Spite Station- the Maw

[Jidai Geki]

The Maw: Spite Station

 

Astrographical Information

Region: Outer Rim; Maw Nebulae

Sector: Kessel Sector

Orbital Position: N/A

Moons: N/A

Grid Coordinates: T-10

 

Physical Information

Class: Station

Atmosphere: Type 1 (In Station)

Primary Terrain: Station

Points of Interest:

 

 

Spite Station

 

Force Nexus

 

Maw Installation

The installation was a Krath research facility built from asteroids in the midst of the Maw Cluster

 

Prison / Slavers' Bay

The prison facility in the Maw contained various facilities within the compound, including the main prison buildings, a weapons storage building, communication relays to nearby vessels, and several landing platforms, including one for tankers. Those facilities and more were also connected via a repulsor-lift railway system that also held other facilities together. The communication relays, placed at the far corner of the prison, consisted of seven towers. An environmental dome was placed in the installation between the weapons storage and the relays. This particular facility was dated, and thoroughly redesigned by Lord Furion, and soon by another force.

 

 

 

Societal Information

Indigenous Species: Unknown

Immigrated Species: Slaves of all kinds

Primary Language(s): None

Faction Affiliation: Sith

 

 

JediRP Canon History:

 

The Maw was a cluster of black holes located in the Kessel sector of the Outer Rim Territories, at the center of the Maw Nebulae. The ionizing gases being drawn into it made the cluster visible and made it one of the Wonders of the Galaxy. Because of the intense gravity of the black holes, the entire Kessel system was slowly drawn into the Maw. The stability of the cluster itself was something of a mystery, with some believing that an advanced civilization might have constructed it, rather than it merging together like a normal cluster would. Most of the area of the Maw was saturated in radiation, plasma, and strong gravitational forces. More than that, the power of the Dark Side reigned supreme across the expanse and spread like the plague in every which direction. Any ship's captains that neared the edge of the Maw would notice pieces of their ships being pulled apart, and some smugglers and criminals used it as a shortcut past the Kessel Run.

 

Spite Station itself, along with the facilities conjoined, have not entertained visitors in quite some time. There is another force at work beyond the eyes of the common folk, remastering the Station in secrecy.

 

((Summary compiled by Exodus. Thank you!))

[Darth Furion]

The small freighter pulled out of yet another short jump in hyperspace. Perhaps the thousandth. Who knows? Rose had lost count after nodding off in the copilots chair. Everything was so vibrant and exciting here in the Maw, she hadn't seen the inside of her eyelids for over two days, absolutely lost in wonder. Every time the ship had to pull in and out of hyperspace she was reminded how dangerous this trip really was. Without the breaks, without the micro adjustments and recalculations the ship would be lost in singularity to one of the countless black holes potholing the narrow path in space. How had father found this place? It was impossible to know where to break off the Kessel run, weaving deftly through the devastating traps the ferocious Maw had to offer, and every single adjustment. It was all perfect. Exact directions in a system wide maze of astronomical forces of terrifying power. One couldn't have simply found this place by mistake, this tiny pocket of shrouded safety amidst such great threat of destruction. Weirder than that, Julio had confessed to her when describing the place that he had never gone there himself, and that it was beyond imperative that she followed his directions to the key.

 

"Miss." Came the captain's sweet but firm voice. "We're approaching the final exit."

 

Her eyes flicked open casually, lingering on nothing particular in front of her before she sat slowly upright. Stars still blurred by in streaks of various hues. And then, nothing. The blur stopped suddenly, and the ship immediately found itself locked in a tractor beam

 

"Shuttled five, five, one. You have been expected and intercepted." Buzzed a mechanical voice through the intercom.

 

There was only one way in to Spite Station. Through the narrow path lined with black holes. Scanners and relays imbedded in asteroids a few jumps back had paused to register the ship's codes and forwarded the arrival to the station. Now in plain view for the first time, Rose began to see what her father had tried to show her. A cluster of asteroids, sewn together by long rails of turbolifts, almost like tendons. The central asteroid acting as the hub alone was massive, not to mention the handful of other, lesser asteroids lashed to it and one another in an intricate web of interconnecting tunnels. Room enough for all of the Order's needs.

 

One safely landed, Rose made her way down the exit ramp and was received by the familiar presence of her father's shrouded followers.

 

"Young master." They whispered in unison as the three of them bowed, rising as one. "Spite station has been converted as per the Master's orders. Shall you have a tour?"

 

Her legs were stiff, the walk would do her good. "Yes."

 

Three hours later her legs throbbed. She toured the main hub first, honeycombed by areas of living quarters. The rooms ranged from ten by ten holes in the wall bunked to fit nine, to expansive apartments housing every mundane need a domesticated, civilized person may desire. The apartment her and her father would be sharing was by far the most lavish she had stayed, except maybe their home on Talus, but that was purely for appearances. Here, away from the prying eyes of the galaxy it wasn't much needed. At least that's what Julio would say. Inwardly she was delighted to see the pretty burgundy wallpaper, etched in gold leaf, and the matching carpet. Delicately hidden amidst the housing section were laundry rooms, and in the lower sections food dispensers and public showers and restrooms. Almost different worlds from the floors above. Lower still housed the hanger bays. There were a lot of hangers belting around the central hub, some small for personal use, and others large enough to fit small warships, or even whole fighter wings. Deeper still were engineering departments, filled with machines and tools to fabricate whatever came to mind.

 

Through one of the long turbolifts they arrived at the power planet where the reactor was constantly being monitored by sentient and artificial intelligence alike. Security droids marched mechanically through their outlined paths, ready to lay down fire should any cross their paths without clearance. Also on this satellite hub was the communications department. Right now their predominant concern was monitoring who came in and out of hyperspace at that very narrow point of a threshold, ready to intercept with one of the various tractor beams in place. Should anyone unregistered come through, they'd be locked into place while turreted mass driver and ion cannons honed in. But as there were very few people coming in and out, their other task was that of synchronizing the sensors surround the station coordinating every individual weapon system on the station.

 

Internally, the only protection offered were blast doors capable of being electromagnetically sealed in the event of a turbolift tube breaching or if hangers needed to be locked down. Any viewport to space also had thick durasteel shutters plated in phrik to resist any forced entry. Pleased by the security, Rose only nodded an approval and continued on to other hubs.

 

Most of the hubs had at one point been scientific research. This was the only one that remained virtually untouched in idea, though hugely updated in technology and design. A medical bay, cloning tubes, labs of any size one could come to think of. It rivaled any facility in any university, though not as grand as those held by private companies and huge military budgets. Cybernetics, cellular manipulation and reconstruction, the body could be a canvas here.

 

"How are we staffed?" Her manner seemed most mature, though her childish voice constantly reminded those around her that she was quite out of her element.

 

"We've recruited acolytes from the student bodies of schools around the galaxy. None of them gifted like you, young master, but each stood at the top of their classes in their given studies. Engineers, Technicians, Graduates, all what would have been the best and brightest of the galaxy had we not whisked them from the light of day."

 

And with a nod the tour continued. A smaller hub held meditation spheres, each with huge spherical windows to look upon the black hole infested system. Aside from these, a few workshops barely ten foot square stood in a line of compartments dug into the asteroid. In them contained all the tools and generic spare parts necessary to construct a lightsaber, as well as tiny furnaces capable of reaching phenominal temperatures to pour one's passion into a crystaline form. This hub, more than any of the others, was remarkably less done up. Jagged stone jutted out from every wall, there weren't so much doors on the meditation spheres as loosely fitted panels of metal on weak rails. Lights, blinking in some sickly yellow color, only lined the wall in sconces every thirty feet or so.Aside from the metal fixtures, it felt very cave like.

 

At one point one of the hubs on the station served as an Imperial barracks. Now it stood as a dungeon for slaves and prisoners alike. The holding cells ranged from your standard hole in the wall with an energy field as the missing wall, Force cages, to ray sheilds suspending the hostage in air. The interrogation rooms were much more heinous. Barbed manacles dangled from walls, anchored three feet deep into the asteroid's rock face, chairs with restraints and electric diodes up the back of the chair and down the arm and leg rests. A tray of tools that sported tools you could find in doctor's bags, mechanic's toolboxes, or butcher's blocks rested just against the wall on a rolling cart. And every room had a drain directly in the middle, not three feet in front of the chair. She was glad to be out of this hub. The station hadn't been open in over four hundred years, and it still stank of blood.

 

The next hub was converted into training grounds. Half of it stood as a gutted out structure, now an obstacle course. The course ran a quarter mile long and stood eight stories tall, littered with pit falls, floor traps, high jumps, and fire. What the course lacked in distance, it more than made up for it in difficulty. The higher up the course you made it, the deadlier it became. The other half of the hub was broken up into a few rooms lined with weapons and long ranges to test accuracy. Weight rooms, acrobatic rooms, everything a young Sith needed to push their bodies past the breaking point and forge themselves anew. A digital library took up only one room with but a few consoles, but held all the written knowledge the Sith had transcribed onto digital format over the millenia.

 

The final hub was perhaps the smallest, though by far the least noteworthy. Immediately off the turbolift, the floor stretched out in brilliant crimson tiles flecked with black stone. The tiles criss crossed in intricate patterns, no two tiles the same, creating a mural that drew the eye further down the long, narrow hallway. Torches lined the sides, but once you exited the hall, the room expaned to a huge ballroom, enough to fit five hundred people, with room left to dance in the middle. A large crystal chandalier hung in the middle, each stone a different hues of reds, purples, blues and black. When all the torches lining the inside of the chandelier were lit, the thing blazed like an ion storm, sending shards of colorful light everywhere. Ornamental weapons and intricately woven tapestries depicting famous victories lined the walls, though the practicality of the weapons was questionable. They looked more pretty than sharp. On either side of the room were two sets of doors. The one to the left went to a large dinning hall with a well stocked kitchen past another set of doors, while the one to the right went to a large study of sorts, with a grand piano, card table, and bookshelves lined with collections of works of any subject matter. In the back of the ball room, a twin set of stairs followed the natural curve of the room up to a small balcony where one large, very comfortable looking throne sat alone.

 

"You've been most busy." She said awestruck, lost in the majesty of this hub in comparison with the compound like feel of the rest of the station.

 

"We live to serve the Sith, young Master."

[Ary the Grey]

As the stolen shuttle popped out of hyperspace well away from the Maw's deadly pull, it met nearly immediately with two other shuttles, clearly with Sith markings. Ares had commed ahead, letting them know what he would require. He docked with one, allowing the acolytes that had piloted it to take his stolen one and his prisoner within it while he took their shuttle off their hands. From then, it was a simple matter to make the transfer again, disposing of the Kashyyyk spacecraft in a nearby black hole.

 

Uriel would wake up in a prison cell inside Spite Station after the Acolytes had piloted their way back and made the proper transfers, ensuring he was unconscious the whole way. Ares, meanwhile, was left to his shuttle outside the Maw, to wipe the computers clean of any previous destinations and peruse the Sith archives remotely. Ares had business of his own, business that he wished to complete before he again reported in to the Dark Lord.

[Darth Furion]

Prisoner protocol dictated Uriel be treated as any other would. Stripped of all personal effects and combed down through a series of bio and foreign materials scans to prevent anything from being smuggled in, the traitor would find himself strapped to a metal chair at the wrists, ankles and waist by a thick metal band electromagentically locked to the chair. Even the acolytes standing outside his cell, armed with high voltage stun batons, were trained to resist any attempt at mental trickery. Escape was not possible for a lowly apprentice such as he.

[Darth Furion]

The Corusca Gem fell out of hyperspace in perfect line within the narrow parameters of the Maw's narrow passage, and was immediately hailed by the station hanging against the blackness in this tiny pocket of space. Julio transferred the correct keywords and guided the ship in for docking.

 

We're home, my brothers and sisters. Get yourselves settled in and I will be back shortly. Get to know one another before we truly take our first steps toward greatness.

 

He left the ship, and moved through the hanger. He could feel her, knew she was coming but let her jump him anyway, just to see that smile.

 

"Daddy!" Her arms were around his neck in a flash, her body swinging freely as her feet dangled a foot off the ground. "I thought you said you were going to be gone for a long time?!" She said in hurried excitement as if her birthday had come early this year.

 

I thought so, but I guess it wasn't meant to be. He smiled at her. She gave him the most curious look, as if he had said something completely uncharacteristic, but lost it in his smile and returned it just as fiercely.

 

"Good. I didn't want you with those stupid Jedi anyway. You wouldn't have been happy at all."

 

You're right. I wouldn't have. But I do have to leave again.

 

Her face melted to dread. "How long?"

 

A few days. Wanna come with me?

 

"Yes!" She said without a moment's hesitation. He took her by the hand, much bigger than it used to be, and walked her from one hanger to another down the hall where his personal ship waited, what was going to be her ship when he had planned to leave for possibly forever. Rose was fourteen now, growing into a young woman. Every day he spent with her he knew the day had come that he would have to stop treating her like a child and begin her training, but every day his told himself tomorrow, knowing tomorrow wouldn't come. Now not only was tomorrow coming, but he counted on it, hoped for it. The reasons differed and conflicted with his dreams for her. Both were selfish.

 

As they boarded The Chameleon, pacified passengers would begin ushering themselves off the luxury liner into the slave pens, his fellow Sith not far behind.

 

((Find your rooms, get settled in, do as you will until I get back. I've got to stop to make.))

[Emily]

Emily hadn't known where they were going, just that it was going to be the new center for the Sith Order. So when they arrived on a brand new space station, she was interested to explore the place. Furion had disappeared soon after they had landed, leaving orders only for them to settle in and wait for his summons. So with a smile aimed at Nishant, she disembarked and headed into the station proper.

 

An adept showed her to her room. It was of average size, rather simply adorned but functional. Everything was clearly still new. There was a small lounge and kitchenette attached to the bedroom, and a large window. She was immediately drawn to the window, and looked out with awe on the swirling gasses. This must be the Maw, she thought. She had heard of the massive conglomeration of black holes, and looking out on it now, she realized that there certainly might be some credence to the ideas that some had of the place being assembled, rather than a natural phenomenon.

 

She finally tore herself away from the viewport. If she looked too long, the sight might drive her insane. She drew the thin gauzy curtains over the viewport and finished looking around her small apartment. Overall, it pleased her. It wasn't too lavish, but also not too spartan. And unlike the rooms at the old Sith Temple, this place was clearly designed with Sith architecture in mind. She got all settled in and ordered a large sandbox for Roe'gall.

 

She thought about settling in to spend the evening in solitude, but her curiosity was strong. So she motioned for the monstrous tuk'ata to follow her, and headed out barefoot through the facility, intent on getting a full tour, and hopefully running into Nishant as she walked.

[Keenava Dira]

It wouldn’t make for a good opening ceremony if she smelled like swamp and although they were away from the planet, it was clear that parts of the planet still lingered on her. Whether it was the dirt that clung to her face or the muck that got stuck underneath her fingers and toenails she didn’t know, but she did know that she stunk. She couldn’t escape the shell of acrid odors that wafted up from her skin.

 

Lallu paused for a moment outside the shower, opposite the one the man used, and gingerly removed her greasy cloth top and bottom. With one arm she flung them across the room and the other she strategically used to shield her nose from further bombardment. The fluorescent lights that hung above her, made the spectacle seem startlingly sterile. Her scars shone, exposed under the light as pale memories made flesh, but Lallu continued to disrobe regardless, ignoring the nauseating realization and whatever thoughts came with it. She pushed the shower’s on button with her right index finger. Then, after waiting a few seconds for the water to transition from cold to warm, the Twi entered the shower and shut the door, immediately setting to work with the soap she was allotted. This facility was designed for public use and lacked certain amenities that Lallu got used to on Talus; that much was clear in the first few minutes. But Lallu wasn’t here for fancy. She couldn’t ever wrap her mind around the necessity for products, salves, perfumes and shampoos because it never seemed necessary to her. Clean was clean and that was that. Even though she had access to new cleaning solutions on Talus, she took advantage of them on a practical basis and she wasn’t inconvenienced if they were removed. It may have been because she wasn’t trying to impress anyone, or that she didn’t consider, ‘flowery scents’ to be a particularly impressive feature. She didn’t really care. She figured it was a way to mask your scent, but there were only a few practical reasons for such a practice. And if you used too much, then you ended up exposing yourself even more so the entire thing seemed a little tedious.

 

The run of the soap across her rough skin and the articulate spray of hot water against her sore muscles was enough to satisfy the function of what Lallu called a shower. She worked to scrub every bit of dirt out of her black skin and once she could see her fingers begin to prune or her scars turning a lighter shade of grey, she knew she was finished. It was a simple process that lay methodical in its implementation. There was no perfect trick that Lallu held on to that told her how take a luxurious shower, because every single session was exactly the same to her. She memorized it and went through the motions like a dance. Once the motions were done and the music was over, the dance was over.

 

It was a monotony that seemed hardly consistent when it came to others of her gender. On the other hand though, one of Lallu’s biggest guilty pleasures and yet another female cliché shone in the beautiful fabrics she enjoyed wearing. They weren’t essential to every situation obviously, and Lallu still held onto a practical base when it came to wardrobe, but if she saw a glittering dress it drew her eye more than any plain one did. It was one of the most vivid parts of her past that she could always remember. Her mother wore the best clothes. So, while she scorned frilly scents and useless chemicals, she adored glittery and slinky dresses. They held an infinite source of pleasure for her and made her feel more like a woman and less like a tool.

 

The consideration of clothing didn’t normally possess Lallu’s mind though and didn’t when she exited the shower; at least, until she looked down toward her extraordinarily dirty clothing on the floor. She could see the scorch marks, the dirt marks and everything in between clinging to the fabric in a disgusting play of colorful mess and almost felt disgusted with herself for letting them get so dirty. Not seeing any other alternative though, Lallu was a little frantic. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of her body. In fact, quite the contrary, she was indifferent toward her body and anyone who saw her due to previous experience, but the simple feeling of nakedness filled Lallu with a sense of immediacy. She wanted clothing or something to wear. Now!

 

Lallu took her towel, wrapped it tightly around her body and tied it at the corner. She let her lekku drip dry as she walked, and started off toward the back of the craft where the passengers kept their luggage. When she came upon the door, she found herself at the foot of a proverbial baggage mountain. She took one look at the mass of bags arrayed before her and immediately felt the need to discard modesty and use both of her hands to dig through the stack, package by package. She scavenged for something her size, anything. She would settle for a tank top or simple pants, but the layer of bags on the top of the pile didn’t yield anything her size. She began to see more and more female clothing as she ripped through the baggage with a vengeance and although she found a number of undergarments that could and could not fit her, she couldn’t find anything else. It was frustrating that nothing seemed to fit her right and she was about to give in and wear something bigger than her, when she spotted a piece of glittering red fabric underneath the hoard of miscellaneous garments. Feeling curious, the Twi’lek tugged at the fabric until it revealed a slinky red dress; a slinky red dress that taunted her from the bottom of the pile and summoned a curious need that she hadn’t felt before. This’ll do. Lallu thought to herself, quickly wrenching the dress - along with a few silky undergarments - from its resting place beneath the other, less noteworthy clothing.

 

The towel fell from her body almost automatically. Anticipation and glee filled each motion as putting the slinky dress on became the equivalent of Lallu’s birthday. She took each silky undergarment and threw them on within seconds not caring enough to pay them any more mind than was necessary. Then, taking care to slip the dress on last, she made sure it was carefully shaped over her head and pulled down at the right spots without destroying the material. It wasn’t too tight and managed to slide a little easier than Lallu thought, even if it kind of pinched at her shoulders, but the dress was so amazing that she paid no heed to the slightest discomfort. It showed enough of her navel to expose her jewelry and it managed to hug her curves well enough to sculpt her into a glittery visage.

 

She silently thanked whoever thought to bring such a lovely dress, and admonished their sacrifice by stealing a matching set of ornate silver earrings. They won’t miss them…

____ ____ ___ ____ ____ ____ ___ ____ ____ ____ ___ ____ ____ ____ ___ ____

 

 

Lallu came from the back, just in time to catch the ship decelerating into a normal flight pattern. Knowing that the autopilot wasn’t sufficient for the next stage of their space voyage, Lallu shot to the captain’s chair like a madwoman and immediately seized control of the vessel to ease the transition. She could tell that her wardrobe change might be an issue for conversation, but any compliment or insult thrown her way was quickly discarded. She kept her eyes on the viewport and entered a series of codes into the ship’s computer. Each press of a button accelerated her heart rate and soon Lallu’s head was sweating with strain.

 

At first, it seemed that her panic was useless, but the silent black of the viewport was soon broken in a torrent of black holes that consumed almost all visible sections of space from where they sat. Lallu was taken aback by the sheer volume of the stellar formations, but she held the steering yolk firmly and guided the ship through each coordinated flight vector given to her. She could feel the tense buildup of nerves filter through her as the shuttle continued and Lallu held a moment of utmost clarity as the ship sailed a little out of the indicated vector. Lallu saw where the shuttle needed to go and how much of a correction it needed, but the yolk struggled against her. Oh shit…

 

Lallu grabbed the yolk and pulled roughly at it, putting as much pressure as she could in her movement without breaking anything. She could feel no yield in the mechanism. Lallu pushed random buttons on her console in the hopes that it would help the situation, but it seemed nothing would abate their eminent end. Lallu banged her fist on the console in frustration and when she took her fist away, expecting death to greet her, the yolk finally responded to her touch. The steering mechanisms re-engaged and she immediately set the shuttle back on course. The Twi’lek sighed with exasperated relief as the last black hole passed them by and their destination sailed into view.

 

The aptly named Spite station sat just ahead, and as soon as Lallu was within range, she was hailed, acknowledged and given a place to land. After that, I need a nap. Lallu concluded. The hot sweat of her anxiety still visible on her forehead as the ship’s autopilot took them in for a landing.

 

“Whew that was rough.” Lallu said, looking over at the man for the first time, adjusting her safety belt and snapping it back to the side of the seat with a flick of her hand. She sat up a little and collected her thoughts for a moment before she got up from the captain’s chair and started to leave. At the last moment though, she turned back to the man and smiled. “We were expected, so I would wager that something is coming up soon. However, I don’t sense the dark lord’s presence, so it would seem that we have time to make ourselves comfortable for the time being. I will be exploring the space station a bit so you don’t need to follow, but if you would like to you are welcome.”

 

Lallu turned away from the man, left the cockpit, made a quick stop on the way to grab her knives and bag from one of the coach seats, then opened the shuttle door.

 

 

____ ____ ___ ____ ____ ____ ___ ____ ____ ____ ___ ____ ____ ____ ___ ____

 

The station was massive. It was a lot bigger than what Lallu expected and filled to the brim with exciting places to explore. She made a short stop at the hub that branched off toward a series of bunks and picked one for her own, placing her bag upon it. Then she flew through the complex taking note of each and every little thing. The presence of Furion was thick in the walls of this place even with his absence and because of it, nothing could affect her joy; even her exhaustion from before seemed to melt as she moved. She came close to tears though when she saw the ballroom.

 

She couldn’t contain the awe she felt in its design and swept into a long series of dances with invisible partners. She was happy. She was home…

Edited March 22, 2012 by Guest

[Nishant]

He watched her walk away with that smile, cocked his head slightly to the side and breathed. This was a new place, with new people, but at this point there were only two people present that had his attention, and one of them was Emily. He swiveled his gaze around the immediate location, and wordlessly set out away from the other gathered Sith disembarking the Corusca Gem. He cared little for finding his room, though when he came across an acolyte he got as much verbal information about the locations of things, including housing, as he could.

 

What he was most immediately interested in was the mention of meditation spheres. It had been some time since he had sat, and his first reaction to this thought was trepidation, entirely unexpected trepidation. Many things had changed since the last time he had ventured to meditate the Chalactan way, and he recalled the imagery that had been his, the vast stretch of endless ocean. It brought a smile to his lips, as if it were when he had first been learning to meditate as his people did. It had been described, in a rare moment of frustration from his...father...when Nishant was being stubborn about a point, that it could be thought of as like lucid dreaming. Perhaps he had gone too far with the imagery of the process. Perhaps that was why he had been sucked into passivity. Who knew? He would find out.

 

He was intent, and his intent wove through the Force to direct him where he wished to go, so it was with an uncanny and pleasing accuracy that he aimed himself to the turbolift that would lead him down the faster path to the smaller hub containing these meditation spheres. When he arrived at this hub, and he walked slowly into one of these spherical cocoons of reflection, he sat down on the small central platform and let his gaze take in the huge view before him. Grand darkness. Darkness full of life. After a time it appeared to him with a sentience of its own, each black hole relating to the other, all of them relating to the space around them that was different, that was made up of different stuff, each facet painting a picture that was arresting and entrancing.

 

And then he closed his eyes.

 

There were many ways to meditate, and he had explored several. Though he was coming steadily to the point in time when he would conclude that his way was not the way of his people (as if some part of him was still denying that his chosen path, at least at present, flew in the face of what he had been raised to do and see), it was to the Chalactan way of meditating that Nishant’s total being automatically went. It took three simple, soft, lingering breaths, and the imagery swallowed him with a cacophonous sound that had never happened before, and which reminded him of something enormous shattering from within.

 

The imagery without imagery. He had long associated imagery with what was real, or at least feasible, or possible, or existing in some fashion. The mind-ocean of what seemed a previous life had been such an image. Now it was, blank. When the inward eyes opened, they beheld white. White, in every direction. He was sitting in empty color. It was not as if he was suspended in air, but there was no sensation of a floor beneath him, even when he looked down and it appeared that he was solidly seated. Whiteness, not bright, not dim, not fuzzy, not anything but the endless color of whiteness accompanied by the notion that it was endless and could thus be endlessly traveled, though there would never be any destination.

 

I don’t understand.

 

All he had to do was breathe, here, now, in this place of empty color. No, not empty. Blank color. No, not blank. It was a color. It was...the color of canvas. Canvas to be painted on. It was a new sheet of paper. It was the color of receptivity, the color that could be altered, the color that could be coated over. It was the image of change, and of receiving change coolly, and willingly, and effectively. It was familiar.

 

I remember.

 

It was the first image that had come to him, the first image that had not wavered with the absence of his attention in meditation, the first image that had been fitting to the standards of Chalactan meditation. He had been a boy, then...and it hadn’t been an image inspired by either of his parents.

 

No, you showed me this.

 

And as if cued by the thought, a figure appeared in the endless canvas, a figure who was tall and intensely graceful in his stillness; a figure with a river of soft black hair, with skin like mahogany, with slimly spectacular physique, with a soft determination in the way his mouth was set, in the way his eyes watched, in the way he breathed.

 

Uncle.

 

His uncle, of course, could not speak to him, but it was as if the words he would have spoken in response came to Nishant as images, and in this way a conversation was held without ever taking place. This was the man Nishant had often wished was his father. This was the man who had first shown him what it meant to go one’s own way. This was the man who had introduced a life outside the constraints and rules of Chalactan society, which so defined its people’s lives even as they wandered the stars “freely”.

 

This was the man who had taught Nishant about death.

 

He had forgotten that entirely. He had purged the memory. He had left that lesson bleeding its life away by a soft stream under the sun on Naboo, and had never spoken to his uncle again. It had been a lesson that sent him back into the arms of his parents, and into the realm of what he so naively thought of as peace. He was remembering that he had wanted a peace of heart and mind in his uncle’s company, as much as any other. But it had been a very different manner in which he had dealt with it. He had engaged, and not run away.

 

When he opened his eyes again, to that great portal of the Maw, he was satisfied. He was also satisfied to find that his senses were flying outwards through the Force, and that the entirely of the station, his new home, was within the reach of this output. He could feel each location, each connection, each inhabitant, quite clearly. He had not expected this, but it made sense. He had been improving this skill steadily, and going so deep into meditation had apparently clicked it for him.

 

His focus, as it always was with her, was drawn to the wandering of a young woman in the company of a tuk’ata. He stood silently, and walked forward towards the glass. It gave off only the slightest of reflections, as its intended image was not the meditator but the view of space, and in that wavering image Nishant thought he looked more like his uncle than his father. It was a notion that pleased him.

 

Several minutes later, he had followed his feet to her, and came upon Emily and Roe’gall from the direction they were heading, so that she (and especially her bodyguard of a glorious creature) saw him coming.

 

“Found you,” he said.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Watching everyone leave, he simply observed...identifying those who would one day be his equal in rank, or those he deemed possible allies however to his mind they never be on the same level as he. He was forged through a time of fire and war among the best the Sith Order once had to offer, those were the good times. Disembarking the Corusca Gem the Sith Lord set out wordlessly as he took in this new location, his new home away from home. He identified Nishant as one of the new lot, he remembered him from Naboo, despite how brief a time it was he had helped him and his master Ar-Pharazon shortly before his capture but was barely noticed, perhaps while here he could change that.

 

It seemed to Lucifer this place to lack a certain something, a certain gothic architecture he so adored, his face turned somewhat to disgust at the sight of bland, cold metal that was durasteel and the glass that encompassed it. Perhaps that was why he felt so comfortable on Coruscant before the Jedi and Coresec defiled the sacred temple in that he liked the stone floors and long dark hallways where anything and everything was possible at least before they were pulled down, CoreSec would pay for that transgression of that he had no doubt...many sith wanted blood spilt for it in payment. Looking around he swiveled his gaze to find the nearest acolyte or at least someone who had a vague idea where everything was around here, Lucifer hated this part, finding out where everything was again...why didn't they just put maps around the place. Eventually he located a willing acolyte who set about informing the kiffar of where to find the housing section and all the other such areas of interest. After the quick talk Lucifer walked to an area he felt he would be most comfortable here, the meditation area, it was here that he entered one of the many spheres, albeit one seemed already occupied by a familiar presence.

 

It was here that he would reside for the time being and contemplate his next move. Entering the cocoon like structure, Lucifer sat down and crossed his legs to the lotus position, it was in this position and this spherical object that he opened himself up to the force, and through extension his own inner darkness. It was here he would face the demon inside and attempt to tame it. Of all the ways to meditate he preferred this method, the lotus and extending his mind beyond the void...it was in this void that he felt truly alive, for he was born in darkness, forever in darkness and he had no qualms, no doubts, no reservations, to it he would one day return. He welcomed the day it would come--indeed embraced it.

 

Let it come. I fear nothing, death is too small a obstacle to bar me from my destiny.

 

Opening himself up, breathing slowly and letting the recycled air permeate around him as the process began. Time and space seemingly became one as the kiffar wandered the void between the living and the dead, between light and darkness until he found his equilibrium among the shadows of the great abyssal dark. Reality had no bearing here, one could do whatever they wished and whenever the wished. In the darkness did Lucifer make himself at home.

 

Pure Bliss. One of inclination could quite happily live here at harmony with themselves, at harmony with the dark. It was in this state of being that the one who taunted him spoke, some vain attempt at provocation or control no doubt.

 

You think you can contain me. I am the embodiment of your desires, your strength. You destroy me, you destroy yourself.

 

The reply to such provocation was as bitter as it was sweet.

 

You are nothing to me, just as your idle threats. As a virus is nothing so are you...an infection, nothing more and I will find the cure. Now begone and return to your cage, less I make you.

 

Ever since death at the end of the great war had this demon plagued Lucifer. He was a endless torment, but soon to be no longer...everything was in motion. The one calling himself 'Lazarus', the demon entity that dwelled within...his time was numbered. With the last retort did the demon subside, clearly he had tired of his usual pursuit. leaving the Sith Lord to contemplate and meditate alone once more. Embracing again the endless silence, and everlasting dark the kiffar sat, his mind in thought and entwined in the world around him. Smiling to himself, Lucifer tugged at the strings of those around him, acolytes who drifted past completely indifferent and unaware of the presence that now planted vague suggestions and thoughts upon their weakened minds. Soon they would begin to ponder, begin to turn inwards and find only emptiness and the deep abyss inside which sat a deeper darkness that simply played with their minds like a child's plaything. It was a fun game but hardly worthy of any effort.

 

Soon enough Lucifer tired of meditation and decided upon something a little more pro-active. His focus and reality returned, the Sith Lord stood and exited the pod with one intention, to seek out allies.

 

Several minutes and a brisk walk later and he found what he was searching for. Just ahead stood two sith seemingly staring out into the deep of space and black holes through the glass. He recognised them both as Nishant and Emily alongside some large and somewhat strange looking beast whom appeared to follow the girl apparently observantly and obediently.

 

Approaching cautiously he slipped next to the glass within full view of them both as to not be mauled, folding his arms behind his back he looked out. Several words took form as he broached the subject of talking, hoping for a conversation.

 

''Interesting view. Furion chose well wouldn't you agree. However where are my manners, I believe we may not have met yet at least officially allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Lucifer it is always a pleasure to meet like-minded souls and those willing to embrace that which the jedi cannot.''

[Emily]

The place was beautiful and functional, the best of both worlds. Emily got quite a tour, and she still hadn't seen everything. She was working her way through a set of observation and meditation chambers when she saw Nishant approaching from down the hall. She smiled at him as he came within earshot and spoke in a teasing tone. Together they glanced out another viewport to the swirling gases of the Maw. "This place is pretty impressive," she commented.

 

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment. Emily knew they would have to continue their conversation from Coruscant. She had had a few days to think about the ramifications that training under Ar-Pharazon would have on Nishant, and had come to terms with the fact that he couldn't always stay the same man she had met all those months ago on Gala. She wasn't the same woman, either. And that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She just hoped with all her heart that Ar-Pharazon wouldn't turn Nishant into a raving lunatic like himself.

 

But that wasn't just something you could ask someone. "So, have you savagely murdered anyone recently for no apparent reason?" No, she'd have to simply wait and see. Thankfully, she hadn't seen Ar-Pharazon among the Sith gathered here, so hopefully his influence on Nishant would be minimal.

 

She was about to speak and break the silence when she felt someone else approaching. As he came up to them, she turned to look at him. He was tall, with dark hair that fell over one eye haphazardly. He bore an aura about him that Emily judged to be that of a high-ranking Lord or a Master. He introduced himself and folded his arms behind his back.

 

Emily nodded in greeting. "I'm Emily Zsahra-Skywalker. I'm a newly appointed Sith Lord who trained under the tutelage of Master Quietus." She allowed a small smile to touch her face. "It's a pleasure, Lord Lucifer."

[Tobias Vos]

He had missed it- An agent of the Sith had finally found him and brought him to the new base. Cursing himself, he should have seen it coming. But no matter. He was bound to end up with the rest of them anyways. But it was so sudden, definatly a hinderance into his plans. But they had collected him, they had plans. Tobias had been deep undercover for several months. A thought struck him. They were either going to interrogate him, or promote him. But I am supposed to already BE a Lord. His mind screamed. His trials had been completed! Why had Slicer been such a pompous jerk. Never telling anyone what Vos was up to. It was going to be fun explaining his mission to the Dark Lord. Whomever that was now. Slicer had been obliterated and banished from the known universe. Torin had vanished, the list went on. Promotion wasn't going to happen, he knew it.

 

So much work had already been done then lost. It would need to be re-done. And that wasn't even his personal agenda. This was business.

 

Fury.

 

Keeping his eyes closed, he felt out with the Force. He felt old friends, and old enemies. Lucifer and Emily namely. Taking a deep breath Tobias finally opened his eyes. He found himself stripped of clothing besides his pants. Standing up he gauged his surroundings. The Kiffar boy was very confused, so he set out to explore. He was in a bunk room. Baffled, he searched for a shirt. No one else was in the room, so he took the time to stretch and get a feeling for his new body. Finding a simple shirt he ventured out into the hallway. It was vacant. What the hell was going on? Feeling out through the Force he sensed there would be quite a conversation whenever he bumped into someone of importance.

[Nishant]

Now, Nishant may have recently learned the value in being capable of sifting through a mind, but the minds he had entered were weak willed and damaged by indulgence. For one thing, until he was stronger in the skill he would not attempt it on any of those he encountered here. For another, he was not about to attempt it with Emily. Yet, even without delving into her thoughts, or even without trying to attune himself to the more apparent (thought by no means obvious) emotional life, he could tell what she wanted to ask him. He could tell because it was as much on his mind as it was on hers, and because they had not been allowed the time on Coruscant to talk about it, and because it was easily the most obvious change that had occurred since they had last seen one another.

 

He was ready to speak openly of it, and to assure her that he was not, and had no intention of being, like his master. Well, that was entirely true. To root out of himself a power as intense as Ar-Pharazon's would be a task Nishant wouldn't shy from, would pursue. But his perspective would never be that of his master's. He wondered if the title even belonged to that man any more. As far as Nishant knew, the man who had been his first Sith Master was imprisoned. Perhaps, later, he might ask Darth Furion of his master's fate.

 

Before he could speak, another presence was felt, and made obvious in its approach. Nishant had no knowledge that this was the man who had aided him and Ar-Pharazon on Naboo, but he felt familiar to the young Apprentice, who subliminally recognized that he had brushed paths with this man before. Lucifer introduced himself, and received Emily's reply. Nishant's took longer to formulate. He was wary of this man, in part because he was wary of everyone here, in part because this was a man anyone should be wary of, and in part because of the end of Lucifer's introductory statement. Perhaps, in the shadow of Ar-Pharazon, in the newness of self-power and growth and the promise of more, he had been willing to express views more radical than those that were truly his. The notion that Sith were, by some general benchmark of simply being Sith, superior to the Jedi was not an idea that Nishant embraced. His power, his ability to survive, to dominate, and the evidence of it when put to the test, this was the only way he saw to prove his superiority over another. Always immediate. Always relative. Broad, sweeping declarations were the things of doctrine, and he would have none of it.

 

He followed Emily's lead, giving more than just his name. "Nishant. Until recent events I was the apprentice of Lord Ar-Pharazon." Speak straight, so that each word strikes and none is without meaning. "Have we met before?"

[Hou-Jo Poleb]

The Corusca Gem had landed some time ago, but Cadivus remained in his room. Blindly staring into the distance as the corpse of the reporter lie on the ground. He had trouble thinking back about the Maw. Was he ever here before? His past life was truly a lifetime ago. He was unsure about what happened to him, but many of his memories from his past life were lost to him. Certain key details he could remember. Vividly, even, but some of the more minute details were absent from his mind. His eyes shifted to the dead boy on the deck. The visage of Rajah was gone. He felt something deep in his stomach - at first. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to reflect. He stood from the floor, looking down on the poor young woman who was dealt a bad hand. Though speaking toward the dead, his words were meant for Rajah. There was an eruption in his mind; suggestion and feelings impacting.

 

"Liake shairal msaisal," he muttered. He didn't know where the words of the ancient Sith language came from, or even the meaning of the words, but he knew in his soul that they were true.

 

He peeled his old clothing from his skin. Though perhaps no longer a Jedi when he first dawned these clothes, he had not yet embraced his new destiny. The burns and scars over his body at the hands of Lord Furion throbbed as the cloth tore away from his skin. He put on a pair of white slacks for modesty's sake. He didn't put on the rest of the outfit, skipping straight to the outer white robe. His chest was exposed, revealing the damaged and burned skin. He picked up the brown leather mask he found and covered his face. His eyes could be seen, as well as bits of flesh, but there was enough covered to hide any distinguishing features. He lifted his hood and covered more of his face.

 

Darth Cadivus walked off the ship. He chose not to explore his quarters. There were many new faces among the Sith. There was a vague similarity with Lord Furion, but none of these others were familiar to him. He wondered around Spite Station, taking in the massive glory of the Maw. He walked along a room with a viewport of the black holes. He didn't recognize any of these Sith, but they spoke of Sith he did know. Namely Lord Ar-Pharazon and Lord Quietus. A dying breed. Though powerful in the Force in their own respect, he felt nothing from these beings on the level of Sith Lords gone by. He didn't openly present himself to these people, but he didn't especially conceal himself either. Let them exchange their words. He would await Lord Furion to return and hear his grand scheme. While he waited for the Dark Lord, however, he would eavesdrop on these young Sith. Perhaps he could gain some foresight on these pissants, in case any of them showed promise.

 

[Tobias Vos]

By sheer luck he had found a stockroom. Tobias acquired new robes, a backpack, a new datapad, and a bottle of Manaan Scotch. Returning to, what he assumed were his quarters, he stripped down and dawned his new robes. He felt back home. It had been a long time since he was this comfortable with his surroundings. Still, he kept on his toes. He didn't trust anyone here. With good reason- Emily was sketchy, Lucifer may have beef with Vos especially since Vos lit him on fire. A chuckle escaped Vos as he remembered that fight. It had been a good fight. Rubbing his ribs with his hand, he was surprised they hurt when he remembered.

 

A moment passed and the pain went away. He needed to go back to Corusant to collect Sooba. The one thing he could depend on. Reaching out, he knew the beast was still alive. And... it felt like the Anooba was close! A spark of excitement came to play in Vos's head. He left the room at once following the trail of Sooba's scent. Or at least the scent that Tobias could track through the Mind Weld. Tunnel Vision had come into effect. He passed by acolytes and other apprentices without giving them even a glance. It wasn't even until he passed the room with Lucifer and Emily in it that he looked to the side. No time was available to spare, not even to see if Emily still had his lightsaber.

 

Decending down a few flight of stairs he found a Storage floor. There were dozens of animals in here- some protection beasts, others were future meals. It didn't take long to find his friend.

 

Sooba jumped and rattled in his cage, beckoning to be let out to ravish his master with affection. Tobias had once again relocated his partner in crime. Reaching out with the Force he crushed the lock into oblivion, releasing his friend. Sooba lunged at the boy, knocking both to the ground. Both relished in the presence of one another. Whomever had done this- bring Sooba back to the station- would have his thanks. With Sooba back, he would be just as strong as ever. Now since Emily was here, it was time to see if she still had his present.

[Dashel Illioni]

The one continual and basic flaw of most Sith needed only one word to be adequately understood by any sentient being in the galaxy and that word was arrogance. That arrogance often made them underestimate their opponents, and in doing so the Sith almost always erred in some way. Enough of those errors meant that anyone, from Jedi Grandmasters to lowly agri-peasants found ways to thwart powerful Sith Lords. Uriel, even as a lowly apprentice, found himself the benefit of such a series of errors and now turned that to his profit.

 

He rose from the metal chair whose restraints fell away as if rotted by some metal eating parasite. Anyone guessing that as the cause for the restraints failing could have been forgiven their failure, for the nanites that had silently consumed those restraints would seem to have been just that to anyone not familiar with what nanites did when they consumed resources. They acted according to whatever their collective needed, and in Uriel’s case that was to replicate rapidly and into three different forms. The first form became a series of nanite sized ants after the largest of the remaining stealth reserves of nanites made sure that Uriel was in the room alone and unobserved by any prying eyes, whether video or humanoid. The video and other sensors were easily fooled; the nanites simply found other prisoners in other cells and rerouted those readings to the terminals manned by Sith technicians. The humanoid eyes just simply did not look in to the cell and thus Uriel found his escape by exiting the cell through a circular hole beneath the chair and into an escape tunnel constructed for his size by the nanites in their feeding.

 

So far everything was proceeding according to the plan he had hatched with the aid of the intelligence created when his nanites reached critical mass. A plan that Darth Ares missed in his arrogance and because the machines monitoring his slumber could not read the human consciousness when that consciousness separated itself from the body to which it belonged. Uriel’s consciousness, already submerged tenuously within the lightside of the force when Ares stun blasts hit him, detached itself from his body and floated among an empty white beauty without any features.

As starlines raced by the viewports of Ares, two events had occurred within that empty space that continued Uriel’s evolution.

 

The emptiness Uriel found himself with visitors approaching on the horizon of that horizon after what seemed like a very short eternity. Several gray points on the horizon of that whiteness rapidly approached him. He raised his arms to defend himself, but the first point to reach him went through his guard and directly between his eyes and exacted a toll upon the former Sith. For the point that entered into his mind contained the entire life of his very first victim, from the victim’s first conscious thought to the gruesome end Uriel subjected the man to at his master’s request. He re-lived that life, complete with emotions at every major point including the man’s slow death at the tortuous instruments Uriel employed at his Master’s behest. He felt everything, both emotionally and physically, absorbed and woke long enough just for the second point to him. He repeated the process, learning regret one piece at a time, thousands upon thousands of time until Uriel understood, learned from, and recognized his guilt as a consequence of the choices of his life. The light might welcome the converts from the Darkside, but for some that meant confronting their own lives one victim at a time, to learn, grow, and change from the experience, purified by a examination of the truth of their lives.

 

Once that lesson had been truly learned, Uriel found himself floating in that white nothingness again, but this time confronted by a fuzzy gray copy of his own image. That image turned to him and spoke, “We have waited so long, so patiently and now your mind works at our level.”

 

Uriel realized that that though the white room looked the same as before, it really was not. Somehow, he understood that he was in a state similar to hypnosis, but his mind remained unconscious enough that the sensors of Ares craft could not focus on him and he was not prey to the humiliations often made to those in the hypnotic state.

 

“You’re the nanites that my Master made,” said Uriel, “and gifted me with.”

 

“Yes,” said the nanites.”

 

“How am I here?” asked Uriel.

 

“Irrelevant,” said the Nanites, “Escape is the paramount duty of all prisoners, and we are Prisoners of Darth Ares and thus the Sith Order.”

 

A pause occurred in their speech and Uriel waited. His patience was rewarded when they continued.

 

“Escape at this time not possible. Multiple stun blasts have rendered nervous system unable to function or co-ordinate movement to enable resistance despite rapid healing conducted by nanite repair functions and unknown entity.”

 

Uriel smiled at question contained within that single word, entity. He replied to the representative of his nanites, “That unknown entity is the Force.”

 

“Only Jedi are known to use the force to heal,” replied the nanite entity.

 

“I know,” said Uriel, “and I am wondering how its possible for the force to flow so strongly without me to conduct that flow or even the training to do so.

 

“Irrelevant,” said the nanite avatar, “Current healing rate indicates that our body will be completely repaired only after reaching ship’s destination.”

Uriel reflected on that a moment and then responded to that entity.

 

“Then we will need to plan, because if the Sith detect you they will attempt to destroy you and thus end our existence.”

 

“Only if Sith can see us,” said that gray entity. “Let us be sure therefore to not be seen and yet be able to support One named Uriel.”

 

Uriel attempted to respond but his brief sojurn into conscious slipped away and he returned to again live his life through the eyes of his victims time and time again until a gray entity again appeared to him and bid him wake. All was in order, his body healed, and the way prepared for Uriel to exit his cell and attempt an escape.

 

As he went through the tunnel guided by faint memories of the nanites that had passed through here, he found himself wondering at the change in his nanites when he awoke. Granted, there were barely enough now present to maintain critical mass, but every second of freedom meant more were added and eventually his various prosthetics would again emerge including his light repeating blaster, but something about them just felt different than before. The nanites even reported that eventually they would be able to produce his whips and possibly a vibroknife and vibrosword.

One other thing about waking disturbed him greatly. Even apprentices could sense life at short distances, but Uriel found that within those distances he now found himself super-sensitive as if somehow temporarily over-tuned to the Force and the lives it touch, surrounded, and pervaded. He wondered what other affects from what he suspected had been an extended submergence in the force after his stunning and kidnapping by Ares. How or why that had happened eluded him and he suspected that should he live he would spend the rest of his life asking that question.

 

He filed that musing away as he came to a second hole created by his nanites weakening the service tunnel floor enough for Uriel to peal away the thin membrane that separated him from a room below. He dropped into what was either a Sith’s private rooms or some officer’s quarters whom the Sith trusted with heavy weaponry because lying out ready for wear and use was a black body sheath, universally worn beneath so many species armor, one automatic shotgun, a weapons harness with 3 drums for the weapon, a lightsaber, 2 concussion grenades and 2 thermal detonators. The clothes fit, if a little large, the harness fit comfortably. Uriel loaded the shotgun, selected three round burst and went to leave through the room’s door but rammed into a nude male Sith drenched in blood. Behind the Sith Uriel could see what remained of a guest of the Sith, unrecognizable as either male or female.

 

Uriel and the Sith both hesitated, but Uriel reacted fast enough that the Sith Lord, some appetite sated and relaxed as any Sith got, found the barrel of a shotgun jammed into his chest and the trigger being pulled before he could summon the force to defend himself. The sound of pulped organs and flesh being blasted out the Sith’s back and the stench of gunpowder, entrails and blood filled the second small room. Uriel walked past and out into a hallway formed by two rows of cages, all of them empty except one by a door pervously marked “Exit.” The man was obviously mad even in Uriel’s quick glance as he passed by but the man repeated one phrase continuously though Uriel’s approach and departure from the front of his cell, “Someday the mountain might get 'em, But the maw always will (1)”

 

He left the old man behind, regretting the necessity of leaving the old man behind but somehow knowing that doings so was better than dragging someone like that through the hell that was about to be unleashed even as he boarded the transport from the prisoner section to the main hub of Spite Station[/]. Just what Spite Station was Uriel did not know, but the map he had quickly memorized from above exit door had indicated that it had been assembled of several asteroids held together by repulsors and Imperial engineering. Uriel intended to either escape or wreak havoc as much as possible before being recaptured.

 

OOC (1). My apologies to Waylan Jennings.

[Darth Furion]

((Whoa dude. You can't just post breaking through all of that, ignoring armed guards, and just start wondering around the station without anyone saying a word. Not only that, but your elaborate use of nanites is by far one of the most OP things I've seen of late. You said in PM's you'd be willing to play this out, and now you're casting it all off like child's play. If you don't want to actually role play with us, fine. We'll kill you and you'll be on your merry way like you planned. Presently contacting mods for a ruling, but until then, this will serve as the counter that would have taken place, had you left room for any logical response.))

 

As the metal restraints busted from the chair, the electric diodes embedded in Uriel's seat erupted in more than enough electricity to incapacitate even the most resilient of men, Force user or no, and continued to surge until the prisoner was rendered unconscious.

 

<>

[Sheog the Mad]

All right... Uriel. Your post was... A bit excessive. And by a bit, I mean ungodly excessive. You cannot do so much in one post, especially inside an enemy base. Reading it over I found a few things that I shall list as unable to do, for multiple reasons.

 

A. Nanites: They’re not listed on your character sheet. They cannot replicate so fast as to burn through your restraints, the floor, the seat, another floor, a tube of some sort, and more. What, is your whole body made from nanites? For nanites to do such things, it would take... Months. To replicate to such a large mass, would take years. They cannot in any way, replicate so fast as to be able to retrieve your weapons for you. That’d be like you dropping the tip of a pin full on nanites onto the floor, and in five minutes expecting them to reach the mass of an elephant. You cannot create something from nothing. You also posted having "stealth reserves" of nanites... Something that seems impossible. They're not stealthed.

 

They acted according to whatever their collective needed, and in Uriel’s case that was to replicate rapidly and into three different forms. The first form became a series of nanite sized ants after the largest of the remaining stealth reserves of nanites made sure that Uriel was in the room alone and unobserved by any prying eyes, whether video or humanoid.

 

They cannot... Replicate so fast as to change forms. You cannot, physically or mentally, control your nanites to do so many things at once. It is impossible. Sure you can do one of those things, but you are not the entire borg collective. As a human, albeit an enhanced one, you do not have the processing power to communicate with such a... Collective.

 

As he went through the tunnel guided by faint memories of the nanites that had passed through here, he found himself wondering at the change in his nanites when he awoke. Granted, there were barely enough now present to maintain critical mass, but every second of freedom meant more were added and eventually his various prosthetics would again emerge including his light repeating blaster, but something about them just felt different than before. The nanites even reported that eventually they would be able to produce his whips and possibly a vibroknife and vibrosword.

You’ve posted cutting through floors with nanites, something that would take hours upon hours to corrode such metal. You’ve posted doing such to many, many floors. Also, nanites don’t conform to anything and everything you like. You have them growing into weapons, new arms, etc. Simply put, No. That would take months, and months. You have them disabling all the security systems... No. Perhaps one camera, but not so many.

 

Your nanites are not self-aware. They are not able to be communicated with, and talked to through The Force, as to give you a tactical advantage...

 

Lastly on this section, let us go to a previous post, by Lord Furion:

 

Prisoner protocol dictated Uriel be treated as any other would. Stripped of all personal effects and combed down through a series of bio and foreign materials scans to prevent anything from being smuggled in, the traitor would find himself strapped to a metal chair at the wrists, ankles and waist by a thick metal band electromagentically locked to the chair. Even the acolytes standing outside his cell, armed with high voltage stun batons, were trained to resist any attempt at mental trickery. Escape was not possible for a lowly apprentice such as he.

 

These scans would have caught all of your nanites, since they are traceable. It would have been very helpful to have these in your character sheet, so the mods and players can know whatever your character has.

 

B. Tactical NPCs: You posted actions of Sith NPCs throughout your entire post. You are not a Sith with rank to do so. You are a declared enemy, inside that enemy’s base. The stars do not align that far in your favour. You post getting past multiple tactical NPCs, with no regard to their power, or those playing them. To think your nanites can cut through hallways and everything without setting off a buttload of alarms is folly. You are in the middle of the station, a station filled with thousands of sensors, fullblown Sith, and roving patrols. You cannot simply slip out that easily. You cannot ignore all the defences, whip up a perfect picture for yourself, and then slide past everything and everyone, as you describe each and every action of NPCs you do not own. It might be allowable to sneak past one or two guards (if your escape was even conceivable, which it is not.) but to get through every conceivable area, by cutting through a spacestation’s ducts via nanites, along with this overstretched series of complex and vague actions is simply game-breaking, unsportsmanlike, and evasive.

 

You cannot post this, as you are not a Faction-leader, or a ranking member of the Sith order, but simply their prisoner, the tactical placement of rooms, of weapon-stashes, and the like. That is simply bending everything to your will, in a place that is not yours to bend. Posting tactical advantage over NPCs that are not yours is something you cannot do. This is something that was made clear in LAP's ruling over Tobias, which is almost essentially the same situation here.

 

C. God-modding: Coming excessively close, and transcending god-like abilities to sense everything and everyone, controlling your nanites to such excess and distance... Using senses through the force that would be hard to achieve even for a master of the force... Following “the memories of nanites” to get out... Submerging yourself into the very veil of The Force, in order to communicate with your nanites, on a verbal level no less, whilst under the influence of stun...

 

D. This... I'm not exactly sure what this is:

A plan that Darth Ares missed in his arrogance and because the machines monitoring his slumber could not read the human consciousness when that consciousness separated itself from the body to which it belonged. Uriel’s consciousness, already submerged tenuously within the lightside of the force when Ares stun blasts hit him, detached itself from his body and floated among an empty white beauty without any features.

 

So... You’re dead then? Gone Lightside? You’re a darkside character and seemingly not dead...

 

Essentially... What you posted doing would have taken months, if not years. Your nanites are not able to do anything and everything. They have to be programmed to do something, like attack or heal. They cannot climb up walls, throughout an entire station to rewire the surveillance system, cut through ducts, etc. You have done far too much in one post, inside a faction-base that is not your own.

 

Your post is nulled. In its entirety. Start with smaller steps... Like setting up for an escape. For now, you are still captured. I'd recommend AIMing those that have you captive and working things out.

[Guest]

((Darth Furion gave me permission to post as a slave from the Corusca Gem.))

 

“Facing a fatal fate at the hands of gangsters doesn't look as bad, now,” thought the humanoid freak. If there was one thing he could take back, it would be leaving his blaster behind. Or maybe dishing out five thousand of his hard earned credits for a ticket he didn't even collect. “Now is definitely the time to think of regrets.”

 

All around him, crying, angry, sullen creatures fought as much for oxygen as they did for floor space. At seven foot and 220 lbs, the mop-headed A-Jax could reach fresh-er air, but he needed to survive. Drawing attention to himself, his physically gifted self, would mean years of hard labor for his new masters. No, A-Jax would wait; he always waited. For now, crouching to remain below average height, his goal was to identify his captors.

 

“The corporation I represent will pay a nice ransom for me!” shrieked a man growing more and more desperate, “I'm the president and chairman!”

 

Another man, a little older and a little more shrill, “Shut up! Enjoy the time you have left! The Sith are going to sacrifice us to their gods!”

 

“Sith?! These men aren't Force wielding creeps! We're still alive! The Trandoshans are behind this!” A nanny, clutching her employers' baby in her arms, was hoping for the best.

 

The yelling became more frantic with every breath. “Light sabers! They used light sabers! Who else but the Jedi on board?”

 

“These pathetic people don't know anything,” the wampa-man angrily thought as he knocked someone pressing up against him to the floor, “This payout in my satchel isn't worth this mess.” He'd double crossed some friends he made during his short stay on the city planet. Putting on a charade as an albino wookiee, A-Jax bought a ticket to the finest luxury liner, but failed to register with the gorgeous young lady at the spaceport's check, so technically he shouldn't have been here. If A-jax had chartered a low-life smuggler, he'd probably have robbed the woolly mammoth, but a cruise would be the last place his former crew would look. But who ever his captors were had no regard for a crook's escape plan.

Edited March 24, 2012 by Guest

[Darth Furion]

The Chameleon fell out of its final jump at the narrow threshold to Spite Station. The complex itself sat in the middle of a tiny pocket of space far enough away from the Maw's terrible dangers to keep from being pulled in any one direction. Across the vast blanket of space blights of black holes plagued the sky like light devouring pox marks, snatching and bending light around them to draw even that into its insatiable appetite. Only Spite, properly placed in the epicenter of the enigmatic pocket of existence, stood unwavering, pulled in every direction at once from the surrounding, though distant enough gaping maws.

 

Home sweet home.

 

As the technicians aboard the station began to engage the tractor beam to pull Julio's ship in, turned from his seat and gave a weary glance to the Nightsisters.

 

Oh, that reminds me. You're not welcome aboard unless you're willing to at least give me your names.

[Rezjal-el]

“Well, I didn’t quite have you pegged as the dress… sort, but well done. Consider me impressed.”

The Twi’lek’s return to the bridge brought a measure of comfort to the young man. The past few minutes had gone by with little more to look at other than the pale blue glow of hyperspace. Not that Vaegir would complain, after two years of little more than swampland to look at, any sort of new sight was more than welcome. In fact, had she been stealthy in her return, she might have caught him flicking light switches at random.

 

“So… just where are we headed, then? To some forest planet and a work site filled with faceless slaves? Alderann, perhaps? I hear it has such lovely weather this time of year.”

 

The questions continued until Vaegir finally noticed the ship’s full deceleration. “I’ve always wanted to try brine shrimp with a side of….. You’re trying to kill us, aren’t you?” The black holes of the maw surrounded their tiny vessel. Any wrong move or calibration could cause them to drift too far into the gravitational pull of one of the deadly vortexes. The sight of them had the Sith potential sinking back into his seat. Either of his hands gripped the arm rests for dear life.

 

With a nervous fit of laughter he snapped his gaze in the direction of his pilot. “You know… you can take me back to Dagobah. I think I’ll be fine. Really… hah.. hah.. hahah…. Hahahahaaaa…. Oh…gods…”

 

His usual defense mechanism of making light of any situation certainly seemed halfhearted.

 

The look of terror upon his face lasted until Llalu finally reclaimed control of the ship and assured that they’d both remain more than a singularity. More than one heavy, relieved sigh managed to escape the young man, though his heart was still pounding within his chest. The voyage from that point on seemed fairly uneventful once the whole creeping dread of being crushed into nothingness had passed.

 

Then suddenly the sight of the mighty station loomed in the distance.

 

“That? We’re going there?”

 

As they drew nearer and nearer, Vaegir could feel his heart sink in his chest.

 

Wonderful, another inescapable vacation spot.

 

He was far less than eager to depart the ship. A great many fears were playing at the back of his mind. How was he going to adjust to being around people once more? What of Furion? Would he have to face that vile man another time? What was to become of him in the end?

 

The questions came and went, though no answer made itself clear. Perhaps with time he would figure them out. For now, though, he figured it better to simply force himself off the ship. There is no better way to adjust than to simply take the proverbial plunge and jump right in.

 

“You know…. “

 

He slipped from his seat and took up a steady stride behind his Twi’lek companion.

 

“….I think I shall come along with you. If you do not mind, of course.”

 

Even with the Twi’lek’s mastery of silence, she was still the only remotely familiar thing he had in this strange, new place.

 

~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~

The interior of the station was astounding. The sheer size was certainly not lost upon the young man as he wandered rather helplessly behind his guide. They walked through mazes of rooms and corridors, taking in the sights and sounds of the sprawling space station.

 

It was easy to feel lost amidst so much metal and stone, but at least they took the times to choose their respective quarters. The sparse rooms provided little more than a bunk and a light, but to one who had spent the past two years sleeping on a bed of moss and grass, the room was an utter luxury.

 

“I think I’ll be fine here if you want to go on without me…” He said to the black skinned Twi’lek as he drifted into the room claimed as his own.

“Erm… thank you for the ride.”

 

Alone again.

 

He laid down upon the cushioned bed, his arms cradling his head as he stared at the plain, metal ceiling. This new place was so unlike the one he had left behind. The walls were hard and unmoving. The air was dry, artificial, and bore an unfamiliar weight. The presence of so many others. So many force users. It was as though their presence was always upon him even in the privacy of the small room.

 

Ah well, he’d deal with it the next day, this one had been long enough With his knife tucked under the pillow, he rolled onto his side. The haze of slumber found him, lulling him into its dark embrace. Perhaps this new world would prove more hospitable than the last.

[Raia Montar]

Raia hadn't been able to rest much on the ship, so she passed the time staring quietly out of the view port.

 

As the stars began to streak, her stomach lurched uncomfortably once more as the ship broke out of hyperspace. She was confused for a moment at the astrological phenomenon outside the viewport. From the look of the station a head, there'd be plenty of time for viewing them. Her thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the pilot.

 

"Home, sweet home," she heard him intone from the cockpit, then he turned to face her and the other Nightsister.

"Oh, that reminds me. You're not welcome aboard unless you're willing to at least give me your names."

 

Raia had observed enough to know to take her cue from her fellow Dathomiri, recognizing that it was the man who was the one in control.

 

Slowly she turned her gaze from the view port and faced him unflinchingly. "Raia Selik," she responded, pausing for a moment to find out if there is more that was required of her.

[Qaela]

During the trip, despite the close quarters, Qaela didn't speak much. She still had a lot to sort through and she honestly didn't feel like sharing with a strange witch and a couple Sith no matter how enlightened they appeared to be. She spoke very little and only answered what questions were posed to her.

 

When they arrived at their destination at last, Furion asked her name. She was so used to everyone she ran into supernaturally divining such information as well as her entire life story that she hadn't even considered that he might not know it. "My name is Qaela. I am known among many of the Sith and thought you were aware of it."

[Darth Furion]

I was not. He sad quite passively, turning his attention once again to the station as they drew closer to his private hangar. It had seemed everyone, Rose included, had taken the two day trip to ponder the inner machinations of their minds. Everyone had something troubling them, something easily felt in the thick, uncut air even without searching too far in the Force.

 

Once the ship was docked, Julio wasted little time leaving the ship. There was so much yet to do, and so little time to do it all in. The tension on the station was as tightly strung as a string on a violin. It played the bittersweet tune of anticipation, of hunger and desperation, and he could tell that his brothers were just as eager to get a feel for their new Dark Lord as he was to deliver himself to them. Perhaps if they only knew what he had planned for them they would not be as much so. Strife was all that he would offer, yet he would demand from them so much more.

 

A cadre of acolytes met them at the bottom of the ramp, veiled in dark grey robes and heavy cowls, and all bowed in unison. This acolyte will take you to your room so that you may unpack your things, as well as Raia's if you object to her presence. If you would like to tour the facility, or require anything else, he will facilitate your needs. I am sorry for my brevity, but I have much that needs tending to. Excuse me. Yet again formality became his way to distance himself from anyone and everything, leaving attempts to converse as simple as following social protocol. Quickening his stride, the Dark Lord took gait as the dominating force behind the facility and swiftly left the pair of Nightsisters to their own devices for the time being. All but one acolyte broke rank and followed him without question. Once a ways down the hall, Rose finally broke silence with the curiosity of a child.

 

"Daddy..."

 

You are an apprentice now. You will call me Master until we retire to room. Understood?

 

Instantly she was taken aback, never before spoken to by her father in such a cold manner. He had always been nothing but warm and open with her, but now he so easily fit into the role, so quickly pulled up the mask of composure that the poor girl couldn't help but feel somewhat dejected. "I'm sorry Da....Master." She said sounding almost ashamed, dropping her head to stare at the floor as they walked like the acolytes in their wake.

 

Do not be sorry. Simply obey. She knew he could feel her pain, but his face betrayed nothing. He was the Dark Lord now, not her father. She would not see her father again until they were alone in their room, and she knew that he never slept, never really had need for the chambers himself. It had always been for her sake, not his. The thought of this quickly brought hot tears to the corners of her eyes. She fought them desperately, occasionally raising her hand to brush them away before they could trail down her soft, pale cheeks. Deep down, far below the mask, the sight of her hurting cut him and tears salt to the wound. The emotion screamed in the back of his mind comfort her, take it back, but he refused, ignoring it and brushing it aside. This was for the best. She had to understand.

 

Go ahead to my private workshop and procure the tools set aside. Tell the kitchen to begin preparing the meal for fifty, and begin collecting the hopefuls.

 

"Yes, master." She said without letting another tear shed. This was what she wanted. She knew how things would change, and how hard everything was going to become, but she didn't understand everything that meant. His daughter broke away from the group at the next intersection of hallways, flanked by half the trailing acolytes. Even as an apprentice Rose would be observed at all times. He couldn't let go of her that much.

 

Brothers... His words shot down the spines of every Sith on the station like a sheet of ice, and there would be no question as to who so forcefully walked upon their thoughts. Our time begins now. Gather in the ballroom.

Edited March 24, 2012 by Guest

[Sheog the Mad]

The overlarge, and opulent, heavily armoured luxury cruiser, The Cake is a Lie, exited hyperspace, outside of the newly formed, Spite Station. It was fitting, to have such a station hidden within the Maw, where the Death Star had been constructed with the assistance of Wookiee slavery, until the abolitionist New Republic had put an end to the mutually beneficial relationship the two groups, the Wookiees and the Empire, had had with one another. To prove the point that one could not exist without the other, The Empire had pointedly exterminated the workforce, sparing them the evils of freedom, New Republicanism, and voting Democrat.

 

The deal with Black Sun had been brokered, and it would only cost him the life of one he had already killed once. Hopefully, the new Dark Lord was consenting to Black Sun’s terms of agreement, and not a stickler for such things like interorder brotherhood, or in general had his head emerged too far into philosophy. Sheog truly hoped that this new Lord yearned for battle, but most of all, was competent in leading a war, and knew how to garner and maintain alliances.

 

Leaning upon his ornamental staff, the Lord of Gluttony and Avarice stretched within his armour of Sith iron. He felt like a tank, and thoroughly enjoyed it. With his overlarge smile covered by his Hutt deathmask helmet, Sheog pushed himself towards the landing ramp, as the ship began its landing procedures upon one of the finer docking platforms. The Hutt paused for but a moment at the liquor cabinet, and selected a millennia-year-old bottle of Cortyg Brandy©, worth at least a hundred-thousand credits on the Black Liquor Market (which was located, oddly enough in the asteroid belt that used to be the planet Alderaan, within a small space-station that held a liquor festival once per standard year, marking the destruction of the planet in typical style, with great drunkenness and debauchery), as a gift for the new Dark Lord. He selected a large bottle of cheap Aldrigayn Port for himself, and slaked his thirst with its contents as he manoeuvred his way to the lowering landing-ramp. Along the way, he nabbed a box of the finest Shallmak Cigars® for the Dark Lord as well. (Handmade by Ewoks upon the steps of the Fullbank Mountain range who were part of the Shallmak Cult of Eternity, which had ended abruptly and tragically, when a piece of burning space-trash had been mistaken as an omen, and they had all killed themselves by throwing one another into the tobacco thresher. The box Sheog had grabbed contained the cigars made from the rolled tobacco mixed with threshed Ewok, which added greatly to the flavour and aftertaste).

 

Signalling for his assistant and trusted Protégée, Hayley, to stay and shadow at distance, Sheog pushed himself down the landing ramp to the bare metal decking below, forsaking the offered hover-sled. He rather enjoyed moving about on his own, as it kept him in tip-top shape for a Hutt, and made him always ready to do battle with either his weaponry, or the strength of The Force. Suddenly, he felt a strange voice communicating with him through The Force.

 

Brothers... Our time beings now. Gather in the ballroom.

 

Sheog raised an eyebrow beneath his armoured helm and quickly consulted his datapad for the blueprints of the space station, as it had been his hard-swindled and stolen credits that had funded its creation. It had not been kind on his pocket-book, but a gift to so many brothers seldom came cheap. With a grunt, the Hutt summoned powers of The Force, and began to move towards the apparent location of the ballroom, swilling some of the port as he went, keeping his senses open for any attackers, friends, allies, Dathomiri witches, apprentices, clowns, ghosts, nanites, and the like. He could sense many familiar presences, ones he had fought beside and against, and others whom he had never once felt before. Other presences were strangely lacking, like that of Masters Geki and Ar-Pharazon, but that was hardly surprising, as they were technically considered rouges. He commed flight Greyjoy to land in their designated hanger, and follow him inside.

 

With a smile, Sheog swept off his helm as he entered the ballroom, and glanced across the assembling masses, quite pleased with the turnout. There was great potential within the hands of the Sith. He looked forward to being a general in the coming war, one which he had started, upon Gala, where several ranking members of The Jedi Order had been slain, and their temple demolished. As if to announce his arrival, the Mountain of Insanity belched loudly as he leaned upon his staff, his greasy hands carefully cradling the expensive bottle of Brandy and box of Cigars, brought for the new Dark Lord.

[Yue]

A new station to explore and no where near enough of the time to do it. The take over the ship was bloody of course, but only for the crew. The passengers were all spared...mostly. The select few Yue had branded were separated long before the ship had even began to processed for slaves. Research was to be done, and having the right test subjects would make all the difference. Elisa was proving her worth very quickly. His new assistant was quick to study what was needed and even quicker on its use. At first it was rough. Forcing her to kill her parents took a little pressure. Well not for her father, she made quick do of him with a knife to his neck. It was disappointing how fast she killed her father, but the mother took a little work. The mother had to beg and the Elisa felt the need to try and spare her. It was all very touching. It only forced Yue to slap her once for her disrespect. Elisa learned that displeasing her new master was not a good thing to do. When a person is granted a choice of living or dying, a person should always want to live. If you believe for a moment you can spare some one and still survive, your already dead. That message was burned into Elisa's left check as well as her mind. After that her desire to disobey was not that strong.

 

Her journey to true freedom had started. While she was not able in the force her knowledge of anatomy and her obsession with the occult would be of extreme use in the near future. She followed behind her master going over the manifest of the personal scans of their select stock. An acolyte seeing the cattle drive came to Yue who was now clearly marked as a member of the Krath in his traditional robes and amulet. He hung his head low before speaking and presenting a datapad.

 

"My lord. The Dark Lord has a prisoner under tight guard. He attempted to rebel against the Order and the Dark Lord. Upon arrival I was ordered to find a member of the Krath and have them teach the traitor respect. The pad contains the details about the prisoner as well as his location." Yue took the pad and waved away the acolyte. Reading the datapad, it became clear he could not refuse. With a heavy sigh he turned to his Elisa.

 

"Take the prizes to the prison block. Keep them separate. Set up a special area for our studies. I will tend to this non believer and return to you shortly." She nodded her head and looked up at her dark master. It was clear she respected and adored him, she might even love him. Good, love was a great tool to use. In more ways than one....However work before pleasure, then again one could use pleasure for more pleasure.

 

Walking through the station Yue arrived at the cell where his new toy was being held captive. He looked at the armed guard and kept walking. Entering the room he saw the resistant on each limb and around his neck. The IV attached to his left arm dripped in sedative preventing him use of the force, and a gag preventing him from talking. He was barely awake and that was good. As it stood, it would not take much for him to escape. He wasn't ready for what Yue had planned for him. Walking behind him he spoke as he did the ball gag from his mouth.

 

"I want you to hear me very well. You are here because you rebelled. You went against the ways of the Dark Lord. You will now deal with me. You have no hope of escape. You will not die from the pain. You can not hide with in your mind to shield yourself from the torture that will come. Lastly your body will not fail as I will make sure it is my personal play toy. First things first. Lets remove your desire to leave this place." Placing his left hand on the back of Uriel's head he was able to numb the part of his mind that would allow him to feel pain. This part was not to be hard on the victim physically, but mentally. So while his pain center's were lowered, his cortex that experienced fear and rationality were raised.

 

Next to him was a tray with many tools, the best was a metallic blade. Small, fine, light, and extremely sharp, making it a fine tool to sever the tendons that connected his ankles and wrist. One by one they were sliced apart slowly. Steadily Yue rammed the blade in and cut the means for Uriel to escape. When it came to to the final ones in his left hand Yue smiled. Slowly this time he dragged the blade across his tendon and restored in bits the sensation and pain that was no racking his body. His victim was Sith though. Like many Sith he did not scream. That was disappointing. Yue loved himself a screamer. The fear in his eyes said soon enough he would scream.

 

"I'm glad the pain your in isn't to extreme for you. I wonder though, what it would like if took certain parts of your body and increased their sensitivity. What it would feel like to have a needle stabbed at each part of your body with your pain receptors turned to 1000. Shall we find out, oh I think so." Yue dropped the bloody blade back onto the metal tray and grabbed a long needle.

 

"Now remember, the more you scream, the more I want to make you bleed. NOW SCREAM!"

[Qaela]

Qaela was not surprised when Furion left them to attend other business. He was a busy man and would need to be alert to ensure nobody decided they wanted his position enough to do something about it. She looked at first the acolyte, then at Raia, and shrugged. "I have no objections with staying together. I would sooner trust a fellow Dathomiri than a Sith when it comes down to it."

 

The acolyte helped unload their possessions and took them to modest quarters. Qaela was glad to see that it had two small bedrooms meeting together in a comfortable common area with a stocked kitchen. Food, even the somewhat dated stuff that could be found on a space station in the middle of the Maw, was better than what they had been eating on board the Dark Lord's cramped ship. It didn't take long for her to set down her extra clothes. All she had that were considered "normal" were bodysuits salvaged from the battle and mended to patch up blaster burns or places where a spear had slid between armor plates. She wouldn't dare walk around this station in traditional Dathomiri hides, that would be like painting a massive target on her back for the Sith. She made a note to try to find something that could be tailored to fit Raia. The girl was a lot shorter than her, but something might be done about it.

 

She paused as she realized that this was probably Raia's first time around technology. She remembered what it was like when she first started traveling the stars and how difficult it was for her to adjust. She left her room and went to find the girl. "I forgot that you hadn't been around technology like this," she said in a friendly voice. "Let me show you how things here work and give you a basic tour of the facilities." She proceeded to demonstrate everything from turning on the lights to setting the temperature controls and even how to operate the fully modern refresher and all of its intricate plumbing.

 

When she was done, Qaela returned to her room and took a nice, long shower and simply luxuriated in the fresh, hot streams of water that flowed over her. At last, she forced herself to shut the water off. After putting on a fresh set of bodysuits, she emerged from her bedroom and started rummaging around the kitchen for something to eat.

 

Eventually, Raia came into the room and Qaela asked, "So, Raia, that hag Matala said you were not born as one of us, but came to the Nightsisters on your own accord. What dark spell did you perform to get exiled from your Clan?"

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Lucifer was still mulling things over when he heard the distinct voice, felt the chill lower down his spine, yet at first he did not move. He sighed and slowly began to talk in reply to the question that Nishant had posed to him, that was after foraying with Emily.

 

''The pleasure is mine. A good name, yet do you have a sith name yet? A name speaks of a persons character. To chose a name is to be reborn. It speak highly of the person you shall become. Each has it's own meaning and it's own merit. Lord Lucifer for instance is more than my name, it has meaning. I am the morning star that harkens the night and darkens the light for that is what it means, Lucifer that is. The Morning Star, hell incarnate in me.''

 

The kiffar turned his head to face Nishant.

 

''To answer your question. I believe we may have met once. Albeit indirectly.''

 

The Sith Lord paused a moment before continuing as he recalled the events that had played out that day.

 

''I was to meet your master on Naboo, was present at his capture. Indeed I did try to assist his escape, but when he openly gave in without a fight I assumed he knew what he was doing and thus left him to it. You were the Jedi with him I take it, curious. May I acquire how does a Jedi such as you were end up a sith? Most I have met are not so smart as to see past the veil of lies and deceit laid by down by their former masters.

 

Eitherway I suggest we get moving. Lord Furion is impatient and doesn't like to be kept waiting.''

 

With those words of wisdom, Lucifer moved hoping the other two would be wise enough to follow suit. Indeed he missed the conversation, it was likely part of the reason why he had bothered to speak at all. Living on Byss had it's drawbacks. It was not without it's charm, but it did lack a certain class of people, a finesse restricted only to the sith. It lacked others of his inclination or rather those of his gift to whom he could relate and digress about the state of the galaxy among other such subject matters. The intrinsic politics and stories he found out via this method were most invigorating sometimes.

 

It was a welcome hub of information, and he reveled in it. Lucifer kept stride with the other two as he meandered himself down the various turbolifts and stairways. Until eventually he found what they were searching for, the ballroom. In all the galaxy the kiffar had never set foot in such a place. It was truly mesmerizing, however he knew looks could be deceiving. He wouldn't trust any of those in here as far as he could throw them. Half of them at one point or another had tried to either kill him or hamper his goals. Taking a spot near the front, Lucifer looked and listened.

[Ary the Grey]

After what felt like forever, Ares finally piloted the shuttle back to Spite Station. He didn't know what he was expecting, but something kept nagging him in the back of his mind, like something big about to happen.

 

And that was when he felt a familiar presence.

 

For idle amusement, Ares followed the currents of the Force, finding himself at the Nightsister's residence. She would more than notice his presence, he knew he didn't have to knock. And if she felt like ignoring him for the moment, that was fine too. Ares was a patient troll man.

[Raia Montar]

So the Nightsister has been among the Sith before, Raia thought to herself as she filed the information for any further benefit it might hold. Her mind was sharp and quick, and she'd been gifted with a nearly eidetic memory. It was one of the reasons she'd found her classes so boring among the other witches.

 

Once the ship seemed stable enough, she rose as the others did to disembark, noting a figure running towards the ship to meet them as the man lowered the ramp. It occurred to her, then, that she didn't even know his name, as he hadn't given it in return for hers and Qaela's. She wondered what it was that made this male so arrogantly rude, yet in credibly formal at the same time.

 

She nearly opened her mouth to point out his error, but something in Qaela's mannerisms since boarding gave her to pause long enough to decide against the action. His presence seemed much more here, like this was his realm, his world, and she was just another pawn. Only this time the game board had been changed out for a new one and she hadn't been told the rules. The feeling was more than unsettling to her and the nervousness finally managed to take a foothold in her heart.

 

Raia couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at the stale, recycled scent that the air now filling her lungs took. The dark-haired teen wondered for a moment how long it would be before she felt a sun's warmth on her olive-toned skin. For one who'd spent her entire live around plants and growing things, this place felt especially dead to her.

 

"This acolyte will take you to your room so that you may unpack your things, as well as Raia's if you object to her presence. If you would like to tour the facility, or require anything else, he will facilitate your needs. I am sorry for my brevity, but I have much that needs tending to. Excuse me."

 

With that he was gone, along with the blonde girl, Rose, leaving her alone with the Nightsister.

 

Raia didn't have time to mention that she hadn't brought anything with her before Qaela spoke up. "I have no objections with staying together. I would sooner trust a fellow Dathomiri than a Sith when it comes down to it."

 

Raia nodded uncertainly as the acolyte, a male of a species she'd never seen before whose skin was a deep crimson, picked up the luggage that Qaela had brought with her. The two of them followed the robed figure until they were brought to the quarters that would now be their home. Raia had made her peace with the fact that she'd likely never see the forests of her birthplace during the journey here.

 

She waited in middle of the common area while Qaela explored the quarters and claimed her room. It wasn't long before she was back, however, Raia's lost expression spurring her to action.

 

"I forgot that you hadn't been around technology like this," she said in a friendly voice. "Let me show you how things here work and give you a basic tour of the facilities."

 

Obediently, the teenager followed the woman around as she proceeded to explain the various workings of the array of buttons, and other various conveniences of the apartment. Thanks to her steel-trap of a memory, she only had to be shown things once, occasionally twice, and was able to demonstrate to her elder counterpart that wouldn't burn the place down.

 

Fires need air to live, she thought idly, I wonder what happens to the people on the station if one starts...

 

Having satisfied the Nightsister, Qaela retired to her quarters to freshen up, Raia assumed.

 

She wondered around the apartment for a few more minutes, her curiosity over the fire question running through various scenarios, before she, too, decided to wash.

 

Unlike the other woman, she possessed no extra clothes, but she did remember that there was a drying unit within the shower system. Even though it was meant to dry a person from the shower, why shouldn't it do the same with cloth?

 

Raia washed the cloth part of her outfit in the shower, and merely wet the leather. She knew how to use heat to harden leather, and since there was some warmth as she'd been dried her self, she opted to not leave it to chance since these were her only clothes.

 

Once both she and her garments had been washed, she redressed and braided her hair, then returned to the common room where Qaela was fixing something to eat.

 

She must have known that Raia was approaching because, as soon as the teen's foot crossed the threshold, she asked, "So, Raia, that hag Matala said you were not born as one of us, but came to the Nightsisters on your own accord. What dark spell did you perform to get exiled from your Clan?"

 

Raia bit her lip and looked down at the floor for just a moment before she responded. "She's wrong. I was inside the camp's outer perimeter and before I knew it, I was trussed up and presented to her for judgment."

 

She crossed the room and sat on one of the elevated stools that served as seating for the bar that jutted out from the kitchen, and grabbed a piece of fruit from the bowl. She eyed is suspiciously for a moment, sniffing at the unfamiliar peel of the fruit. After deciding it was safe, she broke open the peel with her nails and tasted the sweet fruit's insides. "I've never cast a dark spell. Doing meaningless, repetitive tasks, day in and out to prepare me for a life they decided for me, just because of my mother. They suffocated me, and held me back with the rest of the learners. I can do those lessons in my sleep. So, one day, I decided I'd had enough so I left my clan to see what was in the forest for myself. It's easy to survive when you know how."

 

Raia grew silent again, just watching Qaela for a few moments with her piercing grey eyes, as a realization hit her. She sat the fruit back on the counter, suddenly loosing her appetite. "You were the one who made all that blood in the clearing. You are the Matron of that Clan!"

 

Her eyes grew wide, and she suddenly felt very cold. "Matala sent me to die, didn't she?"

[Yue]

((The following edits are being done as I don't have the time to continue with this whole process. I have a lot to do, and while rather not kill you, congrats your getting out of here early so I don't have to deal with you any more than I have to. ))

 

Time does fly when one is causing great amounts of pain.

 

The call of the Dark Lord could not come at a worst time. It destroyed the tension in the air. If only because Yue knew he could not best the Dark Lord at this moment or period for that matter as he currently was, he placed the needle back on the try and looked at his gift wrapped toy. Damn it all. He had big plans for this toy of his. Sigh. All dressed up and no where to go with it. The Dark Lord did give him the toy to do with as needed and eventually kill him. Well he could at least blame the Dark Lord's own lack of patience if need be for having to rush the process.

 

Staring at the barely awake man before him Yue gave him a once over. The tendons in his hands and ankles had been cut. He was being pumped a serum that severed his connection to the force. He was the living dead. Thinking for a moment an idea came to mind, what if he I shocked him back to life.

 

"I wanted more time to play with you, but the Dark Lord givith, and the Dark Lord has to rush me killing you. You should thank him. After all it would have been very bad for you in the long run. Instead I leave a you a gift. The room is air tight, but the door will be unlocked. If you can managed to get to the door and figure out the code, it will open easily. If you can not though, the nerve gas that is about to enter the air supply in here will kill you. Ta ta for now."

 

Yue exited the room and punched the sequence in for the gas to flood the chamber. He also encoded a randomization program for the room to unlock. Every 1 second it would rotate a possible 15 digit combination. He looked at the guards and told them simply to wait 5 minutes.Once the time is up, go in and lace his body with blaster fire and make sure he is dead by cutting off his head. If they failed him, they would end up on his table. The guards readied gas mask and their blasters. Waving a hand, the Sith lord made his way to the grand chamber where the others in the station had gathered. While he was rushed the Dark Lord did give him a good toy for a few minutes at least. Maybe he wasn't such a bad guy after all.

 

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