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

[Darth Kain]

IC: Darth Kain, the Beloved Prince of the Stars
The Execution Grounds, Korriban

In the midst of chaos, a single sound had found its way to him. The roar of engines, distant, high in the clouds. The whine of a boarding ramp descending, a door opening. His eyes were one of the first to see the dark, small object dropping from the heavens. It landed, blood-red energy and sand rushing away like the aftershock of an explosion. It-- no, she stood.

He had only seen her in holovids, infamous ones in this day and age. A feed of a woman, small, furious, armed with nothing but a lightsaber as she slaughtered a swathe of beings once thought untouchable. Kain had experience in killing members of the Federation’s senate, but none would have a comparable kill count to her.

​

Darth Hesper, the Butcher of Coruscant. She was here, not dead as he believed.

Strange, thought Kain. That scar must have been earned after the butchering was recorded.

She was a figure equally mysterious as she was famous among the Sith. Kain wished he had not been… occupied… while she was active within the galaxy. It would have been a hell of a time if he’d been given the opportunity to burn the Senate to embers alongside her.

But then she spoke, her first word already souring his look upon her. “Deceivers.” Kain’s jaw shifted, his fiery gaze turning toward her. The only deceivers here were the pretenders to the throne, and all who denied the rule of the Beloved Queen of the Stars were said pretenders. Did Hesper dare come back to the known galaxy just to challenge their claim? That would be most unwise; after all, what a tragic story that would make! The Butcher of Coruscant, returned from obscurity, only to be turned to ash the moment she stepped foot on Korriban.

But then she began to speak more reasonably, citing a threat coming for all the Sith, and that fighting for the throne would get them nowhere. Kain’s fury subsided, for he agreed. All the Sith in attendance had no need to fight for the throne, not when their true Empress already stood before them.

Volshe was quick to speak to the Butcher, offering her and Lady Apollyon an opportunity to accompany her, along with the prisoners, to the throne room. Kain was worried, however. The rabble out here, left to their own devices… he could not help but sense a plot from the false contenders in the works. Some of the Sith in attendance were wise enough to dismiss them, but not all. If a fight broke out here while the major players were inside talking, it could end in chaos.

No matter, he decided. The weak would die regardless of when a blade found their heart, and regardless of whose blade it would be. If the pretenders were victorious in a scrap here, it would only make it easier to burn them all alive. No need to worry about harming an ally, then.

Kain’s thoughts were thrown off when the Empress spoke to him, offering him an invitation to this meeting as well. “I will,” he answered, allowing the flames in his eyes and his hands to dissolve to nothing. Perhaps it was time to settle this conflict with words rather than fireballs; a peculiar change of pace.

TAGS: @Admiral Volshe @Darth Kain @Hadzuska_The Jester @Darth Nathemus @Darth Xirr @Darth Solus @DarthNoxia @Drakul_Xarxes @Jihadi Quartz @Voidwalker @Ānhrā Māhnîu @Helkosh @G.Kn @Reatith Blodraald @Darth Thana @Sith_Imperios @Cardun Vrek @Darth Sedicious @DarthFeros @Darth Xxys @Volacius, @Metus, @Catalyst, @corinthia, @Reiis Invadator, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Arach

 

[Darth Thana]

IC: Darth Thana, Dread Master Of The Kissai

Outside The Banquet Hall, Sith Temple, Korriban

Darth Thana laughed slightly as Skyllan seemed to answer her question geared towards their former Master who fell short on a response like he was either dumbfound with words to put together or he felt himself better. "Pathetic Soldier..." Thana thought to herself as Skyllan followed up with "Well, I suppose we should go take a look at the treat that has been prepared for us."

She decided it was worth a walk out and away from the kriffing lizards as she followed out everyone outside right behind Skyllan towards their left side almost like it was planned from the banquet hall as Lady Apollyon directed them for darker indulgence. The sudden feeling of being tuned into the dark side once again was amazing, Currently she had no issue with the ashen colored sith Master and but the other so called Master seemed like a weak sith, his mind unfocused. A tingling yet satisfying feeling like a cold drink of water touching her trickling down her throat on the hottest of days as she felt the effects of the pesky force bubble lizards.

Peering eyes on the guillotine that was outside, the matching blood soaked sky behind it. Hearing that soon they would execute three prisoners, all bag bound to cover their identity. The shine Of the Guillotine's blade caught her focus more than anything as it's red color, it slight crackling sound coming from that direction. Thana gripped her palm as she craved the spilling of blood like a hungry animal yet she wanted to keep her outward appearance to display normally.

Everything felt right until Darth Viscretus stepped out ranting of her connection to Emperor Dreadwar and that she is the rightful Empress of the Sith. The thought of her taking control Of all the powerful sith that stood around here just because she has two Dread/Vahlan heirs and one growing. It was odd to think that everyone should just bow and kneel with little reasoning but the children she has as a "power grab". The tan skinned zabrak would watch carefully to see what others would do during this speech and act...

A soft "Perhaps," Skyllan murmured, voice soft enough that Thana could really hear, "She is thinking in a similar vein to you master. You mentioned earlier about wishing you were out hunting down cells of resistance before correct? Maybe she seeks to keep these three to successfully lure out the remainders of the federation." The question pointed towards a comment made by Volacius earlier in the night.

The Tan skinned zabrak turned as no one was responding back to Viscretus, the feelings that lingered around untapped as far as she knew. Thana began to attempt to pull all the negative emotions that lurked within the area where they all stood waiting to see who if anyone would speak up. Hoping that the emotions would fuel her further for whatever was to come out during this disaster display...

Suddenly the tension was cut like a flaming knife through butter when the Zabrak heard "Deceivers!" The word hissed outwards. Thana Turned her head to see a golden hair women that she wondered who she could be. She was accompanied by some others that were unmistakable Lord Grievance and Lord Invadator followed by another Sith who was chained up. The thought crossed her mind as to who had spoken out... Lady Hesper, Priestess. The other apprentice to The Emperor.

"Pretenders to the throne! You bicker and politick while threats from beyond lurk on your very threshold. Your attentions are misplaced. You follow leaders who seek to misguide you, putting you in the path of certain death—of the certain destruction of the Sith."

"There is only one true threat to the Sith. And quarreling over the throne will get us nowhere."

The scar caught Thana's attention as she kept attempting to tap into the emotions that should be Spiraling wild as more people joined into the display that was unfolding. Letting every ounce of negative emotions flow into her body. The Dread Master moved her left hand slowly towards her saber pike not as a threat but as preparation for any event that unfolds as she was blocked by others around. The hand motion should seem like she was touching part of her outfit but there was a plan behind it as she was fixed on the Butcher of Coruscant.

Something drew her attention towards the group that walked out with Volshe. Marvos, a master she had known more or less. Something he did caught her attention away from all those around as he moved in a pattern... one she knew well enough. He was casting a spell, the Mariette spell. But towards who? The motion was almost random if she had not learned it too and attempted it before.

Thana's suspicions were confirmed the moment she heard the name "Lady Hesper" uttered from Volshe's mouth. After a random dust cloud appeared, it caught Thana off guard as to who disappeared in the crowd of Sith gathered here. She had to catch a defense plan, no intelligent Sith is left without some sort of plan. Siding with Volshe seemed like a plan she would not take... However she emptied her mind as not to give away who was siding with yet, focusing her plan to take control.

Her eyes darted back to Marvos. Whether she was correct on the spell he was attempting, she had no idea who he planned to take control of. As an advantage she decided to try the spell herself but focused on him, Darth Marvos. Her hands moved away from the cool metal pike hidden on her body and motioned the spell as it would take time to go into full effect. The pattern her hands did as Thana Concentrated on her fellow Master Sorcerer. She hoped that his vision was not on her as she had her hands lower than most could see if they were not next to her. Thana had no clue how powerful he was attempting his spell so she used her full strength to attempt to link to his mind, she wanted him as a puppet as he stood on the other side...

Power Attemps-
Feed On The Dark Side -3
Qâzoi Kyantuska- 4



@Darth Dreadwar , @Arach , @dragonsith13 , @Grievance Vexx , @corinthia , @Drakul_Xarxes , @G.Kn , @Admiral Volshe , @Darth Kain , @Hadzuska_The Jester , @Darth Nathemus , @Darth Xirr @Darth Solus , @DarthNoxia , @Jihadi Quartz , @Voidwalker , @Ānhrā Māhnîu , @Helkosh , @Reatith Blodraald , @Sith_Imperios , @Cardun Vrek , @Darth Sedicious , @DarthFeros , @Darth Xxys , @Metus , @Catalyst , @Nacros_Telcontare

 

[Voidwalker]

(Combo With @Hadzuska_TheJester)
IC: Darth Voidwalker & Hadzuska
Passageway, Sith Temple, Korriban


The tattered and worn cloak swayed with each step, lightly sweeping along the stone tile walkway. The old cloak hung off of his frame, concealing the once shining, now dull battle scarred songsteel armor he wore. His boots showed their age, singing silent ballards of his experiences. They were dull, dust covered, and scuffed at the toe. Hardly the appearance of a Sith Lord. He looked more like a rogue that didn't belong anywhere, let alone amongst the elite ranks of the Sith Order.

Trailing Xxys and the rest of the group that Volshe had called for, the last of Voidwalker's self murmurings had just fell from his lips when he felt it. The unmistakable feeling of the dark side washing over him. It was invigorating. He breathed in deeply, feeling his connection to the Force growing stronger with ever passing step he took away from the feasting hall. "Ah, hello darkness my old friend." He whispered to himself, a silent celebration to having his connection reestablished.

Just up ahead he could see the others had stopped and gathered. It didn't take long for Apollyon's lackie to come rushing past him. Spouting and spewing some desperate plea of returning. No doubt upon Apollyon's orders. //I wonder how important this sniveling insect is to Apollyon?//

No sooner than Voidwalker had lazily caught up with the rest of the group just at the entryway of the antechamber, the young girl that had arrived with Volshe and Nihl came rushing past him. The slapping sound of her sandals echoed off the stone tiles. She seemed frantic running straight to Volshe, shouting at her and Nihl. Voidwalker's eyes widened when the young girl addressed them as "mother" and "father". Voidwalker took a step further into the antechamber, stepping right behind the Vong. He caught the majority of what the young girl was saying.

After quickly informing her mother of the Federation leaders that had been captured and sentenced to execution, Volshe clearly made her decision without hesitation. She barked out orders to Nihl, Nathemus, and Maladi to take the throne and defend it and her children no matter the cost, then asked the rest of the group to put their trust in her. Nathemus gave a warrior's response. One could hardly blame him when he was defending his family. It was noble. Something rare among the Sith, yet in this case, for Nathemus it seemed fitting.

Without another word, Volshe and her daughter were on the move. All of the key members seemed to have been given their direct orders and it seemed as if the time for words was over. Now was the time for actions to speak. Like a General leading her army into an inevitable battle with nothing but victory in sight, Volshe led her followers back out and through the passageway leading out to the would be execution grounds. As the last of the followers filled down through the passageway way, Voidwalker hung back, allowing the others to go ahead of himself. Voidwalker shot a piercing glance at the pawn of Apollyon, before finally making his own way out of the chamber, bringing up the rear of the group.

Passing through the corridor they had come from originally, there was something that hung in the air. It was more than the scent of food from the feast or the blood stained sand of the planet. Whatever it was, it was dreadful verging on the feeling of chaotic. With the cornucopia of Sith that had been at the feast, chaos was certainly a possibility. But this was different, this chaotic yet dreadful feeling was like death without life and life without death. It was unnatural and lacked any sense of understanding. //Should Volshe ignite the spark, the Sith Order as it had been will be destroyed, yet whoever claims victory will recreate the Sith in their likeness. Yet how do you do neither live or die and yet remain?//

Nearing the great hall, the effects of the ysalamiri once again took hold, the feeling of the Force slowly retreating its way from any unfortunate enough to be caught in the area. As he approached, an image seemed to shine out to him as if a darkened beacon among ship wreckage. Just through the doors, at the other end of the hall, it sat there, a mystery with potential answers within. The Holocron that had been sat in the banquet throne of Dreadwar.

Holocrons held the potential to be vast wells of knowledge, perhaps why it had been chosen specifically would be answered within it. Out of any holocro the temple had, why had this one been chosen specifically? A question he didn't bother to dwell on. "There is always more to learn." //Ah Nathemus, you brilliant fool.//

Voidwalker quickly ducked back into the Great Hall, finding himself assumedly alone. If anyone spotted him, perhaps they would just assume he was taking sides after Volshe made her way out onto the sands, or maybe he was moving into a vantage point. Yet he was doing neither of these things, he simply approached the throne taking in the size of the Holocron sat before him, begging to be studied.

As Volshe made her way out onto the sands, creating such a commotion, Hadzuska seen his chance to get away from the crowd. Reentering the feast he felt his connection to the Force cease once more. Approaching the holocron he eyes it. //What is the best way to gain the knowledge within, without the others knowing?//

Hadzuska would look around and find that he was not the only one here interested in the holocron. Another idea came to mind. "You want the holocron for yourself, don't you?"

As the new and unexpected voice rang out, Voidwalker turned on his heel, left hand dropping to the hilt of his lightsaber that swung from his belt. It was the one from the feast, the one that he first thought to be the apprentice that he once trained, before getting himself blown up. What a joke that had been. Obviously this was not the apprentice. "What I want is of my concern." Voidwalker started off in protest of the strangers words.

Hadzuska paused for a moment. "Due to its size it would be awkward for almost anyone to take by themselves, especially in a place where you can't use the Force. If you want it, I can help you take it. All I ask in return is to witness what knowledge it has to offer. You can keep it for yourself."

Hadzuska was actually being genuine with this, and felt no need to lace his words with lies. If he took the holocron for himself it would be putting a target on his back, when all he wished for was it's knowledge anyways. No this way is better, let the Lord keep it and just share the knowledge with him. "Do we have an accord?"

Looking back to the Holocron, there was no denying it, its size and weight would make it difficult for one person alone. The weight by itself might not have been an issue but then adding in the shape of the Holocron and that could prove difficult. Voidwalker moved his hand from the hilt of his saber and corrected his posture. The noise of marching and voices that had rushed into the hall from the open door ways had strangely fell silent. Then it came, a voice so power and heavy that it could bend the stars to it's will. “Do as your Empress commands!"

//That's Kain's voice! Whatever Volshe said has surly caused something big to happen if Kain is speaking like that. Time is not on our side here.// "You have a deal. You help me get it out of here and you can bare witness the information which it holds. Now let's get going. We don't have much time left. Here take the right side and I'll get the left, we'll exit out over there and take the stairs down."

The instructions were simple enough, and the two of them should easily be able to carry it. All the important Sith that carried any sense of authority would be with the others outside. Voidwalker assumed that if he ran into any apprentices then they would know better than to question a Lord. Perhaps he could even get them to carry it under his own orders.

As the pair approached the Holocron and reached down to lift it up, a massive booming sound blasted through the entire area. Sand and dust flying about even through the open door ways. "What was that?" Voidwalker quickly ran out the door just a step to try and see what the cause of the blasting sound wave was. There was a woman standing in a crater of red sand and all eyes were on her. "Who in chaos is that?" She wasn't very large in size but the impacted area she stood in would suggest otherwise. Her blonde locks of hair blew in the silent Korriban wind, a noticable scar across her face and eye. Finally she broke the silence and spoke out.

"Pretenders to the throne! You bicker and politick while threats from beyond lurk on your very threshold. Your attentions are misplaced. You follow leaders who seek to misguide you, putting you in the path of certain death—of the certain destruction of the Sith. There is only one true threat to the Sith. And quarreling over the throne will get us nowhere. I have seen what is to come. The end is near."

//WHO THE HELL IS SHE? WHERE DID SHE COME FROM?!?//

Finally there was movement, Darth Skyllan, the winged Sith that Voidwalker had come to know as a being of logic and destruction. They stood in front of the woman before dropping to a knee and exclaiming "Hail Darth Hesper! Hail the High Priestess of the Force!"

//Hesper! Darth Hesper? As in the "Butcher" Hesper? I thought she was dead, a forgotten myth and idol for the Sith to rally behind her victory!//

Voidwalker turned and rushed back in where his new would be companion was, Voidwalker's face giving away signs of worry. "Ok we are out of time, we have to go now! Things just went from unsteady to kriffing terrible. Come on, grab your end and let's go!" Voidwalker placed his hands around and under the Holocron ready to attempt to make their way out.

No other words were needed, Hadzuska offered a nod to the one he'd made this temporary alliance with. Taking hold of his side they both lifted the Holocron, and made for their way out. They followed the Sith's directions with their bounty of knowledge.

Tags: @Darth Dreadwar, @Admiral Volshe, @corinthia, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Drakul_Xarxes, @Reiis Invadator, @Darth Kain, @Catalyst, @@Hadzuska_The Jester, @Darth Nathemus, @Darth Xirr, @DarthNoxia, @Jihadi Quartz, @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @Helkosh, @Reatith Blodraald, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Sedicious, @DarthFeros, @Darth Xxys, @Metus, @G.Kn, @Nacros_Telcontare

 

[Zareel Jhenan´doka]

IC: Apprentice Zareel Jhenan'doka
Leaving the training room, Sith Temple, Korriban

At the gesture of the overseer, she had stopped with the infructuous search of her flask to adjust her clothes and make her way to the door quickly. Involuntarily something caught her attention, her antennae twitched imperceptibly as two of the other apprentices spoke to each other. It was not unusual, many of them had developed bonds of affection or out of habit; though something in the midst of their conversation was strikingly out of the ordinary.

What was the necessity of whispering about the one who was not to be kept waiting if it was an order they had all received? Somewhere else first? A knot formed in the pit of her stomach after they had justified themselves to Master Xiannarr, it was not a comforting situation. Since she was a little girl that feeling came to her when a dangerous situation was near, or she had eaten too many mushrooms. Anyway, who in this scenario had a higher rank than Lady Apollyon? Her eyes wandered for a moment, looking at the others as she walked, trying to determine if Kielor, Keres, or Nacros knew anything that she had missed.

Such a gathering of powerful individuals did not seem healthy to Zareel; she had only just recently begun enjoying her life and hoped to be able to do so for a while longer. The problem was that in her mind, the banquet looked like a tray full of vials of nitroglycerine in the hands of a very drunk bad juggler; any false move and they would all be absolutely screwed.

Ermir had apparently managed to put to good use his last neuron that was typically focused on the lower half of his body and had followed the two apprentices.

Zareel continued to pick up her pace. Her eyesight was a sense she did not usually rely on, but her hearing was more effective, especially if she wished to learn something without suspiciously staring at someone; though it was problematic to hear anything fully defined the further away they went; especially without moving away from the rest of the group herself. Still, she could hear Ermir commanding their attention, apparently not very effective. He didn't seem to be the best example of authority that day.

Master Xiannar in front of her, seemed for a moment to focus his attention on the spot where Sol, Loharr and Ermir were standing; did he notice something odd as well? No, he didn't... He was just playing the macho card.

The Balosar sighed heavily, standing a couple of paces behind him and massaging the bridge of her nose. Two masters, and neither of them had been able to stop two apprentices acting suspiciously in the middle of an important meeting, other than to get answers out of them as vague as their own desire to be in charge of them.

Putting her hands in her pockets, she continued on her way, listening to the footsteps moving away down the wrong staircase. Unless something really blew up in a disastrous way no one there would know enough to prepare or flee in the worst-case scenario.


TAG: @Keres Dymos @Kielor @Nacros_Telcontare @skira @Undying Master Xiannarr @Darth Dreadwar @Loharr Talem

 

[Rayge]

IC: Rayge Vigor
Trenches, Desrini District, Coruscant

Rayge watched meticulously as the Commander fiddled with his binoculars wondering why his helmet hadn't been internally fitted with them. Rayge's attention had barely broken away from the Commander's tiresome frustration when his words rang through the trenches

"Incoming!"

As the Commander dropped to the ground against the barrier Rayge used the force to heighten his senses and increase his reaction time preparing for the unexpected. He leaped up quickly surveying the general area for the cause of Threntel's distress and was alarmed by the rapidly approaching projectile threatening to end their stand before the reinforcements had time to arrive.

"Kriff!"

That was all he had time to say before instinctually reaching out with force grasping the RPS-6 rocket and attempting to alter its trajectory towards the atmosphere rather than at him and his comrades. The feat seemed to be taking hours each nerve entangling within him set ablaze by the tingling sensation rushing over him, a mix of adrenaline and the surge of the force finding its escape through his outstretched hands envisioning the twisting and turning of the projectile as if a toy within his hands then releasing it once he thought it was cast off target. What had appeared hours was truthfully mere seconds, the slowing of the world around him was hastily subsiding as he released the force from his servitude before dipping behind the barrier to avoid the projectile if his attempt had failed, any additional shots, or shrapnel. Looking to his Sith brothers next to him in the trenches, adrenaline and concern still wrapping his face...

Force abilities:
• Augmentation (1)
• enhance attribute (1)
• Telekinesis (3)

TAG: @Kint Dranlor @Dorrian Shadowsun

 

[Sith_Imperios]

IC: Darth Mirtis
Outside the Banquet Hall, Sith Temple, Korriban

Darth Mirtis had taken a few more gulps of his flask before putting it away and his helm back on his head. Many seem to have began leaving, but he waited for Lady Noxia's signal that they too would be departing. But no such thing came as Apollyon made an announcement.
“Come! Come, all of you! Let us witness the execution of our true enemies!”

An execution?
The hunter within Mirtis was interested to see what prey was caught. He was certainly interested to see who would be killed at this gathering. So he let his curiosity guide him along with the crowd that gathered out the banquet hall. The guillotine caught his eye, though thought if that was the method of execution then it was a bit mundane. But that thought was interrupted as the force returned to him, like a breath of fresh air. He looked around letting his senses get a feel for his surroundings. He looked to the covered individuals that were chained up, being brought out which Mirtis assumed to be the ones lined up for execution. But before anything could proceed, the air went stale.

Darth Viscretus appeared before the gathered Sith, laying claim to the throne and demanding she needed these individuals alive. Her reasoning made Mirtis roll his eyes under his helm. He found the reasoning absurd as he prepared himself for a battle, feeling the tension in the air shift. It seemed blood would spill one way or another. However, it seemed another guest to this gathering had just arrived. Entering the scene, a single word uttered caught the attention of many.
"Decievers!" Mirtis turned his attention to see another entourage of Sith arrive. A golden haired woman spoke out with such authority. But it was her gaze along with such a scar that made him feel an intense pressure. Her presence to him felt like a hunter who had gone up against a fierce beast and lived to tell the tale, spreading a dark warning to those who do not know what lurks beyond.
"I have seen what is to come. The end is near."

So a beast of death is bound to arrive. Mirtis thought to himself.

Those words felt heavy to Darth Mirtis. His instincts told him very well that whatever she deemed to be the end, was nothing short of an apex predator. As he thought before, survival was his main objective. But given the power that radiated in the area, he knew the chance of getting caught in the crossfire were high.
He did not reach for his katana, instead he decided to bring his defenses up. He began closing his mind, mentally shielding himself incase his mind was to be attacked. He was ready to attempt dodging the first attack instead of dishing it out himself. He let the force flow within him, hoping it would provide him with some type of edge. Like a beast in the jungle hunting their prey, he waited patiently. Yet he prepared himself to face off against other hunters after the same prey. But a question did poke at his mind as his eyes scanned the area for potential attackers. Should he instead prepare himself to escape rather then fight a pointless battle?

Force abilities attempted:
Mind Shield-4
Augmentation-4

@Darth Dreadwar @Arach @dragonsith13 @Grievance Vexx @corinthia @Drakul_Xarxes @G.Kn @Admiral Volshe @Darth Kain @Hadzuska_The Jester @Darth Nathemus @Darth Xirr @Darth Solus @DarthNoxia @Jihadi Quartz @Voidwalker @Ānhrā Māhnîu @Helkosh @Reatith Blodraald @Darth Thana @Cardun Vrek @Darth Sedicious @DarthFeros @Darth Xxys @Metus @Catalyst @Nacros_Telcontare

 

[Omegon]

IC: Omegon

Location: Trenches, Desrini District, Coruscant



Bolts of superheated plasma whipped overhead as Omegon stood in the trench, Pythonus by his side and Sith troopers surrounding him. “Well met, Rayge. However, my plan requires a little more subtlety than a simple charge. Shadowsun!” Omegon called out to the other Sith, the daemonic Maelibus, passing a brief breakdown of the plan to him with his mind. They would need his help if they were to take the enemy by surprise, he knew. But with his help, they could perform a beautiful pincer, and hopefully bring down a few Jedi before they even knew what was upon them.



Turning, Omegon wondered where the horned Sith was. And as he turned, the corner of his eye picked up a flash of movement, the telltale smoke and burst of light of a rocket launch.



“Incoming!”



The words sounded in his ears with echoing clarity, and Omegon knew his life hung in the balance, along with the assault on the rebel Jedi. He could not let it end here, and more importantly he could not let this impudence stand. They dared try to kill him and his allies with such a mundane weapon? He felt Rayge reaching out with the force, attempting to alter the trajectory of the projectile. With a flick of thought, Omegon instructed Pythonus to reach out and aid him, pushing the rocket skywards with his own telekinesis. Omegon, meanwhile, had a larger plan, one with more extravagance and effect. A plan that, if executed properly, could even further break the enemy lines in preservation for the assault.



Crouched in the trench, hoping to shield himself from the blast should the telekinesis fail, he reached out with mechu deru, searching for the offending rebel, the one with the rocket launcher, as well as any others nearby with similar weaponry. They wished to wield advanced weapons of war against him? Fine. He would turn their guns back on themselves. Once he detected them, a smile stretched across his face, his teeth bared beneath his helm. “Good shot. But now it’s my turn.” The words were followed by a modulating chuckle, a vipers hiss of static and undulating sound.



And with that, he focused his mind, and brought all of his will forward into detonating every rocket or grenade that he could sense the rebels had remaining, his control of mechanical and electrical systems exerted in full through mechu deru. They would die, screaming and burning, for their crime of threatening the Sith. They would know, in their last agonizing seconds, that they had failed. It was too late for surrender, and far too late for victory. They would be torn apart piece by piece, atomized if need be, if that was what it took for Omegon to claim his victory.



Turning, Omegon looked down at the Sith officer Threntel. Continually, he had spouted the importance of staying out, holding the line, and waiting for reinforcements. But they had been here for hours, and Omegon had no further intention of waiting. If his ploy with Mechu deru had worked, the enemy lines would be scattered, disoriented, and disorganized, and more than likely unable to properly respond to a threat. That, combined with the possibility for a surprise pincer assault provided by the Maelibus’s unique biology, put them in an ideal position to be taking the offensive. “Commander Threntel. You have led well, but the time for hiding has passed. I have access to abilities beyond the mundane, and I can sense the enemy’s weakness and where we should strike. I ask you now to rally the troops for a charge; If my plan works accordingly, Shadowsun and Pythonus will be able to appear in the enemy’s midst, drawing their attention away from our lines. From there, it should only take seconds for our men to cross the intervening distance into their trenches. Do we have an agreement?”

Force abilities attempted:
Mechu Deru - 3 (Omegon)
Telekinesis - 2 (Pythonus)

Tags: @Dorrian Shadowsun @Rayge @Darth Dreadwar

 

[dragonsith13]

Draconis
Storage bay ~ Aboard the Sibyl II ~ above Korriban

The door to the makeshift prison slid open with the familiar hiss as two figures adorned in the markings of the Sith, lightly armored and both armed, approached him.

The two Sith Knights paused for a moment as they stared at him…

A pair of what appeared to be technicians, scurried about just outside the room, as they came into view slightly as they addressed a control panel that had been fashioned as a remote administrative panel to control the apparatus in the room. which consequently helped slightly to limit the number of sick bay cases. Hastily wired and cobbled together so that no one would have to enter the room anymore.

There was an audible surge in power which was followed by the sound of the anchored restraints sequentially being released. Each one snapping as the bindings affixing them to the bulkheads were released. Draconis slammed down into the floor, with the appearance of having little to no strength to resist. The barbed needles anchoring the sedation tubes in his back, were yanked out nearly all at once, tearing away slightly at the flesh in his back.

Limp and prone on the floor, the two Sith Knights approached. Cautiously - both of them had seen several of their comrades dispatched when attempting to gather this being.

Surprisingly though they met little resistance. One of the Knights drew his lightsaber. Igniting it, the hum of the crimson blade echoed in the storage bay as he held it inches from the captive being’s neck as the other Knight moved to secure the restraints needed to move Draconis.

Draconis was ready to be moved, the tethered bindings on his wrists and ankles used to secure him in the storage bay had been replaced for a set of binders that held his wrists and hands together at his waist. The collar was still in place as the spikes continued to dig into his neck slightly with now one of the tethered cables affixed to it.

Nearing the hangar, the pair of Knights emerged with Draconis in tow. The lead Knight who held the end of the tethered leash affixed to the collar around Draconis' neck, yanked hard, pulling Draconis forward as he stumbled down the hallway adjacent to the hangar. Draconis slammed into the side arch of a blastdoor as they entered the larger hangar. Nearly falling but keeping his feet just enough so that he did not fall completely.

The butt of the lightsaber of the one knight cracked Draconis in the back of the head. “Keep moving.”, while the Knight at the end of Draconis’ leash regained control, pulling him along like a leashed Tuk’ata. The hum of the second knight’s lightsaber in his ear as the tip of the blade was brought to point back at him as stumbled forward.

Draconis smiled as he passed the Admiral, the commander of the Sibyl II. No doubt the Admiral was more than pleased to see Draconis being escorted off of his ship.

Hesper was present with what seemed a number of guards and a light contingency of troops, their silver pikes and dark phrik armor reflecting upon the hangar floor. "Bring Lord Draconis with us; Lords Grievance and Invadator shall oversee his escort. After all, he was their master." Lord? How he hated that title.. As it was cast upon him.

He offered a cock head gaze at both the large cybernetic looking beast, with reptilian eyes and the black clad female warrior that were standing near Hesper. Both of them seemingly having been directed to escort him further. Sensing a number of conflicting emotions in them both as to the sight of him in chains and restrained. One of the other Sith present seemed to recognize him, as he did of her. Arach. A distant memory of an encounter on the sands below coming into his mind - the emergence from the desert with Cruor following decades in the Korrian wild - and subsequent fighting alongside her during an invasion of the Temple at that time before Mortis.

Hesper watched as Draconis passed by her, his eyes glancing over at hers for the briefest of moments a silent emotionless gaze from his solid black eyes that was broken as he was lurched forward again by the yank from the Sith Knight leading him with the leash and nearly dragging him up the shuttle ramp where the binders on his wrists were attached to an anchor point in the shuttles main hold.

With everyone aboard - they were underway and the subsequent expected pep talk ensued. Attempting to instill a mental focus for the events that were about to unfold. The whispers inside his head were beginning to return. The sedatives and poisons that had kept him nearly fully sedated were quickly wearing off. One of the technicians that had been monitoring him from outside the room at one point remarked that the amount of poison and sedatives they had been steadily pumping into him would have killed a dozen tuk’atas.

They were descending now. The feeling of non- artificial gravity returning as the pierced the atmosphere of Korriban. There was a palpable unease - at what it seemed they were walking into - the aura of frivolity and celebration that hung over the planet below like a death anchor… “I couldn’t trouble you for a window seat butcher?” Draconis spoke… the words in his head coming out quite clear - but in reality they were an indiscernible jumble of slurs. He would have appreciated a better view of the artificial graveyard that orbited much of Korriban now. The skeletons of countless battles and the conflict of millennia. The eerie silence of space and visage of conflict that made this world what it was. That along with the glow of the crimson blood sand of Pesegam.

The echo of Hesper’s words rang in his ears, a bit more clearly now as she bid her companions to stay close. They had leveled off. The air tight compartment of the shuttle hold underwent decompression and with a hiss the main landing ramp of the shuttle began to open as the shuttle circled into its landing track. Hesper exited the shuttle, leaping into a controlled descent that sent her streaming like a meteor down towards the ground as the shuttle tried to keep pace. Her entrance akin to the myths and legends of the bedtime stories that were read to little children as she landed equally with fury, grace, and pose. Draconis watched further through the opening of the shuttle ramp as they came down to land nearby.

There was a gathering… she had not mentioned such. Though he half expected such a scene and event to happen. There was a slight hole in the force, dampening the temple. Very few things could create such a void. ysalamir, perhaps. A well calculated gamble on the part of whomever had deployed them.

Draconis was able to see through the now fully open shuttle ramp as they turned into the final landing approach, a mass of gathered beings. Throngs of people; common folk, servants, guards littered one side of the temple and dotted throughout were more prominent beings of notes as their signatures radiated their auras within the force.

An entourage of Sith surrounded a lilith woman, adorned in finery and regaling herself with great importance near what appeared to be a crafted execution gallery and a number of guillotines that appeared to be ready for use. How exciting he thought. A trio of bound captives poised for their use.

Hesper wasted no time, she had already begun to prophesize when the shuttle landed, interrupting the lilith woman that was projecting herself across the gathered mass going on about her claim to the Sith as the rightful Empress….

He ignored it all.

Even as the two Sith Knights that continued to keep him in tow began to drag him down the shuttle ramp. A wave of familiarity washed over him as he was busy peering upon the red walled cliffs and mountains of the valleys surrounding it, ignoring the throng of people gathered as his mind drifted to the world of Korriban itself.

As they approached the bottom of the ramp. Draconis was lurched forward by the Knight attached to the other end of his leash, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground rather unceremoniously but indicative of a bound and chained captive. He was still only clad what remained of his black dress robes. His hands and finger dug into the red sand as he fell forward, the grit of the coarse blood soaked world rubbing against his skin and upper body as his shoulder dug into the sand. His face nearly planted firmly into it as well, as one of his cheeks resting on the red sand. He could feel the grit of the red sand upon the corner of his mouth and as he breathed in and out the fine particles of sand near his mouth were blown forth. The smell of the earth, with his face pressed up to it... was intoxicating. His eyes rolled back into his head, a chill ran down his spine as his mind swirled with a violent torment of emotion and memories that snapped him back to an even more cognizant state despite the cocktail of toxins that still flowed in his veins. The nerves on his skin seemed to reach to the sand and feed off of it.

Draconis felt one of the Sith Knights grab him as he was lifted back to his feet, interrupting his moment of commune. The Knight lifted him up with one arm while holding his ignited crimson lightsaber at the ready. A rapid aura of unease flowed into the Knight's mind which culminated in the Knight clutching at his throat with his one free hand. Then suddenly within an instant his throat was snapped telekinetically with a violent wretch that nearly twisted his head from his body, the man’s head now facing backward in a grim and excruciating moment of death. The second Knight holding the tether of Draconis leash had failed to register his companions sudden death, and with a yank of the leash he felt the cabling go taught for a moment. His head whirled about as he felt himself pulled back towards the being he had been parading around. He felt himself lurch forward, to see the crimson blade of his fellow Knight hanging in the air by itself as he was decapitated by it as he passed by Draconis.

The crimson blade hung in the air, humming for a moment longer before the snap-hiss of is dis-igniting was heard and the metal cylinder fell to the red sand. The leash that had been tether to the Knight now completely slack and laying in the red sand next to Draconis with a mangled and headless corpse beside him.

Draconis simply breathed in standing there, not moving. Seemingly content that the disturbance to his commune with Korriban was now silent.

Draconis was brought out of his trance-like stance as he once again heard Hesper’s voice as she continued to chastise the gathered Sith with a warning of an impending doom. Threats to the Sith, the galaxy at large. It was a good speech, he thought.

A Sith burst forth - stepping up to pledge himself to Hesper. "I, Darth Skyllan, pledge myself completely to you, and your Will."

Draconis black eyes fell upon him, it was very likely that he would die first… Draconis made a mental note… adding to his list.

There was a slight galvanizing of the gathered, with the many revelations being cast about into the crisp air of the red planet.

Viscretus, ah yes. Now he understood as he further recognized her as she attempted to corral the situation. Addressing Hesper with a smooth even toned voice as she looked to diffuse the supposid revelation from Hesper with an silky admonishment of her own awareness of what Hesper spoke of. Whether true or not, her projecting meant to diffuse what was a powderkeg moment.

Draconis took in a long breath, the collar around his neck still affixed as the cable leash as he glanced over to the black clad armored woman and the imposing cybernetic beast with reptilian eyes. His head and and eyes gesturing to the leash that lay in the red sand as if directing them to carry on with the “duty” of keeping him in tow. He was making no attempt to escape, he just stood there waiting, content as if his situation was no different than any other despite him being in chains so to speak. “Come on Apprentices…” Draconis spoke with a grin inviting them to pick the cable up while implying that he was familiar with them and supposedly recognizing them as ‘his’ Apprentices at the earlier comments of Hesper being their Master and playing along.

@Darth Dreadwar, @Arach, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @corinthia, @Drakul_Xarxes, @G.Kn, @Admiral Volshe, @Darth Kain, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Darth Nathemus, @Darth Xirr, @Darth Solus, @DarthNoxia, @Jihadi Quartz, @Voidwalker, @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @Helkosh, @Reatith Blodraald, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Sedicious, @DarthFeros, @Darth Xxys, @Metus, @Catalyst, @Nacros_Telcontare

 

[Helkosh]

IC: Darth Pravum

"The assignment in question is to detail a particular style of diplomacy. I maintain that there is no greater deterrent of war than to start another war with a more hated enemy.", - excerpt from an essay signed H.Y., Theed University file storage

“Mother! Mother! Father!”, the young woman's voice echoed through the hallway. “You must come with me. Now. Now! There is an execution. Of the Federation leaders!”

Pravum's eyes narrowed and he pinched the bridge of his nose. Shiraya, this feast is so boring., he thought to himself.

Viscretus commanded her immediate family to safeguard the throneroom. Even in crisis, a politician would always be a politician. She then turned to address the remaining gathered members of her cohort. "The rest of you, follow me. You will have to indulge your trust in me. I have trusted you for the last many months, I know we have common goal. I know well you do not understand what I am about to do. That you will have desired to see the deaths of our enemies, as I would, in a different place and different time. But I assure you, it is for the greater good. I assure you, the Sith are always, and have always been my priority. Your survival, the survival of the Sith is paramount to me. And I implore you, now, in this moment of great importance both to the Sith, and the galaxy, to stand and fight by my side.”

Pravum's eyes rolled with severity enough to knock a charging veermok onto his rear. Words, nothing more. Pravum hungered for action. He'd done nothing but work the past few months. It had been a shocking change of pace for a man who'd spent the majority of his life doing whatever he wanted and leaving the work to others. Even as a member of Volshe's Council, his efforts consisted of showing up late to meetings and delegating out any actual work that needed to be done. But, he'd figured, upon cracking the code to eternal life he'd get any time spent working back, with interest, to spend lazing on the beaches of Hapes or in the spas of the uppermost levels of Coruscant, assuming that it ever fully recovered from the Butcher. Yes, yes, we get it., he thought as Volshe took a moment to speak to Cordé. Let's go.

And so, finally, they did go. Out into the sun and sands of Korriban, sunset gleaming over dunes and ancient temples. Volshe rushed for the terrace upon which the execution was to commence, and Pravum followed. She addressed the gathered Lords and Ladies, whose expressions of shock inversed Pravum's own blasé. As Volshe commanded the execution be stayed, Pravum secretly hoped someone would disagree, and that something would break out, a threat he could contain, any glimmer of excitement or intrigue reveal itself. And yet, none did. The Sith, many of whom just minutes ago had been plotting her demise, seemed to respect her authority, as nods and murmurs of acceptance, albeit disdained acceptance, broke out. Darth Kain publicly declared his allegiance to her. And then, the woman fell out of the sky.

Pravum knew who she was before she opened her mouth. How could he not? Her face had been the subject of near every HoloNews report in the galaxy after she'd conquered Coruscant and culled the Galactic Federation Triumvirate's Senate body, and still to this day the mystery of her disappearance alongside other prominent Sith like Darth Insipid was the subject of forensic, scientific, and popular intrigue. Darth Hesper, the Butcher of Coruscant. And now, here she was, a shuttled quietly hissing to the ground behind her, packed with Sith and soldiers. "Deceivers!", she cried out. Her voice shockingly feminine, almost small, for one so large in the eyes of the galaxy. "There is only one threat to the Sith. And quarreling over the throne will get us nowhere! I have seen what is to come. The end is near.", she announced, drawing even more murmurs from the crowd. The sky'tri Darth Skyllan declared his allegiance, loudly and religiously, like a primitive humanoid praying to an errant starship as a god.

Now the three women, each important in their own way, stood together and talked. Viscretus, Hesper, Apollyon. Like three stars sucked into one anothers' orbits. Would they find a way to coexist? Or would they clash? And if they did, who would still shine when the dust settled? Darth Draconis, a man whom Pravum knew of on account of their shared Master, a century apart, joined Hesper.

The silence of loud anticipation washed over the crowd, all waiting to see what would unfold. The next sentence spoken upon the terrace would decide the fate of not only the Order, but the galaxy. Please let there be a fight, I've not killed anyone important in weeks., Pravum thought to himself.

TAGSDarth Dreadwar, @Arach, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @Drakul_Xarxes, @G.Kn, @Admiral Volshe, @Darth Kain, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Darth Nathemus, @Darth Xirr, @Darth Solus, @DarthNoxia, @Jihadi Quartz, @Voidwalker, @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @Reatith Blodraald, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Sedicious, @DarthFeros, @Darth Xxys, @Metus, @Catalyst, @Nacros_Telcontare, @corinthia

 

[Dorrian Shadowsun]

IC: Dorrian Shadowsun
Trenches, Desrini District, Coruscant


Dorrian watched closely as the commander fiddled with his binoculars, trying his best to get a better look at the enemy's positions and strength. An incoming rocket caused the commander to fumble more and retreat partially into the trench at the impending explosion only to have Rayge stand his ground to deflect it.

A voice penetrated his mind as he closed the distance between him and his Sith brothers;

“We need a distraction. A way to disrupt their line and gain the upper hand. A tunnel!” The voice had not yet completely faded and Dorrian was already on the move. Looking across the battlefield directly at the Jedi that commanded them he knew his task.

“You two, with me!” Dorrian barked at the nearest troopers as rubble began to fly from the trench, soil, and rock giving way to the Maelibus' massive claws and strength, easily shredding his way through the ground toward the enemy trenches. The sounds of war above him were muted and distant as he worked his way through the soil as if it was happening on some distant battlefield and not directly above him. The sounds of heavy machinery and tanks became vastly more evident the closer he got to his target.


Turning inside the tunnel was not easy but manageable, the rough-hewn walls gave Dorrian something easy to grab a hold of as he passed over the troopers he had brought with him. He muscled a large rock free from its resting place and wedged it into the opening he had just made, sealing them off from the rest of their forces. Crawling back to the front edge of the tunnel he turned toward the troopers before speaking.


“Cover your ears. Do not let any sound into them or you will perish.” He turned toward the end of the tunnel as he finished speaking and cupped his hands around his mouth as the troopers hastily packed dirt into their ears to block as much sound as possible just as Dorrian let loose with a cacophony of sound that shook the very ground they were surrounded by. Having been only a meter or so beneath them he hoped it wouldn't drown out too much of the sound before it reached them. He prepared himself to be introduced to the Jedi personally.


Force Powers:
Concentration – 2
Force Bellow - 3
Natural Ability - Hypnotic Voice

Tags: @Rayge @Kint Dranlor

 

[Xarxes]

IC: Drakul Xarxes​

He sensed her presence before her ship came into view. The energy of the bond between them flared for the first time since he had last seen the Prophetess. It was her. Hesper was here!

And then she plummeted from the sky, dust settling in a cloud around her as she rose from her crouch. No sooner had her warned left her lips than his Sky’tri companion declared unending loyalty to the Butcher of Coruscant. Judging by the mixture of feelings hanging in the air, Xarxes could tell that this might not have proven the wisest move. Naturally, the Nightfather’s own loyalty would be known to her, though in this mixed company, and with Volshe’s command over such figures as Kain, Nihl, and many more, he figured that the public display of his oath would cause undue tension, more so than what was present already, and so with careful telepathy, he reached out to the scarred Priestess.

“I am yours to command,” his discordant voice intoned.

Returning his focus to his surroundings, he saw the shuttle with several prominent figures emerging. A woman dressed in short robes, unfamiliar to him; a great cyborg with runes upon his armor, his flowing cape billowing in the light wind of Korriban; a figure in black, adorning a helm from the day of the Galactic Empire, the symbol of the New Sith Order emblazoned on her shoulders. Master?

It had been years since Xarxes had last seen General Reiis Invadator, his former teacher. Indeed, he had not seen her since shortly after the Battle of Coruscant before she disappeared with other Sith, not to be seen or heard from again.

Until now.

The Nightfather desired to speak with her soon, if possible. Whatever Hesper had not told him, she would almost certainly divulge. He prepared to move towards them until he saw yet another figure, flanked by others, being moved off the shuttle. Even though he had never formally met this being, the tales passed around by all ranks held the same sense of dread. There was no mistaking it. This was Darth Draconis, one of the fiercest and deadliest beings in the galaxy. But how was he chained, and how had he not yet broken free of his bonds? Perhaps the might of the other Sith present had thwarted such plans in his mind, yet he seemed so calm despite his shackles.

The speaking Empress of the New Galactic Empire rent him from his thoughts. Despite her seemingly calm demeanor, she very clearly bore venom for Darth Hesper. He didn’t trust her, but Lord Kain did.

The Ar’Adas shot a glance towards the Beloved Prince of Stars, pondering briefly whether the Son of Abeloth would he betray his brotherhood if it meant following Volshe. He was not assured that Volshe had no malicious intent here, but if Hesper’s words were anything to go by, the politicking of Volshe and Apollyon had to cease now, and everyone needed to be informed of the dangers ahead.

He continued to rest a hand on his sword, his Mqaaq’it darting in several directions to catch familiar faces. Ānhrā and Sedicous had vanished, as had Catalyst. He did not catch Xxys either, though whether this was due to his stealthy nature of some use of the Force, he could not tell.

He refocused himself, gritting his teeth beneath his helm. The surmounting threat of doom was palpable, and everyone could feel it. An icy chill ran up Xarxes’s spine.

It was not from the frigid desert of Korriban.

Powers Used: Force Bond (4)
Telepathy (4)

Tags: @Darth Dreadwar, @Arach, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @corinthia, @Drakul_Xarxes, @G.Kn, @Admiral Volshe, @Darth Kain, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Darth Nathemus, @Darth Xirr, @Darth Solus, @DarthNoxia, @Jihadi Quartz, @Voidwalker, @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @Helkosh, @Reatith Blodraald, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Sedicious, @DarthFeros, @Darth Xxys, @Metus, @Catalyst, @Nacros_Telcontare

 

[DarthFeros]

IC: Darth Krayt
Execution Grounds
Korriban



He followed Apollyon, more as a political means than anything else. And as soon as he stepped out the doors, he felt it. Like a rushing flame, warm as the twin suns of native Tatooine. The Force. The Dark Side. His One constant companion. His eternal confidant. And it ran cold when he saw the visages of the prisoners.


He had to be honest with himself, up until this, he hadn't been paying attention. He'd been locked in an argument inside his own head.


"I'm going to kill all of them. Not today. Not tomorrow. But one by one. I am patient. And I will reclaim my Throne."


"That Throne isn't yours to claim. It belongs to Emperor Dreadwar, and no one else. And anyone who claims otherwise is a fool, and is doomed."


"Dreadwar himself is a fool, and a pretender to my Throne. The ladder he climbed, he could only reach standing on my shoulders."


"Emperor Dreadwar has lived for 1,000 lifetimes. He has mechaninated his ascendancy for millenia untold, through centuries of patience and preparation. You spent barely 100 years hiding to avoid being wiped away like a stain. I know you, great pretender. Just as you see my thoughts, I can see yours. I know your past, A'sharad Hett. You slithered your way into power through a series of pin holes left in the periphery of three Galactic powers. You didn't earn your place. You took it through sheer luck and oversight."


"You don't even exist! You're an afterimage burned into the brain in this body, and when you fade, I'm going to murder that whore in your temple and dance on her grave! The only reason I don't now is because I enjoy the suffering it causes her to think you're still alive."


"We'll see."


But the fur covered feet and long front of the hood had snapped him out of his trance. And then Volshe arrived, calling for a stay of execution. He agreed, at least for the furry one. Krayt had wanted to kill K'kruhk for as long as he could remember. And the other one, the blue one! That had to be Gar Stazi! Which meant the woman could only be the Fel girl! Oh, they were all in one place!


He considered the implications, and looked up at the Guillotine. Anyone could say what they would, this was no way for a Warrior like K'kruhk to die. No way at all. Krayt had grown up Tusken. The Tribes had a sense of honor, and there were rules to dictate such things. Even they, savage as they were, just executed those condemned to death. They would allow them to fight, or exile them, but they would never just kill them outright. It dishonored the Tribes and the Individual.


The other two, he couldn't give a damn about. They were worse than Jedi. They were politicians. The lowest and most vile form of scum he could imagine. He had a mind to Rend them where they stood and cover Volshe's beautiful gown with their innards. But he would stay his hand. He truly wanted to see this play out.


His hands stayed fixed when everyone shuffled for their sabers, palming unactivated Hilts. He was amused, if anything. This was turning into a regular holo-drama. One he would have no part of. Then he heard the screaming of engines. At first, it sounded faint. But it grew until it was like the roaring cry of his name-sake. And the power. He felt sheer, unadulterated power roiling from the ship like a wave of blistering heat.


"Hesper!"


"Shut up! I'm aware who it is! I know your opinion of the Butcher. But she's not alone."


"No. She isn't."


The last bit sounded foreboding. But when the party walked out, Krayt was far too enthralled to notice. He saw her first. And, though she was slight, he was impressed. Feros had been right. And then he was shocked. General Grievous?!? No. Kenobi had killed him on Utapau. Krayt had seen the holo. But this thing looked just like him! How?


He also saw a woman, or what had once been a woman. Now she looked more like a female contemporary of Darth Vader, right down to the ventilatior and emotionless mask. Interesting.


But the one that really got his attention was the one in chains. This one was something different. The man looked like a shadow, somehow made flesh and bone. Krayt couldn't put his finger on it, but this one gave him pause. But for Hesper to have put him in chains? Well, that spoke of her power, didn't it?


He watched the show play out more, and then chuckled as Hesper and Apollyon followed as Volshe's request, staying the execution. Well, that was it. He was finished here. He'd had his fill of the evening. This whole banquet had been an elegant joke. One he cared little to take any more part in. He turned and made his way back to the Hanger Bay. As he went, he called out in the Force.


"Wyyrlok, join me on the Maw as soon as possible. And any of the rest of you that are as insulted by the Federation Triumvirate being spared, including the Jedi Grand Master, as I am, you all know how to contact me. I look forward to speaking with you."

______________________________________



Feros knew he didn't have much time. And he knew the risk that this could be. But he had to take the chance. They hadn't been close by any means. But they were his only chance. He was closer to Feros than his own brother. And she was the last Sith that had seen Feros alive before he had been possessed. He had to let them know he lived. He gathered all his strength and called out through the Force.


"Hesper! Kain!"




TAGS: @Darth Dreadwar, @Arach, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @Drakul_Xarxes, @G.Kn, @Admiral Volshe, @Darth Kain, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Darth Nathemus, @Darth Xirr, @Darth Solus, @DarthNoxia, @Jihadi Quartz, @Voidwalker, @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @Reatith Blodraald, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Sedicious, @Helkosh, @Darth Xxys, @Metus, @Catalyst, @Nacros_Telcontare, @corinthia

 

[Kielor]

IC: Apprentice Kielor
Training Room, Sith Temple, Korriban

There are certain feelings which are unmistakable. For Kielor they seemed linked to one another, as though the influence of the force had led him on his path.

Hunger. Punishing, consuming hunger. Hunger which had haunted him as a youth. Hunger which had broken him on Nar Shaddaa; remade him. The feeling of being engaged in combat. Not combat so uncivilised as blaster fire, explosives or turbolasers, but intimate hand to hand combat; armed or otherwise. The laser focus one finds with a single opponent of adequate ability. Reading them, and then using your skill to subdue them. This was a feeling which he relished. His hunger which led him to combat; to fight for credits at Grakkus Arena. The thrill of the fight was perhaps enhanced by the need, and his lust for combat perhaps enhanced by the sustenance which resulted; the two were intrinsically linked back then, when he was not much more than a child.

It was his love for combat which had introduced him to the feeling which he was experiencing now. A touch from the darkside, to the core of his being. Nothing sinister, just an acknowledgment. A touch from his Master, The General, Reiis Invadator. She is coming, he thought, as the other apprentices began to exit the training room. He returns the thought, not knowing if his ability to commune with the force would be sufficient to reach her, but he would like to think that their connection is strong beyond his ability to wield the force.

His attention is caught by two of the apprentices, declaring their delusions of grandeur as they attempt to separate from the group. Apparently their presence simply must be had by someone “higher up”. Lol, he thinks, as he follows Master Xiannarr out and into the hallway; Overseer Marcus snapping at the heels of the self-important whelps. Good luck with that, he thinks, while part of him hopes to see them struck down by the Overseer. Lady Apollyon, regent to Emperor Dreadwar… and they think that someone higher up than her has an interest in them? Wake up to yourselves.

Not a half dozen steps down the hallway, a surge of darkside energy crashes into Kielor. She’s here. The presence of his master is unmistakable. Foreboding yet encouraging, dark yet strangely light; as a twilight after a storm. He hurriedly makes his way with Master Xiannarr and the other apprentices to collect their headwear and meet up with Darth Apollyon. Eager to see what is in store, and what is unfolding downstairs.

TAG: @Loharr Talem @skira @Zareel Jhenan´doka @Undying Master Xiannarr @Keres Dymos @Nacros_Telcontare @Darth Dreadwar @Reiis Invadator

 

[Reatith Blodraald]

IC: Reatith Blodraald

Location: Korriban courtyard

Just as quickly as the meeting began, it was cut short by a messenger from Lady Apollyon to join everyone outside for an execution. "Finally, some entertainment I can enjoy." He whispered excitedly to his little shoulder friend. "But don't get too distracted again, keep a keen eye on our surroundings, we don't want to miss anything."

Empress Volshe beckoned her allies that had joined her outside the Grand Hall, one of whom was Lord Solus. Wherever his Master went, Reatith would follow. Though to his surprise Lord Xxys had followed her as well. "Strange, not that I'm surprised that his loyalties would lie with the spouse of the late Emperor, but even after our.....interaction, I still feel like I do no know him at all."

From behind the young man he felt a familiar presence approaching. His back stiffened as his endlessly pain riddled nerves crawled under his skin, a powerful wave of anxiety washed the color from his face. No words were needed, Reatith followed his Master closely. Many great and powerful beings followed the Empress to observe the entertainment. For some reason, the attitude changed around him. Things seemed much more serious than before. The interrupted meeting wasn't just a private council, it was a war council, a plan for the bloodshed to come. If Reatith was among his peers, he would not have been afraid, he would have felt excited for the challenge. But he was no one's equal here, he would likely only be a minute inconvenience to the vast experience and power that surrounded him.

"When the blood starts to flow, watch my back, we will hide in the shadows and only strike when and where we are ordered to, or when the opportunity presents itself. "

Roshkas nodded in agreement as Reatith explained the severity of the situation under his breath.

Outside the Temple and the influence of the ysalamiri, each of them breathed deeply, some in relief, others with glee as the force returned to each of them. For Reatith, he didn't feel much of a difference, whither it was because of the constant excruciating nerve pain or because his skills with the Force were not nearly as honed as that of a Sith Lord, he did not know.

The voice of the Empress shocked him from his thoughts.

~~~

"She demands that the enemy be spared for her own devices??? What is this??? First the filthy Jedi are welcomed into our most sacred temple and now this???" He paused in silent shock as others around him mumbled similar sentiments under their breath.

Notably, Lord Kain powered up, once again causing the mark he had left on Reatiths forehead to burn. He turned again to Roshkas, "He stands in defense of his Empress, is there something else going on here?"

From his left, his Master growled to him, "Reatith... be ready"

His thoughts began to race, "Does Lord Solus agree with the Empress? Is there more to her than meets the eye? What have we gotten in to?"

Following the command from the Consulate of Carrion, he silently unhooked the sabers that were hidden up his sleeves, not allowing them to be seen just yet. Watching closely, he waited for his moment to dissappear under the cloak of the force. Just then, a ship blasted into the atmosphere straight towards the crowd and a figure leaped from the open bay door toward them, as they impacted Reatith took his chance in the cloud of dust and distraction to move to the left of his Master, slipping into the shadows of the force. He imagined his image blurring, his movements and footsteps becaming silent, and his unique imprint he left in the force diminished. Hopefully by the time he stepped around Lord Solus, he would have essentially disappeared.

He peered through the dust at the crowd around him watching for any threats when Roshkas poked his shoulder and beckoned him to look.

"It can't be...is that Lady Hesper, The Butcher of Coruscant?"

Though she was considerably smaller than most of the other Sith that stared at her, she eminated pure power and malevolence that was only matched by a few others, namely Lord Kain, Empress Viscretus and Emperor Dreadwar.

"What is this threat she speaks of? Is it a bluff to unite the Sith under one banner?" Though he tried to make sense of the events before his eyes, he was at a complete loss. "This is why I must be here, to record and learn."

The young Apprentice watched closely as the Empress, The Butcher and Lady Apollyon left together to possibly decide the fate of the galaxy for the next hundred years.


Abilities used:
Force Stealth - 1
Force Cloak - 2
Conceal Essence - 2


TAGS: @Darth Dreadwar, @Arach, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @Drakul_Xarxes, @G.Kn, @Admiral Volshe, @Darth Kain, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Darth Nathemus, @Darth Xirr, @Darth Solus, @DarthNoxia, @Jihadi Quartz, @Voidwalker, @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @Reatith Blodraald, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Sedicious, @DarthFeros, @Darth Xxys, @Metus, @Catalyst, @Nacros_Telcontare, @corinthia

Reatith Blodraald
​

 

[Darth Xxys]

(IC XXYS)
Feast/courtyard

Xxys noted several others in the crowd had made their way to the front and more than a few had their hands ready for war. It seemed the entire feast was about to devolve into a bloodbath with the Empress stopping the one thing that could at least quell the heat of the moment. Xxys had no need to flex or grip his weapons. As was his nature he had melted into the crowd but remained close to the principle players.

The blade that kills you is the one you never see coming.

His coms chirped in his ear and his second informed him that a ship had just entered the armada from hyperspace and a single dropship had deployed.

Xxys looked to the sky just in time to see the reported vessel entering the atmosphere at speed. The pilot must be insane he thought but then he then saw a smaller object fall from the drop ship.

It fell like a gossamer meteor. Black material of some type whipping around the falling....PERSON! Someone had jumped from the shuttle and was now plummeting directly for the temple grounds. Xxys could feel the Dark energies of the Force radiating off the midnight comet and he spotted where the new comer would land.
The impact was prodigious and a plume of sand and dust radiated from the impact zone obscuring the new arrival. As the dust settled a diminutive form rose from the cracked stone and a shock of anger radiated from the woman as a silken black veil fell behind her and crumpled into the dust.

Xxys recognized the new comer...who could not...the Butcher of Coruscant...Hesper!

The Lady Apollyon and the Empresses entrances had been good...hers was better.

Xxys had seen the holocron, indeed the entire galaxy had born witness to the Dark Ladys rampage through the Imperial Senate, and Xxys had applauded her use of naked force to once and for all silence the buricrates and embrace the true nature of the Universe...

The strong rule.
The weak serve.

Her resolve was something to envy.

Something to fear.

'Deceivers!' Her voice was filled with venom and her eyes blazed with malice.
'There is only one true threat to the Sith. And quarreling over the throne will get us nowhere.'
Her gaze encompassing all they stood on the dias

'I have seen what is to come. The end is near.'

Xxys had again begun to move through the mesmerized throngs as a large winged creature named Skyllan stepped from the crowd and immediately pledged its fealty to the just arrived Lady Hesper. Xxys used the distraction to step back and enveloped himself in a shadow cast by the temple. His presence shimmered a second within the shadow, then the darkness consumed him and it seemed to any that might have seen him step into the shadows that he had melted away into the very stone of the temple wall.

The assassin disappeared.

(Force powers used)
Force Cloak 4
Conceal Essence 4
Force Stealth 4


TAG: @Darth Sedicious @Darth Dreadwar @Volacius @Darth Nathemus @Darth Solus @DarthNoxia @Drakul_Xarxes @Reatith Blodraald @Voidwalker @Ānhrā Māhnîu @Helkosh @G.Kn @Darth Thana @Hadzuska_The Jester @Sith_Imperios @Cardun Vrek @DarthFeros @Darth Xxys @Admiral Volshe @Darth Xirr

 

[DarthNoxia]

IC: Darth Noxia

Location: Korriban, Sith Temple Coutyard

Horuset, the fiery disk of Korriban, had not yet set, nor the second course served before discord’s apple was tossed into the mix. A delightfully bitter treat, this is what the mischievous togruta had hoped to indulge in most at the feast.

Voidwalker had chosen to alleviate his own boredom by putting himself in the middle of things, and antagonizing the guards, but she herself continued to observe the hall quietly. The Empress Viscretus called forth a small group and addressed Apollyon before disappearing. Those she had summoned followed like goslings behind their golden mother. Had she been incensed by Darth Krayt’s provocations? The two had exchanged a series of sharp words from the looks of it, but she was unable to glean the entirety of the conversation through the echoing chatter of the hall.

“My deepest apologies, Lady Noxia. It seems there's something urgent that requires my presence. I will return as quickly as possible. Please, do forgive me." The voice of Lord Voidwalker came from somewhere beside her. She nodded and raised a brow as he stood and followed the rest of the gaggle out of the dining hall. “Interesting.” She said to herself, only half believing her own words.

The bejeweled togruta looked over to Darth Mirtis and Knight Metus, her Generals of Venom. “Enjoying yourselves?” she said with a smirk. They seemed to sit as quiet as she, taking in their surroundings. It was astute to silently observe, considering the options available, she thought. A third goblet had found its way to the table in front of her, set down by hands that were of no interest to her. The brandy, however, did interest her.

Her conversation was interrupted by the honeyed voice of Darth Apollyon, inviting those left around the table to join her out by the gates. There, the Federation leaders awaited their fate. There were already rifts taking place, choices being made, lines being drawn. Honestly, the Togruta didn’t see herself with any of them. Not yet at least. She had joined the Sith for herself and rose to power for herself. The Order had supplied her with what she needed to do so but it was a shattered Order with no clear ruler.



The last drops of brandy disappeared between the Togruta’s lips as the last of the Sith filed out into the courtyard. Noxia followed. The hot dry air assaulted her from the entrance before she had even gotten beyond the threshold. A large group had gathered and Viscretus and her supporters had joined them. There was a time she would have been in the front row, eagerly awaiting blood. This evening she hung back, almost envying those who would soon fall to the void of Chaos.


The voice of Viscretus resounded, claiming the throne for herself and demanding the lives of the Federation leaders. Well. That was a shame. However, there was no doubt that the speech from the matron would breed dissent and skirmishes, the children of discord, so perhaps all was not lost for the night’s entertainment.


Before the cacophony of conflict could break through the brief silence, A ship descended, and from it, a flaxen-haired Sith who could only be Darth Hesper. Noxia had heard of her legendary slaughter in the Senate. Now, the Butcher of Coruscant stood before them all, accusing the contenders of deceit and speaking of a “true threat” to the Sith. Noxia’s montrals twitched and she moved away from the wall, into the crowd.


More division among them as several seemingly pledged loyalty to Darth Hesper. The Togruta wanted to know more about this threat that loomed over them all. She had made her way to the front in time to see Hesper, Viscretus and Apollyon retreat from the group.

TAG: @Darth Sedicious @Darth Dreadwar@Volacius @Darth Nathemus @Darth Solus@DarthNoxia @Drakul_Xarxes @Reatith Blodraald@Voidwalker @Ānhrā Māhnîu @Helkosh @G.Kn@Darth Thana @Hadzuska_The Jester@Sith_Imperios @Cardun Vrek @DarthFeros@Darth Xxys @Admiral Volshe @Darth Xirr

 

[Xuul Zephyrot]

*GM Approved*

Shadow Apprentice Senec Tinople

Character Illustration:


Theme Music:

Name: Senec Tinople

Age: 67

Sex: Male

Species: Caamasi

Orientation: Straight

Homeworld: Caamas

Occupation: Archaeologist/Treasure Hunter

Height: 5’10”

Weight: 160 lbs

Physical Description: Senec is an aged Caamasi who makes no efforts to hide his years. Though his graying feathers hide his wrinkles, he is bent over from a combination of age and an unfortunate fall while exploring a Massassi temple. In many ways, he plays into the stereotype of the peaceful Caamasi, using it to his advantage to hide his cruel ways. However, slight physical tells betray his true Sithy nature: a twinkle in the eye of mischief and manipulation, a slight condescending clamp of the beak.

Clothing: Senec wears simple and spartan clothes, usually dark nature-colored or black tunics fastened by a simple utility belt, sometimes draped over with a dark cloak. On the rare occasion that he attends a more formal function, he has a couple dress tunics made with fine fabrics. Nonetheless, they are likewise minimalist and simply adorned.

Weapons: A lightsaber pike masquerading as his trusty cane. The cane is made out of smooth black metal, the gold head of a loth-wolf adorning the top. It is also woven with cortosis and can be used to block a lightsaber in a pinch. The lightsaber’s hidden emitter lies at the bottom of his cane; the top of the cane can also be separated from the pike to reveal a hidden Sith dagger.




Equipment: His datapad is hooked to his belt at all times, and he often carries a small pack with survival supplies while exploring or researching.

Vehicles: Dark Shadow, a Kazellis-class freighter. While not in the best condition due to the cost of maintenance and repair, it can still fly, hold cargo and a small crew, and has some onboard cannons.


Languages: Galactic Basic, Caamasi, can read some ancient Rakatan and Sith

Combat Skills: While only basically trained in his chosen form and able to basically handle a blaster, he is far more spry and agile than his aged appearance implies, capable of moving quickly both while using stealth and while in combat.

Other Strengths: He has a way with words, highly eloquent and quick-witted. He often uses this trait to his advantage in battle. He is also well-read and well-studied in the history of the galaxy and its ancient civilizations.

Flaws: Senec is arrogant when it comes to his own cleverness, viewing his intellect as being much superior to his peers. Not only does he think he’s smarter than others, but he also thinks he’s wittier, leading him to mouth off with snarkiness against those he dislikes or sees as inferior. He can also be very stubborn, refusing to admit his own mistakes or submit to his superiors, preferring instead to act boldly until it gets him into trouble, and only back down once he is in mortal danger.

Alignment: Neutral Evil

Personality: Senec’s personality is . . . complicated. Bipolar, even, though consciously so. On one hand, in everyday life, he is erudite, showing great respect to his superiors, a trifle long-winded perhaps, but only ever in the interest of entertaining others. However, whenever he is stirred by strong emotion - often pride, sometimes anger, even fear - he becomes insubordinate and churlish, filling his words with sarcasm and condescension, and directly confronting his opponents with calculated ways of taking them down.

Fears: He fears being underestimated by his opponent but still being beaten. On that note, he fears being outwitted and played for a fool. Most of all, however, as he grows ever older, he fears dying before realizing his potential as a Sith. Death itself is not so much his fear; he will not allow himself to even think about it. However, his many decades of living a normal life haunt him, leading him to fear having lived a wasted life.

Likes: the pursuit of knowledge (libraries, books, training), a hot cup of caf, being the smartest in the room, gardening, quips and puns

Dislikes: people who are both arrogant and incompetent, idiots, drinking cleaning fluid, heights (after falling from a great enough height that it should have killed him)

Habits: frequently tends to his plants when not on Sith business, regularly attends the cantina

Relationships/Love Interests: He hasn’t been in a relationship since university when he abused someone’s trust; he’s avoided relationships since.

Companions: EV-8D3 (nicknamed Evade) - an EV-series supervisor droid, reprogrammed after assisting in a plot against the Sith. He usually wields two laser cutters.
Solah Varah - a former Jedi Padawan who now follows Senec out of a toxic mix of guilt and camaraderie after he tricked her into killing her Master while they were working together for several months. She wields a single green lightsaber.

Friendships: Friendships are a difficult thing to define amongst the Sith. Senec feels respect and camaraderie for some of the apprentices he has met in the cantina (e.g. Karros, Terrogate, Zareel), although he is not sure that that qualifies as friendship. He has become more friendly with Varah, although he still frequently mocks and goads her in order to mold her into the dark side.

Master: Lord Vexx

Reputation: Senec rose with the alacrity of a rogue turbolift when he first joined the Empire, being quickly noticed and commended by many of its most powerful and influential members. His often dangerous lack of fear allowed him to interact with Sith Lords with ease, and although this sometimes ended with reprimands, other times, it left those Sith Lords impressed. His name has become synonymous with a quick wit and a silver tongue, and many of the Sith consider him an apprentice with very great potential.

Biography: Senec was born in Refuge City on Caamas in 90 ABY. The son of Caamasi scientists attempting to restore the planet to its former natural glory, he had a relatively peaceful childhood. His family could afford to send him to a private school. However, they were consumed with their work and neglectful to Senec and his brothers. As a result, he lived a lonely childhood, with few friends due to his already burgeoning abilities in manipulation, for which he felt guilt and estranged himself from most of his classmates. Senec only truly came out of his shell when, while walking the Caamas countryside one day, he came across a team of Galactic Alliance researchers who had uncovered the ruins of a Rakatan ship. Senec offered to act as their guide and quickly became their assistant, immediately becoming enraptured by the lost civilization and all its wonders.

Although the Jedi paid a visit to his school once, it was only for the purposes of showing a presentation to the entire assembly. Had they actually scanned the crowd of students for people with Force potential, they would surely have found Senec, and he might have found friendship, a way of controlling his powers, and understanding there. Instead, Senec was left alone to his own devices, never learning how not to misuse his powers.

Once he entered university, however, he resolved that things would be different. He embraced his powers of manipulation and charm, quickly becoming a beloved and popular rising star among the archaeological community. He continued to hunt for the ruins of lost civilizations through college and as his career truly began, learning all he could about the Rakatan Empire, the Taung, the Old Republic, and eventually the ancient Sith and Jedi, though his focus at the time was more on their history as galactic influencers, than as religions or ways of life.

When he was around 40 years old, he fell from a great height while exploring an ancient Massassi temple on Yavin IV. The fall should have killed him, but instincts that Senec didn’t know he had awakened to cushion his fall just enough that, though his back was permanently injured, he survived the fall. This made him realize that his powers extended beyond merely manipulation, and he became more and more curious about what else he could unlock within himself. After this, he began devoting more energy and research to the Sith and the Jedi.

Not long after this, he approached the Jedi on Ossus, wondering if they could help him to unlock his powers. However, the Jedi quickly turned him away, sensing that decades of unwittingly using the dark side could prove difficult to impossible to untrain. Bitter and discouraged, Senec abandoned any hope of discovering the secrets locked within himself and significantly decreased his research into these matters.

It is ironic, therefore, that his spiritual reawakening should have occurred a decade later on that same planet, Ossus. While on a dig at the Great Jedi Library, he stumbled across a damaged Sith holocron that, once unlocked, merely showed him the planet of Korriban and told him that the answers about himself that he sought lay there. Although he initially dismissed the holocron as mystic nonsense, still embittered by his rejection by the Jedi, he would eventually come to Korriban five years later to join an archeological conclave in the Valley of the Sith Lords. There, while exploring the ruins of Tulak Hord’s temple, he seemed to hear a voice urging him to go to Dromund Kaas to find the Sith and awaken his potential. Again, he scolded himself for his superstition and dismissed the voice as his imagination, though he could not help taking a vial of sand from the temple and carrying it with him as if hoping to capture that voice and learn more from it.

It would be yet another decade until he decided to go to Dromund Kaas, having heard increasing amounts of rumors about the growing power of the Sith. He traveled there circuitously, still paying visits to various planets to spend months reading and researching there. Finally, once he arrived on Dromund Kaas, he again spent months researching the Sith and reading about them before approaching the recruiters. They quickly sensed his potential, and from there he joined the Academy. Since then, as always, he has been on a continuous quest for new knowledge, finally learning how to unlock and master his powers. Did he not have such great potential, his life, one relatively lacking darkness and strife, might have barred him from entry amongst the Sith. However, because of this, he is all the more eager to prove his worth and demonstrate his potential as being even greater than those apprentices who have been born and raised in the dark.

STR (Strength): 7
FPR (Force Power): 7
DEX (Dexterity): 8
INT (Intellect): 9
CON (Constitution): 6
MAN (Manipulation): 9
PER (Perception): 7
DES (Destiny): 7

Rank/Level: Level 1 Apprentice

Base Class: Assassin

Skills (game mechanics only; listing all chosen Skills and Skill Points therein): Form I - 1
Form VI - 1
Force Cloak - 1
Force Resistance - 1
Telepathy - 1
Mind Trick - 1
Telekinesis - 1
Feed on Dark Side - 1

 

[Darth Dreadwar]

GM Update

IC: Darth Apollyon
Outside the Sith Temple, Korriban

​

The Force washed over her like a cool breeze. The banquet hall was stifling heat, smoke wafting from subterranean kitchens up through claustrophobic cloisters of stone, steam rising from roasts and plates of boiled food. Above the din of fine dining, smothered by the power of the Ysalamiri, the whisper of the dark side could scarcely be heard, the distant murmur of a man drowning in blood. Yet the deserts of northerly Korriban, although dry as Tatooine, were as cold as Hoth, and Darth Apollyon wrapped her dress around her lithe form as she made her way beneath the archway, suppressing a chill as the familiar power of the Force coursed through her once more.

No longer was she gasping for air, and her black-painted lips creased in a relieved smile.

Now, the icy power of Korriban flooded her lungs with each breath, and she stretched out with her feelings, tasting the Force around her. The pitiable despair of the prisoners, the thirst of the assembling crowd, the... fear.

Her smile faded to a frown.

Fear? From whom?

Her own.

No. Not her own, not quite, not... yet. A fear that was still to come, a sense of foreboding, like a dark cloud over the setting sun. It was a subtle thing, a quiet thing, like a whine just beyond the range of human hearing. But she could not mistake the signs, her hair raising on end from prickling flesh, her heart quickening in her chest without rational cause. The Force was warning her she was in danger.

Her frown deepened. Just what was Viscretus up to? Could their secret alliance have been a ploy, a scheme? Disappearing from the banquet hall only to order her ship to...

No, there was Viscretus now, exiting the temple even before Vua did. Others were trailing out with her. Apollyon cast her eyes about the landing, meeting the eyes of Darth Nix, glancing over at Darth Krayt. Neither shifted in unease, nor appeared to have planned attack. Shaking her head, Apollyon stifled her anxiety with a conscious application of will, and turned back towards the kneeling prisoners, opening her mouth to speak. Her hands were already rising in practiced gesture.

But Viscretus spoke first.

​

In the throne room, Nihl frowned, head turning to peer down to his left, crimson eyes staring off into the cracks between the tiles. Nathemus may have been talking, but he could not hear him; his attention was entirely elsewhere. His head suddenly snapped to the right, and his bone-white hand reached for Nathemus' arm, black nails digging into the carbuncled flesh. “I... I sense Empress Volshe is in danger.”

Well, this was going horribly wrong already. Apollyon had counted on the execution being the spectacle of the evening, the rallying point around which the Sith would unify.

She alone knew whether the prisoners kneeling upon the cruel stone were the true triumvirs of the crumbling Galactic Federation, or the decoys with which Marasiah Fel had protected herself and her government in imitation of her late father. Apollyon had claimed in the morning's propaganda broadcast that the not-so-dearly departed Darth Insipid had not only repeated Darth Krayt's incompetence in slaying a double—referring to the Dragon Lord's failed attempt at assassinating Roan Fel thirty years prior—but in his arrogance had not even seen through the ruse.

Nonetheless, despite the demands of Darth Nix, Apollyon had provided no genetic evidence that those killed by Insipid and his forces had been the doubles, and her prisoners the real deal. She knew it did not matter; the appearance of victory was what the Sith needed, what the Sith desired.

Or so she had thought. Apparently, Empress Volshe had different ideas. Worse, the last claimant chose that moment to finally arrive with her retinue. Oh, what a prat, landing on the sands like she thought she was Shiraya. Oh, the butcher of Coruscant, what a splendorous nickname! Apollyon was sick of hearing it. Dreadwar's other apprentice had served the former Emperor a few weeks at most. Hesper thought she was so perfect, but while she'd been cleaving her way through defenseless old men, Apollyon had been fighting true enemies in the Golg. She had nearly died, and if it weren't for the shard of Graush's crystalline heart within her lightsaber, she surely would have!

True to the rumours Maladi had related regarding the strange Sith that had reemerged on Bosthirda, Hesper offered little more than mystery and mysticism, some dire prophecy of doom and woe. Oh, was Insipid going to reemerge from whichever mission into the unknowns had taken him from his ill-gotten throne? Was Hesper the saviour to which everyone must conveniently bow? It was sickening, the obviousness of the power play.

Apollyon had no intention of being alone in a room with the other apprentice, nor was she about to let Viscretus' bizarre inclinations towards mercy derail her perfectly scheduled evening, so she was quick to shoot Viscretus' suggestion of private talks down. “There is no need to delay and tarry,” she said, eyes widening meaningfully as she looked straight at Volshe, hoping her oldest friend would understand she was not helping their plan for her ascension. “These are my prisoners,” she continued, eyes flitting to Krayt as he turned to leave, before returning her gaze to the prisoners ahead, “and for the sake of unifying the Order before the evening is concluded, I believe it is important that we...”

Darth Apollyon blinked.

She blinked again.

And again.

A colossal black pyramid hung suspended in the sky.

Apollyon's mouth limply parted, capacity for speech robbed mid-sentence, eyes transfixed by the impossible shape. One second the skies of Korriban had been a spotless painting of blood and sand, the next it was there, an apparition mightier than a crack of thunder, the physics-defying silhouette of a vast triangle abruptly blotting out the sun-kissed moons like a midair mountain. It hung there without visible signs of propulsion or hyperdrive, resembling no monument or starcraft that mortal eyes had ever seen, a gargantuan monolith of sharply hewn sides that had instantaneously asserted its phantasmagoric reality upon Korriban as if daring the dumbstruck witnesses to dismiss it as hallucination.

The Force was screaming.

“What… what is that?” she pointed to the sky above and behind the perilously distant Hesper and the new arrivals, voice quivering in abject, irrational terror. It was hard to even strain those words from her mouth; her entire body had tensed as if turned to a pillar of stone by the eye of some glowering god, and her mind was aflame with strange thoughts: the sudden desire to fling herself prostrate upon the desert before that impossible pyramid like the temple prostitutes of blissfully-forgotten prehistory, to sing praises unto Ninûshodojinyaut and babble profanely in incomprehensible tongues, to open herself before the heavens in loathsome mockery of those ancient witches before the star temples of Apothem...

The appearance of a second jarred her from the clutching fingers of insanity. Then there were three. Five. Ten.

A thousand.

TAGs: @Admiral Volshe @Darth Kain @Darth Nathemus @Darth Xirr @Darth Solus @DarthNoxia @Drakul_Xarxes @Jihadi Quartz @Helkosh @G.Kn @Reatith Blodraald @Darth Thana @Sith_Imperios @Cardun Vrek @DarthFeros @Darth Xxys @Volacius, @Metus, @Catalyst, @corinthia, @Reiis Invadator, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Arach

OOC: Level 26 I-Ron attempts Telepathy on all present. His Attack Roll is 11 + Attack Modifier of 13 + Attack Modifier of 5, surpassing the Difficulty Classes of only Reatith and Metus. I-Ron's Effect Roll is 5 + 3 + 3 + Effect Modifier of 1, for a total of 12. Reatith lacks mental shielding and his current thoughts and emotions may be thoroughly read. Metus' Defense Roll is 3 + Defense Modifier of -1, blunting I-Ron's telepathy to 10; his current thoughts and emotions may be thoroughly read.

Xxys, Catalyst, for future reference, be sure to await dice results for usage of stealth (or similar) powers, but the outcomes (self-failure and dropping the stealth, respectively) have already been approved via PM for this round. Mavros, Thana, you are both using the Sith spell (two turns to cast) Qazoi Kyantuska, not Mind Trick, so no dice rolls for you yet; you must choose to continue sustaining the attempt this round, and utter the spell aloud, to cast the spell and trigger the dice rolls (or you may abandon the effort halfway through).

Solus' current power usage requires no dice rolls until they are interacted with by PCs or NPCs. Xarxes' was pre-approved for success as no dice rolls are required.

Blodraald, for future reference, your attempted usage of three stealth powers at once is too much; player characters should usually attempt no more than one or two powers per round, particularly if of lower level. We will perform a basic d20 with usual modifiers against a DC of 10 to determine success of each. For Force Stealth, you rolled an 8 + 5, and succeeded; the Effect Roll is 5, so your footsteps are quieter, but otherwise you remain quite audible. For Force Cloak, you rolled a 4 + 5, and failed. For Conceal Essence, you rolled a 16 + 5, and succeeded; the Effect Roll is 2 + 3 for a total of 5, so your signature in the Force is reduced but not concealed.

IC: Ermir Marcus
Leaving the training room, Sith Temple, Korriban​

"Ah," Ermir Marcus smiled, deceptively mild. "Business elsewhere!" He slapped his hand to his forehead, as if knowing exactly what Sol Kira was referring to, and embarrassed by his lapse in memory. "Of course! Of course." That same hand ran across a hairline that was only beginning to recede, before waving in dismissal, the sides of his lips quirking. "Go on, then. Yes, yes, run down the stairs, be quick about it!" His voice raised after the retreating pair of students. "We will wait for you there!"

He would kill them, of course. He was already racing through his favourite methods of what he called discipline by proxy—by proxy, as the deaths of recalcitrant students were powerful teaching tools to the onlookers. The instant they came down to the point Apollyon had specified, oh yes. Would it be more amusing to run them through with a lightsaber, or let the other, more obedient apprentices kill them with their bare hands? After all, Apollyon had specified no weapons... and Sith torture masks were notorious for suppressing one's connection to the Force. Oh yes, Kira and Talem would surely die this day.

Run along, little birds. Turn your backs on Ermir Marcus.

He watched them go, a gleam of something thirstier than lust flashing in his eyes, and then he signalled to the remaining students to follow. "Come."

The stairway he descended was not the same one down which Sol and Loharr had scurried, and he soon lost sight of them. Training rooms, primitive stone lifts, and more stairs. Flickering torches and sparks hissing into hallways from clashing lightsabers. Then came the banquet hall itself, and Ermir kept to the left side, far from the windows, indicating Keres, Nacros, Kielor and Zareel to follow single-file behind him. Much to their relief no doubt, the banquet hall was emptying in the direction of the temple entrance, and the throng of a crowd filled the grand archway while serving droids cleared plates and prepared dessert.

Ermir ducked into a passageway on his left, descending three short stairs and weaving around two Sith who appeared to be carrying an oversized holocron between them. He paid them a brief glance, and continued on his way, wondering why they hadn't simply placed it on a droid's service cart.

At last, they were in the dungeons, and Ermir smiled as he breathed in the familiar scent—acrid, like burnt cabbage, mingled with something fouler still. His promotion to quartermaster had seen his once-frequent appearances in the subterranean alchemy classrooms slow to a trickle, but overseeing the armoury was a fortuitous addition in responsibility, for it was located directly beside his old potions room. After all, blades needed their poisons.

A lazy wave of his hand opened the creaky wooden door, and he stood off to the side, waving the students into the small, stooped stone room beyond. "The torture masks are there on the far wall," he said, pointing to the dull metal rack where a dozen metal masks, resembling solid bronze cages with tiny pinpricks haphazardly poked in the top for sight, hung beside large, heavy keys. "The masks open and lock with the keys; make sure yours are sealed tight around your head, then throw the keys with your lightsabers in that drawer." He pointed to the scratched wooden desk next to the rack of lightsaber pikes.

He turned and placed one foot against the stone wall of the passageway, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a cigarra, offering a second to Master Xiannar. He lit his own with a spark of lightning and breathed, resting his head for a moment. He was just about to close his eyes when a strange shadow passed over the corridor. No, not a shadow; the torches burnt bright. It was the Force itself that was darkening in danger.

Ermir frowned, considering poking his head back into the armoury and asking the students if they felt anything amiss, before thinking better of it; assuming they were following his instructions, they wouldn't be able to sense anything at all. Shrugging, Ermir took another drag on his cigarra. No doubt the Sith upstairs were causing trouble.

In the passageway he had left them, the holocron in the hands of Voidwalker and Hadzuska activated with a hum. It was a primitive design; no advanced artificial intelligence was housed within its crystalline matrices, nor a shard of its creator's spirit. There was nothing magical about it, merely a touch-activated holographic chronicle, left by the long-dead woman whose brown-haired visage flickered into being between the two Sith.

"Lord Malak tells me they were seeking a greater threat, Lord Revan and he," the prim, proper voice of Bastila Shan rang out in the hallway without preamble, drawing the glares of attentive students in the classrooms on either side. "He said they had encountered a vanguard... Strange crimson sorcerers on Tund, a foul force led by an insane Emperor on Dromund Kaas, an academy on Malachor V that hungered like a living thing, that hungered like the Star Forge hungers. He said they all served a lord, a lord before whom kings and emperors bow."

The hologram wavered, and Bastila's voice briefly warped to a guttural depth. "He said the Star Forge is the legacy of the Builders, but if these... primitive amphibians were the Builders, who were its Architects?"

TAGs: @skira , @Loharr Talem, @Undying Master Xiannarr , @Keres Dymos , @Nacros_Telcontare , @Kielor , @Zareel Jhenan´doka , @Darth Dreadwar, @Voidwalker, @Hadzuska_The Jester

OOC: Level 30 Xiannar attempts Aura of Unease and Telepathy on Level 30 Ermir Marcus. Aura of Unease Attack Roll is 3 + Attack Modifier of 15 + Attack Modifier of 5, for a total of 23. This fails to overcome Ermir Marcus' Difficulty Class of 30, and has no effect. Telepathy Attack Roll is 4 + Attack Modifier of 15 + Attack Modifier of 5, for a total of 22. This fails to overcome Ermir Marcus' Difficulty Class of 30, and Xiannar fails to read any surface thoughts.

IC: No one
Space above Korriban​

In the darkness of space above holy Korriban, a lone TIE Reaper made its way through the assembled fleet, weaving between behemothic titans of dead metal to stab out amongst the stars, its occupants bringing the small ship into position for lightspeed jump. The fleet guarding the planet they departed was a veritable blockade, the pointed prows of Star Destroyers and Battlecruisers angled towards the interstellar void with all their bristling guns, an impenetrable fortress of lurking death. No enemy departing hyperspace could possibly get past.

How fortunate, then, that the TIE Reaper was not departing hyperspace, but preparing to jump into that space between spaces, a day's journey ahead. Dromund Kaas awaited, like a dark dream.

Unnoticed behind the TIE/rp’s twin plumes of ionised exhaust, the flotilla guarding Korriban began to turn as one, enormous hulls rotating with awful slowness towards the surface of the planet, as if a thousand klaxons had sounded across a thousand bridges, alerting panicked commanders to impossible comm/scan contacts.

The deck of the TIE/rp lurched, as Lords Ānhrā and Sedicious enacted their escape from the banquet's tedium. The twinkling pinpricks of the beckoning stars skidded into elongated streaks... and then the hyperdrive whined in protest, and the stars snapped back into precise points. The expected whorl of cerulean vapour, the galaxy as seen from lightspeed, did not materialise beyond the viewport. They had lurched but a short distance from Korriban, just beyond its seventh moon. Something was wrong.

TAGs: @Ānhrā Māhnîu @Darth Sedicious

IC: Teraktassi
Bestiary of the Wrath of Vader, hyperspace ​

“Soon, indeed, my Lord Cruor,” Teraktassi intoned, releasing Draa'zekyl's chains with a deft swipe of three clawed fingers at a wall-mounted console. The dark chamber filled with crimson light, oscillating in alarm, as klaxons sounded throughout the bowels of the warship. Proximity alarms.

Teraktassi's canine mask turned towards the distant bulkhead, before the demonic crystal chips that served as the helm's eyes swivelled towards Cruor, glittering in hellish reflection. “We arrive momentarily, great one,” he said. “Your mount stands ready for its rider, and when we are above the city, we will deploy. I will join you on the surface.”

As Draa'zekyl shifted, a seam in the deck was revealed, running beneath its vast bulk. Not a haphazard crack torn in the crumbling wreckage of the ghost ship, but a zig-zag faultline running the length of the bestiary, from one bulkhead to the other. It was as if the deck were two great continents of metal, and in the groundquake of Lord Cruor's coming, the seam would open into a chasm, releasing rider and beast unto the stars.

Teraktassi and the strange, metallic creatures were withdrawing, backpedalling towards the exit, hands hovering over control levers on either side.

“I beg to remind my lord,” Teraktassi continued, glancing down at the deck as if to assure himself he had withdrawn far enough, “that our great lord Nihl has issued strict orders of battle. We are not to engage the Jidai until the shadow slayers have completed their mission within, and signal the destruction of the shield generators from atop the central tower. You, and all the Shadow Council, are to convene beyond the enemy's encampment while the death legions assemble, laying siege until the Lord of the Thirteen comes forth.” Teraktassi bowed. “Let justice be done upon the enemy, and may the Dark favour your greatness in our hour of triumph.”

TAG: @Darth Cruor

IC: Commander Threntel
Trenches, Desrini District, Coruscant​

The rocket screeched in protest, and Threntel looked up in amazement at the dark shape hovering above the trench. The RPS-6 rocket was pushing against an invisible wall like a squealing landspeeder stuck in mud, jetissoning a trail of jet-black smoke and a spray of chemical propellants. "Yah!" Threntel shouted, an inarticulate sound of fear as he threw himself backwards. The rocket exploded—but not before hurling itself skyward with abrupt alacrity. Permacrete dust scattered around them like dark snow, as a new hole was torn in the side of a starscraper above, punctuated by the sound of shattering transparisteel. Not a single soldier was hurt.

Not one of theirs, anyway.

Distant explosions pierced the air, as Omegon plied the magical machinations of mechu deru against the enemy. The Jedi had long considered the ancient Sith art as a foul invocation of the dark side, for the imposition of one's will upon machinery was rarely used for righteousness. Omegon proved the old sages' point, a cruel chuckle emanating from his helmeted head in a hiss of static as he exacted the Sith's vengeance upon the soldier who had dared fire upon them. The shoulder-mounted missile launcher had fired its only discharge, but the flak grenade the soldier now reached for presented a perfect target, and it exploded in his hand with a whisper of Omegon's will. Four others fell with him, their own munitions turning against them.

Into the fiery furnace, the demon Shadowsun erupted from the duracrete rubble like a gout of magma from the bowels of Mustafar, golden skin reflecting the last rays of Coruscant's waning sun as he opened his maw in an unnerving bellow. Threntel's audio-sensors sputtered in a sudden roar of static, and he desperately clasped his hands to the sides of his helmet once more. The Federation soldiers were not so lucky.

Blood trickled from between their fingers as they held their hands fast to their ears, and their eyes rolled back, as if attempting the impossible feat of peering at the blood vessels bursting within their skull. Hemorrhaging, agonised groans inaudible over their deafness, three soldiers fell dead. But the Jedi Padawan, standing three meters from the lip of Dorrian's tunnel with emerald lightsaber in hand, stood tall and proud. He brought his free hand to one ear, wiping away a thin trickle of blood, and smiled. That same hand lurched forward with fingers splayed, and the air rippled in a burst of power, a sudden rupturing sound accompanying the telekinetic wave heading towards Dorrian.

Threntel could barely see the combat in the smog, only the shadows of two Sith Stormtroopers emerging from Shadowsun's tunnel behind the Maelibus, but he knew the three would be overwhelmed by the Federation forces in seconds if he did not heed Omegon's suggestion. Twenty meters, twenty meters to close the gap between the trenches, while the Federation soldiers turned their blaster fire towards the distraction. The odds were against them, but there was no other choice. Threntel rose to a standing position, hand raising to give the order to charge, when a dark shadow fell over the battlefriend, and a voice called out. "REINFORCEMENTS!"

Threntel spun, following his second's pointing finger, and laughed aloud. Some hundred meters on the opposite side of the Sith trench, furthest from the Federation forces, a wall of speeder bikes was racing across the upper city deck, plumes of permacrete kicked up by their repulsorlifts. In the speeder park of a ruined shopping centre, the shuttle whence they had emerged was just folding its wings. A dozen more crouched towards the impromptu landing platform like descending birds of prey, trailing from the bowels of the colossal warship hovering in the stratosphere above.

The Sovereign-class Super Star Destroyer Vapid, former flagship of the vanished Darth Insipid, had come to Coruscant. Wind whipping at his black robes, Darth Deleritas led the speeder bike charge, while Senec Tinople, assigned the gunner's seat of a Multi-Altitude Assault Transport due to his frailty, swooped in from above. The cavalry was here!

Threntel turned around, the wind at his back, the might of the Sith behind him. The black-and-silver teeth of a Stormtrooper's helm remained locked in a seeming frown, but behind his visor, his grin was wider than the rings of Coruscant. His fist flew forward. "CHAAARGE!"

TAG: @Kint Dranlor, @Oberleutnant Deleritas, @Senec Tinople, @Rayge, @Dorrian Shadowsun

OOC: I have set the Difficulty Class of the incoming rocket at 10 and will be treating Rayge's telekinetic manouevre as an attack. Rayge's Telekinesis Attack Roll is 5 + Attack Modifier of 10 + Attack Bonus of 2 for a total of 17. As the rocket will explode anyway, there is no need for a Damage Roll and the rocket is successfully hurled away. Pythonus' aid proved unnecessary so no Attack Roll is needed.

Omegon has attacked multiple (arbitrated as five) Level 1 Federation soldiers with Mechu Deru. His Attack Roll is 19 + Attack Modifier of 13 + Attack Modifier of 5 for a total of 37. This surpasses the soldiers' Difficulty Class of 10. The Damage Roll for this attack is 4 + 6 + 2 + Damage Modifier of 3 for a total of 15, and for ease, will be used for each soldier. The soldiers have no defense against Mechu Deru and their 10 HP is depleted.

Dorrian has attacked multiple (arbitrated as three) Level 1 Federation soldiers and a Level 20 Jedi Padawan with Force Bellow. His Attack Roll is 17 + Attack Modifier of 10 + Attack Bonus of 2 for a total of 29. This surpasses the enemies' Difficulty Classes of 10 and 20, respectively. The Damage Roll for this attack is 5 + 6 + 2 for a total of 13, and will be used for each enemy. The soldiers have no defense against Force Bellow and their 10 HP is depleted. However, the Jedi Padawan is using Force Defense with 3 Skill Points. The Defense Roll is 3 + 6 + 3 for a total of 12, and the Jedi Padawan's HP is depleted from 20 to 19. The Padawan's retaliatory attack will be processed next round, depending on Dorrian's response.

 

[Darth Traya]

IC: Aurelia Chume/ Darth Traya

Location: Fountain Palace, Hapes


Aurelia noted the way Necro Solaar drank in the decor; gilded, polished, gleaming, embossed, crystalline, and ivory trappings that formed the Fountain palace. Even her communications room held all the trappings of a palace. Aurelia never truly felt within her element in such luxury. The barren caves, and functional fur and animal hide furniture of Dathomir were more her style. In one room Aurelia even had completely gutted and scoured baren just to lay Dathomirian soil on the ground and transform it into a place where the hardiest of vines still took root and Aurelia could sleep as she had on Dathomir. On a pallet of feathered down and animal fur blankets. A haven she could trace runes in the dirt and chant spells that granted her the briefest flashes of possible futures.


Aurelia also noted a faint change in Necro Solaar’s muted aura as his eyes fixated around the glorious trappings she could not see. She couldn’t discern if he was impressed or merely lusting as to how he might be able to raze the palace to the ground. Unable to read the slight change, she only assumed it was born of envy. This palace, the heartland of the Consortium might be visually beautiful yet that was not what Aurelia saw. She sensed the glory of this society... A society primed for war and conflict. Their gleaming palaces and crystalline Fountains, the gleaming armor, and superior technology were the spoils of war and conquest. It was as if Nightsisters in flowing gowns and song steel chest plates lived within the Hapan women. And the men could not be underestimated as well, just as Nightbrothers could make fearsome Sith, she knew the men possessed the same brutality.


For a moment her thoughts turned to the rapid heartbeat fluttering in her womb. Would the child live long enough to see this silent splendor it might inherit? Would it sense the power of Hapes with eyes or with the untamed sight of the Force?


“How do you feel about the name Gwyn? Or Gwynerve if you're a girl, little one? For your sake, it would be best if you presented as a girl.” Aurelia mused to herself in thought but the child was little more than a lump of growing cells. It couldn’t possibly understand the importance and pressures of gender.


Aurelia entered the communications room, but an elegantly accented voice snapped her to attention. “I beseech you, divine Queen Mother, do not enter.”


She sensed the stranger , Necro Solaar, stepped back, the sort of tensed movement she expected from an assassin, yet that was only a speculation she possessed regarding the stranger.


Aurelia winced at the unnecessary need for the word “divine”. Such a title was common courtesy among the Hapans, yet it was a word each one spat out in bitter spite. Aurelia might present herself as a fierce Goddess in keeping with Hapan custom, yet Traya embraced her lack of divinity.


In rare moments of privacy Traya loved shuffling down these halls in the serpentine legs she preferred. Relished in baring the scarred, inflamed ruins of her eye sockets, and sauntering with her shriveled body as it truly was, with her gizka hopping about her tendrils, a creature so detested among these arrogant people.


Aurelia pulled her focus into the aura of Ducha Goledriel, a high guardian who possessed a hypnotic golden aura, a trait many Hapans possessed to some degree; yet it was a malevolent gold, a heat shimmer as merciless as the light of Hapes. However, the natural haughty infliction most Hapans possess dropped when Goledirel spoke again. “ This message is dangerous, my Chume, and I cannot explain why. It... You cannot see it. You cannot hear it. I... I feared it to be some trick, some trick of this vile agent,” an accusing finger wafted generally in the direction of Solaar, “for its contents seem impossible in every aspect, yet... Yet I think now of the guns of command with which we enthrall our male prisoners, and perhaps it is not so fanciful.”



Aurelia’s mouth twitched, her rose-tinted lips curling into a disproving sneer. Perhaps it was wiser to trust Necro Solaar, she has little doubt what was about to fall from Goledriel’s lips were elegantly framed deceptions meant to lead her into a trap. All the same, she allowed Golerdiel to keep speaking.


“I think of the sorceries I hear in hushed whispers that you have taught a privileged few, the cursed objets d'art and occult books the other nobles swear by, and while I had assumed you were a witch, spreading the primitive shamanism of our sixty-fourth world,” she referred to distant Dathomir, brought into the Hapes Consortium by the century-past marriage of Teneniel Djo to Prince Isolder that had birthed the last dynasty and paved Aurelia Chume's path to power, “I suppose it is not so impossible that you are Sith.”


Aurelia’s painted lip curled upward in disdain. If it was one of malice, or of amusement, she gave no further sign to Goledriel.


Golerdiel’s tone echoed fear in having spoken the word… “I do not mean to pry into powers beyond my means... but if you play this message, I fear it will be the destruction of the Consortium. We have had our differences, my Chume, but you have bound the nobility to you more skillfully than any Queen Mother since Ta'a Chume, and brought peace and stability to Hapes. Where you go, Hapes goes... and I fear if I allow you access, we will all go to our doom.”


Aurelia’s voice responded like an icy wind, perhaps she and Necros felt the cold aura that lingered subconsciously about Traya’s form.



“Goledriel, perhaps you could enlighten me as to why you’ve been prying in my affairs? In the Divine Queen Mother's affairs? Can you convince me why I should not christen that lovely new guillotine outside with your blood?” Aurelia glared, knowing well how to orient her face to the optical illusion of staring one down, and the panic they often felt upon finding nothing but a gleaming helm with imposing sharpened spikes to further remove any human element.


Aurelia then sighed heavily. “But mayhap you overstepped your authority out of fear for the future of Hapes. Unacceptable, yet not unreliable. On Dathomir, the magicks are not categorized into a binary. Not in my clan at least. There was simply power and those who were too frightened to wield it to its full potential. That is what I am, a witch in her purest form.

Is there a more fitting manifestation of an ideal woman? Goledriel, my life began prying whuffa worms from the dirt, stinging yew bows with rancor gut, chiseling obsidian into arrowheads, all to defend my Sisters. Now Hapes is my clan, you're all my Sisters and if that message contains something so profound you believe it threatens the very Consortium…then I should know of this threat. Are the women of the Consitstoum incapable of facing a threat? You best pray the parade clamoring outside is more than just a display to impress me.”


Her softly innocent voice carried a strange cadence of contempt “Our people pride themselves on their strength and cunning, if there is an imminent danger then we must defend. It might be that danger could strike despite your efforts to hide it for me
or your posturing here will delay precautionary action. If the very Consortium were to fracture, would you still be Hapan? If you lost every coil of your hair, the shimmersilk was burned from your back, and the rainbow gems cast into lava…would you still be a Hapan? Be it prosperity or despair; I am the one who shall see our people though.” replied Aurelia, her helm never breaking its disturbing gaze.


Outside the room a measured beat of familiar footsteps slowly quelled her annoyance, and a muted midnight aura stepped within the vast range of her Force Sight; her vision encompassed her at 360 degree angle, even walls were near-transparent with enough focus.

The footsteps belonged to one of her guards. It belonged to her husband. However, by his own design, he would not look like a male. With but a few simple alterations to his song steel armor and wardrobe, Dhe Ta’ Dlav looked as fair and graceful as any Hapan woman. Despite his common birth, and detestable genetic imperfections he still possessed the sharp, refined and graceful features of the most aesthetically pleasing Hapans. Nigh translucent pale skin, a thin and straight nose, piercingly grey eyes, and stark blond hair flowing freely to his waist, beaded with intricate jewels and faintly glowing rainbow gems. Under the armor, he wore flowing silver and lilac robes of silk, as well a cascading grey cloak. Intricate broaches, necklaces, and earrings both lend him a more feminine disguise, and marked him as a high-ranking member of the Queen's guard. Only the dark wide-brimmed hat perched atop the guard's head would have seemed a curious deviation of style, yet it to was decorated with such jeweled flamboyance it might just trigger a new trend of fashion.

Dhe even carried himself with the haughty confidence of a woman, not a smudge of imperfection graced his dark painted lips, nor his kohl rimmed eyes. Few knew Aurelia Chume had married, those that did sneered in disgust regarding the rumor he was a former Lorell raider, and even worse, a commoner. None knew his face.


Her only true Hapan attachment was approaching slowly, close enough to see her if she was threatened, yet unlikely to hear the message that lured her attention.


In the communications chamber, a mottled green and brown gizka sniffed, pawed and chirped at the various electronics, searching for snacks.


“Well Goledriel….what do you have to say for yourself?” Aurelia pressed in her fair to innocent, yet dangerously icy tone.


Powers Used:


Cold Aura : 1 (Used more for dramatic effect, but wanted to list, just in case.)

Tag: @Darth Dreadwar

 

[Admiral Volshe]

IC: Empress Volshe
The Courtyard, Korriban

No.

Volshe’s eyes widened as the thought ricocheted through her, shaking her to her core. The ships appeared, one by one, two by two, then hundreds. Perhaps thousands. They appeared as roiling clouds of malevolence. A storm of terror on the horizon, seemingly inescapable. The pyramids she had seen not once, not twice, but more.

They were instantly recognizable. They were countless.

They were here. The fleets she had watched, wide-eyed, as she escaped the Nihil Retreat. Those that had decimated the Triumphant. They were here.

It was every nightmare that had gripped her for the past year. The realization of that sickening dread, of knowing what was to come, but never when.

And now, they were in the sky, in seconds. She had not even a moment to breathe.

The True Sith.

Her heart thumped in her throat, wind raking through her hair as the crowd fell into an eerie silence. She swallowed. She was submerged briefly in deep, frigid water, her limbs frozen in place. No sound met her ears, even if someone would have spoken.

Before her mind resurfaced, before she had registered what was truly happening, her lightsaber was in her palm.

“SITH,” she called. Her voice rose above the crowd, above the scream of danger in the Force, above her heart pounding in her ears. The neuranium of her ‘saber seared into her hands, sweat already beginning to prick at her soft palm. “Hear me now if you wish to live. There is great danger. These ships...they are impossibly fast, impossibly powerful. They are death incarnate. They are beyond our greatest enemy. You cannot overcome them. You cannot join them, nor trust them. We must leave, now. It is our only chance.”

She paused, though not willingly. Her breath had escaped her. A desolate memory gripped her - violent and vile - enough she nearly vomited. The voice of Venomis in her ear, as it once has been. She near recoiled, collapsed into the frigid sands. She regained her resolve, surfacing through the oppressive darkness, and recalled the power to her voice. Her distress was certainly palpable. She allowed it to be. Perhaps it would aid even the least intelligent in making a wise decision.

“Mavros, Solus, gather as many younglings as you can manage. Bring them to the hangars. My council, and Lords of the Empire, you will go the same to the hangars and await me there.”

She paused, scanning over the crowd. Her heart slowed, her breath flooding from her painted lips. Concern creased her features. More than concern: distress. She attempted to mask it, smothering the thought of what exactly was incoming. It was almost futile. Icy waves of obsidian ichor threatened to drown her, crashing into her with relentless intent.

Briefly, they were not pyramids in the sky, but eyes of oily black and sickly green, shimmering, slick, and opening to stare upon her. Tendrils spilled from them, the mountains shifting into cragged teeth, the horizon slithering into a gaping maw that gestated them. The blinked, hard, and blinked again, the ships returning to their geometric appearance and the sky returning to its streaks of blood red. Her heart ached, bile rising in her throat.

She could not prevent the violent, vile imagery that invaded her mind. Fire in the sands, screams of death, the end of existence.

Her, in chains. Oily, inky abominations surrounded her in the prison crafted by her mind’s eye. That was certainly what they desired. Her breath hitched again as she leveled her golden gaze back on the gathered Sith. There was no time for fear, only decisive action. Their very survival depended on it. She could not fight insanity as it came for her. She would simply have to face every single vision, every single fear, as they manifested before them.

“The choice is yours, now. Follow my instruction. Your allegiances no longer matter. Trust in me...or die.”

There was no more time. Their choices would be made. Death, chaos, she could not change their minds. Their fate was their own.

But she...she chose life.

For a moment, she contemplated saving herself alone. There was the briefest temptation, though it nearly overpowered her. But it was not what was right.

She may have been a Sith. She may have been crowned with dark mantle, and she may have practiced the Force in the depths of its nadir. But she would not allow her people to die. She would not allow the Galaxy to die. Not without her every effort to save them.

To be a Sith was power. To be unchained.

She would not be chained by fear.

Her hand rose, decision to escape lingering on a knife’s edge. Her children were in the Throne room, Nihl with them. Her golden hair thrashed in the wind, her eyes lingering on the prisoners. She snuffed the Force from her fingertips.

The decision was made, in instant as quick as the blade of a guillotine.

Before the crowd of could respond, she was sprinting across the sands, her lightsaber igniting in her hand. The Imperial Knights broke from their stare, focussed on the sky, and pursued her. Their ‘sabers ignited the same. Brilliant silver. A sigh of hope in the sudden endless chaos.

“Majesty,” one of them warned, the group following her. She ignored him. Her decision had been made. She would not allow her own people to die, and she would not leave the Federation leaders to die. Not like this. She could leave no-one to face the oncoming storm.

“Move, now!” She yelled ahead to the Sith guards, teeth briefly bared as she lunged towards the prisoners. The guards were distracted - staring at the sky. She took advantage of the moment of confusion. Her blade swept down in fluid motion to slice away their alusteel bonds, her other hand grabbing for the arm of Marasiah Fel and aiming to pull her to her feet. She offered her second lightsaber to the woman, anger roiling about her in the Force.

Her next instruction was called across the sand. “Lord Kain, assist me with Stazi and Master K’Kruhk. You,” she barked at the Sith jailor nearest her. “Give the Jedi your ‘saber.” Her voice lowered to the growl of a nexu, her lip curled in a snarl. Her eyes were fire, endless inferno. Her blade rose in threat of the executioners and his cohorts. Lightning arced across the violet, the plasma hissing and shuddering. “They come with us. Question me...and die sooner than the rest.”

//Remain where you are, Dei, Prim,// she intoned through the Force, the words flooding through the bond they shared. //There is danger. Stay with Lord Nihl. I am coming.//

Her muscles tensed as her daughter spotted her. Her eyes met Cordé’s, from across the courtyard. Dust swirled between their locked gaze, the power between them undeniable. Time seemed to slow, everything falling away.

//Go tell your father that they have come, and that I will join him in the throne room. Now.//

The message was carried through the winds that churned around them - as if the Valley itself grew restless with the sudden chaos. Cordé bolted inside.

Only one thing remained - a warning to all in the Caldera. She deactivated her lightsaber and reached out with her comm - and the Force - sending a message to all who could receive it. From the Moff Council, again, both Anstares and Killran, to the ships in orbit.

“Enact protocol zeta-krill-four-three-seven.”

It was a contingency. She had not expected a thousand ships, not even a hundred, but she had expected that at any moment they would have descended on her. The fleets would be expecting an evacuation now, and expecting to ensure her safety. They would fight, but not for any victory. For her survival.

Volshe’s eyes shut, briefly. She steeled herself and lurched back the sands, pulling the hood from the Empress’ head beside her. Her hand tightened around Sia’s bicep. It was unintentionally powerful, her thighs tight and hissing with the electric current of fear that fizzling at the edge of all her neurons, threatening to overtake her. She had to centre herself, focus herself on the task at hand.

There was death in her mind, in her eyes. The dying of stars, a golden inferno that tore through the Galaxy. She willed herself to replace it with life. Her children. Those she loved. There was only one thing that mattered.

Survival. The survival of the Triumvirate. The survival of the Sith. Of her family.

Of the Galaxy.

She exhaled, breath whistling as the wind did around her, and began to run towards the doors.

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