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Korriban


Exodus

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The girls purple eyes locked with Raias and she shook her head. The red-black curls of the messy warrior braids momentarily covered her thin face.

 

“Not in my heart.” She placed her bandaged hand over her heart then tapped her head with the pointer finger or the other. “But my head tells me I should. So I've made up my mind that I will.” She grinned sheepishly and wished that she could pet one of the war beasts but knew that losing her hand on top of her other injuries would likely not bring her mother's approval or love. So she kept her hands to herself and looked back at Raia. She cocked her brow, “what healing charm do you plan?” she hadn't seen many when she had been in the village, so the magiks of healing we're all new to her.

 

Raia pursed her lips and glanced over her shoulder to where Raynuk, Qaela, and Delta stood with Sheog before turning back to face the child before her. “To be honest...I think what I have in mind goes beyond what the Nightsisters might know of healing the body. It’s not a spell, or a charm, per se. I just have a hard time seeing you here suffering for something that isn’t your fault, especially when I know I might be able to help.”

 

Part of her wondered at her own madness for sticking her own neck out this far to risk possibly making a repeat mistake of over-healing Raynuk. Not to mention the fact that Qaela had obviously tried every means at her disposal to heal her daughter. But Qaela was never a Witch...let alone a healer’s apprentice like you. Somewhere deep within her being she knew that she could do this.

 

“May I at least try? I was brought up in very different traditions than your mother, so perhaps I might help further what she’s started.” Raia pulled off the long gloves and laid them on the table before holding them out, palms up, to Telperien.

 

Telperien flicked a braid out of her eye and started to unravel the thickly laid bacta soaked bandages that covered her arms while looking back and forth from Raia to her wardogs. She winced as she pulled off the closest layers of blood soaked bacta bandages to her skin. Here and there below a mass of scabs the natural tan skin could be seen but also there was patches of black skin that sloughed off at the touch, showing atrophied muscles and tissue below. It probably smelled horrible to the the older girl but she had asked to help. Without hesitation she gripped the other girls hands in hers and giggled softly as the motion causes a large patch of skin to drip to the floor in a slagging mess.

 

“That notion of helping people is something I wouldn't speak to loudly around here Raia. It sounds Jedi like, and these people and slugs hate the jedi.” Her whisper was hoarse and she could hear the tremble of pain in it. Not something she would dare let her mother hear. But she couldn't help it.

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Keenava closed her eyes and waited. Anticipation picked at the edges of her lekku, but she remained patient in the face of oblivion. At least, that's what she thought. When the roughhewn skin of his strong arms hefted her from the coarse sandstone, she thought he was going to break her. Images of men and women who, for much less, abused her mind and body, whirred through the chaos of her mind. But, settled as she was across his shoulders, her lekku splayed about in no particular direction, she lay in bewilderment.

 

This man, the darkest of all, was taking the time to carry her. He was going out of his way - again - to prove that she was worthy of his time even when she'd proven otherwise. Noticing a rose, gnarled and covered in thorns, the shadow removed it from its bramble prison and lifted it into the sun.

 

The dying light of Korriban washed over her face as the struggles of her day caught up to her and she fell into a deep sleep...

 

_________________

 

  • The tempest of chaotic diversion and meaningless self-derision slowed to a crawl. The rose, that had suffered years of abuse at the hands of chaotic whim, lay restless and broken. Pieces of its stem were bent and disjointed. Its petals were shorn and the leaves that brought verdant green to the cloudy garden were cast aside. Without strength, the rose was gently set atop a cold slab and left without further thought. All will be well…

 

The shadow’s words echoed. They seemed empty at first. But warmth echoed through the faintest touches of its every gesture. Its intentions were mysterious, cryptic and vague. But, it showed not the slightest trace of carelessness.

 

  • Demons attacked the rose throughout its vigil. They attempted to pry the rose from its solitude and drag it back into the chaotic miasma that had been its entire life up to that point. But, no more. The rose, even in its weakness, stood impassively to their desires. Divisiveness was their purpose, twisted was their direction, and taunting was their method. They came and assaulted the rose’s weary mind, but found no purchase.

 

The Rose had enough chaos. Chaos would breed more chaos, and such was the tool of meaningless destruction. The rose sought to stand once more. It sought a graceful solution to the antithetical force that fought to take root.

 

  • No more…

_________________

 

Keenava awoke with a start. But, instead of wrenching her body to attention, she stifled a gasp and slowly turned her eyes side to side. Shadowy hands wrestled with her brain, demanding movement, but she stifled the inclination. Quick moves and impulsive actions led to dangerous outcomes. She had an uncomfortable familiarity with that. Careful breaths, easy moves, deliberate motion… Deep breaths.

The room was dark. A cold slab of steel iced the bare skin of her back, sending gooseflesh all up and down the surface of her ebony skin. Tingling sensations played like ants all along her body. The only part of her body that didn’t recognize any of that, was her left foot. Yet, as she thought of it, a sleek looking black thing moved in response. Like a distant whisper, the signals sent from her brain echoed in her head and channeled into movement. It felt odd. The aberration that hung from her leg wasn’t what she expected. In truth, she didn’t expect to wake at all. It seemed the force was not finished with her and Exodus had not completely forsaken his nightshade. Maybe this leg would serve him or her in the future. For now, it simply reminded her of how far she’d fallen. Her body was falling to its monstrous influence one piece at a time. It was inevitable.

 

Silence ruled for a few more minutes as she studied her leg. Empty words and empty phrases were all she could muster in response. She shook her head and let it plop back down the durasteel. Why didn’t you just kill me Exodus? Why do you care?

 

He cares because you are a tool. You are of use to him. Keenava intoned to herself, determined to break the silence if nothing else was going to answer her curious whims.

But why?

 

Find out… Be the weapon you’re supposed to be. Fulfill your potential and obey the will of the Empire. Then maybe you’ll see why.

 

Nodding internally, Keenava explored the medical facility with her mind, attempting to derive how the medical professionals did what they did and trying to see what her leg was all about. However, the medical staff was all gone. There were no living organic presences in the room. Whoever had finished her operation was nowhere to be found.

 

  • Interesting…

 

Seeing no other alternative, Keenava slowly pushed herself to the edge of the slab and gently put both legs on the floor. She tested her replacement leg with careful grace and found that it was very receptive to her influence. It bounced a little with liquid motion and mirrored the actions of a normal left foot. She looked down at it, curiousness grabbing at her idle thoughts. And, drab black metal, imitating the shape of a normal Twi’lek foot, looked back up at her with stoic indifference. It was nice looking and very well crafted, but Keenava had no idea what came with it if anything. It was a mystery. But, right now, the bigger mystery was where the medical staff had gone.

 

Keenava hopped off the side of the durasteel slab, putting more weight on her feet and almost toppled over. It seemed that the new foot, although made of metal, had no real weight to it. Keenava expected it to be three times or four times as heavy as her normal foot and was prepared to compensate for it, but her estimation was grossly inaccurate and the mistake almost brought her crashing to the ground. Fortunately, she splayed her arms out at the last moment and caught a nearby desk on her way down. It was a close call and Keenava was thankful, but the weight differential was a problem. Taking a deep breath, Keenava adjusted her estimate and pushed herself to her feet. She stood at her full height and lifted one foot at a time with slow repetition, testing them both for a good long minute. Then, when she thought she was ready to start moving forward again, she began moving slowly around the room, looking for clues as to the operation, putting her hands out and visually, physically and metaphysically inspecting everything she could.

 

A few small prototypes lay across workbenches. Metal parts, metal joints, tiny pieces, and fabrications were laid out with precision and ease, but nothing seemed to offer much in the way of explanation. As she paced around the room, however, a queer dimple on the wall stood out to her. It was barely noticeable at first, but as she neared, she started to see more of what it was. On the wall, not too far from where she stood, a crude engraving was etched into the stone. It was in a language that Keenava didn’t recognize, but beneath the engraving was a small readout. On it, she was able to determine pieces and parts of how her leg was put together. Still no luck on finding out why or where the medical staff had gone, but priorities changed and that issue would be revisited in a moment.

 

  • Metal prosthesis
    - Phrik inner frame
    - Sensor baffled compartment
    - Nanite generators and repair/weapon system (basic installation and simplistic programming)
    ** Toe tap twice, heel tap twice.
    - Micro-hydraulic musculature
    - Fused alchemical crystals – Energy storage and illusion:: keyword - Ilūzija
    - Backup power source – Battery cell 44ENPS

 

Keenava stood for a few moments looking at the sheet, scanning every word. Idly, she started to tap her foot, which was a physical tick she had when she was doing something like reading or focusing on someone else as they talked. It wasn’t meant as a derisive jab – though some part of her wanted it to be - it was simply how her foot worked. But, after three seconds of toe-tapping, Keenava felt her toe change shape. No, that wasn’t right.

 

Keenava moved the readout for a moment to look at her toe and noticed that the front of her foot formed a small one-inch blade. Her nose twitched at the revelation, but the rest of her face remained unchanged. She returned to the readout and re-read the ‘weapon system’ line and tapped her toe twice again, watching as the blade receded. That’s cool…

 

“Sensor baffled compartment. What’s that?” Keenava asked the darkness, setting aside the readout again and reaching down to her metal leg. She knelt on the ground and stabilized herself before brushing across the prosthetic’s exquisite exterior with her fingers. The smooth cold metal met her fingers with eagerness. The structure was very complicated. It was articulated with the skill of a master, and simultaneously, crafted with the eye of an artist. She got a little distracted by the craftsmanship and admired the piece, spending extra time running her fingers over the joints to appreciate the work. But she couldn’t find the compartment that the sheet talked about. It had to be here somewhere. Why would they list it?

 

Keenava moved her hands over the foot once more and found an odd growth on one side. The metal was so well forged and smoothed that Keenava didn’t notice it the first time. But, with her second inspection, Keenava spent more time inching her way along the leg and noticed the irregularity bulging out on the leg’s left side. She pushed it at it, hoping it was a button, and sure enough, a small hatch opened on the right side of the leg. It was a decent sized cavity, and currently, her lightsaber hilt was inside of it. That is also cool…

 

Keenava left her hilt inside and resealed the hatch as best she could before resuming her previous stance and reading the only clue she had one more time. Nothing… Why is everyone gone?

 

Keenava tore the piece of paper off the pad took the readout with her. She turned to leave the room and something wafted right over the surface of her nose. The smell of copper eased into her nostrils and thoughts started to swim to her mind. Vague recollections of the past began to worm their way back. And with them, screams of agony filled her ears, echoing in her brain. It had been here. It had killed them.

 

Ghost temptation led her feet to a side table where the specter’s old hilt stood. Keenava tried to activate it on her way to meet Exodus, but it would not work for her. However, here in the dark, it glowed with power. Keenava could hear the souls of the dead wallowing inside the crude metal relic and felt tempted to destroy the terrible metal device. But that was wasteful.

The spirit that still dwelt within the relic desperately drew her hand to the hilt, begging to drain power from her body as well. It was a hollow attempt; something that drew Keenava to laugh because she remembered how its last attempt ended. Its desperation amused her and instead of ignoring its plea, Keenava planned something of her own. She accepted the spirit’s offer. But, when she contacted the metal, she rivaled its aura with her own. The draining insatiability that Keenava mastered on Umbara, met the desperate Specter and absorbed all the power it had attained, eradicating its vulnerable form completely. Then, when its influence was void from the ancient rusty piece of metal, the metal corroded even more and cracked apart. It had seen its purpose and would now lay as a broken piece of garbage on the side table.

 

The mist started to settle. Keenava stepped away from the room and down a silent stone hall. She found her armaments waiting for her outside, fresh and renewed, and continued forward once she was finished suiting up. A few battery packs and slicer’s tools were added to the pouches of her armor. And her knives were polished with pride. She wished to thank the one that did this, but appreciation and respect would have to suffice.

 

She activated her comm and messaged Exodus; short and sweet.

Nightshade. Ready to kill, Master…

 

 

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The overlarge master of the Krath watched the proceedings before him with interest. The Dathomiri desired a clan, and his two best friends were in the process of comparing mating scores. He gave a slobbery sigh and stretched his flabby hide, letting the embrace of hunger and greed guide his mind. The voices that cursed his fractured mind like scabies bedeviled the homeless grew into an echoing cacophony, a tornado of broken and scattered thoughts. He contained the storm within his internal wasteland, allowing his demented voice to speak into it. It was as duelistic as the two sides of his Sin.

 

The lack of influence of the Krath faction upon the galaxy had often bothered him, and his mind set itself to funnel the darkening clouds within towards the realms of realism, beyond the simple debates and petty squabbles of the Sith. His desire for sustenance was beginning to grow unbearable.

 

 

The pale Hutt smiled at the remaining man, watching as the cowardly one claimed his reward and left in a hustle. He picked up the man’s discarded glass with a pinch of his greasy fingers and placed it into the washbin, while moving his soaked rag upon the bartop, eating away at years of accumulated grime. He spread out a small hologram from within his palm, letting it slide across the bartop towards Stephen.

 

“Only the fool takes the easiest prize…”

 

The hologram opened to reveal a VCX-100 light freightor, with black and gold trim.

 

The Aberrant Folly. The crew was found slaughtered. Don’t worry we checked, whatever it was escaped already.”

 

The Hutt laughed uproariously, as if that news was meant as a comfort.

 

“To Coruscant or Cardia?

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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Delta’s reaction to the accusations and questions that Raynuk leveled at the vigo was enough for the Sith to know that Delta had absolutely nothing to do with Emily’s attack. Raynuk said nothing as Delta handed him the datapad listing the recent activities of the Black Sun, his gaze dropping to the device as he scanned it himself, quickly verifying what the vigo claimed.

 

But once again, as Delta mentioned the holonet, Raynuk’s gaze shifted back up. He had not viewed the latest news reports from the holonet since the Ravenhammer landed on Korriban, but once again he said nothing, turning back to the datapad and using it to pull up the report Delta had mentioned. By the time the vigo clapped him on the shoulder and the two began to walk as the vigo whispered, Raynuk had finished reading the report, and handed the datapad back to Delta, a wry smile crossing his face, his own response an equal whisper.

 

“Hey, if you can’t keep up and close the deal with the beauties of our galaxy, that’s not my fault…. Might be hers though.” He pointed a hidden finger back towards Qaela behind them as the Dathomari spoke to the Hutt.

 

Once the pair had walked sufficiently far enough away from the others, Raynuk turned to face the vigo, his tone turning back to cold business.

 

“You have met my accusations and questions Delta; I take your word that Black Sun was not involved. Though it is clear that someone wished for it to seem so. Does anyone else know of your plans here, to rally the Black Sun under the banner of the Sith? Anyone who could be against such an alliance that could possibly pull off a job like this and frame the Black Sun in order to undermine our work?”

 

Raynuk was fairly sure the thought and questions had crossed Delta’s mind as well, but felt compelled to speak them himself just in case.

 

“You know the monsters I chase; between their threat and the ill will between Emily and I, I do not plan on searching for her.She made her intentions clear by neglecting to inform me of the child; she does not want me in it’s life, or hers. And if this is a plot by the cult to force me off their trail, then that is all the more reason for me to remain on it and not allow myself to be distracted. I will not risk the end of our galaxy for her. It is time that she remembers the strength that comes from being a Sith and how to get herself out of such situations. And if she can’t do that, then I suppose Alora and Draken will have to bail her out.”

 

He turned to look back at the others; Sheog, Qaela, Raia and Telperien, pausing for a moment to watch the two young girls who were talking. Even though neither could hear what the girls were saying, Raynuk could see that Raia legitimately cared about helping Teperien. Even among the Sith she was capable of being selfless, and with every moment that passed with Raia being exposed to the Sith as a collective whole, he grew more and more confident that if Raia did not fit in among the Sith as they were, she would dig and carve her own position into the Order. And he intended to support her in that effort. Finally he continued, changing the subject.

 

“Guess I’m not the only one who adopted a daughter though. Good to know I have someone to compare notes with on this whole “adopted father” thing. How is she? I heard what happened on Dathomir with her and her brothers… And I didn’t fail to notice the bandages she still wears.”

 

It was probably the last kind of thing most would expect from a Sith; giving a damn about someone else. But to Raynuk, this was a matter of friendship born of alliances. Delta had stood beside, or supported, Raynuk enough times that the Sith trusted him. And now, to a point, he considered Delta’s problems not so far removed from his own. He would repay the support whenever the need arose. And if he was being honest, Raynuk knew that Raia, and even Jaina and Tirzah, had rubbed off on him slightly, raising his overall ‘give a damn’ allowance.

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I ate a hippo. It was delicious.

May the Forth therve you well...

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"I've had my own run-ins with the Jedi," Raia admitted as she met the girl's gaze. "Most of them are meddlers, forcing their will on others and not considering the consequences. There are two that aren't so bad though..." She shook her head, not wanting to distract herself from what her instincts compelled her to do.

 

"I asked your permission to do this because no one should be made to do things against their will...and I don't really care if that sounds Sith-like or not right now. Besides, the general tone of this meeting has been that we should be working together instead of against each other as Sith unless my Basic is worse than I thought. Now sit still," the elder girl took a deep breath and opened her focus to the younger Dathomiri. "I'm hoping this won't hurt much."

 

Raia spared a glance toward Qaela and to Raynuk and Delta before closing her eyes again. The darkness she felt present in the girl clung to Telperien almost like the film that developed on a pond of stagnant water - thin, slimy, and hard to completely wash away. For being in such pain, she admired how strong the younger girl was to show nearly none of it to the outside world.

 

At her throat, the tree-like crystal began to glow as the crimson color deepened as Raia followed her instincts, guided by what she'd learned of the body at her mother's knee. She shoved the thoughts and emotions regarding her mother aside as she listened to what Telperien's body was telling her through the Force as she called to, and drew out the curse that was blocking the girl's body from healing.

 

Raia had never seen this kind of curse before, but she could sense it was the source of why Telperien hadn't been healing properly and why her wounds were still festering and putrid. The only way Raia had been able to entice the curse from the girl was by offering herself as the replacement host to get the flow of energy started, but she felt something else take over even as the tattoo burned across her skin, still hidden beneath her outer tunic. A small grunt of pain escaped her lips as she fought for control as she tried to channel the curse into the glowing crystal at her neck.

 

The Nightsisters must have really hated Qaela and her daughter because the entity didn't go down without a great deal of effort on Raia's part to forcibly drag the energies bit by bit to the Dathomiri-forged crystal at her neck where she hoped they'd remain through whatever energies Raynuk had given to the crystal. The curse was strong. Raia hoped his Warrior King strength would be enough to lock in the dark energy, as Roe'gall whined impatiently, unsure of what to do.

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As the Black Sun fleet started to arrive piecemeal in the upper atmosphere, Delta could feel his heartbeat begin to slow down. There was not to be conflict here today between him and his old friend. However the revelation that Raia was actually Rayncuk’s daughter, did give his stomach a slight flutter. That one kiss would be as far as he dared for some time to come. No need to get a lightsaber colonoscopy just yet. “This cult will need to be dealt with in time Lord Montar, even if you are willing to sacrifice the mother of your child and your biological child to save the galaxy, i would deem that a mistake. Some children are worth the price of the galaxy.” He nodded to where their daughters were huddled. The force knew he would burn the entire galaxy himself included if it was to save her from harm. He laughed at the thought and looked back to his old friend.

 

“I am afraid she is not all that well, the Nightsisters used their deepest magic to harm the children…” He shook his head, “And it lingers even still. I am afraid for her Raynuk. I put nearly the entire continent to the sword in revenge, and killed a thousand bothans, but it has not brought her fully to health. I am afriad it is up to the force now.” He rubbed his chin, scratching at the stubble that persistently grew there. He didn’t mention the boys. The memory was too hot in his mind. The very image of them dying in his arms made his breath shake, and his hand itch for its blaster pistol. “What is our next move? Strike the Galactic Alliance? The Remnant and their queen? Or perhaps this Cult of yours?”

 

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Ca'Aran

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Stephen stroked his beard in thought. When he looked up at Nugget with a determined gaze, he finally said, “To Cardia first—might as well take on the easier target before tackling the harder. I appreciate the ship, but I’m sure you’ll understand if I change the name.” He chuckled, downed the last of his drink, nodded to the Hutt, and walked off to find his droid.

 

* * * * *

 

He found Mate in standby mode in the hanger in which the Fortune and Glory was berthed. As he had expected, it was gone. Lugner did not even stay to say goodbye. Guess he couldn’t blame him. Nugget was true to his word. In the space that once housed the luxury yacht, a slightly-abused, black and gold-trimmed VCX-100 light freighter stood being refueled. Stephen walked up and touched what appeared to be a claw mark on the exterior of the ship near the entrance ramp.

 

“So you’re The Aberrant Folly, eh?” he said to the ship. “I’m gonna have to come up with a new name for you.” He walked around inspecting the ship from all angles. The way the light seemed to warp around the black surface… the way the gold accents sparkled… “I will call you… The Tokonga.”

 

He called to the droid, “Mate, plug in, and change the transponder to The Tokonga.” The droid beeped an affirmative, and began rolling toward the ship. “Oh, and check for any tracking devices or programs.” The droid beeped again, then turned away a second time. “Nevermind—just purge the entire system. I want a clean ship.” The droids beep seemed annoyed this time, and Stephen thought he heard the droid warbling to itself on the way to the ship. This caused the human to chuckle and shake his head at the moody little droid.

 

* * * * *

 

In orbit around Korriban, and seated at the helm, Stephen once again pulled up an informative holo on Carida. A jungle planet mainly occupied by the Imperial Remnant. Hmm, he thought to himself, This Sith Acolyte named Mandar must be training at Königreich des Teufels. I guess I’ll start there.

 

“Are you locked in back there, Mate?” Stephen asked the droid.

 

The M8-F7 droid replied with an excited-sounding whistle.

 

“Five million credits, here we come!” Stephen said as he pulled lever, and the ship shot into Hyperspace toward Carida.

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“Feel free to go ahead with it Raia, I trust you.” She smiled. The older dathomir was very good at what she did, and Telperien looked up to her.

Telperien’s eyes grew wide as the other girl began to work her magic. She could feel a spirit tugging at every inch of her body,pain rippling up and down her arms as the girl began to draw the curse towards herself.

 

Sin Eater

 

Her eyes rolled back in her head and she blinked back a rush of liquid tears. Looking down, she as not longer in the korriban throne room, but instead in the Dathomiri wastes, where she had hiked and walked many times. However instead of the lush green forests there was fire burning all round her and her brothers were holding tight onto her hands. The ground they were standing on was darch with charcoal and embers. No longer the rich dark loam that brought crops up so easily. The twins were always a bit smaller and weaker than her, but now their hands gripped hers with surprising strength.

 

Their crystal blue eyes looked at her on lolling heads sat upon shrunken shoulders. Their skin and clothes burned away over most of their small bodies. The only thing that showed that they still held life were their eyes. Those eyes she had dried dozens of times when they cried for their mother. Fright began to creep up her spine as fire flicked out of their mouths as they spoke. She knew it was a dream, but it felt so real. She could feel the sharp bite of their fingernails driving into her palms.

 

“Why won't you stay with us Tel?” They hissed. Their voices sounding distorted.

 

She tried to draw away but they held her in place.

“You’ve got to stay Tel, Mum will be back to pick us up dontcha know.”

 

She tried to speak back but her voice caught in her throat as she struggled against the hot air and the pressure on her chest. She pulled one arm away, scratching a long furrow up her arm from her brother’s nails. Lightning quick he recaught her arm. Redoubling the pain in her arms.

“You’ve got to.”

 

Fire flicked at her face from their mouths and suddenly she was very scared. She shook her head and suddenly they screamed and the pain in her arms lessened slightly.

 

Sin Eater

 

“Don’t let us go Tel.”

 

…Ive Ive got to

 

She shook her head again, and the weight dropped off her chest, only for a second, until it redoubled.

 

“We won't let you go Tel.”

 

A blackened hand curled around her throat and tightened, cutting off her breath.

 

Please. Dad...Anyone...Dad please.

 

A flash of light and power unlike anything she had ever felt within the force spilled out around her. A distantly familiar feeling. And a man stood there, wearing a smirk that she herself had made a thousand times.

The Father.

 

His eyes locked with hers, red fiery eyes that pulsed with power, against her raven purple eyes. She breathed out and suddenly she was on korriban. Holding hands with Raia and feeling relieved and exhausted. Her purple eyes glowed orange-red when she opened them. Her skin began to grow and restitch and the crystal around Raia’s neck grew dark and dripped with an oily darkness, the feeling of the darkside filled the room. And along with it a presence of Lord Ar-Pharazon. A man that once had walked the halls of Korriban in the noontide of his glory, keeping the galaxy confined in his wicked designs, raping and pillaging where he could. When Telperien spoke her voice reverberated with his voice.

 

My designs are not yet fulfilled The galaxy will yet bow to us

 

Telperien looked at Raia and cocked her her to the side. Her voice a whisper

 

Do you know with what power you so foolishly play?

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Dahar left the room with his new acquaintance and began to traverse the halls of the temple. His Jedi robes normally would have drawn attention, although his growing Dark Side presence combined with Sheog's protection allowed him to move about freely. He reflected on everything he had seen. Originally the disgruntled Grandmaster had come here under the promise of fun. That was the word Sheog had used. Yes, the feast was fun. It was also fun for Dahar to learn of his fondness of fine teeth. He glanced down at the young female padawan walking with him. She certainly had... pretty teeth. He wondered if perhaps a girl of twelve was too young to have these thoughts about. Irrelevant, he was having fun here. But it seemed to him that Sheog was the only one out of the Sith who knew how to have a good time.

 

The other Sith reminded him all too well of his former Jedi companions. They all took themselves very seriously. They demanded respect, and bowing, and silence. It reminded him of the royal families back on Adumar. It was something he had left behind because he didn't want a part of it back then, and it was the same reason he had left the Jedi. Dogma. The Jedi Order, the Sith Order. Order, order, ORDER. It seemed that none of these Force wielding sects appreciated that the galaxy was nothing but chaos. Even death was an illusion, only claiming those who didn't know how to hold on to life after their bodies had perished. But Dahar knew how. And now, in the realm of those mad scientists that he had heard of who worked for the Sith, he would be even better equipped for immortality.

 

His first pressing order of business was what to do with the girl. Sheog had instructed him to use her and he didn't want to disappoint his host. The girl had memories of him as a Jedi, as a respected Master of her Order, and he was going to use those memories to achieve his goals. The two walked the halls and conversed.

 

"You know who I am, don't you child?"

 

"Yes..." the girl spoke, still choking back the terror in her voice, "I know who you are."

 

"Do you know why I am here?"

 

The thought had certainly crossed her mind as this was no place for a Jedi Master to be. "No."

 

Dahar let out a fake sigh, as if she had failed some sort of test. With the disappointment of a Jedi teacher in his tone he asked, "What is your name, padawan?"

 

"Allison," she managed to choke out, "Allison Gold."

 

"Allison, I am here to complete a mission. One of the young Jedi you have been imprisoned with has managed to escape, to return to the council, and to inform us of your captivity." In truth there had been no escaped Jedi, in fact, Dahar wasn't completely sure there were other padawans here. But it seemed unlikely that the Lord of Gluttony would bother to steal only one Jedi padawan. "I've uncovered information disguised as a guest of the Sith. Each of you has a tracking device implanted in your spine that will explode if you try and escape. We need to remove those first before we do anything else. Go back to your friends and tell them that I am here and to be ready soon."

 

It was a bit of a stretch to believe even for a child. Dahar didn't even bother to explain the plothole of the escapee not exploding. But the effort it took for an experienced Master of the Force to influence the mind of a young padawan was minimal. She believed him, and scurried off, not even questioning why she was being allowed to return un-escorted to her holding area.

 

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

 

Dahar continued on alone. Lies and deceptions had never been tools of the Jedi, but they were very easy to use and yielded impressive results. Such was the way of the Dark Side; quick, powerful. With a bit more walking he arrived at the science wing. After consulting with a droid at the desk an old man came shuffling out. His age seemed unnatural. He was a human well over one-hundred but still carried himself with determination. His eyes carried the taint of a Sith Master who had been relying purely on the Dark Side for a lifetime.

 

"My name is Lord England Ishmeicitty. I am the director of this laboratory. Lord Sheog informed me that you would be coming. How can I help you, Master Jedi?" he said the word "Jedi" with the respect that he would offer an equal but the disdain he held for his most hated enemy.

 

The word wounded Dahar the same way. "That title means nothing to me anymore. Please, just call me..." Dahar thought for a moment. You know what they say about first impressions, "...Atlas." It rolled smoothly off his tongue. He liked it. A small but noticeable shift took place deep in his being. He had left behind his old identify marking the first step in a true transformation. The Force approved. He felt the Dark Side stronger than ever before. It was opening up to him, allowing him entry to a world of power that he had only glimpsed before. The energy swirled around him and passed through every breath. It took root in his hatred. His loathing for his former brothers was so strong that he had now denied his old self. The Dark Side gave its blessing.

 

"I am in need of your expertise, Lord Ishmeicitty. I am planning an extremely dangerous mission with a large chance that this body I carry may not return. I don't plan on waking up in one of the many Jedi cloning facilities that hold vessels for me, I would like to wake up here. But..." Atlas's imagination started to light up. He knew of the many horrors Sith scientists were able to fashion. "Well, I'd like to leave the details up to you. This is your field of expertise, your artwork, and I'd like my new body to be your canvas. Keep it similar, if you can. I'd like to look myself. But see if you can make it a bit more resilient. You know, imbue it with the Dark Side and stuff like that."

 

Lord Ishmeicitty cracked a wicked smile. He loved an unrestricted opportunity to do something unholy and unnatural. "Master... Atlas. I do have to warn you that this process will alter your midichlorians in a way that calling on the Light Side, as I can sense you still do from time to time, will become much more difficult. There has to be some balance and if you want a body forged in the flames of Darkness you can't expect to be a friend of the Light."

 

Atlas nodded, "That will be fine, my friend. I believe we are on the same page."

 

Ishmeicitty took a sample from Atlas and gave it to the droid to bring into the lab. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

 

With a simple blink Atlas's eyes made a Skywalkerian change from brown to a deep sickly yellow. It was the first physical manifestation of the Dark Side taking hold of the former Jedi Master.

 

"Yes... do you have any experience with children?"

Jedi Masters never die, they just fade away...

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In mild amusement, Exodus twisted the metal band that now sheathed his finger, round and round as he listened to the small crowd maunder about. Their choice of conversation was desperately short of expectation, the nuances of children and romanticisms were paradoxical at best, and were of no real value. The Dark Lord eased his back into the comfort of the Krath-beaten Steel Throne, with the tailored Tuk’ata leather exquisitely heeled into the seat. He passed unnoticed, as he looked down and watched them all cross words. All of their names and their attributes, all of it passed through the sieve of his mind, being weighed and judged thoroughly.

 

 

  • "Lord Exodus, the gathered intel you requested." An individual Sith Stalker fitted in a rather distinguishing harness, bestowed with a chilling voice, bowed and presented the Dark Lord with a particular datapad.

 

Exodus eyed the Stalker once over, and nodded to acknowledge his service. Immediately, the Sith acquisition bowed and mumbled a word in Sith dialect, the word could not be made out by even the most unnatural of auditory senses. Exodus smiled, and sharpened his attention to the information that now scrolled across the small of the screen. The acquired communications was dissected with paranormal haste, giving light to situations across the galaxy, especially ones that conflicted with even the tiniest pieces of his puzzle. Drawn to curiosity, Exodus accessed a textual medium to reach AVATAR Kain, secured and encrypted by nature. "Black Sun has arrived, mostly. The element of the Outlaw is now a substantiated extension of the Sith. You will handle the technical correspondence, as well as the proceedings to ensure the harmonization between the two parties runs without error. There is a reward for you in that. I will speak with this Delta-73 first. What is your report on Nar Shadda?" Exodus closed the medium, and sifted through his natural hair while in deep thought to the topic of the Krath presented in hindsight. He had an answer, but it would wait, perhaps Draken would make an appearance before late. The personal comm-link in his ear broadcasted the voice of his apprentice, and Exodus made note of the emptiness to her words. "If you are indeed ready to be a student. There is a particular someone you must find for me. I will forward you the details." As Exodus ran through the processes on the datapad, and sent his apprentice the details of his task, a rising energy within the Halls caught his attention..

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For a moment Raynuk was slightly disheartened that Delta offered no insight into a possible culprit who would and could have pulled it off to sink the alliance of Black Sun and the Sith. But the way Delta's tone turned when talking about Telperien told Raynuk a great deal more about the Vigo than his words did, and he understood that Delta's mind was not yet in a place to think about conspiracy theories. And he knew that further words would likely not do the situation justice, and so Raynuk simply clapped his friend on the shoulder once more.

 

"Won't be the last time you terrorize two planets in the name of your personal vendettas. Though if I may make a suggestion; next time... maybe less of a show? Not that the news reports haven't been entertaining, but we have a fair bit working against us already."

 

He was going to answer Delta's question about what to do next, but a slight flicker through the Force made him glance towards Raia and Telperien, his own senses reaching towards them as well. He knew instantly that Raia was risking reaching out to the Force again, an act that in previous attempts had send Raynuk and the others scrambling to attempt to prevent her from being swept away in it. But his instinctual reaction was halted instantly; by Delta's words of all things.

I am afraid it is up to the Force now...

 

That sentiment was enough for Raynuk to pull back on the reigns, and to actually feel for the wills of the Force. And he felt Raia's presence there, standing on the metaphorical bank of the river of the Force, a position of control as opposed to falling into the river wholesale. It was the crystal at her neck that he felt to be grounding her, a focal point that she could latch onto, much as she had often attempted to cling to his presence in previous attempts. For a moment he watched, and felt through the Force, as Raia turned her skills that she had learned from her mother as a healer, and the unfortunately limited training he, Draken, Alora and Emily had managed to impart on her, and began to pull the corruption from the very essence of Telperien, and drew it into the crystal that she wore.

 

But as the corruption abated from Telperien, Raynuk realized to a slight amount of horror what had been likewise drawn out from the young girl's very soul. He felt the presence that swept in on it's wake, and by the time Telperien's eyes revealed to be orange-red, Raynuk was already moving.

 

"Next we keep your daughter alive." He said hastily to Delta as he took long strides to close the gap.

 

 

The sudden emergence of such dark maleficence and malice that suddenly surged through the Force connection and into Raia caused her to cry out in shock as she tumbled over her chair in an effort to get away from it and to Raynuk as quickly as possible. Her hand clutched at the crystal and at her chest as she felt her tattoo burn further along her skin as it seemed to feed on the dark energies that she now fought against in earnest. Raynuk met her halfway, her hand finding the solid purchase on his arm as he arrived, his face a stone's mask staring back at not Telperien, but the dark presence he knew all too well. It was the man who had orchestrated the rag-tag group that had first brought Delta and Raynuk together as allies and resulted in not only the destruction of Cloud City, but who forced Raynuk to watch as the others cut Emily down in front of him in order to prove a point. And then lead to the eventual return of Darth Quietus as the Dark Lord of the Sith. It was Telperien's terrible legacy. It was Lord Ar-Pharazon.

 

As Raynuk got to her, eyes that were once storm-grey now were a pitch black and wide with fear as they moved rapidly back and forth within the socket. Raynuk could feel the fear within his daughter, but also knew that she had not fallen victim to the Force as before. It was Raynuk who answered the twin-voices of the Ar-Pharazon.

 

"She plays with the power that the Force bestows upon her, power that I know all too well... brother. Or have you fallen so low into your madness that you forget there are others who can claim the power you always coveted? Not all the pillars of our order have fallen as you have." Raynuk countered, equaling the look that the Ar-Pharazon continued to bore into Raia.

 

"Your madness cost you everything, and now what, you intend to use your blood as a puppet? Too insecure, too weak, and too self-absorbed to allow anyone else but you to wield power? You are nothing but a phantom of the blood that pumps through Telperien. You have given her nothing but a name to be cursed at. We have given her life that was stolen from her in your name. We have given her belonging that was stolen from her in your name. We have given her guidance that was stolen from her, and the Force, all that was stolen from her in your name. Your own daughter, made to suffer, made to languish without the Force, cursed to die, all because you existed... You are not worthy of being associated with her anymore." His voice had grown almost to a growl at this point; growls that were echoed as Roe'gall and Vex'aedr both stepped forward, passing Raia and presenting their own unshaken will at Raynuk's heels to the Ar-Pharazon.

 

He stepped closer, and bent over to be at eye level with Telperien, his eyes reflecting the fiery intensity that the girl's held, as the tuk'atas followed. There would be no negotiation, no bargaining, no accordance given to this malifacent presence that had fallen to the wayside. Not when it was a threat to Raia.

 

"Be. Gone."

 

And with those words, his mind lashed out, exploding his presence outward to fill the room, a direct counter that smashed against the dark, heavy blanket that was the presence of Lord Ar-Pharazon, pushing it back to the depths of whatever hell the Sith Master had been locked away in. He felt the radiating presences of the Dark Lord and the Master Krath, each beating their own pulses against the uninvited will of Ar-Pharazon.

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I ate a hippo. It was delicious.

May the Forth therve you well...

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The overlarge eyes of the insane Hutt opened, their multiple lids sliding back one at a time to reveal the crimson glow of the Krath’s piqued interest. He had felt the presence of true darkness rise, and his avarice rose to great it. The Golden God’s spiritual presence soared in the room, as a bird unlocked from its cage, its power embracing the heavens. The Lord of the Krath was familiar with Lord Ar-Pharazon, his vile actions had corrupted his friends before, and had sewn unrest within the ranks of the Sith during the Hutt’s rise to power.

 

Although he bore the man no ill will, and quite a bit of pity for being locked in the Hellvault, he was ever hungry for the power the man had possessed. His eyes found the girl, the Golden’s own daughter as the source of the corruption, and Quietus rising to meet the threat. With a Dragon’s greed, the mighty Hutt reached out into the Force to devour and consume. To the Lord of the Krath, the spirit of one so long gone was like a girl lost in the woods, and he had come as a wolf to devour. He had little words for the man

 

<>

 

His hunger was a gravitational field, pulling upon the fabric of the Force. The ravenousness and voracity began to draw on everything with an avidity to consume. Beside the massive Hutt, his servant Twi’lek, the yellow skinned and lithe serving girl dropped to her knees, her boney fingers grasping at her throat. She dug her fingernails into her skin with a wild desperation, clawing as if to remove an invisible blockage. She straightened her spine and reeled backwards, falling into a husk of lifeless flesh, her spirit and life guzzled up like a Gamorrean with a growler of Sevasti ale.

 

The Hutt’s desire expanded within the veil of the Force, drawing upon the spirit’s overwhelming signature as a black hole consumes a star that sits upon the edge of its event horizon. Within the physical realm, an apparition of a serpent appeared to wind itself about the Hutt in a loving embrace, matched in its doting by the buzzing of a thousand flies. The voices of the flies joined in the hissing of the serpent in a chorus of unnatural voices

 

<>

 

The power began to draw further upon the spirit, adding to the strength of Quietus and Exodus

 

<>

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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  • The Harvest

 

The fertilization of our deepest horrors, that is what the children of the Sith carried as a burden on their brittle shoulders. Whet with the depraved ambitions of those that have come before them, riddled with their curses and their enemies, there was no escape from the seeds of hate that we buried for them to bear witness to. Exodus could smell the sour savor of Ar-Pharazon on the wind of the temple, peddling from the skin of his own flesh and blood. There was a time that even one such as he, with his berserker will, had joined behind the name that Dark Lord Exodus had carried. There was an unruliness about him that set him apart from the others, but that distinction fooled a great many into the belief that he was the one of the best that the Sith had to offer. The Spider was of a different mind, and feared neither living nor dead.

 

 

"..Mes derrinos tu."

 

 

The language spilled from his mind before a wash of tremendous tension sundered the atmosphere, thickening the very air, and fastening to the magnetism of his brothers. There was no need to move from the Throne, the seat of power alone was an exemplification of how deep the roots of his might carried themselves. The illustrations that ran the reach of his arms trickled alive with color once more, bleeding a power source unknown to the many gathered here today. A concentration of the hungriest and most undiluted coercion of the Dark Side crawled from the mastery he possessed, weaving towards the Force Spirit as a wide-mouthed serpent haunting it's kill.

 

 

  • "These relics are food to the belly of the Trinity. Brothers, dine with me."

 

 

The tantamount force of the three, of the Trinity, was in a state of feral unraveling. Exodus, the Dark King set upon his throne, marrying his supremacy to the two men who had just sworn their devotion to him upon return. The wistful sound of the Force could be felt inside their veins, bellowing out as heavy winds would comb through mighty forests. As an answer to the language of old that fell from the mouth of the Dark Lord, a dread command of his own spirits shuddered alive, siphoning an ancient power for the Dark Lord to consume. None without his eyes needed to see them, for they carried no physical manifestation, but the chill of their presence swept through the Halls turning common flesh bitterly cold. From his imperious seat, Exodus extended a hand filled with curse, pointing towards the unwelcome guest. The rending of these lands and the pillaging of Ar-Pharazon was at their ease of command, and on this day, Exodus would relish the feast with his conquering kinsmen.

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Do you think a girl this feeble lived through the curse of the Nightsisters through pure force of will alone?

 

The voice of Ar-Pharazon now echoed through the hall, a gale of the force beginning to pick up napkins and tablecloths, whipping wine from cups and spilling it upon the tapestries on the walls. Servants bowed instinctively to the voice of power, crying out for their masters to save them. Their wails adding to the howling wind as the Trinity began to fight.

 

No. I was there. In the darkest night

 

Stun rounds fired from Delta’s twin blaster pistols slammed into the young girl but had no effect other than to cause the muscles not controlled by the force to convulse in painful trembling. He stopped firing almost immediately and reholstered, his scream of rage reaching out to the young girl. Inside Telperien she was fiercely calm, happily in her father’s embrace. As Raia scrambled away in fear to her father, a bubbling laugh burst forth from Telperien’s mouth and the black oil that dripped from the crystal began to cling to everything it touched. Forming a long trail between the two dathomiri girls. The oil sucked at the claws of Roe'gall and Vex'aedr and wrapped around their legs like a serpent about to devour its prey, they were bound fast, immovable as statues before the Great Ar-Pharazon. Their howls turning to whines of fear.

 

The force of will exerted by the Sith in council before the young Telperien bent her back at the hips, her knuckles caressing the floor before she straightened against the gale, her eyes glowing with the golden fire. Her healed arm pointed towards the frightened Raia, and the double voice boomed in the great hall of the Sith Lords as the presence began to ebb against their power

Destruction is her Birthright. For this Sin Eater will touch the Gods.

A wicked grin grabbed the youthful face that showed mostly teeth and pure malice. Images pulsed through the force flashed into the minds of everyone that would accept it. And those that resisted it, the images were pounded into their skulls with the force of a hundred hammers of the chaos gods.

 

The first was of a Royal Family slaughtered. Bone chips and viscera spraying from gunshot wounds inflicted for the pettiest of reasons. Children gunned down on the holonet. A young Sith girl cut down and cast into space.

 

The next was of a city in the clouds ripped from its berth by wracking explosions. The cries of ten million innocents said only one name. Montar

Destruction follows in our wake does it not Darth Quietus? It is our Birthright as Sith. Our Curse

 

The fireplace at the end of the great hall burst into sparkling light which illuminated the ghoulish grin of Ar-Pharazon stretched across the childish features of his daughter by blood. When he spoke it was for the last time. His voice piercing the howling wind as he spoke to the Dark Lord, the Exodean King.

The Trinity is formed, with you Sith’ari at its head. King of Kings, The Galaxy will bow before your spearhead, but the Children will cast you down from on high and crush your remains under heel.

 

And with those words, the wind ceased, the Fallen Lord was gone, felled by the might of the Sith Council, leaving two young girls crying and frightened. The crystal at Raia’s neck remained blackened and oily to the touch, dripping with malice and the darkside. The storm was over.

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An encrypted comm came in for Exodus, moments after the Dark Lord had sent his to Kain.

 

 

I understand. Framework will be necessary to support and keep hidden the illicit financial networks we have acquired, I will handle that. Anymore, currency is handled digitally, and I can easily arrange an expansive impenetrable shroud to hide the movements of our money from even the most scrutinizing eyes. As for Nar Shaddaa, it is as good as ours in all but title. The Gems may head up things publically, but they've agreed to be backed privately by the Sith and allow the potential profits the planet has to offer to be tapped by our networks. I recommend establishing a garrison on the planet to better protect our interests, perhaps disguised as a casino or a hospital. I can handle that, if you prefer.

 

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Like my posts? Google "zalgo font."

If you meet me, have some courtesy, have some sympathy, have some taste.
Use all your well-learned politics, or I'll lay your soul to waste.

 

 

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Her breathing came in ragged gasps as she managed to surface against the tide that had been the muck-like presence of the psychotic man who'd fathered Telperiën. Her fingers were still locked in a vice-like grip where she'd managed to find Raynuk’s arm as she fought her way against the perverse presence of the now banished Ar-Pharazon.

 

Never before had she seen or been exposed to such power. The Trinity had risen and had made short work of the unwelcome guest, effectively demonstrating that Sith such as him no longer seemed to have a place within the Order.

 

Try as she might, the visions of wanton destruction persisted as the banquet hall came into focus once again and the pitch black of her eyes gave way to a deep brown that mirrored her adoptive father’s.

 

Sith’ari.

 

The word seemed to echo in her mind and she knew it had been one she'd heard brought up by Draken and Raynuk before.

 

So shall the Sith'ari return due to the Weakness of Inferiors and find the Hidden Blade with Manipulation of Life.

 

It was now Draken's voice that echoed in her memory coupled with the fading burning sensation that had been emanating from the Hidden Dagger tattoo just moments before. The phantasm of Ar-Pharazon had named the Dark Lord the Sith'ari. Suddenly the horrific images were back.

 

Once more, she felt as though she couldn't breathe, so she clung to Raynuk for a few moments longer before she found her feet.

“I-I need some air,” she admitted before pulling away from him. “I'll be okay, Tētis. Please make sure Delta's daughter is okay too.”

 

The fear was still evident in her eyes as she increased the distance between the two of them until she offered the room a small bow before dashing out the door, Vex and Roe dutifully on her heels.

 

For as long as she could remember, her instincts had always led her up. Climbing the trees of her Dathomiri home had always been her favorite escape from Mitral’s restrictive rules. It was that instinct that drove her now, climbing any stairwell she could find, often taking the steps two at a time.

 

So it was that she came to find herself on the uppermost spire of the temple that looked out over the valley of tombs where she’d first met Raynuk, the cool night air tugging insistently at her hair, hood, and clothes. Grasping one of the pillars for support, she stepped up and onto the railing, being careful not to slip.

 

As the Korribani winds whipped up to meet her, she closed her eyes and let them help her find her center.

 

Beside her, both Vex'aedr and Roe'gall stood ready to pull her back if she should attempt to let the winds carry her away.

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With a whisper upon the rising wind, came a slight trickle of Force Energy, almost imperceptible, but with a tangible flavour. It was almost as if a window had opened within the Force and a flow of fresh air had begun to disrupt the stale air of a long-lost tomb. The hair on the scruff of the necks of both Vex'aedr and Roe'gall began to stand on end.

 

The Dathomiri girl, who rested in the caress of the evening winds that swept off the Valley of the Dark Lords would hear the faint resonations of chanting upon the warm and twisting wind that grasped at her as it passed. Before her the Valley lay in a blanket of darkness, but at the rocky crags of redstone that ringed the valley could be seen the distant flicker of torches.

 

Passing from the valley below came a shadow, as if upon the wings of a fallen beast, and its tendrils wound about the railings below Raia, creeping like smoke. The sounds of the night began to dim as if muted by a blanket of nothing. From the corner of Raia’s eye she would see a figure step cautiously from the darkness and lean across the railings to observe the valley below.

 

The figure was cloaked in ebony, with scarlet letterings about its hem. As much as it was obviously there, its hands gripping the railings, it also appeared distant as if built from shadow itself. A sigh echoed from the hood’s center, with grinding sadness upon its notes.

 

"T-these nights pass s-so quickly..."

 

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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The Grand Duke exited hyperspace in a flash of light. It would make their second visit in recent to a hallowed but long dead world. Draken stroked his beard as he guided the ship towards the Korriban, something about this trip was not sitting well with him. The last time he had been here, cold calculated rage had fuelled him as he went to war. This trip though he could feel the Force prodding him closer to the planet. He grimaced and glanced over at Alora to see if she was feeling something as well.

 

“Take the controls, something isn’t right on Korriban.”

 

He stood up and walked from the cockpit, his sudden departure waking Krakis who slowly stood up and padded silently after him. He strode into the training room and grabbed his staff as the panther reached his side. Draken opened a small safe and removed a scroll. He unrolled it to a section and re-read a passage that hadn’t made sense to him last time.

 

-So will the Hidden Dagger be tempered by the Lord of Destruction and be raised up by the Arcaned One-

 

“Emperor’s Black Balls!”

 

Draken’s curse rang out through the training room and was responded to by Krakis’s low growl. They were close enough now to the planet that he could sense a few presences that he recognized with the Force but one was missing. He reached out again, searching the area slowly to make sure he hadn’t missed her but still he found no trace of her presence. The crystal on the other hand he could feel, that worried him.

 

He pondered a moment and then reached out to the crystal. It took him a moment to relocate it, racked as it was by layers of chaos. He unleashed a purging blast of power through to the crystal enough to temporarily beat back the chaos. As soon as the crystal was purged, he reached out and flicked the crystal through the force so that it would chime to get her attention.

E nomini patri, et Fili e spiritu sancti.

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The foreign song wrapped her in its embrace as it carried on the wind from the valley below. Most of the words she couldn't understand, but the cadence and tonality matched the whispers that had first echoed through the archways of the temple when she'd first arrived. There was something about the night air that seemed to amplify the chanting and she closed her eyes in order to better hear its song and the power and strength it bore, her Force-presence becoming one with the planetary field, effectively hiding her within the natural harmonics.

 

As quickly as it had come, the spoken song faded and she opened her eyes just as a voice met her ears. She gasped in surprise and would have lost her footing had it not been for the ever-vigilant Roe'gall, who grabbed her like a pup by the hood and brought her safely over the barrier meant to keep normal people from toppling to their doom. Vex'aedr lowered his head at the figure, placing himself between it and Raia as Roe'gall nudged her to her feet.

 

Absently her hand found the tree-like crystal at her neck, though she dropped it quickly as she felt the weighty darkness now contained within the confines of its structure. What have I done? her thoughts came errantly, distracted for the moment by the ebony glow that had overtaken the cheery red glow that her and Raynuk's blood had given it. I've ruined it. I've ruined what bonded us. What if he doesn't want me anymore? I don't know how to fix this...

 

Almost as though someone had heard her silent plea, the coalescent blackness churned for several moments before returning to the brilliant crimson she remembered and it seemed to vibrate in her hand. Then, just as quickly the darkness bled back in and overtook the crystal once more. Her heart sank and for the moment it was all she could fixate on.

 

Draken

Draken had made the crystal, so surely he'd know some way to cleanse it? A low growl from Vex'aeder drew her attention to the what or who she should probably be more concerned with in the moment.

 

"W-who are you?" she asked looking around for any others that might be hiding in the shadows as well. For her own confidence, she reached back and placed her hand on Roe'gall's neck but jerked it back when she felt his hackles up. "What do you want?"

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As events unfolded across the galaxy, guided by Kain's hand, encrypted summarized updates were sent to Exodus for him to peruse later. The Dark Lord would be kept appraised of all things in his domain, all under his control. The webs wove ever wider, ever thicker, soon...to cover the galaxy.

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Like my posts? Google "zalgo font."

If you meet me, have some courtesy, have some sympathy, have some taste.
Use all your well-learned politics, or I'll lay your soul to waste.

 

 

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Yes, Master. Her answer was curt; deferent and respectful, but confident.

 

Breathe, side-step, roundhouse, dip, leg sweep, then tumble.

Throat punch, fist-to-jaw, knee-to-abdomen, then push through into tumble; follow with a handspring.

 

A sheen of exertion hung upon her stony face as the Twi’lek worked. A myriad of invisible targets surrounded her and assailed her without relent.

 

One inch off; compensate a little. Move to the right instead of the left.

 

At some distance from the Praxeum, Keenava swam in scraps of power to temper her physical talents, which felt lax, especially considering her new limb. It was slow at first, but every new discovery and every little mistake drew her one step closer to what she had before she lost her flesh. And, although Sith relied on the force for abilities that others could not hope to attain, Keenava did as she was taught.

  • Your body is a weapon. Every part of you must be as lethal, if not more than your mind and your tools.

The reflex to rely on the force to compensate for her leg was a weakness. She was who she was; there was no denying that now. No one was holding her back, but herself. Determination struck her brow and denied fatigue as it clung to the back of her weary shoulders. Perseverance shined through each discovery, helping her piece together new techniques to adapt and overcome.

 

She awaited her instruction with baited curiosity. But excellence was not something to sit around and hope for. If she wanted to ascend to heights that would nullify her shame, she needed to work; and work beyond the point when mortal hands would tire.

 

Night fell, threatening her with a blanket of doubt, but the power of will pushed her ever forward...

Edited by Guest

 

 

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Seemingly no longer the center of attention, a good thing in her mind, Qaela faded to the edge of the hall to observe and calculate. The Sith here weren't going to kill her, at least not today, so she needed to figure out what her next step was. She did take some interest in the interactions of both her daughter and Raia as the latter attempted to undo the tangles of the curse that still lingered within her. That interest quickly turned to alarm and fascination as she felt the presence she hadn't felt in years, that of the great Lord Ar-Pharazon. Normally, connections with the dead were handled by the oldest crones in her Tribe, so beyond her spells over Bothawui, she never really had great amounts of experience handling them, but it didn't take long at all before she could tell this was going to be an issue.

 

Somehow, Ar-Pharazon's spirit was clawing on the spirit of their daughter. She mused for a moment if this was a result in her tearing the veil between the living and dead to remove the core of the curse and that it had inadvertently attracted the Sith master to his own blood. That or being in this Sith haven and with so many other Sith present may have proven an irresistible magnet to him. That or he may have been hiding within her the entire time. She didn't know nor did she much care. What she did care about was the immediately hostile visions and emotions flooding the hall coming from both Ar-Pharazon and the Sith masters.

 

It took just two heartbeats to realize why. Abomination! Ar-Pharazon was not just projecting, he was attempting to take full possession of her daughter turning her into an Abomination. Her horror was apparently matched by the other Sith who were taking action in their own way. The hostility they were projecting wasn't directed at the girl, but rather the spirit that was controlling her.

 

Seeing Ca'Aran's stun bolts offer no effect, she knew that Ar-Pharazon wasn't simply a phantom, but had more than enough power to be a serious threat. She began forming a basic spell that would theoretically divide the spirit from the living, but before she could cast it, she felt the combined forces of the Sith masters building up. Whatever they were unleashing, here in their own temple, it was more powerful than anything she could wield alone. She dropped her spell and simply watched as the Sith did what they were aiming to do.

 

When all was done, she felt Ar-Pharazon's essence absorbed into the crystal Raia once carried. There, it was contained, full of his malice and hatred for all that didn't worship him. Even then, she couldn't help but get a very unpleasant feeling deep in her gut. Though there was no emotional connection between him, three beings with half of his blood grew within her for months. A part of her soul was bound to be affected by such a man's power and the connection they did have. She stared at the crystal, wondering what the Sith were to do with it.

 

For now, those concerns were secondary. Telperiën, now free of the Abomination, was in poor shape. Qaela rushed to her daughter, already whispering the words to a spell she had only vaguely considered using. For this time, for this small few moments, she had an opportunity to break through the remnants of the curse still trying to rewrap itself around the girl after the spirit of Ar-Pharazon broke free. For now, she could do something to end things.

 

When she got to Telperiën, she placed her hand on her daughter's forehead and closed her own eyes. The curse was there, weakened, but present. Telperiën was too young, too weak, and too broken at this point to resist it, but perhaps she didn't have to. When in its stronger form, it was anchored too greatly to its host, but that host had also been possessed by Ar-Pharazon who was more than powerful enough to shatter it in life. Unleashed as he was by Raia, the curse was ripped asunder, but not completely eradicated.

 

It took only a few seconds for her spell to work its purpose. Using their link and shared blood as mother and daughter, Qaela temporarily bonded her spirit with the girl and drew upon herself the curse. Pain immediately doubled her over and blinded her. She released the girl and collapsed to the ground as the full effect of the curse wrapped around her. Every cell within her body seemed aflame, every bit of malice poured over her, and for many seconds, Qaela felt what her daughter had felt on Dathomir.

 

Despite its strength and malice, Qaela was not her young, innocent daughter. As guilt and pain flowed, her soul fought back. She had done terrible things and accepted the consequences. Her soul was black, true, but it was also stronger and more mature. She resisted the curse until it was retreating back into nothingness. The pain gnawed at her, but she wouldn't let it take her. Despite it all, she loved her daughter and Ca'Aran, enough that she would do whatever she could to keep them safe. She would stretch out her own hand and hack it off if it was what was necessary. She would not leave them alone in this Galaxy, not when she could do more to keep them safe.

 

The curse weakened and faded, struck back by her own determination and stubbornness, a trait that had gotten her in trouble many times. She wouldn't let this curse beat her and so she beat it back. And back. And back some more. She beat the curse back until it was nothing but a speck, then she hammered it one more time until it was gone. When it was done, Qaela remained there on the ground, covered in sweat and in great amounts of pain leftover from her body's struggle.

 

Telperiën was free of the last remnants of the curse the Nightsisters had placed on her and now of the spirit of Ar-Pharazon. She was far from doing well as she still had much physical damage and psychological trauma from what happened, but there was bacta and she had time to heal. There would be a price for Qaela to pay in getting this victory, but she would pay it gladly.

Qaela Sig

Send PM's to Travis.

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As the dismal looking planet that was the Sith homeworld came into view Alora could swear she felt the dark energies radiating from it with a more malicious twist than usual. It might have been just a thought or it may have had something to do with the gathering of Sith that were already there, though something wasn’t quite right. She glanced up as Draken asked her to take the controls, giving him a short nod and watching as the large black panther followed him closely. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth as the little black cub took a swipe at Krakis’s tail as he went past her. It in turn twitched as if he was very annoyed. “Stop that you little minx, you know you’ll be in trouble with him when he comes back.” The cub just rubbed her head against Alora’s leg then rolled on her back, batting her paws at the material of her cloak, Shadow’s tail twitching as it swished back and forth. With a laugh and shake of her head the Sith Mistress turned back to check the controls, announcing who they were and requesting clearance for landing before putting them into a waiting orbit and engaging the autopilot.

 

Soon after they had left Coruscant orbit she had changed out of the constricting Darkknell Shipyard Industries uniform and back into her Sith armour and robes, thinking all the while that she would have to redesign the DSI uniform and maybe send through a few more ship design interiors while she was at it. She had changed her robe twice because of Shadow tearing at the hem with her sharp claws. She glanced down at the playful mischief maker, teasing her with a touch through the Force. It had become a great game, Alora creating illusions for the cub to chase, touching her mind to the feline’s to create their own form of communication. It made her wonder why she’d never gotten an animal companion before… Her violet eyes were sparkling with humor until she looked out the view screen once more.

 

Inevitably her eyes were drawn towards the area on the Planet below in which they had spilled much of the Cults blood the last time they had been here. Where she had regained her freedom, where Raynuk had been resurrected and where she and Draken had been reunited. Not only had she and her love been reunited, but so had she and her niece Emily. It hadn’t been all that long ago but so much had happened in that short time. Again her thoughts returned to her niece, wondering how she was, where she was and what the Cult had done to her. Alora’s eyes narrowed as she thought of how much she wanted to tear the Cultists to shreds. They had stolen time from her, including her wedding. Bridezilla would be a mild term when she got done with those cretins.

 

“Emperor’s Black Balls!”

 

At Draken’s shout - and Krakis’ growl - she glanced quickly at the console before taking off in his direction yelling to the droid to man the cockpit for the moment. With their connection she knew he was in the training room... Raia... he was trying to reach out to the girl. Alora headed there with Shadow right at her side, the cub having shed her playful mood as she picked up on the emotions of the two Sith. She paused in the doorway, glancing down at her cub to see it arching its back, fur standing on end as she hissed, spitting at something unseen. The Sith Mistress knew better than to break her love’s concentration so she waited, connection open if he needed her reinforcement.

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Darth Alraune

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“Like seriously what the kriff was that all about? One minute we are chatting about chicks and the next good old LAP decides that instead of force ghost fighting the ghosts of 12 darth mauls he’s gunna go after Tel? I think not.”

 

Delta twirled his blaster pistol menacingly at the walls as if to taunt any remaining ghosties to appear and try him. Heck next thing he knew Oblivion and Dagon would walk through the door hand in hand whistling ‘dixie’ and invite them all to a cupcake and tea party. Not bloody likely. He reholstered the stolen pistol he had grabbed off Scorp’s dessicated corpse and walked over to where Qaela and Telperien were. He checked on them and picked both women up and brought them over to one of the large couches to rest. He kissed Qaela on the lips and sat with her until the worst had passed. He looked over to where the Trinity had formed when both the girls were asleep.

 

“So whats our next move oh King of Kings?”

 

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Ca'Aran

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The shadowed figure kept his form turned towards the darkened Valley of the Dark Lords, and the sounds of the growls of Vex'aedr and Roe'gall seemed to give him no measure of concern. The crystal that lay about her neck seemed to pulsate with the flow of the shadows about them, like a torch flickering in a cave. Her words seemed to hold no meaning to him.

 

The shadows parted for a moment, and beams of starlight began to caress the warm stone beneath their feet. The stars, in their constellations above seemed to take on a greater brightness in the contrast between the creeping of the night. The stars were tangled, their location far above the Valley gave them unparalleled view of the night’s glory, devoid of pollution of the night.

 

The view from the Outer Rim, looking towards the center of the spiraling galaxy was incomparable. An apt astronomer would be able to decipher the distant patterns of both the Hydian Way and the Perlemian Trade Route as they channeled hyperspace travel towards the Galactic Core. The figure pointed to some of the fainter patterns hidden within the clutter of stars and they seemed to illuminate themselves to outshine their brothers. His voice was soft but carried a deepset power.

 

“...Andracca the Wyrm…”

 

Summoned to mind was the image of an enormous Drake, his coat aglitter with coals of flame, illuminated with each breath. His monstrous form dwarfed the mountains, and their twisting and jagged crags looked like splinters beneath his bestial claws.

 

“H-he shaped the Valley before the waking of The Infinite Empire… Upon his back rode his tamer…”

 

A new set of stars illuminated, drawing the outline of a spear held aloft by a strong arm. Into mind sprang a woman with crimson hair in a cascade of warrior braids, lithe of body, clothed in reptilian hide.

 

“Scatha, the Worldmother, who travelled the gates of Infinity...”

 

The starlight began to fall in silvered beams to illuminate Raia as well as Vex'aedr and Roe'gal. The figure’s hand appeared to glitter between black and silver as the starbeams passed through them, casting away the shadows.

 

“You are a daughter to Scatha, and carry w-with you her p-power.”

 

The crystal about Raia’s neck seemed to pulsate with a deep sensation of reckoning, which was echoed by the shadow within the Force. There was no malice there, only wonder and a sadness whose roots ran deeper than the stones of the Valley, to the very center of the world.

 

“They called her a Witch of Dathomir.”

 

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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“Patience, Vigo.” The calm of his voice escaped his lips autonomously. He took the moment to compartmentalize the sequence of events that had played out, and to confirm the readouts on the handheld that had come in prior, before returning his attention to the strange Bounty Hunter. Exodus scrutinized the way in which this man carried himself, deducting various mannerisms he had displayed before the public room, and realizing that he was of a breed similar to that of the Hutt. His name alone was rumored with exploits of constant irrationality, but it was his criminal expertise that was important. The Dark Lord released his vice on the ends of the throne and leaned backwards to sink further into the Tu’kata leatherings. “The Black Sun, and what remains of the holdings readily available to you, will be transferred to me through a man that goes by the name of Kain. He is of personal counsel, and will secure the proceedings. Your personal possessions will remain untouched, Hunter." Exodus genuinely concluded, with a clever smile. Gathered intelligence on this man showed that Exodus admittedly was not a fan of his rather brash escapades, but his fearlessness was a thing to be honored, especially in the face of Raynuk Montar. ".. You may start with the terminal on the western wall. Once that business is cleared. I have a contract for you."

 

Exodus stood from his chair once more, rather apathetic to the previous exclamations that he was indeed the Sith'ari, more concerned with the state of his people than anything else at present moment. He looked towards Lord Diresto with slight concern, the marvel of a Jedi with freedom to roam these halls was of course unexpected, and trusting the fall without a measure of proof would be unwise. "..Where do you stand with Dahar? It is time your Jedi proved himself useful. The information he carries must be ours or I will do what you should have done the moment he landed. If he does find worth among our people, then you will join the Vigo on a particular undertaking." At this point, it was clear he made the move to address the necessary people before hearing what anyone had to interrupt with, too much time had passed in idle communion. "If there are any that disprove of your supremacy at the helm of the Krath, then it will be proven in battle, and I will enjoy the exhibition on these very sands of Korriban." Exodus pointed towards the porthole in the wall, the one that revealed the Valley of the Dark Lords and the sands that fenced the sacred lands. If it came to battle, the adrenaline of contention would be a pleasant change to the semantics.

 

 

  • "..The same goes for you, Lord Montar."

 

 

The powerhouses that held rank within the Trinity were not safe from protest, and from the discussions earlier, Exodus had learned that there was strife between certain practitioners of the caste. This was not an issue, nor was it a hindrance to the growth of the Order. The Dark Lord was heavily versed with the culture of the Hutt and what he brought forth, but the other Krath had steered clear of the Assassin for far too long and a question of his loyalty and his credibility was in play. If he so wished, he could prove himself on the motherland when he had cast his anchor and arrived at last. Exodus could feel their harrowing calls through the force, their presences unmasked and all within proximity to the Praxeum. A familiar woman from his past was here as well, and he could smell her from miles away. "A great many have answered my call, the next one will test their strengths." Exodus allowed the silence to breathe for a moment, to allow his council to interject with their own thoughts if need be. The masked Stalker at his side kept remote, while Exodus drew words on the small datapad in response to the others.

 

 

Encrypted to Kain:

 

Most excellent Kain, the census on targeted growth is profound. The Garrison on Nar Shaddaa as well as other key locations are ready for harvest, I will send a team to advocate these ventures. There are other sources under my control that will soon make it's way into the fold, but for now, Black Sun is the priority until they are securely under our ward. There are several sites that I have sent personal teams to address, once they are primed, I will have you flesh them out. Keep me informed, Warden.

 

 

Encrypted to Nightshade:

 

Young Keenava. There was a particular broadcasting done awhile back, the entire presentation struck me as odd. I had a team trace and analyze the ad campaign and came up with certain irregularities. To eliminate exposure, I sent a trio of Stalkers to track the influx of volunteers for the unusual program and reports claim that those same volunteers have all seemed to vanish one by one. It is a pharmaceutical company using common folk as practice, but the disappearances are more than curious to me. There is one creature tied to the investments, a thing by the name of Dordjooba, find him and source him for information. Send me what you find.

 

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Was there something wrong with the permit?

 

For what seemed like the hundredth time, Ailbasí poured over the display of her datapad trying to figure out what went wrong. She had filed through the proper channels at uni, and all of the veri-sigs were showing up complete and authentic. She examined the datapad on a spartan cot in a tight but well lit cell. The place was so clean that it evoked the sterile nature of a doctor’s office, or a newly built hab block before the masses were let in to mark and stain it with their collective essence.

 

Was it Nasovicci playing some kind of sick practical joke?

 

The thought of that scumbag strolling in with some of his frat minions, his nasally laugh escaping through his smugly crooked smile was enough for Ailbasí to feel her tiny fists tightening up into balls. The rodent faced bottom feeder had been throwing an adult tantrum for weeks because Ailbasí had refused his so called generous offer to be one of his assistants. Everyone knew what Nasovicci wanted “assistance” with, but he was tenured and published, so nothing was ever done about it. He couldn’t just keep this up for ever, acting like he could take whatever he…

 

A very cold and intimate fear slithered up Ailbasí’s spine, with legs of ice and nausea. While the truth was never a certain mark with the Sith, it was said that their prisons were where the more sadistic among them practiced their art, tormenting and cutting on their victims for dark rituals or idle pleasure. This place was clean, well lit, and while sparse it wasn’t inhumane. Nearby, mournful musical notes drifted from another cell like in the holovids, almost like a wink at the absurdity of this being a Sith gulag.

 

Sith were a highly chaotic society and there was no way in retrospect to know whether the men that had imprisoned her were actually Sith officials or just imposters. Regardless, Ailbasí’s mind frantically referenced whatever images she could remember of Sith guards or officials, but in her state of panic the mental images seemed blurred and distorted.

 

Reflexively, sharpened claws extended from Ailbasí’s fingers and toes, but the reality of the situation was washing over her like gallons of nearly frozen and brackish sea water, robbing her lungs of air as her body rebelled with short, desperate gasps and a panicked staccato of heartbeats.

 

If they come in here I won’t be able to stop them from taking what they want.

 

Tears streaming down her face, Ailbasí curled up in a tight ball on the cot hugging herself, wishing to anything that was listening that she could make herself so small that she could vanish.

 

Admin edit: Testing something

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The overlarge Hutt relaxed himself, his energy bubbling under his oily and flabby surface like a teakettle ready to sing. For the first time in a very long time he felt almost content and satiated. Not since his battle against Geki had he felt so very alive. Ar-Pharazon’s demons had long ago fallen, and at long last the shadows of the once great monolith of the Sith had fallen with them. If he wished to make a return, he need not occupy the flesh of a child. The Lord of the Krath felt a spike of energy in the Force as it passed from space to the sands of Korriban, augmented by the love of another.

 

Draken and Alora...

 

The Hutt beckoned his servants to set another pair of places at the feasting table, with eatery from Serenno and seductive foods for the woman. The Hutt’s crimson gaze moved across the array of phallic chocolates and natural aphrodisiac foods and his mind pondered for a moment

 

...I literally know nothing other then she is a seductress…

 

The words of the Dark Lord awoke his thoughts as The Spider spoke to the Hutt’s uncertainty and unease at the arrival of his one time rival. The Hutt stretched his blubbery hide in a long and frothy sigh, which sent a rivulet of slobber from the corner of his grimy lips.

 

<>

 

His dripping lips took on a twisted smile, one that was meant to be coy, but only achieved a horrifyingly grotesque expression.

 

<>

 

The Hutt’s eyes took on the complexion of sulphuric yellow, transitioning from their typical crimson

 

<>

 

A comlink chirped on the fatbit that adorned his wrist. A layer of fat rolled back to reveal a bit of sparkling technology that was strapped tightly across the flesh. The band it was attached to was certainly strained by the job of keeping at bay the power of his rippling hide. He nodded to Exodus with another jovial smile.

 

<

 

He scrolled over the messages as they arrived, with a blank and dull expression adorning his face. With a chubby hand he placed a monocle over his right eye and squinted at the tiny lettering that scrolled past

 

<>

 

He fiddled with the settings for a moment before the strapping snapped and the integrated datapad smashed to smithereens upon the carpeting. The Hutt breathed in a large gulp of air in disgust, and his nostrils flattened in a rage. Instinctively the Acolytes milling about nearby dived for cover. The Hutt yanked a datapad from its wall mount with a gesture of the Force and levitated it at arm's reach where he entered his passcode

 

<>

 

He glanced across the prisoner reports and selected one at random to read for no reason in particular. He sent a reply to the prisonblock.

 

<<Dark Lord, it would appear we have a scientist that was captured with a mistaken permit. If you don’t mind I’m going to see to this oddly mundane task personally with a proper trial! Would you like to be the defense attorney?>>

 

Two guards would come to the cellblock of Ailbasí Zirtani, both Sith Warriors seeking Lordship status and deliver her to the throne room. Accompanying her would be the arresting personnel and a full report of her observed activities.

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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A low whistle of breath escaped Delta’s nose at the request. He wasn’t dissatisfied with the deal, it would save the organization, but he didn’t like how it felt like such a hostile takeover. But he knew that this was now his new viceroy, and orders were something he was good at. So he did what he was told and began the asset transfer as ordered, while maintaining direct control of the Marie and the large casinos on Cloud City. He plugged his datapad into the wall and clicking through a few controls and firewalls, and accessing the long datalist, began the transfer of personnel files, asset lists, secret documents, holocaust denial research, coruscant memorial conspiracy theories, and long lists of secret facilities and hidden assets. All to the council of the dark lords. With a few clicks, nearly 50 million employees received notice of change of employment and their retirement funds changed from Black Sun and Red Dawn Hegemon International, to the Sith Committee for the Wellbeing of Nations. A well renowned nationalized fund, backed by solid investments from Coruscant to Therancisn. All stocks were liquidated and placed into these funds, and the audits of black sun accounts showed a few glaring errors. There were several backdoors syphoning off money in Black Sun accounts! These were isolated, traced, and tracked back to the survivors foundation as such a large transfers of funds quickly identified any part credit transactions. Delta had seen Wookiee Office Space. It wasn’t very hard. The fact that it hadn’t been seen earlier made him quite worried. But in the end it wasn’t really his problem anymore.

 

While the transfer, hacking, and shenanigans transpired over several hours, Delta was left to his own thoughts. He watched Qaela and Telperien sleep and was left with pangs of sadness that he hadn’t felt in years. Sounds ricocheted around his helmet and he was drawn back to a life long gone.

 

Blaster bolts tearing through cyan coloured cloth

 

Feminine screams of pain

 

Crystal Blue Eyes staring lifeless, accusingly back at him. Piercing through the T visor of the old republic era Katarn Armour.

 

His heart dropped out of his chest and he was in utter darkness again.

 

Crunch

 

Durasteel soled boots of droids flattened the snowpack of a harsh Mygeeten winter, and the biting cold wind howled against his white camouflaged armour. The Jedi girl next to him buried in the snow as they watched the IGBC base of operations. He could feel the warm touch of the force as she warmed their bodies against the bitter -100F temperature, for without it, he would have simply frozen in place even with the heating elements of his armour. He would imagine that she would be quite a jedi popsicle without the force, even with the fur lined, blue jedi robes, the hood covering her flaming red hair, and the macrobinoculars covering her eyes. She could sense him looking at her and smiled.

“Wakey wakey Ca’Aran. Wouldn’t want to miss your shot now would you.”

 

Her girlish giggle filled his heart.

 

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Ca'Aran

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The Sword Logic left hyperspace like a child taken by CPS, taking a high approach to Korriban's main temple. Of course the starfighter squadrons were nearby, constantly running patrols, and Kain was saluted with an honor guard on his entry despite the irritation it caused him. The AI preferred subtlety, fanfare of any type overrode any kind of element of surprise he may have had. But it also wasn't something he necessarily needed here, and so he withheld admonishment, dealing with whatever came. He did, however, make a mental note to upgrade his craft at a later date with a changeable transponder unit, one capable of switching identities at the drop of a hat.

 

Landing on the planet, a messenger was sent to deliver a summons to the man known as Delta-73, requesting his presence in a small meeting room, away from the larger gatherings of Sith. In moments, Kain was waiting there for him, disguised as a Duros. His crystal array was also active, generating a Force presence for the droid, in case anyone cared to spy on the meeting...not like it would be over serious state secrets, anyways, but Kain preferred to be prepared.

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Like my posts? Google "zalgo font."

If you meet me, have some courtesy, have some sympathy, have some taste.
Use all your well-learned politics, or I'll lay your soul to waste.

 

 

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