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Found 223 results

  1. Down on her Luck...

    Selona 10, 3629 BBY "Why am I even fracking here?" Kala muttered to herself as she landed her freighter on Dantooine. She hadn't been here in a long time, memories of her being dragged here as part of her probation. She had been looking at a very long prison term for smuggling spice and various illegal items. She had tried to smooth talk her way out of it but frack the damn Jedi that didn't seem to want to work with her like others could. He had her arrested and her ship impounded and she had ended up in a brig. The next thing she knew the magistrate told her she had two options, go to the Dantooine Enclave for Jedi training or spend a good nine to ten years in prison. Gee, what idiot would say, give me prison. So of course, Kala had chosen the alternative, Jedi training. Jedi training never really took to the smuggler, she was like a stubborn Ronto. Of course, the Jedi tried to be kind and said, this isn't a punishment. Kriffing hell it was a punishment. Course she tried to learn the Jedi way, but without much success. She sighed as she got off her freighter and tried to call upon the Force and tried to push something just for shits and giggles but all that happened was a light tremble the small stone she tried to budge...well she felt something...the stone seemed to tremble ever so lightly but that was it. Yep, I am a wing clipped mynock. She had no skill towards that obvious Jedi skill. She might as well be a fracking null. Ehh, no biggy she wasn't here to beg a return to the Jedi. Nope, she was here hoping that maybe the Jedi might offer her a job. She was a smuggler after all and she had a really bad string of luck lately. A Hutt had tried to confiscate her ship, hell no. No one was going to confiscate Shadow Dancer. She managed to narrowly escape that fate by....she cringed at the thought. Damn Hutts had only one weakness, they loved dancing and well worming her way into a lustful Hutt's heart... Kala told the Hutt she would be his dancing girl. He hadn't counted on her putting poison in his meal bowl. He died a horrible death and Kala managed to get away debt free with a slightly soiled reputation. Kala felt kind of guilty over that. Kala didn't like killing sentients but it wasn't as if a Hutt was the most honorable of creatures. Of course, there was always the risk that the Hutts would come after her yet again. Yet, killing a Hutt lent a lot of street cred. Hutts tended to fear death though and if one could kill just one Hutt there was always the risk that Kala could kill another. Meanwhile, Kala whistled a bit of a Correlian drinking tune as she stood outside of her ship. She took out a flask and took a draught from it. She doubted the Jedi would welcome the rogue smuggler. She had time to kill and very few credits to her name.
  2. The Butterfly Effect

    Dantooine Enclave Selona, 3629 BBY Thuria walked swiftly through the enclave. The whole time, she thought over to her first meeting with Far-Shan Nadiito. That was before she had a master and she was still a Padawan. At this point, everything was about to change. Questions formed in her mind: who was her Padawan? Would she like her? Would her Padawan do the same? Honestly, Thuria was nervous about this whole arrangement. And yet, she wondered how she would do as a master herself. She momentarily glimpsed up at the high ceiling, This temple was her home for years. She was ready to start a new life, even if it was something grander than herself. She had no choice. She would just have to get used to battles and fighting. She was a guardian, and with that came duty and honor among the Jedi Knights of the Republic. Her silver hair flowed with each step she took. Now more than ever, she hoped she treated her Padawan with the best intentions. At last, she came to the Eye of Zallow monument. It's huge holocron shaped sphere floated above her head. She looked down in angst, wondering when her Padawan might yet arrive, if she was coming at all.
  3. Crescent

    Kelona 3629 BBY, The Training Fields of Dantooine --- It had been awhile, the cool and scented breeze of Dantooine flowing through his hair and cooling his exposed flesh, the sweater that had formed on his brow trickling down. Home, or what was a replacement for home at the very least - nothing could replace Tython during it's prime, but this was as close to returning to one's roots as it could get. Even now with his master's lightsaber in his hands, he felt at peace and willing to embrace the warmth that each strike and swing of the weapon provided. Each pattern being utilized to transition from one point to another, fluid like water flowing before finalizing into the finality - like water falling over a cliff. Knowledge that had been cascaded onto the young man flowed through his memories as he fought his imaginary enemy. Each repetitive cut carved through the air as he transitioned between Shii-Cho's more basic and erratic movements to Djem So's powerful fluid strikes, each muscle seizing as he stopped his blade mid strike to stimulate a parry or hit - Dulon perhaps was the most ridiculous looking training technique a Jedi or anyone could do, but it helped one understand control and taught one how to be fluid. The movements slowed to a halt as he deactivated his weapon and lowered himself to his knees, exhaling sharply as his fingers pressed together to meditate, to slowly replenish his reserves. Like everything touched by the Force, one's potential was determined by their willingness to push themselves. The man's physical prowess was great yet his ability with the Force was weak, though he had dedicated himself to more defensive skills to supplement his preferred style, he was still mastering his ability to utilize the skills with his weapon and in the heat of a duel. Yet, that was not the reason he was here today - he was there to provide Homra a hand with the Jedi that were continuing to pour into their ranks. Unlike the other Jedi that typically ran around, Yusanulis was significantly more headstrong and perhaps the only one aiming for the title of Battlemaster. Unlike most his knowledge of lightsaber combat outshining most, as well as his innate battle senses from his Echani heritage - something he relied on as much as his Force senses. He grunted at the idea of being an instructor at the Enclave, but perhaps he could help those that struggled with their physical attributes, those that were undisciplined and those that could be beaten into shape. Even during a time when the phrase 'The Sith Empire' was fading, the threat of the Sith loomed as some were found in the Outer Rim, and the other smaller Empire's sought to build a powerbase. The Jedi could only police so much before they were considered evil dictators like the Sith, but they could continue to train to be prepared for the worst - paranoia or not, letting one's being become weak because of a lack of threats was slothful. It was only a matter of time before those that took notice of the request posted the day prior showed up.
  4. Ludus Summus

    Elona, 3630 BBY Sith Academy Training Pits on Dathomir (after the conclusion of Incipit) Entering the Sith Academy training pits for the very first time, Kai was suddenly glad she was not doing so, alone. There were some initiates and acolytes already present within. Some were practicing their swordplay, others were sparring with each other while some (less confident ones, perhaps) chose to do so with large sandbags marked with targets. A few (older acolytes by the looks of them) were engaging in obscure martial arts routines. The Korun stepped inside the doorway and off to the side as not to block the entrance -- silently watching the activity, leaning against the wall -- seemingly unnoticed for the time being. One of the trainees' brilliance was immediately apparent. He disarmed one of the taller companions with whom he was sparring, lowered his wooden training sword and turned his gaze blatantly upon her, Kai, as if his will alone could move the young woman from her standing spot. The Korun moved away from the wall and began to walk across the soft ground, her eyes leveled calmly with the stranger's. She did not know his name, but he seemed to have quite the reputation, judging by the way everyone else looked at him: there was an almost reverence and definitely fear. So, he thought himself to be better than everyone else, did he? Maybe it was time to test that theory, Kai thought, although it would have been her very first time, going up against a male combatant. Come to think of it, the Korun had not even tried sparing with a sandbag. And how could she, given that she had arrived here barely two days ago? If she were lucky, Kai would be allowed to practice with a training saber or a vibrosword, although she would use a stick if commanded to. There was no shame in using any weapon, as long as you gave it your very best shot, the initiate thought. She was moving too fast. The Korun's initial excitement was clearly getting the better of her. Pausing in her tracks, Kai decided to halt her approach in case it was seen as a direct challenge. You are not ready for that yet, the young woman scolded herself silently. Dual-colored gaze flushed with dismay was quietly lifted to Darth Verrin, who had yet to give any direction as to what he would expect of her.
  5. Enantiomorphs

    Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars. It was a core belief to them, and the main reason they were so harsh; no one grew stronger due to being deprived of challenges or growth, or so they were lead to believe. The weak would be violated, desecrated, destroyed - the strong would struggle, adapt, evolve and succeed. A simple mantra, and therein lied the problem in Corvus' honest opinion. As he watched Acolytes and other Masters move about, practicing to hone their mind and bodies into instruments of way; it was just too simple. It was easy to lose yourself in a fit of blind rage. It would certainly give you a great burst of strength when you let your emotions take control, but the rebound was often both great and damaging. Few realized this, far too few. It's why Sith would often throw themselves headfirst into peril and come out permanently damaged. Perhaps a bum leg for the rest of their life, or fit with a re breather for the foreseeable future. Therefore, as he had once believed; the key was this: Be angry, but do not act angry. Whether or not it was a controversial topic when you talked with others about the "Light side" or the "Dark Side", there had to nonetheless be a harmony between "Good" and "Evil". Corvus couldn't help but lament about how annoying being alive was, because the dichotomies were both endlessly present and infinitely annoying. He glanced down at his hands, balled them tightly into fists and then relaxed them once more as he watched the Acolytes in particular. "Kid's who are too obedient and never think of themselves are the hardest to watch." He mumbled to no one in particular, simply sighting as the color in his eyes shifted to other things that felt more important. Not a whole lot, save a few individuals who were doing things their own way. They were still infants, oblivious to the reality they stood on. The frail, fragile reality. They didn't understand death at all. They would learn how to inflict damage on other people, and perhaps even make it to the point where they could kill a poor old woman if they were pushed to a corner. No; if they could truly see death, they probably wouldn't be able to maintain their sanity. The freshest of recruits - all they could perceive is what was alive. Truly understanding 'death' was something that undermined everything. Temporary, everything is temporary. Not in the sense that it can be replaced, or that it'll be gone in a couple hundred thousand years. Standing on the battlefield as many times as he had forced him to understand quite clearly: The ground was like it wasn't even there, and the sky felt like it could fall at any moment; crushing everything insignificant beneath its infinite mass in a flash. The whole world could perish in an instant, as its reality is naught but a simple illusion to safeguard the ordinary peoples minds. How many of them would continue to struggle once they came face to face with the reality? Corvus let out an audible hum as he continued to watch things unfold before him- "I should get started on those savages, soon."
  6. Paths We Take

    Elona, 3629 BBY Somewhere Far Far Away... Despite being the voice of the Jedi, the one chosen to lead them, much of what she spoke went unheard. With her deep connection to the Force and pure heart, the Togruta was the closest thing to an oracle that their faction had, yet trying to encourage a swift change in one's lifestyle amongst the masses was difficult to put it mildly. For too long their people had pushed the boundaries of the Code, had let emotions get the best of them. The lines between Jedi and Sith began to blur much to her horror; any being blessed with the gift of the Force was equal, only becoming light or shadow based on how they used their abilities. When the Jedi became an army, a tool used by the Republic, the balance began to shift and cover the Galaxy in darkness. To help correct it, the Jedi had to return to their roots, and that should have been enough, should have balanced the scales. Yet they began to teeter, tipping in favor of one side, then the other, the stronger faction between light and dark Force Users yet unknown. Warnings of what she sensed were ignored, and so the young woman left while knowing few would notice her lack of presence. . . . Gasping, throwing the blanket off her form as she scrambled out of the makeshift cot, it took a few achingly long moments to orient herself, to recall where she was, that she was alone, that she was still in one piece. Wiping the perspiration from her skin with a damp cloth, the Jedi gazed up at the sky blanketed with stars. No one could or would guess that peace would crumble sooner than later. The Force had been plaguing her mind with visions, her mental barriers weak from the continuous onslaught of bits and pieces to a larger picture, of unclear images - only from time to time did something solid appear, often of a particular man she encountered once before through the Force while on the planet Alderaan. She could never forget his aura, his armor-clad silhouette. "...I see," she murmured to the air, letting out a sigh. "So that is the path I must walk, a very rocky and steep trek. Force be with me..."
  7. Birthright

    Elona 3629, Dathomir Sith Academy Months had passed, chasing the dreams of past Emperors - the idea of immortality, such a moot and depressing ideal had instead awoken something greater in their quest. His observers, the blackened Echani and the diplomatic witch working to ensure all the information he could want was bestowed upon him. Within the tombs of Kalakar and on Korriban he had retraced every single step Cideon had taken, yet instead of failing where Cideon had - he had found what he was looking for, a way to bring rebirth to the dying embers.. then the tome he had discovered soon became a relic he kept close with him, never truly leaving his side. Hidden within the Unknown Regions laid their salvation, the remnants of Empires of eld protected and lost within the vastness of the galaxy. Dagan had the remains of their own fleet, but the fleet none had questioned what had happened to was ripe for the picking. Perhaps that is why the Empire had fell, none had asked questions - many were simply wanting to live their lives ignorant to the truth. “Prepare my ship for departure, and summon Corvus and Sanguira - it is time to take back the birthright that belonged to every Imperial,” the words were hissed behind the vocoder of his mask, a tome snuggly held under his right arm as he eyed Dathomir, the savage planet that had been their former salvation. While they could not simply rip out the throat of the Jedi and the Republic, they could regrow themselves and use their superior intelligence to wound them. Each of the Sith that held power had their own positive traits, though certain traits stood out from each one - each one of them would be required to do their own duty in this revanchism. Verrin had the academy and a way to approach the students to properly prepare them for war. Tanit embodied the fury of the Sith, even in her waning health she was still a brute force to be reckoned with, and while her military career had been anything but successful, this would at least provide her with a chance to prove her usefulness to the Sith entirely. Tactically superior to Tanit was Corvus, the Echani Sithspawn that had the keenest intelligence and speed to be able to orchestrate these planned attacks with quick succession and even before being tampered with showed the will and endurance of a true Sith, something they sorely required. Finally it fell upon Sanguira to begin her campaign of diplomacy and subjugation, as she had the power and intelligence to crush her enemies, her intelligence was better suited to something that wouldn’t be completely eradicating all those who stood in her way. --- As their vessel departed towards Dathomir, he realized many would probably oppose his right to rule - and truthfully he didn’t blame them, but unfortunately enough for them they lacked someone with vision, one who realized foresight was worse than hindsight. Tacticians were a rarity, and many of those who held their own power didn’t know how to wield it into a potent weapon. “Corvus,” murmuring as he turned to the Echani, his hand sliding to the two lightsabers on his waist before tossing them towards the man, “I trust you are fully capable of quelling any rebellious.. fools. It is not my duty to crush any resistance, especially during times of rallying and rousing the people. Make sure Lord Verrin’s overseers are aware of our arrival, Ereneda.” Feeling the vessel land by the Sith Academy, the Sith’ari lowered the ramp as he took the necessary steps towards the training grounds, cloak draped over his being as he no longer appeared regal outwardly, instead appearing ragged from his adventures. Regality was for royalty, not a God - sitting on one’s hands was a good way to stagnant, and Atrox was never one to accept stagnation. Watching as the overseers gathered what they could, following suit of their returned Dark Lord, the man allowed his two companions to remain by his side. Perching himself over the largest training pit, his boots sunk into the mud as he stood far above those gathered there. He had noted the fact the savages weren’t subjugated yet, though they would in time with the return of Corvus. “Children of the fallen, the downtrodden. Do you not tire of remaining under the heel of our oppressors? To remain amongst these savages, these Dathomirian witches and shamans.. have we truly forgotten our greatness?” The questions rang with the same rage that once sounded from the man on Balmorra, his eyes focusing on the masses as he threw out one hand to the side, his cloak twisting in the wind, “We’ve lost our worlds, and unfortunately our faith - but I have been watching from afar, and I understand the anger and the hatred we all feel for the Republic. Our salvation is not an all out war, we are far too weak to muster that - but to slay the goliath, we must strike their weaknesses.” Hand sliding to his belt as he retrieved a holo-projector and clicked the button, throwing it out before him as it landed in the mud projecting multiple planets and points of interest. Industrial planets, the Kuat Drive Yards, the ships that remained within their control, and Vitiate’s own Imperial fleet - even Mandalore. It wouldn’t be an easy task to secure all points of interest, but they had the time and patience to properly secure them. “Each and every member of the Sith Remnant is a cog in this machine, together we are stronger than the Republic and unlike the Jedi, we are cunning enough to accept that maybe sometimes our morals hold us back,” speaking louder as he returned his hand to the tome at his side, his hand tightening over it's spine, “Unlike Emperor’s of eld, I do not disappear forever to simply pursue my own goals - the Sith’ari does not reject his own blood for personal goals.” He brought his right hand to his mask and released the hatches. Pulling off the mask revealed a different Atrox, one who had been stressed beyond recognition - though one who had managed to find a temporary solution to his accelerated ageing, that came at a price. Dishevelled hair flowed down his face as his hood came back, the black and grey hairs twisted together, yet on his face he held a grin - a form of pride one could almost feel. “Are you with me, brothers and sisters?”
  8. What Stays in the Cantina

    Nar Shaddaa Elona, 3629 BBY Kal took another sip of his Juma Juice. It had been too long since he played Pazaak. The feel of the card deck was great. Oh, how he wished things hadn't been so drastic! Karter was no longer his employer and Kal wasn't returning to Alderaan soon enough, not with everyone on his case over there. He sighed, knowing he would have to face trial eventually. He looked around the cantina. The lights were dim, except for above the tables. All sorts of aliens, creatures, and humans wandered to and fro about the cantina. Like him, they were eager to talk or play cards. He shuffled his deck, in hopes of finding someone who would play a game with him. Anyone! "Ah!" Kal grunted, annoyed. "This is great! I lose employment and must now seek another ship!" He asked the bartender aloud, "Say, bartender, how about another drink?!" "You've had one too many, Kal!" The bartender said, annoyed. "You don't deserve another drink!" "I don't deserve--" Kal stood up, advancing towards the bar table in a comedic stance. "Hey, hey, hey! Have I steered you wrong? I ordered a nice drink and hopefully, I'll get to play a nice game of Pazaak. Is that really too much to ask?" He pressed his hand against his chest, showing remorse in the best possible way. "You're still too drunk, Kal!" The bartender said, more annoyed. "Now, seeing as you're a paying customer, I'm going to have to ask you to keep quiet. Otherwise, I'll kick you out of my cantina, before you can say 'The Gizka are here!'" Kal raised his hands, retreating to his table. "Alright! You got me, bartender. I'll be quiet. I'll be as still as a grophet on a really bad day!" He sat down, staring at his empty glass in shame. He really wanted another drink, but sadly that wasn't about to happen. He sighed, wondering who he could talk to now that would understand how he was feeling.
  9. A Jedi Knight At Last!

    The Dantooine Enclave Elona, 3629 BBY Thuria made her way through the training grounds. The scent of fresh pine needles caught her nostrils, bringing up memories of the past. Oh, the long years she spent wondering when this day would come: the day she would become a Knight of the Republic. She was about to get her wish! She was becoming a Guardian! Her chance to explore other worlds, train a Padawan, and more. She stopped once to see two Padawans face off against a Mark III droid. How could she forget her training against that droid or the many droids she faced on her travels? If there was one thing she learned from being a Padawan, it was to not give up and not to give into temptation. She learned this the hard way with Dek Fisher, the Jedi who she had feelings for and the Jedi who taught her that sometimes love is not the only thing that matters. It was friendships, but also the need to see past the pain and come up with a more realistic solution. It was time to let go of the past, to let her wounds heal. She made it this far as a Padawan and had her frequent stumbles, but Brison, Inoy, and Coventry had been with her to see through the pain and suffering. They helped mold her into the Jedi she was now and she was grateful to have become their friends. Then there was Far-Shan Nadiito, the first fox to ever speak to her when she was still innocent and naive. She was still naive in a lot of ways, but she couldn't help growing out of that and maturing. She learned a few tricks along the way, learned how to use her lightsaber and craft it into what she wanted. Her wood cased lightsaber was useful for calming her down, but also to help her become more aware of her surroundings. It was an extension of her and she would make sure to use it to help her stay on the Light Side. She wasn't about to give up the good in others, solve problems without first finding its source, and from that becoming a better person. Within the few minutes she stood watching the Padawans, Thuria realized she was ready to move forward with her life. . Thuria entered the temple, finding the familiar stone pillars, the statues of the Jedi Masters long past, and the Eye of Zallow monument floating in-between the two ramps, leading to the second floor. She stopped here, searching for the way to her knighting ceremony. Where was she to go? No. She would think this through before she acted. Surely, there was a Jedi Master who could guide her to the ceremony. She took a seat in front of the Eye of Zallow, which strangely reminded her of a massive Holocron. It was a familiar to her, the place where she met her first Jedi Master, Ellina Kast. She sighed, wondering if she would meet her old master during her knighting ceremony this year. She hoped she was right.
  10. Incipit

    21st Atunda Elona, 3630 BBY Dathomir | Sith Academy | Library Archives First new day in the new surroundings. Kai awoke in the early hours of the morning, feeling stiff and sore from the trappings of her new bed. She had not slept on anything nearly this comfortable before, and the idea of having to do so again and again brought on mixed feelings. Time’s a wasting, the girl reminded herself sternly, you did not come here for a vacation. Leaning down, she pulled on her boots mostly by feel, while her eyes grew used to the dim light of her newly assigned domicile. Then came the single customary yawn, followed by a stretch, and then another, and another. It took some time, but eventually Kai felt relief seep into her shoulder and neck joints, rendering her well enough to rise and stand tall. Sharp gaze befell the stone floor as she considered something. “Yes. Tonight I think I will try something different.” Given that ‘tonight’ was still many hours away and she had no notion of returning to her quarters before then, Kai walked over to the wash basin and began splashing water onto her face and hands, scrubbing the skin gently with her fingertips. It would not do to step outside looking the part of a haggard beggar. No, when she walked out there, into the public eye, Kai would have to continue making the best impression possible. The Korun may have come from a rough neighborhood, but that did not make the girl a hoodlum. While drying her face with a rough-spun cloth provided courtesy of the Academy, Kai realized she would have to find her own way about the place. Hopefully the treks taken under Maggie’s guidance would have embedded themselves in Kai’s memory well enough to serve as makeshift maps. She did not fancy the thought of being seen roaming the halls in circles, amidst hushed whispers and cackles of other initiates or worse yet, instructors. Closing her eyes for a moment, Kai began reconstructing the walk from the foyer, through the numerous halls, the library and then finally, Darth Verrin’s office. Deeming it of little use considering her current location, she then mentally retraced her steps from the Zabrak’s office to the library, and eventually being led here by the artificial life form. Vague, all too vague! The girl scolded herself in silence. Were you too focused on impressing a Sith that your mind began to decay the moment your surroundings changed to a non-Zabrak venue? It was no use. Kai would have to rely on her logic and forget her dulled mind for the time being. Walking back to her sleeping cot, she pulled a thermos out of her pack and poured herself a cup of brown, murky liquid. The coffee was not fresh, but at least it was warm. Taking comfort in the bitterness of a familiar liquid that reminded her of home, Kai decided on a quick change of apparel before heading out for the day. When she at least emerged from her quarters, the young woman was attired in all black with the exception of a single accessory in her hair: trousers, boots, mock turtleneck tunic - all spouted sobriety while touting a reticent aura of mystery. Wais-long hair was pulled back and gathered into a ponytail adorned with a wisteria colored ribbon. Kai did not bother looking at herself in the mirror, knowing well she looked serious and severe. So at least when I am blathering nonsensical thoughts while lost in the labyrinth of endless walls, I can do so with a dignified bearing? Pause. Sarcasm does not become you, Kai Tsintah. Fortitude. Honor. Truth. Those are your tenets; keep them well. Keep them strong. Having calmed her thoughts, the Korun stepped farther into the hallway and headed back in the opposite direction Maggie led her here the day before. To her surprise, she had not come across a single being, the only sound in the halls being the crisp, even echo of her combat boots. Before long, she would find herself before a large double door which seemed rather familiar. She hesitated only a little, before stepping forward and pressing her palm against the opening mechanism, hoping it would budge under the pressure alone. If it were kept locked and only accessible during certain hours of the day, Kai would find herself perplexed and disappointed. But to her surprise, the door gave way, allowing this early visitor inside. A soft smile graced her usually somber features. There it was, just as she had first seen it yesterday: a grandiose chamber of black marble, adorned with massive wooden and metal shelves. Dual-colored eyes wandered over them as she passed, silently admiring innumerable hard copies of data housed there. There were electronic terminal too, although Kai doubted she had access to them at this point. But there were so many holo-books, scrolls and tomes surrounding her from every angle, that she had no doubt would keep her busy here for months…. perhaps even years! Excitement surging through her veins, Kai moved toward one of the shelves, scanning for any texts on Sith combat utilizing the lightsaber. It was a bold decision, but the Korun considered it to be a logical place to start. Self-defense was paramount, not just to a Sith hopeful, but anyone. The galaxy was a dangerous place, she thought back on Nar Shaddaa and all the dark memories it held for her. No, she thought firmly while pulling out a couple of volumes from the shelf overhead, I will never be caught impotent to defend what is mine, again. Walking over to a nearby table, Kai sat down and lay the books before her; fingertips gently, almost reverently outlining oiled leather bindings.
  11. Lightsaber basic's

    Magnus walked passed self after self in the archives, quickly scanning the backs of the books that were available to the young Jedi in training in hopes of finding a book that would help him with understanding the most basic tool that more or less every Jedi had, the lightsaber. True he had already had a lightsaber for the majority of his life when his previous master had given it to him back on the lonely planet and had plenty of time to look it over and take it apart, but in true he was worried that if he did, then it would somehow get damaged from his medalling and won’t work anymore. But he knew that this was an issue that has to be dealt with so here he was, searching the archives, a place that still amazed him with the sear amount of books and data cubes that it had, for anything that would give him a clear idea on how they worked. He had managed to acquire a data cube that held the information that he wished but he liked to make sure through other sources if he could. It didn’t take long until he spotted a book that had the title ‘Lightsaber basic’s’, where he quickly removed it from the self and found a quiet corner of the archives with a chair and table and sat down while he opened both the book and data cube to digest its information. Through both of them he found plenty of useful information that told him how a lightsaber was used, briefly going over dual wielding that peaked Magnus’s curiosity, and how it worked inside of its casing coming with a detailed schematic of them. ‘Ok that’s... not too complicated.’ He said to himself as he brought his training lightsaber out and placed it on the centre of the table. In principle, they were the same, a training lightsaber and actual ones, so the mechanics were similar except for the use of an actual kyber crystal. Magnus took one last look at the diagram of the lightsaber and its individual pieces, before calmly closing his eyes and levitated the saber in the air while he concentrated on imagining the different parts of the blade and began to try to take them apart.
  12. Inception

    Kai did not remember how they got here. Idly, the Korun wondered whether she would be capable of making her way back to the settlement if the need arose. Her mind whirled, conflicting thoughts and emotions growing in scope and stature, as if somehow magnified by whatever surrounded her. Everything she felt here seemed stronger, Kai thought. The scout that guided her within said nothing throughout the entire journey to the Academy which suited her fine because Kai did not really feel like talking. Instead, she preferred to feed her senses with the aura emitted by her surroundings as the two travelers walked onward, keeping up an invariably brisk pace. The young woman’s stamina notwithstanding, she wondered how many kilometers they had covered. Distracted by a myriad of thoughts mingling with budding excitement, Kai forgot to count her steps and lost track of time, given the burgeoning, dense cloud cover that painted foreboding shadow against the thick canopy of verdant green. Overwhelmed by the mystery of all that had befallen her that day, the Korun's initial curiosity about the appearance and identity of her shadowy companion all but faded away. For his part, the scout simply stuck to his mission: leading Kai someplace she believed, would be a doorway to her new destiny. How much longer? This thought, pushing its way through a throng of many others, seemed to amplify the loudest. Just then, the rain forest enveloping the travelers seemed to thicken. Kai’s brows narrowed, her gaze sharpening as she clutched her walking staff ever tighter. And yet, her eyes were not deceiving her; the underbrush and forest engulfing them grew more dense with every passing step. Sensing danger at the last possible moment, Kai looked down, seeing a large flattened boulder just in front of her. And then another. And another. Stepping stones, she realized as her staff came down in front of her, hands twisting upon it. Her momentum ceased briefly, dual-colored gaze examining the obstacle in front of her. Man-carved steps. Ahead of Kai, the scout paused for a moment as if waiting for her to catch up. Odd. He did not turn. He simply. Just. Knew. Alright, then! Climbing the stairs, Kai ascended to the step just below her shadowy guide’s. The figure in front of her resumed forward momentum and the Korun simply followed with her gaze transfixed firmly ahead. Curiosity growing by leaps and bounds, Kai felt as if she were jumping out of her skin, eager to reach the top of their steep ascent. Her footsteps halted in tandem with the guide and she stood beside the shadowy figure who seemed intensely focused upon the wall of green that blocked further entry. Expecting to see some sort of a building upon arrival, Kai hid her confusion under a mask of indifference. Patient to the last, she now waited to see what would happen next. As the two of them paused, Kai could feel a distinct shiver of cold -- no, dread -- ripple up and down her spine. Was this some kind of test? Before she could voice the thought, Kai saw the vines and branches recede as if recognizing their visitors upon arrival. Whether through some magic, trickery or physical means, there was an entrance concealed beneath all the greenery and shadow, both of which had lifted away as if by some unheard command. Swallowing hard, Kai waited for the scout to step forward before she did. A current of cold air blasted through her as soon as she moved on, causing her to shiver uncontrollably. Somehow it had found a way through all the layers of clothing she wore, and Kai found the sensation quite unsettling. Distracting and unexpected, it made the Korun focus on it, rather than her new setting. Come to think of it, she did not even remember stepping through an entrance, or what it would have looked like. Kriff. Kriff. Kriff. Noting now that she could see nothing except walls of darkness surrounding her in a large foyer that was the largest she had ever laid eyes upon, Kai faltered in her steps and waited for her eyes to adjust to the absence of light within. Remembering the light-stick in her pack, Kai swung it off her shoulder and dug out the rod, turning it on. The portable device was not overly powerful, but it was capable of illuminating a meter or so, all around her. Obsidian stone below her feet, above her and all around her, and not a sign of another living being present. Her guide had disappeared, or was that another illusion to test her? Increasingly frustrated and confused, the Korun took a small step forward and then another, hearing the echo of her own footfalls being the lone sound in an otherwise barren chamber. “Hello? Is anyone out there?” Calling out into an empty twilight, Kai found herself shrinking inside in spite of wanting very much to ignore the feeling of uneasiness that sought out every inch of her body. For the time being, there was no response, save the echo of her own anxious voice. She was alone.
  13. Thread title: A little activity is not bad for anyone. Location: Dantooine Enclave, Training fields. Open to: basically anyone on the enclave Thread: Kale Sarkan decided to train with his lightsaber to burn off some adrenaline. Goal: To hang out and interact with the Jedi´s outside of the usual Hanging out casual conversation.
  14. It had been a while now since he arrived to Dantooine from Coruscant and Kale soon found out that the place was quite boring compared to the city planet. There wasn´t a lot to do outside the enclave and, being the active young man he was, that didn´t suit him well enough, so he was most likely focusing on his training, work out and other physical stuff to try and at least keep his body working and burn some adrenaline. He wished he knew more people there to hang out with there, but for now that was the only thing he could occupy himself with. He stepped into one of the training rooms in the enclave, and took off the top part of his robes, dressing only with a sleeveless T-Shirt he was wearing underneath. IT was always very hot in those rooms and he didn´t want to wash his robes again. He pushed a few buttons in the control panel to activate three training balls, or robots. He didn´t know the exact name but he liked to call hem the training balls. They were devices with sphere form, which floated in the air and had various holes in their structure, where they shoot low power lasers from. He cracked his neck then and stretched a little, to make sure his muscles were not going to get damaged from the exercise and took his training lightsaber form his belt just before activating it, making the laser blade come to life with a sparkling green color. He twisted it in his hand and the weapon made it´s signature noise before Kale took the Sii-Cho stance, ready to try and deflect everything the training balls threw at him, he started moving smoothly, trying to connect with the force around him to guide his actions.
  15. One Ping Only

    (late Elona, 3630) One could picture it. An entirely black holovid screen met was suddenly blasted by a field of stars and a boom of orchestral music as an opening credits scroll crawled into view. That scroll had read something about an Episode, and something about the Sith Empire having fallen to the daring (and lucky) Jedi-aided Republic. The homeworld of Dromund Kaas had been the target, and the Empire had retreated to make a final stand at the battlestation, Bastion. But the republic continued their push, not willing to allow the massive Empire to regroup and return. In a final blow that caused self-inflicted harm to the majority of the remaining Republic capitol ships (or because the Empire rigged the battlestation to self-destruct), the massive explosion that shook the sector dispersed the Empire once and for all. The Republic had won, at last. Or had they? In the months that followed, rumor (and then intelligence) revealed that some Sith escaped the massacre and scattered to the galaxy. So too did some key members of the Empire who might one day regroup with other elements and attempt a return to power. The Republic had exhausted almost all of their reserves in their victory, and couldn't maintain the push to chase down so many scattered bits of their enemies, so they focused efforts on rebuilding their Republic, a governing body, and a coalition of allied planets. The Hutts still ruled their parts of space, as did the Mandalorians, and some similarly powered groups like Czerka and the wealthy houses of Alderaanian nobility. And with the vacancy of the Empire's control over all that they'd held, there would be a jockeying for power as all of those representative groups rushed to fill the void. Meanwhile, the Jedi had dispersed - many were lost in the strike on their ancient enemies, and those remaining were split between guiding the Republic and hunting down the scattered remnants of Sith. Surely, they were a house, divided. The scroll faded, leaving more questions than answers, and this starry night sky began to shift, as if the camera was refocusing its lens on some other part of the galaxy. The music faded too, growing softer and softer with each passing measure. A floutist's single instrument sang a song, and then drew silent as low string bass notes turned mechanical - the sound of a massive starship's engines. Those engines grew louder, testing the audio equipment of the viewer, and then the nose of the starship came into view from the top of the screen - a forced-perspective shot that would likely see a huge capitol ship heading for a vanishing point somewhere far ahead, and in the middle of the field of view. But only a few seconds into its slow entry, the back of the ship also came into view, revealing a much, much smaller ship than perhaps was anticipated. It was indeed a Fury Class fighter ship, but an older one, and it showed signs of battles both recent and ancient. It had been in space a while, that was certain. As the ship came fully into view, another soundtrack came on. This one was classic, known the galaxy-wide - and perhaps even beyond - as simply the Imperial March. It's measured cadence was matched by a pair of black boots on durasteel plated floor. The boots, like the ship, were well-worn. They were black, functional, military-issue, and designed for purpose less than comfort. They rapped the steel along with the beat of the music, and one could picture this going on for some time: Bum, bum, bum, bum-da dum, bum-da bum... bum, bum, bum... But they ended there as the person in the boots came to a stop. The ship simply wasn't as large as the original track was meant to play. He only had to walk twelve paces from the hall outside the bridge to the copilot's seat, after all. The person's black half-robe, belted at the waist, came to rest a second afterwards, as if it wanted to keep right on walking. The figure sat down there. It was a Zabrak, as his horned head revealed, and an older one too, given that some of the horns were broken or worn - or both. The wrinkles on his skin would have been another sign, had they not been well-masked with numerous black tattoos that stood in stark contrast against the dusky violet hue of his skin. Those tattoos covered wrinkles, yes, but burns and scars too - wounds both new and old - both on the surface, and beneath. They especially hid the signs of the Dark Side's influence. He was a Sith, after all, and a Darth. His identity became clear when the person in the pilot's seat - a nondescript sort of fellow who looked like he had experience - addressed him. "Darth Verrin. Please... will you explain why we're here? You're not exactly known as a man with wanderlust, especially in these times." The Zabrak didn't turn to face the man, but sat back in the copilot's seat and looked out at the space beyond them both. He did answer though. "I don't suppose needing a breath of air would satisfy you, would it?" He paused for a couple of breaths. "No, I suppose it wouldn't." He went on, "We've been cooped up in our hideout for a while now... what has it been? Six months? A year? When did we last see the Sith'ari? Another Darth? I know there were at least a half dozen of us that escaped Bastion. Well... maybe... there's Tanit, for sure, and Renatus. And I believe Darth Sanguira was accounted for, and Vowrawn too. Akasha, maybe. All have grown silent. I sent a message out two weeks ago, and heard nothing back - nothing of their deaths or disappearances... nothing at all. Have the Jedi been systematically hunting them all down, one by one? You'd think some of those fights might leave a mark in intelligence organizations - that some flunky, even, would know SOMEthing of their masters. And I'd search through the Force, but the very cloak of protection that the planet we reside on provides us, also restricts my ability to see outside of it. I couldn't detect their signatures from the planet's surface. And as long as I was going to leave it to do that, I figured we might as well make a little trip to use more mundane methods of intelligence gathering. So that's why we're here, near Nar Shadaa. I brought a couple of operatives who will go in and feel out the locals, hire mercs or bounty hunters if necessary. We'll see how it goes. And Force willing, we'll also be able to buy some damned coffee." Darth Verrin did like his coffee - a particular vanilla flavored brew, to be more exact. His apprentice, Holle, had been working a deal with a native tribe on Dathomir for coffee production, but it was slow-going, and didn't promise that vanilla flavor he'd grown to love. He was a quirky Sith, one could say - and many had, over the years he'd served. But many of those Sith were dead and gone. He was still here. "So what's with the masked guys then?" The pilot asked. "They kind of creep me out." Verrin replied, "Ahh - the Guardians. They are a particular order even among the Sith. Their long-running oath is to protect the Sith Library and its contents. As both their leader, and the Librarian, I apparently fall under that oath, and so they protect me too." "There's only six - what if we run into trouble?" The pilot asked. "I've never needed more than six... and seldom travel with less. Plus, we're kind of restricted in room on this thing. It's not like my beloved capitol ship, the Spectre (lost during the attack on Dromund Kaas and Bastion). But... if you think they aren't enough, then I suppose we're helpless, right?" A tiny trickle of lightning flowed between the fingertips of one of Verrin's upheld hands, illuminating their faces in an eerie, flickering light. The pilot didn't deign to answer this time.
  16. A Lack of Meditation

    Mirran decided today to devote herself to pure meditation. She looked contemplative as she went out of the Enclave. She shivered a bit, there was a bit of a chill in the air and she pulled her robes closer to her. She tried to sit down to begin meditation but a gust of wind blew through the fields of Dantooine. And then the clouds rolled in and a light drizzle started coming in. So much for trying to meditate. The rain began to slowly stop being a drizzle and began to come down pouring down. Mirran sighed, so much for trying to connect with the Force through the planet itself. She was thoroughly becoming soaked and so she suddenly began to retreat from the fields and to the inner part of the Enclave. She muttered more to herself. "It would have to rain...."
  17. Quiet Time

    (Melona 15, 3630) It was a time of peace and quiet, which if one is a Sith, one knows to be a lie. But there was no denying the peace-like feeling that had descended upon the Academy. Oh sure, there were still students practicing their arts - whether they were martial, mental, or otherwise. Academics still hit the Library with some gusto, and the more physical types still hacked apart training droids - and sometimes each other. But by and large, there was little going on that was extraordinary - at least, not that was seen by the ever-watchful eyes of the Academy Overseers. And certainly, they were reporting nothing to the Academy's Head Overseer, Darth Verrin. Verrin had his own projects and research to attend to. His former apprentice turned peer, Darth Tanit wanted to craft a unique Sith weapon. She'd approached him regarding that task, even after learning the arts of Sith Alchemy herself. Perhaps she wasn't confident in her own abilities, or perhaps she wasn't ready to pay the price for the power. But more likely, she was working to acquire the ingredients that would go into the physical blade. Verrin's job was to find the non-physical ingredients - the sorcery of the procedure, the Force-reliant techniques, and perhaps most importantly - the safeguards to protect him from Tanit, should they either fail to craft her desires, or worse - succeed in the crafting, only to have her 'try it out' upon him. He'd already delved through every tome the Library possessed on the matter. He'd already crafted a few items himself. He'd already consulted the holocron of Bo Vanda once more, looking for loopholes and potential mistakes to be avoided. He'd even consulted XoXann's 'cron again - though the spirit within it still despised him for keeping her. One day, he knew, she would find a way out of the Library and into the galaxy once more. But that day wasn't here... yet. He was running out of ideas. He knew that he and Tanit could both craft the weapon she wanted. He knew what it would take, how long, and the costs. That was all mundane, and mechanical, even though a good portion of it was manipulation of the Force. So now he was simply looking for the holes - the gaps between the points of interest - the places where things could go terribly, terribly wrong. Verrin had made that mistake once before in his life, and that memory led him to enter the holocron vault once more. There, he passed by Bo Vanda, and XoXann, he walked past others, and finally arrived at a plain-looking pedestal. Upon the pillar sat a holocron - this one was empty, and dead. But it had once housed the Dark Spirit known simply as Eris. Eris was the stuff of nightmare - the un-living embodiment of the Dark Side. She was a spirit who had haunted him since his first year among the Sith, once he'd woken to the fact that there was a Force, at all - and more particularly, the Dark Side of it. She had tempted and taunted him, year after year, and many Sith simply thought Verrin had gone insane, because the spirit only showed herself to him. They were wrong, of course, and some select Sith learned that lesson the hard way. Every couple of years, the planets and systems of the galaxy came into some kind of alignment, and the veil between the Dark Side and the 'living world' weakened - allowing Eris to step through. She struck hard, time and again, until one year, Verrin grew powerful enough, smart enough, and resilient enough... to trap her within this very holocron. It didn't stop there though. He'd gone further. He sought the power of life beyond death for his daughter who had been kidnapped as a child by the Sith, and then slain in young-adulthood by Jedi. He wanted to bring her back from the Force - to obtain her spirit there, and put it back in her body here. He'd preserved her corpse for years, preparing, finding ways to do what he needed to - and then he figured it all out. The ritual required immense power - more than he possessed, certainly. He spent a couple of years having one of his apprentices - Cimoreine - prepare the corpse of his daughter with ritual markings through the use of a tattoo-gun. That gun had needles that he had crafted with the same Sith Alchemy he intended to use for Tanit. And his apprentice had a bizarre connection to the Dark Side, able to tattoo her prophetic visions into flesh. Once the corpse was ready, he'd had his apprentice do the same to him - preparing his body to be a vessel, a living holocron, to hold the spirit of Eris. Eris would be his power source. But once he transferred her from her 'cron into himself, he learned that she needed a font of power herself - to tap into the direct flow of the Dark Side. He'd taken himself, and his daughter's body, to Nogatan - beneath the Library there, and into the source of Dark Side power there that was known simply as 'the Maw'. And there, his mind 'saw' things in the Force - frightening things - huge, tentacled monsters whose footfalls would have crushed buildings - nay, blocks of buildings. But Eris had bolstered him, allowing him avoid becoming a babbling fool, before his brain melted to mush and he became part of the very substance he was trying to tap into. He went on to draw his ritual circle, he'd placed his daughter within it, and then he and Eris had begun. Their chanting attracted the attention of one of the Maw's denizens - a Dark Side abomination that could only be described as an amalgam of body parts. It possessed hundreds of mouths, and just as many eyes and ears. It lashed out at them, but could not break the protective barrier of the circle. So it broke a piece of the ceiling away, and Verrin had to dodge the falling debris to survive. He did, but once outside the protection, the monster had slammed him with a terrible appendage, knocking him into a wall. And that... that was where the 'hole' or 'gap' in Verrin's plan revealed itself. He had protected himself from Eris by making his own body a ritual holocron. He hadn't accounted for the fact that by being struck, the ritual markings on his flesh could be broken - and Eris could escape his hold. She freed herself from him, entering his daughter's body, and in the end, he'd been forced to kill the very vessel he'd saved. Nobody witnessed that event - except Eris, of course - but Verrin had returned from that trip a changed man. He'd grown distant and angry, and it took many weeks before he could fully return to his duties. He didn't want to make that mistake again - the simple failure to see where so many things could go wrong. Some time later, Verrin was back in his office, the memory of his own failure as sharp in his mind as the weeks that had followed it. He would be ready this time. This time would be different.
  18. How To Deal With Fleas

    7th Melona , 3630 BBY Dathomir- Force only knew why they'd chosen such a planet for their new base of operations, but Corvus wasn't in any position to complain. While he was asleep the galaxy had continued to move, and the gears of war continued to turn; what was once Jedi now being replaced with an insufferable infestation of local wildlife. Well, if it were simple animals it would've been an easy enough problem to deal with; eventually they'd learn to stay far away from their domain for their own sake; but, some people believed it best to make deals with the Natives. To try and understand them, to.. negotiate with them, if that were even possible. An optimistic outlook, though most likely not the eventual outcome. There were very few able bodied individuals remaining who'd be able to carry out such a feat to the T; it would most likely end as all deals he'd seen with them did. Bloodshed. Corvus sat at the head of a table, a simple one that could seat a considerable amount of people lengthwise. His hands rested on the tabletop folded over one another, and he seemed to aimlessly look around the library as he waited for things and people to settle down and in. While he hadn't made it an announcement of any sort, he felt a need to bring together like minded individuals to discuss the current state of events concerning Dathomir's 'wildlife' and what they'd planned to do about it, if they planned anything at all and what their thoughts and opinions on the matter were. All bonuses in reality, as the Echani had a much more important intention in mind: Teaching them. The Sith who believed in power over all else would see the folly in their arrogance, while the peaceful and loving of the bunch might turn to face reality. It was truth that there could be war with the Natives. Pitiful, laughable truth; but that didn't make it any less of a truth. Their influence and power had waned considerably since he was last awake, and it tore at him to see the Sith fractured, fighting and screaming at one another rather than unifying to face a common goal. If things continued, if all of them wanted to torture one another and push each other to the brink of death 'just because'.. Dathomir would be their grave. The legacy would come to an end for them, and they'd be renowned for being a kingdom that ultimately fell to savages. So a notice was placed in the training pits, of all places, that a debate would be taking place in a public part of the Sith Library. It stated that age, rank and origin did not mattered; and that you were only asked to come with your thoughts and opinions on the current state of affairs concerning Dathomir and what was happening between the Overseers, acolytes, apprentices and even Darths. It was a ballsy proposition, but not one the likes of being labeled heresy; for the one who held the small conference of people was none other than what some would no doubt consider a loyal pawn to their King. Corvus picked up a tablet off the table and became immersed with it as he waited, prompting anyone that may approach to sit at any of the available chairs if they so willed it until things settled down. Each person would notice several distinct objects laid out on the surface of the table; holopads that looked exactly like the one Corvus read, each containing a series of entries on things ranging from Stratagem to Maneuvering, though none of it would have any context for a person inquisitive enough to take a look through it in advance. All would be clear in time though- as soon as the small gathering began.
  19. There's Nothing You Can Do

    Melona 3, 3630BBY Training Pits, Dathomir Academy The training saber flew from Silas' hand before he knew it, and the teen was frozen as he stared down at the pointy end of another one. His opponent was sneering at him, and the most disgusted expression the redhead could manage was to sniff snootily before stepping away. "Again," the Overseer crowed out, and Silas ended up glaring at her. "Pick up your weapon and fight, Kitsuchi. You're not done yet." "This is pointless," he called back. "I can't really go back to the pits. I haven't been fully trained properly. Can't you ask someone else?" "Can't you suck it up like a good Sith instead of whining like a spoilt child? Or do you want me to drop you off in the forest to get you proper survival training?" The teen's cheeks and ears turned nearly as red as his hair. His fellow acolytes standing around the pits laughed uproariously at the reprimand. His opponent didn't laugh, but Silas could see the unimpressed look sent his way. It's been weeks since Silas got lost in the thick jungles of Dathomir. An Overseer bringing her class out for some survival training found him delirious, in pain, practically raving, and just on the brink of dying from shock. He had a lightsaber burn at the back of his neck that he didn't feel out of adrenaline, and the lightning that hit him had scarred all over his arms and legs. It took him two weeks just to recover, and he spent those two weeks as a jittery mess to scared to get out of bed. He so hated Sith women, then. "I hope you all die choking on hutt spit," Silas muttered, but he was already bending down to pick his training saber. He faced his opponent - another teen, rather thin, tattoos - and slipped into a basic Niman stance. The other acolyte charged forward, aggressive and quick, aiming for Silas' head. Using the Force, the redhead grabbed his opponent's leg, trying to make him trip. He rolled rather haphazardly on the ground and managed to crouch into a defensive position. Silas sidestepped an oncoming swipe at his midsection, and let out a sharp breath when the barb nearly grazed his side. A little annoyed that he lost to this little barve, Silas used the Force to push him away. His opponent was easily pushed back, and Silas smiled smugly at that. He couldn't enjoy his victory long enough, as the apprentice charged forward with an angry snarl. Instinctively, the redhead froze, and he would have probably have an injured arm if not for the Force making warning bells ring inside his head. He managed to dodge a strike aimed at his neck at the last minute, and used the other acolyte's momentum to pull him close. Silas swiped his saber at his opponent's leg. The acolyte fell down into a graceless heap, hissing and spitting, and looked like he was about to retaliate. So Silas swiped his weapon at the acolyte's right arm, earning him a glare. "Good job taking down a mediocre one, Kitsuchi. Thought you'd be a goner." The Overseer waved him over, and Silas was glad that this exercise in torture was over. "Right, you're both finished. Next!" Slaves dragged the injured acolyte off, and Silas had decided that that was not worth his time. So he took off and headed for one of the benches. He was just glad that this stupid exercise in self-flagellation was over, and he could now then concentrate on his interests. Which was learning Force-Based techniques and the Sith language. He just started on the Sith language, and trying to learn its grammar and vocabulary as he went. It's been interesting so far, if not a little rough on the throat and the head.
  20. Helona 4th, 3630 BBY The Dathomir Academy Tanit had become more reclusive during the aftermath of the war against the Republic. There were very few contacts that she had within the Empire that had survived to see the Sith Remnant start the process of rebuidling itself on Dathomir, and fewer still that had returned to answer the call of the Sith'ari. Even in her self-imposed duty to the Remnant she had found no joy in her work ever since the retreat from Bastion. The images of her fleet being destroyed piecemeal had been etched into her memory, and every night had become an exercise in fitful sleep. Tanit burned with sorrowful anger at all the lives so needlessly lost. She felt their deaths in an instant with each vessel the Republic crushed under its brutality, and each instance compounded with the other. That feeling had not left her, and she felt since then that she was directly responsible for their deaths regardless of the circumstances. If the nature of the Dark Side was to provide impetus for change, then it certainly had changed Tanit for the worse. Military command had been nothing but fruitless failure without even the barest hint at silver linings. She had been given a position within the Empire as the Kaar of Military Offense and now she questioned if that was for the best. The works of Emperor Valyrian had come to dust, and she sat within the fallout as the latest entry to the Dark Council. Had she ever truly deserve the seat, or was she a appointed simply for lack of names? That question haunted her in tandem along with her memories of her twin failures over Balmorra and Bastion. If she were to never lead another military force again, she could be content wth that notion. Tanit felt broken by those experiences, and it showed to any that were familiar with her prior to the Dathomir Academy's foundation. Gone was the overconfident sneer, hidden by the mask and tubes of a breathing apparatus she all but required now. The way she carried herself had become more subdued, more meek. Failure had a way of crushing the spirit, and constant failure over a long course of time could do even greater damage. Her heavy armor had been replaced by only the necessities. A breatplate to protect her vital organs, and little else. The armor of a warrior did not suit her, nor did she deserve to call herself a great warrior anymore. Every challenge she had faced since becoming a Sith Lord had only spared her death for reasons beyond her. Perhaps it was good fortune that kept her alive, but it certainly did not feel like she was favored in any way. Even the shock of red hair that she had been so proud of had been stripped of her, going white well before its time and giving her an almost ghostly appearance to match her sallowed appearance. The only thing that she had left of herself from the Empire was the muscle she used to build herself up, and even then it felt like very little. It was the Academy on Nogatan where she had gotten her start, where she had first learned she was even capable of being trained as a Sith. Those times were ushered away quickly by the fires of another war, one in which she made a very real and distinct impact. The return of the Rakata had been ended due in part to her killing Predor Kar'it, but it was not by the force of her arm. It had been quite some time since she had used a firearm of any kind. In the time after the Empire she had founded a publically traded arms manufacturing company under her old birth name. Karnok PLC drew much of her time in the early days following Bastion. She had reestablished contact quickly having answered her former master @Darth Verrin's call to follow to this world, but spent time acquiring and gutting a small Corellian company to turn it to her own ends. They had successfully launched their own weapon, the SR-181, a powerful slugthrower revolver that was capable of penetrating some armors and personal shielding. It was big, flashy, and the last remnant of the boisterous personality Tanit once possessed. She even collaborated with Rendili Stardrive. The financial windfall was little satisfaction though. Commercial success held very little charm after one could claim to command the Dark Side of the Force. Perhaps it was that sense of nostalgia that brought Darth Tanit to the Academy on this day then. She knew her presence would not go unnoticed by her former master, but these new students had no clue who she was or what she had done. Her failures had not been spread throughout the population of newly indoctrinated hopefuls looking to claim the power of the Dark Side. The Sith'ari had changed things and it seemed to be for the better as she stood observing one of the martial training pits. Two students battled one another with training blades in what looked like clumsy Form I. She remembered those days, when she was just learning how to use a lightsaber. She must have looked just as bad. Tanit looked nothing like she used to, but the one thing that those who had known her prior that could have identified her was the heavy furred mantle and cloak across her broad shoulders. Her hood was up though, concealing the upper portion of her face. One student landed a vicious blow, and the other went down limp. The defeat was rather blunt and quick. Tanit walked along the side of the small arena style pit and watched as slaves moved to drag the body away while the victorious combatant received some kind of backhanded praise from the Overseer in charge. She did not announce her visit, rather she wanted to just watch those who had their lives ahead of them and how they behaved. It was almost innocent to see these hopefuls look so eagerly to the mystery of the future. The certainty yet uncertainty of it all. Each of them had to believe they would become the most powerful, but they were so far beneath even the Overseers that to imagine one challenging @Darth Atrox was laughable to her. They would grow, they would become members of the Remnant or die trying, and then they would be lost in the rest of the field that struggled for any upward mobility. She had allowed that entire mentality of advancement to consume her once before and she had been placed well before her time as a Sith Lord. Tanit had suffered for her premature advancement and since then had tempered her own expectations of herself. The Dark Side offered its power more quickly than the Light did the Jedi, but it was still not instant gratification. She chalked it up to youthful foolishness rather than blatant stupidity, but the line between those two was so often blurred that she could only come to the conclusion that she had advanced just as she should have. Her failures were punishment from the Force for attempting to dig too deeply for too much without being prepared for the consequences. She paced around the arena still until she stepped down the makeshift stairs into the pit proper. The young woman that had won the duel reminded her of herself. Arrogant, confident, and headstrong. She was right to celebrate her victory, but her overconfidence would be her undoing just as it had been for Tanit. Her Overseer turned to Tanit and did not immediately recognize her, but dropped to one knee quickly upon seeing the mask and hair. The student soon followed, but Tanit motioned for them to rise. "Please, spare me." she said quite calmly. The tinny filter to her own voice still sounded foreign to her, but she could only remove the mask for so long before breathing became an unpleasant struggle. "Yes, my Lord." The Overseer replied, her own voice slightly cowed by Darth Tanit's presence. It was a rare public appearance and her reputation for violence had not seemed to disappear overnight. It seemed that the training staff of this Academy had been drawn at least partially from survivors of the Battle of Korriban, as this particular educator seemed to be quite fearful of the much shorter woman. Tanit looked up to her and nodded as they both rose from their knees. "Impressive that you knocked him out completely with a single blow. Did this Overseer teach you to be that vicious or are you self-motivated?" She asked the student directly. "It will be through my brutality that I will become one of the most powerful Sith to live in this time." She answered, quite confident in her tone. Tanit recognized that tone as one she had spoken with before as a student. She smiled, but shook her head at the notion. She too once thought that way, but her unmeasured cruelty and violence had yielded nothing but failure. "Of course you will be. Perhaps it will be you that reforges the Sith and not the Sith'ari correct?" Tanit offered, her tone turning more passive-aggressive than it had before. She could abide by Sith students that were confident. Confidence meant they believed in themselves within reason. It was bravado, much like her own before, that caused abject failure. The stumbling awkward silence that followed told her that the student either knew the truth, or knew well enough not to answer. If the Dark Side had chosen Darth Atrox as its herald, then who was she to question providence? Not all Sith were destined for greatness, she recognized that now. In herself she saw power, certainly, but she also knew that her power was not enough to even attempt to claim the title of Sith'ari. Still, now was not the time for petty power contests and betrayal. The Sith were backed into the shadows, if there was ever a time for unity it was now. Tanit looked to the Overseer, then to the student, and back, "A training blade, please." she requested, being granted one quite quickly by the slave that had pulled the defeated combatant from the pit. "You want to be vicious, and brutal. That will be your claim to power, correct? Show me. Attack me with all of your power." She said, removing the mantle and cloak and handing them to the slave that brought her the weapon. Tanit had not entered into a particular stance, but the battle would not last long once she decided to end it herself. She was like a predatory animal just working to tire out the prey on the chase before dealing the final blow. The student was wild, unchecked, and as before, clumsy. Her attacks were often flurries from the same direction, without direction, and ultimately easily deflected. Tanit stopped the final swing of a series and crudely punched the woman in the stomach. "The Way of the Sarlaac is about unpredictable and powerful strikes. You telegraph your attacks by winding back as if you were some kind of athlete hitting a ball. You lack focus, but your determination is not in question." She said, pulling her weapon back upright to intercept an attack thrown more by anger than thought. Tanit still yet could not be hit by the student, but that was the expectation she had when testing her before her Overseer. If she was the victorious opponent in a duel between hopefuls then either the future was bleak or she happened to catch the weakest two working out their frustrations. The student continued with what she had done prior, winding her attacks and giving her patterns away. They were still new to Form I and weapon training and it was obvious. Tanit blocked again and again, and landed her own kick to the woman's chest, knocking her flat on her back. "You're untrained and wild, but confident in your ability. You have yet to show me something for which you should be confident. Your footwork is unbalanced and your knowledge of the basic body zones is bare bones at best. Either you are new or your Overseer has failed you." She said, allowing the student to rise to her feet again. Tanit had to at least respect the woman's tenacity to keep coming back against an opponent she could not defeat. The duel re-engaged, if it could be called a duel. Tanit was going to use this moment to educate the student and in a way that she would hopefully not forget. A series of strikes, more predictable than erratic came again, and following the final dodge she stepped in and struck the right leg with a powerful strike from the pommel of the training saber. She wanted them to feel the pain on a more personal level, "Body zone five, the right leg." She said, emphasizing the correct zone identifcation before stepping back and allowing th student her angry flurry of blows before again deflecting upward and slamming into the left leg this time, "Body zone six, the left leg." and then again back away from the student who continued to grow more and more frustrated. Tanit fed on it, allowed it to flow through her, and enjoyed every second. Another series of blows, and another lesson to be learned from the student. Tanit intercepted the final blow and moved beyond the student, deflecting upward as she went to swing her fist into the lower back of the woman she was essentially toying with. "Body zone four, the back." She said, raising the weapon vertically and downward to block with a push to the right before swinging back in with the blade of teh weapon this time into the left arm, "Body zone three, the left arm." Tanit offered politely, watching her temporary student's weapon fumble out of her grip leaving her open for the strike to the right arm, "Body zone two, right arm." She then held the end of the training saber to the woman's face as she dropped to her knees in pain, "Body zone one, head." She finished. "You have potential, I believe this firmly, but you must focus on your training and not on your success. If you cannot grasp the simplicities of Form I then you will never truly grasp the more complex methods of combat. I trust you will take this lesson and learn from it properly. Study your Form I, train in it every day. Without dedication you will never achieve even a modicum of what you claim you desire." Tanit taught a lesson, one the student now listened to if only reluctantly. Pelko bug barbs were a nasty little addition to the Sith training weapons that were meant to mimic the effects of limb loss to a true Lightsaber, and meant that the student's arms were experiencing something quite physically unpleasant. Worse for the student though was the psychological anguish they felt. This defeat was so total that their confidence had been tarnished, as she expected it to be. "Your overconfidence will see you destroyed by the Jedi. Be cautious, and do not fall into the trap of slavish obedience to simple-minded concepts such as brutality and cruelty. A Sith is more than this, a Sith is a vessel of the Dark Side, not immature emotional tantrums. You will learn to control that with time. For now though, leave. I wish to have a word with your Overseer." She spoke to the student one final time before allowing them to rise and depart from the pit. They were wounded, physically and mentally, but the truly resilent would rise above those who could not make it. Tanit looked to the Overseer once the student was out of earshot, "Please report on this student's progress directly to me as well. I expect you to step up your teaching or I am certain Darth Verrin will find someone more capable than you. Do I make myself clear?" She said, donning her cloak and furred mantle once more. The color drained from the Overseer, "Absolutely, my Lord. I will do my best to improve." she quickly replied, attempting to conceal their fear. Tanit could feel it though, Tanit could feel that this Overseer was petrified at the idea of being replaced. "You're dismissed then." She said, to which the Overseer bowed in reply before leaving quickly. The unconscious student was removed already, and the slaves had gone as well, leaving just Darth Tanit standing alone in the training pit. It was times of solitude when she felt the most at peace, in spite of the Sith Code. Tanit had come to the Academy to watch training among the Acolytes and Hopefuls and ended up in the pit herself. It was an apt metaphor for her life it seemed. She had gone from young Corellian bystander many years ago, and now she was fully submerged within the Sith Order and touched by the Dark Side. If she had to choose to do it all over again with what she knew now, she would not change a thing about her life trajectory though. Failure and all, she was where she knew she belonged and that it was but a matter of time before she finally had something fall in her favor.
  21. Jedi History

    20 Helona 3630 BBY Char was walking in the Jedi Archives. He had been searching for a certain file for a long time and now he was sure that he had found it. "Here it is!", he exclaimed. "The 'Analysis of the Mandalorian Wars; Strategy and Tactics of the Jedi Forces'." This book had been written by a Jedi elder a long time ago. In it, he analyzed the battles of the Mandalorian Wars and the conduct of the Jedi forces. That Jedi Master had thought that it would be useful to extract lessons from the experiences of this war in case the Jedi ever needed to go into war in the future. Char had always been interested in military tactics and history and as such he was only too happy to read that book. He began reading it when he noticed that there was someone else in the archives. Char did not recognize this person. Probably he was another initiate. "Hi.", Char said. "Are you looking for a file?"
  22. Peacekeepers! At the Disco

    Helona, 3630 BBY, just outside the Dantooine enclave... Weekends were always a fun time. Well, for Stell Chevric they were, unless she had some sort of exercise to do. Weekends without exercises were always a fun time. Yes, that was it. She was pretty sure. She was… a little altered at this point. Pretty much, if she was out of uniform, it was a good time. “Look. Look. You got this.” She hefted the huge bottle of Whyren’s Reserve in her left hand. “You take the whiskey and you pour like… half the glass. And then a splash of lum.” Wiggling the lum bottle in her right hand, the pilot demonstrated, although she didn’t have a glass, just a flimsiplast cup. “And then you just top it off with Twi’lek liquor.” “The problem wasn’t how to make it.” The guy she was demonstrating this to was a short little barve, but with real wide shoulders. Made him look pretty funny. He was another Peacekeeper, but ground forces. Stell didn’t really mix with them often. She was a pilot, and that meant she was just better than them, after all. But she had deigned to teach this one how to drink properly. He didn’t seem too enthusiastic about it now, though. “It’s that it looks and smells disgusting, and that it’s got enough alcohol in it to kill a bantha.” Stell scoffed. “Lightweight.” He shook his head and turned to walk away; she found the Twi’lek liquor and topped off the cup. Yeah, it did look kinda disgusting. Foamy brown-green muck, and it smelled like pure alcohol. Didn’t matter. She downed it. The upside was the taste- essentially just like it smelled, but that hint of soapy sweet lum helped a hell of a lot. Went down pretty easy. That was her third one. Well, since arriving at the party. She’d been drinking most of the day. And most of the day before. She’d just arrived here. Stang, maybe I ought to slow it down a bit. With a mental shrug, she refilled the cup with lum (just plain lum this time, though), and walked out of the kitchen to join the rest of the party. There weren’t many people here yet, and there wasn’t really furniture; one of infantry sergeants had commandeered a prefab house in the neighborhoods being built for Peacekeeper families, dragged in a few folding tables, a couple of speakers, and apparently somehow acquired enough booze to run a Nar Shaddaa cantina. Still, there were a few beings around, and it was definitely a lot louder. Hotter, too. Less windows open. She was glad she wasn't in uniform. No stifling collars, just a light tank top. Much, much, much better. Said infantry sergeant, a smiling barve named Olsson, saw Stell’s entrance into the living area and came over with a broad smile. “What do you think so far?” he asked, having to shout over the thumping music, glancing back at some of the other people here. Mostly Peacekeeper infantry, although there were a couple other pilots around. “You’re running out of Twi’lek liquor, but it’s gonna be a good night.” Stell replied, sipping at her lum. Olsson seemed like a nice guy, but she felt weird mixing with the ground pounders. Stang, since Prefsbelt, since before, she’d kinda just always thought they were the dumb grunts. But you know what? They had good booze, and a lot of the guys had nice broad shoulders, so perhaps they weren’t so bad. Yes, she much preferred them out of uniform. “Damn good night.” The door slid open; another human female entered. Stell knew her, a pilot out of one of the other Republic fighter squadrons that had flown over Korriban. She had a big bottle of whiskey in hand, lifting it as she entered and getting a cheer from the infantry barves in response. Stell nodded again. “Damn good night.”
  23. Return to Sender

    Helona 6th 3630 BBY Crash... clunk... clunk... crash... clunk... clunk... The sound of metal bashing and scraping in the distance crept towards the Dathomir Academy. Ahashra had opted to use the force, and the occasional elbow grease, to propel the bucket of bolts of a droid that she had found in the jungle towards the Academy. The whole journey was monotonous, and even more so given that at first she didn’t know where the Academy was exactly. However, the fact that she had found Silas’ training droid impaled to a tree gave her a sense of direction. As soon as Ahashra began to head that way she could sense an ever increasing nexus of dark energy in the distance. For someone who had spent years commanding esoteric Sith organisations, it was obvious then where the Academy was most likely to have been constructed. Upon reaching the Dathomir Academy, the Sith was confronted with a somewhat formidable staircase. It was the most curious of places, in a way, because the structure looked old and worn... back before the Cold War she had heard other archaeologists talking about Sith dismantling and reassembling certain structures, in order to move them but maintain their energies. The dark side virtually imbued itself into the brick, and was too valuable a resource to lose. As the former Temple Lord dragged the carcass of a droid up the staircase she had only one conclusion; she was getting old. That and she was fed up of stairs. The Temple, Raven Spire, Dromund Kaas... stairs... stairs, and even more stairs. Was she the only one who sought to invest in a turbolift when she had the resources to? Perhaps the remainder of the Sith had brought the stone here from offworld to conserve the dark side energies... or maybe they had done it to preserve the amount of steps the staircase had. Flustered, Ahashra finally reached the top, bewildering the goons that were guarding the entrance to the building, the likes of which were probably left wondering why a fully armed Sith was dragged a dismantled tin can along the floor. Frustrations aside, the structure itself was impressive, as always with Sith architecture. Perhaps it was the aesthetics, or maybe it was simply the feel of the place, or even the humanity of it all, but stepping from the wilds into the Academy made her feel at home... to a certain point. The fact that Sith were ever backstabbing and treacherous weighed heavily on her mind as lowly acolytes eyed her from head to toe. Not one to stand and dawdle, Ahashra lifted her little tin can friend slightly and started exploring. Down the various corridors she came across training chambers and all manner of suites for personal use, until finally, after circling back on herself somewhat, she came across what appeared to be the library. Cocking her head to one side, she pondered if this was the Sith library, or merely the library of the academy. Curiosity getting the better of her, she poked her head around the corner of the entrance. Stalling for a moment, her eyes looked the closest guardian up and down... before she decided to proceed. She wrinkled her nose under her helmet, before tapping a button to release it. Step by step she made her way forward, taking in the sights... Tink... tink... tink... The sound periodically followed her as she stepped, exquisite black tiles underfoot. The familiarity of it all... it was like a dream. Ahashra couldn’t help but run her fingers across tables, bookcases... it all brought back floods of memories. Until, finally, the inevitable happened; Maggie. The former Temple Lord stood there, mutilated droid drooping from her clenched fist, herself looking like some rag-tag Kimogila slayer who had just ventured to Lok and back. All in all it was quite a site, the most pleasant part of the picture probably being her revealed face beneath her hood, and so, when Maggie approached Ahashra, she simply lifted her first and the droid, gesturing the pile of scrap towards the protocol droid with a smirk on her face. Life after death was, if anything, boring.
  24. Baby steps

    3630 BBY "Baby steps, Yakko. Baby steps." He looked around to see if anyone had seen him talking to himself, but it seemed that the few people he could see either hadn't heard or decided not to say anything. He grinned at his own antics and reached up to adjust the collar of his 'uniform'. He found the damn thing very uncomfortable, but he couldn't appear wearing something that a country bumpkin from some rim-wards Agriworld might wear on his first outing into civilization. Quarky could see that his master was uncomfortable and nervous about the coming days. He beeped encouragement, and Yakko smiled at the small D-3 series droid. He had first been issued with him two years ago, and somewhere along the line Quarky had developed a spunky and fiercly loyal personality that was... well, others would have memory-wiped him long ago. Yakko had instead spent some of his hard-earned money giving him a light grey and dark red colour scheme and decided that he liked him far too much the way he was. But, back to the task at hand. The facility laid out before him was truly massive given that it had been a set of ruins only a few short years ago, to the point that the recruiter had loaded a basic map on his pad. So, best use it then. It hovered over the pad and going by this, he would have to climb a few stairs before he reached the office, his only contact information having been the room number. It was odd to say the least, but he had seen stranger things during the war. With a mental shrug he stepped through the door into the serene and calm atmosphere of the Enclave. Neither the Jedi or anyone else paid much attention to him or his droid, so he had time to admire the architecture as he made his way to his destination. The closer he was, the more sentients he could see in the uniform of the Jedi Peacekeepers, so at least he was going the right way. Eventually he was stopped by a sentry at a door that presumably led to a different wing of the Enclave. "Identify yourself, please." The sentry, a Bothan maybe a few standard years younger than Yakko, though he'd always found that species hard to judge, held out his hand. "There you go." Yakko replied and held out the datachip that was supposed to identify him. "Yakko Paam, applicant for the Peacekeepers. Twenty-nine standard years old, Corellia by birth and formerly Republic Navy, final rank Lieutenant. Starship pilot." Yakko waited as the sentry compared the picture stored in the files of his terminal with the face before him. It wasn't the first time this happened, after all. "You may proceed. Straight down here, third on the left then the fourth door on the right. You are expected." "Thank you." A bit more than a minute later, Yakko knocked on the appointed door.
  25. It was a beautiful day out. The sky was clear, an errant wispy cloud sometimes passing over the Training Fields, and though the sun was bright it was not hot. Despite the din of lightsabers clashing as Jedi trained, the sound of birds chirping was still distinguishable. Giran Antur sat on a stone bench next to a stream, contemplating its flow. It was burbling happily on its way, winding around rocks on its way to a nearby pond. He smiled, seeing a twig swirling in the eddies around a large, rounded, grey stone in the center of the little brook. It truly was a beautiful day. The Jedi Knight had been sitting there for almost an hour now, just enjoying nature. Today he was to lead a discussion on Jedi philosophy, and there wasn't a nicer day to do it on; he had sent out a message to everyone on the initiate list, telling them that should they desire to take part in this discussion they ought to meet him here at 1300 hours. It was 1257 now, and nobody had yet come- but that was fine. In his experience (admittedly, not very much) they tended to show up a bit later, especially when he made it clear that it was not quite mandatory. And perhaps it was the cliche of the philosophy class outside... but where else were they to do it, on such a day? The Kiffar reached up, fingers rubbing around the grey durasteel ovoid that covered where his left eye had been, scratching at where it met the flesh- a habit of his, when absentmindedly thinking. It wasn't the only distinguishing feature he had; the left side of his face was dotted with tiny scars, remnants of the same event that had taken his eye, and tattooed on each cheek he had two horizontal and parallel lines of forest green. His garments, however, were anything but distinguishable. He wore only standard Jedi robes, though he'd taken his outer cloak off to better enjoy the sun. Perhaps the only thing that he wore that was anything different from any other member of the Order were a pair of simple dark brown gloves, woven of synthetic fibers. He tapped those gloved fingers on his knee idly, returning his gaze back to the stream, eye following a leaf as it bounced around, rocking one way or another until finally it washed up on one of the banks. Reaching out in the Force and motioning with his hands, he gently picked it up, bringing it floating through the air towards him. A typical leaf, he supposed- he wasn't an expert, but it looked just like all the others he had seen on trees in the area. The vein pattern, branching out so intricately... everything was beautiful today, as it should be. Telekinetically, he returned the leaf to its place, delicately placing it down on the dirt and grass just as it had been before. So much beauty in this galaxy. It's a wonderful change from Coruscant to this place.