Star Wars New Sith Trials I *Voted Best RPG Summer 2016*

IC: Darth Octavius
Catacombs

Octavius followed the others up the stairs and thought about what would happen next. He swore himself if he would see his father again he wouldn´t be scared anymore. He would give into his anger and face his father instead. When he started to hear a voice he almost immediately realized that the next attack was coming. But this time is was neither his father nor his voice. You disturb my rest. MEDDLING KNAVES. FOOLS: MINDLESS SWINE: Since the Schism I have waited. MURDERED BY JEDI. CORRUPTED BY THE DARKNESS. The voice became louder the longer it spoke and Octavius head started to hurt. The Schism? He was sure it would have something to do with the Jedi and Sith, maybe the time when the first few Jedi left they're order to create the Sith order? Octavius wasn´t sure about it, although he had read many holobooks in his time as a Jedi he had never been interested in the old Jedi and Sith. Maybe he should have been. The voice spoke further and Octavius tried to ignore it. He assumed it wasn´t real just another creation of their unseen enemy. "This is Xendor." His master told them in a disbelieving tone. "His spirit must reside here. But... How? How does he linger after so long." Octavius didn´t knew anything about this Xendor, but he assumed he had been a Sith long time ago, maybe even one of the first in the time they founded themselves. He rolled his eyes, another Sith that had been so afraid of death that he tried to stay in this world. As a Soldier Octavius had seen many cruel deaths on the battlefield and he didn´t feared this fate himself. He knew that he had to die one day but it was okay for him. He asked himself how the other would think about this. But he realized that he had to concentrate on the present if he wanted to avoid death for another while. The group entered a burial chamber, another casket stood at the other side of the room and like the ones they found in the first hall it broke open when they entered. "Force protect us." Octavius muttered and activated his lightsaber. A dark liquid flood outside of the grave and formed itself to a dark figure that barely resembled a human in a dark cloak. I should not be. Help me. ALL I SEE IS AGONY. The voice was even louder than before. Suddenly Haretisch was blown across the room and landed on the ground. Octavius felt how the meld he created broke around him and he tried to shield himself against the cutting of the connection. In the next moment the creature send a force lighting at them. Octavius managed to raise his lightsaber just in time to block the attack. He saw how Kwea came back on her feet and activated her lightsaber to attack Xendor. But he turned to his master who still laid on the floor. He made a few steps forward placed himself before his master shielding him against the lighting.

TAG: @Halle Dray, @Moonspun Dragon, @Darth_wanderguard

 

IC- Darth Arach
Morraban, Inside the Catacombs

"Well then let's go. As soon as we manage the staircase the sooner we can enjoy the fight against an ancient presence that wants to kill us all."

Arach gave Octavious a half- smile. It felt good to be able to share a joke, even if the mood was temporary.

"Death is only the beginning," she heard Haretisch mutter as he climbed the steps.

Arach felt her smile slip as mood turned somber. She remembered the Illness that had destroyed her colony on Rikku. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," she responded, softly.

When the door at the top of the stairs opened, the young master heard Haretisch ask himself a question. "What could possibly exist in this place, to which the Left-Handed Lord could anchor himself?"

Arach shot him a startled, confused look. The Left- Handed Lord? Wasn't that the title she had heard in her mind when her master had become so terrified not too long ago in Lord Insipid's corridor? Who is he? Why be so afraid?

Arach opened her mouth to ask these questions when something intruded in her mind. Reflexively, now, she threw her mental shielding up. This is becoming rather tiresome, she thought, irritably.

The words still got through.

You disturb my rest.

MEDDLING KNAVES. FOOLS. MINDLESS SWINE.

Arach was taken aback by the complete shift in tone of the entity's tone. It was pretty obvious this entity was utterly mentally unstable.

Since the Schism I have waited.

MURDERED BY JEDI. CORRUPTED BY THE DARKNESS.

The Legions of Lettow fell without my guidance. Driven out, hunted, murdered. I was interred here. My spirit consumed by bitterness.

DEATH UPON THE JEDI. DEATH UPON THE LEGIONS. DEATH UPON YOU ALL. FREE ME FROM THIS TORTURE.

Arach couldn't help but wince a little with the increased volume of the entity's final shout. Her gaze shifted to the Dark Lord as he said, ""This is Xendor. His spirit must reside here." His voice became more soft, as if speaking to himself. "But... How? How does he linger after so long?"

Soon, they found yet another casket, which opened upon their arrival. Spilling from it came a substance that resembled ink being poured from its well. If only that's what it was.

When the darkness touched the ground, it started to take on a humanoid form covered in tattered hooded robes. Instead of a face in the cowl, however, was a faint blue light. It struck her as sad. It wanted to be free.

I should not be. Help me.

ALL I SEE IS AGONY.

The empathetic connection she had forged with the creature mostly broke when Haretisch was suddenly thrown back. He hit the wall and seemed to lose consciousness. His presence in the meld becoming a void.

Not wasting any time, the creature shot them with Force Lightning. Kwea, who had been about to check on her master, danced out of range, then back, deflecting e attack on her blade. Octavious had reached his master and was protecting him against the rain of lightning.

Arach threw up a Force Barrier came in the space in between the two apprentices, hoping to give them protection and coverage. At the same moment, she reached for that last thread of empathy that she still had for the entity.

She closed her eyes and focused on touching that part that whispered. That sane part that needed help in the chaotic void of it's mind. Lord Xender, she thought, sending calm and genuine honesty and peace with her hail. We are your brothers. We can help you. Tell us, my lord, what happened? How can we help you?

Tags: Darth_wanderguard, Halle Dray, Anedon

 

IC: Syren (Xia Cass)
Hoth Temple


Running along the far wall, Syren heard the droid’s weapons discharging and knew that the rapid fire was chasing her as she had intended. This lasted but a moment and then the onslaught suddenly ceased. Halting and turning on her heels with her twin lightsabers held out to defend, she saw the male guardian had reappeared. Having done something to get the spider-droid’s attention, it appeared he would pay for doing so with his life when, seemingly out of nowhere, the small Sith flew in and tore into the machine. Syren watched with mild curiosity as sparks flew and metal was severed. It jerked about and then collapsed, dead.

The two lightsaber-wielding droids had also met their ends via means unknown to her and an eerie calm seemed to settle around the room after all the roaring action.

As the fight gave way to stillness, breathing slowed and adrenaline subsided. Deactivating her sabers but keeping the hilts in her hands, she slowly began moving back to where the ruined remains of the smaller droid lay. Confusion and frustration returned to dominate her thoughts just as they had when she first awoke. Now that the rush of the attack had passed all she had was the blankness of her immediate past. I have to know what happened to me here, she thought, eyeing the pods as she passed them. One thing she was sure of was that the mysterious circumstance that had thrust her into the midst of this group was no coincidence. It was her destiny.

Reaching the periphery of the few assembled beings, Syren’s internal struggle was broken when she was addressed directly by the unknown Sith.

“Trained in the dark arts, you have no doubt been," She straightened and took a step towards him as he continued.

"Fought well you have, but trust you, I do not! For the details of how you came to be in stasis, I care not. For what you foolishly sought by coming to this place, I care not. But know this, young one - you stand in the presence of the Sith! I am Darth Kralkus, lieutenant of Night Herald Darth Haretisch. Know that you will not undo our designs! When finished here our business is, accompany us to Korriban, you will. If obedient you are... before the triumvirate, you will go. Rewarded, you will be."

His attention then moved on, not giving her a chance to respond. It did not matter. Their quest here was their business; all she cared about was getting out alive and leaving this cursed place with them.

Turning her gaze to the one she now knew was a bounty hunter, she studied him briefly. Tall with black hair, he reminded her of someone. A face from her past materialized in her mind without warning, one she never dared think about. Squeezing her eyes shut, it vanished as fast as it had appeared.

Ready yourselves, Lord Kralkus had said.

Clipping the lightsaber hilts back on her belt, her hand came up to push back her red hair from her face. Focus and do what is required of you, she thought. Show them you belong. Still standing a bit removed from the others, Syren kept to herself and waited to follow her new companions onto the next challenge.


TAGS: Darth_wanderguard Ktala Darth Kronos Lady Belligerent Sinrebirth

 

IC: Darth Hesper
Battle in the air

Feeling the ship drop out of hyperspace, Hesper left Anark and Tarkana without so much as a second look. Having come close to Coruscant, surely there would be some kind of new mission to tackle. Briskly trotting down the corridor, Hesper returned to her quarters, where she snagged the data pad that had been assigned to her. Orders from Emperor Insipid had just arrived moments before-- they were to begin the attack on Coruscant.

Hesper found herself back in the hanger shortly after, pulling the same helmet from the appropriated TwinTail over her blonde hair. In the hangar, Digrant, Titus, Anark and Tarkana, and Lord Manticore were all similarly gearing up and boarding their respective ships. Manticore directed a firm nod of acknowledgement at Hesper, which Hesper returned along with a detached, steely stare.

Coruscant.

Hesper had not seen the place she had once come to call home since... She didn't allow herself to finish the thought, and vaulted into the TwinTail with ease. Minutes later, all had launched from the hangar and were rushing through the hole they'd blasted in Coruscant's planetary shields, thrusting themselves into the melee of other ships.

Seamlessly, Hesper blended in with the masses of other TwinTails in the air above Coruscant. Hurtling through the battle, dodging this way and that, Hesper anticipated further instruction-- until suddenly, she found herself soaring over her old neighborhood.

Hesper's heart lodged itself in her throat. Images-- Falling, spinning, red blood and flashing lights, searing pain through the gut-- wormed their way into Hesper's consciousness. She tried to blink them away and focus on the battle at hand, but-- A scream. Hesper knew it was her own voice, but whether or not the scream was present or past, she could not tell. Hesper struggled to keep the TwinTail steady, but her hands shook. I can't let this get the best of me now, Hesper thought, tightening her grip on the controls. "There is a time and place for this," Hesper said aloud, to herself, and stowed away the pestering thoughts as best she could. Her voice was tense, almost robotic. She opened a comm channel to the rest of the Sith team.

"What do I need to do?"

TAG: Sinrebirth, greyjedi125, Snokers, Darth Master Titus, dragonsith13

 

IC: Re'van - Fortress of Golg
Somplace Above

Re'van did not turn her head, as she heard screams echoing bellow her. Another set, this time closer to
Re'van, getting close. What did worry hurry was that the Force signatures within Force of the Lorekeeper
and the other Sith, suddenly dissappeared. The Darkside all but screamed in fury at the wave of death and
power that was quickly surging towards them. Still, Re'van did not move. She gave her entire attention to
the Sorceress in front of her. She was also aware of a surge of power happening within her sabers, all at
once. But this, along with the briefest of touches she kept hidden, and push down for now. For the woman
in front of her was speaking.

'The Triumvirs are allying with the Pantheon; the Immortal Gods of the Sith that will make Abeloth look
like a walk in the park. They will make Dreadwar's power appear insectile - they will make Insipid look
infantile - they will make Haretisch beg for forgiveness. The Sorceress spoke of very old and ancient
tomes, hard to come by. And NOT within the temple walls. Well, not within the library at least. She had
seen some reference to such things from her old Master Nemisis books and holocrons. And one other place.
But for now, her attentions were revited upon the Sorceress. 'But the Triumvirate's agents keep crossing
paths with the enemy and destroying the Seals of the Pantheon. There are very few left now - in the
forbidden places across the galaxy.' The woman in front of her paused for a moment, as if hearing
something, and then continued on. 'Ardeur foresaw it, and she shared it with me. Insipid stripped from
her eyes the shadows so he could use her to far see, but she escaped and found me in my exile.' Could
that explain some of the strangeness that Re'van had personally observed of late. And there was one bit
of truth that Re'van had heard of. The Pantheon. Very dangerious. Even more mystery there. But it was the
next thing the woman said, that truly surprised Re'van. The sorceress held out a hand, quivering as the
ground shook around them. 'I need you to join me. You and I know that a galaxy full of cosmic horrors is
one which will burn, and die.' The woman allowed a coil of what she had seen filter across, like a mental
rope, offering. Re'van's eyes narrowed to slits, as the woman offered a joining. Re'van could also feel
her new 'companion', Kalara's grew suspicious as well. There was a reason why Re'van held such things in
dark reguards. She truely knew the dangers of what could happen. And right now, the Sorceress was
dangerious. And threatened. But she was also vunerable. As Re'van knew a a few things, not many did,
because she had been to the Sith Temple before. Things not many beings knew. She also knew, that the
Sorceress could have killed her outright. Not that the Gorog was NOT a challenge! But Re'van was picking
up something else withing the Darkside from this woman. Re'van took a step forward. As she did, she
mentally thought to Kalara. //We will be leaving soon.//. Then Re'van stretched out her hand, to touch
the coiling tendral of thought, to allow it to touch her. And with that action, to draw in the knowledge.
But Re'van planned to do much more than that. She would learn the truth of things. And she would envelop
and draw within herself everything she could from this being. The outside world did not matter. This was
far more important. And she would make sure to survive it, and have it strengthen her. For there was
another truth that the woman did not speak of, but Re'van knew. And that secret would set her free.


TAG: Sinrebirth, Lady Belligerent, [@Mikaboshi]

 

Combo with the Premier GM Sinrebith

*( we tried to keep it brief )

Lord Manticore
Coruscant surface

Hatred against Serenity

Where was Darth Titus?

Lord Manticore growled in his mind. Digrant had created and opportunity that needed to be exploited. Such windows were fleeting and not easily created within the flow of battle.

Then it hit him.

The Jedi were probably using a particular technique he had heard about against sith. This only helped to infuriate the zabrak to greater heights. The sith counter offensive was not going as smoothly as it ‘should be’.

Manticore snarled as he felt the flow of battle shift once again, the darkside literally crackling around him.

Both the force and the sound of approaching fighter vessels alerted him to an imminent attack from above. Manticore curled his gloved fingers and gripped one of the Twintails with the force, then caused it to crash against its wingman, both ship’s exploding in midair as they collided one against the other. As he flipped out of the way of incoming fire, he deflected a series of shots with his saber-staff and redirected it at a retreating ship instead, successfully peppering and shattering one of its tails.

The rest were veering off, either being chased by pursuing ships or preparing to make another pass.

This was a waste of precious time.

That’s when he sensed a very powerful presence in the force.

Even as he whirled about, Manticore was slammed to the hard floor.

From his prone position, Manticore lay his fiery gaze upon the Jedi Grandmaster, K’Kruhk. The large whiphid looked the part of a wizened old Jedi Master, at least.

“Another Darth Maul lookalike. I wonder if your horns are real?” The Jedi taunted.

That was a very weak attempt at Dun Moch. Manticore hoped the Jedi possessed greater combat skills than his ‘humor’ if he were to prove any kind of challenge. Or perhaps age was beginning to take its toll. If so, it was probably time for him to be ‘retired’.

Manticore’s hate flared! This old Jedi needed to be destroyed. Emperor Insipid demanded it.

The zabrak grinned evily, noting how the Grandmaster pinned him in place. Manticore did not need to gesture, as he allowed himself to remained pinned for the moment and cast a Force Barrier around himself. With the force, he pulled down on the GA Nu class shuttle, actually helping the Jedi to crash it upon their heads. The Jedi was shielding the shuttle from attack. If the Grand Master though he could anticipate how the Stygian Executor would react, he was in for a surprise.

“Yes…..” Manticore rasped as he began to answer. His focus in the darkside was as sharp and brilliant as any sith lightsaber.

The shuttle came crashing down and exploded with tremendous force, sending debris and roiling out fire all around them. Once Manticore’s own shield failed during the impact, the sith zabrak used Force Repulse to deflect the remaining impact force and pyrokinesis to control the fire immediately around him. His Force Rage was such that he seemed unhurt, despite the fact that his robes had been shredded, evidence that he’d suffered an undetermined level of physical trauma.

When he spoke, fire erupted from his mouth with every word. His eyes shone, like blazing embers, and no flame caused him harm.

“…they are very real.” He said finishing his answer, at which moment, he force sprinted at the old whiphid in a blink of an eye, spinning his saber to attack his neck first then sweep at his feet.


The darkside had granted him his wish, delivering his first target so promptly. And now, the Emperor demanded his death.

Grandmaster K'Kruhk could never overestimate the hate that a Sith could summon. They always surprised him. Without fail. The inferno subsided and K'Kruhk could only watch forlornly behind his Force shield as it parted the flames around him. More waste. More failure. More death.

K'Kruhk had spent a good half a century in hiding before joining the New Jedi Order, because he knew that New did not always mean better.

These Sith seemingly had to learn that mistake.

Darth Manticore, High Lord of the Sith, for it could be no other man, lunged out of the flame, double bladed saver swinging.

K'Kruhk responded as swiftly, bringing up his walking stick down tip first on the actual hilt, catching the strike to his neck at the base, and he simply stepped forward into the reach of the weapon and shoved, interfering with the swipe at his feet.

But not only did he shove, but he shoved up, taking Manticore's feet off the floor and then, with a bunch of his fist, crashed the Zabrak back to the ground with all the strength a centuries old Jedi Grandmaster could muster.

Serenity commanded him.

And he commanded it.

The shuttle burned around them, and K'Kruhk opened his mind of anticipation - he had no idea what Manticore would do, but he did not expect. Unlike Shado Vao, he was supple in the Force, relentlessly so.

Anticipation was distraction, as he often taught the younglings, as T'ra Saa had before him, Kol had before her, as Ben had before him, as Luke had even before that... In the mantle that had passed unerringly from Yoda, K'Kruhk was a worthy heir of the role.

He was a connection between now and a thousand years of Jedi training.

He was the paragon of light.

Manticore was nothing to that.

Bravo!! The old whiphid could dance!

This was the second best event of the day, thus far. The first was attributed to Darth Insipid.

The whiphid’s blow had been mighty indeed. Manticore let some of the energy dissipate through him and into the ground. He didn’t need to absorb the impact as most combatants did, especially since he was hefted in the air, as he provided little to no resistance. It was a very useful and simple thing, actually. In an instant, he was back on his feet. Almost like a living thing, the flames which were around them suddenly rushed to him at his command.

The zabrak was now surrounded by a shroud of fire. With a grin, he intensified the heat. Could the Jedi Grand Master stand it?

“I hope that wasn’t your best shot.” he quipped.

Silently, he noticed the Jedi Master’s serenity. It reminded him too much of the man in the grey robes, but it was not a concern at the moment. From what he’d sensed the two were on very different levels.

Manticore had tested that man’s ‘serenity’. It was time to test the whiphid’s.

A wounded alliance soldier had gained courage simply by the Jedi Grandmaster’s presence. He got up on one knee and took aim at the Sith Lord. Foolish man. Manticore briefly glanced at him and set him on fire, immolating him. His screams were mildly pleasing.

“You, Coruscant, and everything you hold dear will burn, whiphid.” Manticore stated simply. “Delaying the inevitable does not change the outcome.”

Everything around them got increasing hotter. The air shimmered in response, even the metallic debris around them began to show signs of incandescence. The zabrak’s wellspring of hate knew no limits.

“Your stick will burn, as will your robes, your flesh will melt and your bones will crack open. My hate will consume you and your world.”

The unconscious soldiers were beginning to catch fire now. The jewel need to be cleansed of jedi filth.

“The time of the jedi is coming to an end. Deny it if you wish. It changes nothing.”

All around them conflict raged. Blood, death and fire were the order of the day. Above and below. Manticore dark deep from his dad nexus and used it for fuel. The grand master was blind. He saw only a zabrak, when it fact, he beheld one who carried out the inexorable dictates of the darkside.


Even Master Yoda recognized that he alone could not stave off a dark tsunami so long ago, in the very building that stood behind them. Irony of ironies, the cycle had come full circle once again.

K'Kruhk did not need his eyes to see. He had no interest in debating with a Sith who was purely deranged - as sycophantic as any who served Darth Insipid. His wooden staff did not burn, and nor did he. Slowly, K'Kruhk took a breath. With a thrust, he drove the staff into the ground with the strength of the Force; permacrete was nothing to the Force, and it shattered.

Everything on Coruscant was atop something else. Cracks ran through the floor and debris fell down through the gaps, taking the flame with it.

K'Kruhk soothed with his mind, and drew upon the creatures that dwelt between the shadows of this world; Vongforms. Plants began to grow up in the gaps at his bidding, and K'Kruhk simply drew attention back to himself, standing in a spot which radiated cracks and gaps and upturned ground, sufficient to interfere with footwork.

From a pocket in his robes, he drew it out; something not used for many years.

A lightsaber.

The aged Jedi Grandmaster reverently ignited it.

It was time to end this.

To put it simply, Manticore was amused.

The Jedi Grandmaster cracked the very floor they stood in with the power of the Force, causing gaps to appear as portions of the flooring gave-in and fell below them. Manticore extended his own powers to aggravate what Grandmaster K’Kruhk had started, especially near the allied soldiers, their nearby vehicles and he certainly aimed to weaken what flooring the ATHT stood upon. He didn’t even have to wager that their own weight would finish the rest in short order.

A chain reaction is what he had in mind. One that, he certainly hoped, would reach the generator and disable it. He could not help Anark at the moment, but perhaps this ‘tremor’ would give him an opportunity he could exploit.

Manticore remained ignited. His vehemence and connection to the darkside was truly fearsome as he faced off with Grandmaster K’kruhk, one that at the very least matched the whiphid’s level of serenity in depth.

With feline ease, the zabrak simply took a step onto an exposed support beam without even looking, as the floor gave way. Plants began to surge up from the gaps, but any vegetation that came close to the Sith Master was singed into nothingness, so fearsome was his flame.

Did the whiphid really think that such a paltry obstacle course would pose a challenge to him? It would be interesting to have seen K’kruhk make good time in the kilometer wide death trap he’d trained in. Balancing well over 15 meters on beams and poles only as wide as his hand, above a surface covered with jagged spikes which were meters in length, all while avoiding moving parts designed to main and kill. This here was nothing…if not less by comparison.

Even so, seeing the old whiphid draw his lightsaber caused him to smirk. In response, Lord Manticore moved his wrists just so, and his saberstaff separated into two lightsabers.

The entire encounter was reminiscent of one of his advanced training exercises, which all could potentially end in his death. The only improvement here was, that he was facing-off against a Jedi Grandmaster. This was a foe he could ill-afford to underestimate. Besides, Emperor Insipid demanded the Grandmaster's death.

As it was, Manticore's weapons were already ignited, so he bent his knees and half crouched as he nodded at K’kruhk with due respect.


Around him, the sounds of the continued collapse of the roof only encouraged him. Perhaps he could ‘convince’ the Jedi Grandmaster to help him bring the whole building down. That would be most useful, indeed…for a jedi.

K'Kruhk looked into the green blade, and then through it. And then... He moved; a blur. He slashed low and then gestured with his free hand; his staff found it and he clasped the top half of the staff and swung, ready to catch the Sith across the neck.

But at the same time K'Kruhk had something Manticore did not; he had mass. The move was designed to make it so Manticore's blades were occupied, and he could shove him off his footing and then launch after him.

Oh, how he relished in the throes of mortal combat! It was during this singular experience that he truly felt ‘alive’. This wasn’t joy, far from it, that had been utterly eradicated from his being. This ersatz sensation was forged in the darkside and it served him well enough.

Pity the Emperor bid him be quick about his business.

The whiphid was fast and strong, there was no doubt about it. Both combatants were infused with the power of the Force. Everything the zabrak had faced since the inception of his training had been bigger and stronger, and he grew to crush them all, utterly and without exception. He did not have the luxury of time, however, but nothing would change this day.

K’Kruhk’s low strike was easily parried as Manticore fell into the Jedi Grandmaster’s fighting rhythm. The blow to his neck, he managed block, just barely, but the impact was so powerful that he had to roll with the force of the blow, lest his head be knocked clean off his shoulders. Manticore grimaced as he tumbled to the side, but in a controlled manner.

As he was in the midst of an aerial tumble and K’Kruhk was focused on launching himself after him, the zabrak sensed his sith fighter coming around to strike the Jedi Grandmaster from behind as instructed.

Should the whiphid sense danger, he would be forced to act, or ignore it if he dared. Either way, an opportunity for the Sith Master would be created, an opportunity that Manticore meant to exploit.

A beam exposed by K’kruhk’s cave-in was within reach, though covered in vines, which was well enough. The Jedi Grandmaster might be fire proof, but the same could not be said for the plant life that grew all around them.

The flow of battle surged between the two force users as their clash continued.

K'Kruhk pursued the Sith, who was retreating; probably pulling himself towards a new trap.

K'Kruhk followed Manticore, shape eyes following where he was to leap, and they exchanged perfunctory blows as they leaped. While Manticore undoubtedly had his mind focused on some treachery, K'Kruhk bid the vines embrace the High Lord as much as they would himself, installing in the vines a desire to grow, am empathy.

They would be entangled together.

They would die together; it was as good a plan as any in the face of infinite evil.

There was no death, there was only the Force.

The Fury was upon them, firing lances of scarlet death at the two Masters.

But not before K’kruhk caused the vines under his command to wrap themselves around them. He sought to cocoon them and take them to a serene grave.

Manticore was not having any of it. Both Masters were equally focused and resolved toward different outcomes. Manticore’s fires burned brightly against the encroaching vines, while mentally he rejected the Jedi’s serenity. In fact, he projected his hate and vehemence instead, the pain that he was currently under, the shards of metal inside him which fueled his pain and his fury!

His twin sabers slashed furiously at whatever vines were not burned quickly enough by his shroud of fire, which he extinguished as they both fell one level below, now that the beam they would have landed on was no more.

The sith fighter flew past above them as they fell. K’kruhk’s plant surge had kept growing around the jedi as the barrage hit him, protecting him and saving him from harm.

This whiphid was indeed a worthy as he was mighty, there was no doubt. Manticore found purchase as he landed on a broken ledge within the ruined chamber they were now in. He had lost sight of the whiphid, but he kew his foe was not dead. He would have felt it, not only that, he had not done the deed himself.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Manticore manipulated the force to stealth his presence, while extending his senses in order to glean the whereabouts of his foe. K’kruhk would either attempt to escape or finish things here and now.

The girder that Manticore was upon suddenly collapsed, severed where it had been. Several in jumping distance did, and had been, out of sequence, since the floor had given out. A single one in jumping distance was apparent; smothered in flame, and smoke, and ash, and when that flame parted there was only K'Kruhk, standing there, his finger ready and outreached to break apart this lifeline for them.

The Grandmaster of the Jedi Order was a strategist. He was not a brute; his brutish appearance was something humans and humanoids felt. The Jedi Grandmaster's side was matted with blood; he'd been injured, but the Whiphid drew his cloak around the wound, seeking to conceal this information for it would only invigorate the Sith.

The whipped lived still. Good. That was a temporary condition at best.

Manticore did not reveal his presence as the Grandmaster had done, instead, he used the falling girders as ‘steps’ to leap upwards using the force to cover the distance between them. The Sith Master remained unflinching, for the wounds he had suffered only served to strengthen his connection to the darkside and fuel his indomitable resolve.

As he leapt past the now ‘collapsed’ rooftop, the zabrak vaulted in time to land atop the Sith Fighter which was on the return pass. Manticore remained crouched to better balance himself as he directed ‘necros’, to fire around the Jedi Grandmaster and any other structural weaknesses. It was time to bring the whole thing down.

K'Kruhk had thought in two dimensions; Manticore in three. With a powerful push up, K'Kruhk bounded into the air, using the Force to propel his Force-hardened staff at the fighter cockpit as it made its return pass. With a gesture he drew up the debris beneath his feet and pushed off that, already drawing more debris to act as another platform to push off. Girders danced to the sky, entwining them both; a veritable wall of debris reaching to block the sky -

- assuming his staff didn't blow through the front of the fighter and out the pilot and cockpit in that split second.

K'Kruhk was moving up; up, up, up, working to be higher than Manticore in a battle for the high ground, his lightsaber deflecting what little fire could track him.

Sith fighters were being beaten back; Titus was down, Digrant was disconnected, Snokers was being escorted away.

Endgame was soon.

K'Kruhk only had to live.

Manticore had to kill.

The tide of battle spoke it loud and clear. The endgame was at hand. The Sith Emperor demanded it. The battle all around them demanded it, and the darkside required it, for it sustained him still, even after his injuries.

Darth Insipid was right. Jedi Grandmaster K’kruhk was too powerful to be allowed to escape, much less live.

Manticore sensed imminent danger and leapt skyward and safely away from his ship’s destruction.

The sith fighter was but a means to an end, a tool of war which had served its purpose, not a moment’s thought was spent on the loss of the craft. As he hovered, Manticore could clearly see what the jedi was attempting and he could not allow it.

The Sith High Lord, like the darkside, were at the zenith! Manticore had the high ground and he would exploit it for everything that it was worth.

While in mid-air, he turned downward to face the rising whiphid and began to spin as he descended, faster and faster. Manticore wrapped the force around him like an impenetrable cocoon and fashioned his falling form into a spinning drill. Gravity and the darkside were his allies as he drew in what debris and mass flew around the downward tornado that the had become.

The zabrak focused a penetrating force at the point of his two lightsabers, which spun so fast they became a single crimson band. Like a funnel of death, he fell straight at the Jedi Grandmaster.

K’kruhk, powerful as he was, had to contend against gravity. The Force was with the sith this day.

At the moment of impact, Manticore planned to detonate the force to shred open the Jedi’s protections, if not the jedi himself. Should that not suffice, he would parry him the jedi open, taking full advantage of any momentary gain, then have him taste a face-full of his horns, which would impact with the force of a thermal detonator.

K’kruhk had asked Manticore if his horns were real?

It was only proper that he get an answer before he met his end.

K'Kruhk looked up at Manticore, pouring down at him, with all of his hate, all of his anger, all of his power.

K'Kruhk could not precisely ascertain when he had lost this, but he knew that Manticore was already positioned to crash down into where he was about to bound from; K'Kruhk's momentum was such that he could hardly avoid it. So, he did not.

He pushed himself faster to the platform, an outcropping on one of the surrounding buildings, which was being drawn into the hurricane of debris that was here.

As K'Kruhk closed he saw the frightened faces within the building... And he realised that he had lost sight of the reason he was fighting... He had just been fighting, that was all.

He inverted on the platform - part of a shattered bridge, and resolved to fight to end this. He stamped his foot down, pushing up with all of his strength, with all of the Force, with all of his might.

He wrapped himself in a cocoon, sharpened it into a point in the moment before where he was and where he is, and crashed into Manticore.

The shockwave shattered all the windows of a hundred buildings in the area, and shook the Senate chamber to its foundations. Fighters in the immediate vicinity would scatter, and the entire battle would end for a long moment in the vicinity of their point of impact.

Manticore exploded apart his defences; K'Kruhk slashed apart the penetrating blades of Manticore; and then his head met K'Kruhk's chest; and gravity and momentum and pure unadulterated power blew him back, and down, and it was to go through the building he had opted to defend, but a tweak of what was left of his willpower sent their arc down tighter, so they crashed into the floor in front of the tower - and through -

And through and through and through.

They were a dozen levels down before they impacted with a level that was low enough down to arrest their moment. The Grandmaster was mortally wounded.

He had lost his lightsaber somewhere above, and his chest was embedded. As Manticore would pull free, one of the horns would snap off, and K'Kruhk, with his last words, he reflected. 'They may have been real, but they break all the same.'

And so, with a portent of wisdom, the Grandmaster, finally, died.

And so, it was finally over. Jedi Grandmaster K’kruhk finally died, or so it appeared.

Manticore’s fiery eyes looked at the whiphid’s massive form, ruined, as was everything else around them.

“Eventually, everything breaks…everything.” He rasped darkly at the now dead K’kruhk. The High Lord smoothly placed both ends of his lightsabers and twisted, reforming his saber staff once again.

“Through Power, I gain Victory.”

With a perfunctory motion, he stabbed at the whiphid’s massive chest, making certain of the kill. After all, the Jedi Grandmaster proved to posses great resilience. He had become legend in his own time, and with good reason.

Satisfied, Manticore gestured with his hand and recalled his lost horn into his black glove, then pocketed it into his robes. It had now become a token of remembrance. The darkside always exacted a price. Always, even in victory.

It was only then that he allow himself to fall unto one knee and gasp audibly. The anguish of excruciating agony shot through his entire being, threatening to overwhelm his resolve, but Manticore’s will had become indomitable beyond description. He had endured that which was unspeakable and conquered it, and made it his strength.

Taking a moment, he sat in lotus position; he placed his upturned hands upon his crossed legs, closed his eyes, then used a Teras Kasi technique. It was a force enhanced psychosomatic ritual that allowed him to push out embedded objects from his body. The ejection was painful, but efficient.

Manticore did not groan as several metal shards slowly emerged from his well muscled midsection. As a warrior, he was forged in the cauldrons of constant combat to survive such trauma. In a blink, the shards were expelled with great suddenness. The High Lord took in a sharp breath, immediately after they were discharged.

The battle with K’kruhk had taken a lot more out of him than he even imagined, despite having no expectations in the confrontation. With three universal breaths, Manticore re-energized himself, at least enough to carry on.

His eyes narrowed as he looked around, with his senses, he stretched out.

There.

The Grandmasters staff.

It was several floors above him, sticking out precariously from one of the breaches they had created as they fell. Manticore eyed the thing dubiously for a moment, but he had little choice in the matter. He did not wish the thing to ‘taint’ him, should K’kruhk’s staff still retain some fading lightside energy.

Jumping up in bounds and force enhanced leaps, Manticore reached a ledge next to the staff. He needed proof that the Grandmaster had been slain. His staff was a symbol, it was poetic. He would need no words.

With a small gesture, Manticore called the staff to his hand, and frowned as he touched it. It still possessed some residual power, but without its master, the staff could be corrupted. It was an in treating thought.

Wasting no more time, the Sith High Lord focused on the task of jumping all the way to the surface. However, he would take an alternate route before emerging. It would not to do egress the same way he’d entered. Besides, he sensed someone familiar above. That’s where he needed to be.

As he climbed, he felt no remorse. Not for the ruined building or its inhabitants. This was War, and the Battle of Coruscant would not be over until a Sith Standard alone flew upon the planet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Above in the sky, the battle still raged on. The dark and the light vied for dominance, both above and below. Manticore approached silently, his robes were in tatters, so he was barely recognizable, if not for his fiery eyes. His hood no longer covered his head, but revealed his crown of horns, save one.

On his right hand, he held his sabrestaff, not ignited. On his left, he held the staff that once belonged to the Legendary Jedi Grandmaster K’kruhk. He had been concealing his presence, but allowed himself to be sensed once he was in range.

“Darth Anark.” He called out . His voice as always, a rasp, tinged with a discernible undercurrent of menace.

“I see you have made some new friends.”

Manticore did not fail to notice how his ‘slave’ now held a weapon to him. He was escorted by two Imperial Knights. Hmm. Manticore didn’t recall having one of their lightsabers in his collection. At least not yet.

The small group was about to enter the Senate Building. This was excellent timing.

Then, without warning…

[“What do I need to do?”]

A recently familiar voice chimed through the com-link. Manticore didn’t bother surpassing a smirk as he regarded Anark and the others.

“Why don’t you join us.” He said, inviting Darth Hesper to be a part of the entourage, that without a doubt, were making their way to the Senate Building.

Tag: @Snokers, @corinthia, @Darth Master Titus, @Sinrebirth, @dragonsith13

OOC: @Snokers : I’m ready for our combo whenever you are.

 

IC: Darth Kronos

Anger and rage fueled his Lightning attack. Being sent careening into a wall wasn't exactly the most calming of situations. He had clenched his fists, as if he were planning to rush the droid and punch it in its robotic face. But, instead, he thrusted his arms out, sending Force Lightning at his robotoc opponent, with as much power as he could muster. He had aimed for the power core, which was luckily exposed. It did not take long for this droid to be destroyed. The power core had begun to overheat, becoming a darker shade of red with each second the Force Lightning was shocking it. It had exploded, and multiple sharp pieces of metal flew throughout the room.

One jagged piece had caught Kronos in the shoulder, causing him to bleed profoundly. He cringed in pain. And it would only get worse if he didn't pull it out. So, he gripped the end of the piece of metal tightly, and ripped it out like a bandage. A sharp feeling of pain pierced through his shoulder, as blood spilled onto the ground. He dropped the jagged piece of metal, which made a clanging sound. It would probably more audible since the fight was ending, and his fellow team members had found their strength and taken out the droids.

His hand shook - both from anger and the wound he had suffered from. It wasn't too noticable, but it wasn't subtle either. Anyone with a keen eye could have easily noticed his shakiness. And it was proven that everyone there had keen eyesight. But that kind of speculation wasn't important. Immdiately realizing that he could bleed out if not carefull, Kronos threw his right hand onto his wound, and applied pressure. Blood was beginning to stain his black glove.

He relished in the comfort that no one could see his facial expressions.

Everyone was regrouping, even the bounty hunter, Tek and the newcomer, whom Kronos did not know the name of yet.

Kronos even noticed a small nod from Kralkus to Tek. As if he trusted him. Even if it was only a little bit. The young Sith Master was still unsure, as if the bounty hunter had a trick of his sleeve.

His wound was not going to heal itself, however. Well, at least not immediately. And, thankfully, Kralkus knew this. He ordered Esmerelda to tend to his wounds.

She was clearly worried about something. It was only made evident by the fact she kept her had down when walking towards him. He had no idea why she was so afraid, or nervous, of him. If anything, he expected her to me more fearful of Kralkus, considering the power he possesses. But, clearly, that wasn't the case. She was stumbling her way over. Once she was closer to him, Esmerelda handed out a bacta patch to him, politely saying:

"Lord Kronos, if I may assist?"

She was so weirdly polite. Weirdly being a key word, as she had finally looked up to him, giving him a warm smile with flushed cheeks. She was also approaching him awfully fast. That, on top of the fact she wasn't looking where she was going, made Kronos thing she was going to run into him. He took a few staps back to make sure that wouldn't happen.

But, it turned out that wasn't needed. Before she could fully reach him, she had tripped over a piece of metal, probably from the droid that recently exploded. She was fallen right in front of him. Anyone in that situation would probably feel extremely embarrassed. Even Kronos. She looked like a fool.

It kind of made him smile. It might have been cruel, but that was what was funny to him. And, he assumed, to others, too. Yet, he also felt a little sorry for her. She was embarrassing herself by tripping and like that, probably making herself look like a complete moron to him, and everyone else. He was strongly considering helping her up.

Then, he had to stop himself. He was letting his inner Jedi show. Compassion for others was not something the Sith liked to have. Any of the Sith there could have sensed it. Kralkus, Zalen, and even that newcomer.

He heaved a sigh, trying to conseal those emotions. Hide them beneath the layers of hatred he had so often done. He was getting sloppy. In turn, he stared down at Esmerelda, hoping that no one noticed anything unusual about him.

All of this made him forget he was even bleeding.

TAG: Darth_wanderguard Sinrebirth Ktala Lady Belligerent QueenSabe7

 

IC: Lord Manticore

Coruscant, Outside the Senate Building

The moment the two Imperial Knights sensed the approaching form of the zabrak High Lord, they immediately dragged Anark through a hidden side door, which shut behind them in a blink of an eye, disappearing from sight.

Before Manticore even moved to give chase, an anti-personnel turret appeared and fired on his position. Needless to say, Manticore was to experienced to fall for that tactic, as he ignited one end of his saber in an instant. He was already executing an evasive motion as he simply reflected the crimson bolts back at the turret, destroying it in the process.

Manticore growled in annoyance.

The Imperial Knight’s delay tactic succeeded. Darth Anark was already out of his reach, he could sense it as he was moved rapidly further down the structure.

But that was not all he sensed.

The flow of battle was churning again, significantly, but with neither nature in clear dominance. The struggle simply intensified and splintered further. Manticore’s frown deepened. There was no clear ‘shift’ after Grandmaster K’kruhk’s death. It would seem a lot more was required.

For a moment, the zabrak stood still as he closed his eyes and let the currents of the darkside flow through him.

Somewhere far below, Anark was entering a precarious situation against the lightsiders. He could sense them. They were strong, individually and more so together. Not unlike the sith.

Sith forces were storming the Senate Chamber, but something did not feel quite right.

Somewhere near, Darth Titus was in a confrontation against powerful enemies.

His men, the sith troopers assigned to this operation, were also near, not just near...but, they were at the senate camber roof. Manticore’s uneasiness intensified just then.

[‘The Senate Cham…*bzzzt* Kill the Sen…*zzztttz* ..offs! …ipe out the Galac….zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzttztztztz*]

Manticore opened his eyes. His com-link had just died. Swiftly, he reached into his tattered robes and pulled out the datapad he had received before their campaign had launched. It was in total ruins. Unsalvageable, and made useless from his battle against the whiphid grandmaster.

Yes. It would seem everything did break, eventually. And there were also things that simply needed breaking.

Digrant was still somewhere above them, doing his part. The Emperor himself commanded the entire Sith Fleet and coordinated the assault on the surface. Manticore realized that he had no way of communicating with Darth Hesper or any of his fellow sith, but he was also without a ship, or his astrodroid.

He really had one sensible choice to make.

“Don’t kill them all without me, Anark. Not yet.”

Manticore spared a sneering glance at the points of light which held Anark, before moving towards the Senate Chamber. If Anark managed to delay the jedi, Manticore hoped to see his fellow sith execute his traitorous slave before his very eyes. Such treachery was punishable by death and death alone.

Using the force to leap and bound large gaps, the zabrak aimed for ever higher elevation, until he was at the proper height to leap upon the Senate Chamber roof.

It was here that he sensed a wrongness in the darkside, quite intently in fact. In this war, such matters needed his attention, especially when they did not concur with the Emperor’s wishes.

Manticore nodded grimly at a few of the repelling sith troopers before leaping down into the Senate Chambers, assisted solely by the force. He needn’t announce himself. Word that he’d rejoined them would spread on its own.

He first needed to investigate who or what was the focus of the subtle darkside anomaly he was sensing. The office of Stygian Executor demanded that he find the source and carry out his duty.


Tag: @Sinrebirth ( any Sith in the Senate Chambers )

 

GM UPDATE

IC: Darth Haretisch -- Catacombs

Xendor's essence twisted flamelike as Kwea's force push struck him fully. He ebbed for a moment, the inky blackness of his form crumbling against the flow of energy the way flakes of ash might catch in the wind. The last remnants of his force lightning crackled and dispersed into the air, leaving it charged and tingling in the sinuses.

Though Kwea seemed determined to push forward, and Octavius meanwhile had taken up post to protect his master's prone form, Darth Arach took a different route entirely - one of subtlety. She was not a warrior, but a thinker.

Lord Xendor, we are your brothers. We can help you. Tell us, my lord, what happened? How can we help you?

The words reached him, and reverberated through the meld as well. A cacophonous flood of energy would rush into Arach's consciousness - Xendor's tortured memories mixed with the utter chaos of the Left-Handed Lord who followed through the open doorway into her mind.

A blazing presence erupted to life in the meld as Haretisch awoke, roused by the psychic white-noise of the dark cascade which was filling Lady Arach. He, too, followed through the mental door, and all at once she would share the inner space of her unconscious mind with a Dark Lord, an ancient tortured spirit, and the very embodiment of evil, each battling for control.

In the physical realm, Xendor's presence was all but gone now, having passed into Arach by invitation, and her body lurched upward into the air, limply, tugged hither and thither by unseen forces which threatened to rip her apart at every joint.

"The sword!" Haretisch yelled to his apprentices with the last of his cognizance before he would disappear into Lady Arach's anima, leaving his body temporarily a mostly empty shell. "Destroy the sword!"

At the far side of the room, behind the black casket, a curved sword stood embedded in a stone pedestal. It was this ancient weapon that bound Xendor's spirit to the physical plane through bogan magic. Typhojem, too, at least insofar as this microscopic, independent fragment of his presence could be considered such, bound himself to this blade.

Haretisch's vacant body seized, contorting unnaturally though his face remained blank and his eyes hollow. Abruptly he jerked and rolled onto his back before lifting himself and crawling on four limbs belly-up toward the pedestal, possessed by Typhojem and intent on stopping the apprentices from destroying the sword. Only Octavius stood in its way.

The sword had to be shattered immediately - the anchor which held Typhojem and Xendor to the physical plane had to be severed, else Arach would be torn to ribbons and Haretisch's essence flattened and extinguished with her.

No ordinary weapon would destroy the sword of Xendor. The Foil of the Purebloods lay idle on the floor, mere feet away from Kwea Acantha.

TAG: Anedon, Halle Dray, Moonspun Dragon

 

IC: Borek Tek (Tek)
Hoth Temple

Well now, things had calmed down a bit, and Tek just sat back, observing. Darth short and angry, spoke to his charge, the gal Esmerelda, as he looked at a wounded Sith. "Mend his wounds, you will," he instructed, "and the bounty hunter," he added, looking to Tek with a nod. Tek returned the nod, but he bet ole Kralkus' was cutting teeth to add that remark in. Tek was about to wave the girl off, as he didnt need anything from her, when he noticed something. The girls cheeks and actually flushed as he headed towards the injured sith. LOL! Embarrassed, or something else perhaps? It was apparent that the request was affecting her. And she was walking so fast, holding out a bacta patch, that she tripped, and literally went flying towards him. Well now, that be a flying nerf. He replaced his axe back in its holder while he watched the entertainment.

Tek's attention was drawn towards their new mystery guest, as Darth backwards-speaks-I continued to speak. “Trained in the dark arts, you have no doubt been," The new woman straightened and took a step towards him as he continued. "Fought well you have, but trust you, I do not! For the details of how you came to be in stasis, I care not. For what you foolishly sought by coming to this place, I care not. But know this, young one - you stand in the presence of the Sith! I am Darth Kralkus, lieutenant of Night Herald Darth Haretisch. Know that you will not undo our designs! When finished here our business is, accompany us to Korriban, you will. If obedient you are... before the triumvirate, you will go. Rewarded, you will be." Well now, that was a mite bit of interesting information there. Darth Crawlkus, wasnt trusted by the Night Herald? Or was that a false trail being placed there? A bit to consider. As to him not trusting her, well he doubted the farkle trusted anything or anyone. As Tek flipped over his glasses, rebooting them, and putting them on his face, he heard ole Crawlkus huff, and turn, looking towards him. "And remember you should, bounty hunter, that the same stands for you. Ready yourselves." Yeah right, the only thing he wanted from the .. what he call em? The Triumvirate, was his pay. They could keep the other poodoo.

"Always ready." was Tek's reply to the man's statement. Especially, of what he had seen of the group so far. Tek gave a sharp jesture, and Zeek floated over to him, dropping down to shoulder level. He gave Zeek a series of orders via finger gestures. A green light show he understood the new orders. Tek then reached down, and changed the ammo pack he had been using. He decided he needed something a bit more powerful for this place. Acid filled slugs should do the trick. That should put a little pep in their step! Tek then turned, and gave a look at the young woman they had just freed from her confignment. The woman had moves. Tek gave the young woman a respectful nod, and tipped his hat back as a sign of respect. "You have a name, you prefer to be called by?" he asked her with a slight smile. "Cause personally, 'hey you' seems a bit rude." he added as he waited to see if the woman would respond or not.




TAG: Sinrebirth, QueenSabe7, Darth Kronos, Lady Belligerent, Darth_wanderguard

 

Darth Hades
Desert, Moraband

Hades looked upon the form of the Wookie backed into a corner and sneered in derision.

Look at you, a savage beast, a predator cowering in fear. And worse yet, you are here with a Trandoshan. A race that has oppressed your people and sold them into slavery.​

​

Hades pointed one of his lightsaber blades at the Wookie. You have so much power you could call to your aide! You can feel the power here, in the sand, the planet its self! As for your friend, he never planned to let you live. He would have left your carcas to the desert sands. Kill him, and then you will be free!​

​

TAG: WookieeRage

​

 

IC: Syren (Xia Cass)
Hoth Temple


Glaring at the stasis pod closest to where she stood, Syren slowly reached out a hand as if to touch its surface. Instead, she let it drop to her side as she clenched her teeth in irritation. Looking to the side, she continued to watch the bounty hunter with mild interest. As it appeared he was not a Sith, it also seemed to her that he was an outsider to this group. His attitude and what little she observed had suggested as much.

Switching up his gear and weapons, the man then turned towards her to offer a nod and a tip of his hat. Syren raised an eyebrow in response.

“You have a name you prefer to be called by?” He inquired, not impolitely. Giving her a small smile, he added, “Cause personally ‘hey you’ seems a bit rude.”

Thinking on what Lord Kralkus had said about his lack of trust in her, she could safely assume that the others would share his feelings. It was to be expected considering what had just transpired and truth be told, she was wary of them all in return.

Yet, here was this bounty hunter. If he was being held at arm’s length as she suspected, well then they had something in common. It could benefit her to have an ally here; at least until she made it through whatever it was she was in the middle of.

Rotating her body the rest of the way to face him fully, she took a few steps to where he stood. Making herself appear open, but not eager, she looked up at him and was again hit with a pang of familiarity…. And anger. Mentally closing off that train of thought before it became an issue, she forced calmness and a small twitch of a smile.

“Syren,” she told him as she eyed his airborne sidekick, careful to keep her chaotic feelings well-guarded.


TAGS: Ktala Darth_wanderguard Lady Belligerent Darth Kronos Sinrebirth

 

Borek Tek (Tek)
Hoth Temple


As Tek asked the woman her name, he noted how she turned to face him, taking a few steps towards him. Her face looked welcoming enough, but there was a bit of hesitation, and a small twitch of a smile towards him. Well, Tek could understand suddenly waking up, and finding yourself in a small group of strangers you know nothing about. And Darth Gotta Catchem All, sure wasnt the most friendliest of beings. The young woman finally spoke up.

“Syren,” she replied to his question, even as she eyed Zeek. Tek offered her a sly smile. "Well met, Syren. The name's Tek. Welcome to our little shin dig, we got going on." Tek grinned. He knew that it was most likely annoying another, but he didnt care. "You got some great moves there. Obviously, you were well trained." Tek gestured over towards Zeek. "Aww, dont worry about him. Zeek is a good watchdog. Arent ya?" Zeek simply rolled slowly, blinking from red to green, as he scanned the area.

Tek then turned around, to see how Esmeralda was doing with her task of bandaging the other Sith. Tek reached into his bag, and pulled out a small spray. He reached under his cape, and hidden underneath, he have a quick shot under his chest plate, and then quickly replaced his gear and put the item back up. And luckily for him, it had the extra benefit of making him smell good too! Tek then reached into another bag, and pulled out his small pouch of jerk nurf. He paused, and then looked towards Syren. "You hungry?"
he asked her. "I dont know how long you've been a pop-icicle, but after all that, I got some energy cubes if ya need em." he offered. With that, he shouldered his weapon, put a mouthful of shreaded meat in his mouth, and kept an eye on Esmeralda, while he waited for the other Sith to decided what to do next.



TAG: Sinrebirth, QueenSabe7, Darth Kronos, Lady Belligerent, Darth_wanderguard

 

Jedi Master T'Tkura
SSSD Vapid --- Central Core --- Bridge

They had moved quickly thus mobilizing, T'Tkura sensed that they were getting close as the emanating power of darkness grew. The Triumvir member the intelligence spoke of and the dark figure had confirmed present was near. The dark figure had dismissed T'Tkura's invitation, seemingly bored of the idea of the alliance he had briefly spoken of earlier when they had first stumbled upon him. With a fist he had began blowing holes through the bulkheads, clearing his own path as T'Tkura and his squad moved slightly more conventionally down the corridors. This was not ideal, the disturbance was bringing a large amount of attention and it was not long before they began to meet resistance. Though the majority of the attention was focused on the dark figure making his was in a straight line through the ship towards the bridge. It still invited notice upon T'Tkura's squad...

Sith troops began to join in the fray, opening fire upon the dark figure. The cape of the figure slid off..

Krayt? T'Tkura muttered. The Sith Lord was long since gone. T'Tkura knew the idea of death for any of them was never definitive. Nonetheless, the visage of the leader of the One Sith order from years past was in storming through the Vapid steelworks. Mangling a path of destruction. Eyes never told the whole truth and the moment was here and now, T'Tkura needed to focus on his squad and their survival. The attention of Sith troops was now upon them...

The Federation SPEC OPS team responded, never stopping they continued to move down the corridors returning fire, mixing in with a melee of close quarters combat. Moving as swiftly and silently as they could, T'Tkura set the pace as the squad kept up, well placed blaster shots took down Sith troopers who frantically were trying to grasp the situation that the bowels of their ship was turning into a firefight. The squad kept moving, one member placing a vibro-blade snuggling between the armor of a Sith trooper who had burst into the squad from an open doorway, The Sith trooper slide off the blade down onto the floor as the squad member quickly sheathed the blade and took up his blaster to down another Sith trooper at distance. A second squad member jammed his palm into the helmet of a Sith trooper who had similarly been caught up in the fast moving group, stunning him, before the Trooper flipped him in a Judo style move slamming him to the corridor floor, finishing him with a quick across the face, knocking him out....

T'Tkura move deflecting blaster fire with his saber, concentrating solely on defending the squad as they moved. His squad was superbly trained and capable, T'Tkura added only an extra layer of protection as he subtly force pushed three Sith Troopers out of the way, slamming them into a bulkhead. The squad moved by the now unconscious Sith troopers continuing their move towards the way-point.

They had arrived... the ship was fully aware of hostiles still aboard and T'Tkura and his squad were now outside the pinpointed tertiary bridge, the flag hanger was adjacent.
The comms officer spoke up. General... that thing is blocking out transmissions to Colonel Vespar's squad.

T'Tkura turned to the squad Captain. I will move towards Colonel Vespar and ensure we all get off this ship. I do not know what this dark figure is playing at... Get a shuttle and depart...

Sir! T'Tkura was interrupted but the Captain. You know we all leave together.

Right. T'Tkura said, he knew the statement was coming. He wondered why he had initially bothered to suggest that the current squad in place depart without Vespar's squad.

Secure a craft and get us ready to depart. I will return with the rest of our squad.

T'Tkura prepared to move, though he waited to see what this dark figure would provide to the unfolding situation around the central core systems. The squad moved quickly away from T'Tkura doubling back down one of the corridors they had come down moving to find a way into the flag hanger.

TAG: Sinrebirth anyone ELSE still on the Vapid

 

GM UPDATE

IC: Darth Kralkus -- Hoth

The droids had been done away with. The time to move on had come - and the end was near.

The chill of the air became nearly unbearable as Kralkus led the group, now joined by Darth Syren, through the doorway on the far side of the circular room. Down further still they went, across a long downward sloping hall.

At its terminus was a black door. In the center was a simple lock - a circular indentation with jagged, spiral arms extending to equal distance in four directions. Kralkus reached into his coat as he approached, and his clawed fingers found the key. A circular object of dull gray metal, which produced four familiar arms with a click when a switch was engaged.

There was a sparkle in the old master's eye as he placed the key into the door - a perfect fit - and turned it. With a groan, the door opened to reveal a brilliant, pristine room beyond. Kralkus felt compelled to remove his fur-lined hood as he crossed the threshold, despite the bitter cold, and he looked upon it with awe. A room of sparkling crystal - blue and purple and red quartz glistening in the floor and walls. And on the far side, hovering amidst a gap in a column set against the wall, encased in an energy field... The Eye of Hoth.

The group could not have gotten as far as it had without Esmerelda - the young but brilliant scholar whose studies into Sith archaeology had been sponsored by Darth Haretisch himself from her early days in university through to her independent research; years spent locating, decoding, and poring over ancient texts. Time that no Dark Lord would have had available to spend. She had even conceived and created the software which allowed her decoder to interface with the technology in these ancient ruins. She was invaluable to this undertaking.

In more ways than one.

She was as innocent as she was bright. And this, above all, was a rarity among Sith. And it was essential. The Eye of Hoth, for all of the technological security surrounding it, was ultimately locked in place by Sith Magic. Protected by an impenetrable field of force energy which could only be dispelled by ritual.

Regretfully, Kralkus rose a calm hand in Esmerelda's direction, and she was abruptly hoisted into the air. She must have expected this. She knew of the required ritual before even Haretisch and Kralkus had.

Slowly, Kralkus began to drain the life from her. In a short time she would become an empty shell, one having been occupied by the purest spirit, and the energy which encased the Eye would be drawn into her body.

"Zalen, Kronos, Syren... Join me, you must," he ordered. "The will of the Night Herald it is, that the girl must die. No other way, is there."

It was an awful thing, but such was the way of the Sith. Kralkus looked sternly to Tek, almost daring him to intervene against three Sith masters and an apprentice. "Receive payment you will, bounty hunter. But interfere in matters beyond your ken, you should not," he said, darkly.

TAG: Darth Kronos, QueenSabe7, Ktala, Lady Belligerent, Sinrebirth[/i]

 

Darth Titus
Coruscant; Senate Steps

After the crash everything went dark. Usually Sith liked the dark, but this was a different kind of dark. The young Sith Lord seemed to be floating, in another body it seemed. He certainly was not in his own, or was he? Trying to remember what led him here was a blur. All that could be remembered was crashing. Everything before the crash seemed like a distant memory; like trying to remember events from your early youth.

His eyes opened, and he was indeed in his own body. He could make out the shape of the cabin encompassed around him, or whatever was left of it. No light shone in however.

The Stealth ship Titus was piloting had broke off into thousands of pieces. How was he still alive. Immediately after impact the wings and tails of the ship snapped off. After snapping, it allowed the shell of the ship to tumble and barrel roll through the buildings and surfaces of Coruscant. The ship must have flipped 20 or more times.

Given the state of the cockpit, it can be assumed Titus was extremely fortunate to still be alive. The cabin was forged into a sphere because of the Coruscant surface. Claustrophobia began to set in as Titus had no wiggle room. He made his first attempt at moving and immediately howled in pain. He looked down at his abdomen to see a 2 foot long pipe bearing through his robe.

He cursed aloud. Clenching his jaws tight, he pulled the pipe out of his stomach. Sharp pain shot through his body like a lightning bolt. The pain and blood he had lost was making it almost impossible to free himself from the rubble.

Suddenly the pain began to subside and strength returned to his weakened body. His only guess what that the new Emperor Insipid had felt his pain and reached out through the force. Titus' mission was not complete and Insipid wanted it done.

With the strength returning, Titus attempted his escape. He pushed at the enclosed walls around them but they did not budge. This attempt would be futile.

Not having enough rooms to position his arms to force push was infuriating. Titus figured he'd just have to use his entire body instead. The young Sith Lord closed his eyes and focused his mind, becoming in sync with the force. As the force coursed through his veins he screamed as the force left his body, bursting in all directions trying to release. The walls to his left and right, and the wall atop of him exploded. Light now engulfed Titus as he looked up into the Coruscant sky.

With his strength now gone again, pulling himself to his feet was more of a hassle than it should have been. Raising his head he was met with a beautiful building. The infamous Senate Building. War marks had been imposed on the Senate, but even so it was a sight to behold. Titus was just at the feet of the steps.

He shook himself back into focus. His task was to now find and kill General Venn Mohc. And the last time Titus spoke with Insipid about this target, the Emperor made it a point to state how public his death must be. But where was he? How would he find the man.

Titus scanned the area looking for his fellow Sith, but none of them were in sight. Perhaps they took off in pursuit of their targets. Looking back at the rubble he had just escaped, everything was on fire. He could see where the ship had skidded along the ground for what seemed a mile long. Titus looked down at his abdomen to see his robes covered in blood. He ripped the whole where the pipe struck wide open revealing his mid rift. There was a gaping hole which would have scared most others senseless. But Titus knew it would heal.

He refocused onto the flames. And then something shifted within those flames. No, it was behind the flames. A squadron of troops scourged through the debris, presumably searching for any survivors or enemies alike. Titus hid behind a wall to keep out of sight. He was in no shape to fight hand fulls of troops head on. Not yet of course.

Titus thought back to Insipid's description of Venn Mohc. "Has an adapted body armour which is formfitting to the extent that he will appear to be a chrome plated stormtrooper, possessing repulsors and palm mounted blasters." Titus crept forward to get a better look at these stormtroopers. The man was easy to pick out from the group. Mohc was in a dark chrome storm trooper suit which was much bulkier than the standard suit.

Mohc was shouting orders at his men, "No survivors here. I'm not wasting more time down here than needed. We will return to the Venerable. Men, form up on me. Move out!"

The chase was on, Titus hurried off in hot pursuit. He would sneak onto the thrustship Venerable which is currently sitting in orbit. There, Titus would gut Venn Mohc in front of the entire ship.

TAGS: @Sinrebirth @greyjedi125 @Snokers @dragonsith13 @corinthia

 

IC: Darth Hesper
Senate Building

Spiraling out of the way of two other TwinTails suddenly colliding mid-air, Hesper first heard a reply from Lord Manticore.

“Why don’t you join us?” his gruff voice said over the comm.

Hesper smirked and opened her mouth to reply, but then the Emperor Insipid spoke over another channel: “The Senate Chamber.” Hesper’s heart gave a leap. “Fly in; Kill the Senators and the Moffs. Wipe out the Galactic Alliance and Empire once and for all.”

At this, Hesper grinned, a smile full of gleeful malice and chaos. “With pleasure, my Emperor,” she crooned into the comm. Switching off the comm channel, she said to herself in a rough voice, “Time to pay my old clientele a little... visit.”

Many of the Senators and Moffs had regularly commissioned her for bronzium sculptures of their narcissistic, corrupted selves when Hesper had gone by her birth name and was a young, successful sculptor in upper-level Coruscant. Once called Théa, Hesper had hobnobbed with nearly all the galaxy’s most influential leaders and attended more gallery openings, operas, and dinner parties than she cared to count. It was how she had come to make a living on Coruscant, of course, and because of her appearance at so many events, she had carved out a niche of Holo popularity that she had never anticipated. Oh, how she had resented the media play, and all those Moffs and Senators who so willingly joined in the game.

And now, here was her golden chance! To get back at all the Senators, Moffs, aides, and other military personnel who had praised her work in all kinds of publications and HoloNet programs, only to turn around and throw her to savage media dogs with vicious public ridicule after the acci… after the… the—

Hesper buried the thought with a sudden, venomous laugh. They would all die. She then weighed her options for getting into the Senate Building—the roof was nigh on impossible to get through at the moment, which meant then that her best option would be to fly straight through the front plaza, in through the transparent front doors and straight into the Senate, TwinTail and all. Hesper braced herself for the wild flying, then pushed the TwinTail into a fairly steep dive, angling towards the Senate building. She was still quite a ways away. Flying so low that she had to weave through Coruscant’s multitude of skyscrapers, Hesper darted closer still to the Senate Building, urging her little fighter faster and faster still. The building she whizzed past were all too familiar.

Then, Hesper was right on the Senate, rushing right at its front. Petite hands quick over the controls, Hesper adjusted the TwinTail to brace for impact. She brought the TwinTail as close to the ground as she could without crashing, skimming the duracrete plaza outside the Senate Building, threading herself between the two long rows of statues.

As she hurtled towards the rotunda, she just barely passed over Titus’ messy crash. Hesper spared a fleeting glance at the wreck, taking note of it all; especially General Venn Mohc, menacingly making his way to Titus, who was buried within the wreckage. Hesper's gut tightened. There was no way Mohc wouldn’t have seen her zoom overhead—even though she was in a Jedi ship, she couldn’t shake the worry that Mohc would come after her and ruin her chances of success in her mission, if Titus weren’t able to stop the General. Hesper let out a tense breath from between her teeth.

And then—impact. Glass exploded around the TwinTail as it burst through the front doors. Gritting her teeth, Hesper banked left, hard, all the while slamming the brakes and adjusting everything she could to ease her speed. The fighter made jarring contact with the glossy floor, and Hesper fought to control its skid, bringing it to a violent halt against a corridor wall. Groaning, Hesper popped the canopy and nimbly, if not a little stiffly, vaulted from the cockpit, discarding her helmet and tossing it back into the smoking TwinTail. She quickly assessed the TwinTail—she would definitely need another ride out of the Senate once it was all over.

Hesper lifted her head to study the corridor she “landed” in, turning quickly on her heel. What security troops there were were utterly scattered, sprinting this way and that in small groups. Automatically, Hesper reached for her lightsaber on her belt—then stopped short. The corner of her mouth twitching into a smirk, Hesper reached instead under her coat and for the small of her back. Tenderly, her fingers brushed over the familiar ridges of Naren’s lightsaber, clipped just below the dead Tobias Sun’s. Naren, her Jedi husband whom she had loved to death. She unclipped it and held it in her palm for a moment before fastening her Sith blade that was hanging from her belt into the empty spot against the small of her back, out of sight. She hefted her husband’s saber. It was heavy, built for a stronger, broader man; built by a man whose rough hands Hesper had once been all too familiar with. Nonetheless, she curled her small fingers around its hilt and ignited the blade. The sapphire blue blade snapped and hissed at a deep pitch, and Hesper gazed upon it with an unreadable emotion. Hopefully, the lightsaber would cover her identity as a Sith, regardless that she had just crashed-landed a Jedi fighter.

With purpose, Hesper hustled down the corridor, past frenzied troops and guards. She marched with bated breath—as of yet, no one had given her more than a second glance. Warily, she peered into the Force, and locked onto the presence of the Moffs and Senators, all spirited away for their safety. Hesper tightened her grip on Naren’s blade. Now it all began.

TAG: Sinrebirth, greyjedi125, Darth Master Titus, Snokers, anyone else I may have missed?

 

IC: Darth Anark

Senate Building



Anark let out a grunt as he was hauled into what appeared to be some sort of panic room within the Empress's chambers by the two imperial knights. Still blindfolded, an echo of the Empresses words reverberated through his mind...

"The Empire will pardon you for your crimes."

And his crimes were many, from petty theft to serial murder.

And suddenly, a voice came, audible to his ears...

Take it! Take her offer and bring down the Triumvirate! your alliance with the Empress will be temporary, then we will unseat her majesty and take Coruscant.

Dreadwar?

No, this voice had not come to him through the Force but it was very distinct, menacing and aggressive, a sharp headache accompanied it which caused the saliva inside his mouth to heat up bringing on nausea which was worsened by the blind sensation of the Imperial Knights dragging him down a steep set of stairs. Down and down the three of them went.

Tell them what they want to hear... DO IT!

"NO!" Anark said aloud.

One of his captors, the one to his left replied as they continued to descend the steps.

"No what? what are you moaning about, scum?"

Anark hesitated, drunk with confusion and intrigue as the voice in his head was silenced and the headache instantly subsided as if it had never been there at all.

"Nothing... I mean, I... you need to take this blindfold off, I'm getting motion sickness from you two bumping into me like ping pong balls."

This was met with an abrupt halt in their descent and the heavy blow of an elbow into Anarks gut. He doubled over but was caught by two sets of hands at either side, winded he regained his composure and smirked into the darkness of the blindfold when it was suddenly whipped off and he could see again. He looked both of his captors in the eye.

"Boys... if you'd like to look away for a moment, there's something that's been bothering me since that foolish woman cracked me across the jaw. This will be vulgar."

They both maintained their gaze on him.

"Very Well." Anark tilted his head back, swirled his tongue inside his mouth and spat, projecting a single tooth accompanied by a thick trail of blood which flew past the Knights and began its own descent down the stairwell, clinking as it went.

"Are you quite done?" one of them asked, stonefaced.

Anark smirked once more and a long, loud exhale escaped him.

"Quite!"

None of the three could say anything more nor continue their descent before a loud crash erupted somewhere not too far above them followed swiftly by a tremor which brought a small trail of dust upon each of their heads. Anark knew the presence he felt accompanying that ruckus and it filled him with a sort of dark delight...

Hesper!

He felt his fight or flight instincts kick in and with a rush of adrenaline and a minuscule chance of success on his side he took advantage of the momentary distraction the Lady had provided with her... dramatic entrance and motioned with his hands mustering up a small force push to bring the two Knight's heads clanging against one another and pulled himself backward over the railing, unintentionally letting out a laugh that would haunt even him. He reached the bottom after a few seconds and felt a crack in his right ankle. He looked up to see his enemies leaning over the railing several meters above with irritated expressions, they began to sprint down the stairs.

"Until next time!" He taunted at them cupping both hands around his mouth to project his voice.

He had no idea where he was and his lightsaber had been taken back up there during his encounter with the Empress.

He ran in the only direction he could down a long, narrow corridor and tried to establish a link to Insipid to make him aware of his whereabouts as he put one determined foot in front of another, panting and sweating through the pain in his ankle. Whether Insipid cared amidst everything else that was happening was another matter.

This is bad. He thought.

​

TAG: Sinrebirth greyjedi125 corinthia and anyone else in the vicinity of the building...​

 

Combo with Sinrebirth
IC: Master Rasi Tumm
Temple, Coruscant

The old Cathar master could feel that war had come to Coruscant, without consulting the holo screens. It ripped through the populace of a planet still scarred from events of a decade ago.

And now, Tumm could feel the dark side active within the temple walls. Rozic must have escaped.

He scowled. He had students to protect, but he could not protect them if the Temple fell. 'Students, listen to me. You must flee to the depths - to the sewers.'

He could not bid them much more. With his lightsaber to hand, he bid himself rush forward... His sense drew him towards... The shield generator?

The room itself was empty, but close by the prisoner barracks. Rozic would have moments to adjust the settings before the Jedi Master arrived. Rasi Tumm was another veteran of the Sith-Imperial Wars... Rozic would be outmatched if he was caught unaware.

---------------------------

IC: Darth Rozic
Hallway 12B, Jedi Temple, Coruscant

Rozic sprinted down the hallway. His bounty hunter "friend" had already deactivated security and exited the temple via the air ducts. Still even without alarms Rozic wasn't completely safe from detection. He sensed someone powerful in the force nearby, and they sensed him.

Rozic finally made it to the primary shield generator. The room was abandoned as he expected. The Darth sat down in front of a computer terminal and started play with buttons and switches.
Western Shields: 100%
Eastern Shields: 100%
Southern Shields: 100%
Northern Shields: 100%
Backup Shields: 100%

Warning: It is not wise to over power shields. 75% power is recommended to prevent over heating and combustion.

Rozic grinned. The power cells were located near the foundations (or so the blueprints say) so by over whelming the shields it should over heat and destroy the cells hence damaging the foundations and making the temple collapse.

Darth Rozic could already hear the crackling of the shields. Then the ground began to vibrate. One of the power cells had already exploded. Then suddenly and swiftly a glowing blade of pure energy sliced off his right arm. He jumped away and started spinting. What just happened? Rozic thought. Bits of plaster from the ceiling began falling down and the ground was trembling. Then the pain kicked in. Burning and stinging Rozic couldn't handle the pain, he then collapsed.

An old Cathar with a lightsaber in hand came towards him. Rozic was out classed.

Rasi Tumm loomed over the Sith. 'Darth Rozic. We kept you here as the safest place in the Galaxy. Not for us; but for you. To save you from yourself.' The Cathar was disappointed, more than anything. 'In our moment of weakness you have acted poorly. I would request you return to your cell, and wait out the battle.'

His voice was firm. 'But not before providing the identity of your hunter friend and the codes for your Emperor's channel. Now.'

Rozic replied simply with 'You've got to be kidding'. He chuckled and regained his stance, just to fall once the ground began to crack. Another cell.
'Give up boy. I don't want to hurt you more' replied the Jedi Master.
But Rozic wasn't one to give up. Using his good arm he grabbed hold of a wall light and managed to stand up. He realised that inside the Cathars robes were his lightsabers. I need them. So Rozic extended his left arm and force pulled his weapons towards him. He then activated his blades and prepared for battle.

WAIT WHAT? I have a right arm, but how? Rozic thought. The arm was pure darkness, black with orange cracks. Just like Darth Karanain- the man of his visions, the one that taught him most of what he knows- but how?

Tumm frowned and drew his blade to hand. It wasn't the power of Rozic's action which concerned him; it was the fact that he could at all. The Cathar master turned to the crack in the ground, scowling and realising, belatedly, that he had focused on Rozic and not the real threat.

For that terrible moment he was very, very exposed.




　



Rozic saw an opportunity. He leaped over the ever growing crack in the ground and pushed forward his lightsabers. Tumm's arms were swiftly removed. The master fell to the ground as another cell exploded this time sending chunks of the roof down onto Rozic and the Cathar.
'YOU THINK YOU CAN DESTROY ME? YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A PAWN OF THE SITH' shouted Tumm. Rozic began approaching the Jedi narrowly dodging bits of the roof. He raised his right arm ready to initiate the final blow when he caught a glimpse of his arm. It seemed to have bits of burning ash coming off it, like a volcano.

Then suddenly the forth and final cell exploded making Rozic lose his balance and fall into the no massive crack. He didn't see what happened to the Jedi but he knew it couldn't be good. But now he had to worry about himself. He was in a big hole in the ground somewhere underneath the temple. And it was pitch black.

The depths of Coruscant were not a pleasant place. More so, beneath the Jedi Temple, which had been built atop a Force reservoir... Rozic fell into that cavernous space that the Jedi had secured all those millennium ago, for an almost uninterrupted period since.

There was almost no light in here, save for the light that had been spilling in through the gaps in the ceiling. But those were being blocked up as the Temple caved in. The Force sang with death; but it was not Force users, it was the staff of the Temple; the children were on the run, in the depths, even further down.

But for Rozic, he was submerged within one of the largest reservoirs of the Force. Power flooded into him, to the point that it would crush upon him, and in those depths Master Rasi Tumm, armless, would stand.

Half of his face was burned away, but the Force was propping him up, and levitating his lightsaber hilt. 'Enough,' he said, his voice echoing. In a brief flash, his golden blade burst out the wrong side of Rozic's right leg.

The Jedi Master was no longer trying to redeem Rozic.

Rozic collapsed, partly because of the pain and partly because of the amount pure force energy surrounding him.
Tumm: "You will be punished for your crimes against the Jedi Order"
Rasi had been driven insane. His eyes flashed blue and yellow and he was murmuring to himself.

Somehow Rozic gained the strength to stand. He observed his leg and saw that the area that the Cathar masters saber hit him was healed, kinda. What happened to the Siths arm had happened to his right thigh.

Tumm: "What are you? I've slayed the witches of Dathomir and seen the visions of Mortis but I've never encountered someone like you. Someone with the ability to reconstruct themselves"
Rozic: "I'm as confused as you"

Tumm and Rozic stood there blankly staring into each others eyes as dust danced around them. What Rozic didn't noticed was that Rasi Tumm was actually tearing apart the entire reservoir/cavern around them. Chunks of stone came falling down as well as some of the temple high above them.

Tumm: "If I fall so do you"

Rasi Tumm could feel it; the dark side unadulterated. It was here; but how... How could the Jedi Temple be built over a dark side font? Surely it would have been influenced by the positivity of the Jedi?

The ground rumbled beneath them, and it became apparent that something was coming from beneath. Rasi Tumm knew not what was going on; he couldn't; that a Sith Temple had been constructed in the depths of Coruscant, secretly, so as to appear nothing more than apart of the natural twists and turns of several buildings.

With the twist of ancient mechanisms, corridors formed up, structures came to, and up it went. The metal ground came together, and then it pushed up.

The tip of a Sith pyramid came up beneath their feet. Rasi Tumm didn't notice. He was focused upon the darkness churning; that he was contributing to it; that he was feeding it in his indignant reproach of Darth Rozic.

His serenity was gone; jaded over fifteen long years of warfare, of a galaxy torn asunder again and again by the Revenge of the Sith. The Jedi Temple was coming down; it would kill hundreds in the immediate area, and crash down into the depths of Coruscant and kill more besides.

Rasi Tumm reached out with the light of sacrifice, and used the vast reservoir here and pulled it all inward, to fill this cavernous bowl in the depths beneath the Jedi Temple.

Rozic would not survive this.

A voice spoke to him; Quickly; inside the Sith Temple. Hide. The darkness welled up within him and the Sith Temple responded; a doorway opened in the side of the pyramid rising from the depths.

Rozic sprinted through the temples halls. He could feel the darkness festering around him, gathering into a huge mass of evil and malice. He heard whispers in an ancient language. Hackilinia sloto myisanpoe. The Darth didn't know whether the voices were cursing him or helping him. Rozic wandered for a while, he felt safe like the dark side was protecting him.

He made his way into a large room. Vibroblades and lightsaber hilts lined the walls. Then on a dusty bench made of harshly rugged stone sat Rozic's robes, vibroblade and lightsabers. It was like they were a gift from the gods. Rozic lost his weapons whilst he was falling. Carved on the table was the words: Darth Rozic, for the destruction of the Jedi Temple and corruption of Rasi Tumm we reward with this.

Finally the Temple was destroyed. But the war wasn't over, oh no it had just begun.