The Ordo's Sends Their Regards(One Sith Dominion of Ashera)

[Balaya Praelior Zambrano]

[member="Salvor Arnex"]

Balaya heard the news, her hands dancing over the one Asherian woman as she was slowly twisting but there would need to be more done. These servants she had plans for and crafting what she wanted would have to come. "Very good." She moved to meet and find her corpse. A stardragon had special organs she wanted, had special parts she needed as the large carrier flew overhead. She got the information that her packages were being delivered. The sounds could be heard as the thrashing of the sedated worm went about, the carrier coming down and putting it in a large open area. More sith joining her while she touched the white flesh. It was a baby, it was only around ten meters long and more then enough for them to begin working.

"Bring the priests an the vong. Summon as many sith as we can and everyone join in on this." Balaya started chanting while the dead leviathan was delivered as well. A sad thing but it would serve the purpose intended as the sith master spoke. "All sith force converge on me and join in the ritual, these being wish to see a god, wish to see power and we shall show them it." She hadn't intended for this plan but there was a very very real chance the apprentices were about to see something few others ever did. They were going to see the power of Sith Alchemy and Balaya moved to the front of her worm as she had them force the mouth open. "This will be an alchemy lesson you do not wish to miss." Now she turned and shouted. "Bring the bodies of the stardragon and leviathan."

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[Virindicus]

The One Sith had several ways of harming the republic, and one of the greatest ways to do so included turning their very forces against them. Even for a man like Virinticus, who is amused by little, it is always fun to watch an entire army be torn apart from within by it's own forces. But it is not always the forces of your enemy that can be a problem. A large nuisance can come from groups in general that sway their people in a different direction from what you'd prefer. These posed just as much of a threat to the Sith as the Republic themselves, and required elimination.

Such was the case with the religious parties that were scattered around the planet of Ashera. While some more intelligent Asheran's would not mind following a group that did not believe in a divine entity, there were always these people who, no matter what happened, simply refused to believe that they were wrong. These exact people were what Virinticus had been sent to deal with. Those who would not stop believing, and would not join the sith.

Right now, the Sith was concealed in black robes, covernig all of his body, not exposing even a hint of red skin. That would surely give him away among the crowd of Asherans who had gathered to listen to another preacher rant about their religious beliefs. The Asheran stood on a platform, trying to make himself appear tall and imposing as he wove his skinny arms around, uttering nonsense that Virnticus neither heard nor understood. Once he had finished, a large applause commenced, as he exited the stage and walked down an empty alley-way, followed by two guards. They should be easy enough to dispatch.

Unseen by anybody, Virintcus finally began to follow the creature, his pace much faster than the religious man's. Upon finally getting a mere meter away from him, the man turned and spotted him. But it was two late. A silver hilt had already been pulled out, and the red blade had extended. A look of horror was on the man's face, as he began to run, whilst the guards aimed for blasters. Before they could pull out anything, however, Virnticus swung his saber from left to right in a wide arc just below their heads, slitting their throats before chasing after the escaping man.

His words were dangerous.

Thinking he may not reach the man in time, Verinticus lifted his blade up and threw. A yelp of pain could be heard as the red light sunk into the Areshan's shoulder. Verinticus retrieved his blade for the final blow, digging it through the man's back. He stayed a few moments to assure death, and once he had done so, he left. His job was done.

 

[Reverance]

His steps were slow, his gaze deep and piercing a crimson hue, burning a singeing hole into the decorative cobble. Around him, day had turned to night, and Dalaria became just as beautiful as the sunlight quietly promised through a cascading shadow of the suns movement. Blue, everything was blue. Baby blue, navy blue, lightning blue, blue shimmers of water reflected gold and silver across the alabaster landscape. He had opted to not wear the mask of his typical facade, it wouldn't be enough to hide among these people. He was short and stout, a walking wall. These people were thin and tall, he stood out like a sore thumb. A simple walk through their world and he already caught wayward glances and stares, the mystery of his appearance and of his force signature likely not lost upon the masses. These were a sensitive people.

He had taken the day to watch the ceremonies, the words of the Nevére and their screaming sessions upon boxes, blasting dull melodies of dogmatic practice into rows and rows of puppets. They had been led astray, Gabriel knew it, they knew it, and most of all, the Phievere knew it. This wasn't a Sith, knowledgeable of these people or their customs, but the customs were part of who they were. And he could smell the dissent, the remembrence of a time when these differences produced wounds that bled the streets, now only to scar and scab over. He didn't mind all too much, there would always be a difference between the weak and the strong. It was the natural order of things, but it was time for the meek and meager to find their place, to realize that no one is listening and no one cares about their plight.

As a priest completed his sermon in the street, his pale face lit by a blazing orange fire birthed from a brass sconce, Gabriel approached him guised in the visage of feigned curiosity. "I seem to be lost..." He pulled the hood down to reveal a haggard face. Gabriel was a man of age, over 60, but merely had the looks of a 40 year old run down by time. The most notable trait was the crimson eye that shined a vibrant and lively hue, contrasting harshly against his disciplined mannerism. "Where do the Ashére go for nightcaps?"

The priest was robed in decorative cloth, white with gold embroidery that shined a certain level of mediocrity. He pointed his anointed hand down the way towards the most obvious location. A sign hung from the roof, called itself "The Pedestal." "You'll find your way over there, stranger." The priests heterochromatic eyes eyed Gabriel with caution, glowing for just a moment before reassigning themselves to their lackluster tone. Gabriel was all too aware of what that meant, it had been happening to him all day.

"Perhaps you could show me..." Gabriel waved his hand in a manner that insisted, rather than requested. The priest acquiesced easier than Gabriel expected and lowered his holy head, walking quickly forward. He guided the shorter but much larger man to the threshold of the bar, where they both entered, though only one willingly. The wooden floor boards whined and moaned beneath his feet as he looked towards the bar and back towards the Ashére, who were consuming beverages quietly in their own form of despair. Gabriel grabbed the priest by the arm and tossed him onto a bar stool before approaching the Barkeep.

"Mulled wine..." He held up his hand, index and thumb separated by a few inches. Surprisingly, he was served rather quickly by a trembling bartender in a hushed room. He turned his head, back faced to the people, to gaze towards a group that was once sitting but now found fortitude in their numbers. He couldn't help but smile as he turned towards the peasants and raised his glass. "To the Gods..." His salute was met with angry faces and silence. His mouth twitched as he sipped the wine and placed it down on the bar behind him. Of course, he didn't much care about the wording, he was here on business. Gods, Sith, what was the difference. The fact of the matter is he had an example to make and a message to send.

"I can sense a few heroes in here...you know what else I can sense? Hairline fractures." He snapped his right hand and a singular man from the large bar group doubled over in pain, clutching his arm. Shatterpoint was a nasty thing when applied to already existing skeletal damage. Others looked at the wounded man nervously, but only a few were shocked. A patron appeared from the crowd, running with bottle in hand. Gabriel stepped to the side, grabbing the attackers wrist. The bottle busted on the bar as Gabriel twisted the man around like a rag doll, kneeing upwards and jamming the broken bottle deep into the man's chest. The Sith Lord released the victim who preceded to fall to the floor in a limp and dripping slump. He sighed and scratched his forehead as he could feel the tone in the room shifting. "Never have I seen a group so attached to their chains. It is as if you enjoy the feeling of slavery."

The Sith approached the Priest and kicked the stool out from underneath, kicking him once more, before he could land, towards the group before. He landed in a rolling maneuver befitting his cowardice and the yelps that escaped him. Gabriel shook his head and pointed, the tone changing with elevated volume. "Who is to say you are not blessed?!? This man?! The Bishop! Who are they to you!?" He walked up to the one with the broken arm and lifted him through shear strength, as if he weighed nothing. "You are imprisoned by those that call themselves your leaders, your own people! And you attack me because I threaten him?" The man he lifted quivered in pain and tears streamed down his face. Gabriel smiled and dropped him to the ground, where he managed to stand on his own two feet. "I can feel true strength in you all, just as I have felt strength in all of your people. But you are weakened now, clinging to the light and to those who usurp your fate. Why be this..." He pointed to the ground, to the priest who groveled and clinged to his own life. "When you can be this?" He pointed to himself with empty hands. "Will you choose mortality...or will you seek the godship I have obtained." He lifted the priest again, but this time he called to the force for his work. It wasn't aid that the force provided, but servitude. Gabriel was the master, the force his weapon.

With a single flash, the rancor tooth from his belt jumped into his tattooed hand and ignited a crimson column of heat and destruction. The snap-hiss was quickly followed but the wet cutting of Asherian priest, a noise that brought Gabriel no joy, no happiness. Purpose born entirely from necessity, an example made. And as one half split into two, he released his grip, and the death toll rose to two. It would be much higher by the nights end, charlatans brought to their knees. "Take back your world or forever be lost to it. I won't force you, you have to want it." He stated quietly as he lifted the hood over his head. He could feel it, the shift, as those who were angry realized they weren't angry with him. This city was lavished and rich with culture and they were forced into their position, given no out but at the beck and call of those given elevated position from birth. "Take back your world and tell them that Reverance sent you...that a God sent you."

They ran out of the bar as quickly as Gabriel had entered, mad with anger and desperation. The dose of reality mixed with subtle hints of Sith manipulation was all that was needed to push the exploited into action. Screams echoed down the alley as the Sith Lord lost sight of his newly formed posse, likely running off to their demise. But action and change spreads like wildfire, especially to those so easily influenced and infected. Most of the words Gabriel spoke were hollow, with the exception of weakness. The Republic was the source of ultimate weakness and if that meant that his new zealots had to die at the hands of their captors, the upper class, then the better outcome had been achieved. He grabbed his mulled wine and finished it off before paying the bartender and exiting the establishment to see where the night would take him. He felt the slightest tinge of optimism as he walked out into the crisp air, painted in echoes and vibrations of indisctinct screams.

 

[Colrenn]

[member="Darth Praelior"] [member="Kaggak"]

Rencorth had studied the One Sith that now housed what was left of Sith order from the old empire and found one member a lord named Darth Praelior that he wanted and needed to study under his last master had begun to teach him the basics of sorcery and alchemy before he cut down. He knew the One Sith were currently on Ashera, bring yet another world in the fold he stole a transport headed there with all haste. Several hours later he exited hyper space he saw the sith fleet and opened a channel "Sith fleet My name is Rencorth I am sith as well I seek to join your order and seek the one called Darth Praelior, to complete my training my last master was cut down before he fully teach me the arts of Sith sorcery and alchemy." He said the hate and rage in voice ever evident.

 

[Reverance]

Word travels fast when the messengers run. And run they did, for every mistreated and abused, there was another to defend them with claims of self-preservation. Though those claims came through in screams and wails. But where the infectious run rampant, there's bound to be spill over. And when a body such as Ashera feels the onset of disease, defenders will eventually find cause.

Militér'Si wasn't really a city, though it had the size of it. Word from the zealots was that it was too well nested into the Dalarian region to be considered a city. Nevertheless, it was more of Gabriels kind of place. Caught a ride on a cruiser along transport route. Too bad they only had one person moving that cargo, otherwise there might have been more to defend against the Sith Lord and his physical means of manipulation. There was already bodies in the streets of Dalaria, priests and bishops hanging from the portcullis, slender shadows cast against a wooden and ceremonial entrance that flickered in fiery dances in coordination with angered torches. What was one more?

Where Dalaria had beautiful sculptures and ornate decor, Militér'Si had metal and inflorescence and pavement and brick. Lights of yellow and red and blue and green lit up the sky, not a star to be seen. It was a metropolis born of dutiful purpose in the backdrop of governance and appropriate spending of taxes. Gabriel could taste it all in the air, the nostalgia of such a thing gave him the slightest flinch of memory, back to his military days, before he pulled the transport vehicle over, having made it's way into a dark alleyway nestled deep within the housing district. The homes weren't really what he would consider inviting, metal and stone crammed together in the form of townhouses. Yards of small size, green and well kept, just like a soldiers uniforms. He walked to the back of the vehicle, combat boots scraping against gravel and asphalt in the night, as he tore the canvas cloth cover down to reveal a group of Dalarians hidden in the back. And for every Dalarian that stepped out of the truck, another truck arrived down the street filled with the same number.

"It's your time, claim it." Or claim your death, he thought to himself. He would bleed this land, tear muscle from bone, and watch as renewed vigor was born from the dead clutching grip of piety. The people rushed out, bowing their heads to their savior, and taking their weapons in hand. Torches, legs from broken chairs, arms from brass statues. Some of them were strong in the force and their new found anger had turned them more into beasts then people. But these people had quickly found trust in their God and he couldn't help but grimace at the thought of it. They were weak now and manipulated. They could have been so much more, but their time had passed they moment they were born.

The Dalarians washed over the streets like blood seeping from an open artery, pulsing and ramming against defenses. Military personal evacuated from their houses, sirens blared, and men and women were shot down in the streets for breaking the ties that bound them to this militaristic city. The soldiers that once defended the civilians now turned against them, on orders of suppression and safety. There had to be a head at the top and it was likely screaming now, the ordering of massacred civilians as much a knee-jerk reaction as Gabriel had ever seen, not that he would have done any differently. Typically, riot practices would have been implemented, but it seemed recent events put the planet on high alert. It had been something he had seen all too often and he viewed it now from elevated position, running and jumping from building to building, following the mob while they overcame one obstacle after another, leaving bodies of their own in their wake.

He watched the change over the city, a night of fire, as flames and embers moved through the streets like giddy ghouls. Every blaster and gun shot was met with a mishandled weapon and scream, the sound of bouncing wood and dropped brass echoing softly through the night. He dropped from the roof into an alleyway, a group of soldiers finding shortcut between housing to flank the mob. There weren't many of them and assuredly not enough for what they now faced.

"Don't look now...but the shadows betray you." Gabriel whispered as they shot a barrage of gunfire into him. Force barrier and deflect was the easier of the powers, compared to absorb. It didn't require acknowledgment, acknowledgment that you would eventually have to use another persons energy. These people and their ceremonial weapons, Gabriel thought, likely a result of running low on ammo. Gabriel lifted his arm, sending the bullets into the brick and metal walls behind him like shrapnel from a claymore. When their clips ran dry, they found courage in their melee weapons. Glowing stun batons lit up the night like sparklers held in children's hands, afraid to face the darkness before them. The first charged the hooded Sith, jabbing forward, only to find the Sith had stepped to the side. The soldier had committed to his attack and lowered his body and would pay dearly with a knee to the face, sending him flying backwards to the ground. The next two attacked simultaneously, stepping over their broken compatriot. Gabriel blocked the first attack, breaking the soldiers wrist, and stabbing his baton into the other. As the electrified soldier fell to the ground, Gabriel smashed the other attacker hard into the wall, breaking tooth and bone and brick alike. Only one was left now and his courage had all but left him.

"Don't give up now, fight to the end. Otherwise, how will I remember you?" The soldier clenched his pride and baton and charged forward. It was all too easy, unfortunately. One hand caught his charging wrist, the other gripped the soldiers throat. Gabriel felt the faintest moment of hesitation, viewing into the young man's life. A family man. But it didn't save him now, it couldn't. Why should it? It didn't save Gabriel. "You...you have Tormund's eyes." Gabriel whispered slowly as he ended the struggling soldiers life, squinting his vibrant crimson eye as he dropped the soldier to the ground.

Life was filled with regrets and struggles. It wasn't Gabriel's first and it assuredly wouldn't be his last. The Sith Lord lifted his hood and left the alleyway, four corpses fuller than when he entered it. He would continue stalking the mob, the shadows and thoughts of his son lurking behind him.

 

[Balaya Praelior Zambrano]

Balaya continued to fork within the beast, her energies flowing outward and into the creature while the few who had gathered with them were sending it. Others across the planet were creating the siths foothold and power, more were working on securing the hyper religious Asharians for what was to come as Balaya finished grafting with the force a blister pod within the baby worms mouth. The darkside infusion twisting the reality of the beast while she pushed more and more into its veins. The organs slowly being grafted into the creature and the shofting of its body to allow for travel from world to world they needed. She was focusing on the brain as well so that only ones of power with the creatures like her and [member="Darth Sinna"] could command it when needed. "More power, we need more."

 

[Garza]

Crack!

One bone broken

Crunch!

Another one turned to dust

Crunk!

And there goes the third.

I had used my fists as weapons. Keeping the sword that was on my back, I used the metal that was housed within the leviathan bracers as a way to increase the damage in which I could inflict. I barely felt anything. But my foe were screaming and yelling in pain from bones being broken, skin being ripped away by the pure force of friction from my fists, and the fires that I had lit from their clothes. Every punch I had was filled with Rage and Hatred for [member="Darth Mierin"]. She had killed one of my friends. And one day, I knew that I would get back at her for that.

My left hand let out a series of fire shots to slam into the chests of those who denied me. Sending them flying a good few feet and into the air as their cloths lit on fire. I attacked any I could come within reach of. Except for the children. I knew that by leaving them there, Another Sith who had more corruptive abilities than myself could make them slaves, or simply turn them to become the next generation of Sith Acolytes and warriors. Walking over to a woman that was crying over the dead body of her husband, I gripped her long hair. Pulling her up to meet my eyes. Fiery and burning with the heat of anger, "Pray to your false gods. Pray that you will die quickly."

I then grabbed the woman from either side of her head. gripping hard to cause her to scream. Now yelling at her. "PRAY!" Spittle fell from my mouth to hit her in the face. I didn't care. My hands ignited into fire. Burning the side of her face as I increased the heat. Reducing her ashes and again to dust as I stood there. When the small pile of ash that was once a living breathing woman, I kicked it. Spreading the ashes around in a very vulgar manner.

I left it to move onto the next group of people.

[member="Darth Praelior"],

 

[Reverance]

The overhanging clouds bled rain in harsh drops against the pale night sky, lights effervescent and vibrant against the cement metropolis. Calmness replaced with severity and stillness replaced with fire and anger, footsteps clapped through puddles as doomed souls found purpose in the last moments of their life. The Sith Lord bent the force around him and walked through the raging and bellicose crowds, a ghost of removed form, once solid but now abstract and silent. He had pulled these people up, dusting the dirt from knees, and gave them a reason to rise from an already restless night. The beauty of the truths uttered this night was that it didn't need to be true, so long as the idea permeated into something deeper, something pernicious. The world and sky didn't seem so far away now, as they touched in the night, and sirens sounded like church bells in the distance. It was these peoples calling, the signal of their penetration, that which preceded them in the darkness. Flesh clashed against barricades like water against rock, slowly eroding away the structures as wood and bits blew out, only to be swallowed up by the incoming tide. They screamed, their fists pounded against chests and heads and shields and makeshift obstacles. Broken knuckles bled and blood saturated the air, carried off in the savage breeze, only to be brought back to the world with words of truth that bore no truth. To think, a reasonable group would have known they were beaten by now, but what Reverance saw in them he fed with wildfire and empty words feigning weight and value. And for every ten brought down by bolt and slug, a soldier joined them and pulled power from the ranks, peeling away the defense like meat from bone. Sliver by sliver, the ranks would dwindle and patriots would turn towards proper path, motivations soaked deep in fear. Fear of this new God.

“Speak the words…” Reverance whispered as he passed his soldiers, his diaphanous and nebulous form something that drew no more than curiosity. “Scream them…” He whispered again.

Those words, For the One Sith, For Reverance, echoed across the boisterous night from mouths that knew not the meaning. For every scream, another followed to ululate, the sounds became a monstrous noise of music and incidental harmony. His crimson eye, hidden behind the veil he created, looked through the mist of the night, watching the fisticuffs transcend original intent. These people were far more truculent then their original posture has suggested, Reverance noted, as the fight turned to a slaughter on both sides. All it needed was a spark, a powder keg tumbling towards its own potential. He could join this fight, but he felt little draw to it. What he did feel was pity, the sadness of its necessity felt deep within. But a planet is useless without appropriate measure. Perhaps this was too far, perhaps less needed to be done. But that was not his way, not the way of the Sith. Only the most absolute of consequences would be sought.

He walked towards the head of the crowd, bodies littering the streets like garbage blown apart by tempest, and the veil dropped from his body. Concealment was a second nature to him, the shadows were an old and trusted friend. But he would embrace the searchlight now, running and separating himself from the crowd. The ground was slick with redness as his fist came out against the barrier, hiding soldiers unaware of their sad future. The force culminated around him as the air and space bent to his will and his fist punched and dented the plasteel barrier, the refraction of light became obvious in the form of an orb that started small and grew instantly. Such was the power of the darkside. Where it was fist size, it pulsated to the size of him and the closest soldier on the other side of the barrier. Another sphere formed, much larger than the first, and was tinted a darkness that blotted out the street lights. Within that moment, he closed his eye and opened his fist, sending a shock wave outward, destroying everything and everyone in the outer blast from the impact of the Repulse. Bodies were sent flying into those untouched by his power, obstacles and weapons splintered in every direction, including back into the group of people following Reverance, and the Sith Lord had opened a gaping hole in the defenses. The plasteel had been torn asunder and split apart, a wedge of force applied at the weak joint and pushed hard. Before the dust settled, Reverance exhaled and knelt over, removing a man hole cover and climbing into the sewer, covering his escape.

He caught his breath, having depleted his power momentarily. Stepping several feet though muck, he looked up through the grates to see and hear the footsteps of the zealots charging the military, invigorated by his efforts. The years spent training that power would go a long way towards these peoples oneiric hopes. And he would solidify his place in these people's minds, their friends lost to the explosion a necessary sacrifice for them all. He could hear the words grow louder and louder until nothing else could be heard beyond the stomps of footsteps out of unison, running above him.

FACTION TAGS

Spoiler

[member="Abric Korne"]
[member="Aeon Caedus"]
[member="Aiakos"]
[member="Aiker Ebizu"]
[member="Ajona"]
[member="Aleksandr Idruin"]
[member="Alexandra Cinthra"]
[member="Alicia Drey"]
[member="Alyssa Motierre"]
[member="Apos Sanaz"]
[member="Ariel Shadowmaster"]
[member="Aros Varr"]
[member="Arturious Engel"]
[member="Asar Anchti"]
[member="Assadar Ilrast"]
[member="Asteria deWinter"]
[member="Asterion"]
[member="Avadreia Lacroix"]
[member="Azal"]
[member="Azrael Dugarde"]
[member="Azrakiel"]
[member="Baron Doklor"]
[member="Bastian Briareos"]
[member="Bond"]
[member="Bria Shadow-Tarkin"]
[member="Cain Laatl"]
[member="Cale Gunderson"]
[member="Chloe Van Derveld"]
[member="Commander Orin"]
[member="Connar Arneir Whitelight"]
[member="Countess of Báthory"]
[member="Cractius Stretus"]
[member="Cross"]
[member="Cyrus Tregessar"]
[member="Daichi"]
[member="Dak Canton"]
[member="Dante Imura"]
[member="Darth Acarus"]
[member="Darth Akron"]
[member="Darth Angrel"]
[member="Darth Apparatus"]
[member="Darth Arcis"]
[member="Darth Armyss"]
[member="Darth Astraios"]
[member="Darth Avara"]
[member="Darth Banshee"]
[member="Darth Carach"]
[member="Darth Hauntruss"]
[member="Darth Helios"]
[member="Darth Hoshek"]
[member="Darth Isolda"]
[member="Darth Janus"]
[member="Darth Junra"]
[member="Darth Malificete"]
[member="Darth Metus"]
[member="Darth Mierin"]
[member="Darth Naefas"]
[member="Darth Naomi"]
[member="Darth Nephthys"]
[member="Darth Nexus"]
[member="Darth Odium"]
[member="Darth Praelior"]
[member="Darth Sevrus"]
[member="Darth Tsolan"]
[member="Darth Tuk'ata"]
[member="Darth Tyrana"]
[member="Darth Veles"]
[member="Darth Vindica"]
[member="Darth Vornskr"]
[member="Darth Zarrah"]
[member="Darth Zelane"]
[member="Desolis Kharr"]
[member="Doctor Agnusdei"]
[member="Dovian"]
[member="Dr. Cain Wards"]
[member="Dredton Torum"]
[member="Drehich Ortuga"]
[member="Drex Skyreaper"]
[member="Elaine Thul"]
[member="Eleena Miho"]
[member="Evard L'Rik"]
[member="Eve Amelia Zambrano"]
[member="Ferian Adair"]
[member="Foren Derfom"]
[member="Gahven Nightwalker"]
[member="Gancorth Typho"]
[member="Garth Hummel"]
[member="GNK-699"]
[member="Hal Terrano"]
[member="Hion the Herglic"]
[member="Invicta Zambrano"]
[member="Isley Verd"]
[member="Izinri"]
[member="Jacen Cavill"]
[member="Jaden Korr"]
[member="James Mathison"]
[member="Jared Ovmar"]
[member="Javik Quar-Kai"]
[member="Jettak Swift Yatinini"]
[member="Jora Vao"]
[member="Kaggak"]
[member="Karina Dartrex"]
[member="Kathryn Langley"]
[member="Kezeroth Barcu"]
[member="Khantor Ruu"]
[member="Kiln"]
[member="Krath"]
[member="Ksayral Zekaidos"]
[member="Kyla Verss"]
[member="Kymaero Vol"]
[member="Lady Grey"]
[member="Lady Hel"]
[member="Larkoon Darkmat'r"]
[member="Laufeia Carzi"]
[member="Leena Mai"]
[member="Lieutenant Kir"]
[member="Lily Rose"]
[member="Limos Secura"]
[member="Lord Eclipsion"]
[member="Ludolf Vaas"]
[member="Mala Kulan"]
[member="Mantorok"]
[member="Maverick"]
[member="Max Scorpio"]
[member="Maya Whitelight"]
[member="Melakoth Tyrin"]
[member="Menoetius"]
[member="Metus De'cal"]
[member="Mike Zenima"]
[member="Morningstar"]
[member="MSE-007"]
[member="Mulak Chren"]
[member="Mya Munro"]
[member="Myr"]
[member="Nam Karakk"]
[member="Nas Vua"]
[member="Natasi Fortan"]
[member="Nazo"]
[member="Nickolas Imura"]
[member="Nulgath Zardai"]
[member="Ordo"]
[member="Paega Anginous"]
[member="Potterstone"]
[member="Quinn Vos"]
[member="Ratih Lah"]
[member="Razer Sin"]
[member="Raziel"]
[member="Remy Singh"]
[member="Revy Khai"]
[member="Rex Praxus"]
[member="Rytek'irk'intrano"]
[member="sabrina"]
[member="Salvor Arnex"]
[member="Sawa Ike"]
[member="Sciath"]
[member="Selena Halcyon"]
[member="Seras Goto"]
[member="Sero Valrel"]
[member="Shargon'Ta"]
[member="Shiro De'Vol"]
[member="Silara Vantai"]
[member="Silas Tyree"]
[member="Silva Talith"]
[member="Skorn Draclau"]
[member="Skyren Vau"]
[member="Smeg"]
[member="Sorin Vanado"]
[member="Sorthus Axvyr"]
[member="Sven Talith"]
[member="Sylvanan Glass"]
[member="Syrra Venn"]
[member="Taral Mirtis"]
[member="TD-18"]
[member="TD-30"]
[member="Tefka"]
[member="The Hydra Queen"]
[member="Titus Zan Thul"]
[member="TJ-1467 Jay"]
[member="Toxarien"]
[member="Trenchcoat Man"]
[member="Tsavong Kraal"]
[member="Tyger Tyger"]
[member="Tylan Toarinar"]
[member="Vaelokin"]
[member="Vaermina"]
[member="Valduin Izbien"]
[member="Valentina Clairemont"]
[member="Vehanv Kiva"]
[member="Vilox Pazela"]
[member="Vinyata Nicashii"]
[member="Vraska Yo'gand"]
[member="VX-26"]
[member="Xavier Vi'dreya"]
[member="XoChitl"]
[member="Yen'fay"]
[member="Yruss Shien"]
[member="Zack First"]
[member="Zarran"]
[member="Zenoc Lah"]
[member="Zhaera Shai"]
[member="Zothan Venn"]
[member="Rianna Ordo"]
[member="Aedan Miles"]
[member="Sidi"]

 

[Sawa Ike]

Sawa was moving, these skinny, elves were making her frustrated in how they would keep fighting back. She just wanted to play with them and make their pretty little heads spin round round like a record round. It brought her attention back towards the rest as the dauntless blades in her hands twirled making a small face. "Come on, all sith forces move in." Her sneer came out finally as she rushed grabbing one and throwing the blade into the chest of another. Sawa held her hand up keeping her jaw closed so she couldn't scream until she wanted her to. This was going to be an enjoyable time in the end and she wasn't going to waste it.

 

[Balaya Praelior Zambrano]

Balaya was still working, the darkside going through her from the others who were there nd her own power as she continued to pour it into the organs and the worm. The one space elf coming to her as she slit its throat and the blood sprayed everywhere with her energies pushing at it to mold the body of the creature. She wanted the flesh to twist and warp and become theirs to mold into a massive beast within the One Sith. She was pouring everything she could into it. "Kepp it up, more power."

 

[Remy Singh]

This world was strange but the purebloods who were chasing the lightside group with her held their tremor swords with glee. The blade biting into them as the one sith sent their regards to the lightsiders of this world. They wanted to tear apart the republic and feral beasts were a welcome thing to have as the crazed Massassi with Remy rushed at her order going ahead. The tonfa's twirling to slice into another as the darksider group who was giving the order and telling them who to kill to upset the people. "Understood." Their words didn't need to come out she could hear their voices in her head.

 

[Sierra Momoa]

"You serve the humans, and now you can serve us." Sierra moved her blade across the chest of the being as she flew up into the air, the flapping of her wings bringing her gaze down as she grinned wickedly. The Vanr was one of the few remaining possibly since the Republic allowed the mandalorians to destroy her homeworld. They allowed the near extinction of an entire species because they were sith and these beings served them wanted to help them and their jedi pets as she moved about. Throwing the woman down and dropping to snatch another into the air with a sneer slashing her claws across the woman's face.

 

[Seras Goto]

"These will serve me well." Seras stood there looking on while she held a small grin on her face under the mask as it hissed and brought her attention onto to the small child from Tantorus who was watching her. The sith purebloods had brought their warriors here and this child had followed... amusing but she crossed her eyes for a moment speaking. "And what bring you here to me little one?" The child moved forward towards her and Seras picked up one of her scalpels with a laugh under her voice slicing into the elf. "Lets see that pretty little heart."

 

[Alexandra Feanor]

[member="Sierra Momoa"]

Alexandra watched the Vanr and pulled the woman whom Sierra was about to slash across the face out of her grasp and into Alex's arms, stabilizing herself as the woman's body impacted on hers. "You might want to run..." She said to the woman before looking up at the Vanr. Fully well knowing that Sierra was with the One Sith, Alex didn't care, what she did care about was that she was causing pain just because she could, and that was not something she would stand for, gripping onto Sierra's wings now, she would force the woman to land, or hand from the air. "You, Land now."

 

[Darth Isolda]

​

​

"How long?" came the Eye of the Dark Lord's question, the wind picking up at the ends of her inky black hair.​

​

"Soon, Chosen of Vahl -- Currently we have the Darths moving into position, infiltrating the ranks. The plan to become vessels of their Gods will go underway."​

​

A growing smirk would perk at the corner of the Chosen One's mouth.​

​

"Perfect.... simply... perfect." ​

 

[Caulder Dune]

ASHERA
THE MUSEUM OF SPIRITUAL HISTORY, DALARIA

Of all the planets in the galaxy, this one was especially irksome to Janus. Quite simply, there was no infrastructure in this city. Just narrow streets of cobblestone, mashed up against buildings purposely constructed as if they were still in the medieval era. It was a total mystery to him how anyone in this city was able to navigate these twisting, narrow alleyways to get to their workplaces. Since there was a distinct lack of industry on this planet, it was doubtful they even had meaningful jobs. Nevertheless, once the One Sith took control of the system, Janus would endeavor to give their lives more meaning. And perhaps rectify the infrastructural nightmare that was this blasted city.

Maybe if these Asherans would spend less time fawning over their blithering priests and cultural relics, they would have more time to contribute to the galactic economy. Thus the solemn duty of removing these distractions would fall upon the One Sith. He trusted his colleagues would handle the desecration of the Asheran churches and humiliation of their religious leaders. As fun as that would be, Janus had a more tangible objective in mind. Namely, looting the Museum of Spiritual History located in the capitol and selling the priceless artwork and relics therein to collectors across the galaxy for exorbitant prices.

A small task force of dropships, loaded down with stormtroopers and other Imperial personnel, glided unopposed over the capitol. There was no resistance. Naturally, the Asherans' attachment to antiquity afforded them very little in the way of an air force and anti-air emplacements. Before long, the dropships arrived at their target. They landed without much regard for stealth (who would bother against these primitives?) at key positions surrounding the building. It was a large facility that would take some time to clear out. But that only meant more profit in the short run.

The doors to Janus' dropship slid open, revealing the main entrance to the museum.

"Here we are." He remarked, stepping off the hovering transport.

He held out a hand for his lovely assistant, [member="Natasi Fortan"], to help her down.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi watched the streets of the capitol winding beneath them and remarked to herself that it seemed like a charming place to visit but a maddening place to live. Secluded as it was, it might have been a nice place to visit on some sort of study program. Or at least, it would for the next hour or so, until the team she was on lifted all the artifacts it could carry. Natasi felt a pang of regret, thinking of an Imperial strike team -- fine, any strike team -- sifting through her beloved Herevan Hold, whose priceless relics could surely finance some portion of a battlefleet.

Not that she needed to imagine it. She had given a guided tour to one such raider already, a distant cousin who would inherit the place over Natasi's father's strenuous objections. But it was best not to be bitter about it. Not, at least, while there was nothing to be done about it.

As they approached, Natasi busied herself with checking her equipment. She cut a trim figure in a dark grey uniform, calf-high black boots shined to a polish, and a lightweight blastproof vest over her chest. She worked her hands into a pair of leather gloves before checking her blaster and spare clips. She was ready, to the extent that she could be ready. When they landed, Natasi gave the sensor readouts one more glance before moving to disembark. She took [member="Darth Janus"]' offered hand and clambered to the cobbles beneath their feet, giving it a light squeeze of thanks but nothing else. It wouldn't do to make a doe-eyed fool of herself in front of junior officers. It was much better to do that in front of no one but Cousin Imogen, who was still pushing the ...or kill yourself plan of action.

"It doesn't look like it will put up much of a fight," she murmured to Tyrin after releasing his hand. She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the scene. "Where is everyone?"

 

[Reverance]

Spoiler

[media]https://soundcloud.com/user499785853/zack-hemsey-the-way[/media]

The stock cracked open and the large man inverted the weapon. Smoking and spent, the shells fell to the wooden ground and left scorch marks from the heat against the worn flooring, rolling and finding a nice resting spot between two uneven slats. Calm hands guided themselves upon the half used bandoleer belt, pulling two slugs, one by one, from their polyester holster. Before he injected more violence into the scatter gun, capable of firing two deadly hits before needing reprieve, he lifted the weapon and inspected the barrels. Clean, he thought, as blaster bolts tore through the wooden shelf behind him and pierced the dry wall and brick across from him. Street lights and their iridescent candidness peeked in on him, scoping him out to discern his intent. The slugs crawled into their metal chyrsalis, their home for now, and he cracked the sawed off shotgun to seal them tight for their temporary pupal stage.

| How did I get here? | He stepped out and placed the barrel of the gun against the hole in the shelf next to him. Drawing the hammer back, the finger pulled the first trigger and sent the pellets flying into the next room, unexpected gifts for those unprepared. He heard coughs, and gasps, and spasms, as men in armor fell to their knees and stomachs. Shaking violently, life drifted in and out from those fallen as he dived away from the shelf and rolled behind an island, the wall formerlly behind him blasted open to send wood and metal utensils like shrapnel from a claymore mine. Like a periscope from something submerged and hidden, the shotgun reared it's head over the aluminum island to fire blindly down the hallway. It hit, with unexpected precision, another soldier that found comfort in his last moments upon cool floor. The Sith lord cracked it open again, relieving the pressure and exalting another two slugs towards purpose.

| How did I get here? | He stood up, kicking the door to his right just at door knob level. The frame buckled and the door cracked and he ran into the next room, bullets grazing behind him to destroy mixers and cups and plates and cabinetry. A man, bold and brazen swung at him. His hand met the stock of the shotgun before the lord ducked and placed muzzle against chest. Pieces were all that's left of him now, paintings on the wall painted with organics. Gabriel spun, spinning the weapon in hand, and whipped the next assailant, caving glass face plate into face. Where he fired blindly down a hallway, that one would forever walk the world blind, if at all. Gabriel ran up the stairs, another attacker on carpet and bolstered by elevated position, struck air and wall with a baton. Dodging, Gabriel tossed the man down the stairs, firing off a round into the figure before he landed. Another child left without a father, another wife without a husband.

| How did I get here? | Shells hit the ground again, though cacophony would not reveal it as steps of the running and desperate dulled the world of any symphonic character. Gabriel gripped the banister, leaping up the stairs and continuing his flight. He sheathed the weapon, there was nothing left to shoot, no slugs looking for their final destination. The Sith dagger bled out from it's sheath, metallic serum and ooze with a black corded handle. There was no room, no room for lighsabers and no time for it. He acted quickly as an elbow approached his face, sharp metal plunged and twisted through the attacking olecranon. Screams, it was all he could hear, his right shoe bashing in the mans knee and dropping him like sack of rotten vegetables. Another flight of stairs, another assailant in armor and helmet. The dagger stained red and dripped a wetness, the bodies behind him and strewn across the five floor of the townhouse, home to a military man elevated to rank. He cracked open the door with a blast of force, exhaling deeply as the rain poured down upon the asphalt rooftop. Four soldiers met him in combat. One fell after a punch to Gabriel's face, a force push sending him over the edge to a splat and splash. Another struck the Sith lord with baton against armor, only to find the steel bite deep within eye socket. The other two attacked simultaneously. Gabriel blocked a fist to the chest, a kick deflected a kick. He broke the ulna of the first attack, the femur of the second. He dodged the first counter attack and elbowed downward, completely fragmenting the already broken femur of the man on the right. He later found release in the puddle as he passed out, unconscious from the pain. The last man landed a swift blow with his useful arm but pulled his last breath before succumbing to Gabriel's iron grip, the lungs no longer capable of pulling air from clamped throat. The lights upon the roof, the stars in the sky, the wet rain descending upon him. These were the last things that soldier would ever see.

The night was loud and it was quiet, drops of rain corroding and eroding the scabs of the peasants across the streets of the military metropolis, clotted and formed in the storm drain. Grates turned from rusted steel into something bloody, something visceral. The uprising was quelled and he was just a lone individual, no longer the hidden leader of some glorious rebellion. As he sucked air, pulling fabric from his robe to seal the wound upon his bicep, he collected his thoughts and understood the power of the words that day. That despite the deaths of those willing to push back, those still held under the caste system would nourish the seeds of his teachings. That the One Sith came here, on this day, and showed them true effort and ambition. Those unwilling to live their life as is would either change it or die trying. It was a glorious purpose, one worth dying for. He silently mourned the dearth of anyone capable of holding him to such sacrifice.

Crimson eye scoured the land, thinking for just a minute more, before guiding body towards evasion and escape from Militér'Si.

 

[Caulder Dune]

[member="Natasi Fortan"]

"The Asherans concentrate their military might in a single city." Janus explained. "Despite their reverance for their past and religion, it seems they lack they means to adequately defend it. Whatever part-time security guards haven't fled will provide only token resistance. Or surrender."

As usual, Janus had little interest in killing anyone. If they killed everyone who surrendered, no one would surrender. If no one surrenders, they always fight to the death. Such a thing makes planetary occupations a great deal more difficult, and this Umbaran had little intention of contributing more unnecessary black marks to the military reputation of the Sith. We will ignore, of course, his usage of military personnel to steal away artwork and artifacts of a proud culture. That was totally different.

Tyrin continued toward the entrance at a brisk pace alongside Natasi, allowing the stormtroopers to take the lead.

"I also imagine whoever stayed behind would be more focused on evacuating their precious relics through the maintenance tunnels, but the other squads should arrive in time to intercept them."

 

[Rosa Gunn]

It's simplicity was beautiful. Brought up on Kuat, and spending the majority of her years on Coruscant Rosa had learnt to love the less advanced communities. Communities like Arda. Behind her golden mask, sadness crossed her face only to be squashed by the emotion rolling from those upon the planet. The transport kicked up dust and she stepped from it, barefoot and clad in loose silk. She bore no weapon for she needed none. Three handmaidens move to stand with her, one behind, two in front.

Her orders were to instill fear, encourage those who would claim to be gods, help make the minds of the Asheran's more suggestive. But the person who had given her orders was not here. She was left with quiet and calm handmaidens so she would enjoy the calm. She turned away from the barrage of anger and pain and let her feet carry her up the empty street, moving until the throbbing eased and she could breath a little easier.

Ahead of her a temple rose, glinting slightly in the sunlight. She tilted her head to one side and contemplated entering when the door was flung open and a man, whose anger was sharper than any blade bellowed down at her, demanding she leave. His anger gave life to something she was trying to quiet and the beast rose within her. Lips curlked into a snarl beneath the mask and shadowed figures appeared around him. His anger gave way to fear as the circled behind him, driving him towards Rosa.

His fear knawed at her, made her hungry for more. Golden tendrils slid from her fingers and a little bit more of her soul faded as she drained him without remorse. The apparitions vanished and she turned away, leaving his corpse at the foot of the temple steps. Her mood soured, she let her feet carry her to a less conflicting scene.

Sith were descending in a civilized manner upon the museum. She needed civilized.

[member="Darth Janus"] [member="Natasi Fortan"]