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

Lord Manticore
Moraband, Sith Temple, banquet

And there he sat, thinking things were proceeding rather uneventfully; he was once again proven wrong. There was a nautolan apprentice he overheard earlier practicing Dun moch techniques on a young zeltron female.

It would appear that the nautolan somehow became the ‘ Sith Emepror’s dish of choice at the table. Lord Manticore looked on as the apprentice was levitated from her seat, then literally consumed as her essence was ripped from her now quickly decaying physical host body. The death inducing spectacle, though terrifying, perhaps for some, was an intriguing process for the zabrak sith master, who was inwardly thankful that the Dreaded Emperor was not currently in the mood for ‘zabrak’.

He had seen much death and was himself the cause of more than he himself could count. He had never seen anything quite like this before, and made a mental note to improve on his Force Defense techniques. Perhaps the secret teachings of the Great Sith Lord Tulak Hord might reveal insights as to how to defend against such terrible sorcerous powers.

It did not take long for the unlucky creature to be reduced to mere skeletal remains-and discarded as such.

The silence that followed was quite profound. Manticore could not help but smirk ever so slightly under his hooded countenance as he looked at the various reactions. The distinct tang of fear suffused the air like musk. It was quite a scent, for those who could perceive it.

Without warning, the Dreaded Lord’s sepulchral voice was heard once again inside their minds. He answered the young sith’s question now, for all to hear.

Darth Dreadwar spoke of the trials and their purpose. He was clear and to the point as he delineated several situations. Sith were needed at the Valley of the Dark Lords to deal with an ‘old power’ that needed to be dealt with.

The Sorceress at the Valley of Golg caught his interest. There he could test the efficiency of his Force Defense, and should his inspired plan bear fruit, he would have at best two items with which to bargain for the prize he truly sought. Yes, that would be most fortuitous, though it stood to reason he was not the only one in the room having similar thoughts.

It was upon hearing the name of apprentice Robyn Shaire, that his focus was drawn back to the banquet chamber and away from the Valley of Golg and it’s possible spoils. Not only was her name mentioned, but his own as well, including that of Darth Titus.

The implication the Emperor made was clear. The zeltron was without a Master and both He and Titus were without apprentices. Well, he could imagine others probably did not have apprentices either, but the Emperor had mentioned them by name.

Fiery eyes now sought the young zeltron.

A chair was empty next to her and he espied Re’van moving at her own pace in that direction.

“Ahh…..”

Perhaps the nautolan had been more than a mere appetizer after all.

The Sith Master took a moment to study the the young Robyn Shaire. She seemed to shrink in her seat. She did not seem very sithly at the moment, which made him wonder exactly why she was here. At a closer look she looked more like a….

The zabrak shook his head ever so slightly. If asked, he did not think The Dreaded Sith Lord was the jesting type, not after that display. This…this was a challenge he threw at them.

Ever so calmly, Lord Manticore turned his hooded countenance and looked in Darth Titus’ direction to see if he showed any signs of interest. One of the Sith Ladies at the head of the table, Darth Apollyon, he believed was her name, encouraged those present to socialize.

This was a good suggestion, given the stand-offish nature of distrusting Sith.

“I’m interested in the Valley of Golg.” The zabrak called out from where he sat. Why not start things off and see who would choose what mission. In the meantime, he bid his time, waiting to see how Titus would move, watching as to which mission Re’van would choose, more out of curiosity than anything else, and keenly studying Robyn, whom he now assumed was perhaps a former jedi. Just thinking the word made him wince.

The Sith Trials were going to be very different-this time around.


Tag: @Darth Master Titus, @HunterPrime, @Padawan4687, @Moonspun Dragon, @LittleDemon, @Sinrebirth, @Darth Dreadwar

 

IC- Darth Arach
Morraband, Sith Templ, Banquet

Arach waited patiently as her master's gaze focused on her, then a little further down the table. Curious, she followed his gaze in time to see a Nautolan girl being lifted from her chair.

She watched horrified and, yet, deeply fascinated, as the girl was decaying at a rapid rate right before her eyes. She knew it was Darth Dreadwar's doing. And it gave her a new healthy respect for the ancient Emperor.

The girl's corpse was flung into the corner without any consideration. Arach found herself analyzing it. She had seen her fair share of dead bodies from her home. She had even killed a few herself to protect herself and what little she had. However, she had never seen someone killed like this. She found herself in awe.

Arach came back to herself when she heard her master speak.

"All that proceeds from this moment are the Trials. The Jedi may play child's games, but we are Sith. Your trials shall be to advance our Empire's interests on the field of battle and to advance our interests here on Korriban."

Satisfied with her answer, Arach inclined her head.

There was a brief pause as slaves exchanged the empty plates with bowls of dessert. Then Darth Dreadwar continued on to state two missions.

When he was finished, there was another momentary pause before a female Sith, whose name Arach understood to be
Apollyon, spoke, urging her fellow Sith to be social. Arach couldn't help but smirk a little with amusement. Who are we? Jedi?

But her thoughts turned back to the two missions. The first one stated caught her interest and curiosity the most.

She had decided to join this mission and was about to state her intentions when Darth Haretisch spoke, "You send them to their deaths, Emperor. No simple apprentice, master, or any number of either will subdue the Taral. Nor will they sate his hunger."

Arach slightly raised an eyebrow at Lord Haretisch's statement. "Forgive me, my Lord, but do not all these quests have a high chance for failure and certain death?"

Tag: Everyone at the Banquet

 

IC: Mindless Draconis
Location: Lower Valley of the Dark Lords; Moraband (Korriban)

Consumed by a mindless rage, Draconis reached back recoiling as he amassed a dark energy to deliver the final blow to the darksider who was so foolish to have struck at him earlier. The sound of a swirling pulse of hate filled energy amassed and swirled around Draconis' hands as he recoiled back ready to launch and drive the ball of darkness through the very skull of the fool. So mindlessly enraged and seething with hate was Draconis, that this ravenous lust for blood permeated everything currently. Nothing it would seem would break either of them out of this trance of destruction.

The swirl of debris and dust filled the air as a great gust of wind, forced itself over the valley drowning the area in a dark rush of the force. Neither of the two engaged darksiders, having mere moments before been hellbent on each other evisceration, initially sensed the emergence of the dark spirits that emerged from the vortex of wind and energy. Opposite of both of the darksiders were now two spectral force energies, these dark energies desperately clung to existence having taken the forms of what were no doubts shells of their former being selves.
Draconis' attention was drawn away from his initial target that he had been on the brink of unleashing death upon. He paused at the site of the new dark forms before them, his head turning slowly to view the one opposite of him. His peripheral vision saw the other an almost mirror image opposite both of them gesturing and spouting forth an invitation.

"Cooome with usssss. They hissed in unnerving unison. "See the awakened" They howled. "It does not die. It does not live." The voices now increased to a bellow. "SUBMIT TO ME. BECOME ONE WITH US AND DO MY WILL."

The words bellowed forth from the two dark spirits filled with hate and yearning to be released from their hell. Had Draconis been of any of his normal right mind. He would have found the whole exchange quite amusing, perhaps offering a playful smirk at the thought of such beings entertaining the idea that either of the two darksiders would willingly submitting to anything or any being. Spirit or living. In truth the words were not lost on Draconis by any means he easily understood them, as fantastically insensicle as they were. However so entranced was he that they fell to the wayside.

Instead Draconis stood facing now towards the spectral energy, the only thing that had changed was that the mindless rage that ensnared him was now focused on this new target. To an observer he would seem almost bewildered, staring mindlessly into a void. So much that Draconis' arm had fallen to his side relaxed with his hand barley clenched in its former action. The dark ball of energy through sheer unconscious mastery and willpower over the force swirled around his hand and lower arm, despite the fact that it seemed as if he had totally forgotten about it. As if it was in stasis, paused for the moment until called upon.

The darkside spirit lashed out, striking down on the mindless Draconis. Instantaneously Draconis cocked his arm back fluidly and deftly moving into a swift movement as his body shifted ever so slightly with purpose. The swirling rage within him traveled down into the already powerful ball of dark hatred. The ball of energy lit up like a seering ball of flame with a suddenly infused dark energy that fueled it even further. Everything flowed and in one swift motion he swung upwards with the dark energy, rocketing it up directly at the chest of the striking spirit.


@Mikaboshi Darth_wanderguard Darth Dreadwar

 

Darth Titus
Moraband, Sith Temple, Banquet

As Darth Dreadwar proclaimed the need of a Master for Robyn Shaire, he named two Sith in particular. Titus, and the Zabrak Sith. Feeling unsure of himself and not ready to be a Master, Titus avoided Dreadwar's and Robyn's eyes. Titus felt all too young and unproved to accept such a thing. He could feel Lord Manticore's graze on him, trying to determine how interested I was in taking on an apprentice. He wanted it, but now was not the right time to take on an apprentice.

Titus raised his head and turned to look in Manticore's direction. Once he caught the Sith Lord's attention, Titus subtly shook his head once to show his unwillingness to take on an apprentice just yet. The young Sith Lord felt some dissatisfaction with himself knowing his former Master Dreadwar would disapprove of his rejection of the young Sith woman. Titus knew he would have to prove himself in upcoming missions that he is worthy to be a Sith Lord.

Tag: greyjedi125, Darth Dreadwar, and Every One at Banquet

 

IC: Re'van
Sith Temple - Main banquet chambers, Moraband

As Re'van moved towards one side of the massive table after paying respects, Re'van's attention was indeed gained, when a Nautolan was suddenly hoisted into the air, the chair she had sat in, flying backwards in a screech. Re'van froze, as the air within the room grew thick of the power of the Darkness, so heavy it was palatible, to those so tuned to such things. It was quite lovely, to feel such a flow of power. Such exquisite use of the Force. Re'van's eyes flickered about the room, but from the strength of it, Re'van did not need to know who was responsible, even if she did not know the name of the being. The Nautolan woman made a wretched noise, her eyes bulging in disbelief as her skin paled and cracked with wrinkles, her form turning lifeless in mere seconds. Re'van gave a slight raise of the eyebrow. The room seemed to ripple and darken, as arcane dark forces ripped into the younger Sith. Re'van's eyes grew sharp within the confines of her deep hood. The Soul Crush, in the arcane tounge. It was a rare ability. Re'van had read upon such a thing, but had never seen it performed.

Until now.

Fascinated, Re'van watched with dark relishmenet as life fled from the withered husk, soon, nothing more than a skeletal corpse reamined. With a hissing laugh, the Dark Lord flicked the lifeless thing away from the table, hurling it to the wall on the right of the hall. Immediately, Re'van felt varried reactions from the many assembled persons, including a few feeling of revulsion from someone close. But before she could pinpoint who it was, a voice powerful and strong whispered into her mind.

Welcome, little shadow. Long has your coming been foretold. Be grateful you may be the one of vision... that your tardiness did not mean you were laid unto the dust. Now... Take a seat, young Re'van.

Re'van blinked. It was as if she had no defensives whatsoever, as the soft but deadly voice seeped its way into her thoughts. Another blink, and Re'van continued taking steady steps, this time towards the 'offered' chair, her mind ablaze with thoughts, though none of them had to do with the death she had just witnessed. Death, was something she had seen before, though nothing quite that spectacular. But no, this time, what held her thoughts was the words the Dark Lord had spoken to her. It was much, to take into account. But her own thoughts would have to wait, as the Dark Lord spoke aloud now to those assembled. "All that proceeds from this moment are the Trials," he replied to the previously question. "The Jedi may play child's games, but we are Sith. Your trials shall be to advance our Empire's interests on the field of battle," a gauntleted hand rose vaguely towards the Sith who spoke earlier, "and to advance our interests here on Korriban." The Dark Lord paused, as plates were withdrawn by the hands of slaves that bustled up to the table, laying down bowls of dessert in their place. Re'van sat carefully, looking towards each person nearest to her, as she sat down slowly, and then turned her attention fully towards the head of the table. The Dark Lord then described several opportunities available that the assembled Sith could chose, in order to remove a certain threat. Three in all. The one about a possible sorceress and her fortress did manage to catch Re'van's interests somewhat. It was similar to a task assigned to her long ago. Something she could wet her appatite with. Though she was somewhat dissapointed in the second half of the task. "I will expect a small band of apprentices and Masters to return her fortress to the sands whence it came... and relieve her of her head, as well as the two artifacts in her blasphemous possession: the Heart and the Helm of Graush." Re'van was hoping to find something she could herself keep. After all, a sorcoress should have the types of interests, that she would find of interest. But perhaps, there would be other trinkets there, that could prove useful. Then the Dark Lord mentioned some new apprentices who were in need of a Master. And then Re'van noted that Lord Manticore and another were mentioned by name. Re'van looked down the table, at the assmebled Sith. "Now, please," a bit of a pause, "Attend to dessert." A spectral hand waved in dismissal.

Another female Sith waited a few moments, before filling in the silence, her voice a sharp contrast from the raspy voice spoken just moments earlier. "My friends, speak to your Masters, to your fellows, to your apprentices, think on what His Highness has said. When this feast is concluded shortly, I encourage you to prepare. In the meanwhile... Take the initiative, get to know your fellow Sith." A series of expressions and looks were silently passed before she continued on. "Express your thoughts as to which mission your skills are best suited to, do not fear to ask questions," she smiled, then, with a gentle touch of humour. "Socialize."

Re'van smiled.


Tag: Darth Master Titus, Padawan4687, Moonspun Dragon, LittleDemon, Sinrebirth, Darth Dreadwar, dragonsith13, greyjedi125, Moonspun Dragon, Shira A'dola, Admiral Volshe
and any others I may have missed.

 

Lord Manticore
Moraband, Sith Temple

Darth Titus shook his head just so, signaling that he had no interest in the would-be sith apprentice. Lord Manticore nodded once at his fellow sith, acknowledging his decision. Perhaps Titus sensed that the young female might not last as a sith apprentice. Truth be told, without precognitive talents, there was no way to be sure. He had seen some surprising transformations while on missions. Dire situations had a way of forcing sentient beings to evolve and adapt. Perhaps the same was true for young Robyn Shaire.

If she proved to be unworthy of the sith name, then she would die. It was a rather simple equation; culling the ranks as it were. Death would be the price for wasting the zabrak master’s time.

Darth Insipid spoke now as the zabrak thought over his decision, which was yet to be finalized.

“Any of those whom wish to join me at Relus, come with me to the library.”

Seeing a smile on any sith was always..strange…as far as the zabrak was concerned. It bespoke of subterfuge in his eyes. Hmm. There was merit there, he supposed, but that was not an area he had much talent in. The smiling, that is. Subterfuge was fine, for it was a tool of the sith.

The shrouded form of Lord Manticore rose from the banquet table, head still covered by his hood. He bowed to the seated members of the sith triumvirate, Dark Lord Haretisch and Emperor Dreadwar, but remained where he stood for a moment longer. He watched as Darth Insipid exited the banquet chamber and lead the procession towards the sith library. Manticore waited, his eyes, which always burned like embers, sought the form of Robyn Shaire. He beheld her with an openly scrutinizing gaze, eyes squinting slightly, his expression unreadable.

After she had passed, he followed several paces behind. His eyes never leaving her. Studying her. Sensing with the darkside of the force.

Eventually, the small band made it to the sith library. Upon entering , Darth Insipid could be seen cross-legged and in meditation.

It did feel like a very long time since the zabrak had visited the sith library. The sense of its vast repository of knowledge came flooding back to him as he allowed himself to glance at the rows of rolled parchment and bound tomes. Once his roving eyes returned to Darth Insipid, he froze, as if suddenly paralyzed.

There, among the twelve pedestals….was that….!!??

He had studied the markings, he knew the sigils and the sith glyphs written upon the face of its dark exterior, but he had not expected to actually see it recovered.

Tulak Hord’s Holocron!!

It was by sheer will of power and self-discipline that the Sith master was able to keep his composure. His mind threatened to race, but he forced himself to keep focused and stay in the moment. Relus, this is why he was here. That, and Robyn Shaire. She who needed to be turned into a worthy sith.

Slowly, the zabrak's head turned and his gaze once again found the would-be apprentice. Manticore allowed her to catch his gaze if she dared, then stepped back until he was outside her peripheral vision.

The first order of things was to see what Darth Insipid required of them. Once those things were clearly understood, he could return his focus to the matter of whether or not young Robyn would become his apprentice.

Tulak Hord’s holocron was not going anywhere. He could stand to put off his thirst for its knowledge, just a little longer.


Tag: @Padawan4687 @HunterPrime @Darth Master Titus @dragonsith13

 

IC: Robyn Shaire
Moraband Dining Hall, en route to library

Once the rolling feeling in her stomach began to pass over, Robyn made a weak attempt to look at her served desert, a generous slice of Jogan fruit cake. She glanced down at her still shaky stomach with a faintly mournful expression, it had been her absolute weakness as a youngling…! Urgh, it feels wrong so soon after…that, she thought, glaring down at the pastry. No, wait…it’s not the cake, it’s something else that feels wrong!

Someone was watching her, and it definitely wasn’t another apprentice. Robyn slowly let her eyes drag across the table while lifting a forkful of cake to her mouth. Red eyes locked with red embers, and Robyn instantly looked away. Who was that?! She couldn’t even see a face, it was shrouded in a hood… This wasn’t a coincidental glance, she was being examined like a specimen under a microscope!

She considered staring back, but quickly decided against it. Even risking some other form of wrath from a Sith Lord was out of the question! After a moment’s pause she glanced his way again, and noticed him looking elsewhere. Her relief was short-lived, because she caught the feeling of a new aura taking hold. No! What did I do?! Her burst of panic came and went even quicker than her relief, because the aura just brushed against her chin.

“…” Robyn curiously allowed her head to move alongside the stream of Force energy only to lock eyes with Sith Lord Insipid! His gaze didn’t have the same searching look as the Sith from before, and a single word came through to her mind, a command: Come.

Mental defenses, what are those? she allowed the sarcastic thought as she obediently stood up from the table. After casting a brief and almost rueful look at the unfinished cake, she began to walk to where the Lord beckoned. It felt like every eye was on her, the lone child in the small gathering of otherwise powerful Sith… Breathe…I can be scared, I just can’t let them know that… Setting her jaw, Robyn straightened her back and made her way to the end of the table with tightened fists. She halted to give a deep bow before the still seated Dark Lords at the front of the table, and continued following the trail of dark energy that Lord Insipid left in his wake.

The back of her head suddenly began to burn, and Robyn lowered her head to silence the temptation to glare at the Sith behind her. She had passed him by at the table, and couldn’t read the expression in his fiery eyes. He must be one of the Sith that Lord Dreadwar mentioned… either Lord Manticore, or Lord Titus. At least she had come close enough to see he was a Zabrak though. I’m not sure if I should be proud, or terrified if I caught his attention so fast! Force, his staring is getting creepy…

I know you aren’t mute, she thought, shutting her eyes in growing irritation, are you going to speak, or just keep attempting to cast fire to my hair? She immediately silenced herself with the realization that he could probably, actually do that. Finally, his burning stare moved somewhere else, and Robyn could breathe a bit easier.

“Force…” her voice was little more than a faint whisper, and she craned her neck while working to take in this vast library. Scrolls of parchment, leather-bound books and data pads lined the walls, Robyn couldn’t even imagine how old some of them might be. She was tempted to ask Lord Dreadwar if he had authored any of them, when a sharp blast of emotion struck her from behind. She could identify shock, and something else… —a fanatical happiness? — before the entire spectrum was hidden away, just as quickly as it arrived. Robyn turned to face him for a moment, before receiving another jolt. Their eyes were locked again, argh!

Enough with this staring contest! she mentally shouted, straightening up again. Calling on all of her nerve, she kept pace with his gaze and fought fire with “fire”. Finally, he stepped back out of her field of vision…satisfied, hopefully? With a slow breath, she gave the seated Lord Insipid her full attention. He seemed to be in meditation, a far cry from the “drunken” display at the table… What did he want the three of them to do?



TAG: greyjedi125, HunterPrime, Darth Master Titus, dragonsith13

 

A Man in the Mountains
Korriban

Darth Ventris. It was a name the man hadn’t been called in a long time. Though, he hadn’t been called anything in a long time. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure the title meant anything anymore. As the man regarded the two acolytes that had been offered to him, probing subtly at their minds, he considered that he knew next to nothing of this new Sith Order. It had been many years since he had lived among them; since he had lead them. And Sith changed as often as the setting sun.

The two acolytes had their lightsabers in their hands, though neither had ignited them. Foolish children. Even a split second, could be the difference between life and death. These acolytes did not know battle. They would. The man released his grip on his staff and both of his arms shot up. Before either of the acolytes could even blink, he slammed one against the wall and held him, pushing down against his chest. He lifted the other by his throat, and hung him over the cliffside, applying steady, but light pressure.

“Who must you have angered, to be sentenced so?” His voice would cut over the wind like a knife. He spoke directly into their heads. “I could feel your fear from the summit of my mountain. You both are weak. Undeserving. You are not Sith. That is why you were sacrificed at my altar. That is why you were a bargaining chip for my favor.”

The man walked between the two acolytes and brought his hanging victim back over the safety of the stairs. As he passed the pair, he released their holds. His staff was still standing where he had left it. With a turn of his palm, it slowly levitated to his outstretched hand. The man continued, “You stand at the precipice, my sons. Both literally and figuratively. You have been deemed unworthy by your betters. But at this critical moment, I offer one of you the chance for salvation.”

The man turned and began his walk down the mountain. Over his shoulder he said, in that piercing voice, “Only one of you leaves this mountain.”

He didn’t wait to see the outcome of his challenge. He didn’t particularly care. The one who survived would be stronger for it, and if they fled together, the Sith would be stronger for it. His mind was on this invitation. Steadily he descended, once more Darth Ventris.

Tag: Darth Dreadwar

 

OOC: The Library thread is up in Resource. For extended character backstory, descriptions of personal ships, short stories, flashbacks, continuity notes and articles, and more. Go nuts!

 

Darth Titus
Moraband, Sith Temple

Lord Manticore acknowledged Titus' rejection of the young woman Robyn Shaire with a nod of the head. It was time he stopped feeling self-pity for not taking on an apprentice. He was young, and he was unproven in his eyes. Unworthy until proven worthy, Titus would tell himself. Then, Lord Insipid arose from his seat at the side of Lord Dreadwar and swiftly made his way to the library. No demands were needed, the others knew to follow.

On the way to the library, Titus could feel the ever growing tension within Robyn. By the second, she was growing ever more impatient with Manticore, his gaze looking straight into her soul it seemed. Titus became amused at this. He silently chucked to himself, sensing Robyn's discomfort. How funny was this pair going to be. As they began to enter the library, Lord Insipid was awaiting them.

What Titus saw next amazed him. 12 Sith holocrons. Never had he been so close to one, he could feel their pull immediately. Titus knew he was not alone in amazement as he felt Manticore become extremely interested in one particular holocron. The holocron that Titus was most interested in was that of Darth Bane's. He craved to study his holocron. He had only heard stories of his history through hearsay. He wanted to learn all he could from such a revered Sith. Now Titus began to empathize with how Lord Manticore felt. Such great lessons were waiting to be taught in this library, so much history and knowledge meant to be had. Titus would soon learn all there is to know of Darth Bane. But first, Relus.

Tag: greyjedi125, Padawan4687, Sinrebirth, Darth Dreadwar

 

IC: Re'van
Sith Temple - Main banquet chambers, Moraband

As Re'van looked down at the desert placed in front of her, the female Sith had asked the assembled body of Sith to "Socialize." “I’m interested in the Valley of Golg.” Lord Manticore called out from where he sat. Well, that didnt take long. But the woman had barely spoke the words, when the one who had spoke out some sort of invasion of what she guessed to be possible Jedi, suddenly stood up, and headed out of the chambers, presumably for the library. The man, who's name she did not yet know, turned at looked towards her. A hint, with perhaps something more flickered there for a moment, before he continued on. Re'van clamped her jaws together, only slightly tilting her head, as she looked from him, to Lord Manticore, who was already moving as well. That was interesting. Had he not just spoke out about being interested in the Valley of Golg? She turned her attention back to the table. Such interesting desert choices. And such a potential for something more. An attack on Relus. An army of apprentices and master wanted for a battle within the Valley of the Dark Lord. And then the sorceress, within a fortress in the wastes by the Valley of Golg. A supposed relic of a bygone age. Obviously, not so much a 'relic' if she was deemed something that needed to be delt with. And she beheld that it did indeed have something more to do, than simply retrieving two items. Three, if you counted her head. Last time, Re'van had been promised a reward for her assistance, and its promise never fulfilled. She would make sure that did not happen again. She noted the Sith took his leave, after speaking with one of the people standing behind the tables, in the areas with the slaves. And with a gesture, he was gone, leaving an unmistakable wake in the Force for them all to follow. Re'van remained in her seat, her face conveying a stoic expression, as she moved to taste her desert. She was not a dog to be hearkened to beck and call. Of course, to those who command and proved themselves worthy of a certain respect, that was one of course, something they had earned. But she did not know him. And to supposed that THAT particular mission was something that should garner her interests, or her skills. No. She never had been one to consider going into a Slavic response, because of a possible hint of 'Jedi', was to somehow make the mission much more appealing, she had never played into. There were better ways to deal with Jedi. Though, there was nothing wrong with the direct approach either, if one was resourceful. Re'van could feel a bit, for the young apprentice who had such strong emotions through the force earlier, as suddenly her head came up. The briefest of looks played across her young features, and then she stood, leaving her cake half-eaten, to follow the others suddenly. Re'van could only imagine the pull the young apprentice was probably feeling right now. And with a half chuckle, Re'van noted that Lord Manticore was all but staring his way through the young girl, possibly in an effort of sizing her up as a possible apprentice.

Re'van took a bit of the desert. Exquisite. She continued to eat, as she mulled the thought more in her mind, about the wastelands, and the supposed sorceress. Yes. That task would possibly take a bit of finesse, if what was said about the woman was true. It was a bit annoying how at the very beginning, they were already being tasked to split up and choose a thing. It would have been interesting, to see how this new Sith order worked together for a change. She understood it was indeed a trial, but it separated them, before they bespoke a chance to learn of the others assembled. Or indeed, If they could even work together as a cohesive group. But again, these were Sith. There would always be those, who moved to climb to the top of the pack, even if that meant ridding themselves of a few pack members to do it. It was the in-fighting that had driven her away last time. But this time, the call had felt different. Not just in power, no that was too simple to describe it. This time, it simply held more promise, than the last call she had felt. Something had changed. Perhaps it was the fact that Triumvirates sat in the high seat, instead of one. She was not sure. It was the question that called her here. To understand that change, and per chance, gleam some bit of knowledge from it. And of course, the words of 'his Highness' still rang within her mind. Re'van finished her desert and looked about her once more. So far, no other Sith had moved or spoken aloud since the request to 'socialize'. Except for the few that had left moments earlier, none had spoken or moved. Re'van stood up, pushing the plate away from her. From underneath her hood, she nodded her head slightly as she spoke.

"Dark Gazings, assembled Sith." Re'van pushed back her hood, showing her face, along with the many markings that covered it. She used an old form of address. "I am Re'van." She scanned the long table to those seated around her. "Some of you may know me, but many do not, as it has been quite a while since I last moved within these temple halls. But I have put good use the time I was away, studying the Elder tomes. And now, while I do seek to know more of you, I speak now of the missions mentioned earlier." Re'van paused for a moment, then continued. "I seek those who may be interested in dealing with the situation in the Valley of Golg. Those of like mind, after the fine festivities are concluded, I would most certainly be interested in speaking with you to learn more." With that, Re'van took her seat once more, the enjoy the drink now in front of her as well.




Tag: Darth Master Titus, Padawan4687, Moonspun Dragon, LittleDemon, Sinrebirth, Darth Dreadwar, dragonsith13, greyjedi125, Moonspun Dragon, Shira A'dola, Admiral Volshe and any others I may have missed.

 

1. Name: Scaria Astraljunker- Darth Shus
   Age: 19
   Sex: Female
   Species: Human
   Occupation: Sith Apprentice
   Height: 5ft 5
   Weight: 7 stones
   Physical Description: Black Mohawk. Scar across her face, eye patch from an injury. Dark skin. Dark Brown eyes.
   Clothing: Traditional black armour plates, and shoulder plates. Tight black leather top and bottoms.
   Weapons: Red Lightsaber. Two laser guns for backup.
   Description of Abilities: Very flexible. Very fast runner and highly trained in parkour.
   Bio: Born on Plexis, from the Core Worlds, she had heard of the fights between the Jedi and the Sith. She was not much interested in the Jedi, and she was always interested in power. Her mother and father had wanted her to become a Jedi Knight, but she had other plans.
   She then followed her dreams and ambitions until one day she was caught up in the middle of the battle between a Jedi Knight and a Sith Master. The Jedi was overpowering the Sith Master when she had an outburst of force causing the Jedi to crash back.
   The Sith Master then took her in. And she became an apprentice.
   Rank/Level: Level 1 Sith Apprentice
   Class: Assassin
   Skills:
   
   Force Push/Pull - 1
   Force choke - 1
   Force Lightning - 1
   Form I - 1
   Form II -
2. Form IV
3. Force Cloak - 1
   Form III - 1

It seems that it has been approved. If I am allowed, I shall try to be ready to play.

 

Mid-day. Southern Village, Makatak

~The eyes of the children see no wrong. Ignorant bliss envelopes them as they enjoy fun and games, laughing and smiling. The women of the village tend to their homes while keeping a loose eye on the children. The men of the village are the first to notice something about this day is off: the light in the sky appears to be slipping away much earlier this particular evening.

A male villager of middle age, lean and muscular, brings a hand up to his forehead to shield his eyes from what light remains, gazing up to the skies above him. He squints to see through the canopy of trees and sees the rays of the light in the sky are streaming out from behind something massive within the sky. He is startled at first, but does not call out to the others. Instead he runs up and begins climbing to get a better vantage point.
He ascends quickly through the trees above, traversing the thick branches expertly until he is halfway to the top. He stops for a moment to catch his breath when his ears are assaulted by the thundering sound of something crashing through the atmosphere. The sound is thunderous, causing him to lose his balance for a moment. He falls downward, but catches himself on a massive branch, gripping it tightly.

Suddenly, the violent sound of cracking fills the air. The canopies above him are literally being smashed to pieces by incoming objects. The smashing and splintering is happening all around him. He whips his head around in every direction he possibly can to see what is happening, but he can't make it out. It happens so quickly.

*SMASH*

The branch he grips is suddenly snapped, separated from the tree due to the impact of the falling object. He tries desperately to grip to something, however his efforts are in vain. He careens to the forest floor, his body slaps the ground with a sickening *splissh*.

Foreign craft dig themselves into the ground, the panels of the oddly shaped crafts pop off and shambling masses of putrid death begin to fill the forest floor, infesting it faster than Jawas scramble for scrap. The waves of undead beings stumble at first, some fall or trip over the thick roots of the trees that cover the planet. However, the beings begin to gain momentum and the shambling bodies begin to walk briskly before breaking into a full sprint toward the village of unsuspecting souls.

The bright eyes of the children fade faster than a falling star as they are suddenly scooped up the arms of their mothers. Screams of panic and fear fill the air as the people of the village drop everything they're doing and begin to run. Children cry and hold out their arms to be picked up by an adult or adolescent who is moving faster than their small legs can possibly take them.
The vomit spewing corpses with sickly glowing eyes begin taking victims by the handful, overwhelming those brave enough to stay. One such villager attempts to fight, shielding his wife and child. He turns to take a wild swing at the face of one the abominations, the fingers of his hand are met with the decaying, rotting flesh of the undead but the blow does nothing. Instead the creature lunges forth, breaking the fingers and ripping the nails from the man's hand. His agonizing screams fuel the impure beast further, prompting it to expel the putrid substance upon the three, showering them in filth and literally dissolving them.

Not every victim of these undead creatures is killed in such a way. Some are literally ripped limb from limb, others still are consumed (wholly or partially), some are trampled under the larger masses, others still are chased down and maimed. Men, women, and children alike are massacred. The creatures have no moral compass, no sense of right or wrong; The only thought in their head is to kill and destroy.

By the time Sabba and her friend reach a small hill overlooking the village, there is next to nothing left. The sickening howls, hisses, and moans of the horde have begun to overtake the screams of the villagers as more and more fall to the foul swarm. The desperate, fading cries of her friends, of her family, pierce Sabba's ears; Her jaw falls agape and her eyes begin to fill with warm tears that immediately stream down her face. Standing to her left, her friend looks on in utter disbelief, his bottom lip quivers uncontrollably as he looks on in horror. Without thinking, he grabs her arm. "We have to run! We have to go," he tells her, his voice cracking with fear.
Sabba turns her eyes, still full of tears, to her friend and shakes her head. She rips her arm out of his grasp and balls her fists, planting her feet in the ground firmly. She looks to the heavens and screams at the top of her lungs "Voktys!!!"
Her voice nearly sends shock waves through the entire forest, carrying over the sickening sounds of the mob just below them. She holds the name as long as she can draw breath, slowly crumbling to her knees. The thick locks of her hair fall forward, her head falls down as the name trails from her lips, and she crumbles to her knees, sobbing.
Her friend looks down at the crying young woman in disbelief. "Wha--...Sabba! You fool! They'll hear! Those things, they'll--..." before the words fully form in his mouth, his eyes shift and he sees the entirety of the moaning masses dashing to their location. He swallows hard and yells to his friend "Get up! Get up!! Sabba! GET UP!!!"~

-----​

~Quickly, he turns away from the two villagers he just sent away while casting a single glance to the skies above him. The dense canopies make it nearly impossible to see perfectly, but he knew there was something above the planet. Something had come. But who or what? And why...? After all this time, why?

Deep within himself, he knew the adolescent villagers wouldn't make it to the community in time, they would be unable to warn their families and friends in time. He knew with certainty. Unfortunate as it was, it was unavoidable. With the smallest of sighs, he pushes the thought from his mind and looks forward, into his dwelling. His grip releases from the walking stick, but it remains standing upright without his touch near the doorway as he walks by. He shuffles through a few items, tossing them hastily to the side. All around him he can feel the Force trembling; The ripping and tearing in his mind is an incredible nuisance, but he pushes through it, attempting to silence the violence in the Force for even a moment.
The candles, once lit, are now extinguished and the wafting smoke from the wicks fills the air, swirling around him as he moves from one side of the dwelling to the other. He readies a small sack of items, placing multiple artifacts and other unassuming treasures and writings inside with great care.

A shelf, set into the wall, houses a rather small carved wooden box, intricate and ornate carvings all around it. Presumably this box is carved from the same incredibly strong Wroshyr trunk that the staff is made of. The box itself is meant to look something like a music box, but within is something more than just mechanisms that play music. Within the box, held now in the aged hands of the man, is something quite special to him. He tunes the music box slowly, specifically, taking great care to do so, acting as if the world around him is not about to meet certain doom, and listens to each note. His eyelids fall slowly as the soft music plays, note by note. The dreary melody fills his ears, seemingly taking the aged man to a different time and place, and the faintest smile cracks at the edge of his lips. For a moment, he has some semblance of peace.
Once the last note plays and the melody comes to an end, he opens his eyes and looks down at the box, then turns a mechanism in the bottom a multitude of different ways before the bottom opens. A hatch opens, revealing within a weathered silver hilt, curved in shape. The hilt is weaved with tarnished electrum accents, intricate etched writings span the entirety of the aged hilt. The once dutiful weapon looks as if it hasn't been ignited in ages.
A sigh slips from the man's lips while running his aged hand slowly over the timeworn hilt. "How long has it been..." He whispers, speaking only to himself. Breathing a light chuckle, he holds the hilt across his open palms, looking over the elegant weapon completely. He shakes his head slowly while replacing the worn hilt to its resting place.

Before the hilt finds its home, the man's peace is abruptly shattered by a desperate scream. The scream comes not only through the Force, but through the physical world, as well.
"Voktys!!!"
His head snaps up. Deftly, he places the hilt on his belt, closing his robes around him. The box that housed the hilt is lifted into the air and placed in the bag by the invisible strings of the Force and the bag is lifted and brought to his grasp. He slings the bag over his shoulder and makes haste for the doorway, gripping the walking stick as he passes by.~

-----​

~"This is the end," the young man thought while looking over the undead horde approaching. In the distance, he could see more and more of them falling from the skies, pods smashing through the canopies. He turns his eyes down to his friend, then back to the masses ahead of him, their glowing eyes getting closer by the second. He is torn. He truly can't decide if he should run for the mountains, as he was told to do by Voktys, or stay with his friend. Perhaps he will lift her and take her with him. He thinks quickly, all the while trying to reason with his friend. Their time was running out and the undead were upon them...

Before a decision can be fully made within his mind, he grits his teeth and lets loose a savage yell, charging headlong into the flood before him. Three steps into his charge he is abruptly pulled backward, flying through the air and slamming into the ground, sliding backwards on the damp forest floor. Feeling like he just had the wind knocked out of him, he shakes the cobwebs from his mind and looks upward to see the aged man clad in brown robes: Voktys. The young man jumps to his feet and shouts "Save her!" His slender finger pointing at the young woman, Sabba, still lost in her sadness, crying on her knees.
The aged man furrows his brow, snapping his gaze to meet that of the adolescent and instantly pierces through him, freezing the young man in fear momentarily. "Hold your tongue, boy." He hisses angrily, knowing full well that the young woman is in danger.

The young, weeping woman, Sabba, turns her head up for just a moment to see a dozen fiends trouncing toward her. The immense loss she feels, not only for her family, but for her people in general, cancels out any fear she may feel in the moment; she is numb with no notion of self preservation.

The aged man called Voktys tenses his arms, extending them directly out from his body, fingers wrapped firmly around the walking stick. With what seems like blinding speed, he throws his arms up, yanking the invisible tendrils of the Force upward bringing with them the entirety of the ground around the young woman; a massive wall of dirt, roots, branches, and other planetary items shields Sabba from the onslaught.
The putrid fiends hit the wall like a wave breaking against the face of a rock. A loud smash is heard, and body parts fly every which way as those demons leading the rush blasted into the wall. Of course, this sudden wall didn't stop all the attackers, but merely a few, while slowing the others down if only for a second.
Sabba is startled back to reality when the wall comes up before her, sheltering her but for a brief moment. She quickly looks back and sees her friend, standing by looking dumbstruck by the feat he just witnessed, and Voktys, this mystical man she sought out. The tears that filled her eyes are wiped away while she gets back to her feet. She runs back to embrace her friend, thrilled he is still alive. She looks to the aged man with disbelief in her eyes, "Y--...you came back for us," she says sounding almost surprised.

"You have no time for this. Quickly," the aged man says sternly, "Take your friend and make haste to the mountains." He tells them, knowing very well the mountains will not save them. But, at this moment he has no alternative for them. At this exact moment, he isn't even certain how he will survive this.

"That wall isn't meant to hold them forever. It likely won't last another minute," he says very matter-of-factly. He turns from the wall, quaking with pressure, and begins to make his way through the forest. "Where are you going? The mountains are that way!" The young man yells out boldly, still standing near the wall.
Without so much as stopping, the aged man replies, "I'm not going to the mountains, foolish child. I have other matters to tend to." The gravity and ominous meaning isn't lost on the two, and Sabba walks forward following behind him. "Then we should go with you, shouldn't we? It's safer," she remarks quickly. The words cause the man to stop in his tracks. "Safe?" He scoffs coldly, then turns to look back over his shoulder at the young woman. "What safety do you think you'll find with me?" He laughs quietly to himself, shaking his head slightly. "I'm afraid there is no safety here. With me, or otherwise." He slowly turns his face away and continues walking forward, to which she keeps in step. She reaches her hand out and begins to speak, but he cuts her off abruptly, "Where I'm going, there's no place for either one of you." She bobs her head back slightly to his words, taken off guard.

A creak turns into a crack, a crack into a shatter, and swiftly the wall crumbles and a wave of undead, spewing forth horrific vomit, comes crashing over the broken down wall. The young man, Sabba's exploring companion, is standing beside the wall and is mercilessly caught in the debris and the wave of undead. Before anyone can react, the vile swarm tramples over him, smashing his body into the ground before the oozing vomit can even dissolve his remains.
Sabba hears the thunderous crash and turns to her friend but sees only his eyes as he is being consumed. His arm reaches out for her as the weight of his body is slammed into the ground and his voice is garbled by the heinous liquid filling his mouth. She takes half a step to move toward him, her hand reaching for his, but she finds herself paralyzed with fear, sadness, all of her emotions rush back to her at once. The lifeless masses push toward her, yet she cannot move.

Mere feet separate her and the vile undead, and they are covering ground quickly. At this moment, she seems to accept her fate, resigning to the idea of perhaps seeing her family, her friends, once more.
The tiniest of hairs sticks up on the back of her neck, sending an odd sensation down her spine. She looks down to her arm and notices the light colored hairs there also standing up. Suddenly, an enormous bolt of lightning streaks by her face, careening into the skull of the fiend directly in front of her. In fantastic fashion, the head explodes, sending a tar like substance flying outward just missing her. Another bolt flies forward, then another, and yet another. Each bolt finds its mark, streaking through the air with a tremendous crackle, massacring each sack of flesh they hit, causing each to explode.

Finally, Sabba is able to regain composure and turn back, only to see the aged man hurling lightning bolts from the very tips of his fingers. Her green eyes widen twice their normal size as she watches this incredible sight before her, something she had only heard stories about. "Quickly now, to me!" He shouts to her, causing her to run toward him, being careful to be clear of the bolts ripping through the air.

with only a momentary lapse in the oncoming horde, the aged man looks to the young woman at his side, no more than 16 standard years old, and sighs quietly to himself. In truth, he doesn't want to take her with him. To him, she is a nothing more than a liability. However he knows she would die within seconds alone. Despite what he told her, she would be safer with him. She would, at the very least, live through the night.
The two turn and leave the dead behind them, and begin to make haste for the clearing in the forest; within the clearing, the base of the massive mountains can be seen. The particular forest that housed the now destroyed village is in a large valley, surrounded mostly by mountains that are hidden to the natives due to the dense trees all around them. The natives rarely ventured into the mountains for fear of freezing, unknown wildlife, or worse. The mountains are rich with cave systems, and that is exactly where the two are headed with the hope to find a reprieve from the onslaught of the open skies. . .~

Tag: @Darth Dreadwar Darth_wanderguard

 

CHARACTER SHEET

Name: The Lorekeeper
Age: ??
Sex: Male
Species: Human
Occupation: Sith
Height: 5'10
Weight: 148
Physical Description: Lean and frail in appearance, very sickly and unclean. Pale chalky colored skin that is dry and cracked, his fingernails are untrimmed and jagged from breaking, and his white hair is thin and brittle. He wears brown robes, very old and frayed brown robes, by the smell of them they have not been washed in some time.


Weapons: THE DARK SIDE OF THE FORCE, and a lightsaber he keeps somewhere in the library...maybe...he just can't find it right now.
Rank/Level: 7
Class: Sorcerer/Arcanist
Skills
Force Avalanche – 3
Force Push/Pull –3
Force Choke – 3
Force Lightning - 3
Force Defense – 3
Mind Trick - 3
Form VI - 2
(Sorcerer tree only) Force Drain - 4
(Arcanist only) Dark Side Healing - 4

Bio:

He does not know his birth name or who might have given him one, nor where it is he originates from. It does not matter, he is Sith. He does have a name however, or more appropriately a title one should say, one he was given by the Emperor. He can still feel the chill of cold as he remembers those words, "Henceforth you shall be known as Darth.....", well, that doesn't really matter at this time. He doesn't answer to any name except "Lorekeeper", in fact, at this point it is doubtful that any beyond the Emperor even know the name that was given.

Anyway.

Long, long ago a boy was found by some offworld Sith. The Sith must have sensed the boy's potential as he was brought to Korriban and trained in the ways of the SIth. He took to it well, he excelled in the arcane. He hungered for obscure knowledge, morsels of information, secrets lost to the ages. Eventually most of his time was spent in the great library complex of the Empire, it was there that he sunk into madness as he gave himself to the Dark Side.

He always remained in, or near, the library though. It was his passion, none knew it or it's contents better than he. After many decades of service to the Empire he was given charge of the vast halls of material the Empire possessed, without question it was the single largest collection of Sith knowledge the galaxy has ever seen. He is known only as the Lorekeeper, he has the uncanny ability to find any item a patron may be looking for with minimal trouble, he may even be a aware of a few powerful artifacts squirreled away in the massive library.

Some say they have heard him whispering, mumbling more accurately. Through the years rumors have spread that his sanity was sacrificed to the Old Gods in exchange for everything from secrets, to power, immortality, or darker more sinister blessings. Nobody pays him much attention though, he is a crazy old Sith, they think him weak.....in that they are wrong.

Today the Lorekeeper protects the Empire's knowledge, to him it is the source of their power in this galaxy. He has come to think of it as his own, it is his obsession. Though most items in the library are available for use, under strict rules of return, there are some that only a few are allowed access to. Some Sith covet this rarer material however, and wish to horde those secrets to themselves, it is his job to see that none of the collected knowledge of the Sith is taken or lost.

He takes that part of his job very seriously.

 

~Valley of the Dark Lords~

Dark, booming laughter echoed through the expanse of the valley as Darth Cruor and his guardian Draconis stood locked in a struggle with the spectral forms of allies and enemies long vanquished.

A tangle of white-blue dark side energy burst forth from Cruor's outstretched hand in numerous tendrils, aimed for the angry specter of Deyla Heren, who was met by the sizzling energy before his own strike could land. Rock and ectoplasm alike dispersed as the phantasm was battered with electricity, and the whole of it disapparated when it felt the full brunt of the attack, howling with ignominy.

In an instant Heren's scrambled form conglomerated once again behind Cruor, still baying artlessly, and drove its stony blade into the small of the Sith's back with a powerful thrust aimed for the spine. The blunt rock would not pierce him, but the force of the blow would nonetheless make it an injurious maltreatment.

Meanwhile Draconis had halted his own attacker's advance with a force-empowered uppercut, driving his energized fist into Rabai's golem-like stomach. Stones knocked together as the blow landed, and portions of rock and blue spectral essence were sent flying upward, leaving a gaping chasm in its torso.

In anger and pain, the ethereal attacker recoiled momentarily before launching forward again. Bands of energy encased Draconis wrists and yanked him upward several feet, twisting him in midair before rag-dolling him to the hard, dusty ground.

TAG: dragonsith13, Mikaboshi






Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

IC: Scionica
Sith Temple - Main banquet chambers, Moraband

The night had started out slow, but had quickly accelerated in the most unexpected of ways. Scionica and her sister were still very new to this whole...way of life. It had been less than a year since they had attempted to assassinate Lady Viscretus, a mere six months since the twins had found this place, and only four months since they had been chosen by their Masters. Such a comparatively short amount of time, and yet here they were at the table of a great feast, only a few seats down from the most powerful being in the galaxy. It was an incredible honour, one she noted with intense interest as she attempted to decipher what it could mean. She knew her Master, Lady Apollyon, was close to Darth Dreadwar.

Well, she ammended silently, as close as you can get to such a being as he. She wasn't sure many Sith had legitimate friends, and it seemed likely to her that the Ladies Apollyon and Viscretus were an oddity in the world of the Sith. For though even the Sith needed allies, Scionica knew from experience that an alliance didn't always necessitate friendship.

The young woman ran a hand through her long red hair and leaned over to her sister, tugging gently on a black lock of hair to get Kevala's attention. Her sister's silvery-white eyes met hers in a silent, curious question.

"Have you tried whatever's on that plate over there?" Scionica queried, pointing to a plate with some kind of bright red, insectoid looking dish.

Kevala wrinkled her nose with a slight smile. "No, it looks - "

A harrowing scream rang out through the hall, startling the twins as they looked around, seeking the source of the unholy commotion. Scionica's dark eyes met the disbelieving, solid orbs of a young Nautolan apprentice hovered above the table, clouded in an aura of instantly recognizable red.

Darth Dreadwar.

Scionica's pale face paled even further in dread as the apprentice decayed before her eyes. Though she kept her face carefully neutral, her stomach roiled in her gut with horror and repulsion and she sent a swift mental presence to Kevala, seeking for the silent reassurance and support of their mental bond.

As the Nautolan disappeared into dust and her bones were thrown across the hall, she heard the familiar rasp of her Master's Master.

"All that proceeds from this moment are the Trials. The Jedi may play child's games, but we are Sith. Your trials shall be to advance our Empire's interests on the field of battleand to advance our interests here on Korriban."

"We have one such situation presently. In the Valley of the Dark Lords, a great power has awakened. Even as we dine, it empties its wrath upon the sands, and visits vengeance upon our unfortunate acolytes. This great power was born from this very Order, many years ago. He must be returned to the fold. Or be destroyed,. It will take nothing less than an army, of apprentices and Masters in unified strength, to accomplish this."

"And then there is another task. You have all heard the stories, of a sorceress and her fortress in the wastes by the Valley of Golg. She is a relic from a bygone age, and has become a rival. I will expect a small band of apprentices and Masters to return her fortress to the sands whence it came... and relieve her of her head, as well as the two artifacts in her blasphemous possession: the Heart and the Helm of Graush."

"Lastly, there is the small matter of apprenticeship. Robyn Shaire, new to the darkness, does not have a Master, a personal overseer in her training within the Academy. One notes Lords Manticore and Titus do not currently have pupils."

Dreadwar dismissed them to desert and Scionica exchanged a meaningful glance with Kevala before turning to Apollyon, who had just addressed the table.

"What do you think?" she asked with a grin.

Scionica thought carefully for a moment, sorting through the concoction of her emotions. "I'm excited. I want to prove myself. I want to show them that I'm not just a hired assassin. I'm eager to start these trials and I'm confident in my abilities. However..." she hesitated a moment. "These politics are so foreign to me. I have to admit that I'm not exactly sure what's going on. For instance, where are we going? Will I be going with you or must my trials be separate from your guidance?"

Tag: Darth Dreadwar, Admiral Volshe

 

IC: Lady Viscretus
Banquet Hall, Moraband

"I seek those who may be interested in dealing with the situation in the Valley of Golg. Those of like mind, after the fine festivities are concluded, I would most certainly be interested in speaking with you to learn more."
Re’van returned to her seat, her words still echoing in the banquet hall. Darth Viscretus extended a slender hand to her glass and brought it to her lips without so much as disturbing the rose tinted wine inside. She turned over the various propositions in her mind. Golg was her only interest. The artefacts called to her, their names and histories whispers in her mind as she contemplated. The Heart and Helm were not the only thing that caught her attention, nor were they what finalised her decision. The woman no doubt had more to her name than a barren fortress and two artefacts. It was more than likely she had some wealth and further possessions. Yet the Sith Lady’s interest was in the sorceress herself. She had acquired the infamous artefacts somehow, and for some reason. These were not items that one simply collected on a whim. She had a purpose. She had a goal. Beyond that, her skill and knowledge would have to be somewhat impressive. Viscretus inhaled, the metallic tinge of blood and flesh still lingering in the air, the final remnants of the unfortunate Nautolan. The potential for furthering her own knowledge sparked a hunger deep within. It was a task she could not refuse.

Her focus shifted to her apprentice, Lady Kevala, who sat beside her. Though the dark-haired woman sat quietly, Viscretus could feel the buzz of anticipation that flooded her. Beyond Kevala's striking, glacial eyes, there was a deep curiosity. Her glass clinked to the table as she set it back in its place. She couldn’t help but allow herself a smirk. Her apprentice’s interests aligned with hers quite perfectly, something that allowed her far more freedoms - and benefits - than she had anticipated.

“I am interested,” she began, setting her hands in her lap. They sunk into the deep, plum fabric. “This sorceress, her fortress will crumble before us, and the artefacts within will be ours.”

Shira A'dola , Darth_wanderguard , HunterPrime , Moonspun Dragon , Padawan4687 , Darth Master Titus , greyjedi125 , dragonsith13 , LittleDemon , Darth Dreadwar

 

Character Sheet:

Name: Za'a
Age: 25
Sex: Male
Species: Zanibar
Occupation: Sith Assassin
Height: 6'
Weight: 155 lbs
Physical Description: Tall, thin, and cadaverous, with night black skin, Za'a comes across a living charred skeleton. His eyes are set so deep into his sockets that the sockets at first glance seem empty and lifeless. Like most Zanibar, hie skull is taller and slightly more bulbous than that of humans. The only color he has are when his needle teeth are flushed red with blood, giving them a shade of bright crimson, or silver, if he allows iron deposits to intermingle with the blood.
Clothing: A simple, thin black cloak that covers all parts of his body except his mouth. When he is on missions that involve moving as easily in the dark as possible, he will sometimes wear nothing at all.
Weapons: Though he carries a standard red lightsaber, his preferred weapons are two curved assassin blades made of black cortosis (the kind that can counter a lightsaber, not deactivate it). These can be used in close combat, as well as thrown if need be.
Description of Abilities: Za'a is a consummate predator and assassin, lurking in the shadows and waiting for the right moment to strike. If need be, he can wait for weeks in the same place, in the same position, due to his Force powers and low nutritional needs. Though able to stand up against physically strong opponents, his chief advantage is in his flexibility; his joints allow him to contort his body into any number of positions impossible for most humans instantaneously, making him something of a difficult opponent to hit. In addition to his general Force senses, Za'a has his extra-ocular senses heightened to such a degree that he can fight in pitch blackness with no problem. His claws and flexibility allow him to traverse areas off limits to most beings, and when on mission, he moves more like an animal than anything else.
His blade skills, especially with his assassin blades, are considerable, though he prefers more quick kills than long, drawn out fights. He practices with his lightsaber only for necessity's sake, and otherwise views it as a clunky weapon. Though all Sith are experienced in melee combat, Za'a takes it to another level, not hesitating for a second to use his claws and teeth against an opponent, sometimes devouring bits of an enemy in mid-combat.
Bio: Raised to be a member of Zanibar's priestly caste, who were responsible for the sacrifices necessary to keep the gods sated, his world ended when a rival tribe murdered his entire clan in local warfare. Fleeing into the woods, he vowed revenge, but knew that he could not take on his opponents head on. Living off scavenged meat in the Zanibarian jungles, Za'a fashioned his first blades from the bones of a dead carnivore and began to exact his revenge. At night, he would slink though the enemy village, killing people silently and with minimal bloodshed. As this continued, he learned that he had the ability to cloud the minds of certain individuals to further his camouflage, opening him up to his budding Force powers. Once all of his enemies had been dispatched, he stole a shuttle and left the planet, realizing that there was nothing left for him there. Over the next few years, he took several assassination jobs from various crime bosses, further honing his skills but leaving him largely purposeless.
It was just by luck that he stumbled across a battle between Sith and Republic forces, with both sides equally matched. Sensing the seductive dark energies emanating from the Sith, he stealthily killed several of the Republic soldiers at key location, turning the battle in favor of the Sith. Afterwards, he joined the Sith on their journey back to Korriban and enrolled in the academy, hoping to perfect his skills to allow him to continue to rack up kills as sacrifices for the gods.

Rank/Level: Apprentice
Class: Assassin
Skills:
Force push/pull – 1
Force choke – 1
Force jump – 1
Force Defense –1
Mind Trick – 1
Form II – 1
Form III – 1
(Assassin tree only) Force Cloak – 1

 

1. Name: Scaria Astraljunker- Darth Sucher
   Age: 19
   Sex: Female
   Species: Human
   Occupation: Sith Apprentice
   Height: 5ft 5
   Weight: 7 stones
   Physical Description: Black Mohawk. Scar across her face, eye patch from an injury. Dark skin. Dark Brown eyes.
   Clothing: Traditional black armour plates, and shoulder plates. Tight black leather top and bottoms.
   Weapons: Red Lightsaber. Two laser guns for backup.
   Description of Abilities: Very flexible. Very fast runner and highly trained in parkour.
   Bio: Born on Plexis, from the Core Worlds, she had heard of the fights between the Jedi and the Sith. She was not much interested in the Jedi, and she was always interested in power. Her mother and father had wanted her to become a Jedi Knight, but she had other plans.
   She then followed her dreams and ambitions until one day she was caught up in the middle of the battle between a Jedi Knight and a Sith Master. The Jedi was overpowering the Sith Master when she had an outburst of force causing the Jedi to crash back.
   The Sith Master then took her in. And she became an apprentice.
   Rank/Level: Level 1 Sith Apprentice
   Class: Assassin
   Skills:
   
   Force Push/Pull - 1
   Force choke - 1
   Force Lightning - 1
   Form I - 1
   Form II -
2. Form IV
3. Force Cloak - 1
   Form III - 1

 

IC: Mindless Darth Cruor - Valley of the Dark Lords

The scorching lightning tore through the spectral creature before him, with a howl of pain it disappeared in hopes of avoiding further punishment. The raging Sith had no time to search for where the ghost had gone when he felt was struck forcefully in the middle of his back, if his Gen'Dai physiology was that of a normal man he would most likely be paralyzed. To the great despair of many a fallen foe however, Darth Cruor could not be stopped so easily.

The immense black clad Sith staggered forward, more from the force than any pain, before turning around in rage and throwing a telekinetic wave of force in an arc behind him. It was a clumsy and unfocused attack, clearly the rage and chaos that infused his body still clouded his mind.

Deep within the maelstrom of power that consumed the Gen'Dai, his consciousness did survive. Though angry and confused, it was still fighting to regain control. Even now the power that bound the ancient Sith was straining, how much longer until he broke free only time would tell.

Tag: dragonsith13 Darth_wanderguard

IC: The Lorekeeper - Library

The library was his home, his sanctuary. Rarely did anyone bother him here, so many of the new Sith wanted only to learn the blade. They failed to understand that the true power of the Dark Side was not found in the clash of lightsabers, but in the dark vastness of this very library. For that, The Lorekeeper was thankful.

He hated the company of others. They....touched....everything. Moving. Losing. Ripping. Marking. It irritated him, as pretty much everything does. If not for Inspid's insistence that this remains a public space, the library would have been closed to all but the Masters of the Empire not long after The Lorekeeper took charge of the resource, but Insipid was stubborn.

"Insipid" He muttered as he made his way through the great stacks of the library toward the center of the space, The Lorekeeper knew who was here. "Insipid" He clacked a second time, this time with more annoyance in his tone. As the disheveled librarian, don't call him that by the way, neared the end of the stacks that faced the central study area he saw the being of his focus. "Insipid" This time his voice a whisper, as if lowering his volume would keep his presence hidden from the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord was sitting facing a gathered crowd of Sith, he was droning on about politics again, always. The Lorekeeper crept forward slightly, careful to remain in the shadows. "What did he say" His mumbles incomprehensible to all but himself. Beneath his unwashed and wiry hair the man frowned and his brows furrowed, he should have known. Insipid was telling some intense red specimen that his apprentice could keep one of the holocrons for a while.

Apprentice?! The Lorekeeper's frown deepened as he stared through Inspid with a crazed and unblinking gaze, as his mind explored various death scenarios for the Dark Lord. By the time Inspid spoke directly to the crazy old archivist his frown was completely gone, replaced with wide toothy grin. His teeth were rotten and cracked, but still he appeared happy enough.

'Anything wise to add, oh sanguine one?' The Dark Lord was even looking directly at him. The Lorekeeper blinked twice, his smile slowly fading and his face returning to it's usually sullen expression. "Next time you wish to use the library," He paused for just a second before continuing. "let me know." With that he slowly backed up a few steps into the deeper shadow, thinking himself unseen he stopped and stood watching the group. In particular the ones that the Dark Lord had been speaking to in regards to the holocron.

Tag: Sinrebirth greyjedi125@HunterPrime

 

IC: Re'van
Sith Temple - Main banquet chambers, Moraband

As Re'van took her seat, she looked up and down the table. For quite a long breath of time, there was no response. Re'van sipped her drink, and she mulled over the possibilities. Was she perhaps wrong about this new company of Sith she had found herself surrounded by? There was much postering, and spewing of words and pleasantries, but she found little in the want of actual action or progression. Suddenly, she heard a female voice began to speak, and Re'van turned her head to spy the woman who was finally bold enough to respond. And she was pleased at what she saw. Facial symbols, and long hair carefully braided. Slinder, poised, and dressed in deep plum colored robes. The woman began to speak. “I am interested,” she began, setting her hands in her lap. They sunk into the deep, plum fabric. “This sorceress, her fortress will crumble before us, and the artefacts within will be ours.” Indeed. Re'van could guess at the meaning within her words. This could lead to a most agreeable hunt for all, if such was the case. Some more than others. She noted that the woman shared a look with another young woman sitting nearby as well. A student perhaps? Or perhaps a pairing? Either way, it could be most useful indeed.

Re'van lifts up her glass, and tilts it towards the woman, a slow nod of acknowledgement and greeting towards her. "Yes. Indeed that shall, My Lady... ?" Re'van paused, hoping that the woman would fill in her name. But if not, that was fine as well. The fact that the woman had responded at all, put her in a higher esteam than the others who sat at the table, filling their faces and bellies. Even if it was not to join them, but to choose another task, would have been acceptable. Especially after the 'display' his Highness had displayed earlier. To mingle and socialize, yes. But they had not done that either. So far, she was left mildly annoyed. She could not honestly say dissapointed, for she had expected such a thing to pass. But she was hoping that it would not be the case. AGAIN. But at least there was one, who spoke up. And even the ones who had left earlier, though the cause might not be something she could honestly agree to, at least they had enough passion to act on it, if only just to listen. Re'van listened to see if the woman responded with her name. As she did, she finished her drink, gently swirling the contents of the glass around, as she stared at the contents. Yes, this was familiar to her, as it was before. Familiar, but different. And this time, there was much to be gained. They would need to do a quick matter of research, to find the items requested, and what other possible trinkets lay within those walls. Walls, that would soon cascade, and fall before them.


TAG: Admiral Volshe, Shira A'dola, Darth_wanderguard, Moonspun Dragon, Padawan4687, Darth Master Titus, dragonsith13, LittleDemon, Darth Dreadwar, any others I might have missed.