Star Wars New Sith Trials II: Rise of the Hand

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

Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.
  1. Halle Dray

    Halle Dray Jedi Master star 4

    Jan 6, 2016
    IC: Kwea Acantha
    Aboard the Luxury Elite
    As she landed her fighter, Kwea looked out of the cockpit windows. Her eyes took in the stormtroopers and ruffians fighting, the stormtroopers clearly losing. Sighing at the work ahead of her, she popped the cockpit lid and slid out. As her boots hit the floor, a message blared over the comm system.

    "Good evening, patrons. Ladies and gentlemen. Shameless, filthy wretches. I am afraid the evening’s planned entertainment has been cancelled. In its place, you will witness an ascension. A coronation. I am your Empress now. Herald of Dawn and Queen of Twilight. And I will suffer no blemish to my domain. In a few moments, you will see the parasitic, bloodsucking worms known as Darth Insipid and Darth Haretisch, and all those loyal to them, purged from my sight. Do not interfere. Lay down any arms you may possess and you shall not be harmed in the purification of my empire."

    The young Sith's brow was furrowed as she began to mull over her options. She could stay loyal to Insipid and more than likely die now or become loyal to Bellorum and possibly die later.

    In all honesty, she didn't like any of the Trium. However, Insipid had given her a second chance as well as a new responsibility. She couldn't turn to Haretisch, especially after blowing up his ship and Bellorum, well even though she was strong in the Force, had fought Abeloth with her, and had powerful connections, Kwea didn't know her well at all.

    "Guess, I might die now," Kwea murmured with a shrug right before a familiar, dreaded voice crackled to life.

    "Oh mistress! Thank the maker you are coming to save me! I’m trapped in our shuttle. They’ve used some kind of code to lock down the guns and I can’t incinerate our enemies!"

    K9 is the droid here, can't he figure it out? Kwea thought crossly.

    Sneaking behind various ships and shuttles, the girl made her way to the designated one. As she was staying hidden behind the other shuttles, blaster bolts ricocheted off of the steel walls around her. She eyed the scorch marks before turning her attention to the Besalisks and troopers for a moment. Arriving at her destination, she ignited her purple blade and cut a hole in the door of her shuttle.

    When the molten material fell away, she put her finger to her lips quickly so that K9 wouldn't make one of the loud exclamations which Kwea had found characteristic of droids.

    Then, another message sounded over the system, this time from Insipid.

    "Members of the Sith Empire. As you may now be aware, the triumvirate is broken. Darth Bellorum has made her announcement as ‘Twilight Empress,’ Insipid injected derision into his voice. ‘But I can also confirm that Darth Haretisch has just attempted to kill me, following the Jedi destroying his flagship. I can only assume that Bellorum is in collusion with them, following the timing. With two Jedi Masters and an Imperial Knight, Antares Draco, both of which survived our timeline. Sadly, I have been required to prepare myself for such a Betrayal. While Bellorum digs into the gutter and bathes in the filth of the criminal underworld, Haretisch puts Order and Peace ahead of our own goals as true Sith. Yet another betrayal from Lord Haretisch, after we gave him a second chance after the Mortis debacle. ‘Those preparations required me to align myself with the First Order, who have been battling with the Empire of the Hand in this region, as you all know. I furnished them with sufficient information to thwart Thrawn’s plans for us in subduing Zakuul for him, to make us a cog in his loyalist regime. It was a necessary treachery, necessary to save us from servitude to Thrawn. I regret it, and all the treacheries we have now suffered.
    But the First Order; it needs us. It has no leaders, no grand design. I have offered my services to them as Supreme Leader, and they have accepted, with the intention of us guiding them. The Rule of Seven will give us the ability to secure their future for ourselves; to administer the territory they intend to seize, to generate true power for ourselves - not as sham Imperials seeking order and peace. For we are Sith! To our True Empire! To me!"

    Kwea had to suppress a snort at the ending of Insipid's message. Then, she nodded to K9 and whispered, "Light 'em up."

    Tags: @Sinrebirth
  2. Dagobahsystem

    Dagobahsystem Force Ghost star 6

    Sep 25, 2015
    Combo with Sinrebirth

    IC: Saadi and a Nameless Mandalorian
    The Luxury Elite

    Just as Darth Saadi returned to the arena, he heard a terrible explosion, and as he looked up, was struck on the left side of his skull by a burning piece of shrapnel. Reeling from this unexpected blow, he immediately felt his throat closing and all went dark as he collapsed in the aisle...


    So Darth Saadi stood dumb founded, feeling alone as usual.

    How many kriffing times had he been Force choked for simply existing? What sort of training was this? Had his master not comprehended when Saadi had detailed his life of abuse on Coruscant? The beatings, torture, and betrayals?

    And after all that, he'd merely been led around as a meaningless pawn on one wild red herring of a chase after another, for no apparent reason whatsoever, except for the amusement of one Insipid.

    This was not how the Force worked!

    Ostracized and ignored, Saadi felt a tremor in the Force, knowing his next decision would have major consequences for himself; one could only hope they would be beneficial.

    His clenched right fist started to tremble as he thought about this unfair treatment.

    Of a sudden, the night vanished into nothingness and the deity was burned from memory as the answer dawned on Saadi. The time for a new order was nigh, one led by a wise and powerful Empress.


    Saadi gasped as he awoke from this nightmare. His head was pounding, but he was alive. She did this to him, didn't she?

    Where was Darth Insipid? Was he safe? The Clawdite scrambled to his feet and staggered up the aisle, reaching out with the Force, attempting to locate his master. Fire and debris, bodies even, were strewn about the seating area. Something had gone terribly awry and splintered the Sith into violent factions. Saadi sprinted through the LE searching for his master.

    To the others, it appeared that Saadi simply collapsed. He had seemed disoriented when the bomb went off, and then Ike rung his neck. Saadi folded in on himself, and Ike gestured, throwing what he assumed was a corpse, so complete was Saadi’s surrender.

    It rolled to the edge of the arena, and then Ike was left facing Soliloquy and Rook while Zalen poured a barrage at Mallace. This was not going especially well for Insipid’s former allies. Ike looked quite pleased that they’d won - as far as he could tell.

    However Saadi has in-fact landed after he’d been thrown, and rolled to the edge of the seating area arena. So overconfident was Ike that he did not detect the Sith awakening, though Saadi would come to with ringing in his ears, a twisted ankle and a variety of cuts and grazes through his clothes. He obviously took the opportunity to break free, abandoning the fight - he had to find his master.

    He had coordinates to the hangar, but that was not where he master presently was. However, before he had opportunity, two of the thugs beside Ike had seen him slink off and were pounding down the aisles after him.

    Two brutes with guns in each hand, they caught up with him in the corridor, firing a staccato of shots designed to be difficult to block entirely, and deflect back at them. In the Force, Saadi would be aware that a third threat, with an aura considerably more dangerous than the two pursuing him; a Mandalorian, complete with beskar armour and a beskad.


    The ringing in Saadi's ears created a cacophony of cymbal crashes that temporarily caused him to ignore the stinging in his ankle. No sooner had this newfound injury permeated his awareness than he heard a muffled pounding over the white noise in his brain as he hit the deck and barrel rolled out of line of the blaster bolts aimed at his person.

    Drawing his KYD-21 blaster, the furious changeling fired rapid shots at Ike's two henchmen. Not kill shots, mind you. Not initially. Rather, Saadi systematically fired at their legs. Hitting a knee here, a thigh there, shattering a calf muscle here, and working his way up to their groin area from his crouched, combat position.
    Seeing the bastards fall, writhing in pain, Saadi let them lie there to bleed to death.

    He currently had a much bigger problem on his ever narrowing horizon.

    What the kriff was going on here and where was Darth Insipid?

    As his mind raced, Saadi sensed through the Force the approach of a mysterious Mandalorian, armed to the teeth with the finest, nearly indestructible beskar armour his culture had created.

    Turning to face this new threat, the changeling saw that he or she wielded a beautiful beskad.

    Knowing a saber dart and other weapons in his arsenal would be ineffective with such an enemy, Saadi calmly blasted Ike's two henchmen once in the head each and turning, drew his lightsaber and stared down the Mandalorian silently, his eyes glowing golden with the anger and rage bequeathed only to one strong in the Dark Side of the Force.

    The Mandalorian inclines his wrist to start and a flamethrower popped up from the bulky gauntlet, and the moment the flame met Saadi’s location, he gunned his jet pack and burst forward, shifting to a two handed swing at Saadi - neck height.

    There was no need for words.

    The battle was on.

    Fire! Saadi hated fire! It reminded him of being trapped in a horrific maze from hell; he recalled bitterly, as he was forced to dive out of the path of the flames.

    Rolling into a crouched position, Saadi winced as his sore ankle bent awkwardly, the heat singeing his cloak. Yet he managed to parry the powerful attack from his foe. Saadi's blade hissed as it met the beskad. The two were momentarily locked in combat when Saadi Force pushed the Mandalorian back, and to the left, leaving him off balance.

    Leaping forward with all of his strength, the assassin swung violently at his opponent's head.

    The blow smashed down with force - but the armour held against the blade. The warrior went down and rolled backwards, coming back up with the missile atop the rocket launcher pointed at Saadi - at almost point blank range. If he had chased the Mandalorian as he retreated into a roll - he was in trouble.

    Watching his opponent roll away, stunned but still alive, Saadi groaned as he saw the armed rocket launcher appear. Instantly, the Clawdite realized he had to try something he had rarely used before. In desperation, he deactivated his lightsaber and used Force Shock to hopefully subdue the fierce Mandalorian.

    Reactivating his blade, Saadi moved in quickly to smite his opponent, once again slicing his lightsaber furiously, using a two handed grip, at the same head location as before.

    The shock threw off the Mandalorian and then Saadi was all over him; the man could not prevent himself from flailing as the force of the blows first concussed him, and then caved apart the beskar. The helmet split and so did his head.

    Saadi breathed deeply, keeping his blade alight, as he glared down at the fallen warrior. The sweat began to stream down the back of his neck and chest, dampening his tunic. Finally clipping his now quiet blade to his belt, the assassin greedily picked up the Mandalorian's discarded beskad and sheathed it carefully, before resuming his quest to locate the God-Emperor.

    It was of the utmost importance to the apprentice that his master knew of his continued loyalty.

    However, Saadi sensed something terrible had happened. Something confirmed by the reports he was now hearing over the LE's comm system.

    Tags: @Sinrebirth @Mitth_Fisto @Mostlymad
    Last edited: Mar 14, 2018
  3. dragonsith13

    dragonsith13 Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Apr 3, 2005
    The Luxury Elite - A cozy bar

    It did not take much to see it all coming, if one had kept their eyes open and mind focused on what truly could be the only outcome of building events. One did not put such beings into a cage and expect them to not tear themselves and the cage apart. The destruction of their final Star Destroyer had been felt as the Luxury Elite shuddered from the shockwave. Then came the announcements by the noble leaders amongst the Sith. The alarms, explosions, sounds of blaster fire and screams of patrons and personnel alike. Vexx was in trouble along with many within the order both from the lowest dregs to the highest peaks, attention was needed to such perhaps. Then again were any of them worth saving or fighting for?

    The alarms were steady now, a flashing beacon at the entrance to the now half lit club, swirled strobed every few seconds, flashing red light across the room, occasionally the sounds of security personnel scrambling by from time to time outside the entrance was heard. The bar and club were nearly empty, as most of the patrons to the luxurious establishment had already fled and exited in a frenzy. Even the staff was severely rattled as most of them had or were fleeing. To where? Wasn’t one chaotic place as good as the next? He would not let it ruin the last moments of peace and such a fine drink. Draconis sat at the bar alone, quietly, and calmly the last few sips of a half full glass of dark amber liquid. Finishing off one such sip he placed the glass down on the bar, holding onto it loosely. While staring blankly forward across the bar, staring at the reflection in the mirror. The visage he had adopted, Kael staring back at him.

    ‘You’ve gone soft.’ Kael spoke.

    ‘Have I?’ Draconis spoke back as he raised the glass to his lips.

    ‘You created me, I should know.’ Kael retorted back to the question. He always answered in questions!

    ‘I’ve created many like you.’ Draconis spoke after lowering the glass from his lips.

    ‘Have you?’ Kael grew a bit disquieted by the statement. ‘Then what am, something to be discarded?’ Kael was quite incensed with the notion of being used.

    ‘You do not discard something useful.’ Draconis took a final sip emptying the glass. Lowering it to the bar, releasing it from his fingers. His mouth pulling slightly to the side from the harshness of the alcohol. The balance of savoring it while, accepting its hard bite as it went down.

    ‘You cannot keep me caged for long.’ Kael spoke with a vitriol seething hate, yearning to break free and take over.

    ‘I cannot?’ Draconis looked over at the bottle next to him. Another drink? No things were moving along finally. Pieces of the puzzle moving and coming to choosing sides.

    ‘No and when we all catch up with you…’ Kael spoke as if speaking on behave of many more.

    ‘You are not the first to say that.’ Draconis plainly spoke in his familiar low dire tone.

    ‘Really!’ Kael spat back, the visage in the mirror become more incensed at the round about conversation.

    ‘Yes.’ Draconis softly spat back with a slight sneer.

    ‘Worried about us getting out?!?!’ Kael’s voice was different from before not the smooth, glamorous sheen which matched his makeup and the visage created. Adopting multiple voices and tones fluctuating as he softly but angrily spoke back to Draconis.

    ‘It’s not you I am worried about getting out, after all I created you. I should know.Draconis finished, emphasizing the plural you, addressing something more than just the visage of Kael staring back at him in the mirror.

    Turning away from the bar and exiting the room out into the hallway, Draconis moved with purpose. The all black three-piece suit was still pressed neatly, a midnight black tie, tucked into a black vest, which was wrapped by a suit jacket of the same midnight black. No one had bothered to inquire about the sheath at his side all night, perhaps they thought it to be a decoration of sort, a single blade saber hilt lay hidden behind his back near his waistline. With all of this he still wore the face of Kael, a visage very few aside from Vexx and maybe those at the top of the order would recognize, as he pressed forward down the hallway nearing the arena where the fight was set to have taken place. The presence of his Apprentice Vexx, strongly felt as he drew nearer. Many of them were gathered, presences known, names not. Faces unseen, but intentions growing.

    @Darth_wanderguard, @anyone who wants some...
  4. Lady Belligerent

    Lady Belligerent • WNU Adoptions Coordinator• star 7 VIP - Game Host

    Jan 29, 2008
    IC: Empress Bellorum, Queen of the Twilight
    aboard her flagship, the Luxury Elite

    Bellorum stood on the bridge staring out the massive viewports as she listened to the message being broadcast across her ship. Her eyes narrowed as Insipid slandered her... for a moment she considered ignoring his pitiful attempt at placing blame. But, no it would not be tolerated.

    She glanced down the rows of engineers all silently staring at displays. She sensed their wavering and it angered her. This was her domain and damn it if she’d have this kind of insubordination.

    Two men at the communication station whispered and looked over in her direction.

    Her eyes narrowed as she shouted, “you dare to place faith in this desperate attempt by Insipid to blame me?” Her voice had projected across the bridge in a manner that caused some to tremble, others resisted the urge to try and see who her outburst was directed at.

    The two men were pulled to their feet as if they were a child’s puppet on strings. “You believe these lies? You believe me to be a fool that wouldn’t have just taken the dick ship for my own if I wanted it?” The communications officers began to rise and dangle high above the bridge. “I don’t destroy anything or anyone useful to me.” Her words had trailed off as she seemed to have already moved on to more important matters. She clinched her fist and the snap of spines reverberated in the silence. She released her hold and the bodies fell to the floor. The crew simply stepped over them and kept working.

    Bellorum turned to her trusted commanders who had been standing behind her. “Lord Hades,” her voice now calm and almost cordial, “escort the deposed God-Emperor, and his minions, off of my ship.” Her tone was clear, she was giving him approval to use any means necessary to accomplish the task.

    “Commander Leda,” Bellorum directed to the woman beside Hades, “I sense Haretisch needs assistance leaving,” she actually smiled as she spoke, “I’d like you to see that he’s removed from my ship, however he has several cronies that he brought along for the prize fight. See that they are all eliminated from my property.”

    “Speaking of my property,” she added, “do your best not to trash the ship.”

    She paused but had not dismissed them yet. “One more thing,” she told them both, “spare the lives of any Sith who decides to join my Empire. The rest are useless.”

    The Empress looked across to the communication station and noted there were replacement staff seated and going about the normal routine of that position.
    “Open a channel that includes the entire ship,” she instructed and waited until the officer nodded that it was done and waiting.

    “Former God-Emperor, you may spin your lies, but you won’t do it on my ship.” Her anger was building as she spoke, “I am willing to accept your surrender and that of your comrades, and your lives will be spared. Lay down your arms and make no attempt to fight or flee.”

    She was loving every moment of this, and she hoped Haretisch and Insipid understood just how she had them cornered. “Surrender to my guard, and be prepared to bend the knee. Pledge yourself to me as your Empress and Queen.”

    The officer took her cue and ended the transmission, and Bellorum went into the private office designated for her use adjacent to the bridge.

    Tag: everyone
  5. Darth Kronos

    Darth Kronos Jedi Grand Master star 5

    Jan 2, 2016
    IC: Darth Ravenous, Darth Kronos combo - Luxury Elite.

    This Wookiee, Ravenous, was... distracting. Kronos had never formally met him, but he had seen him wandering around the Temple a few times back in their old reality, and he was much different from... this. What used to be a larger than average Wookiee was replaced with a mutation very much unlike anything he had ever seen. Tendrils stood out from his furry skin, which was clearly the result of Sith sorcery. Whatever it was, Kronos wanted no part of it.

    The very sight of Ravenous caused a cold shudder to travel up his spine.

    The Sith spawn had finally arrived to his objective sent by the Emperor himself, The Luxury Elite. It reminded him of the underbelly of Coruscant of the old days. Ravenous reminisced as he studied his mission datapad of these times and he scoffed at a new message arriving. From... Darth Hades? He remembered at this moment he was bunked with Darth Kronos; An equal in his own right. He was strong in the force, Ravenous drank in the raw power that the human extruded and closed his eyes to focus. The message from Hades would not elude his thoughts though as he opened the database again, holding it at an angle to .

    "A gift? What could that possibly entail, and what can you give to someone with nothing."


    He felt a disturbance in the force and a rumble on his level of the ship. And then moments later, it happened...

    Take cover!!! Ravenous exclaimed. His voice a guttural howl as he spoke basic to Kronos. He spun low and pulled his bowcaster to his large hands using one of his tenticles as he took cover behind the corner of the hall to dodge the plasteel door blowing in on them. Through the dust and in the moment, he couldn't see how Darth Kronos reacted but a voice filled his mind and kept echoing...

    Kill him, Kill him now, Kill him, Kill him now...

    As patrons danced to the tune of the music without a care in the world, a familiar man's figure made itself seen: Insipid. A severely battered and wounded Insipid at that. The dancing patrons he had maneuvered through gave him uncomfortable glances as he squeezed himself through the crowd. The sounds of the music coming to a sudden, screeching halt as glass was broken around them filled the air, and, in motivations that made no sense, the "God-Emperor" flicked his fingers and turned a couple of patrons inside-out. The pristine, plasteel doors were blown apart, and the remaining patrons fled the scene - including the perverted barkeep from before. Kronos absently heard Ravenous shout to him (in Basic... somehow), but Kronos didn't have the time to react properly. Insipid was already beginning his speech.

    Or, rather, debriefing.

    Kill Haretisch.

    A task Insipid clearly failed to do.

    As Insipid consulted with the commander of some Peacekeeper, he mulled over that fact. It was clear that, despite rising within the ranks in a matter of months, he was still seen as nothing but a pawn to be used and abused as wished. Since Insipid couldn't accomplish the task of murdering Haretisch himself, he might as well send his minions to do the dirty work. That way, no one "important" would be dying.

    Kronos mentally scoffed. Insipid gave him a knowing smile as he mouthed the words "First Order." A jab at his epic failure of the Heskal mission? An... invitation? Even after what had happened?

    Lies, treachery, deceit, secrecy.

    The theme of the Sith.

    This was only made more evident by the betrayals of the Triumvirate.

    Kronos payed little attention to Ravenous. He had little doubt that the animal would comply with Insipid's orders. Kronos, however, had no plans to do so. He always hated the inner politics of the Sith, right from the very beginning. The outright lack of trust from anybody, the constant backstabbing in pathetic attempts for higher power, the knowledge that any personal connections one has will most definitely be used against them in order to elicit a reaction out of them; it was all atrocious.

    The building shook around him, and he immediately returned his thoughts to Esme. Where was she in all of this? Was she okay? Was she hurt? Was she...



    But... she was on her way to meet with Haretisch. If the Triumvirate decided to unleash their plots upon each other now, then there was no way there would be a meeting. In fact, Kronos doubted Haretisch was in the mood for any semblance of speaking, let alone to a woman he had successfully killed, only for her to be brought back from the dead.

    The trail of blood stains, no doubt belonging to Haretisch, were revealed as Insipid left with the fleeing crowd.

    Waiting for Ravenous, Kronos motioned toward the blood stains.

    Not for his assigned mission, but for Esme's sake.

    The Sith-Spawn peeked around the corner and saw Kronos unscathed from the force blast, he was motioning for Ravenous to take point. He emerged from the cover and spoke to Kronos; bowcaster in hand.

    "I'd say we go at the same time but I don't think we'd fit through the door. I'm not about to give my back to a primadonna such as you. You lead, besides, I wouldn't want to be the first thing your precious 'Esmerelda' sees when we catch up. Besides, I have this."

    He motioned with his bowcaster semi-aggressively to Kronos. He kept his cards close to his chest but Kronos wasn't a part of his 'plan'. He wanted Haretisch..

    "Lead brother.."

    Kronos scoffed at Ravenous's insult and ignored the weirdness of a Wookiee speaking Basic. He said nothing in return to him as he took point and followed the trail of blood. No corner was left unsearched as he desperately looked for his love. He felt her presence within the Force. He knew she was still alive. But the mad scramble for power from the Triumvirate, their insane Force abilities being used all at once in order to unleash their sinister plots upon each other and their allies, hid Esme's exact location from him.

    His fingers gently brushed his lightsaber hilt as he swiftly followed Haretisch's trail of blood, not caring if Ravenous was close behind.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth, @WookieeRage, @Darth_wanderguard
  6. Mitth_Fisto

    Mitth_Fisto Force Ghost star 6

    Sep 29, 2005
    IC: Soliloquy
    Amphitheatre, Where the big fight is more interactive than any dreamed.

    Take a simple teaching moment, file away the memory of whom had acted, who had shifted, and whom had merely ignored. All was useful. Although what was not, was when all of this began to turn and the machinations they had imagined were to come, came. Only instead of during the fight they arrived before it was ever supposed to begin. The Triumvirs were split by their own hands and the fire and debris had been spread over where they were about to be seated only for two to exit. Ike and a Nightsister Zalen flanked by cliche's of Rodians, a pair each. The dialogue from Ike was short and sweet but like the Sith it had often found itself embedded with throughout most millenniums and eons, these words were sweet with the promise of choice and self determination but were ultimately a lie. They were the words or those that did not believe them, merely offered them as a way to leave you open to attack meant to cleave you through the heart.

    No more was this evident then when Saadi, winner of the prize of a story or teaching of his choosing was choked, and lightening hurled at Malace. Malace. The internal debate was quick despite the impregnated moment of feeling long, for to defend their 'ally' was to offend one that a couple of their number saw as family. Still. All families fought in one manner or another and so as it noted the last of their number lost in looking at their tablet, at a time like this he was looking at a pad?!? It leapt up and away firing as it went and as it received some interesting messages as well.

    The Emperor AI was surprised and had conveyed the distrust of the situation. Something the holocrons many faceted minds agreed with. 'Yes. Relay choices and consent. We shall have to proceed aware we are within another's plans at this point.' The choices from the options were made and answered as at the same time the blasters popped out of the droids arms and opened fire. Their staccato of four shots appiece while moving through the air, tracking targets of the Nightsisters hip and dominate forearm before leading out to finish either thug, answering message such as this, and finishing opening needed terminals. . .well, that was what had compartmentalized abilities or a horde of minds to content with each came in hand.

    As it landed in a rocking stance the words came out clear and as those of a young woman. "Sister! She is our allied. Stay yourself and let us two pass, or perish." As Soliloquy handled this the AI was handling more communications and fopahs made by Insipid in the realm of technology. For a man that had lived as long as he had this glaring ignorance seemed nearly willful to Soliloquy, and coupled with the feeling of contempt towards aliens expressed on the shuttle ride to this new universe, filled the holocron with disdain. If not for Thrawn a few minds wondered if they would not of supported another in this sudden debacle. Such musings were hollow and moot, but still they were there, and they were acknowledged by the rest. Especially at the advent of their fortuitous usefulness electronically whilst also being submitted to a test physically. Planned or not there were too many layers with rivers of plans in motion at cross-currents.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth, @Mostlymad, @Dagobahsystem, @Darth Cocytus, @Darth Kronos
  7. E. L.Knight

    E. L.Knight Jedi Master star 3

    Dec 4, 2012
    Darth Hades
    The Luxury Elite

    Hades had waited for this moment for a very long time.

    "Your will is my command, my Empress."

    Hades left the bridge on a mission. As he did he stopped by a large banquet hall. Inside, it had been cleared and as he opened the doors, a sight that would inspire awe stood waiting for him.

    Beyond the doors stood his new Stormtrooper Legion.

    Finis, now Captain Finis, had been given cart blanche to recruit thkse he could from the stormtroopers given to the Sith.

    Their armor, now black and red to mirror Hades' own. They stood at attention, outfitted with new equipment that Hades had secured.

    His time on the Luxury Elite had not been idle and the fruits of his labors were evident now.

    Silently, the 666th Hells Legion, Hades Hellions, marched forward following Hades to confront the former Emperor.

    "Kill any loyal to Insipid then throw them out an air lock. We end this now."

    The sound of blaster bolts began ringing out as they marched forward.


    Hades sent his anger, his hatred, and his satisfaction through the force in that shout.

    "I had decided to kill you at Mortis, now, I will fulfill that promise. And the last thing you will be remembered for, is being killed by a non human, and being the man who would play at being a god with a fledgling wanna be empire."

    His lightsabers leapt to life.

    "It is time for you to leave."
    TAG: @Lady Belligerent, @Sinrebirth, @WookieeRage @all.

    Last edited: Mar 18, 2018
  8. Darth_wanderguard

    Darth_wanderguard Game Host star 6 VIP - Game Host

    Apr 26, 2005
    IC: Darth Haretisch, Darth Ravenous, Darth Kronos, & HelThe Luxury Elite. Combo post with @WookieeRage, @Darth Kronos, and @Lady Belligerent.

    It hadn’t taken very long for Darth Haretisch to realize he was leaving a trail of blood in his wake as they made their way through the corridors. Nor to decide to use it to his advantage and double back more than once to throw any potential pursuers off of said trail. He was walking nearly on his own now, hobbling but getting on nonetheless with a hand resting on Hel’s shoulder for balance.

    “No responses,” he noted out loud as he looked at his comm. “They’re probably all dead.” He sighed sharply, something more like a huff, and shook his head.

    The pair turned the corner, following a previously beaten path but this time with the intention of taking it straight on to the hangar.

    Instead of being met with an open path, however, they found themselves face to face with Darth Kronos. Darth Ravenous was just behind.

    “Ravenous, no,” Hel shouted. “We need to get to the hangar,” she emphasized ‘we’ to sound as if she included them with her and Haretisch. “Come with us.”

    Haretisch took a step forward and tucked Hel behind his body as he did. Kronos’ fingers were brushing his lightsaber hilt. Behind him, Ravenous brandished a bowcaster. A fool might have concluded they’d both come for a fight - if not for the waves of anxiety pouring off of Kronos like a stench. A familiar stench - one Haretisch could smell on himself every moment he thought of Hel. Fear. No, Kronos wasn’t seeking a fight, he was instead fearing for someone’s safety. The girl. The one Haretisch had been almost a surrogate father to - before he ordered her sacrificed as one puzzle piece in his plan to summon Typhojem. She’d since taken up with Kronos and, if rumors were to be believed, thoroughly defanged the man.

    As Kronos was desperately searching for Esme, mostly unaware of his surroundings, the next image he saw was the face of Haretisch himself. Another woman, one he had not met yet, followed closely behind him. As soon as Haretisch saw the pair, he pushed the young woman - who was, from her looks, younger than Esme - behind him, seemingly to... protect her? That action raised multiple questions that would never get asked.

    “Kronos,” Haretisch began, hand creeping to his lightsaber just in case. “We’ve no quarrel now. Move out of the way. Go instead and find your Esmerelda.”

    Upon meeting the pair, Kronos almost immediately gripped his lightsaber and yanked it from his belt. It was at that action when Haretisch calmly, while still making the warning and threat clear, that the two had no quarrel. Kronos could feel the hidden condescension within his voice. Ravenous, quick to respond, made his agreement with Haretisch known.

    Ravenous butted in as he stepped sideways, now to the rear right flank of Kronos, "You two have no quarrel.. I, on the other hand Night Herald... Do."

    He unslinged his bowcaster and tossed it behind him before lowering his slimy right mitt to his saber. Tunnel vision began to sink in, Hel was barely there with them in his mind as his anger began to plume.

    Kronos loudly scoffed. "Like hell we don't."

    His grip tightened, and his knuckles became bare white. His hands and blade noticeably shook. Despite his battle-ready composure, despite his expression displaying bitter hatred and anger, Kronos's fear and confliction were still blatantly obvious. He wanted nothing more than to get his revenge on this absolute waste of oxygen and space for what he did to Esme. He knew Haretisch deserved to die. After everything he had done, how the hell was he still allowed to retain a high-ranking position?! The very thought of that only caused more anger to rush through him.

    This situation was almost humorous, in a way. Despite what Kronos mentally told himself, that he would not waste his time fighting Haretisch for revenge, once he was finally face-to-face with him, the anger and hatred... basically everything about him only rose.

    His breathing increased rapidly, and he was mere seconds away from igniting his blade and beginning the fight.

    But the fear...

    It came back.

    Esme was scheduled to meet him. And she was no where to be seen.

    In a fit of both anger and fear, he spat a question at Haretisch. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out who he was talking about. "Where is she?!"

    He desperately tried to sound authoritative.

    Hel struggled back as her father pushed her behind, “I fought bloody undead, so stop babying me.” Her words were a hissed whisper through her clinched teeth. She didn’t know if he even heard her, since his focus was Kronos and Ravenous, it didn’t matter because this was an issue they would settle another day. The hilt of her grandfather’s lightsaber was in her palm and she’d do the protecting if it became necessary.

    Haretisch reached out to halt the advance, and burst a light fixture immediately above the Sithspawn’s head. The blinding shower of sparks which resulted would last only a moment before giving way to darkness and leaving the Night Herald and his daughter as silhouettes against the backdrop of light further back in the path.

    An emerald blade erupted to life, bathing Hel’s face in green. A pale blue one followed courtesy of Haretisch, and the two stood shoulder to shoulder in Soresu posture. Any attack on one would invite a reprisal from both.

    “Ravenous,” Hel pleaded. “I fought with you at the mountain pass. Don’t do this.” She had no desire to come to blows with a comrade but would do what was necessary.

    “Let’s all calm down, friends,” Haretisch interjected. “As to Esmerelda’s whereabouts, you’ll be relieved to know I have no idear as I’ve kept no account of her since that unfortunate business on Hoth. I can only assume Insipid has made you both think I’m your enemy.” He coughed, and spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor. “I’m not. So step aside and we’ll kill each other another day when there’s a better reason.”

    Ravenous stood unphased at the spark shower as the flickers sizzles his skin. His eyes only narrowed more at Hel's pathetic plea to sway him away. At one time maybe he could've been swayed but not now, not anymore. Also bathed in shadow, the Sith-Spawn ignited his saber and followed suit with another from his left. His sillouette became a grotesque work of art from the Lorekeeper. His tenticles raised and pointed at both Hel and Haretisch. He took a large inhale through his nostrils.

    "Look at you, Pathetic...I can smell your fear within the blood you spew Night Herald. This hall will soon be painted in it... And you girl, step aside if you knew what was good for you. He will only get you killed.."

    He hoped Kronos would fight by his side but had no qualms about him running, Ravenous would stay and fight either way. It was what he was made to do. He just waited to see what Kronos would choose to do.

    Kronos accidentally ignited his blade once Haretisch broke a nearby light bulb with the Force. The deep crimson color illuminated him and a small circle around him, bathing him in a sinister aura that would have intimidated the regular citizens of the galaxy. Not Haretisch, however. That unsureness, which had become a staple of his personality as of late, showed prominently through the blazing red hue that surrounded his tall stature and angered expression.

    Haretisch spoke more, and Kronos's anger increased. How could one man be so arrogant?

    He ignored the conversation between Ravenous and the younger woman and focused on Haretisch. He scoffed. "You call manipulating someone through schooling, sacrificing them, just to satisfy your moronic needs to destroy the universe unfortunate business?!"

    It took all of his strength not to attempt to kill him right then and there.

    He made his way closer to the pair, turning his offensive stance into a defensive stance. It would become increasingly apparent that, despite is blatantly obvious hatred for Haretisch, Kronos had no plans to fight him at that moment. In the time of chaos, where betrayal surrounded him, where explosions shook the building, his anger was recessive to his fear - no matter its size.

    "But, like you said, we can resolve that later." Bitterness was in his voice.

    He turned off his lightsaber but didn't clip it to his belt. He took off in the opposite direction to continue his desperate search for Esme, sparing only a few glances back at the impending battle between Ravenous, Haretisch, and the unnamed young woman.

    Haretisch breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He hadn’t wanted to fight them both - not in his current state and not with knowing what Ravenous would do to Hel if he won.

    Wordlessly he looked over to her and nodded, knowing there was no way she would stand back and watch. He gripped his lightsaber in both hands the same as she held his father’s. She looked so much like her mother - except for the eyes. She had his eyes.

    It was time.

    TAG: @WookieeRage, @Lady Belligerent
    Last edited: Mar 21, 2018
  9. Darth Cocytus

    Darth Cocytus Jedi Knight star 3

    May 8, 2016
    A very late Combo between Cocytus and Sinrebirth that will be rearranged.

    Darth Cocytus & Darth Insipid IC

    As Cocytus cut his way to the Emperor’s location, he struck down all foes in his path. However, once surrounded by corpses, he came to a stop as the state of the force changed once more. Not only Bellorum was leading a coup against the Empire, but Darth Haretisch. So it was all clear now. Insipid’s announcement made it even more so. The triumvirate has failed and the Sith had broken into a three way Civil War. This was expected by Cocytus actually. Since when do the Sith share power among three anyway? The nature of the Sith can only lead to this. Darth Bane was right. The Sith can only be two.

    Suddenly, though, upon hearing Insipid’s voice , something else came to his mind. The Emperor was oddly enough hiding something with an illusion. It made the kaminoan curious. What could it be though? Questions to be answered when Cocytus gets to Insipid of course. There was still work to be done. Then he could learn the truth.

    Clutching his lightsaber, Darth Cocytus waited for the Sun Guards to come into sight. He then charged upon them and with a swing of his blades cut then down to pieces. Once they were dead, Cocytus extinguished his blades and walked slowly into the Emperor’s room. Seeing Insipid, the Sith priest made a small, thin and icy smirk.

    God-Emperor…Cocytus said with cold calmness mixed with distinct amusement, his glowing candlelit eyes staring through Insipid. He sensed deception, but he also wanted to test the Emperor before he made his decision. Thus the kaminoan kept his mind read as a complete wild card.

    It seems that the Sith Triumvirate has failed us. ...Both Haretisch and Bellorum have betrayed you. ...Such is the nature of the Sith… I suggest we wipe the slate clean and begin again… as Darth Bane intended... as just two. ...The way things should be. ...A master and an apprentice."

    Darth Insipid regarded the Kaminoan. The Sun Guards had been no threat to Cocytus, and Insipid noted their diced bodies; they had not lasted the length of his speech.

    Just two?’ The Dark Lord scratched his chin absently. He’d made that promise to Darth Ravenous a few weeks earlier, but similarly, he could have as many candidates as he wanted under the Rule of Two before he settled on an apprentice. Insipid returned the smile upon the aliens face.

    ‘I think it’s a wonderful idea. The Sith are being diluted; weakened by infighting and self-defeating - to the point that we are making pawns of ourselves. Haretisch of Thrawn; Bellorum of the Family...Insipid did not know that the Twilight Empress had killed off the crime Lords aboard the ship, so his point stood.

    Cocytus also had a good point... and Insipid was not placed to waste energy on the Sith Lord. He was wounded, and he could feel a trickle of blood running down his side where the cut had split. A wince escaped his expression, but Insipid sought to cover it. ‘What a waste.’

    So I accept you as a formal, albeit secret, candidate for the Rule of Two. I shall offer you my knowledge, and you shall seek to surpass me. If I consider you a poor choice...Darth Insipid’s eyes flared red. ‘The Rule of Two will prevail.’

    Darth Cocytus's smile grew a little, albeit colder and more sinister as he stepped forward. In the Kaminoan's eyes Insipid had seemed to pass his test. It was good that they saw things eye to eye. However, there certainly more to the God-Emperor than what appeared. Cocytus saw Insipid's winces of pain and his eyes narrowed. Obvious injury, of course, and it was obvious that the Emperor was trying to hide it.

    This opened an opportunity for Cocytus strike the Emperor down. Become master and emperor himself and start the Rule of Two himself. It was indeed tempting and any Sith worth their salt would at least toy with the idea. However, Cocytus saw it as hubris, which was the downfall of many a Sith. The kaminoan's training was incomplete and he needed a master to teach him. The knowledge of the ancients and the living were both necessary.

    Darth Cocytus stepped forward and bent to one knee before the Emperor. It was funny, the choice he was about to make. The Rule of Two requires the death of the master, including himself, which contradicts his desire for immortality. Then again, when it comes to the survival of the Sith, sacrifices must be taken.

    "I live to learn from you and to crave the power you hold, Master." He said in his soft cold voice, but with an almost ceremonious tone, "But you are hurt and injured and you have much to teach. Do you wish me to escort you to the medical room, my lord? There is no shame. Darth Zannah saught medical aid for Bane to get knowledge out of him."

    Insipid saw right through Cocytus. He had every intention of betraying him. Conversely, however, Insipid had no present intention of honouring this agreement. It was all circumstances. For now, he needed Cocytus, and for now, he needed Insipid.

    But at the same time... insipid knew that his sharpness was a matter of pride. He was not invincible; Cocytus’s offer could be genuine... the former God-Emperor allowed his features to soften. ‘I shall persevere, for our Sith Order.’

    Come, we must make our way to the arena. For now, we will require numbers to force Haretisch and Bellorum to see our side of matters. Until we have chance to divest ourselves of the rabble, we must improvise.’ The Dark Lord of the Sith deactivated his blade but kept it in his grip, placing his other hand on Cocytus shoulder. ‘Riiiise, my friend.’

    Insipid sensed more threats along the corridor towards the arena. ‘You have many more foes ahead.’ His hand still on Cocytus, he sensed half a dozen humanoids, armed, but brutish in the wake they left in the Force, between them and the arena. ‘If you would, my apprentice.’

    He turned away from Cocytus to face the oncoming foes, foot slightly askance as he shifted his weight to acknowledge the knee held together by his will alone - as blood pooled beneath it.

    Darth Cocytus nodded slowly as Insipid swept his concerns away. The God-Emperor, as arrogant as we was, was indeed strong, and it would take more than simple injuries to hold him back. Darth Bane needed attention because of the orbalisk armour was killing him from the inside. What Insipid had is a mere flesh wound compared to that. Still, Cocytus assumed that he would need attention still, once all was said and done.

    Darth Cocytus rose slowly at his new master's command. His cold glowing eyes narrowed with hatred as he sensed the incoming foes. Turning to Insipid, he stood beside him, clenching his twin lightsabers in his hands. The kaminoan took deep breaths, calling on the power of the dark side to bring him passion, strength, power and victory. Once all was done can the New Rule of Two truly begin.

    However, as Cocytus glanced at Insipid, he frowned thinly as he sensed doubt within him. He would have to put much effort into proving himself worthy to be the heir of the New Banite Sith Order. Both the Sith, and his life, perhaps, depended on it. In the meantime, Cocytus would prepare himself for any sign of treachery from his would-be Sith Master. For there was treachery indeed, such is the Nature of the Sith.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth, @Lady Belligerent, @Darth_wanderguard and everyone else.
    Last edited: Mar 23, 2018
  10. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Immortal Mod-King of the EUC, RPF and SWC star 8 Staff Member Manager

    Nov 15, 2004
    IC: Darth Insipid
    On the way to the arena, mostly

    They were making good pace; Cocytus was his vanguard, and Insipid was spreading around for the tendrils of connection between everyone here, as the Kaminoan cut down any ruffian that crossed his path, while Insipid reached into the Force. He was not out of danger - he could feel the focus that Hades was placing upon him.

    Some of the Sith he had accepted a connection with before; on Korriban, when they looked their efforts to push a Super Star Destroyer from orbit. Some of them he had no connection with whatsoever. Cocytus, Kronos, Ike, Ravenous, Zalen, Kralkus, Hesper, Draconis, Titus, Anark, Haretisch, Bellorum, Hel, Hades, Kwea, Serapis, Syren - each of them had wove their power with his and he had used it, and again he had grabbed at the strands between them to try and stall Typhojem, on Mortis, to which he had failed.

    The others - Mallace, Leda, Vexx, Cal, Rook - they had not been there, and Insipid would be unable to draw upon them, to connect with them, much as he could not with Soliloquy and Esmerelda.

    So he drew upon those connections, the ones with his certain loyalists - Kronos, Titus, Cocytus, Anark, Ravenous, the not-dead Kwea - and did not pull on them as he had once, choking them so much had his effort and need, but a soft cajole, to draw everyone into the meld, to feed power into his battered form. He knew some would never come to him - Bellorum, Haretisch, the impossibly alive Hel, Hades, Zalen, Kralkus, Ike - they would refuse to assist, so severed were those connections. Others - Draconis, Hesper, Syren, Serapis - he knew not how they would connect to him, with aid or with harm, so he left them be.

    Curiously, Insipid could detect Skelm. But there was no surprise they were connected; he had kept his soul within Skelm’s body. However, Insipid passed on - he did not wish to place any pressure on the politician at this crucial moment. The pivot point of their relationship was now, and Insipid had cast the die.

    As such, Kronos, Titus, Cocytus, Anark, and Ravenous would feel a slight tug in their strength, and Insipid would take that power and weave it into himself, strengthening his body as he and Cocytus caught up with his apprentice Saadi. They were now under the arena; Saadi had been occupied with his Mandalorian for longer than Cocytus and Insipid had made their way down the hallway.
    ‘Darth Saadi,’ Insipid intoned, indicating the Clawdite, and then the Kaminoan. ‘Darth Cocytus.’

    The Force boiled with danger, and soon they could hear the stomp of feet. Insipid scowled. Booted feet. Soldiers, a troop of them. The God-Emperor thrust his hand up - blowing a hole into the arena floor; a gesture of the Force swung him up into it; he landed lightly, the arena that the original Fight was intended to begin was behind him. With a mental check of his internal chronograph, he knew that the fight was supposed to begin about now.

    Above, before him, at the top of the rows of chairs, was the confrontation between Mallace, Soliloquy, Rook and Ike and Zalen. Mallace had lightning on his blade but Soliloquy had taken his shot at her. Insipid abandoned Cocytus and Saadi to the troop advancing towards them, and cast his senses up at the viewing box, which was smoking black. He could sense and hear lightsabers and violence; Skelm, Syren, others, the box looking damaged to the point it breaking from the arena wall.

    Insipid ignited his silver lightsaber, and drew himself into the arena. A gesture send a charge through the various cameras that had been set up in advance - Insipid would grandstand even if wounded, even with a knee which was broken and held together with the Force, even with a dozen cuts to his form, even with a broken cheekbone, and a glaring lightsaber wound to his brow. Drawing attention away from Cocytus and Saadi, who he trusted to defend the rear from the elite soldiers, he bellowed. ‘Darth Hades, I accept your challenge!’ It was a high bluff of the highest level; his wounds from his fight with Haretisch were drawing on him, his exhaustion was being held back by whatever Force strength his allies leant him. With an exertion, he drew his stomach wound closed, and roared. ‘Come, traitor! The War of Three is declared!’

    Ike looked down at his former lover. For a brief moment, the man decided that Insipid was beautiful, even in death. And then, with a snort of contempt, Ike turned away from Zalen’s dance with the others and strode out of the bridge. The war was modulating, and he had no desire to be around when the endgame played out here. Zalen would feel betrayed, likely even more annoyed at her Dark Lady for taking Ike into her bosom again, but perhaps Ike would be lucky and Zalen would die, and Ike wouldn’t need to compete with the witch.

    Ducking into the upper exit, he almost immediately sensed Esmerelda, lost in the chaos but resolute in her determination to not panic. And... something else, about her. Ike licked his lips. ‘Oh, this is too precious.’

    Ike reached out with the Force, intending to wring her neck as he made his big finale - Bellorum had promised him a Moment as a sweetener for his loyalty. He thrust his senses further down the corridor, and sensed Kronos running down the same way, and, further back, Haretisch, Hel, and Ravenous, a stink of violence to it all.

    Ike was closer to Esmerelda than Kronos.

    Oh this was going to be so, so fun. He projected his malice into the Force, letting Kronos know just where he was.

    I’m coming, deary.

    Flag Hangar

    The guns were manually overridden, and Kwea would feel the tug in the Force. A hard, solid tug - Insipid needed her strength, and her support. K-9 turned to regard her.

    ‘Ma’am, your heart rate is elevating. Do you require assistance?’

    The speeches had been made, the War of Three had begun. Many Sith had picked a side, and it was becoming a complete battle, with thousands of civilians rushing back to their rooms and the numerous cantinas, bars and casinos being sealed by burly guards up and down the ship, for the patrons safety, who were lavishing thanks on the men and women who Bellorum had offered terms to throughout the ship. She was about to be their saviour, and many, many of them had connections in the higher echelons of society, from the Hapan Consortium to Chiss Ascendancy to Velcar Commerce Zone.

    Kwea was briefly isolated from the war, but she was also holding the rear of the ship. A lone figure was suddenly evident on the scopes, cloaked, hidden from view. She turned her hand, and K-9 squeaked in surprise as the shuttle gun turrets turned, an exertion of the Force bending them so.

    A crimson lightsaber appeared in the hand of the woman, illuminating her features. High Lady Hesper had chosen a side.

    Whomever’s it was... it wasn’t Insipid’s.

    Emergency Auxiliary Maintenance Shaft 2B

    It was of course feasible that the bridge tower would be cut-off from power, or blocked by damage. In those circumstances the crew could take this maintenance shaft, ordinarily magnetically sealed to prevent access by enemies, and indeed so heavily secured that you could not use it, to escape the bridge.

    At this moment the enemies point was more relevant than the escape one. Two Sith; all that was ever required. The Zabrak Titus and the mauled man Anark. Anark had originally been tapped to kill Haretisch with Ravenous and Kronos, but for whatever reason - over indulgence of drink, of women, of narcotics - Anark had missed his appointment. While ordinarily Insipid would have berated his former apprentice within an inch of his life, it had, serendipitously, left Anark free to hook up with Titus - who had been in the midst of arranging to leave the Elite for parts unknown - and attack the bridge in a last minute set of orders following Insipid’s discovery that he was not starting a coup but a war, a war that Bellorum had been preparing for the moment they arrived in this time, so enthralled by her brief moment as Empress of the Sith on Mortis, no doubt.

    As they reached the top of the ladder, Titus gestured, a Force shock deactivating the magnetic protections around the hatch - a massive warning to Bellorum and her bridge crew but something that was unable to be helped - and he shoved the hatch open, appearing in the ready room to the bridge, and in an instant Titus activated his blade and gestures to breach the doors, allowing Anark to charge headfirst into the bridge.

    They’d discussed this - Anark would lead the assault, going straight for Bellorum, and Titus would tidy up the bridge crew, and, hopefully, before Bellorum overwhelmed Anark, return to their fight. They had lucked out when Hades left the bridge to hunt down Insipid, and again when Ike had been sidetracked by Esmerelda, but any other Sith on the bridge standing with Bellorum would be an issue.

    TAG: Everyone, but especially Zalen, @Darth Cocytus, @Dagobahsystem, @Darth Kronos, @HanSolo29, @Snokers, @Halle Dray, @Mostlymad, @E.L.Knight, @Mitth-Fisto

    OOC: Cocytus and Dags; combo with me, please.

    OOC 2: Zalen is to reply first to you, Kronos, Mostlymad, Mitth.

    OOC 3: C-C-C-Combo, Hades!

    Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
  11. Snokers

    Snokers Jedi Master star 4

    Jul 8, 2015
    IC: Darth Anark

    Emergency Auxiliary Maintenance Shaft 2B...

    The after effects of the spice - that stupendous spice - still tingled in some recess in the back of his skull. He could feel it. A physical sensation, like a soft massage on the surface of the brain itself that emitted sharp bolts of euphoric lightning through his entire body.

    The narcotic that had sent him flying down the deepest and darkest of rabbit holes had been offered to him by an ageing Weequay who'd explained that it was the ultimate of highs, unmatched by anything within a hundred parsecs of the Luxury Elite.

    Anark had spent what seemed like a six months or more in a place free from the constant nagging and jibing of the usual voices inside his head, experiencing intense visions, visions of the past, and of the future?

    Former God-Emperor, you may spin your lies, but you won’t do it on my ship.”

    Anark made a queer face as he reached the top of the ladder. He looked over to Titus.

    "Bellorum fancies herself our new Empress?" He thought of Insipid. The God. Anark liked the Emperor. Sometimes he'd just watch Insipid's facial expressions, his body language, the way he spoke in such a nonchalant and yet exact manner weather he was assigning some low-grade assignment, toasting to a tremendous victory, or planning out loud what to do about the Sith Empire eating itself from the inside out. He'd never trusted Bellorum pretty much from the moment he clapped eyes on her.

    Anark regarded Titus. "I always knew she was a bit..." he gave a short whistle and swirled a pointer finger round his ear, "nuts."

    As his Sith comrade gestured with the Force and breached the bridge doors, Anark ignited his lightsaber for the first time in a while and prepared for a mighty assault.

    TAG: Titus? a combo? anyone?

  12. HanSolo29

    HanSolo29 Manager Emeritus + Official Star Wars Artist star 7 VIP - Former Mod/RSA

    Apr 13, 2001
    The following is a combo post with QueenSabe7 and Kaleesh-Cyborg:

    IC: Darth Syren, Grievance Vexx, and Aryan Graul
    Private Suite, the Luxury Elite

    Syren was fully turned to face Aryan Graul, any ire she had been feeling draining away at his taunt of one of their many arguments – this one in particular having resulted in a rather lively food fight that had driven their captors absolutely mad, much to their pleasure.

    With a smirk she sighed and held her eyes upon his, briefly lost in the amusing memory. The fact was, her annoyance with the politician had been exhausting to keep up with the past couple months. It wasn’t even genuine. Most of the harshness that was directed at him was akin to emotional shielding, her instincts trying to keep her… fondness for the frustratingly captivating man at bay. It was useless, of course. Things had been set in motion that she couldn’t even hope to stop.

    Leaning in closer she opened her mouth to snap off a sarcastic retort, as was routine between the pair, but her breath caught in her throat and she was choked into an abrupt silence. A sharp trickle of alarm ran up her spine in the only warning she would receive a second before the explosion hit, only having the time to attempt to relay the danger to her fellow Sith via the distress and fear upon her face.

    It wouldn’t be enough.

    Grievance Vexx had barely perceived a tremble in the Force before the blast engulfs the room. He vaguely thought he had seen something strike his opponent, but there is no time to fully process his thoughts. In almost the same instant, all three-hundred-fifty pounds of him is hurtled against the ceiling, the impact far greater than when Alva had battered him with the Force. His internal organs scream with intense pain as though they are clutched in an unrelenting fist before the pressure of the blast dissipates. Barely conscious, he can feel himself peeling away from the ceiling to plummet back to the floor where he lands with a thunderous crash.

    That instant, the assassin was immediately overwhelmed with an ear-piercing roar and a violent concussive energy that she was fleetingly certain would tear her apart. Aryan was ripped from view and Syren went from standing upright to being slammed forcibly down upon her stomach, a large and heavy object careening into her back and crushing her to the floor. Upon impact she cracked her chin and the air was sucked from her lungs, blood pooling into her mouth as her teeth clamped down on her tongue. Instinctively she tucked her head under her arms and utilized the Force as a barrier against the shockwaves, whatever was pinning her down taking a more direct hit as the blast rushed by overhead. An intense, simmering heat surrounded every inch of her that was exposed, singeing hair, clothing and skin before dying away nearly as quickly as it had set on.

    Dazed and confused by this unforeseen disaster, he struggles to cling to consciousness. A singular driving thought demands he keep his wits about him: he cannot die in captivity. The stark white warrior reaches out with his clawed hands to drag himself away from this place that now resonates with death, but he is too disoriented to even begin to figure out where the exit is. Violent coughing wracks his body as air finally finds its way back into his bruised lungs. He turns to look around the disheveled room, seeking a way out. His eyes fall on the body of Darth Alva and his vision is too disrupted by the impact of his head against the ceiling to be able to tell if the assassin is dead. There is a lot of blurry redness around him where he lies though…

    For a moment Syren simply laid still, the complete absence of any sound so abnormal it was the only thing in those first moments that kept her from slipping away into unconsciousness. That and the metallic odor of fresh gore that began to sting her sense of smell and the chilling presence of death that began to crawl through the Force. Starting to mentally check herself over and pinpoint any injury or wounds, she suddenly felt ill, bile rising in her throat as she struggled to regulate her breathing. Rage surged through her senses, coating her pain in a temporary numbness while she tried to piece together how she not been aware that something this extreme had been about to happen? Why had she and Aryan -


    The mere thought of her companion irrationally took over any other concern Syren might have had, including for herself. She slowly raised her head and peered through the heavy smoke for any sign of the politician, her ears now ringing as a dull thumping noise reached her – coughing? Her eyes quickly found the hulking form of the cyborg nearby… very much alive. She didn’t know Vexx well at all, but seeing the creature still managing to breathe set off a small spark of confidence that there would be other survivors.

    Vexx shakes his head, trying to focus. Big mistake. A wave of dizziness pushes him back to the floor like a heavy hand he is powerless to resist. It would be so easy to give up and die here; end this confusing existence among creatures who plot shamelessly against one another to their own detriment. Sith have no loyalty anyway, right?

    Somehow this thought leads him to think about his master. Where is Draconis in all this chaos? Not so long ago, he might have hoped the man was blasted to kingdom come, but something unforeseen had happened to him in that cargo hold. He feels a sense of loyalty to the dark lord who had taken great pains to break his resistance against the Force. He sincerely hopes his master has not become a casualty of this disaster.

    His ears are ringing badly, but not from his unique sensitivity to the Force. They are ringing from the blast. The disorienting sound only he can hear spurs a pained groan as he clutches his throbbing head. Through the tinnitus screaming in his head, he can hear someone speaking over the intercom, decidedly female, though that could be the ringing in his head putting a higher pitch on the voice. He does not recognize it, but he understands what is being said. Someone has it in for Haretisch.

    "I might have known," he grumbles, trying once again to locate an exit. He needs to regroup with his master. His loyalty is ultimately to Draconis at this point; the only one with which he feels any remote sense of camaraderie. Whatever the dark one decides to do, live or die, he will follow suit unless ordered to do otherwise.

    Leaving Vexx to do whatever it was he did when in survival mode, Syren spit blood from her mouth and groaned uncomfortably as she set about pulling herself free. Her skin raw and tender in the places her clothing had been burnt away, she hissed through her teeth as she turned onto her back, shimmying her legs free from beneath the lifeless, ravaged corpse of Ryn. She spared him a glance as she realized he had been what shielded her from the worst of the explosion. If her anxiety didn’t already have her in its panicky grip, she might have found that fact humorous but instead, she turned away with worry plainly etched upon her features.

    Steadying her thoughts, her gaze continued to sweep over what remained of The Family’s formerly luxurious suite as she pushed out with her feelings, searching for one particularly familiar presence among the wreckage.

    It was the putrid, yet familiar, stench of burning flesh and ozone that ultimately roused Aryan from his unconscious state. The distinct odor burned his nose and quickly permeated his sinuses, causing his eyes to tear up and his stomach to turn sour as it instantly conjured up memories of the not-so-distant past:

    A barren landscape littered with the fiery wreckage from the dogfight unfolding several miles above the planet’s surface; his own cockpit, twisted and mangled from the crash, burning with a relentless fire; his right leg pinned beneath the control console, all feeling to the extremity now lost; that same distinct smell overwhelming his senses as the darkness closed in around his peripheral vision…

    Aryan gasped and sat upright in a panic, the rush of adrenaline allowing him to momentarily ignore his throbbing head. What had happened? Where was he? The silence that engulfed him was even more unnerving; the only sound was the pounding of his own pulse thumping mercilessly in his ears.

    At least it means I’m still alive, he thought wryly as he reached up with a shaky hand to probe at his forehead. It came away wet, his fingertips stained crimson with his own blood. He frowned and unleashed a weary sigh. In addition to the obvious head injury, he also took note of the various burns and abrasions that dotted the back of his hand and arm where his jacket had failed to protect him and was now singed through and blackened. It looked like he had been through hell…


    And then it all came rushing back – Zeb and his goons; the contest between Alva and Vexx; the bomb and the resulting explosion…

    For the first time, Aryan became aware of the smoky haze that filled the room in the aftermath, the dense cloud making it difficult to survey the true extent of the damage. But he realized that he didn’t need to see it; he could feel it...he could feel death all around him. It was one of the more unsettling aspects about the Force. He wished he could simply…switch it off, but in an odd sort of way, it made him whole. It gave him a sense of pride – he had survived where others had perished…

    But just as quickly as that thought materialized, it vanished. Instead, his breath caught in his throat and his stomach clenched with unmitigated fear – what if Syren was among the casualties? He couldn’t see her, couldn’t feel her within the Force…

    Was he being irrational?

    Shaking his head, he parted his lips to call her name, but his voice was only a harsh whisper.

    His voice wouldn’t reach her over the increasingly panicked cries of fleeing patrons out and below; instead she felt him, his sudden awareness upon her mind clearing way her mental fog as if she had been doused with frigid water.

    Syren’s head snapped in the direction the Force pulled her attentions, the dip of the floor and dizzying turn of the ruined walls not slowing her from pushing unsteadily to her feet. She staggered the short distance to where the politician sat, navigating the debris upon the floor without caution. Nearly collapsing once she arrived at his side, the redhead fell to her knees and looked him over quickly. He was beaten and torn, much as she suspected she would appear to him, but he was whole.


    Aryan never saw her approach. She simply appeared through the smoke and knelt protectively at his side, almost as if the gods had sent her to tend to his needs. For a moment, he thought he had lost consciousness again and was dreaming, but he soon became aware of the Force and the way it resonated with her presence. It cut through the discord that was clouding his mind to provide a sense of clarity. Syren was really here...and she was alive.

    The relief that coursed through his body at this revelation instantly numbed his pain. He felt rejuvenated, and with a weak smile, he lifted his chin to meet her gaze. She was a little worse for wear, but still the same Syren.

    Thank the gods…

    She reflexively lifted a hand towards Aryan’s forehead as if to examine the wound there, but she hesitated barely an inch from his skin. Lowering her hand, fingertips gently brushing along his jawline before dropping down to her lap, she let go of the breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding.

    “Are you alright?” Syren asked softly, unable to hide the concern from her voice.

    As her fingers brushed lightly against the flesh of his cheek, he involuntarily shuddered, but soon relaxed at the sound of her voice. It was surprisingly soothing amidst the chaos. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a brief respite as he leaned back against her.

    “I survived,” Aryan said flatly, his voice still weak, but maintaining its usual sense of candor. “That’s good enough for now. I figure that has to count for something.”

    He was content to simply leave it at that, but his own insecurities eventually got the best of him. He couldn’t help but think about Insipid’s warning, Haretisch’s insistence on meeting the all seemed too convenient. A wan smile appeared on his lips and he shook his head, seemingly delirious. “They got us good, didn’t they?” he muttered under his breath with a scoff. “I bet this was all part of the plan…”

    Despite his ramblings, he still had no clue what the hell was going on. He just wanted a way to rationalize it. Blaming the other Sith seemed like a good place to start…

    The focus of her immediate concerns having been addressed, Syren offered a small nod of understanding before tearing her eyes away from Aryan and slowly pushing back to her feet. Grimacing as she clutched a tender spot on her back, she assessed their situation in greater detail, the surrounding death and destruction lighting her senses with grim anticipation.

    All part of the plan… she mused, chewing over her companion’s words. She had to agree he was on the right track, someone having orchestrated this obviously premeditated hit. Her bloodied lips curled into a sneer as she registered that if the explosion had gone exactly to plan, she would be dead too, body torn to shreds to litter the very floor she stood upon.

    It had been too damn close.

    Like a match struck and ignited, her blood began to boil; aches, pains, wounds and outrage coalescing to bring forth a surge of violent energy. Syren’s hands clenched into fists as her grey eyes found the lifeless body of Zeb Targon a few paces away. Without thinking she stepped in his direction, brandishing a single saber hilt as she moved. The crimson blade ignited in a brilliant flash and with a rage-filled shout the assassin brought it overhead on an arc, slamming it down upon his partially crushed skull to bisect what was left down to the shoulders.

    “Bastard,” she spat while towering over the corpse, dragging the lightsaber free of his ravaged flesh to peel his face away as if she were removing a macabre mask. Syren watched, mildly satisfied as it slid to the floor, a small flashing light beside the body drawing her attention and dousing her anger momentarily. Reaching her free hand out, she called a pair of comms to her grasp; one was heavily damaged and basically no longer functioning, the other seemed to be unscathed, the notification light signaling unread messages. She recognized it as Aryan’s, the former having been hers. Neither one had been seen in nearly two months, having been confiscated by Zeb the moment the pair had been put ‘under his guard’.

    Aryan, now seemingly more alert, watched Syren’s grisly demonstration with a mixture of fascination and restless curiosity. While he had no love for Targon and felt immense relief and satisfaction over the man’s death, he remained apprehensive over the savage brutality he had just witnessed. The action had rubbed him the wrong way. Perhaps not for its callousness, even if it did give him pause by calling his own principles into question, but for serving as a cruel reminder that he was not dealing with an ordinary woman. She was Sith. One misstep, and perhaps he would be the one on the receiving end of her lightsaber. It was a sobering thought.

    He continued to meditate on that possibility, his hand reaching up to idly rub at the wound on his forehead, when she leaned over the corpse to retrieve something of interest. At first, Aryan thought she was only continuing her desecration of the dead until he saw the two objects she cradled in the palm of her hand.

    Their comlinks.

    Narrowing his eyes, Aryan lowered his hand back to his side and shifted his position to get a better look. “Never thought I’d see those again,” he muttered dully under his breath.

    She spun on her heels and returned to the politician’s side, extinguishing her blade and discarding her useless device before kneeling down beside him once more. She knew she wouldn’t be able to access his comm herself... however, she did assume there would be news within that both of them should hear. So she simply held it out for him to take and waited expectantly.

    "Go on then, let's hear it.”

    Aryan cocked a brow and canted his head to regard her carefully. Her brashness had inadvertently struck another chord inside of him – what made her believe that he would willingly share his private messages with her? Sure, she was probably correct in her assumption that any correspondence sent from the top would pertain to both of them, but there were other matters to consider as well...

    One corner of his mouth curled up marginally as he reached up to take the comm unit from her grip. “I can’t make any guarantees that you’ll like what you hear,” he replied cryptically. “That’s the price for digging into a man’s privacy.” His lips pulled up the rest of the way to form a wicked smile.

    Without waiting to see her response, he began punching commands into the small keypad. The device issued a small chirp before the screen illuminated and green text immediately scrolled across his line of vision. His frown was palpable as the decryption program worked its magic to reveal the contents of an urgent message from Darth Insipid. The body of the communique referred to a confrontation on board the ship before providing a series of instructions, including coordinates to rendezvous in one of the service hangars. Was this the ‘calling’ the Emperor had mentioned a few weeks back when they had covertly met outside of the casinos?

    Or, was it another trap? Again, this bomb was no coincidence…

    Pressing his lips together into a thin line, Aryan gave Syren a sideways glance, but remained silent. He would share that message with her only if he felt it became pertinent to their survival. For now, it was ancillary. With a swipe of his finger, he hid it from view and moved on to the next item in the queue. This one was a voice message from Haretisch.

    Without preamble, the Night Herald’s voice crackled over the portable device, his words occasionally garbled by short bursts of static, but still fairly articulate as he made his plea – the Triumvirate was no more; both Bellorum and Insipid had betrayed him, and he was now running for his life. This message was intended as a call to action to his remaining allies. As if to confirm that fact, a string of coordinates soon followed with the location of a shuttle to aide in their escape. Aryan noted that even with the subtle distortions coming through the small speakers, Haretisch sounded desperate and fatigued. Was that the result of fear?

    When the message ended, the Chancellor lowered the comm to his lap and exhaled softly. He made no effort to hide the satisfied grin that slowly crept over his features. So, a coup had occurred. That explained a great deal, including the clandestine attack on their suite. He had suspected that a power play would happen eventually. It was inevitable. He had even warned the late Zeb Targon of the power vacuum that would develop as a result of such a move. The in-fighting that was about to take place within the Sith’s crumbling hierarchy would soon open the door for even greater opportunities…vast opportunities. Aryan could hardly contain his excitement.

    Rising shakily to his feet, he pocketed the comm and stepped towards Syren, his blue-gray eyes shining with feverish intent. “We’re free…” he said softly.

    TAG: @QueenSabe7; @Darth_wanderguard
    Last edited: Mar 29, 2018
  13. Lady Belligerent

    Lady Belligerent • WNU Adoptions Coordinator• star 7 VIP - Game Host

    Jan 29, 2008
    Luxury Elite
    "Sister! She is our allied. Stay yourself and let us two pass, or perish."

    Zalen’s eyes narrowed. “‘Our’ allied?” the Nightsister would have been amused if they hadn’t been fired on. With her lightsaber instantly springing to life, deflecting the bolts had been child’s play, and she’d effortlessly ricocheted them off the walls. Zalen cringed at the burn marks left behind, “Bellorum’s going to be angry that you’re damaging her property.”

    She stood prepared to fight, but something didn’t feel right. Zalen was in the wrong place, and the urge to run was strong.

    “I am allied to no one,” she she blurted and dashed away with enhanced speed. Her cloak and shimmering blade were blurred for mere seconds until she was gone.

    She’d closed her eyes and allowed the Force to guide her as she fled down corridors and around corners. When she slowed to walking pace, she opened her eyes and looked around. Zalen extinguished her blade and replaced it at her side as she continued walking. Was this part of a vision? Or, was it part of a bigger plan?

    Her footsteps halter suddenly as she heard voices ahead. Creeping forward along the wall she listened and recognized Haretisch. He had sounded more than a little beat up, and then she heard Hel and Ravenous’ voices. Zalen pondered stepping in, but decided to just let them kill each other and deal with anyone that survives...

    Tag: @Sinrebirth @Mitth_Fisto @Darth_wanderguard
  14. DarthIshyZ

    DarthIshyZ Chosen One star 6

    Jan 8, 2005
    IC: Serapis and Astara (Combo with WookieRage)
    Luxury Elite
    OOC: Consider the post above "Legends." It'll be gone soon as I understand it. This is a replacement.

    Serapis was relaxing, finally after the events of the ballroom. There had been a bit of an incident while he had been tending bar there. His schemes to gather intel for Lady Bellorum had been working without flaw. He even gathered a few credits and some minor gemstones from a bit of Force Suggestion. Of course, he had reported a generous amount to Lady Bellorum, but most of what he had gathered had been put into a personal safe for later use.

    Towards the end, though, he had sensed a being charging toward the ballroom with ill intent. Intending to use this distraction to the best possible use, he gathered everything he needed, steeled himself through the Force and took the shot, well, a glancing blow, on his shoulder. Spinning, he knocked a few bottles off to give a good show. He gathered there was a bit more to the disturbance with some spiders. He intended to ask Astara about it since she had been involved.

    The disturbance allowed him time and ability to get away with even more credits and jewels than he'd intended. Serapis intended to be quite wealthy when all this was done. His body may not be exactly graceful, but if he had enough credits, he could buy his own army.

    Finally he was able to relax. This Sith life was wearing on him. He'd want to leave it when he could. Take the positive. Leave the negative. Be his OWN master. Now he was put with this girl... impressive as she was... that was so bent on conquest.

    Astra suited up waiting for one of the many Sith in this order she was thrust into. She loaded her slug pistols and finished the shine on her marksman rifle; a modified DL model she picked up in a specialty kiosk before kriff hit the ventilator. She felt a presence at her door and rushed to the door to see Darth Serapis through the peephole. She holstered her drawn pistol and greeted the Ithorian.

    "Greetings, Lord Serapis. I come to understand we have received orders."

    Serapis looked at this human. "Well, we have tickets." as he showed her the passes to the fight. "Don't know how much of that is 'orders.' I don't mind you bringing that weapon. I have a feeling we'll need it. But you need to cover it. Do you have a coat or something?"

    Ravenous had done well training this one. He intended to ask her about him. Curiosity, as well as intelligence gathering.

    She felt the power of this Ithorian, one of many Higher-ups Ravenous had indulged her about.

    Jwob: Ithorian, Sith High Lord, Lord Serapis...

    "Greetings Lord Serapis."

    She said quietly before slipping on a leather trench coat to cover her armaments. She adorned no Lightsaber as she wasn't an official member of the Sith, only an investment. She worked wonders in extraction and protection. Here she would protect this elegant hammerhead. She heard nothing from her Master but she felt him here, in this pleasure ship.

    As he ushered Astara into the hall toward the venue, he scanned her through the Force. He could sense that she could be a useful tool. Yet he also sensed... clouded... Could she have taken some illicit drug. If so, his opinion of her just came down a notch or two.

    "Astara, tell me about your master. I've never had the pleasure of meeting him in person." As he waited for her response, he searched more for any indication of drugs.

    She was untrained in the ways of the force but she knew when somebody was probing her,

    "There's no need for the subtleties, Mi'Lord. My Master has kept me on a tight leash for the latter part of my life. I've taken spice since I've been here."

    She felt somewhat remorse, she had a true opportunity to prove herself. She followed up astutely.

    "I won't let it affect my performance, I've only just come down from the effects. Yes, my Master... Darth Ravenous has issued my contract for this ship. He said I would be needed. I've learned to just obey and here I am... I haven't heard from him in months."

    She gripped her pistols under her long coat.

    He stopped in his tracks. "Just come down...," she'd said. He looked at her hard. He put a dark Force suggestion behind what he said next. "You'd better hope so. Whatever's coming, I want you all here. I don't want a spider taking my..." He paused, not quite sure how to state his thoughts without being too crude.

    Astra replied, prodding Serapis this round,

    "Who was your Master, it seems you have a wide knowledge of the force, you ever use that saber tucked in your sleeve?"

    She held back her excitement pointing out Serapis' hidden blade.

    "Forgive me, I prefer a more straightforward approach, I mean no disrespect Mi'Lord."

    She loosened the grip on her pistols and took a few steps faster than Serapis, falling into her old habits, protection and extraction. She didn't want to talk about her 'habit' or Ravenous, both were sore spots for her. One she relied on, the other she wanted to extinguish, both parallels changed on the daily.

    "We should get moving. Never disappoint a Triumvirate and we have amazing seats for this fight."

    Astra loved the primal nature of the fight, no matter the tools used.

    Serapis was about to reply, but was left with his mouths open and his thumb and fingers hovering about an inch apart in the air. This human is a useful tool, he reminded himself. The comlink buzzed:
    The blast you just heard nearby was by my own design, and you know now your placement was not simply for leisure. Go. Check the wreckage, and ensure there are no survivors.
    "Now we have orders." He pushed past the girl through the Arena doors.

    Tags: @Lady Belligerent, @WookieeRage
  15. WookieeRage

    WookieeRage Force Ghost star 5

    Feb 3, 2016
    IC: Darth Ravenous, Darth Haretisch, & HelLuxury Elite, empty corridor. Combo post with Lady Belligerent and Darth_wanderguard.

    The smell of ozone was thick in the air and the fight was on.

    Darth Haretisch feigned, stepping in from the right while Hel went fully airborne, left hand tucked close to her waist while her right came high overhead, saber pointing downward and poised to impale with the force of her fall and the pivot of her body behind it - the blade’s tip aimed for Ravenous’ chest. She fought with reckless abandon, diving directly into the Sithspawn’s range even against her better judgment.

    A small snarl emerged from Ravenous as he watched Hel drop in on him. He deflected the incoming stab with both sabers by side stepping and pushing the stab outward and in one fluid motion, spun after the deflection, using his bone tipped apendages as a sort of mace to attack Hel but strangely not to kill. He would rather her see him devour her father. After the attack, Ravenous rushed forward for Haretisch with vigor, pointing both sabers at the Night Herald, looking to bury them into the man.

    Hel leapt high and brought her grandfather’s shimmering blade downward to sever the appendages Ravenous had swung at her. What had happened to him since their last meeting? She’d once trusted Darth Ravenous with her life, and yet now he was a mindless beast intent on watching her suffer.

    Haretisch slipped the Sithspawn’s attack, narrowly, and his chestplate was left with a trail of scorch marks spanning from sternum to shoulder. He wasn’t used to being this slow or this immobile. Attempting to step back and gain some distance, he stumbled. Sneering, he righted himself and found his feet. Damn it all.

    “Hel, move!” he barked. For once she listened to him, and disengaged in time to stand clear of the electric wrath which erupted from his outstretched hand. A single white-hot bolt, aimed for the center of the Sithspawn’s chest.

    Ravenous found his footing as one of his appendages was stripped away by the other 'Sith-Spawn' as he was lunging at the Night Herald. He felt no pain thanks to Dr. Black's experiments on his anatomy but felt little else either. He also reacted to the moment of weakness the Night Herald showed for Hel. By alerting her to the bolt he had alerted Ravenous and he had caught the Lightning with a free saber. It hissed around his massive frame and with his free hand he held onto a ventilator fan above. He tore it out of the ceiling with a drop of his fist and hurled the razor sharp fan through the held lightning causing it to break the circuit; It was aimed for Haretisch. Ravenous, now free in both hands targeted Hel with an outstretched hand for a choke as Haretisch had to now deal with the flung ventilator.

    Hel felt her throat tighten but resisted the urge to clutch at it. It was the struggle and the distress that made for the worst of a force choke, at least at first. Still, feeling the effects of her own inability to breathe, she wasted no time in pressing the attack, aiming a saber stroke for Ravenous’ right arm.

    Haretisch bared his teeth, and felt the bile rise in his throat. The pain in his chest and the heaviness in his feet only fed the sourness. He had given everything he had to give in fighting Insipid, and the God-Emperor had emerged alive, albeit chewed up. The Revelator was gone. His lieutenants, most likely massacred. Nothing had gone to plan today save for Hel’s survival - and that now seemed unlikely. In the plainest terms, Darth Haretisch was a failure. He had failed to secure a safer galaxy for his daughter. Failed to preserve the fragile alliance between himself and the other triumvirs. Failed to walk the line between Sith and father, between teacher and tyrant. He had even failed to die when it was all he wanted to do. Before that, he failed to be worthy of Theona Kalo. And earlier still, failed to become a Jedi like his father. The life of Darth Haretisch to this moment had been a master class in failure of every sort. Now he was failing to protect his only offspring, his legacy, his life, from an inbred mutant cannibal beast. Failure was a bitter pill he was growing tired of tasting.

    Fed by fifty some-odd years of rage and shame and indignation, Darth Haretisch flung the ventilator aside with a stray thought and drew on every mite and modicum of pain in his body and soul, from bruised toes to broken teeth and every hurt and humiliation in between, and loosed it with a strangled yell as he grasped for Ravenous in the force. Upon every bone, every organ, every blood vessel, he would feel a sudden crushing weight as the Night Herald’s wrath fell upon him in waves, again and again like a cluster of concussion grenades exploding from every direction, yanking him one direction and then the next, up, down, hither and thither like an angry child’s rag doll.

    He had blocked Hel's simple attack easily but was lifted before he could attempt a riposte. He felt the weight upon his chest as his head collided with the wall adjacent to him. It seemed like time slowed and something broke free in his mind. He could feel a sliver of remorse for attacking his friend, one who he swore a life debt to.


    He was slammed backwards into the wall. As he collided, he tried bracing with his arm and it snapped against the wall.

    "Hel! Please, make him.."


    "Stop! My mind was not my own! The Emperor has used me as a thrall! Please! You must see it’s me! Wuulfwarg!”

    With one final exertion, Haretisch lifted the Wookiee into the air and slammed him face first into the durasteel floor with a resounding clang. Shifting his focus, he captured the bowcaster which lay behind them further down the corridor, and sent it flying into Hel’s grasp.

    “Kill him!” the Night Herald frothed. “Finish it!!” There was naught but viciousness in his words - no thought spared for the bond shared between Wuulfwarg and Hel, nor for the Wookiee’s life debt, or past deeds whatever. He was an enemy to be crushed.

    Ravenous’ head bouncing off the floor blurred his vision but he must keep it together; for survival.He sighed heavily at the Night Herald’s vicious commanding of Hel before raising his head up to look up the barrel of his own bowcaster and into Hel's eyes, a tense moment passed as Hel contemplated.

    "..Can you not see what he is trying to do to you? I'm here now, it's me, Wuulfwarg.. Look what being a Sith has climaxed into for me.. I'm a monster! Why would he not kill me himself!? He tossed me around like I was nothing! You must see his manipulation! The same he has done to you again and again! He is turning you into a monster of his own! You must turn that weapon upon the Night Herald before he gets you killed!”

    Ravenous pointed at Haretisch; his shattered arm trembling, hoping the bowcaster would follow. Maybe she would buy him time to escape out of pity as he knew Haretisch would never leave him alive, he was too smart, too paranoid.

    "We can leave this place, start new... We should've left when we were back in Moraband before Abeloth, when things were simpler."

    Hel aimed the weapon at Rav’s throat. It was bulky and felt awkward in her grasp, but she held it firm.

    “He’s not turning me into anything, friend,” her voice was calm, but firm as she spoke, “And neither will you.”

    She was aware of the beating Haretisch had taken, and that made her more determined to get him to Dr. Cal. They had to deal with the situation and hurry along.

    “Your mistake was trying to choke me,” she said as she stepped closer.

    The attack was swift. She brought the butt of the bowcaster around and into the Wookiee’s temple like she was trying to decapitate him, and then fired off a shot aimed for his right femur in hopes that the combination would render him dazed or unconscious.

    Now on all fours Ravenous knew his ploy was over. He wouldn't be able to sway Hel to kill her father and time seemed to slow as she stepped closer. His next sentence seemed to expunge any light and bring a new darkness into the hall, each word was gritted and precise.

    "Well I guess we're done with pleasantries..."

    He pressed hard into the ground, bending his crippled arm almost in half, then, something happened.. His broken arm wobbled and straightened with a crack. It was still broken, but it seems the Gen-Dai DNA from Darth Cruor surfaced in an unexpected way. Inside the husk of Ravenous Gen-Dai tissue reinforced the broken bone causing it to function. There would be terrible pain if Ravenous were able to feel it. He knew the pain was there but Dr. Black's experiments inhibited his pain receptors; There was only hate left... And that would be enough.

    As Hel closed in he sprang to life, catching the stock of his bowcaster before it landed upon his temple, he used his superior strength to maneuver Hel's aim toward Haretisch. The shot went off and Ravenous spun close to Hel, pushing her behind him before grabbing a belted saber with the same hand for protection after the motion. Haretisch's injuries had to be wearing on him so the Sith-Spawn, now with distance between Hel and himself reached his Gen-Dai reinforced arm towards the Night Heralds midsection. He reached through the force into the ribs of Haretisch with a Shatterpoint technique. Ravenous filled the cracks of the broken ribs with the his hate. His fist gripped tightly trying to cause the most pain. He kept Hel in his peripheral. He needed to either end this soon or find the Emperor and report Darth Kronos' treachery which also mean... His failure.

    The bowcaster shot sailed wide but only by inches. And while Haretisch would have easily closed the distance in a blink were he not so physically impaired, it was a tall order when he couldn’t even catch his breath. More than that, he needed fuel. He wouldn’t have to wait long for it.

    He saw the shatterpoint coming. He could have almost negated it. He didn’t. For the Night Herald, pain was a tonic. So as Ravenous reached into the cracks of each of his broken ribs, he not only allowed it to happen. He embraced it. And as the pain roared through him, he did not tremble as he might have. There were no white spots in his vision, as most might have experienced in the moments before losing consciousness when bearing that amount of pain.

    No, it only strengthened his focus. Even as his body began to fail, and he fell to a knee, his command of the force grew deeper. And Darth Ravenous had made a potentially fatal mistake. Haretisch threw a hand forward, eyes shut as he stretched out to map the Wookiee’s brain. Every electrical impulse, neural pathway and nerve fiber which made up the twisted consciousness of the traitorous Sithspawn began to come into focus - and when it was all crystal clear, he launched a trio of mind shards into its midst. The pain wouldn’t even be the worst of it. Every inch of Darth Ravenous’ body would go stiff, his focus would blank, every faculty would lapse - just for a moment. It would be long enough.

    “Do it!” Haretisch snarled.

    Hel sprung forward, blazing emerald lightsaber in hand, and aimed a thrust for the middle of Ravenous’ back.

    Ravenous was staggered as he fought off the sequential mindshards. Two were fought off barely, the third connected. Hel's blade landed off center in the thrust when Ravenous' nerves caused him to squirm violently, through the kidney and out the midsection. Ravenous finally felt something; the white hot blade of the saber. His remaining tentacles sprang to life as the blade sunk in his abdomen and the shard faded; The pain was a non-factor. They wrapped backwards and found the target on Hel's back; She had tunnel vision in her strike and was vulnerable. Ravenous rubbed salt in the wound with his next words. He looked at the Night Herald defiantly, but his words were meant for Hel.

    "I said he was going to get you killed."

    Oof. Hel had dodged, but only quickly enough to avoid the razor sharp bone spur. The body of one tentacle still struck hard enough to take the breath from her. As it wrapped around she found the spur digging deeply into the flesh of her shoulder, and she loosed a piercing howl. She flailed back with one hand as she found her footing, severing the tentacle with her lightsaber. It fell to the ground wriggling, but she was still left to contend with another and was now wounded. Without intervention the tentacles would win.

    “No!” Haretisch rasped, and with what little physical strength he had left it was a weaker exclamation than he had hoped. Desperate not to see her ripped apart, he threw a hand forward and gathered his focus. The attacking appendage burst into flames at his bidding and shriveled away.

    The Sith-Spawn sneered as his appendages were brutalized but now was his chance, he had to offer a trade of sorts to get what he wanted. Luckily for Ravenous the Night Herald had been dragged through the gauntlet before they crossed paths and Haretisch was equally lucky for Kronos' disregard for the Emperor's orders and his later coward-like retreat for a meer piece of flesh. He would suffer for his treachery as well. Ravenous focused all of his energy into the next action. He rushed forward with speed and grasped the Night Herald’s arm. For Darth Haretisch, it was a perfect storm - overcommitment to his defensive measures against the tentacles, and his own injured state. He was simply too slow now to stop what was coming. There was an instant of eye contact, just before Ravenous thrust the bone-spear tip of his remaining appendage into the shoulder socket of Haretisch.

    Squelch. Pop.

    Haretisch groaned in agony as his arm was ripped free at the shoulder, a wet crunch sounding as cords of tendon and flesh were the last bits to tear, now hanging from the wound and severed limb alike. Ravenous bit into the arm and took off up through the ventilator shaft. He had to find the Emperor and tell him of what happened here and Kronos' deception as well as face his own failure in not killing Haretisch. He did have some fresh flesh to regenerate his body now however. There would be another time to kill the Night Herald but Ravenous would have no qualms if someone else put his head on a pike first.

    Hel was still smarting from the wound in her shoulder when she saw that the Night Herald had crumpled to the floor like a wet paper bag, unconscious and bleeding profusely from his wound, breaths ragged and short and far between.

    TAG: No one
  16. QueenSabe7

    QueenSabe7 Chosen One star 6

    Mar 23, 2001
    IC: Leda
    The Luxury Elite

    Leda entered the suite at Lord Hades’ side, nodding once in greeting before turning to wink at the odd-looking protocol droid that had granted the pair of Sith admittance. She was feeling giddy, the swell of pride and honor that surged within making it an absolute struggle not to grin with unabashed glee.

    She bit her lip, trying to remember her place…. but failed.

    The corner of her mouth twitched into a haughty smirk while she strode towards the Dawn Herald, the fascinating woman seated by the prominent viewport her personal chambers provided. Leda offered a bow of her head as she came to a stop opposite her, a low table covered in various documents and tech between them. Clearly in awe of all that had transpired recently, the blonde anxiously fidgeted with the helmet nestled beneath her arm while turning her gaze towards the transparisteel wall at her side, peering into the black void of space beyond. The enormous outline of the Night Herald’s flagship, the Revelator, took up most of the view, an array of heavy traffic peppering the surrounding area.

    There was an apparent thrill in the air, both on board the Luxury Elite and out there among the stars, the upcoming fight spreading excitement and expectations among those planning to attend. The young warrior – with her jumbled emotions as they were – found herself as eager for the match as most. She’d already placed a rather ridiculous wager against the human combatant using the credits she had been given for the previous mission and was certain she’d receive a large return. How anyone would bet against a multi-armed, mostly-cyborg Sith was beyond her and she would gladly take credits from that brand of idiot.

    Catching Bellorum moving to her feet out of the corner of her eye, Leda snapped to attention with the expectation of a new command. Or perhaps a reward? She had pocketed a few jewels from the heist for herself because, well… she deserved them, but if her Lady wished to formally present her with a symbol of her personal thanks for a job well done, who would she be to refuse? As she mused over what kind of lofty prize a triumvir could afford, a brilliant flash filled the entire suite with an intense white glow, fading away almost as quickly as it had set on. The effect was temporarily blinding and she stumbled as her sight strained to return, blinking repeatedly and rubbing her eyes with the back of a hand. The floor rocked and shuddered soon after, though she managed to plant her feet and remain steady this time.

    Finally able to see properly again, she looked around wildly before returning her focus to the viewport, her jaw going slack. The Revelator. The behemoth destroyer was in pieces, the vacuum of space having dissipated any immediate effects of the obvious explosion that had torn the ship apart. Chunks were now breaking away from one another to create a rapidly expanding debris field, a wave of death radiating outward in the Force ahead of it.

    What the kriff was this about? And why?

    In her shock, Leda barely registered that Bellorum was speaking, catching only part of her words.

    “I hated the name of that thing... like he named it after a sex toy.”

    So random and unexpected was this sequence of events that upon hearing that sentence, Leda laughed quite loud – and perhaps a bit hysterically. Catching herself a few seconds later, she managed to choke off the inappropriate display and pull herself together only to see the Dawn Herald and Hades already on the move. Fighting off the continuingly unnatural urge to giggle while pondering the connection between a war ship and a device of a very personal nature used behind closed doors, the warrior jogged a few steps and followed her superiors onto a private lift. Her eyes wide and curious, she had no clue what was currently unraveling but had the distinct impression that Bellorum did – of course she did.

    “Execute A New Dawn,” came the Dawn Herald’s next command once the doors had sealed the trio-plus-droid in, an unknown order that caused a mix of fear and anticipation to override most of Leda’s other tumultuous feelings.

    But then there was something… else

    The vivid image of a red-headed female’s face forced its way into her mind, her familiar features overrun by a fiery flash and a rush of black smoke. Syren. In that same instant, a brutal stab of pain shot through the center of Leda’s abdomen - the very spot that had lingered with the odd aftereffects from her previous vision. Managing to stifle a shriek, the warrior clutched at her stomach and hunched over slightly, not daring to breath until the discomfort passed, which it did before the lift reached its destination.

    Following the others out onto the bridge but being sure to trail behind, she only hoped no one took note of her reaction. It would be unexplainable to anyone but herself, the event having told her in a nonsensical but certain way that Syren was close by… and in danger. Where and to what end she wouldn’t know and now was not the time to try and find out. More than that, a mental alarm was sounding off in her thoughts and she knew it was most likely making her appear frazzled when she needed to be collected and prepared.

    She could not deny she had been thoroughly thrown, though.

    A thousand questions swimming around in her thoughts, she wisely remained silent and waited for answers to come to her. Watching from a distance as the female Dark Lord made a grand speech and proclaimed herself the sole ruler of the galaxy, she was rewarded with a few. The chiss had made a play for the throne, casting aside Haretisch, Insipid and their followers with mere words to which Leda was beyond impressed.

    Just like that, there was no God-Emperor for her any longer. There was only Empress Bellorum, Queen of the Twilight.

    Bold move, Leda thought with a smile, her free hand absently resting upon her still-tingling stomach. Never had she thought she would suddenly be so close to the top. She had dreamt of it, she had craved it, and now here she was; witnessing the beginnings of a new regime from the front lines. Surely the new Empress would recall what she had so recently accomplished in her name…

    “Commander Leda,” she heard Bellorum call.

    How could she forget, Leda told herself smugly, straightening and stepping forward at the sound of her name.

    “I sense Haretisch needs assistance leaving. I’d like you to see that he’s removed from my ship, however he has several cronies that he brought along for the prize fight. See that they are all eliminated from my property.”

    “Yes, my Empress,” she responded with a low bow, grinning openly now as she stood tall once more. Tasked with removing a deposed triumvir was no small assignment, one that she would not see fail.

    “Speaking of my property, do your best not to trash the ship. One more thing, spare the lives of any Sith who decides to join my Empire. The rest are useless.”

    Slowly placing her black-as-pitch helmet upon her head, Leda nodded once and turned on her heels, pinging a signal from her comm as she marched from the suite. Moments later she was leading the Twilight Guard down a main corridor of the pleasure cruiser, the formidable soldiers falling in line behind her without a single misstep as their violet-lined capes billowed out behind each in a regal manner. One such member of the company, a lieutenant, hurriedly rushed to the head of the contingent and spoke at the Sith’s side.

    “Commander, scouts have located a lone shuttle preparing for launch in hangar L13,” a measured voice informed from beneath its helmet.

    “Thank you, Lieutenant. We will cut them off before they can flee and give them a more… proper send-off,” she decided on the fly, a sudden desire to continue to prove her mettle overriding the simple mission directive.

    Leading the way to the hangar, Leda briefly wondered if Syren would be among those that were now her enemy. She realized then that it would make no difference if she was; any that refused her were refusing the Empress. And for that, she would give no quarter, show now mercy.

    TAGS: @Lady Belligerent @E. L.Knight @dragonsith13 ( @Darth_wanderguard )
  17. Kaleesh-Cyborg

    Kaleesh-Cyborg Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Jan 4, 2017
    Combo with Darth_wanderguard
    Grievance Vexx - Trying to Get Out Alive

    Vexx has only one thing on his mind at this point: survival. As he crawls through clouds of billowing smoke in search of an exit from this room, he hears his comlink go off with a familiar voice.

    If any of you are still alive, know that we have been betrayed and that the triumvirate is no more. Darth Bellorum who would see the galaxy burn to call herself queen of the ashes, and Darth Insipid who would poison his own mother if only to undermine an enemy, have fired the opening shots of a war I have tried desperately to avert since arriving in this time.

    There is a shuttle, the location of which Hel is forwarding to each of you now, waiting to take us all to safety. Make haste, as we cannot delay.

    Well, he certainly isn't going to stay here and wait for this Hel person to send him the information. He has to get out of here. Once again, he drags himself forward, trying to at least rise to a quadruped position. After a few faltering attempts, he rights himself and moves along the wall seeking a doorway to slip through. He finally finds it and the sheer will to survive gives him the strength to get his legs up under him and he staggers out into a smoking hallway. Still reeling from the blast, he ducks into an alcove to clear his head, calm himself, and wait for the coordinates of where he is supposed to go.

    In the metal encasing his organic brain, Grievance Vexx will feel tiny pin pricks of electrical interference like Morse code. The coordinates are being transferred - they’re just taking longer than usual. No doubt due to the sheer number of comm frequencies active in the chaos of the battle rapidly unfolding.

    “I heard something from this way. We’re close to where the suite was,” a voice comes from down the hall. A roll of footsteps beating out of time. A quartet, perhaps.

    Then they turn the corner. A quartet indeed - four heavy security troopers, each outfitted with a heavy repeating blaster and mounted transparisteel shield, and riot armor. Sent specifically to subdue the cyborg. As they approach, they spot Vexx ducked into an alcove.

    “Blast him!” the leader orders, and all four enemies open fire. The corridor is narrow - none has an adequate angle to shoot Vexx outright. But they pin him down nonetheless with alternating bursts of fire, scoring marks in the wall beyond and just around the corner from the cyborg.

    The incoming coordinates certainly create an unpleasant sensation that draws an irritated growl from Vexx as he is already in a considerable amount of discomfort. He might have known things were only going to get worse. Through the ringing in his ears and the crackling in his brain, he vaguely distinguishes the approaching voice and footsteps. Great. More trouble. Just what he always wanted.

    He crouches close to the floor as the troopers appear and open fire. In his disoriented state, Vexx has no idea where to go. It has not come to him yet to lean on the Force to aid his escape. He knows it's fight or flight at this point, but he isn't sure he trusts his fighting skills to bring him out of this alive. He remains pinned where he is for several heartbeats, but he knows his time here is extremely limited. The troopers will eventually get brave enough to round the corner and blast him directly. If they are standard blaster bolts, a well-placed shot could kill him; if they are ion blasts, any shot will immobilize him and he will be completely at their mercy. He cannot take chances here.

    Still, he is not one to retreat and so his trembling hand reaches for his lightsaber, which he swiftly activates and immediately employs Soresu to deflect the blaster bolts so that he can get to a position from which he can fight. Rising quickly, he leaps out of the alcove, turning himself in midair to land feet first and anchor his talons into the adjacent wall of the corridor. It is an effective move, but not executed to perfection due to the disorientation of his senses and the stubbornly lingering pain from being within such close proximity to the blast that had hailed in this nightmare that is now his reality.

    From his position attached to the wall, he continues the defensive maneuvers of Soresu, deflecting blaster bolts in all directions as the hailstorm continues on him. At the moment, his main intent is survival and freedom. He is not about to surrender to these trigger-happy lunatics and he has already established in his mind that he will not die here. But his intent is without true focus and he knows from his training with Draconis that this lack of focus will get him nowhere.

    At last, he finds the mindset to lean on the Force to balance him in this time of pain and physical weakness, letting it guide his sword arm and his defenses suddenly have a purpose; the purpose to deflect and return fire. For as many blaster bolts as the troopers unleash on the cyborg, they will now find themselves almost instantly having to dodge every shot themselves.

    Two of the four are struck immediately. One eats a bolt to each side of the chest and dies where he stands, crumpling to the floor in a heap. The other catches one in the forehead, a glancing blow, but his visor is shattered. Like a fool he whips the helmet off to better see his target, and in that moment is struck again in the face. He falls, his lower jaw now in multiple pieces as he loses consciousness from the shock and concussion.

    The two remaining troopers are so taken aback by the suddenness of the reversal that they stop firing, and each ducks into an alcove on either side of the corridor, affording Grievance a moment to breathe.

    Faintly, the cyborg will hear a comlink activate, and one of the troopers calling for backup. In the same moment, his own comlink will chime with the promised coordinates. The most direct path will take him forward and into the arms of the enemy, down the long corridor in front of him, up a stairwell, and through some twists and turns to the nearest hangar. A mix of good luck and bad.

    Under normal circumstances, the Kaleesh would have savored taking on multiple troopers just because he enjoys an opportunity for combat, but not now. Under enough duress as it is just trying to get out of here alive, the troopers only add to the frustration. Grievance is relieved to drop two out of the four as a result of his defensive maneuvers. The other two retreating in a cease-fire is even more encouraging, but there is little to take advantage of. He knows before he hears it that they will be calling for backup.

    Upon receiving the coordinates, he curses in Kaleesh. This is turning out to be a really rotten day so far. Curse Haretisch and his stinking holocron! He wouldn't be here now if it hadn't been for that barbaric prize fight he had been drafted into. Of all the routes there could be to get to the hangar, this one is going to lead him into imminent danger. It's the same blasted direction those four troopers had come from! He curses again as he drops from the wall, landing unsteadily on his feet with a deep groan of pain as the impact jars his bruised organic parts.

    A staggering breath and he is on his way, igniting a second lightsaber as he charges up the corridor, blades spinning like deadly propellers on either side of him. As he passes the adjacent alcoves where the remaining troopers are hiding, he extends his arms with the intent of cutting both of them down simultaneously without having to delay his course. He knows their backup will be coming soon and he wants to cover as much ground as possible before they respond. Force knows more explosions could rock this orbiting death trap and he wants to get out of here before that happens.

    Not stopping to take stock of the damage he may have done to the two hiding troopers, he extinguishes his sabers and returns them to his hip armor, dropping to a quadruped position to better accelerate his heavy body, scrambling like a scorpion along the floor. Extending his sense in the Force, he picks up signatures heading his way and alters his course just a little. He is still moving toward the staircase, but he has scuttled up the wall and is now traveling upside down along the ceiling in an effort to avoid another confrontation.

    Finally the signatures Grievance senses come into view. Reaching the bottom of the stairwell is another pair of troopers, this time armed with riot shields and stun batons. The blue ionic glow emanating from the end of each weapon is unmistakable - these men are armed specifically to disable droids. One touch and Vexx will be paralyzed.

    Spotting the cyborg clinging to the shallow ceiling, one troopers shouts to the other and both prepare to engage. The first leaps and whips his baton high against the wall. The weapon meets the durasteel surface with a clang, and a crackling knot of cobalt energy travels down its length, arcing up and onto the ceiling perfectly on course to hit its target.

    The cyborg freezes as the footsteps precede the appearance of the troopers. He stays perfectly still just beyond the stairwell and flattens himself against the ceiling, hoping in vain that he will not be noticed. Thankfully, it is only two troopers that appear as backup; not-so-thankfully, they are armed with what will be far worse for Vexx than blasters. He curses under his breath in Kaleesh as he sees their weapons and curses again when they spot him and react, backing away from them while still clinging to the ceiling.

    There is no time for a plan. Vexx is forced to react immediately or pay a humiliating price. As the trooper moves to strike the wall, the cyborg springs backwards and drops from the ceiling, trying to stay out of range as he rotates while falling so that he will land on his feet. The instant he lands, he sends out a Force-wave, hoping to buy a little more distance between himself and his would-be assailants. Not that it will do him much good. They can still disable him by sending ion currents through the floor as the one had attempted to do on sighting him.

    He remains ready to take evasive action, doubtful that a Force-wave will be enough to put them to flight if they are under orders to apprehend him. He has to kill them somehow; at the very least, render them unconscious, but he can't afford to get into close quarters with them and he is surrounded by nothing but narrow corridors right now. There is only one thing he can think of at this point--no, two things. He could Force-choke both of them or he could fry them with a power he has yet to experiment with. Force-lightning is the idea he favors right now. Why not give them a taste of their own medicine? The most it could do is backfire on his metal body, but something in him really wants to try it.

    So he does. Drawing on the anger he feels toward them regarding him as a droid, he stretches his clawed hand toward them and visualizes himself as a catalyst for enough high voltage to light up this entire ship. He feels the build start deep in his chest; somewhere at the seat of his very soul. The tingling moves to the shoulder of his outstretched arm and gradually turns to a dull ache as the power begs to be unleashed. His hand begins to burn and he lets it go; a blinding thick tangle of blue-white electricity arcing toward both troopers.

    As he does, his arm is blown back by the recoil. The lightning slams into both troopers like a speeding landskiff, the conductivity of Vexx’s metallic form lending itself to the blast of energy. One trooper is thrown aside like a ragdoll, striking the wall hard enough to knock him out cold. The other leaves his feet as well, cuts a flip in midair and careens headfirst into the stairs behind. A sickening crack sounds as he makes impact, like a wooden plank snapping in half. The man’s neck is now bent at a ninety degree angle.

    Vexx, however, is worse for wear. His arm is scorched and sparking and useless. Paralyzed - or at least it will be until it’s repaired.

    The cyborg didn't have any real way of knowing that some of the cries of pure agony had been his own. Just as in the time he had pursued Alva though badly wounded, this is a matter of survival and he is not above taking detrimental risks if it can keep him alive to pursue freedom in the long run. In this case, electrical charge from his own arm had brought him to his knees and eventual collapse by the time the intent of his actions had been completed. He now is struggling to rise, his arm useless and snarling with electrical aftershock from shoulder to wrist. His hand is blackened and gnarled; even his fingers are unresponsive.

    He shouldn't have done it. Panic seizes him as he realizes he has crippled himself should he have need of the Jar'Kai technique in future combat. While he is fully confident in his Makashi form and needing only one lightsaber to be effective, he also favors using multiple weapons when faced with groups of enemies. What a fool he had been! Encased in metal and playing with electricity. How stupid! He has to push his self-condemning thoughts from his mind though. It is a mechanical arm after all and it can be repaired; even replaced if necessary. His arm will be the least of his worries if he doesn't get out of here.

    Staggering to his feet, he trudges forward, stepping over and around the bodies of the troopers he's recently felled, his damaged arm hanging limp at his side with sparks still popping at every joint. He moves up the staircase, taking the stairs three at a time in his extended stride. He tries to move swiftly and silently, but disorienting pain biting into his shoulder makes a joke out of his attempts at stealth. Up one corridor and down another; two lefts and a right...oh, Force, he hopes that destination isn't much further and even more so, he hopes he doesn't run into anymore trouble.

    Finally, the hangar is just up ahead. As the corridor ends and the large open space of the hangar begins, Vexx is met with a booming voice.

    ‘Don’t move!’

    There’s an armed shuttle on the far side of the room, and the voice is emanating from its loudspeaker. Though the cyborg doesn’t know it yet, Dr. Cal Jepsun is at the controls. He spots Vexx easily in the otherwise empty hangar, and the ship’s guns shift to stare down the possible threat.

    ‘Come a step closer and you’re dead! Who are you?’

    The Kaleesh freezes on the spot, startled by the loudness of the voice. He had felt a glimmer of hope only moments before when he saw the corridor open up. Now his heart drops somewhere around his durasteel ankles. This is it. He may just end up dying here after all. The lights from the shuttle are a painful offense to his eyes, amplifying the pounding pain in his head as he raises the one hand that still works to shield his face from the glare. He lowers himself slightly in an effort to make himself appear smaller and less of a threat. He will not surrender without a fight, but he will try to avoid a fight at the moment seeing as how he is down an arm.

    "What difference does it make?" he rasps around a choked cough, "If you are in league with the one who just bombed the hell out of this place, I'm dead anyway because I will not defect from the Night Herald just to become a tool for someone else to use. Either do your due diligence and open fire or let me go in peace."

    His eyes having at last adapted to the glaring light, he drops his hand and stares at the shuttle. He means every word he has said; whoever is manning that shuttle can fill him full of holes right where he stands. At least he will die with his loyalty intact and if he must die in captivity, he will make sure he goes down with honor. He is fully expecting that he only has moments left to live and draw breath as he does not recognize the amplified voice coming at him. It has to be someone working for that faceless female who has staked her claim on the Luxury Elite. The cyborg raises his head and squares his shoulders, prepared to face whatever decision the shuttle operator will make regarding his immediate fate.

    Mention of the Night Herald gives Cal pause, and he takes his thumb off of the guns. He recognizes the cyborg as one of the fighters - Grievance Vexx - and knows him to be one of Haretisch’s associates.

    He hesitates. They need allies right now, more than anything, but there’s nothing to say that this cyborg is really loyal. He could easily be one of the parties responsible for whatever is going on, of which Cal has been able to glean limited details by listening to the comm scanner.

    Cal rubs his forehead. Before he can spend too much more time contemplating, however, he hears the pounding of an approaching march, and his stomach sinks. Quickly, he keys in what he thinks to be the Kaleesh’s comm signal. He doesn’t want this said over the speaker.

    “If you’re on our side, it looks like you might be about to get a chance to prove it,”
    he says, moments before the Twilight Guard crosses the threshold into the hangar, with its black-clad commander at the vanguard.

    The loudspeaker crackles to life again.

    ‘Uh, uh yes. Can we help you?’

    Cal slaps himself.

    Vexx growls in exhausted frustration as the individual in the shuttle speaks of proving himself. Not again. His eyes shift to where the footfalls are coming from and then he looks at his arm hanging limp at his side. Technically, he still has two arms to spare, but his right side will be completely unprotected and how much is that useless arm going to get in his way?

    He starts to reply to the man in the shuttle with a scathingly sarcastic comment, but a sudden jolt from his shoulder socket sets off sparks that bring the cyborg to his knees in pain. Both of his hands strike the floor as he goes to all fours and he finds his arm is actually holding him up. One would have thought the arm in its current state would have collapsed in its paralysis, but somehow the painful jolt has restored its use. Vexx can only wonder how long that will last.

    Unwilling to take this stroke of luck for granted, he lurches to his feet and closes the fingers of both hands around the hilts of two lightsabers on his hip armor. Igniting them simultaneously, he turns to face the Twilight Guard and company.

    Tag: @Darth_wanderguard
  18. Snokers

    Snokers Jedi Master star 4

    Jul 8, 2015
    Combo post with the ever sublime @Lady Belligerent

    Darth Anark and Empress Bellorum, Queen of The Twilight
    The bridge...

    He had no love for her. None. But duty and habit forced him to respect her. As Anark charged out onto the bridge he stopped in his tracks and gave a short bow of the head to Bellorum. The Dawn Herald was heavily guarded. Anark’s eyes darted back and forth.

    He unclipped his outer robe and let it fall in a pool of black shimmering fabricon the floor. He pointed a thumb behind him, all the while maintaining eye contact with hisadversary, “I think I broke your door...”

    “I am aware,” replied Bellorum as she turned to face the intruders. “You were allowed to come this far.

    The Dark Lady appeared bored as she sat on an ornate chair. The bridge crew was silent as they watched, and only the hum and ping of the bridge computers filled the air.

    “Shall I assume you’re here to pledge yourself to my Empire?” Her tone was not mocking, but close.

    ’Insipid sent only two?’ She wondered silently if she should be insulted.

    Ten Elite Twilight Guards were positioned in an arc around the former Dawn Herald. Their armor concealed themenacing expressions of the guards who were prepared to die for Bellorum if necessary.

    When they didn’t reply right away Anark and Titus would have felt the Force pulling them down. An invisible hand pressing their bodies to the flooring. She had picked Titus to hone in on first. He was resisting, and kept his kneeslocked tight, and fought to keep his head up

    Anark spoke through gritted teeth as he himself began tobe pulled downwards.

    “I’d maybe have considered joining ‘your Empire’ if it had alife expectancy of more then a few days.”

    His face twisted into a grimace as he planted his feet strong and stood at his full height, “how long have you waited tostrike, m’lady? Even if you somehow succeed and all who oppose you are defeated, what then?” A snort escaped him - but it was an anxious one as opposed to genuine amusement - an anxiety that was echoed in the eyes of Titus.

    ‘We may have gotten ourselves in too deep this time...’ a voice in his head whispered.

    He eyed the guards. He had half a dozen throwing knives stowed in the back of his utility belt but that there was noway they were getting through that armour. Perhaps Bellorum would opt for a duel in her arrogance.

    Anark wondered if a meld would be possible with Titus...

    Titus was on his knees and pupils fixed. Neither Anark or Titus had seen the whisper thin hair pin from Bellorum’s hair fly across the space between her and the intruders. Once she had decided which one to keep, she’d sent the sedative laced hairpin flying across and into Titus’ neck. Once she’d let go of her grip on Titus, he’d fell to the floor. She’d noted that his eyes were still open and staring, maybe she’d applied too much of the drug? Oh, well...he was still breathing, and now her prisoner.

    Two guards had stepped forward of off the shadows and removed Titus. It all had been executed quickly and wasn’t difficult since Bellorum had planned for many more Sith to storm the bridge.

    “Drop your weapons and I shall allow you to live.” This time her voice had taken an edge. There were other matters to attend to and she was disappointed that neither Haretisch, nor Insipid had come for her.

    Anark ignored the heep on the floor that was Titus. He could feel a large bead of sweat trickle all the way to the bottom of his spine. His eyes were bulging and bloodshot, his lips pursed as he gnawed at his tongue.

    He began to pace back and forth, his gaze never deviating from the graceful form of Bellorum on her throne.

    "Surely you know by now that I will not serve you willingly, Dawn Herald. You'd never be able to turn your back. Isurrender my lightsaber here and now and you behead me and grind me up in the Luxury Elite's trash compactor."

    He stood firm and still with his arms behind his back.

    "I take my chances with your compliment of armored guards," he gazed around at them, "if I get the better of them, you strike me down whilst I pick off the last few... I toss the thermal detonator stashed in my buttocks pocketat the viewport, and, depending on your new flagships safety enhancements, we're all sucked out into the cold dark of space."

    Anark pushed a damp lock of hair out of his eyes.

    "The situation is... sticky."

    This youngling was going to test her patience. Patience wasn’t something the Dawn Her - nay, Empress, was known for.

    “You’ve not earned the honor to fight me,” Bellorum leaned forward in her seat, “so, that’s not on the table.”

    She stood, turning her back on Anark to gaze out of the massive viewports.

    “Get out of my sight and you live,” she told him, “or use your puny grenade and I’ll watch you die.”

    A wave of relief washed over Anark. The situation was more precarious than he could have imagined, that he ever wanted to imagine. The pillars that were holding the last great Sith Empire up were crumbling rapidly beneath it.

    Anark pivoted on his heels, not bothering to retrieve his outer robes from the floor. He half turned and spat on the floor where Titus had lain.

    "I promise you, you will die in this room."

    He walked out and began to hurry when he got out of the bridge. He clambered back down the maintenance shaft and began his search for The Emperor.

    This would take numbers.
  19. Mitth_Fisto

    Mitth_Fisto Force Ghost star 6

    Sep 29, 2005
    IC: Soliloquy
    Amphitheatre, Where the big fight is more interactive than any dreamed.

    The reaction had not been unwelcomed, but the truth was still there. It wasn't much of anything to see the shots deflected, to witness the pause instead of a retaliation. They were satisfied, they were safe for they were one, the one was many, and the Sisterhood still had meaning beyond a forgone history.

    Protestations that the allied were none by the woman, the result was still the same. She had left, Zalen had left them and their allie alone. Turning to Mallace the droid body wasted no time as it spoke the words, "We must hurry." before it began to run away. Towards the shortest route toward where they needed to retreat to. Whether Mallace came or not was to her, they had done more for her than most would, now it was up to her if that stood for or meant anything beyond a brief moment of charity.

    TAG: @Lady Belligerent , @Darth Kronos , @Sinrebirth
  20. WookieeRage

    WookieeRage Force Ghost star 5

    Feb 3, 2016
    IC: Darth Ravenous
    Luxury Elite (Ventilation)

    He had narrowly escaped the ordeal alive. He would've been happy to die, if only a fair fight was there but Kronos... Darth Kronos had abandoned his orders. For only a piece of flesh; Esmerelda...

    A Moff in the fleet and a pretty one as well. I wonder if she tastes as sweet as her looks.

    The Night Herald's flesh did not taste so sweet. It was putrid. It was defiled, pathetic and flimsy. The tendons were tense, but such was expected from a bout with the God Emperor and himself. The Sith-Spawn had barely escaped alive but here he was. Tucked in a corner of the air-duct, munching on body parts. He would make Kronos pay before his own punishment at the hands of Insipid. After his sustenance, his testicles found their place in the walls of the ducts and they propelled the Sith-Spawn towards the hangar bay. He sent a message through com's, if the Emperor cared.

    "Darth Kronos has gone AWOL, I'm tracking him and will bring him before you, Mi'Lord. I have failed in killing the Night Herald... Kronos had a chance but he chose a different path, I won't fail you this time... Forgive me.."

    Tag: @Sinrebirth @Darth Kronos @Darth_wanderguard
  21. Darth Kronos

    Darth Kronos Jedi Grand Master star 5

    Jan 2, 2016
    IC: Darth Kronos, Esmeralda, and Ike - Luxury Elite in Chaos

    Kronos was desperately trying to stay calm in the middle of the chaos that surrounded him. The revelation of the betrayal plots, the choice to run away from the fight with Haretisch - a decision that he knew would not go unnoticed. No choice went without consequences when it came to the Sith - and the fact that Esme's presence within the Force was blurry to him. He felt her, he knew she was still alive, but her exact location was unknown to him. All he could to was desperately search for her and hope no one else found her first.

    A sense of malice overcame his senses. Ike. With the intent to murder....


    His proximity to her caused a new jolt of fear to rush throughout his body, and he immediately yanked his lightsaber from his belt in a knee-jerk reaction to it.

    Ike allowed Kronos to know his location, and, without further contemplation, sprinted toward the indicated area, hoping he could reach it before Ike did.

    Ike took Esmerelda with the Force by the throat, tugging her into his hand but not choking her. As she reached him, Esme grabbed at his wrist and wrenched down, kicking out at his stomach. Surprised, Ike took the hit and staggered back. 'That is not the kind of thing you should expect from a expecting mother,' he clucked. Esmerelda's hand went to her mouth, a moment of shock to herself. How could he tell her something like that, so callously, as such an aside to their moment.

    Ike wagged a finger condescendingly and slammed her into the wall - just as the Force sung with Kronos's arrival.

    He looked up from Esme, back to Kronos, but for a moment Ike was completely open in the Force, though the distance between the two of them was too far for a blade strike. He simply snickered, Ike spreading his arms broadly out, intending to slam his palms together and crush the fetus with a smash.

    Ike hated Kronos and Esme for their relationship. For their strengthening bond in the face of everything which had torn him and Insipid apart. Why should they have what he had lost?

    As soon as Kronos saw Ike tightly holding Esme by the throat, a combination of fear and rage shot through him. Upon seeing this horrific sight, he ignited his blade. Ike simply gave him a quick glance before returning his attention to Esme, realizing, probably at the same time as Kronos did, that the distance was too far for a lightsaber strike. Even throwing it was too risky as Kronos could accidentally kill Esme.

    His heart rate quickened from the stress.

    That was when an opportunity opened itself. Ike was left vulnerable in the Force, and Kronos took that chance without a moment's hesitation. As Ike aimed a killing blow to her stomach, Kronos directed a powerful Force Push that wouldsend Ike careening into a wall. He hoped Ike would let go of Esme's throat as an immediate reaction.

    Caution was out of the window now.

    Ike allowed the push to buffet him, but was surprised by thestrength behind it. He rolled, releasing Esme, and came up with his whip and blaster to hand. A shot was fired at Kronos as he laughed at the man, lashing his whip out to get some traction behind it.

    ‘So there is fire in your gut, Kronos! I thought you were a fluffykitten now!’

    He was already moving to avoid the inevitable deflected shot, pushing off the floor towards the opposite wall to Esme, andthen pushing off that, spinning to lash the whip at Kronos’ throat.

    Kronos dodged the whip lash just in time, narrowly avoiding it by rolling out of the way and causing Ike to swing at nothing.When his whip struck the floor, dozens of sparks emanated from the area. A noticeable burn mark remained.

    "I have my moments!" he retorted. His tone lacked any humor.

    Stumbling as he regained his composure, Kronos tugged at Ike's legs with the Force in an attempt to topple him over before aiming a powerful slash at Ike's neck, intending oncutting his head clean off.

    Ike felt the tug to the back of his feet and allowed himself amoment of surprise. He tipped, and Kronos launched forward. Ike allowed himself a panicked Force pull backwards onhimself, coming back up and flinging both his hands forward,having dropped his whip in the tumble.

    From his hands emerged a twin stream of lightning, and Ike laughed. ‘I’m not the one who left his pregnant girl wandering around during a coup!’

    Esmerelda’s ears could not believe it. A coup!? She shouted at Kronos, hesitantly aiming her own pistol into the melee. ‘Whatdid Insipid tell you to do?’

    The blade strike missed, and Kronos was forced to defendhimself from a sudden strike of Force Lightning. The light, crackling blue bounced off of his crimson red blade in random directions.

    Ike taunted Kronos, and Kronos shot Esme a look of utter disbelief. Esme? Pregnant? He staggered back as soon as Ike ceased his assault, allowing him a moment of respite.

    It was at this moment when a memory was triggered. Something highly repressed. Forgotten. Upon a fiery landscape, encountering someone he once considered a friend. Using his love for someone against him.



    Ike was lying. It was just a ruse created to distract him.

    "He told me to kill Haretisch," he replied to Esme as he circled Ike, swinging his blade while absently noticing Esme pointing her blaster into the fight. "I refused."

    He aimed a powerful two-handed strike toward Ike's waist.

    Esmerelda’s eyes widened. For two reasons, firstly - that Kronos did not react to the pregnancy, but she was too shocked by the latter reason to rhyme that he simply would not have believed Ike.

    Her voice raised an octave. ‘You refused a direct order from Insipid?’ Esme felt the blood draining from her face and her stomach curdling with icy fear. ‘Are you insane?’

    Ike snickered. ‘Yeah, Kronos, are you insane?’ He lifted his hands again, focused them on Kronos’s weapon, holding it firm with a stream of lightsaber, careful to keep it so the anglewould be difficult to reflect back at him.

    Esme’s blaster drifted. Had Kronos done the unthinkable? She tallied up her nausea, the flushes, all things she had attributed to the anxiety of waiting for Insipid to drop the other foot on them for leaving for their tryst.

    And now Kronos had refused an order to kill the man she hated more than anyone in the galaxy? She was almost speechless, all she could do was hold her hand up to stop Cassian speaking until she could digest the information.

    Ike eyed her, the corner of his mouth dropping. ‘Sorry, sister. Iwouldn’t have wished a sorry coward for the father of my child, either.’ Ike strained a bit, but kept his voice cheery. ‘Can wewrap this up? I’ll be on the bridge with Bellorum shortly...’

    Esme could see her choices narrowing. Haretisch she hated; Insipid, Kronos has just abandoned; Ike, he was allied with Bellorum now... where could she turn?

    Where could Kronos turn? She stood from the floor where Ike had thrown her.

    ’What have you done, Cassian?’

    Kronos noticeably cringed when Esme used his true name in front of Ike. His eyes were scrunched shut and his guard was let down. A sudden lightning strike from Ike caught Kronos in his mentally fractured state.

    He absently noted that Esme never denied her pregnancy. Her face simply read shock. Maybe it was due to his refusal of Insipid's orders. Maybe it was from the stress of something unknown. He couldn't be sure. And he knew he had to.

    He, still defending himself from Ike's blasts, which he had been doing in contemplative silence for no longer than a minute, absently looked within the Force to search for lifeforms. His main attention was still turned upon the situation at hand.

    He felt...





    A fourth.

    Someone who was still developing.

    It was true.

    He gave Esme a look of both surprise and fear, absentlydeflecting Ike's attacks.

    What had he done?

    The full consequences of his actions hit him like a block of cement. Refusing to follow Insipid's orders was not a smart decision. Ravenous, if he survived (and now Kronos was desperately hoping Haretisch killed him), would most definitely inform Insipid of what Kronos did, and there would be noforgiveness this time. Punishments would be handed out. But he was certain it would not befall upon him. It would instead go to Esme.

    He had no more ties. In Insipid's mind, Kronos had betrayed him. That was gone. Haretisch was a repugnant swine who wouldn't trust Kronos if his life depended on it. That never existed. And Bellorum was friendly with Ike. That was too complicated. No matter who won, he - they - lost.

    He swung his lightsaber sharply and threw off Ike's lightning bolts before standing in the eerie silence, glaring down at the floor while making multiple small, shaky breaths.

    He then turned his attention to Ike, and anger and rage consumed him at that moment. His trip tightened around his blade's handle. He had no reply. Even for Esme, he had no reply. He was simply too focused on his rage toward Ike.

    Maybe Insipid would be forgiving if he killed Ike. It was possible...

    Taking Esme and running away to raise their child without the worries of death and betrayal was also a strong possibility. But, after this, would she even agree? His insecurities caused his uncertainties.

    He neared his way toward Ike, quickening his pace, raising his lightsaber to poise himself to vertically slice the wretched man in half.

    Esme had a moment where she knew that this was the evolution point. Was she pregnant? Kronos had not denied it, and his face went through that motion which Esme recognised, though Ike would likely not.

    Kronos’s eyes widened slightly, and had his surprise not buffeted Ike enough to cause a shiver, Esme would have known.

    It was true.

    And Kronos had thrown everything away. Ike eyed her, almost looking sympathetic to her even as he used lightning. Esme looked from Ike to Kronos. Something was bubbling up within her; was it her new found motherhood? She felt a sudden wave of protectiveness fill her. Ike was backing away from Kronos, putting their confrontation at angles to her, with herself becoming a triangle in relation to them.

    Tactically, she could never turn to Haretisch, and now, Kronos would be barred by Insipid. Similarly, Ike and her, they had too much bad blood... or did they? Bellorum was a matriarch - she would be more sympathetic to her being a mother... for all Esmerelda knew, Insipid would experiment on her child.

    Her child.

    Esme winced.

    Our child.

    However... she needed to do what was best for the child, and arguably best for her. Kronos’ decision to abandon his mission had isolated; had placed them in incredible danger.

    They could go on the run, but there was one thing that Insipid, Haretisch and Bellorum would agree upon; traitors to the Empire were to be hunted. A civil war was tradition for Sith Order - she knew their seven millennia long history. But turning away from the Sith? They would hunt them, with a negligible amount of their resources.

    Esme and Kronos would die, perhaps even before the child reached term. But they’d die together. These thoughts and many more settled within her mind.

    But Kronos had made a decision without her.

    So, she had to make a decision without him.

    Kronos threw himself at Ike, a slash that was all force and violence, and Esme raised her blaster to shoot at his back. A stun shot, but a shot nonetheless.

    If she built a bridge to Bellorum’s faction, she could bring Kronos back with her.


    Kronos was right there, feet away from Ike, ready to cut him to pieces, but something from behind had surprised him. In the split second when it happened, Kronos did not have a chance to figure out what it was or who caused it. But there was a sharp sting when it made impact. He felt that much.

    He fell to the ground almost immediately as he lost all concept of special awareness. His lightsaber rolled from his hand and onto the steel flooring. It continued to roll in Esme's direction.

    Everything was black for Kronos.

    Esme was crying. It was... was necessary. Wasn’t it? Had she done wrong? Had she done right?

    She felt a twist; the blaster turned to kill; her fingers began to squeeze of their own accord. Esme snarled at Ike. ‘No!’

    Ike paused, sheepish. ‘Are you sure? He’s condemned you.’

    ‘No, he hasn’t,’ said Esme, putting the blaster into her holster. ‘Kronos condemned himself.’

    She was shaking. Part of her mind was working through the motions. ‘He couldn’t equate being in love with being a Sith.’ Esme started, surprised.

    Ike looked sad. ‘Sith never can. Attachments, lust, carnal desire. We excel at them. Love? That purist of emotions? Without the negative? We don’t pull it off. We try to, but creating a selfish worldview around a pair, or a family... it’s too difficult. Not unless someone makes themselves subservient... or someone is made so.’

    Esme knew of examples, ones her intellect had abandoned in her pursuit of love and family. Malgus and his love; Maul and Savage; Vader and Padme; Gavar Khai and his wife; Caedus and Veila; Ben and Vestara. All relationships poisoned by the Force. By the dark side.

    She placed her hand on her stomach, simply looked at Kronos’ form. He would regain consciousness soon enough, and she had to answer Ike.

    ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You’re right. I was always going to be subservient to him. Kronos after out of love for me, but he made decisions for me. I can see that now. He decided we would work out. He decided we would go away. He decided to turn away from Insipid and strand us among the Sith.’

    Ike reflected that he had wasted a lot of energy hating Esme. He strapped his whip to his waist, and held his hand out. ‘Shall we go? Lady Bellorum will have you.’

    Esme nodded, took his hand. ‘She’ll have to.’

    A smirk crossed Ike’s lips. And they left, Ike lending the Force to their feet. Time was running out.

    A few minutes later, Kronos woke. Esme’s absence would be apparent, as would Ike’s. So, too, would be Insipid’s rage, screaming at him.

    Insipid had been told.

    It was not just love and family relationships that required an alpha and beta to the Sith. It was any connection and interaction. Kronos had severed one, but it flailed, detached, not gone. Similarly, he had a severed connection, one he had not acted upon, fluttering away from him.

    He was, briefly, isolated.

    Now what?

    Kronos's eyes blinked open, and he instantly felt alone. Ike and Esme were gone, and the hot, unbridled rage of Insipid was extremely apparent. Being worried, he reached out through the Force to feel for Esme's presence, and it confirmed that she was indeed alive. But... something was amiss. Ike was with her. And neither was showing and malice toward each other.

    The ties with Insipid were gone. He knew this. But Kronos no longer felt that special connection with Esme. Where there was once warmth, cold remained.

    Right? Was he reading that correctly?

    He couldn't be sure.

    Maybe it was him refusing to accept the truth.

    But if it was true...

    He stood up and allowed himself to calm down a smidge. It was because of his stress, anxiety, and paranoia that he made all of those irrational decisions. Esme was not currently in danger. Insipid's rage was focused on him. That meant it was unwise to rush into things. Yet, he knew doing nothing would result in something terrible. Esme was a weakening connection. He could no longer feel her reciprocation of his love that he felt before.

    Was... was Typhojem right all along?

    He needed to find out. Kronos made his way toward Ike and Esme's last known location. He wanted - nay, needed -- to make things right with her.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth
  22. E. L.Knight

    E. L.Knight Jedi Master star 3

    Dec 4, 2012
    Captain Finis and Morrigan
    The Luxury Elite

    Captain Finis moved swiftly among the ship with his men. Hades had made it very clear he wanted anyone who refused to bow to Empress Bellorum to be executed.

    He had started to also move people away from the lines of fire.

    As he turned the corner he saw a huge Karkoden with several Luxury Elite Security Guards fighting against Imperial troopers.

    Finis aimed at both groups.


    This did not work, and, in fact, created an opposite reaction.

    The Imperial Stormtroopers turned and fired on Finis and his men, but the skirmish lasted no more than a few seconds.

    The Karkoden helped mow down the Stormtroopers, but held his men and their fire back against Finis.

    Then he spoke.

    You with the Imperials? The Karkoden snarled, his teeth shining in the harsh light of the corridor, his muscles bulged and strained as his blaster was leveled at Captain Finis.

    I serve Empress Bellorum."

    "Sith!" He roared the word with such hatred. He then rushes at Finis and his men. A bloody battle ensued.

    "No Mercy!"​


    Morrigan had escaped the Luxury Elite before all he'll break loose.

    She'd been sent to retrieve something Hades had purchased as a gift to himself and for Lady Bellorum.

    She sat in the cantina and watched as the Twi'lek girls danced and the band played it's music.

    The contact was meant to meet her within the next 5 minutes.

    The server brought her another Coruscant Sun. She sipped the bright yellow alcholic beverage and watched as a man in a crisp silk suit entered.

    "Hello. Are you Morrigan?"

    She nodded and motioned for him to sit.

    "You have my masters property?"

    "You know I do. My clients are always well served. You have my money?"

    She slid a preloaded credit chip with several million credits loaded on it across the table.

    "There is more than your asking price on that. A retainer of sorts."

    He smiled as he took the chip and rose from his seat.

    "Tell your Master I look forward to future business."

    He walked back the way he came. Morrigan rose and disappeared into crowded streets.
    TAG: None.

  23. dragonsith13

    dragonsith13 Jedi Grand Master star 4

    Apr 3, 2005
    The Luxury Elite - Main Bridge

    ‘Primary Firewall – access denied’, was the output of the terminal VPO stood, on the bridge of the Luxury Elite. VPO’s gaze figuratively narrowed, while obsessively due to the highly durable metal composite casings remained unchanged, though mentally his eyes narrowed. Frustrated after 17 million nine hundred forty-two thousand three hundred and seventeen tries!

    This was taking forever the modified protocol droid processed after seven long minutes of calculations.

    The bridge was a filled with activity, proclamations and pronouncements of intent and orders to be obeyed and fulfilled flew across the comms of the ship. Two communication officers were pulled from their stations. “You believe these lies? You believe me to be a fool that wouldn’t have just taken the dick ship for my own if I wanted it?” The incessant voice of his Mistress yelled, filling the breath of the bridge with her voice and commanding tone.

    ‘Primary firewall - Access granted.’ Finally! After 18 million one hundred fifty-four thousand seven hundred and thirteen times.

    Main systems and control began to flood to VPO, as he began to move unfettered throughout the Luxury Elite systems.

    All of the main systems came up, while a number of secondary systems populated for him to view and delve into.

    · Weapons

    · Shield

    · Comms

    · Primary and secondary Generators

    · Network and system controls

    · Alarms

    · Engineering

    · Sanitation

    For a moment he thought what horrible things he could do to make them suffer with disabling any number of such. Sentients. Primitives. He scoffed. Then finally. Main reactor and self-destruct controls. It was about time.

    The sub protocols and commands quickly came up. As he began to compile the necessary compute time and execution necessary.

    VPO’s integrated interface tool remained connected as the console he was at brought up and ran command after command that he desired.

    VPO continued to recognize the voice of the individual members of the Triumvirate that came over the comm system. Lady Bellorum in particular as she continued to pronounce her rule from the bridge.

    ‘Will this never end? VPO spoke to himself while compiling and calculating. “Drop your weapons and I shall allow you to live.” ‘What now!?!’ VPO muttered to himself at the words from the Mistress, if they would just shut their useless Oral cavities for just one parsec and let him finish!!! His protocol and processing as hardened as it was trying its best to ignore the drama unfolding between the kings and queens of the Sith. Drama. Drama. Drama. The conversation of ‘her ship’ and ‘surrender’ continued to unfold on the bridge.

    Threat assessment low. VPOs sensors picked up the intruders even before they had entered the bridge, while he payed little attention to them. Primary weapons were brought online, though before either one of the threats could present themselves substantially, the Mistress had quelled any attempts to disrupt the bridge. Could they just leave him to his business already? This whole situation would soon be in check. Just a few more moments.

    As one of the intruders was forced back, rebutted after his failed attempt to take control of the bridge. The second was kept in stasis the power of the Mistress no doubt rendering him unable to move or function.

    Compiling of data was almost complete as VPO’s processors continued to work. The command sequence had loaded into the terminal of the Star Destroyer that VPO stood at. One of the intruders spat back an insult directed at the Mistress, kill him already well it would not really matter in a few more seconds.

    Everything had compiled, and the program had loaded with the cursor blinking at the console in front of VPO. A readout of the command he had just loaded after breaking through the main and all secondary firewalls. He now had full control.

    ‘Ship Self-destruct sequence and main reactor purge. Execute? Y/N?’

    VPO hit the button on the console selecting ‘Y’.

    The console beeped and outputted another line on the screen.

    Are you sure you want to execute ship self-destruct and main reactor purge? Y/N?

    VPO again hit the console selecting ‘Y’

    The console beeped again and outputted one more line.

    ‘Initiating self-destruct will complete irreversible destruction of ship. Continue with sequence? Y/N?’

    ‘What sentient slack-jawed- blind-steering-twit programmed this ship?’

    VPO began to reach and finally execute the sequence. When he heard the dagger like voice of the Mistress commanding him to handle the remaining intruder still on the bridge. VPO’s finger stopped just above the console poised to execute the command.

    ‘Curses! The Mistress’s simple command overrode his current executing operation, he was compelled to obey and stop what he was doing. Stop initiated the self-destruct. VPO’s portions of an emotional protocol suite loaded,

    Disappointment and regret.

    For not having been able to complete the processing operation. VPO turned and made his way over to one of the intruders still held still. VPOs databanks identified the intruder as one of the Sith Apprentices ‘Titus’.

    Quickly a concoction of chemicals loaded into a syringe that protruded from a hidden slot in one of VPOs fingers. VPO quickly stuck and emptied its contents into the Sith Apprentice. The mix of sedatives, muscle relaxers, and hallucinogens quickly began to work as the Apprentices was released from the control of the Mistress falling next to a medical capsule that VPO had silently summoned the moment he had been tasked to deal with the Apprentices by the Mistress.

    ‘Loaded him into the capsule.’ VPO spat at two medical personnel that had arrived with the capsule. The Apprentice was near limp as his eyes rolled back into his head, mouth open and tongue drooping to one side.

    The Mistress was too busy escorting the trash off of her ship, thus VPO was relegated to resolving the issue with this Sith Apprentice. When he had things to do! All this interrupting the important issues and procedures that needed to be done.

    With the Apprentice loaded and ready for transport. First stop was the medical freezing facility, or maybe he would redirect himself to one of the trash suits and just dispose of this one as well.

    @Lady Belligerent
    Last edited: Apr 28, 2018
  24. E. L.Knight

    E. L.Knight Jedi Master star 3

    Dec 4, 2012
    Darth Hades & God-Emperor Insipid
    Arena, The Luxury Elite

    Hades wasted no time finding Insipid. His bellow through the Force was a beacon of pure power.

    Hades could feel the power of Insipid, but he wasn't afraid.

    Powers greater than Insipid had destroyed Hades before, and yet, here he was.

    He leapt from the upper ledge of the arena and landed meters from the former god emperor.

    "You truly don't see you are at the end, do you? You've lived too long and grown complacent.. I knew you when you were nothing.

    "So many of you have forgotten. I was a Sith before you. And now, I am taking what's mine."

    Hades didn't hesitate, dashing forward. He swung his lightsaber held in his hand in an arc from the lower right to the high left. As he did that he stabbed under his swing with the lightsaber in his left.

    A double blade user... Insipid growled to himself, feeling both the power filling him and the wounds aching across his body. Hades was a Sith that had been a member of the New Sith Order before the first civil war - a smirk, as the civil war was now the first one - and before Insipid had infiltrated the other two remnants; the Dominion of Darkness and Acolytes of Darkness. In-fact Hades had been absent at the time Krayt arrived on Korriban and rejuvenated the order there as the One Sith.

    Insipid had often wandered how he stacked up to those old Sith. Draconis, Haretisch, Vassago, Hades, Nemesis. Against Haretisch he had not triumphed, and now he was against another in the same day. The God-Emperor come Supreme Leader narrowed his eyes - he had no plan, no preparation. He had barely interacted with Hades. His mind rushed through recent events; the man had kept to himself, but vanished during the battle of Moraband, before reappearing on Mortis from -

    Oh, yes.

    Hades went for a sweep and a stab combination, and Insipid allowed himself to step backwards, keeping his blade off. The sweep he avoided, the stab, he took a side step, before raising two fingers and pushing with the Force at the side of the blade tip. By striking at the furthest point from Hades’ control, he could push the attack the farthest out of line. Of course, that did nothing for the other blade...

    Darth Insipid ignited his silver sabre and dove forward, cutting down, two-handed, for where Hades shoulder had been, keeping his blow and feet light, with the attention to pushing off his feet and rebounding off the arena edges as necessary.

    He had a plan now, at least.

    And what a plan.

    Hades had expected Insipid to be a challenge, even injured he was powerful, but it wasn't power that Hades realized he needed.

    Insipid nimbly evolved his slash, as was expected, but the Force Push to shift his blade, that was not expected.

    Even now, Hades was still learning, which would be a mistake. Insipid was only showing Hades new ways to defeat him.

    Insipid forced his blade away and Hades, rather than fight the push, went with it.

    Insipid then came at him full speed head and, after igniting his saber brought it down in a chop.

    Hades could tell Insipid was remaining nimble, a key part of Ataru. Hades, too, was an Ataru user, so this may become an interesting test of both combatants prowess.

    Hades twisted as the silver blade crashed down in front of him. Hades twisted his right hand and pointed his blade downward then pushing it forward to intercept Insipids blade.

    Hades then kicked his leg forward in a sweep to force Insipid to move, keeping the saber in his left hand free.

    Insipid's blade met Hades' and he did go to dodge the sweeping leg, but his knee betrayed him and Insipid went down, tugging himself with the Force backwards and rolling away, a hand shoved backwards to forestall a follow-up attack. He was back on his feet in a moment, snarling and demanding more from the Force - none of his servants and allies seemed to be providing him with anything of note. Titus was completely unaccessible - dead, or unconscious?

    He shoved aside the thought process. Hades was too dangerous. But also weak. Insipid took what Force he could gather and drove a mental attack into his mind - if successful, Insipid would be replaced with an illusion of Abeloth, and Insipid would likely see his foe collapse into a mass of shrieks as his invisible tentacles flung themselves at Hades. Hades had died to Abeloth, and been tortured for days within her form, before she died and his body was restored to him. But Insipid was willing to place a massive bet that Hades had not recovered from every one of his psychological wounds.

    Ravenous, Manticore, Persevus, Hesper, Titus... none of them had deal with the trauma of the Battles of Moraband and Mortis, and so Insipid would push hard with this.

    Hades was not surprised when the former "god" met his saber and though his leg sweep took Insipid down the Dark Lord easily used the force to evade more damage.

    What happened next, was not what Hades had expected. Pain flared behind his eyes and in his brain, causing him to close his eyes. As he opened them, the entire arena had changed.

    Abeloth stood before him in all her mighty fury. Tentacles seemed to writhe everywhere. Fear sparked across Hades mind, but it lasted only a moment.

    He had started to deal with his fears concerning Abeloth, and had someone asked him before this moment, he would have sworn he was over it. He was wrong.

    Hades looked on the form of Abeloth and reacted, as he had feared he would, not with fear, but pure unbridled rage.

    He roared with fury as he called on the Force and showered the arena with Lightning.

    Insipid had not expected Hades to react with such an outpouring of fear, curdled into rage, and Insipid ended up making himself small, dropping to a knee to minimise his presence.

    Lightning exploded outwards, piercing illusionary tentacles and having no effect, but also bursting into the stands, the ceiling, the floor, ripping into the bulkheads and setting alight the chairs. Insipid squeezed his eyes shut against the pyrotechnics as light fittings burst into sparks and showered them with glass, Insipid grimacing.

    This was intense.

    He needed to push Hades further, break him, but Insipid was at a loss as to how to twist the knife. His Abeloth illusion, of course unaffected by the attacks, strode forward, her grin broadening, and tentacles writhing in anticipation. All Insipid could hope was that when she closed the distance, Hades’ mind snapped, and he collapsed.

    But then Ravenous comlinked him. The message was announced, the communicator active in anticipation of the report of Haretisch’s demise. It was instead Insipid’s mind that grew distracted; Kronos had betrayed him, and Ravenous had failed!?

    Insipid, in his horror, in his pained state, in his shock, lost control of his illusion and Abeloth faded away, leaving Darth Insipid gesturing at Hades - obviously the source of the mental attack.

    Hades watched as his lightning did nothing. It couldn't be. Hades knew that Insipid had taken the power of Typhojem upon himself, but had he taken Abeloth as well? Could this be a manifestation of that power? Could he release them in their forms at will to reek havoc upon this galaxy?

    Hades felt that stab of immobilizing fear and was nearly overcome, his lightning failed and faded.

    Then, the illusion failed and there was Insipid, the obvious source of the illusion.

    Hades hatred towards Insipid bloomed even further and he held onto it and aimed it right at the object of his hate.

    He called on flames and directed them to immolate the former Emperor.

    Insipid was exhausted; drained. He’d used all but everything he had left in this fight. Hades had not snapped; he’d rallied, furious that Insipid had violated his mind.

    The God-Emperor raised his hands and erected a decidedly feeble defence, managing to hold the heart of the attack but the rest skipped burns up his arms, across his skull, set alight his clothes.

    He was finished.

    With a scream, Insipid snarled, yanking at the connection he had with his kin one last time; he broke the connection to Kwea, to Cocytus, to his surviving allies. ‘No!’

    The flames exploded away from him and Insipid alighted, his two hands unleashing a veritable storm of lightning from his hands. His skin was pulled taut as he tugged at his own lifeforce, blood dribbling out of his mouth, but he went for broke.

    This was it.

    He had one or maybe two moves in him left.

    Insipid needed space.


    Hades watched with glee as the fire burnt hit and consumed the former Emperor, but it did not last.

    Some flames held on, but he drew on his ebbing strength and unleashed a bolt of lightning, it's power horrific.

    Hades leapt away towards the arena wall but was too slow and took the blast to his right side.

    It smashed into his armor and left a dent, scorch marks and a finger sized hole. He felt it penetrate his skin and he smashed into the wall heavily.

    So the Dark Lord still had some power left.

    Hades pulled himself to his feet and did what he did best. He leapt forward, the Force carrying him across the small distance. He had both lightsabers ignited as he landed behind the weakening Insipid.

    He stabbed forward, one blade aimed for Insipids black heart, the other aimed for his throat.

    Insipid only needed a moment, and he had one. Directing his hands down, he blew a hole through the floor and fell down into it - such was his exhaustion.

    This was not before Hades thrust out - one blade towards where his heart had been, another to where his throat had been; the first blade skittered up the side of his head, severing part of his jaw, but the other, it carved a haggard line up his face as he dropped, a cut that ran up his face, between his nose and up his forehead -

    - Insipid screamed, and then was gone, leaving not just his ordinarily silver-bladed lightsaber behind, and, curiously, a small pyramidal Holocron, which bounced loudly to the floor, as all things made of glass-like material would.

    Insipid reached up with what he had left of the Force, and drew downwards; what was intended to seal the hole that was not above him did not just that but tugged at the weakened ceiling; yanking much of the roof with it and carving a rent right up to the top of the hull; a void began to tug at Hades, silencing the flames that had been merrily carving up the arena, but a great deal of debris was released from the ground, but, unshaped, it would not so much plug the hole as batter the roof further, widening the gap unless effort was exerted to secure the damage.

    Hades was surprised when Insipid blew a hole in the floor of the arena, but not before his lightsabers inflicted bodily harm that should sufficiently end his life.

    As he fell through the floor, Hades felt him pull the debris of the arena to try to plug the hole.

    Hades called the lightsaber and Holocron to his hands after securing his own.

    Once secure, Hades moved quickly to clear the debris field. It was difficult, but soon Hades was at the door to the arena.

    "Control," he said through his comm, "Seal off the arena. It's unstable and their may be the potential for a hull breach. Decompress the entire arena as well."

    Hades them commed Empress Bellorum.

    "My Empress. Insipid is gone. I doubt he will survive his wounds."
    @Lady Belligerent , @Sinrebirth, @Everyone else
  25. Dagobahsystem

    Dagobahsystem Force Ghost star 6

    Sep 25, 2015
    Combo with Sinrebirth and Darth Cocytus

    IC: Cocytus, Saadi, Insipid
    The Luxury Elite

    Darth Cocytus followed Insipid without hesitation, jumping the into the hole created by the emperor. Whether Insipid truly was his master had yet to be seen by the kaminoan. He hopes to truly be the one to carry on the mantel that will ensure the survival of the Sith. However, all that could be focused on now is fighting in order to live to see the truth.

    Feeling a tug in the force that could only be melding Darth Cocytus continued following, cutting down any who was in his way. However, they eventually came across Saadi, whom the kaminoan quickly made note to kill once all was said and done. First, however, there were enemies to fight. As the enemy guard made their way, Cocyutus ignited his blades. As they got closer, he raised a hand forward and unleashed a surge of Sith lightning upon his foes.

    The added weight of his newly acquired beskad felt good and was invigorating to his sense of self worth, Darth Saadi mused as he slowed his pace, resting a moment to consider his options further. He reached out with the dark side of the Force. Sensing. For him. The pull of the dark side was strong with the Clawdite, giving him great focus. However, an elusive veil seemed to preclude a stronger connection with his master. If anything, their connection seemed to be getting weaker which was worrisome.

    Initially taken aback, Saadi realized this was by Insipid's own design and was as he wished. So be it.

    The changeling removed his blaster, checking it over briefly. Then felt quickly into his various pockets and over and around his belt, verifying the location and functionality of each and every last weapon he still possessed. Oh good, he still had them with him and they were alive and hungry!
    He smiled as he glanced briefly at his new beskad, safely holstered. All of this took less than half a minute as he sensed the approach of two Sith, one of whom he knew.

    Turning round, Saadi glanced at his master approaching with his Sith companion. Sensing something afoot, he did not speak, nor dare move a muscle as the dark lord of the Sith made cursory introductions and then proceeded about his own plans, leaving his apprentice with Cocytus.

    Saadi ignored him, for now, as he heard several loud footsteps approaching. The changeling stood his ground and used the Force to call his lightsaber to his left hand.

    The lighting trickled off the soldiers armour, sparking off the bulkheads, but not arresting their charge. There were more than a dozen of them - at least those they could see, anyway. The first four soldiers stopped swiftly, raised their blaster rifles, and fired - not energy bolts, but metal bullet, which could not be reflected. Shoving between them came three more soldiers, with lighter armour but blades with energy coruscating around them. While two soldiers a piece fired at Cocytus and Saadi to keep them off balance, two of the three soldiers reached the Kaminoan and cut at his neck from two directions, while the third shoved forward to stab through Saadi unless he blocked well -

    - but both of them would find their lightsabers would struggle both with the armour and the energy weapons; a resonance ran through them which would make their arms ache and in-close proximity their ability to concentrate would be interfered with.

    Darth Cocytus’s eyes narrowed as his lightning attack did little damage at all. Taking deep, hateful breaths, he clenched his fists around his ignited lightsabers and got into a defensive pose. Using the force to move quickly out of the way, the Kaminoan made an effort to dodge the fired metal bullets he sensed. However, Cocytus now suddenly found two soldiers making a take at his neck, and swung his blades in soresu fashion to swat them back. Something told him that this fight was going to more than he expected it to be.

    That was eventually proven true as Cocytus fought off the soldiers. He found his lightsaber struggling against his foes along with aches of pain. Not to mention the difficulty to concentrate the Kaminoan was beginning to have. What was going on?

    Darth Cocytus’s eyes widened with fear that mixed with his hatred. He refused to lose to these weaklings. Calling upon the full power of the Dark Side of the Force to give him strength, he got into a frenzy, swinging his blades to bring down his enemies with swift and final strikes.

    Seeing a dozen or more approaching, it took only one actual bullet whizzing past his right ear for Saadi to sheathe his saber and take cover behind a pillar.
    Rolling his eyes, the changeling lobbed a mild explosive just behind those firing upon he and Cocytus, then drew his newly acquired beskad and advanced, meeting this one opponent head on.
    Blocking the others half hearted strike, Saadi pushed forward, leveraging him downwards, while angling his weapon to and fro, disabling balance from multiple vectors, looking for the core kill strike, meanwhile sensing something slightly amiss with his limbs.
    What was this new devilry? Had maze wounds and dehydration returned or what was it indeed?

    While Cocytus bore the brunt of the assault, his blows being blocked and with each riposte his opponents opening a cut on his neck - not a dangerous strike, but two sizeable nicks with blades - Saadi pulled back and threw the grenade in. That distracted the rear enough for Cocytus' attack to kill two soldiers before him, as Saadi struggled with his single foe.

    These were troublesome foes; Cocytus, however, was the most free foe, and so the gun wielding soldiers adjusted to focus on him alone - that required a second or two adjustment,and that was all the space Cocytus would have.

    As for Saadi, his foe would hold his own long enough that Cocytus was on his own, but the resonance caused Saadi's strikes to slow sufficiently that when the core opening occurred, his foe had space to cleave down with a two handed blow, right for the changelings head - and the reversal of the weapon to enable the attack was a gap even smaller than the one Cocytus had to use.

    Between the two of them, they were on the edge, but they could respond and make a difference - or die.

    Darth Cocytus groaned in pain as he felt the cuts at his neck from his foes’ blades. He took in the pain, though, adding it to his anger, hate and fear. Still, the kaminoan found himself forced crane his neck away from the blades to avoid a lethal cut. Cocytus brought a blade close to swat the blades away as well.

    The Sith Lord was getting fed up with these imbeciles and wanted to end this quickly. In a short opening made, Cocytus jumped over the soldiers, blocking their attacks with his blades. Landing on his feet, the kaminoan brought his blades close to his body. Swiftly stretching out with the force with his arm, Cocytus grabbed hold of the soldiers’, strangling them by the neck with the power of the Force.

    His disgust was palpable.
    Insidious forces had manifested once again. The beskad now seemed to weigh as much as a fully grown wookiee in his right hand. And the distractions- thoughts of Coruscant and past traumas inhibited his ability to concentrate. Drawing upon his knowledge of non lethal Force drain, Saadi attempted to counteract the bizarre resonance plaguing his mind and body. Somehow finding the power to concentrate, the clawdite drew upon the power of the dark side.

    Straining against the enveloping force, Saadi parried, bellowing as he activated his blade with his other hand, which he pointed straight ahead, skewering his opponent through the abdomen.

    With two soldiers choking, and one bisected neatly, the moment shattered swiftly. The enemy ranks broke, but one sole survivor held his ground out of misguided loyalty. The resonance was insufficient to distract two, and so he drew a grenade from his belt and thumbed it, hurling himself forward at the two of them.

    Crimson eyes glaring wildly in a rage, the Clawdite's flesh burned as he saw another enemy approaching dangerously fast, while carrying an explosive. The thing was desperate. Swiftly sheathing his saber, Saadi summoned all of his power and knowledge of the dark side, and lurching forward in a violent spasm, almost to a knee, Force pushed the suicidal sycophant backwards down the corridor. Stepping back and to the left, taking cover behind the few inches of a doorway arch, Saadi looked at Cocytus, his eyes nearly boiling out of his skull in hatred.

    The roof burst downwards, showering the corridor behind them with debris. A body crashed into it; Insipid’s. His face had lost half a jaw, an ear, and an angry red lightsaber gash now ran up his face; his clothes were cindering, in some places still smoking, with shiny skin showing where burn medallions had been carved into his flesh.

    He flicked his fingers, screaming, and drew the hole in the roof closed.

    At the other end of the corridor, the suicidal attacker flew back into the second wave of his colleagues, and exploded. A wave of heat and shrapnel would flow down the corridor at them.

    Insipid drew his shields back, rolling off the heap and coming up on one knee. ‘Darth Kronos has betrayed us; Haretisch lives. More of Bellorum’s special forces are coming; Darth Hades will pursue us.’ Insipid took a snarling breath. ‘Come, my apprentice.’ Insipid did not detail which of them he was speaking to, be it Cocytus or Saadi, as he stood. He lifted a hand, indicating the bulkhead that had to be blown apart for them to retreat to the hangar, to Kwea, who should be holding it.

    ‘It is time to go.’

    Darth Cocytus smirked thinly as each one of his foes finally fell, ending this exhausting fight. His eyes glowed coldly as he fed on their suffering till they each died. The eyes narrowed, however, as one of them gone completely mad, charging at him like a complete fool. The kaminoan called upon the force and together with Saadi sent the fool flying down the corridor where he exploded, killing the rest of the soldiers. Cocytus them turned to Saadi and stared back at him with cold glowing eyes like candles in empty skull sockets.

    The kaminoan's attention, however, was them caught by the appearance of his master, Insipid. He stared at his injuries that looked so mauled and torn to shreds. He had a thought of helping the emperor if only to gain his trust, but Insipid still seemed to be able to take care of himself. Cocytus nodded at his calling though. There was still work to be done to save the Sith Order.

    Taking a glance at Saadi, he made his way towards Insipid's direction. Something had to be done about the other Sith Lord. There can only be two. A master and an apprentice. Looking in the future though, there were still too many variables for him to do anything... rash. Something will happen, though, and Cocytus took preparations for all possibilities. For the time being, the traitors of the Sith Order, must be wiped out swiftly and brutally....

    Saadi's attention was immediately drawn to a cacophonous crash as he looked to behold Insipid rise, his several injuries obvious to see. Hearing him scream, Saadi could feel the dark lord's rage; so the changeling listened carefully as Insipid spoke and proceeded to follow him, steeling his mind and body for what lay ahead.

    Tags: @Sinrebirth @Darth Cocytus
    Last edited: Apr 30, 2018
Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.