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Nok froze as the sounds of a body crashing through the grass and snow shattered the silence. Hesitating only for a second, he raised himself up to his knees.

 

There, moving through the grass, the soldier's back. As if sensing his gaze, the form partially hidden in the grass stopped.

 

Nok began to creep forward, but he'd only moved one crawling step before the figure took off again, faster this time. Slowly, quietly, Nok drew out his hold-out blaster and raised it.

 

The soldier stopped, turned, and his eyes met Nok's. He raised his own blaster, an oversized BlasTech piece.

 

Oh kriff

 

The loud report of blaster fire rang through the air, but Nok wasn't looking at the shots. His legs pumped as he scrambled to the side, deep poks and sizzling snow sounding from where he'd just been.

 

POK. POK. POK. The shots were calm, rhythmic, like a machine's tick. A professional's shots.

 

Nok slid through the wet, cold snow and grass and hoped the soldier had lost track of him in the bru-

 

Something spun Nok around, flinging him onto his back. A red-hot stone had been buried in his shoulder, burrowing its way to the bone. Nok gritted his teeth, no thought beyond resisting the urge to scream. The overwhelming, demanding, insistent NEED to scream.

 

After a few moments or hours, Nok turned and looked at his shoulder. Where his noghri leathers should have been was a streak of blackened flesh. Not a direct hit then, just a graze.

 

Ow...

 

Nok breathed as shallow as he could while he waited for the pain to subside. He couldn't hear the soldier moving, and thank any god that existed he wasn't firing. Not that it mattered. There was no way Nok was going to sneak up on his with his back and shoulder as messed up as they were. And charging the soldier would be a fast way die but not much else. He scoured his brain for an idea, an edge, but he had nothing. He couldn't win in a blaster shoot-out, not with his little hold-out blaster against a trained commando. He couldn't get in close. He couldn't even call for help or run away or he'd just be shot again. Or he'd run right into one of the soldier's traps.

 

Why did he stop?

 

Nok blinked. The soldier had stopped, mid-run, crouching in the grass for a moment before moving again. At first, Nok had thought the soldier had heard him, but there was no way, and if he had why not shoot him then?

 

He set another trap.

 

He couldn't describe his certainty. It was like...the current of water that brushed against skin as something swam past him. A reflection in shattered glass. A deep hum, like some beast taking a minutes long breath. He had no clear picture, but he knew.

 

The Force? Or trauma induced hallucination?

 

Deep breath. In. Out.

 

Nok stood up, raising the hold-out blaster. Across the snowy field he saw the soldier, and their eyes met again. The soldier raised his own blaster as Nok aimed. But he didn't aim at the soldier. He grinned as he pointed the pistol at the rocky patch of ground between them.

 

Nok fired.

 

A stone skittered across the spot, and for a moment nothing happened. The soldier froze, a look of realization and horror on his face.

 

BOOM

 

Nok stumbled backwards as the shockwave and wall of heat pushed past him. Snow shot up into plumes of steam, and the patch of rock and grass ahead of him disappeared in a flash and column of smoke.

 

Reaching behind him, Nok's fingers found the switch for the vibrosword his soon-to-be master had lent him. He flicked it on, and let the ultra-sharp blade cut through the makeshift sheath, the expensive silks dissolving under the edge like the melted snow. Twisting his lips into a defiant sneer, Nok sprinted around the black pillar of ash. The silhouette of the soldier came into view.

 

Four years ago.

 

Nok spat blood as he rolled to his side. Above him, the noghri grinned mockingly, knuckles red.

 

"At some point, this stops being a lesson and just becomes sick fun for you." Nok's words slurred through his swollen jaw.

 

"Doesn't stop being a lesson until you kriffing learn it, right?" The noghri, Master Rakha wiped his hands on Nok's training clothes, leaving red streaks on the white fabric. "You're tall, so until you learn to stop getting in close to shorter guys when you swing, I'm going to keep massaging your jaw. Now get up. I want try something."

 

Nok was barely on his feet when Master Rakha slapped a long wooden stick into his hand. He had to resist the urge to rub his tingling palm in front of his instructor.

 

"I thought I said no swords."

 

"I know, I know. But seriously, with your height you'd have one hell of a reach."

 

"I can't exactly bring a sword with me into board room. Waste of time, and not what I'm paying you for."

 

"Humor me all right. Just do it once and maybe next time I'll hit the other side of your face."

 

"...Fine."

 

"Good. Now take the stance, draw back, and..."

 

Nok lunged, the humming tip of the sword sending spirals patterns through the roiling smoke. It wasn't a good lunge, Nok had never picked up the art of swordplay. But it was straight, and pointed right at the man's neck.

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Zalis lifted her right eyebrow in full on amusement yet smiled so warmly regardless of the unexpected and forced pull in tight. Her own posture changed to a more relaxed state upon realizing that Delta was doing this all for show. Upon his own release of her, she almost flat out giggled her words.

 

“You’re in good spirits. Wish you could offer me a drink that would make me feel that way.”

 

Without any hesitation, Zalis took off her coat and let it drop upon the floor of the ship. Upon doing so, it revealed her blaster at her side, along with two vibro daggers.

 

“You mentioned a war zone coming up. I want in. We had fun on Bothawui. I want to recreate that fun.”

Even as she said it, she moved herself close to him and gave him a slight ball tap before taking a step back and glancing at the deck officers, provided them with a wink that might have hinted she was an easy target to hit on. It would be rather unfortunate if they did try though, as she would remove parts from them that she was sure they enjoyed having. In regards to making credits, she had plenty of other options bringing in credits and she could work on them later. At least with this fun with the Imperial Remnant was an easy target from the sounds of it. It would keep her flexible for other needs.

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Camik raised an eyebrow as the messenger delivered the package to his master. They had not been on the planet long yet his master could still be found so easily. He watched as Oni opened the package isnspecting the contents. As his master picked up the holocron and instatanally went into a trance, Camik stepped forward to put himself between his Master and anyone that might be coming their way. He doubted he was needed but he was starting to improve himself, the last thing he needed was something to happen to his Master and he would have to go back to the academy.

 

As Oni came out of his trance, there seemed to be a range of emotions that flashed through his Master, but Camik remained slight letting his Master sort through them. As he did he announced that they were leaving, though they would be leaving in a way that would be nothing but training.

 

A smile crossed Camik’s face as Oni shot upward. ”It isn’t that I have my heart set on combat Master, I just wish to become stronger and much of this universe seems to only understand combat” Camik said, though he wasn’t sure if Oni had heard him. Reaching deep into the ocean of power that raged deep within him he filled his legs with the power and leaped after his Master.

 

His leap was not nearly as high nor as fast forcing Camik to utilize his claws and cling to the side of the wall before jumping again. As he followed his master he found he would have to jump twice or even three times for every one of his Masters jumps. Each jump he would try and focus on his form and trying to utilize as little of his own mussels and power and tried to use the force from them.

 

Briefly he wondered where they were going but as he started to ponder he found he really didn’t care. There was a simple joy in the simple act of teaching his body to act correctly.

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What happened next was all a blur for the soldier formerly known as J'boath Lorentz. He did not anticipate the Naimodians resolve or improvisation skills to be as effective as they were and did not expect such a counter. His ears rang as the shifted snow, plume of smoke and fire obscured his vision.

 

By the time the sword arrived it was too late, besides...he was hardly skilled with such a weapon. He did not expect the blade or the speed at which it came for him, yet unknown to the Naimodian the force aided his efforts. The pain he felt fuelling his godlike abilities.

 

Karys could feel it and elicited a small smile. It appeared there was perhaps a hope in him after all.

 

Nok's aim was sure and true, slicing the man from throat to torso in half just as the Massassi approached with a small contingent of troopers who had heard the commotion. They stayed back as the Sith Lord stepped forwards and observed the action, speaking only as the body hit the ground dead.

 

“Well done, it seems there is hope for you after all young Nok Morliss. Your pain gives you focus and strengthens your connection to the Dark, you demonstrated how effective it can be. Do you not feel this connection, this change? No matter. The life you lead is no longer, a new life begins for you...one of much hardship and pain but will shape and mold you into a god to some and an outcast and monster to others. Welcome to the Sith apprentice. Follow my words without question and you shall go far, betray us however and there will be nowhere you can hide. That said come, there is much work to do and little time.

 

We travel now to join the others. I have heard word from the troops we are again mobilizing...we move on Kuat and the Imperial Remnant. They shall pay dearly for choosing to side against us, which brings me to a question. You said you were a businessman...no doubt in that line of work you have made many contacts. I wonder do you have any on Kuat that may be of use? Tell me as we depart. I am currently also without a ship so transportation would be most welcomed. Keep the sword for now, you will need it until the time comes you craft a ligthsabre of your own with a crystal attuned to only you.”

https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

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 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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Delta produced a flask of amber coloured liquid, sickly sweet and 70 proof, it was a kind mixture developed during the short cycle R&R times the clone troopers got in order to get as happy and as drunk as possible. It usually only took the user on a ride of less than an hour, and with very little hangover, though there was always copious vomiting.

 

“Perhaps little lady we can party after we kriff that empress into the dirt.”

 

He laughed heartily and raised his arm, with a few button clicks the Assembled Black Sun fleet finished their formup and the joint fleet commanders were alerted.

 

“All hands, we make for Kuat, rendezvous will be along the trade route to Commenor.”

 

He signaled the Mad Hutt and his Sith Legions.

 

“My lord we strike now before the element of surprise is lost, I will see you on the battlefield.”

 

Together, the two leaders of the Black Sun boarded the Star Destroyer Mephistopheles and made for space.

 

Black Sun Combined Fleet.

 

2 Sith Kyber-class Star Destroyer Erdgeist and Mephistopheles

3 Victory II-class Star Destroyers Red Hussar, Silent Spring, and Sariel's Judgement

2 Modified CR-90 Corvettes The Marie and Hellespont

1 MC30c Cruiser St. Cathryne

1 Nebulon B Frigate Canto Bight Fiasco

1 Agave-class corvette Totenkopf II

1 CR90-class corvette Rhodes

 

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Ca'Aran

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The soldier collapsed to the ground, red spilling from his chest and into the snow. He looked...surprised. Not scared, or angry, or defiant. Just surprised. Nok had taken his life from him, ended the thousands of possibilities of what the man might have done, might have been. Nok had killed before, but it had always been planned in advance. He'd always had time to consider the fallout, to list who would be affected, who might want revenge, and who might take advantage. This killing was...sudden. In a way he'd never felt before, the universe shifted beneath him just a little. He'd lived, and the soldier died, and an infinite array of endings and beginnings had coalesced into one because of that.

 

Nok could sense everything. He was everything. The grass. The snow. The corpse. The sword in his hand and knives in their sheaths. He was a part of something that was a part of everything, and everything was a part of him. It all moved, and breathed, and churned in an endless expanse of black. An eternity within himself.

 

And he could control it.

 

Nok smiled. Credits, power, lives...they all were pieces of this greater whole. And he could take it all. Nok closed his eyes and raised his face to the sky. Ashes from the pillar of smoke landed on his face, and blew away in the soft breeze.

 

Nok's reverie was broken as Darth Akheron spoke. The connection he felt vanished, but the roiling power didn't. It settled, but it did not quiet.

 

My master, he realized.

 

"Pain...gives me focus," he said, repeating Darth Akheron while his brain struggled to find footing. "Yes...I can feel it. It's like the pain is...I can't describe it. Wind churning the sea inside of me. A storm."

 

Nok shook his head, dispelling the last of the heady fumes from his mind.

 

"Kuat...right, yes." Nok's mind raced as it snapped back to reality. "Yes...I do have contacts there. Invasion? That will affect...hmm..."

 

Nok snapped his fingers, as a dozen different pieces lined up in his head.

 

"We can take my ship. I've got permits to land on Kuat, and enough friends to ensure our time with customs is expedited. And as for your identity..."

 

Nok considered. Darth Akheron would likely have a file in the Remnant database, as would any Sith. But maybe...

 

"I have an identity I think you can borrow. Darius Jadeo, investor and financer of Free Stars Reporting and a couple other small ventures. Never seen in public, mostly just a name of some forms and bank accounts. I can have my people put together the rest of the identity on the way there. Darius should be just rich enough to not seem out of place on a ship like mine, but not so rich as to draw attention. Yes...I think this will work."

 

Nok looked up at Darth Akheron. His master.

 

He bowed.

 

"My master...if you will follow me."

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Atop the Palace, Oni stopped, jumping across toward a singular bastion and kneeling as he awaited his pupil. This would be where Camik would begin his formal training, a place that Oni had chosen specifically for its distance and purpose, a means of separating the two and teaching this lesson. But first, Camik needed to truly touch the Force. Not through battle, or through his emotions, but to truly touch it. Holding his hand up to stop Camik as he reached a position across from Oni, it was time.

 

"While it's true that you've touched the Force Camik, now is the time you learn to wield it." Oni spoke, his tone serious, yet tender as he remained kneeling. "Most of our brethren learn by action and reaction during battle and sparring, and while it works, it is slow and enduring. But what I'm about to teach you, although a faster, is deeper and enables more control. Sit."

 

Oni motioned Camik to sit upon the walk across from him, as he removed his mask and closed his eyes. "Do as I do. Close your eyes and clear your mind. Focus on your breathing and let your senses grow numb and quiet as you open yourself up to the Force." Oni did just as he spoke, clearing his mind and focusing himself on quieting his senses, a simple task for himself, but possibly challenging for his pupil. "Now reach out with your senses in the Force. Let it travel about you. Take in the smells and sounds that surround you, and then go farther. Let your mind drift away from us and out toward the city. Feel for the emotions of the everyday people.

 

As Camik did this, Oni studied the far off happenings around his old friend Aryian, and noticing another he had met once before, a sense of sadness entering his heart. Despite being on opposite sides, there was a sense of respect held for both. Returning to the task at hand, Oni turned his gaze within the Force back upon the Cathar. "Feel their pain, their hatred, their greed, their anguish, and feed upon it. Let it empower you."

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Camik was slightly out of breath by the time he reached his Master. He had pushed himself hard, at times forgetting to let the Force strengthen him. If he was honest with himself it was more of at times he would remember to let the Force strengthen him.

 

As Camik was beginning to realize, Oni was waiting for him like the past endurance run jumping over walls, was nothing but a walk in the park. It inspired Camik as well as made him a bit jealous.

 

As he caught his breath he had to keep telling himself that he was new and he would get better and stronger. If anything had been taught to him today it was he did not know nearly enough as he needed to be.

 

As he started to sit, at his Master's command, Camik asked a question. ”If this method is faster and gives a better connection to the force, why don’t more people use it? Action is great but if there is a better way it only makes sense to use it.”

 

No matter Oni’s response Camik would do as he is instructed. Camik cleared his mind of thoughts and reached out to the Force. As usual it was a torrent of power that wanted to wash over him. His instinct was to reach out and grab it. Wrestle control of it. Though this time he did not but instead pushed past it. It wasn’t the power he seeked but what lay past it. He reached out to his Masters emotions, he was the closet after all, and felt sadness. Why was he sad, had Camik done some wrong? Pushing those thoughts aside he reached out to the others around him in an ever widening circle, feeling the strong emotions that came off them and feed on those emotions. If they were to make him strong then he would devour them and use them as the food they were.

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  • =======================
    // Onderon, Edge of the Wall.
    //// DRAGONS' GATE
    =======================

 

 

  • The secret here was that, neither side could be defined with moral. There was no evil, and there was no good. Each side of the coin offered a taste of something more, but also demands that a price be paid. The Jedi offered security at the expense of liberty, while the powerful Sith offered liberty at the expense of security. It was order versus chaos, using the blinders of morals to cloud what was perceived as right or wrong. The reason, though, that neither side is meant to hold the crown of a moral good, is because the thing they take is not worth what is offered in either case. The Sith provided an infrastructure that held unparalled freedom but held the likelihood of a short life with a violent end. The craven Jedi held an unrelenting order of conduct, but sacrificed every inch of your humanity in doing so.

 

The hardened black leather he wore, embroidered with regal silk twines and gold smelted trinkets, stood out defiantly against the falling white of the winter skies. The lavish red cloak that was buckled atop his shoulders held a more emphatic flair, thrashing impassively against the bold wind, glorifying the meticulous Mark of the Spider drawn upon the thread. The groans and mumbles of the previously tranquilized crowd grew slowly, and would become more incessant now, fueled by an impatience that was masterfully tamed by the presence of the unopposed power of the Dark Lord. ".. Very well." The herd caught their next breath half-way in their throats when the sound of his voice tremored eerily, dismissively callous in tone. Exodus cut his eye from the craven Jedi, and shot a knowing stare towards his chief adviser instead. The mysterious man understood immediately, nodding before shuffling off towards the rear of the gallow. In less than the count of five, the unconditional crawl of the Force ushered forward and blanketed the barren execution stand. The powerful tidal push could be felt to the few who had already inherited a connection to it, and all of their senses would burn with a deeper conviction. The flames inside of the torches that aligned the podium flickered more fiercely now. Lord Exodus advanced forward, towards the wooden carapace with the heaviest of burdens mantled onto his broad shoulders. He carried them proudly, the sins of his choices, and the fruits of his labor.

 

"Onderonian whores scream the name better than you, little scorpion." Exodus rounded the wooden stairs to the podium with three graceful steps, then passing beside the one known as Scorpio, he leaned over to gather the oils. "You claim the head of the student, and assume that you are then prepared for the Master? The two do not equate, and never have. You are weak because you stand for nothing, and your choices reflect this." He approached the foolish white-haired man, tipping the large flask of strange oil in his hand, pouring roughly half of the content down his body. It streamed down his face, and then to all of his open wounds, the liquid trickled bitterly. "Allow me to deepen your despair," Exodus smiled unforgivingly, understanding that this one held no idea what he would become, his future was sealed.

 

The thick red concotion ran amuck, strange in the way it slithered down skin, very much alive in the way it moved. Exodus continued forward, stepping passed the focusing gem placed in the middle of the platform, and leaning towards his age-old enemy. The blood loss that the Grey Warden suffered was astounding at this point, and the return of the Force would do little to recover a body this depreciated, in the short amount of time that it had surfaced. Exodus felt no remorse, but was drawn to a curiosity that no other individual was able to spark in him. He reached out with an iron-lined hand and clutched the skull of Aryian, pulling his head back with his hair so he could shake his consciousness. "It is time to come home, Lord Ares," Exodus released his grip and with the other hand, he washed the old warrior with the rest of the mysterious fluid. The insemination of the red-water found full bloom once inside of the open orfices of a victim, vulnerable tears of the flesh is where it would begin to fester for both of the men here, changing them forever.

 

Stepping away, the Dark Lord descended the elevated platform and signaled the same two men who had carried the barrels of fuel, with a dismissive wave of his hand. The two, highly indistinguishable from one another, glanced at each other quickly before marching up the same steps that Exodus had come down from. Both bronze-armored troopers stood in front of their respective objectives and uncorked the old steel tankards, before lifting it and steadying themselves before Aryian Darkfire and Scorpio. The crowd remained a hornets' nest and gasped with excitement as the visualization of judgment became tangible. Suddenly, both barrels were lifted and both men began to splash and pour the foul smelling fuel onto the prisoners. Exodus arrested all movement as he raised his fist in the air, the two men marching off of the platform immediately with the rest of the fuel in tow.

 

Exodus withdrew his legendary lightsaber Transcendence, igniting the brilliant blade and pointing towards his two unlikely captives. The red of the savage beam was ravishing, surging almost uncontrollably with sheer power, dripping with an atmospheric bleed of heat. In a quick marvel of finesse, Exodus spun the sentient handle of the weapon with the speed of an axial propeller and plunged the swelling lightsaber into the dirt before him. He dropped to one knee, and pushed the cutting blade deeper with both hands now almost ceremoniously, distracting from a truer display of might seething from his skin. It was not noticeable at first, but small ethereal threads of perfect black began to wriggle free from the back of the Dark Lord. They were thick, unmistakably void of any light, and crawled higher and higher from his body. They sprouted from his back almost as a gas, but quickly thickened and filled out until completely opaque, even burning away the materials of his clothes from where they spawned. Thick serpentine tendrils of the dark unfastened themselves in grand display, unraveling with an ungodliness that fed the entire capital with a seeping continental dread. There were six of them, or maybe eight, but even ten was likely, that heavily wreathed all around him. There was a clear separation of space between him and the others now, with all inside his vicinity taking several instinctive steps back. Exodus drew an unnatural breath, an inhalation that was so deep and unending, empowering the flourish of dark side energies that now suffocated any and everything inside of Dragon's Gate. It was cyclical in nature, as if becoming a vacuum to the natural atmosphere and churning it into a nexus of the Force that bled from his back into pure Sith Magic. These wings were searching, un-webbed and grandiose as they flared in their fierce multitudes before the masses. The composition of these tendrils of darkness were inexhaustible; an undivided concentration of dark side energy. They lashed more intensely as they fleshed out their corporeal synthesis, drawing from the world of the living and harpooning from the land of the Damned.

 

 

  • "Iet, un sludināt Evaņģēliju par manu nāk!"
    (Go and preach the gospel of my coming!)

 

The spears of black rushed forward with a violence tantamount to the beating wings of a Dragon, punching through the middle of the wooden gallow and shattering the tied lumber. The torch that was anchored to the middle beam shook loose and smashed against the floor of the podium. Then chaos spread in the form of wildfire. The fire scattered immediately and roared loudly while the superheated timber began to cackle. The blaze swooshed beneath the wind and slithered up the bodies of both prisoners without prejudice. Three more spears of the unbound wings on the back of the Dark Lord punched into targets; one suctioning into the focusing gem that now lay with the flames, one hooking like a stinger into the neck of the scorpion, and another, darker than the rest, slashing into the heart of Darkfire. The Immortal King of the Sith could harmonize their pain, could smell the burning flesh as if it were his own. The threads of darkness that connected them now, welded their consciousness together. The euphoria of their torment belonged to the Spider, and the very stems of his irises began to wither into a bone white until there was no color or pigmentation at all..

 

 

  • =====

 

 

Venom of the Valari

 

 


  • Processed Forms: Hjertet av Raseri (Grounded mushroom), Foot of the Rahkghoul (Raw Resin), Blood Syrup (Concentrated liquid)
    Origin: Incubates near a Hjertet av Raseri, and grows in areas of pitch darkness.
    Usage: Unknown
    Appearance: A small and rare fungus growing in clusters, on long and thick stalks covered in nigh-invisible needles. The growth has a soft mushroom cap colored in black with red streaks, giving the illusion that the fungi are bleeding. Upon being picked, the fungus decompresses a large amount of gas. The cause is a high-pressure release of toxic gas from the pores on the underside of the mushroom cap. Prolonged exposure or deep inhalation can cause insanity. Loss of consciousness, and if left untreated, death are not uncommon. The fungus is soft even when dried, and have intensified red coloration, depending on maturity.
    Effects: (Liquid) Euphoria and weightlessness, followed by sleepiness and apathy, sedation and insanity in large doses. Other effects include nausea, vomiting, sleeplessness. Withdrawals are severe, including anxiety, panic and hallucinations. Digestion or open-wound contamination of this liquid can mildly suppress connection to the force, and if left untreated, can become mentally degenerative; nullifying connections through the force or to the force itself. Strangely, the poison is highly addictive in all forms.
    Other Information: House of the Valari. Rumor suggests there is a link between this venom and a reanimation of the deceased.

 

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Oni sat there, settling his mind, his emotions as the demon within him struggled to free its self. His whole life, as he knew it, was nothing but a lie, his trust preyed upon by those who knew how to exploit it and use it against him, nearly branding him a traitor amongst his brethren. It did not sit well within him. With a deep breath, his exhale long and subtle, he fought hard to quell the emotions boiling within him. For this exercise was not only to Camik's benefit, but his own as he took the time to reflect upon Exodus' revelation. The Alcazarin were traitors, and he, by association.

 

"Because it focuses the mind and body rather than draw from one's hatred and emotion. Some consider it weakness, a feeble and misguided lesson as to draw strength from the Force rather than one's will to dominate the Force." Oni spoke in reply to his pupils question, reeling in his self focus and watching Camik as he made his own attempt, following Camik's progress as he ventured outward and pushing his mental limits past the brink, watching the reactions and hastening of the emotions the young Cathar fed upon. As Camik would feed, the emotions of those he feasted upon would only grow stronger in reaction, and as such, the darkness around them would grow. "But this is not true. Meditation does settle the mind and calm the body, but the intent behind it is what determines its nature. Light and Dark are choices, not predispositions of nature. Such is the heart of all sentient beings."

 

As he spoke these words, Oni opened his eyes and gazed down at the pyramid shaped holocron, remembering the words Aryian has once discussed with him about the nature of the Force. It words held some solid truth to them. If a person's heart delved into the darkness, then darkness they would become, just as they would had the chose to delve into the light. No matter which abyss one chose to stare into, it would always end up staring back, one or the other. Such was the nature of the beast. And in his right hand, Oni tightly gripped the Darkmetal Mask he had forged upon Almas, remembering his time under Nurgle or Darth Dominus. How foolish was he to not see, to not recognize their intentions? It was there all along, the secrecy, the bonding, the intent hidden behind words of unification and shedding the past feudal eras of the former Sith. They never meant just for themselves, but rather as a whole, the means of achieving it by destroying the snake's head and destroying the Order that remained.

 

"How could I have ever been a part of that?" Oni questioned himself in silence as he briefly observed the transpiring executions taking place a distance away, a singular tear pouring down his face as he felt the lives ebb away in a searing heat. "Exodus is righteous in his belief, working from the inward out, not the outward in. If change must come in order to strengthen and resolve the Order, then one must become the head of that snake in order to shed its skin and rebirth anew. That is how it should be done.

 

But Oni had sat there contemplating for far too long and quickly turned back toward his pupil, his hand lifting upward and reaching outward toward Camik, guiding the young Cathar with his mind. As he touched Camik's mind, the young one would feel his immense power, yet notice its calm and composed nature. There was no hatred, no wrath, no hint of emotion; only power. It did not wrestle with the flow of the Force, but rather rode upon it, going with its flow and steering it when need be. Much like riding a wild animal in jeans of taming it natural, letting the animal becoming accustomed to his weight and presence. This was Camik's lesson to learn.

 

In time, it would grow more powerful, but for now, Oni simply taught his pupil the means to the end. With a swift brush of his hand, air gathered underneath Oni and lifted him, the Sith Master's feet gliding down as if stepping off a cart as he stood once again. Now do you understand Camik?

 

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R.I.P. Nanny (6/3/1941-1/9/2012)

R.I.P. Papa (2/14/1936-2/7/2012)

R.I.P. Big Mike (5/12/82-11/9/2012)

~Revelations 21:4 (KJV)~

 

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As Exodus' words rolled off his vipered tongue, I lunged forward, hawking a pool of spit and sinus drainage in his direction, drool drizzling down my face as I stared upon Furion's former Master in disgust. Even as he poured the liquid from the casked vile into my form, my state did not linger. No. I knew who he was. I knew what he stood for. And even if it meant my death this day, he would have no satisfaction. Feeling the tendrils of the liquid coursing across my form, I simply stared, fighting back the pain I felt.

 

But suddenly a sensation swept across me, a certain high creeping through my mind. I could not tell whether or not it was the liquid he had splashed across my face and chest earlier, or if something within me long thought devoured had returned in this moment of darkness. For within seconds, my conciousness faded and another within me awoke, a subtle hint as darkness swept across the construct where I was chained and it aimed its self at Exodus. It was a presence, not one he would find particularly familiar, but a hint of former pupil Furion lingered within. Even without the Force, that subtle hint would be noticable.

 

"Ahahahahahahaha!" A manical laughter erupted from within my form as the presence took full possession, a subtle yet noticeable reaction by the bronzed troopers startled by this outburst as they poured forth the fluid in quantities, the laughing growing wilder as they did. The presence seemed as if beastly, uncaring and feeding upon the pain it was being inflicted. It reveled in the intoxication of the moment, drinking in the moment as if its thirst knew no quench. And as Exodus bowed before him, his blade in hand, the presence locked eyes with the Dark King, a grin stretching from ear to ear, as if already knowing the outcome.

 

"Mēs jūs nolādējam, grēka dēls" The being spoke, his voice as hollowed and demonic as was his gaze, as his eyes pierced the veil that separated the two beings, the smile ever present, even as the flames enveloped them. "kā tavs skolēns, jūs izmantojat to, ko jūs sējat"

 

 

"Mēs jūs nolādējam, grēka dēls" "We curse you son of sin"

"kā tavs skolēns, jūs izmantojat to, ko jūs sējat" "like your pupil, you will reap what you sow"

 

 

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Galactic Alliance Lieutenant(Acting)/Former Jedi Knight(Self-Exiled)

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Camik sat in meditation feeling the swirling emotions of those he fed on. He realized that he really was feeding on them, and he was sticking a fork into each of those he fed on, for each one he took in the emotions from seemed to grow stronger emotions from it. If he could get power from this, gain control over it, it would be an endless source of power.

 

No wonder the Sith are so powerful Camik thought to himself.

 

His exploration caused his mind to think upon what his master said. ”So it isn’t so much what was taught to us in the academy, the light side and the dark side of the Force, but more of a coin with two heads. It depends on the user how he views the coin landing.” Placing his understanding of the Force in a clumsy analogy without breaking his meditation. It truly seemed that his Master had vastly different views than that of what was taught in the academy.

 

As Oni touched Camik’s mind, he gasp as the sensation of power. He knew that his Master was strong but this was truly the first time he was able to see first hand how strong his Master was in the Force. It gave Camik a goal to work towards. Then the guiding happened. Camik started to feel how clumsy he had been grasping at the Force. A cat trying to grasp the ocean. It would never work all you could do was get a handful at a time. Instead Oni simply directed it, nudging the flow of power. It was different than how the academy had described it. How could anyone try and bend this to their will? Even if they could it seemed like the most inefficient manner possible.

 

Camik opened his eyes as Oni, stepped down off the air. ”I believe I do Master.” He said, the smile of one that had just grasped the potential of what lay before him.

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It wasn’t that bad.

 

That was the words Aryian kept telling himself, over and over. In fact, it was very bad. The tortures the Sith had put him through were some of the worst he’d endured, similar to when half of him was bound to the vessel known as Darth Ares. Ar-Pharazon had no end of ways to emotionally torture him back then, and now Exodus seemed to have no end of ways to physically torture him. But there was a calm to all of it, an eye in the storm where Aryian patiently waited in the back of his mind. Despite the turmoil around him, despite the pain inflicted upon him, there was a peace to the impending finality of it all, and it was to this last bastion that the Grey Master clung.

 

As Exodus anointed him, calling to the darkness within him, a strange sensation began to sweep over him, his pain seemed...distant. Everything was going to be fine. Everything was as it should be. The Spider, the Grey, the Witness, and the Scorpion. He was drenched in the oil, and his thoughts began to swim. Everything swirled like the potentialities of the universe, and the old man felt his connection to the Force slipping, like the soft touch of a woman just out of reach.

 

And then came the impact, the gut wrenching tear as Exodus pierced Aryian’s heart, and blood mixed with poison mixed with flame, bubbling and steaming and screams and cheers...and Aryian knew the time had come. He felt it before it came, like a tidal surge of Force energy, dropping low before swelling with unimaginable power. It wasn’t he who had summoned the power, he was merely the conduit. The pact was sealed, the deed was done.

 

As power radiated outwards from the Grey Master’s charred form, a blinding light rippled forth, blinding anyone who was not supposed to see. The four present, the Spider, the Grey, the Witness, and the Scorpion, all were connected for the briefest of moments, all could see. It was the smallest glimpse of infinity, but even a little of infinity was vast. Their eyes opened wide, far wider than they had ever seen before. For the Dark Lord, the perspective would have brought an interesting array of emotion, from anger and fear at suddenly being so small in the grand machine of all, to horror and glee at the vast ocean of darkness that was a necessary part of is, to disgust and hatred at the light that permeated the darkness in chaotic harmony, an eternal dance that would end only at the end, and not a second before.

 

For that brief moment, they saw infinity, and infinity saw them.

 

A voice echoed from Aryian, low but booming, both his and not his, speaking from a perspective far higher than he had ever attained, and would never achieve again.

 

Hear me, Dark One. Your fate is thus:

 

“The Darkness comes to war with all,

And fearsome is the Lord’s approach.

Though ground doth quake and armies fall,

Shelter it brings beyond reproach.

 

“When silenced stars escape the sky,

And tainted blood in river’s run,

Instead of lost and left to die,

Prepared to fight, all rise as one.

 

“Your destiny is cast, your path set. Turn now, and invite ruin. Thus I have spoken, thus it will be.”

 

And in an instant, energy surged through the connection, the gift Exodus hoped to extract given willingly, and in far greater power than he had expected. But Aryian was gone, his form crumbling to cindered ashes as the toll from his final act took its due.

 

 

The Grey Master was no more.

Edited by Guest

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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The bone-white stems flickered with a phosphorous twinkle, while his eyes unnoticeably rolled into the back of his head. The moment was surreal, a painting perhaps; The Immortal King of the Sith on bended knee before his burning prey, tentacles tenfold swarming from his back as if the soul of a kraken was buried beneath the plates of his bone, surfacing to feed on the flesh of the sacrificed. The Grey, the Scorpion, the Witness and the Spider all woven into a brilliant tapestry of Destiny. Exodus could see now, with eyes wide shut, infinity was before him. "What is this place?" Marvel and confusion crawled out of his inner voice. The expanse of it all, even if it were just a taste, the sample was endless. The darkness was beautifully breathtaking. It held tremendous depth, silence, and reign here. Light would always come and go; but the permenance of the darkness proved that it would always remain, far more eternal than that of light. For all light required a source, but the same was not true for the core of darkness, an inextinguishable absence of those same sources. So there it was, a blinding ocean of light spilling relentlessly from a monumental source, breaking against the invincible nocturnal shores of black that surrounded it. Exodus looked down, trying to find measure with his hands, a contrast to the wild insignificance he felt in the presence of this eternal war. "How can this be..." Anger rose in him, and he blew steam from his nostrils. Any reasonable person knew that this was the truth of things, but to be shown in a way that others could never see, or should never see, was systematically defeating. Exodus cursed beneath his breath, wanting to reach out and snap the equilibrium in half, there was a confidence inside of him that believed he could, but he was as a pebble of sand inside of this hurricance. But why? Exodus stayed his blind hatred for a moment, and a glimpse of revelation eased over him as he looked closer at how the tides rolled over those shores. An understanding began to seed itself inside of the Dark Lord, a violent drum of a seed that echoed with purpose enough to defean him to reason. He reached out once more, casting aside the humility of his indifference, and—

 

 

  • "Hear me, Dark One..
     
    Your fate is thus:
     
    “The Darkness comes to war with all,
    And fearsome is the Lord’s approach.
    Though ground doth quake and armies fall,
    Shelter it brings beyond reproach.
     
    “When silenced stars escape the sky,
    And tainted blood in river’s run,
    Instead of lost and left to die,
    Prepared to fight, all rise as one.
     
    “Your destiny is cast, your path set. Turn now, and invite ruin. Thus I have spoken, thus it will be.”

 

 

Infinity looked back at him, and he froze. The reach of his fingers receded into body language of indecision, and for the first time since the days of his apprenticeship, he hesitated. The voice that called out was both familiar and unknown, and the words spoken vibrated with a frequency of knowing. Was this the prophecy the Grey Master spoke of? How did a heretic come by such insight? The Dark Lord, or the Dark One considered every word meticulously. The plane of infinity peeled backwards, and things were as they once were. The beautiful tapestry, the painting of a world hanging off of the breath of the Dark One has returned. Time itself did not continue, and all things remained still for a few seconds. How much time had passed was unknown, and would go unnoticed by everything and everyone. The large focusing gem that shared in the unmoving blaze began to shake, and the vine-like wings of Sith Magic began to course with a shadowy electrical current. In one fell flash, reality warped back into normalcy with a powerful gush of raw force, stripping the ravenous fires from the gallow and from what remained of flesh.

 

Dead silence washed over the gathered. The majestic display of Sith Magic receded. The eaten wood of the gallows creaked and fell apart in large chunks, the bodies of the captives did the same. A strange red aura permeated the corpses, similar to a filament of dust that now Circled the large gem. And now the familiar clockwork of time could be felt once more. Exodus sighed deeply, the words he had just heard hauntingly repeating inside of his mind. He noticed his lightsaber first, and how the blade was no longer activated. The tendrils of dark had receded, and the sacrificial flames had expired prematurely. Exodus stood to his full height and the large gem flew towards him, catching it solidly with the wide grip of his metal gauntlet. "Lady Jaina. Drink of this and you are free to leave. My apprentice will escort you." Exodus sheathed the hilt of his blade on a clip, and pulled the flask from the same belt. He tossed it to his apprentice, nodding to her, implying that she was to be sure that their guest had her fill. There were no explanations to why the prisoners were doused in the same liquid, nor would one be given to her. For all anyone knew, this was a brand for each of the outsiders. The Dark Lord then leaned towards the rest of his counsel, and shared a few whispers. The commander of the regiment that followed Exodus separated himself from the group and barked orders to his men. Exodus then turned towards the ship to leave, not making eye contact with any one person, as the audience began to disperse.

 

 

 

  • "..Rest easy, Grey One."

 

 

  • ==============

 

 

Synopsis

 

 

Fell poison extract from the flower on Onderon. Initiation into the House of the Valari. Few survive the extract. Will turn Ares and Scorpion into NPCS and Lords of the Damned. Permakills them. General Ares and General Scorpion will eventually rise. Exodus unleashes himself, and exploits the use of a focusing crystal to increase the potency and bridge a connection between his captives to feel their deaths and their transformations. He appears every bit, the God of Death as what seems like thousands of vine-like wings expand from his back and cut themselves into his captives. His ancient weapon Transcendence is jammed into the floor beneath him, bleeding red veins across the concrete, leeching raw psychosomatic imprints of unfiltered information from those in attendance. Aryian Darkfire and Scorpio are killed. The Valari Venom is successful. The prophecy is sealed with the passing of the Grey One; The Scorpion is sacrificed; The Witness bears the Story; The Spider is King. Jaina must drink the drink to shatter her bonds, and create her anew, and will be lead by the Golden Telperien into the outskirts to either die or survive.

 

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Oni smiled at his pupil's words, the understanding that flowed from the Cathar's lips echoing of his growth. It pleased the Sith Master that Camik was finally beginning to understand, to grow. Now it was time to apply that understanding, time for Oni to test and grade his pupil on what he has learned, and see if the Cathar truly grasped the knowledge given so freely. Oni spoke, his tone humbled, yet echoing a sense of excitement as he stepped down from his perch toward the ground meters below, his words trailing behind him. "Then let us test it."

 

With an explosion of air, Oni landed safely upon the ground below as he crouched to soften the landing after gathering the air around him to slow his decent. Rising, he awaited his Apprentice, a smile still across his face. Today would mark the first of Camik's trials, something most would believe to be too soon. But Oni was unorthadox, he chose to go against the grain rather than with it, and if Camik lacked anything, it was always best to catch it early rather than later. Plus, in truth, the distraction would do the Master some good as well. Once Camik arrived, Oni would begin.

 

******************************************

 

The air that day was brisk, a calm, yet constant breeze blowing across the landscape and snaking through the mazed streets. Oni stood before Camik, his gaze serious yet confident, his smile smirked yet humbled, his blonde locks swaying in the breeze. Taking off his trenchcoat and breastplate, Oni tossed them aside along with his weapons, and slowly raised his fists. With a simple chuckle, Oni darted.

 

First of his attacks were simple tests of Camik's reactions. Oni quickly closed the gap between the two, forcing the Cathar to confront him in close quarters as he threw a barrage of punches, following quickly with a few sturdy kicks, using their momentum to spin and following one with the other. Oni knew Camik was capable of defending himself against these, but there were purposes behind them. And as Camik would certainly retaliate, Oni would momentarily distance himself for his next barrage.

 

Like before, Oni would throw simple punches and kicks, though this time at a distance. To most, it was appearing as if he was punching and kicking thin air, but if Camik or anyone would look and feel through the force, they would notice the translucent waves leaving his form and taking aim at the Cathar with precision as the air continuously swirled about the Sith Master, Oni nudging the Force that flowed about him and through him here and there to redirect it's natural current. This would be where Camik's true test would lay. Could he defend? Could he retaliate? These were the questions Oni wanted answered. Oni wanted to know if Camik possessed the potential to move forward, or would he require more study? Watching attentively, Oni gauged the young Cathar's progress, making mental notes as the two sparred.

 

((1))

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Unnatural faces took shape in the flames that leapt higher as they hungrily devoured the bodies of the fallen: the Grey Master and the proverbial thief crucified at his right hand. The eerie words rang in her mind, branded indelibly, as she struggled to reconcile the pressing demand of eternity with the slow pendulum of time. It was almost as though the seconds slid by, ticking loudly in her ears, as the funeral pyre called her inward. Mesmerized by the lapping of flames like waves, transfixed as though in a trance, it seemed to Jaina that for just a moment, her mind was intertwined with Aryian’s, and like fingers grasping one another desperately over a vaulted precipice, he was slipping away.

 

Then he was gone, and all her mind could process was the distant sound of screaming.

 

Reality seemed to warp and fray around her as her mind struggled to catch up to the present moment, reticent to release the insights and infinite truths that she had seen and witnessed, the confirmation of all that she had held in her soul from time immemorial. The eternity that she beheld through shared eyes did not reflect her likeness, as the vision Andon had shown her professed. Pinpoints of starlight grappled with encroaching darkness, held it at bay, and went nova for all their trouble. The crushing weight of the dark seemed to plunge her into amnesia, and light and order evaporated in the face of the inevitable natural chaos. Darkness that had ebbed for a moment as eternity unfolded before them flowed with a vengeance from the Dark Lord Exodus, filling every corner of her mind, the grievous wound in the Force with the sudden and horrifying deaths of the two men before her rendering her paralyzed.

 

As the eyes of one who lived a lifetime underground might strain to adjust to a brilliant light, the illusory Master of the Jedi grappled with her senses, demanding from somewhere deep in her mind that she regain control of her faculties in the situation.

 

It was the voice of the Dark One himself, speaking her name through those hateful lips, that shattered the barrier in her mind, his commandment requiring her attention. To consume the poison that had trickled down the bodies of the sacrifices before her? It was a desolate price to pay for her own release. She barely kept at bay the need to lash out, to destroy the unholy thing before her, to seek retributive justice for the men that now gave their atomic construct up to the metamorphosis of fire.

 

Small fingers wrapped around her forearm, and like a lamb led to the slaughter, Jaina’s feet moved of their own accord, her eyes wide and her mind reeling against all that she had seen.

 

Such things were not meant for mere mortals.

 

Turn now, and invite ruin.

 

So she kept moving, placing one foot before her to maintain equilibrium, dimly aware she was being led away from the fortress toward the outskirts of the city, the part of her that was still Jedi screaming desperately into the Force for those she knew would be listening for her unmistakable voice.

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...why are the pretty ones always the most hazardous to your health?

May the Forth therve you well...

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Telperiën Ar-Pharazon, daughter of the Golden King and the last heir of the Nightsongs accepted her master’s demand with little more than a nod of her beautiful head. It was not her own head, that had been lost months before when Telperiën had taken this far more fair and far more talented body as her own. And as she looked at the prisoner before her she could feel the jealousy of such a beautiful creature creep up her ridged spine. She reached out a hand and grabbed with fingers too roughly to guide the Lady Of the Jedi through the long winding streets of Iziz. No matter where one stepped in the city, there was only the thick smell of blood and pain and a dark shadow walked with them. The corpses of hundreds of prisoners hung like banners along the fairway, their feet dangling above the heads of passers by. Their necks stretched by hempen ropes and the blood from their executions still dripping, congealed, from toes of black Galactic Alliance issued boots. The slaughter of the Grey Jedi and his accompaniment of high level Jedi and GA was nearing its completion and the crowds did not notice as Telperiën led the Jedi through the streets.

 

The path through the throngs of Iziz citizens was cleared by the Royal Guard, pushing and shoving with the butts of their blasters to give clearance for the prisoner and the Spider’s apprentice. She dragged the Lady of the Jedi through the streets, pausing for a moment to let a spew of blood from a drawing and quartering of a screaming man in tattered tan robes pass in front of them to mist the crowd of onlookers. His death was bright in the force, as was his blood. She shoved Jaina forwards again and Telperiën was tempted to use the wip she had taken from the Jedi on her, but kept the ruthlessness contained, for that would serve no purpose but for her own desires to inflict pain and there would be plenty enough time for that.

 

When the Jedi stumbled on the slick cobblestone Telperiën caught hold of her elbow and straightened her. Her voice was hoarse and gravel like as she spoke into the ear of the Jedi woman. And it echoed in both her eardrums and in her mind itself.

 

“Watch yourself, wouldn’t want to die of a cracked skull after being released by the Spider. Now Drink for he demands it.”

 

She pressed the flask to the woman’s mouth and tilted it up, for she would have her fill.

 

She wanted to ask why the Jedi had come here to their doom, or why they had stayed to die in such a manner but that would come next.

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Camik’s eyes snapped open as he heard his Master say “let's test it.” This was not an apprenticeship that allowed him to take his time learning but instead pushed him to learn quickly and on the fly. He was just starting to get the principles and it was time to put them into use.

 

Taking a running leap after his Master, Camik let the Force fill his body increasing both his strength and speed. It seemed much easier than the last time he had tried, he was expending much less energy trying to control the Force but instead simply gilded it to what he wanted. Just before he landed on the ground he gave a push of energy downwards to slow his descent to a manageable level. The shock was still a bit jarring but pain was a old friend and this was barely noticable.

 

Oni did not give Camik much time to prepare and before Camik knew it the fight had begun. He had a theory of fighting, that he wanted to test here. If controlling the Force was so much easier and took so much less energy, by simply nudging it, why not do the same with attacks. With this Camik tried to match his Master's fluid fighting, though he was sure it looked like a clumsy imitation. Despite this his blocks were not simple blocks to stop the impact but instead his feet took his body just out of the direct line of the attack, letting his block nudge the attack away from him. He would try and counter when he could, relying more on speed than power but he doubted he would get to many of them under his Masters defenses.

 

As Oni jumped back to put distance between them Camik was tempted to follow. His blood cured at the chance to chase his prey. His Master had controlled the fight and had jumped back for a reason. Before Camik could try and reason out what that was his instincts shouted at him to jump out of the way. Diving to the side he was clipped by an unseen force.

 

Camik cursed himself for the fool he was. Of course he would not let up on the attacks. Camik just hadn’t thought about using the Force itself as a weapon. Not to be deterred Camik gave a low growl, feeling the feroisity that had been buried deep in his race, and started to move closer to Oni. Using such a technique would require him to get a lot closer. He was not used to manipulating the Force in such ways and starting at such a distance would not help matters. He reached out as his Master had taught him feeling Oni’s feelings and intentions and using that to predict when and where the next attack would come. He tested using the Force itself as a weapon to nudge Oni’s attack to the side. Doing so caused Camik to push himself even further off to the side than he would have liked. He needed to brace himself better if he was going to due such actions, but there had been an upside. He had tested his attack and learned quite a bit about it.

 

When he felt he was close enough for his attack to reach, Camik directed the Force, hardening it to manifest and shot it at his Master.

 

((1))

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It seemed like months since Raynuk had been among his own kind. Among the Sith that he had dedicated his life to; the Sith collective that had lead him to countless deaths, only to rise again and continue his service. Over the countless years, the scope of his service had seen him shift from a simple apprentice, all the way up to the Dark Lord on a few occasions. He had been a leader of men, and of armies at times. Under the leadership of Exodus -- the man known as the Spider -- however, Raynuk had become a hunter; a predator. He had become the Warrior King, and the White Wolf at the same time. And for far too long the Wolf had hunted alone and without clear prey. he had been reduced to snapping at shadows when they struck at him, and every time those shadows struck at him, his snapping jaws only found dust. And Raynuk was growing tired of failing in his hunt of the shadows that plagued him. So the wolf would return to the pack, return to the Spider, and find new purpose.

 

The Ravenhammer blinked out of hyperspace at the edge of Onderon space, and Raynuk found the view to be vastly different than when he last viewed the planet. Even from this vantage, the planet showed clear signs of the Sith's presence; the entire planet felt darker. But that suited Raynuk just fine as he kicked his ship forward to approach the planet and keyed the comm to identify himself and inform the planet that he would be landing shortly. 2V had remained relatively quiet for this portion of their journey home, and even then had kept his comments to matters of the ship and general information. But then again Raynuk had not given him much reason to question or comment the Sith's actions, and had been fairly quiet himself.

 

Within however, Raynuk was keenly aware of the fact that the moment he came out of hyperspace over Onderon, his connection to Jaina flared up like the lighting of a Life Day Tree. He could feel her, down on the planet below with more than enough assurance to know it was not some sort of trick to lure the Wolf back to the fold; which Raynuk would have been a fool to not consider such a tactic from the Spider. It could still be a trap or a trick to lure Raynuk, but he knew now for sure that the 'bait' was as real as it could be. Raynuk did find a note of concern however, with the sense of panic that he felt through the connection coming from her; something was wrong with her if she was panicking this much, and so openly that Raynuk could feel it from here. The last time he had been this close to her, when their paths crossed on Corellia, there was nowhere near the level that he was sensing now.

 

But for the sake of everyone, Raynuk kept his concern close, and dared not show it, even when his only company was his loyal droid co-pilot. But nor could he ignore it for her sake. So as he had done previously, he reached through the connection and grazed her conciousness with a single word -- Steady -- and a flash of his image, standing tall and strong against a background of a red tinged, war torn sky of Onderon. It would either bring the Jedi comfort and strength, or send her crashing deeper into panic.

 

Raynuk would deal with whichever outcome it became.

 

======================================

 

Minutes later, as the Ravenhammer broke through the sky of Onderon towards a landing on the outskirts of Iziz, Raynuk had left 2V to pilot the ship while he gathered his belongings, armor, and weapons. He intended to walk upon this planet of Sith forces in full regalia, leaving none to question who he was, and what he represented. It was as cathartic as it was ceremonial for Raynuk to clip his lightsabers to his belt; to slide his warhammer into its slot on his backplate. His eyes fell to the broken shell of Torch that lay on the table before him, and didnt try to suppress the smirk that came from the thought of Raia crossing his mind, as she was the reason his charric lay sundered currently. He made a mental note to see about getting it fixed soon, but pressed on pulling his duster on over his armored form with a flurry of cloth.

 

When he returned to the cockpit, 2V was coming in for the final approach to their landing berth, a sight to which Raynuk gave an approving nod.

 

"Standard security procedures once we land 2V. We may be among the SIth, but that doesn't mean they're all our friends right now." He said before turning to make his way towards the loading ramp.

 

<<Of course Master.... because who wouldn't want to be friends with us anymore?>> the droid responded, clearly not having lost his sarcasm capabilities in the time they had been away.

 

The Ravenhammer was barely settled before Raynuk took his first step onto Onderon soil, glancing around the immediate area just in case an ambush was waiting; old combat habits die hard. With no sign of impending doom in the immediate area, the SIth pressed forward, and reached out through the Force towards Exodus.

 

I have returned to Onderon, and await an audience if you wish it, and any commands you may have for the Wolf.

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I ate a hippo. It was delicious.

May the Forth therve you well...

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Oni smirked as Camik began to push forward toward his position, using the force to aid in his defense. This was good. Oni was pleased that his pupil was beginning to see that the Force was more than just a weapon, yet a weapon none the less. And by going with its flow rather than swimming against it's current, he was beginning to see its ease in control. This please the warrior more than his pupil could view. But Oni had more to teach the young Cathar, and as he felt Camik begin to search his presence, Oni shut himself off completely. Camik would hear no thoughts, nor feel any emotion being emitted from his Master, a lesson Oni felt he needed to understand. If this was a real fight, Camik wouldn't have such an advantage.

 

"You're doing well Camik, but it won't be that easy." Oni teased in jest as he dogged his pupil's onward advance, throwing up a force enveloped barrier as the concentrated barrage nearly clipped the Sith Master in surprise. "I'm glad you're taking it to heart that the Force is your greatest weapon and aid, but if you wish to best me, you'll need to use more than just the Force."

 

Oni hadn't expected the barrage of concentrated energy, but it still pleased him all the same. But now it was time to step up his game just a little more. Camik was beginning to grasp his ability to wield the Force, but it wasn't his only available means of defense more offense. And Oni I tended to teach his pupil just that. Without the Force's aid, Oni and Camik were likely on similar level of strength, though Oni would likely possess a greater amount of speed, which Oni intended to use to his advantage. Coming out of his last dodge, Oni pivoted on his left foot, spinning his direction toward his pupil, and in a blur of force guided speed, nearly cleared the gap between the two in less than two blinks of the eye, a translucent gaunlet of force embued strength aiding his fist as it connected with Camik's jaw and sending the Cathar flying backwards. He wasn't for sure if Camik was able to lessen the impact or slow his flight using the Force, but Oni sought to see if Camik could learn on the move.

 

Unrelentless, Oni took no time in chasing his pupil's flying form, relying on the Force to fuel his kicks and punches rather than using them to simply direct the waves of energy like he threw before, this time showing Camik that it can be used in close quarters just as easily as at a distance. Using his feet, knees, fists, and elbows, Oni kept up his assault, gauging not only the Cathar's means of defence, but expecting his own attacks the few times Oni's attacks 'purposely' missed their targets. He wanted the Cathar to not only learn, but prove himself capable.

 

"Hit me with your best shot Camik." Oni spoke, a heartily chuckle erupting from behind the heavy breathing, sweat pouring down his face and dripping from upon the corner his devilish smirk as the two sparred relentlessly. "The Force, like a river, can be guided and turned if you place the proper obstacle to redirect it. Your arms, hands, legs, feet, joints, gaze, can redirect its flow and dam it up if you chose to. It takes concentration at first, but as you grow, so will your strength redirect it."

 

((2))

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Flying backwards from the force of a hit to the jaw was not an experience Camik wanted to repeat. It was this emotion that pushed him as the pain in his jaw made the world seem to slow down for him. Despite how fast Oni was moving, he seemed to be moving through mud. The pain seemed to awaken something primal in Camik speeding up his reactions and his strength. If was this, that is people were feared once upon a time.

 

But to use this ansesterial boon he would need to release his mind and let his instincts take over. He would be a mindless killing machine for a time, until the rage had subsided. His facial features started to distort. His right eye started to bulge out of his face, looking like it was going to pop out. His muscles grew right before Oni’s eyes. Camik’s fine fur that covered his body started to grow into full hair.

 

In the back of Camik’s subconscious he heard his Master's voice. The lessons that Oni had taught him about control and subtilty with the force. This was the opposite of both. This was rage personified. If he was trained to be a Sith that ramaged and fought to gain power than this Riastrad would help him. But he was not that kind of Sith. His master was shaping him to be a different kind of Sith.

 

He let out growl. It was low but loud, shaking ground. Through sheer force of will, he forced the rage down. He would not fight blindly but with skill.

 

Then he hit the ground.

 

Throwing his hands back he kicked up into the air with enough time to take a hit from his Master before he was able to regain his footing. As soon as he did he started to use the Force to enhance his speed even more, pushing himself to his limit he pivoted out of the way of the attacks, only taking glancing blows from them, and putting up a barrier of the Force that would steadily get larger, attempting to put some distance between them. Oni had shown that the could attack from up close as well from a distance but he needed space to attempt to turn this fight to his advantage.

 

 

Then he was told to attack with his best shot. Camik shrunk down his bubble of the Force, for all the good it was doing so that he could get closer to Oni. he doubted that Oni would just stand there and take whatever attack he through. He attacked with a ferocity that he enhance speed allowed. The attacks were not particularly hard but he needed to get Oni thinking of a pattern. He started to telegraph his attacks.

 

Then he lashed out. He stopped looking at his target and looked at Oni’s eyes. He punches were added by his muscles as well as the Force. Leading the punches though, were attacks of the Force, that they had been using. It was an attack of both the Force and physical so that if you blocked one the other was still there. Even moving out of the way he could redirect the Force to follow.

 

At least he hoped he could.

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Oni found his pupil's ferocity pleasing as his assault grew more defined and empowered. This is what he had intended, a combination of both physical and metaphysical, used in joint effort in a sole attack. Truly the Cathar was a fast learner, and his skill growing as time passed. While it was true that Camik had much more to learn, he had come alot farther than what Oni had met that day upon Korriban. And it was pleasing to know that he could still teach the basics. The rest would have to be learned through doing and growing, ICly and OOCly. Taking guard upon each attack thrown, Oni continuously nudged the Force around him until a cyclone of energy surrounded him. With a final nudge, the onslaught flew forth and would twirl the Cathar around and around as it lifted him from his feet and swept him away.

 

"Good job Camik." Oni spoke, his tone full of pride, a waiting his pupil to stand. "Grant me your hand, Apprentice, so that I may collect a portion of your blood."

 

Once the portion was extracted, Oni would bring forth a vile of what appeared to be onyx liquor, swirling thick. It wouldn't take much effort, but a little of it mixed with the Cathar's blood in his closed palm would heat, harden, solidify, and cool with a few minutes of deep concentration until a crystal was all that remained, Camik's blood still swirling within the darkened liquid. Looking at his pupil, Oni spoke a few words before walking off. "My gift to you for passing the first of your trials. You've shown that you have Mastered the basics of Force control, but next comes what symbolizes us, a lightsaber of your own. The crystal I've forged for you is formed from liquid darkmetal, containing your blood and essence. It will only empower you, and you alone."

 

Oni would lead Camik to a workshop near the Palace where parts were typically bought and sold as spares, allowing his pupil time to envision what his lightsaber would look like and gather the parts he would use. And if Camik had truly Mastered this Force as Oni suspected, it would symbolize his rise among his brethren. For the lightsaber to be truly flawless, he would need its guidence and knowledge, only something an Apprentice of the Force would be able to divine without prior knowledge. Something Oni himself was forced to do during his own Apprenticeship. Once Camik had collected the parts, Oni would return to the Palace ground, finding a place of meditation for his student.

 

"Now is your moment of truth. You've felt the Force steer and guide you, you've felt its touch and its depth. In order to truly forge yourself a lightsaber, you will need to let it show you the way. Open yourself up to its will, and let it forge the path that it wills you to walk. That is the truth of the lightsaber and its meaning. Not only as a weapon, but what kind of weapon. Such defines the wielder."

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D I S C O N N E C T E D

 

 

Reflections inside a house of mirrors. His breaths were languid, head full of wolfish black hair resting inside both palms, with a dark brood that washed the walls with silence. His eyes stared into the very depths of nowhere. The sheets all around him were astray, and the Dark Lord found himself nested on the brim of the bedstead. Another Human lay sound asleep just behind where he sat. Light brown, layered hair braided to reveal a bony, well-worn face. Hollow silver eyes, set seductively within their sockets, watched admiringly over the King of the Sith. Several beauty marks spread magnanimously across her left cheek and drove home a flair of brilliance that combed her naked bronzed skin. This was the face of Sillaesa, a true Witch among her people. She stands imposing in every regard to those that have witnessed her, despite her delicate frame. Lord Exodus found that there was always a fine indecipherable layer about this woman, perhaps it was the way in which the font of her dark magic courted with the Other side.

 

“The Old Wolf has returned, but you knew he would, didn't you?” Sillaesa smiled with a tongue of poison, and her words slithered as a sound that could loosen the hardest of men. She spoke, and Exodus listened. The warmth of her unclothed body drew closer to his as she pulled herself onto all fours and teasingly brushed forward against his back, mockingly role-playing as the powerful canine. Her soft hands, nails colored in the likeness of her hair, reached behind her head slowly. From the mess of her braid, Sillaesa pulled a small blade and cautiously steered it towards the neck of the engrossed King. The handle of the makeshift hair-pin was crafted in an alabaster wood, inexpensively serpentine in design. He could feel her tantalizing scent creep across his broad shoulders, wafting about the room as if it were her own. The drum of her cold heart quickened a few paces, adrenaline feeding her wild nature, rolling off of her body and onto his as a constant purr. She giggled, but lacking any juvenile innocence, more malevolently determined in how it escaped her. She leveled the blade to his neck swiftly and..

 

 

  • "Silla."

 

He spoke, and now she listened. "What do your ancestors tell you?" She kissed the side of his neck quickly and flung herself back into the tangle of sheets, watching him curiously yet again before answering. Exodus stood to his feet, and drew his slacks to his waist, tightening the draw-strings. Leaning back onto the edge of the bedframe, Exodus glanced over at the focusing gem laid out in plain sight. Tucked into the corner, the large mineral rock kindled with a powerful and raw essence that drew otherworldly energies. Sillaesa knew what this was for, and Exodus could still hear the screams of burning flesh that accompanied it. Their sacrifice, their singularities, both knitted into the future of what was to come. As for the Spider, he was an impossible man to find, unless he so wished it. The calls of the Wolf would fall on deaf ears, for the prophecy of the Grey Warden had swallowed his attention whole, removing him from the laden access he had provided his people. Before long, he would encounter his brother with a levied revelation, but now was the time for preparation. The battle of Onderon had been won, and the spoils of war still rained down upon it's people.

 

 

 

  • "Okay, Malachi. I will share this one secret with you.."

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Whispered warnings from her danger sense were overridden as the striking violet eyes of the Spider's apprentice stepped toward her. She bore Jaina's weapons, and a familiar air that anomic aphasia refused to let Jaina place with words. In a moment, Jaina could have stretched out her hand, brought her saber to bear, and resisted the torment she knew awaited her in that which the girl offered to her. As the iridescent flask pressed against her lips, Jaina's hand lashed out. Tightly, her fingers clamped around the girl's extended arm, prepared to struggle for her life against the poison that was certain to overcome her as it had overcome the others. It was inexorably coming closer, and fear began to tighten her throat.

 

Steady. His voice halted her in her tracks, commanded her muscles to still. He was here, in the flesh, on Onderon. At his own peril, Raynuk had come for her. This sacrifice that the Dark Lord had orchestrated for her would be a test of her own strength and will, of her reliance on the Force itself. But it was also a test for him: she had no delusions, this Exodus almost certainly could sense the strength of the bond that tied her soul to his. Raynuk's presence here dragged him into the spider's web just as surely as she was caught in it.

 

You shouldn't have come, she thought sorrowfully, as the first of the viscous red liquid passed her lips. Some whisper from eternity spurred her forward, allowed her a sage acceptance of the moment that she did not fully understand. It was no inner darkness that whispered to her, but the intangible leading of the Force itself, that fragment of infinity that whispered orders to her, such that she might balance the chaos. But first, she must become it.

 

A trial by fire, by blood, by darkness.

 

Unblinkingly, she met the eyes of the dark apprentice, and wrapped her own hands around the fractal vessel as though determined that she ought not to leave a single drop in the flask.

 

The flames that had curdled the skin of the Grey Master before her eyes proceeded in rank and file down her throat, flooding every millimeter of her esophagus with searing pain. For all she knew, she was metamorphosing into something, something stronger than her corruptible mortal frame--a drexl, perhaps, or a tarentatek, with the way her breath came and went like fire. It was oddly disembodied, as the already red-tinged sky of Onderon deepened to burgundy. Her fingers could no longer process the sensation of touch, and the flask slipped from between her hands, as she stumbled back from the apprentice, doubling over with her hands on her knees, her disheveled braid tumbling over her shoulder. Squeezing her eyes shut even more firmly did little to quell the excruciating pain erupting in her mind, to the sound of her own heartbeat. Uncontrollable nausea overtook her, and for a moment she thought her body itself would reject the Dark Lord's offering. A scream of high-pitched nothingness rang eternally in her ears, and Jaina could not seem to remember how to breathe, how to move.

 

Panicked hyperventilation began to set in as she gasped for breath, her shoulders shaking unrelentingly.

 

Jaina, came a whisper of memory from a moment that never occurred. I would have followed you. Andon's longing was palpable.

 

She had barely opened her mouth to call out to him when another voice filled her mind, confusion, and remorse flowing in Raynuk's tone. Can you... see me?

 

How long before we’re asked to use this bond like a weapon? her own mocking tone rang in her mind.

 

NO! she screamed into the Force, her hands over her ears, wresting the power of the Force from nothingness to quench the terror that seized at her insides with cold, unforgiving claws. The poison had birthed a drexl within her, mewling and squealing and clamoring for her memories as its first meal.

 

Then, all was quiet.

 

Slowly, inch by inch, she stood to her full height. The flames had subsided within her, giving way to embers whose destructive power she did not underestimate for even a moment. Letting her hands fall to rest quietly at her sides, she opened her eyes. The Gates of Iziz stood before her, and at last, Jaina understood. Her sentence was no better than the Grey Master's.

 

Eyes sharp as daggers rested on the apprentice. "My weapons," she said hoarsely, extending her palm. It required tremendous exertion for her to maintain control of her faculties, and control through the Force to consciously suppress the reaction that threatened to burst out of her at any moment from the firewater which she had imbibed. "Please."

 

I awakened in ice, afraid of being burned by the fire, and so I ran until I could run no longer. But when the fire melted me, and I became real, all that it became to me was the warmth of life.

 

Images flashed in reverse and the whispers grew louder, a twisted highlight reel of her memories, and Jaina knew, as they progressed, amidst the taunting eyes of the Grey Goddess:

 

This test would claim her life.

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...why are the pretty ones always the most hazardous to your health?

May the Forth therve you well...

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The fight ended much like Camik expected it to. A lesson being taught to him. He had heard rumors of apprentices killing their masters in the academy. If this bout was any indication that fight would be a long time off, if ever. Though as he pondered it for a second, Camik wasn’t sure why he would kill Oni. Other Sith, yes, but at this time he could not see a reason to kill his master.

 

As he was ordered, Camik presented his palm so that his Master could collect his blood. He watched as the blood swirled and congealed forming into a crystal. It was fascinating to watch.

 

As Oni finished making the crystal and told Camik it was made from Darkmetal. The same material that his staff was made from, Camik found himself stunned. ”Master I am honored that you find me ready for this gift though I do have a question. You said that Darkmetal fed off our life forces. Will this lightsaber do the same?” He would not turn down the crystal either way but it was important to know the strengths and limitation of ones weapons. Especially one that was to become an extension of oneself.

 

As they walked he tried to picture what his new lightsaber would look like. But every time he tried he found a different image. Almost like the image itself was changing. He slowly walked through the workshop his eyes not really looking at the items seemly picking up parts at random. He was letting his instincts guide him. He made several laps though the workshop before he finally stop, turned and faced his Master. His eyes cleared as he focused once again. ”I believe that I have everything I need. ” With those words he followed his Master out of the workshop and to the palace grounds.

 

Camik took a seat and carefully laid all the parts out before him and looked at them. He did not know how they went together. He was a fair hand at being a mechanic on his ship but nothing like this. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The Force was something that was nudged not tried to grapple with. That was what his Master had been teaching him. Perhaps it worked both ways. Camik opened himself to the Force. Letting it guide his actions. Slowly his hands began to move. He picked up some parts with his hands, while others he picked up with the Force. Gradually the saber came together like the parts had been casted for just this task.

 

Finally he reached out with the Force and picked up the Darkmetal crystal . It floated up and was enveloped by two sections of the handle. If he had been thinking instead of simply acting as the Force guided him he would have at least watched the last part of his saber being assembled but that pleasure what not his to watch today.

 

With the final pieces together Camik’s eyes snapped open. His hand reached out to grab the metal tube. It was about ten inches long with a few buttons on it. He looked it over in awe and wonder, inspecting every minute detail of it. It was a weapon for him and him alone. It would react to only him. Given that knowledge he pressed one of the buttons and allowed the energy blade to extend. It was only about 18 inches in length. Nothing like the blades he had seen others wield. Theres were much longer, providing better length. The blade was so a deep purple, with a tinge red on the outside. He gave it a few test swings feeling the balance. It moved as if it were alive in his hands. Midswing he pressed the second button, which made the handle telescope out until it was almost as tall as he was. His swings morphed swinging the lightspear around his body.

 

Satisfied he pressed both buttons returning it to its resting state, bowed and presented it to his Master for inspection.

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The force stirred around the beaten Jedi, echoing from distant past and the present they walked the uneven flagstones that wound their way to the great gates of Iziz. The woman was fierce in the force and Telperiën could see why her adopted father was so fond of her. But her weakness was profound, and her insistence on sticking to such a rotten and weak philosophy wrinkled Telperië’s nose in disgust. She could not abide such weakness and the desire to simply slit the woman’s throat with the dagger she had on her belt was alluring. But Telperiën had to allow the weakness on the desires of her master, so she simply kept quiet as they stumbled to the gates, which swung noisily open in front of them. Telperiën pressed the meat of her thumb against a sharp tooth in her mouth and tasted the relaxing copper of blood.

 

The woman outstretched her hand and brusquely demanded her weapons which Telperiën initially sneered at. But she knew Exodus would not be opposed to such a thing, a worthy adversary didn’t deserve to die to a beast in the wilds. No she deserved to be struck down in a battle years from now at the final stand of the Jedi Order. So she would give them back.

 

She pulled the the Jedi’s sabre from her belt and placed it into her outstretched palm. Then followed with the whip which she coiled and placed into her hand, it had a spirit about it, but it was long dead and uninteresting. Then Telperiën reached her hand out to the jedi, tracing a rune of blood on the back of her neck.

 

“Be safe Jedi.”

 

Then she watched as the Jedi made her way into the forest. Dampening her presence to nothing and relying on the ways of her people, Telperiën followed. Keeping out of sight of the delirious Jedi and tracking her through the thick underbrush, ever just out of sight. But spying for her Lord the Spider. She would follow until the ends of the earth, for she had been raised to silently track prey through the underbrush of the Dathomiri lowlands.

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Silence.

 

Raynuk had lingered on the edge of the city, ensuring that he was never too far from the Ravenhammer until he knew the full scope of how he would be received. He had expected a response of some sort however; open arms, cautious study, or outright aggression. Instead, he was treated to silence from the Dark Lord, which was telling enough for one so currently guarded as Raynuk was. And so Raynuk was left to wander the outer edges of the city openly, mulling the choices he had and the eventualities they could bring.

 

There was always the option to simply venture deeper into the city, towards the strongest presence of darkness within, which would undoubtedly put him nearer the Spider, sitting at the center of his web. But to do so would mean venturing farther from where he could feel Jaina. Even though he had purposely not reached out to find her more precisely, he still had a general awareness of her always, especially when they happened to be on the same planet. And Raynuk was not stupid enough to believe that him running towards her presence at a time like this would go unnoticed by Exodus. The silence he had received thus far could just as easily be a point of strategy by the Spider to see just what direction Raynuk would go in if left unanswered.

 

Raynuk took a deep breath and closed his eyes, refocusing his mind and his thoughts, which he realized in that moment had grown towards the realm of paranoia. When his eyes opened again, Raynuk made it a point to busy himself, opting to distract himself outwardly, and ventured to one of the closest vendors that had somehow managed to carve out a market stall in the middle of the street, selling electronic components by the look of it. Raynuk surmised it was probably all scrap that had come from the aftermath of the recent battle above Onderon. If nothing else, he decided, he might get lucky and find components with which he could repair Torch by himself. And so Raynuk began to browse the limited selection, making a show of looking busy.

 

You shouldn't have come...

 

Her voice came to him barely a few moments into his distraction, wrapped in the sorrow he unfortunately was getting used to feeling from her. The panic and fear that he had felt before had abaided slightly, perhaps because of -- or in spite of -- his confirmation that he was nearby. But though diminished, the panic and fear were still present, and lead to a more confusing sense of fog gripping at the edge of what he felt from her. But to probe the cause or specificity of what that fog was would be to risk too much. So for the moment, he merely whispered back to her.

 

These are my people, for better or worse. I do not fear them.... And I intend to keep my word, even here, even now.

 

The strength of his own statement and the conviction behind it fell just shy of surprising him; long ago he had harshly learned the level of effect that Jaina had on his thoughts and decisions. And the conviction behind what he had sent to her had not faded in the slightest when compared to when they spoke on Corellia.

 

"I owe it to her for all the time I stole from her by chasing her around like a monster..." He had told Tirzah that back on Corellia, when the girl had almost reluctantly visited him. A twinge of guilt tore through him at the thought of the girl, even though Raynuk bore no part in the fact that the girl was currently gone. Rather, it was guilt on behalf of Jaina, who was now living a second life because of him.... One that seemed to be filled with just as much pain and suffering as the first had.

 

Finding three blaster rifles that had all been broken beyond working -- one of which had somehow become fused with what appeared to be the remains of a trooper's arm -- gave Raynuk a point from which to refocus on in the present. He examined all three relatively quickly, and then flipped the vendor a handful credits without a word as he turned from the stall and began walking back towards the Ravenhammer, his mind made up about more than just the pile of parts he was now carrying.

 

The Wolf was not about to walk into a trap... no matter the direction.

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I ate a hippo. It was delicious.

May the Forth therve you well...

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"Good, you've been paying more attention than I thought." Oni spoke with a smile, glancing over the weapon, taking note of a potential flaw in its design, nothing Oni could teach Camik to compensate for. " While Darkmetal does draw upon the user's life force, you have little to worry about here. By infusing the liquid around a crystal forged from your own blood, I've endured that it only responds to yours alone, and with what little was used, you won't feel any of the effects. Using the Force will take more out of you than what laces the crystal.

 

With that, Oni activated the lightsaber, showing that it did not react to him like the Mask he wore did, the force flowing around him in its usual fashion, the purple hue glowing against his white skin with red shades defining his features. "There is one small flaw to your choice in the saber's style." Oni spoke, pressing the second button just as Camik had done and releasing its extension, placing his hand upon the ejected pile as if he was going to use it. "But not a fatal one."

 

Nudging the force's path through his form, Oni directed it toward the extended hilt through his arm and hand, the ejected hilt beginning to darken as currents of red static began to form and dissipate across its unsheathed form. "You can make anything impervious to the strike of a lightsaber simply by apply its protection. However, this takes away from your ability to defend yourself while in combat and forces you to solely rely on your skill with the saber. So, only use the extension if you need the reach, and train yourself for the times you will need it."

 

Returning the deactived saber to his pupil, Oni turned as a courier managed to find his way toward the two, Oni's thoughts turning toward another mistakened package save for this man wore the uniform of the Sith. Before he could even manage to utter a word, the man clearly out of breath, handed over a datapad. "Forgive me Lord Oni, but we've had trouble location you and your apprentice."

 

"Fret not." Oni spoke, raising his hand as he read the datapad thoroughly, realizing the significance of it and tossing it back to him. "I thank you for your diligence... Camik, come, we must go. Looks like you're about to recieve you first chance at testing the lightsaber."

 

And like that, in a mist of pure darkness, Oni had disappeared into thin air as he headed toward the departing ships. Camik only had to follow his Master's presence, and only he was allowed.

 

((Jumping ahead to Kuat. Follow however you will.))

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Camik watched as his new saber was inspected. He could the flaw just as Oni had pointed it out. The long metal shaft would be susceptible to any lightsaber strike. He would have to practice the technique that his master had briefly shown him. Being able to extend his saber would be a valuable tool but not one he would be able to use often.

 

He accepted back his saber and attached it to his belt, just as a courier came running. Hearing that the courier had a hard time finding them was not surprising they had been running all over the city. Granted they had been sitting for a while, which is why the courier was able to catch up.

 

Hearing that he would soon be able to test out his new saber made Camik’s heart beat a bit faster. Though seeing Oni disappear in a puff of smoke, Camik could not help but think to himself as he followed his Master ”one day that will be me”

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The return of her saber brought marginal comfort to Jaina, and as she stumbled down the seldom-trod path that led out from the walls of Iziz, into the relentless unforgiveness of Onderonian bamboo, it was something like a security blanket against the encroaching darkness. In the wilderness, there was only the savage impartiality of nature and nature’s law: no motive, no leading, no intention, simply the will to survive.

 

An urge that she herself was feeling in spades.

 

In some ways, it mirrored the infinite chaos she had seen in the Force reflected through the Grey Master’s supernova of an exit from mortality. Dark and light in their infinite dance: the endless circle of new birth and violent death, the vicious fauna that had been banished from the populated center of Onderon at the beginning of the planet’s recorded history served as an example of the neutrality and chaos of the Force.

 

She hadn’t expected the craven violet-eyed girl to return her weapons, and truly, she barely dared to question why. The light-attuned crystal in her saber protested loudly against the rapidly declining cogency of her senses, and her hand tightened around it all the more, clutching it to her chest as though it might serve as an anchor or a beacon to give her some clarity as to how she might dig herself out of the pit into which she had been thrown.

 

Her whip, however, betrayed her.

 

The sordid crimson threads that spiraled out from her innermost being, threading vines of depravity through her veins one by one, called to the ancient spirit imbued in it as it trailed limply from her other hand. Its chant grew louder and louder within her, until it reached its final fever pitch: a primal scream that joined with the braying of the drexls overhead to sing her the requiem of her impending sacrifice.

 

With staggering footsteps, she darted further into the bamboo forest, toward the pulsing heart of darkness that demanded her presence. Hands waved at phantom cobwebs wrought between boughs, as if to clear away the fog that crept up from the searing poison welling in her gut. The sweltering humidity settled over her skin like a thick blanket she couldn’t kick off in the dead of night. Her heart beat a tribal rhythm in her ears that grew tenfold with each passing moment, every footfall increasing the distance between her and any hope of getting offworld. But there was something that she needed to see in the depths of the jungle, some revelation that the Force was pulling her toward, and as truly as she knew her own name, she knew that the path to her future lay through this one narrow gate.

 

Finally, the endless jungle gave way to a circular clearing that she estimated to be nearly fifty meters in diameter, through which a muddy, gurgling stream slithered. The increased pounding of her heart served as the steadily mounting pressure gauge for her being. It’s here, I know it is, she thought desperately, with still nary a clue what it is she searched for. I just have to find it.

 

Breathing took all of her focus. Threads of panic grasped at her ankles like thick and dauntless seaweed, weaving a net in which to entangle her. Her elevated heartbeat had circulated the poison all throughout her body in a manner of moments, and as the chills began to set in and Jaina fell to her knees in the soft embankment, relinquishing her hold on consciousness, she reflected vaguely that the last time she had fallen asleep had been in the safety of her husband’s embrace…

 

---

 

I awakened in ice…

 

As though she was falling, and the impact jolted her awake, Jaina’s body spasmed, returning her abruptly and immediately to a consciousness she did not want. The flora around her had disappeared into the dim of evening, and through the thick foliage overhead she found that she could not get her bearings.

 

She pushed herself to sitting, her skin moist from the settling dew, and the world slipped out from underneath her. Her stomach turned, and she repressed a nauseated lurch--gravity was upside-down. As though in slow motion, she extended a hand to the rich viridian bed in which she lay, expecting the scent of sweet grass to settle her as she pulled up a bruised handful. The noxious fume of ammonia flooded her sinuses, and Jaina coughed raspily, tossing her fistful of greenery aside. It may have been her imagination, but she could have sworn that in her forceful exhale, some winged creature was expelled from her lungs.

 

It’s not real, she reminded herself, delving into the Force to center her, to speak truth to her, to massage the poison from her system on the cellular level.

 

But in the gathering gloom of the planet as it turned its face away from the star Japrael, the primal and vicious curiosity that filled the clearing around her was no illusion, no hallucination.

 

The beasts of Onderon, renowned for their implacable ferocity, had found her at last.

 

The air around her seemed to shudder, and time could not decide whether to go forward or backward, as Jaina struggled to find her footing. The unmistakable tremolo breathing of massive hulking kath hounds disrupted the stillness. They had her surrounded--or was there only one of them? Hateful burgundy eyes glowed from every corner of the clearing, yet somehow their light did not relieve the encroaching dark. Slowly, painstakingly, she moved her hand toward the saber that hung on her belt, wrapping shivering fingers around the comforting warmth of its hilt. Without explanation, she knew: she must not make a sound if she wanted to live.

 

And then she saw them. Pale white, glowing with the fervor of life. As vibrant and true as they had been when Jaina first laid eyes on her on Tython. Tirzah’s unseeing eyes peered from behind the hounds, vengeance written in her very essence.

 

...afraid of being burned by the fire…

 

Then Jaina’s veins ignited. A wild scream that she could not suppress erupted from her lips as liquid fire began to pulse through her at the molecular level.

 

And the carefully balanced blade tipped toward death.

 

A snarl erupted as the first of the hounds sprang toward her, and Jaina hesitated no longer, audibly gasping to distract her from the pain as she yanked the saber off her belt and ignited it in one swift motion, leaving the head of the beast smoldering on the toxic grasses beside her.

 

Immediately, she regretted the ability to see.

 

No fewer than a dozen hounds filled the clearing. The one who bore Tirzah’s eyes was massive, bristling, a long, jagged scar running down one side of its face, sundering the pristine pale fur it bore. And while they had initially approached her with curiosity, the death throes of the decapitated beast at her feet left no room in their simple minds: she was a threat, a predator, an invader to be repelled.

 

Her arms shook uncontrollably as she brought her saber to bear, terror beginning to seize at the edges of her consciousness. Her muscles refused to respond to impulses from her brain, commands falling flat, and with increasing fear and frustration she began to pivot desperately on one foot, batting away the cautious advances of the beasts that were looking for the best way to avoid the brilliant beam of her weapon.

 

And then they changed. Their fur melted away like liquid metal, revealing skeletal faces full of jagged teeth in rows, exposed vessels pumping acidic blood that was sure to melt her just the same if she came into contact with it. Steam rose from their backs as the rainforest began to pour out its tears on Jedi and beast alike, and Jaina found her breath coming shallower and shallower as the branding iron in her veins left its mark. She grasped at the undercurrent of the Force she knew must run through these beings, desperate to stabilize herself, terrified panting all that her lungs could manage.

 

But the Force was silent to her. Her arms were limp and weak, barely able to hold her saber. Jaina fell back into the place where she knew there would be safety, that shuttered sanctum where her bond to Raynuk was tethered. Where even if the Force abandoned her, her own tie to his life would remain as long as she was living.

 

But there was nothing.

 

...and so I ran until I could run no longer.

 

One step back. And another. And another. Jaina’s breath came only in terrified sobs as the hounds grew closer, and larger, their breath like the stale blast of hateful wind on Tatooine, saliva dripping off of their fanged teeth as though they had prepared for her a baptism. Her danger sense was silent, but the menace and cruelty written in each creature’s eyes told her all she needed to know.

 

She was truly alone. She would not outrun them. She could only outlast them.

 

With a scream of panic, and terror, and rage, she threw herself at them in a violent lunge, giving way to the only thing that made sense in this world that was upside-down: survival. Molten-metal fingers barely managed to keep a hold of her saber as they charged at her. She fell into rote movements, practiced thousands of times, in the hollow absence of the Force that gave purchase to her craft. One hound fell with a yelp and a snarl as she plunged her saber through its shoulder blades. Another lost the lower half of his jaw as his open maw collided with the violet light. Each swipe of her blade was accompanied by a guttural growl, as if the sound of her own voice was the only reminder that she was, truly, still living, in this jungle devoid of the Force.

 

Spinning on her heel, she fell backward into the soft earth as she turned just in time to avoid the snapping teeth of one of the hounds that had managed to circle around behind her, and a quick swipe downward relieved it of its head as well, joining the growing pile of furred bodies around it. Two others hesitated in the growing dim, the red of their malicious eyes turned on the havoc she had caused already.

 

Two dozen daggers in her left shoulder elicited another scream in earnest as Jaina’s blade slipped from her fingers. The massive pale hound had seized her, its jaws inexorably clamped through her flesh, dragging her along the soft earth. Instinctively, she clawed at its face with her right hand, searching, groping, scratching at its eyes in order that it might release its hold. With sobbing gasps, she dealt blows without purchase as the hound shook her violently, as it might worry a prey animal.

 

Her left hand was limp at her side, unable to reach the whip she had coiled at her belt. It refused to respond to her calls into the Force, as though she had gone mute and deaf, utterly senseless within her supernatural abilities. The left side of her body tingled with acute pain, the loss of feeling almost a relief as the pain ebbed with any sensation she had left.

 

Not like this, something deep within her whispered.

 

With an almighty howl, she wrenched her body sideways, tearing ligaments and muscle on the creature’s teeth as she managed to wrap her weak fingers around the handle of the whip and pull it loose. A haphazard flick of her wrist sent the coil winding around the massive hound’s neck, and with all the strength she could muster, Jaina yanked.

 

It was little more than a distraction for the hound, but it was enough. The clamp of its jaws loosed with surprise, and with the added mobility, she swiveled toward the beast, plunging her finger into the bright white eye of her daughter.

 

With a yelp and a howl of pain, the hound released her, and she collapsed into a heap on the ground. Unbearable searing pain filled her left side as she braced herself along her right forearm, crawling toward where her saber had been dropped. The snorting and snarling of the beast subsided, and Jaina dared not turn for fear of what she would see.

 

Clammy fingers met cold metal in the frigid grass. She rolled onto her back, determined to meet the remaining eye of the beast.

 

And with a telltale snap-hiss, her violet blade burst into flaming life, as the pounce of the last remaining kath hound caused it to impale itself upon the Jedi weapon.

 

Time went out of existence as Jaina lay in the grass, sobbing, the body of the massive hound laid across her abdomen, vaguely aware that her lifeblood itself was draining into the ground beside her.

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...why are the pretty ones always the most hazardous to your health?

May the Forth therve you well...

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Time continued to flow and pass as Raynuk found himself back aboard the Ravenhammer, standing over the workbench that occupied a corner of the cargo hold. Before him on the workbench lay his charric rifle, Torch, bent and mangled after Raia 'borrowed' it during the fall of Kashyyyk, the girl and the weapon becoming the unfortunate victims of gravity as they fell from one of the countless platforms in the trees of that planet. He had determined the extent of the damage to the weapon after he had recovered it, but now again found himself pouring over the weapon, taking mental notes about which components could be salvaged, and which could not. Behind him, dumped unceremoniously on the floor of the cargo bay were the three scrapped blaster rifles that he had found and bought from the street vendor.

 

Initially thankful for something mundane and localized to focus his mind on like rebuilding the weapon, Raynuk could not help but let his mind wander slightly every so often. Like a child hiding behind a rock that dares to steal a glance over its hiding place, Raynuk would reach out into the Force for signs of the only two people on this planet that could drive him to action; the Dark Lord Exodus, and Jaina. The Spider continued to be silent through the Force, and Raynuk found no signs of the man being physically any closer to him either. But despite the silence, Raynuk could feel that the Spider had not failed to notice the return of the Wolf. The part of Raynuk that somehow remained cemented in hope even after lifetimes of being a Sith considered that the Dark Lord was simply busy or otherwise indisposed and unable to greet the Wolf as a brother in arms. But the other parts of his mind, the cautious and calculating sections that had allowed him to live several lifetimes as a Sith, remained almost paranoid of the Spider's intentions. Meanwhile, Jaina's presence continued to warp. It both felt like there was physical distance growing between them, but also like he was looking for her through a fog bank that was continuing to thicken. Yet through it all, with all the red flags and concerning aspects, she was still there. He could still feel her, through the Force and through the connection that had served as both boon and curse to the pair since they awoke separated by the stars. He would stand firm for now, caught between his duty and his heart.

 

Having come up with a basic idea and plan to repair his charric, Raynuk soon fell fully into the mechanical repair, all his concentration and focus churning into the work he was performing. He began deconstructing the charric to its base components, then one by one brought the salvaged rifles to the table and tore them down as best as he could as well. With a fair amount of time and precision, he even managed to separate the arm of the trooper that had been fused into the casing of one of the rifles. From there he dove into evaluating and testing components from all four weapons one by one. Those that failed received a simple toss over his shoulder, the Sith deeming the item no longer worthy of his time and attention. It was not long until a small pile of broken pieces filled the same space the salvaged rifles had occupied previously. Carefully he began to lay out the working components one by one before him along the mental plan he had settled upon.

 

Of course, like any good plan that is deemed flawless, he almost immediately had to adjust it and adapt it every time a component that was previously considered irreplaceable had to be, in fact, replaced entirely as he pressed on. He had lost track of that most important variable -- time -- until the mechanical tone of 2-VSH carried across the cargo bay.

 

<

 

Raynuk emitted what could only be described as a huff as he paused his work, closing his eyes as he tried to remember in the course of a fraction of a second why he continued to put up with the droid. But a moment later a small wry smile graced his face; it was for precisely the fact that 2V talked so brazenly to Raynuk without fear that ensured the droids continued survival. It was refreshing at times, and kept Raynuk's sometimes inflated ego in check when it began to grow too much. He turned to glance at 2V from across the nearly empty cargo bay for a moment before speaking.

 

"Did you just come down here to try and pretend to be my mother, or was there something of actual value behind your departure of the cockpit?"

 

2V nodded, silently accepting the barb volleyed back at him, his photoreceptors scanning the room for a moment as if it was thinking. <>

 

Raynuk glanced back at the workbench, silently asking himself just how long he had been working on this weapon. 2V's arrival had broken whatever zen-concentration he had fallen into when working on the charric it seemed. But as he had been subconsciously doing before he had gone all zen-weaponsmith, Raynuk peeked out from behind his rock.

 

And for the first time in forever, the blood in Raynuk's entire body ran cold as ice.

 

She was gone.

 

His brow furrowed deeper, mind absolutely refusing the conclusion it had just come to. He tried again, daring to reach out further into their connection than he had since coming to Onderon. And as what little color remained drained from his face, Raynuk dove into the Force proper, completely desperate for any answer besides the one he had found twice now. Only then, after throwing all caution to the wind and swearing he didn't give a **** if this was a trap laid for him, Raynuk found a glimpse of Jaina's presence in the Force.

 

It was not right in any way, feeling more like a broken shard of glass; small, sharp, and jagged. There was fire, there was pain, and -- oh yes -- there was blood reflected in that broken shard of glass that used to be Jaina. His mind reeled, and his stomach nearly wretched with the sickness that flooded his entire body. In that moment nothing else mattered; he had promised her, and had promised Tirzah, that when the cards were drawn, he would not abandon her, even in the midst of a Sith fortress planet. His mind reeled and spun, the mental plan for his charric thrown out faster than a rotten apple that also happened to be on fire in search of an idea with which he could deal with this massive wrinkle.

 

Like so many times in history before this moment, Raynuk began moving before he fully had a plan; it was more of an idea for a plan. He crossed the cargo bay in a dash, dropping whatever tool or component had been in his hand when the realization had struck. He darted out of the cargo bay in a mad rush of speed, pausing only long enough for the ramp of the Ravenhammer to open enough for him to slide through the gap, landing harshly on the ground below, but remaining on his feet. Night had fallen since he was last on the planet's surface, yet Raynuk's eyes began to dart around, coming to rest as his entire body turned to face the jungle beyond the city of Iziz north of him. There was only a moment of pause before he took off running. Unfortunately, he was not on the nearest edge of the city in comparison to her, meaning he had to run into the city and along the streets at its edge to get closer to where he felt her in the distance.

 

Maybe I’ll never stop chasing you Jaina…

 

More of his conversation with Jaina rushed back to him in that moment as he took off running away from the Ravenhammer.

 

Maybe if you stop running, I won’t have to chase you anymore...

 

Raynuk began to exit the clearing that he had placed his mighty ship in, entering the city itself, every step bringing him closer towards the jungle from which he knew she she was within.

 

...stop running...

 

The words echoed once in his own voice.

 

..stop running...

 

The words echoed again, but this time his voice shifted into a whisper in her voice. And as abruptly as he had taken off running, he came to a stop in the middle of an empty street. His breath heavy as his heart pounded, his own voice, his own promises to a Jedi he should have wanted to kill, returned.

 

You’ll never be alone; I promise you. When you’re weak, I’ll be strong for you. When you let go, I’ll hold on.

His own words seemed to fail to affect him, standing like a statue in the street until he spoke, whispering to himself. "I'll be strong for you..."

 

From behind him, the metallic voice filled his ears once more.

 

<

 

Raynuk suddenly reeled, spinning on his heels to face the droid. He practically pounced upon 2V, pushing the droid backwards against a wall from the sheer weight of his momentum. Somehow, the droid managed to look surprised as Raynuk seized upon him, and the Sith managed to even lift the droid off the ground slightly, the very slight and subtle sound of metal creaking as the droid's arms became slightly crushed by the emotionally compromised Sith.

 

"You! You have to go. Have to go get her!" He snarled through gritted teeth at his droid, making absolutely zero sense to 2V.

 

<>

 

"NO. SHUT UP." Raynuk roared, his voice booming as though he was filled with rage. But this time, it was fear, and panic that filled his eyes. "You need to take the ship. Go to the jungle north of the city. Tell no one what you are doing. She's in there somewhere. Find her... save her."

 

2V's head tilted slightly, studying the face of Raynuk. <

 

Raynuk's gaze faltered, falling from 2V's face before he recollected himself, his eyes returning to their mark now filled with determination.

 

"Jaina Jade Skywalker."

 

Raynuk did not know that 2V's photoreceptors were capable of getting bigger, growing wider in the same manner as a humanoid who was suddenly surprised by an answer. Yet that is exactly what happened as 2V suddenly looked absolutely surprised.

 

<>

 

=====================

 

Less than five minutes later, the Ravenhammer's repulsors flared to life, kicking up the thin layer of dirt that had settled on the ground beneath the ship. It lifted swiftly, and once reaching an appropriate height, spun before the main engines lit, sending the ship hurtling across the sky.

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I ate a hippo. It was delicious.

May the Forth therve you well...

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