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  1. Today
  2. Telona 12, 3631 Holle's Apartment, Kaas City Winter had come and gone, and in its place the spring season had come full swing. Holle had grown accustomed to the slave she now owned thanks to her master's generosity. It felt strange at first to be called the owner of another living being, but she found that there was no universal rule for how a slave should be treated. In perhaps one of the only examples of the half-Zeltron's magnanimity, she had been remarkably kind to the young woman she had been granted. She had to be roughly the same age, a Twi'lek as most slaves seemed to be, and almost obnoxiously obsquious at the beginning. While they shared a mutual skin tone and biological sex, that was the end of their similarities. One of them had been chosen for Sith training, the other had been chosen to serve the one meant for Sith training. It was an odd counter-factual that she played over in her head when she met Nala, that she could have been in her position. By the providence of the Force she had freed herself, and the other had not. Holle considered what could have been, had she still been a slave. Would her owner in Valyrian's Empire be kind, or harsh? Would she have even survived had she not been put on Korriban? To be put in that position was strange to say the very least. Holle sat on the balcony of her apartment overlooking the sunset over the skyline, a glass of wine in one hand and a data pad in the other. Nala was seated in the chair opposite her, and was relaxed with her own wine as well. For what it was worth, the half-Zeltron had treated the woman more like a roommate than a slave. Her understanding of Sith history told her that it was not uncommon for such things, but they usually had tragic endings. The relationship between Darth Malgus and his slave Eleena Daru had been a perfect example of what happens to the Sith that become attached to their slave. She sometimes considered if that would be the end of Nala as well, but pushed the thought out of her mind to keep reading an excerpt from the Sith archives she had accessed prior to returning home. It was a fascinating piece regarding the use of the Force to enhance arms and armor, both temporarily and permanently. The things the Force could do continued to astound her no matter how much she read. To think a simple sword like the one she owned could be made in such a way that it rivaled the cutting power of a lightsaber was simply incredible. Something like this had to have been an ancient power, that dated back to before the invention of the lightsaber. What she would not give to hold something created from those times, to discover an ancient weapon forged by the progenitors of the Sith that had been quenched in the ancient blood and enmity of the Jedi. What kind of Dark Side power could such a thing hold? Holle placed her empty wine glass on the patio table and looked over the data pad at Nala, "Nala, be a dear and send an invitation to my master to join me tonight for dinner. I was thinking red meat, something tender to go well with the new shipment of Alderaanian wine that arrived this morning. Maybe accent it with some kind of starchy veggies or a salad." "Of course master, do you wish for him to come as soon as he is available or at his leisure?" She asked, putting her glass down and getting to her feet. The question came as she stopped at the sliding door to the apartment. "Express that I wish to see him reasonably soon, but do not demand his time if it is unavailable. I have some things I would like to discuss with him face-to-face but they are not pressing or urgent, so whenever he can make it will be satisfactory." Holle said, a very small smile on her face. Nala was a good slave, if she was honest. She did as she was told, she was respectful, and she never seemed to get out of line. Whether or not that was out of fear or out of respect for how she had been treated by the half-Zeltron she left a mystery that was best left unsolved. She placed her data pad down next to the wine glass, "Oh, and another glass of wine please. Red." she finished, returning her attention to the setting sun and the skyline.
  3. Yesterday
  4. Name: Cyrex Varsin Gender: Male Species: Human Rank: Sith Apprentice Date of Birth: 17th of Nelona, 3659 BBY Appearance: Cyrex is a long and lean man possessing a leonine appearance. His blond hair is commonly pulled into a tail. His body has scars just about everywhere but the most prominent ones are the electrical burn scar that covers his left hand before traveling up his arm, and a deep gouge along his jaw bone. He dresses for practicality and is almost always wearing black. Possessions: Vibrosword Apprentice Robes Duraplast Armor While Cyrex would be insulted at someone calling his "brother" his pet. A nexu he's raised and formed a bond with through his life. Personality: Cyrex is an arrogant and cocky fellow, but has never issued a threat he hasn't been willing to follow through on, even if he ends up taking lumps. He regards everything as a battle, from sweet talking girls to actual combat and every loss is something to learn from. He has a habit however of biting off more than he can chew and not doing enough research into matters. He also adheres to an old code of conduct that was taught to him by his old master who the inquisitors that found him ended. He follows his dream of becoming a Bladeborn, though his reckless ways might get him killed before he achieves it. Skills, Abilities and Talents: Cyrex is a fellow who has a philosophy of fight first and think later excels with physical applications of the force. He is already showing himself to be talented with a sword and is slowly working on a lightsaber. He doesn't have much patience for meditations or research, preferring to move. He also dislikes the more mystical parts of the Force and prefers to ignore them so he can focus on training for war. Biography: Cyrex was born and raised on Onderon, a world that is commonly torn between it’s roots and it’s future. Cyrex himself was born to a beastman family out in the wilds and always felt most at home there. Though many beastmen are adapting to more ‘civilized’ ways there are still a number that remember their darker roots. To that end they raid the “weaker” ones out in the wilderness. Cyrex was taken during one of these raids as a child and while he was treated harshly at first but after he murdered the one who had dragged him away he was accepted into the group that started using him as a scout. Cyrex was often in the wilderness alone or with other and sometimes acted as a front man in the city of Iziz, using charm to bargain for things his tribe needed. This was how he found his nexu Dal’har (which means Little Brother in old Onderoni) and took the animal from a handler that was going to execute the kitten for biting him. One day while out on his usual scouting rounds Cyrex came across an old man that somehow had been missed by the others. The strange hermit lived in one of the nastiest parts of the jungle and seemed to have no defenses set around his home. Curious and thinking to get a few interesting trinkets for himself Cyrex broke into the place. He did not realize however that he had broken into the home of a Sith Bladeborn hiding out from the new imperial regime. After a very short scuffle Cyrex was bested, in spite of his skill and even with his nexu helping him. The old man however chose to leave Cyrex and his pet alive in return for a promise to learn and keep the teachings alive. Cyrex agreed, wanting to become as good a warrior and someday beat the old man to a pulp like he had gotten beaten. He never got the chance. After about a year of learning from his master the Inquisition came kicking down the old man’s door. While Master and student faught well and fell a few in the end it was futile. Cyrex though was given the choice of serving the Empire or being beheaded on the spot. He opted for serving the Empire, from the sounds of it that was a better place than his tiny world anyway. Character Skills and Abilities: Force Powers Enhancement Force Dash Force Jump Force Body Restoration Force Invigorate Protection Force Armor Astral Force Sense Perception Beast Control Psychokinesis Telekinesis: Novice Lightsaber Throw Force Push Force Weapon Environment ~ Physical Comprehend Language ⇉ Beast Language Skills Melee Weapons Novice Bladed Weapon ⇉ Intermediate Bladed Weapon Jar'kai Proficiency Martial Arts Martial Arts: Novice Mounted Combat Mechanic Novice Armstech
  5. Karter rose from his meditation, properly focused now that he had immersed himself in his hatred. He exited his quarters, face concealed under his hood. He exited the ship, finding a Rodian in green combat armor escorted by bodyguards. "Rejekk will see you now, please follow us," the Rodian ordered them. Karter followed, calling out to Kal. "There's a cart next to the weapon cases, load them on and follow me." *** Rejekk's compound on Nar Shaddaa was deep in the urban center, an unassuming, converted and reinforced black office building about six stories high with gold tinted transparisteel windows. Karter and company were led past the security checkpoint at the front lobby. Karter took note of the surroundings in the interior. Creamy pastel walls and ceiling with amber running lights and a gold marble floor. The dozens of guards armed with slugthrowers caused Karter to realize Rejekk had told them about him. Fine. He could deal. The black doors ahead, giant and carved with simple engravings slid open revealing Rejekk the Hutt resting on a golden sofa, flanked by a golden protocol droid and two gold painted Twi-lek slaves wearing VERY little. Karter was reminded of that senator he had once rescued with Arkanus. He almost smiled but crushed the good memory. He had to focus on the now. Focus on the hate. The room was vast, filled with pilferred museum pieces from the Great Sith War. Ancient armor, mostly. "Mighty Rejekk, good to see you," Karter said with proper deference. He sweapt a hand behind him. "I bring you a minor gift. Sonic pistols, custom jobs from an Alderaanian palace. One of a kind. The Hutt spoke slowly. Karter sensed Rejekk seemed pleased. "Rejekk thanks you for your gift. He is prepared to offer you twelve thousand for the whole thing." Hmmph, not what Karter had been expecting but he could deal. He still had one more play though. Karter removed the lightsaber of the Jedi he had slain on Alderaan from his jacket. He flashed the blade on. It was yellow in color. Rejekk's eyes widened. He spoke quicker now to his droid. "Mighty Rejekk is prepared to offer you twenty four thousand credits for your rare, yellow bladed saber." "Done," Karter confirmed. "Rejekk is also prepared to offer you access to his markets as a gesture of gratitude," the droid continued. "Provided of course you are willing to accept his mission." "Of course. I and my employee stand ready to serve your interests." Rejekk spoke quicker in Huttese. "Mighty Rejekk wishes you to journey to an obscure planet of great danger known as Barab 1. It is an irradiated wasteland and uninhabitable in the daytime, and just barely tolerable at night. Severe torrential downpours. Vicious predators. You will be delivering a shipment of blaster cannons and grenades to a strong tribe of Barabel, so that they may wipe out a rival tribe. Complete this task, and you will be greatly rewarded. Not only with credits, but with something relevant to your situation..." Karter raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" Rejekk snapped his stubby fingers, and a small cylinder was brought out, and the droid opened it. Karter stared at the drawing. It was a drawing of a curved hilt lightsaber. "I presume you have the scematic that goes with that drawing. One question...how? The Jedi guard such knowledge jealousy." "You are aware of the recent bombing of Tython?" The droid inquired. Karter had heard something about that. Satele Shan herself had been killed in it. And while he hoped his brother had survived, and maybe Brison, though his feelings towards her were VERY mixed, along with Inoy, for the rest, he merely regarded it as divine punishment from God, their Karma for destroying the Confederacy. To be honest, he had considered abandoning his crusade against the order then and there, but the Order needed to understand why such a thing had been rendered to their doorstep. It wasn't enough that Karma had exacted its wrath for the Jedi's hubris...the last confederate survivor had to render his own wrath before he was satisfied that the Jedi had been sufficiently punished. "I am," Karter answered. "I presume you managed to steal it?" "Not quite. When the wretched Jedi Order fled their temple, many attempted to carry multiple documents with them. Some were lightsaber schematics. When they were all captured, inside men who had managed to insert themselves into the teams responsible for cataloging all seized contraband and equipment seized documents also. As some were relatively unsecured, photos were taken before put into storage as originally intended. This was one of those documents," the droid finished. "As Rejekk is aware of your nature as a Dark Jedi, he is prepared to reward you with this should your mission on Barab be successful." Karter bowed. "I accept your mission. When do I leave?" "As soon as possible. Rest first, and avail yourself of our resident merchants on the second floor," the droid answered as cases of credits were dropped at Karters feet by surrounding guards. It was time to go shopping.
  6. Name: Iman Zana Gender: Female Species: Rutian Twi’lek Rank: Jedi Padawan Date of Birth: 3649 BBY Appearance: Iman Zana is of a roughly average build for her people, at about six feet tall and weighing roughly one-hundred fifty pounds. Due to her being a Rutian Twi’lek, her skin is a dark blue color. She has a prominent nose and strong jawline, which conveys to some both ambition and motivation. While her eyes are typically calm, they are a cold steel grey color, and often her expression is one of someone that is generally lost in thought. She wears a traditional Twi’lek head ornament above the browline, and her lips have been tattooed permanently black, giving her a distinct look while remaining both understated and conservative. Around her neck is another traditional piece, a large gold and ivory collar that is representative of her Twi’lek heritage. Possessions: Iman, as a Jedi, carries with her a single lightsaber staff that she constructed during her time as a Jedi Initiate. It is a fairly austere weapon, possessing a green blade and little ornamentation save for the leather that she bound tightly around the grip. She is rarely if ever seen without it clipped to her belt. For clothing, Iman typically wears a pair of reddish-brown leather pants, and a jacket of the same color and material with a sleeveless undershirt worn beneath that is tucked into the pants. The legs of the pants are then tucked into a pair of durable black boots that are roughly knee height and look as if they were meant to be worn in more rough and rocky terrain like Ryloth. Her Jedi Robes are worn when the occasion calls for it. They are dark brown with a hood, and tie off at the waist. As well as her lightsaber, Iman carries another piece that connects her to her heritage, a small and simple Twi’lek dagger that is holstered in her left boot. There is nothing particularly special about the construction, the blade is straight and only about six inches long, and the hilt is carved wood with a pommel that carries perhaps the only ornamentation afforded to it, the symbol of the Jedi Order. The weapon was a gift given to her by a family of Twi’lek on Coruscant, whom she had helped track down and return their missing son. She never uses it to fight, and it is there more as a piece of utility equipment more than anything else, used to cut bindings, prepare food, and other really rather mundane activities. Personality: Iman, as a Jedi Padawan, has established herself as a firm believer in a pacifist philosophy. To that end, she feels the Jedi, as keepers of the peace, should not be relied upon as soldiers for the Republic, but as a defense against the incursion of the Sith and the Empire. Despite her love of peace and tranquility, she knows that the Sith do not share this philosophy, and so she has accepted that in order for the Jedi and the Republic to achieve peace they must be prepared to make war when they are called upon. In doing so, Iman has chosen to focus on non-lethal and low-lethality methods for dealing with threats to the lives of others and herself, and will only elect to kill if there is no other recourse in the moment. Much like others of her race, she is generous almost to a fault. When meeting people she has never met before she often spends time finding what she hopes to be a good gift for anyone that invites her into their home or offers their time to speak with her. She is a gracious host when she can be, preparing food and a warm space for guests in her small room in the Jedi Temple. Time spent with visitors and good company is time well spent, and she is not one to turn away a visitor when the opportunity arises. Another facet of her generosity is in the time she spends with the sick and injured that are brought to the Jedi Temple. While she is no healer herself, a friendly face and reassuring presence willing to give their time to assist the temple healers, in her mind, shows those who are being cared for, that the Jedi Order is a cohesive unit, with all hands working toward a better more peaceful galaxy. Iman herself is curious about what good she could do with the healing arts, though she will follow whatever path the Force has lain for her. In the end, all she wants to do is help bring light to a suffering galaxy, and represent the Jedi Order as best she possibly can wherever and however she is needed. Skills, Abilities and Talents: Iman is a woman that is quite average physically. She has lean muscle from the work she has done in practicing the Broken Gate martial art, as well as pursuing the standard physical fitness recommendations for an active Padawan learner. While she is not overly strong, she is not weak by any means, and can hold her own for a respectable amount of time before having to stop to rest. For her age, and her build, she is perfectly adequate, if not just a little bit more cardiologically healthy. It is for these reasons that conflicts, should they arise, should be dealt with quickly lest she physically tire herself out fighting defensively. Should a fight prove to last longer than she is comfortable with she will use what remains of her physical energy to flee from battle to recuperate and plan another method with which to solve issues requiring battle. In contrast to her average strength, she possesses quite good reflexes and speed. While she is no blur, and she is not capable of outpacing those who have dedicated their time to becoming the quickest she is no slouch. This developed in tandem with her study in Form III, as blaster deflection was a heavy focus of Soresu and the quicker one could react to the danger the more likely one would be to not only spare themselves the wound, but their compatriots as well. In a galaxy where the majority of its inhabitants are armed with some kind of blaster, it was a purely pragmatic choice, but one she had enjoyed so far as it has allowed her to continue studying the Jedi arts while also choosing a form of study that allows her to remain calm in the heat of battle. Iman’s greatest ally is her mind. Her connection to the Force is adequate, but where her strength lies is her ability to control herself in the face of adversity. Her faith in the guiding words of the Jedi Code has allowed her a good measure of resilience against fear, anger, and hate. She has a firm belief that the Light can and will help her overcome any obstacle, and that standing not just with the Light, but in the Light is the reason she has yet to feel any pull from the Dark Side of the Force. Biography: Iman was born in 3659 BBY on the planet Ryloth and raised by her Uncle Radat until the age of nine. His gambling addiction coupled with his abusive behavior prompted her to run away from him, leaving behind the only home she knew for the streets of Lessu. She was freed from his tyrannical treatment, but in the same instance had to accept that she was now homeless and had to scrape out a living for herself on a planet that sold many of their own kind into slavery. By the time she was ten she had learned how to eke out a life for herself, traveling through the alleyways and avoiding large crowds except for when she had to try and get food or money. Learning how to pick pockets and locks to steal from those more fortunate was not something she was proud of, but life found a way and she did what she had to do to feed herself and keep herself from ending up enslaved to be sent off to Hutt space. At age eleven, her life changed. In slinking between alleys and shadows, Iman had begun to follow a strange robed visitor to Ryloth. She had never seen a man like him before, but visitors always came with money. Unfortunately the moment she made her move to snatch something from his pocket, he turned around and looked right down at her. It was the first time in a large crowd someone had caught her, and it paralyzed her with fear. What surprised her was the smile on his face, and the offer he extended to her. Something about him put her at ease, made her feel at peace, so she accepted the meal she was given and the condition that she listen to what he had to tell her while she ate. He introduced himself as Raxos, a Jedi Knight that came to Ryloth to search for candidates for Jedi training. To him it was no accident that they crossed paths, and should she want to come with him to Coruscant she could be trained as a Jedi as well. She agreed, and later that day they departed for the Core Worlds. Iman had some trouble as a Jedi Initiate, and from the start showed that she still harbored some of her resentment and anger toward her Uncle subconsciously. She was competitive in learning Shii-Cho and Broken Gate, and often became more aggressive than she should have been. The pivot came when she had her arm broken by a sparring partner, not out of aggression on their part, but out of self-defense for the overt aggression she showed. Raxos visited her while she was in the care of the temple healers and spoke to her at length about the Jedi Code. What she had not learned, or refused to learn out of stubbornness was that on Coruscant, in the Jedi Temple, life was not like it had been on Ryloth. Living in the past was dangerous, and her anger and bitterness were a sure path to the Dark Side. The lesson, though short and to the point, shook her. Iman had been living in the past, and treated even her peers as if she had been in competition when she should have been there to better her fellow initiates just as she was bettered by them. Her success, was the success of the Jedi Order, and their success as well. It was selfish of her to behave in such a way, and it was there that she let go of her resentment, the past that bound her to Ryloth, and found renewed purpose to live in peace and harmony with those around her. With the teachings of the Jedi now resonating in her better than ever, her focus shifted from attempting to one-up her fellow initiates, to cooperating in training exercises, and learning from her mistakes rather than blaming them on others. Iman worked hard, staying physically fit and mentally sharp. She trained in Broken Gate, she learned her lessons in Shii-Cho and Soresu practice, and she even started grasping a better and more accurate control of the Force. She knows she has only just begun, but learning a hard lesson granted her the clarity to see her calling lay with the Jedi, and with making the galaxy a brighter and kinder place. Character Skills and Abilities: Melee Combat Martial Arts: Basic Broken Gate Lightsabers Novice Single Saber Novice Saber Staff Form I: Shii-Cho Form I - Novice Shii-Cho Form III: Soresu Form III - Novice Soresu: Stealth and Survival Novice Stealth Novice Survival Enhancement Force Power Force Jump Astral Force Power Force Sense Telepathy Psychokinesis Force Power Force Push Final Notes: Small personal request, that Iman has Intermediate Broken Gate, as a point of emphasis on the character and how her preference for ending a conflict is through non-lethal means first and foremost, and resorts to more drastic measures such as using a lightsaber if diplomacy and non-lethal means have failed.
  7. "The traps ain't been used in years. Kemark mostly has sonic mines where the cache is located, precisely because he was afraid of Jedi accidentally coming across the cache again. I don't know precise locations. He also stored blaster turrets down there that he built himself. And I don't think those were the only mercs he hired. He probably has more in those tunnels, waiting to try and hem you in," Anatoly explained as he drew the picture she requested, handing her a datapad containing a map of the tunnel routes. "What about this cache of artifacts? How large are we talking here?" Brison asked. "Its...what do I say? Its...large..." "How large?" "Large enough that me and Kemark have been clearing it out for over twenty two years every eight months and we are only halfway done. We could have cleared it out long ago if we had gone at it nearly every day, but Kemark is paranoid...and not without good reason. It would look a little suspicious hanging around an abandoned theater. We had to set up extraction routes, pay off local authorities, arrange for selling the artifacts...never the same tricks twice. And then Wyl had to go and set up his dumb play..." "You called him by his first name...you know him?" "Rudolf was his father. Rudolf Torpor. Whoa, before you go jumping to conclusions we never involved Wyl in this...he doesn't even know I'm on Coruscant. But him renovating the theater came at a bad time. We were about to arrange for a small shipment of artifacts to be extracted and sold. Kemark...he just wanted to scare the production off." "So he arranged for the body to be found at the bottom of the theater floor? This is starting to sound like that holo-toon with that kath hound that solves mysteries," Brison snarked. "What? We didn't know there was a body there...Kemark started sabotaging construction crew equipment. When Wyl persisted, he killed one of the crewman earlier today," Anatoly answered, clearly puzzled. "Hey, you said there was a body there...maybe its Rudolf. We left it down there, buried it in the cache...after the boy killed him, it would have been too dangerous to try moving the corpse in case it got spotted in transit. "About this 'boy' that killed him...you know anything else beyond his appearance?" Anatoly looked at her and shuddered. "That...creep...its like he was our karma or something. If nothing else, he was Rudolf's." "Who was he? Where did he come from?" "I...don't know...I think...maybe...he was Corellian." Brison raised an eyebrow, even as part of her stilled. "Corellian?" "Yeah. Drawl was faint but it was there. Rudolf and him crossed paths when he accidentally came across one of our shipments. Rudolf was even more paranoid then Kemark. He sent mercs to kill him...that padawan too. Things got worse when that master got involved. She followed them into the tunnels. By some miracle she never learned of the cache's existence. Rudolf met his death down there. The boy tortured him when he learned what Rudolf had done. Even that Padawan who was running with him got creeped out. Me and Kemark didnt dare go back for two years after we buried Rudolf." Brison was more concerned by the moment. Something terrible had happened all those years ago. "Were you monitoring him? The boy and the Padawan?" "Not really. The droid's might have a record in their databanks but those things are...a problem." "What did you and this Kemark use them for?" "The droid's have programs inside them that open the security door we installed to protect the cache. We keep them with us, both to act as secret monitors during deals, and to open the cache whenever we want." "I found one modified to be an assassin droid." "The cop model. We had to retire it after the boy defeated it the first time out. I'm surprised it was even working." "He defeated an assassin droid?" "This kid was hardcore, Jedi," Anatoly snorted. "Nothing we threw at him worked. All it did was piss him off." Brison went silent as she listened to Anatoly bury himself. "You're telling me an awful lot Anatoly. Enough to make sure you go to prison for a long time. Maybe forever. What gives?" Anatoly sighed, leaning against the wall. "I ain't no criminal mastermind," Anatoly said. "Its all fallen apart at the end. Only hope I got now is cooperation. I never wanted to be part of violent crime...but the money was too good. It was just too good. The cache...it did things...changed us. Changed Rudolf. It was large...so...golden." "And it made you take leave of your senses. You were...tempted. And you finally realized how bad when your so called friend sent men to kill you," Brison finished. "I'm not sure the court will be so sympathetic as I am. You may feel regret now, but hindsight is always twenty twenty. But if you really are recognizing you were wrong, then I encourage you to tell the police everything. If you tell the truth, I will ask the court to show mercy. But the punishment is likely to be harsh regardless." Anatoly nodded, handing her the finished drawing. Brison commed the remaining cops to come and arrest him and left the room, following Thuria back to the ship. Inoy greeted them asking what was up. Yolin was still working on the cop droid. "Well, Inoy, there is a cache of Pius Dea artifacts hidden under that theater. And Torpor doesn't seem to know anything about it, yet his father was murdered underneath the place years before, by this...boy..." she said, showing the drawing of the teenager. She stiffened in surprise. "No...it can't be..." she trailed. The drawing was of a teenager with dark hair, messy and covering his ears and the back of his neck. He had a hard, calculating stare that was all too familiar with a strong, angular jaw. He looked to be about sixteen or seventeen. Brison put the drawing the nearby table as the ship lifted off and the droid flew it back to the landing pad location that led to the Theater a few levels down. Brison led the pair to the turbolift down to the theater's level, still trying to decide whether or not the person who was in the drawing was who she thought it was. It was weird enough Coventry's old master had been involved in all this. If what that drawing told was the truth this was the absolute freakiest level of serendipity she had ever been part of. "There are probably guys waiting for us in the sublevels. If they are as cramped as I think, we'll have to be extremely careful--" Inoy took off running and Brison spotted the hooded figure running also. She sighed. Always one more fire to put out, which was rather ironic considering her own abilities. She soon caught up down the street the hooded figure had run. "Inoy, for future reference, don't go running like that. What if that had been the person who made those lightsabers we found in the theater? You could have been turned into diced Nautolan. No one wants to know what diced Nautolan looks like. It probably smells of saltwater. And sadness," she admonished gently. "Think before acting next time, ok?" Thuria asked her own questions and then Brison got involved. She also noticed something. She couldn't really sense the woman. "You are trying to conceal your presence in the force but you aren't good at it. Who are you?" Brison demanded. The figure lifted the hood off her head. It was the Togrutan woman. The one Thuria had spotted earlier. "Ah," Brison remarked, folding her arms. "Thuria's flower girl, I presume? Tell me, how is it we encounter you twice in a row during a VERY bizarre day?" "Hold on, Jedi, I can explain," The Togrutan remarked. To Brison's surprise, the woman's form shifted to that of a pale skinned woman with all amber orbs for eyes, no pupils and blue, short cut hair. She was clad in a green bodyglove., underneath her dark cloak. "A shapeshifter?" Brison said, clearly surprised now. She rarely encountered her own kind. This was about the second Shi'ido she had ever met. "Duh," the woman said. "My name's Ledra. I'm...a private investigator. I work for Wyl Torpor," she admitted. "What?" Brison asked sternly. "Strange Mr. Torpor saw fit not to mention you..." "That's because I was working a seperate case from his little discovery in the theater," Ledra sighed. "Or, at least, I thought I was." "Why were you working for Torpor?" Brison inquired. "What case did he have you working?" "The disappearance of his father, Rudolf Torpor. It wasn't just his lifelong dream that brought him back to Coruscant after all these years," Ledra answered, pacing. "His father disappeared here years ago, about seven and a half years after the sacking. He never knew why. I used to be his girlfriend. We...parted ways. It was his job. It took him everywhere and so did mine...we just didn't have time for eachother. Anyway, he gets a tip that his father might be found in the area around his beloved theater." "A tip?" Brison asked. "From who?" "It was anonymous. Believe me, I tried to find out myself," Ledra answered with a frown. "But he seemed to believe it, and I always kinda felt bad about how the relationship didn't work out...so I agreed to look into it. "Did you see who offed the construction worker?" Brison asked, doing her best to ignore their similarities. "No. I think whoever did it was using a stealth field though. I'm certain of it," Ledra answered truthfully. "After the girl here spotted me, I relocated to a building across the street. Saw a shimmer right after everyone cleared out. That construction worker who got offed? He'd gone back inside. I think he had seen something. Maybe it was the guy in the field. Maybe he saw something he shouldn't have." Brison paced about herself, trying to think. "The droids. You know who reprogrammed them?" Ledra blinked, frowning. "Those droids...got a look at some of them. Even got into that place in the underworks. About five minutes ahead of those mercs who busted in. They've had some type of one way transponder installed. They had all been taken for maintenance by an expert in these particular types, as they were one of a kind. A Typhus Yolin--" Brison was bolting back to the turbolift with Force Enhanced speed, yelling at Thuria to keep questioning Ledra and telling Inoy to follow her back to the ship. *** Brison rushed aboard the ship, trying to sense Yolin out. Nothing. He wasn't a Force User, she knew that much. But he was an exceptionally good liar. Exceptional enough to lie right to a Jedi's face and sell it. She had detected no falsehood in his responses. He must have great control over his emotions and had used exact wording. He was gone. The place where he had been working on the droid was deserted. Yolin had cleared out. Brison saw the drawing she had left on the nearby table had been overturned. It now had writing on it. Brison picked it up, reading it. I think it was time I bowed out gracefully. You don't really need me at this point. You have everything you need to put an end to this old evil I discovered. I'm not the bad guy in all this, in case you are wondering. I'd worked as a restoration expert on those droids for a long time before I discovered their hidden purpose. What that purpose had led to. And I had been an enthusiast of everything related to Thoden Geist for a long time and couldn't stand how these wonderful relics of his legacy had been perverted by a greedy, murderous few. So I resolved to do something about it, as I had so long ago at the hotel Red Sandpanther. I hacked the droids programs, ripped them from their owners, left breadcrumbs for you to follow. I was the one who used them to open the underground cache of relics, where I discovered Rudolf's body, buried. Beaten. Broken. I set up the little tomb you found him in to call attention to the nature of that place. I hope you will forgive the morbid manner in which I chose to alert the authorities...I've always had a flare for the theatrical. By the time you read this, I will be well on my way off world, out of the system. I think I'lI go to ground for a while. Somewhere quiet, where I will be free to contemplate the compulsions that drove me to act out. To contemplate whether I have done any good. I hope you succeed. The droids will be waiting at the Cache entrance, deep underground. Sincerely, Typhus Yolin. Brison was silent after reading it. She then turned to look for Inoy. She had to show him the drawing. If she recognized him, even as young as he looked, then it wasn't just her.
  8. Holle's chanted ended in silence slowly as her master freed them from the ritual. There was a vast sea of Dark Side energy within the room, as if someone had opened a valve and allowed it to flow in guided toward their voices. The power they had channeled through the Force had taken its effect. The feeling she had was one of power, and it gave her a fierce confidence in the place of the melancholy that composed most of her moods. Holle stood up from the circle and discarded the robe where she stood to answer to the gift she had been given in souls to torment and ultimately destroy. She had a thirst for power and being able to lord over the pathetic misery of weaklings before snuffing them out like a lit candle was a very rare pleasure and one she had not enjoyed since seizing her freedom as Vitiate's Empire fell in the war. What she had to do now was make a choice. There were choices, but she was immediately drawn to the Jedi. She remembered being humiliated by a Jedi on Alderaan and now was the time to take that anger out as power over another's life. Fewer things held more charm than revenge, and she hated the Jedi more than anything for how she had been defeated and discarded. Holle walked directly at the cage and spoke to the rattled man, "If the Jedi Code was how you live your life and it led you to this point, then was use was the Code?" "You don't have to do this..." He said, feebly. The resolve most Jedi had was broken by the power her master had in the Force, that he channeled into the room that affected both the prisoners and his apprentices. Holle stared at him, her yellow-orange eyes firm and unblinking. A very small smile came over her face, "People always say that." She said quietly, crouching before the cage to get closer to his face. There was a great amount of joy in her heart in seeing someone imprisoned and practically begging for mercy. By the time she was done, he would not be begging for mercy, but for power and the Dark Side. She wanted to do something more devastating to him than kill him, she wanted to see him crumble from the light and embrace the true power in the Force, in the Dark Side, and that the Sith were the way. Holle called out to her master, "The Jedi, I want him for myself. I want to shatter his mind, I want to break the light from his spirit and draw him into the darkness. This man will become a supplicant to the Sith Order in time, that would be far better than simply killing the him, wouldn't you say so my Lord?"
  9. Last week
  10. An eerie silence fell over the chamber as the 'fog' of the Dark Side condensed even further, completely drowning out the outside world, and even silencing the whimpers and irregular breathing of the caged prisoners. It became so oppressive, in fact, that the only sound Verrin was really aware of was that of his voice and those of his apprentices, in unison, speaking the tongue of the Ancients and acting as a sort of verbal bell that attracted the power of the Dark Side. In his mind, Verrin likened it to one of those gimmicky static electricity balls that were sold in variety stores. The air inside the glass ball was charged, and when one pressed a finger to the glass, an arc of 'lightning' showed inside and followed the magnetic attraction. Verrin grinned. He remembered receiving one of those balls in his childhood, on Winter Fete, when his parents learned of his interest in the sciences. But like that holiday so many years ago, the Sith progressed past the point of intoned mantras, ritual circles, and blood offerings. in modern times, the Sith had evolved to the point where they could attract the Dark Side like this with their minds and wills alone. His apprentices, whether they knew it or not, were already skilled enough to harness this power in that way. But the practice of performing this whole series of steps should help them see the patterns in the Force, so that they too could manipulate it in such a way. Many of the Dark Side powers of the mind used similar contact, and learning these basics should help his 'daughters' find the path more easily in the future. The grin didn't leave his face at that thought, even if it had to move as he chanted the words in repetition. 'Daughters'. He hadn't sired either of them, though he was certainly old enough to. They hadn't chosen him either, when he'd descended upon Korriban's Academy. But the Force had found a way to bring them together, for now, until they were exhausted from his lessons, or some other Lord offered them something shinier and newer. He might live to see them move on, as he had with Darth Tanit, or Darth Akasha. He might see them perish from the separation, as he had with Muriel Y'ar. Or, he might never know what became of them, as he had (so far) with Vessker. and of course, there was the possibility that they would kill him, and he'd never know what happened to them thanks to that. He smirked, and the Dark Side gave him no visions of the future. But it did affect them all - every last person in the room, and likely some of those outside it. The prisoners fell to weeping or crying, and even the Jedi, with his passable willpower could not maintain his hold on his faith. Even he began to sniffle, and then to beg, asking the Sith to stop this madness. He felt the presence of the Dark Side more strongly than those who could not, and it frightened him with its vastness and power. It constricted him like a serpent, laboring his breathing, and making him wish for a weapon that he might use to fall upon, and end all of this. Meanwhile, the chanting Sith in the circle were awash with power, the Dark Side caressing them like lovers, or a warm, soapy bath. Their breathing came more easily to them, their heart rate quickened with adrenaline, and their minds sharpened with focus. They were confident, and sure of themselves, and were they in combat, they likely would have felt empowered to battle opponents beyond their own level of training. Verrin's eyes were open, and he observed his apprentices with a critical eye, looking for any overt signs of the effect upon them. Confident in his own abilities, he used his telepathic power to communicate to each of them, "You have done well, my apprentices. You may exit the circle when you are ready - I can maintain this power for the moment, alone - but do continue the chant as you move about. Go and take the 'ritual' portion of all of this to its conclusion by executing the prisoners, sacrificing them to the Dark Side in any way that suits you. Be the angels of death. Revel in the power of the Dark Side, and enjoy the benefits of choosing the Sith ways over those of the pathetic Jedi. Happy Winter Fete, my dears."
  11. Thuria nodded. She had hoped there was something more to the interrogation, but Brison had this. She did, didn't she? And yet, why did she feel there was more to the interrogation... more that could have been said. Nonetheless, she followed her Togrutan friend back to the ship, explaining what she found and everything in between. There still wasn't any sighting of the Togrutan woman with the flowers. Maybe she gave up or... No. How could this be? There were yellow flowers in her cabin. What were they doing here? More importantly, why were they here? This was something she would have to ask Brison and Inoy, just after following her Togrutan friend after Inoy. There he was again. Maybe he knew something about the flowers. "What do you know about the Togrutan woman with the flowers?" Thuria asked the person who had recently escaped. "What's her story? How does she relate to all of this?
  12. Odrania heard the snarls and her red blade went active. "What is it?" she hissed. "It's a...beast..." Coventry answered, thoughtlessly. "Oh, that's a lot of comfort, you not knowing," Odrania spoke. Coventry paused. His original answer had been "I don't know." Odrania had not acknowledged his new answer. So he had an answer as to whether or not he could affect this dream realm, at least, as far as that went. But it still didn't provide an answer as to what he needed to do to escape it. For now...it seemed he had to go along with it. Coventry ventured forward as the lights cut. Headhunter's doing. There had been no choice back then. He had tried to end it peacefully but every moment Headhunter continued to function more rioters died. "Odrania, start destroying every server you can," Coventry hissed, knowing what came next. He went forward shoving his red blade into the nearest server tower. Alarms sounded. The snarling got louder. "Intruder Alert," Headhunter announced. "Central control breached. All available assault teams requested." Coventry chopped through another server tower. "Prisoner Six psychological profile: Withdrawn, insular. Convinced of his ability to overcome Vostok Facility Mission Parameters. Refuses to submit. Intense resilience to psychological trauma, scoring higher than all other inmates. Telepathic assaults generally ineffective. One recorded incident resulted in fatal stroke for interrogator. Emotionally distant," the A.I. noted dispassionately. "Telepathic link to master exploited without success. Analysis of genetic structure suggests a predisposition to schizotypal disorders. Likely only remaining avenue to successfully breaking down prisoner is disillusionment and even that may not turn him to desired cause. Sexual preference unknown, despite repeated interrogatives designed to shame prisoner. Suggest immediate disposal. But the warden never listened. He was determined to cut the knot, so to speak." Coventry ignored the subtle taunt from the machine intelligence, cutting down more towers, while Odrania did the same. The turrets hidden in the ceiling popped out, attempting to target and fire on the two force users, only to explode. "Error. Unknown corruption in program. Suspected sabotage. Requesting maintenance after intruder disposal. "Thanks Mikhail," Coventry said, having not said it before. The Riots simply wouldn't have happened without his help. One man with a conscience COULD make a difference. Mikhail had been the real hero that day, not Carra or Coventry. Part of his insides twisted at what would happen at the riots conclusion. He fought it off, trying to focus on the positive, whatever was happening, it wasn't real. He took small comfort in the fact that as vivid as all this was, it couldn't truly happen again. So he focused on the present, cutting away at another tower. Headhunter had likely had multiple defenses to stop this scenario. The fact he couldn't activate any of them was testament to how effective Mikhail's sabotage was. It was starting to show with Headhunter itself. "You shall go to the fiery furnace of a man's dying heart. A place where only broken love and lost faith and anarchy reign," the Machine said, it's previously calm and computerized voice going erratic, its damaged intelligence warping with nonsensical musings. "The mysterious, unknown, elsewhere shall beckon the flaming sword to be quenched in its waves." Coventry sliced through another tower, ignoring how the dying machines musings seemed to make a twisted sort of sense, though what that was in context to was anyone's guess. The machine was breaking down, saying whatever nonsense jumping up its circuits. "All you know shall disappoint you." One sliced tower toppled into another, sending sparks flying and starting fires. "Is this my Karma?" Odrania got bored and just threw her lightsaber. The arc the red blade made sliced through the remaining towers on her end. "Sorry, that was getting REALLY creepy," she joked. She screamed as the beast leapt out of the darkness, just as Coventry expected. He saw it. The beast. It was scrawny, with a palid white color. It was naked with a wrinkled, barely feminine shape. He thought it had been tortured, whatever it was. It didn't even seem like a person anymore, despite having obviously been a twi'lek. He charged, kicking the snarling beast off of her, dragging Odrania up. The lightsaber was tugged out of his hand with a crude Force pull as the animalistic prisoner leapt on to him. Odrania tried to swing her saber and kill it only for the beast to crudely Force Push her into a wall. Odrania hit her head, knocking her out cold. And Coventry was forced to contend with the creature. The face was as wrinkled and disgusting and wooden as he remembered, but that only added to his surprise as he fought its animal strength. The creature scratched and clawed at him and gave him a look he had never been able to explain until now. It was a look of recognition. Hateful, murderous, dementia riddled, but recognition. And then it went back to trying to bite his face. For his part, Coventry had been too focused on trying to survive the first time around. Now, he was calmer, knowing ultimately it wasn't real, and he found he recognized it also. It was the creature He thought Carra had slain on Hoth.
  13. Kal nodded. "Understood." Well, if he was to get somewhere in life as a smuggler, this would have to do. Taking his time, as much time as there could be, he set the ship in autopilot and charged off towards his cabin. He sighed. Well, he made a little effort in decorating his room, with some pictures of his friends, who he abandoned and stunned back home. It wasn't the best reminder, but it would do. At least, he knew what would happen if he returned home to Alderaan... he would be in trouble for sure. The police uniform certainly gave way to a more durable asset. Besides, the given color choice, which was black, the uniform fortunately had that vest. Well, at least Karter was sensible there. He strapped on the clothes, checked the suit twice to make sure his chest wasn't too bulky and returned to the cockpit. In haste, he flipped the autopilot switch to manual control. Good. That was done. Now, he needed to find the docking bay and reach the planet's surface, beforehand. He looked above his head. It had gone from inky black to a swelling on sunlight. Well, this was it. This was where his smuggling expertise would come in handy. He looked around for his employer. Surely, Karter would want to know they had arrived. "Karter, we're here." They were in the docking bay. He pressed the button for the landing gear. The ship docked with ease. He sighed. So far, so good. Now on to get those weapons.
  14. "I don't know, Inoy. See if you can look into what Wyl Torpor's doing," came Thuria's calm voice. "Got it. Padawan Chipper, signing out." He grinned to himself for a moment, then sobered. He took a breath to centre himself, and ordered their droid to prep the engines for flight back to the theater. It let out a series of sounds which he interpreted as probably being something about, "We just came from there!" "Yeah, well, we're just running around all over the place today. No rest for the weary and all that." "Beep-boop-wheep," was the sarcastic reply. "Go on," the Padawan grumbled. He heard a set of footsteps, and braced for a moment, but it was only Thuria and Brison. "Hey. Find anything interesting?" The other two filled him in on what they'd found, and he nodded. "Well, let's get going then." Once they had set down again, the trio headed for the theater, but caught sight of someone lurking in the shadows of a nearby alley. "Hey!" Inoy called, but the figure ran off. Inoy rolled his eyes and put on a burst of Force-enhanced speed, dashing ahead of them to block off the cowled person's escape, but not entering their personal space. Even with a limp from the earlier fight, the Force made it easily possible to outrun them. He nodded to Brison and Thuria, who were coming up behind. "Please, stop. We don't want to hurt you. Who are you?"
  15. The pair climbed, the shouts of fighting and whine of blaster fire and gunshot cracks carrying up the shaft of the turbolift. Odrania climbed quickly, and Coventry just a few rungs below her. He went a little slower than he originally had, as he wasn't looking forward to what happened next. He didn't understand what was happening, not at all. The trial was like nothing he had imagined. If this was "facing the mirror" than it was the most cracked, warped mirror possible. He had gotten hints of it in that droid bunker on Tython...a world of flames. Flames of the mind. His mind. In flames. He hadn't understood how to deal with it then, and he did not now. But this was all happening for a reason. He had to trust that the Force had its reasons. That was about the only thing he COULD trust at this point, and hope he wasn't stuck forever in some labyrinthine hell made of his own subconscious. But what was the point of reliving all this? He was distracted by the frustrated snarl of Odrania, who had reached the turbolift door to the level they were supposed to be at. Coventry heard the whine of the turbolift start up. Headhunter had planned that figuring they would find some way to stop it in case it went shooting up with them in it. Odrania heard it first, getting out her lightsaber and shoving it through the door, hacking a square into it, where she could jump through easily after Force pushing the cut away pieces as the turbolift rocketed upward. Coventry hurried up ward as soon as she was through, barely getting past the hole as the turbolift shot past where he had been only a second before. He wondered what would have happened if he had gone off script, stayed on the service ladder...but decided it might not be wise to test whether he could die in this dream. No sense in taking chances, especially since he wasn't entirely clear what was going on. Was he on script or had something gone horribly wrong? Odrania snorted. "You're quick, I'll give you that," she grumbled, looking around her. The room was dark save for the blue running lights of dozens of server towers, circular in shape. They headed upward to a domed ceiling, and the place felt cold, refrigerated. Odrania rubbed her arms as she headed forward to a large, circular computer terminal with a large screen. Coventry knew this next part, and steeled himself. Of all his memories of the Vostok Riot, this was one of the worst. The avatar that served as Headhunter's visual representation, a demon's face wreathed in flames, popped onto the screen. The face was red skinned with yellow eyes, and large black, ram like horns with a slender, sharp and pointed nose. "Prisoner Six," it noted in a hollow, computerized voice. "This scenario was not unanticipated." "Then you know why I am here." "I recommended to the Warden you be executed a few days after you arrived. He did not listen. An error on his part. Your defiance amused him." "Lots of things amuse that prick," Coventry snorted. "Today will not be one of those things. I confess, I am uncertain as to whether you are alive or not...you clearly pass the sentience test. But whatever the case you are still a machine. I don't think I will lose much sleep destroying you. However, as I do not want it said that I made no attempt to end this peacefully, I will offer you the opportunity to do the right thing and disconnect yourself from the security and comm systems." "You're kidding, right? It's a computer," Odrania derided. "If it really is alive, I want to show it more mercy than it ever showed me," Coventry answered without thinking about it. "You know I can't do that, Prisoner Six," Headhunter said. "I thought as much." "I anticipated someone would breach my inner brain. I had a recently acquired prisoner moved here," Headhunter announced. Coventry heard a snarl in the distance, remembered the encounter in horrific detail. "Odrania," he said. "Get your blade out."
  16. As chat reaches into its last two weeks, I'm opening up permissions for people to kick each other from the chat room, in a last hurrah. However chat is broken still, and impossible to read the bottom line, so the joy might be lessened.

    1. Kure

      Kure

      Implying people still use old chat - Discord is so much better, pls.

    2. Empress Kitty
  17. Im still in too - in case ya didnt see my message in chat bout it.
  18. Setie wished she could have read the Kaar’s mind. While he certainly wasn’t trying to hide his expression she couldn’t tell if he was pleased or not from her answers. It made her nervous and hope dearly that the little smile he wore for a second wasn’t one meaning he was about to use her blood to paint something. Just the thought made her pull back into herself more...which only made Atrox laugh? "Understanding the enemy is half the battle, Andal. You've revealed that behind your rather pathetic demeanor, there is something stirring, something powerful - yet you have yet to fully grasp it and cling to it." She couldn’t help but sigh at the first comment, frustration once again filling her. Everyone seemed to think Setie had power yet she didn’t see it. She supposed that was what the Kaar meant by she had yet to grasp and cling to it. Frankly she thought it would have been more helpful if someone would just fracking give her an instruction manual on this because she was getting tired of hearing she was powerful and not seeing it anywhere. She could not however help but cringe as Atrox told her not to refer to Cideon as Emperor. How was she suppose to know Cideon had been his master? She had not exactly been around when Cideon had ruled after all, she had been hiding on Nar Shaddaa. Setie decided it was better to just nod and remind herself not to talk about the man again unless she had to. She didn’t trust her voice to work under the terror. She continued to nod as Atrox spoke about her answer. She agreed that knowledge wasn’t everything. She had grown up on Korriban and learned well but she’d never been able to apply anything on top of being limited in her learning. Theories were one thing but you needed experience and experiments to learn and stretch. All the knowledge in the galaxy was useless if you didn’t use it. It had been one of the reasons she had left after all. She had wanted to get out and live instead of constantly stagnating. The Kaar shifted topics then, speaking of his other guest of honor. Setie was confused about it as he grabbed the bloody gloves and headed for the room he’d revealed. Her nerves increased but she managed to hold onto them as he commented that he hoped she hadn’t eaten in the last few hours. She followed nervously, edgy from Atrox’s demeanor and the smell of blood that hit her along with less pleasant stenches. Setie blinked as she took in the sight on the table. Her brain already cataloging wounds by severity. She could tell the man wasn’t dying. Shock was nasty but from what she could see he was tended for that as well. She might have missed that entirely if it had not been for the blue tinge on his lips showing issues with blood flow. From all the cuts however that was hardly surprising, not to mention the removal of implants from the look of things. Confusion crossed her face as Atrox said Khul spoke highly of her. She had to take a moment to place what he was talking about and then she paled a bit from the memory. “I-I didn’t ...uh what I mean is-” She was tongue tied from things. She certainly did not believe she was the reason the Empire escaped. It was complete luck that she hadn’t gotten them all sucked into space and killed honestly. She had not done anything worthy of praise but then Khul couldn’t have known that. He was from an older empire, like she was. He probably thought her intending everything she did. She had to struggle against that internal voice that always sounded like her mother scolding her for pretending and telling her how dead she was when the Kaar found out what a lie it was. She had no idea how to correct it though without admitting to gross incompetence and she really did not want to do that. Then finally Atrox explained why she was here...or at least the overt reason. First there was panic as Setie’s brain zeroed in on the threat of being next on the table. A few things rattled as she breathed and held onto control by simple will to live. She started looking at her options in her head then even as her eyes snapped around to take everything like a wild animal looking for a way out. It was all a struggle, but she had to concede that she wasn’t getting out of here without doing what Atrox wanted. She was puzzled though on what exactly it was that he wanted. She didn’t believe for a second that Khul kept whatever information from the Kaar and she certainly did not believe that she was going to get answers that Atrox did not already get. So if he wasn’t looking to get information out of the former cyborg then what was he wanting and how was Setie figured into this? This had to be some kind of test that told Atrox something, but was it about her or about the man on the table? As she tried to remember to breathe Setie stepped closer and started looking over Khul like she would a patient. She needed to have a good idea of the damage done so she didn’t end up killing the man, at least not physically. From the look of him he was already destroyed mentally and was just waiting for the body to catch up. She recognized the demeanor of a broken person well, she’d seen it in the mirror often enough growing up after all. Khul would tell her anything, but that was the problem with torture. When you inflicted pain so much people would tell you anything to make it stop, that was why you had trained interrogators who knew how to manipulate and detect the truth. This wasn’t about Khul, this was about her in some way. Biting her lip Setie shifted to Khul’s feet and elevated them just a bit. It would help with the blood flow issues he was having for a little bit. Atrox might not like it but she had something of a plan going in her head...she just hoped it was good enough. She took off her outer robe next, using it like a blanket over Khul. He seemed to register the kindness and looked puzzled up at the ceiling. She knew that pain too. She needed him to come back a little though to answer her questions otherwise she was likely not to get anything. Trying to remember some of the psychology she had studied when trying to understand people better she did her best to keep her voice light, like there wasn’t a very large and dangerous shadow towering over the pair of them watching her every move. “Hello Lyle, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Setie,” she said, hoping the first name basis might help him think of her as a friend and confide in her better. “I have some questions for you and I need you to answer them honestly ok? I’ll sense if it’s a lie and you will not like that so do be careful. I wouldn’t want to accidentally kill an esteemed guest of the Kaar here.” Khul swallowed but said nothing else, his one eye still staring up. Taking a breath in hopes of calming nerves Setie did her best to focus on Khul, trying to feel out any dishonesty she might encounter. She didn’t doubt he would be cooperative at first but at some point he was going to test his boundaries. She didn’t inspire fear like Atrox did and he’d probably think her weak enough to con. “Let’s start with some easy questions yes?” It went on for a few moments with Setie covering the basics. Occasionally she made it a point to slip in a question about the station. Those Khul resisted a small bit. She was pretty sure it was from pre-programmed behaviors of an agent trained not to speak of his mission but it might have been the mental trauma as well she supposed. She could not have claimed to know exactly so she would ease around them instead. They did however come up more frequently as she spoke, reminding him that they would get to them. Eventually the inevitable happened, Khul told a lie. Maybe it was nerves or terror or his broken mind or he was testing his boundaries and trying to come back into the fight. Setie didn’t know and short of ignoring the lie and risking Atrox’s ire she couldn’t do anything about it. He was being lenient right now and he wasn’t likely to stay that way if she veered off in a direction he didn’t care for. The person on the slab was however dead no matter what she did, and the kindest thing to do likely would have been to put him out of his misery. She couldn’t do that though, she was pretty sure Atrox would have an issue with it. So she simply sighed and shook her head at Khul like a disappointed parent. “I warned you about lying,” she said. There was no emotion in her voice as she did her best to pull herself back from what she had to do mentally. Not that she was sure what to do in the first place. Setie wasn’t use to having power over someone, any kind of power. She wasn’t use to inflicting pain on people, not when they were effectively helpless. She’d hurt others in a fight but never like this. She was a Sith though and she needed to act like it...even if it simply felt wrong. Biting her lip Setie looked to Atrox for a moment, trying to gauge if he was going to be upset by things. She couldn’t but it was habit to try and avoid potential reprisals by asking permission, even if it was silently. Still gnawing on the lip she looked back to Khul and tried to calm and center herself better. The nerves and fear in her belly were making it difficult but she could use those...she hoped. She didn’t dare cut Khul, the shock already had him in a bad spot and if she kept slicing he was likely to die from blood loss. Lightning or choking also were likely to cause to much damage to help either. “The ability to heal is the ability to harm…” she murmured under her breath quietly to herself. She’d never tried using her healing ability on someone else, but S’irakar’s words of how the dark side did not heal were true, it hurt to use that ability. At the same time though, if she could pull it off Khul would be in a better condition, and Atrox might get his “answers” still. The only one off poorly would be Khul but that couldn’t be helped. Carefully Setie pulled the Force to her, focusing on Khul’s body as she pulled the robe down enough to eye one of the gashes on his chest. Blood pulling skin from the clothe and making Khul squirm a bit. Slowly Setie applied the Force, trying to push it to Khul instead of using it on herself. It was harder to do, it felt strange in so many ways. She tried to imagine it as part lightning attack and part heal as she focused on the wound and pushed hard at the body’s natural processes. She had to muscle it along instead of letting it take it’s time. Khul gasped and then let out a wailing scream, it was such a horrible sound that Setie jumped and lost her concentration thinking she had killed the man. The wound was a knitted together some though not all of it. The flesh pulled angrily and fresh blood seeped from it. Khul blinked at her in confusion and agony. “Wh-What was that?” Setie’s wrung her hands together, trying to contain panic as she double checked Khul’s vitals. “Uh...W-Well…” she bit her lip against saying that she wasn’t entirely sure. She was never going to get Khul to answer things if he didn’t think her competent in some degree. “I closed part of your wound,” she said, deciding to stick to the facts about things and let the human mind play havoc with the unknown like it usually did. “Y-You what?” “I started fixing your wound,” Setie said, annoyed at having to repeat herself but the horror in Khul’s tone gave her an idea. “Every time you lie, I will do that again. If I fully restore you...well then I won’t be needed and the Kaar can see to your comfort again like a good host.” She wasn’t scary no, but from the expression on Khul’s face the idea of being put through the Kaar’s entertainments again was not something he wanted. This was a much better method for Setie, she wasn’t hurting the man (at least not exactly) and she didn’t have to risk killing him outright on Atrox then. “Now then, let’s talk about the station hmm?” “W-What do you want to know?” Khul asked, for once looking scared of her. It was a new thing for someone to be afraid of Setie. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with this feeling or how to even process it so for now she put it aside. “Tell me about it. Tell me about your mission. I’ll let you know when I have questions or need clarification. Remember not to lie though. You don’t want to upset our host right?” She did her best to have Khul cover everything, doing her best to keep her senses open to pick up any lies. Whenever she caught one, even if it was small, she worked on another wound until it was closed. The hard part was not so much the questions or the manipulation of tissue, it was keeping her focus. She got lost a time or two after Khul lied, fascinated by the process she was doing even if she failed a few times and trying to see how good or bad it worked without really paying attention to Khul’s screaming. She knew how to tune that out from her days working in labs after all. Other times she would sit quiet just staring at Khul, trying to get a better hold of the emotions running through her. This unnerved him but she needed it to just calm down. It was a heady thing to suddenly have power over someone, even under the pressure with Atrox breathing down her neck. Between the Kaar and her low opinion of self she managed to keep from getting overly eager on matters. It was a difficult balancing act between enjoying the moment and being frustrated that she’d never have power over someone again. Not to mention the prospect of ending up on the table still hanging over her head. Finally Setie was out of time, or at least out of questions. Khul had talked about everything she could think to ask him about, save for what he had said about herself. While she was curious she didn't think them relevant and didn't want to waste anyone's time. Sweat was running down her back from matters but even if she didn’t learn what the Kaar wanted she was pretty sure she could do the odd flesh mending again. It wasn’t much different from using tools, it was just that the Force was her tool instead of other things this time. Using her sleeve to mop her face a bit since there wasn't any rags around Setie looked to Atrox, trying hard not to fidget from nerves. “Was there anything else you had for your guest my lord? I am afraid I have exhausted any questions I can think of.” Please let it have been enough… Setie was pretty sure if she ended up on that table she wasn’t leaving as anything but a mangled corpse.
  19. Earlier
  20. I'll be sending out a group message sometime today - and a private one to Verrin to sort things out. Thanks guys.
  21. I still want to involve myself somehow as well.
  22. Still intend to be involved, though may be indirectly. PM me to discuss
  23. Whips moved swiftly in the darkness, unconcerned with the effort it had taken for Pendragon to build a small city underground. She stuck to the shadows, where she was naturally the most comfortable. She sensed the Dark Side permeating the area, creating a delicious fear and agitation she could see in the others patrolling its streets. This place must have been saturated with suffering over the years she tried to draw it into herself, take in the horror and evil of this place and make it her own. She had a theory, one she could not be certain of, as she didn't truly know much of the Dark Side beyond instinct, but she was starting to think the reason she was so easily drawn out was because this place was so strong with hate and fear that it had enhanced the innate bloodlust Li possessed, giving it form and definition as long as she drew on it, without having to wait for Li to put on a mask. Meaning that as soon as she left this place, her ability to take over might gradually fade, and she would once again be under Li's dominion. The thought angered Whips. Li had been a doormat, albeit a cunning and quiet one, always ignoring her own desires for adventure. The thing now calling itself Whips had first come into being when Li had given into her rage at her parents death, violently slaughtering the war party of Sand People that had murdered her father and mother through stealth and ambush, stalking them for days as they tried to make it back to their enclave. She hadn't been truly seperate from Li then, as Li had spent the next few years of her life trying to forget what she had done nearly losing all reason in her solitude. No, whatever Whips was, a fugue state, a seperate persona, or simply the real person underneath the unsophisticated moisture farmer, or some combination of the three...it had truly started to be seperate from Whitewolf when she had murdered Kolbu the gangster. Li had surrendered to madness and bloodthirst in torturing the man that had burned down her home. And in that moment, Whips had truly started to take shape, subtly influencing all of Li's actions since fleeing Castell, however, before now, it required Li changing her appearance in order for Whips to truly get any freedom. And Li always retained final control. But not today. Whips approached the guardhouse, modeled much like the last one, and saw two guards standing by their posts at the front. Iotrans, just like the last three. She darted into the shadows, taking cover behind a statue of Pendragon in swirling, large robes. "How come he ain't released the cannibals yet?" one Iotran asked. "He usually cuts 'em loose by now." "He wanted to change the schedule up tonight," the other answered. "I HATE it when he does that. It's bad enough he never gives any warning. Last time we did this I didn't see one of those mutilated freaks until they were within striking distance. Just barely managed to stab it..." "Tell me about it. Last year, me and a buddy of mine were set to patrol the fountains down in the center of this place. Those drugged up nasties had made a nest in one of the alcoves. My buddy gets snatched and torn apart. They were so dug in it took me and a couple of others with flamethrowers to drive 'em out. Still can't get the smell out of my nostrils. "You hear about who they got down here this time? Some sort of Dark Jedi. Lash caught her with a lightsaber and everything." The first Iotran peered at the second. "Serious?" "Like an earthquake. Why you think we stopped getting check ins from post zero?" "How are we supposed to stop a Dark Jedi?" "The bowmen will get her...eventually." "But what about us?!" "You signed the dotted line. You knew the risks." "This is some shavit..." Li was about to move from cover, the guardhouse was surrounded by a wall of stone brick, one and a half times taller than Li. The brick work was rough and primitive however, allowing for plenty of places to grab and climb...but then her keen eyes picked up a shimmer in the air next to the guards. Man sized. Faint, but there. It was a stealth field. Li had seen them used before, had even learned how to work one, but never owned one. She would have to be extra careful. Pendragon had shelled out for high quality units...it had been sheer luck she had spotted it. The cheap ones light bending field shimmered more. Whips moved from cover, keeping to the shadows outside the guardhouse perimeter, slowly, quietly. She got close to the wall and began to quietly climb it, and in seconds she had reached the top, pulling out her Trench knife, her dark outfit blending her in with the darkness above from the cavern. Her trench knife came out, and Whips floated it telekinetically with an evil grin, aiming the knife at the shimmer. Exerting the max amount of speed possible she sent the knife at the shimmer. She smirked as the knife stopped. She heard a gurgle as the man's stealth field failed and he collapsed, causing the guard's to head over, to try and help. The knife had gone through chainmail, impacting the midsection, buried deep. Whips then sent a bolt of electricity a piece at both of them, feeling the painful sting and burn on her hand as she leapt down, removing her cudgel why the guards were stunned, their muscles having seized up, forcing them still even as they began to tumble, her cudgel reaching their unprotected face, with two swift, heavy whacks. They fell down dead. Whips grinned, enamored with her own brutality. She plucked the keys off one guard, retrieved her knife and opened the front door with the keys to its lock Inside, she noticed it was quite different, having an expensive looking red carpeting, faceted statues of Muun's made of marble, and in the center of the place lay a simple table, holding her bow and arrows. Whips was no fool, anymore than Li was. She approached cautiously, looking for anything that did not belong. She moved forward, slowly. She had been just about to take a step when she noticed a seam, faint but there in the carpet. Two seams actually. On that ran horizontal and the other vertical, all the way to the table at the center. Li took out her cudgel, tapping the seamed floor. The floor ahead collapsed, revealing a bed of sharp, jagged spikes. And then Pendragon's voice spoke up. "Well, done, disciple of Morgana. I would have been disappointed if you hadn't noticed that. Still, though, you are along fairly early. No reason to get truly excited about you just yet." Assuming he could here her, Whips huffed in annoyance. "Really Penny? A bed of spikes? How...horror film. All that money, you'd think you'd come up with something original. This is pedestrian. No wonder you are so bored." "I am going to mount that tongue of yours on my wall," he snapped. Whips ignored his threat, instead focusing the Force to retrieve her weapons, lifting them from the table telekinetically, floating both bow and filled quiver to her direction, over the bed of spikes. "My father first discovered this cavern, supported by natural pillars, when I was but a boy. He instantly had dreams of a private, hidden sanctum, though his tastes were far different from my own. He wanted to make a this cavern resemble the images he saw in his mind, wonderful floral patterns, an entire cavern as a piece of art." "Sounds like a guy with a better plan than yours," she taunted as she grasped them, slinging the quiver around her back. "My father lacked vision is all. I made sure to rid myself of most of it once he was gone. Those marble statues you see are among the last signs of his influence. I saw this place for what it was, a nice, isolated place for my...delights." Whips heard nothing more from him but was not dissuaded. She had to get her slugthrower next but that was deeper in the complex. She turned and headed back out. *** In the Sun Room, one of the guests, a male Bothan, was still annointing himself in the blood from the slain slave next to him. "I must say, Pendragon, your Dark Jedi certainly is getting through the early parts quicker than most do. She even spotted the bowmen that killed the last one...AND she is taking the piss out of you--" Pendragon turned around, walked over to the guest, smiled, and snapped his neck. The other guests cheered, not even drunk. Pendragon chuckled, bidding his slave to come over and drip more wax on his feet. "First impudent prick of the night. Ladies, gentleman, you know what to do." The guests scrambled up with scalpals Lash had passed out while Whips had been making her way to the second guardhouse and immediately began slicing and cutting into the dead Bothan, for no other purpose than a rush and to collect a souvenir. They were prepared to do this to each other also, in the event Pendragon decided one of them was to die for angering him. Pendragon looked at Lash. "Triple the patrol in the central sector, and prepare for the release of the cannibals. I want her hearded in. And in case the cannibals do not succeed, I want you down there to finish her off. She has insulted me for the last time. But do try and give a good show of it when you do. Nothing boring, okay?" Lash smiled wickedly. "As you wish, milord Pendragon." The purple Twi'lek walked out of the chamber, heels clicking as she walked past a guest caressing a lump of Bothan flesh.
  24. It might take me a little while to post, but I'm up for this still.
  25. I think I'm back
  26. Looking for people to assist with guides to help current and new members. Reply to this status to be added to the PM - I do not expect anyone to need to write full guides as well, just gathering information.

    1. Show previous comments  4 more
    2. Darthmama

      Darthmama

      I can do things like guides and details of societies.  Did it before. :)

    3. Empress Kitty

      Empress Kitty

      I'll pitch in if needed like last time.

    4. Kure

      Kure

      Perfecttttt, four should be enough - though if anyone wants to lend a hand still, it's more than welcomed.

  27. Will be trying to get posts and stuffs done today. Struggling with the crap in mah head, but determined to try to get through some of it at least with writing :P

  28. Posts and shenanigans soon!  Hoping before the week is out.

    1. Kure

      Kure

      Take your time with my stuff - I caused you to wait too long, so it's all good :P

    2. Darthmama

      Darthmama

      But that's the fun part of things!  Besides, I think it's all you anyways between character fixing and posts. :P

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