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  1. In Rieva’s line of work it was always best to assume that one was always being watched. You never knew who could be sneaking up and checking in on you; officers, thieves, nosey neighbors. The possibilities were endless, so it was best to cover your ass. That started with a good security system and a secret basement that no one aside from her knew about. Not even her closest colleague. Never trust anyone but yourself, that was her code, and she stuck by it. Rieva was working in the basement when she heard sounds coming from upstairs. Nothing incredibly loud, but noticeable enough for someone used to the sounds of light pitter-patter on wood flooring. How curious she thought as she gently set down the painting she’d been wrapping up, closing it safely in her safe. She was wise with her safes, opting for the blending-in approach in the hope that people would overlook it, and many did. There were a lot of naive fools who called themselves ‘thieves’ these days. With the merchandise safe, Rieva made her way up the stairs, hand hovering over the pistol on her hip as she listened through the wall. Definitely footsteps, though not close. She felt she could safely slip out of the stairwell without being seen. Though waiting was a good option, just to see if they were clever enough to see past the bookshelf ruse, seeing the look on their face when they realized they weren’t alone would be priceless, she was sure. So she stepped out, quietly closing the bookshelf behind her, and crept her way toward where she thought the person was. ”If you’d like to see the art, you’ll have to come back during business hours”. The words slipped past her lips in a mostly professional way, though the sassy ‘I just caught you’ sass was definitely lingering in the air. She was ever vigilant of the person, eyes scanning for any potential others who could be around so she didn’t end up in a trap of her own.
    3 points
  2. Feline eyes gazed unmoving from beneath twisted locks of unkempt brown hair. The Sith watched the man both in the physical and within the force. The forest floor drank deeply of the spilled blood, but the Huntress stood unmoving. Warriors, especially those of the Bersærkergang, were notoriously unstable. They raged like toddlers after a confiscated sweet. She let him rant, her eyes drifting to the spiders that clawed at the dripping blood, tumbling and tossing like spent leaves in the summer wind. The Sith Huntress took in the rage, its unusual and deep rhythm, melding herself to it. As he stepped, so did she. Calypso had spurned him, and it was easy to see why; Rage and pain were mindlessly boring. So easily manipulated. So easily removed. Blood dribbled down his chin like a tearfall. Her own rhythm desired to taste it, to take in his lifeblood like a portent of death and dispel it into the songs of entropy. To quiet his blood. She pressed into it, embracing and drinking of his pain. She let his ranting hang a moment upon the breeze, unanswered, savoring the complexity of the emotions. Shapash quivered thinking of grinding his sinew, tearing that vibroaxe and blade to atoms and scattering his viscera upon the steps of the Black Pyramid. The spiders began to prance, and Awenydd scooped one up to calm it, her nail-bitten fingers finding only air and delusion. She spoke through whispers that curled across the wind to find the Sith’s ear from a hundred directions; from the creaking of treebranch, the rustle of leaves, the babbling of fountains and from the bending of moss beneath his feet. “You find yourself alone, that is the reality of it, no matter your victories over paltry nonsentience.” There was a haunting and depressing finality to her words. “You say you desire power, and yet you’ve built a horrible dungeon about you on all sides, heated by only one anemic furnace.” Her hand passed before them, illuminating the spilled blood and the echoes of spent rage and pain. “Rage and pain produce no light at all, but rather a vicious darkness that only serves to discover sights of failure." Awenydd stepped, leaning down to run a finger through the blood that now darkened the moss between them. She brought it to her lips, letting it pass over her tongue to bind it to herself. Smoke curled from her sanguine smile. Haematomancy; and into his blood she poured her own tales of wrath. The wounds that drove her to corruption. To power. She drove the pain and rage from him like a whirlwind. Her mind moved to Myrkr, and those bitter years of deprivation. The first lesson would be in the basics. “How do you connect to your power, Fiochmar, when all your pain and rage is spent. How do you find the Living Force?”
    3 points
  3. Apothos wandered the wasteland, a withered neimoidian in a cobbled mecha-throne. The cold wind whistled around him, and he seemed as alien as anything in this desolate landscape. Why he remained, though, was simple. Opportunity. A Sith gathering. A new galaxy. Power, ambition, and uncertainty all colliding in a single, rare instance, a fulcrum on which the future of the Sith would turn. It wasn't Apothos, but the conniving Nok that saw the potential for such an event. The paths of so many powerful and hungry individuals crossing represented possibilities that could be exploited, and the former criminal knew how to smell out that kind of prospect. It was his sense of the Dark Side that lead him here, to this otherwise unremarkable patch of desolation. He'd sensed the pulsations of power like watching the ripples in a pond after a rock was dropped in. Here was the epicenter. And there...that little figure was the source. "Hello, little one," Apothos croaked.
    3 points
  4. Tygo heeded the Lord Commander's orders and sent a short range burst to the Bekenden, a number of whom rapid repelled from their perches to further encircle the trench line. With calm precision the prince and his Haulanz pressed along the enemy emplacement, coldly dispatching the remaining opposition. Resistance wilted as they swept through the fortifications and tunnels, ever tightening the noose. The Bekenden were trained as urban hunters, and the trenches and bunkers translated easily to the narrow alleyways and enclosed spaces that they were used to fighting in. The Bekenden were soldiers of grim aspect, monsters that outlived the tyranny of their masters, but they were now sworn to the light all the same as Edsbryder itself. They were living proof of a way back from the darkness, which made the situation on Falleen all the more irksome. The soldiers they were fighting were victims of Sith indoctrination, who until the arrival of the Sith had led normal lives. When treating the Sith blight upon the galaxy, sometimes amputation was necessary, but Tygo had never fallen in love with the image of blindly destructive hero. This was why he was so dedicated to the destruction of cults, every false prophet and dark priestess that he slew would preserve the light for countless lives. They would save as many as they could, but for these poor fools, there was nothing left for them but the firm cut of justice's blade.
    3 points
  5. You have no kriffing idea… Fate started to say when she overheard the Jedi’s comment. You haven’t had to deal with the lack of food, the crumbling ruins, the radiation zones, and those cultists that scream their heads off for a dang plant. The two pushed on until they came upon a deep crevasse. The cityscape of the planet had several crevasses like this one, all built for letting ships and speeders into the lower levels of the world. Miles wide in diameter, the only way across the impossibly deep pitt was a long narrow bridge, complete with a wider area for a broken turret station in the middle. The bridge was more than just worn down. Its durasteel railings had fallen off long ago, its floor plantings partially melted, and its supports corroded to the point that the thing swayed with its own weight. Under the acidic rain, the entire thing groaned, threatening to break down at any moment. Like a suspension bridge missing its wires, so did this bridge miss its sturdiness Despite the uncertain structural integrity, a single figure stood on the bridge, undeterred by the potential of falling to his death. Instead, under the raining acid, the figure stood stoically and unmoved, wielding an electrostaff in its hands. Its shoulder plates had been completely melted away, revealing muscle and nerve bundles burning and regenerating under the rain. This Gen’dai had been forgotten to time, stored in a cage for thousands of years. In its loneliness, it had lost any semblance of sanity. And after the Sith attack, it broke free and found this place. Now, only one thing mattered to it: The Bridge. After studying the figure for a moment, shield over her head, Fate looked across the crevasse. She could see what vaguely looked like a domed enclosure, no doubt the place the Jedi was wanting to get to. She could even see the outline of what looked like a ship. Her one source of hope to escape this wreckage of a world. YES! Fate shouted in her mind as she rushed forward. She had no idea what the figure wanted, but the possibility of escaping was almost too much to resist. From his position at the center of the bridge, the Gen’dai raised a hand to halt her and the Jedi. “None shall pass!” his voice boomed over the pouring acidic rain. “Approach further, and die.” Fate stopped in her tracks. Kriff this stupid piece of... she wanted to swear. She glanced at Vox, unsure what to do. The bridge was the only way across, and with the acid rain, finding another way around would be both exhausting and dangerous.
    3 points
  6. Solus and the Polyp changed their gazes to the one who called out. In doing so, the polyp began to flicker in and out of existence, losing the focus and thus the connection of the Shard. It only held on barely by the energies it had absorbed from its creator. Without focus, it had no power. Solus gripped his metal hands tighter at the sight of Dictum. Words flashed in his memory, and Solus’ voice box emitted several growling notes. “Where is that piece of filth, Blind one?” Solus shouted back, uncaring about pleasenries. Then he felt it and saw it. His master’s presence of darkness and pain and hate. The taste of Korriban was now before the Shard across the snow and ash. “The proof?” Solus gawked. “You die and spit in our god’s face and ask for proof of my accomplishments?” The polyp in the sky began a gutteral screech, a representation of the growing anger in Solus. It began to circle in the air, its eyes never leaving the shard’s master. “The warship’s weakness will never be the knowledge of its joints and engines. No one except us knows its codes for destruction nor its methods of power supply. And no one except me knows its true blindspot!” Solus, in his anger, had recounted several technical details that only those with the plans could possibly know. To be fair, Solus did not have the plans on his person. He made sure to erase every last one on Falleen, and every high ranking cultist died at either his hands or during the Imperial cleansing. The only plans that existed were on the ship itself. But both Solus and, hopefully, Akheron knew that the Shard had a knack for remembering the smallest of details. “It’s greatest weakness is still it's only weakness: It’s Lord-Captain, a pretender of the ages. You may have once been my master, but I am your elder! A thing beyond the ages, and the one who will witness the final death. Behold!” Solus gestured to the Polyp in the sky. The thing screeched and bellowed at the gesture, the Madness leaking in the Force from it like black ichor from a wound. Its flesh began to bubble and boil with unseen heat, and its eyes, barely connected by nerve tissue, almost squeezed out of their sockets. “EMLESH BEOSTA!” the thing screamed, the impossible geometries shuddering momentarily. “I am a student of the Flesh beyond Stars! Maker and seeker of the ending aeons. Timeless and endless! Observer and destroyer. Scholar and Dragon. Solus looked back at his master, and flickered his gaze to Dictim and Bernon. “The Blind one once told me that to become a Sith Lord, I must slay my master.” Solus said these words still looking directly at Bernon, communicating the tasks ahead for the apprentice of Innmortos “And these words were a reflection of my own father’s tutelage.” Photoreceptors looked back at Akheron. A metal finger flicked the lightsaber on, its red blade hissing to life. The wind around everyone picked up, as if it could sense what was coming. The Shard’s cape began to flap with it, piece of broken yellow from Falleen. Above, the Polyp circled closer, awaiting for its creator’s rituals, undeterred by the air. “Is that what you meant by the next step?” Solus hissed through his voice box as he gestured with his open and towards Akheron to attack. “Shall we break my last chain by breaking you?”
    3 points
  7. Bernon Mrrgwharr had finally finished fighting, but there were more things it seemed he needed to attend. His Sith Master was gone for now, and he would look after the place alongside the other Sith until he returned. His secondary Sith Master Darth Akheron had an insubordinate Apprentice to deal with. He should follow him and watch, he thought. After all, he would learn from both of these Sith during the encounter. He sheathed his Limnal Blade and followed Darth Akheron, and while he did not know if Darth Dictum would follow or not, it didn't matter to him. If he chose to learn from this than good for him, or perhaps he had nothing to learn, whatever the case, he was his own man, and Bernon was focused on his own training, not Darth Dictum's. He followed Darth Akheron until he stopped near his Apprentice. The Apprentice Solus was formidable, and it was possible he would fight his Master. However, he figured that it would be a lesson for Solus, rather than a victory. If he planned to fight a Master Sith Warrior in single combat whenever he was an Apprentice Sith Assassin, it was unlikely that he would find victory. However, he never knew what the Droid-Sith was capable of. He chose to stay silent during the encounter, this was not something he should intervene in, unless ordered to do otherwise. He watched as his secondary Master spoke to his Apprentice, and he waited to see what would happen during this encounter. While he waited and watched he also thought to himself, as he often did. He began to wonder if his Master had approved of his prowess in battle against the spirits. It should never be too hard for a Sith to fight undead spirits, however, he was an Apprentice, and he tested his blade against theirs. He could only hope that his Master approved of the way he fought, and his success in battle. He had been hit during the battle, however, he was still learning, and he would make sure that he did not repeat those mistakes once more. He would contemplate on his failures and his successes, because if he didn't, he would not be able to improve, and he would repeat those failures again. He hadn't been paying attention too much to it recently, given all that had been going on. However, now that he was less distracted, he began to notice the cold temperatures here. It was slightly uncomfortable, but he was tough and hardy, it didn't cause much of a problem for Apprentice Bern. He began to also contemplate on his transitions to becoming a Sith. He started out as a mere man, trained in the art of a mercenary. However, he had found out about his Force Sensitivity, and he had, unlike many, chosen the path of true power, the Sith. His ideals and personality fit in with them. He had transitioned not just mentally in the knowledge he gained from the Dark Book. He had also transitioned physically. If someone who knew him before looked at him now, he would be unrecognizable except for his formidable physical strength and size. Everything from his eye color to his skin coloration to his hairstyle had changed. It truly showed that he was no longer just Bernon Mrrgwharr the man. He was Bernon Mrrgwharr the Sith, and he allowed himself to feel pride for that.
    3 points
  8. At the words of the woman, the Wookiee bowed his head once more. He acknowledged the responsibility that they now undertook. As caretakers and stewards of a galaxy long broken, it was their responsibility now to foster the growth and health of the world as the galaxy tended its wounds. He stood, bowing low to Master Kirlocca, speaking to him as he walked to join Sandy, "It was an honor to meet you, Master. I look forward to learning from you in the coming times. May the Force be with you." He then turned to Sandy, looking down to her as his mind raced. An opportunity was afoot. An opportunity to put his skills to good use throughout the galaxy, creating a meaningful and profound impact and acquiring no short order of knowledge from an esteemed Master to boot. "It would be an honor to join you, Master Sarna."
    3 points
  9. Sandy reached out and picked up the berry from the palm of the Tree Carer. It was large and a distinct grey yellow, but she did not hesitate to place it in her mouth and its taste was refreshing. She smiled and looked back at the two wookiees. She had something decidedly clever to say, but it was lost with the crackle of Kirlocca’s comm link. She leaned back against the wall and let her eyes flutter closed. Her voice was soft as she spoke to Kerriwarr, she wanted to learn more about him and his people, but for now there was something she needed to do. “The Grandmaster calls for our aid to banish this darkness. Though I do not wish to ask you for more of your help, if you can but observe us both, there may be much to learn.” The silent offer was there, if he wished he could delve further into the force as he knew it, or sit and observe the two Jedi Masters, such as they were after their fight, and attempt to aid the grandmaster from afar. Her voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper as she spoke. “First we must find our centre amongst the turbulence.” Death, destruction, violence. All of it sang out in the force in a horrendous cacophony of sound and feeling. The Darkside spoke through such violence, and she could sense its familiar voice amongst the whirlwind of the planet. It spoke through the actions of many sentients on this planet, though it spoke mainly temple and the fountains of blood that had been spilled upon its alters. It would take many years she knew before the last vestiges of that darkness were washed away. But that was a mission for another time, and she breathed in a breath of fresh air. Darkness would not hold to her, she had confronted it many years before, and joy, love, and peace would displace the malevolence that clung to this planet. “Find your cornerstone.” Those long nights now turned to day. She found her assurance. She found the source of her joy, that justice that would be poured out on this world like perfume from a bottle. “And push back against the dark” Like wax would shrivel and melt before a wall of flame, so would the creatures of darkness. She had buried their leader, and this world would be free. She could feel the bright hot presence of Kirlocca and Kerriwarr, of Leena her friend, and the new bright light of dear Keenava. Also shone forth the bright presences of the Sovereign Knights, and beside them her old and dear friend Kyrie Eleison. Her presence brushed against theirs and together she knew that they would overcome the darkness that infested this place.
    3 points
  10. Elliot staggered for a moment, but regained himself as the sounds and visuals of his experience ended. He turned to the old woman, grabbed the goblet from the ground, apologizing to her as he went to the counter to pay for it. She cursed him in an unknown language, and he felt ashamed as he paid her far more than what the goblet must've been worth to her. He threw it in his bag and hurried out, nervously looking over his shoulder as he hustled out, and back onto the street, in the bazaar. He looked left and right, and decided it would be best to not be so vulnerable with such an item in his possession. Turning on his heel, he walked briskly out of the bazaar to his speeder. He assumed his nervousness was visible, as he was quickly noticed and followed. Elliot could feel their eyes on him, and he paced his steps accordingly. Turning the final corner, he found the valet and sent him off to find the speeder. While he was off, he was cornered. He had been followed, yes, but by more than just one person. Elliot turned around to three people circling him. "Seen you pull up. Nice speeder you got, huh?" "Yeah, thanks," he said plainly, looking over his shoulder and setting down his bag slowly, "You guys waiting on yours too?" "Right, yeah, we are," one of the thugs laughed," That's a good one." "And the valet can get yours after mine, right?" Elliot said this plainly, and directly. The thugs stepped to him, but he narrowly avoided conflict when the humming of his speeder returned to earshot. The valet, joyriding the speeder, whipped it around onto the dock and, with a massive grin, returned the keys to Elliot and smiled down the men who had cornered Elliot, his hand immediately reaching to his datapad. The three looked off and wandered off into the distance again as Elliot was returned to his vehicle. The trip back through the city was quick, and Elliot took every inch of speed on his cruiser as he made his way back home, curving through the gates of his Imperial alumni neighborhood. His father, unofficially out of retirement, had earned a small manor on the new Coruscant streets. Gliding into the pad, he hopped out of his speeder and rushed back into his home, clambering through the halls, disrupting his mother, and into his room. He tossed the goblet onto the table, and he rummaged through his things, packing a bag as quick as he could. The way he saw it, one doesn't easily ignore what could only be described as the summons of a witch, especially when the life he currently led was fraught more with boredom than danger. He had enough credits, and he had a connection for a hyperdrive for sale. He was waiting for the universe to tell him when the time was right. He couldn't be any less sure if this was it, but he was so determined to force himself on his own fate it did not matter. He typed a message on the holonet and waited. The anonymous source for the under-the-table hyperdrive could be anyone, and he could get shot, robbed, or any number of things. Nothing he wasn't used to, but Elliot figured it would be prudent to take one of his father's blasters. He packed a small duffel bag and threw it over his shoulder. On his way out, his mother stopped him. "Where are You going?" Elliot stopped and was silent for a second before responding," Heading off world to see a girl." She shrugged, seemingly happy with the answer, and Elliot continued on, rushing out. He returned to his speeder and flew fast all the way to the private port for the families' of Imperial command. He took the lift to his father's hangar, and he found his ship. An old, old, X-wing; T-65 model with a custom black and purple paint job. It was Elliot's baby, and the only thing he ever could entertain himself with, now that his life was lavish and full of splendor. He approached, just as wide-eyed as when he found the seller, the ship now refurbished from the old piece of scrap metal it was before. It was almost ready for light speed, and Elliot was so close. He sent the message to the seller of the hyperdrive core on the holonet. Got the credits. Where can we meet? @Mavanger
    3 points
  11. Kirlocca was truly amazed at the healing that he got to witness from a fellow Wookiee. He'd never thought he'd live to see such a thing. To even know that the ancient and revered Tree Carers were still very much involved in their craft was a small relief to him, as his home planet has been the target of so many attacks over the past two decades or even longer meant that there was always hope. Always would be. To release such wounds and pains gave him even more comfort in knowing that he made the right decision in letting Raven's killer free. Peace could still be made out of the chaos. Letting a breath out that he was unaware he was holding in, he felt Leena through the Force. She was beginning to heal the planet they were on. He found it even more comforting to know that there were such great Jedi healers and many still found it worth specializing in. He wouldn't lie, he thought when Skye disappeared from the galaxy that the craft would die out, leaving room for more pain and sadness. Yet, the Force always wills it's own path and direction upon the galaxy, to which he was very grateful for. His own comlink went off, as Leena spoke about what she was doing, and what she wanted the other Jedi to do in joining with her. Letting himself fall into a more natural state, he closed his own eyes and reached out into the Force, pouring himself into it, allowing for his own light to radiate more strongly within the Force and pushing against the Dark Side energy that remained upon the planet. The cold and icy tendrils of the darkness that remained would soon be drowned by the collective lightside that was now beginning to grow.
    3 points
  12. “And so, when the stranger woke again, he walked into lost In-ho-tho-ta…” Solus continued his reciting as snow and ash blew about the Shard’s chassis. He had long since lost track of time, lost in the conjuring of stories he had been in. “And at In-ho-tho-ta, the stranger found all manner of beings walking and talking, but they all ignored him, like the lesser thing he was. For in his time, he had not grown fully.” Solus paused as he felt energy from the world swirl somewhere. This world clouded his senses terribly. He could still sense his master’s presence, but he could not tell where. Like a compass with a million magnetic poles to track, Solus was unable to mark a bearing for where his master was. “And so the stranger walked past In-ho-tho-ta, until he came upon the bony plains. And there, the whispering grew, until he found that which spoke in his dreams. That thing, that terrible visage of scales and bones and flesh and void…” “Beosta…” Solus stopped and looked around. Nothing greeted him but snow and wind and ash. The voice that had called out was barely a whisper, but it had been there. The very air had grown still around the Shard. Solus studied the area, and recognised it. So he continued. “...and so that thing spoke to the stranger, asking him his desires. And the stranger gave them. And that thing, in its burbling madness, began to promise those desires…” “EMLESH BEOSTA!” The Shard stumbled as the ground beneath him shook with the voice’s shout. The voice had become a storm in of itself, demanding attention. Abovehead, invisible clouds swirled. Madness began to trickle through the very air itself as the Shard looked up. Solus began to shake. There in the sky, where once were stars, numerous predatory eyes looked down. Where there used to be clouds, Solus saw tendrils descending around the world. Where there once was gentle blowings of the wind, there was now the unbearable weight of grating flutes. Where there once was void, there was The Spider… “Not…real…” Solus stammered, trying to hold the Madness back. “Not re-” “Redneterp!” the voice boomed. The planet shook again and Solus was forced onto his back. “Htoa ruoy otni evig!” The Shard shook as the Spider’s eyes became more prominent in the sky. It’s breath blew the ash and snow around him away like dust before a human, revealing the burnt ground below. It’s legs clutched the planet in an attempt to break it apart like some helpless egg. "Retsam ruoy nommus! Beosta, eman ruoy mih evig dna!” Solus reacted accordingly. The Spider had commanded, and he would answer. He raised his hand and gestured to the shaking ground before him. The rock broke apart, and upwards the thing began to rise “BLOOD AND ICHOR WILL FLOW AGAIN! EFIL EMAN RUOY EVIG! EFIL TI EVIG!” All of Solus’ being was conjured up and driven to the thing that grew out of the ground. Envy was the first thing to flow from the Shard, but certainly not the only thing. From him came anger, unrest, fear, and grief. The rage against his master’s heresy. The fear of being alone forever. The grief of never being wanted by his original family. Everything Solus had experienced from his birth was conjured and brought forth, and thrown into the Madness. Fleshy hands crawled over themselves. Mouths gibbered and screeched with abandon. Luminescent eyeballs opened up and met the Spider’s gaze. Tendrils extended and flailed wildly, blistering in the freezing air. Carapacic, clawed legs finally broke through the ground, lifting the towering monstrosity upwards. Still, it did not stop. The fleshy tower began to float, and scream and sing with the invisible flutes. The legs pulled themselves into the fleshly mesh, swallowed by large oozing pustules, becoming a flying, tumorous worm-like growth. “Eman ruoy evig! Beosta! Emlesh sommus! Maercs!” The Spider roared as itself evaporated away into nothing. In reality, nothing had happened. There was no cosmic being shaking the entire planet with its teeth. The stars were still golden pieces of light billions of lightyears away. All that happened was that Solus experienced another bout of Madness. The madness itself had been momentarily enhanced by the necromancer’s powers that traveled across the planet, and made the vision feel that much more real to the Shard, but it was nothing more than falsehoods in the Force, enhanced by Darkness. But this episode of Madness did have one physical effect. Solus had conjured up something. The illusion he had just given life to rose from the ground into the air and began to scream. With all of the energies Solus had poured involuntarily into the monster, the thing used to scream and make ripples in the Force. Once Solus had done this before his first ascension. And now, Solus did it through his Madness. To those who knew the Shard, it was easily recognisable. To those who didn’t, it sounded like the ear-piercing screeches of flutes and electricity. But most of all, whoever heard it could detect the madness the illusionary Polyp radiated from its core. Solus stood and screamed with the thing, gazing at the flying Polyp and the empty sky. Still, he saw the Spider looking down, making demands and shaking the earth the Shard stood on. And so, Solus, and the Polyp, continued to scream.
    3 points
  13. As the final spirit shattered into oblivion a cold stillness seemed to fill the room as icy ethereal fog rose up from the blood soaked coffin. It continued until, in moments, the room was awash in slick freezing mist that prevented any sigh further than inches past one’s nose. The force itself seemed to fog as well, lending an otherworldly cold chilled stillness to the silent room. The only thing that betrayed anything within the blinding darkness was a scrape across the stone floor followed by the soft gurgle of blood as something or someone was immersed within. A cracking voice rasped through mist, it’s tone otherworldy and tired. “The God-King of Death demands that those bound to him in blood maintain this sacred tomb until such a time as he returns to claim his throne.” For an instant, the fog seemed to lift, revealing a single frail shambling being with greasy gray hair hanging lose about it’s face, standing where Inmortos body had laid, but lay no more and then, in an instant, it was gone. The library materialized about the remaining Sith. It’s stillness even more overwhelming than the icy mists; but it too stood for but a moment, daring any fool to reach out for the forbidden knowledges contained inside. Any who did, would suffer the wrath of curses older and more sinister than the Sith Order itself. “Grow in the force and become a force of death and when the eternal Inmortos returns, the wrath of the Clan will be felt the galaxy over.“ the voice cried out. And in a flash, the accursed library and forbidden tomes were whisked away as if a great wind tore it from the pages of reality itself to be replaced by a great winding stone staircase that ascended upward in the flickering torchlight and oily smoke up into the base of Inmortos’ ziggurat. and then the voice of Inmortos carried across the wastelands of the world… “Blood and ichor will flow again. Souls frozen for all time.”
    3 points
  14. As the Shard’s demented craft broke real space high above Aaris III, it was met by nothing but an otherworldly stilliness. It was a stillness that seemed to carry an ethereal chill on an unseen wind that touched the soul. Below, the storm-ravaged barren world of dust and ash lay dormant and lifeless. Scans of such a planet told the same tale; there was naught but one lifeform, a single blip that sporadically seemed to appear and vanish across the surface of the world. For those that knew, the densely packed and slowly sprawling citadel of rising icicled towers and barracks stood; a deathly still tribute to a world that no longer was. The Aaris Academy for Gifted Beings; but, it too stood desolate and silent, sapped in subtle auras of darkness and death, of ice and shadow. Deep below the surface, within the frozen mantle of the world, a doorless, windowless funeral crypt stood undetectable from above or below. All that stood out in the room aside from the trio of darkness and death shrouded Sith was a single stone sarcophagus brimmed with boiling steaming blood; blood called forth from beyond the grave; blood bound across eternity by profane oaths and curses that aged beyond the dawn of the Sith to the origins of darkness in the mortal realm. The ravaged chanting of Inmortos was all that broke the stillness as he plunged his apprentice and fellow Sith’s spirits and consciousnesses past the veil into a realm of eternal destruction, despair, and damnation. From above, the necromancer watched through his third eye as his apprentice goaded the spirit of the fallen Akheron from it’s tormented hiding amongst the legions of the tormented dead, taunting it even now with his weakness until he broke free intent on the savage vengeance Inmortos knew the Sith warrior to be capable of. And chase he did driving Bernon before him intent on the slaughter until he was caught up in the darkness imbued honeyed words of hell that flowed from the lips of the assassin. Only then did the profane magics of necromancy stir, clasping the crushed and decimated body of Akheron, destroyed beneath the very world he had sought to rule. With a greet cry, Inmortos’ wrenched his body backwards, a demon-tormented fisherman drawing an invisible line as he wrestled to land a prized catch, condemning it to an unnatural existence within his domain of choking fumes and blinding pain. Tumbling to the floor, Inmortos released the hands of his comrades, thrashing and convulsing as the bridge between eternity and momentary, eternal and mortal was connected. In that moment, a great thunder rolled across the entirety of Aaris III, visible even from orbit. The gap betwixt life and death bridged and the tormented soul and form of Akheron were drawn back into the world of the living; an unnatural crossing against the flood of souls trafficked from life to death upon the River Styx. The blood within the coffin boiled, spilling over to soak the ground around it abd sloshing violently to coat @Bernon Mrrgwharr and @Lord Ōk Rägnär in scalding crimson life and death. The curse-bound blood sought to draw the life from them both and draw their souls into the eternal void. And as this happened the crumpled form of @Karys Narat iv-Adas materializing within the blood, the cursed bodily fluids filling his lungs and orifices with burning unnaturally stolen life; the lives of thousands stolen within the Baptism of Blood. And even as Inmortos grew still and silent, the powers of darkness having taken their toll, the bridge broke. Snapping into infinite shards of darkness that radiated from the world in pulses of unnatural green evil before vanishing, the bond between mortal and eternal was destroyed, swarms of angry spirits filling the room as they sought to exact revenge on those who had so callously violated the natural order; tearing flesh and rendering bodies they sought to simultaneously possess and consume all within the room, any exposure not covered in the blood of the ritual or the aura of the god-king of death himself. An unnatural scream filled the room, but it came not from the necromancer or from the hissing spirits. No; it came from the tormented and crushed form within the sarcophagus, from Akheron himself as he expelled the blood from his lungs and all the pains of death that had been laid upon him on Falleen were brought fresh upon his devastated body. He had life, stolen as it was; but the torments and healing of the wounds inflicted by the Jedi would remain alongside the mental agonies of having tasted of death and being wrestled from it, a testament to his damnation in both this world and the next.
    3 points
  15. People were moving all around the space port. Some panicked, others fleeing, while a few were still coming. Kirlocca walked through the streets of the port and watched the chaos unfold. It was not his first time watching such aftermath a battle turns. He could feel Falleen had turned, much like the Sith Lord had felt. The tendrils of the Force ahd changed around, releasing the planet from it's Dark Side tight grip. Death had taken a few, and it was enough to send the rest who remained loyal to the Sith cult fleeing from the planet. Now there was the short clean up work to be done. But not for the Jedi Master. Kirlocca was on a mission now, to find Sandy. He had not come to the planet to join in with the other Jedi. He had come from the beckoning of the Force, as he was too blind from his own grief over losing Raven. But now that he was in possession of a crystal that held her soul, the fight he had with the grief consumed Sith Lord had changed him. The duel helped him to overcome his own grief and to see why he had never held onto it in the past. His own life was a testament to surrendering his own emotions to the Force. To feel them, then release them. As he turned a corner, he both felt within the Force the presence of Leena, the Mon Calamari Jedi who was a healer, who might be the perfect one to help release Raven's soul back into the Force. He could feel Sandy, whom he trusted as a friend and fellow Jedi. But upon feeling those two familiar presences within the Force, he could hear the sound and words of Shyriiwook, to which he knew he wasn't crazy enough to be hearing his own thoughts like that. No... there was another Wookiee in the area. His eyes quickly darted the street to see what he would spot first. One of his fellow Jedi or the Wookiee he could clearly hear speaking...
    3 points
  16. It seemed that the fledgling was not as dispossessed of mettle as his first encounter had originally suggested. The squire was confused and scared, but that was the appropriate response to being in proper battle for the first time. Drawing a bead as he advanced confidently, he sent lancing bolts of crimson into the heads of enemy soldiers, flicking his blade to deflect any fire that was on course to hit him. Even as the edges of the enemy formation began to fray, desperation slowed the advance as they began to fire more often and more erratically. Tygo could hold his own against the onslaught, but many of the line soldiers and the squire would be overwhelmed without intervention. The inquisitor holstered his pistol and clutched at the threads of light that fluttered unseen beneath the veil of reality, raveling them around his hand in a circular motion before manifesting them as a blinding light in the palm of his hand, bright enough to cause those that looked upon it to flinch and recoil. Under the blinding aegis of the light, Tygo and his allies advanced to close with the enemy line in melee combat. Tygo made sure to position himself between the squire and any massed enemy fire so that the boy would not get gunned down.
    3 points
  17. Deep exhaustion clung to her skin like a vac suit. Where on her body there was not a wound, there was the deep ache of strained muscles. The streets were mostly deserted now, dark and filled with stark shadows from the few fires in buildings that had been struck by errant missiles and ammunition from the battle in the north. She took a strengthening breath, letting the force fill her, letting it touch where she was wounded. The long carved lines on her chin, shoulder, and arm glowing with the healing power of the force. The battle was won. Such as it was. The Sith were defeated again only a week or so since their last great defeat. And when Sandy breathed in again she could feel the presence of many Jedi and their Sov Knight equivalents. And one light presence only a few meters away from where she had paused. An alien but honourable mind and the mind of a scared child. Hiding for protection. She took a few steps and looked into the alleyway where she could see a large wookiee and a wounded child. Not exactly the Wookiee Jedi she had been trying to find, but she smiled best she could despite the blood that still seeped from the deep wound on her face. Her Gala accent only slightly showing itself. Alongside the tattered jedi tunic that she wore. “Well met stranger, what brings you from the shade of wroshyr to these desolate streets?”
    3 points
  18. Having silently played his role throughout the immensely violent and chaotic altercation, the Wookiee remained at the rear of the contingent of Jedi, watching as they had so ferociously permeated through the forces of darkness. New faces, and new names blurred by him reminiscent of walking through a cloud of buzzing flame beetles. Such chaos, and the sudden and complete divergence from his prior way of life left the Tree Carer nearly in a state of stupor, taking in his environment as a shell of his former self. Falleen was a cataclysm. A broken land filled with darkness. Such a wounded landscape was quite reminiscent of the damage he had spent a lifetime repairing on his own homeworld, harkening memories of the decimated lands of his childhood he remembered so reverently. Kerriwarr was struck as he laid a forest-green gaze upon the lands before him, taken aback by the wildness and wanton decimation of such innocent places and people. Such untold destruction would undoubtedly be matched by the labor required to restore it, and yet, it had far from reached its conclusion, for the great toil of Falleen had far from ended. Her scars not yet fully revealed. "Get her to safety!" The words snapped through the haze of the Wookiee's glossy disposition as he looked down to the two figures before him. To the Mon Cal from whom the words emanated, Kerriwarr only offered a silent nod. Reaching out and taking the hand of the child, he surveyed the immediate area, his gaze sharpened as the urgency of the situation enveloped his mind, along with the warm light of the coming dawn and the etheral invisible light which emanated from the Jedi around him. The Wookiee, despite being absent any formal instruction in Jedi combat, was indeed a warrior in his own right, and utilized his Wroshyr staff to great effect upon any who attempted to interfere with his aims, casting his foes about with a great ease as he guided the young child away from the fray and to a secure location. It was from this location that the Wookiee rested, tending what wounds he sustained throughout the incursion. So too did he nurture the child, doing his utmost to soothe the emotions of the little one as he once more looked about the foray of the Jedi into the darkness, a pillar of light thrusting its way through the firmament, into the remaining great vestiges of darkness on the planet. He would remain hidden until further prompted, gazing upon the great battle before him, awestruck by the possibility that he could soon be among the ranks of those bringing peace and prosperity to such an addled world...
    3 points
  19. As he entered the Library, he had finally come upon what he believed to be the last test. He watched as the Sith Lord was swallowed up by the Dark Book. Bernon Mrrgwharr was a Sith, and he had gotten this far, he would lose an arm for this power, a finger was nothing for this knowledge. Of course, he would sacrifice the most useless one. Entering his left hand's pinky finger, he felt the inner machinations of the lock move. The pain was excruciating, it was not going to be quickly cut. For now, he could hold in his scream, refusing to bend or break, and refusing to remove his hand from the lock. Not that he could, however, as his finger was locked in place now. However slowly it started at first, it began speeding up. More pain built up in him, the Dark Side amplifying such pain, but the pain would serve to make him stronger. The lock strangely cut his finger, the blade started on the outside, as usual, but it was an inward spiral effect, cutting his finger from all sides, rather than the way a guillotine would cut off a head, for example. It sped up until eventually, it reached the bone. The Dark Power seemed to sow his finger in a way, cauterizing the wound so that it would not bleed any further once it was off. A blood price was to be paid, but he would not be left to lose too much. The point of this test was to endure more pain and suffering and to test if he was willing to sacrifice for this power, which he was most certainly willing to do. It was not just blood price, it had a more metaphorical meaning than something as simple as just that. Soon, the finger was fully cut off, and the Sith Warrior could hold in his pain no longer. He screamed in anguish, for several minutes, until he finally came back to his senses. He wiped the tears of pain from his eyes. He had finally passed this test and no matter how many fingers he lost, no matter how much his mind anguished, he had become stronger, and this book would further that training. He had ambition, maybe too much, but for a Sith, too much ambition was non-existent. The Book soon opened as the lock accepted his sacrifice. And the knowledge, through Dark Sith Sorcery and Power, leaped, in a way, from the tomes, and gave the knowledge to him. It was much to bear, the full prospect of this knowledge entering his mind was almost too much. He had dealt with too many strikes to his mind and body, and he finally began to give in. He soon passed out from the pain. His mind was plagued with nightmares as his mind fully came to accept and understand the new teachings, and for nearly three-quarters of an hour, he anguished. But soon after, he awoke, his mind had taken in the knowledge. He now knew much more about the Sith, the Path of the Warrior, and the Wisdom of the Blade. It definitely was not Sith Lord-level training, but it was beginning, he was trained decently now as an Apprentice with this knowledge, and through future tests and training, he would gain the knowledge to become one of the Sith Lords. This was the beginning of him and his power. His physical transformation in the Dark Side was complete, his skin was incredibly pale, as well as his veins were nearly pitch black. His eyes were yellow, and his hair was gone. His left pinky finger was missing, he was Sith.
    3 points
  20. Her words passed him by like leaves in a stiff autumn breeze. He was taken aback. Becoming a Jedi with such swiftness was already a whirlwind of change to think of, but taking up arms and becoming a fighter like those he'd seen on Falleen? That was another matter entirely. He could barely process the escalation that had come of this incident, hardly registering his master's response to his query. A blighted field had gave way to a matter much deeper, but unfortunately, necessary, if he was to find his place among the Order. The Wookiees contemplative gaze was brought to a halt as his mind came to focus for mere moments as he spoke, all but sighing out the words as he became subsumed into his mind, "No, Master, I cannot say that I've given it any thought." And yet as he voiced his lack of thought, his mind was now ablaze, coursing with ideas and various notions, contemplating different designs and styles. What would he choose? How would he construct such a weapon? He could barely wield the Force, after all, in the way of the Jedi. How was he to complete one of their most sacred of rituals without even rudimentary knowledge of their methods? This confusion addled his mind as the Wookiee stared vacantly to the horizon, contemplating in nearly a stupor, the stress of the situation and the gravitas of Sandy's question being altogether quite thought-provoking for the newly-minted Jedi.
    2 points
  21. Fiochmar takes a breath and listens intently to the Huntress as she speaks. Knowing that yes his kill of the Terentatek was an achievement, but not the biggest game, no not the way it would be to one not gifted with the force. The Tsis trails fingers through his own blood, perhaps if he followed her footsteps, her path, the things she did, he might get a deeper understanding of what the Sith spoke of, so he raises his fingers to his lips and licks the blood clean from his fingers, noting rhe metallic taste, savoring it. "Yes Master as you say." Fioch looks deep within, channels the feelings, the rush, the thrill of the hunt. Connecting to it on a deeper level than ever before. It's as if the scents, and sounds of the forest became sharper, more clear, more distinct. His sight seemed to sharpen as well but that was not his focus now, no he had a task to complete. Than there it was, that heartbeat, small, frail, weak, petrified and panicked. Oh yes this excited Fioch to his basest level, the must primal and feral of instincts in him. The young Tsis licks his lips, feeling the blood lust rise in him, stronger and stronger with each passing second, as he revels in the panic, terror and sheer hopelessness. His fingers twitch near his blades and with sheer strength of will he resists using them. "I FEEL IT SO STRONG, SO POWERFUL, SOO...INVIGORATING, YES...YES!"
    2 points
  22. As the last of Darth Mavanger's closest allies and followers filtered into the room, the fulgurmancer shuffled forward, his body wracked with a fit of coughing as though the very notion of physical activity gnawed away at the man's corrupted and twisted flesh. He looked around, a wicked smile having taken residence upon his face. The fallen Darth Mavanger's body was carried off of the shuttle by no less than four troopers, struggling under the weight of the already large man's weight bolstered by his sithsteel armor. "Good, his body is intact. Even now, long after death, I can feel his rage. His hatred. His power. It is but an ember now, but it can be... re-ignited, so to speak, given the right catalyst." He placed a hand on the corpse's armored chest, breathing deeply as he began to chant. It was quiet at first as he wove his dark necromancy into the body. It was a talent he had hidden until this moment, though it didn't surprise Ralos. She had always assumed he had some way of reviving her commander. His chanting grew louder, and the smell of sulfur wafted through the hangar as the necromancer channeled his power into the body. Even though she expected it, it shocked her to see Darth Mavanger's eyes open once more. _____________ The first thing Darth Mavanger felt when he resurrected for the second time was the Force. The smothering blanket of rage and fury that perpetually burned within his soul. He had been so close to oblivion. So close to all this hatred being forgotten, lost forever. So close to true freedom. To peace. And yet, as he began to take in his surroundings, he knew that he had lost his chance. His ploy had failed- The Sith had found him even in the deepest, coldest vacuum of space. He looked upon the man who had brought him back, the blackest rage he'd felt in years filling every fiber of his being as he began to move, sitting up. "Darth Mavanger, Warmaster of the Sith, I command you to kneel before me" Darth Mavanger felt the trick as the command was spoken- The necromancer hadn't just brought him back, cursed him once more with the rage and anger that had become his very nature. He had woven a dark magic into the spell he had used to do so, one meant to control his body and his will. He rose, turning to face the man. He felt the confidence of the necromancer falter as he rose to his full height, wordless. He took a step forward, and the fulgarmancer took one back. "I command you to kneel, Darth Mavanger!" The first thing that the Warmaster had done when he rose had been to shatter the frail bonds the necromancer had tried to shackle him with. The spell had been meant for weak willed corpses who couldn't fight back. When faced with a Sith of greater power, who's very presence in the Force ate the light. Wordlessly, he lunged, grabbing either side of the man's head, pressing his thumbs into the other Sith's eye sockets, feeling the man's eyes give way to his gauntleted fingers. The man tried to grab the Warmaster's wrists, to send his lightning through Mavanger's body, but to no avail. He let out a panicked scream as Darth Mavanger's grip tightened. "Never again shall I kneel to another." Blood and viscera and brain matter sprayed across the floor as the Sith's skull gave way to Darth Mavanger's hands, imploding with little resistance as he threw the now lifeless, still twitching corpse to the ground, breathing heavily as he looked around. "Anyone else?"
    2 points
  23. Fiochmar was clearly confused when his pain and rage were removed from him. The look on his face clearly showed that much. He listens to the huntress and thinks a bit before responding to anything. "Alone...yes I know I'm alone...wasn't expecting to be. I still feel that taking down a Terentatek was a rather big victory." He resheathes his weapons as he takes in more of what the Sith has to say. The young Tsis feeling his blood flow as he reaches up to trace his trophies thoughtfully. "How do I connect with the living force? How do I connect without pain and rage?" Fioch repeats Awenydd's question to himself. He takes a breath closing his eyes focusing, thinking back on when he felt the first stirrings of the force the hunt always during the hunt. The particular memory flashes into his mind. Fioch is tracking a beast, a rather large one through the jungles. He's smiling reveling in the thrill of the hunt. His mind and thoughts strictly on his prey. He knows it's larger than him, and that it can crush him. But it's still his prey and he'll take it down. Moving quickly and silently through he spots his quarry and he can feel the stirring of something more within him. Leaping with his blades, the fight commences and he loves the feel of the blood and entrails they seem to bring him joy and power more power than he'd ever felt. Once his prey was felled he painted his already crimson face in it's blood before dragging it back to their home. "The hunt, the hunt is how I connect to it. Death of the week feeding life and power of the strong. The hunt is how I connect to the living force, yes yes the hunt." Fioch says with a laugh but it's more maniacle...perhaps crazed maybe. Fiochmar is learning more about himself and each step he takes brings him closer to the force.
    2 points
  24. His senses aren't fully as sharp as some others, his training had been fairly uneven up to this point, some of it his own fault, some the fault of circumstances. But he does sense her presence and his hands immediately drop to his vibrosword and vibroaxe! His mind at this point had already been reeling. In truth he wasn't sure what he was hunting for, just that he wanted the thrill of the hunt back. The rush and pain of tracking, hunting down, fighting, and killing at risk of life and limb and feeling the pain the oh so glorious pain of wounds inflicted from the prey. Though in truth he hadn't realized he enjoyed that until his fight with the terentatek. The words hit him and he first draws his vibrosword Cutting a gash across his chest reveling in that pain and the feel of his blood flowing. Fioch turns to look Awenyyd the Sith huntress snarling as he draws his vibroaxe too! "lowly, the beast nearly killed me, scars across my shoulder blades to prove it! It was my test to prove my power to be worth of being Mistress Calypso's apprentice! But I slayed the beastie! ALONE WITH NO KRIFFING HELP!" Fioch growls starting to pace back and forth. "Yet she abandoned me?! Why has she abandoned me?! I hunt well, I always get my prey! I'm strong!" he's yello and red eyes land back on the Huntress. "I don't know what I hunt aside from power at the moment and you well with your insult to my quarry perhaps I should fight you instead! Hunt you maybe yes?" Taking his sword tapping it to his cheek before slowly cutting down to his chin. "Or perhaps you think you can tame or break me hmmm? Maybe train me?" He laughs as he tries to put those feelings of pain, agony, betrayal and abandonment behind him.
    2 points
  25. The sith howled. The defeated man staggered forward. The blade was raised and being used to kill one of his foes in a blind rage. Ruin bullrushed the sith. Rage against rage, metal against flesh. As Ruin charged past everyone, he brought down his makeshift weapon down. The blade was already up to block and deflect the strike. Ruins arm weapon sizzled and the lightsaber cut through the metal easily enough. However, as a result of focusing on the arm, the rest of Ruin continued forward. The sheer weight and force of Ruin's body knocked the elderly man down like a corellian corvette knocking over a skyscraper building. Not giving a moment to comprehend the situation, Ruin roared as he brought his foot up. "Kill all Sith!" The foot went down. The head exploded like a melon. Ruin did not stop. He brought his foot up again and continued to stomp violently, ensuring that each piece of skull and brain matter were flattened into a thin paste on the floor. The floor boomed as the terror droid brought all of his weight down over and over again. Finally, he spun slightly and brought the remains of his arm onto the siths weapon. The lightsaber shattered as the terror droid battered it over and over, his own arm exploding with debris with each strike. Finally, Ruin slowed and stopped. He looked over the remains as if in thought. He struggled at first, but eventually dropped his arm on the remains of the corpse. Ruin turned to the others. "Blood and guts. Brains and bashings. Sheaths and holsters." The terror droid stated as he pointed at the remains, almost proudly. Fera clamered over her ward's shoulder, willing to translate again. >Ruin says that he believes all the sith in the vicinity are dealt with.< Ruin looked at the jedi and then down at the lightsaber remains. A glow from inside made Ruin kick it towards the jedi. The small sith crystal fell at the Jedi's feet. Ruin shrugged towards the jedi, indicating he had no idea what to do with it. Better to let a mystic take care of the mystical. >Agent< Fera buzzed. >Might we be able to access a repair facility? My ward's arm is beyond saving, but I'd like a place to operate on his inner workings<
    2 points
  26. The mummy-shrouded being that held the fractured soul of Inmortos and a thousand other souls stood silently. He canted his head as he heard the Shard’s mechanized words. He was not wrong, entirely. Aaris III had been sacrificed in a show of loyalty to a fallen Sith Lord, and it would remain a lifeless husk for all eternity. Before he could respond, the Shard’s former master responded. A ship full of lives had come indeed been sacrificed in the foolhardy venture of the Sith above the Alliance stronghold world. It had been glorious if not disastrous for the Sith Empire; just as the prophecies had foretold. Akheron was wrong in one point; however, Inmortos did have a ship, crewed by the very linnorms that had been cut down over Nar Shadaa; well, what was left of them at least. Their souls. “Such a ritual, Lord Akheron, I fear may destroy the minds of my brothers, for to share my wounds would be to share in the deaths of the legions that now flow through my veins like blood. The ritual to return you required much more than drawing you from beyond.” Turning his gaze to the shattered form of the Shard, Inmortos would have been smiling if it could have been seen. As it was, his voice contained a judgmental stereophonic laughter. ”But you are wrong Lord Akheron, for to be a Lord-Captain one must have a ship. Behold.” Inmortos raised his arms toward the distant citadel, her academies and zigguraut, underground chambers and more. The ancient pyramid of a long forgotten people ringed in soulfrost that rivaled durasteel, crewed by the souls of the damned, and powered by the very veil between life and death. From where they stood, Inmortos could feel the earth rumble beneath his feet. Great cracks permeated the frostbound planet as great ancient thrusters birthed the necromancer’s undead vessel from the death-bound world. ”Perhaps together we can reclaim my soul and rebuild our fleet.”
    2 points
  27. Aeon bowed at the words of Dictum. “How do I forget that despite your blindness, you see better than myself? First your words on my master, and now this! Fellow child of the Dark, your words once again ring true in my very Shard! How fortunate we are to have you amongst us.” Then the necromancer spoke. Despite his hatred he was currently experiencing towards the undead creature, Aeon kept his composure. The idea of speaking privately with the thing did not appeal to him, but he was still on thin ice, and needed to practice some restraint still until a more opportune moment came to pass. “Hmm, your idea has merit, oh great one!” Solus added, indicating towards Dictum. “The clan always needs more members of his caliber. Perhaps we can do an induction ceremony for Dictum at your ship, much like how we inducted you on Akheron’s ship. Of course…” Aeon paused and raised his still working hand to his face, as if in thought. “I don’t think we have witnessed your ship, have we necromancer? But you must surely have one, or is your title of Lord-Captain just a formality? Unless of course you think this planet is your ship? If so, then I'd love to see this fine, pale vessel in action against the Alliance! Haha!” Aeon laughed at his own joke, an effort to simultaneously lighten the situation as well as poke some fun at the necromancer.
    2 points
  28. Far above, the storm continued to engulf the bulk of the world, both the citadel/academy and the barren wastes of duned snow and crumbled mountains. Thunder and lightning arced and rang across the world interrupting the droves of windswept snow and ice. None kf that mattered however; not here, this far below. Here the chill came from something else. The stillness seemed to creep to the bone. The library, stores of dark tomes, forbidden sorceries, cursed objects and more seemed to stretch out endlessly deep beneath the surface of the planet. Ancient catacombs and frost-formed passageways that morphed and shifted beneath Sith sorceries and ancient mysteries teetered on the edge of reality as they twisted beyond the veil of death and back. Contained within the magics of the vast storehouse of forbidden knowledges and cursebound ancients, the vault of Inmortos remained, untouched and yet, trespassed. It was here that the assassin Dictum had returned to try and broker a deal with the god-king of death himselt. Spells older than the Sith itself, dark curses from beyond the edges of the galaxy, and malevolent wraiths bound in their pots and lanterns shifted in the still air atop the robe draped mummified remains of an unknown body. Dark icy auras, the call of death itself, seemed to emanate from the corpse. As the assassin affixed the bloodstained saber hilt of Inmortos, the spirits shackled within were torn from the great beyond and cast into the tomb. With hissing screams they erupted with the red blade as the saber seemed to spring to life. From the shadowy recesses of the unadorned burial chamber, the lurching servant of Inmortos seemed to materialize, a grizzled being of whose very life had been claimed and shackled; bound not in life, but in death to serve its god. The once high priest of Aaris III bound to a dead form no longer his own, an eternal caretaker. The dead form’s voice was barely a whisper as he laughed at the assassin’s words. ”You are mistaken.” he hissed as an outstretched finger pointed beyond the Sith Lord’s shoulder. There looming larger than life itself, as if to engulf the entire room, was the growing ghostly visage of Inmortos. His grotesque form barely visible beneath the ethereal blue of his cloak offset to a sickly black shadow in the glow of the humming spirit saber. ”Lord Dictum.” he spoke, his voice pained. “my soul is bound to this place and yet stretched across the cosmos. I am bound to the world beyond by oaths beyond mortal understanding and yet bound to this place. My work is not yet complete. Your service shall see its just reward.” he spoke of the Baptism of Blood that had drawn Akheron back from the tortured hellscape he had been cast unto. He alluded to the ancient spells that ensnared him as he had passed unto death and imprisoned him to this reality. Stretching out a rotted ghostly hand, the wraith moved as if to plunge it into the man’s chest, icy crystals materializing where ethereal and mortal met. A gentler soul might have taken its time, expertly carving a portion of what was desired; but not Inmortos. The existential pain that racked his body quivered even as his bony fingers clasped the very soul of @Lord Ōk Rägnär and raked across the surface before finding a spiritual crevice within his chest. The gnarled pointed digits of the necromancer, shackled to this world by magics that superseded death itself, pierced the man’s soul and with a heave that shuddered the entire burial chamber and beyond tore forth a shattered, ichor-bleeding portion of Dictum’s eternal soul. The visage of Inmortos seemed to flicker for a moment as pain unexplainable washed over the room causing spirit, shade, and shambler to cry out in pain. A mighty wave of unnatural necromancic energy toppled the undead servant who had been present in the room as it rocked the bedrock that contained the burial chamber itself. The former priest fell to the ground, his form crumbling to dust as it plumed into the air, a fog of death itself. The spirits of Inmortos’ saber shrieked before vanishing with the spirit that remained of Inmortos. The blade itself sputtered before it fell silent, the bloody coating drained from it’s now shimmering black hilt, the power of the souls and crystals that powered it depleted, drawn forth by the unseen spells that even now continued to wind their wills, bound to a path set forth by eternity past and future. And then, just as suddenly as the room had eruoted, it fell deathly silent. The tormented vortex of darkness replaced by a heavy frigid stillness that threatened to suffocate the minds and hearts of any ensnared within. As Dictum dealt with the physical and spiritual consequences of his soul being rend in two by the necromancer’s undead power and ancient spells, a shrouded hand clasped the edge of the stone sarcophogus, the deep echo of such a simple movement echoing through the very force itself as something was given unholy unnatural rebirth. Ever so slowly, the mummified creature within began to rise.
    2 points
  29. The blind neimoidian sat back in his throne, his sightless eyes staring out into space. "You look like death, Darth Sia." He paused, before an anemic chuckle escaped his mouth at his own weak joke. Then, he frowned, head cocked as if he could hear something. "Your rebreather...it needs attention." He looked from side to side, dramatically taking in the wasteland they stood in. "...and it doesn't seem like you have much in the way of help." Apothos extended his hand. "I can fix it." Like the tendrils of a deep sea creature, Apothos' awareness extended and touched inner workings of the jawa Sith's rebreather, although Darth Sia's own will immediately repulsed him. Mechu-Deru could only do so much when uninvited. "Let me in, and I can restore it for you." He smiled again. "Consider it an investment." Apothos would not lie and say that he could be trusted, and he doubted Sia would have believed him anyway. The question was, would the jawa see the opportunity here...or the threat?
    2 points
  30. She thought for a moment as they walked towards the large array of Sovereign Alliance vessels that were queuing up to take the many injured and exhausted soldiers back to the core worlds. She gestured vaguely to one of the mixed transports, likely one for injured refugees, and turned towards it. It would take them to the Agricultural world of Salliche, which the order had been given to steward. The ramp was crowded so she chose to wait in the long line. “I pose a question to you my friend.” She ran her finger across the scab that had developed along her jawline before continuing. “There are several planets that seem to be a consistent target for the Sith in their ongoing brutalism every so many decades. Why have your people not turned to rampant militarism as the once peaceable Naboo?” ((to space))
    2 points
  31. The towering plants of Felucia rustled as a dark blur loped through its depths. Calypso had been running for hours, the Force both guiding her and propelling her along with every step. Even though the jungle was quiet to her ears, to her sense of the Force, it was like moving through a thunderstorm. All around her, life clamored and howled into the Force, a riot of silent cries sent up by the overpowering flora. In time, she knew she would acclimate, but until then she enjoyed the sensation. She had felt something like this before, in the depths of Coruscant in its heyday where the deluge of sentient lives and emotions drowned out anything that the Jedi might sense. Here it would be the same, so long as she didn't draw attention to herself. The jungle would only hide so much. As if thinking about it conjured it up, she sensed a presence. A dark power, not foreign like her own but something else. If she was a blade cutting through the weave of the Force, then this was...an infection. Yes, something insidious and subtle, but present. And it was moving towards her. She abruptly stopped her rapid trek, pausing only long enough to gauge the direction this subtle feeling was coming from. Then she took off again, this time to meet what was coming for her. _____________________________________ There was little warning of her approach. Calypso had spent much of her life living in the depths of Coruscant, under the Jedi's noses, and if there was one thing her Master Darth Vilius had been good at, it had been hiding. As such, her presence in the Dark Side was muted, a dull ember of power where a star should have been. Even so, as she leapt out of the foliage and dropped in front of the native Felucians and their warped procession, she showed no fear or surprise. She could sense their darkness clearly now. It was unusual. Erratic. Something similar to the Dathomiri, but also something else. "You seek me," she said, no question in her voice. Her hand flexed briefly, and she allowed the suppressed channel of power to open a fraction. All around her, trees and other plants shuddered. The light filtering from above dimmed, shadows lengthening as the light seemed to withdraw. It was a simple display of power. "...Why?" She did not ask what they were. That would come later. Right now she simply had to determine if they were better off dead, alive and free, or in her service.
    2 points
  32. Leena offered a slow deep nod in return. ‘Grandmaster,’ the term felt so foreign, so distant, and yet, somewhere deep in her heart the young Mon Cal knew the truth. She turned and gestured silently, bidding the Lord Commander to fall into step with her as they moved into the awakening city ”There is much to discuss.” She began, forgoing any sort of formal greeting. The young eyes of the healer gazing outward as if they saw beyond the destruction that lay before them. ”The people of Falleen will require a lot of assistance. Otherwise they will fall into want and come to see their freedom as an affront by the new Imperial dominion.” Leena wished that the new Sovereign Alliance had communicated with the Jedi before beginning their assault on this world. They had caught not only the Sith forces of Falleen and her citizens by surprise, but also the Jedi who had been infiltrating the world in an effort to purge the darkness from within. “The Sith are apparently not gone from the galaxy.” Leena gestured to the shellshocked world before them as evidence of the statement. ”Even if their empire is driven from the galaxy, their wizards of evil apparently lurk in the shadows even today. The beast that ruled this land cannot be the only one. It was Sith who destroyed your Hell Vault Prison was it not?” she asked, half rhetorically as she continued to speak, their feet carrying them around the corner of another city block. “It is not a Jedi’s place to rule. We seek to defend civilization, justice, truth, and light. These . . . Sith,” she almost spat the word, ”slaves of despair and destruction, must be found and stopped before they can gain another foothold. The welfare of these people, the people of this new Alliance, rests on your shoulders Commander; the shoulders of you and your brothers. To keep them from the darkness. That is your oath, lest the new light that rules this galaxy become an oppressor’s flame. We, the Jedi, will stand beside you in support of this cause; but we are not bound by the same servitude. We are called to a loftier goal, a holy calling governed by the force itself.” Leena stopped as they came to a wide set of stairs that cascaded down onto a once decorative brick promenade, now scattered with boulders and craters. ”Even now, there are Jedi seeking the Sith in whatever shadows they might be festering. To find them, to offer them redemption in this life or the next, that is our task at hand. To strengthen and protect the weak and downtrodden is our goal. And so our tasks are not mutually exclusive Lord Commander. As long as we both remain in the light, your Knights will have a friend in the Jedi.” Beginning down the stairs into the rising sun, Leena turned to look @Raphanel in the eye. “From here, I am called to the healing of a single ragged soul and the construction of a sanctuary for the Jedi and those who serve the cause of light; to heal, test, and equip those who safeguard all peoples of this galaxy and beyond. And what of you my friend? Where will you go next? Would you join my apprentice and I as we journey to the windswept world of Ilum?”
    2 points
  33. His voice was surprisingly soft after the last hours of active combat. Barely above a whisper, so that only those beside them would hear and there would be no embarrassment upon Piotr or his house. “Turn your sorrow and regret into resolve.” His bright blue eyes looked at the rising sun that had pierced the heavy cloud cover. A beam starting to creep across their small gathering showing the steam of condensation drifting up from their armour, as the cold morning air began to move in a breeze. “Resolve that we will not ever allow this to happen again. It will not erase the regret, that bitter sorrow that comes with death at your hands. But having an objective will help begin the process of healing.” He stepped forward and pulled the young man into a hug. A strong and supportive hug. This war for now was over, and the heir of house Malczewski would bear its scars. Adrienne stepped forward and when Raphanel broke from the hug she was there to give Piotr a hug of her own. It was time for the Knights to begin their investigation into where these Sith Lords the Jedi had encountered had come from.
    2 points
  34. Solus wasn’t absolutely sure, but he felt like he wasn’t being taken seriously by either Dictum nor his ex-master. He didn’t get any kind of response from them. They didn’t nod in approval, or condemn his speech. They simply didn’t reply. Solus’ rage started to flare up further. It was the stupid tree all over again. Then the thing attacked. The yellow splash in the Impossible Geometries Solus recognized as danger helped the Shard react accordingly, but barely. His own anger prevented him from completely avoiding the attack. The Shard leapt forward, narrowly avoiding a crushing leg, only to be sent flying with the ice. Solus rolled his landing, and turned his gaze upwards. The thing, the strangely spider-like thing, was power incarnate. It held sway over the natural and unnatural alike. It was born from that which helped birth his Madness, and had mutated beyond recognition. Solus believed it absolutely ranked with Madness in the Geometries. “Hahaha! Yes!” Solus laughed as he began to dart around the battlefield, avoiding another attack. “You have returned at the presence of your parents, haven’t you? You have returned for me? Hahaha!” The flying Polyp in the air completely vanished, no longer a focus for the Mad Shard. “Run!” Dictum cried, to Solus’ insane laughter. The Shard was too elated on his own energies to listen. Whether or not Solus was right about the thing’s motives did not matter to the Shard. Solus did not realize the thing couldn’t be controlled by himself or even all three of its creators. Solus’ Madness whispered in his ears lies and deceptions that, while he knew they were false, he didn’t care. Solus dashed forward, narrowly avoiding another crashing of the thing’s legs and the raining ice debris. As ice chunks rained down, Solus seemed to begin to dance amongst the chaos, striking poses between movements like some Desilijic servant girl. He only moved when a chunk was about to hit where he stood. The Shard continued to laugh, his vocoder blaring more than ever. Solus was actually beginning to enjoy himself. “And because one of your parents is wrong, you must kill all of them? Hehehe, yes, that makes sense. Yes! Yes yes yes! Attack! Clatter! Rampage, my sweet little baby! Distract and destroy. Keep the blind one and that necromancer busy while I end the heresy that is Akheron! Hahaha!” Solus finally stopped dancing long enough to focus on the fleeting form of Akheron. Activated lightsaber still in hand, Solus gave chase. Akheron had a decent head start, and his legs were smaller, but Solus was sure that wherever his ex-master ran, Solus would be able to follow. A thought flashed in his mind, both a teaching from the Temple of the Spider as well as his own training under Akheron. His prey was running from him. He was not properly armed, and at a disadvantage. The opportune moment to strike was now. He could not waste what the universe had given him. Solus tapped into the Force and willed it through his body. His circuits buzzed with energy. Some Force users called this Force Speed, but to Solus, it was simply pursuit. His form left a trail of afterimages rapidly closed the distance between him and his master. In a few seconds, his blade would swing across.
    2 points
  35. The Wookiee bowed his head deeply as she took the berry to her mouth. He could tell from her reaction its effects functioned as he intended. Almost simultaneously, he too heard the crackle of the commlink of the fellow Wookiee and the voice which emanated from it. He listened with keen interest, and as Sandy gave him directions, he bowed his head, capitulating as he withdrew to a meditative state of mind once more, his presence in the Force reflecting such as he began to - not entirely deliberately - flourish in its etheral light. Despite his eyes being closed, his observation could not have been more keen as he peered into their very spectral forms, watching as they poured their essence into the planet. His recognition of the words of the woman were not physically manifested, yet they were heeded nonetheless as he steeped deeper into meditation with her guidance and stewardship. It would undoubtedly seem evident that this, too, was something the Wookiee was somewhat proficient in, even if on a more primal, unrefined level than compared to the Jedi Masters before him. He began another rumbling chant in the ancient and mysterious tongue of the People of the Trees, singing to the grace of the Mother of Life and to the Seeds of Peace as his energy germinated, sprouting and swelling like the climbing branches of a great Wroshyr tree. In this midst of his ritual, the Wookiee attempted to heed the advice of the Master before him, implementing it in due turn as he cast his mind to a place of serenity. The cliffs of Mak'shyyr came to mind. A picturesque grove dominated by a wall of ivy-covered stone, with tranquil lapping falls and fragrant Orga flowers dominating the lapping waters of the pond at their bottom. It seemed only correct to think of such a beautiful locale by which to find his center, and guide the power needed to find the beauty of such a shattered, broken world. With the guidance of Master Sarna and the strength afforded to him through the use of his people's incantations, this ethereal tree began to sprout roots into the very earth below. Kerriwarr fostered his own connections as his presence swelled, linking with such esteemed presences upon the otherwise desolate world as their minds melded to one, coagulant force, blossoming into the very essence of the planet itself and purging it of its darkness. The roots of the Wookiee, seeping into the very presence of the planet, wound through its energies, finding its natural sources of light and illuminating them, like the drooping flowers of the Shi-Shok tree finally blossoming after a long and harsh winter, the Wookiee was the bearer of a warm spring light upon these unblossomed flowers, bringing forth the serenity of a new age of life and fragrance to the world - the Wookiee did not heal the planet, he gave way for the planet to begin to heal itself.
    2 points
  36. Bernon Mrrgwharr readied himself as the enemy wraiths closed ranks around himself. He unsheathed his Limnal Blade and held it out before him, in a fighting stance. He was excited and eager to test his new combat skills against such monstrous foes. The surrounding wraiths jumped at him three at a time. One clawed towards his neck, but his hand was torn from his arm with a well-placed cut from his Dark weapon. He sliced upwards at the next, cutting him down without hesitation. The third was a bit more intelligent than the other feral-like undead around him, looking to pluck out his eyes with its clawed fingers. Yet it was never, and it never will be, a match for a Sith. The undead wraith struck, and it pounced on him, right before Apprentice Bern moved out of the way and cut down upon the now prone enemy. This was like a combat exercise to him, and it was quite invigorating. He looked around for a short time to see how the others were faring. However he didn't have time to stop to watch the show, for he was in it. Three more wraiths moved on his position, each attempting to cut, prod, and grasp with their clawed fingers. They were sliced into, decapitated, and stabbed with his Limnal Blade, each falling soon enough. He was a bit more tired now, but he was a Sith, and these were feral wraiths, he would outlast them, he must outlast them. Another set of wraiths attacked, one holding some sort of spectral sword, however clumsy it was with the weapon, the sight of it distracted him enough to allow both the other wraiths to cut at his back. He grimaced in pain, then spun around to cut both down rather fast. The two being able to strike at him was his own fault, a mistake he would keep in mind, and one he would not allow himself to repeat. At least the wounds would heal, they were temporary, and reminders of what failure in combat offers. The pain would toughen him further, and it would drive him to succeed in a battle such as this. He let his passions take control of him even more than before, allowing his anger and hatred of the wraiths to become heightened. This would fuel the Darkness, and this Darkness would allow a Sith such as he to succeed. After a few parries and strikes, the enemy who was clumsy with the blade fell to his own. His passion invigorated him, fueled him, and his tiredness was almost no longer there, his stamina and energy had been refueled, and he most certainly was ready whenever the next strike came. He also was aware that his Master would be paying attention to this fight, and that especially with him here, he had everything to prove, so he would do his best in slaughtering these damned souls. The next group of three struck at him, and each had a spectral blade. All of them were still clumsy with the weapon, but now they all had blades, and they outnumbered him. It would be a real challenge this time, it seemed. After a bit of a drawn out fight, one of the wraiths lost his weapon, and his hand, then bled out. The next was unable to stand up to a flurry of blows from him, and his chest and neck were cut, striking that one down as well. The final one was the easiest, and he saved him for last, this one was killed with a stab to where his heart would be. He would continue to fight until all were put down.
    2 points
  37. A pulse, a blast, and a wave; each breath, each step, each ache, and each tinge of nausea mingled into one delirious moment. When the rite was done and the wave of cleansing dawn rushed from Leena’s body, exhaustion finally took Keenava, bringing her to the ground. It wasn’t gentle, but she managed to avoid serious damage by carefully aiming her body at a stretch of flat stone. When she made contact with the cold, dusty brick beneath her, she coughed, and her vision dimmed. Her head began to bob bit by bit, and she slowly lost focus as Leena's form faded away. Silence followed. The dust motes clinging to the surface of her eyes were a distant memory. A deep velvet black took her, a black interrupted only by two yellow wolfish eyes. A shadowy form moved in the black, though its movements were nigh imperceptible. Keenava sat opposite the ethereal form, with her alter, Lallu, sitting beside her. Lallu, an alter that had come to represent every other alter before, was formed from distinct traumas and trauma bonds that Keenava had formed throughout her life. Lallu inhaled sharply, anxiety writ across her face. And Keenava followed suit, though she was not anxious. You’ve failed. You’ve— Keenava’s hand shot up within seconds of the shadow’s speech. Cold fury oozed from the malicious gaze that he leveled at her, but he remained silent. No. No more lies. No more duplicity. From the moment I met you, you’ve lured and baited me. I was desperate—a traumatized plea away from doing exactly what you told me to do without question. You once asked me, Who are you? What do you want? Then you proceeded to answer for me. You said I didn’t have the answers and that you could show me how to find them. You inserted yourself as some kind of savior in my hopeless need for something beyond the limited scope of my understanding. And though you narcissistically pushed me toward the very same path you were warding me from, you were right about one thing. Who I am is something only I can discover. You dangled certainty beyond my grasp like a cruel miser, hoarding peace because you saw little use in it. What is peace when you’re a Sith? Why is peace important when strength is all you see? You said you could lead me to the freedom my heart craves and then imprisoned me, heart and soul, within the bosom of a world that shackled all who sought it. The Sith Code was and is a fragile lie, made to tether those to its misguided promise. Twisting nature to fit your whim only creates narcissistic bonds and twists the fabric of who you are to reflect your own misdeeds. I’ve committed patricide, homicide, arson, and any number of other hideous crimes in your name and in others. But none of it did anything except leave a gaping hole. Will you let me— No. You’ve had years to speak—almost a decade! You will let me speak, and then you will leave. Keenava cleared her throat and held Lallu’s hand. Lallu swallowed slightly, but her voice replaced Keenava’s. I told you that you were my friend. You were my savior. You were my lover. You were my desperation, my devotion, my love, my obsession, and everything I could have ever dreamed of. Lallu was almost on the brink of tears, but she didn’t move or hesitate. You were the only man I could ever trust. You were the only man, woman, or being that had ever shown me anything close to kindness, outside of my mother and my sister. And yet you constantly pushed me away. I ached for you. I yearned for you. And maybe that chased you further away. But I didn’t know. I didn’t know until now. Love is a power, but it’s also a weakness. The vulnerability I showed to you opened me up to all sorts of repercussions and to so many feelings that I hadn’t felt in a long time. But, unlike the monsters of my past, you never took me. Every time I followed you, obsession writ across every feature, you never physically used or abused me. Not once. And for that, I am very thankful. But I didn’t realize your torture was ever more malicious. Your words cut so deep that I couldn’t find who I was beneath your lie. I used to think you were the most extraordinary man I had ever met. But now I know. Lallu looked at Keenava with a feeling of deep sorrow in her ruby eyes. Keenava nodded and grasped her hand a little harder. The shadowy form attempted to speak once more, but this was Keenava’s mind. Furion would have the power she let him have. If she let him have any at all. After a moment of letting her tears fall in silence, Lallu continued. Your response was: How can you expect me to love you more than myself? I was devastated. Not a second went by that I didn’t play that moment in my head again and again, hoping for another outcome. But it never came. That fantasy that I held onto for so long was so much dust in the wind and would never coalesce into the picture I wanted it to be. But the tumor of pain, loss, and obsession you fostered through the darkness took root. I couldn’t ignore the searing reminder every time I touched the force. Every time I tried to take anything for myself, you were there. Because the dark side is pain. The dark side is shame. The dark side is regret. Only when I was freed from that agony could I see any hope of redemption. Maybe you did me a favor by rejecting me, allowing me to see beyond you. But you don't deserve to be recognized for incidental victories. And while my feelings for you may never truly be gone, I can say with certainty that you have no power over me anymore. Lallu’s face was thick with tears, but her eyes were cold. Keenava nodded with a warm smile, continuing to grasp her alter’s hand. A beat passed, and the three of them sat in silence before Keenava and Lallu fused. A wreath of light passed over their forms as they joined, and Keenava almost started crying as the residual feelings poured into her. But she maintained her composure. The Furion form stirred, still fighting against his muzzle. I have another chance—a real chance. I get to choose my destiny and who I want to be. I hope you are okay wherever you end up, but I have no further thoughts for you. With a wave of her hand, the Furion specter disappeared into the black. A memory of her and Si Si playing together as kids replaced him. Keenava looked on, deepening her warm smile and let herself glide gently into sleep.
    2 points
  38. Calypso fell within herself. On the outside, she seemed mundane, not at all an ancient Sith reborn. Her tattered clothes were gone, replaced by a simple brown worker's frock that wouldn't be out of place on an assembly line. Her yellow eyes had dulled to a sickly ochre, and her pale skin and white hair now looked more the result of a lack of sun and early aging respectively than of any connection to the Dark Side. Perhaps the one thing her master had been talented at was hiding in plain sight, and she'd picked up the knack herself during her time building her strength underneath the Jedi's notice a thousand years ago. Inside, however, a black torrent of emotions swelled and waned to her will. Fury and disgust at the universe mingled with her ever present hatred, and the Dark Side responded as it always did. She let it flow through her, an icy burning that scoured her and left her painfully cleansed. It was only in moments like this that she ever felt truly whole, and she took a moment to savor the exhilaration, before turning her will to the task at hand. She directed the power out into the world, willing the Dark Side itself to manifest in the physical plane, a perfect blasphemy. The power left her, and she opened her eyes. ...Nothing. Frustration curdled her cultivated reservoir of emotions, and she briefly considered letting them out in a display of power. She quickly decided against it. The ship was coming up on Felucia, and she would not risk being discovered by the Jedi now, not over a reckless release of emotions. Better to wait until they'd landed, and the planet's own life energy would act as camouflage. Speaking of which... She got up from her unassuming quarters and exited out into the hall. The other colonists on The Ottega Dawn milled about, excited to be landing and starting their new lives in Har Gau. None of them gave the thin, meek Sith Master a second look, and she shuffled her way towards the bridge. As she walked further away from the living quarters, the crowds thinned. When she reached the final door that led to the ship's command center, she did not pause, but gestured with her hand, and the door whooshed open. Where the crew should have been, only a single Ithorian remained at his station. By the symbols on his drab uniform, he was the captain of the ship. The rest of the crew lay piled into a single corner, charred to the point of their various species being unrecognizable. The captain's response to her presence was immediate and visceral. Letting out a high-pitched whine that would have been more fitting coming from an animal, he cowered, tucking his head down in a futile attempt to look as small as possible. Calypso strode over to him, and the man began quaking in fear. "Are we landing soon?" The Ithorian could only nod. Up close, scorch marks and burns became apparent, a testament to the hours and hours of "meticulous" attention Calypso had bestowed upon him after she'd disposed of the unnecessary bridge staff. She did not have any long term plans for the ship, and so she would only need the captain for now. "Good, land as planned. Then await my instructions." She did not need to threaten. The two of them perfectly understood each other. The utterly broken, wreck of a captain could only nod again, shaking so badly Calypso was mildly surprised he could stand. If her time among the Cthon had taught her anything, it was how to break a beast to her will. ______________________ The Ottega Dawn touched down outside of the city of Har Gau. Colonists, eager to make a new start for themselves in the city trickled out. No one noticed the single woman disappear deeper into the jungle.
    2 points
  39. The force was filled with a sense of despair and fright. Without commanders and without further direction or battlemeld, the Sith aligned forces were now nearly on the edge of route. The Knights and their soldiers had punched a salient into the lines of defence around the capital city, while the Jedi Knights took out their command and control. An effective if entirely accidental result which had led to where they were now. Sith combat units had landed in system directly after the Knights had arrived and had been swiftly engaged and killed by the Jedi Order. An impressive feat which had revealed far more information than the Sith likely wanted to let the Sovereign Alliance know. They had not died at Nar Shaddaa, and their ships that brought them here were to be found and the hyperdrives analysed. He held up his sabre again and glanced over to Tygo who had held forth a brilliant flash of light to protect young Caridian Heir. The dour young man of Noctural was proving himself more than useful every day. Adrienne was doing well with her rifle, but they were still outnumbered. A brief counterattack that used the last of the Sith strength that was quickly beaten back, but young Malczewski was down. Raphanel took a breath and directed a blast of the force towards the remaining Sith soldiers, flattening them and allowing his men to finish them off with quick blaster bolts. An application of the force and he lept to where the young man was. Frozen, staring at a young casualty. A death at his hands. The first in close combat, and one he would likely never forget. “Tygo, roll up the rest of the line.” He shouted, “I’ll cover the boy.” The battle was won, and it would be finished by the competent Falcon, it was time to look to their own. Stepping close he shut off his saber and snapped it to his belt as he unclasped his cloak and threw it over the young woman’s body. Its rich folds of grey covering her soft features from his view. Adrienne took one arm and Raphanel the other and they lightly pushed him to sit and lean against the side of the trench. “Strength lad, you freed her from the pain and evil that had possessed her. Feel no shame in such a thing.”
    2 points
  40. Kirlocca offered up a smile at Sandy's words over the blade and death. While there may have been words worth noting or even speaking comfort, he decided against it. His smile was enough to let her know that he valued her and her actions. Turning towards the other Wookiee upon Sandy introducing Kerriwarr, he offered up a slight head bow in return to his fellow Wookiee. Although the words spoken over him seemed too lavished for someone of his position. And yet again, words he could respond with felt somewhat hollow, he pushed them aside for the moment. In many cases, Kirlocca had found that words were not always as useful as one might assume. Actions always spoke much louder regardless of words. The Jedi Master instead choose to focus and observe Kerriwarr in his healing process. He had the chance over the years to watch many Jedi Healers perform and do some great work within the Force. Skye Organa was the first to come to mind in this instance. But what he watched from his fellow Wookiee was something different than what he had ever seen before. Words spoken felt familiar as if he should know them, yet he did not. He wondered for a moment if Kerriwarr had studied ancient Shyriiwook and learned Xaczik. Granted, even then some of the words were not very familiar to him if that was also the case. As Kerriwarr finished, he leaned in and looked over Sandy's wounds that were very much on the mend. << Very impressive Kerriwarr. Where did you learn such skills? >>
    2 points
  41. Bernon Mrrgwharr was quickly torn from the world of Astral death. Whenever he came out with Darth Dictum, Darth Akheron, and Krath Inmortos, the boiling blood around him burned his form, but it was just another pain, one that would make him tougher. It did add to his scars, those scars would heal, unlike his finger, however. He soon came to his senses and bowed before his Master. He did not speak, they were completed with the ritual, and he was ready for his next orders. He was excited for his next bit of training, and the power that was certain to come with it. He smiled as the four Sith stood together, an unstoppable, immortal, quartet of Sith. He then stood and bowed before his other Master, Darth Akheron. When he rose he began to think to himself, as he often did. Apprentice Bern was just that, an Apprentice, standing amongst a Sith Lord and Sith Masters, he felt as if he stood out here. Like he almost didn't belong here, however, that didn't matter. It was just doubt in his mind, and doubt was an emotion often meant to be ignored. He was a Sith Apprentice, true, but one day he would rank among these powerful Lords and Masters. He was doing pretty well for a Sith Apprentice of the Warrior Archetype and a follower of the Wisdom of the Blade. He had a Limnal Blade, a great weapon indeed. From the Dark Book he learned, he also received much training. This was certainly a great start for him and his type of Sith. He was quite proud of himself, however, he made sure not to let his pride overcome him. He was still young, he was no Master. He assumed that Solus the Sith Assassin and Apprentice would be here soon as well, given his Master's return. This should be interesting. Two Sith Warriors, two Sith Assassins, and a Sith Sorcerer. Funny, this was the Sorcerer's world, and he was outnumbered by every other class of Sith here. He often wondered what this world once was, what it was like. However, it likely was a weak civilization that had been overcome and defeated by the strength of the Dark Side. Whoever once lived here likely fought against the Sith, and paid in much blood. This world was a testament to the power of the Dark Side and the futility of the attempt to resist such power. No Jedi or Imperial Knight, or so he believed, could dare to take on such power and ever truly succeed in their efforts. As far as he knew, the Galactic Alliance and Imperial Remnant had joined forces and become the Sovereign Alliance. The Sovereign Alliance had its military, law code, and Emperor. It most likely controlled the majority of the Galaxy by now. If the Sith had lost the worlds of Falleen and Korriban to them, it certainly wouldn't be good for the morale or the Sith themselves. Bernon only could hope that the Sith could recover from these losses. But leading the Sith was not his job, and he wasn't even ready to partake in their war yet, at least he didn't think he would be allowed to. No, such was not his business yet. He should stay focused on succeeding in his training before partaking in such matters. He looked around at all of the Sith gathered here, and patiently awaited his next orders.
    2 points
  42. Kirlocca felt Sandy's touch through the Force and followed the currents it presented to where he could now clearly see her. She was with another Wookiee, which meant his ears did not deceive him when he heard the language of his people spoken. Too many had withdrawn over the years due to the rampant attacks upon the his homeworld. Those that did travel tended to remain closer to the Core or the Outer Rim. As he neared, he noticed that there was a small child with them. And to add confusion to what he was feeling, he could also tell that the Wookiee was also a Force User. As he slowly walked up to the group, he took notice of how much larger the other Wookiee was. Granted, he was on the smaller side, the other stood almost a good foot over him and out weighed him by a lot. He quickly blamed it on his old age and extended the lightsaber hilt that Sandy gave him back to her, yet never taking his own eyes off of the other Wookiee before him. << I must thank you Sandy, it came in handy. Helped me rescue myself, along with Raven's soul... >> He paused as he looked over the entire situation. He was still beyond flabbergasted to even see another Wookiee who also wielded the Force. He didn't know why. Gantroiss was one who came before him, so it wasn't like it was something new. He did finally break his eyes away from the fellow Wookiee and looked down at Sandy. << You're cut. >> The acknowledgement of her injuries was one that others might find ironic, since he himself was still bleeding from many scars of his own duel. But for him, he just simply did not remember that he was even bleeding or cut. The adrenaline had fully kicked in and had yet to die down since his duel.
    2 points
  43. A pair of soldiers on the firing line dropped, one dead and the other knocked down as his armor took the brunt of the blast. "Steady..." called out the Commander The Commander felt the Jedi's influence. Like the other Home Guard, his mind had been broken and reforged by their Sith masters, repeatedly. He knew the touch of the Force. Unfortunately for his soldiers, a few succumbed to the mind trick, if briefly. The commander picked out those breaking formation, and his rifle chattered as he began dropping the weak minded squad members with precise blaster fire. Weakness would not be tolerated. Unfortunately, the distraction proved successful, and the Jedi launched his assault in the momentary lapse brought about by his trick. Into that lapse came the droid. The Commander watched as he tore through his troops, first with his hammer and fists, then with one of their own guns. But he would not surrender, or flee. He couldn't. He was the Commander. There was nothing else. The Sith had left nothing else. "Concentrate fire on the Jedi. Prioritize attacks from multiple angles." He reasoned that if the Jedi went down, the attackers would lose heart and fall back. "The droid is my priority." The remaining Home Guard were the elite of Korriban. Minds broken and wills reforged by Sith alchemy and mental conditioning, they followed orders and held discipline as well as any droid. In near complete disregard for their well-being, the soldiers redirected their fire towards the Jedi, simultaneous volleys opening up on the intruder. The Commander sprang across the battlefield, taloned trandoshan hands and feet propelling him forward like a beast, dodging back and forth through the hail of laser fire. Snarling, he leapt at the terror droid, intent on ripping out the mechanical soldiers facial bits, even if it cost him his life. He was the Commander. There was nothing else.
    2 points
  44. Jedi Agri-Corps Sationem salutis [‘sowing health’ in High Galactic] Written by Kerriwarr and Sandy Sarna With food scarcity becoming a major issue after the fall of the Sith Empire, the Jedi Order has reformed the Agri-Corps to enable its vast array of Jedi Knights and trainees to better help the galaxy recover from the galactic civil war. Leadership: Administrative oversight of the Agricultural Corps will be maintained by a small council of Jedi Masters appointed by the High Council. This subservient council shall have direct control over the Agricultural Corps, facilitating its operation and businesses in accordance with mandates and directives as administered by the High Council. The Agricultural Corps Council - and the general leadership/membership of the Agricultural Corps as a whole - shall be made up of Jedi of the following roles: Jedi Veterans of Galactic Wars To reinforce a state of discipline and tact in operations, stimulate efficient work and productivity, and provide security oversight to Agri-Corps worlds and installations. Consulars of Relevant Specialty To oversee the use - and necessary instruction of - Force techniques and knowledge relevant to the Agri-Corps, including but not limited to: Consitor Sato, Beast Control, Prima Vitae, etc. Sentinels of Relevant Specialty To facilitate the use of assistive and industry-relevant technologies and implements, and more broadly, to aid in the business relations of the Agricultural Corps with the wider galaxy to broker trade negotiations with external organizations. Membership: General membership within the Agricultural Corps can be split into two general categories - those who have been volunteered or assigned to the Agricultural Corps as a tenured position, and those who have volunteered or elected to a temporary assignment within the Corps. The Agricultural Corps serves as one of the branches of the Jedi Service Corps, a haven for those Jedi who were deemed unfit to pass their trials of Knighthood and have thus been relegated to less-demanding, yet no more crucial work. Members of the Agri-Corps are primarily those Jedi who have failed their trials, supplemented by Masters and Knights on assignment or who have volunteered, often for respite from the rigor of active duty service in the Jedi’s combat forces. Objectives: Planetary Rehabilitation The Agricultural Corps specialize in the revitalization of worlds damaged and obliterated, either by artificial or natural means, providing rehabilitative services to local populations and, indeed, revitalizing local ecosystems and habitats. Agri-World Maintenance Perhaps the primary duty of the Agri-Corps, the construction and maintenance of facilities and infrastructure for ‘Agri-Worlds’ serves as one of the organization's utmost responsibilities, growing and providing food and resources for those in need throughout the Galaxy. Jedi Rehabilitation Given the tranquil nature of the vocations needed within the Agri-Corps, it is certainly an alternative function of the organization to provide its members - of a permanent or temporary capacity - with respite from some of the Order’s more strenuous occupations. Galactic Food Aid Serving as a means of charity and philanthropy for the Order, the Agricultural Corps, as part of its rehabilitative efforts, strive greatly to provide those in need throughout the Galaxy with healthy, nutritious produce, stationing facilities on worlds of particular destitute status and opening their doors to those in dire straits. Alternative Income With donation and subsidized funding from a great many organizations, the Agricultural Corps serves as an alternative, sustainable source of income for the Order, providing a lifeline in the event of a funding collapse. NPC Cast: Leaders Consular Tavri Hel Veteran of the Galactic Civil War Age 60 Ithorian Sentinel Tandrin Keel Veteran of the Galactic Civil War Age 29 Human Apprentice Kayla Thren-Tir Temporary assignment to Agri-Corps Age 14 Human Apprentice Liam Ulantis Temporary assignment to Agri-Corps Age 12 Bothan Apprentice Thran-Falk Assigned to the Agri-Corps failing trials Age 19 Rishii
    2 points
  45. Blood. We need blood. Demand Blood One of the remaining priests seized one of the young women they had tied to the altar and ran his wicked knife across her glistening emerald coloured throat. Blood arced from severed arteries and coated the altar with a bright misting of crimson. It caught the light of the jedi in a dull reflection, and though other priests added their sacrifices to the altar of the fanged God the room trembled. It had been too soon. This ancient malice had not been fully awoken, it had not been fed enough to have the strength to overcome the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. A waste of blood and a waste of countless lives. The presence seemed to manifest in the blood for a moment, a towering creature of malice. A nightmare from another age. Reaching to the vaulted ceiling with arms that dripped and splattered. Consume us. The Priests chanted but their voices were failing. And the presence pulled upon the ceiling. Perhaps in frustration, perhaps in spite. To bring the great temple down upon the priests, unkilled sacrifices, and whatever Jedi might have wanted to step foot into his wicked domain.
    2 points
  46. The Wookiee looked up, his gaze meeting that of the approaching woman as she spoke. His chestnut fur, matted with grime and blood, billowed in the soft breeze of the alleyway as the Tree Carer rose to his full height, towering above the child and, indeed, above the woman that approached. "I have been called for a higher purpose by the Force and by one of your peers. I am told that I am to be trained as a Jedi. I am Kerriwarr, Tree Carer and Sage of the Wroshyr, Keeper of Saava and Speaker of the Syren, at your service." He beckoned the child behind him, holding his staff to his side as he bowed his head. Whilst the woman seemed tepid in her demeanor, it was not lightly that Kerriwarr would abandon his duty. The woman's intentions could be of great difference to the demeanor she presented, and the Wookiee would not be so unwise as to drop his guard at the first sign of peace. "And who may you be to be amidst such toil?" he asked, the guttural sounds of Shyriiwook filling the side-street, "Are you a Jedi?"
    2 points
  47. The whole of the library shook, tomes and sacred texts tumbling freely as the temperature seemed to plummet. Suddenly the long shadows and eerie blue flames of the library were extinguished in frigid shadow; nothingness that seemed to erode the physical world about them all until they tumbled into what felt like frozen eternal infinite. And then as fast as they fell, they would impact the cold smooth stone of a nearly unadorned room; the smooth windowless and doorless icy walls of Inmortos’ crypt. All that interrupted the empty box of a room was a simple stone sarcophagus jetting up from the center of the room, all carved from one single stone. The room still shook, the after effects of their transit. With a crash that fractured the silence, the stone lid of the coffin tumbled to the floor in a flash of night. Suddenly, standing at the head of the box was Inmortos clad in his dark flowing robes. He reached out with his skeletal hands to become both @Bernon Mrrgwharr and @Lord Ōk Rägnär from the floor forward to the coffin’s stone edge. “Well done,” He wheezed as his freezing gaze beheld his apprentice’s newfound form. “You have taken the first steps beyond the mortal chains which bind you. Survive and one day you shall break them entirely. Break the bounds of the mortal hold about your spirit. Then you will become the scourge of the dark side, capable of taking any and all that you desire, of carving reality to your will. To begin these steps, become one of the Bladeborn and with your frozen blade slay ten lightsaber wielding foes.” Looking to Dictum, a twisted smile crossed the rotted falling flesh that remained on Inmortos’ face. “For your name has been scribed upon the final page of the tome. Even now, I can taste your soul in the cosmos, condemned to the finality that binds you. You have joined a pact with eternal damnation. You are it’s avatar upon this plane until it calls you home.” As he spoke, blood began to fill the coffin, materializing as if from the very air, the levels growing until it was filled to the brim with steaming crimson liquid. Leaning against the edge of the sarcophagus, Inmortos beheld the liquid that filled his final resting place. A single ripple disturbed the surface, a droplet of blood escaping as it passed over Inmortos’ finger. “Our brother, Akheron, has had his soul cast into the void; fallen in battle as a warrior ought to go.” @Karys Narat iv-Adas Looking up, Inmortos’ eyes flashed. “He is bound in the Baptism of Blood and I have not yet concluded the business for which his soul has been cleansed in death.” “Give me your hands,” Inmortos commanded, extending a skeletal hand draped in rotted flesh to both his apprentice and Dictum. “Plunge yourselves into eternity,” he opened his mind to the others. “Reach out to Akheron’s soul, his body ensnared worlds away. Remind him of his failure Bernon, for you now stand where he has fallen; a warrior worthy of the gift of Inmortos. Stoke his spirit until it seeks to destroy you and then, flee. Return to me, lest the Sith’s spirit destroy you and possess your physical form.” Inclining his head toward Dictum, Inmortos hissed, “Should he succeed, draw the body of Akheron’s fallen form into this place. For in the shadows, that which are not can be and those which do not exist are given form.” Throwing back his head, Inmortos began to scream, to chant cold ancient indecipherable magics from beyond history. The room plunged into shadow as the steaming blood began to boil and churn, steam filling the air and turning into ice as specters and wraiths pierced thr veil and began to scream, their jnvisible claws tearing at the flesh of the sorcerer, assassin, and warrior. ((Good job you both! Now for the next step, resurrecting our fallen comrade, @Karys Narat iv-Adas who fell on Falleen. Once your portions of the ritual are complete, we will return Akheron to life in out location. Welcome to Necromancy!))
    2 points
  48. Lumare grinned and nodded, the hunt was on and this would be glorius. Following close to the unlikely ally as they came across more pirates, the scum unaware of how close to death they were. She liked the Felucian's plan, it was simple and efficicent, brutal and fast. It was unlikely that the pirates would stand long against the pair. When Hagark charged she moved around the flank, whistling that tune once more, echoing through the halls and installing fear in those that were left. Of course her blade was coming down before the pirates could react, striking without mercy and moving quickly. Blood spraying onto the walls as she moved through the pirates. Naturally they fled, breaking at the sight of the pair attacking. "Oh no you don't" she sprinted them down, following the pirates as they fled with their tail between their legs. That spherical object coming out of her pocket, activating the device and tossing it into the craft before making a bolt for the nearest bulkhead and away from the blast.
    2 points
  49. Dirt showered Piotr as he was swept up in the advance across the field towards the trenches of Falleen. An armored speartip shattered across the shield of House Contispex, one of the greatest houses in the Sovereign alliance. It was here that Piotr was expected to find himself. To become a man, a staunch defender. A warrior, a champion of the light. He was supposed to be filled with jubilant reverie at the idea of freeing the world from the Dark Side. The birth of a champion. But all he felt was fear. It paralyzed him. It turned his legs to stone, and his arms to jelly. How was he supposed to fight this? Their foe had LAVs, mounted weapon emplacements, and a horde of unwavering warriors. All he had were a blade and a shield made for a man much more worthy. Had his father sent him to die? A mortar landed a few yards away, killing two men and sending him to the dirt from the force of the blast. He hit the ground and rolled, struggling to his feet as the battle came into focus. He froze, raising his shield instinctively as friendly forces pushed past him. He'd just watched people die. It was the first time he'd been exposed to death, especially on such a large scale. He was pulled out of his thoughts by an armored hand grasping at his arm. He looked over to see Adrienne looking at him intently. "If you stop, you die. You need to move." She yanked him forward, out of his stupor. She was right. Staying there, in that open field, if the mortars and defenders didn't kill him, then the armored forces behind them would trample him. Ironically, the safest place to be right now was right against the trench. He followed close behind as she pushed forward, following in her wake as she moved troops aside with her presence. She wasn't a great lord or a renowned warrior, but she wore Contispex's heraldry, and was marked as one of their own. He tried to spot Kyrie, or Raphanel, or even Tygo, but in the chaos of battle, finding individuals was nearly impossible. When he looked back in front of them, they were only meters away from the trenches- Friendly forces were already inside, but he was forced to raise his shield beside Adrienne as they came under fire from a second line. "Get in, now!"
    2 points
  50. Letting out a breath as his opponent hit the ground and didn't move, Kirlocca suddenly felt tired. With blood dripping off of him in a few places and a great amount of Force energy spent, he could do nothing but stare at the body of the man before him. Emotions stirred deep within him and an urge arose strongly within him. This man was a Sith. He had killed so many over his time, even boasting about it before their duel. The most recent victim that he knew of, Raven. The one whom he would say he loved. To take this man's life would be well within the norms, even for a Jedi. But the urge was so strong, that the Jedi Master felt like he should resist it. Sweat and blood slowly dripped from his body as he stared down and wondered what he should do. Closing his eyes, he reached into the Force and attempted to feel out what it was urging him to do. And as he did, he began to calm himself down in the process. The Dark Side energy was still present, but it was slowly rinsing away, like rain clearing dirt from a road. He could feel Raven still upon him, within the crystal; to which again felt distorted and untrue to how he remembered she felt within the Force. Slowly, he took a deep breath in and opened his eyes. He was now aware of the surrounding situations taking place in the city. He glanced around and could feel most of what was transpiring today. He then had another feeling rise within himself, and he knew what his next course of action was to be. He walked over to the body of Darth Mavanger, the Sith who sought great power through his anger and vengeance. He slowly turned the body over, to observe that he was still indeed alive. From the looks of it, and from what could be felt within the Force, he was simply knocked out. If any injury beyond his own physical sight could be seen, it would be paralysis from the blow. There would be no way of the Wookiee knowing that information. He leaned down, picking up the lightsaber hilt that Sandy gave him, followed by the tall Jedi leaning into the tower over the body. He placed his left injured paw upon the man's chest while the other held the hilt. He locked eyes upon the unconscious face. << ...Your grief is great... but as I told you before. It is blinding you. Consuming you. Yes, our battle here showed it is feeding you great and strong power. But it is also blinding you. Handicapping you. I have faced far more death and despair, and have given into such emotions in the past. But they do not aid me. They never have. And that is where the two of us have greatly differed. I do not have any desire to gain power. I do not need more strength, and the focus it gives grants me the wrong focus that I need. >> Kirlocca now turned and sat beside the Sith. Letting his body relax more, as some blood still slowly escaped his body through the many cuts and wounds he received. Although, none of them were at all life threatening. He took a glance around the city before looking back at the man laying next to him. << I know that you'll most likely never hear these words I'm speaking. But truth be told, they're not for you. They're for me. Raven's death set me upon an all too familiar path, one that could have led me back to the Dark Side. But I was not brought back to life to just simply be another Jedi in the fold. My path has walked me through such pain and hurt many times, and for many more years than everyone else. The curse of a long lifespan. But it has shown me that others need to learn to walk that path. They need someone to show them how to do better. And I had a warning of where my path was taking me. You were that warning. >> Kirlocca withdrew the crystal that contained Raven's soul out of the Sith's armor and looked at it. There was a part of him that wondered if he should even take it. Would it continue to plague him with grief? Would him parting with it help? He understood though that he just simply couldn't let any part of her remain with the Sith. He then took some of his fur off his body where he had already been cut, followed by tying it up together. He then yanked the crystal from the Sith and put it to the side, followed by him tying the fur to replace the crystal for the Sith. As he finished, he slowly put the fur behind the man's armor and held the crystal. << I know that you may feel disrespected that I did that... but I feel that our paths will cross again. Perhaps maybe in knowing that I do not exterminate Sith will have you second guess yourself. But I want you to know somehow, that even within my own pain and grief... I can grow beyond it. And I know that you can too. Maybe our next meeting will be a point in which you let go of your grief and anger. The sorrow is heavy and drowns us. Letting it go allows for us to rise above it. >> Kirlocca then stood up and attached the lightsaber hilt to his belt. It was about the only thing left upon him since having his cross belt taken off. Luckily, there was a pouch on the belt that could hold the crystal. Upon having everything secured upon his body, he picked up the Sith and began to walk him towards the port. Upon arrival, he found a transport looking to get off world. Paying for their trouble to transport him to wherever, along with medical attention, the Jedi Master watched as it took off. With it left a man that Kirlocca now pitied. His anger and grief took him down a road, one that the Wookiee almost walked down again. It was his grief that saved Kirlocca, as it acted as a warning. And now, he watched knowing that there would be a second time he would see the Sith again. His anger in being defeated, and most likely being left alive and fully taken care of would further spur on hatred towards the Jedi. There was a chance that it would not. But it was beyond his control now. He trusted the Force that he made the right decision and left it at that. Turning to walk back towards the city, he would find Leena and Sandy to make sure they both were okay. And hopefully, one of them would know how to release Raven’s soul, her essence back into the Force. It would be his way of releasing her and fully setting his grief free.
    2 points
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