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

Darth Dreadwar

Active member
Immortalis
GM Update Part I

IC: Darth Venomis

Mindscape

Sheer, blistering hatred greeted Viscretus. It swept over her like a fell wind, smothering the illusory fires around her, and causing the lights within her womb to flicker. It burnt like ice.

“You will endure nothing.” All subtlety and seduction had drained from Venomis' voice, now, leaving only the low, daemoniacal intent of imminent violation. “If you will not be swayed, then you will be destroyed, and in your corpse shall I fester, drowning your unborn children until the flood of Mnggal-Mnggal is unleashed once more.”

Out of the roiling blackness, the island of stone reappeared, striations of imagining painting its vague outlines, the white-robed man standing at its edge. Black eyes bored into Viscretus' own. “Now, spawn of the young Skyriver... You will die.” And then Darth Venomis raised his hands, crooked fingers splayed, and lightning gathered at his palms.

In further recesses of the immaterial, in the mental abyss of memory and seduction, that same horrid power stared into Catalyst’s retreating gaze. Here, the air was alive with electricity of a different sort, dancing across Catalyst’s skin like the skittering legs of a spider, as the black-lacquered talons of Apollyon reached in entreaty. “Then let me be your wine,” she smiled, white teeth bared. “And let us talk no more.” Again she leaned towards him, the saccharine scent of rot sweet upon her breath, tongue hanging limply in a pose more necrotic than erotic.

A snake preparing to strike, yet many were its dead mouths and its foul heads, and in another cavern of memory, the dust-choked air filled with a serpentine hiss of surprise, as the reptomammalian Iktotchi reared back. Oily liquid, blacker than ink, covered its wrinkled, rugose features, its finely-spun needles of teeth. “How dare you!” Havok cried. “What has possessed you, Volcryn? Have the spirits of this tomb driven you mad?!”


TAGs: @Admiral Volshe, @Catalyst, @Ānhrā Māhnîu

OOC: Darth Venomis prepares to attack! Deprived of the power siphoned from the countless Force-sensitives amongst his former horde of host vessels, courtesy of Darth Kain, Venomis will be reduced to his native power of Level 50 for the duration of the battle.

Viscretus has not fallen prey to Venomis' deceptions, and incurs no penalties.

Darth Catalyst, let us combo your response for this round!





IC: Necro Solaar
Fountain Palace, Hapes

Scarlet energy ruptured from the breast of the fallen Twi’lek, corkscrewing through the air in tendrilous ribbons of ethereal life-force, a trickle of blood sluicing into the outstretched palm of Darth Traya. Necro had hoped to prolong the assassin’s agony, but he supposed they were on a schedule, and politely stepped away, leaving the arrow embedded in the sister’s flesh as she twitched and breathed her last. By the time Traya’s curse had abated, the Twi’lek was dead.

Packets of plasma, streaming from the smoking barrels of personal holdout pistols, put her twin out of her misery.

Solaar surveyed the scene for only a moment, before straightening and turning, facial features schooled into an expression of boredom. “I suggest we tarry not overly long in figuring out the details of this attempt on your life, Your Majesty,” he said. “Dromund Kaas awaits, and I suggest we make haste to the control throne at once,” he gestured ahead to the doors, “and prepare for flight configuration.”

Evidently, Solaar was familiar with the most tightly-held secret of the Chumes, a secret that, in all of Hapes’ history, had only leaked once to the most intimate circles of galactic intelligence, thanks to a threat assessment known as Cracken’s dossier; that the Star Home, the legendary flagship of the Hapan fleet, was not merely a replica of the Fountain Palace, but indeed was the fabled castle that overlooked Aurelia Chume’Dan, a floating fortress that could detach from its perch upon the bluff to soar into the seraphic heights of space. Controls in the throne’s armrests allowed the Fountain Palace to transform into flight configuration in minutes, and from there, the Queen Mothers could pilot their home.

A subtle smile played upon Solaar’s lips, an acknowledgement of the secret.

TAG: @Darth Traya


OOC: Darth Traya attempts Drain Life, succeeding with an Attack Roll of 16 + 19 + 10 against DC 10, inflicting 13 + 4 Damage, and reducing the right sister’s HP to 0. Nearby guardsmen and nobles open fire upon the left sister at Traya’s comand, rolling 10 + 5 against DC 10, and succeeding, inflicting 6 Damage, reducing the target’s HP to 0. Both assassins are dead.
 

Jen'nu

Legendary Member
Moderator
Dark Council
Chapter XV: Lordship over Life
IC: Ānhrā Māhnîu.
Mindscape.

Inferno Straw:



‘’Its third gift is the light itself: as days are defined by the nights that divide them, as stars are defined by the infinite black in which they wheel, the dark embraces the light and brings it forth from the center of its own self.
With each victory of the light, it is the dark that wins.
’’

- Document of uncertain origin, theorized to be the work of a cultist known as Stover.


The demonic reminiscence of Darth Havok stumbled backwards in a flailing fury, gabbling incredulous insults with almost comedic credibility. Yet the being standing before him did not flinch facing this performance. The facts of time and space had long since faded away.
All that mattered here was the mind of Ānhrā Māhnîu.
All that mattered here was the mind that shaped reality.
His head tilted childishly, a sneering grin spread across his face. With the chanting of dead and living following his breath, he spoke the truth.

‘’Mad? Possessed? Daring? I am the only thing here. I am all that is real. You are not even a ghost, merely my possession.’’

image0-7.jpgThe Jen’nu could not truly be bothered to give the departed its seemingly desired attention. His focus was drawn beyond the defunct dream taking on the form of a dead Darth. Casually glancing around the ancient chamber, there was nothing but abyssal darkness. Just as the tenebrous terror that had brought him here. And his suspicions of what exactly that was grew stronger every instant.
‘’You are no more than an illusion, Darth Havok,’’ he declared, the formality dripping with derision.
‘’You are no more than a figment of imagination, conjured from misread memory.’’ The snide scorn from just a sentence before had already switched to flares of fury.
‘’You are no more than a parlor trick, a cheap distraction. And your conjuror has failed to comprehend.’’ Now he spoke directly to the void.
‘’This is my mind, my sphere. My temple, my kingdom, my realm!’’ The towering apparition of Ānhrā Māhnîu spread its arms, voluminous sleeves as ashen wings.

‘’I am everything here! And I shall have everything in existence. Nothing shall stand in the way of fulfillment, least of all some dejected sea of rotten slime. Here there is only my will.’’

A draconic glare burned itself into the nyxious gloom beyond the chamber. Memories of things to come were surfacing. As if sight had dispersed across the fabric of reality, the Jen’nu beheld his own reality, tumbling through a phantasmagoric kaleidoscope of deadly daydreams.
Yet all he had eyes for would be the infernal light that was Ānhrā Māhnîu.
Surrounded by a slime-sea of transcendent terror, all he could see was himself.
Driven by the divine will of all-encompassing desire, the slithering smokey cloak surrounding him transmuted into defined substance, the sinuous shape of plumage cloth wrapping itself around the avian luminary. White-hot twin stars spilled their incandescent glow into the empty lacuna. His fire was rising.

Not even atoms beneath what passed for skin, he found the fiery hunger that drove him ever forward. Just as flames forever spread, craving and growing with every breath, so would he. This darkness would burn away, until only fire remained. The blessed inferno that was Ānhrā Māhnîu would spread across every quark. Enveloping all things. Exploring all things. Gaining all things. Being all things. As an entity of omnipresence, omniscience, and omnipotence, he would transcend. And all life would transcend with him.
All he had to do was live.


‘’Now I shall have you all.’’

r834402_7721995.jpgAnd this thing, this creature, this abomination, not worthy of any name, would take it all away from him. Every shred of spirit, every corporeal particle, every aspect of his being revolted with vehement savagery. From the moment he had chosen to betray Havok and seize immortality for himself, his new longing had continued to bloom. And Ānhrā Māhnîu knew.
‘’To all those who would to take anything from me. No matter who. Or what. Or where. Or when. Or why. I will not hesitate to take everything from you.’’ The soul of Ānhrā Māhnîu fulminated, erupting in a galactic filament of livid ecstasy.

Blazing floods of mental blood pulsed outward. They coalesced into luminous winged snakes, malformed simulacra of sentient beings, formless fiends; everything his mind could conjure. It enveloped the Jen’nu, raging against the utter blackness around him. This was the fire that would devour the darkness, give away its warmth, and cast its own shadows in turn. The purgatory roared.

‘’Now, Venomis, Black Son of the Red God, whoever and whatever you may be. All that you have, all that you are, I will have in due time. But none of me will ever be yours. You. Are. NOTHING! Now crawl on your knees, back into the chasm you came from, and burn forever.’’


Powers used(?):
(Mental?) Pyrokinesis(?) - 3 (Attacking Venomis)
(Mental?) Drain Force(?) - 4 (Attacking Venomis)


(TAGS: @Darth Dreadwar, @Admiral Volshe, @Catalyst)
 
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Leo Gorgano Tritum

Active member
Aaric Etherall Tritum
(GM Approved)


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Theme Song:
Prologue - Final Fantasy: Kingsglaive OST


Biography:

Aaric Etherall Tritum was born and lived during the height of the Great Jedi Purge to House Mecetti, on the planet of Nyssa, in the Tapani sector. He is an illegitimate son from Sir Nevil Tritum's tryst with a minor noble woman from House Mecetti's sworn enemies: House Pelagia.

Once the affair was brought to light, the noblewoman was cast out of House Pelagia. However, Nevil would not openly receive her into House Mecetti for fear of losing his standing. Thus, he took her in and allowed her to give birth to their son and raise him in secret within the confines of his residence. Nevil did not actively participate nor show any interest in Aaric's growth during his childhood days. Neither did he show care or concern for his mistress. This led to hatred and resentment within Aaric for his own and his mother's treatment.

Unfortunately, the last straw was when Aaric's mother was suddenly framed for treason against Nevil as well as High Lord Bodé Leobund XI and she was summarily executed. During the execution ceremony, Aaric intervened in an attempt to save his mother. But as a guard was about to approach and slay her son, the mistress threw herself into the path of the weapon and was killed. The shock of his mother's death triggered his latent force powers and he wreaked havoc upon the venue and it's bystanders.

Lady Brezwalt XIII, Nevil Tritum's official wife at the time, ordered the hidden members of the Mecrosa Order to subdue the boy. Finally, a sleep dart to the neck finally knocked him unconscious. Instead of killing the boy, Lady Brezwalt recognised Aaric's force potential, raising and training him within the Mecrosa Order's ranks to serve House Mecetti. Even so, Aaric's hatred and thirst for vengeance against Nevil, High Lord Bodé Leobund XI and also House Pelagia by his mother's association could not be diminished. He secretly plotted to overthrow the High Lord and execute his father like his mother was. But before he could put the plan to action, his intentions were brought to light and High Lord Bodé Leobund XI ordered Aaric to be executed.

Fortunately, Lady Brezwalt intervened once again and secretly placed Aaric to be frozen in Carbonite and put in storage for an indefinite amount of time until he can be unfrozen and his skills used for the good of House Mecetti and the Mecrosa Order once again. Eventually, he was forgotten and Aaric slept for years until recently (155ABY) when his Carbonite body was discovered and unfrozen by the current reigning High Lord.

Though Sir Nevil Tritum and High Lord Bodé Leobund XI was long gone, House Pelagia still lived. In awe of seeing how the Mecrosa Order had been bolstered in strength over time thanks to the efforts of Lord Vassago as well as its ties to the Sith Empire under Emperor Dreadwar, Aaric decided to focus his still smouldering vengeance on the complete eradication of the Pelagians as well as the Jedi by association.

He was permitted to re-train under the sponsorship of House Mecetti and subsequently sought permission and left Nyssa to train under the Sith Empire's Korriban academy.

He was taken under the wing of Master Baleros and was made a Knight after countless harrowing tasks. Armed with his newfound skills, knowledge and strength, it was finally time to return to the Tapani sector and invade the Jedi-loving Pelagians once and for all by invading their home planet of Pelagon under the false pretense of a peace treaty.

Since the end of the invasion, Aaric had been assisting in consolidating House Mecetti's growing power and influence in the region and has been looking forward in re-joining the Empire. Hopefully, he could see Keres Dymos again...


Name/Title: Aaric Etherall Tritum

Nicknames/Aliases: None

Age: 20

Sex: Male

Species: Human

Orientation (optional): Straight

Homeworld: Nyssa, Mecetti Province, Tapani Sector

Occupation: Nobleman

Height: 2 m / 6.5 ft

Weight: 75 kg / 165 lbs
Physical Description:
Bleached white, neck length hair that is swept pointed at the front. Tall, lean with a toned and muscular body and wide shoulders.

Clothing:
- Wears clothes typical of the Counts of Serenno, similar to Count Dooku.
- Mabari Armorweave cape and vest.
- Durasteel bracers and greaves.
- Duranium Armor covering entirety of left arm.

Weapons:
- Two curved hilt sabers with red blades
- Alba Leonis (An sword alchemized with level 3 force lightning produced and gifted by Darth Baleros in 155 ABY during knighting ceremony)
- Model 22T4 ISB Special Holdout Blaster

Equipment:
- Personal shield generator with spare diatium power cells

Vehicles: None

Pets (if applicable): None
Languages:
- Basic
- Herglic
- Mrlssi

Combat Skills:

As a nobleman, Aaric was schooled in fencing and was exceedingly natural at it to the point of being dubbed as one of the 'Saber Rakes' of old. This has supplemented his lightsaber style to be one of accuracy and precision regardless of the style he chose to learn. During his apprenticeship he briefly trained in Teras Kasi with the Sons of Palawa on Tatooine. This has allowed him to have the physical edge over force-powered individuals and provides limited protection against mind-based attacks. His initial training under the Mecrosa Order has also allowed him to blend into crowds, shadows and infiltrate lightly defended places. Allowing him to track a target or dissapear from a tail.

Other Strengths:

Schooled in the Tapani sector's best academies and institutions that only the major Houses could afford their noble children, Aaric is intelligent and witty. Diplomacy and administration is his second nature to him. Command over House defense forces has given him some limited military experience.
Flaws:

Because of his training, Aaric's fighting style is weak to brute force attacks if any manage to catch him off guard or work around his dodges, parries and ripostes. He hates the Jedi and House Pelagia with a passion and will lose his cool over anyone who disagrees with his view on the subject.

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Personality:

Cold, calm and calculating. Possesses an air of nobility and gravitas. Not easy to anger, but will lash out if his convictions are challenged. He will go after or investigate persons who interest him; researching information on the subject before confronting them. Though his apprenticeship had dissuaded him, he still finds the capacity to act out of honor even against enemies that have gained his respect. He acts gentlemanly as a noble should when conversing with females. He feels that everything and everyone has the capacity to serve the Sith and Empire.

Fears:

harm coming to the sparse few that he cares or is interested about, any evidence of the Jedi or House Pelagia gaining ground, power or victory

Likes:

Pursuing persons of interest, Endrolian ground apple juice (Fermented because it makes the drink slightly alcoholic despite its original non-alcoholic form)

Dislikes:

House Pelagia and their allies, The Jedi and their allies

Habits:

Says "What a waste" if someone or something dies or is destroyed before It can be used for the good of the Sith Order/Empire, drinks Endrolian Ground Apple Juice frequently during down times
Relationships/Love Interests:

Interested in Apprentice Keres Dymos since meeting briefly during his apprenticeship. They flirt and exchange witty remarks. However, Keres is reluctant to move onto something beyond mere words. Aaric has marked her as a potential partner and bides his time to slowly win her heart.

Friendships: Apprentice Keres Dymos

Masters: Darth Baleros (Formerly Knight Metus Aurelius)

Apprentices: None

Reputation:

Aaric's reputation is mostly limited even within the Empire and the Tapani sector. To everyone he is merely the right hand man to the House Mecetti High Lord and maybe a possible heir despite having no blood relations to him. In the Empire Aaric is only known to have successfully kidnapped a Federation Moff during his apprenticeship.

STR (Strength): 11
FPR (Force Power): 11
DEX (Dexterity): 11
INT (Intellect): 11
CON (Constitution): 10
MAN (Manipulation): 10
PER (Perception): 10
DES (Destiny): 10

Rank/Level: Knight
Base Class: Warrior
Subclass: Sith Marauder


Skills:
- Shii-Cho (1)
- Makashi (2)
- Shien/Djem So (2)
- Saber Throw(2)

- Augmentation (1)
- Force Jump (2)
- Enhance Attribute (2)

- Force Sense (1)
- Precognition (2)

- Telekinesis (1)
- Force Push (3)
- Force Choke (2)

- Telepathy (1)
- Mental Shield (1)

- Force Shock (1)
- Force Lightning (3)

- Force Resistance (2)
- Force Barrier (1)

- Battlemind (1)
- Force Kick (1)
- Force Punch (1)
- Force Stun (1)
- Force Blast (2)
 
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Catalyst

The Cunning Linguist
Moderator
Underworld Ruler
Immortalis
Convoluted Combo: Chaos Edition!
IC: Darth Catalyst & Darth Venomis
Mindscape

The hungry gaze of the facsimiled Apollyon continued to draw Catalyst in as she attempted to seduce him. There was an urgency to her words, but not in longing. She wanted him, in the same way a stim addict yearned for the next hit. The comparison brought to mind an old adage from a smuggler he had spent time with a century prior, one that he himself didn't necessarily agree with but today it rang true. The chase is better than the catch.


"But my dear," he withdrew as she leaned forward, beckoning him into a kiss, "I'm so much better at talking. You know this. It's what drew me to you in the first place, if you remember. I can't give up my tongue so easily without a little help." He lackadaisically reached out a hand, calling to it a bottle sitting on the table at the periphery of his vision.

Apollyon pouted, but the expression merely concealed the subtle smile tugging at her lips, as the bottle settled into Catalyst's grasp. It was filled with a dark liquid, as black as caf, but with an odour fouler than firewhiskey.

"Then by all means, take a drink first," she purred. "Need to calm your nerves?"

"Indeed I do," Catalyst returned her pout with a sly smile. He swirled the ichor in its bottle, watching as it clung to the sides like a slime mold climbing its way towards the opening.

"You know what they say about liquid courage though," he grasped the bottle firmly by the neck as he spoke. "It brings out idiocy in the best of us." In a swift motion, he called upon the Force to enhance his strength, however briefly, and swung the bottle at the head of his beloved.

For a half-second, all was silent. And then the harsh sound of shattering glass broke the false tranquility of the candlelit scene, as the bottle collided with Apollyon’s perfect features, and black liquid defiled the air with a shower of foul droplets. The room cracked with it; little shards of stone and bed and table, tumbling away into the spraying darkness, as oil ran down the ruined visage of the great deceiver, and revealed a man who grinned black blood, with white robes sodden with his own filth.

Splinters of memory cascaded into the void.

Now the mind’s eye was clear, and Catalyst was left on an island of sanity, bereft of the comfort of illusion, but joined by an ally true. Beside him, Darth Viscretus stood, as she had stood before; Darth Venomis was waiting, the edge of the island the site of his last stand, the edge between life and death, the edge between a hundred thousand more years of crowing, mocking, hateful victory, and an end to that abysmal titan of rot and rapine who had plagued the galaxy since the stars were yet young and pure. Lightning filled the air, the roaring power of a ravenous deity who desperately sought to claw Viscretus and Catalyst from their perch, and cast them into Chaos in his place.

“Then courageous shall you die,” came the voice of the enemy, Apollyon and Venomis intertwined, the collective scream of a thousand men and a thousand women, the cry of victims innumerable. I shall not be stopped!”

Now, the battle was on.

Catalyst shook himself free of the illusion and blinked away the final inky blackness that had pervaded his mind. Chaos swirled around him again, but the sight of Viscretus next to him once more filled him with confidence. "This is where the fun begins, isn't it?" Catalyst afforded himself a smirk as he blithely made light of their situation. He turned his attention to their true enemy as they faced off. In the midst of the swirling maelstrom, he was committed to seeing Venomis destroyed in spiteful contempt of his machinations.

The Lord of Linguistics raised a hand. Lightning crackled around the stone platform as he stood defiantly before the personification of plague and rot. He opened himself to the Force, calling upon the fullest extent of his defensive powers to absorb as much of the lightning as he could. The blackened eyes of Venomis bored into his being, and Catalyst obstinately glared back, reflecting all the projected hatred and malice back onto the godly being. He would not succumb to the void today, at least not without a fight. This is for you, Kain.

Powers used: Tutaminis

TAG: @Darth Dreadwar @Admiral Volshe @Ānhrā Māhnîu
 

Darth Dreadwar

Active member
Immortalis
GM Update Part I

IC: No one
Nowhere



Chaos is not a place. It is a state of unbeing.

“Dark side hell,” whispered the superstitious Sith Lords of antiquity, grasping at concepts beyond the comprehension of the most learned metaphysicists and erudite philosophers. But no devils haunted the hadean void of oblivion; only nothingness awaited, the gaping maw of an evil older than any myth. Some worshipped it, as if adoring its omnipotent omnivory would save them from ultimate annihilation; a foolish faustian pact with a power that could not be suaded. Some named it, as if labelling the empty, eternal night would bring it into the comforting realm of mortal understanding, yet the unending Dark cared not whether the squamous brood of Lehon gibbered of Darr tah Näkhäsh’tsis or whether the children of Dromund Kaas lifted their quaking voices in prayer to Darth Nemesis.

Some looked into the abyss and saw a monster, with teeth of shattered worlds and tentacles of shadow. Some saw an eye of hellish fire, perceiving that the abyss stared back with primitive malevolent intention. But the abyss knew not the name Typhojem, nor Pomojema. The Immortal God of the Sith was not alive; it was the death of everything.

At the edge of unbeing, a dim mote of awareness drifted like a scintillating speck of dust in the void, whirling towards annihilation as if caught in the accretion disc of a black hole. The flicker of life, however twisted and grotesque, about to be extinguished.

Darth Cruor was spiralling towards non-existence.

This, this was the great fear that a thousand Sith had wasted their lives and debased their dignity to so desperately avoid. This was what had consumed the mind of Plagueis, and inflamed the madness of Palpatine. This was the great enemy of all life, Sith and Jedi alike; the bane of all existence, and the death of the Force, for all life was the Force, even in its darkest shades.

This was the ultimate Destroyer, to which the howling liturgies of Rhand owed their every inspiration. This was the gap beyond Gunninga, the rift beyond Valtaullu, the Anti-Force of Illathurion. This… This was Chaos.

This was Cruor’s master.

Could there be any escape, for one who had pledged seven thousand years of allegiance to destruction, yet now found himself within its cruel grasp? There was barely any capacity for thought, this close to the edge of annihilation; Cruor’s being was as shattered as his mask, scattered remnants of fading consciousness rapidly unspooling into the black.

But there was the faintest tug of memory, here, before the end of everything. The mask had been Cruor’s face, the reflection he had seen in every pane of transparisteel since time immemorial, every mirror of glass and bronze. And that frightful skull was like an anchor in the storm; a strand of connection to the world of the living, thinner than the wisps of a mummy’s shroud, as translucent as shimmersilk.

The mask had been destroyed by the abrupt apocalypse of Kain’s fiery fury. But shards yet survived, concealed on the person of Cruor’s greatest rival, and that aetheric bond between the fallen Gen’Dai’s soul and the last slivers of his fetish, forged by foulest Sith magic in the days of yore, barely remained within his sliding grasp. Would he surrender to the call of Chaos, let himself be devoured by screaming nihility? Or would he reach, with every last splinter of his spirit, for the rope of unnatural life that yet dangled into the seas of black infinity?

Chaos is not a place. It is a state of unbeing. At the edge of unbeing, Darth Cruor was faced with a choice.


TAG: Darth Cruor




IC: Darth Apollyon
The tunnel, beneath the surface of Korriban


Light.

Apollyon gasped, onyx eyes squinting against the unfamiliar effulgence. With a tortured screech intertwined with a low, rumbling groan of metal and stone, the antiquarian blast door began to part, flooding the once-black tunnel of horror and screaming chaos with comforting crimson. Not by Draconis’ wasteful and cruel act of sacrifice did it move, nor by any conjuration of Kaos, but by the raw, untrammeled might of the most powerful telekeinetic of the New Sith Order.

Darth Hesper stood, hands parted, and before the full strength of the High Priestess, summoned in that last moment of desperate exertion, the door retreated, two interlocking slabs of durasteel, each weighing more than a ton, slowly, jarringly receding into the crude, carved circle that comprised the walls of the tunnel, as if bowing aside before hieratic majesty.

The opening of the door revealed some fifty meters of further tunnel, sharp slick edges of stone catching the light streaming from what could only be the end of the passage. Apollyon barely took a second to process the vague outlines of the gargantuan hangar beyond, the rusted dagger-shaped vessels held aloft, the bright, bleeding halogens of brilliant red. She only dimly registered the presence of another door, this one mercifully open with blinking control panel in-tact, separating the tunnel from the mysterious expanse; she was already whirling, scarlet dress flapping in silhouette against the light, to face the survivors behind her.

They were out of time.

Everywhere she looked, death was in pursuit. Grinning sclerotic warriors, teeth gnashing and wicked glaives flashing; scowling thaumaturges of jagged bone and ragged raiment, hurling snarls of lightning and bolts of deadly arcana; howling priests slashing open bleeding emerald gashes in the air and equally terrible wounds in red-soaked flesh with fell maledictions; these were the architects of doom, the chasers in the dark, and before their might, the panicked flock of Sith were as fowl led to slaughter to the wild, demented tune of delighted, benighted laughter.

And behind these whickering hordes, the antiquarian lords of the Shadow Council continued their relentless march, directing every cruel attack of their deathless vassals with horrid, rasping cries of sinister strategy and barks of cold command. Beyond the power of man to slay were these eldritch eidolons; every desperate lightsaber raised against them crashed against invisible shields of raw telekinetic power; every invocation of the Force failed before their ghastly evocations of ancient arcana; even Darth Xxys, hurling writhen tendrils of lethal darkness, could not find purchase in their unliving flesh, for the ancient ones weaved and danced around every curling tentacle of even the most lethal sorceries in effortless mockery.

They could not be stopped.

But they could be delayed.

It was at that moment, when all seemed lost, that Voidwalker, son of Onderon, took his stand. The power of his forefathers ran strong within his blood, yet it was against his ignoble heritage, the line of Dreadwar, that the heir of treachery and treason plied what scarce remained of his siphoned strength. Around him, guided by raised hand and purposeful mind, sand and stone rose as a wall erupting from the ground, twining between the cackling cacodaemons of the true Sith to join the tunnel’s perilously low ceiling.

A barrier formed, telekinetic power shaping it, adding to it, blotting out the tunnel and its screaming malefactors in a rumble of rock and earth.

Not every deathless foe was caught on the other side. A handful of wriggling revenants remained close, locked in combat between the tightly-pressed bodies of the living. But they were few in number, and their efforts to pick off the Order’s weakest were hindered by the Order’s bravest; one was beaten back by Mirtis, a reptillian fist colliding with its skull, while another splintered bone as Thana’s power seized its skeletal form with explosive power. Still another found the demon Zoradon no easy conquest, while another lost its limbs courtesy of Invadator’s ravaging potency.

For a moment, Apollyon glimpsed victory. Not the victory of martial might, of truly defeating an enemy yet insurmountable, but the victory of surviving to fight another day, the victory of threading what little remained of the New Sith Order through the eye of the tempest. She stood aside, hands gesturing in shepherding motion, eyes fierce with determination. “Ahead of me! Through the door, to the end! Younglings, apprentices! Masters behind and in front! Fly! Fly! Stay together!” Where once there had been confusion and disarray, now there was a peculiar sense of orderliness to the flight of the Sith, perhaps spurred by the faintest scent of hope; Hesperian guardsmen and Imperial Knights were clutching the small hands of the Temple’s most vulnerable, plucking from the ground those younglings helpfully if crudely thrown ahead by Invadator, while Talon and Wyyrlok raced to the front, lightsabers extended against any potential challenge those remaining fifty meters of the tunnel might present.

Shielded by Voidwalker’s wall, the Sith moved as one, panic and confusion giving way to urgency and clarity, a dozen footsteps pounding in the dust as the survivors made haste for that light at the end of the tunnel.

For a moment, Apollyon allowed herself the most foolish of fantasies: that the night of horror had neared its end. And then that sickening sound her subconscious had already prepared her to hear scraped her eardrums, the sound of rock rending and earth collapsing, as the wall began to split down the middle. She looked, and beheld the black hand of the enemy outstretched; the tallest and greatest of the three shadows, encased in ebon armour that glinted in the darkness through the widening gap, axe held low in his other hand.

“Go! Go!” Apollyon screamed, and at once sprinted towards the back of the group, past Draconis and Mavros and Noxia, towards the collapsing wall that had so mercifully bought them that merest moment, caramel hands rising to meet the power of the enemy.

The second she pressed her own intent upon the wall, to keep it whole and buy her charges but a few seconds more, the will of the enemy smashed into her mind like the fist of a god. She instantly went to her knees, hands yet raised but twisted in eerie, torturous posture, mouth hanging open limply as her eyes fluttered closed. She felt a strange sound being wrenched from her throat, a wretched sound of impotent effort and sanity-shattering focus, as she desperately plied every scrap of strength against the tidal wave of telekinetic power rolling against the crumbling wall.

It was no use. Stone was being stripped from the barrier faster than she could reassemble barest fragments; the enemy would be upon them in seconds, and then at last would that scant remainder of the New Sith Order be exposed to the full might of Korriban’s first king.

Death was ripping down the wall, and against the gates of hell, Apollyon could not prevail.

“Hesper!” she cried aloud, one last instinct reaching out in recognition that there was another here whose might eclipsed hers, voice shrill with fear and strained in pain. “S-save us!”


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:
Hadzuska rolls a 2 + 15 + 5 + Bonus of 4 against DC 45, and his usage of Convection fails to open the door, merely leaving a blackened scorch.

Xxys’ usage of Dark Side Tendrils completes this round, rolling a 7 + 19 + 10 + Bonus of 4 against DCs 45 and 46, and fails, missing the Shadow Councillors.

Hesper’s usage of Force Rend rolls a 17 + 21 + 10 + Bonus of 4 against DC 45, and succeeds, with an Effect of 19 + 4 + Bonus of 4 + Bonus of 3 resulting in extreme success; the doors part before her telekinetic might. Her usage of Darksight rolls an 18 + 21 + 10 + Bonus of 4 against the same DC, with an Effect of 27 + 4 + Bonus of 10 + Bonus of 4 + Bonus of 3 ensuring Hesper’s will is made manifest with extreme success.

Volacius’ usage of Battle Meditation will buff and/or debuff allies and enemies henceforth so long as concentration is maintained.

Mavros’ usage of Corpse Vision rolls a 5 + 15 + 5 + Bonus of 4 + Bonus of 4 against DCs 45 and 46, and fails; the spirits of the dead are more frightened of their greater kindred than the Shadow Councillors are afraid of such lesser ghasts, and resist Mavros’ call.

Xarxes’ continued usage of Battle Meditation will buff and/or debuff allies and enemies henceforth so long as concentration is maintained.

There is no need to roll for Arach’s usage of Force Rend, as the door is opened by the time she applies her power. Voidwalker’s usage of Alter Environment rolls a 7 + 16 + 5 + Bonus of 4 + Bonus of 4 against DC 20, and succeeds; Effect is 5 + 3 + Bonus of 4 + Bonus of 4, a moderate success that reshapes the stone and soil of the tunnel floor into a barrier that joins the ceiling.

Zoradon’s attack rolls a 12 + 5 + Bonus of 4 + Bonus of 4 against DC 10, and succeeds. Damage is 5 + Bonus of 4 + Bonus of 4, reducing the Undead Massassi Warrior’s HP to 0. It remains animate, and is still capable of attacking.

Draconis’ thematic usage of telekinesis has been pre-approved. Invadator’s usage of Force Rend rolls a 17 + 19 + 10 + Bonus of 4 + Bonus of 4 against DC 10, and succeeds, inflicting 20 + 1 + Bonus of 4 + Bonus of 4 Damage, reducing the Undead Massassi Warrior’s HP to 0. It remains animate, and is still capable of attacking.

Thana’s usage of Flamusfracta rolls a 16 + 15 + 5 + Bonus of 4 + Bonus of 4 against DC 30, and succeeds, inflicting 7 + 1 + Bonus of 3 + Bonus of 4 + Bonus of 4 Damage upon a nearby Undead Kissai Thaumaturge, reducing its HP to 11, and drawing its attention to her. Her limited proficiency in Flamusfracta does not allow for targeting of multiple foes.

Mirtis attacks a nearby Undead Kissai Thaumaturge with a Force Punch enhanced by light side energy, rolling a 19 + 15 + 4 + Bonus of 4 + Bonus of 4 against DC 30, and succeeding. Damage is 11 + Bonus of 4 + Bonus of 4, inflicting 19 Damage and reducing the thaumaturge’s HP to 11.
 
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corinthia

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Immortalis
IC: Imperatrix Hesper
The Underdelve


Hesper's body was quaking with exertion when the gargantuan doors began to part, ancient metal groaning in jarring disharmony with the scream tearing from Hesper's throat. Sweat trickled in thin rivulets down her flushed face, and in the wash of sudden light from within, it became apparent that the dark scar across Hesper's face had split, oozing dark drops of fresh blood. Her golden hair stuck to her skin in clumps, and her eyes widened to behold their salvation, beyond just a bit more rocky tunnel: a hangar?

Immediately, she thrust her preternatural awareness into it, feeling out potential threats. But even if there was an ambush waiting for them in the wings of that great hangar beyond, they were out of options; they needed to move. And still, their chances of survival and victory were far greater if their environment favored better movement. Any terrain was better than this narrow tunnel they were currently bottlenecked into. She would inform them if any threats revealed themselves.

With as much exhaustion as nimbleness, Hesper turned and stepped aside, moving herself out of the way of this new egress. "Go, now!" she cried, pale fingers clinging to the gaping door's frame to steady her tired body. Her knees buckled under her. "My Guardsmen, follow my commands—six will lead, the rest will bring up the rear. Protect the children. Go! And do not delay!" She could see the tall figures of her black-clad Hesperian Guardsmen scooping up stumbling children as they pushed towards the open door.

Then, a barrier of sand and stone erupted from the tunnel, cutting off the brunt of their pursuers. It came from the prodigal hands of the one called Voidwalker, a momentary reprieve from their panicked exodus. Hesper's chest heaved as she continued to fight to catch her breath. She gulped down dusty breaths of stale air, and delved deep into the placid pool of strength that existed fathoms within her mind and soul; that sacred wellspring from which her Force prowess flowed. She could not help herself from dipping her feet into that pool and allowing herself to be washed in her own divine power. Her divinatory power.

In her third eye, that vision which she had seen so many times before seared itself into her mind.

A fleeing of black robes, deep into the temple's underbelly.

Rock, closing in.

The pale promise of light at the end of an arduous tunnel.

The tunnel.

Ebon armor like a black beetle's carapace.

A fight.

Another's dangerous power wrestling with her own.

Save them at the tunnel.

And then—

Nothing.

There was nothing beyond.​

"Hesper!" The voice was Apollyon's. It ripped through Hesper's mind, a burning, searing sound like a blazing arrow shot through the dark. It was raw, excruciating, desperate. HESPER! It echoed through her mind, ricocheting off memories from the Vergence Scatter and snippets of precognition. She almost cried out in pain from it.

"Save us!"

Hesper's eyes met with Apollyon's, across the fray of evacuees. A drop of blood rolled down her forehead and leaked into her pale, blind eye.

Save them at the tunnel.

In a moment, the exhaustion from pulling that ancient door in twain sloughed off her, and her focus crystalized, honing itself into a razor-sharp singularity, a blade with which she would cut through time, space, and destiny, and change the tide of this fraught escape. She drew herself up, fortifying herself with the dark side and squaring her shoulders. Turning to Lord Xarxes, she quickly uttered, "I entrust you; lead the Hesperians. Continue this escape."

Then, she dove through the throngs, pushing against them to the very back. Her hair billowed about her like a shroud of golden light, and the black thorny crown upon her head was like the shadow of a dark cloud obscuring the sun. She was a vision of malevolence, of prophecy humanized. She raised her slender hands, calling upon every source of power availed unto her. Upon her own strength, upon the bonds she forged with her Hesperians, upon Xarxes' cold Battle Meditation, upon her violent hatred for Dreadwar, and upon that inconceivable otherworld of the Vergence Scatter, and all she had witnessed therein.

Immediately she was pushed back by some overwhelming other, the sheer will of their enemy. It buffeted her with a powerful darkness, far stronger and of a blacker hue than anything her allies wielded. She put her power in with Apollyon's lending a surge of telekinetic power to push back the dwindling wall of Voidwalker's creation and hinder the swarms chasing after them before bringing up temporary defenses of her own.

She knew what she had to do. Keeping one hand raised to maintain her Force Barrier, she stretched her other back towards the escaping throngs.

"Apollyon," she said, her voice strained through gritted teeth as her power was pushed to its upper limits. "Go. I'll be right behind you."

And she turned the direction of her Force power upward, releasing her barrier and instead grasping to pull down slabs of rock from the tunnel's ceiling, in an attempt to seal off the tunnel between the spot where she stood and where the frothing mass of pursuers began. Some of those demoniacal figures might even be crushed as she sought to bring down massive shards of rock upon them. And in her mind's eye she thrust her hopes into the cosmic ether, unfurling great figurative sails to guide the fates of those she now considered to be in her charge. She beseeched destiny to change its course, to grant them all a safe escape into that promised hangar beyond, where, luck willing, there would be some method to get off-world.

Then, and only then, would the real war begin.

Hesper dug in, twisting her bare feet into the gritty earth below. She galvanized herself, preparing to throw every ounce of her strength into ensuring they would make it that far.


 

Dark Lady Makaria

Moderator
Moderator
Dark Council
IC: Keres Dymos
The tunnel, beneath the surface of Korriban

Everything was chaos, and fear, and anger. Keres' heart was pounding too loud for her to hear anything else, at least until she heard the great groaning and shrieking of ancient doors being opened, unwilling but unable to stop whoever was doing it. Hope sprung high, and caught in her throat as a wall rose, stone and sand rumbling into study strength.

And just like that, everything seemed to wrap itself up. Apollyon was urging everyone on, but chaos had reformed into harried order. The younglings were being scooped up and herded, carefully protected instead of carelessly driven. With the door broken, the great hurdle seemed overcome, and they streamed through into the tunnel like a river.

If Keres had been wiser, or more experienced, she would have been cautious, or more alert. But she was not. How could she? Her life had been hard, miserable at times even, but not suspicious. She had never been ground down by a life of constant watching, constant wariness. So when this trial seemed completed, she took it as such. Tonight had been harrowing, but light glimmered ahead. The few younglings she shepherded had stopped crying, and were bright-eyed and energized as they went to safety. As safety descended upon them, like a soft blanket.

And then it didn't.

And then the wall the crumbling and all her urgent hope turned to terror. Apollyon rushed past and Keres couldn't bear to look. To see if the one who encroached upon them like a great hand reaching into a writhing pit would rip through her like a paper screen. She couldn't look, could only let the fear rise as she urged the children on, running faster.

Apollyon screamed, or something like a noise that's directly ripped from the chest. A noise that was more of an emotion than a sound. Keres turned then, and caught a flash of her kneeling, a twisted, unwilling supplication. Terror clawed at her ribs at the shadowed menace held off, it seemed, more by his own patience than by any might of Apollyon's.

The scream for Hesper ripped through her, sound or mind or both, and Keres stumbled with the force of it, briefly hitting the ground before scrambling to her feet again. "Go, go!" she shouted at the children who had hesitated at her fall. Were they through? Were they safe? Or had they only stretched their lives out for the time it would take for Apollyon and Hesper to fall? Anticipant terror froze her spine and choked her throat.

TAGS: @Darth Dreadwar, @Drakul_Xarxes, @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, @corinthia, @skira, @Zareel Jhenan´doka, @Volacius, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios
 

Darth Thana

Active member
IC: Darth Thana
The tunnel, Korriban

The Dread Master was getting worried that they would all die trapped in this tunnel waiting for the giant door to open up. Her focus mainly on the rapidly evading Skeletal attacker eyes meeting when the dark side flowed through her just in time to watch it's bones splinter. Her amethyst-colored eyes turned slightly to see Mirtis use his brutish force to smash into his attackers. Her thoughts were that it was a pity when viewing the brutes of the sith when the force was so open to those of Sorcerer students. She almost regret her upbringing in the empire, following the same savage like ways.

Thana's eyes never stayed too long on Mirtis when she noticed she had gathered the attention of the very splintered undead after her. Attempting to keep moving, she commanded her only surviving golem to defend her. She moved behind it allowing her room to attempt to smash it if it rushed for her. The flame golem had the command to save her at all costs. The raven haired Zabrak had a slight view of the zombie like enemy lifting her hand hopefully allowing the Dark side to continue to flow through her in hopes that the skeletal being would fly back with great force into her brutish ally.

Thana's plan would likely blindside the reptilian friend but she knew he could handle it, besides she needed him to make it. She at least would warn him yelling "Mirtis Catch!" Surely he would hear her warning in time to smash this enemy as well as his own. Thana and her fire conjured protector would make their way in haste to the now open door hopefully passing others to stay away from the back. As Thana rushed off as fast as she could after so much running this far, sweat dripping down her fair face. Her arm pain catching up her as she lifted it up to her face to wipe it as institutional as it came when she remembered why it pained her. She attempted to keep her breathing even to not gas herself out in the wrong time. Her golem would bend down and move slightly slower then herself as not to burn her or hit the ceiling above them. It would stop at the mouth of the door after Thana passed inside allowing only the living to pass through after she spoke such command out loud.

Powers:
Telekinesis -3

TAGS: @Darth Dreadwar @Drakul_Xarxes @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
@skira @Zareel Jhenan´doka @Volacius @Sith_Imperios @Keres Dymos
 

Xarxes

Sith Imperator
Sith Emperor
Moderator
Final Triumvirate
Dark Council
Immortalis
IC: Darth Drakul Xarxes
Entrance to the Hidden Hangar

Theme:


The world around him remained largely dull, affected only by the surge of the Force in all directions as decaying hordes lunged forth from the rocky earth, met by the powers of the New Sith Order. It was torturous, feeling in every fiber of his being the sufferings of his ilk whilst his opponents, though cut down, continued to pursue. His will remained staunch and stoic, until a sliver of crimson light beat upon the back of his armor.

His mind’s eye turned towards it, sensing the now-opened door and the possible salvation that lay ahead. Already he had begun sensing the tunnel and expanse of cave beyond—a hangar, most likely—when the words of the Imperatrix fell muffled upon his ears.

The observation continued, carefully but with great expediency, before he lowered both his powers of influence and sight in order to focus on the boon asked of him. Holding his sword at the ready, he turned, gaze passing upon the prophetess in Hesperian green garb, a figure of immense power, might, and beauty, raising her own lofty ability to match that of her foes. His eyes then fell upon the encroaching Kissai, being beaten down by his fellow. His mqaaq’it picked out their movements, of the ones attacking the demonlike creature, Darths Thana and Mirtis, and his own former Master. Carefully discerning their placement, a task only the supercomputer genius of one bearing Arkanian blood could, he used his biot to target the zombies, more specifically the most prominent and most grotesque features they bore: their heads. In four brilliant bursts, one at each of the undead, and without his gaze falling upon any others as his closed eyes calculated the trajectory and angle of each blast, his Deadly Sight fell upon their craniums with the precision of a blaster bolt fired by Lord Xxys. At least that was his intention.

With the hope his task had been accomplished, and not looking to see the results, he turned and leveled his sword towards the gaping maw of the crimson tunnel, unblocked by Hesper’s fantastic power. “Now, all ye who hear me,” he bellowed, “ forward to salvation!

Without further prodding, the Nightfather, flanked by Hesperian Guardsmen and his lowly apprentice, began their retreat into the hangar.


Powers used:
-Mqaaq’it, to scan for traps, then to target the four Undead Kissai who made it past the wall
-Deadly Sight (3) In four bursts
-Battle Meditation (4) To scan for traps ahead, then dropped

TAGS: @Darth Dreadwar, @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, @corinthia, @skira, @Zareel Jhenan´doka, @Volacius, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @Keres Dymos
 
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Darth Cold

Well-known member
Moderator
Dark Council
“There is Passion, but there is also Peace
Through Passion we gain the Strength to protect
Through Strength we gain the Power to provide safety
Through Power I gain Victory for those less fortunate
Through Victory my chains are melted
The Force shall free us all”
~Samael’s Personal Code

IC: Samael
Location: The tunnel, beneath the surface of Korriban


With the tears of rage in his eyes, Samael’s vision was blurry, stopping him from noticing what really happened thanks to the powerful telekinetic that was Darth Hesper. Not that he really knew who they were anyways. No. What he focused on in his infinite wisdom, as the door finally opened, was the scorch mark he had left on the door. He was giddy, all the door needed was to meet his oldest, truest, and most beautiful friend. Of course she could convince it to open. He smiled, at least even in the face of danger, there was at least one thing he could count on. The loving embrace of his fiery friend that was always there for him in his time of need.

She never really talked to him, at least in a language that he fully understood, but somehow he always seemed to know what she needed his help with to get to their goal. When they were finally safe, he fully intended to research more. Maybe he could deepen his connection with her, and finally understand her fully. Who knows, maybe there is someone out there that could teach him this knowledge that he seeks, or maybe he might be the first to learn it.

All of this went excitedly through his mind within a second. But for now he had to put that goal aside until they were safe. He needed to move on. Looking beyond he saw a light within the darkness. It must be a sign from her. Whether it was safe or not, he rushed forward, flames still licking at his charred robes as his excitement got the better of him, still leaving his body untouched. He was a living torch to guide and shepherd others on unknowingly. All he could think of was when he next saw her in all her glory, he would thank her, not realizing it was his friend that surrounded him even now.

[Powers Used: Convection - 1 (Passive)]

TAG: @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, @Keres Dymos, @skira, @Zareel Jhenan´doka, @Volacius, @Drakul_Xarxes, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @Darth Dreadwar
 
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Darth Xxys

Active member
Moderator
Dark Council
Immortalis
(IC Xxys Underdelve)

The Force shrieked as it was ripped and stretched.

Evil besetting evil.

Xxys could see his best efforts come to naught. The image in his minds eye showed him the Shadow
Council had slipped past his attack with nearly childlike ease. The tendrils he had dispatched seemed to move as if through some miasma, thick and restrictive, while their progress was unimpeded. The lead specter ripped away the last of the blockages and swarmed forward, trailed closely by the other two.

Doom had finally caught him…

or had it?

As Xxys came set and readied to engage his death the floor a few meters ahead shifted, then lifted from it’s base, slamming into the ceiling above.

Xxys staggered back as a plume of dust rushed past him. He half turned to see Voidwalker had taken his stand just a half pace behind and had used his considerable power of telekinesis to interpose several meters of rock and sand, effectively blocking the passage once again, for now.

Apollyon had likewise advanced to within a few meters and began to include her own powers to supporting the earthworks. Just as she came to a stop she fell to her knees and screamed as a blacked hand jutted from the stone and sand wall.

The Force screamed.
Twisting until it seemed the very fabric of reality must give way, and shatter.

“HESPER! S-SAVE US!”

Apollyon turned her head to look past Xxys who had not wasted any time thinking about his fortune but had quickly moved further down the hall without turning his back, sabers held at the ready.

Her voice shook with the effort, and Xxys could see the sweat break on her brow with the strain of pushing against those fel creatures just a few meters away.

Hesper meanwhile had dislodged the blast doors unsealing the tunnel, and those at its egress had also wasted no time in making their escape. Xxys stood to the side as the aforementioned Lady Hesper came rushing down the passage imploring all she passed to make good their escape then she too plied her considerable power to the fight. Setting her naked feet in the shifting sand the tiny woman exuded overwhelming power and Xxys could feel the Force gathering to her call.

All this transpired within a few seconds, though it felt as if months had passed.

Xxys heeded the advice given quickly backing down the now clearing passage. The Empress was his only true concern, but any bulwark set in the path to safeguard her escape was welcomed, as well as the preservation of his own life.

He shouted to be heard over the tumult.

“HESPER! WE NEED YOU ALIVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!”

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
 

Arach

Active member
IC - Voidwalker & Arach
Korriban Tunnels


Ragged deep breaths and exhaustion were the trade off bestowed upon Voidwalker, the cost of the barrier his will erected from the sand and stone of the tunnel ground.

The cold sweat that covered his body under his clothing and armor, was little more than a physical representation of his exhaustion, and the heat within the tunnel. Even over the clustered clamor, the sound of screeching metal rang out as if a symphony of war drums gave way to the celebration of victory.

Arach had just barely got a mental hold on the door when it suddenly opened. Surprise and relief flooded through her. She knew who had been the one who actually got it open. The assassin barely had time to mutter a "Nice going" before Apollyon was giving out orders.

“Ahead of me! Through the door, to the end! Younglings, apprentices! Masters behind and in front! Fly! Fly! Stay together!” Quickly the remaining members of the New Sith Order started making their way through the newly opened path to them. For a brief moment they had a glimmer of hope just beyond the doors.

Then it came.

The bellowing boom of impact. A muffled boom struck once, then twice, then came the sound of falling rock and stone. Followed by the disheartening sight of the barrier starting to crack. The reality of the attackers onslaught had become a living nightmare.

“Go! Go!” Apollyon screamed before she began rushing to Voidwalker's impressive barrier. The same barrier that was being dismantled.

Shock and a feeling that Voidwalker hadn't felt in years suddenly overcame him as he stood before the cracking barrier. Fear. Fear was what now overtook him. He managed to take a straining step back from the wall he had created, yet it felt as if his legs were made of durasteel. He couldn't move another inch, even straining and willing his body to react, there was nothing. His fear had paralyzed him, and his widened eyes were fixated on the growing crack in the barrier. How? How was this possible? We didn't have even a minute. What sort of dark power is this?

“Hesper! S-save us!”

Apollyon's voice cried out, her desperate plea for a savior ringing out like a siren's song, an alluring and seductive tone to reel in their unsuspected prey was now a shriek of terror and doom. It had been enough to rocket through Voidwalker's eardrums faster than a ship hitting light speed.

When did Apollyon get here? Last I knew she was upfront with the others. But she's here trying to hold the barrier, and I was helpless to do anything. Damnit! No. I refuse to be enslaved by anyone or anything! My chains are broken!

At the sound of Apollyon's cries, Hesper was then on the move, giving her own orders and rushing back to Apollyon's aid. Arach quickly followed, raising her own mental shield as Apollyon had fallen to one knee. When the assassin came to a stop, she raised her hands in an attempt to reinforce the barrier, as Hesper attempted to bring the ceiling down.

She snuck a glance in Voidwalker’s direction. “I had a feeling you wanted all the fun to yourself.” The smile Arach gave him, though thin- lipped, was teasing. She returned her golden gaze back to her task. “I love the barrier, though.”

Arach's words and smile were somehow comforting to Voidwalker even in the midst of the impending chaos that was breaking through his barrier. "You know what they say, if you love something, let it go. That's what we have to do, you have to drop your hold on the barrier and we have to go."

Arach’s golden gaze flashed to Voidwalker. Her brow furrowed slightly. “What about Apollyon and Hesper? We can’t leave them defenseless.”

She wasn't wrong to remain loyal to the living legend that was Hesper, she obviously had earned this loyalty from Arach. For Voidwalker, loyalty had been a rocky subject, but even he could see the benefit in powerful friends. Still though Arach had shown loyalty to himself many times over in recent events. She was right that they couldn't abandon them, but they both made a promise to keep each other alive, and that's what they were going to do.

"You heard what she said, she'll be right behind us. The butcher will be fine. If Lady Apollyon trusts her to save us, then that's good enough for me. But if she falls, we have to be ready with the next line of defense to buy everyone more time to escape." Voidwalker retorted to the admirably loyal response of Arach.

Arach bit her lower lip and considered. It felt wrong to run while her leader stood alone with a fierce rival on her side and a purer form of evil on the other side of a crumbling wall. On the other hand, Voidwalker did have a fair point. They would be among the first to know if everything goes wrong.

“Okay,” she said, turning to face her companion fully with a teasing smile. “Just don’t pick me up this time. I can run on my own.”

The sound of her sarcastic remark came as a welcomed pleasure to Voidwalker, a smile quickly dancing across his face. "Just make sure you can keep up this time." He shot back at the golden eyed assassin. His brief smile faded back to a more serious and stoic expression, a facade to mask the uncertainty that he felt. There was no time for that, now was the time to fall back and prepare for the next move. "Are you ready to make our way through the doorway?"

Arach’s smile had softened in response to Voidwalker’s. “Perhaps it is you who needs to keep up.” Her smile also faded and she nodded. Hesitantly, she lowered her hand. “Let’s go."

With that, Arach turned and made her way back to the door, ignoring her own nerves twisting her stomach.

Voidwalker followed his companion's lead, turning on his heel and making his way towards the doorway. The doorway that was now their only hope of salvation. He ran as quickly as his legs would carry him, muscles burning and throbbing with each passing exchange. Just as the two made it to the entryway, Voidwalker stopped at the sight of the pyro manifested Golem that had been summoned by Thana. "You, listen to me closely." He instructed the golem. "I assume your creator gave you enough intelligence to understand basic, you infernal cadaverous abomination. Once Hesper passes through, kill all that attempts to follow."

With his orders given, Voidwalker continued on his way into the doorway. He had no time to wait and see if the golem had understood the command that had been given to it, or if it would even follow his orders. He just needed to be ready for anything that came next. Making his way further into the passageway, he stopped only a few feet ahead of where everyone passed through. He was back enough to be able to set another line of defense or to continue on to regroup with the others, but he was close enough that he could still see Hesper.

If the Butcher of Coruscant fell in battle here, he would be the first to witness her fall. The scales of fate all weighed on Hesper now. She would either save them in the tunnel, or she would be the signal of their doom.

Arach had stayed hard on Voidwalker’s heels, then pulled up to a stop when he did. She silently listened to the commands he issued to the golem, then followed him to the door. The assassin’s golden gaze flickered down to Hesper not bothering to hide her worry. She shifted a little closer to Voidwalker to allow more room for stragglers to pass. “I don’t like this,” she said, softly. Her gaze flickered to the sorcerer briefly. “Do you have any more plans to slow them down, if Hesper fails?”

"If she falls, we follow her lead and we bring down the entire tunnel. We'll bring it down in sections and retreat. We'll alternate to save our strength. If she goes down then we both immediately pull down the tunnel from here to the entrance then we fall back, you collapse a section, then I'll do the next. But we have to make it back to the others."

Voidwalker reached his hand out and took Arach's hand in his own, giving her a reassuring nod. "We have to believe that Hesper will succeed. Hope is dead, all we have now are beliefs. Regardless of what happens next, we have to be ready to move."

Voidwalker kept his sight on the Legendary Butcher, sweat running down his dirt covered face. Whether for his own reassurance or for Arach's, he squeezed her hand slightly tighter. His voice low, his thoughts quickly forming to words and escaping his lips. "Korriban is a graveyard, and this tunnel will not be our mausoleum. I refuse to be trapped for eternity in this crypt by our would-be cryptkeeper attackers."

Arach lowered her head a little to conceal the small smile spreading across her lips. She returned Voidwalker’s squeeze with her own, feeling a little lighter than before. She was surprised at the level of comfort his touch and the sound of his voice gave her and she furrowed her brows.

She gave herself a mental shake before nodding in agreement. “Agreed. Corpse dancing doesn’t sound very fun to begin with. Less so when we know they are the ones who will be pulling the strings.” The assassin shuddered in disgust at the mental image. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”

Tags: @Darth Dreadwar,@corinthia, @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, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Keres Dymos, @skira, @Zareel Jhenan´doka, @Volacius, @Drakul_Xarxes, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios
 
Last edited:

Darth Nathemus

King of Firefist
Staff member
Administrator
Jedi King
Dark Council
Jedi Council
Immortalis
IC: The Sedriss
Location: The now-open Hangar gate, Underdelve, Sith Temple, Korriban

The wall had been broken down, but surely not by the Shadow Hand's own might. No, it barely budged when he tried to crush it. It could only be the Butcher. Before her disappearance, she was regarded as one of the foremost, if not the greatest, telekinetic of the entire New Sith Order. If anyone could bust down an ancient door, it was her.

She'd given his compatriot, the Nightfather Lord Xarxes, orders to lead their group of Sith in her stead. These orders, even under the most extreme circumstances, still gave Nathemus a strong sense of pride in his close friend. Xarxes' rise had been meteoric over the past few years and he was well deserving of leadership.

The hulking lich began to survey the crowd. He was ready to pass through the door, but he could not do so without his Apprentice, Nacros Telcontare, or his siblings. He had still not seen his father or the Divine Mother since she collapsed further away from the door, and his only hope for them was in their combined strength as Empress and Emperor of the Sith.

Fear could not take him. With his father indisposed with the Empress, and Kain now gone, the burden of protection for their family now fell squarely on the shoulders of Nathemus. From the very first day that Nihl lifted him up on his shoulders, to their first rounds of training, to being placed as Dreadwar's Shadow Hand, every aspect of his life led the Sedriss to his moment. He'd either save his family, and the rest of the Sith Force willing, from their besiegers, or die trying. And the Lord of Pain wasn't one so easily killed.

Thankfully, upon looking around the group, he did find his siblings. Lady Kaos was nearby and the "twins" were with the shepherding Imperial Knights. Voidwalker was drawing nearer to the door as well, but not alone. It seemed he was still tagging along with their new ally from above the stairs, Lady Arach. She had been invaluable to Nathemus, Voidwalker, Feros, and herself escaping with their lives.

//Cordé, Deianara, Primordius, come with me. We must stick together. For mom and dad, and for all our family.//

He quickly also sent a message to Voidwalker, hoping the strength of their Bond as old as time would bolster it. //Voidwalker, hurry. This is our salvation. We have no time to lose! Cordé and the children will already be with me, meet us at the door and we will escape these interlopers.//

This was their desperate hour. If Hesper could not stand against the three, or if any more prominent Sith died this day, everything would be for naught. All he could do was hope. For rebellions are built on hope. As much as it was strange to say, that is exactly what the New Sith Order now is.

Powers used: Telepathy (5), Force Bond (4)​

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

Cardun Vrek

Legendary Member
Moderator
Jedi Council
IC: Darth Mavros

The Tunnels, Korriban


Bloody cowards…though I don’t blame them, in all honesty.

His attempt to call upon the spirits of Korriban to assault the enemy once more had failed. It seemed that the spirits had heard his call, but were too afraid to act on his behalf. If something could terrify even the dead, what hope did he have?

At least that kriffing door is open. Maybe Hesper isn’t trying to kill us all after all. Either that, or she’s leading us into something even more horrific than this. Maybe Dreadwar has a pit of adolescent Bull Rancors that-no…I’m not finishing that thought.

Apollyon was urging them forward now as she ran past him. The chaos that had so utterly dominated the proceedings finally gave way to some sort of order. Mavros did not need telling twice. Voidwalker and the other glory-hunters could stay at the rear and buy them time.

Let them fall valiantly one by one, to be remembered in stories and songs for all time for their brave sacrifices. If anyone escaped to write said stories and songs, that was.

Mavros, meanwhile, was getting the hell off of this accursed planet. He glanced back at the unconscious form of Lord Catalyst that Apollyon had entrusted to him when he had fixed up the speeder.

Sorry My Lord, but my life matters more to me than yours does. And you’ll just slow me down. No hard feelings.

If Apollyon asked, Mavros would simply explain that, in the chaos, he tried valiantly to get back to Calayst to carry him to safety but was swept up by the crowd and could do nothing to save him.

Yes, that would probably work.

If not…well, Apollyon would probably be too busy to waste time killing him. Or, she might die in the escape. That would also work.

He sprinted off down towards the hanger bay ahead, brushing his way past many others.

“Make way! I’m escorting those younglings! The Empress stated they were the priority. Take it up with her. Move!”

If she ever wakes up, that is…honestly, kriff this day.


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

skira

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

The smoke demon released the undead creature, only to realize his attempt to kill it had, at least on the surface, done nothing. Anger, or the closest thing he could feel to it, boiled in his chest. His time trapped in Sol’s head had left him in a strange state, his mind being half of his former self, and half… human. It was a disgusting thought, but it left him with the ability to feel more emotions. To be more than a mindless conjuring of the force. And that was something for him to be grateful for.

I’ve had enough of the dead today, my friend,” He whispered to the mindless zombie, before sending his fist hurling towards the dead’s face, hoping it would be enough to knock it off so he could get away. Turning his back on the creature with weapons would not be a wise idea.

B6190411-BD38-421D-8D37-CBBD24124902.jpg

Her lungs burned. The running she had endured for what felt like hours. The dust circulating in them. She felt as if her chest was lit aflame, with no way of remedying it. She coughed, but it gave her no relief. Sol moved with the others, where hope seemed to float in the air. But for a moment, she allowed her mind to linger on the thought of stopping. Of simply giving up. Her death would be quick, and welcomed. God, she was exhausted.

And that short, brief moment of doubt welcomed the voices that haunted her mind. They sensed her fear, and manifested louder then she had ever remembered them being.

“Go back.”
“Safety does not lie ahead, little girl.”
“Go back.”
“You will be safe behind.”
“Stay in the temple with us.

“Go back, little girl.”

She felt her steps falter for a moment as she lost control of her own mind, the doubt that safety truly did lie ahead lingering in. Perhaps they were right.

SIX_275C09D3-2CD6-4BE8-90BB-47F4F86FE383.JPG

Sol’s head began to turn, but something ceased it. Not something physical, no. But a voice rang through her mind. It was loud enough to silence the voices, at least temporarily, and keep her moving forward towards what could be... What they all seemed to hope to be their salvation.

Stay with me, my child. Do not let them make you stop,” Zoradon’s strange voice whispered to her telepathically. He knew, without her telling him, that the voices he had cursed her with had, indeed, returned in his absence. Her despair was so strong he could taste it, even from many meters away. But there was nothing he could do about it, not now.

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

Volacius

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

The doors had opened.

Marked by terrible screeching and moaning like that of a dying creature’s final breaths, the infernal doorway that had resisted both Nathemus’ fist and Volacius’ own Lightsabers gave way to the combined telekinetic might of Hesper and Apollyon, casting crimson rays of light against the Mirialan’s golden flesh.

The way was clear.

The quite-literal light at what Volacius hoped was the end of the tunnel offered hope; the possibility of escape, the ability to retreat and fight another day. As Apollyon bellowed her instructions, Volacius did not hesitate. If the Regent wanted masters in front, that was exactly what Volacius would provide.

Their time was almost at hand.

Invigorated by their renewed chances of survival, Volacius dashed forward through the breach as fast as his legs would carry him, careful to hold as much concentration as he was able on his continued Battle Meditation as he ran. He could still feel the frigid, fearful presence of their pursuers creeping ever-closer behind him, but he could also sense that there were yet those among the Sith Order that were dedicating these next few moments to their defense. Hesper, Xxys, Voidwalker, and others; some of their own ranks were choosing to stay behind and buy whatever time they could, and while Volacius wouldn’t be caught dead among them, he intended to bolster their efforts for as long as he could. Volacius’ arcane sword flew into his waiting hand as he rushed past the forced-open doorway, its runes flashing violently with pulses of orange and indigo. He didn’t know if what lay beyond the ancient doors would help their escape, or hinder it, but whatever awaited them had to be better than the awful, unnatural spectres of doom that awaited behind them. Even so, if there were any threats to the remnants of the Sith ahead, Volacius would be ready to eviscerate them and clear the path.

POWERS USED:
Battle Meditation — 4 (continued)

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

Zareel Jhenan´doka

Well-known member
"This isn't life in the fast lane, it's life in the oncoming traffic.“
Terry Pratchett
IC: Zareel Jhenan'doka
Location: Underdelve, Korriban


Unknowingly and despite trying to keep her mind clear, her brain seemed to have simply disconnected from everything. All sounds were muffled, voices giving orders, cursing, shouts of those who were fighting; it felt as if she was just a spectator in that immensity of chaos and despair. As if she was only a spectator in that immensity of chaos and despair. At what point had she become paralyzed?

She had laid down the child she was carrying, hoping that the door could be opened; yes... the door, someone had mentioned the door again in the distance.

Her limbs felt heavy even when she tried to move, what had happened? '... the door' she heard again in the distance. The door was open, the shouts were orders. Oh... they were being instructed to move, Lady Apollyon was running to the rear, the door had given way, but the dark Lady had returned to stop something else coming. There was always something else; they kept chasing them. Were they running out of air? Was it happening to all of them or was it just her? Why was she struggling so much to breathe? Why couldn't she move?

'You're having a panic attack, breathe or I'll have to slap you and that usually comes at an extra cost, honey.' Her head stopped spinning as quickly as it had started at the memory of how hard had been the punch that had accompanied that comment in the past.

It had felt like an eternity, but as she recovered, Zareel noticed how little time had actually passed.

A sudden bitter taste flooded her mouth, the balosar swallowed the bile pulling herself back to what was happening. "Okay, let's get moving." She said as much to herself as to the little one she had been carrying earlier, urging him to run with the rest moving forward towards the door.

Once running, she decided not to look back, they would be fine; it didn't matter what was in there, whatever they were trying to stop she didn't want to know; the point was to get away and get out as fast as possible.

She could hear how several had gone ahead, they were following orders to move forward no matter what. Still, she hadn't run too far in the direction of the door when... Why was her master laying on the floor? "Not the best time for a karking nap, master." Fidgeting on her feet, she looked in all directions, trying any way to avoid paying too much attention to what was going on at the back. "I could just leave you here, you know? Surely someone else would pick you up, but at the same time I can't just leave you here." With her remaining strength, she pulled on one of his arms trying to lift him, or at least hoping to be able to drag him up. Scratches from the rough ground were the least of her worries.

"Please, don’t make me regret this."


Tags: @Darth Dreadwar, @corinthia, @DarthNoxia, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @DarthFeros, @Nacros_Telcontare, @Kielor, @Jihadi Quartz, @Arach, @Helkosh, @Darth Solus, @Darth Nathemus , @Darth Xxys, @Reatith Blodraald, @Undying Master Xiannarr, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Keres Dymos, @skira , @Volacius, @Drakul_Xarxes, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @Cardun Vrek
 
IC: Darth Mirtis
The Tunnel, Korriban



The force heeded his will and Darth Mirtis struck his opponent. With a successful hit on his undead foe, the adrenaline urged the red scaled sith to follow up with another attack but was cut off but the familiar shout that belonged to a Darth Thana.

"Mirtis catch!" Her voice rang out, his eyes flickered toward her position. Being told to catch something was never good in the middle of combat, knowing her the object was her opponent. He grinned as he pushed off the ground with foot to get him moving toward her direction; he attempted to raise a defense using the force in case the method of her throw ensnared him as well, if he could avoid that it would be a favorable outcome. But he also did not plan to head first straight at the undead Thana was fighting, instead he opted to roll out of the way and continue his way toward the door just like the others; catch was not a game he wanted to play on this deadly playground. He also made sure to look back to ensure the enemies were not as his heels.

"Now, all ye who hear me, forward to salvation!" A bellowing call was made by the Nightfather, Darth Drakul Xarxes. His call could only mean it was time to leave this place. As he went toward the exit, he also tried looking for the one he was connected to so that he could be reassured they wont be flung far from each other ending in his death. The warning to heed distance with Darth Noxia flashed in his mind, something he easily forgets about during battle. This event gave him a lot to think about but more, gave him valuable experience for what may still has yet to come. If he survived to see it that is.

Powers used:
Force Resistance-4


TAGS: @Darth Dreadwar @Drakul_Xarxes @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 @skira @Zareel Jhenan´doka @Volacius @Darth Thana @Keres Dymos
 

Darth Traya

Lady of the Sith, the Saarai-Kaar, the Dark Sun
IC: Darth Traya
Entering throne room, Fountain Palace, Hapes



Traya giggled manically as the life of the Twi'lek assassin flowed from the victim and into the corrupted Miraluka’s hand. She could feel a surge in her own vitality, yet she could not tell whether that served to bolster her own health or was merely a placebo effect of merely satiating her hunger.

The obedience of her mind controlled puppets decimated the second Twi-Lek assassin.

Three deaths in only the span of a few minutes; not exactly unusual for a day within the Hapan royal court. The fresh infusion of Force energy stolen from the life of the first sister awakened a hatred within her breast. A hatred for her own clan sisters that lay decaying on Dathomir, denied proper burial customs. And a hatred for Hapes, this gleaming jewel of a system that sliced open flesh when you tried to polish its uneven edges. That was the misery of Hapes, it was apathy gilded in gold and framed with fountains. She’d murder her clan sisters again and again for the chance to break Hapes upon the crucible of betrayal.

The more she dwelled upon her unbreakable vow to Lord Dreadwar, the more it felt merely like an extension of her true will. She did not harbor ill will at the wraith's trickery; she was certain one way or another Hapes would be forever changed by the time the rainbow crown was wrested from her skeletal hands.

The only regret she harbored was the child stirring in her womb. That had been a surprise, but a welcome one for sure. At the very least, her little Gwyendolin gave her the spark to keep striving for victory, even if she didn’t understand the magnitude of what she faced.

Solaar’s slimey voice pulled her from her burning thoughts. “I suggest we tarry not overly long in figuring out the details of this attempt on your life, Your Majesty. Dromund Kaas awaits, and I suggest we make haste to the control throne at once, and prepare for flight configuration.”

She concentrated on the mental reigns of her puppets, flexing her mental hold to manipulate them to place blasters and pistols to their temples. “Kill yourselves.” She commanded those under her spell, mimicking the way the women so often executed the men.

She proceeded with haste to the vast doors. If any of the discarded guard remained alive after ending her spell she would need to trust that Dhe would dispose of them.

Without further delay she sat in the White Throne; a seemingly nondescript piece of furniture that inspired murder after murder. While it wasn’t exactly the most comforting chair in the galaxy, it held its secrets. Secrets which she wasn’t shocked to hear that Solaar knew, given his connections to Dreadwar. Still…the power remained hers alone. Her actions now would set a ripple throughout the galaxy, and one way or the other, she knew that when that ripple was sensed she would be deemed a traitor.

Little wonder her Darth name came naturally. She held the knowledge of betrayal in her heart and would betray in turn.

She traced her fingers across the armrest of the throne, feeling a secret panel reveal itself. Naturally she could not physically see the specific buttons, but she could feel them and heard their unique signature within the Force. Following those vibrations, she pressed the button meant to prime the Fountain Palace for its true purpose, as a vessel meant for the stars.

Powers Used:

Qazoi Kyantuska: 4 (sustained then released after final command.)

Tag @Darth Dreadwar
 

...

Well-known member
Immortalis
Dreams of a Dead God

Blinding light as hot as the sun was extinguished suddenly by a suffocating darkness which stretched outward in all directions, the accompanying cold and silence were as absolute as the dark. It was as if all that had existed suddenly didn’t. Everything. Thought. Distance. Sensation. Creation. Destruction. Time. This was the eternal peace that Typhojem promised, no unification with the Force as taught by the Jedi, or the secrets of eternal undeath cherished by Sith, this was The Void and in it NOTHING existed but Him.

None experienced Him the same. Some clung to the vision of a monstrous winged being with great talons and horrific tentacles, others saw a radiant image of a mighty one handed god, most saw nothing at all and only sensed Him as an unchecked flood of pure and all consuming emotion. Thousands of religions across the galaxy teach of a great destroyer, the void, or of dark ways, all prophesying His ultimate victory over existence itself.

Yet here, before Him, a shattered sentience hung in the darkness. So small, so weak, so tired. As the enormous maw of its Master gaped hungrily entire planets rushed to their doom, billions of souls disappeared into the eternal blackness of oblivion, nothing escaped His gluttony save the sentience before Him. It had been here before, long ago, when it was very young. The darkness brought with it a million paralyzing horrors, left behind only sadness and despair, and cursed the sentience with an eternal and unchecked rage.


How long had it served Him? How many damning acts of terror had it committed in His name? How many lives had it destroyed, tortured, and ended to further His goals? Each one warping it further, poisoning its mind, committing its very existence to the thing it hated the most.

Him.

1672431157536.jpeg

The hatred for his Master burned hotter than the fiery core of volcanic Mustafar, it alone might save him now. The sentience had used that hate to forge an anchor to the mortal realm, tearing his soul apart he was now bound to both a mortal body and nigh indestructible mask, a tether that he intended to survive death itself. Tested many times but none so completely as when the Beloved Prince of Stars unleashed a deluge of flame that wiped away the shambling army of death led by a legendary pantheon of generals, but even the body of a Gen’Dai could not survive such an attack.

Could this tether save him now? Did he even care if he lived? Or died? If he felt nothing, ever again? An eternal, dreamless, sleep. It was the kind of peace he had desired for a long, long, time. Healing hibernations offered a restless slumber filled with haunting images, and sleep was no longer something his body allowed, there was only one person who could guarantee he could feel nothing ever again.

Here, on the event horizon of oblivion, he faced a final choice. Live? Or die? Death was calling, eager to consume him like so many others, even a servant of seven millennia was nothing to the great evil that threatened all. Did he desire peace?

“Peace is a lie!” The voices of millions of Jidai screamed.

Peace is the fantasy we tell ourselves is possible, it is the carrot we dangle before ourselves to keep us moving forward, it is the false promise of every saint and prophet to ever whisper a holy word. In life there is no peace. To live is to struggle, all who live will know pain and loss. Peace can only be found in the absence of life, in the absence of passion. In life he knew passion! Day and night it tormented him, dared him to dream of vengeance, pushed him to agonizing depths of despair. That passion persisted! His hatred was a demon that would not be banished, and it raged against the chains that had bound him into servitude, could it free him now?


Tag: @Darth Dreadwar
 

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