Mavanger

Mordecai surged forward. This child thought he knew anger? That he knew his master's mind? The pain that he'd experienced, the method to his madness? He threw his blade to the side. He would teach this mewling cub what it meant to be truly beyond the ordinary. To be a master of combat in a warrior society. He caught Fiochmar's wrist in his hand, yanking him forward off his feet. A foot impacted his knee, but his knee, supported by armor and his own rage, refused to buckle. His blade bit into Mordecai's shoulder, but he just laughed. Pain was an old friend. With his spare hand, he grabbed the Tsis's neck, lifting him off the ground before slamming him back down on his back. He kneeled, his knee pressing into the boy's ribcage, his hand still gripping the neck, all but cutting off the airflow. "You think you know rage? You think you know fury? You think it knows what I drive you towards? You presume to claim knowledge of my design, without having learned?" He looked into Fiochmar's eyes, anger and hatred burning just beneath the surface of his measured guise. "Look into my eyes, child. Look what it means to lose yourself to fury. To rage. To grief. Your anger is but a pittance. You rage against those that ruined your people, but they were not your people. They were your ancestors'. Your rage has been diluted through the generations, a morsel of rotten promise, passed down from generation to generation until you forgot what it meant to lose someone. What it means to die and return to life through sheer wrath and will. What I want is for the fall of the rebels. Nothing more, nothing less. What you do is your own concern. I am merely teaching you how." He stood, taking a step back, his breaths heavy. The troopers weren't laughing anymore. There was a thick silence in the air as the two Sith caught their breath. Darth Mavanger removed the blade from his shoulder, letting it clatter to the ground. Twice, the boy had embedded his blade into his shoulder. This time, however, it had tasted bone. He was improving, albeit slowly. But an apprenticeship would last longer than an afternoon. "Return to the Raven's Bane. There will be a trooper waiting for you- she will show you to the medbay for any injuries you've received, and then to your quarters. She will give you a communicator that you will use to stay in contact with me while I am away. She will remain until you dismiss her. She will be your personal aide, and will help you learn of the Empire and our teachings." OOC Note: Let Fiochmar meditate, practice on his own. Figure out where he fits. The trooper is at your command- she's your NPC to do with as you wish. Name her, control her, use her as much or as little as you'd like for the next few posts.

With a deft flick of his wrist, Mordecai's blade avoided the axe that would have otherwise tried to disarm him. He stepped to his apprentice's left, ducking past the blow with a speed belied by his heavy armor. His foot shot out, tripping Fiochmar. To his credit, the boy kept his footing, stumbling forward and only falling once Mordecai used the pommel of his weapon to shove him from behind. He held his arms out, not caring for the spectacle himself, but he knew that the feelings that it would elicit from his apprentice were crucial. "You have raw skill. Perhaps you were one of the better fighters in your clan. Maybe even the best. But you're overconfident. Archaic savagery and un-tempered emotions will not carry you to victory on the field. It will lead you to your death. Master your emotions, your movements, or you will find your head beneath my boot." It was a lesson he had learned the hard way. Facing off against Raven's bodyguards over Borleias. The scars that marred his face pulsed with an old pain, a memory of the Excorcist's fire, his reckless charge costing him victory. And again on Kuat, versus the Imperial Knight that had looked to kill him then and there. A victory within his grasp, stolen by his own overconfidence. These were not the teachings of a rambling drill instructor- Mordecai had seen countless conflicts. Countless battles. He'd killed millions, either by his own hand or by his orders. These lessons were lessons best learned here, in a courtyard full of troopers on cleanup duty, so that the only loss would be pride, rather than his life. "Again." OOC Note: Try to put more description into your attacks. Your first post was better with this- the angle of the swing and when it happens. How fast is the swing? How much force is behind it? From a narrative standpoint, this helps the readers keep track of the fast movements of melee combat. From a dueling perspective, it gives your opponent and the mod a clearer picture of your attack and what your intent is.

The boy was cocky. Overconfident. He swung wildly, with no regards to tactics or his opponent's defense. He jumped back, letting the blades connect in the middle of their trajectory before dashing back in, his vibrosword moving in a swift upwards motion. The blade, while deactivated and not a lethal threat, still had the weight and the impact of a weapon. It struck the hilts of the weapons, knocking them out of the apprentice's hands and onto the stone pavement of the courtyard. He came closer, grabbing Fiochmar's collar with his free hand and pulling him close, driving his knee into the boy's gut before throwing him to the ground. He stepped past, turning calmly. There were troopers watching now. Good. The shame would fuel the boy's powers, and if it proved a hinderance, then it was one he could beat out of the Tsis now. "When you use two weapons, you make sacrifices for the sake of offensive capabilities. You can strike from many angles, with many cuts, and you can strike fast, as a one handed blade is lighter and more easily maneuvered. When you strike with both like that, not only are you exposing yourself to a counter attack, but you are striking along the same plane. It takes minimal effort to block or dodge both blades." He pointed the tip of his sword at the apprentice before him, his face an unreadable mask. "Get up. Pick up your weapons. Strike me."

Mordecai scoffed. One lesson had been learned, only for his newest apprentice to stumble into another fallacy. He motioned for the young Sith to follow him. There was a time for philosophy, and a time for battle; He would leave this boy with one last lesson before he taught him ones of more martial value. He tilted his head to Solus as the droid left, looking at the apprentice at his own side. "He seeks to be valuable as well. Stronger, more powerful. But power for what purpose? Valuable to who? Me? I do not need you. I have nearly broken my chains. The Dark Lord? She doesn't need you either. She has an empire. Value is in the eye of the beholder. You will not learn to be a slave under me, you will not learn how to kneel. You will learn how to be your own man. You will learn how slay those that stand in the way of whatever your goals are, whether it be as small a goal as killing someone or as large as owning an empire. You will be valuable to the Sith by being what Sith were always meant to be- Free of your chains, and with the entire galaxy at your fingertips." He picked up a vibroblade from a fallen defender. It was lighter than his blades, but heavier than a saber. He could use it easily. He thought back to his own start as a Sith. With a similar blade he had made his first blow, and he'd been thrown to the red sands of Korriban to either become Sith, or die trying. Valinore had forged him into a weapon, but he had made his own path. He thought to Kuat, where Lord Xahl had fallen. His crusade had changed then from one of fealty, to one of vengeance. To stamp out the Rebellion while it was still young. His thoughts drifted to Geonosis, the last time he's seen Jarvus. And to the storm of rage and fury that had come with his death, that had left Naboo in ruins. His fight was no longer borne of fealty to the Dark Lord, or of patriotism to the Sith Empire. They were a price to be paid. His life in servitude to the Dark Lord, and in return, he had been granted what he wanted. Kill the Empress, or die trying. They were back in the courtyard now, and he turned to face the young Sith before him. He lifted his blade. "Draw your weapon. Your test begins now. Strike at me with everything you've got."

Whew, another duel here. Y'all are keeping me busy, you bastards. But I'm happy to do it! As before, we'll start with the bad, then hit the good, end on a positive note for the ruling. First, Sheog. There are two things that spring to mind here. First, I couldn't find any mention whatsoever of damage taken in the previous duel, which in battles where you're dueling consecutively stands as an important note to take. Next, your final post pushes your abilities a little too far, I feel. From summoning your axe and throwing it, conjuring Force Vomitus, and firing a radiation beam at your opponent, you're using two major force powers while trying to guide your axe to your target. While the setting is Sheog clearly eating a planet, and the schism between that and what you're capable of in a duel can be a tad jarring, it's important to take a look at what you're doing and considering if it's too much. Next, Alleria. This is your first duel on the site, and while your posts keep up with the narrative in Sheog's well, when we get down to the fight itself we're left with a bit of a pickle. First, the power disparity. A fight against a higher ranked character, even an injured one, will almost always be an uphill battle. Very rarely do we see upsets of this balance, and that's important to keep in mind when deciding if you'll duel or not. Second, as an apprentice force user who has not taken up a class yet, you try to take from the best of both FU and NFU worlds, which for balance purposes is not acceptable. NFUs are inherently at a disadvantage to FUs without these rules, as anything an NFU could do a FU could potentially do better. As such, we limit tech FUs are allowed to use. Between your usage of the Force and a lightsaber, and a veritable armory of NFU tech like blaster pistols and heavy duty explosives (Like the detonite and thermal detonators), this is a violation of our dueling rules. Again, it's your first duel on this site, so you aren't in trouble, but it certainly counts against you for the purposes of this ruling. Finally, your last attack against your opponent. At no point can you write your attack hitting your opponent. Sticking your arm into the wounded Hutt, while a bad idea for reasons beyond what I'm touching on here, is closed attack, as your opponent has been granted no opportunity to defend himself. Even if he has a chance to react to the detonator, you've dealt damage to him by showing an appendage into a gaping wound. As the rules stand at the time of writing this ruling, even grabbing an opponent's shirt is grounds for a duel loss, as it can put them at a disadvantageous position without getting a say in the matter. Even for the last post in a duel, this is unacceptable due to the existence of follow-up duels and ties that turn into a second duel. (Again not in trouble, it's just important to mention these things in the ruling so that players have a clear and concise idea of what they did right and wrong Now we can move to the good. You both did excellently at responding to and receiving damage, and both of you led with clear and concise attacks that are explained well. At no time was I scratching my head saying 'What just happened?'. The scene was written well, and I kept track of the fight pretty easily. With the timing of the duel taken into account both IC and OOC, both of y'all made an admirable showing and despite the above criticisms, should come out of this feeling confident that you both put up a good fight. With all that said, my ruling is thus: Sheog the Mad defeats Alleria Tal'verda, and has next post.

Mordecai had to stifle a laugh- From the indignant way that Darth Oni stalked away, it seemed he had been put in his place properly this time, and was unhappy about it. Mordecai moved to Fiochmar, keeping an eye on the other Sith Master. This was a teachable example, and with a new apprentice under his wing, it would be one he'd capitalize on. "Learn from this, Fiochmar. A Sith who demands respect from those around him will find little if he does not return the courtesy. What you see here today is nothing like what you would see in true Sith politics. Oni would have found blades drawn three times over had the Dark Lady not stayed our hands, and they would not have been content with leaving just a scar, as you've just witnessed." It was a strange feeling, mirth. One he had not felt even the briefest touch of since Jarvus had died over Mon Cal. Indeed, the last time he had laughed had been long ago, before he had set out on his campaign, before he had been a lord, even. He pondered what had brought the emotion back to him. Was it merely watching the indignant Sith master going from Sith to Sith with nothing but condescension and insults get his due? No, normally he would be fuming that he couldn't gut the man himself. Perhaps it was that an end to his vengeance was in sight- He would kill Raven, as the Dark Lord wished, and then, hopefully, he would finally feel as though he had truly avenged his allies.

Let me start by saying that this was a rather classic Star Warsy duel. On Team Sith we have Sheog, a powerful Sith Lord capable of consuming all life on a world, much like Darth Nihilus, and is attempting to do so here. On Team Jedi, we have standing against him the Wookie Jedi and his new apprentice, the last line of defense protecting this world from this eldritch monstrosity. This scenario comes out of something like classic KOTOR, or some of the larger scale Legends novels. We'll touch on the bad first, and then touch on the good and end on a happy note. First, we'll touch on Sheog. In the first and second round, you react to the attacks out of order. While largely not changing the effects of the attacks, it's important to note that Kirlocca attacked in order to make an opening for Johan's attacks. In the grand scope of things, you still took damage from both, but I'd like to set a precedent that duelists should respect attacks in 2v1s in order of posting, from the first attack of the first post to the last attack of the second. The exception is if the duelists post their attacks happening out of order, such as if Johan had mentioned his attacks coming before Kirlocca's. Next, Johann. This was Johann's first duel, both IC and OOC, and while it's a good showing, there are areas that can be improved. I would recommend putting more detail into your attacks to give the readers, and your opponent, a more clear idea of what you're attempting to do. For example, where did he aim his shots? What angle did he swing at? Is he on the Hutt's left or his right? Things like this not only make the duel easier to visualize, but in a 2v1 it gives your ally more to work off of in their post, and helps your opponent understand what they need to do to respect the attacks. Kirlocca did much the same. In a duel, you should not simply be saying 'I used x ability for y effect'. The abilities should be the foundation of the writing, not the other way around. Your opponent and the mod should be able to know your attack and what you're trying to do with it through your post, and shouldn't have to pull up the ability spreadsheet to find the effect. For example: 'As he moved, he used his Deft Bladework, having his blade move in a fast back and forth movement, each one designed to make small cuts and wounds, none of which would actually do any damage to the Hutt's naturally thick skin. Kirlocca finished off his maneuver with a low sweeping slash.' If I had not looked at the ability on the guide, I would have no idea that the attack was supposed to off-balance the opponent. In the future, what I would like to see is an explanation of how the attack is achieving its goal. What about the slashes will throw off a Hutt? How can you take a different approach to it to match the circumstance? A duel should be more than using abilities in sequence, and the guide should only be the foundation of your character's abilities, and a guideline as to what characters of that guide can do. Now, onto the good. Sheog, as usual, made a stellar effort to eat him some hairy Jedi. His attacks were clear, descriptive, and from what I can tell, his opponents and myself could clearly understand the desired effect and ways to respond. He's very dismissive and arrogant throughout the fight, but is a character with a storied history that give credence to these factors. He does a good job of balancing this with the subtle realizations that his opponents may be more than flies to swat away. Johann and Kirlocca did an excellent job of believably attempting to coordinate their attacks, and both also played their characters well. Kirlocca, a seasoned Jedi who has faced Sheog before and knows the danger trying to watch out for his apprentice and guide him through the danger of his first duel. Johann plays the role of a padawan in over his head well, and while not knowing who or what Sheog is, understands the danger he's in against him. With that said, Sheog is victorious.

Mordecai nodded to Akheron as he spoke, and while his attention was solely on Darth Oni, he caught enough to give a nod to the conversation. "Go, apprentice. Mingle. Speak with the others, but be mindful of your place." His focus was directed to Oni, and he made his way over as soon as he had the opportunity. There was a matter of honor, and of standing. And there was the matter of the insults that the other Sith had laid upon him before the assembled Sith. He sheathed his blades on his way over, stepping into Oni's field of view, and spoke quietly as to not disturb the mingling that was currently occurring. These words were not for them anyways. "Darth Oni. I presume you were at Kuat, fighting as your brothers died around you to preserve our Empire? Or perhaps you led a campaign to expand it. You must have lost many dear friends, people you trusted, if you presume to speak of me like a mewling child. While you hid under whatever rock you called home for the last three years of bloody war, I fought on every front we've opened. While you casually insult your peers and command them about like the mindless dead you try and cloak yourself with, I devoted everything to ensuring our people were protected, that they were powerful. Every Sith present save for you and Darth Awenydd have seen my work, and I assure you, it is not as insignificant as you seem to imply. My hand was stayed by the Dark Lady this time, but should you insult me to my face again, whether it be private or public, then my blades will taste your rotten, cowardly blood, for it is not just me you insult with those words. You insult every Sith and every trooper and every officer who has given the ultimate sacrifice for our people." He could feel it again. The taste of rage, of sorrow and grief. They welled up, fueled by his words. He could feel his blades pulse in the Force, drawing on the dark energies that surrounded him. The spice of fury, the deep melancholic bitterness of grief. They were his only remaining comrades, the only things that had survived every conflict he had been in. His face was marred with the scars left to him by an imperial knight, and his soul was scarred by the false Empress and her retaking of Mon Cal, where his lover had been killed by their forces. it took every ounce of restraint he had so not attempt to murder the Sith before him, so he silently turned on his heels and moved away. He didn't care to hear the other Master's words- He had made his position clear. He gazed upon the people present- He had been tasked with killing the Empress, and he would likely need a task force to aid him.

He sneered at Oni's words, but as he opened his mouth to retort, another voice range out. As the Dark Lord spoke, Mordecai felt a force try and pull him to his knees. The gravity around him seemed to grow denser, more powerful, seeking to drag him to his knees. What was this? Some unseen attacker? Were the wraiths of Darth Oni seeking to make him kneel? No- he knew this power. It was one he had felt before, at Dark Sun, when he had been an apprentice. When the Spider had still remained glorious, before his bitter downfall into his own schemes and plans. The Dark Lord of the Sith was pulling them to heel. He thrust his still-drawn blades into the stone of the throne room floor, using them as support as the air around him sought to steal his pride, drag him into the abyss. The stone cracked and shattered with the weight of his resolve to remain standing, but even with his own bolstering of the Force and the support of his blades, it was in vain. He collapsed onto his knee. Even though he could remain upright like this, the Dark Lord's objective had been achieved. He had kneeled. And then, he was released from its grasp. He lurched forward, stumbling to his feet as his efforts to push back suddenly met no resistance. He whirled around- not out of aggression, but caution. Why had she singled him out? Death? Combat? Her own chastising? And then, she spoke again. It was a cathartic feeling. While he didn't do what he did for glory or for politics, to finally receive it took a weight off his shoulders. He was silent, allowing the Dark Lord to finish her words before speaking. "I am honored, Dark Lady." And then, the meeting seemed over, and he had a duty. He would rip the empress Raven from her seat of power and dash her spine upon his knee. But in order to do so, he would need a plan, and the aid of the other Sith. He eyed Darth Oni, spite beaming towards him from across the room. His words would be addressed once the others had filtered out- He had so wish to question the Dark Lord's patience by speaking before the meeting was over and the others had left.

Mordecai sighed as he stepped forward. He hadn't met this Awenydd, but she spoke wisely. It was time to quash this dissent- they had more pressing matters to attend, and a civil war amongst the Sith was far from the ideal. The Shard's challenge was quiet, not meant for his ears, but it was in a small, quiet room, filled with people who could attune their senses with the Force. Quiet words were words still spoken, and they would be addressed as such. "Mind your words, apprentice. It is one thing to question Darth Nyrys's strategy- She has invited criticism and allowed us to speak openly. I have done so myself in my war room. But to vocally suggest that she should not be worthy of her position is a challenge, one that will be met with violence. Your master knows better- He will not fight your battle. If you openly declare her illegitimate again, then I will strike you down myself... Assuming she does not first." Mordecai turned to the rest of the Sith. Their words were tiresome- they spoke of craving violence, of seeking death. He would show them what that truly looked like. "Your words ring hollow, each of you. You speak of unearned allegiances and and unworthy successor, yet not one of you has the merit to take her place. Not one of you dares challenge her yourself, for you fear her power. You speak of your gods and your past glories, but they mean nothing. The Sith have no gods- We bow to none but the Dark Lord. Our past glories mean nothing in a new era- Let our actions in the present shape who we are and how we are perceived, lest we grow stagnant once more. We are Sith- it is in our nature to battle for power amongst ourselves, with words when we can..." He let the sentence hang as he drew his blades, stepping forward towards the crowd. "... and with blades when we can't." He eyed them all. "I am Darth Mavanger. Any who question my lust for death, for vengeance, for power, need only to look out a window at the city around us. Any who question my battle prowess or my tactics can look at the swathe I've cut through the Outer Rim. I do not claim the throne, and I do not see any peers more worthy of the claim than Darth Nyrys amongst our number here. The Shard speaks of unworthiness, but then labels himself a slave, as though it is something to be proud of. He would turn us all to slaves of this... fanged god. I would rather lose every vestige of power and control over the galaxy before bending the knee to such a thing. The only real god is power- The only requirement is strength. The only ones above us, the ones who have more. How you use that power, that is what defines us. Do we waste the vestiges of this empire fighting a battle that will never be won in our state, or do we withdraw to strengthen ourselves, prepare ourselves for war, while the rebels desperately try to install any number of failing governments and civil laws? You have the freedom to choose, but the wrong choice will have fatal consequences. If you cannot stand amongst the Sith, then you will kneel before us as we climb over your corpses to victory, as we have for a thousand years."

Combat Air Patrol Carrier (Capital ship or cruiser and support craft): |Banshee| Task Force Experience: Green (0 XP) Imperial II Star Destroyer: Banshee |14/18| Heavy Gunship Carrier (Capital ship or cruiser and support craft): |Revenant| Task Force Experience: Green (0 XP) Imperial II Star Destroyer: Revenant |25/25| Precision Strike Carrier Group: |Geist| Task Force Experience: Green (0 XP) Imperial II Star Destroyer: Geist |25/25| Artillery Battery (Incendiary) Cruiser and Support Craft |Melting Iron| Task Force Experience: Green (1XP) Hussar Class Cruiser: Xhal's Influence |8/20| Raider II Corvette: HF-11306 |2/1| Artillery Battery (Gravity Crusher) Cruiser and Support Craft |Eye of Sagittarius| Task Force Experience: Veteran (2 XP) Gladiator Star Destroyer: Eye of Sagittarius |10/20| Raider II Corvette: HF-11302 |2/1| Raider II Corvette: HF-11303 |2/1| Fleet Command (Flagship) |Goliath| Augmentation: Axial Weapon (MK-I), Ultra-Heavy Flak Cannons (MK-I), Meditation Chamber Xhendora-Class Dreadnought, Goliath |22/25| Battle Line Escort: Tradition of Excellence |Minotaur| Task Force Experience: Veteran, 3XP Gladiator-Class Star Destroyer, Minotaur |31/23| Legendary Task Force: Project |Apophis| Task Force Experience: Veteran Prototype capital ship, Apep |0/8|

Whether it was distrust or disrespect that led to Inmortos not showing himself, it didn't matter. He was here to speak, and Inmortos was here to listen. He would not mince his words, nor would he show mercy if the warnings were unheeded. "You've made a serious blunder, Lord Inmortos, one that if handled poorly will quickly turn lethal. The Dark Lady has called for council, and you were not dismissed. I don't know, nor do I care, if you support her claim or if you believe her to be a pretender. In truth, it matters little. But she has made a claim for the throne, and while you did not openly challenge her, by leaving before she has declared the meeting adjourned, you have challenged her authority. Even as I left, Darth Oni was swearing his fealty, as have Captain Delta and likely the Mandalorians brought with her. By doing so, so early in a reign that may yet be seen as illegitimate, you have put her in a position where she must respond." He stepped forward, his body language relaxed- he was not looking for a fight here, and hoped to get through to the junior Sith Lord what his predicament was. "By coming here without her orders to explain this to you, I have tested that authority, myself, to an end. But I come because I know how easy it is to misstep in Sith politics, and I have run afoul of the Dark Lord before. When the Spider came to me, I challenged his authority much in the same way that you have now, and while yours was not in the midst of soldiers, it was in the midst of our compatriots in the Sith order. I am here to ask you to return, and to prevent infighting between our order. If you refuse to hear me out, or outright decline, then you will not be authorized to leave Naboo. The fleets above are loyal to me, and will not stand down without an order from myself or from the Dark Lady."

Mordecai didn't like long, grandiose speeches like the one the Sorcerer had made, and for good reason. The message that the Sith had wanted to preach could have been conveyed in much less words, in much less time, something that was surprisingly relevant as Krath Inmortos left the meeting without a word. That the other Sorcerer had done so had shocked Mordecai- Even he, with no love for Sith politics, had learned that if you did not pledge loyalty to the Dark Lord, you became an enemy. His dealings with the Spider has shown him that. He waited for Darth Oni to finish his words, not wanting to make a similar scene, before glancing at the Dark Lord. "Stay" he muttered quietly to his apprentice. "And if the opportunity arises, mingle. I have business to attend." He followed Inmortos' path. The train of dead souls and lizardmen of Aaris III were not so easily hid, nor did there seem to be any effort to hide his path. He was heading for the hangar. He opened his communicator, sending a message to his forces in orbit. Krath Inmortos is not to leave this system yet. He moved briskly- not a run, for the old Krath was hobbled it seemed by the use of his cane, but thanks to Oni's speech he had a head start. Mordecai caught up to his as his ship's engines blared to life. Above, the Sith capital ship Raven's Bane, Mordecai's personal flagship, hailed the craft with one simple message. No craft is authorized for takeoff. Disengage your engines. Mordecai crossed his arms, standing in the hanger in clear view of the Sith's cockpit. He didn't speak, as his words would not be heard from here, but he motioned for the Krath to join him outside of the craft. There would be words shared between them here, the veteran Sith hoped, before the Dark Lord saw fit to act on what had happened.

For a moment, the air was quiet. It was true, then, that the Spider had left his web. And while he knew little of Darth Nyrys, the company she kept spoke to her ability. Delta-73 had been one of the few to question his campaign's plan in the war room, and he had shown wisdom in his tactics. That he stood beside her spoke volumes on her own capability as a leader, as he didn't believe the veteran trooper would follow someone who was inept on the battlefield. It also clear from her words that she valued the way of the warrior, and the truth of the Sith. That only through blood can power be gained. He watched the room for a moment, eyeing the other Sith Lords present. He didn't doubt that at least a few of them were likely eyeing her up, gauging if she would cave under the pressure of her position, or if she was even worthy of it. He stepped forward, offering a bow as he did so- a rare sign, for those who had spent time around him. A sign of respect- at the very least, she spoke the truth. The Empire as it was today needed to be trimmed. The previous Dark Lord's machinations were to finally be put to rest. "I am uneasy, allowing these rebels to grow in power. The gambit you suggest has risks. But I have fought them on the field, and over planets both ours and theirs, and our forces are in poor shape. We've had battles that should never have happened, and part of this falls on my own shoulders with this crusade. But rebel infiltrators on Kuat, the loss of Fondor and Mon Cal, and even Korriban is under siege as we hold this meeting. I would criticize this, but at the rate the Spider's empire is crumbling, there would never be a chance for this meeting before our empire was naught but dust. If withdrawing to the shadows is the path to our domination of the Galaxy, then I will back you as long as you prove able." By putting his backing behind the Dark Lady, he achieved two things. First, it would hopefully indicate to those who had served with him in the Outer Rim that this was the correct course of action. Second, it solidified her position as the Dark Lady. Regardless of her capabilities, she was right, and a power vacuum amongst the Sith at a time like this would surely destroy everything he had done so far.

Combat Air Patrol Carrier (Capital ship or cruiser and support craft): |Banshee| Task Force Experience: Green (0 XP) Imperial II Star Destroyer: Banshee |17/25| Heavy Gunship Carrier (Capital ship or cruiser and support craft): |Revenant| Task Force Experience: Green (0 XP) Imperial II Star Destroyer: Revenant |25/25| Precision Strike Carrier Group: |Geist| Task Force Experience: Green (0 XP) Imperial II Star Destroyer: Geist |25/25| Artillery Battery (Incendiary) Cruiser and Support Craft |Melting Iron| Task Force Experience: Green (1XP) Hussar Class Cruiser: Xhal's Influence |10/20| Raider II Corvette: HF-11306 |2/1| Raider II Corvette: HF-11307 |2/1| Artillery Battery (Gravity Crusher) Cruiser and Support Craft |Eye of Sagittarius| Task Force Experience: Veteran (2 XP) Gladiator Star Destroyer: Eye of Sagittarius |10/20| Raider II Corvette: HF-11302 |2/1| Raider II Corvette: HF-11303 |2/1| Fleet Command (Flagship) |Goliath| Augmentation: Axial Weapon (MK-I), Ultra-Heavy Flak Cannons (MK-I), Meditation Chamber Xhendora-Class Dreadnought, Goliath |25/25| Battle Line Escort: Tradition of Excellence |Minotaur| Task Force Experience: Veteran, 3XP Gladiator-Class Star Destroyer, Minotaur |29/24| Legendary Task Force: Project |Apophis| Task Force Experience: Veteran Prototype capital ship, Apep |0/22|

The attack was easy for Mordecai to avoid- he didn't even need to block it. He simply moved to the side as the apprentice hurled himself through the air, and swung at empty air. He retaliated, sending a blow from the hilt of his blade against the back of the man's head- not enough to knock him unconscious, but enough to teach him the error of his ways. He moved away, making distance so that he could speak without interruption. "Do not leap at your opponent- by doing so, you've set your path in stone. Once your feet leave the ground, and fool can track your trajectory. At best, they'll simply move out of the way, as I have. At worst, you'll just end up leaping into the waiting blade of your opponent. It is a fool's tactic, one popularized by the Jedi, though few of them truly know how to fight. No- keep both feet on the ground, and rely on your strength and your fury to push your enemy back, without sacrificing your maneuverability." He began to raise his blade, but sheathed it as he felt a pull in the Force. The Dark Lord called. He looked at his apprentice, motioning him to follow. Their training was over, for now. Indeed, it seemed she wished to hold council with the Sith still on Naboo. That, or she wished to slay them- If the latter was the case, she was certainly welcome to try. He would welcome her open combat more than the Spider's scheming and veiled threats. He silently made his way towards the throne room, growing restless. Twice, he had drawn his blades and they had not tasted blood, and they grew hungry, seeking to feed on the terror and helplessness of his foes. He could spot some of the others as he approached. A man with a host of the dead speaking to a nightsister. He ignored them as a strode past, his apprentice in tow. They climbed the stairs to the throne room, and his rage boiled just beneath the surface. Any would likely feel his coming as he drew nearer. He stepped into the ornate room, standing opposite of the Dark Lord, who's face remained hidden as she stood beside Delta. An interesting pair, he mused. He stayed silent, his eyes no doubt meeting hers through her mask, his gaze unwavering, a silent challenge that if she found him unworthy, she was certainly welcome to try and strip him from his standing. Still, he knew his place. As he was master over his apprentice, the Dark Lord was the master over all Sith. The Spider had left much to be desired, but he knew of Nyrys. He was on Korriban when she devoured the Sith that had threatened her. He remember that her first move as Dark Lord was to join the fray on Naboo, and he was appreciative. She, much more than the Spider ever had, deserved at the very least a chance, and she had yet to give any of them any reason for pause. He knew not the nature of her assent, but whether it was through the slaying of the previous Dark Lord as was customary, or if, as rumored, she had simply stepped into the position after his disappearance, he could certainly thing of less deserving candidates, such as Lady Darksong. No, he would not grovel here, as some Sith were likely to do, but he would pay her the respect that her title deserved, even if he was unsure of if the person behind the title was deserving of it yet. He glanced at his apprentice, a silent warning to watch his words. Sith politics were tricky business, and as he had learned on Kuat, speaking without thought could have catastrophic consequences.

"The Force is a tool, but it is a proud tool, with a long history. It will not bend to those undeserving. You must make it obey, grip it's very essence and use it to manipulate the world around you. Those that can wield the Force are great men and women, the most powerful being in the galaxy. If you think that harnessing that power will be easy, then you must not understand why there are so few, even among your kind, that reach the true heights of power." He stepped forward to the same piece of rubble, which had given the young man so much trouble, gripping it with one hand and with the aid of the Force, lifting it easily, as though it were a hollow decoration. He threw it, and it sailed across the courtyard, shattering as it impacted the ground. He turned back to his apprentice, his face grim. "Such is the smallest taste of power that we wield. But this power marks us as enemies of the Rebels, of the Jedi. In the Empire, there is safety amongst our peers, and a goal to unite us. But alone, we will surely fall. For even the Dark Lord relies on her empire to do what she alone cannot." He drew his blade and held it out. "The Force does many things. This blade is heavy for it's size- the average man would struggle to wield it even with two hands, and yet I can swing it with ease with one. It's name, in the tongue of you people, is Imeall Dólás. The Edge of Sorrow. It is infused with the very Dark Side that we command, and will do my bidding for as long as I continue to fight. When the time comes, you will cast away these vibroblades you carry, and you will wield weapons of Sith Steel such as this." He took a fighting stance, leveling his blade against his apprentice. "Now, strike me. Use the Force to amplify your attack, to speed your movements. Do this, and strike me."

Naboo held a darkness about it now. Before, it had only been Mordecai with the shadow, lashing out after the death of his lover. He was pleased now that the entire planet shared that shadow. Or at least, he was. As their dropship drew closer to the palace, and Mordecai could gaze upon what he had wrought, he felt shame. Not that so many had died by his orders- no, he still believed that they had reaped what they had sowed as people who had sympathized with the Jedi and the Rebel Alliance. No, he felt shame for what he had done to the once beautiful infrastructure. Buildings lie in rubble, the Palace was heavily damages, and the hangar was all but caved in. It would take much time to rebuild, whereas the people could simply be replaced with loyalists. It was a lesson, then. "Behold my fury, young Fiochmar. Sith fleets lay waste to entire planets at my command. But also behold the consequences of such an order. This is the cost of failing to tame your emotions. We are rulers, but it means naught if all you rule over are ashes and rubble. Indeed, I am sure that there will be larger consequences for this slaughter that I will bear on my shoulders." The shuttle shuddered as the ramp slid open, and Mordecai disembarked. It wasn't long before he was met by a young officer, who informed him that the Dark Lord was currently occupied, and that she would see him shortly. Whether it was true, or if this was a move to assert dominance over her lords, he did not care. He had other things to attend to than petty politics while he waited. He turned to Fiochmar, crossing his armored arms. "I have already seen some of your combat ability. Now, show me what you can otherwise do. Lift that stone." he ordered as he gestured to a mid-sized piece of rubble. ((Lift the rubble in any way you see fit. If you use the Force, describe how he harnesses if, what it feels like, how he shapes it. If he at first fails, describe his feelings. His repeated attempts, and what ways he tries to improve. If he succeeds, describe his emotions at doing so, whether it be his first try, or after repeated attempts.))

"Or your demise." Mordecai added. Indeed, failure was the most common outcome of apprentices within the Sith. It was why the Jedi always seemed to have a numerical edge over the Sith forces. Still, the warriors that the Sith produced were much more often incredibly powerful, whereas the Jedi would give anyone who could push a ball with the Force a lightsaber. That much he had seen himself. Indeed, each time he had fought them, they had put up hardly a fight, crushed under his momentum, until he had dueled the girl on Naboo. She had potential- it was a shame the Jedi had found her first. But from what he had witnessed, such warriors were few and far between. He knew the value of a trained warrior well, and had instilled that mentality on his previous apprentice. It had not been without effort, of course, but now she was a functional addition to the Sith. Whether she would continue to perform well, and hold her rank and title, was no longer his concern. It was hers. He glanced back at the boy's question. "Give the co-ordinates to the man attending my ship. He is a loyal soldier, and will retrieve your belongings and meet us at Naboo with them." He walked in silence the rest of the way- there was no time to waste. The sooner he met with the Dark Lord, the sooner he could begin his new apprentice's training, and the sooner he could strengthen the Sith Empire.

The boy did not believe he had lost- Mordecai would have to beat that out of him, it would seem. He took another step forward, before the communicator as his waist let out a high pitched chirp. He froze, narrowing his eyes. It seems that fate had a different plan, at least for now. He let his annoyance flow, bottling it up. It would be useful later, for him to uncork in a storm of fire and fury. A message, from one Darth Nyrys. It seemed that the Dark Lord was ready to make her move. He closed his eyes, centering himself once more. "Very well. We must move, then. I have been called to war. The Dark Lady calls her Lords, and I will answer. In time, you will learn that your bloodline means little to these people. You will fight, and you will live or die based solely on your abilities as a warrior, not on whether you have red skin or not. This is, and always has been, the Sith way." He turned away, moving back towards the nearby settlement. "I am Darth Mavanger. I shall be your master, and I shall teach you to harness the Force as your weapon. You would do well to listen closely, as I am not in the habit of repeating myself. Your training will begin once we are en-route to Naboo."

He could have blocked the blade. It was sloppy, unpracticed. Instead, he chose to make a statement. The blade lodged itself in his shoulder, and pain, a familiar friend, blossomed from the wound. The blade landed squarely, impaling his shoulder. He gripped it with a gauntlet-clad hand, pulling the blade out slowly as he stared down the child. with a sickening wetness, the blade slipped free, and he let it clatter to the ground. He relished the feeling. It fueled him, it drove him further. He took a step closer. His boots left an impact on the very ground that he tread. His blades cut through the fabric of the Force, forged in the ancient ways of the Sith. His blood stained his armor. This was nothing compared to what he had experienced on Naboo. Another step. His gaze never wavered, it never faltered. "Your ancestors were warriors. We claim nothing in your name. What we have, we have taken for ourselves through strength and through power, both of which you know nothing of. I have studied the ancient Sith Lords. You said Clan Ragnos? How would your patron feel if he learned that his legacy had been reduced to this? A mewling welp with no hope of defeating the man he calls a trespasser, for I have died before, and even on the cusp of oblivion, my rage pulled me forth unto a new life. What hope do you have to defeat me? Marka Ragnos was a great man. Someone to aspire to. But his way was not slinking through the jungles of Onderon hoping that his prey was not too strong for him. He pitted his foes against each other. He slew his rivals in single combat, and led grand campaigns to expand the Sith Empire. You struggle to defend what you claim are your borders. You hide, because you fear the empire of your ancestors. And rightfully so- if they saw what I see, they would abandon you for all time." He took another step forward. "You have already lost. In a mere fraction of a second, you have lost your momentum and your weapon. You are weak. Do you truly believe that if I wanted you dead, that I would be unable to achieve such an act? You are a fool. But weakness can be erased. You can teach someone to not be foolish. If you seek glory and power, if you wish for your ancestors to see your glory, then you much reach out and take it. Reclaim the Empire, if you truly believe it is yours. I offer you a chance to learn and to grow, to become more than what you are now, as my apprentice. But know that if you decline, then I will put you into the dirt, as you will be an enemy of the Sith Empire."

Mordecai let out a laugh, unbidden from his chest as he blocked the frenzied attacks from the angry child. He had been no younger when he had set out for Korriban. Those days had been simpler. He had wanted a legacy, to be remembered by generations in the future. But he had grown since then. Now, he saw a larger picture. The Sith Empire was strong, and in keeping it strong, he would leave his mark on this galaxy, whether they remembered his name or not. He moved on the backfoot, not even slightly winded by the attacks. He had form, but he had lost it in his frenzy. He had emotions to harness, but did so sloppily, and it cost him his bladework. These could be remedied. "This is not your jungle. This is the Sith Empire's jungle. By squatting here like a vagrant, you trespass on an empire that spans countless stars and planets. I can only assume you stay here because we have been indifferent to such a small and petty creature claiming dominion. Your ancestors were warriors and sorcerers. They shaped the very galaxy where they walked, they demolished civilizations and defied the Jedi for millennia. If you think they see any glory in lurking through the shadows of what was once their empire, begging for scraps of violence and shouting of their honor, then you do not know their nature as I do." He went on the offensive now. He would show this boy what it meant to stand against the Sith Empire's champion, the Warden of Kuat, the Scourge of the Outer Rim. he rushed forward with a speed one would not expect from a man in heavy armor, drawing on the well of his emotions to empower the Force, which in turn empowered him. Strength surged through his body as he lunged, and he brought down his blades in a series of crushing strikes. One came down overhead, the blade's weight and gravity further enhancing the blow. The second was a thrust towards the Tjsis's abdomen, again the weight assisting with his momentum. It was calming to him, having a real weight behind his attacks now. The last was an underhanded swing, looking to open the boy from hip to shoulder. Maybe under this onslaught of blows, he could see what real power was. What real strength was. What glory truly entailed.

Aggression. A simple emotion. One he knew well. One that called to him from the Force as the man revealed himself, leaping from the trees like some lesser primate. He acted on instinct. The metal let out a hiss as he drew both blades, blocking the man's sloppy swings with practiced ease. He spun away, creating distance between them as he eyed the new arrival. He was young, and of the same race as Lord Akheron. Interesting. A rarity, then. And from the looks of it, he knew how to fight. Already it seemed better than the last whelp he had trained. She had turned into a warrior by his hand. With this, he could do so much more. He stared down the Tjsis, a snarl printed across his face. "Enough!" That single word carried with it a booming power, a presence and authority that a master of the Force commanded. "You shout of glory, and yet you attack an opponent unawares, slinking in the shadows like a lesser creature. You strike at someone not known to be your opponent, and not knowing of their capabilities. Tell me, young man, where is the glory in dying alone in the jungle to a stranger?" He lifted a blade to the Tjsis, its weight a comfort he didn't know he had missed. A lightsaber was many things, but a weapon with impact was not one of them. This gesture was many things. A threat, that if the attacks continued there would be consequences. A challenge, that if the boy thought himself above Darth Mavanger that all he had to do was prove it. And beneath that... An offer to learn. "Tell me, what do you know of glory, hidden away in this jungle?"

Mordecai stalked through the jungles of Onderon with grim determination, searching. Hunting. He had forged his blades in the fires of his fury, and quenched them in the depths of his sorrow. And yet, as he prowled through the jungle, his mind was not yet sated. Still his emotions gnawed at him, tearing at his psyche with dangerous efficiency. His chest still ached, though the wound had been long since healed. A phantom pain, pricking at his nerves in a shameful reminder of his first defeat since his battle over Borleais, all those years ago. He had faced off against the rebel's mightiest champions, their greatest heroes. He had slain their warriors and thwarted their attacks. And yet, that girl had stopped him. She had halted him in his tracks and slain him where he stood. In truth, he did not yet understand the nature of his reincarnation. He longed for the days that Xahl was by his side- the sorcerer would have known. His knowledge of the force had been vast. Another terrible loss for the Sith. Which brought him to these cursed jungles. Prowling. Onderon was rife with Sithspawn whos' hides repelled lightsabers, whos' skin absorbed the Force like a sponge. From such a creature, he could fashion himself armor that would compensate for his aggression. That could halt an enemy's blows as readily as a saber or a shield could. And then, he would be unstoppable. At least, that had been the plan when he had departed. When he had set into the jungle it had been for this task, but it was one he had since abandoned, if only temporarily. For he sensed something else, a quiet presence in the Force. One that while unfamiliar, pulsed with energies that he recognized. There was a force-sensitive in these jungles, and Mordecai would find them. What happened then, only time would tell. He rested his hand against Imeall Dólás, a form of comfort in this unfamiliar environment. His senses needled at him again. His chest was sore, and his heart ached. His rage built. He was close. "Reveal yourself."

The first thing to understand about naturalism is that most Jedi practice it to some degree, and many have their own connections to nature and the natural world without calling themselves Naturalists. The guide below is more intended to be how to write a character that has dedicated themself to these principles to the point of becoming a Naturalist, and many of the unique takes and new abilities are still restricted to the subclass. Jedi Naturalists are pathfinders, explorers, and survivalists. They are often most at home in the wilderness of the countless planets in the galaxy, learning the flora and fauna, the terrain, and the secrets that nature holds. They are often on the more spiritual side of the Jedi, their time spent alone with naught but the company of nature often leading to prolonged periods of introspection that Jedi more connected to the galactic conflict may miss. Within the Order, they serve their roles as scouts and protectors, and as early warning for potential corruption on a planet, whether it be one that the Jedi already have an established presence on or one they have just come to. To this end, many Naturalists forgo the standard lightsaber and much other modern technology and heavy armors, forging their own blades and armor with the aid of the Force to deepen their connection with nature and the Force. Their work often leaves them alone for anywhere between days to months, so many naturalists grow to appreciate this time alone rather than dislike it. That does not mean naturalists are antisocial or awkward, only that they don’t mind long periods of solitude. Animal Bond (All classes): The force surrounds all things, living and not. Through a deep understanding of this, the Naturalist can form a bond with a wild animal, imprinting on it as though they were a parent and growing the bond from there. This is not a domination of the beast- It’s instincts, decisions, and thoughts are its own, the bond is much more a pathway for suggestion that goes both ways. A Jedi can convince their bonded animal not to attack their allies, but that animal’s nature will also be reflected in the Jedi. Most Naturalists pick animals that reflect who they are, and this bond is formed early in a Naturalist’s time. If they are trained for naturalism as a padawan, then they are often guided by their master in the act of creating this bond. Those that learn naturalism on their own often seek out a creature to bond with early in their learning, as forging a bond with another living creature is believed to be a powerful connection to nature. In battle, the bond weakens as the beast’s instincts take over, and maintaining it takes a considerable effort that prevents the naturalist from using more powerful Force powers such as mass telekinesis and heavy physical augmentation, a trade many naturalists are more than happy with. Jedi Alchemy (Consulars and Sentinels): While some naturalists are able to use traditional force healing, many believe that to be the purview of the Order’s healers. Instead, naturalists are adept at crafting elixirs and balms infused with the Force through herbalism to advance the natural healing abilities of the ingredients. While this allows the naturalist to heal wounds and revitalize their wounds at a very efficient rate after intense combat, they are extremely limited by their materials and what they prepared beforehand, as many of the more powerful elixirs and balms that rival a proper healer require incredibly rare ingredients, even for Naturalists to find. Cleansing (Consulars and Sentinels): Naturalists can use their connection with nature to effectively cleanse areas of dark side corruption on a physical level. Corrupted plants and animals, a damaged environment, and other such things that an area with a large Dark Side presence brings on are their speciality, though given enough time without further encroachment, they can cleanse the spiritual taint of the Dark Side as well. Depending on the severity, this can take anywhere from a few days to years of coordinated effort with other naturalists and healers to properly cleanse an area. Poisons and Toxins (All classes): Naturalists are not only familiar with the healing aspects of nature, and are well versed with poisons, toxins, and venoms. This familiarity, plus their natural abilities as force users, allow them to mitigate the effects of such things. They do not use these things themselves, however, as such things are either lethal or incredibly dangerous. Tapas: The ability for a Jedi to keep warm in incredibly cold climates. Not limited to naturalists,nor a powerful force ability, but an important part of their repertoire given that they’re often in uncharted territory where the weather may not be ideal. Nature’s Boon (All classes): Naturalists are able to, in states of deep meditation, influence growth and durability in local fauna, and can encourage them to grow even to specific shapes to be worn as armor. These works are similar in strength to medium armor with minor lightsaber resistance, but are lightweight and do not affect one’s ability to use the Force.