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Showing content with the highest reputation on 09/23/2022 in all areas

  1. Apothos accepted the hilt of the lightsaber, something that might have been a smile on his face. How interesting that out of every Sith here, it was him that Inmortos handed his weapon to. There was something in that, something that might be of use later. But, as Apothos had said before, now was not the time. "I must agree," he said to the armored Sith who'd suggested that the group get a move on. "We leave now." With a lurch, his cobbled mechanical throne stomped across the metal floor, magnetized feet keeping it from rising off the ground. With his movement being handled by the basic subsentient mind of his chair, cobbled together from fragments of droid processors, Apothos was free to use his own mind for other things. He extended his sense of mechu-deru into the system around him, and was immediately assaulted by flashes of alerts and alarms coming from all over the station. He did not see the code itself, like a computer might. He only gained an impression of the information running through the system, much as how seer might sense events halfway across the galaxy. It was not technological skill, but simply an esoteric form of magic. The station was awash in confusion, even in the datastreams. Apothos sensed mangled code and garbled commands from some catastrophic malfunction, and for a moment he was lost. However, he sorted through the impressions, examining each carefully, until he spotted what he needed. Security alerts, notices of damaged turret emplacements, calls for droid reinforncements. In Apothos' mind, the alerts painted the path that the Sith had taken to get here, and led to where they had no doubt landed their ship. Apothos' chair picked up speed, full on sprinting down the halls. Any turret that managed to target him was assaulted with garbage code, and any droids that stood in his way found their maglocks suddenly deactivating. Apothos was back in his element. He raced towards his escape.
    3 points
  2. Upon a vision of the Galaxy's swirling vortex, they weren't even a speck of the cosmic dust that could be combed through. One would have to have prior knowledge of region, sector, planet positioning from the system's home star, and planetary grid coordinates just to pick up the enflamining space station as the atmosphere of Nespin threatened to swallow of it up. But to look through the Force, one could see the center of the darkened storm growing from its location no matter how the magnification. And within its calm and serene center, sat this group of Sith from all walks of life and afterlife, Dictum there to bare witness and testify. Whether philosophy, or designation, or whatever topic was mentioned in this moment was of little consequence upon the Force's itinerary. For in this moment, they made it their will with concentrated power, the outcome no different than what they allowed. They were Masters of their own destiny, and the Force was only a mere pawn. For this was the truth of the Darkside, the truth of the Sith, and not even the Jedi could do anything to stop it. As the others came to agreement of exiting the station, Dictum's gaze shifting between each as they spoke, he simply nodded when it came his turn to interject. The vacuum of space was on the verge of threatening their livelihood and the dead stood upon the precipice, guiding them to safety. As the others began their trek, so did Dictum, using the Force filled hysteria to propel himself, a simple and yet complex unification of push versus pull, and allowing those with weapons to handle the onslaught of opposition. It wasn't until they had nearly reached their destination when a familiar sing-song presence reached out to the young Sith, causing his momentum to stop if only briefly as curiosity took a momentary hold upon his psyche. There, within the confines of barracks, hidden within a tucked away locker were his things, a memory of his own arrest flashing back through his mind. Upon Alpheridies, a former member of the Luka Sene with silver hair folded away atop his crown assaulted the Orligaric Council with twin Sith Swords that ached for their deaths. Shaking the moment from his mind and focusing his rage, Dictum called out to their blades and what remained. When the group arrived at the ship, Dictum would be in tow, his possessions reclaimed.
    2 points
  3. The umbaran mechanic nearly jumped at the sound of the metal that fell from above, even inside his protective armor. The crosswire beam echoed throughout the hangar, making the slaves who were working jump, and even their slaving masters had to pause before getting the slaves back into gear. “Well, not what i expected, but not bad” Qessax whispered into his comms, confident that what had just happened was because of his team mates. He had a sneaking suspicion it was the Force users, but he wasn’t going to admit that yet. The Umbaran mechanic, sufficiently distracted, went to investigate the fallen metal. Once he found the piece, he began to scan above, making sure there was no risk of any further potential accidents. Still, the slavers were disturbed, and more then a few slaves were taking advantage in the lull of enforcement to take a break. Some of the slavers had lost all focus on the slaves and were glancing around. Something was off. One of them was even leaving the slaves under another slaver's care to investigate the area. Nobody could pinpoint it, but something felt off to them. “Vangar, i believe you should be near the command station by now. I’m transferring some of the security codes to you. Hopefully, they can open the doors, but I can’t say anything about the men inside. My guess is their leader is getting ready to start the ship up soon.” Little did Qessax realize how true that was. Even as Tyr sipped at his drink, one of the mechanics alerted him it would only be a few more minutes before the engines were operational. “Hold on…” Qessax breathed into his comm, raising his sensors up to his eyes again. “Looks like we got some slaves making a move from their group. Tilt, they are moving in your direction. You boys better hurry up whatever you are doing. We are close and i don’t want to muck this up now. If they make too much noise,…” Qessax didn't want to even think of the consequences of failure of stealth. ____________ Tyr congratulated the mechanic nearby for a job well done. A promotion was incoming for everyone, that was for certain. Once the engines started in less then ten minutes, the ship would be maneuvered towards the planet and within their fleet of smaller craft for protection “Sir, two of our drones just went out. I’m not sure why…” Tyr furrowed his brow. The last known location of the drones were very close. Too close. No, he was not about to lose his promotion. Not when he was this close to perfect completion. “Get some men up here to check it out. And seal the bridge. I don’t want a stray mynock to get in here and muck everything up. No, not the blast doors, just seal it tight, as a precaution.”
    1 point
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