Forum is undergoing some back-end transfers and updates, please be patient if the forum is down or loading slowly!

Game ⚜️ Knights of the Eternal Empire: The True Sith Trials ⚜️

Omegon

Well-known member
IC: Pythonus

Location: Forges within the Aximand’s middle decks


A good suit of armor needs a weapon to fit it. Not a dagger, not a tool, but a true blade. A spear of vengeance, to bring justice for those who Omegon had lost. The shaft would be of durasteel, made from some of the last surviving metal from coruscant: melted down cargo fork-lifters, abandoned in the hangar in the rush and panic of planetary destruction.


Taking three bands of metal taken from the lifter, Pythonus dumped them into the melting vat over the fires, watching the metal heat, soften, and slowly bubble into a liquid. Pythonus mixed the metal, stirring into it ashes from his crew, blood taken from his own veins, and sacred oils, sanctifying the metal in its purpose. Tipping the vat, he dumped it into the cast, sending the scalding metal pouring into the trench.


As it cooled, Pythonus beheld its beauty. The mold had been beautifully designed, with a relatively plain shaft, with scales, hooks, and sigils anointing each end, slots left for the missing blades. Taking the shaft out, glowing cherry red, Pythonus handled it with a protective glove, dipping it into the vats of blood to cool it. Blood erupted from the vat in vapor form as it evaporated, but Pythonus refused to pull it out until it was fully cooled, bearing down through the heated steam and shielding his face with his other hand.


Withdrawing it, Pythonus saw that the metal had taken a jade green hue, reflecting light in a beautiful, almost ethereal manner.


But the blades would not be forged of ordinary durasteel. Taking from a sealed safe two silver edges of ostrine, Pythonus examined them. Omegon had obtained them when raising pirate dens for Lord Kain, hunting the scum of the galaxy and liberating them of their riches. And now, they would serve as his spear blades, carving through enemies of the empire. Taking a hammer to each edge, he shaped them into twisting hooked blades of death, emanating a terrible cold as he chanted and dipped them into the blood. They came out covered in frozen and crystalized ichor, and Pythonus grimaced as he cleaned them off. Slotting each blade into place at either end of the spear, he also inserted a small canister of compressed poison on either end, inside the shaft. A flick of the spear sent poison out over the blade, covering it with a layer of frozen deadly fluid. When stabbed into an enemy, it would chip off and then be replaced, the ice melting inside the foe, and leaving their wound simultaneously ridden with poison and extreme frostbite.


Holding the spear aloft, Pythonus examined it. It felt perfectly balanced, and it’s edges gleamed with sharpness, honed by svolten rhyolite for an eternal edge. The pale spear, he thought. But no, it would need a more formal name than just that. “Vengeance Kiss,” he said, uttering the words in reverence. “And a cold kiss it is.”

Tags: @Darth Dreadwar
 

Darth Dreadwar

Active member
Immortalis
GM Update Part I
Responses due Monday night

IC: Darth Apollyon
The tunnel, Korriban


With a ripple of malevolent plasma, Darth Apollyon hefted the hissing blade of her crimson flambard, shedding dim, blood-hued illumination upon the pandaemonium barring the path ahead. Terror pressed upon her from all sides, jostling bodies in waves of anxiety, and the naked rock of the claustrophobic walls about her gleamed in the lugubrious light of her blade as if sweating with fright. What dire chaos greeted her gaze!

Before that great door of durasteel and archaic masonry, the acolytes of the New Sith Order were as a throng of scrabbling fingers grasping for elusive threads of salvation, crushed in tumult and confusion between walls of stone and the bedlam of rising apocalypse. It was dark, oppressively dark, and the vague images flashing before her eyes were those of metal and mutilation, hot panic and clammy disarray; the snarling dead were threading between the crowd.

Her blade flickered, and in the strobe-light of her unstable lightsaber, a black fist rose into the air, a grim silhouette of futile struggle as Nathemus plied his dread powers to the blockage; the blast door groaned, metal straining, yet save for the buckling of its smooth grey surface, its integrity yet held, and not even Volacius’ lightsabers, plunging with agonising slowness into thirty inches of durasteel, could break the door asunder. I-Ron was shouting to get away, and Apollyon could only assume he meant to get away from the door, which made little sense to her; Feros was attempting something, but Apollyon knew not what; Talon had nothing to offer but shouts to get away from the walls, as skeletal hands snaked from the catacombs to scrape at Dymos from behind; there was no coordination, no unity.

Hesper espied the same problem, it seemed. Standing upon Xarxes’ proffered knee in a manner that would have coaxed amusement rather than inspiration in any other circumstance, the Imperatrix pushed back the tide of panic, weaving order with her words and her wards. Apollyon could feel the frightful pressure about her subside, the crowd slackening as bodies retreated, joining the Hesperian Guard and scattered Sith warriors in their quest to protect the rear. Taking advantage of the opening, Apollyon drew up close to Hesper, as the golden-haired priestess stretched forth her hands and focused all of her prodigious telekinetic power against the barrier.

An awful pressure built up in the tunnel, as the power of the dark side gathered to the Imperatrix, and the door began to quake. Yet for all its rattling, the metal creasing and rippling, it remained stubbornly shut. “Pour everything you can into it!” Apollyon cried, raising her own hands to aid the woman she had only hours ago considered a rival, delving deep into her fear and heartbreak to summon all her arcane might. “Draw on your anger! Your rage!” Your rage at his betrayal. I know you share it, apprentice of the Emperor. Sister. “Pull!”

Nearly a hundred meters behind her, in full and frightful array before Zareel’s backturned gaze, the scelerous dead continued their relentless march, prodded onward by undying hatred and the mental caress of their deathless master. A grinning assemblage of stained bone approached Invadator and Grievance from their left, a wicked glaive held aloft in its wretched hands, seeking to pick off the slothful; another was hot on the tail of Kira, pushing past lesser prey to reach her, a lanvarok whirling in its hand. Draconis could sense thrice a dozen more approaching from an adjacent antechamber, maleficent Massasai warriors and caliginous Kissai sorcerers raised from their perverse dens of antiquity to drag the living into the Chaos whence they came.

Such were the confines of the tunnel, and the press of bodies filling it, that the Hesperian Guard had yet to form up in its entirety, and there were considerable gaps in the ranks between the Imperial Knights and the guardsmen coming to join them. The younglings, lagging at the rear by virtue of their small limbs and slow pace, were thus partially exposed, and Draconis, Invadator and Grievance faced a choice: to push on into the crowd towards the front of the retreating column, and achieve some measure of safety for themselves, as Mavros and Samael had done, or to linger and protect the Order's most vulnerable as death nipped at their heels.

Xxys, for his part, had already made his choice. The pupil of Vader broke from the crowd in fearless defiance of the shadow-lords in pursuit, preparing a dire greeting for those three eidolons of wickedness; just as well, for the Lords of the True Sith were entering the tunnel without pause, a single blast of raw telekinetic power rippling from Malleus’ outstretched hand, turning Pravum’s barrier of golems into slag and dispersing Thana’s own fiery animations, just as Mirtis flew through the air into the narrow entranceway. So too did Arach, Voidwalker and Noxia demonstrate great courage, targeting their ire at the revenants of Andeddu’s thralldom. Invisible waves of withering entropy flowed into the malodorous air, and those ghouls closest to the three Sith stumbled as their bones flaked and their ragged raiment rotted, yet they had endured thirty millennia of time’s unforgiving assault, and the unnatural passage of another aeon of decay did nothing more than slow them. Nor did the electricity conjured by Arach, skittering across their skeletal forms in horrid flickers of ghostly illumination, bring them to their final end. It was as if that ancient proverb of Dathka Graush mocked them: That which is dead can never die.

They approached still, claws extended, swords unsheathed, and from throats unseen, dreadful chants bled into the dark. The Force was twisting, coiling, in equal measures redolent of revulsion of those unnatural abominations who sought to control it, and of a dozen serpents readying to strike. Not shambling automatons of bone, were they, not magical constructs of arcane animation; they had the Force, these ancient spirits clad in what little remained of their former flesh, and the dark side was their ally.

Could there be any hope for those few survivors of the New Sith Order, in that fateful tunnel beneath the smouldering ashfields of Kain’s last apocalypse?


TAGs: @corinthia, @Arach, @DarthNoxia, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @DarthFeros, @Nacros_Telcontare, @Kielor, @Jihadi Quartz, @Darth Nathemus, @Helkosh, @Darth Solus, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Xxys, @Reatith Blodraald, @Undying Master Xiannarr, @Voidwalker, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Keres Dymos, @skira, @Zareel Jhenan´doka, @Volacius, @Drakul_Xarxes, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios

OOC:
Darth Xxys begins casting Dark Side Tendrils; this is a Sith spell, and will take two turns to cast. This, and the chosen buff, will be processed next round.

Nathemus attempts to telepathically contact I-Ron, rolling 12 + 20 + 10 against DC 10, and succeeding, with an Effect of 12 + 2 allowing for I-Ron to perceive a general sense of Nathemus urging him to press on. His usage of a healing talisman replenishes his health points by 7, from 19 to 26. He attempts Force Crush on the heavy blast door, rolling 16 + 20 + 10 against DC 45, and succeeding. An Effect of 13 + 3 slightly crumples the door, but is unable to open it.

Volacius attempts to assist Nathemus with the door, rolling 10 + 16 + 5 against DC 45, and failing. His lightsabers sink into the durasteel bit-by-bit, but great resistance is met, and the attack has no discernible effect to immediately weaken the door.

There is no need to roll for Thana’s currently thematic usage of Pyrokinesis, and the summoning of fire to her palm can be considered successful.

Feros’ usage of Force Healing rolls a 9 + 19 + 10 against DC 20, and succeeds, with an Effect of 14 + 1 replenishing his health points from 31 to 38. His attempt at using Shatterpoint on the door rolls a natural 1, and, strained by the exertion of healing himself, fails due to a lack of adequate concentration.

I-Ron’s usage of Sith Illusions does not convince the door.

Xarxes’ usage of Battle Meditation will buff and/or debuff allies and enemies henceforth so long as concentration is maintained. Hesper’s usage of Darksight rolls a 5 + 21 + 10 + Bonus of 4 against DC 45, and fails in assisting her attempts to open the door. Her usage of Force Rend rolls a 9 + 21 + 10 + Bonus of 4 against DC 45, and fails to open the door; greater focus and willpower is required.

Voidwalker’s usage of Dark Transfer rolls a 2 + 16 + 5 + Bonus of 4 against DC 30, and fails; his reserves of Force energy are too depleted by Viscretus’ attack to manage such a feat. His Darkshear attack against the Sith Undead rolls a 19 + 16 + 5 + Bonus of 4, succeeding against their various DCs 30, 20 and 10. The attack affects multiple (arbitrated as five) Sith Undead, inflicting 14 + 3 + Bonus of 4 Damage, and depleting the HP of two Undead Kissai Thaumaturges to 9, and two Undead Kissai Priests to 0. Arach’s usage of Force Lightning rolls a 9 + 29 + 10 + Bonus of 4, succeeding against the Sith Undead’s various DCs, inflicting 10 + 2 + Bonus of 4 Damage against the same undead, and other (arbitrated as two) Undead Massassi Warriors. This depletes the HP of the Undead Kissai Thaumaturges to 0, and the Undead Massassi Warriors to 0. Unfortunately, the undead remain animate even at 0 HP, and are still capable of attacking.

Draconis’ usage of Farsight rolls a 2 + 22 + 10 + Bonus of 4 + Bonus of 5 against DC 10, and succeeds, with an Effect of 13 + 2 + Bonus of 4 + Bonus of 5 allowing him to accurately scry the antechambers and cloisters surrounding the tunnel.

Mirtis’ usage of Levitation rolls a natural 20, and automatically succeeds, with an Effect of 9 + 4 + Bonus of 4 allowing safe flight through and above the flames of Thana’s golems as he lands inside the tunnel.

Noxia’s usage of Darkshear rolls a 7 + 19 + 10 + Bonus of 4 against DCs 30, 20 and 10, and succeeds, inflicting 20 + 4 + Bonus of 4 Damage. The attack affects multiple (arbitrated as five) Sith Undead, depleting the HP of two Undead Kissai Thaumaturges to 2, and three Undead Massassi Warriors to 0. Unfortunately, the undead remain animate even at 0 HP, and are still capable of attacking.

Pravum’s usage of Midichlorian Manipulation rolls a 9 + 18 + 5 + Bonus of 4 against DC 35, and succeeds, with an Effect of 17 + Bonus of 4 replenishing his HP to 35, but at the cost of exhausting his Force reserves.

Pravum’s golems have been commanded to enter the space already occupied by Thana’s flame golems. As such, multiple (arbitrated as five) of Pravum’s golems incur friendly fire damage equivalent to Thana’s proficiency in summoning golems, reducing their HP by 3d6 (16) + 1. Malleus attacks Pravum’s golems with a Force Wave, rolling a natural 20, and automatically succeeding. Damage is 17 + 5, and all golems within the radius of the Wave (i.e. all of Pravum’s and Thana’s golems) have their HP reduced to 0.
 

Darth Cold

Well-known member
Moderator
Dark Council
IC: Samael
The tunnel, Korriban


They made it this far only to be trapped by a door that couldn’t be opened. The kind Lord Catalyst was unable to help, still unconscious. If anyone could help, Samael felt it would be him. They had lost so much already. He had lost so much.

Falling to the ground, tears rolling down his face as all the pain that has been weighing on him throughout his life comes crashing down on him all at once. Friendless growing up, accidentally killing those he truly cared about with the only friend he has ever been able to make. Leaving behind the friends he wanted to help, the most recent one doing so to sacrifice themself for him. Why? Why did life seem to always want to hurt him? Should he just let it all end so as to not let anyone else get hurt because of him?

No! He wouldn’t, nay he couldn’t let it end. Not while he could still help the only one left that had ever shown him kindness. He owed them that much. Once he knew they were ok, maybe they would be better off without him, but he had to make sure they were ok before that. His reason to keep going right now was so that no one else would suffer. Not like him. And so he rose to his feet, wiping the tears from his face as he did.


He heard her, Lady Apollyon, faintly as his the emotions he had kept at bay for so long came crashing down on him all at once. “Pour everything you can into it!” Those words though not directed at him, woke something inside him. “Draw on your anger! Your rage!” An unbridled hatred at the galaxy he never knew he had. Flames flickered from his hands at first involuntarily, then more began to flicker across his body, his new robes beginning to char, though not himself, as his anger, nay his hatred for all the misfortune that has ever befell him and all that he cared about came crashing down pushing away all that had destabilized him before. Though he still wanted to believe it, love and happy wishes weren’t going to help him. No one ever truly cared for him, some like Lord Catalyst, Shalyx’har’zan, and Hazuska had shown him kindness but he was sure now, no one would ever care about him. Lord Catalyst would have his respect from the kindness he had shown, but the others could suffer for all he cared. They were in his way. The damned door was in his way.


Stalking through the crowd towards the door, the flames still flickering across his robes, he began to focus on his closed fists, trying to pour all the power of heat, and fire into them. What were once tears of depression were now tears of hatred running down his face. As he approached the door he threw a punch at the door with a scream of pure rage, keeping it there and attempting to put all he could into melting the door so that it would get out of his damned way.

(Powers Used: Convection - 1)

TAGs: @corinthia, @Arach, @DarthNoxia, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @DarthFeros, @Nacros_Telcontare, @Kielor, @Jihadi Quartz, @Darth Nathemus, @Helkosh, @Darth Solus, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Xxys, @Reatith Blodraald, @Undying Master Xiannarr, @Voidwalker, @Darth Dreadwar , @Keres Dymos, @skira, @Zareel Jhenan´doka, @Volacius, @Drakul_Xarxes, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios
 

Darth Xxys

Active member
Moderator
Dark Council
Immortalis
…just a few more seconds…

(IC XXYS Underdelve Tunnel)

The tunnel was a madhouse.

Xxys could see several people in the clutches of indecision. Wether to run into the cramped and choking mass of bodies piling against the blocked passage, or turn, and face their doom.

Not an enviable choice.

In his minds eye the Dark Lord could see the room beyond. It would be quickly filling with the crumbling staircase and molten rock raining from above. Xxys knew he held no hope of killing these creatures head on, so he was counting on the trio being focused on protecting themselves from the physical threat of the collapsing temple above and give him the chance of inflicting just enough damage to tip the balance and buy the precious seconds they needed to get the hell out.
Xxys halted his advance a few dozen meters from the blocked end of the tunnel entrance were the massive golems he had fled past were now compacted against the opening creating a formidable barrier…or so it seemed.

Xxys remained focused on his own summoned power, and as he cleared the last of those that had chosen flight over fight, he unleashed his salvo. The mist that had gathered gave the Dark Lord all the appearance of a demon made manifest, and his eyes blazed with savage ferocity as he poured all of his hate and fear into the tendrils of power.
As he manipulated the lashing dark energy towards his intended targets Xxys envisioned the smokey tendrils transmogrification into the tentacles of some nightmare creature from a deep cold ocean, the tips made adamantine with cruel hooks and thorns. He focused on ensnaring the three fel creatures, attempting to rend and tear at their throats and eyes and ripping into their skulls to consume the very flesh of their brains.
Desiccation and destruction rushed hungrily ahead to heed his command, the Dark Side owed no allegiances and would happily feasted on the essences of the Shadow Councilors just as it would his flesh if those creatures had their way.

Xxys let loose a scream filled with hateful intentions.

His fear had peaked, now there was only anger.

Anger at being trapped.
…at the Emperor turned enemy.
…at himself for not seeing this coming.

Anger is a gift…and he let it flow.

(Note: not a Force scream)

Force powers used:
Dark Tendrils (Godlike) 10

TAGs: @corinthia, @Arach, @DarthNoxia, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @DarthFeros, @Nacros_Telcontare, @Kielor, @Jihadi Quartz, @Darth Nathemus, @Helkosh, @Darth Solus, @Cardun Vrek,, @Reatith Blodraald, @Undying Master Xiannarr, @Voidwalker, @Darth Dreadwar , @Keres Dymos, @skira, @Zareel Jhenan´doka, @Volacius, @Drakul_Xarxes, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios
 

corinthia

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Immortalis
IC: Imperatrix Hesper
The Underdelve
Futility! Hesper paused for reprieve, her muscles quivering from exertion commingled with the terrible pain from Sorin’s fiery death still coursing through her body. Her attempt to rend the door in twain had failed. Head bowed, hands still placed on each half of the door, she heaved deep breaths and collected herself—she couldn't see a way through. Defeated, she balled up a fist and slammed it on the cool metal of the door, her mind racing a million miles an hour as she sifted through potentialities and oracles. They would survive… she knew it, even if she could not see it! She could feel the roiling turmoil all around her, and the ever-simmering mania within her. They had to believe her, they had to… They had to trust she would lead them out of this.

Apollyon's dark face floated into view at Hesper's right—she was beseeching Hesper to use her anger, to pull this door apart. In that moment she felt a kinship with Apollyon she hadn't felt before. This was another of her master's victims, a woman led to trust the entity called Dreadwar only to be betrayed. The bastard! He must have hidden himself from Hesper's prescience to exact such a cruel feat. She grit her teeth. Oh, what terrible things she would do if she could put her fists to that evil wraith. Feeling a swell of emotion, Hesper reached out in the Force to Apollyon. She grasped at Apollyon's proffered help, like taking her hand. Her sistren. And she felt on her other side, too, the cool aura of Drakul Xarxes, his Battle Meditation rolling off him in icy waves. She drew it all in, pulling on that deep wellspring of darkness. From behind her she felt the fear of those at the flanks and rear, desperately slashing at their pursuers, and the tiny, fragile terror of the children. Inhaling, she absorbed the terror of the masses.

Rage punched through Hesper's chest, a white-hot fist that burned with the fires of righteous fury. She summoned that heat to her hands, scraping her fingers along the ancient door until they found purchase in that seam through which crimson light still shone.

"Pull!" Apollyon cried.

And she did.

First, she flexed her telekinetic prowess, exerting her fantastic skill upon the doors; then, she envisaged the doors parting, each half flying apart in a magnificent motion, allowing a frantic procession of terrified Sith to escape to safety, ushered by her black-clad Guardsmen. She imagined every child grasping the hand of an elder, each one safe and protected in their egress. She thrust this desire into the ether, demanding the universe make it so. The opaline shimmer of her scarred eye glinted with divine intent, and sweat beaded on her brow as she continued to wrest the doors apart. Her arms quivered and her fingers trembled with the effort, using her fiery anger as fuel. She groaned, teeth clenched, until it crescendoed into a scream, unleashing the full force of her determination upon this damned door!


TAG:
@Darth Dreadwar, @Drakul_Xarxes, all others in tunnel

Powers used:
Feed on Dark Side - 3
Darksight - GODLIKE - 10
Force Rend - 5
 

Volacius

Active member
IC: Darth Volacius, Scourge of the Jedi
The Tunnels, Korriban

Letting out a roar of confused frustration, Volacius deactivated the crimson blades of his Sabre and Shoto, returning both silvery hilts to their places on his belt. The Mirialan had fully expected the door to crumple against the overwhelming forces being slammed against it. His Lightsaber alone should have been able to slice through whatever material the door was constructed of—barring the extraordinarily rare Cortosis, Phrik, or Beskar, none of which his Lightsabers would have been able to pierce in the first place. Yet, this rusted hunk of metal had withstood not only being punctured by his Sabers, but it had also resisted Nathemus’ gargantuan fist, as well as Hesper’s attempt to telekinetically rip the door asunder. Surely he was going mad, surely this was some illusion conjured by whatever demonic forces of chaos and destruction yet pursued them, an attempt to fool them all into believing that their path of escape was blocked so as to slow their progress. And yet, if it was some sort of trickery, Volacius was not able to definitively prove it, nor could he rule out the possibility that this ancient doorway had been alchemized ages ago just as his elemental sword had been.

The frenzied crowd of survivors continued to pile into itself as this dead-end, temporary as it may or may not end up becoming, forced their collective flight to cease. Whatever hostile presence that had descended into Korriban’s depths with them was clearly still more than a match for the remnants of the Sith. If Volacius and the others could not break through this unexpected blockage, then sooner rather than later their time would run out.

Unexpectedly, these prospects of doom dissipated from the Mirialan Admiral’s mind as quickly as they had coalesced. It happened so fast as to feel unnatural, but for Volacius, this was a sensation he was particularly familiar with: the advent of friendly Battle Meditation. As the Mirialan Sith took a moment to bathe in the invigorating rush of power and morale that one of his comrades was so generously providing, he noticed that Apollyon and Hesper had swiftly convened with one another, silently as it may have been, ending with a single word: “Pull.”

Whatever plan they intended to enact, Volacius knew that he would be of more use enhancing their efforts than trying to contribute his raw brute force as he had tried moments ago. Shutting his golden-red eyes and clasping his rugged hands in front of him at chest level, Volacius once again opened his mind’s eye to what was left of their battlefield; to the Sith that continued to flee down this enigmatic corridor, to his comrades who had bravely chosen to stand as the rear-guard against the ruthless armies of the Great Betrayer, but most importantly to the two Sith Ladies that were standing next to the ancient doorway, willing them to make that damned door capitulate to their combined might. Still overwhelmed by the pure, unregulated, maddening rage and ruinous anguish brought on by Lord Kain’s untimely demise, Volacius poured these emotions from his heart like an open floodgate, granting and indeed demanding that his allies be empowered through him, while targeting his abhorred adversaries with the darkest feelings of defeatism and hopelessness that he could inflict, if such emotions could even be felt by such monstrous aberrations as they.

Even if Volacius did not engage the hellish, preternatural titans that assailed him this day, he would try his utmost in this moment to ensure that they would still be afflicted with a prelude to the Wrath of Kain.

POWERS USED:
Battle Meditation — 4

TAGS: @Darth Dreadwar, @corinthia, @Arach, @DarthNoxia, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @DarthFeros, @Nacros_Telcontare, @Kielor, @Jihadi Quartz, @Darth Nathemus, @Helkosh, @Darth Solus, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Xxys, @Reatith Blodraald, @Undying Master Xiannarr, @Voidwalker, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Keres Dymos, @skira, @Zareel Jhenan´doka, @Drakul_Xarxes, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios
 
Last edited:

Cardun Vrek

Legendary Member
Moderator
Jedi Council
IC: Darth Mavros

The Tunnels, Korriban


Bloody hell…how many Sith does it take to open a damn door?

There was a joke in there somewhere, and as Mavros glanced back at the still unconscious Lord Catalyst, he hypothesised that Catalyst would’ve been the first to make said joke. As he glanced up and down the tunnel, Mavros came to a realisation: they were trapped between the unopenable door and the army of undead monsters and their masters.

The greatest Sith of our time, defeated by a door.

Well, the army of undead was doing the heavy lifting, but unless one of the self declared ‘leaders’ up front could actually do anything other than bicker and get in each other’s way, they were, to put it plainly, Kriffed. Although he was safe from immediate danger, it was only a matter of time before the meat shields behind him were consumed by the oncoming and seemingly unstoppable tide. And he wasn’t about to commit suicide by trying to fight back, like Kain and the other one that had been sat next to him at the feast had.

The situation was dire. If he had a ‘happy place’, this was the time he would have went to it. But he couldn’t summon up anything suitably pleasant and distracting. He imagined his former Master being impaled by a electrocuted spike, but that only made him chuckle for a brief instant. He sighed, trying to make some room around him from within the crowd of panicked Sith.

Might as well try to buy some time for the geniuses up front…

He knelt down again, and began to draw on the Dark Side, invoking the spirits of the dead to bring terror to their foes once more.

Power Used

Corpse Vision- 2

TAGS: @Darth Dreadwar, @corinthia, @Arach, @DarthNoxia, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @DarthFeros, @Nacros_Telcontare, @Kielor, @Jihadi Quartz, @Darth Nathemus, @Helkosh, @Darth Solus, @Volacius, @Darth Xxys, @Reatith Blodraald, @Undying Master Xiannarr, @Voidwalker, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Keres Dymos, @skira, @Zareel Jhenan´doka, @Drakul_Xarxes, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios
 

Xarxes

Sith Imperator
Sith Emperor
Moderator
Final Triumvirate
Dark Council
Immortalis
IC: Drakul Xarxes
The Underdelve
Chill.

Xarxes could feel the build of hoarfrost on his armor as his senses continued to dull, perceiving only the desired outcome and the current motivations of his allies. The will of his opponents continued to be actively suppressed, though to what degree he could not tell.

To any observers, of whom there were undoubtedly few if any, they would see the chills of Arkania washing over its lord, icicles forming around the skeletal shapes in his cuirass, gauntlets, and helm. A thin layer of white frost coated the whole of his armor, and the icy waves of his willpower exuded over those closest to him. Darth Hesper was nearest, with Lady Apollyon not much further. The Sedriss too within the vicinity, and the Nightfather could sense also the will of Darth Volcaious being exerted in a like manner.

Down the tunnel, the three approaching Sith, though too far to feel debilitating ice, would be subjected continuously to the icy and indomitable will of Drakul Xarxes. Though he could not detect to which degree his willpower affected them, he relented not. The Sith would not fall to these foul intruders. Xarxes would not fall today!


Abilities: Battle Meditation (4) Continued
TAGS: @Darth Dreadwar, @corinthia, @Arach, @DarthNoxia, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @DarthFeros, @Nacros_Telcontare, @Kielor, @Jihadi Quartz, @Darth Nathemus, @Helkosh, @Darth Solus, @Volacius, @Darth Xxys, @Reatith Blodraald, @Undying Master Xiannarr, @Voidwalker, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Keres Dymos, @skira, @Zareel Jhenan´doka, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios
 

Arach

Active member
IC- Darth Arach and Voidwalker
Death Trap Tunnel, Korriban

This was not working.

Arach saw the damage the undead took. She had expected at least one to drop lifeless, but, still, they kept coming.

She felt fear crawl up her spine as she realized there was nothing she could do besides actually going head to head with them. Something she felt she wouldn’t prevail in doing.

That left her with one choice. Retreat.

Arach gave Voidwalker’s hand a squeeze to get his attention. She spared a glance at him and voiced her thoughts. “We need to retreat. Helping the others get that door open is our only solid option now.” Her question remained unsaid, Will you come with me? She swallowed the unexpected flare of hope that the sorcerer would retreat with her. She also felt a flash of desire to see him survive this.

The squeeze of her hand was gentle and almost unnoticed as Voidwalker had placed all of his concentration on his waves of enteropathy. Concentrating as the years of a millenia washed over the advancing force's in moment's, only for them to continue onward. Her voice was soft but it stood out across the staggering sound of bones and flesh on stone. Not to mention the explosion of sounds crescendoing from either ends of the tunnel. Just barely catching his attention, Voidwalker threw her a glance and gave her an affirming nod.

The assassin moved her gaze to look back at the still advancing undead and the arcs of lightning shooting from her fingertips and cleared her throat, taken a little off- guard by what she felt. “Another option might be to take them on in combat, but that seems like suicide.”

"No, we've come much too far to throw our lives away now. Let's regroup."

The two Sith still fighting and standing in a unified manner, hand in hand, they turned on their heels and headed for the others. "Noxia come on, this is a waste!" Voidwalker shouted over his shoulder. Re-entering the chamber that held the majority of the rest of the remaining NSO members, the door still stood solid and shut. Just as it has been before. There were skeletal enemies here as well, targeting other Sith. Luckily it gave Arach and Voidwalker a few moments. "Arach listen to me, you need to get up there and help them. I'll cover you from down here."

The relief she felt at moving away from the danger was brief. “If only I were stronger,” Arach muttered.

The assassin's words fell on Voidwalker's ears and as much as he wanted to say something, what could he say? All he could do was look her in the eye and prepare to offer some sort of encouragement.

Her gaze snapped to Voidwalker’s. The assassin furrowed her brow and tensed her jaw. “Now is not the time to be the sacrificial hero. They need everyone they can get to help open that door.” She pushed down the rising feeling of panic and narrowed her eyes. “Let the others deal with them for now.”

"I told you, we're not throwing our lives away Arach, and that goes for me too." His eyes narrowly rolled at Arach's retort. Did she not hear what I said before? Or does she truly care? He held her gaze and gathered his words quickly. He hated to admit it, but he knew it was the only way she would understand. "I'm not strong enough to help with the door. I'm still too weak from Viscretus draining my power. So it's up to you. You have to help them get that door open. I'll help however I can. Stop doubting yourself, you can do this. Now get up there and rip that damn door down!"

Arach’s golden gaze flashed in apprehension and her jaw fully clenched. She knew he was right, but she couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She turned away from the sorcerer, battling between helping with the door or helping with the undead. “Fine,” she decided, turning back to face her companion. “Just do me a favor and don’t die. I’m not leaving without you.”

"Don't you worry, I'm not leaving without you. Now get going and get that door open!"

She gave Voidwalker’s hand a final squeeze before letting go and turning toward the door.

Arach pushed down the sudden fear that flared in her heart. Don’t leave him. That thought made her stumble slightly as she started to move away. She shoved it away with a soft growl. He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. Her self- reassurance did nothing to soothe the pang she felt.

After Arach had let go of his hand, she was off and moving through the gathered crowd of survivors and skeletons that were gathering here as well. Something had to be done or more skeletons and enemies would flank them. They had to buy some time. There has to be a way of slowing these bastards down. But how? Come on Voidwalker, think damnit! If I cannot kill them, then how do you stop an enemy from attacking? Think, think, think. They just keep approaching when we try to - wait, that's it!

His eyes quickly darted around the chamber looking for some way to make a blockade of a door of some sorts. If the enemy couldn't reach them, then the enemy couldn't attack them. The skeletons that were already in the chamber would be trapped with them but there were plenty more Sith than skeletons so the numbers were at least in the NSO's favor there. But a barrier would at least prevent them from being flanked and provide a temporary breath of relief.

Voidwalker reached out with both arms, his hands facing palms down towards the ground. He could feel the energy of the Force swirling inside him like a storm waiting to be unleashed. Today had been a maelstrom of its own, and the Force reflected it in how it felt within him. I hope I have enough strength to do this. Come on Force, give me the strength to do what I can. Now rise!

Voidwalker's hands curled into claw like forms as he raised his arms up in an attempt to alter the environment around them. If he had the strength he'd raise the stone ground and reshape the environment to create a barrier to seal off the chamber from the rest of the tunnel and approaching enemies.

Arach shoved her way through the crowd towards the door. She stopped alongside Hesper and gathered her strength. She closed her eyes and envisioned the most likely stress points on the stubborn door. She placed her hand lightly on Hesper’s shoulder in a gesture of mixed apology and show of support. The assassin then raised her other hand toward the door, releasing her growing energy, intent on ripping the metal apart.


POWERS USED:
Arach - Force Rend- 4

Voidwalker - Alter Environment - 2


TAGS: @Darth Dreadwar, @corinthia, @DarthNoxia, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @DarthFeros, @Nacros_Telcontare, @Kielor, @Jihadi Quartz, @Darth Nathemus, @Helkosh, @Darth Solus, @Volacius, @Darth Xxys, @Reatith Blodraald, @Undying Master Xiannarr, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Keres Dymos, @skira, @Zareel Jhenan´doka, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios
 

skira

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Final Triumvirate
Dark Council
IC: Sol Kira
Underdelve, Korriban


As the undead closed in on what remained of the New Sith Order, one in particular had targeted the young Apprentice. Sol heard its steps from behind her, and she whipped her head around to only see a mangled skeleton stalking after her. It pushed through the people surrounding her, and she continued to push through as well, trying to gain distance from it.

Do not stop, keep moving. Keep your head low and try to keep someone behind you,” The voice of Zoradon echoed in her mind. He must have been close to see that, and the Apprentice didn't hesitate to listen to him.

Where are you,” She whispered back to him, her heart racing. Sol pulled her saber from her holster and held the hilt in her right hand, ready to light it to fight off the skeleton if it reached her. She continued her attempt to move forward while checking over her shoulder every few seconds, squeezing between anyone she could to get through the narrow tunnel and towards the front of the group. If there were breaks in the crowd, she would run. She would move and run until she reached the front. 'They'd better get that damned door open,' She thought silently to herself.

Pull your hood up to cover your head,” He whispered again, and she followed his command once more.

The smoke demon was stalking the skeleton like it was its prey. In a way, it was. It may have lacked a soul, but reducing it to atoms would be just as satisfying.

Behind you,” Zoradon whispered at the skeleton, acting quick in an attempt to catch it off guard while also distracting it from Sol. The demon wrapped his smoke form around the creature in an attempt to consume it in his own vapor body, hoping to vaporize its very being and rid its presence from the galaxy.


TAGS: TAGS: @Darth Dreadwar, @corinthia, @Arach, @DarthNoxia, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @DarthFeros, @Nacros_Telcontare, @Kielor, @Jihadi Quartz, @Darth Nathemus, @Helkosh, @Darth Solus, @Volacius, @Darth Xxys, @Reatith Blodraald, @Undying Master Xiannarr, @Voidwalker, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Keres Dymos, @Drakul_Xarxes, @Zareel Jhenan´doka, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios
 

Grievance Vexx

Dark Lord Krigsbefallaf
Moderator
Dark Council
Combo featuring Draconis, Reiis Invadator, and Grievance Vexx
Korriban, Underdelve

Vexx's irritated growl is likely lost in the sounds of the others clamoring to get through the narrow passageway, but he isn't too keen on Invadator being out of his line of sight. Fortunately, he can sense that she is following and hasn't been held back by anyone. He fixes his sights ahead on Draconis, watching him as he moves along like a silent shadow; surprised and yet...not surprised that he is able to maneuver through the panicked crowd undisturbed. He recalls being intensely irritated by this ability of his master during his apprenticeship; the Dark Lord's comings and goings always without warning and frustrating to keep up with; but now, Vexx finds himself appreciating the challenge. He has sincerely missed these things that only Draconis can dish out.

Of course, there isn't much time to reflect on how many times this uncanny ability has frustrated Vexx. More trouble. There will always be more trouble. The hellish creature closing in on him and the General from the left ordinarily wouldn't be something he would try to avoid, but he is well aware that he isn't in the best of conditions to be picking a fight. There are other matters weighing on him though. For one, there are too many younglings here; too many in danger; too many in his way. He will not harm them, neither will he trample ahead to leave them to be slaughtered by the demon creature behind them. His honor simply will not allow that.


"Move!" he urges them and none seem to be willing to argue with the imposing metal beast as he shoves them forward. To General Invadator he says, "Go ahead of me and keep them moving. We have to keep up with Draconis."

He keeps his Force Barrier high, hoping it will provide some buffering toward any damage this thing might try to deal him, all the while pressing forward and not letting any younglings straggle; shoving them ahead without thought to possibly hurting or frightening them. Any pain or fear he causes can be counted as a blessing if it will serve to keep them out of true harm's way.

The groaning of metal down the hallway, echoed in a low dull reverberation mixed in with the frantic screaming and yelling from the throng of darksiders whom attempted to bludgeon the door in a sense to death. Hammering it with their power. Draconis wondered if they realized their efforts were futile, did they really understand this place? Draconis’ attention turned to his own senses as he felt the over nearly thrice a dozen undead clambering and approaching beyond view in the anti-chambers adjacent to the tunnel. Their approach was of concern, but not as much of a concern as the manner in which Draconis perceived was playing out at the end of the tunnel where the large ancient door stood between them and continued survival. They were already boxed in and the pressing masses of the fleeing darksiders made it near impossible to coordinate an effective defense. This along with the fact that the undead driven through the unseen power of the ancient Sith whom had raised them from their milenia long slumbers, would not be overcome with strength or power in these conditions. They were driven by forces not susceptible to force through skill or power. As such his perception of them was simply further indication that a response was needed now, maybe even a lesson per se.

A mass of younglings, the order’s “promised” future, were struggling to keep in step with the main group and as a result were now critically vulnerable. This along with the continued fumbling with the door up ahead, was enough to deal with. Draconis mused an almost revolting sentiment for what was unfolding, as the ones that seemed unable to open the door were no different than the fleeing children, prattling about and snipping at the heels of this supposed exodus from death. None of them, able to save themselves. The ancient lords that pressed them further down this path continued to approach, the rear guard doing everything they could to slow their advance, with no success.

With this firmly in his mind, Draconis’ head cocked slightly as he stared for a brief moment at one of the younglings, a young boy, his eyes full of tears, a face of terror evident. Indoctrinated and pulled into this life, the young boy like so many of his peers was now faced with the grim reality of what this life demanded. A supposed devotee of the darkness, the glamor and appeal of power and strength. The allure of its enticing visage, the banquets, grand speech and platitudes of grandeur put forth so recently upon the sands of this world. All of them shattered, torn down and burned to the foundation revealing what it truly was to walk this path. The hell they were now in. As such even as things burned, many of them still clung to their ideals of what they believed the darkness to be, attempting to bend it to their design. Nothing could be further from the truth, even with the reality of what was unfolding before them, they failed to embrace and mark what was the true nature of the darkness they sought so vainly to bend.

The young boy was saturated with terror and even had he been aware of the malicious being of Draconis staring upon him, he would have been unable to offer any resistance as Draconis reached out telekinetically with the force to wretch him away from the other younglings and into his invisible grasp. With an outstretched arm and hand, Draconis tore through the mental veil of the boy with no effort. So fast was the motion to wretch the boy from the group of other younglings, that the boy would have barely noticed his movement forward in the air, the force of the action acting like a wedge that pushed through some of the massed darksiders as the boy was invisibly pushed towards the massive door that the others were still struggling to open. Draconis had already turned to follow, striding down the hallway and making his way through the crowd via the path that the boy was plowing through until he drew near the massive groaning door even as Draconis continued to push the boy forward with his invisible grasp. The boy now clearly aware that his forward progress was not of his own accord, clamored to understand what was happening to him as the terror of the tunnel was replaced with a fear and terror of why he was being propelled forward. Whether the boy would come to understand his fate, the impact of him hitting the door would jolt him into a slight awareness. Recognizing many of the order’s highest rank near him. Apollyon, Hesper, Xarxes… all standing trying to force the door open. Their mental powers hammering it like sledges, yet accomplishing nothing. The boy was held in place by the invisible hand of Draconis, while a tortrue-like energy descended upon the boy, as his body began to twist in an unnatural manner.His screams of terror turned quickly to unimaginable pain, as Draconis poured a wellspring of cruelty and malice into the boy that was now being invisibly crucified against the ancient door. Limbs began to pop as they were pulled out of their sockets as Draconis allowed the energy exuded from the act through sheer primal pain to flow out of the young boy and into the door itself. Feeding the darkside here and offering the proper sacrifice. Draconis strode forward, those around would hear an audible chant from his lips. Repeated in the ancient tongue as he moved forward. Hyal. Midwan. Jiaasjen. Ja'ak.

Closer now, Draconis continued to allow the boy to suffer immeasurable pain, keeping him on the edge of life and death, extracting a cruel sadistic malice from his suffering. Building a dark energy to extract the necessary toll required. Then, with a final twist of his hand and a flourish of his fingers the boy was twisted and wretched apart into several pieces as blood splattered against the ancient door. His screams instantly cut off, with only a final echo trailing down the tunnel after his body was torn apart. The last vestige of his soul screaming over even the loud groaning masses. An act of pure evil, one that the others danced around. To navigate this place, the illusions of this order had to be torn down. There was nothing but darkness here, the tenants and ideals they clung had to be torn away if they expected to survive.

Sacrifice.

Those that continued to pound the door with their power, simply exhaust themselves in an act of futility. Their attempts to exude their raw power were a fraction of what was drawn upon by Draconis’ act of pure darkness through malice and evil. It would do them well to take note. Doors required keys, and keys came in many forms and their continued ignorance of the ancients that built this place was exhausting… had they not seen the murals they passed, or were they all too caught up in their own fear and frantic attempts to live. It seemed like the latter.

This place… was darkness, and required it.


The General ignored Lord Vexx, maintaining a position nearer to the rear of the group so as to keep her Force Barriers between them and the onslaught that continued to advance. Besides, their Master wasn’t going very far right now – he was blocked, as they all were, by the unwavering doors.

And then there was the matter of the younglings.

Invadator might very well have left them there, but that Invadator had dissolved many years ago into someone else, and this Invadator wasn’t sure what to do. Then the screams of one of them tore into her ears, making her freeze in place involuntarily, but only for a moment. Still, the prolonged sound shot stakes into her brain, and she knew what she had to do.

“Too slow!” she admonished one, grabbing him under the armpits and throwing him forward.

“Look alive or die!” she yelled at another, flinging him to dubious safety much as she did the first one.

“Move it or lose it!”

She hadn’t even known younglings were here until they were all being left behind. The General did pause to scowl at Lord Vexx, who was not advancing further towards the door as she had hoped he would. Just as she was not. Hypocrites, both of them. Still, they had their priorities.

But flinging children wouldn’t save them.

The skeletal beast that appeared before them showed no signs of stopping, so when Invadator pushed the nearest child out of the way, she ignited the Darksaber and stood in its path. She didn’t care to tempt fate so much as to attack with her blade first, instead reaching out with the Force to rend its body to pieces.

The screaming of tinnitus in his head is the first thing that alerts Vexx to Draconis's power. There is a decidedly different pitch to it when the man who had shattered his resistance exercises his power. It is terrifying to him, more than the inferno or anything they have faced thus far in this Korriban death trap. Grievance Vexx doesn't truly fear much in this life, but Draconis alone can cause what little blood he has to run deathly cold.

The Force is alive with the same malice the Kaleesh himself had experienced in a cargo hold somewhere in his distant past. He had been the target then and a strange desperation in him wishes he were the target now...when his mind realizes what his master is up to and that one young and innocent is about to experience something he should not have to. He starts to protest; can even hear himself screaming for his master to stay his hand, but perhaps those screams of his are only in his mind and never really reach his electronic speech apparatus. He dares not look up or ahead at what has been done.


That child never needed to live a life like this anyway, he tells himself in the deepest recesses of his mind, I would not wish the hell I have lived on anyone--least of all a child.

It is only his mind coming to terms with this and he knows it. It is the same way he had regarded the Kaleesh children who had died in the war of his youth. Regarding Draconis, a storm of conflict explodes inside of him, but he shuts it down, controlling the fear and the raw unfiltered rage boiling in his gut. If he had questions for his master before, he has forgotten all of them in the tidal wave of new questions that crash down on top of him, but for now, he chooses numbness; autopilot. He does not want to think or feel right now. He might not be able to continue with any sense of rationality if he does and his thoughts wilfully turn toward Invadator. He has to keep it together and thinking about the safety of his friends as opposed to the safety of himself keeps him from giving way to the crazed fury he is holding back.

Vexx power(s) used:
Force Barrier

Draconis power(s) used:
Telekinesis
Force Rend
(GM approved use of NPC youngling)

Invadator power(s) used:
Force Barrier
Force Defense
Force Rend

Tag: @Darth Dreadwar, @corinthia, @Drakul_Xarxes, @dragonsith13, @Reiis Invadator, @Darth Nathemus, @Arach, @DarthFeros, @Voidwalker, @Darth Xxys
 

Helkosh

Active member
IC: Darth Pravum
Location: Tunnels beneath Sith Temple, Korriban

“Help me! I’m stuck!” - Poorly written galactic holoerotica

Pravum felt rejuvenated, healed, and empty inside. It seemed that his manipulation of midichlorians had come at the cost of his remaining Force reserves. Not that he’d have time to complain before he, like all the rest here, was dead.

Like cattle for the slaughter, what remained of the New Sith Order huddled in the tunnel, trapped together as they awaited death from behind. There was no fight here; the dead could not be killed. A paraphrase of an old Sith saying, disturbingly macabre in reality. For whatever reason, progression through the escape tunnel had come to a complete stop. He uneasily ordered his Wraiths to stand guard around him, the three of them his only remaining forces. The golems had been melted down into nothing, consumed by the dreadful power of the undead pursuers. There was nothing to do but try to push ahead, and so he did. Weaving between huddled masses as quickly as he could, his Wraiths pushing aside any who would not move for him, trying to get to the front of the tunnel.

@corinthia, @Arach, @DarthNoxia, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @DarthFeros, @Nacros_Telcontare, @Kielor, @Jihadi Quartz, @Darth Nathemus, @Darth Dreadwar, @Darth Solus, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Xxys, @Reatith Blodraald, @Undying Master Xiannarr, @Voidwalker, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Keres Dymos, @skira, @Zareel Jhenan´doka, @Volacius, @Drakul_Xarxes, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios
 

Dark Lady Makaria

Moderator
Moderator
Dark Council
IC: Keres Dymos
The Underdelve, Korriban

Jīng huāng shī cuò,
ran through Keres' mind, though it wasn't really helping. The energy roiling through the group was building, frothing like a panicked shoal of fish. Whatever was going on with the door either hadn't worked or wasn't going to and they were trapped on both sides. She shrieked as a bony hand tried to grab her, swinging her saber a little wildly. Maybe she was panicking a little too. But how could she not? The safety of a crowd meant little when it was too narrow to fall back, to let other, stronger powers take the lead.

But now they were all congregated by the door. While Keres, the other apprentices, and the younglings were now the front-line prey to this undead army. And they were all so wrapped up in that door, their salvation, their damnation, that few seemed to be rushing to their rescue. Or maybe they were still working on the door, if the screech of metal told her anything. Still, it apparently still wasn't enough, as everyone stayed in the corridor.

"Let the younglings fall back!" Keres called, wondering if any would pay any attention to her. She raised her saber against the skeleton that had tried to grab her, trying to keep her body between her foe and the children.

TAGS: @Darth Dreadwar, @corinthia, @Arach, @DarthNoxia, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @DarthFeros, @Nacros_Telcontare, @Kielor, @Jihadi Quartz, @Darth Nathemus, @Helkosh, @Darth Solus, @Volacius, @Darth Xxys, @Reatith Blodraald, @Undying Master Xiannarr, @Voidwalker, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Drakul_Xarxes, @Zareel Jhenan´doka, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @skira
 

Darth Thana

Active member
IC: Darth Thana
The tunnel, Korriban



The Dread Master could feel her blood pumping as she sprinted to what she thought would be safety, her flame beast a step behind with its powerful steps. The sound of sizzles was not loud enough to penetrate her ears when she saw everyone in front stopped in a huddle. Halting her body as she approached the crowd, feeling the heat behind her. She watched as Lady Hesper rose up higher on what seemed to be the knee of the Lord Xarxes. Catching the glimpse of the halking door that kept them trapped like womp rats, it didn't seem to budge. The many beings still attacking from the rear, just as Thana had turned her eyes to her golem as she stepped back to see how her body guards were holding down the entrance.

Suddenly, a powerful whipping wind extinguished the existing life within her fiery protectors. She watched every bit of life just poof away as all the golems left blocking the tunnel entrance were destroyed violently.


Anger filled her body more as she had just spent energy crafting these obedient beings. They had spent their last moments doing her bidding; she turned to see her last remaining golem behind her. Feeling the radiant heat warming her, she was already burning with anger. She pooled together her anger until it was boiling over, her golem attempting to slam down any zombies approaching her. Her hands lifted up and channeling everything, fueling her with fear, anger, and survival.

She focused on any zombies, specifically their heads, to explode them as they would hopefully intensely shake. Pain was not registering as much like something chemically in her body was taking control. Thana pulled every bit of negative emotions flowing heavily from the rest of the tunnel occupiants; she wanted it to fill her body and fuel her attacks against the intruders. The sith Master wanted to buy time for the others to forcibly break the door open so that they could escape to freedom instead of dying like womp rats in a dirty trap....


Flamusfracta -2
Feed on Dark Side-3

Tags: @Darth Dreadwar
@corinthia , @Arach , @DarthNoxia , @dragonsith13 @Grievance Vexx @Reiis Invadator @DarthFeros @Nacros_Telcontare @Jihadi Quartz , @Darth Nathemus , @Helkosh @Darth Solus , @Cardun Vrek , @Darth Xxys , @Reatith Blodraald
@Admiral Volshe @Catalyst , @Undying Master Xiannarr @Voidwalker @Hadzuska_The Jester @Keres Dymos , @skira @Zareel Jhenan´doka @Volacius @Drakul_Xarxes @Sith_Imperios
 
IC: Darth Mirtis

It felt like passing through a warm invisible silk blanket as Darth Mirtis flew over Darth Thana's fire golem. But as soon as he landed and looked back, he saw Lord Voidwalker, Lady Arach and more importantly to Mirtis, Darth Noxia. He knew if he fought along with them that his life would most likely be snuffed out. He saw past them, the enemies only slowing down instead of succumbing to death as they attempted to bring down their foe just the same.

The reptilian Sith knew he was did possess the same level of power as those before him did. He took and feel breath and looked at his clawed hand and made a fist. He was not sure if this was the end, but if it was; Mirtis would go down swinging. He readied his shield and his fist behind him.

"Ugh, I thought I would never have to try this again." Darth Mirtis said as he began bringing his plan into action. Instead of dread, rage, and the dark side. He used excitement and what he felt to be happiness at his primal want to destroy his enemy and protect Darth Noxia. Protecting another is the feeling he presses upon attempting to summon the force to aid his request. He ran toward the closet enemy with his shield up, a triumph roar in the air and prayed the force would not let him down. He tried using the light side to imbue his force punch with light side energy and unleash upon the enemy with all his might.

Powers attempted:
Force punch-4
Force Light-1

Tags: @Darth Dreadwar
@corinthia , @Arach , @DarthNoxia , @dragonsith13 @Grievance Vexx @Reiis Invadator @DarthFeros @Nacros_Telcontare @Jihadi Quartz , @Darth Nathemus , @Helkosh @Darth Solus , @Cardun Vrek , @Darth Xxys , @Reatith Blodraald
@Admiral Volshe @Catalyst , @Undying Master Xiannarr @Voidwalker @Hadzuska_The Jester @Keres Dymos , @skira @Zareel Jhenan´doka @Volacius @Drakul_Xarxes @Darth Thana
 

Admiral Volshe

Legendary Member
NGE Empress
IC: Cordé Venau (Darth Kaos II)
Somewhere Under the Temple of XoXaan

Cordé has been quietly shepherded by the Knights, by the others, surviving despite the chaos that unfolded both above and below. She had not done much, the danger around them enough to keep her attention pulled taut between multiple points. As she herself was coaxed forward, she in turn ensured the children and the Alliance members were as well. Her mother may have been unable to herself, but that did not mean she would neglect what she had asked. If anything, it gave her a sense of stability and purpose in the dark tunnels.

She kept a close eye on her father, on her mother the same, as she approached the door. They had failed to open it thus far. Brute force seemed to be the weapon of choice. But she, like her mother, was a witch. One who plied the Force into magical threads. The brute force they used could perhaps cause the door to bend or even shatter, but she had seen more than her share of the strange or even the downright nonsensical. She had been born on Korriban, after all, her parentage two Lords who had spent decades upon its surface. She had been forged in the fires of the One, as many around them had.

There was anxiety in her, as there was in any of them. But now. she did not show it. She had her moments, for she was not fearless like her father, but she, like most Nagai, was often quiet. Contemplative. A placid pool that was rarely disturbed. Unless of course, the situation called for it. She still had the fire of her mother.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she whispered to her father, to Maladi, looking over. She studied the door for a moment, a sliver of time in the chaos, and then pushed through to the front - lingering just behind where the attacks originated.

Her eyes locked onto the cold metal. It seemed to tower over her, shrinking her to minuscule. A frown briefly flit across her features. She glanced back to her father but attempted to obscure her unease.

She was in a dark tomb, much darker, much quieter than the one she stood in now. Blackness enveloped her, for there was no light. Fear glittered in her eyes. There were the last resonating waves of stone sliding shut behind her, shaking the ground she stood on.

She summoned fire in her palm, as her mother had taught, studying the monumental door that entombed them. She remembered the carvings and inscriptions well, faces without names, words without meaning…

Her father stood behind her. He had not spun as she had. He had not even winced as their portal to the world had dissipated and taken all light with it. Instead. crimson eyes simply glittered with the embers of curiosity she had come to know well. His pale hand extended to the door and incanted four words. There was conviction behind them. It was an order, not a request.


It was the same commanding tone she adopted as she willed the door the same.

Na chaba sim baratu,” she ordered, as her fathers soft yet authoritative voice had in the dark tomb of her memory. Her hand followed the same gesture his had. She recalled the shudder of the tomb around them, the sliver of light reappearing as they ventured back into the golden glow of the Valley…the relief that had washed over her.

She hoped that here, now, her father’s guidance would save them and it would be the same.

POWERS USED:
Sith Magic - ???

TAG:​
@Sith_Imperios , @Darth Dreadwar , @corinthia , @Arach , @DarthNoxia , @dragonsith13 @Grievance Vexx @Reiis Invadator@DarthFeros @Nacros_Telcontare @Jihadi Quartz, @Darth Nathemus , @Helkosh @Darth Solus , @Cardun Vrek , @Darth Xxys , @Reatith Blodraald
@Admiral Volshe @Catalyst , @Undying Master Xiannarr @Voidwalker @Hadzuska_The Jester@Keres Dymos , @skira @Zareel Jhenan´doka@Volacius @Drakul_Xarxes @Darth Thana
 

Darth Dreadwar

Active member
Immortalis
GM Update Part I

IC: Erastus Sallacine

Bridge of the Akorec, en route to Saijo, hyperspace

The Imperious-class Star Destroyer Akorec sliced through the foaming effulgence of hyperspace with superluminous speed, a star-spattered vortex of cerulean chaos and crystalline streaks racing by the cold, sharp point of its prow like snowflakes in a blizzard. Mortal eyes could not perceive its passage, in that ineffable netherealm between reality and potentiality, but if there had been witnesses, the Akorec would have left behind the singularly unsettling impression that some vast behemoth of war, every bit as formidable as the giant reptiloids after which it was named, was hurtling through the cosmos in a barely restrained panic, as frightened of what lay behind it as it was anxious to reach what lay ahead. It was as if the entire ship had become the abstraction of haste, all the physics-bending energies of its silently screaming hyperdrive focused on a single distant pinprick, and the attainment thereof with unprecedented alacrity.

Aboard its bridge, Lord Erastus Sallacine stood with legs splayed before the glistening transparisteel viewports beyond which the enrapturing cosmos whirled, a barely-restrained twitch in the leatheris of his left-hand glove betraying his agitation. His angular jaw was set, lips pursed in a line; there was nothing of the usual glimmer in his grey-blue eyes.

Behind those clear pools, a storm of indecision churned more violently than the vortex without. Military training bent towards one purpose; unthinking, unquestioning obedience. And for all some HoloNet channels called him prince, Erastus was, at the end of the day, a military man. Never had such instincts, ingrained in all the years of Apollyon's service, been so tested than the minute, nay, the second that orders from Darth Vesper had been received by the communications terminal on Vitae, coming to softly glowing life before his eyes with a single, fateful chime.

Vesper's orders had contained, in Erastus' eyes, an impossible contradiction. That the fleet was to rendezvous in the Saijo system, with all haste, was made abundantly clear. Vesper had specified that no stops were to be made; the passage was to be immediate and continuous. Yet, Vesper had also tacked on instructions to find the Empress. His Empress. This implied that Kára could not be found on Saijo, else Vesper would not have needed her to be recovered, and this squared with the transmission the Moff Council had received from the Horuset system less than an hour previously, activating the protocols of Operation Darkfire, and Erastus' own knowledge of Kára's whereabouts: attending the annual great feast of the New Sith Order on Korriban.

Erastus knew what Darkfire meant. The anxiety that had blossomed within his gut had calcified to terror, as reports had streamed in from across the galaxy. The great enemy was here. The HoloNet was aflame with the fell news of every slaughter, from the periphery of the Rim to the ecumenpoli of the Core. The galaxy was under attack, and the dead walked the worlds of the living. The scale of the invasion could not be put into words; it defied every expectation, those secret forecasts Kára alone had possessed the knowledge to make, implying an empire vaster than anything even the uncharted territories of this galaxy could contain. Erastus feared the civilised galaxy would fall within the week.

This was no conquest. This was destruction.

What then could he do? Against such reckless hate, such relentless terror, the New Galactic Empire was doomed. Operation Darkfire seemed altogether inadequate; no device of cunning, no force of arms, no plan or scheme crafted by mortal minds could withstand the overwhelming power and atrocious malevolence of the enemy. Erastus understood that now. What then could he do?

Every instinct within him had told him to ignore Vesper's authority, to leverage his own station as Grand Vizier to command the entirety of the Imperial fleet to puncture the nebulous shroud of the Stygian Caldera and ensure Kára's safety. But what if Vesper's orders had reflected Kára's own will? What if the enemy infested the Caldera like a swarm, ready to destroy any ships sent to intercept them? Was Erastus really ready to bet the entire martial might of the New Galactic Empire upon a rescue mission that had not been asked of him, when the destruction of the fleet would only mean Kára's death days later, as the galaxy fell into darkness?

No, there was a reason why unquestioning obedience of orders was ingrained within every soldier, every officer, no matter his rank. As such, Erastus could only attempt to interpret the ambiguous instructions in the most comprehensive manner possible, after his clarification-seeking reply had failed to gain an immediate response. The fleet was coming to Saijo, and Erastus could only hope Kára would be waiting for him there, that Vesper had intended for him to find the Empress upon Saijo's surface, that Vesper herself had not made it to Saijo yet, hence the wording that would imply Kára was elsewhere (and thus explaining Vesper's lack of reply, for holographic communication was impossible in hyperspace).

And if the Empress was yet confined on Korriban... Well, Erastus had covered his bases. He had ordered the deployment of several ships to the Horuset system, including a pet project Erastus had rushed to completion over the last year, a Star Destroyer with stealth capabilities equalling that of the infamous Knight Hammer of the previous century. Few enough in number to mitigate the risk, and yet with unique technology to pull off the impossible, if the impossible revealed itself to be necessary.

“Sir?” a female voice, modulated by the white plasteel helm of a Stormtrooper commander, pulled Erastus from his reverie. “The girl, sir, as you requested.” The Stormtrooper’s gloved hand grasped the diminutive digits of young Eva.


TAG: @Darth Kain

IC: Cruella Vandron
Landing pad, Sith Garrison, Axum

Soil showered her robes, as plumes of dust and dirt exploded into the air all around her. The cavalry had come, unleashing a veritable tsunami of plasma into the advancing infantry behind, but as Cruella raced towards the lowered landing ramp of the Legatus, she feared they had come too late.

While she had not underestimated the distance between the shambling abominations and her person, she had not accounted for the length of their pikes, cruel brass tips lowering as the living statues hastened their pursuit, and as the Force screamed in warning, she knew her mistake could prove fatal. Ducking and weaving around the jabs from behind, following each aetheric impulse of instinct and preternatural perception, she ran towards the boarding ramp, all eyes on the three figures that were to be her rescuers.

Every blast of Omegon’s disruptor sent a brass soldier sprawling, limbs and joints popping loose, and for a moment Cruella’s hopes were renewed, sensing the tumbling chaos behind her, a brief reprieve in the stabbing thrusts. Yet the clanking automatons were relentless, and their mass lent them a momentum not easily countered, and those not felled by Omegon’s unique weapons were not stayed in their charge by Rayge’s telekinetic might, nor did they melt in the flames of Shadowsun’s pyrokinetic prowess.

And so, just as Bordst reached the boarding ramp, the inevitable occurred; a spear shot past Cruella’s overtaxed senses, and the blade sunk into the back of her knee. She fell with a cry, just as a ribbon of silhouetted black shot by overhead, a Stormtrooper’s failed attempt to retrieve her with a cable gun. Omegon had planned well, but few plans survived the first few seconds of contact with the enemy, and as Cruella screamed, spears sinking into her flesh, and statues swarmed Tobbi Airskipper, pulling his bleeding body into the mass of clawing bronze, it became apparent that Bordst would be the only one saved this day.

“We need to get out of here!” Teracotus shouted. The wall of brass was only five meters away.


TAGs: @Kint Dranlor, @Darth Kratos, @Rayge, @Dorrian Shadowsun

OOC: A simple d20 (with Dexterity Modifier) against DC 10 will be rolled to determine whether Bordst is able to make it to the Legatus in time. The roll is 16 - 1, and Bordst is able to board. Cruella rolls a 3 + 2, and fails; a simple d20 against DC 10 is rolled to determine whether Omegon’s plan to retrieve a straggler with a cable gun works, and a roll of 7 results in failure. An automatic failure is arbitrated for Tobbi Airskipper, due to player withdrawal.

Omegon rolls 8 + 13 + 5 for his Attack Roll, hitting many (arbitrated as ten) Brass Legionaries with his disruptor and inflicting 7 + 1 Damage, reducing their HP to 2. Rayge rolls a 9 + 10, failing to affect any Brass Legionaries with his telekinetic attack, and Shadowsun rolls a 7 + 10, failing to burn or melt the Brass Legionaries.
 
Last edited:

Darth Kain

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Moderator
Dark Council
Immortalis
IC: Eva
A Dark Forest


A celestial symphony played through the frigid air, the breeze causing the trees to whisper a song only few could understand. She pulled the jacket tighter around her, hoping the vain act could somehow stop the wind from chilling her to the bone. A shiver escaped her, shaking her to the same frequency as the trembling leaves above. Her shoes, once easily able to crush the snow beneath her feet, grew soggy and cold. She could barely see ahead of her, the canopies blocking what little moonlight could reach her here. Only a bit further, she thought. Just a few more steps.

Picsart_22-03-30_20-40-08-124.jpgAnd she was right. After one more pass through the brisk brush, she found herself in the clearing she had been looking for. No snow survived here, only lush, green grass, and a fire at its center. One could mistake the fire as the one responsible for the warmth here. But it was not. This kind of warmth went beyond thawing her frigid flesh, heating her benumbed bones. It penetrated her very soul, giving her the hope that she could survive the cold, the darkness. That nothing could touch her, so long as it existed. The one responsible was not the fire, but the man who rested next to it.

The light illuminated the emerald glow of his eyes, and the tender smile on his face. He had been known by many names in his time. The Son of Suns, to those aware of ill-fated prophecy. The Seed of Chaos, to those who feared his reckoning. The Dark Messiah, to those that worshiped the very ground he walked. The Beloved King of the Stars, to those that would follow him to the ends of time. But she knew him by a different title, one far more meaningful than any paltry honorific one could muster.

She knew him as her father.

“Come closer,” he said. “We don’t need you getting sick from a little cold now, do we?”

She chuckled, getting closer to the fire before sitting down in the grass next to him. Her hands hovered just outside the flames, feeling as if a thin layer of ice on her skin was melting away.

“What were you doing out there, anyway?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Well, then you and I have something in common. I don’t know why I’m here either.”

“You don’t?”

“No. But I suppose if you were out here, wandering in the cold, perhaps that is reason enough.”


She smiled. “I know this is a dream.”

Kain chuckled. “What gave it away?”

“Because I know you’re away on important business, and because I remember falling asleep back home.”

“Important business. Right.”
He looked longingly into the flames for a moment; she knew he wished he did not have to go.

“When will you be back?” she asked.

He stared into the flames for a moment longer, not a word spoken. She could have been mistaken, but it looked like his eyes were beginning to water. “I am not sure,” he finally said.

“Well, when you do come back, we’ll have a real feast waiting for you. One you don’t have to worry about getting poisoned at.”

“And since I’m not cooking it, it won’t be burnt,”
he laughed. “I’m looking forward to it already.”

She did not know why, but the compulsion to say it began to tear away at her, as if something was warning her it would be the last time she would ever get to say it. Eva turned to her father, the cold of the forest finally, and utterly, driven away, as she said the words. “I love you, dad.”

His gaze turned away from the flames, and found her eyes. She could see now that he was crying. But she had no time to ask why.

“I love you, too.”

Without warning, the fire before her died. Darkness returned just as quickly as it had been driven away. Her eyes desperately searched for her father, but he too had disappeared. The cold was stronger than it had been before, burrowing past the material and freezing the immaterial. Her heart felt as if it was trying to escape her numb, shivering form through her throat. She could not breathe. She could not blink. Her tears had frozen her eyes forever open. The warmth that had sheltered her, given her hope, and a home, was gone.

IC: Darth Abaddon
Phoenix Manor, Vitae

“I awoke in an unknown place, a keep within the asteroid, I later learned. Its interiors were lavish but antiquated, dating back centuries, perhaps longer. I had little time to explore, for I was soon met by my hosts: three women who identified themselves as the Sisters.”

- Datapad Found in a Deserted Ship, Catalog #099.9.1624-0, File #702108

She recoiled at the mention of them. The memories may not have been her own, but it did not matter. Abaddon remembered those vile women through the subconscious that had been fused into her own mind. She remembered their cruel tricks, their ensnaring ways. How they had trapped her, no, it inside their accursed spellbook, then released it in an effort to destroy one of the only enemies to ever escape their grasp.

Abaddon often used the nights alone to continue studying the past, as had been her center of interest ever since Darth Dreadwar freed her from her four-thousand-year slumber. It had been many years since she met the Dread King, and in that time she had been quite thorough in her studies. After all, she had missed so much history in all that lost time; it was only fitting that she learned it all.

And so she did, reading every text, every scroll, and every article that she came across. She knew of the Old Republic, where heroes like Revan, the Exile, and the Outlander battled the forces of evil, such as Darth Malak, Darth Nihilus, and Darth Vitiate. Or, well, the texts had called the former heroes and the latter villains. Obviously the books on Korriban had different opinions. In Abaddon’s mind, quite a few of these figures in history were simply broken, either lashing out at all the galaxy or lashing out at who they blamed for ruining the galaxy. Perhaps that rang true even today.

But she had read beyond the Great Galactic War. She knew of the Brotherhood of Darkness, of their fall at the hands of Darth Bane, and the eventual fall of the Republic at the hands of Darth Sidious. Well, the momentary fall; a twenty-or-so-year reign was child’s play in the grand scheme of things. Regardless, she had been reading more into those years ever since Kain introduced her to Eva. At first, that had been the only real way she and Eva connected. With Kain often gone on Sithly business, thanks to every Lord and Lady in the Order seemingly needing his aid in some matter here or there, it was Abaddon that had to teach Eva what happened after her carbonite freezing. It was an easy thing to bond over; they were both women out of time, scrambling to find their place in a strange, new galaxy. The only difference had been what side they were on before their lives changed so suddenly.

House Mecetti had been firmly on the side of the dark, that had been certain. Her family had revered the ancient Sith, and the news of Exar Kun’s fall to the dark side had been celebrated by them. Of course, Abaddon had spent most of that time tracking her sister down, finding her revering a different ancient being. Zelashiel had been named a blasphemer for her beliefs then. If only their family could see her now, leading the Sith into a time of unity against the Federation. Her success must have been what triggered such a strange sensation just minutes ago, like all of the Republic and its people were crying out in terror. The thought brought a small, cruel smile to her.

But where Abaddon had come from the dark, Eva had come from the light. She was born on Alderaan, if the documents Abaddon procured were accurate. Born as Eva Celchu, she was taken in by the Jedi Order after being sensed by an unnamed Jedi Master. Any records of who that Jedi was seemed to have been lost during Order 66, and Eva was too young to remember; she did not even remember living on Alderaan. A shame she never got the chance to return to her home planet. But that was besides the point. She was raised as a Jedi, learning at the feet of some of the most renowned Masters to ever exist. And then it was all snatched away.

Abaddon could admit feeling some pity for the girl, having lost so much in the blink of an eye. But she had gained so much more than she ever could have gotten as a Jedi. She had a home, a loving family, and a chance to become whatever she wished. That was more than Abaddon had gotten as a child.

But now she found herself reading through old documents about this encounter with the cult of Sisters, including the last words of this poor fool that encountered them. Beware the dark places of the galaxy. Unlucky for those witches that the last man they captured was a walking torch.

She sighed, closing out of the document on her datapad and relaxing in her chair. Kain would likely be home within the next couple of days. He had told her what the plan was, how Apollyon was going to crown Volshe as Empress of the Sith so that there could be unity among the Order. And while Abaddon was happy for her sister during her time as Regent, she knew it wasn’t the job for her. There was a sadness in her eyes during their last conversation, as if more than just the disappearance of the Emperor was weighing on her. She couldn’t blame her sister for feeling the way she did. Dreadwar had given her a purpose, even four-thousand years ago. He had been the dark light that had guided her throughout her entire life. And even if Abaddon had always wished Apollyon spent less time worshiping the ground Dreadwar hovered over, she would still always care for her sister. If being Regent of the Sith was as much of a chore as she imagined it was, she was more than happy to have Apollyon give the crown to Volshe. And if any of the more aggressive claimants to the throne tried to deny the will of their new Empress, Abaddon knew that Kain would turn them to ash without a second thought.

And then he would come home. Finally. He had told her so.

“After this, there’ll be no more Federation, no more squabbling Sith worth giving thought to. We can finally start building our life together.” He placed his hand on her stomach, his warmth making the life inside her feel all the more real.

“What if she asks for you to come back to Korriban? What if she wants you to be her Vengeance again?”

Kain smiled. “I’ll tell her, ‘No.’”

“But isn’t she…”

“She is. That wouldn’t change my answer. We’re both immortal. She can afford to rule on her own for a couple of decades.”


He held her closer, and she melted in his arms. She had always wondered what his intentions were with her and Eva. After all, neither of them were as he was. Would he leave them unspoiled by immortality, so they may live normal lives? Would he find a way to keep them alive forever, so they could never leave his side? It had been a question she was scared to ask him. But she didn’t question him then. The moment was too perfect to squander. She had decided she would ask him when he returned. After all, when he returned from Korriban, they would have the rest of their lives to worry about it.


The growl of her stomach brought her back to the present. She had studied enough for the night; a snack before bed wouldn’t hurt. And so she headed downstairs, from her study on the second floor to the kitchen on the first. Her hand glided along the wall, fingers dragging along smooth stone. Each step down was a chore, her legs not used to the weight that she now had. Her belly was growing larger with each passing day, and with the strange perception of time here on Vitae, according to Kain, more days seemed to pass here than anywhere else. It was a concept almost too fantastical for her to comprehend. Almost. She had seen plenty more fantastical things than the dilation of time. After all, she was going to marry one of the most fantastical beings in all the galaxy.

She made her way down into the kitchen and opened the conservator, staring deep into the stores of cold, delicious food for what felt like an eternity. The chill of the fridge began to eat away at her. Indecision was plaguing her, now, of all things. She soon went with her gut - literally - and grabbed a jar of d’il pyykkle spears. She closed the fridge door and went to sit the jar on the nearby counter, but froze. The cold of the conservator had not disappeared. It was getting worse. The freezing air had formed a veritable icicle, and drove it directly into her heart. The world began to spin. She had not even noticed that the jar had slipped out of her hand, glass shattering and pyykkles flying. She leaned on the counter, trying to gain her balance in this sudden bout of nausea.

It was so cold.

The Force began to wail a terrible cry, threatening to shatter her eardrums. Her heart beat with the power of a star. Her legs wanted to give way. She wanted to lie on the ground, to get away from this feeling of terror.

Abaddon heard the final cry of the Beloved King of the Stars. And then, it was snuffed out.

Silence. Cold. Death.

Darth Abaddon the Devoted cried out in horror.

IC: Eva
Phoenix Manor, Vitae


“He used to work in here,” said the droid, opening the door for the young girl. “I suppose if he is truly gone, he will not mind you being here now.”

This was the study of Darth Kain. Locked for weeks at a time, only occupied when Kain was present at his home, this room held many secrets that Eva had never even believed to exist. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and filling those shelves were tomes that, should the spines be any indicator, were written in languages that Eva could not read. A desk made from the wood of a wroshyr tree sat in the center, with the chair facing the doorway. Behind the desk, on the wall, rested the fearsome blade that Kain wielded against his enemies. Eva did not want to know how many beings her father had killed. That was not how she wanted to remember him.

It had been a day since she and Abaddon had felt his passing. Eva had been trained by the Jedi to celebrate the passing of a loved one, to know with all her heart that they had become one with the Force, and that they would know peace. But this was different. Her father had not joined the Force in some mutual harmony. She would have felt that. No, he was… he was gone. Utterly. Where she had expected to feel peace, she felt nothing at all.

That was the worst part of it. She had expected that one day, when she herself would die and pass on into the Force, that she would get to reunite with all those she cared for. With the Jedi of the old Council, that had guided her through her childhood. With Master Shi’nok, who had been her greatest friend during her years as a Jedi. With Kain and Abaddon, the only loving parents she had ever known. But to know, when the time came, that she would not find her father on the other side… that broke her more than losing him in the first place. The shattered pieces of her heart had been crushed to dust. And now she felt undead, roaming aimlessly among the halls of the manor like a zombie from some scary holoflick.

“I saw the ships landing outside,” said Eva. “What’s happening now?”

“Lady Vesper has called for Lord Erastus and his forces here to leave,”
answered T1-FA.

“Why?”

“They were not privy to disclosing more with a nanny droid, my lady.”


Eva had always liked Erastus. Without a doubt he was the nicest of the Imperials that adjourned here on Vitae, after Kain made a deal with the Empress to house some of her people here. The manor had been large enough that even with over a dozen new occupants, Erastus, Prim, and Deianara included, that the halls still felt remarkably empty. The first manor had not been nearly so large, but Eva had gathered that that was the point. A phoenix was stronger after it rose from the ashes, not before.

She placed her hands on the desk and sighed. “So it will be just the three of us again.” She, of course, referred to herself, Abaddon, and the droid. But there was a long pause after she asked. A worrying one.

“Lord Erastus has requested that Lady Abaddon accompany him on his journey. I will be taking care of you while they are gone.”

No. I can’t be left alone. Not now.

“What use does he have with her?” Eva demanded, her words laced with venom. “When my fa-- when Kain died, she lost her connection to the Force. It’s been severed. And she’s pregnant. She can’t fight.”

“To my understanding, it is more for her knowledge and relationship with Lady Apollyon that has required her presence aboard the Akorec.”


Without warning, a flash of darkness leapt onto the table, landing softly with barely a noise. Eva would have jumped, had she not grown used to the loth cat seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Corvar nuzzled against her arms, begging in his own way for even an ounce of attention. Reluctantly, she afforded him that attention. He began to purr as her fingers mindlessly scratched his back.

She couldn’t lose anyone else. She wouldn’t allow it. Abaddon was at her most vulnerable, and the Sith wanted to send her off to die the same way that Kain did. It was madness. It was barbaric. Eva seethed with gritted teeth, her scratches on Corvar’s back growing more and more fierce until the cat decided it had enough, giving a warning nip at her fingers before leaping off of the table and running out of the room. The bite had not pierced the skin, but it had shocked Eva out of her tumultuous trance.

Sudden realization came over her, and she realized what she had to do.

“Could I have some time in here?” she asked. “Alone?”

“Of course. But do not take too long. I am sure Lady Abaddon will want to say goodbye.”

“Okay.”


T1-FA stepped out of the room and closed the door. She had expected silence to greet her. But it did not. Thumping in her ear was the sound of a heartbeat. Reason would have quickly decided that it was her own, but reason was being contested, because she could swear that it sounded like it came from the sword hanging on the wall…

She ignored the nagging feeling, attributing it to some strange echo in the Force, and sat at his desk. Light from the nearby window glared in her eyes, and so with a wave of her hand, blinds obscured the natural light from blinding her further. Or so she thought. One of the blinds, it seemed, was bent in a peculiar way. A single beam of light still found its way into the room, its ray directed at a single book on a nearby shelf. Curious.

Eva went to the shelf and, after standing on her tiptoes, withdrew the book from the shelf and sat it on his desk. It was much thinner than the rest of the other books on the wall, and unlike many of them, it was written in Basic. But not just any standard Basic, no. This was in Kain’s handwriting. It was a journal.Picsart_22-03-30_20-40-42-088.jpg

She had every desire in the galaxy to read it. To know the man she called her father with more certainty. Even if a small, nagging part of her chided herself for rummaging through his things and invading his privacy, the rest of her knew that he would not mind. Not now.

But as her fingers fumbled for the first page, she heard the knob of the door begin to turn. Without a second thought, she slipped the journal beneath her seat, sitting on it as a familiar face entered the room.

“T1-FA already told you,” said Abaddon, very matter-of-factly.

“She did.”

“I know you don’t want to be left alone again. Force knows that I don’t want to have to leave.”

“Then why are you doing it? Why don’t you stay?”


Abaddon let out a sad sigh before closing the door behind her. “Because I have a responsibility to uphold, Eva.”

“You don’t owe the Sith anything.”

“Maybe not. But I owe my sister everything.”
Abaddon stood at the desk now. “She’s stuck on Korriban. We don’t know all the details, but whatever forces that attacked them at the feast are still attacking them now. I…” She wavered. “I lost Kain. And I’m not losing Zelashiel, too.”

“But I don’t want to lose you too.”
Eva was sobbing now, resting her head against the desk with her arms vainly trying to shield her crying from her adopted mother.

Tears welled in Abaddon’s eyes, but none fell. All of her tears had been spent on Kain. She had none left.

The Sith Lady circled the table and wrapped her arms around Eva. “I know, dear. I know.”

* * *

“We’re about to enter hyperspace,” said one of the crew. “Should be a smoother trip than the one on the way here.”

The Akorec was an impressive ship, that was certain. Even among other Imperious-class Star Destroyers that she had seen, though that had not been very many. She had never thought that she would ever have to stowaway on one such vessel, but then again, there were many things that had happened in the past few days that she never thought could happen.

Eva sat crouched in the corner of the cargo hold, her pack full of essentials next to her. Preserved food, water, a few boxes of quint-berry juice, her lightsaber, her father’s journal. Everything she would need to survive the trip to… wherever they were going. It didn’t matter. They could be heading to Korriban, where the enemy that killed her father still fought. They could be heading to Coruscant, which had apparently fallen to that same enemy. She would make sure that her mother survived. That her new sibling would survive. She swore it.

“Wait, what happened on the way here?” asked another member of the crew. Eva could overhear them quite clearly, but they were thankfully oblivious to her presence.

“You didn’t hear? What, are you living under a rock?”

“No, I live under these damn cargo containers.”


They shared a chuckle. “Well, apparently the old calculations for going through the Maw had to get changed partway through the trip.”

“Why? The droids forget how to count?”

“No, apparently a new black hole formed since the last time we used this route.”

“We almost flew into a damn black hole and no one told me?”

“If we did fly into a black hole you would’ve known the same time as the rest of us, old man.”


Eva sat silent in her corner, sullen at the thought. She remembered learning about black holes, and how sometimes they were formed upon the death of a star…

A new voice shook her from her thoughts. One female and modulated.

“Out of the way, you two. Get back to work,” the woman said.

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

She could hear the feet of the crewmates scurrying away, and the footsteps of the woman growing nearer. Eva quickly reached for her lightsaber, but by the time her thumb was on the ignition switch, ready to press, the woman had already found her. It was a Stormtrooper, dressed in their standard white plasteel. Even with the helmet on, Eva could tell there was a look of disappointment on the trooper’s face.

“Don’t hurt yourself with that, kid. Now come on. Lord Erastus wants to see you.”


Picsart_22-03-30_20-34-08-847.jpg

Eva was confused. “How did you know I was here?”

That look of disappointment just had to be continuing when the trooper pointed up, directly towards a blinking security camera. Eva was more embarrassed than anything else as she took the trooper’s hand and stood, taking her pack with her.

The walk down the long halls of the Akorec had not taken as long as Eva had thought it would, and she eventually found herself standing on the bridge of the massive Star Destroyer. Erastus was standing there, legs splayed with his back to the cerulean vortex of hyperspace. His usual sweet, kind demeanor seemed to have been left back at Vitae. Something was plaguing his mind with doubt, but Eva had no way of knowing what.

“Sir?” said the Stormtrooper. “The girl, sir, as you requested.”

Eva crossed her arms. “You caught me. What happens now?”

TAG:
@Darth Dreadwar
 

Attachments

  • Picsart_22-03-30_20-40-08-124.jpg
    Picsart_22-03-30_20-40-08-124.jpg
    152.1 KB · Views: 0

Dorrian Shadowsun

Active member
IC: Dorrian Shadowsun
Location: Landing pad, Sith Garrison, Axum


Realizing that his flames were not having the desired effect on the wall of unrelenting brass automatons, he dropped his hold on the flames, letting them fizzle naturally on their own, instead offering his hand to Bordst as they reached the ramp. Just as he clasped his massive hand onto Bordst's shoulder his eyes were flooded with the image of Curella's demise. Her knee took the would that would prove her downfall, having pushed herself to the brink of exhaustion in her escape attempt. A cable whizzed by her, missing by inches just as she fell, sealing her fate.

Dorrian watched, teeth clenched as Curella and Tobi were both overrun by the inevitable wall of armored brass that refused to change pace or be destroyed. Hatred seethed inside him at watching one of their comrades cut down by these irritating, mechanical abominations. Wrapping his tail around nearby support to steady himself he clenched his fists before extending his fingers and letting loose with a mighty scream.

Pooling his emotions into a bitter, spiteful storm, Dorrian released a dazzling display of acrid, malevolent savagery. Blinding, burning snakes of twisted, erratic lightning burst from his outstretched fingers toward their unrelenting brass foes. He knew that it was a last-ditch effort to stall them even slightly, as brass wasn't very conductive but as an insulator, it would generate immense amounts of heat and hopefully either melt or short out their systems.


His primary hope now was that he could buy them enough time to get them out of there.


Powers Used:

Force Lightning - 3








@Darth Kratos, @Rayge, @Darth Dreadwar
 

Omegon

Well-known member
Through the crashing of metal boots and the screaming of starship engines in his ears, Omegon could barely make out the sounds of battle. But he saw the deaths of the acolyte and the Sith lady with perfect clarity, watching spears punch through their flesh with disturbing ease. All it took was one slip, and down they went under the stabbing blades of the ancient statues, blood pooling under their twitching bodies as the statues mercilessly plunged their spears into the Sith over and over again.
His eyes widened in horror at the swift lethality of the statues, realizing the danger they were all in. “Get back! Back to the shuttle now!” Backing up towards the shuttle, he spoke into his helmet vox to the pilot without ceasing his firing, his finger depressing the trigger of his pistol again and again and sending sizzling bolts of superheated energy into the emotionless swathes of metallic soldiers. “Lift us up out of range of those spears.” The others should have time to get on, if they moved now. But he would not sacrifice the shuttle if they were too slow; their survival was on their own shoulders.

Turning to the troopers still inside the shuttle, he took the cablegun from the most stunned looking of them, and then spoke to the rest of them. “We need one of those statues to take back to the Aximand. Rayge, use your telekinesis. The rest of you, make use of your cableguns with me.” Looking out the ramp, Omegon sighted down the barrel at the nearest of the brass soldiers. A green laser dot shot from beneath the cablegun, marking out the target for the other shooters as well. “Fire!” he pulled the trigger, and watched as the cablegun projectile flashed through the air at its target, hoping his aim, and that of the stormtroopers, would be true. One would theoretically be enough, but a dozen couldn’t hurt, he knew.

As they fired their cables, below them on the ramp Shadowsun unleashed a crackling storm of force lightning, aiming to blast the statues back, tear them apart, and hurl them away from the ship as it began to lift of, engines screaming as they projected heat and kinetic force out of the back of the shuttle. So much loss, for so little gain. Omegon only hoped it would be worth it; they needed to know what was going on.

Tags: @Darth Kratos @Darth Dreadwar @Rayge @Dorrian Shadowsun
 

The Eternal Sith Empire Forums

The Eternal Sith Empire Forums is a new home for one of the largest online Sith roleplaying and fan communities on the internet. We welcome you to join us in discussing lore, socializing, sharing fanart and fanfiction, roleplaying in our vast number of RPGs, and more.

ESE on Facebook

  • The Final Sith Order
  • Help and Resources

  • FAQ
  • Rules
  • TOS
  • Members online

    No members online now.
    Top Bottom