Volshe
Administrator 
.: Empress
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Post by Volshe on Apr 20, 2019 20:18:47 GMT -5
COMBO WITH DREADWAR
IC: Darth Viscretus, Erastus, and Darth ApollyonViscretus’ Shuttle, En Route to DantooineViscretus turned and looked up, noticing both reactions behind her. Apollyon was far less subtle, and in fact her pealing laughter only aggravated Viscretus further. There was a certain moroseness to her demeanour that Apollyon had obviously not caught onto. She closed her eyes and exhaled, rather brusquely. Her mouth still tasted off, and she wished to rid herself of the flavour. The cup of caf floated to her, spilling slightly in her haste, and she took a swig that drained the cup. Not much better, but enough to make her face contort in a different sort of disgust. She set it on the arm of the chair beside her. Her hand then rest atop Apollyon’s seat. “I guess you stamped out his ambitions.” Erik said, and then there were two of them laughing. She frowned. Her eyes narrowed. “I broke his mind,” she said simply, directed at Erik as much as Apollyon, without so much as a twitch of her lips. To Erik - it was a threat. To Apollyon - a warning. At most, she was amused in her own torment of the acolyte, but there was no humour in the situation. There was no role in laughter for her. “Death is far too kindly for any debaucher.” Her accent rolled over the last words, a rather intense growl. It was unlikely Apollyon would notice the curl of Viscretus’ fingers into the leatheris, her knuckles shifting to the patchy whiteness of tension beneath the golden jewellery. She was far too preoccupied with the hilarity of Voidwalker’s fate - and likely the absolute madness of his actions. She glanced to Erastus, who had holstered his pistol by now, and back to Apollyon, whose eyes still glittered with hysterical tears. Erastus turned away, studiously refusing to meet Viscretus' gaze. He had not missed the seductiveness of her prior actions, nor their true and intended target; she might have been whispering sultrily in Voidwalker's ear, but her molten eyes had burned only into his. It was quite obvious, a mere three days after their first coupling, that Lady Viscretus had her eye on him - literally and metaphorically - again. Erastus was far from sure he wanted to experience such a thing again. Could the Emperor's spirit travel through hyperspace?And did he really want to be involved with such a wanton temptress? Her actions with Voidwalker, however provoked, were something out of a holofilm; an evil witch of a seductress. Whatever she had done to Voidwalker, she could do to him. Apollyon, for her part, wiped tears from her eyes, her laughter at last slowly abating. She had barely head Viscretus' answer, but she had already guessed as much. "Aaaah," she sighed. "Golden." She looked up again, taking note of Viscretus' more somber expression, and her expression straightened. "Well, maybe it wasn't that funny. I'm just very tired. Really should take that nap." “Perhaps,” Viscretus replied, rather absently. The rage was beginning to ebb as Apollyon’s laughter did, instead her vacant response was more resulting from the obvious avoidance of Erastus. She stifled a frown. A challenge, or refusal, she could not yet decide, as even he seemed unable to. She would not press it further, obvious discomfort radiating from him for whatever reason. Her focus moved back to Apollyon. “I would like to freshen up...” Her hand and side of her dress were both stained with Voidwalker’s blood, deep burgundy splotches trailing up the silken fabric. “But I would also like to hold a brief discussion, before we are left to our own devices. Perhaps in, say, 15 minutes? We could use the corridor seating and console, there, to avoid distraction.” Apollyon shrugged. "I fail to see why we need another briefing," she said. "But very well. 15 minutes sounds good." She had changed her mind mid-sentence; just being left alone for 15 minutes as Viscretus freshened up would mean she'd be able to happily nap for 15 minutes. “Excellent,” Viscretus’ tone returned to its usual warmth, though her various concerns still plagued her. She would have some time for introspection, so she saw no need to continue brooding. She pointed just down the corridor to the door at the end. “My quarters are just beyond the seats there, so you’ll know when I’m ready.” Apollyon nodded, already contemplating whether the seats in the corridor were more comfortable than the seats in the cockpit. Viscretus turned, walking off quickly and passing the Mandalorian mercenary without so much as a look. Her heels clicked against the textured durasteel for a few paces, until they disappeared behind the whooshing open and close of the doors at the end of the hall. TAG: @lordjania , darthvoxyn , Darth Voidwalker , Darth Dreadwar TAGSET: Dantooine
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Volshe
Administrator
.: Empress
Posts: 229
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Post by Volshe on Apr 20, 2019 22:46:59 GMT -5
IC: Darth ViscretusViscretus’ Shuttle, En Route to DantooineIn her quarters, Viscretus quickly locked the doors and stripped off her heels. She unclasped the neckpiece, peering into the full length mirror upon her closets to aid her in the task, then moving to the corseted back. A rather elaborate violet rug protected her feet from the chill of metal as she undressed, her gown at last fluttering to the floor. It only took her a few of her precious fifteen minutes, aided by the looking glass, near two centuries of experience, and the Force. She folded the gown into one of the boxes below, tucking it away to be cleaned later. She tugged her ivory slip over her head as well, unpinning her curls just as deftly as she had undone everything else. For a moment, she regarded herself in the mirror. Pondering. A few moments of silence and solitude gave her the chance to ensure there were no catches in her plan of pure disobedience. She would enter the atmosphere of Dantooine, using old universal code signals the Federation likely still used. If required, she would mask the presence of her entire entourage as that of a diplomat’s personnage. Beyond that, her entry would be easy. She knew the palace extremely well - it was her design - and she knew the Federation’s weaknesses to a strong degree. If she could not even gain entry to the diplomatic corridors, she would certainly be able to gain entry through a small building within the courtyard. She did not anticipate they had mapped seemingly old, decrepit maintenance hatches and such. It was not foolproof. But it would work well enough. She began searching through the wall-length armoire, looking for something fitting for a good while of their journey. Even while she did, she did not stop her contemplations. The weaknesses she foresaw were few. Mostly changes in security protocol, or efficient logging of guest access. The largest, though, would be Apollyon. She was a powerful force. Powerful in the Force. And Viscretus knew it was only a matter of time before the mind trick she had used wore off. She hadn’t wished to use permanent tactics, only buy enough time to convince her friend. So far she had not thought of how to accomplish such. A duplicate trick, more powerful a suggestion, was in the cards. Despite the effects. She needed all minds intact, no fog of obscured memory and will. It was bad enough she’d needed to poison the acolyte's mind, but she needed Apollyon at her best. Perhaps reasoning with her would be the ideal scenario… And then, there was the selfish. She did not miss the thoughts of Apollyon’s assistant, who had seemingly gained a more palpable fear of her. She had no intention to harm him, nor had she ever - though the Emperor’s “violation” had likely had lingering effect. But no doubt her crippling of Voidwalker had the greater effect on him. He would require convincing. She would not remove his choice from the situation - to do so would be entirely hypocritical - but she would spin what enticements she needed. She knew her value, she knew how to get what she desired while playing by the rules...if such was possible. She felt it was. She could not tell anyone why he had captivated her - despite his handsomeness, there was his lowly rank and eccentricities, all entirely out of character for her. But yet, here she was, not just searching for something suitable for the journey, but picking a gown that would entice the ensign. For whatever reason, she could not resist. And being a Sith - there was no reason to. She would embrace her most inane compulsions, so long as they did not threaten her status or existence. And this did not. She sighed. Her fingers ran through taffeta and silk as her mind ran through solutions, at last all three threads landing on perfection. She would relay her sins to Apollyon as they spoke, giving her the opportunity to have the upper hand and preparedness to placate her, if she should become hostile. She would solve the immediate risks through the briefing, leaving no questions as to their behaviour on Dantooine. And she would wear the dress her fingertips had just landed upon. That would certainly create clarity in her more personal issue. She plucked the long, black gown from its space in the armoire, holding it to her lithe frame and admiring her reflection. Slim, form fitting. A slit, up to the thigh. A sheer, glittering gold cape tumbling from the shoulders. It even matched the talisman upon her neck. She slid the door shut with a touch of the Force, and proceeded to the small en-suite refresher. Her rings were carefully set upon the countertop, along with her amulet and jewelry, keeping the ancient stones and metal from being tainted by the sonic or the water of the sink. She brushed her teeth, the foaming paste at last removing the traces of caf and the salty tang that still lingered from the acolyte’s assault. She grimaced again. Her temptress’ ways had never resulted in such before, her victims usually too petrified to so much as meet her gaze. The threat of Chaos was far too much for the unlucky few to handle. Vomiting had been the worst violation she had experienced. And that memory certainly triggered her distaste, but it was nothing compared to the skin crawling that Voidwalker’s lips had cultivated in her. It certainly stoked memories other, that she had long suppressed. And for a moment she considered again finding him, and killing him. It was what she wished to do in that moment decades ago - when she was entirely unable. But now, she realized, that would accomplish little. He would be gone. No suffering. No torment. Better he live with her assured sentence, than fade into nothingness and peace. And though what he had done was mild, it was more than enough for her to act as judge and jury. She washed her hands, carefully removing any traces of dried blood from her palm and beneath her nails, before stepping into the sonic - hair well out of reach. She had just styled it that morning with aid of a temple servant, and its wild nature meant it would be untameable if she washed it on board the shuttle. It was rather refreshing to have the opportunity for a second sonic that day, though the Master’s quarters in the Temple had hot water, a luxury the shuttle could not afford. She closed her eyes, surrounded by vibrations, considering still options for the subversive mission to Dantooine. The acolytes would be another difficulty. Would they be best as Force-less aides, or Imperial Knights? They could not be Sith. None of them could be Sith. But would they be able to behave in such a critical role? Or would it be best to send them off into other tasks, away from the plan? The only one she considered acceptable was Erik - the mild-mannered crewman who, while stoking her ire, was not Sith in any fashion beyond his uniform. And she had access to Core World outfits. He would not be a problem… From the others, at least one of them was certifiably insane, and another knew enough to recognize her identity. The Mandalorians would likely have the sense to not cause issue, but their leader did not seem to. The entire crew seemed a toss up. Perhaps they would be perfectly capable, but it seemed more and more they would need conditioning and thorough briefing before being allowed to so much as breathe in the presence of the Federation. She looked down, noticing red streaks. She rubbed at it, across her thigh and hip, removing the faint trace of blood that had oozed through her gown. She felt as refreshed as she would, now. Far cry from the disgusted mess she had felt entering her quarters around ten minutes prior. Stepping out, she took a second to enjoy the cool, stale air that rushed to her clean skin. She stepped into the gown, the Force aiding her in the zip and clasp upon the back. She let her hair fall around her shoulders, primping slightly, replacing the Relle Talisman upon her neck and the golden rings upon her fingers. Corusca gems and chif stone, glittering in the light as she continued to even out her hair and gown. A spray of nlorna and rominaria parfum, her favourite scent, followed. At last, she was satisfied. Her mind clear with concrete plan, her skin no longer tainted with blood, and her slim yet curvaceous figure clothed in finery, she left the refresher. Her heels were pulled on as she perched at the edge of her bed. And just for good luck, she grasped the bottle of blossomwine, tucked into shelves near her loveseat, and poured herself a glass - drinking it quickly, but not too quickly to miss the luxurious sweet, honeyed yet floral flavour. It never hurt to be slightly intoxicated. And she quite needed the relief. Quite needed. She unlocked the door, hand upon the frame, leaning as it opened. The glittering cape cascaded around her poised figure. Her voice was sultry, but loud enough to carry to the cockpit above the thrum of hyperspace. “Are we ready, then?”  TAG: darthvoxyn , Darth Voidwalker , @lordjania , Darth DreadwarTAGSET: Dantooine
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Post by cliojayne on Apr 21, 2019 14:09:38 GMT -5
Trin stood frozen for a moment. Her first instinct at the appearance of the beast had been to reach for the force. The usual welcome embrace had felt… odd. She couldn't tell if there was something reaching out towards her from the cold dark of the force here or walling her off from it. The sheer alien feel of what should have been as natural as breathing threw her off for a moment. Seeing Trill knocked to the side, flying almost like Malos had mere moments before finally galvanized her into action. In an oddly defensive gesture Trin reached out with the finally achieved force and pulled Malos back out of the way of the staring beast and stepped in between it and the mad Sith. The tired Zabrak reached next towards Trill, hoping to do the same, but the woman was already stirring- both physically and through the force. An intense pressure began to emanate from the small woman, settling right behind Trin's eyes and causing a headache. She seemed to be almost taunting the Terentatek somehow. Before she could shout “What the kriff are you doing you anachronistic lunatic?!” Volacius had stepped forward, force lightning beginning to sheathe his hands. Knowing how angry Trill was going to be once this was all over at everyone involved, Trin gritted her teeth and reached out again with the force. This time instead of a pull, she pushed, hoping to shove the time-lost woman out of the way of both the beast and Volacius’ now unleashed lightning. She found herself getting oddly more tired than she should, the force here was… strange. It felt almost foreign, as if it was not the force she knew and wielded daily. It fought her, wanting her to fail. Her book almost burned against her pale skin where it touched her, still almost pulsing with the familiar energy of what she now recognized as having originated with the locket. She glanced down towards Darth Malos, unconscious on the ground… perhaps with the book she could unlock its powers? Surely now that she knew the insidious nature of it, she would be able to resist it? The crackle of lightning brought her back to the present. Trin almost wanted to roll her eyes slightly at her companions. Why had Trill thought that she could tame a beast that had a passing similarity with a creature she didn’t even know existed anymore? At least she had acknowledged the presence of her companions more than Volacius, though. He hadn’t even made sure that everyone was out of the way of his ‘brave hero’s attack’. A saying from one of her weapons instructors floated from the back of her memory. Colonel Zo-Washay Brin had been a tall dark skinned Zabrak woman tougher than anyone else Trin had ever met, including all of the Sith she had met so far. Before Trin had switched to one on one sessions with the woman there had been a group class. During one class period one of the young noblemen had charged ahead of the rest, sure of his own victory against the foe their instructor had set for them. The Colonel had smoothly stepped forward and taken him down with hand to hand techniques and then looked to the rest of the class. “Does anyone here know what the definition of a hero is?” She smirked as the class remained silent and continued, “Someone who gets other people killed.” Trin had a feeling that both Trill and Volacius might have played this encounter differently if they had learned under the Colonel. Unsure if the lightning would just enrage the beast or not, Trin reached out with the force one more time. It felt like pushing through syrup and she found her arms trembling and outstretched- an odd feeling for her as she generally used the force with few to no gestures. Straining, the woman’s long fingers curled almost clawlike as she attempted to use avalanche on what was left of the roof and wall surrounding the creature. If she was really lucky it might crush the beast, less lucky and it might trap it long enough for them to regroup and get a more tactically sound position. But with no luck it might also crush the group. Sometimes you had to gamble, Trin hoped the odds were in their favor this time. tag: darthkain7 , @lordjania , volacius Tagset: Sinister Sith |
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Post by dragonsith13 on Apr 21, 2019 15:24:48 GMT -5
Commander Vlloth
Nihil Retreat - Perann Nebula
Officer’s Hangar, Eminence class SSD, Triumphant
The internal clock in her head was still going off, their pursuers… they had been plus the marker for quite sometime now. No sign. Normally it would have been fire, chaos, general quarters, and the fleet desperately trying to stave off destruction to execute another jump. Vlloth did her best to push the thought out of her mind and focus on what was before them. The singularity loomed in the vast distance along with the massive ring like object, the elliptical elongated shape, and several still unidentified masses that were indicative of planets or large moons. Her red eyes stared at them in the vast distance through the opening of the Officer hangar entrance, while her hands were busy in front of her clasping a partially disassembled blaster which she was checking over through touch, making sure that the mechanisms of it were working, assembling it without looking before sliding it into a thigh holster. Her familiarity of weapons instinctual and perfected over countless missions, giving little thought to it, as she merely carried out the inspection and preparation of them with no thought at all, just regimented flawless actions and motions. With the designated command shuttle, behind her, being prepared for departure. She continued to stared out the massive hangar entrance, the slight blue hue of the energy shields skewing the space beyond it, but only very slightly. In front of her a supply crate with its lid opened, from which she continued to draw a number of items for herself, securing gear and checking it before adding it to her own inventory. The Commander had taken a brief detour enroute to the hangar itself, changing out of her black uniform to don a sleek black lightly armored flight suit. A fighter pilot's helmet on top of the crate in front of her. The black visor eyes of the helmet reflecting back her own red eyes as she reached down grasping a vibroblade dagger next to it, sheathing it into her suit vertically into a built in sheath next to her breast plates, adding to normal loadout of medkits, stims, flares, and comms units that a flight suit had. The blaster at her side, two flat proximity flash grenades tucked into her suit as well. There was still the matter of the unidentified vessels, the disturbing image of the unusual crustacean like vessels retreating into the nebula’s cloud. Though that was precisely the reasoning behind this recon mission, was it not? Vlloth had ordered the spin up of two Interceptors as escorts. A normal fighter screen would be in order, but they were suffering in numbers to begin with as their fighter supply was already extremely diminished. Which said a lot considering the original complement of fighters that the massive dreadnaught fielded. Fielding operational fighters was becoming more and more difficult. “Are you prepared?” Vlloth heard the voice of the Empress ask of her. She grasped the helmet in front of her, turning around while holding the helmet at her side. “Yes Empress, I will be at your side and command.” The words were still foreign to her, as her time among them had been little compared to the rest of the crew and assembled beings. Nonetheless her pronouncing them was not without reverence and significance as she offered a bow. Captain Gederp was nearing the command shuttle, preparing to board, while Vlloth observed the Empress’ moving towards the shuttle as well. Her ethereal guiding them to the shuttle showed an eerie willingness to send them forth. A willingness from them that she still could not place... forced? Blind? Respective subservience? Which of them it was eluded her presently. What promise lay before them? That the crew so willingly pursued, even after seeing itself slaughtered...being after being, as they moved to this point. This place in the galaxy. A subtle, graceful, gesture offered to Captain Gerderp y the Empress, stopped him. Causing a raised brow from Vlloth as she stood at the bottom of a flight ladder. The Captain pausing and not yet boarding as other had begun to do so. In here gaze she noted the one she had come to know as Lady A’dola at the Empress’ side. Fixated on the Empress’ every move, as a silent guard and servent. The commander placed the flight helmet on her head, locking it into place, turning towards her fighter. Vlloth was quickly up into the cockpit of a Chiss Clawcraft after ascending the ladder. Settling in and beginning preflight startups, across from her one of the few remaining squadron leaders and her designate wingmate for this flight was settling into his own fighter mirroring the preflight startups. Shira , Volshe , Padawan4687
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Post by Darth Xxys on Apr 21, 2019 16:07:56 GMT -5
Behind the water fall I.C. Xxys They broke through the cascade into the space behind the waterfall. It was slick and grimy. Everyone was soaked. Xxys took the dripping hood from his head and after wringing the water from it secured it to his belt The Major had located a set of power cables and used the data pad to scan them. They were still charged. Xxys was on maximum alert. Whomever was using this cave had just been here and only the tumult of noise from the storm and waterfall had masked the parties approach. Xxys drew his saber hilt from his belt but left it deactivated. He again extended his mind to probe further ahead in the blackness of the cave. "Major, let's move along these cables. The noise of the storm is covering our approach. Two troopers just ahead of me and do not fire unless I say. Weapons set for heavy stun. @kai Erlae darthkain7dragonsith13 |
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Post by darthvoxyn on Apr 21, 2019 20:13:22 GMT -5
IC: Voxyn Dread Fortress, Oricon Arancia answered the question Voxyn and Srethros had asked and then again went into more information filled rambling. Voxyn personally had no issue with the constant rambling, it was informative and gave Voxyn something to focus on rather than the aura of fear surrounding them in the Dread Fortress. As they finally reached the end of the staircase Voxyn found himself in a room completely filled with a powerful aura of terror. In the center of the room was a red pyramid floating above a stone dais. A pyramid that Arancia identified as the Phobis Device, but before anyone could do anything else Tacite began to completely freak out. Dropping to the ground and screaming in pain and then standing back up with a lightsaber activated, speaking in a low growl stating the device belonged to him only to change from aggression to fear asking what was happening to him. “Ok and now this is happening” Voxyn said as he activated his lightsaber, the sharp cold whisper of his purple blade joining the snap hiss and hum of Tacites lightsaber. Voxyn took a guarded stance then looked around and spotted a candlestick laying over near one of the walls. Reaching out with the force Voxyn grabbed the candlestick and threw it at the back of Tacites head. TAG: Darth Catalyst taciteoccultus Darth Voidwalker |
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Post by Chreos on Apr 22, 2019 2:02:07 GMT -5
*character image (optional)*See photo below
Character Summary: human with cybernetic limbs
Name/Title: Birth Name - Rayon Mereel
Sith Lord Name -Chreos
Age: Appearance mid/late 20's.
Sex: Male.
Species: Human
Homeworld Concord dawn
Occupation: Acolyte Sith warrior
Height: 6'1
Appearance:Big built, white complection, long ponytailed hair, amethyst eyes,half of his upper upper torsoare cybernetics
Weapons: a dicreet saberstaff hidden as a cane that was refurbished from an old republic saber, he is quite quiant and sentimental that's why he chose a saber that depicts time, accompanied by a mandalorian steel short sword imbued with sith alchemy .
Equipment: a worn down mandalorian armo accompanying his cyberneti limbs, with ragged black cloak. A backpack with his saber parts, and an artifact of his former people.
Description of Abilities: too aggressive even for the Mandalorians, brutish and cunning.
Built to hunt and crush down his opponents, force sensitive and practices form 5 and tatraka
Personality: Ambitious and ruthless.
Biography: Laughter was the only sound he can hear when a tribe of Mandalorians massacred, and laid waste to his village. Rayon Mereel, was left for dead with a giant bouldet crashing down on his upper left torso. Desperate, and filled with range from seing his entire clan slaughtered, he kept shouting unti the only noise that he could hear was the laughter of the Mandalorian who killed his brother. As he reached out and and fueled his anger, he could see the warrior's body being crushed slowly. As he closed his grips, th warrior shouted louder like his pain was unbearable. Until, he closed his fist entirely and nothing was heared again from the Mandalorian. He moved th boulder with a flick of his hand,and closed his eyes.
Rank/Level:1
Class: Warrior/Apprentice
Force push/pull – 1
Force choke –1
Force jump –1
Force Lightning –1
Form V – 2
Form VII –2
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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 Apr 22, 2019 10:20:03 GMT -5
CORBOS COMBO
IC Corvar, Reaper, Darth Feros and The Leviathan Abandoned mines, Corbos
The ground shook as the beast struck down, striking only stone when it had intended to crush the young Corvar and Brooke beneath its massive weight. Possibly enraged that its attack had entirely missed its target, the behemoth turned its many eyes towards Corvar, despite Reaper attacking it from the other side of the cavern. It screeched towards him, the sound piercing the wind like a jackhammer, and driving directly into Corvar's brain.
The scream had unleashed before had been brutal, but it was not in any one direction. Before, the giant horror roared to frighten all of its prey. Now, it was focusing this cry on Corvar, and Corvar alone.
Hundreds, if not thousands, of screams were contained in the colossus's cry. They were begging for an end to an eternity of torment, yet in turn, they were giving Corvar a taste of that torment. Every painful emotion flared in his mind, overloading his brain with feeling that made Corvar want to smack his skull into the nearest wall. He clutched the sides of his head, opening his eyes to find his vision hazy while under the effects of the leviathan's scream. Where he would normally see the darkness below as he peered down into the abyss, the haze showed him something else entirely.
He saw a pool, and in this pool of darkness he saw the swirling spectres of the past, present, and future. He heard whispers that begged him to draw closer, to bathe in the abyss like a newborn babe, so that he would become something more.
The screams had to be driving him mad. Corvar shook away the haziness, allowing his eyes to clearly see that only darkness and death awaited him below.
Now, he stood once more, lightsaber buzzing with the desire for vengeance. The beast lowered in its intent to strike at its attackers, giving Corvar the small but necessary window he needed to strike.
Using the Force to propel himself into the air, Corvar leapt onto the leviathan's back, narrowly avoiding a landing onto one of the monster's sickening blisters. With his crimson blade thirsting for whatever was contained in those fleshy abnormalities, Corvar thrust downward into the nearest one, hoping to slice it open and injure the monster he tried his best to hold on to.
Feros was not in a good spot. His quick reaction had worked, but the pain was becoming almost unbearable. And now, what was worse, the beast knew he was there. The blade had done its job, slicing deep into the creature's tail. Disgusting purple ichor Feros could only fathom was what passed for it's blood had spilled onto him. But the thing was turning.
Feros knew he had to react, and do so quickly. He had to get ahead of the curve. That's when he noticed Corvar had jumped onto the thing's back. Between the pain of the screams and the Sword battering him for every Dark deed he had ever done, of which there were plenty, he didn't know how much longer he could hold on. But the Sword was a Bastion of light against something that was otherwise pure darkness made flesh.
He knew what he needed to do. Feros reached out in the Force with what little he could muster, and touched Corvar's mind. He wanted to meld. They had done so once. If they could again, and coordinate, and share the burden of pain they were both feeling, maybe they would stand a chance.
Reaper having accomplished at turning the beasts maw away from him was happy but he wasn't out of the fighting pits just yet. The beasts head was coming down still and threatening to leave him broken and battered against the rocky ground. He would not allow this to happen and so with his saber he closed his eyes quickly to gather himself and think really quickly.
Opening his eyes he looked behind him to see perhaps enough room. In front he saw the chasm and to his left the wall. He looked to the right and saw where he had come from and so he took a chance. He decided to glide backwards hoping to get out of the way of the beasts great head.
As he did this he saw Corvar jump onto the beast and chuckled to himself. The beast wouldn't last long. Not at this rate at least. With Reaper now hurting the beast, Corvar on its back and was there a cut in its tail?! Feros must have gotten the sword. And so Feros wielding the sword his beautiful beasty was fighting a losing battle.
Reaper held his saber up and swung in an arcing motion hoping that if it did land on him he'd cut through. If it landed as he hoped just in front he'd cut into its head or at least try. So as it came down he held his saber with two hands and yelled out a roar that appeared to be from his whole body. His rage coming out as he did he looked beast like in this instance baeing his teeth and his face contorted he sliced.
The Leviathan roared in agony as Corvar’s blade plunged into the blister on its back. A shapeless white mist that Corvar could have sworn had a face hidden in it rushed from the wound, accompanied by a humanlike shout. It quickly dissipated in the open air. Then he heard Feros’s voice, calling at him through the darkness and the crowded shouts that the Leviathan was blaring at them.
Reaper’s gliding leap had landed him next to Brooke, still squirming against the psychic attacks that the beast was emanating. The head of the leviathan came crashing down in front of him. The full swing of Reaper’s lightsaber brought the plasma blade down on the thick flesh of the beast, leaving a shallow burn in the Leviathan’s hide.
Another angry roar rumbled from the throat of the Leviathan, echoing through the caverns and within the heads of the combatants. Its tail thrashed wildly in an attempt to knock Feros from his stony perch. The monster righted itself, bucking Corvar on his back and threatening to send him plummeting into the darkness below if he didn’t hold on. It’s great maw opened and it centered its attention on Reaper. A gout of flames belched from the Leviathan’s throat, centered on Reaper and the helpless Brooke. It would surely burn them to ash if they did not find some way to avoid it.
Corvar felt a sense of pleasure in hearing the behemoth's cries of pain, the experience helping lessen his own, if only slightly. Yet as he moved to rip open the next blister, and the next after that, the leviathan straightened its posture, nearly sending Corvar tumbling into the darkness below.
With the reaction times befitting one as attuned to the Force as him, he took hold of the empty hole left in the creature's back after the blister that was once there had been torn open. It was utterly disgusting, as Corvar felt his right hand swimming in a pool of viscous puss. Yet in this situation of life-or-death, it was far more welcome than the alternative. With his footing so unsteady, Corvar turned his mind from the goal of opening these blisters, and instead focused on the nagging feeling he had, turning his eyes to Feros. The Sith wanted to meld again, and this time, Corvar was not afraid to release the floodgates.
In the time of a thought's breadth, a rushing river flowed between the minds of Darth Feros and Corvar. The roaring waters transported every manner of thought, whether it be memories, pain, or joy. With these thoughts, so too did power flow between them, their power in the Force amplifying to more than either could conjure on their own. This power made Corvar feel the flames erupting from the gullet of the beast before they came, and he knew that these flames were directed at Reaper and… Brooke?
Sinking into the Force, Corvar watched from eyes not his own as the fire spewed towards the pair. He could feel the sheer force of the fire breath, and knew that he would not be able to stop it entirely.
But he could certainly redirect it.
Corvar pressed on the flames, hoping to bend them to his will mid-flight, and aim them into the nearby wall of the cavern rather than on Reaper and Brooke.
After having cut into the beast with his saber Reaper rejoiced at its cries. He had dealt a blow and the wound he had left would not heal so easily. He was happy with its results. That is until the beast reared its ugly head almost flinging Corvar off. He heard the screams of the beast and had landed by Brooke whose screams he could hear. Her moaning and groaning in agony as the beast messed with her. He could do nothing to help her but he could defend her. As the beast reared up it opened its maw and let loose hellfire from its gullet. The fire was so bright and beautiful but Reaper knew he and Brooke would die if he didn't do something. And so he did the one thing he could. A selfless act. He held his hands out towards the flames and sent pulses of Force Push towards the flames hoping to weaken them. He closed his eyes and simply hoped. He waited for whatever pain may come. Later if he lived he made a mental note to yell at Brooke or Corvar or someone because this was definitely going to leave a mark and most likely not a pretty one.
An almost nauseating vortex of feelings and emotions flooded Feros' assaulted psyche. And then it was gone. Replaced with anger, rage, a quiet confidence, and pure violent, malicious intent. Feros knew Corvar had accepted his meld. He could almost see through Corvar's eyes.
Flames belched from the mouth of the Leviathan as it spewed and thrashed in its wounded rage. They had broken its peace. It was again what the Old Masters had created it to be. A device of perfect malevolence and savage destruction. But it was only one.
Feros noticed something else as well. The pain of the light side assault was subsisting. He wasn't sure, but he would have guessed Corvar had at least some knowledge of the Light. Right now, however, none of that mattered. What mattered was one thing. The Sword was no longer attempting to kill him from within. It must have recognized at least some shred of light and accepted it.
Feros saw the monster thrashing and belching flames. Corvar, elbow deep in its viscera hanging on for dear life. Brooke all but catatonic on the ground. Reaper trying to push back the flames he knew Corvar was trying to redirect. Feros only saw one option.
He filled himself with admittedly more Force Energy than he should have been capable of. Then he ran, spinning the sword in a downward grip, and launched himself into the air, lifting the hilt of the sword high over his head. He'd skewer the beast's mouth closed and let it cook itself from inside.
He sent a thought to Corvar, and a sabbacc term came to mind as he did so. "Stay low. Coming up."
The tidal wave of emotions that now bonded Corvar and Feros in thought meant that each could now feel the others pain as well. A fire burned within Corvar, as if to punish him for sins he had not yet committed. Feros’s pain lessened considerably however; he could think more freely without the all consuming torture of holding the blade.
The flames that shot towards Reaper were hardly deterred by his Force push. It seemed as if he was about to die in this place for nothing. The geyser of fire did not consume him however. Reaper could see it ever so slightly bending away from him. Time seemed to slow down. Each moment, the deadly flames contorted further from their target until they blasted into the wall adjacent to the entrance that brought them into this chamber.
The Leviathan seemed to sense the amplified Force power that was now flowing freely between Corvar and Feros. It turned its attention away from Reaper and instead focused on the being that was now assaulting its back. It shook its leathery hide like a dewback trying to rid itself of insects. Corvar would be thrown free if he did not find a way to hold himself steady. The beast then centered its attention on Feros and the sword. It lunged at the flying Sith, tentacles reaching from its toothy maw to try to ensnare Feros midair and leave him helplessly dangling over the Leviathan’s mouth.
TAG: trentongordon, darthkain7, darthferos
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Post by Darth Voidwalker on Apr 22, 2019 10:41:25 GMT -5
IC: Srethros Dread Fortress, Oricon Listening to the Gand dwell on again about the spirits that still lingered with in the fortress, and how they were not simply stuck in a loop of motion, Srethros and the others rounded the last turn of the staircase. Stepping into the circular chamber, the room possessed an immense aura of fear. This feeling of fear was overwhelming. Since birth, Srethros had been raised in a war like culture and trained as a warrior. This feeling of fear was foreign, horrible, and almost maddening. Trying to fight away the feeling, Srethros attempted to focus one anything to pull his mind away from his current emotional distress. That’s when he seen it, in the middle of the chamber was a pedestal with what appeared to be a Sith holocron floating just inches above it. This holocron was the source of the aura of fear and glowing red light. It was like no other holocron that Srethros had ever seen, it was strange beyond anything imaginable. That was when the Gand pointed at the glowing pyramid and simply stated “The Phobis Device.” Well we have come this far, let’s retrieve the device and finally be on our way. Perhaps I should have my monster go and fetch it, especially if there’s a trap. Better to give his life than mine.Hearing the sound of a lightsaber activating, Srethros quickly turned his attention to his apprentice. "It's miiiiiiine." Tacite called out, his eyes glowing yellow, before briefly returning to his normal color. "What's happening?" He asked, this time the sound of fear present in his voice. The monster let out another scream. A scream that sounded to be a mixture of terror and pain. “Ok and now this is happening” the other acolyte called out as he quickly activated his own lightsaber. As the acolyte went into a stance, he reached out with the force and hurled a candlestick at Tacite. Quickly taking note of the situation, Srethros also ignited his own lightsaber, the purple blade springing to life next to Voxyn’s. Srethros didn’t even take the time to see if the acolyte’s makeshift weapon had landed at its intended target. “Acolyte, can we not provoke the monster any more? Something is happening with his primal mind! The...” Something else is wrong! My words, the sound flat, even the lightsabers sound dead. What is going on here? We need to get out of here before anything progresses. “Acolyte, don’t become a meal for this monster. If you do, I’ll kill you myself. Just be ready!” “Hey you stupid monster, what’s wrong with you? I didn’t give you any sort of commands. Do not forget, you belong to me. Now I demand that you deactivate your weapon and kneel where you are!” TAG: Darth Catalyst taciteoccultus darthvoxyn |
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Post by darthkain7 on Apr 22, 2019 11:48:26 GMT -5
IC: Darth Kain On the Back of a Raging Monster, Corbos The bond was reformed between Feros and Corvar, creating a river that rushed both up and downstream, allowing all thoughts and feelings to be felt between the two. While Feros’ pain from wielding the Jedi sword dissipated, Corvar began to feel half of that pain. It was like the fire in his heart had burned out of control, igniting a flame along his veins and arteries, traveling throughout his entire body and burning everything in its path. Images flashed in his mind: the horrified faces of the guards on Nar Shaddaa as lightsabers drove through their chests, the utter horror of the Twi'lek he had captured from the Tranquility, the burning corpses of his slave masters as he escaped his life of servitude on Tatooine, the half-eaten corpse of his best friend. All of his sins ran through his mind like a highlight reel, and they were causing him quite a bit of pain. But he refused to allow his sins outweigh the good he had done. His memories turned towards the good he'd done: saving that Twi'lek from the Tranquility, saving the few slaves he could from the slaver's camp. He hoped this would lessen the pain from what he assumed had to be the Jedi's sword, but he was unable to tell either way, as his footing on the Leviathan's back was being threatened. The pain from the connection had distracted him from the monster's efforts at shaking him loose at first, causing his grip within the beast's blister to disappear. Corvar flew from the Leviathan's back, soaring a few meters into the air before he decided to retain his position. Before striking the ground, Corvar attempted to Force Pull on to the creature. He would not be powerful enough to move the Leviathan much, he wagered, but he could pull himself to the beast instead. TAGS: Darth Catalyst , darthferos , trentongordon TAGSET: Corbos |
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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 Apr 22, 2019 19:22:03 GMT -5
IC Darth Arancia Dread Fortress, Oricon Arancia was already stiff when Tacite began acting up. The thrum of a lightsaber caught the Gand off guard and Tacite’s mad screams did nothing to help the situation. He could only stare at the Anzat in mixed awe and fear. Silhouetted against the form of the would-be Sith was another spirit. Not one that matched the rest of the haunts in this citadel though. This one seemed to be attached to Tacite himself. It was not his own soul, but one far more powerful and malevolent. It radiated an aura of hatred and greed that was not matched by what Arancia had seen the young acolyte display. Two more lightsabers activated beside Arancia. Voxyn and Srethros were much more ready in their reactions. Voxyn’s resigned observation contrasted starkly with Srethros’s barked orders at Tacite, but the former was quicker on the draw, launching a heavy candlestick at the raving Anzat. “ Hey you stupid monster, what’s wrong with you?” Srethros growled at Tacite. “ I didn’t give you any sort of commands. Do not forget, you belong to me. Now I demand that you deactivate your weapon and kneel where you are!” Tacite, regardless of his willingness to comply with such commands, soon found himself facedown on the cool floor of the Fortress. The candlestick struck true, bludgeoning the back of his head and knocking him into blissful unconsciousness. Arancia turned to his fellows, still in a stupor. “Did you see? The Anzat is possessed. A malevolent spirit has taken his mind. Do you not sense it?” Voxyn would be able to sense little, between the aura that the Phobis device was permeating the room with and Tacite’s own ever-present hunger, but Srethros would very clearly sense what Arancia was alluding to. Something that definitely was not Anzat in nature was wrapped around the Darksider’s mind, battling for supremacy and at this point, leaving little doubt that Tacite’s current actions were not his own. TAG: darthvoxyn , taciteoccultus , Darth Voidwalker,
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Post by Deleted on Apr 23, 2019 1:25:01 GMT -5
IC: Etami Wren
Location: Viscretus’ Shuttle
Etami was dumbfounded about the situation that had occurred in front of her. And despite any attempt to understand what had just happened, the girl settled with the thoughts that she would never figure out the full gist of what was happening in front of her. However, when Voidwalker seemingly returned to normal, Etami sighed in relief as she was just glad that the man was alive. Watching him seemingly get up from his hysterics practically unscathed before leaving out the cockpit, Etami would decide to follow suit knowing she still had more to discuss with the acolyte. Walking in silence as a look of disbelief still covered her helmet hidden face, Etami nearly forgot that she had her communication device on and active. It came to life as she hit a corner near the kitchen and caused the Mandalorian to flinch. “Hey Captain! How is the ride with the clients? Are we looking for at a big paycheck soon?” Her lieutenant asked through the device. “Oh Wrecks that’s you. After what I just saw and experienced, you actually managed to scare me for once. Now I’m going to have hear you brag about that for a week right.” Etami replied as she felt a small headache forming at the back of her head. She wanted nothing more than to take her helmet off and try to relax but with all the crazies around, Etami didn’t dare show how she was feeling that openly. Reaching the kitchen, Etami switched the output for her device to inside her helmet to keep the conversation from being eavesdropped on from anyone else. The output finally switched over right as her foot crossed over the threshold to the kitchen and the woman listened as the crew member finally talked back to her. “Oh you know it Captain! But like I was asking, are we getting our nice payday? It would be great to finish this job and actually take some time off for once. Or maybe if you think they are weak enough, we can whack them real quick and take the credits and ship for ourselves.” The suggestion though it sounded feasible, Etami wouldn’t dare try to kill the blonde Sith woman who she knew led the group. Shaking her head though she knew it couldn’t be seen she finally caught a glimpse of Voidwalker and realized she needed to end this conversation now. “Look I have to finish ironing out the details. Stay tuned for the full details so you know what’s going on.” Ending the call after finishing her statement, she turned to Voidwalker as she wanted to figure out the rest of this conversation about money now so she wouldn’t have to worry about it later. “So acolyte… now that you are feeling a little better do you think we can finish our talks about compensation?” Etami asked hoping the man would feel up discussing credits with her. Tag: Darth Dreadwar, Volshe, Darth Voidwalker, darthvoxyn
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Post by darthkain7 on Apr 23, 2019 1:42:19 GMT -5
IC: The Terentatek Sinister Sith Temple, Korriban As the monster began to move forward, its agape mouth drooling with the anticipation of a pair of easy kills, it stopped. A pressure had quickly appeared in the Force, oppressing everything and everyone in the area. It was centered around the girl that the beast had just tossed aside. While she was definitely going to be the hardest to kill, the beast had wanted the easy meals first. But now, with the pressure this prey was giving off, it was like ringing the dinner bell. Roaring, the Terentatek moved to charge at the woman, ready to rip her limb from limb and drink her Force-enriched blood like it was ambrosia. But it was interrupted once again, this time by the weaker prey. A blast of Force Lightning struck against its flesh, sizzling skin and creating thick blisters on the monster's hide. Unable to distinguish which prey would be tastiest while in pain, it instead lashed out at the one it was most furious at: the Mirialan. Charging like a raging bull, the Terentatek dashed forward with preternatural speed, its head lowered so that its massive tusks could impale the man who had struck it with lightning. Trill would see this, and before she could react, there would be two hindrances that she would immediately notice. The first would be a sudden dizziness, unlike any she had experienced even with severe head trauma. She would find that the Terentatek's claws had made their mark across her side when it had swatted her away, and that the wounds the claws left were turning a sickening green. The claws of a Terentatek were highly poisonous. The second she would notice would be a blast of Force energy heading in her direction, knocking her back just a hair over a meter but not forcing her off her feet. While the poison would begin impairing her vision if she did not counteract it, she would most assuredly know who had pushed her. Trinaya. The girl who had been the nicest to her throughout this entire journey. Trinaya, meanwhile, would feel the Force struggling against her as she then tried to bring down the roof of the Smithy onto the behemoth before them. The pulling of Malos to safety as well as the push to Trill had sapped her of a lot of energy, and the attempt to bring down the roof nearly depleted it. And unfortunately for her, the beast's charge towards Volacius had given it plenty of space between it and the Smithy, causing the few stones that she had move to miss their target. Thankfully, at least, she had not attracted the beast's attention. Yet. TAGS: @lordjania , cliojayne , volacius TAGSET: Sinister Sith ___________________________________
IC: Zul'tar The Tomb of Darth Cognus, Korriban The Dathomirian warrior cared not for the outstanding architecture of this ancient Sith Lord's tomb. A hole in the ground was as important to a corpse as an extravagant mausoleum was. The others had remained entirely quiet, eerily so. He hoped he had not hired on a bunch of mutes for this mission. Then again, perhaps that was best for a team sent to hunt down a rogue spy. Either way, it made Zul'tar uneasy. Even when traveling with someone as intimidating as Zhav'vorsa, the great warlord, Zul'tar had never lacked the opportunity for conversation, even if it was limited to Zhav insulting him for a majority of it. The entrance to the tomb was as grand as the rest of it; two gargantuan stone doors, engraved with stories of old. Zul'tar observed these stories a bit before moving on, seeing a hulking man with dark eyes clashing with a beautiful woman with long-flowing hair. Then image transitioned downward, to the woman walking alongside who had to be the being entombed here: Darth Cognus. These doors must have told some of this Sith's past. Interesting for a history student, but nothing to a primitive man from a primitive world. It did not take as much force as Zul'tar expected to open the doors, using the power of the Fanged God to enhance his physical strength and push the stone entrance ajar. The others followed, entering the tomb moments before the stone doors automatically slid shut; they must have been ran by some sort of outdated mechanism. Regardless, the only possibility of light lied nearby, an unlit torch holstered in a sconce on the wall by the doors. Beyond that, it was total darkness; the spy must have extinguished the torches so that those who followed would not believe him to be there. But Zul'tar had hunted prey his entire life, and intelligent prey was little different from the opposite. More dangerous, sure, but still entirely predictable. Retrieving a piece of flint and steel from his pocket, Zul'tar struck a flame onto the head of the torch, igniting it and allowing its flickering glow to spread across the entrance hall, the light creating shadows that danced along the walls like raving madmen. The shadows we're spawned from display cases alongside both sides of the hall, each drawing the eyes of the others surely, as Zul'tar moved forward. Suits of ancient Sith armor, statues that depicted classic Iktotchi art styles as well as a few Sith pieces, all rather generic yet enticing nonetheless. The hall continued until the group of spy hunters reached the central hub for the tomb. To the north, east, and west were paths that they could possibly take, though the north side appeared to be the site of a cave-in, as a wall of crumbled rocks and debris lied in the way. In front of it, however, was a single display case with items far more intriguing than the rest, at least in Zul'tar's eyes. Three vibroblades, each exotic in make glowing with what could possibly be enchantments. What these enchantments were, Zul'tar could not say, but he had a feeling that these blades were once used by Darth Cognus herself, before and possibly even after she had obtained her lightsaber.  Shaking away the thought of procuring those blades, Zul'tar turned his eyes to the east and west hallways. The dark side was strong here, blinding his senses as much as his eyes were in this confounded darkness. He could not tell which hall would lead to their quarry, and he could not take the chance of them taking the wrong path, only for the spy to sneak out the way they came and possibly lock them inside. They would have to split up. Zul'tar turned towards his followers. He quickly decided how to split them up, based on what he felt were their strengths and weaknesses. “We need to cover both paths so that the spy cannot escape this way. I will head to the east hallway with Jekyll and Renn. Mitth, Nuz'wogan, and Vizuul: you take the west. If anything that isn't one of us moves, you kill it. No questions asked. No mercy. Failure won't be punished by just me, but by your Emperor, too. Be wary of that.”TAGS: Mitthfisto , taciteoccultus , darthbernael , claiomhsolais , DarthVizuul TAGSET: Tomb of Cognus Attachments:
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Post by aureliaillium on Apr 23, 2019 19:43:35 GMT -5
IC: Nameless/ Nix Location: The Brig For an instant she felt the presence of the Dark, and she grasped at it vainly. She felt it from one of the cells, could feel the outline of its shape...more entity than human. Like….like her Father. “ Father!” she shrieked our in the silent call of the Dark, her mind speaking in the ancient tongue her father had used. A Nameless language. “ Follow me…” she projected the thought frantically. That single thought was the only one she had before two guards came in to enchain her in heavy armor. A collar, mask and further restraints clamped down upon her. The Nameless was still far too weak to resist, her muscles spasming and limp from the carbonite freezing. For now she would have to accept surrender. Learn to lose. It was something her father had said often enough, before he’d lost everything. Even his form. Even his memory of Nix… “We’re going to the captain’s hangars,” one captor seethed, “don’t try anything. The mask restricts your Force powers. The shock collar and restraints will prevent your escape.” The warning was a waste of breath. Nameless could feel the electric shock thrumming in the cuffs, and as for the Force...she didn’t understand what he meant. She knew the Dark. But even that had been fleeting even before they placed the burdensome mask upon her. Lost for 4,000 years perhaps, except for that Void she’d momentarily felt in one of the cells. Could it really be? No, it was impossible….she Dark has showed her his end and there were plenty of other Rhandites that lost their form. It was a mark of the greatest honor. She’d felt something Void, something pure, like her Father. But there was nothing she could do about it in chains. She could only follow her captors and access the situation. Wait for her chains to be broken. Wait for the Dark to return. Tag: @volshe dwomutsiqsa |
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Volshe
Administrator
.: Empress
Posts: 229
Likes: 163
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Post by Volshe on Apr 24, 2019 0:27:56 GMT -5
COMBO WITH DREADWAR(ish)
IC: Darth Apollyon, Erastus, and Darth Viscretus
Viscretus’ Shuttle, En Route to Dantooine
"Are we ready, then?"
Erastus perked up the instant Viscretus spoke. He and Apollyon were seated in the shuttle's corridor for the intended briefing as Viscretus had requested; during the time she had spent in the refresher, they had seemingly dozed off together, Apollyon's head lolling to the side until it was resting on Erastus' shoulder. "Huh... wha..." Apollyon blinked drowsily, wiping drool from the side of her mouth as she straightened. "Gross," Erastus chuckled, rubbing the wet patch on his shoulder and straightening himself. Given that they had both vacated the cockpit less than a minute after Viscretus, they must have been sleeping in the corridor for at least ten minutes.
Apollyon didn't feel less tired. She felt more tired. Frustrating.
She couldn't help but yawn, bleary eyes barely processing the manner of dress Viscretus was wearing until she noticed Erastus' own expression beside her. As soon as he had looked up and his eyes focused, he had become enthralled.
Viscretus was wearing the sinfully silken garb of a temptress, sheer gold barely cloaking the form-fitting black dress, the split to the thigh - no, the waist - letting him trace his eyes all along her beautiful legs, the fabric barely skimming her breasts.
Apollyon narrowed her eyes. Viscretus was an elegant woman, she knew, one who thought little of the brazen seductions of the more vulgar Sith courtesans. The likes of Darth Talon no doubt disgusted her. What, then, was she doing dressed in garb that scarcely left more to the imagination than Darth Talon's own infamous apparel? Was this not simply Viscretus' classier equivalent?
Apollyon's eyes darted between her assistant and Viscretus. His gaping expression. His being the only male at this briefing... The awkwardness between them at the meeting with the Emperor that morning. Could... could it be? Could Viscretus be seducing her assistant?
“It looks as though we are,” Viscretus replied, with coy smile on her face. In a split second she was sashaying the two strides between her doorway and the corridor seats, then propping herself one handedly on the console desk.
She could feel Erastus’ thoughts, but she also could sense Apollyon’s through even the bewildered expression she gave. She met only Apollyon’s eyes, giving Erastus only slight glances from the corner of her eye. Her face shifted to a deep, rather theatrical concern. “Is there something the matter, Zelashiel?”
TAG: my ship peeps
TAGSET: Dantooine
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Volcryn
Citizen
Posts: 13
Likes: 10
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Post by Volcryn on Apr 24, 2019 1:48:06 GMT -5
IC: Volcryn. The Inverted Pyramid. Yavin IV. For the third time in as many hours Volcryn landed less-than-gracefully on less-than-comfortable ground. And for the second time in as many hours a pair of weapons that nobody else were using had carried him to safety after brashly rushing into situations he hadn’t taken the time to assess. Havok seemed even more surprised at his survival, though apparently for quite different reasons. “What... what was that?” That was odd, hadn’t he guessed it at this point? Well to be fair he hadn’t seen the full extent of what they were, so that was understandable. “Wires.” He flexed his fingers, letting the invisible strings vibrate and rattle just barely. “They’re made from fibres harder than durasteel, but they’re made so thin and so flexible that they’re virtually invisible to the naked eye. They can cut through virtually anything, including that one it seems.” He looked back at the Sithspawn, now laying in bloody bits on the floor. Some of the blood had doused him too, but that didn’t matter. Not that this fight had much significance on the whole. In the end the two of them had met and the one incapable of freeing itself had ended up being plunged into a cage it could never escape. It had just been a sentient stepping stone for his own helix staircase. On that note he fell back into the Force and pulled back his two knives, and then his lightsaber, finally letting it deactivate. It seemed like that was that, at least for this first floor. That didn’t mean anything at this point though. He had already let his superficial senses thoughtlessly get him into dangerous situations. There were no sources of light he could see outside of Havok’s lightsaber and the opened trapdoor at the very top. That wasn’t a good sign, so he pulled his own lightsaber back into his sleeve and pulled out a pair of knives. In the lands without light, the one with a torch was the easiest target. “Well, shall we go?” TAG: Darth Dreadwar. |
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Post by Mitthfisto on Apr 24, 2019 18:55:34 GMT -5
IC: Mitth TsuroThe Tomb of Darth Cognus, KorribanFirst was exterior where they had all wordlessly allowed Zul'tar to open the stone doors. If a spy was in there then they likely were not too hard to open or had a hidden button in one of the pictographs that depicted history in a method best suited for infants. Compared to details in a scroll these were worthless, compared to a holocron even less so. So beyond a quick eye for hidden buttons or weapons ports they had passed through without incident. Walking in had been a revelry in ancient artifacts. Something which if he was allowed to possess he would quickly sell, as humanoid armor had no uses to him, and Zul'tar had made their mission clear. Well, clear what their objective was, looting of course was an - on your way out - unspoken affair. Once inside where Zul'tar had lit a lone torch and moved forward to the first chamber where the path split. Ahead to the north side appeared to be the site of a cave-in, as a wall of crumbled rocks and debris lied in the way. In front of it, however, was a single display case with items far more intriguing than the rest, the first that could actually be of immediate use. Three vibroblades, each exotic in make glowing with what could possibly be enchantments. Only he was not an artificer nor enchanter. If he took them they would be useful, someday. Not today as more likely he would trigger a safeguard and the enchantments would take knowledge how to properly use. As a peon and slave he did not have those skills nor authority. Yet. Shaking his head with a snort at the display case he turned to Zul'tar's words of how they were to divvy up. “We need to cover both paths so that the spy cannot escape this way. I will head to the east hallway with Jekyll and Renn. Mitth, Nuz'wogan, and Vizuul: you take the west. If anything that isn't one of us moves, you kill it. No questions asked. No mercy. Failure won't be punished by just me, but by your Emperor, too. Be wary of that.” Zul'tar stated, once more brandishing the stick of authority with his words if not by hand. Bowing his head and blinking deeply he replied simply, " Sa." Turning he looked to the other two and whether they would plan at this point or simply plod forward. Whatever they decided, even him leading the way he would do. After all, he was the one with a slave collar on his horn right now. If they spy was watching and he did not act subservient even to these, instead of the last he might become the first target. TAG: taciteoccultus, darthbernael, claiomhsolais, @twiztnbound
darthkain7
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Post by Darth Voidwalker on Apr 24, 2019 20:13:28 GMT -5
IC: Voidwalker Location: Viscretus’ Shuttle, Hyperspace, En Route to Dantooine Standing in the small kitchen of the shuttle, Voidwalker blankly stared at the cabinets and conservator, as if he knew to open the doors but wasn’t sure how to. He merely focused on the hate building inside himself, for he knew that if he didn’t then the fear would take over again. Hatred was power, it helped Voidwalker focus. Fear, fear was controlling and for the weak. Voidwalker preyed upon fear and drank it up from his victims, for him to now experience the feeling to that magnitude was devastating almost. After a moments of completely focusing, Voidwalker quickly remembered what he had come into the kitchen for. That kiss from Viscretus had left his mouth dryer than the sand back on Korriban. Plus on top of the events a few moments ago, he could really use a drink. Stretching his arms out and gripping the handle of the Conservator, his thoughts were broken by a familiar voice. “So acolyte… now that you are feeling a little better do you think we can finish our talks about compensation?” Ignoring the Mercenary, Voidwalker opened the door of the Conservator and glanced over the drink options that were available to him. Spotting a bottle of liquor, Voidwalker decided on his selection. Opening the bottle of the brown liquid, Voidwalker tilted the bottle back and took a drink. Feeling the liquid burn all the way down as he swallowed, his body shivered and tingled from the quick sensation. Just as Voidwalker started to raise the bottle to his lips once more, the Dark Lady Viscretus walked from the cockpit and through the kitchen, never saying a word or even looking in the direction of Voidwalker. Once she past and continued on her way, the bottle of liquor once again found its way to Voidwalker’s lips as more was swallowed. After a third long drink from the bottle, Voidwalker finally turned to face the Mercenary. “I know you originally offered twenty-thousands credits, however that’s not feasible. You seen what Viscretus was able to do to me in just a kiss, she won’t want anyone that must depend on help. Besides we’re already an acolyte short. How about we say fourteen-thousand? Just think about it, no need to make any rash decisions right now. We still have plenty of time, besides I’m not much in a talking mood. No offense.” Turning away from the woman and taking interest again in the bottle of liquor, Voidwalker lost his senses as the warm liquid filled his mouth and burned once again all the way down. Footsteps approached as assumingely the other Sith Lady and the officer passed from the cockpit through the kitchen and further into the shuttles corridor. Once the two steps of footsteps passed, Voidwalker leaned against the wall with the bottle still in his hand. As he started to raise the bottle to his lips again, the realization had sat in that he was missing his lightsaber that had been in his hand when he entered the cockpit earlier. Openly and quietly cursing himself, Voidwalker moved from the wall to the pass through of the cockpit to see if his lightsaber still laid upon the floor. Much to his surprise, there it laid on the floor. It was as if time had stood still and preserved the hilt. Using the Force by reaching out, Voidwalker called the weapon back to its rightful place , held within his hand. As his hand gripped the hilt, it was as if a burst of energy rushed over Voidwalker. Quick flashes of the mental terror flashed in his mind, almost bringing the familiar cold sweat of terror to his skin. The brief shock of the memory causing him to lean back quickly against the wall and clip his lightsaber back to his side. Damn her! She’s plagued my mind, now these terrors haunt me and who knows how long these images will stay. Damnit Voidwalker get it together! You have more training and knowledge than the typical acolyte. You are a living warrior and she...she is just a sorceress. You’re better than this, but, this liquor is even better.His thoughts trailed off as Voidwalker once again brought the bottle up for another drink. Swallowing the liquor he could feel the effects of the alcohol starting to lighten his mood and feel his head starting to feel lighter than a feather. "Are we ready, then?" The words echoed from the hall that served as a meeting place for those in charge of this mission. Voidwalker willed himself away from the wall and attempt to take a step. Clearly he didn’t have his proper footing as he stumbled toward the exit of the kitchen using the wall as a guide. As he reached the exit of the kitchen, he stood fully upright and walked without help. Rounding the corner the half dressed acolyte kept quiet at the back as he leaned back on the wall to listen to what he could. He must have missed something in the time it took him to enter and get situated, as Viscretus was addressing the other two again. “Is there something the matter, Zelashiel?” I don’t know who Zelashiel is, but it looks like I got here in time. As much as I hate her, it’s hard to hate the sight of that dress and then legs. Perhaps I should of held off on threatening her.....What the hell am I thinking? Bless me old ones, there has to be something wrong with me! Or is this her doing? No it can’t be. I was drawn to her before the cockpit occurrence. Still, as a man she is stunning, but as a Sith, I wish to skin her and remove her head from her shoulders. Now the other lady, well she might be my best ticket for some r&r. She seems to be the warrior type. Wonder if she wants a drink?Voidwalker quietly brought the bottle back up to his lips and took another long drink. TAG: Darth Dreadwar Volshe @lordjania darthvoxyn |
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Post by dwomutsiqsa on Apr 24, 2019 23:41:51 GMT -5
IC:Entheos Location: The Brig With Entheos' special hood down, the cell, and beyond, could feel the presence of an all-consuming void. Unlike the gluttonous Nihilus or the God-Emperor Dreadwar, Entheos was not pitch-black, if one could even call the event horizon of a black hole such a thing. Celestial bodies - projected in real time - sprawled Entheos tenebrous skin, cosmic tattoos, a gift from the destruction of Alderaan and the horrifying ritual conducted on Entheos by the Sorcerers of Rhand soon after. The two Neutron stars that Entheos used to symbolize his eyes glared intently at the Warden, though he seemed to be distracted with the most unguarded now. The Warden was intimidating to many, but nothing he had could match the power of infinity. The Warden's own negative emotions would be his undoing, for that only strengthened the power of Entheos' special gaze. "Father!" A voice cried out in the Dark. 'Poor Nix,' thought the dissimilar Entheos. He raised his hood once again, smothering the sickening effects of his aura. "Follow me..." Entheos sat down again, focused, and peered through the Dark, grasping on to an emerald green comet, Nix's life force within his vision of the Dark, and saw its end and its rebirth, and its journey to the heart of a supermassive black hole. He stood in his cell and tore off his hood. The power he'd learned in the Kathol Rift first came to mind. 'Fold Space,' thought Entheos. He lifted his torn hood in his hand; a puff of dust signalled it's relinquishment. He felt something glide on the cold air of the Triumphant, just outside his cell. It was his hood! Someone was getting closer. Was he/she here for the hood or Entheos? 'Perhaps both,' thought Entheos. Animated, he removed his gloves and bone bracers. 'Damn equipment won't affect me for long, if at all!' He pressed his left hand against the wall of his cell, as it rusted, he laughed within his mind. He'd seen the "best" and the "worst" of the galaxy. Now all he had to do was experience it as it is: chaotic and seemingly pointless. But the struggle itself was enough to fill his chasmic heart, and the call to the void replaced his usual glacial calm with animation. This is nothing like a drug, no, this is happiness in its purest form. The faintly warm ambivalence of melancholy melded with a sullen cold and fissured the last barrier of his once passionless mind. "Reality is an illusion, but I am a part of that illusion that exists paradoxical to the platitude of my order." He spoke in a distorted manner this time, in a way that only Dark Force entities like Nihilus could. Some theorized it to be the pure language of the Force, undiluted by the meddling of midi-chlorians, suggesting there was something pure about him and the Wounds that existed before him. Entheos waited for the guards to place that metal upon his face. Entheos is the Dark. The metal would rust and disintegrate soon after touching his "shadow flesh." But if he could prevent it's decay long enough, he could free himself and the others. 'Nothing left to do for now... but wait.' Volshe , aureliaillium , |
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Volshe
Administrator
.: Empress
Posts: 229
Likes: 163
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Post by Volshe on Apr 25, 2019 0:00:17 GMT -5
Combo with DreadwarIC: Apollyon, Viscretus, and ErastusViscretus’ Shuttle, En Route to...Dantooine?Apollyon held Viscretus' gaze. There were only two options ahead of her. Either she confront this libertine temptress' blatant attempts at seduction now, or she let her assistant be caught in the mouth of the beast and be plucked away. To be a friend or to be a fiend... Ever one to poke the metaphorical dragon, the choice was an easy one. Apollyon stood, folding her arms as she gave Viscretus a look half-way between exasperated and disgusted. "You've got to be kidding me," she said. "Why are you strutting around like a strumpet in the street, Lady Viscretus?" Viscretus’ attention was momentarily caught on Voidwalker, who had evidently appeared right at another moment of chaos. And as Apollyon spoke... Viscretus’ mouth almost fell open as wide as Erastus’. Almost. She caught it and sculpted it instead into a pretty smile, lips slightly parted. There was rarely anything more irritating to Apollyon than utter nonchalance. “A...strumpet?” Viscretus blinked, more of a flirtatious fluttering of her eyelashes than anything, but also pouted. “It’s all the rage in the Core Worlds. I thought it was lovely. And evidently, I’m not the only one.” She inclined her head just slightly - not only towards Erastus, but also the now gawking-and-somewhat-intoxicated Voidwalker. “Surely you aren’t *offended* by my choice in dress?” Or are you perhaps jealous of the attention I’ve garnered? She sent the last sentence exclusively through the Force, a barb that would certainly not impress Erastus. "Offended?" Apollyon glanced aside to Voidwalker, before returning Viscretus' faux innocent stare. "No," she said. "But mayhaps you shouldn't be so bothered by acolytes gawking over you, if you're going to wear something like that." Erastus' own eyes were flicking between Apollyon and Viscretus both. Where before he had been agape due to Viscretus' choice in apparel, now he was rather more slack-jawed thanks to the brewing catfight. He dared not say a word; getting in the way of two Sith Ladies sounded like a fast way to die, especially if one had seduced you and was looking to seduce you again... and the other was your boss. "I, uh, have to get more caf," he mumbled, making to stand. "No, stay, Erastus," Apollyon snapped. "Stay and gawk at my friend here. It's what she wants. In fact, she probably brought me on this mission just because if I came you would... Wait... Wait." Apollyon took a step back, head shaking as she looked downward, eyes narrowing. For a second, confusion was her countenance. And then she looked up. The black pits of her eyes were ablaze. "HOW DARE YOU!" she screeched. "YOU MIND-TRICKED ME! I WAS MEANT TO GO TO YAVIN! THIS SHIP IS GOING TO DANTOOINE!"Viscretus went to take a step back, but there was only an inch of space between the point of her stilettos and the chill of durasteel. She fumbled through her thoughts for a reply, shock at her friend’s sudden realization taking precedence to forming words. “Just! Just! Hang on!” She walked sideways, tiny steps so as to not provoke Apollyon further with sudden movement. A minor fight was something she could handle aboard the tiny shuttle. This? Not so much. “Yes! I did!” Her hand went up in cautioning. Honesty at this point was her only option. The bitter sarcasm in the back of her throat would only guarantee worsening chaos. And chaos in hyperspace was...not good. “But I desperately needed your help, and you wouldn’t listen!” "Needed my help?" Apollyon spat, pulling the hilt of her lightsaber from her belt - but not yet igniting it. "What, in bedding my assistant?" Apollyon took three swift steps forward, but it was not an attack. Instead, she sidled up to Erastus, snaking her arms around his chest from behind. "Oh, Erastus, my friend is so amazing," she cooed. Erastus gulped, looking nervously down at the inactive lightsaber a few inches from his neck. "Why don't you sleep with her?" Apollyon continued, mocking. "I promise I'll rewaaard you," she breathed into his ear, before stepping back. Erastus looked up at Viscretus with a helpless expression. "There," Apollyon snapped. "Is that the help you wanted? Now drop out of hyperspace and turn this ship back around!!" She shouted the last sentence, turning her head towards the cockpit so Erik could hear. “No.” Viscretus replied simply, trying to hide the violent shade of crimson that rushed to her cheeks. Her voice rose, a second order directed to the piloting Erik, louder than Apollyon’s. “No, he will not ‘turn this ship around’. We’ll continue on to the next hyperspace beacon and drop out there. Conveniently, that will be Yavin.” She stepped forward to close the distance, her voice low. “I needed your help in my tactical planning and infiltration of my personal vault. I needed your assistant’s help in deciphering various cataloguing, and reviewing for pertinent factual information. But! Since you seem to be far more preoccupied with commanding my romantic life, than aiding your Sith order you’re so loyal to...” Her fingers waved to the currently-inaccessible ramp, in a grandiose motion. “When we arrive in an hour or whatever it may be - I invite you - and you alone, as I will not have my mission further jeopardized - to certainly get the kriff off of my ship.” TAG: Darth Dreadwar , Darth Voidwalker , darthvoxyn , @lordjania TAGSET: Dantooine
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Post by taciteoccultus on Apr 25, 2019 10:54:41 GMT -5
GM Approved
Name: Samael
Title: The Lightbringer
Age: 15
Sex: Male
Species: Deveronian
Homeworld: Unknown
Occupation: None
Height: 5"8'
Appearance: Red skin, Black horns, sharp teeth, black robes
Weapons: One blue lightsaber
Equipment: None
Description of Abilities: Tend to be hot
Personality: Has always had a hard time controlling his emotions
Biography: The Jedi found baby Samael discarded in a dumpster on Coruscant, and took him in after noticing his sensitivity to the Force. As the child grew they noticed he was having a hard time controlling his emotions. When it was time to leave the stage of becoming a youngling and being trained as a padawan by a Master the Council chose one that they felt would be able to help Samael learn to control his emotions. The night before the ceremony Samael snuck into his soon to be Master's room whilst they slept to get a sneak peek at who he would be training with. Samael always had a thing for for fire, the Council had no idea he had learned to summon it theough the Force. When he saw his soon to be Master he felt he should celebrate and summoned fire burning the man to a crisp. Samael has no idea what he did was wrong. Upon learning what happened the Jedi Council expelled the young man from their order. Now he travels from place to place no longer having a place he could call home. Eventually on his travels, he met a Sith that taught him the ways of the Dark Side. He two met a crispy end amidst the night. Once more the boy travels.
Level/Stats (for new players): Lvl 1
Class: Sorcerer
Skills:
Force push/pull – 1
Force jump – 1
Force Defense – 1
Pyrokenisis – 1
Mind Trick – 1
Form III – 1
Force Lightning – 1
(Sorcerer tree only) Force Drain –1
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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 Apr 25, 2019 11:22:05 GMT -5
IC Darth Catalyst Hangar bay 4, Korriban Xirr had the good nature to chuckle at Catalyst’s little jab at him. "Lord Catalyst, the acolyte we disciplined nearly a fortnight ago now remains in the med bay and hasn't spoken in days. I believe her days of getting the better of anyone, including the Jedi, are over." Catalyst feigned shock at the thought of the poor power-hungry girl laid up and kept in place by a medical droid with an inhuman supply of anesthetics. Xirr continued, "Shaire is an intriguing possibility, though I worry that her 'good nature' as they say, will get the better of her when it comes down to making split second decisions once our boots are on the ground in Jedi territory. Perhaps we can Holo the cantina and see about mercenary companies or promising acolytes there? If we don't find any there, I suppose the smaller the team the better. Four capable and intelligent sith can perform just as well if not better than an entire battalion of dimwits." Speaking of dimwits, where is Apollyon? Catalyst had a feeling that the Hand had been caught up in something else involving Viscretus. They seemed like they were up to something after walking out of the Emperor’s briefing together. A familiar presence tugged at his senses. Catalyst turned towards the entrance of the Hangar to notice Shaire gasping for breath at its entrance. He broke into a wide grin and spread his arms wide, like a long lost uncle reuniting with an estranged relative. “Why if it isn’t miss Robyn Shaire!” he called across the wide bay. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in centuries! Come, join our little escapade! I promise, Neoplix won’t bite you, he has a chew toy for that!” Catalyst turned back towards the Raider, shooting a sly look at Neoplix for emphasis. “Now this seems like a suitable strike force! Everyone on board! Choose your rooms as you see fit, and we’ll make haste to Yavin IV.” He addressed Xirr again. “I appreciate your idea of reaching out for additional bodies on the way, Lord Xirr. Just for that, I’m appointing you as comms officer while we are in transit! Congratulations on finding something meaningful to do for this mission!” Catalyst leaned in and spoke more quietly. "Also, I may have found a potential apprentice for you my friend. He's a new arrival to the temple, a little hot headed bit I'm sure you can handle him." Catalyst pulled up a hologram on his wristpad, and a rotating Devaronian sprung to life. "His name is Samael, calls himself the Lightbringer. I think you're perfect to show him why darkness is better." He closed the image and pressed a few more buttons. "Plus I've already invited him. He used to be Jedi, so he has the right kind of experience infiltrating them." Catalyst grinned again. "Enjoy your bonding!" Elsewhere, in the dungeons, a comlink chirped. The Master who it belonged to paused leading his class to glance at it. He sighed deep and scanned the class, centering his focus on a dark horned Devaronian. "You, Samael," the professor commanded. "You've been summoned to Hangar 4. Pack your things and meet with Lords Xirr and Catalyst. Now." TAG: dice, gorzan, Padawan4687, taciteoccultus, Darth Dreadwar
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Post by taciteoccultus on Apr 25, 2019 11:32:33 GMT -5
IC: Jekyll/ HydeThe tomb of Dath Cognus, Korriban “ We need to cover both paths so that the spy cannot escape this way. I will head to the east hallway with Jekyll and Renn. Mitth, Nuz'wogan, and Vizuul: you take the west. If anything that isn't one of us moves, you kill it. No questions asked. No mercy. Failure won't be punished by just me, but by your Emperor, too. Be wary of that.” The Dathomirian said. Good only one that needs to be watched. Hyde cracks their knuckles and then replies. " As you say, it will be done. I would rather not meet the Emperor's wrath." Silently she thinks to herself. Until I know I can kill him at least.TAG: darthkain7,Mitthfisto,darthbernael,claiomhsolais,@twiztnbound |
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Post by taciteoccultus on Apr 25, 2019 11:53:27 GMT -5
IC: Samael Hangar Bay 4, Korriban Having heard his summons the young Deveronian responded immediately curious as to why he was summoned. Having nothing to pack he walked into the hangar and bowed before Lords Xirr and Catalyst. "I was requested to be here, what would you like me to do?" Samael asked excitedly, his body exuding heat as he gets more and more excited. TAG: TAG: dice, gorzan, Padawan4687, @darthdreadwar, Darth Catalyst |
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Post by Deleted on Apr 25, 2019 15:59:15 GMT -5
IC: Trill
Location: Sinister Sith Temple, Korriban Trill was certain that she had caught the attention of the beast with her tactics of using the force to give off a way bigger presence than she had. Knowing beast that was attuned to the force often used it to track and hunt their prey; it was a simple deduction to the woman to figure out that she needed to seem like the most delectable meal possible. And when the beast initially took notice of her, she smirked figuring that it wouldn’t be too hard for her to now take down the beast and show that she wasn’t too rusty. However, she wasn’t factoring in the other slaves in her thoughts when she was planning her course of attack. The woman was quite surprised when she saw Volacius unleash a torrent of lightning. That was a pretty hard thing for people to learn back during her time training as a hound so how had this worthless slave learn it so quickly and at such a young age? Watching as the boy’s attack was having an effect, she breathed a sigh of relief before feeling a headache come over her. Reaching up to her forehead to grip near her temples, Trill fell down to one knew before trying to figure out why all of her energy seemed gone at the drop of a dime. Her vision was becoming blurry faster than she could count and it was taking a lot of energy to even stand up straight at that moment. Trying to figure out the cause for her sudden fatigue and sway, Trill looked down and all around her body before finally finding the exact catalyst that was causing all of this. Seeing the open wounds on her side turning green and oozing, the woman had to stifle back the sudden urge to vomit at the sight. She wanted nothing more than to reach down there and try to fix whatever problem she had. But alas, she knew that doing that would make it worse than actually help her at the moment. Closing her eyes hoping that it would counteract the dizziness, Trill was caught off guard when she felt a force push move her slightly back but yet wasn’t strong enough that it took her off her feet. Shrugging the girl’s sudden and rash move out of her mind, Trill fell to the ground as she could feel the poison coursing through her. Immediately getting to work on trying to get the poison out of her system, Trill did her best to scoot away from the ensuing battle so that she could focus on using the force to filter and drain the blood from her stream. Closing her eyes and chanting Rakatan phrases over and over at a voice barely above a whisper, she held her hands clasped together as she focused on creating force bubbles to infiltrate her blood stream though she wasn’t sure how hard or easy it would be. Tag: darthkain7, cliojayne, volacius
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