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Zendrin

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Zendrin last won the day on August 31 2020

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  1. Zendrin

    Naboo

    Kahla stood with her chin high on the bridge of the cruiser. watching carefully as they dropped out of hyperspace. Her flesh still burned from the weeks of practice with her droid, though thankfully thus far Vance hadn't managed to kill her. They were only slightly behind Darth Mavanger's war party, trickling in just in time to see the swarm of fighters and dropships make for planetside. A sight troubled her mind, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, long she stared into the massed fleet, studying it. Then, with a wave of understanding, she counted only one Harrower, the Phantom's Spear. Her heart skipped a beat, though she suppressed her outward response to little more than a hard swallow. "Roll out the guns, Burn everything, save for Theed itself." Her stern voice bounced, devoid of empathy. "Prioritize civilian infrastructure." The captain's eyes widened in shock, bad enough already he had to lead such a horrible ship, but this? He hesitated, his mind racing as a bead of cold sweat dripped down the side of his face. He couldn't help but fixate, putting himself in the shoes of these people. The days they've lived and loved, worked and celebrated, he thought back to home, where his younger brother was studying to be a doctor. Where his mother lived her twilight years at home, tending her garden. He froze as Kahla turned to face him, unable to look away, unable to hide the fear in his soul. How long had he hesitated? Seconds? Minutes? Surely there was no turning back now. With all the courage he could muster, his voice cracked out "T- To what end, my lady? They are of no threat to our empire." Kahla locked eyes with the man, her expression unchanging though her head tilted ever so slightly. "Anger makes our enemy reckless, they make mistakes when fury takes hold of their actions. There is no more efficient a method to anger our enemies than to put the innocent in danger." She spoke matter of factly, her voice came so steady in contrast to the shakiness of the captain. "Then there are other options." He proposed. "No. What we do today is reprimand for opposing us so openly on this campaign. As Darth Mavanger has made abundantly clear, this scum should step aside, lest they be trampled under our march." She started to stalk towards the taller captain who fearfully stepped back. "I will not allow such unforgivable, indiscriminate murder of innocent lives!" His voice raised to a shout as he found a foothold to stand his ground. The thoughts of families being so mercilessly torn to pieces. Kahla smiled as she watched his bravery overcome his fear. It was impressive to her, to see someone so devote as to stand against her order. "I respect your decision, Francis, and admire your courage. Thankfully, Captain Numa will carry out my order." His eyes widened as he gasped frantically for air, the thoom of the igniting lightsaber reverberated through the open space of the bridge. At first he didn't feel the burning, but the stench of burning flesh drew his attention the the blade in his stomach. Kahla drew her saber away before quickly stabbing up through his chin. Vera stood, confused at first by her name being preceded with the title of captain, and in an instant she understood. Like a beam of lightning the saber's stabs came, the crimson blaze flashing for only a second before dispelling. His body fell limp to the ground with a tump. The seared flesh smoldered as Kahla turned to the newly appointed captain. "The hospitals will be first, captain." Her voice was so cold, his life meant nothing to the Sith, and his death had no weight on her mind. Vera nodded in affirmation before taking the captain's chair. The smell was revolting, nauseating to the young woman. The infirmary crew came to retrieve the body shortly after Kahla left for the hangar where her Fury Interceptor was waiting, fueled and armed. A chill ran down her spine, the same chill she'd had every time she'd taken the helm. With antipathy she pushed the throttle forward, hatred brewing inside her as she made way for the surface.
  2. Her head turned and twisted as she dwelled on the thought, watching the seasoned lord leave. An anger bubbled up in her, but behind it, shame. He Was Right. She could sit and try to justify herself but it was useless, a waste. She held a title now, but what did that bring to the table? There was nothing to show for. The cup shattered with a loud splash of glass and steeped water, hurled at the wall with the ferocity festering within Kahla. She ripped away the tubing, smashing the monitors as she stood. Her foot fell with a metallic clank. Oney jumped back, outside of combat he wanted little to nothing to do with Sith affairs. She hadn't thought about him, and didn't care to in that moment. She was simply too frustrated to acknowledge his presence. He crossed his arms, unimpressed with her antics. A tantrum won't help. The thought tore through her as she found her balance, a deep breath fills her lungs. She was smarter than this, emotions fueled her but reason trains her, hones the mind and body. Unworthiness filled her soul as she made for her makeshift quarters. She payed no mind to the lifeless eyes that followed her as she made her way. The medical robes she wore weren't kind to her figure, the thin cloth near weightless did little more than cover her. Her footsteps so unsymmetrical, the plap of her bare left foot, and the ring of her prosthetic. It bothered her in a most strange way, it seemed so unreasonable that it dug at her, even with her doing her best to ignore it. The door hissed open with the wave of her hand, she didn't waste any time getting changed. She wouldn't dawn her full robe, leaving the hood and cape behind. She'd lost one of her boots, and while it upset her, she knew she couldn't grow attached to inanimate objects, lest she be consumed by a horde of useless items. As she clipped her lightsabers to her belt, the communicator on her bedside rang out. About Time she thought to herself, haphazardly dropping it into her pouch. As she turned to leave the room the mirror caught her eye. There was a gash on her cheek, burns on her neck. Her hair was a rats nest, an unfamiliar arm reached back and she paused, staring blankly at her reflection. Luck was a terrible word, undeserving came close but couldn't quite grasp the feeling. She had failed, the hand that helped to tie her hair was a mark of shame, not a trophy; one that she would forever wear. She stared angrily at herself for far too long. She wouldn't be able to come to terms with herself here, she could only try to learn, and improve herself. In her mind she stripped herself of the title of Darth, Kahla would have to earn it in her own mind, no one else's. Through the windows she could see the ugliest hauler to fly among her fleets, and it was cleared to dock with the cruiser. Kahla stalked her way to the airlock and waited impatiently for the doors to open. It took restraint to keep her from pacing. Her toes tapped in her boot, her fingers tapped at her thigh. The door hissed, and a grimy, sleezy, short, stout man shouted "Tadaaaa!" with the energy of a used freighter salesman. Kahla's disinterested gaze chipped at his smile, but he pressured on. "My lady, let me introduce you to Vance! The TC-Series Proxy Droid!" He steps to the side, showing off the tall blue, almost skeletal droid. It stepped forward, leaning to an enthusiastic stature. "Greetings, Mistress! It is a Pleasure to meet you!" Without acknowledgement she handed off the credit chit to the gross man. "The price agreed by Harris, No more, no less." The filth smiled, "Go on now Vance, take Care of the lady." He grinned, his yellowed teeth on full display. He bowed, then tturned back to the tin pot he called a ship. Vance stepped out from the airlock, the doors shutting quickly behind him. "I'm most excited to work with you, mistress!" The droid's chipper voice was abrasive in its contrast to the doom and gloom of the cruiser. Kahla straightened her back and finally addressed the droid. "Can you kill me?" She asked plainly. "Of Course mistress! I have many training modules of both Jedi and Sith alike!" The droid said confidently. "Good. Your mission is to do just that. However, There are some rules. You cannot attack me in my sleep, when I'm with company, or am already engaged in combat. If I defeat you, you cannot attack me for the rest of that day, unless instructed otherwise. And you cannot attempt to kill me in a non-lethal spar." Kahla finished, her demands set. Vance was quick to respond. "As you wish, mistress! I can't wait to get started!" She smiled at the droid, she wasn't a fan of the pleasure he seemed to have, but she was sure it would prove a great asset. She began leading it down the halls, and toward the open room she had repurposed into a training ground. "Alright, let's get started." She drew one of her sabers and waited.
  3. The 223-BFDS Blaster Pistol is a heavier gun-slinger's blaster, catering towards outlaws and bounty hunters. A single cartridge feeds the platform as a whole, with enough tibana gas for eighteen primary neon-green bolts. In exchange for its high weight, the pistol has a lot of utility, with an interchangeable secondary weapon system built in. The shooter can choose between a high yield bolt that consumes a third of the cartridge, or, an under-barrel disrupter that consumes the entire cartridge, and won't fire unless the cartridge is full. The blaster features a top rail system for mounting sights, and a built in laser pointer on the frame of the weapon. Due to its specialized nature, the weapon comes at a premium, the disruptor only being available on the black market can easily cost more than the platform itself. (With credit to 'HQ Model' https://www.cgtrader.com/3d-models/military/gun/223-pistol-blaster-pbr (Most prevalent source))
  4. The Phantom's Spear dropped in next to the command ship, the two Harrowers stacked together had a foreboding presence. The Sith Empire is Here. Their late arrival however meant greater risk, but Captain Harris sat lax in his chair. He knew nearly every ship to have ever left a dock inside and out in vivid detail. Strengths, weaknesses; their every capability. His experience in the scrap yards would come in surprisingly useful in his new position. "Cardinal, Deploy a defensive net around yourself and our artillery, the Krayt's Fury and Phantom's Spear can cover each other. Captain Jarvus, Captain Harris, Point us at the action." No small part of him thought Darth Tyra a fool, though he'd never say it. Her fleet was of.. Decent composition, but spread across the galaxy like this was a terrible idea. What was the point anyway? Why not put Trulalis on hold until the full strength of the fleet was ready? At the end of the day it didn't matter, they were here now, and had to be ready for a fight. Thankfully the guns they brought gave them the firepower to compensate. At least, he'd hoped.
  5. With the time she had to relax, the pain that quaked her mind had begun to mellow, and lost in her meditation, delving into the flow of emotion aboard her cruiser she felt his presence. It was almost fun to study the echo in his wake as he quickly navigated the halls of the vessel. Kahla smiled, her fingers metallically clicking as she tapped the arm of the bed. Her grin rose to a smile when he stepped in, letting him the moment to take in before he spoke. "While I am please to see you live yet, I am most disappointed that in the state of our fleet. We have two cruisers with critical damage, and their frigate escorts received damage as well. The should have been virtually no damage against a lone carrier and its escort. What happened?" Kahla let out a gentle sigh. "As much as it pains me to admit; I, and my squadron were simply outmatched. While we did manage to cut down a few of theirs, we suffered the greater loss. My gunboats did well at deterring the bombers, however the faster, more maneuverable fighter-bombers slipped past; with one of the two of course stopping to retrieve yours truly." She reached to her left, retrieving a cup of tea from her side table. Her flesh still burned with the sensation of thawing. Her right hand grasped the bottom of the cup as she brought it to her lips, the dark carbon steel, although outdated was a very beautiful metal. The warmth of the liquid filled her chest, and for the first time since her landing on Korriban she felt calm, and comfortable. Or, maybe that was just the Ludacris amount of painkillers in her system. "My SAR assets are fully equipped for fire suppression, and of course the Xhal's Influence has extensive redundancy in case of... immolation. I won't make any excuses, and I admit to my failing in combat, and in extension the damage to the fleet. I believe however that the fleet will be fully operational in only a few short days." She sat up, setting her cup down as she did so, then leaned in to address Mordecai. "But enough about me, how was your expedition?" She smiled, her genuine interest filling the air.
  6. His perfectly shined boots clicked and thumped as he walked into class. He wore an off putting, toothy grin on his wrinkled face, his grey hair thinning, his shaven face. Everything about him made Kahla stew with anger. And not just him; the lecture hall must have been designed to be uncomfortable, the flat metal chairs, the short desks, cramped conditions. This whole academy was sick. A breeding ground for bullies, people with a sense of self-worth pinned higher than the greatest authority. Everyone came from some big imperial family and boasted about it day in and day out. Being here wasn't her passion, Just get through it she'd tell herself, It'll be worth it. "Today, each of you will experience rapid decompression, and we will test you on what you've learned this module." The room filled with murmurs, which he dismissed quickly with a raised hand. "We will put six students into the airlock at a time, and at the buzzer the emergency vent will engage. Medical staff will be on hand for anyone who should fail this test. Are there any questions?" Next to her, Altis raised her hand. "What's the point of the test? Everything that isn't a fighter is built with such extensive redundancy that the chances of any one of us ever actually putting this knowledge to use are astronomical." "But not zero." he responded, lifting his chin. "And there's a reason for the redundancy, the survivability of command staff is paramount. You, are the final step in that redundancy." Before anyone else could say their piece, two medical officers stepped into the room wearing fully sealed environment suits, and began ushering the class to the airlock. As Altis passed Kahla could feel her anger, like a boat leaving its wake. There was a hint of distain and pettiness, like a light salting on top. Kahla stood and followed her out of the room. When they arrived, the first group was already leaving their seats. Moaning and shivering in their discomfort. Kahla had to wait and watch as near every other student took their plunge. Some of the lesser studied were swiftly rushed to the infirmary, some stepped out pretending they'd never been better, showing off how 'resilient' they are. She knew they were lying, that their reputation meant more than their health. Finally it was her turn to step to the plate. She'd had time to cool her nerves, cover her fears with the sheet of meaninglessness she'd warn to class every day. These chairs were no comfier, one by one they were strapped and buckled in, the inside door sealed shut and the medic gave the go ahead. She drew her last breath, and exhaled everything she could, dumping the air from her lungs. FOOM The door that kept them from the vacuum shot open, all the air left in her system sucked out with extreme force. The sound pulled from her ears, and the cold enveloped her wholly. Each second stretched into eternity, her vision blackened at the edges, and just as she started to feel herself slip into the arms of asphyxiation the door shut, and the vents spilled the air back into the chamber. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Her first moment of consciousness was of immense pain. Her ears bled with the shrieks and screams that immitted from within her. Tears welled in her tightly closed eyes, her every muscle pulling against her restraints. The medical droid had no patience for her bellows of agony, and simply continued working tirelessly on her. With a long needle pushed into her neck, her vision faded again, and the eyrie sensation of dropping through the floor took hold. "... And when the torpedo hit, your fighter nearly disintegrated- well not actually, but, it looked like it. Goliath Two managed to get out of the conflict long enough to pick you up, then slammed the lever home." Her mind pounded against her skull, it felt like it was trying to squeeze itself out through her eye socket. The voice looming over her was only vaguely familiar. One of the pilots? No, this one was too old.. She pondered as the man droned on in her ear, somehow crystal clear against the throbbing of her head. "Oney..?" she mumbled out. "Yeah, had to save your hide again." His voice wasn't serious, but it definitely wasn't just a joke either. "Are you my guardian angel?" Kahla strained a grin. "I may as well be! Next time I see you you'll be crawling on a beach, burning to death" The faint chuckle that came from her stabbed at her gut. She knew she wouldn't be up for a while, for sure. Flashes of the last moments in her fighter slammed against her memory. The burning cold the chunks of craft blowing past her. The bright blue planet below her, peaceful, uncaring of its orbital conflict. She could see a storm brewing, and in the same glance, the sun reflecting of the diamond blue ocean. It was beautiful. The silence only seemed to amplify the image, burning its every detail into her memory. Maybe that pilot was a true ace, experienced in their field... Maybe if things were different, I'd offer a drink at the bar when this was over, share our stories. Kahla laid and reflected on the battle. This time things felt different. She had no ill-will towards the pilot that shot her down, it wasn't personal. It felt more like a friendly game of Dejarik. There was no competition, no need to boast, to tell herself how much better she was because of her position. She enjoyed her reflection, studying on it in her mind, the emotions, and the physical battle. It seemed a fitting change of pace, it felt... Mature.
  7. Her cackle masking the tone of the enemy lock, and in her hubris hadn't noticed until her craft shook violently from the impact, her shields taking the brunt of the damage. Without so much as a thought she deployed her flaps and slammed the stick back, bringing her nose over tail and completely killing all her momentum. As soon as she saw the belly of her pursuer she pushed the stick forward and slammed on the thrusters. bringing her behind the X-Wing in a dive. Unfortunately she hadn't taken Bishop into account; and the bolts intended for herself hit him relentlessly. In a blaze of melted durrasteel and black-gold radiators his fighter was vaporized. "One-Three is down! Bishop's Down!" Kahla tried to ignore One-Two's call at first, but the worry in his voice was unmistakable. "A warriors death for an accomplished pilot" she called back. Hopefully his death could be an inspiration, but she couldn't be sure until the wing returns. Her focus turned back to the dogfight, she'd just begun to pull back from the dive of the cobra maneuver, and aimed to hit the underside of the fighter. The right wing cannon had jammed, but the bolts that came from the other three would be more than adequate. "One-One, Sit-rep." Kahla peeled off, quickly assessing the damage. A fire, and electrical damage on her right side. "Fire, ECM down, cannon four jammed." she called back as she turned to re-engage. She put all power into the cannons, and In her grip she crushed down on the trigger, unchaining the rabid dog of her laser cannons which quickly overheated as the fire suppression came on. ((3)) ((Had a great time, glad we did this.))
  8. The X-wing zipped past and Kahla could almost make out the markings that lined its mildly stripped armour. Not nearly as elegant a craft like her own, but there was something to be said for its personality. This was no starship show, though, and as the fighter lined up on hers, Kahla slammed the throttle forward, gripping down on the afterburners trigger as she lifted her right wing into a knife maneuver. She'd hoped to evade the coming blast by picking her momentum back up out of the roll. The first of the three blasts clipped the deployed radiator, causing her shield to flare. She snapped her attention to the readout as it flashed and dropped by 40%. A call came from the make shift carrier, a young operator sat comfy in the flight tower. "Gunboats are away and on an intercept course." The map readout showed two friendly Fury-Class signatures. Good, another screen to sieve them through. The ECM fighters put almost full power into their prograde thrusters, making a mad-dog rush for the enemy fleet. What power they held in reserve went into rear shields, hoping to combat the inevitable incoming fire. Kahla pulled hard on the stick, tightly climbing to face the X-wing. She knew she needed to draw the fight back into their territory, but running was a death sentence. Quickly she put power into her forward guns, and squeezed the trigger until the console flashed heat warnings, her targeting system rang out not a moment before the fighters met again, "Fox One!" she called loudly, her missile launching just a split second before she passed by. A half roll before another tight incline sent her screeching towards the cruiser group again. Her power quickly switched to forward thrust, and her shield to full rear. As she lined up a volley of bright orange streaks whipped past, slamming into one of the cruisers and lighting it ablaze. In front of her a fighter was squaring up on One-Three. "Bishop, I have your tail." she called as she fired two bursts of cannon bolts at the trailing fighter's engines. Her heart raced like the beating of a war drum, the thrill of the chaos swept under her, her grip tight on the flight controls, her palms sweating and a cackle slipping from her lips as she let loose another burst of laser fire. ((2))
  9. The hail came in from their lead cruiser, "Standard formation, little ones in front, big ones in back. Good luck Legion" Kahla looked down, her screens glowed red with the silhouettes of the fighter compliment, with bombers following close behind. The leader in her sights, she was first to lock. She launched her first missile, and she'd have to hold radar lock for her missiles to connect, so she gradually slowed the formation, and directed her shields full front. The console blinked and buzzed with incoming alerts. Two torpedoes had her name scorn into their shells. "One-Two, One-Three, Activate ECM pods, One-Four, One-Five, ready flares for near impact." Her orders sharp and to the point as she flicked her countermeasures switch. The enemy flight was baring down on them, though, and they only had a moment to react. Seconds before the first volley of torpedoes impacted, Kahla made the call; "One-Four, One-Five, Pop flares, break and engage the fighters! One-Two, One-Three, focus those bombers!" Indiscriminately she fired a salvo from her quad laser cannons as she dove and rolled, corkscrewing in an attempt to get beneath the enemy formation and force them back. Switching her shields back to full, she hastily called to the artillery cruiser "Load incendiary, hit their fleet with everything you've got!" ((1))
  10. "You trust me enough to fly the damn thing, don't you?" Harris lifted his arms to embellish his point. "It'll be Fine" Kahla wasn't to big a fan of leaving her main fleet, separate herself from it. But, Harris had proven an accomplished captain. "You're right. Just remember-" "Fifty K if I scratch the paint, I know" Harris interjected, pushing his luck against the new Darth. Kahla stayed quiet, lifting her chin and grinning as she boarded her interceptor. The flight was short, herself at the stick; she set down aboard the Wretched Litch and made her way to the bridge. As Darth Mavanger's fleet jumped to hyperspace Kahla took the command seat, calmly she asked the pilots to follow them through as she leaned back, taking a last look at the planet below them for a time. They came out of hyperspace in standard formation, Kahla rose to take in the sights. She'd not heard much of the planet, most of what she knew was in the briefing package sent her way. It was peaceful, beautiful, even. She drew a breath of the recycled air and held it for a moment. "Darth Tyra, meet me on the surface while our forces deliver our ultimatum. I have learned of a most interesting opportunity." She exhaled, listening to the ring of her new name as she made her way to the hangar. She hadn't anything to say, though the prospect of 'interesting opportunity' did catch her attention. With all the planets in their sights, that Darth Mavanger found this one, in particular, to be interesting; her curiosity got the better of her. She pondered as she stalked the halls, but before long her mind was grounded again. Her communicator buzzed, just as the klaxons blared, "Darth Tyra, you have new orders- assist in the orbital battle. I will ensure that our operations on the ground remain uncontested." "Then I shall grind them into dust." she responded quickly. Orders? She thought to herself. So much for equals.. She raised her communicator "Hangar, prepare my fighter, have a squadron ready to launch behind me." She paused only a moment to switch channels "All ships, Raise Hell upon this scum." She took little care in securing the link. In fact, she'd nearly hoped the rebels could her order. She grinned wide, just picturing the inferno soon to be inflicted. It was a sight to rival even that of her Fury Class; a beautiful resurrection of ancient Sith fighters, at the forefront was the elegantly orange detailed fighter she called her own. A twin pinstripe center of the craft, Sith texts etched in crimson lined its wings. She smiled proudly as she masked her face with the rebreather, the flight seat fitting to her every curve perfectly. Her heart raced as she gripped the stick. "Legion One-One to all wings, pick your targets carefully, some of those that you will face today call themselves aces. We will test their mettle." The engines screeched to life, and the hunt was on.
  11. Kahla watched silently as she watched Darth Mavanger's shuttle depart for Geonosis. There were hushed reports of a potential scorched earth scheme from the planet's inhabitants. This was hardly a fight though, if Mordecai was going in person then there was no need for her to interfere. In the months leading up to their arrival, Kahla had spent a lot of her time focusing on her training, teaching herself to use the weapons gifted to her. It was difficult at first, forcing herself the elegance of not one, but two sabers. Often in her frustration she'd leave one at her side and continue using only a single blade. Although at first she thought it a bad habit she needed to curb, she started to lean into it. It would take her more time than she had already to perfect her new found fighting style, but the taste deception of switching sabers and stances mid combat was an alluring flavor. Kahla had forced herself to become ambidextrous in her off time, using her off hand for day to day activities. Everything from writing, to eating and drinking. Her excitement grew each day, just waiting until the day she can unveil her tricks. Alongside her promotion to Darth, she had anointed her squad with the title of Elite. Befitting their new title, she had commissioned the armor of royal Sith guards, a light crimson red armor, with large pauldrons adorn their left shoulder, their equipment was stronger, more battle capable, while still not compromising their speed. Upon her gift to the squad, she called a private calibration, and for three days they drank and loudly shared rousing stories from their past. A photo now rested on Kahla's mantle, the seven of them with smiles on their faces, cheering and enjoying each other's company. After her moment of reflection, she thought a moment, then turned to Harris. "All your experience on Raxus, perhaps you'd have a contact here in the factories?" Harris stopped to think a moment, then in his usual grizzled pride he assured "I think I can dig something up, what could I get for you?" Kahla looked back to the orange surface "A droid, something saber resistant maybe. I've heard rumors of an old Proxy droid, a Sith training droid used by the old Empire." Harris pondered, his hand running through his grizzled beard. "I'll find it, let you know when I do. Just remember, droid like that won't come cheap." She smiled, "I wouldn't expect any less."
  12. Zendrin

    Kuat

    Kahla continued her stride, her eyes unshifting and her emotions held back by a great iron curtain of resolve. At his command, she halted, freezing at attention as she'd been trained day in and day out. "Kneel" His voice called, steely and unfeeling. Although a slight hesitation locked her knees, she did as he commanded, her heart raced as she bowed her head, awaiting the blood red light to echo off the walls of the bridge. His footsteps drowned out in the rush of blood rushing through her ears. He circled her before pulling her saber away, likely to examine it. "Kahla Zendrin, you never earned this saber. It was gifted to you by another Sith for the mere accomplishment of landing on the sands of Korriban. This is not your weapon. It never was, and it shall never be." Kahla visibly flinched when she heard Mordecai's blade ignite and swish in one fluid movement. The metallic clinking caught her off guard, and as she looked to the fuming corpse of her Lightsaber's hilt a dread came over her. "It is a shame that your deeds and your victories were not acquired with your own blade." As he spoke, his voice raised, much like his many great speeches. She looked up to him, a strong look of confusion stricken on her face as she watched him reach for a seemingly out of place satchel he carried. "For a Sith Warrior such as you or I, our weapon is more than a tool. It is an extension of our body, the means through which we enact our wills." Her eyes widened, her jaw fell as he retrieved the ebony hilts from the bag, Short, stubbed pummels with gilded engraving wrapping its way to the chamber, with its glowing red crystal visible between the rounded switch and the edge like, pointed emitter. She examined them long as she took them into her hands, Mordecai continuing. "It is with pride that I rectify this situation. Under my wing you have grown from an Imperial mongrel to a true Sith. I hereby declare you a Sith Lord. Rise, and you shall no longer be Kahla Zendrin, an Imperial traitor. You shall be Darth Tyra, a warrior for the Sith and an instrument of destruction to be wielded against any who would defy the Sith Empire. Your fleet is yours to command, though you will always have a place here, amongst my forces. Go forth and wage war in the name of the Sith Empire." Kahla- Darth Tyra, rose stoically, her shoulders rolled as she lifted her chin. "I look forward to serving along side you as an equal, Darth Mavanger." The wave of excitement began to hit her like a ton of bricks, a grin slowly stretched across her face, and this time she'd let it. No longer was this the first steps of her journey, but now, the full stride of her own life long campaign. Some time had passed since the ceremony, though the pride she strode with hadn't left her. Kahla had taken the time to move her personal effects to the Phantom's Spear, the ship's suite set aside for herself. She couldn't stand the thought of staying at Kuat any longer, and so as she reached the bridge of her own flag ship, giving a long nod to Captain Harris, she hailed the Krayt's Fury and hastily requested their next destination.
  13. Zendrin

    Kuat

    Her shadow danced the recurring walls as she powerfully paced the endless corridors of steel and blinking lights. Her tattered and burnt cloak flowed in the current of recycled air she left behind her. A storm brewed in her mind, never able to pinpoint a single thought. The faceless, meaningless blobs of flesh and uniform never drawing her eye from the toes of her melted rubbered boots. The thudding of her heels echoing in her mind to the beat of her footsteps thundered in her ears. And she paced. There was a single thought that clung relentlessly. The Dark Lord himself granted this single warship his presence, and her Teacher, her Master, stood almost a wall against him. The thought of the politics dizzied her head, again losing herself in thought after thought. What is he Doing?! Her mind echoed. All this time she would follow him blindly, trusting in his judgement, but what abys was he leading her into now? She knew so little of his vision, but what other path could she follow? She fell into her bed nearly unknowing that she'd made it to her quarters. Once triumphed, Once fallen she engraved into the Kashyyyk wood that held her first duel's prize. As she stared deep into the every grain of the Glaive she'd claimed, she felt Mordecai's presence building. There was no knock, only his voice. Her ears twitched as he addressed her through the door. "Kahla, report to the bridge immediately. Bring the saber." A deep breath filled her chest, and calmly she let loose the air. She adorned new robes, the feeling of the silken cloth against her skin seemed to dry her throat. Swallowing hard she pulled the saber to her hand. She stalked the halls, flashing meaningless glares to all she passed on her way to the bridge. The door hissed open, and lining the bridge, the war council and officers of the Krayt's Fury. One last great humiliation, to be sure; her chin dipped, her eyes locked to Mordecai's. Kahla pressed on, unflinching and more resilient than she'd ever strode before.
  14. Zendrin

    Kuat

    As she came down from the ramp she knew she'd caught her master's attention. The air was filled with a somber sentiment, much less the dread and fury that Kahla had come to be familiar with. She did what she could to hide the slight limp as she made her way slowly down the ramp. That eerie feeling of eyes looking onto her from all around had Kahla cautious, but she knew her failure, she couldn't hide it. Mordecai's stride was foretelling, much less his usual aggressive march; something was wrong, not just in Kahla's failure. Her heart skipped as he placed his hand on her shoulder, a gesture she had never seen from him. Finally she'd met her masters saddened gaze as he nodded, the grief in the air around him cut through her feelings of failure. "Lord Xahl has fallen, Kahla. Come with me." It took a moment for the words to sink in, as they did Kahla could feel her emotions sink into a bottomless pit. She knew only very little of Xahl, yet still his loss punctured her. He had been the first fallen Sith she'd personally known. She followed him back, joining at the front of the now gathered crowd. She couldn't bring herself to look upon the man's body. Addressing the crowd, Mordecai made point of the actions of their enemy, the devastation they'd faced, and will continue to face. And then, a rising vengeance; Lord Xahl would be a true martyr of their cause, his views now at the forefront of their crusade. Capping the speech with all but a direct threat to the Rebels, the hangar erupted with great cheer. As emotions rose and voices cried out, Kahla couldn't help herself, and let out a roar of confidence. Xahl's body was carried gently aboard the waiting shuttle, and as it lifted itself from the decking, a low voice started calling from behind. It wasn't long before the words echoed into a chant across the hangars floor. While Kahla chose not to take part in this ritual, the empowerment of clamoring came to strengthen her resolve once more. Not unlike adrenaline coursing through her veins, the moment let her forget her pain to the extent of feeling healed. She watched the shuttle drift towards the sun she grew up under, and the noise calmed. Not but a few seconds had passed before another cheer came over as they watched the Rebel fleets turn tail and run. Kahla smiled wide, as in the face of her failure, was a much greater victory. She knew her own fleet was a major contribution, and the man she'd put at her helm fit his roll perfectly. A great presence shifted in the roaring behind her, slowly she turned to see the break in the crowd. She stepped aside for the giant scarred man, as his attention was unmistakably on her master. Kahla's heart sank, though she knew only that the man had almost an all-powerful presence in the force. She stared, enthralled in the man's great potency, anticipating the duo's next moves.
  15. Zendrin

    Kuat

    This was it; the drive yards had claimed her. She slowly came back to consciousness, but her energy was failing her. Her eyes wouldn't open, and all she she could do was lay in her misery, and listen to the rising sound of trooper's boots. They're coming to take me Kahla told herself. From Sith, to prisoner, all in but an instant... The thumping grew louder, she could feel their presence, standing over her. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but she knew as she was lifted from the ground by her arms, it was only a matter of time now until some Rebel scum laughed in her face. Her feet dragged, and she was helpless to stand. As the bootsteps echoed in the halls, Kahla's rage smoldered inside her. Had she really given up so easily? Given in to Kuat's call without so much as a fight? These were just troopers! She could cut them down, with or without her saber! Inside her festered the hatred of this place, it bubbled in her soul, boiling her blood. Her muscles tensed, she was ready to fight for her very life. From deep within her she called a primal roar, her boot stomping down into the plating of the halls. Before she had even opened her eyes, she had flung the trooper to her left against the wall, in her right hand she gripped a man's throat. She tightened her grasp as she stood, she could feel the air being cut off from his lungs. "Lady Zendrin!" She froze. Her heart sank as she opened her eyes. The black helmets of the Sith troopers under her command stood expressionless as ever, staring at her. Immediately she releases her grip, on his hands and knees the man hastily pulls off his helmet gasps for air. The Staff Sargent, who was leading them through the halls, speaks up. "The Rebels are retreating, the Sith empire still holds Kuat. Darth Mavanger has requested your return to the Krayt's Fury." He seemed to have little care for the man choking on the ground next to Kahla, perhaps this is just what he'd expected from the Sith. "Good, good.." She clears her throat "I.. Apologies, for the outburst. I had thought-" "It's fine." He interrupts. Kahla stared blankly at him a moment, disappointed at his disruption. She looked down to the blonde haired trooper, he had caught his breath, and was sliding his helmet back on. Kahla stretched out a hand, offering to help him up, but he ignored it, standing on his own. The Staff Sargent broke the silence. "I'm sure your master would be none to pleased that you'd lost this." He held in his hand her lightsaber. She took it from him, placing it back to her belt. "I'm sure he wouldn't." The adrenaline had waned by now, and as she went for a step, she faltered. Caught on her left by the trooper she had thrown, he helped her up, and they continued down the hall. The only sound breaking the silence were their collective footsteps, and Kahla's occasional grunt of pain. They returned to her interceptor, the medic tended to her wounded flesh as the Staff Sargent flew them back to Mordecai's flagship. With no windows for her to peer threw, Kahla's concern chafed in her mind. Had she lost her closest, perhaps only friend in the battle? And what of her fleet? Why not return to her own ships? But she had little time, the medic gave her okay and she stood as the landing ramp extended. She stepped out into the hangar, awaiting the belittlement from her master.
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