Darth Immolatus

The Twi'lek watched as the colors beneath him began to merge together. Each bright and violent color mixing with the depressing and darks to form a sphere that continued to grow in size. He watched as colors slid over one another, creating an almost beautiful living piece of artwork. ”

The young Twi'lek watched as the earth opened in front of him. He watched as rocks fell in the gaping chasm; buildings that once stood tall, even amidst the madness of this world, fell within seconds, concrete and glass shattering upon impact with the earth. War'lok continued to watch as the newly opened gap in the earth completely changed the landscape. Ink seemed to flood over the edge, giving texture and grain to what was once a flat, pristine white wall. As he turned his attention back to the Kel Dor in front of him, he watched as the energy sword burned one word into the air: JUMP. The thought of insanity crossed his mind as he looked over the gorge. How could any person make it across the gap? Unless he suddenly had wings he did not know of, he would need far greater power than he ever thought possible to leap across that gorge. How could the Kel Dor possibly expect him to make it across? The distance was too vast. As he contemplated the request of suicide by Orik, he could feel the darkness within him stir, excited at the prospect of possible death, and even more so by a display of power. Jump you coward. If you are afraid of death, you will never be able to unlock your true power. Only by conquering your fear of death will you unleash yourself, and will we join forces. The Lethan Twi'lek took off at a run towards the large gap. He could feel his fear coursing through his veins. His blood was boiling as he neared the gorge. Within seconds he was at the edge and he pushed off. He could feel a strength flowing through him as he flew through the air.

The world was suddenly alive with what appeared to be pure darkness. The Lethan Twi'lek watched as it spilled over the edges of invisible buildings giving them true form once more. The whiteness that once ruled the world was continuously being pushed backwards, the two colors never truly meeting. Allowing his hook to fall back he watched as the world around him continued to grow until he could no longer see the whiteness that had once engulfed him. As he made his way through the new world he began to see it for what it truly was: a world that was engulfed by madness. Where even the shadows and the land seemed to breed darkness. Suddenly a horrible voice echoed through the world. It came from everywhere at once. It seemed as if the buildings themselves seemed to speak to him. The heads of the people walking through the city seemed to be looking at him one second, speaking the words of the dark voice, but then with what appeared to be a glitch, static overcame their faces and once more they were facing forward. His mind reeled as it happened thousands of times. If he hadn't know better he would have sworn it was the turning of their neck muscles creating the voice, and static that gave the voice its dark feeling. And then he felt it. He knew there was someone behind him. And this was no ordinary person, it was the creator of the voice, the origin, the source. Quickly whirling behind him he noticed the being emerging from the shadows. This is not the true Master. I can feel his weakness. He is but a shadow of his former self. But he is the path. Only through him will you find the true power. ”œA Kel Dor. I have rarely seen your species off your homeworld. And now to find the soul of one? Interesting.”

As War'lok slowly made his way off the transport shuttle, he noticed a pair of droids. He could tell by their movements that they intended to guide him somewhere, so he hesitantly made his way towards them. Allowing his eyes to roam across the hangar, he noticed symbols had been etched along the walls and above the doorways. He had no idea how to read or what their intent was, but he could feel a darkness radiating from them. Within moments the droids reached him and spoke in a harsh mechanized voice. ”

OOC: Sorry for posting your actions but I want to move things along. IC: As War'lok lay unconscious, Jzora placed him on a small shuttle and arranged for it arrive at the Sith Temple on Coruscant. (Again, sorry for posting your actions.)

As a hand wrapped itself around his lekku, War'lok snapped his eyes open in time to see a wall moving toward him at an alarming speed. Only seconds before impact did he realize it was not the wall moving, but his own body. As darkness began to cover his world, the Lethan Twi'lek heard the whispers once more. Although he knew there could be no emotion behind the whispers, he could detect a faint note of pleasure this time. It has begun at last.

Why am I here? For what purpose do I exist? Was I meant to serve the Clan Council for the rest of my days? Was it my purpose to be a soldier in defense of those too weak to defend themselves? Or was I meant for more? Am I meant to become more than a simple Marshall of Ryloth? If I am, what more can I be.....? "Now landing at the Theed Galactic Starport. Please proceed off the shuttle and make your way through the terminal. Thank you for choosing Rylothian Galactic." The Lethan Twi'lek allowed his eyes to snap open as the announcement was made. His upper lip curled slightly, revealing his sharpened teeth, as he listened to a female of his special chatter on about the tourist hot spots of Naboo. The leku that rested on his chest shifted slightly in irritation. While he did realize and agree that female Twi'leks were among the most beautiful of the galaxies species, he did grow weary of seeing them displayed in every entertainment venue. He sometimes wondered what would happen if his species were suddenly wiped out. How would the galaxy deal without their endless supply of exotic dancers, erotic slaves, and billions of entertainment personas? In his mind, the red-skinned humanoid could see the galaxy spiraling into darkness, billions of beings without companionship, love, affection. A smile graced his lips for a mere moment before turning into a snarl once more. While he could always dream of a galaxy aflame, he knew his dreams were only that. Gripping his luggage case firmly in his hand, War'lok slowly shuffled through the mass of passengers before reaching the exit hatch. He allowed himself to pause for a brief moment, enough time for an attempt by the stewardess to attempt a conversation. Although she remained silent, her lekku spoke in place of her tongue. Had entertainment and relaxation been the focus of his trip to this ”œcivilized”

CHARACTER SHEET Real Name: War'lok Syndulla Nickname: Lord Marshall Age: 279 Species: Lethan Twi'lek Height: 2.0 meters Weight: 160 lbs Skin: Red Eyes: Green Sex: Male Homeworld: Ryloth Alignment: Lawful Evil Clothing: Black Rancor leather boots and trousers, dark blue shimmersilk tunic, black cloak Weapon: vibro-rapier, blaster pistol Force User Inventory: Clothing, credits, weapon Posessions: Clothing, Weapons, Estate on Ryloth

Angelus could feel the wind against his skin as he ran through the hills of Gala. With his enhanced sight he could see the white foam rising in the seas. For some reason he had always loved the sea. He had always been able to take comfort in the roar of the waves, the cool breeze that blew off the water, and the peaceful tranquility that he experienced every visit. He could not explain his love the ocean, but after all these years he had stopped questioning it. Closing his eyes as he ran, he could hear the roar of the sea and a smile cross his face. Within moments, he found himself in front of the Jedi Temple. His golden eyes gazed upon the spires as he took in its magnificence. For months he had been building the courage to approach this glorified building. As he stood before the building he could see dozens of people exiting and entering the building, each cloaked with the brown robes of the Jedi Order. Turning his head upwards, he watched as ships were docked while others hovered for mere moments before blasting through the atmosphere. Turning his attention back to the main door, he began to feel something. He couldn't explain it so he shook it off and made his way into the Temple.

CHARACTER SHEET Real Name: Angelus Darkwolf Nickname: Darkwolf Age: early 20's Species: Biological Experiment Height: 6' 4 Weight: 215 lbs pure muscle Hair: Black Eyes: Yellow Gold Sex: Male Homeworld: Unknown Alignment: Chaotic Good Clothing: Black ankle length great-coat, white undershirt, maroon nerf-hide vest, black commando pants, black combat boots. Weapon: A single Khukri strapped to his hip. Inventory: His single weapon. Possessions: Only his clothes and his weapon. History: Angelus was the final result of the ”œDarkwolf Project”

"I have been well versed in the martial arts. Under the training of the Empire I learned how to handle a blaster as well as small knives. Learning from myself, I have learned how to fight with a staff. That is the extent of my fighting abilties. Although when I was fighting the droideka, I did somehow renenw my energy and make myself stronger." Storm stood before the Dark Lord with respect in his eyes. This mans power was a testament to the Sith and their abilities.

Pain coursed through the young Zabraks body as the small blades of the chainsaw easily cut through his skin. Blood sprayed across his face and along the walls of the temple throne room. Within seconds, the chainsaw reached his shoulder bone and began to seperate his arm from his body. Blood fell to the floor in buckets, soaking the stone floor in the color of anger and passion. When Storm awoke. He remembered the details of his maiming with precise details. He felt every inch if skin and muscle that the weapon chewed away. He heard the rattling as his bones were cut into. He heard the thumb as his arm crashed to the floor. The Dark Lord had cut into the part of his arm that was still alive. The part he had hoped to keep, but nevertheless, the act was done. The cold touch of steel was pressed against the remnants of his shoulder and he felt a small amount of heat, melding the two together. The cold steel had become one with his warm pale skin. rising to his feet, Storm flexed his new arm. Instead of having artificial skin placed over his arm, he had chosen to keep the metalic look. He enjoyed the smooth surface and manioulated the hang in the air. Seeing slight grooves in the surface he thought about what they did and immediately the arms weapons systems were activated. Electricty poured from the fingertips of the arm and coursed through the stone wall before dissipating. Fire leapt from the palms and he watched as the bed caught and fire leapt from wall to wall. A small smile crept over his lips and his dagger like teeth were revealed. After garbing himself with a loose robe and he left the small medical room. His emerald eyes traversed the lonely halls and once again, Stom enetered the room that KR stood in. Dropping to hisn knees once again, The Zabrak lowered his eyes to the floor and spoke once more to the Dark Lord. "I am now ready to fight you for my Lord. I am ready to take all that I can learn and destroy the Jedi Knights."

As the Dark Lord spoke, the images of a metallic arm raced through his mind. Almost as if watching a movie in his mind, he saw himself fighting with an arm of steel, and a heart of darkness. The Zabraks pale lips arced to form a smile, revealing his angled teeth. "I will take an arm of steel. I will allow my body of flesh to change to become one of flesh and steel."

"I came to be trained in the ways of the Sith. But since my arrival I have only succeeded in nearly being killed by four droids. The last of which took the use of my arm from me." The darkness seemed to pour down from the man before him. Although Storm stood above him, he feltas if the man could destroy him with a single though. Although he did not know the individual, he felt as if he was someone of great importance. As if loosing his strength, Storm dropped to his knees before the great Sith.

Visions of power and darkness fill Storms dreams as he slept. The pain from his arm still reverberated from damage he had received from the droideka. In his minds eye he watched his arm melt away in slow motion. Even in his dreams he felt the pain from that moment. As the young Zabrak woke, he tried to move his hand only to find the task impossible. To moce his arm would require muscles which no longer existed. Only the skeleton of his hand remained. Rising to his feet, Storm looks at his hand and disgust passes through his face. Wielding a staff would be dam near impossible for him to accomplish now. Letting his arm hand at his side he moved into the hallways. As his footsteps echoed through the hallways of the Sith Temple, he felt a dark presence. The darkness seemed to call for all those evil to join him, as well as fear him. Rounding a corner, Storm found himself staring at the form of Kakuto Ryu. Although smaller than the Zabrak, his strength in the Force seemed to dwarf Storm in size. The warrior knew this was no man to casue trouble with.

At long last, the Dark Side had flooded the training room. The sudden flood of evil had been triggered by the rage of a single warrior. It was amazing how the effect of a deadly burn could transform a nivice Sith into a deadly opponent in such speed. And that same transformation had occured within Storm Woods. With the speed of a jungle beast, the young Zabrak sprints toward the Destroyer Droid. The Dark Side had fueled his muscles with the strength of twelve men. A dark aura had surrounded his body and eminated throughout the Temple. His normal emerald eyes had transformed into a hellish black. If the droideka could "see". he would notice its own reflection in the eyes of its opponent. Bringing his fist back behind his body, the young warrior leapt through the air. A growl echoed from the backof his throat as his fist slammed forward into the shield of the droid, seemingly ineffective. But the power of the Dark Side would not yield. Burning through the shield of the deadly droid, the Zabraks fist slammed into the CPU of the droid, shattering all the components, leaving the droid powerless. Stepping away from the destroyed destroyer, Storm heaves with each breath, amazed at the evil energy that had fueled his body. A smoke cloud could be seen rising from around his body as the Dark side burned its power into the young warrior. Loking down with newly green eyes, Storm sees what had been his fist had been burned away. Wghat was left was the skeletal remains of his hand. The shield of the droid had burned away all the flesh of muscles of the arm leaviong it as lifeless as the droid itself. With a terrible scream, the pain of the burns wracks his body and the Zabrak warrior falls to the ground, at last defeated.

Terror had found its way into the heart of Storm Woods. His heart had frozen as the Droideka rolled towards him. The faint lighting glared off its armored chassis as it slowed , almost as if the mere presence of the light could stop the droid in its tracks. The terror in his heart had become evident in Storms eyes as he stared at the powerful droid before him. His eyes opened even farther as the droid began to uncurl itself, and move into a position to attack the Zabrak. The dark warrior watched as the droids arms unfolded and were aimed directly at his chest, the location of his now trembling heart. This was going to be a battle worth remembering for his entire life. A fight that bring to him glory, or bring about his everlasting doom. Leaping to his feet, Storm ran toward the droid, hoping to catch it before it finished unfolding itself. Storm could see the droid was rusty from time, and knew there was a possibility that the droid;s systems would not be perfect. Although he saw no reason for the Sith to have left any system less than perfect, it was a hope he still yearned for. As he came within five feet of the droid, the lasers on its arms began to fire toward the young warriors chest. Wide eyed, Storm pushed off to the side and dropped to one knee, rolling away from the crimson beams of energy that would surely spell his doom. As the beams past over his body, rose to his feet, still moving. After watching dozens of holovids, he had figured out the only way to stay alive was to keep moving, no matter how tired he got. Leaping from the path of another round of blaster-fire, the Zabrak warrior planted his white staff into the ground and flew over the sensors of the mighty droid. As he landed, Storm leapt toward the Destroyer Droid, hoping to land on its back. But instead of landing on its back, the dark warrior impacted uponthe droids shields sending him flying backwards with a severe burn across his frontside. Victory seemed lost as the droid began to rotate its body to take aim at the defeated warrior. Turning his gaze toward the droid, his eyes took on a focus that Storm had never know It was as if he could see every aspect of the droid and knew its weaknesses like the back of his hand. An anger took over his mind, and a strange energy seemed to flow through him, feeding off his anger, making him stronger. Rising to his feet, Storm started off towards the deadly droid, his emerald eyes watching as a stream of crimson energy lanced toward him.

Darkness seemed to call for Storm as he ducked to avoid a short burst from the Super Battle Droid. The Zabraks emerald eyes watches as spears of crimson energy lanced over his head, narrowly avoiding his horns. Letting out a sigh, the dark warrior leapt to the side, feeling the hard stone beneath him, as he rolled away from more blaster fire. "I would come to you, but I am kind of busy." Taking a few moments to compose himself, Bryan takes two steps forward before being targeted once again by the wrist lasers of the B-2 Droid. Instead of rolling to the side, Storm leapt over the blasts and tucking his body into a ball before returning to his feet. Now the Zabrak was close enough to use his staff. Reaching as far as his long arms would allow, Storm brought his staff upward, slamming it into the blaster arm, and causing the droid to fire several blasts into the ceiling. Side stepping a punch from the droid, Storem planted his pole between both the droids legs and issuing a blow to the Supes back. As the droid stumbled forward, Storn noticed a jagged edge had formed on the tip of his staff, and he decided to exploit this. Using all his strength, the young warrior plunged his newly formed spear into the back armor of the droid. Feeling the resistance, Storm continued applying pressure until he was able to slice through the circuitry of the droid. Standing above the destroyed hardwire, Storm wondered what could be next. His questions were answered when from the fourth dor emerged a droid that acted as a wheel. A Destroyer Droid, more correctly called a Droideka. His life was over.

While the B-1 Battle Droid had been deadly during its prime. Once the newer model droids had been produced, its use began to decline. After several years, the design seemed to disappear. The B-2 Super Battle Droid and the meancing Droidekas had taken the leading rolls as front line combat droids. But the IG-100 was a different story. While still an older model, the IG-100 was a pretty tough opponent. His strong armor made any type of melee attack useless. And its capability to fight while loosing limbs, even its head, made it difficult to put down permanently. Yet they did have a weakness. It was still a droid. But the MAgnaGuards, trained by General Grievous in the Clone Wars seemed to have a mind of their own, almost acting like a sentient species. Storm looked to a wall and saw that small group of Sith were watching his battle. Of course he knew each of them would be laughing at his misfortune, while others would be placing bets. In particular, he noticed that one Kel Dor seemed to be focusing intently upon him, seemingly in concentration. And this was only able to further the Zabraks rage. How dare thery use my fight to increase their own power. Storm quickly rose to his feet and grabbed his staff. Although quite large in stature, Storm was very quick on his feet as he would show the droid and the Sith students outside. Twirling his staff in his hand, the Zabrak warrior became engulfed in the white tornado that seemed to apopear around him. Using his natural speed, Storm leaped forward and stab forward with his staff. Not expecting it to do any real damage, he did at least expect to hit the droid. Instead, the droid reached out and caught the tip of the staff and pulling the dark warrior toward him. Flowing with the attack, Storm brought his fist up and threw a punch towards the droids face. As his hand made contact with the steel, he remembered why droids made such good melee fighters. Storm pulled his hand back in pain, and grimaced. He had never been beaten in combat and did not wish to start a loosing record now. Although he was sure he could have drawn this battle out and beaten the droid after tearing away pieces of its armor. There was a possibility that he would die, and that would not suit him either. Reaching behind his back, he produced two Blaster Pistols and let loose a barrage of crimson spears toward the IG droid. Although quick and agile, the droid could not dodge them all, and three blasts slammed into the droid chest, destroying what armor protected its internal processors. Now all it would take was a carefully placed shot. Before Storm coulds react, the IG was upon him. Storm knew he could blast the droids processors at this range, and went to draw a bead upon the droids chest but without luck. The Zabrack warrior spun as the droid flipped over his head. Hoping to blast the infernal machine to pieces, Storm drew his blasters, and aimed them toward the cursed droid. As the droid drew to its full height, Storm let loose a barrage iof bolts intot he droids CPU. Storm watched with content as blast after blast, rocked the droids chassis. Surely something vital was destroyed. After lowering his pistols, Storm watched as the droid stepped towaqrd him in one final attempt to tear him apart. The dark warrior simply rose one pistol and fired a bolt straight into the IG-100 head, destroying all that was left of its CPU. AS Storm knelt down to grab his staff, he could not help but smile. He had defeated a droid that would take even an experienced warrior some time to destroy. Though he had done it with blasters, he was still impressed with him. Placing a hand upon his staff, he heard the hiss of a door opening and saw a dark form stir in the shadows. Jumping to his feet, staff in hand, Storm slowly backed away as the figure came into light. His eyes widened as he saw his new opponent. A B-2 Battle Droid. The type of droid that brought a tinge of fear to even a Jedi's mind. Albeit, Storm was sure he could take the droid down, it would take some time, and some effort.

Amidst the silence of the Siht Academy, came a muffled blaster. Several Sith apprentices had gathered around a small table to watch the action taking place. Each watched with narrowed eyes, tracking the movements of the single warrior in the Battle Chamber. An automatic room designhed to keep throwing opponents at its user until the the user shut down the system. Unfortunately, the lone Zabrak inside the room, had no knowledge of how to shut the system down. Emerald eyes watched as deadly energy splashed agasinst the walls, generating sparks. For a quick second Storm was able to watch as the liquid remains of the wall oozed tot he floor. For only a second he was able to smell the burning rock before he was on the move again. More energy lashed out from the barrel of the Blaster Rifle. By now, Storm had recognized the droid as an old B1 Battle Droid. A remnant of the Clone Wars. If my memory serves me correctly, this droids head is it weakest area. One good blow should render it inactive. The energy being pumped from the barrel of the rifle seemed to be drawing closer and closer to Storm as the droid began to draw a bead on him. Suddenly stopping, Storm watched as several blasts passed through the mass of darkness that was his cloak. Smoke rose into the air, and Storm decided to rid himself of it. Shurgging his shoulders, the massive cloak fell to the floor in a heap. This left the young Zabrak clothed only in his training attire. To those who knew of Darth Maul, it would be like looking at a larger version of the deadly warrior. And that in fact is what Storm wanted them to think. He wanted to remind them of the ferocity of the Zabraks. With deadly accuracy, Storm planted the end of the staff into a small hole in the stone floor and pushed off. His body flew through the air, and his eyes seemed to leap with joy. Keeping the staff in his hand, he brings the weapon down over his head and watches with amazement as the weapon seperates trhe head of the droid from the rest of it. Landing on his feet, Storm sighs and turns to grab his cloak only to come face to face with an IG-100 Droid. A metallic fist slammed into the Zabraks face bringing him to the ground. Reaching to his face, Storm felt blood running down his face, and he knew blood was seeping from his noze. This fight would be much tougher.

Darkness could be felt by all who entered the Temple on Cardia. Evil radiated form the walls, seeping into the pores of any being who dared walk the deadly halls of the Sith Academy. The defenses of the Temple were dangerous to all those who entered without approval. But even more dangerous was the wariors who called this castle of darkness, home. Or at least those who train here. Those who trained here became some of ther most deadly Sith in the Order. Becoming bored with merely waiting, the dark warrior who was being contained in a small room, decides to venture forth through the Temple. As he leaves the room, he pulls from his cloak and pure white staff. As he slowly made his way throughthe halls, his emerald eyes watch as Sith apprentices continue their training. Training that often brought death to those who did not deserve it. Slowly as if making a show of the simple act, the dark warriors hands pull back his hood revealing the face of a handsome Zabrak male. His vestigal horns longer than the standard Zabraks due to his increased size. His skin a pale white, stemming from the evil that resided within his heart. His emerald eyes watched for any signs of movement as he steped forward into a room that seemed to contain only darkness. As his cloak was swept int othe room, the door slid shut with an angry hiss. He quickly turned and saw only darkness. The room was now truly filled with darkness. The Zabrak made his way to the center of the room keeping his ears attuned to any sound that could be heard. But he knew if a Sith wanted to kill him, the only thing permitting him knowledge of the act, would his death. Slowly if by the the sheer will of the Force, three giant lights began to illuminate the room. As the room began to fill with sights, Storm could see four doors, one on each wall. Raising one eyebrow he questioned this puzzle and realized one thing. He had entered a training room for the Sith. Surely he was not skilled enough to fight against whatever horrors this room had in store for apprentices. Slowly one of the doors opened and a droid emerged. Emerald eyes tracked the droids movement as it walked toward him. Storm could see in its hand a device of some kind. Although he could not make out what it was, he knew it must be dangerous. As the droid moved closer, the Zabrak slowly began to back away, moving his staff to a better position to fight just in case. Suddenly red energy lanced toward the dark warrior and Storm only managed to sidestep the advancing barrage. He knew if he did not destroy the droid soon, he would soon be poodoo.

The planet of Cardia had long been used as a center for the darkness of the Imperial armies. The Empire had long used the grounds to train their armies of death, sending them to destroy those who believed the Empire was evil. And now evil had returned to the planet of Cardia, tenfold. An evil so powerful thats its destiny clouded in darkness. From above the planet of Cardia, a hole opens and a small shuttle emerges from the darkness. The light from the planets sun relfects off the hull of the ship giving the appearance of it being a ship of a lightsider. But within the hull of this shuttle, lies an evil. An untrained evil, raw in power and emotion. The ships engine leaves a clear ion trail as it makes its way down toward the planets surface. the emerlad eyes of the pilot watching the sensor for any other ships which might show hostile intentions. His hands move deftly across the controls as he guides the ship toward a landing pad. Steam hisses from the ramp as it touches the ground and a large shadow emerges from the smoke. A soft thud could be heard as the tall shadow made its way down the ramp. A dark hood covered its face as it made its way through the Academy. Within moments, it had found a room and entered it. It locked the door and sat down on the floor.

Real Name: Storm Woods Nickname: (Stormtrooper) ST-62006, (Sith Name) Darth Rageous Age: 19 Species: Iridonian Zabrak Height: 7'3 Weight: 274 lbs Hair: Horns Eyes: (Pre-training)Green, (Post-training) crimson Sex: Male Homeworld: Iridonia Alignment: Evil Clothing: Tunic color/style: A tunic similar in appearance to Darth Maul, yet designed to fit someone of Storm's size. He also wears a modified Stormtrooper belkt around his waist. To fit in with his tunic, it is also black. Leggings, color/style: Similar to Darth Mauls yet designed to fit someone of Storm's size. Robe- Color and style: Similar to Darth Mauls yet designed for someone of Storm's size Footwear. Style/color: Knee high black leather boots. Weapon: Strapped to his back are 2 DL-44 Blaster Pistols. While an excellent shot with a blaster, Storm prefers to fight with his staff which he carries with him everywhere. Force User Inventory: Clothes, weapons, 300 credits Posessions: Storm owns nothing but his weapons and clothes. Although he does pilot a shuttle which he stole from the Empire upon his "resignation". Personality: Storm's personality is a direct reflection upon his name. Normally a clam person, his anger can be called up at a moments notice. Once angered, his rage will not cease until the focus of his anger of destroyed. He has been known to chase his victims for miles before painfully ending their lives. And to that end, he has always looked up the ancient Sith Lord, Darth Maul. History: Storm was born to archeologist parents Dor Kresh and Kane Kresh. Shorlty aftert his bith his parents were sent to an unnamed planet to recover an artifact of significant importance to the Zabrak culture. After spending a few days on the planet, they discovered a high radiation content, and decided to leave the planet before finding the artifact. although he only spent a few days on the planet, Storm absorbed far more radiation than his parents and a mutation began to occur. First and foremost, was his size. He began to grow at an alarming rate, reaching the height of 5'11 on his 10 birthday. On that day he left his family and joined the Galactic Empire. This was possible due to his vestigal horns. The radiation had affected them as well and this aided him in his masquerade. His horns had grown extremely long for a Zabrak, nearly 2 feet in length. Although this would cause a problem for any ordinary Zarabk, the radiation had remedied itself. With a mere thought, Storm was able to control his horns, even bending them. After years of practicing, he was able to bend themn around his head, causing them to look like a strange hair-do. Eventually he was found out and forced from the Stormtrooper ranks. On the day of his "resignation", he stole an Imperial Shuttle and leaving the planet of Cardia. Thinking back to his role model, Darth Maul, he named his ship, Maul, honoring the fallen Zabrak warrior.

From the depths of hyperspace comes a monster meant to inspire fear. Its long grey hull slides from the tunnel of darkness and speeds toward Mon Calimari. Aboard the bridge the captain heads toward the hangar. He boards a Lambda class shuttle with his weapons and exits Mon Calimari. The ship is now in the hands of the Rebellion/Republic.

In the dark reaches of space, strange things can happen to those who are are unique. Ships have gone missing from all contacts. People have been driven made from the sheer isolation, and fear of the unknwon run rampant through crews. But one ship has stood the test of time, and come out nearly unscathed. A single gray dot in space lie waiting for the right time to return. Its weapon unfired in years. Its engines, sat cold for there was no need for the ship to move. And now was the time for the Hell's Angel to return to known space. In the blink of an eye, its engines leapt to life and fire erupted. The Victory Class Star Destroyer slowly began to crawl back to civilization. Back to the galaxy, where war and destruction had run rampant. The weapons aboard the ship began to return to their active state, tracking for any sing of threat to the ships safety. Thousands of men ran through the ship, giving orders and prepping the ship for its reactivation into the Republic military. Hundreds opf soldiers ran to the barracks and dones their armor. Their chest plates were strapped in place, their weapons holstered and fully charged. But one man, kneled in darkness. His eyes closed for fear if seeing his past in the shadows. He had done terrible things to those who were undeserving. He had killed in the name of a tyrannical Empire, giving power to those who did not deserve it. But worse. He had taken a single individual into Hell who did not belong there. Her time had not yet come to enter the next world, and even then, she would not have joined the souls in Hell. Her soul had been peaceful, and he had tainted it with his evil. Though he had released her form his hold, she would forever be tainted by evil. A single message ran through his head and his eyes opened. The golden fire breathed forth and lit up the room. Not being trained in the Force, he could not catch the enitre message. All he knew was that he needed to return to Coruscant, meet someone at the Jedi Academy. And he knew he would need some weapons. Evan stod to his feet and marched to the armory. Upon entering he found a nice suprise for him. The blacksmith aboard had finaly finished forging his weapons for him. He had placed this request upon activation of the ship. 4 blade made entirely of cortosis ore. The Captain knew there would be a day when he would have to fight someone trained in the Jedi arts. And when he did he woud be ready. He sheathed the blades and marched to the command deck. The men aboard the ship had grown accustomed to his fiery gaze and thought nothing of it now. "Make our destination Mon Calimari."