Sith X

The initial knee jerk reaction that Oni presented in this case was one that was left wanting, the Sith Master vaguely reacting at all as the blade cut against decayed flesh and bone. Coagulated blood barely oozed from muscle and tissue as the Sith Master reached a cold hand up to inspect the wound. "Ori'buyce, kih'kovid." He voiced as his fingers prodded the opened wound. His gaze shifted briefly to Nyrys in disgust, before shifting back to Delta and this Mandalorian Tros Ardell. His care was beginning to wane amongst these youthful gatherers. Oni had came here at the behest of the Dark Lady and her rise, slivering from his darkened hole to present his respect and fealty. But now three times he had been disrespected despite the rank of Master and his adjudication. Three times he had let slide for the sake of unity under her banner. Three times that his patience had been tested openly in her Court. Did his value mean nothing to her? For even, Exodus the Spider, had held a semblance of respect for the rank and value of those who were in service. If she couldn't do the same, her reign would be short. His gaze shifted from the gathering of Warriors toward Darth Inmortos who had remained silent during these past few moments, one also disregarded despite the potential he held to aid in her services. Placing his helm back onto his head, he simply shook it. It seemed those who held their powers were unwelcomed in the Court of Nyrys. "Come. Let us finish our discussions elsewhere. He spoke with disappointment as he turned to shuffle off away from the air of gathered warriors flocking. It seemed their expertise was unwarranted. He would find a corner off to the side, and embrace it's silent shadows, just as he always had. "Ori'buyce, kih'kovid" = All helmet, no head

There were many assumptions being made this day about Oni as he stood upon the precipice of this new Era, a new Era not only for the Sith Empire under the herald of Darth Nyrys, but a new Era for the seclusive Darth Oni who had for far too long stood amongst the shadows. He knew that he would have to earn his mark amongst these members of the younger generation, but he was beginning to see and notice the disdain for he and his kind. Even as the Mandalorian, Tros Ardell of House Solus, stood amongst the masses and demanding the rank and file of everyone there, he could taste the vile toward him. And yet, he smiled. "Ni cuy' te demon be Nar Shadaa, te adiik be te Chaos God Nurgle, bal birthed be Clan Krell be Nal Hutta, Neo Krell, Third be ner gai." Oni spoke openly with his Concord accent as he removed the open helm to reveal the decaying flesh of his vassel. "Ni cuy' a Hunter be Souls, bending the Spirits be ner Aru'e at Beskar'gam be Agol bal Taakur bid ibac val may isirir ner A'den bal kar'taylir ner Gra'tua." With a prideful gaze, he finished. "I am Darth Oni, Sith Master."

Feeling the hold that Lady Nyrys had placed down upon their forms loosen with the ending of her words, Oni felt the world beneath him loosen it's grip upon his feet and he rose above it once again like a leaf being lifted by the subtle gale. Her words, wrought with anger and disdain, had been heard loud and clear by all, himself included. For this Empire of her's, like those before, was his duty to oversee and watch as a Chronicler, as a Guardian, as a Testament. But such things were never without unwarranted confusion and boasted brashness of the youthful. And before Lord Mavanger made his approach, his bile and hatred for Oni and his truth filled words permeated across the stone floor. Despite the smile he graced the newly appointed Master before him with, and despite the uncontested lecture he received without interruption, Mavanger had failed to understand his truths. To Oni, he was but a child. A child to be scolded, not pampered. For Oni had lived through numerous Empires, numerous Dark Lords and Ladies. He was living proof of such truths. For the Sith, even one as Oni, immortality was a jest, attainable but fruitless. He may have shed his mortal bindings, but the one thing he could never escape was experience and the wisdom gained from it. And only if the corruption of their darker nature was kept at bay. Many of his brethren from the eras before were no more than ravaged beasts by now, lost in the madness of power and hunger. What separated he from them was his experience as a beast and his loss of lust. That was the curse of power, to one day be consumed by it. And even Mavanger, Nyrys, Inmortos, Akheron... All would succumb to it eventually. It was inevitable. Only tempering one's self could withstand it. That was the nature of the beast. As Mavanger departed, Oni was not without manners. He stooped his head in reverence as he watched the Sith Master turn his backside to him and walk away. And for a brief moment, the Oni that once existed imagined a quick blade through the ribs and into the heart with a simple stroke of ire. But those days, the days of the Assassin trained under Dominus and forged for the Alcazarins, were days long past. Rage, Lust, Envy, they were but constructs to one's demise at their own devices. Dominus, Haphaestus, Black, Cyrus... They were just examples. Blackened Examples forged from infighting and products of Gluttony. As would these Sith, in turn, become. Himself included. But there was subtle truths in Mavanger's words. And as Oni shifted his soulless eyes across the room, he realized his absence in the years past, he had ran far too long from his fate. All he knew had came to pass, and everything he was had perished in dust. From his duel with Exodus as an Apprentice to his loss to the Jedi Kyrie and now the bearer of DarkMetal, Mandalore. He had been gone for far too long. His search for immortality had bore fruit, but when he returned to the Court of Exodus, he found a Spider trapped in its own web. But now with the rise of Nyrys, there was potential. Where once stood a demon, now only a wraith bore it's brittle fangs against the youthful. He had fallen more than he cared to mention. His gaze shifted toward @Krath Inmortos and the Mandalorian @saberforcehe conversed with. He knew it was time to remind both the Galaxy and the Sith he knew as brethren why he carried the name Darth Oni, even if his fate became sealed. Shifting across the untouched stone, he made his gliding approach toward the two, catching the near end of their conversation as the Mandalorian stepped to depart. "What my burc'ya means to jorhaar'ir, is that we wish to be the ciryc buurenaar of your gaan." Oni spoke in a near perfect combination of Basic and Concordia dialect. "Mando'ad draar digu, ner vod" Burc'ya = "Friend" Jorhaar'ir = "Speak/Talk" Ciryc Buurenaar = "Cold Storm" Gaan = "Hand" Mando'ad draar digu, ner vod = "Mandalorians never forget, my brother"

When the Dark Lady spoke, it verged on a lingering lisp that echoed her disdain and malice of the transpired, the transgressions of all flowing along the flow of her will as all took a knee whether by choice or her will alone. Her Wrath was absolute in its transparity and her Vengeance resounded in it's core. And Oni stood as no exception to this rule of her Law, his form more limber than most as her words came across with wickedness. It was a surprise for Oni, to be honest, that her displeasure had fell upon him as his attempt to Advise Lady Awenyyd and Lord Mavanger was for her just. But Oni also knew he had long been an outsider to those of the Order, and would likely remain one always. Such was the path that had birthed its self from that which he had always chosen to walk. So despite the surprise, it wasn't a complete shock to his senses. Still, his loyalty would go without question. For his was to her, as life was to death. And if that was her wish, she had but to ask. His gaze fixated briefly to Lord Mavanger as Lady Nyrys singled him out, massive pleasure for both her Court and his ego as well, but not without warrant. In the course of Sith Politics, his name had been a topic of eagerness lately, one of expectation and reliance. There was little to no doubt behind her choice to name him a Master and raise his stature. Even in his brethren's Court, he had been a worthy Warrior whether Exodus had openly acknowledged it or not. Oni only questioned whether his idle hands would be counterproductive in Nyrys' Empire once they shifted back into the Shadows, or if, like those of Kakuto Ryu and Haphaestus, he would bring a calming storm. Only time would tell. And as she spoke to the Mandalorian, a being he held no previous knowledge of, he simply gazed at with inquiry and interest. In fact, she had yet to mention his name and his only appearence before Oni had been this day. His contacts into the Intelligence Department hadn't said a word about Mandalorians being a part of those holding prestige in her and her previous Successor's Court. Only the Clone who separated himself from the criminal underworld and her new Consort, The Blooded Prince. Still, it mattered little. Oni knew their prowess only too well, even if it was a lifetime ago. It was only a natural welcome to be sure.

Oni's withered hand graced his chin beneath the metal helm that adorned his skull, the flowing garments of the Mandalorian Prelest waving in the darkened breeze that swept through broken panes and riddled glass. His necrotic face frowned as he spoke. "I see. So my Intel was slightly off. No matter. Let his ruin be his prison. Those of us who have walked the abyss and conquered death have little bearings to such trivial matters." Oni's gaze briefly shifted past Krath Inmortos toward the gathering of others over harmless words, briefly catching his attention as his necrotic brethren made his proposal. He nodded, offering Inmortos the lead as they shifted aside toward the alcove, the Sith Master briefly holding up a finger as they passed the gathering in their departure. This moment had grown into a subtle farce and one that Oni cared little to spectate. Revealing his arm from beneath the blackened veil, he offered the Sith Apprentice @Solusa hand up from his knees with little worry if the unhinged Tuk'ata bit him or not as his gaze turned to @Karys Narat iv-Adas. "I believe this is the first time I have seen your true face, Lord of Wrath." Oni conversed as he dusted the Apprentice. "I am gladdened to see you. The Massassi in charge of the Tuk'ata were very inviting the last time I visited Korriban". WIth that said, he turned his gaze to the struck sabers of the Warrior @Mavanger and the sinister smile of the Sorceress @Fieldgrey, stern and unapologetic. "This Apprentice holds the right to voice his questions and beliefs, just as you do. And if the Dark Lady or his Master feels so, receive the repercussions of such words. Neither of you have the bearings to say otherwise. I know little of you outside of your conquest Lord Mavanger. And Lady Awenyyd, I only know your Master and his Court by reputation. And yet, in your own ignorance, both of you have forgotten your places. Lady Nyrys has outlined our objectives and that should be our only focus at hand. You have only aided to the mockery of yourselves in her court. Dissent is one thing, but questioning upon one's belief is expected, especially in the Apprentices. All you have done is invited civil war into her reign by your reactions and threats." Oni's gaze shifted from both to the warrior first as he sighed in disdain. There were more important matters to attend to. "Lord Mavanger, when you are done with the pounding of your chest, please gather the Mandalorian and meet myself and Krath Inmortos in the alcove. We have much to discuss and prepare in the coming days." Shifting his gaze to the Sorceress, Lady Awenyyd, Oni spoke to her as well. "As an Emissary for Lord Sheog, you may join us as well. Lady Nyrys has tasked us with creating a army of the Undead, and any expertise he may have bestowed upon you will be a valuable and welcomed addition." With that, Oni turned a brief moment toward Lady Nyrys as well as her Consort, who were likely watching over the disturbance as he presented his bow and departure before turning back to Krath Inmortos. Without a misstep in their conversation, he replied. "Indeed. What do you have in mind?"

Oni, in his foreboding silence, sat and watched as his resolve and wisdom was largely overlooked. But that mattered little. Time would tell the testament of Lady Nyrys' rise and fall just as it had with those before her. The only question that remained, would be how long it would last. Would it last millennia? Or just a few short years? He was intrigued on how her plan and the details would inevitably fall into place. As the one that stepped out returned with the Lord Mavanger in tow, Oni's gaze turned briefly to him, his power delving into the undead a mimicry of his own, but the potential was strong. A grin encrusted his face as he stepped back into place amongst the younger generation as Lady Nyrys stood before the audience and proclaimed the first of her many intents. Shifting his gaze to her, he listened attentively. And as he did, her formulation began to unravel across the holovid. Her idea was majestic, he would have to admit. To focus the target upon the stronger aspect of the Rebellion was bold. But to use the Mandalorians under this Tros as raiders under the guide of Lord Mavanger, whom had already become the face of the recent invasion was calculative. If it succeeded, there was no hindrance on the head of her Empire and would break the trust of the Rebellion and its allies. But if it failed, it would roll off as the Remnants of the Spider's fallen Empire having joined with the surviving Crusaders. Essentially leaving her overall intentions secluded from public knowledge outside of those present. And with the inclusion of the undead, there was security in the fact that dead men would tell no tales. As he snaked around the others during Nyrys' explanation, Oni made his way toward the one known as @Krath Inmortos. He could feel the coldness of death upon this one, smell the rot of flesh beneath the guide of life. When he approached, his blade beckoned the dead that swirled around both and the veil of souls that dorn his form shifted in its call. Rotted gums revealed themselves as the smirk adorned his face and the rotted form of the Mandalorian he possessed announced his presence. "So you are the Lord of Mon Cal?" He poised, the groan of his voice echoing the underworld. "I am Darth Oni." There was no need for Oni to respond to the new Dark Lord just yet, or at all if she did not beckon him. The others held their own means voicing what would need to be said. So for now, it was time for the Necromancers to discuss their futures within her Order. It was only a shame that @Sheog the Madwasn't present to provide his own input.

Oni, who sat in shadowed corner for more than he had liked, oversaw the oath of fealty pledged this day and watched in eagerness as many came. As always, they came, they bent the knee, and they left. It was a menial matter, but one of great outcome and consequence for the new era that approached, whether it be for the betterment or the worst for the Imperium. For Oni though, over the years, it had became an affliction. Dark Lords had came and gone, too numerous for him to count, since he had tasked himself a servant of the Empire he chose to protect, including two of his brethren. It made him pause and wonder her resolve briefly, but felt things were unavoidable in the Grand Scheme. Either she would reign Supreme, or would falter and fizzle. Still, he heard her words thoroughly. After the others had concluded, Oni stepped to the forefront from behind them, his decrepit form that laid beneath revealed in the rays of sunshine that draped the war-torn planet of Naboo as the dead echoed his call, the spirits entangled and feasted upon by his power. Like a Wraith, he glided into place, the frenzy of bound souls draping across his form lower the gift of Coronation as he took footing before the New Dark Lady of the Sith. It was the known Forlorn Talisman, a creation of emotions hung in suspension, eternally contained for amusement or candor. A Wraith's last moment forever lasting. With a bow, he presented it Lady Nyrys. "Mi'lady... Fellow Sith." He began, his voice groaning with the souls of the past like nails on chalkboards. "I have watched the Rise and Fall of many Dark Lords since the time of Lady Dominique and my birth as Lord of the Sith, a few I avoided intentionally. And in that time, none had succeeded, including Lord Exodus. I stand behind your decision and encourage it. If any oppose, I offer these words:" Oni let the room silence for listening attentions to be grabbed. "The Way of the Sith is mundane. It is unbounded freedom. Unbound Freedom to fight, to kill, to learn, to test ourselves above and beyond what we believe to be our limits. No chains, no shackles. Just our bodies, our wits, and our souls, untethered. Mundane, but definitive. And yet millenia upon millenia, we have been wiped into near extinction, mostly by our own devices or egos. That is the reason and need behind a leader. For without one, we are already doomed to die." "The Great Dark Lords have known and understood this. A heavy pill to swallow, but one that must be forced down each individual throat is our flaws and our fallibility. As great as we may be individually, others are far greater. Warriors test themselves in battle, but true Warriors know when to fall back and when to attack. Assassins test themselves with feats of improbability, but True Assassins know that the easiest feat is from the Shadows. And Sorcerers test themselves against the very fabric of reality, but a True Sorcerer understands the fabric first. I have drank from all three cups during my time as a Sith, and each has brought me a better understanding, especially in myself as a Sith and where my place stands. Something every Sith should do. You all would do best to heed my words." "This Rebellion is our own doing. We may have held leverage after Onderon, but we lost it all with Corellia, Mon Cal, and Felucia. We became the aggressors the moment we stopped the propaganda. And now, with each day, planets and troops join their cause, just as survivors of Naboo will. It's best that my brother's Empire dies in his departure and we return to storyholos that parents scare their children to sleep with, a figment of imagination.... For a time at least. For in the shadows, we can hone our Order and rebuild. We will cut away the weak in unity, and foster the strong in kinship. And when our Dark Lady feels it's time to test her Empire against the Galaxy and define her reign, our blades will illuminate the truths of it." Oni's gaze shift across the room. "As Sith, we are Free. But as citizens and members of her Imperial Rule, we are bound to her laws. Our duty is to the betterment of it. Hinder it, and you become a liability, and liabilities are lost causes. I repurpose lost causes rather well."

Oni smiled a kindred smile toward the girl at her answer, a similar affliction that he himself had long dealt with and overcome. He may have been only a pupil of the Chaos God known as Nurgle, the last of his lineage just as Exodus was, but to Nurgle, all were his children. And now with Exodus gone, the only notice a exiting blip from the radar of existence, he had became the last. The Last Student of Nurgle, and the Last Alcazarin of Dominus. Such are the burdens of the Lesser Known. "As are we all." He replied, placing his decrepit hand over his left pectoral and met her bow. "I take that you are a Lady of the Order then? To have witnessed so much in so little time speaks of great fortitude. Surely no one has passed up such strength." As he poised the question, the Gates of the Palace began to creak open and his gaze shifted from her toward the awaiting Dark Lady and her Consort that sat within, the smell of lust and extracurricular activities flowing upon the stale air that was released. Turning back to the young girl, he offered her the lead, the Talisman shifting aside to allow passage. Once she had taken it, Oni would follow her lead. "I am known as Darth Oni." He spoke, the voice echoing from his lips resounding of a simpler time. "I was once known as the Demon of Nurgle, Alcazarin, Protector of the Sith Empire." He chuckled briefly. "And yet, titles are such farces when beliefs are betrayed." With that said, and his entrance made, Oni stepped to the corner of the Main Hall and would remain in the Shadows of the others as the rest would come and go. Only when the Dark Lady called upon him, would he present himself and the gift her bore to her Coronation.

As Oni stood before the great gates of the Nabooan Palace in wait, a voice spoke from the Shadows of this world and beckoned his attention, few rarely to approach without notice. Oni turned his inquisitive head, the stench of decay and rot whipping about as he moved. He smiled, the yellowing of the ivory noticeable from the whitened gums. "The same that has always beckoned me." He voiced, the Force that swirled around putrid and stagnant. "With the Rise and Fall of another Dark Lord, I've come to pledge my allegiance yet again. Coyfully, he turned to completely face her, letting his feet grace the ground for only a moment as his gaze met the girl's and his body stood strong in its decrepit state. Her amethyst eyes seemed familiar, as if he had once met them before. Did he know the child's parents? Was she there when he met with Exodus? He couldn't get a reading about her, not without forcibly intruding. "Tell me child... Have we met before?" He poised, the gift for the Dark Lady held upon the unfeathered souls swirling behind him. "It has been many moons since I last gave my allegiance to my Brother, Lord Exodus, and yet, you seem familiar."

A Primordial Death loomed over the Naboo as a lone ship exited hyperspace above the planet and fell upon its surface as rain. It wasn't the feeling of dread not despair that flowed upon the currents of the Force, nor was it bleak and hopelessness. No. This was Darkness. This was the blood Chaos, the hunger of Pestilence, the wrath of Damnation. It was sickness and weakness. For the Son of Nurgle had arrived and his spiritual presence within the Force echoed in its ripples and pressured it's depths. All knew. For even the dead beckoned his call. The screams of the dead cried like demons being dragged to persecution as the vortex of souls darkened his path, the condemned a mere pathway for his decent. And as the ship came aground, his Blade became their beacon as the Souls draped the Sith Master in their darkened veil. Through the eyes of his vassel, he gazed upon the Soldiers that awaited him as he glided across the metal that refused to meet his step, unworthy and menial. He smelt of death, and his flesh rotted with decay, his wounds carrying disease and gangrene. And yet, the Wraith within lived, unencumbered by the finality of Death. A mind within reached out like a calling, beckoning @Darth Nyrys with it's presence that would be unknown and yet familiar, the age of it reminiscent of those who came before her, and yet, even older: similar to that of the Spider's. And the Darkness of it's soul would be unmistakable, rotted and diseased as it's outer shell, a plague upon the flow of the Force. Darth Oni smiled as he made a brief contact with his target, his gaze still holding it's tie to the Soldiers before him. He opened his mouth, the words groaning like the hellfires of Chaos its self. "Take me to the Dark Lord. I wish to meet with her." Before Oni stood a large crystalline figurine, the souls of the condemned swirling beneath it infinitely at his will, it's ghastly appearence housing the former inhabitant of the vassel he possessed as it hung upon the web of souls. With a wave of his hand, it began to move forward as the guards turned to lead the way, Oni in tow. As chatter came across the wires about his request to meet with the Dark Lady of the Sith and his credentials were verified, the Wraith pushed forward.

Oni stood at the forefront, a calm demeanor stretching across his face behind the Masque of Vothe he adorn as he watched his opponent's reaction with curiosity. She hid her feelings for this face so well. He grimaced as the group retreated, the Sith Master sheathing his blades to his hip. It was commonplace for the weaker to keep their distance, but distance would not protect them today. It was time to pour all his energy into this fight and he would no longer hold back. With eyes glazed over in the blackest of black, his sight of the world around him dimmed save for the spark of life, especially the one who had felt the touch of his Fulgurmancy. She was alit like that of a starmap, easily read and manipulated. He grinned, her movements and actions a forewarning of what was about to transpire, not that the retreat spoke any less. Mandalorians didn't know the meaning of failing unless death spoke it so vividly. Their attacks would come. And come they did, three bursts of a concussion rifle in unison with a fragmentation grenade, his grasp upon another nearby crate quickly finding hold as he launched it forward toward the group. As the ringing pierced his ears and blood dribbled down his face, Oni was met with the unexpected rounds of Mandalor' slug rifle that tore through the explosion that lit the room and revealed his true form in disgust. Lifting his arms up in defense, and using the Force in an attempt to deflected the rounds, Oni found the slugs buried in his arm to the bone. Saliva and spit drooled from his mouth behind the Masque in their defiance as he turned his attention and mind in full grievance toward the party. "You wish to face the Master of Death?" He gutterally growled as he pointed toward Terra. "Then meet him, you shall! The Force that had been swirling around Oni in a vortex and being consumed by the former Alcazarin suddenly unleashed its self upon them in full force as the Sith Master loosed his wrath. They would see their deaths and the consequences, know the truth of their doom in all it's glory, something only they believed Kad Ha'ragnir could prove them first. And they would know the false promises provided. Bolts of Electricity began culminating from the walls within the Vault, the power of the owner's own reliance upon technology empowering Oni to his fullest. And as the Basilisk beast reared his ugly head, Oni lunged the remnants of power he had collected at Terra. ((3)) Actions: Used Terra's connection with Pivoting Strike in conjunction with knowledge of NFU actions to amplify Perceive the Flow of the Cosmos and Know the Enemy in his initial defence with Force Deflection hindering the Slugs in his latter defence. Attacks were Death Touch on the group and Spear of Khlorithian attached to Terra.

"Excellent." Oni managed to get out before the Mandalorian and her cohorts began their own assault. So this is the one who had did the duty that had been entrusted to him. She was the reason he was the last. His sinister smirk broadened to a manical smile as he reached out into the Force and grasped at a nearby crate, flinging it in between them and letting the flechettes and crimson bolts encompass it's form in his retreat. Flinching as a few crimson bolts and the heat of the explosive flechettes covered his retreating form farther into the darkened room, Oni reacted as naturally as he could against the harm that his new form had endured, the practioner of the Forlorn Veil no longer capable of feeling pain as his opposition would. He removed the piercing darts from his arm and thigh and observed the burns that melted some of his exposed flesh, dusting the remnants of the flame into ashes. "I really must thank you then. If you hadn't destroyed them, I would have." In the cover of Darkness that Oni had retreated, a vile consequence of coincidences began to occur within the shadows. Hushed whispers and chantings began to unfold from the four corners as he ignited his blade, it's silver hue hauntingly crying for vengeance as a symbiance of ethereal attacks began upon his opposition. Then Oni stepped forward and draped his hand down his face as he stepped into the light once again, yet, Terra would know the visage he wore well. Standing before her was none other than Vothe Kyrik. Voice and face in unison, Oni spoke from the Veil. "You did a great service for the Sith Empire. Let that debt be paid" Outstretching his arm to his side, a volley of Lightning connected with a nearby paneling and traversed it's path in her direction. ((2)) Actions: Deflected most of the Flechettes with a sweep of the crate. Following Actions are found here: Necromancy Guide. Due to Renunciation of Mortality, Oni is incapable feeling pain. Attack action to NPCs are Haunted Blade. Used Death Masque to take on visage of Vothe Kyrik. And Attack action on PC is Pivoting Strike found here: Fulgurmancy Guide.

They'qell's gaze shifted quizzically at Terra as her voice rang out, a eerie moment of silence draping the room following. But then he looked down, horror in his eyes hidden away from the others as the realization that he had picked the cylindrical Tonfas up. A voice began to echo in his head as frozen fear took hold of his form, a gutteral growl hissing in his ear as the voice denounced his existence. As he faded from this world, all he heard was an echoing laughter from within as darkness took over and his eyes glazed over black. Oni had claimed this form as his own and cast away the soul within. Oni turned to face the intruders, his glazed eyes returning to their natural brown as he stepped toward them casually. In They'qell's voice, he spoke. "They seem harmless to me, Mi'lady Mandalor'" Oni's plan was a simple one, take hold of the weakest and walk out with the stronger, no one the wiser with the access of They'qell's memories. That was, until his gaze fell upon this Mandalore draped in black, the familiar scent of old permeating from beneath her cloak. Darkmetal, the unofficial Insignia of the Alcazarin that he once belonged to. His grip tightened in anger at the patronage, the cursed metal meant to forever be buried. However was someone of her stature able to acquire what he himself buried on Almas? Haphaestus? No. He would never lower himself. Ki? No. She had disappeared with Nurgle and Cyrus. That only left the gifts he gave Exodus before he departed for Almas with Camik. And Camik was incapable of forging such metal. This farce was quickly coming to an end. "You.... Where did you aquire that metal, child?" A deep gutteral voice spat in reserved anger as Oni pointed toward her armor. "You are not Alcazarin. You are undeserving, unworthy!" Oni's eyes closed for a brief second, opening back up with a black glaze covering their entirety as the air around them became thick and foreboding. The Force around him became a vortex of power as he seeped himself in it and turned his frightful eyes to all whom he now condemned with utter insanity. Memories of their past meant to plague them, the deaths of both those they cherished and despised meant to haunt their thoughts and vision, to relive their worst moments in life without control. And within that brief second, Oni ignited the blades and attacked this Mandalor'. "I will strip it from your form and return it to where it came from." Oni growled in disgust as the gap closed and he shoved his right blade forward and twisted the left inward for defense. ((1)) Actions: Attacked Terra and crew with Force Insanity while initiating close quarter combat.

Identity Real Name: Neo Krell A.K.A: Darth Oni, Lucus Chism, Reaper Grimm Original Homeworld: Nar Shadaa Host Homeworld: Concordia Species: Transient Wraith Subspecies: Kiffar Physical Description Age: 37 Height: 5'10 Weight: 167lbs Hair: Black Eyes: Brown Sex: Male Personality: At first glance, Oni is care free, verging on a Lawful stance as a Sith. Respectful and laid back, Oni tends to follow his brethren rather than lead. As a practitioner of the Forlorn Veil form of Necromancy, he can have a tendency to be paranoid around other Force Users, most notably other Necromancers and Jedi. But in battle, Oni is ruthless and bloodthirsty, preferring to psychologically break his opponents before allowing them death. Equipment Clothing or Armor:Mandalorian Prelest Robes (w/ Durasteel Pauldrons,Vambrace, Greaves, Gauntlets and Bevor) Weapon: Forlorn Staff (Wyrmsteel Staff with Forlorn Talisman atop), Haunted Blade Common Inventory: Essentials (Water, Food, Change of Robes, etc.) Faction Information Force User Alignment: Lawful Evil Current Faction Affiliation: Sith Current Faction Rank: Master Class Alignment: Sorcerer (Krath) History Force Side: Dark Trained by: Nurgle/Dominus Trained who: Cyrus the Virus, Camik Known Force Skills: Mastered Skills Force Illusion Force Deflection Breath Control Comprehend Speech Drain Knowledge Force Insanity Alcazarin Absorption Force Jump/Leap Force Push/Pull Force Sight Telepathy Telekinesis Force Sense Krath Skills(Intermediate) Necromancy Skills Power behind the Veil Renunciation of Mortality Pact of Vengeance Dark Passenger Death Touch Skeleton Key of Despair Cistern of Sorrow and Chains Death Masque Hellweaver The Peculiar Madness of the Veiled Forlorn Talisman Fulgurmancy Skills Pivoting Strike The Delving Perceive the Flow of the Cosmos Know the Enemy The World is Not Worthy to Feel My Tread Shocking Rebuke The Breaking Spear of Khlorithian Mark of Annihilation Known Lightsaber Skills: Known Forms Form I Form V Form VI Form VII Jar'Kai Preferred Form VII Sub-Background: Host was a Mandalorian Crusader under Mandalore the Bloody. Background: A former Bounty Hunter under the Hutts, Oni was trained by Nurgle to be a Sith. Was a member of the Alcazarin subfaction of the Sith under Nurgle aka Darth Dominus. Ship Registration Name: Class: Model: Manufacturer: Length: Armaments: Armor: Anti-Personnel Defenses: Modifications: Appearance:

Fearful mutterings mixed with a horrific gaze would be the be Prelest's response as he stepped backwards, the air around him almost suffocating, his vision waning on the urge to black out. Horror had filled his bones and fear had consumed his soul, all while stubbornness and ego refused to let him retreat. His prayers would only intensify as the moments passed and he stepped to the rear, until the moment the makeshift door would open and silence would encompass his hopeless words. Inside the vault were numerous items that Apothos had gathered in his time as a collector, some valuable, some valuable only to him. But amidst the items were a pair of Lightsaber Shotos, pristine in condition, and eeriely captivating. As the rustled dust began to settle, an unsettling aura would fall upon the group, the kind that sends chills down your spine and causes one to be overtly cautious if retreat wasn't an option. And in the distance, where the Shotos were preserved, the click of a lock would resound. Oni played with the Prelest's mind even more, the fear and egotistical his favorite of many flavors as he tightened his grasp upon the Mandalorian's mind. Moments seem to go missing as Oni pressed upon his mind, then minutes, finding himself in different locations within the vault than where he had been before, producing inward bouts of hysteria and involuntary ticks. But these were just moments of intended play, meant to weaken the mind and present possession. And as his gaze fell upon the Shotos, greed would consume his thoughts, an insatiable hunger to possess the blades with no real personal desire to. Slowly, his hand began to creep outward into the abyss of the display, wanting to touch them beyond rationality. It was in this moment his mind became aware of his inability to resist, and in this moment, the point of no return. Oni's hold was almost complete.