Korriban

[Lord Asshat]

"Well done my apprentice, one more task after this one."

 

Achzet pushed a button and a robot walked out of the ship. It was a robot Achzet had secretly been working on.

 

"This is a robot with the ability equal to that of me at my training level. Defeat it and we will move on."

 

The robot had pulled a lightsaber from a slot and activated it. It awaited the battle to begin.

 

 

((Don't be afraid to take damage.))

[Ason Antilles]

Transparent shadow dropped itself upon the ground, the viscous liquid bubbling like an oil slick being sucked into the ground beneath it. And then... Nothingness... a cloud of dull grey seethed into the environment, permeating the thin air. The orange orbs that had so illuminated the area fizzled out to nothing, leaving blankness in their wake. All was commonplace once again, nothing new and nothing to dream about. No happenings to look for or situations and scenarios to analyze. It had all receded with Montar.

 

After the situation's dramatic change in scenery, the sith lord rose to his feet. A bare face was replaced with the mask of demons once again, an expressionless facade exhibiting the shear oblivion that Ason had become. His corporeal husk had dawned the rags of a sith lord, a robe of terror now the garb of a sleek murderer. A murderer who has yet to take a considerable portion of life... However, a murderer was not constructed with actions, but was composed of an insidious mind frame. A murderer at heart can be far more deadly than one who had committed such sin numerous times.

 

I simply need another chance...

 

On that note, Ason began his walk out of the temple. As his feet pressed silently upon the stone on which he stood, he felt something call out to him. Oh yes, it was the item that he had originally sought to procure. It was calling to him, a beacon in the force lulling him into the sweet intoxication of the power. A wise text of the master's once read that power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. But it absolutely rocks too. Though the levity of the thought escaped him, the statement's sentiment didn't.

 

Lying upon the tomb of sith lord was an amulet, a six-pointed star laying in wait for him. His eyes were no longer his guides as his frame hovered toward the object, his control over the dark side superseding his limited senses. Only a fool rejects the gifts and weapons at his disposal when faced with the choice between them and the traits of their own mortality. Even simple things became clearer. Through not seeing, one's vision received exponential clarity. Through not hearing, the sounds of the world roared with unrivaled intensity. Through not feeling, one could achieve new definitions of connection with their surroundings.

 

As Ason's touch fell upon the metal, he began feel the coursing crimson in his veins pound through their tubules with renewed vigor. His every bone felt stronger, every muscle bulking slightly. It was an ancient sith amulet of healing, one that channeled the dark magic in order to replenish a dark warrior who thirsted for such. The existence of such had been recorded by the sith texts of Oblivion, and that is when he began to formulate the idea for his newest weapon.

 

However, it was far from completion. Ason put on the artifact, the silver matching the other dangling amulet that he had acquired. The only difference was that one of their purposes was known, and the other remained a mystery... a forbidden cross laying in wait to reveal itself.

 

”

[Raynuk Montar]

((okay, so I'm back again. I got tired of waiting. ))

 

Montar gave Tarrian one of the weirdest looks ever, a mixture of disgust and amusement.

 

"Psh... Like that'd ever happen."

 

He then turned to face Abaddon with a mixture of a grin and a snarl.

 

"Less times then you think brother... But apparently I've been gone too long if you managed to crawl your way back to life.

 

Now... about that cleansing. Not that I dont love this place, its like a third home to me, but I dont quite like carrying the dirt with me inside my chest cavity..."

[Enigmatic]

Only hours later, Revan's ship entered the dark atmosphere of Korriban. Even miles and miles way, Revan could feel it's aura surround and engulf the planet, giving anyone stationed there enhanced power. It was an excellent place for Revan to meditate and possibly train. Although most of the Sith were now fighting in Csilla, there were still many acolytes that could be seen making their way around the area where Revan was landing.

 

Upon landing his ship, the clank could be heard, concluding the landing process. The hatch opened up, and Revan climbed out, breathing in the warm air around him. It was such a feeling he had not felt in a long time. It was soothing, yet painful at the same time. A pain Revan couldn't understand. It had something to do with past experiences and his wretched history which had scarred him ever since, and will not fail to do so for the rest of his days.

[Dagon]

:: A Svelte class imperial shuttle arrives at Korriban, landing amidst the necropili of Dagon's Sith forefathers. While the current incarnation of the Sith held no interest for the now venerable sorcerer, he did still honor his heritage. Dagon took in the greatness of the once mighty Sith empire that surrounded him. Even this grand design, however, had fallen victim to time and complacency. More and more Dagon was coming to the conclusion that immortality lay within inner conflict and turmoil. A content man sought nothing, and therefore was nothing.

 

To the west, Dagon sensed one of his former bretheren. He was about to order comm silence when he felt it within this other Sith too. This thirst, desire, need for conflict.::

 

Locate my wayward brother and bring him to me, unharmed if possible.

[Enigmatic]

Revan continued to move closer to the many shrines that were planted around the area where he had landed his ship. Upon feeling the power of the ancient sith lords engulf the area, he also sensed a familar prescence. The identity of course was a mystery, however the emotions of this unidentified person he could strangely relate to. Although this interested him, he didn't bother to break away from his current task.

 

While most of the Sith were fighting in Csilla, he would take the time to recollect his thoughts and possibly heighten his skills. There were many artifacts, shrines, memorials, and tombs strung out along the surface of the planet, each with a significant meaning and purpose. Most of them harnessed great power, which they could release if the user possessed the right skill. Yet, despite his efforts to seek privacy, he was again bothered.

 

4 odd looking soldiers were approaching him, each holding guns. Revan could sense their alignment, which was leaning towards the darkside, so he didn't bother to prepare himself. He did of course, become in tuned with the force, since the soldiers were still yet unidentified. Upon aproaching Revan, two of them raised their weapons, not to threaten Revan, but to show that it was important.

 

"Come with us, Lord Dagon wishes to speak with you."

 

Revan held a confused look.

 

"Lord Dagon?, Who are you guys?"

 

The soldiers looked at eachother, and then back to Revan.

 

"All will be explained in due time. Follow us."

 

Revan was curious on what was going on. In the middle of nowhere, he was approached by strange soldiers. As he continued to follow them, they suddnely stopped, making a path for Revan. As he looked ahead, he noticed a figure, standing in front of a shrine.

 

"Lord Dagon, we found him."

 

"Lord..Dagon?" Revan thought to himself. He was becoming more curious by the second and was becoming eager to quench his curiosity.

[Dagon]

Yes, I am Dagon, you and I served the same master, back in a time when the Sith order was a cause worth serving. I have since parted ways with the order to pursue a more meaningful agenda than the constant agression for no other reason than that they are Sith. I have since found my purpose in other pursuits. Tell me Revan, how do the Sith fair right now? Do you serve with purpose, meaning?

[Enigmatic]

Revan was slightly familiar with Dagon. Back when Revan was an apprentice, he had heard of Lord Dagon before from overhearing rumors of fellow Sith. He hadn't taken interest, just because he had never met Dagon before. It was odd though the array of questions this man was throwing at Revan.

 

"Well...their all at Csilla, fighting a war I choose not to fight."

 

Revan soon forgot who he was talking to and began to vent, thinking about the battle and the Sith themselves.

 

"Its a pointless fight!...worthless...we will gain nothing, yet still we continue to rush blindly into battle."

 

He stopped, calming himself.

 

"To be honest...I no longer serve a purpose in the order...for the man I once knelt to, is no longer leading the Order. I do not agree with the path the sith have chosen, and I cannot walk down it with them. My services will be offered elsewhere, though that path is still yet a mystery. Just out of curiosity, why was I summoned?"

[Raitaro]

Raitaro gazed out upon the landscape, dark sandy landscape seemed barren at first glance, no place so epic as to warrant Dagon's stern warning. But as he reached out through the force he became acutely aware of what made this such a dreadful place. In silent contemplation he watched at ghostly forms engaged in several thousand years of war. Sith Academies held host to internal and external conflicts, invasions, destructions, most ultimately at the hands of the Sith that ran them.

He watched as a master walked too apprentices along a trail, then ordered them to kill one another purely as a sign of loyalty. He watched as a spray of phantom blood shot through him, the weaker of the two slain after a violent struggle.

 

He turned around to catch a glimpse of two Sith Masters, one the Dark Lord and one soon to become the Dark Lord, battled for pointless supremacy.

 

He saw limbs severed, but the bodies fight on. Orbital bombardments--wreckage flying through the air. Jedi dismembered and placed up in places where the whole world would have no choice but to marvel.

 

Raitaro blinked, shutting out the visages to restore his own clarity. His stare did not change as he turned to Dagon and the Sith. He did not bother interjecting, or even listening to their business. Instead he just took in the sights, and to a lesser extent examined the area through the force. The Sith spirits did not attack him, or even speak to him directly. Instead they continued their eternal struggle, seemingly oblivious to his presence.

 

Raitaro noticed similar effects applied to Dagon and Revan, and couldn't help but wonder why. To accept the Sith as elements of their own seemed reasonable, but Raitaro seemed to beg for torment--as a representative of the more frequently dismembered on this planet. Still, he remained respectfully unphased.

[Dagon]

::Dagon gestured and two Darkwatch soldiers retunred to the shuttle.::

 

Because I am looking for men in need of purpose, people who are driven to act with meaning and see benefit in their endeavours. Join me, and together we can restore the galaxy from its broken state.

 

:: The soldiers returned from the shuttle with two vibrostaffs, which were then given to Dagon's apprentices.::

 

Darkwatch soldier: Your master bids that you fight each other with these.

[Enigmatic]

Revan pondered what the man was saying to him. He was asking Revan to join something he had no idea about. It would all depend on their purpose in the galaxy. The former Sith Lord would not rush blindly into a faction without knowledge.

 

"It all depends...what are you apart of? What exactly am I joining?"

[Dagon]

::Dagon steps closer towards Revan. What he's about to say he has only come to terms with recently himself. Did he change, or was he changed? Dagon whispered the answer in Revan's ear, an answer that could not be spoken aloud.::

[Silas Onnd]

Silas caught the stick in his outstreched hand. He spun it around himself, bringing it to bear, poised toward his opponent. He was ready for this, though he hadn't had much training in his life. His parents had attempted to teach him some basic fighting techniques before they had been attacked by the Jedi, but he hadn't gotten very far. He didn't fear this encounter per se, but he was worried that he would make a fool of himself in front of his master. He turned towards the other padawan.

 

"I like to know my opponents name before I duel them. It makes it seem a little more personal. We've been training under the same master for a little while now, and I never picked up your name. Mine's Silas. After your answer, it's your move."

[Krishna]

After half-reluctantly following the commands of the man named Dagon, the inheritant but not confirmed paternal father he had been searching for all these years, Krishna was barely awake when they landed. Strung out in the back of the ship, also half-asleep, he had night terrors of disturbing visions. He only stumbled out of his chambers to get some water, drank some before looking outside while still in the ship, still adorned in his garb from the other day.

 

Huh... Man, I have a huge headache. Wonder where we're at now...

 

Clutching the top of his nose with two fingers, he breathed deeply before settling back against the wall. He wasn't sure whether this pain was physical or something more. For the time being, he remained where he was, battling the fatigue and praticed keeping his eyes open despite the urge to settle with sleep again.

 

No... I can't do that again. Those visions, geez... Never.

[Raitaro]

The boy gripped the vibrostaff awkwardly, listening to Silas speak. The Clone's words rung in his head immediately.

 

Normally our kind are given a designation that is a sequence of numbers and letters, but the father has requested that you be called Raitaro...

 

"I am... Raitaro."

 

The young Sith didn't feel inwardly confident, but the flourish he put on his weapon seemed to indicate he'd wielded such a weapon before. Raitaro adjusted his grip slowly, going so far as to reverse his handedness a few times. He settled pole weapon into his grip, activating the weapon as he adjusted. The hilt was just over three feet long, with the short blade protruding from the top end. The hilt seemed extremely flexible, made of a nonstandard metal that'd bend quite a bit. In the blinding light of the Korriban day he couldn't see if Silas's was the same, and wouldn't assume so until he'd seen it.*

 

He saw Silas was waiting for Raitaro to begin. Raitaro, not one to waste time when it was apparently his move, started to run toward Silas, launching the blade of his staff forward toward Silas's chest in a clumsy jab...

 

((*I intentionally left it open ended so you don't have to conscribe to my preference of vibrostaff.))

[Enigmatic]

Revan had listened as Dagon's whispered the information into his ear. The result was odd. Revan had been having strange thoughts and dreams about such a thing. It was almost as though he had been predicting this very moment. It seemed he had found his true calling.

 

"I am interested...count me in.."

[Silas Onnd]

Silas caught the weapon thrown to him, examining it quickly. The hilt was almost three feet long, with blades that could extend out from either end. It was lightweight, and if properly used, the wielder could use it in combat almost as well as a third limb. The blades that extended out from both sides were equipped with vibromotors, causing the blades to vibrate at astonishing speeds, causing the slightest glance to transform into a gaping wound. This would be tricky.

 

He activated only one side of the weapon at this point, bringing it to bear as his opponent rushed in. Raitaro threw a jab, rather clumsily in Silas's opinion, at Silas' chest. Silas swung the activated side at the incoming weapon, batting it aside, then followed through bringing the inactivated side around to his is opponent in the left triceps, knocking him over just a few inches. He pivoted around 360 degrees, coming back to face his opponent, just as he recovered. Silas decided to press his offensive, letting his hatred instincts take over.

 

Before when he had let these instincts take over he had completely destroyed the former Grand Admiral Nokrt's quarters aboard the Azure Inferno, without harming himself, or even realizing what he had done until it was finished. If he was to win this battle, he would have to let those instincts take control of his actions. He allowed himself to succumb to these instincts, falling deeper into the hatred he had only deviled in. He planted his staff in the ground, using it as a pole to swing around and sweep his opponents feet out from under him. He heard his adversaries' body hit the grass and rock ground with a thud.

 

Silas stood over him, a triumphant grin creeping onto his face when he felt something hard and sharp impact his left ankle, making a yelp escape from him and causing him to fall to the ground next to his rising opponent. For the briefest moment their eyes met, tension sizzling between them. Both knew that this battle could mean a lot for their training. The winner would have the upper hand, and most likely the master's favor, and the loser would forever be trying to regain that favor. Silas didn't intend to lose.

 

He rolled away on instinct, not fully knowing why until he saw the edge of a blade land no more than six centimeters from his face. He could feel the heat from the friction of the vibroblade as the vibromotor caused it to shake insistently. He turned his roll into a crouch, then extended his knee's bringing himself up to his full height. At 6' 3" he was quite a sight, and an imposing figure. He let the staff come to his side, standing erect, allowing him to gaze fully on Raitaro. They were both sweating, though they had only been fighting for maybe two minutes. Neither was even close to giving up. The other's head eclipsed most of Korriban's sun, giving him an eeire look.

 

Silas nodded to the man in a sign of acknowledgement, then rushed forward. They began their intricate dance once again. For every attack there was a block, for every block there was a counterattack, and so it went. Neither man was ready to give in. Both were tapping into strength reserves they didn't know that had. This is what they lived for, what they knew their very being was about; the art of war. And this war was not just physical, or a war that could be seen. No, this was also a psychological battle, bringing both to the very brink of their sanity. They fought without conscious thought, giving themselves completely to the mysterious energy field known as the Force. It guided their movements, showing them weaknesses of their opponents as well as themselves. It controlled the vibrostaffs they wielded, bringing victory so close, then ripping it just out of their grasp. It was toying with them.

 

Such was the way of the dark side. On the journey here, Silas had learned much about this planet, including its history with the dark side. Many dark things had occurred here, which partially gave Silas the upper hand, and with that advantage came cockiness. He had always been careful to guard himself from that feeling of invincibility, knowing that it had brought many before him a quick and painful downfall.

 

Silas saw an opening in his opponent. He brought his staff down for an overhead strike only to meet the other's, sending him reeling backwards with the momentum he had gained. The two stood a mere four meters away from each other, sweat pouring from every pore in their body. Exhaustion was clearly visible on both faces, yet neither would give up. Silas charged in, stopping himself close to the man.

 

He threw a quick swipe at Raitaro's left arm, but it was a feint, which he knew Raitaro expected, and wasn't surprised when he brought the other end of the vibrostaff through to attack the lower right leg. His opponent had anticipated this, bringing his staff to defend that portion of his body. What he hadn't expected was that the second attack had also been a feint, which allowed Silas to cleanly attack his first intended target. The staff jabbed, barely grazing the other's shoulder, as he had seen his mistake at the last second, and moved to dodge.

 

Raitaro began to fall, not from the wound, but for his own purposes. He jabbed out quickly with the blade of his staff, connecting with Silas' left hip. They hit the ground facing each other, then rolled away, bringing themselves up to face each other once again, but Silas still had one more trick up his sleeve. In his not so distant past, he had been affiliated with the now Emperor Geki, when he had been a part of the terrorist organization, SEED. Before Silas had disbanded, the Emperor had granted him the power of the nanities. These microscopic organisms were self-replenishing, and gave the wielder a few extra tricks, one of which would heal wounds quicker than normal, at a much accelerated rate. This would not stop the pain for a while, since he still needed time to heal, but it would heal him faster than Raitaro, giving Silas the upper hand for the time being.

 

Silas gazed across their battlefield. The wind whipped up, blowing both of their clothes towards the north, bringing a warm breeze from the south. Yes, this is what he lived for, in this moment, he realized that he would never be more content than when he was engaged in combat. He smiled at the thought.

 

”œYour move.”

[Dagon]

Excellent, now if you'll follow me, there is another here that seeks enlightenment.

 

::Dagon went through the great tombs of his forefathers with Revan, watching the duel of his apprentices through a video feed in his helmet. Dagon knew hidden paths and forgotten secrets in this place, he had begun his journey into alchemy here. In the darkness ancient stone gave way to sterile metal, a hidden labcreated by an old ally. Inside the lab, rows of cloning tubes stood against one wall, and various mechanical devices were strewn about. Pressing an emerald green button, Dagon activated the tubes...::

[Nahstaa]

Instantly, the entire lab flared to life, red warning lights igniting as the cloning machines began filling with a translucent pink fluid, and DNA information was retreived from ages old databanks.

 

Off to one side of the lab, A large computer controlled engineering machine quietly went about its business, creating predesigned computer chips and filling them with a massive databank held within the lab. Prosthetic arms, a network of tubes, chemical containers, small electronics and a massive plethora of technology were all on the list of things being speedily designed and transfered to the cloning machines.

 

By the time all of these attachments had been processed, the cloning machines had grown the basic skeletal frame of the man they were constructing, and were now proceeding to plate the entire skeleton in a layer of energy and shock resistant ceramic armour, making the bones as hard and strong as durasteel. Once this process was complete, the machines continued to grow muscle tissue, organs and all the other wonderous bits and pieces that make up a human body.

 

In the final stages, before skin was grown onto the body, the computer chips, power sources, prosthetics and other various pieces of technology were all grafted into the body surgically, and finally concealed when the cloning machines finished the job, and grew the skin onto the body.

 

With a few beeps from the computer, the mans heart was started, and the cloning fluid drained. The whole process took about half an hour, and when it was done, Nahstaa stood dripping in cloning fluid, a grin plastered on his face.

 

"I thought that no one was going to push that damn button. I dont know whats wrong with the damn thing, usually it clones me upon my death... the imperials must have tapped into my holonet feed and cut it off when i died last."

 

Mumbling to himself a little, he looked at his right hand and flexed it, before pointing his index finger in the general direction of a closet at the opposite end of the room. Out of the finger, a thin, snake like tendril of cybernetics extended, and weaved inside the closet, returning to nahstaa with a set of robes, and a belt that was equipped with two lightsabers, and a vibroblade.

 

Turning to the men who had been watching him the whole time, he said

"So, who am I holding responsible for this then?"

[Raitaro]

((OCC Sorry about the delay. Illness set in, I have two infected ears and a sinus infection. No excuse though, I'll keep on. And for future reference, please refrain from posting so much of my action/reaction. A lot of how that fight went didn't line up with how I would have posted it at all.))

 

Raitaro pulled the clasp on his cloak, letting his torn robes fall away and preventing them from hindering his movement. His thin, pale features offered little distraction from the gaping wound in his shoulder which terminated at the end of a metal plug. His cold, sorrowful expression showed little notice of the wound which slowly grew together. His Gen'Dai blood and his Cybernetic implants worked to heal what amounted to a minor scratch--his wound closed and scar tissue already formed along a line of once dripping blood by the time his cloak had his the ground.

 

He said nothing. His choker began to flare in small burst of fiery red as he pulled the vibrostaff up to get in stance. He charged again, his left fist tightly gripped around the center of the weapon, and his right precariously stabilizing the bladeless end. He lunged with his weapon again, this time releasing the staff with his front (left) hand and jabbing awkwardly with his right. Raitaro flicked his wrist to bend the polearm upward around its middle, the weight of his blade holding the striking end in place. He caught Silas's weapon as he raised to defend, slowing the block meanwhile his blade arced over to catch Silas's shoulder--paralleled exactly (and intentionally) to where Raitaro had been hit.

 

As the blade hit resistance, Raitaro loosened his grip on both weapons, sliding his hand up to the center of his staff while allowing Silas to knock away the strike. Raitaro heaved his body weight backward, pulling away his weapon and redirecting the momentum of the parry in a planned arc. He guided the staff away from his opponent, behind his back, and turning on the ball of his foot he diverted the weapon into Silas's foot--smashing his toes with the blunt end of the weapon.

 

His open hand met the lower end of his weapon, his body spinning down to crouch behind his staff in anticipation of retaliation. His form was flawless, practiced, in spite of a lack of known training. It was as if when he entered this world from the clone tube, he'd exited an alternate reality. He pulled back on the top end of his staff once more, taking advantage of the milliseconds of distraction he'd gained via the blow to the foot, then released it, using the flexibility of the weapon to power a quick swing at point blank. The heavy end of the staff that housed the vibromotor smacked Silas cleanly in the face, the bend in the staff making near impossible to block without raising the weapon to eye level.

 

Raitaro backed off as the concussive force of his vibrostaff knocked Silas to the ground. He raised weapon to the same ready position he had started the attack from, his gradually relaxing muscles preparing to counter the next wave of enraged attacks that were sure to come.

[Dagon]

OOC((Sorry for posting for everyone, but I need to get things back on schedule after having been bogged down by finals.))

 

I was the one who raised you, for purposes that cannot be discussed here. Enough time has been spent dallying here already, and it is time to make haste back to Silence.

 

::The three left the secret lab returning to the shuttle and the duel.::

 

It's time to go, my young apprentices, I will review the recording of your duel on the trip to Silence.

 

::The shuttle departs for Silence, leaving Korriban behind.::

[Raynuk Montar]

The space over Korriban was torn in two again as a large black dagger peirced through the stars from locations unknown. The newly aquired flagship for the Sith, commanded by the Dark Lord of the Sith himself, appeared into realspace with all the terror and mysticism that Star Destroyers had caused in the past. The large ship maneuvered into its position in a high orbit over Korriban. Deep within the ship, the Dark Lord himself, Darth Quietus was preparing to come face to face with the men and women that he would be ruling from this point forward, until his reign was stripped from him by whatever forces deemed it so.

 

It had been a long time since Quietus, or his former self, Montar, had served his brotherhood as the Dark Lord. This would be the third time that he had assumed dominance and control, something which weighed heavily on the mind of the Sith Master. The previous time had been a near mirror image of this one; Kakuto had been Dark Lord and quite simply dissapeared... Only last time it had seemed that he had planned for Montar to assume the mantle of Dark Lord. This time was different though, as Kakuto had again dissapeared, or as he had called it a few hours ago, 'retired'. But this time Quietus was not even alive. He had fallen many months ago, his own power and hunger consuming what was left of his soul and tearing apart his mortal shell.

 

But his soul was apparently not completely lost, only the part that gave him what few morals he had left in those last days of life. After his death, Quietus was left as a callous blood thirsty monster who refused to accept death without the possibility of cloning to be the final option. His soul fought back against the twisting nether of death, and in the proccess absorbed the wills and souls of all the other fallen Sith who rested on Korriban and quite simply willed himself back to life, exhuming his body from the ground with the help of some old friends.

 

It was slightly fitting then that Quietus had now chosen Korriban, the place where he retured to life, to solidify his return to power over the Sith. It was a fitting place. He only hoped that his Sith would show and listen to his words.

 

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

 

As the various Sith arrived above Korriban, they were immediately struck with the image of the Heretic floating in orbit and then escorted into one of it's docking bays by two fighters from the SD. They were then ushered into the largest of the meeting rooms where the meeting would take place.

Edited May 6, 2007 by Guest

[Oblivion]

There was no doubting the presence in the atmosphere. It was as ominous as it was inviting to the man, a sensation he had not felt clearly in ages. Having departed for days from the harsh environment of Kamino, the black plated A-wing modeled craft pierced through thin air, lowering speed as it approached the Heretic. A brief communication alerted the presence of the Sith Master to the small fleet, describing himself over the line as Darth Oblivion. Within minutes, there would be several craft looming to either side as he set automatically set the navigation systems to commence docking patterns with the immense SSD.

 

Once he had landed, his long pale fingers opened the single hatch, relying not on the stroke of a button but of his pure power and presence within the darkness to rend the metal from its holds. He had never cared much for flying, though insisted whenever the cause called for it, that he be directly incharge of the task, alone. Oblivion stepped down to the hard panneled floor, empty grey pools of eyes searching slowly left and right. Adorned in a long traditional cloak, collar frayed and of a dark ebony and crimson, he followed the lead of yet another pair of Imperial officers to where the meeting would take place.

 

As they strode down a single large corridor of rooms, it was obvious that he was being led to one the largest of the ones they were passing along the way. Despite having metallic lower limbs and suffering little fatigue as one with such flesh appendages would, the man despised the length of time it took before finally arriving in the meeting chambers. The officers were inclined to speak once having reached the destination, but promptly kept to themselves with one glance at the menacing fascade his presence exuded.

 

Remaining standing, though taking part by one of the side positions in the large round table, he merely folded his arms into the cloak, closing his eyes and feeling out that which he had been lured in by...

 

It is I, Oblivion; Keeper of the Krath, Advisor to the former Dark Lord. I come here to fulfill my allegiance to the Supreme Order of the Sith.

[Raynuk Montar]

And your allegiance is well received Oblivion...You are the first to answer my call, and for that your allegiance and devotion to our brotherhood is well known...

 

The response came from the depths of the ship. Just as he had done a number of times before, Quietus weaved his presence into every corner of the Heretic. The Krath as a whole would be an important part in the times ahead for the Sith.

[Darth Dominus]

Nurgle and Darth Oni arrived in a small shuttlecraft. The ship was escorted into the docking bay of Quietus' ship. Nurgle pulled his tattered robes around his body. He did not like Star Destroyers. They reminded him of the Empire. Nurgle and Darth Oni entered the meeting room and waited. Nurgle announced his arrival as Sith Master and Lord of Decay.

[Haphaestus]

Arriving from a route from Tatooine was the Sith Master and generally strange being called Haphaestus. He was powerful and capable, the victor of several battles against Jedi, and he was here at the behest of the new Dark Lord of the Sith, Quietus.

 

Personally, he didn't think Quietus would be anything near as effective and powerful as Kakuto Ryu, but it was possible. In fact, there is a 48% chance of him being so. The odds weren't that bad.

 

Haphaestus approached the gathering of Sith on this tomb world, but said nothing.

[Raynuk Montar]

Quietus watched patiently from his chambers within the Heretic as the various Sith responded to his call and now found themselves in one large meeting room. The Dark Lord watched and 'listened' through the force intently as each new Sith arrived. With the arrival of Nurgle and Oni, there was the slightest of ripple within the force as the two Sith, no doubt powerful in their own rights, set foot within the Star Destroyer. The mood and presence of these men betrayed a sense of calm on the outside, something that Quietus was quick to notice.

 

Interesting...

 

The next to arrive was such a being that Quietus found himself oddly interested and perplexed at the same time. He had heard of this being, and knew him to be a very powerful warrior and combatant. But the truth of his identity, and more specifically his existence was what truly intrigued the Dark Lord. As he joined the other Sith in the meeting room, Quietus again felt a slight ripple through the Force.

 

This second ripple was somewhat of a revelation to Quietus, it told him much, yet only left him with further questions about them, as well as the future and strength of his reign as Dark Lord. Quite simply, the Dark Lord could tell that there was only one man in that meeting room up to this point who was carrying optimism within their minds.

 

The other three, their intentions and thoughts would soon be known, whether they voiced them freely or not.

[Exodus]

The exchange of words withered as the vessel carved itself into the assiduous outer space and the manifestation of a most mesmeric visualization came to be. It was unlike most creations he had ever witnessed and was comparable to his own exceptional ship. As the two entered a reasonable distance, a communication link was established and the declaration of their identities were acknowledged and documented. Two escort crafts sputtered forth and marshaled Exodus and Yuri into a well-situated docking bay.

 

As the ship landed, the hatch blew open and Exodus hopped out with an unnatural enthusiasm; he was curious to see who this new man was and if he was even commendable for his efforts. Workforce and the candid personnel took a moment to examine his character before he was permitted movement. The bustle and noise of commotion in the background froze and all eyes fell onto him and his counterpart. At this time, the two were split and had to be scrutinized individually in fear of combined efforts which could lead to complete destruction. Exodus stood still, impassive and impatient altogether, his monochrome gauntlet tapping habitually at his side. Pools of a dangerous emerald gazed into the distance, eager to capture the moment and those that made it here prior to him

 

It would be foolish to refute the adrenaline that compelled him and so he accepted it and moved with sudden momentum; completely inconsiderate to the droids that had now addressed him with respect and admiration. His presence continued to spread throughout the enormous ship with voluptuousness unmatched, even as he attempted to obscure his arrival. He did not bother to turn back and ensure that Yuri could pass trouble free, he knew that his brother had his ways if anything came up; he appreciated that about him, he was independent until the death of him.

 

By now, the troupe steered up a dank and unfilled corridor of chambers, each marked with odd illustrations which he could in some sense or another, grasp. Exodus moved with a morose sophistication, his mantle of dark hair bellowed up and down as his strident boots pounded the metallic floors beneath only giving birth to a miserable rhythm. The echo clattered off of the walls and it almost appeared as if his black reflection started to come to life.

 

..Tip””Tap...

 

• ..Tip””Tap...

His final destination came to a close as his two escorts paused before a considerable door and shifted open slowly. There was few here, and even such were familiar faces. Exodus heaved a blasé breath into the air and took seat at the adorned table. He didn't bother to introduce himself, those that knew him, knew him well and were shrewd to be so enlightened.

[Zeke]

Before the hatch of the ship opened, the mysterious figure sitting next to his enigmatic brother raised his hood to keep others from gazing upon the features he had spent countless days working to perfect. He calmly exited the ship and took in the surroundings of the hanger they had arrived in.

 

After several long moments of inspection, he finally brushed aside workers and droids alike before they could accurately identify just who the man accompanying such a famed figure as Darth Exodus was. They marked him off as being an apprentice and he did not feel the urge to correct them as he glided across the floor towards the corridor leading to the meeting chamber.

 

His cloak trailed behind him as he walked. Emerald eyes glowed beneath the large hood, taking in the sights of the ship and committing them to memory. His history with the Sith wasn't the greatest and if need be he'd find a way out of here quickly. His intentions were not aggressive, at the moment, but none on board would have a chance of reading him save Exodus himself. He had developed his mental protections to such a point that they had only a handful of pseudo-rivals and only one real rival.

 

He stepped into the room, looking from one end to the other and recognizing most of those that had already arrived. With his own power cloaked to the point he felt like a mere acolyte in the force he took his seat near the back.

[Cineon Yahn]

The unmistakable presence of Darth Barabbas gradually got greater and greater as his ship Force Lightning approached the Heretic. He landed his ship in the hangar bay and promptly made his way to the chamber in which the Dark Lord had summoned a meeting. He had never met Quietus before, but he knew enough about him. The former emperor bowed his head slightly with disgust barely visible on his face. "Greetings my Lord."