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  1. Today
  2. Solus


    "My own tutelage taught me different. To rise to the rank of Sith Lord, I would have surpass my Master and slay him. Wouldn't it prove a burden to slay the one who you hold upon such a pedestal?" As Solus led the way for the two, he replied with his own thoughts. “Ah, you are of the same teachings that my father, Lord Roshan, was under. And to that, I say, if I kill someone who is below me, is it such a worthy challenge? Killing someone above me…now thats a worthy feat, is it not? ” As Solus walked he turned himself around and walked backwards briefly, looking at the two Sith Lords. “Besides, there is a phrase in our clan that I've discovered: Wide smiles, sharp blades. Both are easy to clean” Having finished with his own thoughts, Solus finally introduced the group to the ship’s library. A circular chamber filled with various datapads and holocrons, the Master of Hides greeted the group. A tall, gaunt, and horribly deformed Bith by birth, with his left arm and left foot shrunken to half their normal sizes. To make up for this defect, the Master of Hides utilized a mechanical arm attached directly to his spinal cord and a pair of robotic legs overfitting his defective leg. To Nok’s requests, he simply waved him to his right. An assistant servant over there would be willing to help. To Dictum’s request, he took a more personal consideration and pulled a few datapads off the walls. “While our collection is lacking on Ragnar’s personal livelihood…” The Master of Hides explained with a terrible lisp. “...his professional career is a bit more recorded, including many of his more deadlier and deceptive methods of killing his enemies, as well as his last days working within the Sith Empire. I believe these will shed a light on what you hope to find.” For Solus, the Bith looked the Shard over. “I’ve heard about what you seek, Dragon. Your madness has become….erratic to say the least. The sorcerors warned me of this possibility. I have already prepared several datapads for you, but I will say, what we have is limited. The Temple of the Spider is not a well-versed subject here. Madness usually doesn't concern us. But, perhaps you can find something we have missed…” Solus bowed to the Master of Hides. “Great celestial cranial pod , your help is appreciated beyond words. May your brain never explode from the sounds of greatness.” With that back-handed compliment given, Solus began his work. While the others had their own tasks in the ship’s library, Solus was sorting through information as fast as his photoreceptors could take them in. The record speed for a droid of his chassis was hundreds of hours of video files of footage within one hour. Solus was only a little slower then that, much faster than the average humanoid. After three hours of going through the data, Solus began to see a pattern. “Aha! Behold!” Solus exclaimed almost widely as he pulled up files for others to follow. “All mentions of similar madness like the one I have are usually linked to madmen, who were placed under psychiatric watch and then usually died shortly after. But for ones like these…” An image of a crocodilian species appeared. “Behold, Shimrak, a Vulptereen security officer who claimed he was stalked by spider-like ooze, which followed him from Vulpter to Neimodia. Died in custody at a police station. Officially ruled as suicide, but doubts existed as his own through was slashed five separate times. No one else was spotted in the room.” The image changed to an elderly Sullustan woman. “Feen Paluub, nighttime dancer and professional consort. Killed several of her customers under orders by an ‘unspeakable thing made of nothing but eyes and legs. Placed under medical care to be administered before tried in court of law, but died due to heart failure enroute to hospital.” Finally the image changed to a young male human. “Reg Oyce. Correlian freighter pilot from Corellia to Coruscant. On his last mission claimed he saw a ‘dragon’ swimming alongside him, giving him force visions of something ‘beyond description’. Was fired from his job, and the Jedi Temple denied an audience with him. He was found dead in a speeder on his homeworld. Ruled as a drunk-driving accident.” Solus swiped all the information away, and pulled up three separate images of the final death scenes of each mentioned individual. A police jail cell, a bloodied hotel room and a smoldering speeder on a travel way. “Now you may be thinking these people have nothing in common. No similar causes of deaths, positions of work are widely seperated, different genders and species, heck, one of these beings didn’t even speak basic. They died between 12 and 15 years apart from each other, and none of their livelihoods ever crossed paths with each other. But they all had one similarity:” Solus outlined a singular place on each image. For the jail cell, a pattern carved into the wall sloppily by claws. For the hotel room, a canvas painting hanging on a back wall. For the speeder accident, blood smeared on the ground. Each one was slightly different, but only slightly: cascades of circular shapes, overtaking each other, with a few lines criss crossing all over. And in the center of each image, a unified but separate shape, with no lines crossing it. "They all had a unique appreciation for art at their time of death. " Solus brought up another image: His room on the ship. On a previous conversation with his master, he had made a nearly identical image in his own ravings of mania. With all four images before him, the Shard overlapped them each other, with the central object as the pinning point. Separate, they were wild, useless, unimaginative drawings. But together, they were now a star chart, complete with routes and popular planets of trade. “Behold!” Solus proclaimed as he brought up the appropriate star chart to match the image before him. “The Kathol Rift! Hahaha! Yes yes!” Solus practically leapt upwards and jumped about like a child, beating his chest and whooping wildly, unable to contain his joy at his discovery. “Bwahaha, my madness is not madness, it is genuine! The Temple exists here, and here alone! And I, Solus the Ascended…Solus the enlightened! No, I, Solus the Dragon, know where to find it! Haha!”
  3. Apothos smiled, a gruesome thing given the taut, deathly grey flesh that was left of his face. "I appreciate the offer, and I'll take you up on it," he rasped. ________________________________________________________ Apothos, once he'd been given access to the ship's databanks (minus anything the crew would want to keep private, he was sure), seemed to go into a trance. The screen, which he couldn't see anyway, only flickered fitfully, and Apothos' body jerked in time with it. In actuality, the computer was indeed running, and far faster than it normally might. Apothos mind, a much more elegant interface than a mere keyboard or control pad, blended with the databank, parsing through the information at the speed of thought. Files were brought up and dismissed in the same split second. Others had excerpts extracted and compiled as Apothos separated what he needed and copied it to a private file. He was catching up on all he had missed, and he was mildly surprised by what he'd found. The Sith Empire was on the run, if not destroyed entirely. A critical defeat, a resurgent desire for unity and order, both at a profoundly inconvenient time, and it all began to crumble. The wave of history had struck one side of the pond, and now it was moving the other way. Now the question was whether one hid from it, or rode it. Considering, Apothos nodded to himself. He'd return to form. He'd move to the shadows, starting in the Outer Rim where this new galactic order would have as little a grip as possible. He'd take care to hide his identity, and remain on the move. And above all, he'd be discreet. No more grand displays, at least for the time being. No, he'd build instead. Slowly, carefully, and subtly. Of course, first he had to see what awaited them where they were going.
  4. Akheron followed after Mavanger, curious as to the reasons why he was asking such questions...intrigued. He allowed the conversation to continue as Darth Mavanger enquired about the Sith Code and if his old master, of which there had been a few taught him of the Code, asking if he could recite it and if he understood it's meaning. It was no easy question to answer. Briefly closing his eyes he recalled the first time he had heard the Sith Code...long ago under his original master, under Darth Quietus, the famed White Wolf. The traitor who had betrayed the Sith at some point after. "I was instructed in the Code, yes. Albeit not under Sheog The Mad, it was under Darth Quietus, the White Wolf that I originally became aware of the Sith Code and it's meaning. Or rather I was left to decipher it and ponder it's meaning when he left the Order to pursue a Jedi and betraying the Sith." Recalling the words he spoke them. "Peace is a lie; There is only passion. Through passion, I gain Strength. Through Strength, I gain Power. Through Power, I gain Victory. Through Victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall set me free. I came to several truths, at least from my perspective in my study of it. That Peace is a lie refers to the fact that peace is a fallacy, a falsehood. A lie all tell themselves. For the galaxy and the universe is a endless chain of Chaos, a unending cycle of destruction and rebirth and by accepting this truth, we allow our Passion to take root, using it to fuel our desires and emotions, in my case my Wrath and Rage, to give us Strength so we may through this gain Power over our lives, the galaxy and our fates and achieve Victory over our enemies and our own weaknesses. Using lessons learnt in the Darkness as our connection grows, to become stronger until we break the chains that bind us and set ourselves free of all limitations. The Force shall set me free, refers to the fact of the Darkness setting us free of these limitations and accepting these truths, only by doing this shall we unlock our true potential in the Darkness. Or so I came to see of it and how we all have a purpose."
  5. Yesterday
  6. MSA


    Before departing Ylesia, Sanguis had been introduced to Captain Byrce, the lead of the Alliance's Force meant to liberate the world of Korriban from the darkened grasp of the millennia old Sith Empire that had held sway over it throughout time. But Sanguis wasn't the Jedi that she had likely hoped he was. For he was new to war, and as such, held very little knowledge or content for it. With a bow of his head, the two had departed the Admiral before entering hyperspace. "Forgive me, Captain, but my enthusiasm for the upcoming battle doesn't quite match your own, nor that of your men." He had spoken in return to her own words as the klaxons resounded their departure. Allowing the shift of acceleration, he took a breath and continued. "My mission here is simple. Enforce the war efforts and end the conflict with as little loss of life as possible while representing the Jedi Order's position." Silence would loom over the two as much as possible during their trek toward the assault shuttles as Sanguis kept the chatter to a minimum. He knew his words would likely come off naively with a hint of arrogance, but he had yet to settle himself into a semblance of what he was tasked with. He still stood on the precipice of righteousness and reality, unsure and ignorant of the part he would play. Settling in as Captain Bryce, her men, and the others prepared for what laid ahead, his nerves grew more edged with each resounding of exit and reentry of their tactical jumps, a relieved sigh exhaled when reentry took place. It was nerve racking to say the least, but Korriban would signal the point of no return. And eventually, it would come, and the nerves would become vomit. Wiping his mouth as the Admiral's words echoed throughout the ship, Sanguis listened attentively as the words presented their intent as much as their reluctance. With his stomach in knots, he would await the reply along with the others. He hoped for a peaceful resolution, but knew there would be none. Turning to Captain Bryce, he final broke his silence. "The Admiral is a blunt man of few words." He spoke, the nerves he fought resounding in his trembled words. "Hopefully the remaining Sith will see to reason. I am not looking forward to this fight."
  7. Last week
  8. Mavanger


    As Akheron spoke, Darth Mavanger shook his head. More talk of the Fanged God, of a fate that wasn't his to control. The man had been so neutered by his faith in this... cult, that he had forgotten what he was. It would be Mordecai's duty to rectify this mistake. While Nyrys's new shadow empire would sow discord and discontent within the new galactic government, he would remove any vestige of weakness and misguided faith from it. While he disagreed with the Dark Lady's methods, the deed was done, and the only chance to succeed would be to ensure that the Sith were at their very best when they were ready to return. "I don't recall asking for privacy, only for you to close the ramp behind you. Had I wished to remain anonymous, however, such a guard being placed outside defeats such a purpose. In truth, their presence matters not. What leaves this room after this conversation is for you to decide." He pulled himself to his feet, moving to the Ysalimiri enclosure that had protected them on their way into the Helvault. The beasts had been disposed of shorty after their retreat, and now the terrarium lie empty, still as the day it was created. No evidence that life had ever congregated within. "Are you able to recite the Sith code, Lord Akheron? Did your master ever teach you its proverbs? Help you understand it's meaning?"
  9. Rruror’rur’rr stood there with his hands on his hips regarding the majestic fallen demon beast and rider. Before he could decide how to begin slicing, the Tusken’s attention was called away by one of his fellow sojourners. Pursing his lips beneath his mask, he shook his head. The voices of his ancestors whispered to him. They urged him to turn his attention to the Jawa and the cyborg. He really did not want to. Gutting such a exotic monster, it seemed so much more simple. Oh how he longed for a simple existence. With a sigh, urged forward by voices only heard by the himself, Rru turned. He tucked his knife away and stepped towards Zeris. “Your friend,” he spoke matter-o-factly as he wondered exactly who they were after or how they might find him on this vast wasteland of a world. Here, even the ancestral voices seemed tainted with an evil that permeated from this world. They whispered to him. They enjoyed the kill of the monster, even if it had little purpose beyond the bloodshed. The winds whispered all about the Tusken. On the heat of this devastated world, they spoke. Images of the quarry, Oka Geb, played from Zeris’ foreign mind to Rruror’rur’rr’s barbarian one. The coarse sands of the world blew about the nomadic tracker as he knelt. Rru scooped up a handful of sand, studying it as he allowed it to flow through his fingers in streams of elemental earth. As the land of the sand fell, it was whipped away by the wind, vanishing into the eternal sunset sky. Rru’s eyes scanned the horizon, the voices of his ancestors blending the past and the present. A once teaming city and before that rolling hills and rivers, giving way to the accelerated claws of decay and madness as an unnatural evil shadowed the land. Brother turned against brother and the world about them came crashing down until it was nothing more than this, that which stood around them now. His ancestors, they were not of this place, not of these sands, born by them and consumed again in death. No, they were the spirits of Tatooine’s faithful, the warriors who had grown haughty like these. Dependent on the artifice of false promises and prophecy, they had stood strong in the day of damnation and they had fallen in it, their children sheltered by the very boiling of their blood. The warm winds that blew about Rruror’rur’rr grew cool, cold even, like a cloudless desert night carrying upon them the false promise of a looming storm. In it’s grasp, Rru could see the marauders, they that had to take them before they even touched this accursed land. He felt their bloodlust, their greed for things so small. Their ignorance and unwillingness to give up grasping at the straws of the galaxy would be their undoing. Even upon a world such as this, a fallen sister to the plate-glassed ancient son of Tatoo, the firstborn and soul heir to a legacy of folly, these had not learned. Like the newcomers who sought their fortunes among the sands of his people, refusing to forgo their adulterous ways, these marauders too forsook their own. The spirit world implanted memories, those of the fallen, of the past. The guidance of the ages sought out the face of one man, a being known not to their son, but to that of his companions. They traced these marauders footsteps through the sands, following their winding ways backwards until they intersected with that of Oka Geb. His sinful folly, like that of so many Rru had seen, had led to an intersection with those too who desired naught but destruction and he had set upon, ravaged by the mighty. The voices hissed to Rruror’rur’rr as he stood, the winds dropping to a slight guiding breeze. His body was tense; they sought punishment, to kill these sinful ones; ones whose fate seemed to mirror but were unintwined with those of his people, of Tatooine. His ancestors visions and desires seemed darker than before. This world was a cursed place, for it even tainted the eternal dead. Rubbing the last grains of sand between his fingers, Rru looked to Zeris and Kiv. “The one we seek was set upon by the same death worshippers who attempted to sacrifice us.” He pointed out through the hills of devastation. “If we can follow their path, we may yet find him. If we are lucky,” he gave Kiv a playful kick, “this one won’t loot whatever remains of him before we have what we came for.” He waved to the others, “grab what you can carry. We have a long journey ahead of us and these sands may not be as forgiving as that of our home.” The paths of repulsorlifts were hard to track, but in the wilds even they left telltale signs; disturbances upon the earth. Hulking wheeled catapults in the other hand; well, those were pretty easy to track, as long as they did not tarry and the tracks were obscured by the evening and morning winds. The Crate would be of little use. The catapult tracks might be visible for now, but a ship might destroy them prematurely, and when they began to fade, foot travel would be a necessity. “Maybe your demon-droids could guard her vessel from raiders,” he gestured to Kiv’s droids and The Crate. No sense tracking just to lose their only means of escape. Even Rru recognized that. He knew that the false representations of life the Jawa liked to hide behind were threatening. His people had developed special means to fight them. Hopefully they could keep their means of egress secure. Maybe they could even fix it. It did look a bit banged up after it’s hard landing and encountered with the demon and its rider.
  10. Qessax breathed a sigh of relief as he witnessed the clone’s pull back into a more secure formation. That was much too close for anyone’s comfort. However, he couldn’t help but smile a bit too. This mission was making him feel alive. The stress. The excitement. It was like back on Kalee on his first Muumuu hunt, where a single mistake could cost his life. “I hope your men don’t overextend yourself again like that. Still, good plan captain.” Qessax whispered into the comm. It seemed that the Umbaran mechanics who came back didn’t even notice the clone’s work. The umbarans who had gotten nervous also calmed down a bit, each of them feeling a wave of reassurance that if they talked about with each other, may have considered it odd. But as it was, they had no time to talk about their feelings. The head slaver barked an order, and the others went back to their slaves. _____ “Sir, the engines are ready to come online” The umbaran mechanic reported. Tyre clapped his hands. “Not a moment too soon. Bring it up! Lets move this fine vessel!” The mechanics gave a salute and began to do so. Slowly the engines began to start up. After so many years of disregard, all the repairs had given them life again. Tyre smiled as widely as his pale face would allow him to do so. Finally, promotion was in his… “Ah, such a beautiful sound…” Tyre held his arms up as he glanced around. The entire ship was purring like an Umbaran Banshee. “Gentlement, lets get the ship back to Umbara and…” Tyre stopped. He saw the look of discomfort on his head mechanics face. “Sir, um…all of our panels just went off… and…” The mechanic swallowed slowly. “It seems there is a fire in the system somewhere.” Tyre brought his hands to his head, rubbing his temples, smelling the smoke already that the mechanics had smelled. “Can at least one thing on this piece of scrap work correctly?!?” He almost shouted. Tyre looked at the mechanics still in the room.This time he did shout. “What are you waiting for you idiots? Get to work! Find the issue! Move!” The head mechanic nodded and ordered the others to open the doors and to go find the problem. Only he and Tyre would stay inside. ________ Qessax looked around as all the lights in the ship came on. The umbarans all over the ship gave a cheer, seeing the lights as a sign that the ship was about to move. The slaves on the other hand, weren’t so happy, earning some more whippings from the slavers. Qessax whispered sternly into the comms. “Everyone, just because the lights are on doesn’t mean the Umbarans see you. Don’t panic now. Vangar, I hope you are at the control room, we are running out of time here”
  11. Akheron considered the words, helping himself to some of the offered drink. Just as his actions and words were being considered, so to was Lord Mavanger being studied and tested in a way. Or so Akheron believed, for the Fanged God was always testing those devoted to the Darkness and moving them according to it's will...whether they believed in him or not. "I believe it something of importance my friend, considering you called for such privacy Lord Mavanger. One choice of many roads that the Fanged God likely foresaw and now tests us both with. A test of our loyalty and devotion to the Darkness and to each other, it shall be interesting to see where this road takes us and what choices are made. As to the matter of trust...it's not that I don't trust them, I do. But that trust only extends so far, as with all among the Sith. It's been that in my personal experience as a Sith among the Order and being among my own people, that there are few you can truly trust. I have been stabbed more times in the back than I care to count by those so thought I could trust to fulfil their own agendas and paid for it with blood, so I now take certain precautions...even among my own crew. For I will not allow myself to suffer such betrayals again and have my trust misplaced. Although perhaps in this instance, I did go a little overboard I admit. But one can never be too careful I have found, I hope it won't be too much of a inconvenience. I can tell them to go as well if that is your wish."
  12. Dictum remained in silence as the group before him began to disburse, the Elder Sith retreating to the confines of the shuttle and the pragmatic voice of the Shard echoing across both the acoustic and the Force, that latter of which he paid little heed at first. For Dictum, this display of the Order he had sought was unusual and weird, albeit different from the rise he had faced in his coming. His father's past was as much a mystery as the group before him, but from what he learnt under his last Master, the Shard's reaction was unwarranted. "I will go with you... He decided and spoke to the Shard Solus as he departed within the confines of his unnatural bonding, quickly catching up in his departure and leaving behind his compariotarch from Helvault in hopes of discovery under this Master of Hides. "Perhaps in your endeavor, I will find answers of mine own." For Dictum, any knowledge of his Father, Darth Ragnus, could provide the key to himself. But as the two walked the halls toward their destination, he couldn't help but notice differences in Solus' Apprenticeship and his own before his rise to Sith Lord, and silently grew curious in them. Breaking the silence that had enveloped them, Dictum questioned Solus. "Why do you hold your Master in such high esteem, Apprentice?" Dictum questioned, his tone carrying his curiosity as his blind gaze made no motion toward the Shard. "My own tutelage taught me different. To rise to the rank of Sith Lord, I would have surpass my Master and slay him. Wouldn't it prove a burden to slay the one who you hold upon such a pedestal?" Or were this Order different than the one he held lineage to, the olden Order of the Sith he derived from a more classical and conservative aspect that had dissipated in the turning of the Galaxy in the years since his induction? He thought in silence to himself as he gave the Shard a chance to respond, his thoughts upon the cullmative aspect of strength in numbers over the aspect of strength through will. Was there a difference that made more sense? Perhaps this is why Helvault was a success when his own had failed to ever present the opportunity. "I suppose there is an advantage to numbers.. He continued, raising his hand to his chin in deep thought as he processed the pros and cons. "But you would lose quality in the quantity, making the individual weaker to ensure the strength of the mass.... As the two reached their destination, Dictum realized that he may have overstepped boundaries set by the Apprentice's Master or the Apprentice himself, his curiosity of the current Order's philosophy as alien to him as bonding the Shard to such an inorganic form. Still, it wasn't completely unheard of, as his Master often spoke of Lord Haphaestus, a culmination of flesh and steel. "Forgive my ignorance, Apprentice. The philosophy that my own Master instilled within me likely predates your own. I'm sure it's as foreign to you as yours is to me. Perhaps we could speak more of it upon completion of your task." Turning away from the Apprentice, Dictum turned toward this Master of Hides. "Loremaster, bring me all that you have on a Sith Master known as Darth Ragnus."
  13. After a final hyperspace jump to realign the fleet with its re-entry vector and to tighten up its formation, the Third Fleet of the Galactic Alliance appeared above the Sith fortress-world of Korriban. Though the planet was little more than a brown pearl at the range that the MC90 cruiser Fidelity and Nebula-class Star Destroyer Benediction appeared at, every planetary sensor had to be screaming at the sudden arrival of the hostile fleet and dozens of starfighters. The fleet’s A-Wings, as usual, led the advance towards the planet, streaking downwards and relying on their prodigious speed and sensor jammers to reconnoiter hostile positions. They would begin an irritating operation of harassing potential Sith positions, approaching just close enough to risk provoking a response from interceptors and ground batteries–only to retreat to the safety of the fleet’s fighter screen. All the meanwhile, the fleet lumbered forward in a steady orbit that would eventually place it in a position to bombard the Valley of the Dark Lords. On the bridge of Fidelity, Admiral Slaughter quietly watched the progression of his task force at his tactical pit and fretted. He had actually begun to bite his fingernails out of nerves, a substitution for his habit of pacing and stalking about the tactical holographs. He knew that his task force could withstand a pounding from the batteries that his intelligence had identified–Fidelity’s reputation for toughness was legendary throughout the fleet and Benediction was little more than a hulk that had been gutted for hangar space–but the success of his attack depended wholly on a couple hundred brave volunteers whose survival was contingent on him being a very attractive target. “Comms, get me an open channel. I want everyone in system to hear this.” Slaughter grimaced and sent his voice into a lower register, the war-weathered growl that was his image. “Lords of Korriban,” his growl rasped in the back of his throat.. “Your attack on Nar Shaddaa has failed. The allied coalition lives. Your fleet was dealt a mortal blow. No help is coming. Systems across the galaxy are declaring for the Galactic Alliance. No help is coming. “The Galactic Alliance gives you this chance to end your war. You are to surrender your positions and disable your arms. We will take that as indication that you wish to save yourselves. If you fail to do so, then your outcome is inevitable.” Slaughter sighed and downed a canteen of water the moment that the transmission was cut off. That had been as much a performance as it had been a declaration of intent. Being the bloody-handed officer whose arrival promised violence was an essential part of the plan. With any luck, the Korriban garrisons would soon launch their first fires, and the conquest of the Sith homeworld would begin.
  14. Just like the space around it, the bridge of any warship was a scene of organized chaos during the last few minutes of preparing to depart for battle. Fleet tenders were detaching from airlocks and uncoupling their fueling lines; late-arriving shuttles were hurrying to offload munitions and men; starfighters were being launched as combat air patrol; armorers and deckhands and hundreds of other crew were finalizing their checks of turbolasers and missile launchers and starfighters and all manner of equipment. Most of this activity visited the bridge at some point, usually in a relayed report from a communications officer or a sheet of paperwork for the Admiral to sign. Slaughter would normally be a moving target during this frenzy, pacing along the perimeter of the bridge to be intercepted by these runners. He was now stationary, contemplating a holograph of Korriban at his tactical pit and occasionally glancing at one of those routine messages. Still stationary… because of the unrepaired damage to his spine and paralysis in his legs. He really needed to make the time for the prosthetic implants. Aequitas might have heard a dangerous growl in the back of the Admiral’s throat as he approached. It was an ominous sound, but it was directed more at random chance and an anonymous Sith gunnery director. He actually smiled at the sight of the Jedi Knight upon turning, a expression that seemed to require muscles in his face that hadn’t been exercised in months. “Knight Aequitas. Good. You’ll be familiar with Captain Bryce. She’ll be joining you in the transports down to Korriban. Looks like the rest of the assault team has just arrived. Slightly ahead of schedule…” “Jedi Knight? Pleasure.” The red-haired woman nodded towards the Admiral and walked away. As the two departed, it became clear that Johanna really did stand as though she was constantly wearing the plastoid armor and belt-spat of her uniform. A heavy jetpack unit was built into its back; her ramrod posture was necessary for bearing its weight comfortably. “Good luck Admiral. Mister Aequitas, my lads have been looking forward to taking this fight to the Sith for a long time. I think they will be very happy to be working with you on this mission. I only hope you’ll be as pleased with their performance.” As the two made their way to the assault transports, it seemed as though the shock trooper was incapable of silence. She was nearly bouncing on her heels with nervous energy, even taking in a deep breath of anticipation when the alarm klaxons sounded to indicate that the fleet was about to enter hyperspace.
  15. Apparently the bay they had landed in was not one of the main bays at the end of one of the arms of the lucrehulk, as Vangar had assumed. Moving along the walkways outside the walls of the usual hallways and rooms, the Viceroy-incognito moved like a predatory cat. A half dozen steps behind him, Chrissie followed, her eyes darting from a handheld console to the walkway before her. “Looks like we’re a lot closer to the bridge than we thought boss. Somebody’s getting nervous though. They locked all access ports.” Behind his mask, the barabel’s heavily muscled brow furrowed. Somebody had slipped up. Little did he know the prowling assassin droids, murderous sentinels aboard a highly mechanized ship, and their demise, may have been the cause. He picked up his pace. They were on the clock. He hopped the others had heard the message and were effectively making their way towards their goals. Slaves needed their harnesses deactivated, tracking beacons needed shut down, hostiles neutralized or removed. All of that needed to happen before they left the nebula. If they were given away before that, things could get quite sticky. And that was what it came down to. Standing there with a gloved hand against the smooth metal wall, Vangar knew the bridge was on the other side. Who knew who was in there or what they were packing. Looking around, Vangar nodded well out of reach above, directly over the yawning abyss tangled with walkways and wiring was a vent; an exhaust port to a large heat sink that helped cool the computerized consoles of the command bridge. Pulling a silvery K-23 from his drop holster, he pressed it into Chrissie’s hand even as she objected. She was already carrying a drop gun. “Just in case. I’ll let you aboard once it is secured.” With a carefully aimed wrist, the Imperium’s Crown Regent caught the grate. Hitting the rewind, the grate easily swung free. ‘Memo to self. Secure those.’ Vangar noted to himself. Once his hook was nestled flush back with his wrist, Vangar’s booted and palmed rockets fired, short bright blue conical flames that lifted him upwards and outwards towards the hanging grate. Alighting to the opening, Vangar pulled himself inside. It was a tight fit and his gear scraped lightly as he belly-crawled inside. Slowly, carefully, Vangar pulled himself arm over arm through the heat sink. His under weave and armor worked to wick away the excess heat. Even so, the lizard felt his blood warming beneath his fatty layers. He did not stop, turning left at the Y in the shaft. He kept moving, only slowing as he approached the dead end of the sink, the back of the computer core that relayed into a bank of screens and equipment. “Well, that wasn’t what I hoped for.” he grumbled. “Druk.” He flicked his tongue turning his comm back to Chrissie, “Relaying my helmet feed to you. What do I gotta pull to get some attention inside?” Flicking his eye in a preprogrammed pattern, Vangar allowed his HUD view to be accessed by Chrissie. Chrissie pressed her earpiece further into her ear, not wanting to miss a word. Keying in a string of alphanumeric monikers into her datapad, she authenticated her Wing Guard identity and accessed the HUD feed. “Hmmm.” She stuck her tongue out and chewed on it, judging the gentling hovering feed before her. There were certainly a lot of wires and switches. “You’re not gonna like this.” She sighed ”What?” Vangar breathed, knowing the answer was going to instantly complicate their operation. “There is no way to know what will lead to what. The wiring is third party and not standardized. Anything I tell you would be a total guess.” ”Kriffing druk.” The barabel swore as he stared at the hodgepodge of electronics, his body warming more and more with each passing moment, only mentally accelerated by the countdown. As he canted his head, Vangar considered his possibilities. Then he raised an eyebrow, an idea puncturing his heat-filled brain. Scrambling backwards, Vangar instinctively shielded his head behind one arm while extending his other towards the core. “Fair warning. Not sure what this os about to do. Probably going to get some attention.” He voiced into his radio for the others. With a squeeze of his palm, depressing the sensor within a 5 second gout of flame arced from his wrist, blasting the core in licking superheated flames; flames that bathed every nook and cranny of the already uncomfortably warm machine in hellfire. Hopefully it would cause the entire core to shut down; maybe it triggered a fire suppressant, maybe it didn’t. If anything, Vangar hoped it bought them all some more time as the engineers scrambled to figure out what went wrong, and where. It was a huge ship.
  16. At being dismissed, Ruin turned to the Jedi, gave a brief thumbs up, then moved away. Clinging on tightly, Fera made no noises but simply observed her surroundings. The two made their way to the armory, following the agent in charge. The toydarian gave a look of shock at the droid, not used to seeing such a large figure waiting patiently in a line. “Eh, what is it. Big guy?” Ruin unceremoniously slammed him flechette launcher on the table between the two, a heavy weapon if there ever was one. “Ammo.” Ruin stated, followed by placing numerous casings of ammo clips. Just when the Toydarian thought he had seen enough, the droid reached down to its legs and pulled out several more clips, until there was a small pile on the table. “Reload and Refurbish” Ruin said. The toydarian, more than a little confused, had to go into the back to find enough for the droid. It wasn’t like flechette launchers were in high demand at the moment. “Listen, big guy, how you hoping to buy this? I don’t see no credits on you…” Ruin looked down at the toydarian flying about, and placed the partially working disruptor pistol. “Holy kriffing…” The toydarian swore as he quickly swept the weapon out of public view. “You realize how illegal it is to have these things?” Ruin didn’t say anything, and began to collect his ammo. However, before he left, he pointed at one other object in view. A small mounted tube connected to a canister with the words X-Pyre written on the side. “That? You sure you want that? I hear the stuff is pretty difficult to work with…” Ruin nodded and held a hand out for it. Later, Ruin left the armory, examining the mounted tube on his wrist. It certainly was a little odd-looking, and one could follow the tube to Ruin’s backside where the canister was mounted. But if the Toydarian was correct, the ‘sticky’ flames that would come out of the canister would be about 5000 degrees. More than enough to set sith on fire. Again, the two found themselves following the imperial Agent who had spoken earlier. Approaching him, Ruin nodded. “Huntings and seekings, seekings and huntings” Ruin greeted the agent. >Greetings Agent Orin. this is B-5 87, designated as RUIN. I am Fera. Ruin is expressing eagerness for this mission< Ruin nodded as Fera translated for him. “Hunt Sith. Kill Sith. Rip and tear and burn and bash. Heart of Hell.” Fera continued. >Since his programming states to kill Sith and their active sympathizers, he is eager to, as you would say, attack the heart of Sith culture.<
  17. Mavanger


    Darth Mavanger watched in amusement as Lord Akheron swept for bugs and placed a rather overkill number of guards outside of the ship. As he finally returned, sitting before the Sith Warmaster, Mavanger took a drink from a cupboard. The ship was not only a stealth transport, but as it had been furnished for Sith operatives and members of Sith Intelligence, it had a healthy amount of luxurious hardware. He poured himself a glass- A bothan wine, from a manufacturer he didn't know. No matter, it was a formality more than anything. He poured a second glass, placing it upon the table before him. "Help yourself if you wish, Lord Akheron." He took a drink, watching the man's actions carefully. "Tell me, what do you believe the cause of this meeting to be if you have placed so many guards and performed such a diligent sweep for bugs? Do you not trust your own crew? The fellow Sith who just aided you in a mission most dangerous?" At a glance, he was at ease, more interested in the drink before him that the Sith that now sat opposite. But this, hopefully unbeknownst to the veteran Lord, was a test. A measurement of his character. A chance to see if his hunch was correct. His answers here would laregly steer the conversation, for better or worse. He would either be found a worthy ally, or a hapless pawn.
  18. Solus


    Solus fell to his knees, grasping at his head where his Shard was hidden inside. The fear that sank in was much more noticeable than one would imagine. Perhaps it was his training with the force abilities, or perhaps it was because what he had experienced earlier in the Hellvault, but he could feel that this fear was much more implanted and fake than genuine. That didn’t mean it wasn’t effective however. On the contrary, Solus’s voicebox began to emit a soft but eerie piercing noise, a quiet scream of a machine. He could’ve sworn that around the corner, that thing was creeping up on him, readying to slay the shard where he stood. Solus began to look at the others. Was their skin starting to peel away? The Miraluka who leaned in to whisper almost got smacked away, Solus holding his hand back barely. Were those scars actual scars or were they just disguises? Perhaps they were monsters hiding in plain sight or… Then the fear vanished as soon as it came. With less effort focused on the Shard, the fear quickly evaporated. Realizing how silly he looked on his knees, Solus pulled himself back up. “Yes master, it will never happen again…” he said, like a defeated child. He nodded obediently as his master went off with Mavenger. Solus looked at the others. Instantly, he seemed to change his posture, as if he was aware of how he looked to those who remained. No longer a defeated child, he acted like the excited droid his body portrayed. “Behold the wisdom of my master, and remember your fortune at having him at our side.” Solus bowed to the others. “If you wish, I will not mind company, for my glorious master has no orders over you, and perhaps you would like to learn what i am learning? Perhaps you, blind one?” Solus gestured to the miraluka. “Or you, great Apothos? Lord Innmortos held a keen interest in our databanks, and perhaps you might share his interests, hmm?”
  19. As the shuttle entered the flagship, Akheron felt at ease being back aboard his mobile home of sorts. This was his sanctuary among the stars. Treading along, he heard his com-link beep he answered, seeing that Lord Mavanger had requested he stay behind and seal them both within the shuttle. It appeared for some kind of private matter. He wondered what he wanted that required such privacy...he would soon see. Turning to Solus before he locked himself and Lord Mavanger alone inside the shuttle, after Krath Apothos, Solus himself and the others had left. He spoke, making his instructions clear before he left. "Once Krath Apothos has separated from you when inside the flagship, you my apprentice are to head directly and without delay to the Master of Hides. Our keeper of ancient lore and chronicler of all things unknown and arcane within the Clan. Tell him I have directed that you look into these illusions you have suffered from, these lapses. See if there is a precedence for such events and if others have experienced similar illusions within the history of not just the Clan but the Sith Order itself. Perhaps in that you might find an answer to the riddle that has far has eluded us. Search specifically within the archives, holocrons and datafiles...any scroll for any slight mention of the creatures you conjured and encountered. Research and evaluate, seek out your cure and destroy the source of your problem, take control of these illusions. This is your next test, your task. When you are done await me within the training chamber. We shall discuss what you find there. Go and do not return empty handed." As they exited he sealed the entrance, heading to where Lord Mavanger was currently sitting, he likewise took a seat. But not before having several Linnorms guard the outside of the craft to ensure no-one got back in or was listening to the conversation. He had the shuttle swept for bugs before they spoke and then had the security team wait on guard as well, encasing the shuttle in a shield wall. None would enter. "We are alone Lord Mavanger, I have ensured we shall not be disturbed. What was it you wished to discuss in private, I admit you have me curious as to the nature of this conversation. One that you feel the others need not know about...one of secrecy." He silently awaited a response, even as he placed his masked helmet upon the ground next to them.
  20. Kiv held his hands up at the Tuskens angry words about unshared ancestry. “We all need family when off the sands. What’s old jawa saying? He has no pack dies soon? We all sons of sand, yes? No worry, I no call you cousin, call you lone raider? Yes yes…” Kiv observed as the larger being went towards the corpse. Kiv himself had an instictual urge to get closer and see what he could salvage off the body, but something was off. “Um, you sure you want slice and dice? It… it smell not good, like… like burnt rotten bantha. But older than old? Don’t smell right, no no no…” Coming from anyone else, it may have been a typical response. But coming from a Jawa, who’s own natural odors were described as ‘musky’, ‘’potent’ and ‘repulsive’, meant something. Still, Kiv also knew better than to get in the way of a Tusken Raider, and quietly observed from the side. Meepo followed closely to Zeris. He understood that as far as he was concerned, the best option off this planet was the pilot. “Excuse me, but who or what are you hoping to track exactly? This planet does not exactly bode well for anyone’s survival, and I’m afraid imperial protocols did not include any information this planet that I am standing on. Kiv seemed to overhear this and glanced over. “You no know this place? Only hear whispers. Bad place, best left alone, yes? What kind friend is this, danger lady? He valuable person? Lover perhaps? Or maybe owes child services? Hehe, i kid, i kid.” Eyes, who had been silent for the most part, had begun to scan the area. This place was for all intent and purposes, a junkyard to say the least. Scraps of metal and trash everywhere. But what confused the little droid is that some of the rubble seemed to indicate the site was once much more organized. In the past, this may have been a parking spot for a control center for an emberpit. Even in the short distance, he could spot a hovel of a building that once houses many computers and controls. But now, it was a wasteland. Further in the distance away from the pitt Eyes could also see signs of civilization. Or at least, previous signs of civilization. Old skyscrapers toppled over, smoking ruins, half-buried streets, etc. And even further, piercing the skies, was one lone skyscraper towering over all the other ruins, like a dagger emerging from the ground hoping to stab the skies. Eyes flew back down and began to relay all the information he gathered to the group.
  21. The force was stirring, the first ripples of a disruption echoing across its still surface, an anxiety crawling across the force like a spider stepping towards its prey. Threads of the force bending under foot as Quezzex’s plan came to its tipping point. Suspicion, and fear was beginning to permeate the minds of the slavers and mechanics. And a small point of danger was beginning to swell. Raphanel could not pinpoint the source, but it was there, and it would begin to spread. Anger, anxiety, fear. And at last resolution. Someone had decided to act on that fear. The Knights prepared themselves in the darkness, moving on silent feet within the shadows. No Lightsabers, no weapons to give them away. He reached into the force, accessing the force in the way only a long trained master could. Out went the current reality, the anxiety, and the worry. In came the calm and reassurance. His mind touched others, reaching out to every anxious mind with a calm sense of reassurance. It was a soft touch, the soft touch of long experience, telling those minds that there was nothing to worry about. That they had done enough to protect themselves, that they had done enough already. Reassurance. Or at least enough to buy the Operatives the time time they needed.
  22. MSA


    As the meeting began to wrap up and the two Alliance members began their departures, all that remained was that of Master Draygo-Darkfire and the droids RUIN and FERA. Sanguis silently gazed upon both RUIN and FERA briefly before deciding to make his own departure, but not before shifting his gaze to Master Draygo-Darkfire and forcing a half hearted smile. "Thank you again, Master." He spoke, his voice soft and hesitant as he stood near the exit. "I will do my best to uphold the Order's stakes in this mission and my promise to you." But he knew he was only one man. This was an Alliance ran mission with a Jedi as backup. He felt that his opinion would matter little tactically. But he would do his best to uphold the Grandmaster's wishes and the Order's integrity. Turning out of the room, he saw Lady Misal and nodded his head as he made a momentarily approach to the Miralukian Elder. "I wish you the best, Lady Misal, and I'm glad that we finally met officially. " He spoke, his voice a little bit more chipper this time and more sincere. "May the Force be with you." He offered his hand briefly before making his departure back toward the large encampment to gather his things from the makeshift hut he had been calling home since Nar Shadaa. When time to head back toward the Alliance outpost, he would be found staring out over the encampment lost in thought as he boiled the mission over in his head and what it truly meant for him on a personal level despite his reluctance. He knew he had to quit doubting himself and his skill, and that his Master would not have Knighted him if he were truly not ready for it. And his trust in the Force had waned, something he knew he needed to focus upon. For the Force would not have guided him so if it was not it's will. But life and its struggles had a subtle way of placing one off balance in the most important of moments and he knew deep down that there was a lesson to be learnt from Nar Shadaa even if it's horror has obstructed his view from it. Still, it was a struggle that he had yet to overcome, a struggle he would have to inevitably face with integrity and strength. Letting out a sigh, he turned and began the rest of the trek to his destination. When he arrived aboard the Alliance flagship to report for duty, he found the Admiral @Sgt. Slaughteraboard the bridge. Bowing formally, he introduced himself, something he had not done during the previous briefing. "Knight Æquitas of the Jedi Order, reporting in Admiral."
  23. To say that the return of the Force was empowering would be a ghastly understatement, as the mixture of euphoria and the plaguing of constant pain coursed its way through Dictum's body and soul like a wildfire. Like an addict, he craved it, lapping at it like a wild dog on the verge of dehydration. And yet, the more he lapped at it, the more it pained him upon its return, causing him to ache for more to numb himself to its pain. So many months without it, starved by both its touch and blindness was like a breathless moment where one could only struggle to survive. And now that it was back, it bore its vengeance upon his frail form. But he withstood it, taking its rapture willingly, and becoming its silent Master. The will of the Force may have been a strong one, but his will was absolute. He would not let it break him. He would make it his own as he sat aboard the Sith's shuttle, the piercing echo of the Force capable of crippling the weak, intensified only by the wails of the fallen as a smirk crossed his pale lips. Amidst the rocking turbulence of the shuttles exit and the following destruction of Helvault, the Darkness provided its antidote. With the Force at his call, he supped upon the catalyst of its wound, functioning as a darkened balance between pain and bliss as it tore at his existence. This was why he smiled devilishly. He knew its truth. And it's knowledge was his power. For he was a Lord of the Sith, and his darkness was his will. As the moment of struggle subsided and his control over the Force cemented, he felt the shuttle's landing and noticed the others begin to depart. Draped in the Robes of his people, he stood, a weight lifted by his will rolling from his form like mist as he turned toward the shuttle's exit behind the group. He knew the time of Helvault had passed, and his future was beginning to take shape. So his focus shifted, and with the loss of the Dead One hanging over the rest, his thoughts were elsewhere. For he had returned to that which he had came from, a legacy born child of the Darkness, and the fold would need to accept him. Power begets power, and as these few had shown, power accumulates around the powerful. This was where his focus had shifted. If Helvault had taught him anything, it was that he still had much to learn. He had been caught, taken alive for the attempted murder of the Alpheridies Chancellor, and locked away. He had failed in his previous mission, whether it led to his meeting these Sith or not, and that was something he felt a subtle kinship to in this Solus. Standing his silence, he took a portion of the being's burden upon himself, as he deserved a similar punishment whether he received one or not. Failure was never an option. "Recieve the gift of knowledge and clarity..." He spoke to himself beneath his whispered breath as Solus recieved his Master's punishment. "And become stronger from it."
  24. Mavanger


    There was one last thing he had to do. As the other Sith filed out of the shuttle into the Sith vessel, he closed his eyes, leaning back in his seat. Inmortos had gone down with the station, an unfortunate loss. But he doubted the master Necromancer would die so easily. No, he'd be back. Death had as little grip on the Krath as it did on himself. A monkey paw's curse. Immortality, but a life of pain and loss and grief. All that was left, the only reprieve he could find, was vengeance. Cassandra's death, Raven's. Every rebel he'd killed, every monarch he'd toppled, none of them were an equivalent exchange for the single one he's lost. And yet, it was all that came close. He forced himself to his feet, the weight of his armor holding him back. It was more than physical nowadays- it was an emotional leash, a psychological weight put in place by time after time of being handicapped at his moments of triumph. But this time- It would be his last, whether he won or lost. Even if death still refused to claim him, he would be done. Of that he was sure. He pulled out his comm device, keying it to call the last piece. "Lord Akheron, return to the shuttle immediately. Seal the entrance behind you. We have much to discuss."
  25. Talyn listened as Admiral Slaughter mentioned the time limit for departure, he would need to be quick about gathering any equipment he might need for the task at hand. It was unlikely he would get most of what he needed from the fleet armories, his equipment was slightly more specific and required certain types of ammunition which could probably be acquired from one of the refugees, a smuggler perhaps who would be willing to trade for credits. As such he gave a salute as the Admiral left and soon followed. He would need to be quick, as such Talyn 'borrowed' a speeder bike from one of the soldiers about the area when he wasn't looking. He didn't have time to ask for permission. Zooming from the area, he searched the camp before eventually coming across a unscrupulous looking sort hidden away from plain sight, a toydarian with some kind of weapons bazaar located between what might be called a slum in the refugee camp. Somewhere few soldiers would go unless they needed to. Entering, Talyn spoke as the toydarian looked him up and down. A little suspicious but otherwise accepting it seemed of any credits. "Greetings, I am Talyn Orin. I heard this was the place to come for the more unusual requests where weapons and ammunition are concerned. I have need of some very specific ammunition. Ammunition for a Dissuader KD-30, 5 separate cases for putting in pouches, and two over shoulder shell belts with cartridges for a Accelerated Charged Particle Array Gun, and three power packs for a Sg-82 sonic rifle. I am willing to pay over the odds since time is of the essence and I don't particularly care where you got them. Only that they do the job. Can you help?" The Toydarian brushed it's chin for a moment, considering before he spoke. As with most of the species, he stunk, was a bit bad tempered and stingy. "Who told you that? No-one I don't like I hope. It is true I have what you need but would be cheaper going to your friends I think. Let's see ammo for a Dissuader KD-30, Accelerated Charged Particle Array Gun, and three power packs for a Sg-82 sonic rifle...that'll be...15,000 credits." Talyn's eyes glared through his mask at the price mentioned. It was almost extortionate but he didn't have time to haggle or complain so begrudgingly he handed over the credits before departing. Placing the Dissuader KD-30 ammo into his ammunition pouches along his belt , legs and arms he then proceeded to place the ACP gun ammo belts over his shoulder, one on top of the other like some western bandit. The sg-92 power packs he placed into the pouches on the back of his belt. Satisfied, Talyn vacated the area and headed to the nearest ship that was part of the Korriban mission. It didn't take , to be directed to the right place. Once inside, aboard the same ship as the rest of the mission team, he waited for the rest to arrive.
  26. “So far so good.” Lance Corporal Christoph Sokol whispered. His soft voice seemed to shatter the silence that filled the ship as it wove a path through the asteroid field. He was met with several disapproving looks from behind a trio of helmeted faces. Still the creak of his comrades’ armor as they leaned against their harness and their body weight adjusted spoke clearly. What was he thinking? ”Heh.” Queens chuckled softly. He wasn’t one to believe in superstitions, but he had appreciated the dead silence the scouts had unsolicitedly offered him as he wove the Alliance craft through the rapidly tumbling ever-changing maze of destructive stonework that was the asteroid field about Acrid. He was right, Christoph, after all, so far, things seemed to be going along swimmingly. Given the chance of encountering Imperial tech in the hands of what amounted to little more than slavers or pirates, the pilot had honestly expected more. When one had the toys of oppression, one usually liked to show them off. Although . . . the twirling wreckage of some sort of hacked up freighter that passed uncomfortably close overhead as the U-wing pitched downward at a sharp incline was probably testament enough. “Approaching the inside rim of the asteroid field,” Queens droned almost robotically. So far so good indeed, if there was going to be any sort of engagement, the TIE pilot preferred more open space to a gravitationally strewn field. In the hold, the excitement was almost palpable. The silence having been broken moments before, the commander of their little group, Gunnery Sergeant Benjamin Wood nodded as he checked the blaster connections of the heavy repeater nestled in his lap. “No going back now boys. Only way home is once we secure our objective and make sure this filth’s bio-labs are blown back to Xim’s final stand.” As if on cue, a single red beacon flashed in the hold. In the cockpit, it was accompanied by a telltale mechanized whoop. “Whoever it is, good guess them birds know we’re at the front door.” Queens radio’d as his scanners picked up the planetary scans of their ship. Somebody had spotted them. “Trill Five is going dark.” ”That’s our signal, lets light this Life Day cake,” Riggs laughed, excited for what came next, “Just don’t get us shot down, this coffin is packing multiple friendlies.” He chided the pilot as he slapped the activator to the frequency jammer. A bulbous gelatinous sound seemed to emanate outward from device itself as the entire ship was engulfed in a rapidly expanding field of millions of frequency overriding signals. “Yeah, yeah.” Queens waived off the comment, but even his helmet comms were jammed, bathing the entire ship in an eerie silence sage for the dull throbbing of the engines that one could almost feel more than hear. About the same time swarms of interceptor droids detached from the backsides of the spinning asteroids, launching themselves with a fury towards the planetary bound squadron of craft. Triggered either by the sensor ping or the sudden frequency jamming, the droids did what they knew best. Their little computerized minds focused on whatever was not a known friendly and they attacked, launching themselves with reckless abandon at the X-Wings and U-Wing. True, they were less coordinated than they may have been, several even crashed into one another in their fury to attack, exploding in plumes of silent electrified debris; still, it was like a horde of goblins giving chase. Goblins armed with Clone War era buzz droids that is. They could not lock on, that would have made them even deadlier. No winder so few ever made it. By sheer number and continued computerized sef-adjustments, the swarm closed in. The flash of two buzz droid-laden interceptors colliding caught Queens’ attention. The fact that they had gotten so close was a concerning testament to the pilot’s general dependence in the technology he so expertly commanded. No sensors had alerted him to the asteroid-birthed defensive measure that cut them off from the outside world and sought to cut them to pieces. “Evasive maneuvers.” He called into his dead comm unit. Not like anyone could hear him. It was more force of habit than anything. Verbalize you actions, slow yourself down just enough to think, act on thought and instinct. Remaining in formation, the U-wing accelerated with the others, clear from the field. Perhaps speed was to be their friend already.
  27. To say that Akheron was not happy with his apprentice would be a understatement. Even despite his success, he had been too reckless and dabbled where he shouldn't almost costing them the successful completion of their task. His Anger and Wrath radiated outwards, directed towards him...he wanted him to feel it, to know how disappointed he was at the actions he had taken. And more, this time he would not escape punishment. For the second time he would suffer, albeit not physically given where they were currently. Instead the Sith Warrior focused within the Darkness, and directed it at his apprentice. Striking at his mind, the deepest parts of it at least in a effort to inflict uncontrollable shaking fear that would wreak havoc at least temporarily. Through pure force of will Akheron would cause his apprentice to lose his courage completely and would rapidly demoralize his apprentice with a feeling of hopelessness and regret. Depending on his will, it would cause his wayward apprentice to either cower defenselessly or flee. Although there was nowhere to run and hide. He spoke, his anger evident in his voice. "That you may have done my apprentice, but your reckless actions in undertaking the task almost cost us everything. You dabbled in forces you cannot comprehend, running before you could walk and almost cost us Lord Mavanger and Krath Inmortos who had to help contain some powerful illusion you unleashed. For this you now suffer and shall not escape punishment, you shall learn even if I must break you. This is not the last you have heard of this either...we shall discuss it more when on our way to Ziost. Feel now the fear and horror of your actions. Do not disappoint me again." (Next post will be in space briefly)
  28. I hate this planet. That was the thought running through my head as I extracted myself from the pile of emergency rations, cybernetic parts, assorted junk, and an empty turbine lubricant canister that I was coming to find hadn't been entirely empty after all. I groaned. My head felt like stirred soup, everything blending into everything else, big chunks spinning round and round and round and... Sighing, I dropped to the...wall. I groaned again, this time in frustration. Of course The Crate was on its side. Probably knocked the starboard stabilizers out of alignment when it happened. I had no proof of that, it just felt like one of those days. "It's dead?" I asked, my voice slurring a little. That probably wasn't good. I might have a concussion, but I couldn't seem to find it in myself to care. That also probably wasn't good. Instead, I gave the little jawa a thumbs up, and lurched to the controls. The lights were flickering, and half a dozen warnings were competing for attention, but a quick glance over told me none of them were anything that would ground us. I had been right about the starboard stabilizer, but I could compensate until I got The Crate somewhere I could work on it. First thing's first. I tapped the controls, and the ship's repulsorlifts hummed to life. There was a screech of scraping metal, and then a sudden lurch as the ship righted itself. With another tap on the controls, the ship gently dropped back to the ground. I stepped out of the ship, and saw the tusken heading for the beast. "Hey! When you're done there, think you'd be up for some tracking?" I hadn't given up on Oka Geb. If he was still alive, then I was going to find him.
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