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  1. Orpheon took in a sharp breath as he first exited the vessel. As he exhaled he watched his breath become vapor and rise to the sky. His shoulders naturally hunched forward; his body naturally reacting in an attempt to keep body heat near his core where it would do the most good. Pulling out a pair of fur lined gloves he was glad he had brought some winter wear for this journey. Taking his first few steps into the snowy landscape, strangely he quickly became accustomed to the cold. The icey bite against his face seemed to fade and he almost began to feel at home. His vision seemed to sharpen, and his natural thermal vision seemed to improve. The slight waves of heat that he could previously see radiating form Leena seemed to grow larger, and become stronger. His hair whipped in the wind, strands falling into his eyes as he pushed on, following his new Master. After several hours of walking, the Chiss apprentice felt the desire to reach out with the Sight. Focusing inward, he reached for the strength of the storm within and allowed his feelings to reach beyond. He was surprised at the strength of the Sight on this world. Knowing that life seemed to be connected to the Sight, he was sure a world such as this would be bereft of the Sight. But somehow the strength of this world seemed to radiate from within. "Master, where does the strength of the Sigh......Force..... come from on this world? If life is what gives the Force strength, how does such a barren world as this radiate such strength?"
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  2. LESSON "Your title and position are owed respect, my Lord. I haven't seen if you're worthy of them, but there will be time aplenty for that on the battlefield. The Sith need a stable leadership more than they need a new Lord. You will face no mutiny from me- not as things stand now, at least. On this, you have my word as a warrior." Shimmering, full-bodied hair cascaded down the strong bone structure of his face, celestial eyes sat deep behind cheekbones that angled symmetrically with an arrant nose and a broad full-lipped mouth, all of which screwed itself in careful consideration. Unyielding features of a peerless and brutish general were on rare display, features accented by a sovereign lambency that oozed from the ornate build of his fiendishly obsidian armor-plating, the face of an elysian Anzati gladiator at whose feet the wise would crawl and submit, the face of a King made in legends against conquered worlds and the open rule of the galaxy: The Dark Emperor. Rage almost surfaced onto one such face. An unruly vibration of power could have erupted and stifled the moment, stirring a mixing pot of volcanic blood and ethereal fury in his chest. His white eyes would have churned into a burning deeper than the red cresting of a dying Coruscant, empty soulless things, debasing the proud lines of brow and jaw, peeling lips back to show sharp drawn-out porcelain fangs. It never came. “Disappointing.” Flatly, the single word fell as apathetically as one could ever speak it, souring what the King had come to expect. A world-weary sigh escaped him, nostrils somewhat flaring from the heavily bored exhalation. “Words of mutiny, insurrection, and worthiness." Exodus said the words indirectly as he paced, as if tasting them for the first time, wondering why each one had felt unbalanced against his tongue. Exodus met the eyes of his lesser with the same indifference he had exerted with all that opposed him. Antipathy lurked beneath his facade of noble decorum, a cold and meticulous cunning as glacial as frostbitten steel, perusing the demeanor of the human before him. "Your validation has never been, nor will it ever, be any of my concern. It is fetching that you’ve come to believe otherwise, adorable even. But unfortunately, your respect is not a thing to be desired in the slightest, my child.” Basic was the simplest language he could use to relay his meanings to such a creature, stressing the importance of every word as if it were indeed, his very seed. Ungrateful. As if enjoying the Emperor’s stalking prowl, aberrant shadows flowed beautifully across the mapping of the Sith King. Maintenance headlights flickered a few episodes, and the silence drew menacing. It was wildly apparent that many here drew strength from the same source, the Dark Side of the Force, but none brandished such power with equal footing. The rushmore of power within the Sith Empire had many faces far more tried and tested than the machinations of an over-eager student, the unstudied would be wise to acknowledge each and every face that had paid their dues beforehand, for fear of gravely disparaging those that had paved the way. Delusions would have one quickly believe they could rival or displace the throne of the Dark Lord after they’ve bumped their chin in a few scuffles. A few bruises and victories were a far-cry to a near impeccable legacy carved from persistence and steep reverence. Such a lack of awareness was why the creature did not appreciate that it stood a mere footfall from the maw of the great Sheogorath the Insatiable. Did the human even realize just who that was? These thoughts ran through the mind of the Emperor, and swiftly by all means. Severing the head from his spine cleanly, or watching the Hutt devour the soul like marrow from hollow bones. No. No. What stood before Exodus was the equivalency of a spoiled child, a child of his own brood, broadly ignorant of what it took to manufacture such dominion. An affluent galactic estate built from nothing but rubble. From the very brink of extinction to the triumphant subjugation of the known galaxy, the entire infrastructure of this superpower was laid brick-by-brick by Lord Malacoda and his Faithful. This very fleet and the souls that crewed them, were but a gift given to divulge freedom and autonomy to his Sith kindred. Such things could be taken away, and by the snap of a finger. But he would teach this one, for he held a promise that if nurtured by the right hand, would reap wonders. To empower the young, and not castrate the lifeblood of an Empire. “You’ve mustered nothing. Nothing but arrogance and delusion it seems, for you have been given the means and the resources freely, but fail to recognize which hand provides these in abundance. Do not misunderstand, you have simply done your job Mavanger, a duty shared with the many others that have come to Kuat." Or would you have them excluded to flaunt personal glory? Exodus nodded genuinely towards apprentice Kahla for her efforts in battle, encouraging her victory for the next. Inquisitor Barca had laid the stratagem for the first round of contest between the fleets, despite criticisms, yet had stoked the flames of victory before the battle even truly began. Such efficiency garnered praise from the men that followed the beast, but even larger praise from the King himself. "..And yet, your hope is that I am to remember that you showed yourself, That you've done what is expected of you? ..Foolishness. You are strong, Mordecai. Your active presence has not gone unobserved, but you have much farther to walk. The Rebels weaken by the moment, and I have belief when you say they will be crushed underfoot. For that, you have my ear. Nevertheless, it is imperative that you become wiser than what you've shown, young warrior. Your poor choice of expression has proven less than the promise of your future, …Show me that this changes when you return victorious." The King shifted from his half-circle hounding, now disinterested in offering what he had come to propose to the promising warrior. There would be another time, depending on what side the human found himself on when the line was drawn in the sand. Exodus instead rounded towards the disguised Hutt, bowing graciously before the creature. The Emperor smiled something sinister at the stern of his bow, dangerous white-pearls stretching from ear to ear knowingly. "And you. Executioner of Jedi Master Sarna." Words fell from his mouth with silken satisfaction, snarling at the name of an arch-enemy, as he rose slowly to his full height once more. "Inquisitor Barca cannot take his eyes from the feeds of your brutish supremacy, he quite enjoys your style of aggression. Most would say they have missed it." Exodus hinted fluently, that he had indeed longed for the company of the insurmountable Krath, while adhering to the secrecy that the Hutt was maintaining. "You have honored the Sith, and the Empire in totality, with such pivotal triumphs against our sworn enemy." "LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!" As if signaled, the entire floor and audience shared in an explosive salute, every hooded figured, and every armored soldier, observing the great contributions put forth. "I myself, look forward to bleeding the fields of battle with you, shoulder-to-shoulder. It is time to bring our enemies what they have been dying for; an extermination the likes of which the Galactic Alliance would have begged for. Do not venture too far, the time draws near." "LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!" "LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!" "LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!" "LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!" "LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!" Hysteria and frenzy became infectious across the bay, heightening with the declarations of swift retribution. "LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!" "LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!" "LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!" "LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!" "LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!" Honoring the hierarchy of the Sith was a key ingredient in why this dominion had lasted as long as it had, eschewing the infighting that had collapsed every rule prior in short order. There were a great many that held significant power within the ranks, many of which Lord Mavanger had yet to face, or answer to if his hubris ever sparked an affront to the efforts of others. His journey would be long and difficult, but his careful considerations of choice would dictate how far he would reach within the emerging Sith Empire. Exodus would curate each and every fighter charged to his campaign, and for now, gestures of conciliation would last only as long as his patience allowed. The Dark King of the Sith Empire turned and motioned to move through the havoc, Thralls and officers of every nature converged on his march, procuring an unimpeded path to his departure.
    1 point
  3. “When I was growing up I used to think that they were just security experts, my Dad always engaged their services whenever things were getting rough or we were gathering with high profile people, but what I’ve been reading since I’ve had an actual security clearance is that they were retrieval specialists who relied on martial excellence and top tier gear to act as first responders and evaluators of Force anomalies, and retrieval experts for unique items and individuals. Lots of covert ops shenanigans. Sheeenaaaanigaaaans. Such a fun word to say.” Nyrys was giddy with her newfound fount of vitality, and emotion, and energy. She still felt the blackened patches in her soul where the abomination had torched her, but they were starting to fill in again. Her relationship with hunger had changed, and while she could develop an appetite or know when her body needed sustenance, there wasn’t the insatiable undercurrent of desperate desire that was once her near constant companion. Instead, there was a wonderful clarity of focus on the people and things that mattered most to her. She had thwarted death through her power and knowledge, and was certain that she could do the same for the people that she cared about. She had friends before she became a Sith, only a handful admittedly, and she had kept them at arm’s length to protect them from herself. At least, only a handful if you didn’t count the rather long list of associates with benefits that she had ended up with over the years. No amount of wealth or family status could change that she had been the alien at the imperial academy, okay for guys to sleep with but not to ever bring home to their families, or even openly act as a couple. She had reacted as exactly as immaturely as one might have expected her to back then, using her own feelings of rejection and lack of self worth to fuel a raging storm of bad behavior that torpedoed any relationship caught in its path. She had been unable to find her own happiness, and anyone who had was somehow to blame. Amazingly, sleeping with bigots didn’t actually cure bigotry, no matter how often and hard she tried. Through it all though, she had a small circle of friends that had been there for her through her various stages of pfaskery. People who were there for her at her worst, well pre-Sith worst anyway. She wanted to see them again, and it was easy enough to make the arrangements to have them brought to her. Sith ordered people the same way that normal people ordered food delivery. There were times during her dry spells that she had considered taking advantage of that for her own satisfaction, but she wanted romance as much as she wanted to get laid. Romance promised fulfillment of her need to be needed, her desire to be desired. She felt like she had that now with Ca’aran. In the past she would have obsessed over the uncertainty until it bred paranoia, but she was growing up now. “I want us to be a thing beyond just the pfasking and the dark rituals, is that something you want too? Think it over and come find me in the workshop when you have an answer, I need to get started on repairing my kit.” No manipulation, no sorcery, and no seduction. Just genuine honesty and trust. This was the best thing she’d ever had and she would kill anyone that got in the way of it. She gave Ca’aran a kiss and left the room, grinning and humming a tune. ---------------------------------------- The original workshop tools were mostly an eroded mess of poor aging and obsolescence, but Nyrys had expected as much and requested replacements be brought in with the first wave of supplies. She just needed some alchemical staples to get started. She spotted an idle slave and gestured for him to come over. He was a physical laborer, they had started designating roles on the slaves so that the least valuable, most easily replaceable ones were sacrificed first should sacrifices be necessary. She had actually been raised pretty anti slavery despite her father’s Imperial past, both parents had taught her that all sentient life was to be valued. Not everyone found their worth however. The slaves knew better than anyone why their roles were marked, yet this one had failed to improve himself or increase his value to the empire, even for the sake of his own survival. “Did you know that inside of you is a measure of greatness and power? Not that same spark that lets me break the laws of reality, but certainly an echo of it. A raging inferno can be started with a simple naked flame, and I have a lot of fires to start.” Darth Nyrys led the slave over to a runed copper basin and handed him a knife. Even armed, the slave didn’t register in her mind as a threat. He knew what would happen if he raised a hand against her. “I could just slit your throat and take your blood by force, but I wanted to give you the opportunity to give it to me instead. Pretend this is like the ancient days and I am a goddess, and there is nothing more important in your existence than appeasing me. I would be so very happy if you did that for me.” The slave cast panicked glances to the left and the right. She had heard that she had a reputation as one of the nice Sith. The label didn’t bother her, and it certainly could have its advantages, but compassion offered nothing but phantom comfort without greatness. So this man would die so that Nyrys could nourish and protect the ones that had risen above their destinies. She grabbed his chin and locked eyes with him, forcing her will upon his. She let this grand love that she had subsume and replace his cowardice and unwillingness to contribute to greatness, until his eyes and veins bulged, and blood trickled from his nose. A rictus grin overtook his face and he drug the blade across his throat in a rough, deep gash. It felt good to be treated like a goddess. This new form, this new legacy that she would build, deserved nothing less. Out of idle curiosity she stuck her finger in the bowl and tasted his blood. Nothing. That part of her was definitely gone. A new chapter then. She ignited the forge. The words would be written in fire, blood, steel, and sorcery. A smile crept onto her face.
    1 point
  4. Rebel Alliance Fleet Status: End of Round Three (Shields/Hull) Royal Hapan Naval Precision Strike Carrier Group |Coldstream| Taskforce Experience Green (1xp) O/C-Battle dragon class Cruiser: Ri'Aldech |0/20| Royal Hapan Naval Assault Lance [Kinetic Ram] |Kitchener| Task Force Experience: Green (1xp) O/C-Battle dragon class Cruiser: Transvaal |25/25| Royal Hapan Naval Heavy Brawler Escort |Zeeland| Task Force Experience: Green (1xp) O/C-Battle dragon class Cruiser: Victoria |21/35| Rebel Alliance Destroyer Group [Missiles] |One| Taskforce Experience Green (1xp) KDY-Victory II-class Cruiser L'Ouverture |0/0| KDY-Victory II-class Cruiser Gerrera |9/9| Rebel Alliance Heavy Brawler Escort |Fidelity| Taskforce Experience Green (1xp) MCS-MC90-class Star Cruiser Fidelity |8/35| Rebel Alliance Precision Strike Carrier Group |Taffy-14| Taskforce Experience Green (1xp) KDY-Nebula-class Star Destroyer Benediction |15/20| Mandalorian Neo-Crusader Destroyer Group [Railguns] |Akalenedat| Task Force Experience: Green (1xp) IPM Neo-Kandosii-class Battleship: Xaakzaamheid |25/25| Mandalorian Neo-Crusader Destroyer Group [Missiles] |Bes'bev| Task Force Experience: Green (1xp) IPM Neo-Kandosii-class Battleship: Nat’ah |25/25| Mandalorian Neo-Crusader Light Defensive Escort: Suppressing Fire |Cabur| Withdrawn Task Force Experience: Green (1xp) IPM Fane-of-Swords-class Frigate Vlissingen |3/3| IPM Fane-of-Swords-class Frigate Leeuwarden |0/3| IPM Fane-of-Swords-class Frigate Nassau |0/0| IPM Fane-of-Swords-class Frigate Vrijheid |0/0| IPM Jehavey'ir-class Assault Corvette Stavoren |2/1| IPM Jehavey'ir-class Assault Corvette Oosterwijk |0/0| IPM Jehavey'ir-class Assault Corvette Jaarsveld |0/0| ________ “There. L’Ouverture and Gerrera into that hole. We’ll break that damned ship over our knee. Thank the Mandos for their help, tell their supports to get out of there before they’re all dead, and give that bastard our finest.” Admiral Slaughter stabbed at a void in the holographic pit, as though poking at polygonal representations of his ships could somehow drive his ships any faster. But L’Ouverture and Gerrera seemed to have overloaded their engines, for they surged into a gap in the starfighter screens and engaged one of the larger Sith Star Destroyers at closer range. Fidelity fell behind in its coverage of the two Victory II-class Star Destroyers momentarily leaving L’Ouverture without the protection of their flagship’s heavier guns. This time, the barrage was coordinated with exquisite precision. The time-on-target volley from the two missile destroyers arrived nearly at the same moment as a salvo from one of the Mandalorian ships--Slaughter couldn’t even begin to pronounce its name. Tearing his eyes from the command pit for only a moment, he thought he detected an azure glow emitting from overloaded shields… and then that was extinguished when a squadron of B-Wings broke through its fighter coverage and strafed along its flanks. “Herlov’s shields are--” “Sir! L’Ouverture’s badly hit!” Slaughter didn’t need sensors to see what had happened to the old VicStar--no more than a kilometer away, the entire bridge was filled with the lightshow that was produced by the dagger-like ship’s demise. A horrific gout of fire tore free from the ship’s bow--a magazine detonation--and was rippling through the ship from stem to stern, tossing armor plates and turrets into the vacuum like children’s toys. That firequake continued through its engines, blowing out two of the massive cowlings free from the hull. Lights immediately flickered and died across the ship. A few batteries continued to fire, but those were either a last-moment attempt to empty a missile launcher’s magazine or the hopeless attempts of a trapped gunner to share his misery with the enemy. Even without listening to the damage report, Slaughter knew that L’Ouverture was dead. The ship was drifting as a black hulk and fires were blowing through the hull, spreading from where she’d been hit. For the old Star Destroyer, all that could be done was to evacuate as many crew as possible. This was going to be a costly day.
    1 point
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