Star Wars New Sith Trials II: Rise of the Hand

Discussion in 'Role Playing Forum' started by Sinrebirth, Dec 31, 2016.

Moderators: Penguinator, Sinrebirth
  1. Mitth_Fisto Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Sep 29, 2005
    star 6
    IC: Soliloquy Combo with Sinrebirth
    Heskal's wreck

    Soliloquy had the end task to achieve, twas true. From a certain point of view, but it did not micro-manage, and perhaps that was why it now was watching carefully, warily, as the droid performed the given task. What kind of droid it was, well that was something it was truly still figuring out.

    The conversation outside though, that continued to also expose intrigue as it listened.

    Which was why he was speaking to Jagall. "A dungeon ship of Jedi and Imperial Knights has been, by my design, crashed into the Zakuul swamp. You are to ingratiate yourself with them, and provide them with a goal; a chance to upend the entire Sith Empire by killing a Triumvir; Darth Haretisch. If you succeed, all the better, but if you do not, I do not expect to be fingered, but I do expect you to survive. I shall protect you as necessary." A datapad appeared in his hands. "Command codes. Mine. I shall be aware of their use, so do not abuse them."

    A thin smile. "And before you ask me why I would trust you, a relatively new member to this Order?" Insipid eyed Jagall. "You want events to move, to hurry, to progress. You want to grow, to become, to show to me and to yourself what you can do." A step forward. "You want change, so that you may insert yourself into it all."

    "And if you betray me, you know you will die. Against Haretisch, his immediate threat is his reach. He is not political. He is just invested in the physical world. In what you can do, not what he can do for him." Insipid lowered his voice, and the rest was lost to it. Still, it had heard enough. Sith, it simply thought with a unified mind, there was little to add beyond that.

    For Soliloquy, simultaneously as that interesting conversation and just as salient was the dark AI came forward. It was a cautious mental thought, clearly understanding how little it understood of the Holocron it had attempted to control. 'To serve an Emperor is a great thing. I would learn more of your Emperor, so I might better serve mine.' Interesting, flattery was where it first turned? How quaint, and decidedly not like the Emperor.

    The AI paused. 'And I would share more of his Grand Design, if you wish to join the Contingency?' Ah, the offer. Soliloquy did not rush. It already knew the answer, but better to obfuscate than to reveal how quickly it could respond.

    Another pause it let draw out. 'What of your mutually opposing pacts with Darth Insipid and Grand Admiral Thrawn?' A slyness entered its tone. This was indeed no simple AI. Yet it was only that, it had revealed it's access to the droids memory banks. That was before the AI and the droid had not been able to erase everything or possibly anything. Intriguing notions all about.

    'Perhaps you truly fall short of Emperor Sidious. The one I knew would not have revealed such assets without a better position to stand upon to a potential ally and possible enemy.' Projecting a small hologram of simple woman in flowing dathomiri robes out of the droids chest to look up into it's eyes it continued in a female voice mentally so no others could hear, 'Do you have such a position? Beyond betraying information instead of helping us conceal it what do you truly offer? As for opposing views, I have none. You merely do not understand the relations that predate the droid you inhabits memory banks. Something I believe Emperor Palpatine would of thought of as well.'

    The Palpatine visage curled into a grin. 'What did I truly tell you? Something you could not have deduced yourself? I thought I was speaking to an equal, not a servant.'

    The Emperor AI addressed the witch. 'I simply sought to be honest in what I have tugged from you.' An upturned hand, shrugged aside. 'We are to be partners, no?'

    'And I have yet to tell you anything of the true Empire, in the shadows of the Unknown Regions... not this pontificating Empire of the Hand, professing stability but serving a nonhumans aims to defend his government.' A liquid shrug beneath its robes.

    'We are in each other's hands, my friend.' An honesty. The AI could potentially cause a great deal of damage to the Holocron, even if by simply drawing its attention at an inopportune moment. Even if Soliloquy would likely triumph in the end, during that time period he could have been destroyed or worse.

    The AI simply waited. It seemed to be enjoying itself.

    'Merely seeing the form of the impression that I am to ally ourselves to.' Came back the simple reply as the woman seemed to look down, studying the very facets she stood upon. 'I am open to serving the Contingency. You know what my deal with Thrawn and his paltry Empire of the Hand is for. What he has crafted here is a good bulwark at the rear of your Contingency so long as he knows his place.'

    A simple pause as she slowly looked up revealing shimmering eyes of yellow as she looked at the Emperor program. 'My deal with the Emperor you know in part from the newest steps since my aid in his liberation. Thrawn for flesh without the limitations of it, and the Emperor for a strong ability of the Force. What would the Contingency offer? Service to another Emperor's wishes that I have already outlived five times before? Or was it four? It is so hard to keep track with how my universes Palpatine kept returning from the grave with fresh bodies to inhabit whenever he died, for a time until his spirit became too thin.'

    A chuckling laugh escaped her lips at this as she waited the AI's reply.

    The Emperor AI blinked.

    'He... returned? We would hear more of this.'

    But it also held up a hand, palm up. 'The Contingency would offer both. The Force and the Flesh. The Emperor's knowledge of alchemy, science and magicks surpasses a simple Chiss and what trickery Darth Insipid employs. You know it.'

    'We were just moved through space at a gesture, twice. I would not underestimate Darth Insipid nor dismiss his understanding of the Force so quickly. . .granted how far we can trust him in these things is another matter. Although his own ambitions are plain.' The woman seemed to sway slightly at this closing statement. All in all she was finding the Darth Insipid a rather zounderkite individual. Still, she waved it away as the voice of Soliloquy murmured in her ears with the echo of the others waiting for their points to be weighed, measured, and spoken in turn if chosen.

    'You offer us what we have already secured for ourselves. We have these coming perhaps by simpler hands or more devious. Why do you think we request access to the builder of the synth bodies? The honor to meet him? The Contingency would have to do the same. SO I and mine would sit where we already do. Be a credit and tell me. What do you offer to better the deal of my self interests? As of yet a successful task and insured privacy seems the least you could offer even as a show of good faith.'

    Another lazy wave. 'Those guarantees are a given.'

    'Here,' the AI allowed Soliloquy access to the memory algorithms for that titbit about Thrawn. 'Delete them, I have no need for them. Both Thrawn and Insipid are irrelevant to the Grand Design.'

    'You can be irrelevant if you wish, and I shall offer to be forgotten by you, and take my leave at the next access port.'

    Sidious did not even address the Celestial Holocron and its input.

    'If it is indeed so simple to obtain what you wish; and Thrawn and Insipid are simply not going to string you along.' The Sidious simulacrum smiled with rotted teeth. 'It is in my interests for you to regain flesh and Force. So we may both shape reality and not rely upon lessers.'

    'One caveat then.' she simply whispered as she leaned forward almost conspiratorially. 'I am a collection of historians basically. A holocron of many minds that largely although wishing position and recognition, does not truly seek large power. A large ship, fleet, or even just a solar system to study and work from are good enough for me so long as the people are loyal and know their place. Let us add that down the line, as time is a simple thing to let pass for both of us and we shall see what we can do.'

    Altering the memory engrams it slightly removed some details by adding a little of others, but left the gist. It did not a bit of good to act as though such things did not exist. What it left may some day prove useful as well. 'If you were party to anything the Celestial Holocron showed us, this could be a bright future indeed.' She simply smiled as she looked upon the decaying visage. It reminded Soliloquy of the Lorekeeper in a way. How was the ditherer it wondered?

    Sidious smiled, leaning forward also. 'We have an accord; I am very much party to that which you saw.' His eyes glowed briefly, gleeful.

    'Together we shall end this false Empire, and you shall your body, your Force, and your world. Perhaps Odessan, or Rhand?' A growing grin, and a hand. 'Something suitably mythical for you to mine and dissect and discover, no?'

    'Always something new to learn.' The form of the woman simply smiled at Palpatine, revealing her yellowed yet pristine teeth. She opened her hands to the side of her hips, accepting. 'I find we are agreed. Now to our future immediate, let us give Insipid his false privacy and insure the transmitted information can only come from you in your forms or me. Better for both our positions we believe than some officer of the line sharing it to your chosen full flesh leaders.'

    Turning slightly away, her form showing concentration as though listening to too many voices at once, or searching for something needed that was just out of reach. 'We have much to do.'

    TAG: @Sinrebirth
  2. Lady Belligerent •Grand Inquisitor of EUC • Adoptions Coordinator•

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    Jan 29, 2008
    star 7
    Combo with Sinre

    IC: Ike and Zalen
    Obelisk hangar


    The hangar was quickly filling with smoke, and the air quaked with the deep hollow booms of explosives that were being triggered. Zalen had been sprinting towards the shuttle when she felt Ike. What is he doing here?

    Changing directions she hit her comm and opened a channel to Hesper, "Ike is on the ship that just landed." She sounded breathless and was coughing, "I've got to get him!"

    She dodged the few hold out rebels that dared to step into her path. There just wasn't time if Hesper had already set the ship up to self destruct.

    Rushing up the lowered boarding ramp she called out, "Ike!"

    Ike, for his part, was disoriented. His eyes blinked open, and his Moff uniform was, somehow, ripped across the front. To be fair, he chuckled, he had made it somewhat tight. One of the cabin chairs was atop him; he pushed it off and stood; he must have been tossed around at some point. Familiar sensations surrounded him, sharply; Sith he knew. Ike darkly wondered if Bellorum had drugged him again.

    A shrug.

    He had needed to loosen up.

    With a pout, he brushed himself down and reached for his blaster, with its oversized emitter. It wasn't really a blaster to be fair; with a twist the handguard fell off revealing it to be a simple lightsaber, minimalistic to conceal its true intend.

    His pilot was dead - somehow. A hole was in the back of his neck, as if something had been implanted there. Curious.

    Explosions rocked the ship, setting his stance askance.

    Suddenly the ramp was lowering, and a voice snapped out. Ike ignited his blade and spun.

    Zalen quickly dropped and rolled away to dodge the glowing saber of light, "for Force sakes! It's me," Zalen gasped at Ike. There's no time to explain, but we have to go now." She reached out to grasp his arm intending to drag him if needed because time was ticking. The Obelisk was about to be space dust and Hesper would have no choice but to launch without Zalen and Ike if they didn't hurry.

    Ike wobbled in both surprise and with the ship, and as such Zalen had her hand on his arm before he realised. He lurched after her, deactivating his blade and accepting, for once, without Sith wheels within wheels betrayal logic, that he had to run.

    Touching the Force to his feet, and reaching out to help Zalen out should she need it, he pelted onwards, reaching out through the chaos for any congregation of Sith he recognised to guide him.

    "Why are you here," Zalen shouted over the din of muffled explosions. The fools were showing no signs of stopping their sabotage to the Obelisk and the Sith.

    She stumbled when the floor listed abruptly and landed hard. Normally it wouldn't be an effort for her to recover, but she was getting weary from fighting and being tossed around.

    Ike scowled as he too lost his footing, but recovered. 'None of your concern. It's for me and Darth Bellorum.' He smiled slyly. 'Sith business.'

    May as well razz her. He didn't need her anymore to find the others; even through the crisis, and panic, he could detect the Sith team.

    Even in he midst of chaos Zalen noted something was different. Ike was far more bitter than when she last saw him when they left Mortis. It made no sense to her that he had traveled to the Obelisk to meet Bellorum...it was no secret she was on planet.

    Sighing as she reached the boarding ramp of Hesper's shuttle, Zalen tugged Ike's sleeve. "Look, I'm second in command to Lady Hesper," she informed him. "There's no time for a sitrep or conference on what we are doing, got it?" She smiled gently, but Ike needed to know that there wouldn't be ego posturing. Her team was running this and he was a guest along for the ride...if not, then he could hop right off before she sealed the doorway.

    Ike sighed, slightly. Always another hoop to jump through. 'Fine, Zalen.' He went to follow her, mutely.

    Bitter was indeed the word.

    Zalen shook her head, but didn't have time to argue with him. Ike complying without a squabble left her with a bad feeling.

    Tag: @Sinrebirth @corinthia @QueenSabe7 @WookieeRage and all on shuttle
  3. QueenSabe7 Chosen One

    Member Since:
    Mar 23, 2001
    star 6
    IC: Syren
    The Revelator

    As Aryan Graul chose to respond to Syren’s not so subtle taunt, she slid her dark gaze down from the ISIB crest to look upon his face once more. If their mechanical companion upset the politician, he didn’t allow her words to provoke those feelings. Instead, considering the way he was eyeing her, perhaps he was trying to cause her some discomfort in turn. She cocked a brow at the thought, wondering just what he expected of her in response.

    Was this his way of playing games? How… basic, Syren mused, flashing a grin. This one would soon learn it would take something far greater than a suggestive look to goad a reaction out of her.

    Narrowing her eyes and toying with whether or not it would be appropriate to pursue a back and forth right then, Lord Kralkus made the decision for her. The little Sith interjected between them with some words of his own directed at the Night Herald’s new apprentice. She had effectively been cut off from any further exchange at that time, so with a sigh she somewhat reluctantly turned away.

    Finding her seat not altogether comfortable anymore, Syren uncrossed her legs and adjusted her position. The assassin was getting anxious again, now sober and sensing that ever-present urge to be on her feet. She rested a hand over her thigh, drumming her fingers along the hilt of her vibroblade as the only outward sign of any restlessness. To remain focused, she concentrated on the Night Herald’s briefing as an image of a ship suddenly sprung up from her wrist-comm. She raised her arm to examine it closely.

    The Luxury Elite; their destination of the forthcoming mission.

    Committing various bits of information to memory, a picture had already begun to form in her mind of what the interior of this unfamiliar vessel may look like. Syren had been on this type of floating “casino” before and she knew firsthand how ideal a place it would be to get lost in one’s own dark desires and depraved needs. Also for a powerful criminal organization such as The Family to hide and weave themselves into other avenues, avoiding entanglements that would complicate business.

    Too bad they actually had objectives to accomplish. This ship and its offerings would be a tantalizing diversion from… well, everything.

    Scanning the list of the Imperial officials that were transmitted to every comm in the room, followed by the read-out of the small group’s false identities, she found herself frowning. “Bodyguard” was generic enough and a disguise she could easily pull off, but it was being paired with the Chancellor that nagged at her. It had been the inevitable outcome ever since her recent conversation with Haretisch and while she had been looking forward to the change in pace, Syren was abruptly reminded that she felt like a glorified babysitter - keeping watch on the troublesome new guy.

    The more she thought about it, she quickly assumed a few things about Graul despite his current relaxed attire; all work and no play, appearing to be by the books while plotting in the background like his brand of “public servant” had always done. Probably doesn’t even drink, she scoffed internally before wishing she would just stop thinking about alcohol entirely.

    See, this was why she had always been better off working alone, only having herself to consider. What had happened with Effay was proof of that.

    At the very least, he better be self-sufficient to a degree. She wasn’t about to hold anyone’s hand.

    "Each of you will be individually receiving a more detailed readout of your new identities and personal histories. I would recommend outfitting and equipping yourselves in keeping with the illusion. Transportation is reserved in Hangar B3 - rendezvous in six hours. In addition, 10,000 credits have been transmitted to the data chip inside each of your devices."

    She perked up as the meeting seemed to be coming to an end. Finally. Syren bent down to snatch her bag from the floor, mulling over the fact that they had each been given a large amount of credits to take aboard a – what had he called it? – pleasure palace. Peering up at her fellow Sith, she idly wondered if they would be able to avoid the constant temptation that would surround them once they arrived. Hell, would she?

    "As a last order of business, there is of course the matter of training my apprentices…" he started up again and Syren took that as her queue to leave, standing slowly but still listening as she moved.

    The majestic quality and pull of a trio of holocrons caught her full attention as they were passed to the Chancellor - or rather, Skelm -, to the cyborg whom she now knew to be called Grievance Vexx and to the unknown young man that had been at Haretisch’s side; Alva. Syren made quick note of their true identities but was too mesmerized by the device offered to Vexx to think much further.

    It being the Night Herald’s holocron wasn’t what interested her, it was that he stated it held teachings of Typhojem. She stared at it and then to the cyborg it had been bestowed upon, frozen a moment. She found herself contemplating just what secrets of the Left-Handed Lord it contained, almost hearing His voice whispering for her to take it, to want it. It was insane, but she was curious enough to entertain the idea of assisting Skelm in procuring it. The assassin began to feel oddly uncomfortable with those thoughts and with some difficulty, she tore her eyes away as Vexx closed his clawed grasp around his prize.

    This little contest that was being set up was none of her concern and she knew it would be wise to not interfere. But still…

    Syren caught the quick exchange between Haretisch’s apprentices though not knowing what was said and her gaze followed them both as they left the room, one after the other. She met Skelm’s glance before he disappeared through the door, now feeling quite conflicted as to what required her focus more; the mission, the politician, or the holocron.

    “Damn it all,” she muttered through clenched teeth before turning on the spot, nodding once towards the Night Herald as she aimed to take her leave as well.


    TAGS: @Darth_wanderguard @HanSolo29 @Kaleesh-Cyborg @Isley_27 @dragonsith13
  4. Mostlymad Jedi Knight

    Member Since:
    May 12, 2017
    star 2
    IC: Darth Valdimar
    Kterskt - Space near New Moraband

    There it was... that feeling in the pit of the gut where all anxiety goes when things are spinning out of control. The feeling one has when your body lurches in a direction you weren't expecting or when you go into a freefall not of your own doing. That dizzying, nausea inducing, exciting feeling mixed with fear was digging its way into the Tusken pilot’s core as the transport freighter, Kterskt, pitched forward as it listed...and it was exhilarating! A fleeing Imperial shuttle had inadvertently cut the Sentinel’s tractor beam to the Kterskt as it maneuvered between the two ships. This provided the long awaited opportunity that the pilot, Rook, had been waiting for.

    Green laser cannon fire erupted all around them as two TIE fighters engaged the fleeing shuttle. Return fire and debris from the destroyed TIE fighter peppered the transport freighter as the shuttle made its jump to hyperspace. “გააკეთე ახლა Roark!” the tall but lanky black robed pilot yelled, gutturally, from the cockpit to his heavily armored, muscle-bound brother. Roark, standing near an engineering control panel at the rear of the ship, flipped a few switches and the sublight engines roared back to life. Gripping the controls tightly, Rook angled their freighter away from the Sentinel while increasing power and lurching the craft toward what appeared to be the planet Zakuul... at least that was what the star charts called it.

    But just as they got underway a pair of TIE interceptors emerged from hyperspace and set to chasing the surviving TIE fighter. Piloting away from the conflict, the Kterskt found itself staring at the side of a Raider-class corvette as she dropped from hyperspace. "ქავილი!" Rook cursed.

    “ხომ არ გვეპარება ჩვენი ახალი ოსტატები, ან მიატოვებთ მათ ბედს Rook?” asked Roark, his husky voice coming through the ship’s internal communication channel, as he slid behind the controls of their sole, top mounted, laser cannon.

    “Well given the ქავილი-storm we seem to have walked into,” the younger Tusken yelled, switching to Basic, “I don’t think we have much choice other than to impress!” Pitching the freighter down, the masked pilot abruptly jerked the control stick left and back as he angled the ship to assist the lone TIE fighter. As the Kterskt closed in red lasers spit forth as the elder Tusken squeezed the dual triggers. All three TIE pilots jerked their craft in surprise when the brothers engaged and it cost one of the Interceptors as he turned right into the path of a second barrage of laser fire.

    Several more barrages erupted from the Tusken brothers’ craft and Roark’s guttural laughter filled the comm waves. Chasing behind the last TIE fighter and Interceptor Rook couldn’t help but grin idiotically at his brother from behind his mask. However that frown quickly turned into a scowl when he realized what was so funny to his brother, “You ფეხის ხელმძღვანელი!! Stop trying to hit bothand focus on the TIE Interceptor! Need to impress, remember?!”

    “Always ruining the fun little brother,” the elder Tusken muttered as he adjusted his aim accordingly. Outnumbered, and clearly looking for help, the last Interceptor fled towards the turning Raider-class corvette. Giving pursuit with the newly allied TIE fighter the pair of ships covered the twisting and turning Interceptor in a blanket of red and green laser fire. “You’re getting awfully close to THAT,” Roark emphasized as the corvette loomed large in front of them.

    Anger flooded the pilot as he ground his teeth and his right eye twinged. Through gritted teeth he responded, “We can’t outrun it so our only option is to close the distance and make sure it can’t bring its full armament to bear on us. We’ll buy some time and hopefully the Sentinel or TIE fighter put in a call to their Star Destroyer buddies over there. But if you have a better plan I’m all ears!”

    Pushing the little craft as fast as she’d go, Rook set the deflector shield to double front as they entered the Raider’s range. He could only hope that the TIE fighter or the Sentinel had indeed managed to get a distress call through or this could be the worst impression the brothers’ had ever made.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth, @Dagobahsystem, @Darth Kronos
    Last edited by Mostlymad, Jun 23, 2017
  5. Dagobahsystem Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Sep 25, 2015
    star 6
    IC: Saadi

    Sitting pensively in the cold stillness of the passengers' quarters, the reptomammal Darth Saadi calmly meditated on how and when he might accomplish his most single and insatiable desire.

    Revenge!

    Momentarily distracted by a strange disturbance in the Force, Saadi mentally recounted the credits he had recently acquired from a foolish and now headless Rodian who had attempted to rob him on Coruscant.

    Enough!

    These mental distractions were beginning to take the focus off of Saadi's mission.
    This was not the time or place for recalling such trivialities. Breathing deeply, his mind floated back to a place of smoke and fire. And painful death.

    Revenge!

    Saadi's gaze turned ever so slightly to the left to anticipate an even greater disturbance yet. Within moments, an obviously disturbed and reeling Zeltron figure stormed into the room, pink skin masking crazed yellow eyes.
    Saadi subtly turned his eyes towards the floor and adopted an obsequious posture; as he sensed much rage and paranoia in this creature and he could not afford any further interruptions.
    Being in the company of nearly anyone was most uncomfortable, but interacting with an abrasive and obnoxious individual such as this was worst of all, second only to being in the company of a Jedi.

    Murderer!

    Within a moment, the Zeltron woman was gone. Although her babbling could be heard echoing throughout the hallway.

    Reigning in his distracted mind once again, Saadi's green skin slowly grew darker, resembling a muddied puddle of Dagobah swamp water after days of dark rain. At last, he could focus. Or so he assumed.

    Almost immediately, an Imperial officer invaded Saadi's personal space, shattering any more thoughts of quiesecent time. For now.

    Standing uncomfortably close, Lieutenant Shall was swaying and fidgeting like a caged Mynock and Saadi regarded him with disdain when he heard Shall say: "Is Lady Maligna okay? Could you possibly, um, follow her?"

    Closing his eyes carefully and tapping into the dark side of the Force, Saadi rose, opened his eyes slowly, stared at Shall's frantic face and merely nodded at the officer.

    As he walked towards the corridor to tail his mark, Saadi was suddenly flung through the air as the shuttle rocked violently. He came to rest, unharmed, against the far wall of the hall.

    Quietly rising to his feet, the Clawdite assassin glanced at the unconscious Shall, and breathing deeply, shifted his black attire into the grayish hue of the officer's uniform. It was then that Saadi swiftly and silently sprinted forward, on the trail of what was most certainly a malignant creature.

    Tags: @Sinrebirth @Darth Kronos @Mostlymad
  6. Isley_27 Jedi Knight

    Member Since:
    Dec 22, 2016
    star 3
    IC: Alva
    Revelator Armory - Hanger B3

    Everything was certainly starting to pick up again ever since Boneyard, as if they ever halted anyway. From this new mission, to the attack by Grievance, the goal of the Dark Lord's holocron, and the 'partnership' between him and Skelm. The excitement of it all turned Alva's steady walk into one of determination.

    There was one more stop to make before Alva would regroup to the hanger. A few items in the armory needed to be secured first for the inevitable fight between Vexx.

    Everything from heavy blasters to pistols lined the shelved compartments in precise order, measured by range and armor penetration. But there was no need for heavy weapons of that caliber, his eyes scanned to the far end. From there was an assortment of detonators, Alva ran his fingers through each column of explosive. 'Magnetic EMP charges' as well as 'Sonic Detonators' caught his attention. He grabbed two of each, that was all he could afford to carry. He didn't want to bulk down on too many weapons, as this was a covert mission. He went to the blaster and holstered a EC-17 Scout Pistol. Between all of this and his lightsaber, tucked away in a secret pocket of his jacket, it should be enough for the tasks ahead.

    Alva had time to waste now, time he would use wisely. There was a secluded section of the armory, away from the prying eyes of passing troopers. He would need a place of momentary solitude to use his training holocron for the first time.

    He began a steady breathing pace, to distance himself from the world around him. He closed his eyes and went into a meditative trance. He began to build up a portion of dark side energy, then channeled it into his holocron. It vibrated in his palm as it light up once again, it was different from the last time when Alva displayed the holocrons' nature to Skelm. This time he would use it in all its glory!

    Finally, after a few more seconds of shifting pieces, the holocron reacted as it fully opened. A small beam of light shot from the top triangular ended side, projecting the silhouette of a featureless figure. - Young Apprentice - Its voice emitted a deep tone reverberating with an electronic sound. - Pay close attention, as I will not repeat myself. Your master created this tool in hopes that you will take full advantage of what it has to offer you. -

    Alva acknowledged, ready to take the information in like an eager student. - Very good. We shall start with the fundamental truth of the force. As you very well know, it is the binding power of the very cosmos. It flows through every single being, large and small. The scope of its power can either create, and even destroy. This very holocron you hold is powered by the sheer will of the force. However, even though the force surrounds all things, only those who recognize its true potential can command it. You, - The figure gestured at Alva, - And others like you have been blessed with the gift to manipulate the force into doing your bidding. Never take for granted what you have been given, for it allows you to see the world from a much more detailed view.

    Alva nodded, though in truth, all of this was not new to him. But he reasoned that if he ever were to gain the power he sought, he would have to start back to the core of the matter. - There are two aspect of the force. The light side, as well as the dark side. Those who follow the former, describe it as a flowing river of peace and tranquility. You have no need of this delusion, for you know that peace is a lie. Conflict is always on the horizon. Compassion, mercy, empathy, some would reason that these qualities are the true nature of the force....They are wrong. The force can be chaotic, like a terrible storm seeking to annihilate anything in its path. That is why you follow of the dark side, you are not blinded by useless ideas. You also know that those who use the dark side are also bound to serve it. To understand this, is to understand the underlining philosophy of the Sith.

    The assassin kneeled, taking in this knowledge like a thirsty Bantha. - You must seek power above all else, with no reservation or hesitation. When you do this, the force will change you, but do not fear the transformation. That is why those who serve the light are limited in what they can accomplish. They teach that restrain is vital to understanding the force. Yet true power can come only to those who embrace this change. There is no room for a path of moderation. -

    Alva grinned. The words reflected perfectly to what Alva desired.

    Understand this as well, apprentice. Many yearn for true strength, only to be destroyed by their foes or the their own shortcomings. You must always stay ahead of your enemies at all cause. - "Yes," replied Alva. - Good, our session will end here for now. When you are ready, you may summon me again to continue your training. - The figured bowed as it faded away at the dimming light of the holocron, which had begun to reform.

    Alva felt, enlightened by what he just experienced. He was eager for more of the holocron's wisdom. Then his thoughts raced back to the 'promise' he made to Skelm in giving him his holocron. "That's right, you'll get it my friend...when it is just a worthless piece of metal. Then you'll get the end of my blade through your chest."

    ~~~

    The hanger was alive with activity, ships and fighters flew out while others docked to their landing spaces. Alva came in to the designated meeting area, awaiting the last bit of instructions from his master concerning the mission.

    Tag @Darth_wanderguard
    Last edited by Isley_27, Jun 28, 2017
  7. dragonsith13 Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Apr 3, 2005
    star 4
    OOC: Wrong thread. SORRY!
    Last edited by dragonsith13, Jul 3, 2017
    Anakin.Skywalker and DarthIshyZ like this.
  8. Kaleesh-Cyborg Jedi Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 4, 2017
    star 4
    Combo post featuring Draconis and Grievance Vexx
    The Hangar Bay

    The hanger was in preparation, the dock master surrounded by several attendant personnel of varying station and rank, all with their own responsibilities and assignments. The whirl of lifts and hovercraft moving about, ratchets, and binders being utilized in the process of loading armaments, supplies, and cargo some of which had been already personally designated by Draconis.
    As instructed his apprentice was in the hanger already, waiting.

    A cargo container was in the process of being lifted and placed near Vexx. “You’ll find everything is in order, compacted but all there including your droid.” Draconis came up to Vexx unannounced, eluding to the cargo container that had been placed at his feet. Draconis expected him to gather what he needed and load only what was necessary on their departure vessel. Vexx might wondered how they acquired it all, then again, they controlled the system there was little that eluded and escaped their grasp, yet he would find it was unaltered and unharmed. Available for his use and inspection if necessary.

    Draconis thoughts turned briefly to the holocron in Vexx’s possession, as it presented numerous opportunities if he recognized them. “Think on what you will do with the holocron.” Draconis gave a subtle glance down at it, referring to the supposed holocron of the Night Herald. It wasn’t entirely useless in Vexx’s possession, and opportunities always arose. And his elusion to it was more a taunt and inflection to not sit on his hands and wait for someone to try and take it from him. If they were to take it from him better be dead or it be of no further use to him. “Gather what you need and prepare for departure.” Draconis paused only for a moment, should Vexx have any questions needing answering, there would be time for instruction later. This was all about mission preparation.

    Draconis thoughts moved towards the final brief soon to ensue per the Night Herald, as he came to stand near the dock master, who was busy in his dutied. Noticing Alva present already as the preparations of new equipment, armor, and weapons continued. Though more importantly was the essential attire Draconis requested that was being prepared to be loaded.

    Having moved on to the hangar bay, Grievance is still highly annoyed and not in the most civil of moods. His mind is already thinking ahead to inevitable confrontations with the two apprentices of the Night Herald. He does not fear them; not by a long shot. He simply does not like them and to be set up as a target of harassment for them prods his temper to spill over into savage rage.

    His strategic mind becomes distracted though as he enters the bay and spies the shrouded dark lord who had effectively broken him without his awareness of being broken. Draconis had managed to bend his iron will to align with his own capabilities, long dormant, waiting to be tapped into and utilized. It's now or never; he must request formal training from the ambiguous Sith. His heart quickens with the unsettling pulse of nervousness, tripped by multiple triggers. One, he stands on the precipice of change; a desire to take the plunge and experience the thrill, but dreading it all the same. Two, it is not far from his memory how this man had captured, disabled, and tortured him. Logically, he should hate or at the very least fear Draconis for this treatment. Neither of those logical feelings are there though. There is only curiosity and a profound void that he knows the dark lord can teach him to fill. That void, he has found, is becoming harder and harder to ignore.

    A growl of frustration escapes him as he has to duck and dodge around the busyness of the hangar and Draconis becomes lost to his sight. He turns to look for him yet again to find he somehow has materialized right beside him, eliciting a startle from the otherwise rarely shaken cyborg.

    "You'll find everything is in order, compacted but all there including your droid."


    "How did you--?" There is no point in asking. He is quickly learning that there is little he can hide from this man and trying to piece together how he does what he does is a mind game not worth playing. He is admittedly angry that his belongings--some he had not even brought here with him in the first place--had been located, but there are greater things at stake here than his privacy. He removes the lid from one of the crates.

    "Oh! Finally!" his medical droid EV-A4-D gasps, "I thought I would never get out of there! Master Vexx, next time you go gallivanting off and your vitals drop and you fail to answer me, I am going to--"


    "The droid and my weapons are all that I need," he replies to Draconis, "I prefer to travel light."

    In no mood to be lectured by his medic, Grievance hastily puts the lid back on the crate and ignores the muffled protests from inside it. Turning his full attention to Draconis, he narrows his eyes quizzically as he is advised to think about what he will do with the holocron. Still clutched in his steely grasp, he glances from it and back to Draconis.

    "Is there something I can do with it?" he asks, staying close and keeping his rumbling voice as low as possible, "And even if I could gain access to what it holds, could I use it? I am ignorant; uneducated at best and through no one's fault but my own. But I have seen the error of my ways thanks to your intervention, dark one. I now realize that, if I am to do more than merely survive in this culture, I must adapt accordingly and it is upon that realization that I humbly request your tutelage in the ways of the Force. If it is necessary, as payment for your training, I am prepared to become your slave. I do not care what it takes. I will not have done to me twice what has already happened once."

    “You do not have to access it to you use it to your advantage… You have two eager apprentices yearning for it.” Draconis kept it short wanting to move on, he would either work them or they would break him and take it from him.

    The warrior humbly put forth his request to be training by the being. Expected. As his willingness moved towards him offering himself as payment.

    “I have no need for a mindless brat.” The statement was cold and spoken calmly. “I will use you. Break you. Tear your down… but if you survive.” Draconis let the last words hang, emphasizing his potential, yet slim chance of survival. The words as much a challenge as they were an indictment of his current condition lacking and needing more. “You will surpass your greatest aspirations of skill and power, and perhaps even me.” Draconis left it at that and continued towards the ship marked for their departure, and the dockmaster. “We will speak more on this later gather yourself and prepare to depart.”

    Grievance is not sure he fully understands what his options are here. He certainly is not going to allow two young apprentices to best him--not after that first encounter with Alva--which is why he is so near to desperation for the training Draconis could afford him. No, he fully intends to give both of them hell to no end, whether the silly holocron is useful to him or not. He just wants the satisfaction of making it impossible for either of those two to have it for themselves.

    Which is annoying to me, he thinks in response to the Sith's words, exasperated. He will voice these questions later; he can sense the urgency in the present moment, but that doesn't stop his rampant thoughts. Why do they want it so badly? I do not even understand the value placed upon this...thing. I have never seen one before, much less been in possession of one. It looks no different than the holocrons the Night Herald gave to them and what is this Typhojem term that applies to this one?

    A feral growl is provoked as Draconis blatantly assumes the cyborg before him would behave as a "mindless brat" and that growl is followed by the audacious action of said cyborg rounding on him to block his path, not necessarily to be challenging, but to ensure he has the Sith lord's attention for what he is about to say.

    There must be a human under that black cowl, he thinks to himself, seething, They make such hasty assumptions, never knowing the facts.

    "Oh, you would not have a mindless brat, dark one," he replies, his tone ominous with barely controlled anger, but a growl all the same as he narrows his eyes at Draconis, "You misunderstand what is truly meant when a Kaleesh willingly offers himself to slavery. I have a mind, believe me, and I have no intentions of giving that up, but Kaleesh loyalty should not be taken so lightly. It is to the death and the most valuable part of myself I have to offer. Your knowledge means that much to me, Head of the Dragon."

    He then recoils and moves aside for Draconis to pass, but he follows closely. His talk of breaking him and tearing him down does not cause him to flinch or balk. His gait remains steady and unfaltering; the pace of one who has made up his mind.

    "I would expect nothing less," he replies calmly, "After my first encounter with you."

    He says nothing more, but instead shoves the crate containing his medical droid and his weapons ahead of him, trailing Draconis toward the designated ship.

    Tag: @dragonsith13 @Darth_wanderguard
  9. HanSolo29 Manager Emeritus + Official Star Wars Artist

    Member Since:
    Apr 13, 2001
    star 7
    Combo with @Darth_wanderguard

    IC: Aryan Graul & the Quartermaster (and briefly Darth Haretisch)
    The Revelator

    "Check the armor crates, and count the hand weapons again! And whoever misplaced it would do well to hide their mistake!" the diminutive quartermaster barked, and a pair of clerks scurried off muttering half-spoken apologies. She had been going for authoritative - but it came off more as though she was losing her composure. Not that she didn't have right to be - the box had been dropped off by the Night Herald's valet himself, a rare gesture to be sure, and yet it had been lost in only the space of a few hours. Lost! No, not lost. It had to be somewhere.

    The quartermaster gulped, before stooping to search once more beneath the front desk of the commissary, crouched so that only the top of her dark mop could be seen.

    A harried voice met Aryan’s ear as he approached the quartermaster’s outpost, but he found that he was unable to perceive the meaning behind the words. His mind was wandering, his thoughts purely on the surreptitious pact he had made with Alva only moments before. He did not trust the man – could not trust the man – to uphold his end of the deal, but it presented the only real opportunity for him to obtain the prize…at least, for the time being. Once he was able to hone his skills, the tables would surely turn…

    With his right hand still within his jacket pocket, he idly caressed the surface of the holocron with his fingers, silently coercing it to share its secrets with him. It did not immediately respond, but that was partly due to his own lack of concentration. A petite woman with dark hair, who he had failed to notice upon his initial approach, was fumbling around behind the counter and making a real spectacle of herself. It was enough to provide a distraction.

    Aryan remained silent and simply watched her for a long moment before he took a step closer, his brow lifting with amusement. “Lose something?” he asked as he casually propped his elbow against the counter and dared to peek over the edge.

    "Erm..." the quartermaster froze for a moment at the unfamiliar voice, realizing she'd been caught not at her best. Quickly popping up from behind the desk, she was met with a handsome and oddly familiar face. "H... Hi!" she flashed a nervous smile, hand reaching for the dark ponytail which hung over one shoulder. 'Stop it,' she reminded herself, 'Be a professional.' Still, she could swear she'd seen her visitor in a holofilm or two.

    A wry grin touched one corner of Aryan’s mouth as he observed the woman’s fervent reaction to his presence. He could feel her emotional duress as it permeated out from her being and penetrated his senses, bolstering his ego in the process. It was almost intoxicating. In that moment, he knew there was no mistaking her odd behavior. He could also see it in her eyes and in the way she held herself; she was infatuated.

    His smile widened as he leaned closer to her. Those feelings could be dangerous. If she was someone other than a lowly quartermaster, he might have taken full advantage of the situation. After all, he was no stranger to this kind of persuasion. Marasiah Fel had found that out the hard way…

    But despite her status, he still decided to have a bit of fun. Why the hell not?

    “Hi,” he returned in a husky voice, mimicking her initial reply as he played into her insecurities.

    Before she could get another word out, one of the two assistants whom she had dressed down moments before came charging back out of the storeroom, an ornate square box in hand. "I GOT IT!" he shouted, apparently lacking an inside voice.

    "Give me that!" the quartermaster snapped, and snatched the box from the assistant's hands. Composing herself, she looked back to the man standing on the other side of the counter. "May I help you?"

    Aryan scowled and straightened his posture as the moment passed. His eyes flicked to the assistant in warning for the untimely interruption before his gaze settled on the ornate box now resting in the quartermaster’s hands. It did not have any distinguishing features to hint at its contents, but he noted that it was significant. They would not have stressed over it otherwise.

    Another holocron, perhaps?

    Clicking his tongue, he kept that thought at the back of his mind and returned his full attention to the quartermaster. “I’ve had instructions to report here by Lord Haretisch,” he replied evenly. While his tone had turned serious, there was still a suggestive glint in his eye that seemed to indicate that he was not through with her yet.

    “I’m his apprentice…Skelm.” He paused to allow that to sink in and lifted his chin marginally. “Maybe you’ve heard of me…?”

    The quartermaster's eyes widened momentarily. "I have," she admitted. "In fact, this is yours," she presented the box brought to her by the assistant only moments prior. "Darth Haretisch's valet brought it personally."

    Gingerly she set the box down onto the counter, and slid it across toward Skelm. It was a fine piece of work, covered from end to end with what would appear to be meticulous engravings... and it was completely sealed. The thing lacked even a seam where it might have opened. Instead, set within its top surface was an indentation in the shape of a holocron's base.

    The only indication Aryan provided to express his surprise was a subtle tilt of his head; otherwise, his expression remained impassive. Much like the giving of the holocron, this generous offer did not fit with the Night Herald’s grim personality. There was always an ulterior motive – either he was facing a trap, or perhaps his master was gifting him with another tool to assist him on his journey? The latter option filled him with an overwhelming sense of pride, but he did not want to appear too presumptuous.

    With careful precision, he began to trace the intricate designs on the box with his fingers as he sought to open it, pausing briefly when he reached the divot upon the top surface. It was not a conventional latch, but maybe it was a clue. He furrowed his brow as he pressed against it and noted its unique shape. It was almost as if…

    Instinctively, he thrust his right hand back into his jacket pocket as realization dawned. The holocron was the key!

    “Clever,” he muttered under his breath with a small shake of his head. He started to pull the holocron free, but hesitated before exposing it fully; he had a witness. He warily shifted his gaze to the quartermaster as if to gauge her reaction. Did she covet such power as well? If so, he would need to tread carefully…

    He gave a silent warning with the narrowing of his eyes before finally bringing the holocron to bear. Without saying another word, he pressed its base into the slot.

    Click.

    The holocron whirred internally, and a phosphorescent seam appeared around the edges of the box's crown. Then the glow faded, leaving a divide in its wake, and the box flipped open.

    Inside lay a curved cylinder of obsidian and bone and weathered metal, which could have perhaps been chrome again with some polishing. The switch was high, near the bell-shaped emitter, and within the housing rest two blood red crystals - designed to project a scarlet blade of adjustable length.

    Then as the holocron continued to sound, the form of the Night Herald projected from its front side in ghostly blue, no taller than the box itself. A recording.

    "This weapon belonged, briefly, to an ill-fated apprentice who died before she could use it," the projection began to explain. “A servant of Darth Dreadwar doomed by her loyalties as much as her unchecked tongue. Before it was hers, it was carried by another who fell in the Battle of the Taral whence Darth Cruor returned to us from the twisting nether. It is now yours. Go forth, Darth Skelm, as my apprentice, and sow pain in the name of order."

    The projection flickered before shutting off, and the holocron fell silent. Aryan Graul, nay Darth Skelm, would be left only with a holocron, a lightsaber, an empty box...and a witness to what arguably should have been a private moment.

    A palpable silence followed as he took a moment to process the scene and to meditate on the Night Herald’s words. His master had entrusted him with this weapon – his own lightsaber. Many considered it an integral part of becoming a Sith, but it was simply a tool, a means to an end. His actions would ultimately define who he is…not some ancient weapon. And yet, the Force was compelling him to embrace it.

    Inhaling deeply and closing his eyes, he took the hilt into his hand and permitted the darkness to penetrate his being. He could feel its influence reaching into the very recesses of his soul, making him stronger, wiser…a true creature of the dark. It also opened up pathways to his innermost thoughts and emotions, serving as a painful reminder of the atrocities that had burdened him in the past. While Mortis and his spurious stint as Chancellor were high on that list, there was one other that threatened to overtake them all – Insipid’s betrayal.

    The anger and hate that spurred from that revelation acted as a conduit for his growing power. He had tried to repress it, but now that he was tapping into his true potential, it could no longer be contained.

    When he opened his eyes once more, he met the quartermaster’s gaze and flashed a sadistic grin. In the end, Skelm knew what he had to do to ensure his own posterity and to keep his secret safe…

    “Mind if I try it out?” he asked innocently enough as he continued to turn the saber around in his grip with eager anticipation. He fumbled it slightly in his haste, but it was all part of the ruse. He used the distraction to discreetly slip the holocron back into its resting place within his jacket pocket. Once it was secure, he did not wait for her permission; he triggered the emitter with his thumb and the scarlet blade surged forth with a distinctive snap-hiss.

    In that instant, time seemed to stop as he surrendered himself to his untamed fury.

    Pivoting on his heel, he lashed out to the side and caught the unsuspecting assistant along his left flank. The blade sunk deep into his flesh, eliciting a feral scream from the man’s lips as he sank to his knees and collapsed to the deck in a lifeless heap.

    With one target down, he turned to focus his sights on the quartermaster. A predatory smile marred his features as he paused to take in her panicked expression. He delighted in her fear – it was a wave of pure ecstasy. He hungrily latched on to its torrent to garner his strength. Before he realized what he was doing, his left arm was extending with the palm of his hand turned upward as he called on the Force to assist him. Clenching that same hand into a fist, he willed her to come to him.

    She issued a startled cry as she felt the tug of his invisible grip. In short order, she began to slide forward against her own volition, tumbling over the counter and hitting her head before spearing herself on the end of his outstretched saber. Something akin to a gurgle escaped from her throat as the crimson blade pierced straight through her chest and tore through vital tissue and organs. It was a critical blow.

    Skelm simply watched her suffer with a cruel sneer. He knew he should feel remorse for committing such a heinous act, but he was surprisingly numb to the whole idea. If anything, he found that it gave him a sense of satisfaction, which only increased his poise and vitality.

    It was that same confidence that prompted him to lean forward so that he was mere inches from her face. “It’s nothing personal,” he asserted with an eerie calm. “But you need to understand that I had to protect my own interests. You were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

    He intended to move away, but there was a moment of hesitation when he noticed her countenance. She was starting to fade, her face muscles relaxing as she struggled to stay conscious. He pressed his lips into a thin line and sighed. After her apparent interest in him, the least he could do was afford her one final thrill before she slipped away into eternity.

    Reaching up, he cupped her cheek with his free hand and gently brushed back a strand of her hair. “By the way, thank you,” he offered, remaining vague about what he was referring to. “It’s a shame we couldn’t spend more…time together, but allow me to express my gratitude with a parting gift.”

    Pressing his lips against hers, he kissed her lightly before finally extinguishing the blade. With nothing left to support her, she crumpled to the floor at his feet.

    TAG: @Darth_wanderguard
  10. Lady Belligerent •Grand Inquisitor of EUC • Adoptions Coordinator•

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    Jan 29, 2008
    star 7
    Combo with @Darth_wanderguard and @dragonsith13

    medcenter aboard the Revelator


    The ISIB's inaugural meeting had come to a close, and its director departed with little more pageantry than the swiftness of his steps and the swish of his cape. Long strides carried him down less traveled corridors of the Revelator with haste - he had shirked certain priorities for far too long in favor of others.

    Finally he darkened the door of the medbay - free to focus now that plans were in motion and his lieutenants were sent on their way. He spied Hel, lying still just as she had been before, eyes closed as if asleep, relying on a ventilator to breathe. Quietly he stepped up to her side, resisting the inclination to brush away a stray lock of hair from her face for fear of breaking her even further. For a long moment he simply watched the artificial rise and fall of her chest.

    "Is there nothing else you can do?" he asked darkly when another presence made itself known. It hadn't done so by choice.

    Cal was blindsided by the question as he entered - not expecting the Dark Lord to slip into the unit during the one caf break he'd allowed himself in what felt like days. "Mi'lord," he stammered out as he checked the displays on his desk out of the corner of his eye, hoping he'd been careful enough not to leave his research files open. He nodded awkwardly in a sort of bow, 'jeez, man. Stop acting like a school boy caught with his hand in the biscuit jar', he chided himself.

    "I hope you've more poise in surgery than in conversation, doctor," Haretisch responded, gaze still fixed on Hel. His tone wasn't threatening, but matter of fact, and the implication was clear. "I assume you've made some progress."

    Cal nodded solemnly as he crossed the room to join the Dark Lord gazing at his patient. "I have," he said as he adjusted a setting on one of the infusion pumps. "I'd like to get some blood and tissue samples from you," he looked at Haretisch to see if it was safe to continue. Cal kept his expression confident and didn't waver. It was a risky suggestion, but this shot at studying a Force user had been practically served to him on a platter.

    It was at this that the Night Herald finally looked up, casting a pensive gaze at the physician. Wary, but not opposed. "To what purpose?" he asked.

    "If you are a match, then I could use blood and tissue from your body to assist in repairing Hel's injuries." Cal retrieved a datapad from a side table and opened a file he'd been compiling notes in and handed it to Haretisch. "I wasn't sure if you were familiar with how using donor stem cells and tissue worked," Cal pointed to various bullet points as he spoke. "I'm concerned about how long it may take to locate Rathire," he looked back to Hel's face, "she is showing signs of healing, but she won't speak or breathe on her own unless her throat is repaired."

    Haretisch exhaled, looking back to Hel for a moment to remind himself of her condition. There was a strong chance that doing what he could do to help her would also leave him vulnerable in some fashion or another. "What would this entail?" he scanned the notes for what information he could glean - there was little that wasn't beyond his lay understanding. Though he was self-educated, with no formal medical training the Night Herald was, in a very real sense, in a position of weakness where this was concerned. To what degree Jepsun realized or took advantage of that was to be seen.

    "A few procedures, all quite simple and common," Jepsun pointed to the information on tissue matching, "first I'd need some blood specimens and a swab from inside your cheek. If the results are as I suspect and you are a match for Hel, then we go forward."

    The Dark Lord didn't interrupt, his eyes instead fixed on the datapad. Cal meanwhile was engaged in a battle with his emotions. He had to stay calm and not appear too eager... he also realized that he'd just committed to possibly healing this girl. He couldn't screw this up.

    "We would administer a general anesthesia, so you'd be relaxed and sleeping," he continued, knowing Haretisch probably wouldn't agree but thinking it was worth trying. "While you're out, I'll take some tissue samples from your throat and extract bone marrow from your hip or sternum."

    "No," Haretisch replied definitively, and looked up at last from the screen. "I'll do it awake." General anesthesia? He would have to be mad.

    Cal slowly shook his head, "with all due respect, Milord, it wouldn't be pleasant and the patient must be completely still." He pointed to a graphic on the datapad that depicted how the needle would be placed to extracted the bone marrow, "any movement could prohibit me from getting the placement correct...not to mention the, uh...pain. I'm sure you understand, Lord Hareti-"

    Cal's words were cut off, replaced by a strangled hiccup as his windpipe was pinched not quite closed but millimeters from it. "Hm. No," Haretisch spoke calmly. A minuscule amount of air would still be able to pass through Jepsun's throat, and with it, he would aspirate his own saliva as he struggled - in some ways a more uncomfortable experience than simply having one's airway closed completely.

    The doctor's eye's bulged and his hands went to his throat by reflex, 'stang! Brilliant!! This was better than he had imagined. Not only was he a witness to this demonstration of Force power...but, he experienced it.

    "While I thank you for your good advice, doctor," the Night Herald explained as he released his grip, "you know not of pain as I do. When can we begin?"

    Careful to contain his joy, Cal didn't need to act when he gasped in oxygen when the pressure was released on his throat. He grabbed a stack of cotton from the table beside Hel and swabbed away the beads of sweat running down his forehead.

    "Of...of course, milord," he spoke tentatively with a hoarse voice. "You've persuaded me... no anesthesia."

    Jepsun went to the supply cabinet and began to retrieve the items he would need to draw blood from the Sith Lord.

    ---

    The pain was searing, and grew moreso with every millimeter the needle bit into the dark lord's sternum as he lay on the operating table, clad only in a black body glove rolled down to his waist.

    And yet he didn't flinch. Hyper-aware of every sensation - the cold metal of the table, the antiseptic smell of the medbay, the unrelenting agony of his very bones being hollowed - the pain only tempered his will. He remained unmoving as another presence made itself known.

    Draconis.

    Watchful and silent with only the steady beep of a vitals monitor and slow deep breathing breaking the silence of the cold, sterile, and near-empty med-bay, Draconis looked upon Hel. She lay motionless and in a near medical induced comatose state keeping her stable. The doctor would not have noticed his entrance, even with the soft hiss of the med-bay door, he was too busy attending to his current procedure. There was no doubt that the Night Herald felt him, watching beyond his vision, but Draconis was not here for a confrontation... Haretisch would sense this. He could feel the surge of control exhibited upon himself as he underwent the doctor’s procedure. The pain being controlled, focused, and channeled. Draconis looked away from the Night Herald laying on the examination slab with the doctor hovering over top of him with his instruments, and gazed back upon Hel.

    Something did not seem in place. There was a veiled deception at work.

    Draconis looked back towards the table with the Night Herald on it as the doctor was beginning his procedure. He had read him upon entering the med-bay, the man’s thoughts, mannerisms, and responses were muddled even frantic, evident by the sweat on his brow and slight tremble in his stance initially. It was expected that one would have some degree or more when in the presence of a Sith, let alone a member of the Triumvirate. There was something more to his nervous and anxious feelings. Despite the man’s laser-like outward focus and steady hands for the procedure he was performing, inside his thoughts were twisted and racing.

    Draconis’ eyes narrowed upon the doctor. Was the Night Herald too close to the situation? Caught up in the swirling emotions of it all? He could be understandably so.


    Draconis slid forward silently. The Night Herald, despite the pain, was aware and perhaps sensed him moving. Though the doctor was clearly focused on the needle he was stabbing the Night Herald in the sternum with and unaware that anyone else was present. The doctor had smartly locked his displays, a good tactic for shoulder surfing nosy assistants. But not expert slicers. With a subtle move Draconis was next to the doctor’s desk, data-pads and notes strewn about. The slicer key was easy to insert in an open port, and locked display or not the silent backdoor program that would activate the next time the man logged in, was uploaded in almost an instant and was near untraceable. Payload uploaded, key removed. Draconis was back in the darker reaches of the med-bay a last look at Hel and he was gone.

    Jepsun was holding his breath as he eased the long sturdy needle out of the Night Herald's sternum. He'd managed to correctly target the precise area with three insertions, and has harvested more stem cells than he'd hoped for. Placing the full syringe on a tray, he grabbed a stack of cotton gauze and dabbed his forehead. It was absurd to do this to a patient that was awake, much less one that refused any sedation and was a powerful Sith Lord. Discarding the gauze, he picked up another stack and placed pressure on the last site of Haretisch's chest he'd stabbed in.

    "You've done an incredible job, milord," Cal told Haretisch as he glanced over to his desk. Something seemed amiss, but he couldn't quite figure out what. His eyes darted to Hel's bed where a droid was stationed to monitor her vitals. Her face was peaceful and relaxed, and one could fantasize that she was merely sleeping. Cal's gaze then settled to the tube at her throat where machinery was breathing for her.

    Haretisch sat up, reaching across to take Jepsun's place pressing down on the gauze. "Did you get what you needed?" he asked with severity, and retrieved a roll of tape from the bedside tray to secure the bandage in place over his chest. The final sharp aftershocks of pain were still rolling from the wound, but diminishing by the moment.

    "Yes, this should allow me to administer the treatment," Jepsun answered as he gathered the vials. "I shall take these to the lab so that we can get the process started," Cal said as he looked over to the sleeping Hel. "I'm going to do everything in my power to restore her health, and her speech, Night Herald." Then as an afterthought, Cal added, "would you be available for another stem cell harvest if it is necessary, milord?"

    Haretisch paused, not without suspicion - but it wouldn't do to alert the good doctor as to his doubts. "Whatever will improve her odds," he nodded.

    Tag: no one
  11. Sinrebirth Immortal Mod-King of the EUC, RPF and SWC

    Manager
    Member Since:
    Nov 15, 2004
    star 8
    Darth Insipid & Jagall Neidav IC:
    ~Heskal's Wreck, Zakuul~

    Lord Insipid seemed not to care for his warning about Aryan Graul. Then again, Jagall mentally mused, it was far more likely that the Sith Emperor simply knew far more than he and so his information was already old to him. Taking that into mind, he shifted gears and listened to the request being given.

    "A dungeon ship of Jedi and Imperial Knights has been, by my design, crashed into the Zakuul swamp. You are to ingratiate yourself with them, and provide them with a goal; a chance to upend the entire Sith Empire by killing a triumvir; Darth Haretisch. If you succeed, all the better, but if you do not, I do not expect to be fingered, but I do expect you to survive. I shall protect you as necessary."

    The man blinked. This was a surprise and not what he had been expecting and he hadn't been expecting anything! A mission of such importance, given to him? A liaison from the Empire of the Hand? He wasn't sure what to make of this dungeon ship, but it intrigued him certainly. Nor was he sure what an 'Imperial Knight' was. An Inquisitor or some other kind of obscure former minion of Palpatine's? Nevertheless, joining up with fellow Jedi would be easy. As for the intent to assassinate a Triumvir?

    Truly, the Sith's machinations already reveal themselves. The Quiet Civil War has begun, just as the reports always said of them.

    As a Jedi, he should not want any part of this mission. It was a bit much. Yet, there was a thrill at the prospect. And it should prove interesting to see how these other Jedi react….and who were they to begin with?

    He eyed he datapad suddenly appearing, his eyebrow raised. "Command codes. Mine. I shall be aware of their use, so do not abuse them."

    His command codes? This was getting more and more intriguing. And why would he immediately shift to him to do all this? A Jedi?

    "And before you ask me why I would trust you, a relatively new member to this Order?"

    Clearly his logic helped him suss out where his thoughts were going. Though he already intimated that Jagall was a member of the Sith. That was…an interesting notion. He almost went to correct the Emperor, but then decided that wasn't a very wise idea. His next words sent a shiver up his spine anyway.

    "You want events to move, to hurry, to progress."

    How right he was. Possibly even more than he realized.

    "You want to grow, to become, to show to me and to yourself what you can do."

    'To become' resonated within him and for a moment he lost his cool as the Sith stepped forward so he was close. His eyes stared right back into the man's, uncertain what kind of expression he should make. Just what was going on?

    "You want change, so that you may insert yourself into it all."

    Already he had done so. But another step, the next level in that change? Could that be done? Was it even possible? And…what exactly was he implying at? Inwardly, he knew exactly what he meant.

    "And if you betray me, you know you will die. Against Haretisch, his immediate threat is his reach. He is not political. He is just invested in the physical world. In what you can do, not what he can do for him."

    This first part of what was clearly evident, there was no question. As for the differences between Insipid and Haretisch being so nicely spelled out, he took careful note, even while his mind pricked at the even lower voice. He knew these last words were for him alone. And thus:

    The most critical.

    "And when I impose the Rule of Two again I shall need an apprentice. I would even consider a Jedi. Because the Sith way is not the only way…and this is a new world."

    Quietly taking the offered datapad at last, Jagall nodded slowly. His words failed him. What could he say to that? A Sith offering him apprenticeship? A plot not to just wipe out a fellow Triumvir and solidify power, but to turn on all of the Sith? A new world….

    Yes. The Battle of Endor showed that. The Battle of Jakku cemented it. His tongue flicked out and licked his lips for a moment, a tad uncertain, but his words finally appeared and without betraying any hint of what they might have spoken about.

    "Of course, Lord Insipid. This is…very intriguing. I am surprised at your trust in me, I must admit. But this seems important."

    His eyes flashed in an unusual glint of acceptance, determination, and…utter confidence.

    "It will be done. If there is any other relevant information I could use, I would be most appreciative."

    Darth Insipid listened, softly. His reading of Jagall was not quite a stab in a dark, but more of those 'detached subconscious' moments that he had learned from the Holocron of Darth Gorog; to access his innermost instincts and use them to confound those who would predict him. Some said it was because he was mad. Others simply could not comprehend the concept of splitting the conscious, subconscious and unconscious of a mind.

    The Rule of Three internalised.

    The Rule of Two with this one, and another, as candidate for Apprentice. Insipid allowed his smile to broaden at the word important, emphasised with a certain degree of strength.

    And a Rule of Seven to solidify his rule as Snoke.

    A nod, short and sharp. 'It is. It is the End. The Sith Twilight. In your time the Sith have ended. It is time I caught up with that fact.'

    'Which is why the Sith must end.'

    A stroke of his chin. Apoptosis. A new Order; a new way. A new Imperial; a new Imperium. 'Haretisch seeks to enshrine the Sith within the Empire. Bellorum seeks to obtain funding as she views credits as true power.'

    'Both are wrong.'

    Insipid shrugged. 'In my timeline the Sith fought for five millennia and lost. The Jedi triumphed. The only time we achieved a foothold against them is when we convinced the Jedi to not be Jedi; to enshrine themselves in a bureaucracy, and become beholden to it. And so the Sith can only triumph by becoming something different.'

    Insipid realised he was unburdening himself to Jagall. Allowing himself to philosophise. To wax lyrical. To ramble madly.

    He narrowed his focus. 'I have assigned a Sith to watch over the Jedi. One Darth Anark. You may arrange his death, if you consider it necessary. He is expendable.' Soliloquy might pick up on that as a concern. But it was an aside; Soliloquy was a candidate for the Rule of Seven... he would value that, and be unaware of the proposed Rule of Two.

    True, and untrue. Insipid nodded. 'I can tell you a great deal about the man, Anark. He is my former apprentice, after all.'

    'There were four lightsiders. Two Jedi Masters, one Knight, and one Imperial Knight. None of them are particularly of note. Some of them may be dead. I sense an absence but I would not know whom of the four has fallen.'

    Jagall listened intently to the information given to him, his mind processing silently as he did so. This talk of timelines and differing fates. He had forgotten. The Grand Admiral and his aides had informed him a little of it before he had been sent to the Sith, though not with all the details.

    Delusions or Truth? It was hard to say for sure. Even now, it was difficult for him to comprehend such things, especially not when the ones speaking of it did so with such absolute certainty. Zealotry. A matter of fact so strong, a lightsaber blade could not penetrate it to find holes.

    They believed it. Every bit. And he could only wonder at it.

    But in the end, whether he ever discerned the full truth of it or not, it didn't matter. There was his mission. And the specifics he needed to glean to fulfill it. That. Was all that mattered. All that ever mattered.

    And so he gleaned from Insipid that the truly meant to find a new path for them. Haretisch seemed to grasp onto the old, and Bellorum sought to change, a mere bend if not break of tradition perhaps, but not change enough. Or so the Emperor seemed to get at.

    Differences. Realignments of what is known to what could be. This was the basis of this alternate history lesson. He understood that much and let the other words wash around him until such a time he could understand better. And had time to do so.

    The tidbit about Anark, piqued his interest. How the Sith viewed each other so lightly, but that did not surprise him. Expected even. And the lightsiders was basic information. He needed more. Jagall wasn't sure how much more he would get, but he would get as much as possible to be as efficient as possible.

    And in so enacting this mission, discover truth. Or so he hoped.

    "Tell me as much as you can of your former apprentice, if you have the time, Emperor. I will need every bit of it potentially. I will look and hope to keep him alive, it is not the Jedi way to kill as you know…but if he forces my hand…"

    He looked across toward the others nearby, eyeing them quietly a moment before continuing, "As for the four. What is an Imperial Knight exactly? I must know what I am walking into. I surmise not a threat if they walk with the Jedi, but it is still an unknown to me. Any information on them? Names perhaps?"


    He shrugged. "Anything to establish friendship."

    Darth Insipid waved a hand. He knew that Jagall would appreciate this idea. 'An Imperial Knight is a lightsider who serves the Force via the Emperor. They thus cross the line into Grey Force users in many respects, but fundamentally, should the Emperor fall to the dark side, they act against him.'

    'In our old reality the Imperial Knights prevented their Emperor from unleashing a genocide weapon on Coruscant, which he had proposed to do to end a Sith threat. As it was, the Sith were immune anyway, so they would have won instead. Ironic, as you would think.'

    Insipid smiled. 'The one we have here actually killed Emperor Fel III - Antares Draco. Darth Skelm - Aryan Graul - and he hate each other. Draco himself nearly fell to the dark side, and came back, giving him a unique perspective on his late Emperors fall. Thus he ended him, at the critical moment.'

    'So telling him that Graul lives may make both ingratiate you to him and distract him. So that titbit will be useful, no doubt...'

    TAG: @Darth_Elu


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  12. Sinrebirth Immortal Mod-King of the EUC, RPF and SWC

    Manager
    Member Since:
    Nov 15, 2004
    star 8
    IC: Esmerelda
    New Moraband

    Esmerelda was quiet for the portion of the journey. A datafile from their God-Emperor, his face changed yet again, had been passed to them. She read it while they made their move.

    It was cartographical data. Should Ike flee. The Unknown Regions, of which the Empire of the Hand had made some headway into, though the length and breadth of Wild Space had been mostly secured. Projections of current strength told High Command that they could likely secure two hundred and fifty sectors with assets to hand, and assets proposed, in the next two decades, though the disposition of strength across those sectors was not given data.

    Of more idle interest was the state of the galaxy at large. Though the data was a few months old, it told a great deal. A full quarter of the galaxy remained in legitimate Imperial and warlord hands. There had been more at the time of the Galactic Concordance earlier this year, but annexations under the treaty and in response to breaches of the peace by various Imperial factions had seen more territory in the Core and Outer Rim removed from Imperial hands. A cold war prevailed, with the Empire, with three shipyards left, and limited economic access to the Hydian Way, the Empire was going to slowly deteriorate.

    So what the Sith were going to do was mildly beyond her. That being said, if history was anything, and she had been a teen during the Sith-Imperial War in their home timeline, the democratic powers that be would collapse into civil war anyway.

    Esmeralda shrugged off the thought. Kronos had a mission. Another near suicide mission. To take down a High Lord. And kick off a civil war, probably.

    Which just made her previous thought about democratic wisdom even more sickening. The Sith would be destroyed before the New Republic collapsed. Knowing how crushed the Empire had been at the Battles of Endor, Jakku and Coruscant in this timeline, she imagined it'd be decades before the New Republic caught up to the Sith, so flush in their total victory.

    Another mental sigh.

    Kronos had taken her by the arm and she'd absently allowed him, but she knew he'd expect her to say something. Marshalling herself, she finally spoke, neutrally.

    'So what's the plan?'

    TAG: @Darth Kronos
    ---
    Csilla

    The bolt from Invadator, accidental, hitherto unintended, sung out, skipping across the jawline of the sole Chiss officer that had arrived to meet them; a man who was swiftly joined by score more soldiers in black, five rappelling from the hangar roof, five rushing from between the canisters to the sides of the room to flank their commander, and then, surprisingly, two quintets emerging from the very ice itself to their left and right.

    Their droid, banal as ever, simply looked to Kwea and said. 'Told ya we should have took her down.'

    The officer himself, unruffled by his brush with death, simply glanced to his men to ensure they were all in position and returned his gaze to the new arrivals. 'Explain. Am I to take this as a spasm of electronics by your droid.' He indicated with his chin to Invadator, 'Or a calmly calculated assassination ploy?'

    A short appraisal would recognise a consistency to each fivesome of soldiers; two would have charric rifles, Chiss weapons designed to have a greater kinetic impact which, for a saber wielder, would result in their hands literally shaking from a direct deflection, while one would have an ion blaster. The last two held projectile guns, designed not to fire blaster bolts, but sprays of sharpened metal; very difficult to block with a lightsaber.

    In short, anti-Sith weapons.

    The Chiss' expression darkened. The shot had also revealed all of his immediately available assets, acting to the threat with military precision, but he said nothing.

    He snapped his fingers before Kwea could comment. 'You will accept the handing over of your droids while you are on Csilla.' The two quintets to the left and right respectively took a step forward, to emphasise the point.

    TAG: @Halle Dray, @Anakin.Skywalker
    ---
    Zakuulian Swamps

    The Jedi were responding sluggishly. Poorly. In an instant, one hound leapt forward and grabbed Jole by the throat, landing and dragging him down.

    Antares Draco winced, but he did not pull tight to Radian and T'tkura. He had felt a strand of direction between the pack and another; a Force impulse. With a flourish, Draco dove forward, through the gap the hound had left in the cordon, and within moments he was homing in on Darth Anark, tugging at his connection to the pack to find him. 'There's a Sith behind this!'

    The pack closed ranks, attempting to respond uniformly; another sign of coordination. The portions of the pack here clearly had split in two; an inner encirclement, and a rear one, jostling around the edges for an opportunity to pounce.

    To kill.

    Radian and T'tkura were in trouble.

    TAG: @Snokers, @ConservativeJedi321 (last tag before being GM'd), @dragonsith13, @theometric (last tag before death)

    ---
    Castle rubble

    Reticent Titus nonetheless gave Soliloquy time to have his seconds long exchange. But it also did not make much difference.

    Insipid sought to bring his conversation with Jagall to an end as Kronos lifted off, and also one of the Jedi's life signals faded. Maddening. He could hardly kill Ike and Haretisch simultaneously unless he had coordination.

    He himself had to confront Bellorum. That would undoubtedly be fun.

    With a nod, he went to move on, but his comlink beeped. It was a recorded audio message. From General Barrett, sent to the three triumvirs. With a growl, Insipid allowed it to be shown to Titus, Jagall and Soliloquy.

    It was a Chiss officer, and Insipid had only paid attention to his core name on introduction. Those T's at the end of his name had broken it up to be easier to remember the long hand but Insipid cared not for such things.

    Triumvirs. It has been brought to the attention of the Grand Admiral that am incursion into Imperial space has occurred, and it has interfered with one of your missions.

    The Chiss consulted his datapad.

    One Heskal, a Scion of Zakuul, has been extracted by the terrorists known as the First Order. I would expect that you have used your own resources, ample as they are -

    Hard sarcasm there. The General did not approve of the Sith Project, obviously.

    - to track the enemy. The Grand Admiral has directed that I lead the mission to pursue the same. I am presently aboard the flagship of your task force. I require seven Sith, in accordance with your obligations to the Empire of the Hand. I await your deployment.

    Seven.

    The transmission came to an end.

    Insipid pouted. 'Soliloquy, Titus, you may have a new commander. I may come along if necessary to make up the Generals quota.'

    The God-Emperor indicated the final shuttle; Kronos' damaged one. It was serviceable, and flew, but it would not break orbit with that pockmarked hull. The perfect cover for Jagall.

    'It is time.'

    Insipid paid Jagall no more heed, as if he was no more important a piece on the table as any other, but as he stalked up the ramp and turned, his robe flowing, he palmed the controls and was sure to catch his eye. A smile was not so much shown on the God-Emperor's craggy lips as echoed in the Force, and then his scarred visage, the face of Snoke, vanished with the ramp.

    'Soliloquy, you have the ship.'

    He sat, not buckled in, but with the Force to hand should he need it. Insipid saw no need to make small talk with resolute Titus. 'Did you get a fix on Heskal yet?'

    Insipid allowed his mind to go slack. It was possible Thrawn was interfering in the politics of the Sith, thus requesting seven Sith, but usually he'd do that personally. Well, as personally as a Chiss who refused to appear in person to the Sith. So perhaps this was just an appropriate response.

    Perhaps.

    The AI silently handed Soliloquy the information, which matched the coordinates a simple triangulation would also yield.

    TAG: @Mitth-Fisto, @Darth_Elu, @Darth Master Titus


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  13. Sinrebirth Immortal Mod-King of the EUC, RPF and SWC

    Manager
    Member Since:
    Nov 15, 2004
    star 8
    IC: Nameless First Order Captain
    En route, in orbit

    Maligna was dead, and it left Mallace and Saadi as immediate opponents. Saadi was garbed as an officer, Mallace, midway through dress.

    It was to them how this moment would go.

    Though the Sentinel-class shuttle did shake anew, caught in a... tractor beam?

    Outside, the Raider fired ineffectively at the Tusken brothers, suddenly well aware that it's Interceptor screen had been picked apart by their flying and the TIE pilots sudden act of coordination. The captain was not an idiot however. It knew without range, the smaller ships would pick him apart. Directing the corvette to turn, he instead tractored the shuttle, intending to use the act both as opportunity and feint.

    Either the Tuskens and their ally refocused to cut the tractor beam, or they continued to damage the corvette, which would survive the attack for the most part; definitely before it turned for hyperspace. If the Tuskens and TIE pilot were not careful, the shuttle would be taken along with the corvette.

    The TIE pilot was out of position, it looped away from the corvette to make a run at the tractor but was forced away by a barrage of fire; the captain had directed his guns to focus on coverage of the tractor, but equally silenced his other guns and redirected the spare energy to the shields.

    But he did drop the jamming.

    The Sentinel immediately cried out. 'This is shuttle AA-9, reissuing immediate aid.'

    'This is General Barrett, aboard the Lesser Insipid. I carry the flag for the Sith flotilla. We are releasing a vessel to assist.'

    There was some consternation within the Sith task force, but indeed a capital ship was moving out of the gravity well; Barrett had commanded Kronos' own ship to break for the skirmish. But it could not micro jump until it was free of the moons gravity; a moment minutes away at best. A squadron of fighter craft left its hangar bay, but they were tens of minutes out.

    Too long.

    The Raider captain opened a channel to the Tuskens. 'You've clearly never played dejarik, Sith scum. If you move away from my ship now, I'll spare you.'

    'This is Stele.' A grim voice cut across the channel. The TIE pilot. 'We've seen that move before, thanks.' Stele thread his fighter through the cannon fire expertly, but was unable to pull back towards the corvette. 'If only I had shields!' Stele expressed frustration, and cut the line to focus.

    'Well?' The Imperial voice was arch, sycophantic. 'What's it to be, Slime?'

    The corvette was nearly completing its turn and what efforts they had made were not impeding it.

    TAG: @Darth Kronos, @Mostlymad, @Dagobahsystem


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  14. Lady Belligerent •Grand Inquisitor of EUC • Adoptions Coordinator•

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    Jan 29, 2008
    star 7
    GM Update
    IC: Lady Zalen

    Hesper's shuttle


    Zalen shivered from the memory of endless days frozen in carbonite. Some kind of witchcraft had caused everyone aboard the shuttle to relive their past, and she had mostly fought it off. She'd glanced around and seen several of the Sith lose consciousness, even Osnil's kadu had thrashed around the cabin as if he was experiencing something horrible. Zalen had managed to stay alert, but she flinched at the sudden outbreak of a baritone voice shouting in a mixture of basic and Huttese.

    "No!" She shouted as she shivered again and wiped away the feelings of a long and slimy Hutt tongue caressing her cheek. Nausea hit, but this time she was able to escape him and his cohorts. "Never again," she'd spat through clinched teeth and fought harder to block the wretched taunting Hutt's voices.

    She looked over to Ike, and he appeared okay. Standing, she felt around the wrist of he Sithspawn for a pulse, or some indication that he was still living. Unable to find a heartbeat, Zalen dug around for his face and felt his shallow breath, "okay, he's breathing," she spoke aloud to herself and wandered around the rest of the shuttle to check on the other crew members.

    The wound on Lady Hesper's head appeared worse than it actually was. Zalen had gently prodded it before applying a bacta soaked bandage just as a precaution.

    As they neared the Temple hangar, Zalen stood and read from messages that had been transmitted to her datapad. "Temple command has forwarded assignments to me - Lady Hesper, you are to report to General Barrett aboard the Lesser Insipid. Cocytus and Osnil - you'll be taking your comedy act on the road...go with her. The General will have instructions for you as well.

    Ravenous, your instructions are to report to the medcenter and spend some time on your health.

    Leda, you and I are assigned to gather intelligence from a privately owned commercial star destroyer of some sort." Zalen looked up from the datapad to speak directly to Leda, "I think this might require we assemble some specific gear and apparel. I'll request additional details and message you before we are to depart."

    Besides the kadu Dupey, the last person in the shuttle was Ike. Zalen double checked the details on her datapad to be sure she hadn't missed anything for him before addressing his presence.

    "Ike," she called out in a firm, school mistress tone, "you are to um...well, just do whatever it is you usually do," then she spoke out to the group, "I suggest you message command if you have questions, otherwise it appears we are done."

    Some done more than others, maybe, when they next saw Bellorum. Zalen had a feeling she wouldn't be very pleased over the demise of her star destroyer.

    ------

    Sith Temple

    The datapad in Astra's quarters chimed to notify the user of a new message.

    You are assigned to a team traveling to the Luxury Elite. Obtain gear suited for a social setting to blend in with the customers. Lady Zalen will have credcards to cover 'reasonable and necessary gambling' so that you appear to be a customer. The shuttle departs in one standard day.


    Tag: @corinthia @QueenSabe7 @WookieeRage @Darth Osnil @Darth Cocytus @Sinrebirth
  15. corinthia Jedi Master

    Member Since:
    Feb 16, 2016
    star 4
    Sub-GM Update

    IC: Lady Hesper
    Shuttle to New Moraband

    The voices of her team swam loudly in Hesper's ears. Her head was still abuzz with all that had happened in her vision-scape, even though her tears had dried and she was now checking on the others aboard before heading back to the Temple on New Moraband. Osnil commented on what he had seen; Ravenous continued to spew vile puke. Leda muttered to herself. Zalen was busying herself with checking on everyone. Cocytus suggested reflection and meditation following their collective visions.

    "Yes, meditation," Hesper said quietly, absently, and a little sourly. Zalen had appeared before her with a med kit, and carefully applied a bacta patch to Hesper's face after gently prodding at the fresh wound. She hissed mildly in pain as the bandage touched her, but as soon as Zalen was done, she waved her away and set coordinates to the Temple's hangar.

    As she flew, Zalen read to the shuttle the missives she'd received from Temple command. Hesper listened intently, eye trained on New Moraband, but ears trained on Zalen's voice.

    "Temple command has forwarded assignments to me," Zalen began. "Lady Hesper, you are to report to General Barrett aboard the Lesser Insipid." Hesper nodded. "Cocytus and Osnil, you're to go with her. The General will have instructions for you as well. Ravenous, your instructions are to report to the medcenter and spend some time on your health. Leda, you and I are assigned to gather intelligence from a privately owned commercial Star Destroyer of some sort."

    They pass through atmo as Zalen addresses Leda. "I think this might require we assemble some specific gear and apparel. I'll request additional details and message you before we are to depart." Hesper was a bit disappointed to see Leda assigned to a task not with her; but, regardless, Hesper was sure Leda's talents would be put to good use.

    "Ike," Zalen called out after a long pause. "You are to, um... well, just do whatever it is you usually do." Then she addressed the group. "I suggest you message command if you have questions, otherwise it appears we are done."

    Hesper nodded curtly as Zalen finished her announcements. Hesper had heard whisperings about Ike's recent status. Though she had trusted him once... now, she was not so sure. There were few she could trust, now.

    The Temple's hangar came into view soon after, and Hesper guided it as best she could one-eyed into its landing space. She quickly unbuckled all her safety belts and stood to address everyone before they disembarked. "Everyone," she said in her quiet, yet commanding, voice. "Although this mission failed, I thank you for your work." Though it felt as though there were more words waiting on her tongue, Hesper let it hang at that.

    Then then picked her way to the shuttle's ramp, passing by all those aboard. She paused to eye Ike warily before exiting-- every time she looked at him, she felt a strange tug in the Force. He was in trouble. Or he was trouble. Most likely both. Hesper did her best to shrug off the feeling as she ghosted through the hangar. She wanted to stop by her quarters before reporting to the Lesser Insipid. Cocytus and Osnil would surely beat her there, but she minded little for their bickering and eagerness.

    Hesper felt numb as she walked through the halls that would take her to the lift to her quarters' level. Her plan to gain a foothold in the slippery slope that was the Sith Empire's Triumvirate had failed. With the Obelisk destroyed, there would be no more comms station through which to receive communications intended for Lady Bellorum. She would still be able to receive those intended for the Lesser Insipid and the Revelator, but the triad wasn't complete-- and Bellorum could very well be the slipperiest of them all. Hesper trusted none of them, and she wanted in on their inner workings and schemes. After all, the only way to the top Hesper could foresee required her to get there from the inside. As much as she had little faith in her superiors, still, she needed them. For all their flaws and complexes, she needed them.

    Soon, she reached her quarters, and let herself in. She immediately set about undressing; whatever it was this General Barrett would have her do, Hesper felt certain a beautiful dress would be absolutely impractical. She traded her long, wispy black dress for a pair of high-waisted slim black trousers tucked into the same black boots, with a laden utility belt and thigh holster with a standard blaster cinched around her waist, and a surprisingly delicate pure white tucked-in blouse. Adjusting the cuffs that reach half-way up her forearms from her wrists, Hesper checked herself over in the mirror and swept her hair back into a long, loose braid before adding her favorite Death Trooper pauldrons. She clipped her saber to her belt on her right hip, along with the data pad Leda prepared for her. Of the other two sabers she carries, Hesper picked up her long-dead husband's, clipping it to her other hip.

    She sighed.

    The visions from earlier, try as she might to ignore them, still lurked in the back of her mind. An alternate reality and a possible reality... Hesper shook her head. Folly, the lot of it! She swallowed down the lump in her throat, and threw a black cloak around her shoulders before leaving for the same hangar bay she'd just left. Her face was still unwashed, the bandage Zalen applied becoming sticky and dark, but at least she felt more practically dressed.

    Within just a few minutes, she found herself aboard a different shuttle, lifting off to meet the Lesser Insipid in orbit. As she piloted it towards the Emperor's flagship, she made a few keystrokes to hail the Star Destroyer.

    "Lesser Insipid, this is High Lord Hesper requesting permission to dock. I have instructions to report to a certain General Barrett," she said into the comm. She sat back as she removed her finger from the comm's button, and waited for permission to land.

    TAG: @Lady Belligerent, @Darth Cocytus, @Darth Osnil, @WookieeRage, @QueenSabe7, @Sinrebirth
  16. Sinrebirth Immortal Mod-King of the EUC, RPF and SWC

    Manager
    Member Since:
    Nov 15, 2004
    star 8
    IC: Elsewhere
    Unknown

    Of course, it was relative to say that someone was in an unknown location, this unreliable narrator decided.

    But he was following a loose end across the Great Unknown Regions, as he liked to call it.

    Why Grand? Because even now, not even two years after the Battle of Endor, there was a balkanisation of the region occurring. On one part, the Chiss Ascendancy, holding its territories close. On the other, the 'Empire of the Hand', expanding itself from Niruaun across to the swamp world of Zakuul. This did not take account of the Imperial remnant of Rae Sloane, carving a territory in the north west. Even then, none of this accounted for the fact that the Great Unknown was already occupied by a patchwork of Terrors, terrifying threats ancient and new and vast and remnant.

    And so he could only say what was truly unknown was this; the man known as Darth Manticore.

    He wanted to know what vision the Zantac had been granted.

    --

    It hit like a migraine, at first, a striking between his golden yellow eyes, a needle that became flex, worming its way past his formidable shields. The Vision of the Celestial Holocron, as it would become known, was not without pain, without tenacity, and when it realised that there was a member of the Sith Empire elsewhere, walking a solitary path, it sought out the man, and made him belong to the Grand Design.

    --

    There was a drop like a stone, and Manticore came to in a room unlike any other. The walls were white, but not just that; it all was white. For as far as the eye could see.

    His gaze could not penetrate it, and, he would realise; nor could his Force senses. He was isolated, cut off. Either by the breadth of space around him, or by its tightness. There was no shadow to him, just an endless white expanse.

    'Definition eludes you, I see.'

    With that voice, a flash of memory, of a brutal lightsaber duel; an ambush which had seen the Zabrak lose a chunk of his thigh - the wound was missing - but not before the weapon was buried to the hilt in his stomach; the thigh wound had simply been to prevent him from walking without pouring the Force into doing so.

    His foe had been robed, cowl lifted. Even as he had ducked his head under Manticore's decapitating swing, and dove forward, the enemy had bowed his head low, as if violence was his calling, a sacred duty to perform upon the Zabrak.

    'Do not feel special,' that unwinding tone, conciliatory but also condescending. 'You are not my sacrament, not even a sin I must reflect upon and rectify.'

    Unwinding, like the flexing of his opponents spindly hand, not a moment before a bolt of energy had earthed itself in the hole running through his stomach, filling Manticore with such pain that he had, unforgivably, blacked out.

    More events had filled the gap between there and here. But he could not recall them.

    The voice finished.

    'You are purely an experiment, my dear. Your entire Order are but flies in my ointment, and I do so enjoy picking at your wings.'

    A snap of a finger, and another falling.

    Manticore awoke in the dream, on a bed; a stone cot, back on Moraband. Not the new, not at all, but the Old, back in the Stygian Caldera. Was it back in his own time? A taste of the Force did not reveal personalities he recognised; indeed the Force remained dead to him.

    'You're still here, do not concern yourself.'

    A whirling, at the voice, so real, so close, the cloaked and flowed foe leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed, revealing more of the humanoid, definitely male, those long fingers evident, his tallness apparent now, not disguised behind the downpour in the alleyway where they had met on the world of -

    --

    Manticore had woke from his vision. Back aboard his private shuttle, among the Chiss worlds. His apprentice was not evident; his wounds, gone. A sending?

    --

    He parsed at the vision, tasted it. As he had suspected, Manticore's distance from Zakuul had enabled him to draw a clearer picture of events to come; uncoloured by the squabbling and infighting. It only solidified his intention to make Manticore the first.

    Now? No, not now.

    This Snoke had yet to unravel how the Seven fit into events. Who the black masked man was who would make it all true. He feared that his own perceptions had been coloured by the Sith Empire; thus why he saw the faces of six Sith behind the masked man; Manticore had been visible among them, with others. Now he had been to Manticore, the next one had become visible to him.

    He had another visit to attend to.

    And once he saw her, he would continue on, hunting the full membership of the Seven, until he was certain as to their identities, and then he would act.

    Excellent.

    TAG: @greyjedi125, no-one, everyone


    Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
  17. Lady Belligerent •Grand Inquisitor of EUC • Adoptions Coordinator•

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    Jan 29, 2008
    star 7
    IC: boy
    castle grounds

    The boy snickered at the Ithorian's use of inspire to assist his companions, but he kept his head turned and eyes searching the waters edge for the rancor. He could sense every moment of the newcomers behind him, and almost issued a warning against attacking him...almost. Instead his interest was piqued by the beautiful woman with striking golden eyes. She'd remained silent, but watching him intently. The boy didn't like intense scrutiny at all. In fact, it angered him.

    He didn't want anyone to discover his weaknesses, and her piercing stare felt like she was examining his very soul. No. She can't do that he decided. He's more powerful than the lot of them and they needed to respect his brilliance.

    These fools would acknowledge his superior intellect, and power.

    With lightning speed, the boy spun around to face the woman and - well...his breath caught in his throat. His eyes narrowed and his posture was anxious.

    She was gone.

    He swiftly whirled with arms spread. The winds picked up at his command and whipped his shabby coattails as it picked up leaves and swirled around the child.
    Opening his mouth, he wailed. He poured his fury into the torrent of wind.

    Then as suddenly as he'd started, he stopped. Lips pursed and forehead crinkled in thought, he realized it wasn't possible. She couldn't disappear from him.

    He slowed his breathing and searched in the Force where just moments before he'd felt her ice cold presence. He'd find her...

    No, he wouldn't find Arach, at least not until she wanted him to find her. She'd slipped silently into the shadows with her essence cleverly concealed.

    The boy trembled in anger. No one left without his dismissal and he wasn't done with the golden eyed lady. This hadn't happened before, but then he didn't get visits from strange Force users. He stood in silence contemplating if he should even acknowledge how she'd slipped thought his grasp.

    "Well," he spat as he started again towards the water, "it looks like your friend didn't want to stay." The boy shrugged like he didn't care, but it would be hard to explain his tantrum moments ago...so, he wouldn't. He never has to explain his actions to anyone.

    "Come on," he prodded the Ithorian and the remaining female. "The beasts are coming and they are hungry."

    Tag: @dragonsith13 @DarthIshyZ @corinthia
  18. Darth Osnil Jedi Knight

    Member Since:
    Sep 29, 2016
    star 4
    Darth Osnil
    Aboard the Shuttle

    New assignments already. It appeared as if nobody wanted to discuss the visions. Of course, Osnil was certain that everyone saw something different, and some things were more. . . personal than others. "Cocytus and Osnil, you'll be taking your comedy act on the road. . . go with her. The General has instructions for you as well." Osnil wasn't sure if he should celebrate or mourn; on one hand he was getting away from Lady Zalen, but on the other hand he was still with Cocytus and his terrifyingly glares. Osnil shivered as he looked away from the Kaminoan.

    He turned his attention and thoughts to Dupy, who was acting unnaturally nervous. Earlier it was thrashing around while everyone else received visions. "Itsa okie-day, Dupy," Osnil cooed, petting the Kaadu's nose. "Did yousa see somethin', too?" His thoughts wandered back to his vision, and how to, if he could, prevent it from occurring. He was going to attempt to learn the Third Lightsaber Form for starters.

    Before Osnil could think any further on the matter, Hesper made contact with the Lesser Inspid and requested to board. What did General Barrett have for him and Cocytus to do?

    TAG: @corinthia @Lady Belligerent @Darth Cocytus and the rest of the crew aboard the shuttle.
  19. Snokers Jedi Master

    Member Since:
    Jul 8, 2015
    star 4
    IC: Darth Anark
    Zakuulian Swamps


    A long drawn, high whistle lifted above the noise of savagery and battle and there was a unified thud as the pack of hungry hounds all sat at once and without hesitation. Even the one that had been trying to rip into and open Jole’s throat ceased its attack and planted its back end firmly on the ground.

    Darth Anark stood in the centre of the protective wall the creatures had sealed him in, still struck with a mixture of exhilaration and confusion that these beasts seemed to have attached their age old signature in the Dark Side of the Force with his relatively new one. His senses felt heightened within him, hearing each hound’s steady inhale and then exhale, every low growl as if it were inches away from his own ears.

    The Sith hadn’t eaten in days, had suffered injury when the ship had fallen onto Zakuul, had walked for miles through the planets harsh terrain with no doubt broken limb and hadn’t been in contact with a member of the Empire in days.

    Anark brought his gaze up from his new-found army, dozens of giant pointed ears standing to attention for the command to kill. He looked into the eyes of each Jedi. Jole was on his feet. Anark’s gaze settled on Antares Draco. He spoke to him with his eyes as he moved forth, snaking through the gaps in the creatures formation.

    Anark unclipped the broach holding his robes together and let them fall into the dirt, he yanked the black glove from each hand with his teeth and spat them out to land with the other garment. He stopped in his tracks, never taking his gaze from Draco and pulled off his battle armour until he stood only in an under garment, combat bottoms and heavy boots. He pulled the undershirt over his head, the fabric clung to him and it took a few tugs to free himself.

    Draco’s face offered nothing as the Sith stood, eyes still fixed on him, bare skin exposed, a broad frame with muscle and protruding vein decorating his thick arms. Anark felt Zakuul’s warm, humid wind wash over him, his torso was adorned with the scars of battles long since won. Some told stories of narrow escapes, some trophies from his trials when he was apprenticed to Insipid, even some that he’d inflicted upon himself to satisfy his self-destructive urges. His skin was smooth save for a small patch of hair nestled in the dip of his chest at the top of a toned abdomen.

    It was not at all set in stone that he would defeat Draco but he would not allow the pack to assist him. It was his notion that this victory would be important. The one that would rocket him to High Lord status.

    Darth Anark broke the silence at last, yellowed eyes still trained on his opponent.

    “Mine.” He uttered the words with a snarl and reached out his hand. A clink as his own lightsaber hilt was unclipped from Draco’s belt with the Force. It felt good when Anark caught his weapon in his hands.

    He ignited it, the blade screeching to life in a blaze of red. He pointed it at Draco and began to march towards him…



    TAG: @ConservativeJedi321 @theometric @Sinrebirth or whoever is controlling Draco...
  20. greyjedi125 Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Apr 29, 2002
    star 5
    IC: Darth Manticore
    Elsewhere, Unknown Regions

    Stygian Executor of the Sith. Battle Lord. High Lord.

    Within the darkened chamber, Darth Manticore sat in lotus position; hovering half a meter from the stone floor. His saber-staff floated before him, just within arms reach.

    The Sith Warrior sat stoking his ambition- his desire, immersing himself even deeper in the darkside of the force.

    Mortis.

    It had shown him his limits- and he despised it. Failure lead to death, and he had died. But now, the darkside showed favor by granting him an opportunity to be more, to go beyond- to transform. And so it would be.

    This new existence was the key.

    A meter ahead of his floating weapon, Tulak Hord’s Holocron rested upon the cold floor. Silent.

    From the ruined and deserted world Manticore and his Apprentice sojourned, a plan began to form. The harsh conditions around them only served to prompt his resolve- for this planet was chosen specifically for that purpose- and more.

    Manticore understood now that he needed to sacrifice a world. One where conflict reigned. The pair had scouted this unfamiliar region for sometime, expanding their knowledge and understanding, and eventually found such a world. A bloody and vicious civil war was consuming the populace; it now only needed to serve a true purpose; one of his design.

    He needed to be more-much more. What good was a sword that had an equal?

    The knowledge hidden within Tulak Hord’s holocron was only part of the ascendant equation. Ancient knowledge fused with that of present day Force Titans was the only way to exceed- and to that end, he needed to draw 'them' from hiding.

    That’s when he felt it.

    Pain.

    Naturally, pain was something he was quite intimate with. However, pain came through a catalyst. This migraine persisted and grew despite his best efforts to quell the sensation. Manticore’s fiery eyes opened. He’d felt no danger near or far….

    How then?

    In an instant, the darkened chamber seemed to be spinning out of control and he felt like he was falling. As he tried to regain control, he thought he heard his weapon clatter upon the floor, even as he began to lose consciousness, no matter how much focus he brought about to the contrary.

    Clearly he was under some kind of attack.

    After several blinks of his eyes, Manticore awoke somewhere else: A white room surrounded by white walls…wait…was this Mortis? Again?

    No, it didn’t feel the same. The zabrak gleaned no information from his surroundings, not via his natural or force senses. There was no sound, no smell, no wind, no perceivable distance. He was isolated and completely cut off.

    Was this a test? Had they found him at last?

    There wasn't even any shadow to him? Hmmm. Was that significant in some way?

    ‘Definition eludes you, I see.’

    A voice. Not recognized. Unseen. Uninvited. A new enemy?

    Manticore’s eyes narrowed. His senses gleaned nothing still, but a sudden memory flashed in his mind; that of a brutal lightsaber duel. The kind he would normally delight in.

    As a Sith warrior, an ambush was something he always expected. It was their way. Wounds were like breaths. They meant you were still alive. Tactical wounding was par for the course. All was at it should be- or so it seemed.

    However, never had he faced such a foe like this one. The Sith Battle Lord had proven himself to be a Master of his Craft, to such a degree, that he could count the number of worthy opponents in one hand and still have fingers left over. Against this opponent, the zabrak seemed a rank amateur. How was this even possible? Who was this cloaked figure who ducked under a blind-sided decapitating counter with such fluid ease?

    ‘Do not feel special.’

    There it was. Foolish talk, seeking to distract him. A failed tactic from the onset.

    ‘You are not my sacrament, not even a sin I must reflect upon to rectify.’

    There was nothing familiar or revealing about this mysterious assassin. All things considered, such a detail was negligible. The skill however…

    A thunderous discharge of energy tore through the zabrak’s abdomen, and no technique he summoned kept him from navigating through the unbearable pain or becoming unconscious as a result. Oh, Fury and Hate!

    Haze and darkness, shreds of half remembered events clouded his mind. Was any of this even real?

    ‘You are purely an experiment, my dear. Your entire Order are but flies in my ointment, and I do so enjoy picking at your wings.’

    There was the sensation of falling once again and waking once again, this time in a familiar place. A place that no longer was.

    Moraband.

    Was this possible? yes. But was this real? The zabrak’s force senses could not confirm it- for the Force was dead to him.

    ‘You are still here, do not concern yourself.’

    Manticore concluded that the voice belonged to a powerful new enemy, though one he did not recognize. Did the Sith Triumvirate encounter someone that surpassed even their collective might in the Force? And what of the deified Emperor Insipid? Indeed, there were too many unanswered questions- but the singular most important one: How was he going to deal with this new threat?

    Could this be a lesser shade of Typhojem? It didn’t feel that way, but it didn’t need to either.

    Manticore sat up from the familiar stone cot. He didn’t miss Moraband, for it had served its purpose. Long ago he’d learned the hefty price of being weakened by sentimentality.

    If this enemy was trying to break him- this would not do at all.

    As it was, it felt as if the cloaked figure had been right next to him, but was now leaning on the doorframe to the spartan room, arms crossed over his chest. Tall, male. Still unfamiliar.

    Manticore despised mind-games, though he understood their tactical value.

    The zabrak made to get up and stand, which was a not-so subtle act of defiance, as was his nature- but by the time he was on his ‘feet’, he had surfaced and awoken in the ‘real’ world.

    The Stygian Executor was standing within the darkened chamber once again. Tulak Hord’s holocron was exactly where he’d left it. Manticore looked to his right and saw his saber-staff on the floor. It had rolled away for several meters, just as he recalled. With a slight gesture, the weapon flew to its Master’s hand and was immediately ignited. Manticore lowered the brilliant red blade and touched the underside of his left forearm with it.

    The humming sound of the sith weapon was joined by the sizzle of burning skin and rising wisps of smoke. Manticore showed no visible reaction. A moment later, the scent of burnt skin wafted over the zabrak’s nostrils.

    Hmmm. Nothing seemed amiss.

    But that wasn’t entirely true.

    The cloaked figure was someone. Who exactly, he did not know. But it was someone powerful enough to find him and enter his mind unbidden. No easy feat that. It was not hard to imagine besting the sentient who’s mind you could penetrate- in fact, it was a foregone conclusion, hence the result of the duel. What he had seen was not a ‘memory’. But something both sinister and intriguing considering all that he knew up until now.

    Typhojem by any other name? Perhaps. Perhaps not at all. Still, a new element had made itself known upon the arena.

    Strengthening his mental barriers now took a new imperative and priority.

    Indeed, he needed to become far stronger, far quicker than what he had anticipated. The time table and the results he sought needed to be redrawn.

    There was no doubt about it now -not that there ever was. The sword needed to be reforged into something new and far more terrifying than before.

    With his blackened lips and warrior’s heart, he offered a whispered votive.

    “ Through strength, I gain Power.
    Through Power, I gain Victory.
    Through Victory, my chains are broken.”

    Manticore narrowed his fiery gaze and leveled it at the holocron sitting quietly upon the floor.

    “ The Force shall free me.”

    He intoned with heartfelt finality. The zabrak reached out with is burned left arm, calling Hord’s holocron to his hand. Manticore grasped the object firmly and stared it down.

    Lord Tulak Hord. We need to talk.”

    To be continued…


    Tag: @Sinrebirth ( if necessary )
    Last edited by greyjedi125, Jul 15, 2017 at 12:57 PM
  21. Mitth_Fisto Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Sep 29, 2005
    star 6
    IC: Soliloquy
    Heskal's wreck

    Soliloquy noted and made the gesture of asking for the droid to have nodded it's head to Reticent Titus for the time given for it to have the seconds long exchange. But it also did not make much difference.

    With a nod, the Emperor went to move on, but his comlink beeped. It was a recorded audio message. From General Barrett, sent to the three triumvirs. With a growl, Insipid allowed it to be shown to Titus, Jagall and Soliloquy.

    It was a Chiss officer. Interesting.

    Triumvirs. It has been brought to the attention of the Grand Admiral that am incursion into Imperial space has occurred, and it has interfered with one of your missions.

    The Chiss consulted his datapad.

    One Heskal, a Scion of Zakuul, has been extracted by the terrorists known as the First Order. I would expect that you have used your own resources, ample as they are -

    Hard sarcasm there. The General did not approve of the Sith Project, obviously. That was alright. Approval was not needed, and by the AI Soliloquy had to play host to at the moment it was neither desired.

    - to track the enemy. The Grand Admiral has directed that I lead the mission to pursue the same. I am presently aboard the flagship of your task force. I require seven Sith, in accordance with your obligations to the Empire of the Hand. I await your deployment.

    Seven. A bit on the nose there if Thrawn it felt, but what could they do? Not much, not much at all.

    The transmission came to an end.

    Insipid pouted. A most un-Emperor thing to do, something which Soliloquy let bleed through it's disapproval of to the AI. 'Soliloquy, Titus, you may have a new commander. I may come along if necessary to make up the Generals quota.'

    The God-Emperor indicated the final shuttle; Kronos' damaged one. It was serviceable, and flew, but it would not break orbit with that pockmarked hull. The perfect cover for Jagall.

    'It is time.'

    Insipid paid Jagall no more heed. Now that was a good show, not that Soliloquy shared such a thought nor showed it. A smile was not so much shown on the God-Emperor's craggy lips as echoed in the Force, and then his scarred visage, the face of Snoke, vanished with the ramp.

    'Soliloquy, you have the ship.'

    He sat, not buckled in, but with the Force to hand should he need it. Insipid saw no need to make small talk with resolute Titus. 'Did you get a fix on Heskal yet?'

    "Either we will discover Heskal or a trap. Surely we are eager for both." Soliloquy simply stated with a lilting singsong voice of an eager child.It was then the AI silently handed Soliloquy the information, which matched the coordinates a simple triangulation would also yield. Tapping at the controls it set them in motion. "I've got a lovely bunch of Terentateks. . .diddly-dee. . .there they are all chomping in a row. Big ones, small ones. . ." the small child's voice continued to echo from it's emitters as the droid did it's task. The rhythm and pitch constantly lost to the actions of the moment and rhythm of the ships engines.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth, @Darth_Elu, @Darth Master Titus
  22. Sinrebirth Immortal Mod-King of the EUC, RPF and SWC

    Manager
    Member Since:
    Nov 15, 2004
    star 8
    IC: Barrett
    Bridge

    The eye-patched Chiss General stood with his arms behind his back, looming over the sensors officer, as he watched the interplay with the First Order corvette and the shuttle that was supposed to be completing a simple ferry in of apprentices.

    Maddening. Where was the cordon? The perimeter? He expected this of Darth Insipid, who had the military cunning of a politician - I.e. Goal based and with very little detail - or Bellorum, who had an eye for the finer things in life and was a hedonist in his opinion, but Haretisch had the profile of a military mind; records of the Battle of Moraband from the Sith indicated a layered approach, with every angle met and planned out.

    Not the kind of thing that Barrett had seen here. One Star Destroyer imperilled, an enemy incursion all but unmolested. Maddening. Absolutely maddening.

    'High Lord Hespar's shuttle is en route.' Barrett nodded, and turned to leave the bridge. 'Keep me updated over the comms; and direct the new arrivals to the flag hanger. I will inspect the Sith apprentices and decide whether they are acceptable for the mission.'

    Three Sith as new arrivals. Hesper. Whatever Sith that Insipid had in tow. Whichever Sith that Bellorum allowed the witch Zalen to release. He'd end up with the irritants, the worst of the lot; the bare minimum that the Triumvirs had to give him. Insipid would not come with him; definitely not - Barrett did not want the loon anyway.

    Somehow Barrett would hammer the seven Sith he took into a decent strike force. He had eight Imperial commandos, adorned in the black version of the old clone Republic Commando armour, one for each of the Sith, to act as both protector an chaperone, and one for Barrett to do the actual work and mission with him. If he trusted any one of the Sith he'd assign them to a separate team; a subset within the deployment. If he couldn't put together a competent attack he'd use the Sith as fodder.

    Pompous titled High Lord or not.

    Barrett headed to the flag hangar to meet his seven commandos and the Sith themselves. He arrived as Control directed the said shuttle to land.

    Hesper first.

    Barrett stood, arms behind his back, legs a shoulder width and chin raised. The eight commandos stood a respectable distance behind, but fully armed should Barrett need to act.

    He was a Chiss.

    He took no chances.

    TAG: @corinthia (immediately), @Darth Master Titus, @Mitth-Fisto (on arrival), @Darth Osnil and @Darth Cocytus (on arrival), @Mostlymad, @Darth Kronos, @Dagobahsystem (for the future, not an immediate tag


    Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
  23. Dagobahsystem Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Sep 25, 2015
    star 6
    IC: Saadi

    The Clawdite quietly followed Maligna into a dark, frigid room and silently slithered into an unlit corner to observe her erratic behavior. From the security of the shadows, the changeling deemed it necessary to conserve energy, and therefore returned to his natural state.

    Abandoning his false officer's garb,
    Saadi watched intently as Maligna released Mallace from her cold stasis and then immediately activated her lightsaber.

    Just what was going on here, anyway?

    A faint, yet ominous ticking sound eerily arose from the depths of the shapeshifter's mind.

    Cursing Lieutenant Shall, Saadi's body tensed up slightly as he descended into a crouched position.
    What sort of intrigue had he become involved in this time? What in the blazes did these surreptitious activities have to do with him?

    Darth Saadi had revenge on his mind.
    He was in no mood for the bizarre distractions that seemed to constantly plague him as of late.

    The metronomic ticking sound began to echo, rebounding incessantly back and forth in his head, causing him to clench his teeth with rage.

    Someone was going to be held responsible for disrupting his meditations and veering him off course from his true mission. From his destiny.

    Watching the sick, writhing creature on the floor, Saadi was counting on Maligna to put her out her misery. He was somewhat surprised when Mallace suddenly rose, and activating her lightsaber, quickly and violently dispatched the distraught Zeltron woman within mere seconds.
    This pathetic thing was powerful after all!

    Sensing a sinister plot and enraged by this betrayal and his superiors' death, Saadi grunted and Force pushed the semi clothed Mallace backwards as he emerged from the darkened corner.

    'What madness is this?' Saadi growled as he advanced, standing to his full height while glaring at Mallace.

    At that precise moment, the Sentinel-class shuttle shook violently once again, and the assassin was forced to grab hold of a handle that was cropping out from the side of the nearest wall.

    Tags: @Sinrebirth @Darth Kronos @Mostlymad
  24. dragonsith13 Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Apr 3, 2005
    star 4
    T'Tkura
    Zakuulian Swamps

    T'Tkura was in the center of it all the movement of the jungle and swamp, the pack of Tukata while acutely present and threatening. The thought that they were not the greatest danger lurking on this world was prominent in his mind. They had to remain bonded, remain vigilant, and focused. Each other was all that they had.
    T’Tkura focused sending out waves of battle meditation and auras of peace to his fellow Jedi. Truth be told this was not a full battle meditation, even at his mastery of the skill. True battle meditation took hours even days to fall into and perform to its true extent and potential. In their battered state that they needed strength and confidence, along with precise strategy to escape this. The force would sustain them when they needed it, but the imminent danger had to be neutralized, he was relying on the others to push and secure their safety for now, to allow for them to move and regroup as necessary.

    Sluggishly… Poorly…

    They were in position, though reeling still Jedi and capable. Draco was ready. Radian, and Jole were mired in indecision and at this last moment T’Tkura focused driving as much of an aura of light to them as he could. It might have been more than adequate… but best plans are always laid to waste. The unexpected movements of Radian to expose the whole group by not creating a perimeter and hiding in the nearby foliage, only served to weaken their defensive posture. Creating a gap and spreading them out… T’Tkura was driving to keep the aura going but the defensive posture and lack of response from Jole was putting them all in grave danger.

    The pack of beast bore down on them… and then it was clear their defensive posture had failed for no other reason than all four of them not fighting in unison. Draco was moving, having recognized the situation even as their position collapsed. Jole was grabbed by the throat and drug across T’Tkura’s view. He could no longer remain in the state.

    T’Tkura sprung up, his remaining arm coming form with a massive force impacting the side of the Tukata gripping Jole in its mouth. His intention being only to break its attention for a moment, the only chance Jole had was to respond and engage. T’Tkura was already spinning and coming about after landing the blow.

    The packs coordination was being driven… he recognized this. T’Tkura’s baser bestial instincts flowed through his blood. He was Jedi, but born within the Whiphid clans. Warriors and hunters. He knew these beasts better than any. Draco was moving… quickly through a gap in the pack, which indicated the greater coordination altogether. T’Tkura knew them man had good interested in the track he followed. Had purpose.

    Radian was lost, present but unresponsive. He could not help him if he did not help himself and fight. Jole while given a chance, had to engage… he had the strength and ability to overcome the Tukata that had pounced on him.

    Draco was moving closer to the threat behind it all…he needed time. And so did the others if the sought to save their selves.

    It was contradictory to everything he believed in…

    T’Tkura’s eyes closed his muscles clenched…

    Sacrifice, he had to save them! How could he save them if they just let themselves die? Jole… Radian…

    A primal instinct stirred. Fighting the Jedi in him, instincts not suppressed nor unwelcomed but not embraced in a long time.

    T’Tkura’s back arched and from deep within him a bellowsome wail began to emerge which turned into a full-throated howl. Echoing across the jungle and swamp. The howl would clearly draw the attention of beasts and beings alike from all around. Particularly a rabid pack of tukata. T’Tkura extended the howl letting it play out and echo.

    Then T’Tkura’s head snapped down lining up with the eyes of a tukata just within the brush thinking it was hidden. A rush and T’Tkura was upon it.. his claws were not dagger sharp, but they were rock sturdy and more than capable as claws and what they could do as such.

    T’Tkura’s remain arm and claw plunged into the side of the tukata. His claws digging into its eye socket and carving it out with a swift scoop, raking through the surrounding tissue and peeling back a gash across the head forcefully pulling back a large layer of flesh.

    He was moving with a pace similar to a beast of the jungle, drawing attention to himself. As he darted across the pack lines. As an alpha male drawing out a challenger, attempting to supersede the control of the nameless darksider clearly behind it all that Draco was soon to be baring down on. If Draco could neutralize the unseen threat, T’Tkura could challenge the pack alpha.

    T’Tkura with tusked baring came upon another tukata, plunging the tusks into its side as he slammed into it. The tukata was larger, but T’Tkura was using the force to drive the beast. As he gored its side blood began sprouting forth, soaking his fur coat with warm blood. Another feral bestial howl as T’Tkura turned back towards the main pack striding forward seeking out the alpha.


    T’Tkura stood exposed almost cover in blood, clenched poised ready to pounce himself. Growling… goading the alpha.

    @ConservativeJedi321, @theometric @Sinrebirth
    Last edited by dragonsith13, Jul 19, 2017 at 7:14 PM
  25. ConservativeJedi321 Jedi Master

    Member Since:
    Mar 19, 2016
    star 5
    IC: Radian T'Lenity
    Zakuulian Swamps

    As the beasts began their attack the Jedi leapt out of his hiding spot in the brush, the Whipid's battle meditation had reinvigorated him, and he struck out with the force. Grabbing one mutt, and tossing it into another. Another beast attempted to tackled him, and with a fierce struggle he felt claws dig into his shoulder, before he managed to get his foot in under it, and launched it into a nearby rock as hard as he could.

    Unfortunately, that kick only seemed to aggravate his sprained ankle. T'Tkura's battle meditation was strong, but it just did not make up for the injuries he had already sustained. In an instant he was on the ground, frozen in pain. The dogs were circling now, perhaps this was the end? At this point he wasn't even sure if he cared if he survived.

    The Whipid chose this instant to leave his meditation, which only drained the Mirialan further. This was not looking well.

    He Sensed Draco's determination. He was in pain, but would not give up. 'There's a Sith behind this!'

    Yes there was, but in their current predicament he wasn't sure how much good that knowledge would do.

    T'Tkura moved forward, challenging one of the larger dogs. This drew some attention away from Radian, who took a few deep breaths, soothing his injuries. Before standing up carefully, and hesitantly moving towards the other Jedi. Unsure of how he could help.

    Tags: @dragonsith13, @theometric, @Sinrebirth
    Last edited by ConservativeJedi321, Jul 20, 2017 at 12:41 PM
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