The Old Sith Trials

IC: Darth Neoplix
Location: the personal quarters of grindark

Neoplix laughed. Then he paused, taking in a deep breath, breathing in the fear, the absolute terror, and the panic and confusion that leaked from grindark’s every pore. Then his eyes narrowed. He had to stay focused, stay on task, or this may well in disaster. But, even he couldn’t contain himself completely. It was a high almost as strong as the nexus chamber, the feeling of victory in the palm of your hands. Nothing, nothing in the entire world could replicate it.

“What am I doing? I am doing what I should have done long ago. I am righting the wrong, and settling the score. You struck first, and your blood is on your own head.”

He left his foot on grindark’s chest, pressing down with an enormous amount of force, making sure grindark couldn’t rise, and taking plenty of enjoyment along the way. “As for your master... you are not the only one with a master now. The dark lord catalyst has taken me on as his apprentice. Your master is nothing before him.”

He drew his blade from his back, watching as the flames cast flickering shadows across the walls. He looked down into grindark’s eyes, and saw the flames reflected back there, along with the terror and disbelief. “And just as your master is nothing before mine, you are nothing before me!”

He reversed the blade, and brought it straight down into grindark’s groin, slicing off his manhood, and leaving him screaming and writhing. Neoplix took it all it, a slight smile on his face and the flames flickering in his eyes. “When we first met, I let myself fear you. But now, our roles are reversed. Now, I am the wolf. And you? You are nothing but a dickless sheep.”

He stood, walking out of the room, turning off the holorecorder, which had captured everything that transpired. Today... today had been a good day. But tomorrow would be a better one still.

Darth Dreadwar

CHARACTER SHEET

Character Picture:


Character Theme: 

Character Summary

Name: Lylia Stor'mo

Age: 31

Sex: Female

Species: Omwati

Occupation: Smuggler

Height: 5'0"

Weight: 110 lb.

Physical Description: As scrawny as any other female member of her species, with pale blue skin and red feathers on her head, combed downwards. She appears very youthful with an equally elven and birdlike appearance, exotic and yet still able to maintain a look similar to that of near-humans.

Clothing: Usually wears a vest with a low-cut shirt beneath, denim pants, a holster on her hip. Refuses to wear hats or helmets of any kind.

Weapons: DL-44 Blaster, illegally modified. Sonic Screamers.

Description of Abilities: Light on her feet and incredibly intelligent, Lylia is more likely to plan an ambush on her foes than rush in head-on. Her ability to retain information is fascinating, and so her love for literature has made her quite the walking library. She can be clever in conversation and action both. There is also an almost perceivable aura of luck about her, which has helped her win every game of Paazak and Sabaac she's ever played. She is also very quick on the draw with her blaster, though her aim could use a bit of work.

Personality: Lylia comes off as arrogant and loud, believing that she can do anything she sets her mind to regardless of the circumstances. She always has to be the center of attention when in a room, and when she isn't, she will usually try her best to steal the spotlight. But in truth, she is extremely self-conscious, only seeking attention and approval from others because she did not find any in her childhood. It would take a lot to break through her character, however.

Biography: Raised from starship to starship, Lylia’s parents served in the Federation navy. She was never able to stay and make friends, because within the next month her family would be on the move again. She rarely saw her father, and while her mother was around more often, she was still equally as neglected as she was by her father. Her parents were so busy that Lylia believed they didn't want her around, that she was just a nuisance to them. So she fled, stealing a Federation fighter at the age of sixteen and making a hyperspace jump to anywhere but there. She landed on Tatooine, where she found herself in the middle of a slaver raid. Alongside a nine-year-old boy and two Rodian children, Lylia was taken as a slave. She soon found herself among dozens of slaves at the slavers’s main camp. Lylia worked hard for the few months she was a slave, avoiding the gaze of the slavers as she went to prevent any unwanted advances. However, she was comparatively quickly bought out of the slave life by one known as Kubjo the Hutt. She had no idea why he bought her above the others. Perhaps she was just lucky. Though in time she would become one of his best smugglers, and one of the best gamblers in the Outer Rim. A sense of luck seemed to follow her wherever she went, making her drops go off without a hitch, and giving her the best hands in any game of Sabaac. Her pay under Kubjo has kept her around for over a decade in his service, and she is particularly loyal to him.

IC: Darth Helinith
Location: Shit’s fallin’ down like rain dawg


It seemed to happen in slow motion.


She was running, could feel the breath of the army behind her on the back of her neck, and then, even as she was turning with her weapon drawn for her final stand, the wall started tumbling, crashing towards them.

The overwhelming instinct was to immediately drop her lightsaber and raise her hands to cover her head. Absurd to an onlooker perhaps but as a master physical manipulator in the force, there was one thing that Helinith definitely wasn’t concerned about and that was falling rubble. Catching the first piece that threatened to squash her, she stopped it and held it above her head, using it to shield herself from the rest of the flying debris. The only thing that threatened to disturb her concentration was the rising dust which tickled the back of her throat awfully.



Although it felt like an hour, in reality it was less than thirty seconds. Only when she was sure that the avalanche had ended, did she toss aside the debris that she had been using to shield herself and pat herself down to make sure she had all her limbs. She picked up her lightsaber and clipped it to her back.

“Wooohoo!”

She punched the air in delight and then doubled over threatening to cough up a lung at all the dust she’d inhaled. She was covered in the stuff, looking more like an ashen snowman than anything else.



TAGs: Darth Dreadwar, @sinre  

IC: Darth Insipid
Liquefying

Victory was death, often, and perhaps he had epitomised it. The Force sustained his hold on his lightsaber, and his Holocron. The Holocron of Dread Rur.

Reports flooded in; successes; survivals; deaths; casualties. There was an edge of incredulity to matters. Insipid paid it no heed. His eyes found Anathema and then Helinith. He used the Force to animate his mouth as he lay on the stretcher. ‘Well done for returning, I would not have made it without you covering my back.’

The Force was used to lift an eyebrow. ‘Anathema, we’ve just destroyed one of the armies. I’ve also given you the plan to kill the Gorog.’ His annoyance at what was essentially an oversized rancor being connected to his Night Heraldry had passed since Insipid had caused one to die. ‘It strikes me, Triumvir, that you should handle the rest. I do not wish to undermine you - I would apologise for destroying one of the armies without your input. This Holocron is precious to me.’

He levitated his hand.

‘And the Emperor.’

His mouth was moved, his tongue too. ‘Darth Darama and his Yevetha will give you a spearhead if you need it. They usually dominate hand-to-hand combat, and there will be a great deal of that in these rooms and so forth.’

The eyes of Darth Insipid found Darth Helinith. ‘Former apprentice? I need to borrow some of your mental space.’

A connection was extended using the Force. From one soul to another. One ethereal hand offered. I won’t stay for long, my dear. Just until we get back.

Insipid wanted to perform essence transfer on Helinith.

TAG: Darth Dreadwar, @daughterofvader

IC: Darth Helinith
Location: Soon to be difficult to determine

Having finished the business of clearing her lungs to the best of her ability, Helinith pulled herself up again, to begain the difficult business of locating Insipid. This was compounded by the dust that kept falling into her eyes from her hair and in the end, she had to resort to opening her hip flask and splashing the contents onto each of her eyelids in turn. It stung like billy-o and left her sticky, stinking like a cantina floor, but it did work. She used the stickiness to her advantage, plastering her hair straight back on her head so it wouldn't fall in her eyes. It wouldn't be pretty, but it was functional. Finally she took a sip from the flask for good measure before resuming her search.

"Helinith! Where are you? Helinith!"

So it seemed that Anathema was still alive. Helinith followed the sound, clambering up a pile of debris and scree, sliding down the other side to where she found Blondie and the tattered remains of Insipid. She could almost be certain of an air of smugness radiating off of him, even if he was in dire straits. She looked him over, although unsure why she bothered. It was clear that this body was a goner. She tutted and shook her head. "Limbs don't grow on trees you know." 

Back in the temple, everything was still a hive of activity. None of it was particularly important, and Helinith was somewhat lost to the world as a team of medics insisted on at least attempting to revive Insipid's carcass. Stubborn goat was still around, of course. She could feel him puppeteering his body like a marionette- a very disturbing sight. It was only the second time she'd seen him do such a thing- the first time she'd had nightmares for a month afterwards.

But she already knew what was coming. She'd had a feeling for a while and they'd done it at least three times before. Urgh. She downed the contents of her hip flask and waited.

‘Former apprentice? I need to borrow some of your mental space.’

 I won’t stay for long, my dear. Just until we get back.

She sighed.
You owe me. Maybe a master class in essence transfer? Since I'm such a good little host?

She took off a glove and gripped Insipid's hand, beginning to sing.

"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts,
Here they are standing in a row boom boom boom...
Big ones, small ones, some as big as yer head..."



Tags: @sinre , @darthdreadwar

IC: Darth Vassago & Sabba

Alarms blared about the bridge. Through the forward viewport laid a vast expanse of incoming vessels of all various sizes; some looked nearly sentient, with appendages swimming through the void around them.

Sabba looked on in pure wonderment. She’d never laid eyes on such a spectacle in all her life. Nothing she’d heard from any of the Elders on her home planet could have prepared her for the awe-inspiring sight out the viewport. Through her time with her Master, she’d seen various feats she once thought impossible: men turned to ash, distances travelled through literal space and time. Yet the limitless expanses that spread before her, a crimson cosmos, peppered with numerous unknown craft, caused her to marvel unlike anything before. Never in her life did she think she would be among the stars...or beyond them.

The Captain brought the Empress and Vassago up to speed, though he was understandably more focused on the Empress. The Captain hurried through, but before Gederp could give his full report, Vassago found his attention fading.

The Dark Lord’s thoughts became unclear, his mind fuzzy, as if something was obstructing his consciousness. A blanket of white fell over his mind, blinding him and washing out the situation that engulfed the bridge. He felt his sense, his connection to the Force, even, begin to grow darker. He didn’t have the presence of mind to speak, to ask Gederp for a situation report, or to warn Sabba to get back. All functions seemed to cease as the unknown crept forward...

TAG Darth Dreadwar Volshe Triumphant tags.

IC: Nox Talus
The Triumphant, Medbay

As the proximity alarms sounded almost nothing could be heard, luckily the voice of Sulat Xon was only in the head of Nox, so he didn’t actually have to hear anything. Sulat has finally reappeared and was keeping his end of the bargain and helping Nox, by providing a straightforward and yet mysterious answer. "To help her is a simple matter, you need only pray. You saw what happened in the hangar. What those cultists accomplished when they invoked three syllables - a single word. A single name. Typhojem."

I’d probably be a bit more trusting if you weren’t laughing. How do I know this isn’t some trick? Of course I seen, their power seemed to increase as well as went mad, but was that from the prayer alone? I’ve seen the Force do many things, but nothing to that extent. Although I suppose you have no reason to trick me if you wish to be free of your seeming prison. Fine, I’ll do it.

Continuing on his path to Alisha’s bed, we would move past nurses, doctors, and all other medical staff before he was almost to the foot of Alisha’s bed.

How close do I need to be to Alisha before I pray to the cultists God?

As Nox was asking his question to Sulat, he appeared to be on a direct path to Alisha, only being stopped immediately by a boy calling out his name "Nox!" The young man was obviously in a storm of rage upon seeing the former captive Nox, as he brought the edge of his silver lightsaber up to Nox’ throat before continuing on. "I am giving you five seconds to back up, or I'll take your karking head off right here!"

As wave of rage washed over Nox at the threat from the Sword’s lover. His eyes turning a deep red as his rage built and his voice was bold upon opening his mouth. “Look here lover boy, I’m not going anywhere. So I suggest you take your own advice and back up. I’m here to help Alisha. I know what to do to save her. Now you can either argue with me and this can get physical, and you will certainly lose your lover, or you can move out of my way and I can save her life. The choice is your. Now if you’ll be so kind move while I save your little girlfriend, but let’s be clear, I’m doing this for her, not you.”

As Nox finished saying his peace, he dropped down to his knees and closed his eyes. For a moment he wondered if the blade would come to remove his head or would the boy have enough sense or love to possibly trust him. He quickly pushed the thought from his head, he didn’t have time to worry about such things for Alisha’s sake. As he kneeled he looked as if he was in a meditative state before opening his mouth to utter the single name that gave power to the Cultists. The word felt odd even in his head, and stung like venom as he finally spoke the name. “Typhojem”

TAG: Darth Dreadwar Padawan4687

IC: Robyn Shaire
Location: Back "home" in the Temple, Korriban

...the paper was long finished, but at least Lady Talon relented. In her own irritating way... Robyn pressed a hand to her forehead, forcing herself to look anywhere other than the Talon's swaying back end as she sauntered away. She wanted nothing more than to just collapse in her own bed before Xirr announced that they'd be up early the next morning.

"Ugh..." she grumbled, but Xirr was already walking away at a breakneck pace. Once alone, Robyn rolled her eyes as heavily as she could, almost involving her whole head in the motion. Why did she need to go back down into that death trap? Xirr was the one who needed a skull! Was she really expected to be great backup? She rolled her eyes one more time as she moved to her floor... and stopped dead once she reached her own Quarters.

These things, the talismans she scored from the tomb... they were saturated in darkness. "Okay, new problem..." Robyn mused aloud, looking into the blood-red jewel of one of the necklaces, "How the hell am I going to hide these things... I've been lucky so far with the keypad, but once someone senses a mini black hole of energy coming from my room some genius is sure to try breaking in... Kriff!" Robyn slowly cleared off her loot and rested them all on her desk. "Phew..." It felt a little colder without them all on her person.

It was a relief to take Chakran's jacket off though, and Robyn wasted no time flinging it to the furthest corner of her room. Sick... Her stomach turned just looking at it.

She'd need a shower for sure. Once she washed some traces of this kriffing awful day from her skin, maybe then Robyn could devote fresh brainpower to this Talisman puzzle... right now though, she just needed a moment to shut down.

TAG: ...no one? Darth Dreadwar?

IC: Darth Insipid and Darth Helinith C-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-combo!
Location: Z://Sith Citadel/Med Bay/Helinith

There was an air of nonchalance to Helinith, but Insipid knew better. Beneath her facade there was a deep reluctance, which made even Insipid pause. But with a ghostly sigh, he accepted her physical hand in his spectral one, her warmth co-mingling with his cold.

In a short moment, she would feel the shiver beneath her skin travel up to her shoulder, and then push upon her throat, before passing into her spine like a chain that had been soaked in ice, curling around her neck and settling at the base of her skull. Darth Insipid was gentle, and exerted himself minimally as the anchor became solid anew.

He resisted the urge to allow any smugness and create a wisecrack, honouring her individuality even as they became symbiotic - Helinith’s irritating ditty aside.

She shuddered at the icy feeling and dropped the dead hand as soon as she could, pulling her glove back on. But the nice warm feeling from the alcohol was pleasant enough to take the edge off. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as she remembered. Hey ho.

It was weird though, like having a spider crawling under your skin. She had to sit for a moment and let her brain settle, sharing mental space was taxing, no matter how willing you were.


---

The first thing Insipid would hear would be a throbbing beat, vibrating through his head as his eyes seemed to be adjusting, like holoprojector gradually coming into focus. But as the picture became sharper, he would be vaguely aware that there was a lot of bodies dancing moving around him and various beams of lights flashing. A hand gripped him suddenly and pulled him into full focus. The recognisable face of Helinith beamed at him, looking perhaps slightly younger and dressed in a garb that he recognised from her apprenticeship days. Surrounding them was the same face, multiplied possibly sixty to one hundred times, most of them dancing. Some were wearing glowsticks or paint that glimmered, some dressed up in various courtly robes, others in pyjamas, but all of them dancing. Some were really going all out without a care in the world and others looked rather embarrassed. A couple of particularly shy specimens were stood to one side clutching drinks.

The Helinith in front of him was dancing too.

'Welcome back! It’s not changed much.'
The track changed and Helinith turned her head to try and catch the opening bars.

'Urgh, this one’s a downer. Comon, let’s find somewhere better to hang out.'
She grabbed his arm again, pulling him to the side of the dance floor, where Insipid would just about be able to make out the outline of a door, with the silhouette of a stick figure wearing a skirt. Before he could react, they were through into a pleasant smelling bathroom with large mirrors, a row of sinks and for some reason, a hot tub. But Helinith ignored all of this, finally letting go of Insipid’s hand to climb onto the row of sinks and shove her head and shoulders straight into the mirror. It didn’t shatter, of course. This was Helinith’s world and instead it just sort of gave way. The entire bathroom started to fold and change, the toilet stalls folding themselves away into palm trees and grasses, the hot tub stretched infinitely until it was an ocean spanning to the horizon and the floor tiles shrank infinitesimally small until it was just sand beneath their feet. Helinith herself was sitting in a deck chair wearing a large sunhat. Unlike the dance club, the beachfront was empty.

'Much better. I can actually hear myself think. Nothing’s changed much except the water. Don’t go in there, there’s a sando aqua monster swimming around.'


Insipid allowed himself a few moments to settle his features. Instead of the craggy face of the Son, he settled back into his own younger visage, with blue hair and soft, pale skin, a pair of glasses hanging from his nose, with no arms attaching them to his face; a tiny balancing sensor had kept them in place.

He nonetheless winced at the beat, at the noise, at the faces. Such was his discomfort that Insipid allowed his hand to be taken and the younger Helinith - her own mental image of herself - to guide him through.

For a moment Insipid adjusted to the sunshine, and Helinith chatted about the monster in the sea. With an exertion of mental will, a cloud appeared to at least partially obscure the light, so his eyes could adjust. His smile was wan, and for a moment, he was more Aden Kya, the teenage boy, before he was sold into indentured service on Fondor.
'You are not going to make this easy for me, are you?' A chuckle.


He did, however, raise a finger. 'Pick up the Rur Holocron and lightsaber, and we can go. That weapon is my grandmothers, it is important to me, thus.' She probably knew that, but Insipid was often angsty when separated from the blade.

A smile as the breeze whisked through his hair - a memory of hair he now no longer had. 'Ike will be so unhappy about this. He was fond of that body.' He of course referenced his paramour, dutifully in hiding during this Kaggath.

The Force sung with more arrivals to Ziost. His reinforcements, perhaps? Insipid felt a cramp of sorts, rolled his shoulders here and outside, as if popping a joint. Adjusting to her body again. You’d think I’d be used to your shape after, what, three times now?
Ah, memories. It did not occur to wonder how those moments had been for her.

Helinith frowned at the cloud that her former master had conjured up. How very him. She didn't want to think about previous times, particularly the first, when her mind hadn't been at all prepared.

'Holocron, holocron...'

She quickly grabbed it from the dead body and tossed it from hand to hand a couple of times.

'Oooooh. Glowy.' 

But where to stash it?

She pulled out the hip flask again (now empty), but quickly decided that'd be too small, even if she did cut the bottom off. Bother.

She tried it in one of the pockets of her belt and it sat quite happily with the grenades but she still wasn't satisfied and she took an intake of breath (which wasn't her own) just at the sight of it nestled with them.



She lifted Insipid's lightsaber, admiring the hilt for a moment before clipping it to her belt (her own sabers always sat on her back) and as she was adjusting the belt clip, the solution for the holocron suddenly became rather clear.


She glanced around, before removing her cloak and pulling off her chest armour. Without the cloak and armour, the sheer amount of weapons she had strapped to her would quickly become apparent to anyone watching, which was not quite deliberate but perhaps it would quickly deter any foolish underling from watching what was about to happen next. She tossed the holocron one final time, before catching it and shoving it down the neck of her jumpsuit. She adjusted the position with her hands, moving it down until it sat between her breasts fairly comfortably. She put her armour back on, finding to her satisfaction that, with the removal of a piece of foam padding, it fitted well and her movement wasn't impeded. Excellent.



'Okay. Well if Ike is so fond of that body, he can go and get you a new one. The sooner the better.'

She bristled a little. She didn't mind Ike, he was okay, but she did feel he was one of many factors that had left her less busy and a little lonely around the temple recently. Maybe that made this situation an advantage.

'Oh yes, kidnap a Sith Lord inside your own head, there's not one million ways that can go wrong.' She rolled her eyes at herself just for thinking it. Stupid. No, no better to just get this over and done with. Although, that did raise some interesting possibilities.

She sat up on the deckchair, suddenly intrigued.

'Would that be technically possible though? I can't see why it wouldn't. It'd be fascinating to try with someone who has just learnt how to essence transfer. Rather than trying to boot them out, somehow capturing them inside your mind.' She sat back and sucked on the straw of a cocktail that appeared in her hand. This was a genuine theoretical interest now; there was no malice intended, and Insipid would be able to pick that up.

Insipid managed to control about 10% of his wince and panic when she placed the Holocron with her grenades, and then was about 10% happy with where it ended up.



'At least it’s snug, I guess' Insipid said with a smirk. He took a deckchair.



‘Oh, alright. I’ll teach you. But not here, in a battle zone. Before I move on to the next clone I have stashed away.’ There was one in his bedchamber on Korriban but he’d rather save that for a more terminal and personal moment. He’d go for one of the backup ones. Perhaps the one near Fhost, but that’d be a trip.



‘Now, do we do anymore heavy lifting for Anathema or do we let her regain some honour?’ Insipid stretched out, and concocted a rum-gin with lime to enjoy, appearing on a table with another between them.



‘I mean we could hunt down this Haretisch fellow but he may be useful later, and Anathema might be annoyed. She’s not positively awful but she’s not going to do you any favours either.’ A sniff. ‘Probably think we’re saying a lovers goodbye, knowing the old hag.’

Helinith choked on her own drink at the suggestion.

'I hope not.

Still, I think we should check in with her, I'm lower rank so I guess technically that means I'm under her command, now you're dead and all.
She might think I'm deserting otherwise. But we could say that we're- I mean I'm going back to Korriban give a report or something. Now that you're dead. Ohhh what does that mean now for the ruling three?'

She cricked her neck and stretched.

"Okay, let's go find out who wants to make use of me."
She skipped off after the direction Blondie last took, singing aloud.
"Roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch..."

TAG: Darth Dreadwar,

IC: Darth Solus
Solus watched the hint of sorrow and understanding creep across Nostrem’s face. The Lord before him finally seeming to understand the mission the two Sith were on. Solus bowed his head lightly and placed his right first over his left breast.

“We must take this path if we are to find our direction, Lord Nostrem. I do in fact possess the power you speak of. How do we perform this task, my Lord?”

Solus’ respect and gratitude filled his voice. So, did the hint of his mission focus. The task laid before him now taking his full attention. With that consideration Solus looked toward what they had already been through in the tower. Traps. Dangers. Tricks. Is Nostrem leading us to despair? Nostrem’s change of heart fit well. His willingness to help more from the Sith lords lack of desire to help and empire, but was it just a trick? The next questions seemed clear.

“Lord Nostrem, if I may ask. If we do not have a T3 unit how do we remove the banks and also are there any traps we should be made aware of leading up to the tower?”

Deleritas shifted anxiously, obviously wanting to move to the next stage. In the wake of the new information that Nostrem had graciously bestowed upon them Solus too found himself excited to continue. The mission was far from over. The destination still just out of sight, but every small piece brought it closer. Solus nodded to Deleritas. His apprentice was ever ready for action and that was just one more reason that Solus had taken him under his wing.

“Deleritas. Move to the doors. When Lord Nostrem gives us the cue be ready to step inside.”