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Post by Darth Dreadwar on Jan 25, 2019 16:02:45 GMT -5
I̢̜̥̖̻ͅͅC̶̘̰̞̥:̪̗ ̠̣̱̤̬̪̭D̖͍̪͜a̸̞̣̲̭̟̟r̩̕t̬̰͖̘̗͔͠ͅh ͓̱̗͉̜V͏̲͚̬̯͔̪e̳͇̺̜̝n͕͚̱o͖̰͍̬̠͕m̠͇̲̞͓ͅi̝̖͚̠̪̯s͉̬̼̥̯̤̳͢
̣̳͕ͅH̭̦̘͞o̞̲̮̱͇͖̮l͠d͈̠̠̣̀i̫͇ṇ̀g̴̩̲̣̟ ̗̱̼̥̕ͅc̢̣͖̺͍e̵̤̦͚l̨͔̗̼͓̘̺l̝͡,̺̖̗̮ ̞̭̻͟ͅN̝̘̲i̷͓̙͖͇͉̦̤n̨̞͓u̸s̥͇̲h͈̰o̗̺̩̣̣d̷͍͈͙̦o̼͈̣͕͓j͚͍̠i҉̣n̨̼y̧͓a͇̲u̗̣̦̙t̥̗͓͙̝͎̥ ,̷̤ͅ ̼h̜̮̜͉͉̺͈y͏̲̮̝̰̗̣͉p͕̣̼e͓͎͖̪͍̹͚r̯̱̱̫͙͎s͢p̯͇͎̹̳a͇c̛̬̲̫̜̼̺e͉͓
The Ancient One stared out through eyes not its own at the insects that would do it battle.
The mercantile mosquito made a circle around it, utilising some primitive thread, not unlike an arachnid's silk, to ricochet around the walls of the cell in a comedic attempt at assault. The Ancient One had access only to Persevus' native power, to the measure of Bogan Force endemic to the Sith Lord's crepuscular form, but that was sufficient; a mental sending raised Persevus' hand in a dismissive gesture, a wave to ward off an annoying gnat, and a buffeting wall of telekinetic power blasted backwards with the roiling power of a tsunami, aiming to break Kint's feet-first descent - and his legs with it.
The metallic midge fancied himself a master of control, but the Shard possessed not a splinter of power sufficient to counter Venomis' might, and the pain his efforts wrought upon Venomis' vessel were meaningless to it. The nanites seizing the nervous system were more problematic - to a mortal. In three seconds, control of Persevus' carcass would be lost. But Venomis was a god. In three seconds, even working through a mortal's limited form, it would stamp this insect to grime a thousand times over.
With a cacophony of noise, black tendrils of inky darkness lashed from its mouth like tentacles, flailing forth like the ravings of a kraken to ensnare Hypnos from every angle. Each tendril was pure dark side energy - a necrotic attack once used by the ancient Sith Lords, such as Freedon Nadd and Exar Kun, and long tamed to the service of the Sith Gods. The merest contact with one would be enough to smite Hypnos to ruin, and no defense, born of the Force or technology, could counter it. So long as Persevus was yet possessed, the tendrils would dog Hypnos' footsteps, as Zannah's conjurations dogged Bane's in their ancient battle on anathemic Ambria.
The blue fly it ignored entirely, for its quailing, quivering cowardice, crouching in the corner, was naught more than sport to the eyes, a tired but frequent amusement of mortal humbling before the presence of a god.
The red beetle it froze with a stasis field.
Two seconds.
IC: Darth Dreadwar, Emperor of the SithThe Pellaeon -class Star Destroyer Brigadier , en route to the Quelii sectorThe bridge was awash in the cerulean illumination of hyperspace, the silently whirling patterns of blue-streaked void a cosmic vortex into which the blade-shaped prow of the New Imperial Star Destroyer plunged like a spear thrown into an abyss to strike true at distant target. The vessel was a Pellaeon-class, named after the late Gilad Pellaeon, once Supreme Commander and Head of State of the Imperial Remnant, who had helped usher Palpatine's fallen Galactic Empire into a new gilded age under the Fel dynasty of Emperors - and paying the price for his rejection of the Sith by his murder at the hands of Tahiri Veila, apprentice of then-reigning Dark Lord Darth Caedus, over a century ago. Imperial resistance to the Sith's natural position atop their hierarchy had proved futile, of course; the Fel dynasty's New Galactic Empire had, decades later, allied with the New Sith Order, and its throne had been usurped by Darth Krayt. Now, although Krayt had fallen and much of the Empire had been subsumed by the ascendant Federation, its state-of-the-art fleets retained their use in service to the dark side, fighting the Federation's forces of democracy and plunging into far-flung warzones like daggers into the hearts of the Jedi. Or, at least, they had. Now, the Pellaeons served as glorified couriers, unnecessarily armoured and bristling with weaponry, the still-scarred vessels of war oft sitting in their docks between odd outings as the ceasefire between Federation and Sith entered its fourth year. This one, His Malevolence's Ship Brigadier, had been finally dispatched from the orbital space station above Korriban only two days before, breaking its three-year languish to purvey a passenger of great import to the distant star system of Dathomir. The passenger's name was Darth Illium. Her mission was more important still. Sith Imperial officers, still loyal to the memory of Emperor Krayt and trapped in terrified obedience to the new Emperor Dreadwar, bustled about the bridge in their smart black uniforms. The duties of a Star Destroyer's crew did not diminish with hyperspace travel; there were constant calculations and course adjustments to be done, brief drop-outs to be scheduled to receive holographic transmissions from Sith Intelligence, information to be processed, emergency battle plans and diplomatic protocols to be ceaselessly revised in case a Federation ship was encountered, and a never-ending medley of basic training drills and ship maintenance routines to keep even the more senior officers' lives busy. One or two noticed the arrival of Darth Illium, and, glancing up from their omnipresent datapads, moved aside. The others leaned over control consoles in bridge alcoves, sat furiously depressing buttons or holding hands to headsets in the two crew pits, or talked furtively amongst themselves besides large, angular viewports. None looked out into hyperspace - hyperspace sickness, known also as hyper-rapture, was a rare but statistically significant phenomenon of mental deterioration stemming from looking out into the maddening void too long. Captain Caracalla looked up from his datapad. He smiled behind his hideous black mask. "Ah, Daarth Illium," he said, in the ponderous tones of a refined Coruscanti accent that screamed 'Imperial,' albeit muffled by modulation. He did not salute her; while many officers did accord even acolytes of the Sith Order the respect due a Commander, the usual ambiguity of rank between the holdover Imperial hierarchy and the New Sith Order's own was lessened here some, as the Black Captain, as he was known - and feared - as throughout the fleet, was himself a Sith. More specifically, a Sith Master of the Warrior class - and that made Illium his junior in both the Naval hierarchy and the Order's hierarchy, although admittedly Illium was his superior insomuch as she was assigned leadership of the overall mission. The details of that mission, Caracalla knew not; unbeknownst to him, neither did Illium. All that was known was their destination. Caracalla was dressed in a swarthy Imperial officer's uniform, with a vibrosword of the finest cortosis-weave and an SE-14r light repeating blaster pistol hanging from his utility belt. One gloved hand seemed to always rest on the sword's pommel in a pompous mimicry of old aristocracy, complementing the boastful array of badges and medals that adorned his chest. The goggles of his glowering breath mask reflected Illium's own masked Miralukan visage.  "I summoned you here," he continued, intentionally wording himself to remind her that, although she may command the mission, he was still in charge aboard his ship, "because at our last drop-out, we received word from Korriban to await contact from the Emperor himself. I assume we will be dropping out of hyperspace before we reach Dathomir to receive the hologram." Caracalla turned to look at a junior officer. "Ensign, have we plotted a location for sublight reversal? We don't want to drop out in Federation space."
"Yes, Captain, we are--" The ensign was interrupted by a sudden and abrupt flickering of the overhead lights. The glow of hyperspace seemed to fade. For a brief second, Caracalla looked around, wondering if they had been snared by an interdictor mine and blasted by an ion cannon. The other officers stopped in their tracks, looking up from their datapads and consoles. And then a strange, sudden wind took hold in the bridge. The darkness thickened and curdled as pieces of flimsi flapped and folded, and Caracalla backed up from its seeming source in the centre of the bridge's central walkway, holding the clasp of his cape in place. A roaring sound, like the growl of some subterranean beast, reverberated powerfully throughout the bridge, as a dark, shadowy shape took form on the walkway. Caracalla drew his sword. Gasped. He cast himself down on the cold metal deck as fast as he could, like a man jumping on a live grenade, instantly sinking into the form of excessive prostration demanded by the supreme Sovereign. Standing before him, standing in the midst of the bridge a towering wraith of darkness, was Darth Dreadwar the Magnificent. Caracalla lay there, still, silent, hands splayed, his mind whirling at the impossibility. Ships in hyperspace, unless they were of such vast size that they created their own distorted field of localised gravity, were unable to receive holographic communications from realspace. This hologram - a hyper-realistic one, at that - was simply not able to be received by a ship the size of the Brigadier, let alone with such high fidelity of transmission, unless they reversed from lightspeed. "Rissse, Captain," came the seething, hissing whisper. Caracalla did as bidden, but remained kneeling, his head craning to look up at the fathomless empty hood of the unnerving projection. The life-sized hologram turned to face Illium. "Acolyte Illium," the Emperor whispered. "Essscort me to the privacy of your quarters. There is much we musst discussss."And that is when Caracalla realised... this was no hologram. |
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Post by Darth Xxys on Jan 25, 2019 20:48:34 GMT -5
Ziost Escape Shuttle Xxys I.C. Xxys felt the hypo-spray hit his skin and send the stim laden fluid coursing through his veins. Bacta patches applied to the few wounds remaining helping speed the healing process. Lord Pares had looked at Xxys and the Omwati woman, curtly informing them that...Korriban, was their destination. His stern countenance, and clipped tones, brooked that no further details would be forthcoming. Xxys settled into one of the jump seats and let the meds do their job. He was still not fully recovered so any rest was taken where it could be found. Meditation...fear, anger, and frustration. The cabin was awash in these emotions. The huge Knight that had been on the landing pad removed his helmet revealing a Devaronian male. He immediately began to eat dried meat of some kind and conducted a one sided conversation with himself. The Omwati woman kept her back to the wall and her hand on her holster. The rest of the compliment settled as well as they could in the available space of the medical shuttle. I shut out the din of their minds. There was only a slight shudder in the ships hull as a warning when, nearly an hour later, the shuttle suddenly lurched and warning sirens began to wail. One of the primary engines suffered a severe malfunction from damage recieved during our harrowing egress from Ziost. Dropping violently out of lightspeed the shuttles artificial gravity took a few seconds to compensate. Anyone not strapped in had to reach out to find secure handles and unsecured cargo banged around the compartment. Lord Pares erupted from his meditation and shouted at the pilots; demanding to know what had happened and to get them back on course. The pilot began to explain the situation, however the Dark Lords anger overrode his good judgment, and he took the pilots throat in an invisible grasp. Choking the man as the ship continued to crash. I nearly leave my seat to restrain the enraged Lord but the co-pilot made a hasty explanation and managed to steady the course of the hemorrhaging vessle. Lord Pares released the pilot; but not before rendering him unconscious. The man slumped over in his chair. The co-pilot fought with the ships sluggish controls as it again lurched. The co-pilot looked to his scanner and located a suitable moon close enough to facilitate an emergency landing. The engines whined in protest; the starboard belching smoke and fuel into the cold vacuum of space. Lord Pares moved past the open hatchway and barked "Just get us to that moon!" As he moved through the cabin he looked directly at the Omwati woman. She moved from the corner of the shuttles cramped space to the cockpit and pulled the incapacitated pilot from his seat. I quickly unsnap my belts and pull the pilot out of the cockpit as she climbs into the now vacant command chair. I place the unconscious man in a seat and strapped him in. Turning back to the cockpit I see that the woman knows what she is doing as she engages the fire suppression protocols and trys to stabilize the wounded ship. I return to my seat and resecure my safety harnesses. She flips a switch and the klaxons ceased to wail; turning to the co-pilot she asked... "So you got a name? Mines Lylia." @kai Erlae darthkain7dragonsith13 |
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Post by Deleted on Jan 26, 2019 7:08:02 GMT -5
IC: Trill Location: The Sinister Sith Temple, Korriban Trill would initially turn back to gaze at the looks of the temple after berating Malos but it was only a few moments later that she heard him talking back to her. Taking one back step and turning swiftly on her heel, she would understand him slightly as it seemed like it was his turn to berate her now. However, her mind would slightly change when it came to deciphering his intent and tone when he seemed to have took an apologetic one. Was he genuiniely sorry for disrespecting her or did it have something to do with her not fully grasping the language and he was simply using the tone to throw her off. Raising a confused eyebrow she would wait for him to finish before trying to decipher what exactly he said to her. Something about entertaining a girl which Trill assumed he meant was her. And brainwashed which sounded a lot familiar to the Rakatan word for obsessed. And then finally he said the words slave and masters which she knew well now. She would call him a slave to his face but using the Rakatan word allowed her to get away with it and say it as much as possible. Putting it together all in front of him she figured he was trying to insult her faith and how much it mattered to her. “It no my fault that you no believe in thing. You less with no Daritha. But I no talk about it no more. But you no laugh at me kilajin!” She would finish speaking to him and then turning back around to focus on the cave around her. She would examine the detailed layout of the place and wondered if there was any torches for her to find and light so they could see better but after a moment she decided on a better route. Taking out her force saber she would activate it before looking back to Malos as she knew she would probably need him to get through the temple just as much as he probably needed her for something. “Let go Malos.” But before she could even try to take charge she would notice that Malos was already walking off in a direction towards a room. Opening the doors before hearing a roar and seeing the door be closed before Malos make a smart yet not funny quirk. Figuring she could probably take on the beast or at least examine it and see what was going on in there she would look to Malos before walking up to him again as she had an idea. Once in front of Malos she would look back to Trinaya and Volacius before back to Malos once more. “We should see what is. We take on what there. We win Malos.” She explained before wondering if the man would join her. Tag: darthkain7, cliojayne, volacius |
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Post by darthferos on Jan 27, 2019 17:51:09 GMT -5
IC: Darth Feros Abysmal Mines Corbos Feros's words to the voices fell on deaf ears. He couldn't even truly make out what they were saying. He could only feel their intent in the Force. They wanted him. Not in any physical way, like Maladi or emotional, like Vayanna had. But, they wanted him. His entire being. That, however, was something he wasn't willing to give. So Feros kept walking down the tunnel. It seemed as though it was going to devour him whole if he let it. He listened as he walked, but he heard nothing but the faint whispers, and the click of his boots on the stone floor. They seemed to be getting louder too. The echos refracting closer and closer. Soon he could see the light of his saber glowing off the wall ahead. Except for the bottom, where the wall should have met the floor. But it didn't. Instead, it disappeared into the blackness of a chasm that went straight down. Feros furrowed his brow. He realized he had two options. Either return to the ship, or simply jump in. And he was keen on seeing this out. So he took a deep breath and filled himself with the Force, and jumped in, digging his saber into the wall to show his dissent. Darth Catalyst darthkain7 trentongordon |
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Padawan4687
Imperial Intelligence
.: Empress' Sword / Director of Intelligence
Posts: 133 
Likes: 112
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Post by Padawan4687 on Jan 28, 2019 2:58:41 GMT -5
AUTOHIT APPROVED BY DARTH DREADWARIC: Robyn Shaire
Location: Ermir Marcus's classroom, KorribanRobyn could have groaned as the situation continued to deteriorate. Couldn't she just get through this stupid class without trouble? Then again, there was still no sign of Master Marcus to break up this fight before it could start. "Take the newbies down a peg?" she glanced Slizard's way, almost surprised to see the girl was willing to speak to her given her almost melted face.. . "Why would I want two be even more hated than I already am?"Just as the question left her lips, one of the boys charged. Robyn found herself taking a quick step back, to ensure she wouldn't get caught in any crossfire. "For kark's sake...!" she hissed to herself. She hated bullies, and the Sith were just full of them. If anyone, especially her, tried stepping in to defend the new students, they'd get taunted just as mercilessly for being soft, Jedi-like, a goody-two-shoes. Robyn stayed where she was, pressing a frustrated hand against her chest until one girl decided to yell at the slowly growing crowd. Daring to call them cowardly, now that just might grant her a properly selfish opening. Robyn let a smirk cross her face, and she regarded Slizard again. "On second thought, maybe they could use some knocking down." That smile grew just a little wider, as Robyn adjusted her tunic collar to show the chains of her blue talisman. "You might want to stand back, Slizard," she advised, "I wouldn't want to risk melting anything else of yours." With that said, the Zeltron took a single step forward into the battle circle. "Teamwork? What the hell is that?" she asked first, sending a scornful glance around the room before turning on the bullies themselves. "The strong survive, while the weak perish. Hoping for others to help you is no way to make it through this place. No one will." As even as her cold voice said as much, she extended a hand with the other grasping the amulet through her shirt. With it's power bolstering her own, arcs of potent electricity coursed through her fingertips to strike the lot of them. The force might even knock them down, effectively pausing the violence entirely. She could only hope to "help" in ending this ridiculous scuffle, despite how she sounded. TAG: Darth Voidwalker , @lordjania , kurtishenschel , Darth Dreadwar ,
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Post by aureliaillium on Jan 28, 2019 10:51:41 GMT -5
IC: Darth Illium Darth Illium tried not to let her malaise show as she stepped onto the bridge of the Pellaeon class Star Destroyer, the Brigadier. The Imperial crew around her had the luxury of simply turning away from the cerulean vortex of hyperspace swirling around them. Illium could turn away all she liked, but the fact was that her peculiar Miralukan sight extended a full 360 degrees, and the vast metal structure of the ship was a dim, translucent grey. Despite possessing no eyes she could perceive, and to those perceptions fueled by the Force, the hull of the ship was as transparent as glass. The maddening swirling vortex of hyperspace completely encompassed her at all times....the energies of a billion stars, planets, nebulas, life forms radiated a throb of color and vibration before being snatched away from her attention and warped into a senseless void blur. The various auras of the Imperial navy seemed to float within the twisting tunnel, the grey flooring and furniture of the ship were simply dead, vibrationless hunks of metal that hardly registered as a visible spectrum. In her years away from Dathomir she’d never quite got used to that curiosity....the way so much of galactic life occurred centered around objects dead to the Force. But the hyperspace tunnel was a different matter....unable to simply turn her gaze away, constantly pulled into a state of vertigo by the ceaseless rush of twisted energy and the feeling of being untethered to a living planet made Illium very ill indeed. She’d spent much of the currently two day journey locked in the refresher, vomiting every ounce of food and drink she’d consumed in what felt like a month. She was able to erect mild shielding spells in her private lounge to close off the walls to her metal penetrating sight, and rest fitfully but her body still retched constantly in protest of traveling.  She left the solitude of her quarters only because she was summoned by Captain Caracalla, a prideful and boastful Sith that clearly held his titles dear. She could sense that much not only from the feeble spots in his aura but in his arrogant and accented tone. Illium however was not one to go and boast about any illusion of self importance. She knew well her rank of acolyte was lowly within the Sith, and any importance she had in this unknown mission was also an illusion. She would need to prove her capabilities before she dared to assume herself in any position of power. Leadership and rank were quite different. She couldn’t clearly see what the Captain wore, but it appeared to be armor of some type because his aura was constricted. Illium had received no orders to change her clothing to something more fitting of a Sith, thus she wore what she usually did. A long black lace trimmed dress, with a elegant but cheaply made grey bodice, the edges of the garment were ragged and frayed but for obvious reasons, she either never noticed or never bothered to repair this. A matching fraying half cloak fell to the level of her waist , a rancor leather belt lined within pouches of runes and Dathomiri herbs wound around her slender hips. Slightly muscular arms were wrapped in black cloth to cover wounds still unhealed, her callused feet were left bare to sense the subtle vibrations and hum in the floor. Her bright golden hair was unbound, spilling in a cascade past her waist, her bow shaped lips were cracked with dehydration from her malaise, but retained a hint of crimson lipstick. Her scarred, empty eye sockets were covered by an elegant silver crown shaped visor. Only in recent years had she taken to wearing the visor, much of her life she had no idea her natural features were seen as distasteful and horrific. She wore it only for the comfort of others. The shape was merely one that appealed to the touch of her hands, and rested comfortably on her brow. When she cast her projections of herself she could see them vividly, and using this projected mirror she believed she looked quite aesthetically pleasing, like a witch but not announcing herself instantly as a Nightsister. Like a Miraluka, but not a filthy Jedi. The captain spoke,” I summoned you here," he continued, intentionally wording himself to remind her that, although she may command the mission, he was still in charge aboard his ship. An unnecessary action she deemed , which only showed how dearly he clung to titles to vault his self worth. “....because at our last drop-out, we received word from Korriban to await contact from the Emperor himself. I assume we will be dropping out of hyperspace before we reach Dathomir to receive the hologram." Caracalla turned to look at a junior officer. “Ensign, have we plotted a location for sublight reversal? We don't want to drop out in Federation space.” “Yes Captain, we are...” the reign was interrupted when a sudden, eldritch wind tore thought the cold, metal confines of the Brigadier. Illium can sense the darkness beginning to thicken and converge around her, particularly in a tall patch right front of her. A beastial roar howled throughout the ship, echoing off the confines as the form materialized upon the walkway. Illium recognized the form, although she’d only heard it spoken of. It was a wraith like being that manifested, it’s aura the pure void black of empty space...no, not just empty space. Dead space. Places were life had once existed but either decay or violence had stripped it bare, leaving only a yawning fathomless abyss. That was the form that manifested upon the bridge, and it was so vivid that even details that were normally lost to her visually imperfect sight were crystal clear, such as the rusted cortosis armored gauntlets, the only thing vaguely human about the wraith. The ragged black cloak fluttered as if caught in a mighty gale. Before the Captain had a chance Illium fell to her knees in a deep bow, and lowered her masked face. She could feel Captain Caracalla’s confusion, smell the sheen of sweat rise under this armored, see his aura straining to grasp the impossibility of what he saw. He was still struggling to comprehend how such a realistic hologram could transmit in hyperspace. But Illium knew that was not a hologram transmitting before her. She knew it because no matter what spectrum they transmitted in she could barely make out a hologram. Holograms possessed no aura, no significant vibrations, just a trace of electromagnetic energy. What loomed before them warped the very fabric of space time with its aura. It could only be Emperor Dreadwar. “ Acolyte Illium,"the Emperor whispered, his voice almost a hiss, a stygian death rattle. “Essscort me to the privacy of your quarters. There is much we musst discussss." Illium took that as permission to rise. “Yes, your Majesty.” she whispered reverently, not bothering to hide the frigid goosebumps that rose on her skin. She rose to her bare feet and began to lead the Emperor to her private quarters. She didn’t fully understand how she’d come to be here. One moment she’d found the Sith again upon Korriban and mingled, displayed some of her powers which seemed quite rare among the Sith. Then unexpectedly received orders that she was to board the Brigadier, she was returning to her home of Dathomir to lead a mission of great importance to the Sith. She didn’t understand why she’d been chosen for such an undertaking, she could only trust in the Emperor’s judgement and in her own loyalty to him; and her own courage and wit to lead her and her team to victory. Failure was not an option. She keyed the entry code to her quarters, the door hummed open to reveal a sparse chamber that was littered with bones, herbs, runes and talismans of her own making. Furniture was pushed aside to ease mobility, and her mottled green gizka with a striped tail had just completed tearing a hole in her bunk and began to gnaw on the stuffing. The gizka looked to her with a wagging tail as if expecting praise for his work, than shrieked in alarm when it noticed the towering shadow behind Illium and dove for cover. She raised a few fingers and with a telekentic pull of the Force she pulled the trembling gizka out into the open. “Shipsbane, I have been teaching you the manners of the Sith. Now show them, bow before the Emperor Dreadwar.” she commanded sternly of the little beast. The gizka lowered its small body down to the floor with a bend of its large, amphibian feet, than promptly scrambled away, chattering in fear. Illium turned back to the Emperor, largely a vestigial mannerism as she possessed no eyes in which to position her body and politely regard him, and could still see him even with her back turned. Yet she’d been taught by the Nightsisters to turn to face a being or spirit she spoke to, even if she couldn’t meet their eyes. But the Emperor possessed no eyes she could perceive either, just a fathomless blank hood darker than a slavering supermassive black hole. He doubtlessly perceived the galaxy as she did. In many ways the Emperor reminded her of the ancient Sith spirit she’d once been bound to; a hungering void that latched onto her spirit and almost destroyed her. But that one wore a bone mask to conceal part of the crushing abyss that constituted it’s form, where as the Emperor didn’t hide behind masks. That ancient one was a broken spirit....a wound upon the Force....the Emperor was the crucible that breaks spirits, the blade that created Force wounds...and if the rumors were true he didn’t even need a blade in which to create such rifts in the Force. Keeping this in mind Illium bows again, and speaks, “Your Majesty, forgive the state of my chambers. I can cover damages my pet has made. Please, ask me anything you desire.” Tag: Darth Dreadwar, |
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Darth Catalyst
Citizen
Dark Lord Immortalis & High Inquisitor
.: Chaos and Cunning
Handling the Hand
Posts: 248 
Likes: 276
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Post by Darth Catalyst on Jan 28, 2019 21:35:30 GMT -5
IC Brooke Abandoned mines, Corbos The hot plasma blade carved through the stone wall of the shaft as Feros slid down the near vertical drop. His boots hit the bottom with a loud, metallic thump, and the wall behind him glowed a dull red where his saber left a large gash in the rock face. Feros had landed on a durasteel platform. The light from his lightsaber showed a variety of panels and displays that had been inoperable for centuries. It was the lift, designed to haul ore and other mined goods to the surface for ease of transport. The mineshaft stretched on in front of Feros, only blackness greeting him. A glint of red sparkled in the darkness, matching the glow of his blade before winking out again. Feros would be able to hear the shuffling of a creature scampering ahead as well. He was no longer alone down here.
Brooke continued forward through the cavern, her newfound and out of character confidence guiding her towards some unknown destination. Neither of the men behind her could sense any fear in her mind. She wasn’t at peace so much as a being that had taken three times the recommended dose of glitterstim was at peace. The darksiders could both feel a growing energy surrounding her. It wasn’t inherently light or dark. It simply was. She continued down the long tunnel unmolested. The flare that Corvar had tossed her way was left behind, as of course she didn’t need it. The path continued snaking deeper into the ground. Eventually it took a sharp right turn. The cavern opened up into a massive open chamber. Brooke stopped. The path abruptly ended and in its place was a deep, yawning chasm. Fifty feet ahead, on a lone platform standing precariously above the abyss, a sword lay jammed into the rocky ground. It gave off an otherworldly glow, as if light itself was emanating from the weapon. There was no mistaking it. This was the sword of Jen-sin Caal. TAG: darthferos, darthkain7, trentongordon
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Darth Catalyst
Citizen
Dark Lord Immortalis & High Inquisitor
.: Chaos and Cunning
Handling the Hand
Posts: 248
Likes: 276
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Post by Darth Catalyst on Jan 28, 2019 22:36:21 GMT -5
IC LEMMY & DARTH HYPNOṢ̳͕ͅH̭̦̘͞o̞̲̮̱͇͖̮l͠d͈̠̠̣̀i̫͇ṇ̀g̴̩̲̣̟ c̢̣͖̺͍e̵̤̦͚l̨͔̗̼͓̘̺l̝͡,̺̖̗̮ ̞̭̻͟ͅN̝̘̲i̷͓̙͖͇͉̦̤n̨̞͓u̸s̥͇̲h͈̰o̗̺̩̣̣d̷͍͈͙̦o̼͈̣͕͓j͚͍̠i҉̣n̨̼y̧͓a͇̲u̗̣̦̙t̥̗͓͙̝͎̥
The chaos unfolding around them was almost too much for old Lemmy to bear. He’d seen some disturbing sights in his time but never before had he watched a man so idly command the Force with such vast power and expel deadly tentacles from his face at the same time. He had no clue how to combat such a menace. He wasn’t even sure why Kint wanted this monstrosity alive. Lem sure wasn’t about to transport that in his ship. He was still trying to reason how he got here in the first place. Getting attacked by space ghosts and tentacle monsters possessing human corpses wasn’t making this stupid mirror he was supposed to find any more worthwhile. He wasn’t going to have it any longer. Lemmy stood from the damp floor. His muscles throbbed with rage. He intoned a Huttese curse that was old when the Republic was still young, the kind of words that caused proper beings to soil themselves and would make even the most toughened of Mandalorian warriors cringe. He flipped a clean looking switch on his plasma cannon. While the rest of the weapon had seen some wear over the many decades he had owned and refurbished it, this particular switch seemed like it was rarely toggled. Small text next to it was still pristine as the day the modification was made to the weapon. It simply had one word. DAKKA. Lemmy sighted in the head of the monster that used to be Persevus and squeezed the trigger. The canister of gas that powered the weapon funneled itself into the barrel and catalytic elements ignited it into a charged beam of burning plasma. The barrel of the cannon lit up as the continuous stream lanced towards the abomination that possessed the Sith Lord, ready to explode on contact. Even if it missed, the beam was powerful enough to chew through a starfighter hull in a matter of seconds. Lemmy was getting the frak out of here, one way or another. Hypnos had far less time to contemplate his actions. He saw the body tense as his nanites performed their assigned duties but they didn’t seem to slow down what was once Persevus. Hypnos knew that without a host body Venomis would have little control over the environment around him. He just had to be smart about surviving while his machines did their job. The wave of tendrils exploded at him. Hypnos saw them open like the maw of a squid, threatening to engulf him. He decided it was in his best interest to be elsewhere. He crouched, tucking his robotic legs against his chest and rolled towards the Mnggal-Mnggal infested human. The tendrils were coming from Persevus’s face, leaving him a small angular window to duck beneath. Hypnos then began a dangerous gambit. Using his command of Mechu Deru, he began overclocking the reactors and processors within his droid frame, generating immense heat. The holoprojectors fizzled and warped, revealing the chromed droid body beneath in places and the dank water of the cell boiled away at his feet. Hypnos knew he couldn’t keep it up for long without damaging his crystalline form, but he did know the heat would be far more harmful to the mass that made up Darth Venomis. He just needed to continue buying time. TAG: Darth Dreadwar gorzan
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Post by darthkain7 on Jan 29, 2019 15:12:53 GMT -5
IC: Darth Kain Abandoned Mines of Corbos Brooke had entirely ignored Corvar's jest, continuing forward with this eery determination that made Corvar's skin crawl. It was so unlike her to be acting this way, and a small, paranoid part of him wondered if some foul spirit was possessing her. But he shook away the thought, not wanting to dwell on it; confronting her about this would likely just end up with her brushing him off like she already was. He would most definitely keep an eye on her now though, in case the worst came to pass. The more he focused on her, the more he worried. There was a sense of utter fearlessness about her, and a certain energy was building around her, ascending in potency with each step she took. It did not help Corvar's paranoia in the slightest, causing him to instinctively reach for the lightsaber he'd placed on his belt earlier, when Reaper ran off to fight a figment of his imagination. The paranoia turned on Corvar now, for he realized that he was the only one who seemed sane in these blasted caves. We're Reaper and Brooke losing themselves here? Or was Corvar the one going mad? It was then that Corvar realized that the truly maddening force in his mind was the suspicions, the paranoia. He shut out the thoughts, deeming them as lunacy. Corvar refused to lose his mind, even more so than he ever refused to lose his life. At least death was an end. Living on as a prisoner in your own body… that was something Corvar denied entirely. He would rather be dead than not have possession of his own mind. Leaving Brooke be, for now, Corvar followed behind her, the glow rod in his left hand. It cast a green glow along the surface of the to walls and floor, reflecting a bit off of the water that lingered within here. It would appear that the mining facility had been built within a natural cave system; it was just strange that they had found no bodies of water anywhere so far. The path led Brooke, Corvar, and Reaper downward the further they walked, until they eventually came to a sharp right that granted them access to a gargantuan open chamber. A glint of light caught Corvar's eyes, and he nearly leaped for joy. A sword, imbued with light and shining in the darkness like a beacon, was planted into a stone platform in the middle of the chamber. The catch? It was surrounded by a chasm, which to the naked eye appeared to be absolutely bottomless. Corvar sensed a trick, and wasn't afraid to let the others know. “Who wants to bet credits that the platform will collapse when someone pulls the sword from it?” he asked, eyeing Reaper in case the man tried to foolishly leap to the platform and rip the sword free. Dozens of possibilities were bouncing around in Corvar's head, most of them fantastical and based on stories he'd heard as a child. What if only someone the sword deemed worthy could lift it? What if it was an illusion? What if pulling out the sword triggered a trap, or awakened some beast from below? Too many thoughts passed through at one times, leaving Corvar's mind jumbled as he tried to piece together their best course of action. “How about we try to pull the sword towards us with the Force instead of pulling it out by hand?” Corvar suggested. “That way, if I'm right, we get the sword and no one here gets to fall to their death.”TAGS: Darth Catalyst , trentongordon , darthferos TAGSET: Corbos Attachments:
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Post by volacius on Jan 30, 2019 15:02:24 GMT -5
IC: Trinaya (and locket), and Volacius Location- The Sinister Sith Temple Trin was locked in on her new companion so much she barely noticed the argument going on in front of her. She followed absentmindedly, not paying much attention until the loud roar. That caused an instant reaction- eyes up and alert, left hand locked around the locket -keep me safe- right hand poised on her lightfoils hilt. She didn’t want to go into that room. It felt odd agreeing with Malos completely, but that room was not safe -KEEP ME SAFE-. Conversely, Volacius was intrigued by the harrowing noise. He hadn’t brought his blades to bear against anything since the Tuk’ata he’d killed at the start of their mission, and as much as he did want to return to the academy, perhaps a little mindless killing would do him some good in the meantime. It would, at the very least break up the boring slog that had made up the vast majority of their time spent out in the desert, and there was the added benefit that, were he to slay some horrible beast, it might just impress Malos and gain him some prestige when they finally returned from their journey. “Though she is deluded, I agree we should face whatever monstrocity awaits,” Volacius announced. “We are Sith after all, and whatever Trill is. Surely a mindless animal, however ferocious and bloodthirsty cannot hope to match us.” Hand still clenched on the locket, Trin backed slightly away from Volacius. He must want to try to get her killed so he could take the locket. That was the only explanation. Trill… well she was potentially as crazy as Malos, her choice wasn’t that surprising. Trin however, felt betrayed by Volacius. He could have been the first among her worshippers -a Goddess- but now she couldn’t trust him. “We won’t be going in that room. It’s not safe.” They hissed this to the room in general, but their voice was… odd. Trin and the locket were now more connected than before. Only together could they stay safe and achieve their goals. Though interested to know what the origin of the noise was, Volacius was not so enraptured by speculation to miss Trinaya’s response. She had again spoken with such an odd tone for someone who would presumably understand their own rank and how their status as a noble did not transfer to the Sith. More alarming though, was Trinaya’s voice. It had sounded just barely off, with what Volacius could only describe as an almost eldritch feel to it. It was genuinely unnerving, and Volacius began to wonder what exactly that locket was doing to her, and if it was a danger to him as well. darthkain7, @lordjania, cliojayne |
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Post by dragonsith13 on Jan 30, 2019 18:28:09 GMT -5
Draconis
Korriban Wilds, near the ruins of Ur ~ Approaching the City
Moving northwest the pair continued as the light from the star Horuset continuing to rise over the morning horizon, moving steadily across the cold barren landscape. The mountains, crevices, and landmarks of this land acting like permanently frozen actors in a play that had lasted eons, giving them the privilege of witnessing events unfold across time, events that of the likes few souls could truly imaging. Echos of the past hung in the winds that moved across this world, unnatural whispers spoke in the ears of the weak willed.
The sound of wood flexing, buckling, and splintering slightly was met equally by the sound of ropes stretching. Triggered with each step from either of the Sith Lords as they crossed the bridge, each step and subsequent response from the bridge echoing faintly across the valley.
Draconis swayed from side to side subtly, giving emphasis with his weight slightly as if goading the weathered bridge to break while they crossed, toying with fate in an almost sadistic bit of ill received humor as he had half hoped the bridge would have snap under the weight of his tepid friend Cruor and himself. For an almost sport like appeal, sending them both into the valley below. His mind flickered with a giddy sense of anticipation as they drew closer to the city structure in the distance, sensing the darker currents swirling below them which betrayed the malicious intents of countless souls and spirits wandering aimlessly in the many planes beyond this present physical one. A cauldron of energy that boiled silently unknown to all but those attuned to its rhythm.
In the valley below, the fading, crumbling, and sand covered bones partially exposed at the floor of the valley below the bridge they crossed was intriguing to Draconis. Eliciting thoughts of spells, rites, and incantations a he had a mind to gather a sample in due time if permissible.
Subtle waves of dark energy flowed across the valley floor from one distant end to the other silently bathing the whole area in a dark invisible cloud that yearned to reach up, but had no medium to do so with.
Coming to the end of the bridge and moving further towards the city, a small encampment of tents ahead was the only sign of any settlement or occupation. A fire burned and even at a distance, Draconis could feel the heat and lick of flames on his fingertips as he reached out. The crackling red hot coals and wood, burning as flames rose from them offering light and heat to any who was gathered around it.
As the pair continued to move towards the city and the small camp, Draconis’ hand at his side subtly and purposefully closed, ahead the flames of the makeshift hearth were drawn into themselves, appearing to be sucked out of existence, as if drawn back into itself, the fire ceased. Extinguishing the light and warmth it provided. Any gathered might be puzzled as to the sudden unnatural extinguishing.
Tarle
Korriban Wilds, near the ruins of Ur ~ Moving to the East
Tarle moved towards the east following the edge of the valley below, the rising sun offering a faint bit of light across the landscape which was still bathed in partial darkness. She could feel Cruor and her Master moving, having chosen to take the most direct path towards the city. Ahead she spotted noticeable, features rising above the earth, her steps slowed as she focused in on what she saw before her while reaching out with the force. There was something still, dull, but content and faint which cling to what her eyes saw. The initial rows of were almost figurine like. Captured and still in their places in the red sand. Tarle took up a crouched position, behind a slight rise in the sandy landscape, silently observing but not trusting her eyes. This place was devoid of visible life, but not of activity, as darkness swirled and permeated every crack of this landscape.
There seemed to be no way across the valley as she moved, aside from entering it wholly and her present path took her near these figurines rising from the blood red sand of this world. In the far distance the morning sun had begun to illuminate the tip of a large mound and earth formed structure. The sight of it elicited images of a hive like structure or burrow. The previously observed bridge and subsequent presumed death trap which her Master and Cruor now navigated seemed the now less troublesome option. She knew Draconis would be expecting her to be making her way, across the valley in her own manner, but she aired on the side of caution at the moment. Reaching out with her senses to gather a semblance of what was before her.
Darth Dreadwar , Darth Cruor
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Post by darthkain7 on Jan 31, 2019 2:06:27 GMT -5
IC: Darth Malos and The Locket The Sinister Sith Temple “We should see what is. We take on what there. We win Malos.”Malos wanted to blast this girl into the wall with lightning by this point. She had not even seen what he'd seen, and she wanted to charge in and fight it, no matter what it was. Sure, Malos liked to live dangerously, but there was nothing of value in that building; just the horrifying possibility of death: the one thing Malos was afraid of. “Though she is deluded, I agree we should face whatever monstrocity awaits. We are Sith after all, and whatever Trill is. Surely a mindless animal, however ferocious and bloodthirsty cannot hope to match us.”Malos turned towards Volacius and sighed, “Oh, not you, too.” Why did the one thing that Volacius and Trill agree on have to be this? He just prayed they left well enough alone so they'd walk out of there alive. But the last sentence of what Volacius said made Malos chuckle. Volacius’ overconfidence would be his undoing, whether here or in the future. But Malos was not about to stop him or Trill. Just because Malos was wise enough to avoid danger doesn't mean he was so controlling as to not let others suffer for their choices. “We won’t be going in that room. It’s not safe.”Malos would have applauded the wise decision on the part of Trinaya, but the way she said it made him worry. There was a sharp hiss as she spoke, and he had a feeling that the “we” was not referring to Malos and the others. That locket was really taking hold of her. “Alright,” Malos spoke, throwing his hands up in a sign of surrender, “Trill and Volacius can go in there and see for themselves. Trin and I will stand out here with a headstart in case one of you tries to be brave and mess with the control terminal in there.” This, of course, would make little sense to any of them, but Malos did not care; they would see what he meant rather quickly. ___________________________________ “Trinaya, sweet summer child, Awaiting you here are creatures most vile. This is not to be my place, We are moving at too slow a pace. The temple is where we must go, Where we will face my oldest foe. Keep me safe, Or lose your face!” ___________________________________ Trill and Volacius would head inside, past the doors that had been blown away by Lord Malos. The first thing to hit them would be the stench. It would smell of death and rotting flesh, along with the rancid odor of animal feces and decaying food. The smell alone would be enough to send most running for the hills, but what lied inside was far more fear-inducing. Ahead were four cages, the bars made of rusted iron. Inside each of them was a single Tuk'ata. However, these Tuk'ata were far different from the pack that Volacius and Trinaya had encountered early. The biggest, most noticeable difference was that the Tuk'ata from earlier we're very much alive. Each of these beasts we're utterly decayed, their flesh peeled away from their bones and hanging loosely from their skeletons. Their bellies were absolutely non-existent, the little remaining flesh sticking to their spinal cords. Their eyes glowed an unnatural golden yellow, the glow permeating through the darkness as the nearby torches on the walls had not been lit in centuries. The Tuk'ata snarled at the sight of Trill and Volacius, but made no motion towards them, even in their cages. Of course, that would have only grabbed their attention for a thought's breadth, for it became quite apparent what had made Malos refuse to return inside here. The roar from before, only much louder, sounded off from their left, turning their attention to a much larger cage than the others. Inside of it was a monster bred in only the worst nightmares. A Rancor, just as undead as the only beasts in this room. Nearly twenty feet tall, the lifeless creature wrapped its bony claws around the bars that encased it, the metal creaking under the beast's immense strength. Had it retained the muscle mass it had when it was alive, it likely would have snapped the rusted metal. But for now, it seemed Trill and Volacius were safe. Just ahead of them was a control terminal of ancient design. Yet somehow, it remained functional. Was there someone here, maintaining it? The writing on the terminal was in some strange dialect of the Sith language, one neither would have seen before. But it would seem oddly… inviting. As if some invisible hand was guiding them towards it. What harm could come with studying this ancient technology? Imagine what they could learn! TAGS: @lordjania , cliojayne , volacius TAGSET: Sinister Sith Attachments:
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Reiis Invadator
Citizen
.: Konstig Krigare
(Tag as "@kaierlae")
Posts: 52
Likes: 37
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Post by Reiis Invadator on Feb 2, 2019 14:24:55 GMT -5
IC: Kai Erlae It had been an hour since Kai had carefully packaged the bantha jerky and replaced it to his bag. Rations were, well, rations, and one couldn't be too careful with extra food. Especially when the price has been hiked to a full 9 credits for a small parcel of the meat. It probably wasn't even bantha... Both Kai and It remained in a wakeful resting state. Not much to do now but wait. Wait wait wait, fight more some, then wait again. At least he wasn't hungry anymore. And It was calm as well, as if drowsy itself from the food. It had probably fallen asleep, Kai guessed. Well, it wouldn't be asleep for long. A violent shudder throughout the ship left no one asleep, and Kai quickly reached for the handlebar not far away from his position. He remained seated, knowing very well there was little he could do. Especially with Lord Pares in his state of anger. Pilot unconscious, Lydia piloting, and this Xxys person standing around. As soon as Pares left, Kai immediately rushed to the unconscious pilot's side, turning him over to examine him. "Damn," he hissed. No food. TAG: darthkain7 , Darth Xxys , dragonsith13 , |
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Post by dragonsith13 on Feb 5, 2019 14:15:23 GMT -5
~GM update part I of II ~
~Sith Shuttle ~ Unknown moon~Lords Pares watched as the Omwati girl moved into the cockpit, Xxys had assisted in moving the passed out pilot to make room for her in the pilot's seat. While the hopeful Xxys secured the injured pilot in a seat just outside the cockpit, Lylia was busy settling in at the controls, offering up some initial chit-chat as she began to initiate and assist with the shuttles course to the moon. Pares continued to pace, as he paid their actions no mind, towards the rear of the shuttle. He moved past the two troopers equally paying them no mind as he went about his own thoughts. Another minor explosion could be heard as its reverberations echoed through the hull of the shuttle, it was not enough to send the shuttle of course but was a reminder that they were in a “sinking ship” so to say. Both of the troopers remained seated, bracing themselves as best they could for a moment. Another small explosion, and then the sound of the fire suppression system kicking in, the sound of fire foam, building on the hull in the direction of one of the explosions. The trooper Kai, with Lord Pares having moved past him, moved up in the compartment assisting with Xxys in stabilizing the unconscious pilot. Cursing at the pilots condition and perhaps the manner in which he arrived at such. There was a chime on Lord Pares, comm-link, the Sith warrior froze in his tracks as he knew whom it was on the other end of the communique. The comm-link chimed again. The sound of the comm-link could be heard in the cockpit, as the co-pilot looked over at the woman now next to him, where previously sat his pilot, as he finally responded to the previous inquiry to him from her "So you got a name? Mines Lylia.". The co-pilot turned “Lieutenant Sazer.” He spoke, as he toggled a control near him, “I’ve activated the distress buoy, launching in 3-2-1. Launch.” A node released form the shuttle exterior, as a small transmitter and space buoy was released. They were nearing the moon, now it was only a matter of seconds before they would have to begin a descent into the atmosphere or risk skimming off it and out into space low on fuel. “What was that?!?!” The sound of Lord Pares’ voice came from back in the main hold. Agitated and accusing. “Lllllord,” Lieutenant Sarez stammer out, ”the distress buoy.” The comm-link on Lord Pares wrist chimed again, he dare not ignore it further. Activating it the blue holographic image of a cloaked figure appeared. “Master, we are due to arrive at Korriban shortly.” There was the clear sound of another being speaking but it would not be audible to the others in the shuttle with all of the commotion. “Yes, my Master.” The Sith warrior finished, his head nodding and the holograph disappearing. He began marching determinedly back towards the cockpit, a growing anger on his face. “I never authorized you to launch such,! Pilot!!!” Lt. Sarez felt his own throat begin to close as the Sith warrior marched forward, clearly exerting force on the co-pilot with intent to do to him as he had done so to the pilot before. His rage boiling over and putting the entire shuttle in further jeopardy though he seemed not to care. Lt. Sarez held onto the shuttle controls, as the shuttle pushed into the atmosphere, the shuttle rocked violently, causing the Sith warrior to stumble slightly, his control over the co-pilot breaking as the man gasped for air, taking in a deep breath. The friction from entering the atmosphere was immediately seen as flames washed over the cockpit viewport. The shuttles hull was holding steady, but the shuttle was descending at a much faster rate then they could survive. The damaged to the shuttle from the multiple explosions become more evident, as several flight controls were incredibly slow to respond with the atmospheric flight showing their true condition, which was worse than expected. The co-pilot looked to the Omwati woman to respond with him, as he was already adjusting and attempting to make corrections to avoid them turning into a fireball or slamming into the moon's surface at speed. They were below the clouds now, still descending at too fast a rate. The moon seemed temperate, as a significant amount of forest and snow capped peaks could be seen. Alarms sounded as they continued to descend, the flames from entry were now dissipated, the fire suppression system continued to counter as best it could damage to the hull internally and externally. The shuttle shook and rocked, this was going to be a hard landing. There were no visible clearings. “Everyone BRACE!” the co-pilot shouted. The shuttle skimmed over trees, breaking the tree tops off instantly, as the shuttle descended into the forest canopy. The sound of snapping branched trees, metal being sheared off. A roar of sounds. Impact. Silence. Darth Xxys ,darthkain7 ,Reiis Invadator ,
OOC: Feel free to begin crafting responses, however I will be posting a Part II shortly which will set the stage for the next chapter to whihc you will post replies to.
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Post by trentongordon on Feb 5, 2019 21:18:25 GMT -5
IC:Reaper Location: Corbos Reaper followed the pair down the corridor. He thought the Miralukan was growing on him. Only slightly. Maybe they made a good choice with sparing her. He wouldn't admit it openly but he thought it. She could see what Corvar couldn't. She saw the creature. He'd kill the creature with his hands if he had to. He kept walking behind them his hand on his saber hilt at all times ready. He wanted blood. He would get it. As they kept walking he eventually saw them stop and where they stopped he saw a little gap. He didn't really matter how far it was he stayed focused on the sword. So beautiful. Just like his ship. He'd claim the sword, kill the hutt and then keep it and name it. What to name it though? And could he turn it to the dark just like with a kyber crystal? They'd find out. Before he could run to grab it Corvar spoke out against it. He shrugged and nodded. "We can sure as hell try your way first. Though I don't think it'll work. But let's do it. If not help me jump with a force push when I use a force leap and pull." Tag: darthkain7, Darth Catalyst |
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Post by dragonsith13 on Feb 6, 2019 17:53:17 GMT -5
~GM update part II of II ~
~Crashed Sith Shuttle ~ Unknown moon~The crackling of fire, sound of sparking electrical conduits, steam and gas escaping broken hoses and valves would be prominent inside the now crash landed shuttle. The sound of metal impacting metal as a bracing panel, dislodged and fell, impacting the holds floor with a loud clang. Wires hung from damaged cracks in the structure of the hull and the front viewport was smashed and with branches and leaves finding their way into the cockpit. A ringing impact in their ears, as states of shock, and sensory overload no doubt washed over them. Outside... The gas giant which had loomed so large in space was now even more prominent as the moon, that they were now on was in a close orbit to it, one would feel as if they could almost reach of and touch it. There was a slight breeze which moved through the upper forest canopy, the arboreal forest which was composed of mostly large pines. The air cold and crisp, with temperatures near ten degrees celsius. Think bed of fallen amber pine needles, coating much of the forest floor. The shuttle had left a path of destruction nearly a kilometer long as it plowed into the forest and eventually the ground. A dirt carved path of upended roots, stones, and dirt that eventually led to the shuttle now stopped in its tracks. Both of its wings sheared off, along with visible structural damage nearly everywhere. Somehow through the impromptu piloting they had managed to not turn into a full on fireball. Though the shuttle itself was a complete loss. There was a groaning from the main hold, as the once unconscious pilot was groggily now awake as he found himself strapped into a seat just outside the cockpit. Groaning in pain, but able to unbuckle his harness and stand, bracing himself against the bulkhead next to the cockpit. The shuttle hold was still hazy as a mixture of smoke, dirt, and debris hung in the air. Though a distinct bright light coming from the cockpit, drew his attention. Sunlight. They were on the ground, the moon? It had to be, the front cockpit glass was shattered in multiple places with branches piercing through it, a woman, the Omwati girl was in the pilots chair. He had last remembered everything going black and sitting there. His awareness flashed as he had not heard his co-pilot, Lt. Sarez his gaze darted over. With a heavy frown he turned away after finding his co-pilot. Where the man once sat, several tree branches were present, several of them even impacting an piercing the bulkhead behind the seat. The Lieutenant was dead, impale by a number of branches in quite the gruesome fashion. There was a sound from back in the rear, as the pilot noticed on of the troopers up and leaning near one of the emergency release hatches, which was already open. The trooper taking a moment to look out and begin surveying what was outside and if the exit could be used to get out of the ship. The bacta tanks were all smashed, as the fluid had spilled out and leaked down through the holds plating into the ship. A large medical table upended and had cleaved the medical droid in two. The droid spasm'd as its systems failed to respond properly as a sound of electronic dribble emanated from its vocabulator as it seemed to be slowly ceasing to operate. Lord Pares was not to be seen... Darth Xxys,darthkain7,Reiis Invadator,
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Darth Cruor
Citizen
Undead Lord of the Sith
Posts: 29
Likes: 46
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Post by Darth Cruor on Feb 6, 2019 21:17:27 GMT -5
OOC: Going to do a small retcon to get Claimh Solais into the mix. IC:The LorekeeperGreat Library, Sith Temple on KorribanBefore the door closed fully a hand grabbed the door, “Lllorekeeper?” An obviously terrified acolyte stammered. The Lorekeeper scowled and the acolyte averting his eyes, “One more apprentice, sshe just arrived.” The acolyte turned and hurried off, afraid that if he stayed longer he would be punished, it had happened for far less offenses. The old arcanist placed eyes on the green eyed woman, pretty to a man who was interested in such things. All the Lorekeeper saw was a specimen, something to be used to his advantage, expendable like the others. “it will suffice”, the words a whisper heard only by him. His mouth twisted into a horrid grin, thin lips parted to reveal a mouth of broken and rotting teeth. “Please, do come in.” The red haired apprentice could see past the foul smelling Lorekeeper, the door to his inner chambers open far enough to catch a glimpse of Darth Abaddon and Bernael. The chambers were full of books just like the other parts of the library, in addition to rare tomes there were holocrons, metal scrolls, a wide variety of talisman and jewelry. Even to the untrained eye these pieces were clearly valuable, and most empowered by the Force in some way. Against a nearby wall was a large, messy, desk. The others side of the room contained a large table, and on the wall behind it a closed door. What drew the attention of all was a globe, a golden crystal sphere to be precise, and was slightly larger than a Gamorrean skull. Not only did it stand out visibly, but they could feel a power radiating from it. “tell them about the globe” The whisper urged. “The Golden Globe,” the Lorekeeper said, “Exar Kun was a powerful Sith, but not very imaginative. He should have…” The whisper in his head interjected, “not now! nobody cares what you think it should be called” The Lorekeeper seemed to pout for a moment before continuing, “He used it to trap hundreds of Massassi children, siphoning their power over time. We, I, yes, I wish to access it but cannot do so without your assistance.” After shuffling over to the globe he turned to motion the others to come near, “We will all have to place hands upon sphere, our combined strength should make the barrier preventing access fall.” His hand motioned again, clearly impatient. Tag: darthkain7 , darthbernael , claiomhsolais
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Post by darthvoxyn on Feb 7, 2019 21:36:26 GMT -5
Name: Darth Vitani Age: 25 Sex: Female Species: Hapan Homeworld: Hapes Occupation: Sith Assassin Appearance: Unaltered appearance she has blonde hair down paster her shoulder blades with green eyes and high cheekbones, a slime build and five foot and eight inches tall Weapons: Red Lightfoil, two Shikkars, cigarette box dart gun, three smoke grenades Equipment: Nssiss Class Chiss Clawcraft, Lightfoil, Shikkars, various different outfits depending on what her mission requires, smoke grenades Abilities: Vitani chose to focus solely on Makashi when it came to lightsaber combat. With the ability to change her face and see past events by touching objects she is able to track down and stalk targets unnoticed and prefers to use Spear of Midnight Black or a cigarette box poisoned dark gun she made herself to kill her targets quietly preferring to only use the lightsaber when she can’t just use stealth to get away. In instances where a large distraction is needed she uses pyrokinesis to start fires around the place to draw attention away from the area she needs to be. Personality: Sarcastic and an in general smart ass, a stark contrast to her brothers tendency manners and polite word choice in conversation. Has come to the conclusion that without the empire personal power is meaningless and thus does not take part in the infighting and plotting against fellow sith at the detriment of the empire that is common among sith, is not likely to betray her fellow sith but if she is betrayed she will stop at nothing to kill the one who betrayed her. Biography: Darth Vitani was born to the Hapan Noble House of Endara’ta under the name Anael and along with her twin brother was the last heir of the house that had fallen from prominence. Since they were the houses last hope for regaining its former influence among the Hapen nobility and the continuation of the house when the force sensitivity of her and her brother manifested they were forced to keep it secret so they wouldn’t be taken by jedi or sith. While her brothers force sensitivity was shown through telekinesis Vitani was able to see events that already happened by touching an object associated with the event and exhibited unique ease in changing her appearance which she would often use when she would sneak out to play so anyone who found her would not recognise her. To the dismay of her family though Vitani exceptionally beautiful she was a tomboy and did not care for the nobilities balls and the mannerisms expected of her as the heir of the house though she was required to learn them, she much preferred playing with her brother and when she wasn’t playing with him she enjoyed tinkering and making little inventions. When she was 18 another noble house whose daughter was a potential candidate for betrothal to one of the Queen Mothers sons orchestrated the murder of her entire family in an attempt to eliminate her and increase the chances of their daughter getting in line to potentially become Queen Mother though Vitani and her brother managed to escape and went into hiding. Rather than staying in the cities they decided their best way to avoid being found was staying in the wilderness so they went deep into one of Hapes largest forests along the mountains for a “extended camping trip as her brother liked to call it to try to put a little positivity in their lives. While they were in the forest they found a cave with a dead body they would eventually find belonged to a dark jedi and three old sith holocrons. Managing to access the information within them the twins began to learn to control the force. Vitani learned how to call energy from the force and form it into an imperceivable spear. One day while Vitani was on a trip to the city to steal food using her ability to change her appearance to hide herself she heard of a ball being hosted by the family she knew had her family killed and decided it would be the best opportunity to avenge her family. Sneaking into the party disguised as a servant and then changing into a spare security uniform after finding where those were kept she spent most of the night learning the layout of the mansion and then later after noticing the matriarch of the house and the only daughter of the house walk away from the party alone she followed the two and using the dark spear ability she learned from the holocron killed the two then left the property before anyone found the bodies. After waiting several months after she killed the two she and her brother packed up what few things they had and returned to the city discreetly and stole a starship to leave the Hapes Consortium to travel the galaxy and maybe find more holocrons. On their journey they found an old Clone Wars Lucrehulk Battleship and Providence Destroyer abandoned in space. Vitani took the Providence and renamed it the Iridescent Spear and her brother took the Lucrehulk. Together they reprogrammed the droids in the two ships to serve them and used the two ships as mobile homes they would use to keep the things they acquired and to attack pirates to steal their stuff for their own. After a while they were found by the sith and sent to their academy when the sith saw their potential. Over their journeys Vitani found a young solid black Nexu cub and took it as her own. Lvl 1 sith assassin Form II - 1 Force Defense - 1 Pyrokinesis - 1 Lightning - 1 Spear of Midnight Black - 1 Alter Image - 1 Force Cloak - 1 Psychometry - 1    starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Psychometry starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Pyrokinesis starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Darkshear |
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corinthia
Citizen
High Priestess Hesper / Jephego Rose
Posts: 45
Likes: 73
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Post by corinthia on Feb 7, 2019 23:15:14 GMT -5
GM Approved!
Summary:
Jephego Rose is an Iridonian Zabrak pirate and bounty hunter with a penchant for credits and gold and a tendency to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Garrulous, gaudy, aggressive, and cocky, she's well-versed in holding her own in a fight with her fists, a blaster, or a vibroblade and can fly (or steal) just about any ship out there. She takes no flak and believes the Force is nothing more than a hokey religion for gullible idiots.
Name/Title: Jephego Rose (jeff-FAY-goh rohz) Age: 28 (218/b. 64 BBY) Sex: F Species: Iridonian Zabrak Homeworld: Jedha Occupation: Pirate/Bounty Hunter Height: 5’11” Appearance: Jephego Rose is a tall, slender, and athletic Iridonian Zabrak woman; her long face is decorated with the traditional linear tattoos of Iridonian Zabraks and adorned with a multitude of aurodium piercings in her cheeks, lower lip, tongue, septum, and ears. Two large gold hoops in her right ear and a large gold hoop and long threader earring in her left ear is her signature earring style. Her complexion is a medium olive, and her honey-colored eyes are upturned and usually underlined with black kohl. She has long jet hair with narrow bangs that she wears parted down the middle and in two braids that start close together at the nape of her neck—her braids are decorated with plenty of aurodium cuffs, rings, and baubles. Her other piercings include three aurodium barbell knuckle piercings on each hand, and two dermal piercings at the nape of her neck. She has one gold tooth; her lower left canine. If it isn't obvious, Jephego loves gold; she wears aurodium rings on almost every finger, aurodium bangles, and at least one chain necklace. Her usual dress is a cream-colored shirt with standing collar and double-breasted flap (a la ESB Han Solo) tucked into a pair of brown fitted trousers. She wears a large deep purple greatcoat with oversized cuffs and gold details, and caf-colored boots with even more ridiculously oversized cuffs. She wears two belts; one with her blaster holster on it and an ostentatious gold belt buckle, and the other with her curved vibroblade. Weapons: One DL-18 blaster pistol, and a scimitar-like vibroblade. Equipment: If it were still 190 years ago, Jephego would tell you all about the love of her life: her YT-2400 light freighter and pirate ship, the Damask Rose. Currently, Jephego has no equipment. Languages: Galactic Basic, Zabraki, Huttese, various bits of other languages. Speaks with a thick Zabraki accent. Description of Abilities: Jephego is a very competent markswoman and swordfighter; she's handy in a brawl, likes to fight dirty, and isn't averse to shooting someone in the back to get what she wants. She's a phenomenally accomplished pilot and navigator, and is especially skilled at breaking into and hijacking ships of all varieties. She's relatively handy at mechanics, but can't work miracles. Knows a lot about Force religions, orders, and history, but plays dumb about it. Strengths: A fast thinker and even faster doer, street-smart, logical, and clever. Exceptional and creative pilot and navigator. Grade-A bullshit detector. Fast and convincing talker. Weaknesses: Not Force-sensitive, and believes the Force isn't real. Not the best listener and struggles to make good on her promises. Rushes into confrontations. Vulnerable to feeling displaced or excluded. Impatient. Personality: Jephego has a nasty habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it has her convinced the galaxy is out to get her. Talkative, gaudy, hot-tempered, cocky, and impulsive, she tends to act first and think second. She loves credits, gold, and nice ships above all else. She doesn't believe in the Force at all; in fact, she'll be quick to tell you off if you try to convince her otherwise. Chronic swearer. She's quick to make promises she can't deliver on. She doesn't like being told what to do and handles criticism very badly. However, Jephego's outward demeanor is an unshakable defense for a soul that's just looking to find where it fits in the galaxy—she's felt like an outcast for almost all her life. Biography: Though she was born on Iridonia, Jephego Rose and her mother moved to Jedha two weeks after Jephego's birth in 64 BBY. Jephego's mother, Jirika Rose, was a deeply religious believer in the Force, and thought it was necessary to raise her daughter on Jedha so that Jephego would be as holy and spiritual as possible. Jephego's father was a spacer who thought that idea was a load of bantha crap and disappeared just days after Jephego's birth; he was never seen since. Jephego's childhood was a sheltered one of poverty—Jephego and her mother lived in the Holy Quarter of NiJedha, where Jirika spent her mornings at the Temple of the Kyber and her afternoons peddling chintzy souvenirs to tourists. They ate little, owned little, and lived in a room barely big enough for the two of them where Jephego would stay while her mother was out. As Jephego grew older, she was homeschooled by her mother, learning to read and write and studying religious texts. She was sheltered and isolated from others her age. By age ten, Jephego had grown to deeply resent her homeschooling. All she wanted was to go to school and play in the streets with the other children. When the day finally came that she was allowed to venture outside while Jirika was off selling her wares, Jephego was confronted with her lack of socialization, and felt anxious and unable to step in and join the games being played in the alleyway. She hovered at the edges of the gathering of children until she was elbowed out of the way and pushed down by a rambunctious boy. Overwhelmed, Jephego retreated to her home. But Jephego was starving for anything other than isolation and her mother's religious texts—after all, no matter how frequently her mother said it, the Force didn't seem to be providing for them. They were still sequestered in the dirtiest, most cramped corner of NiJedha, where they starved often, and where her mother would abandon her daily to worship at a temple that did nothing for them. Emboldened and determined, Jephego continued to chip away at becoming braver and braver with the other kids that played in the alleyway, until Jephego was the one who did the elbowing and shoving. And she loved it. For once, she felt in control and a part of something. Once Jephego hit her teen years, she was questioning everything her mother taught her. She had begun to refuse to believe that the Force was even real; if the Force was so omnipresent and omnipotent, why did they have to work so hard just to survive? Didn't the Force see she and her mother were starving? Couldn't the Force do something about it? And if it's truly as fulfilling as they say, why did she feel so incomplete? Growing more and more restless, Jephego began to dream about life offworld. She dreamt about the father she never knew, an intrepid spacer with a ship who went on adventures and brought her mother trinkets. What sort of trinkets did he bring? Were they precious? Where were those trinkets now? Jephego wanted to go on adventures, too. She wanted to see the whole galaxy and know its riches! No, not just know its riches—she wanted its riches. Jephego sought out how to leave Jedha—she worked odd jobs until she could afford a ticket to Corellia, where she believed she could find opportunity as a pilot, despite having no prior experience. So at age seventeen, Jephego bade her mother goodbye, took a small satchel of all her belongings, and moved to Corellia. On Corellia, Jephego felt lost and small on a planet so big and bustling. She found work in a shipyard moving ship parts and making repairs, and worked there tirelessly, doing her best to not allow herself to succumb to feeling alone and out-of-place. She learned how to swear like the spacers who came through the shipyard did, copied their swagger and casualness, and observed with enthusiasm when fights broke out on the docks. She studied them with zeal; and when she wasn't watching the spacers, she was familiarizing herself with the cockpit of every ship she worked on. After a few months, she bought herself a blaster; carrying it on her hip was a confidence boost like no other. It was like a switch had flipped on, and tall, gangly and awkward Jephego from Jedha was no more—now she was Jephego Rose, rough and tumble shipyard lackey and aspiring pilot. After a year and some weeks on Corellia, though, Jephego saw an opportunity: pirates had come to the shipyard and were about to hijack the ship she had been ferrying upgrade parts to all day. This could be her ticket to a life of adventure and riches! She had watched them stealth into the ship's cockpit: three burly ones and a smaller pinkish one she assumed to be the leader. Mustering her courage and all the spacer swagger she could—she followed. Confronted in the cockpit with four blasters aimed at her head, Jephego swore up and down that the ship wasn’t operational, but if they could give her two hours to get it into flying condition, she would let them have it and wouldn’t say a peep. To her amazement, they agreed. Shoved off the ship, Jephego hit the ground running, hijacking a coworker’s speeder to race home, throw her clothes in a bag, and race back in time to pretend to fix the (already fully operational) YT-2400 light freighter. She faked fixing it for the better part of an hour, stashing her bag of clothes in an out-of-the-way compartment and scoping out a place to hide herself on the ship. So, when she gave the pirates the all clear signal and they began to take off, Jephego grabbed hold of a landing strut. Terrified of falling to her death, Jephego clamored to the airlock, and let herself inside—only to come face to face with Zeltron pirate captain Yana Medine pointing her blaster at Jephego and laughing hysterically. Expecting to be swiftly dealt with, Jephego flinched when Yana lowered her blaster and held out her hand for a handshake. Jephego had impressed Yana with her spunk. With that handshake, Jephego Rose joined the crew of the Silver Thunder, as the stolen freighter would later be known as. Under Yana's tutelage, Jephego learned how to properly use and care for her blaster, how to fist fight, how to pilot, how to use a vibroblade, and how to navigate the galaxy. Jephego absolutely doted on Yana and the seasoned galactic swindler and traveler that she was. With Yana Medine and crew, Jephego began to craft herself an image: she would be Jephego Rose, purveyor of aurodium trinkets and lover of credits, a flashy and charming scoundrel. The time she spent with the crew of the Silver Thunder was the time of Jephego's life—she wouldn't have traded it for anything. That is, until four years later when Jephego dumps the crew, re-names the ship the Damask Rose, and makes off with quite a considerable amount of loot, leaving Yana Medine and company high and dry. From there, Jephego zig-zagged across the galaxy, following whatever lead would bring her the most credits, collecting a crew of her own, and leaving a trail of mild destruction and awe in her wake. She built herself a reputation for her splashy and brazen personality and her ability to swindle just about anyone; she taught herself to be one hell of a pilot, and folks from the galaxy's underbelly began to recognize her for it. Jephego and her crew became known for their showy piracy and dubious bounty hunting methods, and Jephego savored every drop of attention it brought her. Finally, she felt at home. And for about a year, everything was coming up roses for Jephego Rose. But she had gotten a little too confident a little too quickly and made one half-assed deal too many, and soon found herself being pursued by the Hutt Clan and Black Sun for not following up on a deal. Forced into hiding, Jephego stashes the Damask Rose on some remote desert planet and spends almost a year narrowly evading capture until she finds herself at long last in the wrong place at the wrong time—and is handily apprehended by one Yana Medine, now a leader in the Black Sun syndicate and Jephego's new nemesis. Jephego spends several months in a Black Sun prison cell, until she's broken out by what's left of her crew and taken to where the Damask Rose has been hidden. And so begins Jephego's habitual cycle of capture and escape, punctuated by her crew's mutiny, the capture of the Damask Rose, the occasional bounty to keep credits flowing, and Yana Medine's tireless pursuit, until finally, after years of brassily negotiating herself into deals and promises she can't make good on, she's put into a prison she can't break out of: a block of carbonite. At 28 years old, Jephego sees her last glimpse of the galaxy as she knows it, and meets her static fate. Jephego's carbonite-encased body is loaded onto a cargo ship for delivery to a member of the Tenloss Syndicate in the Mandalore sector; en route to its destination, the cargo ship suffers a freak accident along a hyperspace lane, and with Jephego and a slew of other priceless artifacts sealed inside, the ship is left to float in Wild Space, deemed unsalvageable. And then she's forgotten. 190 years later, the cargo ship is found and unsealed by an intrepid junker, and Jephego is rescued. After a day of hibernation sickness that put Jephego near death, she's dumped and left to fend for herself in a galaxy she no longer recognizes—only to find herself once again in the wrong place at the wrong time… Force Level: 0 |
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Post by dwomutsiqsa on Feb 8, 2019 1:29:12 GMT -5
Name: Dwomutsiqsa Sex: Male Age: 50 (physically 20, Nightsister magick has increased his lifespan) Race: Zabrak/human hybrid Homeworld: Naboo/raised on Dathomir Class/Occupation: Sorcerer/Scholar Height: 175cm/5'8" Weapons: Formerly ceremonial curved lightsaber retrofitted for combat. Lightweight disentombed Sith sword. Wrist mounted lanvarok. Telescoping phrik spear with pure Cortosis wings. Equipment: Thematic Songsteel gauntlets. Bodysuit and helmet, both highly resistant to environmental hazards (also thematic). Robes and light armor sprawled in energizing Sith runes of strength and endurance. Abilities: Dwomutsiqsa is first and foremost a conjuror; not of cheap tricks but of beasts and traps. Most notably the spell Dwomutsiqsa, or "Summon Demon." This spell summons of smoke-like entity of pure darkside energy. Although it is unable to instantly disintegrate flesh like the Dark Side Tendril spell, it is more than capable of severe metaphysical harm and through a small but slightly time consuming ritual, complete absorption. When it comes to traps, the simply named spell, Dark Energy Trap, is his favorite. This spell manifests as faint shimmers of purple. It is an immobilizing spell. Jedi and Sith alike have been frozen in place by this spell. Their kicking, pushing, and slashing having no effect on the spell whatsoever. A great number have starved to death in the trap, leaving their still standing rotting corpses like macabre decor. starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Dwomutsiqsastarwars.fandom.com/wiki/Dark_energy_trapForce Powers: Dwomutsiqsa (see above) - 1 Dark Energy Trap (see above) - 1 Force Lightning - 1 Push/Pull (Telekinesis) - 1 Force Defense - 1 Force Choke - 1 Force Avalanche - 1 Shien/Djem So - 1 Personality: Dwomutsiqsa is an unintentionally aloof and ambitious individualist. He has an intense abhorrence for banality and will go to great lengths to avoid it. Rarely bored, Dwomutsiqsa seeks to maximize efficiency in, to put it bluntly, anything, and enjoys the meditation required. He is almost zealous in the Sith virtue of freedom from chemistry and therefore immune to the vices of lust and drugs. Often seen as fearless, when in actuality his fearlessness is simply execution despite anxious influence, colloquially put as "fuck it." Biography: Not much is known about his life before the Nightsisters and the Sith. This includes his name, but what is known is: he was born on Naboo to a Zabrak mother and a human father and he was sold as a slave to the Nightsisters out of desperation due to poverty. He was trained differently than the standard Nightbrothers. He was taught the use of magick and the lightbow, for his sect was paranoid about the destruction of the clan and believed he could be one of the last in only a few centuries. He was trained as a battlemage and remains so to this day. This primitive lifestyle was cut short by a violent but cowardly Sith peon named Sedicious. He slaughtered his sect and took the nightbrother as an apprentice. Under Sedicious, he would face humiliation and barbarous training constantly to compensate for his master's low status. All too often did the night brother take point in trapped, zombie infested tombs. He was not truly an apprentice; he was a meat shield. Sedicious attempted to follow in the Emperor's footsteps by gathering arcane knowledge and artifacts. A young Dwom, during a disentombment, came across the painting of a million-armed deity over an army of horned smokey beasts. The artwork affected him so much that he disobeyed Sedicious at risk of execution to learn of... whatever it depicted. It was because of this he earned his name. Sedicious had caught his apprentice and forced him to summon his own executioner for entertainment. He was dragged to a cold and barren valley and forced to recite the spell incorrectly. He was then stared down by a tall, gaunt, rotting corpse. It s white hair flowing toward the wind in rebellion of physics. The white, seemingly empty, eyes incited existential horror while its calf-length talons bred primal terror. To his master's suprise, the young Sith fought in spite of the almost paralyzing fear. By facing this creature and destroying it with the Force, he gained his name: Dwomutsiqsa. He would spend years learning arcane techniques, biology, weaponry, and political science as his main influence, Plagueis, forced his apprentice, Sidious, to do so as well. Now Sedicious is dead and Dwomutsiqsa seeks a place within the Empire. Strengths: High Force endurance / large pool of Force energy, very resistant to the tricks of the mind. Logical even during times of great stress. Ironically minded, he is capable of finding pleasure even in his own failures. Very knowledgable about an abundance of topics. All about efficiency, but not neccessarily practicality. Weaknesses: Below average physical endurance, compensated with above average Force augmentation. Aversion to banality and tendency to overestimate gives uncreative opponents a leg-up. Poor execution of extraverted emotion makes many interactions difficult. |
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Post by darthkain7 on Feb 8, 2019 1:39:42 GMT -5
IC: Lylia Sith Shuttle, Unknown Moon  _Pain. That was what awoke Lylia from her unconsciousness. Her forehead flared like it was on fire, as did her neck and her arms. On instinct, she touched her face, feeling a sting as she withdrew her hand and found her fingertips awash in blood. Her blood. She looked around to her surroundings, seeing frayed wires, destroyed consoles, and shattered transparisteel. Sitting to her right was a corpse, pierced with tree branches that had just seemed to miss her. “Lieutenant Sazer,” he had said what only seemed like moments before. That was his name. Didn't matter now, Lylia supposed. But at least he had gotten off a distress buoy before the crash. Yes, it was starting to come back to her. The flames of atmospheric entry engulfing the hull of the ship, Sazer gasping for air as Pares choked him to death, Lylia panicking to try and correct their course as best she could before the impact…. She made a silent promise to murder this Lord Pares for nearly getting her killed. But it seemed her luck had not run dry just yet, sparing her an untimely death. Now she just had to find out where the kriff they were, and set up a sign for whomever would discover the distress buoy. She prayed it was the Federation, or maybe someone under Kubjo's payroll; that way she could get out of here and leave this damned Sith to rot. But her luck had a funny way of providing what she needed, not what she wanted. Unstrapping herself from the pilot's chair, she realized that she had several cuts along her forearms, which she had used to shield her eyes from the glass. She groaned as she pulled herself from her seat, testing the stability of a hanging panel from above before using it to support her weight just enough to stand. Her legs, while wobbly, were left entirely unharmed by the crash, though the glancing blaster bolt from earlier had still left its mark on her thigh. It was then that she noticed the pilot that Pares had choked unconscious earlier was now awake, and thankfully alive. One of the troopers were outside now, surveying the area. The smoke and sudden sunlight had rendered Lylia's eyes largely useless however, as she could not tell if anyone else was alive or dead. At this point, she did not really care. “Looks like your friend didn't make it,” Lylia spoke to the pilot, stating the obvious. “Let's get you outside so we can get off this rock.” She then unbuckled the pilot from his seat, offering to help walk him to the rear exit in case he had suffered any injuries. TAGS: dragonsith13 , Darth Xxys , Reiis Invadator TAGSET: Unknown Moon ___________________________________ IC: Darth Abaddon Great Library, Sith Temple on Korriban A sudden jolt would be visible from Abaddon as her senses returned to reality. The Force had taken hold of her mind it seemed, for once she stepped inside the library, she had a peculiar vision. It was one not entirely different from her reality, but different all the same. She was not sure how long it had been since the vision began, but she now realized that the acolyte from her vision was still standing, and there was a new face in the Lorekeeper's secret laboratory. She possessed jade green eyes and flowing red hair; quite beautiful, but in the manner that a brightly colored reptile often was. She was dangerous, Abaddon could feel, and the most dangerous things in the galaxy were often the most alluring. Abaddon's attention was quickly drawn to the Lorekeeper's afore introductions could be made, however. The decrepit man explained what the orb was once again, or perhaps the first time; Abaddon was no longer sure. But the same feeling of unease from the vision filled Abaddon's mind now, and the Lorekeeper's eagerness for the three of them to place their hands on this Golden Globe only solidified that unease. “How did Exar Kun trap these hundreds of Massassi children in this globe, Lorekeeper?” she asked, crossing her arms. Attachments:
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Post by Deleted on Feb 8, 2019 8:12:33 GMT -5
IC: Trill Location: The Sinister Sith Temple, Korriban Trill would walk into the room as she had the hilt of her force saber out and ready just in case they were attacked all of the sudden. Immediately after taking three steps into the chamber she could barely see anything but the stench hit her almost immediately causing her to stop in her tracks and look around for the cause of the smell. As the seconds passed by her eyes began to adjust to the darkness and she would begin to see things ahead of her but they had appeared to be caged with one of them rising nearly all the way to the high ceiling. Holding her nose as she began to approach again she would stop again as she originally saw the shape of a rancor and smiled as she was used to seeing them back home and thought maybe she had found proof that the Daritha was here but the smile would disappear a moment later. Upon further looks, she would drop the smile and stop walking once more as this Rancor was by no means ordinary. Ignoring the dog like creatures as they snarled at her and Volacius, she would glance it over once before deciding to get a closer look at the lifeless rancor. Remembering her time growing up around her Predor’s tamed rancor, she knew how to approach them and care for them so the girl was naturally curious about the state of the remains and what exactly happened. Seeing the terminal of ancient design she would obviously be intrigued as she could tell it was probably older than her. Figuring she could walk to it as she kept the saber hilt in her hand she would see take a hard look at the language before her mouth opened wide and she looked back to Volacius. This text was similar to the Sith dialect she studied before coming to Korriban however it seemed that it had tons of variation. The girl could only figure that this had to be an even older version of the Sith language but that’s when another detail started to cause her to raise an eyebrow. One of the characters on the terminal had a similarity to a Rakatan character in the old language; the language of the Elders. Motioning over to Volacius she would show the eager in her wave to him so he would rush over. Once he did she would start speaking the best she could to him. “This my language!! No all it but this luter here. That old Kata language! Proof Daritha real!” She would show him the letter and then a similar letter on the inscription of one of her brands. She would then wait for him to make his reaction as she wanted to show that she was right. Tag: darthkain7, cliojayne, volacius |
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Post by Darth Xxys on Feb 8, 2019 9:18:53 GMT -5
Shuttle craft...crashing! Xxys I.C. The damage had been too great. First it had forced the shuttle out of hyperspace. Now the ship was shuttering violently. The engines sputtered and belched more smoke and fuel. They were about to enter the atmosphere of a hopefully habitable moon when the co-pilot jettisons a distress beacon. The Dark Lord Pares had been engaged in a conversation with a holo-message but that was cut short and he had stormed back to the cockpit and shouted at the co-pilot. “I never authorized you to launch such,! Pilot!!!” Once again the Force surged through the Dark Lord and the eyes of the co-pilot widened as the impetuous, and indeed seemingly suicidal Lord, seized his throat with an invisible grasp. Madness. This fool would kill them all! Before I can move to restrain the madman another jolt to the ship broke the enraged Lords hold on the hapless pilots neck. Now there was no time for Pares to further attack the man as the ship had hit the atmosphere and flames now rolled over the skin of the damaged vessel forcing him to retreat and secure himself. As a pilot Xxys could tell the ship was coming in way too fast, and at far too steep an angle. He could see out the side windows and the few mountains in the distance had snow capped peaks. The descent levels just slightly as the pilots fight to coax any control from the crippled ship. "EVERYONE Tips of trees flash past the windows. The sounds of branched slamming into the hull mixing with the tumult of alarms and screeching of metal.... BRAAACE!!" A roar of sound and the ship shakes until it seems it must shatter...then, with a sudden lurch, the ship halts, silence... Darkness. The cabin was filled with a light haze from the burning circuitry. Branches invaded the cockpit...and the body of the young lieutenant co-pilot. He was impaled to the seat; his face locked in the final expression of terror. Hitting the releases on the safety harness Xxys took stock of his person. He was still not nearly recovered from his last, adventure, and this crash had been,...jarring, to say the least. Muscles ached and though nothing was broken he sported a new crop of bruises where the harnesses had held him to the seat. The air coming through the cabin was cool; slowly clearing the haze and smell of brunt plastic and blood from the cabin. The shuttle would never fly again, but for now it would provide some cover, and maybe the coms could still get a message out. The distress beacon had been launched, however the Empire would not be the only ones listening. Distress beacons were like dinner bells to pirates and marauders. I knew this because I had answered that bell a few times myself over the years. Rising from my seat I turn to see who had survived the crash. The original pilot was groggily moving from his seat and it seemed the troopers had come through relatively well enough. The Omwati woman was still in her seat next to the dead lieutenant and I can see daylight through the smashed window. She seems to have survived and she extricated herself from the shattered cockpit. Turning back into the cabin I can see an emergency hatch was open and a trooper as well as the pilot, moving to egress. There is one notable absence...the Lord Pares. Donning my cloak I stuff a few extra stimpaks and bacta patches into my inner pockets and make my way outside the vessle. @kai Erlae darthkain7dragonsith13 |
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Post by darthbernael on Feb 9, 2019 9:07:27 GMT -5
Bernael shook his head. He knew when someone or something has interfered with his mind. The explosive demonstration provided by the Lorekeeper had been just that. That acolyte, still standing, still terrified, obviously looked like he had been saved from a terrible fate while another stammeringly ushered another Sith into the chamber. Perturbed still that his mind had been subjected to an unwarranted vision, he turned to see a young, female human entering through the door. The Lorekeeper, grinning his foul smile, pleased that another had joined them, allowed her entry. Bernael could sense the power and essence of this new arrival. If he were not wrapped up in attempting to decipher whatever trap the Lorekeeper was leading them in to he would have spared more time to study his new companion, but he was certain that he would have the opportunity to learn of her, just as of Darth Abaddon, as they continued. Yet still, there was something about her, something that kept even a small part of his mind on her. Turning his attention back to the table and back to the powerful, glowing object on the table he listened while the Lorekeeper described it. “The Golden Globe,” the Lorekeeper said, “Exar Kun was a powerful Sith, but not very imaginative. He should have…” A pause, searching his thoughts, or arguing with himself more likely, and the foul smelling Sith continued. “He used it to trap hundreds of Massassi children, siphoning their power over time. We, I, yes, I wish to access it but cannot do so without your assistance.” Shuffling toward the object the Lorekeeper motioned all three of them closer. Moving in that direction Bernael heard him say, “We will all have to place hands upon sphere, our combined strength should make the barrier preventing access fall.” He could feel the impatience of the one who needed their assistance, the wonder and searching of both Darth Abaddon and the new companion as they too tried to determine whether they were just pawns or truly necessary to what the Lorekeeper needed done. Tag: darthkain7, claiomhsolais, |
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Post by claiomhsolais on Feb 10, 2019 19:47:19 GMT -5
As Claiomh walked down the stone hallway, her boots and the boots of the nervous acolyte accompanying her, echoed around them in ringlets of sound. She did not walk with her usual stride of confidence. Instead, she proceeded cautiously. Claiomh’s hands rested not all that casually upon the pommels of her sabers. As she and her guide approached the massive, heavy doors to their destination she tipped the pommels slightly back to increase their withdrawal and ignition speed. She was ready. The acolyte opened the massive doors and both stepped inside. As the nervous acolyte made her introduction she looked around the room. Books, holocrons, talismans, and many more items were housed on shelves and strewn about. “Please, do come in,” said the old arcanist through rotted teeth. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked deeper into the room. The only sound was her guide hastily retreating from the room. She also felt the eyes of three other Sith upon her. As the old arcanist spoke of the Golden Globe, how it was made, and of its creator, Exar Kun she slowly began moving around the room. One of the Sith she could sense had recently survived a crash. The other two were extremely powerful in the force. Then one of them suddenly caught her attention. He was an Anzati, and elder. She paused for a moment in her stride. Claiomh knew very little about Anzatis, but what she did know made her wonder why he wasn’t attacking everyone in the room. Slowly she began her approach again, cautiously. She kept her eyes adverted on random objects around the room. She didn’t want him to notice she was watching him. There was something about his energy she found curious. While all of her attention should have been on the Golden Globe, she couldn’t help but wonder why he was among them. Why wasn’t he living the life Anzatis live. What made him different. The voice of the Lorekeeper broke her thoughts as he waved all three closer to the artifact. He spoke of how Massassi children were used as its power source. She focused on the information he shared, and allowed her thoughts to stray only a little to the deadly stranger standing feet away from her. She applied a slight amount of pressure upon her sabers as she glanced into the golden swirls of the globe. Tags: darthkain7, Darth Cruor, darthbernaelOther Tags: darthferos |
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