Monty Tython and the (Un)Holy Grail (OS Dominion of Tython)

[Vrag]

Post count: 6
Location: Ice Giant mountains
Objective: Build a temple!
Allies: [member="Hal Terrano"]​

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ArjlSpxlMp0​

She didn't care for the answer was verbal or not, so long as the former Jedi complied, and comply he did. Without so much as a word, the hunched, sorrow-riddled man walked up the slope of the mountain and along a seemingly invisible path woven between the harsh black rock of the Ice Giants. He could be leading them all into a trap of some sort, or perhaps to the edge of a hidden abyss where he would end his own life. He certainly looked miserable enough to consider the option, and Vrag vowed to keep an even closer eye on him than usual; it would be a pity to come this far only to have him splatter against the ground some kilometers lower, and she had no intention of having all that hard work go to waste.

Then they rounded a particularly sharp crest, and suddenly a new view opened before them; the ancient walls of Stav Kesh stood looming before them, crumbling and ruined by time, yet still instilling a sense of awe in the observer. Remarkable.

"Have the ships bring the supplies and machinery up here. We found it," she was curt and to the point, cutting off the connection in her oggzil almost immediately as she turned the dead red eyes of her skull to the former Jedi again. She stood there beside him in the howling wind that roared around the mountain as if were its last guardian — which wasn't far from the truth, really — appraising his sallow appearance and the lifeless look in his eyes.

"Stop moping," she snapped finally, tired of his fatalistic attitude. "And straighten your back, for feth's sake," the woman added almost as an afterthought, already heading towards the temple proper. Whether he wanted to join her or not, the man would be left with no choice; her detail would drag him along regardless, and even Hal wasn't so stubborn as to have his legs mangled by the harsh cut of the rise ahead.

 

[Khallesh]

Khallesh finally returned to the area on the mountainside where she had spoken to Jun Paarth earlier. It took her some time to move through the woodlands, and dangerous slopes until finding the shaper, but she was glad of the additional exercise.

She found the shaper idly wondering through a clearing, still doing something Khallesh couldn’t fathom with various biots.

“I have a question,” Khallesh announced.

“You dare seek the knowledge of the shaper caste?” Paarth replied, turning on her heel angrily.

Khallesh reeled for a moment, before sticking out her chin and squaring her shoulders. “I did not mean…”

“Now you’re getting it!” the shaper replied, the angry mask fading away to reveal a mischievous smile.

“What?”

“Asking questions! Now you’re getting it! There is a time and a place for following orders blindly, after all if a subaltern questioned your orders in the heat of battle…”

“I would cut out his throat,” Khallesh replied proudly.

“And you would be right to do so! But there is also a time and a place for questions. The rhetoric of the priest caste is not always the answer you know. So, ask away!” the master shaper replied.

 

[Raien Keth]

Location: Kaleth: The Former Jedi Temple of Knowledge
Soon
Location: Kaleth: The Sith Temple of Iron Understanding
Mission: Form a structure that will last the ages.

The Sith Temple of Iron Understanding​

Upon the mountaintop, Raien’s labors had extended to the supervision of the fortified compound, not just a mere temple. By this point the Sith troopers and workforce on the ground had created something magnificent. A dark mountain symbol held high, drawing on his general-ship and the multitude of combats, or long wars he had engaged in. This Sith temple would not be so easy to simply walk into, it had been fitted with a minor shield generator of its own, and four towering turbo lasers to defend from fighter assault. There were numerous defensive positions troopers could fire from if need be along the outer walls, as well as two ground to ground missile banks in nearby bunkers.

Long black steps drew rows of black clad ground troops marching up them, and into the belly of the temple, red banners and symbolism of the one Sith were held high, demonstrating a taking of what the Jedi could not protect, and fortifying their presence here. The troopers would be stationed below the temple, out of sight and out of mind, should a Sith Lord need a small legion at their command, or should a Jedi ever be foolish enough to set upon this would with hopes of reconquering it.

Inside the sleek black order that was restored out of weaker Jedi ideals, was nothing short of controlled Echani perfection in its design, pressured and shaped to be hard ground. Like the outside, ground which lay sick and black, crunched underfoot as boots marched forward progress. Workers laying the final touches to the surface, outer perimeters guards, and harsh surplus training areas nearby.

Underground vaults were still being finalized, as were the temple’s underground bunkers. Finally raised would come the Lord’s quarters above for visiting, and a place for the resident Masters of the Empire to convene if need be.

The corruption of the Jedi’s temple of knowledge was all but finished.

(13)​

 

[Ellie Mors]

Tython

If one were to have witnessed the invasion held over Manaan just six years ago, primarily on the eastern front where the Republic's ground forces clashed with a small group of Acolytes and a single Sith Lord, one would have witnessed a massive plume of ethereal darkness envelope the Republic forces, causing screams of terror and chaotic scrambling as Silara had approached unseen. It was a similar scene to what unfolded over the ancient and sacred world. The clouds parted as though an invisible set of hands tore a hole open, and a drop of blood through water the darkness seeped in. It was as though liquid, so collective that was visible to the naked eye - and its effects were astounding. Thunder rolled as the clouds closest were given a dose of friction seen during volcanic eruptions, so volatile that arcs of heat lightning spread through the sky as the taint descended. And as the darkness dropped so it spread, leeching out through the blue sky that slowly began to dull like the roots of a tree with much more fluidity, almost like smoke. No words were uttered by the Sith Lord as she focused every ounce of her being, every neuron for concentration, on furthering the combined efforts of so many Sith Lords. Although she was perhaps younger than the rest, more inexperienced in their eyes, it was the art of Sith magic, the rituals of the ancient and horrible art, that she delved furthest into as a master.

Where she did not teach she learned, harnessing the dark side not only through raw effort but combined with the genius designs of the old Sith lord Naga Sadow, and the effects of such were profound as the world began to darken, the very soil weeping for mercy as it turned. Within days, hours even, the One Sith would accomplish what had happened sparsely through the past few millennia and it would be more than awe-inspiring. Just as the planet had once shifted between the lines of light and dark, it would now be polarized at its darkest moment, fueled on daily by the efforts of its inhabitants. This world would not simply be a mere example of the cruelty of the Sith, it would not be a reminder for the failure of the Republic and their Jedi Order, it would be a symbol of the all-encroaching darkness that would pervade every facet of society galaxy wide, and it would serve as the new home for the Sith of the One Sith's empire. It would be their new Korriban, their place of worship. While she planned to remove herself from the limelight following one last stint, this would certainly be one of the defining moments of her early career. It would only take a little more power, a little more assistance, for the darkness to fully permeate the planet of Tython, and then it would be a place where their might would be at its greatest, a planet so consumed by fear, hatred, that the very power of the dark side would surely grow with it. Perhaps one day she would return with her own children and teach them the ways of the Sith, or perhaps with an apprentice of her own.

[member="Sena Lassiter"], [member="Darth Isolda"], [member="Darth Veles"]

 

[Darth Timoris]

Location: Site of the former Jed'aii Temple of the Arts in the Edge Forest
Objective: Finish the temple dedicated to duelling and combat
Allies: None - keep away - nothing to see here...
Theme: There’s a room where the Light won’t find you

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pH2Pzq0WtVc

‘It’s my own design
It’s my own remorse
Help me to decide
Help me make the most.

All for freedom and for pleasure
Nothing ever lasts forever
Everybody wants to rule the world.’

Personal interests aside, Melori stood and gazed at the building. It was majestic enough to be considered a fitting temple for the Sith. Clearly styled on another structure, that fact did not diminish its balance of form and function.

Externally it was imposing. She walked across the lake, her feet touching the stones that provided the only access – embedded slightly below the surface of the water. The need for secure footing forcing her to bow slightly to see her way. This was how it was designed.

As she reached the front entrance, her datapad informed her she had two messages. She eagerly opened them and afforded herself a rare smile. Both Sith Lords had accepted the invitation. Although a duellist of sufficient calibre to be named HeadMaster of the Academy had yet to be found who was not otherwise engaged elsewhere, she would be able to confirm that the opening ceremony for this building would be something to be remembered for some time to come. For she could now share the news that [member="Darth Ferus"] and [member="Reverance"] had agreed to duel to mark the building and therefore the Academy open. All that had to be decided was a date.

 

[Yurzhoc Shai]

Location: Planet side, just landing
Objective: Settle an important dispute

Footsteps, meticulous in effort and weighted by mental disruption, lifted the large Vong from the chasm of the gaping maw of the yorik-trema. His armor wore, proudly, calloused scars of wars long ago past, the blasts of slugs and lightbeams flung to the wayside effortlessly. He was a warrior through and through, at least that was the thought running through his mind, as he stepped out and greeted this planet with a look of indifference. Pools of reflective black surveyed the darkness and disruption as he he made silent promise to cut away the distaste of this place, watching quietly as the Warmaster of the great warship strode forward in equal silence.

"What is he doing?" The words came from sharpened teeth, thick in the tongue and accent of the Shai domain, as his amphistaff crawled up the shoulder and nestled deeply into the folds of the armor. "He said he was 'lassoing' a force storm..." He made quote symbols with his fingers as the accepted Warmaster of the Legion Yun'do walked off into the darkness, the trepidation and trembling shakes of the planet resounding in tempo with the footsteps. "What...how am I supposed to know that?" His eyes moved to the side, an obvious roll as he cracked his neck. "I imagine he's got something, Stebbles, but if you're so interested...why don't you go AND ASK HIM?!?"

He turned and kicked the yorik-trema in the teeth, it recoiled and whimpered from the heinous attack as he instantly regretted it. But he was far too proud to admit it, the semblance of the emotion revealed in the clench of his teeth. "What's the matter...?" He pressed his hand against his armor, Slim, and caressed the living exoskeleton. "You insisted on sparkbee honey...without any consideration towards Slim and his well being? HE HAS FEELINGS!" He shook his head, suddenly happy that there were no other warriors around for this spectacle. "This has nothing to do with Erzo..." He mentally nudged the gifted chom-huun and realized that perhaps, perhaps it was Stebbles just acting out in jealousy. He pulled the amphistaff from his shoulder and slapped it hard across the face. "Stop crying...YOU BABY!" He didn't mean it but this thing needed some tough love, Yurzhoc style. Shaking his index finger accusingly, he gave a strong hug to the weapon, caressing the top of his head. "Just...stop crying..." Tears began to well against black, ones of manliness and stuff.

Needless to say, Stebbles was confused. And this was far from over.

 

[Lord Depravious]

The Warship of Shaidin Kamari, Sith Lord - The Lord of Betrayal entered into Tythonian Space. He was a bit late to the party; however, it didn't matter. Unlike his previous attempts to be apart of this new found "One Sith" he wasn't going to be flashy, or try and destroy other Sith for their titles, or for their lands or even for the pride. This time, he was going to keep things a little more low key. A very anti-Lord Depravious style. Nevertheless, the man was a brilliant tactiction and felt that he could provide at least some worth to the dominion of Tython. Alongside is intelligence with battlefield tactics he also had pronounced abilities in the force and in close quarters combat, something the Sith Surely could also use.

Upon entering the system the man could immediately feel what [member="Silara Kuhn"] was performing. A sacred ritual, one that would permanently write her names in the history books. A bold move, but an intelligent one. Tython represented no real economical value to the Sith Empire; however, it was a tribute to the Jedi. Their beacon of light, their fire, their light. The pure symbolism of taking what the Jedi Order and the Republic hold most dear and desecrating it was nearly textbook in the eyes of Shaidin. This Silara person would most definitely be an admirable companion to have in the future. In the moment Shaidin thought of that the captain of the ship beckoned,

"Commander! It appears the Sith have already begun the take over of the planet - we are late."

In his voice there was a moderate sense of panic, something that Shaidin didn't take too fondly to; however, he was in a good mood today - after all he had decided to re-appear in the galaxy at a swell time for some great fighting. He took note of where Silara was performing the ancient ritual and pointed his captain in the right direction,

"We will help whoever it is using a massive amount of the force over in this sector - if we play our cards correctly we could have quite the powerful ally on our side."

And with the mere gesture of his finger the Ship took off to the generalized area of Silara Kuhn. As he approached his devastating aura fed on her own and visa versa. Shaidin slowly began to try and feed the woman whatever power he could in order to help her achieve her goal.

Time to make friends.

 

[Kelon Amadis]

Location: Kaleth: The Sith Temple of Iron Understanding
Mission: Minions and Testing the Temple's Defenses.

Kelon had over his short time, thanks to his personal charm and charisma, or just a big fist and a love for violence, you decide, acquired a small following of nameless minions. Sith troopers but the harder core who enjoyed the bullying, who lacked some of the discipline of the regular rank and file but were good for the work they were picked to do, useful tools of the Sith Lords who sent them on missions to cause havoc. The men got away with it, because they followed him around, as long as they stayed on Kelon’s good side they got free reign on their missions together, which inevitably drew on their skills for inflicting pain or injury. It was grunt work to be sure, and he knew it but the life had its perks till his training started.

Checking out his troopers gear, and having one man beaten for carrying too few grenades, and because he could. Kelon had them test fire their weapons at a few slaves from up high on the temple’s ridges, making sure the defences were sound for the site. They made decent target practice and a few of the troops seemed to be enjoying themselves, good for moral and sport. He preferred targets that shot back personally, got the blood pumping more. Thick black trooper armor on, he leaned back casually to watch the show. Adjusting some of the fitted emplacements and small arms bolted on to the balconies walls should they need it, he took a pot shot with a rifle himself, but nah he preferred to be hands on.

The Zeltrix sniffed casually, watching the weapons at work. Well if you had to do a job, might as well make it one that you liked. "That'll do, time to head out."

(14)​

 

[Jairus Starvald]

Anil Kesh​

Tython System​

[5/20]​

[member="Vrag"]​

And it was almost as if the Sith Lord could feel himself be filled with more… power? Strength, unaltered energy flowing through his limbs and metaphysical presence, almost as if he had acquired a new rank while working on saturating the fields with darkness. A long time ago Darth Carach had been a Mentalist, one of the best in the Galaxy, but things change and this thing had changed with a definite force. Magicks, Alchemy, those fields were his new interests.

Point was, it suddenly was so much easier to cloud the area in his signature and essence, to turn it into a field that could be used to work his magic. A Force Nexus? Perhaps after more work it could turn into one of those, but for now it would simply be more attuned towards the specific signature of his Sithness.

‘Sithness’ is that even a word? No matter, it was a word now.

While Eridium Industrial did its thing with the remnants of Anil Kesh, mostly recovering the ancient rumble for further study later and reconstructing efforts which would serve as foundation towards the keep that would eventually stand here, Carach tapped on the commlink and touched base with Vrag.

‘Hello, Vragzykins.’ the Sith Lord said to her over the link, a grin already plastered on his lips. He might have been the only one who could call her that without being impaled by a spike. ‘How are things going on your end?’

 

[Vrag]

Post count: 7
Location: Ice Giant mountains
Objective: Build a temple!
Allies: [member="Hal Terrano"] | [member="Darth Carach"]​

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ZNJn_qTG9o​

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Her chitinous boots creaked through the spattering of snow, a white blanket untouched for Force knows how long. Decades? Centuries? Granted, the Jedi used this planet before the Rupture — well, perhaps used wasn't the appropriate expression, but Vrag didn't really care in that moment — but their Order was far too hung up on all things sacred and treasured to trample over the pristine snow as easily as she did.

Sentiments.

She scoffed internally just as their small group crested a ridge, her cool breath hissing out in a moment of reverent silence. How ironic.

Before them lay an ancient structure, erected long, long before their time, its walls now crumbling and destitute as if to mark the passage of countless millennia. The black surface of the pyramid below was covered in scratches and dents, but it still retained some sort of sheen that drew the eye and demanded respect.

Another snort.

"Have the teams survey the land and the integrity of the structure," she spoke into her oggzil again, the skull barely moving as icy eyes swept over the Temple before her. "Keep what's useful, demolish the rest."

Before she could get any farther — not that it was really needed, mind you — another call came in, and the woman cocked her head curiously at the signature.

"Hel—" her voice was cut off by the controversial and potentially lethal moniker uttered by the teasing timbre on the other end of the line, and the Hand of the Dark Lord frowned behind her mask. "Carach."

With a quick glance over her shoulder to check on the moping Jedi, the firrerreo moved again, advancing on the once mighty Stav Kesh with purposeful strides. "I'm sure you meant Mistress, dear," she corrected him with a hint of mirth to her tone, her lips curling up into a shadow of a smile.

"And it's going fine. My ass is freezing, but I'll live. You?"

 

[Khallesh]

"Why me?" Khallesh asked bluntly. Her hands remained on her hips and she stood tall, almost defiantly.

"Sorry?"

"Why did you, and the others who either support you, or you support, why did you support me?"

"Oh, I see." The shaper looked uncomfortable for perhaps the first time. Maybe she hadn't expected quite such a pertinent question after encouraging the act.

"Well? I'm not of your domain, I'm not of your caste, I was a mere... "

"Yes, yes, I understand the question. You were young for a subaltern in the Hunters. A great victory for one of the most traditional domains. We sort to re-educate you."

Khallesh narrowed her eyes. "You sought to subvert my own domain by twisting my views?"

"Twisting? No. We're trying to liberate you from outdated traditions. Have we not seen your potential and escalated you closer to the gods?"

Khallesh merely grunted and shook her head.

 

[Kurt Meyer]

Kiran meanwhile had made his way towards the cafeteria.

He was supposed to be guarding this ship, or rather its primary occupant, yet the loyalty of those who crewed it were not in question. Though he didn't particularly like Yuuzhan Vong, he was aware of their strong loyalty to whomever they considered to be strong. There was no need for fear, at lest not right now, there were others who would protect Silara.

Other Sons.

The Cafeteria was what one would expect, oddly fleshy and filled with Yuuzhan Vong eating food made of beetles or something of the sort. He frowned slightly, wandering around the room and checking on the foods that could be found there. His lips only turned into a scowl when he surveyed the meals.

“Well, kark this.” He said turning on his heel and heading back towards the bridge. The conversion of Tython wasn't exactly his top priority, but it was important enough that Alric had sent him along to watch it.

Might as well do the other job he had been sent for.

 

[Khallesh]

“I don’t like it,” Kahllesh declared.

“Don’t like what? Your new position of power? The escalations we have given you?” Paarth retorted, with an over-exaggerated expression of questioning.

“No, you misunderstand me,” Khallesh replied. She grunted as one of her claws extended. The long blade coming out from the back of her hand slick from blood. She was getting used to the pain now, and her new muscles extended the blade naturally. She walked to one side, looking at the shaper over her shoulder, as if she was stalking prey. For once, the shaper looked agitated. She turned on the spot to follow the Hunter, eyes flicking to the claw.

“I like all of those things,” Khallesh continued. Her claw was held up, as if showing the shaper, yet at the same time moving to a position ready to strike. It would be so easy. Despite any tricks the shaper might have, Khallesh could cross the space between them in an instant and tear her to shreds. She paused a moment longer, savouring the new dynamic. “What I don’t like, is being manipulated without knowing why, or having a say in proceedings.”

 

[Darth Isolda]

Darth Isolda would continue the manipulation of the dark energies alongside her Vahla and One Sith counterparts. Power would recoil, shift, and twist like a smothering blanket of pestilence. It would ravage the ground, sucking the life and energies from the valley as each and every death would layer another level of Darkside power to the growing Force Nexus.

A manic gleam would flare within the Chosen of Vahl’s eyes, flaring to an ethereal dark light as sinew, muscle and bone would strain in the great wielding of the Force. More purple blooms of burst capillaries would burst under her translucent skin, coloring her temples and the high cheekbones with their spider thin lines.

A snarl would rip in pleasure pain torment, her sunken cheeks shadowing further as the skin would start to draw taut over her skull.

With great power in the Darkside of the Force comes a great price. Life, beauty, and a corruption of the physical.

Isolda would gladly pay it for the triumph that they would reach today.

 

[Cordelia deWinter]

Cordelia would observe the proceedings of the valley, watch as all that was green and verdant with life get twisted and corrupted by the growing miasma of the Darkside of the Force controlled by the One Sith group. It was an interesting sight to see, a testimony that even Tython could be brought to heel under the will of the Dark Lord.

Just what else would fall?

Either way, today was an opportunity to help and to learn. In this she would also submit herself to the growing corruption.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

Anil Kesh​

[6/20]​

[member="Vrag"]​

‘Mistress Vragypuff?’ the Sith Lord answered wistfully, while twisting the landscape further into a close-approximation of what he needed for his experiments. The land would be used as a channel his power, a well of energy that could be called upon whenever his experiments needed more than the usual buff and fluff.

In the meanwhile the foundations of the keep were still being worked, by now all the remnants of the Anil Kesh had been removed from the scene, they would be stored for later perusal. Carach doubted they would find anything of interest there, but stranger things things had happened before, so he wouldn’t rush into any judgements just yet.

‘I like the sound of that one, we will try it later.’

Carach’s arms swept across the air, fingers locking into arcane gestures as he worked up the magicka to imbue the land further with his taint. This would be grand.

‘Pretty good here, warm, pleasant atmosphere. You should visit, once you are done there.’

Yeah, this would be a good place for his keep. Temperate climate, a lot of trees, huge forest really, mountainside meant that the- well, let’s not get too graphic in here. But it meant a lot of good and potential for further expansions down the line.

 

[Vrag]

Post count: 8
Location: Ice Giant mountains
Objective: Build that #$!@ temple
Allies: [member="Darth Carach"]
_______________________________________________________________________​

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BEm0AjTbsac​

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The Hand of the Dark Lord snorted derisively, shaking her head as she watched the construction teams unload their machinery.

Stagnation, meet progress.

She blinked slowly behind her mask, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in annoyance as Carach kept talking.

"You are so much cuter with something in your mouth," she muttered into her oggzil as she picked up her pace, weaving among the troops and the workers as she neared the looming walls of Stav Kesh. Her boots kicked at the snow, perhaps with more force than strictly necessary, and then the white blanket gave out, its frozen crust collapsing under the weight of living armor and one annoyed Sith.

Tuning out the smug rambling of the Voice in her ear, the Hand of the Dark Lord ran her armored fingers along the polished walls of the building, slowly making her rounds. Most of the Temple was in poor condition, crumbling and destitute, destroyed by the unforgiving howl of the wind and the razor edge of the cold.

She bit on her lip as a cave-in appeared once she turned a corner, her blue eyes squinting for a second at the gaping darkness before she flicked on the thermal filter and foraged into the ancient structure.

"At least I'm having fun up here," she grumbled unconvincingly as she moved deeper into the structure, intent on reaching the inner courtyard and taking a look at the fabled training grounds before she razed them to the ground.

 

[Yurzhoc Shai]

Location: Planet side, just standing
Objective: Learning something new.

The wind wept tears of desiccation, kissing the cheek of the scarred vong as he watched with pools of pitch. Grinding and wincing of sharpened teeth, the world stirred to a conveyance that even he couldn't seem to fathom. "What blasphemy is this..." He spoke quietly and to no one in particular, especially not Stebbles. The amphistaff hung in attacking mode from the shoulder, inspecting the atmosphere with pit organs for sensory input not understandable to the sentient. Yurzhoc ticked the corner of his mouth, visually unappreciative of the spectacle, as the Warmaster turned from respectable demi-god to bog hopper. The warrior couldn't help it, it was funny. A smile cracked in the so often powerfully frozen face, attempting to mask the reception of amusement. With crossed armored arms, he cracked his neck.

"It's escalation, it must be." Like being smacked across the face, he whipped his head towards Stebbles and growled. "What do you mean?" Tilting his head, he turned his attention to the specter in the distance. "Fun? What...what is fun?" Every word was seeped in thick Vong accent but 'fun,' which was uttered in relation to basic sentient diction. "No you daft lizard, I understood your pronunciation. What is it, though?" He began to get frustrated, grinding his teeth once more. As the amphistaff finished the final part of the telepathic conversation, Yurzoc gesticulated towards the man with a pivoted hand. "What is the point of it? Is there a point?" He watched as Reverance pulled out some threaded cord and began to toss it, in a fashion, at the storm that veered on hard corner and cut towards the Sith Lord.

"Stebbles, damn it! You don't need to speak slowly. I understand your words, just not their meaning!" He growled and kicked the dirt, flinging an arm out to the Sith Lord before turning to some Chazrach, standing around as lazily as they normally did. Stupid slaves! "What is the meaning of this?!"

The Chazrach muttered something under his yellow teeth, smelling repugnant. Yurzhoc paused and breathed in, a moment of repose as he understood. The term 'fun' dawned on him, hours spent cutting out pieces of himself for the euphoria it brought him and those of his tribe. He smiled and lifted a hand to Stebbles, patting it on the head. He screamed. "FUN! I LIKE THIS WORD!" Mouthed filled to the brim with teeth, he turned back to watch the Sith Lord land in an explosion of dust, hundreds of meters away from where Yurzhoc now stood. "Haha!" Yurzhoc laughed boastfully. "Did you see that?" He looked back towards Stebbles, hanging loosely from his shoulder. With a nod of approval, he turned back to the show.

"The Warmaster is really quite bouncy!"

 

[Kurt Meyer]

The bridge of the ship was certainly interesting.

It's shape resembled that of many streamlined Star Destroyers, it its aesthetic aspects and its fleshy surfaces were most definitely of Yuuzhan Vong origin. The strange creatures that roamed its decks and the odd fleshy computers that plastered across the hubs were a strong signal that this ship was indeed organic at its core, even if on the outside it didn't quite look it.

Unease filled the pit of his stomach, but not because of the way the bridge looked.

Housed just beneath the bridge of the vessel was the ships Yammosk, the massive brain like organism that conducted much of the warfare for the Fleets of the Yuuzhan Vong. It was this creature, this odd ugly brain that could feel and sense him at all times. He wasn't quite sure why, he wasn't quite sure how, but he could feel it press at the edge of his mind.

It made his skin crawl.

With a shake of his head Kiran wandered over to one of the odd flesh displays peering down at it.

Tython was slowly falling, slowly converting into a hub of something that he couldn't quite identify. Oddly enough, the feeling in his spine slowly withdrew as he watched Tython change.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

Anil Kesh ​

[7/20] ​

[member="Vrag"]​

The only thing the Sith Lord could do was smile to himself. It was so easy to make Vrag all grumpy and annoyed these days, such a self-serious individual with a high regard for herself, it was sad that she couldn’t take a joke every once in a while. Would probably make both of their lives so much easier and more pleasant, but perhaps Carach was desiring too much.

Few Sith Lords these days had a casual outlook in life, it was all about the angst, to look cool in front of everyone, about being that edgy individual with the spiked armor. A sad turn out really, but ya can’t really do anything about it, besides accept the learning how to live with the results of their new upbringing.

‘Coincidentally, so are you, babe.’ Carach replied in a while, coincidentally right when he was done with the corrupting effects and was approaching Anil Kesh. They would have to explore the new foundations, see if there were any problems with it and then go from there.

It took him a while to traverse the space between where he last had stood and the former location of Anil Kesh, but eventually he got there and was treated with the sight of a booming area full of activity and construction.

Eridium Industrial was doing its best to please the wants of the Voice of the Dark Lord, one of the most prestigious contracts they had ever received.