The Old Sith Trials

A combination of the warning shouted from above and instinct, both physical and metaphysical, saved Volcryn from instant death. He had managed to get ahead of himself once again, literally stepping straight into another trap. Yet another time he had found himself three steps behind the long gone corpse that had built this place. This time his neck had nearly been torn open by an age-old Sithspawn barreling into him, sending him tumbling at least a few meters across the floor. Dazed slightly by the attack, he kept rolling to absorb the impact. His lightsaber ended up a good few meters away from him, but that wasn’t the end of his armament. His wires were still flowing about and none of his knives had been lost.
Finally he stopped, sprawled out on his stomach. His hands and feet slammed into the floor, raising his body up on his hands and feet. For a single moment the Sith and the Spawn stood transfixed in the exact same position, both seeing each other for the animals they truly were. In the end, they were both beasts of the night, both of the Dark Side. And yet only one of them would gain victory; the one who would venture further into the Void. One of these Sith hounds had a freedom the other one lacked, one was chained and another was not. And the unchained would manacle the chained, just as he would one day cast off even the shackles binding him to the earth.
And so he sprung into action, one arm flailing upwards like the wings he would one day have. A shove of the Force propelled a black knife from his sleeve, sending it flying towards the Tuk’ata. As the knife flew, so did Volcryn, leaping off of the floor over his prey; because that was what this was. This was no adversary of his. The hunt was his and so this was his prey. The planet pulled him back almost instantaneously. Braking his fall with another push of the Force, the hunter landed on all fours just as his knife clattered to the floor. Lord Havok had already landed himself, having flung himself through the trapdoor. Volcryn didn’t wait for him. Leaping to the right, he landed on his feet as the Sith creature turned around to face him, now standing between Volcryn and Havok, the saberstaff now behind him. Stretching out through the ethereal energy field, the wraith pulled his knife back into his palm. He pushed again, once again sending the knife like a missile towards the Sithspawn’s eyes. And then he pulled, so hard that the lightsaber flew from Havok’s side, spinning like a ruby disc towards the prey. Then he sprung forward again, pulling his body into a sprint towards the Sith hound. And just before they crashed together Volcryn leapt to the side, the strings that would ensnare this creature in lethal chains gliding through the air. With all of these flowing freely, he could ensnare and rend apart. He could pierce into eyes and mouth, carve legs and arms. But that wasn’t all. Finally a burst of lightning to close the four-pronged trap around his game, his slit ruby eyes glinting with excitement.

TAG: Darth Dreadwar,

IC: Jekkyl/ Hyde
Location: Sith Temple, Korriban

In the library another being approached, Hyde was about to let out another bolt of lightning before noticing this one was different than the others. She withdrew and let Jekyll meet them first. The Dathomirian greeted him threateningly, and asked him who he was. In a stutter; "Ma- Ma- Manfred Jekyll." The Dathomirian continues questioning threateningly, but Jekyll is too terrified to answer. Finally Hyde takes back over. "Speak your piece and be on your way." The Dathomirian obviously taken aback for a moment before masking it, once again questions who they think they are. "Ivana, Ivana Hyde of course." Before questioning even further the Dathomirian seems to consider something before revealing the baton and telling them they've been summoned before leaving abruptly.

Hyde laughs at the irony, the Emperor required her help after withholding information that could have helped her. If it weren't for the fact she didn't want to suffer a very painful death she would have refused. However the case she answered the summons.

As the Dathomirian addressed the group he was supposed to be leading, her among them, she looked over her fellow teammates. As a warrior she knew it was wise to have someone watch her back, however she also knew not to trust completely and make sure the ones who are supposed to watch her back don't turn on her. First there was the Dathomirian of course, he seemed like a warrior himself, that could prove either a problem with hotheadness between the two of them or it could prove to be a gift to have someone else on a same thought process in battle. A T’landa Til, she didn't have much knowledge of what they were capable of though it looked like a Hutt with legs, she would be less trusting of it before she learned more. A Twi'lek they could be agile and get into places quite easily looking like servants or slaves. And then the last one it took a moment to figure out what it was before she realized of course it was a shape shifter, further examination showed it was a Neti, this was going to be difficult, shapeshifters are hard to trust, you never know what side they are really on.

“You four, or five, know why we're here,” Zul'tar spoke. Hyde slightly smirked at the joke before hiding it again. “There is a Sith agent who has gone rogue, stealing valuable information from your Emperor and hiding in the tombs of the dead like the coward be is. We must find him and eliminate him. The information he stole is not required of us to find, only that we make sure his death is not in any way linked back to the Temple. That is why I have chosen you all to accompany me. We're newcomers, outsiders. We have few, if any, ties here. This is for the Emperor, and we must not disappoint. Am I understood?” Not saying a word she nodded.

TAGS: claiomhsolais,darthkain7,Mitthfisto,darthbernael

IC: Reaper
Location: Cavern in

As Corvar and Reaper discussed how to get the their interruption did not go unnoticed by Reaper. He was calmed, soothed by the sword. He was disliking it. Yet he also enjoyed it. The clarity that came with it was different from the clarity that came with battle. He didn't remember the last time he had felt this, perhaps never.

Soon his clarity was destroyed by the ground rumbling and flames coming forth from the split that he had planned to jump. A sound he'd normally enjoy also appeared. The only thing was it wasn't one but many and they all felt like they were right next to him screaming. It felt like they were stabbing his eardrums so he quickly covered his ears turning off his saber for the time being and waited. As the flames dissipated he removed his hands from his ears hoping to simply brave the screams as he would a simple battle wound.

As he removed his hands he looked froward and saw a beast so beautifully terrifying he fell to his knees in awe. He wanted this creature to be his. He would make this creature his. This creature already was his in his mind. He stood and grinned taking in its form. Blisters covered its back but they felt different. Like they were force filled. Like little nexus' on its back. Its violet eyes so beautiful as they gazed at the trio of force users. Its teeth sharp and menacing and it looked big enough to swallow them whole. Its tentacles looked perfect for strangling or throwing rocks even. He truly viewed this creature as a sight to behold and thanked whatever god or being had created this creature.

As Corvar spoke it knocked Reaper out of his sort of trance he was in admiring this beast he got his game face back and grinned. Distraction would be easy. They were back in the gladiator pits. "Go for the sword if you can grab it maybe stab the beast and it'll sooth it like it did to us." He yelled over the screaming that continued. He then picked up a few rocks with the force and tossed them at the face of the beast. "Over here you beautiful bastard look at me!" He yelled running away from the pair to try and draw its attention away. He shot force lightning at the beast perhaps the eyes if he could make it that far but whatever he could reach hoping it'd work or even hit the beast. He didn't want to kill it just weaken it.

Tag: darthkain7, Darth Catalyst, darthferos

IC Trinaya

Location- Sinister Sith Temple



Dragged through the stacks by the inexplicable and seemingly unstoppable force that was Trill, Trin did her best to keep her senses stretched to their limit. The potentially overly anxious Zabrak didn’t want to give anything hidden by the force or other mundane means a chance to catch the two women off guard. For a moment there was something… not malicious exactly- more familiar than anything. Long pale fingers reaching out towards the shelf to drag slowly across the spines in front of her, knowing that one was calling to her, desperate to be picked up, Trin finally processed what Trill was saying to her.

“History, Trill. The basic term is history. It should be on that shelf over there.” Her hand waved vaguely. The shelf that she was being drawn to was for science. Wondering what possible familiarity or connection she would have with any kind of science book, Trin’s fingers continued to trail steadily across the books. As she did this she had a brief thought- what if this was some kind of trap? Surely Darth Malos would have noticed something overtly malicious and told her about it? Or maybe he wouldn’t have. With him you really couldn’t know for sure. Unable to stop herself, Trin took a slow step to the next section of shelving, hand still disturbing the dust in a thin wavering line. She really should stop and try to figure out what was going on before- She froze. Here it was, the book that had been calling to her. It was smaller than the other books… almost small enough to be considered pocket sized. It didn’t appear to be a science book, if anything it looked to be some kind of journal. It seemed to be very old and potentially water damaged. Why did it seem to have a force signature that was calling her name? That was incredibly suspicious. Pulling it out and blowing the dust off gently, Trin opened the front cover and saw a title page of sorts. “My Tyme as Goddesse” was written in graceful handwriting across the top of the page. Once upon a time it may have had an author’s name written underneath, but now it was just a dark and splotchy smear. Hoping that the rest wasn’t too damaged, Trin moved to turn another page. Before she could Trin heard Trill finding a book she wanted, and not wanting to share her discovery yet for some reason, Trin shoved the small journal into her shirt to keep it safe and close. She and Trill made their way back to the mad and maddening Darth Malos.



She considered his query carefully. On the one hand, the smaller building looked incredibly creepy as well as unsafe. With only one of them able to go in at a time it would be the entrance to the temple itself all over again. However- she unknowingly mirrored Malos’ thoughts here- while the cafeteria might be a more likely place to find Kento, it might also be used as a place to set up a potential trap. Trin wasn’t sure, but she felt that Darth Malos was truly looking for input in this situation. “Well…” she started slowly, “it might be best to eliminate the smaller building first so as to not miss anything by getting caught up with things in the big building.”



Having the locket taken from her had increased her desire to save Kento, but it had also made her much more wary of their surroundings. She waited to see what her companions would say.



darthkain7 , volacius , @lordjania

Tagset: Sinister Sith

IC: Trill
Location: Library inside Sinister Sith Temple; Korriban

As Trill pulled the girl along, she had moved her mind into a panic mode as she was trying to close the gaps in her knowledge about what was happening and why. How did her cryo pod malfunction in the first place when it was state of the art technology? And why after all these years was she just waking up when she had set a timer on the pod to go off and auto wake her from the deep sleep? So many questions and she couldn’t fathom how all of it led her to waking up in whatever era this was with these strange slaves who were dressed like force hounds but were calling themselves Sith. They were nothing like the Sith she knew were real and unless something drastic has happened in the time passed since she crashed on Korriban, these ones before her were nothing but slaves that felt a little rebellious and decided to declare themselves free during the middle of their mission. If their master was truly a Rakata, Trill would have no choice but to turn them in for punishment for disrespecting her authority over them as a force hound when they were most likely either lower ranked hounds or simply a new version of force hounds that were meant to take in amateurs.

When Trin finally managed to pull her arm away from Trill, the girl would look back at her quickly as if it was an act of defiance but that before she heard the Zabrak begin to speak up for herself. Hearing her explain that the word she was looking for was History and not Kastory, Trill would nod her thanks before stepping past Trin and heading over to the history section. Starting with the shelf closest to her, she would notice the word Pre-History on a plaque over the shelf and knowing that pre- meant ‘Before’ in Old Galactic Basic, Trill figured that she would start there with her search. Scanning the titles of almost every book over the span of a few minutes, not really caring to put them back on the shelf when she was done skimming them, she finally pulled a thick book from the third shelf from the top and would look at the cover which had a Rakata on it.

Grabbing the book and immediately opening it, she would skim only a few pages as she saw text in the language that Malos and Trin called Basic. Trill began to grow frustrated that she couldn’t read it all and though she had enough anger to use the force and pull every book from the shelf and leave them in a huge pile, she knew it would be better she don’t show exactly how strong she was to the group. Save for Trin, Trill still partly expected to be betrayed eventually by the group and she wouldn’t let them get the upper hand on her if she could help it. No matter how much time has passed, the humanoid was still way more than confident that she could take on the group and win without using her full power or the restricted powers her Master once taught her but forbade her from using.

Seeing as the others were walking back to Malos, Trill would decide that she was doing the same and began to make her way over to the others. Joining up with the group while keeping the book clasped in her off hand so that her sword wielding hand was still more than ready for anything, Trill would look between the others as they responded to the man before wondering what the full meaning of everything he said. Stepping forward and touching him on the shoulder to ge this attention she would shrug her shoulders before finally speaking. “What you say? What you want?” She would ask simply before looking at his face to see if she could read his initial thoughts and emotions to make sure whatever he said next wasn’t an insult towards her.

Tag: darthkain7, cliojayne, volacius

IC: Renn
Location: Gates of the Sith Temple

Standing by the gates of the Sith Temple, Renn thought back to how he met the Dathomirian leading this expedition. Renn had been walking through the Temple, often having to duck as he went through the entryways to different chambers. As he moved, he was suddenly stopped by a smaller being running into him. When he looked down he saw a Dathomirian, whose Force energy swirled around him n eddies of tension and need. Leaning down, “You need someone, don’t you?” Renn asked.

As the Dathomirian looked at him in shock, Renn pointed down to the rod in the strangers hands, “I will assist, as anyone who carries one of those is out for an adventure and I’m tired of the stuffiness of the Temple.” The Dathomirian told him when and where to join the party he was forming, before moving off, the tension streaming in his Force energy whipping around even ore after meeting Renn.

****

Shortly after, Renn was standing on the steps of the Temple, among a group of other beings. He waited while the Dathomirian gathered his thoughts before speaking to them. Renn had come in his usual guise, tall, looking like a brownish humanoid, with green/yellow eyes. He decided to study the others while he waited.

There was a large beast like being, a T’landa Til, if he was correct. It was one of the few beings who could normally meet him in stature. He had very little experience which those beings so this expedition would allow him to gain more knowledge of their kind, and this one in particular. The dark side energy flowing around this being had an unusual flavor to it, interesting eddies as it moved around and through the creature.

The next was a short, female, Lethan Twi’lek. He’d seen her around the Temple training grounds, often getting into scuffles due to the implied nature of beings such as her. He could feel the energy around her, as well. This tasted more of fierceness, pride, as well as something he could not put his finger on yet, but was sure he would discover as time passed.

The last was a male human, looking nothing so much as a Jedi. That in itself was unusual for this place. They appeared strong, formed much like a warrior, but had something about them that suggested they did not prefer violence, as was the Jedi way. Studying deeper, he sensed something, but could not exactly explain what. This being too was one to learn more about.

Being one of very few of his kind, Renn was naturally suspicious of most things he had been called into and therefore knew that, in this case, and given these beings, he would have to be even more suspicious. He had not survived so long by just trusting any being he came across. He, likewise, knew that he was not part of the formal Sith hierarchy and suspected the others were not either, so this had to be a mission where all of them would be considered expendable.

As he continued musing, he heard the Dathomirian begin speaking. “You four, or five, know why we're here,” Zul'tar spoke. “There is a Sith agent who has gone rogue, stealing valuable information from your Emperor and hiding in the tombs of the dead like the coward be is. We must find him and eliminate him. The information he stole is not required of us to find, only that we make sure his death is not in any way linked back to the Temple. That is why I have chosen you all to accompany me. We're newcomers, outsiders. We have few, if any, ties here. This is for the Emperor, and we must not disappoint. Am I understood?”

At the opening lines from Zul’tar, Renn felt the energy around one of the four start swirling in deepening and lightening shades. ‘Interesting’ he thought, but kept it to himself as it was better to gain information rather than let others know you know something. Instead he looked to Zul’tar, and like the human, merely nodded in agreement.

TAGS: Mitthfisto, taciteoccultus, claiomhsolais, darthkain7

IC Darth Arancia
Dread Fortress, Oricon


The echoes of the ancient spirits continued to reverberate within the Fortress walls as the group ventured further into the cavernous halls. Arancia almost chuckled to himself as he caught the exchange between Srethros and Tacite. It seemed the young Anzat was out of his league when it came to beings he couldn’t physically harm. Srethros loudly dismissed the spirits as just that, seemingly for the benefit of both apprentices. It came as a surprise, then, when Srethros quickened his pace so that he could speak with Arancia privately. “Do you have any idea what these spirits want or why they choose to remain here?” he asked in a low voice, so as not to be overheard by their followers. “It seems pointless to cling to some form of life. The dead should remain just that, dead.”



Arancia, lacking the anatomical requirements to raise an eyebrow at Srethros, instead turned his attention back to the apprentices. “Master Srethros is correct. The dead that cling to our realm are simply spirits who feel their business unfinished. They lack any influence beyond a voice. Any retention to their former identity through the Force would be something of a miracle. Most likely they are what remains of the soldiers of the Dread War, still fighting an eternal battle against a foe long passed. Many Sith and Jedi together were present in the fight against the Dread Masters. Those that lost their lives during the battle likely were killed by the Masters themselves in a surge of Force power, the only thing strong enough to bridge the gap between life and death. Most of the spirits here are likely those of the Sith unwilling to relinquish their bonds to this world. Indeed it is the Sith way to free oneself from the fear of death, yet in doing so inherently cut themselves from a driving force of their power.” Arancia was on a full philosophical rant now, his position as a teacher being betrayed by his downright excitement at sharing his knowledge. “It is said that fear is the beginning of knowing the power of the Dark Side. Fear of death is by far the most primal and potent fears of all sentient and non-sentient species. All Sith work to overcome death in their own way, from conquering the bodies of others like Vitiate, to preserving their bodies and minds via alchemy such as Darth Scabrous, to releasing their astral form and leaving their bodies to decay such as Exar Kun, to having a batch of clones to transfer their essence into in the manner of Darth Sidious. These most powerful lords very nearly overcame the bonds of mortality and yet all fell short. Indeed when the fear of death is no longer at play, such Lords become arrogant and extend their power too far, inevitably resulting in their own demise. It is through fear we advance and through fear we retain our power.”



The Gand took a long breath, the actuators in his mask filling his lungs with gaseous ammonia. He was used to giving long-winded lessons in cavernous classrooms to crowds of eager minds. Field research was not his forte, and he longed to return to the comfort of his lecture hall once this was all over with. He returned his focus to the group. “In any case, these restless spirits should be of no concern to us. We are stars in the void upon their tiresome existence.” Arancia pointed to a large spiral stairwell, leading high into the canopies of the Fortress. “Arancia fears that once we advance closer to our goal, they will become far more interested in us.”

TAG: taciteoccultus,darthvoxyn,Darth Voidwalker,

IC Brooke 
Abandoned mines, Corbos 

As the creature clambered up the chasm walls, Brooke fell to the floor curled into a ball. It seemed the psionic screeching was having more of a toll on her than anyone else. Corvar’s words of encouragement had fallen on deaf and covered ears. She screamed into the abyss, her wails echoing along the cavern walls and intermingling with the latent cries that the Leviathan was emitting. The cacophony rang violently in the ears of Corvar and Reaper. The latter’s thrown stones seemed to have little effect, bouncing off the thick violet hide of the creature. A flash of lightning leapt from Reaper’s fingertips and towards the multiple eyes of the beast. The bolts struck true and the Leviathan reared its head back in pain and anger, unleashing another gout of flame into the cavern ceiling. It lunged its head downward, bearing down on Reaper with fury. The tentacles surrounding its maw shot forward and attempted to ensnare Reaper’s arms. A massive clawed forelimb swept downward at Corvar, threatening to send him, Brooke and a section of the cavern floor plummeting into the pit below.



Feros, being completely ignored by the creature, was able to gingerly make his way to the platform that the sword was embedded in. Pebbles beneath his feet tumbled and dropped into the darkness below, their echoes being obscured by the battle in front of him. As his hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword, Feros would feel an immense burning pain wrack his body. It was as if his very soul was on fire. A vision flashed before his eyes. A vision of his former Master, the man who had taught Feros to first wield the Force, dying by Feros’s own hand. A vision of each acolyte he killed in his quest for knowledge and power. Replays of Maladi’s “lessons” designed to increase his strength, little more than veiled torture techniques. He relived all of these memories at once, all of the stress and pain tearing away at his psyche. With all of that affecting him, it would be difficult for Feros to notice the armored tail that was swinging down to crush him beneath its girth.

TAG: darthkain7, trentongordon, darthferos,

The Sith Master listened to the words of his companions, for he was genuinely interested in their takes on this. He, personally, wanted to take the road that would not get himself killed. However, both roads that lied ahead proved equally dangerous. While one was a smaller building, less likely to hold a significant threat, they would be forced to enter one by one through a window on the side of the structure, making even the tiniest threat on the inside a force to be reckoned with. The other was a much larger building, able to hold far more threats, but at least they could all enter together, ready to face those threats in unison. They were truly between a rock and a hard place here.

Trinaya seemed as wary as Malos was, but far more decisive than him, believing that perhaps they should sweep the smaller Smithy first as to not miss anything while searching the larger Mess Hall. Volacius, instead of circumspect, seemed far more curious, his interest focusing in on the Smithy.
Of course it would be, Malos thought.
The Mirialan had made an interesting suggestion in clearing the rubble away from the entrance to the Smithy, but that would take far too much time, and night was already falling. Malos had an instinctive feeling that they should not be outside when darkness fell. Maybe it was the primitive fear of the dark, or perhaps the Force was doing its best in warning him. The dark side was strong here, but alien, not wanting to aid Malos and his fellows, instead helping someone, or something, else. The darkness here would not be a boon, but an obstacle, Malos felt.
Trill seemed entirely zoned out, even asking Malos what he was talking about after the fact.

Clasping his hands together and taking a deep breath, Malos gathered himself before replying with a condescending finger pointing first at the ruined Smithy, and then at the Mess Hall, saying, “We go there… or there,” as he did.
He then turned towards the Smithy, realizing that his senses were incredibly dulled as he tried to detect anything inside it. Even as a user of the dark side, it aided him naught, clouding his vision in the Force.
The same occurred when trying to feel out the Mess Hall, which could have been entirely empty or filled with angry marauders according to his senses. Shaking his head, he turned towards the others.

“I honestly can't tell which is more dangerous,” Malos spoke. “But I think little Trinaya here is right. We can cover the blacksmith's shop way faster than that cafeteria. And you know what? I've got a better idea than climbing through a window.”
Grinning, Malos detached the lightsaber from his belt, igniting the plasma blade and nearing the still-standing wall. Without even peeking inside the window, Darth Malos plunged his blade into the wall, starting directly in front of him and beginning to create a man-sized opening for the party to enter through.
It was a mistake that Malos would most assuredly regret.

Not even three seconds after beginning to create this new door to the Smithy, the wall Malos was cutting through exploded, sending rubble and debris flying in all directions. Malos would take the worst of it, the sheer force sending him soaring backward, and a stray piece of stone knocking him unconscious.
The trio would then notice a horrific sight, one that they would have likely only ever seen in books, and would have only been told of in fairy tales. Standing a little over three meters tall, with spines protruding from its back and tusks attached to the corners of its mouth, was a monster. It wielded massive claws that could slice a man into five equal pieces with one swipe, and razor-sharp teeth that seemed intent on tearing flesh.

It was a Terentatek. And it was staring at three appetizing meals.





"Go for the sword if you can grab it. Maybe stab the beast and it'll sooth it, like it did to us,” Reaper spoke before beginning his distraction, throwing both loose rocks and volatile lightning at the beast as he ran, taunting it.

“What?” Corvar murmured, shaking his head before his vision turned an odd shade of gray.
The leviathan would indeed be enraged by Reaper's attacks, but that would not stop it from taking a swipe at Brooke and Corvar, the former of which was in no shape to fight. Corvar saw the massive arm of the beast swinging downward, and he watched helplessly as it smacked into him and Brooke.
The details were blurry as to what exactly happened in that split second, but it would appear that the lessons of the Aing-Tii had not gone unlearned by Corvar as his fighting sight had given him the moment he needed to act, preventing the vision to come to reality.
His vision returned to normal, and the creature's roar of annoyance at Reaper's lightning was Corvar's cue. Spinning towards Brooke, Corvar sent a Force Push towards her to move her out of harm's way; nothing so strong as to send her flying across the cavern, but hopefully enough to move her to safety outside of the fighting, as the beast's psychic attacks were taking a heavy toll on the frightened Miraluka.
Not checking to see how far she went, Corvar spun once again and dove to the side, hoping to roll out of the path of the creature's strike and end up in a better position to strike at the blisters on the beast's back.

TAGS: Darth Catalyst , trentongordon , darthferos

IC: Reaper
Location: Cavern on Corbos

The Leviathan reared its beautiful and terrifying head and its maw and tentacles began to bear down on Reaper. He smiled and chuckled even. His hed was pounding and he could feel the sweat trickle down from his armpits and forehead. He was enjoying the fight. Not to the point he was unaware of his surroundings but enough that he was getting an adrenaline rush. The rush sent all pain out of his body as if it was a distant memory. He prepared his saber for the onslaught of the tentacles surrounding the beasts maw as they neared.

As they neared him he shot threads of warning shots of lightning towards them hoping to stave them off. If that didn't work he planned to wield his saber with one hand and attempt to cut through them keeping his arms free to do his next step. Target the hopefully open mouth and shoot into it hoping its insides were perhaps wet so as to conduct the electricity better. Even if not he figured the inside would be more susceptible to pain than the hide of this great beast. He stayed away from Corvar and Brooke and kept trying to keep its attention on himself. Even if he were a darksider he was one with some sort of honor code. Though a loose one.

Tag: darthkain7, Darth Catalyst, darthferos

IC- Chunran
Location- The Pellaeon-class Star Destroyer Brigadier, en route to the Dathomir system, hyperspace- exiting the hangar

To Chûnrân, Captain Caracalla was the perfect example of how not to lead your men. He commanded with fear and malice, and the men had no real respect for the man; it was what lead Chûnrân to make up for his rash decision to force push the trooper into tripping. As their conversation dwindled and began to lose precedence or meaning, he made sure to remind the leader that the men were looking up to him and that Chûnrân would keep them safe. He knew that if his men didn't trust him, they couldn't be expected to fight for him. Having commanded them all to do a weapons check and then inspect each others work, he spoke quietly to the leader, firstly to ask his name-- he intended to know the names of all his men-- before making sure he would offer support to the men and ensuring they were taken care of prior to landing. With this underway Chûnrân couldn’t help but to notice that whatever the situation was back with his fellow companions it remains for now unresolved, perhaps he should intervene. Nodding to the squad leading he made his intentions clear and began the short walk back to the captain, as he neared the original source of disruption, tension was so high he could feel it… no, he could taste it in the air. Their captain had certainly taken a pure dislike to the stowaway something about her seemed to make the captain hell bent on making her suffer and Chûnrân wanted to know why. He could understand it to an extent, but something bothered him by it; it almost seemed personal, like she had wronged him previously.

Finally back within earshot if the group it became a little clearer as to why the was so much tension preparing to boil over. It would appear that the spit the stowaway aimed at Caracalla had landed on the feverishly clean and polished boots of the man. "Get on your knees," the Black Captain ground out, extending his foot forward. "Lick it off. Lick it off my boot."

It was demeaning and highly unnecessary it seemed the captain was out to really humiliate their stowaway. Chunran would not be prepared for what came next, a voice spoke out and to his astonishment it was his own.

“There are slaves on Tatooine who wouldn't lick your boots for 10,000 credits and their freedom,” Chûnrân retorted in defence of the stowaway. He had heard the stories of the captain and his anger and figured if he was going to fly off the handle, it's better it be against someone who had the capacity to defend themselves without the hindrance of cuffs. But before the captain could turn his attention to Chûnrân or come up with a retort of his own, a klaxon pierced the air, loud and demanding.

“I wish we had a proximity alarm for your arrival,” Chûnrân muttered of the captain under his breath as the sound continued to assault his ears, wishing it would just end.

"Proximity alarm," the captain explained, gesturing with two fingers for the Sith acolytes, who were predictably already beginning to bicker amongst themselves, to form up. "We'll be arriving at Dathomir shortly," he said. "I cannot answer your question in any detail, Dwomutsiqsa, for even I do not know. All I know is that we are to report to Darth Illium, who for gods' knows what reason the Emperor has charged with leadership of this particular mission, before sublight reversal. Come."

Before the captain could move to lead the group to illiums quarters, Chûnrân had one final retort for the Captain who dominated his men with fear. “Perhaps it’s because you don't know that Illium was given leadership over you.” Chûnrân wasnt shouting but he wasn’t whispering either, he knew the captain could hear him; as would the rest of the acolytes, the stowaway, and the Sith troopers. An eternity passed, or so it seemed, as the soulless masked eyes of the Black Captain seemed to bore into him into his very soul. Then the captain turned and Chûnrân felt immediately at ease-- he was sure had he tried he could perfect aerokinesis in that moment and soar around the ship weightless, but it wasn’t to last. Chûnrân and he assumed the other acolytes could feel once again the malice coming from the captain, though at this point Chûnrân was beginning to suspect it wasn’t all directed at their surprise guest... but at least he wasn’t being stared down anymore, if he was even being stared at in he first place.

"Saved by the bell," Caracalla said. "Literally." He looked up at the two guards. "Guards, escort her to the brig. If she causes you any trouble, kill her."

Chûnrân looked at the captain’s back in alarm-- surely the captain should be sending the stowaway to the med bay first, it was common sense and courtesy! It was unknown why the woman had snuck onboard, or how, but it would be pretty terrible for morale if she were a ticking time bomb of disease. Now a choice had to be made; follow the captain, show respect, and be on time for the meeting with Illium... or risk being late and do what was right by his men and the ship. And despite not wanting to admit it, the fiery stowaway that had caught his attention and she had impressed him with her defiance. The troopers and the stowaway would be half way up the hallway when Chûnrân would notice the proximity warning had stopped. He would be late to the Illium meeting anyway, he decided, and rushing down the hallway he used the booming loud voice of command he had practised for hours alone in his dorm at the Academy.

“HALT, troopers! Change of plans,” Chûnrân would offer, quickly glancing between the two guards before gesturing to the guard on the right. “You there, you will head straight to the Chow Hall and grab a ration of bread, cheese, and water for the stowaway, while you--” he indicates the other guard-- “Will take our friend here to the med bay, first. All of this is to come out of my imperial service funds.” He raises himself up to his full height as he speaks, trying to instil as much authority into his words as he could. “You will then take her to the brig as ordered... and tell no one of your detour.”

Chûnrân then leans down and whispers to the stowaway: “You looked a little hungry and worn out. I figured you could use a break. Besides, everyone needs a check up after dealing with the Captain. “ Letting a smile slide into his features as he spoke (the stowaway wouldn’t see this, of course), but perhaps she would hear it in his voice, Chûnrân said, “But if you screw this up, or try anything funny, I will personally eject you into space before they execute me.” Dropping the smile, the gravitas of his voice would not even come close to that of the Dark Lords and Ladies of the Empire, but Chûnrân knew it would be enough to get the point across. Without waiting to see if the troopers would follow orders, he marched off back the way he came towards Illium’s quarters to report. Part of him feels like the stowaway called out to his retreating back, but if she did, Chûnrân was too caught up in how late he would be to notice.

The hollow slap of his boots in the hallways echoed obnoxiously as Chûnrân made his dash for Illium’s quarters. Illium, he knew, would harbour no resentment if he was late. They weren’t the best of friends, but they were well acquainted. A few years his senior in the Academy, the Lady had taught him how to see with force sight, and in exchange Chûnrân had helped instruct her in Makashi. However, he knew he couldn’t-- and shouldn’t-- push his luck. The Lady Illium was the utmost professional, and this was her mission. She couldn’t afford to show favouritism. As he blurred past two stormtroopers ducking into a maintenance room, he spared only a moment’s thought for why they weren’t marshalling in the hanger with their comrades.

As he slid around a corner into a corridor five hallways away from Illium’s chambers he came to a sudden dead stop, and fought with his mind and body to not heave up the breakfast he had had this morning. The feeling of utter dread and loss was back, and it was one hundred times worse than before. Though his Force connection wasn’t completely cut off this time, it felt weak and difficult to grasp, like trying to move one’s hand through honey. Yet still he pushed on, taking a step at a time, fighting for every inch he made.

Finally with shaking steps and Raggedy breath he had made one full hallway, needing to duck into a bathroom and release the contents of his stomach only once. That, however, seemed to do the trick. Focusing his mind on the feeling of his empty stomach and the pain and distaste of the bile remaining in his throat, Chûnrân fought his way through the remaining four corridors in time to watch Dwomutsiqsa enter, or perhaps re-enter, Illium’s chambers. Making his way down the final 500 metres, Chûnrân deliberated whether to tell his comrades of this overwhelming dread and sickness. He decided to wait till Caracalla was gone; he didn’t want a superior officer thinking he was weak or incapable. Bracing himself for an earful, Chûnrân entered Illium’s quarters... and suddenly it all made sense.

All through his years in the Academy, he had heard stories from the Masters and returning students of the power and awe-inspiring presence that was Emperor Dreadwar-- no words, however, could truly prepare one to bask in this legendary nexus of Dark Side power not for the effect the God-like Emperor had on a person’s mind and body. However, Chûnrân was lucky enough to remember a conversation he had had with an acolyte who was assigned to the libraries for life after the Emperor removed his left leg and right forearm with but a thought before plunging a cortosis dagger into the acolytes eye, rendering him blind, and then removing the bottom of his jaw-- all because he had failed to respond properly to being in this mighty presence.

Dropping to one knee, then the other, Chûnrân would slowly prostrate himself face down, unmoving and not speaking until instructed to move by his liege, the Emperor Dreadwar.

tags darthvoxyn, aureliaillium, Darth Dreadwar, corinthia, dwomutsiqsa