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Naboo


RaveN

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Inmortos smiled wickedly as the warrior took the blade. It left a frosty air behind wherever it moved, sucking the energy from whatever it touched. “What is left may be harvested by your servants. What falls will be harvested by me. The wealth of a city is minimal compared to the wealth that this world offers. We will summon forth the darkness to the precipice, thinly veiled from reality. Once your harvest is complete, we will burst the bubble and darken this entire world.”

 

Looking to Solus, he added, “Brace yourself, the wave of death that is about to descend upon this deep Gungan fortress of solitude is enough to overwhelm the most seasoned. Battle, slaughter, mayhem are nothing compared to annihilation.”

 

Before he could continue, the Sith were interrupted by a shipwide comm from the bridge of icebound craft they found themselves on. “Masters, communication from topside. A Dr. Zylus is requesting the location of Krath Inmortos. Something to do with  . . . a contract? Please advise.” 


Inmortos paused his diatribe, his face twisting with surprise at the announcement. ‘What? How was he here? Why was he here?’

 

”Send him down.” the Krath spat aloud, his deathly voice dripping with contempt and annoyance at being interrupted. He would teach this mad scientist, but he needed the man alive, for now. He needed his mind and killing the clones seemed only to set him back, any new experiences or knowledge being reintroduced. “Hell forbid you ever become as useful to your master as this one is to me! He lacks the power to resurrect you when you sin!” Inmortos spat before turning back to Akheron, “I will join you at the city to partake of the slaughter; but first I must handle an unexpected variance. Perhaps one or two of your finer force-attuned specimens might be bought for their weight in jade. My associate desires their souls. With them, we might tear a hole to your dark god that rends the universe asunder.” He smiled evilly, his lips blue with cold;  dry and chapped. This may yet work to his advantage; but first, he would insure that Zylus watched, stood by his side as an entire city was sacrificed to draw forth the darkness of the beast.

 

The pilot relayed approximate coordinates and directions through the maze of the planet to their location within view of the pulsating core back to the surface. Hopefully it would not take long for Dr. Zylus to join him. In that time, Inmortos hoped that Akheron and Solus would begin the slaughter, churn the deep city of supposed safety into a ripe panic. He looked forward to the taste, garnished with hopelessness; followed by destruction and it’s stillness amongst the collapse of fire and ice.


He had but to wait.

Edited by Krath Inmortos

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Solus eyed the sword that Akheron received with curiosity. Even a non-force user could sense the power coming off the thing. The fact that Solus could see the heat dissipating around the blade only made it more unnerving. Solus wasn’t sure if he liked or feared this being known as Inmortos. His impression in the Impossible Geometries didn’t fit in correctly, but he was clearly powerful. 

 

 Then again, he was winning Akheron’s praise. Something that Solus deserved. 

 

 “Yes master” Simply stated as Akheron explained why things had to be done. If he had eyes, he would have turned away and focused on something else. However, since his vision literally gazed in every direction, he simply stood still and focused on the pilot of the sub behind him. 

 

Still, Solus couldn’t help but get a glint of glee at Inmortos’ obvious annoyance at the announcement of another being. It seemed that this being was easy to annoy. Very different from what Solus had seen with his own master. 

 

The entire sub shifted as I broke free from the ice that had formed earlier. Like a mynock,  the vessel glided through the darkness towards its target.

 

“Sirs, we are approaching the gungan city,” A Linnorm announced. 

 

Solus decided to feel the Impossible Geometries again, wanting to see what was coming up. What greeted his sensing interested him. Large bubbles hidden amongst the rocks, housing many, many life forms. 

 

“Hmmm, it seems that there aren't many defenses…” Solus commented. Solus found it much easier to feel the Gungan city now. His envy was much easier to conjure up, with Inmortos winning praise that Solus felt he was owed.  "No water vessels, no men lining outside the bubbles...

 

 The Linnorm nodded. “No doubt they rely on hiding to be their defense. And with their attack force they sent at us already, most of their warriors are probably hold up inside, waiting for us to strike.”

 

 Solus nodded, an odd sight since he was still facing the other Siths in the sub.

 

 “Still, we can expect lots of soldiers inside. It's possible that the very leaders of all the Gungans may be hiding here. I heard their head of state is an Ankura Gungan from these depths. An excellent chance for bloodshed” the Linnorm grinned sadistically. 

 

Solus shared the Linnorm's excitement. He wanted to kill something. Badly. 

 

“Master, may we ram into the city as quickly as possible? Allow us to use the element of forward momentum as an opening attack?” 
 

Edited by Solus

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Akheron considered first the words of Inmortos, as he explained his intentions for the falling world, a smile couldn't help but form. Their goals it appeared were intertwined, together they would rip the planet asunder from below just as it was being torn above the waters surface. Naboo would see no light but be engulfed in darkness bringing the will of the Fanged God forth.

 

"On that we agree, the wealth of this planet is great. There are many cities ripe to plunder, all shall topple like dominoes by the time we are done and the Fanged God shall be appeased. If a sacrifice or two is needed to bring the dark got ever closer, the Linnorms of Clan Brasganu will be all to happy to oblige this...associate of yours. I would be most interested to meet such a man, I am intrigued."

 

 Motioning to the sub pilot, he informed him to relay instructions that two force-sensitive volunteers were needed for a sacrifice that would bring they step closer to realizing the Fanged God's will and that these volunteers would be required to endure whatever happens to them. Victory required such sacrifices. The instructions were sent in addition to those Inmortos had given. 

 

Turning to Solus he spoke, overhearing the mention of a potentially larger target. A worthy sacrifice to burn just as the Falleen prince had burnt. 

 

 "It is possible such leaders or head of state could be there, if they are find them and bring them to me. They will burn for the glory of the Fanged God and their souls shall go to Krath Inmortos. Their suffering shall be eternal. As to your question, you may however as soon as we are inside, I want you to find the communications hub, destroy it. We shall cut the city off from reinforcements for as long as we can, cleanse the city of life. 

 

The first of many, I also want you to attempt to bring us a high ranking military member. No doubt they know where this so called 'Sacred Place' is located I have heard of, where the true leadership of the gungans are likely hiding. The so called Boss. We shall make this military member tell us all we need to know and then we shall add them to the tally. This task is of top importance....do not fail me."

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

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 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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Solus bowed slightly to his Master at his command. 

 

“Yes master. I will not fail you again”

 

Not that I failed you before master Solus backtalked silently.  With that he turned to the pilot of the sub. The Linnorm was young judging by appearance. A human, clean shaven, from neck to top of head, and several tattoos marking his body.

 

“Ramming speed please. We will flood them with full force.”

 

“Sir, their bubble walls will probably reform right after we break through. We won't flood them with water..."  The Linnorm commented, unsure how much Solus knew about the Gungans. It was obvious that the Shard was still relatively new.

 

Solus snapped his fingers. “Ah! Good point. But I meant we will flood them with us. Once we break through, we will pour out of the sub and attack whatever is there. I myself will use the distraction to find the communications”

 

The Linnorm nodded, a little unsure about the plan. Still he obeyed and gunned the controls.  The Sub picked up speed. It was aimed at the largest of the bubble structures, a large gathering room by the looks of it. At this distance, everyone could see the Gungans scrambling to get their men in places to repel the attack. 

 

“Come everyone! Let us be ready!” Solus declared and went for the bay doors. He didn’t need the pilot’s word over the intercom to tell him when they would make impact. He could feel it. It was coming. 

 

“Now men...lizards...everyone of the killing nature!” Solus stated, bracing for the crash. “I’d like a large distraction! I got a mission, and you got yours! Kill or be killed! It’s Hell or make Hell! Feed the Fangs or be fed to the Fangs!”

 

With that, the sub crashed through the bubble wall. Everyone inside felt the sudden change in direction as metal came to a screeching halt. Instantly the bay doors opened, and the Linnorms led the charge. Solus couldn’t help but begin to laugh as he followed them, eager to both observe the slaughter and to begin his mission. With the forces fighting, he would find an opening and break through.  

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"Doctor," Nex called out from the ship's cockpit, "we are receiving coordinates."

 

Zylus ran his hands along the front of his voluminous robe, giving the illusion of the scientist being clothed in the purest white. To those who could perceive into the ultraviolet spectrum, his plain and pure clothing was a blend of both muted and iridescent colors, the patterns reminiscent of the markings of the predators of Umbara.

 

"Understood. Send it to my datapad."

 

A soft trill sounded from the smooth slab resting in the robe's side pocket, and he drew it out and flipped it on with a quick finger motion. His eyebrows shot up a full inch as he read the global coordinates.

 

"Deep..."

 

"Should we take off?" Nex asked, his voice perfectly identical to to his creator's, but absent the tinge of pride that laced Dr. Zylus' every word.

 

"...No," Dr. Zylus said after a brief pause. "Unit 22...how many gungans were out there before? And you said none escaped?"

 

_________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

Cutting through the water, the gungan bongo juked and cut through the water like the seas creatures it had no doubt taken design inspiration from. Seated at the controls, looking for the all the stars like he'd been piloting one of these all his life, was Nex Zylus. Nothing in his expression betrayed the close calls and "learning moments" it had taken for him to turn the stolen submersible to his will. The long scrape on one edge however...

 

Seated behind him were two more exact copies, though dressed differently from the submissive and docile assistant. Where Nex wore a simple long shirt and loose pants (perfect for laboratory work), Unit 22 wore his standard combat gear, including a fresh set of fatigues. And beside the bodyguard say Dr. Zylus himself, resplendent in his "white" robes, eyes closed in thought as they had been for the entirety of the trip.

 

"Coming up on our destination sir. Hailing them."

 

"Bring us aboard immediately," Dr. Zylus replied, finally opening his eyes. He smiled. "Much like the enterprising woolamander, I prefer to engage in battle from a safe distance, surrounded by allies, and in a tactically superior position."

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The good doctor had arrived just before the submersible had been able to free itself from the icy web that had ensnared it; a byproduct of Inmortos’s display of power. There was little time for pleasantries before the craft  was hurling towards the Gungan city.

 

The Sith lord had barely enough time to brace as the liquid medium holding the ship gave way to a tumultuous screeching of metal on metal. That was not going to buff out. Like an icicle, Inmortos’ feet kept him stayed to the deck even as the craft jolted and listed violently before stopping.

 

The forces of Akheron and Solus were first to the fray, falling screaming upon the Gungan defensive forces still mustering to their sudden location. Inmortos acolytes acted differently, the necromancer and undead taking up their place at the breech to ensure that none gained access within.

 

Turning, Inmortos regarded the clone with visions as grand as his own. “Doctor. Your arrival is most, unexpected. As you can see, I am about the business of our mutual beneficial arrangement. Shall we secure your souls before I convert the remainder to my will?” 

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Tros stood and watched as Sutu carried out his orders without any questions. The death of a mentor to him was still ringing loud and true within his ears. He kept his own hand upon the beskad as the city of Theed burned down around him. Sutu appeared again before him suddenly out of nowhere. "Alor, the fallen's gear has been collected. A few leftover explosives could still be used. A group of our spotted some attempting to get children out..." The words bounced around within his head for a moment as he ponder them and their meaning. Or rather, the direction that he indeed wanted to move towards. After a moment passed, he withdrew the beskad"Setup the explosives on the far side of the palace. It will stand in this city no more. Bring me to the children and their caretakers. They will become Mandalorians, or they will perish with this city."

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10 hours ago, Krath Inmortos said:

Turning, Inmortos regarded the clone with visions as grand as his own. “Doctor. Your arrival is most, unexpected. As you can see, I am about the business of our mutual beneficial arrangement. Shall we secure your souls before I convert the remainder to my will?” 

 

Dr. Zylus took in his employer.

 

Inmortos. Necromancer, monster, immortal sorcerer. Titles from the tales of the superstitious, disregarded by the sane and rational.

 

Or rather, the fearful and ignorant.

 

The umbaran scientist had been exposed to demonstrations of the Sith lord's power, his ability to consciously achieve what conventional science considered impossible. He'd seen chanted spells and nerve-degenerated corpses fill the world with power that scraped at his mind with rotted fingernails. Inmortos was quite real, and the stories of the Sith's power were based in more fact than most would be comfortable admitting.

 

That was why Dr. Zylus was here.

 

This energy field...this "Force phenomena"...was a blind spot in the scientific community. Any literature relating to its study was sparse and filled with superstition, unnecessary reverence, and the worst kind of intuitive leaps of logic. The Jedi and the Sith cultivated reverence and mystery around them as a matter of course, desiring the power that came from misunderstandings and fanciful tales. Yet now, the galaxy stood at the brink of a new dawn of scientific inquiry into this exact subject. The Galactic Alliance, like so many other Core-born federations, had fallen, and this time the regime that sought to replace it lacked the stranglehold its predecessors had enjoyed on the Core. The Sith Empire, for all its power, was a chaotic thing, relying on the individual power of its warlords over any kind of centralized power structure. That kind of institutionalized anarchy, combined with a near constant war, led to one very important thing.

 

Deregulation.

 

A grin broke over Dr. Zylus' face.

 

What a time to be alive.

 

"Krath Inmortos, I am pleased you are looking as well as ever," he said without a hint of irony in his voice. In truth, Inmortos did look much the same as he always had. "My research has hit a dead-end, and I find myself in need of field data, and volunteers. When I discovered that you were in the area, undergoing a military action, well...I couldn't let the opportunity slip by. Judging from the commotion outside, it would seem you're experiencing success." He drew out a Marcan cigarra, palmed a lighter from under his robe, and sparked the little stick to life with a fizzling electrical discharge. Pale purple smoke rose from the cigarra as he put it in his mouth and gave a grateful inhale. The faintest sense of euphoria calmed what little nerves he had and cleared his mind. The world became an easy thing to analyze, clarity present in the absence of those irritatingly persistent negative emotions.

 

"I'm happy to report that you're orders are doing well, with no noted side-effects or mutations. We ran a diagnostic on their genetic code before arriving. 99.999% match." He puffed out another plume of violet smoke. "As for the 'souls' you refer to, if they are Force-sensitive, than you have my sincerest gratitude. Test subjects are difficult enough to find as it is, and volunteers would be a princely gift indeed." He turned. "Nex, inform the others to prepare for new subjects. Have them run through the standard baseline trials. I'll develop a more robust itinerary later." He started to turn away, before something occurred to him and looked back at his subservient clone. "And make sure you get the marrow samples first this time."

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A wicked smile cracked Inmortos’ frozen features, “Most excellent to hear. If you or your,” he regarded Zylus’ more militant copy, “associate wish to walk the streets with me, you are welcome. I suspect that you might be able to identify more material. Material I may otherwise purge.”  Inmortos gestured for the breach and the chaos and carnage that echoed into the submarine. The smell of carnage was in the air.

 

Gingerly, leaning heavily on his cane, Inmortos picked his way to the Gungan coty beneath the crashed submarine. His failing eyes surveyed the chaos; blurs of movement beneath his gaze. Where his eyes rested, the energy dissipated like heat in a snowstorm rising in puffs of steam and vanishing int the air. 
 

Inmortos took in the bulbous structure that had withstood the impact of their vessel. “Fascinating” he whispered as he approached it. Reaching out with one ghostly pale knobby hand, the sorcerer pressed his palm to the bubble’s interior. Like an opaque curtain being drawn, the ice seeped outwards, obscuring the outside world as the bubble was consumned. Once frozen, it would take but a touch. Once the bubble froze, Inmortos looked to his comrades and laughed. “Who likes to swim?” Tapping the sphere, a crack formed and Inmortos stepped through a gelatinous membrane into the next sphere. The bubble quickly destabilized and cracked, water pouring in at the seams for a moment before it gave way to the might of the sea all at once.

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Time seemed to slow with the adrenaline pumping through her veins. The metal was cold, very cold; and sharp, so sharp. It pressed gently against her skin at first, in the center of her abdomen. Then a popping sensation as her flesh split, no longer able to resist the pressure of the blade. It burned not unlike the fire roaring in her ear at first as it burrowed through her flesh. As it came to a stop it got so cold. Freezing; like a bitter spear of pure ice pierced her core. Her rage and anger faltered, giving way to fear, panic even as death loomed like a heavy storm over her.

 

The feeling of being lifted by the blade was so strange, she wasn't just picked up, but something inside her pulled her off her feet. "You are quite the Warrior, little Sith" His breath reeked and Kahla held back her gagging. To be called little was so insulting, she'd accomplished much following the footsteps of her master, and it felt as though he completely disregarded her effort, despite complimenting her as a warrior. And that he hardly payed attention to her, distracted by the battlefield. In that moment her rage built inside, she wanted so badly to retaliate, but she was near frozen by the pain.

 

"I expected the Great Moon to call home our souls and cleanse you, but she has decided otherwise. Pity. You are dishonored and tainted. I don't know why she chose to spare you. Perhaps there is something she can see in your soul that I cannot." She was disgusted by his religious preaching, his voice droned on about the god he followed, and how she was 'tainted'. But such was the fate of the Sith, and if Taint lead one into power, then she would have to embrace it. In a moment of recollection she understood. Perhaps failure would have to pave the path to personal glory. Interrupting her thought, the dog continued "I will leave you to your wounds. Survive, or do not. I can care less."

 

As she felt herself flung free of the blade in her stomach Kahla understood her chance. To learn, to improve. Trial and error had gotten her this far, and with each foe she grew to better understand not just her enemy, but herself.

 

There was a hiss as her body hit the water, blood blended in the current, the last few moments of consciousness spent hazily watching her life essence spill and disappear into the lake, like dust lost in the wind.

 

The light was blinding; everything a bright white, surrounding her. She hated it. Medics seemed to claw at her, 'fixing' her, sewing her mangled flesh back together. Kahla let out a roar of pain before the world went dark once more.

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Akheron was about to move when the submersible crashed through the bubble, when a sudden thought from his apprentice caught his attention. One he attempted to hide. It seemed he disagreed with him...and deemed it appropriate to backtalk. This only angered the Sith Lord. He had no time for this.....and yet this offence needed to be dealt with. However he decided now was not the time.

 

It would have to wait. For now a more important task awaited, he would sate his anger upon the gungans. Looking as the ice crept up the bubble, Darth Akheron ran into the fray, not far behind his apprentice. Soon catching up, he departed for another bubble, the same the Krath Inmortos entered although from a alternative pathway that reconnected from another direction. 

 

Nodding his approval at the show he had put on, Akheron noted the two clones. Dr Zylus he presumed. He had no time to consider more before several plasma balls flew past his head. Advancing, saber ignited the Warrior embraced his Wrath and allowed it to take control. Focusing it he jumped a distance, landing between a group of gungans, before slamming his saber into the ground as he landed.

 

Like a wave expanding outwards, ripples ripped along the ground around from where he stabbed, jagged pieces of debris and ground were ripped up and sent from the epicentre, in waves. Like a earthquake underground, impaling or sending those caught in the circular killzone flying....as shrapnel and bone crushed together, and met those unfortunate enough to be in the path of the destruction and chaos that had been unleashed to be left dead or maimed. 

 

Such was the intent.

 

It had begun. There would be no saving Naboo now.

 

 

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

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 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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Excitement flowed through Solus like hot magma. With his ignited lightsaber in hand, he and his Linnorms crashed into the walls of Gungan shields like a wave of muscle and metal. Clashings of metal against metal, laser against energy shield or flesh, and fists against faces rang through the air. 

 

The area that solus’ particular group of Linnorms was the path directly towards the cities’ center. While this path seemed to have the most reinforcements spewing from, Solus was confident that this way would lead him to his goal. 

 

Solus saw an opening. There was an area that was thinner than the rest. The gungans were focusing on the right side of his central path. Knowing that the Linnorms would be adequate without him, Solus charged the left flank and jumped. His metal chassis soared through the air above the heads of Linnorm berserkers and Gungan warriors alike. Solus landed with a solid thud, swung his blade around him cutting a few gungans, then charged down the path. 

 

“We have our own mission, after all. We can’t fail master, and if worse comes, maybe that stupid Krath can help them. Heh, not that he looks like he could help much.”

 

Solus charged on and on towards another bubble section in front. A few gungans lined up to stop him, energising their shields. Without thought, Solus jumped again over their heads, this time slashing at the bubble wall above them. The temporary flow of water that crashed on the Gungan heads knocked them to the ground, just in time for the Shard’s blade to cleave their bodies. 

 

“I must say, we are beginning to enjoy this body greatly. That previous one was so bulky and slow. While I may be small...”  Solus’ vocabulator chuckled in delight as he turned and continued his charge. “I am powerful. All will fear me!” 

 

Soon, Solus found what he believed he was looking for. The oblong bubble had a mixture of mechanical and biological technology, complete with an antenna popping out of the bubble into the waters. Gungans and humans alike were busy working at the machines, trying to send out messages. It seems they were having some sort of trouble. 

 

“Not that it's going to improve now.” Solus declared as he charged towards the bubble entrance. 

 

“Dat's what yousa think”

 

Solus had to stop. At the bubble’s entrance stood a lone gungan. Clad in warrior garments, a ceremonial necklace, and the Ankura gungan carried no Plasma balls nor spear. Instead in his hands was a metal staff, sparking with purple energy at both ends. 

 

“You think you can stop me?” Solus asked, holding his balde forward threateningly, its red energy reflecting off of his featureless face.

 

The gungan smiled, whisker-like hair gently moving aside to reveal large molars.


“Mesa captain of guard of Ota Moona, and mesa think me goen to kill yousa, yousa dumb mackaneek.”

 

Solus laughed. “Right. You and that puny staff. What, you some kind of warrior? I am a god! Defend yourself Gungan!” 

 

With that Solus rushed the Gungan and brought the blade down. With a fluidic manner that betrayed his heavyweight looks, the captain stepped to the side, blocked the blade briefly with one end of the staff, then spun it around. The blow and the energy knocked Solus into a wall. The shard barely reacted in time to dodge and jump away from another swing from the staff.

 

The gungan grinned again and spun the staff in his hands.

 

“What's wrong mackaneek? Wasn't expect someone to use yous weapons? It may be old, but it's still a worthy weapon to destroy yousa.”

 

Solus picked himself up and braced himself. This was a different kind of battle. This would require a bit more than blind rage. He hadn’t fought something that could actually block his god-like blade before. 

 

“You simply caught me off guard, warrior.” Solus said, rotating his wrist a full cycle, as if to demonstrate his own capabilities.  “But now I’m ready for you.”

 

The two came together and clashed again. Solus’ attacks, now much more reserved and cautious, were continually met with blockings and ripostes from the Gungan. However, it was clear that Solus had an advantage with his metal joints and gears. His own body reacted faster than he would’ve imagined. If the shard had been a human or similar, he would’ve been at a huge disadvantage.  

 

Still, the Gungan was well trained. Solus recognized that as he deflected a blow to his right and tried to slash forward. The gungan brought his staff around and this time with enough force to knock the blade out of the shard’s hands. Caught off guard, Solus was then smacked back several times as the Gungan sought to expand the distance between the two and the fallen, deactivated blade. 

 

Solus, now completely on the defense, dodged stab after stab from the electrified staff. Finally, Solus tripped backwards and fell to the ground. Before he could get up, The Gungan pinned him with one large foot on his chest and staff pointed at the Shard’s head. Again, he smiled his large molars.

 

“Yousa fight well mackaneek, but yousa still lose. Still, thanks for dha exercise.“

 

Solus did not answer. Instead, he deactivated his chassis and fell completely limp. The Gungan looked in surprise. 

 

Without the distractions of sight, sound or touch, Solus was open to the Impossible Geometries. His rage gave him the sight he needed. He could see the blade, deactivated on the floor. He could wrap his anger around it like a hand, and activate it. He could throw the blade towards his true target. 

 

The Gungan looked back in surprise as the communications bubble exploded. The Lightsaber had sliced through several key machines, causing a chain reaction. This surprise was what allowed the Shard to activate his body once again and kicked the Gungan off. With a swift kick, Solus knocked the Captain out. 

 

Solus reached out with his hand, and the blade settled back into his grip. He collapsed to one knee for a moment over the unconscious gungan.

 

“That...whoo, that was something…” Solus commented, feeling his chassis regain the energy needed to power it. “Pity neither Master nor Tear got to see that. I should be the one thanking you Gungan. You showed me things I didn't know I could do.  You, my worthy foe, will be an excellent being for my master. ”
 

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The fires were visible from space, a large blot of dark, glowing at the edges as the fire spread throughout the capital. A beautiful capital, its granite columns and flying buttresses now nothing more than a blackened and melting ruin. The forests of trees reduced to ashen timber piles, covering the graveyard of native animals. It was strange that such a scene could affect him, even a dozen years after committing a similar atrocity. But the sight of the fire brought a swift rush of emotion, even as the command shuttle dipped into the upper atmosphere of the planet. 

 

What was this waste? What was this wanton destruction? 

 

It was that dratted little conscience popping up again. He sneered out the window and looked away from the rampant fires. Concentrating instead on his uniform, the sheer black officer’s outfit was almost unfitting, the blue badge of the Darkwatch stood out beside the insignia of the Sith Empire. A spider. A spider who no longer existed. 

 

There would be hell to pay for that. And as strong as Nyrys. No Ailbasí. That was how he knew her, and despite her new title, rank and power. She was still just a lost college student whose’ father had placed under his protection. And what did Dagon think now? Now that his little girl had tread in his footsteps, and had burned an entire civilization to the ground? 

 

Delta shivered and pulled on his coat, whose crimson lining shone in the reflected light of the great fires. He did not relish that eventual meeting for there would be hell to pay. All of it Delta's. For he had long ago failed that mission. 

 

He gestured to one of the Subalterns that appeared at the end of the landing ramp. "Take me to the Dark Lord. Now." 

 

And his nostrils were filled with the acrid smoke of a dying nation.  

 

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Ca'Aran

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A Primordial Death loomed over the Naboo as a lone ship exited hyperspace above the planet and fell upon its surface as rain. It wasn't the feeling of dread not despair that flowed upon the currents of the Force, nor was it bleak and hopelessness. No. This was Darkness. This was the blood Chaos, the hunger of Pestilence, the wrath of Damnation. It was sickness and weakness. For the Son of Nurgle had arrived and his spiritual presence within the Force echoed in its ripples and pressured it's depths. All knew. For even the dead beckoned his call.

 

The screams of the dead cried like demons being dragged to persecution as the vortex of souls darkened his path, the condemned a mere pathway for his decent. And as the ship came aground, his Blade became their beacon as the Souls draped the Sith Master in their darkened veil. Through the eyes of his vassel, he gazed upon the Soldiers that awaited him as he glided across the metal that refused to meet his step, unworthy and menial. He smelt of death, and his flesh rotted with decay, his wounds carrying disease and gangrene. And yet, the Wraith within lived, unencumbered by the finality of Death.

 

A mind within reached out like a calling, beckoning @Darth Nyrys with it's presence that would be unknown and yet familiar, the age of it reminiscent of those who came before her, and yet, even older: similar to that of the Spider's. And the Darkness of it's soul would be unmistakable, rotted and diseased as it's outer shell, a plague upon the flow of the Force.

 

Darth Oni smiled as he made a brief contact with his target, his gaze still holding it's tie to the Soldiers before him. He opened his mouth, the words groaning like the hellfires of Chaos its self. "Take me to the Dark Lord. I wish to meet with her."

 

Before Oni stood a large crystalline figurine, the souls of the condemned swirling beneath it infinitely at his will, it's ghastly appearence housing the former inhabitant of the vassel he possessed as it hung upon the web of souls. With a wave of his hand, it began to move forward as the guards turned to lead the way, Oni in tow. As chatter came across the wires about his request to meet with the Dark Lady of the Sith and his credentials were verified, the Wraith pushed forward.

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Belay that order on the explosives, I am in the palace. Also, conduct Delta up to me immediately.

 

As befit her status, Darth Nyrys had been using the palace as a residence and command center on Naboo. Its commanding perch gave her an excellent view of the consequences of the actions of the Sith, a vista of bitter ashes. The passions of her fellow Sith had brought her this feast of crows, and at the time she had stood by them, but in the aftermath she regretted her own part in all of this. She didn’t know if she could have stopped the Sith on the charge, most of them not even aware yet that she had ascended to the throne, but she couldn’t help but feel that earlier in her life she would have tried. Perhaps that was foolish youthful optimism and the innate yet flawed belief that right would triumph over might. 

 

She needed to make her position clear, to associate consequence with sloppy conquests like this. There were absolutely times when there would be a need for mass violence, her predecessor’s preference for maneuvers in the political arena over the battlefield perhaps played a part in emboldening resistance amongst the softer folk of the galaxy. The siren call of vague ideals like freedom and democracy constantly swindled safe and secure planets into armed revolt, which the firebrands and dissident ideologues would always try to turn into an excuse for why the revolt was necessary. They were kleptocrat vultures who sent the gullible to the slaughter while they filled their gullets with a feast of sympathy and praise.

 

But while the Sith didn’t start this rebellion, they were responsible for the cost in life reaching the excessive toll that it did. There was a difference between cowing a populace with fear and outright exterminating them. Darth Mavanger’s prior military actions had been so much more methodical and smooth, this outlier was unfortunate. She needed to find out if this was the start of something new or a one time occurrence.

 

Was this the truth of so many past troubled histories, stymied by the blunders of the prior administration before they could even establish their own legacy. The feeling that this was still Exodus’s empire was unavoidable, a pervasive and oily stain that seemed to cling to every aspect of the Sith. There was only one path forward, overgrown with thorny vines and concealed by mist. She might have doubted her ability to traverse that path in the past, but she had sharpened her blade on too many stones of trial and tribulation to question her strength anymore.

 

She took out the comm that Darth Mavanger had given her, accessed its encrypted line. 

 

We are reforming at Naboo, make haste there immediately.

 

She felt Ca’aran before she heard his approach, a wonderful storm whose downpour could wash away the funk that she was in.

 

It’s like watching a muscle finally releasing from a cramp. Please tell me that Mechis isn’t a smoldering slag heap. If you tell me that I will have a deep insertion mission for you. Very deep, much insertion.

 

She felt the presence of another Sith presumptuously demanding her immediate attention, but other things were about to come first.

 

I will address the Sith in due time, but there are urgent matters to which I must attend.   

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The smell brought him back. 

 

The crisp ozone of expended fuel and long lasting fires. The sharp scent of burnt bone and slagged permacrete. He stepped over a long line of blackened stone that had turned to a molten puddle under the heat of a turbolaser. It had supported a house once. The rubble and blackened dwarfish bodies told him that. Bodies always shrunk in the heat of these kinds of fires, grown men turned to carbonized skeletons that lay in crumpled twisted heaps. 

 

But that was how war had been for a thousand generations. And before beautiful cities were turned to rubble for some Sith lord to get his revenge for some small slight, they were destroyed over resources, or the love of a woman. He let the smell of death fill his nostrils, and reflected on this long war. Too long of a war, a war seemingly without end. How long had it been? Had it started with Furion? That great escalade with the Mad Hutt in the ruins of the Senate? Or did it go back to a fight that had never truly ended even with the mass pardons of a war lost and won? 

 

Another step, another body. Another thousand lonely corpses getting dumped into a mass grave. Then into the solace of an empty palace. The smells changed, the lighting changed, and doubting Ca’Aran became again the dutiful soldier. 

 

He smiled warmly and grabbed off his cap, offering a stiff and overly formal bow that did not mesh with the grin. 

 

“Well it certainly looks better than this once peaceful planet my Lady. The forge world is up and operating at peak proficiency, It only needs raw ores, and the computer system assures me it can build us an army worthy of any great Empire.” 

 

The grin became a warm smile. 

 

“How are you?” 

 

He wanted to say more, to kiss her and hold her close, to call her Ailbasí instead of the formalities of her newly acquired rank. To ask her if it had been worth it. But that would come later. Or so he hoped.

 

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Ca'Aran

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Those that remained after his initial attack would soon wish they had died. Trodaí placed his saber away and took the limnal blade, Rindreáil Anam from it's resting place in the scabbard on his back. His mental state and mind likewise changed as his Wrath was channelled and redirected, tapping into and sending Darth Akheron into a spiritual trance that unified th warrior and his weapon into a singular force....one of destruction. In the trance the world changed around him, at least from his perspective. He could now use the Force and command obedience from the physical world, as he became one with perfect communion with his weapon as he entered into the ancient but deadly warrior spiritual state known as the Wisdom Of The Blade.

 

The Dark was channelled through his body and weapon and they became a unified circuit. Darth Akheron could feel the change as the blade gained a a sense of buoyancy, innately knowing its place in the galaxy, as he began cutting lightly and falling the weapon down on enemies with meteoric force. Each hit sent a spray of fresh blood in all directions. He found equilibrium, his balance becoming unbreakable and his weight fluctuated between airy insubstantiality and bone shattering heft.

 

Yet despite all the chaos he was creating around him with the weapon, christening his gift with fresh blood and cleaved bone, there was a eerie calm. Even as elements of what appeared to be a storm weaved into his attacks, he was the eye of the storm and around him as his sword was being fed souls as destruction and chaos surrounded the Sith Lord and death is all that remained in his wake. Souls inside the now lifeless husks that no doubt would soon to be claimed by the Krath Inmortos.

 

Within this surreal spiritual state Darth Akheron entered into a Blade Dance. Circuitous patterns without losing forward momentum is what soon followed. Each step and footfall seemed counterintuitive and dreamlike to observers, yet bewildering to his opponents and soon after victims to the sword he wielded, as each strike was seemingly of a sourceless momentum. 

 

It would make quite the impression upon any would be observer if they had never witnessed it before. A fact that brought a smile to his face under the mask he wore. In this calm amidst the chaos and the storm of his sword play, Darth Akheron felt truly alive for the first time in years. The thrill and chaos of battle on such a scale had been sorely missed.

 

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

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 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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Dr. Zylus' eyes went wide.

 

"Wait, what are you-"

 

_____________________________________

 

*Cough, wheeze, cough*

 

Dr Zylus hacked up water, his fine robes dark and soaking. Beside him, Unit 22 stood impassive, rivulets of seawater running off of him in steady streams.

 

The necromancer had actually broken the barrier. After that...water, rushing water and darkness. Then he'd felt Unit 22 grab him, and when he finally could breath again, he was here, in another one of the gungan bubble chambers.

 

"Half mad...metaphrenic...athazagoraphobic...gangrenous old corpse..." Zylus cursed between breaths.

 

Then he chuckled. He'd forgotten how sadistic Inmortos could be. He stood up, and felt the distinct weight of his soaking robes clinging to him like a dozen cold blankets.

 

"...Should have known these would be a lost cause anyway." He fiddled with the clasp and let the clothes drop to the bubble floor. Beneath, his clothes consisted of a simple set of pants and a tunic. His lab garb.

 

"Unit 22. I need an Otollan gungan, preferably a healthy, younger specimen." Dr. Zylus gestured further into the chaotic city. "Let's hope Krath Inmortos didn't get swept away." Never once did it even occur to Dr. Zylus that Inmortos might be dead. He'd sooner bet on sabaac then on the possibility that his necromancer employer had finally passed on, and Dr. Zylus knew he was a horrible sabaac player.

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This body was so different. Where before there had been taut muscle and strong bone, there was now willowy sinew and a superb sense of balance. Running was easy, bounding and leaping in great acrobatic displays even easier. This body was vigorous, hungry, and had long been accustomed to the high lines of fairs and circuses, when not begging for money in the gutters of Naboo. 

 

The two large cats roamed alongside her, taking their time to run among the trees, then the empty streets, before stopping with her near a Sith patrol. With the caution of an assassin, she let the force breeze by her, tasting it for what it would tell her. She kept herself hidden through it, preferring to walk without it in the presence of great kings of power. But nearby there was one such master, an unknown force, waiting at the doorway to the palace of the Queen of the Galaxy. 

 

Bidding Katharicos and Apsolon to stay behind. She walked towards the great master, whose presence she had never felt.  Things had changed much since the Spider had left.

 

“Master, what brings you through the long stars and mists to the halls of their queen?” 

 

Her voice was soft and kind, her appearance of a lowly slave, her outfit that of the Mirai. For this man was unknown to her and she had grown up with this Sith Empire. What great things had he done, what worlds had he enslaved? Or was he like her, a nothing. A failure. 

 

 

@Sith X

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Naboo held a darkness about it now. Before, it had only been Mordecai with the shadow, lashing out after the death of his lover. He was pleased now that the entire planet shared that shadow. Or at least, he was. As their dropship drew closer to the palace, and Mordecai could gaze upon what he had wrought, he felt shame. Not that so many had died by his orders- no, he still believed that they had reaped what they had sowed as people who had sympathized with the Jedi and the Rebel Alliance. No, he felt shame for what he had done to the once beautiful infrastructure. Buildings lie in rubble, the Palace was heavily damages, and the hangar was all but caved in. It would take much time to rebuild, whereas the people could simply be replaced with loyalists. It was a lesson, then.

 

"Behold my fury, young Fiochmar. Sith fleets lay waste to entire planets at my command. But also behold the consequences of such an order. This is the cost of failing to tame your emotions. We are rulers, but it means naught if all you rule over are ashes and rubble. Indeed, I am sure that there will be larger consequences for this slaughter that I will bear on my shoulders."

 

The shuttle shuddered as the ramp slid open, and Mordecai disembarked. It wasn't long before he was met by a young officer, who informed him that the Dark Lord was currently occupied, and that she would see him shortly. Whether it was true, or if this was a move to assert dominance over her lords, he did not care. He had other things to attend to than petty politics while he waited. He turned to Fiochmar, crossing his armored arms.

 

"I have already seen some of your combat ability. Now, show me what you can otherwise do. Lift that stone." he ordered as he gestured to a mid-sized piece of rubble.

 

((Lift the rubble in any way you see fit. If you use the Force, describe how he harnesses if, what it feels like, how he shapes it. If he at first fails, describe his feelings. His repeated attempts, and what ways he tries to improve. If he succeeds, describe his emotions at doing so, whether it be his first try, or after repeated attempts.))

Edited by Mavanger

 

 

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Fiochmar listens and nods as he looks out over the devastation. Listening to Mordecai he nods his head and continues to survey the destruction.

 

"What you say makes sense in truth." He says softly as they start heading down the ramp. When they are told that the Dark Lord is busy and than what Mordecai wants him to do.

 

"My training starts with lifting a stone?" Fiochmar shakes his head in disbelief.

 

"Fine this will be simple."

 

Fiochmar stretches out his hand and concentrates on just his desire for the stone to lift. Nothing happened he sighs and shakes his head in frustration as he tries again and fails.

 

"Nothings happening this shouldn't be that hard." Growling and concentrating on his frustration with the failure, the rock rolls over a couple of times. Before his anger and rage boils over pushing the stone away.

 

"GAH! COME ON!!" He growls and this time he focuses on the feeling of failure his anger at not succeeding, the feeling of inadequacy and self loathing. Finally he closes his eyes and envisions a weightless bubble around the stone using his entempered and empassioned state of mind he focuses strictly on not allowing them to control him but him to finally control them. Finally the rock rises from the ground and he is filled with a great sense of pride.

 

"Ha ha I did it!"

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"The Force is a tool, but it is a proud tool, with a long history. It will not bend to those undeserving. You must make it obey, grip it's very essence and use it to manipulate the world around you. Those that can wield the Force are great men and women, the most powerful being in the galaxy. If you think that harnessing that power will be easy, then you must not understand why there are so few, even among your kind, that reach the true heights of power."

 

He stepped forward to the same piece of rubble, which had given the young man so much trouble, gripping it with one hand and with the aid of the Force, lifting it easily, as though it were a hollow decoration. He threw it, and it sailed across the courtyard, shattering as it impacted the ground. He turned back to his apprentice, his face grim.

 

"Such is the smallest taste of power that we wield. But this power marks us as enemies of the Rebels, of the Jedi. In the Empire, there is safety amongst our peers, and a goal to unite us. But alone, we will surely fall. For even the Dark Lord relies on her empire to do what she alone cannot."

 

He drew his blade and held it out.

 

"The Force does many things. This blade is heavy for it's size- the average man would struggle to wield it even with two hands, and yet I can swing it with ease with one. It's name, in the tongue of you people, is Imeall Dólás. The Edge of Sorrow. It is infused with the very Dark Side that we command, and will do my bidding for as long as I continue to fight. When the time comes, you will cast away these vibroblades you carry, and you will wield weapons of Sith Steel such as this."

 

He took a fighting stance, leveling his blade against his apprentice.

 

"Now, strike me. Use the Force to amplify your attack, to speed your movements. Do this, and strike me."

 

 

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As Oni stood before the great gates of the Nabooan Palace in wait, a voice spoke from the Shadows of this world and beckoned his attention, few rarely to approach without notice. Oni turned his inquisitive head, the stench of decay and rot whipping about as he moved. He smiled, the yellowing of the ivory noticeable from the whitened gums.

 

"The same that has always beckoned me." He voiced, the Force that swirled around putrid and stagnant. "With the Rise and Fall of another Dark Lord, I've come to pledge my allegiance yet again.

 

Coyfully, he turned to completely face her, letting his feet grace the ground for only a moment as his gaze met the girl's and his body stood strong in its decrepit state. Her amethyst eyes seemed familiar, as if he had once met them before. Did he know the child's parents? Was she there when he met with Exodus? He couldn't get a reading about her, not without forcibly intruding.

 

"Tell me child... Have we met before?" He poised, the gift for the Dark Lady held upon the unfeathered souls swirling behind him. "It has been many moons since I last gave my allegiance to my Brother, Lord Exodus, and yet, you seem familiar."

 

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A part of her wished she had the political acumen and historical knowledge to identify who this man was. He seemed strong in the force, and she could tell that without having to delve into the void. It was visible with her own eyes, eyes that narrowed into slits of scarlet tinged purple. In the downfall of her master, she had reverted to what she had always been. The silent sentry on the gates of the Dark Lord. The souls that flitted like gnats around a light behind him gave him a rueful appearance, but not a familiar one. 

 

“I am the lesser child of greater fathers.” 

 

She bowed low, her hands gliding out on either side of her in a mimicry of the high Naboo court. 

 

“I have seen the great strides of this empire, and its stunning lows. I saw the Rebel fleet on fire over Onderon while its pilots and jedi were sacrificed in the blood red streets of Iziz, yet I also tasted the death of the Great Spider.“

 

But the empire had changed, its noontide had failed at Felucia. And this great man of power had come too late to save it. Telperien was sure, as she knew her adopted father was, that great empires relied on the cult of their leader. And for the spider to die away with little more than a whimper, had struck a blow that was nearly irrecoverable. The great lady would have to work without end to hold her power. For that was why the daughter of Ar-Pharazon stood here. If there was a threat, a silent stiletto and a flash of blood would end them. 

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Drawing the Vibroblade and Vibroaxe he takes a deep breath and gets into a fighting stance. He takes a moment and starts to focus on his anger and rage, his self loathing and lust for vengeance.

 

Focusing also on the way it felt and how he lifted the stone. And starts to let that flow through him. Smirking as he feels empowered, and revitalized. He takes a step forward faster than he's moved before and attempts a leaping downward strike at Mordecai. His muscles fueled by the force the strike coming down much faster and more powerful and a bit less clumsy than his first attempts had been.

 

His pride not able to let go of his completely humiliating defeat on Onderon.

 

"If you want me to strike you than Strike you I will!" Fiochmar shouts down at Mordecai.

Edited by Atrid Torsen

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“I really should have thought ahead before leaving my company…” Solus thought out loud as he dragged the bound Ankura Gungan behind him. By pulling on a leg with one hand, and the Gungan’s weapon with the other, Solus allowed the unconscious, heavy-set Gungan to have its face unceremoniously dragged across the smooth floor.  

 

“Who knew that you guys were so heavy. I really must ask that sorcerer for a stronger body when we are done with this. Wouldn’t you agree, captain?”

 

The gungan remained unconscious. His lips however were open from the dragging, leaving behind a slick trail behind the two. 

 

Solus shrugged and continued to drag on. His current goal was to find his own men. Partially because he wanted someone else to carry the gungan, but also partially because he didn’t like the feeling of being by himself. It was too much like before the ascension.  So quiet. So alone. 

 

Thankfully, it didn’t take long to find the others. The Linnorms were coming to him, taking heavy fire from their backside. The leader, a young quarren who had lost his eye, and another Linnorm raced to the Shard to take the body. 

 

“Sir, they circled around us and have separated us from Lord Akheron and the others” The leader said, binding the Gungan’s arms together. He recognised that Solus kept the Ankura alive for a reason.  “It also looks like reinforcements are coming from that direction as well, including mobile Gungan turrets.  We need to move.”

Solus nodded. “Follow me then. Lets move! And don’t lose that Gungan!”

 

The squad moved with speed and efficiency. Whenever a Gungan did get in the way, it was easily dispatched by Shard. Behind them, a few Linnorms had picked up some Gungan shields and blocked incoming fire. The forces behind the squad were growing. Even as violent and forceful as the Linnorms were, they recognised that they did not have the advantage here. 

 

Still, running was not comfortable for the group. They were raiders and pirates. Not cowards. 

 

“Here!” Solus halted the group. The squad had come upon a Gungan bubble that contained a variety of sea vessels in disarray . Most likely a repair area of some kind, Solus reasoned that the broken vessels would provide cover. 

 

“Everyone, get into positions and open fire on the enemy!” Solus was beginning to show a natural strategic leader. He recognised that fleeing was not a permanent option, and this was no way to get back to Akheron. 

 

The Gungans and the Linnorms opened fire on each other. Solus himself stood behind cover for a moment, analyzing everything.  The Gungans were setting up a shield wall and flinging their plasma from behind. Solus observed as the Linnorms grabbed grenades and began chucking them over the shield wall, trying their best to scatter the enemy. 

 

Solus chuckled as the explosions did what they hoped. The Shield wall began to lose cohesion. However, the pleasure was short lived. Behind the shield wall rolled up a four legged mammal, pulling what looked like a turret. 

 

“Assault Turret! Take cover!” The Linnorm leader called out. Solus barely ducked behind a dismantled Gungan Bongo before plasma ball after plasma ball crashed near him. With that firepower, everyone was pinned, and soon the Gungans would overtake their enemy. 

 

“Everyone! When I give the word, charge forward!” Solus called out. Then he focused. The Shard focused on the impossible geometries. The entire area was overflowing with a thick inky yellow. Danger. That made sense. Still, Solus had to focus past the danger. He navigated through the yellow and found the Gungans. Their random shapes and colors splurging and spinning wildly in action. Solus pushed further. Where was the thing?

 

“Gotcha!” Solus chuckled as he spotted the Geometries and focused on large ocular shapes with globularal edges and purplish emerald tints. The Falumpaset that had pulled the turret here. Solus reached out and grabbed the thing’s reins and pulled. 

 

“Now! Attack!” He cried as the animal bolted forward, breaking through the Gungan lines and causing the turret to spin out of control from its gunman. The Gungan driver tried to retain control over the beast.

 

The Linnorms took to the battle and charged forward. Solus himself led the charge, not feeling the effects of the Force as strongly this time. With blade ignited, he began to slice through the opposition. The turret was first overwhelmed, with the animal slain where it stood, and the Gungans were overwhelmed. Their line was broken, and their spirit turned to cowardice. 

 

Solus stood over the dead bodies, proud of the work they had done. Quickly afterwards, the group retraced their steps and found their way back to Akheron, who was having his own fun slaying Gungans by the handful. 

 

“Master! Behold!” Solus shouted as he approached the Sith Lord. He turned and presented the Gungan, who was still asleep and dragged by two Linnorms. 

 

“May I present the captain of the guard of Oto Moona, this soon to be emptied city. Though, I must ask, where are the others?"
 

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I am… overwhelmed, this throne belongs to someone else’s empire, and carries with it the blossoming sins of another’s choices. The harvest of all of the Spider’s agendas is upon us, and he is nowhere to be found at the time of reaping. Now the Sith, glutted on power yet starved for blood and flesh, find themselves off their leashes and at arm’s reach of the galaxy’s throat. I might have been among them if not for your own flickering humanity. Strange how it was the compassion of a soldier that spared me rather than the wisdom of a priest or poet, or some other traditional beacon of virtue. 

 

This isn’t how I wanted this to happen. I didn’t even raise my blade against Exodus, he just vanished at Felucia after giving me his saber. For all I know I am just another proxy in his schemes, or at least that is his intent for me. The galaxy likes to hold up Naboo as some kind of crown jewel of philosophy and culture, a clever deception to hide the blood that coats the hands of its founders. Now there will be armed revolts throughout the galaxy, and to meet them with blade and bolt will drown us all in blood, another grim chapter in the legacy of the Sith. 

 

I have a plan, though, to break both my chains and the cycle. The galaxy has forgotten why it needs a firm hand to guide it, and longs for the aimless meanderings of democracy once more. Let them have their corrupt politicians, and their impudent spending committees. When Coruscant burned, it was the Sith that rebuilt it and drove back the invaders. In absence, the public’s imagination has crafted tales of great guardians and idealistic protectors. They told themselves that the Jedi and the alliance weren’t helping them because we had driven them away, but in truth, the Jedi preferred the safety of isolation over keeping the promises that they had made.

 

But plans can wait, surely I will be neck deep in schemes and plots once I open the doors to the other Sith. At ease soldier, I called you here as my lover and confidante, not for a formal after action report. So come to bed with me, so that this new path does not consume all of me, and more importantly, because I really, really want you to. We won’t have long, I need to address the Sith before they burn down another planet, but without your touch all there is to gain in the galaxy is naught but ash and dust.

 

She kissed him deeply, hungrily. As loathsome as it was, the planetary pogrom was like doing a freighter’s worth of spice, and its siren call had beckoned to her over the weeks since her arrival. Instead she had sublimated it into more distilled desires, desires to continue her physical training, the desire to enjoy the amenities of the palace, and of course, physical desire. It was rumored that the previous Dark Lord had kept practically an army of courtesans, but she couldn’t help but feel that such extravagance would dull the joy of it all for her. Lust should be lustful.

 

Ca’aran began exploring his own lust, in depth, and together they stole this moment away from an ever demanding galaxy. She had noticed a shift in her mindset since she had created this form for herself, a newly seeded hunger for recognition and devotion from others, and Ca’aran’s love helped feed that hunger. His love felt worshipful in its focus and adoration, and that just felt so appropriate for how far she had come. In time, they would all adore her as she delivered them from the aimless meanderings of democracy. 

 

He called her Ailbasí. From anyone else it would have been insulting at best, and a reminder of weaker times, but from him it was endearing. It meant that he still saw or hoped for some measure of innocence and joy in her. She held him tighter. If everything else burned down around her, walking away with this would still be enough to call herself lucky. 

 

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Afterwards, they helped each other clad themselves in the trappings of their roles, but it felt less claustrophobic now. Nyrys had an easy grin that hadn’t crossed her lips in weeks, and the weight of the crown seemed a little more bearable now. 

 

She led him by the hand to the throne room, which in truth had more of the feel of an extremely luxurious executive’s office, and granted him a seat next to her. It was a show of favor meant to make it clear that this mortal was off limits to the other Sith. She gave him a final kiss before she put her mask on, figuratively and literally.

 

With the might of her power, she called upon the Sith at Naboo to assemble at her side, so that she may hold court over her generals and viziers. There was one truth that she could not deny, while the Sith could not ever truly be controlled, the darkness and fury of their storm could be directed. Like fire, they never stopped being dangerous, but their power could be put to use rather than left to run rampant.

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The attack was easy for Mordecai to avoid- he didn't even need to block it. He simply moved to the side as the apprentice hurled himself through the air, and swung at empty air. He retaliated, sending a blow from the hilt of his blade against the back of the man's head- not enough to knock him unconscious, but enough to teach him the error of his ways. He moved away, making distance so that he could speak without interruption.

 

"Do not leap at your opponent- by doing so, you've set your path in stone. Once your feet leave the ground, and fool can track your trajectory. At best, they'll simply move out of the way, as I have. At worst, you'll just end up leaping into the waiting blade of your opponent. It is a fool's tactic, one popularized by the Jedi, though few of them truly know how to fight. No- keep both feet on the ground, and rely on your strength and your fury to push your enemy back, without sacrificing your maneuverability."

 

He began to raise his blade, but sheathed it as he felt a pull in the Force. The Dark Lord called. He looked at his apprentice, motioning him to follow. Their training was over, for now. Indeed, it seemed she wished to hold council with the Sith still on Naboo. That, or she wished to slay them- If the latter was the case, she was certainly welcome to try. He would welcome her open combat more than the Spider's scheming and veiled threats. He silently made his way towards the throne room, growing restless. Twice, he had drawn his blades and they had not tasted blood, and they grew hungry, seeking to feed on the terror and helplessness of his foes. He could spot some of the others as he approached. A man with a host of the dead speaking to a nightsister. He ignored them as a strode past, his apprentice in tow. They climbed the stairs to the throne room, and his rage boiled just beneath the surface. Any would likely feel his coming as he drew nearer. He stepped into the ornate room, standing opposite of the Dark Lord, who's face remained hidden as she stood beside Delta. An interesting pair, he mused. He stayed silent, his eyes no doubt meeting hers through her mask, his gaze unwavering, a silent challenge that if she found him unworthy, she was certainly welcome to try and strip him from his standing.

 

Still, he knew his place. As he was master over his apprentice, the Dark Lord was the master over all Sith. The Spider had left much to be desired, but he knew of Nyrys. He was on Korriban when she devoured the Sith that had threatened her. He remember that her first move as Dark Lord was to join the fray on Naboo, and he was appreciative. She, much more than the Spider ever had, deserved at the very least a chance, and she had yet to give any of them any reason for pause. He knew not the nature of her assent, but whether it was through the slaying of the previous Dark Lord as was customary, or if, as rumored, she had simply stepped into the position after his disappearance, he could certainly thing of less deserving candidates, such as Lady Darksong.

 

No, he would not grovel here, as some Sith were likely to do, but he would pay her the respect that her title deserved, even if he was unsure of if the person behind the title was deserving of it yet. He glanced at his apprentice, a silent warning to watch his words. Sith politics were tricky business, and as he had learned on Kuat, speaking without thought could have catastrophic consequences.

Edited by Mavanger

 

 

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Fiochmar growled as he missed and apparently his moves telegraphed and the feel of the hilt connecting with his head. He shakes it off turning to look at Mordecai straightening and listening to his words. Fioch readies his weapons again grinning at Mordecai.

 

"I'm here to learn, and this was a lesson well worth learning aye? So never leap at your opponent. Keep both feet on the ground, strength fury and maneuverability being key factors got it. I understand."

 

Watching with glee as Mordecai starts to draw his weapons. But the look on his face and the gesture to follow has Fiochmar shrugging as he resheathes his weapons following Mordecai to meet the Dark Lord. His mind reeling with thoughts and questions.

 

As they head to the throne room Fioch keeps his head on a swivel. He watches as they pass the others and enter into the ornate room he watches Mordecai. With the look and silent warning given he nods his head and looks forward.

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Oni smiled a kindred smile toward the girl at her answer, a similar affliction that he himself had long dealt with and overcome. He may have been only a pupil of the Chaos God known as Nurgle, the last of his lineage just as Exodus was, but to Nurgle, all were his children. And now with Exodus gone, the only notice a exiting blip from the radar of existence, he had became the last. The Last Student of Nurgle, and the Last Alcazarin of Dominus. Such are the burdens of the Lesser Known.

 

"As are we all." He replied, placing his decrepit hand over his left pectoral and met her bow. "I take that you are a Lady of the Order then? To have witnessed so much in so little time speaks of great fortitude. Surely no one has passed up such strength."

 

As he poised the question, the Gates of the Palace began to creak open and his gaze shifted from her toward the awaiting Dark Lady and her Consort that sat within, the smell of lust and extracurricular activities flowing upon the stale air that was released. Turning back to the young girl, he offered her the lead, the Talisman shifting aside to allow passage. Once she had taken it, Oni would follow her lead.

 

"I am known as Darth Oni." He spoke, the voice echoing from his lips resounding of a simpler time. "I was once known as the Demon of Nurgle, Alcazarin, Protector of the Sith Empire." He chuckled briefly. "And yet, titles are such farces when beliefs are betrayed."

 

With that said, and his entrance made, Oni stepped to the corner of the Main Hall and would remain in the Shadows of the others as the rest would come and go. Only when the Dark Lady called upon him, would he present himself and the gift her bore to her Coronation.

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