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Akheron observed silently, as each victim fell to the death that hid in the shadows. Their own screams in the last moments their only comfort as his apprentice ended their lives and added the souls to the Fanged God's tally. He observed that while unorthodox, his apprentice methods worked and are within the perimeters of his objective. 

 

Misdirection and subterfuge were afterall hallmarks of a Assassin. What sound there was came only from the traps being triggered and the Acklay who had been tricked into one, a fact that brought a smile to the Sith Warrior. It appeared his apprentice was finally learning, adapting to the situation accordingly as needed. As his apprentice advanced to the next area, Akheron decided to up the anti a little and introduce a additional lesson.

 

One that make use of his apprentice connection to the Force. He turned on the speaker briefly.

 

"Excellent my apprentice, you are doing well. You are more a Assassin with each step, misdirection, subterfuge....these are the mark of the greatest Assassins. Keep it up. To aid the next section, one with holocameras...I offer a additional lesson. One which requires you delve deeper into the Darkness the Fanged God affords us."

 

Pausing, he continued.

 

"The Darkness offers us much as you know, but a Assassin can use it in other ways to aid in keeping their target unaware. One such technique is one that allows us to temporarily disable a security holocam, causing a brief period of static, allowing those  who use it to pass while only alerting security to a minor holocam malfunction. Or so it is said, A Force-flash. Try this as you proceed forwards.

 

Focus within the Darkness and upon remaining hidden. Compell the Darkness to aid you, directed upon any camera within your sight line and pass unseen both by sight, sound and technology." 

 

After that moment, again the room was silent, other than the roaming gungans and remaining Acklay's.

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"The universe started in darkness at a time when light didn't exist, and that is how it will end. Chaos and suffering is what brings us together. In chaos a man or woman will show who he or she really is and in suffering they will speak the truth. We are darkness incarnate, we are the evil. This cannot be denied, even by me. But without us there is no redemption, passion or order." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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Darth Awenydd slipped the ocular interface up and over her head, fitting it into place with leather strapping amongst her tousled hair. Blinking into new light, the HUD of the interface gave the inside of the RZ-2 A-wing interceptor’s cockpit a streaming display of data. A real-time display gave the number of seconds left on the Shag Pabol Run before the Oktos Nebula would be within micro-jump distance, and beside that and ever-growing calculation of the ever-longer odds against her success. A mournful beep and troodle came from Mynyddog, her S19 Astromech.

 

The Sith Hunter sniffed a disdainful retort, and wrenched the A-Wing out of the starry embrace of Hyperspace. The ocular interface gave a star-map reading, showing their relative distance to Rorak, and the distance to jump to a micropoint 12 light-years outside of Ganath. From there, it was an even longer run against the odds to the gravity lens of Nal Hutta.

 

Mynyddog fed out data, and Fieldgrey’s fingers twitched as she set parameters to the hyperdrive. She let her mind sink into the predatory flow, the Force guiding her instincts, tweaking data to cut their run about Circumtore. She could feel a humming, resounding rhythm rise from behind her, the Superbia's refrain. An alarming beep from the droid made her chuckle, a terrifyingly predatory sound, like a Lyanx dashing the throat from a Nerf-Calf. With a flip of a switch, the A-Wing leapt into the abyss.

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A force flash? Solus mused this over as his master’s speaker died down. That didn’t exactly sound wealthy. And yet, how his master worded it, it didn’t sound like that at all. Perhaps…

 

But first Solus needed to find a holocamera. Having walked a distance away from the corpse of the Aklay, he heard his next target more above him then on his level. Solus glanced upwards and noted how some of areas in the place had been elevated much higher than the others.  

 

As good as place as any. If anything, the elevated area’s walls could provide a vantage point to get his bearings on the other Gungans. But getting up there would be an issue. 

 

The elevated area was about 20 feet high, not counting the walls that surrounded some of the elevated area as well. In some imitation of an imperial complex, there were railings surrounding the outer edges that didn’t have walls, as well as plain doorways and empty windows. There didn’t seem to be any ladders or steps on this side.

 

Solus shook his head. He didn’t have the patience to go looking for a ramp on the other side. Instead, he measured up a nearby column next to the elevated area, and hatched an idea. Taking a running leap, Solus planted a foot on the column, and pushed off towards the elevated area. Still too low, to reach the ledge, Solus repeated the step and planted a foot and pushed back towards the column. This continued a few more times, leaping back and forth from wall to column to wall until his fingers gripped a solid ledge to climb upwards onto.

 

Solus stopped, dangling. With a quick focus, Solus casted his envy above him. The area was empty, but Solus cursed silently. Inside the first room past a doorway a Gungan stood, seemingly inspecting the room quietly. And above him was a floating sensor, no doubt one of the holocameras Akheron had mentioned. From the quick glance, Solus gathered that it  had been rigged to screech at the first sign of intrusion. How the Gungan hadn’t set it off was a wonder. 

 

Solus casted his envy further in. The entire area was a maze of tight corridors and walls and ceilings, with holocams secured randomly everywhere. 

 

Solus drew his lines of envy back, pulled himself up onto the ledge, and pressed himself near the doorway. He could hear the Gungan from here, muttering something about how he would murder the next person he saw. 

 

Solus focused himself again and tapped into the Impossible Geometries. The Gungan was easy to see. A conglomeration of annoyance and nervousness. His shapes were drifting backwards and forwards slowly, but spinning with life. However, he wasn’t the object of focus. 

 

Master said to use the darkness… Solus thought silently, as the lines of envy circled and clouds of anger swirled around the liquid-esque forms of electricity that was the holocamera. Seems like anger and darkness are synonymous for you master…they don’t call you the Lord of Rage for nothing.

 

Solus clenched his hand suddenly. The clouds of anger in the Impossible Geometries sparked and shook violently, as his own shard tinged black momentarily. While he couldn’t see the effect, Solus knew the result. Without hesitation, Solus came around the corner. His memory fashed to how Tear would kill someone. How the hound’s teeth would go for the throat. So too would his hands go for the gungan’s throat. 

 

With full force, the shard moved the Gungan out of the room, stopping short of crashing into a wall. The Gungan tried to gasp as its windpipe was crushed and lifted upwards. Not satisfied, Solus tightened both hands until he felt the soundless crunch and the body going limp. 

 

Gently, the Shard laid the body back down and mused over this, almost shaking with excitement. It was so much better then just cutting someone down. To feel their life actually disappear… No wonder Tear seemed to enjoy killing with his teeth. Or was that just instinct?  

 

Either way, no time to wait. 

 

For what felt like an hour, Solus moved from room to room. Quietly, and pausing at each corner, Solus had to refocus and use his Force Sight to make sure the next room wasn’t trapped. A few had cameras. Some had tripwires. Others even had a few Gungans. But each time, either his Master’s lesson, or the Shard’s determination, were more then enough. 

 

During all this, Solus felt one thing rising in him. A sense of accomplishment, and pride. He was finally proving to his master that faith in the Shard wasn’t misplaced. 

Finally, Solus found the stairs to what was the roof. Creeping along them slowly, hands resting on each step giving him the appearance of some kind of metal animal, Solus peered around and froze. The Acklay was standing over what looked like a mound of bodies, dissected and partially eaten. Smaller then the last one, this Acklay was still fearsome to behold. 

 

Had Solus been an organic, he would’ve swallowed a lump in his throat, knowing what he needed to do. This training was about stealth and silence. This would test its extreme. 

 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Solus began his way towards the Acklay. Each step was carefully planned and plotted, avoiding bits of blood and bone. When the Acklay breathed in, or snapped a piece of meat, Solus took another step, freezing once the monster became quiet. When the Acklay stopped and listened, so did the Shard, freezing in place. At times it took minutes before the beast moved, and in turn Solus had to remain still just as long.

 

Each sound felt magnified. Solus felt his own power circuits wanting to thrum with the electricity built up, but his batteries needed to run on the lowest setting possible. His very shard wanted to scream out in anticipation. But more then that, he wanted to keep proving his master that he, Solus the Dragon, was worthy of his title. 

 

Finally, Solus was crouching underneath the Acklay’s belly. Each wrinkle in its leathery skin was for inspection if Solus desired. Slowly, Solus raised the lightsabers handle and brought it up. Each breath the Acklay took, its stomach went up and down, and Solus attempted to match it. If his master wanted silence, he would give silence. Now, just an inch more. An inch and the handle would touch…

 

Solus activated the blade and plunged the handle into the Acklay. The spider-like thing screeched, but it was too late to fight back. Being too big, the blade didn’t even pierce the Acklays top, but all of the organs inside were vulnerable for the sizzling energy Solus’ weapon provided. 

 

In a swift motion, Solus deactivated the blade and caught the falling monstrosity with both hands. Slowly, almost buckling at the knees, Solus laid the monster down, now dead from its lethal wounds. 

 

One more to go. Solus thought to himself, taking a moment to rest.  
 

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Akheron spoke again as he observed the next scenes of carnage, as the silence soon turned to death as darkness enveloped Solus gungan and Acklay victims. All souls sacrificed to the Fanged God in the name of the Dark Lady. The last moments of pain and suffering felt delightful in the Force as their gasps fed the Darkness and in turn the two Sith in the room. 

 

 "Impressive my apprentice, most impressive. However there is a far easier way with which to gain such heights. Just as the Darkness allows us to Push or Pull victims, so too can it be manipulated to jump, in a timed Force Jump also known as a Force Leap, which when used and implemented correctly may allow you to use the Force to augment your natural leaping ability. Force-users adept in this technique are capable of  awe-inspiring vertical/horizontal leaps with impunity, even during combat where it may used to dodged what could be a lethal blow via leaping over your enemy out of range as to allow time to plan your next strike. 

 

Another ability which likewise may be used in combat and which augments, a ability which can work in combination with a Force Jump with practice, to further boost your height is that if Force Speed. Force speed, is also known as Burst Of Speed or a Force Sprint is a power that allows us to maintain sprinting speeds for a brief time. Greater aptitude and further training with it grants greater boosts to speed and or greater duration. The increased speed enables those touched by the Force, individuals like us, to perceive and react to the world and the entities around us in slow motion, allowing us to dodge attacks more easily and attack more quickly with greater accuracy in unarmed or armed combat with or without a lightsaber. But there is a cost. Prolonged and overextended use will have a draining effect upon your energy and metabolism, one that requires a longer recovery period and as such should be used sparingly. To use this you must focus the Darkness, use the Force to augment your muscles, especially in your legs and arms and focus that energy to increase the speed of you movements, heightening your reflexes and increasing the speed of blocks and blows during engagements. 

 

For your current task, you will be required to make use of it for your next challenge along with that of a Force Jump. In the last section, you will need all your newfound skills to reach the end. Continue on my apprentice, I feel we are nearing our destination. The Darkness tells me so, can you feel it? Aaris III approaches. But do not let such a distraction disway you from your task.  Complete your current test and we shall continue below...I'm certain Lord Inmortos will have adequate training facilities."

 

((Note: Next post will be on Aaris III.))

 
Edited by Karys Narat iv-Adas
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"The universe started in darkness at a time when light didn't exist, and that is how it will end. Chaos and suffering is what brings us together. In chaos a man or woman will show who he or she really is and in suffering they will speak the truth. We are darkness incarnate, we are the evil. This cannot be denied, even by me. But without us there is no redemption, passion or order." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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  • 3 months later...

A bead of sweat dripped down the human’s forehead as plasma torch busily worked on the chassis before him. Stitch-Mouth didn’t bother wiping his forehead. Such bothers were long forgotten by hours and hours of training with the Sorcerers of Bragsanu. Hours that included surviving days without liquid intake, painful scarring during meditation rituals, combat practices under a black moon, and, of course, the sealing of his mouth. 

 

Stitch-Mouth eventually indulged himself and opened a small fatty flap on his neck, revealing a socketed hole. Taking a clear tube from his belt, he connected the hole to a water canteen at his side and took a drink. Around him, nameless, titleless servants looked away disgusted as they handed over the parts they could find. 

 

The human looked them over and selected which ones, much like a studied surgeon would choose an organ replacement. None of them were in prime condition, but that couldn’t be helped.  With the destruction that had occurred, and the loss of so much at Nar Shaddaa, choicest parts would be harder to come by. 

 

Still, he made do. The parts were salvaged from an assortment of machines and parts, but the main chassis body and head came from one model: An uppity EV-Management droid, who’s pain antics, while amusing to the Linnorms for a while, had gotten out of hand. Its legs had been destroyed, so the Sith Alchemist had to replace them with the remains of a K4 security droid. Solid, a little heavy, but dependable. 

 

True, it wouldn’t be like the Shard’s old chassis, but perhaps upgrades could be added later. The true art to droid’s after all, was that their bodies could be changed with a little time and energy on a whim. Not like organic bodies that required continual work over and over and over again until it literally learned what it was supposed to be. With the EV-series being especially adaptable, Stitch-Mouth knew upgrades would be in the future. Who knew, maybe some extra appendages would help the Shard out.  

 

Stitch-Mouth looked at the shard on his work desk. It was still screaming. Its lines of thought had become a jumbled storm of dashes screeching wildly between invisible points.  Though Stitch-Mouth’s human ears couldn’t hear it, the Shard’s voice rippled on the force. Pain wracked its brain and, for lack of a better term, body. And there was something else. Something that would be much harder to cure. 

 

Hours later, the time for testing came. The alchemist carefully placed the Shard into the EV droid’s head. The wires were a bit trickier than the droid model the sorcerors had made back on Faleen. Thankfully, the Shard’s oldest chassis, the Hutt Security droid, was an easy study and provided Stitch-Mouth all the information needed for making more chassis for Shards. 

 

The head powered up, its eyes flickering to life. At first, it looked like everything was normal. 

 

Then it screamed and flailed its limbs around wildly like a possessed madman. One nearby soul was bashed away, a blow to the head that would prove fatal. 

Without missing a beat, Stitch-Mouth clicked the remote in his hands. On cue, the restraining bolt on the Shard’s new chest activated. An electric jolt flooded the shard’s systems, purging its control. This was followed by shutting the chassis down and back up. The screech occurred again like a soul taking a breath, followed by another click from the remote. The others around flinched and looked in morbid curiosity. No doubt, this was a painful experience for the crystal inside, being brought to and from consciousness on command with a complement of electrical shock.

 

Still, Stitch-Mouth was more than just an over-glorified mechanic. He was an alchemist, and the Sith required more than a share of knowing how brains worked. 

Stitch-Mouth clicked the remote again and again, running his own tests on the chassis, while instructing the others to various tasks via datapad. Each time The arms needed to be removed and the legs needed to be shut off to prevent self-damage.  This would be a very long process.  

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For the hours since the duel with the young Imperial Knight, Darth Akheron had been sitting in a badge tank, healing his wounds from the battle, or those that could be. The rest was now heavily scarred over, a side effect of one of the abilities he had used to help sustain himself during the bout. His prosthetic leg and and had since been repaired, allowing him free movement when he arose.

 

It was the nearby screams of his apprentice, just opposite that first roused him from his trance inside the bacta tank. Lifting his eyes, he could see repairs taking shape, even as he himself was released from the wet healing prison he had been placed in. Putting the some temporary armor, he took the set he had been wearing and placed them close to Solus. Picking up a hammer and lighting a fire he got to work. He would keep an eye while repairing and talk should he awaken. 

 

Bashing the first sent out, he picked up a couple of pieces of Sith Steel, putting them in the fire, he brought them to a anvil and hammered away. If Solus could see anything, he would catch his master at work. A rare sight...to see the Sith Warrior fixing his armour in plain sight. However it was necessary, there was not much space remaining after taking survivors from the destroyed ships. Overlapping the layers, he made it strong but flexible. Matching his needs. Soon enough and it was new again, matching his last. 

 

Walking to Solus, he decided to help. Motioning to Stitch-Mouth, he chose what he thought might be useful to the young Sith Assassin and welding it in place, servos for heightened agility and stealth, harder Sith Steel outer layers, overlapped to resist lightsaber strikes. Next time he would not be so easily defeated, he would make certain of it as best he was able. He would be given the tools, but it was for him to make use of them.

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"The universe started in darkness at a time when light didn't exist, and that is how it will end. Chaos and suffering is what brings us together. In chaos a man or woman will show who he or she really is and in suffering they will speak the truth. We are darkness incarnate, we are the evil. This cannot be denied, even by me. But without us there is no redemption, passion or order." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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Stitch-Mouth said nothing as the Sith Lord joined in first repairing his own armor and then helping attend to the Shard’s treatment, but did give either a grateful or simply respectful nod. The work continued, the alchemist remained in charge of the Shard’s bolt. 

 

After an hour of work and numerous restarts, Solus’ screams had turned to words. Brief phrases more than complete sentences, and while Stitch-Mouth was forced to cut off the Shard many times, there was an air of hope for recovery. 

 

“The blood runs upwards! Blood runs upwards and the skies fall dow-” 

 

Stitch-Mouth clicked the remote and started again.

 

“The vines, like wires and veins! The vines, like wires and veins! Burn them all! Burn them…”

 

Stitch-Mouth clicked the remote and started again.

 

“The dragon awakes, the tree crushes its scales! The dragon awakes, the tree crushes its-”

 

Stitch-Mouth clicked the remote and started again.

 

“Let the galaxy burn! Let it burn and let me kill it with my hunger for vengea-”

 

Stitch-Mouth clicked the remote and started again.

 

“Darkness within light! Light within darkness! The teeth open between. The teeth open be-”

 

Again, Stitch-Mouth clicked the remote and started again.

 

The process took another hour. The screaming and ranting echoed everywhere, with the Force infused into each syllable. But eventually it quieted down.

 

Finally, Solus awoke without screaming or ranting. The shard looked around almost as if it was in a daze, recollecting itself, analyzing it’s surroundings. 

 

“Master…” Solus voiced, raising its arms up slowly to study them. They were much different from what the shard had before. Where the previous arms were like actual humanoid arms, these were more like metal rods with hands. 

 

“How…how long was I out master? It feels like years, yet nothing has changed. How many decades have passed? No, wait, maybe I don't want to know…”

 

Solus’ new head looked at Akheron, gold sensors looking over the Sith. Behind the sensors the slight glow of the shard’s crystalline form could be seen. 

 

“What has happened, master?”

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As his apprentice screamed and yelled, his words at first a garbled mess, Akheron looked on seemingly lacking any emotion, and yet within he hoped his apprentice survived. For despite their many differences and missteps, he had found a kinship with the Shard over the last month's he had spent training him. In many says he reminded him of himself when he was younger.

 

Eventually the Shard sounded and moved as he had before his destruction. Albeit now he had a different look, temporary as it was. As his apprentice spoke, Akheron considered his answer carefully before replying.

 

 "You arise at last my apprentice, we almost thought you were lost to the Fanged God. It has not been that long, only a mere few hours since I last saw you, however it appears you suffered as I did. Albeit you more than I. We both have made a personal sacrifice to achieve the victory the Fanged God required as did all of Clan Brasganu. For we suffered many losses and were forced to regroup, but we did our part. And yet there is never a victory without first great sacrifice, some more than others.

 

We must see this a with all Sith, as is our way. For even when we are broken, we become stronger in our rebirth. With every defeat, we learn and adapt. Such as we must do now, although we have suffered greatly, the Clan shall be reborn just as we shall. Stronger than ever, having learnt from our mistakes. Remember what you saw, what you felt, your mistakes and your successes....for every moment is one to learn from. Your enemy may have thought he destroyed you, but now you must prove that was their error, in letting you continue to live. Now the galaxy will suffer our Wrath upon our return and we shall avenge the dead and our suffering. This is not the end, it is only the beginning.

 

And you have passed another test, when your loyalty was questioned. You remained steadfast, and resisted temptation, it will not be forgotten. Come, arise if you are able. We have much work to do in rebuilding into what we once was and in completing your training. Once you have a more permanent body, we shall continue...starting with lightsaber training, we have had little time to prepare you for your first bout...a mistake I shall not repeat. Next time you shall be more prepared."

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"The universe started in darkness at a time when light didn't exist, and that is how it will end. Chaos and suffering is what brings us together. In chaos a man or woman will show who he or she really is and in suffering they will speak the truth. We are darkness incarnate, we are the evil. This cannot be denied, even by me. But without us there is no redemption, passion or order." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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At the words that time had only passed a few hours, Solus went silent and still. Then he started banging his newly installed head with his arms, the metal clanking loudly. Stitch-Mouth even flinched and almost pressed the shut-off remote. 

 

“A few hours?!? That felt like an age. Two ages! Only a few hours? Impossi…” 

 

Solus quieted himself, remembering who he was talking to and continued to listen. 

 

After his master was done, Solus nodded and looked over his body and attempted to get up. It was like learning to walk all over again. The joints creaked and shook at first, evidence of their age and use. The metals that Akheron and Stitch-Mouth had used in fixing them however proved their use, as the body slowly stood up and stumbled a few steps forward. 

 

“That…tree thing…” Solus uttered as he took another step. “Definitely will pay. His aura…his presence in the Force was unique, and my envy gave me power. But not enough. Not enough….”

 

“Enough…enough” Solus head repeated the word a few times, softer and slightly distorted with static. 

 

As Solus stopped  talked, his voice box chittered and repeated the last word, like an echo in the circuitry. The Sith alchemist raised an eyebrow, but assured the others it was nothing to worry about. Where wounds on an organic would be physically visible, it appeared the ones Solus had would be more vocal. Echoes and all. 

 

“I definitely have more learning to do, master. That tree thing will pay, or my name isn’t the Drago- ach!”

 

“Aaaaaach!!!” The echo shrieked as Solus stumbled over and into a batch of wires and circuitry. In a sudden panic, Solus shrieked again as he flailed. However, he quickly stopped, a chassis amongst droid parts, growling slightly.  

 

“Stupid…gah! Stupid me, just some wires. Like that viny thing was here. No no, just some wires...”

 

“Some wires” 

 

Solus gestured towards Stitch-Mouth violently. The alchemist nodded and handled over the still working lightsaber. It was a wonder the thing had not been damaged during the entire encounter on Nar Shaddaa. Solus held it carefully in one of his appendages and stumbled after his master, his steps becoming more and more sure as he became familiar with his new body. 

 

“Tell me master, I must ask, where are we heading to next? Back to Falleen? Or perhaps back to Korriban? After all, I’m sure the Sith won’t take this defeat lying down…”

 

“Lying down…” 

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Akheron listened, even as he heard the Shard echo as he spoke. Although strange at first, he quickly realised this was a side effect of his injuries substained, ones unlikely to be able too be fixed. Perhaps permanent markers, at least in his current form. When asked where they were headed he answered calmly.

 

 "Hmm...It seems you suffering some side effects of your bout, ones we were unable to fix. No matter, it is a small price to pay for our service to the Fanged God. We have been provided by Krath Inmortos, we shall rendezvous at what remains of Coruscant, as a planet racked by shifting tectonic activity, ruined cityscapes, deserts and a Dark presence in the force, we shall blend in and use the opportunity to train. The harsh environment will be a ideal testing ground. And a ideal location to recruit where possible using the outcasts and those abandoned during the moon's falling."

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"The universe started in darkness at a time when light didn't exist, and that is how it will end. Chaos and suffering is what brings us together. In chaos a man or woman will show who he or she really is and in suffering they will speak the truth. We are darkness incarnate, we are the evil. This cannot be denied, even by me. But without us there is no redemption, passion or order." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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Solus seemed to listen his his master's words, nodding at them. However, his sensors seemed to drift, glancing about instead of just looking at Akheron. The shadows on the ship seemed to draw his attention occasionally, and the random noises of the ship running its usual procedures. Still, like a child, his focus came back over and over to Akheron.

 

“I recall reading about Coruscant…” Solus started. “It had a moon crash into it. I once had a vision of that long ago, before my ascension.  Back before…”

 

Solus stopped, only the sound of his echo following his words. The memory that flooded his being needed to be squashed quickly. 

 

“I think I learned from my battle with that son of a stump…” Solus changed the subject as the two continued down a hallway. “I let my emotions control me too much. I charged when i should’ve fled. I knew he was powerful, and grew upset when he didn’t fall for my traps. I hope you are not too disappointed with my loss master.” 

 

“Master…” the echo continued, lingering in the air.

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Akheron nodded as he listened, he too had suffered such a vision long ago. One of many such involuntary visions in his lifetime, a gift of curse of the Darkness he didn't know. Only that they were random at best, perhaps one day he would find why but not yet. Continuing to listen, he understood and held no disappointment, at least not much. For he too had suffered a similar rate and learnt a lesson or two. 

 

He spoke.

 

 "I see then you like me are gifted or cursed, I do not know of the ability to see visions, of the future some say, it is a rare ability of the Force. One that is usually involuntary like we have suffered. I do not know the reason for them only that they occur randomly, months or years apart sometimes. One day perhaps we shall both find a answer to that particular riddle, but for now let us focus on Coruscant.

 

I am not disappointed, not as much as you may think my apprentice. It is good you have learnt from your experience...To balance between the veil of life and death, to come back the stronger for it. Remember that for every mistake, as a Sith we learn, we grow and adapt. We turn our weaknesses into our strength, reborn anew from each encounter and battle. Broken and remade. I too have learnt a lesson or two today, I underestimated my opponent, much like yourself, a mistake I shall not repeat.

 

Come, we shall use this opportunity. Coruscant shall provide us plenty of opportunities to teach you how to better survive should you encounter your new rival...yes use him as a focus of your hate. In that you will also grow the stronger, closer to the Darkness and the Fanged God. Once there we shall begin your proper introduction to the arts of the lightsaber, to become one with it and the Darkness the Fanged God provided while in battle."

 

 with that, Akheron turned to the view screen as they came to the planet. Coruscant awaited.

 

((Next post be on Coruscant, although I think Inmortos is posting first.))

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

Akheron.jpg

 

"The universe started in darkness at a time when light didn't exist, and that is how it will end. Chaos and suffering is what brings us together. In chaos a man or woman will show who he or she really is and in suffering they will speak the truth. We are darkness incarnate, we are the evil. This cannot be denied, even by me. But without us there is no redemption, passion or order." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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  • 1 month later...

The whir and hum as the fascist slayer named ship jumped to hyperspace was almost hypnotic. “You can almost feel it in your bones on these smaller ships.” Steve remarked as he gingerly propped himself against the bulkhead and used an edge of his armored finger to scrape at a stubborn bit of carbon scoring on the barrel of his cool carbine. “Its almost like the waves of fate drawing us forward. Nothing can stop it.”

 

Rags slapped the top of his helmet where it sat nestled between his thighs on the floor. “C’mon man,” he cried with a chuckle shaking his head. “What sort of Krong is that Steve?! Going off about fate while you polish your gun.”

 

“Fate, heh.” Christoph rolled his eyes with a smile. “I’ll tell you what fate is buddy.” He jabbed a finger towards the unseen hyperdrive reactor humming away. “Fate is one hiccup in that things power coils, one piece of dust karking things up and BAM! There is your fate splattering us across the next six systems.” He shook his head and chuckled as he looked at the deck, “We make our own fate man.” He looked up and winked, “With a little planning and a lot of luck.” His toothy grin was relaxing as he sat there his legs sprawled outwards from him in the floor.

 

”Nothing can stop us.” Steve retorted, his face still serious. His red eyes burrowed like spears as he regarded the other two. “So maybe we are fate.”

 

Rags beat a thump thumpity thump thump on his helmet as he laughed. “Nah. I’ll tell you what fate is. This ain’t it. This is Imperial Intelligence. They’re the ones who decide the fate of the universe. We just act as it’s feet, running and gunning.”

 

”Geez you two!” Christoph’s eyes got big as he looked from one to the other. “Getting a bit deep in here. Like we’re the holy hand of God or something. We’re the good guys. We do good stuff. Make our own fate.” He pulled a canteen from his pack and after uncorking it took a long draw before passing it to Steve who eyeballed it for a long moment before letting his weapon hang limp, taking the canteen and sniffing it, his face twisting in disgust. 


“Yuck!” The Chiss gagged. “What is this drudge?”

 

Both Christoph and Rags rolled back as they guffawed. “Only the finest! You know that.” Rags chortled.

 

”Gotta love me some of that homemade Zabrakian mus!” Christoph smiled.

 

______________________
 

Benjamin stood in the doorway of the cockpit watching Sophia work. “Good thing you’re a decent pilot. Getting us past the blockade was a tricky bit of flying.” Of course, Gunnery Sergeant Benjamin Wood was a lot of things, but a space-faring pilot was not one of them. Still, he knew talent when he saw it.

 

Cautiously he slid himself into the copilots chair, his white Imperial armor clicking as he moved. “Guess it is a good thing you’re not as slick a thief as you are a pilot. Good thing for us that is.” His angular chiseled face, creased into a bit of a smirk. “I suppose Intel has had their eyes on you for a while. You ever worked with them before?” He asked, but he did not wait for an answer as he settled into his well worn seat. “It is not the cleanest work at times, but it gets the job done when there is too much red tape tying karking things up. Just gotta make sure you keep your head on your shoulders and follow your heart. Otherwise you get swallowed by the machine. You steal stuff from the so-called good guys often? What about the Sithies?” Benjamin offered a wider smile and a wink. “Don’t worry. I ain’t no snitch. We all gotta eat, take care of our families.” Gingerly, the Scout kicked the barely extruding grip of Moriarty’s blaster. “The trick is doing it without blasting anyone that don’t deserve it.” 
 

@DoctorOblivious

Trill_Scout_Squadron.jpg

Benjamin Wood

Ragnar Kran
Christoph Sokol

Krilst’eve’nuruodo

 

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The idle, quiet hours were always the worst. Sophia had spent much of her adult life on Coruscant, a planet that never seemed to get some proper sleep. It had banished the stars from its night sky with light pollution and replaced them with skyhook satellites. There was a never-ending stream of speeder traffic, night-shift workers, and obnoxious music only meters away from her apartment. And not once, not ever, had Sophia spent any of those non-existent quiet hours trying to distract herself from the fact that she was likely to be dead at the end of the day.

 

Sophia cast a thoughtful glance at the dome of her helmet. Blue lights flickered in the T-visor as the glow of hyperspace swirled past them. Reaching past her console, she retrieved a coarse cleaning rag and a bottle of solvent.

 

She idly wiped at the dust smudges on the visor; first the inside of the helmet, where her dried sweat and the dust of Coruscant had conspired to create a smelly, thin layer of cement that tended to flake and sting the eyes. “No. I’m afraid I’m a little new to this. I’m a historian, not a spy. If the galaxy made any sense, I’d be sitting in a library right about now… or maybe writing up dossiers for your fleet intelligence if things got really interesting. But, then, as it happened, fracking Faust threw a moon at my home and destroyed nearly everything and everyone that I cared about, and all of my collections were scattered like dust or turned into dust. And then the fracking Mandalorians decided that the fracking ruins of my home made an abso-fracking-lutely lovely tourist spot.” Sophia took a deep breath. During her tirade, she had been wiping ever more vigorously at the interior of her helmet, causing an annoying squeaking sound that followed the cadence of her curses.

 

“Yes, I’m a just a little bit bothered about all of that. I couldn’t not get involved after all of that, and watching…”

 

It was obvious what Sophia was about to say about Nar Shaddaa, but Sophia never completed her sob story. At that moment, she sat upright like a kath hound hearing an ultrasonic whistle and the color drained from her face.

 

((@Trill Scout Squadron))

 

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  • 2 weeks later...

“Of course we have caf, I used to live on it and delivery food in uni. I’m ninety eight percent sure that our caf machines aren’t alchemically altered evil caf machines, but I can double check to be sure, Krath gonna Krath. Can we get some not evil caf for our guest?”

 

The Fair Lady of Iziz was making multiple jumps, both to prevent pursuit and to keep an eye on the galactic comm chatter. Governments that ruled by strength tended to collapse quickly when that strength was challenged and found wanting, so the implosion of the Sith Empire would be upon them rapidly. It was for the best, the supremacy of the Sith had become a numbing poison, slowing their hearts and miring their ambitions in complacency and entitlement. The Fair Lady would not be joining the other Sith at Ziost, those that had become dependent on the Empire’s succor would see her as a traitor, and killing every uppity motherpfasker on Ziost sounded tiresome. Not to mention the crew that served on the ship, who might be considered guilty by association, she had grown close to them through times of battle and the silent pauses in between. Even though she knew that they would lay down their lives for her, it was not something that she would ask of them idly, or dismiss as an expected outcome.

 

“My Lady, we’re getting liquidation orders for a number of sites, including Kamino. Should we maintain heading?” the comms officer queried. Nyrys sighed in frustration. Sometimes the Sith were like puppies, except instead of just chewing and pissing on everything, there was also constant self destructive behavior and painting everything black and red.

 

“No, tight beam them a message that I am coming and that they are to cease liquidation. And if they argue, tell them that it’s not an order, but a prophecy that I will fulfill with violent wrath if they go against my will.”

 

 Darth Nyrys turned to the Grandmaster, “My father, the Dark Lord Dagon, kept what notes that he didn’t trust putting on the Sith archives in a hidden lab on Kamino, including his notes on Nhagathul. The Dark City has been expanding rapidly beyond what we used to think its boundaries were, and is showing no sign of slowing down. Dad was tracking it but gave up any kind of combined effort after some sort of betrayal during the battle of the grand death star. I don’t know the details, for me he was just another dorky dad like anyone else’s parents, I didn’t even know that he was a Dark Lord until halfway through my own training. Did you ever meet him?”  

NYRYS.png

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The breathing exercise continued, with the rise of Draygo’s shoulders following a steady cadence. It was that of a basic meditation pattern. It only took a glance at the other’s face to know that she and the previous Dark Lord could not have possibly met–the Sith species was exceptionally rare in the galaxy and this Dark Lord was the first of her kind that Draygo had ever met. Still, there was a possibility of some remote connection between the rivals if intelligence reports after the climax of the last war could be believed…

 

“No Empress. Only tangentially, through his creations. I suspected that he was the one who worked out extending a hyperdrive field around an entire planet, but that must have had drastic aftereffects…”

 

Indeed, the climax of the last war was marked by a drastic advance in capabilities in hyperdrives and artificial intelligence–some of the latter was the contribution of the Jedi Grandmaster. The intellectual exercise helped distance her mind from the revulsions that shuddered through The Force… but her hands were still shaking from the persisting surge of adrenaline.

 

That was made evident when one of the bridge aides raced back, filling the air with the reassuring scent of navy-strength caf: excessively strong, excessively hot, dense as hydraulic fluid and just as essential to the function of a warship. The shaking of her hands caused it to spill the moment it was passed to her. Draygo just squinted at her right hand as though she was warning a misbehaving child of unfortunate events to come when their father got home.

 

“This has connection to a previous incident–an abattoir of a droid freighter that landed at Onderon around that battle, doesn’t it? Your father–he took independent action after the Death Star, didn’t he?”

 

drayyy.png

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  • 1 month later...

Armiena frowned and took a test sip of the steaming mug of caf. As she had hoped, it was brewed strong enough to stand a spork into: powerfully bitter, scalding, and so powerfully caffeinated that it probably qualified as a controlled substance in certain prudish star systems. For the Jedi Grandmaster, this kind of brew was comfort food–comfort liquid, more accurately, the end result of having sublimated a self-destructive addiction to something… less self-destructive. It energized the spirit and soothed the nerves, even if a warding edge in The Force was alerting her to the fact that this moment of urgency had not yet ended.

 

Her eyes flitted away from the steam of her beverage, towards the military-relaxed postures of the Dark Lord’s guards, then the twin lightsabers that lay discarded by the Sith’s throne, and then finally the tactical pits and the light of hyperspace just beyond. The eerie glow of hyperspace was muted by a shroud that had been lowered over the bridge canopy, but it was apparent that something was not entirely… ordinary in the rush of that azure tunnel. There was a flicker in its glow, a pattern in a stream that should have been unpredictable… a sudden reduction in the twist of its dizzying corkscrew.

 

Something was very, very wrong.

 

Hyperspace anomaly!” Came an excited cry from the tactical pits before military discipline reduced the voice to an urgent and orderly recitation of the malfunctions. “Backup drive not responding, emergency cutoffs engaged… brace for reversion in five, four, three, two, one…”

 

Despite the fact that the Fair Lady was traveling across the galaxy at a velocity of many lightyears per hour, the physical velocity of its hull and its passengers was minimal. That was about to change with the semi-controlled reversion from hyperspace into an unknown sector of interstellar space: the entire hull would suddenly accelerate and then decelerate, potentially turning every unsecured starfighter, vehicle, inanimate object, and person on the ship into a dangerous projectile. Every sapient on the bridge would have been drilled to rush to a restraint chair, or to wedge themselves into a doorframe, or even to simply drop prone and hope that they didn’t impact anything too sharp upon reversion. 

 

Draygo just blinked, reached out with one hand, and jumped. It wasn’t a great leap intended to carry her a great distance. It vaguely resembled a playful hop that a small child would have made in an attempt at touching a ceiling that was just barely out of reach.

 

The sudden acceleration of the deckplates under her feet was more than sufficient to carry her away from the bridge, across nearly a third of the length of the Lady, and tumbling along the floor in a heap of armor and battered limbs. Two lightsabers were bouncing along the deckplates like a pair of excited, clumsy puppies that were determinedly bouncing along after their master, clattering and clanking against the deck until they impacted against Draygo’s thigh. The Jedi collected herself with a painful groan, clipping her belt to her waist.

 

Barely more than thirty meters away, in a hangar that had been vacated in preparation for the hyperspace reversion, stood an unguarded Lambda-class shuttle. The hangar crew wasn’t even in a position to contest her departure; barely breaking her stride, Armiena simply walked on board and raised the boarding ramp behind her. Settling in at the cockpit, a quick preflight check found that the shuttle was effectively operating on fumes–just barely enough fuel remained to make a single hyperspace jump. Only one matter remained before take-off: her astromech droid. Bebop would have been more than one hundred meters, dozens of armed marines, and a Sith Lord away–an impossible distance for an unarmed astromech.

 

The droid would have the coordinates for a half-dozen Jedi outposts and her contact frequencies within its memory. That information was already known to the Sith Order or an acceptable loss. It would have to be left behind.


Upon liftoff and emergence from the hangar, the sensors revealed the cause of the emergency hyperspace reversion. A previously-unknown icey exoplanet, drifting in solitude across the great distances between the stars, had strayed into the cruiser’s hyperspace route. It was a freak accident that couldn’t have been predicted… and one that would be repaired in seconds. With a break across the Fair Lady’s spine and a minute of uncontested flight, her shuttle had escaped into hyperspace and onto a course that would carry her to the Jedi Order.

drayyy.png

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  • 2 weeks later...

Amidst the darkness of space, two small vessels sat in wait, open comm channels between both ships. Tros stood in the cockpit of Pursuer-class frigate called Swift Justice. Alongside him stood Kot'dral and Gronn in the pilot's chair. It was his own personal ship, but at this point he almost rarely used it outside of taking groups of his clan into war zones. There was nothing but silence for the longest time until Kot'dral broke it. "No offense, but this is mirshepar'la." Turning his head to look at his better half, his own response was not quick enough to beat Kami, who was onboard the Trident, the YX-1980 transport next to Swift Justice. "Would you like to play a form of cu'bikad or get'shuk?" Gronn offered up a laugh at the suggestion on the comm. 

 

"No one said said this would be exciting. Remember, we're here to let Clan Larkin take both ships to Nar Shaddaa to retrieve the buy'ce of Terra, while we are meeting with Avao for the new ship to take to meet with the Sith."  His words ended the chatter. He didn't care for the back and forth banter. While he knew it helped increase the relationships between the new clans and old ones, it wasn't something that was needed at this moment. The silence though that followed for a moment was indeed awkward, even he had to admit. Luckily, Kami was always willing to break such awkwardness. "I heard Avao was going to let you name to new beauty... any ideas Mand'alor?"

 

He had to think for a moment. He wasn't sure at all. He felt like maybe he would know it when he saw it. But there was no guarantee that would even happen. After a very long pause, he lifted his head and looked at Kot'dral. "I'm not sure. I think I would need to see her before I could name her." "Well, here's your chance, she's coming in off your starboard side." Tros then turned his head, and he could in fact see her. The design of the ship was old, yet anyone could tell by looking at her that she was in fact new. Updated weapons and hull, along with a clearly visible white paint streak across her front. "Osi'kyr! That brings back some glory days type of tales..." Even as he finished saying it, the images of the old battles on holodisplay at Keldabe fashed heavily within his mind. The entire party was silent for a moment until the comms buzzed before receiving transmissions. 

 

"This is Crusader-class corvette Unnamed on approach. We have both Swift Justice and Trident on radar. How do you want us to pick you up? Old fashion style Mand'alor?" The voice belonged to Avao Skol. She was much softer spoken than all of those within Clan Vuuku, but she was the most shrewd of them all and the most blunt. If there ever was a reason to bring the power smith out of doing forging, one would be either grateful or in sheer terror of her, depending entirely on whether she was there to help or attack you. "We'll open the doors here for Kami and others to take over piloting Swift Justice. The rest of us will board old fashion style to you Avao." 

 

There was no other words offered, as Kot'dral immediately turned and got his mean ready for departure in the main hold. Tros went to follow, but Gronn almost punched him to get his attention. "Sir, I'd like to stay and pilot her... She's kind of become akin to me I feel." He looked at him for a second, almost bewildered. But then he slowly observed the whole cockpit of his own ship. He realized just now how much of it was altered slightly from when he first got it. He didn't alter any of it. Letting out a sigh that was held in, and one that almost sounded like defeat, he spoke quietly. "I guess she is more attuned to you right now than me. If you really feel that way, keep her in good condition. She is still mine after all..." Gronn gave a smile, the only one who didn't have his buy'ce on. "I'll do better than that. She'll be better by the time you fly in her again." Tros tilted his head as he slowly left the cockpit. He truly hadn't been piloting her since forging House Solus. Now that he was Mand'alor, he would most likely always be on a capital size ship versus on his baby girl. 

 

Walking out of the cockpit, the door shut behind him. Kot'dral signaled with his hands for him to seal his suit. He quickly did, just in time for the landing ramp to open, allowing the loud and sudden pull of the vacuum of space to fill the main hold. It took a good six seconds before Kot'dral went first, leading the others out of the Swift Justice and into space, where they would head for the main hold of the Crusader-class corvette. Tros was the last one out, only to barely miss Kami as she and another swooped into the main hold of Swift Justice. He gave her a quick salute as she did the same thing before he turned and followed the rest of the Zealots onboard the new ship. The movement in space was something he had done before, but it had been so long that it took a second to reposition himself to fully use the jetpack to get into the hangar. As he passed through the magnetic field, he shut down his jetpack, landing on the hard surface with a loud clanking sound. No sooner did he land that his ear picked up the transmission from Swift Justice and Trident that they were away. Unsealing his suit, he took off his buy'ce and addressed the Zealots. "Go and get familiar with the ship. Kot'dral and I will be on the bridge." He then used his head to signal to Kot'dral to follow him to the bridge. 


 

mirshepar'la : Boring

cu'bikad : Indoor game involving knives

get'shuk : A form of rugby

Osi'kyr : Strong exclamation of surprise

Tros_Sig_4.png

Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore.

 

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As a woman on Ziost raised her hand to the sky, a pulse rippled out through the Force. To the living energy field that bound the universe together, physical limitations were meaningless. Distance, speed, matter, nothing held back the burst of power that raced along those connections between all living things.

 

It was a clarion call, an echo of endless hate and savage triumph.

 

To the few mundane perceptive enough to notice, the ripple would feel like a brief moment of unease, the sense of something moving just out of the corner of their eye.

 

To the Force-sensitive able to observe that ephemeral energy, but unattuned to the idiosyncrasies of the Dark Side, it would seem like a wordless cry, faint but fierce.

 

But to those who allowed the Dark Side to flow through them, the call had meaning. Its message was not in words but in concepts and impressions, universal in understanding.

 

Darkness gathers

 

Ziost stands

 

A challenger waits

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  • 2 weeks later...

Tros slowly walked the bridge of the ship, taking in every part of it. It felt like something he had been on before, yet could not place it as to when or where. For now, he simply just walked as Avao talked over the specifics of the Crusader-class corvette. Most of the features of the corvette had been only slightly updated shielding and weaponry. He didn't care for the output, he already knew it would perform beyond what it was supposed to. As Avao wrapped up, he found himself settling down into the command chair. Almost as soon as he did, something stirred within him. His eyes locked onto something in space that couldn't be seen. 

 

"Mand'alor? Where to?" The words came from Kot'dral. Tros didn't even need to turn to acknowledge him. "I have something brewing within my heart. The planet Ziost compels me to it." He now turned, but not to Kot'dral, but instead towards Avao. "Do we have it in our systems?" "We can find it if we don't." He then turned to face the blackness of space that before them. "Then I shall make this official voyage of the Revenant. Crew, we have our heading." Avao smiled at the official name of the ship she delivered to her Mand'alor. Tros felt it appropriate. ANd beside that, he could feel an excitement within his heart building. The Mandalorians of House Solus would soon arrive at Ziost, ready for whatever...

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Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore.

 

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