The Old Sith Trials

GM update


Abandon Moon ~ Outpost

The battle lines were blurred as chaos fell upon the early day on this seemingly untamed and previously though desolate moon. The screams of battle and sounds of beings engaged in a life and death struggle rising in the early morning sun.

The line of warriors pushes, break through the thin line of Sith troopers while reaching the Republic troopers that had been dropped into the outpost.

Lylia has been swift in her movements, recognizing the situation and what she knew she had to do. Soon she was in the cockpit and ready to be rid of this place. The pilot she pressed a blaster to the head of was frozen in fear. His training and duty to the Republic and that of an Officer within the fleet overridden by the will to survive as he felt the cold barrel of the blaster pressed against his head. He moved quickly to toggle the ramp, triggering it to close in preparation for lift off. Simultaneously he began to fire up the repulsor engines to begin the lift-off sequence. With a lurch the shuttle was beginning to lift off.

Xxys emerged from the tree line, his speed augmented from his affinity to the force, his saber ignited and fending off blaster bolts. The confusion on his face evident as he came into the now broken lines of the warriors that called revered him. All the while he stared at the armor and uniforms of Sith troopers which he swore to fight alongside.

The dead were falling all around Kai, the bodies of the vigilant warriors and the chrome colored Sith troopers piling up as he called out to his combatants, Xxys and Lylia.

A Sith trooper lurched upon Xxys, the trooper was already in close proximity and he fired two quick blaster bolts. At the same time another Sith trooper had reared up and targeted Xxys stabbing at him with a vibro knife from behind. In front of Xxys one of his warriors was rocked by several blaster bolts as he jumped in front of the ones aimed for him, the smell of blaster charring flesh quickly rising. Though there was no reprieve from the assault on thew Sith Apprentice as several more blaster bolts were fired at him. A detonator went off nearby sending a concussion out from it.

Kai was caught in the melee, as from in front of him a warrior raised his spear intent on impaling him, and from behind a Republic commando charged forward with the intent to tackle him as he tried to break into a run and escape the melee.

Lylia could hear the rumble of the shuttles engines roaring to life, and clearly see the horizon slightly above the trees as the nose of the shuttle began to raise up.

Reiis Invadator , Darth Xxys , darthkain7

IC: Kai Erlae

A warrior set to impale him to a bloody death. A commando charging to keep him in the fight. The stench of blood and death filled his nostrils, overwhelming his thoughts. He dodged left, then right, managing to evade the men who pursued him as the sounds of the battle screamed in his ears. Yet as a detonator shook the earth upon explosion, it seemed, too, to shake Kai to his very core, sending him on a short flight into a tree. It was his horn that hit first -- the cracked on -- sending a pain shooting through his skull and back so fiercely that he nearly fell unconscious from the agony alone. He vomited on himself as he collapsed in a trembling heap on the ground, barely holding himself up as he shook uncontrollably, his nervous system bucking at the extreme pain of the ruptured horn and nerve endings. He could see the base of the horn, separated from his body and lying just in front of him, bloody with ripped skin and hair follicles jutting in a tangled mess from it.

Tinnitus began a pulsing beat that filled his brain, and soon he lay in his own vomit and blood, forehead resting against his bloodied horn as the sounds of the battle faded against the chaos in his mind. He could still feel the concussive blows of bodies falling and detonators blasting, but even that would fade within seconds. Soon, all had become dark within him. The only stimulus outside of his own agony was the body of a warrior, shot in the head. He was dead before even touched the ground. And the body flopped upon Kai, sprawling over half of him like an overgrown seastar. The impact jammed Kai’s head into his horn, which had the opposite effect this time. Suddenly, all that had been muted screamed in loud clarity once more, and Kai would be so uncomfortably returned to the land of the living. But it wasn’t the same. Something...something within him that he himself didn’t understand -- something he never realized he had….

Rage.

Blinding. Furious. Rage.

He rose with a terrible roar, causing some of the nearby troopers and warriors to back away in terror. The curse of all Devaronians -- they appeared much like the devils and satans of far too many cultures. A particularly gutsy warrior was the first to lunge, spear forward in a daring strike to Kai’s back. Kai twisted, swiping a thick hand and deflecting the spear to the side. The warrior would only reach a horrified realization until it was too late, when Kai had ducked and impaled the man on his remaining horn. He dipped down to deposit the body, but he certainly wasn’t finished. The Devaronian swept forward in a raging tirade of bloodlust, bashing in the faces of those who passed too close with his clawed hands, biting down on limbs and flesh without consideration for side or rank, and impaling all he could with his horn. The flow of blood not belonging to him would soon surpass his own leakage, quickly turning him into a bloody red devil, eyes gleaming in a mindless rage and taking the next victim as soon as they made that fatal mistake.

TAGs: dragonsith13, darthkain7, Darth Xxys

IC: Dwomutsiqsa
On Dathomir

Behind his black mask, Caracalla hissed, "Show yourself, Illium. Perhaps they will recognize you."

Backstory is always lovely, thought Dwomutsiqsa, Despite his animosity toward the Nightisisters, he held none for the Singing Mountain Clan, having found a peaceful connection to the Gargoyle and the Gryphon upon the mountaintops. Remembering their appearance, ragged robes and earthen hues, invoked a memory of his time near the mountains.

Wrapped in black robes dirtied brown and green from the harsh embrace of the forest, he arrived at a river leading to a waterfall. Only knee-deep, it seemed simple to cross. But he knew better than to take anything at face-value. He closed his eyes and entered the spiritual realm, the Dark. He watched the pale moon take on a green hue within his Heartshadow. The forest came alive in shades of vibrant green, red, and gold. He looked upon the waterfall and the river before he needed to cross. Had he crossed without the spiritual sight granted by the night magick, he might have stepped on a stone fish, an invidious little creature that takes the camouflage similar to that of a, of course, a stone. When stepped upon, dorsal spines would shoot out and inject a Dark Side venom that corrodes the flesh. But within his Heartshadow, they glowed a refulgent magenta. He crossed a minefield of acid before he was granted a reprieve from the power he despised so greatly. Or perhaps it was only the affiliation that he abhorred. Nevertheless, upon leaving Dathomir, he vowed never to use magick again or any power associated with the Sisters.

But to him, vows were barely worth even making. Like honor, they served only as shackles to the strong but foolish.

Jephego was well-hidden and clearly no stranger to stealth tactics. She was also zabrak, a hardy species, so he kept her out of mind, to an extent. Illium had already given her speech on the nature of life, and knocked her arrow. Thus, leaving the sword and scabbard on the ship, confident in the material that it was made from, he exited in parade stance, using the placement of the hands to conceal the sparkle of neon green electricity and the lanvarok upon his left forearm. There is no such thing as good or evil. Only different viewpoints. He felt the boiling of ichor that flowed throughout every Nightisisters's veins, just as it did his. Illium wanted to fire, he thought. But she wouldn't, as there would be more soon, if not watching them at this very moment, and two dead would make their trip much harder than it needed to be. Would she? He pondered slightly on the usefulness of Heartshadow once again, while keeping a succinct focus on the here and now. With his songsteel helmet, they wouldn't know he was a Nightbrother. A Nightsister followed by a Nightbrother would have had a disturbing effect on the psyche of the Clan members, he assumed, pushing their tribalism to deeper extents.

Where was Chûnrân and the assassin?

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

IC: Vitani 
Location: Dathomir

Vitani let the others get up and exit the shuttle before she got up and followed. Outside the shuttle the group was met by two of the natives who didn’t seem too happy to see them. She kept one hand near her lightfoil as the natives spoke, just incase the situation escalated. Illium had an arrow knocked but her bow was lowered as she spoke to them though her speaking sounded like a load of incomprehensible questions to Vitani, if the questions actually meant anything Vitani had no idea.

TAG: aureliaillium dwomutsiqsa Darth Dreadwar corinthia Chunran 

tagset Dathomir 

The golden jewelry skittered towards the youngest of the pack with extreme fervor, as if its life depended on it. Yet, before it could even get close, one of the others stood in the way.
Trinaya Dur.
The Zabrak defended the boy, striking at the locket on the floor with a slash of her lightfoil. Despite what Trinaya believed, this locket was certainly not indestructible. The precise strike with the blade sliced the chain of the locket in two, and then a powerful blast of Force energy from Volacius sent it flying down the hall… right into the now-open doors to the throne room.

"That door wasn't open before now, was it?" Malos asked, wiping a thick layer of sweat from his brow.
The room was entirely filled with darkness, a black, ethereal wall that lied just beyond the light that invaded the doorway. The locket was nowhere in sight, nor anything else for that matter. An unnerving cold crept out of the room, simultaneously warning away the intruders, and begging them to come meet their doom.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Damian murmured.


TAGS: cliojayne, volacius

IC NOBODY
Citadel, Dromund Kaas 

Information poured through the screens inconceivably quickly for such an ancient computer. It seemed like it was implausibly prepared for such an emergency boot. As more data flooded the screen, a small holoprojector came to life next to Solus. The image of a female near-human Jedi flickered into existence. “I have to be quick. The atmospheric storms disrupted our systems when we landed, so we hit pretty hard. We can't leave. We can't take any of the transports in the hangar because... There are people... they're not people... Their aggressor response increased... beyond madness. They've become...they've killed most of us... I won't live to report this, and haven't got power to... people have to know...” A guttural screech blasted from the recording and the girl ignited her lightsaber in response. “The Phobis Core... Fight or flight… That’s all I can make of it.” She cut down a figure that had rushed into view briefly. It looked vaguely humanoid. “We wanted to study it… For the Republic… But it’s too dangerous.” She sliced through another pair of figures. “Must be destroyed… The Dark Side… All around it… No.. no!” She continued hacking as more of the offscreen aggressors charged her, eventually succumbing to the wave of bodies as they began tearing at her robes and flesh. The projection cut to static, and it was eerily quiet in the chamber again.

Deleritas’s steps were careful, but he did not see anything in the floor that spoke of an obvious trap. An increasing sense of dread washed over him as he made his way closer to the floating object, paranoia that at any moment a misstep could cause both his and his Master’s demise. Surprisingly though, his path remained unheeded. The dodecahedron floated in front of him, pulsing faintly from within at a rate that seemed to match the beat of his heart. Its glow was transfixing, and it silently beckoned Deleritas to look deeper. Blurred images appeared to be projecting onto the surfaces from within the core, but Deleritas would not be able to tell what they were without a closer look.

As the computers completed their boot-up sequence, Solus would be able to see a terminal that looked like the primary control unit. It contained a jack that a droid could plug into for manual access and various gaps in the panels revealing drives and disks. Which one was the one he wanted would be impossible to decipher without poring through centuries worth of information. Near the holoprojector, another disk struck his eye, being noticeably newer than the rest. It stood to reason that this was how the Jedi in the recording had left her story available to those that came after her. Solus would not be able to study further without interruption, as he could feel the pull of the object his Apprentice was approaching lessen on his mind. A now-familiar screech echoed in the corridors of the Citadel. Then another. Time was now a critical factor.

TAG: Darth Solus,Deleritas,

IC Trin and Volacius

Location- Sinister Sith Temple, Korriban



Trin was surprised to feel non larger blowback from the locket, something so powerful shouldn’t have been so easily hit, should it have? Her eyes followed the metallic flash as it moved into the oppressive and unnatural darkness.



“That door wasn’t open before now, was it?” Malos’ words seemed to almost fade into the icy darkness seeping from the room.

Swallowing, mouth and throat suddenly dry with apprehension, Trin replied in a soft voice,

“Nope.”



Volacius took an extra moment to notice where the locket had flown, his focus on simply removing it from their presence temporarily overshadowing any concern for where exactly it would actually end up. The Mirialan eyed the open door and the void-like blackness within with a wary gaze.



The cold emanating from the room was… wrong. It wasn’t the right kind of cold. Trin embraced the blizzard and ice she had come to rely upon in the last day that felt so much like months. Building up icy layer upon icy layer to prevent the darkness from touching her soul, if she could. It’s lure was both repulsive and irresistable.
She nodded her horned head in agreement with Kento’s sentiment. Nothing good could come of following the odd locket into the dark. Literally nothing. Trin felt the books nestled against her chest, weighing heavy in her shirt. Knowledge to be gained and grown if only they made it out of here alive. A child rescued for the good of the Empire and a threat discovered on their very own doorstep if only they survived. They really should turn away and try to get the doors leaving the temple open but…


“In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose.” Trin looked around to her companions, evaluating where they were at. Beaten, bruised, psychotic, susceptible mind control, but they had a lot of heart. “Let’s finish this so we can go the kriff home.”



“Agreed,” Volacius responded, though whether his idea of ‘finishing this’ was the same as Trinaya’s didn’t even begin to cross his mind. Rather than walking toward the darkness, Volacius promptly strode over to the exit, igniting his Lightsabers and striking the door blocking their escape to see just how durable it was.



Watching Volacius, hands still on weapons, the acolyte’s other senses still stretched towards the door. “Not quite what I meant… but I guess we can know if our exit is blocked before flinging ourselves into the abyss?” Trin's voice was an odd mixture of bemusement and growing terror as she watched her friends attempts.



Tag: darthkain7, volacius
Tagset: Sinister Sith

It became quite clear what metal the doors were made of when Volacius' blades struck them. Where one would normally find the fiery scars of plasma burn, there would be nary a scratch on the doors. And as for Volacius' lightsabers, the blades immediately shorted out upon contact.

Damian was not as eager to throw away his life, it seemed. "Wait a second, there must be some way we can get past these doors, Master Malos. We can't face Quetzu alone!"

"And why can't we?" Malos asked, obviously annoyed. "We've got two of the best damn acolytes on Korriban here, a young prodigy if your reputation precedes you, and a pretty handsome Sith Master, too. We'll be fine."

"Master, I-- I don't want to die," Kento spoke, each word growing softer as he struggled to withhold the tears that were simply forcing their way out of his eyes. "I don't want to go."

If Damian Kento had lived another life, one where he had been taken in by the Jedi rather than the Sith, perhaps he would have been listened to. Perhaps he would have received a gentle hand on his shoulder, and a verbal lesson on doing what is required of you from a kind Jedi Master.
But he lived among the Sith, and as such, was not entirely shocked when a sickening backhand struck him across the cheek.
He held the cheek in a vain attempt to quell the pain, looking up at the man who had given it to him. Malos did not appear angry, or even uncaring. Darth Malos was amused.
"You may just be hitting puberty, kid, but do us a favor and grow a pair of testicles," chuckled Malos, turning towards the others. "Are you two ready for this? I have a feeling this might be a one-way trip once we step through those doors."

TAGS: cliojayne, volacius

IC: Reaper
Location: Corbos

After he had began his way towards the ship he could see the ship in his view begin to stall and he smiled at the thought. The droid had a sick sense of humor. He kind of liked that about the droid now that he knew. He saw the ramp open and so he accelerated forward heading straight towards the ramp. As he flew in he slowed to match the ships speed and set his TIE down finally turning it off he radioed D-3P0 to close the ramp.

As the engines whined down to a halt he exhaled. He hadn't found anything much to his disappointment. But oh well. He would lay back and close his eyes while sitting there. It was his greatest possession as of yet. But it was damaged. He'd repair it in time. Or replace it. He didn't know yet as only time would tell. He simply closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep as the ship went into hyperspace and dreamt a dream. A dream that felt more real than reality felt. One that spoke to him on many levels. He dreamed of the past and of the present as well as the future. He dreamt of the past of the TIE's history all that was good and bad and he felt like he was there.

Tag: Darth Catalyst, darthkain7

IC D-3PO
Hyperspace, En Route to Nar Shaddaa 


The freighter dropped outside of Hyperspace at Nar Shaddaa and D-3PO jolted awake. He radioed back to Reaper, Corvar and Feros. “We have arrived at Kubjo’s space station,” his voice echoed through the ship. “There is some unexpected company here as well.” Outside the viewports, D-3PO could only be referring to the Pellaeon class Star Destroyer that was commanding a portion of the sky. “Friends of yours perhaps, Mister Feros?” A button on the console began flashing. They were being hailed.



On the other end of the freighter, Brooke screamed. She could feel darkness, hatred and rage. It stabbed through her mind and eclipsed her vision. She curled up in the corner and cried into her knees. She wasn’t ready to go back to being a prisoner. Then a sudden calmness washed over her. Her jaw slackened, and she went limp, knocked unconscious by her own mind.



D-3PO pressed the button and static shrouded the viewport, before the image of Darth Maladi appeared onscreen. “Feros,”she purred menacingly, “it’s so good to see you. I wanted to ensure your delivery wasn’t damaged, so I dispatched a small portion of the fleet to greet you here. Doesn’t it just make you feel welcome? I understand you have some unfinished business with the resident slug in power, so I will be waiting patiently while you deal with that. Just say the word though, and I shall send a strike force in to extract you and dispose of the Hutt.” She smiled sweetly. “I’ll be waiting, Feros.”


In Reaper's room, the chiming of his comlink rang loudly, notifying him that someone had sent a message. It was a simple line of text, but a chilling warning nonetheless. 

Someone offered me a lot of money for your mask. Make it worth my while. -K



Corvar, in his preparing for departure, would have his own unexpected happening. At the very back of his mind, he would feel a tingling sensation. It was alien, yet somehow familiar. It embraced his consciousness in a cold, yet somehow comforting hold. As suddenly as the onset began, it ended, leaving only emptiness and a lingering wisp of a memory. The memory contained a whisper that remained unspoken, but echoed in his mind louder than the screech that Brooke had let out only moments before.



“Come home.”

TAG: darthkain7, trentongordon

The sudden rattling of the ship as it exited hyperspace left Corvar feeling uneasy. It was a sensation he should have grown accustomed to by now; after all, he had been living on ships for a majority of his life. But there was a peculiar nausea that came this time, as if he were still an infant boy feeling his first hyperspace journey. It took a moment to shake this feeling, to calm his nerves and force logic to overrule whatever innate queasiness had taken hold of him.
Thankfully, the words of the protocol droid had done wonders in that effort, snapping Corvar back to reality. Though there were no viewports from his quarters, a mention of Feros' "friends" and a lingering sense of darkness in the general vicinity made it clear that the Empire had come to Nar Shaddaa.
Then, muffled by the walls of the freighter, Corvar could hear a terrified scream. One that could only belong to the frightened Miraluka. He shook his head, knowing that she was reacting to the presence of the Sith. If she was going to have an episode every time she encountered someone of significant power in the dark side, she was not going to last very long if they reached Korriban.

Then something changed.

Before Corvar could even gather his thoughts, so that he could join the others in the cockpit and begin the next stage of his life, the darkness he felt had been… altered. No, not altered. It had been buried by something else.
A shiver crept down his spine like the slithering of some foul serpent, starting at the base of his skull and traveling down, yet never leaving his body once it reached down into his toes. It was similar, but different, to what he had felt on Corbos. To compare, on Corbos it felt like receiving a message via holoterminal. Sure, you would hear the words and see the messenger, but here… it was like speaking in person. That is, if this sensation could be translated to words.
It was wrong, like some sickening anathema that Corvar had never known existed. Yet the unnatural felt natural, the alien felt native. It wrapped around him, enveloping but not constricting.

His father's arms held firm, refusing to let go for what seemed like eons, yet only lasted moments. Hassan's eyes met his, and Corvar saw fear. It was strange. He had never seen his father afraid.
"What's wrong?" Corvar's voice squeaked, cracking as his vocal cords remained in the all-too-relatable limbo of puberty.
"We have to move. Now," the Twi'lek replied.
"But the sandstorm--"
"Kark the sandstorm, boy. There's--"
The doors opened, revealing the monsters that would ruin his life. Hassan did not hesitate, firing his blaster thrice before taking Corvar's arm and tossing him under the nearest booth. The precious wasted seconds cost him a blaster bolt to the shoulder, but Hassan did not waver long. He returned fire, taking cover as the screams of the other patrons rang out among the sound of blasters firing.

This invisible embrace was familiar, yet not nearly as warm as the one he had received from Hassan moments before his father's untimely death. In fact, it was freezing, as if death itself had decided to cradle him in its arms.
It was not until the feeling had left him that he realized how comforting it had been. He had not felt this emotion in over a decade, and it was not something he could let slip through his fingers. Corvar rose to his feet, desperately pacing in a vain effort to find the sensation of affection once again. But it was gone, leaving an even colder emptiness that not even the fire within could defeat. The only trace of its existence, beyond the memory, were the unspoken words that were carved into the wrinkles of his brain.

Come home.

He did not know what it meant, nor did he know who had sent the message. But it had been received with utter clarity that technology could never afford. And it was a message he would heed.
Satchel of items on his belt, next to his lightsaber, and the sword of the Jedi on his back, Corvar had dressed himself in a dark bantha leather jacket, with black jeans and a matching undershirt to boot. With his scruffy appearance, as a result of a lack of a shower after scouring an abandoned mine and then fighting a Leviathan, he would blend in well with the crowds of Nar Shaddaa. Save for, of course, the sword of Jen-Sin Caal.
Fully prepared, and ready to confront his destiny, Corvar finally left his quarters. It was time.



Unlike the others, Feros had elected to remain awake for the few hours it had taken to return to the smuggler's moon. It was rather uneventful, but he had spent far longer doing far less in the past. As such, he had been left alone with his thoughts, on this mission in particular.
It had started off, well, rocky would be an understatement. Having to kill those smugglers was messy, but necessary. It was a shame that they'd missed one, and because of it, they were now missing another. Feros shook his head at the foolishness of his compatriots during that situation. Reaper had been so focused on capturing one of them, for whatever reason, and had grown reckless. Corvar had been too compassionate, trying to reason and bargain to such an extent that it resulted in nearly getting himself killed.
No matter. They had grown between then and the fight on Corbos, and they would be forced to grow even further under the teachings of the Sith Empire. If they did not, then they would die. A shame, but it would be their own fault for such a fate.

When the freighter dropped out of hyperspace, Feros was certainly expecting some small measure of Imperial presence, such as a small cruiser. But to see a Star Destroyer in orbit… it left Feros in utter shock. Was such a massive welcoming party necessary?
D-3PO suddenly awakened from his slumber, immediately informing the others of their arrival and of the Empire's attendance. “We have arrived at Kubjo’s space station," the droid said. "There is some unexpected company here as well. Friends of yours perhaps, Mister Feros?”
"You could say that," Feros muttered, quickly noticing that they were being hailed.

Before Feros could even answer the call himself, 3PO did so for him. A holoimage of Darth Maladi appeared once more. She seemed… amused.
“Feros, it’s so good to see you," she spoke, her tone hiding none of the malice that her words were laced with. "I wanted to ensure your delivery wasn’t damaged, so I dispatched a small portion of the fleet to greet you here. Doesn’t it just make you feel welcome?"

"I am honored, my Lady," Feros replied quickly. What are you playing at, Maladi?

"I understand you have some unfinished business with the resident slug in power, so I will be waiting patiently while you deal with that. Just say the word though, and I shall send a strike force in to extract you and dispose of the Hutt.”

"I will keep that in mind should the need arise, my Lady." Yes, I would love to hear how I could not handle an overgrown slug on my own for the next decade.

She smiled with the sweetness of a jogan fruit, but Feros knew that within the fruit was some heinous arachnid ready to burrow into his flesh should he take a bite. “I’ll be waiting, Feros.”

"We will not keep you any longer than we must. You have my word," said Feros.

It was then that Corvar entered the cockpit, looking absolutely revived after his short nap. Not many could look so well-rested after such a short time, especially when they weren't trained for it. Such was one of the many lessons Feros had to endure as a young acolyte. At least Corvar would have a leg up in that department.

"Are you ready?" Feros inquired. "Once we drop this sword off to the slug, we'll be meeting my master. I need your word that you will be on your best behavior."

Corvar smirked. "I'm not the one you have to worry about."

TAGS: Darth Catalyst, trentongordon, darthferos





Lylia stared into the hollowed eyes of the trooper's skull, her mind failing to register the sudden change of her surroundings until she focused her scattered thoughts. It was as if she had been transported to the past, and the gods hit the fast forward button just to spite her. She was revolted, not only by the ancient corpse before her, but also by the precedence of what just occurred.

She did not know.

Stumbling out of the shattered remains of the shuttle, nearly tripping on a vine as she made her way into the clearing, she found herself in the shadow of the great outpost, which had been so far in the distance only the day before. What brought her here, and how? She had never sleep-walked before. Hell, she had never even sleep-talked before. The others, Xxys and Kai, were in her sights. Maybe the Sith had some idea?

Slowly approaching the Sith warrior, massaging her aching arms, she muttered, "What the kriff happened? Was it a dream?"

TAGS: dragonsith13, Darth Xxys, Reiis Invadator

“Straighten up,” Volacius spoke to the boy, “If we survive this, if you survive this, it will only prove to be an asset for you later on.”

That's if I survive, Damian repeated in his mind. But he would not dare speak out once again. It seemed that even with the Sith of Dreadwar being more amenable than Darth Quetzu, they were still Sith all the same. He stayed quiet, nodding his head at Volacius' attempt at steeling his nerve.


Darth Malos took in a deep breath, turning towards the dark, empty doorway that lied between them and certain death. Disregarding the voice of reason in his mind, the Nagai stepped forward, then again, and again. The others followed their leader, delving into the darkness of the unknown that was the throne room of Darth Quetzu.

Once they reached the edge of the darkness, Malos stopped. His eyes could see no further, nay, not even with the Force could he peer past the veil.
Kento was beyond frightened at this point, fearing that Quetzu would have some foul, undead creatures spawn from the darkness and pull him towards the awaiting, cold hands of death. Despite his lack of proficiency with one, he desperately wished he had a lightsaber at his side. At least then he could keep the undead at bay.
This damnable darkness did not seem to relent. Seconds of eternity passed, driving the mad Malos to impatience.

"We're here, you son of a bantha. Come and get us!" he shouted, igniting his lightsaber and standing firm.

As if on queue, light sparked across the room as torches along the walls and columns sprang to life, crackling fire illuminating their surroundings. The walls were of painted stone, the golden paint chipped away by eons of uncare. The marble floor had been cracked in several locations, and what once could have been windows were distorted and painted with the blood of his followers.
Braziers illuminated the throne itself, and the creature sitting within it.


Hair of gray corn husks protruded from the golden crown, covering the decrepit facial features of a man pushed far past his physical limits. He wore robes of crumbling black, with the faded metal of ancient Sith armor peeking from beneath the sea of darkness swathed around him.
Darth Quetzu sat in his throne, leaning forward as he admired the golden locket that snaked between his decayed fingers.
A raspy voice that carried unnaturally far greeted the interlopers, though the sunken eyes of Quetzu were still entirely focused on the locket.
"You found her," the Sith King spoke, his words showing emotion not expected from a walking corpse. "After all this time, she had simply transferred her spirit into her locket. I never would have allowed those disgusting Jedi to steal it had I known."

The eyes of Darth Quetzu finally fell on the Sith. "I had intended to kill you all for daring to steal away my next vessel. But this…" he raised the locket, "you have given me a chance at happiness once again. As thanks, I have a bargain.
"Damian Kento stays, as does Trinaya Dur, for they will serve as vessels for the rightful King and Queen of Korriban. Malos and Volacius may leave with their lives, and when we raze Dreadwar's forces and end his pathetic attempt at an Empire, you two may serve as lieutenants in our kingdom. This is my offer, and the extent of my mercy. I recommend you accept."

TAGS: cliojayne, volacius