she was a nameless acolyte was the Emperor himself. The man who had condemned her to this Tomb in hopes of salvaging her potential or getting rid of her was now with them all and it was revealed that this was his Tomb in fact. Getting up as she followed the group to watch him revive the dashade she stayed quiet wondering what his appearance here would mean for them. Did it mean they finished the Tomb and could leave or was he condemning the group and her to be here forever. Though she expected the former she would have not been surprised if the latter happened as well. Leading them back through the Tomb to the entrance she doesn’t remember being brought into, Jania smirked as the rays of light hit her face and she had survived her first trial of the Sith. For now, she would get back to the academy and figure out what normal life meant for an acolyte with no official Master but it wouldn’t be too long until she received her instructions from her true Master and go forth to bring him back to their realm. Taking the first few steps into the sand she continued to look at the back of Dreadwar as her anger was seething as she continued to think about what he did to her earlier. ‘You will never be the one I serve... Ramage is my true Master.’ She would think to herself as she started to move herself to the front of the group. She had something to say and she knew her anger wouldn’t go away until she said it. Walking up until she was the first one behind Dreadwar she coughed in hopes of getting his attention. He would acknowledge her even if she was just a nameless acolyte to him. “Hey!! You sent me here with a disgraced master to die.. you sent me into this Tomb to learn what a Sith was before my death and I actually survived your Tomb.. me!! The lowly acolyte you tossed around like garbage.. don’t walk away without acknowledging me.. have I earned my right to train as a Sith here? Because regardless I will become Sith...” she then turned to look at Viscretus with a smirk. “And I will become better than you.. so give me the chance.” Tag: Darth Dreadwar, Volshe, Padawan4687, Shira, Darth Catalyst, gorzan, dice, trentongordon, Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror |
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Post by darthferos on Jun 2, 2018 13:36:34 GMT -5
IC: Darth Feros Concussion missiles. Stang. He had to do something. Thankfully, he had the Force. He opened himself to it, letting his anger fuel it like a hyperdrive. Reaper was trying to lead the missiles away. But Feros knew if he failed, 3PO and himself would wind up as debris floating high in orbit. He needed to act. And act fast. "3PO, all shields double power to the aft. And get this tub moving. Those missiles don't track well. Start weaving and rolling." Next, he commed Reaper. "Watch yourself. Im about to pour cannon fire at those concussion missiles. Turn into to them, and when I say so, break straight up. We'll deal with that warhead on your tail too." And then he saw a familiar shape cutting into the brawl, pouring laser fire at the kilo, it seemed. All edges and gleaming dull metal. Like an ancient Lanvarok, the old disks the Massassi warriors used. It was Skorn. His ship. Now they were in business. "Corvar. Glad to see you finally made it. When Reaper breaks up, fire in that warhead tracking him. Then we'll deal with that Kilo. Skorn is more than capable." Feros focused back on the missiles. He dumped more anger into himself. For some reason he thought of Lady Maladi. Feros hated the Devaronian female. But if he died he'd never touch her again. That part he did enjoy. More importantly, he'd never kill her. And that was the most important. He had to make her pay. Now his anger was a raging fire in his chest. An inferno burning away all doubt like the forests of Ruusan. He was whole in this state. It was natural. He pulled the triggers at the same time as he called to Reaper, "Break now!" Feros watched the cascades of green energy dance away into the atmosphere on their collision course. Darth Catalyst darthkain7 trentongordon |
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Jun 2, 2018 14:34:40 GMT -5
IC: Darth Dreadwar Valley of the Dark Lords, Korriban
The Lord of Darkness stared at the dying light of Horuset, the aetheric eyes of the Force unflinching under the withering glare of the sun. The ancient spirit saw through the Force, heard through the Force, felt through the Force, perceiving the faint leylines around him like the gossamer strands of a spider's web, vibrating as the insects drew near, weighing lightly upon it. The curious Inquisitor was the first to emerge from the tomb, his jesting with the armoured Lord beside him as uniquely irreverent as it was utterly irrelevant. The Hand followed, keeping a respectful distance to her master, onyx eyes shying from the crimson rays of the setting sun to settle upon the the bloodshine-bathed cloak of the black-robed Dread-King. The Emperor was an opaque silhouette against the dwindling light, a brooding, eternal Shadow that appeared planted in place in the sands of the Valley like the distant statues of the ancient Dark Lords, heralding the night to come. The dead Dashade shambled out next, addressing the Emperor in his guttural tones. In time, as rot claimed the revenant, the Dashade's lungs and vocal chords would decay to the point his voice would become a shuddering rasp, a sepulchral whisper not too dissimilar to the Emperor's own spectral emanations. For now, however, his voice was as strong as his hulking frame, as he asked the Emperor about his newly-assigned mistress. "Master, what now?" the pet grunted in its barbarian tongue. "They can't understand me. How am I to take orders from the woman? She does not speak Dashade, nor do I speak her language. Perhaps you may gift her something to understand as you do?"The pet was as slow as Dreadwar remembered, its wits - and memory - not-so-much dimmed by millennia of confinement as they were none too bright to begin with. If the Emperor recalled, Viscretus was familiar with Dashadi, but the pet had asked for a gift and Dreadwar did not mind throwing the dog a bone; much as Revan had done to the Rakata millennia before, Dreadwar simply reached out with his considerable powers of telepathy, dropping words of Galactic Basic into the undead mind. Unlike Revan, however, Dreadwar did not bother to reprogram the Dashade with a comprehensive understanding of the language, nor did he grant it any more than the ability to speak two words: I obey.The message, delivered silently and invisibly, was loud and clear. Next to trail out was an acolyte. She coughed, Dreadwar assumed on Korriban's dust, before she began whining. She wanted to be acknowledged, apparently. Darth Dreadwar never could care to grant last wishes. The Emperor remained in place, back turned to her, silent as the grave. The acolyte fell over. In the time it took to hit the sands, the carcass had shriveled to a skeleton, her soul wrenched from its mortal vessel and consumed. The skeleton crumbled into dust upon impact. And just so, Jania Kio ceased to exist. Annihilated. "Follow me to the Temple," Dreadwar hissed, stepping forward once again as the rest of the team filed out. He kindly plied pressure to the hidden pits outside, letting the sand and trap-doors fall in, revealing the location of the remaining pits so that the Sith could navigate around them. The last ray of Horuset vanished behind the far canyon wall, and Darth Dreadwar proceeded onwards, silhouetted against a darkening sky of beautiful blood, leading the team towards the mouth of the Valley and the desolate desert of Dreshdae beyond. |
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Jun 2, 2018 14:47:33 GMT -5
OOC: Jania Kio is character-killed via Hunger. @lordjania I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you're going to have to reroll with a new character. 
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gorzan
Citizen
Posts: 93 
Likes: 60
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Post by gorzan on Jun 2, 2018 17:03:20 GMT -5
Ic: Neoplix
Location: exiting the tombs
Neoplix followed, dragging his old armor over his shoulder. He stopped, waiting, as Dreadwar almost casually reduced Jaina to ash. What to do now? He was curious. But, he saw one opportunity he couldn't pass up. As her body hit the ground, he called the two amulets to himself, slipping one inside his cloak, and kneeling, holding out the other to catalyst.
"Master, accept my gift. I would assume you can put this to far better use than she could have possibly hoped."
He glanced down at the two heavy blades on catayst's belt. Both were far to heavy to wield with one hand, and he knew catalyst had only asked for the poison blade as a test. Did he truly even need or want the weapons? Neoplix doubted it. More importantly, Neoplix needed a weapon, and it would prove difficult for anyone, even one such as catalyst, to move swiftly across long distances dragging both of the extremely heavy swords.
He was not so foolish to demand a weapon, but either sword would prove incredibly helpful, and would enable him to better serve his master.
"My master. Darth Catalyst. In the coming battles, I will need a weapon. I don't demand anything of you. But if you show the generosity to return my blade, or grant me the other one, I swear I will demonstrate to you just how effective a tool and apprentice I can be to a master with your cunning and power."
He remained kneeling, head down in respect. However, he noticed Dreadwar clearing the pits, and subtly nodded in approval. They would have proven dangerous to such a large group trying to move with haste.
Up in the sky, the sun beat down, red, upon the ground. Neoplix looked forward to the opportunities that lay ahead, but knew above all, caution would be necessary. Caution, to temper the ambition.
Tags: tomb tags
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Post by Lord Vassago on Jun 2, 2018 19:47:26 GMT -5
IC: Darth VassagoAboard The Triumphant , hyperspace, en route to the Nihil RetreatThe medbay was electric with emotion. Storms churned within Shira and the lady Empress, even the Doctor. All of which sparked by the words of the Dark Lord. None present were keen on the suggestion, though it was simply that. Grim as his words were, Vassago maintained he was not wrong. A man with his knowledge wouldn’t carelessly vomit out falsehood for the sake of it; his assessment of the situation was realistic, and the Togruta would likely die. The others refused to see it, blinded by their own compassion; much the same as Sabba, those present could have learned from the lesson that was taught. Compassion in their eyes, given their situation, was to help her without question, frantically extending her life by whatever means, and therefore prolonging her suffering. True compassion was to end her suffering before she became a blight. Rather than learn, they chose to forget about death, and lean on the crutch of their reasoning that all things can be made right with proper care. He laced his aged hands behind his aching back, his hooded head hung low, and slowly walked through the corridors of the vessel. He was wandering. Though he had every intention to end up back at the living quarters that Shira had provided, he preferred walking with his thoughts to pacing a small room. Four walls and artificial light did nothing for his mind. Even in the corridors, the whirring and sequential noises from the panels about were a nuisance. He’d had grown accustomed to walking the forested areas of Terminus while deep in thought. He had grown even more accustomed to day-long walks through the jungles of Makatak, listening to the air whispering through the leaves, the native avian creatures chirping and singing with one another; a beautiful symphony of natural life even he could appreciate. A part of him yearned for a return to such solitude. The cold mechanical body of a starship lacked the soothing tranquility that the natural world provided. Even on Korriban, the dead planet full of red sand and blathering spirits, he found solitude in the gardens within the temple. Much like his personal library, he restricted access to it, so as not to be disturbed by meandering Acolytes or Masters. He found solace walking freely among the greenery - exotic flora, including the exceedingly rare Malreaux rose, hand-picked from around the Galaxy – and in the murmuring water that slowly, over some millennia, wore away at the river rock that the water shared the canal with. Slowly, without the knowledge of the rock, the water would consume it. A smile pulled at the corners of his lips from beneath his ashen whiskers. The thought of the lesson a simple river rock could teach those within the medbay was cause enough for him to desire a return to such stillness. So much to learn from all facets. The rushing water was simply the disease within the Togruta, while she, and her body, played the role of the stone. A relationship that seemed symbiotic, helpful in some sense, would eventually come to end the lesser. It may not happen that day on the ship, no. The insistence of the doctor and ladies would ensure her life, and therefore her suffering, would be prolonged. Some trace, no matter how miniscule, would remain. And it would be that trace, that survivor, that would become driven, aggressively, to overtake the host. As such, she would crumble…a slow infection, from the inside out. Yet, the infection would go unnoticed, like a stowaway, under the radar as the main symptoms would fade. All would seem well. Yet underneath it all, she would be worn away, until her system was unable to contend, and no measure of help could be offered to save her soul. Like the might of the stone succumbing to the humble audacity of the flowing water. Compassion, he thought to himself. The smile melted away. He would not interfere, as the Togruta’s fate meant nothing to him. Nor did the fate of those on board. The only life on board the vessel that had any significance to him was that of his Apprentice, Sabba. She remained in anguish, aching at the thought of a life being taken to ‘save’ it, as it were. She couldn’t quite grapple with the idea, nor did he expect her to in the moment. A lesson to be learned in time, he mused. Still, he felt some desire to speak with her, to find what she had learned, if indeed it was anything at all. Still, there was more. Vassago could tell something beyond the fate of the Togruta was troubling her, perhaps something more…personal. He reached out, the tendrils of the Force pushing from his mind and into hers, closing the distance between them instantly. He could see her pain, vividly, painted before him like colors on a canvas. Her family, her brother, Antaneesia, yes, he thought to himself. He saw each one, though he could not hear the words of the Witch. He paused for a moment, seeing the cause of such turmoil within her went far beyond simple compassion for a life. The outburst in the medbay was, perhaps, just amplified by the grief she was already experiencing due to her…encounter. He withdrew his presence from her mind, leaving her to herself in the medbay. The Dark Lord stopped mid-step and contemplated what his next course of action would be. Sabba would likely seek him out in due time, no doubt to speak of his lesson in the medbay, but also to discuss the vision that was weighing heavily upon her. He elected to wait, though, to continue thinking in what little quiet he could find within the starship. He would not wait long. If Sabba was otherwise occupied, or perhaps held up for some reason or another within the medbay, he would return to her there to remove her from the turmoil and stress personally. After all, he had left his walking staff against the wall… TAG: No one, really. But, maybe the Medbay people. Shira, Darth Dreadwar, Volshe, Padawan4687
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Post by patrickx31 on Jun 2, 2018 20:37:24 GMT -5
IC: Gis'pefuRestricted Section, Library, Jedi Praxeum, Yavin IV"Come along, Padawan," he said, turning and opening the doors invitingly. "My own Padawan could do with a research assistant."
When the young twi'lik heard the jedi master say that instead of punishing her, Gis'pefu's eyes would almost gleam before nodding and following along. A research assistant was far better than being stuck on janitorial duties for a while...at best. As master Shado Vao was explaining the reason for being in this restricted area, she would notice the other padawan reading through a scroll on the subject. She thought about creeping over and getting a peek at the scroll, but she was the assistant. Meaning she was to make the research process faster and more efficient. "I'll help in anyone I can master." Cracking her fingers, she would walk towards this arrangement of dark knowledge. Skimming through any book that had nothing to do with sithspawns, terentatek, or any hidden knowledge about Yavin IV itself. "I thought those things were taken care of during the jedi hunts. Why are they popping up again? And why now, around the jedi temple? So many questions that need answers." She mumbled to herself as she continued her search. Darth Dreadwar, darthramage
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darthramage
Citizen
*currently entombed*
Posts: 33
Likes: 39
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Post by darthramage on Jun 2, 2018 21:27:33 GMT -5
IC: Darth Ramage Beyond Shadows
Ramage complied. His perception broke through the veil of shadows, this time easier than before. The Sith suddenly felt dread, he could not feel the presence of his "apprentice" Jania Kio. Ramage now had nobody in the corporeal realm that had the knowledge or will to free him.
The Siniteen poured his anger into the tear that gave him vision and he watched as the girl faded from existence, adding to the infinite sand that made up the dunes of Korriban. A group of Sith stood near the scene, all flanking a void whose presence was vivid even in the realm of shadow.
"I see a wound in the force, the girl I encountered here is dead." Recognition came to Ramage, had he not acted previously at the woman's command destroying the ion cannon, he might have no chance at freedom. The Sith changed his focus to a damaged freighter, the same from before. He could see a small party safely exiting the downed craft "They survived," Ramage said. Few locations on Korriban were easily recognizable, but this was one. The group was in the same location Ramage had landed his own light freighter, the Brawler, centuries ago. They were not far from the ancient Sept he used to conduct dark side rituals during the Banite era.
"Abeloth," Speaking the name aloud still felt unsettling. "There was a wound.. it was somehow familiar. What is going on down there?" In spite of his efforts, the Sept was still unseen to him. "Teach me to fully harness this realm, show me how to bend the shadows so that I may enforce your will. I sense my time here is coming to an end, and I am learning that I am no longer the most powerful being in the Galaxy." The visions faded and he turned to his new mistress, waiting for an answer.
IC: Jarich Skywalker Jedi Praxeum, Library restricted section.
Jarich could hear his master inviting the Twi'Lek he called Gis into the restricted section to join him. "Lucky you," he whispered to himself, quietly finishing with the scroll. "This one implies that Terentateks may not be bred, or natural at all. Is it true that the Sith can create Battle Hydras from Birds?! If the Sith are summoning these creatures then it may be some kind of probe against our defences, what do you think master?" Jarich's mind was racing with theories, both plausible and outlandish. "What if Dreadwar is.." He paused, DreadWar, Dread War. His eyes darted through the dusty scroll once again before he found the relevant passage, it read. "...which prophesies that a God named variously as Typhojem, Pomojema or Darr tah El'Nemes'tsis will rise again during an age of dread and war, and consume all the galaxy?"
Jarich was confused, it had to be a coincidence, how could a Sith scholar from millennia ago know to reference the name of the current Sith Emperor? "Master, who is this Pomojema? Most of the Sith I've heard of have more obnoxious titles, like Darth Doombreath. Could he have anything to do with this?" Without waiting for a reply, Jarich looked through the rest of the tomes and scrolls once again, this time selecting Ye Genus of Terentatek That Plagueth the Pits of Darke Worlds, by Serak Taligi Seyron Ma. He stood waiting for a reply with the musty old tome held informally in one arm.
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dice
Citizen
Posts: 84
Likes: 65
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Post by dice on Jun 2, 2018 22:13:10 GMT -5
IC: Darth XirrEmerging From the Tomb of Ku'ar Danar, Valley of the Dark Lords, Korriban Crack! Thunder rang out in the cavernous room as the apparition above the Sarcophagus materialized further, and Xirr was flung to one knee, a sign of respect The Armored Lord had previously almost been killed for failing to show, to have gotten so lucky twice, Xirr assumed, was a rare thing indeed. Once Darth Dreadwar began to speak, the ghostly whisper of his voice echoing endlessly into the depths of the gaping crevasse beneath them, Xirr found himself in awe at the depth of the Emperor's influence on what they all knew, and at his involvement in events taken place millennia past. "This tomb was built for me," The ghostly man began, "But I never made use of this tomb, for I never died. I shed my physical form as you might shed clothes, discarding the burdens of the flesh to exist as pure spirit. And after that fateful ritual, other Sith Lords made use of the tomb of Ku'ar Danar - the name I was born to. Tulak Hord had intended to be buried here, but he could never breach the furthest catacombs, and so he built his own mausoleum in the Valley. Naga Sadow had intended to be buried here, but he was exiled to the distant moon of Yavin, and so was laid to rest in a small jungle crypt." The Emperor walked as he spoke, he strode with a confident gait, Xirr could tell without even the ability to see the man's legs or feet through the tattered shroud that encased the entirety of his abyssal being. He stood in the portal that lead into the sarcophagus chamber prior, as he continued his speech, answering many questions that had been gnawing at the heels of many an academic for decades, and yet leaving the group with more. "If that is all, then follow" With that, The Emperor turned, and strode from the sarcophagus chamber with confidence, leading the sith back through the perilous journey that they had taken to reach the chamber in a matter of minutes. Finally, with a few more words, the massive barrier that had previously trapped the party in the Tomb swung open before them, revealing once more the crimson rays of a beautiful Korriban evening that shone over the canyon wall that lay some distance away from them. Xirr stepped out into the sun aside Lord Catalyst; someone whom The Armored Lord had grown to like much more than he had originally assumed he would, and as the Korriban sun once more shone upon the armor Xirr had procured from the desolate crypt in which they were now leaving behind, he felt accomplished, though he hadn't furthered his own mission any further than he had when he arrived in the valley, the experience of the adventure with the group and the camaraderie that they had each built with one another was reward enough, especially alongside the artifacts that they had pilfered from the Tomb. Almost immediately, Lord Catalyst took back to himself and Xirr's impromptu battle of wits, a battle that had previously been on hiatus in lieu of more pressing matters at hand.
“Bet you’re wishing Lady Talon hadn’t taken off with the speeder bikes right about now, Oh, don’t forget, you still need to grab my Tuk’ata puppet. I’d carry it myself but after carrying half of this party through the tombs, I’m rather tired.” Xirr looked to Catalyst with an audible chuckle, a sly grin cracked his lips. "Oh quite the contrary, Lord Catalyst. I find your hot headed-ness just the perfect counter to the biting cold of a Korriban night, as long as I keep within a good distance of yourself this will be quite the pleasurable journey home. As for the Tuk'ata," Xirr flexed his bicep in front of Lord Catalyst "I do believe I'll manage... You must be terribly exhausted after all, a princess needs her rest."
TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Darth Catalyst, Padawan4687, Volshe, Shira,
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Post by Lord Vassago on Jun 3, 2018 3:19:42 GMT -5
IC: SabbaMaktak, years prior“ I thought you hated frogs.” “ I do, but I—” Sabba suddenly stiffened, her emerald eyes went wide as she stared ahead of her. She knelt beside her friend, Merune, and nodded her head forward. Rain fell on the throngs making their way toward the altar as if the sky was weeping. The cool rain soaked her, streaking down her pale skin, coalescing into full droplets at the tip of her nose, hanging for a moment before dropping over and over. She didn’t mind the rain, but Merune seemed to. He was bundling up, pulling a hide he’d been wearing around his shoulders up over his head to shield himself from the rain. She ignored him, focusing instead on the villagers congregating at the altar that rested just outside of the village, up a small hill. Someone within the village had summoned Voktys. The man known to the villagers only as Voktys was not called upon lightly. He was revered, honored and respected, his great and terrible power feared and coveted. Those that were in dire need sought him for healing, though he did not always grant a healing hand. Others sought him for personal gain, for favor, but few received it, other still perished for squandering an audience with him. Sabba brushed the rain from her brow with her forearm, nudging Merune. “ There he is,” she said excitedly as a cloaked man appeared from the obscurity of the rain. “ I told you he was real.” She smirked at her friend. The boy only shook his head. “ Shhhh, he might hear you,” Merune warned, pushing his hand over Sabba’s mouth. “ Don’t be dumb,” Sabba said, pulling his hand away. They were far enough back that she was confident he couldn’t hear anything, nor would he care what they were saying. They were back, off to the side, sitting atop the massive root of a tree for a better vantage point. “ What’re they saying?” She asked, pressing her hands into the root and leaning forward. “ I can barely see anything through this rain, let alone hear.” Merune was not enjoying himself. He thought Voktys was a fraud, a fake, as his parents had raised him to, and thought Sabba’s fascination with the man was asinine. He was all that was left of her friends, though. Each of her former friends had found her near-obsession with Voktys dangerous, and her outings into the ruins of the jungles led only to trouble. Rather than get caught up in her potentially dangerous ideas, searching for a reason to visit Voktys at his home, her friends left her. Merune remained. A part of him felt responsible for Sabba, wanting to look out for her, keep her safe from her own misadventures. The other part of him had a crush on her, and he’d do nearly anything to have her notice him in that way. “ Do you think Th’rin will get Voktys' favor,” Sabba asked turning to her friend, her soaked hair swinging over her shoulders, and into her face. She pulled a few strands out of her eyes, waiting for Merune to reply. “ Or his judgement!” She yelled loudly, growling the word ‘judgement’, and jumped with her hands clawed at Merune, scaring him. The boy jumped at Sabba’s prank, causing him to lose his balance on the root and fall to the muddy ground with a splash. The young woman covered her mouth laughing. Merune only whined up at her, telling her it wasn’t funny. CRACKA pillar of lightning pierced through the clouds, striking the man kneeling before the cloaked figure. In an instant, the kneeling man, Th’rin, was reduced to a smoldering pile of ash, washed away almost instantly by the pouring rain. The mass of gathered villagers gasped at once, then fell to their knees in unison. They began humming and chanting, recanting the words of Th’rin, distancing themselves from what it was that displeased Voktys. Sabba’s face went white, her eyes nearly as pale as her skin. Merune reached up for her, grabbing at her tunic to pull her down, out of sight, but she remained. He called to her, begging her to come down and kneel with the others, but she couldn’t move. Such power, she thought, to take a life in an instant. She swallowed hard, her hand absentmindedly covering her mouth in horror. The cloaked man turned to those gathered, kicking aside what ash remained of the deceased. “ Uovssh thyzz... qwaz...” his voice boomed, like thunder coming from the heavens. He spoke in a tongue native to even those on Maktak. To have waited so long, for this? He asked the masses, speaking of the false relic, the false scroll that Th’rin had brought before him, seeking his favor. “ Al'ksh syq iir awan? Lilth sythn aqev…” he spoke again, asking simply if what they witnessed was real or an illusion. “ You’re going mad,” he murmured, perhaps speaking to himself, as the words were not loud enough to reach those gathered. A storm raged above, and with a deafening roll of thunder, the man vanished. Sabba’s heart was racing, her mind thrown into a haze. She couldn’t believe what she’d just witnessed. Deep down, she ached for that power, to be something more than an outcast among her peers; she desired a true meaning, one that would lead her and her family to a greater standing. Within herself, she swore if she had a power like his, she’d help those in need without hesitation, nurturing even the most hopeless souls. And when she lay awake at night as she often did, unable to sleep, she would wonder what terrible price she’d have to pay for such power. “ Sabba, please!” Merune begged, reaching up for her. Finally, she broke from her reverie and climbed down, meeting the worried eyes of her friend. “ Why didn’t you come down? What if he saw you?” Merune asked frantically, his hands reaching to her shoulders in his concern, half-angry with the stubborn girl for remaining in sight for as long as she did. “ I hope he did,” she said plainly to Merune, pushing his hands off her shoulders. “ I have to meet him.” Her words were decisive. Determined to find a reason to speak to and to meet Voktys, and determined to satisfy that ache she felt. That ache for the power he held within his hand. Merune’s face dropped at her words and he shook his head. He knew he was powerless to convince her otherwise, to sway her from her quest. Rather than try, he’d simply follow his friend to the very end… Back aboard The Triumphant, en route to the Nihil Retreat, Sabba found herself on the ground, reeling after a heart wrenching lesson from her Master…Voktys. Still sobbing, she thought back to one of the first times she saw his raw power, and the ache she'd felt within her to wield such power. She never thought her quest for that power would bring an end to her people, that it would lead her to the stars, traveling through Hyperspace, to new and exotic planets. She thought back to the many nights she lay awake in her village on Makatak, the nights she lay awake on Terminus, and the terrible price she once considered for such power. Yet, somehow, she never considered the price would be so high. A beautiful woman, the same woman her Master her had regarded as the Empress, knelt beside her, offering her words to comfort her. Sabba’s glassy eyes turned toward Shira as her hand brushed against her shoulder, a small feeling of comfort washing over her. She hadn’t expected the two to approach her, nor did she know how to react. Before she could speak to Shira, the two women shared an alarmed glance with one another, and Shira bolted after a fleeing man. He was unfamiliar to her, but Shira’s sudden departure jarred her slightly. She bit somberly at her lip, her eyes finding those of the Empress once more. She sighed quietly and turned, finding something to grab on to that would help her feet; she may not have been all too familiar with customs when in the presence of an Empress, but she knew well enough that it was rude to latch on to someone and use them as leverage to get to one’s feet. Instead, she pulled herself up using the rails of the bed she was beside. She got to her feet, though her legs still felt a bit like jelly. She could hardly think, her mind hazy after everything, but she would be a fool to leave this woman, the Empress of all people, without a single word. After all, the Empress’ words did resonate with her, even if she wasn’t sure that she agreed her Master was speaking from a place of fear. She hadn’t the mind or the words to refute the Empress, so she wouldn’t dare. “ T-thank you for your guidance, E-empress. I…I will meditate on your words.” Her voice cracked and wobbled, almost as shaky as her stature. She sniffled, wiping a stray tear or two from her eyes, and bowed deeply out of respect for the woman. Sabba did appreciate her words, an alternate way of seeing the Galaxy, perhaps. The idea wasn’t foreign, her Master had spoken of such ideas, harnessing emotion and the like, but she hadn’t put it to practice. Truly, she owed her Master much, if not everything. Without him, she’d be dead with her tribe and family on Makatak. Without him, she would be lost in a blinding blizzard of endless cold and confusion. His lessons, though harsh, helped her grow…even if she struggled to see how at the time. She rationalized the events in her mind, though she truly felt that Voktys, Darth Vassago, her Master, was the utmost and the highest. While she saw the Empress for the royalty that she was, she saw her Master as nothing less than a god, a deity, that took her under his wing. For that, she was eternally grateful. For that reason, among others, she pledged her unending loyalty to him. After bowing to the Empress, the young woman began to make her way away out of the medical bay. She found herself alone for the first time since the elevator shafts, something she was not entirely comfortable with. Her vision with the Witch had left her on edge, as did the last ‘lesson’ from her Master. Even still, she’d rather be at his side than wandering the cold starship by herself. She saw Shira dart away, but not which way she went. She figured it was best not to follow Shira. Rather, she would seek out her Master. Before leaving the medical bay she noticed something out of the corner of her eye; resting against the wall was his walking staff, a prized possession and something the Dark Lord would likely not want left sitting. She wiped her eyes once more, getting the last of the tears off her porcelain-like skin, and turned back to see Alisha still asleep on the bed. She smiled softly, silently hoping all would be well with her; she seemed very important to Shira and the Empress, after all. She reached out with the Force, as her Master often did, and called the staff to her hand. A smile sprouted at the corners of her lips when she felt her fingers wrap around the ancient trunk of wood; the old wood reminded her of her home, of that root that she and Merune sat upon when she watched Voktys so many years ago. Her smile melted away as soon as she realized the cold metal of the starship was all around her, rather than the living trees of her home planet. She sighed softly and began to slowly walk out of the medical bay… TAG: Darth Dreadwar , Shira , Padawan4687 , Volshe
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Post by Deleted on Jun 3, 2018 5:50:27 GMT -5
IC: Darth InsipidBattle of ZiostThe plan seemed to be winding out as he had foreseen, which of course made Insipid more suspicious. He absently regretted allowing his emotions to get the better of him in dealing with Anathema. She was not a foul Sith; just irritating. He saw no need for her to be here, but equally she saw no need to be here. His lip twitched. Even Dark Lords were tools of ones Emperor. But not forever, he reflected. Dreadwar respected Insipid, but was not immune to being subtle with the whip. Insipid was not annoyed so much as frustrated with not being trusted. His record spoke for itself. Anathema needed to be humoured, not scorned. Perhaps it was purely how certain Helinith was in his tactics, that Anathema grated so. A disappointing moment for Insipid on reflection. Unless... his instincts were trying to push something along. Insipid cast out into the Force as the Gorog made its moves like chronowork. Something askance on Korriban, perhaps, and of course the penumbral anticipation building in the very Heartshadow itself... but his gaze wandered too far - he needed to remember that Haretisch was a brilliant foe, and his instincts grew louder, all but kicking him to narrow his attention - He detected it the moment that his heralds spoke up. ‘Sithspit,’ he whispered. One of his men twitched as if he had heard Insipid’s surprise, and Insipid reached out and snapped his neck swiftly. He planned on losing; but it would not do for his man to know his surprise. The others would look up sharply, and Insipid simply arched an eyebrow at the rest of them. ‘Let’s not shout out information across the area, shall we?’ Reshaping his act as a lesson on the joint Sith around him was child’s play. He glowered at them nonetheless. ‘I know about the army to the North. But I do not need it shouted across. Information is on a need-to-know basis in my army. If you do not trust me, I cannot trust in you do demonstrate your skills in full, to act for the greatness of our Empire.’ ‘Now, regale me with the details of this new deployment. Calmly. Slowly.’ Insipid eyed the few officers he had to hand. He would simply have to get his hands dirty. The chokepoint here did not need his direct input, when the enemy penetrated this deep. The Gorog would be crushed with or without his direct order after all; the point in which part of the Citadel would be dropped was shown on the orders. Helinith and Anathema could manage a staggered withdrawal to this point before the ambush was primed, timed with the presumed Gorog death. Trust, after all. ‘Have the sorcerers who initially lured the Gorog forward prepare to redeploy. Hiding from Haretisch’s ranged weapons will not help them when the matter turns to close-combat, after all.’ Insipid knew that would not be enough, but he needed to carry the gambit through. He touched the mind of Helinith and reinforced the need for caution. A third army would prove problematic, but if it came to that, he would withdraw all of his forces into the Citadel and simply fight room-to-room, while dispatching assassination and sabotage teams to winnow away at Haretisch’s officers and heavy weapons. Helinith would earn her keep today. Insipid allowed himself a smile. Darth Dreadwar, @daughterofvader
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Post by kurtishenschel on Jun 3, 2018 18:21:21 GMT -5
IC: Karina The Desert of Lost Souls, Korriban Looking over the vast desert again Karina frowned slightly as a shiver went down her spine. She rarely was effected by places like this but for some reason the place broke through her defenses and had her feeling cold and alone. It was as if she fell into a black hole and could still see the galaxy around her but just couldn't reach it. The feeling disturbed Karina since the only planet that got negative feelings from her was her home planet due to what happened there. Returning her focus to what was being said she rolled her eyes and pointed to the ship "we have the speeders for that, assuming they aren't badly damaged we can get up there with ease. As for an excuse we can just say we've got business with the man and if they push the matter we kill them. It's not like we didn't just cripple their ships main gun so regardless we aren't at the top of their favorite people list. So let's just get this out of the way so I can get out of this damned desert before the sand gets in my legs I already cleaned them once today and hate to do it again." Tags: Darth Dreadwar Darth Voidwalker |
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Shira
Administrator 
.: Empress' Hand
Posts: 135 
Likes: 114
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Post by Shira on Jun 3, 2018 19:05:21 GMT -5
IC: Shira A’dolaThe Triumphant, hyperspace, on route to the Nihil Retreat
Pray to Me.So startled was Shira by the voice, unbidden to her mind, that she stumbled and fell, rolling a few feet from the momentum of her sprint. A soft groan rolled past her lips as she caught her breath and she stayed crouched for a moment, listening. Had she truly heard the voice of a god? Or had she been hoping so deeply for an answer to her prayers that her mind had created one for her? She listened for a moment more and, hearing nothing, stood back up carefully. Eyes traced the corridors, searching for an explanation to this phenomenon, but she saw nothing. Yet, whether truly the voice of a god or her own mind replaying the words, she heard it again, the command reverberating in her mind. Pray to Me. A sharp intake of breath could be heard in the empty corridor as she flinched; she hated people in her mind, especially those she did not know. Desperate times called for desperate measures, however, and she began to sprint after Saerli again, praying quietly in her mind. My apprentice is ill. Though she refused to say the words, the term ‘terminally ill’ was more than implied. We have talented healers and doctors working on her case but no one has ever seen such a sickness before. We don’t know how to fight it, let alone cure her. Please ... help her.TAG: Volshe, Darth Dreadwar,
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Shira
Administrator
.: Empress' Hand
Posts: 135
Likes: 114
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Post by Shira on Jun 3, 2018 19:32:27 GMT -5
IC: The Twins
Valley of the Dark Lords, Korriban
Kevala was too preoccupied with stabilising her sister to notice much. Her body processed the sunlight on her face, warming the chilled air from the Tomb. She noticed a faint breeze in place of the ravenous sandstorm they had entered in.
She noticed when Jania disappeared in wisps of ash.
A shudder wracked her body and she made sure to turn Scionica, ensuring she would not see. The flame-haired woman needed a medical bay as soon as possible to repair her fractured mind. All Kevala could do until then was keep her safe and stable. Dreadwar seemed to be the only way to such safe quarters so they followed the billowing, voided cloak, staying as close to the back as was possible without losing sight of the Emperor.
TAG: trentongordon, Darth Dreadwar, gorzan, dice, Volshe, Padawan4687
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Post by Darth Voidwalker on Jun 3, 2018 20:36:53 GMT -5
IC: Voidwalker The Desert of Lost Souls, Korriban Looking towards the area that the Captain had been talking about, he over heard the conversation between him and Karina. Turning his attention to the two, he offered his advice on the situation. “Yes Karina that’s an excellent idea. Let’s use the speeder bikes and get moving. We don’t know how much longer we’ll have light. The last thing we want to do is to get turned around somehow. We..” As Voidwalker was getting ready to speak another word, he instantly froze and his face turned to a blank zombified stare. All he could do was stare out at the desert, he was as still as a statue. His skin seemed a shade more pale and everything about him seemed less vibrant. It was as if the very essence of Voidwalker had been pulled away from him somehow. After a moment Voidwalker finally seemed to regain his voice and was able to speak again. “Karina, did you feel that? That Force signature, it just vanished. Gone. There’s something else there, cold.” The look on Voidwalker’s face turned from his usual stone face to a look of grim and terror. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s cold and the Force doesn’t live there. What is this thing? It’s as if it’s a void or a hole in reality, a never ending hunger that’s being deprived of the Force.” As he listened to the words coming out of his mouth, he knew he had to get a grip on himself. He was better than this. He made a vow to be Sith and that what he planned to do. Still he had to be honest with himself and Karina would be able to see any bluff he tried. “I don’t know what that feeling was, but it was horrible. It was as if a tiny voice had screamed out in terror and was instantly silenced. Never to be heard from again.” TAG: Darth Dreadwar kurtishenschel |
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Post by Darth Voidwalker on Jun 3, 2018 21:26:40 GMT -5
IC: Nox Talus The Triumphant, hyperspace The female guard made her way over to Nox, still gripping the hilt of her lightsaber that was still extinguished thankfully. Obviously they had been instructed that Nox was dangerous and to be watched closely. She offered him a hand and got Nox up on his feet. "Simmins, open the door, and comm ahead to the medbay. We're taking him there." She told her counterpart. How am I going to get away from these guards and get uncuffed? Come on tell me! Damnit, where are you? You bastard! Looks like I’m on my own here. As Nox and the guard stood in front of the door to the cell as Simmins unlocked it, he knew that he was in no condition to take on two Imperial Knights. He was in no physical condition to do so. Yet he knew that he would have to deal with them both in the hallway so he could handle them without fear of the other calling for back up. Gathering as much Force Energy as he could, He delved deep into the mind of the Imperial Knight That had agreed to take him to the medbay. With a few well placed subtleties and probing, she would be under the control of Nox. As Simmins opened the door of Nox’ cell, he was greeted with the tip of his partners imperial lightsaber to pierce his chest. “Well that was unseen” Nox jokingly said as he stepped out into the hall. “Now remove these cuffs and get me to that medbay!” TAG: Darth Dreadwar |
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Padawan4687
Imperial Intelligence
.: Empress' Sword / Director of Intelligence
Posts: 133
Likes: 112
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Post by Padawan4687 on Jun 3, 2018 21:32:26 GMT -5
IC: Xal’den Desani
Location: Triumphant medbay Leave for all of an hour and all hell breaks loose! After a short meeting with the remnants of his squadron of Imperial Knights, their Captain was made to retire to get his bandages changed. Xal'den didn't expect to be cleared again for active duty for at least a few days at this rate... even moreso with the deaths on his mind. He wanted nothing more than to pass out in bed, but the Force seemed to have other plans for him. His link with Alisha... something was wrong with it. It was a bridge between their minds, so of course it'd be ever-changing. But for the years he'd known her, she rarely recoiled like that. Just from talking, too? So now he was on his way from one Medbay to another to hopefully ease his mind. He couldn't hurry the way he wanted, breathing too heavily was enough to upset the wound, and the ever-present ache spread to his legs. He was nearly there when his stomach started to violently turn, forcing Xal'den to lean against a wall. "What the hell, what now?!" It took him a moment to recognize that this wasn't his pain, but it was growing worse by the second. Closing off his end of the Link with Alisha was about the only way he could continue moving forward! He ran the rest of the way, sensing a whole crowd of other people alongside hers in a single cramped room. Alisha's light went dim just as Xal'den reached the entrance, and his heart near stopped. Lady A'dola was at the bedside, too laser focused to even look up... so she must've encouraged her to sleep. The man beside her probably read Xal'den's expression, but the fear was quickly changed to wariness. She'd be 'well cared for'? He didn't even know what was wrong with her! All he could do was nod breathlessly, and maybe try to get a closer look... Kriff, this room was crowded! He could hardly see everyone's faces, though he noticed the bottom of a gown that looked far too elaborate to be worn in this place...?! His, Empress? He alternated between looking down at the bed, and back to what he swore had to be a changeling. Their whole reason for fleeing into space, alive and physically present, whispering with her Hand? Xal'den had to sit down. He probably would have remained there with his head lowered for much longer if not for a new voice condemning Alisha to death. Who do you think you are?! Xal'den's fists were nearly shaking at the thought alone, especially after this hellish day. Though he took some comfort knowing her doctor felt the same way with the furious glare he was leveling as the man in question walked out. "Thanks a lot, really appreciating the vote of confidence, he growled under his breath as the room finally began to clear after. "Excuse me," He approached Doctor Lak quietly, staying about as upright as he could with a bandaged side. "... may I stay? At least, until A- Lady Tano wakes up?" TAG: Darth Dreadwar , Shira , @volshe
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Post by Deleritas on Jun 3, 2018 21:36:04 GMT -5
Roger. I’ll just go fuck myself then. Who does this guy think he is anyway? He WAS a master and WAS a genius at one point, sure, and his knowledge of the Force WAS clearly unparalleled, but he is dead. Not because he died of old age, rather he wasn’t CLEVER enough to see the trap that the Emperor had set for him within his own creation. He was too ARROGANT to see what the future had in store for him. He wasn’t able to save himself from the masterpiece that HE had created…unbelievable. This led to his mind breaking under the circumstances and his eventual death in this very Citadel. My humble upbringing may prevent me from understanding much of the intricacies and innerworkings of these pumps and computers, but I’ll be damned if I let this mere specter get the best of me.
I remained silent and turned my attention back to the conversation that the phantom was having with Solus. “I suppose, telekinetic operation would be theoretically possible, but only as a temporary solution. The system was not designed to function without water within its pipes. He who wished to power the Citadel would have to stay here in order to keep the pump functioning.”
I didn’t quite understand what would make telekinesis a solution in the first place. After all, if liquid is a requirement to make everything work and telekinesis is the movement of present objects using the mind, where would the liquid come from? It’s not like it could be generated by the mind…or can it? “I highly doubt you wish to stay trapped down here while your apprentice flees this place, Lord Solus.” Nostrem said, his words piercing my soul. I’m not running from anything. I will not allow for my master to die here, much less alone.
Thankfully I had enough self-control to not let any of my thoughts turn into angry tirade. However, I did express my displeasure in the form of a scoff at Nostrem’s remarks. I, absentmindedly, extended my hand towards the valve and considered playing with it. I quickly pulled my hand back away from the scalding hot metal. “For what it is worth my apprentice is loyal. He wouldn’t leave me behind.” Solus said proudly, attempting to usher away Nostrem’s remarks. A smile danced at the corners of my lips at Solus’ acknowledgement of my steadfast loyalty. Rather than continue to pay attention to their conversation, I buried myself within the depths of my mind and roamed the halls within to try and bring up a solution to our problem. What if this is just more games? I asked myself. Earlier he did try to get into my head by taunting me and playing with something that was equally a strength and weakness of mine. The voices. More often than not, they were a plague of doubt upon my mind that clouded my ability to think clearly. Solus was helping me control them and use them to my advantage, but I had much to learn. For some reason, they were silent right now. I figured with the remark that Nostrem had made, they would surge in intensity, but they remained at bay. As if they were a pack of wolves stalking their prey and waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
Darth Catalyst, Darth Solus
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Post by darthvoxyn on Jun 4, 2018 0:14:17 GMT -5
IC: Darth Voxyn Location: Gozanti-cruiser, Oricon "Our destination is upon us. Arancia would have you meet him at the boarding ramp." came over the ships speakers. Quickly throwing on his leather jacket over his chain mail shirt Voxyn stood up to gather his things. "The speaking in the third person is going to get old really fast I can tell already" Voxyn said as he put on his goggles to aid him in seeing in dark and dim lighting and then reaching out with the force to pull his energy bow to his hand and his lightsaber to the other as he walked out the door with Artemis at his heel seeming a bit agitated. Arriving at the boarding ramp just as it opened Voxyn instantly got hit by hot foul smelling air. Upon hearing the prisoner refer to Arancia as a Jedi after Arancia asked if we could sense the Phobis Device made him chuckle to himself, the poor fool was a prisoner and didn't even know who his captors were. Reaching out with the force to sense what Arancia was sensing showed him nothing though it certainly didn't help that he didn't really know what he was meant to me sensing. "I sense nothing my lord but something has my vornskr bothered" Voxyn said as he walked by the prisoner toward Arancia taking in the lava filled scenery. Tag: Darth Catalyst DarthVizuul taciteoccultus |
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Post by Deleted on Jun 4, 2018 0:44:27 GMT -5
(Dreadwar Approved) Name/Title: Nannley Age: 17 Sex: Female Species: Cathar Homeworld: Cathar Height: 5’3 Weight: 130lbs Occupation/Sphere Specialty: Sith Acolyte Appearance: Pic Weapons: Single Bladed Lightsaber with a Purple Crystal. Ceremonial dagger she’s had since she was little. Equipment: Red and Black Combat Robes with a breastplate of armor Description of Abilities: LVL: Level 1 Warrior Skills: (LVL1 picks 8 skills including saber forms, force abilities etc.) - Force Push/Pull: 1 - Force Choke - Force Jump: 1 - Force Lightning - Force Defense - Mind Trick: 1 - Form I: 1 - Form II: 1 - Form III: - Form IV: 1 - Form V: 1 - Form VI: - (Warrior Tree Only) Form VII: 1 - Force Storm: Personality/Bio: Born on the planet Cathar to a warrior tribe who dwelled in some of the tallest and sturdiest trees in the savannah, Nannley grew up as the Elder’s daughter and the pride of her Clan. In absence of not having a brother she was often expected to handle the jobs a male should handle and in her early life she had no problem doing such. Learning to hunt Kiltik as almost all of the warriors did she killed her first one as part of a group when she was 7 and by the time she was 13 she had finally managed to kill one by herself using a combination of weapons and traps set ahead of time. As she excelled as a warrior for her Clan she began gaining a few fans her biggest one being her little sister Tira. Tira though only 2 years younger than Nannley was never trained and never suited to be a warrior and instead was gatherer of the few berries and nuts that grew in the savannah. Specializing in night time combat and prided with her hunting skills in the dark, Nannley became known to her clan and a few others as the Moonlit Demon. A few weeks before her 14th birthday, Nannley accompanied her sister out into the savannah at night as Tira was going to find some extra berries that she could keep just to herself for snacks. Going too far from their clans dwellings they would happen upon a ship that was landed on the surface and figure they go through it to see if they could find anything of use to them or the clan. Sneaking aboard the ship they found it empty and figured the crew wouldn’t be back for awhile so they had time to rummage through the place. Finding a few artifacts that she figured were probably trinkets, Nannley felt them call out to her and didn’t know how to react so she did her best to not feel their pull and to focus on finding any food or useful items. She had been deeply engaged in their scavenging that she hadn’t noticed that the owner of the ship had come back and grabbed Tira. In fact she hadn’t even noticed that until she heard the yelling and turned to see her sister being pulled away by a man with black robes on. Her vision being blurred by the artifacts trying to call out to her with a strong pull all she could make out was the sadistic grin on the man’s face and then the blade of his lightsaber being ignited. Watching in horror as her sister was stabbed through the chest, Nannley in a burst of anger called out on the force for the first time as she managed to push the man out the way so she could run. Being chased down by the man and having an encounter of insults, information, and being pitied, everything about Nannley’s life would change and she had a new goal in life. Immediately after this encounter she was taken from the planet and sent to a satellite minor academy where she was to train in the ways of the force. Though she didn’t understand it well at first she had come to learn the basics as she was a quick learner of saber combat often focusing on that more than her studies in force abilities. Her natural skills as a hunter made her have a knack for the offensive forms and strategies when dueling her opponents in the academy. Over the time she was there one teacher in particular took an interest in her and began to oversee her training personally making sure she was ready to face whatever would come for her in the galaxy. Being such a great student of his for almost three years she started realizing she needed to move up the schedule for her goals if she wanted to accomplish them anytime soon and she started to grow more aggressive in her training. When she came to the decision herself that she was ready she acquired her teacher’s purple bladed lightsaber before beginning to make her way to Korriban in hopes of accomplishing her goal.  |
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Padawan4687
Imperial Intelligence
.: Empress' Sword / Director of Intelligence
Posts: 133
Likes: 112
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Post by Padawan4687 on Jun 4, 2018 3:36:54 GMT -5
IC: Robyn Shaire
Location: Darth 's Tomb, Catacombs, Valley of the Dark Lords, KorribanWith entrance to this next room, Robyn felt the remaining dregs of her capacity to care for these Sith just fall away. The dark powers radiating off of her claimed loot might have had a role in it somewhere... she was more interested in returning to the Academy and show off her wrath to any who would cross her. Especially one lecherous "professor"! She smiled to herself, picturing the shock on the face of one Ermir Marcus as she tore the classroom door off its hinges. Her terrified classmates scrambling to the sides of the room, hoping and praying that they weren't the target of her wrath... That room would be receiving a fresh topcoat of gore. Robyn broke free of her daydreams with what looked like the final room. A coffin at the end of a chasm, which proved to be empty... at least, it WAS, until a ghostly figure revealed itself and spoke. Not even being completely addled by the Dark Side could stop Robyn from immediately recognizing Darth Dreadwar. Robyn could only stand stock still, just looking up at him... which apparently was a bad idea. Crushing weight materialized atop her shoulders, and Robyn dropped to her hands and knees without a sound. The weight kept pressing down, forcing Robyn to support both her weight and Dreadwar's apparent irritation by her elbows. She was already down, what more did he want?! No, he wouldn't be satisfied until the Zeltron was lying completely prone, not even sparing her face from the dust and grit. Well then... Robyn slowly sat up, coughing and rubbing her face with the cloak, So I'm not even worth a 'hello'... I realize my time with you aren't much compared to however long your lifespan, but ouch...TAG: Darth Catalyst, dice, Volshe, @lordjania, Darth Dreadwar, Shira, gorzan
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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 Jun 4, 2018 18:34:37 GMT -5
IC Darth Catalyst Outside Danar's Tomb, Korriban
Catalyst couldn’t help but chuckle at Xirr’s response as his comrade flexed his rather impressive physique. “You aren’t wrong, Xirr. Princesses do need their rest,” Catalyst began slyly. “That’s why I intend to keep my strength until we get back to the Temple where I can ensure she has no troubles in my bedchambers.” He snickered to himself at his own wordplay. The whines of the acolyte Kio drew his attention. Catalyst turned his head in time to see her reduced to little more than dust with an absent flick of the Emperor’s hand.
Almost immediately, his new apprentice was scrounging through the remains like a hungry Kowakian Monkey-lizard digging through a Hutt’s trash bins. He procured the two amulets that Kio had picked up in the treasure room and presented one to Catalyst from a bent knee. "Master, accept my gift,” Neoplix offered with respect. “I would assume you can put this to far better use than she could have possibly hoped." Catalyst recognized the amulet as an Amulet of Concentration. Most generous of you, my apprentice, but where is the other one? Catalyst lightly plucked the necklace from Neoplix’s open hand with his own. He was about to turn away and begin proceeding back to the temple when Neoplix’s voice called him again. "My master. Darth Catalyst,” Neoplix said in an almost nervous tone, “In the coming battles, I will need a weapon. I don't demand anything of you. But if you show the generosity to return my blade, or grant me the other one, I swear I will demonstrate to you just how effective a tool and apprentice I can be to a master with your cunning and power."
Catalyst pondered for a moment. Truly, he didn’t need two blades alongside his lightsabers. And Neoplix certainly had gone above and beyond in ensuring that he didn’t step out of line on their way back out of the tomb. Catalyst drew the Sword of Flames from his belt and stabbed it into the soft sand at his feet. “If you truly feel the need to hold a weapon, then you’ve already lost the first battle with any opponent. True victory lies in being able to fell your enemies before there is a fight to be had.” He gestured to the remains of Jania. “Look to the fine example our Emperor has given. Not a single sword drawn and our Lord Dreadwar commands fear and respect.” He turned back to Neoplix. “Your first lesson, Neolplix, is that not all victories end in the death of your opponent. The sweetest of wins come when he kisses the dirt at your feet.”
TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Volshe, Shira, dice, gorzan, Padawan4687, @lordjania (kind of, sorry brah),
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Post by Deleted on Jun 4, 2018 19:25:12 GMT -5
IC: Darth Solus
Location: The Citadel, Dromund Kaas
The deceased lord’s words made sense to Solus, of course telekinetic power would only temporarily solve the problem. However, right now all we need is a temporary solution. After we have escaped and completed our mission it may be a benefit to send engineers back to get this place up and running again. Off to the side Deleritas looked to be a little flustered, perhaps due to Nostrem completely dismissing him or perhaps due to the games that Nostrem played. Solus lifted one hand slightly, almost unnoticeably motioning for Deleritas to relax. Save the anger. Deleritas was still learning to control his emotions, and there was no better teacher for this than Solus. His calm, confident nature rarely wavered. In fact, Solus believed it to be one of his greatest strengths and a key aspect that set him apart from the run of the mill sith. Deleritas stood out as well. He was loyal to his pack, determined to better himself, and willing to put everything on the line.
“For what it is worth, my Apprentice is loyal. He wouldn’t leave me behind.”
Solus’ trust in his apprentice was very clear. His voice held its confidence and didn’t waver. His confidence in what he was saying was clear. Most sith would think trust a fault, however it is one thing the Jedi have on us. They can trust each other.
“Your compliment is not missed either Lord Nostrem, however back to business. You said a telekinetic shock could power the machine for a short time. Maybe long enough or us to move forward in our exploration, or enough to gather the information we need to get it up and running permanently in the future.”
Solus made his way over to the computers, still watching and listening closely to Nostrem’s response. He searched carefully for a spot to administer a shock, perhaps it would bring the Citadel to life once more. But something rang in his mind. Why are the containers empty? Nostrem died in the Citadel, Did he keep it running after his death or did others keep it running despite Nostrem’s death. Both posed interesting situations. If Nostrem kept it running then he used the last of his life to do so. If others did, Nostrem may have killed them instead of allowing them to get more supplies to run it. That would feed his insanity, wouldn’t it? Either way it didn’t matter to Solus personally, but it did in the development of a strategy. If he kept it running then it shows his devotion to the citadel. If he didn’t then we may be in more danger than I initially thought.
“Nostrem, if you don’t mind me asking. Where did the workers of the Citadel go? Did they abandon it like visionless fools or did they die here with you?”
His hands searched wires as he spoke. Observing computer monitors and listening for the engines to kick on. He very carefully tested electrical charges, he truly did not want to fry any circuits. I do hope to come back. The technology here may be perfect for my future plans.
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gorzan
Citizen
Posts: 93
Likes: 60
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Post by gorzan on Jun 7, 2018 15:19:54 GMT -5
IC: Neoplix
Location: outside the new tomb of Jania Ko
Neoplix knelt, head bowed. The wisdom of catalyst's words did not go over his head. A dead opponent was no good to anyone, and without a kingdom of submitting subjects, a king has no power. But, more importantly, oftentimes power is measured not in the length of your blade, but by the political influence you wield.
"Thank you, my master. I will wield the blade wisely in your name, and shall endeavor to become powerful enough to not have to draw it."
He leaned further forward, kissing the ground at catalyst's feet. He was catalyst'a apprentice, and his submission to catalyst's wishes would reign supreme above all other than his own preservation and ambitions.
Then he stood, whipping the sword from the ground, sending sand flying. Then he turned, striding to the entryway of the tomb, and plunged the sword into the sand. Relying on the talisman of translation, he carved in ancient sith in the sand before the tomb, the sword melting the sand and forming it into rock hard stone, spelling out a message to any who traveled here later.
"Here lies the eternal tomb of Jania Ko. May her death act as a lesson to those who do not fear the emperor: none are beyond his reach and wrath."
Then, reaching down, using his own strength and that of the force, Neoplix lifted the stone so that it stuck up six inches out of the sand, so that as long as the entrance to the tomb was uncovered, the message would be visible. Then, job completed, he slipped the sword onto his back, alongside his old armor.
Perhaps.... he mused.... perhaps this mission the sith masters had sent him on hadn't been a waste after all. A master, an arsenal of new tools and weapons, the armor of a well known Sith Lord, and a new set of allies and information. Nothing could have been a greater reward, especially his new master and meeting the (albeit utterly terrifying) emperor.
He turned to catalyst, lowering his head in submission. "Do you require transportation, master?" He glanced at xirr with a chuckle. If the Sith Lord wanted to poke fun, he would find Neoplix more than ready to respond. Dark mist surrounded him for a second, and then he emerged, now in the form of a tuk'ata, ready to bear the weight of his master and anything he was needed to carry. His voice came out a feral growl. "Perhaps, lord xirr, you should find yourself an apprentice who can carry you!"
Tags: that tomb shizzle
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