Volshe
Administrator 
.: Empress
Posts: 229
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Post by Volshe on May 21, 2019 2:01:42 GMT -5
IC: Xenot the Nightbringer
Shuttle from Syned
Ria sat down in the pilot’s seat at last, her helmet tossed onto the chair beside her. She huffed. Tulan simply peered down at the seat, now occupied by the silver dome. It took a moment for Ria to notice - she was busy engaging basic systems and warming up the engines, as well as muttering to herself about the trek they’d endured. “Ria,” he said. She turned. “Oh, shavit. Sorry,” she replied, scrambling to pick it up. She spun in her chair, and instead put it on the navigator’s chair behind her. They didn’t have the bodies anyway - Xenot was hardly capable of flying such a modern ship. But, they wouldn’t need it. The Progenitor was just beyond orbit, in the system above. A quick hop to space, and a skip over to its hangars. “Are you ready?” She asked. Tulan nodded once. She exhaled, still enjoying the usually-stale-open air of the cockpit after two hours spent trekking on just suit air from millennia old recyclers. And then she fired up the engines, the ship whirring beneath them - like a nexu’s purr. Xenot was not in the cockpit, nor anywhere near it. He sat in a firm plastoid chair, staring out a tiny viewport. His eyes narrowed as the ship began to shudder from the ridge, snow and ice falling away as it lifted away from where it was nestled. It did not help him see. Visibility was extremely low, and the time of day meant the sun was shining off the glacial surface and obscuring any shadow the starship might have left. His hand scratched at his cheek. He still did not know where they were going, but that was a result of the two of them not knowing where they were going. They suggested Dantooine, or Rhen Var, but their uncertainty was obvious as they flipped through fifteen other systems on top of it. At last Xenot suggested returning to Serenno, and they shrugged, agreed it might work, and then continued their trek chattering between themselves. He hadn’t minded. He wasn’t one for conversation with strangers. Too many secrets, too many politics to abide by. He hoisted his bag onto the table, unclasping it and pulling his book from the depths of the pouch. He watched for another second as the ship continued to ascend, then turned his attention to the worn pages and columns of notes in Sith along the margins. ~~~~~~~ The shuttle settled in the hangar with no fanfare. Despite the fact it was a Star Destroyer, there was essentially no crew. Tulan and Ria brought the Hamadryas and his limited belongings to some officer’s quarters, but they passed maybe three or four others on the few minute walk. An Imperial Knight, a couple of officers… “Your Empire. It is sparse,” Xenot commented, setting down his things - his sword not managing to fit in any cupboard or on any surface. He leaned it against the durasteel wall. “Few of you.” “For right now, it is,” Ria replied, setting down his only other bag, “Most of us are in hiding, or undercover. They think this ship is an ambassadorial ship for a Pantoran family.” She leaned against the desk. “The nearest fleet right now that wouldn’t just shoot us out of the stars is probably around there.” Xenot just nodded. He did not wish any more information, now. His old bones ached and his mind wished to burn off what little energy he had left. Once they’d left he fully intended to seek out a training room - or a makeshift one. “We’ll be going then, to the bridge.” Ria said, hands on her thighs as she hoisted herself up. “Here.” She put a comm on the desk. “We’re probably heading to Serenno again, if the Admiral still says it’s alright. Call us if you have problems or get lost or anything. Blue button, three times, then the second yellow one. I’ll keep you posted.” Tulan was already out the door. She followed behind. TAG: no one SIDE STORY: Xenot the Nightbringer --
Combo(-ish) with Dreadwar
IC: Darth Viscretus, Erastus, and Qvorm
Viscretus’ shuttle, en route to somewhere, likely Yavin. Hopefully Yavin. "Entirely too much time," Erastus said, immediately regretting his choice of words. It makes me sound like I'm telling a self-deprecating joke about my... He imperceptibly shook his head, banishing the thought - Sith Ladies could read minds, after all - and looked up at her. Her hair, usually golden like the dawn, now seemed dark, silhouetted against the stark halogens of the shuttle. She smelled like blossomwine. Blossomwine and sin. The nectar was alluring. But nerves stayed his hand; he dared not even place it on the small of her back. They had slept together only once, and when they had done so the Emperor had manifested before them. He dared not move a muscle, now. Could the Emperor's spirit pierce even hyperspace? These thoughts whirling in his head, Erastus managed to say very little. "R&R sounds very good," he said, lamely. “The Emperor is not invited,” she said, reading his thought as it occurred. Her answer was an accented purr, but with a softer edge. That of reassurance. Her hand pulled his to her thigh, where the luscious fabric split, and then fluttered to his cheek. “Only you, the pretty assistant.” What he heard next were not words, but thoughts spun with shimmering, ethereal thread. An urging to cease his hesitation, to relinquish his worry. A further wave of reassurance that he was in no danger, warm as tropical sea, lapping at his mind. Erastus melted into her embrace, awash in the currents of her gentle attempts at suasion. His anxiety faded, swept away by warmth. That warmth swiftly turned to fire, as his hand dared - in a spurt of Force-amplified confidence, like a drunken man - to creep up her thigh, parting the silken fabric before it. He leaned in, lips seeking her own. Threads of warm ember wove from her lips to her chest, bidding her smouldering desire to flare. She returned the kiss, shifting even closer to him. Her hands wrapped around his neck as she deepened the kiss. The Force aided her, despite the distraction, letting the shimmering golden lace cape fall away with a ethereal touch upon the golden fasteners. It tumbled to the floor. Colour rose to her cheeks as she broke away, regarding him. His deep auburn hair, his pale eyes, his pristine uniform over well-toned chest. She hesitated for a moment. Breath and the hum of hyperspace were the only sound. She was uncertain if she wished to proceed when the moment could be savoured later. But his expression at her revelation mere hours before, his reaction to her gown, both flickered in her mind’s eye. He was captivated. Even now, his thoughts were indulgent ribbon wrapped around her finger. There would be more than enough time ahead. She inhaled, conifer and sweet zwil, melding with pheromones and her own floral, alcoholic scent. Her lips dipped for his again, one hand wandering over the smooth gabardine, inch by inch, to the clasps at his shoulder. ~~~~~~~~~ There was a knock. Viscretus’ head rose from Erastus’ chest, twined together beneath the luscious plum covers. Qvorm tapped his foot outside. He had gotten distracted by the four types of caf the shuttle had - four! - and perhaps had indulged in a couple tastes. He might’ve played a round of dejarik solo, too. Or three. But he had still scoured the entire shuttle, and now this was the last place this woman could be. Sith woman. Sith Lady, he corrected himself, slightly worried the vivid glowing of the lights, so strong he could hear their buzz, meant she had already somehow invaded his head just as he knocked. He gulped. But she had not. She cared not at all about whichever acolyte was attempting to get her attention. It wasn't Apollyon. She was detectable. But if it was important, they would have made it known. She would perhaps ignore them regardless, but at least she would consider their request. Her eyes shut, arm reaching across Erastus’ waist. A satisfied sigh left her. Qvorm knocked again, timidly. Was she even in there? Did she even exist? He could certainly feel a powerful darkness, a nauseating sort of clammy warmth that snuck up his neck. But then, he had felt that everywhere on Korriban. And that stamp guy had asked him to figure it out. He didn’t know what rank he was, but he had a uniform. A uniform meant he could get killed. He realised suddenly, he should have shown more respect for the pilot. He’d probably get punished for that when they arrived, too. Hopefully not killed. But everything meant he could get killed. He frowned, his eyes wide with a fearful contemplation. That was the Sith. He should’ve joined the Ascendancy forces. He could’ve been exploring. The panel beside the door blinked red, then blue, indicating it was locked. He needed to ask her! She was the boss, and the pilot had asked him. He needed to know her answer. He realized then that he still had one skill. One that had only come in handy on Csilla. Slicing. He fumbled with the pack around his waist, producing a spike, and jamming it into the door panel. A tiny shock arced to his hand. He winced, hissing in a breath, then continued wiggling it in the port. Three short beeps sounded, then a fourth. Security protocol for a reset. He pressed several buttons on the panel, the beeps sounding again. He repeated the process, adding three more presses. And then the door slid open. He gawked for a moment. There was not even the chance to feel fear. Viscretus’ hand shot up, his eyes going entirely black - the air knocked out of him as he flew into the opposite wall. The door shut a split second later. “You-...grotthu!” she sat bolt upright, maintaining the mental obstruction of his vision. “You absolute shaak. How did you enter past the security protocols?” He shook rather violently, adrenaline now mixed with the utter overindulgence of caf. He flung himself forward, forehead to the ground. “I hacked it, my Lady!” “You petulant fool,” she hissed, rising and pulling a robe on with haste. Erastus, unaware of her use of the Force to blind the Chiss, hid up to his chin beneath the covers. “For what reason? Does your stupidity have no bounds?” “I needed to ask a question!” “What question?” She did not even give him moment to breathe. “Speak!” “To know where we needed to stop next,” he replied, cowering blindly, “The pilot didn’t know, he sent me!” Viscretus shook her head, a sardonic smirk of disbelief crossing her face. “Yavin. I told him Yavin.” She did not even move, but commanded his body to stand. He rose, sputtering, coughing, his memory faltering. For a moment, he forgot his name, his face - and then, the world shifted into view outside her doors, leaving him with vaguest memory of a conversation and answer...but a mysterious crippling ache in his ribs. He remembered none of what had just occurred in such rapid succession. Viscretus plucked the spike from the useless panel, reprogramming it and augmenting the doors with a touch of the Force - indulging in blossomwine before returning to her rather hedonistic lounging - now, with the bottle and glass in hand. Gods knew she needed it. She’d have to skin all of them personally on Dantooine. Killing him then would have lost them a meat shield - and stained her floors. Qvorm wandered back to the cockpit, blood trickling from a split lip, sitting back down beside Erik in the daze of mind invasion. “We are going to Yavin,” he replied, giving him a slow thumbs up. TAG: darthvoxyn, Darth Dreadwar, Darth Voidwalker, @lordjania,TAGSET: Dantooine
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Post by darthkain7 on May 21, 2019 2:19:18 GMT -5
IC: Darth Malos Sinister Sith Temple, Korriban Trinaya had been thoroughly incapacitated by the beast, Malos feared. He felt a surge of anger swelling within her chest, ready to burst. However, she let some sense of uncertainty cloud her ability to draw on that rage, preventing her from escaping the claws of unconsciousness once again. Thankfully for her, the Terentatek seemed entirely unconcerned about her, and with good reason. Volacius, though nearly as hurt as Trinaya was, was able to draw on the fury that was a side effect of said injuries. That power manifested into pure electricity, as it had before, only now he used his pain to influence the amount of damage the arcing bolts would dish out. With many open wounds, and the voltage of Volacius’ lightning amplified, the monster roared in terrorizing agony. Sluggish, now that its legs had nearly been severed, it moved ever so slowly towards the living battery that the Mirialan had become, hoping to use its last good set of claws to rip apart the being who was hurting it so very much. It never got the chance. In a blinding flash of light, Trill had soared over the behemoth, spinning and carving even deeper into the wound laid there by Trin just moments before. Her blades cut far, digging into the beast's neck and severing the spinal cord. Groaning in pure shock, the Terentatek fell to its knees, its body unresponsive. Malos shrugged. It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it worked nonetheless. Deactivating his saber as quickly as he ignited it, he hooked it to his belt before reaching out with the Force. Invisible hands grasped either side of the massive wound in the Terentatek's neck, pulling apart with a sickening snap. It took quite a bit of effort, as even now its hide still resisted such physical force, but Malos pushed through. Or, more accurately, he pulled. The usage of telekinesis ripped what was left of the monster's head off of its rather large body, sending the head flying into the ruins of the Smithy, and leaving the body to finally fall to the ground lifeless. The Terentatek was dead. And as the Sith finally had a moment to breathe, they would realize that night had come to this side of Korriban. TAGS: @lordjania , volacius , cliojayne TAGSET: Sinister Sith ___________________________________ IC: Zul'tar The Tomb of Darth Cognus, Korriban “Do you think the holocron is connected to this witch?” the female voice asked, the male body pointing to the statue of Cognus. Zul'tar shrugged, admiring the dark artifact a moment more before sliding it into his pouch. Hyde went on. "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." Zul'tar turned towards the being, one of the last alive in this cursed tomb. He seemed impatient. Perhaps it was Hyde's laugh at the shapeshifter's demise, or maybe it was being in such close proximity to a Sith holocron. Either way, the old warrior seemed tired of just ignoring the obvious conflict within this young man's body. “Before we go further, I want to know what in the name of the Fanged God is going on with you… two,” Zul'tar spoke, his voice low but loud all the same. “I stare into the eyes of a boy whose heart is good, only to find the stare of a woman who wants nothing but darkness. What are you?”Meanwhile, the T'landa Til had proven an effective user of Makashi, deflecting the attacks of the sentinels and sending their blades into the right wall. He then pressed forward, using the momentum to sever their stone hands and then do the same to their heads, decapitating the first two sentinels and causing their forms to crumble into equal piles of dust, along with their blades. Yet, before he could prepare for the next pair of stone soldiers, he felt something odd in his head. He felt light, as if his massive weight had disappeared in a single instant, allowing him to float towards the ceiling. Looking down, he hoped to see the floor, so that he could lose this bout of strange nausea that had come over him. Instead, he saw his own body. He watched helplessly as the sentinels proceeded onward, cutting past the T'landa Til's defenses. The scene, plus the meeting of his consciousness and the ceiling, caused darkness to wash over Mitth's third eye. The world went dark, and silent. TAGS: taciteoccultus , Mitthfisto TAGSET: Tomb of Cognus ___________________________________ IC: Darth Kain Abandoned Mines, Corbos To any normal man, the battle with the Leviathan would have been dizzying and chaotic. Men flying through the air with swords and sabers, a gigantic monster breathing fire and wreaking havoc, the cave they found themselves in crumbling around them. But Corvar was no normal man, and the battle meld with Darth Feros had made his mind even clearer than it was before. While he had heard Feros’ desire for him to push the sword through the beast's gullet, he did not need to do anymore than hold on for dear life as he watched the blade erupt from the rear of the beast's throat. Its screams, still a chorus of damned souls, was weaker than it was before. It stumbled, the wounds it had been dealt finally taking a toll. However, Corvar knew that, despite his desire to maintain his hold moments before, that doing so now would ensure his death. He refused to die. And most of all, he refused to fail. Taking a quick glance behind to ensure he knew where he would land, Corvar dug deep within himself, drawing on power from the font deep within his soul. He then added Feros’ power with his own, hoping to end this battle in one final move. It had been an entertaining game, like holochess. But now it was time to end. Pressing against Leviathan's warped flesh and deactivating his lightsaber, Corvar leaped backward, flying towards the ground where Brooke was lying. As he flipped through the air, his eye drew to the glowing hot metal that was sticking out of the beast's flesh, reminding him of the tales of unicorns he'd been told as a child. However, unicorns were meant to be far less horrifying and revolting, last he remembered. Focusing on the blade of Jen-Sin Caal, Corvar used the power he'd accumulated to hopefully rip the sword through the back of the behemoth's neck, and into his awaiting hands at the same time of his landing. Checkmate.TAGS: Darth Catalyst , trentongordon , darthferos TAGSET: Corbos ___________________________________ IC: Lylia Cave System, Unknown Moon Lylia had let the order from Xxys roll off of her shoulders earlier, though the sheer audacity of this Sith to tell her to let these amateurs handle any threats… She had half a mind to send an elbow into his jaw. Then again, perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. If Xxys and the soldiers took point, then they would be the first ones eaten if any beasties lurked within this cave. She was not certain which was worse: the howling winds, pouring rain, and threat of death-by-lightning-strike that they faced outside, or the silent, looming threat of whatever lied within this cave. She had been perfectly content to just camp at the mouth of the cave, but nooooo, they just had to investigate. While she had been all for kicking out whoever lived here, the depths that they were going to find this stranger made her feel like a sitting duck. The broken-down loader did little to make her feel safe, though she doubted anything would at this point. However, the terminal had drawn her eye. Power was definitely flowing to it, but in didn't seem to be operational. A few quick repairs, or maybe something even less invasive, was all it would take to get the blasted thing working again. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Xxys whispering to the Major. She did not get interested in whatever conversation they were having, instead focusing on trying to find out what exactly was wrong with the terminal, if it was anything more than the power button simply being turned off. That would be rich, she thought to herself. TAGS: dragonsith13 , Darth Xxys , Reiis Invadator TAGSET: Unknown Moon |
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Volshe
Administrator
.: Empress
Posts: 229
Likes: 163
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Post by Volshe on May 21, 2019 3:00:57 GMT -5
IC: Commodore FrazanThe Triumphant, en route to the brigThe walk was as uneventful as any, the damaged turbolifts were slow, and only one hovercart with a friend of the commodore's was able to take them about a kilometre of the way. That was enough, though, and it saved them about twenty minutes. The hoverlift coasted to a stop just about a half kilometre from their destination. "Alright," Frazan replied, leading Nox out, "We're almost there. I'll let them know, so we don't have any mishaps." He pulled out his comm, still holding onto Nox's arm, and spoke quickly. "I got a Force Sensitive here, Lady Tano ordered him to the brig. Can you meet me in Hall..." He squinted at the markings on the wall, worn deep grey text. "Hall B227-AX. Just outside." The answering voice acknowledged and confirmed reinforcements. Frazan, of course, being a non-Force Sensitive himself, couldn't feel Azarius skulking about in the vicinity, nor the Rhandites being led through the other halls. TAG: Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror , Darth Dreadwar , Darth Voidwalker ,
IC: The Warden and the GuardsThe Brig, The Halls"Do you not speak common Basic?" the Warden said. He sneered. "You're next, get up." The guards rushed forward, shackling Entheos the same as Nix, pulling the hood upon his face. Perhaps he could escape, but the 'sabers upon the belts of the guards meant that he was vastly outnumbered. For the moment, at least. The Warden sized him up and motioned for him to be taken to the hangar. He spoke slowly, mockingly, with frigid expression. "Good luck." "And you!" The Warden called. More footsteps, and another energy was just behind him. The guards led him - and his associate - to the main corridor and the turbolifts beyond. ~~~~~~~ Nix was being led already onto a transport lift, eventually leading the few kilometres to the designated hangar. It was purposefully quite a distance, the bridges' attempt to be restricted from any threats of prison escape. The guards guided her to a bench in the car. They remained standing. Then, they were off, lights flickering through the thin fabric of the hood, the floor shuddering beneath them as they sped towards their destination. They arrived minutes later, and Nix was jostled to her feet. The guard whispered into her ear. "Short walk. Then you kneel. The Empress is the one who granted you clemency and she's the one who's gonna greet you." TAG: aureliaillium , maybe others in the area
IC: Empress VolsheThe Hangar, the TriumphantThe Empress glided towards the shuttle, her vessel moving in perfect rhythm. She motioned to the others, poised as ever. "Make yourselves comfortable, I will be aboard shortly." She turned to Shira. "Please, remain. We are awaiting further...associates for our mission." Her smile did not betray the fact they were not truly allies, but Shira would find out her plans soon enough - Alisha would discover the same, if she were not delayed still by the time they had all boarded or at the very least, arrived. "Gederp," she called, waving to him from her few strides away, "Give signal to any pilots they are free to survey the area, request they report back as soon as they have information, as well." TAG: dragonsith13 , Shira , Padawan4687 , anyone I'm forgetting TAGSET: Triumphant/UR
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Post by taciteoccultus on May 21, 2019 7:16:14 GMT -5
IC: Jekyll/ HydeLocation: The Tomb of Darth Cognus, Korriban Hyde laughs at the question. And then begins to rant. " What's going on with me? An experiment gone wrong, I'm stuck in a body I knew nothing about, in a time that is not my own, I hate history and somehow I got stuck in it. One moment I am performing an experiment the next I'm stuck in this pathetic Jedi's body. And the worst part I have to share it with him because I don't know how to kill him without killing myself." Jekyll then speaks up. " Do you think I like the fact my body was invaded by a hate filled, violent, repulsive soul that only cares about themself? But unlike you I control myself as there is No Emotion l, only Peace." Hyde enraged replies. " Enough of your hypocritic Jedi crap. If I wanted your opinion, which I probably would have to be extremely delerious for, I would force you to give it to me. So shut up and disappear you karking piece of filth ridden, unimpressive, Jedi garbage." TAG: Mitthfisto, darthkain7, |
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Post by Chunran on May 21, 2019 7:47:30 GMT -5
The Pellaeon-class Star Destroyer Brigadier, en route to the Dathomir system, hyperspace- Illiums Quarters Ic: Chunran The room messy as it was somehow fit the six of them, Emperor Dreadwar in all of his magnificence, Captain Caracalla the ships iron fisted commander, Illium their leader, head of this mission and a trusted ally, Dwomutsiqsa and vitani both capable sith, however aside from that he knew little and the mission dossier shared even less. Yet somehow the crowded chambers felt cold and empty. His cheek ached from the cold hard floor but he knew better than to rise himself up in the presence of the god emperor before him " Riissse, my children," the Emperor rasped, and immediately Chunrans blood turned to ice " Lady Illium shall disclose to you the mission you shall be undertaking." It took every ounce of Chunrans strength to stand up again, his icicle filled bloodstream seemed to want him to stay on the ground, none the less Chunran rose slowly and turned to face his commander and listen to what illiums had to say while a serpent twisted around her arms and entwined itself in her red and black ensemble tags Darth Dreadwar, aureliaillium, dwomutsiqsa, corinthia, darthvoxyn |
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Post by Mitthfisto on May 21, 2019 15:50:49 GMT -5
IC: Mitth TsuroThe Tomb of Darth Cognus, KorribanIt was pleasing to see himself gain the upper hand with Makashi, literally especially was pleasing as he deflected the attacks of the sentinels sending their blades into the right wall as planned. A move that allowed his lunge forward to sever their stone hands from the their bodies. Essentially disarmed and now at his mercy he showed them none as he did the same to their heads, decapitating the first two sentinels and causing their forms to crumble into equal piles of dust, along with their blades. He knew that was a bad sign, and had gasped in surprise before holding his breath at the first tickle and need to cough from the dust. But it was already too late. He knew it as the world began to bob and weave as his head did not feel right. He stumbled back trying to remember his readings on Bane and poison cleansing. But an abstract idea never practiced didn't want to stick in a head that nearly felt like it was going to float away. No, not like he was going to float away, he was floating away. Looking down, he hoped to see the floor, focus on something near and solid as he scrambled for a way to save himself and steady his mind as even his guts reeled. Instead, he saw his own body. He watched helplessly as the sentinels proceeded onward, cutting past the T'landa Til's defenses. Only one word fit the scene, "Poodoo." he muttered as he continued to drift away. The final blow and the end were lost to him as his ever drifting mind or spirit met the ceiling. Then it all went to black. No rage, no rally at the night. No remembrance of past wrongs or imperceptive slights. Nothing, nothing at all. TAGS: taciteoccultus, darthkain7,
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Post by dwomutsiqsa on May 21, 2019 19:17:40 GMT -5
IC: Dwomutsiqsa Location: Brigadier, Illium's Quarters 😏 (😬) Face, or rather helmet, planted into the steel, he heard his demons taunt him. With arcane rhetoric, he smothered their Dark whispers. The crushing pressure on his back, a correction of etiquette indeed; he hadnt known to prostrate, but now he would never forget. Perhaaps Chûnrân could have given a warning? ☺☺☺☺ He was bidden to rise by the Emperor in his idiosyncratic hiss and whisper. He rose with ambivalence cutting deep into his -- all right -- heart, and waited, with his breath held, for Illium to disclose, before the "wraith in the room" turned sweat to snow. Chunran , darthvoxyn , aureliaillium , corinthia , Darth Dreadwar |
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Reiis Invadator
Citizen
.: Konstig Krigare
(Tag as "@kaierlae")
Posts: 52
Likes: 37
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Post by Reiis Invadator on May 23, 2019 12:45:58 GMT -5
IC: Kai Erlae Kai maintained his position in the rear, quietly thankful he wasn't one of the Knight joining this "Xxys" person as they advanced forward. He stole a glance to the side, leaning slightly around the woman they had picked up to see. But, there was little to see, and so he resumed his guard of the back. There was nothing...that way. But his stomach churned with a very literal movement -- It. While he himself could not sense anything, the presence and general unease of the wretched beast in his stomach did provide some indication of danger, or at the very least something surprising that was held hidden in the future. He didn't know how, nor did he care to know. But, it was. And surprisingly reliable. So when It moved with quiet hesitation, he took notice and tried to step further into the shadows. His skin was red, though dark enough that it worked, but he cringed knowing his blaster and the belt buckle of his makeshift brace would shine tellingly in the smallest ray of light. His eyes strained to see further into where the three men had vanished, but to no avail. He would wait. There was nothing else to do, anyways. TAG: dragonsith13 Darth Xxys darthkain7 |
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corinthia
Citizen
High Priestess Hesper / Jephego Rose
Posts: 45 
Likes: 73
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Post by corinthia on May 23, 2019 23:33:37 GMT -5
Character Summary: A bitter and vengeful Devaronian woman, Callistra Linn Vakarr has a horrid past she wishes she could dole out violent retribution for. A Sith by circumstance, not by choice, Callistra feels her fate is bound to the Eternal Sith Empire. She is focused, curious, strong, and dedicated.
 Name/Title: Callistra Linn Vakarr / Pólvora Age: 35 Sex: F Species: Devaronian Homeworld: Darvannis Occupation: Sith Height: 5’8" Appearance: Callistra Linn is an average height Devaronian woman with pale carmine skin and eyes that are such a deep red they're almost black, when they're not Sithly yellow and orange. Her skin has been covered with the black tattoos characteristic of Krayt's One Sith, from her neck down, leaving her face unmarked. Much of Callistra's body has been replaced or enhanced with cybernetics, including: her right arm from the shoulder and part of her chest, her lungs and heart (pulmonodes), her jaw, and left leg from the hip down. What's covered by cybernetics has been badly scarred. She has inky black hair with a single silver streak at the front that she wears cropped to chin-length and shaved on the left side of her head. Callistra Linn typically wears multiple layers, but her most distinguishing style choices are her wide-brimmed black hat, her twin blaster holsters, and her lace-up ankle boots with spurs. She favors wearing black and deep dried-blood red. Callistra would not be caught dead wearing a dress, and never bothers with cosmetics. Weapons: Two LL-30 blasters, one red-bladed lightsaber Equipment: Refurbished 74-Z speeder bike Languages: Galactic Basic, Huttese Description of Abilities: Callistra Linn is a capable hand-to-hand combatant, both unarmed and with a lightsaber, but relies on her blasters due to a limp; she is an exceedingly talented markswoman. Her bones have been reinforced with titanium, but she avoids physical fights. She has a developed talent for mechanics and electronics. Her Force abilities are somewhat unremarkable, though she is skilled in mind tricks and the rare mechu-deru ability. Strengths: Stubborn to a fault, Callistra Linn will never give up a fight once she's committed. Extremely accurate gunfighter (perhaps even relying on the Force), creative in jury-rigging improvised weapons. Quite physically strong. Focused. Skilled in tricking the mind and mechu-deru. Very curious… or rather, suspicious. Knows a surprising amount about farming. Weaknesses: Walks with a distinct limp and relies on cybernetics. May perhaps be afraid of unarmed combat. Inflexible. Not the most discerning Sith, and has many emotional scars she works hard to compensate for. Not particularly strong in physical manipulations in the Force. Irrational. Extremely prone to unhealthy attachment. Personality: A bitter and severe woman, Callistra Linn wants only one thing: retribution. Having suffered much throughout her life, she is committed to "getting back" at the galaxy for hurting her. She has a fiery temper, a stubborn streak ten parsecs wide, and an insatiable curiosity. She is unapologetically dedicated to her cause and to the Sith and has a hard time masking her emotions, wearing them on her sleeves often. She believes fate drove her to return to the Sith, and will follow her curiosity wherever it leads. Biography: A slave by birth, Callistra Linn was born on Darvannis in the year 119 ABY. Her early life was harsh, for she was sold to offworld slavers at the age of five and taken to Tatooine, where she served in a junkyard cleaning spare parts and doing other menial labor. But in the very next year, the Sith-Imperial War began. Callistra Linn's masters on Tatooine were slain in a skirmish, and she was abducted by a human Sith by the name of Darth Tristor—a member of Darth Krayt's One Sith. Darth Tristor was a cruel master, but he was not obtuse. He could sense his young abductee possessed the Force, but he was not interested in training a slave; so he used the promise of teaching young Callistra as a way to keep her obedient and loyal. And so for the entirety of the Sith-Imperial War, Callistra Linn was dragged all over the galaxy by Tristor, bearing witness to all sorts of atrocities and violence. It was during this time, too, that Callistra Linn received her Sith tattoos on her arms, chest, back, and legs. A permanent reminder of what her life now belonged to... By the end of the war, however, Tristor had begun to grow fond of Callistra Linn, almost as if she were a daughter—Callistra had grown tough and vicious, despite being only nine years old. And she was beginning to view him as a father, too, as unhealthy as it was. Callistra and Tristor's relationship began to change over the next few years, becoming less a master and slave relationship and more of a strange mentor and mentee relationship, despite Callistra never being freed from slavery. War began again in 130 ABY, and midway through the Second Imperial War, Tristor broke down and began to train Callistra in the Force, leaving the One Sith and stowing away on a remote world, far from the reaches of the Sith. But barely a year into her training, misfortune struck. Tristor was a man with a host of enemies and rivals, and it had turned out it was only a matter of time before he was hunted down. To Callistra Linn's devastation, Tristor was brutally murdered at the hands of his rival, a brutish Lethan Twi'lek by the name of Mu'lik. Wanting to stop the slaying, thirteen-year-old Callistra bravely threw herself between Tristor and Mu'lik with her newly-built lightsaber, attempting to use the Force to push Mu'lik away. But she was still weak—too weak to prevent her master's death. And Mu'lik and his gang were vicious and wicked. Capturing terrified Callistra, they gleefully and savagely dismembered her, taking her right arm and left leg and crushing her chest before leaving her for dead. Callistra Linn, however, was underestimated in her power. She crawled for help, clawing her way, one-handed, towards anything or anyone. Mere hours later, she was discovered by chance by a rogue Imperial medic by the name of Dionne, who to Callistra's relief, healed her, replacing her arm, leg, and right lung. And, as a favor, Dionne also reinforced some of Callistra's bones with titanium, hoping it would help her avoid further disfigurement. When Callistra came to and truly met Dionne, the pair hit it off right away; instantly fast friends, the odd pair took to the edges of the known galaxy, robbing banks, stores, museums, transports, anything that had anything worth taking. Their criminal life was exhilarating but short, however, and ended abruptly when Dionne was tragically killed in a robbery gone wrong, three years after their first meeting. Once again captured and sold into slavery, Callistra Linn wound up on Zeltros as a slave to a madam of a brothel, where she was not a whore, but a maid, cook, receptionist, medic, or whatever else was needed around the establishment. But the seedy underbelly of the galaxy is never kind, and salaciousness in all its forms is often unavoidable. The next five years she spent at the brothel were slow, tedious, perilous, and merciless; it's during this time, too, that Callistra learned the art of mechu-deru out of necessity… as often she found herself on the brink of death after a too-close encounter with a drunkard or particularly violent client. By the time the Second Imperial War ended in 143 ABY, Callistra had painstakingly saved enough credits to buy her freedom and a small plot of rural land on her home planet of Darvannis. Desperate to escape her hellish life, she fully invested herself in living off her land, far from the horrors of the rest of the galaxy. Growing recluse and bitter as the years dragged on, Callistra Linn only began to spend more and more time chewing on the events of her life. The Sith had shaped her, however violently. And although she hated Krayt's One Sith, she knew a new Empire of Sith had risen in its place, and perhaps it was time to return to them—perhaps fate demanded it. In 153 ABY, Callistra Linn decided to sell her farm and return to the Sith and see their new Empire, following her instincts and curiosity wherever it may lead her—and perhaps doling out some dark justice along the way. Level 5 – 16 points Force Push/Pull – 2 Force Choke – 2 Force Jump – 1 Mind Trick – 2 Form I – 2 Form V – 3 Form VII – 1 Force Rage – 2 Waves of Darkness – 1 |
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corinthia
Citizen
High Priestess Hesper / Jephego Rose
Posts: 45
Likes: 73
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Post by corinthia on May 24, 2019 0:09:16 GMT -5
IC: Darth Hesper
The Great Library, Sith Temple
Within the Lorekeeper's personal laboratory, five sentients were gathered around a peculiar globe, attempting to accomplish a task—and what that task was, Hesper had yet to discern. With her hands placed on the strange glowing orb, she studied the faces in a circle around her with suspicion. The Lorekeeper, especially, she eyed with wariness. He was an odd one, short and manic and smelling distinctly putrid… but he was so extremely knowledgeable. He was, after all, the lore-keeper. Hesper couldn't decide if she loathed or liked him. She was new to Korriban, and to the ways of the Sith; only having arrived a handful of standard weeks prior, she had quickly learned that studying the ways of the Sith and living the ways of the Sith were two vastly different things. But she was lucky, in the very least: she had been selected to become the apprentice to the preeminent Emperor, Darth Dreadwar. Wraith-like and enigmatic, Hesper was fascinated by him. The ancientness he exuded suggested millennia of erudition, experience, and fine-honed wit. She was awed to be under the tutelage of such a master. The orb under her hands drew her attention again—it was cold to the touch, but within it swirled light and color, growing in luminance until it was nothing more than a bright ball. "It is working!" The Lorekeeper exclaimed, skinny lips parting to show a mouth full of rotten teeth in a facsimile of a smile. Hesper's heart thudded in her ears. Then, the smooth, hard surface of the globe suddenly changed, and became liquid. It climbed up their hands and wrists, slithering and flowing. Uneasiness pinched Hesper's throat shut. "Let go!" The Lorkeeper's voice had grown panicked, and Hesper's heart felt like it was going to pop right out of her chest; panic was beginning to seize her, too. She tried to yank her hands away from the molten globe, but couldn't. They seemed to be fixed in place. Her bright steel eyes flicked between everyone around her—they were all similarly trying to take their hands away from the freakish orb. The liquid light quickly scaled their arms, and their chests, and crept up their necks. Hesper was biting back a scream; quiet and of few words, she had been making a conscious effort ever since arriving on Korriban to make as little noise as possible. But the urge to scream tickled and scraped at the back of her throat like a clawed animal climbing out of a burrow. Her eyes locked with the Lorekeeper's in her alarm; the light was enveloping her face now, coating her narrow jaw and slim cheeks. The Lorekeeper's smile was back, and was even more sinister than before. Hesper could almost imagine tiny white maggots peeking between his black teeth and writhing around… then her vision disappeared and was replaced by endless gold. She could see her companions tumbling aimlessly in the expansive nothingness, but she soon lost sight of them. Then, with a jolt, it was over. Hesper was sprawled out on her side, left arm tucked uncomfortably under her body. Her hair was splayed out behind her, and it seemed to blend seamlessly with the endless gold of the landscape surrounding them. She pushed herself up to a sitting position, hair pooling around her hips, and looked around for the people she had been with. "Hello?" she called out, and her voice rang like a bell in the empty expanse. Everyone was gone. Grimacing, Hesper stood, and grabbed her lightsaber from her belt. She held it low at her side, like a tool with which she could bludgeon someone, and turned slowly in a circle. She was alone.
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Post by darthkain7 on May 24, 2019 1:34:17 GMT -5
IC: Zul'tar The Tomb of Darth Cognus, Korriban The manic woman within the young man's body began to speak of, what Zul'tar considered to be, madness. An experiment gone awry, traveling to the past and stuck within the body she resides… utter hysteria. The boy began to argue with her, and she quickly silenced him, insulting the poor lad with various obscenities. "Enough!" Zul'tar demanded, his voice booming and reverberating against the walls of this archive room. "I need you, the both of you, to coexist long enough for us to kill this spy and be on our way. A hand can only create a fist if all of its fingers agree to bend, understand?"* * *
Night had taken the barren wastes of Korriban, the cosmos of space almost entirely visible from the ground below. Quite beautiful in comparison to its daytime sky, which only displayed the ugly, foreboding badlands that lied beyond. However, this made the night twice as deadly, for the dangers remained regardless of the sun's revelations. Tuk'ata, shyracks, and other beasts roamed across the sandy wasteland in search of their next meal. Maddened Sith could be prowling as well, looking to gain power by slaughtering whatever they came across, be it man or beast. Korriban was not for the faint-hearted, least of all in its twilight hours. Callistra Linn had been called quite a few things in her life, but none of them even came close to "faint-hearted." The Devaronian zoomed across the rolling hills of the desert upon her reconditioned 74-Z Speeder Bike, creating a trail of dispersed dust as she went. It was not entirely difficult, traveling this way; after all, the number of obstacles on a planet still largely uninhabited by intelligent life was rather low. Not only that, but such fast transportation made it nearly impossible for most predators to keep track of her, let alone hunt her down. She, of course, had a reason for this late-night adventure. After selling her farm on Darvannis, she had come to Korriban to see what the Empire had done with the place. It seemed better than before, if only by a little. If for no other reason than to strike back at the galaxy that had dealt her such a terrible hand. After spending a few months on the planet and reintegrating into the life of a Sith student, during a night's sleep that had felt rather restful, she was awoken by whispers and flashing images dancing in her mind. Magma and water running alongside one another like twin rivers. I will learn from your wisdom.A door of stone, glowing with veins of crimson and violet. I will discover your secrets, unlocking them one by one.A pile of corpses lying at the doorstep of a grand tomb. I will destroy you.Callistra awoke, startled. The Force had granted her a vision, and in turn, a purpose. Was this the reason she had been drawn to her past? Would this give her some hope for a new future. It was worth sating her curiosity, either way. After all, what else was she to do on this blasted world? She was more powerful than a majority of the others who were at her rank; even with her limp, she could take down the entirety of the academy's students before they even ignited their sabers, she wagered. Might as well do something worth a damn. After following the way that the Force guided her, she soon found herself at an exact replica of the tomb she had seen in her visions. So exact, in fact, that it had to be the real thing. The only difference, however, was the bodies at its doorstep. In her vision, the details of the bodies were blurred, and she could have sworn they were corpses. Instead, she could very clearly see the unconscious lot, lying in various positions but all equally senseless. A Lethan Twi'lek woman, a human male, and two other species she could not quite describe, we're laid before her. Strange. This was not the kind of place one would find a band of misfits like this snoozing, and from the lightsabers on their belts, they were obviously members of the Empire. How did they end up here? And why were the doors to the tomb already opened? In her vision, they were still shut. Was someone else already inside? TAGS: taciteoccultus , corinthia TAGSET: Tomb of Cognus Attachments:
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Padawan4687
Imperial Intelligence
.: Empress' Sword / Director of Intelligence
Posts: 133
Likes: 112
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Post by Padawan4687 on May 25, 2019 1:52:04 GMT -5
IC: Robyn ShaireLocation: En route to Yavin IVWell, at least it didn't look like Robyn was late in getting to the Hangar. With her bags over one shoulder, she arrived in time to see Lord Catalyst and other members of what she guessed to be his 'crew' for this crazy mission. She crossed her arms with a silent pout at Catalyst's way of greeting her. It had been a century, had it? No, it had only been a few days... Ever since the tomb expedition, he'd been completely ignoring her in favor of getting in bed with Lady Apollyon, if the rumors were to be believed. Not that Robyn particularly cared with her jerk classmates to deal with... she didn't have the time or energy to concern herself with the rapidly changing bedpartners of elder Sith. She marched on past him and boarded the shuttle with her head held high. Robyn didn't quite know what to expect on Yavin, or even on this trip... but she wouldn't show her nerves. Or rather, couldn't. That amulet around her neck was working wonders in that regard. She just had to keep it and herself safe if anybody decided to eye it... Luckily, Robyn reached the inside and to an empty room with no issue, and was just getting settled inside when the comm system overhead began to blink. Lord Catalyst speaks, evidently having fun with the announcement. "Attention passengers, we have now reached our cruising speed. Feel free to roam about the cabins, grab a snack, take a nap, what have you. We will be reaching Yavin IV in a matter of hours barring something going catastrophically wrong. Drinks will be served in the common area and full mission briefing shall begin in the primary conference room in five minutes." Take a nap...? Robyn quietly scoffed at the notion, also chuckling at Lord Catalyst's particular brand of humor. Of course he would joke about the trip working fine, unless catastrophy... She did not want to worry about the blasted ship crumbling over her feet! She had enough fears of death stalking her back at the Sith Temple... Robyn vigorously shook her head, and after a long mental debate, left the room with her bags hidden under the mattress. She could use a warm drink if she'd be on this ship for a while... With a mug of fresh caf in hand, Robyn arrived at the conference room and briefly bowed to all present before taking a seat. TAG: Darth Dreadwar , dice , taciteoccultus , gorzan , Darth Catalyst
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Darth Cruor
Citizen
Undead Lord of the Sith
Posts: 29
Likes: 46
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Post by Darth Cruor on May 25, 2019 10:48:33 GMT -5
The LorekeeperWithin the Orb, Great Library, KorribanThe molten amber consumed the four of the five, the fifth being the Lorekeeper himself, as the globe began to transform back from it's liquid state into a solid orb his maniacal laughter filled his laboratory. Those who were now within the globe of course would never hear him, in fact they would hear very little at all for within the globe was nothing, simply put. A vast sea of gold everywhere the eye turned, the ground and sky seamlessly blended together and no landscape to offer depth or distinguish distance. "Hello!?" Abaddon called out, “Can anyone hear me!?” Her voice echoed within the vast and empty surroundings, even now she would suspect that nothing was there to return her inquiry. Her suspicion would be wrong, of course, the Orb had other occupants but Abaddon would not know that. Nor did the Lorekeeper, how could he? The Orb obscured that which resided within, even now he could no longer detect the presence of the four who had just been consumed, the only indication that something had changed was that the Orb now felt warm to the touch rather than cold. The Lorekeeper had succeeded in trapping four individuals within the Orb, the artifact was awakened and empowered, he just needed to learn how to use it. Hesper's dilemma was no different than that of Abaddon's, her call went unheard and no reply was offered from the empty golden landscape. Standing was an odd sensation, the lack of environment gave her no landmarks to give her a sense of up and down, turning was just as strange but she was already becoming accustomed to the feeling. She would soon surmise the same as Abaddon, there was nothing here at all. There was no way for either of them to determine where within the Orb they were, how far apart they were from each other, or even how much time had passed since they had been here. They had found themselves in a most disturbing situation, how would they proceed from here? Tag: corinthia darthkain7,
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Post by Deleted on May 25, 2019 18:44:33 GMT -5
IC: Trill
Location: Sinister Sith Temple The battle was over for now… they could all rest and continue on with their journey. However, one problem now presented itself to the group. It was night time and way too dark for anyone to even consider still exploring. Had the battle with the beast take that long that no one noticed the sun setting and the moon rising. They were now trapped in this temple for the night. But if Trill was right about her God being here, then it was a blessing that they had the chance to stay within his domain without permission. Was the beast a test by him? Had to be… Watching as Malos finished off the beast she incapacitated; Trill had no reason to worry about it any further as she looked out upon the now ruins of the library. Every single one of the library sections had been knocked over and books from all over would be cluttering the parts of the floor that isn’t covered in the blood of the beast. It would be a lot harder for her to gain the knowledge she needed to figure out her situation. Coupled with the fact that she could barely read any of this, she needed one of the others to guide her through. Was there an Imperial translation book somewhere? Walking over to the lone corner where she placed her book, Trill picked it up and began to walk back to the group as she hoped one of them would be able to make a light for her. However, if they also could keep moving, her and the kilajins could hurry and find her Daritha. As long as they found him, they would be in good hands for the night. They could relax in comfortable cots; probably take a nice warm bath, and the food. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a decent banquet. It was definitely before she was sent on her expedition to Tython. “Kilajin? We keep walking now! Make light so see the way.” She ordered out to Malos hoping that he could understand her. Then turning her attention to Volacius she decided to give him some orders as well. “You! Help Trinaya walk. Get her up so we move.” With everything said, Trill kept a firm grasp on the book with her left hand as she realized she could make her own light for herself. Activating her force saber and letting the blue crystal come to life within the simply hilt, she waved it around slowly hoping that some type of direction to her God and new Master would become clear for her and the others. A bunch of nonbelievers was something that didn’t work in her favor and it was probably why he didn’t reveal himself or send his slaves. However, if she could convince the others to see the light, Trill was sure that she would receive a divine gift. Tag: darthkain7, volacius, cliojayne |
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Volshe
Administrator
.: Empress
Posts: 229
Likes: 163
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Post by Volshe on May 25, 2019 18:52:57 GMT -5
 Name/Title: Harold Age: 4 Sex: Harold doesn’t like labels. Species: Chitlik Homeworld: Dromund Kaas Occupation: ...Chitlik Height: about 6 inches Appearance: Adorable. Weapons: Two front teeth and cute little claws. Equipment: An old space waffle box (Harold’s brand) that Harold quite enjoys. A packet of bangcorn and a cork stolen from a pricey bottle of liquor. Description of Abilities: Sapient, though cannot speak basic. Communicates very effectively in squeaks and chirps. Can draw quite well with tiny hands. Personality: Mischievous and a little bit evil. Biography: Harold was born on Dromund Kaas, but does not remember much, as a victim to the horrid suffering of barely sentient life. Then, there was the experimental pest control attempts by one deranged Sith Lord who hated Harold’s family. Most of them died. But Harold lived, and Harold found that its brain grew. And grew. And grew. New synapses! New neuropathways! Intelligence and dexterity beyond compare! Having a family that resided in a Harold’s Space Waffle box, that became Harold’s name. Now Harold runs a community of fellow Chitliks on Korriban...occasionally sneaking into the shuttles there for a bit of adventure no one else can provide. And also to nab some more caramel bang-corn. Man, that stuff is good. |
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Post by darthferos on May 25, 2019 19:53:53 GMT -5
IC: Darth Feros Hanging by a Thread Corbos Feros clutched the outcropping of stone on the wall. Safe. Finally. He looked at the beast, and it screamed again. But it was weaker now. And the thing seemed to be wavering. Feros thought his last ditch attack must have worked. He could see through Corvar's eyes in his own Mind's eye and could tell the sword had passed through the beast's mouth and had blew out the back of its throat. It would have split the thing's brain stem or spine that way. It was losing motor control. He had killed it. And all three of the others seemed to be alive. Maladi would be pleased. She might reward him. Though the only reward he wanted was a chance to kill her. He felt Corvar pull on the force and leap to near where Brooke lay, still incapacitated it seemed. Good. As long as Reaper could get away, they might make it out of this. Feros decided he wouldn't take any chances. He could see the deep chasm the monster was teetering on the edge of. Feros smiled. He reached out in the Force, pulling as much of it into himself as he could tolerate. Focusing his anger at the thing for trying to kill them. For choosing this chamber as its resting place. For not just rolling over and dying eons ago. For being possibly the only surviving Leviathan, since Feros had worked out that that was what it was, in existence. His fear at nearly dying multiple times, leaving much business unfinished. He focused it all into a white hot rage, releasing it in the form of a Force Push aimed at the flank of the monster. He just hoped Reaper could jump clear before. Darth Catalyst darthkain7 trentongordon |
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Post by trentongordon on May 25, 2019 20:33:38 GMT -5
IC: Reaper Corbos Reaper had accomplished his goal. He'd hurt the beast and managed to kill it though not without the help of his companions. He was alive. For now. He could feel the beast shiver as it began to slowly lose strength. He pulled his hands from the muck and looked for a clearing. He saw Corvar and Brooke to one side and on the other side he saw Feros. The maniac who tried to pull an inSidious move. Reaper having made up his mind pushed off from the beast and jumped towards Brooke and Corvar hoping to clear the beast and the chasm. He wore a smirk on his face as he did so. He was proud. He should be. He killed a Leviathan. A beast older than himself and much much stronger. He only proved himself the bigger predator. Though as he crossed the gap his mind wandered and his smirk was gone replaced by sadness. The beast was dead or dying. He wanted to tame it but now it would die. He had caused the Leviathan's to go extinct and he could never gain the Leviathan as a pet now. But he had his life, he had the sword and he could get revenge in the giant space slug for everything he'd done. Tag: Darth Catalyst darthkain7 darthferos |
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Post by Darth Voidwalker on May 25, 2019 23:43:07 GMT -5
IC: Srethros Dread Fortress, Oricon Srethros had little time to think over the option that the Gand had presented before him. One one hand they could simply kill Tacite and possibly be done with this madness, or they could attempt to save him with alchemy. Neither choice looked promising to Srethros, he knew that he had to quickly make a decision, especially now that Tacite had awoken and panic was setting in. A panicking monster can quickly become a dangerous monster. “Blast it all to hell! We’ve already lost one acolyte, might as well not lose another. We’ll take him back and see what the alchemy can do.” I cannot be known as the master that lost an apprentice no sooner than he took one. If he dies from the alchemy, then so be, he wasn’t strong enough to be my apprentice in the first place. If he survives, then he’ll wish that I had granted him death.Deactivating his lightsaber and placing it back on his belt, Srethros quickly shouted out to no the Gand and the acolyte Voxyn. Hopefully they listened to his orders, if the acolyte didn’t listen well, that would be a different situation to be addressed later. “Just hold him there Gand, don’t let him escape your grip. Voxyn, be ready to bind the monsters body soon as he goes limp!” Without even a pause from the time his words left his mouth, Srethros raised both of his hands and let out his built up frustration in the forms of Sith lightning. The beams of violent energy crackling and cutting the air as it made it way towards Tacite to subdue the monster. “Don’t you dare die on me monster, your death is reserved for my hand alone!” TAG: Darth Catalyst taciteoccultus darthvoxyn |
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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 May 26, 2019 3:18:53 GMT -5
IC Lord Catalyst En Route to Yavin Each person that filed around the long table was greeted with a quick nod by Lord Catalyst. He smirked at Xirr’s little jab at him, but wasn't about to reply yet. Samael was excited as ever to be here while Robyn seemed to be more reserved and cautious. His apprentices little exposition almost garnered an eye roll but Catalyst instead saw an opportunity for a lesson. “Remind me to explain just how wrong you are, Neoplix,” he stated in response to the apparent explanation for the lack of presence of the young woman that had accompanied Neoplix. “In the meantime though, I'd like to thank you all for attending this little presentation.” Catalyst scanned the room, locking eyes with each individual that sat in front of him. “Now, what I'm about to say will be rather repetitive for most of you but it bears a full summary regardless. We're on a mission to Yavin IV to infiltrate the Jedi Temple there. At the temple is hopefully information on a specific individual important to our Emperor.” He pushed a few buttons on his wristpad and the prophecy that they were researching jumped into a rotating hologram above the table. And in the time of greatest dread when the nemesis devours all, there shall come a saviour marked by Ragnarok, unto whom was born Mitth'res'pheie.“Our task is to find information on this Mitth’res’pheie. It's a Chiss name, that much we know. It's possible that the Jedi archives have information that we do not.” He grinned at them all. “We can't have that now can we? Now, we need to formulate a plan. Not everyone here can move without a trace so we need to find a way to move unnoticed regardless of how much of a footprint we leave. Some of us,” he eyed Xirr and Neoplix, “are bound to draw more suspicion than others. Shaire and I have a particular expertise on the ways of the Jedi, so obviously we're going to be heading the infiltration team. Other than that, I have no idea what the rest of you are best suited for. If we're going to be fighting, there's nobody I'd rather have by my side than Lord Xirr, but I would rather it not come to that.” Although indulging may not be outside the realm of possibility. “Samael, I know little of your specializations, so you'll be under Xirr’s direction unless you can prove to me that you are better suited to stealth and infiltration.” Catalyst turned off the hologram and stood up from his seat. “Is there anything else we need to go over?” TAG: taciteoccultus, Padawan4687, gorzan, dice, Darth Dreadwar
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Post by volacius on May 26, 2019 15:47:51 GMT -5
IC Volacius Location- Sinister Sith Temple, Korriban When the lightning faded, Volacius had watched in silent awe as the Terentatek writhed. One final strike from Trill, and it came crashing down, allowing Malos to deliver the killing blow. It was savage, a fitting end for such an abomination. Now that he did not have to divert the entirety of his focus toward combating the Terentatek, Volacius realized that night had come upon the battered group. It was of little consequence, as the temple provided shelter from the elements and the numerous hostile fauna that inhabited Korriban’s unchecked wilderness; however, the temple also played host to its own set of dangers. Volacius thought back to the seemingly undead Tuk’ata and Rancor that he and Trill had encountered beforehand, as well as to the Terentatek that they have only barely managed to slay. If such deadly forces had already been revealed, Volacius had to consider that what they had witnessed and been subjected to might not be the extent of the terrors the temple held within its ancient walls. Interrupting his train of thought, Volacius turned toward Trill, who seemed to be giving orders to him as well as to Malos. Foolish girl, Volacius thought. No one here is subject to you or to your decrepit, long-forgotten Empire. Trill had commanded Volacius to carry Trinaya, he assumed, or at least to wake her up and to help her, but Volacius knew with his left leg in its current state, that would prove excessively difficult. Instead of heeding the ancient woman, Volacius looked to Malos. “What are your instructions, Lord Malos?” He asked, making sure to glance in Trill’s direction so that she knew he was intentionally undermining her perceived authority. “How should we proceed?” darthkain7 , @lordjania , cliojayne |
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Vesper
Moderator
Posts: 7
Likes: 7
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Post by Vesper on May 27, 2019 12:55:30 GMT -5
IC: Darth VesperLocation: The Citadel, Ziost Battlegrounds, Far West Entrance
Threads had been stretched and pulled. Weaved and threaded again. Formed and molded by the maker’s hand into the creation that was intended. Much time had passed and at long last the former Queen of darkness and shadows emerged from her concealed solitude. Hours ago the lady of darkness had weaved yet another elaborate illusion when she had sensed the oncoming danger. It had been the perfect cover.
Originally, she had come to Ziost to return home, yet it was no longer such a place, as she had quickly come to find the moment the Upsilon Class Shuttle had entered into prelandng patterns. No, this place was not home. It had quickly become a decrepit wasteland, a battlefield. Not the grand citadel she had shared with the Dark Lord of the new Sith order. Not the ancient halls of stone, lined with torches of firelight that danced upon shadowed walls, no this place was not home. Now that the screams of blaster fire and explosions had ceased she had the briefest of moments to see the reality and horror of the planet she had once considered her sanctuary.
Vesper had waited for the troops to disperse, a quite unexpected turn of events; she had lost the force signatures of many, suddenly, with no warning, with no explanation whatsoever. Since then all had been quite for the last few hours and the woman had remained concealed until she was absolutely positive things were in fallback. Experience, however, had taught her to stay cautious and alert, Vesper did just that. Her image flickered back into reality, out of the realm between illusion and actual presence; she inhaled sharply, a hand raising to one of the twin sabers that was always clipped securely to her simplistic utility belt. The coolness of the darkened metal brought comfort as it was caressed with care. The slender fingers of the dark lady wrapped one by one around the stark firmness of the body of her treasured weapon, thumb at the ready, lightly teasing the switch that yearned to be pressed to bring the vigorous blade to life.
Each step pulled her from hiding and each step was silent as she crushed the fresh bed of fallen snow as she made her way up the far-sided entrance to the Citadel. The Citadel housed many such side entrances, much like the one the Upsilon crew had entered upon arrival; the portcullis she had used to flee during her pregnancy with not just one child of the Dark Lord. No, little had she known at the time she carried twins. The children of darkness. They were grown now, though they still had much to learn.
Vesper took another step, crushing the snow beneath her boot, relishing in the silence of the world before her. Icy winds whipped lightly, nipping at her cheeks that were pinked with the sudden drop in temperature. What once was a place of a grandeur was now a decrepit wasteland, giving way to war and corruption; a place that was crumbling to the dust whence it came, this place that had once been her home. Her mind began to drift, drift to a world she once knew…
“My sweet angel…” The horizon spoke of hours after vespers as the Queen stepped out onto the long outstretched walkway from within the Citadel’s confines. A slight chill took the air, rather quite refreshing, not to mention enjoyable to be out of the stone walls that held them so safe. As much as she preferred their time indoors, there were those rare moments where Vesper found the Dark Lord stealing away into the outer confines of darkness. This was one of those moments. He had sensed her presence; he always had. A light breeze had struck a silent medley in that seemingly peaceful moment and the young Queen’s grasp on the edges of her velveteen robe of deep emerald grew tighter like the iron fist of the Dark Lord of the Sith before her. “You should be sleeping.” He observed, his voice deep and full of ardent concern for the woman before him. The Jedi. He had fallen for a Jedi, seduced her and convinced her to return with him to the Sith Order on Ziost. Stealing away in Shadows to her chambers within the Temple on Ossus, within the confines of darkness he seduced her into forbidden passion.
“I could not, My Lord.” Her tone dripped of youth and angelic beauty as she gave reverence to the Dark Lord whom she loved, whom she craved, and yet whom she feared. Such passion that burned for him within her veins. “Erisi…” His voice chided with care. Indeed, she knew she did not need to refer to him as her Lord, yet, the feeling of requirement sat heavy deep within her very being. Perhaps it was the pious nature driven into her by her former Sith Master. The Dark Lord neared her, taking her breath into him as he approached her near trembling petite form; his hand gracing her cheek with a tender caress. In honesty, she too took the breath from his very lungs. The Dark Lord was overcome with desire, his emerald eyes taking the young Jedi in; dark locks cascading in curls down her delicately carved shoulders, a waterfall of deep chocolate. Brandy eyes, pools of deep intensity, holding the secret of the burning desire and passion that burned farther within. They stood in silence, his darkness mixing with her light in a violent twist of nature. She began to tremble more under his gaze, the desire burning greater.
The Dark Lord reached his iron fist out before him, opened his clenched fingers and gently brushed aside the light linen of the woman’s night shift, her gaze followed as the topmost part of her bosom was exposed ever so slightly. Her mind went places she felt it should not go, a forbidden place that she fought so strongly to meet him in, yet fought equally as hard to retreat back to that which she felt was right. Love was forbidden. He was forbidden. Course fingers slid softly across the skin of her rising and falling chest, her breath catching as she felt the connection between them sparking to life as his skin touched hers. Her breathing quickened, as did his, his hand pressed against her chest, upon her heart. The fierce beat pulsating deep within his palm.
Should he wish, he could kill her in this moment. She knew not what made her feel so fragile within his presence, she, the woman who had been trained since fourteen standard years to be Sith, to heed the call of Darkness. Trained to seduce, hunt, and kill Jedi in their own beds. Here she was trembling in his presence as they stood in darkness, her heart beating within the palm of his hand. So vulnerable she was. He felt it, the young woman knew he did. Deep within he felt the darkness beat with longing to be set free, he had sensed it for some time. He was not feeling the beat of her heart, he was stoking the embers of darkness within her very depths. The Dark Lord would set it ablaze, in time. “You grow stronger every day, my beloved.”
His hand trailed from her chest, following the curvature of her slender neck, dancing across her jawline until her head succumbed and gave way, resting into the comforting firmness of his hand. “Why do you fight it so? Come to me, beloved. We shall reign eternal. You shall be by Queen and together, you and I shall rule side by side. Ruling the Sith with an Iron Fist.” He could resist no longer and his head dipped low taking up her lips with his own making his desires known. It was true, it was an ember that burned low, desiring to break forth into glorious flame and she was suppressing and squelching the power she knew was every bit a part of her as the blood that flowed through her veins.
The once treasured memory distorted like the crackling of a transmission slicing through with interference, in pulsating waves, each more intense than the last. They began again. The visions she had had since she was a young girl. There was a woman’s scream, an image of a mask flashed before her mind’s eye. A boy was running from...something. Something she could not make out. Flame roared to life, left before her was a man in a mask, almost as clear as day. Militaristic, clean, crisp, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders squared rigidly. The clearest she had ever seen him in all the years the visions had plagued her. Had she been anyone else she would have jumped back, instead her eyes turned to the sharpest of slivers as she took in every detail of the man before her, the scenery changed and she was standing on a barren, war stricken planet, in a crisp white uniform, to her right was the masked man, approximately 1.92 meters in height. His uniform, grey, crisp and freshly pressed bearing the Imperial symbol. To the left was a another man standing at 1.67 meters, his face unclear. Vesper’s gaze returned to the masked man, she nearly scoffed, her in the military, of all things. She was a Queen, not a soldier. A beat in time passed and the man turned his face to hers, “Lady Vesper…” He spoke. Vesper swallowed hard, his accent thick, an outstretched hand to touch his face and he was gone.
Even still, though fate would have it, on Dromund Kaas, still within the confines of Sith space; the visions would continue to assault the man in the mask. A young girl, twin sisters; golden blonde and deep chestnut brown hair catching the wind as they were running through the slums of Corellia. Their girlish laughter filling his ears. The sound of blaster fire. A thud and the image of a man lying front first on the durasteel floor taking one last look at his daughters as the life faded from him. The image distorted. The firelight flicker upon the stone wall could barely be made out as the shadows danced in blurred unison. A smack, that sounded much like skin upon skin could be heard, yet nothing could be seen. A woman’s scream. Ceremonial drums, reminiscent of the Sith, of times gone by. A woman, with her back turned, yet her stance clearly holding the air of regality. She began to turn to face him… the visions flickered away.
The vision. All of it. Gone in an instant. Vesper lips curled in irritation. It left her spat out back upon Ziost in the same place she had been in the snow the moment the visions had assaulted her. She instinctively bit upon her crimson lip and pushed the illusion aside, there was a task at hand and one task alone. To find the holocron. Lucky for Vesper she had found an alternative to being on this force forsaken frozen wasteland. The chances looked slim, but that would remain to be seen. The former Queen made her way up the steps and into The Citadel with caution. The stone walls told stories of years ago. Vesper stepped into the void and desolate space, her spare hand trailing along the walls; the remains of darkness showing her glimpses of the times she once knew, the conversations that had been hand. She had touched this place before, somewhere in another time. Even her footsteps barely echoed as she took each step. Turning a few corners with stealth like ease, the woman’s heart beat steadily within her chest, despite the uncertainty of each step she took. There. Just beyond were two large ornate and wooden doors. One of the twin adornments hung ajar allowing for an easy pass through. Vesper knew this chamber. This had truly been her fortress of solitude, a gift that had been given to her by the Dark Lord. Cloaking herself for ease with a simple illusion the woman slipped unnoticed into the room beyond. A quick sweep and the former Queen knew she was alone; half a million thoughts, flowing through her mind.
Brandy eyes scanned the darkness, not daring to light the room at the cost of drawing any armies or enemies that remained. A hollow emptiness howled through the chamber through a large outcropping where a pane of glass had once been. The planet’s moon trickled in like a silver fall giving the visitor enough light to determine that what was once the library she had been given, was now left in shambles. Ancient hardcover texts laid tossed carelessly upon the ground, scattered across the large, half a chamber long, tables that had replaced the more simplistic and elegant arrangements for comfort that she had chosen in her time of dwelling. Scrolls caught in the breeze and carried themselves lifeless across the room that smelled of death. In fact, the truth was death was all around. Her fingers trailed along one of the wooden tables, her gaze wandering around the room, her senses on high alert as she took in the despondence and emptiness. Vesper paused in her tracks as she encountered one of the many corpses that bled upon the parchments of paper that lie beneath the lifeless sack of flesh. With her free hand she grabbed the scruff of the dead man’s cloaks about his neck and drug him to the ground nonchalantly, the body sluft with a thud; Vesper never gave him a second thought. Curious. He bled upon the texts of Rur. Vesper, elegantly and with ease stepped over the corpse that now resided on the floor of the library. If she had a heart, it would be breaking. Yet Vesper’s heart had been lost long ago when the Dark Lord cast her down, banishing her from the Order, seemingly forever. A treasured solace, the place was now sanctuary to a bitter memory. A time long past. The Dark Lord was no longer here and that was quite clear to see. No sense dwelling on the past. Vesper knew why she had been awakened by the Dark Lord’s son. The Dark Lord had risen once again to power, to what extent was unknown to the former Queen, yet it was clearly not here on Ziost. That was something clear from the start, what had brought her to relive the once passionate memories, Vesper did not know. Yet it did not last long as the visions returned. Whatever was the catalyst for the dreams, these visions, these illusions, she had suffered from her entire life, she was getting closer, she could feel it. Her eyes closed for the briefest of moments.
On Dromund Kaas, the fragmented voices carried throughout the masked man’s mind in broken tones, “Yes, master.”, “Jaid, I want to go with you!”, “Solus…” The last was different, a woman. Was it the woman who haunted his visions? Whomever it was it echoed around him as if she stood directly behind him, beside him. The voices dissipated from his mind, reverberating within as they faded out.
The voice of the masked man echoed in her mind, “Lady Vesper?” Lashes brushed lightly upon the tops of her cheeks that showed signs of where the winds Ziost had took at so viciously. “Lady Vesper, are you there?” The image of the masked man returned as the question was asked. “We are taking fire, the battle is out of control… I have no contact with any of the main force.” Explosions could be heard in the background. Another and another, blaster fire peppered into the explosive thunder. Her comm chimed yet again. “Lady Vesper come in?” Another large explosion caused the masked man to disappear and again Vesper was left in the library of the Citadel, darkness had begun to fall and in the distance the lighting from the explosions and blaster fire could be seen through another one of the outcroppings, in addition to the fires that had been started.
Vesper raised a gauntlet clad wrist to bosom height and tapped the button that would open up the transmission to reply. “Upsilon Shuttle, this is Lady Vesper. The battle has shifted east of the main entrance of the Citadel. What is your position?” Her grasp tightened upon the saber that was still within her hand as she awaited the pilot’s response.
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Volshe
Administrator
.: Empress
Posts: 229
Likes: 163
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Post by Volshe on May 27, 2019 15:03:15 GMT -5
IC: Mehr
Carath Estate, Worker’s Quarters
Mehr was pulling on his leatheris gloves in the corridors, datapad under his shoulder. He clapped his hands together, swiping away any residue from yesterday’s mission to the kinrath caves.
He was supposed to be going to the spaceport, with four of the new hires Lord Carath had brought into the estate. But three of them were missing. That left some Duros - his name was...Gel-whatever - but not much else. The rooms were all empty at this point. All of them were intelligent enough to have been at their posts.
“Come on,” he said, directing the rather skittish Duros to follow behind him. He had been wringing his hands for at least twenty minutes while Mehr had looked for the others, and it was making even him nervous. “We’d better get going.”
They had opted to walk, the spaceport only about twenty minutes from their origin. The sun was hidden behind clouds, but the air was not damp with rain. The wind was as it usually was, the golden grasses fluttering in the gusts of breeze.
“Here.” He stopped after leading the Duros behind to the spaceport’s rear, opening a gate and then motioning to an overhang at the far wall. A small desk sat underneath. Various repair tools were scattered about its surface. Beside that were four landing pads for various shuttles. Two were occupied. A third was landing, finishing its circling above.
“All of you are getting off this shuttle immediately,” the commodore ordered, headache growing from the hours spent with the recruits. “The Federation doesn’t have all day, and neither do I.”
The few that listened to him nodded, the shuttle beginning its disorienting vertical descent.
Five minutes later, and the ramp was falling. Mirurem was one of a few Chiss, supposedly hand selected for the mission aboard the ship. Few of them were actually loyal to the Federation, few of them had any relevant background. A few of them were even from the Ascendancy, just as an alarming few of them were in bracers. But they had all certainly been in the wrong place at the wrong time, herded by Imperial Knights to a compound and then to the shuttle they were on now. The lucky ones were unbound, but none of them were particularly lucky.
“Who are they?” Mehr shouted, over the ship’s engines, a few of them stomping down the ramp to Dantooine’s surface behind the commodore.
“For Lord Carath’s workforce,” he replied, handing him a manifest. “Their names, their criminal status, homeworlds. Have at it. We’ve got another place to be.”
He returned up the ramp, his plump body sighing. “Alright! Get off, or the Knights are gonna drag you off!”
TAG: Mirurem (can't find your tag)
TAGSET: Dantooine
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Post by cliojayne on May 27, 2019 18:05:16 GMT -5
IC: Trin Location: Sinister Sith Temple, Korriban A spray of blood across her face from the decapitated Terentatek woke Trin once again. She grimaced inelegantly, thankful that her mouth had been closed before Darth Malos had ripped the beasts head off. Both her vision and her hearing were slightly better than they had been before she had passed out again, for surely only a few seconds, but not by much. Instead of being constantly doubled, her vision swam back and forth between single and double sickeningly. Everything appeared to be much darker than it should, as well. Or maybe it was night, it was hard to tell. The covering of gore that the noblewoman had received wasn't helping that sickened feeling either. As for her hearing... sounds were still delayed, and now seemed to come from a great distance or even from underwater. It sounded like Trill and Volacius were arguing over who was going to carry her? Then Volacius seemed to be done with it, and had knelt in front of Darth Malos. Still woozy, a short time in lessons at the Temple had drilled a few things into her. If someone else was kneeling to a higher ranked Sith and you didn't know why, it might be wise to kneel as well. Moving disjointedly like some kind of demented marionette, Trin pushed herself up the wall and then lurched awkwardly passed the cooling body of the Terentatek towards her party. One hand pressed to her broken ribs, Trin knelt awkwardly and abruptly in front of Malos, not at all her usual graceful self. A sidelong glance at the two Volacius' beside her showed him to be in fairly rough shape as well. Somehow it seemed that the apparently frail time lost woman had fared better than any of them. Hoping that the question of "Well, now what?" had already been asked, Trin waited to either hear or see activity from the others. darthkain7 , @queenjunko, volacius Tagset: Sinister Sith |
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Post by darthkain7 on May 28, 2019 1:12:34 GMT -5
IC: Darth Malos Sinister Sith Temple, Korriban Malos watched, amused, as Trill tried to order both him and the acolytes around. It might have just been the bump on his head, but he seemed to have missed the moment where this Rakatan relic had grown such a tremendous pair of balls. Unsurprisingly, Volacius and Trinaya deferred to his judgement, kneeling and asking what their next move should be. The display from the acolytes distracted Malos enough that he forgot to reprimand Trill, causing him to instead focus on their next course of action. Night was here, the darkness all the more oppressive due to the power of whatever rested in this temple. Perhaps it was simply an animalistic apprehension in his DNA, but Malos had a sneaking suspicion that it was dangerous to spend the night outside of one of these buildings. Part of him wanted to press on, despite the injuries. It wanted to do everything in its power to get to the main temple, and get this search over with. But another realized that he and the others were pretty banged up, and a night's rest was their best chance of getting out of this temple alive. The two sides argued relentlessly within his mind, causing him to release a small chuckle to help quiet the debate. They would have to rest, especially Trinaya; she was dead weight in this state. Across the way was still the mess hall, still intact unlike the smithy and library. However, on the other side of the smithy was what appeared to be barracks for the Sith that must have trained here eons ago. Malos had an uneasy feeling about both options, but there was no going around it; they would have to rest inside one of them for the night. "Before we get into that," Malos chortled, "can I just say…. what a rush!" "Seriously, proud of all three of you. Even you, Korriban's Next Top Fossil," he spoke, motioning to Trill. "Really held down the fort while I took a trip to La La Land."
"As for what we're doing…. we have to rest up before we can make it to the temple," he said with a shrug. "Much as I'd love to push on, I don't feel like dragging any of you to that temple. The blood trail would be sure to attract some nasty beasties along the way."Pausing for a moment to scratch his chest, he then went on, "We can either find a comfortable spot in the mess hall or we can try the barracks there. Not feeling good about either choice, but that's all we have. It's up to you all."
TAGS: @lordjania , cliojayne , volacius TAGSET: Sinister Sith |
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corinthia
Citizen
High Priestess Hesper / Jephego Rose
Posts: 45
Likes: 73
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Post by corinthia on May 28, 2019 2:16:15 GMT -5
IC: Jephego Rose
The Brigadier's Medbay
Jephego confidently followed the guidance of the blaster at her back; the familiar and homey environment of the ship's corridors was a small comfort amidst a wild and tumultuous time for brassy Jephego. She was still looking forward to the confines of the ship's brig, because at least there she would be relatively safe, however. Feeling the pure irritation radiating from the guard behind her, Jephego kept her head low. The journey to the medbay was a long one. The guard grumbled at her as he shoved her into the first of three turbolifts—and as she stood beside the visored trooper and sized him up out of the corner of her eye, she wondered if she had what it took to just knock the poor guy out and just stow away in another part of the large ship. Almost certainly she could—and absolutely had done so before. But she quickly dashed the idea. It was likely the medical center had been informed of her imminent arrival; simply disappearing into the bowels of the ship was a non-option. Exiting from the last of the turbolifts, Jephego was directed to the ship's rail jet. Grinning a bit, she steps aboard the railcar—she'd only been on one of these fancy internal transport things once before. And she had to admit, they were kinda fun. Even despite her current situation. Soon, they arrived at the medbay, much to Jephego's relief. They entered the room with the guard's rifle still firmly planted against Jephego's shoulder blade, and she was about to complain about it loudly given they were now at their destination, but then she caught sight of the medbay's physician. Instantly, Jephego's blood began to boil. She stopped short, and the guard behind her almost ran visor-first into her back. "What appears to be the issue?" A Zeltron woman wearing an immaculate white lab coat said in an incredibly direct greeting. Her perfect pink brow furrowed. Jephego blinked rapidly, hoping she wasn't hallucinating, but the pink woman before her didn't go away. There she was: in all her fuchsianess, exuding that awful beauty and charm that Zeltrons exude. Jephego was immediately thrown back to one hundred and ninety years prior to when the last thing she saw before a very, very long nap was the displeased face of her Zeltron nemesis, Yana Medine. Gritting her teeth, Jephego stepped forward as the trooper explained the reason for their visit. The Zeltron medic rolled her eyes, and Jephego was struck by just how similar the expression was to one she had seen many, many times from Yana. Jephego didn't like how similar this woman was to Yana. "Bloody Sith," she muttered. "Always acting like they own the place. Very well. Come along, then." The woman spoke curtly, and gave Jephego a very appraising look as she indicated an examination room they would be using. With her heated amber gaze lingering on the woman, Jephego began to move towards the exam room; her escort moved to follow, but was intercepted by the physician. "You won't be an issue if I ask the guard to uncuff you, I trust?" Jephego bit her tongue just before spitting out that she should absolutely not be trusted to behave. It would behoove her to allow them to take the cuffs off her wrists; and they were, after all, getting a little hot and heavy. She swore her wrists were probably starting to wrinkle like dried fruit under the wide metal bands. Jephego drily cleared her throat. "I will be on my very best behavior," Jephego said, her Zabraki accent suddenly feeling heavy in her mouth. "Pirate's honor." She winked as she felt the weight of the cuffs lift—then, her hands were free. Relieved, Jephego brought her hands before herself and rubbed her aching wrists, her gold bangles jangling as she moved. "Shall we begin?" Jephego asked, gesturing towards the exam room. Without further prompting, Jephego strolled into the room, expecting the physician to follow and leaving the guard holding her empty cuffs outside. Jephego plopped herself down on a chair inside the room, and folded her hands behind her head, stretching herself long and crossing her ankles. Oh, it felt good to be unbound. She smiled a wide, borderline manic smile.
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