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  1. Today
  2. The Scarab was immense, a bigger, blacker expression of the Dark Lord’s power than even the spire on Onderon. As much a status symbol as a machine of war, the Scarab offered far more logistical support to the Sith aboard it than most capital ships. For the first time in what seemed like too long, Nyrys had access to a forge again. Forging arms and armor were in their own way snapshots of Nyrys’s life. Whatever she made reflected the trials she was facing at the time, a moment of conflict cast into permanence Sith steel and sorcery. She bid her apprentice observe her as she worked, for his own edification. She was proficient enough with the Force to shape the metals through will alone, but she was fond of the traditional methods of hammer and anvil. The heat, exertion, and rhythm allowed her mind to wander to other places, to rummage through deeper ambitions and desires. The fleet was rallying in totality so she had time to work in depth on her new weapon. Gwn Marwolaeth was an excellent all around blade, but Nyrys wanted something more specialized towards thrusting in the advent of combat in tight spaces.The blade was forty inches long from guard to point at full extension, with a two handed grip and guard. A combination of technology and sorcery allowed the blade to secure or slide through the hilt and out the pommel, creating a blade that could shorten or even reverse direction at will. She called it a slipblade, and she was rather pleased with how it turned out. The next stage of the work was new territory for Nyrys, a process of cursing the blade so heavily that it was essentially poisonous. The maleficence of the curses would cause necrosis upon a successful stabbing, filling the body with lethal toxins. The curses were tattooed onto captives, who were then flayed, and the flesh was wrapped around the blade and burned until it transubstantiated into maladictive runes. Nyrys wrote curses of vengeance for Kuat, and for her loved ones that had died there. The steel blackened and radiated an ethereal glow of sickly green. “I will call you Brathiad Gwynt.” She spent a great deal of time familiarizing herself with her new weapon and sparring with Drago, who was getting to be solidly average with the lightsaber. She still took a sample for cloning purposes anyway. Sorcerers were… vulnerable during their early periods of training. With her new weapon she headed to the bridge of the Scarab to stand with the Dark Lord in his crusade.
  3. Kel's gaze was fixed upon the lightsaber in his hand. Like many others he was waiting for the moment they would be sent into battle. As a Jedi and a sage of the Baran do he abhorred the thought of killing senselessly. Like the Sith, the dark sun spread chaos and crushed many worlds under their tyranny. To Kel they were practically one and the same. Still, he would be lying to himself if he thought part of him wasn't feeling a tinge of anxiety. He had seen battles before battle before through his master's teachings and even witnessed the fallout of it firsthand on Chandrila. This would be his first time fighting on the frontlines. his thoughts were interrupted when his communicator pinged. he saw that it was a message from master on an encrypted channel. Kel hooked his lightsaber back on his belt loop and went to leave the shuttle while reaching out through the force with his mental presence asking the fellow jedi to follow him. once the two of them left the shuttle, he showed her his communicator and the two of them listened to the briefing in private away from any eavesdroppers. Kel felt a resonance with Master Adenna as she gave out orders. A lot of her words mirrored his thoughts as well as his beliefs. It was a great reassurance that someone like her was leading the order. He was also surprised to see that master Tobias had joined them. He also wondered for a moment why he heard master Sandy over the transmission as well. wasn't she tending the wounded on the medical frigate? Did she plan on fighting in spite of her recent injuries? If Kel knew her as well as he thought, it was most likely the latter. once transmission ended Kel couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "If I know my master, she'll probably be joining us soon. I did what I could to heal her after the battle with the Mandalorians, but she still hasn't fully recovered yet. she's certainly skilled, but in her current condition, we're gonna have to do most of the leg work. I'll be counting on you Aleria."
  4. Adenna was on the bridge of the Adi-Wan when Delta's message asking for terms came through. Though she didn't want to respond, she felt it was needed. Without identifying herself, she spoke calmly and clearly over the general comms. "The Jedi Order will not allow terrorists to hide behind unarmed hostages, nor use them as shields. It is time for Black Sun to face justice. Any ship that does not want to be destroyed should remain powered down and their crews will be treated according to Galactic POW conventions. Any ship that is fighting will be destroyed. If the Empress is harmed, all Black Sun prisoners after this battle will be considered war criminals and tried as such." When all were in position, Adenna watched as Admiral Antilles ordered the attack in conjunction with their Galactic Alliance allies. The ships of Fleet Group One and the Relief Flotilla commenced their assault. The Adi-Wan began to advance into a position to be able to use its substantial firepower against the Black Sun capital ships while the frigates, minus their interdictor, focused their firepower against the nearest Victory class Star Destroyer. The corvettes would primarily serve as anti-fighter screens. Several squadrons of fighters and the bombers remained out of the fray, waiting for the enemy to become engaged so they could escort the assault shuttles against the station itself.
  5. Yesterday
  6. Qaela stared out through the viewport of the shuttle carrying her and some of her more trusted allies and beheld the Sith fleet. She had seen it once before, but it had been far too long. With so many ships arriving, it took time for her to receive clearance even in a ship as large as the Black Scarab, but when they finally did land, she departed and took a deep breath. The atmosphere in the hangar bay was positively charged, full of energy and anticipation. Nobody knew where they were going, but it didn't much matter: there would be a fight and conquest. She sent a text based message to Dark Lord Exodus informing him of her arrival and decided to wait until he had need of her. There was no need to try to interfere with him or start vying for position among the other Sith leadership. Influence among the Sith didn't matter to her, most of it would only lead to rivalries and potential death. She would happily bide her time in the shadows, fulfilling whatever needs the Dark Lord needed of her and waiting until the correct opportunity to take action presented itself. Despite the large number of Force users here, she did sense the presence of her daughter and made it a goal to meet with her when the time was right. Until then, she waited for the dockmaster to assign her and her four allies quarters on the massive ship and would patiently prepare for what was to come.
  7. Last week
  8. The Sith combined force from Korriban joined the black Scarab at the described location. The massive troop ships falling in beside the frigates and cruisers, before one by one docking at the Scarab. Valinor motioned her apprentice to follow her before she began the hike to the bride of the SSD ((Describe how you feel seeing a super star destroyer, then us arriving at the bridge))
  9. ((Armiena Draygo)) Armiena reached to her side and shut down the holorecorder, causing the azure ghost of her form to waver and fade. For a few seconds, she just placed her chin on the peak of her fingers and stared into the unfamiliar controls of the B-Wing. Sensor data, fed to the heavy starfighter by the arrays of the Justice’s Mandate, continued to waver as the ships of the formation danced their ballet of brinksmanship. Finally, she reached under her leg and withdrew a comlink. The device had been recording all throughout the meeting, beginning with the moment that the corpulent body of Bruce Slaughter had appeared. “We need to get on that station,” the veteran Jedi eventually declared. She climbed onto the wing of the fighter-bomber and shoved away the excess weapons she had gathered (“What the pfask!” shouted one of the deck hands at seeing her domain being littered.) “Minimal killing, might need to actually talk to someone there--oh, good, ion cannons. They’re going to vape the station the moment that Zinthos is clear. Can’t let that happen,” she continued, clambering back into the two-seater cockpit and checking the straps on the portable life-support vest. “Too much intel, too much creditflow, too much… people.” “Genesis,” she turned around, facing her apprentice with a grin. “You have any time in an A/SF-01? Sims or the real deal?” ____ ((Bruce Slaughter)) Bruce stepped away from the holocomm, the image of the Jedi Grandmaster and the ad hoc council winking out of existence along the wall. Behind him, a junior officer was waiting with apprehension written on the face of the Durosian, a comlink in his hands. That would have been the Black Sun commander, the dilettante who had answered when Slaughter had allowed his temper to get the better of him and idiotically mouthed off to the entire star system. “Yeoman. Standing order to the bridge crew.” Slaughter’s face twisted into a half-hearted attempt at a grim smile. “I am not to be allowed to transmit on a comlink over an open frequency. Ever. Wrestle it out of my hands if you have to.” The Admiral plodded towards the center of the bridge and leaned heavily on the tactical pit. Somewhere in the background, a comlink was still buzzing with the Black Sunner’s attempt to contact the Galactic Alliance flagship. It was time to give the commander their response. “Commence the attack.” At that moment, the starboard batteries of the Steadfast rained crimson fire along the flight path of the Audacity and Surprise, gently encouraging any starfighters and corvettes in their sector to take evasive maneuvers as the twin DP20 Gunships plowed into the breach with a wing of X-Wings. Steadfast and Fidelity then took a hard turn to starboard, bringing their portside batteries to bear upon the Holofernes. Seconds later, the twin capital ships of the Galactic Alliance opened fire with matching boardsides upon the Star Destroyer, their barrage accompanied by the lighter broadsides of the heavy cruisers within their formation.
  10. "We've intercepted a leak," a communications specialist announced. "Overall, it gives us a schematic for the conditions ahead." The diversified crew assembled in front of her subconsciously shuddered at the mention of the information delivered. Where it had all started. "So what are you asking, we have our orders?" A blonde-haired man near the back asked. The burly Onderonian in the front raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. "What strategic purpose would this hold?" Another spoke, a pilot and one of the veteran leaders of the squadron that was active in the battle previous to this. The conversations continued and the squadron's collectives eyes widened at the new content being divulged and shared between the council. But somewhere, deep down inside, they relished the negotiations left on the table. They looked to each other, as if affirming something. ///////// Emperor Exodus, better known as the Dark King of the Sith, watched from the bridge of the Sith Star Dreadnaught The Black Scarab. He had commissioned it when he was puppeteering the strings of a fresh governing body to better organize the failing brotherhood of the Sith, and thus it held a critical place in what remained of his heart. A veritable ocean of ensigns assaulted his ears as they gave each other orders pertaining to the preparation and maintenance of the ship. The Warmonger Flotilla exited hyperspace in the black of space. The Emperor had ordered all available personnel to be shifted to this rendezvous point, and for good reason. Morale lifted higher and higher throughout the ranks as names that had seemed to disappear from public view, returned to the fore fearlessly, prepared to deliver for their leader. The Sith Empire gathered.
  11. Recycled air. With a deep, slobbering breath, The Mountain of Filth could taste nothing but the faint essence of the ozone the filtration system used to scrub the air clean of impurities. Another breath and the Hutt’s gullet shuddered. He smelled dirt, despoiling uncleanliness and witchcraft. A fat, grotesque hand steadied the insane Hutt. A spawn of that witch Quaeala. Telpie? Telperonion? Some strange name. Would she be whore like her mother or a spoiled man-child like her father? The Master of the Krath stooped to enter to bridge of the Scarab. Even such a large blast door was small for his oversized frame. His crimson eyes stared across the assembled crew and fell upon the lithe frame of the Dathomiri girl. She looked much different than he had remembered. Skinchanger perhaps. With an awkward cough, the Hutt gave the girl a small wave. The bridge was packed with people, and he felt he might need to clarify that he did not come with an explosive ship. He moved his pipe from his lips, letting a greeting be carried to her along with the smoke. <<Greetings child of Ar-Pharazon. Nice…>> His gaze skimmed over her tunic. She looked oddly legal, which he did not expect. He couldn’t have been gone that long. <<Arrows. Yes. Arrows. Wonderful weapon for space conflicts. Yes.>> “Excuse me sir, there is no smoking on the bridge!” The Hutt stammered for a second, caught off his guard by the reproach and turned his bulk to appraise the speaker. The woman no fleet uniform, but wore a flowing dress, which did not accent her purple hair at all. The Hutt took another breath of his precious tobacco and stared at the woman. <<Who are you?>> The woman gave him a stern and patronizing smile. “You are a trouble-maker aren’t you. My name is Vice-Admiral Holdor” The Hutt pursed his lips and glanced over the bridge staff who was looking at him in horror. Apparently this woman deserved undeserved respect out of nowhere <<By the looks of you, you either slept your way to the top or sued Human Resources to give you the fleet stripes.>> The woman’s hands curled into fists before she crossed her arms and tapped a foot in frustration. “Typical misogyny. Something i am doing my utmost to remove from this fleet! When I served under Darth Emily she would always say… Hope is like the sun. If you only believe in it when you can see it, you'll never make it through the night." The Hutt’s brow furrowed. <<What is this, the worst holofilm in a once respected series?>> Sheog turned to the child of Ar-Pharazon, letting the Force flow to her with a feeling of ravenous hunger. Perhaps the witch would drink the woman's soul. Or spirit. Or whatever witches did these days. <<Am I hallucinating? I can never tell these days. The veil of the force is so thin…>>
  12. The Black Sun ships maintained their position under the cover of the station. Outnumbered two to one, the proud navy of the oldest criminal underground organization stood ready to die under the heavy guns of the once formidable galactic alliance, that old and decrepit organization. That foul alliance had spanned the galaxy for nearly a decade, the combined foetus of mother Empire and father New Republic, destined for the garbage bins where it should have been left a decade before. But for now its last waning strength was martialed against the Black Sun. Whose last Prince stood defiant on the bridge of his star destroyer, looking death in the face. “Marie give us a target map while we wait for their response.” The teenage captain, her brunette hair tied back above her cybernetic unit nodded at him and her holographic image shifted out of its place to stand beside him as the heavy sensors of the Marie reported back in detail the full locations of the enemy fleet, as well as the two interdictors who blocked easy escape. “Tightband it. Send it out. Now. Prepare for sensor jamming, alert the Uriels as well.” Before all communications were jammed by the enemy fleet, this would at least get out. In a few seconds the packet had hit the holonet and disappeared into the stars. The young commander of the Marie nodded and her holograph disappeared. He pointed at the main comms officer, and the channel to the Alliance was opened again. “Well do we have terms?” His hands gripped the bridge railing in front of him. His bright blue eyes narrowed to slits.
  13. Drago had never in his wildest imagination thought to be called to combat for his new lord so soon. But he would be damned if he didn't perform to the best of his abilities. Also somewhere in his mind a realization dawned on him. One he had never honestly felt before. For her, for his dark mistress, even for three, he would if need be lay down his life. The galaxy needed reborn and he believed that those two could do it. His life in the grand scheme of things meant very little but the galaxy needed to be freed and he would do all in his power to assist. The shuttle was not the largest he had been on but there was still plenty of room for practicing with not only his new light sabre, but with some abilities he had thought of while studying the ancient texts of the sith. His prior martial training in both the Thrysian and Echani fencin styles proved very usefull, the difficulty was the fact that now all the weight of the weapons was in his hand with no counter balance. It took some time but eventually after hours of training he felt more comfortable with the weapon, at least while using the Thrysian style of fencing. Practicing with the force was also a high priority, not simply moveing things and using abilities like force push, or throwing the sabre, but a few of his own design, he only hoped that his master would approve of the move and help him perfect it.
  14. The eldritch composition of the Sith fleet brooded across the lower orbit of Onderon. Black color-crafts trimmed with the red of battle blood washed each of the vessels that prowled the dark skies. The Black Scarab mounted the planet as crown jewel while the rest of the flotilla moved into a synonymous formation. The Sith Star Dreadnought steered the likes of the Imperial II-class Star Destroyer, the Bleeding Kyber. Warspite, Sunder, Hyperion and Blackblade cut their vessels into the black of space as an escort to their command ship. The collective armies and the bodies that conducted them were now aboard and moments away from their jump to the rendezvous coordinates. Those that abandoned the call of their King, would be ostracized from their ruling campaign indiscriminately. (Sith Fleet leaves for Space.)
  15. Adenna nodded at Slaughter and, considering the lack of true opposition, sighed at the decision before them. "Then we attack. Master Vos, take your ship in if you can, as well as all with you. Work with the GA Marines and our other shuttles, we will assault the station from multiple locations. The Empress is Force sensitive, and likely her pain will be a beacon. Have all the Jedi to use that pain as a guide to her location while the Marines secure the way." To Slaughter, she said, "Civilian casualties are to be avoided, but there likely isn't anyone truly innocent on that station, so do not put your men in danger over them." She addressed Master Draygo, "Once the Empress is secure, we will pull whatever intel we can quickly acquire and evacuate. Let the station melt along with any Black Sun ships that refuse to surrender. If the Empress is killed, evacuate and the fleet will slag it. That station is too valuable to be left in the hands of the enemy so they can continue to generate more and more money for the expansion of their criminal and terrorist enterprises. Any corporation who takes losses can suffer them as is their right for doing business with such a corrupt entity. "The plan is as it was: the fleet punches a hole through to the station for our assault shuttles. The assault teams land and rescue the Empress and whatever other captives may be on the station. They evacuate once they have secured her. The fleet will destroy whatever Black Sun ships don't surrender. Any enemy ship that is firing is to be slagged, but any enemy ship that is disabled or powered down is to be spared until after the fight." With a pointed look at the Galactic Alliance commander, she said, "The Jedi Order doesn't condone indiscriminate slaughter. We bring justice to the guilty, but we also aren't going to massacre the helpless. Let the courts try any prisoners and give them fair justice after the battle is over. "May the Force be will us all." With one last somber nod, she turned and left the briefing room to return to the bridge so she could be there when the fighting began. As soon as she was there and received readies from all ships in the fleet, the attack would begin in earnest. One way or another, many scum would receive justice long overdue.
  16. The stay on Mandalore had changed over the days of sensor silence, drifting from tense preparations to idle hours spent training beneath a specter of uncertainty. Some thought that the Crusaders were building up their forces for an overwhelming assault, others believed that the horde had buckled under its own explosive expansion and imploded. Lissi had coordinated with the Mandalorians to retain some combat instructors for 03, both to sharpen his unarmed combat skills and to strengthen ties with the locals. While she could certainly deliver a lethal show of force while unarmed, Nyrys’ own methods were far removed from the precision strikes prevalent in 03’s style, instead capitalizing on the presence of heavy armor, leverage, throws, and bending things in ways they were not meant to be bent. Engineering versus artistry and all that. Drago was thriving in his research, completing his assignments with thoroughness and imagination. While her two apprentices conversed, a dispatch came in for Nyrys, from Onderon. War had come for them after all. It was only a matter of time really. She sent a message to an old mentor on Korriban, along with a healthy sum of credits for the work if he chose to accept the offer. There were too many fakes on the market to trust a third party on this matter. After the present storm was weathered she could teach her apprentices how to forge their own arms, but for now they would get acceptable substitutes. At least one Sith would need to remain planetside as a sign of Sith presence to the Mandalorian leadership. At first glance Drago seemed the natural choice, his training was about to bear serious fruit, and while having some martial background, he wasn’t the brawler that 03 was. However, without supervision, his desire to experiment and insatiable curiosity could easily lead to a faux pas that might damage or even sever diplomatic ties. Better to leave the nascent warrior among his own. Besides, sooner or later, Drago would need to face the enemies of the Sith. “Sons of mine, the Dark Lord has called his banners and mobilized the fleet. While I had hoped to have time to teach you to craft your own weapons, we have been summoned with a great deal of urgency. So for now, I have gifts for you. When I was an apprentice on Korriban, I gained a reputation for my work in the forge, where I studied under the forgemaster. A Sith of higher rank sought me out for my talents, and thought that they could secure my services through death threats. This Sith underestimated me, thought that our difference in status made me harmless. Suffice it to say, I ate her and took her weapons. It’s not our place in the world that defines us, but how hard we’re willing to fight for a better position. I don’t want to have to bury either of you, so I’m going to teach you how to push yourselves outside of what you believe are your limits. Drago, this was Lady Keenava’s lightsaber, you will take it and join me in answering the Dark Lord’s summons. May you find your worth in the coming conflict. Zero Three, you will remain here as a symbol of good faith to the Mandalorians. I have arranged for you to study under some of their weapon masters, you will learn everything they have to teach you, and you will impress them with your discipline and drive. Here you will find your voice, and achieve respect in their eyes. These people are of good warrior stock, so build a life here, find a lover if it suits you, and begin to meld our ways with theirs. You’ve already started to speak with us, but on Mandalore you will truly find your voice. My gift to you is these knives, Sith crafted and able to extend on chains like a whip, and a Massassi Lanvarok which will find its way here shortly, a weapon of great history and significance in Sith culture.” Darth Nyrys knew that both apprentices would struggle with their assigned tasks, but that was the point. To make them flourish through conflict. Speaking of conflict, she had her own issue to resolve so that she could be focused on the battle. She needed to get past the guilt and do the right thing. Lissi was right where Nyrys expected to find her, in her personal quarters. Nyrys had caught her watching her sleep more times than she cared to count. There was an intensity in the girl’s eyes whenever she saw the Sith, but Nyrys doubted that she had always been that way. This was a monster of her own making. Lissi, unaware of Nyrys’ intentions, closed the distance to kiss her. Nyrys had been such a child when she twisted the poor girl’s mind. What had once felt like a moment of empowerment and growth now only served to make her think of a child’s finger painting gone horribly wrong. It was a bitter lesson that could only be learned through personal experience, absolute power and complete certainty were not immune to bad decision making. She had pfasked up majorly, and all of the fallout had landed on somebody that didn’t deserve it. Maybe this was why so many Sith were moral relativists or had wholly given themselves over to the Darkness, to hide from the consequences of their actions. Nyrys wasn’t going to hide from what she did, not anymore, but she wasn’t going to abandon her philosophy over a mistake. But what even was her philosophy anymore? In the beginning she had endeavored to only harm the wicked and the guilty, and for the most part was successful. But her power had a smaller footprint back then. Now she felt like a giant timidly trying to move without stepping on ants. A shark cannot survive in a fishbowl. And yet even her new powers were miniscule in impact compared to the larger conflict, which routinely toppled or destroyed the lives of billions. The Jedi claimed to be heroes, but they had abandoned whatever light there was to be found in the galaxy in favor of dogma and self righteousness. Maybe one day the illusion could be shattered and a new faith could restore the light to the galaxy instead of trying to claim they owned that light. Maybe that was her philosophy now, burn away the past mistakes that haunted so many to create a better galaxy. She wouldn’t just break her own chains, she would break the chains that bound the galaxy in its brutal cycle. She would start with burning away her own chains. She put her hands on Lissi’s neck… “You’ve always been better to me than I ever deserved. This isn’t about you doing something wrong or not doing something right, it’s just the only way I know how to get back to the person who deserves you, and whom you deserve. I don’t expect forgiveness from you, but I hope you find some measure of happiness in her arms.” She squeezed. It needed to be with her bare hands. It needed to be personal. The looks of shock and betrayal cut deeper than she expected, but she held the course. Even when the light left Lissi’s eyes, when her feeble attempts to struggle stopped and her body went limp, she held the course. She kissed Lissi’s forehead like a mother kissing a child goodnight, and then she drew the girl’s soul into her crimson heartstone. Moments later, Lissi’s remains were naught but ash and cinders. The ashen figure, unable to maintain its own integrity, collapsed and coated the room in grey. The color seemed appropriate, Nyrys had always been a liminal being. Neither completely human or alien, unwilling to see herself as completely good or evil, broken yet thriving. A vagabond of blurred identity in a galaxy often clearly defined in stark black and white. “Now your chains are broken too.” She left the room unburdened. ================================ A shuttle arrived for them, privately booked and with the captain fully expecting a mindwipe. Nyrys didn’t want her new ship getting marked as a Sith one this early on. She had started Drago on basic form training, he was already familiar enough with the aspects of sword fighting such as footwork and spacing, and the biggest obstacle was getting him adjusted to the weightlessness of the blade. She had him training against a remote currently, out of fear of straight up murdering him if she entered the training circle against him. Not because he was doing anything wrong, she was just struggling with the realities of having a healthy body for the first time in her life. Her emotions were tempestuous, everything hurt, and after one of the crew members had suggested sweets as a potential relief she ate so much that she got sick and spent an even more miserable period of time hunched over a refresher. The human digestive system was clearly designed by a drunken deity, a total jerk, or someone completely unable to commit to decisions. Possibly all three. When she had been mostly Cathar, it was simple and delicious. As a meatavore it was all meat all the time. Now it was meat and fruit and vegetables and dairy and grains, but not too much of any one thing or else it was misery and vomiting. Making up your pfasking mind, stomach. She had also lost a great deal of range in terms of her senses, but in that area the Force had stepped in to make up the difference, and then some. The way she experienced the world was different now. Emotions and experiences had color, texture, even taste. Some were saccharine or savory, others sour or bitter. Waiting in line tasted like unflavored oatmeal. Which was a thing that she now knew the taste of. The spectrum of how she fought and moved had widened too, although that was on account of her assassin training and not her new body, mostly. Her fitness regimen was much more balanced between strength and agility this time around, and her flexibility and coordination were things that actually existed now. She was experimenting with enhancing her mobility through the Force, and misdirecting opponents through illusionry. Every day she strengthened her bond with Gwn Marwolaeth through an intense training regimen. The sword had been a part of her since its creation, but now there was a familiarity to it that allowed her to wield it with ease. She embraced 03 before boarding the shuttle, he would have access to her ship which was practically a flying luxury house, and a credit account that she had set up for him, but money and nice things couldn’t solve everything. She worried, but she also knew that he was strong, within and without, and had survived many tribulations that had broken others. She handed him the lanvarok as a final gift before parting. “May you find the strength to break your chains.” With those words, they parted, and Darth Nyrys and Drago headed to rendezvous with the Sith fleet.
  17. Earlier
  18. The Force Shall Free Me And there was the answer he had searched for, the conviction in her voice and in her wisdom, hashed out an unbelievable level of persuasion. It made sense to him, and her words drove home a belief he would need to shatter the chains that anchored him to a world of confusion. It was interesting really, he could almost feel the weight of those very chains, shrinking in their burden as she spoke confidently to the only two men she cared to share her time with. Perhaps he had been so impaired with unlocking the mysteries to his own mind, so marred with selfishness, that he could not see that the two alongside him had chains of their own that needed breaking. Ball and chain metaphors were excuses for the pain and loss that each of them suffered from, or the disabilities and detachment that plagued their lifestyles. His own captivity was at the mercy of insatiable slavers, but his true imprisonment rested within his thoughts, both sides of the coin trying to break him at every turn. The Code was all that mattered, a constitution that bounded unified his new family. Before the two of them, Three had appeared differently now. Semblances of his frail appearance had faded entirely, replaced with a red-blooded hardiness that oozed from his presence. A dark cloak covered him whole, hooded over his facial features, falling across the more powerful build of his body. Three could not notice this, but the Force hauntingly played part in a rapid maturation of his muscularity. The density and power of his skeletal structure transformed innately, feeding on a unanimous power source that humidified his soul. His long ivory mane stretched further now, personifying a creature of the wild, with features more frightening than the common folk from whence he started his journey. He was as still as stone, the equanimity of a Gargoyle, hawkishly watching over his family as they traded words. As silent as he was throughout all of this, meant that the knowledge he consumed, was digested faster and more effectively. Imaginings of the Code, and how he could rewrite his life with the philosophy of the Sith was where his fantasies would take him. And then Drago spoke, returning him to the here and now. "..Brother." Three bowed his head lightly to Drago, and then deeply to his Master, turning to trail his blue friend. The sickeningly deep sound of his voice, still a surprise to any that could hear his words.
  19. Live? I suppose you could called what state Eve existed in 'Life' as the Melodie followed the two in a twisted manner, her skin and garbs covered in her own blood as the frail and thin being barely managed to stand upon her own two feet as her knees nearly buckled beneath her stage for the stave she propped herself up upon. It took every ounce of energy she held to take each step she took in tow, even as her Reel companion Lusif made a quick entrance to catch her as she nearly fell when they neared the shuttle. Her hand attempted to shoo him away, but only found solice in his scales as he reeled his head high to keep her afoot. No. What she existed within wasn't considered life. It was a mere limbo between the two existences, as her life ended the day that ship destroyed not only the sanctuary of her people, but revealed the cowardice ways of her Elders whom clung to the protection of the waters while the younglings she protected found only death. Only the symbol that adorn the harbinger of her people's demise kept her from finding the embrace of either existence, the symbol of the being before her, the Spider. Life... Death... neither seemed possible until her vengeance was complete. As the shadow of the Scarab flickered upon her face, her gaze shimmered of the fire within her chest, the remnants of her heritage glowing brightly in the darkness after living her entire life in the darkened halls of her people's underground hatcheries like generations before her. But as the light of the Scarab's innards shown brightly upon her bloodied attire, it was subtly hinted at that she was the first to have adapted to life outside. Struggling still to take her steps into the unknown, her gaze never shifted from the two before her as she bore their existences into her memory forever. And as the young girl before poised her questions, she remained silent, unable to give her an answer vocally thanks to the burnt flesh beneath her bandages. All she could do was bare her cold and deadly stare toward the two, much like that of her Reel companion, her breathing being the only thing voiced. Yet, her thoughts spoke louder than anything she could speak. Death and decay? That is who she is. Forethought and Darkness? That was her soul. Evil? That was who they had made her to be. Like the precipice of dusk, on the twilight eve of darkness, the light within was slowly fading into blackness. And as her gaze stared intently at Telperiën, Eve smiled grizzly, her teeth stained with her own blood. "Evil begets evil."
  20. ((Bruce Slaughter)) Bruce Slaughter couldn’t have possibly missed the flash of recognition that briefly crossed the face of the former Jedi Grandmaster, despite the fact that the two had almost certainly never met. There was no mistaking the twinge of her lips as anything but utter disgust. But the Admiral couldn’t spare a moment to reflect on what might have inspired that glance of disgust; billions of lives were depending on the outcome of this battle. Thoughts of what the Black Sunners might do flit through his mind: yes, they might execute the Imperial Head of State, they might attempt a break-out, they might even scuttle the entire station out of spite. All of those were possibilities; what the Admiral knew was that to retrieve Zinthos, they would have to assault the station directly. The casualties would be enormous and they might not even reach their quarry in time. Unless… “No time for a siege or anything subtle, just take the station head on and try to reach Zinthos before they execute her. We’ll take our forces along the starboard and catch the Star Destroyers in a crossfire. Suggest that your Jedi spearhead assault and my marines will hold the door open. You can move more quickly than us--and if she is wounded, she may need a healer.” ____ ((Armiena Draygo)) For a few seconds, Draygo just looked at Alluyen, her stony expression affording her an appearance not entirely unlike that of an overgrown bird-of-prey. Then she glanced towards her side at a speaker not within the holoprojector’s field of view and a muscle in her cheek twitched. It was true, Black Sun was one of the most prolific purveyors of the most repulsive trade in the galaxy--few beings would regret any casualties required to bring them low and even fewer would mourn the destruction of the criminal syndicate. But she had seen this scenario before. Armiena hadn’t been present, but she had watched the sensor data, over and over and over until she wanted to tear her hair out. All she said was: “And the station?”
  21. It was a common occurrence, to be viewed as less than. I was a painful sting that I had bore my entire life. My clan had been wiped out by our very own people due to this, yet I had long let go the hatred I held for its stigmata. But as I stepped forth from the door in nothing but standard issue armorweave, the chest plate and pauldrons of my ancient armor in my arms along with my blades, I found myself face to face with its brunt realization once again, the sting never lessening as my blinded gaze fell upon the two before me. "Canderous Bralor." I spoke as my face shifted to the side, the empty sockets of my Miraluka bloodline uncovered by the disguarded helm I could no longer hide beneath. "But most call me Dar'Manda." His companion was like so many of our kin, their distaste for the tainted blood that coursed through my veins long considered a curse upon my Clan. I could never understand why some Mandalorians feared the Force, but we of Clan Bralor had always accepted it, another weapon of many within our ever filled arsenal. But this man before me, the one called Tro'solus, he reminded me much of Rose truth be told, and yet, there was something different about him even compared to her. Even though I was blind in the typical sense, I could still hear and see this as clear as day. "What did he mean by your ship, 'vod?"
  22. Tros simply held out his hand to shake Vrax's, but found himself staring blankly at the man's face who held no such expression. After a long moment passed between the two of them, Vrax broke eye contact and looked at the doorway and allowed for a small smile to come to his face. "You are my al’verde. That means I will follow you, as I am sure that others will as well." He looked down at the floor to consider exactly what Vrax had just told him before looking back up. There was no need for more words. It was understood what was about to happen, so the two then put their buy'ce upon their head and walked back up to the bridge. Things didn't take very long for the word to spread that al’verde was resigning his position. Some had quickly shown their own disdain for the move, but there were some, a select few besides for Vrax who wanted to stay pledged to Tros, and so then also followed suit and resigned their own positions. Tros had given them instructions to meet him in the hangar bay at his personal ship, Swift Justice. Then him and Vrax took a moment to make sure that the security and safety of the Crusaders were set with a solid commander to the rest of the crew to follow. Once everything was settled, Tros and Vrax headed off the bridge towards the hangar bay themselves. It was then that they had come across a Mandalorain who wore very old armor. It made Tros eye the warrior before him and come to a complete stop. He looked him over for a long second-which forced Vrax to speak up rather bluntly. "Tro’solus- you have but a single spot available on your ship. This one seems a little too damaged to fill that seat." "Vrax-never call me Tro’solus again. And if you don't have a memory... I'm more damaged than anyone else that's already on that ship. What's your name?"
  23. Vos's image appeared next to Master Draygos own. He was currently still aboard his own ship, flying in formation. This meeting was too important to miss though, so he made sure he chimed in, after encrypting the transmission to match the others as well to chat in private. "This feels like a stalling tactic. However if they are sincere about trading Raven, perhaps that is our chance to deliver a strike team inside the station? My team could land, retrieve the Empress, and get her out and to safety. Once she is aboard my ship- the ship leaves. That would leave the strike team in the hanger to..." He gestured to convey 'you all know what I mean' "In any event if we attack after we secure Raven, it might demonstrate that we cannot keep our promises. Which could come back to bite us in the future. They wouldn't expect us to break the promise now though, which is nice. Gives us the option to retrieve her."
  24. The Sith combined force of troops and special forces departed Korriban to their rendezvous with their Dark Lord. ((To Space!))
  25. So you yet live child? Darksteel arrowheads slid across a wetstone, guided by the precision of the force as the pair walked together towards the boarding shuttles for the dreadnaught. Another dark arrow slid into the bag that was tied to Telperien’s thin waist. Why do you desire to follow in such troublesome venture? Do you not see that you will end in decay and death? The golden eyes turned amethyst in hue and the corners of her lips trembled into a soft smile. Boot gracefully set foot onto the decking of the Scarab as the servant of the Spider led her apprentice to the bridge. Find that part of you that wishes to do evil and explain it to me. Do not go into this darkness without forethought. You can gain power in other ways than sacrificing yourself to the wiles of the darkside. They were home. They were in the master's service, and they would be used for his will.
  26. Days passed as I laid upon a bed within the medbay, not much to do but stare up at the ceiling with the occasional wander around the room with my sight to hinder the onset of madness as my wounds healed. Most were minor, scratches, cuts, bruises. But the seared flesh of my thigh was what kept me bed ridden and from walking out that door. But in truth, even if I was capable, a part of me enjoyed the moment of solace. It gave me time to quiet my mind, gave me time to think on things that had been happening as of late, of Kad Ha'rangir, of my purpose in his name. And so I did in those moments that I laid awake after each bacta dressing was changed for fresh ones. I was Dar'Manda. I was soulless. I held no place in the afterlife, in Manda. So why did he constantly call to me, invade my thoughts and control me at his every whim? I hadn't thought much about this since i accepted the offer on Tatooine during its invasion and the loss of Rose and Rru. I simply acted without thought, forever forward into his holy crusade as his hands because it gave me hope, it gave me purpose. I am Canderous Bralor, last of my clan, a lineage that dated back millennia. And I was the last due to our belief and ability to wield the Force. After all, any true warrior knew that you were supposed to use every weapon in your arsenal in order to gain victory. So why was my clan wiped out and I labeled Dar'Manda simply based upon such a powerful tool? As i laid there, i occassionally looked over toward the ancient armor that my clan had passed down since the years of the Old Republic, nothing left save for the Beskar Chestplate and Pauldron that bore our emblem, the only pieces left of it, my own blood now staining it. I knew I would repair it with parts I could find, but what would be the point? Rumors had been beginning to circulate of Manda'lore's disappearance and that the Crusade was all but in shambles after this last fight. And for a singular moment, i felt Kad Ha'rangir had forsaken us. "Rise Canderous." I heard the all too familiar voice speak, its otherworldly tone echoing so deeply in my head that I flinched in pain. "I have not forsaken you, only the leaders who led you down an unrighteous path." I gripped the bridge of my nose to quell the pain of my head, removing the covers from my form and sitting up on the bed's edge. "Unrighteous path?" I questioned, my thoughts upon the crusade having brought honor and chaos in his name. How could it be unrighteous? "They grew weak and complacent, fell to the allure of Arasuum, the allure of sloth." It spoke again, I finding myself confused even more by its words. We had won back Coruscant, rid the Galaxy of Kain, and defeated the Jedi here at Chandrilla. We were almost at Mandalore. So how had they fallen to Arasuum? "Have you recieved any orders Canderous? Have my followers left Chandrilla yet? No. For your leaders have none to give." There were truth in his words. Aside from the gathered Forces, no new orders had been issued, no movement in days now, and an ominous mood had beset the men for days now. I had even begun to notice that there were less and less footsteps walking the halls. Even with my blinded sight, fewer and fewer caught my gaze. It was if they were scattering to the wind. But if that was the case, what could... or should I do? That was the question that had been plaguing my mind for days now. "Rise and gather what remains of your armor and weapons." It spoke again as I rose from the bed to do so, almost buckling from the pain of the nearly healed leg as I did. "Go forth and preach the law of my word with your blades. Remind those of Arasuum that even through me, a Dar'Manda can regain his Manda." Never did I suspect that my next mission (@saberforce) would pass by that very door the moment I exited it.
  27. Days had passed since Exodus questioned Neo's loyalty, and yet, here he sat, perched upon the Castle's top as he gazed out across Onderon. Below him were the Forja Sitmyr, as well as Skoll and Hati, patiently awaiting his return as he gathered himself and focused his mind. He knew why Exodus had questioned him, and in part, he understood it. But the blood that boiled within him refused to be questioned. It was as if his mind and body were torn upon its realization. But as his comm sounded and his orders were recieved, Neo simply smiled. Exodus wanted an answer and now was Neo's chance to reveal it. Standing, Neo pulled upon the Force around him like wind to a hawk's feathers and fell forward toward the Forja Sitmyr. And as he landed, the ground seemed to ripple and roll beneath their feet upon his impact, the Sith Master standing upward with a new sense of pride. He smiled. It wouldn't take long for he and his kin to gather aboard the transport that had brought them to Onderon nor for it to reach the Black Scarab. But this journey was different. Neo had something to prove to his brother. He needed to show Exodus why his loyalty should never be questioned again.
  28. -Genesis- I watched Armiena's body language, the sense of despair hidden by her roughly forged exterior, yet it was the eyes that never lie. Even as my gaze shifted toward the mechanics hearing their whispers before turning back to her gaze, I could see the sadness. It was only her words that placed the pieces together for me. "Forgive me Master. I didn't know." I spoke, my words sympathetic, but holding no weight of knowledge or experience behind their sincerity. "I dont know him, but as a son, perhaps the joy of seeing his mother again will erase, or at least ease, any old wounds. I know it would for me." My gaze shifted outward, briefly considering what I would give to be in her son's shoes and knowing I had the chance to see my mother once again, but shook it off as the realization that I would never have such a chance reminded me so. Sitting in silence as she continued on with her instructions, I followed her in suite. There was certainly a method to her madness. -Mjan- Mjan sat in silence, and a bit of relief washed over the Lieutenant as the orders to hold positions came across the wires. He was new to this, and since take off, found his stomach aching with knots and flutters as the anticipation lingered on. He sighed heavily, opening himself to the Force and letting it flow peacefully through his being, feeling its gentle waves roll across his form. This was going to be a long day, whether it grew eventful or not, but he hoped he wouldn't have to pull a single trigger. -Aurora- Aurora would be found in her makeshift cabin when Tobias came looking for her, the weapon she had collected at Felucia fresh in hand as she practiced her form with by memory. She knew not what laid ahead for her, only that the tension in the air was thick, causing her to feel uneasy. This was the only way she knew to calm herself. -Mythos- Mythos snarled as the Jedi communications echoed through-out the Steadfast, the Shistavanen boiling with anger. If he hadn't been so cramped in the small shuttle, he would have likely smashed something. But for now, he kept quiet. He would await Slaughter's orders, but if they were as pacifistic as the Jedi's were starting to become, he'd storm the place himself. In his line of work, negotiations were only for show to get the enemy to let down their guard, and he wasnt about to be caught empty handed by the Black Sun.
  29. Mavanger

    Korriban

    Mordeci followed his new master's instructions, settling down and closing his eyes, trying to meditate. He focused himself, tried to reach out, but something wasn't clicking. He called on the force, and it answered, but how to hide himself was beyond him. it wasn't as intuitive as merely moving things with the force was. Before he could go any further. They were interrupted, however, by a timid man, careful not to tread to heavily, as though the ground were covered in landmines primed to kill. His master's humor was infectious, if dark. He did not guffaw, or chuckle, but he appreciated the humor. He had never been known for his sense of humor though, even on Carida. The man's message, however, was a humorless one. They were going to war, and he was little more than an acolyte with rudimentary training with a blade and the force. Indeed, he felt more at home with a blaster as of now than he did the new weapon that he held in his hand. And yet, he was meant to be better than this. He wasn't a foot soldier in someone else's war, like his brothers were. He would be a foe to be reckoned with. And this was his chance to prove himself, for better or for worse. He followed the Sith Lord closely, keeping his head down. He had heard stories of how the Sith treated their rivals, and he would like to slip under their radars for as long as possible. If his pathetic attempt to fight Valinor was any indication of how'd he fare against a proper Jedi or Sith, he'd have to pick his targets carefully. He would stay by his master's side, to be sure however. He doubted she would save him if he got in trouble regardless of where he was, but he had no intention of picking a fight he couldn't handle. Then again, most people who die in wars never do. He boarded the shuttle behind Lord Valinor, looking out over Korriban as it rose, the legions of Sith soldiers and warriors preparing for the conflict. It was an epic spectacle, one that would strike fear into the hearts of their enemies. Still, there was a question on his mind as they departed the planet. "My Lord, where will the fight be?"
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