The Old Sith Trials

IC: Nannley
Location: Sith Temple, Korriban

The ride through the desert had been a hassle on her fur and currently the girl was annoyed as she sped along in the speeder. Sand debris all throughout her coat would be such a fuss to wash out later and she knew she would have to hog whatever shower was available to her here. Already realizing she was going to make enemies on her first day, Nannley sighed and actually began to contemplate how much of a stir she would cause just trying to use whatever public showers they had for prolonged use. And force forbid they actually had shampoo that could compliment the complex fur coats of Cathar females. More than likely she was mentally accepting that she would have to go for a few days with rough and irritating fur. Pushing the thoughts aside the temple started to come closer into view, she sped up as she was simply ready to get there and get settled in at the temple.

Ascending the slope of the mountain and pulling the speeder to a stop not that far from the durasteel portcullis, Nannley would kill the ignition of the speeder’s engine and let the noise die out before making her next move. Getting up from the speeder with Karina, she would readjust her clothing and take a few seconds to dust the little bit of sand that was loose on her fur. Feeling a cold breeze hit her, Nannley wondered if it was from the actual weather or did simply the presence of so many Sith change the air temperature at the campus. Taking a few steps forward, when commanded to halt she immediately stopped in her tracks and looked back to the others in hopes that they complied with the instructions as well. When asked to identify themselves, Nannley would take that risky step forward as she figured she take the lead of the group and gain them entrance into the campus. “My name is Nannley and I’m seeking entrance to the campus to continue my studies in the way of the dark side. With me is Captain Jacen Thilly, his crew member Karina, and the Sith known as Voidwalker. We are friends of the Sith and wish to cause no harm. May we be allowed entrance onto the campus.” She smiled as she wrapped up her introduction hopping the guards would finally see them as allies and not potential foes.

Tags: Darth Dreadwar, Darth Voidwalker, kurtishenschel

IC: Tacite Occultus / Crystal
Location: Dread Fortress, Oricon

Since Srethros arrival among the group Tacite began questioning everything he knew so far. Who were these people really? What did they expect he would be able to do in a dangerous place like this with no weapon? Why did they call this newcomer a Lord? And why did they show him so much respect?

At that moment the crystal spoke in his mind once more. "It seems we have been deceived by our captors. No Jedi would respect a man with so much anger and pride, and that would use the title Jedi as a curse."

Tacite considers this before responding. "If not Jedi who are they?"

The crystal seems to hum abit like its laughing. "That Jedi's memories might have more information, use the resources at your disposal."

Tacite does as directed and sifts through the stolen memories. As he does he thinks of all that he has noticed so far. At that moment he hears the voice of the consumed Jedi crying in terror the same word over and over again. Sith. Upon that word he delves deeper looking for more information on what or who these Sith are.

The further into the memories he delved the more he heard the sweet and honeyed words of the deceased girls past. Finally he reached the knowledge he'd been searching for. Sith were everything a Jedi was not. They wanted power and control. They killed mercilessly and often. They rely on their darker emotions such as anger to get what they want.

The more Tacite learned about what the Sith are, the more he felt akin to them. The more he felt that he needed their knowledge and power for himself.

The crystal hums with approval "You have learned who they are, have you? More so you have come to a realization. Tell me so that we can work towards this goal together."

Tacite looks up with a determined look. "They are Sith. They are what I must become, only I must be better. I must have this power for my own."

The crystal hums with satisfaction. "Then begin your studies from the prideful newcomer and work from there. Use his experiences to better yourself. Follow his example. And for the sake of all that is power find yourself a damn weapon."

With that the crystal quiets once more and Tacite continues with the group, studying Srethros while simultaneously searching for something he can use as a weapon.

TAG: Darth Voidwalker,DarthVizuul,Darth Catalyst,darthvoxyn,

IC: Darth Helinith
Location: cold cold cold

Unlike those around her, Helinith was close to obvious to the danger she was in, perhaps she was too focused in the moment or perhaps it was a slight lingering effect of Insipid’s suggestion. Either way, she was alive and focused on the three cyborgs that clambered towards her. She ducked to a low crouch to avoid the thrusts aimed at her chest and neck, swinging her own lightsaber in a wide arc, intending to separate three troopers from six legs, starting with the one aiming for her abdomen.

As she did so, Insipid flew over her shoulder and back towards the wall, which might have taken her by surprise several years ago. But her apprenticeship long behind her, she was used to expecting the unexpected when it came to her former master. Becoming more aware now of the predicament she was in, and in the split second it took to process his flying body, she decided it was likely a good idea to follow it. She took a moment to radiate a burst of lightning from her body in a radius of around 3 metres, hoping to fry or at least disrupt the internals of any sith cyborgs still in danger of doing her any damage, before transitioning to a run. Back, back, back the way she’d just came. But in her haste to get back to the wall she’d lost focus and, with her back to the enemy, she was not covering her retreat.

TAGs: @sinre,
Darth Dreadwar,

IC: Kint Dranlor
Location: dark slimey spaceship, with lord venomis, somewhere in hyperspace

Kint looked down at the screen, seeing the beams powering down. He had a short burst of hope and success, followed immediately by confusion. “What the hell... why wou-...”

He was cut off by the ship jolting into hyperspace. He cursed. Of course. They were still just as trapped as when the gravity wells had prevented them from exiting, only now they had no idea where they were. Of course, he and Lemmy had their own ships to escape on. But these newcomers... they had teleported into the room, and just suspected they had teleported from off-ship. That meant that they likely had no way of escape, which left Kint’s ship as an extremely powerful bargaining piece. More importantly, Kint had to make sure they went WITH him, rather than opting to simply try to kill him or steal his ship.

He looked down at the computer, trying to decipher the keypad, typing rapidly to find a map. As he did, he reached down and placed a small black box on the bottom of the console, where it stayed, magnetically attached. He was taking no chances, and having an ace in the hole, or a trick or two up his sleeve would be useful down the road.

Then, he heard the voice. Terrifying, to be sure, but to Kint, terror wasn’t new. No, for some reason the black substance was once more showing intelligence. A hive mind. And this time, it wasn’t messing around. No skittering abominations, no batlike pests, no melodramatic hallway Chase by a wave of black slime. A wall of blackness, broken only by the disfigured frames of the possessed bodies. No way in, no way out.

Kint cursed, looking down at the map once more. He needed to find persevus, get the information he needed, and get the hell out. But how? His mind raced, discarding idea after idea. Then, he re. “You!” He shouted to the nearest, human looking figure. “Quickly, how did you teleport aboard the ship? And can you get us there?” He pointed to where he thought the brig was located.

Tags: Darth Catalyst Darth Dreadwar

IC: Darth Xirr
Temple Courtyard, Sith Temple, Korriban


     "You're telling me...you forgot the very reason I sent you to the Valley of the Dark Lords? You just returned from a tomb, yes? You're telling me you couldn't find a single 'suitable specimen,' a single skull, in the crypt whence you came?" Talon hissed, her voice quickly becoming uncharacteristically vitriolic,  "You're going to have to go back out there. And take the virgin with you. She's no good to me without the skull." The lithesome Twi'lek finished, scouring sourly at Robyn Shaire. Xirr stopped for a moment, searching for words. Finally he regained his composure enough to speak to Talon, "Quite the contrary, actually, Lady Talon. I quite obviously did not forget the reason I was sent to the Valley." The armored lord patted the now discolored leather pouch that hung from his belt and extended an arm in Shaire's direction to indicate the main two ingredients that he had quite successfully procured. "I simply... overlooked one ingredient." He continued. "And, My Lady, If I may. What exactly qualifies a 'mongrel sith'?" 

    Xirr, in fact, dreaded the idea of returning to the Tomb of Naga Sadow with only Robyn Shaire, capable as she may be, to back him up. Though he assumed that they wouldn't have to go far to pick out a skull once what he was looking for was described to him. The sense of home that Xirr felt in just the courtyard of the temple on Korriban was quickly fleeting, and the dread that the Tomb brought with it was creeping back into the edge of his consciousness. The memory of the trudge through the scorching desert sands towards the imposing maw of the tomb, falling into the force stifling pits in front of the door, wearily slinking through the damp tunnels that made up the subterranean complex that was the Tomb of Naga Sadow, all memories that Xirr had no wish to go repeating. 

    Regardless, Xirr would not be heading back out tonight. He planned to retire to his chambers until the morrow, where he and Robyn would take leave early in the day. He hoped that would be satisfactory to Talon, Xirr needed the sleep. 

TAG: Darth Dreadwar,Padawan4687,

IC: Voidwalker
The Sith Temple, Korriban

Starring at the barrel of the blaster that Karina had aimed at him, Voidwalker couldn’t help but feel some small sense of empathy for her. Sure she was good to look at topless as she was ruthless, however she couldn’t see through a veil of deceit that benefited her. Turning his gaze to look her dead in the eye he spoke to her as an individual, as if the two of them were the only beings in the entire cosmos.

“Karina, I suggest you lower that blaster and listen to me. What I just did was to protect you, just as I have vowed to do. Of all the smuggling operations you have been on, how many times did you get stopped by a Republic check point that had Jedi waiting? There were numerous whispers of turning not only me over but also you. They seen that you had befriended me and where changing as an individual. They were planning on turning on you as well. Search your feelings. You know it to be true. I have provided you with a better opportunity, one where you’re in complete control. Besides if your crew is sparred, you’re now I control of the operation and so much more. So I highly suggest you put the blaster down. If anything, a thank you is in order.”

Looking over to Nannely, Voidwalker offered a wink as in to play along before turning back to the guard, Voidwalker tried to cover up the small outburst of his would be companion. “You’ll have to forgive my friend, it’s understandable that she grows attached to people. Newly discovered Force Sensitives, am I right? It’s like what can you do besides mold them in ones own image.”

TAG: Darth Dreadwar kurtishenschel @lordjania

IC: Karina
The Sith Temple, Korriban

Stopping just short of the speeder she noticed the guards focus on her and slowly lowered her blaster avoiding meeting voidwalkers gaze at the moment even if he justified his actions it didn't mean she'd rush to trust him just yet. Sliding the blaster back into her holster she looked down at the captains corpse and sighed "at least give him a proper burial he deserves that much." With that she silently rejoined them at the entrance waiting to see if the guards would let them pass.

Tags: Darth Dreadwar Darth Voidwalker @lordjania

IC Lord Hypnos
Ninushodojinyaut control room, hyperspace

Hypnos felt a very human feeling as the Ninushodojinyaut lurched into hyperspace: annoyance. He was a step closer to his goals though, and that made him far less panicked than Raspir or the random beings trying to escape this place were. He watched the one that seemed to be in control continuing to fiddle with the control console. Had Hypnos known what the mercenary was searching for, he likely would have provided assistance, but something far more pressing was happening.

"Fools. We have you now."


The black abominations began their assault on the motley crew. Lemmy, in a burst of instinct, squeezed the trigger of his cannon, sending multiple blasts of plasma speeding towards the open jaws of the beasts. “We need to be not here!” he shouted to Kint. “I'd rather be in the belly of a Sarlacc that's eaten six Ackley for breakfast!”

Hypnos nodded his head in agreement at the strange string of words that reverberated through the corridors. He very much knew the target that he had painted himself with. No doubt, when Venomis discovered that it was his former General now attempting to sabotage his ship and steal his war prizes, there would surely be a reckoning. Hypnos was not going to go back so willingly. He raised his robotic hand, channeling dark side energy into a wave of crimson lightning, intending to push the monstrous mockeries of life back from his new allies. "We came aboard from the space assault," he stated calmly, for the benefit of the mercenary questioning him. "Our appearence here was not by fault. To get to there would be simple enough to do, but I must ask, how is that helping you?" There were few illusions l eft now as to who he was. Hypnos didn't enjoy that. But the mirror was somewhere on this ship. And he needed it.

TAG: Darth Dreadwar , gorzan

IC: Gis'pefu
Nearing Jungle, Yavin IV

As the young twi'lik inspected the tracks, Gis'pefu would sigh as any footprints from her culprit were scattered along with the other footprints from the attack. But something was...odd. The sithspawn's prints from from the jungle. 

"Now that I think about it. We never did find out where this behemoth came from. Maybe this'll solve at least that much."

Gis'pefu said to herself as she followed the trail opposite of the Terentatek's movements. Thinking about whether the sithspawn was a coincidence...or perhaps a tool used by the thief. 


Darth Voidwalker,

Emperor's Tower, Sith Temple, Korriban

The dark places of the galaxy bristled with strange architecture. The Killik spires of Alsakan, the tombs of Sarafur, the temples of Korman Lao. Darth Viscretus would surely be familiar with them all; after all, she was Head of Sith Intelligence, having replaced Darth Maladi in a move that had seen the demoted Devaronian develop a healthy amount of resentment for her fairer superior. It was Viscretus' duty to know things. Yet the Dread Lord's tower was unsettling in an unfamiliar way.

It was imposing, yes, and much taller than it had looked from the deserts of Dreshdae, but there was another quality to it, an indefinable sense of wrongness, as if it had been built at some unnatural angle such that it seemed to curl down on top of her like an immense bestial claw. Whispers crawled in the Sith Temple, that the resurrection of the ancient Lord Dreadwar had portended the return of primordial and unholy teachings, that the ancient Sith had developed techniques to manipulate spatial geometry itself, creating defiled temples that were detached from physical reality and caliginous towers that breached the veil between worlds to erupt into nightmarish realms beyond all shadow. According to the whispers, one ancient Sith Lord had even created a labyrinth from which none could ever escape.

Dreadwar's tower was like something wrenched from the ghost stories of Dread Rur, that ancient and mythical builder of vaulted cathedrals into which, according to legend, he had invited the loathsome forms of nameless things. Only Dreadwar was not Dread Rur; if that ancient sinister summoner of abominations had been a pawn of the atavistic, abhorrent armies of pale squirmers he had convoked and the obscene lost gods they worshipped, then Dreadwar surely was the eldritch god, and this tower he had erected, sprouting from the private residence of the long-dead Vassago, was both his sepulcher and synagogue.

Although the tower had been built only a handful of years prior, the Emperor's unnatural presence had already corrupted its aspect to that of a ruin, abandoned and forgotten by all but the dead. The occasional faint glimmers of light that burned in the windows near its peak only made it look more hollow somehow, a place that had fallen into the possession of ghosts.

Into this ghastly tower walked Viscretus, following the retreating black cloak of the Emperor at a distance. Unlike the gates of the Temple campus, there were no guards posted at the entrance. There was no need. It was enough that the tower was known to be forbidden to all but the Emperor, and that to step beyond its dark threshold was to court death itself.

Perhaps Viscretus thought her courtship riskless.

Foolish if so. The Emperor sensed her trailing presence, and a hiss of annoyance escaped his empty hood, echoing in the darkness. The girl was intruding upon a sanctum even more hallowed than his artifact keep, and her intentions were laid bare before the device of his deduction; she was, once again, attempting to take a step beyond her station and into the private intimacies of her Lord, seeking to seduce his favour and attention. She had seen the final resting place of his sarcophagus; she would not see the resting place of his bed. If only, the Emperor thought wryly, because I have no bed. The only kind of sleep the Emperor knew was the deathless sleep from which he had returned on Nilrebmah.

The interior of the tower was spacious yet abysmally gloomy, wall-mounted torches casting an eerie red glow on what looked like dark obsidian. The shifting scarlet illumination created sinister patterns of sinuous shadow playing across the twisted reliefs and gargoyles of ophidian grotesquerie. It was if vipers of shadow were ready to spring at Viscretus' heels, and a dark seething mist deepened, swirling around her feet and hissing at her passage, as she drew closer to the Emperor. He stood facing the frieze on the far wall, his gauntleted hands held behind his back as he waited for the lonesome turbolift to descend.

"I can ssensssse you, child," he whispered into the cold stale air. "Why do you follow me?"

Catalyst's attempts to seduce the Emperor's Hand, on the other hand, were proceeding apace. Her tone was as smooth as her caramel skin, as she glided up to his bare-chested form and leaned in. "Well, if you're calling me Dominance now," she chuckled, "perhaps you should be the one filling it." Her laughter abated as she frowned at her choice of words, knowing the ever sharply-tongued Catalyst was fond of twisting her words into innuendo. Let us only hope he is as fond of twisting me in other ways, she thought with a predictably resultant blush, frown swiftly lifting into a smirk equally shy and sly as the two servants returned to her chambers.

One carried two steaming pails, pouring hot water into the bronze tub and racing out to retrieve more from buckets deposited outside. The other began preparing the table, setting down two similarly steaming plates of broiled Tuk'ata meat topped by Ojomian onions with sides of Revwien lettuce and sliced topato. Apollyon backed away from Catalyst, walking backwards towards the table in playful, sauntering steps, and as she sat down in the chair the servant had pulled out for her, the other servant finished filling the bath.

"Thank you," Apollyon smiled kindly up at the servant as a bottle of Anzati bloodwine was set down on the table and uncorked, and her onyx eyes returned to Catalyst as both servants filed out of the chamber, each bowing low as they left. "Well then," Apollyon's smile turned crooked, "this meat looks almost as appealing as yours, if a little more rare." But only a little, she thought, eyes drifting over the blood still drying on Catalyst's cut chest, the gifts of her master's tomb. That smile still adorning her exotic features, she poured a goblet of wine and raised it to quirking lips.

Bellorum, meanwhile, downed a shot of Corellian fire whiskey with considerably less grace, slamming the empty glass down on the bar with a strained sigh and a sputter. "This stuff burns," she gasped, before turning side to her barbarian companion and nudging a shot his way. "But not as much as that plasma torch, I bet," she winked, laughing cruelly in memory of the torture she had visited upon Zul'tar's midriff. Her face straightened as she picked up another shot, one of twelve she had ordered - perhaps foolishly, given the mission they had ahead - for them both.

"It wasn't personal, you know," she said lightly, in the insincere tones of one who most definitely took one's interrogation methods beyond the bounds of the necessary and into the realm of the sadistic. "I had orders from the Triumvirate." Bellorum referred, of course, to the three-pronged leadership body that ruled the Sith Empire, composed of the Emperor himself, his Shadow Hand Anathema, and his Night Herald Insipid.

A sudden crack drew Bellorum's red eyes before she could down her second shot. Even if she had missed Vua's blow, she could not miss the stupid if stupendous spectacle of Zhav'vorsa pounding his chest and howling like the beast he was. "Where is your might?!" he shouted. "Show me!!" Bellorum shook her head. Ridiculous. "Does he forget Dreadwad charged him with a mission?" she asked, referencing the Emperor in her usual disrespectful manner. "I'm going to have to drink to forget such a poor example of leadership," she snorted.

Outside the Cantina, Darth Talon glowered at Robyn and Xirr. Xirr's insistence in sticking by his excuses annoyed her almost as much as the acolyte's whinging, and Talon was of half the mind to tell them to depart at once, that it was better to be killed by the tomb - or the professor - than by Talon herself. But unfortunately, the High Inquisitor simply didn't have the authority to execute a Sith Lord like Xirr, and Talon did not particularly feel like talking to that slime Ermir Marcus to explain why he hadn't received the homework he had assigned.

She broke her gaze, looking off across the courtyard sands towards the walls' gate, where a disturbance appeared to be unfolding. She shrugged. "Fine," she said. "Both of you to your quarters if you want, rest up tonight if you need. But the Emperor himself assigned me your cleansing, Xirr," she looked back at the armoured Sith Lord, "and I will not disappoint him.

"As for what a 'mongrel Sith' is, I would say that is for you to figure out. It's your mind that's at stake. I, for one," she smiled, "don't give a damn." With another shrug, Talon sauntered off, hips swaying, lekku swinging. She made her way towards the entrance to the campus, bidding the portcullis rise with a gesture, taking stock of the scene occurring atop the mountain pass. "What's going on here?" she asked authoritatively, glancing over the three figures - one human male clad in the trappings of a Sith, a female cyborg and a female Cathar - standing over the body of what looked like a Corellian pilot.

"Well, ma'am," the lead Shadow Guard said, "this one," he pointed at Voidwalker, "claims to be a Lord of the Sith. Apparently these lot are Force-sensitive. Well, the ones still standing are," he chuckled.

Talon narrowed her eyes. "You're no Sith Lord," she said after a moment. His signature is nebulous as that of an untrained acolyte, yet there is power there. Raw power. "But nice try. Let me guess, the three of you are clever hopefuls trying to gain admission to the Academy?"

They would be less eager, Talon thought, if they knew what training to be Sith was actually like. The young ones always were full of vim. The experienced ones... Well, the experienced ones were full of more vengeance than vim. "Well hi there, Grindark!" Neoplix grinned maliciously, knees strategically holding the Devaronian down in his bed. "Remember me?"

Grindark held his hands out to his sides, knowing he was positioned at a disadvantage. The disadvantage to being granted his own private quarters in the Temple: his allies were not there in the bunks beside him, ready to leap to his aid. "What are you doing, Neoplix?" Grindark ground out, gasping. "You can't kill me. Unauthorised murders on Temple grounds aren't allowed." They were more frowned upon, even severely frowned upon, than altogether disallowed, but as always when it came to Sith power, escaping the consequences of breaking Temple rules came more down to who you knew than what you knew. "My master would slaughter you!"