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

dragonsith13

Emissary of Death
Moderator
Immortalis
Draconis
Temple Dungeon~


The converging malevolence of the arrivals continued to close in, a tidal wave of force crashing down to wipe the remaining Sith, now fleeing in fear, completely out of existence. With an impending doom that simply in his view seemed to be all but inevitable. Yet they continued to fight it. Flee. Seeking an escape. Those that continued to flee were too caught up in their own fear to see anything but the panicked and frantic futile nature of fighting what was clearly happening. The spiral stairwell, seen as their savior, only served to simply place them upon a precipice between two worlds. As the red sands above and the very bowels of this ancient world, blended for one brief moment. He had left the cyborg to be as the being seemed to commit to holding his ground in response to a call from the being that was Krayt to marshall a defense near the end of the dungeon. Very noble of them. Hesper with an ignited red saber in hand, calling out to Talon making mention of their intent to flee using the tunnels. Draconis sense that her resolve was focused and intent on playing such out. Her precognition and sight no doubt sensing a way out as it was clear what was driving her to push everyone forward. Draconis had sensed it as well, a potential passage way down below. He could sense the fear below as the fleeing Sith were log jammed into trying to escape in desperation, it was palpable.

The groans of the savagery above were audible and continued to grow as it pursued those fleeing. It was only replaced by the sudden low drummed boom that resonated through the very stone that made up the temple. A second equally resonating boom was felt as it traveled through one’s bones. The impacts were no doubt from high above, dislodging a large amount of debris in the form of larger stones suddenly broken free from the construction of the dungeon, dust, smaller fragmented debris was sprayed like fragment projectiles. Draconis raised his hand to disperse the larger elements that posed a threat to him, though a number of smaller projectiles peppered him with debris. Attempting to minimize any damage as much as possible. Time was growing short, whatever had caused the temple itself to shake down to its very foundations in the manner it had could easily be the beginning of the cascading collapse of the entire temple down upon them.

Cries of fear as those and even anger emanating. As one of the Sith present Darth Wryylok daughter to the Sith of the same title, whom Draconis recognized as further signs that many of Krayt’s cult were among them, the woman exclaiming that the leading of them down to this place has been to summon them to their own destruction. She was not wrong. Either by the hand above or hand below, most of them if not all of them would perish.

Further confirmation found his ears as whispers from the fleeing Sith of a shadowed wraith added to the fever pitch of fear. A potential sighting spreading like wildfire among them, the idea of a single being came to mind. Dreadwar. Draconis had already felt Cruor’s presence, it was unmistakable given their often shared past. And given the amount of control and prowess necessary to mount what was happening above, there were most definitely several beings of such ilk holding the reigns of the horrors above.

However, while the fleeing masses fled one horror, the hell above, he could sense their inability to grasp or realize where they were actually themselves. Fear gripped them too tightly for any of them to see. The hell below. One that was equally if not more horrific in nature and was a world unto itself. They were all marching into a realm that was undisturbed, dark recesses that were unimaginable. They would be better served turning around and accepting their fate, marching back up into the dark masses of the devouring horde. Korriban, was and had always been the jewel of darkness and they were all heading right into the heart of it. A place where even the horrific shyracks and tuk’ata did not dare lurk. The ability to navigate the stairwell was severely hindered as it was clogged with the fleeing masses … still Draconis sought to move swiftly through the crowd. Having made the decision to move downward via the spiral stairway.

Down they went.

Underdelve~

As he drew closer to the bottom, Draconis sighted Hesper once again.

Draconis emerged from the stairwell pushing past the throngs of Sith. One panicked descent gave way to another panicked environment. Arriving just in time to see one of the focal characters disappear, Draconis' eyes narrowed as he calculated what the individual had performed. But to what purpose and design? Volshe - the proclaimed, was near what could only be described as a portal attempting to further marshall Sith in defenseThey all continued to resist, fight it. The passage he had sensed was near, as he noted the direction in which it was. The entrance of it, obscured by the very logjam that Draconis had sensed. From the hypergate emerged a trio of wraith like slayers that moved against several of the gathered Sith. Draconis moved to distance himself from the crowd that was trying to pack through the passageway, seeking out a portion of this vast vault that seemed unexplored and was thus unattended to. Draconis reached out with his senses, seeking to illuminate through his mind what was hidden in this area.

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

Telekenisis (on debris from collapse)
Force sense (continuing to guide towards what he had seen as the passage out and the unexplored portion of the underdelve)
Dark side healing (counter any damage from debris)
Breath control (mitigate dust and debris)
 

Xarxes

Sith Imperator
Sith Emperor
Moderator
Final Triumvirate
Dark Council
Immortalis
IC: Darth Drakul Xarxes
Korriban, The Tunnels of Muur



The first thing Xarxes noticed as his eyes turned the corner to see the batlike creatures was their apathy and lack of aggression. In fact, they seemed as if they wanted to get out of the Sith’s way, so no sooner had his telekinetic grip tightened around them than he released them, letting Xiannarr swing for the now-freed and fleeing creatures.

The second item of note was the pile of corpses, disfigured by millennia of rot and decay. Their three-clawed hands and feet nearly went unnoticed, only being captured by the ever-watching, surveying Mqaaq’it the Nightfather contained entrapped in his own skull. Their putrid scent was ignored by the behemoth, having smelled far worse odours across his lifetime. Age aside, the disgusting nature of the ancient cadavers did not have too much gore going for it compared to Xarxes’s own experience.

The details were quickly shuffled into the archives of the Dread Lord’s staggering mind palace, his head turning in a snap as he heard the voice of I-Ron’s companion. Karin spoke softly, clearly uncertain of what she was conveying, but the Nightfather was focusing on the shifting of Karin’s fingers as he loosely caught hold of her words, the secret, unspoken tongue being known by exceedingly few. Had his helm been removed, she would have seen his eyes widen at her ability to use it.

Very well. That could be done.

He nodded to her, not wasting the time to speak, and was about to turn back to the task at hand when a new arrival caught his eyes: Darth Hesper, her golden radiance shining through the passage. The presence of the Priestess, that emerald passerine of the heavens, filled him with great hope against all odds, though whether this was a consequence of her esoteric power, he could not tell.

Darth Hesper, I see you’ve made it down here,” the Dread Lord grunted, turning once more towards the passageways. He placed a hand on the ancient stone, sensing the weathering and darkness enveloping this place. He had been in the tunnels before, when he was just a lowly acolyte, to be tested in the ways of the Force, but had never delved this deep, nor felt this overwhelming hatred. Fueled by the fury aboveground, the darkness permeated deeper than before. He could feel it.
His mind flashed to seconds before, the moment in which he had watched Darth Kain vanish into thin air. The gears of his intellect turned, assembling the predictions of the next few minutes. The Force did not aid him here, only what was granted by nature, and he saw a terrifyingly hopeful visage before his eyes, a miasmic revelation of what could very well happen in the next few seconds. There was no time for error, no time to dwell on the possible death looming over all present here, if the inferno of rage preparing to hurtle to the Sith’s planet was indeed to strike.

His Eye had failed him at least once. He could not afford that again. The voice of Darth Catalyst knocked on his mind. He would answer shortly. For now, he needed absolute focus on what lay hundreds of meters ahead.

Darth Hesper,” he growled, extending a hand towards the ominous carmine light, “my Eye requires your guidance. If you should be so merciful, grant me your blessing.

Without further mutterings, he focused on the distant vermillion sliver, the one reminiscent of his vision, to see precisely what it may be. With Eyes both physical and unseen, he called upon their power to grant him clear sight, the vision of the Tenth Eye leering into the magnificence of truth.

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

Powers Used
-Farsight 3 (To see the red passage of light and what lies beyond)
-Mqaaq'it (for the same purpose)
 
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IC: Reatith Blodraald
Location: Underdelve


His emotions began to overwhelm him. Every bit of hope peeled away from his psyche causing his sanity to hemorrhage.

"There is no hope. We are all going to die....... Death....death......death.....death........death......"

His mutterings filled the staircase all the way to the bottom. Even as people rushed past him and explosions rattled him, throwing his body against the wall, debris and stone flew past him bruising him and drawing blood, he was deaf to all of it, lost in the haze as his ears rang and his vision slowly closed in.

Then, the moment his feet left the last step of the staircase it stopped..... Sound blasted back into his skull and he stumnled back, shaking his head as the last ten minutes came rushing back into his consciousness. Darth Nathemus, Voidwalker, Hesper, Hadzuska, Noxia, Krayt/Feros, Xxys, Arach, Catalyst, Solus and more!!!! They all worked together, sacrificing and fighting side by side! Most especially Lord Kain and Volshe stood before him directing everyone in tandem as The Dark Messiah gave a speech and stepped into the void to sacrifice himself for all of them.

Tears welled up in his eyes, for what reason he didn't know. They streaked down his face behind his mask smearing blood and dust across his cheeks. This is where he belonged and he would do what he fight with them with everything he had. Turning around he saw the group of children. He rushed over to them and said,

"Huddle together behind us! We will protect you."

With that said, he stood between Lord Zyxx and the children as they crouched, huddled closely together. The Apprentice spread his arms wide, igniting his sabers, using his body and whatever skills he had to protect them from anything that made it past. This is where he would make a stand, next to his fellow Sith, even if it killed him.

Powers Used:
Tutaminis - 1
Force Resistance - 2 (Passive)
Feed on Dark Side - 1 (Passive)

~~~

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

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Kielor

Active member
💀 A CRUORITE COMBO 💀
Featuring Apprentice Kielor, General Reiis Invadator, and Grievance Vexx


IC: General Reiis Invadator, Grievance Vexx & Apprentice Kielor
Location: Dungeon Corridor, Korriban Temple


Vexx is irritated. Really irritated. The crowded passageway and the clamoring, whimpering, and hyperventilating of so many panicking Sith is starting to grate on his nerves. He needs to get away from the pressing bodies and the suffocating sense of fear that radiates from them. Fortunately, he is in possession of the rare ability to go where no one else can just to get some elbow room.

After getting pelted with falling stone, he has had quite enough of this nonsense. Growling irritably, he shoves his way toward the nearest wall and digs his claws into its ancient stone surface, finding enough purchase to scale the wall spider-like and attach himself to the ceiling; a place to rest above and out of reach of the clamoring crowd. Though it is upside down, his view is much clearer from up here as his natural ability to see in spite of the dim light reveals some recognizable characters.

Arach and Hesper. He can see them plainly enough and is grateful they are still alive. Very few below him have any true sense of focus, save for Feros and Invadator. They are all desperately panicked. But then the yellow eyes of the Kaleesh notice one who does not seem to be absorbed by the frantic emotions around him. A human man. He seems to be looking for someone and too intent on finding that someone to be distracted by the cacophony around him.

The crush of so many individuals presses against Kielor. The panic is palpable. The sense of impending doom is cold upon his shoulders, and yet he is calm in his pragmatism. There are few options, and scrambling for vague alternatives will not bear fruit. So he continues to move with the throng toward the entry to the stair below, pushing and jostling against him as he weaves his way through the pack, close behind Darth Hesper. He continues to scan the crowd, seeking the stoic countenance of General Invadator, glancing back periodically to monitor the hulking cybernetic form of Lord Vexx; who unexpectedly opts to take the high ground, and scuttles up the shear wall to take up position in the rafters of the dungeon passageway.

“Lord Vexx! Have you seen my Master? Where is The General?”

Vexx would have focused on Kielor anyway, even if he hadn't called out to him asking where Invadator is. The fact that someone else is level-headed in the midst of this mess is reassuring to him; quells his mounting temper, to be sure.

"Over here," he replies, motioning and then pointing out the General's position as she shoves her way through the crowd below.

Being short had some distinct disadvantages.

Unlike somebody, Reiis Invadator was unable to scurry up a wall and escape the throng, and in the absence of the option to Force-Push them all aside, she was left with two alternatives: be squooshed or do the squooshing. Very well. Those who violated her already-violated sense of space were summarily shoved to the side, and not gently either. With great effort, this enabled her to make her own little circle, though not nearly wide enough. She was more frustrated by the Sith around her than the invasion at this point, muttering curses under her breath about who knows what. And due to a natural height disadvantage, she hadn't seen her apprentice approach.

A familiar voice caught her attention in the crowd, though in the din of panic and death, she could not hear what was said. The General had to sacrifice a fair degree of personal space to concentrate on her senses for a sufficiently long time to sense Kielor's whereabouts, but she knew he was close.

"KIELOR," her voice boomed, perhaps unexpectedly loud for someone not augmenting it with the Force. A body ran into her, causing her to stumble to the side, but she pushed it away and stood on another (dead) body so she could have a better look into the crowds.

Kielor’s head snapped around, locking on to the voice. Through the swarm of denizens, the familiar helm of General Invadator bobs to the surface.

“Master!” he calls back, as he shuffles toward her, inching ever closer to the entry to the stairway which leads to the depths below. The feeling of dread is heavy upon him, but he is bolstered to finally rejoin with his Master, and even more so that Vexx is here as well; two powerful Sith Lords on your side is always better than one. He allows the Darkside to feed upon the feeling of unease; it invigorates him and pushes him forward. The Tuk’ata at his side clearly able to sense his resolve, as she pads along at his side, snarling as she shoves at those in her way, jabbing with her tusked maw to weave her way through the cluster of panicked flesh and bad manners.

Normally he would kneel before the General, upon making an address; however such was not an option given the current circumstance and distinct lack of personal space. Instead he would bow his head, sweeping the rabble nearby to her away with his armored left arm as he entered her immediate area. He knew that this was not a time for talk, it was a time to move.

A large piece of stone masonry slams to the floor, almost mashing a well built apprentice who had been standing with Hesper into a pulp of meat and bloody bone fragments. Rivulets of dust stream from above, preceding showers of pebbles, as the structure of the ceiling above begins to lose its integrity. The crowd surges forward and Kielor and Invadator are thrust toward the hearth of their immediate salvation. Tackling the cursed stairs with deft agility as they rapidly make their way to the fetid surface of the cavern below.

A quaking in the ceiling draws Vexx's attention as he skitters along above Kielor and Invadator. Hairline cracks begin to form in the stone his sharp claws and talons cling to and they grow ever wider as the structure continues on the slippery slope to utter collapse. So much for elbow room. He will have no choice but to get back to ground level pretty soon and he will have no qualms with stepping on those foolish enough to get in his way at this point. He has had a gutful of the chaos.

"Keep going," he coughs as the accumulating dust in the chamber rises and irritates his respirator, "I will catch up as soon as I have a clear path to the floor."

Not really. He is going to keep the high upside down ground as long as he can until they are free of this pressing crowd. Squinting through the haze of choking limestone dust, he narrows his focus on what lies ahead, skittering at a rapid pace with the crumbling cracks ever widening behind him. Finally, as he gets ahead of the desperately surging crowd, he veers off the ceiling and continues his spider-like journey sideways along the upper part of the wall, eventually coming down to right himself into a two-legged stance on the ground once again. The runes in his armor glow eerily in the dust-laden darkness, a crimson beacon that will hopefully serve to reunite him with Draconis, Invadator, and her apprentice Kielor.


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

Darth Thana

Active member
IC Darth Thana
Location: Tunnels


Thana had poured in the growing negative emotions that had lurked in the air around them as she heard deep grumbling roars. She opened her Obsidian colored eyes to view three massively built golems of pure fire around her. Seeing a mass amount of children led down the stairs, the Zabrak turned her attention elsewhere. Catching the subtle view from nearby that of Lady Apollyon as she turned and what seemed like a nod in her direction.

The flame witch was pleased with what the force allowed her to create here. Seeing Mirtis more clearly now with the light from her minions when six unknown figures strolled into the tunnels. They did not appear to be part of the Sith group she had recognized, seeing three approach certain dark side user. One of them being Mirtis as he took what looked like defensive stance with his shield covering his front.

The flame witch spoke out commanding her golems to protect her from any attacks. Her eyes darted to the ground under the enemies as she attempted to slow her breathing to focus. She would call upon the dark side to aid her, her hands extended as she called upon spiked vines from the spirit realm to violently burst through the floor. If it was meant to be her vines would wrap around and skewer the legs of as many of the robed figures as she could. She would attempt to will them to drag the figures into the ground below or hold them in place. She wanted desperately to feed her dark side if her attack worked so that she would happily allow her sessile plant sprinkle their warm blood upon the ground below. Thana was craving some carnivorous bloodlust as she had just spent such time running for her life.

Surge of the Brier -2

Tags: @Darth Dreadwar @Arach, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @Admiral Volshe, @Darth Kain, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Darth Nathemus, @Darth Solus, @DarthNoxia, @Jihadi Quartz, @Voidwalker, @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @Reatith Blodraald, @Drakul_Xarxes @Sith_Imperios, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Sedicious, @Helkosh, @Darth Xxys, @Metus, @Catalyst, @DarthFeros , @Nacros_Telcontare
 
Darth Mirtis
Location: Underdelve

Darth Mirtis stared upon the flames which Darth Thana breathed life into, the red tint mixing with his purple reptilian eyes. It lit the area around, allowing Mirtis to scan the area, this time a little more clearer. He felt a familiar consciousness poke at his and he accepted that which was Noxia’s thoughts. It was brief, but it confirmed it seemed she lost him sometime during their run after Darth Hesper’s group. He closed off his mind, not wanting to leave it open to any surprise mental attacks. He enjoyed the warmth from the nearby animated flames, and though he wished he could rest, he grabbed his weapon and waited for one of two things; an order or enemy to kill.

As if the force decided to grant that, enemies came forth. Shadow Slayers came to end them, one of them raising its hand toward Mirtis’ direction. He growled at the sight of an unfamiliar foe and attempted to raise his force resistance while placing his shield in front of him. He did not want to endure whatever came next and prepared to dodge roll right for any incoming projectile. It was all he could do in order to gain some insight into what his enemy is capable of.

Powers attempted:
Mental Shield-4
Force Resistance-4

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

Omegon

Well-known member
IC: Dread Knight Omegon

Location: Entering Axum’s lower atmosphere onboard the Aximand



Pistons whined and fuel lines hissed as Omegon stepped into the hangar, the sight of the readied shuttle greeting his eyes. Neat organized ranks of men, equipped in the mixture of plate and scale armor that was typical among Omegon’s troops, moved into position inside the shuttle. Their armor was black, signifying them as elites rather than the jade blue of the standard soldiers, and they bore the three headed serpent on their shoulders, as well as various other markings denoting specializations and ranks.

Teracotus spoke from behind him, and Omegon was glad to hear a questioning tone. Indeed, Omegon had no need for yes men, and almost enjoyed discussing his plans with officers. One could not learn without accepting wisdom and guidance from others, no matter the source. “It will most certainly be a dangerous excursion, Captain. But then, that is why I have made plans to counteract these dangers. I want a bombardment on the surrounding area to be carried out as we descend, turning everything within half a kilometer to glass. Leave the Countess and the other survivors untouched, but vaporize any of these brass soldiers you see. I don’t know if they can operate artillery or anti air weaponry, but in case they can, I want you to jam their scanning systems and deploy countermeasures, both electronic and smoke. Once we leave, a wing of fighters can escort us, running interference and targeting any threats that cannot be handled by turbolaser and concussive warhead. I can commandeer one of these starships if the shuttle is damaged, or one of the several prepared tractor beams can haul me in. Or, I can rendezvous in low orbit using this.” As he spoke, Omegon opened a panel on the wall. From inside, he withdrew one of several jetpacks purpose built to lift armored individuals skyward. Mag-locking it to his back, he turned to the captain.

“If we run into trouble on the ground, we always have Rayge and Shadowsun. That’s what they are there for, after all. And if push comes to shove, I always have these.” His fingers tapped on the hilt of ignis and the grip of sunfury. “I am never defenseless, my friend. Do you wish to accompany us to the surface? I hope you plan on arming yourself; I would advise some kind of kinetic or explosive weapon, to push back and slow down the brass soldiers if blasters cannot kill them.”

Stepping inside the ship, he glanced back, hoping Rayge and Shadowsun had followed, and hoping that the others had arrived as well, and perhaps heard the plan? “I don’t know where the blazes my fellow Sith are, captain, but I don’t like it. Send a crew member to their quarters once this is over with, and perhaps install a tracer pack in their clothing. I can’t be losing track of my allies every five minutes.”

With that, he strapped himself into the craft, and brought up the scanning results on his transmitter so he could see what the surface looked like. An abandoned wasteland, with three small dots of life signifying their target. And, strange energy emissions from what appeared to be the moving metal soldiers of Axum all across the city. Could nothing go right? All he wanted was a place to regroup and prepare, but apparently that would have to wait until they got away from Axum and found some other world to land upon.



TAGs: @Darth Dreadwar, @Tobbi Airskipper, @Darth Kratos, @Senec Tinople, @Dorrian Shadowsun, @Rayge, @Oberleutnant Deleritas




IC: Pythonus

Location: The forges within the Aximand’s middle decks



The hammer crashed down, and Pythonus shielded his eyes from the sparks with a minor thought, using telekinesis to keep the fragments of metal out of his eyes. He struck down again, flattening the cut piece of metal into a small diamond shaped scale. It was his 66th so far, and yet he still had so many to complete. Each was a work of art and effort, having been forged, polished, and marked with a Sith Cilie rune of protection written in his own blood before being set aside for the next scale to be started.

The hammer struck down again, and then he set it aside. Taking the scale to the svolten rhyolite grind wheel, he meticulously ground down each side to a sharpened edge, capable of carving through flesh. It shone like a mirror reflecting a star as he polished the scale, anointing it in oil before dousing it in the vat of Jedi blood. Finally, as the last step, he scratched the rune into the surface and filled the indentation with his own blood, drawn from a prick on his hand.

Bundling these scales together, he carried them to where his pauldron sat, waiting for each one of them. The pauldron too, had to be reworked, and so he set about completing it. Removing the electronic powered components, he lifted the frame of the pauldron and dropped it into the furnace. Along with it, he poured a few drops from a vial taken from his shelf; the tears of the innocent, taken from them before they were slaughtered in his hometown on Dolla. The fires seemed to flare as they devoured the metal and tears, melting it into a cherry red glowing mass. Omegon chanted, then, taking his words from the ancient Sith Tomes and scrolls he had learned from. Most of what he knew had been learned from the teachings of Sorzus Syn, and he recited what he knew from memory as he worked, inhaling the steam and fumes and focusing his mind on the darkness that lay within.



Tag: @Darth Dreadwar
 
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Zareel Jhenan´doka

Well-known member
IC: Zareel Jhenan'doka
Location: Underdelve, Sith Temple, Korriban

Anxious, at least that had been the first word that came to her mind as she tried to justify her sweating hands. She was anxious, not scared, perhaps a little overwhelmed. More and more siths were arriving every second, looking for shelter there; at the same time, for someone who could point an accurate way out of what appeared to be potentially a very old and very luxurious mass grave.

Zareel shook her head and silently scolded herself. "It won't be that... at least not for everyone." She sighed and shook her head again, pushing away thoughts that were too negative; the situation was bad enough on its own to aggravate it in her head.

There were orders being directed in all directions; to defend and protect those who were supposed to be more powerful than everyone else, to secure the entrance, to protect the ones arriving. The door they still manipulated seemed unwilling to respond; if you stopped worrying for a second about the dangers lurking, you could note them, trying to make not so evident that they didn't know what to do with it yet.

Zareel closed her eyes, too much information, too much noise; it wasn't even about the fear that had been haunting her head since very early in the morning. Her senses were simply overstressed, and she needed to start shutting them down, only then would her disordered mind be clear enough for her to be useful.

After adjusting her hearing, she thought she heard of a few vermin that might fly out. She did not fear their danger, but of how much nuisance they might be; many were trying to concentrate on saving those who had not yet reached their position yet. Those who stepped into the Muur-shaped gate did not seem to be returning too soon; still, she tensed her antennae and stood guard with both ignited tonfa near the side of the gate closest to the hypergate.

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

Helkosh

Active member
IC: Darth Pravum
Location: Tunnels beneath the Sith Temple

“Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.” - Friedrich Nietzsche


There was no passion, only power. As cold as ice, yet as bright and painful as the heat of a thousand suns. A pool of emptiness, yet filled with burning acid. Pravum slumped on the shoulders of his golem, wooziness almost causing him to fall to the floor.

“What the kriff was that?”, he asked his junk steed, who shrugged its metal and wood amalgam arms. It was true, the golem did not know what the kriff that was, as the golem was entirely unaware of what the kriff its master had done.

“Well, I’m certainly not trying that again.”, he said with a weak chuckle. Despite the fading disorientation, Pravum took a small comfort in the fact that his wounds had been successfully healed through his manipulations of midichlorians, pain no longer shooting from his abdomen. Looking over the crowd, Pravum noticed that some dark beings with eye sockets that seemed to contain no eyes at all were now pouring from the darkened doorway Volshe had been fiddling with. Their form was utterly horrifying, and yet, perhaps due to his recent brush with one of the only things in the galaxy more horrifying, Pravum found them fascinating. He was reasonably certain of his immediate safety, given that the thirty or so golems surrounding him would more than likely be able to push back anything that dared attack him.

The golems responded to his will before he’d had even the time to put it into a discrete thought, and they moved as one large cluster toward the doorway, keeping a comfortable distance from the monsters. He pictured their bodies in his mind, every inch, every crevice.

Dark energy poured from his hands as he began to mold even more warriors to fight for him, inspired by the form of these shadowy slayers. The image began to alter in his mind, muscles growing, limbs extending, until it was now a hulking, monstrous version of the shadow slayers, as if someone had crossed their DNA with that of the fabled sea monsters of Naboo.

“Rise, dark knights of death and destruction. Rise, so that you may fight for me.”, he said aloud in a humming tone like he were chanting in a ritualistic trance.

Powers used: Create Force Wraith (4)

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

skira

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Final Triumvirate
Dark Council
“Sadly enough, the most painful goodbyes are the ones that are left unsaid and never explained.”​

IC: Vorra and Jak Kira
Iziz, Onderon 138 ABY


“You’re right. I can’t stay here,” Vorra said, beginning to cry. Jak rushed across the room to her, embracing her.

“I can’t lose you,” He said, holding her firmly against his chest.

“You won’t. I’ll go into hiding and you can visit me, my love. I will go find Esta to make sure he is alright, and settle down somewhere in the Outer Rim, away from…” She trailed off, both of them knowing what, or rather who, they were referring to.

“Solisius will know you left, what am I supposed to say to her?” He asked, tears forming in his eyes. This was, after all, his worst heartbreak.

“I will cast an illusion while she sleeps, she will think it actually happened. She knows we were fighting, I’ll make it so that it got out of hand and I died,” She said, and Jak looked down at her, appalled.

“She will spend her life thinking I murdered you!’ He shouted, and she shook her head up and down.

“She won’t believe anything else, she is far too smart. And I am not powerful enough to do anything else,” Vorra said, and Jak nodded, releasing her. They spent the next few hours packing her things, essentially erasing her existence from the palace. Once they figured out what transport she’d be taking, she went to Sol’s room, casting her illusion.

A few hours later, Sol’s mother had vanished, and Sol awoke in a panic.

“Mommy, no!” She shouted, realizing it must had been a dream. She looked around her room, and her door slowly opened, revealing her father. He was drunk and had clearly been crying, and held a whip in his hands.


IC: Sol Kira and Keres Dymos
Tunnels, Korriban


Sol stood in a daze, her hand gripped to Keres’ to keep her steady. Her eyes were fixed on the doorway, as if she was unable to look away from it. A thought echoed through her mind, one that had hurt her more than she had thought it could.

“Come back,” She whispered, barely audible. Why had everyone left her?

She felt like puking, like curling up in the corner and allowing the army upstairs to kill her, like that would be an easier ending than whatever would come after this.

But she wanted to live.

“My eyes were blue before,” She spoke in barely a whisper, slowly breaking her concentration on the stairway and looking to Keres. She blinked a few times, her vision coming back into focus and her other senses returning to her completely.

“I’ll tell you about it later.”

Keres nodded, filing that away so she could press her fellow Apprentice later. Instead, her gaze stayed on the gate, where some things had just come through. And one was looking directly at them.

“Be alert. One of those things has its eyes on us,” Keres ordered crisply, but quietly.

“Do you have your saber?” Sol asked, grabbing her own from her waist holster.

“Yes,” Keres said, pulling hers from her own holster. “Though you’re the better fighter between the two of us. Take point on it, I’ll guard your side.” If Kira even needed her help. Keres was perhaps a little stronger than she’d been before, but she was hardly a stunning asset in battle.

“Let us kill these abominations then, my friend.”

IC: Zoradon
Climbing the Stairway

“Come back,” Sol’s voice whispered in his mind. He wondered, for a moment, how exactly she did that. The mark on her cheek. He planned to ignore it, and continued to climb the stairs.

But…

Something made him slow, stopping and floating in the air. What was this? Emotion? He gagged at the thought. Had being bonded to this little human changed him that much? Had their connection been stronger than what he had intended? He sighed, knowing what he had to do.

“Damn humans,” He whispered as he flew back down the steps, ignoring the collapsing stones around him. Yes, he would go back. He would return to her. She was more important to him than this damned Sith Order, and he would not die defending them.

TAGS: @Darth Dreadwar , @corinthia , @Catalyst , @Drakul_Xarxes , @Volacius , @Undying Master Xiannarr , @Jihadi Quartz , @Arach , @dragonsith13 , @Grievance Vexx , @Reiis Invadator , @DarthFeros , @Darth Thana , @Sith_Imperios , @DarthNoxia , @Nacros_Telcontare , @Kielor , @Darth Nathemus , @Darth Solus , @Cardun Vrek , @Darth Xxys , @Reatith Blodraald , @Darth Kain , @Voidwalker , @Hadzuska_The Jester , @Keres Dymos , @Helkosh
 
IC: Nacros Telcontare
Location: Korriban

Nacros stood for a few moments, at a defensive position near Hesper, watching the events take place. He was standing at the ready for whatever may come. Hesper briefly acknowledged his presence and turned to head further into the dungeon, and down the stairs. He knew it would be craziness to not follow immediately, but he couldn't leave just yet. If there was any chance he could help Lord Nathemus, he wanted to be there. Suddenly Lord Nathemus let loose a wave of dark energy so great the whole tunnel around them quivered. Such an awesome display of power was impressive in and of itself, but to make it even more so, his attack seemed to strike the enemy exactly as it was meant to. The enemies at the other end of the tunnel approaching them seemed to falter and weaken significantly. Suddenly one of the enemies appeared in front of Nathemus with much speed. The creature was massive, and though Nacros wanted to jump up and help defend his Master, he knew he would be of no help in this circumstance. He wished his Master the best in his mind, and turned to run as fast he could down the stairs further into the dungeon. The walls and ceiling were falling apart all around him, and he did his best to dodge any larger pieces that might have caused any significant damages. Between the pure adrenaline now racing through his body and his willing of the force to allow his legs to move faster, he could only hope he would make it down intime before the whole dungeon collapsed around him. In the back of his mind, he also hoped Lord Nathemus would make it in time as well. As powerful as the Sith might be, a dungeon collapsing on top of you is no small thing to escape. Running as fast he could, the seconds passing would feel like minutes avoiding the falling rocks and debris, the steps he took feeling like miles, he hoped the dungeon would spare them.

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

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Immortalis

IC: Lieutenant Sorin Valantin
War room

With a quiet click, the comms connection with the Auspex ended, and Sorin's sage eyes watched the lights on the console blink off. It was oddly final, and more than a bit worrisome. They had their orders; General ben Jzora would disengage and move the dreadnoughts into position to complete their jump to Korriban, where they would prepare to receive evacuees from the surface. If all went to plan, those in the tunnels below would be extricated from this hellish first advancement—they would be able to regroup and galvanize their forces. Sorin released a tense breath. His chest was tight, and his head was abuzz with fears. Hesper had to be successful. She had to be right. All around, the walls and floor shook violently, and Sorin remained crouched, grabbing his pike from where it rested against the console. The room was now emptied of its personnel, a sure sign that this was now also Sorin's cue to leave.

He hurried to the door he had come in from, straining to hear what kind of commotion might be occurring down below—though he couldn't hear much over the din of rumbling walls and cobbles, the familiar twinge in his heart he called the Force warped in a strange way. Danger. He couldn't go back down. There was something other down there. Turning, his eyes scanned the room for a different egress.

He tried to think small thoughts. Reduce himself. There were techniques he didn't know that could shrink one's presence; despite his ignorance, he tried. He kept his figurative hands off the Force. Whatever wrong darkness was lurking in the levels between himself and his Priestess below could not know of him. His breath came shallow and loud in his ears as he pressed his back against a quaking wall, eyes still desperately searching for some way out of this crumbling war room. Perhaps a window, or stairs to another level, or a hallway. Anything! Anything but death under a thousand crumbled stones…

TAG:
@Darth Dreadwar




IC: Imperatrix Hesper

The Underdelve

The flight down the jagged stairway into the tunnels below was fraught—broken chunks of masonry rained down on their heads, and Hesper ducked and weaved to the best of her ability, in order to make it down the stairs in one piece. Her thoughts felt as scattered as the pebbles underfoot as she stretched her Farsight upwards towards Sorin, and outwards to where Lord Xarxes was waiting for her, just meters away and into the tunnel. She wound through the crowd to reach him, her fingers brushing over the precious heads of the children and pushing aside grown Sith who stood in her way.

"Grant me your blessing," Xarxes was saying, and Hesper laid a hand on his gauntleted arm as she pushed past him, eyeing him with her silvered, scarred eye as she went. She moved with almost nary a pause.

"My blessing for you is constant," she said, "Rarely is there a moment when I am not standing on the brink of futurity. Ask me what I see as we move. Come with me now, there is no more time left to waste," Hesper said, slowing to look at him over her shoulder as she flourished her ignited blade. It cast her face in grim crimson light. She turned to walk backwards for a few paces, calling out to those of her cadre she had arrived with—Arach, Grievance, Reiis, Draconis (she gulped), and her dwindling retinue of Hesperian Guardsmen, the hole their Lieutenant left stinging in a vexatious way. "With me!"

Behind every breath Hesper took, there was a building crescendo of danger in the Force. It manifested as the terrors crawling out of the strange gateway she had breezed past, as the crumbling of the temple walls around their ears, and as the oppressive darkness she had just ran into. And as the tense vibrations that buffeted the Force. The knowledge that her master was above, in all his caliginous fury and might, was like a slow trickle of ice-water that dripped and rolled down her spine, a constant and uncomfortable reminder that death was close at hand. Compounded with the repetitive reel of dark oracles she had foreseen playing on a loop in her third eye, Hesper wondered how her joints could move at all in this moment. For all the blackened terror breathing down their neck, she felt surprisingly limber. She moved swiftly, beckoning with an arm for all who had pledged to her to follow.

Even now as she strode deeper into the dark, cavernous mouth of the stone Karness Muur, Hesper clung to her sliver of hope, the vision of the light at the end of this literal tunnel. Desperately, she nudged them towards it in her heart, a minute and careful exertion of her desire. This had to work.

 
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...

Well-known member
Immortalis
50720510_1087609494779302_2303162309670862848_n.gif

Darth Cruor
Outside the Sith Temple, Korriban

Blood spray from the recently dispatched fool coated his armor as the Battelord’s focus shifted to a sudden blockage in the flow of the True Sith army’s advance; a collapse of the entryway had cut off the advance forces from the rest of the army. He clenched his massive armored fist and an eerie green light began to gather around it, with a glowing clenched fist he began to walk toward the blocked entryway.

All the while he was studying the imposing pile of rubble looking for fault lines that were invisible to most, The Dark allowed him to see how these faults flowed and intersected. Some called these intersections “shatterpoints”, and when properly exploited were a potential source of catastrophic damage. To a master even the strongest armor could be shattered with the flick of a finger, when those “shatterpoints” occurred in a living being the result could be deadly.

Today he sought only to remove a barrier of stone, but after so many frustrations in this battle already he was ready to expel some pent up anger. He didn’t care that the rock he sent flying would likely rain down on undead allies and Sith defenders alike, he didn’t even care if living allies were harmed, all he cared about was clearing the pass and once it was breached his forces would be free to advance and replace the fallen.

Finally, once he felt confident of the surest location to strike he threw his hand forward in order to release the stored energy.

Tag:
@Darth Dreadwar

Powers Used: Force Burst 5, Shatterpoint 5
Soulsaber: Aura of Uneasiness 3, Battlemind 3
 

Darth Dreadwar

Active member
Immortalis
GM Update
Responses due January 2nd

IC: Darth Venomis
Banquet hall, Sith Temple, Korriban


As the last embers of Horuset’s dying flame faded into the coming darkness, a new fire rose into the night. It started as a spark, a kindling of resolve within the heart of one who would not go gently, but whose rage burned against the dying of the light. And then as the floodgates of Darth Kain’s power opened unto the desert, as hot tears burned his eyes and trailed down his cheeks, that spark became an inferno.

The thousand eyes of Mordiggian, locked in gorgonising glare from the black pyramids aloft, reflected only the glowing orange of growing flame. Flame, to light the wick, punish the wicked, and push back the darkness. Flame, to ignite the oil of Mnggal-Mnggal and burn away the feverish pestilence that blasphemously besieged Korriban in all its malodorous multitude. Flame, gouts of flame, swirling and spiralling into a towering tornado of conflagration, promising to break the forces of night and cleanse the very stars of their impurity.

Not some trick of pyrokinetic power to vanquish but a single foe. Not some conjuration of lesser illusion, as hoary Andeddu summoned from his hands as he rose unsteadily to his feet.

A blaze of celestial energy, churning with wroth as it ascended unto the heavens.

A vortex of infernal majesty.

A storm.

Within the blood-soaked banquet hall of the Sith Temple, Darth Venomis hissed, rearing back, black saliva spraying between bared fangs like an enraged serpent. Mortal flesh dared defy the will of a god? He would show these sons of carrion that their powers meant nothing before his might. The sting of Makatak would not be repeated. He would strike before this pretender could imitate Vassago’s example, and flee his indomitable grasp; he would reach out to that insect standing alone on the sands, and snuff out his life with a breath; he would shred his soul to the very last morsel, and devour the last screaming remnant. Leisurely sloth could not be afforded; he would play with his food no longer.

He would devour them all.

The great whore was entirely ignored. The daughter of Wutzek was attempting to divert his gaze with her pitiable phantasms, but he could see that which she sought to distract him from, feel the heat upon his thralls’ cheeks as the storm towered into the sky to touch the black banks of clouds. He had no time to brush away her illusion with a swipe. His hand rose, and with it, all his power, focused on only one goal: to consume Darth Kain before that accursed storm of fire consumed every last thrall of his host.

Beyond the eastern wall of the temple, where the sun would rise next blessed morn, the son of Abeloth stood amidst his holocaust. A man whose bravery was the flames he bade multiply, whose fortress was the sands of the desert, whose breath was the heat of the air. A man standing alone, against a god.

That horrid feeling of thanatophobic attention strengthened around him, as a torrent of sheer blackness approached in the Force. A dark cloud weighed heavy against him, not the shadow of his divine storm, but something unseen, polluted, vile, the plague of hunger and blight.

And as that man stood, fearless, in the shadow of Death, the hands that steered his inferno began to wither, as the hand of dearth and darkness wrapped around his heart, and began to pull. At once, crimson light flowed from his chest, flowing towards that distant, unseen hand behind the stone wall, as if his very spirit were bleeding out through some terrible wound in the Force. As if that horrid presence in the Force, staring at him with evil attention, were feeding upon his very soul, feeding upon every ribbon of aetheric energy that could be brought to bear against it, feeding upon everything that was Darth Kain.

It was over in an instant, starvation in a second. There was little pain, no matter how much the Lord of Pestilence might have wished to inflict unending suffering upon his victim, no matter how black the fury of that clutching hand of famine. There was nothing but darkness, encroaching around the eyes, as the son of fire stared into the abyss of Death, and the abyss stared back.

Skin sloughed into dust. Bone crumbled into flakes. And then Darth Kain was no more.


TAG: @Darth Kain

OOC:
For his usage of Force Storm, Darth Kain rolls 12 + 21 + 10 against DC 40, and succeeds, creating a Force Storm (Firestorm variant). Darth Venomis retaliates with Hunger, rolling 2 + 50 + 10 against DC 1, succeeding in causing 10d10 Damage (3 + 8 + 1 + 4 + 3 + 9 + 8 + 9 + 3 + 1) + Modifier of 5 + Modifier of 10, reducing Kain’s HP to 0.

Darth Kain is dead and cannot be revived. A final death post may be written prior to rerolling, and I will err on allowing the Force Storm, as a two-round power, to be targeted at enemies in this post.





IC: Darth Dreadwar
Banquet Hall, Sith Temple

Threats, blackmail, hostages; in Dreadwar’s experience, rational (or irrational) agents only employed such methods of coercion because they expected them to work. Game theory had a simple answer: remove the expectation, and become unthreatenable. Ignore all such threats, no matter whether one takes your daughter for a hostage or your lover (or your most embarrassing secret), and remove the incentive for one to take such hostages to begin with; remove the incentive, and decrease the likelihood of receiving such threats across one’s entire lifetime (ironically protecting one’s treasures more than letting the world know that threatening them is a winning strategy); remain true to your precommitment no matter whether one foolishly attempts such anyway, so that all may know your refusal to negotiate with hostage-takers and blackmailers is no bluff.

There was a poetic beauty to it, the rationality of seeming irrational. The rationality of winning a game of chicken, by tearing off the steering yoke of the proverbial landspeeder.

Darth Dreadwar did not even turn to acknowledge Volshe’s threat. He would follow his precommitment no matter how it was tested; in this way would the safety of his children be assured to a greater degree than giving the slightest sign threatening them would ever achieve negotiation. It was particularly foolish for Volshe to try; had he not instructed her in game theory, the principles underpinning galactic governments’ refusal to negotiate with terrorists, and all his subtleties?

He laughed, a cold, indifferent thing, as he busied himself with clearing the entrance hall. No illusion, nor its threats, would distract him from the greater good. While Dreadwar possessed little native talent for telekinesis, the gauntlet of Crassus, and the power of Nilrebmah flowing through him, sufficed for this task, and within seconds, sufficient boulders had been cleared as to once again let his soldiers enter, if only single-file. Seconds later still, and a dark shadow fell across the slit of light thus opened, and what remained of the stone barrier cracked across a web of hairline fractures, before exploding inwards. Dreadwar’s power shifted to protecting himself from the flying rock, before letting the masonry fall to either side of him, nodding approvingly as that dark shadow revealed itself to be Darth Cruor.

The way was clear, and scelerous dead and scarlet daemons once again poured into the temple, swarming around the Gen’Dai as if he were a mountainous isle splitting the returning tide.

Dreadwar, at last, turned to face the banquet hall, eyeless gaze falling upon the illusion of Volshe as if noticing her for the first time. “Go kill them, then,” he hissed, amusement in those sepulchral tones. “I took a vow, magically unbreakable by the power of the Crown of Verity, to ignore all such threats, for all my eternity.”

Now that was a lie; the Crown of Verity was an artifact that compelled the wearer to tell only truth beneath its brim, but it had no binding power to prevent one from changing one’s mind afterwards. Still, Dreadwar had found that sapients rarely made such a fine distinction, and, like Darth Traya of Hapes, could be tricked into permanently abiding by vows they thought unbreakable, particularly when Dreadwar sold the deception by donning the Crown himself and assuring them that they would indeed be killed if they broke their oath (a profoundly misleading but technically correct statement premised on the fact that Dreadwar intended to personally kill such violators). Nonetheless, to one such as Dreadwar, a precommitment might as well have been a magically binding oath.

Laughing again, Dreadwar brushed past the projection, empty hood turning to and fro as he took stock of the slaughter ahead. No matter their peculiar coordination, the sable-armoured Stormtroopers of the New Sith Order were falling by the hundreds; a crisscross of crimson fire had given way to the occasional potshot of plasma, as the monstrous Massassi—alive and undead—butchered their bloody path betwixt the fallen banquet tables. The Order’s best Knights offered scarcely greater challenge, lightsabers flailing futilely against rotting cortosis swords and squamous hides of mutant flesh, and even the flickering shadow-ghouls were greatly diminished, as rictus-grinning Kissai warlocks of Rhand plied their dread thaumaturgy against the bodies to which they were tethered, and by trial-and-error and darkest magick, began to deduce the means by which to destroy the spindly sprites permanently.

Cooking flesh and acrid ozone, these were the scents Dreadwar inhaled like the fragrance of an ambrosial feast, as his hood turned from that ruined banquet to the dungeons on the right. Andeddu, hands trailing what suspiciously looked like magma, was entering that narrow passageway on the heels of Hord and Malleus, and Dreadwar’s gaze, boring through stone, saw the prey the Lords of the Shadow Council so doggedly hunted: his old apprentice, Arach, accompanied by his descendant, Voidwalker of Onderon, his former Shadow Hand, Nathemus, and the pretender who once thought himself Emperor, Darth Krayt, reborn.

Andeddu looked a little worse for wear, Dreadwar thought, although it was difficult to tell with one such as him; Malleus, too, bore all the marks of preternatural injury, armour rent from the exposed chest of the human ancient Adas possessed, skin cracked and bleeding like Nathemus’ own carbuncled flesh, as if some great power had torn at him. No wonder the Shadow Lords were furious. Nonetheless, Andeddu possessed healing arts derived from Karness Muur himself, and the same regenerative techniques by which Krayt had revived would protect the Shadow Councillors against lasting harm. Their quarries were retreating into the underdelve that had once served as Dreadwar’s subterranean lair, telekinetically tugging the foolishly brave Voidwalker from the encroaching eidolons, and fate—or perhaps the fickle hand of the Force—appeared to be on their side, a great cascade of cyclopean masonry falling from the ceiling just as they ducked into the abyssal stairway, pelting the four Sith Lords, and the apprentice Nacros, with stone, but nonetheless creating a barrier in the path of the Shadow Councillors’ pursuit.


Clearly, the Gorog had gotten a little overenthused; the shaking in the dungeons had become a noticeable tremor throughout the temple, accompanied by a faint, growing rumble that reminded Dreadwar of the thunder of a desert storm, or perhaps the eruption of a distant volcano. Nonetheless, as Malleus stretched forth his hand to begin clearing the debris, Dreadwar saw that the three wraiths had things well in hand, and turned his gaze to the east.

The Massassi had reached the exit opposite, now, pouring through the reception hall outside the throne room, and making their way up the stairs to the upper levels, footsteps sounding across the labyrinthine corridors leading to the war room. For any unfortunates lurking in the Intelligence Wing, there would be no escape.

For the third time in as many minutes, Dreadwar laughed. Despite its little ups and downs, this was turning out to be a surprisingly good day.


TAGs: @Darth Cruor, @Darth Voidwalker, @Darth Feros, @Nacros Telcontare, @Arach, @Darth Nathemus, @Admiral Volshe

OOC: For his usage of Cryokinesis, Darth Nathemus rolls 9 + 20 + 10, and fails against Malleus’ DC 46, Andeddu’s DC 45 and Hord’s DC 45; the Shadow Councillors are able to effortlessly shrug off the supernatural frost. For his usage of Telekinesis on Darth Voidwalker, Nathemus rolls 13 + 20 + 10 against DC 10, with an Effect of 6 + Modifier of 3, a successful but slight effect.

For his usage of Inflict Pain, Darth Voidwalker rolls a 2 + 19 + 10, and fails against Malleus’ DC 46; Malleus shrugs off the pain. For his usage of Darkshear, Voidwalker rolls a 6 + 19 + 10, and fails against Malleus’ DC 46; Malleus, accustomed to Darkshear from Nathemus’ attack, is able to resist.

For his usage of Force Rend, Darth Feros rolls an 18 + 19 + 10 and succeeds against Malleus’ DC 46, inflicting 13 + Modifier of 2 + Bonus of 3 Damage. However, Malleus is utilising Force Resistance, and rolls 2 + 1 + 2 + 2 + Modifier of 5, negating 12 Damage; his HP is reduced to 19. For Feros’ usage of Telekinesis on Voidwalker, he rolls a 7 + 19 + 10 against DC 10, succeeding and achieving an Effect of 3 + Modifier of 2 + Bonus of 3, a slight effect.

For her usage of Inflict Pain, Darth Arach rolls a 17 + 20 + 10, succeeding and inflicting 6 + Modifier of 2 Damage; this is entirely negated by Malleus’ Force Resistance, and does not slow his forward progress. For her usage of Shadow Strike, she rolls a 3 + 20 + 10, and fails against Malleus’ DC 46. For her usage of Telekinesis, Arach rolls 5 + 20 + 10 against DC 10, and succeeds, with an Effect of 11 + Modifier of 2, a moderate effect. The combined result of these telekinetic tugs is enough to pull Voidwalker from harm, if Voidwalker desires.

Due to Catalyst’s trick with the Force Barrier, I am arbitrating the loss of 2 HP for the above team from falling rocks. Nathemus’ HP is reduced to 19, Voidwalker’s HP is reduced to 16, Arach’s HP is reduced to 37, Feros’ HP is reduced to 31, and Nacros, nearby, has his HP reduced to 8.

Darth Andeddu deploys Sith Illusions (succeeding with a 3 + 23 + 10 against 10, with an Effect of 13 + 5), creating streams of illusory flame, followed by Dark Side Healing on himself and Hord (succeeding with a 4 + 23 + 10 against DC 20, with an Effect of 16 + 5). Andeddu’s HP is replenished to 44, as is Hord’s.

Darth Cruor attempts Force Burst in conjunction with Shatterpoint against the blockage, succeeding in both with a 9 + 23 + 10 against DC 10 (with an Effect of 18 + 5) and a 2 + 23 + 10 against DC 30 (with an Effect of 21 + 1), respectively, successfully shattering and clearing the fallen rocks with ease. There is no need to process buffs at this time. Cruor's HP replenishes by a further 5 points.

Darth Dreadwar successfully assists Cruor with his own Telekinesis (12 + 25 + 10 + Bonus of 10 against DC 10, with an Effect of 21 + 5), and uses Force Sight (6 + 25 + 10 with an Effect of 24 + 2) to peer through the walls into the dungeons.

Darth Viscretus’ usage of Sith Illusions is successful, rolling a 6 + 23 + 10 against DC 10 with an Effect of 12 + 4, creating two illusions of Volshe in the banquet hall.

Hadzuska’s Sith Illusions attack the enemy, and although they have no effect on the Korriban zombies, we can roll for attacks against the Massassi and other enemies in the banquet hall; a single Attack Roll of 2 + 15 + 5 will be used against multiple (arbitrated as thirty) opponents, succeeding against DC 20 and inflicting 19 + 2 Damage each, reducing the HP of all thirty Massassi closest to the Rakghoul pack to 0 (including the twenty injured last round).





IC: Darth Apollyon
Underdelve, Sith Temple, Korriban

With an unearthly sound somewhere between a sudden whoosh and a scraping snap, the hypergate deactivated, its pane of ethereal darkness drawing into the centre of the doorway in strangely scintillating particles of anti-light, before winking out entirely. The gate’s deactivation revealed a small room beyond, not quite as dark as the prior inky blackness, approximately six meters across all of its dimensions. The most significant artifact within the cracked, dust-laden chamber was a single, open-top landspeeder, of evidently antiquated design, crouching in its centre. The thing was narrow, with a cylindrical chassis, perhaps four feet wide, tapering to a needle-like point, and sported only two seats: the driver’s seat, and a passenger seat behind it.

Subtle golden threads, inlaid into chromium that had long since lost its lustre, suggested the work of ancient Alsakanian artisans.

There were several stone pedestals placed around the periphery of the chamber, most of them bare, although a small metallic sphere resembling a thermal detonator sat atop one, and a crude wooden figurine of a woman, clearly abandoned before the details of its face could be carved, lay upon another. On the far side, near the wall, two metal brackets jutted out from the roughly hewn floor, suggesting a stand for some large, upright piece of decoration or furniture, perhaps a mirror, that had since been removed. A small piece of yellowed papyrus lay in the corner.

Apollyon barely noticed such details. The shadow slayers this side of the archway, the blur of combat and chaos, consumed all her attention.

The three closest slayers were already falling, bone masks—or were they faces?—splintering as if telekinetically pummeled by some unseen force. Darth Xxys, swinging his fists at the air as if boxing an invisible enemy, could only be responsible. The ghasts fell to the ground with a dreadful cry, an emerald bolt of ethereal energy thudding into the body of one, courtesy of Mavros, followed by a gout of hellish flame from the hand of a daemonic Devaronian.

Three of the hateful assassins yet remained, however, and although one struggled mightily against strangely radiant vines and thorns seemingly summoned by Thana, the other two, stepping around the bodies of their kin, retained freedom of movement, drawing their iron swords from their scabbards. The one on the left advanced towards Blodraald and the younglings he protected, while the one on the right stalked Keres, Kira and Zareel, as if noticing the resolve within the apprentices’ battle-ready stance.

There were other Sith entering the cavern, now, making their way down the crooked stairs beside Invadator and Kielor—or skittering across the wall like a spice spider, in the case of the facultatively quadrupedal Grievance. The entrance atop the stairs was billowing dust and rapidly darkening, suggesting a cave-in or collapse just behind several shadowy figures that were clearly the last to depart the dungeons, but Apollyon hardly hoped for reinforcements. Those who had reached the bottom of the stairs were not helping at all; Draconis had retreated into the darkness of the cavern, ignoring the battle entirely, Ermir Marcus merely loitered beside Wyyrlok and Talon, hand clutching his side while requesting their aid, and Hesper breezed past the slayers without a second glance, ignoring Viscretus’ attempts at taking command while she was at it. Perhaps the other apprentice thought she was too good to assist Apollyon?

But no, not even Catalyst rendered aid, preferring instead to fall back on his boorish snark. Apollyon remembered a lesson like this from her master. The bystander effect, Darth Dreadwar had called it. Dilute responsibility, her master’s rasping whisper returned to her, and you will find no one helps at all, even if a stranger should be choking to death in front of a crowd. If Apollyon ever required help in similar circumstances, Dreadwar had told her, it was best to arbitrarily single out individuals, and request assistance from them specifically. Social pressure, when sharpened to a point, could overcome the effect.

“You,” Apollyon called out, pointing at Mirtis. “Kill the restrained one before it breaks free. Pravum, do something with those things.” The proud aristocrat had given form to four monstrous shadows that resembled the enemy slayers, only grander in stature and more grotesque, if it were possible, in appearance. “Viscretus, stop faffing about with that datapad and get in there.” Changes in rank, over the years, had not changed the dynamic between Apollyon and her oldest friend one iota, and Apollyon, however unknowingly, had touched upon a point: the control console now displayed no options at all, powering down to a blank, black screen.

Only I-Ron, plying his strange mastery over machines to the inactive gate, knew why. As his mind traced along the infernal wiring, it became apparent that the gate had been modified years ago, the salient parts to create an outgoing wormhole stripped clean, with only the capability to receive an incoming wormhole left intact; it was the atomisation of passing the event horizon of a one-way wormhole, not a deliberate field of incineration, that had prevented exit while the gate had been active. While the astrographic data remained, a spiderweb of light in I-Ron’s mind as dots manifested across a mental galaxy fainter than hypnagogic illusion, betraying locations on all the worlds the Gree Enclave had once touched, the gate was useless, save for its one intended purpose.

A device of invasion, not of escape.

Apollyon, for her part, was too busy to ponder such ancient mysteries, such sinister implications of how long the hypergate’s master had planned his assault. Unstable lightsaber trailing plasma like a sword dripping blood, Apollyon hurled herself into the fray with a Force-fuelled leap, bare feet missing Hadzuska’s head by inches as her scarlet ball gown flapped somewhat comically in the air, landing beside the slayer approaching the children and swinging with alacritous if graceful fury towards its legs in the signature, sweeping twirl of Makashi mastery.

Behind her, Draconis delved deeper into the darkness, until at last, guided by his preternatural perception, he reached the far wall of the vault, perhaps a hundred feet beyond the assembling crowd. There were two antechambers, here, in the shadow of the sheer wall that flanked Draconis on his right, the base of the great stair spiralling above. They appeared to be crypts of antiquarian construction, the leftward chamber guarded by two statues of a woman with long fingernails and containing an empty sarcophagus with its lid long-since removed, the rightward chamber guarded by statues of a horn-helmed figure and containing what resembled an altar surrounded by an empty, shallow moat. Inscriptions above each doorway spelled out words in ancient Sith. Crowning the left archway, the words “HERE LIES XOXAAN; LOOK ON HER WORKS, YE MIGHTY, AND DESPAIR.” On the right, “COME, YE FAITHFUL; BE BAPTISED IN THE BLOOD OF THE SEPULCHER OF LACERUS.”

Further to the right, a third doorway gave way to a long, dark passage from which the faintest trickle could be heard, perhaps the source of the brackish water pooling beside the hypergate. No inscription was visible, but it, too, was flanked by statues, portraying a strange, humanoid alien with a grotesquely bulging cranium that resembled an oversized and horrifically exposed brain. The style of statuary was considerably less decadent than its counterparts beside the antechambers, suggestive of the more advanced construction methods of more recent centuries, and the distance of the doorway from the others suggested that it had been carved into the rock in such a way as to convey chronological remoteness from its more ancient forebears.

Perhaps such abominable, unlighted chambers had once possessed great treasures of yore, but Draconis could sense nothing but repellent emptiness, now, as if even the mysterious passageway on the right veiled nothing but darkness and the lost memories of yesteryear, breathing a foul wind of loneliness and forgetfulness somehow strangely redolent of some secret, subterranean realm of eerie, arcane beauty. If there was any salvation to be found in the bare and barren cavern blasphemously concealed beneath the crumbling temple of the Sith, the Force seemed to whisper, it could only be found behind him… in the caliginous maw of Karness Muur.

Within that tunnel of singular frightfulness and eldritch anxiety, the blood of shyrack spattered across the arabesques, flowing in rivulets past the grotesque pictures and hieroglyphs, as Xiannarr began his bloody work. The flying beasts, released by Xarxes’ telekinetic hand, had no time to flee; launching himself forward with an acrobatic feat of Ataru, Xiannarr cleaved his first target in twain with a spin, lightsaber lashing at the others within the flock with practiced Makashi elegance, swiftly leaving a trail of small severed heads and leathery wings to fall pathetically to the ground around him.

Nonetheless, the display obscured Xarxes’ mqaaq'it-enhanced night vision, pinwheeling plasma blinding such potent perception. While Xarxes could vaguely sense the tunnel continuing beyond that distant seam of light, suggesting the crack indeed represented some kind of doorway hundreds of meters distant, and Hesper’s own feelings conveyed a sense of a great, open space at the far end of the tunnel, it was clear that no master of the Force could ferret out anything beyond fleeting impressions and hazy intimations. The only way of finding out what truly awaited them in that tunnel of death and darkness was to brave traversing its depraved depths.

Beside them, the tridactyl hand of a long-dead primordial cracked open beneath Karin’s tender grasp. The similarity with the three-clawed hands of the animated ghouls above could not be mistaken. The enemy that assailed them had been to Korriban before. They could only be Korriban’s original inhabitants, from an era before any dark Jedi had come in conquest.

There was only one conclusion any keen historian could reach: the enemy was the Sith. Not the religious tradition that had survived the Great Hyperspace War, not the cult of fallen Jedi and dark side devotion, but the three-fingered species of pureblooded evil that had lent the Order its name, whose decadent and degenerate remnants had been overrun by exiled Jedi schismatics to birth the familiar empires of history books. The diabolical, red-skinned daemons of tendrilous countenance that had reigned before the Republic and its Jedi guardians had ever existed, when the Gree and the Rakata had yet been young, whence hazy names of prehistory like Adas and Wyyrmuk were passed down beside unnameable terrors remembered only by their historical impossibility, legends of foul and immortal gods ruling Alsakan and Sarafur and Alpheridies, anomalies in the archaeological record, brought to feverish, unhallowed life.


The enemy was the true Sith. And the tunnel beyond, the only means of escape for those who had unknowingly claimed the name of the elder, ruinous powers now returned to destroy them, could only be their grinning, perversely waiting catacomb of horror, forgotten beneath the sands of Korriban for a hundred thousand years.

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

OOC:
Darth Catalyst attempts Telepathic communication with Xarxes, rolling a 14 + 20 + 10 against DC 10, and succeeding with an Effect of 10 + 3, allowing Xarxes to read Catalyst’s curiosity about the tunnel, but not his exact words.

Darth Xxys attempts Shadowstrike against three Shadow Slayers, rolling an 8 + 19 + 10 against DC 15, and succeeding with 22 + 2 Damage, reducing the HP of the three Slayers targeted to 0. He telekinetically punches them to death. As Xxys specified he targeted the lead shadow slayers, Samael’s Pyrokinetic attack against the slayer closest to Catalyst can be presumed to affect one of these three, and there is thus no need for Attack or Damage rolls here. Mavros’ Bolt of Hatred against the slayer pointing at him also affects one of these three, and there is thus no need for Attack or Damage rolls here.

There is no need to roll for Karin’s attempt at repeating Cryokinesis; the Effect remains the same as last round.

I-Ron’s attempt at Mechu Deru rolls a 14 + 13 + 5 against DC 20, and succeeds, with a moderate Effect of 6 + Modifier of 3 + Bonus of 3. I-Ron is able to plumb desired information about the hypergate, but is unable to exert any control.

Xiannarr’s usage of Telekinesis rolls an 8 + 15 + 5 against DC 10, with an Effect of 9 + 4 + Bonus of 2 allowing him to pull his lightsaber to his hand. His first attack against the shyrack rolls a 3 + 15 + 5 + Bonus of 2 against DC 10, and succeeds, with Damage of 6 + 4 + Bonus of 2, killing the first shyrack. His successive attacks roll 12 + 15 + 5 + Bonus of 2 against DC 10, succeeding against (arbitrated as twelve) remaining shyracks, with Damage of 16 + 4 + Bonus of 2 depleting these shyracks’ HP to 0. Xiannarr is using too many abilities at once, so there is no need to roll for Aura of Unease.

For his usage of Telekinesis, Draconis rolls a 9 + 22 + 10 against DC 10, and succeeds, with an Effect of 14 + 5 allowing him to hold falling debris above him and avoid incurring damage. For his usage of Force Sense, he rolls 14 + 22 + 10 against DC 10, and succeeds, with an Effect of 19 + 2 allowing complete success in sensing the desired areas with great thoroughness. For his usage of Breath Control, he rolls 18 + 22 + 10 against DC 10, and succeeds, with an Effect of 14 allowing him to control his breath against choking dust. Draconis has incurred no damage, so there is no need to roll for his usage of Dark Side Healing.

For his usage of Farsight, Xarxes rolls 8 + 18 + 5 against DC 10, and succeeds, with an Effect of 9 - 1 allowing for faint perception of what lies ahead in the tunnel.

For her usage of Surge of the Brier, Thana rolls 10 + 15 + 5 against DC 15, and succeeds, inflicting 1 + 2 + 1 Damage against one of the remaining three slayers, decreasing its HP to 11. One of Volshe’s Imperial Knights also attacks one of these three with his lightsaber, but fails to connect, with an Attack Roll of 3 + 10 against DC 15.

For his usage of Create Force Wraith, Pravum rolls 10 + 18 + 5 against DC 20, and succeeds, an Effect of 17 + 3 allowing for the creation of four large and monstrous Force Wraiths.

For her usage of Darksight, Hesper rolls 9 + 21 + 10 against DC 35, and succeeds, with an Effect of 28 + 4, an extreme success. Her usage of Farsight rolls a natural 20, an automatic success, with an Effect of 11 + 3 allowing her to vaguely sense Sorin’s whereabouts upstairs and malign Force signatures approaching the war room, and more clearly determine what lies beyond in the tunnel.





IC: No one
Empty space between Korriban and Bosthirda

The TIE Reaper sped into the black, slicing through the eerie majesty of space, trailing phantasmal plumes of plasma beneath the sighing veils of Sedicious’ gossamer illusions. The seraphic nebula of blazing azure, and its strange and monsterful fleet of silent, gleaming galleons, receded behind the whining ion engines, as 114D guided the miniature troop transport on its interstellar fare.

It did not take long before the Reaper had put sufficient distance between itself and the gravity mines that blanketed the ghostly intersection of space behind in a field of ensnarement, and while it could not be determined whether the Hesperian ships had achieved similar fortune, for even their behemothic forms vanished into distant specks by virtue of the Reaper’s superior sublight speed, there could be little doubt that hyperspace launch to Dromund Kaas was now within its crew’s reach. Many had their misadventures been, yet the dragon and its rider had not destroyed them, and the interdiction had only delayed them; now, if the Force was good, safety awaited.

Safety, and respite.

But as Ānhrā Māhnîu stared back through the viewport, something most unusual occurred. Within his chest, his heart beat but once. Hardly significant for any conventional sapient, but that single disconcerting pulse, redolent of some peculiar fear not his own, was the first time the muscle had throbbed in years; not since the ritual of the Murakami orchid, by which Māhnîu had vanquished death and shed all natural function of the body, had such a thing occurred. It was a faint feeling, without a second beat to confirm that strange clenching as anything more than momentary hallucination, but it was a difficult thing to deny altogether.

Perhaps the Force was not good; perhaps misfortune and strange circumstance dogged their steps, as if they were locked in a gladiatorial game mastered by some cruel and arcane magister.

For the undead Lord of Lwhekk, what could have caused such a frightful if fleeting reminder of mortality?


TAGs: @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @Darth Sedicious




IC: Cruella Vandron
Sith Imperial Garrison, Axum

“There it is,” Cruella breathed, pointing to the drear sky. “There it is. Yes!” The last word came out a hiss, excitement and fear drawn between her teeth as the Aximand, that elegant, waisted spearhead of a cruiser, descended through the low banks of clouds above.

Chartreuse and vermillion streaked through the sky, as the Strike-class medium cruiser opened fire, its commander’s orders swiftly conveyed to the gunners concealed within the smooth, chitinous grey carapace of its sleek, arcuate hull. Explosions mushroomed into the distance, as the turbolasers pounded the clanking army of bronze marching up the riverbank; the armament of a vessel such as the Aximand was not nearly sufficient to destroy such numbers of infantry, Vandron knew, but it was more than a peppering, and the unwholesome automatons would not be able to advance so long as the cruiser kept firing.

It was just as well, as young Tobbi Airskipper had not yet mastered the Force, and as copious mud and instantly-vapourised water hurled itself to the heavens with each thundering boom of a turbolaser strike, his concentration faltered, and the debris he sought to move slipped from his mental grasp. No barricade would protect them; only the Aximand and its cannons would be their salvation now.

Cruella threw her hands into the air, waving her arms in great arcing motions, hoping beyond all hopes that she could be seen.

From the hangar of the Aximand, Cruella and her compatriots were but diminutive figures, there at the base of the pyramidal bastion of iron that was the garrison, exposed to the elements and the screeching of plasma near that muddy landing pad.

Aboard the Vassago-class shuttle, Captain Teracotus took his seat within the transport hold, back pressed against the starboard bulkhead, and strapped himself in. The pilot, in the cockpit, tightened his hands around the control yoke, knuckles white with tension. “Should we launch without them, sir?” Teracotus asked Omegon, tossing his head towards the still-lowered boarding ramp in reference to the slothful Shadowsun and Rayge. He had armed himself upon Omegon’s suggestions, and ordered countermeasures and jamming; there was no more time to be wasted.

It was now or never.


TAGs: @Kint Dranlor, @Rayge, @Dorrian Shadowsun, @Tobbi Airskipper

OOC:
Tobbi Airskipper rolls a natural 1 for his first roll in the game. This is a critical failure and his telekinetic attempt does not succeed. Welcome to The True Sith Trials!
 

Darth Kain

Administrator
Staff member
Administrator
Moderator
Dark Council
Immortalis
“Given the choice – whether to rule a corrupt and failing empire or to challenge the Fates for another throne, a better throne, against one's destiny – what was a king to do?

But does one ever truly have a choice? One can only match, move by move, the machinations of Fate, and thus defy the tyrannous stars.

And so I returned to the sanctuary of my enemy – the temple of the Sith Order, deemed impossible for any man to penetrate… impossible for any man.”

-James Howerton

IC: Darth Kain, the Beloved King of the Stars
The End

The power of the sun… in the palm of my hand.

PicsArt_12-13-01.54.41.jpg

It had begun as a spark, as all flames do. And it was here, condensed into a singular, definitive event, that the story of all the universe was told. The Son of Suns was life, the stars, and all that we hold dear. The God of Rot was entropy, darkness, and the fate of all things. Life was what gave the universe its meaning. Without life, there would be no one to experience its beauty, its cruelty, its very existence. But the universe did not possess the ability to care. The dark’s patience is infinite. Eventually, even stars burn out.

The dark is selfish, it is persistent, and it always wins – but in the heart of its strength lies its weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back. Love is more than a candle. Love can ignite the stars. And today, it was love that fueled the fire of Darth Kain, the Beloved King of the Stars, one last time.

He watched as his hands began to crumble to dust, the tentacles wilting like dying vines. Next were his arms, then his chest. It spread across him like a cancer, a horrifying disease of rot. Crimson light began to pour from his heart, hastily retreating from his decaying form and pouring into the outstretched hand of his celestial brother on the other side of the wall. A single tear streaked down his cheek as he watched himself die. But the fire, the oh-so-glorious fire, would live on.

And for that, he deemed this fate worthy.

The vision that had been granted to him by his trials with the Aing-Tii had been meant to try and dissuade him. To make him change course, to warn him of impending death. But it was denied. If the only way to live was to be a coward, to not try everything in his power to stop this enemy before it could threaten those he loved, then he was not meant to live.

And when the darkness overtook him, when the eyes of a thousand stared into his soul and demanded it be devoured, there was one moment, one frozen lapse in time, where he found himself surrounded by the stares of beings that had no such desires.

“I’m proud of you, kid.” Hassan, the man who raised him, the man who taught him every lesson that had ever mattered, hugged him one more time. Kain’s tentacled appendages, withering away even here, could not be moved from the directing of his storm. But he buried his face into his father’s shoulder all the same, and were the Twi’lek’s shirt made of physical matter, it would be stained with tears.

“Will they be alright?” he asked him. “Nataniella, Eva, my son…”

“You ended up just fine. They will, too.”

Kain blinked away the tears as he watched another approach. His breath caught in his throat, perhaps because his lungs were disappearing.

“Our time has yet to come.” Abeloth, the woman who created him, the woman that showed him who he was truly meant to be, wrapped herself around him. A sob escaped his decaying lips.

“My time is over,” he whispered.

She smiled that warm, sweet smile. “Only for now.”

He embraced them, his celestial mother and mortal father, for the final time.


In his last moments, the Beloved King knew he could no longer stand on ceremony. The storm was alive, and it was ready to avenge its maker. He cast it forth, aiming it through the temple before him and then upwards into the sky, to destroy all the pyramidal fleet that dared to keep his friends trapped on this desiccated world. The desert sands of Korriban would turn to glass, the armies of the dead would turn to ash, and all would remember the name of the one that defeated the True Sith, in the first battle, in the last of the Star Wars.

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

Power(s) Used

Wormhole: Force Fire Storm - Aiming (10)
Aing-Tii Fighting Sight (Passive)

OOC: I want to thank every single one of you for every ounce of support you’ve ever shown this character. Whether it was through praise, criticism, memes, or Great Walls of Text, I am grateful for it all. Darth Kain has been a big part of my life for the past four years, ever since some guy named Edward Dodds asked me if I wanted to join some little roleplaying game called The Old Sith Trials. I accepted, and my life has never been the same since. Through Kain I’ve learned so many invaluable things, whether it be things about improving my writing, about working with so many talented people, or most of all, things about myself. And though this is certainly not the last of his stories, I cannot help but feel that Venomis killed a small part of me along with Kain. May his sacrifice inspire all of your characters to survive this conflict, and may mine inspire all of you to never stop improving your craft. Next year, I will have a new character, younger and… far less powerful. But I hope you all love her the same way you loved Kain. Merry Christmas, everyone, and may the Force serve you well.

PicsArt_12-23-07.07.06.jpg
 

Darth Cold

Well-known member
Moderator
Dark Council
IC: Hadzuska, & Samael
Underdelve beneath the Sith Temple, Korriban


They were strong, Hadzuska couldn’t hold them back no matter how hard he tried, even if he was able to kill a few. Looking over to Samael he mourned for the boy for a moment. No! I won’t let him die. He declared to himself. Then he felt a slight breeze as Lady Apollyon’s foot nearly caressed the top of his head as she leaped into battle.




Moving slowly so that he didn’t break his focus on his illusions he backed up to the boy and addressed him quietly. “Samael, when a safe path is found, take it. Save yourself, and pray to the Gods we meet again.


Samael heard him but couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “But, I promised I would st-


I know what you promised, I was there. But I also remember you promising something else as well. Do as I say and go.” Hadzuska eyed Lord Catalyst. Keep him safe Manchild.These people know you, use that, learn from them, and grow stronger. If the Gods deem it so, we will meet again.


After giving his orders Hadzuska moved towards the entry to the stairs. The boy would survive, he would make sure of it. He would face the darkness if he had to. Unbeknownst to him a tear rolled down the face of Samael as he realized he was about to lose a friend.




What am I doing? I don’t want to die. But I have to do this, the boy needs to live. Yes, he needs to live. But I don’t want to die. What am I doing? What do I do? If he wasn’t here I wouldn’t have even thought of doing something like that. If he wasn’t here, to hell with the rest of them. Why should I die? No, they should die. But then the boy won’t be safe. To hell with them. Let them suffer. No, I won’t do that to him. This is so frustrating. If he wasn’t here I wouldn’t hesitate to let them die. It’s his fault that I’m in this situation. But it was my decision to bring him. WHY?




Everything inside him told him to run, not to face the coming darkness, but his heart wouldn’t listen and powered through. Still focusing on his illusions whilst everything else told him to run, Hadzuska unclipped his lightsaber hilt, and lightwhip but did not ignite them yet. He stood as ready as he could as he waited for what might be the end of his tale in this world. Maybe someone else who might get his memories, like he got all those others, would learn from this.


Samael steeled himself, he couldn’t be weak right now, not when someone he cared about was about to put it all on the line for his safety. He would continue to protect Lord Catalyst, and learn from him just like he told him to do. “I won’t let you down.” He said quietly to himself, and then put all his passionate emotions into his pyrokinesis as he attacked the remaining slayers. I will keep them safe, and we will meet again. I promise.


(Powers Used: Hadzuska's Sith Illusions - 4
Samael's Pyrokinesis - 2)


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

Darth Xxys

Active member
Moderator
Dark Council
Immortalis
(XXYS IC)
Underdelve

Xxys came set as his Shadow Strikes struck home and sent three of the newly coalesced warrior wraiths crashing to the ground, their heads smashed to pulp. One of the warriors burst into flames that quickly subsided as someone sent a blast of Pyrokentic energy into the attacking beasts. Xxys could feel the Force being ripoed this way and that as the powers above fought to rest control of the energy field from those they opposed...they were winning.

As the battle ensued Xxys noted a growing rumble that at first he thought was the trembling of the temple caused by explosives above, but this was deeper, and more consistent that any explosions. Giant hammer blows shook the roof of the underground tunnels until bits of rock and sand began to fall into the already cramped and chaotic space. The dust was becoming thick, and several people had come into the Underdelve only to find their way blocked by either the still rampaging trio of spectral warriors, or stymied by others that seemed oblivious to the monsters in their midst.

Chaos.

Xxys launched forward to bring his blade to bare and locked his attentions on the last three shadow slayers. As he crossed the few meters separating them he drew a second saber from his belt and activated the crimson blade in a blur of motion. He made sure his body and blades were between the slayers and the children.

"Come on you bags of bones!" He growled

His mind was focused to block the fear emanating from the invading army, and the distractions of the panicked. Only one task was set before him.

Destroy the enemy.

Xxys moved into the fray, careful to avoid those that also plied their weapons to stave off the remaining three phantoms. The Lady Apollyon had launched herself up and over the crowd and was falling like impending doom onto the spectral opponents from the opposite side of the room.

Then they were among them.

The Lady struck at the first slayer with a perfect Makashi sweep that should take the monsters legs, and set it up for the following downward killing blow. Xxys' blades where a whirl of crimson precision, and calling on his centuries of training, he instantly took the left hand protective postion to guard the Ladies flank. He then unleashed a rapid series of slashing attacks. The first was a fast swipe aimed to remove the head of the shadow slayer closest to him on the right, while his left hand swept at the second shadow slayers legs in a mirror of the Lady Apollyon's Makashi Form. If he connected with his attacks he would decapitate the first specter, and disable the second enough to ply his own finishing blow.

They had to end this quickly and try to afford the rest the most amount of time to figure a way out of this deathtrap.



Form II - Makashi: 4
Jar'Kai: 4
Saber Barrier: 4


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

Dorrian Shadowsun

Active member
IC: Dorrian Shadowsun

~The Aximand~ Hangar Bay


Dorrian rushed down the halls of the Aximand after crashing out of the bed he was laying on, cursing himself for being late to the party. He had been lightheaded after everything that had happened, chalking it up mostly to adrenaline wear down and the drain on the Force that Typhojem had inflicted. He was still pulling on his boots as he stumbled into the hallway, headed for the hangar, the alarm to leave still ringing in his ears. He slid into an intersection and took a hard right and slammed into the opposing wall, knocking some of the wind out of him. The most direct path to the hangar took him by a mess hall, causing him to salivate at the thought of food. His heavy footsteps slammed into the polished floor as he pushed himself as hard as he felt able, combined with the growling in his stomach made for a comical sight as he tore down the halls.

The memories of Coruscant were still tearing at the dark spots in his mind, shredding the veil between reality and beyond. He shook his head as he turned another corner, nearly running over some poor corporal that he didn't see. He waved an apology as he kept moving, the thundering of his footsteps well preceding his arrival, luckily enough the main door was open so he didn't have to slow down much. He slid past the door and had to grab the frame to stop himself from falling, caught himself on one hand, and darted through it. The rest of the crew was already aboard the transport and ready, Omegon stood at the back of the transport tapping his foot, waiting on him. He rushed over and nodded as he ducked into the transport, no words need be said, and found a seat.

“I'm glad I made it on time. My humble apologies for any delays, won't happen again.” His voice grated out in a low rumble, between deep breaths, more in disappointment to himself than to anyone else. Breathing heavily forced the words to come out raspy and ragged. Dorrian tugged on his armor as he caught his breath, making sure he still had everything. Everything seemed in order as he waited for the shuttle to transport them to the fight.


@Rayge @Darth Dreadwar @Tobbi Airskipper @Kint Dranlor
 
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Tobbi Airskipper

Active member
Shock and disbelief.



Final Design.png

IC: Tobbi Airskipper

Sith Imperial Garrison, Axum

Tobbi felt the Aximand above, and his excitement grew, his heartbeat a skip faster, his relief exploded through the roof.

The Aximand was here!

The Aximand was here!

The realization turned to cheers of absolute celebration in the echo chamber that was Tobbi's cranium as his eyes welled up; there was a chance that he could live, that his story could go on...

All Tobbi needed to do was focus on that barrier he wanted to construct, to make it so that he and Cruella would have enough time to escape. But alas, Tobbi found that he couldn't even make the objects he desired to budge. Tobbi's scream echoed throughout his mind, his frustration a gale of self-anguish. How could he, the great Tobbi Airskipper fail? Was something going on with his body? Was the force failing him? Or vice versa? Like a faceful of ice water at the beginning of the morning, this conundrum shocked Tobbi to his very core, awakening from the great dream, the great slumber, or maybe the grand illusion.

There was no time to think nor lament once more; the enemy was here or at least was still marching; Tobbi could hear the rumbles of one of the great wonders of the galaxy. The marching was unbearable, complete torment in Tobbi's ears as what sounded like the metallic marches of madness bringing impending destruction. Tobbi didn't know what to do or what to say. What if his powers failed him again? What if he was indeed now impotent. Tobbi gritted his teeth; the smart thing to do would be not to touch anything and let the veterans handle this. After all, Tobbi was young; he was new to this conflict, there was a chance that he could die before achieving anything.

And if that were to happen, Tobbi would go down in history as a perpetual loser, a spoiled brat who couldn't stand on his own and needed his father's wealth and achievement to be something, to be someone. Tobbi heard the whispers, the hushed gossip, the sly snickers, and the exasperated sighs.

Lies!

All of it was lies!

Tobbi was a beast, a warrior, and he would prove it to everyone and anyone. Tobbi was going to be great, as the prophecy foretold. Tobbi's prophecy, he needed to rebuild everything, he needed to become stronger, he needed to fulfill his true potential. Tobbi knew that he would and could become so much greater, so let it be written and let it be done. Tobbi Airskipper's destiny of greatness would start here, and there was no escape from destiny. Something which Tobbi had a near-religious and passionate view of, all of which was instilled into him by his father, Devron. Tobbi may or may not still want approval despite Devron lying cold in his unmarked grave.

Tobbi channeled the force into legs and aimed to leap on top of the barracks; using the force should be easy, this task should be easy, so Tobbi hoped that his skills would remain valid, and with one great heave, Tobbi tried and tried to leap above the barracks. He was desperately hoping to prove to himself that he was not, in fact, useless, impotent, nor a eunuch in regards to the force.

TAG: @Darth Dreadwar @Dorrian Shadowsun @Kint Dranlor @Rayge

Powers used: Force jump - 1
 

Jen'nu

Legendary Member
Moderator
Dark Council
Chapter XII: The Hole in All Things
IC: Ānhrā Māhnîu.
Location: Entering hyperspace, Kamat Krote hyperlane, near Bosthirda.

Darth Kain’s Theme:


The thunder of a beating heart, the friction of flowing blood, pulsed through his being with a predatory roar. As the sapphire strings of hyperspace sprinted across the spread of the cockpit viewport, his own mind was set to racing. It had certainly not been an illusion or hallucination; his cerebral receptacles registered the change flawlessly. They had not logged a single movement from his most crucial organ since that fateful day, where the chains of mortality had been shattered. It should not happen, should not even be possible, but here it was.

hearts-hearts-35445750-240-320.gifYet the strike was lonely in its singularity. With the same alacrity as its arrival, it withdrew, leaving only an empty void, devoid of sound and sense. And that abyss seemed somehow deeper, wider than before. As if a star had flared only to wink out, the universe around him seemed darker and grayer than before the beat. A new impression of dull drear folded in around him. The sensation sent his mind wandering, searching for reasons.

He immediately discarded the idea that another cosmic cataclysm had occurred in such short order. It was too soon, and also far too small in scale. Could the heartbeat and the accompanying feelings be some unforeseen consequence of his spectral summoning? Profoundly unlikely given its nature.
From seemingly empty aether emerged a third possibility. Was he feeling some variation of guilt or shame for abandoning the Hesperians? His mqaaq’it rolled in their sockets instantaneously. They had chosen their fate, and he had given them their judgment. There would be no escape from the destiny that he ordained.

Yet the possibility would always exist that he might not have the option of returning to reap their souls. Without his power, their next lives might never come. The completion of himself would thus not be fulfilled for some time. But time was something he would have plenty of, should he survive the oncoming onslaught. In order to do so he would have to reach Dromund Kaas and its Dark Temple with all haste. And thus some tiny fragment of him would die with the Hesperians, until they were reborn in future fire.

Yet the clammy stir remained. The fact that his heart was beating would have to mean that Darth Drear’s Murakami concoction had somehow been neutralized, even if only momentarily. His molecular manipulation of soma and anima alike was infallibly meticulous, so it was not a result of such an error. His research into the medical records of the Galactic Empire had yielded significant insight into a bioweapon remarkably similar in effect to his elixir of eternality. A particular point of peculiarity had been the supposed antibodies that could counteract it at certain stages. He had obviously studied them, even synthesized them, but producing them actively here and now would require a conspicuous effort, one he would surely notice himself undertaking.

IMG_7920.jpgSo what if the potion’s effects were not truly permanent? Could this state of undeath eventually wear off, with this first lapse as the first sign of a gradual decline? Some immortality this was, if it would only last him a few years at most. The dull thud of excruciating enzymatic energy from the encasing orbalisks suddenly felt far less comforting. Should his body’s supertemporal faculties diminish, their use would not remain safe. Oh well, the critters had proven far less useful than he had hoped.

Disregarding the presence of 114D, his outer robes were flung off into a heap on the floor. And without so much as a bodily flicker, the Vor’cha stun stick flimmered into his palm. Caressing it with armored fingers, he pondered the lengthy and meticulous process he was about to undertake. It would perhaps be liberating, or even relaxing. And yet the sense of scabrous space opening around him persisted.
But it would be filled.
He would have it all.
And so he called upon his will.



Powers used:
[NO ROLL REQUIRED] Dimension Shift - 3 (Summoning the Vor'cha stun stick).

(TAGS: @Darth Dreadwar, @Darth Sedicious)
 
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