dice
Citizen
Posts: 84 
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Post by dice on Jun 18, 2018 22:22:07 GMT -5
IC: Darth XirrApproaching the Sith Temple, Korriban As the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the mountain walls around them, the wind swept up, blowing their cloaks out behind them as they made their way out of the valley. The perilous journey back to the temple had only just begun. As the group passed the fallen tuk'ata from mere hours before, Xirr knelt down and opened the stomach of the one most intact. As the smell of rot hit Xirr's nostrils from the corpse of the tuk'ata he couldn't help but reflect upon how the beast had only been slain hours before. Hours that felt like months. He quickly packed away the dripping entrails of the slain beast in one of the several large belt pouches that hung at his waist and hurried to catch up to the rest of the group who were following in the ethereal footsteps of Emperor Dreadwar. Appoylon, Xirr noticed, was clearly becoming quickly more adept at light conversation "I'm afraid if Shaire took Neoplix's offer of a ride, I don't think her blood would be of much use to Xirr anymore!" She chimed in with a giggle. "I would rather not have to find another virgin amongst the thousands of students at the academy, So I'm afraid I'll have to keep the two apart, at least until I gather my... sample." Xirr responded in kind as they crested the pass that lead out of the valley. The grandiose shillouette of the Sith Academy loomed overhead, Emperor Dreadwar's own quarters towering over it all, shrouded in black clouds that every so often flashed with crimson lights that one could only assume came from somewhere within. Neoplix soared overhead now, screeching in his newly attained petrosaur form, making a landing somewhwhere in the ramparts of the academy above them. "However I don't believe any of us would have enjoyed that ride" He continued looking to the sky, the presence of his home mere meters away lightening his mood immesurably. "Ahh. Home sweet home." He muttered beneath the hearing of the others. How refreshing it was to see the sky again. TAG@dreadwar, Volshe, Shira, Darth Catalyst, Padawan4687, gorzan
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Post by Darth Voidwalker on Jun 18, 2018 22:23:38 GMT -5
IC: Voidwalker The Desert of Lost Souls, Korriban The Captain made his way to the speeder with a look of irritation across his face. It was a curious look to be sure. He’s getting ready to get his payment, what could be bothering him? Following suite Voidwalker made his way over to his own speeder and threw his leg across, mounting the speeder. Taking a look at the gauges on the console of the speeder he took but a moment to get use to the switches and controls. After flipping a few switches and the press of a button, he got the speeder to roar to life. Pulling back on the throttle to catch up to the Captain, Voidwalker could only assume that Karina and the newcomer were doing the same. Over the sounds of the wind and the roar of the engines, Voidwalker could barely make out the words of Captain Thilly. "UH, YOU'RE A SITH LORD AND YOU CAN JUST WALK INTO THE TEMPLE, BY THE SOUNDS OF IT, VOIDWALKER? LIKE, YOU CAN SAY WE'RE YOUR SLAVES OR SOMETHING?” “OF COURSE CAPTAIN!” Voidwalker shouted out of the wind and engines. “BESIDES I’LL DO SOME SWEET TALKING AND SEE IF I CAN’T GET SOME SORT OF COMPENSATION FOR THE SHIP. CAPTAIN, I’M GOING TO LET YOU TAKE THE LEAD, JUST IN CASE OUR NEW FRIEND HAS ANY TRICKS. SO WE’LL PUT THEM BETWEEN US, BETTER SAFE THAN TO BE MADE TO LOOK LIKE FOOLS.” And there’s no better fool than an old credit hungry pirate. If any sort of guards or resistance opens fire, he’ll be a necessary casualty. A means to an end.TAG: Darth Dreadwar kurtishenschel @lordjania |
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Post by Darth Voidwalker on Jun 18, 2018 23:21:19 GMT -5
IC: Srethros Outside the Dread Fortress, Oricon Srethros hated the thought of hiding in a cargo hold like some common thief, but he knew that he wouldn’thave been openly welcomed on this journey. Nonetheless there were talks of weapons of great power, and that power would be his. He craved it. The one referred to as Aranica knew not what he spoke of, but neither did Srethros, but he did know weapons. Deciding the time was right, Srethros made his way from his hiding place, lightsaber at his side and his senses on high alert, he would be prepared. Srethros had overcome so much in his life and being eaten wasn’t what he had planned for his life. Not today anyway. He made his way through the ship and down the ramp. Spotting the rest of the group, he approached from behind. Walking quietly but not intentionally. As he approached, he could over hear more of their conversation. These fools speak lightly, they have no pride in their words. They have no pride in themselves. These are not Sith!“You fools speak like Jedi. Worse than that, you rally behind an even more foolish one. He knows not what he speaks of. Or if he does, he doesn’t tell whole truths.” TAG: Darth Catalyst taciteoccultus darthvoxyn DarthVizuul |
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Post by Zhav'vorsa on Jun 19, 2018 0:20:27 GMT -5
IC: Warlord Zhav'vorsa Sith Cantina, KorribanThe cantina was dimly lit, flooded with strobing red lights and pounding bass lines. Being so accustomed to the noise of battle, the volume of the space didn’t bother him much. He paid little mind to those around him, the sea of bodies bumping, grinding, and rubbing on one another. It wasn’t all physical commotion, some patrons sat and drank leisurely in booths, while other stood at tables. He’d hardly noticed if Zul’tar or the woman, Bellorum, had followed him into the establishment. The Warlord drew attention. His sheer size made him standout, let alone the large great sword sheathed across his back. He could feel eyes upon him. The eyes of Sith Apprentices of all persuasions wandered over his nearly-bare chest and arms, covered in war paint and scars; the only modesty on his upper body offered by the straps that stretched over his pecs. The masses before him parted with ease, making it all the easier for him to get to the barkeeper and order a drink. An Aqualish bartender shouted over the music at Zhav’vorsa as the man stepped up to the bar, asking what he wanted. “ Beer.” He replied with a raised voice, nodding to a stash behind the barkeeper. The Aqualish turned back, wiping his hands on his canvas apron, and filled a chipped tankard with the dark foamy liquid. Zhav took it from the barkeeper before he could set it on the bar and drew from the tankard. He pulled his forearm up to clear away a frothy trail that was left in the facial hair on his upper lip after his drink and held the mug at his chest. He turned, looking over his shoulder, to see Zul’tar and Bellorum standing nearby. The woman had the axe, as he’d commanded. He smirked faintly, something the other two likely missed in the dim light. He couldn’t help but feel some measure of pride that the little witch had done as she was told. The Warlord’s attention was momentarily pulled away from Zul’tar and Bellorum as something much more appealing came his way. A female Twi’lek with crimson skin snaked her way through the crowd, directly to him. Like those on the stage, she was not clothed, completely nude save for a pair of glossy boots that extended just over her knees, and she looked to be comfortable in her own skin. Her tattooed red flesh contrasted with the darkness in a tantalizing way, and the way her body swayed through the crowd, floating like a phantom, graceful yet provocative, made it difficult for the man to ignore. He didn’t move from the bar, did not stir at the sight. The woman flitted closer, her lekku brushing her naked skin, until she reached him and slowly, hesitantly, placed her hand against his abdomen, just above his belt. Zhav’vorsa observed her through lowered lashes, his bearded chin tilted down to get a look at her. Once she saw not resistance from him, the woman did not hesitate to get closer, pressing her skin against his. She wrapped one of her legs against his, pressing her thigh against his sturdy frame. Her hand reached upward, toward his face, and her fingers slid down his cheek, beckoning him to lower himself that she could whisper to him. He arched a brow at the forward behavior of the exotic woman but allowed her the opportunity, bending forward so that she could reach him. “ How about some privacy,” she asked eagerly, her tone silky and inviting. She brushed her lips, then her tongue against his ear, her hands finding their way into the long ponytail of his hair. The tips of her breasts brushed against his body, and he could feel his own urges growing. The warmth of her skin was inviting. The naked flesh of another was something he hadn’t felt since he left Dathomir. Within the Clan, he had his pick of concubines, warriors and slaves alike. The women in the Clan would throw themselves at the Warlord, giving anything for a chance to be among “the chosen”, a favorite mate to him. The behavior of this alien woman was not unlike that of the women back home. The fact that she was exotic, a Twi’lek, was appealing to him; the race was not a common sight on his home world, and he found himself drawn to her foreign beauty. He stood up straight, breaking her hand out of his hair, and turned to face her. The Twi’lek didn’t miss a beat, letting her hand fall to his shoulder and down his bicep, scraping his skin lightly with her nails. His eyes fell to her body, studying her from the ground up. His amber eyes lingered at certain points, appreciating the aspects of her form, but eventually found her lavender eyes. The shade of her irises struck him, as those on stage and around the bar seemed to have yellow or blue irises. A small detail, but one he would be sure to remember. He peered over his shoulder once more, to Zul’tar and Bellorum, both of whom seemed to be avoiding any awkward staring. Though he’d rather busy himself with a romp into carnal pleasures, he knew he had a hunt to get on with. As eager as he may have been to ravage an exotic woman, he was as anxious to feed his bloodlust. “ Later.” He said to her simply, bringing the tankard to his lips once again. He took a long drink and reached down with his free hand, taking a handful of the woman’s ample backside. The Twi’lek inhaled sharply at the feeling of his hand grabbing at her and purred quietly for a moment. “ Find me ‘later’,” she replied breathlessly. She ran her tongue ran across her bottom lip and dragged her hands down his body one last time before pulling herself off him. The moment the Twi’lek swaggered away, Bellorum tapped Zhav’vorsa on the shoulder, presenting the axe to him. She mentioned finding a booth and motioned to one with some seats mostly empty, though it was inhabited by a creature, a species he was altogether unfamiliar with. Zhav’vorsa took the axe from Bellorum and weighed it in his free hand, turning it back and forth in his grip. The edges shimmered in the pulsing lights, sharp enough to cleave a man in two. He eyed Zul’tar, no doubt anxious for his weapon back, and nodded to him. “ This is a good axe!” He yelled, allowing his voice to carry over the music. “ Vo jil ha jin chiftik ven yer!!” He shouted to Zul’tar, telling him the axe was not fit for a cricket like him. A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth for just a moment before melting away completely. He sheathed Zul’tar's axe on his back with his great sword. His gaze pierced into the disgraced warrior as he did, a not-so-subtle message to the man. Once the axe was on his person, he moved to the booth that Bellorum had pointed out. The Warlord stepped forward first, shouldering his way through Bellorum, moving her to the side. He sized up the being in the booth, not quite a man but…not quite anything else. His eyes narrowed when the being spoke, requesting a drink to be allowed to sit with him. Zhav’vorsa huffed through his nostrils, amused, if only slightly, at the audacity on display. He curled his lip and put the tankard to his mouth once more, slurping down all but the foam of his beer. He slammed the tankard down on the table, in front of the being and nodded. “ On the house!” He said loudly, ensuring he would be heard over the music of the cantina. Once more, he used his forearm to brush the frothy remnants of his beer from his facial hair. It was a mystery to him why Bellorum pointed the booth out to begin with, just as it was a mystery who exactly this being was. He had a hunch, a sense even, that he’d picked up another paltry lifeform to drag with him on Dreadwar’s hunt… TAG: Darth Dreadwar darthkain7 @sinre
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Post by darthkain7 on Jun 19, 2018 9:53:57 GMT -5
IC: Zul'tarLocation: Sith Cantina, KorribanThe music playing within the cantina had first escaped the old man's notice. But once he began to listen, he could begin to feel the rhythmic beat vibrate into his very bones. The savage beating of the drums, the raging vocals almost screaming so that they could be heard over the instruments. It reminded Zul’tar of the hunts back on Dathomir, before his exile. How a ceremony would take place before every great hunt, including a similar beating of drums and an equally loud chant that wished good fortune to the hunters. A small part of Zul'tar wished he hadn't given that up. Life back then, while strenuous, was more fun than it had ever been. The community with the rest of his clan, the parties after celebrating victory. Why, Zul'tar remembered the greatest party he'd ever been to back in those days. It was a wedding, one of the younger members of the clan by the name of Gorron was marrying the daughter of a rival warlord, who had been killed by Gorron in honor of the Howling Blade Clan, during a battle only the week before the wedding. There was plenty of dancing, drinking, and screwing for everyone to enjoy. The music was good, too, come to think of it. But what drew everyone's attention, even Zhav'vorsa's more than likely, were the killings. After all, a wedding with no deaths in the Howling Blade Clan was considered a dull affair. Some drunk fool had pushed another man away from his woman, intending to rape her. The husband, rightly furious, drove his blade into the drunk man’s belly, then pulled down, slicing through the pelvis and dividing the offender’s testicles into two equal parts. Everyone, including Zul'tar, cheered at the sight, then went back to their festivities. There were three other deaths that night, though the details of each became more and more blurry as Zul'tar drank more and more spirits. Ah, those were the days. Zul'tar snapped back to reality when he heard the witch’s voice over the music. “ HERE'S THE AXE!” He spun around to see the Chiss woman holding his axe, and he noticed that she had to carry it with both hands.  The axe was of amazing craftsmanship, forged in flames as hot as that of a star, and inscribed with various runes that would make the axe impervious to most forms of damage, including lightsaber blades, among other abilities that the runes would grant. These runes glowed a bright vermilion, verging on crimson, drawing nearly as much attention as the warlord's presence did. This had been Zul'tar's weapon ever since he was a young man, and it had just as much legend surrounding it as he did. Hundreds had fallen to its edge, and it seemed that no one had been able to stop either it or the man who wielded it. At least, until the Sith came to Dathomir, with their superior technology and numbers. Zul'tar had killed nearly half a dozen of his captors before they succeeded, with that very axe. Zul’tar made note to ignore Zhav'vorsa's dealings with the Twi'lek, but as soon as the warlord took hold of his axe, he felt something stir within him. It churned and twisted, like a chained beast wanting to escape. It was Zul’tar’s pride, protesting as the warlord insulted Zul'tar once again, and then insulted him further by keeping the axe on his person. The pulsing lights made it nearly impossible to see Zul'tar’s nostrils flare with rage, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing that Zhav'vorsa was looking for any excuse to end his life. Begrudgingly, Zul'tar followed the warlord as they and Bellorum made their way over to the booth. Sitting in that booth was quite the oddity, but Zul'tar had become so accustomed to such peculiarity that he made no physical reaction to it. But from what Zul'tar could tell, the man was a Sith Lord, just like Bellorum. Great, another one.
TAGS: Darth Dreadwar , Lord Vassago , Shira TAGSET: Beast Hunt
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gorzan
Citizen
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Post by gorzan on Jun 19, 2018 14:04:55 GMT -5
Ic: Neoplix
Location: sith temple on korriban
Tags:
Neoplix landed on the parapets of the sith temple, roaring at the sky, opting for the dramatic entrance rather than a practical one. What better way to impress his former peers and masters?
Then, he hopped off the wall, smoothly gliding into the courtyard, landing and leaving raking gauges in the sand. Then, the dark swirling mist surrounded him once more, and when it receded, he was back in the form of a Gen-Dai. His armor glinted in the light, and his old armor, still sling over his shoulder, hung loose like a popped blister, with no body to fill it.
He strode confidently towards a pair of gaping servants nearby. Now, everything was different. When last he had been here, he was a skilled, but inexperienced acolyte, forced to lick the boots of nearly everyone in the temple. Now though... his powers stronger, his armory increased, and his confidence boosted, he had returned. He was unsurprised at their reaction. Even he would be agape at an entrance like that.
“The emperor is returning,” he said, “and his followers with him. Perhaps now, your allegiances will be solidified.” Then he was gone. He had many things on his agenda, first and foremost was dealing with the gear he had acquired in the tomb. As useful as his new armor was, the offensive capabilities of his old armor were extremely powerful. Now, it was time to combine them.
He made his way to the armory, opening the door and setting his old armor down, laying it out and rapidly disassembling it, having made it himself. Then, he began the long process of rearranging it around his newer, more malleable armor. Some parts needed welding, soldering, or bolting, but others could simply be sinched in place. He took the outer layer of his original armor, melting it down, and then painting it over as a coating on top of Xirr’s armor, both for color and protection.
He crafted a sheath for his new sword, as well as for his larrangs. His gauntlets had inset gaps for the rings, and the bicep had an insert for the translational tiara. The pendant of concentration he left on his chest, thus completing his assembly. He smiled, swooping his cloak over the top to finish it off. Now, it was time to have a chat with some of his more.... disagreeable peers.
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gorzan
Citizen
Posts: 93
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Post by gorzan on Jun 20, 2018 23:42:07 GMT -5
Ic: Kint dranlor Location: the control room of the space pyramid Kint nearly attacked when the beast lurched forward. So much for intelligent, he thought. But then, it’s new words caught his attention. Clearly, it was fighting its own instincts, and communicating somehow. he nodded, intent on following the creature and getting the hell off this cursed ship, and the nightmare that was slowly becoming his life. Then, the two other figures appeared at the computer. “Oh shit...” he sprinted towards the control panel, rapidly concealing his sabers within his cybernetic arm while drawing his pistols, trying to cut them off. He needed to deactivate the tractor beams now, and find the prisoner. they would have no clue who he was, and he wanted to keep it that way. a bounty hunter, that was all. he sent a telepathic message to both lemmy and the tarp. "Speak nothing of the mirror, or any of the artifacts we have acquired. We don't know why they are here, and they don't know that we have them." keeping his pistols drawn, he shouted, "Thank god, someone's here!" there was no way of knowing how the newcomers would react, but teleporting was often disorientating, and when one arrives in a ship in the middle of a group of grotesque black slime monsters, questions are rarely asked. He slid in next to the computer, and began rapidly examining the screen, hoping to work something out before this small moment of reprieve ended. he preferred human allies to hive minds, but it all depended on goals and endpoints. for now, he would play both sides, acting as a 'bounty hunter trapped on the ship,' and hopefully retaking Persevus and releasing the tractor beams. Tags: Darth Catalyst Darth Dreadwar |
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Darth Catalyst
Citizen
Dark Lord Immortalis & High Inquisitor
.: Chaos and Cunning
Handling the Hand
Posts: 248
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Post by Darth Catalyst on Jun 21, 2018 15:59:17 GMT -5
IC DARTH CATALYST
Valley of the Dark Lords, KorribanCatalyst snorted at Apollyon's bawdy response. Really he was quite proud that she was embracing the humor that flowed around her rather than fighting it off as she had done earlier. He could swear she was adapting her personality just to get along better with the rest of the group, but Catalyst wasn't about to complain. He caught the tail end of Robyn's reproachful glare and chuckled softly. Certainly she was one of the few who could stand to lighten up. Even his new apprentice had laughed at his little joke, even if it was at Neoplix's expense. Neoplix, it seemed, was not content with simply impersonating a Tuk'ata. After nobody accepted his offer for a ride to the temple, he again shape shifted into some kind of pterosaur. He took off through the air. Catalyst shook his head at the Gen'Dai-saurus. There was something to be said for versatility, but Neoplix took it to the ridiculous extreme with his many amulets granting him his new forms. Catalyst secretly wondered if while he occupied those forms, his natural Gen'Dai healing abilities would be stifled. He would have to consult Master Marcus for an experiment. He stopped with Xirr briefly as the armored Lord scavenged through the entrails of slain Tuk'ata they had left behind earlier that day. Catalyst made his way to the beast that he personally had slain and kebabed. He wrenched most of the creatures organs from its open stomach and telekinetically hoisted the beast behind him, intent on bringing it back to the temple. TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Volshe, Shira, dice, Padawan4687, gorzan
IC Lemmy and Hypnos Ninushodojinyaut control room Lemmy grimaced as the strange melting man lurched towards Kint and himself. Its vocabulary was refreshingly similar to the language he'd heard across various spaceports in the seedier parts of the galaxy. Lemmy fully understood its intent, much as he understood Kint's parlaying with the monster for their safety. It was strange, but sensible. Lemmy knew they were royally kriffed in this room, surrounded by the inky abominations unless some miracle happened to save them. Hypnos and Raspir appeared in the midst of an awkward silence, that only seemed to stretch longer with their arrival. Hypnos scanned the room. Indeed it was the central computer terminal of the Ninûshodojinyaut. It was far more populated than he had expected. The thralls of Venomis were certainly guaranteed but Hypnos could not recognize the two humanoid figures that were hurrying towards them. Hypnos scanned the both of them quickly. The larger one was less than remarkable, a Feeorin with a very large gun by the looks of it. The other intrigued Hypnos. A powerful, Forceful being fully encased in armor and wearing a blue cape of sorts that exerted its own notable pull in the Force. Its cybernetic arm illuminated itself to the Shard lord's electromagnetic senses. It had two pistols drawn and seemed to be grateful to see them. Hypnos doubted as much. He lazily probed the being's thoughts, though found powerful Force resistance. The Feeorin's thoughts, however, were less guarded. Speak nothing of the mirror, or any of the artifacts we have acquired. We don't know why they are here, and they don't know that we have them. Hypnos knew for a fact that they did not have the mirror, but now he knew that they knew of it. Perhaps it would be to their mutual benefits to assist each other. "We are enemies of the Lord of Rot," Hypnos addressed the two strangers almost too calmly. "It's fortunate we found you in this dangerous spot." He turned his attention back to the terminal, feeling through the inner workings with Mechu Deru. "We are here to disable the gravity wells. A bonus if we free you from this nightmarish hell." Lemmy looked at Kint cautiously. He wasn't sure what to think of these two. He kept his cannon trained on the amphibious looking one and hissed to Kint, "I don't like the looks of these two. Nobody just teleports around onto ships and offers to set you free." He glanced at his comrade quickly. "Ya think they're after you-know-who and you-know-what in the you-know-where?" TAG: Darth Dreadwar, gorzan
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Post by Deleted on Jun 22, 2018 19:18:13 GMT -5
IC: Darth Helinith
(the sun has set and its freakin’ cold)
Anathema got the message, it appeared, as her cry of “Fall Back” rang out. Helinith didn’t need telling twice. She had been ready to leave regardless, and she sprinted to follow the Anathema and the rest of their forces, her feet leaving the top of the stairs as the explosion opened up the interior of the temple behind them and the Gorog was crushed under the ensuing rubble. As she twisted to watch the spectacle, she glimpsed one of their own Inquisitors tossed between rubble, his armour opened up like eggshell and dashed on the floor far below. The following sensation of death that flooded the force crashed across her mind like a breaking wave and it made her flinch and turn away, nauseated. She sat down on the stairs, putting her lightsaber away and rubbing her temples. It felt like there was black tar bubbling at the back of her head, blinking and waking from an unknown slumber. Reaching down to her belt, her hand felt for and found her hip flask, which she drew out and absent-mindedly sipped from. The effect was gratifying, both warming and welcoming. Her brain stilled to a calmer sea and she stood up strong, having replaced her flask on her belt. Anathema had long left, and Helinith now retraced her steps through to the central hub, where officers pointed her in the direction of the other wall. She followed the winding stairs at a lick, hoping to catch up with the Blond sith- she was sure Insipid wouldn’t be pleased if she lost her- and came at that moment upon a curious site. It appeared that Darth Insipid was challenging an army. His stature and position on the wall certainly suggested as much, and Helinith hoped that Anathema might have been trying to talk him out of it, although she would have never have dared do such a thing herself (and from what she had learnt of Blondie so far, she doubted that the Anazi would be so inclined). Plus if he _was_ in the mood to take down an army one handed, he wouldn’t want to be interrupted. She suddenly felt like she was intruding on something private, a courtship between a Lord of the Sith and a battalion, which had many potential outcomes, and all of them better behind a locked bedroom door. She’d rather wait outside and listen at the keyhole. "We lost many sorcerers on the other wall, Lord Insipid, but your plan worked. Their vanguard is buried with the Gorog under a hundred tons of stone, and your former apprentice alone took out a dozen of their Inquisitors." I did? Helinith thought back and started counting on her fingers but she couldn’t make the numbers add up. She looked confused at Anathema, but was interrupted by the THUM and CRASH of long range artillery, as it opened fire upon them. As she ducked from the falling debris, a cry rang out from their opponents: "Behold the power of dread Rur!" Helinith crept towards the parapet and poked her head over so she could see what was going on. What was this? A strange glowing pyramid thing that seemed to be shooting lasers or something. Was she now in a bad B-holomovie? More astonishing was Insipid’s reaction. “Shit.” She felt the anger swell from him exponentially, warping the shots from the artillery fire and his eyes burning with… jealousy? Lust? This was quickly turning from courtship into a lover’s spat. Or perhaps full-blown divorce. She’d seen him excited about artefacts before but not like this. ‘Down, down the levels, Anathema, with my men; you’ll see. Helinith; with me.’ Helinith stood and saluted. “Gotcha” She watched with unnatural calm as her former master throw himself over the wall headfirst before walking over the parapet herself, using the force to pull her feet to the outside of the wall, so she could walk down it (horizontally). It certainly seemed safer than Insipid’s showing off and was also fairly comfortable, although she had to crane her neck so she could see where the batteries of fire were headed and avoid them. Once she was certain she had balanced the force right, she force-ran the rest of the way down. It seemed all the Lords of the Sith were trying to escape her today. Had she forgotten to shower? She was almost at the bottom when Insipid hurtled himself forward and into the ranks of the oncoming army with an almighty pulse and shock of force lightning, her own saving grace being that she hadn’t been standing behind him when he had done so. Although that’d have to change if he was going to stand a chance against an entire army. Helinith paused a moment more, trying to decide where to jump into the fray, before shrugging and launching herself with a somersault so she’d land behind him and cover his back, igniting her lightsaber as her feet hit the ground. Her former master seemed determined to try and kill himself today. Well if testing his luck was on the cards, at least she could weigh the dice in his favour. And it was GOOD to be away from politics of the higher Sith Lords and their stupid airs and graces, good to be away from conversations that felt like walking on eggshells. Hopefully this battle would last for a while. TAGS: Darth Dreadwar, @sinre
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Post by DarthVizuul on Jun 23, 2018 10:25:36 GMT -5
IC: Darth Primus
Outside the Dread Fortress, OriconCrunch...crunch....crunch....
Primus' ears picked up footsteps approaching from behind the group. He assumed the others heard as well due to the sounds making no effort to be muffled or shielded. Before having the moment to turn and find out where the steps were coming from, a voice preceded the unveiling of a physical form. “ You fools speak like Jedi. Worse than that, you rally behind an even more foolish one. He knows not what he speaks of. Or if he does, he doesn’t tell whole truths.” The words were menacing. Almost threatening in nature. Primus could feel the insult and anger swelling up and surrounding the newcomer with such conviction. Who was this being and why have they chosen to intervene? Noticing a lightsaber hanging from the belt of the individual approaching there was only one thought that came to mind. Ally...or foe. Not a Jedi, of course. A Jedi would not speak of the Sith with such pride. Another Sith, but who sent him? Primus instinctively threw up a Force Barrier in preparation for anything that may happen, with his hand at the ready near his lightsaber. " And you are?", was the only question that slipped past the muzzle of Primus with a low growl. He had no time for games and it appeared this being had no understanding as to the plans for each member of the group giving of the portrays of Jedi rather than Sith. Primus had pride in being Sith. To act as a Jedi sickened him, but if it were to be used cunningly then there was an obvious purpose behind it. TAG: Darth Catalyst, Darth Voidwalker, taciteoccultus, darthvoxyn
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Post by Deleted on Jun 24, 2018 6:48:12 GMT -5
IC: Nannley Location: The Desert of Lost Souls, Korriban As the winds blew another breeze through her fur, Nannley would stretch and look to various members of the crew as she figured this was a close knit crew and she was lucky she wouldn’t have to combat them. Thinking back to how close knit she was with the people back home, Nannley smiled as she remembered her sister. Oh how she missed Tira. She would be 15 now if she had survived the encounter 3 years ago now. A proud gatherer of their people and most likely married but still the cute little sister of the Moonlit Demon. Nannley knew her sister wouldn’t really be happy at the girl being on Korriban but for both of them and for the Galaxy, this path was the right one for her to take at the moment. Nannley would shake the thoughts away as she heard the sound of a speeder bike roaring to life. Walking over to the one she assumed she would be riding, Nannley swung her leg over before flipping switches herself as she heard the next bike come to life. Revving the engine a few times she smiled before calming the bike down back to the loud hum that currently emitted from the vehicle. Looking over to the captain Nannley would smile before deciding to finally say something to him. “Nice rides you got here Cap. I’m sure she is going to run real smooth you know. Should be a fun ride to the temple.” She would then turn her attention back to Karina and wait a few moments as the woman would finally turn her attention to Karina. “Get on I can drive good enough on my own and you can ride on the back.” She revved the engine again as the girl would walk over and join her. Once she was seated and ready to go, Nannley would lastly look to Voidwalker and wonder if he was ready to roll as well since it was apparent he was leading the group. “You ready? I’m trying to get settled in the temple as soon as possible. Moving now would be great since were all obviously ready.” Tag: Darth Voidwalker, kurtishenschel, 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 Jun 27, 2018 14:35:52 GMT -5
IC D-3PO High orbit above Nar Shaddaa
D-3PO prepared the hyperdrive as Reaper pulled his Hunter into the cargo bay and Corvar docked alongside the transport. He really was quite impressed with the way the three of them had handled themselves and worked as a concrete team. It would please Kubjo greatly in his report, especially since he had found a rogue Sith operative. Kubjo was always interested in what the Sith were up to. He would have to question Feros while they were in Hyperspace. Once Corvar had climbed aboard, D-3PO pushed forward the toggle and the freighter lurched into hyperspace.
Once the ship was safely en route to the mines of Corbos, D-3PO left the pilot's seat to go meet with the rest of the crew. "Most excellent flying, all of you!" the protocol droid excitedly chattered. "I must say we left those poor security forces quite in ruins. We should arrive at Corbos in 3.997 hours if the hyperdrive holds out. That should give plenty of time to restore your fighters to optimal operation capacity. Now what are we to do with the Twi'lek girl in the med bay?"
TAG: darthkain7 ,trentongordon, darthferos
IC Darth Arancia Dread Fortress, Oricon
Arancia stiffened at the abrupt entrance of Srethos. He had noticed the dark presence aboard the ship prior but had dismissed it as just a manifestation of the fear he felt searching out the Phobis Devices. In a way he was right, Srethos was certainly one that Arancia did not wish to know about the existence of such weapons. He turned to address the stowaway Sith to his face. "Arancia did not expect to have to chaperone Lord Srethos as well as these initiates," the Gand's voice buzzed with annoyance at his façade being potentially ruined. "As long as you are here, perhaps you will share the duty of mentorship with Arancia? These young minds need a role model but Arancia is sure you will suffice for now." Arancia turned away and marched across the bridge towards the Dread Fortress, beckoning his wards to follow him.
Below the bridge, lava spat and bubbled, threatening to singe the robes of the Sith that crossed it. The strong scent of sulfur and brimstone burned the nostrils and a hot wind threatened to take the travelers off their feet and carry them into the unknown. The ancient arched doors of the Dread Fortress towered overhead. Arancia pulled one of them open, the hinges screeching in protest as he did. The inside of the fortress was dark, the generators that had lit its halls long dead after centuries of disuse. The décor spoke of an ancient time, one where the Sith were far more powerful and prevalent. Arancia turned to those that had followed him into the Fortress. "Documentation of the Phobis Devices should be here, but where to start looking? Ideas?"
TAG:DarthVizuul ,taciteoccultus ,darthvoxyn ,Darth Voidwalker ,
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Post by trentongordon on Jun 27, 2018 16:45:38 GMT -5
IC: Reaper Location: Hyperspace Reaper hopped out of his Hunter to go meet the others and looked at D-3P0 as he spoke. He thought to his ship and silently was proud of it. He was glad no one could see his face. "Contact Kubjo. We need to tell him we're on our way and that he might have some security problems on his moon. As for the twi'lek hmmm. I'll take care of her if you guys wouldn't mind. Feros you may need to contact your Master. She'll want a report as well. As for the mine what can you tell us about it D-3P0? I want to know it inside and out. I'll fix Grimm later first we should plan for the worst but expect the best. If we don't find what we're looking for next stop is the Jedi Temple. Problem is it's used nowadays so it'll be full if Jedi. If we can work together there like we did Noe it shouldn't be a problem. The Three Musketeers. If Catalyst allows we shall be there and have good fortune eh?" He smiled under his helm and felt a sort of kinship with the trio. D-3P0 wasn't all that bad and Kain he'd fought with. Feros he might've just met but he was a capable fighter. He'd be glad to have them at his back. As long as he paid attention to what they held at the time and what way it was pointing. Hopefully not at him. Tag: Darth Catalyst, darthkain7, darthferos |
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Jun 28, 2018 2:11:24 GMT -5
IC: Darth ApollyonSith Temple, KorribanThe instant the team crossed the threshold of the Sith Temple's entryway, its members began to disperse. All rather unceremoniously - the grandiose roar of Neoplix as he landed on the parapets above as a shadow of death the only herald of their return. It was to be expected of Sith, Apollyon supposed. It was always about what came next; congratulating each other on a job well done was not exactly the Sith way. Darth Talon was waiting for Darth Xirr in the expansive sandy courtyard, arms folded over a voluptuous chest. She gestured him over to the shade, where she stood, reclining against the cool stone wall of the Temple campus' cantina. "So, you've completed your simple task, I trust?" she asked, unable to see the Tuk'ata entrails stowed away in his leather pouch. "The blood of the virgin, the entrails of the Tuk'ata, the skull of a mongrel Sith... You have them all?" Apollyon walked right past her, heading instead for the great onyx doors of the main Temple building. "Why don't you bring that in," she called back to Catalyst, raising her voice over the light wind blowing through the campus, "and have the kitchen staff cook it? We could enjoy it with some greens in my chambers." She managed a coy smile, before ducking out of sight into the Temple's marble reception hall, as if shying from her own forwardness. Her master, meanwhile, stalked away alone, headed for the sanctuary of his private tower on the far side of the courtyard. And thus the twins, Robyn Shaire, Darth Viscretus, and her newly appointed Dashade servant, were left alone. If the twins were intent to leave, Apollyon had not directed them to a shuttle, or indeed a hangar; Sith were not noted for their hospitality, and milling about without the uniform of a Sith acolyte was unwise. But the Morthi, left out in the desert, was available as an option, yet it was badly damaged, likely inoperable without repairs. Robyn Shaire had much less to worry about; she had been pulled out of Ermir Marcus' alchemy class earlier in the day, and that had been the last class of the day in her timetable. After all, it was dusk, now; initiates were free to do as they pleased, most returning to their communal barracks to socialise and sleep, some completing written assignments, some training late in the various battle simulators, others blowing off steam in the cantina. Of course, life was more difficult for students at the Sith Temple than in other institutions of higher learning. Neoplix knew that all too well. He sought out some of his more disagreeable peers, now, and he found them quickly - or rather, they found him. Outside the dining hall, in the main Temple building, three acolytes pointed and laughed as they spotted the armoured Gen'Dai. Neoplix would recognise them well. The leader of the trio was a tattooed Devaronian called Grindark; at his left was a female Falleen called Raizor, and at his right a bald, brutish human known simply by his nickname Crusher. "Well, well, if it isn't Little Neoplix Complex," Grindark chuckled, patting his pocket as he approached the Gen'Dai. "Don't forget, freak," he winked, "do that essay for me, or I'll show this to everyone at breakfast tomorrow." What Grindark was referring to, of course, would be recognised immediately by Neoplix: the datapad in Grindark's pocket, with which the acolyte had recorded a particularly brutal humiliation Neoplix had endured on his first night in the Temple, many months ago. How an older Zabrak had thrown a blanket over Neoplix while he was sleeping in his bunk, and led the entire barrack in beating him through it with fists and feet. Neoplix had woken up to their pounding blows. For a Gen'Dai, the humiliation lay not in the physical damage; the bruises and broken bones had healed with miraculous speed. It lay in the fact that, when the blanket had been whipped off, Neoplix was revealed to have been stealthily stripped while unconscious, his naked body captured on holocam by jeering peers. Ever since, Grindark had used the recording as blackmail. The Devaronian smiled devilishly. "Make it a good essay, now. I don't want to lose marks with Master Marcus. Where have you been anyway? Haven't seen you all week." TAG: @volshe, Shira, Padawan4687, Darth Catalyst, dice, gorzan, trentongordon--- IC: Krar SeturaThe Triumphant, hyperspaceAn alarm blared throughout all the Triumphant, interrupting all of the action. It was a proximity alarm. In one minute, the Super Star Destroyer would drop out of hyperspace - at their dangerously mysterious destination. In the medbay, meanwhile, nurses screamed as metallic wires erupted from the skin of Alisha Tano's arm, bristles thicker and more numerous nearer the initial infection site. The terrible burning pain instantly woke the Togruta from her Force-induced sleep. In case the gory sight of blood-tipped wires was not enough, the Force was screaming at her in warning: she was almost out of time. TAG: @volshe, Darth Voidwalker, Lord Vassago, Shira, Padawan4687
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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Jun 28, 2018 2:23:34 GMT -5
IC: Darth BellorumCantina, Sith Temple, KorribanBellorum snorted softly at Zhav'vorsa's antics. Giving the monstrous Yuuzhan Vong a glass of foam, rather than the drink he had requested, was not exactly good manners, but then, Bellorum had not expected good manners to come from Dathomir. But she had expected a certain battle-forged intelligence. Was it really wise to upset an unknown Sith of unknown provenance and power? If Zhav'vorsa had chanced to disrespect a Sith Lord in such a manner, Bellorum would ordinarily look forward to the grisly consequences, but in this case, Bellorum was clearly Zhav'vorsa's subservient, and if this stranger was a Sith Lord... Why, she doubted he would be very discriminating in his punishment. Bellorum could only remain silent, and hope the alien was a fellow apprentice. TAG: darthkain7, Lord Vassago, @sinre
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Post by Deleted on Jun 28, 2018 4:36:34 GMT -5
IC: VuaAlcove, Seats, Alpha Male MomentsVua eyed the glass of foam upon the table. Bellorum was proving skittish. The Dathomiri was challenging him, as he had challenged him back. Good. The other... he seemed to be intently focused, perhaps frustrated. Less interesting. Vua stood, allowing his mass to do its talking as he squared up to the bearded man, not so much appraising as piercing with his gaze. He did not know these two, but there was much confidence in the biggest of them. But Vua knew a dominance fight, and he peeled his lips from the top of his teeth, bearing them. He knew he cut a curious image; shorter than standard, but squarely built, and the ragged gap where his nose had been upon his face was a slash of ugliness and his feral nature displayed. His forehead sloped backward unnaturally, and tattooed pockmarked his skin. He was Yuuzhan Vong, in nature if not entirely in his genetics. Casually, he drew his still dripping hair into a ponytail behind his head. As he lowered his hands, he flicked out a finger and smashed the glass into the gap in the booth between him and the Frustrated One. ‘I am Darth Vua,’ he spoke, allowing his words to find their ears with the Force. ‘And you have offered me offence, infidel.’ ‘I would ask the names of whom I may be required, by the honour of the True Way, to balance against the Gods Judgment.’ Lord Vassago, darthkain7
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Darth Catalyst
Citizen
Dark Lord Immortalis & High Inquisitor
.: Chaos and Cunning
Handling the Hand
Posts: 248
Likes: 276
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Post by Darth Catalyst on Jun 28, 2018 10:44:45 GMT -5
IC Darth Catalyst
Temple Courtyard, KorribanCatalyst closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he reentered the Temple grounds. What had only been hours felt like months away from the sanctuary of the Sith fortress. The bustle of bodies was welcome next to the emptiness and silence of the tomb. Neoplix was gone, tending to his own errands likely. This bothered Catalyst none, for he had his own errands to attend to as well. This Tuk'ata wasn't going to skin itself, plus he wanted to check in on his Phantom and oversee its repairs. " Why don't you bring that in," Apollyon called back to Catalyst, slowly striding towards her quarters, " and have the kitchen staff cook it? We could enjoy it with some greens in my chambers." The intent of the suggestion was not lost to Catalyst and he managed a chuckle. While Tuk'ata meat was tough and stringy, not unlike the beast it came from, he was certain that the temple staff would find some way to bring out the tender tanginess that hid within. Truly, Tuk'ata prepared correctly could be a meal fit for an ancient king. Of course, Catalyst knew there would be something far more savory gracing his lips in the near future. The meal was just icing on the proverbial sweetroll. A wave of his hand left the Tuk'ata corpse restting on the ground brought one of the temple servants sliding on their heels towards him rather unwittingly. Catalyst held the struggling servant in the air telekinetically and spoke quietly to him. "You will take this corpse to the kitchens. Have it skinned and cooked. Set the hide aside to cure. Bring the finished meal to Lady Apollyon's quarters along with a fine vintage from the cellars. Have the hide brought to my personal chamber once it is fully cured and workable." He set the servant back on his feet gently. "Do not disappoint me." He turned his back, trusting the servant to follow his orders to the letter, and smiled to Apollyon. "Right behind you, Lady Apollyon. These robes, along with myself, require some immediate freshening though." He sauntered closer to her and lowered his voice so that only she could hear. "Perhaps a bath should be drawn in your chambers. I trust you have the necessary accommodations for two?" TAG: Darth Dreadwar, and whoever else wants to join I guess?
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dice
Citizen
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Likes: 65
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Post by dice on Jun 28, 2018 22:17:55 GMT -5
IC: Darth XirrTemple Courtyard, Korriban Xirr took a large inhale as he stepped over the threshold that lead into the Temple interior. It was great for a moment, that was until he saw Lady Talon gesturing towards him from across the sandy expanse that was the Temple Courtyard. Immediately after, the gravity of his mission set back in. "So, you've completed your simple task, I trust?" The lithesome Twi'lek purred "The blood of the virgin, the entrails of the Tuk'ata, the skull of a mongrel Sith... You have them all?" Xirr stopped as the ingredients for the ritual were once more said in the open air. The familiar sound of the voices once more filled his head, this time, however, it was not the Tomb asking him about sith history. It was the voices that he knew all too well. "Fool!" One voice said abruptly, the ethereal whisper Xirr was used to replaced by a rasping shout "Heretic!" another voice yelled "Beeetttrrrayyyyerrr...." The final voice said, whispering now once more, drawing out the final word of the trifecta as if emphasizing the label. "You sssseeek to rrrid yourssssselffff offff ussssss?" The voices began anew "Afffterr allll we have done ffffor youuuuu?" "Informationnn offf agessss passst is yourssssss.... the knowledgeee to become.... greaterr than you arrreeee. The worrrrdd offff ourrr trrrrrue Llllooorrdd.... hahahahahaha" The three voices cackled in unison to punctuate the cryptic final sentence. "Betrayerr......" They said once more, the last word fading back into the void with the voices that had plagued Xirr for so long. The armored lord shook his head, before readying himself to speak with Talon. "Well, Lady Talon." Xirr began, explaining himself. "I have with me the entrails of the Tuk'ata." Looking back to the initiate Robyn Shaire and signaling her over to the two, Xirr continued "That" He said, tilting his head to the side slightly to indicate Robyn "is our virgin. Very much alive, and assuredly full of blood." Xirr paused for a moment before continuing his explanation, knowing he was likely to upset Lady Talon, whom he was so desperate to impress, with the next line "The skull of a mongrel sith, however, I do not have. There was a... shortage of candidates for that position ashamedly. Though I trust we can find a... suitable specimen here in the Temple, My Lady." In truth, Xirr had forgotten entirely about the need for the skull of a mongrel sith, and thus, had not even searched for one during their adventure into the decrepit depths of the Tomb, somewhere there was certainly no shortage of bones to be picked through. But how was he to tell if one skull was more suitable than another? What did the ritual mean by the 'skull of a mongrel sith?' Was there perhaps even one amongst the Tomb Party? "My apologies, Lady Talon."
TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Padawan4687,
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Post by Zhav'vorsa on Jun 30, 2018 2:33:29 GMT -5
IC: Warlord Zhav'vorsaSith Cantina, KorribanEven in the deafening, thundering bass of the cantina, the Warlord was able to hear the creature speaking. He couldn’t clearly identify the being that stood before him, squaring up, bearing his teeth with a piercing gaze. Zhav had never seen a sentient being quite like him on Dathomir. The being’s lack of a nose, bilious pocked and tattooed skin, and oddly slopped features caused no more than a narrowed glare from the Warlord as he studied a potential challenger. The sound of the empty tankard smashing was drowned out almost entirely by the noise of the cantina behind the small group. Zhav’vorsa largely ignored the motion and kept his eyes sharp to the shape ahead of him. When the unknown sentient spoke, he revealed his name and hurled an insult at Zhav’vorsa, referring to the great Warlord as an ‘infidel’; men had been cut in two for less back on Dathomir. His top lip curled into a sneer, wrinkles forming across the bridge of his crooked nose, and he huffed in laughter at the being’s audacity. “ You stand before the Warlord of the Howling Blade Clan, the Stacker of Corpses,” Zhav’vorsa shouted over the music. He contracted the muscles in his scarred and painted chest, causing his pectoral muscles to ripple, appearing more vascular. He rolled his shoulders and cricked his neck, taking a step forward. “ These two are of no consequence,” he stated, raising his bearded chin in a gesture toward Zul’tar and Bellorum. The towering Warlord took another step forward, keeping the table of the booth between himself and Vua. He nodded his head at Vua, locking his amber eyes onto the sunken-in face of the alien with dripping hair. With a mighty swing, the Warlord threw his right hand over his chest, his fist impacting his painted flesh creating a mighty thud. “ Put action to your words, lajaki. Show me the gods judgement,” Zhav’vorsa spat back to Vua, referring to him as a ‘little warrior’ in his native tongue. He sneered once more, the fire behind his eyes becoming more evident with his obvious challenge to the unknown creature. Though the Warlord knew very little of the being across the table from him, he was intrigued by Vua’s display of confidence in the face of a physically superior challenger. He reveled in the prospect of a real fight, being that some time had gone by since his knuckles last met the flesh of a worthy contender; Coatlec was hardly a challenge, more a lump of flesh to be disregarded, like a whore during the festivities that followed a successful conquest for the Clan. He could hardly contain his bloodlust. It rose within him, churning like a wild, unpredictable storm. His eyes sharpened, the hairs on his shoulders and the back of his neck seemed to perk up, like that of a rabid wolf engaged in a territorial dispute. He waited… Tag: @sinre,darthkain7,Darth Dreadwar,
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Post by Deleted on Jun 30, 2018 18:08:00 GMT -5
IC: Darth Solus
Location: The Citadel, Dromund Kaas
Nostrem spoke and his words were true. A master’s job is to breed an apprentice that may surpass them one day, however he was also wrong. An apprentice does not need to surpass their master in everything. In truth there were areas that Solus could guarantee that young Deleritas would pass him. Saber forms being a blaring one and tracking being another, but he would not surpass Solus in all regards. Solus didn’t show any signs of being even slightly offended or even that he disagreed. His mask still watched the spectrum as he spoke. Deleritas was not so collected, he had not learned to hold back yet. Solus’ head snapped toward his apprentice when he heard the scoff.
“Outmatch my superior?”
The sarcasm oozed from his lips. Perhaps he made note of the transition from saying he would abandon me to complimenting his future ascension. Solus’ eyes watched closely as his apprentice continued, the tension growing with every word. The rage increasing. Solus could feel the fire burning in Deleritas. Perhaps this is the time to release that pent up anger.
“Either your mind has deteriorated much more than I had previously thought, or you are just playing more games.”
There was little doubt in Solus’ mind that both statements were true. His mind is gone. Betrayal does that to a man, yet it also creates resentment, anger. As he spoke, Deleritas advanced slightly. The growl of his voice ferocious and intense. A twisted smile crossed Solus’ face. His apprentices loyalty, as always, unfailing.
“You failed yourself and your empire with your arrogance and lack of faith in yourself.”
With Deleritas’ statement Solus’ eyes grew wide. He did not fail the empire, his empire failed him. That was the string to pull, he was devout and loyal to a fault. Since the empire turned on him, why would he trust another empire? Now that Solus had found the play Deleritas’ chatter, although flattering, was only noise.
“I do hope that one day, I will prove to be a Sith that has learned much from his master and proves to be a Sith worthy of the Council. But that day is not today nor, will these catacombs be his deathbed like they were yours.”
Deleritas ended his monologue, it was time for Solus to play his cards. Nostrem seemed to care very little for the words that Deleritas spoke. Why would he care? His empire apprentices meant nothing. Even in ours they mean little; however I am not most sith. Solus’ eyes refocused on Nostrem, as the specter began to speak. Nostrem’s back being turned was a good opportunity. Solus lifted one hand towards his mask. His fingers fell across his mask in clear view of Deleritas. Pinky and ring finger still bent into his hand. Index, middle, and thumb all splayed out straight. It was a signal, that Solus hoped Deleritas had learned. Follow my lead. To most this action may look as though Solus was merely considering someone’s words, or falling into thought. Deleritas had been the only person to learn Solus’ silent code, only one so far.
“Please lord Nostrem. Excuse my apprentice, he has not yet learned the truth of your downfall. He has only been told the story through the archives, before our dismissal. But allow me to correct him.”
Solus slowly turned to look upon Deleritas. His apprentice clearly still fumed with anger, yet was looking to his master for direction.
“Lord Nostrem did not fail his empire. As a matter of fact, much like us, his empire failed him.”
Solus’ head dropped slightly as he completed his statement.
“Nostrem did everything right, and when the time came for his empire to repay him for his great creation… They turned on him and trapped him in his own masterpiece.”
Solus turned back to look at Nostrem, his confidence unwavering.
“We came here to find direction. To learn from a failing of a past empire, so that it may guide us through the failing of the current empire. My apprentice joined me out of loyalty and we left when the ruling party deemed me worthless.”
Solus stood tall, firm in his statement, firm in his standing. He continued to look around. All around him had fallen to ruin. Perhaps a the force, cryokinesis, could get the pumps running, but it didn’t matter if they didn’t have the hard drive of the computers. They have information we need. Perhaps we could view its information on the ship, or maybe in another building. Nostrem had to trust him.
“It is a shame that we cannot access the computers here. Having your guiding word would be excellent in addition to reviewing the archives. Maybe then we could find direction.”
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Post by darthferos on Jun 30, 2018 18:21:58 GMT -5
IC: Darth Feros Aboard the unmaneuverable flying crate Hyperspace Feros hadn't really planned to go to Corbos, but he felt it was where the Force was guiding him. He would relax and let the course go for now. They had done decently well in dealing with the security forces. These two were not quite Sith. Not yet. But they had the makings. They knew the Dark Side in any sense. "3PO. Do me a favor. Don't tell Kubjo I'm aboard the ship. I don't think he needs to know just yet." The comm unit chimed as it was ready and Feros recorded his message. "Maladi. We've left Nar Shaddaa. We're in Hyperspace headed to Corbos. Now will you tell me what exactly your intent for me is? What exactly is it I'm to be doing? I'm growing tired of the vague half explanations." Feros hit send. She'd be angry, but she wouldn't harm him. Not yet. Maladi had always given him the feeling that she needed him for something. Something other than the occasional pleasures of the flesh anyway. Darth Catalyst darthkain7 trentongordon |
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Post by darthkain7 on Jun 30, 2018 19:41:57 GMT -5
IC: Darth KainLocation: HyperspaceCorvar watched as D-3PO shuffled into the cargo hold, meeting with the three darksiders. If the protocol droid’s metal casing for a face was able to express emotion, Corvar was sure that the droid would be smiling. In fact, both 3PO and Reaper seemed quite ecstatic that they had survived. Feros was not so happy, it seemed, though not angry. He acted as if he was not looking forward to something, but Corvar wouldn't dare hazard a guess as to what Feros was dreading. At least, not out loud. A slight shiver ran up Corvar's spine when Reaper mentioned that he would take the Twi'lek girl. While Corvar had no need for her, he could only imagine what Reaper was going to do with her. But it was nothing that Corvar was willing to prevent. They would need to work together in the mines of Corbos, and Corvar wasn't going to jeopardize that for a girl that would've killed him earlier should she have had the chance. “ By the way,” Corvar spoke, reaching into his pocket, “ you'll probably be needing this.” In Corvar’s hand was Reaper’s lightsaber, a bit larger than Corvar's own, but just as elegant of a weapon. Reaper would take the lightsaber from Corvar's grasp, though Corvar wouldn't be sticking around to hear a reply from the darksider. “ Well, if we have a few hours to kill, I might as well get a head start. You guys can go ahead and talk about the mines. I'll be in my quarters trying to forget that we're going to be underground.” With that, Corvar left the cargo hold, doing as he said and heading for his quarters. His bag still lied on his bed, undisturbed. 3PO and Feros were obviously too busy trying to save this ship to worry about skulking through Corvar's things. The door to Corvar's room slid closed with a thought, and he sat on his bed and reached into the bag. Immediately, he felt the sharp edges of the holocron brush against his fingertips. Grabbing hold of it, Corvar retrieved the artifact and brought it to view. It had an unnatural crimson glow, shaped like a pyramid of obsidian. The dark side was powerful in this holocron, likely matching the essence of the one who created it. Corvar didn't know much about holocrons from his travels, only that both the Jedi and Sith possessed their own versions, and that holocrons were able to contain large quantities of information. Hassan had tried securing one when he was trying to help Corvar control his abilities, but apparently that was far too expensive on a smuggler’s salary. Corvar slid the holocron back inside the back, deciding he'd dedicate more time to it later. His hand then drifted to a more comfortable object to hold, made of parchment. His hand escaped the bag with a scroll in its grasp, one his adoptive father had been able to afford. He'd acquired the scrolls shortly before the events on Tatooine, and it had been in the possession of slavers until Corvar burned them all alive. He rolled the scroll open, revealing words of the Aing-Tii written upon the parchment, with small translations in basic written along the sides. The Aing-Tii had a strange view of the Force, believing it to be more of a rainbow rather than believing in the more simple narrative of the dark and the light. However, that didn't concern Corvar nearly as much as the tales of the Aing-Tii being able to manipulate time itself in such a way that simple precognition was child’s play in comparison. He would study the scrolls for nearly half an hour before remembering that they had more than just an unconscious Twi'lek on board as a guest. Corvar soon found himself standing in front of the bacta tank containing the Miraluka girl. She seemed to not have suffered any new injuries between her capture and her placement aboard the ship. Good. She needed training, not a beating. TAGS: Darth Catalyst , trentongordon , darthferos TAGSET: Corbos * * * IC: Zul'tarLocation: Sith Cantina, KorribanThe old warrior looked on as the strange being squared up to the warlord. Both seemed to disregard Zul'tar, which was fair for Zhav'vorsa, but foolish for the stranger. No matter. Zul’tar had seen the warlord in battle, and he was confident that Zhav'vorsa would emerge victorious should the stranger attempt to start a brawl. Regardless, Zul'tar held his tongue. He could feel Zhav'vorsa’s desire for a fight, and any attempt to rob the warlord of that would be met with swift resistance. Instead, the old warrior took two steps backward and crossed his arms, ready for the show to begin. TAGS: Darth Dreadwar , Lord Vassago , Shira TAGSET: Beast Hunt
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gorzan
Citizen
Posts: 93
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Post by gorzan on Jul 1, 2018 1:59:57 GMT -5
Ic: Neoplix Location: academy on korriban If Neoplix had possessed a heart, it would have nearly stopped. His plans had been all well and good, the idea of direct confrontation and humiliation. But he had forgotten the holorecording, and he had forgotten the day to Day monotony. Everything is easy in planning. But, as a wise Sith Lord once said, no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy. And thus, he stuttered to a stop, unsure of what to do next. Was his armor not intimidating enough? Were his blades not threatening enough? He knew that if necessary he could tear them limb from limb, but this was no challenge of physical strength, and thus it couldn’t be solved through it. Instead of a terrifying roar like he had looked upon his arrival, he almost stuttered and coughed. But he managed not to make a sound, holding it behind the intimidating mask of his helmet. Instead, he nodded, appearing to humble himself outwardly. “Of course, of course. It will be finished tonight. I’ll submit it then.” And then he was gone. Inside, he seethed with anger. He should have spoken back, defended himself, done something in retaliation. But no... no... none of those could bring victory. Only one path could bring victory: he would need to humiliate grindark. It would have to be bad. Far worse than the holorecording Grindark has taken. For a second, Neoplix thought of Catalyst. But, his master had his own things to do. Involving him now would only make Neoplix appear weak and incapable, and he couldn’t have that. No, this was best done alone, by his own strength, and by his own mind. He began to grin as he thought of the possibilities. He arrived back in his quarters and sat on his bunk, beginning work on his paper, while also encoding a secret program within the digifile. “The rule of two arose because of weakness. Both weakness within the sith ranks, and weakness within bane. Had bane been strong enough to conquer and control his fellow sith, his misguided, yet noble, venture might have been a success. Instead, he wiped out a large portion of the sith forces along with the Jedi, and this willingness to sacrifice his men, while on one hand unnecessary, also shows his true devotion to his cause. If one is unable or unwilling to commit everything they have to a cause, then they have already failed. It is this willingness to sacrifice, and this idea of survival of the fittest, that I have chosen to write about. You see, there are some sith here who would prefer they, in all their foolishness, reach the sith ranks. And while perhaps they might be a useful as a peon or canon fodder, weeding them from the strong bow is far better. It enables us to focus on the strong, not the weak. And more importantly, it provides competition and motivation to become the best. And now is the end of one of those competitions. You see, Grindark the devaronian has, for some time now, been forcing me to complete his writing, essays, and work. But no longer. In fact, while you have been reading this, an encoded virus within this message has eaten away every record of every one of his papers or assignments I completed. Nothing you can do will stop this. It’s done. Your holovid has no hold on me. Sure, enjoy it. But have fun watching this as well.” He implanted a clip of his video, feeling once again a resurgence of shame. But he quashed the feeling beneath his pride, ambition, and fear. They would have a far more interesting clip by tonight. He left an empty attachment folder for the end of the speech, and activated his camera on his helmet. It was time. He checked his HUD, confirming it was past midnight. Following standard schedule, Grindark would be in bed, probably asleep. Neoplix rose from his bed, not tired, as he required no sleep. He padded through the halls, making his way carefully to grindark’s quarters. Once he found them, he took a deep breath. “Remember: no fear, no going back.” Then he moved, slipping through the door, silent as a shadow, aiming for his rival’s bed. Tags: Darth Catalyst, |
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Padawan4687
Imperial Intelligence
.: Empress' Sword / Director of Intelligence
Posts: 133 
Likes: 112
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Post by Padawan4687 on Jul 1, 2018 19:12:45 GMT -5
IC: Xal’den Desani
Location: Triumphant medbay The Doctor’s words weren’t particularly comforting, but Xal’den managed to not. “She’s so dim...” he commented softly, turning back to Alisha’s bedside. If he wasn’t paying attention, he could miss her faint light entirely. He didn’t even know what exactly was wrong with her! He would’ve returned to his chair when another voice stole his attention away for a second. “Is that... Knight Setura?” he muttered, poking his head outside. He couldn’t quite see from here, but that was definitely her voice. That was, very unlike her, far as he’d been aware, and even more unusual was the party around her! That old man came back, as well as a should-be prisoner who’s face and name was broadcast to just about everyone aboard a few short minutes, or maybe hours, ago. “We need security here, right now...” Xal’den angrily shook his head, switching on his comlink. He didn’t know what could possibly posses one of Nox’s guards to not only let him out of a cell, but also escort him all the way here...though perhaps it was literal. To what, make sure you kill her? He gritted his teeth as he began reporting. Haven't you put her through enough yet?!A blaring red alarm tore through his report, and the Force suddenly screaming a warning in his ears tore through his thoughts. Finally came a third scream, of agony coming out of his girlfriend’s own mouth as she snapped awake. A fourth came from Xal’den himself at the sight of the blood quickly soaking the bed she laid in. “A-Alisha!” He all but gasped, bolting over and shielding her bloodied arm from sight. Her eyes were completely unfocused, bleary from both pain and induced sleep. “Look at me! I’m here, I’m right here!” Xal’den remained close, wrapping Alisha’s weakened light with his own. Her screams lessened, only for Alisha to let out a cough. “It hurts-!” she whimpered, “It hurts so much! Make it STOP!” Her teeth were gritted, but already tears were beginning to run. Xal’den could feel his heart crumbling at the sight, but he leaned in closer. “I know baby, I know it hurts,” it took all of his strength to keep his voice even, and his light wound just a little tighter. “We’re trying, everyone’s trying!”Suddenly Alisha was looking straight at him, about as focused as she could be through the haze. Through her sobs, she managed to force out, “It- Xal... I’m losing this fight! This thing- it’s eating me! If it takes me-” “Don’t say that!” Xal’den furiously interrupted her, “Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” Just a few hours ago Alisha was pinned down at Death’s door, and neither he and Lady A’dola could make a move to save her before the slaughter. And now she was fading again with him inches away this time, but no less helpless! It would drive him insane! “We’re not giving up on you,” he insisted, taking Alisha’s good hand in both of his, “Please... don’t give up!”TAG: Shira , Volshe , Darth Voidwalker , Darth Dreadwar
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Post by darthvoxyn on Jul 1, 2018 23:27:33 GMT -5
IC: Darth Voxyn Location: Oricon Dread Fortress "My lord" Voxyn said with a bow then he started towards the doors of the fortress taking a brief moment to study the new guy. Rattataki, and a tough looking one at that, very tall and muscular so probably not someone to piss off at the moment. As he entered the fortress all he saw was darkness. "How big is this device my lord? knowing the size could narrow down the places it could be" Voxyn asked in response to Arancias question as he put on his night vision goggles and activated them. "If its here." he said under his breath. Looking around he didn't see anything other than old decor. Tags: Darth Catalyst, Darth Voidwalker, DarthVizuul, taciteoccultus |
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