The Old Sith Trials

IC: Darth Illium
Location: Brigadier, en route to the Quelii sector, dropping from hyperspace

Her answer was spoken from the depths of Illium’s lonely, bitter heart. Dathomir. Her home, perhaps not by birth… but by right. The Witches had brought her from the slavers, and forged the Miraluka child to love it, to honor it and grasp its fount of power. They promised her the clan… only to have exiled her when she was touched by the void.

"A sagacious choice," the Emperor replied, the serpentine hiss uttered and mused upon the answer, "Dathomir. Logical…”

To her shock, her utterance of the name Dathomir appeared to please the Emperor Dreadwar, more so than her willingness to kill her vermin pet if given the command.

Her heart yearned with each poisoned beat for Dathomir… to walk again in sacred grasses, connected to the ichor of the spirit realm, fully within her element. Illium wondered constantly that she wasn't forged of the right elements to make a proper Sith, but a powerful Nightsister… power was far easier to immerse herself within upon the surface of her home. The desire bloomed, a dark flower within her heart, yet not one of sweet smelling perfume that shriveled when plucked. The desire felt like black petaled flowers that reeked of death, corpse putrefaction, disease; that which drew forth flies, maggots, rot worms, and others connoisseurs of carrion to spread forth its malicious pollen. That’s what bloomed within Illium’s wounded heart.

And it just so happened to coincide with the Emperor’s desire. Funny how the Force worked on such ways...how the magicks urged her to move forth on one direction and she obeyed it’s call, only to find herself sharing a mutual desire with the Emperor of the Sith.

“I shall grant you your wish, Illium of Dathomir," he said as his pitch black aura began to pace about the small room, gauntlets clasped behind his tattered cloak. The way he moved in that moment seemed almost human-like-- Illium wondered if the Emperor had ever been humanoid in form… or had he simply always been a wraith, swathed in darkness?

"Of course, to rule Dathomir is no matter of simple politic in this day and age," Dreadwar said. "For Dathomir is not ruled by some amazonian primitive sitting upon a straw cushion in a sun-baked mud hut in the wilderness, but the Queen Mother of Hapes upon her distant throne, across rivers of whispering stars, in the Fountain Palace of Amelia Chume'Dan. If you are to rule Dathomir, you must rule Hapes, and know its history, and understand how Dathomir came to be the sixty-fourth world of the Hapes Consortium."

Hapes. She knew the world form legend, and she knew of the males with such beautiful aura that visited. Before departing Dathomir she had very much desired to
claim one of the vibrant males as a slave and mate, and conceive beautiful daughters. She knew that there was connection between the two worlds, but she was unaware of the full extent-- the Emperor, however, gladly disclosed to her a complete detailed history, and she listened with rapt attention. Thinking of the nights she’d spent gazing at the blazing balls of energy in the night sky… far more of them were visible to the Miraluka than to the limited vision of humans; she would often wonder where Hapes was. And Korriban. And Malachor V, a planet she’d never heard spoken in Nightsister tales-- yet mysteriously she knew its name, a message burned into her mind.

She listened to the history of her sacred home and its political entanglements hungrily, as it was not something taught readily within the clans. There was simply the ruling Mothers and the Elders-- nothing more. Illium herself didn’t know where her adopted people came from any more than she knew what world she had been born on, nor what had become of her Miraluka parents. She’d never even met another Miraluka.

She felt a subtle shift in the Force… the shuffle of the pathways of destinies opening and changing. Of a destiny within grasp… her own destiny.

The Emperor leaned forward, chills again crawling across her skin. "That is where you come in, Illium of Dathomir," he whispered in his hissing manner. "You are of the Singing Mountain Clan, even if part of the exiled Nightsisters. You are not so far in blood from the Hapan throne as you are in distance." The room plunged into arctic chill, and her gizka gave a shudder and whine of protest. "More precisely, you are fifty-five murders away from the throne. Yes, my child, to rule as you desire, your clan must die at your hand. If you were prepared to kill that pet for no purpose, consider now that for a greater purpose you must kill your sisters, and in a shower of blood you shall be baptised Queen Mother of Hapes and Witch-Queen of Dathomir."

Her fingers clenched around the base of her gizkas neck; she almost squeezed, envisioning one of her own sisters caught within her fingers, crushed in a telekinetic grip, unable to sing spells with a crushed windpipe. She envisioned her own Mother, hewn open by the point of her sword, her corpse desiccated as Illium consumed every bit of magic that flowed within her, using the gifts that Darth Nihilus had forced upon her.

Could she do it fifty-five times?

She’d killed many beasts, for food or sport, and killed when she needed to defend herself, yet she was helpless in the art of dueling. But to kill with reason and purpose…

She must. Her Emperor had a will and she would do all in her power to meet that desire. So simple and so ingenious was his plan, and yet so much hinged upon Illium not failing now, as she’d failed others at critical moments. The curse of being an anxious and overthinking Miraluka, she supposed. A Miraluka that didn’t overthink was dead. But she couldn’t let that curse fail her now; she couldn’t risk failure under the empty gaze of the Emperor Dreadwar.

Fifty-five murders he would have, then. No matter what stood in her path.

“Fear not, such would not be excessively out-of-the-ordinary," Dreadwar continued in his hissing sibilance. "Hapan dynastic politics frequently features nobles advancing through assassination; indeed, T'aa Chume, it is said, assassinated her own firstborn son. While fifty-five murders may be rather more killings than usual, the majority taking place on remote, primitive Dathomir will mean they will not be noticed, or cared about, until it is too late. When Amelia Chume, at last, dies by your hand, you shall thus become first-in-line to the throne, and the Hapan nobility shall have little choice but to accept you as their new Queen Mother. Witches of Dathomir may have ruled Hapes for the past century, but with your ascension, a sister of the night spells shall reign for the first time. You shall win the allegiance of the nobles by gifting them ensorcelled artifacts of the ancient Sith, and by teaching them spells and rites even those not sensitive to the Force may employ. The dark magicks of the Sith and Nightsisters shall percolate throughout Hapes under your rule, and just like Onderon of old under the Naddists, or the Tetans under the Krath, so shall the people of Hapes be seduced by your royal cult. And when the time is right, Aurelia Chume…”

The sound of her birth name, her witch name, the name given to her… it was always meant for royalty. She was meant to take the dragging remnants of the Singing Mountain clan from her adopted mother, and hold the decaying order of witches together another generation. Her name meant “The Golden One” in Dathomir.

Then… the darkness called to her.

That long-discarded name brought a yearning to her heart. A yearning for a crown, a throne, a planet of the witches bent to her will… and the planets of the radiant beings of vast technological
powers also bent to her whim. Aurelia Chume’dan…

Illium could feel an invisible smile, even if the Emperor possessed no facial features
she could detect, but his empty form was indeed capable of emotion. "And that, my child, is the true and ultimate goal of this mission... and why I have chosen you to lead it."

The gauntleted fist uncurled, revealing-- although it seemed impossible with the way his aura had moved-- a crown. One so infused with the Force she could see it vibrantly, as if she had eyes. Emperor Dreadwar extended the silvered skullcap out towards her for the taking, the symbol of future power within her grasp.


Her hands trembled as she reached for the crown. It was a beautiful yet delicate thing. A shimmering silver, with emerald gems studded throughout. She would need to wear a silken blindfold to spare her future kingdom the sight of her scarred eye sockets when she wore it upon her head. She took it gingerly from him.

“It is your will my Emperor-- so it shall be done. Fifty-five slaughtered in pursuit of the throne, ending with Amelia Chume’dan,” Illium answered bravely, not an easy feat for a voice as wavering and near innocent as hers. “I accept this mission. When I am
worthy, when I have slain all you command me to slay, then I shall wear this crown.” She traces her fingers lovingly over its delicate surface, a vision of her glorious future at the forefront of her mind...

Footsteps approaching her chamber tear her mind from the glory of the possible future.

Tag:Darth Dreadwar,darthvoxyn,corinthia,Chunran,dwomutsiqsa,

IC: Voidwalker
Location: Viscretus’ Shuttle

“So, Sith Acolyte right? You and the rest of your classmates are apparently the ones paying me right? If so, I would like to discuss a few things with you such as payment. Now if you are interested, then I have many different packages we can discuss but I have a feeling that I know the ones you are looking for.”

The Mercenary certainly seems full of herself. Look at her, looking so relaxed. She doesn’t care about them Empire, all she and her kind care about are credits. Mercenaries truly are scum!

“Certainly”, Voidwalker offered a friendly smile that would come off as more friendly than intended. “You and your comrades deserved to be paid for your services. And you’re correct, my classmates and fellow acolytes will be paying you. These packages you spoke of, I’m interested in hearing all the details of them, but we’re on a bit of a time frame. You decide what the best option is for this mission and a fair price. Come seek me out and we’ll negotiate and go from there. It’s not a big shop so I won’t be hard to find. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Before another word could be spoken, Voidwalker was already on his was towards the bunk room. Soon as he turned away from the Mercenary, the friendly smile quickly faded away back into his usual stern look as he retreated to his thoughts.

Well I at least bought some time to figure out how to best deal with these hired guns. Hired guns that we have to pay for nonetheless. We are Sith we don’t need these mercenaries.

As he walked into the bunk room and quickly looking around the room, someone was clearly present and fast asleep. Looking to see which of the acolytes was asleep in the top bunk, Voidwalker recognized the sleeping apprentice as Nannley. Deciding it best to not wake her, and just let her rest. It was clear that everyone would need their rest and be at full strength for this mission. Who knew what dangers awaited them when they reached their destination?

Quietly making his way across the room to the refresher and closing the door behind him. Stripping down to only his pants and boots, Voidwalker ran cold water in the sink to clean his wound that he had received from Qatsssk. Briefly shuddering at the sensation of the cold water touching the wound was enough to bring a silent curse. “It’s clean enough.” Splashing water on his face to wash away the sweat and grime of the day and Korriban sand. Looking at his reflection in the mirror as the water fell from his face, his crimson eyes staring back him in the dark room. Splashing more water on his face, a thought suddenly occurred to him.

If I negotiate the Mercenary for a lower price, I can make money off this. Extra credits that I make is more credits that could be useful for the Empire. Even if it’s a small amount, it can still be of help somehow. I’ll tell the others a higher price and I’ll keep the difference, and I won’t have to pay a single credit. This will be good for everyone. Well, everyone but the mercenaries. But they’re still making money and they get to leave with their lives. Seems like a win-win to me. Now I just wait.

Gathering up his stripped clothing, Voidwalker exited the refresher and made his way to the bunks to claim a bed. Deciding on the lower bunk beneath Nannley, Voidwalker sat on the edge of the bed. Sliding himself back to place his back to the wall with his legs crossed, he’d place a lightsaber on the bed in front of him and close his eyes to meditate. Soon his conscience would slip away as he focused. Although how long he had he didn’t know. It simply depended on how quickly the Mercenary woman took to come find him.

TAG: Darth Dreadwar Volshe @lordjania darthvoxyn

Name/Title: Darth Hesper

Age: Appears to be approximately in her late 20s

Sex: F

Species: Human

Homeworld: Naboo

Occupation: Sith

Height/Weight: 5'1" / 112 lbs.

Appearance: Hesper is a petite human female with a slim face and startlingly grey eyes. She has exceedingly long pale blonde hair, which she usually wears with the top layers pulled back. Her complexion is fair and her cheeks, chest, shoulders, and arms are generously dusted with freckles. Her expressions usually read as being pensively lonely or as grim scowls. She wears minimal cosmetics, save for the occasional dark eyeshadow or deep red lip (though never simultaneously), and keeps her nails short. Hesper favors simple clothes in only black; she has an affinity for well-tailored trousers and flowing blouses or tunics, and has a favorite long coat with long, draping sleeves. Hesper ascribes to the "modest is hottest" view of fashion-- for Hesper to show more skin other than ankles and wrists is rare, though she has been known to.

Weapons: One slim, long-handled lightsaber with a classic red blade; E-11 blaster rifle.

She keeps, but does not use, her deceased husband’s blue-bladed Jedi saber.

Equipment/Flagship: None.

Languages/Alphabets: Galactic Basic, High Galactic, Sith, Mando'a, Cheuhn, Naboo, Ryl, Galactic Sign Language

Description of Abilities: Hesper is a capable user of telekinetic Force powers; she has the potential to mold objects and landscapes and influence natural phenomena. She is an extremely athletic hand-to-hand lightsaber combatant and intermediate markswoman. Her favored lightsaber combat forms are Ataru and Niman. Hesper is a dedicated scholar and talented chronicler.

Strengths: Creative, intelligent, and adaptable. Hesper is hyper-aware of spatial relations and is wildly inventive in manipulating her physical surroundings. A quick and skilled lightsaber combatant. She is an accomplished scholar and has excellent historical, philosophical, and tactical knowledge. Knows much about art and culture across the galaxy. Very discerning and endlessly patient. As a sculptor, she has an excellent eye for art.

Weaknesses: Distant and emotionally sensitive. Hesper lacks keen Force empathy—mind tricks, probes, and control are not in her wheelhouse. Despite her reclusive and standoffish nature, she is quick to establish deep (and exploitable) loyalty and affection towards the few she deems worthy, and can be vulnerable to feelings of familial and romantic love, as well as compassion.

Personality: A woman of few words, Hesper is somber and grim; she keeps a relatively even temper, though this never detracts from her pervasive intensity and the sense that there is always a glimmer of mania just below her surface. She is a master at masking her true emotions, and relies on her reclusiveness to act as an extra layer of emotional defense. She is pensive, thoughtful, articulate, and clever, with a sprinkle or sarcasm.

Biography: Hesper was born in Theed, Naboo, between 123 and 128 ABY as Théa Cifra. The gloomy and anger-prone daughter of an architect father and royal seamstress mother, Hesper lived a relatively middle-class life within the walls of the Palace; her early childhood was as calm as it possibly could have been as the Sith-Imperial war raged for the first few years of her life. Staunch supporters of the Federation and vehemently anti-Force, her parents eschewed anything having to do with Krayt's One Sith and the New Jedi Order, but remained as uninvolved as they possibly could.

After her father's death following a terminal illness in 134 ABY, Hesper's mother moved she and her younger brother to Dee'ja Peak, where they lived simply in the outskirts of town on a very small family-owned estate. Quiet, stormy young Hesper truly loved the Gallo Mountains and spent hours alone on the nearby trails, and it was where she uncovered her latent Force abilities—though she never spoke of being able to move and reshape the earth to anyone, as she was always told by her mother that the Force was not for people of their ilk. When she was not exploring the trails, she read voraciously.

When Hesper finished her schooling at a small local university at the age of 18, she left Naboo for Coruscant with the dream of becoming a sculptor; she took with her one bag of her belongings, and a recommendation from a family friend and Naboo parliament member for commission work for members of the Senate. She left behind her mother and brother at Dee'ja Peak, and that was the last time she saw or heard from them.

After her arrival on Coruscant, she began work as a sculptor—she lived alone in a modest mid-level apartment, where she collected books, datacrons, antique knickknacks, and where she sculpted. At first, she sculpted only for the lesser-known senators and military officials. A breakthrough finally came a handful of years after her arrival on Coruscant in the form of a grand bronzium statue to be installed in the library of the Jedi Temple. After its completion and during its installation in the Temple, Hesper was confronted by a young Jedi Knight who warned her of her strength in the Force, telling her— with a jovial wink and a laugh—that she could easily have been mistaken for another Jedi.

Hesper was taken aback by this, immediately disbelieving the Jedi. She did believe she possessed he Force—but to that extent seemed unreasonable to her. Carrying on, Hesper ignored the encounter for several months. But as time marched on, she thought on it more and more frequently. What if the Jedi Knight was right? What if she really was that powerful? It made her think back on her childhood and every enraged outburst she’d ever had, too. What if she was predisposed to the Dark Side of the Force? The Dark Side that Krayt’s Sith used, and that her parents hated so much...

Hesper delved deep into researching the Force on her own. She extensively studied the teachings of the Jedi with the hope that her proclivity to the Dark Side wasn’t true, but, finding that Jedi teachings did not suit her views in the slightest, turned to studying what little she could find about the ways of the Sith—and it was like slipping on a tailor-made glove. Never before had Hesper read anything that resonated so soundly with her soul. Now resolute to find the path to the Dark Side, Hesper locked away her dark ambition and began first with attempts to gather basic mastery of the Force.

She was unsure of where to begin, and so she turned back to the Jedi—she committed herself to locating the Jedi who had first confronted her about her presence in the Force. But what Hesper did not plan for was how he would sweep her off her feet.

Naren Lasena, the Jedi Knight Hesper had met a year prior, was all she ever could have wanted and more. Handsome, intelligent, gentle, and philosophical, Naren was perfection in Hesper’s eyes. At first, they became fast friends, and Naren remained unaware of Hesper’s tendencies toward the Dark; he attributed her aura in the Force to his overwhelming feelings for the beautiful and pensive young woman. The two fell faster in love than they had become friends, and Hesper's pure adoration for Naren caused a great conflict within her—were she to continue on her path to the Dark Side, what would become of the man she loved?

Yet even still, over the short years they were together, Hesper gleaned all she could from Naren. Force techniques, saber combat forms, lightsaber construction, and meditation among the most prominent things. She devoured all she learned from him, and still lusted for more.

Hesper loved Naren more than anything, and two years after she had found Naren again, they wed in secret. They lived a life full of art, philosophy, literature, and love, and for three years, they were happy. Even despite the secret nature of their relationship and the long stretches of time Naren spent away from Coruscant, Hesper could not have asked for a more perfect marriage. When Naren was not away on Jedi business, they travelled together, read together, dreamt together, came to know every intimate inch of each other... and soon, Hesper was with child—and had almost entirely forgotten her secret ambition of joining the Sith. An expecting mother, she began to consider abandoning her private quest for the Sith in order to better protect the secrets that were her husband and child from those who would seek to tear their family apart: The Jedi Order—who, according to Naren, strictly forbade marriage—and the politicians and media that so closely watched Hesper's career.

But it was not destined to last.

Much to her heartbreak and horror, Hesper lost the child at five months in a tragic and bloody airspeeder accident that left her physically broken and her unborn child dead. The grief drove Hesper to the edge—in hysterics and unwilling to cope, Hesper locked herself away for months following “the accident”, while the media pounded at her door to cover the story of the acclaimed young artist Théa Cifra and the mysterious pregnancy she had seemingly so viciously ended. Branded the “deranged mystery mother” and “infant butcher” on the HoloNet, Hesper turned to her art as a means to cope, creating disturbing, macabre sculptures as her career took an epic nosedive. During the time she spent in self-isolation, she repeatedly begged her husband to return home from the mission that had kept him away since before the child had been lost—Hesper pleaded for him to come home and help her cope, but each time, Naren refused.

Hesper then realized that her husband, whom she loved dearly, would always place the Jedi Order before her. She hadn't seen it before, as she'd been lovestruck, but after the realization dawned on her, she came back to her original desire to join the Sith. A new desire for power blossomed in her.

Nine months after their unborn child’s violent demise, Naren finally returned home from his mission; briefly hopeful they could return to life as it was, Naren made every effort to repair the damage he had done by not returning when Hesper had begged him to. But Hesper would have none of it, for she had become resolute to pursue becoming a Sith, and with her career all but decimated, there was no forgiveness in her. She attacked training herself with a ferocity she had never possessed before.

Then, one day, Hesper made a decision to get back at her flake of a husband: she would reveal her and Naren’s marriage to the Jedi Council... the marriage they had so meticulously kept secret over the years.

This backfired tremendously, for Hesper then discovered that the relationship Naren had insisted be kept so hush-hush was not unsanctioned by the Jedi, and there had been no need for secrecy. Naren had insisted the marriage be kept secret simply so Hesper would not interfere with his ability to perform his Jedi duties. Astonished and furious at Naren, Hesper demanded the Jedi Order reprimand such deceit. The Council obliged by temporarily suspending Naren from the Order, much to Hesper’s relief.

Naren was devastated. But Hesper, too, was devastated. How could the man she loved so dearly keep her secret in such a way, and for so long? All those years! Wasted! Every kiss, every moment they spent together had been an absolute lie. Naren didn’t want to spend forever with her. He only wanted to serve a corrupt and vile order. Hesper had been right strung along. Rage and the painful desire for retribution burned in Hesper’s chest.

With her trust shattered and her connection to the Dark Side of the Force growing ever stronger by the day, Hesper took it upon herself to kill Naren several nights later in their apartment. She divulged to him her plan to pursue the Dark Side, and admitted to him that she had been learning from him all along before revealing the lightsaber she had built in secret using the knowledge he had unknowingly imparted to her. Breaking down into hysterics, Hesper drove her lightsaber into Naren's chest, killing him. The next day, Hesper gathered only a few things she owned into a crate, took her husband's lightsaber, and fled from Coruscant. For the following year, Hesper chewed on what she had done and what had happened on Coruscant as she traveled the known galaxy. She did not meet many people, and kept herself under the radar until she arrived at Korriban, ready to find a Sith master and begin her quest for higher power. With the promise of a powerful master—the Emperor Dreadwar himself—Hesper now embarks on her journey to at last meet her master and begin her formal training…


Level 1 – 8 points

Force Push/Pull – 1
Force Jump – 1
Force Avalanche – 1
Force Lightning – 1
Force Defense – 1
Ataru – 1
Niman – 1
Force Drain – 1

IC: Tacite Occultus/Crystal
Dread Fortress, Oricon

Srethros had just reprimanded Tacite for being jumpy, though it wasn't his fault he didn't trust the Gand, or the Hapan. He felt there was an eventual trap that those two were going to try and catch him in. These spirits as they had just been revealed to him weren't helping.

Then the Gand began droning on again. "Doesn't this man ever shut up?" The crystal seemed to chime in within Tacite's mind, getting him even more aggravated. "You know how to silence him. And it will be quite satisfying as well. Feed on him. End him."

Tacite takes a deep breath in and exhales trying to calm himself before he upsets Srethros again for losing control. "Enough, I must stay in control of my senses." He silently replied to the crystal as he continued on with the group.

TAG: Darth Voidwalker darthvoxyn Darth Catalyst

IC: Darth Feros
A World of Hurt
Corbos


Feros couldn't actually believe his luck. He made it to the sword and somehow wasn't dead. Perhaps he'd live long enough to see his dreams realized after all.

His fingers brushed the hilt, and he wrapped his hand around it. What happened next was not anything like what Feros thought his first brush with the Light Side would be like. In fact, it was probably the polar opposite.

In a word, pain. That was all he could feel. All his most painful memories dredged from deep within his subconscious to replay like some depraved, broken holo stuck on a loop. He saw his mother's tears as Mirdoris, under the guise of Talenim Val'Vera, loaded him onto his ship and lifted away. He saw his father's stoic demeanor falter. He even saw himself standing there. No, not himself. His brother. He'd forgotten he even had a brother. He felt the pain of leaving them all behind.

He felt Vayanna laying in his lap, cut nearly in two by his lightsaber. The throbbing pain along his right cheek from her beskad. How she couldn't even speak as she lay there, struggling for a breath that wouldn't come to curse him with. He could feel his heart break all over again. Shattering into pieces too small to be put back together.

He felt the pain of being totally alone after he had killed Mirdoris. The emptiness, the longing for companionship that didn't exist. The hope that maybe the Force Ghosts Mirdoris said haunted this place would come and speak to him. The crushing defeat every night when they never did.

He felt the betrayal in Maladi's fingertips as she "taught" him her "lessons." The new and unfamiliar types of pain she held in her instruments and in her mind. She sadistic way she would laugh as he cringed and groaned. He never screamed. But he made plenty of other noises no human throat should. And she had always laughed. Feros suspected something had broken in her when Krayt had died. He told her so once. And he felt the pain from that moment too. He had looked like an old man for weeks from the after effects of the Force Lightning she had unleashed.

Every painful memory he had, flashing through his head in what seemed like both eternity, and only a moment. It was dizzying, cloying to the mind. Feros had lost himself in a crucial moment. And the pain was all still there. But he had become aware of something else moving in the space that actually was reality. He looked up to see a monstrous tail coming down towards him.

Feros did the only thing he could think to do. He pulled hard on the sword, trying to jerk it from the stone, and hold it above his head, in between himself and the tail of the beast at the bottom of the mines.

Darth Catalyst darthkain7 trentongordon

IC: Robyn Shaire
Location: Hangar 4, Korriban

It ended far too quickly, Robyn meant to pull back... but when another classmate decided to add his own storm of lightning in, the two bullies collapsed in charred, smoky heaps. Her fingertips were just as smoky by the end of it, stinging something fierce... but Robyn was beyond noticing at that moment. Just a few- no... just yesterday, her classmate Chakran was murdered. Today, she was the undeniable killer. Robyn brought her aching hands close to her chest, slowly breathing in and out while the rest of her class got a good look at the bodies.

The fear in here was so strong she could practically feel it pressing against her skin. Maybe now the other Acolytes would think twice before deciding to antagonize her again... Robyn almost laughed, bitterly, thinking that it 'only' took two murders to win a little respect. At least she didn't go around hurting students at random, though. She... defended the newbies, she just, didn't want to take it that far-

The door opening broke through her thoughts, and some adult Robyn didn't recognize poked his head inside. Well... it looked like she was caught.

Or not, considering how the man's eyes swept across the room like anyone was suspect. Robyn kept her hands hidden, just in case. ...and noted just how awful that sounded. Master Marcus seemed to be a no-show, not that Robyn particularly minded, but it looked like there were much bigger things to worry about than a fight in the classroom... or a killing. A giant mission into hostile territory - like the Valley of Dark Lords wasn't hostile enough - hoping that this entire crew of Acolytes was worth a single master? Wonderful, Robyn loved the idea of throwing her own life away to be canon fodder!

She knew better than to say as much, so Robyn contained her disgust in an eyeroll... At least this time she remembered to arm herself before leaving the dorm that morning, but if she had an hour before flinging herself into the jaws of certain death she'd take every minute to prepare. Hangar four, he'd directed... to Yavin.

Robyn's sustained eyeroll quickly devolved into staring straight ahead when a familiar face strolled into the dungeons. Lady Viscretus walked past the man at the door, and even stepped over the burned bodies as though they were simply roots in a forest path. Robyn stood at attention with her hands behind her back, half-hoping to not inspire her wrath for some other reason... thankfully, it looked like she escaped her notice entirely.

...there was Yavin, and evidently another mission that had a touch more urgency that she was picking Acolytes for. Robyn felt a touch of concern seeing the Cathar girl get selected - she literally arrived that day, didn't she? - but kept the thought to herself. 'Nannely' sounded more than ready and willing to participate. Robyn could only hope she'd be seeing the feline alive afterward, especially after literally killing for her sake. The little strike team was led away, leaving the rest of the class to either stare at the still-smouldering corpses, or prepare for this new dive into Hell.

"..." The ache in Robyn's hands nipped at her attention, and she wasted no time rushing out of the classroom. It was suffocating in there. She bolted out and put as much distance between herself and the dungeons as possible, and took several deep breaths before even thinking of returning to her quarters. Surely she should bring her talismans along... but in a crowd of thirty, every single eye would be on them. The vultures... that Slizard and Yog tried to mug her minutes after she first got them! Then again... they saw her lightning. They knew what she could, and for all they knew would do, to any other thief with bright ideas.

All the way back, Robyn kept that thought in mind. Even entering in her door code was painful, so before she did anything else upon entering, she looked for bandages. "That talisman of healing would be helpful for sure right around now," she softly muttered to herself as she wrapped her hands. Her next order of business was the blocks of nullifying resin that kept her loot relatively safe... Robyn broke the gold shielding amulet free, and slipped it under her tunic, while keeping the rest nullified for now. She would wrap the rest of her loot around spare clothes, cloak and gear, then into her satchel they went. She was not going to be caught blind and made a fool of again.

"Kriff! What time is it now?" Robyn looked at her chrono, before swinging the satchel around her shoulder and hurrying from the room. It didn't take her long to reach the right Hangar, and halfway there she had to wonder if the rest of her class even took this 'desperate mission' seriously. Wouldn't that be something, she reaches the Hanger 4 as ordered only to see it empty besides workers and droids. She continued on her way with that darkly amusing train of thought, reaching the entrance just before running out of breath.

TAG: Darth Dreadwar , anyone NOT in Hangar 2

IC: Voxyn

Dread Fortress, Oricon

Arancia had started with an explanation of the likely identities of the spirits surrounding them but it quickly devolved into a philosophical lecture about death and the fear of. Continuing down the halls of the fortress the lecture went on and on, mentions of sith lords like Vitiate, Exar Kun, and Sidious and their different ways of attempting to overcome death echoed through the halls as they walked. Arancia gestured to a spiral staircase leading up further into the fortress and continued to speak.

“Arancia fears that once we advance closer to our goal, they will become far more interested in us.” This in particular caught Voxyn’s attention. Arancia had just said the spirits were of no concern to them and that they had no influence beyond a voice so why would he be worried that they would become more interested in them.

“What happens when they become more interested in us my Lord?” Voxyn asked curiously and heard Srethros ask a similar question at the same time.

Tag: Darth Catalyst  Darth Voidwalker  taciteoccultus  

IC: Alisha Tano/ Xal'den Desani
Location: Triumphant Medbay

It took a whole battering of tests to ensure Alisha was healthy again after that... thing invaded her system, and she had no complaints while awaiting the results. All it took was a tiny cut on her arm, she was not about to risk anybody else's safety. Rather, she would have, but somebody refused to listen! Xal'den wouldn't leave her side... He at least managed to kick Nox outside and shut the door.

Within that little room, Alisha conceded to his company and allowed a few minutes to just, pretend. Pretend that crisis upon crisis hadn't been piling up around her head, and that she hadn't stared down death at least three times in as many hours. They both knew that things ought to be addressed properly, but within the Medical bay... it just wasn't the right time. Still, Alisha was smiling and giggling for what seemed like the first time in ages.

"I'm sure they'd love you," Alisha was saying, "If we get off this ship alive and in two unperforated pieces, I'd be happy to introduce you. Honestly, they fell in love with Shira within the first few hours of my visit."

Xal leaned against her bed with a snicker, and gestured with a hand, "Promise they won't eat me alive on sight?"

"You're much too scrawny to eat," Alisha giggled again, daring to show her fangs, "I should know." The responding wide-eyed expression broke the fearsome character quickly, and she sank back into the bed with a sigh. "...Shili's a gorgeous world. I really wish I could see it again."

"Hey, who says you won't?" Xal replied without missing a beat, "You'd need to if I'm going to be introduced and- ..!" He paused mid-sentence for a moment, only to hastily continue with, "And, I need to show you Wroona too, right? Your home can't hog all the beauty!"

Alisha was just about to start teasing about how Wroona couldn't hope to compare, when the door slid open and she pulled back with haste. In that moment, the fragile fantasy bubble popped and it was back to work. Though, to her surprise it wasn't a doctor returning but Commodore Frazan. Back to work indeed... they never should have 'left'. Alisha hastily sat up in the bed, giving the man her silent attention.

“Lady Tano,” he called, “I am here to bring you to the hangar. The Empress requested it personally.”

"The, Empress requested me?" Alisha repeated, glancing back at Xal'den with a flash of guilt, "I was unaware, I requested a physical earlier and was waiting the results." She started to rise out of the bed when the one face she desperately did not want to see at the moment showed and asserted himself. She didn't need to look to see Xal's jaw tighten, and it took an effort from her not to shout right there.

“Heh, look Sir I know you’re only following orders, and that what we’re doing as well. The Commander doesn’t go anywhere without the two of us with her," Nox went on, apparently fancying himself an authority in the situation. An authority that expected to have complete access to her.To Alisha's amazement, he wasn't done yet. "The young man there, that’s her lover. So good luck on splitting them up. Especially after what happened to Commander Tano."

Alisha almost caught herself blushing at the sheer nonchalance. She wasn't exactly keeping her relationship a sworn secret, but did it really need that kind of coverage? Focusing on that one petty grievance was all she could do to keep herself relatively calm. "As for myself," Nox continued, barreling over any attempt to interrupt, "Well after the Commander was attacked by that mad man, I’m Lady Tano’s newly appointed bodyguard. So then I suppose we’ll all be going to the hanger.”

Alisha was sitting on the bed by this point with her shoulders slumped.

//I can not believe the nerve of this gu--!// Xal'den's telepathic shout was quickly drowned out before Alisha could form a response. Her eyes went wide and she grasped at her forehead for a long moment as the very same influence that attacked entered her mind again. As though her head wasn't aching enough from the first time her mental walls had been torn apart.

"..." She desperately wished she could have ignored his 'message'. No, actually... after being made utterly helpless to his whims more than once, Alisha lifted her head to glare Nox directly in the eyes. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to kill him! She wanted to leap from the bed, seize him by the throat and splatter his brains against the pristine floor of this Medbay! She shut everything and everyone else out, just her and her rising urge to kill.

"Orders?" Alisha paused in her glaring, and let out a laugh. It was light, almost genuine, but eerie enough to send a chill down the spine of anyone listening. "Now you give a kark about my orders? You seemed perfectly fine going on your own idea of authority earlier when you ripped classified information from my head." She stood up from the bed, still smiling. Even Xal felt the need to take a tiny step back.

"You want my orders, 'sir bodyguard'?" she asked, taking a step forward, "Very well. Eject yourself from the nearest airlock, you lying little sack of shavit! I don't give a single solitary kark about what you so badly need to personally tell the Empress. Especially not when you felt it prudent to invade my karking mind! And you have the gall to demand I give you a personal audience with her? And pretend to be a bodyguard? You should be down on your knees thanking me for not ordering your head on a pike right now," she snarled. With that, she stormed through the door, shoving her way past Nox, but not before turning to give a 'proper' order.

"You won't be coming within ten parsecs of me ever again, or the Empress."

TAG: Darth Dreadwar , Shira , Volshe ,

IC: Vitani

Location: the Brigadier

“Hey, you watch your tongue you cheeky little witch.” The stowaway barked at her having apparently overheard her joke about the other sith, though why that bothered the stowaway she wasn’t sure, she didn’t seem like the kind of person to defend someone she didn’t know from some teasing… maybe she thought the joke was about her Vitani wondered as she just looked at the stowaway with a raised left eyebrow.

“This cheeky little witch isn’t one you want to get on the bad side of, dear.” She said with a chuckle. Shortly after that the Captain began demanding that the stowaway lick his boots clean only to be interrupted by Chûnrân. “There are slaves on Tatooine who wouldn't lick your boots for 10,000 credits and their freedom.” Vitani struggled not to laugh at this, the Captain with his over inflated sense of self importance wouldn’t like that remark but before any response could be made a klaxon began blaring through the hanger.

"Proximity alarm, 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."

Resisting the urge to laugh as Chûnrân made yet another retort at Caracalla, Vitani followed the captain out of the hanger. The tension between the two was definitely entertaining for her and she couldn’t wait to see how long it took to boil over. She may not take part in her fellow sith’s infighting and power struggles but she always found them entertaining to observe. As they continued down the halls of the Star Destroyer Vitani began to feel something very unsettling in the force, something she couldn’t identify and it only got stronger as they continued until they finally reached Illiums quarters. Entering Vitani instantly realized what it was she was feeling and dropped to one knee. Before her was the Emperor.

Tag: Darth Dreadwar  aureliaillium  corinthia dwomutsiqsa Chunran