Blood and Sand (OS dominion of N'zoth)

[Via Dolorosa]

Post: {5/20}
Objective: 4.....Searching for Artifacts (Bones)
Location: Ruins (Temple)
Allies: OS
Enemy: More Dark Jedi (x3).....then Sand again

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WC8wxSBSDI0[/youtube]​

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The Sith Lady let out a small sigh of frustration. She had come here to retrieve an artifact and winded up walking into a nest of Dark Jedi; alone. She had no fear of the misguided fools, just no patience to deal with them. She powered down her weapon and exited the chamber, kicking the dead body on her way out. Not only would she be going home with the necklace but new bones to weave into her hair and clothes.​

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She knew the odds were stacked against her three to one, so she would have to systematically eliminate them one by one and avoid being drawn into a fight where they would have the advantage. So slowly and quietly she moved through the corridors following the presence of her next victim to it's source, while masking hers the best she could until she was ready to reveal herself.​

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A chamber decorated with the bones of dead animals housed the next target. Unlike her previous victim, this one was much taller than she was. More physically stronger as well. She would need to resort to trickery to deal with this one, and it appeared luck was on her side. The big man had failed to notice her step into his chamber, since he was busy pillaging some metal crate.​

 

[Vrag]

[3/20]
Objective: Dance
Location: Giat Nor
Enemies: [member="Fabula Caromed"] and her muscles​

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZjmtPkGRFM​

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She wasn't quite here, and she wasn't quite there, the Skerr Ygdris making her something of a blur within the Force even as she moved from hole to hole, like a shadow passing between spots of light and dark.

Not that her moral compass shared that same ambiguity — if it could even be said she had one, at this point — for the woman was, for all intents and purposes, someone who used the Dark Side of the Force. Not because it was "Dark", and because Vrag would enjoy that more than "Light", for some inexplicable reason, but because her pragmatism was… well, pragmatism. If things got in the way of what she wanted, said things would found themselves removed through any means possible and available. And the quickest way was through, not around.

Today, it was N'zoth she was going through. Tomorrow, who knows? Perhaps another city, another person, another wall… it wasn't something that the woman was awfully burdened by. It certainly made her approach to life easier, not having regrets. Were she different, the firrerreo would likely have gone mad by now, driven insane by the weight of heinous deeds she'd committed during the relatively short time in the Galaxy she could, arguably, call home. She would cry herself to sleep at night, trying to erase the stares of the dying, those lingering gazes that seemed to be capable of boring straight into one's soul.

Another reason why the Hand had taken to wearing a helmet. It made things so much easier, especially if one could reasonably expect to be involved in some type of life-threatening situation on a daily basis.

Like a landspeeder hurling at her through the air at breakneck speeds, for example. The ethereal and the corporeal both warned her of the incoming danger, the Force seeping into her limbs as she found purchase against the duracrete of the street, propelling herself forward through the mass of Vong. Unheeding of what became of those who were unfortunate enough to find themselves under the several tonnes of steel and future fire, Vrag charged straight under the spinning vehicle that had no business that high above the ground, her HUD working overtime to identify the culprit of the transsgression against the laws of physics.

Soon enough, the figure was highlighted amid the panicked throng of Yevetha that were quickly realizing that innate violence was no match for the organized, disciplined slaughter that the Sith were trained to deliver from day one.

And boy, was it a figure if she'd ever seen one! Too bad she had to break it over the nearest piece of conveniently placed urban decoration. It was a pity, too; the woman — that much was obvious by now — was quite the looker. Oh, well. Wouldn't be the first time she'd had to destroy a pretty face, and it certainly wasn't going to be the last.

Her focus would widen, her breaths would grow deeper as she neared her target with a cloud of dust at her heels, seemingly intent on tackling her challenger and sending them both into the closest wall. As her heart clenched in her chest, however, that singular moment between a systole and diastole, the Sith darted to the left right before she would bodily introduce herself to the other woman, drawing a wide black demarcation across the cracked ground as she turned herself around mid-step, putting her whole torso into the Force push aimed at the side and back of her opponent.

 

[Isar Kislo]

[1/20]
Objective: Hunt
Allies: [member="Micah Talith"]

Cadeyrn, as usual, was wrapped in several layers that shielded his skin. He would have preferred to do this at night for several genetic reasons, but he knew perfectly well enough that just wasn't always possible. Like Micah, Cadeyrn was very fond of Quietus. He respected her outlook on life, and general desire to do only what pleased her when it pleased her. The young boy didn't much care for the presence of the Republic in Onderon though. He did, however, acknowledge that it was one of the better places to hone one's hunting ability. Cadeyrn had a non-existent ability to interact with most animals...including Quietus. She had to communicate through telepathy and he couldn't really at all, so it just left him with terrible almost deadly headaches. The solution was for him to kick spice permanently and ease into it, but he liked spice more than having intimate conversations through telepathy.

Slowly, silently, Cadeyrn inched his way along the trough of a gentle roll in the landscape. Wrapped in various earth tones designed to blend with his environment, the young darksider waited for his younger cousin to spring the trap. Neither of them were really relying on the Force, and it was good training for the both of them.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Objective: Testing the Sith dental plan
Location: Giat Nor
Enemies: The lovely, probably slightly concussed [member="Vrag"]

There it was. There was the beast.

Fabula had come to terms long ago with the salient fact that she had very little in the way of telekinetic defenses. Her own telekinesis was middling at best, and that was just a recent development. So when a huge wave of invisible pressure suddenly bore down on her body, the Mandalorian had nothing she could do about it. She went flying.

Her body hurdling away from her brand new playmate, Fabula's groan of pain was pretty much muffled up by the loud crack as she collided with a wall. Maybe a dozen feet back, directly into that census office she had recently raided for car-shaped ammunition. Not enough force to break anything on the building, and as far as breaking Fabula went, the Sith would have to try much harder than that. By the time she stood and flexed her neck, her channeled hatred for every molecule of that woman's existence had already mended the concussion she likely would have had otherwise.

She had moved quite quickly to dodge Fabula's car-tillery. Time to see if she could do it again. The Force flooded into her legs, her yellowed eyes dilating in an attempt to take in information at the breakneck pace that she had just accelerated her body to. Within the space of a few heartbeats, she had charged dozens of feet, her lightsaber bluring into an orange flash as it ignited. Her first strike, horizontal and at the level of the woman's stomach, came with power both from her own muscles and from her incredible momentum.

...But Juyo. One strike would never do. As her right arm followed through with its slice, her left formed a fist with the express intent of colliding with something above the shoulders. She was aiming for somewhere around the throat, but the face would do just fine.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

[4/20]
Objective: 3. Recruit a lair of bandits.
Location: N’zoth.
Allies: OS.

With the caress came a certain uproar. Saiah ordered the brute to lay down, and put her foot on his head. The crowd became silent, but she felt the hatred, the shame, the emergence of fear. Until a cackle split the air. Her head directed itself at its source. It appeared to come from the figure seated in the heightened chair. Good, she had gotten his attention then. Yet, this ability was taxing her. She would have to let go soon if she were to maintain a front of ease. She unclipped her lightsabre and pointed it at the brute, then removed her foot and the grip on his mind just before it activated. As the blade emerged with a snap and hiss, it burrowed into the side of his skull. No matter the thickness of his bones, it would not withstand the searing heat of her scarlet blade. He did not even have time to scream, as she burrowed the tip deeper into his skull. Still, the high-seated one laughed and slapped his bony hands to his knees. There was something strange about them; they were so pale compared to the others.

Another wave of unintelligible throaty chatter emerged from the surrounding fighters, and a few of them stood up and spoke loudly, but respectfully to their leader. This, of course, created only more chatter. In the midst of it stood Saiah. She knew not a single word, but she knew a debate when she saw one, she smelled strife between them, and she saw the bony fingers waving accusingly at her. Then, a something loud. Saiah’s head snapped back to the seated one as he stood and raised his pale hands. He stepped forward and down a single rested three skulls, facing Saiah. This one was pale, almost greyish. She had a hard time figuring out whether it was a he or a she as it lacked the distinct features of each. Something irked in the back of her mind, something she had read. A disease? A birth defect of some sort? She was a little surprised, but also a little impressed. Was this the source of the cackle? Then it spoke.

“That was my brother, striped one. He submit to no-one.”

It did not appear too sorry, perhaps it was the humiliation that had defamed its brother, or perhaps it was simply their fatalist attitudes.

"He submitted to me. I hope you are not as weak-willed."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xiVoGrmIm4M[/youtube]​

Post Number: 1/20
Objective: Objective 4 (Because Eva smells and won't let me do Objective 2 :L)
Location: Outskirts of Hariz
Allies: The Dark Side
Enemies: The Yevetha

The wind howled incessantly across the barren landscape of N'zoth, sending whirlwinds of sand and loose dirt careening across the jagged crags and stark plains leading up to the walled city of Hariz. Bleak silhouettes of roaming Yevetha guards roamed behind spiked parapets that obscenely jutted out from the walls. The guards themselves wore relatively modest armor, a simple dull-brown breastplate over an even duller cloth jerkin that drooped down to form a pseudo-loincloth at their groin and waist. While armed with their considerably lethal dew-claws, the guards also had a blaster rifle slung across their back and a vibro-axe hung at the hip. They wore no head-gear nor any type of protective clothing over their shins and feet, their clawed toes leaving small scratch marks in the floor as they passed the same path over and over again for who knew how long, creating a sort of small rut in the stone.

Suddenly a bestial roar washed over the previously silent and sullen landscape, bringing a pair of Yevetha guardsman to stare out over the walls at the rocky landscape out beyond the walls. From a distance away they could see a large humanoid shape moving towards the city, shortly followed by several more as the singular roar turned into a cacophony of screeches and cries for blood. An alarm sounded through the city, and the Yevetha sprang into action behind the towering walls of their city. Then came a loud whistling, and from the sky rained down massive chunks of rock torn from the cliffs outside of the city. They smashed down into the city walls, crumbling the foundations and killing scores of Yevetha on top and within the walls, their dying screams cut short by the thunderous boom of collapsing structure.

It was quite a sight to see what was suddenly besieging the city.

Massive Glycons standing twenty meters tall, tearing chunks out from the crags and cliffs to then hurl like ballistic meteors down into the city. Leather straps fastened a large harness and saddle to the beast's back, burly ugly creatures tightly gripping reins that were connected to various points on the creature's flesh barked harsh orders in a tongue that was all together guttural and uncouth. Behind the roaring line of behemoths was an army of those that rode them, standing side-by-side with weapons both bladed and blaster marching towards the quickly crumbling walls of the city. The subjugation of N'zoth had come at the hands of the One Sith Empire, and with it came the Graug Horde of Fornow, a dark army assembled and commanded by the Sith Lord Darth Vornskr, who rode ahead of the mighty host on a hover-palanquin surrounded by silent Sentinels.

The Host stopped for a moment at the lip of a drop that lead to the barren plains leading up to the city walls, and the Sith Lord consulted the commanders that journeyed with him on his hovercraft. There were two in total, Highlord Osbasid of the Blackblade Guard (Whom had come along despite the severe lack of Blackblades anywhere in this upcoming engagement), and Warchief Vida'rok who led the Horde that had assembled behind them in unending waves.

"The Horde is assembled as you commanded, Lord Vornskr. But my warriors will not stand so idle for long, they burn to taste the blood of the Yevetha." The Warchief spat out in his bastardized accent, sometimes mixing his native language in with the Galactic Basic that he had learned to speak. While many would be aghast to see a subordinate speak to someone who held so much power and command, the Sith Lord merely chuckled and waved away the towering Graug's words. "This is only the prelude, Vida'rok. The calm before the storm. I wish to taste the apprehension in the air before unleashing the Horde upon the city. But if you insist so much, then go... I will enjoy the demise of the city all the same as the silence before it." The Warchief smiled, his tusks and teeth crooked and ugly, and turned to strut off to the assembled Horde. He let loose a quick speech in his native tongue, to which the entire Horde responded to with resounding shrieks and howls, and then at the wave of the Warchief's massive double-bladed vibro-axe the Horde charged off over the lip and down towards the burning wall and the defenders within.

Highlord Osbasid stayed close by the Sith Lord as the Horde clamored down to kill and be killed by the Yevetha defenders, and he then spoke aloud: "I do not understand why we didn't just torch the city from orbit, milord. Why siege the city in such an... archaic manner?" As the battle began as the Horde, a literal swarm of locusts, rushed into the broken pieces of the wall, weapons firing and axes rising and falling with the splattering of blood soon following, the Sith Lord merely gave Osbasid a wry grin.

"To be quite honest, Highlord, it's been far too long since I've enjoyed a good siege. I hear these Yevetha cretins worship death, so I thought I'd give them a death that would amuse me. Blowing them up from space is no fun, you don't get to see the brutality up close. Speaking of which, fetch my armor, I plan to join them soon."

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

[3/20]​

Objective: 4, Duel with [member=Sage Bane] for the appeasement of Yevetha elders
Location: Valley of Rejection

The Hand gracefully dodged the blade, although to Tanek's surprise, it had connected. Though it was but a flesh wound, the crowd roared with excitement, as lightsaber tore at flesh. As expected, they were calling for blood. Expecting the Sith Lord to explode into an aggressive Ataru counter, he brought his blade back into a steady guard, feet firmly planted on the ground. When he realized the attack wasn't coming, he stepped forward, ready to push the attack. However, Sage made a tactical withdrawal, and aided by the Force he was well beyond Tanek's reach.

Sage Bane didn't create the distance to resume the trashtalk, nor to regroup and come back at him with a new lightsaber assault. When Tanek saw Sage splay his fingers, he froze, realizing what was to come next. He knew one of Sage's great strengths lay with illusions and mentalism. By then it was already too late. Sith's about to get real.

While he had received some training in how to craft illusions, and assume control over the weak-minded, his knowledge on how to defend against them was sorely lacking. For this flaw, the Togruta was punished. He felt an intense pain, as the Lord unleashed some serious mental owie upon him. His lightsaber disengaged, and dropped to his feet. Both hands went up to his head, as if that would somehow quell the pain he was experiencing. But there was no making it stop, there was no way to draw it out, at least known to him.

The Togruta was screaming now, as he was brought down to one knee. It must've been a terrifying sight to the crowd. One second the two had been locked in a fast-paced clash of blades. The next, one Sith had performed some serious self-mutilation, quickly followed by the collapse and pained screams of his foe. There would be no doubts as to his sincerity, the best holonet actor could not have copied the agonized cries of the Togruta. Surely, even to the most brave warrior, the prospect of fighting Sith must've seemed a scary one.

The pain built within him, becoming all he felt, saw and heard. It was an all-encompassing darkness that stripped him of any sense of time or place. All he had now was one last desperate hope. It wasn't even that, more a trained reflex that he turned to when all other sensibilities seemed to fade. Peace is a lie, there is only passion. The Sith had trained him to not fear pain, but to embrace it, and use it as a weapon against your enemies. Tanek tried to channel that pain, and gather it all up as he summoned the Dark Side to do his bidding.

The result was unleashed in a violent wave sent towards Sage Bane. It was less focused than a Force Push, with a greater hit radius though it was poorly aimed. In truth, it might not be too hard for the Lord to stand against it, or even avoid it alltogether, but the intention was that it would be enough to break Sage's concentration, and release Tanek's mind from the great torment it was being subjected to.

 

[Micah Talith]

[3/20]
Objective: Hunt
Allies: [member="Cadeyrn Centurion"]

Some say Terentaktek's are products of Sith alchemy. Others think they were simply rancors twisted with dark-side energy. Regardless, they are aggressive and deadly -- at least that was what Micah was told about them. And they were dangerous and deadly, for more reasons than mere physiology. There was a dark side influence prevalent in the lairs of the Terentaktek, and through his own willpower and the help of his cousin-- once he set the traps -- they were both going to have to work together to ensure neither of them were lost.

Well, too terribly. Cadeyrn was a bit more apt to sway towards a more tempting spectrum of the Force, something his mother and father had severely warned him and his sisters about. There was always a level of honesty within the family. One that despite Kira's begrudging concerns, made it keenly aware that being taught and fully disclosed on the repercussions and sacrifices that come with the dark power of the Force would allow an educated decision by the children themselves.

Regardless of the matter, this was a trip for both he and his cousin. A wry thought came to mind. Granted, out in the blazing sun likely wasn't the best scenarios for Cade, but it wasn't as if he could completely avoid it. A compromise had been made that Micah would track and set the traps. Once he was done, he would contact his cousin so that they could both work together for the melee fight they would be required to partake in thereafter.

He would trek along, gripping the Tash Tarel Force Bond talisman in hand. The first part of this encounter would be relatively easy. Simply narrowing down on the dark side presence within the hunting grounds would guide him to one of the lairs. What came next would be the tricky part...

 

[Darth Ophidia]

[5/20]
Objective: 3. Recruit a lair of bandits.
Location: N’zoth.
Allies: OS.
For a minute, perhaps two the two pale ones stood face to face in silence. Finally, a voice cut the tangible silence as one of the smaller fighters stood up. From his posture and the small arms at his side, she expected not to be able to pull off as easy a trick on these as she had on the brute. The pale one nodded and the challenger took its place in front of Saiah while their leader took a seat. Saiah took a few steps away from the challenger while whirling her lightsabre around in a flourish both with the intention of inducing doubt as well as to loosen her wrist for the finer blade manipulations. She turned round quickly and smiled at her opponent while holding her blade out to the right, pointing diagonally to the ground. The Yevetha fighter did not appear frightened; he was an elite fighter after all. However, he would soon understand why the lightsabre was the favoured weapon of the Sith.

He drew two blades, one long and one short, and hissed at Saiah. In a weird moment, she hissed back, showing the split in her tongue. Apparently, this was a greater insult than she had thought, as her opponent charged with a calculated stabbing for her midriff. She whirled to the side and avoided the blade, meanwhile her own blade lashed out in a tapping strike for his eyes. However, her opponent anticipated and blocked with his secondary weapon. Her crimson blade melted into the metal of his blade, but he managed to keep it at bay. She felt his blade press into her side and withdraw. The metal blade cut through the leather, but could not fully penetrate the spider-silk. Yet Saiah took a step back and let the blade slip over her side. She whirled her sabre around and turned her right side to face her opponent. Her blade now pointed up at his chin, keeping him at bay. She could not afford to take hits already.

This time, she took the initiative. She stepped in and feinted a diagonal cut for his shoulder. As he raised his main weapon to intercept hers and thrust with his off-hand, she whirled her sabre around and removed the fingers. He withdrew his hand and retreated a few steps before coming back with a furious rising strike. Saiah stepped back and raised her own sabre, cutting into his movement and leading him to over-reach, then she tensed her left hand and with a twitch of her wrist, a blade emerged. He could see it coming, he tried to bring his sword down to counter, but Saiah was quicker. She got too far within reach too quickly and as the hidden blade emerged from her left bracer, she plunged it into his throat with a quick open-handed jab. The alchemised blades of the Sith Assassins were sharp, and had an uncanny likeness to the Yevethas’ own dew claws.

 

[Jacen Cavill]

Post number: 1/20
Objective: Kill everything, I mean take the capital.
Location: Capital
Allies: Me, Myself, and I.

N’zoth, it was strange to be so close to the core again. Sure, the One Sith ruled over Coruscant and he could go to the former home of his former business whenever he pleased. Why that was still important to him after six long years didn’t matter at the time. What mattered was the arid atmosphere and poor air that he was currently breathing. Wearing his armor, the mask of Nihlus covering his face, he could only snarl under the ancient creation. His crimson cape blew in his wake as he calmly strode into the capital, soldiers advancing before him and behind him. Against the earthy tones, the stark contrast of the Sith’s might was impossible to miss. Tanks rolled behind him, speeders and fighters dotted the skies and the areas around their present location.

The red capes were coming, the red capes were coming.

Kryptus’ commanders all wore the same cape, it was a prerequisite to join him. All of them had risen through the ranks, none of them had gone to officer school right off the bat. None knew of his heritage, but all knew that he placed hard work and effort above everything. To his enemies and those who failed him, he was merciless. For the men who followed in the dark titan’s wake, there was no one who would protect them as ferociously as he would. Nervous eyes kept looking at the blade in his hand, and each would get a sick feeling from looking upon it.

Not to Cavill, he loved Daesumnor.

The Yevetha are close, he thought to himself. Forcing his anger to focus, he felt the furnace within begin to power his body. Every cell tingled with dark energy as he shifted the axis of the universe to himself. Kryptus was no Jedi, the Force bent to his will. Once he had been called the “Fist of The Empire,” and now as their foes set upon them. Only one thought crossed his mind as his soldiers and the tanks opened fired.

It was time to show them why he had been so feared, again.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

[6/20]
Objective: 3. Recruit a lair of bandits.
Location: N’zoth.
Allies: OS.

As she retracted the short blade, blood squirted from the Yevetha’s neck. She pointed her sabre at him and stared him down as he grasped his neck and tried to quell the flow of his severed artery. She would not give him the honour of a good death. Instead, his comrades would watch him gasp for air and claw at his throat. The fear had spread, and Saiah turned slowly to view them all in turn. She issued a universal challenge and she could already see several of them rising to the occasion. She raised her sabre and backed out of the tent, a sinister smirk spreading across her lips. Three stood and followed her out. Saiah was not so good at fighting more than one at a time, but she could not back down from any challenge they gave her.

As she backed out of the tent, they drew their respective weapons. Upon exiting, they fanned out and surrounded her. One of them, rather big one, used only their natural claws. Another had a large vibrosword; a third had yet to draw any weapon, but seemed exceptionally cocky. Judging from their easily adopted teamwork, she presumed these three worked together often. Given their seat in the elite tent, they must be rather effective too. Excellent. She would show them that not even numbers could break the Sith.

Saiah whirled her lightsabre around and turned slowly on the spot, changing who she looked at. As one moved, she shifted her position with her footwork to keep the others from gaining a more advantageous position. They were testing their waters, and Saiah was baiting them. After minutes of manoeuvring, the big one with the dew claws charged from her left. She knew the moment she turned her attention to him, one of the others would be on her tail in typical pack-tactics. Yet she had to respond. She turned her back on the one with the vibrosword and ducked under the first swipe. With the tip of her lightsabre, she made a cut for the assailant’s ankle, but missed. He passed her, and she knew there would be an attack from behind. Pivoting, she almost lost balance as she whipped out her sabre to intercept the large vibroblade. It connected, and severed the handle of the weapon. However, as she turned to face the vibroblade, she had turned her back on the third. Soon she felt the sting of regret. A vibrodagger embedded itself in Saiah’s left shoulder, but she managed to turn as to make it non-lethal. As she whirled about to cut him with her sabre, he had already retreated and retaken his stance. She had no time to think about him as the largest came charging once more. This time, Saiah predicted the trajectory of his claw-swipe, ducked and stuck her blade through the side of his ribs and heart. Burning through his flesh, she tore the sabre out through his back and pointed it at the dagger-wielder while keeping an eye on the former sword-wielder. They started to move again, Saiah had to move; she could not let them get on opposite sides of her.

Next, the sword weilder attacked, this time using his dew claws. His movements were quicker than the first one, but she could still anticipate them. As he came at her, she threw out her hand and launched him back by the Force. Then she thrust her lightsabre out against the dagger-wielder. He stopped only a few centimetres from the tip of her weapon, and backed away. Saiah knew she had only thrown his accomplice away; he would return.

 

[Komo]

Posts: [1/20]
Objective: #1 Capture the Yevetha young
Location: N'zoth, planetside
Allies: One Sith
Enemies: None so far

The One Sith war machine was on the move again. It had been hardly any time since Fresia had fallen to their might, when the empire turned its sights onto the arid desert plan of N'zoth. There was no rest for the wicked. The war machine would go forth, crumbling any resistance while converting more followers to its cause in the bid to fuel the war effort of the One Sith empire. While there was plenty of destruction and carnage to be had in a dominion, that was not what awaited her here today.

Today, she was here to capture the young of the Yevetha, to place them in the mighty indoctrination programs the empire had came up with. The girl was a prime living example of how a follower could excel through the program, fighting loyally for the One Sith's cause. Greta was ever willing in seeking new recruits and converts to the Sith cause, and it was as just a cause as any. Not to mention ripe with opportunity To start this mission off, she would first have to learn about the young of the Yevetha.

Casually browsing through notes on a datapad, Greta learnt that the the young of the Yevetha were reproduced by the females by laying eggs that were also known as birth casks. The unborn as well as the young were both fed with a diet of their species blood, and the blood of any Yevetha were able capable of nourishing the young.

These places where the females gave birth in were called Breederies, a structure in where tons of birth casks were gathered and taken care of, the Yevetha who worked there was often a high ranking individual, who then had helpers, often referred to as breeding assistants, and their task was to ensure that the birth casks were successfully hatched to ensure the growth of their species. The dropship she was in was about to enter the vicinity of where the biggest breedery stood.

She had best prepare for what came next.

 

[Darth Veles]

1/20
Objective: Placing a Mon Cal in a desert, f*cking sadists!
Location: Bloody desert, f*ck you too!
Allies: Memories of Glee Anselm~ <3

Deserts!

Avreet dislikes deserts!

N’zoth was full of those, much to the Mon Cal’s displeasure. All that sand and dust sticking to the amphibious Sith’s sensitive skin dangerously reminded him of Korriban and not even his heavy cloack could fully shield him from the arid climate reigning over the planet, surrounding him as if it wanted to claim the Mon Cal’s life. While greatly hardened by Korriban’s red dunes and brutal Sith training that proved to be a particularly challenging combination for him, despite being more than capable of treading endless seas of sand with nothing more than his mood rapidly deteriorating, Avreet had never discovered anything positive about such environments. His beloved Mistress luckily shared the same sentiment and had often travelled to other planets during Avreet’s years as an Acolyte, taking her Mon Cal with her.

Sighing, slightly frustrated by the endless onslaught of hot air and the everpresent sand that had a way of getting everywhere, Veles continued his trek towards the city of Hariz, accompanied by nothing but the sound of thousands grains of sand crunching under his leather boots. Completely out of his natural element, actually being in the exact opposite, the Sith recalled the much more pleasant memories of Glee Anselm, desperately wanting to be there and not here. The cold, dark sea to swim in. The beautiful and cool underwater caverns to explore. The mucky, endless swamps to wade through. All so wet, soothing his skin with gentle moist kisses. All so enjoyable for the amphibian to be in. But this… !

Not even the sun took any mercy on the poor, poor amphibious Sith who found himself sincerely hoping the One Sith to choose a better planet to conquer next time.

 

[Vrag]

[4/20]
Objective: Punch-drunken dancing!
Location: Giat Nor
Enemies: [member="Fabula Caromed"] and her left fist​

​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Il6CA-nqR-Y​

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​

Her grin twitched with delight as the curvaceous body of her opponent peeled away from the wall, leaving a permanent impression in the duracrete structure — doubtless just one of the many they would inflict upon the city today — her cool blue eyes narrowing with fading amusement as the woman recovered from her introduction to the building without so much as batting an eye.

Well. Vrag's smile faltered as she assumed a stance in the seventh guard, her lightsaber ignited and her posture relaxed despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was in moments like this that the firrereo ever felt truly alive, each and every cell in her body crying out with glee and excitement at the prospect of delving so deep into another being.

Which was odd, for someone who hardly ever expressed anything beyond anger and annoyance, but she was rather enthusiastic about sharing in the base emotions of battle with her willing opponent; in that aspect, it could be said that the woman was much like the Echani.

The similarities ended there, however. There was not an honorable bone in her body, and Vrag knew that full well; reveled in it, even. Naught more but an useless artifact of a bygone era, if it had ever served any practical purpose at all.

No, honor had no place where the Hand of the Dark Lord trod.

Like the flow of water, the woman took a step to the side and back in time with her parry, relying on her footwork to carry her out of the way of the strike that aimed to bisect her, redirecting it downwards with a twist of her wrist instead.

(Now, you might wonder where the honor thing comes in, and it is right here; usually Vrag was the one throwing punches in duels, playing low with knee-jerks and unexpected Force-crushes of sensitive body parts. It was slightly humiliating to be… well, beaten to the punch, for lack of a better phrase, but it was the truth nonetheless.)

She hadn't been expecting the follow-up blow from the side, and even then, that pesky Force enhancement; at any rate, the Sith was too slow, or the… not-Sith was too fast. Or both. Didn't matter in the end, because Vrag was already stumbling, nearly biting off her tongue from the strength behind the hit, and she hadn't even caught the full brunt of it. Even as its owner struggled to maintain her balance, the clawed horns of Skerr Dhaladii reeled, snapping forward in an attempt to catch the offending appendage at the wrist and squeeze, the edges of its pincers akin to that of an amphistaff.

While her living armor did its best to make her foe's life a living Netherworld, the Sith stepped into the narrow measure as she slashed up at an odd angle, the hissing beam posed to cut off the right leg of her opponent at the thigh. It wasn't the most precise of cuts she'd ever performed, and her vision was blurry, and there was the familiar taste of copper and salt blossoming in her mouth, but they were close, and she, too, was fast.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Objective: Grumble aggressively
Location: Giat Nor
Enemies: The lovely but annoyingly armored [member="Vrag"]

The helmet was alive. Of course the helmet was alive. Because not only did Vong work very closely with Sith, but also shared their tech. This all made logical sense. Grumble grumble. Fabula managed to yank her arm back just in time to keep it from getting sliced off, but two very vivid red lines followed along where she had to pull-

Move.

Her enemy had pushed her lightsaber down, then cut up. Fabula's own 'saber was in a perfect position for a defense. Djem So low guard, right side. As she smashed her enemy's weapon away with brute force, the witchknight backed up and shook her hand, yellow eyes narrowing to focus her hatred. And what hatred it was! As if she hadn't had enough reason to want this creature reduced to a red spot on her shoes, now she had drawn blood! Well...momentary blood. Battle lust stopped the bleeding in a few moments, leaving only coagulated red lines.

Knocking her foe's lightsaber wild should have stopped follow-ups, but without a two-handed grip she couldn't make a proper riposte. The space she created - barely a full meter - gave her a moment to consider. The Sith was wearing living armor. It was likely magically immune to lightsaber damage on all plating, but there was no plating on the underside of the joints. Avoid the helmet.

Fabula took a deep breath, blinking slowly, her saber out in a two-handed ready stance, blade tipped forward, legs spread just so. It was a chaotic amalgamation of forms, parts of four, and not the parts that made sense. One thing was sure: it was definitely not defensive, as was almost immediately attested to when she charged again. With less raw speed this time, Fabula put the full force of her...well, Force behind her swing.

Swings.

Her first came in high, a diagonal slice from the shoulder. Or at least, that's what it felt like. It was wrong somehow, and shortly before the blade neared her Sith enemy's body, it became obvious how. Her grip was off by maybe an inch, which angled her blade back too much. Not even halfway through her slice, she twisted her weapon around in her hand and changed trajectory to her left, hacking at her enemy's right underarm.

The first legitimate duel Fabula had had since the Netherworld...where she had lost. Perhaps it was consideration for being out of practice that made her a bit more careful than she was used to being. Maybe she was simply getting back into the swing of things. Neither of these things were on Fabula's mind at the moment. Instead, all she could think of was how great it felt to be fighting again

 

[Arage Bao]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Objective: Expand Influence[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Location: Black Fifteen -- In orbit of N’zoth[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Allies: [member="Cryax Bane"] | [member="Laguz Vald"] | [member="Dakita Calfur"] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.6666666666667px][1/20][/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]There were a handful of constants in the Galaxy, but the one that was directly applicable right here and now? Was the simple fact that Khaleel Malvern worked for one man, and one man only.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]And that man was Khaleel Malvern.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Which is how his presence on Black Fifteen could be explained. It was one of the finest orbital shipyards in the area, a callback to the old Imperial-era mixed with the technical superiority of the Yevetha and their calculative minds. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]It was in his interest to bring Black Fifteen in the fold of Salvatrucha, to have another place that could be used for construction and a simple node of trade/commerce that would benefit the One Sith. Because that was the most important thing that Khal had found out in these later years. It didn’t matter how much you disliked a nation, but one man could not wage a war like that.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]So in secret, behind the scenes he would probably steal some stuff from ‘em, raid ‘em once in a while and generally do some annoying things. But in the meanwhile Khal would make sure that his interests were protected.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Gotta earn dem cash.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]His shuttle was currently moving towards Black Fifteen with a few people in place. Dakita, who was currently having a little vacation and Cryax who had the support of the Sith Lords to operate in Sith territory.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]It’s all about who ya knew.[/SIZE]

 

[Cryax Bane]

Objective: Crimez
Location: In space over Black Fifteen
Allies: [member="Khaleel Malvern"] [member="Dakita Calfur"]
4/20

Cryax had to admit it. It felt really karking good to be slicing again. Even if the only task at hand was securing an open dock in which to land Khaleel Malvern's ship, behind the computer was where Cryax could really show his stuff. Oh there would be plenty of time for more complicated code-breaking during this operation to heist Black Fifteen, but right now the Chiss slicer simply relished in the dance of man versus Yevethan docking bay security measures.

Truthfully, Bane didn't even understand half of Khal's schemes, each of which seemed to be a single strand somehow intricately woven into an eventual web of which only the Bartender himself knew the final design. Did it matter that Bane was in the dark sometimes? Feth, no. The credits would be delivered to his account all the same.

Plus, when a man saves you in a narrow escape from a burning corporate headquarters full of dead slicers, you tend to pay him back with no questions asked.

With a few clicks on the floating blue screen of his ARCs, Cryax swivelled in his chair and gave Malvern a sly wink.

"You're in, Mister Bartender."

 

[Darth Veles]

2/20
Objective: Walk
Location: Sand, dust, desert
Allies: Water

Small part of him wanted to die. Avreet had experienced death once, which gave him a solid idea of what happened to one’s consciousness once the body was deceased. Surprisingly enough, his short journey to the plains of Chaos wasn’t so bad; considering he’d end up in there one day anyway, the perspective of chilling in Chaos with his beloved Queen, his glorious Empress, his perfect Goddess, it didn’t sound bad at all. The mental image of spending all eternity with his one true love lured him back to the world of the dead, which was so much better than this endless desert; the Sith Lord was in no rush to get to his final destination though. While his burning hot journey across massive dunes of light-beige sand was literally worse than being in Hell, he gazed beyond this particular mission. All it took was to push through this desert, this mission, this planet… a torturous experience for the amphibious sentient, truly. It could hardly get any worse, but he had always survived whatever trials had been laid in front of him, be it exploring Korriban with wild beasts seeking to make the Mon Calamari Acolyte their next meal or fighting other Acolytes. He was strong, living through what would have killed any other Mon Calamari. He was a Sith, an Imperial, and even the most extreme of environments was not going to stop him.

The augmentations in his body also found it difficult to provide their user with the seemingly infinite amount of stamina the Sith had often displayed. It became necessary for him to stop and take a short break. The Sith Lord took a deep breath after his brisk pace’s been reduced to the speed of a snail. Hot air flew into his nose, going to the Mon Cal’s lungs, and our amphibious hero coughed. The dryness became unbearable, forcing him to use another dose water. As his large eyes noted on the webbed hand that reached for the flask, the usually moist skin was dry and wrinkled, indicating dehydration. Several long and greedy gulps significantly quenched his thirst and only the Sith’s discipline stopped the Mon Cal from emptying all of the flask’s liquid to his bowels.

With that done, Veles moved once more, a fish in a desert, dark hood covering the large head of his and offering a tiny bit of protection from the sun. The first outskirts of the city appeared on the horizon, letting him know the journey would be over soon. Despite his suffering in this environment, he knew the experience was going to make him stronger. The extreme distaste, perhaps even hate for Korriban might have been firmly planted within his heart, but none could deny the blood-red planet was partially responsible for turning a weak Acolyte into a Sith.

 

[Armand Temi]

Objective: Expand Influence
Location: Black Fifteen -- In orbit of N’zoth
Allies: [member="Cryax Bane"] | [member="Laguz Vald"] | [member="Khaleel Malvern"]
Posts: 1/20

If Malvern thought that this trip to Black Fifteen was a vacation for the Zeltron, he needed to see a psychiatrist and have his head examined. First of all, Dakita wasn’t even sure he had taken a single vacation in his life. She had access to his personal calendar after all. There was nothing but business in there and the odd personal appointment that she frankly wanted nothing to do with. Second, when he was mysteriously gone on those “personal” meetings, Dakita took every opportunity to head to the Nar Shaddaa Underworld to her favorite spice den or nightclub. Sure, she would come back to his office like a bedraggled pink hyneax the next afternoon, having been up all night, drugging and sleeping around. Productivity would certainly be lower on those days.

But the fact of the matter was, the Zeltron assistant/slicer wouldn’t meddle in his private affairs and he wouldn’t meddle in hers. The essence of a symbiotic relationship. Still the man deserved to have some fun.

Sitting on the bridge of the ship, she leaned back so far in her chair, that it threatened to tip over. Tapping on her datapad, she looked over at her boss and said: “Khal, I’m going to book you a vacation. Where do you want to go?”

 

[Darth Veles]

3/20
Objective: Get a drink
Location: Finally, a pub!
Allies: None

The desert wasn’t entirely devoid of life despite being so sleepy and lazy. Small settlements could be occasionally seen here and there, plus the rare sight of inns and shops that heavily relied on tired and desperate stragglers to come in and spent many credits on overpriced provisions. One such business happened to be in the Mon Cal’s way – and after checking his nearly empty flask, the amphibian had decided to enter the small building with a pathetic excuse for a fence and several speeder bikes parked outside, yet its insides capered in uproars of manly fun and touching of glasses. The Sith Lord paid it little attention; he was too tired and thirsty to pay anything more attention than required. Eagerly stepping into the small bar, he was immediately greeted by mistrustful gazes of regular patrons and everything fell silent for a moment. His strange appearance and attire alike immediately branded him as a stranger, someone to be wary of. These people didn’t even need to see his lightsabers that remained hidden under the heavy cloak his body was wrapped it; yet they did not need much of a reason to ironically make the Dark Side stronger as their hostile feelings projected into the Force and offered the Sith something to feast upon.

The stench of alcohol wasn’t so bad given the air was far from being so hot as the one outside, his skin even detected some moisture. Confidently walking to a Chiss bartender that suddenly pretended to pay him no attention, Avreet reached up with his webbed hand slid the hood off his head; no need to appear even more suspicious by wearing hoods – indoors.

“Tea,” Avreet said bluntly, trying out his options despite knowing very well his favourite drink probably wasn’t a hit here.

The bartender slowly looked around before his gaze finally stopped at the Mon Calamari. His rugged features told countless stories of barfights and hard work in this land.

“We don’t have that here,” he said roughly, “You’ll have to order beer, sir.”

Avreet might have been thirsty, but the thought of getting drunk and passing out, only to be robbed, safely prevented him from ordering the alcohol.

“Such a frequented and well-established business as this surely has at least a non-alcoholic juice,” the Sith gently suggested, only to be met by a dismissive look of the bartender who shook his head, glowing red eyes narrowing.

“More beer.” A simple and fair answer, accompanied by the bartender leaning against the bar and staring right into the newcomer’s amber orbs which returned the glare.

One of Avreet’s hands impatiently touched the bar, one of his claws tapping on the badly polished metal several times. One could almost hear the clicking of the metal skelet hidden underneath all the synthflesh.

“I’ll have water then.”

The dozen or so of gazes piercing his back made him feel something was about to happen soon.