Mechis III

[Torin]

Atia... The loud scream burst through the Force connecting with Atia's feelings and thoughts. Immediately the presence of her former master, Torin, was projected upon her mind. She would now know he was alive, and something within the simple message would pass on the knowledge that Torin was now safe, but apparently severly wounded.

 

The last thing the simple message would inform her of was that he was thinking of her...

[Malicious Intent]

Atia had been walking the cold durasteel halls of Mechis III when it hit her. The familiar resonance of her former master grew from a subtle whisper to a scream, speaking only her name. She fell to her knees, the sound almost unbearable.

 

He's alive. His blood isn't on my hands.

 

She stood, walking in the general direction of Mittsu.

 

He's in pain, and not the good kind. I have to go.

 

She found Mittsu. He'd had also been seeking her out. His implants were working well, but the swelling was evident. He should be resting. His persistence and endurance made an impression on her, but that was far from her mind.

 

"We leave for Cardia. Follow me."

 

She walked the empty halls in silence, Mittsu not far behind. They boarded the shuttle and left.

 

Why was I the one he called out to?

 

Stupid girl...

[Ason Antilles]

Project Apocalypse Phase 1: Complete

 

Frame completed.

 

Transferring resources to defense production.

 

Immediately, several booby traps were placed around the building, each one mechanical in nature. A wall that would launch zenji needles, collapsible ceilings, a few trap doors to spiky ends, and disruptor sentries began manifesting themselves around the place. Quite nifty.

[Balance]

Milenko's stolen ship came out of hyperspace into Mechis III's orbit, the young Sith Acolyte's piercing turquoise gaze meeting that of the mechanical jewel that was known as Mechis III. A chaotic grin crept across his face as the future 'god' of creation slowly lingered into Mechis's upper atmosphere. Meeting little but sure resistance on the way down, communications went out left and right to identify the young human as a Sith hopeful merely meeting his future Master upon it's maniacal surface.

 

Once he was approved for landing, Milenko disembarked the ship, his gaze shifting from left to right as he viewed his surrounding with much potential, a gigantic play pen for the young one to have as much fun as he should see fit to have. Such was a place he had always dreamt about. "Ahahahaha!" Milenko's feminine voice cackled into the air, his maniacal laughter echoing like lightning as it bounced about. "So this is Mechis III? Interesting indeed."

 

Wrapping his black cloak around his form, he lowered his head and marched on. Keeping his hands upon the whip and blade that laid clipped to his hips, he wondered in search of his first victim to fall, hoping their death would please his future Master so. Onward he would march, death's melody being the only thing dancing upon his mind and heart. Oh how he loved his life so.

[Guest]

::The freighter landed after hours of boring hyperspace travel. He traveled with a small shipment of supplies because it was cheap and it was one of the few transports heading for the planet. It was the end of the school year, and Baal decided after a couple years of teaching he should take some time off to explore the galaxy. He told the administrators of the college that he was going to write a paper on the intricacies of the Sith. With the recent Imperial takeover of Coruscant, they felt it would make a good impression on their new leaders if they put out papers praising them, so they complied to his request and gave him a small sum of credits to complete his work. In reality the trip was more for him than the paper. He could have sat at his desk and written a fantastic piece that would have swayed the hearts of all of Coruscant. It was for his own personal curiosity that he chose to roam the galaxy. There were a plethora of questions that had popped in his head through his research that the books couldn't answer. He had settled upon Mechis III for a couple reasons. Primarily because it was a Sith occupied planet known for it's industrialism. The fact that the planet produced anything other than war machines was enough of a perplexity to mark it first on his list. He walked on the cold durasteel gangway to the docks, the metallic echo reaching his ears validating the lifelessness of the planet.::

 

As I anticipated. Not very accommodating.

[Balance]

After just a few moments of walking through the metallic infrastructure that was Mechis III, the future 'Lord of Evolution' soon found himself indulging in a bit of fun. With spikes of a slow death flinging themselves toward him, and the crushing power of a faster death falling upon him, one could consider his type of fun a bit suicidal. But that was for those who did not know of Milenko, because for those who did, they would know this was true fun for one such as himself.

 

The closer the breath of death encompassed Milenko's neck, the more fun it would become. It was the Sith Acolyte's way of learning, his way of being taught, his way of evolving. And no other could look upon death like a brother such as Milenko did, death's comforting embrace merely one of the simplest pleasures one with life could ever feel. Or at least, for Milenko it was this way. Taking a deep breath, while basking in said one's embrace after clearing one ledge to another, to what some considered a safe position, Milenko sighed.

 

"T'is a shame. I would have thought to have more fun on this planet while i await my Master." Milenko said to himself as he wiped a bead of sweet from upon his brow. "Ah, well, those with flesh produce a better challenge anyways."

 

Making his way on, the Sith Acolyte soon caught a glimpse of what could indeed even bring more fun into his life. The man (Baal) was a good bit of distance away, but still, he looked as if he would present himself to be quite a challenge. Slipping into his sister's embrace, Milenko became one with the shadows, his darkest of cloaks hiding all but the white of his eyes as he moved ever closer to the awaiting challenge. Though little did he know of the displeasure he would be granted once he arrived for a closer look.

 

But a few clicks away Milenko stopped and crouched, still hidden for the most part within his dear sister's embrace as he caught a better view of his 'prey'. A loud maniacal giggle turned laughter erupted from the 'Lord's' undisclosed location, his laughter echoing from all locations as a wooden crate full of spare parts barely missed the unsuspecting man, one half of his sword buried in it's side. Hopping down from his perch back into the light a mere distance away, Milenko, still crazed by laughter, managed a wink as his gaze met that of the man's. "Whoops...." He said, bringing a hand to his lips. "I missed."

 

((Sorry for such a short post... but this stinking internet of mine erased the seven paragraph one i had written up. And just incase your wondering Baal, no, i'm not dueling you just yet. That's for our trials. Consider this a bit of foreplay if you will.))

[Guest]

::The day had proven to be rather dull. Not only had there been complications in finding a place to stay, but the authorities were giving him more than required trouble over his travel visa. It had taken him an hour of explaining and strenuous calls to his boss to verify that he was not a spy of the Alliance. Even then they watched him closely. On top of that, most of the factories were closed from public eye, and there were no tours, so each visit to any facility took a call to set up a tour. He was counting his blessings as he sat down to eat his packed lunch when the sound of a feminine giggle, turned to a full blown laughter. His hands fell from his mouth in time to watch a sword fly by his face, landing in the crate beside him.::

 

Whoops...I missed.

 

::He took the time to wrap up his sandwich and replaced it in the postman bag. Baal stood and withdrew the sword from the crate.::

 

Missed? Hardly.

 

::He turned the sword in the light, admiring the craftsmanship. Baal had always enjoyed the aesthetic work put into weapons. He found trying to bring beauty to death was a funny concept. He twisted the handle, separating the two halves to hold a half in each hand.::

 

Perhaps it was just our combined destinies that made the blade miss. Or maybe your skill at throwing a weapon made for hand to hand combat is horrible. Though I'd have to say that wouldn't necessarily be through any fault of your own. It is, after all, a rather obscure application of the weapon.

 

::Baal looked up to see Milenko staring blankly back at him.::

 

Oh. Listen to me, lecturing on, and me supposed to be on vacation. I suppose you threw this to kill me then. If you're trying to rob me, I'll warn you I'm a professor. I'm actually very poor. And if you're simply trying to kill me, you've had a poor start by arming me.

[Balance]

Stepping forward as graceful as a feline, Milenko's feet barely pitter pattering a sound with each step, the Acolyte watching closely as the Professor casually re-packed his lunch. Milenko flittered with glee at this notion, becoming ever more intrigued by the 'prey' that stood at his front. Perhaps he would present a better challange than Milenko had hoped for, and even possibly, grant Milenko the right to bath in his blood. It mattered not, for at the very least, Milenko would get a chance to really have some fun.

 

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. I am truly sorry if i have disappointed you, Professor" Milenko said as he shifted the veil which hid his true identity, letting Baal gaze upon his turquoise eyes and a partial of his child like face. "Next time i am in class, i'll pay more attention.... yes?"

 

Milenko may have been at a disadvantage at the moment, but this is where the biggest portion of his thrills came from. Basking in the presence of his 'chosen' family, was Milenko's true carnival. Brother Death, Mother Fear, Sister Shadow, Father Darkness, those were his true family. Those elements were indeed the perfect formula for Milenko's power.

 

"Perhaps i shouldn't have armed you... This is true. But what can we do about it now." Milenko spoke as his voice changed from a playful tone to a more twisted grasp of tones. " Hmmm?"

 

Milenko's hand snaked out to his front as he gripped and tossed the cloak that hid his form aside, his femininity showing extremely well now. Dress from head to toe in a leather-ish form of robes, Milenko merely giggling as he threw his hair to the side and gave off a rather cheerful smile. His hand crept down and graced it's presence on the leather whip that hung on his hip, it's unraveling stretching midway between them as his gaze went from the whip back to Baal's.

 

With a pop of the whip's tip, Milenko chuckled once more and bowed femininely. "May i have this dance?"

[Guest]

::There was some degree of confusion in the air. The being before him had inclinations towards the physical features of a man, but the contradiction of it's voice left Baal puzzled. And the whip wasn't exactly known to be a weapon used by men. Baal could only look on with a look of amusement.::

 

Seriously, Miss. If you want to kill me, make your move. I'm hungry and you're interrupting my lunch.

[Torin]

Two ships appeared above Mechis III, one with a pilot and one without. Security codes were passed through computers and the two ships were allowed to progress towards the surface.

 

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Deep underground attendants layed the young human male out on a table and began operations on his brain. They began by drilling a hole into the back of his neck, being careful not to damage any spinal or nerve systems. This operation would allow the young male to be inserted into the Sith training construct, but would also give him unique abilities once he was released from his master's play ground. He would possess the tools necessary to store his thoughts and personality in a safe place and he would be able to access computer systems by slicing into them with his mind. These tasks would not be as simple as one, two, three, but given time and practice would be useful to the human when or if he was released from this place.

 

On a table opposite the apprentice, Torin Thard shared the experience, having the same apparatus built into his own mind. The placement of his mask and his new cybernetics had changed Torin slightly. Before Piccolo and Artus, Torin was evil, but the metal now incorporated into his physical being made him even more so because it seperated him from the organic natural races of the galaxy. He had no hesitation about adding more mechanical parts to his body. Slowly, steadily, Torin's evil deeds and their consequences were ripping the life out of him. At the time, feeling the physician's scaple slice into his neck without any form of anathesia, Torin had never felt more alive, but steadily life was being sucked from his bones.

 

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The operation was a success. Torin and his apprentice now sat in a room, both in chairs, both with large cords protruding from their necks. Their minds were being copied onto the system's mainframe and the apprentice was being drawn into the training construct.

 

An attendant approached Torin and pulled the cord from his brain. His red eyes flickered to life. It was finished. All of his memories, knowledge, and personality were now saved. He rose from the chair and looked over at the apprentice.

 

"Leave him there. I'll return to claim him eventually."

 

Torin pulled his hood back over his head and walked out of the dungeons, shoving the small sacrafical children out of his way as he went.

[Skarr]

The broken whim of a man commanded his vessel to cut into the atmosphere reminiscent of fire to tissue. The shell plummeted hard into the atmosphere and with a speed that was no doubt crucial to the life inside. In split seconds, the vessel slowed and then rocketed into ground zero near the manifest of the established base. For minutes, there was silence and a ship that burned in threat of explosion. The cockpit shifted and tore off its hinges; a titan rose from the smolder and flexed his considerable skeletal structure. Muscles upon muscles revealed themselves all over his chest; the man was defined in all natures of the word. Daelonius was his name, and from the confines of his broken down transport he pulled an irreconcilable war hammer from the wreck and attached it to the weapon case on his back.

 

The memo he received was to this place and he was sure of it, Daelonius wasn't mistaken. The black of his hood raised above his head as his cursive plated gauntlets willed it so. The chains that suspended from his waist bustled with noise and indicated that he had arrived. There was not much else that could be done from this standpoint as the Sith were a people to be cautious of, especially when it came to their battlegrounds and as so, he waited.

[Umbra Riin]

Is a person entitled to a second chance? Does that person need an explanation of what he did or what he should do? Some times questions have no answers. Sometimes the purpose of questions are not meant to be answered. But no questions could explain the man who stood patiently on the windless planet of Mechis III. A blank stare from the strangers mask looked vastly out towards the sky that could be seen from the clouds. No one could ever tell what expressions he wore under it besides him. The smell of burnt metal and oil filled the air and the silence gave pleasure into the mans heart, or what was left of it. He had seen and done things that were unforgivable to even the devil himself. He wondered why he was still alive some times, and tried to keep things behind him. But even tragedies that no one wishes to talk about are still put in text books.

 

He stepped forward and carried onward towards the factory. His cloak followed him like a dancer and his armor clanged against the ground like a machine on the mechanical planet. He did not move like a normal being. He walked as if he carried a heavy burden upon on his shoulders that was unconquerable to keep from being seen. What did he carry? That was only for him to know and no one else. The man had no objectives but to only seek why he was called here. Only time could tell and fate could make the decision.

[Balance]

The menace that t'was Milenko grew puzzled toward the man's words. Was the man as blind as he was foolish? That remained to be decided, as Milenko stepped forward, his mere presence on the verge of consuming the man's threshold. He t'was no woman, that much was certain, his femininity merely a gift of the maniacal madman the laid within. But to end one's life when there was so much pleasure to withdraw from within a slow death, that just wasn't Milenko.

 

"Now where's the fun in that?" Milenko spoke, his words rolling from his silvery forked tounge with the echos of Hell's deepest pits. Stepping ever so closer, the whip's end snaking ever so gracefully behind, Milenko smiled. "Truly, i am sorry to have disturbed your former engagements, but this cannot wait."

 

Milenko's body lunged forward, his woman like body providing just enough flexibility and speed that her attack would roll in upon Baal like the waves of the ocean pounding upon the shores. The whips shredding embrace swooped in low, it's terriable grasp urging for blood and flesh as it wrapped it's terrible tendrils around Baal's lone foot. A pleasurable grin creeps upon the Acolyte's face as he yanks upon the whips handle, attempting to knock Baal off balance.

 

"I figuared he would be more of a challenge" Milenko's thoughts stir with the disturbed cage called his mind. The Acolyte sprung forward again, this time placing his soft touch upon Mechis's metallic soul as he found his way into a spin, aiming his curled toes towards Baal's chest. "Aww, your no fun at all." He spoke, his attack obviously missing it's mark.

 

Milenko took pleasure in one's pain, even if it be his own. But when none was endured, his child like tendencies came forth. "Hmph!" Milenko grunted aloud, slamming his foot down in a fit. "This will never do."

 

Milenko squinted his eyes, his form falling down upon one knee. He smirked, his playful touch grasping two durasteel surprises as he pushed off with his lazed leg to return to his risen state. The throwing stars sprung forth like winged creatures from a magician's cape, taking their sparkling but deadly gaze upon Baal. "What is one to do?"

[Guest]

::Combat was not Baal's forte exactly. He had been trained to defend himself in hand to hand engagements, and had learned to fire a blaster if necessary, but beyond that he was lost. Weapons like swords and whips were beyond him to tell the truth. When the graceful figure moved his arm, Baal could only speculate where the blow would come from. Acting upon instinct more than training, he held the swords at arms length and spread somewhat apart, providing maximum defense for his upper half from a whip. When the tendril like weapon wrapped around his leg, he was lost, just barely able to hold his balance as the fiend tried to take it from him. Then, another swift blow attempted to strike him in the chest. This time, the assailants own ill aim that saved him. The stranger continued to toy with him, as a cat would a mouse, acting disappointed as a child would when they didn't get their way.

 

Now there was some distance between the two. A mental sigh of relief rang through his head as he planed some sort of counter. In the brief respite, Baal found himself bleeding. Knowledge of the wound struck him before the pain did. Maybe it was because he caught a reflection of the light from the ill lit room coming at him, or maybe the sheer adrenaline of it all had caused his tolerance for pain to advance beyond his standards. Regardless, he now found a small star shaped piece of metal in his left thigh, a small trickle of blood validating it's penetration. Baal grunted near silently and dropped the twin blades, taking a knee to alleviate the pressure on his left leg. He didn't dare pull the star out. From the looks of the other blades on it, it looked like it would come out smoothly, causing no more damage to the muscles. However with the withdrawal of the blade, allowed a lot more blood to leave his body than he wanted. As long as he kept his movement to a minimum, the damage would be low. Right now, it appeared to only be a flesh wound, though a painful one at that.::

 

::He looked up with an undeserved calm and spoke soft:: What happened to keeping this a close quarters match? Ah, no bother. ::With matched grace and speed, Baal reached inside the folds of his customary black teaching robes, reveling a blaster. He squeezed off a few well grouped shots as he scrambled to take cover behind the very crate the sword had buried itself in.::

[Torin]

Torin sat meditating in the quiet darkness of an isolated room within the Sith facility. His powers had grown significantly from his days spent in training with Sirvani. He could feel the Force flowing through and around him as if immersed in water. His hatred boiled and spewed from his soul tainting the energy in the room. His will spread like a dark cloud through a perfectly blue sky, blocking out the light and casting shadow upon the land. Fear had become his ally, in both spiritual and physical senses. He scanned the helm which had been attached to his body. This moment of isolation was the first alloted to him since being equipped with his new face and he intended to use it to explore his new features.

 

It was a dark weapon that had been given to him. The metals were twisted and tainted by the Dark Lord's hand just as Torin's own soul had been charred black by the powers of the darkside. The appearance would strike fear into all those who looked upon him. Revealing such a wretched site in battle would demoralize the champions of good. Torin delighted in these facts, but he also knew that more was requried of him. Fear was his ally, but more than a physical presence would be required. Nothing surpassed his potential with the Force. No power could overcome his aggression while the Force stood at his side to be used as he desired.

 

What then when the Force is removed?

 

Yes, the Force had disappeared during his greatest moments of need. In battle he had tried his best to ignore the attack and improvise. His powers ran deeper than the Force alone, but without it he was weaponless.

 

The slug.

 

The animal the bounty hunter had carried with him was the source of their power. Torin knew this to be true. It was a topic that would require more research, but his thoughts were not allowed to linger on this for long. Another had entered into the realm. Another that Torin could feel the connection to. It was the same as when he had first me Oblivion but not understood the calling. This time he could hear its voice.

 

Two in such a short time? Why am I the one given this responsibility?

 

He had not joined the Sith to teach. He had technically not willingly joined the Sith. He was taken, taught, and then joined. These breeds that came seeking his attention and the glory of the Sith were different.

 

Will this one be worthy?

 

He seriously doubted, but the calling would nag him and never cease until he answered. He pulled his hood over his hideous features and left the solitude of the darkness.

 

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Steam and smoke billowed from the wreckage. The fire raged forth and from its effects came the ominous voice of the one forged by the fires of Kamino at the hand of Oblivion.

 

"State your purpose."

 

Torin's form melted into the plumes of smoke and ash. He virtually disappeared from the scene, but his presence would be felt. His dark hatred penetrated the man standing on the outskirts of the crash site. He found the weaknesses and fears that lurked inside the being but resisted the urge to tamper with him.

 

This one's potential is far greater than the other's. Perhaps he will be worthy of my time, but what is that unique stench that lurks around his thoughts and feelings? Is it the Jedi? Torin had never himself been close enough to the Jedi to truly feel the extent of their uniqueness, but he knew his own scent and calculated that Jedi must be the exact opposite. This one carried that difference with him.

[Bad karma]

Without even a hint of approach, there is suddenly a woman that is much shorter then the enigmatic man ((Umbra Riin)) walking next to him. She is clad in loose robes, designed to hide her features as she moves quietly aside him, his destination seeming to be some factory in the distance.

 

”œThey say this planet is full of brutality and ire; have you come here to create suffering, or to be the one suffering?”

[Umbra Riin]

The man continued walking knowingly that the woman was with him. With his eyes set on the factory through his mask and his hands clutched on the sides of his waste, he pushed his pace faster to a certain extent. He was once like her, a member of the Sith. But it was odd that he didn't sense her from afar. He had forgotten everything”¦.

 

”œ I know what you are and if you're here to lecture me about the force, then you are wasting your time. If you have answers for me then say so.”

[Bad karma]

The man was blunt, demanding even, but he had no right to be. Arrogance without even a smidgen of a base was arrogance at its worse. Perhaps this one was indeed meant to be her next apprentice, but was he meant to be a passing amusement or would he prove to actual have some sort of worth. Rare was the apprentice that could live up to her standards and prove worthy of being taught the deeper secrets of the force.

 

She waved her hand dismissively at him and with that single motion he was lifted from his feet and pinned to the nearest wall. She calmly approached him, her features still obfuscated beneath the folds of her robes and the hood over her head.

 

”œAnswers? You must ask questions to receive answers. If you know what I am, then please”¦do tell me.”

[Umbra Riin]

The man did not struggle. He accepted that he was pin and smiled deeply under mask. He forgot what it was like to be controlled with the force. The thoughts of his past ran through his mind but he kept them tucked with in his memories. He did not wish for anyone to know his dark secret. He would let it out when the time was right. He looked up and gazed at the cloaked woman and spoke ever so softly.

 

"You are Sith."

 

No more did he say. He didn't want to irritate the woman more then he already had with his rudeness. But this was expected from him, he had no feelings for anything but him self.

[Bad karma]

Acceptance. Not many would accept being pinned down. She would expect an aggressive person to try and struggle and fight their way out, a cunning figure to attempt to smooth talk her...but acceptance? He peeked her curiosity.

 

"Then you do not know me. I assume you come here to join the Dark Cult, but what makes you worthy? What separates you from the rest of the Galaxy and makes you worthy of learning how to tap into the limitless resources of the force?"

[Umbra Riin]

The man smirked, which turned into a chuckle. His chuckle then formed into a laugh. And by that time he was hysterically laughing. His mind was now unfastened.

 

”œWhat makes me different?! Hahahahah!! I have seen more then you know girl. Far more. I've walked amongst gods and have been cast down to walk among demons. I've been respected and then spitted on . Oh yes. I am different from many who walk among this galaxy.”

[Bad karma]

Speaking with those wishing to come into the order never ceased to amuse her. He spoke as if he was some grand figure and acted as if she was a mere peon in this Galaxy. Perhaps he was not yet wise enough to realize that laughing in the face of the Dark Lord of the Sith was generally accepted as a disrespectful tactic at best.

 

"Your little tricks will do you no good, if I wish to release you it will be of my own accord. Mere sand will not break my concentration enough to release you."

 

She took a few steps forward, making a motion with her hand and sending him sliding forward a bit so that she could walk around him and look down on him as he was left on his knees

 

"You call me girl, certainly you are aware of how disrespectful that is."

 

She stopped and looked down at his mask, observing the craftsmanship for but a moment before continuing.

 

"You've walked among Gods and Demons alike? Surely you must be aware that you are in the presence of both at this very instant. Thus far you've proved not to be anything remotely close to an assist, rather you've been insolent and disrespectful in an extreme degree."

 

She lowered her hood to reveal her sky blue eyes, pallid complexion, and raven hair.

 

"Perhaps you can be molded into something useful, what that might be I am still unsure of. First, though, punishment is in order. Since you are unable to hold your tongue and spew nothing but worthless words I shall steal from you your ability to speak."

 

She extended her right hand and watched as the air was filled with frost, moving from her finger tips to his throat as his vocal cords were left completely frozen. He was rendered unable to speak for an indefinite amount of time.

 

"Now, on to business...Prove your loyalty to the order, so that your training might begin. Remove a part of your body that identifies who you are. Hair, eyes...I can't be bothered with caring what part, but make your choice and see that it is done with the utmost haste."

 

She produced a small dagger from her robes and tossed it down in front of him; it would be his tool.

[Umbra Riin]

Ignotus' smile was far to wide to be measured. He was pleased to figure out who she was.

 

So, she's the new Lord of the Sith. Much has changed.

 

He felt the icy chill inside his through, numb and bitter, and brushed it off as he looked down upon the dagger. Smirking, he picked the small knife up and thought for a moment or two. He knew what had to be done. He turned from her and removed his mask, making sure she could not see his face. He motioned the knife towards his mouth and began to remove his tongue. The spurs of blood and saliva gushed from his throat, some of the blood he even swallowed. The silent grunts of pain could still be heard from him.

 

When he finished, he placed his mask back on and turned back toward her. With his tongue in one hand and the blood knife in the other, he bowed and threw the dagger and his tongue at her feet. Unable to say anything at all now he stood glaring at her through his mask.

[Bad karma]

Dominique watched with mild curiosity as he turned his back on her, not the smartest thing but not a fatal mistake for the time being, and began to remove a part of his body as ordered. A thin smile crept onto her face when she looked down to see his tongue lying next to the Dagger she had given him. The mask he wore was odd, but she had seen much odder things before. If she truly wished to see what his face looked like, no mask would stop her.

 

”œGood. I assure you that your minuscule sacrifice here is much less then the last man that showed me disrespect had to offer up, though in time”¦perhaps you can travel the same path as he.”

[Ason Antilles]

A trio of talons loomed over the refuge of darkness and technology hanging in the infinite confines of space. While nondescript in comparison to many of the other orbs, this gem's value laid far deeper than aesthetics. Open arms of atmosphere embraced the descending predator as the sole pilot returned to his home, a place of infinite impossibilities and home to unfathomable demons. Subservient, soulless creatures maintained their steady workflow as they attended to the whim of their master and prepared for his entrances.

 

*hiss*

 

With minuscule bombinations sounding at the unfurling of the landing ramp, a creature adorned in an all consuming ebon made his way towards where he was being called. Progress on Coruscant's construction was being fed directly to him via the comms on this planet, filling screens wherever he walked with live footage of the processes being undergone there. Soon its taint would extend to the stars as indomitably as this one, but only through work would such a task be accomplished.

 

[EDIT]The area took all the alchemic ingredients acquired on Coruscant's raid and poured them into a massive batch of liquid durasteel. Currents of vermilion were dumped into the mixture as well as the sweat and flesh of the planet's fallen. As a result, the mixture began to turn an awful color, and Ason suffused the metal with all the anguish and tarnish of the materials until it became nearly impenetrable. It was then shipped toward Coruscant.[/EDIT]

 

Feeling the presence of confrontation more than that of two acolytes, Ason quickly departed from his activities in time to come between a crazed figure and a volley of crimson plasma. Two hands rapidly flew to the beams of scarlet, each one deflected harmlessly toward the canopy of the structure they were all in.

 

Following such, the Krath gripped both of them with the force and began the manipulation of their throats, the delicate tubes suffering a tremendous grip as their entire bodies surely felt the strain rattle them. Palpitations of energy manifested themselves in concussive spasms that sought to defuse the situation. Thoughts arose to their minds with the sudden surge of energy, the sith lord refusing to waste his breath.

 

If you want training”¦ ask for it. Don't kill each other needlessly. If you don't want training”¦ die.

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Also, the production of burrowing droids began and the frame of Project Apocalypse was placed in a private section of the hangar. Should one stumble upon it, they would soon find death.

 

Meanwhile, the droid labor force moved toward Coruscant while Mechis III kept the majority of the assault droids for protection.

 

Project Rebirth was being planned in the back of Ason's mind.

 

A secret art was being tapped into for the first time”¦

[Balance]

Flame and heat blew forth upon Milenko, the chastened red beams threatening his very existance on the verged edge that was life and death as he too paced himself toward any protection that came within his line of sight. The smell of burnt hair and leather encased their surroundings, the beams grazing both as he took sanctuary behind a nearby crate himself. Laughter thundered through the air as he placed him back upon the crate, his form slouched to hide it's self. Little did he know though, that another had joined them.

 

"Truly, i am sorry." Milenko spoke, pulling out three more of his stars as he readied yet another attack. "But it is a bit unfair when one has to face blades without one of his own." Milenko graced his appearance once more, exposing himself for what he thought to be a moment as he ducked outward to throw the stars in which he held ready. But something unexpected happened, his form being caught in mid-air as he withdrew himself from behind the crate.

 

An invisable hand snaked it's self around Milenko's throat, no form of defence capable of helping the said Acolyte as he hung losely above the ground. His air escaped, gargling and rasped breathing sounds following roughly behind their master. He smiled, feeling the cold embrace of mother death as he hung there, his eyes echoing of his dare. His smile changed forms, a slight chuckle erupting before it grew once again to a maniacal and hysterical cackle. His head shifted, allowing his gaze to meet that of the Sith Lords, his eyes still echoing the dare within.

 

"But what fun is there if death nor it's possibility are present." Milenko's words escaping through the rasped breathing. His stare was long and cold, though unwavering as his hand moved backwards, the durasteel stars still within his grasp. "It is what reminds you that you are mortal and alive." With the simple flick of the said wrist, the metallic demons took flight, the light sparkling clearly upon them as they flew with overwhelming speeds toward their target....the Sith Lord.

[Ason Antilles]

These metallic demons that were so carelessly thrown at the sith were a very poor choice for anyone in the position that this man was in. It was quite the simple ultimatum he had given them”¦ train or die”¦ and this womanish figure had chosen the latter apparently. A simple hand stopped the stars in mid flight.

 

 

With but the removal of the wraith's hand from the exposure of the air, the weapons dropped down to the floor with a clattering. There was potential in this one, yet Ason was a man of his word, and death was the penalty for trespassing this far into the academy. The fact that he had made it past some of the defenses was impressive, for those were designed to take down jedi, but they were merely being calibrated. Surely their designs would have to be slightly improved and surely such an easy route would not be taken again.

 

Withdrawing his own star from his pouch, the sith lord hurled it through the air and embedded it within the man. Intense hallucinations and agony would be the result of the red mist toxins that were released.

 

Before the boy could comprehend what was happening, the blood from his system was suddenly draining through his every pore. Scarlet tears ran down his face to join the massive nosebleed, which in turn joined the fountain of crimson that was pouring out of the creature's maw. Flesh paled until this man was merely bore the sallow resemblance of a corpse. Playing with the blood, Ason began manipulating it through the force. There was still barely enough in Milenko's system to keep him from death, and all the excess blood was beginning to congeal as it floated in the air until eventually a short sword was formed. It was then launched at the man, plunging itself into his chest.

 

And now ”œMother Death”

[Guest]

::Baal stood as the events around him unfolded. The figure in front of him was straight forward and lacked compassion for the wounded. Hiding would do him no good. He held the blaster tight as his former assailant was suspended in mid air. He continued to look onward, for some unknown reason composed as the sword struck true and took the life of the man he was recently trying to kill. As the figured turned to Baal, he made sure he was standing erect, replacing his blaster in the folds of his robe.::

 

I suppose I should thank you then. It's not everyday a Sith saves you.

 

::He made no attempt as showing it was a joke. He was actually rather surprised the man came when he did. He was obviously Sith by his commanding use of the force and contempt for sentient life. Baal looked on as the seconds before he spoke again came to a cripplingly slow pace. This was one of the few moments in a life where your decisions have insurmountable results, for good or bad.::

 

So when you offer training, I can only presume it is in the force. However, I'm afraid this will be an unfair exchange. Your knowledge is worth more than anything I have to offer. I'd be more than happy to study under you, but at what cost?

[Heero]

A nondescript ship descends upon the planet, cruising low until the pilot is able to ”˜lock onto' the location of the one he sought. His wounds have been treated as much as possible, but he would need to seek treatment on the surface of Mechis III after speaking with Ason. The ship touched down forty meters from Ason, another man, and the body of a fallen girl it seemed.

 

Heero wasted no time in exiting the ship and approaching Ason. He remained quiet, waiting to be addressed.

[DarthJudicar10]

The blue, indiscreet Jedi starfighter slipped through the atmosphere of Mechis III, then touched down onto what seemed to be a landing pad, although years of inattention had given it an ancient look. After a few moments of silence, the hatch sprung open, and out stepped a tall, thin human, wearing a customary black Jedi tunic. But this man was no Jedi. In fact, he was hardly a man at all.

 

Sixteen year old Alkan Tuju, now self-christened Darth Judicar, surveyed his surroundings, pondering recent events. In his mind, Judicar replayed the mission he had been on when this whole affair had started. How he had decided that, to save a local community, an innocent child, on whom a grenade had been permanently planted on, would have to die. His Master's disapproving words still resounded through Judicar's head. His last words. Judicar remembered the horror he had felt as he had slain his master, the frustration that his mentor just hadn't seen the truth as Alkan had. Then, the other Jedi Masters hurrying over to see what had happened. Their accusing words. You killed him, Alkan. Then, his response. My name is not Alkan. I am now...Judicar. Darth Judicar. How good it had felt to see the horror on their faces, as they saw what Alkan had become. He had fled then, stealing one of the stealth Jedi Starfighters the Masters had had. As he had flown into space, he had felt all was lost.

 

Until the holo had come through. A hooded figure had spoken, voice filled with dark malice. Judicar hadn't even been sure whether it had been a male or female. I have heard of your plight, young one. I have felt your power. I know what you you can become. Be at Mechis III in 48 standard hours if you wish to receive my power Who was this cryptic figure? What did he or she know of the dark side? And what did they want with Judicar? Perhaps, he thought, he or she is a real Sith. That person is perhaps angry at me for assuming the title of Sith myself. Maybe all they have to show me is death.

 

But, at this point, death didn't seem so bad. So Judicar waited, wondering if the factory noises would perhaps drown out the sound of an approaching ship...