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Bad karma

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  1. Name: NEO-DUVUCUS (Dreadfully Unpleasant and Very Unholy Chariot of Unwarranted Suffering) Model: CC-DUVUCUS 1.5 Class: Corvette Length: 70 meters Manufacturer: Corellian Engineering Corporation Designer: Kheldar vos Correlli Owner: Dominique Armaments: armaments: 2 Concussion Missile Launchers configured for diamond boron missiles, 2 quad laser cannons, 2 twin ion cannons, 1 turbo laser, 1 tractor beam with barbed grappling claws and corusca drill, 100 skull lasers, 1 chain gun. Defenses: Military grade enhanced durasteel hull, enhanced energy and ion shields. Appearance: Befitting an evil overlord, this ship is grotesque in appearance. The DUVUCUS looks as if it was a living catacomb on the outside, with skulls mounted into niches along the hulls (some of which contain hidden laser guns). It has a sleek, though foreboding appearance, covered in sable and crimson, the overall design loosely resembling a Corellian Corvette. The interior has a similar look with crimson floors, black walls, and decorative, yet macabre mountings. The bridge is shaped like a throne room and suitably ornamented. Anti Personnel Defenses: The ship has custom built droids embedded into the fixtures- furniture, hallways, etc., designed to unleash what can be best described as a cross between a vibroblade and barbed wire. These phrik coated barbs can tentacle out and easily restrain, or rend, intruders picked up by internal sensors. A larger variation of this was mounted on the front of the ship by the tractor beam, capable of putting dents in or puncturing the cockpits of smaller ships, this barbed arm carrying a drill with a corusca gem head. Furthermore, the ship is decorated with real skulls, coated with special liquids to enhance durability and in several cases the eye sockets are mounted with hidden lasers on par with a high end blaster pistol. Said skulls are used to line corridors along decorative ones, and 100 of them are placed on the outside of the ship to deal with targets on the ground, along with a concealed chain gun. There are also gravity traps in the audience chamber and bridge to compliment the barbed impaler droids. Designer's Notes: This top of the line ship was an interesting challenge for Kheldar to build, given what he knew of his client's tastes. That being said it was an exercise of the outer limits of grisliness. It has two large cargo bays capable of holding smaller ships or running training modules, and 4 hyperdrive ready escape pods. There is a special hangar built for a special hover cycle which has the following capabilities: Name: The Agathys Altma Model: CC-CC 1 (Correlli Custom Combat Cycle) Class: Combat Cycle Length 1.5 meters Manufacturer: Corellian Engineering Corporation Designer: Kheldar vos Correlli Owner: Dominique Weapons: Carbonite pellet gun, liquid nitrogen spray gun, miniature chain gun. Defenses: Light shielding, military armor. Designers Note: This special combat cycle is enclosed, ensuring the maximum ration of protection for speed. The wheels are specially outfitted with tiny molecularly bonded studs as to give maximum traction and enable the cycle to climb sheer surfaces. The cycle also includes a rocket booster and as needed, a repulsor pack. The design of the engines give it an unusually strong output and speeds matched only by the fastest racing pods, so knowing the owner's affinity for cold, the weapons systems- which include liquid nitrogen and fast freezing carbonite pellets, are incorporated into the engines systems as a means of maintaining stability. The interior is sealed and can survive even in deep space with an air supply lasting 2 hours (or a much longer period if Force aided meditative/trance techniques are employed). The chain gun is designed with special armor piercing rounds, designed with shattering surfaces or objects by the bike's other weapons in mind. With the DUVUCUS itself, there are two force meditation chambers, one for private mediation and one hooked up as part of the bridge which is a specially sealed chamber that can be flooded with fresh water or other additives as needed, complete with its own filtration and purification systems. It includes luxury bedrooms, and also in line with the ship's owner, an assortment of holding cells radiating off of a central torture chamber. The ship contains an audience chamber equipped with holographic projectors and a garish throne. Mounted for design in the audience chamber is portraits of the ship's owner, showing a firm, yet chilly countenance. One portrait of the ship's first owner remains still in a side chamber, showing the dreaded Sith Lord at his fortress of Midsengard on Merkava. The ship includes several other rooms that are easily convertible per the wishes of its owner. The ship includes KVC's top of the line sub-light and hyperdrive engines for speed with maneuverability, as well as the HIMS anti grav well system. The ship was refitted as its previous owner, Lord Ar-Pharazon, never claimed it before disappearing from the Galactic scene.
  2. *peeks into fanfic when no one is looking* *Thumbs up!* Keep writing this!
  3. Dominique's Character Sheet Identity [!ident] Real Name: Dominique Homeworld: Unknown Species: Human Physical Description [!dscrp] Age: Indeterminable Height: 5'0" Weight: 107 Hair: Raven Eyes: Sky Blue Sex: Female Equipment [!equip] Clothing or Armor: Generally overly long, flowing dark robes but on occasion particular brands of handcrafted armor are donned beneath the robes. Regardless of the special qualities of the armor, it's generally form fitting, flexible armor meant to serve a specific purpose other than protection. Weapon: A Caelestum - The weapon of a blademaster, a relic of times past, a potential vessel for power in the future Serpentine dagger with a Sith Amulet placed in the hilt - A focus for channeling the force. Lightsaber - It would be tacky to be a master without one, regardless of focus. Imbued Amulets - Some are simply cold to the touch, while others are akin to touching dry ice. Common Inventory: A commlink is the only common item she carries with her. Faction Information [!factn] Force User or Non-Force User Force User Current Faction Affiliation: Blademasters Unaffiliated Current Faction Rank: Master History: [!hstry] Force Side: Dark Trained by: Tarrian, Exodus Trained who: Malyss, Atia Force Element Affinity: Ice Mastered Saber Styles: Dun Möch, Ataru Known Skills: Sorcery: Since her beginnings with the Order, she has focused on the delving as deep as she can into the force, Mastering the elements at a notably early stage in her training and steadily progressing to greater heights. There isn't another aspect of her training she excelled at to a degree greater than she has with Sorcery and command of the force. She's explored many paths to power, experimenting with them to one degree or another before most often accepting what she's gained and moving on before probing deeper. Cryomancy: There is nothing in her arsenal that comes even remotely close to her skill in this art. Hope is an opiate for the masses and she delights in taking it away from them. Slicing, Marksmanship, Explosives: Little known abilities of hers, hold overs from a life before the Sith, before the Empire. Infiltration: It's difficult to be trained by a Sith such as Exodus without learning a plethora of tricks in this regard. Though they are no where near as honed as her ability to command the force, they're still sharp enough to be worth noting here. Background: Despite her brief stint as Emperor and Dark Mistress of the Sith, relatively little is known about Dominique's past, or when she's been in recent years. Retinue Real Name: Viktor Age: 21 Species: Human Height: 5'7" Weight: 134 Hair: Brown Eyes: Hazel Sex: Male Homeworld: N/A Alignment: Evil Weapon: Lightsaber Force User Ever Faithful, her perpetual student. He is far beyond the point where he should of been elevated to a Lord, opting instead to stay by her side. Rumors of mental conditioning, mundane or otherwise, persist as a result of this. Others question his ambition and thirst for power, for progression, and whether or not he is deserving to be a Sith. Dominique would remind these people that neither of them actively claim the title of Sith. Viktor displays many of the qualities of an Assassin, despite the insistence on not being a Sith, and furthermore he wears the evidence of his Master's experiments on his flesh. More than once he has died to further one of her experiments, more than once he has found himself coming to in a body that is his but...Different. A body that is his...But Better. There are few expressions of her sorcery he hasn't experienced first hand...and in this way he's grown more into the path of the warrior, embracing the suffering and masochism inherent in his role.
  4. How cold do you get, on those long nights alone drifting in space? There is a chill upon the populace of existence and reality. Cold and callous, jaded to death and destruction. Life is snuffed out by the millions for the ego of so few. An expression of power for the insecure, when doubt bubbles up within your breast swords are withdrawn. What is this? This atrocious existence, the masses can provide no resistance. Quell your urges, watch as others attempt to do it for you, but in the end there is only twisted metal and bone ground to dust under the boots of a thousand soldiers. The concept of happiness is foreign and lethal. Sin drips from quicksilver tongues, caress soft flesh, and saturate each and every life with any hope of existing beyond the here and now. Watch it, witness it, be a part of it for long enough and the tedium of it all will start to gnaw at you. A razor in the cold dark, it stings more than any carving of the flesh or shattering of bones could hope to. Save the physicality of it all, save me the repetition of destruction when we all know there is Nothing that can stop any one of us in the physical realm of things. Anything you can destroy can be rebuilt. Do you not see the tedium of this existence, the echos of everything? How does one say so much, while saying nothing at all...
  5. I was digging through my word documents recently...and I found the file for Trowa's final post that I wrote, but I don't think I ever actually posted it. So... __ Water dripped off of a lone, soaked, and brown lock of Trowa's hair. The rain had long ago drenched him, even though he was hidden in an over hang thirty yards away from the edge of the platform that only one other figure stood upon. The sky rumbled in the distance, then was ignited with a brilliant flash of lightening before turning back to its former, gloomy self. That pattern continued every couple of seconds as waves crashed against the platform, threatening to over come the small housing unit that was in the center of it. The entire scene was as vivid as a dream; it was surreal and just like in a dream he was acutely aware of all of his surroundings down the most minute of details. His emerald eyes soaked in the vision in front of him, fully aware that by now the fine hairs on the back of Shy's neck and her gut would have told her that someone was out here with her. That was of no concern to him though; he hadn't come to this place with the sole intent to stalk her. No, he had come here to see the end of their tale; to be the end of their tale and ensure that a life void of all that mattered was not laying in wait for both of them. He stepped forth, from beneath the tiny outcropping that had protected him only slightly from the rain. His steps were silent compared to the roar of the Kamino Sea. He stopped when he was halfway to her. The thunderous pounding of his heart drown out the sound of the world around him. His hands were devoid of their natural coloring; as pale as his face. They were also shaking ever so slightly, a sensation he was not used to in the least. If his heart didn't slow soon, he knew that it would be impossible for her to not know he was behind her. Trowa clinched his fists and closed his eyes, focusing on his heart as it pumped blood throughout his body. He let out a breath of used air and allowed a calm feeling to over come him and help him relax. He knew what had to be done. There was absolutely no point in being nervous as it would only hinder his plans or perhaps even ruin them, considering the sort of karma he had been manufacturing the past few years. He took another step forward as lightening flashed in the distance and a thunder clap met his ears. Rain pelted him, trying to push him back as if nature herself was trying to stop him from committing any deed that he might have in mind for the following minutes. He refused to be dissuaded so easily, though. What he was to do was set in stone in his mind and would soon come to pass then be counted as another chapter of the Galaxy coming to a close. He touched upon her shoulder, pulling back just enough to get her to twist around and face him. Her face was pale, as his was, and looked lovely with a raging storm for a backdrop. His gut knotted up as he realized just how much he had missed her in the short span of time they had been apart. Her violet eyes met with his and he felt the guilt for what was coming begin to rattle his already shaky nerves. He had never thought he would spend his last moments a nervous wreck, turning into a pile of mush just from her eyes which knew no equal. Trowa wanted more then anything to speak, to tell her what he felt, to tell her ask and plead why it had to end this way but his voice was no where to be found. Some how he felt that she knew what he was feeling though; their connection was too strong for her not to know. A faint smile crept onto his face as he stared into her eyes, remembering the times they had together. The good and the bad, and in some cases pathetic on his part”¦but those were among the good times, as he recalled it. He lifted his right hand and grasped her left hand. The two rings on a single chain was pushed into her palm rather forcefully and then held there by his soaked, shivering fingers. He had come with the intent to take her heart as she had his; effortlessly and without leaving a mark on her body. He still wanted too, but his body wouldn't respond to the signals being sent by his brain. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He knew what was coming, so did she, but neither made any effort to move. He pulled her close, smashing his lips against hers. A wave crashed against the platform, completely consuming them for a moment them ripping them off the raised area and into the icy water below. Trowa held her tight as the water over came them and the current pulled them deeper into the icy abyss. Both of their eyes were open, but the water was too dark to look into one another's eyes any longer. He could feel the fading warmth of her body and the burning in his chest. The sides of his vision began to turn black as he opened his mouth, letting out the air and mouthing the words ”˜I loved you' as he did. Soon everything went black and his heart ceased to beat, as did hers. Their hands were still locked together. The rings he had placed in her hand, however, had slipped from her grasp; falling deeper into the depths of the ocean away from them. Forever lost.
  6. ~Agony Revisited~ "What's wrong with him?" "They don't know, the crew medic can't figure it out..." "I heard that was because he wouldn't let the doc near him, though. Said he didn't need any help." "Oh, yeah? He's an idiot...I bet he won't even make it to dock." "I'll take that bet." They stare and they whisper, like I can't hear them. They stare and point, like I can't see them. They stare and laugh, like I am subhuman. It warms my blood, stirring it to boil. People like them make keeping any spark of hope for redemption alive difficult when it wouldn't take much to quiet them. Silence them. Forever. ...but where would that leave me? They treat me like I am subhuman, would I not be just like them if I acted as if their life was meaningless? They won't stop though, as soon as one group is done the next seems to appear. Trowa It's the inky blackness of space that really calls to me at this point. Staring out at the darkness, the occasional star shining, I can see two of them reflected in the view port. "Stop it," I grumble. Now they think they have the right to approach me, stand on either side of me as if they are at all intimidating. I might weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet now, but I'm not going to let a couple pieces of space trash make me back down. "Poor kid, ain't got any skin ta speak of. Jus tryin' to halp yous out, yaknow? Make it a little thicker, 'sides...everyone knows yous ain't gonna survive the trip N'e'way." "Heh, prolly won't sa'vive the day, yaask me." See, I really try...I try my hardest to not just kill them both and walk away, but I can't stop myself completely; I shoulder past them, knocking them both aside on my way to the door. No one takes kindly to that sort of thing and I don't know what I was thinking, but the blow is solid and connects with the back of my head sending me stumbling forward into the door. Turning, I roll my wrist; having to catch myself against the wall screwed it up. My arm straightens out in front of me, my intention being to wrap the invisible energy I'm so familiar with around his throat to choke him into unconsciousness (and hopefully scare his partner off)... ...but instead I see a very visible, very thick tendril of pure telekinetic energy lash out and connect with his head. The crack of his neck is audible in that second between the initial contact and when the energy hits the hull of the ship just above the view port. There is a groan, the old ships hull too thin to resist the force of the blow for long. Just enough time to make it through the door to the next room over as I see both of them sucked out into space before the door closes and seals off that compartment. No doubt they'll know it was me, no doubt they'll be out for blood, and no doubt my body has gone cold as I struggle to realize just what the hell happened. It's been a long time, but not that long...not anywhere near that long...
  7. "That going to be enough to get you space-side?" A slow nod, thumb rubbing over the credits in my hand. How long has it been since I've held a few credits, rather than looking at them as little more than numbers on a piece of paper, means to an end locked away in some vault or on some computer. There isn't even enough extra to get a bite to eat, but chances are I wouldn't keep it down anyways...I haven't kept much of anything down since coming around a few nights ago. Doesn't stop me from wanting something to eat though, stomach growling...can't be sure if it's agreeing with the need for food, or churning at the thought of food. "Yeah, yeah I think so..thanks." My throat itches and I cough a few times, speckles of blood showing up on my hand as I cover my mouth. "You, uh, you sure you don't want to stick around a few days? They say the doc'll be back by then, he could give you a once over and see whats wrong witcha." "Yes...I am sure." The flight jacket I picked up from one of them is a ragged thing, falling apart in a few different places and more than a few sizes too large for my scrawny frame but it really helps out more than you would think. Lacking body fat makes it difficult to stay warm. It's a quiet walk down a secluded hallway, the whoosh of the doors along the way serving only to stir me from my thoughts. By all rights I should be dead, I wanted to be dead...but I walk again. Not as I was when I came to this planet chasing Shy, Hunting Shy, but as I was on Naboo...Ruffled brown hair, green eyes and human. The next door slides open and my senses are assaulted with activity of all sorts; this must be the market area I was told about. The space port is just across the way and to the left. All of these species gathered in one place, Courscant will be worse than this...it causes my head to ache as I look to each one, a particular planet or zone of the Galaxy being drawn up to tell me where they are from. It's too much information at once, I'm not used to it any longer, and as a result I quicken my pace and try to get into the space port so I can get away from it all. Only to find it's just slightly better, my brain doing the same thing with all of the ships now, all of the people and creatures around them. More coughing, hacking... A rodent looking creature turns its elongated nose upwards, sniffing at the air; it can smell my blood and our eyes meet for a brief moment before line of sight is broken. It's impossible to get off of this rock as fast as I want too, but I find that task to be much more difficult than I thought it would be. No one wants to take me with them; either I don't have enough money, they think I'll ruin their cargo, or they think I'll infect their crew with something. Apparently I look like I'm two steps from death's door. Frustration begins to mount as I get a dirty look from the last damn pilot in this space port. I can already tell what his answer is and if I thought I had the strength, I'd strangle him. "Get out of here, we aren't accepting passengers.." "I can pay you well." "How well?" This is where I know I'll be turned away, "Two hundred credits.." He laughs and my eyes lower, feeling the dejection and disdain in me festering. "Take me with you." My eyes turn upwards, catching his as I display a sliver of what I could once harness. "Take Me With You," I demand it this time and take a step forward. "Wh-Fine...we got a bit'a extra space in the cargo bay, you can stay there. Gimme those credits," he holds out his hand and I toss them to him, shuffling past him and into the cargo bay.
  8. ~The Essence of Mortal Arrogance; Redefined~ "How is he still alive?" "If the ocean hadn't killed him, surely the beasts below the surface would have..." "It's inexplicable." "Unbelievable." "I've got a bad feeling about this." Whispers, that's all they are. Whispers that are drowned out by the roar of the ocean, of the sea faring vessel's engine, and any other number of things. The deck is ravaged by the torrential downpour that comes from the Kamino skies and the crew below is gathered around the ragged, emaciated form of a man in his late twenties. His breathing is shallow and they all stand in amazement that he is still alive. Some would say he has the force to thank for his survival in the rough waters, some would call it sheer will and that the force is hardly to thank (How can anyone thank something that has caused untold amounts of destruction across the entire Galaxy?). None of them would be right, though, his salvation taking on a wholly unique form and being based in some form of retribution than any sort of concern for Him and His wishes. Gradually he stirs and comes to, brown hair matted to his neck and face, green eyes peering out from behind the thick locks, so dark and heavy with water. There is a crackle of lightening outside the cabin that causes him to jerk upwards. The sudden movement leaves his head spinning, his chest tightening and sends his gag reflex into overdrive as much of the water he swallowed comes rushing out in spurts all over the floor as the crew take a few steps back, looking at each and then to this lone man. The piercing green eyes turn to his hands and he whispers, "Why?," and the answer comes to him as easily as any thought or concept would. Complete the Circle
  9. Real Name: Trowa Barton Age: 27 Species: Human Height: 5' 10" Weight: Obscenely underweight Hair: Light brown Eyes: Emerald Sex: Male Home world: Naboo Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Force User
  10. An insidious darkness slithered from within the icy tombs that had been too much for so many to endure. Like a slow to act poison, like creeping death, and all manner of things treacherous and corrupting the Crone stirred from the frozen prison. No one had the power to simply imprison her and no one would be stupid enough to do it on Hoth, of all planets, instead it was a sort of self-imprisonment. Locking herself away in the cold and silence, slipping into a deep meditative trance as the force and all manner of unnatural powers sustained her body at the sub-zero temperatures. A portion of the woman's face was still missing and she looked aged, though even still her eyes told of wisdom that far outstripped her years. Trudging through the snow, using her glowing weapon to keep herself from tumbling down. In the distance the wavy form of her ship could be seen breaking through the atmosphere and with a tentative touch upon the force she felt Viktor's presence Imperceptible hands lifted her through the open hatch and into the chilly interior of the large ship. It felt so empty, so hollow, and in that moment she knew just what it needed. Stepping into the cockpit she looked at the man in the pilot's seat as his hands moved over the controls, turning the ship towards space. He had proved to be a useful investment of her time.
  11. Bad karma

    Gromas

    Dominique released a deep breath as the Jedi moved away from her and watched as the specks of rotted flesh and disease that had been rendered harmless escape her body. Now that things were starting to slow, the pain in her jaw and gut was starting to throb. Grunting, she concealed her dagger and lifted her caelestum from the ground. Viktor had already unloaded the two vessels on her ship off onto an Imperial ship. In but a few seconds she was gone, disappearing to go and fix herself up. The Galaxy could fend for itself for a while.
  12. ((*yawn* It wasn't a one hit kill type thing, place the explosive in one post, blow it in the next. Hm, this is my third post.)) The commander took a few steps backwards. He was quite surprised that the stun blast had not only failed to stun the man, but hadn't even slowed him down. This one would have to be put down fast, or else he'd lose more than just the one man who had been stabbed with a vibroblade. Glancing around, the commander spied a pipe broken off at the tip. It wasn't too large, in fact it was just right for what he required. Lifting up the pipe, the man clutched it tightly and stepped forward, bringing the weapon around and slamming it into Crosa's head as the other Storm Troopers distracted him. The sound of a skull cracking reverberated off of the surrounding walls. ”œFraggin' bounty hunters, need to get off the Empire's nuts.”
  13. Bad karma

    Gromas

    She had managed to evade the tentacles when Ikera first lashed out with them, trying to strike at every target at once. It was an admirable tactic, but she was just too skilled at evasion and his focus was spread a little too thin to catch her lithe, petite form. There was a moment's pause where she pulled in a frosty breath and glanced up, to see a silvery, spiked tentacle coming straight for her face. It was that moment that everyone experiences at one point or another, where you can just see something coming but you are powerless to stop it. The barbs collided roughly with her face and sent her sprawling backwards as another caught her from the side, tearing into her stomach roughly. The rot took hold instantly, eating at the flesh and muscle on her face along with her stomach. For a moment she gasped for breath, reaching up to feel her teeth where her cheek should have been. A bead of sweat began to drip down the side of her face from sheer panic, but it froze before it could drop lower than her eyes. This being deserved death and she was the one to deliver it. Standing up straight, the small figure rolled her shoulders and gripped her Caelestum tightly, clenching her fist and loosening it a few times as she glared at the foul creation before her. The shadows of every corner deepened and seemed to squirm as if there was something living inside of them and Dominique's demeanor became something ancient and completely incomprehensible to those around her. Something terrible emanated from deep within her, saturating the bridge with its terrible taint. Frost lined inched its way down the length of her arm, turning her alabaster skin a strange shade of blue. Swift, powerful strides carried her towards Ikera, flecks of flesh flittering off of her face with every step. ”˜Where's your God now?' Strangely, the whisper did not only meet Ikera's ears, rather it met every ear present as the first blow was struck. Ice began to spread from below Ikera and Dominique's feet as the flurry of blows pushed the corrupted thing backwards. Each blow came a little faster, struck a little harder, and the harder the blows struck the more the very floor beneath them shook. Crackles of lightening accompanied the groaning of the ship as she forced it into further instability while her serrated blade dug deeper into the ”˜flesh' of the being. An arm was the first appendage to be cleaved from Ikera's body, but Dominique never went after a second. Instead her weapon cut at a horizontal angle, leaving the Avatar's torso laying around the ground with an uncountable number of slices and gashes in it. Her Caelestum was dropped to the floor and a serpentine dagger was pulled from within the fold of her robes. ”œYour God can suck me, your soul's mine.”
  14. ((Heh, whoops, thought you all were in a bar. The whole ”˜drink' thing through me off.)) ”œA wanted criminal, eh?”
  15. There comes a pat on Crosa's back, the hand of an Imperial soldier that had been seen only a week or two earlier. Another man, armed with a rifle and looking a bit bulkier than one would think he should; the trained eye would notice the tell tale signs of armor under his uniform. He had a bit of a five o'clock shadow, which was to be expected really. The Imperials stationed on this planet worked under Viktor and as long as they could shoot straight and lob a grenade, he didn't much care about the minor details like that. ”œGood evening, Crosa.”
  16. Bad karma

    Gromas

    ((She is harder to write than I remember, forgive the low quality of this post >.>)) And just like that the battle had began. Demons and warriors alike had been called to the room to better set the mood of clashing titans. With a passive eye, she watched it all while only having to side-step an attack every so often. When he presence was being drawn in and eclipsed by the boys, it wasn't difficult to be overlooked in such a way. Delicate fingers traced over a portion of the command center, vibrant eyes watching as the shadows deepened and took form. It stands upon four clawed paws, legs as thick as the trunk of a tree, and a gaping maw full of razor's edges. It shook itself free of the shadow and growled, glancing around before settling its black orbs on Dominique. ”œGo play with the boys.”
  17. Bad karma

    Gromas

    (Meh, was going to wait for Ikerra but..whatever) The energy of the battle washes over the ship and reverberates within the corridors as it drops into real-space. She opens her mind to the devastation being wrought and soon a map is formed; the areas thick with death, the beacons of light and black holes of wickedness. Extending her senses, she can pinpoint two of the larger taints. One is familiar; the other is the one she has come to put an end to. One of the strangest things about space battles is the complete lack of sound outside of your ship. She stood in the cockpit for a while just watching the flashing lasers and explosions that illuminated this sector. She took her time adorning herself with the proper equipment and pulling the death laced energies of the battlefield to her. There is a faint metallic sound echoing down the corridors as Dominique moves towards the small chamber near the belly of the ship. It is there that she found the others gathered, their own preparations having taken place already. In the blink of an eye the group faded from one location and into another. The oppressive taint of Ikerra was suddenly no more than ten meters away. Dominique looked from within the shadows, towards the powerful figure with a lazy gaze. She did not wish to take the first strike, instead she drew her weapon and prepared herself.
  18. His hand is warm and flush with blood; mine is chill to the touch and pallid. Is this evidence of the toll that some believe the Dark Side takes on a person's body? Perhaps and if I had more time, I might let my mind wander on the topic for a while. Instead I tug him closer, wrapping one arm around his waist (what is it with every guy I meet being at least a foot taller than me?) and pulling him a step back into the shadows. I imagine he might be a little sick to the stomach, though that doesn't much bother me. He's got the entire trip through hyperspace to feel better and I am sure that Ason and Exodus will help him out if he gets too sick. A thin smile forms on my face and I can picture the way it must look in my mind; a cat toying with its prey. A slight shake of my head and I move towards the cockpit. ”œThis is your captain speaking.”
  19. Nowhere is safe The alliance and Jedi order had learned this some months ago, or was it a year now? I couldn't recall, time escaped me these days, but they had seen the force that the Unholy Trinity could bring to bear that day. No small toll had been flayed from their very flesh, but this visit was for an entirely different reason. I was not here to slay the Jedi and soldiers while the greater portion of their forces was elsewhere in the Galaxy. I was here to recruit help in taking down one of the linchpins of the Arach'Tar. The Sith alone could not bring this one down and I am not opposed to coming for a Jedi for help. Normally they are the ones that would find fault with such an arrangement. Fortunately their arrogance and holier than thou attitude had been dampened by the invasion. The temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees in an instant and my presence spreads throughout the temple like an insidious poison, temptation and corruption flourishes. His meditation is interrupted and I take a few steps forward. He looks taller than I imagined he would be; though I suppose I am shorter than people imagine I am. ”œSaulot.”
  20. Bad karma

    Roon

    Two had departed, separately, and two remained now. They would not be bothered, instead I saw that they were offered a room in which to saw and facilities in which they could do as they wished. These were merely the basics of what a good hostess would offer and there wasn't reason to offend such esteemed guests. Honestly, there wasn't much reason at all for me to even keep them in mind as I inspected the place. If something became amiss, I would know. Otherwise they could rest, eat, and either wait for Exodus to return or get the hell out. I'd give them the benefit of the doubt and assume they are astute enough to realize what choices they have. The lower levels would be reopened soon; the staff knew this and I could feel a sense of unease about them. They weren't all around when this place had been initially designed and many of them weren't exactly sure what to expect. They were only aware that strange things were down there. If only they knew that the lower levels could never be entirely closed off. All of that was not the most prominent concern of mine, for the time being, though. I found myself in the Genetics and Cloning area of the compound. If the story I was told was entirely truthful, the creatures from below were created in this very laboratory. I waited in a motionless, passive stance and watched the doctors on the other side of the glass work. It was fascinating; there was nothing quite like working on another living being. This particular being was named Gabriel and had once been a normal boy, albeit a force sensitive boy. These doctors had taken him in and studied him. He had been put through rigorous training, pitted against brutally efficient combatants, and trained in various forms of armed and unarmed combat. His intellect was not neglected in the least though; rather his studies rivaled the physical training in just how intense they were. For a moment it didn't feel right to swoop in and pick off their subject after they finished up with him, but then this was my place now and there was no reason why I should step back and let these doctors push Gabriel until he was dead. I had read over the report; he had unconsciously tapped into the force and made use of very rudimentary techniques focused around physical improvement during a fight several times. He wasn't particularly adept at piloting anything, really, in fact that seemed to be the only negative aspect of the boy. He was scheduled to have a basic set of cyberware equipped, nothing more than the dedicated, encrypted comm. channel but it would be enough for now. Down the road, if he proved he could withstand the training, I would design something special for him. The procedures came to a close and Gabriel was moved into a bacta tank for recovery; when removed I would begin his training. It would be good to have someone around more often, now that Viktor is able to function without the need for constant observation.
  21. The buildings surrounding the battlefield were groaning in protest at the near irreparable damage that had been forced upon their foundations. There were little more than a few steel beams and duracrete pillars holding several of them up and all it would take was one more explosion to bring several buildings crumbling down and crushing everyone without the means to escape. There was a strange symphony of sorts to be found upon a battlefield bulging with live-fire, but only those who could stop and listen would ever be able to pick it out. The cries of pain, crumbling of structures, sizzling of laser burned flesh, explosions, and mayhem. These are the things that greeted The Maestro's ears as he lay in wait of the Liberator. Only one with a body trained for endurance could remain in the motionless position his body had been in for several minutes now. It took the full range of his body's capabilities; strength to hold himself there, dexterity to get there, and stamina to remain there for an extended period. Soft footsteps could be heard approaching and still he waited until the Liberator was below him. A silent descent, a sudden snap-hiss, and Halál's head was cut clean from his body. A single twist on his heel and the Maestro pushed the crimson blade through the Liberator's chest and into his heart. The man was dead without ever so much as seeing Viktor's face. The blade was disengaged and the hilt returned to his hip; his job was done and Halal's saber collected. His soldiers would clear out the rioters now. They would not all be killed though; the ones that surrendered would be offered the choice of death or enslavement. They were cattle, their shepherd was dead, now they began the process of deciding between the slaughter house and the fields.
  22. Several of the emplacements had been ripped asunder by the thermals tossed their way, but one or two of the small orbs was propelled back at the figure that threw it. Oblivion was all that greeted the assailant and his small group. The area was a festering wound upon the force, thriving on the death and destruction, indulging in the panic and fear”¦and behind the scenes the Maestro was tugging at the strings to make such things all the more potent. He remained still and silent, with closed eyes. Tendrils of the force tainted with color were lain out before his eyes. Panic was raised to a fevered pitch, fear escalated into terror, and his insidious grasp wrapped around the brains of so many. The Maestro sought out the weakest willed of the group and infiltrated the man's mind. He was a quivering heap of fear with steadiness brought to his hand only through the grace and kindness of the Sith that was urging him to grasp the silver orb on his belt. The man stared at it, surrounded by the people around him shouting out orders or letting out their final screams before death overtook them. A calloused thumb pressed the button down; Beep. Those around him that heard the minute sound looked to him in horror and screamed at him to throw it, but his knuckles were white from how tightly he had been gripping it. All the blood drained from his face as the Sith released the hold on the man's mind. From across the battlefield Victor heard a resounding explosion that echoed with the deaths of another group of rioters. Releasing breath, Victor lifted his right hand up above his shoulder; the signal was given and another explosion found its way onto the battlefield. This one wasn't like the thermal detonators though, which completely vaporized everything in their radius. Instead these explosives turned the field into a fiery hell. Their retreat had been cut off completely in effort to force them forward, but with several of the E-web teams having been put out of commission there was no other option other than to turn the field into hell itself. Walls of fiery death stood between a good portion of the masses and their only route of escape; beyond the route of escape more soldiers lay in wait with various weapons ranging from heavy repeaters to semi-automatic slug throwers designed to maximize pain. Still, the Maestro did not reveal himself, preferring to instead direct the battle as he saw fit from the shadows.
  23. Calm eyes watched the mass of bodies surge forth, steady hands slowly tightened against the triggers of their weapons, and Victor found a source of amusement in the arms the Liberator had given ”˜his people.' The man pulling their strings did not seem to be the wisest of Sith and for a moment the Assassin found himself curious who had trained this one, because already he could pick out at least four mistakes that would be devastating to his plan. The trap had been set and they were about to spring it. The cloaked figure was the last to rush into the burning wreckage before the trap was sprung. Behind him there was a multitude of explosions that ripped through the area and cut off retreat. There was a minor ripple in the force before somewhere near the center of the massive group there was a faint Beep! There were so many of them packed so tightly; hundreds died in the blink of an eye. The sharp grating of metal on metal was missed, obfuscated by the explosion of a thermal detonator. The barrels of several e-webs were noticed just too late as they opened up on the crowd and cut down people in mass. There was so much smoke and confusion as the people began to panic in the aftermath of the explosion that it was hard to pin-point where the crimson blasts of energy were spraying out from. They seemed to come from every angle and Halal wasn't exempt from the festivities. Like a Maestro Victor watched on from the shadows with his form concealed both physically and within the force. There was far too much death and destruction within the force for most to even begin to detect the subtle hints of a man hidden from others. The E-webs did not stop, they did not discriminate, they only murdered those too foolish to know that revolting was a horrendous thing to even consider doing.
  24. It's like creeping death as I watch them from the high rise office. In the distance I can see smoke curling into the sky and flames licking the sides of buildings. They've taken down several sectors and are approaching the one that I have been commanded to protect by my Master. I am not quite sure why I have been commanded to protect this sector, but I gather it has something to do with her recent acquisition of Roon and the company that rests upon that hidden jewel of a planet. ”˜The Liberator' That's what they called him, this shadowy figure that seemed to back this uprising. Dark tendrils are wrapped around each and every one of the followers and I could see, as if by the light of a thousand suns, that there was a Sith at work here. The hilt on my hip weighs heavily and for a moment a grin flashes over my features in hopes of meeting this one face to face and settling this uprising, but then”¦Those followers of his would walk away unpunished if we settle it like men. When it comes to my particular ilk things aren't settled like men. If there was an advantage to be taken I would have it. Blood would paint the walls of this building and it would not be the blood of my soldiers. Things were set up and ready for the arrival of our ”˜guests.' Their Revolution ends Here.
  25. Bad karma

    Roon

    He makes things sound so easy, Atia shrugs as if it's no big deal, and here I stand with closed eyes and a small smile. This is one of the greatest challenges the Galaxy has ever faced and historically speaking, entire Empires have fallen due to a lone warrior or small group. Will we be that group, or will history mark us down as several of the Era's ”˜greats' that tried and failed? If we are not meant to succeed, who then will take our place and triumph where we could not? Dare I even think it; perchance I will go down in history as the woman that sealed the Galaxy's fate in such a manner that makes even the cruelest of the Sith and the most Stoic of the Jedi recoil in disgust. Time will tell me its secrets. ”œRest easy, Atia, knowing no one would dare take a Teenage girl's toy's from her.”
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