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  • S I T H C A M P A I G N
    [The Scourge of Nabara]

 

 

 

Centuries ago, a ferocious legion of Taung tribesmen rampaged across this land, but were halted at the Battle of the Blood Reef by the power of an estranged Dark side sorcerer and his minions. The March of the Tyrant, as it was known, unleashed brute Sith Magic to defeat the warrior horde on those very plains. Stories tell of the Tyrants' raw ability to manipulate the land, subduing and imprisoning the unrelenting tribes beneath the war-torn terrain. Over time followers and survivors of the proud people began worship over the final resting place of these tribal warriors and built catacombs of cold stone over the battlefield in their honor. The influence of the Hjertet av Raseri is beginning to thaw out an ever ancient power, warming spirits of the dead that have long been lost to the annals of history.

 

It is a plague that has resulted in a quarantine of a large circumference of land in the deep South of Onderon, investigation reveals that the plague was created by the aggressive expanse of the nearby Hjertet av Raseri and is centered around a festering populace of afflicted fauna. A team of scout troopers enlisted to survey the area, but communications with the group have been nothing short of failure. A distress beacon has recently been deployed in the thick of it, but the objective is buried too far beneath the deep cover of the forest. It is impossible for our ships to rendezvous, you must adhere to the ground game. Several stationed speeders are untenanted just outside of Dragons' Gate, use these to spark your journey, for travel to the South is long-winded.

 

The damp forests of Nabara was known as the dwelling-place of these Taung, and those that now occupy the area reflect the gladiatorial qualities of those that were before. The forest was a haven for those that lived for the hunt, who were able to survive and live off of the land. Nabara is a large expanse of connected woodlands, with long, murky streams running along the relentless undergrowth and a magnificent variety of animals living in the foliage of the incredibly tall trees. Most that live in the region still build their homes like their ancestors did, constructing houses and huts high into the trees and on the treetops. Since Nabara can be and often is a cruel home, few of these settlements are permanent. These forests are also home to a great variety of dangerous beasts, ranging from the more mundane Tee-muss all the way to terrifying Drexl and Gutkurr.

 

 

 

  • 1) Reach the Beacon
    2) Eliminate the Afflicted
    3) Optional: Redezvous with the Scouting Party

 

 

Guide: Lord Exodus

Participants:

 


  •  
    [sith] Exodus
    [sith] [Telperien Ar-Pharazon] [ MISSING ]
    [sith] [Nok Morliss] [ MISSING ]
    [sith] [snake] [ MISSING ]
    [sith] [Milenko] [ MISSING ]
    [Ally] [Celora Karth] [ MISSING ]
     

 

 

OOC THREAD* - Look Here

 

 

  • ==============================================================================================

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

R E N D E Z V O U S

 

 

 

Valandil Simmons is an exceptionally handsome man, but beneath the good looks is a shallow, abrasive personality. He often stares vacantly into the distance, mentally dissecting the intricacies of his lifeline. He is perceptive and has good knowledge of survival in Onderon and is usually seen buried in traditional card games. He usually wears a black robe and has his spear slung over his shoulder. His long chestnut hair reaches down to his waist and wears a strange pair of goggles to shield his eyes. Beneath his robe he wears a custom-built plate barding that's adorned with green lining and jungle motifs. Valandil is envious of those that immerse themselves in the adrenaline of adventure, for his time as a Onderonion hunter ended prematurely when his legs were viciously ripped from their sockets by a pregnant Drexl. He spends his days hoarding small treasures and trading for art, and anything that he so desires. Nonetheless Valandil is a true patriot, and would do anything for his people. He is fiercely protective of his fellow citizens and foreign allies. By the narrow neck of Dragon Gate, he watched for five particular individuals who had been assigned to his post, knowing his message had reached them the night prior. Just outside of the bastion, Valandil was accompanied by several ground-speeders, all of varying sizes. The odd folk, or hunter, or trooper would pass him by and enter through the Gate, or would follow the fork in the road to enter Iziz by other means. The cold and dark bridge however is where he pondered a great many things, mostly alone. With nothing but the scruff of his beard in one hand, and a chewed smoke-pipe dangling from the tip of his lips, he sat and waited..

 

 

The path to Nabara is long but straightforward. We will follow a lengthy trek that will take you across tall bridges, through dangerous grasslands, deep canyons, and uncharted passages. The path begins on the far-west side of Dragon's Gate, on a bridge directly adjacent to edge of the Wall that holds Iziz, and passing over Orahk Canyon. Once this bridge is crossed, we will be on a road that takes travelers through all areas of the Southern Wildlands. The region that this new scouting party begins on is known as the Ospien Frontier, a mildly charted area known for its spacious grasslands, large cliff-sides, and windy weather. While traveling here, we must be aware of chance encounters both in and out of plain sight. If we breach and make it into the frontier, the incline of the our journey increases and we may attempt to reconnect communications with the former scouting party at the checkpoint. You will know it when you see it. Once established, we will cross over another bridge, marking the halfway point on our journey to Nabara Forest.

 

The terrain takes a rocky turn from there and the amount of flora will increase dramatically. Additionally, the wind speed picks up significantly just outside of this area. Because of the strong winds starting at this point, we may have to adjust our travel method. Once we pass through this cragged area of the Ospien Frontier, we will find ourselves at the top of a large hill covered in high-grass. This is where the scouts were last documented. Loud, eat-shattering screams filtered through the comm-systems before it blacked and that is the last we heard. Just below this hill is the face of Nabara Forest, and it is not a pretty sight. For miles and miles, the stretch of the daunting forest blots out the rest of the world both wide and high. From here, it is not certain what we may find or even what we may see. They say the Sith have planted something deep within the stretches of these unremembered wildwoods, something that is unearthing the very dark of this world. But we shall see.

 

- Vil.

 

 

Dragon's Gate (3LT499 c)

The Mouth of Orahk Canyon

.

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Nabara, the dark forest such as it was jutted out of the open plains and stretched out as far as eyes could see. The forest was untamed and wild and the trunks of the massive oaks were old, their roots a gnarled mass that jutted from the ground on the banks of the streams in twisted knots of old wood. Or at least that was what the holos told her. As they approached the dragon’s gate, she took a deep breath and let it slowly exhale through her nose in a rush, letting her mind clear so that she could perceive the force. They would be soon on the edge of the exclusion zone and the anticipation of venturing into the dark forest tasted of sweetness in the force of those around her. She nodded to Valandil, their guide, and though he was attractive in the modern sense she did not consider him in that light. He was below her in the force and if her mother had taught her anything it was not to settle with your lessors. If she was going to mate with anyone it would be a powerful lord.

 

Perhaps one in the company would be that, but for now she shouldered her pack and inclined her head to her companions. The black leather tight fitting necklace she wore around her thin neck held a spider of silver and crimson rubies. Marking her as the apprentice of the Dark Lord. The Emperor of the Sith.

 

“A fair evening to you.”

 

Her voice was hoarse and harsh though spoken through full beautiful lips that were stained red as if with blood. Her alabaster skin glowed in the setting sun’s rays and she leaned on a spear made of onyx metal whose point was sharper than razors. Also slung on a leather cord was a bow made of wood, taller than herself and with several hempen cords that she kept in a metal pouch on her belt. Also a bag of arrows that was tucked into her backpack. She carried the traditional weapons of her people, with the addition of an ancient lightsabre that dangled from a leather thong on her belt. She was ready for an adventure and she would not be turned away by silly stories.

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The very darkness of the planet tasted sweet to Snake’s flickering tongue as he sat coiled near the engine block area of the ornate speeder Nok had chartered. Neither of the duo of Darth Akheron’s apprentices liked the other; but still, they were begrudgingly aligned for the moment since their fated mental lashings of one another on Kuat. Even so, it had allowed the duo to peer into the very soul of the other. Nok knew where the snake’s mind faltered and Snake had seen the depths of the Nemoidian’s fears that drove him.

 

And now, here they were summoned for a mission into the depths of the wilds of Onderon; paired together to test their mettle. If only one of them returned, he had proved to be the worthier of their master’s training and attention. If both, then they may have just founded a dark alliance to test the bounds of The Sith Empire. Besides that, Nok served as Snake’s ride for the time being. Even on Onderon, people were unnerved by the massive serpent, his belly quietly scraping along the cobblestones as he slithered alongside the much more dignified Nemoidian; both reviled in their own right.

 

As the speeder slowed, the duo exitted the speeder, the driver seemingly only too happy to accept his payment, not even bothering to question the lack of any sort of substantial tip for ferrying the greedy Nemoidian and his ‘pet’ from the landing port all the way across the city to this desolate, rarely travelled bridge. Why didn’t I go into the family business like mother wanted instead? the driver lamented to himself, Never would have to deal with weirdos like these that might eat me as soon as pay me if I was stuck in the library researching some big wigs long lost uncle who died in some unknown war now would I?!

 

Zipping away, left the snake and Nemoidian standing there, the only silence broken ever so slightly by the sound of Snake’s tongue as it flicked in and out, smelling the darkness and potential prey, countless, that lurked just beyond the bridge in the dark wilds beyond bathed by the last rays of the setting sun. There would be no stopping him this time.

 

At Nok’s signal, they began to cross the bridge; one slithering along, each muscle tensing and loosing in tandem as he moved along, a shadowy blue form nearly invisible against the long shadows of the evening; the other walking with all the dignity he could muster, his fine robes replaced by combat leathers, a standard soldier survival pack, and a belt of ammo adjoined by a heavy blaster pistol and his always present four vibroknives.

 

As they neared the small group, Snake’s hunger was palpable in the air. Here there was prey that no puny security forces would miss. Here, he could hunt to his soul’s and belly’s content.At the sight of the group ahead of them, the slithering being could barely contain his burning passion to partake of the feast of two-legged flesh before him.

 

Sensing his serpentine companion’s primal desires Nok opened his mind once again fully to the force, reaching out until he touched the dark pit that he could instantly recognize as that of the snake’s mind. Finding it, Nok focused his mind on a single thought and forced it along their invisible connection; a thought not of words or language, but one of images and emotions, a thought that conveyed clearly that this was not yet the time to feast on those before them, they might be of some use yet. . .

 

Begrudgingly, Snake slowed a fraction, his tongue tucked back inside his mouth as his lidless eyes shot a condemning glance at the two-legged economical slaughterhouse before the two moved in tandem down the bridge. The legless being’s hunger still palpable in the air as he looked over those of his supposed travel companions, deciding which would be missed less.

 

 

((ARRIVAL OST COWRITTEN BY NOK AND SNAKE))

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T'was a brisk day for a simple stroll among Onderon's masses, Milenko casually walking along, his hands intertwined behind his back as he marched forward toward today's mission, humbly taking in the sights and sounds of the once Mandalorian world. To think, that once upon a time, this world was a hive for the most notorious hunters and fighters of the Galaxy at large. And in this thought, Milenko found himself intrigued. Truly, Exodus, the Spider King, had returned its once glorious history back into reality, and he soaked it in like a sponge.

 

Soon he found himself at his destination, a place known simply as the Dragon's Gate, a transmission the night before mysteriously finding it's way into his inbox. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and so he sought out the being behind such invitation. And here he was, gazing upon the bastion overlooking the plains and forest across the bridge, in wonderment of waited beyond. And it seemed others had already arrived, three to be exact, none of which he knew. The Apprentice of the Mad Hutt held little time to get to know those he had yet to come across, but perhaps was such a time. With only Scorp Esson's lightsaber upon his hip, and the vibrodaggers sheathed, he made his silent approach.

 

When Milenko walked, it was as if he glided across the ground upon which he walked, the very air around him flowing naturally in a mixture of his own presence. Like a ghost upon the wind, he was there in form, yet at the same time wasn't. He simply presented himself as he chose. And normally, in tow, were that of his experiments known simply as One, Two, or Three. Only they were absence during this outing, Milebko chosing rather to walk among the lesser in his own singular presence. Walking next to the three previous arrivals, Milenko stood firstly in silence.

 

Watching, waiting, his fingers pulling tight the gloves which enveloped his princely hands, Milenko looked on as the three made their presence known to the one that had beckoned them, studying them, learning their approach and ways. And then came his turn, the young Prince blowing before the one known as Valandil. "Milenko Shiro, at your command."

 

His words were short, to the point, respectfully, as his curiosity although his greatest weakness, was also his greatest strength. He gazed upon the man, gauging not his personality, but his stature as well. His almond eyes were hollow, unconcerned of the others as he took in the man's outward appearance. For Milenko had began to learn a humbled truth, that appearance, although reasonable misjudged, spoke volumes of who a being was if studied correctly. A lesson that Master Sheog had recently began to instill within the Wild Prince.

 

As the wind swirled around Milenko, its grasp lifting his trenchcoat and shifting his blackened hair, he simply stared at the the man that called upon them, awaiting his response, his eyes shifting toward the others from time to time, gauging them as well.

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Celora feared the Sith, feared their power and their dark path, feared their hate and their rage. It was a cold fear, the kind that trickled down her back in shivering waves, slipping into her bunk at nights and filling her waking dreams. It seaped from mind to soul, it crawled down her spine like an eel. It's power reminded her of the pain she had suffered, of stronger creatures dominating and controlling and forcing others to suffer. Her very being recoiled from it, the last unbroken vestiges of the girl she might have been had not slavery been her life. And yet the power called to her, a quiet and insidious drone within her belegaured mind, the thrill of unnatural strength, a way to avoid being broken and enslaved. A way to avoid being Weak, ever again.

 

Few indeed were the chances to learn the powers of the Sith, especially under the auspices of the Dark Lords. Celora hoped to walk the fine line, using the powers of the Dark Side without embracing them, exploiting it without falling within its iron and torturous grip. The call for a mission had come, and so had she, clad in newly acquired Black Sun fatigues. A stolen Imperial grenade launcher rested on her back, while the Vermandois' lightsaber rested at her hip.

 

Several of the Sith were already gathered when she arrived, the presence of the Dark Side overpowering. Each was forbidding in their own way, the plethora of races and weaponry constant in the Sith on full display. Clearly, the young human girl was the only non Sith affiliated member there, and she knew she would suffer for it. Such was the price of power.

 

"I'm here."

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Nok's eyes scanned the group from behind a golden mask. His blind eyes useless, he saw them in the Force, the aura of their power forming around their silhouettes. Fortunately, their shapes were enough for him, and he mentally pulled up datasheets he'd memorized on all notable Sith, one of the first things he'd done once he'd had a moment alone.

 

First, the young woman. Telperiën Ar-Pharazon. The Spider's own apprentice. Nok tended to classify people by how they might serve or be manipulated, but everything about this woman screamed at him to avoid her. Even without her association with the Dark Lord of the Sith, her mysterious witch background and utter confidence in such a rugged landscape warned off Nok's interest like a skin of spines. Tread carefully with her.

 

Next, the epicanthix prince Milenko. He was unusual. He displayed all the classic signs of nobility. An ease when it came to handling power, an almost careless surity of his place, and a body and manner that shouted luxury and refinement. This wasn't a mission to him, this was a show. Nok considered him, but dismissed him as an immediate pawn or ally. A man like that wouldn't be obviously manipulated, and seeing a neimoidian like Nok would put him on edge. Better to leave him alone until Nok needed him. Or until he needed Nok. Either opened up the possibility for an advantage.

 

Finally, there was the girl. While Telperiën and Milenko were both young, this teenager pushed the boundary of what Nok expected on a mission like this, and that unnerved him. What unnerved him more was that he had absolutely no idea who she was. The scarred face, the armor...a new apprentice? Nok studied her, wondering if she was hiding some power, and ran her through a silent evaluation. She held herself well, a clear sign of strength. Her weapons looked cared for, something only someone who had been forced to use them could appreciate the importance of. And...she was afraid.

 

That last bit hadn't come from anything visual. Nok could taste it, could feel it brush past his skin like a chill. The Force hummed and rippled off of her, barely perceptible in the riotous noise of life emanating from the forest and the dark auras of the other Sith, but Nok knew the cardinal lesson of life. Pay attention.

 

Capable, but uncertain. Perfect.

 

How to approach her? She'd suspect a direct approach immediately. He didn't have time for anything complicated. Something that played on her fear...

 

Yes, that could work.

 

Snake... Nok touched the connection he shared with the serpent, plucking it gently to get the beast's attention. Nok sent impressions of what he wanted.

 

Menace her...don't attack her. He sent images of one beast driving prey into the open, into the path of another predator. A old-as-life hunting tactic Snake would understand. Scare her just a little, a glare or something simple. Then Nok would move in and "control" the massive snake, lending credence to the idea that Nok was powerful, and worth hanging around. The appearance of power was a power in and of itself.

Edited by Guest

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Fear!

 

Power!

 

They were both absolute in Snake’s mind and both were his domain to lavish in. Here they were, both, intermingled with the strange energies of the unknown that radiated from the planet itself. The warmth of the sunlight still present on the stones of the bridge as it caressed his belly.

 

His dark blue scales scraped the cobbles, his red eyes darting back and forth as he took in the new arrivals. One of them would suffice, in time, when they grew weak traversing the wilds beyond and then he would strike. He would still be in his prime, sculpted by a life of survival on a hostile world, a world he ruled through fear.

 

Speaking of striking. . .

 

Even as he took in the auras of danger and desires for power that emanated from the group, he marveled at his companion. The slimy green two-legged coward, he had to admit, might just be worth something. He was right. The young outsider had potential, was potential; a potential meal. As their minds connected, Snake understood, a combined strike. Everyone here was for themselves serving their dark master. Unusual as it was, an ally for Snake, a pawn to lure his prey, would be useful.

 

Do not disappoint me his thoughts warned, a dangerous threat wafting along their connection, reminding the Neimoidian of the venom dripping from his fangs; all sight shrouded in the dark; cold, dripping venom in the dark. Death would be his punishment if he used Snake this way too often. Snake was no man’s puppet. This plan, however, would serve him and he would be able to use Nok later.

 

Lurching forward, muscled body twisting expertly as his body coiled into a tightly wound mass of sinewy flesh. From this standard serpentine striking position Snake would raise himself up to a towering height over his fellow soon-to-be-adventurers, his tongue lashing in and out as he tasted the air, each molecule telling him more and more about his foes and counterparts. His head weaving back and forth as he tilted forward towards the under grown Celora with each flicker of his forked tongue; his unblinking eyes staring into hers, as if trying to search the depths of her very soul.

 

What is it that you fear? The wordless thought, a presence, he forced forward, willing it towards the mind of the youngling before him. You are mine. I am the stuff of your nightmares. He was not even sure the young thing could feel his mind pressing in towards her.

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Words spoken upon the Force were open for all to hear, if they were but to simply listen, their enlightenment but mere expressions upon the flow of its grasp, strings upon which to be pulled and plucked upon ones desire. And as Milenko stood idly by gauging, so was his mind wondering upon the flowing currents that swirled about, the beings standing here mere obstacle for its stream to flow against and around. Naturally he wished to understand their nature, their thoughts, their secrets. Such knowledge was priceless.

 

His gaze shifted toward Celora and his stride turned and began to approach her, his almond brown eyes glimmering a shimmering green in his approach as his hand grasped the blade he had claimed, its blade igniting and flying forth quickly in what at first appeared to be her own gaze. Yet, its target was another, a slithering serpent that coiled itself behind her cowardly in his approach, the blade humming inches from both the girls head and the Snake's gullet as it pulsated in action, Milenko's head tilted to the side with a grin encompassing his face, his eyes aflame within wild thoughts.

 

"Are you truly the stuff of nightmares? He inquisitively questioned, his thoughts bursting forth in silence and drowning the Slith's mind with echoes. "If so, I'm sure your soul would make an excellent addition to my collection.

 

Milenko's mind began to race with possibilities, of what his fellow Apprentice could truly possess if harnessed correctly, the words Master Sheog had spoken to him at the Battle of Kuat a tantalizing experiment. He had yet held such a chance to try it out, to learn its lessons and know its secrets. But if the serpent before him possessed the power he had mentioned, Milenko grew giddy with excitement. The power to raise the dead, to pull the strings of demons incarnate, and all it took was a powerful soul.

 

His head tilted eerily even more as his gaze shifted toward Nox momentarily, this time speaking out loud. "And what of you Neimoidian? Do you possess such power?

 

Letting his blade deactivate and finding its place once again upon his hip, he reached down and tenderly ran his fingers through the girls hanging hair, letting her locks slide across his gloved hands as he stepped backwards, his gaze shifting between the duo that had found her weak in appearance, its green shimmer still glazing behind his almond eyes. A chuckle erupted briefly. "Power lies in those who truly wield it."

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  • "A frail child representative of the infamous Black Sun, the stoic boy Prince of Panatha, a mongering Neimoidian, the Dathomiri apprentice of the Dark Lord himself, and a giant f—king snake.."

 

 

They might need a name—

 

 

Valandil smiled with stained and broken teeth as they approached, as they mingled, and as their presences unrolled amidst the group. Each of them had a very vivid personality about them, even if nothing was spoken, there was much to be said in silence. Valandil watched amusingly as the inception of a small drama unfolded, but knew this was neither the time nor the place. "Okay! Okay!" The supervisor swung the sash of the spear from his shoulder, and planted the butt of his weapon firmly in front of his feet, sound loudly echoing off of the bridge they stood upon. Three Growler-556s were stationed all around them, all retrofitted to fit a pair of passengers instead of the customary 1. "We've got some hunting to do! Pair up!" Valandil brushed the unkempt hair from his face and pointed his spear towards the destination that they would soon find themselves. Their second-handed chariots that would get them there, were individually painted with distinction for identification purposes. Valandil kicked his first foot forward, and the metal pistons in his legs pushed functionally towards the all black Growler. The white one to the right held a fair bit of rust beneath the front-left turbine, while the red paint on the third landspeeder was peeling from front to back.

 

 

Valandil strapped himself into the driver seat, and flared the engines, roaring the old engine across the walls of Dragon's Gate. He would allow them a few moments to get sorted, and wondered which of the five would find themselves accompanying him in his own cockpit.

 

 

 

[OOC: Pair up, and let's get rolling, the fun begins now]

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"Hmm..."

 

Even from his Force sense, the speeders at first glance appeared to be the same brand of beat-up, well-used junkers you might expect to find out here, but Nok's trainers had taught him to always take as much control of his environment as possible, and ALWAYS choose and care for his equipment carefully. Mistress Kida had literally beat that lesson into him more than a few times. With her fists of course. No sense wasting the perfection of her "balanced to within a micrometer" bo staff on a student's skull.

 

Nok focused his attention, sensing deeper and deeper the depths of the Force surrounding the machines, drawing out details his eyes should have seen naturally had they not been blinded.

 

The white one looked to be better cared for at first glance, with a fresher paint job. However, that rust along the turbine didn't bode well. Any pilot or garage technician with an ounce of professionalism should have buffed that out long before it got that bad. Plus the rust indicated an excess of vapor possibly leaking from somewhere nearby, which was never something you wanted to see near a high-speed turbine. If the rust on the outside had never been addressed...

 

The red speeder looked a lot worse, with a peeling paint job that didn't look like it had been touched up since Alderaan went plural. On the other hand, Nok couldn't see any evidence of rust or damage on the machine, and the peeling paint might just be a symptom of some idiot picking a paint not designed for the jungle humidity.

 

Nok shook his head and grinned. The only choice was the obvious one. Always trust the experts. If there was one speeder better than the rest here, chances were veteran Valandil would have picked it for his own. Plus there was a lot to be said for riding with the only member of the group who knew the area...

 

With a barely perceptible swagger Nok put on for the prince to hide his discomfort at the ease at which the epicanthix used telekinesis with his lightsaber, he approached the black speeder.

 

"Think I'll ride with you for this first leg."

 

Nok silently chuckled at the thought of someone else having to ride with Snake as a passenger.

Edited by Guest

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The daughter of the Golden God watched her companions assemble in front of Valandil, and her keen amethyst eyes analysed each one, her spirit searching them for their strength in the force. The ghoulish Neimoidian elicited a twitch of a scowl from her beautiful face. Neimoidians always had made her skin crawl ever since she had first seen the species on Korriban. The race itself was untrustworthy, that had been made well known on Dathomir. A planet filled with humans who made themselves feel better by spreading falsities about races they never met. But Telperiën had met this type of Sith ally and she did not hesitate to discard him as a useless schemer who would not amount to much within the Sith Empire. So her purple eyes drifted from Nok and found Celora Karth, a girl of fourteen without much of a skill in the force and very likely to be left dead halfway through the journey. Telperiën, felt a pang of sorrow for the poor girl, and gave her a baneful smile. The girl reminded her of herself when she had been much younger, a strong desire to change the galaxy without much skill to do it. So the Heir of Ar-Pharazon stood from leaning on her spear and walked to the young girl and the snake behind her.

 

She placed a hand on the girls shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze before she extended her hand to the snake. An intriguing being and a good omen in Dathomiri society. She placed the palm of her hand before the snake and looked into its eyes, searching it for force presence and sentience. It had both and Telperiën straightened into a bow. Nightsisters had danced with such beasts in rituals and serpents could amplify the will of a nightsister in her chanting. Or at least that was what Telperiën had seen. So she acted, reaching out to the force to guide her. Her voice was harsh and rough, like gravel being poured onto a metal sheet as she spoke through the force.

 

Brother serpent will you join a Nightsister in this journey?

 

And without speaking again she turned and hefted her spear and bow into the back of the white speeder. She shrugged off her cape and cowl until she was only in a loose fitting scale maille tunic that did not restrict her movement. She was not overly familiar with driving speeders but had been taught by her adoptive father some time before.

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Most of the other members of this bizarre field trip had already paired up, leaving only the red speeder, the Sith Prince and a young Black Sun apprentice. Celora grimaced, she would much rather have traveled with the dangerous looking Sith-girl or even their enigmatic 'guide', but her habitiual shyness struck again, forcing her to wait until only one choice remained. A deeper frown crossed her face as she stared at the Sith she would have to ride with. The young human despised such beings, who vaunted their wealth before everyone, wrenched from the clutching hands of the less fortunate to feed the fat bellies of wealthy. This one was doubly a bully, being both rich and a Sith. She had seen his kind before when she was but a slave, standing aloof and haughty as their minions rushed about securing ever more wealth and power. Wealth she had never known, and likely never would. Now that she was free, she simply despised them.

 

With a sigh, Celora walked quickly over to the human Prince, reluctantly intereacting with the Sith that no doubt despised and laughed at her, considering her worthless simply for being poor. "Uh, I guess you're with me? The red speeder, doesn't look too bad, I guess? I'll check it out... real quick."

 

Her former owners had spent quite a bit of their ill-gotten funds betting on speeder races in the back alleys of Nar Shaddaa and in the great arenas of backworld desert planets. She had seen more than a few of the speeders up close and personal, and knew well that cosmetics determined little about the speeder. The Black Sun girl rapidly inspected the twin turbines and exhuast ports of the land speeder, feeling rather silly but definently unwilling to trust her life to a random speeder owned by a dangerous and untrustworthy character. Most of it appeared clear, and in better working function than the better painted white version, except for one large ball of gunk trapped in the left engine, blocking one of the main exhaust channels. Using her telekinesis, the only Force skill with which she had skill, Celora gradually pulled out the ball, stretching and twisting the loose materials to fit through the slats of the exhuast. Finally it slid out, and she dropped it unceremoniously on the ground, looking with disgust at the mixture of ground up plant matters, glue and animal droppings.

 

As she finished, she glanced up at the massive form of the largest of her unusual companions. She was only partially trained, but had learned (through much suffering) to feel the Force on her mind, and the presence of the Snake was like a Hutt made of rough sandpaper was being rubbed against her presence in the Force. Clearly, someone was out to get her, had pictured her as weakest in the party and was looking to exploit her. It was the only explanation for such blatant and, at the moment, pointless threats. Of course, she feared combat with the beast, not at all interested in fighting its immense form, but compared to what she had suffered over her years of slavery, a quick death beneath its massive jaws or crushed in its coils seemed almost a relief. Weak she might be, young and not fully trained, but she was the apprentice of Sheog, and a member of the Black Sun, and she would know show more fear.

 

You're not what I fear, Snake. Kriff off.

 

Another couple of strides saw her in the drivers seat of the old speeder. She didn't trust the driving of anyone but herself, and it outweighed her fear of being next to an unoccupied Sith. After all, she had but one primary goal with this mission. Learn and Survive.

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Anger.

 

Even as he was threatened by one of his travelling companions and audibly rebuffed, but feared by another, his travelling companion seemingly had all but forgotten his request, having gone to hop in the sleek black machine upon the seemingly self-imposed leader of their little expedition. He will pay for that, his mind churned as he stared daggers of ragged hunger into the back of his slimy green companion; reminding him of the hunger that lurked within Snake’s core, a reminder of their unearthly bond in the darkest bowels of the force. Remember. . .

 

Curiosity?

 

Even odder, however, was the fact that another of their companions was openly inviting him to join her in another of the speeders. At least that is what he supposed the small two-legged female meant. The words were as foreign to him as they had ever been; but the emotions of them did not radiate fear of his form.

 

Unusual. Who is this?

 

No, if anything, there was a coloring of respect, even as she bowed to him, exposing her own neck to him momentarily. His tongue raked her hair once in that moment, tasting her flesh and being. Very odd. . .

 

And then the moment was over. The small frail thing had turned and leapt into an empty speeder. If truth were told, the massive serpent knew next to nothing about the workings of such vehicles; but it was clearly implied that they were the desired means of transportation on their quest. Still, Snake would rather have travelled of his own mobility; but he knew better than to be left behind. Their master had desired their presence here and the unusual grouping was seeming more and more curious.

 

Silently the serpent followed Telperien to the speeder. The durasteel creaked beneath his coils as his scales scraped over the edge and he dropped into the passenger slot, coiling up on the floor boards, his lengthy form spilling upwards from the floorboards to the seat and wrapped about the head rest, his triangular head and unblinking bright red slotted eyes coming to rest just above the central control panel.

 

Who are you? he pressed outwards, feeling for the presence of the young Nightsister beside him. His forked tongue flashed out, licking the humid Onderonian air, tasting for sightless clues as to his travelling companion and even their mission ahead.

 

Snake was no rescuer; but whatever caused the screams of the scouts on the comms, would certainly be screaming themselves when they beheld the serpent striking at them from the darkness. While others here might have the dark side to toy with as children beat each other with sticks; Snake was offspring of the darkness. His body, fangs, and mind were all the weapons he needed and he knew it.

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Milenko chuckled beneath his breath as the Neimoidian scurried away after their leader spoke, choosing to perceive protection by taking his place in the speeder that the Supervisor had chosen. To be frank, Milenko held a hint of jealousy that the Neimoidian had chosen the stylish speeder to find himself carried in, as Milenko held a affection for the color black to begin with. But the moment for him to claim such a carriage had past, and he observed the pairing that followed.

 

The Slithese, as he noticed, grew temperamental at his comrade's nature. His gaze shifted toward the towering snake as if saying that he had been told so, Milenko's shoulder shrugging. Such was the nature of the weak, timid and seeking the strength of those who were stronger. Perhaps now the Sithese had finally saw the green creature for who he really was. As for Milenko, he already knew too well, the royal family having dealt with their kind on many occassions.

 

But as he continued to watch, he noticed the girl whom had remained quiet and complacent approach the Slithese, a ritualistic bow, a conversation that Milenko turned a blind thought to unfolding as he turned to meet the gaze of the young girl standing before him. He could see her own disdain of him written upon her face before she had spoken a single word, and yet, he only smiled at her in return as she spoke.

 

"Sounds wonderful." Milenko replied, bowing before her as was accustomed, yet before he could say another word or ask to aid her, she had already went about cleaning the speeder and confronting the Slithese. She may have appeared weak, but Milenko saw the spark she held in her eyes and in her actions, her ability to move past her fears despite them. Signs of the truly powerful indeed.

 

Approaching her as she fired up the speeder, he spoke as he climbed in, "I am Milenko Shiro of House Shiro and Apprentice to Master Sheog. Lovely day for a ride, isnt it?["/i], kicking his feet aboard the dash as he placed his fingers intertwined upon the back of his head in a reclined position. He could not tell why, but there was something interesting about her that the others did not display. Perhaps it was her age, or perhaps it was... no, never mind. Maybe it was something else. He could not tell just yet.

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  • "We're off then!"

 

The voice of Valandil was harsh, raspy to an extent, but strained when speaking over the roar of the engines. All members of the small crew had sorted themselves between the three Growlers and were now prepared to depart. The bastion on the mountain was particularly quiet this evening, and an eerie cloud rolled above them in the skies. This morning would not be forgiving with the shine of the sun. The darkness that crawled across Onderon would come alive early, and with an ocean of fog to follow.

 

"This bridge will carry our hides over Orahk Canyon. Speaking honestly, you may yet come across the odd soul looking to leap. Don't pay those cowards any mind, it happens here all the time." The last bit of his announcement to the team trailed off suspiciously, but the loud echo of the engines were part to blame. "Some are silly enough to think that jumping to their deaths will feed bloody old Orahk, and his rotten bones will rattle back to life." Valandil laughed awkwardly, worked a mouth full of phlegm and fixed his goggles before hoarking his spit to the side. The return of Orahk would mean ruin, but taller tales have been spun around these parts.

 

"..It is the dark magic in the air that folk need worrying about, beasts becoming nightmares I tell ya'." Valandil whispered the last part to his strange Neimoidian passenger, leaning in to covertly see if he smelled as bad as he looked. Such ugly creatures they were. Valandil pulled his gloves tighter over his dry skin, and pushed into the throttle. The dark Growler powered forward, and thrusted quickly down the length of the bridge. For the most part, the connecting bridge looked clear, as civilians did not bother with the crossing in the early hours of the forenoon. Passage would be relatively safe, despite the growing fog, as long as they kept themselves organized. The platform over Orahk Canyon would take these vehicles roughly ten minutes, before they reached the Wildlands. "Why are you here, Nok?" The question rolled out over the wind matter-of-factly, subduing the ungainly silence between them.

 

 

 

 

 

  • ==============================================================================================

 

 

Conditions

 


  • Environment: Morning, Fog (-)
    Celora: Mechanic Knowledge (+)
    Guide (+)
     
     
     

 

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Nok gazed at the pilot through his mask, through sightless eyes. He saw the guide in the Force, the threads of the man's life weaving into an impossibly complex pattern Nok could spend an eternity unraveling. The man's emotions were subtle, controlled, barely rippling the Force surrounding them.

 

Not scared. Not of the apprentices, not of me, not even of Snake...

 

He knows the land.

 

This man is useful.

 

Nok smiled under his mask, scar tissue tightening as his face contorted unseen.

 

"The easy, 'correct' answer is that I'm here because my master told me to be here." Nok paused before continuing. "If you want the truth though...I'm here because I'm curious. And ambitious. These wilds are strong in the Dark Side, and these beasts pose interesting prospects. Something I've noticed is that Sith aren't quick to use what they have. It might sound cliche' for a neimoidian to be thinking about profit and exploitation, but it's who I am. I hope to find something of use on this trip, something out in the wilderness. A beast, a resource...

 

Or a secret he added silently, turning his attention briefly to his companions on their own speeders. This trip would be instructive in more than one regard.

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  • SUBJUGATION OF THE
    B E A S T S
    _________

 

 

The first patrol had fallen radio silent, and the second that had searched for them had proven less qualified to endure the impudent and unpredictable wilderness that was the Ospien Frontier. The crew of speeders mobilized, and in the short distances traveled, a thunderous and heavyset monsoon had picked them apart. Piece by piece, the secondary patrol unit was torn to complete isolation while tormented by unhinging visibility. The intense pressures of wind and rain that threatened to sweep the soul from each of them, emerged without forewarning, and conquered their effort to unify. The collective was no more in a matter of seconds, they were spread across the uprooted ravines of the South, left for dead or to their own devices if survival was still an achievable option. Valandil Simmons was last witnessed with an oddly-shaped spear, puncturing through the right side of his neck and clear through his left shoulder joint, thick rope tying him viciously to what appeared to be an animistic totem pole. His mechanical limbs were torn out from their fleshly base, and an unreadable warning of symbol and word carved into his chest for all to see, which continued to be washed afresh with the downpour of the darkest clouds this part of the Frontier had ever seen. Reclamation of the mission was moot; there existed only blood, mud, and mystery between the distances traveled and what remained. Still, there was at least one who remained proud and immovable against the furious gale. Those green eyes bled with fury, a nightmarish mantle of black covered him whole, and burned with a single and intricate snow-white symbol emblazoned on his back.

 

 

 

  • The itsy-bitsy spider
    Climbed up the water spout
    Down came the rain
    And washed the spider out..

 

 

 

[a wild Exodus appears]

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  • "..I wonder what Mother would think of this."

 

The wild woodland vista fascinated him beyond reason, a reminder of the savage moon Dxun. There were leaves half the size of an adolescent Hutt, branches with as much girth as an X-Wing that twisted about hauntingly and a drum-roar of noise and life that silenced the unpredictable crunch of evergreen beneath the boot. It was a palette of muddied brown, sickly green, and a poisonous violet overgrowth that streaked the super condensed forest lines. The seed that hatched inside the land of Onderon acted far more aggressively than estimated, burrowing deeply with famined roots, devouring and mutating all life it could touch. The Heart of Rage flourished into a horrifying sapling, breathing profusely with iron lungs that filled the forest high and low with a blinding smog. Accelerating the upsurge of the terra-forming Seed was to be blamed on the dark clouds that let loose a ceaseless rainfall, nourishing the perversions that now ran rampant across these lands. Exodus could feel the steepened heaviness in the air, precipitation and moisture soaked his Sith decor while the miasma attempted to smother him. Looking forward, there was no real ingress to the forest, no hardened path carved out for the common traveler. There were however, small signs of a struggle impressed into the earth a few feet away. Before plunging into the thick, he pulled the fabric from his body and tossed it towards an outstretched brushwood. The downpour felt warm on his bare skin, biting with only a slight chill. His shouldered brassard and buckskin strappings were the only pieces of apparel covering his upper body, anything else would slow him down for what he knew was to come.

 

 

"Nabara Forest, how many souls will you capture for me?"

 

 

The Dark King moved closer, examining the disheveled terrain, noticing the uprooted turf and the fractions of metal left in the dirt. He leaned inwards with a naked finger, and brushed the alloy, reading the life of the inanimate object briefly. The taste of battle was far removed, too much time had passed, and the two separate search teams had been fruitless. Intel remained scarce, and competent assistance even more so. Then, a barely audible snap cracked through the sound of the heavy rain. Small winged creatures took immediate flight in a panic, bursting from the crest of the trees wildly. Exodus did not flinch, but the extraordinary synapses inside of his mind sharpened faster than what one could ever imagine. The assassin entered a supernatural focus, and the danger sense about him critically surveyed his immediate surrounding. Adrenaline seethed through him, an excitement for the unknown that was becoming foreign to him inside of the Spire.

 

A spear sprung loose with snap-neck ferocity, a weapon immediately resembling the one that had impaled Valandil to death, the colored shaft and the strange curvature of the blade tip. The weapon nosedived into the bed of dirt a meter from his footing, and with impressive punching power. "A warning." Exodus smiled invitingly, standing straight now, eyes locking into the obscure canopy. Malacoda Syn breathed deep, opening up his chest cavity, embracing the scent and thrill of battle. No small talk came while he tightened the strapping that covered his wrists, and being a man of little to say and much to show, he could appreciate this. He could not see who or what laid in wait, but he would break them with his bare hands and relish the subjugation of the beasts of Nabara Forest.

 

 

 

Roll Result: 2

 

  • 1 (Easy. 1-2 Beastmasters)
    2 (Normal. 3 Beastmasters)
    3 (Hard. 5-7 Beastmasters)
    4 (Challenging. Outnumbered)

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As Karys approached the Nabara Forest face, following in the wake of the Dark Lord and missing search party before him, he couldn't help but smile a little. Even as he trudged through the muddy forest floor, the constant rain pinging off his armour and robes, he was excited at the possibility of newfound combat...a chance to prove his worth to the Sith Empire after his previous failings. Some of which cost him far more than he intended, his robotic arm and leg were a constant reminder of that fact.

Following the signs left behind on the floor, the tracks left by the speeders, Karys moved forwards. Fearless of whatever or whoever lay in these woods. He lived for the thrill of battle and welcomed the chaos it brang. Soon enough and the massassi lost the trail, the speeder tracks disappearing into mud. Further along, he noted several jagged pieces of wrecked speeders...a sign something happened here that was not to the previous parties favour. This made him more cautious as he continued following the trail of what remained of the carnage towards something and someone he never thought he would have the chance to lay eyes upon.

Up ahead he could hear the sounds of fresh battle,  a sound he knew well. Before he was close he could feel whoever it was, was strong in the Force...the darkness seemed to gather around him like a thick fog. A familiar darkness. It became clear whoever it was, was a Sith.  

As such, Karys caution was well deserved. He knew never to underestimate any Sith, even if they were allies that didn't necessarily mean they were your friends. Deciding to see who it might be, a survivor perhaps? Karys approached the scene only to be met with equal hostility. A spear shot towards his feet, forcing Karys to take a step back as he sensed the projectile come towards him.

Another smile crept beneath the full face mask he wore. It appeared combat may well have found him. Calling out, he would not be denied his fill.

"Your warnings do nothing to disway me of my goal. Whoever you are. I eagerly accept the challenge and any who offer the chance to hone and test my skills."

Edited by Karys Narat iv-Adas

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“Lord Akheron.”

 

The Dark King surfaced from the shadows unheard, with armored hands far bloodier than they were. He approached slowly now, brutally cognizant of how loudly the warrior had declared himself before the wilderness. He must have underestimated where he was and how the heavy the toll of the dark side had nestled inside of these lands, but he would soon have his rude awakening. The regalia of this particular Sith was telling when it came to identifying who this was, and then his voice that echoed dangerously across Nabara Forest was the giveaway, The Massassi pure-blood was prideful, and the allusions were drawn all over his face, even if covered by full mask. The sharp and imbalanced bone structure of the youthful dark red marauder, spelled more than just his age, but the chiseling of an experienced brawler. This particular breed of a man was honed to a physical peak, similar to his own conditioning, undoubtedly differing in how the two actually maintained it however. You must be wary, wild Massassi. There are those that watch you as we speak, creatures born of the Nexus used to crush and warp their homes. They are angry, they are confused. Many have fell to them” Exodus laughed pathetically, ashamed of how weak the Sith had become. He knew when he had returned that there were assortments of recreants inside of the brotherhood, and when he had taken their power to an empirical state, more and more would fall to the wayside. Only the strongest would remain, and he would see to it himself that the frail and feeble were extinguished once and for good. This Massassi held promise. Exodus pulled the spear from the dirt, and tossed it to the red warrior. "I hope you have learned from Kuat.." A thin smile followed his words, glancing a stare at the mechanical limbs that subsidized the Massassi.

 

"... Here they come."

 

The Godbeasts of Onderon

by Chad G.

While the implications of Exodus’s seeding of Onderon with the Dark Side will be seen to some degree planetwide, none were more deeply affected than the Beast Lords. Some tribes feared the changes brought on by eating corrupted beast flesh, and other tribes simply tried to endure it as a new facet of survival. A handful however sought mastery over this newfound power. Considered mad by the other tribes, they had their greatest hunters, shamans, and chieftains gorge themselves upon the meat of Sithspawn. Most were driven mad and heavily mutated by the Dark Side taint, but a select few of profound spiritual strength mastered the power that they had consumed and became monsters with insight ascendant. 

The hunters became quadrupedal beasts with fangs that could tear through durasteel and hardened skin that was as resilient as heavy armor, their bodies growing to the size of a landspeeder. The shamans and shamanesses, trained in the path of walking between two worlds, became bestial hybrids, able to evolve their own bodies to adopt the traits of the beasts they had eaten. The chieftains found a higher truth and became as dragons. 

While many understandably mistake the Godbeasts as warriors, their animal cunning and preference for stalking prey makes the assassin arts of highest appeal to them. The Godbeasts that spiritually guide their tribes also use the illusive powers to craft powerful internal journeys of the mind and to walk among their tribe unseen.

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Karys facial jowls quivered slightly when the voice of  the mysterious Sith he had felt before finally revealed themselves. Being this close, he could feel the Darkness surround and encompass the apparently human male much more prominently...in fact it was almost intoxicating and bore testament to the power of the one who controlled it. Few ever got the Masassi's attention but this particular individual seemed to do just that. 

He became rather curious, who was this man that felt similar to the old lords back home? A feeling reminiscent of the Darkness that often clung to the tombs in the valley's on Korriban. He finally got a good look at the man when he threw the spear towards Karys. Karys noted that the strange man had elected to wear not much other than some type of shouldered brassard and buckskin strappings that covered his upper body. Which was telling of his confidence in his abilities.

Karys also became aware that whoever he was, this man was well informed...even so far as to know how he got his prosthetics. This placed him at a distict disadvantage,  in that this man knew much of him and yet he knew nothing of him. He would seek to change that during the course of the bout between men and beasts. 

Karys chuckled a little at the comments, speaking calmly before his more serious nature came to the front as he considered the man's other words. He offered a quick bow of the head even as he took the spear.

"So you decided to show yourself, I was beginning to wonder who it was hiding nearby and if you would ever show yourself. I could feel you but not see you, a rare thing indeed. It is a credit to your skills. As to your advice, if what you say of these creatures is true perhaps we can use their anger and confusion against them to our advantage...afterall someone desperate is far more likely to do something stupid, and act irrationally wouldn't you agree? Although that also has it's downside but I think in this case it's worth the risk."

Moments later and the man spoke again,  this time informing Karys that company was on it's way, and it wasn't friendly. 

"As to Kuat, I believe I have. It was a lesson hard learnt, my arrogance...my overconfidence cost me dearly against that droid monstrosity. I shall try not to make that same mistake. Korriban and my trip to Mustafar thereafter has taught me much I was unaware of before. Where before my path was unclear now I believe I have started the way towards bettering myself. And after I find out what went on down here, I shall show the Empire what I am truly capable of free of those chains. But first these creatures, it is a worthy challenge."  

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The words of the Massassi were hard to discern over the thrashing climate, rain and wind pounding terrain ceaselessly, and a film of smog that made it even harder to see. Darkness settled in, and the remnants of dawn bled from the black skies. A howling from all angles shrieked loudly, unapparent where the calls originated from. They were hungry, they were cries more alarming than the fierce atmosphere all around them, more intimidating than any creature one could call to mind. Erupting from the treelines, four enormous bestial shapes lunged with extraordinary speed. The four dashed across the field with a predatorial acuteness, all converging towards the loud and outspoken warrior Sith. 

Their bodies were a reflection of raw power, skin as hard as steel and a frame broadened with the power of the dark side. Each of them, easily comparable in sheer length to a stalwart speeder, covered from head to toe in dark bristles of hair. Monstrosities was what they were, mountainous bodies but with a swiftness that betrayed their brutish physical appearance. Their natural weapons were thick and sharpened enough to puncture armor of all kind, teeth and talons long and protruding. As they trudged heavily into the wet earth, the mud violently shifted beneath them. They were malformed hounds, salivating uncontrollably as they charged towards their mark. They carried no distinct formation, none that was obvious first-hand anyways, but each of them collaboratively rounded towards the Sith Warrior. Before he knew it, the four of them pounced towards him, all from different inclines, ready to tear him to shreds.
 

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Anzat blood ran tenaciously through him. Ravenous power was not unknown to his kind, even without the favor of the Force. If one were to chance upon his location, then it would be said that he willed it so. Few were able to track the Anzati people, and fewer would have success with the Dark King of the Sith, for he was no mere exception to their phenomenal peculiarities. A natural biorhythm could not be found in this assassin, or the Anzati as it were, and his aptitude for concealment immeasurably exceeded those of his peers. Lord Exodus was a whisper; the shadow of a phantom in the darkest of hours, a nightmare to the dissenters of the Sith. The unsuspecting Sith Lord Karys was able to distinguish the darkness that trickled from the Spider, only because that was the bait and beacon he had laid for those brave enough to seek it.  But of course, this Massassi was not aware of who it was he now stood next too. 


“Desperation does not equal irrationality. Quiet your mind, Lord of Wrath.

Your advantage does not lay in thought, warrior.

Unleash and live longer than those that fell here before you. Survive by any means.”


The Neimoidian, the Snake and the Prince had fallen hard and quickly. The Golden Dathomiri and the hunter from Black Sun were lost, but not quite erased from this world. This meant that Karys proved far more resilient than the rest, and would soon be challenged to outlive and evolve in a pinch.  And that pinch was now. Reality wheeled back to the forefront with extreme haste, four ghastly creatures rounded from the treelines and mounted an incredibly explosive offensive. Exodus traced their movements, as erratic as they were, there were patterns to be read. The Spider adjusted his footwork, noticing that none of the four were focusing their feral attention on him, each of them voraciously rushing towards Karys instead. The heavy rain and smog did little to blanket his positioning, so he suspected that their intent was to eradicate their opposition one after the other, a small degree of efficiency between beasts. Exodus smiled, curious as to what Lord Akheron would do.  

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