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Korriban

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Mordeci looked up. Was he surprised? Indeed he was. Was he in disbelief, however? No. He believed that the dark side wascapable of such feats. He took her hand, though it was more of a formality, as he rose on his own. "The warrior's way is brutish. It lacks the delicate touch sometimes required. It is like a club. Dangerous, yes. But also predictable. Used with little or no thought. Sometimes, all you need to kill is the general, and the army falls apart. I will become an assassin. The scalpel of death, rather than the club.

His mind raced, thinking of what was to come. He was to become Sith, now. If his luck and skill held up, he would perhaps ven become a Lord. But that was in the future.

"What do I do now?

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“Well naturally we make you a Sith Assassin, like the Spider.”

A bright blue eye winked.

“But really we teach you how to become invisible and strike where it hurts most.”

She let go of his hand and pointed to a large expanse of shifting sand that was gathered at the feet of several statues.

“Go sit, meditate, and figure out how to disguise yourself in the sands.”

 

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The subaltern had tried to be quiet in his approach to where the high ranking Sith Lord was teaching her apprentice, an effort to not disturb the mighty lord perhaps. But it was ineffective and the twinkle of laughter left Valinor’s eyes in a second as she felt the nervous man’s approach. Her voice was soft as she whispered to the apprentice as she stood up and placed a small hand over her beautiful face.

 

“We are disturbed. Can you not sense his apprehension? It is...delicious.” The hand covering her face went dark and in an instant the smiling face of Katarra Corun now deemed Lord Valinor was gone. Swallowed in shadows. “There must be something of great calamity to disturb me as such.”

 

Two sharp knocks echoed in the room from the subaltern, who swiftly opened the door and stepped inside. His face downcast. But his apprehension had piqued to a ferocious anticipation. And he announced himself, the eagerness dripping off his voice like a thick film.

 

“The Dark Lord has called all forces to action My Lord.”

 

He saluted and held out a slip of parchment like flimsiplast.

 

“We are called to war lord.”

 

Beneath the masquerade of shadows a smile crept from ear to ear. Her voice was harsh and victorious.

 

“Assemble the armies.”

 

Korriban had been called. And the old Ark of the Sith would answer.

 

“Stay in my shadow little one. By weeks end you and I may dine on the flesh of mighty warriors.”

 

________________________

 

Great shuttles descended from the grey cloudless sky to land among the old statues. They would be loaded with Lords and Ladies of the sith and their retinue before departing for space and the summons of their liege lord. Some many thousands of force users left the Temple of Unholy Dormition in this matter.

________________________

 

|The Felix legions|

marcet sine adversario virtus

 

One by one they appeared, black helmets dull in the Korribani sun, eyes dark behind the veil of the force. Blasters they carried, cradled in brutish arms, with sabres of darksteel slung on dark leather belts. Creatures of the darkside, unholy in intention and spirit, prepared to fight the enemies of their Lord commander. The dark four thousand and one.

 

 

((You may post us leaving to space. Have fun with it.))

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As months passed, Qaela immersed herself in the daily maintenance of running the Bastion of Pelko at the commands of the Dark Lord. The success of his mighty campaign had created a massive flow of new recruits eager to seize the power offered by the Dark Side. Many hadn't managed to survive the training and constant power struggles within the Sith, but there were substantial numbers of competent and dedicated Sith Lords. Some of those under her had challenged her authority, but she had dealt with them in sufficiently brutal fashions as to discourage too much ambition for her position. She also had developed a small but effective and loyal following to protect her position and increase her power.

 

When word arrived that Exodus was summoning the armed forces of his Empire, Qaela knew that it was time for her to leave this dusty, desolate planet. Despite her role and the love she had developed in instilling whatever sense of clan and unity into the normally fractious Sith philosophy, she yearned for the green lands she had grown up in. The desert was too dry and barren for her tastes.

 

Working with the various Sith military commanders and fellow Sith Masters, she did her part in assembling and loading up those within the Bastion that were ready to fight. When all was ready, she joined them. It had been a long time since she had gone to war, and when she had, it hadn't always turned out well for her. Scars on her body and soul attested to that fact. Despite that, she believed it was time to keep her word to Exodus to serve him. He had summoned the Sith and she was now Sith so she would fight as he needed.

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Posted (edited)

Mordeci followed his new master's instructions, settling down and closing his eyes, trying to meditate. He focused himself, tried to reach out, but something wasn't clicking. He called on the force, and it answered, but how to hide himself was beyond him. it wasn't as intuitive as merely moving things with the force was. Before he could go any further. They were interrupted, however, by a timid man, careful not to tread to heavily, as though the ground were covered in landmines primed to kill. His master's humor was infectious, if dark. He did not guffaw, or chuckle, but he appreciated the humor. He had never been known for his sense of humor though, even on Carida.

 

The man's message, however, was a humorless one. They were going to war, and he was little more than an acolyte with rudimentary training with a blade and the force. Indeed, he felt more at home with a blaster as of now than he did the new weapon that he held in his hand. And yet, he was meant to be better than this. He wasn't a foot soldier in someone else's war, like his brothers were. He would be a foe to be reckoned with. And this was his chance to prove himself, for better or for worse.

 

He followed the Sith Lord closely, keeping his head down. He had heard stories of how the Sith treated their rivals, and he would like to slip under their radars for as long as possible. If his pathetic attempt to fight Valinor was any indication of how'd he fare against a proper Jedi or Sith, he'd have to pick his targets carefully. He would stay by his master's side, to be sure however. He doubted she would save him if he got in trouble regardless of where he was, but he had no intention of picking a fight he couldn't handle.

 

Then again, most people who die in wars never do.

 

He boarded the shuttle behind Lord Valinor, looking out over Korriban as it rose, the legions of Sith soldiers and warriors preparing for the conflict. It was an epic spectacle, one that would strike fear into the hearts of their enemies. Still, there was a question on his mind as they departed the planet.

 

"My Lord, where will the fight be?"

Edited by Mavanger

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