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

Darth Sedicious

Member
Moderator
Dark Council
Jedi Council
IC: Darth Sedicious
Location: Aboard the TIE Reaper


He rised, taking a long step over his cloak, long since tossed from his form. He spent some time recuperating, resting, and in that time his twin sorcerer, Anhra Mahniu, had been killing off the orbalisks that sprawled his form. Sedicious, after wrapping his cloak over one and setting it into a storage space, opened his mouth to inquire, only to be met with the stark visual of a pale corpse, dropping to the floor. He rushed to his side, raising his serrated arm to check his pulse before pulling away in rank anger of his own stupidity. No medical equipment aboard could affect the present situation. But Al’Zhaelor, as had called himself, lay without protection, protection he would likely eventually need.
“114D, is there any armor in storage? Set the ship into autopilot and check, but be fast.”


He stood, displacing the scintillating frost forming in the path of his gelid miasma, a blanket of frost settling on the snowy flesh of the lord beneath him.
‘What happened to you,’ he thought.
A vile train of thought began to form, of the various machinations he could set in place due to such a circumstance. But he hadn’t the desire potent enough, only a passing morsel to indulge on.
He heard a snap redolent of a glacial crack as he straightened out his back. It was normal, but Sedicious never got used to it. Lamentably, his Force reserves have been repeatedly emptied and refilled today, in a span of such a short time that he might have collapsed without his prior savage self-training. And yet again he would have to immerse himself in the Force.
He activated Force Channel yet again. With such foul fortune following them, he sought temporal clairvoyance. His presence began to blur, before becoming an incomprehensible sight himself. He plotted his course along the flow of the Force: 20 minutes in the future, then an hour, before returning for a time.


Powers Used:

Force Channel - 1
Flow-Walking - 10 (attempting to see 20 minutes in the future, then an hour in the future)

_____________________________


Tags: @Darth Dreadwar, @Ānhrā Māhnîu
 

Omegon

Well-known member
IC: Pythonus

Location: Forges within the Aximand’s middle decks


Deep cold and ancient darkness seemed to emanate from the force mask as Pythonus set it aside, seeming to suck in light and energy rather than exuding it. Reattaching the gel padding, he placed it beside the helm it was designed to fit inside. But, this helm would not do. It had not been forged in flame and blood as Omegon desired. It was effective, certainly, but not do for the masterpiece that Omegon desired his armor to be. And so, it was set aside. Perhaps it would be scrapped for parts or repurposed for some other task, but for now it was no longer needed.



Beginning with the cast he needed, he poured the molten durasteel, heated in the viscous lifeblood of slain foes, into the die. It hissed and sparked, sending flames dancing and light jumping. As the metal pooled and began to cool, Pythonus lifted a barrel of sanctified oil and blood and poured it down over the metal. A massive cloud of hissing steam burst forth to envelope the armor and the air above it, nearly scorching Pythonus’s eyebrows from his brow. But as the scent of vaporized incense wafted from the now-cooled metal, Pythonus reached out and lifted it, undeterred by the previous heat. Dumping the pieces onto the table from his insulated gloves, he took the first piece to a forging press, a set of metal strips that were designed to form the frame of the helm, hanging the armor plates off of the outside.



Each strip was run through the press, carefully handled and turned by the delicate touch of his experienced hands, forming the curve of the helmet into a grid, each piece slotting together into a grid shaped frame of the helm. Grooves and cutouts along the entirety of the frame were carved out to make room for the electronic devices and other plates that would eventually be slotted and then welded onto the armor, and with a chisel and hammer, began embossing and carving glyphs, runes, and ancient Sith symbols into the shining metal. Again, like those of his pauldrons and shoulder pads, these were designed to amplify his mental abilities and force connection, linking him to his armor as if it were a second skin and acting as a nexus in the force for him.



The cheek plates were taken next, taken and hammered into a curving shape to follow the contours of Omegon’s helm. The vox grille on the helm was left to the side, however, as Pythonus still had more improvements to make upon it and the rest of the electronic systems before they were installed. Each cheek plate was carved both inside and out, with the inside covered in hexagramatic power amplifying sigils, while the outside was adorned with ancient Tionese lettering and symbols of three headed serpents, arcing and swirling patterns of hammered songsteel delicately inlayed into the surface. Piece by piece he worked on it, placing first the cheek plates on the frame, and then the top of the helm, slotting it over the rest. A tall crest, forged of alchemized and anointed metal adorned the top of the helm, and around this swirled crystiline jade dragons, delicately formed and wrought with an artisan’s mastery. The symbol of the Aleph null, the infinite yet finite, everything and nothing, beginning and end, adorned the helm’s crest, and the hydra’s eyes seemed to glow with power.

Tags: @Darth Dreadwar
 

Darth Dreadwar

Active member
Immortalis
GM Update Part I
Responses due Tuesday night

IC: Cruella Vandron
Outside Sith Garrison, Axum

What are you doing, Airskipper?” Cruella snapped. “Trying to live up to your name?” The young acolyte was attempting to jump onto the roof of the nearby barracks; emphasis on attempting, as it was more of a scrabbling hop than a leap, the soles of his shoes scraping the permacrete wall of the drab, squat building as he fell back down. He had gotten no more than a couple of meters off the ground.

“Don't try and get up there,” she sighed. “You'll just attract their attention, right before we get off th–Bordst!”

All hope that they would escape unseen faded, as the Devaronian reached out towards the distant army of shambling brass statues, propelling wet rocks, dripping water from the river whence they came, towards the front line of the column. Three of the abominable automatons stumbled as the rocks impacted, flaking rust, and at once the heads of the loathsome statues swivelled, lifeless eyes staring across the tens of meters of mud and grass between the embankment and the landing pad to bore into Cruella's own.

“Shavit,” she hissed. The majority of the enchanted soldiers were yet occupied by the cannon fire from the Aximand, great bursts of plasma kicking plumes of dirt, geysers of steam and shattered brass shapes into the air, but at least a dozen were drawn now to the landing pad, pikes extended as they marched forward, undeterred by the chaos around them. “Come on, come on,” Cruella said, eyes darting between the advancing soldiers and the Vassago-class shuttle diving from the belly of the Aximand towards them.

It took entirely too long, that circling descent, each second feeling like a minute. The clanking grew louder, audible now even over the reports of turbolaser fire as the soldiers drew nearer, and then the Legatus straightened and slowed to a hover, and with landing gear extended, began to touch down upon the tarmac ahead. “Go, go!” Cruella shouted, already racing for the shuttle before its boarding ramp had lowered, as vapours jetted from the underside of its hull; the soldiers were only ten meters away, now, and the Legatus was nearly equidistant!

Inside the squatting craft, Teracotus shouted. “Get the ramp down! Let's go! Let's go!”

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

OOC: For his usage of Force Jump, Tobbi rolls a 15 + 1 against DC 10, and succeeds. The Effect Roll is 1, the weakest degree of success, and Tobbi is only able to jump a meter or two, not nearly high enough to reach the roof of the barracks.

For his usage of Telekinesis, Bordst rolls an Attack Roll of 12 + 1 against minor brass infantrymen with Difficulty Classes of 10, and succeeds. The Damage Roll is 2, and several (arbitrated as three) of the brass soldiers have their HP depleted to 18. More powerful brass soldiers are unaffected, as the attack fails against their higher DC.





IC: Necro Solaar
Fountain Palace, Hapes

Whether by virtue of Dhe's hypnotic powers or surprise at seeing the Queen Mother they had just assassinated appear in front of them, the Twi'lek sisters were a hair too slow, and the beskar arrows, notched, aimed and loosed from Traya's bow with astonishing alacrity greater than any repeating blaster, hit their marks with dull thuds.

The Twi'leks gasped with the impact, and at once fell towards the marble floor; even gravely injured, they had the wherewithal to twist their bodies such that they did not impact the ground shaft-first, landing on their sides so the arrows did not sink in any further than the two inches they had already.

Were it not for the synthweave vests they wore, capable of absorbing a vibroknife or any conventional projectile, the arrows would have surely killed them instantly. As it was, blood was rapidly spreading from where the beskar had pierced the material, frayed, fibrous black threads saturating red. Grunting, the sister on the left half-rolled onto her back, revealing a blaster pistol already pointed at Traya's centre of mass, barrel shaking. She squeezed the trigger with the almost preternatural reflexes of ingrained instinct, discharging bolts of scorching crimson towards Traya's chest, yet not even a spurt of adrenaline and years of experience could overcome the limitations of biology, as her body, labouring with a punctured lung, began to betray her. The shots went wide, plasma peppering a nearby pillar.

The sister on the right was fumbling at her belt, suddenly nerveless fingers desperately attempting to unhook a thermal detonator.

Paid assassins were hardly suicidal fanatics, so Necro could only surmise that the Twi'lek was attempting to distract them from her sister, buying her time to get in a lucky shot. Quite clever, for a girl with an arrow poking out of her breast. Smiling, he stepped towards her, pallid hand outstretched with every intent to push the arrow deeper, and out the other side.

TAG: @Darth Traya

OOC:
Darth Traya fires beskar arrows at the Twi'lek sisters, rolling an 18 + 19 + 10 against DC 10, and succeeding. Damage is 6 + 1, depleting their HP to 3. Dhe attempts Hypnosis, rolling a 5 + 10 against their DC, and succeeding with an Effect of 4.
 

Omegon

Well-known member
Ω Omegon Ω

The Surface of Axum



The shuttle rocked in the turbulence as it neared the ground, jostling Omegon’s shoulders in their straps and knocking him into the men on either side of him. Without opening his eyes, he spoke to the pilot. “Keep the engines running and barely set us down, I want to be ready to leave at a moments notice and vaporize these brass soldiers without exhaust.” With that, he switched off his comms and went back to planning, peaceful in the eye of the storm.



All around him, men slapped magazines into weapons and checked armor straps, mounting cable launchers to guns and preparing explosive devices, and yet Omegon did not move. They chattered back and forth, exchanging both crucial information and meaningless anecdotes with equal rapidity, and yet Omegon did not speak. His hulking silhouette sat alongside the massive frames of Shadowsun and Rayge, making Terracotus look fragile by comparison, even in his armor plating. Omegon didn’t know if Rayge or Shadowsun were speaking, and right now he didn’t care. They all knew the plan, and they would all be ready when the time came. They had all been briefed. The soldiers would open fire into the army, aiming for knees and pouring concentrated fire into the foes in coordinated volleys. If the Sith were dragged down or couldn’t reach the shuttle, they were to be shot with cableguns, dragging them out and behind the shuttle. And, If the opportunity came, they were to fire their cableguns at a brass soldier and bring it with them, dangling a few dozen feet below the shuttle back to the Aximand.



His jaw tightened under his helm as he felt the ship judder once more, and he thought of the terrible fate that had befallen the garrison of the planet. Behind his eyelids, his eyes fluttered with motion as he tried to imagine what might have happened. Surprise would have been the first response, astonishment most likely. But if they had possessed competent leadership, Omegon felt certain they could have turned the tide. Instead, the Sith had fled out of panic and left the soldiers leaderless to die. A fools move, losing resources for virtually no reason. It would have been far wiser to fall back, re-evaluate, and then counterattack. But now, the city was a wasteland, and they were forced to perform a rescue operation. And, Omegon hoped, capture a specimen.



The shuttle slowed, nearing the ground, and the chatter died in the cabin in an instant. They all knew what was about to happen. “Rayge. Shadowsun.” Omegon’s eyes snapped open, seemingly aglow with jade energy. “Let us bring terror with one hand, and hope with the other.”



The door slammed down, and Omegon burst forward, standing on the ramp and firing into the mass of metallic soldiers over the heads of the fleeing Sith. The brass statues were moving at a slow walking pace, so if the Sith ran, they should be able to reach the shuttle without issue. “Keep the shuttle ahead of the brass soldiers,” Omegon said, his words heard only by the pilot and crew as they were spoken through the comms. “If they get close, just pull forward at the minimum speed required to keep ahead of them.”



Dropping from the ramp to the ground, he stepped to the side to keep a clear firing arc at the advancing brass soldiers without putting the incoming sith at risk. He didn’t stray too far from the ramp, however. He had no intention of being left behind.



The sunfury flared in his hand time after time as he fired, launching disintegrator rounds at the faceless ranks of soldiers, undaunted by their numbers or appearances. He aimed for their torsos at first, attempting to gage his weapon’s effect on the enemy. A shot from a disruptor would vaporize a man in a single shot. But if some unique sorcery protected them from being killed, he would switch to firing at their knees like the rest of his crew, aiming as they did to slow down and inhibit the advancing statues rather than kill.



“My Lady!” His voice called out to Cruella Vandron and the two acolytes over the commotion of battle. “Your shuttle awaits, unless you and your compatriots prefer dismemberment?” He drew Ignis from his scabbard with a burst of flame, the flickering tongues of fire dancing along its length burning at temperatures that would melt even brass like butter.



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






IC: Pythonus

Location: Forges within the Aximand’s middle decks



The helm plate complete, he set about the creation of the Vox emitter. While he already had several standard audio emitting devices, he had special plans for this particular one. It could not be completed now, not without the help of Omegon and another member of the survivors of coruscant, but it could at least be prepared for their arrival. Carving another slice into his hand, he anointed the metal of the emitter and set about modifying the technology within. Tearing out what was already there, he began to etch arcane symbols in place of circuits, energy channels in place of wires, and pieces of crystal in place of batteries.



Each copper wire placed into the emitter was anointed in sacred oils, blooded, and twisted into patterns of power. Runes of sound and amplification covered the device, and through steadiness of hand and strength of will, the communicator was reconstructed, the casing rebuilt, and the mounts readied to be placed back within the helm from whence it came.



The device was designed to intake sound and force energy in one side, and output the same on the other, only amplified and combined. Hopefully, once completed via the aid of one of his companions with the ability of force bellow, it would be able to enable the user to shout into one side and emit a force bellow out the other, should the wearer channel force energy into it. Each piece of technology was replaced with its alchemical equivalent, so that if force energy was not channeled into the vox, it would simply function as normal. But, the crystals still failed to glow with an initial charge. He would need a scream for that…

Tags: @Darth Dreadwar
 

Dorrian Shadowsun

Active member
IC: Dorrian Shadowsun

The Surface of Axum

The shuttle rocked to and fro as they weaved their way toward the lines, the engines racing forced them all to hang on for stability. The plan had been discussed prior to them heading out and Dorrian had been sitting in quiet, smoldering rage pulling on the hatred and pain as he had been taught. He could feel the pressure building within himself, like too much air in a balloon, it screamed for a release.

Sweat had begun t form on his brow and shoulders as he concentrated on holding the burning tempest within himself until the last possible moment.

Just a bit longer ... Once the door opens they're all going to burn

The sweat that had formed on his skin began to evaporate at the same rate it formed, causing him to steam as he sat in his seat, holding onto the strap as they made their final approach toward the troops. He held his eyes closed until he felt the shuttle lurch one last time. The ramp slammed open as Omegon stood to open fire on the advancing enemy troops. Hearing his voice caused Dorrian's eyes to snap open and his body to react on its own.

“Let us bring terror with one hand, and hope with the other.” That was all he needed to hear.

Wrapping his tail around a nearby support the massive demons crimson eyes locked onto the advancing metallic soldiers. They only needed a few moments to get everyone to safety and hopefully acquire one in the process. It may be melted into one solid piece before that happens.LEaning forward and concentrating on the open ground between their retreating troops and the first of the enemies Dorrian released everything he had been holding in.

istockphoto-939698700-170667a.jpg
Viridian flames erupted in a violent, twisting wave of hatred and malice, hissing and contorting as they spread across the front lines of the enemy troops. His only intent was to superheat them enough to cause them to fail in their advancing. WIth enough concentrated heat at their feet and legs, their weight should cause them to contort and collapse, giving the troops the time they need to escape.

~{Powers Used}~
Convection - 3
Pyrokinesis - 3
Concentration - 2
Flamusfracta - 3


Tags: @Darth Dreadwar @Tobbi Airskipper @Oberleutnant Deleritas @Senec Tinople @Darth Kratos @Rayge
 

Tobbi Airskipper

Active member
IC: Tobbi Airskipper


“Come on!”

Tobbi grunted or shouted, depending on what you could consider the gibberish words of Tobbi Airskipper as he attempted to jump on the building. But the attempt left him little more than a flailing man trying to test what he was capable of doing believing that in times of crisis, he would summon great power within his body.

And he did so with… laughable failure, jumping a couple of meters before falling onto the ground, a far cry from his original intent. Cruella yelled at Tobbi, taking his attention away from his futile task. And quickly regrouping with Cruella, bowing his head, “I’m sorry, my lad-“

The Devaronian, who Tobbi didn’t bother to remember the name of, proved to be a more significant liability than Airskipper and infinitely more troublesome as the Devaronian’s telekinetic attack attracted the attention of the brass soldiers. Who now was headed this way with fierce intent.

“Chobbs Knob!” Airskipper exclaimed before hastily turning on his heels, making a mad dash for the Aximand’s ramp. Where a figure stood, a heavily armored warrior, or at least that’s how it seemed. Tobbi was too panicked and too worried about survival to fully take in the mysterious man’s appearance.

But what he did notice was that the heavily clad man was not alone; a scaly and demonic humanoid, steadfast and determined, exited the ship and summoned violent viridian flames that were vexingly vile in every way.

The Aximand.

The Aximand was all that mattered.

Tobbi, at his skill level, couldn’t compete with these two beings and proved earlier that he was unable to help in any meaningful way. All Airskipper could do was live. Be that as it may, still may it be as it may be….

Tobbi had no idea what that meant, but it sounded cool and he repeated it in his head over and over and over. It was his rallying cry, a personal motivator as he wished to escape the brass soldiers who defied all logic and time.

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

Darth Dreadwar

Active member
Immortalis
GM Update Part II
Responses due Sunday night

IC: Darth Apollyon

Tunnel, beneath the surface of Korriban


The wizened features of Karness Muur, wrinkled with the paleogenic antiquity of finely worked masonry, towered over Apollyon as she approached the entrance of the tunnel that comprised his gaping mouth. She chanced one last glance upwards, at the stone lip but inches above the corkscrew of her updone hair, and then all became darkness, as the throat of Muur closed around her in claustrophobic menace, bare, bleeding feet propelling her over the jagged edges of slick, crudely hewn sandstone at a fumbling, stumbling run into the looming passageway of uncharted fate.

Pounding footsteps and silhouetted bodies, pressed tight, surrounded her on all sides.

The decadent pictorial bands adorning the tunnel’s walls were a blur of dim, feverish intimations, imagery of murderous sapient sacrifice and hopeless struggle beneath the cruel eyes of cackling cacodaemons from distantly-remembered nightmares. The path she trod, in all the furious haste of her flight, was darker than what sight alone could perceive, yet she could not shrug the sense she was beset on all sides by some horrible suggestion of prehistoric prophecy, as if the painted stone reliefs and monstrous idols whipping by her panting form presaged the invasion of the present with frightful precision, the black tendrils of putrid, multitudinous powers the threads of ordained fate into whose grasp the survivors of the New Sith Order blindly raced to an inevitable but unknowable confrontation with destiny.

Apollyon was near to the rear of the column of fleeing Sith, just ahead of Draconis and the injured Marcus, and she could feel the encroaching flame behind her no matter how swift her pace, its warmth saturating through her costly scarlet-and-crimson banquet gown as if she were appareled in but the merest négligé of blood-soaked lace. The three shadows were close; she could hear them over the rasping of Xxys’ respirator, the dreadful cries repeating that awful chant: “Tsaiwinokka tsishoyakut! Tsaiwinokka tsishoyakut!” She could feel them, their breath hot upon her neck as they plied their abysmal powers to the hadean fires about them, whipping molten rock and poisonous fumes into a sulphurous torrent of tartarean malice.

The river of flame parted in twain like two fingers, one stream curling towards Hadzuska, who yet tarried in the cavern in the brave stance of battle, the other narrowly missing Nathemus to surge towards Pravum, who, perhaps comically were it under any other circumstance, found himself unable to pass underneath the six-by-six-foot opening of the tunnel thanks to the great height of the golem upon whose shoulders he sat. The torrent was preceded by a blistering wind, arresting the momentum of Hadzuska’s lightwhip and sweeping away the debris he had dared raise against the foul eidolons of darkness, then the full, malefic majesty of the inferno struck home, setting the Myke alight in the gorgonising glare of sheerest agony, his chalk-white skin blackening and bloodying under the unremitting punishment of searing heat. The metallic pauldrons of the golem, screeching as they melted under the assault, provided Pravum some protection, but the cloak of the proud Sith Lord was set ablaze nonetheless, cruel tongues of flame licking the skin from his back like the barbed tips of some smouldering scourge. He would be fortunate to escape with third-degree burns. Hadzuska was not so lucky; lungs and larynx already damaged by Catalyst’s pitiless discipline, he choked on the smoke rising from his own roasting flesh, and amid the noxious and necrotic miasma of hateful magma and vile gases, the Jester fell dead to the ground, skin hissing as it split to dribble bilious juices like meat on a spit.

Skittering across the ceiling, above the fray of Arach’s lightning crackling across the defunct hypergate and the flaming elemental conjurations Thana had left behind, Grievance Vexx was spared fire’s tormentous fury only to fall victim to crueller precision no less scorching. A violently humming lightsaber, flung from the black hand of the armoured ghast approaching beneath, spun through the air in dazzling cartwheels of bleeding brilliance, gouging the giant’s shoulder before receding into the darkness to return to its master’s gauntleted grip. Even if the blow did not loose the cyborg from his perch, the oppressively small opening of the tunnel made further passage through such unique locomotion difficult, and there was precious little time to squeeze or crawl through.

The Lords of the Shadow Council did not tarry as their prey.

The catastrophic noises of such swift savagery only bewrayed the need to flee with the utmost haste, and Apollyon drew forth from her sweat-soaked body the last vestiges of energy, commanding her burning legs to run faster still, with the singular focus to draw away from the slothful sluggards of the rearguard. The growing whine of repulsorlift engines and a flood of silver light caused her to hurl herself to the side, just as the metal carriage of a narrow, cylindrical speeder shot by like a slugthrower round, yet the pace of her sprint did not abate for reason of the interruption, nor did she slow when Mavros’ vehicle mowed down six of the three dozen younglings whose tiny legs were desperately if futilely attempting to keep pace with Kira, Dymos and Zareel ahead. Such an impact would have been nigh-immediately fatal, and not even maternal instinct would move her to throw away her life for corpses. “Get out of the way!” She could only scream out a warning to the Sith further ahead, praying that the younglings’ guards would not take vengeance upon the pilot of the already distant speeder, for she knew the man-shaped blur in the backseat had been Catalyst.

She kept running, heedless of the elbows smashing into her abdomen, heedless of the entangled legs of those around her as careless Sith tripped and fell, breath coming in short, sharp gasps, stabs of pain accompanying every pounding beat of her heart. She kept running, tuning out every sensory scream of protest to focus on the silhouette of Nihl ahead, the broad shoulders bobbing in time with the unconscious body of Volshe in his arms. She kept running, Noxia beside her, not daring a glance back.

A hundred metres ahead, around a gentle bend in the tunnel, those at the front of the group at last came face-to-face with the source of that strange red light Xarxes had first espied. The light had indeed represented distant illumination streaming through a crack in a doorway; a large, circular blast door of undoubtedly antiquarian construction barred their path. The vertical seam of light in its centre betrayed where the great slabs of stone and durasteel parted, too narrow to discern any detail beyond other than the obvious presence of some kind of light source, at least without pressing one’s eye to the crack. Perhaps there was an exit to the surface on the other side–or, perhaps more likely given the light’s greater intensity nearer the top, merely a subterranean halogen positioned at the end of another section of tunnel.

The way was shut, and there was no obvious mechanism by which it could be opened. A crude metal lever lay on the ground beneath a niche within the rock on the right, suggesting the rust and rot of entropy’s relentless march had caused the mechanism to break off, corroding beyond all hopes of restoration in this deathly, unhallowed den of aeon-long corruption.

“What is it, Hesper, what is it?” came the cries, as the surging crowd slowed to a stop before the door, and all its fateful tons of rock and metal. “Volshe? Where is Volshe?” Confusion and panic reigned, as momentum carried bodies forwards, and the whine of repulsorlifts grew louder. “Stop! Stop, or I’ll gut you, Nix! Watch where you’re–aaggh! Speeder!”

Near the front of the column, Marasiah Fel craned her neck, struggling to see over the shoulders of Xiannarr; further back, the fourth Wyyrlok collided with I-Ron, hissing in pain and cursing the darkness around her; further back still, Talon slowed her pace only to flinch away as a fiery animation raced by her right, dogging the footsteps of its conjurer. “Put it out, you fool!” she screamed at the silhouette of Thana. “You’ll fierfekking burn us all!”

And behind them and all around, in the antechambers and ossuaries that adjoined the tunnel on either side, from the stone niches within the walls Voidwalker and Arach so unwisely hugged, the dead began to rise. Twitching and rolling, at first, as if prodded in demented nightmare by each atrocious cry from behind: “Tsaiwinokka tsishoyakut! Tsaiwinokka tsishoyakut!” Then clambering from the racks of their catacombs like prisoners awakening from their beds, that awful cry the bell to which they hastened attendance, ossified feet touching stone with horrific scrabbling sounds that rasped in the blackness. Their tridactyl nails were pared to fine points, their teeth had been sharpened on centuries of corpses, and the empty sockets beneath their sloping, antediluvian foreheads suggested predatory eyes once larger than that of any man. Thus, in the darkness beneath Korriban, where the light of Horuset never reached, flowered the first withered buds of the venomous black tree that sprang from the loins of King Adas, that blasphemous father of wickedness who picnicked on cadavers and drank the blood of the Rakata amid the forgotten deserts of yore.


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

OOC:
For his telekinetic attack against Darth Malleus, Hadzuska rolls an Attack Roll of 8 + Modifiers of 15 + 5 against DC 46, and fails; the debris is destroyed by the flame. For his attack with a lightwhip, Hadzuska rolls a 4 + 15 + 5 against DC 46, and fails; the lightwhip is deflected by the surge of flame.

With the (non-statistical/thematic only) assistance of Andeddu and Hord, Malleus telekinetically directs magma and flame towards Hadzuska, Pravum and Nathemus; Malleus rolls an Attack Roll of 3 + Modifiers of 23 + 10, succeeding against Hadzuska’s DC 30 and Pravum’s DC 35, but failing against Nathemus’ DC 40. The Damage Roll is 1 + 5 + 2 + 3 + 4 + Modifier of 5 for a total of 20 Heat Damage, depleting Hadzuska’s HP from 11 to 0 and Pravum’s HP from 35 to 15. Hadzuska is dead, and a final death post may be written prior to rerolling. (Discuss via PM.)

Hord’s usage of Saber Throw rolls a 12 + 23 + 10 against Grievance’s DC 35, succeeding and inflicting 2 + 3 + 4 + 3 + Modifier of 5 Damage, depleting Grievance’s HP from 26 to 9.

Andeddu's spell completes, with a roll of 3 + 23 + 10 succeeding against DC 35, and an Effect of 4 + 2 + 5 + 6 + 1 + Modifier of 5 allowing for the reanimation of all the non-fossilised skeletons and mummies within the tunnel as Sith Undead.

For her usage of Darksight, Hesper’s power is now rolled against the DC of Andeddu, Hord and Malleus. She rolls a 2 + 21 + 10, failing to overcome their DC, and in the face of such overwhelming dark power, it is difficult to perceive a path to victory.

Draconis is deploying too many Force powers at once for turn-based casting, so there is no need to roll for Psychometry, Force Sense or Concentration (with the Force being unresponsive due to split concentration), but I will roll for his usage of Force Speed with an Augmentation buff. He rolls a 3 + 22 + 10 against DC 10, and succeeds, with an Effect of 5 + 4 + 3 + 3 + 5 + Modifier of 2 + Bonus of 5 allowing for incredibly rapid speed, easily capable of overtaking Apollyon and the rear of the crowd to reach the front of the group near the blast door, if desired. There is no need to roll for his usage of Dark Side Healing as his HP is full, but it can be considered an automatic success for a thematic effect if desired.

I-Ron’s usage of Telepathy rolls an 18 + 13 + 5 against DC 10, and succeeds, with an Effect of 3 + 2 + 2 + Modifier of 3 + Bonus of 3 allowing for his telepathic message to be clearly received by Xarxes, but only vaguely by the combat-distracted Nathemus. His attack with the Sith Illusion rolls a 13 + 13 + 5 against the DC of Andeddu, Hord and Malleus, and fails. Shaitan blows up as it is overwhelmed with real flame, but the Shadow Councillors see through the illusion and are unharmed.

Mavros’ usage of Force Sense rolls a 5 + 15 + 5 against DC 10, and succeeds, with a moderately successful Effect of 2 + 4 + 4 allowing for him to sense the right path through the entrance, but his lack of caring for lifeforms in his way not enabling him to clearly sense the diminutive younglings in the darkness. There is no need to process Thana’s buff of Feed on Dark Side at this time.

Arach’s ballistakinetic attack rolls a 2 + 20 + 10 against DCs 45 and 46, and fails; her projected shrapnel misses the three Shadow Councillors. Her attack on the hypergate rolls a 7 + 20 + 10; this succeeds against the environment’s DC of 10 but fails against the Shadow Councillors’ DC, and although an Effect of 3 + 1 + 5 + Modifier of 2 inflicts moderate damage upon the hypergate, charring the stone archway and rendering its machinery inoperable, no explosion capable of damaging the Shadow Councillors is caused.

Nathemus attempts Mind Trick on the Shadow Councillors, rolling a 10 + 20 + 10 against DCs 45 and 46, and failing; their minds are too strong to influence. Nathemus casts Sutta Chwituskak at Darth Andeddu, rolling a 7 + 20 + 10 against his DC 45, and misses; the bolt of hatred harmlessly impacts the far wall.





IC: Darth Venomis
Mindscape


“Disappointment?” the darkness mocked, lapping at the shores of that drifting island of the mind in hideous black waves of incomparable carnage and half-formed humanoid squander. “I think not, my dear… I think not. In the ignorance of your pride, I have touched you, no matter how desperate your attempts to rid yourself of my power. I have touched all of you, though ye know it not; you are all unclean. Now I shall have you all.” A wet laugh of gurgling pollution and grinning poison oozed forth, wading from that horrid man in white through sloughs of flesh, treading black blood from porous, trypophobic lungs of antiquarian corruption.

With each awful shudder of execrable mirth, the island shook and sundered, as the blasphemous waves of necrotic abomination rose high to smash into the three Sith Lords who found themselves so suddenly and so terrifyingly adrift the black seas of incomprehensible infinity. All that they breathed was shadow, yet in this nightmare, not even the mercy of death could save them from that most terrible, unimaginable sensation of eternal drowning, buried alive beneath a thousand freezing tons of cold, clutching ocean. Down, down, they went, into the darkness of their own minds, lost beneath the waterline of hope and sanity, into the dimly-lit, half-remembered abysses where myth and metaphor were all that remained.

In these spoiled and cadaverous depths of the unconscious, all sense of the present slipped away. No compass of reason could orient one from such clammy and cavernous chasms of memory to the reality of the waking mind. Past, future, dream, nightmare; all were one in Mnggal-Mnggal.

“Empress Volshe, do you wish to take this man as your husband?” A feminine voice pulled Volshe from the darkness. Darth Nihl was looking at her, hand intertwined with her own, still that gentle squeeze of support. She was in the throne room on Korriban, bands of scintillating evening light playing across the jagged black ink of Nihl’s tattooed jaw, leaving his searching eyes, melting into understanding with a slow blink, in a subtle shadow that fell imperceptibly awry. “Empress Volshe?” It was the voice of Sol Kira; she was marrying them.

Nihl smiled, nudging, tones softer than syrup. “Just say I do.”

“Just kiss me.” The obsidian eyes of Darth Apollyon bored intently into Catalyst’s own, hair falling down around her caramel countenance like black tears. There was the sound of liquid trickling; water dripping into water, from the washcloth she had just placed on the side of the bath. Bath. They were in the bathtub together, their first time within Apollyon’s temple quarters. It was a night of flickering flame and distant passions, aching with familiarity, but the shadows were thick and dark, crawling up walls of cyclopean stone faintly but distressingly patterned in dark patches of staining, like ominous marks left on black satin sheets by dead lovers. There was a decadent scent in the air, subtler than the slumbrous fumes of incense slowly wafting from the funerary urns beside the bowls and platters of finished food littering the table, perhaps depredations of damp rot gathering in the dimly-illuminated corners, or perhaps just the saccharine sweetness of Apollyon’s perfume, flooding Catalyst’s nostrils as she leaned in.

She was more beautiful than Catalyst remembered, preternaturally so, as if her beauty was an eldritch abnormality or eerie deformity, for in her flawless features were etched none of the touching imperfections that reconciled one to the subtleties of the human condition. Her lips, painted black, peeled back in a depraved smile, revealing perfect teeth as white and fine as spikes of spun sugar, tongue slick with thirst. “Just kiss me,” she repeated, in tones sonorous as sin, “and we shall become one flesh.” Her black-lacquered nails traced down Catalyst’s bare abdomen towards the water below, her other hand rising to gently pull at the nape of his neck as her lips sought to capture his own. “I want you inside me.”

“Come quickly.” Darth Havok turned, tattoos dripping from his lips, tones fierce as his daemoniacal visage, dark delight and anticipation bleeding from his expression in imminent triumph. "I have the final ingredient! Come, Volcryn, come! We will take the orchid back to camp, and brew the concoction in the tent! Or… perhaps right here. Right now. Come, come!” The burly Iktotchi stretched out a moist, sweating hand, reaching out to Ānhrā Māhnîuu in eager, impatient entreaty, an ancient cup filled with mingled dark fluids in his grip. Behind him, in that dolorous and dusty cloister of the Temple of the Black Son, beneath the malnourished, paleogenic carrion-forests of Yavin, a cracked and light-deprived altar lay in wait, promising desecration and iniquity and the power of impious rite.

“The prisoner keeps the orchid alive... crush the orchid in the beaker... brew... yes, yes, blood... The tubes insert the alchemical mixture into the body… Immortality! Join me, come, take the mixture of the Murakami inside you! Drink of the elixir of eternal life!"


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

OOC:
For his usage of Dimension Shift, Anhra rolls a natural 1, and his sword fails to materialise in the dreamworld (and cannot be retrieved by other means).
 

Darth Kratos

Well-known member
IC: Acolyte Bordst
Sith Imperial Garrison, Axum

"Yesss!," he thought to himself. "it worked!" He'd taken out a couple of the soldiers. His pride quickly turned to dismay as he saw the soldiers turn his direction. The realization that they weren't aware of his presence previously made him seriously chagrined... and more than a bit frightened. He heard their leader's reaction. This furthered his sense that he'd seriously screwed up.

Shake it off, Rayne. Shake it off. He knew dwelling on his failures was just going to get him further into trouble.

Fortunately the shuttle was close-by. It was practically touching the ground. Aboard the shuttle, a figure shouted to them, “My Lady! Your shuttle awaits, unless you and your compatriots prefer dismemberment?” That brought a smile back to his face. And a sense of determination.

The other acolyte had gotten a head-start, but Rayne was determined to give it a go - see if he could overtake him. He put his head down and sprinted, as much as a Devaronian could. He'd never shown any ability for Force Speed, though that didn't stop him from trying to call on the Force, anyway. All that mattered right now was getting aboard that shuttle. The saying is "you don't have to outrun the rathtar, you just have to outrun your friends," and Acolyte Ingh'rayne Bordst was doing his best to do just that.

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

Power used: None
 

Darth Cold

Well-known member
Moderator
Dark Council
The Fire Inside
IC: Hadzuska
Underdelve beneath the Sith Temple, Korriban


The Force had failed him, and the strength of their counterattack was too intense for his lightwhip to get through. As the magma and fire reached him he felt the pain as his flesh burned, and melted. He felt the suffering as he choked on the smoke as he tried to breathe.

But his mind was focused on one thing only. The boy must survive. Please. Survive. Live a better life than I have. And then it hit him. The boy is cursed. Everyone that truly cares for him ends up in flames. I guess I was no different. And with that thought the final thing that could be heard from him was not a scream but one faint laugh as he realized the irony, the first and only time one escaped his scarred face. “Haaa-” And with that, as the laugh took his final breath, he was at peace knowing that he did all that he could for the only person he ever cared for other than himself.


***


IC: Samael
Underdelve under the Sith Temple


The speeder took off like a shyrak out of hell, Lord Catalyst had barely been placed inside when it did. Samael knew not to wait any longer and raced after them. He would stay as close to his friend as he could. He was worried. His Master had told him to escape, to leave with these people, but that didn’t mean he had to escape alone without his friend. He didn’t want to be alone. He had a hard time connecting to people, even though he cared so much. Lord Catalyst, and his Master were the only ones that really seemed to be nice to him. He couldn’t lose them like he lost his previous Masters.

He was raised to be a Jedi. His heart was full of unrequited love. He had made mistakes, and lost people he cared about because of them. He killed his Jedi Master by mistake with fire in the dark of the night. The Sith hermit that took him as an apprentice told him that he shouldn’t close himself off, that passion stems from all emotions including love. Samael took that to heart, the passion that he would use to break his chains would come from love. And then that Master burned to death as well. He had joined the academy and was treated like a freak. That was until he met the kind Lord Catalyst. The kind Lord might not be his Master, but he would protect him nonetheless as if he were.

Samael chased after the speeder, running past, and around the younglings the seemingly insane driver had run over. Poor kids. He hoped the children were ok, but he couldn’t stop. He wanted to make sure his friend was safe.


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

Darth Traya

Lady of the Sith, the Saarai-Kaar, the Dark Sun
IC: Darth Traya III
Location; Fountian Palace, Hapes


Blood stained the marble of the Fountain Palace anew. It was as though the very gleaming, polished stone demanded regular sacrifices of blood to retain its beauty. In blood Aurelia Illium claimed the throne, and with blood Darth Traya would lead it to its destiny. The auras of the two Twi Lek’s collapsed, her arrows found their marks true, but when struck in a vital area the assassins possessed wits enough to not fall on the arrows lodged in their chests.

The twin on the left raised a blaster to fire a bolt, but it missed widely, instead connecting with a nearby pillar and showering Traya with fragments of stone.

“My palace, you little shutta!” Traya seethed, at the trembling assassin. Her serpentine appendages filled the gleaming hall, and twisted with anger. Traya momentarily trained her senses on the left Twi Lek, but the sound of movement stirring from the sister on the right caught her attention. Traya could only deduce from the left sister's defiant actions that the right was trying to pull free a weapon.

What it sort of weapon was, Traya lacked the sensory accuracy to know for sure. There were rumors of Miraluka that were perfectly at ease with technology, and were even able to slice. Ancient tales whispered that Visas Marr once held that talent, but Traya lacked any insight as to “seeing” and understanding technology, nor how it could be weaponized.

But she trusted her perceptions to know this assassin would be the more problematic one. She pulled at the invisible strings of her Hapan noble thralls, urging the hands to aim their blasters and blades, “My beloved guardians, I want every blaster, and vibroblade you possess to destroy the intruder on the left. I’ll take care of the second.” she commanded of her slaves.

Necro Solaar was bending over the assassin to the right as if to resolve the attack, Traya did not know if she could trust, nor expect the stranger to fight her battles, but his presence did cause her to rethink her first impulse, an impulse that always washed over Traya in the presence of technology. To warp the weapon with a wave of entropy, to hear it rust, crackle and degrade, perhaps even fall to dust. But that power was just as lethal to flesh as it was to metal. Not only could entropy backfire and take a toll on her, but could harm the pale stranger.

As scathing, and repulsive as she found Solaar, she didn’t possess any desire to kill him, or more importantly, she possessed no desire to defy her promise to Emperor Dreadwar.

Traya opted instead for a power she commanded more knowledge and control over. She raised her right hand from the bow and manifested a malevolent golden tendril, the same one her illusion conjured previously, but now it was not an illusionary bluff. If it connected to its target, perhaps the assassin's life would drain from her body faster than she could commit her final act of defiance. With a leering hunger, Traya’s blazing tendril surged toward the Twi’Lek.

Powers Used:

Qazoi Kyantuska: 4 (sustained)
Drain Life: 4


Tag @Darth Dreadwar
 

Rayge

Active member
Moderator
Dark Council
IC: Death Knight Rayge Vigör

The Surface of Axum

Rayge sat quietly recalling the dreams that have recently been haunting him, his head resting back against the wall to his back. The screeching and scraping of metal on metal kept him from delving deep into his subconscious, his helmet rubbed against the steel of the wall as the jarring of the landing caused his head to bounce and skip across it.

Switching priorities he tried his best to block out any sounds and distractions drawing on the force preparing for the potential onslaught about to erupt upon landing. Mentally envisioning painful events from his past few years, he stirred his emotions combining hints of sadness and anger attempting to boost his cognitive abilities while plotting his first few moves, trying to imagine every possible outcome.

The ride seemed to grow rougher the closer they got each bump and shake threatening his concentration which ultimately met its demise at Omegon's utterance

"Rayge. Shadowsun… Let us bring terror with one and, and hope with the other."

His words quickly followed by the hissing release of the ramp and the subsequent this of it impacting the ground.

Omegon was the first to react quickly followed by Shadowsun. As the 2 unleashed their own kinds of hell upon the legion of brass figures Rayge slid out of the vessel being careful to avoid his comrades and the storm they were currently raining down on their enemy. Unbelievably agile for his size he quickly closed the ground between him and the targets of their rescue bringing himself between them and the statues.

Conjuring any negative sensations he could muster, even that of the fear radiating off of Cruella and her company he began manipulating the emotions, focusing them into a solid wave of energy. The wave grew in magnitude and temperature erupting down both his arms with the blazes of Mustafar crawling underneath his skin. To assist his comrades with their current strategies he dropped to one knee as he brought his arms up to either side, palms facing the bronze army. Directing the stored energy out of his palms he thrust his arms forward sending out a wave of force energy aimed at the lower half of the front line of hostiles, hoping to knock their feet out from under them slowing the remaining of the militia.

Powers Used:


-Telekinesis (3)
- Force Push (2)



TAG: @Darth Dreadwar @Kint Dranlor @Dorrian Shadowsun @Darth Kratos @Tobbi Airskipper @Senec Tinople @Oberleutnant Deleritas
 

Darth Xxys

Active member
Moderator
Dark Council
Immortalis
'Cry havoc! And let slip the dogs of war!'

(XXYS IC Underdelve tunnel)

“Tsaiwinokka tsishoyakut! Tsaiwinokka tsishoyakut!”

The frightful chant echoed down the corridor and fill the Force with a gathering senses of death. The words were known to Xxys, as was the results of those words utterances. Death was going to catch them all in this fetid tomb.

Run.

That was all he could do now.

Xxys tried to keep pace with Nihl...and the Empresses, She had not stirred as they scrambled down the hall but the press was such that the distance between himself and the Empresses rescuers steadily grew, if even by just a few dozen meters.
Suddenly the air filled with a high-pitched engine whine from behind his postion and Xxys just managed to press himself, and a few children within his reach, to the rough hewn stone wall as a speeder went whizzing past nearly crushing them...a few were beyond his grasp. The sickening thud of the impacts only lasted a split second as the craft ripped through the crowd and the bodies were lost in the stampede of the panicked Sith. Only those that had been charged with the safety of the younglings stopped to gather those that remained and continue their flight. Anger flooded his mind as Xxys came across a small boy laying in the corner of the tunnel who's skull had been horribly crushed, but was still breathing, all he could do was end the child's suffering quickly, he had no healing arts to call on, and absolutely no time to employ them if he did. That Anger threatened to overwhelm his reason, and Xxys bit down on his lip so hard it drew blood. The pain redirected his anger to his immediate survival and as the coppery taste flooded his mouth the boys life ebbed away under his hand.

He didn't delay any further as he could not see any of the other children struck by the fleeing speeder and resumed his own flight down the dark tunnel.
The Dark Lord fairly seethed with anger. It was one thing to flee from death, it is another thing to run others down in that egress, and another thing...entirely...to run down children. He could hear screaming from ahead as the speeder careened into the crowd, their forward progress suddenly stopped at what seemed a dead-end.

Madness.

Xxys continued forward and pushed through to the were Nihl had stopped with the Empress. He could not see Hesper, or the few that had gone with her moments earlier. All had been stymied by the way being blocked, and he could get no closer given the press of bodies. Now the crashed speeder presented another considerable obstacle.

He looked back, hot death sweeping forward on hell borne wings, then forward, scrambled impassable panic.

The literal Rock, and hard place.

He would not perish with his back to the enemy.

"Today is a good day to die."

Xxys turned to face the way he had come, then began advancing at a steady pace. A saber ignited in each hand as he focused all his anger, all his hate...all his fear, into the most deadly of all the magics at his command. The world went away. Just as the slugthrower had reduced the noise of the tunnel to a single tone, the proximity of death had shut out all the mayhem, until there was only he...and the focus of his ire.
Xxys had faced his death before...he was sure he had infact died many times over the centuries of his life, only to somehow live beyond the felling.
No time to ponder the sense of it all...time to survive.
In his minds eye Xxys pictured his targets. He could sense them in the Force, three grim shadows radiating waves of dark energy that were even now reanimating the entombed corpses contained within the temples catacombs. He envisioned tendrils of dark energies slashing across the space dividing him from the three fel figures, even as their incantation reached its zenith. He hoped his timing would be such that the Shadow Councils attentions would be focused on compleating their summoning and not be prepared for his own blindside attack. Xxys' eyes began to blaze with his concentration as he gave sway to the Dark Side and let it flow through his being. A thin, black mist began to coalesce around the assassin giving him the appearance of a conjured demon as he emerged from the back of the fleeing crowd. His eyes shone through the rapidly growing vapor like twin lamps of hell. He needed only a few more seconds to complete his own summoning, then he would give back to these...things, the terror they sought to invoke.

Just a few more seconds.

Force powers used: Dark Tendrils: Godlke- 10 (initiated) Feed on Dark Side- 3 (the dead children would be Xxys' catalyst)

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
 

Omegon

Well-known member
IC: Pythonus
Location: Forges within the Aximand’s middle decks

Eyes fluttered open as Pythonus awoke from his cot. He had been sleeping for a short time, taking a several hour rest to recuperate from his work. Now, however, his time of rest was complete. He had armor to forge and weapons to create, tools of war for the coming conflict.

Having completed the basics of the helm and the shoulder plates, he moved to the next part of the armor: the vambraces, the part of the armor designed to protect his biceps and elbows. While these parts of the armor would be partially covered by the shoulder plates and pauldrons, that did not mean any expense would be spared when forging them. And so, the metal was poured into it’s mold and, once it had hardened, dipped into a vat of blood to cool. The blood bubbled and hissed, heating and burning from the cherry red metal within. Pythonus’s lips moved as he worked, and chanting no louder than a whisper could be heard as he recited the Sith ritual speech for the forging of armor.

The metal was hammered into shape, welded together, and then covered on the inside with runes, just as all the armor was. Energy was to be channeled from the shoulders through the vambraces and into the gauntlets, enhancing and focusing attacks. The outside of each, however, was mounted with a silver heating vent, several interlocking plates edged with silver for flexibility, and an unbroken chain embossment wrapping around the top and bottom of the bicep plate.

On the inside of the left bicep plate, a tiara shaped groove was carved. Into this groove was placed Omegon’s translation amulet, which would wrap around his massive bicep and remain concealed beneath his armor rather than adorning his head. With it, he could read and write ancient sith, a skill he had long been practicing.

In addition to this, at the top of the vambrace in the section covered by the shoulder plate, he placed wiring plugs, designed to carry power cables, enabling each section of the armor to be interconnected and powered, without exposing the power cables to damage. Magnets, designed to hold pouches or dagger sheathes, were placed under the surface of the vambrace outer layer, and the slots for the electronic components were ground out and prepared for their integration.


Tags: @Darth Dreadwar
 

Darth Nathemus

King of Firefist
Staff member
Administrator
Jedi King
Dark Council
Jedi Council
Immortalis
IC: The Sedriss
Location: Underdelve, what used to be the Sith Temple, Korriban

He'd failed again. Failed to strike a blow to the still oncoming invaders. Perhaps Apollyon was right, and the three Shadows were beyond them all, and perhaps his first and only successful hit on them was nothing more than a fluke that caught them off guard. But whether by sheer luck or the Sedriss' quick-thinking hustle towards the tunnel, he'd narrowly escaped their pyrokinetic assault and the whizzing flight of the speeder. The hulking lich climbed through the opening as quickly as he could. He was quite large and had to duck and weave through the other Sith that were so annoyingly unhelpful. The dead were coming, and the invaders did not stop their assault. If the Sith did not move quickly, they'd soon join the ranks of the reanimated dead.

//Failure is not an option. I may not be able to strike a blow to these interlopers again, but I can help us push forward. I can help us survive.//


Nathemus had to keep moving. He was taller than most and could see the curious red light ahead. Hopefully that meant daylight. There was no time to waste, yet their seemed to be many oddities taking place. Lord Xxys was running but in the complete opposite direction. Curious as it was, what was stranger is that the greater mass of Sith had stopped short. He kept moving forward. He pushed past Voidwalker and Arach, Thana and the egg supplier, his Apprentice and the one now called Wyyrlok, perhaps the last of that dynasty. As he drew past I-Ron, he responded to the vague telepathic communication while tapping his left hand against his breast, activating the Healing Talisman housed in his armor with the hope of restoring some of his drained vitality. //Apprentice, I heard your voice but could not make out words. Keep pressing forth and just stay alive.//

Cutting the telepathic message, a wave of thoughts flooded the mind of the Dark Lord. This was not so dissimilar to the precarious position he'd been placed in three years earlier. Then, he was in the underdelve of one of the many Sith Tombs in the Valley of the Dark Lords. After being drained and left for dead in a side cavern not unlike this tunnel, he survived and escaped. The difference arises as the Sedriss was not responsible for his escape. He had no idea what got him out of the Tomb and allowed him to wake up in the medbay on the day of the fateful "learn to lose" lesson.

Even now, the former Emperor's lessons rang true within Nathemus' mind. Maybe now was one of those moments. Though the army above was likely decimated, the three Shadows were indeed beyond them. The Sith were never meant to win, but if they could lose properly, they could escape. He pressed on still, drawing near to the closed blast door ahead of them and in a fleeting moment, he was thankful to see his old friend, Lord Xarxes, ruler of Arkania. Unfortunately, now was no time for pleasantries.

Not only was Xarxes present at the front of the pack, but Xiannarr and the Butcher were as well. It was said that she had prodigious power in telekinesis, and all of her power would be needed here.
"Xarxes, Hesper, Xiannarr, now is the time to lose. We can't beat these three invaders, but if we can escape this tunnel, that is what we must do. Help me bring down this door!" As he'd addressed them both, he raised his gauntleted left hand and curled it into a fist, hoping to Crush the door to bits and allow for a quick funnel of escape to materialize for the now stuck New Sith Order.

Powers used:
Telepathy: 5 (to talk to I-Ron)
Healing Talisman (2-point Dark Healing effect) (self)
Force Crush: 4 (target is blast door)

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

Volacius

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

If anyone had bothered to gaze upon Darth Volacius as he trudged deeper into the tunnel beyond the mouth of Karness Muur, such individuals might ponder to themselves whether the Sith Master’s eyes were engulfed in a literal blaze, or merely burning with the unquenchable thirst for revenge brought on by incalculable loss. Of course, there was only one such person who would care to entertain such trivial considerations. Perhaps, if they were all still enjoying their banquet in all its hedonistic splendor, pretentious, self-important grand-standing and endlessly corrupt political manoeuvring, others might have bothered to examine the Admiral’s tempestuous mix of rage and sorrow, but the banquet had long since come to its catastrophic end. It already felt like it was a lifetime ago.

Had it even been an hour?

The sounds of frenzied horror echoed through the macabre stone walls from behind him, followed quickly by what could only be described as a stampede of sweat-soaked desperation that matched their earlier retreat from the temple itself, and prompting The seething Mirialan Sith Master to realize that he had failed to keep pace with Xarxes, Hesper, and Xiannarr. Volacius’ anger flared once more, this time stoked by frustration that he had allowed such a lapse in concentration. If the fleeing Sith slamming against the broad musculature of his forearms were anything to consider, it was clear that the danger posed to the Order had not been entirely defeated by Kain’s sacrifice, much to his own chagrin.

As Nathemus surged past him, Volacius resolved to follow, pushing and shoving against anyone who stood in his way as he struggled to keep up with the herculean Sith Lord. Arriving at the end of the tunnel only a few seconds after the Sedriss, the Mirialan Master caught something about a trio of invaders that could not be defeated. Did Dreadwar, and Cruor survive Kain’s fury? Volacius wondered.

Irrelevant. Nathemus was right, their focus should remain on getting past the door blocking their path, and then to escape the Force-forsaken homeworld of the Sith. Years ago during the early days of his apprenticeship, a younger Volacius plagued by prideful naïveté and self-righteous delusions of honour had sparred vigorously with his new master, the man who had yet to reveal himself as the Beloved Prince of the Stars. With but a fraction of the awesome might at his disposal, Lord Kain had effortlessly swept him aside, leaving the eager Sith-hopeful at his mercy and commanding him to yield. Though an outside observer might have written off that training session as insignificant in the grander scope of the Mirialan’s ascension to the rank of Darth, Volacius considered it a defining moment in his life. That fateful day, Kain had taught him one of the most valuable lessons of all: Survival was more important than anything else. Rather than give in to his boiling rage and commit suicide in a fit of thoughtless vengeance, Volacius would escape.

“My Lord!” Volacius called, trying to make himself heard over the cacophony of voices crowded behind them, “I will assist you!”

Sheathing his sword, Volacius drew his original weapons, Lightsaber and Shoto bursting forth from their hilts to singe the stone floor. As Nathemus moved to strike the door with a Force-augmented punch, Volacius positioned himself to ensure that he stayed clear of the Sedriss’ attack, then plunged both Lightsabers toward its rusted frame, hoping to help weaken it, or even slice straight through if possible.

I will escape, Volacius told himself as he struck. I will survive.

POWERS USED:
Jar'Kai — 4

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

Darth Thana

Active member
IC Darth Thana
Location: Karness Muur Tunnel


Thana could hear terrible sounds echoing as her flame protectors took their spots by the tunnel entrance. Narrowly passing Lord Pravum and a few other sith near him as she made her way into the tunnel after Marvos sped off in a random speeder from the looks and sounds of it. The sounds of bones crunching and blood spraying only be to Illuminated by the one golem she chose to follow her into the tunnel.

Those mixing with the sounds of screams echoed powerfully in the space that the Zabrak was trying to leave behind. Children mowed down, she knew once they made their way into the tunnel with the sith that many would not survive... Not while they were being hunted. Surprise was that one who came in with them was the one that slaughtered them. The smell of blood as it sizzled beneath the steps of the fire golem as it was a few feet behind her watching her back.

The tunnel was narrow enough for her flame golem to slow slightly as so many piled into it seeking safety. The ones that stayed behind knew that they needed to seal the tunnel if the three sith Lords attempted to follow. Anyone stuck behind would be sealed away to fight for their lives.... it would be their choice in the end. She knew that Mirtis had stayed behind Is almost in a trance-like state, she knew the red scaled skinned trandoshan needed to move be killed instantly.

Thana was keeping as steady of a pace as she could watching some collide into each other but she had not seen as Talon slowed her pace flinching away as a her animated protector raced by past her right. Thana was the footsteps in front of it as she heard the red and black colored sith screamed at the Zabrak Master. “Put it out, you fool!” she screamed at the silhouette of Thana. “You’ll fierfekking burn us all!” Darth Thana had grit her teeth as she knew exactly who she was speaking to and about. Between the exhales of air she yelled back "Make yourself useful and play bait you pathetic Tailhead!" In anger she would attempt to conjure a small ball of flame in both of her palms as a weapon, almost ironic if Talon attacked her. She would indeed burn but Thana was more skilled then to burn everyone. The flame would sit in her palm, she imagined it already like it usually felt. Sitting calming against her skin...

The Sith Master picked up her pace more attempting to make a clean break away from the trash that decided to speak to her about her golem. The warmth of the fire was a comfort for Thana who had a strange affinity for the power since she could wield it. The thought of her lonely times creating small dancing flame that later took form. To what she was able to create now, a being of pure flames willed to die for her. The memory was suddenly broken as she remembered where she was, not the lonely acolyte and apprentice that was once "Gemi". She was strong and would attempt to live on and gain more power rather than die in this tunnel. Thana was a more mature and forceful figure than the one who first stepped foot into the academy...

Powers:
Pyrokinesis -2

original.jpg

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

DarthFeros

Active member
Moderator
Jedi Council
IC: Darth Feros
Underdelve
Korriban


Feros ran. He ran even as the speeder sped past, the dull thwonk of durasteel meeting flesh and bone as it plowed over the helpless youths.

"Well, that was probably less painful than what those three back there would do to them." He thought.

"Probably a more merciful fate. All they're doing is slowing us anyway." The man trapped in his head responded.

Feros didn't have time to argue, he was trying to work his way to the front, where it seemed things had stopped abruptly. They couldn't stop here. They'd be hewn and spread like chaff in the wind. They needed to keep moving. He could see Apollyon up ahead, and he could feel her panic excreted into the Force. He could see Arach blasting forks of blue-purple lightning into the tunnel, and that reminded him he was still injured. As he shoved his way forward, he focused on mending those injuries with the Force, the one and only light side technique he actually knew.

"Apollyon, what the hell are we stopped for?" He asked as he reached the front of the tumultuous column, slowing from his near sprint. He'd ignored the elbows to the side and stepped on toes. And then he saw it. The level was snapped off the door mechanism. They were trapped.

"Like hell we are." He thought to himself.

"If you do that, they'll be able to follow us."

"If I don't, we'll die right here."

Feros looked deep into the door, seeing all the lines and weaves in the Force that held the great slab together. It was almost like the web of a spider, with layers stacked upon layers, all meeting in what he saw as a bright, shimmering point near the center, creating what he knew as a Shatterpoint. Feros filled himself with the Force and reached out, shoving all the stored energy through his fingertip and into the linchpoint, with the sole intent of shattering the door into tiny pieces.


Powers Used:

Light Side Healing - 4
Shatterpoint - 4


TAGS: @Darth Dreadwar, @Arach, @dragonsith13, @Grievance Vexx, @Reiis Invadator, @Drakul_Xarxes, @G.Kn, @Admiral Volshe, @Darth Kain, @Hadzuska_The Jester, @Darth Nathemus, @Darth Xirr, @Darth Solus, @DarthNoxia, @Jihadi Quartz, @Voidwalker, @Ānhrā Māhnîu, @Reatith Blodraald, @Darth Thana, @Sith_Imperios, @Cardun Vrek, @Darth Sedicious, @Helkosh, @Darth Xxys, @Metus, @Catalyst, @Nacros_Telcontare, @corinthia
 
“I've seen the deepest darkness, and wrestled with the gods”

Jean-Pierre Barda



IC: I-Ron-Butterfly-Traya and Apprentice Karin Welko.


The sith stopped at the end of the road, a large and old blastdoor that was put there a long time ago blocked the exit.

The construction of it seemed ancient, as ancient as the bodies that were now, behind them all, moving and having a semblance of life. So ancient in fact that, perhaps…perhaps this was all a stage. Yes, it was all a big plan, a stage and we, the puppets now had to cut their own strings. The bulging eyes of puppets strangled by their strings, the implication that everything lived for the past ten years was just an act and a jest to create this single moment full of keikaku, if God meant nothing but that, a meaningless act to elicit a certain animal response in the monkey brain….

Then what gives anything else, really?

.And the patrons and actors too, are uncertain if the show is through. With side-long looks waiting for their cue but the frozen mask of Dreadwars gaze just smiles.

However, among the pain and eldritch incantations, the antediluvian implications of a grand treachery and a horrible discovery after the curtain rises, I-Ron remains a widow who refuses to cry, not longing for the embrace of cruel machinery.

“I am a prostitute to be delivered to this devilish dervich? Faqir of a false fate that walks in flames and fumbles around the false fools of the sith order. I won't be dressed in garter and a bow-tie, taught to kick my legs up high just to please this Shadow Council.”

She closed her eyes, putting a hand on the old and crumbled machinery. She felt it like a pulse, vibrations of life. Yes, it can be destroyed, yes, it can be done.

Karin gazed at her, knowing the devious smile on the face of her master.

“Kaboom?” she asked.

“Kaboom” Was the response.

One didn't need shatterpoint when something like this was already done millions of times during a course of almost three hundred years. The need for extranatural powers was overcome by the amount of years lived, because experience outranks everything.

She started to make mental calculations, mathematics that only a Shard as fast as she could do. This was not imagination or eldritch invocations, this was pure science driving the creation force of Sith Illusions. Bordering on object creation, imagination made manifest, I-Ron tried to create a kilo and a half of detonite, the right size and the right charge to denote it on the door with as less shockwave as possible, and open a portion of the door behind for them to crose. Just like the ancient republic commandos, but on a slightly larger scale.

"Everyone, get away from this thing!"
Powers Used:

Sith Illusions and Feed on the Dark Side both lvl 3

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

Cardun Vrek

Legendary Member
Moderator
Jedi Council
IC: Darth Mavros

Tunnels, Korriban

BUMP.

BUMP.

BUMP.


I really do despise children sometimes. Were they blind, deaf, or both? Either way, they’re dead now. I just hope Viscretus is still unconscious.

He had made it through the opening into the tunnels, just in the nick of time, it seemed. The crowds were still flowing through the opening behind him, and Lord Catalyst was still convulsing in the back of the speeder. The children…stupid little things. They had gotten in the way. Viscretus should’ve left them in their dormitories; all they were doing was slowing others down and getting in the way, which would likely lead to the unnecessary deaths of those that may have actually been of use to the Order.

They could always find more force sensitives. Wasn’t his fault the current crop couldn’t move quick enough. Trying to rescue them had been a waste of time when they had little. He now regretted going along with it.

If anyone tried to blame him for it, he already had a defence in mind- he was simply following Apollyon’s orders to take Catalyst out of harm's way. Of course, he had been, and still was tempted to leave the unconscious Lord behind, but now that he had furthered the distance between himself and the enemy that was still coming towards them, he could afford to slow down slightly, and so sped down to walking pace.

“Move aside! I have Lord Catalyst in the speeder, he’s injured!” he shouted out, trying to sound genuinely concerned for Catalyst’s life in the hope that a few of the more deferential minded Sith would make space for a Lord.

He could see that the path ahead led to a dead end. A large door that blocked further passage down the tunnels.

You are kidding me, right? CAN SOMETHING JUST GO RIGHT TODAY? JUST ONCE? Are we cursed? Did one of the acolytes accidentally awaken the spirit of the Lord of Bad Luck when they were stumbling around a tomb? Give me strength…

All he could do was continue to try to manoeuvre his way down the tunnel towards the front of the column, hoping no one asked any questions about any bloodstains that may or may not be on the speeder.

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

Dark Lady Makaria

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

As soon as she heard the whine of an engine behind her, Keres threw herself to the ground. It was too packed and the ceiling too low to assume that someone would be driving reasonably. And she was right, as a silvery shape sped over her, still too close for comfort. She heard the wet noise of impact, and knew it was too close indeed. The little one that she'd pulled down with her was fine, but there were several crumpled little forms on the ground.

Bitterness and bile rose in her. Who had the kriffing gall to act that way? Setting her jaw, Keres tucked it away for later. She was untrained and inept enough that she would probably be unable to identify or fight whoever had used that speeder. But it would be good to know for later. Someone who acted like that in a crisis was a poor leader and made poorer decisions.

But all thought was less than action. Lady Apollyon's scream spurred her, and Keres picked up the youngling and ran. At this point, if only one of them survived, that would be enough.

Even running didn't seem to be enough. Keres had to slow down soon enough, though her heart was still pounding. She was very certain that the fight wasn't over, but something was blocking their way, and she was too short to see over anyone's heads. She could hear shouting, though not all the words. A door was in their way? Or maybe there were two doors? She set the youngling down and shuffled towards the tunnel wall. She wanted something at her back where she could look both ways. At least if she died here, she wasn't going down like a coward or a fool.

"What's going on?" she asked the general area, hoping someone knew. This was making her incredibly nervous, especially a the back of a group with the enemy advancing.

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

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