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Darth Heretic

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Abaddon stood from the throne. He brushed his hand through the jet black hair that hung to his mid back within the cloak. Tossing it out of the cloak after removing the cowl he turns to his apprentice.

 

"Take what spoils, you will." He nodded to Jareth that he and his apprentice could do the same. " Rewards for a first step."

 

 

Abaddon turned and walked out of the room... returning moments later with a set a holocrons.

 

"We have what we came for....Lets hurry on...."

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Father Bad Touch, Dark Priest of the Lords of Hate since Sept. 2003.

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Jareth waved a hand toward Tyler suggesting he take whatever struck his fancy from the ornately decorated throne room. The sith then turned to Master Abaddon.

 

"Master Abaddon," he began to speak, and then turned his head as if concentrating. "There is another presence here. Can you feel it?"

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::While the other Sith focused on their euphoria of spikking more blood, Ahriman moved into action regarding turning the shrine into an asset to the order. He scanned the room and quickly found the shrine's majordomo, a simpering fool, just like most others of his kind. Ahriman dragged the man before him through sheer force of will, in itself quite a task given the man's large girth.::

 

Compile the assets on this datapad.

 

:: The majordomo attempts to compile the data quickly, but his frantic desperation causes him to make several errors. A hand raised in preparation to backhand him makes the majordomo rethink his methods. Minutes later, a list is produced.::

 

Create local credit accounts, no government banks, and deposit all new funds from our aquisition. These accounts will be accessible to these three gentlemen.

 

:: The world goes gray around Ahriman, and suddenly he is no longer in his body. He is drifting through the void, until he finds himself looking over a man's shoulder. He quickly realizes it is his own shoulder he is looking over, and he sees the plans to his ship. Except it looks different then he remembered. The new design essentially divides the ship into four sections, and Ahriman could clearly make out the words holding cells on the plan.::

 

I see that this manifest includes several slaves. You will transfer the manual labor slaves to the holding cells aboard my ship, the Starweaver, it's located at these coordinates. The other slave will accompany me personally for the duration of my stay here, provided I don't decide to kill her. For now, bring her to me.

 

::Financial resources were not a concern of Ahriman's, but alchemy resources were a wholly different matter. Creating a base of raw materials solely from these events was a good start.::

 

Tieing up loose ends here will just take a few minutes longer. If it would please you, my master, I can meet you at the tournament. After all, it would be best to not arrive at the tournament soaked in blood. It would also give you time to examine the Sith artifacts we recovered. Tyler and I can finish things up here, perhaps he might learn something about overseeing inferiors.

 

::Ahriman privately adds "Since I'm sure there will be some heavy lifting to do" through the Force, but only Abaddon hears the sly comment.::

 

OOC::Please hold off on sensing Slaanesh's Force presence, we want to get some character dev in before she gets Sith brainwashing drummed into her head.::

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Tyler wasnt sure what they were staying here to do. But he was intrigued.

 

"I'd be happy to stay and help oversee the inferiors."

 

Although i dont understand why. We should just kill the idiots....

 

To Tyler the fallen were mearly to used as target practice.Maybe he needed to learn not be so trigger happy. It was difficult when it was so much fun.

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An evil grin crept across Jaret's face, and he sent a force message to Tyler.

 

"I'm sure a few.....could be used for target practice. Try practicing your force techniques on them."

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Tyler liked his Masters' way of thinking.

 

I will my master. I will crush them with the force.Tyler though back towards his master.

 

He was truely fascinated with his newfound ability to manipulate the force. His mind reeled with many possibities... so many ways to crush these pitiful bugs. The fallens' bodies were no where near as hard as the rock, which he had broken on his second try.

 

Tyler found that the more he called upon the force the stronger he felt and the stronger his connection to it became. It was intoxicating....Its dark powers called out to him.

 

He could cause so much destruction with this power....It was a thought that made Tyler very happy. A whole new world of causing pain was now open to him.

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Jzasa struggled to free her bracelet from the curtain, and managed to do so just as the footsteps stopped and her door swung open. To her surprise, it was not some strange invader, but the majordomo. He bore traces of the battle: plenty of blood, sweat, and an expression of unspeakable terror. Jzasa shuddered and looked away, dreading the news that was to come. She knew such terror could only bring tidings of one thing: defeat.

 

The majordomo grabbed her arm and began to propel her out of the room. Though no stranger to death and pain, she was appalled by the carnage she was walking by... and, thanks to the majordomo's agitated gait, through.

 

He explained that she and the other slaves were to serve those who had ended the lives of so many that very evening. More specifically, the others were going to continue the manual labor they'd performed for their previous masters-- she was to directly serve one of the invaders.

 

She hardly knew where she was walking, and ignored the majordomo's frenetic babbling until reaching her new master. She stood before him, eyes downcast, not quite sure how to act, but determined to not let that uncertainty show. She was now officially a spoil of war.

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There are two problems with reckless slaughter, Tyler. First of all, everytime you kill something, you lose that thing as a potential asset. Second, killing is a means, not an end. If you focus solely on killing, you're destined to be a pawn. Anyway, the choices are yours.

 

*Ahriman turns to fave the slave.*

 

What are your talents, slave?

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Watching the one apprentice's chastising of the other raised both Jzasa's eyes and her hope. There was a chance yet for her to live through this experience-- perhaps even benefit from it? As she considered this option, she began to release pheromones, preparing for when she must address this newcomer who was now turning to face her.

 

"What are your talents, slave?" he asked, almost as an afterthought to his speech.

 

Jzasa lightly tossed her bead-bedecked hair, exuding confidence and mastery of self. "I am a dancer," she said softly, suggestively. "What is your will with me?"

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Ahirman valued life too much. Tyler enjoyed destruction and pain in all its chaotic glory. He new too some it was considered a 'waste' of a life but to him the lives of his victims were meaningless and his to waste. their deaths brought meaning to Tyler empty exsistance.

 

It seemed that his master, Jareth, nutured his destructive nature and irrepresable rage. Tyler was not going to listen to Abaddons apprentice...what did he know? Just before the battle Tyler had sensed hesitation from Ahirman. He saw his complaint about Tylers' slaughter as a thinly veiled reverance for life....to Tyler that was a weakness.

 

A sith should not care about the lifes of pitiful underlings. If Ahirman did indeed have a weak stomach he wouldnt last long as a sith. Tyler decieded to keep his distance and see what happened...he could be wrong. But too Tyler a Sith who complained about destruction was very wrong.

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Abaddon looked at Ahirman.

 

"No my apprentice we will stay and wait...there is no reason to rush."

 

He turned hearing Tylers thoughts.

 

"Your will is strong...but you are foolish and have much to learn. Not everything needs to be destroyed. A wise General and Warrior knows its far more beneficial to take something whole than destroy it. Resources can serve as a wider power base than raw power. May I point out that Palpatines greatest strength was not his mastery of the force, but the power he wielded in the Empire."

 

"The Art of War states it is better to take something as a whole than destroy it. Hesitation at times is a good thing...it shows thought and reflextion. Ahirman did not choose his path, it chose him. He has to come to grips with this. You lack the foresite to Judge an equals power or potential. And lack very much the position to scold another of your same level, especially as hasty as you have." The cold words bit Tyler's thoughts off, like ice cutting through a thin rope. His cold tone and dark eyes said more than his words as he cleaned his blade of blood by flinging his sword in a downward arch.

 

The blood spattered on the wall and he sheathed it on his back, hidden under his cloak. Apprentices were begging to get annoying. He hoped eventaully this would all pay off. Soon he would have two more young ones to pick up. He talked to the man Ahriman had been speaking to transferring the credits available to his account...they would come in handy at some point.

 

He then began reading the volumes of information in the books he had brought and the holocrons he had just recieved. Absorbing as much of it as he could while the others finished whatever it was they were doing.

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Father Bad Touch, Dark Priest of the Lords of Hate since Sept. 2003.

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"With all due respect, You, Master Abaddon, lack the position to scold my apprentice. As does your young apprentice." Jareth's words were stern, and solid.

 

"I advised him that 'some' could be used to hone his power. An apprentice focusing his use of the force at the expenditure of a few worthless beings is hardly wreckless slaughter. Think of it as fine tuning and exercise. Living targets can be quite useful." Jareth then turned to his apprentice and continued.

 

"The difference lies in what we spoke of earlier about being selective. You must focus, and through your focus, you seperate yourself from a wild beast which kills with no reason. Your motives are what make you who you are."

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Tyler bowed his head to Jareth.

 

"I understand what you are saying Master. That is what I have come to learn. I sometimes find it hard to control my destructive urges. Sometimes I become like an animal. But I did not do that here. My will was focused and controlled. My thoughts were simply betrays my irreverance towards life. These lives mean nothing to me...I am no jedi."

 

He spat out the word jedi like it had a bad taste. They were weak creatures, burdened by their morality and restricted form any real power.

 

Tyler would have to start guarding his thoughts...

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"I know my young apprentice. Think nothing of it. You did exactly as you were instructed." Jareth spoke and made a calming gesture with his hands, and then turned to Abaddon.

 

"What are we to do now Master Abaddon?"

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"You talk a mighty talk my friend" The last two words were stressed but earnest "...I would have chosen you for my own apprentice...but remember you are still but a new Lord and you are in no way able to even suggest what my "place" is. There are few who can...save the Dark Lord." Abaddon was getting irratated but tried to speak as delicately as any Sith could when addressing the Jareth. He had liked the young Sith and young was probably the reason for such speach.

 

"You ask me what next, after you try to tell me my place?!?!" The words were emphasized like a father scolding a son. "I remind you kindly, to caution your steps. You know not the path you tread." Abaddon was trying to keep the diplomatic tone. He would have striked down any other Lord for such talk...even his former apprentices.

 

He looked at Tyler...He reminded him of Vauler and his insolence and how many times his former apprentice had to be killed for his arrogance. Abaddon had to restrain himself very much from killing the two outright. Made him wonder if he was loosing his touch and getting old.

 

"For the moment...nowhere. I suggest you make yourself comfortable for now." Abaddon said darkly his diplomacy gone, having been reminded of much he had rather avoided the memory of.

 

He looked back in the book hoping the Sith Lord would know when to keep silent.

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Father Bad Touch, Dark Priest of the Lords of Hate since Sept. 2003.

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Jareth could sense Master Abaddon was becoming irritated, and wasn't the slightest bit afraid. His diplomatic nature, however, did cause him to choose his words lightly. He closed his eyes and concentrated on sending a force message to Abaddon as not to speak out of turn in front of the two sith's respective subordinates.

 

Exact words were not projected but the basic message was, "I meant no malice."

 

Jareth then began walking out of the temple, and waved for Tyler to follow him.

 

Once they were outside in a clearing, A silver and black stun-saber appeared from beneath Jareth's robes, and he handed it to Tyler.

 

"It is time you learned to fight like a Sith, young one. This saber is special to me. It is the saber that my master used during my training. If you strike yourself, it will not cut you, but you'll know you've been struck."

 

Jareth pulled his own saber from his hip and activated it's bright red blade. He stood at the ready and gave another instruction to his apprentice.

 

"Feel the weightless nature of the blade. It moves cleanly, and can be hard to control. Even for the most experienced swordsmen. When you are ready, we will begin."

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Tyler had never fought using a sword. He was used to using his fists and sometimes a blaster, but never a sword.... He had a lot of learning to do.

 

Tyler was very appriciative of the fact that his Master was passing down his own training weapon. Jareth was wise and Tyler had great respect for the man.

 

Holding the weapon in his hand Tyler took a few practices swings at the air to get a feel for the weight of it. It felt strange but after practice he was sure it was something that he could get used to.

 

"I am ready my Master. I await your instruction. I am no swordsman but I am a willing pupil."

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Abaddon senses it is time to move. He has more to teach...Ahriman's path is beginning to come together and for the moment his presence was not manditory.

 

"Ahriman, I will meet you in the Casino I expect you to be ready very soon. I have a gift for you if you win that Sabaac game before I get back."

 

((Hurrry it up....you two are online enough to do this...lets get the ball rolling. I am getting bored of waiting for you two. Especially when your online and on the phone constantly.))

 

He turned and walked out taking the stolen speeder to his gunboat. He pauses breifly to force message Jareth.

 

"I will be back. Casino." No more was needed to be said so Abaddon wasted no more time with it. Entering the rear entrance of his ship he started the craft's repulsorlifts with the force before he was even seated.

 

He stacked the holocrons beside the other books and took off out of the atmosphere and moments later he entered hyperspace....

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Father Bad Touch, Dark Priest of the Lords of Hate since Sept. 2003.

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OOC((Sorry for the delay...))

 

::Deciding he wanted to be away from Tyler a bit before his own intelligence started dropping due to exposure. He takes his new slave to one of the private chambers of the original rulers of the shrine, and begins to examine her in more detail.

 

Her face had a pleasant symmetry, and her body was very lithe. Her skin tone had changed to a relatively orange color once she had heard that he did not plan on killing everyone. An intervention that may have been most costly had it not taken place. Her eyes were a deep shade of violet, and very stunning.

 

Ahriman begins to pace around her.::

 

As you may have guessed, it is through my will and my will alone that you have survived this long. While for now you will serve simply as my attendant and companion, I have a larger role in plan for you in the future.

 

::In a situation where one is surrounded by those of greater power, it is by opportunity and the illusion of complacency that one advances. Ahriman would continue to play this game awhile longer, till the opportunity would come. In the meantime, he would enjoy the spoils of his conquest. He could feel the pheromones begin to course through his system, but with nowhere that he needed to be till tomorrow, he let her chemical seductions languidly move through his veins...*

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((OOC: Sorry, I've been slammed with work. I'm one of those weird people who actually DOES use the internet for schoolwork.))

 

Jzasa followed her new master to the chambers, continuing to exude the steady stream of pheromones. Though fairly sure she'd be spared, it could never hurt to go the extra distance-- especially when she could see the effect that she was having on him.

 

She wondered what he meant by her having a larger role in the future; but she decided to let that statement pass unnoticed and start creating a larger role for herself in the present. She moved closer, and gently placed her finger over his lips. "There will be plenty of time to talk about the future. Until then, there are many ways to occupy our time." she said softly.

 

With that, she walked behind him, trailing her finger down his back as she passed, closing the door to the chamber. He sat, and she knelt before him, knowing that the pheromones had accomplished their goal and that any new delay would result in impatience.

 

"Master," she murmured, looking into his strangely vivid green eyes, "I thank you."

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((OOC: Guys my home internet is back up as of right now. YAY! so lets get down to business))

 

Jareth plunged head first into tylers saber training. He was not one to beat around the bush, and Jareth knew that the young apprentice's instinct, and desire to live would be a good teacher for his first lesson. Jareth jumped high, and came down toward his apprentice furiously with an overhand strike. The strike was blocked, but the sith lord's weight amplified by his speed was too much for Tyler. He fell backward onto his rear and propped himself up with his elbows.

 

"Good....you have blocked your first attack. You seemed to move out of instinct rather than fear. This is commendable. Now. again."

 

 

Jareth began a barage of attacks aimed at Tylers upper body. His saber hummed and hissed through the air as it struck toward various places at half-speed, which, for Jareth, was still impressively quick.

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Tyler wqas amazed by his Masters' speed and skill. When he had fallen Tyler though that he had failed, but apprently just being able to block was enough. Jareth was pushing Tyler, but at least he would learn that way. He soon discoverd that it wasnt about any special technique but mearly being fast and strong enough to stop the enemy's weapon be you lost your head.

 

With this in mind Tyler tried to draw the darkside to him. Its energy coursed through his viens give him that extra speed he needed to stay alive.

 

Jareth aimed a series of strikes at Tyler's upper body. Through strength and a little luck Tyler just about managed to block them all. it was no easy task though and Tyler began to sweat from the effort.

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As Jareth continued his offensive, the darkside flowed through his mind and out into the surrounding area. He focused his efforts, and concentrated on his apprentices mind. Through his concentration, he could see figments of his past life, and the many people who he had fought, defeated, and been defeated by. One trait remained the same throughout. It was a neverending will to survive. Jareth was happy with this, but it was not what he was looking for.

 

Jareth continued making furious swipes toward his apprentice with controlled chaotic rythm. His attacks were calculated, but far from the full extent of his ability. He was still reaching into the apprentice's mind when he found a particularly treacherous moment in the young man's life. It was lodged deep within his brain, but once it was located, Jareth had no problem drawing the memory directly into Tyler's conciousness.

 

Tyler shrieked as the painful thoughts engulfed his psyche and caused him to relive the moments over and over in slow motion, but with quick repetition. Jareth tortured tyler's now fragile mind until he broke, and then the sith lord took advantage of his small victory, and turned it into a total one. Jareth's outstretched palm made a violent motion toward young Tyler, and the full brunt of Jareth's force presence was slammed instantly into the apprentices chest sending him crumpling to the ground.

 

Once Tyler's blurry eyes focused, he was on his back stairing straight up at his master's saber which danced from eye to eye as if choosing which to burn out.

 

Jareth did not, however, destroy his apprentice. He instead deactivated his saber, and returned it to his hip. He smiled and spoke to Tyler.

 

"You must defend the obvious attack, and also defend the one's that are more difficult to see coming young one."

 

 

"Now, learn saber-offense." he commanded, as if Tyler could teach himself from what he had just seen his master accomplish, "I will not use my saber to defend. Strike me if you can."

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Tyler's mind was a barrage of violence. Images, Feelings confused and mingled into a melting pot of anger.

 

Everytime he closed his eyes he felt a fist pummeling his face. Smashing into him. Breaking him-body and soul. He couldnt remember whose fist it was. The memory was repressed so deep in his mind that he couldnt she the face that controlled the fist. Tyler mind was fractured. He could see clearly through the mess, couldnt hold on to what was real.

 

Through the haze he could here a voice...

 

"You must defend the obvious attack, and also defend the one's that are more difficult to see coming young one."

A barrier of mental stell closed down cutting Tyler off from his paniful memories.

 

Suddenly he was back. He was training with his Master, it had been a tactic to throw him off guard and to teach him to guard not only his body but his mind.

 

With extreme mental effort Tyler held himself together.

 

"I will not use my saber to defend. Strike me if you can." It was Tyler's master Jareth...

 

He's training you remeber.... Said a voice in Tyler's head.

 

With that he steadied himself for further mental attacks and prepared his body for an offensive. Rage was blinding...something that Tyleer was slowly beginning to learn. Tyler kept his cool, drawing on the force so that he could remain in control.

 

In the place of Jareth Tyler saw his father. The one man he loathed more than anything. He didnt lash out blindly, instead he channeled all of his rage and hatred into a controlled energy that he drew on to fuel himself. He began a seies of powerful controlled strikes at Jareth.

 

Tyler was in control of himself, he knew that Jareth was not hbis father...But the visualisation helped he fight his best, helped to to harness his anger.[/i]

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*After several hours of being entwined with the young falleen dancer, Ahriman rose and got dressed, bidding that the slave do the same. Exiting the private chamber, the young man adresses the Hutt agents.*

 

I wish to aquire Hutt assistance in the running of this small convergance of business.

 

*After an hour of negotiation, a percentage is agreed on.*

 

Lord Vermillios, has my master returned from his business off world?

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When Darkness Falls drops out of hyperspace just as it had entered, white lines merging to spots in the blackness, dots, points of light, stars.

 

He turned to his two new apprentices. He force messaged each seperately as he looked away from the controls, having set the atmospheric landing vector. The Sith Master stared at the two, briefly at Theodosius and a bit longer at the beautiful Tea'dora, her skin still pink from the snow and ice of their last destination.

 

Tea:

 

I told you. The connection you have with your brother is not just that of twins. All living things have it. However, few are strong enough to use it... Think not of yourself so highly till you have the skills to back it up...one's ego can only match one's power.

 

To Theodosius he stated simply:

 

Your sister is strong willed, yet you are quiet...we will soon put you both to the test...

 

______________

 

Soon thereafter the ship had landed and Abaddon entered the casino...

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Father Bad Touch, Dark Priest of the Lords of Hate since Sept. 2003.

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Tyler's saber offense was becoming formidable in a very short time. As swipes from the bright red stun-saber whizzed past Jareth's head and torso in rapid succession, it was becoming increasingly harder for Jareth to evade the attack.

 

His form became a blur of motion as he quickly dodged left and right, forward and backward to avoid being struck by the blade. He could sense Tyler's frustration as his repeated attempts failed. He could also, however, feel the frustration turning into determination as his young apprentice harnessed and focused the dark feelings into more usable form.

 

This was good. Jareth was pleased at the progress that he was making.

 

He raised a hand toward Tyler and with his palm facing upward, he moved his fingers slightly. The stun-saber rocketed from his apprentice's hand, and disengaged as it reached Jareth's outstretched hand.

 

Jareth then threw the saber hilt back to his apprentice, and spoke.

 

"Good, young one, You are showing much promise. That will be all for now. I believe Master Abaddon has returned to the planet, and we should go toward the casino to meet him. Go and advise Tzeentch that his master is back."

 

Jareth stood, waiting for Tyler to complete his task, and then the two would head to meet Abaddon.

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