Königreich des Teufels - Demolished Sith Academy (Carida)

[Yue]

((Cyber legs sound like a good idea. Thanks for the leg up in the matter.))

 

Surgeons came in the chamber and dragged Yue away into the med bay. They saw pain in the face of the young apprentice, but nothing more than that. As they started to clone him a new limb Yue grabbed the head doctor by the neck. This was probally the best time to pick a few enhancements that would help him very soon.

 

"Cut off my other leg and give me two hate powered biomechanical legs. They better durastell and be able to store what I may need or I will kill you myself!" The doctor did not like be told what to do, but he did not like dying either. He was going to give Yue a seditive. Yue slapped it out of the doctors hand. He needed to fell the pain, he needed to become used to pain once more. The memoires he had from his battles as a Jedi were painful yes, but not enough. Now though he needed to feel the pain.

 

((WARNING-Some what graphic matieral))

 

The doctor picked up one of his bone saws and turned it on. The blade started to turn and whine. The doctor lowered it down slowly on to his other leg. It cut though the flesh like butter send blood into the air and on the doctor. The pain was small. It quickly reach muscle and now whole chunks of flesh were being cut and butchered. Blood was now dripping on to the floor at very quick pace. One of the nurses inserted a bacta tank into him. The doctor cut though the bone and though the rest of the leg in one swift stroke. The pain was like a searing heat. Yue's face was cortored and mishapend showing pain beyond any normal persons torrence. Yue was subcuming as the blood now dripped at a very unpleasnt rate. Yue was about to scream in agaony, when he started instead started to channle it into somthing else. The pain went to his left and hand a bolt of force lighting hit one of the nurses in the head sending here into the wall and causing her to fall limp. Her eyes as well as her whole head had been chared black. The doctor removed the now blood drenched saw and placed it on the table. He feared for his own life if he was to continue, then again he fear for his own life if he didn't. The doctor sneaked over to Yue and gave him his strongest sleeping medication. Yue was furious, but as he was about to react he passed out.

 

Hours later he awoke. He saw that they had severed up to his pelvic region once they discovered how far the rot had gone. Due to this his whole bottom of his body was mechanical. He was half human and half droid. The plus side was that they were excatly what he wanted.

[Dagon]

I'd shake your hand apprentice, but the moment your hand touched my gauntlet it would melt off in a blaze of hilarity. I intend on passing some of my knowledge to those who are worthy, if find any. I must say though, this place is rather lacking in the tools of our trade.

 

With your permission, Kakuto, I'd like to construct sith laboratories at a new location, for the purposes of training apprentices in my trade and for increased production of Sith arms and armor. The facilities here are inadequate for my needs, but with new facilities I can outfit the entire Sith order, all I need is the resources and apprentices who understand that fire is for more than destroying things.

 

It was good to see that the respect that Ryu had held me in has not diminished over time. My choice to follow the path less traveled has always been my greatest asset and bartering tool.

[Alora]

Alora found herself changing directions, heading into the medical wing instead. She checked on Raxeon, caressing his face while the apprentice slept before she moved to Exodus's bedside. She checked with the doctors, being told that both of them had made full recoveries and would wake when they were ready to. She nodded and took a seat beside her first apprentice's bedside.

 

Her hand gently touched his face, a finger lightly tracing his jawline, down his arm before resting upon his hand.

 

"Wake soon Darth Exodus... there are things to do. And I'm sure you want your revenge..."

 

She sat back then, meditating on what the future might hold.

[Kakuto Ryu]

"Excellent idea. I trust you've spent this time away forming grand designs for us. Take this apprentice. Tethyn will make a powerful alchemist. And... Another. In the Med bay. Exodus. He desires to learn Alchemy, though he may not know it yet. He will wake before long. He too is yours for the taking, a lord that'll serve your purposes well. For now that's all I can offer, but you can trust that I'll be sending more your way in time. Perhaps some of the former Serpents, should their kind reappear. Send a runner to notify me of your new base's location once established."

 

Kakuto rubbed his chin, beginning to walk away. He paused momentarily, adding, "When Tethyn has learned his craft, I want you to return him to me. I have great use for him. I'll leave you to your work."

 

The Dark Lord left quickly, stopping only to pick up his warhammer and scrape the blood off. He hoisted it over his shoulder and disappeared into his quarters, where he quickly rearmed himself for the battle. He donned freshly rebuilt battle armor, to the same specs as the last two. Something would have to be done soon, for as strong as they were made they never seemed to last a battle. As soon as his arsenal was fastened on the various belts and straps he wore to carry it and the Krayt Dragon's tooth necklace he had made hung around his neck the Dark Lord exited, boarding his mech to leave for Maltauros...

 

((OOC: All servants of the Chaos Gods should be leaving for Maltauros immediately. JIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII- HAD!))

[Oblivion]

It was in the Dark Lord's right and duties to assign members to acculate within the organization, a power to control the fates of those who served under him. This fact did not bother him in the slightest, mainly since the decision benefited him greatly. He would contently continue to stand while grinning over those comments of becoming 'a powerful Alchemist' and mentioning needing his services afterwards only furthur flattered him, grinning deeply the more the conversation between the two went on.

 

"Thank you for this oppertunity, my Lord. I look forward to our next meeting, when such time should arrive. May the Force serve you well."

 

With that, the young lad gave his final respects by bending his neck and tracing a couple steps back, allowing him ample room as the Dark Lord removed himself from the throne and began to make leave for whatever other duties was on his agenda.

 

Now he stood in the presence of what would seem to be someone he was also destined to meet, the one called a ”œMaster Alchemist.”

[Tarrian Skywalker]

Tarrian got up and dressed, and went out to meet up with DMD...

 

"Well, now lets get started..."

[Alora]

Rising from Exodus' bedside, Alora kissed his lips gently. The parting kiss was one that she wanted him to remember her by should the worst happen to her.

 

"See you on Maltauros my old apprentice..."

 

She left his bedside, heading for her ship, feeling the Dark Lord leaving from the same calling she was feeling and that she was sure Exodus was feeling as well. She felt his hate for her, maybe he'd have a chance to take it out on her now.

 

Arriving at her rooms she gathered a few other items before heading to her ship. Once there she changed into her robes of Slaanesh, drapping her whip and sabers to her side, though placing Revan's in a secret location in her ship. Alora would need one stop before getting to Maltauros and she would spend the remainder of the trip in meditaions. The Night's Fury soon lifted off, heading off to destiny...

[Dagon]

Prepare your things and the academy's alchemical supplies and texts, as I doubt they will be needed here. Once these things have been assembled you will depart Carida and journey to the planet of Naboo where we will establish suitable facilities. But first, I'd like to know the size, disposition and nature of the Sith order, primarily concerning the lords and masters.

 

I need to know what my options are, and who my rivals are. It is a dangerous game we play.

[Oblivion]

"Hmm.. Let's see," The young man made a few adjusts to the chest plate worn, finding himself having to occassionally press it farther in if he decided to slouch. He had to think of this for a second before answering..

 

"From my past experiences, primarily dealing with the invasion on Coruscant, there were only a couple Sith Masters that participated, few Lords, and I as one the sparring apprentices, That is only to say who actually went fought, after all. I'm sure some stayed behind for.. different reasons, although they are still guilty for punishment in my mind. We needed all the help we could get."

 

There was a direct moment of pause, knowing the fact that if more of their number showed up, perhaps they could have taken the Temple; if nothing, destroyed it just as easily.

 

"Something recent has happened here, a trial of sorts for other apprentices. I, myself, have been trained for the majority away from this Temple, having spent time on the old planet of Korriban and the secluded Temple on Raxus Prime."

 

"At this point, that is all I can say. Our numbers grow and dwindle with time, only a few battle hardened warriors remain to fight the battles to come for the Sith now. Although, from the few, I expect you'll find some potential."

 

He began to turn himself around, pushing on his heel as he slowly slid back to facing him one last time, "May the Force serve you well."

 

The phrase always stuck with him after John had used it occassions, always reminded of him slightly whenever he said it. With that last comment, the young man strode off into the dark corridors, expanding his senses throughout the Temple in search for that he wished to seek out..

 

Along a flight of stairs and down a series of platforms, there was a rather concealed room where what remained of the alchemic supplies. Vials, texts, and unique tools alike were alotted together in whatever large container he could find. After stripping the room of every item and packing into a large metallic bin with padding all around the interior to keep any of the more fragile items from breaking, he retraced his steps back up to the higher reaches of the Temple.

 

Whew.. I never imagined there were so many things, but I'm sure it will be all worth it.

 

Soon enough, he'd find himself in the hangar bay, opening up the back compartment to his A-Wing procured from Raxus Prime and placed the large bin inside. Securing it firm and shutting the hatch down tight, within a matter of minutes he'd be inside the cockpit, arranging take off procedures before blasting off high into the atmosphere..

[Yue]

Yue was asleep when a word echoed though his dream, Malutros. Yue awoke and knew that was the battle ground. He made his way to the armory and found his weapons for the battle. He loaded two blasters, a set of thermal and concussion grenades, two vibroknifes, and one thermal charge into his new legs. The charge was for one last bam if the need a rised. For armor he put on two arm gaunlets and one reinforced blaster plate. It would stop some blaster bolts and take a hit form normal weapons. He attached two hand flame throwers, a trick from Trowa. For the last items he took one vibro sword that immitated a light saber and two vibro short swords that immatied the short sabers he was using before the soul split.

 

Yue now left the room a bit heavier, but ready for hell and then some. He walked to the hangar and took a simple transport ship to the battle ground.

[Dagon]

::Receiving word that the imperial shipyards were under attack, Dagon grabbed a nearby officer and gave him very important instructions.::

 

Locate storage crate B6418616SGS5 and load it onto a civilian ship and send it to Mon Calamari. When the team reachs the surface, have them dump the device and deploy it. When the mission is complete return for debriefing.

 

::A civilian ship loaded with a special cargo departs for Mon Calamari as Dagon leaves for Naboo, sending a message to his contacts on Falleen to send more slaves. He had work to do.::

[Exodus]

"The path you tread is that of blood and war and prophecy. Many dangers lie ahead. Many tribulations lurk in darkness. Sin threads through the tapestry of life. Vice winds its way within the hearts of men and mer. A wicked shadow looms ever closer. Will you stand to take the fight or flee in hasty flight? Choose wisely."

 

The mysterious voice began fading as his eyelids flickered open. Deep, dark eyes were muddled and clouded at first. His moisturized, hulking body heaved up and down in an orderly fashion. Hoarse breaths exhausted into the air before him, feeling his evolved instincts creeping its way back into his disposition. It was as if a divinity itself was hollowed out from the depths of a dilute planet and plastered against the cold, rugged texture of the medical bed beneath him. His once white-faded color surrounding his iris now became an entirely swamped emerald hue, pin-pointed with the sharpened ”“ obsidian irises captured within.

 

Before any such movement was made; before any form of comprehension was allowed. Exodus sighed with a sound of grievance, partly due to the fact that his body was not able to sustain the drastic, inhumane pull that drew out his body for an unsuspected amount of time during the slight skirmish issued forth. That of course was understandable, and his efforts were awarded in his own frame of mind if not anything else, still, more weighed on his mind ”“ more importantly the circumstances of having a ”˜daughter'. His only liberty was right here and now, mending on a simple slab of metal, allowing his intuition to take its normal course.

 

”œNurgle”¦”

[Ason Antilles]

Ason's steps hit the unyielding floor with echoes that resounded throughout the establishment. The sounds of sabers had stopped and he had seen men being rushed to a part of the academy that he had not yet explored. It was strange how these people scurried about with such vitality, which was far different from the inactive lifestyle of his friends back on Tatooine. Back there, on that forsaken sand planet, there seemed to be a general lull of laziness that infected everyone who stepped on the burning grains of sand to those that slithered on their bellies across the scummy floors of cantinas and skiffs.

 

As he wandered the halls, the thoughts of that planet entered his mind once again for the first times after leaving that behind. It seemed so distant now that it couldn't touch him, as though these memories were from a story of someone else's life that he had heard, or a special that he'd seen on the holonet about a tragedy that had occurred in someone's life that was worthy of being publicly displayed in front of thousands of strangers from various different planets who couldn't even grasp anything you said, none to comprehend the true meaning of what you were going through. Yet memories had a strange way of taking such things and giving them the vitality of senses, to the point where you do more than just see and hear the story. You feel it.

 

---

It was an incredibly boring day as Ason rested in the coc-pit of his the Z-95 headhunter, steering it through the blackened void toward a destination that had seemed to elude him for the longest time: Cardia. Everything that he had left back on Bespin seemed so small to him now, like the galaxy would be no different had any of it happened or not at all. Yet now, coming out of hyperspace around his second waypoint along the journey to the sith academy, he looked to the deserted planet before him.

 

It looked to be a waste of space in the grand scheme of things, and was only known for being the home of Luke and Anakin Skywalker for the most part. If not for them, it wouldn't have had any value to it's name rather than the fact that it is one place where low-lifes and no-goods came and went from cantina to cantina looking for a job. It was a small nexus for smugglers of all shapes and sizes, and the variety would be quite overwhelming had Ason not seen so much of it on his path so far. As he maneuvered the fighter toward the planet, he saw the orb grow in his vision until it seemed like he could practically see the sandstorms below, the massive winds picking up the grains and hurling them at random areas toward random people doing random things. Then suddenly, he was in that sphere, becoming a part of it along with all the other inhabitants and unfortunate visitors such as himself. As he looked up, he saw not space, but he saw the blue sky overhead which was nearly covered by the sand.

 

Ason descended to the surface and landed right outside of the popular town of Mos Eisley. It was a bustling city with jawas, rontu, droids, and every other thing that you could possibly think of meandering down the streets without a known reason or purpose. Most of them were getting from a workplace to a home, yet some had much less honest intentions in mind”¦

 

The man exited the ship, and as he did such, he activated all the proper security protocols that would protect his ship from theft. After a quick drink in a local cantina and rushing to eat some food, he returned to the spot where he had landed, only to find a vacant space with nothing there. His hands ran through the air, as if searching for some invisible object that was slipping through his fingers, trying to rationalize the situation by simply denying reality and turning instead to hopes and wishes that it had not happened to him. Ason was a fighter, he was hard enough to take anything that these people could throw at him, and that mindset is what made him believe that he could protect the ship. Yet, evidently, he hadn't thought about it being stolen while he was away”¦

 

---

 

The images faded away, back into the oblivion from which they came. The man stepped into a training room, intent on finding some way to take his mind off of such pitiful things as dwelling on things that couldn't be changed or learned from. All that he had gotten out of it would be that he would have to become more powerful, more aware of a way to fully protect not just himself, but everything worth protecting, yet at the same time having the freedom to do so only for himself, not bound by the servant-like ways of the jedi”¦

 

Hopefully this place will be my salvation.

[Darth Mortis Diabolus]

DMD's apprentice was still in deep meditation, when he returned. The courtyard had become very still and quiet. A light fog had settled into the area, making the view slightly obscured.

 

It wasn't long before Tarrian emerged through the door way. He could sense the eagerness in her. She walked over and stood in front of him. "Well, now lets get started...", she said. DMD reached up to his collar, to undo his crimson cape. He allowed it fall to ground, then assumed a defensive stance. "This is your lesson lady Tarrian, so I reccomend that you attack me. And......please don't hold back."

[Rahalin Toral II]

Rahalin landed his ship on a pad that bore the scorchmarks of a thousand such landings. He exitted the ship to the eager whispers of the shadows of his mind. He secured the ship against any intruders and walked away from the platform. Seeing no one to greet him, he walked away from the platform, his weapons loose in his very holsters.

 

The whispers were excited and terrified at the same time. Their very tone caused him to revert to his natural traits and find the shadows that disguised him so well. He stood waritly, suddenly away that for all his skills as an assassin (which were doubtful considering he recent failure) that here was environment where the weak were not wanted, either those of body or of mind.

 

A shudder of excitement coursed through his mind at the pleasures he would receive from culling the weak when it came to be his turn. The voices chorused their pleasure at such thoughts grandly.

[Enigmatic]

"Revan.."

 

His name was whispered to him by a familiar voice, a voice he knew cleary, voice of evil and corruption.

 

"Revan.."

 

His name was called again, more determined this time around. Revan seemed to be in the medical area, his body strung across the bed, but his mind elsewhere.

 

"Revan.."

 

His name was called, over and over again..by the same voice. Trying to answer, words could not erupt from his mouth, only dry air seeped out, replacing them.

 

"Revan...you have chosen the path of the sith, the path to glory and salvation. I can feel your hatred and anger fill your soul, your body, your spirit. The foolish Jedi you once were is now gone, and from now on, you will be referred to as Darth Revan. You will now recited this code, it must be implanted into your soul, living by it, you will find prosperity and become a true, proud sith."

 

Peace is a lie

There is only passion

Through passion I gain strength

Through strength I gain power

Through power I gain victory

Through victory my chains are broken

The Force shall set me free

 

The code echoed throughout his mind, slowly fading out as he started to begin to feel pain in his chest. It felt as though his lungs and ribs were peing pulled, ready to burst from his body. If anyone was watching in the medical wing, it would look as though he was in extreme pain, as though having a siezure. Flames soon started to grow inside of him, slowly and gradually burning the inside of his body. Now unfortunatly trapped inside his own hellish nightmare, unable to wake up, he was now placed before a dark figure, a familar figure at that.

 

His head began to swirl, images of death and screaming circling his mind as though trying to escape. He could feel his body undergoing extreme changes, and sanity was slowly leaving his body, replacing it with torture and suffering. Graphic and explicit images flashed before him, images of Jedi Master HJP being cruxified by the dark lord himself, screaming in agony as his body was lit on fire, Revan began to feel his agony, as though it was being transfered from his soul to Revan's.

 

All the gruesome moments and thoughts from KR was now flashing before Revan, slowly reverting peace inside his body to anger. Revan no long had control over his thoughts, his mind, and his body. All his thoughts and decisions for the remainder of the time were in the hands of KR himself. Everything he learned as a Jedi felt as though it was being ripped from him, then leaving a mental scar. The only thing that remained in his body was anger, doubt, and hatred.

 

"You hate the Jedi..."

 

The cold, dark voice rang again, speaking into Revan's mind.

 

"You despise the Jedi.."

 

Revan began to scream in aganoy, the pain becoming overwhelming. In his nightmare, his body was burning from the inside, the inside of his head was being crushed, and his head was slowly inploding. He dropped to his knees, holding his head, yelling for it to stop.

 

"You will Kill the Jedi!!"

 

Revan could no longer withstand it, and just as he was about to give up, the pain stopped, and his body no longer was burning, his chest felt normal, and the visions and massive headaches halted. However, instead of him waking up, an illusion came before him, and he was now standing up, safe from the gruesome thoughts and images. However, he was in front of the Jedi Temple, a cloak draped over him, and a crimson blade ignited in his hand...

Edited February 9, 2006 by Guest

[Guest]

Piro woke up and suited up. He then left the tample and jumped into his ship The Black Hawk II and entered hypersapce for Maltauros.

[Yoshiba]

The Lenra slowly drifeted down to the landing pad of the sith academy, and was quickly take to the ship hanger by his CIS battle droid, while he walked to the front door of the temple.

 

The sence of eurgency that he was feeling, came from inside, so he stepped into the god-forsaken temple. He peered around at the young hopefuls that were sitting around, and feeling a strong disgust for them all.

 

How could he expect any of them to fill the task he wanted to fill...

 

He continued to walk the corridors of the Sith Academy, with low expectations of all he saw.

[Oblivion]

-- Comm. Link from Naboo (Sender: Tethyn Valor) --

 

"Yes," There was no holoimaging of the young man's image, rather just his voice and a few noises towards the end as the ship he sent the message from began procedures to take off, "This is Tethyn Valor requesting this message be briefed by the highest officals of the Sith Order."

 

"A Jedi has been located upon Naboo, one that I have felt before, by the name of Fynn.. if my memory serves correctly. His presence has deemed a threat upon the operations by my Master, Ahrimen. See to that the Dark Lord himself is aware of this and that the operations will be diverted to the planet of Kamino."

 

"That is all," With a quick shut, his thumb left the comm link control just as the rear boosters began to take full form and lift the ship off into the atmosphere without another word.

 

--- End Comm. Link ---

[Enigmatic]

It was a dark time for the Ex-Jedi, a dark aura surrounded his body, his soul, his heart. He turned his head to the side, eying the crimson blade beside him, the scent of death already filling his nostrils as though he had already taken life. With a smirk upon his face, he reached into his cloak, soon pulling out a metallic unknown object. Setting it to his side, he started his death walk, up the long set of stairs, each step springing a memory from when he was a padawan, walking up these stairs to become a jedi, now he walks up them to become a Sith. The crimson blade followed at his side, and the more memories that found themselves in his thoughts, the tighter he gripped the saber, fuleing his hatred.

 

Revan found himself standing in front of the temple, the large doors the only thing stopping him now from slaughtering them aimlessly. He no longer had control of his actions, control was replaced with aimless hatred and anger. From his point of view, the Jedi abandoned him, left him there like a helpless rodent. His master...just the mere thought of him crushed his insides. He was like a father, someone to look up to, to go to when he needed an answer. But he left him too, leaving Revan alone, soon being picked up and consumed by hatred and darkness. It was obvious that Revan still obtained a concious, a tear running down his face as he walked towards the doors.

 

"So it begins..."

 

Revan whispered to himself, using the force to swing the doors open, his hood just covering his eyes. Moving forwards, there were Jedi crowded everywhere along the temple, moving about their business. He scowled with a disgusting face, eyeing them down like pathetic beings. Monstrosity was all that filled his body, insanity was all he relied on. Although there was a hint of remorse, he tucked it away, trying to cover it with darkness. One of the Jedi soon noticed him standing there, the crimson blade ignited.

 

"Si-Sith!, He is here!"

 

Without hesitation, the Jedi reacted, leaping towards Revan, his blue blade igniting in the air. As soon as was in range, Revan ignited the hidden blade in his hand, and ducked under the surprised Jedi, cutting his gut open as he collapsed. It was then when Revan noticed the blue and green blades light up the room. Continuing his walk, two Jedi came before him, swinging their blades at his body. Using his right blade to parry one to the left, his left cutting the legs of the Jedi as he ducked. Swinging around, Revan used the force to lift the off balanced Jedi into the air, throwing him across the room and into other anxious Jedi.

 

The more the Jedi attacked him, the more anger filled his mind, the burning sensation filling his chest once more. However, instead of opposing it, he let it flow through him, enabling it to move throughout his body. The Jedi crowded him, two crimson blades swinging around with immense ferocity, limbs of defending Jedi flying into the air around them. Collapsing like domino's, Revan only infuriated himself more, increasing his effort. Revan was so caught up in his anger, he found himself soon facing a youngling, a padawan of young age. The young one decided to fight, igniting his green blade before Revan.

 

The youngling soon found himself running towards the Sith, his blade crashing down at the head of Revan. Stepping to the left, Revan kicked the back of the Padawan as he soared to the ground. Using this oppurtunity, Revan summoned the younglings lightsaber into his hand, stripping the young jedi of his only weapon. He obviously had little to no knowledge of the force, therefore he had no defense. Lifting his hand, Revan levitated the boy, pulling the padawan towards him. Smirking, Revan began to turn away, making it look as though he was sparing the young boy. However, when the young one began to drop to his feet, Revan swiftly turned around, slicing the neck of the Youngling, his head rolling to the floor, his body now completely lifeless.

 

Revan's eyes widened, as though in shock of his own actions. The pain in his chest began to burst with pain, as though the Jedi inside of him was dying. However, for some odd reason, he could feel his concious become stronger, fighting the hatred inside of him. Although this occured, he remembered what the Jedi lacked, what they hadn't done for Revan. He wasn't able to get their attention, slowly becoming corrupted to the darkside, the Jedi were oblivious to his actions, to his feelings, his thoughts. He continued his slaughter, three willing and brave Jedi swinging their lightsabers towards him. One was apprently a Knight, for he attempted to use his force abilities upon Revan.

 

Failing miserably, Revan flipped into the air, using the element of surprise against the Jedi. Moving around behind him, Revan moved fowards, sticking his crimson blade directly through the back of the Jedi. Dropping his lightsaber, the Jedi collapsed to his knees, life seeping out of him every second the blade remained inside of him. Pulling it out, Revan looked to the other two, fear showing on their faces. Moving towards them, Revan used the force to throw the right one into the wall, knocking the wind out of him. The other one went for a swing to Revan's head, the green blade crashing down towards him. Using the saber in his left hand, Revan put it up horizantly, halting the saber in the air. Using the saber in his right hand, Revan sliced the leg of the Jedi off, the leg severed as it slid across the marble floor.

 

As the Jedi collapsed, the other one, that was supposidey knocked out, came running behind Revan, trying to catch him off guard. Sensing it, Revan turned around, the Jedi walking directly into Revan's crimson saber, the blade sticking out of his back. The Jedi attemped one last gasp for breathe before falling to his death. Turning around, he pushed his saber down, sticking directly into the one legged Jedi's chest, immediatly dying a few seconds later. Another tear seemed to have made its way from Revan's eye, sliding down his face as he turned to face the mass pile of corpses that filled the Temple.

 

The Jedi inside of him began to hurt, the pain soon reaching Revan's chest as he collapsed to one knee. Redeeming himself, he slowly got up, turning around, remembering his hatred for the Jedi. However, he was soon halted by an unimaginable figure ahead of him. Revan completely went into shock, his thoughts, and body freezing up like water to ice. He couldn't move, the crimson blades ignited at his side, the buzzing sound echoing the temple. Revan squinted his eyes, trying to get a more clear view of who it was that was standing in front of him. Searching his feelings, he was sure in the back of his mind on who it was.

 

"Nom....Nom Anorus.."

 

Revan mumbled to himself, loud enough for the figure to hear and soon reply after him.

 

"So there is the Jedi I once knew still inside that corrupted soul.."

 

Revan was halted by such naive words, unable to speak from the emotion that filled his body, overlapping the anger. He soon became confused on what his further actions should be, he knew what he had to do, but the question still remained, could he do it...

 

"What has happened to you Revan? What have you allowed to enter your heart? What have you allowed to corrupt your mind?"

 

The thoughts of his master leaving him played a significant role in this part, that memory just now erupting in his mind, the sight of his previous master bringing it upon his thoughts once more.

 

"You..You left me..there alone. I..I had no one else to turn to.."

 

The one known as Nom Anorus shook his head in disbelief, in sadness.

 

"I thought you could handle it...I thought you were strong enough to block the darkness out of your mind. I thought y--"

 

"You thought nothing!, Obviously you weren't thinking when you left me, and now you will pay.."

 

Revan lifted both his sabers into the air, crossing them as an "X". He scowled towards Nom, preparing himself for something he thought he could never do.

 

"Revan...don't do this, you can still move away from the hatred, you still have a chance!"

 

Revan smiled upon the determined Master, saying his laster words before his attempt to end the life of his old mentor...

 

"You are decieved of feelings that do not exist anymore. The Jedi you once knew is gone, It is too late for me now, as it is for your survival.."

 

Nom looked down, showing that he was hurt inside, broken hearted as he then nodded his head, looking to Revan.

 

"Then so be it...I cannot let you destroy peace...I will do what I must, my young padawan"

 

Revan was apalled at his last words "Young Padawan". He had let himself become corrupted by the sith to get away from those types of phrases. He would be soon known as Darth Revan, a Dark Lord Of The Sith, not a young padawan as he used to be so long ago. Nom's green blade ignited before Revan, the Sith soon throwing himself at the Jedi Master, his blades swinging vigoursly throughout the air, the sound of all three blades crashing against eachother.

 

Revan spinned around, the green blade amazingly blocking each of Revan's attacks. However, this time around, Revan was no longer forced to hide, and control his anger. Releasing it upon the master, Nom was soon becoming overwhelmed at the furious attacks Revan dished out to him. The Jedi Master was not used to fighting Revan with so much anger and ferocity, but like he said, he was no longer fighting Revan...

 

"You underestimate me...Master"

 

Revan said sarcastically as he beat the Jedi master back, the Jedi's feet slowly moving backwards towards the corner of the wall. Revan swung his right foot up for the head of Nom, soon being ducked the by experienced, yet naive and oblivious Jedi Master. As Nom recovered from the duck, Revan used the force, pushing it towards Nom with all his might. Forutnately, Nom was thrown back off balance, crashing his back into the corner of the wall. Revan moved towards him, swinging his blades downwards for the final move, however, nom was able to halt the blades with his saber, holding the blades in the air with extreme effort. As determined as Nom was, he slowly started to push Revan to the side, slamming Revan into the wall.

 

Nom pushed harder on the sabers, the two crimson blades moving closer to Revan's face. As Revan looked deeply into the eyes of Nom, he began to fully realize the true power of the Sith, feeling somewhat of a slight sense of anger deeply inside Nom. Releasing his last drop of hatred, Revan pushed up, Nom's saber erupted into the air above him, however, still in Nom's hands. Using this oppurtunity to strike Nom's exposed body, Revan swung his left foot, connecting with the left side of Nom. The Jedi master fell to the right, hitting the wall hard as his body bounced off it from the impact. And as soon as Nom bounced off the wall, Revan injected his saber directly into the chest of Nom, sticking it in all the way as the top of the saber's handle halted against Nom's chest.

 

Another tear ran down Revan's face as he looked into the eyes of his dying Mentor, and before Revan broke down in emotion, he quickly pulled the saber out, swinging around, and with his second saber, lodging the head off of the Master as it flew into the rest of the corpses piled upon the temple floors. Deactivating his saber, the Jedi left in him felt as though he had died, right there when the life flew out of Nom's body. Revan soon collapsed to his knees, unable to control his emotions any longer. Tears began to roll down his face, confusion filling his clouded mind. The pain becoming unbearable in his chest, his soul burning as though being burned into the darkness, into the evil. His pain and thoughts were soon halted by an immense white light that filled his mind, blinding him, as though sending his mind back into the endless nightmare...

[Drake Ferral]

Strapping his new weapon on his back as he walked into the academy he smiled time to teach another young one in the ways of the sith.

 

Walking up he saw one trying to hide in the shadows using the force he softly read his mind finding out his name and his purpose. Walking behind him he lifted him up into the air with the force and towed him towards his ship.

 

"hello Rahalin Toral II you are now my apprentice in the ways of the force. I am taking you to a planet far from here that you have never heard of.... it is called Nespis 8 there you will recieve your training."

 

Shoving him in one of the seat he closed the ship's door and walked to the cockpit and headed to nespis 8.

 

 

((OOC: Hey Rahalin I'm your new master I'll train you then send you out to wreack havoc upon the world))

[Rahalin Toral II]

Rahalin's mental companions went silent for a moment in the face of the intrusion by the Sith Lord. Rahalin allowed himself a brief moment of dark amusement at the antics of his master. He relaxed his mind and body as he was towed effortlessy through the air, conserving energy in the face of what was an obviously superior opponent yet outwardly alert for any threat, whether from his new master or from the decidedly deadly environment around them. The chorus resumed its sibilant whispering in his mind, apparently feeding on the hatred burning in Rahalin's heart and in outrage at the mental intrusion he had so weakly let happen. Two new fonts of hatred opened in his heart, one for his own weakness, and one for the effortless way his thoughts had been violated by his new master. That hatred eventually became focussed on the man whom claimed he would train him in the ways of the Sith.

 

As the ship's canopy closed over him, the voices sang a jubilant song and once again gave voices to their promises of power. The stars beckoned and Rahalin knew for a moment the hatred his mental companions felt to their light. Their hatred washed over his sould in a black tide and soon he shared their hatred, feeding his desire to serve the darkness and extinguish all hope from the galaxy.

[Ason Antilles]

The acolyte stood in the spacious cube, eyes shifting constantly toward the sallow beryl walls around him. The emptiness of the room was shown in exquisite clear brilliance staring down through metallic panels on the ceiling with refulgent white light, every ray visible to the naked eye with ease. The bare walls moved outward a bit as Ason stepped in, as though they were spreading out in fear of contact with the man. With the door he had walked through closing, the only indication of such being the sibilance of the gears and mechanisms, he found himself alone in the bright room, impatiently anticipating the coming training session.

 

The slight breeze blew through the small crevices in the tiled wall on the far end of the now rectangular room, designed to vent in air to prevent suffocation without the expense of having to create vents to run through this room. Such vents would only distract from the true masterful design, and unbeknownst to the human that stood in the room, there was truly no room when the rotating tiles figured into the picture. In the middle of the room stood a slender metallic pole, standing perfectly erect and ending four feet above the ground. Resting idly on the pole laid a deep cobalt orb, reflecting the image of Ason's dirty blonde hair and deep features in front of the backdrop of the room, a glare shining on the top of it where the lighting struck it.

 

As the man approached, the faint churning of electrical gears moving around the room could be heard, and a translucent blue image sprung forth from it. The lighting dimmed a bit, allowing slight contrast between the light hologram that had appeared and easing the acolytes eyes from the constant stress of the lighting. Now able to see it clearly, it was easy to make out the four images that appeared: a B-1 battle droid, a destroyer droid, a B-2 battle droid, and the IG-100. Underneath the four ever moving displays of each droid, there was a word that struck the man as familiar.

 

”¦Bane”¦

 

The reputation of the infamous dark lord was well known to Ason, and it was quite an appropriate sighting to find at some place such as the academy. Within a few seconds, the word and the visions of the droids dissipated into nothing as the metal pole receded into the ground beneath him. As if the tandem of mechanical devices operating in the room were all of one accord, two rotating panels showed their opposite side to the pale interior of the room, revealing the tan exterior of some figure. The return of the light surged and blurred the hazy vision of the sentient, not allowing him a decent view of the being that was attached to the wall tile that turned around. Perhaps these walls held secrets behind them more elusive than could be estimated”¦

 

As the pupils in the pale emerald eyes of the man adjusted to the sudden resurgence of the light, they began to view the figure stretch out various limbs and drop out of place to the hard ground below, knees not bending an inch at the impact. The sound of the robotic movements could be faintly heard, yet they were apparent, and suddenly some things started to connect and hold in Ason's mind.

 

With time as a luxury, the two bare hands of the man drifted to the comfortable hilts of his two vibroswords, extremities wrapping gently around them as they were unsheathed to greet the light from above, and soon to greet the metal circuitry that ran through the temporary foe of the acolyte. The near weightless blades that he wielded were light as air, void of gravity's influence on their mass almost as a result of timeless work that went into the crafting of such an elegant weapon.

 

A fruit of my labor, and soon to be the demise of this enemy.

 

As the thin neck inclined upward to snap into alignment with the rest of it's mechanical spine, the droid stood holding a standard blaster rifle that Ason couldn't particularly identify by just sight, yet it was evident that the make wouldn't really matter, for there was enough to be taken care of without technicalities such as equipment. A flurry of red energy burst forth with a blipping sound from the ebony tip of the weapon, flying out of his hip and toward the man's body.

 

With a quick twirl, blades tucked inward and supported by resting their flats upon his abdominals, his loose clothing swayed and danced around the deadly energy as they landed on the wall opposite the droid. The whirling was an ebullient viciousness that would've instilled dizziness in any mere being, yet the honed senses of the veteran swordsman could not be affected. Instead, the spin grew faster and faster, the man ever intent on the rotating images around him, and the droid that flashed in and out of view during the maneuver. Shot after shot rang out, yet the rapid movement was a perfectly executed evasive maneuver that dodged everyone while moving ever closer to the creature.

 

Had this battle been in closer quarters, it would've already ended due to the preferences of melee rather than close-ranged weaponry of the man. However, the spacious room was designed so that the challenges inside would be heightened to the maximum that could exist within reasonable knowledge of what existed in the realm of possibility and barely avoiding landing on the thin line of assisted suicide. The use of live ammunition added to the dangers, and Ason swerved in and out of the way of the fire, guided by his expertise in combat and intuition.

 

Within moments, the droid viewed the battle-hardened acolyte within a few meters away from him, close enough to take in every feature of the oncoming torrent of energy. In kind, Ason saw every detail in the way of his victory in this portion of this exercise, and it allowed him to stop and steady himself to the point. This pause lasted a millisecond at most to the eye, and a blur launched itself at the droid in a flawless transition from the spinning stage into a pouncing predator, metal blade flying from the heavens and then descending downward toward the droid before him.

 

Mercy is not an option”¦

 

The thought crossed his mind as the sharpness of the blade clanged hard against the frame of the droid, slicing one of the arms clean off of the body with a buzz. Sparks flew from the torn away circuitry and the last bolt of laser left the tip of the gun before it fell to the floor, useless as it fell to the ground and became quiescent. The now latent firing had given way for the only noise in the room to be the other sword that had swung around, ever vibrating with life, that cut the droid in half from the head straight to the abdomen. Although it lacked the power to slice past the pelvis to completely half the droid, it was enough to shut down the programming and render all functions of the droid latent.

 

A soft crash could be heard as the bulk of the droid collapse on the floor to forever remain dormant now that it had tasted defeat. The exercise had been somewhat challenging, but it would not be over. There had to be something more than just one obstacle. Life was not so simple, so he expected that neither would this exercise be. A small, quiet whisper left the lips of the man and entered into the empty air as Ason looked behind him.

 

”

[Menthu]

It had taken seven transport shuttles as well as a little threating but he had finally made his way back here. From here he would be able to regroup before fixiating on a target and focusing his rage and vengence upon it. He had a list if you will of people he need to speak to and or kill. However right now he would simply go get some rest. Finding an old training room he sat down in a corner with the saftey of his blaster off.

[Ason Antilles]

The lights dimmed their glow a bit on the pale viridian ground as the droid had become nothing more than a useless piece of scrap metal. This signaled a small smirk to fall onto the expression of Ason, one of victory and triumph, but nothing more would he allow himself, for the exercise was far from over. The thought was affirmed by the constant churning of gears, never ceasing. Apparently, this room was not done with him, and neither was the acolyte done with the obstacles that he welcomed with open arms, both of them bearing weapons.

 

As the man looked back toward the tiled walls, feeling the cool air become frigid icy fingers as they found their way to the sweat that had begun to manifest in a crown below his hair, he began to notice that the actions he had just taken had fatigued his body far more so than he could've ever anticipated. The high amount of shearing encumbrance had made each of his movements slightly heavier, every step he took felt as though he were trudging through an imaginary force. It didn't even leave him when he stood still, applying a relentless pressure that wouldn't give him rest nor any tranquil pause, and this training room would follow suit.

 

The tile that Ason had focused on was completely of random selection, bearing no anomalistical markings to distinguish it from any others of it's kind. However, there was something contrastive about it, unique and distinctive in a sense that the acolyte couldn't quite fathom at the moment. Yet now he settled on the explanation that it was an abnormal danger sense that he seemed to possess, one that bore with it the advantage of awareness on a incommensurable scale.

 

The tile slowly turned around, revealing the cerulean framing of a figure huddled into the smallest form conceivable, defying anything that one could assume knowing the range of motion in the joints and sockets of a sentient body. There was but one conclusion to come to at that moment, and the swordsman settled that it was a safe assumption to make that it was undoubtedly the correct one: that this being that seemed to adhere to the tile as an adhesive was the more deadly predecessor of the B-1 battle droid”¦

 

A B-2”¦

 

The paler emerald optical spheres implanted in the man's face met the same tone as the walls around him, blending perfectly and effortlessly with the surroundings. The acolyte was coupled with the room until finally they were of one accord, bound by forces unknown to him. Yet at the same time, they were partitioned as their melded bond was torn asunder yet maintained at the same time. The best explanation that the walking demon could conjure was that his body had already decided to battle to the outermost limits of physical possibility, and as such he began an unparalleled transformation that began to reach for the corners of human potential.

 

The droid before him unraveled all of the limbs it possessed, falling to the ground with a clanging sound much harder than that of the B-1, caused by a more dense material that added to a larger gross weight than that of the skinny droid frame. Still, the creature before him would fall to the depths of Cardia as had the antecedent had just moments before”¦ if you could call the spiritless, machine-driven mass of parts a creature. It lacked true sentience, yet it was much more regaling to feel as though you were taking the life of a conscious being that a mere droid.

 

Now the bulk of the droid stood up, perfectly straight before the acolyte as in defiance of the fate that it was inevitably bound to. However, under further visual inspection, a large maroon line could be seen tracing a trail across the neck-less trunk of the droid. Extended arms revealed massive forearms, electricity coursing through the giant pincer-like extensions in the form of occasional flashes. The sight of it would've taken a lesser man aback, yet dauntless acolyte would not be struck by such a base feeling as intimidation, a nugatory nuisance in it's essence.

 

”

[Darth Mortis Diabolus]

Tarrian's first attack was sloppy and undisciplined. She ran at him with her fists clenched, then threw three straight jabs followed by a left hook. The three jabs were the easiest to avoid. DMD dodged from left to right, his head bobbing effortlessly out of the way. The surprise was the left hook she threw. If he had not stepped back at the last minute, she would have connected with the right side of his jaw. As the wind form her punch blew past his face he could tell that there was strength behind it. So much so, that the punch left her temporaily off balance. DMD took advantage of it, grabbing her uniform and pulling down on it, causing her to stumble forward. She quickly regained her footing and countered by trying to kick DMD between his legs. He thrusts his knees together, successfully blocking the kick and locking her foot between his knees. She tried to pull her foot away, while hopping on one leg and trying to stay balanced. He twists his legs to the right, jerking Tarrian the same direction, causing her to fall flat on her stomach. During her fall, he releases his hold on her foot, so that when she fell, her ankle would not be severly bruised or broken.

 

"Uhhhhhh!" Tarrian said, as she lay there on the hard ground, beating her fist against the dirt. She turned over to find DMD standing over her with his arms crossed, while shaking his head. "Your technique is flawed, m'lady. Think about it like marksmanship. You always want to aim for center mass. There is more to hit and greater chance of striking your opponent," he said while watching her stand and dust herself off.

 

His comment on her fighting seemed to perturb her. But he felt sugar coating something as serious as combat was beneath him. But as a teacher, he knew there had to be positive reinforcement for her to learn anything.

 

"I applaud your tenacity. When you attacked me, you fought me close. That was correct. Fighting an opponent from a distance shows fear and uncertainty, in yourself and in the arts of combat you choose to master. You should never show weakness to your enemy. The psychological effect of fighting is just as important as the physical," DMD said.

 

He threw up his hands, assuming an offensive stance. Across from him, Tarrian put up her guard, assuming an offensive stance of her own. His thoughts focused on the fight ahead of him.....though there was something else. Something elusive. There was a feeling of familiarity about the temple. It stood out in the temple. There was light in the valley of shadow. It was not very bright, but it stood out in his mind like a beacon.

 

A picture flashed in his mind. The hangar in the Jedi temple. The Jedi that he fought and impaled with his Sith sword........Aryian Darkfire

 

He knew it wasn't him he was feeling. This was someone new. Perhaps a former master or student?

[Yoshiba]

Yoshiba got a com from his CIS droid that was standing watch at his base on Nespis 8, the com was quickly decrypted, and projected form the com-link.

 

The droid told Yoshiba that there was a new creature on the planet with Drake Ferral. he got the feeling that there were going to be more to show, the feeling that he had gotten from this planet did nto seem as important as the task at hand, he had to take care of things on Nespis 8.

 

He quickly spun around and headed towards his ship, hopped aboard and headed out of the atmosphere.

[Orik Bendan]

((Sorry. Wrong account.))

[Ason Antilles]

what semblance of their bipedal structure was left intact laying on the ground in an inanimate equivalent of shame and dishonor, brought upon them solely by the blades of a mere student in the ways of the dark arts. No, this one who had felled them had not even been a student, for he had received no training or knowledge to have learned, thus making him not more than a man in the eyes of the galaxy. Yes, these two machines, created for the sole reason of bringing about waves of death upon their enemies, had become nothing more than toys to the man.

 

The oppressive light from above once again dimmed with the completion of the last task, simultaneously falling down a level of light as the hulking mass of the grappler droid plunged into it's final resting place on the ground of the training room, until the maintenance droids would undoubtedly remove the mechanical carcass from the ground and into a scrap heap, where maybe it could be salvaged for future use. All of this was of no matter to Ason though, for his mind was focused on more immediate tasks that called to his attention a threat greater than the grappler or the B-1 had ever posed to a man such as he.

 

The roaring tumult of pride and accomplishment combined with the stridency of the realization that such an consummation as the completion of the entire exercise has eluded him to create a mental discord in the mind of the fighter as he was torn between what he had just done and concentrating on what he had yet to do, not sure whether this miniscule egotism that had begun to develop was justified or rather if it was just a hollow attempt of repletion to conjure up some sense of self-esteem that wasn't deserved over such a little thing.

 

I'll have to worry about this later”¦

 

Now there was a familiar tone penetrating the voices in Ason's head, cutting through the words with a deafening click that resounded throughout the acoustically unsound chamber in which he stood. It was the same clicking noise that signaled that a tile had completed it's full revolution, and now stood opposite and reversed from where it had once been placed among the throng of identical squares that surrounded it, a sea of conformity to only have 3 abnormalities at the moment, belonging to two tiles that had once held the two combatants that lay on the ground, and now one the held one to soon test itself against the might of the warrior.

 

The clouded form of an opaque silver frame appeared bundled together, connected to the wall as the others had been that had came and went before it. First two arms detached from the heap of metal and threw themselves out toward the wall in defiance, mass still clinging to the wall. The face lit up with a crimson illumination as two vermillion orbs fluttered to life with a penetrating glare that could've easily pierced right through the man's skin and crawled under it, yet that was far from a possibility where a nonpareil such as the sith acolyte was concerned.

 

The two silver hands pressed themselves up against the beryl tiles, sockets never straying from their position fixed on the warrior. Then, with applied pressure, the droid pushed itself down from off the tile and landed to the floor with a dissonant discordance that boomed throughout the chamber, clanging metal resounding and ringing in the ears of the fearless man who stood looking at the now crouching being that would soon attempt to kill him. There had been truth to the visions that he had seen from the holographic orb, that this foe would be come to him and he would have to defeat it.

 

I will strike this creature to the floor, less he be lonely in the realm of the standing.

 

The IG-100 Magnaguard that stood before him bore not the traditional Kaleesh garb that the bodyguards of Grievous had worn, yet he bore no clothing to humanize his appearance at all. In fact, it looked as though the appearance was all the more despondent and detached from any sense of familiarity that it was hard to imagine the machine doing anything but killing. Fortunately for the designers, that is exactly what it was designed to do, and it carried out it's mission with an acute precision that only a droid such as that could muster.

 

The abhorrence that stood before him held within it's grasp nothing at all for the first moments on the floor, laying there with a head pointed upwards to stare through the combatant. Yet as it rose from the idle position, it produced an object that was at first somewhat foreign to the sight of the man until the focus of his eyes sought past the obscurity of the drop of saturation that had begun it's descent to the ground off the sturdy wisps of his eye-lashes. Flowing tentacles of violet energy danced around the tips of the staff, calling out to the acolyte with a taunt as the droid spun the weapon around only to bring it to a completely stiff position across from the shoulder to the waist.

 

This being then set forth on an epic charge, every mechanical part executing the awkward mechanical movements with an inhuman meticulousness. The electro-staff, glowing energy visible as it scattered itself around the phrik, came down in a colossal chop that buzzed through the air and sent the metal crashing down onto the blades that Ason held in his hands, which were now placed in an x that caught the staff in the intersection of the cortosis-weaved weapons. Calling from some unknown force, the warrior wasn't plowed over by the power of the mechanical joints that continuously backed him down further and further to the ground, electricity coming nearer and nearer to his face as it grew in his eyes to the point where the reflection of the brilliant fangs of light eclipsed the iris of the man, now a thin ashen jade circle traced the an elliptical border around the weapon.

 

Within a mere nanosecond, the pressure of the staff shifted so that now the bottom half, which was previously drifting to the floor while the two were engaged in a lock, came storming upwards toward the acolyte's body. Executing a back flip, arms spread outwards so that the weight of the swords would balance, Ason barely evaded the blow that could've ended the entire exercise in an instant.

 

I will not fail”¦

 

The man stood up with his swords placed in opposition of each-other, one in front and one in back. The weapon which held to the forefront was waving slightly in an enticing motion, as if to lure prey into their certain death while it readied itself for attack, while the other stayed back in defense, ready to block whatever could be thrown at him with compartmentalized movements to make sure that the arms worked in independence of themselves for maximum efficiency. After many years on Bespin with his family and learning the art of swordplay, Ason had acquired various different ways to perfect his form. Now that he learned to wield two blades, he figured that now he would become twice as deadly if he could perfect the art, which he had.

 

The droid wasn't phased by the acrobatic feat, yet some internal analysis was being taken of the maneuver. The entire sequence of movement that had just occurred was held under scrutiny by the programming of the droid, and then calculated for any information that could be grasped about the man's strength and his prowess in battle in order to better the chance of killing him. This is the quality that made them invaluable to the Separatist movement, giving them the envied position of being the bodyguards to one of the more deadly figures in the history of the galaxy.

 

Now the droid leaped in a similar manner, only holding back his blade a bit to give any split-second time to be left open to reaction in case Ason used an acrobatic roll or flip such as he had just done. However, this time the swordsman was ready, lashing out a quick horizontal poke with his right and keeping his off-hand weapon at the ready in case the creature decided to twirl around and attack any exposed part of his body. Fortunately for him, there wasn't an inch to be found on his figure that wasn't able to be blocked by the weapon, so when the staff stopped at the poke to slow down and then came crashing down in a diagonal slice, the man spun his body in a hurricane of movement that ended with the staff being blocked by one sword, and the other cleanly severing one arm of the droid. It fell to the ground in a clatter, which was followed by the other arm falling to a similar path.

 

The stubs of ripped metal were all that the creature could call it's arms now, a two-limbed creature still unable to accept defeat. However, the choice was not it's to make as the two vibrosword embedded themselves into the droids head and chest, splitting all photoreceptors that remained in the foe and signaled the victory and triumph of the acolyte.

 

”

[Mikey]

The most feared ship in the Hourset system, the Sith Slave dropped out of hyperspace and entered Cardia's atmosphere, landing on a platform in front of the academy. The pilot leaves the ship and uses Force Speed to get to the door. Stopping, he senses how powerful the dark side is here, seeing is how the entire academy is filled with Sith and Sith-in-training.

 

So this is the famed Konigreich des Teufels-Sith Academy, quite impressive, I must say.

 

He waits patiently at the door, waiting for someone to let him in.

Edited February 20, 2006 by Guest