Onderon

[Camik Rhonik]

Camik stood behind his Master. His dark cloak hiding much of his features. He wasn’t sure why this was happening but this was obviously not the time to ask questions. Those would have to wait. For now he would obverse and react as things would come.

 

Words like Emperor and Brother floated to his ears. It would seem that his Master was quite connected as well as powerful. Perhaps things in his life were beginning to look up.

 

Camik briefly wondered if he was going to asked to swear fealty as well. Who was Camik kidding he doubted it would be a request but more of a command.

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

Telperiën winced as she came down hard on both legs. She could feel muscle and sinew tear as she put weight on the leg. The warm trickle that she felt filling her boot along with the white hot pain of tearing skin that shot up her leg to almost immobilize her in its furor brought a shy smile to her lips. The pain was joyous to her, it fed her spirit and brought her power that sizzled at her fingertips. She sat back on her haunches as she built the power around her, it crackled in the air with static discharge as her beautiful eyes sought a source for healing. She smiled and reached out with the force to grasp the orcish thug with the force. This did not stop him from swinging his axe with force into the ground, but she kept out of reach.

 

Stay beast

 

Her voice echoed in the silent hall as she began a chant. Fixing her eyes upon the beast as her lips moved in the guttural tongue of the Nightsisters of Dathomir.

 

Voghormut’yan astvatsy tvek’ dzer buzhich’ hzorut’yuny

 

With a pale white hand she grabbed the jutting chunk of bone that formed the compound fracture on her leg. With great force of strength and with the force itself she shoved the tibia back into position. The pain fueled her move and fueled her anger. She used that to begin the work of patchwork healing, drawing on the life of the Lord’s bodyguard and feeding it piecemeal into the wound itself. Stitching the jagged scar in the bone with the force. When several seconds later she could at least put some weight on the leg she sprung again at the creature. Holding him still with the grip of the force as she carved an intricate pattern of light into his flesh. Her grin beaming in the great hall. She sprang onto the backswing of his axe and propelled herslef lightsabre first into his maw.

[Terra]

Kote.

 

Glory of war. An eternal legacy.

 

Another mouthful of blood dampened the scarred earth, seeping into the dying moss and leaving a trail of acrid smoke. Her mind was as scattered as the voices that echoed from Hades. A disjointed chorus of contradicting answers.

 

…Leave my mind if you will not add to its strength.

 

The great Basilisk shuddered beside her, its beskar’gam plating grinding in a shower of blue sparks. The chorus began to unify, screams of pain rushing through her mind. Her own eyes began to shift colors, the AI interfering with her control. The world began to shift between the wavelengths that could be seen under the half-light of Onderon’s star. A singular voice emerged, that of a young girl. She was disconnecting herself from the chorus and filtered herself through the holoprojector on the Basilisks’s shuddering arm.

 

We find honour in victory, not in farming. The conquest of worlds.

 

Terra grasped the mans larger hands with her own. Her hands were small in his, but they were equally rough from years of work. She looked into his eyes, and matched his passion with her own

 

“Kote, we can find together in war. It will be our crucible”

 

She motioned for him to follow. Hades opened his back, allowing them to bind with him. They would be Basilisk riders, the first in generations. She closed her mind as she considered her promise

 

And what happens when the war ends?

[Exodus]

The spread of shadows inside of the candlelit hall continued to recede, expand and morbidly dance to the sudden stints of battle. There was an utter wash of dark, and with the absence of light, it appeared that the shadows themselves held the most ghoulish of features, quivering wildly as Telperiën fought hard. It was a waltz of darkness thinly illustrated by the fire of a few candlesticks, stirring restlessly under the weight of the indomitable power that coursed the saturated veins of the true Dark Lord Exodus. His presence alone goaded envy down the throats of all creatures and spirits, for what they desired was a command that he alone possessed, one that would not break under the rot of the dark side. "Your confession seems a little hollow, Alcazarin." Exodus converged his attention towards the brash warrior, addressing his gripe over liberation, while accepting the darksaber graciously. "You claim to prefer freedom, and yet you are the furthest thing from. You are a blade to be sharpened and drawn across the backs of my enemies until dulled and tossed for another. Please, save your confessions and preferences, brother. You are in my world, and I am that freedom." Exodus smiled knowingly, understanding the old Sith face, while factually revealing the holes in his confession with a tempered voice of steel. In his youth, the boy known as Malacoda Syn had run alongside some of the fiercest Sith the galaxy had ever seen, and each of them served the same foolish impressions. They became blinded by their power, they overbearingly pronounced their strength and threw their weight against the worlds, and they all fell flat on their face. They severely neglected the building of a solid foundation, a nucleus for both new and old to flourish from. Extinction had fell upon the Sith, and not a single one of them had raised their hand to impede the reality, except he. The King of the Sith remained at ease on his throne, brushing the soft curtain of blood red hairs from his face, still grinning as if he knew much more than what he spoke.

 

 

"I accept your oath however, but you will not shame such an oath twice and live to tell it. You see, I was there when the Alcazarins were rounded, and the proposal was handed to me. They were not called so then, but when I spit on the proposition to conduct business behind the back of our Dark Lord, I knew then just what you all were. Our brotherhood reigned supreme, but we were not without dissension. The Alcazarins true purpose was to overthrow our leader in hopes of a new direction, one that would coincidentally fragment us further, and allow our enemies to revel in our failures. Instead, the Trinity was conceived, and all of our enemies suffocated to death on a nightmare manifested."

 

 

The apprentice jousted harder now, and the language of the Dathomiri escaped her lips. The functionalities in her movement improved, and the control over her vessel moved more seamless. As the incantation mimicked across the expansive halls, Exodus could see the bone that ruptured from her tissue recondition itself in the space of seconds. "Witchcraft". He nodded slowly, brilliant viridescent eyes digressing from the creature before him, to the unraveling apprentice. She heaved callously now, possessed by that anger that he had seen before. She advanced more rapidly, and the combination of her dark magic and the speed with which she labored forward must have stunned the titanic beast because he froze. The lightsaber clutched in her tiny hands now stormed across his thickened skin, horsewhipping the powerful blade across his body, parting his flesh completely from bone. The creature was astounded by the eruption of mutilation that he had quickly suffered, and summoned the will to hoist his axe once last time, before his body fell to pieces. The leverage of the massive weapon felt unbalanced, and his peripheral vision knew exactly why— There Telperiën was now, launching herself from his axe towards him, burying the length of her weapon into his face. He dropped dead, absent of any difficulty, slamming into the floor. Exodus nodded indifferently towards his apprentice, whether she witnessed him doing so or not was of less concern.

 

 

• "You may yet prove yourself useful. Master Oni, just as Telperiën the Golden seeks too." The Dark Lord reciprocated an ingenuous moment, knowing that the Sith Master craved this.

 

Exodus floated the weapon back to what one would assume is it's designer, curious to the permanence of metal that was used to construct it. The hooded man (Camik) that stood behind Oni did not go unnoticed in the least either. The individual remained quiet and well reserved, perhaps more powerful than the one he stood behind, or another ambitious apprentice perchance. The Dark Lord would know the answer to this. The rise and evolution of the Sith Empire was phenomenal and there were none who would dare hinder this machine now, especially not within the ranks of his own kin. "Telperiën. Show me what that other guest is made of. Master Oni, on the other hand, will tell me what he knows of the Alcazarins.."

[Sith X]

Oni grimaced at Exodus' words, the hidden spurs and horns protruding underneath the skin of his forehead as his temper flared ever so lightly at such a dismissal and accusation. His words were never hollow, nor was he a mere tool to be used and discarded. And if Exodus was to believe such a thing, then he would find his thoughts to be that of a fool. Calming himself, Oni's face returning to normal and his glare more stern and serious, he stood up, a growl erupting before the words that flew from his mouth followed. "Hollow, Exodus?" Oni questioned in disbelief, more temperamental than horrified. "You were there that day just as much as I when Nurgle offered us to join him and that coward attacked our former Master. I may have been wrong in thinking that you followed his path as well, but we were not dissidents. Nurgle wanted to stop the infighting, to build a foundation and make us strong. Not usurp. That was never the intent of the Alcazarins.

 

Unlike their forefathers in the Sith, Nurgle wanted to eliminate the need for infighting, the need to prove one better than the rest, the ever growing lust for power. And he created that in the Alcazarin's, whom by nature, could not attack a fellow Alcazarin without it recoiling back upon one's self. And if it hadn't been for that, Oni may have followed the endless cycle. This was why his respect for Nurgle was seemingly unwavering. "That is why I stand before you now, as both Alcazarin and Sith Master, not as a blade to be sharpened and used as you will me, but as an equal in your invisionment. I wish to finish what Nurgle started, to help my brethren move past their infinite hunger and lust, and to find purpose and meaning within the Order. This is why, like Nurgle before me with Lady Dominic, I've come to pledge myself to you. The Blade may be a symbol of what I offer, but I am not just that. I am Sith and Alcazarin.... my chains broken long ago."

 

Taking the Darkstaff from upon his back, Oni began to focus, the air around him growing warmer with each passing second as the air further outward began to crow colder and colder. Within moments, the Darkmetal he held in hand Tibetan to glow red and steam as he let go, it hovering before him as it's shape began to melt away and a blob of molten ore soon took it's place. Turning to his Cathar apprentice, Oni simply smirk, nodding in his approval to Exodus request, and motioning for him to approach the other Apprentice Telperiën. "We are Alcazarins, followers of Darth Rivan and Nurgle's belief that true power resides in solidification rather than fragmentation. That loyalty and brotherhood is more important than power and status. And that without unification, dissent is inevitable."

 

As the Imperial Guards that were near Telperiën began to drop one by one to their knees as the very lifeforce within them began to slightly wane, the Darkmetal now began to separate into two orbs, both beginning to take new shapes as Oni's focus intensified, drawing in the power from around him rather than from him. "It's through this belief that we found that we can harness the Force around us rather than what flows from us, just as you are witnessing now. Yet, even with this power, we cannot harm each other, as we are binded by that very unity."

 

Suddenly Oni releases his focus, the air around them slightly cooler than before beginning to warm up as two items float before Oni, blackening as they cool down in their final form. Before Oni was a singular crown, jagged with fang like cuspids encompassing it's frame both on top and bottom. And beside it was a blade, its hilt endorsing a similar fashion across it's guard with a hole near it's center that could house a lightsaber crystal within and the Sithly Spider Insignia that adorned the throne room and halls encircled at it's bottom. Presenting them to Exodus, the Darkmetal filled not only with the air around them, but the stolen lifeforce as well. "I present to you, Lord Exodus, the "Jagged Crown" and the Blade known as "Abyss" as a token of my commitment and fealty. However, tread lightly, as you will have to feed both with the Force drained from others, lest they begin to feed upon you."

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

Telperiën drew the red-gold blade from the dying behemoth ensuring to hook the tip upwards and guiding a new path that burst from his face in an eruption of magma hot blood and viscera. Thus ended the lowest guard of a high master. Hearing her master’s orders,Telperiën stepped off the hunk of dead flesh she reversed the grip of the lightsabre, spinning it in a short arc to cut loose the head of the axe the monster had wielded and letting it clatter to the floor, white hot from its dissection.

 

uz augšu

 

She whispered, reaching out with the force to grasp the shattered axehead and lifted it behind her as she stalked towards the Cathar acolyte. Her voice was a deep rasp that contradicted the beautiful exterior that she currently wore. She would take the advice from her master and use the Ataru that she had so recently learned from the grasps of death. She would show this apprentice the meaning of fragmentation, that his master boasted so heartily of.

 

So little kitty you serve Nurgle? Did the galaxy not remind you that the old gods are dead?

 

Then she struck, springing forward with a lunging strike with the tip of the gold-red blade, and hurling the burning axhead like an arrow towards the Cathar’s chest.

 

((1))

[Camik Rhonik]

Camik stood in silence listening to the interplay between the two sith masters. This was not his time to posture and try and make a name for himself. This was his master's time. Of course those plans quickly evaporated as the other apprentice was directed to see what he was made of. At least he assumed

 

He looked to his master before engaging though, Some habits were hard to break no matter his will to be free of them. But he need not worry as he received the nod that he hoped for. It was time to stretch his legs and get his blood pumping after being on the ship for so long, not that he hadn’t spent every possible moment he could fighting on the ship.

 

After his first fight in front of his master on Korriban he knew that he needed a lot more work and he had strived to do just that with his new training partner.

 

Seeing his opponent coming at him, he took in his surroundings. There was not as much as he had hopped but it was not like he could pick his battlegrounds. As the axe head snapped at his chest he spun on the balls of his feet at the same time reaching out with the force to give it a nudge to ensure that it did not go into his chest. He did not want to get into a tug of war battle over the axe head which is why he gave it just enough of a nudge and did not push against it.

 

Interesting tactic, though I also have to deal with her lightsaber if i get to close. He thought to himself. He could feel his anger fueling him forward as he snapped a three foot metal stick that had been attached to his shoulders to his hands. He stepped off the centerline from her attack and attempted to bring the metal pole across the inside of her wrist at the same time as he used force, making her the center of gravity for any and all debris in the area. He needed to see how well she could could keep track of her surroundings if he was going to come out of this battle on top. He simply did not have the right tools for defense at the moment. His weapon had a few tricks in it other than being a simple stick but it was not a lightsaber nor could it hold out against one. He was going to have to fight with treachery and guile. Fortunately he had some practice with just that.

 

”Old God, New God they are all the same”

[saberforce]

Tros listened to her words, that war is where he could find kote. The crucible of war held a sound to it that resonated within the deepest part of his soul. Like a sharp ring that begged for attention, he understood now everything that he had felt while on Manda'yaim as he fought alongside his aliit. He understood his dar'buir and his own choices. He knew his path, as it burned deep within him and fueled his own desire. It was Kad Ha'rangir stirring within him the need to return to him, to be tested and tried so that change and growth and happen to his once glorious clan, now turned to shame.

 

Terra walked away from him and towards the Basilisk that was before them. He had somehow missed the giant war droid as he encountered with the one that he would now follow. Even has he had the thought of following her, she motioned for him to follow her. And so he put his buy'ce back on and followed her to climb upon the Basilisk's back with Terra.

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

The first strike died with little exertion from her fellow apprentice and she watched as the axehead embedded itself in an ancient stone pillar behind him. Telperiën hissed and moved her body to the side, switching the lightsabre to a normal grip as the apprentice whipped forward with his polearm, aiming for her wrist. With little concentration, the young Ar-Pharazon lifted her arm and allowed the pole to pass underneath it, continuing its arc to end behind her. She continued her original momentum and slashed a halo of light towards the other apprentice’s midsection.

 

Then could feel a sting on her lower legs and the force stirred around her. Little bits of debris were now coming her way with the force of a gale. With no large chunks to avoid or slash to pieces she was instead peppered with little slashes of rock, which opened up trailing lines of blood on her bare skin. The pain it caused was delicious. She could feel the force pulling at her beckoning her to fall further into its grasp, pulled by her pain and her lust for power. She looked through the force and found the incoming debris, now larger chunks, and ducked below them letting them collide with one another, while letting the tiny debris impact and scrape her.

 

She reached out a hand to the pillar that had been shattered by the impacting axehead and brought the sharp, knife like chunks flying in controlled patterns towards him. She had learned the lesson from before, she did not let go of the shards to let them be easily intercepted, instead the four razor sharp hand sized stones she guided to her target’s back.

 

iznīcini viņu

 

((2))

[Camik Rhonik]

Camik could not help but smile. This fight was becoming fun. It was less a battle of weapons so far but battle of telekinesis. This was not his strongest suit but he had learned fighting with Oni-bot how to fight with it. It was the best tool he had against a lightsaber.

 

The interesting thing was that while the smaller pieces of debris caused his opponent problems the larger pieces seem to be better for her. She could dodge those better. As she reached out with her arm Camik went on the defensive. He was not sure what she was doing but he shifted the gravitational pull from her to a push that was centered around him. It was not enough to stop projectiles, partially when they were being controlled but it did provide enough force to slow them down and give him a better chance to get out of the way.

 

He was lucky enough to put this bubble up, it gave him enough time to get out of the way of most of the attacks, though he misjudged the last one and felt it bite into his arm. He felt the pain though it was a distant thing. The pain in his mind that he clung to was far greater than a stone knife cutting into him.

 

Taking a step back he was no longer in reach of her saber, unless she did something he could not think of, he reached back to the pillar and grasped the discarded axe head and pulled it from the stone pillar, flinging it at her. As it was almost to her he would reach out and in one fluid practiced motion pointed his metal stick at her as it extended out its full length, as tall as he was, with a metal point easily a foot in length. He had no doubt she would be able to dodge the axe head, he wasn’t even attempting to control it after all. This was more about the distraction for his spear.

[Exodus]

The Imperial Sentries that were posted around the hall fell one after the other, their life forces sapped through their teeth and harvested into a form of the metal that had pricked the curiosity of the Dark Lord. “Unification,” the promise was amusing, for the reason that this Alcazarin had just soulfully butchered a batch of his own allies, but the expression was unequivocally understood. Exodus had driven the Sith further in solidification than any other that this Oni had made mention of, which meant he understood better than anyone else, the necessities of sacrifice when the occasion demanded it. Nevertheless, the Spider paid particular interest to the architect of this Darkmetal, his baleful watch probing the secrecy behind such artistry. When the process completed, the presentation of two distinct commodities of the Dark was laid bare before him and elucidated with a humble warning. Exodus outstretched his left forearm, the one opulently sheathed in micronized mandalorian iron, and summoned the items to his cold clutch. The distraction of the sparring apprentices did little to sway his cognizance of these open-handed contributions, for he could feel the steady churning of dark milieu buried into their very construction.

 

"Very well, Lord Oni of the Alcazarins.." The longish blade drifted to lean against the arm of the throne, while the Jagged Crown slowly eased and rested into the hard hands of the summoner. The anomalous metal seemed to breathe into his skin as the two touched, an ethereal flush of sensation that warmed his wintry palms. There was a phenomena of metal and biology; an unnatural chemistry that threaded itself through his body, knotting and fastening itself to his black soul. He closed his eyelids just as a strange zenith of power severed from the fallen men, unhinged like ecstasy into his cerebellum, churning a palette of scorching color inside of his eyes. The rapture of their cries behind the veil of death, played like savory music in his ears, a howling hatred for the blacksmith of this darkmetal. He opened his eyes as the tension of power loosened in his titanic physique, eyesight sedating once more into a cool and treacherous green. He lifted the wreath of Alcazarin metal, the Jagged Crown of the Spider, and set the powerful luxury upon his wolfish mane.

 

"There is much left to do. With the harlotry of the old traitorous Empire, those still faithful to the Sith come in droves. Our military strength has far exceeded expectations, but most of the remaining Sith that would command them have become despicable shells of their former glory. Still, there exists promise—" Exodus motioned towards the two battling apprentices, voracious yet purposeful in their movements. "The Mighty that remain have sworn themselves to these hands," Exodus squeezed the reactive fiber of his crushgaunt, weathering the very thread of the force that gathered between his fingers. "..But the foundations of what these hands have built requires more attention. It has started here on Onderon, the expansion spreads like wildfire and the common-people rally behind our strength. You will need more than parlor tricks to survive this brother, are you prepared? Exodus stared unshakably torward his returned kinfolk, knowing the question to be rhetorical, trusting that this was not just another burden to be carried on his back.

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

Two force users tossing an endless stream of ineffective stones at each other was well played out at this point in Telperiën’s mind. There had been a point in her maneuvering at that was to get within blade distance of this apprentice, so far he had eluded her but now it was her chance. She could feel the force move and knew the axehead was speeding towards her so she rushed forward, launching off her back foot in a rush of force accented speed. Her eyes tracked his extending spear and she let it graze her torso, splitting the skin and muscle along her right flank as she rushed forward. Pain shot up her side but she knew that victory was within grasp. Spears were deadly weapons, but ineffective while at close range. Telperiën had learned that in many scraps on Dathomir. To beat a spear you just had to get under their guard. So that is what she did. The Cathar had taken a step out of range of her sabre but that still was far too close to use a 6 foot spear. But it still hurt, and the blade cut deep along her side.

 

Yet she was still moving forward, utilizing the force and the strength of her body's legs. With one hand she grabbed the shaft midway up its length and with the other attempted to plunge the sabre through his all too close chest. Pulling with the hand attached to the shaft and thrusting the other down its length. Using the force of her movement and the assistance of pulling on the blood soaked spear to drive the point home as the axehead sailed harmlessly past to smack into the wall several feet behind. This would be the crescendo, and she placed the man within her grasp in the force, attempting to pin him in place and stay under his guard. If the tip missed the man's chest she would follow it with a flurry of blows.

tagad mirst

 

((3 Great duel man, good luck ))

[Sith X]

Oni stood before Exodus undauntingly, his amber eyes unwavering. For Oni was who he wished to be, no matter what was thought of him by those he considered brethren nor what he was considered to be. While it was true that he was an Alcazarin by name, he was Sith by heart. Not in the evilest of aspects, but by its philosophy and code. And he was strong in the Force, his understanding of it's nature unorthodox within the Order. But he held little care what others thought, and despite those whom would find him weak within their eyes, they would know his true power in time. For Oni was loyal, even to a fault, when it came to his beloved Order. And as Exodus spoke, his grin was whole heartily.

 

"I agree brother," Oni spoke, his gaze averting toward the dueling pupils. "I see a new era for the Sith upon the horizon, one that can be honed and solidified with each generation of trained Apprentices. Too long have we been so lusted for power and torn asunder by greed and jealousy, that we've forgotten the truth of our code.

 

Oni takes a seat, propping his feet up in a relaxed position as he views onward in pride toward his Apprentice's accomplishments since Korriban. "Take young Camik there, the Cathar. A former slave now finding his chain broken in all aspects. And all I've done was discuss philosophy and teach him that power isn't just found in our weapons, but in ourselves. Oni chuckled, taking a small sip from the flagon as he watched Camik reverse Telperiën's push of the blade and guiding it aside and away. "And it seems he is beginning to understand.

 

Turning toward Exodus, Oni's words take a more serious, yet relaxed tone as if Oni were revealing a part of his true nature to his Lord and brother, something he felt that Exodus had rarely seen within their Order and hoped it would show truth to words that followed. "I may have once been known as the Demon of Nurgle, an assassin that was feared and respected. But you are the first to ever have questioned my loyalty, despite our shared Master, we the children of the Chaos Gods. Very few left can claim that title, and only three of us remain of Nurgle's legacy that I know of. And now here we stand, Masters of ourselves and our power, no matter how our philosophies have grown. You came before me, as i am the last of his Apprentices, just as the others did. But you also know that Nurgle instilled loyalty within us all. So to question me would be to question yourself.

 

Oni chuckled briefly, hoping Exodus would remember and understand his meaning as he coated his throat once more, wiping the alcoholic beverage from upon his lips with his sleeve. Hopefully that will answer your question brother. But if not, know that for the good of the Sith, I will follow you into Chaos its self, and you're more than welcome to test my words if you wish.

[Camik Rhonik]

It seemed that the other apprentice had fought against a spear before, she wanted to get inside his range. It seems that she had forgotten that he had just extended it and therefore could collapse it down. As she grabbed his spear attempting to control it, after she so politely let herself be stabbed by it, Camik did the exact opposite thing she was likely suspecting he would do.

 

He dropped it.

 

He was not going to get into a tug of war fight over a weapon, partially one that was so inferior to her own weapon. A simple block or strike with the lightsaber would leave him with two weapons and that would do him no good.

 

With that last strike she was in far worse shape than Camik was, which put time on his side. He needed to stay out of reach of her lightsaber but he could control the environment to help him do so, he had been doing such things this entire time. If she tried to wield the saber and spear she would find it to be bulky and unwieldy, the weapons did not meld very well together, the lengths and balance were simply too different. This would mean she would have to drop one, and Camik was betting that would be his spear, allowing him to add a sharp piece off metal to add to the environment that he was throwing at her.

 

As soon as she would drop his spear, assuming she did, he would reach out with the force and begin attacking her with it. Sure it was clumsy and unwieldy to do something with only the force to control it but when attacking at someones back you did not need to be precise. If she changed directions to try and deflect the weapon he could charge in with speed assisted by the force and attack with his natural weapons, his claws. The same claws that he had used to rip out his masters throat.

 

If she tried to control the weapon with the force Camik could use the discarded axe head to distract her, or use the Force to attract all of the debris to her again. As she attempt to attack him, he would use the force to nudge her hands just a bit to the side and use his footwork to dodge and stay out of reach.

 

 

She was bleeding and he had to stay out of her reach while attacking her from afar. This was not how he pictured this fight going, but it could be worse.

[Exodus]

The Old Gods were weak. Exodus held no tethers to the ilk of rotted men and women who professed themselves as heralds to a power that now dwindled in the wind. Each of them had tasted the dirt and fell before lesser men, becoming nothing more than a memory to the fanatics that served them. “You will have opportunity enough to prove it, Dear Oni.” The swindle of his smooth dialect spelled more than what the words themselves meant, for it was his nature to question all things, and that would never change for anyone. The Alcazarin spoke with a conviction that seeped from his grisly flesh nonetheless, an incessant assertion of his allegiance that would need to be tested by the superior strength of time. To obey the words of the unfamiliar man alone, would be a fool's gander, one that would see his Sith Empire collapsed overnight. He would hear his brother loud and clearly, but this Assassin trusted no one.

 

The Dark Lord shed himself from the comfort of the decadent wood-worked throne, standing upright to watch the culmination of the battle between apprentices. The oily black of his spider-silk cloak fell around his calves, absorbing and refracting the petty bounces of light that fell from the chandeliers. Gold and rich olive slits were plaited into his exalted accoutre, championing the comely physical features of the Spider. It came as a surprise that a man so overly endowed with corruptible power, remained unmarred and unsparingly aesthetic, drowning out the inevitable taint of a power more monstrous than most. Shouldering such deep and spellbinding physical qualities loaned itself to the benefit of his silver tongue, sharing an electric eloquence that could charm even the most devout Jedi to fall for the inebriation of the Dark Side. His secret to this would remain as such, and as he stood there imperially dissecting these newborn of the Sith, he wondered exactly what the two of them would become.

 

Exodus placed his left foot forward, his heel lowering dramatically until the pressure of his weight bore down onto the tips of his leather boot. In the next moment, he vanished. The air that surrounded where he had stood, inadvertedly lashed out with a bitter draft. His acceleration was uncharted as he moved the distance of around fifteen feet in what seemed to be a blink of an eye. The dark mantle of his clothes flared outward, screaming the appearance of a thousand crows in desperate flock. His speed alone fetched him inside of the small space spread from the Cathar to the Dathomiri, capitalizing on a shatterpoint manifestation that nestled itself inside of his far-reaching web. The Dark Lord inhaled sharply, and raised both of his arms high, angled towards each apprentice. Their forward momentum died immediately, all weapons and control of telekinesis falling and failing without hesitation. Exodus slowly closed both of his hands in a grip-like gesture, squeezing telekinetically at the throats of both Camik and Telperiën. The pair of them were dragged off of their feet, no more than a half meter from the ground, smothering their blood flow and oxygen circulation. The execution of the dual force-choke was relatively simple, and held long enough to butcher the combative adrenaline that seethed inside both fighters. The Dark Lord sustained the strangulation without a trace of emotion on his face, a little longer than expected, and then longer than that. Then he released, letting both individuals crash into the floor below them, sucking violently for air.

 

 

• "..Enough."

 

 

 

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

 

RULING ON THE DUEL

 

 

Spar Evaluation

 

 

Enjoyed the little back and forth between the two of you (Camik & Telperiën). Quite frankly, the two of you would have benefited from a duel that was not restricted by post count, and it would have made more sense because of the lack of options afforded to both characters this early on. You both wrote well, and improvement to your individual writing styles are becoming more obvious by the post. I encourage you both to explore more descriptive avenues with your characters in the realm of your species, emotions and their emotional triggers, as well as your youth.

 

Camik, your approach was more defensive than anything which I can understand because of the differences in weapons available. It was good to see your character give a very brief analysis to the situation in your first post, almost feeling out the opponent as best as you could with the little that you had. I feel like your post set the tone in terms of preparedness moving forward, and counter-punching what the opposition had in store. However, the challenge quickly became; "How coordinated is this Cathar with telekinesis and is it feasible to see so much of it exercised in this fight?" The theme of this ran throughout the three of your posts, utilizing telekinesis as much as you could, with extremely little written experience in that prior to this. Granted, I did like the fact that the debris was deemed smaller and still had an impact on the opposition, but what type of debris are we talking about? And where did it come from? These type of details can be crucial when it comes to evaluating the authenticity of what is happening, and how dramatic your maneuvers really are. Perhaps this was debris from the previous battle, where the floors were chewed into and small cutting blades were knocked over when the in-house slaves took flee. You did well by acknowledging the environment, but you did not take small liberties to turn opportunities in your favor on that front. Furthermore, I liked that you conceded to some damage, but a suggestion moving forward is to really exploit your racial advantages. When I think of a Cathar, I think of a complete beast of an animal. If there was a wound to it's flesh, I imagine a furious roar that could shake and disorient on some type of level (even if insignificant). Cathars are known to be exceptional in the close-range, and of course that card was off the table for you, but you do have a Blaster Pistol at your disposal. If in your last post, you pulled that piece from your trousers and blasted the ever-aggressive Dathomiri in the face, there would be some strong points for calculation and utilization of an ace-up-your-sleeve type of move. All in all, really excited about you moving forward and I'm sure your learning curve will be a lot easier than most I've had the pleasure of reading.

 

Telperiën, you held the aggressive approach, which was easy to see because of the immediate advantage in weaponry. What I enjoyed about your side of the coin was that, Telperiën continued forward no matter the cost. She pushed the agenda, and conceded to damage as it came with realistic flair. The challenge for me here was the sheer difficulty it takes to make effective use of the lightsaber, and the inexperience that she as a character has with such a tool. The maneuvers she exercises are not advanced in the least, and as she dispatched an NPC before with said weapon in practice, she is given that lieniecy. Exodus is unaware of her prowess with the weapon prior to their eventual meeting, and the NPC before was a measure of that. I do love the imagery of the initial pull and heave of the giant blade of the axe in the beginning, I just wish there was more description put into the struggle to do such a thing. What I mean is this; both apprentices have barely touched the idea of telekinesis to my knowledge, but I could see the Dathomiri being able to draw upon the relatively large weapon better than the Cathar could by way of her background. Instead of the visualization being her dragging it across the floor menacingly (Dragging because her pull and heave of large objects is still difficult at this level to some degree), with sparks showering her wake. She lifts it and throws the thing like an arrow, which exemplifies precision and sheer speed. Her makeover into a force of the dark is shown as she stalks her prey and continues to press forward, all of which I enjoy. Her pacing and acknowledgement of angles, as well as movement and deliberation of overused tactics, kept it fresh. It was clear she wanted to close the distance, and accepted damage whether willing or unwilling, to get what she wanted.

 

 

Congratulations Telperiën, edging this fight slightly for me.

 

 

I will definitely enjoy working with both of you moving forward, and I hope to see the struggle of growth more apparent in both of your writings. The most enjoyable part of this early stage is the constant failures, and small breaks of succession that amount to actually learning and self-discovery. Camik, if you pulled that blaster out last minute, like I anticipated you would, the nod could have gone to you instead. It is the only weapon listed on your person in your sheet and that is why I thought you were saving the surprise. Please, do the Cathar justice and begin to really carve out your character's personality and racial differences through his growing youth. Telperiën, I ask you to do the same and not just list her anger and her enjoyment of it, but help us understand why she is now so excited when it comes to the pain and injuries that befall her. She is still young of mind and heart, and fear of things are just as exciting to read because of the fact that they are just starting out. I am no judge of character or how to write, these are just suggestions that you two may take or leave all the same. Read your posts and allow it to make sense to you in context to what your character is, and how early it is in their 'career'.

 

[Sith X]

The aroma of distrust permeated from upon the Dark King as he spoke to Oni, so much so that it would linger in the air even for moments after Exodus' departing. But Oni sat there, in this moment, with a smile upon his face as he noticed this, the disease that mutated him into what he was granting a boost to his five senses. And it was okay, because Oni knew all too well that actions spoke louder than words, and he would prove it nevertheless. Such was the demon that bore the name Darth Oni. "As you wish Lord Exodus." His words carrying sincerity as he watched the Dark King rise from his throne and disappate, his will carrying himself toward the dueling pupils.

 

Oni too stood and began his trek toward Camik and Telperiën, the Sith Master's stride slow and long, almost elegantly dreadful. His eyes began to flicker between brown and the overcoating of onyx as he progressed. The very air around him began to warm and heat before it stirred and swirled within, the Force feeding the leech as it strode forward, and the atmosphere almost seemed to play a frightful melody with each step he made, his devilish grin never leaving his face. Oni watched as Exodus reappearance near the Apprentices, his arms outstretched in a display of condemning power as both felt the Dark Lords power, a power Oni had only seen once before, though then it was milder in comparison, and he reveled in seeing it first hand once again. His face contoured, refiguring it's form as the horns once again adorned his forehead just beneath the skin and became as strong as durasteel, his cuspids elongated, showing the truest form of Oni's identity as he stopped just short of the last step. In an almost unified symphony, as Exodus' words escaped his mouth, a primitive roar erupted from Oni followed by a chug from the flagon as he simply stared, his true form apparent.

 

"Yes. Enough.... Camik." Oni spoke in a calmly tone, his words managing to growl themselves out from him throat without hinderance by the elongated cuspids. "You have done well today, as have you young Dathomiri. Take pride in yourselves, and know this. If you had not pleased our Dark Lord, you would not be alive to hear my words."

 

OOC:

 

Duel Results

 

As we agreed OOC, I'm going to keep my ruling unbiased and truthful. With that, here we go. First off, congrats guys. You threw what you had at your disposal toward each other, and defended in very creative ways. And I agree much with Exodus in his assessment. Other than the usual grammar, punctual, and vocabulary mishaps, it was well read. But remember guys, those mistakes can cost you duels. Trust me, I made quite a few myself, and still likely will. Just doublecheck everything when posting within a duel, and make sure it flows to your satisfaction at least. Then you can honestly say you've done your very best, and can take pride whether in defeat or win. That being said, as Exodus pointed out, watch your realism. But don't put yourself at a disadvantage either. Find a reasonable balance of power you believe your character should posses, and heighten it just slightly. For instance, with Camik, when Telperiën lunged at you with the axe head, you should have posted struggling with it more or taken slight damage (IE nicked your fur) as you spun away, or even possibly used her incoming momentum against her by combining what little telekinesis ability you held with what she had given. And likewise with Telperiën, when you attacked Camik, though slightly more skilled as I've taken from what Exodus mentioned, at least struggled more with such heavy weight. Even at a Lord's level, it would require almost all of your focus to throw something so large(if I'm gauging the size correctly). But that's why I say find a balance of where you think your character's power should be and raise it one bar. Other than that, you guys were awesome to read. Creative, intuitive, and even fair toward your opponents. Great quality to have as an RP'er.

 

That being said, and since my ride is here and ive got to clock out and go,and in my honest opinion, Telperiën won. Grammar, Punctuality, Vocabulary, IC level of skill, and IC believability was a bar higher than Camik in this case. But either way, both of you please take pride in yourselves. You did extremely well considering your level of skill IC and writing ability OOC, and I am proud of you guys myself. Take mine and Exodus' suggestions and grow from it, and you'll give even us a proper run for our money even in your current IC levels.

 

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

Telperiën gasped as the wind was taken from her lungs by the strength of her master’s will.His grip tightened on her neck and a strange sensation stirred in her new body. What could that mean? Did this girl like that sensation? How strange. Telperiën thought as she dropped to the floor in a kneeling position. She listened to her and the other master’s critique and wrote their words on her soul. She would learn from this fight, and for now she would extend her friendship to the catlike Cathar apprentice.

 

She extended a black gloved hand to the man and pulled him to his feet.

 

“Thank you for the fight friend, I am sure we will meet blade to blade again in time.”

 

She turned to her master and bowed low,

 

“What now is your will?”

[Camik Rhonik]

Camik could feel the Collar slam around his neck. There was nothing there physically but that did not mean his mind's eye did not see it. As the metaphyscial Collar cut off his air flow and dragging him into the air Camik struggled and snarled. He fought with everything he had. This was not the fight he was just having where it was fun this was a fight of inward demons made real. He looked at Exodus with hate in his eyes and the truth was if he had the power to kill him at that moment he would have.

 

Fortunately he did not, though that did not stop him from trying. He reached out with the Force for his spear to try and throw it at Exodus but found that his concentration was not great enough as the blackness closed in around his eyes.

 

Then he was free. He was on the ground and able to breathe. The Collar was no longer around his neck. Then he found a black gloved hand there to help him up. He took it and thanked her, hearing something in the back of his mind about friend and a latter fight, that was information he would process later, but his eyes never left the one that would put a Collar around his neck. He had seen the truth in that moment. This was a man that would not hesitate to put Camik back in chains and for that he could not be trusted. He would learn from him but he could not trust him. That moment taught him that Camik was not strong enough so he would take anything that he could to get stronger at this point but he would also keep a wary eye for when that Collar would try and close around his neck again.

[Exodus]

The footfalls of the Spider carried him between the two apprentices, and passed the several bodies that had been warped of all life.   The skin on their faces shriveled as loosely as raisins, and mucus ran sourly from their open orfices. "Amusing," Exodus thought. He moved unerred and without remorse for their demise, for the war was upon them and soon the rain would shower down the bloodshed of his enemies. The darkmetal blade lifted from the armrest of the throne and whizzed into his possession as his footsteps neared the exit. The crown still sat on the comfort of his wild mantle, barbarically illustrating the jagged features of a creature that ironically represented his venomous youth.

 

"..Lord Oni. The Alcazarins may have been founded on the ideologies of a true brotherhood, but the secrecy of their foundation was testament to a far greater betrayal. The division and collapse of the Sith, and an usurper to fetch the throne was the heart of it. Do not feed from one hand, and not ask what the other conceals. If it is solidarity you seek, you will find that my hand is the steadiest of all the Kings before me, one that ushers respect from the fiercest of Sith. In time, you will come to understand this."

 

Exodus pushed the double doors of the old sanctum apart, a place that was sanctioned for demolishment in the days to come, to make way for a stately citadel to reign. The settlement of the Sith and the Black Sun reinforced the need for a fresh framework that would elapse the capital Iziz. First however, there was a war on their heels and he would be sure to wipe the floor with his enemies before the restructuring of Onderon would commence.

 

"Telperiën. Prepare yourself. The war has begun."

 

 

// Exodus exits. (Next post I have with him will be time-skipped ahead of the BETA forum. You're all free to do as you please until we start the Warriors Storyline. Sorry, posted on phone.)

[Zalis Krales]

The Supremacy blasted out of hyperspace above Onderon in a fashion that almost demanded attention. It was very fitting for Zalis make her way to Onderon, as it was a place that held a few spots that could really strengthen the credit flow for Black Sun. Rumors had it that Malgan Market in Iziz held a decent black-market trade, and a few other spots that would allow for Zalis to make shop. This visit would end up proving very worth her time if she could establish a good connection. Plus, she needed to see Delta to pass of some field test weapons for him to play around with.

 

The Supremacy landed and Zalis was quick to make her way off the ship, accompanied by XP7, LP4 and LP9, leaving WP6, WP5 and LP8 on the ship. As she walked off and into the main streets, she was stopped by the dock authorities to check her starport visa.

 

“Ma’am, we need to make sure that you’r-you’re … Zalis. Face of Black Sun… Killer of men… I didn’t think you held any inte-“ “Queen of vice.”

 

There was a flash of confusion in the man face as he looked at Zalis very puzzled by her interruption. Zalis offered up a smile to the dazed and confused man.

 

“It’s actually, Zalis, face of Black Sun, killer of men, the queen of vice. I interrupted you, from the top.”

 

It was then that Zalis gave the man a wink. The man could only keep his stupid confused face which only made her more upset with him. After a few seconds passed by and the man couldn’t get over his stupid face, she began to move past him.

 

“Alright, I don’t have time for this. LP9, deal with him and whatever he needs. I need to find Delta.”

 

She was very intentional with looking up and down every shop keeper and what they had on their displays. They would be a very good indication on who the shopkeepers were and if they would be the source for her to follow for the black-market. Upon making it halfway up the street of the market, she pulled out her commlink and sent Delta a message.

 

“Hey Delta, I have a present for you. Where are you at?”

[Sith X]

Oni sat in silence as he gauged his Apprentice's emotions, watching the ferocity of the beast's mind come to life at the mere grasp of his throat, causing the Sith Master to lower in gaze. Such things would not do in the eyes of Oni, and an idea briefly crossed his mind as a means to rid the Cathar of such beastality. As his gaze returned toward the three, now noticing Exodus beginning to leave, his form returned to normal and he bowed momentarily as the Dark King mentioned his name.

 

But what followed was shock and horror, something that left even a Sith Master such as Oni taken aback and left in stupor. His mind quickly reeled it's self in, trying to register what had jist been spoken, and leaving it wanting as it tried to make sense of Exodus' words. He didn't want to believe it, yet, even in darkness he could feel the truth of the words. And in a singular felled moment, Oni questioned his entire belief system. And by the time he had gathered his senses, Exodus had departed.

 

Shaking the words from his mind, at least for the moment, Oni turned to Camik. There was always a time and place for self doubt and redirection of thoughts, yet now was not one of them. He would take a moment to further his Apprentice's training, and focus solely on that... for now. "Come Camik, it's time for more training. Meet me outside the palace."

 

Without another word, Oni turned on his heel and exited the Throne Room, his heading toward a central courtyard near the rear of the Palace. Try as he might, despite his training, Exodus' words still lingered and behind the replaced mask, anger encompassed his face. But for now the thoughts would remain oblivious, feathered to the far reaches of his subconscious until the right time presented its self for him to release them. For now Camik and his training needed his full focus.

 

Once Camrik followed, unobservant of Oni having collected a collar from the deceased guards during his exit, would find Oni's speed and strength nearly impossible to resist and completely overpowering as the Master attacked his Apprentice and shackled the slave collar around the Cathar's enlarged neck. And yet, any observer of the Force would have quickly noticed that Oni had never reached upon its use as he pinned the young one with absolute and relative ease. Rising off Camik, Oni offered his hand to lift his Apprentice, despite the repercussions he knew likely would follow.

 

"You have much to learn Camik," Oni hissed, his tone firm yet understanding. "The collar holds no chain, yet will remain until I will it's release. Are we clear Apprentice?"

 

Oni knew his words were harsh, but there was a lesson to be learned here, just as he himself had to learn. Though, in truth, Oni's lesson was a much harder one to learn, and the taint upon his soul bore witness to it's testimony. He did not do this out of cruelty as many Masters would, but as a means to get the end result he wished. If Camik was to be truly free, bindings could never be his weakness.

[Terra]

As the humid air of Dxun whirled about the Basilisk, Terra could feel a tremor reverberate through Hades. After millenia, the old beast was finally tasting freedom. A warmth began to creep up her legs where they were maglocked into the superstructure of the metallic hide. It was a pleasurable feeling, the gentle caress of liquid, and with it came a deep feeling of hallowed spirituality.

 

Bloodborne Madness.

 

Terra’s eyes flashed and the world collapsed, the broken souls grabbing onto her mind and dragging her into spirit. Their touch was warm, not the rasping cold she was used to with the undead. Her eyes burned from tears that were not hers

 

Angel come and save me. Angel, come and help me. I’m afraid.

 

She was laying in a coursing river of blood. Sticky. It carried with it the weight of lives destroyed. It felt as though she was being strangled by its flow. A wicked hand drew her by her flaxen hair from the depths. Terra sputtered meekly and tried to clear her eyes from the obscuring flood of crimson. A voice with a strange accent crawled through her mind

 

Did you ever apologize for the thousands of lives you destroyed and terrorized?

 

The young assassin spat out a mouthful of blood and definitely answered

 

Never. They were destined for shaping, for change. Or to end. They were mine to do with as I pleased.

 

You spun a web of destruction that was formless. Useless.

 

I gained credits. I gained fame.

The voice laughed and wrenched her hair towards it. It was a powerful looking creature, all teeth and violence. It stood at the front of an army of contorted beasts. A pit formed in her stomach, a ball of ice that began to turn her blood cold.

 

What good are those when the machines of commerce have fallen silent…

 

A sneer

 

When all those that speak your name are dead?

Armoured hands grabbed her shoulders, wrestling her away from the advancing horde. Terra was dragged to her feet and she observed an endless line of warriors. All dressed in beskar’gam with shining T-visors.

 

Mandalore! Let’s kill them all. We must not let Crucible Fall!

 

Terra blinked away the vision and turned to Tros as Hades began to take them into the upper atmosphere, setting the navicomputer towards their new base.

 

“We go to Qat Chrystac to start our Crusade. We have a galaxy to save.”

[Delta73]

“Hey Delta, I have a present for you. Where are you at?”

Where am I at? Girl im trying to get to a prisoner to see if I can get any.

 

The commlink buzzed again annoyingly and cut Delta’s ambitions to see the oh so sadly now childless and very single and alone miss Jaina Jade Skywalker in her cell or where ever the dark lord was keeping her. But alas, that would not be. For now Delta strode through the depths of the Super Star Destroyer Black Scarab, his bodyguard and he dressed smartly in black Katarn armour with crimson capes that turned the heads of any female in the area. With a twitch of his eye, Delta activated a return comm to Zalis, the head of the financial and money making wing of the Black Sun.

 

“Yes ma’am, I am aboard the Scarab, How can I help? I hear we have lost Bespin?”

 

_________________

 

On the surface, shuttles were retrieving the thousands of Alliance prisoners and securing them for transport to holding facilities at the Black Sun complex next to Iziz. Its large sensor array peaking above the treeline some one hundred meters in the air. It was busy beaming coordination data from the fleet to the surface, as well as tightbeaming holonet recordings of embedded Red Dawn and Black Sun reporters to Ord Mantell.

[Exodus]

The washout of the Alliance and Jedi armada spread across the black of space. The skies burned with a charred chalk while starship debris began to drown beneath the Onderonian clouds. Turbulent atmospheric pressures chiseled at the small shells of the life pods that had scattered from the battlefield, and now descended into their worst hell, the rushed metal of their chariots rocking viciously before their disastrous plummet. There would be no survival for them, there would be no escape. Most of the opposing survivors fell just outside of the comfort of the walled Iziz, dangling by the neck from the open circuitry of their life pods, or by the overgrown vines that suffocated the labyrinths of forestry from all around. The order had been given to launch a series of reconnaissance teams, patrols of Sith Troopers that would stake large woodens posts where the survivors had landed and pin them alive until they had bled completely out, the carnivorous creatures that stalked nearby would have their meals. The Galactic Alliance and those that were sworn to their service were offered no mercy, especially those that had crashed inside of the city. Black Sun and other allied forces captured droves of men and women, and moved them like cattle into confinement for processing. The Sith Empire openly and indiscriminately butchered the enemy survivors like gutted fish, and to the favor of a frenzied Onderonian public that had been mere moments from an all-out war. As promised, this planet had been covered in the permanence of greater powers, and not by any measure of good-will, but because this is where the Axis had chosen to seed the future of their campaign. Most of the citizens would applaud the means of their justice, others understood and turned a blind eye to the steep violence.

 

Repairs and restructuring to the fleets would begin after a thorough assessment of damages had been communicated across the board. Salvage ships would do their part to recover valuables, and coordinate with the remainder of the Axis to ensure maximum efficiency during this entire process. The project to continue to build this planet would not be cheap, and although they had wiped the floor with those that would try to hamper their progress, the cost of war was never mild. Soon, the compounded factions would need to satiate their treasuries by means of a source outside of this planet, and that time would come sooner than later. In the meantime, development of a new Sith citadel and an orbital station to fuel the Axis were in the works.

 

The four moons were full and bold in the night sky, their light sparkling across the lapping waters that mapped itself around the capital, offering their faint glow in the spaces between the fires of the encamped Sith Troopers stationed just outside the walls. Travelers, pilgrims, and merchants wove their way between these camps, an unspoken tension filling the air between their paces, heading into Iziz. Some challenged the awkward tensions with idle chatter, while others drowned it in drink, but the past few days offered little in the way of sleep for a great many of them. The Jedi and the Galactic Alliance were rumored to be on the aggressive, but this had proven it. This was unprecedented and signaled unrest amongst many of the inhabitants of Onderon. There were many that had believed the Sith to be untrue in their occupation of the planet, dishonest with their ambitions as always, and convincingly they had brutalized the enemies that had knocked on their front door. The Onderonian populace knew now that they had made their bed with an irrepressible evil, and could not feel more invincible in doing so. Little did they know, it would turn out to be a gift and a curse, with a toll that would begin to sap the humanity out of those who did not keep a watchful eye on this marriage of the people.

 

The Sith Legion was on the move, en masse, and if the reports were true they were bloodthirsty in their hunt. They would make examples of their enemies, and their audacity would be repaid in full. The legion spurred with cheer inside of the city however, beneath His temple, and under His watchful eyes. Their Deliverer, Dark Lord Exodus and his champions were praised by word of mouth as far as the city could stretch, and inside the other walled cities scattered across the planet, their tale of dominance spread. An elusive H-type Nubian yacht slithered from the monstrous Scarab, descending planet-side by way of escort from the formidable Omega Squadron. Their itinerary would lead them towards the reports of a former high-ranking Jedi captive, but as they cracked the atmosphere, the reflective yacht slowed to a slow and soothing decline through the skies. There was another captive on this very ship, one still wedded to the perverse ideologies of the Jedi, and this one finally began to stir awake. The holding cell was small and extremely dark, perhaps a reasonable ten by ten feet box, with stoutly reinforced walls. The woman known as Jaina Jade Skywalker lay bare, only pieces of torn fabric to cover her shame. The sweat and grease that patched her skin did little to impede her physical identity, and she was given no washing in the event of her capture. She remained sprawled on the cold metal of the floor, a slaving collar attached tightly around her neck, with a pair of demons that watched her as she slept. Exodus and his apprentice stood over her, waiting.

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

Violence wept from the planet below as the Sith and Black Sun began their slaughter. It was hedonistic in nature, sinful in its pleasure, and it rolled off the planet in thick waves through the force. Pilots, soldiers, Sith, and the beloved Onderonian Defense Force all delighting in the afterglow of the mindmeld, rebuilding their husks with unspeakable acts of terror and violence. Purging from themselves forever the illusion of good. The cup of wroth was offered to the people of Onderon and they took it with both hands and drank deep, the blood of the once valiant Galactic Alliance combined forces spilling across the pages of Onderonian history to soak to the bindings. Important captives were led through the streets of Iziz before being sacrificed on the steps of the palace in a crimson fountain that bubbled through the streets, down sewer pipes, to stain the very depths of the planet with the blood of the Galactic Alliance. The planet was now wholly sith and this ritual would open a wound in the force like had not been seen since malachor.

 

The Jedi too were cruelly treated before death, tortured and executed, apprentices before their masters, and knights before the few Jedi masters captured alive. All screaming and tearing at their slow wounds, hooped up on forcefed amphetamines to keep them from passing out too soon. They then too were put to death on the steps of the Royal Palace their souls torn from their bodies by the Sith Executioners. Lightsabres beside blasters forming great cairns of plastoid, duraloid, durasteels, and Kyber in the central market. It was an orgy of violence that would last weeks and all recorded by the holonet cameras of the Black Sun. Some recording to make quick credits from darkholo websites where they would sell the especially dark executions or murders. Some Galactic Alliance officers were forced into confessions of warcrimes before executions, all which would be stored for later use.

 

Telperiën felt it all, let it slip past her defenses to feed her growing lust for final victory as she stared down at the helpless Jedi Council Member. She wanted to assist in whatever sacrifice would occur for this lady but for now she waited, watching. Sitting on her haunches and letting the fury of the planet below fill her with strength.

[Camik Rhonik]

The party seemed to be breaking up but that was ok with Camik, his master said the magic words to him. He needed to train to get stronger. He could still feel the remnants of the pressure on his neck and it made him itch. Despite this he held back and kept his hands to his side.

 

As his master indicated for him to follow he did, unsure he should be suppressing his emotions. Throughout the academy he was told time and time again to embrace his emotions but for some reason it felt wrong to hold onto his anger at the moment.

 

Taking a breath he released his anger. He had not forgotten, that he wouldn’t do but releasing his anger was was more of living in the moment. He did not need the power it came with as he followed his Master.

 

If he had been holding on to the anger he might have moved quick enough to block the collar being snapped around his neck. Most likely not but at this point his brain was not processing the difference in their skill or speed. The anger flared in his eyes as his hands reached for the collar, only to stop as his listened to his Master speak.

 

He accepted the offered hand thought the hatred had not left his eyes. It seemed that no matter how far he traveled his fate was never to be changed. The strong took the weaker for their slaves and the sith was no different.

 

”I understand Master” he said with no emotion, his voice showed a different story than his eyes but this was a game he had played for most of his life. He would have to bid his time until he broke this collar.

 

”What would you like of this one?”

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

The Fight of Wrath: Pain’s Caress

 

Channel us brother… Make our strength a beacon…

 

Hayley screamed into the swirling storm of lightning she had formed. She could feel its touch upon the Massassi, and his pain fed her own. Her every nerve blazed with white heat. The young girl did not feel the outpouring of her own blood as it coursed down her arms to stain the ground with its kiss.

 

The azure light of the lightning began to change to crimson. Into this fury she was pouring her entire life.

 

As pain began to consume her, a bright light struck through it. Death’s consuming embrace desired her and it brought forth the tapestry of her life. Memories of her childhood. The light laughter of her sister, her songs that had carried her through the abuse and tragedy. Ebony braids bouncing as she danced to cheer up a young Hayley, to remove the fear for sleep to come.

 

You were so brilliant. A star that shone in the darkness.

 

The girl’s smile shattered, a vibroblade bisecting her jaw. Screams of agony and desperation. She had cried out to the light that night of doom, and had received only the loss of innocence and enslavement.

 

I was not strong enough to save you then

 

The lightning faded away and was replaced by the screams of true rage. Energy cracked the ground, burning a path of reddish flame towards the Massassi

 

I’m strong enough now.

 

The demons howled around them, focusing their furour through the latticework of the Bleeding Kyber, bringing the pain and anger through the roots, concentrating them into the heart of the ship.

As he heard the words the Massassi replied with violence. As the energy cracked the ground, burning a path of reddish flame towards the Massassi, he was undeterred and continued through the flames, using the Force to fasteners his movements as he ran through, allowing the fire to singe his clothing and in some parts set them alight.

 

It was worth the risk and price of victory.

 

While the demons were fascinating, and they're howls enthralling, Karys held only a singular focus. The channeling of his Wrath and Hayley's Pain. He came for her like a demonic avatar, a visage of black obsidian in lidless eyes and drapped in crimson red skin and armoured head to toe. His saber a extension of his Wrath. As the dance of death continued, Karys felt the howls of the dead, screaming in endless torment and his enemies fear as they retreated.

 

When the dance hit its cresecendo, as the two flashed a final time, the Massassi channeled all they had in one final push of his own. Channeling one final overpowering push as his Wrath and her Pain fed the battlemind and bled into the ship's dark heart. The next moments were a blur but at its end Karys knew. Victory was theirs this day. Retribution was the Sith's and redemption was his.

 

He had finally earnt his place and gained the respect of a few no doubt.

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Timeskip after Beta Onderon battle*

 

"You are free to make whatever choice you want, but you are not free from the consequences of the choice. The jedi and their allies learnt this lesson well that day above Onderon, as countless ships were put to the slaughter and I did my own part to fuel the battlemind that fed our allies. My Wrath and Hayley's Pain gave our friends the will to resist and drove them to defy fate.

 

As the battle ended our enemies experienced what true pain was. What endless suffering awaited any who would encroach upon the Sith and deny our purpose. Thousands were put to the stake, our Dark Lord's retribution. Yet it was not this that would catch my attention that day, no it would be him." - Karys Narat iv-Adas

 

As the battle died down, the enemy retreated and prisoners were taken, Karys Narat iv-Adas finally brought himself out of the intense focus he had placed himself in and withdrew his Wrath back within, caging the beast. His darker half, Darth Akheron. He looked upon Hayley and her injuries, no doubt she would need medical attention. Given the cuts she self-inflicted and the loss of blood would need replacing.

 

As such he did the honourable thing. In her weakened state he lifted her, and proceeded to carry the young woman in her weakened condition to the medical wing. He spoke, calm and collected, his eyes yellow like two lidless suns as they were supposed to be. He now respected and admired her more than ever before, she was like him a warrior. And fought bravely with honour. He left One and Two to clear up the rest of the mess caring not what the did after.

 

He started to view her as somewhat the sister he never had. That thought allowed a brief smile to cross his lip as he spoke, hoping she would hear it as he put her on the medical bed and allowed the medics to tend to her wounds.

 

"You fought well and with honour, you have won my respect. And my loyalty if ever you have need, you need only ask it and I shall answer. You know me better than any now, Hayley my sister of the force. Rest well you need it."

 

On those words he left her be as the medics undressed her, turning away as she was uncovered. He was a gentleman in that respect. It was on that moment, he was unceremoniously disrupted when his com unit went off. It was the commander from below.

 

"Yes what is it Commander? I'm a little busy so make this quick."

 

The commander sounded a little concerned as he replied.

 

"Firstly I am glad your alive sir, we were all worried down here. Sorry to disturb you, we wouldn't unless it was important but there has been a incident. We have been receiving various reports of rifle fire during the battle. From what appears to be a individual of skill...they took out several enemy troopers who escaped with ease and quickly. That is all well.and good but they appear to have not stopped and are now targeting friendlies, its like they are possessed. We think it might be a residual effect of the battlemind. We have been trying to find them but can't seem to do it effectively and was hoping you might be able to assist. Given your gifts."

 

Karys was not amused but he could see that his skills would be of use in that regard. Besides the battle was won, it wasn't like he had anything to do at the moment so he decided to oblige.

 

"I see. I'll be down shortly, this better not be a waste of my time or someone will pay for it."

 

On that the com shut off, the Massassi headed towards the hangar bay where he quickly commandeered a shuttle to the surface and went through the safety corridor. Informing the correct authority of his impending arrival and departure and letting Sheog know where he was going and that Hayley was safely in the medical wing before his departure. The last thing he wanted was a angry sith hutt master on his case.

 

Not that he feared him, but it was a inconvenience.

 

What he saw through the shuttle viewport as the pilot flew them to the corridor was awe inspiring. Several large ships hung outside and debris lay everywhere. Bodies floated frozen in time and space, several hit the windown before floating away into the abyss. It amused Karys greatly. It was a victory well earnt he felt and retribution had been justly served to the transgressors.

 

Arriving below, he was greeted by the commander again who gave a crisp salute. Prisoners werebeing carted away in droves and led it seemed into the forests around Iziz for punishment.

 

"Sir. We think his in the terrain paralleling the main road as that's where the shots have been coming from but that's all we have I'm afraid."

 

The Massassi glared at the man with dagger eyes before answering.

 

"It's better than nothing. I'll take it from here, proceed as you were"

 

On that the commander gave a nod before going about his duties. He had a lot if work to do, of that he was certain given the influx of prisoners. As he walked towards the location the commander had specifiedx weaving between the crowd of civilians, military and now prisoners...giving the prisoners a extra shove when needed, he couldn't help but notice a strange feeling in the Force. A strong and dark presence lingering from within the great hall he spotted in the distance. He had heard word that they called it the 'Hall of the Mynock' it was a name that amused him, it was a shame that it was to be demolished. He admired it from architectural standpoint, but then its destruction served a purpose.

 

Rebirth. In its death would a new structure take its place that would usher in a new era for the planet.

 

Taking a quick detour, Karys decided to investigate this unusually strong dark presence he felt. One that drew him. Stalking towards the hall, he entered making his way to a type of what seemed a meeting hall. As he entered he noted bodies lying about, which was also amusing...it appeared combat had taken place here. And then he noted two individuals. One a human, the other a Cathar with a slave collar. The human appeared to be the one he had been drawn too, indeed he could feel his strength in the Force. Clearly he was a master of the dark arts.

 

As he approached with caution, he issued a respectful bow of the head before speaking.

 

"Greetings brother, looks like I missed one hell of a fight. A pity, I would of enjoyed seeing it. I don't believe we have ever had the pleasure of meeting yet, I am Darth Akheron, a recent title. I am a former apprentice to Sheog The Mad, someone you might have heard of. After much strife and three untimely deaths I finally earnt my rank as a Sith Lord. Suffice to say I learnt a few lessons from those trips, and just how menacing the undead can be.

 

As well as the best method to will yourself back from the dead without cloning. They say the gates of Chaos are unbreakable...I begged to differ and won that argument."

 

Chuckling slightly he continued.

 

"I am curious as to who you might be. As it seems for some strange reason I was drawn here by your presence, there are never any coincidences I find where the Force is concerned as such I just need to figure out why I was drawn to you. Must be some reason for it, perhaps we can find it out. At the very least, it is always good to meet another of the dark under cordial circumstances."

 

(( OOC: Current armour - https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/004/074/440/large/kim-eun-chul-dark-assassin.jpg?1480399549

[Sith X]

"Just stop.." Oni slightly shrieked, his irritation of Exodus' words slightly observent as he gazed upon his pupil, his eyes flickering in onyx behind the blackened mask the adorned his face, hidden behind the slits of the mask's eyesight. "You're my student, not my slave. If the collar pisses you off, then be pissed off. Curse, swear, roar, whatever you will. Wear you emotions, but do not let the rule you."

 

Oni sighed, focusing his mind and centering himself. "I too have been a slave. Not in the same context as you, but a slave none the less. First to this cursed disease, nothing more than a mere beast. Then to that blasted protocol droid that Umaga placed me in during my time with the Hutt's. And even now it seems, " Oni clenched his fist, his temper boiling at the thought of truth behind the Dark Lord's words. "I'm still a slave to the false ideas I believed in, no more than lies flowered by false convictions and agendas."

 

The disease that taints Oni's soul flares with, causing the demons form to rise to the surface, one of the reasons he hides his form in public areas. Without a single movement, a mere thought upon his mind, a nearby column shatters into dust and disappears into the wind. And as quickly as his temper flares, it subsides, as does the demonic form. "My hopes for you, by wearing this collar, is that you see it for what it is: a means of hindering the spirit of the weak, not the form. And in this lesson, realize that it is mere material, something that holds no meaning than what you let it mean to you.

 

Oni sighs, looking for a place to sit when a presence causes him to turn and face a newcomer. Clad in Armor, boastful in his accomplishments almost as much as his deaths, Oni smiles, his mind wondering back to his time as a Lord. A time when Oni was as sure of himself as he was that the sun would rise and set, hiding his former grotesque features behind the assassin's armor he once wore. Truly, some things would never change, and it eased his heart to know this.

 

"Forgive me Darth Akheron." Oni spoke with a humble chuckle, having noticed a pure presence within the darkness that surrounded the figure before him, causing the Sith Master to take notice of the bloodline that ran through the man, or rather Massassi in this case. "I've only recently returned to the Order after an extended hiatus. I am Darth Oni."

 

Oni extended his arm out to grasp the man's near the elbow, a warrior's handshake of the equal nature, signifying that he saw him as brethren. Oni's mind still weighed heavily the truth of the Dark Lord's lingering words, but as time passed and with the aid of this newcomer's distraction, Oni was able to let it fall toward the back of his thoughts.

 

"I must confess that I do not know of this Sheog the Mad, but the name brings out my curiosity. Is he a Master of the Order? If so, I shall have to meet this man one day. Very seldom does one form the title of madness among the Sith, and by the blood running through your veins, such high praise by one of Pureblood. I was under the impression that your kind was extinct, but seeing you here, let's just say it brings an old soul joy to know that my impression was wrong." Oni turns, presenting Camik. "Forgive my manners. This is my Apprentice, Camik Rhonik"

[Krath Apothos]

The void of space stretched back into place as the ship exited hyperspace. The Bleeding Edge, built for comfort, made the transition smoothly, and a soft *ding* in the main suite alerted the single passenger of the ship's arrival.

 

Nok set down the elegant hand-blown glass, still half-full of Corellian whiskey, and made his way to the bridge, his red robes swishing faintly as he walked. Sitting at the controls was an old OOM-series battle droid, its shoulders and head accented with blue to indicate its piloting programming. An ancient model by today's standards, but functional and easy to maintain. Not to mention the combat programming could come in handy, and they hardly ever got "independent" ideas.

 

"Sir" the droid's tinny voice said with programmed obeisance, "we are approaching Onderon, but it looks like there's some debris in our flight path."

 

Nok looked out the window and arched his eyebrow. That debris was the remains of a battle, and a large one at that. The wreckage of fighters tumbled slowly through space, and here and there corpses hung unmoving in the vacuum.

 

Hold our position here, but keep the shields and hyperdrive ready for use. Reroute the comm to my room.

 

"Roger roger."

 

As he walked back to his suite, he let one of his knives drop into his palm from his sleeve, spinning it through his fingers before tucking it away. A nervous tic he'd developed, one he'd have to tamp down on if he intended to show strength to the Sith.

 

He looked at the accouterments of his ship. Valuable paintings bought for fortunes at auctions, or confiscated from competitors to pay debts after misfortune left them with nothing else to give. Of course those competitors hardly ever considered that Nok was the source of their misfortune. After all, he was nothing but a failed, cowardly neimoidian entrepreneur. And those who saw his true face, his wealth, his pride...

They soon wished they had remained ignorant.

 

Nok smiled to himself, a warm feeling under his skin. Pride and he were old friends. Pride had saved him in the hatcheries. Pride had let him cow and bully his way to founding his own company. And pride had given him the strength to cross lines and take risks his fellow neimoidians balked at.

 

Dead in the cold and dark

 

A chill shot through him, robbing him of his moment of pleasure.

 

Increase room temperature by 2 degrees, and use scent setting 8 he muttered. The air warmed noticeably within seconds, and a soothing floral scent wafted past.

 

He would not allow such a fate. He would not sit placid and wait for a future that didn't live up to his standards, that denied him what he had earned, what he deserved. If these dreams were force visions, if it was the universe's will for him to die, if the natural order had turned against him...

 

He would overrule that order.

 

He sat back down in his chair, a tall thing of polished dark wood and draped in red silks. He drained the last of his whiskey to steady himself, and activated the ship's comms.

 

This is Nok Morliss, of The Bleeding Edge. I am here seeking the Sith, with a sensitive applicant looking for study.

[Zalis Krales]

************************* TROS ARDELL ***************************************

 

All Tros could do was give a nod of his head to Terra, all of which she couldn't see as she was focused ahead. He used the slave controls in his buy'ce to his ship, Swift Justice, to have it jump to hyperspace and follow them to Qat Chrystac, a planet that in his entire time of being a beroya had never heard of. But if that was where they would go to honor Kad Ha'rangir, then that was going to be the place he would follow Terra.

 

 

 

 

************************* ZALIS KRALES ***************************************

 

 

Zalis felt a slight twinge of annoyance that Delta wasn’t even on the surface of the planet, but she wasn’t going to turn around to go to him without first finishing what she wanted to do; Setup a Black Sun presence in the black market on Onderon. He would be able to wait. Although she had to remember that being onboard the Sith warship was not his fault. Her disappointment would have to remain out of her voice.

 

“Yeah, sorry Delta. Bespin was lost to the Imperial Remnant. But there are much bigger mynocks to catch. We can get Bespin back at a later time. For now, I have something that I want tested out, and I think that I know the perfect spot to test it. Have you seen the report from Yurri Kane? I’ll fill you in on the full details in a bit. For now, I’m looking to establish our presence within the black market. It shouldn’t take long. I’ll be up your way in a solid hour. I’m sure our allies would love to hear the details.”

Zalis put the commlink down and handed the briefcase over to LP4. She then spent her time working the crowds and the market dealers to find out exactly what she needed along with who she needed to know. After around 50 minutes of walking around and talking to people, she was able to start the ball rolling by providing a small investment in the two dealers who were willing to be black market sellers, along with a promise to allow for Black Sun to put their own supplies into the market through them. She made notes of who they were so that anytime an agent, Vigo, or ally needed something, she could point them in the right direction. After she had finished and made it back to her ship, it had been around an hour and twenty-five minutes since she told Delta she would be an hour. She then had her ship lift off to board with the Scarab.