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  1. Today
  2. The tidal crash of dark side energies was enormous. What Leena has felt initially was but a trickle compared to when the creature before her struck out. She could practically taste the fear on her tongue. And she felt it, as surely as she stood in the medical bay: fear. The whirlpool of dark side energies lapping for anything they could reach, centered on the regally enshrouded being before her. Yet, he did not do as she expected. This dark lord of the sith did not draw his saber, instead, he had released the power of the vortex; not at her. The riptide of power bypassed her in a moment, and she felt it, mere moments before it occurred. The wave of destruction was not meant for her. Before she could react the sound of the trooper’s death cry reaches her ears and fell silent with a sickening thud. Leena’s anger pressed outward at the cowardly act displayed before her. Yet she still stood, a sentinel before the man. “You shall not pass.” Her mind was still awash in the ocean of the force. Even as the onslaught of dark power muddied the waters, she stood an island amidst the hurricane. She was that island, and the saber in her hand became the lighthouse beam that sought to guide any ship seeking harbor safe passage. Buffered but not broken by the onslaught of power, Leena allowed the force to flow through her; she was but a vessel of its will, built to withstand this storm. Without a thought, guided by instinct and the force alone she stepped forward, her saber arcing in a wide horizontal blur of blue-green at the Neimodian’s forearms. She did not want to kill the man before her. She only sought to sever the flow of darkness; to protect those under her care. The best way to do that, at least in the moment, was to remove the offender’s weapons; his hands. Perhaps, then could his ragged soul still be saved.
  3. Nok ducked as his bodyguards were flung and smashed into the wall, their surprised cries turning to fading whines as they crumpled to the floor. His skin prickled as the familiar sound of a lightsaber igniting cut through the air. I’m betting she knows how to use that, and I’m here with knives and a blaster. I’ll need to throw her off balance. So give her what she expects... He stood up straight, holding his hands out, a rehearsed sneer on his face. “Jedi,” he drawled like a half-price holovid villain, “you cannot hope to match the power of the Dark Side. Let me show you!” He clenched his fists, and thought a familiar phrase. Dead in the cold and dark. The fear was instant. It disgorged from the black pit at the base of his skull and cascaded through his body. He was chilled and excited at once. Focus and terror merged, and the universe shrunk down to a moment. The Force roiled around him, and he saw the medbay clearly, saw the mon calamari standing in a defensive position, saw the last of the wounded limping towards escape, their pain a light all its own. He gathered the Force, focusing for a single, powerful push, and thrust his hands out towards the Jedi. The churning power was the limit of Nok’s ability, only enough to violently move a few hundred pounds. But that would be enough for his purposes. It found its target, but it wasn’t the Jedi. The wounded, limping soldier behind the Jedi was struck with the blast, Nok homing in on his pain. The power of the Force energized by Nok’s fear and will shoved the soldier forward at the wall, with the force to crack a skull open.
  4. When the fosh woman asked about the trials, Kel took a moment to think. Ever since the war broke out, he hadn't thought about anything outside of that. Was he even ready for something like the trials? From what he's read at the Felucian temple archives, the trials were quite rigorous and deadly. Heck, that described his experiences with the war and this mission perfectly. Perhaps he had set foot on the path of the trials long ago. his musings were interrupted when he felt a surge of darkness filled with hunger, desperation, and pain from somewhere outside the temple. His brow raised in shock as he realized that he had felt this darkness before. Something had happened to Frond and yet again he wasn't by his side to help him. The fosh woman handed him a set of medical vials before leaving to what he assumed to be the medical wing. Kel Followed the woman who had now identified herself as Trushaun, to the medical wing. There he saw Master Sandy tending to Frond as he laid in bed. "Frond..." Kel couldn't help but curse himself at his friend's injured state. He noticed the wound which looked as though it were left from a light saber was at a very odd angle. Almost as though it had been self inflicted. But Kel knew that Frond couldn't have been driven to thoughts of suicide so soon after returning to them. So what the kriff happened here? So kel pulled up a chair and sat by Frond's bedside opposite of their master, and asked the obvious question. "What happened?"
  5. For the unsheathed, the winds and sands of Tatooine were a harsh welcome, especially on that of a speeder. But for those who had lived and adapted to such a place from birth, it was as simple as riding through the rain, exhilarant and thrilling, a welcomed enjoyment as the kicked up sand pelleted their forms softly through the fabric of their garments and the wind soared through the intertwined threads and cooled their heated skin. This was one of the reasons Tusker welcomed technology whole heartedly, embracing the bad as much as the good. When they pulled into town, their first and only stop was the Black Sun outpost, her men quickly in tow. "You can't beat the thrill of it though." She replied in jest, reaching around to pat Rru upon the back as she walked around to him and led him toward the innards of the small duplexed outpost, her men returning as they walked inside. Above their heads upon the second floor was her Office, mainly filled with computers and holovid feeds meant to keep her in touch with the other outposts here and abroad, as well as the higher ups. Below them was the storage area, filled mostly with necessities, armaments, and 'acquired' goods like those they received from the farm where she found Rru. and here, upon the main level, was mostly rooms where shifts were taking for sleep, a co-ed refresher, and a small kitchen; basic amenities. "Welcome to my home, the gateway to the skies." With that, she began to access the computer terminals, researching this Rose that Rru was so enthralled by.
  6. Intrigue had bested the young Imperial Marine Corporal, and he could turn his gaze from the Sith Mistress before him. His questions had mostly went unanswered about the reasoning and why behind their invasion of the Prison Transport, and a part of him felt that the answers could lay within this Lady of the Dark, as fearful as he may have been of her after her display of Power. But what had drew his vision the most was the torment and pain that she had inflicted upon herself despite the Power that it drew upon her. Part of him understood it. Long had he relied on the infliction of pain and fear to motivate himself within the Arena of Krayis II. But never had he seen such intensity as the enhancement he saw her unfold upon herself as she withdrew herself. And so, in silence, Shiro followed. Despite the fear that dragged at the young Marine, he couldn't resist himself. She was Sith. Powerful and Dark. The very reason he had enlisted, to make his way through their Ranks and find his place amongst the Echelon, unbridled and free of his slaved and imprisioned past. It was because of this that he let his curiosity gain the upper hand in the battle waging within his mind. Tempted as he was to enlist the aid of their Medic as they passed his men, he waivered the call, knowing her to be Sith and possible of knowing a means to deal with her wounds, and so he continued to tail her. To understand her, it was possible he would in turn, understand himself and the power that laid in rest within him, dormant and stagnant. But that would have to wait, just as he would, as she turned into the refresher. Quickly his mind rushed with the possibility that she had caught wind of his following, a dangerous task in it's own right just as Dunstan had forewarned. But at this point, he did not care in the depth of his mind. Whether confronted or not, the answers needed answering and she was the first he had came across. So as she disappeared into the refresher, Shiro stepped aside and found his perch upon the durasteel halls amidst the shadows, his mind wandering in wonderment. What was it to be Sith? What was it truly like to wield this gift the Sith called 'The Force'? He played her actions aboard the ship through his mind again and again, his skin crawling each time, just as it did that day on Nar Shadaa when he was first captured and brought up for sale. And even then, his mind could not attempt to grasp an understanding at what the Force was and why he was sensitive. Sure, he knew the basics that all knew of the Force, the Jedi, the Sith, and it's tales of mysticism and magic. But even that was lost in translation, only false knowledge as evident in her plight aboard the death trap they had barely escaped. So what was it exactly? His thoughts were interrupted as four other women past, briefly causing his gaze to shift away from the refresher and his thoughts as they passed. Shifting his weight as they approached the refresher, Shiro's glowing crimson eyes illuminating his silver hair into a deep pink hue amidst the shadows of the bulkheads, his gaze focused upon them as the Sith and the new arrival met and conversed briefly before disappearing themselves into the refresher as well. Shiro's hair stood up on ends at the thought of having been caught, and he almost bolted. But something asked for him to stay, and without question, he did so. At least, until Dunstan showed up on crutches, his wounds patched and wrapped, looking a lot better. "You are playing with fire." He whispered, causing Shiro briefly to jump. "We are not welcomed in their world unless asked to lay our lives down for them." Shiro's gazed shifted to Dunstan. "Why is that?"
  7. …You are Wrath incarnate, my little love, but it is a wrath infected by pride. Pride is not an uncommon folly of the Sith, but it is a contamination, nonetheless. It is not that Pride is weakness, but unsubdued it undermines the other Sins into pitiful façade of strength, when all that remains is hubris… ***** As the Sith Lord was wrapped by the older woman’s embrace, Fieldgrey returned it stiffly. Physical affection had not been part of her upbringing, other than the falling of drunken fists. The woman was malodorous with fire and the sweat of exertion. The woman’s accent was peculiar, and her words outlandish. “…to see you, friend” …Friends? Dark Awenydd stared after the woman as she began to inspect herself in the mirror, stepping into the blood that the Sith Lord had left behind from her wound. Is that what Sith are to each other? Friends? The Sith Lord walked after the girl, following her to the refresher’s bloodspattered sink and then to the stool beside it. As one of the Nightsisters took refreshement in the ship’s recycled water, the Sith fumbled with her hands. The rules of strength made them her superior, as long as they outnumbered her. Nightsisters were powerful opponents Power is only a means to an end, It is not an end in itself. The fact of her own disarmament was foremost in her mind. She touched the darkmetal that was embedded in her wrist and flinched. Pain rushed through her nerves, fueling her Wrath. The Sith began to braid her auburn hair into a plait as the woman spoke. She transmitted the power that rushed from the pain into the darkmetal, letting the metal’s substructure bend and twist, for it to wriggle and squirm like a worm in a Hutt’s hand. A flake of the metal twisted its way from her flesh to tether the plait in its form. “If it is blood you pursue, this Krath is at your service.” Darth Awenydd smiled back at the Nightsister, flicking the blood that ran from the freshly closed wound between them in a line on the decking. She stepped over it, letting the symbolism hang in the air unsaid.
  8. Yesterday
  9. As the Nemoidian and his entourage entered the room, Leena felt his presence before she saw him. The man bore the brunt of combat, yet still, he had plowed through the waves of the force and ended up in her medical bay. With her jaw steeled in a sense of purpose, Leena’s mind pushed back against the dark force that had arrived; hoping to drive it back by her sheer power of will in the force. Behind her she could hear as the last of her wards began to be rushed out of sight. She knew they would still need some time to secure the most fragile patients before blasting off into the fray above and trying to make it to safety. Regarding the regal mess before her, Leena reached out with her free hand, drawing forth the ripples that raced across the force and redirected them outward from her hand towards the droids that accompanied the man. They presented the most imminent threat to those she stood for. They needed to be the first to be dealt with. And so from her hand rushed waves of force empowered energies directed at the metallic killers in hopes of blasting them back into the wall hard enough to shatter their circuitry and programming. “No. Master Sith. You may go.” She spoke, her voice sharp, clear, and unwavering in its conviction. In case her words needed any more clarification, she brought her simply decorated silvery hilt forward, clasping it in both hands; and with an all too familiar whoosh, A teal blade materialized into existence. Holding it at waist-level, Leena’s eyes stared at the Neimodian Sith in all his splendor, a stark difference to her simple white Jedi attire. “This is my sanctuary. You will not define it.” ((OOC NOTE: It was agreed upon that the droids would be destroyed right away))
  10. Rruror’rur’rr’s fingers grasped the dash ahead of him. His knuckles were white, not that anyone could tell. Behind his mask, the tusken’s jaw was set as he held his teeth together with grim determination. Truth be told, the near sonic speeds terrified him. That terror was only held in check by a sense of purpose. He was going to find Rose and advance the cause of his people. Perhaps this was why his people had never adopted such machinery, aside from their ability to break down at the most inopportune moments. No. Banthas were definitely a better and more desirable method of travel across the dunes. Rruror’rur’rr pondered silently weighing the case of Banthas as the ideal mode of transport. Anything to keep his mind off the fact that all it would take was a single rock hitting from the ground to turn them into a blazing fireball. Staring straight ahead, Rruror’rur’rr remained silent until they finally arrived at their destination. There, he finally turned to Tu’can’ra and growled in a deep Tusken, “It is any wonder the off worlders don’t kill themselves with such things.” He then quickly dismounted from the craft as he looked around warily, his hand naturally falling to rest atop his slung gaderffi, a visage of desert terror to any who be held him.
  11. This was not how he imagined leaving Chandrilla behind. Everything had gone so dramatically wrong. This was the Jedi's fault as much as it was his and Rose's. Or maybe it was no one's fault at all. But it was easier to find someone to blame. As she stumbled towards him, Durose realized that he was still tightly squeezing his choked out victim with all his might. It was no doubt the shock of everything. He felt like he was frozen in time as the seconds fleeted away. So much for taking a prisoner... Snapping out of it enough to toss the wookiee aside, Ro tried to move to Rose's side but his body didn't respond. “Hey.” There was supposed to be a response but nothing came out. Instead, he gaped at her with eyes as wide as saucers. “You did really well, Durose. And here I got uh…” Durose looked at the horrific wound on her chest. This was his fault. This really was his fault. If he hadn't made her abandon her armor, she might have maybe survived that blast. Or maybe she still wouldn't have. But it was easier to find someone to blame. As the tears rolled down her cheeks, they mixed with the blood that came trickling out of her mouth as she spoke. She was clearly in bad shape. “I… I Kriffed up.” He watched in horror as her petite frame collapsed beside his numb body. He found himself still trapped in a stunned silence. It wasn't until she touched his shoulder that the feeling in his arms and legs returned to him and he snapped out of his mortified trance. It wasn't the first time he or Dhonarr had seen death. But this death was more real to him than most of the others. Especially since these memories and experiences were really his. He had lived such a sheltered life at the Link. But he missed that life more than ever in Rose's final moments. What he had experienced over the last couple months was not living. It was a never ending nightmare. “I set the autopilot to Cathar. I…don't feel so good.” Even as she spoke, she seemed a bit delirious. She might not have even known what she was saying at this point. Was the autopilot set to the planet of Cathar? Or is she calling me "Cathar" and it is "set, too, Cathar"? Did she even know where Cathar was? Did these smugglers have accurate star charts there? Aren't we supposed to be heading to track down the Jedi?! "Shhh..." Ro began as he wrapped his long arms around her and held her tight. "You did fine, Soo'Gah'Wae. But if you wanted a shirt in red, I wouldn't have gladly bought you one from one of the shops. You didn't have to go out and do all this." His voice cracked as he spoke, his weak attempt at humor the only thing he could think of. She deserved to smile before she died. At the very least, he wanted her to see a smiling and reassuring face before she rejoined the great Circle of the Force. It was just that he was having trouble smiling with all the water that kept creeping out from underneath his eyelids. Clearing his throat and wiping his eyes with his free arm, he hugged Rose tight to his body as he rocked her a little. He could feel her body growing cold and her life fading. "I love you, Soo'Gah'Wae. Don't forget me when you join the Circle. I will need your strength and spirit to guide and watch over me so that I can stay strong and defeat me enemies." His voice was a bit shaky but he said that last little bit with conviction. In all honesty, he didn't know if he really "love-loved" Rose. But the truth didn't really matter right now. She always carried so much pain around with her. She deserved to feel loved for once. In reality, Ro was still very much on the fence about what to make of Rose. There were things he definitely didn't like about her. Her impulsiveness in particular was unacceptable to him. And honestly, she was now dead because of it. She had acted like a child and put them both at risk. Maybe if she had thought things through and discussed her plans with him before acting... Kriff, Soo'Gah'Wae! Maybe you wouldn't be here dying in my arms! Or maybe she would have still ended up here sooner or later. Maybe this was all her fault or maybe it wasn't. Or maybe it was the Force or fate. But it was easier to find someone to blame. Seconds stretched on for what seemed like an eternity. He could tell that she was having difficulty breathing, much less speaking. Barring some sort of miracle, it looked like their time together had run out. His mind was pulled back to a song Dhonarr's mother used to sing to him at night when he couldn't fall asleep. It has an rhythmic melody that he had always liked as a child. A 'duh duh duh dum, duh duh duh dum' or 'duh duh dum, duh duh duh dum' generally alternating back and forth. It was the only thing he could think of with such short notice. It wasn't a funeral dirge, but it was a pleasant enough tune to fade off to sleep to. In those final moments, the song kept playing in his head. So instead of keeping it to himself, the former Watcher of the Link softly whispered the melody to his dying Soo'Gah'Wae. His voice echoed softly off the walls as the ship quietly hurled through hyperspace towards its next destination. "Sleep my darling little one. The sun is down and night has come. Close your eyes and fade to sleep. Yes I am here, oh yes my dear, I will keep, you safe and sound. From what dangers might be found. So close your eyes and fall to sleep. Think sweet thoughts and dream of me. The night is here and talk is cheap. Oh what wonders you will see. The sun is down and night has come. So dream sweet dreams, my little one." ___
  12. ((Delta)) ((RTB - return to base)) After several minutes, Delta's comms crackled back to life. "Lima One Command, this is Hellkite Actual. Use of heavy ordinance has been denied. The structure is deemed a priority capture. Seems the bigwigs want it intact for something. But good news, it's no longer your problem. Command wants you to regroup to rally point four-seven-tango and exfil. Spider Actual has taken the field and intel suggests that the resistance guarding your former objective should soon not be a problem." A small video feed from orbital cameras on one of the Star Destroyers was pushed across the comm line, tracking the Dark Lord as he landed at a cavern structure several kilometers across the moonfall fields from Delta's position, with absolute chaos breaking out shortly after. "Command is authorizing RTB for your unit at this time due to casualties, but you're more than welcome to request additional objectives. Hellkite Actual out." The comm was cut, but the video feed was still pushed, allowing Delta to kill it manually if he still wished to watch. According to access records, it was currently being broadcast to several units across the fleet via the secured comm traffic, pushing the war footage as propaganda to encourage the Sith troops. It wasn't often the Dark Lord took to open combat, but when the time came it was often awe-inspiring and ideal material to inspire esprit-de-corps and morale. And that was that. All the bloodshed, all the fighting, for nothing. Rina had thrown her own life and the lives of her squad away over nothing. But, that was how things went. War was ugly. People died needlessly. And yet, the galaxy continued to spin, unmoved. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ((Exodus)) A vile grin crept across Arkab Skon's face as this Sith began doffing his armor. He could have his men open fire, right now, and end this threat. For a long second, the thought hung in his thoughts. In the end, though, it was his own logic that won out on him. His men wouldn't respect him, he would face threats to his leadership from inside, and eventually another would replace him. No, true power was earned, and Skon had won his right to earn it. He quickly began to shed his own vestments, eliciting hushed gasps from those nearest him as he removed his helmet, revealing a sickly pale skin with yellowed eyes and sores forming on his hairline. Few had seen him without his helmet before then, for many Mandalorians it was a grave dishonor, but as Death Watch their dishonor already marked them as dead. What was more dishonor if gaining back all he had lost was on the line? Skon ignored his men's reactions, writing them off as simply shock over willingly accepting that dishonor. "Not here." Skon pointed, over the shoulder of the Sith. "Out there. This is beyond the struggle of two men. This is fate. Fate should have her place in our contest." As soon as he finished, a particularly large chunk of moonfall crashed to the ground nearby, like an enormous mortar round with no explosion, only a large thump. Even the smallest pebble was enough to end either one of them if it struck in the right spot, acting like a bullet that fell from heaven itself. One of his men started to step forward, hoping to talk some sense into the leader of the Glory Bound, but Skon simply took the man's sidearm from its holster and shot him in his gut. Nothing and nobody would stop him from claiming his prize. As Skon walked past the Sith, it was clear in his eyes what kind of sheer madness had taken hold of him, Skon had been infested by the Dark Side, and he would stop at nothing to see this interloper dead. But as he led the Sith outside the perimeter of safety the cavern provided, he dropped low, lashing out in a reverse leg sweep before turning to attack his opponent more aggressively. These Mandalorians had a code of honor, but that code didn't always include fighting fairly. It did include survival at all costs. ((1))
  13. It was overwhelming, the temptation laid at the feet of Aidan. Aidan thought he knew darkness, but nothing quite as powerful a focus as this had ever presented itself, the longing and hunger from the dropped lightsaber whispering sweet nothings in his ear. He wanted it so badly, or did it want him? Either way, he only realized that he had taken several steps closer to the saber only after a Pit droid scooped up the saber, scampering off with it. Momentarily rage flashed across his thoughts, everything he'd ever wanted was just at his fingertips and now it was lost. But were those his thoughts? It took a few seconds, but Aidan eventually managed to shake his head free from the influence the saber had tried to exert. So that was the power Frond had been fighting against...and he'd almost given it to Aidan. It seemed to have a will of its own, attempting to manipulate things to its benefit, and it nearly succeeded. Aidan shuddered at the thought of what would have happened had he actually taken the saber from Frond instead of reject it out of sheer chance and misunderstanding. As they walked back, Sandy remarked how defeated she felt over the ordeal, remarking how she failed Frond. Aidan remained silent, but reached out to her, reinforcing and bolstering her. Aidan wasn't sure if they had failed or narrowly succeeded or what had happened, but it was clear their trials and tribulations on this mission weren't going to be nearly as straightforward as he thought. As Frond spoke to Sandy, Aidan remained silent. He tried to help once, and stuck his foot squarely where it didn't belong. There were others present who could handle things far better than he could, and he was more than fine with letting them handle things. He still felt badly, but that would subside with time. Nothing could erase what had happened, they could only move forward and pick up the pieces. Sandy could use his help with that. She doubted herself, but she also knew far more than Aidan did. And he doubted himself, but he knew that mistakes happened, and what mattered was how he'd recover. All they had to do now was push forward. This was supposed to be a short stop on Ossus, but it had turned into so much more. While Aidan was concerned with finishing their task for the Empress, common sense said the Eternal Vigilance could wait, as if the Jedi hid it well then it would probably be waiting wherever it had been left.
  14. Aegis

    Savareen

    ((My sincere apologies on the lateness of this)) As Tros finished stepping into the armor it began hissing shut around him, encapsulating the Mandalorian. While there was still some residual gunk and smell in the helmet, it quickly began cycling the air, at the least removing the smell. The screens in front of his eyes lit up, offering a full view outside the front of the armor with tactical information overlays. The overlays were all nonfunctional, including a small localized radar, a debug text readout of AI actions and comm traffic, Tros's own heart rate and breathing patterns, as well as other significant area hazards and objects of interest. As the cockroach-like repair bot crawled across the sensor to weld and solder a spot on the external sensors, Aegis noted Tros's heart rate spike, and small speakers activated in the helmet's earpiece with the AI's voice at an appropriate level attempting to calm him. "That is a repair drone, pilot. Do not worry, it is repairing my functions. My primary programming includes a provision to attempt to protect you at all costs, as you are now registered as the new pilot of this unit. We may have time for pleasantries later, but in a few moments we are likely to enter combat. Ready yourself." After a few more seconds and several spot welds later, Aegis's external sensors sprang to life, filling the HUD with a flood of information, but only two things were highlighted, both in red on the radar as well as red clouds of current approximated positioning of the targets through the walls of the ship. "Pilot. Threat detected. Fifty metres and closing." Aegis twitched, attempting to move, at which point Tros noticed several small shocks in his leg muscles, causing them to try to move inside the armor as if he were moving with the armor...but it didn't work. Something wasn't quite synced up, and it was clear the intelligent suit of armor had trouble moving. "I require your assistance. While I am unable to help guide your movements at this time, you should now have full control over the movement of this unit. Bioscans indicate that you are physically a competent being and capable in the realm of combat. Trust in yourself. You can do this." Aegis was unaware of the true potential Tros brought to the realm of combat, but nonetheless the sentence was enhanced by the barrel of the heavy repeating blaster mounted to the armor unit's left arm spinning up menacingly. These next few minutes they would need to trust each other, but the odds of survival Aegis had been calculating continue to rise. ((Feel free to describe the two approaching targets, they can either be from the pirates who were following the ship Aegis was on, or the enemies Tros was dealing with. The suit should handle rather unwieldy at first, overcompensation and undercompensation of movements would be likely until Tros's muscles get used to the bioelectric haptic feedback system. How long that takes is up to you, but I had planned on doing something later that manually improves things.))
  15. The smoke was clearing as Ro felt the lurk of the ship. He found feel the body of the wookiee start to go limp as shots rang out on the ship. He tried to yell out to warn Rose but it was too late. In his struggle to defeat the wookiee he hand left her wide open. He had thought that she would be capable enough to fend for herself while he handled the true wookiee in the room but he had clearly thought wrong. He could feel the ship jump to hyperspace as he watched the life slowly slipping from Rose's eyes... ((TO SPACE)) ___
  16. It had been quite some time since Skye had brought Jackson to Corellia and since the destruction of Coruscant. It had knocked both Master and Padawan for a six and it seemed like they had just been treading water and Skye was only just coming out from the fog it had left them in. Her Padawan had gone off on a personal discovery mission and only the Force knew when he would return. The sound of the forest first thing in the morning was calming, though the air was already warming up towards a hot summers day. Skye paused for a moment to wipe her brow before she took off running once more, following the track through the forest and around part of the teardrop lake. She stopped just before the Organa boundary line and took to the water, feeling the cooling water envelope her as she dove beneath the crystal clear surface. She remained underwater several meters before coming up for air and swimming back across the lake to where I-Nine waited on the jetty. The silver and green protocol droid handed her a towel as she emerged from the water. "Master Skye, you have messages from Morgana and Krishna." The Jedi Master smiled at this piece of news, "Thank you I-Nine, I'll listen to them now." Skye was always happy to hear from her children and would reply to them both and send one to Amon while she was at it. After she had done this, the Healer readied herself to go to the local hospital for her shift.
  17. Tusker chuckled as he spoke, pulling him up on the first step with her hand before leading him out. When he gaze fell upon the sun lit sands, she smiled beneath her garments, realizing that for the first time since her orphanage, she was among at least one of her people, even if he was of another tribe. No matter though, for she would see him and her forge their own tribe of outcasts and heretics if he would choose to walk such a path with her. Shifting her gaze, despite the reality of his own plight could have been and was at one time her own, chuckled at his hesitation. The transition for her had been an easier one, a Tusken child hidden among farmers and miners behind masks that were a commonality for Tatooine, few memories of her life before and vague. But for him, his own life having been a polar opposite,and now being thrust into a whole new truth. She chuckled not because she found it funny or ironic, but because of the road ahead for him likely laid with pain and sorrow, and it was moments like this were the subtle joy of humor would last through the darkened ones. Climbing aboard the speeder, Tu'can'ra turned to him as he spoke, the others slightly fearful as they loaded their own with what valuables they could muster, the poor sods that fell victim to Rru no longer having need for them, including some of the droids he had taken out. That, and it would be a shame to let the Jawas have it all. "You will find that we differ very little from one another, all of us simply trying to survive." She spoke with a hidden smile as she pulled back on the throttle fully, taking Rru on one hell of a ride, passing farms and mines that laid outside the small outpost they were heading to. "These were the ones who raised me, so I know them well. Hopefully you will come to know them as I have, if only you look past the differences of days past." With a chuckle, she shifted gears and hit near sonic speeds as her gaze fell upon him, hoping she wasn't scaring him half to death. After all, Technology did have its advantages, and sometimes, it was even fun.
  18. This was a foul play. She had certainly gotten herself and her friends killed again. Again? She knew it had happened before, the agent had said so. He had been so cruel then, so rough to her upon waking in that horrid chamber. She ha- She shook her head to clear away the rotten memories that had likely been caused by a dump of adrenaline and pain from the leg wound. She risked a glance at the torn, corbon scored, and bleeding wound and rolled her eyes. Another curse at herself and at the sound of the blasterfite from aft. She pushed herself up, engaged the autopilot with a turn of a key that had already been inserted by the dead captain and as the ion engines fired them to pull them out of the gravity well as she scooted herself to the edge of the cockpit door. She quickly examined the blaster for a moment before forcing herself through the pain she charged at a hobble down the corridor out of the cockpit, looking for Durose, cradling the blaster in stiff hands made even stiffer from the wound which tore at her with every move. She could see Durose, perhaps finishing off the hulk of a wookiee and she was about to call out that she could help when another voice pierced the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. Utini! The sound of the ratlike warcry turned her head just as everything went a brilliant white. The Jawa discharged his weapon twice. The first shot taking her in the side and the second one spanning into the ceiling as the recoil had knocked him off balance. She cursed as the firey pain ripped through her and she went down hard. Without even thinking or willing it to happen, the blaster in her hand returned a swath of fire. Unaimed mostly and she walked the stream of red bolts into the tottering form of the Jawa until the magazine howled its emptiness with a vibration and the gun lay smoking on her lap. Gods that hurt. But did it? She spared a look and cursed again, her pain turning to panic. The space below her meagre breasts were coated in black burning skin, and seeping brown, boiled blood. Kriff. She let the blaster fall to the floor and pulled herself up by the side of the wall. Strangely she didn't much notice the pain from the wound in her knee, other than how uncomfortable it made walking. Her brain interpreted it with her military training and gave her a very bad prognosis, but it would take a bit of time she knew for her body to recognize the reality. So she instead made her way to Durose. She hugged him, looking at the passed out wookiee under his hands. “Hey.” Her voice was soft, and a trail of brown blood guttered between her teeth. “You did really well Durose. And here I got uh…” She looked down again and chuckled, blood running freely now from her mouth down her chin. Her voice broke emotionally as tears began to gush down her face. “I…” She shook her head and kind of collapsed beside him and his kill. “I Kriffed up.” She really had, she had taken him from those he loved, given him companionship, and now she was going to leave him. She didn't want to leave him. Not like this. Not again Her hand grasped at the fur on his shoulder. Feeling its softness. So very soft. “I set the autopilot to Cathar. I…don't feel so good.” Her hand trembled as she set her head against his shoulder, wishing that she could apologize for making such a mess on him. But it hurt so much to talk.
  19. The presence of the Sith Lord without her consort of a Hutt in whom resided the power to devour worlds gave Telperiën enough pause that she did look behind the girl to check if the noxious bulk was hiding among the refresher stalls. Seeing no trail of white worms, or legion of slime borne parasites wriggling in the distance behind her, Telperiën gladly took her arm in the traditional greeting. The Sith’s muscles were not as developed as her own, having not drawn upon a long bow for the past years, but she still carried with her a strength of grace, strangely unspoilt for one that had been a consort of a Hutt. Perhaps his hunger had not extended to all things. But the girl's greeting was filled with a barb that seeped with Pride. A not unwelcome trait in a Sith lord, but it took Telperiën aback and caused her amethyst coloured eyes to narrow for a moment as she tried to find the jest in the words. It was true enough that Hailey was younger now, at least in frame and curve of breast, muscle, and raw power. But maybe that statement was more of a question into itself instead of a barb of to hook into a sensitive chink in Telperiën’s psychic armour. When she had deduced this she let her mouth grow into a wide smile and she barked a laugh that caused a tittering in the women behind her. “Why yes!” She stepped back as if to show off her body. “I was cursed foully, to wander the mortal plane jumping from flesh to flesh like a parasite. Seeking forever what I cannot achieve.” She laughed again and stepped fully forward to embrace Hailey, trying to make the best of an awkward moment. She was well enough aware that she was young and inexperienced, even if she had supped deeply on the memories of her victims, like some vampyre of legends long past. “But it is good to see you friend, you are full grown into your splendour, a full rite Krath, how marvelous! Do you mind if I but for a moment clean up?” She indicated her dust covered features with a wave of her hand. She stepped past the Sith Lord and walked to the sink and mirror where she analysed her face after a thorough scrubbing with soap and a towel. She looked in the corners of her eyes, her gums, under her tongue. Carefully watching for any sign of the Decay. Finding none, she perched herself on the stool next to the refresher as Lilia also washed her face. “I am searching for companions outside my order, as you know we carry with us a weakness in our blood.” She looked back at Aweydd, her eyes searching for hers. “For a mission of sorts. Are you free for an adventure?”
  20. …Do you plan on raging and screaming your way to power? Are you some Sith Warrior? Some tot wracked ravaged by a conniption? We are Krath. Our power is manifested in the Sins, for which there are seven. For you it is Wrath, that terrible demon through which you find your power… ***** Naturalistic and arcane was the power that seemed to beckon to the teenaged Sith as the door to the refresher slid open. It was a taste that lingered on her tongue, an undomesticated, agrestal essence that drove to the very core of her being. In that moment she was transported back to the raw days of innocent youth, when the mysteries of the force had been as uncultivated and wild as Kyrie’s palsied songs. Her eyes sulpheric eyes fluttered closed as the feeling washed over her. …Your songs were lovely… But Hayley could not feel them now. No more was her mind entranced by innocence, all it could see was the destruction of that purity by chaos. A cringe passed over her features as she opened her eyes. She blinked. Before her stood a group of four leather-clad women. They were armed in a primitive manner but stank of death. Ash and blood. The requiem of a dying world. Fieldgrey drew in a steady breath, tasting the air for the scents that lingered beneath that of the sanguine. Lust. Daughter of Qaela. She carried still her master's distaste of the promiscuous nightsister. The woman's chaotic nature had been a stain upon the Sith. Another breath. Greed. Daughter of Ar-Pharazon. The Sith Lord smiled warmly, ardently grasping the forearm of the woman before her. “Mistress Ar-Pharazon, when last I saw you, you were but a child. Now you look upon me as the elder.” She bowed her head to the woman and her companions “How the galaxy does turn.”
  21. A tall neimoidian robed all in red stood in the doorway, flanked by a battle droid on each side. A silky, crimson blindfold embroidered with gold patterning glittered on his head, but it could not cover up the scarred, puckered flesh that spread from the ruin of his eyes. The elegant black cloth headdress might have completed the opulent display, had half of it not been sheared off. Scorched threads stuck out in an unraveling tangle where the blaster bolt must have passed through. The brown and black stains at the hem of his robe looked and smelled of blood, feces, and the other fluids of the dead and dying. Disheveled as he was, the neimoidian carried himself gracefully, arrogantly surveying the med bay with sightless eyes. Nok grimaced as he took in the medbay. It appeared as a dim collection of shadows, outlined by the fading light of the retreating wounded soldiers, their pain and fear rippling outward and washing over the room. Of course the medbay was nearly empty. This day had been one wrong thing after another. Nok wasn’t even supposed to be on the battlefield, and yet here he was, the victim of a Sith Lord’s twisted joke. Send the neimoidian in, it’ll be fun to watch him dance before he dies. Nok had survived, thankful for the thousandth time for his training, but his slaves had all been cut down in the crossfire. Without their constant source of fear and shock-collar induced pain, Nok was nearly blind. The tumult of dark emotions washing over the battlefield provided some illumination, but the sources were too far away to provide the clear vision Nok needed if he was going to survive. To top it off, most of his droid bodyguards had been destroyed, leaving him with only two. And so he’d come here, following the suffering soldiers like a carrion scavenger, hoping for replacements to his slaves in the form of the wounded or terrified medical staff. Instead, the last of the wounded were leaving, and as for the doctors… No, not a doctor. She stood before him, but from her he felt...nothing. Peace. She held something in her hand. A hilt. A Jedi He pointed at her with a finger adorned with a nova crystal ring. “Go, I won’t stop you.” I’ll wait for the next one.
  22. Last week
  23. The smell was exquisite. The force moved heavily behind the door, and the trail of fear that had led them here was just beginning to ebb. Soldiers that normally would stare death in the face, had parted and pointed like schoolmarms hoping that whatever this group was, they would take the Daemon away. Their fear was intoxicating, and Telperiën, or Darth Annwn as the Sith now called her, drank deeply from their cup of sorrow. She placed her hand upon the door and the door opened with a groan. To the young girl behind the door, Darth Annwn would look very normal, if oddly dressed and oddly armed. Her beautiful face was covered in a smear of blood that formed into a runic curse, and her leathered armour also carried the stench of blood and ash. Beside the Heir to Ar-Pharazon there stood in company three others in dark leathers. All with lightsabres on their hips, but antique weapons beside. Thenra, her dark hair lank over her shoulders scratched at the wound that crossed her almost perfect face. A long trail of blood had marked the wound and had traced down her long neck to disappear in a smear between her meagre breasts. She wore a manifold of knives in sheaths that traversed from her thin hips to the end of her thighs. Beside the knives were also spikes of sharpened durasteel, in clusters oh the reverse of her shoulders. The sharp edges peeking from above her thin leather covered shoulders. Kaiseng, olive skinned, her normally curled hair held in plaits that stretched down to her belt. She wore a short sword at her hip beside the ornate sabre. She was the most armoured, and that did well to hide her dark complexion in the company of so many light skinned ladies. She had ascended from the ranks of the slave class, and her back, if exposed, still carried the scars of wips. Her smile was a sneer, and her beautiful full lips betrayed a heart as black as sin. Lilia, by far the youngest, copied her mistress, holding a recurve bow, whose white feathered arrows hung from a bag at her hip, the fingers of her left hand caressing the well worn bone carved notches. Her red hair was tied back betheat a cap of black leather, that matched the armour her sisters wore. Her freckles covered by the white ash of Coruscant's burning. Telperien grinned widely. For it was a face that she recognized. Hailey Fieldgrey, the once servant to the Master Sheog the Great Devourer, who had been such a friend to Delta her adoptive father. It was a face out of time and place for Telperien, bringing her back years of feelings and thoughts in a flash. She reached out her hand in greeting. “Darth Awenydd I presume?”
  24. At the requests of the sparring partners here is my presumptive ruling In the future i may be better to refrain from a tonne of character development and conversation in a duel as this makes finding the relevant attacks and defenses hard to judge. Or alternatively highlight the attacks. Overall it was a great spar with very much no direct clear winner since there was no attempt to have one by either opponent. Instead both Ban and Kari chose to conduct offensive actions and defenses in a very limited manner. In a narrow victory, Ban pulls off the win. A united and singular objective, as well as having an effect on his opponent at the end pulls off the narrow victory. Both wrote extremely well and since there are no deaths at the end of this fight I can only say good luck and I look forward to reading where this ends up.
  25. The Sith do not live for chaos. True it fuels that which gives us power, but we should not be consumed by it. To let chaos rule us is to give up all order and to fall to Anarchy. What good then is ambition if all it leads is to a chaotic end? ***** The Sith Lord stumbled from the ship, her hands leaving crimson stains on the bulkheads where she used them to hold herself up. The blood was pungent with spice and caused the durasteel to warp and curl. She mouthed her thanks to the two soldiers, engraving their names into her mind as she stole from the freighter, finding solace in the shadows of a maintenance hallway. The subjugation of Coruscant was supposed to bring order to the chaos of a dying world, but all she was left with was doubt. It had left her without conviction. Why had the Dark Lord called them, only to abandon them to an exploding dreadnaught? The Sith Lord sunk into her torn cloaks, feeling the material grind against her skin. It stank of the deadly cytotoxin the Trandoshans had tried to kill them with. Not a single life saved. No slaves to rescue. Just death. Wasn’t the Dark Lord an all-knowing spider, spinning his webs from the shadows? As the misquiet overshadowed her heart, Wrath moved. It was not the swift violence of the warrior classes, but a harder and dispassionate thing. It was a settled and deliberate anger. Only the darkness would know her thoughts. She would find the strength the save the innocents from chaos. Only wrath gave her that which she needed. She slowly rose, feeling the fabric of her cloaks clinging to her sweatstained skin. Stalking through the halls of the starship, avoiding the frightened gaze of Sith troopers and navy corpsmen she made her way to a refresher. With the door bolted, The Krath stripped the damaged cloaks from her pale flesh. When she was fully naked, the girl analyzed the damage to her body. The wound on her wrist was deep, but not crippling. It dribbled a constant stream of blood onto the polished white flooring. As her eyes took in the damage, pain flared into her mind. It gave her mental clarity, but physically it crippled her. With a trembling hand Fieldgrey fumbled through the refresher’s medkit until she found a kolto-spray. She uncapped it with her teeth and promptly dropped it into the crimson puddle at her feet. …Spast. The Sith stooped, snatching it wearily from the ground and discharged it into the wound. As the kolto burned into her ragged flesh, The Sith Lord concentrated on the wound, bleeding off her own pain, letting the feeling enhance her ire before releasing it back onto the wound in alchemical magic. She placed a small strip of darkmetal into the wound, digging it into the blood and viscera. Around it she knit the flesh together, forcing the wound to close around the metal in a twisting scar. She bound it with the force, compelling the blood and skin to bend to her will. With the wound treated, the Sith let the sonic-shower do its work, scrubbing the battle from her body. Grime and toxins gone, The Sith re-dressed in a simple black tunic, bound by a leather belt. The Trandoshan’s artifacts she had recovered she placed in a pouch. She would need to make a soul-reaper and a lightsaber soon, or she risked not achieving her full potential as a Krath. She paused before opening the door back into the starship’s corridors. There was another Sith presence outside.
  26. Leena pushed her sleeves up as she came back from carrying another gurney through the medical bay towards the docked Sprint medical craft. The usual white of the room was bathed in the rotating glare of red lights and blaring klaxons. The armies of the Sith had appeared out of nowhere and their troops had descended upon the rebel base in a fury. Even as the forces of good rushed to mount their defense, Leena and a few other medics and droids had been left trying to evacuate the injured; even as more came in. It broke the girl’s heart as she tagged the toe of another injured trooper rushed in with black. He was too injured and they did not have time to save him. Had he been alone and there had been time, Leena knew she could save him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, gingerly stepping forward and running her hand across the man’s eyelids with her hand, closing his eyes, “Go with the force, knowing you served the light. Paradise awaits.” Normally, Leena would sit and meditate in the life of every patient she lost. It had been a rare event to be treating so many patients at one time as more came through the door. In fact, she could think of only twice where it had been this chaotic in a medbay she was assigned to, one of those was a multi vehicle crash and the other when fire had swept through an aged city burning the wooded structures like twigs. Both had trapped numerous dead and dying. Each of those times, however, she had served under the watchful eyes of her Jedi masters in the Healer’s Circle. This time was different. She alone was the wielded if the force in this room. The more senior Jedi having rushed off to tend to the defenses. Never before had her station been under attack. Even so, as the Mon Cal rushed across the room to help a single 2-1B hoist another gurney, she reached out with the force. This was her medbay, and the forces of darkness were not here to take it from her. “Well, at least they aren’t here yet,” She mumbled to herself as she handed the gurney off to an another medic and hurried back into the room, waving another gurney on towards the awaiting evacuation craft. “Get him aboard! The force says he will live to fight another day.” She could feel the trooper’s presence in the force. While his injuries were grave, his will to live was more determined. It was not his time to die. The force willed it. Closing her eyes for a moment, Leena inhaled and exhaled, balancing her mind in the soothing flow of the light side of the force. The entire room was bathed in the warmth of the flowing light side of the force; even amongst the chaos, Leena was a beacon of peace. This was her domain and she took responsibility for everyone in it. That meant tending to their injuries, both bodily and mentally. Her medbay was to be a place of peace and life. Opening her eyes, she felt it. Leena has been expecting it; but deep down she had hoped it would not come to this. A dark presence was approaching the chaotic bay. It was a dark presence that she pushed at with her mind, but could not drive off. “That’s no dark thought,” she exclaimed, as she whirled about, her voice rising to a shout as the force carried her faster. “Hurry! The Sith approach! You there, double time. Grab your buddy and drag him aboard. I don’t care if your arm hurts! Move!” Even as an apprentice she was in command. The Jedi did not know what approached, but she knew she had to protect they that had come to her for help. Her legs were a blur as she turned and with the push of a hand, sent a gurney skittering towards the Sprint, carried by a wave of the force. Meanwhile, she strode to the center of the room, facing the swinging double doors to the bay. One eye focused on the doors, awaiting whatever might enter, the other continuing to dart about watching the hubbub of the room. Stretching out with her right hand towards a nicely folded pile of sheets and blankets in the corner, Leena interrupted the stream that was the force, calling the shimmering silver hilt of her lightsaber into her open hand. At that moment, the doors opened and she stood there, her unlit saber held defensively in one hand the light of the force swirling in jetties around her, the odor of salt and the sea rising up amongst the smells of blaster bolts, burnt flesh, and antiseptic. Leena was adorned in blood spattered white robes. She knew she was the final wall between whatever came through the door and her wards. If she needed to die here to ensure that as many got away as possible; well then, “so be it.”
  27. Frond’s body lay there twitching, having reverted to his humanoid form as the blade of his weapon cleaves him open; an innate response to trying to lessen the damage, when in fact, it made it work. By the blessing of the force, Sandy was there to try and stem the flow of life-giving sap that courses through the woody interior of the Neti’s body. Even as he lay there, his mind wracked with the onslaught of darkness stemming from the dark side oriented device and the crevices of his own psyche, Frond felt the gathering presence of Jedi around him; even if he could not tell who they all were. As the light grew and the darkness faded, Frond’s mind finally drifted off into what others might call sleep; his body devastated and his mind exhausted. He knew nothing of being picked up from his fallen place amongst the wilds and carted to the medical bay. He didn’t know anything. His mind, however, bolstered by the powerful company about him, was finally able to rest. ...or so it should have been; but there, amongst the calm, the darkness pushed back, a voice range out to Frond’s very essence, a voice he recognized. It was the voice of his master, Sandy Sarna. With a flicker of his eyelids, the Neti looked up, bleary eyed and withered, not entirely sure of where he was. All, he knew was that for the first time, he felt at peace. The darkness still nestled in his core, but held at bay by the strength of good. And as he sighed a relief, Frond felt it, his saber was still there. Not within the cavity carved into his own body; but nearby, nearly smothered by the forces of light. Still Frond could sense it’s hunger waiting and biding its time. with a rustle of leaves, Frond reaches a tendrilled hand out grabbing the arm of whoever happened to be closest and whispering ”Sunlight drives back night Bathed in light, body withers Nightfall approaches”
  28. Trushaun straightened as if a bucket of cold water was poured over her body. Eyes flashing with a resemblance of 'What in krif just happened??' Something had just happened on the grounds just outside the temple, in one of her favorite groves. With being in touch with the vegetation around the area she was naturally attuned to disturbances. There was a sense of urgency and a calling to her. She couldn't occupy herself with the Kel'Dor now, she rummaged in her satchel and produced three vials of liquid. Two clear, one purple. She closed the gap between her and the alien @karyu128 and pressed them into his palm. The clear ones were for healing, the purple was for pain- if he needed them. "Useeee well, Forsssse be you." She stammered out, impatient of sounding out the words correctly. Spinning, she started to make her way to the medical wing. Her home away from the plants and nature she fit in so well with. Her commlink chirped just as she exited the room. "Trushaun." She identified herself in a way of greeting to whomever was calling her. "Feel it, yessss. On w-way." turning the corner and heading out of earshot. As she left there was no noise of her feet hitting the floor, or even a rustle of her robes as she sped away. Something that spoke to her dexterity. As she reached out to the Force towards the medical wing, she felt a piece of nature being moved into the wing. Curiosity will be sated here soon...
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