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  1. Yesterday
  2. As the Lady Sith went to check on her unruley pack of Sithies, Delta stood awkwardly in her bedroom. His crystal blue eyes slowly jumping from poster to poster which had been plastered on the walls. Random bands that were obscure enough to be cool to college aged kids/ His eyes eventually drifted back to where the red haired slave girl was just waking up from a barbituated daze. “Ta.” He held out a reassuring hand to stop her from getting up. “You need actual rest, not some drugged up stupor.” She nodded softly and rubbed at her eyes, but didn’t try to speak, and instead laid back onto the leather couch and was fastly asleep before Delta could warn her about the blood she had stuck her bare feet into. He shrugged and sat down on Ailbasi’s bed, staring at the carpet and wondering what would befall him next. It was in that state that the reincarnated Sith lord found him some time later. Still staring at the carpet, but he smiled widely at her and patted beside him. Inviting her to sit. “We have all done things we regret. I’ve killed hundreds of thousands. You ate a sith lord. You know, normal couple things. It’s fine with me Ailbasí. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He pulled her into a fierce hug. “What comes next for us?”
  3. Aira Cadan

    Ilum

    Things weren't going the way I had planned. I was jerked out of my meditation the moment I sensed Mjan claim his crystal. "Well that was...different," I said aloud. Either I had missed something training Mjan, or the Force just had a sense of humor. Former experience tempted me to believe the latter, but I was humble enough to know that the former was also a possibility. I rolled my shoulders and stood up from where I had been sitting cross-legged on the ice. Mjan would be on his way back now, and I was glad for the opportunity to rub some feeling back into my numb limbs. I glanced at my chrono and made a decision. Pulling my coat around me tighter, I headed back out into the storm. Once back at the ship, I grabbed a satchel I had brought with me from Borleias, as well as some ration packs, and headed back. The cave's quiet and relative warmth was almost more welcome than it had been a few hours ago. Blinking snow out of my eyelashes, I set down my bag and started to munch on a ration pack's contents. Mjan, I expected, would be there momentarily.
  4. Last week
  5. Aye. Well said young one, merely seeking death and destruction is not a legacy that lasts. If you wish to be hated by millions of mothers and children and believe that is some kind of legacy that will last beyond a single generation it is foolishness. For who even remembers Ar-Pharazon the Golden? Terrian the cruel? Lord Achzet? His sweeping hand took in the statues dismissively. They are nothing, because they built nothing. That is our crucial flaw Mordecai. We do not look to the generations in front of us to leave a legacy to. His hand became an fist. We consolidate power out of greed and that power dies with us. We have built nothing but crypts and tombs, halls to our eternal power that show little but decay. The mask's eyes flared red gold. Do what I do little one. Build order, build stability, build the next generation. And do not fall to the trap that is power for powers self. The eyes turned to the apprentice. Do you understand?
  6. Sandy’s breath seeped past her teeth in an exasperated hiss as her first strike missed and her danger sense trickled up her spine with a fierce annoyance. Her bright green eyes narrowed as she kept her concentration on the tendrils of the force, as they curled about her to grasp at the knives on her belt. But she did not move them yet, that would be for after whatever the Mandalorian would be throwing at her now. F Another breath sucked in through her teeth as her foot touched down and the mandalorian leader had lifted her arm releasing a billow of flame in a stream from the fire launcher. Sandy let the force move through her muscles again, coiling in her muscles to spring her again. It was an easy and much trained technique, nearly second nature as Sandy’s concentration maintained on her mass telekinesis. She had to move fast to avoid the flame, or to deflect it. With a flick of a finger on the long pommel of her lightsaber, a tendril of the force snapped up from her belt with a vibro bayonet in its ethereal grasp. The blade angled flat as if intending to slap the Mandalorian instead of stabbing her. The blade intercepted the fire and parted it, sparing Sandy from cooking to death, and splashing the ground on either side of her booted feet with liquid flames. The flat of the blade shunted the burning fuel away from Sandy as the blade moved closer to the mandalorian, the blade held vertically, flat side towards the great Mandalorian, until it intercepted the thin stream completely. It did not however go further than interception, that would come later. So it stayed in place a foot out from the Mandalorian, blocking the stream of deadly fire, The blade took the fire greedily, turning the gleaming metal black as night as the fuel stuck to the blade, some dripping off its handle to pool at the feet of the Mandalorian. The force moved in her muscles, and Sandy lept to land beside the other girl, outside the pool of puddled liquid fire. She switched her guard again in a cutting blur, in order to catch both any blaster bolts the Mandalorian would be sending her way, and for the silver blade to rip through the other girl’s midsection from stomach to backbone. Sandy kept her grin. Reveling in the fight. She had once been the least of the Jedi in the order, now she was fulfilling everything she had dreamed of. It was joy embodied, and her breath became a giggle. ((2))
  7. The Imperial special operations pilots ran briskly from their cockpits, each holding a small luggage bag with civvie clothes. But for now they were all dressed immaculately in the Imperial Remnant white dress uniform, with the red bloodstripes and shoulder boards of the special operations unit. Led by their lieutenant, they crisply saluted the deck officer in charge of the flight deck and marched into the turbolift. Which carried them to the bridge, upon exiting the lift, Beth and her crew saluted the Admiral of the Fleet. Their eyes looking from the wolflike companion and the admiral himself. The fact that the 12 person team was entirely human was beginning to stick out like a sore thumb. But Raven's adjustment's to recruitment hadn't filtered up to the elite forces yet. So you could say the remnant was trying to get better. “Imperial Templars reporting for action sir, where will you have us?”
  8. Minor fix, I forgot we also determined that using purified cortosis in weapons or bullets is overpowered and prohibited.
  9. As focused as she was on the half-awake, half-competent medtech, Draygo never took register of the sly tip of the scalpel that slipped into her mind. She just quietly yawned and fought the temptation to count the hours. However, the veteran Jedi knew that she would be more useful after a few hours of sleep--actual shut-eye, rather than a Jedi rejuvenation trance that would restore the body without providing respite to the soul. And her healers had warned her of something--osteocalcititis or something like that--a potentially chronic condition that could result from her stint on Coruscant. She would be more useful after a few hours of sleep. In her present condition, she was likely to bumble into a medtech’s private neuroses and trigger a panic attack during a surgical operation. “Point. Been… eighteen? Nineteen hours since coming out of that bacta tank? Oh, finally she gets it.” Draygo pushed herself away from the window separating her from the surgical suite and grasped her Padawan by the shoulder. “I’ll leave this situation in… your…” She blinked slowly. “Hands. Make sure that you’re always on the move. And… you’re likely to lose someone at some point. Try not to blame yourself. I know that you will, but try not to and learn as much as you can.” And then she was gone. ___ Ten minutes later, Draygo reemerged from the Foundation’s hospital, having abandoned her scrubs for a freshly laundered set of robes. Feeling something wet splash against her face, she glanced upwards--again, Borleias’ tropics were gracing the refugee camp with one of the planet’s ten-minute showers. It only just occurred to Armiena that she had yet to secure berthing in the camp. No matter. Spying an unoccupied landspeeder that was unloading near the prefab buildings that comprised the Foundation’s hospital, she drew her cloak over her face and clambered into the vehicle’s cockpit. Glancing over her shoulder to find that none of the teamsters at the flatbed had taken notice of her trespass, Draygo then rummaged through the internal compartment for a piece of stikflimsi to scrawl a note to place on her forehead. It was only fair, that when one of the teamsters inevitably climbed aboard to find the snoring form of a woman with two lightsabers curled up in the copilot’s seat, that they were at least briefed: Yes its me. Wake if you need me. Loud noises--NO POKING.
  10. A section has been added for Cortosis under the miscellaneous rules. These are subject to change slightly as we are also working on rulesets to add currencies, an OOC game economy, and properly gate these rare materials. More to come.
  11. Body swapping was a trick he had never heard of, even among the legends he had studied of the Sith. However it made little difference to the current situation. Walking over to his pack he removed two water bottles and walked over to three smiling in what he thought was a disarming way. "I must say for a man with no memory and poor physical condition you fight well, I hope there is no hard feelings given that was simply a test. I admire you ferocity and look forward to learning more about what is trapped in that mind of yours." Without waiting for a response he set down the one bottle and drank his own. Learning about pain maps sounded truly interesting but while drinking his water he had to admit that 3's wild barrage had already done some damage. Going over is body internally there was nothing that wouldn't heal but at the same time that didn't make it hurt any less. There wasn't much to be done, he would just have to compartmentalize the pain as best he could and move forward, the only other choice was apparently to die at the hands of the Sith. Slowly walking up to the first of the Crystal images he began to study the complexity of the image and the energy patterns flowing through it. The patter, while somewhat obscure was not difficult to figure out. Deciding to use his tried and true method of learning he spent several minutes memorizing the patterns of energy. The sith had said it would hurt but was also worth the pain so focusing his mind he began to attempt to mimic the pressure points on his own body in an attempt to create the pain sensation that the map showed. At first it seemed he was perhaps wrong about the energy pattern when suddenly one attempt yeilded a jolt of pain that set his head spinning and drove him to his knees. After allowing himself five minutes for his head to clear and the pain to stop he repeated the process to the same result. Two more repetitions with the same result satisfied his intellectual curiosity and memory. Smiling despite himself he moved on to the next crystal image with a determined glint in his eye. This knowledge was invaluable even if he failed to become a sith or died in the morning it would be a well cherished memory as it was obviously the work of masters. It was going to be a long night, but if all went to plan he would at least be able to get 3 hrs of sleep. Well, perhaps 2.5.
  12. MSA

    Ilum

    ((Legal Double Post)) As saber met blade, sparks erupted, the two Tsis engaged in a battle as old as their species. A tear streamed down his cheek as he realised the irony of it before him, the knowledge that even though he followed the light, he was still pitted against his own and those that took up the mantle of his kin. But this being before him, this God-King know as Adas, he was the worst. He may have labeled Mjan as betrayer, but it was he who truly betrayed the Tsis. And the glare that Mjan held upon his eye beneath the sparks and glow of the saber said more than he realized. "You are the betrayer Adas. Mjan finally retorted aloud, spitting the words through his gritted teeth. "You slaughtered our kin by the hundreds of thousands as you brought each of our houses under your banner! And for what? A meaningless title? "I am the chosen, the Sith'ari. I brought our people together, unified them under what was rightfully mine." The charcoal skinned being spoke with conviction, his hatred for Mjan fueling him as he pressed his axe down upon Mjan's blade, forcing Mjan backwards. "Look at me. My very skin speaks of what was foretold. It was my duty... a duty you have disgraced by falling to the light, by following your pathetic Jidai code." "No. Your legacy is stain in blood, a legacy that I, your descendant, carry in shame. I could follow the light for a thousand years and still not wash it from our name." Mjan spoke as he struggled to press back, his knees aching to buckle as he pressed harder against the axe's hilt with his own, the strain evident upon his sweating face. "And in the end, you died, leaving behind only a name and failure. As soon as you died, the unification broke and the infighting continued... even now. You accomplished nothing. Such is the path of darkness." "You know nothing of the darkness, Jidai. It was because of that our people remained free, even against the mighty Rakata! Adas spoke, reeling backwards and away from Mjan as he drew ready his blade for another attack. "And it will end you just as well Isdavy!" Mjan closed his eyes briefly, letting the Force flow through him as he realized that even in death, his kin of both past and present were bound by their very hatred and ignorance, letting the truth of his sight see things for what they really were. And in the moment he opened his gaze, tears streamed from them in sorrow, just as his blade clashed once again with the alchemic blade of his forefather. "They are not free. Hate binds them, just as it does you. Peace is the only way to break the chains of their emotions. "Hahahaha." Adas chuckled as he released his pressure and spun upon his heels and lowered his stature using the weight of his blade to spin attack Mjan's abdomen. "Peace is a lie, there is only passion." Mjan dodged his attack barely, the blade of the axe tearing at his robes. "Only the ignorant would truly believe that. There is no emotion, only serenity and harmony." Adas attacks again, this time attempting to bring the axe's blade straight down upon Mjan's head, causing Mjan to react by pressing his saber against the attack, Adas spewing more words in contest as he bares down upon the Tsis Padawan more and more. "Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through Power, I gain victory." Mjan still streams tears of sorrow as Adas presses forward, the young Tsis realizing how lost the soul has became. And yet, even with the Force's aid, he knows himself unable to defeat him in truth, only postpone the inevitable. Digging his feet into the darkened dirt beneath him, gathering all the strength he and the Force could muster, Mjan manages to catch Adas off balance and forces the blade upwards as he places his hand upon the burning training blade. With one final effort, fighting through the pain, Mjan pushes Adas backwards one last time. Mjan deactivates the blade, lowering the hand that wields it, accepting his fate as he said he would so that others may one day know his story and follow it. He didnt want to die, but he would this day so his newfound understanding of the Force would become a part of its whole, that his will and it would become one. Just as Adas' final attack, all of his anger and hate for his descendant becoming a Jedi fueling his rage, Mjan stood firm in accepting his fate as the Force wills it. "There is no death, there is the Force." And silence filled the air.... Moments would pass as Mjan stood there, waiting for that final blow. But all he would feel was warmth, a pulsating call tugging at his very soul, and as he opened his gaze, that was when Mjan saw it floating before him. No longer was Adas or the corpses surround him, the cavern as black as the night's sky save for the singular glowing yellow crystal before him. And as Mjan reached his shaking injured hand forward to grasp it, a whisper carried itself upon the wind as his hand began to heal with the touch of the crystal. "Jidai" ((Post 4 of 4))
  13. What appeared to be a semblance of a smile cross the Shistavanen's face as he took in a moment to remember the information, slipping the plans into his pocket, and nodding to the Admiral. Unpinning the badge that adorn his duster, Mythos slide it across the desk toward Slaughter. "Understood. Take care of the for me, won't you?" Mythos chuckled as he turned to depart, his gaze shifting back only momentarily before he stepped out the room. "I only need one. Your best. Have them meet me in the hangar in fifteen. And with that, and a small stoop as he stepped outside, Mythos was gone. Fifteen minutes later, Mythos stood near the ship that the Admiral had prepared and stood waiting for his newly appointed companion, dressed in all his gear and his mask once again adorned. If they were going to make this work, they were going to have to act fast, and Mythos held little patience.
  14. Eve's eyes flared with a golden flame as the girl before her confirmed her suspicions, the coiled Lucif's own tail wagging in a rattled imitation as he loosened his protective grip from upon the Melodie as her hand slid down his form and signaling him to relax. She had finally arrived, and this girl before her had offered a gift of a lifetime, one she would not pass up. Not only had she identified the being behind her kin's destruction, she offered a means to destroy him whether she knew it or not. Her skill was undeniable, and Eve lacked harshly in that department. But of she could only... Just as Lucif slithered away, Eve found her wrist gripped tightly, the arrow's tip pressing against her skin as her golden glare reflected the fire building within her eyes stared attentively toward her opposition's own. Before she could even react, she winced in pain as it was driven through as her blood boiled forth in a mixture of pain and euphoria, almost as if Eve was willing to do anything to possess what she held to offer. As the girl repeated the process with her own, Eve's gaze shot toward the feeling Lucif with command and then turned back toward their new companion as he words echoed deep in Eve's darkening heart. "I am at your's to command then." Eve bolstered as the ship settled, her balance firm, even as the girl before her dragged her to and down the boarding ramp, a near devilish smile gracing her lips as the two left the Reel behind. "Yes. Let's go meet the Spider in all his glory."
  15. Tobias nodded in acknowledgement of her offer to help fix the programming error within in the droids. Idly, he threw out a barrier, mentally wanting to protect the trio- or be possessive of them. Which, a moment later, he realized was silly and he should trust Aurora and her abilities. If she said she could do it- she could. If Tobias' face was anything to go by it would show how delighted he was with Auroras control of the Force- and the elements. He beamed with a ear-to-ear smile. As she hydrated and answered him a sense of pride could be felt from him to Aurora. "You're getting stronger with the Breath, The Force. Good Job, and nice choice of beverage." Tobias winked, and toasted Aurora with his own beverage. After another sip, he sighed as she answered about the Aing-Tii. "I suspected not, but I was just curious. A species typically doesn't shelter themselves away from others unless they are extremely xenophobic or trusting. Typically there is a moment in time where the species has learned from their error and retreated back to themselves. I spent a lot of time with the Aing-Tii in my journey Beyond the Veil... and I still know little about their history. Their ways of manipulating and interacting with the Force simply fascinates me, and I've been emulating them more and more- and even you are now by proxy. And speaking of proxy..." Tobias hung his head after another longer sip. He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, pinching it. A expression of pain crossed his face as he rose up from his seat and walked out of the room. But he was still there- sitting across from Aurora. Tilting his head to one side at an extreme angle, he kept his eyes closed and pressed the bottle to his lips again. "The Aing-Tii would be very impressed with your use of the Force just then. The trick I used to get this drink was a technique they taught me. Well, one, but that is another story. I was just hoping to learn more about them. Once you they trust you, they will let you learn from them. As long as they trust you, which doesn't happen often, and not as deeply as I have. There are different factions of dark and light side Force users, they view the Force as a rainbow- the path from light to dark is shaded by that of-" Tobias set his drink down on the table between him and his apprentice and lifted his hands with the palms up indicating their surroundings. "-a Prism." His hands returned to the drink and he winked at the young woman across from him. "Which makes all this... quite the unique experience as my views are more in line with the Aing-Tii 'Rainbow Theory' but we'll keep that between you and I for now." Tobias shrugged. ~~~ Avatar Tobias-- Standing down from the common room, the avatar reached out to Kota. As it was a nearly identical copy of Tobias it was doubtful the young lad would detect it. Afterall, the doppelganger was link to Tobias, it was just easier to have two separate conversations like this. It reached out- "Yes, Kota?"
  16. Zalis was able to offer up a smile to Remo as she stood up and began to walk down the ramp. She once again offered the droid a soft touch as she walked past him. Upon reaching the ground, she allowed herself a moment to openly inhale the air of the planet. The smell that hit her nostrils were a mix of dirt, metal, alcohol and an overall scent of fumes from the spaceport. Letting out a heavy exhale, she looked off to her right to observe some of the dregs and scoundrels talking over their winnings at a local casino. It made her narrow her eyes as she half listened in before walking away and towards the entrance of Black Castle. "Remo, make a note for me. Lets look into a more higher profile planet that may attract... wealthier clients..." She didn't bother to make sure he was following her okay, as she was far more interested in just getting back into a normal routine. Plus the fact that she had much bigger problems recently. Her encounter with Celteo on Taris made her far more aware that there was a high need for her Vigos to be more involved within the galaxy. But it also produced another problem altogether. The power and reach of Black Sun was still small in some ways. That would be something that she would need to fix quickly. Using people like Celteo may prove an avenue that she never thought of before. Upon entering the building of Black Castle, the receptionist droid WP 12 became aware of her and leaned forward, paging one of her underlings, who upon getting signal came running out in a panic, quickly offering up his boss a slight bow before beginning with a shaky voice. "Ma'am, the Mandalorians have been within reports of destroying Coruscant, along with hostiles at Chandrilia. I have also been unable to reach Delta as you requested." Zalis turned and looked him in the eyes. His eyes seemed panicked and full of fear. "Who cares what the Mandalorians do. Those planets have already been polluted with politics. Let them burn. What we should be doing is selling arms to them. Reach out to their leader and see if they may be willing to setup a deal with us. And as far as Delta is concerned, he's free to roam wherever he wants. I'll reach out to him on my own time. I have never once asked for you to do that. Over step your boundaries again and I'll kill you where you stand. For now, contact the Mandalorains. I'll be in my office with Remo..." Zalis quickly walked past the man and towards her office. She needed some time to think through what her next steps would be.
  17. The frantic events of the next week were a blur, and a time that Sophia would later find painful to recall.: Coruscant; Kuat; the Galactic Alliance; the Imperial Remnant. What Sophia had expected to be stable, or at least sufficiently well-founded to stand its ground, evaporated in a matter of days. She watched G-Span as system after system seceded from the Galactic Alliance. She endured the dread of standing before a reunion kiosk and inquiring after some twenty people she gave a damn about on Coruscant--no information was available about the fates of any of them. That didn’t mean anything. If her Coruscanti friends and colleagues had escaped, it was likely that they were still in hyperspace or had yet to be processed into the exploded refugee system. If not… the civilian Holonet transceiver networks were overloaded to the point of uselessness, and the better odds were that no remains would ever be found if they were lost. No information was available regarding the fate of the Darkfire boy. That was classified information, Moriarty understood, not to be divulged to someone who wasn’t immediate kin. There had been a frantic Holonet transmission from Andromina, the pilot that she had briefly met--and made a libidinous fool out of herself in front of--on Coruscant. That felt like it had been years ago. Recalling the incident in her closet of a hotel room, Sophia found herself staring at the blank screen of her datapad once the transmission ended. The average crew of an Impstar Deuce, she reminded herself, was something along the line of forty-six thousands. Beth’s time on the terminal had to have been extremely limited, and the pilot might have had to wait hours for her limited session. And Beth chose to contact her, of all people. Didn’t she have family? Close friends? Why her? Sophia wiped her hand clean of the greasy slice of flatbread onto her bed and closed down her datapad. The historian swept her fingertips through her hair and just stared at her knees for a few minutes Moriarty rose and paced the perimeter of her room, an exercise that only took a few seconds. The exercise repeated itself and Moriarty stammered to herself, hammering on the dull beige walls of her room with a small fist. “Too much left on Coruscant. Everything I have, everything I was counting on. And Draygo’s stuff. Too much to leave. Too much to just leave. Gotta go there. Somehow. Somehow. Think think think think.” The anxious stammering continued for several minutes, accompanied occasionally by the frustrated pounding against the walls of her room. Someone in the next room started to yell angrily. “Maybe. Just maybe. Urban environment, chaos, lots of verticality, the bastards probably aren’t consolidating their territory. Can they really keep unit cohesion in an environment like Coruscant?” Some things were worth dying for, Sophia had told herself just before setting on this adventure. She fell upon her datapad and set to work. Two hours later, an advertisement was blasted out across Carida’s civilian networks: “Require time on a tri-dorn molprinter capable of molding armor-grade plastoid composite. Est 18 h. Will supply mats, paints, prints, just need the gear. Highest priority, will buy out current contracts if needed. Available?” _______ Six hours later, Sophia found herself in a garage frequented by a local chapter of historical reenactors. She breathed deeply of the scents of oil and welding torches and paint and immediately felt her shoulders loosening, the anxiety in her mind fading away. The historian had never met any of this motley menagerie of humans and aliens, but immediately upon stepping into their territory and inhaling the comforting scents of their craft and having to shout over the din of pounding, she knew that she had met her own people--hobbyists, tech enthusiasts... nerds. Sophia brushed hair out of her face and went over the holoprints of her armor with a well-built human. Only now did she notice that the dark-skinned human had the words “Rebel Scum” tattooed on his knucklebones and she resisted the urge to arch an eyebrow. After seeing the distinctive T-Visor in the armor’s helmet, “Really? You’re gonna recreate a son of Mandalore right after what they did to Coruscant? Too soon?” “Can he do it?” “The plastoid shell…. sure. But this wiring and metalwork for the jetpack… I think you’re gonna need forty-eight for this job.” “That’s fine, I’ll buy out the next two days.” That would drain her life savings to almost nothing, but chances were that she wouldn’t need them much longer. “Shiny. I’ll queue up the parts. Lamarr’s all yours for the next forty-eight hours.” Sophia took a moment to regard the centerpiece of the garage’s equipment, a tri-dorn molprinter that was larger than her hotel room and boasted enough chrome-plated arms to be confused for an ancient torture device. Each of those fiendish appendages terminated in an equally-dangerous device: welding torches, electromagnetic torques, nanoscale forges--everything that a mechanically-inclined and overimaginative individual needed for a great night. Evidently, this clan of historical reenactors had given the machine of “Lamarr”, but Sophia decided that a more masculine name better suited it. “Hello, Mister Zirtech 9001.” She approached the apparatus and stroked one of those arms with an appreciative finger. This one ended in a durasteel vibrosaw and she withdrew well before the blade. “Sing me the song of your people…” Her hand hauled up the canister of plastoid slurry and shoved it into a cylindrical intake. Next followed a spool of heat-treated durasteel wire. Those arms went to work,, traversing around an empty space within the center of the molprinter and applying individual drops of plastoid and steel. Gradually, a grey shell began to take shape around a repulsorframe. After watching the beginnings of a cuirass take shape, Sophia knelt down on the concrete floor and dusted off a square meter of space with her hand. As magnificent as that eight-armed beast of an apparatus was as it performed its craft, there were pieces of work that required a more delicate hand to complete. Producing a mass of thermalweave cloth and a simple needle from her satchel, her fingers deftly raced through the fabric to stitch together a simple garment: a traditional Mandalorian kama. Weaving at least took her mind off the subject of her mortality.
  18. It was an unusual dialect that the Hutt spoke with; some words passed with odd diction, others were dressed with expected satire. Subliminals, conceit, and truth. The creature said more than the words were meant too, and perhaps some of which were intended for the the Anzati King. He was numb to the impressions however, and dangerously so. Exodus spun the hilt of his blade in his palm indifferently, almost a force of habit with the nature of dark thoughts churning inside of his uneasy mind. The Hutt spoke true when it came to the inadequacies of those that had fumbled on Kuat, a shameful representation, but one that did very little to stunt progression. What none of them understood was what it took to build an empire from the inside, the composure and diligence that was required, otherwise they themselves would be heralded as more than just simple vassals of anger. Soon, he would show them the face that every one of them truly feared. As the thought crossed his mind, he sat the skeletal face-helm on his head. "Let us, but I wait for no one." The darkness that covered the warlike metropolis moved in palpable waves. Magnifying with each passing day, festering in and around all living creatures, and filling their minds with anger, vanity, greed, and all emotions of the Dark Side of the Force. On the other hand, Imperial discipline hardened each of them, manacling the citizens of Iziz and the rest of the Sith Empire to do the work of one. On a segregated plateau that overlooked the city of Iziz—the sovereign city built by the living, was now the breathing heart of both the Empire and the Dark Side stood. The locus of the Glass Spire marveled where it stood, built as a black nexus that exuded raw power and attracted additional kogs to the machine of the Sith. The Oracle of the King-Emperor, Vhar Leon strode into the heart of the darkened Spire, flanked by a squad of faceless Imperial Guardsmen, who marched in mute silence behind him. A turbolift brought he and his Guardsmen up to the pinnacle of the Spire, the Emperor's private quarters. A pair of Guardsmen stood guard outside the Emperor's quarters, and they crossed their force pikes as Vhar and his Guardsmen approached. "The Emperor has a visitor," one of them said, though Vhar couldn't tell which with their helmets on. "I'm afraid that I have no choice," Vhar spoke with the accent of the Voss. "I will pass." The Guardsmen hesitated, before uncrossing their pikes. "Be it upon your head, Grand Seer," they warned. The unit of Guardsmen that had accompanied him refused to go further and waited silently as he stepped through the doorway. He could not readily see his Emperor, but the darkness and hatred that filled the room showed that he was still here, Lord Sheog to his surprise as well. Vhar fell to his knees, his head low as a show of subservience. "My Lords," he said, his monotonous voice as flat as it had always been.The Spider seemed to appear out of the shadows, the dark somehow receding slightly, revealing the King before him. "What is it?" Exodus knew that his apprentice had returned, and he understood what it meant now that the Hutt had returned, but Vhar seemed eager. "I believe.. we have found the Jedi."
  19. Ailbasí nodded, wrapped a garment around her face, and looked into the burning remains of her bathroom. Seeing metal glinting in the flames, she gestured to it and with some tugging it came loose and found her hand. It needed to be cleaned, but at least it was back in her possession. “As much as I would love to show you the new me in depth, I need to go check in on my scientist and my murder hobo, make sure that they aren’t killing each other. I promise I will be back soon and we can talk.” She… did her best putting together an outfit that relatively contained her new dimensions, put a black robe on over that, and donned her Sith mask. She may look different now, but that would not compromise her ability to look her role as Sith instructor. The new apprentices would have questions, but that was a good thing. Darth Nyrys walked into a solid beatdown in progress, She wasn’t sure if it was the juice that she had given Mister Snuffles or if his appearance had concealed a greater talent than she expected, but he was unleashing on the poor Chiss like a proper warrior. Well at least the foundations of one. He would need to be honed, reforged from a blunt instrument into a proper blade. The chiss, to his credit, had survived long enough for Ailbasí to die, transfer bodies, and return to the ship, so that meant he was made of sterner stuff than most academics. She gestured and Mister Snuffles was forcefully removed from the Chiss before more permanent damage could be done. Then she took back what was left of the vitality she had given him. He would learn how to secure his own supply in time. “Impressive, most impressive. It’s good to know that we won’t need to dispose of any more bodies today. Although slightly concerning neither of you heard a grenade going off a few rooms over. But that could just be the sound proofing on the ship. I’m not going to hide my situation from you, it’s of value to your education. My original body was a construct and it suffered an integral failure that left me with a choice, murder everyone within a certain radius to repair it or find a new body to serve as a host. While my situation is somewhat unique, the Dark Side will make both of you face similar choices as you progress down the path to power. This is a road of sacrifices, sometimes your own, sometimes the people you care about, sometimes people you’ve never even met before. There are two truths of the Dark Side that you need to be intimately familiar with as we train. The darkness does not respect those that aren’t willing to both seize control of the situation and suffer for their craft. The darkness will consume you if you don’t respect it’s primordial vastness. You must be ruthless in your self inventory when deciding how much of the Dark Side you can control, or you will be swept away. Both of you has a speciality that you are clearly leaning towards, but my first goal is to make sure that you survive long enough to get there. I am going to leave a book of sorts with you to study for the night. Then in the morning I am going to attack you. If you overextended yourself to the point of being unable to defend, you will die. If you don’t study it enough, that is a lost opportunity.” Darth Nyrys placed a black fur bound book on the floor, and gently removed the strap that kept it sealed. She remembered when they removed that skin from her. Crystal pages floated up to form a circle in the room, each one of the ten manifesting a three dimensional image of a body in a different energy color. “This is a Sith pain map, courtesy of the Cartographers of Flesh in the crucible on Korriban. It will teach you the methods and effects of various strikes and pressure points on the body, but each lesson will require you to experience the pain. It will push you, but you will learn a great deal. I will have my crew bring you both meals since you did well sparring today, but I am leaving you to make your own decisions regarding how to approach this. The crew will also show you to your quarters for the night when you decide to retire.” Ailbasí left her apprentices to their own devices and returned to her room, and to Ca’aran. She took off the mask and disrobed before hugging him deeply. She stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him on the forehead, this was intimacy on a deeper level than just lustful need. Some things couldn’t be said with words. “So, I know you’ve been around some pretty pfasked up Sith. And I’ve done some pretty pfasked up things, to get here. But I don’t go out of my way to be mwahaha evil. At first I did what I needed to survive, and now I’m at the point where I do what I need to for us to have the kind of happiness we deserve, but when able I try to minimize the cost, or make the cost come out of people that I feel deserve it. Doesn’t always work that way, but that’s what I try for. Is that okay with you?”
  20. "Does the Master ever truly become the student?" - Genesis Stormhelm Armiena was a bit of weird one for sure, her always having these moments as if she was talking to someone beyond the veil, but I always admitted that they came across strange. Similar to the first time we had met, when I approached and spoke, her attention seemed elsewhere, so I stood in silence, my gaze shifted to where she was looking. A surgeon, tired by the way his presence felt, just as much as hers, still tirelessly doing his duty, as was she. A smile kinda perked up on my face momentarily as I found solace in their efforts. But that disappeared when I remembered why so many had worked themselves into oblivion. As she turned and began talking about persuading others using the Force, I had to admit I felt uncomfortable about it at first. But as she explained the application, it lessened up on feeling like manipulation and felt more like suggesting. So I figured that I would try my hand at it, especially if it benefited those around us more than it hindered. As she spoke though, I could see her own tiredness, and secretly I opened myself up to her, touching at her presence and feeling the exhaustion that was beginning to set in her own form. Opening myself up more, I could feel my own tired presence begin to intertwine and run across her own as I simply nodded in agreement, using my facial expressions and my own drained form to grow suggestive as she was instructing. "Your right Master." I spoke as I let the Force that had built up and intermingled with her own presence release upon her. "You have done all you can. Maybe you should go rest for a bit." Hopefully she hadn't noticed.
  21. "I can help you with that..." Aurora spoke as the two neared the common room, her knowledge of the particular model not so great, but she did have some moderate skills when it came to droids. It was one of the skills she retained from her previous life under the Masters. "Programming, at its core is basic binary commands, a series of zeros and ones linguistically placed as a means of distinguishing protocol and personality. It wouldn't be hard to adapt it to what you need." As the two entered the commons room, Aurora took her place across from Tobias and listened, seeing that he felt his training inadequate and mentioning the woman from before, Sandy, whom aided in her rescue. Aurora smirked as she reached her hand across the table and placed it upon his own, her eyes gazing at his as if telling him that herself, Kota, and Kel would be fine under his tutelage, and that he only needed to be more sure of himself. After all, he had spoken similar words to her own not too long ago. Removing her hand she sat back, her smile still adorned. As she watched him retrieve his beverage, his skill in the Force well beyond her own, as it did as asked with little effort from his psyche. When his gaze fell to her to follow in suit, a hint a nervousness crept up inside her, but she brushed it aside as she remember his words and her own that she had only spoken to him through her contact just moments before. Calming herself, she chose a slightly different path as she instead reached out to the faucet and turned it on, letting the cool liquid pour into the basin and down the drain. Concentrating harder, she cupped a small amount within the Force as the molecules within binded together in an almost nearly circular sphere of liquid as she pulled it toward her before she let it drain into her mouth and down her throat, his next words catching her off guard and causing her to strangle slightly. "Not much. I've only heard of them during my time under the Masters, and were considered gifted with the Mother's Bre.... The Force." She spoke as she coughed and cleared her throat. "My life was in servitude to the Masters and those they chose to call allies, including my own people. Besides my Masters and the Kwa, I only dealt with the few races I was assigned to oversee as an Architect. Why do you ask?"
  22. Earlier
  23. Kota felt like he was feeling pushed down and over weighted by so many decisions. Although, none of them were actual decisions, but rather just the feeling of something that he had to accomplish. He felt the pressure to find his sister. He felt pressure to perform well before his master. He felt pressure to filter things out. And all of that pressure felt like a great weight that was clogging up his own mind and locked him in a position of where he could no longer feel a direct feeling from one source or another. Trying his best to calm himself down, he reached back out into the Force in an attempt to feel, but all that came into his mind was chaos of emotions. It felt like an endless wave-an impossible task given to him. Almost as if he was asked to find a spark of light flashing within a sun. The sheer thought of him trying to find anything that could help them felt like he would fail outright. Trying to breathe in and out slowly allowed for him to find some form of focus. Letting each breathe reset his own emotions to reduce them into nothing. He felt like he had been sitting on the floor of the ship for a good few months almost before he opened his eyes. Instinctively, he reached out to Tobias through the Force. I... I think I found something...
  24. I want to announce that Bobby is once again a RP mod. Unfortunately, Courtney has had a lot of RL crap going on, and in the interest of keeping things going in the Mod planning areas Bobby has stepped up to carry her load. Thank you for the job we know you'll do well, brother.
  25. Terra’s eyes flicked over her HUD, her dilated pupils absorbing the fractal lighting of the 360-degree viewscreen. She could feel her heart racing in her chest, the rhythm matching the roar of the gods in her ears. The rivermud, mixed with her own blood, seared her flesh beneath her armor. As the song of war began in earnest, Terra began to shake. One word burned her mind as she readied her weapons, watching the Jedi prepare for the fight. Obliteration. She chose Sanguis Exhaurire for her right hand. Its call was for blood, and it mimicked Kad Ha’Rangir’s desires in its creation. The feeling of the familiar handle, curved and worn in her palm, brought a smile to her lips. The combat AI recognized her choice and drew a firing arc from the input of the weapon’s red-rot style site. It would be a cone of death, filled with explosive darts. For her left hand, she selected one of the sonic pistols she had picked up from when she had slain Slicer on Coruscant. She watched as the Jedi’s blade snapped to life before her, filling the air with its self-righteous hum and vibrant silver flame. Her HUD adjusted its filters to remove the excess light so that Terra’s dilated eyes would not become overwhelmed. A scent filled her nostrils, the sweet perfume of the Vormer in bloom. The precious flowers that she had trampled on the banks of the Kelita. She had stained their roots and stems with innocent blood, but now their scent came as a blessing. Her mind twisted it. The blood had to be purified, and only fire would be fit for it. Her combat AI began to analyze her opponent as she selected the first attack for herself. Cleansing fire. The voice of Kad Ha’Rangir raged through her mind in the battle-song. …My tongue shall become of molten iron and my words the mighty roar of war… Her jetpack began to prepare for a microburst as the Jedi moved her blade into a pre-attack, the AI alerting Terra to the Jedi’s most likely attack pattern. Jedi were either diplomatic pacifists or impatient whelps, and Terra decided the girl before her would most likely represent the latter. …With divine anger my fire shall alight the furnace through which all will be purified… As the Jedi sprung, Terra leapt into motion. Jumping to the side, her jetpack shot forth a burst that propelled the Mandalorian at incredible speed. The Jedi flew straight like an arrow, forth to end the threat quickly, but Terra would not be there to hit. The Mandalorian followed the arc of the circular arena away, angling to keep distance from the Jedi and her blazing blade. A serpentine coil of liquid flame burst into the ring, a cone of wavering fire that erupted from Terra’s right gauntlet as she moved. The Jedi, like a hapless vhe'viin, would leap into a whirlwind of fire. Like billowing magma, molten and terrible the blaze spewed from Terra’s right arm. It was a short burst of flame, for Terra did not want to obscure the whole arena in fire, but it would be enough to roast the Jedi into a desiccated and deformed corpse. Terra landed, bringing her weapons to bear once more as he HUD began to search for any unauthorized movement. Her voice became a bestial howl. ((1))
  26. “You’re working with Aliastra Interstellar, an arms designer negotiating manufacturing contracts and conducting trials for a new carbine, codenamed ‘Borcatu.’” Slaughter’s stubby fingers activated a miniature holoprojector and passed it across the desk. The image was that of a boxy, inelegant blaster carbine--clearly a model that was optimized for ease of manufacture. “There are several arms manufacturers on Dark Sun and it will provide you with an excuse to carry a live weapon while on board.” His lips thinned. “Yes, it’s real. Please don’t let the prints fall into Black Sun’s hands. We’ve briefed several intel operatives on the mission and your weapons--all excellent men, you will have your pick. You’ll have a clean transport--no connection to the Galactic Alliance or Imperials. But work as quickly as practical. The fleet will be going in regardless of your success, and soon. “The Galactic Alliance needs the Imperials operational again, or… we’re looking at something like the old days of the Rebellion. Any questions?” ____ The Steadfast’s/ air traffic control responded within a few seconds of Andromina’s hail. “Permission to land granted, follow the beacons to hangar two. The Admiral will want to see you. Proceed as quickly as possible, we’re scheduled to push off in five.” Indeed, several ships of the Galactic Alliance fleet had completed their repairs and were vectored towards a hyperspace route, and the flashing lights drifting away from the MC90’s hull indicated the completion of repairs. ((Steadfast, Fidelity, Phalanx, Kalidor, Surprise, Audacity, and Incisor take off and prepare to leave.))
  27. The flight of TIE defenders arrived beside the vectoring Galactic Alliance fleet transmittign a friendly Templar IFF. These were the most elite special forces unit in the Imperial Remnant’s Navy. They had fought and killed Sith on Kuat, and were now joining the fight for returning their empress. Their Commander, Beth, signalled their intention to dock on the capital ship to preserve fuel and coordinate with the GA military strike teams. “Prepare for harnessless landing on the flight deck boys and girls. No racks like on the Star Destroyers.” Her voice was a bit hoarse but she had recovered mostly from the wounds she had suffered on Kuat. When the Templars with their red painted solar panel’s had received permission from the GA, they landed on board the Steadfast.
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