Sithisis (TSE)

[Ras'kala'han]

| THE SERTAR SECTOR |​

The Outer Rim Territories​

​

How easy it was, to sit back and watch the Galaxy turn. It turns with you, or it turns without you, but it never turns about you. In his youth. this sort of blithe truism would do nothing but curdle Antherion's rage - no, now he had little choice but to accept it. From his long humiliation to his longer imprisonment, the ancient Sith was finding his schemings weighed little on the fate of any Empire, or Galaxy, or even but a planet. For a while, he just waited in languid and (though he would dare not say it, much less admit it to himself) peaceful study. He unfurled the histories of the times long gone, the knowledge that had pushed past him and progressed.

Now, he would wait no longer. Though it may rise, and rest, the anger deep within him arose again. He felt ripplings in the Force that called him to action, and the insistent visions in the back of his mind grew clearer. He saw what he needed, at long last, revealed to him.

"No more," he muttered, voice bitter with recrimination, as he lay, curled into the fetal position on the floor of his meditation chambers. "Take this false hope away from me. Let it cease. Don't show this to me any longer." The visions continued, insistent, glimmering beneath the surface of his mind. Credits chips, pooled at his feet like water, and pillars of fortresses, and legions of beings swearing loyalty, and above all else - himself as he once was. He could be beautiful again. Perfect again.

"So be it. Once again, I must." Chasing power never had been a choice for him. In the end, the one thing he could not fight was his nature.

~​

​

Antherion was fortunate that his past indiscretions were not well known to the new Imperial bureaucracy, for the most part because those he had betrayed were barely worth betraying to begin with. The one Lord who might object was himself a renegade, so acquiring some exploration-class vessels with which to probe the site of his glimpse of the future was rather trivial for a Sith of his standing.

The planet - Syngia - was a pearl of dark green, marred by long scars of pitch-black mountain ranges and claw-marks of dry, brown desolation to break the thick jungle. There was little visible ocean, but the whole of it was cut by rivers and reservoirs. Once, home to the ancient Dark Jedi, Remulus Dreypa, one of the very creators of the Sith. These secrets were buried once, now he would see them unearthed again.

All they had to do was survive the beasts. Reaching out with a narrow, withered finger, he tapped a button. A ceramic mask covering blackened flesh stretched thin over a leering skull, a desiccation of the Dark Side, flickered into view over the holocoms of the various chambers of the ship. "This is Antherion Koroosi, contacting all personnel with a Level A-flagged ID card aboard the ISC Honor of Panatha. Gather in the shuttle bay and prepare for briefing - we will be forming the advanced guard of the expedition."

As he drifted to the site he specified, his thoughts dwelt little on the danger certainly lurking in the shadows of Syngia, nor those that might die, nor the significance of the history he sought to touch. He only thought of power, and idly wondered if his companions thought the same.

| [member="The Slave"] | [member="Atlas Kane"] | [member="Juliet Varos"] |​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Weeks prior to their arrival on the overgrown planet, The Slave had heard of his dear friend returning from the empty void. Wherever he had gone, he had returned; yet never sought him out directly. His solution? Only the most obvious choice there was, of course.

In true Slave like fashion, there he sat in the belly of the shuttle bay decked in full armor while his finger praddled along the edges of his unholy necklace. The secret to his stowaway status on the ship was cut between both the impossible invisibility this piece of jewelry offered in terms of the metaphysical, but also the armor that was designed for him almost years prior now.

Between the two, nobody dared notice or sense his presence aboard the vessel. Although relatively untrained in the grand scheme of everything, he was at the very least good at his cloak and dagger like subterfuge; this just being a simple game to the grand hedonist.

As Antherion finally came into full view, The Slave turned his molten gaze towards the masked man as he had so many times before. On Serenno, Lorrd, and Malachor; the two seemed to be two sides of an abysmal coin. His words to him however, were something more teasing;

“What, no invite?”

[member="Antherion"]

 

[Juliet Varos]

If there was one thing Juliet Varos of Talravin hated above almost everything else, it was dirtying herself. That might make one ask just why she was doing a thing like this, an expedition, and that was a valid question with one simple answer: ambition. Whatever they were going to find, it had a chance to advance herself in the Empire, and get her one step closer to her ultimate goal: the title of Dark Lady. That, and that alone was why she had come along on this adventure. For herself and her own advancement, the only things in this universe that truly mattered.

When the message came, she was in her chambers, adjusting her meticulously done hair in her mirror, draped in her usual satin lavender silks. She huffed at being ordered around like a common servant, but allowed it. For now. If this venture proved to be worth it, then it was a sacrifice not taken in vain. She strode through the halls of the ship until she came to the shuttle bay. She cared not for her companions or their lives, but for now they would prove to stand between her and any sort of danger she encountered on this expedition. Those ancient Sith were known for their ingenuity, after all.
Juliet entered the bay, and found where she was supposed to be. Feeling the situation was not yet worthy of her angelic voice, she kept silent, waiting with thin patience. On what? For whatever their esteemed leader wanted.

[member="Antherion"] [member="The Slave"]

 

[Vereshin]

The Honor of Panatha drifted idly above the atmosphere of the deep green world and Vereshin mulled over numbers, between distracting gazes across the far reaches of space through the thick window pane of his quarters. The sorcerer grew in power and pushed his ambitions to the most dangerous reaches of the Dark Side. Through rimless glasses he jotted down formula in his little black notebook, sharpening his mind in preparation for what lay on the world below. Indiscernible patterns rolled beneath his grip. They splayed a rarefied language across the paper decipherable only to those whose perception of reality was distorted.

A voice projected over the communicator. The leader of the expedition commanded his Sith to the bridge and Vereshin jolted upright. Concentration shattered, his pen fell from his fingers and rolled across the desk and he quickly slapped the leather bound notebook shut. He rose to his feet and finished the remainder of cold tea next to him before retreating to the adjoining bathroom briefly to refresh. He combed his hair and slipped into his black trench coat, wrapping a frayed scarf over the c0llar and fastening the material with a glistening amethyst pin, the only trace of color on his person alongside his brilliant green eyes. Vereshin slid the notebook and pen inside the inner pocket and exited to find the bridge.

Awaiting him stood a gaudy woman wearing a dress which looked very formal and far too bright for his taste. He remained diplomatic and offered her a sweet smile, not allowing his personal tastes to interfere with courtesy. As a Sith who did not enjoy wearing robes, Vereshin would not judge another for their choice of attire, even if they did not like his favorite color. The dark mage dressed entirely in obsidian and stood in veritable contrast next to the brightly dressed woman. He did notice she carried no lightsaber, a trait they both shared.

"Hello Madam, my name is Vereshin, it is a pleasure." With a skull ring and fingernails turning black, Vereshin gripped Juliet's hand in his skeletal fingers and graced the surface with an air kiss. He rose and met the face he recognized as the Slave, a mysterious Acolyte who recently became his associate, to whom he offered a smile and nod of acknowledgement. Before the vast window of the bridge stood the esteemed sorcerer Antherion, a Sith the young magus greatly respected for his feats in the arcane. "My Lord, it is an honor to serve you on this expedition." He nodded his head in a slight bow, not entirely aware of Antherion's true rank, not that Vereshin minded or placed any importance on ranks. True power spoke for itself.

[member="Antherion"], [member="Juliet Varos"], [member="The Slave"]

 

[Jack Holland]

What in the seven hells was he doing here?

This was no legion expedition, nor had the inquisitor sunk their claws into its fabric either. Perhaps he'd just opened the wrong message on his terminal. It had looked real enough; official seal and all. Even the Judge Advocate had vouched for its authenticity, which was rather strange to say the very least. However, Major Holland bent at the whim of his unknown sender and reported to the Honor of Panatha without a moment's hesitation. Jack had taken very few pleasantries, aside from his own portable data-terminal.

The rest was standard Imperial drab. Steel grey uniforms cuffed with maroon and gold, bearing the insignias of the age-old Peacekeeping Corps. As far as Major Holland had surmised, there was to be very little peacekeeping in this unknown endeavor. Forlorn hope held little sway out here, where unnamed powers reigned. When the loudspeaker demanded all Level-A personnel report immediately, Jack moved with a purpose.

He was surprised. Instead of meeting with Inquisitors or other military officials, there appeared to be a strange assortment of Sith. The golden fire of their eyes gave it all away, and the fact that none of them seemed to enjoy any colors aside from black save for the lavishly adorned lady of the group. One brandished a peacoat and notebook as if he were a student at university, the other looked the part of scoundrel or a reckless fool, and the last was the most intriguing. Stark-wide mask barely concealing blackened flesh, with sickening eyes gleaming through a pair of openings.

Jack was definitely the outsider. Nevertheless, he snapped crisply to attention. "Major Holland reports as ordered." He granted them all a swift gaze before putting himself at ease.

[member="Vereshin"], [member="Juliet Varos"], [member="The Slave"], [member="Antherion"]

 

[Ras'kala'han]

"Masterless slave... I suppose I should have. But I couldn't stand the thought of you seeing me like this. Oh, how I have... degraded." The voice of Antherion had become a hoarse, sorrowful rasp, a hiss with what seemed like the whispers of other voices rising behind it. He would raise an eyebrow at how one so familiar to him would be able to escape his senses, yet the hair was seared from his skull. No matter, no matter at all. It was the obligation of this day and age's Sith to collect relics like so many toys. The endless imbalance of the Force was a font of power for those who wielded the sorcery of chaos, and this so-called Acolyte, more accomplished than most Lords of the Order's peerage, was perhaps chaos incarnate.

He raised a finger to the man. "It matters not, though. Not at all... this state of affairs is temporary. We will ensure it is such. I will have my new body, just like I was promised, . Yes, even promised by you - but that dream is dead, now, no? We will have a new one to take its place."

He curled cracked lips over jagged teeth into the semblance of a smile, his eyes darting eagerly, back and forth, less like that of a proud commander, and more like that of a beast eager to devour whole everything it laid its eyes on. Yes, he could see it now, the tantalizing vision he had mistaken for the mockery of the Force itself against him was coming more into clarity now, each new Sith moving a thread of the future closer to the tapestry of his instinctual designs.

"My Lord, it is an honor to serve you on this expedition." At this remark, the awful grin of the ghoulish darksider widened, a thread of ink-black spittle gathering at the edge of his mouth in one of the gaps where the skin was torn by necrosis.

​

"Such respect - I had almost forgotten what it felt like. Do not fear, I intend for this not just to be an honor, but an educational experience and a profitable venture besides. And make no mistake, that includes you too Major. Contrary to what many believe, the riches of the Sith hold something for everyone. Even if all you desire is the chance to test your loyalty, and act with great honor, I will see that it is given to you. Serve with loyalty and dignity, and we will all reap the product of what we seek - that is to say, the Genesis Pool. It was unearthed in my time, back when Vitiate was Dark Lord of the Sith, and created by an esteemed alchemist and dark Jedi, the Baron Remulus Dreypa, one of the founders of the Sith Order."


Antherion mused wryly, wondering if the Light truly could be eclipsed at last, as had been so hopefully promised to him by this Zambrano upstart of new and strange heritage and custom, or if two thousand years after this Sith Empire fell, it would be unearthed again to raise hydrae and war-worms, k'lor slugs and tuk'ata. If so, he vowed to himself to be around to see it - no, to put the Order out of its misery if it flailed in such endless stagnation for so much longer.

"The Pool itself is a medium, a massive vat of genetic material and primordial sludge, alive in a vague enough sense of the word that it endlessly replenishes itself over the millennia. Left unattended, it has likely spilled over and grown, reshaping the planet of Syngia into the death trape we see now. Our objective is to use our superior sensing powers to locate the pool and secure the location using our sensing power. We will be shuttling down separate from the Star Carrier, which will move into position when we have flagged the immediate zone of the Pools as safe.

"Any questions before we head to the surface? This is, shall we say, your last chance. When we arrive, we will certainly meet with mortal danger of every sort."

This much was truer than he knew. He asked the last question with a venom edge as he waited for the new arrivals to come hither.

| [member="The Slave"] | [member="Juliet Varos"] | [member="Vereshin"] | [member="Jack Holland"]​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“I suppose I do still owe you…”, The Slave said mindlessly as his eyes wandered to Vereshin and Jack; a grin forming on his otherwise absent minded expression.

“Glad to see you both made it, but today my interest is in you Jack!”, he said as he moved to sit.

“You see, today I’m not just retrieving a body for an old friend; I’m recruiting you!”, he said with a cackle. When it found itself quenched, he sighed joyously and began to speak once more.

“And before you protest, no, you don’t get a choice.”

His gaze moved back to Antherion with the smile crooked smile, and broken expression;

“Either of you.”

With that, The Slave moved to don his phrik lined helmet; letting it connect to the rest of his armor before watching the others around him. It seemed he was having a tad bit too much fun; not in the drug filled euphoric manner, but for one of the few times The Slave seemed to be excited, for whatever it was he had planned.

Perhaps the danger excited him, if not the statement he made to each of them only a moment ago. Still, whatever it might have been; he moved with the jubilance of a young child given free reign over a candy store, the idle prances and skips a complete contradiction from the cruel, overbearing nature his mere presence seemed to harbour. Not through the force, no his necklace still hid that, but as Antherion had imagined; he was not just an Acolyte.

[member="Antherion"] │ [member="Jack Holland"] │ [member="Vereshin"] │ [member="Juliet Varos"]

 

[Juliet Varos]

When one of the other Sith with them took her hand, addressing her as madam, kissing her hand, it made Juliet stand a little taller. Finally. Someone among her peers who understood how to properly address one of her station. It felt nice for someone to recognize she was worthy of such praise, for once, instead of forcing it with incessant prattling. She loved the sound of her own voice (Who didn't love such angelic sounds?), but she preferred when it had a reason to be vocalized.
She acknowledged his greeting with a nod. "Juliet Varos, a pleasure for us both."

The Talravinian listened to the briefing, stroking her chin. What they were looking for was much more powerful than she had originally imagined. Interesting. Still, there was one thing she wasn't sure she understood.
"Yes, I have a question. The age of the pool is impressive, indeed, but what does it do, exactly? Create monsters, change objects? If I'm going to risk dirtying my rather expensive clothes, I wish to know exactly what it isI'm risking it for." She held a hand on her hip, filled with curiosity. It certainly sounded impressive, but a fancy name was not all something needed to be worth her time. It needed to be ale to do something impressive, as well.

[member="The Slave"], [member="Jack Holland"], [member="Vereshin"]

 

[Ignatius]

Taking a hold of the gauntlets, I rushed out of my chamber doors and down the hall. Walking at quite a brisk pace. I was attaching the gauntlets to my arms, and tying them up. Making sure that they were snug and wouldn't shift on my arm. After doing so, I put on my denim vest and made sure it was on me comfortably as I was about to walk out of the main door to the hangar bay. I also checked my blaster. Pulling it out and loading it up, and put in the locked and cocked position. Ready to fire as soon as I drew the weapon essentially. However, I stopped as I could hear the talking of a few individuals. Slowing to be in the little circle of people.Putting the gun away, I raised my head at a familiar voice.

Oh hell....

Juliet was here, and once more in a very fine dress. What was she going to do around here? "supervise?" The distaste was very clear on my face, and the taste of disrespect was in my mouth. I kept my mouth shut though. I was very tempted to answer the woman. Unlike her, I studied where we were going. Not sure why we were here, but I knew what we were looking for.

Half of the battle is knowing, thus I had found a few clips here and there about it. Still, I stayed silent because who really want's to hear that brat talk? I know I dont. As well, I didn't feel like having anything to do with her at the moment. I kept my mouth shut and decided that just being here was enough. No point in instigating a fight. That, and I had learned my lesson last time. She didn't like me at all, and that was fine with me.

Instead, I just turned to each and nodded my welcome.

​"Apologizes for the tardiness."

That was good enough. No need to throw some excuse because I didn't feel like having someone fight me about lies or truth or whatever the hell the thought. I wanted to get this done and over-with. Even more so that Juliet was here.

[member="Juliet Varos"], [member="The Slave"], [member="Antherion"], [member="Jack Holland"], [member="Vereshin"],

 

[Vereshin]

They were a strange group of individuals to say the least. As Vereshin released Juliet's hand, he presently forgot about the glasses still on his nose which he blushed beneath and removed at once, folding them over and sliding them into the inside pocket of his coat (NOT A PETTICOAT). A military officer soon accompanied them and stood in stark contrast among the band of darkly Sith, to whom Vereshin offered his usual coy smile, remaining quite content to listen to Anetherion regale the details of their quest.

The Slave made a comment regarding something he owed Vereshin, who only assumed he referred to the incident with Pom at the black party. He modestly raised a hand in a gesture of refusal, wishing to place the brief and awkward moment behind them and focus on more important things. Antherion explained the nature of the expedition and the anomaly they sought to unearth. Vereshin received his words with clarity and nodded his head in response.

"I have no questions, my lord." The sorcerer understood and stated before Juliet spoke up with inquiries of her own. Vereshin raised an eyebrow in response to her concerns over ruining her clothes. "With all due respect, my lady, if risking your garments is your primary concern, perhaps you should have dressed more appropriately." He spoke with a polite tone and did not infer any malice, merely voicing his opinion on the woman's childish predicament. Another individual soon reported to the bridge, one who seemed to harbor hostilities towards Juliet. Vereshin turned to face him and smiled in response, before diverting his attention back to the leader of the expedition.

[member="Antherion"], [member="The Slave"], [member="Jack Holland"], [member="Juliet Varos"], [member="Ignis Imura"]

 

[Jack Holland]

Strangely enough, it appeared all eyes had locked onto him the second he came into the fold. Their newest arrival as well, who no doubt longed to wipe that smug grin from the satin-clad Sith. It was amusing to say the very least. Jack gave them a sly grin, eyeing their apparent dispositions of ill-intent and cruelty. There was no rigid military discipline, no unity of command. It was completely, utterly feral. Absolutely disgusting, Jack thought. Watching these fools crumble inward wasn't his idea of a good time, or a meaningful one.

All of this talk regarding an ancient primordial soup was beyond him. The Major mocked interest with a raised brow, curious as to why they were risking their lives for a little liquid. Then again, soldiers risked their lives for colored little ribbons to pin to their chests.

Jack ignored the white-haired man, with all of his recruitment talk and turned his attention to Antherion.

"Just us, sir?" He scoffed. "Half a dozen people and nothing more than the clothes on their backs?"

Jack adjusted his hands behind his back, shifting his weight anxiously. "I can rally the men if you'd so desire."

Having a few more pairs of eyes to watch his six didn't seem too much to ask for.

[member="Vereshin"], [member="Ignis Imura"], [member="Juliet Varos"], [member="The Slave"], [member="Antherion"]

 

[Ras'kala'han]

"Half a dozen people, and the clothes on our backs. Finery mostly, too, the sort of ceremonial garb more associated with ballrooms and temples, hm? The sort of stuff that tears and catches and stains, preferred by the kind of disgusting, soft-handed, silk-glove aristocrat uniquely unsuited to this sort of thing. I like that. The irony of it... but I sense concern, and your concerns are valid. You have five minutes, and limit the number of men to those who can fit on the drop shuttle with us. Oh, and one more thing -"

The Sith smiled beneath the porcelain of his mask, the thin skin of his upraised hand stretched near transparency as he made a warning gesture with one finger. "Bring no one whose life you value. You... you might have the steel to survive. I see it in you, shining brightly. But soldiers can be brittle, and this place is bound to the will of the Dark Side. What doesn't bend to the Force..." He snaps his long-nailed fingers emphatically. "Breaks. No one is excepted."

As he let the Major go off to gather up his men, the Sith turned towards the most ornately-dressed of the sextet, scrutinizing her. This was a kindred soul, someone who had little tolerance for disrespect and a surety of her place in the world. Unfortunately, kindred souls of their soullessness rarely got along. There was only one Galaxy, and it had only one throne. "Trust that your oh-so valuable time and energy would not be wasted by me. The Pool is nothing short of a blank canvas on which nigh-anything can be written. Your limit is your knowledge of genetics and your imagination, it is a place where life of all sorts can be conjured up from. Understand a biologic substance, and you can replicate it. A clone, a spawn, a leviathan - it is a key that can open any door, and we shall build upon it a fortress to commemorate the glory of the Sith of our time."

"Now, the late arrival... you too are welcome here. I reviewed the personnel files, and I have to say that it was quite a pleasure to see the name 'Imura.' Your father helped me plunder the secrets of Kro Var. I look forward to continuing our clans' history of shared acquisition of knowledge. Now - are we ready? Shall we depart?"

~​

​

The shuttle departure was smooth, after each personage gathered troops and readied themselves, for the most part, the sleek Imperial craft gliding over the treetops. Antherion sat towards the far back of the craft, where he could watch each of his allies, weigh their subtle shifts in poise and expression. He was curious what happened when they met with crisis. How they would react. And, right on schedule, as soon as they had drawn a fair distance, skimming the canopy and leaving the larger craft as a dot on the horizon, disaster struck.

A cloud grew visible on the horizon, a swarm of flapping, winged leeches, fangs dripping acid saliva - perfect for chewing through thick tree bark, scaled hide, and the metal plating of a lightly armored craft and its engines. The storm of fluttering Sithspawn grew in size, and his refined skill of Sense could detect primal, mindless hunger, directed only by the impulses granted by the same malus that created the beings: the Dark Side.

"The jungle sends its first trial against us. Ready yourselves." His pulse quickened with excitement. There was no true logic in plunging firsthand into the jungle without a surfeit of troops, no logic in not simply scorching the area around the Pool's vague coordinates and moving in, save the logic of a knife that always seeks a grindstone. Like a magnet, drawn to violence, secure in his own sense of survival, he wanted to taste the brutality of Syngia before he claimed it for his own. Once, perhaps, he might not have. No, he was too far gone to refuse this. Antherion, broken of his chains, was finally mad.

| [member="Ignis Imura"] | [member="The Slave"] | [member="Vereshin"] | [member="Juliet Varos"] | [member="Jack Holland"] |​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave seemed lost in his own thoughts as Antherion spoke to the various other subjects in the hanger. He didn’t need to know what the genesis pool was, nor did he need to know what any of the others may face; he didn’t care. He wasn’t here to help them, he was here to help Antherion reform his body and watch his new hire. Whether he knew it or not.

On the vessel that flew them towards their objective, The Slave stood near Antherion and watched the others; though did so in silence. While his helmet took in the majority of the data that surrounded them, his own empathetic means took care to take in what his technology could not; their idle glances, their downward gazes. They wanted to be strong, that much was obvious.

As he spoke of their impending danger, The Slave simply stood; smile plastered under its phrik plated mask. In the next few moments, the engines would begin to sputter, the pilots would die as their canopy would shatter, and all those aboard would find their next objective deep in the forest below. The canopy of leaves moved turbulent as the vessel finally dipped below the treeline, signalling their soon to be emergency landing.

The Slave braced himself without paying much attention to the others, especially since this wasn’t his first rodeo. There was a time once where he crashed a fighter directly into a pirate ship just to fight the captain, something far worse than the ‘cushioned’ landing of dirt and roots rather than metal and fuel. Still, he’d lurch as the impact took them, eventually finding himself leaning against the duraplast door behind him for support.

Only when everything stood still, and the distance echoes of nature offered themselves to all aboard over to crackling of heat in the engines dissipated, The Slave began to speak once more;

“Well, no time to dally. We’ve got a pool to find.”, he said with a grin. Only a few steps out the now hanging rear door and he was outside, washed in leaf forced shadows and taking care to notice any nearby animals whose curiosity got the better of them.

Afterall, he had every intention of becoming the predator here. There would be nobody above him.

[member="Antherion"] │ [member="Ignis Imura"] │ [member="Vereshin"] │ [member="Juliet Varos"] │ [member="Jack Holland"]

 

[Juliet Varos]

"My clothing is none of your concern, good sir." She was more polite to the man in the coat than she normally would have been, as he had been very polite to her, and respect given must be returned. Friends were useful to have, when maneuvering the waltz of politics like she was.
And there he was. The boy from the Temple. Ignis, she believed his name was. Her eyes narrowed, and her nose flared, but she stayed as calm as she normally was. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. If he was going to be along, very well, but she would not put her neck on the line for him. If he was in trouble, and he needed her assistance, then it appeared he was going to die. How utterly unfortunate.
She listened to the doll-like man vaguely, suddenly interested. Complete blue-prints, for everything and anything? That, could be useful. VeryI useful.

On the shuttle ride, she spent the time inside of herself, preparing herself. Her mind prepared it's defenses. As far she knew, she was the most skilled at mentalism of their party, and not much else. Her only physical offensive ability was Sith Lightning, and she did not have complete control of it just yet. Only time would tell how much she would add to this adventure.

She could feel it coming, her Sense picking up the swarm of Dark Sithspawn. She summoned the Force around her, the lightning ready at her fingertips. She stepped off onto the planet, eyes searching the darkness.
"This jungle will have to do better than this to frighten Juliet Varos."

[member="Antherion"], [member="Jack Holland"], [member="Ignis Imura"], [member="The Slave"]

 

[Ignatius]

It seemed that we would be on our way. I rubbed my hands together, then went to crack my knuckles. A bad habit of mine, but it was one I had. Once done, I followed the others onto the vessel. There was not much time for us to talk or communicate. Nor did I want to talk to Juliet. She and I were at odds with one another. In all honesty, Our fight back at the temple was small and insignificant. There was no need for it. We acted like children. I was attempting to move on from it. To learn from it by letting it go. But the look she gave me? I had a feeling that even if I was dying, she would not be there to pull my ass up.

Ask me the same question, I have no clue what I would do. The code of the Sith was to let those who were not strong enough to survive, to fall by the wayside, but considering we were fighting Jedi and everything else, we needed all the people we could get. Even if they were a brat. I just rubbed my eyes as I sat in the ship. Speaking to none, and watching as the stars went by and down onto the planet.

Upon reaching into the atmopshere, The Sith who was with us began to say that the forest and jungle were testing our strength. In all honesty, The range I could fight was limited to my ability to control flames. I could fire a few balls of flame, but the problem was that I could light the entire forest on fire. Instead, I guess I will have to rely on my telekinesis. Even as they began to draw closer, I readied myself.

Looking over to Juliet as she stated that the planet will have to do more to frighten her, I shook my head. If she was not afraid of dying, then she didn't know when to quit. The extreme was her case. She would die if she didn't know her limit. Considering we had fought each other, I knew that her limit wasn't much. Her inflated ego is what pushed her. If that kept her alive after this, then fine, but don't expect me to help her.

As they started to draw closer, I reached out with the force. Grabbing onto two or three at a time, and would snap the bones in their wings. Letting them drop to the forest below. Blowing them apart, or mangling them would do no good. Simply making them fall would keep them out of our path, and feed those who were fortunate enough to find these creatures dying on the ground. If not, then only those who healed from their wounds, who could fly even after their grounded state, then they were the strongest of their kind.

"Then stop talking and do something about it princess."

However, those where the last few words I spoke before the engines began to sputter and die out. The ship was taken down into the canopy of the jungle below. Landing rather hard, and braced for impact, I smacked my head into the corner of the ship and would get a nice bruise from it in a few moments. Looking around and now items were not shaking, nor breaking upon impact, It seemed everyone was fairly well off. Rubbing the side of my head, I stood up and walked out a little dizzy.

"Let's just get this done."

Smacking my head, Dealing with brat princess, and two other Sith knights that were clearly well above my skill level, or just the mere fact that they had been here longer. I felt a little inadequacy towards myself. Rolling the pain away from my shoulders, I went back into the ship for a moment to look at the pilots.

Dead.

Shaking my head, I reached over and grabbed the headset, and slipped it into my jacket. I also reached over and looked at the distance that we needed to travel.

"Just a bit out of the way. Let's start walking."

[member="Juliet Varos"], [member="The Slave"], [member="Darth Vesper"], [member="Jack Holland"], [member="Vereshin"],