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  2. “Ya, better than anything we have so far…” Fate agreed as she made her way with the Zabrack. “I don’t recall any Jedi temples on Nar Shaddaa, do you? Maybe these cultists belonged to some obscure local practice, and it just got way too out of hand.” Fate began to theorize, not really expecting an answer. At this point, she was just talking because she was happy to have the ability to speak again. “Ah, that can’t be good…” Fate noted the incoming green lighting bolts. She felt the Force begin to tighten around her stomach, a clear indication of the danger was incoming. Not that she needed the Force to tell the danger. The unnatural green color of the lightning was a solid indicator all by itself, and her little knowledge of irradiation was enough to know that any weather after an apocalyptic event was not good. “Uh, think think, we can’t stay above ground…” Fate said out loud, starting to panic inside. “ or at least we can’t stay outside. If we find some cover, maybe we can…” Fate’s foot hit something. She gave a curse and pulled her foot back, the piece of metal from an advertising sign stubbing her toe greatly. “Stupid kriffing piece of-” Fate started to curse as she hopped on one foot, grasping her hurt foot. However, after a few hops, she lost her balance and began to fall down a nearby stairwell. “Kriff!” Fate exclaimed as she tumbled down, bashing into each wall once while continually rolling like some poor excuse of a stuntman. To her credit, she rolled quite well, not stopping until she hit the bottom. Unfortunately for her, she landed face first, smashing her recently fixed vocoder mask into the pavement at the bottom. Sparks began to leap as the mask began to emit a high-pitched squeal. Once Fate regained her senses and realized that the noise was not just inside her ears, she grabbed at the mask frantically. No longer able to speak, her eyes widened with panic. No no no no no!!! Not again!!! Fate pulled the mask and smacked it a few times, causing the wiring inside the smashed thing to short out ending the endless screech. After a few moments of reexamining the device, she gave a silent roar and smashed a closed into the wall, hardened knuckles cracking the concrete. After another two more strikes, Fate finally stopped and sat in utter defeat. It was pointless. The mask was completely smashed and broken. No amount of simple wiring would fix it this time. She would need more complex tools that would be impossible to find in this irradiated city. A sudden surge of anger filled up the Anomid as she reexamined the mask again. Without thinking, she threw the mask into the darkness further ahead. The Force around her became taught, sending the mask flying with unprecedented power. In the distance, she could hear the mask strike a wall and shatter into countless pieces. Fate gave a dejected groan and leaned backwards, palms over her eyes. It was pointless to be angry, but she didn’t know what else to do. Her open palms turned to fists as the Anomid began to beat her head softly. She was going to die on this stupid planet, doomed to never become a jedi, and forsaken to a life of eternal silence with a idiotic Zabrack and his pet bird. Finally, Fate brought her legs in and crossed her arms over them. Holding back a tear, she glanced around. The place she was in looked like some kind of subway tunnel entrance, but with the pure darkness, it was hard to see further than a couple meters. Perhaps the two could make their way using the subway tunnel, but with the luck she was having, Fate was doubting it.
  3. Today
  4. Akheron listened to the words of Darth Calypso. As she spoke of her plans for the Sith before proclaiming herself the new Dark Lord, making more promises. He agreed with much of what she spoke, and then he heard his apprentice. But not before feeling his intense Envy. And with it his plan was undone, for Darth Akheron was no fool, he would not be so easily deceived or goaded into a challenge. For he had experienced a lifetime of betrayal, he was a Master of Darkness. He was Sith. He desired to see his power. To see the Lord of Wrath and Rage. He would have it, although perhaps he would live to regret that decision, for he had provoked a great beast, one that if tampered with would come at a great price. For to call Akheron's actions cowardice and question his commitment was to invoke consequences. He would not tolerate such disobedience from his apprentice, especially not in front of others and the Dark Lord. Besides he required no proof, at least for his apprentice. He was beyond him, it was he who was required to prove himself worthy. To prove he was worth the effort of having been chosen. Besides he had proven himself, or so he thought. He had Sacrificed. Through blood and Sith trial by fire. Who was his apprentice to question his motives, his beliefs. And require him to prove himself. Only the Darkness and Fanged God could demand it, he had no such right. He would learn his place yet again. He continued to listen, finding some truth to his words, approving of his compliments, and yet it could not undo what was to come. "Oh my apprentice, you are good and have learnt, I give you that. But did you really think you could deceive me? That you could hide your Envy from me, your plans. That you could goad me into a challenge? I am a Master of Darkness. I will not be so easily tricked into your games, however I give you credit for having the audacity to try despite your failure to understand the gravity of the consequences of your actions. For in provoking the beast, in questioning my Sith beliefs, in implying I am a coward and questioning my commitment you have invited the Lord of Wrath and Rage upon yourself. You forget your place my apprentice." Akheron quickly spread his thoughts into the Darkness, spreading his awareness outwards until he touched the Shard within the droid that housed Solus. And he began to apply pressure, crushing upon the Shard...hoping to mark him. A permanent, painful reminder...another lesson learnt. Around him lightning began to crackle, a outward affect of a intense Wrath and Rage towards his wayward apprentice. "Your words may be true, and I respect the compliment, however I shall decide when and if to challenge. Not you. I have no desire for leadership or to challenge her, I keep my word. I shall give her the chance to prove she is different, to keep her promises. If she fails to live up to that, then I shall challenge. Not before, besides you may think me ready but I know I am not. Question my beliefs, my commitment or call me a coward...ask me to prove myself again my apprentice and you will not live to regret it. For you forget. It was I who chose YOU. That you were chosen by me. I am your Master, you are my Apprentice. I not required to prove anything to you, but you have much yet to prove to me. You wanted the Lord of Wrath and Rage, to witness my power. You got what you wished for my apprentice. Never question me again unless it is permitted understood?" Turning to face Dictum, he spoke. "I am sorry about that, my apprentice is strong but he is Envious. As with all in the folly of youth, he oversteps his bounds sometimes and needs reminding of his place among the order of things." It was in that moment, Akheron felt the change. The temperature dropped as the strange Mandalorian woman he had suspected of being Krath Inmortos turned out to be exactly as he thought. The necromancer had returned. And even more than that, he did something unexpected, he challenged the newly self-proclaimed Dark Lady himself. Getting his hands dirty for once, which amused the Master Sith Warrior. And earnt a bit more respect, for he did not think he would ever expose himself like that. To challenge for leadership, it just didn't seem his style. Looking beside him, it appeared Dictum wanted to also challenge. His lightsaber was ignited. Akheron knew things were about to get very interesting. All eventually became clear. It was a trial, one only for the Dark Lord. And for Inmortos. And so Akheron made room, stepping aside and motioning his apprentice do the same, to observe and see that the Darkness and Fanged God had it's own plan. That he was correct in not being chosen for the task currently.
  5. Yesterday
  6. The Mandalorian Inmortos amalgamation stood listening to the newly proclaimed Dark Lord on high. It was the same rallying speech given a thousand times by a thousand different would be lords; and yet, a smile played across the woman’s face, for she knew. She knew. Inmortos knew. This war was not over. It had never been over. They were just the next cog in the machine of eternal damnation. They would do their part and then they would fall away, forgotten chaff all but they who struck their sigil upon eternity. All, but eternity, those bound by immortality. All but Inmortos, the god-king of death itself. And yet that was what was missing as @Darth Calypso pontificated from on high. She claimed a throne of blood. Inmortos had been there since her rebirth. She had no claim to this throne, this world, these people. She spoke of the weakness of words, but her claim was only just that: words. When she had been reborn, she had shed no blood. @Karys Narat iv-Adas had shed blood. @Solus had spilled blood. Inmortos had spilled blood. The trio summoned to her crypt to bring forth she that stood now before them. But she, the self-proclaimed Lord of the Sith, had not cemented her claim in blood. The harbingers of her return, lords @Mavanger and @Darth Nyrys and @Exodus had carved the path for her, a path of destruction, of blood, marred on the force their feeble marks upon the eternal scroll. And so he listened, his eyes scanning the feeble few who remained loyal to their ancient right, the legions of undead that now stood ready to ‘serve’ Calypso; the undead of Inmortos’ eternal plan. None stepped forward to fulfill the ancient bond. None dared throw themselves at the mercy of the dark side to do what need done. The shard had merit, Inmortos could feel it. He would still adorn the god-king’s saber some day; so was his destiny. And as Calypso and her suckling apprentice leapt to the ground, she called forth a challenge. The crowd rustled and none dared move, none but . . . Bernon ( @Thought Bomb ) the necromancer’s newfound apprentice. Inmortos could sense the turmoil in him, raw and untamed. He would be shaped into a great cleaver of darkness. In time. For now, he must be brought to heel. As the heavily armored warrior knelt and spoke, he produced the saber of Inmortos for all to see. Surely Akheron and the saber crystal Solus would know of Inmortos new form; his ambiguity, a powerful wraith on the wind betrayed into one body, the body of a slave. The Mandalorian’s eyes rolled back painfully in her skull as the ire of Inmortos was aroused; and yet, a smile played across her face. To disobey, an eternal sin; and yet, the courage to do so so openly. It would be acknowledged as well. Such an act would need punished. To disobey publicly, one must right the wrong equally. To kill this vessel of sin; however, would be premature and would reveal a weakness of the god-king. Stepping forward, the gauntleted hand of the Inmortos-bound woman, brushed Bernon’s shoulder gently. With her free hand, she reached up to remove her T-visored helm. She tossed it aside, her face ravaged by the claws of her own fingernails, blood caked and cracked as it oozed between the cracked scabs mingled with the ichor of pure darkness, her eyes white and bloodshot, their pupils bound in pain backwards in her skull until the rage of Inmortos was sated, the tiara of impermeable soulfrost bound to her skull and a symbol of Inmortos claim to the body and to his throne world Aaris III, as ashen and desolate as it now was. “My apprentice,” she hissed as she raised her hand and one by one tugged at the fingers of her armored gloves, dropping them to the ground. “You have done as I instructed.” Her icy white hand gingerly played across the intricate ultrachrome of the hilt in his hands as the whispers of her spirits within manifest curling up the Mandalorian’s arm like snakes return to their master. She grasped the hilt, her knuckles whitening even more if such a thing was possible. With hilt-clenched fist she backhanded her apprentice with a feeble blow that radiated upon the force in a surge of rage to knock him back. Stepping forward, her bloodshot eyes rolled back to behold the human, “defy me again and your punishment shall be eternal!” Steppibg forward, she began to strip the cumbersome Mandalorian armor that had been the facade of the god that now possessed her body. Each piece fell to the ground as she walked along the assembled Sith and their armies. “You claim a throne of naught but words,” she dropped another piece of armor with a thud in the snow that was beginning to accumulate beneath their feet. “The ancient blood rights remain unfulfilled.” The woman turned, her eyes flashing a wicked deathly yellow as they locked for a moment with the mechanized eyes of Solus relaying a simple message, one even he could attain. ‘Should the apprentice of Inmortos interfere, destroy him’ ”You claim to be a god, to rule the chaos of the Sith and yet,” they gestured to the assembled Mandalorians under @saberforce, “was it not they who unfurled your royal carpet in blood? Was it not we three,” she gestured to Akheron and Solus, “who released you from your mortal bonds? Did not the Sith who scourged worlds, scarred the force, and languished in life pave the way for you to awaken from your blissful slumber?” Reaching the end of those assembled, Inmortos and his host turned to walk back towards the middle of the open area betwixt pyramid and assembled. “You claim a throne already claimed.” They came to a stop directly in front of Calypso and perhaps twenty-five yards back. The dark echoing voice of the god king boomed on the winds as they turned cruel and cold, it’s cold bite clawing at metal and flesh. “You claim the throne of an imposter, of an exiled spider who may yet rule from afar; and yet, you have shed no blood for it. As emissary of the dark empire, master of death, god-king of the damned, and one who has seen eternity and not slept idly by, I invite you; prove yourself worthy.” Cold air billowed from the Krath in rolling clouds of icy fog mingling with the wind and untouched by it’s growing howl, mixing with the snow to shroud the black-body suit clad frozen acolyte (possessed body). The winds continued to plummet the temperature and without a word, Inmortos hung his hilt on his belt, the wind itself turning as to his will to drive at the self-appointed queen, to drive her back with a headwind, the edge of the storm. Biting her lip in concentration, blood and ichor spilled forth as the host of Inmortos’ will exhaled deeply through her nose like a reek preparing to charge. Even possessed as she was, as the cold tendrils of death played about her soul, she was still fresh, a child of Mandalore born and bred for battle. And then they struck, as she pushed the last remnants of air from her lungs, Inmortos struck at the fear that encircle her soul and she inhaled. A deep startled gasp that crystallized the air, the force, as she went to draw air into her lungs and by it suck all of the heat and warmth, the powers and energies of the battlefield away to dissipate them into frozen unending stillness. Cold and frigid darkness fell over the battlefield as the winds blew and an unnatural permawinter drew upon the dark forces that bound this world together. All who were there would bear witness to the death storm of eternal stillness unleashed by the god-king and no one would walk away untouched by his bitter touch. In the midst of it all stood Inmortos, his challenge apparent as the forces of eternal damnation came at his beck and call. CALYPSO V INMORTOS ((1))
  7. Kirlocca and Tarvo began to slowly venture into the city, the rain coming down made his cloak damp rather quickly despite the lack of a heavy downfall. They passed a few spots here and there that seemed rather busy, but decided to keep moving. Tarvo kept taking looks at the Jedi Master as if he was expecting for the group to slow down and enter one of the establishments they had passed. As the two passed by two more, Tarvo couldn't hold it in any longer. "We came here based upon a suspicion or gut feeling you had... But we seem to be walking aimlessly...?" Kirlocca slowed the two down before turning to face the officer. << Never enter the more crowded and populated areas. You don't hear things as well, nor are people as talkative as the smaller shops. Those are where the alcohol flows more freely and lips become far more revealing. >> Tarvo let out a sigh, but one of understanding. He realized that the Wookiee was looking for information, and only such information would come from a cantina that couldn't afford bouncers, so patrons got drunk more quicker than those at more crowded areas. "So maybe that one over there?" The officer pointed to a very run down looking shop, where a local was passed out to the side of the door. Kirlocca gave a nod and lead the other towards the cantina. Upon entering, the aroma of heavy alcohol was almost enough to get the most basic person drunk. The Wookiee just stood in the door frame for a moment before fully walking in and finding a booth to sit at. When both sat down, the Jedi Master and Tarvo ordered drinks and looked around. Tarvo leaned in. "So what now?" << We wait and enjoy our drinks until we hear something. >>
  8. Beck kept his hands clasped behind his back as he walked through the city with Tor Blatheuld and her crew as they showed off the city. Much of the grand design was almost fully rebuilt since the Mandalorians of Crusaders had almost burnt it to the ground on their own personal rampage of the galaxy. While short lived, the damage caused by them was strong enough to still feel the impacts. Part of the Admiral felt like during the height of his commando career under Emperor Denton, he would have torn the city further down than the what the Crusaders did. Tor was elaborating on the rework of the art district area for the smaller crew of Imperium Alliance as they toured the city. "As you can see, it has already generated some interest with the locals, but we'd love to attract more off planet artists to come a contribute. But majority feel as if the city is still unsafe from the last invasion." Beck narrowed his eyes as he looked over two local shops that held artwork of their own on the outside that was almost as outlandish as what could be found inside. "Weren't the Jedi and others just here a few months back? Or was that only a basic cleanup?" Tor turned and offered up a smile that suggested she didn't really want to respond to the question directly. "There are some who would rather have a different display of strength of cleanup. Local cleanup is important, far more so than any outsider involvement. Revenue is the main draw of outsiders and Jedi tend not to bring such tag with them." Beck raised both eyebrows in acknowledgement of the statement. He found it to be very true. Juhn Chilcaot however did not fully agree, and spoke up. "Their presence alone helps bring forth a sense of peace sometimes. Revenue is for the greedy alone." Beck turned and stopped the small tour, letting Tor know where Beck stood on things. "Jedi are not political. Their involvement in anything is strictly peacekeeping. Their time of warriors has come to an end. They have not been relevant to the whole galaxy in almost seven years. They're dying off. What Chandrila needs is supplies and resources that help attract others." Beck turned around and gave a small bow to Tor. "I also heard that there is a Gala coming up. Would it help or hinder the overall situation for the Imperium Alliance to show up?" He paused and waited upon Tor's response. He knew that the younger officer would be excited for the chance to stir up the political scene on the planet, and he himself would absolutely hate it. But the very fact that the young boy might learn what is truly driving the galaxy by them going would be a benefit to him. Plus, he didn't truly want to return to the incompetent crew at the War College. Tor gave a smile. "Why yes we are. It's a Gala for everyone about to invest heavily the project areas to really build Hanna City back up into a talking point around the galaxy. Since you will be providing us with a hub for trading and receiving goods from the core worlds again, you are apart of the bill that is coming to the senate floor soon!" Beck gave another bow as he offered her a smile. "We look forward to being there." Tor gave a smile of her own in return and continued the tour. As she turned away, Beck's face dropped the smile and revealed an annoyed face. He hated what he was about to do, but knew it was needed. Hopefully everything would work out and he could return to something he was more comfortable doing soon.
  9. Last week
  10. There was something inherently off putting about the Miraluka. It was not some irritation or disgust, but the certain reality of not being able to see where their gaze landed, which gave them that special air of superiority that their kind were well known for. Most had been enticed into the arms of the Jedi order, their number remaining very small and their enclaves shrinking all the more as time finished the job the Sith had tried to accomplish four thousand years before. The rigours and expense of jedi life draining away potential that could have been used to save a species all the more in need of refreshment. How one had been enticed into the arms of the Imperial Remnant, Namari would never know. Perhaps it was a sign of that great schism that had taken place at the resurgence of the Sith on the outer rim, where many Jedi had left the order to follow Raven Zinthos in her personal crusade. The age was right, maybe she had been an apprentice at the time? Namari could not tell, but she could feel a gladness in her own heart at the sign of one of the great Jedi aligned species of the galaxy wearing the colours of the Remnant. It spoke both to the vitality of the new Knightly order, and the bitter stagnation of the old. High towers of ivory had tumbled and fallen, both on Naboo and in the Jedi Enclaves. Where now were the heroes of peace? Her heart yearned for the long series of holoshorts she had consumed in her young childhood. Names she had memorized in the diplomatic training. Where now lay the grave of Trevelian? Of Starlisk and Raikanda? Buried in the ruins of their fallen temple. Their ashes joining those countless trillions as Hesperidium fell. Where now the great ladies of the Jedi? Xae-Lin, Jaina Jade, and Skye? Lost in the storms of Onderon as the hopes of the Galactic Alliance fell around them. Other names also came over her as her memories filtered through long forgotten memories- The Queen blinked as the Miraluka spoke to her. She could feel a blush rise quickly to her pale cheeks and she grinned shyly. There was nothing to be lost in speaking openly. “I am afraid there will be a lot of work ahead of us all before my people can consider themselves free. Many lessons to be learned, and a strong hand to guide them. I fear I might not have such a will to see it through.”
  11. As Lady Calypso began to speak, her power roared not only across the landscape and the Force, but vibrated within his very soul as Dictum stood amongst the gather masses with a smirk still adorning his face. This world, this Order, it was all so new to him and it was as exotic as it was enthralling. He couldn't help but be carried away in its ecstasy and find himself captivated. The last time he felt this way... well, he claimed his Lordship from his fallen Master. The clash of two crimson blades sparkled against the moonlit sky as the two played each against the other upon the catwalk they positioned themselves. Sweat beaded across their foreheads as their skills were tested to their maximum. And then, the blades slipped, slicing one side of the catwalk loose and the two dangling above the abandoned city below. Both smirked and his Master's words echoed within Dictum's mind. It was kill or be killed... no other path to be taken. This was the way of the Sith... the way of the Darkside. Back to reality, Calypso's convictions and emotions rolled across her words, blossoming his own within himself as his blood boiled with strife and despair. For the first time since he had joined the others, he felt her call as the Tsis had mentioned. And in that moment, he ached a beautiful pain. It was a dance of death across the battlefield his Master had chosen for his final trial, and Dictum had consummated his soul to rising the victor. Even despite their power differences, Dictum held true to his word that he would surpass Darth Sanguine in every way. He would not go quietly. For his destiny was his own, solely to be written by his hand and never another's. And while crimson blades lay upon earthen soil hundreds of feet below, the Force was still his to beacon." Shifting his gaze across the gathered masses, Dictum watched attentively to those that stood there in awe, questions plaguing his mind as Lady Calypso's words came to a dead silence and her message closed. She was a Master of the Darkness, a devout of her self in every aspect. She had climbed not just out of death's reach, but beyond her own mortal station. Her destiny was her own and she had grasped it with both hands. They were her's to devour, and yet, the silence was near deafening. The crimson blade slid deep into Sanguine's heart as his yellowed eyes stared upward toward the veil that covered Dictum's face, his hand grasping for his Apprentice's throat as his flesh and skin cooked from the inside out. Deactivating the blade, Dictum thrust his hand into the broiling wound and grasped at the pierced heart, removing it from its confines. As his Master took his last breath and his strength left him, Dictum grinned devilishly before taking a bite of the scalding heart. Stepping forward first, Dictum smiled that same devilishly grin as his lightsaber activated, it's crimson hue enlightening his form. If the others wouldn't, then it would be left up to Dictum to respond to her request. "I may be new, a mere Lord beneath a Master of the Darkness, but let me be the first to welcome you."
  12. Sitting in the main hold of the Supremacy, she stared at the holodisplay of Thalassia and all of its glory. Her mind raced about the best options to gain better advantage. She didn’t even bother to listen to some of the banter going back and forth between Fluanern and Akor’ketez. Ve stood behind her as the ship was still traveling through hyperspace towards Chandrila, so there was no need for him to watch over the cockpit. The Yarkora kept his stance calm, which helped Zalis focus a bit. It was only when Fluanern spoke on utilizing some of their own resources that the Queen of Vice lifted her head. “I mean Graak has made it fairly clear that he doesn’t like the avenues of aggressive movement we as Black Sun are taking, and Kivro is just an idiot.” She turned from looking at Akor’ketez to Zalis to finish up her thought. “He’s going to get himself killed sooner rather than later.” The comment had Zalis put her own head down again as she re-looked over Thalassia to process what was being put forth by her team. Without looking up herself, she slowly responded to the comments. "... Kivro is a smart enough to not start a war. Only the Hutt family has enough to make a full take over outside of us. Pykes and Crimson Dawn together... Maybe... But still doubtful. They have a play in mind..." She looked up finally after musing over some options. "Akor'ketez, now is a good time to use Delta Contingency. Maybe not the best play, but the panic afterwards may help us." She turned to look at Fluanern. "Connect with Graak and Bakkull the Hutt, invite them to Thalassia. I may as well make a play myself if I can." She then stood up and straighten her dress that she was wearing. "I have to finish my trip to Chandrila before anything else can happen. I will let you both know how it turns out. Until our next meeting... Oh- Fluanern, activate Remo protocol. I want it in motion by the time I land. Have fun." She then cut the transmission and turned to Ve and gave a slight smile. "And now we get to wine and dine with the finest of Chandrila."
  13. Tros watched from a distance, letting the Sith take to front seat of the show that what could only be explained as a show of power and declaration as the new seat of power. He was unfazed by much of what had transpired, as it meant little to him. Some of the texts comms that came through his own HUD offered up strong discussions and points of interest for everyone present. However, Kot'dral sent a personal one declaring that it sounded like they were not needed here. To which it was true. The Sith here seemed more intent on building up their own armies for the coming wrath they would unleash upon the galaxy. While it didn't mean they would break off from the Sith, it did mean that he was maybe less tied down to fuel his own people into two wars and could focus on his own coming war. Quietly, on a private voice channel, he responded to Kot'dral. "Yes, they are indeed focused internally. Which isn't a bad thing. We still have nothing to prove here, but lingering could gain us some more information. Our forces can withdraw back to Almas after this is all over. From there, we can prepare for our own war path emergence." After he finished, he slowly moved to gain a better view of the entire area, and every so often placing his hands upon his two Westar 75 Heavy Blaster pistols to make sure they were still at his side. He didn't feel like getting into a challenge with any Sith today, nor did it feel like the time to unveil himself to the Sith as Mand'alor. So he choose to wait in the shadows.
  14. Gronn narrowed his eyes behind his buy'ce. The man before him felt confusing to him, as he was not whom he expected. Not at all like what he was made out to be from every holofeed he had ever seen on the man. He felt like something new to him, almost like a restart, to which he even hinted at as he spoke. HIs own mind raced n what they should do as he locked eyes from behind his buy'ce on Delta. After a moment passed, he spoke loudly to Kyr. "Disarm and come down here." Without any further hesitation, he put his weapon away and took off his buy'ce, revealing the short blonde hair, scar tattered face. His dark blue eyes held a piercing glaze to them as he locked them on Delta. "Much of Mandalorian space has been war torn and left to rot after the aruetiise went to war against us here. The Mand'alor known as Fett left places like this to rebuild on their own. Many consider out home worlds to be cursed, unable to make it home again." Gronn broke eye contact with Delta and instead looked over the homestead, which was indeed in bad shape. "While not our purpose in coming here, I feel it lines up with what Mandalore the Zealous wants for our people..." Even as he finished, Kyr walked up, sniper riffle still at his side, but not hold it in a fashion that showed he would use it anytime soon. He kept his buy'ce on and looked over the situation upon arrival. "How does helping line up with the creed?" Gronn didn't even look at the younger Mandalorian. The younger lad still wanted to be a Zealot. He would have to learn to be a damn Pathfinder. "Strength is life, Honor is life, Loyalty is life. We show our strength by helping someone build in an area that is potentially unsustainable. We honor the journey and who he is. We are loyal to any Mandalorian, even if they didn't always walk our path." Gronn took a step towards Delta and extended his hand towards the man. "We can help you build this place up, bring it up to a standard worthy of any Mandalorian to call home." buy'ce : Helmet aruetiise : Outsiders Mand'alor : Sole Ruler
  15. Basi


    Basi Listened and indeed handed over the hilt to @Leena Kil. His eyes on her every last move and gesture. Nodding his head as she spoke about Katas and the beauty of martial ways and the way of the blade in particular. Watching in awe as Leena went through the sweeping movements and the like. "Yes the blade is a beautiful and dangerous thing. The movements elegant and potentially lethal. Though when used to channel you're energies a most effective way to calm the mind." Basi says with a smile reminiscing while still observing and paying attention. The Togruta laughs at the mention of weird rituals and keeping them he nods though he makes no mention of if he had one or not and what it may or may not be. Though the mention of taking comfort in practicing the martial skills he nods his head. "You're right master most ancient martial arts are the same or at the very least have a common background. Ours isnt so different from the Sarlacc." Basi says with a nod of his head as he takes the saber hilt back. "Ours just goes with a more high guard style!" He says excitedly before taking a breath calming and centering himself he let's go and the Togruta let's the force guide his movements the best he can. He starts to mimick the low guard Leena showed him but his right hand brings that hilt up over his head angled sideways as his body turns to face the direction of the /tip/ of the blade. Slowly he does his best to mimic her movements getting most of them accurate or relatively close to it always returning to that high guard. Basi can feel the connection his master forged with him. And through that she can feel just how calm, focused and clear his mind is. That if nothing else this...this was his place of balance and calm...his Zen as it were.
  16. Leena stopped walking. She smiled as her new apprentice regurgitated back her own words with his own interpretation. When he spoke about his military career in brief she nodded. Extending her hand as @Basi revealed the weapon, she waited for him to hand it to her. Taking the broken hilt in hand, Leena turned it over looking at it. It was clearly broken; but it would still do. Stepping back from Basi she spoke as she settled into a solid fighting stance notable from Form I, the blade held ready at her waist. “The Jedi too have an entire culture of combat. The beauty of the blade, the Dulon, regimens, katas, and velocities, all of it. While my study of the way of the blade is limited, I will show you the basics of the first and most ancient forms of lightsaber combat, The Way of the Sarlacc.” Leena began to step her way through the different wild and raw sweeps to the different body zones, explaining them each as she moved, her face serious as she worked her way through the entire basic regiment of Shii-cho. “If your father and mother taught you the ancient ways of combat from your people, I would guess that it has similarities to the basics of many other martial arts, even that of the first Jedi. Sticks evolved into swords and clubs, bladed instruments that continued to evolve within the societies they were a part of until finally the lightsaber was born. Like the ancient sarlacc spawned across ten thousand worlds, the origins of Shii-Cho are shrouded in mystery. What is not are the zones of attack, basic blocks, sweeping blade movements to parry and disarm a multitude of opponents,” Leena slowed as she spun the hilt around to hand it back to Basi. “I’ve patched up enough coffin jockeys in my time to know you each have some weird rituals,” she teased with a glimmer in her eye using the term for TIE pilots. “Every time you’ve gotta climb the ladder left foot first or kiss a picture of your girl before going into combat or surgery. From the simple to complex every one of you has got something. So too is it with the Jedi. I am most at home in the chaos of the infirmary. Others in silent meditation hovering high in the air by none but the will of the force. And still others,” Leena placed a knowing hand on Basi’s shoulder, “practicing the ancient arts of battle, of martial prowess.” ”I wonder if that may be true of you too Basi.” Leena smiled as she stepped back, gesturing forward. “You try. Work your way through the velocities, focus first on your form. Try to copy what I have shown you. I may not have a saber with me right now, but I will work through it beside you with my bare hands. Let the force guide your movements. Focus on moving, putting all else from your mind. I will be here with you.” Leena settled into a similar fighting stance, her hands held loose and ready in front of her. She inhaled deeply letting the force wash over him. She let it wash across her heart and soul, inhaling. Exhaling she projected the force in a shimmering aura about she and her apprentice connecting her to him, allowing calming energies to flow between them and the purity of the light to empower them, banishing fatigue and invigorating them with fresh pure energy. And then, they began. Leena would work alongside Basi until he stopped or they were interrupted.
  17. Basi


    Basi nods his head and rises with Leena his mind only on the lesson being taught and the next task to perform. "I am not fretting Master Leena, I figured that I wouldn't be successful at everything the first attempt at it. It was more frustration at myself for letting my excitement distract me from my task and concentration, I should know better by now." The Togruta chuckles to himself while still listening to the wisdom his Master has to offer. "Peace and a clear mind allows one to connect to the force and for the force to flow through and use one as a conduit, but silencing the voices of ones past, healing the mind and the soul from things one wishes they could unsee, and desires nothing more than to take back actions they wish they can undo, is easier said than done. But that's not to say it's impossible the first step is desire and willingness to learn how to let go and embrace a new life, a new world." Basi says thoughtfully as his hands go behind his back clasping as if in parade rest while theyre walking. His eyes show clearly the pain and trauma he's seen and the horrors he'd witnessed yet there was a light a calmness there as if he'd made peace with those sins already perhaps long ago even. Leena's question gets a raised brow as he nods his lekku twitch slightly in confusion until she finishes the explanation. "Aye I was a Military man, kill or be killed was common, righteous fury more common still. Discipline was a must comeraderie, no one gets left behind everyone comes home alive or dead. The art of war and the science of strategy but of course combat too. See so many others were more taken with the fighting and taking down the enemy. Not me, no no i was into the psychological, and spiritual aspect of things. Healing the mind and soul, bridging the gap between us and the enemy, finding common ground to try and bond over to maybe stop the senseless violence and blood shed. And of course as a medic patching up anyone friend or foe who wound up in my vicinity." The Togrutan apprentice states to his master his words holding sincerity truth and conviction before moving on to the next portion. "Aye but it's not just the military. Any job that one has where power and authority over people can lead to life or death, wealth or poverty, sickness or health, freedom or incarceration all can teach lessons that would be beneficial for both the Jedi and the Sith, for Light and Dark must both exist we can't have one without the other yes? But a light beacon will guide one through the darkness if one follows it." The apprentice follows his master thinking over his next words before speaking. "You have my word Master Leena, I will stick beside you and Master Sarna while on Falleen. I can promise you i will be mindful of the darkness that may come from my old life, but i promise you this i will not give into emotion. I will not think like a soldier again...as you say I'm a Jedi now no longer military." The question of his martial training has him smiling and he's all to happy to speak on what he can. He does however slow his pace briefly. "As a combat pilot no, i was not taught all of that, though in truth most of that is not needed when fighting in and from an X-Wing yea? However growing up i was tought the martial ways, katas, and weapons common to the Togruta for generations, my father a warrior and hunter my mother a warrior and politician so I did gain a love for the beauty, peace and tranquility that comes with the martial arts." Basi says softly, calmly and truthfully rather serenely the question about the saber has him pull his jacket aside revealing the damaged saber behind his blaster. "Aye I have it on me is that of importance now? Should I not?" The Togruta asks with concern in his voice had he done something wrong? He just didn't want to leave the saber behind where something might happen to it.
  18. Leena could feel the warm healing energies as they radiated outward from the glowing crystal. The latticework of the stone transformed the raw force energy into a healing aura they enveloped them all. They rejuvenated her body and mind and she smiled. Her hand shot out just before the stone began to tumblr, catching it in her outstretched webbed hand. She opened her eyes as she tucked the stone back in the cloth bag and tucked it away with a smile, “Do not fret Basi, you did well for your first foray into an entirely new realm. When you are at peace, your mind is calmed and emptied of outside distractions, it is then that the force will come to you; when you allow it to guide your very actions, your very will. It is,” she began to explain as she slowly stood up gesturing for Basi to as well, “why the Jedi of yore placed an age restriction on new members of our order. It is a different world now and many of our order come to us with memories of lives they have left behind. Our memories, especially those we cannot revisit, can tend to haunt us; but still,” she mused as she paused for a moment, “they can have their uses too.” Leena began to walk alongside @Basi. “You were a military man were you not Basi?” She asked, well knowing the answer, emphasis on the word were indicating that her apprentice was going to be leaving that world behind to embrace the way of the Jedi. “The military can teach one many great things that are common to the Jedi,” she turned to look the Togruta over, “or the Sith.” ”Discipline. Responsibility. Training. Passion. Leave no man behind. Kill or be killed. Righteous fury. The art of war. Combat.” She ticked through a list she had observed in her times amongst the soldiers of the Rebellion. The same blood flowed through each of their veins, a sacred brotherhood. “Some of these will help make you a great Jedi. Some, my apprentice, can give the darkness a path to draw you in. Be aware of it. Watch for it when your emotions surge to the forefront of your mind. Be mindful when you seek to act not on instinct, but on the training you have received in the military. No matter how righteous or right you may feel, base yourself in the truth. Clear your mind. You’re a Jedi now not a soldier. I will expect you to act as such. Ponder these words and when we are on Fallen stick close by Master @Sandy Sarna and myself. See if you can reconcile your past as a military pilot and the Jedi abd where they must be pruned and where they can grow in tandem.” Distancing themselves from wandering ears, Leena continued to walk alongside Basi toward a wooded hillside, the landing pads in sight in the distance. “Tell me of your training, of combat, if you are able. As a fighter pilot did you study the ancient arts of war? Of katas and fighting styles? Martial arts? Of different weapon systems? I do not wish to delve into memories of pain and suffering. If I do, please accept my apologies and know it is not my intent. Those are things we will address as we train. You brought the saber of your guiding angel have you not?”
  19. He smiled- It had worked. She spoke her mind, beyond the mantras and doctrines of the Imperial Knights. She was a protector. She wanted to keep everybody safe, and he would wager that if she didn't reign in those ideals, she would wear herself thin. Still, it gave him something to work with. He shrugged earnestly, coming clean to his actions. "I must admit, the things I said were purposely inflammatory. You don't get a reputation for garnering reactions in the Imperial court without knowing what to say to get such a reaction. But even if I wanted to serve on the line for as long as it took, it must get tiring being forever wwdatchful. Surely, the fight must end eventually. You must aim for a time you can lay down your weapons and return home, otherwise what's the point?" He stood, gazing at the remnants of her projections, shaking his head. "What's more, if numerous Jedi couldn't stop such beasts from ravaging entire worlds, what am I going to do? What are you going to do? Do you believe that you could do better than Jedi Masters and entire planetary defense forces? That's the height of arrogance, even more so, it's dangerous to assume I, unarmed and untrained in the ways of the Force, could do any better than merely be a speedbump on the Sith road to victory." "Make no mistake, I'm here to clear my name, to return home and live a humble life next to my family on Carida, but it's been made clear to me that won't happen until I serve with distinction in the Imperial Knights. So I won't resist your training, but if you expect me to meaninglessly throw myself against eldritch horrors so that I can be added to their body count, you're wrong."
  20. Darth Mavanger watched from seclusion with interest. His cloak his his telltale armor, and while he doubted his presence in the force went unnoticed, her rested easy knowing that any who noticed him would likely let him bide his time. He knew the Sith needed strong leadership, and this new contender seemed to offer it. He would lead them himself in due time, but he had no place in aiding their efforts to rebuild, at least not yet. But there had been discontent even with Darth Nyrys, a renowned master of the Dark Side with a storied history of victory- there was no telling how the Sith would accept this stranger. She had power, but no standing ,and none loyal to her cause to protect her claim. While he believed her worthy, at least for now, the Sith needed stability to rebuild. Should she fail to grant that, he would step forward and claim the title for himself. But should she defeat her challengers, claim the throne free of any real dissent, then he would return to the shadows, watching, waiting for the day that he would lead the Sith from hiding into a glorious new conquest.
  21. Calypso’s words struck several very specific chords within the Shard. A person who technically was older than they looked, claiming a new birthright. A rage at how things had not changed. And most of the declaration of the Sith being gods. Solus’ own visions before his ascension led him to declare Jedi and Sith to be deities in their own right. And here, this new claimant of the title of Lord of the Sith, echoed the words that he had spoken once. Solus even felt giddy at the lady’s end goal. While he doubted her on Coruscant when she was resurrected, here his soul wanted to sing. Her declaration of plunging the galaxy into pure, unbridled chaos, where strong ruled the weak, appealed to every fiber of his being. He could foresee the Fanged God’s final meal take place in the state she desired. The end of all life ever. The annihilation of existence. Solus’ blade twitched at his side, as his giddyness suddenly transformed into the pure, unadulterated envy. The crystal inside, made from his very essence and envy, called to him, and the whispering horror inside himself burbled words of destruction. He should’ve been the one to come up with the idea. That should be his idea. Why should this nobody from an unknown time be able to just pop up and describe HIS dreams? The ground that shook and opened forced Solus to stumble and regain his balance, nearly tumbling backwards. But even the force that flowed from Calypso could hardly stifle the envy that encircled the Shard in the Impossible Geometries. The little Shard’s hand even started to drift towards the handle, when he stopped in realization. What in the name of the unholy madness was he thinking? Challenging this clearly powerful lady to a duel, even as she accepted any challenge at the moment? A woman who, just with pure emotion, cracked the very ground he stood upon and moved the air? No, that was no way for an Assassin to do it. Not one of his lowly calibur. If he wanted to kill her, he would need to do it in other ways. Solus glanced at those nearby and thought. The lesson of killing the Acklay with traps flashed in his twisted memory. Solus had already pledged the loyalty of the Temple of the Spider. Calypso wouldn’t expect the Shard to attack. If someone else challenged Calypso, perhaps he could join in when unexpected and kill the Lady where she stood. But who would actually challenge her? Solus’ gaze settled on his master. The Lord of Rage. An ideal tool to use, if done correctly. “Master, this is our last chance to see this Sith to prove her worth…and yours” Solus whispered, careful not to let others overhear like back at Naboo. “We have both grown, but where is your proof? Does not the Fanged God demand trial by combat? Prove to everyone why either you or her should rule. Anyone can move the earth, but you… the skills you have are beyond exception. Show her that power I saw on Faleen, the power that made me dedicate myself to you and our deity. Demonstrate the rage of Korriban. Show that the Lord of Rage is not just an empty title, but a moniker for your magnificence. ”
  22. Fiochmar smiled as he basked in Calypso's approval running back quickly he wanted to take yet another trophy from the beast. Cutting a claw from its massive hand he tucked that the spine and fang into his bag. Than almost as if for the first time since it happened he noticed the gaping wound across his chest and abdomen from where the beast's claws had found purchase and struck home. Hissing in anger and pain, he smirked and smacked it a few times with his fist. Each time hurt more than the time prior and served to anger him further. A reminder to use the anger and humiliation from this to never again make such a careless mistake. Reaching Calypso's side again he follows as she starts moving forward to start addressing those gathered. The speech by his Master held the young Tsis enraptured, he believed everything Calypso was preaching, he knew that what she said was the truth. The strong conquer and take from the weak, that we only have the right to that which we can take and have the power to keep. That anything of value that we have another has every right to try and take from us if they thing they are stronger and more worthy of it. Gods were we really Gods though....This was a question he went over in his mind a few times in rapid fire succession the only thing that he came up with was they must be. Power we had it, strength we had it, pettiness and infighting oh we have it in spades. But all of these things all of them every last one keeps the pecking order alive, it makes sure that weak stay serving and dying and the strong keep all that they attain, power, glory, wealth all of it. But to watch the Galaxy burn in infinite war, seems like something his ancestors would have wanted, so hell he was on board. He'd follow Calypso his Mistress and Dark Lady until there was nothing more he could learn from her...then well then would be time for him to make his decision on what he'd do once he could learn no more from his mentor. Then came her challenge and he smiled broadly punching those wounds harder and harder as he laughed into the howling wind and the cracking stone. When Calypso leapt down from the pyramid Fioch was there by her side and to her back, his demeanor showing he was giving his full support to Calypso and not challenging her for the mantle. However also showing that should any wish to challenge for the mantle he'd not stand in their way or interfere. Though he does eventually dig through his bag to get out some bandages and the like to at least staunch the bleeding for the time being.
  23. Bernon Mrrgwharr listened closely to the speech, he didn't agree entirely with her philosophy, but he certainly wasn't powerful enough to challenge her, at least not yet. When the meeting began, he pulled the lightsaber out of his boot, and walked over to Krath Inmortos. He held out the blade as he kneeled before his dark master, saying "Oh great and mighty Sith Lord, I present to you your lightsaber." He was so close to becoming a Sith, he could almost taste it, and if he was trained by @Krath Inmortos he would certainly become a strong one, he knew that with almost complete certainty. The time of the Sith was now, and this Lady Calypso, however wrong in her philosophy, was the strong leader they needed to rebuild and be strong overall and individually once again. Bernon mostly disagreed with her philosophy because he believed in rule of the strong, and the idea of plunging the galaxy into anarchy means that nobody will rule, everyone will just be dead or a survivor on a barren wasteland. He knew she would make powerful enemies, one day she would die, and one day someone smarter and stronger would take over. For now however, the Sith needed her as a leader. Bernon Mrrgwharr knew what his agenda was, he wanted immortality, to live forever, to never perish, and of course ruling over many and having great combat prowess are also end goals for him, but not as much as immortality is. He was excited to become a Sith, to gain power, to have the honor of wielding a great lightsaber in combat, and to do so much more. He knew the road to success would be hard, and could end gruesomely for him, but if that's what it took to gain ultimate power from the Darkness, he was willing to accept the suffering. He looked up at the Sith Lord, ready for him to take the saber, hoping desperately that he would be accepted as a Sith Acolyte. He truly was ready to embrace the darkness.
  24. Calypso smiled. It would seem she had an apprentice. Her first apprentice, and he was as hungry and passionate as she could ask for. She laid her hand on his shoulder, saying nothing, but letting her pleased expression show him her approval. She turned to Dictum. "...and you have my attention, Lord Dictum. I look forward to seeing what you will become." And she meant it. Her eyes swept over the group that had begun to gather. Some had clustered together, while others spread out, some close and some far enough that they were nothing more than silhouettes against the white of the snow. The Force itself subtly shuddered and twisted. Many wills drew upon it, and the silent conflict of such strength quickened the Dark Side. Calypso imagined it as a beast, straining at the leash, yearning to turn this silent congregation into a chorus of passion and death. All these powerful individuals who had been drawn here, by her call or by fate, were now waiting. It is enough, she thought. She walked to the base of her crude pyramid, the cold wind and the rapidly diminishing snowfall whipping her torn clothes about her thin frame. Her mundane, vulnerable appearance contrasted with her calm and assured posture. Only the glow in her yellow eyes betrayed the anticipation that was growing inside of her. This was the moment. This was the start of everything. When she reached the base of the pyramid, she leapt. With the Force buoying her up, she effortlessly cleared the 25 feet to the top of the lowest layer. From there, she pivoted to face the gathering figures in the snowy wasteland. She raised her hands. "SITH!" she called, her voice echoing through the air and through the Force both. All here would know what she had to say. "I have called you here! Your challenger stands before you!" She swept her gaze across the crowd, gray shapes in the cloudy twilight. "I am Darth Calypso. I was born from the depths of the Old Republic's decrepitude, over 1000 years ago. I have awoken again, and I emerge to see the Sith truly returned. In the time since the fool Kaan and his Brotherhood of Darkness, the Sith have clawed their way back to the blood and iron they were founded on." She paused. "...And yet, once again the Sith Empire...has fallen!" Her words echoed out across the landscape like the crack of thunder. "How many times has our order been beaten back? How many times have the weak, the ignorant, and the cowardly united to smother a truth they know they cannot hope to control? And yet we always return, as perpetual as the spinning of the galaxy!" The slate gray clouds above her began to spiral, centered over the pale woman in ragged clothes. "So why have we failed again?" She fell silent for a moment. "...Because we have ignored what we are. We are not generals or admirals. We are not kings, queens, or emperors. We are not politicians slinging words to fool the masses, or knights fighting loyally in the service of a lord. We are gods! We ARE power! There will be no great conquest. There will be no empire. We will not unite the galaxy under our rule, as the Sith have attempted so many times before. We will SHATTER IT!" As she shouted these last words, arms upraised, her passion escaped her control, and the ground vibrated almost imperceptibly. "This new Alliance will fall before us. Always the Sith have come as a conquering army, but this time we will come as the monsters we truly are. We will not ape our enemies. We will not try to bring about peace under our rule. We will plunge the galaxy into fire and death! The time of republics, alliances, and empires will come crashing down! The lies of the Jedi will be torn away, and the truth that the Sith have always known will finally be made evident to all! Everyone, Sith or Jedi, soldier or civilian, weak or powerful, will finally understand that a being is only entitled to what it has the will to take and the strength to hold! When we are finished, the idea of a unified galaxy will be laughed at by the survivors digging through the ashes, and the hypocrisy of the Jedi will be seen for what it is. It will be a new Age of the Sith. And in this age...the strong will finally receive their due. They will carve out their realms by their own hand. They will defend what they have, while taking what they wish from those weaker than them. All beings, not just the Sith, will follow our Code! All will fight for victory and freedom, because there will be no other way!" She gestured at the crowd. "Is this not what you want? Do you truly wish to serve under some distant ruler, content with what you've been given? Don't you want the opportunity to prove your worth to a galaxy that has denied you what you deserve? I will give that chance to you. I will give that chance to everyone." Then, Calypso lowered her arms, the animating passion of her speech dwindling. "But these are only words. Sith are not ruled by words." She took a breath. "I declare myself Dark Lord of the Sith!" The words rang out, echoing across the wasteland without softening, as if they had a life of their own. And then Calypso stopped holding herself back. The ground shook. A deep, grinding rumble drowned out every other sound as the stone trembled beneath the snow. With a deafening CRACK, a dozen crevices as wide as a man spiderwebbed out from under the block where Calypso stood. The air crackled with electricity. Wind that had nothing to do with the weather howled and screamed across the snow. The Force itself seemed to writhe and boil. Calypso's power had never come from arcane rituals and ancient secrets. Her master had never afforded her that opportunity. No, she had spent her time perfecting herself as a channel for the Dark Side, refining what strength her master had thought safe to give his tool. She had studied Sith philosophy, and put herself through every trial and strife imaginable to purge any hesitation, weakness, or self-delusion from her. What was left was the passion she drew on, and it was endless. Her master had once called her a misanthrope. The clinical sounding word had never seemed to capture the reality of what the coruscanti street urchin had felt. Her hatred was a consuming, burning thing that ate away at her. It was something she'd learned to lock away until it was needed, but always hovering below the surface. She hated the people of the galaxy. They were self-deluded idiots who spent their whole lives fighting not to think, serving anyone or anything that promised them even the illusion of control. She hated the Jedi. They preached compassion, but had never come to save those like her starving right below their feet. They preached justice, yet stood by as the rulers and officials they defended openly enslaved others. They preached peace, but had been at the forefront of major galactic wars time and time again. She even hated the Sith. She hated the figures gathered before her, either arrogantly thinking themselves superior while they fretted at their mundane or pointless ambitions, or willing to fall to their knees in humiliating subservience and cast away their very thoughts. And she hated herself. Even now, she knew what she really was. The child who had never left Coruscant. The orphan ruling a kingdom of blind, animalistic cannibals. In her new galaxy, there would be endless war. Endless strife. Endless destruction. It was no more than what they all deserved. She leapt down from the block, the quake created from her telekinetic power fading as she gathered her will. Her lightsaber leapt into her hand, and with a hssss its red blade flared to life. "So...who's first?"
  25. Basi


    Basi took another deep breath and focused on his task. Yes he was able to put the trauma and terror and the darker feelings of the battle field behind him. It took effort but it wasn't anything he wasn't already trained for compartmentalizing burying tucking these emotions deep down where they'd never be dug up again by anyone. So yes he was able to rather quickly wrestle it back down and into its compartment. The praise from his master had him beaming a bright smile, proud to be making her proud of him. Knowing that Leena was seeing his triumphs thus far just fueled him with a deeper desire to succeed further to make Master Leena more proud of him still Following her words and her guidance....direction. He nods his head to her words and speaks softly. "Yes Master Leena, one should not lose focus because of one triumph. That is a rather quick way to lose the victory you fought to earn." Basi states softly and its at that point that he smiles and stretches his hand out. Reaching out with the force yet again, the Togruta's mind focused on the task. Closing his eyes at first he could feel the warmth and energy flowing through his fingers. He could feel the love and adoration of the people around him flowing into him and through him all of the positive feelings washing over him gives him a renewed vigor a sense of accomplishment a sense of helping those in need always filled him with pride. Once Leena let go of the Crystal Basi stretched out more with the force. The crystal glowing brighter, Basi smiles and redoubled his efforts and the stone floats for a minute or two before falling Though still glowing. "Damn so close....so very very close! I almost had it! Damn it." The Togrutan man grumbles looking at Leena he sighs looking rather disappointed.
  26. Hugglepup’s face broke into a wide smile sensing Fate’s annoyance. He shrugged as he pulled the plant in close and tucked it into his robes. Leaning forward he happily whispered, “Well it worked on me at first and on you. Its worth a shot. Although….” He looked around warily his voice loosing its playful edge and growing more concerned, “we probably better have a backup plan. Ya know, just in case.” Straightening back up, Hugglepup adjusted the plant beneath his robe. He waived Bird off. The massive predator leapt into the air with a fierce downward draft sending plumes of dust rolling outward. Bird swept out low over the ground a fierce cry emanating from his sharp beaked maw. “We might as well get moving. I don’t know how we are going to find our shadowy friends anyway.” Hugglepup did not have any idea where to go. He had no doubt that the mysterious sect were not going to wait around, not at some abandoned bombed out mall no less. On a city-scaped world devastated by a planet/sector spanning war, billions killed, displaced, or evacuated, it was hard to wonder where to even go. “Perhaps we can find our way towards some bombed out palace or temple somewhere,” he paused to look around before pointing the direction Bird was flying. It was almost as if the raptor knew something. “That way. Much more fitting a place for such a powerful group of eclectics.” ”Come on.” The Zabrak waved, beginning the slow trek of picking his way through stories of fallen structures haphazardly constructed and reinforced over lifetimes. In the distance a wicked thunder pealed across the horizon as flashes of green-tinged lightning illuminated the sickly acidic irradiated rains that bathed the devastated landscape rusting metal and stripping the chrome from gleaming bits of ship, burying themselves into sizzling holes within the duracrete. The wind kicked up, the storm was heading toward the Jedi. It would be upon them within the hour.
  27. Keenava was ready to go, but something felt... off She gave Master Sarna’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before wandering through the camp. The sensation she felt in the force was a mystery, yet oddly familiar. Like a trail of breadcrumbs, it led her on an elaborate series of paths that meant stopping at irregular intervals. She couldn’t tell whether it was a good call or a foreboding one. Regardless, it led her all the way to a mysterious, scrawny individual who had a massive crate of what looked like junk sitting beside him. He was discussing things with a small robed figure that Keenava couldn’t see because its back was turned. But the man wasn’t it. It was the crate beside him. Something was here. Something had called her here. There… Slightly obscured but still visible near the top of the junk pile was the glint of a familiar jewel. Keenava’s insides wrenched at the prospect. But, in the end, despite its torrid past, it was made for her. Keenava waited until the robed figure—who turned out to be a merry little jawa—walked away before approaching the scrawny figure and his junk. "Hello, sir, I believe you have something of mine," Keenava started with cautious confidence. She pointed to the jewel near the top of the pile. "That’s entirely possible; I’m a scavenger; I collect all sorts of things." The man replied with nonchalance. But his emerald green eyes screamed of a deeper understanding than he was letting on. His mop of salt and pepper hair was long and braided. His beard was big, but well groomed. He looked to be almost 60 years old, but his attitude and countenance suggested a youthful exuberance. He reached into the pile and revealed a corroded-looking metallic canister. The handle was covered in rags and bandages, and her mother’s jewel stood out at the base. "You’re in luck. I wasn’t able to sell it. People were wary of it, saying it gave them the heebie-jeebies or something.” The man handed it over without batting an eye. The familiar metal felt at home in her hands, but the shadow within burned against her palm. She quickly extracted her old force crystals and threw them on the ground like they were violent suns threatening to melt the skin from her bones. Afterward, the metal was quiet and the weapon was inoperable. But the chassis sang a quiet tune of joy at their reunion. The old scavenger picked the crystals off the ground and chucked them into his box. Keenava raised an eyebrow in response to the cavalier gesture. "You don’t want anything for it?" The man smiled. "Oh, I never give anything out for free. But, in a way, you’ve been an unwitting pawn in a lot of my money moves over the years. I can’t really divulge anything more specific than that, but let’s say I like to keep an eye on people." Keenava wasn’t sure she knew how to process that, but she chose not to look a gift horse in the mouth. She was mildly suspicious of the man’s gaze, though, as one of his eyes started to move independently of the other. "Well, since you’re in a giving mood, do you have anything else you’re willing to give?" The Twi’lek replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. The man chuckled. It was a pleasant tenor sound with a well earned gravel at the bottom of it. "I suppose I do. You’re welcome to pick and choose, considering I wasn’t able to sell any of these. I don't really blame people. Everyone here is in varying states of post-traumatic stress and disrepair. In hindsight, trying to sell anything here was a mistake, even if I was giving discounts." The old man proceeded to pull things out of the crate one by one: TL:DR (These are the items she kept) - (for a full list check out the spoiler. Just a warning, its a bit long). - The Idarah A.I. unit. Without it's higher functions it will likely just be used as an auto pilot/targeting system on her new ship. (Idara/Idejjen/Ida) - Two weighted (adjustable) training bracers. (Starfire) - A pair of lavender lightsaber color crystals (Aleria Thorne) - Kevlar Jumpsuit with Indigo accents, and a black leather duster (Anilara Starbane) - A pair of sturdy yet stylish brown leather steel-toe boots that go up to the knee with articulated joints. (Scorpion) - (Decorative) A dancing outfit and Amethyst necklace (Esmernia Langarmie) - Drawing of Keenava as a Sith Lord (Adwin Antares) - An MP89 player, with MC2310 Master Headphones (it needs a mod for Female Twi'lek), and a necklace in the shape of a moon. (Liv) - A hydrospanner named 'Locksley,' and a metal memento with Ca'aran's face on it that she will return to Delta if she ever runs into him. (Kailen Aeli) More detailed explanation/description: "And, lastly, a deck of Sab–" "Hey! That’s my deck, Bill! Give that back!" Malin snapped as he appeared with his entourage in tow. He was irritated, but still managed a sidelong smile at Keenava before snatching the deck from the old man’s fingers. "I’ve been looking everywhere for those!" Malin took a moment to shove his cards in his coat pocket then looked between the older man and Keenava. “What’s going on here?” The older man looked at Malin with an amused smile. “I was giving this young lady a run of my scav stash, because I couldn’t sell anything.” "Well, while we’re in the business of giving things away, I've been meaning to give this to you, Keenava." Malin handed her a set of keys and activation codes. "It’s the keys to my ship. I heard you didn’t have one of your own. And, while I enjoyed the smuggler's life a bit, I’ve got to look after my cousin and this little anarchist." He said, running his hand over the small Togruta's head. "And, since I’m not on the run anymore, I can actually take a look at giving up mercenary work altogether. I owe it to my family to give this life thing a shot. And before you ask, I’m giving this to you because you’re the only other person I know here. Aside from Bill, of course, but he’s the one that gave me the ship. It would be silly to return it now when it has so much life left to give. Just watch out for the droid in the cargo bay!" With a fond smile and a wave, the smuggler rounded up his young ward, his protocol droid, and his cousin—who Keenava just noticed was wheel-chair bound—and left the Twi’lek with her mouth agape. After the grizzled gentleman packed up the rest of his crate, he sat there with one leg outstretched and a death stick hanging out of the corner of his mouth. Keenava hefted a large bag of junk onto her back. She couldn’t really explain why she felt a connection to these items, but something about them was warm. They felt like old relics despite their mundane appearance. She took a long look at the man, and her brow knit with curiosity. "Who are you? And how do you know so much about these people? How do you know so much about me?" The man smiled. It was a warm smile that made Keenava feel like reciprocating. “Let’s just say I’ve been around a very long time. I’m a caretaker of sorts. You take care of those. I hope they serve you well on your journey ahead.” She couldn't explain why she felt at peace with that explanation, because for all intents and purposes it didn't really make sense. A caretaker? But he just gave all of these things away. The man was an enigma. Keenava turned away to head back to Sandy, but paused to wave at the man because it felt like the right thing to do. But when she turned back, he was gone— "—I'm not gone, I'm just a few feet away!" The man exclaimed with his crate over his shoulder. "Also, you asked what my name was before and I forgot to tell you. The name is William Natronus. Though, my friends usually called me Big Will. Now go catch up to Sandy." Keenava had no idea what kind of head trip she was in, but she had nothing else to do, so she scampered off to rejoin Sandy with her new haul of stuff.
  28. Qessax said nothing at Vangar’s visible annoyance, though his instincts almost made him stand up. Only the years of Imperial training and living among the more civilized races stopped him and forced him to remain watchful. He was in the hunting and pursuing state of mind, usually reserved for wild animals but now trained for more deadly kinds of foes. He was witnessing his Regent’s growing anger, and the cause of it. However, Lor was no so easy and when Vangar leaned forward, she gripped her claws into the table and almost snarled back. “You ended a war? Heh, with Kaleesh soldiers alongside if i remember right. 14 of my brothers joined my ancestors at Nar Shaddaa, and many more of my cousins. How many of your superiors’ work do you take credit for as well? “Sister, maybe we should…” Bolda started to interject, but Lor continued “And for the betterment of my world, did you do these things for the betterment of Kalee, or because it made a nice profit for the mining guild? I heard a captured poacher tell us ‘war is good for business, but peace is good for business too.’ While my father-in-law might trust you, I have to wonder: When the factories on Kalee start to become unprofitable, will you leave it abandoned like the Empire left so many worlds before? Will your employers of profit tell you to pull out when it's not helpful?” Qessax raised an eyebrow at this. He hadn’t realized that Lor was working from the assumption that the factories on Kalee were because of some trade deal. He glanced back at Vangar, curious on how he would react. Was he clever enough and cool headed enough to realize the point of view Lor was working from? Would he spill the noodles on the fact that he was regent thanks to the help of Qessax’s dealings? Either way, he would control his wife later, but he wanted to see how this played out, so he gestured to Bolda to stand down. “If they must wrestle it out later to establish who needs to apologize, then we will let them.” Qesax muttered to her
  29. At first, Fate almost sighed at Hugglepup’s eagerness. It had been such a short separation, and not long enough. However, that annoyance turned to shock, as Fate muttered in disbelief at the sight. “Wha-? Where the kriff? How?” Fate grabbed her own head in shock. From the distance, she couldn’t tell that it was a fake plant, nor did she care at the moment. At the moment, she was just in disbelief that something green actually survived. “Nevermind, questions later, lets just… wait” Fate’s tone, had it been organic and utilizing actual vocal cords, would’ve changed greatly. Instead, it remained monotone. Her eyes however, spoke levels. “That's…you gotta be kidding me” Fate rubbed her eyes, the annoyance returned in full force. Fate gave a deep groan, trying to push down her feelings and held a six fingered hand for the fake plant. “So you found something i see. You think the cultits will accept it? Because honestly, this is probably the closest we will get to actually finding a shrubbery.”
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