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Fynn Relmis

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Fynn Relmis last won the day on March 21 2020

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About Fynn Relmis

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    Baron Kern Relmis
  • Birthday 04/25/1982

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  1. Fynn Relmis


    "Come forth you who lurk" Kern watched silently for a moment, then he heard the voice asserting his presence, and directing him to come forward. He remained still until the murder occurred. The viciousness, the casual cruelty of the deed, resonated with him. He had done this all to often, ending life. IT was like an old familiar friend, but seen wish fresh eyes. Yet he saw the futility as well. A life destroyed with no reason, by a weapon of callous indifference, wherein the fear could have been harvested to serve in dread and doubt. Perhaps he was weak for this thought... or perhaps his fragmented experiences had taught him that knowing when use power was as important as knowing when to use restraint. He stood, balancing his weight on the broken force pike, and made his way towards the entrance. He was still strong enough to do that at least. As he approached, he pulled the fabric from his face. The darkness was more powerful here, more focused. Yet still he could not sense how many lay beyond the threshold. He regarded V'Trechen silently, trying to place him in his thoughts. He was young, able bodied, surging with fear and anger, yet there was more to him then the surface. Yet Kern could probe no deeper... his power what of it remained was still without root. He stopped short, as the young woman murdered let our her last gurgle. Kern studied the scene, locked it into his mind...With his tall form still mostly hidden behind the ragged cloak, and balanced on the staff, he finally spoke. "The void accepts you. Go to the darkness... tell it your secrets." Kern said under his breath. Then looked to the entrance which the Lord had left open, and moved on heeding a the call that beckoned him forwards.
  2. Fynn Relmis


    The heat was oppressive... yet Kern did not sense it was the worst enemy. Hours had passed since he had began to follow the path, if the direction he traveled could be called such. Korriban was not alive to the naked eye. Even beyond that which could be seen, Kern could sense an enormous and contentious web of energy. The place was infused with such history, such legacy... that the stones seemed to scream it as he passed. Here a master met his end, and there a neophyte was ruined, and over there, the still screaming form of a being that seemed destined to suffer a thousand deaths, repeating it's bellowing screech for all time... Or perhaps it was just the howl of the wind, and nothing more then a trick of the mind from lack of water. He'd found an broken metal staff, perhaps the end of a force pike long ago, but now, the shaft was just long enough to hold him upright, when his legs began to tire. The careful planning it took to create the planets features impressed him, the whole place had been a grand design, stopped by the calamity of war. He covered his face from the dust with a patch of cloth... and moved on. He only pausing occasionally to re-calibrate his bearings. The shadows played with him, the sense he had for other force users waxed and wained, taunting him with their presence. The Sith order was here, but so able to hide themselves, he was certain it was only the occasional imperfection of the students that he could feel, or mayhaps he was being misled. The thought irked him. A cruel irony, that he would be reborn just to die a fool's death at the cusp of entry. Was the darkness truly so chaotic, that's it's design would crush him before he started? A cruel jest indeed. He moved stubbornly onward. Footfall after footfall, the burden of his own body becoming greater, with each step. Another hour, two... three... and he finally paused. He slumped down behind a rocky bolder, overlooking an immense crushed stone head. The wind had blown it's features into oblivion, but the face looked at him rocky eyes, and a stony demeanor. "What do you look upon, ancient lord?" Kern said, having grown tired of the silence. The face said nothing. "Indeed, I am almost nothing. Only fragments of what I was remain. That it is why I come. I must find myself... my path. To follow the steps you and your companions did so long ago. That is all that remains for me." Kern said to the face, studying it's blank features closely, as the wind howled. The face said nothing. "Who were you... what was your name?" Kern said beholding the broken face. What was his own name? His origin? He had only broken fragments as it was. A jedi, light or dark, a broken hermit, a failed leader, a conqueror, a cruel jester on the dejarik board? The name Kesh came to his mind, but was it his? Or was that just another broken fragment. Kakuto... Furion... Exodus...Armenia...Skye...Darla... the names reeled around but found little purchase. Kern racked his mind, but no name came except Kern, and a vague sense of entitlement and superiority. He dismissed the feelings as the statue again said nothing. "Fine... remain stoic. I know my destiny lies here, along with my past, my future. Long enough has been my obscure toil. I know that much. Oblivion or power..." Kern stood up, bracing himself and re-wrapping the tattered robe around his form, and gathered up his meager belongings. "Worry not my lord... if I fail, my bleached bones will keep you company." Kern added as he moved back to the path. ... The sound came to him at once... voices that echoed of the rock and along the ground to his ears. "...What brings you here?" Dragging his form to the shelter of a nearby boulder, he saw five figures, plus one, at a massive entrance to whatever lay beyond. He sat there a moment, deciding to listen and wait. "...I want to be a Sith, so I can quake the galaxy in fear and everyone will know my name. The name of Mike V’Trechen."
  3. Wake up... wake up... Wake...UP! ... Yava sat-up in the bed. Her body being monitored by a medical droid that was startled by her sudden awakening. So the kindly Jedi had deposited her here, a medical ward. So kind, it made her want to wretch. Her body still injured, from the climatic clash, she attempted to get up. "Miss... your wounds have not yet healed. It is imperative that you-" "Where am I... what happened to the ship? Did we-" Yava tried to ask, her words choked by a seemingly clouded mental stated. She felt better then she had in a while, and she wondered just what the Jedi had done to her when she was unconscious. "Kern?" She asked pleadingly as if worried about his return. Yava knew that we as there, deep within, simply biding his time. She couldn't know if her actions were her own, or his, but she knew that the longer she remained that the more danger she was in. "Who... who are you?" She demanded finally. The droid bleeped in recognition and spoke. "I am C4-ZedY, you may call me Zed. You are in the medical ward, level 3 alpha, secured wing." The tall silver and gray droid had a vaguely female voice. "Secured? Am I... being watched?" Yava asked directly, noticing a security droid in the corner keeping an eye on her. IT was clear that the Jedi were taking no chances. "Due your interactions with the Sith your movements and actions are to be monitored, and your code access restricts you from-" "I want to speak to whoever is in charge... I have to leave." she said barked, but her body refused to full stand, and so she sat back down. "I'm sorry but at this time, no representative is available. I will put through your request though. Be aware, protocol dictates that you be monitored for as long as you are here." Zed sad as he moved on to the next bed, and then to the medical lab beyond. Yava sat down as she heard a discussion from two other patients, young padawans or soldiers, she wasn't sure which. "-a full blown master... hasn't been a new one of those in a while." the younger one said with an air of pride. "Sarna huh, wonder how she pulled that off. I mean to be a master don't you have to accomplish some great feat... like-" "I heard she killed a Sith lord out there, whole army of droids too!" "No way." the second youth responded incredulously. "Makers' word it's true." the younger soldier said as he began to regale the other with a clearly 5th hand account that wasn't even half true. Yet the appointment of Sarna as a master truly stuck with her. It was like someone had jabbed a jagged piece of metal in her eye. 'Sarna' had slain Kern, she knew it now as if she had been there for it. "They reward failure, and punish true greatness." Yava said under her breath. Yava laid back down... something in her making her angry. Something buried deep within, In an instant she had a vision of decapitating the two insolent peons' for daring to... "Yava... you're awake! The crews been worried sick." The form and outfit of one of her crew-mates came into view. Yava smiled, doing her best to swallow the bitter hatred that was attempting to pull through. She had to leave this place, and soon.
  4. Fynn Relmis


    “AWAKE! You slogs!” the bellowing voice of the foreman called the various slaves to another day of excruciating labor deep in the bowels of Korriban. Various barely clothed figures rose from their places and began the trudge back to the unforgiving grind of mindless work. Kern stood with them, and made his way to the same spot he had been assigned. He grabbed the black and gray face-mask meant to lessen the dust collecting in his lungs. These were in short supply, and only the most vicious and capable slaves kept them. He had killed twice already simply to breath, and so each day bled into the next, a horrific struggle for survival that never ended. Finally returning to the tunnel and his workplace, he found his mark and began to hammer. Ping…crack Each strike made a small part of the rock face shatter, and the sound of his heavy blows rang down the tunnel he and his fellow slaves continued to create. Now and then weaker beings, smaller humanoids, and various other prisoners would approach to pick up the remnants of ore and rocks and cart them away. Kern angled the hammer, his tall perfectly built form covered in the black dust of the minerals of the mine. The only light in the dark place was the hastily assembled red lighting on the floor powered by the limited powercells that had to be manually recharged every morning. Ping…crack The torturous work was accompanied by the bellows of pain and anguish of the suffering of the workers, some who had been here since birth, others who had lost all memory of why they were confined to this existence. Others still whispered of escape, but these were weeded out, their fates cruel, and their demise quick and quiet, or loud and bloody. The force had gradually returned to Kern, but using it seemed pointless, his will lacking purpose. Ping…crack With every blow to the surface, Kern’s mind focused ever sharper on his reason, his reason to continue, his reason to remain, his reason to not be one of those whose life was sacrificed to the madness around him. He watched as young slave girl ground away at the manual charging station, sweat dripping from her brow, dropping slowly to the ground below. Why did she persist, what animated her? Why- Ping…crack Faces came to him, floating above him in the red clouds of dust each larger than the last, taunting his mind. Their faces were not empathetic, they were judges, condemners, revilers. He hated them, they fired his soul with animus, and each breath he took, each blow he made, he found the anger and rage grew. The memories he had, hazy and clouded, were filled with suffering, with grand designs, and disastrous falls. Always he would fail, again, and again, he would lose all… only to rebuild. Ping…crack He had been someone… something… something powerful. He knew it, each night he slept the dreams told him as much. Yet it was beyond him, as if part of a history forever lost to him. In the long night watches, the slaves often spoke to themselves, their nightmares intruding into the waking world. They spoke of lost loves, lost planets, lost peoples, lost lives… despair filled them, desperate ravaging fears that caused some to cry out. This was not Kern however. Ping…crack Kern envied them, for where they had dreams …he had the void. The endless all-knowing void at the end of all things. He felt as if had known it firsthand. The void was alive, it was there at the end of all things. It spoke to him, called to him, beckoned him. IT needed to be fed, the void was endless, it had moods, it had desires… and when he slept… it communed with him. His will too, returned to him. A will that every day grew stronger, fed by the immense energies of Korriban, fed by the great darkness. Ping…crack It could not be satiated. It always needed more, and no matter what he did, the darkness would call it insufficient. Was this what had maneuvered him to return? Was it not the animating force behind the darkness? Everything he had done had sent ever more things into its’ gaping maw. It was becoming clearer… the darkness was not his enemy. No, IT was his true friend, his truest master. The rage, the anger, the hate… all of it was impotent in the clarity of its’ aims. It animated himself beyond the mere purpose. Something of himself was returning, growing stronger with each passing moment. A vision of pure power drove him ever onward. Ping…crack A small stone that was different then the rock face fell before him. It had been embedded here by something. A force that attempted to bury deep and keep it hidden. The stone still had writing... written in the sith language, a tongue that Kern did not yet remember. He attempted to read it, stirring a whisper in the back of his mind: Hâsk Qo Shâsot Qo Tyûk Midwan He pocketed the tablet, there was more to be deciphered... The darkness was not to be ignored, rather it was to be embraced, worshiped, and given tribute, proper tribute that he could not offer here. The darkness could not be given its desire here, and Kern realized all at once that his time in toil was not meant for the banal existence of mining. “Hey, give me that stone little man.” Kern turned to see a larger slave approaching him, a brute of a man one whose tone was a clear threat. Kern dropped the heavy metal tool, and sighed. This was not his place. … “You there… get back to work!” the four armed foreman said as he approached dressed in a long grey cape, and large heavy boots. The body of the large worker lay prone on the ground, and it did not respond to the electro-whip applied by the foreman. Kern approached, his eyes glowing brightly red in the dark red glow of the cave. “No.” He said simply, and walked by dropping the second body on the ground. Had taken the large slaves food portion as well as other items he’d stolen from the weaker beings present. “Stop or I’ll-“ the man seemed to want control Kern, brandishing the whip with malicious intent. “Raise your hand in anger to me, and I will use that whip to strangle you where you stand, then throw you into the deepest hole I can find.” Kern said bluntly, pausing only to see if the man would dare. The foreman visibly gulped, realizing that Kern was not a meek and defeated slave whose mind was shattered or half removed. He stepped back, clutching the fresh oxygen mask, as he did so. “Now, which way to the surface?” The foreman pointed, fear rising, as Kern’s mere presence inspired the feeling of dread and despair to rise. Kern approached, ripping the cloak from him, then looking at his boots. The man quickly removed them, then cowered in fear. “Good. Carry on.” Kern said as he passed by, retrieving the shoes as he did so. … The surface of Korriban was windswept, and hot. The orange and red glow from the sun and dust was omnipresent, yet Kern found it’s view to be less then interesting. He reached out as he trudged along, his connection with the force growing stronger. He could sense the various beings in the valleys and tombs in his surroundings. The valley was dotted with broken monuments and craters, the spot of a great battle, from a time of ancient war. Covered now in the ragged cape, Kern hiked on, alone, his only companions his driving indomitable will, and the howl of the angry wind. He moved toward a particularly strong source, seeking the vision his mind had called him too. The time had come to regain his path, to reclaim that which he had lost, to fulfill the call of the darkside, or die in the attempt. He would become Sith, or fall to nothing. But who or what would teach him? The question lingered. However Kern did not fear the uncertainty, he embraced it. The great darkness still awaited him, and he would accomplish his destiny, no matter the cost.
  5. Fynn Relmis


    Nothingness... a vast empty void. They were not aware of it at first. It only seemed like another insignificant moment of silence in an empty formless nothing. All that existed was fire, all that was, burned. Then came the drumming... the ceaseless drumming. The sound energized and galvanized an already fiery furnace into animation. Then at once came form, a cluster of darkness joined by some fragile trickle of inevitability. Causality took hold, and a cascade of events unfolded as the form drew larger, it's a bonds sealed through a crackle of energy that reverberated forth in the void. Now there was form, but no function, the parts struggled to become one, the one to become many, the many to reform once more. This same form had been so often battered and broken, shredded and forlorn. The form breathed, shivered, exhaled and breathed again. Eyes popped open, exposing searching irises, darting back and forth with alacrity. The body convulsed, sinew to bone, nerve to muscle. Each passing breath the task became easier, more normal, then routine. Finally as the form found purpose, found function, thoughts made themselves known. A shell became more, but barely more. Was it consciousness? Was it life? What was this state... where was this form? My, me, myself. I! I exist! His body would not listen. His body? This body. This was not- Fragments, deep seeded emotions, the all encompassing anger, these things remained. Then Kesh came rushing back, the conquest, the horrors, the triumphs. All of it like a precious animating genesis. He was Kern... he was of Kesh... born at the death of someone called 'Fynn'... born of fire and rage. Baron of all... the Kesh were his children, no, his slaves, he was their ruler, no their benefactor, their rightful king?... Their GOD! But it all felt false. He was no leader, nor emissary. He couldn't fathom what that meant, he was only a small bit of blood and flesh and bone and brain. The body would move now, it's form was well made. Crafted of new cells, and new tissues, and new things. His arm was his own again, no ragged stump with a protruding cybernetic replacement. No crude metal claws grasping at the galaxy with murderous intent. It felt... good. Yes, that was the emotion, pleasure, in all it's various forms. All of it to be taken at a whim... with... with.... He reached out his mind to the tunic beneath him, seeking to move it to his hand. But the force did not reply. The force did not consent. It resisted him, fought him, it was not willing for his manipulation. He cursed aloud, and tried once more, but again it denied him. So many times he had bid it do his will, now it betrayed him, just as everything eventually did. He stewed but dressed himself, humbled momentarily by the failure. Cast aside and out... yet again he rose, and again he rose, and again he... rose. The passage of time meant nothing, the savagery of the enemy meant nothing, the extent of his defeat, nothing. ---\---/---\---/--- Yet he was still lacking. As he stumbled on wobbly legs, attempting to right himself, he found the void in his mind was still there. An emptiness of memory and thought that couldn't be overcome despite his will. He could not figure out the tunic, or the footwear that seemed so proper. So He shambled on, leaving the small barren room dressed only in the barest of clothing, to find his way to a window, looking out upon the vast barrenness of the planet below. His mind was fuzzy, and for all his internal and eternal identity he could not put form to it, and words were still locked away. He passed others, figures of little recognition. There was nothing but bare faces, other forms with no more reality then his own. A small imperious man rounded a bend and caught him standing looking about confused. "You there, standing around, You get lost from your work detail?" the smallish pale humanoid with white hair and dark clothing said as put his hand on his hips. Kern said nothing, for his mind was not settled and the ability to argue or commune, was still absent. The small man examined him, finding no tatoo or tag, he shook his head. "Not claimed? They must have forgotten to... damned medtechs, worse then you mindless ones. Fine then, come on, we don't have time for you to be lazy, one of the lords or ladies finds you about and it'll be my head. Mindless slaves... almost more trouble then you're worth." The man approached, and prodded him down to the cargo bay, and onto one of the various transports ferrying fresh clone slaves to the barren planet. ---\---/---\---/------\---/---\---/--- Kern had to bend over to enter the barren rock face, but beyond, a large pit that seemed to go down forever had hundreds of pale humanoids, not entirely unlike himself, toiled. Some carried heavy baskets of ore and rock, others toiled at pits of a boiling tar like substance. Kern did not know the purpose of some of what he saw, but the small man moved him on. "Korriban is still rich with minerals for harvest, that is were you mindless ones come in handy. I am called Agripa, your foreman." The small humanoid informed him as he worked. He was shoved into a rock crushing group with other tall humans and humanoids like himself, they all pounded away in unison on a single large ore fragment. One larger alien let drop a huge pick axe that splintered a tiny piece of the shiny rock. splinters of it scattered, some falling on the ground, others into the bodies of the other slaves present. The pain was ignored however, as the next stepped up and did the same. On and on they went, ignoring his arrival. "This... this is you. You look strong enough. This rock goes into making armor for the masters. You free it by breaking it down. Sure we could do it with droids, but some masters prefer the old way, the way of pain and anguish. You break it until you break, your blood, your pain, your suffering... all of it... goes into the rock... the rock makes the masters strong. Service to the masters brings glory to the Sith." The small man said with a wicked grin that exposed teeth that were jagged an horrid. "The...Sith." Kern said repeating him almost meekly. The words spoke to him, but he wasn't certain why. "Good, now get to work. Only break for protein nutrients and water. Waste go down there-" he pointed at a gross alcove with a hole. Then he handed him a tool, a heavy durasteel pickaxe with an odd looking tip, and pointed him at a new rockface. "You break now, until you break later. For the glory of the Sith" the man said with a nod and disappeared. Kern grasped the heavy pickaxe, and then slammed it towards the outcrop. The first blow came quickly, but the pickaxe bounced off at an awkward angle, nearly striking him. He picked it up again, this time he struck harder, causing the smallest nick in the wall. Soon he found a rhythm... striking and striking and striking. He focused his mind on the single point, he synapses gathering input, and reaching beyond himself to react only, not to see the next move. He would not proceed the rocks reaction. The loud sound of his implement hitting bare mineral rippled away from him, one of a cacophony of others working and toiling under the yoke of the massive juggernaut. "For the... glory... Sith." Kern said aloud copying his words in an undertone, as he continued to slam the tool into the unyielding wall of rock. Kern, Lord of Kesh, Emissary of the Sith to the Unknown Regions, Baron of Relmis... labored without let up.
  6. Yava... Yava... Get up! The room was dark, but outside a storm raged, rain and wind smacked at and in her eyes, figures stood around her. All of them seemed ominously close. Dark figures eager to see about her form some semblance of life. Then finally one of the figures pulled out a small needle, and pierced her eye. The pain was intense, like something from her nightmares but worse. The pain grew, and abated only after the needle was withdrawn. "There... now I'll be able to see." The voice said. But she knew the voice, it wasn't unfamiliar. The figures all withdrew accept one. "K..er..n" The name escaped her lips. As she lay quietly the figure smiled, and sat in the far corner. "Good. You're awake. Touch and go there but the Jedi saved you... very fortunate." Kern said as he pulled of a pair of black gloves of his hands slowly, revealing the blood stains of a recently embattled form. His body too was covered in wounds. Yet, he didn't seem perturbed by this. He in fact wasn't a HE at all. The face was hers, except for the battle scars. "You... you almost killed me." Yava felt the peculiar sense of talking to herself. Yet this person was...Kern? "Damn close I know. Don't be so hard on me... I was trying to win after all." He said as he leaned forward, his eyes leering at her accusation. "You bas...tard." a roll of thunder outside rocked the room as she said it. "See... now that's not very nice is it?" Kern said sternly. He sighed and wiped some blood from his face wound. He got up, exasperation in his motions, as he began to pace. He had her mannerisms almost perfect, it was like watching someone else in her skin. A sense of deep dread and revulsion came over her. "Damn, really hoped I'd win that one. I mean I hate losing, but losing to her, like that? I was so close. Let's just say I've had better days. She didn't even let me have any last words. Just so damned rude. I tell you... jedi these days have no sense of history. It's all slice slice, kill kill, exterminate evil." He said complaining and ranting about his loss. Yava felt his feelings too, a bitter anger over losing. But why... she didn't lose, and why wasn't she angrier at him? "Oh... I suppose I should explain... well...this." He/she said as it turned and approached her bed side. The voice was hers, the face was hers... everything about the person in front of her was her. Except it wasn't it was darker, louder, angrier. It's rage shook the room. "Where... where are we?" She asked looking around he non-descript hospital room. "I peeked a little, the 'Ryloth Spite' I believe. There is a jedi looking after you. Damned fool wants to save you. Jedi are just so reliable you know?" she said as her embodiment continued to pace. "But-" "Oh right, this is your mind... well a small part of it. Think of it... like a partition. A hidden sector. IT's deep, deep, within your unconscious. I had to be careful, too deep and I would be lost, too close to the surface, well that would cause-" Her doppelganger paused as another roll of thunder clashed. "...well you know insanity is too nice a word for it. Call it a schism of your minds eye, a splintering of your very being into several violent shards of-" "What!?" Yava asked angrily trying to clarify what she was saying. "It's not pleasant. But lets not dwell on that ok? Right now, you've got to keep them off the scent. If the jedi try to probe you too deeply and with too much effort, we won't survive. Meaning us-" "But what the hell are you!?" She asked angrily. "I'm me, with some you along for the ride. I transferred a part of my mind to you when we linked before I killed your captain. I've been in a continual mental link with you since then. IT was severed when my mind was... He paused swallowing his anger, then continued. "IT's a little transference technique I picked up from my days as a Jedi... I perfected it on Kesh. It killed the first dozen or so... but it's a very useful tool as survival goes. In normal plebeians, I just hitch a ride. But... when someone special comes along. Just think of me as a light combination of my soul and your own. If I just took up residence, then the pesky Jedi with strong mental abilities would see me like a red flag to a Lurian Mudhorn. But like this..." Kern twirled about in her female, lythe form. A perfect facsimile of her to down to her hair and imperfect left ear. "Like this... I'm just a part of you. Your aura will be the same gray mass, nothing special. Provided you keep your emotions in check, I'll be no different then the normal conscious mind. I even have your predilections-" "That's... just evil." Yava said, clearly pissed off. She sat up and tried to remove the needle from her eye. "No... well perhaps a little evil. Sure I didn't ask permission, but the strong don't need permission to do what is needed. Sith survive because we do what we must. You are a force sensitive. I couldn't pass up the opportunity given the dangerous mission I had. Besides, you get way more then your share in this." "I don't want it, I don't want you...I want you out." She tried to pull at the needle but it wouldn't budge. The pain rose and fell when she stopped. "Well see that's the thing. I'm hardwired in. Scoop me out, and you come too. So unless you want to turn into an unsightly vegetable, I suggest working with me." He shot back, the full predicament setting in with her. "That isn't right... it isn't fair. You almost kill me, and now you want favors? You-" Yava said, her anger raging. "Oh boohoo... a little mind transfer and you get skittish. Come now. It's not all bad. You get all my experience, all of my memories. Everything to use as needed. You can't buy that sort of knowledge. Plus I know so many delicious tricks, all in all you're getting a great bargain." He said as he leaned in smiling with her face back to her. Yava began to panic, the storm outside got worse, and she began to shake. "I don't... I won't-I know a con when I hear one. Now I want answers, and since your in my head, I think I deserve some right the hell now!" She said a hint of her own anger growing. "Alright, alright... easy. There is a way. IT's complicated, but it can be done... listen you're waking up. Don't mention any of this... actually never mind. Your waking mind won't remember it, at least not at first. Just find your way to Korriban, remember... go to Korriban, I will take it from there." "Why you egotistical, selfish, narcissi-" the room vanished, and quickly her minds eye plunged back into the waking world. ----- Yava's eyes fluttered. She looked up at the strangely masked humanoid caring for her, she groaned as real pain racked her body and lungs. "What.... what the hell?" she asked groggily. "Where... where are we?" Yava asked the man without moving, as she struggled to breath.
  7. YAVA WARSAGA'S CHARACTER SHEET Identity Real Name: Yava Alvina Warsaga A.K.A: x Homeworld: None - Deep Spacer Species: Human Physical Description Age: 24 Height: 5'11" Weight: 135 lbs Hair: Raven Black Eyes: Green Sex: Female Equipment Clothing or Armor: Standard Small Freighter Crew Outfit Weapon: Reclaimed Imperial Officer Blaster Common Inventory: Deathsticks, Elicit off-brand Spice Faction Information Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: Force Sensitive Alignment: Neutral Current Faction Affiliation: None Current Faction Rank: None History Force Side: Dark Trained by: N/A Trained who: N/A Known Skills: Adept Pilot, Con-Artist, Thief, Amateur Slicer Background: The child of life long freighter pilots and con-artists, Yava is not part of any official faction accept her own. Struggling to simply survive, Yava has lived her entire life on ships of one size or another. At an early age she learned to pickpocket and steal from her father, and after joining a few exploits that earned her fines and jail time, she has lived on the edges of society, getting by on her looks and her wits. She has little patience for fools, and isn't opposed to sabotaging anyone who gets in her way. While living for a short time on Coruscant, Yava witnessed battles between the Jedi and Sith as a child, the horrors of what she saw never left her and still haunt her from time to time. The brutality of Sith fascinated and scarred her young mind. Her parents were violated and mutilated in front of her. She developed a deathstick habbit, as well as other forms of drug use in her late teens, and fell in with various criminal enterprises. She spent time in Republic jails for minor offenses, but got out on bail and never looked back. Her life long desire of getting her own ship was used by Baron Kern, who manipulated her past and her mind into helping him. Though she didn't understand how Kern did it, an imprint of the soul and memories of the Sith Acolyte have remained with her, bonded to her by a technique Kern did not share. Fused partially with a fragment of the dark Baron's Soul, Yava now must navigate a world with the terrible burden of Kern's deeds, both to her crew, and to the planet he ravaged. His voice and mind forced it's way into her mind, Yava has to fight to remain sane. Now however, she must find away to keep the secret of that which she carries, and find a way to do what she has always done best... survive. Kern's soul now partially hers, she feels compelled to extricate him from her mind. Ship Registration Name: Ryloth's Spite Class: Medium Frieghter - Corellian Heavy Lifter Model: CR - 110 Manufacturer: CEC Corellian Enginering Corp/Lycus Corp Variant Length: 145 M Armaments: None Armor: Durasteel Platting Anti-Personnel Defenses: None Modifications: Cargo Smuggling Container w/ false Density Compensator (Shows up as a null space of equipment on scans) Appearance: Gray Scheme with White/Yellow Highlights.
  8. M'ruka sat quietly in the large plush garden surrounding the small courtyard to the side of the large palace. It had been carved from what had once been a gnarled old forest, and the loyal servants of Kern had created a vast field of standing stones, statues, creeping ivy and large fruiting trees. It was here Kern had spent much time sparing and meditating. 'Preparing himself', He had said to her on many an occasion. Most of the plants had duel purposes, their fruits were sweet and tempting, but their roots, leaves, and pollen sacks contained deadly and interesting poisons, all of which had been studied by Kern in his days of ruling and administering the small backwards world. M'ruka Queen of Kesh, Consort of Kern, now sat leisurely on the grass, her loyal retinue of servants and handmaids ran to and fro, playing games, telling secrets, enjoying the privileges of finding M'ruka's favor. The guards stood sullen watch over her, their weaponry and shiny blaster armor glinting in the evening sun. The court officials had made it abundantly clear, In the absence of Kern, her will was as his. But she found that the passing days had not made life easier for her. She wore the now traditional garb of the ruler, a red and black tab-bard with large sleeves. She had made certain adjustments for the female form, and had done away with the large pointless medals, replacing them with more dignified necklaces, and a chieftain headdress. The headdress combined all the various colors and symbols of the various old tribes, a symbol of the unity Kern had brought. She trusted few, and told any of her thoughts to even fewer. In her heart, she missed Kern, despite his behavior, despite all that she knew of his brutality, she had known other sides to him. Before he had come, Kesh's population was consumed with tribal conflict, not a day passed where there wasn't a brutal reprisal and a struggle for supremacy. Now however there was peace. There was a unifying Keshiri language, a total end to the 'sectarianism', a word she had learned from a droid tutor Kern had imported specifically for her and her daughters benefit. As fate would have it, Kern had chosen her to rule. She felt unprepared for the task, but the past sixth months since his departure had proven that she could do it. She had passed laws intended to increase production and housing, she presumed over the creation of a High Court of the Sith, a council made of Kern's most trusted warriors, with her self at it's head. They governed over disputes, their decisions binding and absolute. All tribes were now one, and the unifying will of Kern had made her word as law. There were occasional challenges, stirrings of rebellion, even some desires among a stubborn few to return to the old ways. But the High Court had ears everywhere, and such treason was snuffed out before it could take hold. She watched as Kern's child grew. A child that was different. Not quite Keshiri, not quite human. She worried about the girl's acceptance, would she find a home in the palace as she had? She had the same skin tone and hands as her father, but her piercing green eyes, her flowing green-black hair and her longer then normal human legs... all these would mean she would stand out among her human counterparts. Already she was as tall as the black and silver protocol droid sent to teach her lessons on the Sith and the galaxy outside of Kesh space. Her intelligence too was remarkable. Most Keshiri could not speak until thier name day, Three or four seasons. But her daughter could sing, in universal basic, and Keshiri words flowed from her easily too. But she still had much to learn. She knew herself as 'daughter' and 'princess' but her name still eluded M'ruka. A name had power, it held magic, and who could name a child with such a legacy as Kern and her own? She had waited so long to read the letter Kern had left. Was she worried about his words, would they be a warning, a letter of regrets, a curse? The Sith facilitators had all fallen in line with Kern's orders in the absence of outside communication. There was the occasional concern that they would abandon Kesh, but still they remained, working tirelessly to remake the world into a factory of soldiers and production. More weapons and armor flowed from the factories now, and new Keshiri soldiers turned up everyday. The countryside was beginning to resemble the well ordered cities Kern had founded, with every resource used to it's fullest capacity. She could wait no longer. As her daughter began another game with the orphans and ran further out of sight she opened the small scroll. The sith lettering at the border looked to be written in Krayt blood, a favorite of Kern. The process caused the ink to be raised, and almost translucent. As she unfurled it, a small data chit fell out on to a the small blanket she lay upon. She took a breath and began to read. ~M'ruka~ If this letter finds you as I intend, then my servants on Kesh still hold to the ways of the Sith and are loyal to me. I have done what I can to insure that you will find protection from my acolytes no matter the conflict. Kesh will be the beginning of a great empire, one day it's people will rule vast regions of space, but only if they remain loyal to the Sith. I seek an audience with the new King of the Sith, a being of near infinite power known as E-Xo-Dus. I do not know if he will receive me, for the one who helped create me was once his rival. To that end I have set about to bring him a gift, an eternal tribute so large and impressive, that he may look upon my request to serve unto him and in turn Kesh with favor. To that end, I have included the plans for a new monument in his honor. My servants have received instructions to follow your guidance in this matter. When you give word, the building will commence. Remember, cherish the unity that I have brought to your world. Do not allow it to falter. Power must be used to ensure the peace I have brought to Kesh, never allow it to fall backwards. I trust that our daughter is well, and I desire her to begin to receive training in combat and the ritual combat as soon as she reaches her day of naming. I have also chosen a name for her. M'ynara. She will also inherit my Family name, Rel'mis. When she is of age she will be known as the Baroness of Rel'mis. Teach her to be as strong as you were when I found you. I do not anticipate failure, and I have no reason to believe that my death is eminent, but know this. There are no bonds of death or hell that will restrain my return. Do not abandon the Sith at any cost. Should any of the servants of E-Xo-Dus, or the God himself arrive without my presence you are to treat them with every reverence and give unto them anything that they wish. If others bearing powers arrive those who call themselves 'jedi' arrive, you are to use every last breath to oppose them. Kesh belongs forevermore to the Sith, as you belong to me. Do not betray me. ~Baron Kern Rel'mis~ A crack of thunder heralded the beginning of a sudden downpour. As M'ruka looked skyward, rain began to fall downwards in torrential force. As her servants gathered up her things M'ruka walked by herself and her personal guard back to the large palace on perched on the tall hill. Kern still lived, but what would become of him, their daughter? What would the future hold? These questions swirled as the rain continue to pour,
  9. Kern watched wordlessly as his opponent unfurled a salvo of deadly missiles, each deadlier and more menacing. Once again, she had used a technique of surprise and deceit. As the various viroblades came forth, Kern could sense their purpose, to finally end the fight, a desperate ploy to end the battle. With a note of finality a larger weapon was dispatched, one that had a tinge of the darkside in it's ferocity. This was no Jedi blade, it was something made for a far darker master. Indeed, she was a clever a Jedi, but she had made a fatal error, one so glaring that he had to stifle his surprise. She was exactly where he wanted her to be. This was the curse of the Jedi. Always they sought to end conflict, but they never embraced the full scope of the force, a force that was always in motion from light to dark. Never did they glimpse the full truth of the universe. The Sith new better, they had learned the reality of what truly mattered. The force did not seek to be neatly ordered into perfection, it always dissolved into chaos, a chaos that needed to be harnessed by the strong, the worthy, the dominant. True victory was determined by pain and sacrifice, suffering and ruthlessness. Her simpering sentimentality had no place in reality, it was all destined to be brought to nothing. The light would always be an enteral lie, darkness was the existential state of all things, because even that which burned brightly, did so for a time, only to be brought to nothing by the inexorable march of time. Any who opposed that truth, were only delayers of the inevitable. Sandy would learn this lesson today, a reminder to all who sought to fight the Sith. As the weapons closed in, it took Kern but a moment to use the force to gather his second unused light saber, the smaller sickly pale yellow blade activated, lifted upwards, and spun, unaided by physical force. Propelled only by the inertia of the force, and the connection to the darkside that Kern had gathered all through the fight. The spinning saber caught each of the projectiles mid flight, blunting each blades deadly inertia, slicing them in turn and sending them in various directions, only one of the blades reached it's target, embedding in his shoulder, but doing little but causing momentary pain. The deadliest missile was seemingly missed however as the light saber proceeded to arc away, leaving it unimpeded. Had he missed, had her rouse worked? Was Kern about to be struck dead center by this perfectly crafted blade? The parang sped towards Kern, and as it closed on it's target, for a brief moment he let Sandy's see the light of victory, let her be distracted by the dazzling thought that her powerful attack would end the conflict. Perhaps soon she and her merry band could celebrate in triumphant style, and regale themselves with stories of her cunning. Perhaps there would even be clever quip of revelry as they basked joy and love and friendship. How quickly the taste of victory would turn to ash in her broken jaw. Kern reached out with his arm, an arm that was a symbol of his past failure. The arm that was made of nothing more then hardened Keshiri steel and mixed metal droid like workings. The metal was not as durable as cortisis weave, nor was it blaster proof, But it was more then enough to stop the Parang. The sharpened weapon slammed into his gauntlet-ed outstretched palm, and sliced deep into the fake prosthesis. He judged that the weapons momentum would end in a dull metallic screech, that would leave it wedged down to his elbow, possibly bisecting his hand and forearm. His arm would be ruined once more, but it would be worth it, as his efforts had been focused covertly elsewhere. While Sandy's attack had been straightforward and erstwhile, Kern's had been secretive, and inscrutable, the final outworking of a strategy that she did not see. In the same moment the Parang struck... his own attack did the same. Through Victory my chains are Broken. Kern's weapon, the second light-saber, had flung towards it's true target unimpeded. But any jedi would be forgiven for ignoring it's arcing along a seemingly innocuous course. For years he had practiced using the force to guide his weapon alone. Aided by his power, and his hate, the weapon increased speed continuously, a missile not aimed at Sandy, but rather at one last locking bolt of an emergency release hatch on the large cargo bay door a few short meters from where she now stood... Kern had meant to force her towards the end of the room with the large containers for precisely this reason. In her haste to show her control of her landing, she had placed herself precisely where he wanted her. This was a docking area after all, a place where all matter of all sorts was transported too and fro. Now Sandy would joint the floatsom and abide among the waste as if expelled by the ship which would soon become the abide of the Sith forever more. The weapon struck it's intended target, slicing open the door mechanism, with a shower of sparks releasing the powerful solenoid that controlled it. A large screaming klaxon sounded, powered by an eternal battery to warn of the explosive decompression just as it occurred. The howling sound of the wind turned into a hellishly powerful vortex. The sound that the Jedi had heard before the combat had begun was of the outer seals being opened, a task Kern had accomplished while his puppet Yava had distracted them. Had they engaged him in parley, perhaps they would have discovered his covert act, but Sandy had attacked before she had learned what truly fragile ground she stood upon. Overconfident, she had engaged before examining just how precarious she and her friends position was. Now the trap was sprung, and the large door slammed open, instantly the vacuum of space pulled at the contents of the bay. The door beyond revealed the glowing colors of the fiery Maw in all it's glory. She and her friends would pay the full price for her foolhardy moves, her inflexibility, and her uncompromising nature, things that experience had taught Kern to avoid. In a moment, Sandy would be pulled into the very heart of that nothingness, her light extinguished by it as it had done to so many stars for countless eons. The Force shall free Me! Kern watched while Yava was pulled away and into the screaming hole that now threatened Sandy. With his still functioning hand he stabbed through the nearby plasteel flooring with his saber, giving himself an anchor point, as the world of the cargo bay descended into chaos, objects of all sizes flew towards Sandy's position closest to the large docking bay door. Now He aided the vacuum, adding his own power to expel her, a terrific shove of titanic darkside energies, meant to end any resistance that yet remained, and shove her fragile form into the nothingness that was her destiny. Crates and wreckage of all sorts of equipment and supplies crashed down towards her, along with jagged pieces of metal and plasteel, along with the tonnage of an entire deck as the failure of the door had upended the gravitational fields as well and within a moment her body would be pummeled, battered and then exposed to the complete and utter vacuum of space, and with Her energies so used up for her mass telekinetic attacks, Kern doubted she remained strong enough to stop them all. Then there was the fragile life of her Kel Dor friend whose container slipped from it's wedged position and now tumbled towards the large opening as well. There was no anchor for her to avoid her fate, no fleeing from the crushing weight of her error. In an instant he was sure her physical form would be exposed to the cold and dead honesty of the void. In that darkness her body would spend all eternity, a punishment for her impudence, a marker for all those who would dare oppose the rule of the Sith. An example to the arrogant and unwise, that their challenge was doomed before it started. One far day, from this, her body would be consumed by the ultimate and singular darkness of Maw. Kern's vengeance would mean that the ages would pass, empires and kingdoms and republics would wax and wane, but her folly would endure. Be free Sarna of the Jedi... (3)
  10. Patience... singular focus... deception... and finally ruthless aggression applied without mercy. These were the skills that had turned Kern from a neophyte in the darkside, into a Sith acolyte and if he prevailed far more. He was so much more then what this humble knight struggling to win this contest could imagine. A lesson had to be taught, a marker laid down as he had done so often before. The impudent and ignorant would be shown the truth, that true strength belonged to those who saw the galaxy for what it was, a gaping maw in which the only true divide was predator and prey. The Sith were supreme, Sandy would learn this... and so much more. "Your Kel Dor friend will be a nice addition to my laurels... the Sith have need of good slaves. And young Aidan? I sense the blood of mastery in him, he will have his pick of the finest Sith Lord's for his lessons. Imagine the bidding war when I bring the son of Jedi masters to market If he survives? Of course these are fates that only you can save them from." Kern said twisting the knife with his words, with a condescending frown. He felt the object she constructed coming, and while stopping it would have been child's play, a trap was set in motion in his mind. As it came towards him, Kern turned at the last moment possible, just enough to guide it's path with the force. The jagged tip of the small spear she had constructed seemed to strike home, plunging into the side of the mask, through skin and flesh, ripping blood vessels in Kern's cheek. He cried in mimicked agony, a cry of mortal terror and pain that reverberated through the entire ship. "AAGGH!" The mask itself flew clean off, clattering to the ground next to Sandy as He clutched his face in what seemed to be agonizing pain. His own blood splattered forward into Sandy's forehead and eyes. She could see his full visage now... something more then she expected. Midwanjontû châtsatul nu asha! Pain filled Kern's mind and body, it permeated deep within, animating him and filling him with a deeper connection to the darkside. He had learned through his long exile on Kesh, that his pain was no impediment. He had lost a limb, suffered unimaginable tortures, pain to him now was secondary to his will. It fueled his thoughts, his need for revenge; and objects of his wildest imaginations were possible with application of pain and anguish. Suffering, applied with ample cruelty, that made one strong. The darkside, the power to control life itself, all of it was available to him. Red blood now streamed down the side of Kern's neck, his graying hair and exposed flesh that had grown increasingly pale with passing of time, was highlighted by the heavy red glow of his saber still clutched in the Makashi's principle defensive stance. The affect was that one side of his face was nearly pristine and only weathered by time and age, the other was an ugly mass of flesh and protruding bone. He allowed her to feel his life force ebb, as if she had struck a triumphant blow, he allowed a moment of light to pass by, a ray of hope that he knew would animate her, give her just enough rope. It was then he strangle her nascent hope with impunity. Shâsotjontû châtsatul nu tyûk. With a quick slice, Kern cut the remainder of the spear free, and spat out the business end, just as Sandy came forward to press her attack. Kern kept himself moving backward carefully keeping his steps in line with the strategy, as Sandy continued to launch her onslaught, he remained content to allow her to expend her considerable speed and power into attacks that one by one proved fruitless. As each of her strikes bore down upon him, his experience with form two allowed him to defend each attempt at injury with a minimum of movement, her blows were struck away with methodical elegance, but he made sure to give her a good show, occasionally her strikes would glance against his armor, the sparks and penetration leaving superficial burns and nicks. The strike at his chest missed his heart by inches, remained the closest she'd come to ending him had it not been for his precision footwork in a deft dodge. Still He reserved his power, keeping her busy as he studied her pattern. "Your love will fail. Your pain, your anger, your hidden self... that is the path to power. Embrace them... use them. Only that strength can defeat me." He beckoned cryptically in a voice unburdened by the mask's vocalizer. Finally, as she smiled, smug in her seeming victory he struck. A counter attack came forward with a vicious brutality and certainty as he released a small portion of his stored power. Each sweeping move he made was combined with a series of feints, ripostes, and carefully planned retreats and lunges. He made her pay for every moment of defense, exerting himself only when she tried to take a moment to recover. His true strength had only begun to reveal itself, as the pain he was enduring animated his every sinew. She would be made to pay for the sins of her for-bearers, and a heavy price in blood would be extracted from Sandy for her misguided devotion to the dying creed of Jedi. Finally as she tried to defend against a sweeping feint to her right, he reached out with the force, using just a small portion of the darkside energies he'd gathered to overwhelm her otherwise immaculate defense. He laid a clean and precise upwards slice toward her wrist, in a move meant to disarm her. He followed this by a downward move and caught her jaw with his elbow, and without giving a her a chance to brace herself he followed it by a violent and brutal kick to her midsection that was meant send her form from him with great momentum towards a pile of heavy containers. Ashajontû kotswinot itsu nuyak! Kern laughed now. Feeling Aidan's life begin to leave, his death becoming more certain with each passing moment. He knew Sandy would sense it as well, perhaps this was the push she needed. "Get up Sandy! I have so much more to show you." Kern beckoned playfully, his voice only slightly altered by the facial gash her attack had left. She was a stubborn one, but Kern was determined the lesson be taught. As the last light of a dying sun heralded it's end, so Sandy's burning embers would seem triumphant just as he snuffed her from the mortal plain. (2)
  11. "Damn… you were holding that in for a while ‘eh son? I never-" The form of his father seemed oddly pleased with his son, a but before he could respond his form was split in two by a red lightsaber in the hands of a Sith wearing an odd mask and appearing from the smoke of the fighting. “Father figures always find a way to disappoint, even after death-", said the figure, as it slowly retreated from him. His fathers’ torso slid forward, his life leaving him. His face contorted into brutal agony, but instead of organs and burnt viscera, the man’s body quickly turned to ash as an errant turbo laser sliced down from on high to extinguish ground troops. The explosion obscured everything, splattering Aidan with dirt and the ashes of his father. The scene suddenly grew more intense, the battle field around him was filled with soldiers and combat, but it was difficult to see emblems and uniforms, the weaponry was uniform, as if the fight was between the same side, a civil conflict with no end in sight. All that pierced the smoke was the sound of death and violence. The Sith was gone, replaced now by a monumental struggle. The sky grew darker, and everything around Aidan seemed menacing and dangerous. Brutal firefights turned into struggles of life and death. The field surrounding Aidan was filled with other figures, slowly approaching him. They were recognizable, Jedi of renown and honor, some alive others long dead or vanished. All of them surrounded him. Yet this was no comforting presence, this was something else. "The counsel will come to order... we must discuss the sad matter of Sandy Sarna." Said a stern voice. Armenia Draygo took her place in front of him, directing the others to sit. The figures all joined in a circle, about Aidan, but he was no longer alone, Sandy was there, but she was different. He recognized some of the old masters, past and present, but all of them were different... younger, stronger, more imposing. It was like a vision from fifteen years prior brought into the present. Even Sandy… Sandy who stood in center of the circle next to him seemed younger, almost childlike. But she didn’t flinch as her fate was discussed. "What say you Master Kirlocca?" asked his mother who looked on Sandy disapprovingly. The darkside I feel in her...a true shame, but she must be destroyed. the tall Jedi suddenly morphed into a somehow hairier form. “She carries a seed of the darkside deep within, when it takes root… it will mean death and horror for many.” "We must end her connection with the force, by any means necessary." Said a solemn Darex Trevalian. Adenna spoke up finally. “Then it is agreed, she must be made one with the force.” His mother grabbed her own special saber, and approached. Slowly, they all raised there sabers activating them at once...forming a long line of powerful masters all with one goal in mind... ending Sandy. The rush was on, and in short order they all attacked. Sandy readied herself activated her small saber, and in a flurry of strikes began to defend herself in earnest. “Aidan!-“ her cries for help were undeniable. --- Kern sat patiently as Sandy clenched her jaw. Her response was jarring at first, he'd expected her to do what most Jedi would do given her situation, parlay, discuss terms, offer a pitiful argument as to why he should surrender. But instead she went straight into action, hurling herself and with force towards him at a speed that no ordinary being could anticipate... but Kern was no ordinary being. On the contrary his instinct of primal defense had not diminished with the passing of time, and given her slight warning, he already sensed from experience that she was would follow her initial wave with a fiery attack. He was delighted to see how quickly she resorted to such a beautiful display of violence. Sister indeed... ~PEACE IS A LIE~ Perhaps She had hoped to catch him off his guard, to put an end to a conflict before it truly began. Sandy was ignorant however, Kern had positioned his place at the precise spot where the darkside was strongest. He had learned from long years of hard fought battles, and his failure to defeat his old master to always place himself where he had the superior position. Her lack of vision and knowledge of the darkside would be her true undoing. While her opening salvo was impressive it was also foolhardy... and deeply disrespectful. He loved it. He thirsted for the thrill of violence, growing stronger each passing instant as it grew tantalizingly near. Kern did nothing at first, seemingly awaiting the arrival of the many projectiles placidly, as if resigned to his fate. He thought of his complete and lingering hatred for everything the woman assaulting him represented, a deep and uncontrollable rage that seethed through every pore of his being for those that had so chained his power, and had for so long poisoned his mind with lies. The immense power at his disposal crackled beneath his skin, as he drew that power into a colossal schism of darkside energy, then at the precise moment of her apex... he released it with simple raise of a clenched fist. The energy needed to stop her and the fragments was considerable, but the expenditure was a easily purchased by his careful planning. Yava was spared as well, the attack missing her position beneath Kern's feet. Still, the metal fragments parted mere inches from his face, and as the larger pieces clattered harmlessly off his armor and mask, several smaller pieces struck harder, but his armor would prevent most from doing any real damage other then superficial scratches. Kern had already turned his attention to the true threat, the form of the Jedi crashing in upon him. A clever rouse, yet Kern had known something like it was coming from the moment she clenched her sharp jaw. “..L'yukstiwr!” The ancient Sith curse emanated from Kern as he finally acted. All at once Sandy's forward momentum was slowed by a complete shift in the force, as the very light she garnered for her attack evaporated as it grew closer to the enormity of the power she was challenging. With incredible speed, faster then She had charged at him in point of fact, a bright crimson blade snapped to life, catching Sandy's blade as He rose and halted Her attempted mortal strike. The darkness about Kern swallowed whole any hope She had of ending the fight quickly then and there. The blades crashed together with a horrible violence that jolted Kern and the vibrant red blade issued a slicing squall as He glowered at his would be slayer. He could sense the deep passion within her, a deep need to defeat him, anger seething at her Jedi friends hurt, fear over losing the other. Deep within there was an unsatisfied animal, just beyond her willingness to look. She would deny it of course, but Kern knew those feelings all to well and her true strength lay beyond. How easily they could be used...how quickly they could be harnessed. Kern held her blade back with his own saber in both hands. As he stood undaunted, he noticed a small shard of metal had found it's way to an protected spot near his shoulder. The wound was slight, but the injury was still a blow nonetheless. He would need to rely on the deep and unyielding darkness that was his true anchor to overcome this agile opponent. The sabers' screamed as they were caught in between the two forces, the only object between them and a quick and painful end. Fragments of light and dark danced in the darkened hangar, and sparks flew in all directions. "Clever, but against my power? Useless." Kern informed as he towered over Sandy and shoved her back with a quick riposte of his saber. He shook his head and neck at once, like a dangerous beast preparing for the vicious fight to come. "You have heart, but no passion. You have conviction... but no vision...you see only what I allow." He said seductively as he approached her. "Let me show YOU!" Kern said as he engaged her fully using an advanced technique of a makashi form that had touches of intrinsic brutality. Then as he came forward, he was suddenly everywhere, his power seemingly attacking from every point in the room Sandy wasn't looking towards, He wasn't of course, but with the confused mess of the maw, Kern could reflect his energy into a half dozen attack vectors, using his experience to make her see shadows that weren't him, but carried his malice, another his anger and rage, and into another a deep sense of dread and hunger, then when at last he could feel her attempt to refocus, he advanced, with measured but powerful strikes that targeted her methodically, from her head, to her shoulders, to her midsection, then with a flourish Kern attempted a stabbing blow at her unprotected side. Now within range He pivoted, slamming a hardened knee directly at her midsection, followed by a gauntlet-ed fist to her chest, with enough force power behind it to crush a dozen sentient beings lungs in. Kern had tried thirteen once, but for some reason thirteen crushed rib cages was one too many. Such wonderful impudence.... She would not be rewarded kindly, but still Kern was intrigued, even delighted to have a true opponent to test himself against. If she wished to die, then Kern could oblige, as there was no glory without victory, and no victory without a sufficient challenge. Sandy did not know what she had awoken, and Kern was all to pleased to show her. Her death would be a triumph, a crescendo to an auspicious day. (1)
  12. The rush of wind stopped all at once, as the tendril of the force that Sandy had reached out with grabbed hold of something in the darkness and shadows. The powerful presence seemed to stop all at once, suspended in a moment, paused like a boulder falling over just before being pulled by gravity into an inexorable fall. A deep guttural growl pierced the air, and a the words of an unknown tongue floated through their ears and the force itself, a dark curse and rumination that sounded less like words, and more like the cries of a beast as it prepared to strike at it's cornered prey. "R'the Ly'ru anjma grol'tha!" This unknown language was the tongue of the Kesh, in particular a phrase that had no translation into galactic basic, a dark ominous spell that was an invocation of a people to whom life and death had no purpose, only the pursuit of battle and conquest. The phrase was a promise, and an invitation, a call to a deep instinct in all beings that were mortal... a reminder that death was near. The wave of fear and panic that washed forth was all-encompassing, a feeling of malaise and unease that was all but overwhelming. It was like some great number of people were about to die, and could do nothing about it. Then with a violent reversal, the force which Sandy expended came back upon her with lighting speed, but instead of a gentle tug, this was monumental push. Her power had been absorbed, refracted through one of the vortices of the darkside, and shot back at the pair as a wave of debris and metal fragments, broken droid parts and cargo containers, and the ragged remains of bodies separated in torrent of upheaval. The darkside rolled towards the two Jedi like a tidal wave rising ever higher eventually reach the ceiling of the docking bay area, the sound of crashing metal upon metal almost deafening. Yava's unconscious form was nearly dragged into it as it approached Sandy's defiant position but at the last possible moment the wave subsided, leaving a clear if messy path towards a lone figure at the far end of the room. The figure wore an unsettling mask, covered in markings of a culture unknown to any save a few, it's exaggerated features protruded with sharp angles and from it's eyes, seemingly devoid of life, emanated two darkly crimson and fiery iris's, glowing in there intensity. A short blood red half cape fluttered behind it's shoulder, a mark of royalty, and beneath the mask a body covered with a strange foreign armor it's true contours obscured by darkness and only illuminated by Sandy's lightsaber, and the hot red glow of the eyes. The sex of the being was hard to determine, the tall figure itself was almost asexual, giving nothing away. "Now, now. Sandy, your old master would never have approved of such idle threats of destruction...would she?",the Sith said in a mildly corrective tone that was darkly scolding and foreboding. The wreckage and debris still hung in the air, suspended as if on invisible strings, tied together only by the manipulation of the force and the sheer reverberation of power the Sith in front of them was exuding. Sandy's defense held, but the Kel Dor was then struck by an armature of some large docking mechanism. The jedi's unconscious form was dragged into nearby shipping container, and the lid slammed shut tightly. Then a moment later the container was flung and crashed into the far corner, lodged in place by an even heavier girder. "Alone at last. I bid you welcome to my ship, sister. Do make yourself at home. You'll forgive me, I haven't had time to tidy up... it's been a rather long day." The voice was altered slightly by the mask and the vocalizer within added a raspy sheen to it's tone, the edges of the words slicing though the air with precision. It was then the body of Yava was picked up by the force, and deposited near the mysterious figure. Yava was gently laid at their feet as if she were to be an offering to the heathen gods. "I'm so pleased you have finally arrived. With an auspicious occasion such as this... allow me to prepare the setting." The figure said solemnly as it stood stone still it's form only moving slightly as it breathed, it raised a gloved hand, and with a flick of a wrist, several containers and smaller pieces of debris flew to a place near Kern's position, they quickly formed a small throne, several levels elevated the chair, with an odd assortment of desiccated bodies and droid parts, forming a short series of steps, finally coming together just as the Sith non-nonchalantly climbed them and sat down. As they did so, the debris hanging in the air fell, piece by piece, raining in neat little piles that stacked up and formed a long causeway devoid of anything except bare metal flooring. "Now I believe we have much to discuss." The figure said as it leaned back on the makeshift throne slightly, it's intensely glowing eyes staring intently at the Jedi, shining like two red-hot coals peering down on her. --- As Aidan approached, the feeling of panic increased, finally he could make something out pinned under a fallen metal container. The figure was still almost in darkness. They were tantalizing close, and just as he came close enough to see... A metallic click alerted him to a trap. Before he could react, even with his attuned senses, the Sith device spewed forth from a nearby counter top. The gust of toxic air blasted him in the face, and and acrid smell of toxin and poison filled his nose... The figure he was moving towards was revealed. A desiccated corpse of a jedi youngling, trapped in the final moments of life. It's dried skin was black and cracked. It's hand outstretched in pain and anguish. It was clear that it had scratched long scars into the metal flooring within it's reach, as it attempted to crawl free... it's last moments of panic and fear had forever trapped itself in endless loop of the darkside, an attempt in vain to free itself using the forbidden powers at it's disposal. It was a perfect place to set a trap. Now there were voices... voices that screeched aloud to him, the sounds of anger and pain and fury that poured into his ears, past his physical ears, to a place within his core... each screech and guttural yell the sound of someone dying with no relief in site. "You came too late..." the voices scolded. A trio of figures approached him, shadows that had form but no real shape. As they grew closer, they formed sharp relief in the darkness, outlined by an unseen energy beyond all reckoning. "You didn't save us..." A large statuesque figure loomed over him, almost tree like. It's voice boomed, as it took shape. "You couldn't help us and you can't help your friends..." said another smallish form, almost childlike in appearance. Suddenly the scene changed, and Aidan was transported to another place, somewhere cold and and barren, a field of dying brown grass... and burning fire belched onto distance cities in the distance as a monumental war took place in skies above. In the distance, a spire that looked like the jedi stronghold on Courscant fell to the ground, as many voices screamed in violent death. "Aidan!" The regular size figure finally materialized. "What the hell are you playing at? You really think that you are worthy of carrying my name pulling stunts like this?" the visage of his father stood light-saber in hand at the long end of the room, arm's folded disapprovingly.
  13. "Come out then Sith." ... "If what you and your crew desire is freedom, TRUE freedom, then help yourselves by helping us." "You want to kill him, don't you? Me too... but he's always in my head. Doesn't matter where I go, or what I think... he's there. I hated it at first, but over time... you get used to it, it's warm... like standing next to a lava flow, at any time that lava could burn you to a cinder but it doesn't. It's terrifying... but you learn to like it." She said to Sandy as she dropped the last bit of the death stick and rubbed it into the ground with her boot. There was a moment where the air seemed still. Where it seemed as if she would receive a reply. That some voice would answer her. But there was nothing a but a hollow thud and metal clang of metal in the darkness, and something out of sight that seemed to shift, the air seemed disturbed, as some small and insect like thing skittered past them in the darkness. The pair of Jedi could feel the force shift at the edge of their perception, a shadow that seemed to dance just out of reach. In the distance an airlock door crashed and snapped into a locked position. The heavy clanging sound was repeated a second time, and then a third. There was another sound, a slow and low whistle... steady and smooth. Yava looked intently at the other Jedi, her head tilted to the side as she took another drag of the death stick. "This ' true' freedom your talking about? What is it exactly? Can you eat it? Can you touch it? Will it keep you warm in the vacuum of deep space?" "My business is carrying stuff, one place to another...people want stuff, we get them stuff... and in my line of work if you can't touch it, then it ain't really there, and if it isn't there... then it doesn't exist. Freedom? Freedom is just a word people with power like you and your boss lady over there made up to keep us arguing over scraps. You keep your freedom, way things are going, it won't mean much." Yava spat a loogie on to the ground in front of the Jedi and turned back to Sandy. "I gave you my help already. That death stick... pretty much helped me burn off the toxin. But I guess I took in.... to much-" Yava voice was growing increasingly agitated, but then it stopped. A sudden gust of wind seemed to come from no where and everywhere all at once. Yava was stopped in her tracks. In another moment she dropped to her knees, her eyes looking surprised and then tranquil as if she collapsing into a deep sleep. The air smelled different... it smelled acrid now. The slow increasing smell of something deeply organic and earthy now slowly turned into the stench of death. The smell was growing stronger, becoming overwhelming. This was no longer natural, it was heavier, harsher... and it began striking at the pairs lungs. Even the Kel Dor's antiox mask was not completely immune, but for how long it would hold up was in question. "Out of ti-" her last words were muted, as if carried on a tiny shallow breath of her form. There was a final word, a name that was barely audible. Kern... --- A voice cried out to Aidan as he tried to find his way back. The voice was many things, like a light beam being being split through a prism. Whatever the voice was, it was in pain, panicked, fearful. Hello!... is someone there...!? Please Help! The voice rattled through the hallway... bouncing from surface, it's echo's unnatural and strained. The source seemed to be a locked hatch door just to his right. A door where only the bottom portion was held open by a large fallen girder it's weight clearly in a precarious position. A life was in jeopardy... it cried out in the force. It was bleeding, it's energy ebbing... something was dying, and soon it would be no more. It squirmed, it struggled, it clung to life begging to be saved. Someone had survived, beyond all odds, a pilot, or an officer, someone small and insignificant had survived. The person was there, but they were in mortal danger. "Hurry! I cant-" the voice pleaded, begged, but then suddenly stopped... frozen as if silenced by something terrifying and sharp in darkness. The girder began to shift, and in a moment it would slam down, slamming shut the chance of survival for whatever was trapped. There was very little time to decide, save whatever it was, or allow it to be forever ended. Join his friends, or attempt to save this precious life from it's final fate.
  14. "Aidan." Yava repeated his name back to him, and then turned to the female jedi, the apparent leader. "Sandy Sarna." She did the same for the woman. Her voice almost carried a hint of recognition. "Yava, Yava Warsaga." Yava replied as she looked over the trio. "Guess ol' squid face is 'feeling' the creep factor of this place too." She said noticing the third companion didn't speak. "Ships basically dead, our scans show the reactor is functional but powered down, plus there is way more movement then there should be... it's like the whole ship is filled with people, but we don't get any life signs. it's more then a little creepy." Yava said as she took another drag. "Like I said, I'm not here for salvage rights, and I'm not looking to make any deals. Me and my crew aren't a part of your business, but we were hijacked in deep space by-" she stopped all at once, noticing the the young kid casually moving off, but trying desperately to look like he wasn't. Classic, why was it always the kids who did the stupid? "-Um... I wouldn't wander off if I were you!" Yava said as the young man began to do precisely that. "See the thing is, this whole docking area-" Yava continued with a long drag on the stick clutched in her slender fingers. "-covered in traps." She finished shaking her head as to his foolishness. "And before you ask, No, I don't know how they work, or what they'll do when they go off, and I'd just as soon not find out." She said taking another drag. "Now, you want to make a deal? Ok... I'll go. Put down your light-saber, and walk out of here. That's the deal. Dissappear, scurry back home and tell your other little Jedi friends you couldn't find this place. It's the best I can do." Yava said with eyes of someone who had seen more then she was willing to say. There was a deep darkness to her face, as if her voice wasn't entirely her own, and her actions even less so. Her defiance was undaunted. As if anything they could do was nothing to what was behind her thoughts. There was a groan in the distance, as if some large metal girder had begun to bend unnaturally, it could have been the natural forces of gravity trying to pull the ship apart, or it could have been something else, but with all of the swirling vortices of the darkside dancing from every shadow, there was no way to tell. Yava had turned to hear it as well, but then she slowly turned back, her earlier playfulness almost vanishing. "You're all running out of time..." Yava said hauntingly. --- Aidan... I am Sandy Sarna of the Jedi Order and Rebel Alliance. Sandy... Sandy... The name, I know that name... why do I know that name... I know that name... Kern turned the name over in his mind, ripping it's syllables to shreds, filtering each sound as if it were a puzzle to be solved. The revelation darkened his thoughts. Of course... the same... the one and the same... The stage, the audience, everything just as it should be. Kern activated two buttons on his armlet, placing several of his little surprises into the armed position. He stretched his neck once, and smiled, feeling as if he'd been given a tremendous gift. The dark-side was indeed bountiful in it's offerings. The time was almost at hand...
  15. “This is a Jedi Ship. We are Jedi. You and yours must leave immediately, this is not a ship for scavenging.” "Sure, just take it, not like I'll need to defend myself now that your here." Yava said sarcastically. Looking at the blaster that was now far from her hand. "Look, what she said is true, but this ship was also left here, intentionally for a long time. The only people that are going to have any use for it is the Jedi, and if you're looking for a salvage claim or anything, they're likely going to be your best option for getting some kind of reward out of this floating metal heap. But that also only happens...if you work with us. So...how about we put the blaster away, yeah?" "Oh my maker... are you two doing a good guy bad guy thing? Seriously? You guys need to swap notes on negotiations... this old routine was stale before the old republic days." Yava went to her shirt pocket, "Relax guys, it's not a thermal detonator, its just a death stick." Yava said as she one out and began taking it in. "So you're the big bad Jedi?" She asked, walking towards Aidan slowly, stopping only when she got within a two meters of the woman with saber. "I must do nothing, you aren't in charge here, and this hasn't been a Jedi ship for a long time. Look around... do you see anything here that resembles some great Jedi stronghold? It's a derelict, forgotten, full of lost things and lost people. If I wanted salvage rights, you'd have to kill me, my crew, blow up my ship... You think that thing is supposed to scare me? I've seen a lot worse...recently." Yava said undaunted by the saber piercing the darkness. "So let's see, force powers check, sense of moral superiority check... unbearably naive... double check." Yava said sharply. "Yup, your Jedi alright. Last I heard you were like being hunted by Sith, or are you Imperial knights now?... I'm not really a news person." Yava said as they checked every box Kern had told her about. "First...I'm not salvaging anything, and second I didn't even know this ship was here until a few days ago. Hell, If I had my way I'd be in a Sauna on Corellia being pampered... instead I'm at the arse-end of the galaxy being confronted by you people." Yava said undaunted by the woman's posturing. "So now what? You cut me in half and eject me out the airlock or do you want to tell me your names, I tell you mine and we talk about this like normal people?" Yava asked as she turned away from the trio, and leaned against a broken Gonk Droid on it's back.
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