elu
Citizen
Posts: 17 
Likes: 22
|
Post by elu on Apr 19, 2017 3:05:25 GMT -5
Darth Persevus IC:~Dungeons, Cathedral of Holy Jedi Spirits, Odessen~It appeared the reptile was already on point concerning the ysalamiri. This was good. Of course, his revealing of his name amidst the chewing…was a little hard to discern. It took a few seconds but he was able to puzzle it out. Dy'nonik'iss. Odd name, but who was he to judge? Ignoring the remainder of the bloody carnage unfolding, he watched as the two of them then sprang into the orders he had given out. Good, the less convincing needed, the better. It was all about timing. Naturally it didn't take long before three of the Ordu Aspectu had come running to investigate. Gleaming daggers in hand and Force whirling in strength about them. "Halt, dealers of iniquity! Back to your cell, or in the name of the Force we will deliver you to the netherworld!"However Kint responded viciously, immediately, and efficiently. Even ending with a quip before flinging his knife at the last jailor. So much for their presence in the Force as it all amounted to nothing against just one of them. Force Lightning had been shown too, which meant this ' Gorzan' had often dabbled in the Dark Side. Ah yes, Persevus began to feel it now from him. His senses and power beginning to return. Yet he did not display any abilities, not that the brutish one gave them much time to react. But that was all well and good as he hadn't planned to anyway. Not currently. The more Kint and Dy'nonik'iss could deal with on their own as they made their way out. The better. "Finish him," he simply nodded toward the man. "I care not who does it. We need to move for the exit." All in good time. Power and wisdom to those who wait and those who plan.As far as the Sith was concerned, he was in position exactly where he wanted to be. Tag: Darth Dreadwar, gorzan
|
|
Padawan4687
Imperial Intelligence
.: Empress' Sword / Director of Intelligence
Posts: 133 
Likes: 112
|
Post by Padawan4687 on Apr 20, 2017 0:36:21 GMT -5
IC: Robyn Shaire
Location: Approaching Dead City, DreshdaeSeeing poor Apollyon on the ground helpless after such a grievous wound brought up thoughts on the surface of how Robyn might be able to help. Beneath that though, she was both savoring a dark sense of satisfaction at her agony, and trying to beat back guilt as even as deep growls and snarls echoed around her. Thank the Force it was just one of the tuk'ata beasts that had set it's sights on her! She took several steps backward as the beast barked and extended a pair of tendrils in the air. Venomous tendrils. And fangs for teeth. Of course. Robyn thought with a few curses tacked on, Can't let them touch me, can't let anything touch me! With every nonverbal word she ducked and dodged in tandem with her lightsaber weaving to block and avoid the blows. Soon enough, the tuk'ata sprang and both its stingers were going for her at two vastly different angles. Too close together to just sidestep, and too far apart to block with my lightsaber...what can I do?!The cart! Robyn shut her eyes and desperately hunted for it, seizing it with the Force. Without any time to even think, she launched it at full speed for the charging hellhound's head with a yell. She could have laughed as the weaponized hovercart met its mark and sent the already airborne beast spinning. "That cart's more helpful than I thought..." she thought aloud as the tuk'ata soundly smacked against the stones. It lay winded, and vigorously started shaking it's head. Robyn couldn't turn her attention away then, even for a moment to get her breath back. She'd seen what distractions could do, even if these "distractions" were the sounds of clashing and pained screaming from the other Sith. With her eyes still shut, Robyn extended both hands and pushed down with all of her telekinetic might against the tuk'ata's body. "Oh no you don't!" The beast thrashed furiously, just barely held down. Robyn gritted her teeth, and gripped her lightsaber just a bit tighter. "You're not getting up, monster!" She switched the blade off and rushed towards the beast, quickly re-igniting it just under it's nose. A pair of jaws flew open to roar in pain as the violet beam slowly cut through the beast's tough skin, before passing through them both. Robyn didn't know if her blade struck brain, nor did she care. Instead, she threw the remaining power she had after fighting to keep the beast down, into pushing it away from her. TAG: Darth Catalyst , Darth Dreadwar , Volshe
|
|
Shira
Administrator 
.: Empress' Hand
Posts: 135
Likes: 114
|
Post by Shira on Apr 23, 2017 16:04:45 GMT -5
IC: Shira A’dola
Commander quarters aboard The Triumphant
Shira shuddered at the thing’s touch, retreating as far as the limited space of the cabin would allow, desperately attempting to avoid another chance for physical contact. The imprint of feeling its fingers left on her thigh felt wrong and she felt tainted by its caress.
The light wavered in the room as the blade of her lightsaber flickered in time to her trembling. Any attempt to cease her shivering was futile and she had broken into a cold sweat. She couldn’t read this monster, couldn’t delve her way into its mind and this was just as wrong as the very existence of the abomination.
It leapt for her and Shira yelped, falling to the floor and rolling to the side. Her lightsaber struck out behind her, but fear made her clumsy. It was more a distressed attempt to keep the distance between them than any organised aim for offence. She hastily regained her upright footing and turned to face her opponent again, trying to call on her training through the panic in her mind. Securing footing and keeping her blade pointed at whatever-it-was, she called on the Force for it’s calming presence through the fog of dark wrongness that enveloped her.
Casting a firm strand of the Force towards the atrocity, she brought to bear the full force of her mental abilities, trying to bear down on whatever consciousness she could find.
“Answer me. That’s an order. Who are you? What are you doing on board my ship?”
TAG: Darth Dreadwar
|
|
Padawan4687
Imperial Intelligence
.: Empress' Sword / Director of Intelligence
Posts: 133
Likes: 112
|
Post by Padawan4687 on Apr 23, 2017 22:19:21 GMT -5
IC: Alisha Tano
Location: The Bridge of The TriumphantThe datapad still held most of Alisha's attention, though at the back of her head she noted the uncharacteristic silence from the Admiral. Just before she could up to ask if he'd heard her, a new color on-screen forced her eyes back down again. The camera feed went completely black, as though something shattered the lens...almost every other camera in the damned hangar followed suit moments later! Damn! The Sith must have spotted them! At the top of the new blackness on-screen came bold and yellow lettering: ALERT: COMMAND TRANSFERRED TO AUXILIARY BRIDGE."Command transfer? What the-- how?!" Alisha thought aloud, finally lifting her eyes. "A transfer isn't supposed to happen unless--” Both her voice and her thoughts went dead silent, as though a vacuum sucked the words away. "Un...less...!" All of her senses started warring for her attention. The thick and heavy stench of blood wafted up to her first, coming from where Admiral Tharsus had just been standing. Only, now he was no longer standing. He lay on the ground with a gaping hole in his chest as though someone thrown a devastating punch straight through him. The red liquid that gave him life was now spattered across the floor in a sickening puddle that slowly expanded. The familiar black cloud in her mind's eye came second, but that only ever occurred during the strange pyramid ship attacks...when a high number of people were lost at once? Somehow, Alisha now stood alone in the Hangar, surrounded by the bodies of who used to be her living and breathing crewmen just seconds before. No, she wasn't alone. Not completely. She was trapped in a room with a silent killer that was apparently invisible through the Force, behind her. Time slowed to a crawl and Alisha's throat began to tighten, as though she was stuck in a strangle-hold. Nothing was there, but she just couldn't find enough air. The temperature on the Bridge seemed to plummet as she stood there completely frozen and shivering in what she hoped was an imagined cold. Her heartbeat was racing to the point of pain in her chest. Everyone was dead, just like that! ...and she didn't see, hear, or even sense anything coming. Again! She had been completely helpless...and whatever stole the lives of the Bridge crewmembers could just as easily have taken hers too and she would have been just as helpless now as she was years ago-- NO! Alisha forced a deep breath just before her Swordlike composure crumbled away completely, desperately fighting to shut down the thought. I am not 15 years old anymore! Don’t force me back there! she mentally shouted, forcing another breath in, I can’t go back! I won’t! Her body still refused to move, so she slowly extended her consciousness again. The killer, at least, what had to be the killer, stood a short distance behind her. She still couldn't sense a thing besides the lingering deaths, but as she mentally stared at the being, she couldn't detect the shape of a human, or of any sort of being she'd encountered before. It's... not... humanoid? What are you then?! Only then did she dare to crane her neck. Her blood ran cold in that instant, because that thing she saw in the corner of her eye was the furthest thing from humanoid! It looked like nothing but long and groping fingers attached to a palm of a torso. And a face...if one could call where it's eyes and gaping mouth of teeth were placed a face! It simply looked wrong. All wrong! Monster! Alisha didn't know or care what to call the thing that managed to breeze through the Bridge and murder her entire crew, and she let out a single muted gasp. Two...fingers?! An arm? It was giving her a headache just to try and discern what limb was extending for her throat right that instant! Alisha screamed and almost fell backwards to avoid the approaching... pair of fingertips? The cold feeling persistently clung to her, and for a few seconds she was almost convinced that she was the only one left alive on this behemoth of a ship. What if this crime against nature didn’t just decimate the Bridge, but every other being on board?! The Hangar had that same cloud of darkness just before the cameras were lost too! She quickly rolled over, anything to get some distance between her and the monster with it’s creeping limbs and digits. Just think, think! She could still sense many Bonds through this choking haze of panic, which meant people were still alive. Alisha desperately reached out for the strongest one in her mindscape, and her lightsaber hilt in the physical world. A wordless cry for help that she could only hope would break through her Mentor’s sleep. Once she got back to her feet Alisha ignited her lightsaber and defensively held it. She glared daggers at the creature and sharply demanded, “What the hell are you and how did you get on board my ship?!” TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Shira ,
|
|
|
|
Post by Darth Dreadwar on Apr 28, 2017 3:09:03 GMT -5
IC: Dy'nonik'issCathedral of the Holy Jedi Spirits, OdessenIf Dy'nonik'iss had eyebrows, they would have crawled into the crimson crests above in surprise. As it was, his reptilian eyes remained still and dispassionate as Kint Dranlor unleashed his fury upon the monks. So much for their luminescent power in the Force. This Gorzan was truly formidable, to slay them with such ease. Persevus, however, seemed content to hang back. Once again, familiarity with the role of command seemed to effortlessly bleed into his tone, as he flippantly instructed the death of the jailor. "I do not care who does it." Very well.A sickle claw flashed in the dungeons' gloom, and the jailor fell to the stone with a wet thud, his neck parted more thoroughly than the Scarlet Sea in the Iktotchi legend of the Prophet. Dy'nonik'iss tail tail flicked as he stepped gingerly over his latest kill. Clearly the monk's Mother Force had not favoured him. The raptor led the trio down stairs and around twists and bends in unforgiving stone passageway, retracing the steps from his sharp memory until the exit was located. A swish of his bird-like wrist parted the doors, and revealed what was beyond. The dungeons had been carved into a sheer cliff face, the exit a hole in the side of an internal chasm that was illuminated by dawn sunlight shining through a vast ceiling of transparisteel a hundred feet above. The other side of the seeming canyon appeared to be a vertically-stacked city of corridors and balconies, the rest of the gargantuan Cathedral. By the chanting emanating from the honeycombed tunnels beyond, the trio were in luck - the majority of the Cathedral's inhabitants were likely meditating at Morning Prostration. Indeed, they had encountered no guards or monks since the first three; an outside observer might wonder if a Sith Lord's mental powers were at work, guiding potential enemies away from their route... and from the chasm. In the midst of it, sprouting from a stream a hundred feet below, was a single pillar of marble crowned with Terenta ivory. And atop the pillar floated a fist-sized diamond of gold and rusty red. The Celestial Holocron. Dy'nonik'iss trailed a forked tongue along scaly lips as he stepped out onto the short ledge beyond the doorway. There was no bridge to the other side, only the most perilous-looking stair cleaving to the cliffside of a wall leading from the right side of the ledge down to the bottom of the rift, and no obvious way to the pillar and the treasure it held aloft some fifty feet across from them. And this is where their cooperation got... complicated. After all, there were three of them, and only one Holocron. "So two questions," Dy'nonik'iss hissed to his companions. "How do we retrieve the holocron, and who gets it?" The answer to the former seemed almost too obvious, something he trusted Kint and Persevus would understand to likely indicate a trap. But the latter was perhaps an even trickier question. TAG: gorzan, elu--- IC: Darth Dreadwar and Darth TalonThroneroom, Sith Temple, Korriban"I encountered nothing that has not been with me for many years," Xirr said, the flippancy of his tone entirely dismissing the magnitude of his words. "Though, after long enough, one learns to brush off the voices in one's head, the creeping whispers that seem to plague us all, pushing us onward...arguably, onward to greatness." Silence was his reply. Lady Avaris was carefully thinking of her answer to Dreadwar's puzzle, and the Emperor himself said nothing, seconds passing with only the occasional drip breaking the stillness of the cavern's gloom. Finally, the lethal blackness leeched insidious whisper into the throne room again. "I assure you, Lord Xirr," the Emperor's hiss seemed slightly aghast, "such voices do not plague us all." The Jedi thought the Sith mad, but even they were not of tbe opinion the Sith were driven by auditory hallucinations. Then again, Dreadwar found it exceedingly doubtful that the whispers Xirr had so innocuously described were indicative of anything so benign as insanity. That ghostly wind whistled through the chamber once more, and Darth Dreadwar pointed at Xirr. "Talon, you must cleanse him at once!" Urgency warped the Dread Lord's sibilance, an urgency that made Talon leap into action, the lithesome Twi'lek bounding towards the Sith Master and pulling him towards the exit. "Hurry, Xirr!" No purr was present in her voice, as she raced out into the receiving hall. "We must perform Syn's sacrifice of ritual cleansing!" Those well-educated in the arcane would know the rite, but only because Sith teachers liked to make an example of it of a supposedly useless ritual of purification that accomplished nothing, warning students against confusing genuine ancient magic for merely the extinct Sith species' baptismal superstition. The Sacrifice of Ritual Cleansing, detailed in scrolls found in the Mongrel Altar by primordial Dark Lady Sorzus Syn, had allegedly been created by the Sith King Wyyrmuk as a countermeasure against demonic possession. "We need the entrails of a Tuk'ata, the bone of a mongrel Sith and... the blood of a virgin..." Kark!Peace is a lie, there is only passion may have been the wisdom of the ages, but it was not exactly an instruction of celibacy, and as such there were very few maidens untouched by passion in the Order's cloisters. Talon had never actually performed the ritual, given that it was utterly archaic, and sounded like an ineffectual cliche dreamed up by a dark fantasy novelist on Corellia, but Dreadwar had filled her in on its actual importance as soon as she had become High Inquisitor. It was not superstition. Demons were real, and they were red, and they were terrifying. Talon spun towards Xirr on her boot's heel. "Tell me," she snapped, worry shining in her eyes. "Where the kriff we might find those things in a place like this, and secondly..." She swallowed, her voice dropping to a fervent whisper. "Have you ever, in some forgotten scroll or some chicken-scratch of a tomb inscription or in these whispers you hear... Ever, ever heard the name... Typhojem?" The torches outside the throne room flickered in disturbance. Inside the throne room, Avaris was offering her postulation in answer. “It gave him the ultimate control,” she was saying, referring to Bane. “He did not have to answer to any other Sith and he only had to face one other Sith near as powerful as him. The great secrets could remain easily protected and the great power is only threatened by one as well. With mistakes these can both become fatal flaws but in the right hands they enable unlimited power.” The cowl turned to regard her. Darth Dreadwar paused, as if distracted, before the brooding darkness gathered its thoughts again. "I do not believe the answer to be so simple," he returned. "I am the fourth Sith Emperor," grandiosity had returned to the rasp, "after Darth Krayt, after Darth Sidious and after the first... Darth Vitiate." The Dread Emperor placed his gauntleted hands behind his back as he turned to glacially pace back and forth upon the dais, as if offering a lecture. "Darth Vitiate devoured the entire world of Nathema to become immortal, learning the arts of transferring his essence between host bodies from Andeddu's Holocron of Heresies. He reigned openly as the Immortal Emperor, inviting Sith to attempt to ferret out the secrets of his millennium-long rule. He was killed, of course, but the Jedi who killed him knew to beware his resurrection in a new body... And sure enough, he returned under the guise of Valkorion. And he was killed again. And returned again. But this time, determined to undo his immortality, his enemies dug deep into the lore, discovering a holocron that would allow them to resist his efforts at possession. When Valkorion attempted to transfer his spirit to a new host recorded in history only as The Outlander, his quarry was ready for him - and after a prolonged mental battle, Valkorion lost... his spirit lost to Chaos. Annihilated for all time." Darth Dreadwar resumed deathly stillness, peering down from Avaris where he stood. It was as if he was daring Avaris to question, even in her thoughts, whether his own immortality was similarly vulnerable. "Suppose you are a Sith who has also learned essence transference from Andeddu's Holocron," the Emperor continued. "Suppose you are a Sith of utmost cunning, who had learned of Vitiate in Revan's own Holocron. Suppose you realise the flaws in Vitiate's method; you realise that if you are brazen in displaying your immortality, that if your mortal vessel is killed Jedi enemies or Sith rivals will be expecting your return, and seek to discover means to truly vanquish you forever. The obvious solution to this problem, a solution Darth Bane worked out, was simply to keep one's mastery of essence transfer a secret. To feign death when one's mortal vessel dies, so that no one attempts to negate your immortality, content in the permanency of your destruction. But of course, if Bane had existed in an Empire of Sith, they would have become familiar with his signature in the Force - much as Darth Marr identified Vitiate, reborn as Valkorion. And so Bane devised the Rule of Two, raising his apprentice to kill him, and then transferring his spirit to Zannah when she killed him. And of course, he did not reveal his survival to the next dynasty, instead telling Darth Cognus he was verily Zannah. And so on it went, the apprentice killing the master and then literally becoming the master, culminating in Darth Bane's latest and greatest guise: Palpatine. And this is why Palpatine had the match of Yoda, a Jedi Grand Master of nine hundred years. This is why Palpatine was nigh as powerful as Vitiate, a millennium-old Dark Lord empowered by his consumption of an entire planet. For Palpatine was Plagueis, Palpatine was Tenebrous, Palpatine was Ramage and Vectivus and all of them through Bane, and he had devoured Ruusan much as Vitiate had devoured Nathema, the thought bomb he tricked Kaan into using an identical ritual that held a much more nefarious purpose than merely to destroy the Brotherhood of Darkness." Darth Dreadwar did not reveal the reason behind his certainty, of course, as to why he believed the thought bomb to be the same ritual as that performed on Nathema. He knew because he had created the ritual. Vitiate had been a reclusive scholar, but he had not devised the rite by original principles. No, he had merely found it, the legacy of Nilrebmah. For two millennia before Vitiate's time, the planets of Ambria and Nilrebmah had been cleansed of life by two instances of Sith ritual. The Witch-Queen of Ambria had been destroyed body and soul by her attempt, but Ku'ar Danar, Dread-King of Nilrebmah, had been liberated only from his flesh. And now he stood before Avaris, seven thousand years since ridding himself of the mortal coil, an undying wraith of pure darkness. "Of course, it is just a theory," an invisible smile seemed to crease the rumbling of Dreadwar's otherworldly voice. "But if the theory is true, and you know me to be twice the genius of Bane... Then tell me, why do I so obviously advertise my station beyond death's reach?" He wagged a chastising finger. "That is not a riddle for you to answer, Avaris, at least not aloud... But it is a threat. Put away foolish thoughts of your sect ever coming to rule over the Empire, for know that I am so confident in my eternal undeath that I need not skulk behind false masks, and that for one such as I to prioritise the small enjoyment of being feared as an immortal over the risk of its secrets being uncovered must mean I am surely, truly invulnerable. Do you understand, child?" TAG: avaris, @xirr --- Saliva and blood sprayed into the air as the two slavering beasts roared at each other in rabid rage. Catalyst's trick had worked too well; the one had impaled the other's ribcage, pulling coils of intestines loose as it ripped out its horn. Catalyst's lightsaber stung its back, leaving a shallow gouge in blackened skin, but the Tuk'ata was now entirely concentrating its effort on the companion it had just unwittingly gored, who was now frothing with bestial hate as it swiped with its viciously clawed paw and attacked with a furiously snapping maw. Even while trailing copious amounts of blood and offal, the wounded Tuk'ata was swift in its vengeance, its teeth finding purchase in its sibling's neck and promptly ripping its throat out. No sooner had it removed its slumping brother's trachea, the once-blueish Tuk'ata, its entire side and underbelly now dyed scarlet, leaped towards Catalyst. But it was badly injured, and its skin, a leathery carapace alchemically modified for resistance towards lightsabers, was left split. Vulnerable. Still, Catalyst would be in little better shape. The slain Tuk'ata's barbed tail had whipped his own abdomen, and already a deadly toxin was mingling with the crimson of his blood. It was an old poison, devised by whichever wicked mind had dreamt up the Tuk'ata, and Catalyst's dark heart had already pumped it through thornbushes of veins and arteries to afflict every organ. In ten minutes or so, he would surely be dead. His potential saviour, the only one in the group to have mastered the healing arts, was struggling to even cast Force Lightning. The electricity that flowed from her palm merely skittered over the Tuk'ata's skin, as if the Force itself flinched away from the hound's loathsome presence. But stray forks traced along its gums, and the animal yelped, pawing at its own face as the momentum of its leap was arrested in much the same way as a kath pup with sand in its eyes might. Shaking its head, the Tuk'ata advanced more cautiously. The other's leap had not been similarly repelled. Its mouth sank straight into the knife in Viscretus' hand. Or perhaps more accurately, the knife sank into it. The knife Viscretus had chosen had been covered in dried Tuk'ata blood, and the Sith Lady had evidently deduced that this meant it was capable of piercing the hounds' hide; indeed, the hunting knife was reinforced by Sith alchemy much like the Dark Lords' lightsaber-resistant swords of old, and it pierced the beast like it were made of butter, through the top of its mouth straight into the brain. The beast drooled limply, its mouth closing slowly around the knife, while the other whipped its tail towards Viscretus' leg in a measured probe of her defenses. The Tuk'ata assaulting Robyn, meanwhile, was only an older cub, which meant it had not yet honed the near-immunity to Force powers that adult hounds possessed. Robyn was thus extremely lucky, although perhaps she didn't know it. But it was not luck alone that was on her said. The moment Robyn felt dark satisfaction at Apollyon's pain, sadistic sentiment she had scarcely felt before, the floodgates of the Force opened. Pure, unadulterated power suffused her, greater than she had ever felt in her life, as if Korriban had sensed her thought and imparted the fullness of its ancient aura. The raw superiority of the dark side seemed unquestionable, heady euphoria filling her with pleasure greater than the most potent spice, imbuing her with a sense of invulnerable power; she could almost see the stars of the galaxy, with the undeniable feeling that she could smite down any foe with deific wrath. She willed the Tuk'ata to fly and the Force quaked in answer, violating the stubborn alchemy woven in its skin. Still large, the subadult hound kicked up a cloud of dust as it flew away from Robyn, smacking into a boulder with a wet crunch. Ribs poked through its skin, but produced no whine of pain. The beast was already dead courtesy of Robyn's lightsaber, having not even lived to its first mating season - which was but one week away. Its last thought had been of that gorgeous beige-skinned female with the massive tusks that had wagged her tail at him a few days before, who he promised to himself would one day bear his litter... Then again, that fine beige-skinned hound wouldn't have born anyone's litter anyway, as it was sniffing around the Morthi on the other side of Dreshdae when its engines exploded. The twins, having been tardy in making it to the cockpit to deal with the alert regarding critical sublight engine malfunction, had not regulated the wildly oscillating power drain and surge in time. Fire streamed out of the ship's aft in a violent plume, leaving the unlucky Tuk'ata a scorched skeleton with odd strings of roasted flesh, and leaving the Morthi in dire straits as it fell forward, its nose burying into the sand as the entire back-half of the vessel caught fire and began to trail smoke into Korriban's sky. It was already visible from a mile away, and the boom of the explosion was faintly audible by the canine-embattled Sith. Scionica and Kevala had just lost the chance of a surprise attack. TAG: Volshe, Shira, @catalyst, Padawan4687
|
|
Darth Catalyst
Citizen
Dark Lord Immortalis & High Inquisitor
.: Chaos and Cunning
Handling the Hand
Posts: 248
Likes: 276
|
Post by Darth Catalyst on Apr 28, 2017 12:00:37 GMT -5
IC Lord Catalyst Nearing Dreshdae: Korriban
Perfect. Catalyst’s plan had worked flawlessly. Better than he had hoped in fact. He watched with amusement as the gored hound viciously tore apart its aggressor’s neck. Now the hound turned to face him, the gaping wound in its side bleeding profusely. Wonderful, an opening. He raised his saber and felt the wound in his side flare with pain. Krif, an opening. He could feel the Tuk’ata venom working quickly through his system, draining his strength and dulling his reflexes. This suddenly became much more difficult. He switched off his saberstaff and with his off hand tauntingly beckoned the beast forward. He knew it would attack in a bloodied frenzy. He just watched it kill its ally without any further thought. These were still animals, no matter how much cognitive reasoning they displayed. And true to its form, the Tuk’ata leapt forward, teeth bared to show Catalyst exactly what it had done to its mate. Catalyst waited until the hound was practically on top of him, then sidestepped at the last minute, using the opening to plunge his hilt deep into the wound of the hound, parallel to its spine.
He ignited his blades and let go.
The outer hide of a standard Tuk’ata was nearly impervious to the blade of a lightsaber, betraying weaknesses in only a few key areas like the underbelly. The inside however did not share the same resistance. Catalyst grinned as one of the burning blades protruded from the Tuk’ata’s mouth and the other from beneath the base of its tail. “Heh, Tuk’ata kebab...” These were the last words that came through Catalyst’s mouth before the darkness creeping at the edge of his vision took hold. His helmet cracked against the ground and blood swirled with venom continued to escape the wound in his abdomen as he lay powerless to the fast acting toxin in his system.
TAG: Padawan4687, Darth Dreadwar, Volshe
|
|
|
|
Post by Darth Dreadwar on Apr 29, 2017 21:30:41 GMT -5
IC: Shira's very happy friendHer bedchambers, the Triumphant The incessant buzzing grew louder in Shira's ears as her silver lightsaber flashed, seeking purchase in the dark wet flesh. Her attack, clumsy as it was, bit the thing's side, drawing forth a splattering of black blood that bubbled on the cold deck like ectoplasmic tar. The monster whined through gnashing teeth, a cry strangled mid-utterance by orgasmic fits of epilepsy, but its insane throes, holding ebonic claws to its disemboweled abdomen, only exacerbated the flow of fluid. The stench of spoiled milk fouled the air, as the pool of blood expanded like a puddle of oil fed by a leak in the speeder's tank. "Answer me," the full extent of the Imperial Knight's mental prowess suffused her voice. "That’s an order. Who are you? What are you doing on board my ship?” The thing's amorphous cranium shuddered and tilted. It did not resist her mental probe, perhaps because it could not... Or perhaps that should have been Shira's first clue. Its aura in the Force was blacker than the pitch spilling upon the floor, but it was not the aura of a dark-side user. Indeed, the aura was merely the peripheral tinge of... Nothingness. Not light, not grey, not dark, but an utter absence of the Force, reality itself recoiling in horror from the weeping gash in its fabric. Shira's mind fell inexorably to the pull of the void, like a doomed freighter caught beyond the event horizon of The Maw. The Lord of Affliction answered her question. The child who drew the monster before her answering an ant, before it crushed her underfoot. I AM THE DESOLATE ONE. I AM DOING YOUR DEATH. Imagery flashed in her mind's eye behind a rictus grin of teeth, flashes of horror beyond her grasp that seared their imprints upon her retinas, or she would not have comprehended them at all. A dark orb that raced toward her, revealing a planet of black oceans, a thousand limbs breaching the surface as if all its inhabitants were desperately scrabbling for a scribbling of land that never was. Cries of a million dead, echoing hunger and pain forever. An old woman's voice, croaking in blood-lit chambers, FRINGES OF THE ANCIENT SITH EMPIRE, WHERE THE TRUE SITH WAIT FOR US, IN THE DARK... The mournful ghost of a man, speaking in sepulchral tones of regret, WE WERE NOT THE FIRST TO FALL TO THE DARK SIDE, BUT WE HAD MORE POWER. OUR POWER CAME FROM... ELSEWHERE. A vast towering space station, hoovering up the plasma of a star like a vac unit. Red-skinned demons with squamous tentacles, writhing in pain under the fiery gaze of a great lidless eye. TRUE SITH DIED CENTURIES AGO... A blind crone caressed Shira's face. YOU ARE NOT A JEDI. NOT TRULY. AND IT IS FOR THAT... THAT I LOVE YOU. The vision left her. And so had the monster, as if it had merely been a ghastly apparition of paralysed sleep. Only the tar it bled remained on the floor as a sign of its horrific reality, unnatural rivulets flowing towards her feet, defying gravity to climb the far wall, trickling beneath her bed, reaching for the shut doors of the exit... or rather, where the exit had been. It was as if the metal had wholly melted into the surrounding bulkhead, leaving not even the trace outline of where the entryway had been in the wall. The Force did not scream with danger, but the mind-splintering buzzing had not abated. TAG: Shira--- IC: Alisha's quiet friendBridge of the Triumphant Alisha's scrambling had bought her physical distance between her and the shadow slayer, but its creeping fingers reached out and impossibly snipped the mental connection between the Sword and Hand. NO ONE WILL SAVE YOU, implied its hundred fingers as they wagged in chastisement, causing the entire thing to shudder and sway like the fronds of a palm tree. Its vertically situated mouth seemed to giggle, but no sound came forth. Its shaking sideways mouth opened wider, the entire cranium splitting as the mockery of jaws seemed to unhinge. It would be appropriate to say it vomited black tar at her, if it wasn't for the fact the charcoal blood was pouring out of the ever-growing rift in its skull, creating a stream of projectile pestilence aiming straight for the vulnerable orifice of Alisha's open mouth as the Empress' Sword spoke in sharp demand. That was the answer to her question. Tag: Padawan4687--- IC: Blessed ToxmalbLeaving the hangar of the Triumphant The ancient Sorcerer reached out with his mind, letting his own perceptions trace along the decks of the gargantuan vessel. Hypnos was right; only one light shone from the bridge that protruded from the rear of the Dreadnaught's superstructure. Clearly, the Shadow Slayers had already penetrated the upper echelons of the ship's apparatus, but there remained a cluster of life deep in the bowels. But like the mythic Abeloth, cutting off one head would only result in another sprouting elsewhere; who knew whether there existed a tertiary bridge, if the second was compromised? Empress Volshe, after all, was known to be excessive in her paranoia and cunning, and undoubtedly such over-preparedness suffused the design of her flagship. Hypnos was wise in picking the engines as their target, and cleverer still in his defeat of the Imperial Jedi, destroying most of his brain to overcome Force-sensitives' frequent resistance to the technovirus' lobotomy. Toxmalb nodded in admiration as he followed the ambling droid, tar-frothing ghouls following their war leader to the engine room. More dead already preceded them, he knew, so it was of little surprise to Toxmalb to only encounter gutted corpses of crewmen and Stormtroopers on their way. The boarding party met no resistance, and soon enough they had arrived at the turbotrain that provided quick transportation through the mammoth Star Destroyer. By now, alarms were sounding throughout the ship, the boarding station flashing siren-scarlet from lights that bathed the area in bloody effulgence. Several Stormtroopers stood atop the carriage, firing desperately at the growing swarm that clawed at them from beneath. Toxmalb screamed, directing a Force-born wave of sonic power towards the unfortunate soldiers, and the Stormtroopers clutched at their helmets, as if futilely attempting to stem the flow of blood hemorrhaging from their ears. With a clatter, they fell from their perch of last stand - if any lived, he trusted Hypnos would make short work of them - and Toxmalb strode aboard the carriage. Consulting the screen of the console panel, he addressed Hypnos. "There are two routes to the engine room, it would seem," he rasped. "One takes us past officers' barracks, guarded by the elite consort of..." He frowned as he made out the Aurebesh lettering, an alphabet somewhat unfamiliar to Rhand. "Xal'den." Toxmalb turned towards Hypnos, straightening. "An Imperial Knight, I would wager. The other route takes us past the command barracks. It is likely we will be ambushed either way, but this train is fast, and your mastery of mechu deru should prevent it from stopping even if the Imperials instruct it to." TAG: @catalyst
|
|
gorzan
Citizen
Posts: 93
Likes: 60
|
Post by gorzan on Apr 30, 2017 22:22:05 GMT -5
IC: Kint dranlor
Location: odessen
Kint looked down at the holocron. "I have several ways to get down there, or to get the holocron, but it is most likely booby-trapped. I could shoot a grapple hook down to it, and pull it up. Or I can shoot the grapnel across the room and drop down to get it. (The grapnel still operates because it is a simple compressed gas system. He will however have to fire it manually instead of with his HUD) but the more important question is who gets it. While I would ordinarily insist on keeping it for myself, right now my first priority is getting it and getting out. I will require pay, but aside from that, I think this discussion should wait until we aren't under pressure and we actually have the holocron." He opened the seal on his dart thrower. "So, any ideas?"
|
|
Darth Catalyst
Citizen
Dark Lord Immortalis & High Inquisitor
.: Chaos and Cunning
Handling the Hand
Posts: 248
Likes: 276
|
Post by Darth Catalyst on May 1, 2017 20:50:14 GMT -5
IC LORD HYPNOSLeaving the Triumphant HangarThe long trek towards the engine room gave Hypnos much time to think. The engines were definitely the right target, but what after that? There were so many things to consider in the gargantuan ship. Naturally the hyperdrive would be close to the engines. Hypnos could very easily program a set of coordinates and guide the ship wherever Venomis wanted to take it. Although… He stretched his senses once again. Had he really been so ignorant to ignore the obvious? These organics had a major disadvantage to Hypnos and his strike team: they relied heavily on the ability to breathe. If Hypnos could find the life support systems… Ah there they were! This could absolutely cripple the behemoth of a ship. How to do it though… Setting the system to convert carbon dioxide into ozone would certainly be entertaining. But would take too long. And they would notice fairly quickly the obvious odor of ozone. A simple shutoff would do the trick but would also be slow and lacked flair. Hypnos felt so confident in their ability to take the ship over that at this point it was a competition of who could kill with style and efficiency. Of course oversaturating the oxygen content of certain points of the ship was a viable option. The crew wouldn’t even know what was happening until the oxygen reached the point of spontaneous combustion. That could be a targeted strike as well; overloading certain sections of the ship with the volatile gas would create controlled immolations. He’d have to remember this for when the time was right. As they came to the platform for the turbotrain, Hypnos almost laughed at the last stand the Stormtroopers were making against the squamous mass of soldiers assaulting them. Toxmalb evidently thought they could use a hand because he let loose a blast of sonic energy carried by the force, knocking the troopers off their precipice. Not to be outdone, Hypnos himself reached out as well, taking hold of the train itself. It took some effort, but he harnessed the electricity running through the rails of the turbotrain and redirected it into deadly tendrils, striking out at each of the Stormtroopers before they could touch the floor. As Toxmalb approached the screen ,which no doubt had a map on it, Hypnos was already stretching his mind through the systems. "There are two routes to the engine room, it would seem," He rasped. "One takes us past officers' barracks, guarded by the elite consort of... Xal'den. An Imperial Knight, I would wager. The other route takes us past the command barracks. It is likely we will be ambushed either way, but this train is fast, and your mastery of mechu deru should prevent it from stopping even if the Imperials instruct it to."Hypnos was surprised. Had Toxmalb really forgotten the name he called out earlier from the Dark? “Xal’den’s death spins a web, as you said before.” Hypnos pointed out. “We find and kill him and spread chaos for sure.” He stepped into the carriage of the turbotrain. “The next phase of my plans will bring us much glee. A beast with no lungs is a beast that won’t flee. After the engines, their life support dies. For certain parts though, I have a surprise.” He waited until all of their troop had boarded the carriages before prodding the controls with the Force. The Dark Side coursed like electricity among the circuits and lurched the train into motion. "Into the front, my Beasts, congregate!" Hypnos ordered above the roar of the train. "Let my virus be first to seal their fate! Then from behind let the beasts of ooze spring! Attack from above like a scorpion's sting!" TAG: Darth Dreadwar
|
|
Shira
Administrator
.: Empress' Hand
Posts: 135
Likes: 114
|
Post by Shira on May 4, 2017 20:57:33 GMT -5
IC: Shira A’dola
Personal Quarters, The Triumphant
Black, tar-like blood splattered onto the floor of Shira’s quarters. A few small drops splashed onto her arm and she gasped at the intense sensation of burning. Slowly, the black gore spread towards her feet and she jumped up onto her bed to avoid the boiling, bubbling damage being done to the floor.
As her consciousness delved deeper into the monster before her, determined to delve some form of answer from the impossibility, she felt herself being pulled , irresistibly and forcibly yanked into nothingness. Shira attempted to pull back, desperate to find reality and solidity around her again, searching for something besides this vast emptiness, but she was not strong enough.
I AM THE DESOLATE ONE. I AM DOING YOUR DEATH.
She shouted (or did she?) in pain as the mental voice slammed into her mind.
FRINGES OF THE ANCIENT SITH EMPIRE, WHERE THE TRUE SITH WAIT FOR US, IN THE DARK...
Images flashed before her; thousands of images and screams, pain and desperation and death.
WE WERE NOT THE FIRST TO FALL TO THE DARK SIDE, BUT WE HAD MORE POWER. OUR POWER CAME FROM... ELSEWHERE.
Impressions of a great, all-seeing eye, wreathed in flame. Shira cowered, attempting desperately to avoid it’s gaze lest it see through her soul and into all of her secrets.
TRUE SITH DIED CENTURIES AGO... YOU ARE NOT A JEDI. NOT TRULY. AND IT IS FOR THAT... THAT I LOVE YOU.
A hand caressed her cheek gently and Shira leaned into the touch, just barely, staring earnestly at the blind, old woman before her, yearning for this knowledge, to understand, truly, what was being shown to her.
And then it was gone.
She stood on her bed, trembling in a cold sweat, the imprinted memories and visions seared into her memory and flashing through her mind. The creature had disappeared, but it’s blood still melted through the durasteel of the floor, and it was spreading. Threads of the toxic substance reached for her, searching for her, climbing up walls and flowing under the bed she stood upon.
A flash of bright crimson, for a moment, interrupted the anxiety and residue visions, a wordless cry of fear and a distress call from Alisha. Shira focused and saw the creature her student was facing and fear turned to resolution. Calling her lightsaber back to her hand, she turned to the wall behind her and plunged her ignited blade into the wall, calling upon the Force to increase the heat from her blade, urging the durasteel to yield before the plasma blade.
TAG: Padawan4687, Darth Dreadwar,
|
|
elu
Citizen
Posts: 17
Likes: 22
|
Post by elu on May 5, 2017 2:20:02 GMT -5
Darth Persevus IC:~Chasm of the Celestial, Cathedral of the Holy Jedi Spirits, Odessen~With Dy'nonik'iss dispatching the last of the jailers, the reptile led them down stairs and around various twisting and turning corridors, passages, and hallways. Seemingly from memory, which was fairly impressive. As they moved, Persevus held to the rear like he said he would, mindful of anyone approaching, though none were apparent. At least not for the time being. Soon enough they were through the exit doors and found themselves upon the side of a sheer cliff face that was next to a large internal chasm that was illuminated from sunlight above. His attention, much like the others, was focused on what sprouted from the river stream below. A pillar of marble and ivory that jutted up roughly a hundred feet, and atop it… The Celestial Holocron. It is more ornate than I had imagined. Now the next step is to probe the surrounding obstacles.Silently, he allowed himself to take in the area and listen to the far off chanting of the Ordu Aspectu monks. Of course, the others had to speak while he was observing, but that was expected. "So two questions. How do we retrieve the holocron, and who gets it?"That was the trick wasn't it. They were all here for the same reason, the same objective. And they weren't exactly allied. Kint spoke up in reply soon enough. "I have several ways to get down there, or to get the holocron, but it is most likely booby-trapped. I could shoot a grapple hook down to it, and pull it up. Or I can shoot the grapnel across the room and drop down to get it, but the more important question is who gets it. While I would ordinarily insist on keeping it for myself, right now my first priority is getting it and getting out. I will require pay, but aside from that, I think this discussion should wait until we aren't under pressure and we actually have the holocron."The mercenary began to prep a dart thrower or some such. "So, any ideas?"So, times dictate one's allies as it were. Persevus gazed over at the holocron from where he stood. Had he been an amateur, it'd be so tempting just to Force Pull it over as quick as possible. But he'd been at this for far too long. Jedi or not, there were traps involved. There were always traps. "As you say, we are under pressure. It is quite likely there will be more of the…zealots…patrolling around. We don't have time to attempt much right now. Perhaps one or two things, if both fail, its best to leave and wait for a better opportunity." His masked visage turned to look at the tiss'shar. "Your speed and senses are best suited for lookout. We'll need to pull our skills together to get out of here," he nodded toward a nearby path, "Go down the path and scout. We can communicate through the Force, I will hear you." Hopefully Dy'nonik'iss moved swiftly to do just that, he'd pause a bit to see if he would. If he didn't, he'd push on. And if he did, he'd mark it to gauge his willingness to comply before continuing. Persevus motioned idly toward the pillar and its prized relic. " Gorzan, you've already mentioned a couple of ideas and you have tools they may not suspect to be used. Go ahead and try it. The sooner the better." While he waited, the Sith crouched down and picked up a rock, tossing it idly between his hands for a moment then casually tossing it down over the cliff face, his gaze watching it fall for a moment before going back to watch the mercenary's progress. In times such as these, restlessness appeared in a myriad of ways. Hurry up…Tag: Darth Dreadwar, gorzan
|
|
dice
Citizen
Posts: 84
Likes: 65
|
Post by dice on May 7, 2017 21:08:52 GMT -5
IC: Darth Xirr Outside the Throne Room, Sith Temple, Korriban.Ambiance
Theme At the mere mention of the voices that had plagued Lord Xirr for many years prior to his, less than desirable meeting with Emperor Dreadwar, The Sith was hurriedly rushed into the hall that he and, Lady Avaris had first met with Emperor Dreadwar's high Inquisitor, Lady Talon. Xirr was baffled at the reaction that he had drawn from the composed and emotionless Emperor, a reaction that Xirr could almost relate to fear. Lord Xirr, accompanied by Lady Talon emerged from the large black stone doors, ornately carved with grotesque depictions of things Xirr could not begin to fathom, but that seemed utterly fitting for the Emperor that he now knew. Even Lady Talon seemed shaken. But why? Xirr had a biting feeling that he would find out soon enough. "We must perform Syn's sacrifice of ritual cleansing! We need the entrails of a Tuk'ata, the bone of a mongrel Sith and... the blood of a virgin..." Lady Talon said hurriedly. Her customary provocative purr no longer present behind her words. "Tell me," she snapped, worry shining in her eyes. "Where the kriff we might find those things in a place like this" And before Xirr could even begin to formulate a response, Lady Talon asked another question, one that seemingly carried much weight as Lady Talon's voice dropped to a hush whisper, even then When she said the words the torches that bathed the stone hall in a orange hue flickered, nearly going out at the mention of one word "Typhojem" "I-I" Lord Xirr stammered, unable to piece together a response. He was obviously shaken, at the worry that he had incited in both Lady Talon...and Emperor Dreadwar himself. Xirr stopped, his thoughts racing as ghostly whispers took over. "Do not follow the Twi'Lek, Do not take part in her misguided ritual. She wishes to cleanse you of Us, the ones who pushed you to take the power that you now hold in your mechanical grasp... Remember where your alleg- " The voices stopped abruptly as the mention of Typhojem echoed throughout the hall. Again Lord Xirr attempted to speak "I have...though he was only mentioned vaguely, with only a passing thought." Xirr had seemingly forgotten the question of where they were to gain the materials for the ritual, his mind now clouded with the doubt that had been sewn in the silent discussion taking place within his head. TAG: Darth Dreadwar , avaris
|
|
Shira
Administrator
.: Empress' Hand
Posts: 135
Likes: 114
|
Post by Shira on May 8, 2017 21:10:06 GMT -5
IC: Kevala and Scionica
Korriban, outside of DreshdaeRage and fear flew mentally between the twins as they fell to cockpit’s floor, rocked by the explosion of the engines. Feverish cursing clouded around Scionica as she hastily stood up and helped Kevala to her feet, rushing to the flight panel to check the damage and swiftly shut the ship down. Emergency cooling systems had automatically started up fires in the engine, which soon simmered down to nothing more than melting durasteel and blackened engine remains. Rage gave way to disbelief as Scionica read the damage report. “Well, sister mine, looks like we’re going to have to steal a ship too. There’s no way I can repair this, the damage is too extensive.”Silence reigned for a few heavy moments before Kevala spoke, voice a near-whisper. “You were right, Sci. This was a terrible idea. I should have listened to you.”Scionica shrugged one shoulder half-heartedly. “No use lingering on those thoughts now. We’re here and we need to get out of here. This smoke trail has got to be seen for miles around by now. We can’t stay here.”Kevala went down below and grabbed another pack to store all of her treatment supplies and Scionica packed up the various vials of toxins and remedies they had initially decided to leave behind. There was no sense in leaving any valuables behind now that there was little possibility of returning to their ship; a new form of transport would have to be found. A secondary change of clothes were also packed and the rest of their belongings were hidden within a crevice secluded behind the canyon’s face to be retrieved when their mission was over. Kevala sighed and looked over The Morthi critically from the outside. It was a small thing, but it had been their home for several years and, despite her detachment from most earthly things, she felt an odd sense of loss for the ship they could never use again. Scionica walked out and shouldered her pack, her electro-staff compacted and holstered between her shoulder blades. “Let’s get moving. We’re not exactly inconspicuous and there’s obviously no waiting until dark.”Kevala nodded and took off after her sister, jogging smoothly, silently and keeping low to the ground, wincing at the thought of their pale, translucent skin and dark clothing against the red landscape surrounding them. There was certainly no way to camouflage in any shadows; the area between the canyon and the city was utterly open with no form of cover. She just hoped they could outrun their string of bad luck and make it to the city with no further mishaps. TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Possibly Darth Catalyst, @volshe and Padawan4687, as well?
|
|
|
|
Post by Darth Dreadwar on May 9, 2017 16:36:45 GMT -5
IC: Blessed ToxmalbTurbotrain, the Triumphant “Xal’den’s death spins a web, as you said before,” Hypnos pointed out. “We find and kill him and spread chaos for sure.” A frown creased Toxmalb's withered features like the skin of a rotting plum. Did Hypnos really think Toxmalb did not remember? The Dark never lied, and its counsel was unforgettable, to forget it unforgivable. Hypnos added more tactical advice in his own unique way - all exemplary, although he suspected Hypnos underestimated the cunning of the ship's designer - and the abominable army crammed into the suddenly lurching carriages behind them did not seek confirmation before assembling in the manner he had bidden. Toxmalb's eyes shone eerily in the newfound darkness as the turbotrain raced into a tunnel. "The Dark said it would break the Sword," Toxmalb croaked. "They are tied... The Sword of the late Empress, Alisha Tano, and this Xal'den. But will we find him in the barracks he commands... Or the command quarters of Tano herself?" His own peering into the Dark had not been so clear as to reveal. "Perhaps killing him is the route through which we successfully destroy life support; perhaps that is what the Dark intimated." The fork in the tunnel was fast approaching. Hypnos would have to make a decision soon. TAG: @catalyst --- IC: The monster beneath Shira's bedPlaying hide and seek, Shira's quarters, the Triumphant Shira's lightsaber, enhanced by her own arcana, sank into the durasteel wall like a hot knife through butter. She was seconds away from salvation. No warning stirred the Force. But that was because wounds in its fabric did not scream in danger. They were silent. The bed was not. It screeched in protest as it suddenly shifted violently, displacing Shira from atop the mattress. She missed the pool of tar. The hand that snaked out from beneath the bed did not miss her ankle. Wicked claws dug deep, pulling her with supernatural strength towards the gnashing, grinning maw that barely glinted in the darkness under her bed. The tar had not trickled to underneath the bed. It had trickled from there, from the wounded monster hiding there like a frightened child. YOU DID ME A HURT. TAG: Shira--- IC: Darth TalonReception hall, Inner Sanctum"I-I have," Lady Talon narrowed her eyes at Xirr's stammering, clicking her impractically heeled boot against the stone floor as he delayed, as if at war with himself as to what to reveal. "Though," Xirr continued, "he was only mentioned vaguely, with only a passing thought." Her crimson hands clenched in frustrated fists. Why did he have to be so vague? Why did men never answer questions straight, when it would get them in trouble with a woman? "I suspect you have heard of him more than in passing, Lord Xirr," Talon bit out. "Although you may not have known it. The Immortal Gods of the Sith, whom even Vader invoked in blasphemy. The apocalyptic deities beyond the Gunninga Gap, whom the Knell of Muspilli claim powers of summoning. The Old Ones. The Elder Gods. The Father of Shadows. The Left-Handed God, worshipped by the cult of The Five. Pomojema, eldritch god of Mimban." She tilted her head. "Of course, I thought these to be mere myths. Yet was the Immortal God-King of Prakith a myth, or was he legend made mummified flesh, the Darth Andeddu? Emperor Dreadwar, ancient of days, has revealed much to me. And he has revealed enough for me to know that if you have heard the original name, Typhojem, the god whose name Ajunta Pall called upon to claim Lordship over the Sith, that you are well and truly ensnared in a web." She extended her senses, noticing the roiling storm swirling around Xirr's mind. "I sense much confusion in you, Lord Xirr," she stated flatly. "Where did you hear this name in passing? Was it amidst the mad crowing of the whispers that even now burden your mind?" It was a guess, but an educated one, deducing the origin of his conflicted Force signature to be the same phenomenon he had mentioned in the throne room. TAG: dice--- IC: Dy'nonik'issCathedral of the Holy Jedi Spirits, OdessenDy'nonik'iss' reptilian lips pursed in a rugose line as Gorzan detailed several methods of acquiring the Holocron. They were sound, of course, relying on mechanics and compressed gas rather than a more sophisticated electrical process, although it did make him wonder how foolish the Terrible Glare monks were for chaining such an industrious mercenary. Persevus seemed to agree, and offered his own tactical appraisal. "Your speed and senses are best suited for lookout," the Sith Lord turned to address the raptor after. "We'll need to pull our skills together to get out of here," he nodded towards the steep stair that led down to the path out of the chasm, "Go down the path and scout. We can communicate through the Force, I will hear you." Well, this was just perfect. And here I was thinking I would have to contrive an excuse to leave. "Sound advice, milord," Dy'nonik'iss hissed, tongue flicking in a sign of peculiar concentration. "And while Gorzan might be interested in getting it and getting out, I am only interested in the latter... The Holocron has caused far too much trouble already." The rock Persevus idly tossed off the cliff clattered as it reached the bubbling brook below. Dy'nonik'iss was somewhat concerned the sounds would attract monks, much as Kint's noisy if successful escape from the cell had, but it did offer some useful information; if Odessen's gravity was standard, then the time it took to fall indicated the chasm was approximately... a hundred metres deep. And the sounds obfuscated something else. "So I will go ahead and scout," Dy'nonik'iss continued, his hand, which had been curiously extended in expressive gesticulation as he spoke, falling to his bandolier. He seemed somewhat distracted, but he quirked his avian skull at his two newfound companions in the equivalent of a nod. Tail swishing, he turned towards the stair, and began gingerly making his way down the steep steps carved into the cliffside. But it was as if Dy'nonik'iss had forgotten he had a tail, for its weight pulled him backwards as he teetered on the third step, causing him to slip and fall. It was a testament to his reflexes that he merely skidded down five more steps, rather than plunging to his doom, but as he arrested his momentum with a three-clawed hand, the jolt of his sudden stop caused his loose bandolier to swing wildly - and a diamond-shaped Holocron went flying from its pouch to land on the shelf upon which Gorzan and Persevus stood. It was either another Celestial Holocron or seemingly the very Holocron itself, radiating arcane energy of the dark side from Rakatan glyphs inscribed in its shell so strongly that technology itself was enfeebled in its presence. Yet the Holocron they had come for remained, impossibly, on the pillar in the chasm. Dy'nonik'iss was of the Shado Varmiri; he had learned from the Shapers of the Kro Var, from the Antagonistic Androcratic Order of Anaxes, and from the great Illusionists of the Fallanassi. And one who knew the latter might think Dy'nonik'iss had simply telekinetically pulled the Celestial Holocron from its perch while the others were strategising, using Fallanassi illusions to render it invisible as it flew through the air, and leaving the image and Force signature of a fake duplicate behind in its place. Dy'nonik'iss spun as soon as he righted himself, eyes wide at being caught. Already he stretched out his hand again, hoping to telekinetically retrieve the Holocron from where it lay within arm's reach of Persevus and Gorzan before they could grab it. But, as if weakened by the strain of whatever trick he had pulled for the Holocron to end up in his bandolier in the first place, his power was slow to take effect... Too slow... TAG: gorzan elu--- A chill wind greeted the twins as they made their way out across Korriban's surface. It was a wind cold enough to chill the bone as fiercely as it bit the bleached ribcages of beasts arrayed before them like a sea of sand and calcium, but their choice of attire protected them from the elements' bitterness. Scapulas and vertebrae crunched beneath their feet as they walked, leaving white powder to mingle with the desaturated granules of Korriban's stark desert. The desert stretching between the necropolis ahead and the Valley cutting through the mountains behind them was vast, and the twins seemed smaller still in the shadows of gargantuan mesas and buttresses that, upon a second glance, revealed themselves to be crumbling ruins of ancient temples hewn from the bedrock, whittled away by millennia of whistling wind to naked protrusions of raw yet still majestic masonry. This was Korriban, in all of its abysmal glory. Stunning vistas, obscured by choking dust, the fiery effulgence of Horuset, obfuscated by icy currents, all hope for relief in the parched wilderness, crushed like the bowed-backed statues of slaves upholding the fallen walls of Dreshdae. And for all the desert's vastness, for all the toothy kiss of the wind, it was not the cleanness of open air that reached the twins' senses, but rather the musty, claustrophobic atmosphere of wasting death, as if they were walking through the oppressive depths of a catacomb rather than through the open field of long-dead carrion. But onwards they stalked, fair skin and dark robes harshly outlined against yellow sands that had doubtlessly been washed through with blood a thousand years before their birth, ants crawling over a honeycomb of hidden tombs and treasures. And then, as they drew near what had once been the gateway of the Dead City, the voice called to them. This was no silent whisper that could be mistaken for the vagaries of imagination. It was unmistakably a low, male voice and it spoke within their heads with an echo more belonging to the interior of a crypt than the exterior of the plains. Welcome, Scionica. Welcome, Kevala. Long has your coming been foretold.Around them, there was only desolation. No speaker greeted their eyes. Dreshdae's eroded towers loomed ever closer. TAG: Shira
|
|
gorzan
Citizen
Posts: 93
Likes: 60
|
Post by gorzan on May 10, 2017 0:51:41 GMT -5
IC: Kint dranlor Location:cathedral of holy Jedi spirits, odessen Kint spun, hearing and seeing the holocron drop out of dy-nonik-iss's robes and clatter to the floor. Instantly, his right hand called it to him, while his left reached for his blaster pistol- which he then realized wasn't there. With a growl, he drew one of his three daggers and, using his force-grip abilities, attempted to lift the traitornup by his threat. "Why you thieving scum. I should kill you right now day-noksis... dy-nanokis..... reptilian creature!" His hands crackled with electricity. "Were you planning this all along? Hell, how did you plan on getting out of here?" elu@darth dreadwar |
|
Darth Catalyst
Citizen
Dark Lord Immortalis & High Inquisitor
.: Chaos and Cunning
Handling the Hand
Posts: 248
Likes: 276
|
Post by Darth Catalyst on May 11, 2017 16:11:31 GMT -5
IC Lord Hypnos Travelling the Triumphant Turbotrain
The frown Toxmalb shot at Hypnos was disconcerting. Hypnos certainly did not intend to offend the sorcerer. Organic emotions were so very difficult to process sometimes. Hypnos would have smiled in return, had he the ability to do so. Instead of a warm and receptive tone, his vocabulator could only put forth a cold mechanical growl, “The Dark was kind, it gave us a name. Now Xal’den must play; he is part of the game. The ‘game’ in question, being the will of the Force, is one Xal’den can’t possibly win, of course.” Sensing the tracks divergence, Hypnos shifted his will to the controls. The officer’s barracks not was the obvious logical choice, the command barracks would be a far more tactical target, but Toxmalb had never steered them wrong with his advice. Obviously, if he had, Venomis would have seen no utility in preserving him far past his natural life expectancy. It took barely a push. The train hurtled towards the officer’s barracks. Hopefully towards Xal’den as well. Hypnos didn’t want to make the journey towards Tano’s quarters if this hunch proved wrong. He did not want to face the Sword if it were unbroken.
TAG: Darth Dreadwar |
|
dice
Citizen
Posts: 84
Likes: 65
|
Post by dice on May 11, 2017 20:23:02 GMT -5
IC: Darth XirrSith Temple, Throne Room Reception Hall, Korriban. Darth Talon was obviously anxious to move hastily on with the ritual, wasting no time with Darth Xirr's shocked stammering. "I suspect you have heard of him more than in passing, Lord Xirr," Talon snapped, a poisonous edge suddenly present in her voice. "Although you may not have known it. The Immortal Gods of the Sith, whom even Vader invoked in blasphemy. The apocalyptic deities beyond the Gunninga Gap, whom the Knell of Muspilli claim powers of summoning. The Old Ones. The Elder Gods. The Father of Shadows. The Left-Handed God, worshipped by the cult of The Five. Pomojema, eldritch god of Mimban." Talon continued. Xirr, however paid her no mind, once again his mind was clouded with the ghostly whispers that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. " This one is knowledgeable indeed. Though knowledge does not prevent blasphemy it seems! She invokes *His* name without even a sense of piety, a smattering of respect among her words, A disgrace to the true Sith indeed!" The voices subsided momentarily before returning with a vigor that he had not experienced in years "Lisssttteennn to these words of warning, young one... Do not to heed the words of the Twi'Lek for she seeks to rid you of the embodiment of the all powerful..." The voices fell into emptiness once again, this time not to return, Though they had left Xirr much to consider. Now, however was not the time. Darth Talon grew ever more impatient with every passing second, she addressed him once again "I sense much confusion in you, Lord Xirr," she said abruptly and without any sense of underlying meaning "Where did you hear this name in passing? Was it amidst the mad crowing of the whispers that even now burden your mind?" She pried, obviously having intruded into Xirr's mind somehow. "Indeed, Lady Talon. It was, though why you seek to rid me of what has done so much good, truly does baffle me, and if you dont mind... I would prefer the smallest amount of people in my head as I can manage. Your Intrusions are unnecessary." Xirr said powerfully, The mechanical rasp of his mask seeming to disappear momentarily as Xirr turned abruptly about to face Talon Head on. TAG: Darth Dreadwar,
|
|
Volshe
Administrator
.: Empress
Posts: 229
Likes: 163
|
Post by Volshe on May 12, 2017 1:34:57 GMT -5
IC: Darth ViscretusMountain Pass to DreshdaeThe knife sunk into the tuk'ata's skull with unexpected ease. She attempted to tug it free from the dying head, a gush of blood-stained fluid pouring from around the blade. The attack of the other beast gave Viscretus not a second to breathe before its tail flicked towards her with alarming speed. Were it not for the pounding rage she had called upon moments earlier, she might have fallen victim to its attack. Instead she lunged to the side, a cloud of dust rising as the tuk'ata's tail collided with ground. She rose from the ochre sands, backing away only slightly, unsure of her next move or the distance required to exact her revenge. She crouched, ignoring the vague trembling that lingered in her muscles, centering herself on the brewing fear and darkness punctuated by adrenaline. The knife in her hand had been blunted by the skull of its deceased friend, enough that the Sith Master would have contemplated simply tossing it aside, were it not for the faint pulsing of the Dark that surrounded the blade. It would not save her in another head-on attack. A growl tore itself from the tuk'ata's throat as it matched her stance. preparing to pounce. She gripped the knife more tightly, her 'saber still clutched in the other hand. Her eyes narrowed, The blood of the beast flared red in her mind's eye as it coursed towards its heart in an endless cycle of life. The Force buzzed through her in sudden wave, taking purchase in her mind and bringing her senses to life. The tuk'ata pawed the ground, then charged. She leapt to the right, thrusting the emitter into the thick hide of the beast's side and the blade beside it. She flicked the 'saber on, the roar stifled by the leathery skin as the beam of violet-edged plasma attempted to burrow through. The knife had fared better luck, sinking in between its rows of ribs with a similar ease to its first attack. She exhaled before drawing in a sharp breath, withdrawing the lightsaber from the scorched skin and sending a push through the Force. The beast, unsteadied enough by her attack, skid across the deep reddish sands. Where it would find its footing - or not - knife still lodged in its side. Boom.A distant explosion drew her attention from the limp beast and up to where Robyn stood - and Catalyst lay sprawled, blood oozing from his armoured abdomen. Her brow furrowed as she sprinted across the short distance, ignoring Apollyon, who, although wounded, was conscious yet. She did not have time to stop and gape at the smoke billowing up from the other side of Dreshdae. " Deal with the beast," she breathed to the Initiate, kneeling before Catalyst to assess his wounds. His breathing was laboured, his mind quiet - she hoped in trance, not the brink of death. Her hand glowed with a rush of energy, her mind directing its focus to the toxins that coursed through him. She would have used one of her tonics, had she had the foresight to remember the antidote for the venom of a tuk'ata. Though her power was still in constant flux, though a foreign darkness still haunted her mind, it would hopefully be enough to heal him sufficiently. And then, she would deal with Apollyon, whose blood still dripped upon the sands with no sigh of slowing. TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Padawan4687, Darth Catalyst, TAGSET: False Tomb of Naga Sadow
|
|
Padawan4687
Imperial Intelligence
.: Empress' Sword / Director of Intelligence
Posts: 133
Likes: 112
|
Post by Padawan4687 on May 12, 2017 18:20:44 GMT -5
IC: Alisha Tano
Location: The Bridge of The TriumphantStill trapped on-board a Bridge with a killer and his ...it’s?... victims, Alisha’s defensive stance wobbled for an instant and her eyes went blank. Just a moment ago she’d been hoping that her message broke through Shira’s sleep, but now she had to hope that it reached her friend and Mentor at all. The Bond they shared was broken. Chopped like it was a loose thread on clothing to be snipped by this beast’s waggling finger-limbs. She was completely on her own now. It feels like everything about this beast is trying to send me back to that day. Alisha thought, biting her lip. It wasn’t the pain that forced her mind back to the front or the familiar mental sting, but rather her senses screaming “ Danger!” at the black viscous fluid quickly growing larger in her vision- She took a quick sidestep, no time to even scream. The black ooze flew past her at...it was too low for her to say eye-level. More like, mouth level? Was this monster hoping she’d swallow that?! Alisha was sorely tempted to let her tongue poke out of her mouth like a child displeased with dinner. You won’t talk, huh? Or maybe you can't with that thing you call a mouth. No matter. Alisha set her jaw and rushed the creature with her lightsaber blade out at her side in the hope of completely bisecting the creature across the narrow catwalk. She was aiming to reach the door much more than this… thing. TAG: Darth Dreadwar , Shira
|
|
|
|
Post by Darth Dreadwar on May 12, 2017 18:52:24 GMT -5
IC: Dy'nonik'issCathedral of the Holy Jedi Spirits, OdessenOne moment Kint Dranlor, hailed in the legends of the Unknown Regions as Gorzan, Masarian mercenary extraordinaire, held Dy'nonik'iss aloft by his lying throat. The next, he was engulfed by stark, all-consuming white. It was not the blinding white of a flash-grenade, a sensation an elite military man would no doubt be accustomed to. There was no ringing in the ears, nor were Gorzan's retinas seared by fractal explosions of colour. No, that would have been too real.. This was stale. Silent as the grave. It was as if he had been instantaneously taken to a horizonless realm of eldritch off-white, stretching as far as the eye could see in every direction. The empty expanse was strongly redolent of an underlying wrongness, and that feeling only intensified as a black speck appeared in the furthest distance. It may have been seconds or minutes or torturous, senseless years, deprived of sleep, of meaning, of an anchor with which Gorzan could ground himself in reality, before that speck grew close enough to be revealed as the figure of a woman, enshrouded in robes of midnight-black. Time was useless here. Time was for the sane. No human mind could endure timeless nothingness without splintering. The woman's eyes were as empty as the white, devoid of sanity, shining with madness. The utter silence of her approach was unnerving; her boots did not click on durasteel decks or crunch on twigs and soil. So oppressive was the endless white that even the rustling of her robes seemed muffled. When she was some fifteen feet away, she spoke. Her voice did not echo, despite the vastness of the white; it was as if they were confined in a coffin together, buried a hundred feet beyond all hope of rescue. "Hello," she said evenly. Her voice had a strained quality, and although perfectly steady it called to mind a string about to snap, pulled taut and straight by a million tons of tension at either end. "I am Darth Ardeur. Welcome..." She choked, eyes closing with sufficient fierceness to imply she never wanted to open them again, or perhaps she was merely wishing beyond all rational hope that she was trapped in a dream she would now awaken from. After a scrunched second, her yellow eyes opened. Their sulphuric luster was dulled by disappointment, and her voice rendered more insipid still. "Welcome," she droned on, a single tear trickling down an alabaster cheek, "to Hell." She wiped the tear away, and shook her head. "Oh, why do I bother... dear Ardeur is just going mad again..." She squinted at Gorzan. Paused. Walked closer, muttering all the while about a dread war and imprisonment, hallucinations and eternity. When she was in poking distance, she poked him. Hard, in the chest. "You're not real, are you. Please be real. Are you real?" --- Dy'nonik'iss dropped to the ground at the same time as Kint Dranlor did. The Holocron Gorzan had summoned to his hand fell away from his twitching palm, the Rakatan glyphs emblazoned on its shell shining with stark white light as it rolled to rest near Persevus' feet. Gingerly, Dy'nonik'iss rose to his three-toed feet, using his clawed hands to pull himself from the stair he had collapsed upon to the shelf where his rival stood, where Gorzan now lay prone, unconscious or, for all the Force could tell, dead. "Tsk, tsk," he tutted, shaking his head in a mockery of sadness. "Gorzan should have known only a Sith Lord could open such a powerful relic of the dark side. Now, hand it over to me, Persevus, preciouss, or I'll kill you before you can say 'holocron.' Or say much of anything, to be honest." But Dy'nonik'iss was not being honest. Dy'nonik'iss was not honest. Dy'nonik'iss was a liar, everything he had told them a lie spun on the fork of a serpent's tongue. The Holocron within arm's reach of Persevus was not the Celestial Holocron, still perched on the pillar in the chasm. It was arguably not even a Holocron, despite emanating the same aura of ancient power, strong enough to interfere with technology like the aura of Golg. But it was no simple forgery or fake. It was a Rakatan Mind Trap. Gorzan had been doomed the instant he touched it. Dy'nonik'iss' words were perfectly crafted, to explain Gorzan's collapse, to entice Lord Persevus into touching it and being similarly ensnared. His threat was so brazen as to plausibly be a bluff, but Persevus would either assume his unknown level of power was as lethal as he implied and take it at face value, and thus do as Dy'nonik'iss wanted, or he would think the threat empty and model Dy'nonik'iss as a cunning deceiver - and call his bluff and attempt to abscond with the Holocron and thus fall into the trap anyway. Or perhaps Persevus would recognise Dy'nonik'iss' prior stumble had been an act, provoking one or both to touch the faux Holocron, and thus consider the possibility of a double bluff, a triple bluff. It mattered not; all roads down that line of thought led to Persevus' entrapment. And if for some strange reason born of a Sith Lord's careful conniving Persevus did not touch it... Well, Dy'nonik'iss had a plan for that too, or indeed several, backup plan and backup plan, contingency for contingency, layer after layer, wheel within wheel. One level higher, he played. TAG: elu, gorzan
|
|
Shira
Administrator
.: Empress' Hand
Posts: 135
Likes: 114
|
Post by Shira on May 14, 2017 17:34:25 GMT -5
IC: Shira A’dola
Crew Quarters, The Triumphant
A horrified scream escaped Shira’s lips as she was wrenched from the mattress; she’d made a horrible mistake. She saw the faint glint of teeth from under her bed as the thing dragged her closer at an agonisingly slow pace.
YOU DID ME A HURT.
The claws digging into her ankle served as a sharp distraction from the paralysing fear that was threatening to envelop her mind. The pain stabbed sharply through the terror and forced her to focus on her situation and surroundings. Looking around wildly, she saw the smouldering metal she had been cutting through, melted rivulets of durasteel dripping down the wall. Searching around with her mind, she located her dropped ‘saber, thrown to the other side of her quarters.
Writhing in an attempt to loosen the monster’s grip, she glared at the thing, fury written in every detail of her face. Calling upon the Force, she hurled the molten durasteel under the bed towards her opponent before calling her lightsaber back to her hand and igniting the white blade.
TAG: Darth Dreadwar
|
|
Shira
Administrator
.: Empress' Hand
Posts: 135
Likes: 114
|
Post by Shira on May 14, 2017 17:34:41 GMT -5
IC: Kevala and Scionica
Dreshdae, Korriban
Welcome Scionica. Welcome Kevala. Long has your coming been foretold.
There was no physical sign of startling, but threads of bright yellow surprise rippled between the twins’ mental link. They exchanged pointed glances, knowing that if their presence had already been noted, there was little point in expending time and energy sneaking around. Kevala craned her head, keen eyes searching the towers and buildings around them, but found no evidence of any present being. Shrugging at her sister, she unsheathed a single katana and strode fluidly through the gateway into the city. Scionica followed her cautiously, compacted electro-staff in hand.
TAG: Darth Dreadwar
|
|
Padawan4687
Imperial Intelligence
.: Empress' Sword / Director of Intelligence
Posts: 133
Likes: 112
|
Post by Padawan4687 on May 14, 2017 21:46:05 GMT -5
IC: Robyn Shaire
Location: Approaching Dead City, DreshdaeThe attacking tuk'ata died with barely even a whimper, and Robyn switched off her lightsaber blade and let the beast fall. She took a single, shaky step back and gasped for breath while staring down at the beast she just killed. What is this...? Robyn caught herself smiling, despite herself, and had to consciously hold back a laugh. She could still recognize the sounds of the other Sith fighting and what sounded suspiciously like an explosion, but it felt as though the battle and the danger were somewhere far away. For just a few seconds, Robyn let herself savor that feeling. After hearing so many jokes about being bait for tuk'ata tossed around at her expense, it felt unbelievably good to kill one completely on her own. At the same time, she was fully aware of how unusual this "good" feeling was. This...isn't right... Robyn lifted her head and weakly laughed. "I know this isn't right..." she whispered, turning around with that muted smile still on her face. I just really want to do it again. Lord Catalyst lay collapsed on the ground next to... a tuk'ata he turned into a skewer, with a weakened Darth Viscretus hurrying over to him. How long had she been "out of it" for?! She burst through the haze and activated her Sight, finally recognizing proper that Lord Catalyst's aura was muted probably with tuk'ata toxins, Lady Viscretus was already weakened herself, and Lady Apollyon was long since out of the battle. That left her as the only one still able to fight... Just before kneeling down in front of the unconscious High Inquisitor, Lady Viscretus gave the lone Initiate an order: "Deal with the beast." Perfect."I'm on it." Robyn switched her Sight on again to lock her senses onto the distant beast, and returned to her regular sight to see a knife hilt buried in its side beginning to leak blood. She didn't even feel the need to get close, and extended an open hand as though she was holding the knife. Still coasting across what she was sorely tempted to call some sort of a "power high", Robyn yanked on the hilt through the Force to rip it out of the beast's side. Once free of the tuk'ata ribs, the blade arced through the air and came to comfortably hover high above their heads. The beast gave a roar or either pain or rage, and attempted to charge. Once the beast made a single bound in her direction, Robyn grinned and willed the blade to come down. She watched the blade tear through the sky for the beast's head, but reactivated her lightsaber just in case. TAG: Darth Catalyst , Darth Dreadwar , Volshe
|
|
elu
Citizen
Posts: 17
Likes: 22
|
Post by elu on May 14, 2017 23:24:06 GMT -5
OOC: Apologies for the late reply. Work has been rather hectic and other priorities also being juggled. But here I am now! Darth Persevus IC:~Chasm of the Celestial, Cathedral of the Holy Jedi Spirits, Odessen~It began with Dy'nonik'iss agreeing with his idea, which was all for the best. It made things far less complicated. As he explained that he had no desire for the holocron any further, Persevus listened to the sound of the falling rock. It created noise, but something of that size shouldn't cause much of a stir, if anything. Yet it gave him just enough information. His impatience, while present to a point, was not truly to a degree of kinetic showing. That had been a ploy to drop the rock down the cliff to learn just exactly how deep the chasm went. He got a good idea. Roughly a hundred meters, give or take. Well noted. "So I will go ahead and scout."Good. Now what would Gorzan do for the Celestial Holocron? That line of thought was quickly interrupted before it got very far as the raptor suddenly began skidding off the side of the cliff. The Sith Lord's head whipped around to look at him sharply, his mask giving away nothing. Dy'nonik'iss managed to claw his way to a halt, though his bandolier swung wildly and out flew….the Celestial Holocron onto the path where they stood. He turned to face fully now in eerie silence, the raptor's eyes widening at being caught and he outstretched his hand to retrieve the item they all desperately seemed. However the mercenary 'brute' was faster as he grabbed it and began to grip the traitor by the throat. Why you thieving scum. I should kill you right now day-noksis…dy-nanokis…..reptilian creature! Were you planning this all along? Hell, how did you plan on getting out of here?"…As soon as the words were out of his mouth though, they both dropped. Though the raptor only went to his feet. Gorzan was clearly unconscious or something worse as he twitched upon the ground all while the item rolled to rest near his feet now. His eyes flicked down to it, then back to his opponent. For that was what he always had been, as he had remarked to himself not long ago. But now the veil of deception, at least the one of alliances, was gone. He much preferred it this way. Dy'nonik'iss gingerly approached him for a few steps, shaking his head and giving off his tsks at the merc's actions. "Gorzan should have known only a Sith Lord could open such a powerful relic of the dark side. Now, hand it over to me, Persevus, precious, or I'll kill you before you can say 'holocron.' Or say much of anything, to be honest."And so the Sith just stood there, eerily unmoving, for a span of two seconds. Then, at last, he spoke. "I have underestimated you," a rare admittance, "a clever multitude of bluffs illusionist. A word of advice." A heavy pause occurred as he stared at him impassively. "Very few holocrons possess rakatan glyphs in such fashion. They are surprisingly devoid of such things, preferring artistic imagery if anything at all." He did not call out that the object was a rakatan mind trap. In all his years of travel and research he knew them well, but had rarely come so close to one. And so, while it was no holocron, he quietly admitted that he didn't know for sure if it was a mind trap so held back that statement. If nothing else, there was another reason he knew it wasn't the holocron. He hadn't tried to instantly retrieve it after escaping Gorzan's clutches as it rolled toward him for one. The Force was quietly set to surround the orb. Should the raptor use any tactics to move it into him, he'd find it surprisingly heavy and resistance to any amount of movement in any direction. He didn't believe the reptile could overpower in one bit. In true Sith fashion, he was rather sure of his superiority in power. He would prove it if he must. "Sadly, I don't have time to play with you, cunning one." He raised his right hand and clenched as if to Force Choke him, just as the merc did…yet that was not what he had done at all. Due to the situation, it was now best to resort to the riskiest of all maneuvers. The greatest counter to a fellow deceiver and strategist in a time where time was not an ally. Of anyone. Chaos. The pillar holding the Celestial Holocron…began to crumble from the very middle in order to collapse it to the depths below. He had no idea of the traps, though doubted many of them would be designed for this tactic. Raw power and sheer unpredictability would have to be his current companions. He made no move to stop the holocron's own plummet if it was succeeding. Indeed. He let it fall. Should Dy'nonik'iss move to go after it in some fashion, Persevus would be applying the Force at the base of his tail where it met with his body and forcefully yanked him back and against the mountainside hard. At the same time, he would launch himself with the Force over the cliff side… And allow his free fall to the unknown below. He reminds me of someone I know. One who attempts to play a level higher. In that case, this young one will learn that playing one level lower sometimes undercuts such ambitions just as easily.The race was truly on now. Behind his mask, Darth Persevus smiled. This. Was his realm. Tag: Darth Dreadwar , gorzan
|
|
|
|
Post by Darth Dreadwar on May 15, 2017 1:25:19 GMT -5
IC: Blessed ToxmalbTurbotrain tunnel, the Triumphant Toxmalb's frown deepened at Hypnos' decision, before loosening when he realised the vague unease the Sith sorcerer's aura was likely to do with Hypnos' discomfort with organics' expressions. He was not offended by Hypnos, but rather concentrating on The Dark. The Dark did not forgive mistakes, and as the turbotrain whistled down the left tunnel towards the officers' barracks, Toxmalb feared Hypnos had made one. While it was intuitive that Xal'den be found in the barracks under his authority, the Dark had revealed Xal'den to be entwined with Tano - entwined to the extent that his death would break the Sword and sow chaos. Toxmalb was ancient, but he had not forgotten the powerful bond romance could forge. Nor the devastating effects of its severance. Yes, he had loved once, a long time ago, in a galaxy far away. It had been before he had come to Rhand, when sojourning in Firefist, one of several dwarf galaxies that orbited the main galaxy, all but the Rishi Maze being as unknown to cartographers as the Nihil Retreat whence Toxmalb came, and, thanks to the Celestial-wrought hyperspatial disturbance that encircled the galaxy, as unreachable. The only imprint Firefist had left upon the greater galaxy had been the nomadic and warlike Nagai. It was a Nagai, wild and free, that Toxmalb had loved. His name had been Qudrosh. But in time, the Sorcerers of Rhand had demanded a sacrifice. The True Sith were as unyielding in their demand as their ideological descendants in Known Space. And so Toxmalb had made the ultimate sacrifice to destruction. The Dark had smiled on him in return, and that blessing had been worth a thousand of Qudrosh's cool smirks. He would bless Alisha Tano in like manner. She would thank him. She would thank The Dark. She would praise Him and join him in his quest to liberate Him. The dark of the tunnel gave way to the uncertainty of grey. And the fascist white of Stormtroopers, guarding the small turbotrain terminal and the turbolift that lay ten meters beyond, leading to the officers' barracks on the deck above. They had arrived. Claxons were already blaring, and one look through the turbotrain's windows told the Stormtroopers all they had to know. The squad was some twenty strong, and they swiftly kneeled to provide better aim, some taking cover behind large crates that had clearly been waiting for turbotrain pick-up. They opened fire, crimson bursts of light chewing through the sides of the carriage. Tar exploded across the interior, painting the carriage - and Toxmalb - black, as the blaster bolts found their marks. But already the Shamblers were disgorging from their position atop the train, falling to the station deck with wet thuds, and straightaway began charging madly towards the assembled Stormtroopers, while the Technobeasts awaited their Lord's command. A New Imperial officer, clad in a black gabardine trenchcoat, activated his personal energy shields just in time. An Echani shield generator on his left wrist to guard against laser and lightning attacks, and a Mandalorian melee shield on his right, ensconcing him in a bubble against which the horde of Shamblers bounced off futilely like zoo beasts off transparisteel. Both were of finite absorbance capacity and longevity, only droids such as Droidekas being able to withstand the intense radiation of powerful and theoretically infinite personal shield generators, but they were doing the trick. Smiling with the thrill of imminent battle, the officer drew a wickedly sleek chrome blaster pistol, and fired through the swarm straight at Hypnos. TAG: Darth Catalyst--- IC: Crying monster with a crushUnder Shira's bed, the Triumphant The more Shira writhed, the deeper the Pit Horror dug in its claws, pulling her inexorably towards the gash of a grin that split reality. She was seconds away from annihilation. But consider the legends of every world. What is the darkness always afraid of? Consider the mother who comforts the child. Mommy, mommy, he says, there's a mother under my bed. And then she grabs a flashlight, and casts its illumination underneath, and the fear is dispelled, the monster of his imagination banished. Fire. Fire and a lightsaber, a silver torch sprouting from Shira's hand while molten durasteel was flung towards its gleaming eyes. The monster squealed, releasing her to claw at its eyes, but like a child dealing with the discomfort of an eyelash, it only rubbed the glowing liquid metal deeper. It was blinded. It was angry. It was hurt, in more ways than physical. It did not understand; why did Shira keep hurting it? It did not want to hurt her. It wanted to love her, in the way only Death could. Grant her eternal bliss, because she was pretty and she deserved it. It wanted her to love him back... Maybe if it elicited her sympathy, she would comfort it, sooth it, wipe away its black tears. Maybe she would give it its first kiss, so it could vomit its essence into her orifice and let her be claimed by the Rot forever. It sunk its claws into the steaming ruined craters of its eyes, and black fluid gushed from the holes in its carapace, snuffing out the fiery embers. The tar splattered towards the wounds in Shira's ankles, where the abomination's claws had punctured skin. TAG: Shira--- IC: Dy'nonik'iss Cathedral of the Holy Jedi Spirits, OdessenThe pause stretched in corpulent pregnancy, danger and urgent thinking weighing every second that passed. The significance of the moment could not be understated. The value of the Holocron could not be stated at all; truly its meaning for the future was beyond words. "I have underestimated you," Persevus spoke at last. Oh, you don't know how true that is. "A clever multitude of bluffs illusionist. A word of advice." Another pause. "Very few holocrons possess rakatan glyphs in such fashion. They are surprisingly devoid of such things, preferring artistic imagery if anything at all." Persevus' knowledge of the lore served him well. No amount of disguise could mask the Rakatan glyphs, he had discovered, and Dy'nonik'iss wished he had been so insightful when faced with the same puzzle, but then, Insipid had disguised the Trap as the Holocron of Gorog. The Killik Sith Lord, who had reigned 30,000 years ago, when the Sith - the True Sith - had ruled over the Infinite Empire as immortal gods. The Rakatan inscriptions had thus seemed entirely unsuspicious, and thus had Dy'nonik'iss been outplayed. Of course, Darth Insipid had not known him as Dy'nonik'iss. He had known him as Darth Dreadwar. The Emperor of the Sith stared out of a reptile's sulphuric eyes, watching the unmoving Persevus carefully. The raptor's gaze was not cold by virtue of his tiss'shar heritage; it was cold by virtue of the cruel, calculating intelligence that wore his body like a squamous glove. Did I not mention Dy'nonik'iss was a liar? It had been two standard months ago, when Lord Dreadwar had been notified by the Imperial Reclamation Service that a Holocron of unprecedented Celestial heritage had been displayed at a ceremony of the Ordu Aspectu. Given that possessing such a device could mean the difference between the destruction of all life and preventing the release of Typhojem, Dreadwar had been entirely unwilling to entrust its retrieval to a minion. But the task he had set himself was not easy; he could not recuse himself from administrating his Empire, but his usual method, to deploy a Force-projected doppelganger known as a Phantom, would have been stymied by the presence of Ysalamiri. Lobotomising a minion through mechu deru would have offered alternative means, but the field of technological interference would have lost him such a technological form of possession as soon as his thrall was in the Cathedral. And so Dreadwar had turned to Nihil smokestone. Meltmassif. A silicon-based hive-mind native to the Mid-Rim, to Mindor and Nilrebmah, living stone that he had used to build his Monolith. Living stone that the Sorcerers of Rhand used to connect two or more minds across a distance, and puppeteer pawns from parsecs away. Thus, through the cobweb of smokestone laced through Dy'nonik'iss' brain, Dreadwar had found a means of possession that would withstand Ysalamiri, that would withstand technological interference. Of course, the downside was that this was not Essence Transfer. The vessel of his will did not carry his arcane might. Dreadwar had only Dy'nonik'iss' comparatively paltry strength in the Force to hand, and thus had to rely on pure cunning. It was enough to take Kint out of the picture. But was it enough to outmatch Persevus, rogue Dark Lord and Dreadwar's greatest competitor in their perpetual hunt for artifacts? "Sadly, I don't have time to play with you, cunning one," Persevus spoke again, raising his right hand and bringing his power to bear upon the pillar in the chasm. Dy'nonik'iss straightened. His tail scraped the floor, again as if he had forgotten he had a tail. That was because he had. Dreadwar was not accustomed to a tiss'shar vessel. "Oh, but we always play, do we not, Lord Persevus," he hissed with frightening familiarity, the need for pretense over now that Persevus had foiled his first plan. "Is it so hard to recognise me with scales and a tail?" And then the pillar fell. No traps were sprung, indicating to Dreadwar that the monks had positioned the Holocron in such a theatrical manner precisely to make thieves think there were all manner of cunning traps - to waste time attempting to figure them out and thus increasing their likelihood of being discovered and captured by patrols. He hoped the magnitude of his revelation, the shock of his true identity, would delay Persevus from moving after the Holocron in whatever fashion he had devised. After all, Persevus may not fathom his weakness; he would perhaps conclude that Dreadwar had all his power to bear, and thus be hesitant. Dreadwar contemplated jumping off the cliff. But now that Persevus had demonstrated the lack of traps, taking on the risk of a backlash if there had been as Dreadwar planned, there was a simpler option. He raised a tridactyl hand towards the plummeting Holocron, and called to it with the Force. Instantly, its momentum began to slow... And reverse. But Dy'nonik'iss was no Master; his Force power was focused entirely on pulling the Holocron, leaving him entirely vulnerable to attack. Dy'nonik'iss felt himself fly into the cliffside, hard, his rod-like tail snapping with the brutality of the telekinetic attack before falling forwards back onto the shelf. Snarling, stars in his vision, he did not bother to even see whether Persevus had jumped yet, instead running towards the edge and plunging into the chasm just as the Holocron, falling again due to his lapse in concentration, splashed into the brook below. The wind whistled in the holes in his cranium that were his ears, but the chanting of the monks had conspicuously stopped. Only a few seconds into his fall, the Jedi had raced from their halls to the opposite side of the cliff, and bolts of holy emerald lightning raced across and into the abyss towards Dreadwar and Persevus. A veritable artillery barrage of Electric Judgment. TAG: elu--- COMBO WITH GORZAN
IC: Kint Dranlor and Darth ArdeurRakatan Mind TrapKint frowned, confused by his surroundings. Then, reality slowly dawned upon him. "No.... NO!" He looked at the woman, and nearly swung at her with rage. Instead he was forced to take out his anger by smashing his fists at the nothingness, pointlessly attempting to get out. Finally, he calmed himself. "Who.... who are you?" Ardeur's prodding finger froze, as if fear clutched the fragmented heart of the imprisoned Sith at Kint's fury. When she spoke, her voice was hesitant, trembling, the ghost of memory warping its sepulchral tones. "Ardeur was a Lady of the Sith, one-time consort of the Dark Lord Insipid," she said. "I am... I am what's left of her. He... He sacrificed me. It was not... It was not a betrayal. We chose to... Die together, to be lost together, to defeat a greater evil." She shook her head in bitter disappointment. "Only to buy a mere five years of reprieve, our foe freed, our foe..." An angry sneer marred her countenance. "Our foe corrupted him with lying whispers, and together they... They ravished me, feasting on my soul to empower their escape." "Is there...... is there any way out?" Gorzan was desperate. He refused to be beaten easily, and he would do whatever it took. "I WILL escape, whether it takes a day, or a thousand years. So, IS THERE A WAY OUT?" The newcomer's desperation was indicative, to Ardeur, of his reality. He was truly here. Not a hallucination. A new victim of the snare. Her potential salvation. And of course this newcomer would only seize on the last word of her story, focusing on only his plight. Typical man. "Yes, there is a way," Ardeur smiled faintly. "One my previous... Cellmates, so to speak, fathomed out. Geniuses, both. One need only wait until another come along and touch the Trap... And then possess them, leaving their consciousness imprisoned and one's mind in their body." The smile widened, turned positively nasty. "The obvious question is why I have not done so to you already. The answer is frustratingly simple. It requires sacrifice... And permission." Her finger poked him again in the chest, before her hand fell to her side. "Yes, your permission. I can restore you to your body, but I would rather you let me have it instead. You might ask why anyone would accept such a proposition. And the answer is simple. I am the only hope the galaxy has for salvation." She paused, as if recognising her statement sounded unbelievable, as if begging him to ask for elaboration. Explaining this would be difficult. Convincing him to grant her permission to possess his body, particularly when Sith were known for deception? That would be harder still. "Do you have loved ones, my friend?" TAG: gorzan--- IC: Finger monsterBridge, the Triumphant Alisha's charge was perilous, given the body of Admiral Tharsus that lay in her way, and the fresh corpses of other crewmen littering the catwalk. But charge she did, lightsaber held out to her side, dragging it through the torso of feely fingers. The monster fell in two pieces to the deck. Black tar exploded from the bisection, splattering the catwalk, but the monster's blood appeared to have a mind and animation of its own, dogging Alisha's heels with unnatural speed as she fled the bridge. It was not as fast as her, nowhere near, but it would pursue her wherever she went. It would catch up to her... Eventually. TAG: Padawan4687--- IC: Darth TalonReception hall, Sith Temple, KorribanThe High Inquisitor sighed as Xirr turned to face her, menace suffusing his voice threateningly. She was a powerful Sith, indeed the most powerful of those who had formerly served Krayt, but years of torture at Dreadwar's hands had dulled her talons. Xirr was a Sith Master, also, and while she may have been higher than him in the complex hierarchy of the Empire, she had neither time nor certainty to prove her dominance. She could not risk a fight. Darth Talon glanced around, furtively, ensuring there were no other occupants in the cavernous, flame-lit hall. She leaned close and whispered anyway, just to be cautious. "Let me tell you why," she hissed, tongue flicking against her sharp teeth. "Let me tell you the ancient secrets that the Emperor has imparted to me, secrets he has told no other. That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die. Typhojem is real. The Immortal God of the Sith, slumbering in Chaos for thirty thousand years. Thirty thousand years. Since before the Republic, since before the Jedi, since before recorded history itself. And across that barely imaginable stretch of vastest time, his worshippers have sought to free him." She leaned back, fiery eyes narrowing. "The Sith. Not us, nor our ideological forebears, but the True Sith. The Sith species, thought extinct four thousand years, but only sleeping... Hiding in the depths of the Unknown Regions. They have awakened, they have prepared, and they will invade the galaxy in time, as Kreia feared, as Revan feared, as Palpatine feared, as Thrawn feared. And when they do, they will awaken Typhojem. They will awaken Darth..." She swallowed, paused, shaking her head. "I dare not even speak His Sith name, His True name. But I will dare tell you what will happen if He is released." Talon raised her arms, gesturing around her. "All life will die, Lord Xirr. Me, you, the Emperor... All the galaxy will be turned to ash. The universe itself will not be safe from His hunger." She scowled. "The ancient spirits of the Sith, who straddle the border between Chaos and the realm of the living, are corrupted to His service. If you do not exorcise them, they will corrupt you, in time... And perhaps it shall be your hand that turns the Key, and opens His Cage." "Shall we find that karking maiden's blood before that happens, Lord Xirr?" She snapped. TAG: dice--- IC: Darth ApollyonNear Dreshdae, KorribanShe was not unconscious, but the agonising pain shooting up her arm was enough to blind her to the world around her, only the clamour of combat making it to her dulled senses as she cradled her savaged wrist, desperately attempting to stem the flow of blood. Grey edged her vision, but she did not fall, remaining kneeling upon the sand, staring dumbly into the distance. And then it came. Relief. The darkness receded, the pain dampened, and Apollyon looked down to see sinew and flesh knitting itself together, arcane light shining from the interior of a wrist that had looked like mincemeat. The light traced along the gashes through her hand, and then it faded. The pain had numbed to a dull ache. But the sight was no less grisly at first glance; there was still copious blood. She wiped it on her trousers, and when the sticky redness cleared, she could see her skin whole, only faint marks denoting where the Tuk'ata had mauled her. Apollyon stood tremulously, and glanced at Lady Viscretus. Truly, the Sith Arcanist was a miracle-worker with the healing arts. "Thank you, my friend," she murmured, turning to look at the aftermath of the battle. There was what could only be described as a Tuk'ata kebab, Lord Catalyst beside it, clearly having been wounded also but his aura beginning to radiate renewing health. Viscretus had clearly healed him first. Hmph. And then there was Robyn Shaire, a manic smile twisting her countenance, another Tuk'ata slumped in front of her, a knife burrowed deep in its skull. It was dead. All of the hounds were dead. The jackal guardians had not claimed them this time. Robyn Shaire glowed with an unusual sort of power, and Apollyon, still somewhat faint by virtue of blood loss, found it in herself to feel pride. Clearly Robyn had truly embraced the dark side, somehow, but already she sensed the power leaving her. The dark side was fuelled by anger, by hate, by envy and pride and bitterness and cruelty. Robyn's flirtation with sadistic imagination about Apollyon had sufficed, but she had not kept the flame of malice lit; as such, the dark side left her as quickly as it entered, prompting a nauseating feeling of deflation. Robyn would have to learn, in time, how to keep the negative emotions burning and seething, a bubbling fuel to bend the Force to one's will. "Are we alright?" she called, her tone already annoyingly cheerful. Her gaze swept the battered team, and then swept the horizon. "Nothing quite like the smell of Tuk'ata kebab in the..." She trailed off, frowning. A plume of smoke rose lazily into Korriban's crisp air, and ahead of it, making their way into the other side of Dreshdae... Two dark figures. The walls on Apollyon's side of Dreshdae had entirely collapsed, and the settlement was small anyway, affording Apollyon a direct line of sight to Kevala and Scionica as they entered the ruins. They were less than a hundred meters away, and the twins would already be able to just make out the features of the blonde Sith Lady they could see amongst the four distant figures on the other side of the ruins. By dint of luck, or the will of the Force, they had found their quarry. "Catalyst, get up," Apollyon snapped with characteristic ungrateful arrogance, not bothering to even see whether the Inquisitor had regained consciousness. "We have company. Probably just Acolytes returning from the Valley... But the Force darkens with danger." TAG: Volshe, Darth Catalyst, Padawan4687, Shira
|
|
