Bishop Of Battle

OOC: God you all are a bunch of over zealous wankers. You haven't even been told the effects of what has happened and you are allready posting like you're holding a script. If this post clashes with what happens in your post, sucks for you. You should have waited to see what happened. "Piacere il suo parco di festering." *Impressive as Tares' feat of fortitude and concentration was, Bishop remained standing. His blind gaze held the same point it had when he cast arc of Force lightning upon them. The hanging jaw was posed in a most uncomfortable gape. The Jedi fell from both exhaustion and the burns sufferred, those around him writhing in similar agony, though the blast had ceased to ignite the air. Turmoil abounded as Raynuk moved away to attend to his own agenda. The failure of Bishop's chest to rise and fall with each breathe seemed obvious now in his stillness and reminded those who knew of other moments when he similarly acted without pausing to breath. The coldness of his body made more sense now than it ever had before. The whited eyes, dried skin, and dead features were understood. Like a marionette's strings cut, the long dead corpse of Bishop buckled upon itself on the way to the ground. No symbolic guesture graced its position. His face did not turn to the sky as a sign of release. A shadow did not fall over him to show his consumption by darkness. He simply ended.*

*Bishop's eyes narrowed as Blckclone's shackles fell to the ground between them. Their ensuing antics washed over him. He twitched his head away from the group, twisting it around the long way to face them with a single step to facilitate the body movment. He brought his gaze up to the largest mass of the assembled Jedi, dipping his head to one side a bit.* "An exorcism, how interesting." *His attention didn't divert when Raynuk placed himself between Bishop and the Jedi. Even the Sith Master did not speak of things he fully understood. None of them understood the position they had themselves in now. Bishop shrugged and rolled his shoulders, as though passing off a particularly tough muscle cramp. Khorn began the act of sucking away the energy that had gathered in this place. The act in itself was not important. It could allways be drained from him again after the fact. The diverging flow of the Force, though, caught all of the Jedi and Sith off guard, feeling much the same as though they were loosing their powers for the moment. Bishop's stoicism did not falter.* "You cannot cast the soul of a body out as you would a demon. It is too inexplicably bound." *The dark shell the Jedi pushed so heavily upon surged back against their will, fighting the whole of their attempts. Bishop's gaze finally fell down to Blckclone, who in all the chaos had not moved from his position. Too intent on fighting Bishop in other ways. Bishop's face remained the same as he reached up shraply, grabbing the wookie skull in his mechanical hand. His steel thumb found hold in the burned right eye socket. His back straightened and his face raised up towards the clouding skies as he twisted down, straining the neck of the Jedi who focused most on the gambit they were taking. The popping vertebrae marked the end as the spinal chord was shreaded by breaking bones. Bishop pulled his hand back to his side, his fingers dragging the shattered remains a moment before Blckclone's corpse fell to the ground. The face of the Dark Lord twisted on itself at the new death, his focus turning inward for a moment. His mouth dropped open, slack jawwed, as he brought his wide eyes up to regard the seven Jedi that remained. His left hand lifted to his cheek, pressing at first lightly then with increasing intensity as his elbow raised slowly to extend fully over his head. His fingers grasped through his matted and greying hairs and against his pale and leathery skin.* "The Sith who brings me the most worthy collection of Jedi heads will become the heir to my throne." *His left hand pulled away from his face, which was left in much the same expression, and a charge of Force lightning sparkled from his finger tips. The tendrils of energy lunged hungrily for Jedi padawan and master alike.*

*Bishop turned up to the Jedi masters eyes, but those white moons illuminated nothing in Bishop's soul. The eyes that stared back in neither fear of his chants or disdain of his mutterings held nothing. The emptiness the wookie saw at that moment was nearly as disturbing as the jolt of nausia and pain that Ahriman's cuffs instilled in him when the Jedi drew upon the Force for his display. Mighty though the wookie's body was, even it was no match for the strength afforded by unrestricted access to the Force and the technological might captured in Bishop's right arm. Steadily, he pulled back and down on Blckclone's head until the Jedi had the choice of either falling backwards off his feet or kneeling. Releasing his grasp, Bishop tenderly dragged his fingers around the wookie's skull until they reached the dark leathery lips. The light pressure muddling their movement.* "The light cannot reach me down here." *With the same slow and subtle movement, Bishop's fingers pressed through Blckclone's lips, applying the same pressure to his tounge. The metal fingers tasted sharply of steel, dirt, and rusted blood. The fingers stroked down gently over Blckclone's tounge, allowing the taste to soak through, his thumb resting on the bottom of the wookie's jaw. Bishop's head shifted slightly to the other side, still looking upon the wookie when his grip, for the first time caused pain. The Dark Lord of the Sith's features did not twist or alter. They did not frown and show sadness at the pain reeked. Nor did they twist in a grin of malicious delight. They stayed. Blckclone's lower jaw seperated from his face in a semi fluid motion. Hiccuping first when the joint was forced to discconnect from the skull and second when the flesh finished streching and began to tear. Bishop held the jaw up by his chest, the blood that remained dribbling slightly onto the stones at his feet. Several of the teeth cracked under his mechanical grip. He held it a moment longer, then flicked his arm to the side to discard it. The lower mandable bounced once on the ground, rolled twice, and settled on the toe of Jaina's boot where she stood with Raynuk. Bishop's twin voids finally turned away from Blckclone, leaving him alive and alone in the center of the ceremonial grounds next to the Dark Lord.*

*Bishop's left fingers twitched slightly while standing next to Malvagio during the address. When it ceased, he popped his head to one side, as though loosening a muscle in that one motion. The stroke became a turn that carried him around to face the Jedi and Ahriman lined with those who had chosen to become his pupils. Eight Jedi stood there, recovering each at varying speeds from the effects of the trap. The two noble Jedi Masters, Blckclone and Tares. The five who had followed them to Arbra, Goodwood, Ryoo, Skye, Nom, and Keiran. The once Sith who now believed he could clense the darkness that tainted him, Nashtaa. Their bonds kept each, and their powers, in check. He came before the Wookie master, raising his cold right hand alongside the Blckclone's face. The metal finger tips pressed through the thick fur and onto the side of his head while Bishop tipped his blind eyes to the other side. His fingers carressed along the woozy wookie's cheek bone and the ear buried within the fur. The entire palm came to lay on his face before sliding around behind his head and taking a full handful of the wookie's fur and flesh and forcibly pulling him out of line and dragging him out to the center of the ceremonial grounds. His hand still held tightly, and he pulled back on Blckclone's head so that, no matter what state the Jedi might still be in after the gas attack, everyone in the surrounding area could see his face clearly. Bishop turned his face away from the wookie, looking back to where both Ahriman and Malvagio stood at the head of the ceremonial grounds.*

*Bishop and Malvagio paused motionlessly at the head of the ceremonial grounds, observing the gathering Sith passively. It was not until near all of the gathered Sith were around that they began to move. Bishop's eyes passed the group, eventually coming into contact with Raynuk's. Raynuk's eyes were full of hatred and brimming over with anger defensively. But the Dark Lord of the Sith seemed largely uninterested in either him or the shadow behind him. He seemed most interested in Tzeentch's ship, which had been set down a short distance away.* Bring them to me.

*The Sith temple on Mimban had stood docile for quite some time now. The winds that swept the stones carried a weary and empty silence to them. For many of the Mimbanites below, the belief that they had been abandoned or, for some, finally seen the end of the gods that plauged them began to dance in their minds. But their illusion was broken with the first fire in the sky. The clouds glowed with more than just shifting patterns of lightning. They echoed with the sound of fire. The clouds broke like piereced cloth, desperately clinging to the tail of the ship before slipping back to the sky. The ship did not even set down in the Sith hanger, instead setting down to the side of the old ceremonial grounds. The loading ramp dropped and the two passangers were preceeded by a twin pair of crates which carried themselves over the ground to the pits. Behind them filed a half dozen or so cages so cordially provided by the Empire. Rain spun in the clouds above, but the winds kept it from falling to the ground below. Instead the humidity scattered the lightning in the sky, further lighting the area. One of the four fire basins surrounding the pit ignited when Bishop approached and raised his hand. He guestured simply and the other four ignited as a ball of fire lept between each shallow bowl of oil.*

"Have you heard of the planet Abra, Tarrian? I sent Raynuk there some time ago, but he has not reported back. Probably lost in the jungles. For now, another Sith waits there for our arrival." *Bishop, still, had not moved to face her other than a slight tilt of his head in her direction.*

*With his feet planted firmly in place, only Bishop's head moved slightly around on its axis as Tarrian walked. His gaze lagged a bit behind her body and tipped down ever so slightly. He crossed his arms almost delicately as she moved, as though waiting for her to finish her walk before speaking.* "There are many slaves waiting to be taken in many places, Tarrian."

*Bishop's heals stung the stone with heavy metallic clicks as he decended into the ground with Malvagio. The close walls reverberated the steps like the sounds of shaking chains. His hands were not clasped delicately behind his back as Malvagio's were. They swung with each stride, revealed now that the cloak which had once hidden his body had been discarded aboard his ship. He was limited now to the clothes he wore strapped tight to his legs chest and arm. His right arm glinted dully in the lights they passed, the limb revealed in full. With intense purpouse, his blind eyes stared straight forward. His loose, matted, greying hair swirled behind him in the stagnant air when the pair turned the corner into the temple's hall where Tarrian stood. Stopping momentarily in the hall, the two turned towards and approached the academy's matron.*

*As Malvagio finished the second of two comm's with Gene, the pair made their way to the hanger bay. The two were silent beyond that, moving together onto Bishop's personal ship. Malvagio took the pilot seat and together the two left Mimban for the time.*

*As the Sith left, John approached, entering the throne room. Bishop's gaze followed him the entire way in.* "Very good John. See to it that the first set are delivered to Raxus Prime and make sure that the Sith I sent there are doing their jobs as ordered. If not, report back to me and they will be dealt with while you oversee the temple's construction in their stead."

*Bishop looked over the faces of contempt, those who believed themselves trained in the Sith doctrines of deceit and cunning yet couldn't hide their own feelings. Who couldn't hide the disdain they held for someone they knew nothing of. Who couldn't even quell their lust for power which would invariably end them.* "I am here to lead you to your destiny. You may look at me as the keeper of keys, the pathfinder, or even a god. But destiny waits for none but the most powerful, those who create destiny as they see it to be. I am here to carve the destiny of the Sith into the history of the universe." *The corners of a cunning grin twisted his lips. He extended his right arm, metal fingers spread wide as though to gesture and point at each particular Sith in the room.* "Every one of you shall have a place in this process, to serve me. The first steps may be simple, but that makes them no less crucial." *With full strides, Bishop stepped towards where the Sith stood or kneeled. His blind gaze swept over each one, piercing them as though he could see their innermost secrets. He pointed at Impede and then at Gene.* "You will go to the forest moon, Endor. There you will oversee the construction of a great temple with slaves taken from the indigenous population." *He stepped along the line of Sith, pointing next to Nurgle and Piro, then onto Kaze and Vauler, addressing them each with their tasks in order.* "You will establish another temple on the waste planet, Raxus Prime on the ruins of the dark tower once placed there. Slave labor will be delivered to you to assist in construction. The two of you will go to Arbra, where you will assist Raynuk in claiming the lands and oversee the mining operation there as well as constructing a third temple." *Bishop had come to the end of the line of present Sith, he cocked his head back around, looking the way he had come. With slow purpose, his body turned through a few steps to face them all. The ridge of metal alongside his head dully reflected the dim light of the room.* ”œMalvagio will provide you all with the plans and steps to be taken in the construction of each temple. Deviations from them will not be tolerated. Remember, you are not doing this for yourselves. You are doing this for your place in destiny.”

*Finally, after long moments of silence, Bishop turned towards the group of gathered Sith. Malvagio still worked with the datapad over the throne's broken remains. The Dark Lord surveyed the group gathered before him and those still trickling in. It was not, however, until Malvagio stood and came to stand next to him that he finally spoke.* "There is a destiny, for each and every Sith in this room. One destined to lead to the greatest moment in the order's and, in fact, the universe's history. All that remains is for it to be taken and made from thought into fact. Yet, the Sith are torpid. As history has shown, you accomplish nothing despite the opportunities presented to you. You wait for someone to lead you to greatness, but never seek to make your way there. If it were not for the occasional, conveniently timed invasions of an alien army, I am sure the you all would content yourselves to lay about and do nothing." *He took a step forward, shifting his weight. The pale whites of his revealed eyes roamed the group, as though hungering. His brown hair, fading into a dirty gray slid limply over his shoulders. His shoulders did not rise and fall nor did his chest expand as he stood there silently before them. His upper lip pulled back on one side over his canine tooth, its edges blackened from some rot.* "You believe yourself superior because you hate the Jedi. But I tell you that you are no different than the Jedi."

*Bishop picked up the portable comm as he walked from the room, sending a transmission to Searcy briefly before pocketing it. He walked through the halls with Malvegio, passing Impede as he left his room freshly washed and dressed. When he spoke, there was a moment where Impede would wonder if it was even to he that the Dark Lord spoke. Bishop made no subtle hand guesture in his direction, nor did he shift the angle of his head to address him with his blind eyes. But he spoke, and it could be meant for no other.* "Gather what Sith remain on Mimban. Find them in the temple. Find them in the training halls. Find them in the city outside the dark tower. They all will have a task. All must be present. Bring them all to me." *Bishop continued walking, their stride never changing and his statement to Impede apparrently over. He continued walking along side Malvegio, eventually reaching the still thrashed throne room. There they stopped. There they waited.*

*Leaving Tarrian's room, Bishop made his way to the communications room where he conversed with Raynuk over a lightly encrypted comm.*

*Bishop turned in time with Malvegio, taking the nearby stairwell to the next floor up. He pushed open the door to the semi-vacated room which Tarrian had left only a short while ago. He stood just inside the doorway, looking about the room that still showed signs of dissarray from her earlier explosion. Malvegio stood next to him, slightly closer to the door. Finally locating what he sought, Bishop stepped across the room. His boots creaked on wood and broken pottery. Shuffled through strewn cloth. The crackle of glass shattering sounded underneath his boot in the middle of it all. Wood splintered from the breaking frame and glass scratched the photo's surface. He stopped and dropped his hand down, pulling the archeological records off the table to his hand with the Force. He turned back towards the door and walked out.*

*Rather fluidly, Bishop began to speak. As though he had been waiting for that line to trigger his own. It was as though he continued the conversation where Malvegio left off.* "To begin with, we must establish a Sith presence on a small planet called Arbra. The New Republic sought to keep its presence a secret. However, things like that cannot be kept from every being in this galaxy. There is a race of sentients there. Scatter them, destroy them, or enslave them as you wish."

As if you didn't all know about this place allready. Endor is one of nine moons orbiting a lifeless gas giant in the Moddell sector. A convoluted hyperspace route and the enormous gravity well of its mother planet renders Endor a difficult place to visit, making it an ideal secret construction site for the Empire. Though known as the forest moon, Endor has a wide variety of terrain. Forests cover much of the satellite, but there are also stretches of savannah and desert, as well as frozen ice caps. The moon is teeming with life, including sentient beings such as the Ewoks, their distant cousins the Duloks, and subsentient aliens known as Yuzzums, Goraxes and Teeks. The forest floor becomes a dangerous hunting ground at night, when feral boarwolves, hanadaks and preducors stalk the wilderness for prey. The silvery gas giant is occasionally eclipsed by the winged silhouette of a mantigrue, a harbinger of the evil Night Spirit in Ewok lore. Following their victory at the Battle of Endor, the Rebel Alliance stationed there for a brief period, launching missions under their new name of the Alliance of Free Planets. They eventually relocated, leaving Endor to its quiet existence. Though some intrepid Ewoks left the moon, most stayed behind to live simpler lives. A small trading outpost run by a being known as Salfur keeps open the connection between Endor and the galaxy at large. Secluded in a remote corner of the Outer Rim Territories, the gas giant Endor and its verdant moon of the same name would easily have been overlooked by a busy galaxy were it not for the decisive battle that occurred there. Endor serves as the gravesite of both Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader. It was here that the Rebel Alliance began the path of victory over the Galactic Empire.

*The pale white eyes under the black shroud locked onto Raynuk with unnerving accuracy for a blind man. They jittered side to side in place, though, for the most part, stayed on him. However he did not seem to miss the cloth much, as though he had not noticed it being removed. Or he just didn't care.* "You should be more polite to those you do not know. You, as well as I, know that appearances are quite deceptive. Is that not the way of the Sith themselves? Why not speak to him about who he is." *His body shifted slightly to the side, as though he made to turn towards the talker, but half way through he shifted back towards Raynuk. THe motion became more of a guesture than anything.* "Do not be concerned with your performance on Hoth. It was adaquete for our needs. Now the Jedi will move, and they will be weak, and our plans will continue forward with fewer hitches. When it is time, you will play an important role in the future destiny of the Sith."

*Bishop turned his gaze down to the Sith groveling at his feet. He turned back to the talker, then back down to Searcy.* "Very well. Find John Skywalker. Together, you are tasked to locate suitably expendable slave labor and easily attainable slave labor. Now go." *The Dark Lord turned from the Medical Bay and passed deathly silent through the halls towards where Raynuk was waiting. The talker ever present by his side.* "You wished to speak to me, Raynuk?" *His gaze settled on Raynuk through the black shroud.*

*The droids had started repairing Bishop's broken ribs first, completely fusing each rib into place. As the talker's replacement arm was finished and delivered by a droid, the med droid finished with Bishop's other arm. Without seeming to think much of it, Bishop pulled his lightsaber from his clothes and ignited it. In the same sweeping motion he cleaved what remained of his upper arm at the shoulder, closed the saber, and put it away. The droid picked away at the burned skin, tearing away the layer to allow the blood and muscles underneath to be more directly fused to the replacement. The synthetic arm, armor like in natore with thick overlapping plates spanning what would be each muscle group and portion of the arm. A shield like ridge rose out of the shoulder to half his head height. Tiny servos whirred and clicked into place when he flexed his fingers and arm, then turned from the room. The medical droids powered down, and the lab was left in silence.*

*Passing through the thundering heavens above, Bishop's ship decended towards the docking bay. The talker set it down gently in its spot and the three aboard exited through the rear. Though he had not seemed to notice his wounds at any point before, Bishop started towards the Medical Bay after leaving the hanger.* "Tarrian, I leave you now to establish the academy. When it has been completed and your first batch of initiates selected from the throngs, inform me of your progress." *He continued on to the Medical Bay with the talker, nothing else stirring the air save the step of their boots and the whips of their clothes. One of the medical droids whirred to life on their entry and began to ask the nature of their medical emergency, but stopped upon sight of Bishop's wounds. He spoke to it low and concisely, as though wishing to limit his time in its presence. With droid efficiency, it began to work.*

*The slight corners of a twisted grin appeared on Bishop's face as he watched the dark robed figures approach and then lead Kaylynn away. He turned back into the ship and the loading bay closed. Stepping back into position behind the talker as the ship rose, he tipped his head slightly towards Tarrian as he spoke.* "Soon. Soon we will be back at Mimban, and you can begin... construction of your academy." *Hanging a moment before the stars, the ship blasted into hyperspace.*

*The ship touched down in the icy fields not far from where Kaylynn needed to go. Her father walked with her to the rear of the ship, the ramp activating after a quick command in the Force.* "You will find what you seek not far from here, nor do I have any doubts that you will deal with it quickly. When you are ready to return, contact us and I will see that you are retrieved in short order. There are still so many things to do, and I must see to all of them."

*The loading ramp of Bishop's ship dropped before the four that approached it. Bishop came to stand behind the pilot's seat, but did not take it himself. Instead the talker took the controls as though he had all the working knowledge and comfort with the ship that Bishop himself had. It did not take long for the craft to leave the docking bay and head for space and then on. To war.*