The Old Sith Trials

Unmitigated pain coursed through Trill's body like lightning, emanating from the wounds on her side and spreading through her veins as she mentally carried the purified water through her bloodstream. However, the malady was entirely worth it. While the poison already had taken some effect on her organs, particularly her liver and kidneys, the intelligent usage of water was quickly flushing the remaining venin in her blood. Within minutes, her head would begin to clear, and within a few hours, her body would continue on as if never being poisoned in the first place.
But she would have neither if she allowed this monster to harm the kilajin that were distracting it.

The Terentatek had hoped to grab the Zabrak in its gargantuan hand, but instead grasped empty air as Trinaya leaped over the beast, her rage imbuing her jump with more force than normal and allowing her to vault over the monster with no more difficulty than playing leapfrog as a child. In a graceful flourish, she had ignited her lightfoil and swiped at the beast's neck while in the air, making contact with the burning-hot plasma.
If it were a true lightsaber, she may have critically injured the Terentatek in a single blow. However, lightfoils were notoriously of weaker cutting power than standard lightsabers due to poorer quality of focusing crystals used in them. And so, the blade struck, but only dug about an inch-deep into the beast's neck. Certainly painful, but not deadly.
Enraged, the Terentatek screamed in agony and swung the back of its hand at the Zabrak, sending her into one of the nearby walls of the Smithy, which surprisingly held firm as she slammed into it. Fortunately for her, the beast's claws had not struck her like they had Trill, but the impact would certainly have been painful to endure.


Malos’ head would snap forward as Volacius spoke the words into his unconscious mind. The Mirialan would immediately remove his hand as Malos awoke, though the Sith Lord would appear quite weary as blood trickled past his left ear; a sign that he had suffered some sort of head trauma.
Still lying at the bridge between consciousness and not, Malos would barely register that the Terentatek was charging at the fallen Zabrak, and would only be able to point in her direction, hoping Volacius could somehow save her.

TAGS: @lordjania , cliojayne , volacius


Zul'tar watched in a mixture of amusement and apprehension as he saw Jekyll and Hyde argue with one another, two voices going back and forth in one body. It was eery, especially with the utter difference between the voices. The man spoke of serenity and peace, like the Jedi that Zul'tar had only heard tales of. The woman spoke of passion and power, like the Sith that Zul'tar had unwittingly become accustomed to.
It seemed that Hyde had taken the reigns of the conversation, demanding that Jekyll shut his mouth, even though they shared it. She seemed Zul'tar fit to decide due to his carrying of the torch.
When Zul'tar turned to get a second, or perhaps third, opinion from Renn, he found only silence and a blank stare. Peculiar. He looked as if he was under some sort of spell…
“Let us head right, then,” Zul'tar grumbled, hating to be the one to make such decisions.
The short trek down the hall was uneventful as before, but thankfully, the door at its ending gave way to a simple push from the Dathomirian. What lied inside would appear like a candy store to those in search of the deepest lores of the Sith. A square room, lined with shelves of dusty books, adjacent to another hall which ended with a ten-meter statue of the Sith Lord who was entombed within this place. The walls were already alight with torches, sparking Zul'tar's paranoia that the spy could still be here.
Unsheathing his axe, Zul'tar crept forward, carrying it in his right hand while keeping the torch high in his left.
Along the northeast wall was a small shelf lined with leather-bound notebooks. Journals, perhaps? To the southwest wall were two larger shelves, each brandishing quite a bit of thick texts that likely delved into Sith history and the like. Then, in the hall leading to the statue, a long shelf lined either side, filled with more texts. However, the most drawing aura in the room had to be the statue.
It was carved with expert craftsmanship, capturing every ounce of beauty while simultaneously showing how fearsome the ancient Iktotchi could be. There was an undeniable darkness possessed in this statue, drawing Zul'tar's eye for a moment. However, he could not let such distractions be the end of him. Spies were a slippery lot, and Zul'tar did not want to be on the receiving end of a dagger in his back.

Meanwhile, things were faring… differently, for Mitth and the others. When he motioned for the others to go right, they seemingly ignored his orders, deciding instead to further examine to stone statues. The Twi'lek girl had decided to brush against one with her hand, hoping to feel the stone out of sheer curiosity.
She could not even react before the sentinel's blade found its way to her belly. The sharpened stone tore through her intestines with a grinding thrust, pushing past her spine and exiting through her back before retreating.
She fell to the ground, blood soaking the blade of the sentinel as the four other statues came to life as well, threatening to do the same to Mitth and Vizuul.

TAGS: taciteoccultus , darthbernael , Mitthfisto , DarthVizuul

~ Battle of Ziost ~ Several hours after the initial insertion

Ziost was a delicate matter… there was confusion on the field.

The forces of Darth Insipid and Helinith and their blood knights having made moves to breach one of the main Ziost temples, were embroiled in their own affairs. Though contact had been lost, after one of the Apprentices with their force had been evacuated due to severe injuries. The status of the push against the temple was unknown. A combination of unseen forces tipping the balance of the field, scattering those forces massed that had been designated for singular purposes of battling over the Citadel.

The second element, smaller in size, a landing party originally led by Lady Vesper had been fractured.The native Ziost forces that had been marshaled and turned by Vesper, had been obliterated in an apparent happenstance security glitch that had allowed the young Omwati Woman to flee. Additionally the Sith Darth Vurik whom had been leading their element at Vesper’s side, had been separated and cut off.

The battle for Ziost was not going to plan at all.

With no defined leadership on the world, outposts of organized forces were isolated as communications had been severed. The makeshift headquarters and military resources brought together had fractured the planet into a chaotic mess. Those that could get off world were doing so civilian and otherwise. The long standing Sith world would not see an end to battle this day. Too many pieces were missing and individuals absent for anything to come of what had been started. It seemed as if the world of Ziost had fought back and won this day.

The rapid deterioration of battle forces on both sides had cause lines and forces to fracture and break. Throughout the Citadel forces were embattled as lines blurred, and with no leadership the force extended beyond the reach of organization. Clusters of smaller battles broke out with no defined forces, as units began firing on their own by mistake in the confusion of battle, whole units walked by enemy forces without recognition and alertness.

A myriad of forces had driven Vesper away from the main battle, if it could still be called such. Finding herself on a far side of the Citadel, nowhere near the original landing site and shuttle. Their original objective of reinforcing the main element had failed, which made her secondary task nearly impossible now. A voice came over her comm-link, “Lady Vesper?”

“Lady Vesper, are you there?” It was the voice of one of the pilots of the Upsilon class shuttle that had brought them in. “We are taking fire, the battle is out of control… I have no contact with any of the main force.”

“Lady Vesper come in?”

Vesper

Combo with Dreadwar

IC: Darth Viscretus and Erastus Sallacine
Viscretus’ Shuttle, En-Route to Yavin

Apollyon had lost the brief confrontation. Viscretus could tell that much, without needing to grace her mind with even the lightest touch.

Her decision had been made.

She would no longer keep her friend from her indulgence with the acolyte whose very presence disgusted her, even though she was rather shocked she’d entertain such an offer. Her initial reaction had been far more expected.

She did not even move, prodding through the Force for the only-vaguely familiar signature of the piloting crewman. Her mind collided with his, planting a message beneath the bone, in the spongy tissue that gave him thought. //We will revert to Yavin, where Lady Apollyon will depart. I trust you will bring us there post-haste - just over two hours is what it ought to be.//

“Well, then,” She continued as if nothing had even happened, bringing her knee back to standing and pressing her lacquered thumb to the pad by her door. It slid open, revealing her well decorated suite. “The Federation is not to be trifled with. We must continue the briefing regardless.”

Away from prying ears, was the silent implication that slithered through the Force. “If you would,” she motioned with a hand inside, sweeping towards the seating and console on the farthest wall.

Erastus did as she asked, entering her suite and sitting down on the nearest couch there. "So, what do we need to discuss?" he sighed.

Viscretus came in to the room behind him. He had chosen the couch, so she would take the chair...for now. She approached with a saunter, explaining as she did.

“I have a vault, unknown to the Federation. Beneath my old palace. I need access to it for more than one reason. The most important being the prophecy. You would know many of my agents came from the Ascendancy, including my Grand Vizier.”

She didn’t take her own seat, however, instead taking a leisurely sortie past him to a set of pale wooden cabinets. On the wall beside it, a bookshelf entirely with parchment books and artefacts. But she had no interest in those, for the cabinet she opened was filled with beverages. She continued to speak as she rummaged through.

“Which means I have access to records, along with countless hundreds of catalogued artifacts. My issues are logistical, and technical. Our passing through planetary security will be far easier without Apollyon, only my signature to conceal. I anticipated the need for stratagems and further intellect, thus my interest in her. But we will make do.”

She had plucked three bottles and placed them beside two glasses, on a fold-down ledge. She poured herself a glass of blossomwine, taking it with her as she navigated around the furniture.

“I do not, however, have the encyclopedic knowledge of Sith history I presume I will need. Nor do I understand the cataloguing system well. These were vastly not collected by myself, but the Imperial Reclamation Service.”

She sat across from him, as though she were the Empress once more, crossing her legs and sipping elegantly. Her voice lowered, gaining a slight husk from the wine.

“I’m sure you can see now why having you accompany me on this voyage satisfies my desires.”

Her head turned abruptly, to the set of bottles waiting on the shelf. Her glass went to the arm of the chair, rings clinking against the thin stem.

“Corellian or Whyren’s Reserve? Or perhaps a different genre?” She offered a smile and rose the third bottle up with a motion of her hand. A deep green glass, with gilded floral label. “My personal choice, a vintage blossomwine.”

"Interesting," Erastus said. "I can see why I would help you with my experience in the Reclamation Service. We are masters at sneaking into underground vaults to hunt obscure prophecies, after all." He chuckled. "Right at the top of my résumé."

As for the drinks... "Blossomwine, please," he said, smiling as he reached out for the bottle. He didn't need a glass; the ancient Sith purebloods drank out of bottles of the same glass from which shikkar daggers were made, and to him, that was more cultured.

“Indeed. You see understand far better than Apollyon, and her rash judgments.”

Viscretus smiled in return, the bottle floated away from his reaching hand and poured into a glass. The glass approached his hand, sloshing gently, as if the liquid hitting crystal whispered denial. But while he was spurned from that tall, slender, elegant bottle, it was no loss. The glass he had been given was near brimming, and Viscretus, poised as that bottle was, studied him still.

“What do you know of the palace, and of Dantooine? I have thorough information, datapads at the ready, but it does not match with firsthand experience.” She paused for a moment, thoughtfully, judging his attire and posture before making final assumptions. “And, you are of the House Sallacine, yes? Not of some distant, watered down relation?”

Erastus repressed a sigh. I really wanted that bottle. Nonetheless, the glass would suffice for now, and he took a long sip. The taste was strangely floral, almost too much for something that you were meant to imbibe, but the sweetness was pleasant, disguising the burn of the alcohol.

"I am of the House of Sallacine, yes, milady," Erastus said, at last. "I do not know much about Dantooine, save that there used to be a Jedi Enclave there long ago, before the Sith of Darth Malak bombed it into ruin. If we are looking for a Chiss named Mitth'res'pheie, and we are going to Dantooine because the New Galactic Empire," he tilted his head meaningfully toward her, refusing to say "your previous Empire" out loud, "employed Chiss spies on Dantooine, then it occurs to me that they may be buried deep in the planet. Flushing them out will be difficult."

“I see no difficulty in it,” she said. Quite assuredly. He would not know of her tenuous links to the greater Galaxy. Not one of them did - and for now she intended to keep it that way. It was ammunition against her that none of the Sith needed. And, if her tenuous links did not hold in her time of need, there was always her knowledge to guide them. Any Empire allied agent worth their weight would be aware of protocols instated only four years prior. She adjusted her posture, brushing the curls back from her bare shoulders.

“The difficulty will then be having them believe our cover story long enough to disappear the same from their eyes. Your heritage gives us opportunity to craft something convincing. An envoy of the House, accompanied by Imperial Knights.”

She frowned slightly, a thought occurring to her, and took a drink of the floral wine. Though he seemed rather rule-abiding and equanimous, she could not be sure he had always been so. “You have not burned any proverbial bridges?”

"With House Sallacine?" Erastus snorted a laugh, before schooling his expression into one of respectful seriousness. "Apologies, milady, but you might have noticed I am the only Sallacine in the Sith. It's fair to say they didn't take well to my archaeological interests leading away from the Senate, to Korriban..."

“I doubt any of the Core openly would in the current climate. Most didn’t take kindly to the Sith under my banner, you might recall. Though there were exceptions, and most did come around when they realized Sith were far better allies than Jedi.”

She took a deep drink, breaking her musing, then refilling the glass as she spoke.

“You aren’t the only Sith-allied Sallacine, if we consider those days. They merely put on their show for whoever gives them their credits and power. As long as you have at least some connection left, even tenuous, there will be no issue.”

“From there it is entirely straightforward. Ideally, we will have access to the palatial grounds. There is a rather easily accessible entrance outside. Alternatively, there is access from the inside. Even if we don’t have immediate access, we can gain it easily. There are private transports everywhere. And we are Sith, after all.”

“And, we disguise the acolytes the same before our arrival. I have passable armour, and I believe, spare crystals. Somewhere. No doubt they all chose that blaring red blade. We can inform them of their roles after our diversion to Yavin.”

She drank again, nearly draining the glass, a sultry smile with molten eyes shining above the gilded rim. It floated back to the ornate drop-leaf and settled there, the dregs of the wine settling with a shimmer.

“Speaking of diversions.”

She rose, then paused, her hands smoothing her dress from waist to hip. At last, she stepped forward.

She leaned over him to where his glass sat. From a direction that, while seemingly entirely out of her way, gave her ample opportunity to be within inches of him.

Entirely purposefully, slowly, she pulled back with the glass in hand. She took the seat beside him - crossing her legs, the toe of her heel brushing against his. She drained the glass easily, setting it aside on the console, parted lips glistening with floral wine.

“Deepest apologies. I could not let it go to waste.”

"Of course," he said, nodding. "But what about our strategy after we gain access to the palace? I... I'm just not seeing how all of this leads to this Mitth'res'pheie character." He shrugged. "Who even is he? Why... Why does this ancient prophecy mention a Chiss? Why do we think he lives now?"

He shook his head, as if hoping the motion would dislodge some thought, some sudden realisation from the cobwebs of his skull. "I just don't see how this isn't a wild bantha chase."

She sighed. Obviously he had missed her segue. Or he was intentionally acting as if he had. Irritation pricked at her neck for a moment, but she exhaled it away.

“I’m certain that given my previous orders for the IRS, that there will be at least something that links to the theory or him specifically. I won’t know anything until we are there. I cannot access the database remotely and risk losing it all.”

Her tone grew dreary by the end. It was a simple plan. Either they would find a clue, or they would be exactly where they started. There was no inbetween. She knew nothing more than he or Apollyon did, currently, and she would not know more until she had a chance to investigate her archives.

She was wholly dissatisfied with talking in circles. There were other things on her mind.

“In the off chance we find nothing to solve our prophecy, it is an archive spanning prehistory to the modern day. Only a handful of people have ever known its location. Millennia worth of history - Sith, Jedi, beyond - preserved and unscathed. Chronicled in databases.”

She perched herself closer, her voice lowering. Her hand crept to his shoulder, running along the fabric there. “Any way you look at it, our mission has its perks.”

"Yes, yes," Erastus said, his Coruscanti accent growing stronger - and posher - as he turned to look at her. "Quite so." As slow as he'd been on the uptake, the shift in the atmosphere in the suite was significant enough for even Erastus to notice. He glanced down at her lips, briefly, noticing the glisten of the wine upon them, before his eyes darted to hers, looking into those golden pools.

"Ah, I had best go see how my lady Apollyon is faring," he said, awkwardly.

“She is fine,” Viscretus replied, frowning slightly. Only enough to signal mild dissatisfaction, her eyes still glimmering with coquettish embers. “We’d be the first to know if she weren’t.”

She stopped. For a moment, she considered him - what lie beyond those stormy blue eyes. Replaying his words. Dipping into the churning pool of his thoughts and reservations. But there was no blaring alarm of discomfort in his mind, no sharp urge to recoil from her touch. He was merely attempting to maintain a tenuous hold on professionalism. She did not smirk, but there was the urge to. Self satisfaction bubbled up, leading her to lean in further.

And then, she shifted, as if she were going to stand, instead turning and draping herself across his lap. Her tone dripped with nectar, the same as her lips. “We have near two hours before we so much as enter the system. Plenty of time for a bit of rest and relaxation.”

TAG: Darth Dreadwar , darthvoxyn , @lordjania , Darth Voidwalker
TAGSET: Dantooine

IC: Darth Feros
Still in a Bad Way
Corbos


Feros hadn't quite went where he wanted. He'd a mind to run down the things throat, spinning like a toy top. But the beast had moved. So Feros had drilled into its tail. And then, with a flick, he was airborne again.

Corvar was flying too. The Beast was screaming like some assaulted mother protecting her child. It felt like Reaper was on the creature's back now. Everything was shifting. Kinetic in the most active kind of way. Feros would have relished in it if he hadn't been so worried. He was flying over the thing's mouth, still holding the Jedi Sword. And then the screams pieced his skull. And Corvar's. A battle meld was almost like a marriage. Everything was shared. So the pain wasn't quite as bad as it could have been.

A split second isn't enough time to weigh many options. Much less under extreme duress. All he wanted to do was throw something at the monster. And that's when it dawned on him. He reached out to Corvar and gave him an impression to push. To guide and reinforce. He gathered his breath and screamed to Reaper, "Reaper, pull!." The flames would do nothing to it.

Feros lifted the sword over his head and hurled it towards the beasts open maw.

As the sword flew, Feros reached out to a rock outcropping near him and tried to pull himself to it, just in case.

Darth Catalyst darthkain7 trentongordon

Pain coursed through the Sith Lord's skull, throbbing at the source of his agony. He pressed two fingers against the wound on his forehead, causing more pain. He relished it now, however, that his conscious mind was returning to its natural state. His index and middle fingertips were covered with his own blood, but it mattered not; it was far from a life-threatening injury.
Standing from the ground, Malos watched in silent awe as Trill leaped halfway across the field, Forcesaber and lightsaber in hand as she detached the Terentatek's right hand, its beefy fingers and gargantuan claws collapsing to the stone floor, unmoving.
Not even half a second later, Malos watched as Volacius too charged the behemoth, blades extended as he struck for both of its legs as its back was still turned towards him. While its legs were still quite too thick to be severed in one blow, his blow was still nearly as effective. His blades dug deep, the plasma tearing into the rear of the beast's knees, cutting nearly halfway through before the Terentatek reacted, spinning with its one remaining hand and knocking Volacius aside, roaring in agony as its chances of survival had been drastically reduced within a mere moment.

Malos was done watching.

He had noticed a cut at the back of the beast's neck, and he quickly formed a plan on how to finish this monster. Turning to Trill as he ignited the orange blade of his lightsaber, he shouted, “Get its back to u-- er, me! I have an idea.” He finished the last word with a sadistic grin, the mere thought of his plan succeeding bringing him a, for-once understandable, amount of joy.

TAGS: volacius , @lordjania , cliojayne



Any searches for life in the archives of the tomb had not borne any fruit, whether it be from Jekyll's scanning for life forces or Zul'tar's wary eyes. All they would find we're what they had seen before; books upon books, and the statue of Darth Cognus.
The darkness it had radiated apparently drew the silent Renn towards it, causing the shapeshifter to examine it closer. He rubbed his fingers along the stone base of the statue, causing a hiss to erupt as a small compartment opened.
Zul'tar, only noticing the fool's mistake a moment too late, watched in horror as a poison cloud was sprayed directly into Renn's face. The Neti collapsed to the ground, convulsing as his malformed face began to burn away, rotting like decaying flesh if sped by a thousand years. Quickly, the cloud dispersed, and there lied Renn, lifeless.
“Godsdamnit,” Zul'tar muttered, gripping his axe tightly as he approached the Neti's corpse, pulling a cloth to shield his mouth and nose in case the poison still lingered regardless.
It was then that he noticed what lied within the compartment that Renn had discovered.
Zul'tar withdrew the object, holding it to his eye as he realized that this was the darkness he had sensed. It was a small pyramid, forged of obsidian and glowing an unnatural crimson. He had heard of these objects, mostly through the feverish clamoring of acolytes who wished to find one.

A Sith holocron.

Mitth was in a bad spot, one of his companions dead and five angry stone sentinels enclosing on him and Vizuul. He had moved to the hallway that they had come from, however, which was a smart move. It left him plenty of room to retreat, while funneling the sentinels towards him. Vizuul was not so quick, however. He had not even drawn his lightsaber before a sentinel cut him down, the stone blade ripping across his chest and releasing a fountain of blood that sprayed onto the stone guardians.
Unmoved by Mitth's words, the sentinels pressed forward, forced to come at him only two at a time by the narrow walls of the hallway. Not perfectly coordinated, the guardians attacked at different angles, but not ones that would make it impossible for the T'landa Til to counter. The one on the left thrust forward, hoping to strike the center of Mitth's chest while the other struck low, swiping its blade for Mitth's front-right leg.

TAGS: taciteoccultus , Mitthfisto , DarthVizuul , darthbernael




Abaddon had never been in space without the confines of a ship protecting her from the lack of gravity and air outside. However, she had a inkling this would be exactly how such an experience would feel. There was no ground, she did not hear a sound, she smell nothing… she could not even tell what temperature she was floating in. It was simply an endless sea of gold as far as she could see, with no doors or other obvious means of escape visible.
Her mind raced with thoughts and emotions at what felt like the speed of light, making her head ache within seconds. Rage at the Lorekeeper for doing this, at herself for letting him do this. Hope that she could escape, the hopelessness of her surroundings. Where was she? How long had she been here? Could her sister save her? Could anyone?

“Hello!?” she shouted, her voice echoing across the expanse of this limbo she found herself within. “Can anyone hear me!?”

TAGS: Darth Cruor , darthbernael , corinthia

IC: Trin

Location- Sinister Sith Temple, Korriban



Trin lay crumpled against the wall, fading in and out of consciousness. She felt bruised from head to toe and could barely move. She had to move or die, though, didn't she? Finding that out meant opening her eyes, but even that hurt. Maybe it might be better to die.

That thought brought her to full consciousness as nothing else had. Was she a foolish little noble girl or was she a Sith Acolyte?! Embracing the pain, Trin let herself each aching drop of it. A few broken ribs and a concussion bad enough that she couldn't tell how bad it was seemed to be the worst of her injuries, but the rest of her certainly didn't feel great.

Breathing deeply and focusing herself with the pain that wracked her body Trin forced her blue eyes open. It was hard to make sense of what she was watching. Trill was… flying? The soaring woman became two as Trin's eyes slid out of focus. She realized that her hearing seemed to be "out of focus" as well. Events, like for example Volacius apparently slide tackling his way under the Terentatek and hacking at his legs, appeared double in her vision but delayed in her hearing.

The lights of the sabers, the roars of the Terentatek, and the increased spinning in her head made Trin's hold on her anger lessen ever so slightly. It was just enough for the blackness to begin descending once more.

The last thing she saw and heard before passing out again was two Darth Malos' urging Volacius and Trill to get the beasts back to him. As she fell into darkness Trin had an odd though- had he almost said “Us”? Was that a slip of some kind? A side effect of his own head injury? Or something more sinister perhaps….


Tags: darthkain7 , @queenjunko, volacius
Tagset: Sinister Sith

IC: Voidwalker
Lamba-class Imperial shuttle, en route to Dantooine

"No, thank you," I only drink at feasts." The words of Apollyon stung, as she turned on her heel away from Voidwalker and everyone else for that matter. The slightly drunken acolyte was now even more confused, all he’d done was try to be friendly and offer the lady a drink. At least that was his hopes. Truthfully, he didn’t want the two ladies to kill everyone on board the shuttle while trying to kill one another. The moment must have passed quicker than Voidwalker realized, because Apollyon had quickly turned back to face Voidwalker. Her look no long one of anger, but she actually wore a smile on her face.

"Fine, Keep Erastus. Drop me off at Yavin. I'll reconvene with our Emperor later. Although, I cannot guarantee Erastus' survival, for defying the Emperor's orders, when next we all meet. And I think I'll have that drink after all, Acolyte Voidwalker."

“Excellent! I’ll be right back, allow me to get you a glass.” Voidwalker quickly made his way back into the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets searching for two clean glasses. Luckily he found exactly what he was looking for fairly quickly. Returning with the two glasses, and bottle still in hand, Voidwalker was surprised to find Apollyon alone. It seemed that Viscretus and the pretty boy had already vacated to somewhere more private for themselves.

“My apologies for keeping you waiting. I honestly didn’t think you would accept my offer, so needless to say I was ill prepared. Plus you deserve to be shown respect, I wouldn’t dare expect you to just drink from a bottle. Allow me to pour you a glass.”

Holding both glasses by the bottom, Voidwalker filled them up with the brandy that he had already been taking part in enjoying. He had the poise of a bartender the way he held the glasses and pour the liquor without spilling a drop. Handing Apollyon her glass, Voidwalker looked upon the caramel skinned woman, there had to be more to her. She was good looking, and clearly she was dangerous. That much was obviously from the exchange between her and Viscretus. But still, there was something more. Almost as if she was longing for something, or someone. Voidwalker quickly just assumed that it was better to not pry, it wasn’t any of his business.

“As I said, I didn’t honestly expect you to accept my offer of a drink, but I’m glad you did.” Voidwalker offered her a smile of sincerity. “There’s obvious tensions between you and Viscretus, my guess is that it has something to do with Erastus from the way you spoke earlier. But that’s not the point of my offer. My reasoning was to help you calm down and relax. Besides, if you are planning on departing us once we reach Yavin, then we should celebrate the time you’re here. So with that said, would you like to go somewhere else on the ship, or should we stay right here?”

TAG: Darth Dreadwar Volshe @lordjania darthvoxyn

In spite of its wounds, the force of the Terentatek’s blow was nothing if not brutal. The force of the impact alone had been enough to break several bones, And as Volacius was flung backward he found it extremely difficult to right himself before falling into further injuries. His attempts to land safely were only somewhat successful, as his left leg gave out under the enormous pressure he’d subjected it to. The Mirialan fell on his back, another jolt of pain surging through his spine as he came to rest. In spite of the near-agony he found himself in, he knew it could have been far worse. Volacius briefly checked himself, ensuring that he had not fallen victim to the creature’s venomous claws as Trill had. Next, Volacius took a mental note of each of the major injuries he could detect. He knew for certain that he had at least two broken ribs, as well as a severely bruised collarbone; there was a significant pain in the Mirialan’s upper left arm right below the shoulder, but his limited medical knowledge would be of no help identifying its full extent. Additionally, He had suffered multiple serious contusions across both his legs, but his left leg in particular. Explains the fall, Volacius thought to himself.

As he finished his inventory, the Mirialan heard the sound of Malos’ voice calling for Trill to attract the beast’s attention away from him so that it’s back would be exposed. Volacius wasn’t certain what the deranged Sith Lord had in mind, but he knew it was likely their best bet at survival. The Terentatek was battered, but to assume that they had the upper hand against such a creature would be foolish. Physically weakened, Volacius wasn’t confident he would be able to re-engage with his Lightsabers, but as he considered his options he remembered that that wasn’t how he’d caught the monster’s eye the first time.

Volacius began charging up yet another volley of Lightning, tiny sparks crackling between his fingertips as he built up the necessary energy. It was far more difficult than the last time, and the Mirialan realized it was probably due to his injuries. The pain he was enduring was both distracting and draining him, and if he wanted to be of use to his comrades, he would have to find some way of overcoming it. Shifting his focus, Volacius began attempting to channel his pain into energy, sinking into it and allowing it to grow into pure anguish. It was a draining process, and Volacius could feel that if he let the pain go too far, it would overwhelm him, but the results appeared to be worthwhile. Yet another volley of electricity sprung from his hands, the true extent of which he could not determine, headed straight toward the beast. The hit from earlier had put some distance between the Mirialan and the Terentatek, but regardless of this Volacius knew he might not have enough energy left to evade his adversary if Malos’ plan failed. He could only hope it would not.


darthkain7, @lordjania, cliojayne

IC: Jekyll/Hyde
Location: The Tomb of Darth Cognus, Korriban

The Shapeshifter was dead. Hyde laughed, while Jekyll mourned their death only for a moment before he accepted that they became one with the Force. The Dathomirian seemed to find a holocron.
"Do you think the holocron is connected to this witch?" Hyde asked while motioning to the statue. "Either way I doubt the spy would have been the one to leave it, so it's no concern to the mission at least. However it is still a pretty good find. Hopefully it's not about history, I have to deal with enough of that as it is."

TAG: Mitthfisto,darthkain7,DarthVizuul,darthbernael

IC The Leviathan
Abandoned mines, Corbos 


A cacophonous mixture of flame and screams continued to erupt from the Leviathan’s maw as the trio of darksiders continued their attacks. A wave of extoplasmic pus spilled around Corvar as he drove his blade deep into another one of the blisters on the creatures back. His slide wouldn’t go far though, as the tough hide of the beast prevented the lightsaber from cutting cleanly to the next blister.



But at least he was no longer airborne.



Reaper was not far away, also having just burst a blister. He shoved his hand deep into the disgusting mixture of pus and blood and soulstuff. Power surged through Reaper’s arm and into the open wound of the Leviathan. The creature thrashed wildly about as it roared in pain, trying to throw the stinging insects from its back.



It’s mouth was wide open as Feros hurled the sword towards it. The supernaturally sharp blade sailed through the air as the Sith Apprentice flew back on a grappling hook of the Force. The sword soon disappeared into the fire within the gullet of the Leviathan. It emerged white hot from the flesh behind the beast’s neck, sticking out like some perverse horn. The Leviathan roared once again, more strained than before and less painful to those who heard it, and its legs seemed to buckle beneath it. Its footing slipped and it scrambled to hold its place above the chasm. Its strength was weakening though. It was going to fall, and it threatened to take Reaper, Corvar and the Jedi Sword with it.

TAG:darthferos ,darthkain7 ,trentongordon