Faction Proving Grounds | New Sith Order

[Darth Solipsis]

PROVING GROUNDS | SITH CITADEL
Exegol

Halketh | Lord Letifer | Darth Mori | Dimitri Voltura | Maestus | Donne Toulemonde | Meridine Proxima | Laoth | Ferian Adair | Darth Tennacus | Aemulor the Hutt | Darth Kentarch | Inon | Melydia Gold | Khamul Kryze | Darth Manius | Darth Senthral | Darth Sorn | Arken Rhau | Ahrris | Gnost Zym | Caligula | Darth Vinaze | Darth Bellum | Darth Maleva | Darth Interitus | Jonu Zihtil | Menelik | Ardana Vorco | Darth Maledictio | Chimera | Lamy | Klassht Hsirsi | He Who Was Lost | @the rest of you, I know I missed names there are a lot of you. #NewSithOrder4Lyfe

​

The Dark Side of the Force is finite, a poison that had been diluted between too many vessels, too many 'false' Sith who followed heretical teachings. It needs concentrated among the few in order to strengthen its potency. Kyber Dark was a welcomed sight, the first of many blows to the Sith number as they plunged into civil war. The Dark Side long choked by stagnation now began to shrug off the heretical filth that plagued it like a sickness. The Sith Schism, the birth of the New Sith Order and their purge of the crumbling old order was the cure to that sickness. In their victory they recognized the need to continue the culling, the weak always cast aside so the strong may rise.

The Proving Grounds became both a right of passage and a means for an unceremonious death. Both aspirants to the new order and captives of the old order were sent to this testing ground, to fight to the death to prove one’s worth and merit in the fires of tribulation. Only the Strong can enter the New Sith Order, the Weak must perish.

On this day, the Dark Lords of the Sith gather members of the New Sith Order together to welcome new adherents and test all acolytes of the order in a fight for survival.



[This is a New Sith Order thread to welcome new members and get acquainted whether by making friends or enemies. As the New Sith Order is essentially Banite, you are free to join or not. Your Sith rules themselves beyond the call of the Dark Lord. Watch the acolytes spar or challenge another Lord to Kaggath and steal the show. Make new friends, apprentices, or masters. Or start a new rivalry with one of your peers.]

 

[Darth Solipsis]

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
Proving Grounds

​

Indifferent eyes strained by sulfuric hatred, flames of a galaxy set ablaze wicked the rim of pupils. The Dark Lord of the Sith watched as combatants entered the centerfold of the proving grounds, the crimson eye. There were many new faces here this day, some fresh some slightly new and others whom had graced the order since before Korriban. Acolytes and apprentices, Sith, gathered beneath the watchful gaze of their masters who would watch them face off against each other and the challenges that would be set before them. This was a day of days, a chance to show the mettle of their conviction and the lengths they would go to in order to fulfill their ambition.

“Step forward. Proclaim yourselves aloud.”

 

[Darth Kentarch]

In the aftermath of the 'The Zatitsisajak Heresy' and Sith Schism, a so-called New Sith Order had triumphed over the Sith Empire and other middling claimants who tried to stake their claim. Many Sith were lost in the Kyber Dark purge, which was likely a blessing in disguise. Kentarch, a sith branded apostate, Zatitsis, and the 'Forgotten One' found himself in the company of the new order. This, however, was not a relationship born of kinship, but that of reluctance.

Among the new faces, Kentarch was black-cloaked sith with no face. He was not here to prove something, no he was only here to wrap up some loose ends and make a drop. Within's his robes was a chemical compound the Galactic Alliance created in some failed experiment. He had been contacted and given the mission to recover said assets and for their exfiltration. Naturally, he had been Successful, in and out with no confrontation. Given the state of the Black Site during his extraction, he doubted the SIA or GA ever knew he was there.

"Step forward. Proclaim yourselves aloud."

Darth Kentarch said nothing. He would let the other hack themselves to pieces. He was here to make a drop, nothing more.

 

[Halketh]

DEAD
DARK LORD OF THE SITH
DARTH CAELITUS
The Aegis of Woe | Ace | Lightsaber

​

To say the Dark Lord was fond of bloodsport would be something of an inaccuracy, however, there was little in the galaxy he longed for than drama, and as such, he attended the graven summons personally. Pestilence his cloak, obscurity his shadow, he emerged on the left side of the Sith'ari, gothic vestment shackled firmly around his figure to shield him from straying fire or assault cast unto the arena below. He was open to challenge, as were all present, though he doubted any would find the nerve to do as much. Most of the New Sith Order had not seen his strength outright, a rare few had, even before his betrayal of the New Imperials. Insidiousness was his comfort game, deception his weapon. Rarely it was he exercised the true might he possessed, and rather, he preferred it stay that way.

The thud of his steps carried him from obscurity to Darth Solipsis ' side, his carved face fixated forward rather than on anyone in particular. He needn't look to see. And he needn't see to feel. "One cannot help but wonder," his divine choir chimed ominously from his armor, "who will be bold enough to attend, and who has come to merely spectate. Even more curious still, just how far will they go to prove themselves." Armored fingers entwined casually against the small of his back, and a soft, almost dream-like sigh followed. "I've grown so tired of leading dances," he lamented, "but mayhaps someone must."

His Sight fixated solely on familiar energy in the crowd, locking onto his apprentice. Laoth . The looming Devaronian his acolytes had recovered from stasis on Coruscant, a prisoner once, Caelitus had seen him freed, and had swiftly taken the man beneath his care upon discovering his extraordinary affinity for altering reality in real time. Not only that, but the man himself was a monolith of raw physical power. These things combined to create an opportunity for The Mercurial Saint he would have been foolish to let slip by: a chance to shape and mold a real apprentice into a horrifying powerhouse to fulfill his ends.

"Laoth, break the ice, would you?"

 

[Laoth]

Equipment: Two Vibromaces | Training Armor
Tags: Halketh | Lord Letifer | Darth Mori | Dimitri Voltura | Maestus | Donne Toulemonde | Meridine Proxima | Ferian Adair | Darth Tennacus | Aemulor the Hutt | Darth Kentarch | Inon | Melydia Gold | Khamul Kryze | Darth Manius | Darth Senthral | Darth Sorn | Arken Rhau | Ahrris | Gnost Zym | Caligula | Darth Vinaze | Darth Bellum | Darth Maleva | Darth Interitus | Jonu Zihtil | Menelik | Ardana Vorco | Darth Maledictio | Chimera | Lamy | Klassht Hsirsi | He Who Was Lost | ETC
Location: Exogal - Proving Grounds | Sith Citadel​

---

Rolling thunder and crackling lightning bolts from the world outside echo through the vast halls of the great Sith Temple of Exogal, giving some semblance of life to the otherwise dreary environment of the barren world. Upon his arrival to this place, Laoth found it to be interestingly distinctive from the rest of the worlds he has visited since his time after awakening. Its rocky, wind-whipped plains and distant, clouded mountainscapes offer very little in the way of vistas and vacation spots. Its location in the galaxy made it nearly impossible to locate. And its atmosphere made it just as nearly impossible to even land. Some would thusly and perhaps rightly then call this place a hell hole, though for Laoth the Devaronian, it was actually quite perfect. The horned man with a powder-addled mind cared very little, if at all, for such criticisms at the end of the day. They were wastes of energy, the energy that he would rather have been spent raiding and/or killing the enemies of the Sith.

Truly, he was glad that it was such a disturbed world, for what he did care for was that it was an epicenter of the Sith's darkness. The central hub for the power that gave him the abilities he currently possesses, conceivably none greater than the enduring stubbornness to survive what the blasted Jedi did to him on Jedha. Yes, this is a planet that could make more like him. Those that could be considered battle-tested by day's end. Capable of surviving and slaughtering those who stand in their way. Whether through fire or bloodshed, the Devaronian knows this.

And so, he watches with a surprisingly keen vested interest in what would come of the summoning by the so-called Sith'ari himself, a titan relic of a man named Solipsis who rules the Brotherhood with a tongue of silver and iron for fists. "Step forward. Proclaim yourselves aloud," the great Sith commands with the unmistakable pitch of the ancients. The Devaronian is quick to turn his gaze to the crowd of this arena, their faces illuminated by the many burning braziers and sconces adorning the walls, their orange flames dancing beautiful tangos for themselves and the shadows they birth. He stands in silence among them, back pressed against the hard stone wall at the height of the arena's seating, waiting to see who would be brave enough to enter the forge to become battle-tested. Far too many for his simple mind to count, but even still, the Devaronian came to the sudden conclusion that some if not most would surely die, or be maimed beyond the point of being of any use besides food for the beasts. But they too would be forgotten. Reduced to statistics for how many bodies it took before the terentateks stopped being hungry.

Consider then his surprise when none step forward upon the call of this "Sith'ari." He cocks an eyebrow, arms crossing over his metal-covered chest that still bears the healing scars of his encounter with Ishida Ashina . The rough movement of biceps crossing over one another incidentally splits the end of one of the underarm injuries open, though he pays it no mind, attention cemented on the vestibule holding the Sith'ari and - quite more importantly - Halketh , the man he knows to be God. It was he who rose him from the dead, and he who has charged him with the vanquishing of the fools daring to oppose him. And so it was he who Laoth would seek to honor if he was to fight this day.

As luck would have it, the very same man was next to speak, proclaiming his fatigue with the leading of the same dance performed by the flames and shadows. Instead, it is God's wish that another do the honors, and it is Laoth's name that is called.

"Laoth, break the ice, would you?"

The titan of a Devaronian barely hides his glee at having been selected by his chosen figure of worship. Naturally, he immediately descends the staircase of the arena for the center fighting ring, removing what he deems to be unnecessary articles of clothing along the way. By the time he reaches the hard black stone of the pit, gone are his gloves, boots, chest plate, and bleached shirt. Left only with his pants and knee pads, the Devaronian openly bears the scars gained from Jedha and battles lost from history to those in attendance. In his hands, he grips both weapons he had been using when the call for this event came to him: two massive vibromaces, both the length of his arms and gilded with undeserved resplendence.

He stands in the center, arms outstretched in a brazen challenge to those in the seats to whom he gutturally shouts: "Who wishes to fight and be judged by our overlords of the Sith? Who has the aɕ to stand and face me?"

 

[The Human]

Exegol: Chamber of Sacrifice​

The crackle of the lightning striking along the atmosphere would be loud. Each one threatening to do more harm than the last, with each strike showing the burning hatred of those who tempt fate and destiny. Those who wish to take control, the Dark Side of the Force always willed it to be so. In the Chamber of Sacrifice inside the Sith Citadel, there was chanting of those being sacrificed next to the Dark Side itself. Those that sought to further their own power, or those that sought to drain the knowledge of those that sought the Light. Just a bit away, the Eternal Pyre grew larger as those who were sacrificed were thrown in to fuel its everlasting fire.

As the crackle of the fire started to grow more so, one of the bodies in a very large pile to be thrown in was a human corpse. Meant to be sacrificed but it did not occur, having died on transport towards the Sith Citadel. As bodies were picked up one by one, being thrown into the great fire before those who worshiped near it, the human corpse slowly stirred. The cries of the damned, those who were in pain and suffering could be heard all around. As the humans eyes slowly started to flutter to life, the legs of his were raised up and dragged across the room, his clothing in tattered ruins...some black uniform, maybe an officers uniform of some kind?

"Hurry up! There is still over a hundred bodies left to throw in! I rather be watching the new blood!"

There was a distinctive groan from a dark robed person, muttering over those who had come and went, not having the chance to prove himself. Being dragged towards the edge of the Eternal Pyre, the humans legs would drop while slowly fluttering his eyes some more. The human would blink a few more times as he felt his left side slowly nudged, rolling him off towards the fire. Getting towards the edge, the dark robed figure kneeled over and gripped the side of his clothing, ready to slide him into the fire. The humans brown eyes would weakly look towards the fire as it burned with great intensity. Watching the fire, his eyes would widen suddenly as memories started to flood into him.

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Time moves more slowly here. Each step seemed to echo into the next chamber, the hiss of a door opening. The crackle of an open fire enveloping a large chamber, almost considered a main hall. Staring right into the fire, he had a black glove on his left hand and gently flexed outwards as the fire would be put out with the Force. An echo of a voice would come from afar, his head turning towards a corner hallway.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
​

The memory would end, his thoughts racing to process what had occurred. Feeling his body being pushed over the edge, he stepped himself by digging his right hand and foot into the ground. When the dark robed one kneeled over, the human turned quickly and stretched his left hand out, Force Pushing the person as he remembered...except it was uncontrolled, severely uncontrolled. When it occurred, it was like a wave in the ocean, completely without control and unstoppable. The dark robed one was launched upwards into the wall twelve feet high and a sickening crack could be heard before sliding down killed.

Getting up, he could hear someone shouting from afar as his head still ringed. Stumbling a few steps, he felt himself thrown across the room towards the dark robed corpse he had just killed. Smashing into the same bulkhead, he heard something crack in his own body before falling right beside the corpse. Giving a light groan, he slowly looked up as two red beams of light seemed to been walking over towards him, his glazed vision weak as he looked over towards the corpse beside him, noticing something on his hip as images flooded into his mind again, memories resurging.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Put your back into it Enforcer, block and strike, repeat and keep hitting harder!"
​

His hands gripped onto a saberstaff, practicing against a droid of some kind. Each hit seemed to knock himself off balance before throwing him across the room with a repulsor jet from the droids hand. Slamming a fist down, he gripped the saberstaff more tightly before reigniting the blade and striking much faster, waiting for a moment in the defenses when struck against, taking advantage and slashing through the droid in two.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------​

With the memory ended, he felt a surge of energy go through his body. Anger and hatred filled his body, as if giving him the strength to move his body again, pulling off the corpse the saberstaff before him and stood up, holding it with both hands as it ignited a crimson red. Holding it upwards with a bit of skill, but with knowledge removed, the other two took notice as they held theirs upwards for offensive and attempted to strike at the human, only to get both blades turning off when trying to strike at the activated blades to force him down. The human reactivated them with a flourish, cutting off parts of their torso and legs in a flourish of a spin of his hilt.

With the bodies dropping, the crackle of the Eternal Pyre was all that remained. Breathing a bit quickly from the adrenaline rush, the human would deactivate the lightsaber staff with a loud hiss. Looking side to side, his mind slowly started to form together from bits and pieces with pieces of the puzzle slowly being filled in. The knowledge of himself being some form of...Force User was apparent but of what, he could not figure out. Pain started to finally fill his body as well, groaning as a cracked rib was obviously inflicted onto him. His hatred and anger were gone, replaced with the curiosity of what has happened.

"Where....am I? What is this place? More importantly...who am I? What is being...an Enforcer?"

 

[Blade Ice]

Post: 1
Mood Music: Lick the Pavement
Equipment: Orange Lightsaber (Fire) | Blue Lightsaber (ICE) | x8 throwing daggers | Poison Dagger | x6 thermal detonators | x8 Smoke Grenades | Brown MidNight Duster with Hood
Tags: Halketh | Laoth | Dalos Cameron | Darth Solipsis | Lord Letifer | Darth Mori | Dimitri Voltura | Maestus | Donne Toulemonde | Meridine Proxima | Ferian Adair | Darth Tennacus | Aemulor the Hutt | Darth Kentarch | Inon | Melydia Gold | Khamul Kryze | Darth Manius | Darth Senthral | Darth Sorn | Arken Rhau | Ahrris | Gnost Zym | Caligula | Darth Vinaze | Darth Bellum | Darth Maleva | Darth Interitus | Jonu Zihtil | Menelik | Ardana Vorco | Darth Maledictio | Chimera | Lamy | Klassht Hsirsi | He Who Was Lost

---

Blade did not step forward and present himself at the beck and call of the one who claimed the title of Sith'ari or Dark Lord of the Sith. So many men and women had claimed such titles over his many lifetimes and not a single one deserved it. True these Lords of the Maw could claim they cut out the cancer that had infected the Sith for a very long time now. Even with that success they still needed to continue to prove they could build something better, and that cancer of stagnation would not come back. The Rebel sith took the position he always did with every new Sith Empire and Order that bleed out of every schism.


He watched as one of the other proclaimed Dark Lords announced for his acolyte to present themselves. Blade's eyes were buried behind a hood pulled down over them just enough where he could look out, but no one could directly view his orange glowing eyes. Those eyes that had seen so much and knew way too much for their own good. He watched then as then the acolyte stepped forward and issued their open challenge, as they did a smirk crossed his face and his orange eyes flared from underneath his hood.


Blade could have done what he had done in the past look to the leadership and challenge them all to Kaggath. Test and push them all to their limits, but these leaders of the New Sith Order though hadn't yet proven the lasting power of there order hadn't yet failed or failed those they lead. So, it was not yet time to make that challenge he would wait for their arrogance to lead to stagnation as it always seemed to do with every sith leadership. So, he looked to these men and woman her to prove themselves eyeing them for a moment.


He finally stepped forward sliding the hood back and down unto his shoulders revealing his face. He didn't expect anyone to recognize him or even know who he was. Out of his many titles The Rebel Sith, The Rebel Devil, The Orange Eyed Devil, and Darth Lucid he never expected remembrance as most sith wanted to forget he existed. So many orders and Empires had written him out of there histories because he was simply a major pain in the ass and thorn in their sides.


A cocky smirk crossed the Rebels face as he looked to Laoth and Blade's eyes flared a bright orange for a second. He looked the Devaronian over noting a few things that made them a little off from the base species of his kind. "I will fight you, kid." Blade's voice came off gruff and gravelly as he spoke it was edged with cocky spite. "Though I don't give a damn about proving myself to any overlords, let them sit on their arses and judge just like every dark lord and council that came before them. Let them think they are superior to the lowly soldiers that actually bleed for these orders and empires. Their day of reckoning will come if they stay in the stands judging."


Though he doubt anyone would recognize him from the history books of the sith which had virtually been erased from them all, he did expect a few might remember he had been on Rhand and that this man was some relation to the Sorceress Supreme Tegan Starfall . In fact, he was her father what ever that meant to the outside observer was up to them. Blade never cared much for what people thought of him, who he was, or what he had done. "I'm Darth Lucid." He finally said as he stared at the Devaronian awaiting an answer.

 

[Maestus]

And so it was time. Many had flocked to the banner of Darth Solipsis , and the New Sith Order recently. Unknowns, abilities yet unproven. Worthiness to be determined.

Maestus, for her part, was curious about the newcomers. Would a single one of them be worthy of drawing a breath by the end of the festivities? Or would they all prove as many had before?

Weak. Disloyal. Unworthy.

She would discern the truth for herself.

She entered the Proving Ground with confidence and rage. The rage was always there, barely restrained. She had grown these last few years. No longer was she blinded by her rage. She was learning to harness it. Direct it. Control it and wield it as a weapon. Honed it to razor sharpness and wicked precision.

Crousing to the front, she strode towards Halketh and Darth Solipsis , her master. As Caelitus did one on side of Solipsis, so Maestus went to the other. Before taking her position, she lowered her head just slightly in respect to Solipsis.

My Lord.

Taking her position, she turned towards the congregated mass. Eyes of black rage moved over the unknowns one by one. The weight of her gaze fell on each one heavily.

Upon hearing Caelitus summon his apprentice to the fore, Maestus smiled. Time for the show to begin.​

 

[Laoth]

Equipment: Two Vibromaces | Training Armor Pants
Tags: Halketh | Lord Letifer | Darth Mori | Dimitri Voltura | Maestus | Donne Toulemonde | Meridine Proxima | Ferian Adair | Darth Tennacus | Aemulor the Hutt | Darth Kentarch | Inon | Melydia Gold | Khamul Kryze | Darth Manius | Darth Senthral | Darth Sorn | Arken Rhau | Ahrris | Gnost Zym | Caligula | Darth Vinaze | Darth Bellum | Darth Maleva | Darth Interitus | Jonu Zihtil | Menelik | Ardana Vorco | Darth Maledictio | Chimera | Lamy | Klassht Hsirsi | He Who Was Lost | ETC
Location: Exogal - Proving Grounds | Sith Citadel​

---

Silence falls over the horned man as an attendant of the event finally steps down from the stands, answering the call of the Sith'ari and his God. Bearded and grizzled, the man sparks no memories in the mind of the Devaronian who lowers his arms to his side and allows the gleeful smile to spread even further across his face. He begins to pace back and forth across the field of the pit, stealing quick looks with those in the audience, gauging their intrigue. Some are invested already, others waiting to see what will happen between these two Sith before allowing their interest to show, and some completely absent attention. A true collection of miscreants, prodigies, and potentials.

His ice-blue eyes look back to the unknown man dressed in sturdy-looking leathers, his own optics flaring as orange as the flames dancing with the shadows. A small jolt of anticipation grows in the Devaronian's heart and his grip tightens on the hilts of his maces. With two flexes of his jaw, the second set of teeth inside the Devaronian's mouth emerge and retract as a way to build a slow ache from which to draw power should it be necessary.

"I will fight you, kid. Though I don't give a damn about proving myself to any overlords, let them sit on their arses and judge just like every dark lord and council that came before them. Let them think they are superior to the lowly soldiers that actually bleed for these orders and empires. Their day of reckoning will come if they stay in the stands judging."

Laoth's brows furrow deeply as the bearded man goes on his spiel, uttering levels of disrespect that the Devaronian had not heard of since the trial of Kardue'sai'Malloc, the Butcher of Montellian Serat. His grin falters into an increasingly curled snarl, contorting his expression into a developing masque of indignation at the impetuous speech.

"I'm Darth Lucid."

"And I Laoth," the Devaronian replies with a noticeable pitch of disgust. He twirls his right hand to perform a soft figure eight with his weapon, switching on the internal generator halfway through the motions. The hum is a dull background percussion in between the thunder and lightning strikes in the world outside. "You speak carelessly for one in the presence of God and...your Sith'ari. What burns inside you to make you talk like this? Have you no respect for those who stand above you? Or are you just stupid and think yourself stronger than them enough to produce such babble?"

 

[The Human]

Equipment: Double Bladed Lightsaber (Red), Two Lightsabers (Red)
Injuries: Cracked Rib
TAG: Laoth Maestus Blade Ice Halketh Darth Kentarch Darth Solipsis

After five minutes of disposing of the corpses into a Pyre Pit, the human would don the dark robes and pull the hood over his head to conceal his identify. For some strange reason, this felt rather comforting, his body feeling a small wave of calm emotions but along with it, a seething hatred deep within. A nagging thought told him that those not seen, were the best course of action. Having pilfered the other lightsabers from the corpses, he could feel the connection between them and himself, as if he knew how each one worked inside and out, but could not explain it personally.

Walking up the stairs, the human tried to gather his thoughts, his memories to figure out who he was. Looking down at the uniform, he started to throw away bits and pieces of it, noting a symbol that he could not recognize though his mind went to the word "betrayers". Finishing up taking off all the patches and insignias off his grey uniform, he pulled the dark robe tighter and proceeded into what appeared to be the main building area. Standing near a railing, he could hear the rabble from afar as people walked around and past him without any heed.

Closing his eyes briefly, he could feel a presence that felt familiar but also foreign to him. A twisted feeling, but as if it welcomed the human back into the world of the living, almost comforting him in its suffering they shared. Gripping the railing rather tightly, he kept trying to find the name he so desperately seeked in his mind, but it failed to come to him. Hearing doors open to and far, he glanced to the right as the voice in his head spoke again, telling the human to seek knowledge and advice.

Seeing a group of people star to leave from one set of doors, the human would grip his cloak closer and walk with his head down, to avoid confrontation. Upon approaching the door, he barely slipped inside before it closed and glanced upwards into...a training room. Training room? Glancing side to side, he took a few more steps as a voice rang out from afar.

"Are you lost Acolyte?"

The distinct clang of a vibroblade being placed back into the weapons rack could be heard, a Pau'an glancing over at the dark robed human. Looking now upwards, he heard the voice in his head once again, speaking that the lies he spoke must be genuine but also misdirecting, gentlemen but direct.

"Yes...mess hall I presume is on the lower level? My apologies, I was just transferred here."
"Entering the wrong rooms can lead to your death Acolyte. Yes, the mess hall is on the lower level, south side near the Great Hall."
"Thank you Sir, I shall be on my way."

Giving a short but courteous bow, he turned on his heels to leave while walking a bit further towards the sliding door and activated it to open as he heard the voice from behind.

"You sure you know the way?"
"Of course Sir, just down the next level, just head south."

Trying to take a step out the door, the metal door suddenly slammed to the side with an audible CLANK noise, locking the human in the same room with the Pau'an. Hearing the igniting of a lightsaber, he turned his head slowly to the right as the red hue glowed in the more darkened space, enveloping the Pau'ans figure.

"Curious...we are on the fourth floor, not the ground level and it is west. You are not from around here."
"Again, I was just transferred Sir. I just came from my quarters upstairs."
"Acolyte quarters...are on the third floor."

There was a bit of silence in the training room, the human slowly glancing back forward towards the door. Giving out a small sigh, the human quickly grabbed the saberstaff from behind his back belt and ignited its crimson blades while pushing his right hand forward. The Force had commanded itself to his will properly, even a shut metal door that was reinforced was no match for what power he had contained. The door would bend outwards and sheer off, launching itself off into the railing, bending it outward.

The Pau'an launched himself forward, slamming the lightsabers blade into the saberstaffs, shoving him forward into the railing. Turning, the two would exchange blows against the other with the Human being on the defensive, having to move his body as the blade slammed into the railing, cutting it section by section and only having the chance to push the others crimson blade away. Holding up the saberstaff to slam into the chest with the hilt, it was cut quickly in two, deactivating it and causing a bit of burn damage at his chest, causing a diagonal cut over his upper left chest but did not cut through. Falling back from pain and shock, he felt the Pau'ans hand grip the tattered portion of his uniform, near the edge of the hole leading down section by section, to the ground floor.

"Foolish Jedi...did you really think you could get away that easily?"
"Jedi? Did you say Jedi?"
"For a foolish man, you seem to have hearing problems. A Jedi!"

Feeling his anger flare up from the simple word being told again, he shoved both hands forward and utilized the Force again. Using Force Push, it was almost a wave of energy as the Pau'an was thrown back, not being to grip the Human for long with other Acolytes that watched being thrown back. The human however....fell down from the side, plummeting downwards towards the ground floor. Giving a bit of a yell, his body would smash into the statue once it started on the third floor, feeling something crack as another rib broke and kept falling, colliding partly on his left leg onto the knees side of the statue as it popped loudly. Giving an anguished cry, he finally hit the ground floor with another crack on his chest. Feeling more broken ribs, he coughed out in pain as his vision was blurring from the amount of pain he felt all at once.

Laying on the floor, several heads looked down as a few nearby started to back off when noticing the Human laying on the floor. There was a soft clatter of feet as someone landed with soft steps approaching where the human laid.

"My my...what an angry reaction. I thought Jedi were of peace, justice and calm beings with little pet slugs in their rooms."
"Not...Jedi."
"My word you are still awake! Any normal man would be out like a light, ready for the torture chamber...then again, someone who is a Jedi-"
"Not...Jedi."
"You wear the uniform...you are trying to keep calm. I can sense great anger in you Jedi...oh that word does seem to make you rather angry doesn't it? Now now, stop trying to get up, you will only delay the inevitable Jedi."

The human tried to get onto his feet, feeling his chest constricting his oxygen intake. Coughing a few times, he felt the Pau'ans leg strike into his chest and making him fall to the ground again. Giving another raspy cough, the Pau'an watched with interest as the male human tried to get up once again, getting onto his knees and using the statue for support.

"This is quite pathetic even for a Jedi. Your strength in your anger is powerful yet you conceal it like a hidden blade. Why not use it? I can tell you why...it is because you are a Jedi and a Jedi, needs to be put down like a Sibian Hound!"

Attempting to slash the crimson blade down towards the human, it instead strikes the floor as he rolled out of the way and propped himself upwards, sidestepping out of the way when the blade slashed at the statue before them, commerating a Sith of some kind. The human felt a seething wave of anger and hatred on each application of the word Jedi. He did not know why, it just seemed to set him off being called one, as if it was the greatest insult in his lifetime he had ever heard. The Pau'an tried to slash at him again, connecting this time as part of his head took a small glancing blow between the eyes from the blades tip. The human looked unphased though, feeling a bit of a burn mark and searing pain but it fueled him, as if building up.

"Damn you, why won't you die you worthless Jedi!"

With the Pau'an attempting to slash downwards, the humans brown eyes lit up as they turned a shade of soft yellow, the human males body being filled with an insatiable rage with every ounce of pain being used for his strength. Gripping onto the lightsaber hilts on each side, he would ignite them with an X pattern going upwards, flicking the other crimson blade upwards before sliding them amongst each other to slash downwards onto the shoulders. The Pau'ans arms would fall to the ground as there was some form of a cry before it slashed into each other with parts of the Pau'an now falling to the floor. The standing Pau'an would collapse, motionless to the ground as the humans arms were outstretched on each side.

A small audience seemed to grow around himself as a few started to draw daggers, vibroblades or even lightsabers. The Human went to raise his crimson blades but felt someone on his shoulder, gripping tightly with someone in his vision materializing before him. A Duros was gripping his shoulder, his other hand being gentle as he started to grab each lightsaber from his hands, not being able to move somehow, frozen in place. The Duros made a motion to the others, saying something as his hearing was now silenced as well, unable to even interact with those around him. With the two being deactivated and put away, the crowd dispersing, he could start to feel his body respond again yet the hand was kept firmly onto his shoulder, feeling compelled to move forward. The anger he had felt, it was subsiding, being more drawn into conclusions of anger and small amounts of fear as the Duros spoke, leading him outside as each step was difficult but being done by the Duros will.

"Confusion and anger...interesting. We shall see what those at the Proving Grounds say."

The Duros wickedly grinned, leading him towards the area as they walked down some stairs, feeling a bit of pain shoot through his body before being let go near the other Acolytes in the ground. Dropping onto his knees, he felt his body almost completely give out from pain with the Duros finally letting go. Watching the human kneeling, he did not move or utter a word, watching what is going on unfold before them, all the while the poor human tried to keep himself conscious, all the while feeling his anger slowly rise from feeling useless in this situation and the pain starting to slowly build up his rage again.

 

[Khamul Kryze]

Tags: Darth Solipsis , Halketh , Maestus , Blade Ice , Dalos Cameron, Laoth , Darth Kentarch

The tension within The Proving Grounds was palpable to all, and yet many remained unphased by the thick air of darkness that swirled therein. Not that any of the gathered Sith would show it if they were; this was the last place one would want to show any sign of weakness. As for Khamul, he would stand in silence, eyeing the others that had gathered upon this place of violence. As he looked at each face in the crowd, Khamul thought of which would be worth challenging. Alas, none seemed quite worth the challenge. Khamul felt no need to prove himself to these individuals; his successes along the path to become the leader of his people spoke for themselves. Slowly, the Hellhound's gaze fell upon the face of the Dark Voice himself. Khamul knew that there would be a day that he would have to face Solipsis, and on that day, one of them would die. Such was the way of the Sith. Yet, there would always be one obstacle in his way...

Darth Caelitus.

Khamul had always seen the Carlaci Sith lord as a bit of an enigma. Many were aware of his exploits when he served within the ranks of the NIO, and yet, much of the man's true power seemed to be shrouded. He had often thought about attempting to discover more of the former warlord's secrets, but had pushed those thoughts aside long ago. There was no point in troubling one's self over the acts of others. Should the day come for him to challenge Caelitus, Khamul would rely on his own strength to see the deed done...

Until that day, Khamul had the matter of destiny to attend to.

He would continue to unite his people under his banner, and finally return them to their former glory. The pieces had slowly been falling into place, and Khamul refused to allow himself to be distracted by more personal matters. He would one day take his place as the true leader of the Sith, but not until he took his rightful place among his people.

Nevertheless, they were here to challenge, and to be challenged. If any of these Sith wished to die today, they would be welcome to see how long they could last against the Hellhound of Mandalore. Khamul may have not been looking for a fight, but he would also not back down should the need to kill arose. In the end, one could not truly be the right hand of death without the stomach for great violence...

And Khamul was always ready for great violence.

 

[Blade Ice]

Post: 2
Mood Music: Wait and Bleed
Equipment: Orange Lightsaber (Fire) | Blue Lightsaber (ICE) | x8 throwing daggers | Poison Dagger | x6 thermal detonators | x8 Smoke Grenades | Brown MidNight Duster with Hood
Tags: Halketh | Laoth | Maestus | Darth Solipsis | Darth Kentarch | Khamul Kryze | Lord Letifer | Darth Mori | Dimitri Voltura |Dalos Cameron | Donne Toulemonde | Meridine Proxima | Ferian Adair | Darth Tennacus | Aemulor the Hutt | Inon | Melydia Gold | Darth Manius | Darth Senthral | Darth Sorn | Arken Rhau | Ahrris | Gnost Zym | Caligula | Darth Vinaze | Darth Bellum | Darth Maleva | Darth Interitus | Jonu Zihtil | Menelik | Ardana Vorco | Darth Maledictio | Chimera | Lamy | Klassht Hsirsi | He Who Was Lost

---

"Pathetic." Blade said in response as his right hand slowly moved into his jack and behind his back pulling his twin sabers attached to his belt. In the same movement his left hand reached into a pocket of the Jacket pulled out a pack of death sticks. In his right hand he held two sabers and is left a pack of death sticks as his orange orbs remained heavily on the Devaronian who identified himself as Laoth. He shook the pack of death sticks as s single stick shimmed loose and popped to the top. Blade carefully lift the pack with the single death stick hanging out to his lips and pursed it between his lips pulling fully free from the pack. The stick hanging between his lips he placed the pack back in his pocket and brought out a lighter lighting the death stick in his lips.


"I have met many Sith'ari, Dark Lords, and self-proclaimed gods none of them lived up to the hype. None of them are my Gods or Sith'ari, their ancestors probably didn't even know what the hell the force was let alone the darkside when I was fighting wars against the pure bloods well before the dark jedi came co-opted their culture." Blade talked between his pursed lips smoke bellowing forth with every word he spoke. His eyes dimmed a bit as he spoke of his past so casually as if it was nothing. The Rebel could have claimed himself such titles as Sith'ari or Dark Lord but he never had, he found them pretentious and outright lies. His curse that didn't allow him to truly die in the fashion of a normal being one could even have called him a God but Blade did not see himself as one.


"I am just an old man, who has seen a lot and strength comes in many different forms. Respect is not given it's earned and none of them have yet earned it in my eyes. But since you think them Gods, should you not Kneel before them and beg for their blessing and boon to kick the heathen out of me. Ask them to give you the strength to prove their Godliness." Blade smirk his tone going from serious to mocking at thought of those in the stands being Gods or above anyone. Blade had never kneeled or put himself beneath anyone, how that had pissed off so many of his masters, sith councils, and Emperors he had met.


He took a deep puff of the Death stick as he placed the sabers in each of his hand. He then ignited them. Snap-hisssss One came to life with an icy blue hue and the other was a fiery orange color. He held them at his side as they hummed and their plasma bounced to the thrum. He looked at Laoth a smirk crossing his face and his eyes flared up. "Well get their damn blessing and let's start this damn fight!" His eyes caught the new comers who had entered as well. "Perhaps they want to defend the honor of your GODS, as well?"

 

[Lord Letifer]

LETIFER | NEW SITH ORDER


PEACE IS A LIE​

Thud.

Heavy boots slammed against the ancient duracrete floor, a black shroud cast over the figure emergent onto the scene. The veil rose, the hooded cloak outlining the shape of a man, a Sith.

His haunting visor glistened against the glowing red circle in the middle of the proving grounds, a symbol of power, a symbol of death.The Sith Assassin reached forth, brandishing a crimson blade of his own. With a snap-hiss, his intentions were revealed. No mercy.

Outstretching his hand, the Sith sent a volley of Chain Lightning outward. He attempted to seize the initiative and strike at all combatants on the proving grounds. With this he dove into the fray and struck at the nearest Sith, Laoth , before moving onward with another strike at Blade Ice . He would try to reach each combatant, until he made way to Dalos Cameron

 

[The Human]

Equipment: Two Single Red Lightsabers
Injuries: Lightsaber Burn Left Chest (Moderate), Lightsaber Burn Between Eyes (Minor), Two Broken Ribs, Two Cracked Ribs, Right Leg Knee Cap Hairline Fracture
TAG: Lord Letifer Blade Ice Laoth Khamul Kryze Darth Solipsis Maestus Halketh

The roar of the crowd was evident though his head still rung. The pain from all his injuries were starting to stack up and with the Duros watching over, he could not make some form of escape. The rage that built in him was boiling, feeling the uselessness of the situation as he could barely move. As people spoke around him, his earing barely could pick it up over the chanting, the shouting of acolytes and those who came to watch the fight from afar. The two lightsabers he had from earlier was thrown to the Duros near the ground before him as he tried to grip onto them.

A heavy thud however finally broke through, sending the crowd into silence. Then he felt it, a shot of pain as the chain lightning wrapped around his body. The human would let out a painful shriek of pain, feeling the lightning course through his body as it shot all the pain at once. His mind would almost go blank as his memories started to flood back in, hearing distinct voices in the back of his mind.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Enforcer, you really need to stop doing this."

He laid in a medical bed, surrounded by droids as a woman looked down at him, somewhat in a sneer. Slowly he felt himself getting up, the woman being surprised as two others tried to push him down, one being a Bothan as he shrugged them off. Then there was a loud sound, a crack of lightning and the smell of burnt flesh.

Then another lightning strike, then another one. Rain pouring around him, another lightning strike, more burnt flesh. The cries of pain, the pain of anguish followed him all around. The sky turning dark, the clouds black with rage as the spots changed. The roof, burnt and pain. The ground, burnt and pain. The sound of lightning striking, the sound of screams echoed into his mind. There was another lightning strike as his arm with his lightsaber activated was shot out, redirecting the lightning with a loud sound, a loud strike.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The humans painful shrieks within seconds, became less of a shriek and more of an pained, annoyed groan of pain. The lightning that surrounded his body became less, as if being harnessed as it flowed closer to his hands. Hearing the footsteps of someone approaching rather quickly which is when the Human finally ignited both lightsabers with their crimson blades being extended. Standing up when the person could been approaching, he lifted both blades as the lightning arced around the plasma blades, wrapping them in Force Lightning with the Human supplying his own force energy to keep it going. Lifting both blades up in an X pattern for defense, he prepared himself for any strike that was to come towards him.

 

[Darth Tennacus]

​

To cull out the weak and favour the strong was imperative to the integrity of their great and ancient order. The philosophy of Darth Bane lived on in the hearts of many; for it was his grand revelation that helped seat a powerful and cunning lineage at the head of a Galactic Empire. Through his great purge, there could no longer exist a Sith who would bring their order further into weakness. Through his restrictions, the ancient order of the Sith Lords held no place for the unworthy.

Though the rule and lineage had changed, the ideologies of their order saw to the preservation of its existence. The Rule of Two, although changed, still saw two Sith cooperating to ascend to a higher greatness: one Master to embody power, and an Apprentice to crave it. At the end, only one would survive; but their order would grow ever stronger as a result. The weaker individual would be culled out, leaving the strong to emerge victorious, be them Master or Apprentice.

Darth Tennacus was hoping to rekindle the fires of that ancient rule now that his Apprentice had failed him. Although late to the calling, he arrived exactly at the time the Force had intended of him, for he could reach out to its intangible power and feel the Dark Side that moved around them. The power of the Sith Lords who gathered as promised, and the potential Apprentices who craved to delve into the Dark Side's reservoir of knowledge and power.

He was still not entirely used to showing up to these events alone, but he appeared, nonetheless. In the solitude at his moon base, he had delved deeply into the ancient arts of Sith Sorcery, creating the malicious Xenomorph Sithspawn that would reap the enemies of the New Sith Order in their conquest for domination. A vast swarm had been massed, ready to be spilled as a pestilent horde who were oppressed by no borders. As a great plague they would pour unto the enemy, and every aspect of dread would fuel the power of the Dark Side evermore.

But now Tennacus had begun to realise that he needed someone to embody his knowledge. Much like Darth Bane, too much time had been invested into what he believed was the wrong person; and now the time had come for him to find someone else to inherit the mantle of a Sith Lord from him - in due time. If his youth in the Brotherhood of Darkness had taught him anything, it was that time could not be wasted among the weak. And so he came here after so long an long absence, standing in the midst of such power, letting it pour unto him as an intangible lexicon of data leeched from the Dark Side.

And while he passively horded this information within his mind, he stepped in and bowed before the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Solipsis , ready to uphold the lineage of their order once again.

"My absence has been significant as of late, but my resolve remains unscathed, my Lord. I will revel in the sight of those who have gathered to prove their value to our order."

Darth Tennacus returned back to his feet, turning his attention to the ambitious contestants that had come to express their determination before the Sith Lords gathered around them. The Sith Lord made sure to observe with a keen eye, observing the strengths and weaknesses of potential candidates. Every action executed would serve to feed him the knowledge he sought.

Tell me what you regard as your greatest strength, so I know how best to undermine you;

Tell me of your greatest fear, so I will know which I must force you to face;

Tell me what you cherish most, so I will know what to take from you;

And tell me what you crave, so that I may deny you.

 

[Khamul Kryze]

Tags: Darth Solipsis , Halketh , Maestus , Blade Ice , Dalos Cameron, Laoth , Darth Kentarch , Lord Letifer , Darth Tennacus

Things seemed to be picking up within the Proving Grounds, heralded by the approach of one that Khamul had only seen once or twice. As the new challenger stepped forward, he reached out, arcing a chain of lightning across the whole of the Proving Grounds, attempting to take the others by surprise. Khamul was no stranger to such tricks, and his reflexes as sharp as ever. Reaching out with his left hand, Khamul took in the lightning that viciously arced toward him, allowing his body to channel it through himself and into the very darkness that swirled around his Force signature. He recalled an old teaching of his master, the notorious Darth Petrichor ...

If you fight the lightning, you will burn. Should you wish to stay intact, you must bend instead of break. Become the conduit, and allow the darkness to flow as free as a river...

Only through acceptance can we find strength.

As the teachings of his former master echoed in his mind, Khamul allowed the lightning to flow through him, closing his mind off to the lie that was pain. Reaching out with his right hand, he shot the lightning back in the direction of the assassin until it had fully passed through his body. His former master had been right again, and Khamul hated him for it. Though he tried everything he could to separate himself from the teachings of his former master, Khamul somehow kept being reminded of the man. Now, this assassin reminded him of that... and Khamul loathed him for it.

His cold, masked gaze fell upon the charging man, and through the violent outburst, his words cut a path as wicked as the lightning that came before.

"Insolent vermin. You will not do that again."

His hand reached for his hip, and from his belt he drew his new weapon, Mandalore's Lament. He ignited the blade, and it came to life in a roar of crackling black and red energy, the crimson hue from the black core of the blade pulsating in sync with his own heartbeat. Khamul held the dread blade outward, looking toward the others in the room.

"If any of you wish to die, I will happily be your executioner."

His gaze finally landed back toward the man that had attacked the crowd, eyes narrowed behind his beskar helm. He may have not been seeking a fight, but would be ready to defend himself. After all, he was no fool. At the end of they day, each and every individual in the chamber sought power. At the end of the day, they would do whatever they had to in order to obtain it.

At the end of the day... they were Sith.

 

[Darth Saevius]

Tags: Darth Solipsis Halketh Maestus Blade Ice Dalos Cameron Laoth Darth Kentarch Lord Letifer Darth Tennacus

A moderately sized, unassuming corvette exited lightspeed above the planet of Exegol. Most would potentially assume the ship - and those within it - were lost, but such a notion was disabused by the simple fact that Exegol was not a planet one accidentally happened upon. No, Exegol was only visited by those who meant to do so. The tall, forbidding visage of Darth Saevius stood at the observation deck of his ship as the small crew under his command set about finalizing their approach. He found this world through a wayfinder he discovered during his travels into the unknown regions of space. He had discovered much during his journey of enlightenment, including the gem which led him here. Rumors abounded about the location of the Brotherhood of the Maw's citadel, and its location. And he had found it.

Still more questioned why exactly he wanted to find it, but he owed no one answers to said questions. His reasons were his own, and those who had served him for any length of time knew well to not question that. Suffice to say, this 'Brotherhood' was a different animal as opposed to the previous iterations of the Sith as a collective people. Where the Sith Empire had grown stagnant and weak, the Brotherhood was ascendant despite the rest of the galaxy's best efforts to extinguish its flame which waxed into an inferno - primed to engulf the galaxy. Darth Solipsis specifically had drawn much attention to himself, with his grandiose proclamations of forcibly reshaping the galaxy into an image of his liking. Such bravado and vainglory were not normally something Saevius associated himself with. But, it had been a long time since such an entity had existed in the galaxy. It would prove to be the perfect distraction to allow him to pursue his own ends.

For too long, while he had explored the edges of known space and beyond, he was also on the run himself. As much as it chagrined him to think, associating himself with an entity that admittedly had shown its own strength to a certain degree, would allow him to pursue the work he so desperately wished to return to. If that meant ingratiating himself amongst those who believed themselves superior, then so be it. He would allow others to bluster about their power, while he attained true power in the shadows. True power wasn't spoken of - it simply was. Perhaps his presence within the Brotherhood would demonstrate that amongst the younger ones of this 'New Sith Order'. Perhaps he could find an apprentice worthy of his time; a young mind to shape into his image. But he was getting ahead of himself.

A lone shuttle departed from his Corvette, which soon touched down upon the craggy surface. Only Saevius emerged from the shuttle, hooded and cloaked with his hands rested within his sleeves in front of him. His yellow-touched eyes regarded the imposing edifice before him, and without a word he proceeded into the construct. No one stopped him, either due to the fact no guards were positioned on the exterior of the Citadel or even within the citadel, or perhaps because of the manner in which the Sith Lord carried himself. Although his features carried a demure, near-emotionless expression, it would be clear to all who met the enigmatic Sith that he was not one to be trifled with. He exuded power to even the most dulled of senses. He did not go to any special effort to remain emotionless in his appearance, as the misguided Jedi did in a futile efforts to deny their own nature. He simply felt no need to project his power in the animalistic manners others who called themselves Sith saw fit to do. His power was within, and he felt no special need to make overtures of that fact. Such demonstrations would be made in due time, if the situation demanded it.

He made his way into the bowels of the Citadel, the force guiding him to the proving grounds beneath the structure. Guards eventually could be seen near the area he neared, but they did nothing to prevent his entry. It was only when he entered that he spied the melee which had unfolded in the middle of the arena. Several aspirants dueled within the pit, while what Saevius perceived to be more senior 'Lords' of the order spectated from their positions above. He would not make himself known quite yet - after all, if these 'masters of the force' were as powerful as they so claimed, his arrival would be obvious to them. He would also not be guilty of interrupting the barbaric displays of martial prowess occurring before him. This was not his order - not yet. He was but a stranger to them. It would take time to weave his webs; to strengthen his tendrils within this order. If they proved themselves to him, of course. And if he proved himself to them.

​

 

[Kahlil Noble]

Proving grounds for Sith were more akin to slaughter houses. He remembered them from his own youth. Even as a Sith he tried his best to avoid such places. Now? It was a matter of necessity that he arrived. Clad in black he kept to the shadows, watching, listening. Curiously observing this New Sith Order and just what kind of Sith survived within. Power radiated from numerous.

It wasn't just another group making a claim they couldn't back up.

Under his hood orange eyes watched. Waited. Learned. Much could be learned from simply observing.

 

[Laoth]

Equipment: Two Vibromaces | Training Armor Pants
Tags: Halketh | Lord Letifer | Darth Mori | Dimitri Voltura | Maestus | Donne Toulemonde | Meridine Proxima | Ferian Adair | Darth Tennacus | Aemulor the Hutt | Darth Kentarch | Inon | Melydia Gold | Khamul Kryze | Darth Manius | Darth Senthral | Darth Sorn | Arken Rhau | Ahrris | Gnost Zym | Caligula | Darth Vinaze | Darth Bellum | Darth Maleva | Darth Interitus | Jonu Zihtil | Menelik | Ardana Vorco | Darth Maledictio | Chimera | Lamy | Klassht Hsirsi | He Who Was Lost | ETC
Location: Exogal - Proving Grounds | Sith Citadel​

---

The horned man's faltered smile glistens anew with a flash of his teeth, his hawk-like stare locked onto the bearded man who raves against the very foundations of He who brought the Devaronian back to life. In globulous piles of verbiage, heathenous statements spew forth from his mouth. In these statements, the charlatan claims the existence of many Sith'ari's, many Dark Lords, and many who declared themselves as God in the face of the Galaxy's denizens. And in tones of utter disrespect, he spits on the reverence they have demanded in their own lifetimes; on the fear that should have come from the proclamations of their divine power. In the eyes of Laoth, this is akin to sentencing himself to death and admitting his failures in faith to those who deserve it.

Well, only one who deserves it. Of course, the horned man truly cares little for the Sith'ari or those Gods who lived long ago, before his own was recognized. The man in the vestibule alongside this so-called Sith'ari is Laoth's icon of worship, the aptly named Mercurial Saint as he had heard whispered throughout the halls of the Citadel. However, would he be a good servant if he did not defend the honor of the ones who fought alongside God, his dark angels of violence?

The Devaronian twirls his hefty weapons in more series of figure eights as the man nears the ending of his rant, himself igniting two of the ancient weapons of the Force Users - a fiery orange lightsaber resembling the light of Mustafar, and a blue lightsaber with a blade as blue as frozen diamonds. Laoth's smile brightens more to its unnatural rictus, the lumbering oaf beginning to step forward with booming dents through the soot-layered pit, stalking towards his foe upon the challenge made with punctuation of thunder. The cold stone feels almost agonizing under his bare feet as he steps closer, the chilliness of it creating a great discomfort through his body akin to the tensed-up anxiety of an Ugnaut outside of his workshop. The horned man draws closer, closer, closer with tightening hands around the hilts of his maces, ready to lash forward as a Nexu, perhaps an Aklay even, and strike down this offender of the auditory senses.

​

At least, until he is assailed by jolts of lightning.

Alerted to the coming attack by the preternatural senses of the Force, Laoth is barely reactive enough to brace himself against the attack with his weapons, the lightning striking the metallic surface of the vibromaces and still pushing him back with the impact. His bare feet slide on the floor of the pit, kicking soot and old bone dust into the air, lit into better sight by the burning braziers and sconces. His smile vanishes into a teeth-clenching grimace accompanied by a pained groan escaping his lips. Shaking his head, the horned man attempts to rebalance himself on suddenly wobbling legs, eyes stuck to the floor.

Droplets of black and a sudden wave of warmness on his bare skin draws his attention to himself, his blue eyes widening with surprise to see that the stitched wounds across his body sustained from Ishida Ashina have instantly split open, either from the attack or his involuntary movements. He does not know which. What he does know, however, is that they have opened wide enough to draw trickles of black blood from his healing musculature. The wounds on his chest are particularly profuse, and it won't be long before these trickles of blood turn into sheets of dark plasma. A smirk of humor tears the lining in the left corner of his mouth - done so by an unintended flexing of his second set of teeth that grazes his lips with the back fangs. New paintings of ichor shall begin this day, it seems.

His gaze shifts upward, trying to find and focus on whoever had dared to interrupt these proceedings with such a cowardly sneak attack.

 

[Darth Kentarch]

The arena quickly filled with combatants eager to prove their strength among the New Sith Order. Attention was fixed on the arena, Kentarch used this moment to slip around the crowd and move to Darth Solipsis . From his cloak, he produced a small case that held the vials retrieved from the SIA black site on Jedha. Yet Kentarch did not bother pleasantries or introductions as he came before Solipsis.

"The chemical compound from Jedha." His tone was clearly annoyed. "Two-Hundred ccs, 4 vials, fifty apiece. Your love potion. I got in and out unnoticed. The GA set charges throughout the facility, attempting to sabotage their own secrets before a larger NSO force secured the facility. The extensive destruction of the inventory and my successful infiltration means the GA will have no solid leads that you have this weapon in your possession."

The cloak Sith pointed to Solipsis. "However, whoever gave the orders got sloppy. A Lethan Sith was also onsite, she was far less than subtle and could have blown the operation. Another Sith Lord arrived later with a spec-ops team, drawing much far too much attention." Kentarch was not pleased, and while this was not likely the best time to air such grievances. He did so Anyways. He set the carry case on a nearby table and turned back to Solipsis. "But none the less I completed the mission."