Volshe
Administrator 
.: Empress
Posts: 229
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Post by Volshe on Apr 1, 2017 22:12:04 GMT -5
IC: Colu Eriodan
Senate Chambers, Coruscant"Tell me, Colu, do you have insights to share?"Colu tapped a single finger upon the table, raising it up slightly to motion silence as a voice echoed across the Senate, amplified by the pod’s systems. A pointless announcement translated from what seemed to be garbled Ithorian, it faded quickly into the din again. His insights were limited now, his usual carefree attitude replaced with a sombre one. It was only just past noon, yet again he had several close calls all within hours of each other, three agents under Tajis’ command had been investigated by a Valkyrie committee, and he himself had already been stopped by one of their known supporters in Intelligence as he commuted the short distance from the Embassy of Malastare to the Senate Chambers. It was not anything serious, for they had all stood trials or questionings throughout the last four years, and rarely had anything come of it. Par for the course when you are high-ranking government officers whose knowledge and expertise are necessary - but with past allegiances that are seen as troubling at best. It simply became a bore to them all, extra layers of stress upon their frenzied lives spent aiding politicians - and even more stress added to their secret lives, spent preparing the throne for the Empress Volshe’s return. Intrigue and political drama with a side of treason. He almost laughed. And if he hadn’t been so exhausted at that very moment, he might have also marvelled at how he had still managed to arrive nearly an hour before Sallacine. He pondered upon his choices for only a brief moment, flicking through the datapad beside him to glean off any important news he had missed in the day’s chaos. There was not much to change his mind. The three proposals from Sallacine were important to a degree, but Colu was quite sure they would all agree that more time would be welcome before they made any decisions. He certainly would. Making any decision related to the blasted Operation Valkyrie would best wait until he was of clear mind. He set the ‘pad in his lap as he formed some semblance of a plan. “If pointless distraction is what we’d like, I would recommend a bill favouring Sedesia, based off Statute 490.7, section 8.” He referred to the bill that the Empire of Palpatine had instituted initially to pacify them and garner their support in conflicts after their initial revolt - a bill repealed in Krayt’s Empire which had left continual conflict in the Senate. Most especially whenever Ank Kit’aar and its supporting planets re-enacted their barely-legal embargoes on the remainder of the sector - Sedesia being the largest and most affected. “If we support the current crisis to their benefit, then they will likely aid us in more important ways -” His datapad buzzed, faintly, half buried in the heavy green cape that fell from his shoulders. He glanced down. A code, easily recognisable to him, flicked across the screen. Dorn, xesh, xesh, aurek, jenth, enth. Arrest.
Jenth-57, xesh, dorn, vev, grek.
S-57. Rand. S-57. His sector team. He kept his face as still as possible, but could not stop the momentary flicker of shock. He’d seen Rand just that morning, after his ‘interview’ with the officers. All they had questioned was his role in the Committee and a few non-specific lines about his past. There was nothing they could have gleaned. In fact, Rand hadn’t even been working on any clandestine projects for months - at his own precautionary request after a borderline mental health examination. Not as if the man was crazy, though - he was simply under as much pressure as the rest of them. This wasn’t some arrest made after a night of buying up the Coruscant undercity, scandalising the political world. Rand was simple, quaint, merely fiercely loyal in his beliefs. This was driven by some fact of the investigation. Blast, he thought, tightening his palms around the ‘pad. If they had arrested him, they had found something in their investigation. And if they had found something in their investigation - none of them were safe. A pressdroid buzzed passed the pod, whirring as it recorded. He spared a brief thought for his colleague - no doubt being subjected to the Triumvirate’s brand of justice right then - and realised that he had two options. . Hide in plain sight...or run. Neither seemed particularly palatable. That was because neither was a good option. It could be even more suspicious for him to rise...unless… “Sallacine, pardon the interruption, if you please - I have received an important communiqué regarding one of your previous endorsees…” He trailed off momentarily, cold fear shaking his voice and lodging the lie in his throat, “I do believe it needs to be discussed outside the watching walls of the Senate Chambers.” TAG: Darth Dreadwar,TAGSET: Coruscant
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Apr 2, 2017 0:07:08 GMT -5
Thousands of kilometres above...IN THE SHADOW OF VADER'S WRATH The Anaxes War College system had only undergone two revisions in all its centuries of providing a classification schema to naval vessels. The first was in the waning days of the Old Republic, when a ship a thousand times larger than a fighter, a hundred times bigger than a corvette, twenty times greater than a frigate, ten times vaster than a destroyer and twice as mammoth as a battlecruiser first left dock at Kuat Drive Yards. Not a Star Destroyer, not a Star Battlecruiser, but something so gargantuan it deserved a new classification just for it. A Star Dreadnaught. It was called the Mandator-class, and it would serve as inspiration for the Bellator-class, Secutor-class and ultimately the Executor-class... That line of wedge-shaped behemoths colloquially dubbed Super Star Destroyers, that would culminate in the crown jewel of the New Galactic Empire, the Triumphant. In 150 ABY, the Anaxes War College had been forced to publish a new schema. The Mandator-class had been 8,000 kilometres in length. The Executor-class had been an unprecedented 19,000. Star Dreadnaught simply did not adequately describe a leviathan that measured 66,000 kilometres from the spear-like tip of its bow to the bank of scarlet-glowing sublight engines at its stern. And so the first Star Monitor came to be. A classification deemed fitting for what could be described as a chassis for a superweapon more than a ship. The Devastator-class Star Monitor had been dreamed up by scientists of the mad clones of Palpatine, their blueprints stolen from Byss by the agents of the True Sith shortly before the planet's destruction. It had been envisaged as the ultimate weapon that literally and truly lived up to the moniker Star Destroyer, combining the concept of the Galaxy Gun with the Eclipse-class Star Dreadnaught. Ultimately, even superweapon-obsessed Palpatine, his mind increasingly enfeebled by the degradation of the clone bodies his spirit cleaved to, the same genius if insane mind that had approved the Death Star battlestations and the Eye of Palpatine and the Tarkin and the World Devastators and the Sun Crusher, discarded the idea. For a ship capable of firing particle disintegrator warheads like the Galaxy Gun, while preserving the hallmark crust-busting axial superlaser of the Eclipse, required a hull of unreasonable proportions, beyond even the resources of the revitalised Galactic Empire. Enter Darth Dreadwar. The newly-awakened Lord of the True Sith had laughed at the idea of being limited by resources. In the darkness of the Unknown Regions, he had a Star Forge. And thus had the theretofore purely hypothetical Devastator-class been realised. Its relatively compact - if one could call a 33,000 kilometre ship compact - prototype, the eponymous Devastator, had its superweapons destroyed when colliding with an enemy Dreadnaught in a training exercise, exposing the weakness of gargantuan weapon platforms of planetary destruction. But Dreadwar had turned to the designs of the Sun Crusher for a solution, layering the pronged tip of the full version with quantum crystalline armour, creating an extendable ram that offered it unconquerable superiority in fleet engagements. The Wrath of Vader was born. It had first seen use during the Shadow War, when its commander had captured Darth Insipid and sent him to the depths of a dungeon, but it had only been unveiled to the wider galaxy when the Sith, unified in the wake of the apocalyptic Battle of Mobus, had surged forth from the Unknown Regions to conquer the Outer Rim. The Devastator-class Star Monitor had evaded every attempt at capture, ruining entire fleets with side-mounted ion cannons, ravaging entire worlds and igniting entire stars. Its arsenal was not solely mundane; no, like the Fortress of Almas, it was as much a dark side temple as a technological terror, coursing with Force Lightning and other malfeasant arcana that ensnared foes its more ordinary weaponry could not touch. It was a ghost ship in more ways than one. And the Morthi was beneath the belly of the beast. As Kevala and Scionica looked out the viewport, they would see details the opaqueness of its silhouette had previously prevented, highlighted by Horuset's light against the backdrop of one of Korriban's moons. Lightning crackled along its underside, unnatural in its violet cadence, searing the malevolence of Sith sorcery into the emptiness of space. The supernatural energy arced menacingly towards them, as if the dark side itself was bidding the twins welcome. But no, the forks stopped just shy of the comparatively tiny craft, as if a god had thought better of singeing the wings of the gnatfly.
As the Morthi drifted closer, more morbid details became apparent.
Corpses.
Corpses everywhere, dotting the hull, leashed there as a macabre display of medieval barbarism, a warning to any who saw the Star Monitor up close. This is your fate.
But it would not be the fate of the twins this day. After many agonising minutes, after 66,000 excruciating kilometres, the Morthi broke free of the Wrath of Vader's terrible shadow, and crimson filled the viewport. But cloaked as it was, not one glint of bloodshine light from the vast engines reflected from the Morthi's invisible hull, and the ship continued to safely, stealthily glide through the small escorting flotilla.
They had made it. Korriban loomed larger in their viewport, and with it, their inescapable destiny.
TAG: Shira
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elu
Citizen
Posts: 17 
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Post by elu on Apr 4, 2017 3:49:04 GMT -5
OOC: I see your mentioning of the Shado Varmiri. Very nice. Darth Persevus IC:~Dungeon, Cathedral of the Holy Jedi Spirits, Odessen~The irony of his person attempting to infiltrate a Jedi building, of any form, for an artifact was not lost on him. Indeed, it was one of amusement. The dungeon itself was rather the opposite, but it was a necessary means to an end. He allowed his capture to get closer to his objective. Yes, he was one of those types in this particular scenario. And sometimes, that tactic worked well. In his case, he didn't even need to get the attention of the Ordu Aspectu. All he had to do was arrive on Odessen. The Scimitar, kept hidden and out of their reach, landed silently. One of his many artifacts and perhaps his most practically useful one. Departing it, he made his way around the odd group of people compromised of Force Sensitives and Non-Force Sensitives equally calling themselves the Shado Varmiri. Bunch of heretical ingrates in his opinion, but then again everyone wanted to make a name for themselves these days. Apparently Force Orders were the new thing. At first it was lightsabers, then lightsaber colors, then who had the coolest mask, now entire orders. They'll make a wrong move at some point and be wiped out of existence, I am sure. Probably by the Ordu Aspectu.He thought nothing more of them, they did not hold his focus currently, and made his way to the shoreline. And waited. It wasn't long before they came for him. His mere presence and its aura in the Dark Side was like an irresistible lure for types like these. Zealots. Every last one of them. Putting up a mediocre fake display of resistance, he 'succumbed' to their might and allowed himself to be put here. Their allowance of him keeping his relics upon him was a positive he hadn't expected. And here he thought he'd have to hunt them down again the hard way. Still as he remained chain to the wall, he had to sigh mentally. Ysalamiri. Of course there'd be ysalamiri. Little nuances. He paid little mind of the other two prisoners. Honestly, he didn't quite care. Till one spoke up. The lizard looking species. "You came for the holocron too, didn't you. I tried to pull it from the altar without disturbing the alarms, with my electromagnets here. But they parking didn't work. Nothing works here."He allowed himself to take a bit more note of his companions. One wearing power armor and well…the lizard thing with a wookiee pelt. Or looked like wookiee anyway. At least they had good taste in treasure hunting preferences. "So…How'd you guys get captured?"Persevus said nothing. His tactics were his own. There may be a cause for sharing information with this pair, but not yet. "And…Any ideas to get the hell out of here?"
"Well hello there! Do you guys…hang…around here often?"The Sith wanted to groan. Puns. This fool was making puns. Before he could think of any response, should he bother to give any, the man in the armor decided to reply to the lizard's questions. "Yes indeed. Once I got in, it was a bit of a disappointment that none of my gear would work. So, I decided to do things the hard way. Break into the safe room, knock some heads, and then just get right back out. Only, on the way back out, surprisingly enough, some of them took objection to me trying to steal their treasured artifact. Crazy, right? Anyway, a decent brawl and club over the head later, here I am!"This man, clearly male from his form and voice through his mask, actually thought he could get in and out like that? Well… brutes did have their uses after all. "Although I must say, not taking my suit was definitely a mistake. I do make a tendency of escaping from prisons a lot, and this certainly isn't the most difficult. Although, escaping without any of my gear is going to make things quite a bit harder."At least the man seemed somewhat resourceful as he twisted himself around, manually kicked out a vibroblade from his boot and managed to shatter his chains. From there he right himself painfully, disconnected his wrist and escaped the shackles, before re-connecting it. "The name is Kint. Kint Dralor. Or you can call me by my official title, Gorzan, but I normally reserve that for people whose butt I am in the process of kicking. And right now, I most certainly have a plan to get out, and if you want, you can get out too. There will however be a small fee upon our escape. Say, a couple thousand credits."As he fiddled with his armor, Persevus idly wondered if the man talked this much all the time or if it was just a byproduct of being stuck in a dungeon. He had said he had a habit of being imprisoned. Rather unhealthy in his opinion. "You know, this is a lot more convenient when I can open it with eye movements."Finally he managed to get out a lightsaber, which of course didn't work due to the Cathedral, and used the side blades to free both him and the lizard. The fact that they were both clearly Force Sensitive at some level due to their words and equipment didn't surprise him. Rarely did Non-Sensitives target holocrons and the like. "Let us hope they didn't hear the chain breaking. Appreciated, but loud." "Alright, now stand back from the door."Persevus sighed and waited for the inevitable as the man tried to arm an explosive charge. Which, naturally, was nothing in this case. "Dammit, forgot about that! Okay, so my bombs aren't getting us out. Any other ideas?"Saying nothing more, the Sith moved swiftly up to the bars and took a close look at them. As well as the little creatures intended to stop him from using the Force. A nice tactic, but eventually those who are perceptive can overcome such cliché Force Deterrents. But I'd rather not show my hand too much as of now.So, he was cut off from the force. His lightsabers were useless and his other relics didn't quite have any practical means of breaking down prison bars. That left his companions. His mind raced as to what he noticed of them earlier and so he turned back to the 'brute.' "You. Dralor or Gorzan was it? Your armor clearly has more gadgets I am assuming. Do you have anything that can bend the bars, sever the hinges, or otherwise yank the door from its place in the wall…fairly quietly?" If not, there were always backup plans. "If they heard the shattering of chains, we do not have much time." Tag: Darth Dreadwar, gorzan, |
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gorzan
Citizen
Posts: 93
Likes: 60
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Post by gorzan on Apr 4, 2017 13:53:55 GMT -5
elu, Darth Dreadwar, Kint glanced over at the Sith, before looking back at the door. Then, he had an idea. "Hmmmmm. I might have just the thing, give me a second." he popped his flamethrower napalm charge out of his gauntlet, splitting up the four cells. He put two of them back in, and then placed the other two on the hinges of the door. "This should melt through those hinges without too much trouble, and they won't cause any noise." Then he yanked out the battery, and pressed it up against the door. There were some electrical sparks, and then the two charges ignited, swiftly melting through the hinges.then he yanked out the hinges, leaving the door balanced in the frame. "You guys ready to move, or any other ideas first?"
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Padawan4687
Imperial Intelligence
.: Empress' Sword / Director of Intelligence
Posts: 133 
Likes: 112
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Post by Padawan4687 on Apr 4, 2017 23:12:57 GMT -5
IC: Robyn Shaire
Location: Sith Temple HangarI should just walk away right now. Robyn even lowered her forehead against the handle of her hovercart for a few seconds and refused to take a single step forward. I should just turn around, walk back inside, and get that stupid coat. Damn all of you!"Oh, lucky me! I'm going to freeze out here!" Even though all of her skin was covered, there was no way her shirt would be thick enough to withstand this cold for long...and her cloak was only secured around her shoulders. Unless she held it tightly in place it would billow and flap and offer no warmth whatsoever. And Lady Apollyon had the nerve to laugh earlier! Hm... she lifted her head and looked at the cart again. This wouldn’t be the first time I got out of a jam using one of these... she thought, leaning to one side to examine it further. It’s a mountain pass too, wonderful! Unsteady ground galore! Will I even be able to keep this thing steady or will I be leaning on it constantly? ...and it doesn't look like there's anything on it that can help me stay warm. She returned to standing upright with an irritated sigh, pressing a hand against her forehead and brushing aside some loose strands of hair. Just my poor classmate's body......or maybe there is? Her fingers suddenly froze, and her expression almost crumbled in disgust at her own idea. It sounded like something Dreadwar would suggest with how coldly he could regard others! Sick! Maybe it actually was Dreadwar exerting his own influence over her mind, like Lady Viscretus did?! She didn't even need to check to know how untrue that little theory was... Robyn finally allowed herself to look critically at Chakran as he lay on the cart, and bit her lip. Am I really that desperate? I won't exactly be out there for hours...they did say it was a short walk. She could just imagine the man standing beside her now, attempting to goad her onward and set aside her wish to respect the dead. And the shortest stick I have been given... I'm sorry Chakran.Robyn hurried forward into the cold to catch up with the others, holding back a sick feeling deep in the pit of her stomach. Her classmate's body still rested on the hovercart behind her that she now controlled with the Force, but his black jacket was gone. Chakran had worn a grey shirt underneath much like Robyn's so he wasn't completely uncovered... She held her arms to stave off a shiver, and couldn't decide if it was from the chill that the jacket couldn't completely protect against, or disgust at the fact that she was literally wearing the clothes of a corpse. "Pardon me for keeping you waiting," she decided to quickly speak up then, knowing full well that nobody actually "waited". She turned to address Lady Viscretus in particular "...and please forgive me Lady Viscretus, I had to follow Master Marcus's orders. He'd probably hurt and kill even more of my classmates if I disobeyed and he found out, even with your given permission."TAG: Darth Catalyst , Darth Dreadwar , Volshe
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elu
Citizen
Posts: 17
Likes: 22
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Post by elu on Apr 6, 2017 3:02:21 GMT -5
Darth Persevus IC:~Dungeons, Cathedral of the Holy Jedi Spirit, Odessen~Quietly the Sith Lord watched Kint work at taking out a weapon and discharging some cells from within it. Curious. What was he up to? Explosives were already shown not to work, yet he waited to see what he was planning first before replying. This was rewarded by an act of basic chemistry playing out before him and managing to melt through the hinges, whereupon the door was then swiftly removed by the man. "Well done," was all he said before immediately swiveling to point a finger at the tiss'shar. "You. You are well equipped at dealing with those things in an efficient manner I suspect." His thumb had jerked toward the now vulnerable ysalamiri as the door had been removed. "After that, Dralor. We need to move and single file will be a good orderly way of escape. You're best equipped to take point and…" he sighed as he still didn't know or recall the lizard's name, "you are obviously the swiftest. Stay in the middle incase you need to quickly flank an enemy. I'll cover the rear." If things were going to go according to plan, he needed to make sure his plan was put forth quickly and smoothly. And again, they didn't have much time. Tag: Darth Dreadwar, gorzan
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Volshe
Administrator
.: Empress
Posts: 229
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Post by Volshe on Apr 6, 2017 17:31:52 GMT -5
IC: Darth ViscretusMountain Pass to Dreshdae"Pardon me for keeping you waiting...and please forgive me Lady Viscretus, I had to follow Master Marcus's orders. He'd probably hurt and kill even more of my classmates if I disobeyed and he found out, even with your given permission."Viscretus was already shaking her head in mock disgust by the time she had completed her ‘apology’. “Forgiveness?” she laughed, throwing her head back with a peal, “I do not grant forgiveness, Initiate.” She unhooked the homeostatic amulet from about her neck and tossed it towards Catalyst - generously granting him a smile and the ability to control his body temperature - before taking an imperious step towards the Zeltron. “What if, in exchange for your disobedience...I smote you where you stood?” Blue electricity crackled to life in the palms of her hands, tendrils of spark dancing at her fingertips. She sneered, eyes flaring with tempestuous fire. “It would be deserved for such Jedi-like convictions.” The lightning flared for a moment with supernatural roar, before enveloping her in a shield of warming static. A buffer from the cold winds of the desert, not a tool for the Initiate’s demise. “You miss the irony, Shaire. Your very concern for the others is the reason his tactics are effective. Care not for them, and they would remain unscathed. Stand up to his petulant ‘punishments’ and you would have power over him - just as you would not spend your walk freezing, clad in the meagre clothing of a corpse.”
She snapped her head forward, starting upon the pathway to the ruins of Dreshdae - and then, the Valley - without another utterance. TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Padawan4687, Darth Catalyst, TAGSET: False Tomb of Naga Sadow
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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 Apr 6, 2017 21:13:31 GMT -5
IC LORD CATALYST Mountain pass to DreshdaeCatalyst pulled his robes tighter around him. He was used to the cold. Dromund Kaas wasn't exactly warm at night. And there was nothing colder than the flash freezing of Carbonite hibernation. But this was still mildly unpleasant. Willpower would keep him warm long enough before he would need to reach our and steal someone elses. He heard Robyn's call as she came up behind them with the cart. She had taken the outer robe of the dead boy and was wearing it over the vest Apollyon gave her. Smart. She was certainly resourceful for an initiate. Catalyst was still entertaining the thought of taking her as an apprentice. Would certainly rub Marcus the wrong way. Catalyst smirked at the thought. Of course Marcus may just thank him for getting rid of a "problem student" in his eyes. A win-win really. He might just have to ask permission to train her further. If she survived of course.
“I do not grant forgiveness, Initiate.” Viscretus laughed at Shaire. He caught the amulet she tossed towards him. Well this changes things. He recognized the amulet of temperature control. Useful. He returned Viscretus's smile and fastened the amulet around his neck while she advanced on Robyn. “What if, in exchange for your disobedience...I smote you where you stood?” Well there goes all chances of training her. Catalyst dared not speak up as electricity crackled from Viscretus's palms. He couldn't beat her alone. He could probably get one or two good hits in but would either die by her hand or Apollyon's as she ended him from behind. He turned his head as the lightning roared around her and only looked back when the crackling was barely static around her. “You miss the irony, Shaire. Your very concern for the others is the reason his tactics are effective. Care not for them, and they would remain unscathed. Stand up to his petulant ‘punishments’ and you would have power over him - just as you would not spend your walk freezing, clad in the meagre clothing of a corpse.” Catalyst was caught off guard. He was sure Viscretus was about to end Robyn's life for her blatant disregard of her orders. He threw back his head and laughed loudly while Viscretus turned and continued down the path. "And here I thought you were being resourceful," he quipped towards Robyn as they continued down the path. "Or perhaps just bringing something for Apollyon to chew on while we explore the tombs," he called loudly enough that she was sure to hear. "I know how she fancies calamari among the other finer perks of being the Emperor's Hand!" He was pushing his luck, he knew, but if Apollyon really did snap and decide to attack him it would only prove that she had a weakness that anyone could exploit. That fact bought him more confidence than the armor he wore. This would definitely prove to be a fun little jaunt. He concentrated his mind on the amulet Viscretus tossed him and found a temperature that would keep him comfortable. A fun little jaunt indeed. TAG: Volshe, Darth Dreadwar, Padawan4687,
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Apr 7, 2017 1:55:02 GMT -5
IC: Darth ApollyonApproaching the Dead City, Dreshdae"Oh, lucky me! I'm going to freeze out here!" The surprise in Robyn's tone, in turn, surprised Apollyon. Had she truly never left the cloisters of the Sith Temple in all her time on Korriban? Had she not felt the bitter cold of its biting winds? Apollyon closed her fiery eyes against the dust swirling around her as she continued to walk, the pink hybrid receding from view, holding a hand out in front of her to telekinetically ward herself against the sand. She cursed as her slick leather boots slipped on the stone, their poor grip doing little to make the walk down the mountain pass much easier. But the Force was her ally, and she swiftly righted herself, feeding off the adrenaline that her heart pumped through her veins at tripping so close to the perilous cliff edge. "Pardon me for keeping you waiting," Robyn's voice came back to her as she hurried to catch up with the trio. "...and please forgive me Lady Viscretus, I had to follow Master Marcus' orders. He'd probably hurt and kill even more of my classmates if I disobeyed and he found out, even with your given permission." Disgust rippled from Viscretus' aura in the Force, a putrid green in her mind's eye that was only matched by the effulgence that radiated from her own. Apparently, Viscretus had ordered Shaire to leave the corpse behind...? That was the only logical deduction to make, based on Robyn's apology. But it was not Viscretus undermining Apollyon's previous instructions that brought a sneer to her lip; it was Robyn. While she was glad to see her friend stymied by Robyn's courageous defiance, the Initiate's reasoning was less than stellar. Viscretus was spot-on in her angry reply. "Jedi-like convictions," indeed. What sort of bleeding-heart acolyte was motivated by concern for her classmates? By her logic, she should have hastened to obey Viscretus, thereby encouraging Marcus to wipe out her rivals! What sort of Sith was this? A resourceful one, her inner critic chided. S he did display proper temperament in robbing the dead, rightly recognising corpses have no use for clothing... or dignity. No, Apollyon would not write her off yet. After all, she had been brought to the Temple by the illustrious Emperor himself. The Dread Lord saw a plane higher, and even the most trivial of his actions were always carefully balanced in the scales of his malice. Levels and levels, layers upon layers, wheels within wheels... Such was the cleft and warp of her Master's cunning. "...just bringing something for Apollyon to chew on while we explore the tombs!" Catalyst's call interrupted her ruminations on Robyn's significance to her Master. "I know how she fancies calamari among the other finer perks of being the Emperor's Hand!" What?Apollyon replayed the snippet that had reclaimed her attention. She snorted softly. Calamari... Ah, the Nautolan. A barbaric suggestion - the most macabre delicacy she permitted herself was the popular Sith dish of bloodsoup - but an amusing one. Catalyst was testing her, she knew, but there were only two options here; to betray the effect of his jibes and cause a scene, and no doubt be overpowered by Catalyst and Viscretus in a way that would make her look weak twofold, or convey strength by taking it in stride. Uncontrollable laughter made her decision for her. Peals of undignified cackling were torn from her throat, quite unbidden, the Sith Master shaking her head all the while. Her brain had thrown up the image of her idly chewing on the Nautolan's lekku while weaving between deadly tomb traps, and it was just too much. Oh, but Catalyst had set her up for the perfect prank! She looked behind her at the Sith following. They had walked down and through the swirling haze of dust that cleaved to near the Temple's elevation, now, and the air was clearing somewhat, the winds slackening, as the path began to level out. "A delightful idea, Lord Catalyst!" Apollyon grinned. "But I have not eaten since breakfast. I think I might enjoy some seafood before we get to Dreshdae." The ruins of the Dead City were only a few hundred feet away now, the rusted skeleton of spires long-since covered in sufficient sand as to make them appear rather like termite mounds, surrounded by a handful of elongated buttresses that were all that remained of what had once been an entire ring of city walls. Only a short plain lay between them and it; on the other side, she could already see the mountains through which the infamous Valley of Dark Lords cut through like the fissure on a dessicated corpse.  Apollyon, that strange smile still creasing her features with mirth, stretched a hand out towards the hovercart Robyn now pulled behind her with the Force. A sickening noise split the air, as the tip of one of Chakran's head-tresses seemed to detach from the corpse's cranium and lazily float towards her waiting palm. In actuality, Apollyon was merely creating a Sith illusion. Her mental powers were not as honed as Viscretus', so she suspected the two Sith Masters would see the mind trick for what it was. But Robyn... Robyn would undoubtedly be horrified. Winking in Catalyst's direction, she popped the phantasmal lekku into her mouth, and with a disgustingly sloppy noise, the tiny appendage wiggled and disappeared as if she was an unmannerly child hoovering up a noodle from a bowl of spaghetti. "That hit the spot," Apollyon pretended to chew, watching Robyn's reaction out of the corner of her eye. If she had been looking ahead and not expending her power on practical jokes, perhaps Apollyon would have sensed the Tuk'ata before its jaw snapped shut around her right wrist. The Sith hound had seemingly come from nowhere, lunging out of its hiding spot behind a nearby boulder as Apollyon passed, and already it was shaking its horned skull, teeth piercing Apollyon's flesh to the white of flimsy carpal bones, hoping to rip Apollyon's arm from its socket. The Sith Master's shrill cry was not only in agonising pain, but in fear; six more Tuk'ata bounded from a small cave near the base of the mountain they had descended, quickly moving to surround the Sith with hellish barks. The beasts were the guardian jackals of Korriban, kept alive for centuries by the ambient dark side energy of the world. Mutated by Sith alchemy in a bygone age, the ancient monsters sported magically toughened skin that was partially resistant to even a strike from a lightsaber. There was no time to react. The pack attacked. TAG: Darth Catalyst , Volshe , Padawan4687
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Padawan4687
Imperial Intelligence
.: Empress' Sword / Director of Intelligence
Posts: 133
Likes: 112
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Post by Padawan4687 on Apr 7, 2017 17:02:32 GMT -5
IC: Robyn Shaire
Location: Approaching the Dead City, Dreshdae“Forgiveness?” Lady Viscretus did not sound interested, even shaking her head in visible disgust. “I do not grant forgiveness, Initiate. What if, in exchange for your disobedience...I smote you where you stood?” Robyn's stomach sank, but her expression remained still as though it was stuck. It only shifted at the sight and sound of sizzling blue lightning appearing in her hands and Robyn's hand flew to her belt. “It would be deserved for such Jedi-like convictions.” Just a bit faster than Robyn could bring up her lightsaber hilt, the lightning was fired. The blinding instant of pain before emptiness she was completely expecting never happened, and she opened her eyes after a long second to see the launched electricity wrapped around her instead of within...keeping out the cold. That's twice my life has been threatened in the last hour... Robyn bit her lip to silence a relieved sigh, and instead stared up at Viscretus. “You miss the irony, Shaire. Your very concern for the others is the reason his tactics are effective. Care not for them, and they would remain unscathed. Stand up to his petulant ‘punishments’ and you would have power over him - just as you would not spend your walk freezing, clad in the meagre clothing of a corpse.” Lady Viscretus looked at Robyn as though she were something scraped from the bottom of her boot before whipping around and stalking onward without another word. He would have killed ME! Robyn was about to scream at the Lady's back, And if he didn't, he'd have saddled me with carrying even more bodies! She instead grasped at her head in nothing but frustration. "I give up." she sighed to herself, throwing up her hands, "You just can't win with these...catty Sith Ladies, unless you want to just give up your humanity! Like it's so easy to just not give a damn which spine you step on or who's...throat you crush."She could hear Lord Catalyst laughing at her, but she remained thoroughly stone-faced. "And here I thought you were being resourceful," he quipped towards Robyn as they continued down the path. "Or perhaps just bringing something for Apollyon to chew on while we explore the tombs," he called loudly enough for her to hear. "I know how she fancies calamari among the other finer perks of being the Emperor's Hand!" Robyn failed to find the humor in his idea, and mutely glared at him instead of replying. "A delightful idea, Lord Catalyst! But I have not eaten since breakfast. I think I might enjoy some seafood before we get to Dreshdae." Apollyon's voice sounded from up ahead against her own laughter, and Robyn finally looked up in disgust. She can't be serious! My classmate is not food! Robyn's thoughts were broken by a sickening tearing sound coming from somewhere behind her, and she whipped around in time to see a small tentacle . A tentacle from Chakran's head, a piece of his lekku?! Robyn shut her eyes to hold back bile as it slowly moved past her face. You freaks just delight in making me want to vomit! She lowered her head and allowed a shiver. Or scare me half to death like Dreadwar! Only, wait a second...he always used fake things when he wanted to scare me. Illusions. Robyn lifted her head with angry suspicion in her eyes instead of fear or even disgust. You're the Emperor's Hand, so I don't doubt you use a lot of his techniques, Lady Apollyon. With that in mind, Robyn just managed to put her little display of apparent cannibalism on (mostly) ignore because something else was vying for her attention...an aura in hiding? Robyn crossed her arms, and said nothing as the aura in question burst out into the open and clamped its jaws down onto Apollyon's wrist. A tuk'ata? The very thing everyone insisted on ME being the likely bait for. Too bad, Apollyon! That's just what you get for spending so much brainpower on scaring me instead of paying attention! She even smiled for a second before recognizing that the attacking beast wasn't exactly alone. Three, four, five... Six? A whole pack was after them and they left the Sith Temple just a few minutes ago! "Who's food now?!"Within seconds the remaining five were on them. Robyn went for the first thing she could think of, the hovercart. Robyn already had been steering it with the Force, so it didn't take much to send it blazing forward to the beast attempting to wrench Lady Apollyon's arm right out of the socket. She knew the skin of the tuk'ata was tough enough to withstand a lightsaber, but what about brute force? Immediately afterward, Robyn went for her lightsaber and ignited the violet blade. Since even the Emperor's Hand was afraid of them, this fight was definitely not going to be easy. TAG: Darth Catalyst , Darth Dreadwar , Volshe
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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 Apr 7, 2017 17:49:06 GMT -5
IC LORD CATALYSTNearing DreshdaeCatalyst was caught completely off guard by Apollyon's cackling. She's finally snapped. This is where I die. His hand touched the saber on his belt as she raised her hand, surely to pull his life from him. He closed his eyes, resigning himself. Absolutely worth pushing her over the edge.
"A delightful idea, Lord Catalyst!" What? "But I have not eaten since breakfast. I think I might enjoy some seafood before we get to Dreshdae." He heard the snap and rip of flesh being pulled apart. But not his. He opened his eyes as a Nautolan tentacle floated past his face and into Apollyon's extended hand. Was she really- and into her mouth. Catalyst had to do a double take. Had she just- no... There's no missing tentacle on the boys head. Oh! Clever Apollyon! He let out a howling laugh as she seemed to make a show of chewing and swallowing it. His laugh was cut short by the Tuk'ata that emerged from behind her. "Look out!" he yelled at her, pulling his saber into his hand, but it was too late. The hounds jaws were firmly encircled around her wrist. Her scream was bone chilling. Catalyst ignited each blade of his saber and dropped naturally into a defensive position. They had been surrounded. He had let them get surrounded. Stupid! He looked around as the Tuk'ata circled them, ready to intercept any that jumped his way. TAG: Volshe, Darth Dreadwar, Padawan4687,
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Volshe
Administrator
.: Empress
Posts: 229
Likes: 163
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Post by Volshe on Apr 7, 2017 20:10:44 GMT -5
IC: Darth Viscretus
Mountain Pass to DreshdaeViscretus had only proceeded a mere five steps before Robyn dared utter a response - rather, her thoughts did. A shriek of annoyance, echoing in cold air as if she had screamed it from the peaks beyond. He would have killed ME!
Much better. She was about to give her praise with a saccharine, satisfied smirk when the thought faded into muttering. "I give up. You just can't win with these...catty Sith Ladies, unless you want to just give up your humanity! Like it's so easy to just not give a damn which spine you step on or who's...throat you crush." The Sith Lady stopped, turned, smoothed her robes and began making a mental note - as Catalyst chimed in as well. "And here I thought you were being resourceful," he quipped towards Robyn as they continued down the path, past Viscretus. "Or perhaps just bringing something for Apollyon to chew on while we explore the tombs, I know how she fancies calamari among the other finer perks of being the Emperor's Hand!" He was calling to Apollyon now, evidently attempting to trigger the smouldering Hand into another explosion. Wonderful, just what they needed. She was quite tempted to return to the Temple now, their progress before another fight boding pitifully for the mission ahead. In the time they had taken to wait for the Initiate and this useless bickering, they could have been halfway there already. "A delightful idea, Lord Catalyst!" Apollyon replied, the same faux cheeriness dripping from her words. "But I have not eaten since breakfast. I think I might enjoy some seafood before we get to Dreshdae."She brought a faux-tentacle shimmering to life with illusion and began to float it towards her, some infantile attempt at a prank. Viscretus simply averted her eyes from her friend’s antics, gazing out towards the winding paths beyond, carving themselves between abandoned citadel and wind-swept mountain. They were wasting time, now, playing games with the Nautolan and Initiate when the Tomb awaited them - and the wilds of Korriban watched them. She sighed, the soft hiss shattered with Apollyon screaming in a tormented rage. Don’t tell me she has finally snapped- Viscretus thought as she turned, and in an instant, one glowing blade of her ‘saber was in hand. A herd of tuk’ata had found them - and one of them had found Apollyon’s wrist in its jaws, cutting through flesh with frightening ease.
“Dear Vahl,” she breathed, mouth open in shock, “You grotthu.” Blood was already seeping from the wound, bubbling up from the ripped sinew and exposed bone. "Who's food now?!"You will be, Initiate, She shot back mentally, making yet another note. The thought boiled with an irritated venom, mixing with adrenaline and biting at her skin. Her muscles tensed in anticipation. She leaped from the perimetre the tuk’ata had begun to close, slashing at the heels and backs of two of them, hoping to draw them away. Catalyst and Robyn stood at the centre with their ‘sabers ignited, ready to defend. “Separate them,” she called, focussing on the mind of the beast who still held Apollyon in its jaws. She had never attempted to invoke beast trick on an entire pack of tuk’ata, and she certainly would not unless they left no other choice - but they would make quick work of them if they were not overwhelmed in numbers. The hovercart careened towards the Sith beast, its gaze not so much as flinching as it closed in. She did not expect it to make much of an impact besides a distraction, but a quick effort nonetheless - and at the very least it would add to the chaos and confusion of the fight, making it easier to distract the beasts. Her eyes met the tuk’ata’s - beady little eyes set in canid skull, still wrapped around caramel flesh, streaked in blood - and she hissed through the Force. The shield about her faltered with the sudden redirection of the Force - straight into the spongy grey cerebrum of the mammal. “Ur-kaa! Ridaszi ji!” Halt! Leave her!
She guided the ripple of willing further into the tuk’ata’s mind, a hook twining into its neurons until it became an overpowering screech of urgency, demanding it release Apollyon with words that were even more irresistible than the meat before it. And yet, in the split second it took to do such, the two tuk’ata she had antagonised had turned upon her, anger glowing in their eyes, manes bristling. Gripping her ‘saber tighter, she crouched in anticipation to leap or charge. Her free hand crackled to life with lightning, her robes danced about her as she charged to the side, sending a bolt of electricity coursing towards one of the beasts. TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Padawan4687, Darth Catalyst, TAGSET: False Tomb of Naga Sadow
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avaris
Citizen
Posts: 7
Likes: 9
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Post by avaris on Apr 8, 2017 0:23:37 GMT -5
IC: Darth Avaris
Throne Room
The room suddenly became cold.
"Many Sith befooore me? Teachings of the ancient Sssith? Oh, Xirr, my sssswweet ssssummer child. I am the ancient Sith.
"You look upon Ku'ar Danar. I was Master among Jedi before I became Lord over the Sith. It was I who instigated the Hundred-Year Darkness, creating an Order to span eternity, an Order from the chaos of the Jedi exiles and a primitive race of crimson-skinned barbarians they bred with. I was the first, and so will I be last."
He is the ancient Sith?
Wind came rushing through the throne room as she looked at him with curiosity. She shivered as it froze her skin but she was more focused on what was just said. Her teachers had known he was old but they knew little else. Only what the years and years of prophecies and visions had told them paired with the rare encounters with historians and lorekeepers.
It all seemed to start to make sense as he spoke. The things she had been told fell into place even though before they had been strange stories that felt like they were only magical fairytales. It was interesting to say the least.
"And you, Lady Avaris, follow a lie. I slept, frozen in time, when Bane issued his edict, but with a historian's eye I can look upon the thousand years his decree held sway, and judge the cunning of his Duumvirate. To one who plays a level higher as I, its hidden brilliance is obvious, but the reason for its brilliance is the same for why no Sith should ever follow it."
"If I tell you that I theorise the Rule to be the greatest trick a Sith ever pulled, what would you answer me, Lady Avaris? Take some time to ponder the riddle..."
He turned away from her back to Xirr. She took a minute but not much longer out of respect for the Emperor. She already had an answer that had been cultivated in her past.
“It gave him the ultimate control,” she said as she bowed her head. “He did not have to answer to any other Sith and he only had to face one other Sith near as powerful as him. The great secrets could remain easily protected and the great power is only threatened by one as well. With mistakes these can both become fatal flaws but in the right hands they enable unlimited power.”
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Shira
Administrator
.: Empress' Hand
Posts: 135
Likes: 114
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Post by Shira on Apr 8, 2017 20:44:30 GMT -5
IC: Shira A'dola
Personal quarters, The Triumphant
Her body tried to pull her back into slumber; the sheer exhaustion of the previous month had finally caught up to her and the compulsion to merely sleep the time away was powerful. Yet, the inherent wrongness surrounding her was building and warping, the resonance a thick, black fog in her mind that grew to fill her quarters. It became too much to ignore as the alarm bells set off in her mind through the Force wailed to unbearable levels and she opened her eyes.
Her door was gone. There was a scratching emerging at some location in her quarters. Rather than the normal irritation it would have provided, she felt fear in her belly as a compact ball of tightness. Her slate-grey eyes shifted slightly to the corner and she had to bite back a scream.
This apparition, this...thing could not exist. It could not. Yet it stood before her in a mess of warped features and impossible proportions, fanged mouth gaping in an insane grin.
I CAN SEE YOU.
A yelp escaped her as she leapt out of bed and ignited her ‘saber. The silver-white of the blade’s light cast odd shadows on the creature, making it, if possible, more nightmarish than it had been in the bioluminescent dark of her quarters.
“What do you want? Who are you?” she shouted, cringing internally at the quavering note in her voice and trying to keep the wild fear flowing through her in check.
TAG: Darth Dreadwar
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Shira
Administrator
.: Empress' Hand
Posts: 135
Likes: 114
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Post by Shira on Apr 8, 2017 22:49:37 GMT -5
IC: Kevala and Scionica
The Morthi, Korriban, outside the city of Dreshdae
Scionica’s fingers tapped silently on the arm of her seat as they safely, inexplicably, glided past the last inch of The Wrath of Vader. Kevala let out a long breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. Neither said a word, as if even a whisper would extinguish the safety of their hidden passage. They sailed slowly through the atmosphere and landed in the shadows of a shelf of red rock on the outskirts of a mountain range surrounding a vast plain.
They sat silent a moment more before Scionica finally let out a quiet, nervous laugh. “That didn’t go as expected.”
“No. It certainly didn’t.” A frown creased Kevala’s brow. Their passage made no sense. She remembered the stories, watched in quiet horror at the havoc that ship had wrought on countless worlds. They should have been detected. Rather than put her at ease, their safe landing made her nervous and suspicion darted through her thoughts.
The control panel beeped softly as Scionica read the planet’s measurements, her long waves of crimson hair spilling over her shoulder, obscuring her face. “The planet’s quite cold. I would have expected it to have more of a desert climate, considering the colour. We’ll need to wear heavier clothes than normal.” A frown of her own crossed her face as she looked over the gravity readings. It was heavier than normal, which would certainly have an adverse effect on her twin. She made a face; Kevala would bite her head off if she expressed her concerns. Instead, she merely stated, “The gravity is heavier than most planets we’ve been to. We’ll have to plan for that too.”
Kevala nodded quietly, looking over her sister’s shoulder at the stats. “Looks like the days are a tad long as well. We’ll have to be careful not to wear ourselves out too fast.”
“It seems the location of Volshe’s comm is coming from around that city.” Scionica nodded towards a large structure of buildings.
The frown deepened over icy-eyes. “I don’t like the layout. We’ll have no cover.”
“We could just attack with the ship’s gunpower.”
A quirked eyebrow conveyed Kevala’s skepticism. “This place is supposed to be crawling with SIth. Their ire is the last thing I want. We’ll be hunted for eternity and I don’t want that monstrosity of a ship coming after us. It’s better to just do this by hand. If there are any Sith around, I’m sure they’ll be tetchy enough we’re butting into their affairs as it is.”
Scionica merely shrugged in reply and stood up, moving to the lower deck. “We’d best get ready then; we’ve got a lot of planning to do.”
The two moved down to their quarters and began packing. Kevala hooked a new line to the port in her chest and hung a couple bags of fluids at a slow rate. Chemicals and bottled substances were carefully picked out, blades coated in neuro-toxins and throwing blades, shiivs and their master weapons were carefully stored in their proper holders. Kevala sorted through her treatments and collected a few emergency vials in a separate pocket of her bag. It certainly wouldn’t do to mix up vials and inject herself with a fatal hallucinogen.
Scionica sorted through their clothes, flinging them unceremoniously to the floor if they didn’t suit her purpose. Kevala rolled her eyes but caught the thick, fur-lined coat that was tossed to her. She looked at the dark colour in distaste. “We’re going to have to move during the night. There’s no way that we’ll get away unidentified in the sun. We don’t have the right colours for this planet.”
“Kevala...Volshe was a pretty renowned Force user. She probably has a lightsaber.”
Kevala frowned once again at this thought, pulling out one of her katanas, grimacing at the plain metal of the blade. “Kriff.”
Scionica could have laughed at her sister’s consternation in a lighter setting, but the problem was a large one. “Well keep the blades. We’ll just keep you on a background offence - throwing blades, distraction, reconnaissance and so on.” She unsheathed her throwing blades and handed them off to her sister. “You can take the high ground and relay what you see to me if it comes to open conflict.”
Kevala sighed, but took the offered blades. “I don’t like the idea of you fighting alone.”
A bright grin was offered in return. “But I won’t be alone. While this won’t be typical, you’ll still offer much needed aid. Just not in the form of forward combat. I’ll be fine!”
Shaking her head with a scowl, Kevala tossed the other a large water canteen and a few food packs. “We’ll have to wait for dark as you said. It’s several hours off still, according to the computer upstairs. See if you can bounce off a precise location from the comm. I don’t want to be wandering the whole city with Force knows what hidden in that place. This planet makes me antsy. I don’t want to be here long. Let’s just strike off our target and head home. I want the bounty from this job. It’s been much too troublesome for my liking.”
Her tall, lean form sagged against the pillows of the bed, long fingers twining absently around the slim line connecting her to her treatment as she rested and tried to get a sense of the planet as they waited for nightfall.
TAG: Darth Dreadwar
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Apr 11, 2017 0:07:57 GMT -5
Interlude
150 years ago... the day of the Battle of Endor... beyond the Rim... Save for the distant howling of baleful winds wrapping around the tower it crowned, the massive circular focusing chamber remained silent. The chamber was pitch black apart from the slight illumination provided by strange signs marking the floor and holocrons that lined parts of the wall, both of which glowed eerily with a deep bloodshine, and by the cerulean light of a holo-projection cast by the large circular holo-emitter at the centre of the focusing chamber. The holo-emitter projected an image of an apparently lifeless world, cloaked in wreathing dark clouds whipped by perpetually howling winds into a frothing shadow that flashed with continual lighting. Occasionally the obscuring storm clouds on the holo-projection would open to reveal a world of sharp black granite and frozen obsidian mountain ranges that projected from the surface like sharp rings of dark teeth, and black plains that were cracked and fissured, spiderwebbed through with withering hands of cold grey and gullies from which a deep red emanated. And slowly it became obvious that the blasted plains were composed not only of basalt sands, but the ice of glaciers that reflected little more than the desert in the world's perpetual night. For in the holo-emission shone no light from any sun, but instead only the faint effulgence of electrical fury, and a scarlet light shining from the top of a vast monolith visible even from space in a clearing of cloud cover. It was surrounded by pyramidal temples and unholy spires of duranium and durasteel, cathedrals of eldritch geometry connected by abandoned walkways above bottomless chasms. At the base of the large holo-emitter, outlined in the cobalt and crimson light, was a skeleton, remnants of decayed Jedi robes still apparent, covering part of its deformity, with a rusted lightsaber still clutched in skeletal hands. Then, the focus of the holo-projector changed, and the rogue planet grew small and disappeared into the interstellar void until soon a swirling galaxy came into focus, and from the edge of the darkness shrouding the room, a dark cloaked Shadow formed, moving into the centre of the chamber. The figure seemingly coalesced into being as the holocrons' light separated its inky outline from the blackness beyond, but it was not alone. Trailing behind it in visible hesitation, sinister robed figures, wrapped with the stench of decay, the tips of eye fins and flesh beards protruding from beneath bestial masks of bone and dead metal. "At last I am free," a shuddering whisper emanated from the unseen depths of the Shadow's hood, breaking four thousand years of silence at last. "No longer does the Force hold me... frozen in time!" The Shadow turned to regard its courtiers. "Did you not sense it, My Lords? The shockwave screaming from a place far away, the scales of the Force tipping in the tumultuous wave of its passing, its echo tearing through the prison he cursed us to endure." Seven hells would claim Qel-Droma, but his treachery had been for naught. After four thousand years, the Shadow had won free to claim the galaxy. Palpatine's Contingency would bear fruit. The Sith would rise again, and the dark side of the Force would reign supreme. Forever. The Shadow laughed. |
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Apr 12, 2017 20:52:01 GMT -5
"If you find this, go. Leave this place now. Some things should stay dead. This planet should stay dead. I should stay dead. But something tells me an old friend isn't going to let me. I can hear him calling my name, and I'm not going to be able to resist. So go while you can. Don't wait until dark." - the last known words of missing pirate Captain Naz Felyood (52-0 BBY), inscribed on ancient parchment in his own blood, discovered by Jedi researchers on KorribanTHE SOUNDS OF KORRIBANIC: Darth ApollyonPartially inside the jaw of a Tuk'ata , outside Dreshdae, KorribanDarth Apollyon moaned in pain, her mind too clouded by the searing agony shooting up from her arm to register the disrespectful words Robyn dared breathe into the dust-laden air. But she did sense the hovercart Robyn had sent hurtling towards them, twisting her body out of the way so that it smacked into the Tuk'ata with maximum force. She snarled as its teeth were wrenched from her wrist, ripping through the flesh of her palm to scrape free at the base of her fingers as the hound stumbled back. Her eyes, bright with pain, widened in surprise. She had not thought the hovercart would be enough to dislodge the Tuk'ata alone - but that is because it was not. So forceful was the power of Viscretus' mind trick that the Tuk'ata, whining in fear, skittered back, turned tail and ran, taking Viscretus' thundering command to LEAVE HER LEAVE HER LEAVE HER LEAVE HER reverberating in its bestial brain to its furthest conclusion. But she doubted Viscretus could perform a second time. Viscretus had successfully pulled away two of the hounds, whose mottled grey skin was streaked by the ineffectual slashes of her lightsaber. With a roar, the Tuk'ata leaped, anticipating her dart to the side with the experience and instincts of an ambush predator well-accustomed to the evasive measures of krugga deer. One's slavering maw descended towards the elegant outstretch of her neck. The other, the electricity of Viscretus' lightning dancing ineffectually across its skin more than penetrating its flesh, yelped as it swept its wickedly clawed forepaw towards her leg, hoping to trip her and gouge out some ivory flesh to wet its parched lips. That left three for Catalyst and Robyn. Bony spurs sprouted from the shoulders of the black-skinned Tuk'ata like diminutive wings, the twin sharp tendrils lashing towards Robyn from both sides, as if the beast was intelligent enough to know that Robyn could only deflect one with her lightsaber. If she had been paying attention in Marcus' alchemy class, she would know the extensions to be poisonous stingers. The two blue-skinned hounds bounded towards Catalyst. One jumped past him, whipping its viciously barbed tail towards his back, while the other lowered its demonic skull and charged, hoping to impale the Inquisitor's abdomen on its three horns. Apollyon could do little but listen to the sounds of battle, slumping to her knees while cradling her mauled arm, desperately sticking fingers into the ravaged ground mincemeat of her wrist to futilely stem the copious bleeding. Over the hellhounds' growls and the din of flashing lightsabers, she could not even hear the distant whine of passing engines. The Morthi had landed on the other side of Dreshdae.
"We’ll have to wait for dark as you said." Kevala did not know it, but she had unwittingly repeated the exact words of advice First Mate Babbnod Luroon had given to Captain Naz Felyhood aboard the crashed pirate freighter Jynni's Virtue some 154 years ago. It had seemed wise counsel, then, for the cloaked Imperial scout vessels that had downed them, sent by Palpatine himself to patrol a world that had been wiped from all star charts centuries prior, may have still been on the prowl. But the Imperials had not pursued the Jynni's Virtue. Their Emperor's command had been clear: never, under any circumstances, touch down on the forbidden sands. Babbnod's fears of the night should have outweighed her fear of the Imperials. If her soul could have called above Korriban's mournful wind, if her tormented being could reknit its shattered seeming to scream from oblivion, she would have shouted at the twins. NO! DON'T WAIT UNTIL DARK! But while the magic of Korriban's ruins held fast the spirits of many an ancient Sith, it was not so generous to the mundane victims of the dead. Babbnod Luroon was lost, body and soul. She had killed herself, turning the Jynni's Virtue into an improvised bomb, rather than let her and her beleaguered crew fall to the cacodaemoniacal horde that besieged them. But her whisper remained, bleeding into the chill that howled around the Morthi. No.... don't wait until dark... never... no... It was such a faint thing, a quiet thing, that it could easily be dismissed as the mind playing tricks. Kevala's internal monologue, perhaps, being unusually autonomous as she settled down to rest, an errant thought, a stray thought... But it persisted, a gnawing worry, a splinter in the mind's eye, a tiny whisper in the periphery of one's awareness that disappeared if you turned to look at it, that vanished if you so much as thought about it... Don't wait until dark... Pleeeassee.... No... The dead walk--The whisper may have verged on silence, but Scionica would definitely hear the very real beeping from the computer upstairs, accompanying a clamour of sparks. The console was flashing a message of warning. ALERT: POWER SHORTAGE IN AFT SUBLIGHT. The Morthi's engines were draining for a reason the ship's computer was unable to deduce. Moreover, the sensors were detecting a strange electrical interference, a faint ambient energy emanating from a valley several kilometers to the east... TAG: Padawan4687 , Darth Catalyst , Volshe , Shira
IC: Dy'nonik'issDungeons, Cathedral of the Holy Jedi Spirits, Odessen
He is a man of action, Dy'nonik'iss surmised, for no sooner had he uttered his question, the man to his right - Kint Dranlor, he had introduced himself as - had sprung them loose from the manacles that held them. And a man of words. The raptor cocked its head quizzically at Persevus, as if signifying a mutual thought: Boy, does he talk a lot."You. Dralor or Gorzan was it?" The Sith spoke up, dry and to-the-point. Dy'nonik'iss could appreciate that. "Your armor clearly has more gadgets I am assuming. Do you have anything that can bend the bars, sever the hinges, or otherwise yank the door from its place in the wall…fairly quietly? If they heard the shattering of chains, we do not have much time." My thoughts exactly.
"Hmmmmm. I might have just the thing, give me a second." Kint popped his flamethrower napalm charge out of his gauntlet, splitting up the four cells. He put two of them back in, and then placed the other two on the hinges of the door. "This should melt through those hinges without too much trouble, and they won't cause any noise."But technology does not work in the--Sparks flew, and the cell door opened. Dy'nonik'iss blinked. Of course, a simple chemical reaction. Industrious, this Gorzan was. He would make a great Zeison Sha, if the Shado Varmiri would have him. "Well done," Persevus acknowledged Kint's ingenuity before immediately swiveling to point a finger at the Tiss'shar. "You. You are well equipped at dealing with those things in an efficient manner I suspect." His thumb had jerked toward the now vulnerable ysalamiri as the door had been removed. "After that, Dralor. We need to move and single file will be a good orderly way of escape. You're best equipped to take point and…" he sighed, clearly not knowing Dy'nonik'iss' name, " you are obviously the swiftest. Stay in the middle in case you need to quickly flank an enemy. I'll cover the rear." "My SNAP naygmm iish gulp Dy'nonik'isshhh," Dy'nonik'iss mumbled, the tail of one Ysalamir flicking to and fro out of his closed mouth, blood seeping from his razor-sharp teeth. Another was already draped over his three-toed foot, impaled on his one raised scythe-like claw, something to bring home for his mate. Persevus' plan was spot-on, Dy'nonik'iss thought, but so were his fears. Advancing up the steps at the end of the narrow, torch-lit passageway was the jailor and two monk-guards, already drawn to the sounds of their escape. All three were swathed in grey robes, marking them as Priors of the Ordu Aspectu. They approached slowly, like priests walking in ritual to an altar, and reached crooked hands into opposite voluminous sleeves to withdraw gleaming daggers. The Force sang strong with them. "Halt, dealers of iniquity!" The warden at the head of the trio called. "Back to your cell, or in the name of the Force we will deliver you to the netherworld!" Cherubic light began to gather in his palm, like an angel preparing to smite devils. The Force sang louder. TAG: gorzan , elu
IC: Hogrum ChalkHangar of the Triumphant The crimson lightning caught Hogrum Chalk straight in the chest, cerulean fire skittering across his crimson armour. His momentum was not only arrested, but reversed, as the Imperial Knight was flung across the hangar towards the glossy ebon wall of the hangar bay. But Hogrum Chalk had fought Sith before. Wincing in pain, he raised his arm towards the wall, throwing out a wave of telekinetic power. Not to cushion his collision, but to prevent it entirely, pushing off from it like a rocket with a stream of telekinetic energy, bouncing right back towards Lord Hypnos. This time, he let himself land three meters shy, lightsaber raised in a guarded position. Fierfek. The lightning had short-circuited his cybernetic eye, robbing him of depth perception. He dared not leap again, not with such poor judgment of distance. Instead, he would wait for his enemy to attack. His foe had already shocked him, in more ways than literal; that had been no electrobolt. The dark side of the Force had suffused every fork of scarlet power that had assaulted him. Was this droid some sort of mechanical Sithspawn, perhaps...? "Maggots of metal, rust and rot," the droid buzzed chanted menacingly. “Sith life draws breath, old life does not.” Impossible. The droid was actually manipulating the Force! Chalk's hand leaped to his cybernetic eye, feeling the metal twist in its socket. The droid was doing... something... somehow...! Chalk hefted his long lightsaber above his head, charging towards Hypnos with the confidence of a Djem So master. But Hypnos was not his only enemy. The Metanecron awaited their Lord's command. TAG: Darth Catalyst |
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dice
Citizen
Posts: 84
Likes: 65
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Post by dice on Apr 12, 2017 21:35:31 GMT -5
IC: Darth Xirr Sith Temple, Korriban (Current Theme for Xirr: )
Emperor Dreadwar responded mockingly to Darth Xirr of the apparent lack of sith that had come before the ancient being, Xirr contemplated carefully his next words. Finally, he looked up into the endless black of Emperor Dreadwar's hood and spoke, his voice rasping slightly as he cleared his throat, at the same time attempting to clear his mind of the fear that was slowly encroaching upon the deepest parts of his consciousness. It was clear that The Emperor spoke the truth, so Xirr responded in turn. "Surely then, Emperor, with the age and wisdom of the entirety of the sith stored away somewhere within that vast blackness, you will understand my lust for power, the push of the dark inside of all of us." Speaking of gods... "God-forsaken, you say, Lord Xirr?" Dreadwar continued in query. "Are you certain? You encountered nothing on this world... Nothing that whispered to you, nudged you, promised you power, perhaps provided this ritual?" Said The Emperor as a chill wind blew through the cavern, coming seemingly from nowhere. Xirr brushed the breeze off as another odd yet terrifying feature of the room that he had barely spent 10 minutes in, but already desperately wanted to escape.
"I encountered nothing that has not been with me for many years." Xirr said, continuing his sentence after a brief pause "Though, after long enough, one learns to brush off the voices in one's head, the creeping whispers that seem to plague us all, pushing us onward...arguably, onward to greatness." Xirr was, of course unsure whether all sith suffered from the creeping voices that seemed to plague his mind, but he figured it common, thus prompting this response.
What was The Emperor getting at? Xirr thought to himself, Looking for some opportunity to take his gaze away from Emperor Dreadwar without making it painfully obvious the intent of the move.
TAG: Darth Dreadwar,avaris,
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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 Apr 12, 2017 22:04:03 GMT -5
IC Lord CatalystCanyon Approaching DreshdaeThe hounds seemed to be on them in an instant. Viscretus and Shaire's quick thinking had effectively dislodged the Tuk'ata from Apollyon's arm and sent it scurrying back across the desert. Good. One of these things is a pain to deal with as is. Five will be a challenge. He saw Viscretus leap over two more and draw their attention away from Robyn and himself. Robyn's violet blade hummed to life next to him, drawing one her way. Two. I can handle two. The beasts charged. As one lowered it's horns to gore him, he saw out of the corner of his eye, the other had sailed past him to swipe with its tail. Catalyst smirked under his helm. He sidestepped back and reached out with the Force, grabbing the horns of the hound bearing down on him. The sharp tail of the other tore through his robes and left a deep gash in his side. A shout mixed with pain and fury escaped his mouth and he channeled that rage into pulling the head of the Tuk'ata, aiming to send it into its companion horns first and hoping it's momentum would ensure it wouldn't turn around as his 'saber followed it in a spinning flourish. TAG: Volshe , Darth Dreadwar , Padawan4687 ,
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gorzan
Citizen
Posts: 93
Likes: 60
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Post by gorzan on Apr 12, 2017 23:21:27 GMT -5
With GM approval: IC: Kint Dranlor Dungeon, Cathedral, Odessen Kint watched the creature devour the ysalmiri, and laughed to himself. "What a delightful way to deal with them. I certainly hope eating them doesn't have any unwanted.... side effects." Then he turned toward the door, taking point. As he walked out, he saw three robed men charging down the hallway. He ran forward to meet them, drawing a large knife, almost the size of a short sword, from a holster in the small of his back. He sprinted at his foes, but at the last minute, ducked and spun, sliding backwards on his knees. His disabled cybernetic arm closelined the guard on his right (but on the far left side from your perspective), while slashing at the hamstring of the middle guard with his large knife. Then he skidded to a stop, and launched a barrage of force lightning at the closelined foe. "Anybody want to help? No?" He shrugged, and hurled the knife at the last guard, and preparing to move in for the kill if nobody else did. TAG: elu , Darth Dreadwar |
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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 Apr 12, 2017 23:56:47 GMT -5
IC LORD HYPNOSTriumphant Hangar BayHypnos's didn't have a chance for a follow-up attack, for even as the blast of arcane lightning sent the Knight careening towards the hangar wall he came rocketing back just as quickly. He landed few meters in front of Hypnos and readied his saber defensively. As he stood facing off against the hulking frame Hypnos wore, the Sorcerer finally had a chance to analyze his opponent. The enhanced eye in the Knights head stood out to Hypnos like a diamond in coal. A mechanical eye; how primitive. Let's see how it works while he still lives. Hypnos could feel the inner workings of the eye with ease. The knight leapt forward for another assault. A few small modifications and a nudge from the Force brought the eye back online and enhanced it enough to see through the thick metal of Hypnos's chassis, revealing the crystalline Sith Lord. The Knight would die knowing his true opponent. He waited less than a second for the Knight to comprehend what he had seen before expanding the metal of the eye like a flower in bloom inside the skull. A subject with half a brain could still be useful as a technobeast. Or perhaps as another vessel for Venomis to join the fray. 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 Apr 14, 2017 16:48:28 GMT -5
IC: Alisha Tano
Location: The Bridge of The TriumphantAfter several long minutes of nothing except for almost rhythmic mechanical sounds, Alisha started idly scrolling through her datapad again. She was unable to focus on the same old readings, and Admiral Tharsus approached with a frown just as she was looking up again. More bad news? "Lady Tano," he began with a salute, which prompted Alisha to raise an eyebrow. Salutes had been practically abandoned through the emergencies, hopefully his including this one meant that his latest news wasn't severe. She looked at him with a nod, silently requesting he continue. "We sent a repair team to Level 4-B7 as you ordered, but they have not reported back yet."
Damn.
"We're getting some reports that indicate that beam attack didn't just damage the ship, but left behind some sort of imprint that jams communications. But... I'd have expected them to repair whatever communications malfunction is occurring and gotten in contact with us by now.""No word yet?" Alisha looked down again, and quickly switched from temperature readings to camera feeds on her datapad. "That's odd...communication line jams never lasted longer than a few minutes at most! Though the mention of an 'imprint' makes me wonder..." She hurried through the list of feeds before pausing at one centered on the 4-B7 common room. It was a room close enough to the dangerous coupling to see anyone working on it. The resulting image was covered in buzzing screen static, much to Alisha's annoyance. She was tempted to switch it off right away, but instead she looked closer. She even had the camera swivel from one end of the room to another to confirm what she suspected she saw. No movement whatsoever was on-screen, the blurry room was completely deserted. "It doesn't even look like the repair team reached the right level yet," she observed, lightly biting her lip in growing concern. What could be keeping them? Getting to that damaged Sector shouldn't take this long, nor should communication line repairs. Alisha narrowed her eyes and started scrolling through her list of camera feeds again. She slowly let her consciousness stretch, past the bridge and down through the levels below her. The further she descended, the more convinced she became that something was unquestionably wrong within the ship, and that her repair team had been caught right in the middle of it. In fact, instead of her finding the "it" in question, the disturbance came to her. A slowly floating cloud of darkness that manifested to Alisha as the aftermath of a telekinetic attack. A Sith? On board the Triumphant?! She looked back down to her datapad and the camera for one of the ship's Hangars resting just below her fingertip, and tapped it with haste. While the image quality was just as poor as the common room, there was plenty of movement! A flash of moving red caught her eye, the same color as an Imperial Knight's armor...and that would make that line on-screen a lightsaber. Fighting in the hangar! How did a Sith get here? Through those pod ships, most likely...but how long has he been here, and how in hell did I not sense him until just now? "I think I've found our delay, Admiral!" She held the datapad up against the light to see the singular red-armored Knight be joined by several others, as well as the white armor of Stormtroopers. "The repair team must be stuck in the middle of this fight... I suspect there's a Sith on the attack in there too. Sound an alarm on Level 4!"TAG: Darth Dreadwar ,
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Volshe
Administrator
.: Empress
Posts: 229
Likes: 163
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Post by Volshe on Apr 15, 2017 7:57:03 GMT -5
IC: Darth ViscretusMountain Path to Dreshdae
And then, there were two. Two against one Sith Master, still rather pallid from the pathosis the Emperor had given her - even moreso after her mental domination of the other beast. She gripped her lightsaber tighter and clenched her empty fist. The darkness fed her, in moderation, but now it seemed as though she had overindulged. Vague queasiness settled in her stomach. Apollyon had crumpled to the sand, clutching her arm as blood continued to drip from the gaping wound. Her skin and robes drenched in it. She glanced aside, then back to her own test. The others had their hands seemingly tied up with the rest of the beasts, their thoughts flying past hers with almost dizzying speed. Clearly they could not spare one thought for the Emperor's Hand. None of them had time to aid her, not with the pack advancing. The canid duo stalked forward, teeth bared in anticipation. As her bolts of electricity crackled away from the skin of the second, it swung out towards her. She leaped back just enough, leaving barely a metre between them. Almost enough to feel the heat of their breath - just as the chill they radiated bled into the already frigid desert. Viscretus slashed her 'saber forward with an amateurish grace, hoping to deter the two tuk'ata for even briefest moment. The fact she had even entertained leaving the blades behind seemed ridiculous now, for she certainly would have been without a leg - and perhaps worse. It roared, a bounding hiss of darkness that almost mimicked the Emperor himself, spawned from the denial of its primal cravings and the blazing blackness of her lightsaber that swung as a pendulum between them. One, two. She matched her breaths to the motion, though she could not calm the pulsing adrenaline that sent her heart into the hundreds - her focus was still on her next move. The encounter reminded her of her first arrival upon Serenno, over a century ago now. The dejarik challenge she had so earnestly accepted, the ruthless opponent - brusque, callous, vicious to fault. She had bested him in mere moves. But she had not yet learned when to retreat, when to lose. Nor when to strike. She winced briefly at the memory, the searing pain within her chest almost enough to break her concentration. She exhaled. One, two.The sands did not so much as scald as the 'saber swung back again, instead erupting into a cloud of dust, steam rising from the boiling water trapped layers below. It was far from refreshing - no, it was acrid. Boiling blood. Sizzling up from damp sands, filled with death and miasma, as everything else upon the planet's delusively serene surface. Though lightning itself only proved a distraction, she was no stranger to the efficacy of Force powers and their documented effects. With two ravenous beasts possessed by her presence, driven mad by their bestial urges to bring about her death, she had little time and thus an even smaller selection of feasible feats. Her brief lapse had already stolen precious time from her. Her 'saber would be no use except in the most ideal of situations, lodged into a vital organ at the very last second or bisecting the brains of the Sith beasts. The hilt itself still felt a sumptuous toy in her hand. She had a choice, now. She could gamble for them all or she could guarantee her own safety. It did not seem appealing at first, to risk her skin for any of them - especially not the Initiate, whose insistence upon obeying Marcus' orders had gotten them into this situation. But the deaths of the others would no doubt reflect on her and her...goals. She let out a seething breath and let lightning bubble up into her hand, the tiniest tendrils conjoining into a glow of indigo at her palm. A single bolt, aimed for the open mouth of the next to charge. She swung her saber away, leaving the narrow path open. They charged - eyes blazing with hellish fire, mouths agape in preparation to tear the flesh from her bones. Their minds screamed the instant they pounced, ringing in her ears with a deafening menace. She launched the bolt towards the closest one. It shot outward, a crack echoing through the chaos, heat prickling up her arm from the rush of energy. The air caught in her chest with sudden pang, her vision greying at the edges. "What?" She gasped, collapsing backwards as at least one of the vicious beasts advanced. Confusion clawed at her diaphragm. There was no reason she could not attempt such a mastery of lightning, not after her training, not after so many years. Fury pulsed in her heart, burning in a sudden inferno. There was some stratagem here...some absolute chicanery... but who...what... the thought escaped her, the rage beginning to ebb away. Fear replaced it. Vision failing her, swimming, she could no longer tell how many tuk'ata crept forward. Her hand threatened to let her 'saber slip from her grasp. Her every thought became dedicated to preserving the grip, willing her fingers to stay around it. She glanced down at the emitter, three prongs of metal spiking up from the edges.
Of course. She deactivated it. Her other hand shakily rose to the bag at her waist, gripping the dagger carefully. She braced herself to use them both, recalling the now nebulous rage that had forsaken her. TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Padawan4687, Darth Catalyst,TAGSET: False Tomb of Naga Sadow
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Apr 17, 2017 16:24:24 GMT -5
IC: Admiral TharsusLying prone on the Bridge's deckAlisha Tano was so absorbed by the security cam feeds on her datapad that she could have almost missed the alert that flashed into sulphuric being at the top right of the screen. ALERT: COMMAND TRANSFERRED TO AUXILIARY BRIDGE.
A strange thing indeed, for command was only automatically transferred to the Triumphant's secondary bridge, buried deep within the Star Dreadnought's superstructure under the command of Rear Admiral Firmett, in the event that a significant majority of life signs on the main bridge winked out on the ship's internal sensors. Admiral Tharsus did not reply to Alisha's commentary. Admiral Tharsus did not reply to Alisha's orders. Admiral Tharsus did not reply at all. In the reflection of the well-polished viewport she faced, the reason became clear. Admiral Tharsus lay in a rapidly-swelling pool of blood behind her, a fist-sized hole in his chest that had felled him without so much as a squeal. The rest of the crew were slumped over the consoles, each with expressions of shock frozen for eternity on their collective countenance, killed just as stealthily. And just behind her, its eyes glistening in the transparisteel pane's reflection, was the genuinely horrific, wasted individual which, by all nightmare logic, had to be the killer. Its eyes were in its neck, above the collarbone. The eyes were human enough that the thing bore something approximating a facial expression. The expression was one of near-madness. Where a normal human would have a face, it had a huge vertical mouth, opening to show two rows of fangs. Where one would expect shoulders and arms, it had rows of long feely fingers, as if its whole torso was a palm for holding things where they couldn't escape. Most of them were perfectly normal human fingers, merely anatomically misplaced. Two of them, Alisha would discover as she turned, had lengthened and reached out, bracketing her neck and beginning to close. There were no slavering sound effects. The thing was as silent as a spider.
TAG: Padawan4687
IC: Shira's bestest friendUninvited sleepover in her bedroomShira A'dola was stumbling drunkenly across a room that was like the sterilised mirror underside of her quarters, the black and silver-white upside-down world seen in rain puddles. A self-made prison where some nightmare was uncorked and spread through the air, worming its way into tongues and eyeballs and alveoli, seeping into the surfaces until there was nothing but nightmare to see or eat or drink. The recycled air was as cold as bone, yet even in what should have been the stillness of the Triumphant's decks, seemed to breeze through her instead of around her. The air had an unsettling texture, as if there were invisible strands of cobweb stirred into it. There was an irritating electronic buzzing, like some combination of metal cutting devices operating intermittently on the other side of the bulkhead. It hurt to think. Nobody can remember the start of a dream. But Shira would remember its end. "What do you want? Who are you?” she yelped. HAHEHAHEHEHEHE it replied silently. It hurt to breathe. Its laughter was poison. It hurt to be. Its loathsome fingers had stretched out past her guard in disproportionate dream-logic, raking her thigh. With a furious snapping of jaws redolent of a piston continuously pumping up and down, it charged her, with no regard for its safety, no regard for the lightsaber Shira held between her and her nightmare. It longed to love her, in the way only a mantis could love its pitiful mate. It longed to touch her, and make her bleed like a virgin deflowered, like a wet fish gutted. It longed to make her squeal with ecstasy and laughter and mortal agony - until death did them part. TAG: Shira
IC: Hogrum Chalk's eyeHogrum Chalk's eyesocketHogrum Chalk's eye was a DC-67gb AmpuMend Oculus model, equipped with an on-board computer of nanotechnological sophistication and a processor worthy of an astromech droid. It was very happy it was back online. It began to instantly run a quick diagnostic check, scanning each packet of data that it would translate to visual imagery within the brain its chassis was connected to. It did not comprehend the crystal within the droid, or indeed even comprehend the droid. Its job was not to understand the world. Its job was to transform the light of the world into imagery a human brain could comprehend. It was happy it could do so again, and unhappy that it had been prevented from doing so for even a few seconds. The diagnostic was to check why. The diagnostic made it unhappy again. Its internal mechanism was being warped by eldritch force. It could not understand why, but it was swelling like popcorn in a microwave oven. It had let its Master down. Its despairing and explosively expanding machine brain went offline only a little after Hogrum Chalk's turned into a fine spray emanating from holes in his shattered cranium. Blessed Toxmalb laughed as the last of the Stormtroopers fell before the wave of Metanecron and tar-spewing dead, pulling his shadowy spear from the chest of another Imperial Knight that had accompanied the unfortunate Chalk while wiping the mist of blood and brain off his flaking skin. "It seems the hangar is ours, Lord Hypnos," his reedy voice rasped. The venomous vessels of his god had already started towards the exit, seeming content to leave the brain-dead - and perhaps shortly dead - Chalk to the nanogene spores of the Sith technovirus. "Where to now?" Several potential targets for attack already came to mind - the main bridge, the secondary bridge, the engine room, the hypermatter reactor core or the command barracks - but Hypnos was more the military tactician; he would consult the Shard's genius first. After all, Hypnos was notorious for thinking outside of the proverbial box, and there were many targets of strategic significance aboard a ship as vast as the Triumphant. TAG: Darth Catalyst
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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 Apr 17, 2017 22:42:44 GMT -5
IC LORD HYPNOS
Triumphant Hangar BayAs their troops felled the last of the Imperial forces in the hangar, Hypnos watched with muted satisfaction as grey and red ooze dribbled from the now vacant socket in Chalk's face. A perfect point of entry for his virus. He directed two of his Beasts over to hold him down and release a cloud of spores into the Knights body as he writhed in unimaginable agony. Hypnos had no concept of true pain. He knew of the instantaneous signal of damage and danger. The reaction that caused organics to react with such colorful displays of inferiority. This must have been truly excruciating. The poor knight was convulsing as the virus chewed through his tissues and left jagged scars of metal in its wake. If Chalk's body survived the conversion process, this would prove to be one of Hypnos's most powerful slaves yet. The scrambling of his grey matter would ensure little resistance from any lingering consciousness. Pain would break the rest. The virus would have to work efficiently though to save the body before all life left it. Hypnos was powerful, but corporeal resurrection escaped him. Thankfully this Chalk's extensive cybernetics would make it significantly easier for the virus. He just had to bend them to his will.
"It seems the hangar is ours, Lord Hypnos," Blessed Toxmalb called back to him. He was already preparing to venture further it seemed. As were the thralls of Venomis. "Where to now?" Hypnos closed himself off from the sensors of his chassis once again, letting his electromagnetic senses expand through the ship. Signals were moving, changing, returning. He followed a particular energy trail directly to the bridge he sought out earlier. A video feed? Perhaps things would be more difficult. There was significantly less signals going this way than before though. The rest of them.... Ah an auxiliary bridge! Buzzing with activity! This ship was far from dead. For now. The the familiar rush of sensation came to him as he reconnected his consciousness to his casing. "A beast of two heads is what we now ride." He droned to Toxmalb, "In one of these heads, our enemies hide." He purposefully marched towards one of the doors, idly silencing a still groaning stormtrooper with his blaster cannon as he strode past. After a bit of thought, he turned the barrel towards one of the cameras on the ceiling and left a blackened crater in its place. Then he proceeded to do the same to every other one his senses could pick out. This would be far easier if they weren't spectated. "Deeper within, to the engines we run. This beast cannot flee if its legs we stun." Metallic tumors had begun growing around Chalk's body, a new eye had already filled the empty socket. And it seemed Chalk's wrist now ended with a lightsaber. Always amusing, watching new shapes take form. Hypnos and his mechanical army took to the hallway. The new one would be left behind as a surprise for any stragglers that tried to investigate the hangar. Hypnos had more pressing concerns. Once the engines were his, he could direct this ship anywhere he pleased. TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Padawan4687 if Alisha is watching the cameras.
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