The Old Sith Trials

IC Volacius
Location- Sinister Sith Temple, Korriban



The instructions flowed from the lips of Lord Malos to Volacius’ ears, and the brawny Mirialan quickly heeded them. He retreated, steadily making his way out of the barracks until he had positioned himself where the Sith Lord had designated, just outside the entrance. It was a good tactical position, as Malos had already explained. If their enemies were as brain-dead as they appeared, they would flow one-by-one. The young acolyte wasn’t thrilled about the choice to cut them down rather than completely annihilating them, but he was in no position to argue. Besides having already been given orders by his superior, he wasn’t entirely confident he would be able to unleash a blast strong enough to have the intended effect, even if he drew upon his pain to strengthen him.
Now in position, the Mirialan waited, both Lightsabers drawn and held at the ready. If he was going to be forced to hack away at them, two blades would be better than one, and if any of the undead managed to survive his first strike and moved to attack him, he would be able to cover himself and counteract it. He could feel the enemy approaching, the stench and unease becoming more potent the closer they came.
Volacius had fought many opponents in his life, many of which had been what others would consider terrifying, and he had done so without fear or hesitation. However, as he stood poised to strike at the reanimated corpses that were drawing nearer, trying his best to compensate for the discomfort his injuries were causing him, he couldn’t hold at bay the feelings of trepidation building inside of him. For the first time in years, Volacius found himself truly afraid.

Tags: darthkain7 , @queenjunko, cliojayne

TAGSET: Sinister Sith

IC: Jekyll/Hyde 
Location: The Tomb of Cognus

The old Dathomirian had shouted. "END IT!" But he need not have. Hyde having experienced battles before gave into her bloodlust, all sounds around her lessened as she focused on her opponent. Her vision got red as she jumped into the air, slightly hearing the command, she was already on her way to do it anyways.
Jekyll just realizing what Hyde was about to do tried to force his way back in control. No living thing deserves to be killed. He thought. But no matter what he tried her bloodlust was too strong for him to even budge.
The putrid green light saber came down on the arachnid as she intended to pierce it and rip it open with a scream of a warcry. "ALL  MY ENEMIES WILL DIE BEFORE ME!"

TAG: darthkain7,corinthia,Volshe,

Tagset: Tomb of Cognus 

IC: Tacite Occultus
Location: Dread Fortress, Oricon

As Voxyn went flying towards the wall, the crackling violet lightning stopped. Breathing heavily Tacite began to crawl to the exit, he had to get out of there. He had to get away from that thing. Something was seriously wrong and that device had to be the reason. He had to get away.
As he inched further and further away his mind got clearer but he still couldn't understand what was going on, he just knew he had to get away.

TAG: Darth Catalyst,darthvoxyn,Darth Voidwalker

Tagset: Oricon

IC: Dwomutsiqsa
Location: Illium's Quarters

It was fitting, Dwomutsiqsa thought, that an illusionist and former Nightsister had an avatar of deceit twisting and slithering so fluidly around her arms. She spoke with a facade of authority and, Dwom supposed, true authority. She proposed that they take revenge on Dathomir, comparing their motivation in this enterprise in a barbarously uncouth manner that seemed to contrast with her appearance, though Dwom warred with himself over whether her appearance was an illusion or not.

There's a disparity between exile and enslavement, which refused to impress Dwomutsiqsa at such a time. But Illium's proposal had calmed the tempestuous maelstrom raging within Dwomutsiqsa over the given subject,  allowing him to experience his normally placid inner-being though only for a moment. Dwom wasn't so ready to believe that Illium was incapable of betrayal, but he trusted her, even if that trust was only somewhat tensile, and he trusted his Emperor, whose wisdom Dwom had chosen to throw his fate on.

Dwomutsiqsa tied the red cloth to the crossguard of his sword before the last word had left the Miraluka's lips; it seemingly floated upon the current of concentrated Force energy that flowed around and through them. Unlike other Nightsisters, who believed two fingers connected to the forehead was all one needed to will a Nightbrother to be commanded -- the last one of which that had tried so was met with a vicious, goring headbutt from Dwom, but Illium asked, not commanded. Was it because she was different, or because she knew better? Neither mattered, all that mattered was that, like most elections, he truly had no choice in the matter; he had only an illusion of so.
The battlemage spoke, "You have my allegiance."


Tags: Darth Dreadwar , 
aureliaillium, corinthia , Chunran , darthvoxyn

Tagset: Dathomir

IC: Darth Feros
Swinging. But not from a Chandelier
Corbos

Feros watched as the beast tumbled away. He almost felt pained. Such a beautiful creation. Gone. But it was necessary. The beast had to die. And then he remembered where he was. Swinging from a jagged rock. And his bleeding hand was starting to lose its grip.

Feros planted his feet and pushed off. He leapt from the outcropping and tucked forward, landing shakily on the rocky ground. He felt Corvar speaking to him in his mind. "I need you to take point. Back the way you came."

Feros nodded and waved to the two of them. "Come on. Back this way. We need to hurry. All the force energy that damned thing unleashed is tearing this cave apart."

Feros took off at a sprint, only hoping the others would be able to keep up with his massive stride.

Darth Catalyst darthkain7 trentongordon

Ic: Chunran, Darth illiums quarters onboard the Brigadier, en route to the Quelii sector, hyperspace
The tension in the room was thick and suffocating, it was no wonder most people couldnt handle being in the presence of the Emperor for more than a few moments. Worse still was the ever chill that sunk into ones bones when the Emperor spoke , it froze you in place and laid all your worst fears to the front of your mind.

"Do you pledge your allegiance to me, your Emperor, no matter what may happen in the years to come? When you enter your throne as Queen Mother of Hapes, do you pledge to forever heed my commands at the expense of all others, with unquestioning faith and obedience? Do you place your loyalty in me, personally, above all other interests, even that of the Sith Order?"


The Chill as usual ran down Chunrans spine when the Emperor hissed his query at illium, the only reprive came from Illiums answer cutting through the Emperors dread speech and filling chunran with pride in his empire. As she stood their in her red gown and allowed her snake to twine its way around her hands her voice light and delicate and rather unsith like , yet she bore enough power that people new better than to say anything

“Yes, my liege. I place my allegiance, loyalty and faith in you, in your judgement and your, will no matter what fate awaits me. My blade, my arrows and my powers are yours to command. Your command shall reign supreme over all others, and my devotion lays within you alone, my Emperor. The Sith Order does not command my hand, the Emperor does. As you will it, than it shall be done.”

She spoke the words with a new found confidence Chunran hadnt heard before there was no hesitation or second guessing in her devotion. Now the Miraluka turned and addressed the Crowded room
“My friends...we have a throne to seize. It is the will of the Emperor Dreadwar that we fulfil this vital mission. First we shall seize Dathomir, slaughterer the witches and any other resistance that stand in our way and I shall reclaim what they have denied me. Dathomir is the 64th world to be added to the Hapes Consortum, a fairy recent addition and now a breeding ground for a coupe upon the Hapes throne at the Fountain Palace. I am of the Singing Mountain Clan, the same clan that in recent years has upon the throne of the Queen Mother. It’s is the Emperors desire that the throne of Hapes passes to one utterly loyal to Emperor Dreadwar, thus 55 muderders stand between us and the throne of Hapes. The last murder shall be the current Queen Mother, Amelia Chume. Than another Queen shall take her place, a witch of the Night. A witch touched by the Darkest of powers, which will cripple the minds and the wills of the court. We are bringing the Sith an immeasurable asset to the growing Empire!” she turned her gaze now, for she had something to say to each indivdual who would be joining them

“Chunran, Vitani, and Dwom….do you wish merely to kneel upon the floor or do you wish to stand and fight for our Emperor? Chunran...i sense it is battle and conflict that drives you….do wish to fight a greater battle than you’ve before known? Vitani, I don’t know you well but your not like most Hapans, perhaps if you will aid our cause you will show the Hapans how a true warrior holds herself and seizes her desires? Dwom, you’ve made your hatred for Dathomir little secret...well now we stand together, myself against a clan that exiled me, you against a matieracy that enslaved you. Now we both have a chance for vengeance. Do you wish to fight? To bring a new age to 64 worlds?” 
The Miralukian purred as she stroked the snake in her arms. Beside him the Zabrak Dwomutsiqsa spoke, pledging his allegiance to Illium and now Chunran would deliberate. He was certainly more than capable of the task at hand , heck he could slaughter the 55 wretched souls that stood in the way of this crusade by himself, yet he knew he still handt constructed his lightsaber, a fact that mentality held him back from reaching his potential, perhaps Chunran would find the necessary parts and inspiration while on Dathomir.
Coming to a decision Chunran allowed his voice to carry loud and clear
“Lady illium , my friend if you will have me my skill are yours to command. Let us take this throne eliminate the witches and bring order to the Empire.”
tags corinthia,Darth Dreadwar,aureliaillium,darthvoxyn,dwomutsiqsa

Tagset: Dathomir 

What lay beyond the Outer Rim, beyond Wild Space, was a dark and turbulent unknown. It lay in wait, sleeping with one eye open, watching as the insignificant sentients who had made themselves a comfortable home near the bright center went about their daily lives with blissful ignorance to the threat that lurked and crept at their doorstep. They did not see as the shadow began to take root in their lives, in the fringes of known space, and began to bloom into a dark and terrible flower. They did not see what was beginning to take shape in the far-flung reaches of the galaxy.

But on a seedy and remote colony asteroid almost 1,500 parsecs northwest of the planet Bakura, one woman watched.

The Sister— she saw.

Yet she could not name this threat; she could not describe it nor point at it in a crowd. It was yet shadowed and nameless. Faceless— for now. But still, she observed, waiting for a sign that would reveal to her a morsel more of the oracular mystery that she so wanted to solve. Something was wrong out there in the inky black of the Unknown Regions.

The Sister had been assigned to observe the asteroid station called Noko's Eye almost five standard years ago, under cryptic orders from the terrifying and enigmatic Emperor of the Sith himself, Darth Dreadwar the Magnificent. She was the type to keep to herself and stay well out of the way of others, preferring the cover of night and the safety of her bead-adorned tribal mask which hid her face. So truly, she was well-suited to the solitary work of surveillance such as the task she had been given by the Emperor. She well remembered the day she had been given her summons to speak with him.

Obsssserve for me, the Lord Emperor had said to her as she shook, having fallen to her knees in his horrible, staggering presence.

She was pondering that fateful assignment all those years prior as she was perched on the high-up sill of the one large window of the derelict apartment she had come to use as her outpost and nest. The one-room flat wasn't terribly small, but the Sister had filled it with curios and miscellany she had scavenged from the various inhabitants and wanderers of Noko's Eye— all the baubles and trinkets that were set out on ramshackle shelves or strung from the ceiling glimmered in the dim light of the perpetual night that Noko's Eye existed in, and made soft noise as they gently swayed. The asteroid station-turned-refugee camp was mostly comprised of tall, multi-level buildings built into the rock of one side of the asteroid, with a space port and "underground" complex tucked beneath; beings, for the most part, lived on the upper part of the asteroid, with a few cantinas and pubs sprinkled here and there, while the shopping arcades, vendors, night clubs, and a few far more licentious establishments took up the complex below.

The Sister had her knees pulled to her chest as she crouched on the sill, watching the crowds of sentients below make their way towards their sleeping-places. Her eyes, hidden behind her mask and even further obscured by the red cloth draped around her head, meticulously documented each strange and unfamiliar face she saw.

Sometimes, she felt like every single day she saw people from races she had never yet seen before.

The Sister extended one leg to dangle over the sill.

Then, below, two familiar faces: the pale face and hair of Volk Kroker, accompanied by the ashen face and luminescent green eyes of Sacarious Ithil Ulca. Her companions. Transplants from Korriban that arrived two or three months prior, perhaps sent to her aid to learn, or something. She resented but tolerated their presence in her sacred space and their obtrusion on her peculiar duty. The Sister had sent Volk and Sacarious away from her earlier in the day to find and purchase parts she didn't necessarily need for her long-range comms scanner; more than anything, she had just wanted them gone for a while.
But they were back, now. The Sister had told the pair she would watch for their arrival and meet them for their evening meal in the cantina two levels below her— the one called the Leaning Lantern. It was a shabby establishment, with peeling paint and booths with cracked seats. But its fare was edible and its drinks were strong, and the atmosphere, while rough, could be considered "inviting".

The Sister watched as Volk and Sacarious wound closer and closer to the entrance of the cantina; after a few moments longer, the Sister stood, picking up her lightsaber pike from where it lay beside her. Her height was quite diminutive, standing less than a meter and a half tall— but it served her well, for as soon as she had stood, she had stolen away into shadows, almost as if she were one herself. And swiftly, she made her way to meet Volk and Sacarious at the door to the Leaning Lantern.


Elliot Stormrunner was having a very bad, awful, no-good day; his perpetual luck had hit something of a snag.

His smuggling job had gone south, with the cargo lost and the compensation for damages he was promised withheld; and as if matters couldn't get worse, he was now laid up on some backwater asteroid station that looked like it was being held together with adhesive and sheet metal in the fringes of Wild Space, thousands of parsecs away from more familiar worlds like Endor or Rattatak. And probably with his latest client's cronies hot on his heels to demand their lost cargo, too. The Banshee's Wail needed repairs, credits were low, and his spirits were even lower— though he hoped it wasn't anything a little time in a cantina couldn't fix. Maybe he would get lucky, too. Maybe he'd find a new job in the corner booth of the cantina he'd just spotted down the street.

The streets of Noko's Eye were cramped and densely packed with transients and refugees of all shapes, sizes, colors, and strangeness. Elliot kept to himself as best he could, popping the collar on his coat and following the current of the crowd; J0-3Y, a BX commando droid and Elliot's companion, was following behind him, his keen photoreceptors constantly scanning their surroundings and calculating their best options for a quick egress. Brushing past alien species the likes of which Elliot had never seen before, he made his way closer and closer to the grubby cantina marked with a crooked neon sign that blinked with the words "THE LEANING LANTERN" in bright blue and acid green and, believe it or not, a tall, leaning lantern placed just to the right of the narrow entrance.

Smooth jizz could be heard emanating from the Leaning Lantern as Elliot quickened his pace towards it; though the music was obviously recorded and being pumped out of blown-out, tinny speakers, it was still a familiar and inviting noise. Reaching the door to the cantina at last, Elliot folded down his collar before ducking into the Leaning Lantern.

Once inside, Elliot had to push past a dense throng of bodies just to reach the bartop to order a drink and something to eat—J0-3Y still followed closely behind, like a shadow of metal. The Leaning Lantern seemed to be quite the popular little joint, and the small saloon was alive with a cacophony of both familiar and unfamiliar languages. Sidling up to the bar and stealing a barstool from a departing patron at the very end of the bar, Elliot Stormrunner plopped down, propped his elbows on the counter, and gave the curious-looking alien female (he assumed) barkeep a roguish, charming smile.


This was not Korriban. No, no, no, not Korriban at all.

Little Harold the Chitlik was very, very lost.

One day, perhaps ten standard days ago, Harold was following the delicious scent of caramel bang-corn from Harold's Chitlik community to the bustling space station on Korriban, where Harold found the ultimate, mother-of-all-caramel-bang-corn shipments. Oh, Harold was in heaven! Harold made a nest for itself amongst the tiny caramel clouds… but soon, the shipment was lifted up, loaded aboard a freighter, and sent away from Korriban. With Harold inside!

Many days passed for poor Harold. Many days were spent scurrying from one shuttle to another, trying to find a way back home to Korriban and the family and friends in Harold's wonderful little Chitlik community.

After a week, Harold had wound up on this awful asteroid-place. Here, the aliens were scary and foreign, and everyone looked tired and angry. Everything was crowded, and bang-corn was scarce.

At first, Harold was lost in the seedy underbelly of the station. Mean shop owners chased Harold away, big sentients ignored Harold or almost stepped on Harold, and big, sparkly sapient ladies cooed at Harold and tried to pick Harold up and snuggle Harold. No! Harold did not like that. So Harold scampered its way higher up on the asteroid, where Harold could find a hidey-hole to curl up and sleep in.

Lost and missing home, Harold followed its nose to the best, most tastiest-smelling establishment in the asteroid's topside. This place was just as busy and crowded as the rest of the station, but Harold was sure that it could find some delicious crumbs to fill Harold's belly there.

Darting through the door past a large and crooked tall lantern, Harold dodged big booted feet and climbed right up to the top of the cantina's bar, crouching sneakily behind a stack of dirty dishes piled at the very end of the long countertop. At last, somewhere safe and warm! And was that space waffles Harold smelled…?


In the service alley between the Leaning Lantern and the neighboring storefront, the Sister crouched patiently in the shadows. She could see Volk and Sacarious approaching, shouldering past all kinds of aliens as they neared the Leaning Lantern. Once the pair were close enough, the Sister rose and silently appeared between the two tall men, and entered into the cantina with one on either side of her. As they did most evenings, they took up their place in the far corner of the establishment, at a booth so dingy and cramped it was almost comical the way Volk and Sacarious had to cram their bodies onto the bench seat on one side of the table. The Sister could not read if the two men enjoyed each other's company or not— nor did she care. Flagging a waitress, the Sister demanded two plates of hot food in a helmet-modulated voice that sounded like she had been chewing rocks.

The Sister returned her attention to watching the crowds, ignoring her two companions. She watched an Ebruchi nudge aside another exotic alien; she watched as a rough humanoid man and an even rougher-looking Theelin woman clinked glasses and knocked back the contents; and she watched as an out of place-looking human male accompanied by an imposing BX droid entered into the cantina and sat at the end of the bar next to the bus tub overfull with dirty dishes. The Sister made a mental note. Humans like that one weren't very common in these parts— and the Sister was feeling a strong desire in the Force to speak with him.

She would have her companions approach the man, and ask him what his business on Noko's Eye was.

Reaching across the table, she jabbed Volk in the forearm with a gloved finger. "Volk," she said, her odd accent drawing out the "o". "Go speak to the human at the bar. Please. The one with the droid." Turning her masked face to Sacarious, she motioned for him to follow with a jerk of her head.

There were new faces on Noko's Eye every day, migrating in by the hundreds from unknown backwater worlds, making their way coreward towards the promise of a better and brighter life. This was one of the many things that the Sister noticed and reported back to the Sith homeworld of Korriban. When the refugee count grew, the Sister became more alert. And when she saw people who didn't look like they belonged way out here on Noko's Eye, she noticed that, too. This man, in his long coat, did not seem to belong out here… And the Sister wanted to know who he was.

When the representative of the queen said that they would provide a room for Elijah during his investigation, he never thought it would be more than a small bunk in small quarters. Instead, he found himself in a suite that would put most hotels on Coruscant to shame. Curtains of red wine beautifully opposed the white marble of the floor and walls. The bed was king-sized, and comfortable enough that Elijah almost did not want to leave it.
As the darkness of night drew over the horizon, following closely behind the light of day, Elijah paced in his quarters. Despite the gorgeous room and warm food, the Jedi Knight could not help but feel some sense of worry lingering in the back of his mind. The anxiety centered around the queen, but it was only enhanced by the looming darkness that Elijah felt within the Force. It was a familiar feeling; he had fought Dark Jedi in the past, and the dark side was always the same in every one. Of course, the entire mixture of their spirits were each unique, but the darkness remained the same.
It was this darkness that loomed, and it was why Elijah had to take a minor detour in this investigation. This queen randomly appearing on Kessel and this cloud of the dark side had to be linked. He felt it in his very soul.

Shaking Elijah from his trance was D4-Z3, rolling into the path of his pacing and chirping with concern. Stopping abruptly, the Jedi sighed, "It's nothing, Daisy. You should be in power saving mode by now."
The astromech whistled, pointing out that Elijah should be getting his rest as well.
"I'm fine," he assured the droid.
Even though it was impossible for D4 to make any facial expressions, Elijah could tell that the little astromech was not convinced. Rolling his eyes, the Jedi Knight gave a warm smile and patted D4 on the top of her freshly-polished exterior. "Go ahead and save your energy. I'll be asleep within a few minutes." To make his point, Elijah gave two claps, dimming the lights within the room for comfortable sleep.
D4 gave a beep of approval before rolling to the corner of the room, leaning forward a bit and powering down for the night. Elijah sighed once more, sitting upon his bed and placing his hands on his lap. Taking in a deep breath, the Jedi gave in to the Force, stretching outward.

The surface, and even below, of Kessel was teeming with life. But the further that Elijah reached downward, the more his skin crawled. The dark side had grown powerful here, and its sheer power made him uncomfortable on every level. Kessel was never the most pleasant place, but it was not this bad before. Had the Sith somehow gotten a foothold here? Was this queen a follower of the mysterious Sith from Korriban? He couldn't ask her, even if she was taking visitors. He needed to find out for sure, and as soon as possible.
Opening his eyes, Elijah gave a glance at the astromech before calling his lightsaber from across the room. Lazily catching it in his right hand, he attached it to his belt and stood from the bed, raising the hood of his robes. He was never a fan of lying, but he could not resist his duties for even one night.

IC: Vitani
Location: the Brigadier

One moment Vitani was kneeling and the next her face hit the floor hard, the crushing pressure on her back keeping her on the ground so she couldn’t get up. After a moment, the pressure was released and the Emperor commanded them rise.

"Do you pledge your allegiance to me, your Emperor, no matter what may happen in the years to come? When you enter your throne as Queen Mother of Hapes, do you pledge to forever heed my commands at the expense of all others, with unquestioning faith and obedience? Do you place your loyalty in me, personally, above all other interests, even that of the Sith Order?" The Emperor asked, his wraith like voice seeming to pull the heat from the area turning Vitani’s blood to ice. Illium responded yes as expected, who in their right mind would tell the Emperor no to his face. Vitani studied Illium as she gave her long winded answer to the Emperor, something was off about her appearance, Vitani was certain it was an illusion Illium was casting on herself to alter her appearance. Looking closely Vitani would see brief instances where her arm clipped through her clothes or her fingers sunk into the snake ever so slightly as if the snake wasn’t truly there. Having studied herself in the mirror as she altered her appearance for many hours growing up she recognised the signs though creating something else with these illusions to interact with is something she herself wasn’t capable of.

“Vitani, I don’t know you well but your not like most Hapans, perhaps if you will aid our cause you will show the Hapans how a true warrior holds herself and seizes her desires?” Illium asked Vitani as she addressed the group of them. “Do you wish to fight? To bring a new age to 64 worlds?”

“I’ll help, the Hapes Consortium needs a kick in the teeth and this way I can tie up any loose ends a missed before my brother and I left Hapan Space.” Vitani said with an even tone while continuing to inspect Illuims illusions, she was certainly skilled with her illusions. Just how skilled was the real question.

TAG: Darth Dreadwar  corinthia aureliaillium  dwomutsiqsa Chunran  
Tagset Dathomir

Time, for a brief moment, had lost all meaning. Battle, for survival, for victory, had taken minutes and molded them into what felt like hours. Trill had been brought to a knee, the weakness placed in her body by the Sith she now protected, forcing her to put every last sliver of her energy into maintaining the barrier. Trinaya thrust her glaive with icy ferocity that would not melt beneath the fires of stress and physical torment. Volacius stabbed and slashed with his lightsabers like a man possessed, fighting not only against the horde of undead, but too against his injuries and fatigue.
These men and women of darkness fought against the cold claws of death, pressing against their bodies' instincts to give in to the fatigue. Their bodies pleaded for rest, but were ignorant of the consequences. Their minds were overwhelmed with the pain of the body, wishing to do anything to stop this agony. But their hearts refused to die, and so did they.

Malos had not kept track of who had killed what, not even conscious enough to tell who had destroyed the last of the undead. But after what seemed to be an eternity, Malos opened his eyes to find a mass of corpses at the entrance to the barracks. A flick of the ignition switch on his lightsaber sent the citrine plasma retreating to its hilt, and the Sith Master admired the others to assess their wellbeing.
Trinaya, to his left, was on the verge of collapsing. Though the glaive was useful in keeping the undead at a respectful distance, it was far heavier to wield, and required much more of her energy. What little stamina her body had retained after their encounter with the Terentatek had finally been nearly drained in its entirety. But her heart pressed on, encased in a frost that was a tad bit unsettling to the maniacal Malos.
Volacius, to his right, was not in much better shape. He had used pure fury to sustain himself during the fight, burying any pain he had with a thick layer of rage. Now that he had nothing to focus such anger on, his pain began to claw past the now-thinning vexation, acting very much like the risen dead that he had taken part in slaughtering. Everything hurt now, and it would take more than he had learned as a Sith to keep standing in his condition.
But worst of all was Trill, whose barrier had disappeared the moment the fighting had ended. She had put every last drop of her energy into maintaining the barrier. What once could have been an easy task had become one of the hardest in her life. With nothing left for her body to run on, the proverbial tank beyond empty, Trill collapsed from one knee to her side, the warmth of unconsciousness cradling her into a sea of dreams.

The events of the rest of the night were rather hazy for the still-conscious Sith. Malos had done most of the heavy lifting in preparing the barracks for their slumber, moving the corpses just outside so they could actually enter the barracks again. He even carried Trill to her own bunk, not bothering to wake her up. Both Trin and Volacius and fallen asleep as soon as they hit their beds, falling into the deepest sleep that either had felt in quite some time.
Malos did not sleep.

Trinaya, Volacius, and Trill all woke at noon of the next day, each only minutes apart from one another. They all would see Malos sitting by the door, eyes still open and keeping watch. He seemed more solemn than usual. Perhaps feeling the trauma of the last few days, or perhaps simply feeling the effects of the lack of sleep.
The others would feel entirely rejuvenated, however. Their injuries had not healed entirely, of course, but the much-needed rest seemed to give new life to the three darksiders. Perhaps there was hope after all.

IC: Darth Solus
Location: The Citadel, Dromund Kaas

Dark energy flowed around the pair of sith, almost as if this was the dark heart of the planet. Stay focused. Solus’ attention returned to the computers. The flicker may indicate a lack of charge. The rest of the rooms fit that bill, this one may be the same. Solus’ hand drifted over one of the computers. Before a similar tactic opened the doors to get them to the sub pumps, To Nostrem. Solus shook away the thought and looked to the computer screens. Perhaps lightning will serve me again, as more than a weapon. Electricity danced across Solus’ form. His chiseled muscles hardening under his favored element. He loved the pulsing energy of lightning. Despite the torture is gave him in the past, it was the truest expression of Solus as a sith. It permeated into the aura that surrounded him, the aura that he suppressed now. For the mission’s sake he held back. Success was imperative. Lightning continued to dance over the sith. The eyes of his mask glowed lightly with the charged power. This time lightning will give life to the machine. With the conclusion of his thought he let a controlled charge dance into the electronics. Feeling the light pulsations of the limited life within them. Solus held control. Always, he held control. Hopefully the electrical charge could save the dying machinery.