Carida

[Darth Geradian]

Xander out his astro mech back down and looked as his master disappeared. Now that he was alone again, would those pesky creatures return? It was very likely. Xander told his astro mech to start repairing the ship again and started meditating. He closed his eyes and felt the area around him, together with all the movements. He knew that a lord had a much farther reach, but Xander would be prepared for an attack nonetheless.

[Capt. Phillep]

Admiral Phillep to the Fleet:

 

Captains of the Empire, your Emperor needs you at Artus.

 

End Comm.

 

The short, yet heavily encrypted, piggy-backed communications crossed only the ears of the highest and most powerful men in the Empire, the Captains of her fleet. They fulfilled their call immediately and with the greatest of haste.

[Minus One]

A lambda class ship exited hyperspace and a blue skinned humanoid exited. He stood there for a while and decided against working for the empire.

 

OOC: Change of heart, I'm really not into RP right now.

[Capt. Phillep]

The three Imperial IIs that escorted the fallen Emperor back to Cardia were reclaimed with ample supplies, soldiers, engineers and sufficient Industrial/Electrical/Mechanical planning to rebuild Kuat in a period of several days, despite Phillep's marginally delusional decree...

 

The three spears of destiny blanketed into hyperspace bound for Kuat.

[Guest]

A ship right outside of the orbit of Cardia starts its descent.

 

'Alright, let's make this a smooth landing'

 

They enter the atmosphere and input the coordinates on the planet that were to direct them to the Academy. He felt the Darkside's presence as his ship made a good clean landing.

 

He jumped out of the cockpit.

 

'Hay, where are we? The coordinates must be wrong. Uhhhhh! This always happens to me. Just like the Good Old Days on Coruscant when the neighbors gave me bad directions to the training facilities. Maybe it is a test, maybe the coordinates were entered wrong. I'll never know until I get to that Sith Academy.'

 

He started towards the east, but that didn't look right after about 15 minutes. So, he doubled back to the west as Cardia's second sun slowly sank below the surface. He made himself a camp right outside of a cave. He then slept the rest of the night, dreaming of a new day...

[Savage]

The person he once was, is dead. Until now, idealism had wasted his optimistic youth, and patience and time had incinerated the best years of his life while he had watched, smiling like a fool. Words like "freedom" and "righteousness" now rang empty, only "justice" and "punishment" brought forth emotion. The Republic is weak, just like it was always weak. All the good will and charity in the galaxy would never fix anything, only prolong problems - allow them to fester and decay into diseases that spread like wildfire into perfectly good communities. The only thing that can oppress evil is a strict and decisive government, and if he had to destroy the forces of good to ensure that evil was stomped into the ground without tolerance, then hand him a thermal detonator and run like Hell.

 

Vicious Ardo emerged from a week long hike through the steamy foliage of Cardia an unshaved, wild eyed man. Exhausted, but highly motivated, he began making his final steps towards an Imperial checkpoint. Scrapes and injuries patched together with his basic survival knowledge, he tossed the last of his death sticks into the jungle and slung his T-21 over his back.

 

"I came to enlist."

[Capt. Phillep]

The Imperial guards that saw the man approach smiled, a lone Scout Trooper had sighted him in the foliage and deciding he was nothing more than a crazed sociopath and reported him to his superiors accordingly. The Empire was the kind of hierachy where a single lone sociopath in the jungle, while a minor inconvenience was better left untouched until the bud was ready to be picked as a flower, or the egg hatching into a Krayt Dragon youngling from the nest, as the case may be...

 

When he approached, the young Commander approached the man in his tan ground commander's uniform and appraised the man's physique down to the way he held his T-21, the way he stood and the crazed look in his eyes. When the Commander was finished, the man was ordered to follow the armed escorts into the bunker where he would begin his initiation rites and basic training.

 

"However, before you join the ranks of the Imperium," said the man, turning with a sadistic gleam in his eyes, "we must remove your filth."

 

A rifle butt cracked him in the back of the skull and brought him to his knees, the two Stormtroopers led him to the Grooming Section of the underground Imperial Academy at Cardia, where a barber removed the man's wild growth...

[Savage]

He groaned as the pain wrapped his skull in confusion and anger, but realizing what was happening, he submitted himself to it. He hadn't always been a savage man, but he had always been a hard man. Being groomed to serve was an awkward process only in memory. A few seconds were enough to make eighteen years of hair and beard vanish, and he was reborn in the Empire's pristine image. His minor injuries were repaired by far more skilled hands, his breath was freshened, fresh clothing was quickly issued, and the toxins from the death sticks were quickly purged from his system.

 

He was ready to begin service. He followed his escorts to the bunker.

[Capt. Phillep]

"Rest today," issued the nearly monotone voice of the Stormtrooper XB-452, "Tommorow, we train."

 

The night would pass harmlessly as Ardo joined the other raw recruits, twelve in his division alone, all still with their birth names, tommorow, they'd be issued their designations and until they reached an Officer's position, that would be their name.

 

((OOC: Feel free to do some character development))

[Savage]

The efficiently designed sleeping pod Vicious was issued was only a few inches taller and wider than he was. He could hear his shallow breath echo against the pod's ceiling, inches above his nose. He was not subject to claustrophobia, but he could hear the recruit above him struggling to turn over in his pod. He closed his eyes and relaxed, concentrating on his breath and readying himself for the trials ahead.

 

He had done basic research on what to expect, but he only knew the curriculum from the old days - before the Republic. Things would surely be less formal now. No longer were the farm boys of the outer rim writing home to mother about how the academy was just like the propaganda that had lured them there. The Empire seemed most interested in recruiting battle hardened men who already knew how to hold an E-11, and how to kill in cold blood. Vicious fit right in.

 

The men he met today could've been his brothers, each as ruthless as the next, if less experienced. He supposed that he now looked much the same as they did - neatly trimmed, calm, collected. Listening to them speak, they were already beginning to lose any trace of their identity, which would make carrying out their duties a lot easier for them. Vicious, however, retained his will. He was still a barbarian, although one who waited for silence and off beat moments to strike. Acting civilized for his training would be no challenge, and living both the lives of a servant to the Empire and an heir to a more feral past would give him a decisive chance to stand above his peers.

 

He drifted halfway into sleep, consciously awaiting alarms or a voice to wake him up. He didn't allow himself the luxury of dreams, but if he did, he would dream of the ruins of the royal palace of Onderon, and have nightmares of the planet's spice infested ghettos.

[Capt. Phillep]

The day had begun early, before anything resembling a sun cast it's grace on the planet, an electric shock snapped the Cadets out of bed in unison, their pods opening beneath their feet and exposing them to frigid air. The mechanical voice resounded through the base's PA system, "Rise for the glory of the Empire."

 

A cold and merciless Stormtrooper Formation leader stood at attention at the center of the enclosed pods, he would be their "Drill Master" for the several weeks to come as the soldiers lost their humanity and became efficient killers for the Imperial Ground Divisions.

 

He smiled from beneath his plasteel helmet, the last sign of his personality, sadism, the only one naturally harvested by the oppressive regime of the Imperium, "Welcome to Hell, men. Begin running XH-456, XH-478, XH-587... and XJ-954 (Savage)."

 

The newly enlisted men would begin their days with morning exercise, followed by a short meal of whatever gruel was devised that day, only to be followed more exercise and then a preliminary weapons course, where the men would learn to work as part of a cohesive whole...

[Savage]

XJ-954 made a point to jog ahead of his fellow troopers whenever possible. It wasn't difficult, having enlisted while already in his peak condition. Years of abusing stimulants had their advantages as well, and sometimes the side effect of psychosis was one of them. This was especially true during live fire exercises against hot shot rookies looking to impress officers - nothing a little bacta couldn't heal. Vigorous cardio and strength training exercise coupled with grueling punishment and a will to get through basic transformed the sociopath into a psychopathic soldier. His commanders made it clear that we was part of a whole, a mere cog in the machinery of the Empire. Neveretheless, he was motivated to being the Imperial cog used to grind the Republic war machine to a hault, one blaster bolt at a time.

 

Hours blurred into days and then weeks. An all too familiar tingle thrust him into consciousness for the last time, and he instinctively snapped to attention. Today he would be issued his first assignment. Old feelings began again in the pit of his stomach for the first time since the rifle had cracked him behind the head his eighth day on Cardia. Hatred, disgust, blood lust. And he took pride in them.

[Capt. Phillep]

Several reports had been circulating about the Academy about the one designated as XJ-954, his physical prowess in both armed and unarmed combat, his endurance and reflexes were arguably the best out of the Academy's Ground Forces training. His Commander looked him and his fellow Cadets with a beaming pride and sense of accomplishment,

 

"Today you stand before me, not as individuals, not as weak separate souls but as cells, cogs and segments of a much larger whole, as gears within the Imperial War Machine. Your training is complete, you have been granted your armor and your formal dress uniforms. Your orders are clear, each of you to is to report aboard your respective Star Destroyers and join the ranks of the Stormtrooper Battallions."

 

The Commander turned, his hands clasped, overlooking the jungle canopy, legions of Cadets standing at attention behind him, in their plasteel armor reflecting the jungle... "Dismissed."

 

OOC: Report to a Transport ship and head to Kuat Drive Yards thread.

Edited October 18, 2005 by Guest

[Guest]

The Imperial training center of Cardia has been known for breeding some of the most dangerous troops the Empire has sent into combat. The deadly Stormtroopers who were little more than cannon fodder were trained by the thousands. The Venom Troopers who were sent behind enemy lines to destroy vital targets to allow for easier invasion were bred here. The Dark Troopers and Shadow troopers were trained here to destroy any and all soldiers that the Republic can throw at them.

 

A yuong man leaves the fresher unit and heads toward his barracks. Today had been a tough day for all the troops inside Delta Station. The 30 mile run and the obstalce course had proved tougher than Poseidon had anticipated. The small sleeping pod was more than enough to send the young soldier into a deep sleep.

[Capt. Phillep]

The quiet seclusion of the Imperial War Academy allowed for the students to be much heartier and capable men, being forced to spend sojourns in basic training within its walls and depending on their desires within the ranks of the Army and Navy, solo journeys into the jungle's depths.

 

Where the special ranks of the Empire had become slightly more consolidated since Phillep's returns, including a reorganization of the Dark Trooper Commandos, utilizing Force-Sensitive DNA from the one labeled as Experiment Alpha-Omega and the restructuring of genetic sequences in human males to create the formidable Dark Trooper II, a humanoid, sentient species of mixed Trandoshan and Human genetics. Several other divisions remained including what once was Venom Division, effectively, Crimson Dawn, surgical strike teams organized of a dozen or less men of varying physical aptitudes, most notably endurance and pain tolerance... offering both a Reconnaisance and Long-Ranged Assault teams. Finally, Shadow Division, now a relic with all of it's members suffering from a rare genetic disease... therefore the division was disbanded and Pariah technology left for another time. Within the general ranks of the Stormtroopers lay the Artillery Division, formed solely of those who 'piloted' AT-ATs, AT-STs, and AT-PTs into battle and assisted by the Viper Automadons, range-controlled AI artillery machines.

 

The Navy had also gained some restructuring, extending it's pilots into Tie Fighter, Bomber, Interceptor and Defender squadrons based on rank, aptitude and purpose. In addition, several Rebellion-confiscated plans led to the newly-developed (stolen) technology, including K-wings and E-wings now littered the Imperial War Machine, coming from the bays of Mon Calamari 90a Cruisers in conjunction with Imperial II Star Destroyers and Imperial Interdictor II Star Destroyers. Still in development are Mech Battalions of Space Shock Troopers, or space-bound special purpose Infantrymen.

 

The alarms resounded in the Delta Station barracks, waking all those men who drifted into sleep, the soft foot-steps of the Commander awakened the men who were still recovering from their slumber requesting their designation... His boots stopping in front of Poseidon.

[Guest]

As the alarms resonated through Delta Station, hundreds of troops leapt from their pods. Drills such as this were very common to the troops in this training facility. Delta officers had long been known as the toughest drill sergeants the Imperial Military had. Many of the troops from Delta Station were sent to the 501st for assignments that required superior skill.

 

Poseidons eyes flashed open and he could see his Commanding Officer before his pod. If he was even one second slower than the rest he would receive punishment. Swinging his legs over the side , he angled his feet to slide into his black combat boots and as he stood he snapped each buckle anbd felt them tighten around his ankles. Sliding his arm through the left sleeve of his training uniform he was glad he did not have to done his Stormtrooper armor in split second timing yet. Gripping his belt holster he buckles it to his belt before sliding the standard Imperial sidearm, the E-11, into place.

 

Snapping to attention at the foot of his pod he awaits orders form the Commander. His jet black hair hung around his ears uncombed for such tidying up waas not alllowed in these early morning wake ups.

[Capt. Phillep]

The Commander stopped and overlooked the men in Poseidon's regiment, also disposing of their names and offering them new designations, YT-357 (Poseidon) and ending with his twenty-seventh immediate compatriot, YT-364. The Commander's voice was gruff and simple, "Go to Combat Practice."

 

OOC: Just a few posts of random Stormtrooper training, let me know if you want to do something in particular, as referenced above.

[Guest]

With crisp clear orders, Poseidon salutes the Commander and makes his way from the barracks. Knowing that each day could lead him closer and closer to doning the armor of a Stormtrooper he took each assignment with excitment. As he neared his training arena, he prepared himself for the obstacle he would be facing. Today he would be fighting in The Pit. It was a sunk in arena with metalic spikes lining the wall. Each combatant was given a single vibroweapon, and a small knife. Poseidon loved this exercise for hi size and speed always managed to aid him. Leaping intothe arena, the trainee grasped the hilt of his vibrsword and swung it around before sliding his knife into its boot-sheath. His hazel eyes watching as his opponent did the same. Then the order was given to start. This was a fight tothe death, and both soldiers knew it.

 

Poseidon leapt forward bringing his sword into an upward slash. He felt the adrenaline rush as his body moved. The weapon in his hand was still unactivated for Poseidon prefered to bring this threat in at the last minute. He could feel the air whipping through his air. Every muscle in his body was tens as his blade made contact with the cold steel of his opponents. At that exact moment rain began to fall and the instrcutor called for both men to abandon the fight. But they each knew this fight was far from over. As the ground beneath them began to soften and fill with water, they blades clashed and sparks flew.

 

Twising their bodies around, each soldier was saved by a hair as blades skimmed their skin. Their feet were a blur as they danced around the pit, each edging from the center yet straying from walls. Their blades met once again showering sparks upon the ground. A crowd of younger students had gathered around the top of The Pit and watched as each solder made their moves against each other. With a slice to his head, Poseidon ducks and receives a slice through his cheek. Blood flows down his cheek for a mere second before the rain washes any trace of fluid away. With a jerk of his wrist, the younger soldier rips open the trainees clothing and drops to the ground. Flicking his wrist outward, his knide embeds itself in his opponents gut, allowing blood to run freely from the wound.

[Capt. Phillep]

YT-357 and YT-368 were both hit with stun-bolts, collapsing onto the mud pit, with YT-368 dragged into the infirmary to heal his injuries and YT-357 was put in electro-lock bindings in the brig.

 

A Commanding Officer approached YT-357 as he was caught behind the force-field and had come to, "Soldier, you nearly killed a man in your squadron. That... was unacceptable. This is a training facility, we do not kill fellows, we are not the Sith, we are not that brutal. Stand up, I think I have a proposition you may find appeasing and able to fulfill your bloodlust."

[darth shadowlord]

Draken's ship landed on Cardia, and he stepped out of the ship. He immediatly opened his mind to the force and he found that he could sense Alora's force aura which suprised him because he couldn't sense it while he was at Coruscant.

 

Then he turned to Alora and asked, when shall we begin our training or should we wait for Raxeon. Draken unsheathed both his swords and checked over his blades,while he waited for Alora's answer After he had cleaned his blades, Draken put his blades back in their sheath.

 

Then he set about cleaning his blasters spending careful time on each of the compoents of the blasters. He then returned each of the blasters to it's respective holsters and turned to face Alora.

[Alora]

"We shall head to the Academy and wait for Raxeon there. We shall use the training utilities and rooms there."

 

She stayed on board his ship, waiting for him to pilot the ship back to the Academy.

 

((sorry, should have been more specific there... to the academy thread))

[Guest]

oops didn't see your post Alora, I'll just go directly to the acadamy....

[darth shadowlord]

Oops sry Alora

 

When Alora told him that he was in the wrong area. Draken walked back into his ship and piloted the ship to the academy

[Tarrian Skywalker]

The Hell's Remembrance touched down, and Tarrian made her way into the temple to await DMD...

[Darth Mortis Diabolus]

DMD's fighter lands at the coordinates he recieved from lady Tarrian's transponder on Cardia to the temple. He exits his ship, then spots Tarrian waiting for him.

 

"I hope you were not waiting long. I got lost."

[Tarrian Skywalker]

Tarrian smiled over at DMD... and walked through the temple... she looked at the throne and the two walked over to get a better look at it... reaching under it... she pulled out a chainsaw... she raised her eyebrow and looked over at DMD... "Interesting... such fun toys they keep."

 

Taking a seat on the throne, she sighed... "Men... you all created such uncomfortable chairs to sit in... you all go for bigger is better... like you are over compensating for something."

 

DMD stood next to her... and she moved her hand to rest on top of his... and looked up at him... "Okay, lets do this... "

[Nahstaa]

Nahstaa's ship dropped out of hyperspace, Nahstaa manually bringing it out, before firing up the sublight engine, and jetting down into Cardia's atmosphere, the 4 clawed ship a spinning cone of fire.

 

Finally reaching a tolerable height and speed, he cut the sublight engine and brought in the repuslorlifts smoothly, before bringing the ship to touchdown on a landing pad.

 

Moving out of the ship, he headed for his old master, and found her sitting on a throne, the all-too-familiar chainsaw in her hand... Grinning, he said

 

"If im not mistaken, that chainsaw was used to cut off my arms the first time I was graced with mechanical ones. It would seem that the dark lord makes good use of it."

 

The comment was made to put his master off a little, but he still inclined his head respectfully none the less.

[Darth Mortis Diabolus]

The intial feel of Lady Tarrian's hand on top of his own, caused him the jump slightly. He almost pulled his hand from under hers, though he felt compelled to leave it. For so long he had dreamed of the day when he would stand before the Sith. And now her he stood, on the throne, next to a woman of equal power and standing by his side. The way that it had been prophecized all those years ago on Korriban.

 

The arrival of the Empress' former apprentice, Nahstaa snapped him out of his thoughts. The area on his face where the acid had began eating through, began to ache and burn almost white hot. He placed his free hand over the scar where he had been wounded. His hollowed eye sockets glowed intensly as he looked down upon the cause of his discomfort.

 

"Someone here seems to think you are ready to be elevated to the rank of master. I disagree. Tarrian thinks you deserve the chance to prove it. And so you shall have your chance. How do you want to proceed with his trails, Lady Tarrian?"

[Tarrian Skywalker]

Tarrian looked at the chainsaw, and smiled... "Oh, I could think of a few different ways... but I am hungry... I think Nahstaa should go catch dinner... he should know how I like my meals freshly killed... "

 

Tarrian stood up and narrowed her eyes... using the force, she violently ripped his weapons from him... ((all of them))... "you go out and bring back dinner... with your bare hands... NOW..."

 

She sat back down and watched at he left the throne room... she had not even realized that when she sat back down she had inadvertantly placed her hand back on top of DMD's... "I think that we should catch up while he catches dinner... "

[Darth Mortis Diabolus]

DMD negelcted to comment to Nahstaa after Lady Tarrian had given him his assignment. He knew that the look of contempt on his face was enough. The soft touch of a delicate hand on top of his own caused his hatred and resentment to subside. He had forgot about the eager lord waiting to be tested for masterhood and the numerous Sith who roamed the halls of the temple.

 

At the present, it was only he and she and noone else in the galaxy. The feeling was as overwhelming, as it was surprising to him. This was a road he promised himself he would never walk again. The hurt that Brook aka Jgod had inflicted upon him was enough to turn any heart black. As he looked down upon this angel of mercy, this beautiful creature that sat on the throne next to him, he felt the walls that he erected around himself crumble.

 

"I wouldn't know where to start? I can give you a breif history though. I had the priveledge of having to ruling members of the Sith as my masters, Darth Heretic and Jgod. I had my own way of doing things. It wasn't long before the taste for the ways of the current Sith began to bore me. So I left the order to become a rogue Sith, wandering the galaxy in my quest for power and conquest. Through the use of Sith artifacts and recovered holocrons I remade the destroyed planet of Byss, where I reside. I guest i had found the power I had sought out, but something was missing?"

 

He kneeled down so that he and Lady Tarrian could communicated on eye level, without her having to look up at him.

 

"As I said before, I was not popular among the Sith, especailly Barohm Zar. He and I were the fiercest of adversaries. We competed in everything, even love. The love of a woman named Jgod. Because of this I went to war against all the Sith who tried to keep us from being together. To make a long story short, I lost the war. I lost Jgod to Barohm Zar and nearly lost my life by her hands. I wasn't mortally wounded, but my heart wouldn't let me heal. The misery and despair overtook me. I fell into a force induced coma for 5 years."

 

He turned away from her shaking his head, then he stared to laugh.

 

"If it wasn't for my brother coming to find me, I would probably still be at the bottom of the oceans of Byss. But I can definitely say being here with you makes my years of suffering not seem as bad. I think I have covered everything. Is there anything else you wish to know?"