Wow, This Faction Name Is Going To Make Things Confusing (Dominion's Hex Dominion of Ventooine)

[Arken Lussk]

Post: [01/20]
Objective: 3
Proximity: [member="Darius Sedaire"], [member="Shorarri"]

Arken had always wanted to travel. Father had never let him get around much, with the war and all, but most of that was over by now - at least he hoped. That was one of the few good things he had to say about the Dominion: they let him travel and explore as much as he liked. It was quickly becoming one of his hobbies as opposed to spending much of his free time browsing the HoloNet or playing video games with Jarvis. He'd already been to both Ession and Mirial. Before that, Dromund Kaas was all he'd ever known. The greater galaxy was strange and exciting all the same, so many things to see and so many people to meet. Sometimes their journies and strugglers were akin to his own and some were not. All in all, he enjoyed hearing their stories all the same.

Currently, he was still spinning up his tale. One that he would hopefully be able to tell his grandkids one day, about how he armed himself up with a pistol and a dark green flight suit and dropped into the forest to hunt a beast called a Terentatek. It sounded idiotic and reckless but he wasn't dropping into this mess alone. He had Master Sedaire with him.

"Observation: Humidity levels increasing; cumulonimbus clouds forming. Heavy precipitation expected." Jarvis noted matter of factly.

Arken nodded, casting his eyes upwards as he strode off of the ship alongside Master Sedaire. It was strange to see rain on a rather mountainous and rocky planet. Large forests and tropics did indeed pepper the planet, but it was known especially for its great mineral deposits. Something just felt off in general. There was that sinking feeling in his gut like something bad was going to happen.

Jarvis rotated towards him. "Query: Shall I fetch your all-weather coat, master?"

"No," he responded dryly, "I'm fine, but thank you."

There were bigger things to worry about other than a little rain.

 

[Daxton Bane]

Post 3

The hunt was proving to be quite challenging, as the Sith hung upside down from the jungle canopy. Beneath his perch was a small herd of grass grazers, herbivores that would startle easily and quickly disappear into the thick foliage. They would provide the ideal bait to lure his prey out, perhaps the wounded cries of soon to be devoured victim could bring it closer to the hunter. Raising his arms in the direction of the stags, a very light click sent a couple of spinning metal discs through the air from his wrist launchers,

Striking true, the creatures reared up in panic at the unexpected attack, before scattering in all directions, as far aspwaty from danger as their simple minds could perceive, leaving behind a trail of blood scattered on the leaves and the air. The sweet smell of freshly spilled blood would draw out the predators. Now all he had to do was sit back and let nature take its course.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

Post 1
Objective: 5

To say that Ardgal held no soul would be an understatement. Before he held morals, he had qualms, and he had the idea of right and wrong. He believed even deeper than that, he believed he was a god who decided right from wrong. But after Project: Madman had laid waste to his mind and body, rebuilding him into some sort of twisted super soldier--his fractured mind didn't have room for morals anymore.

Someone wanted something, they didn't tell him much but they said they wanted it. He didn't ask questions, he was a soldier not a philosopher or cop. This thing was a sword, and judging by how much Ardgal charged, it had to be worth at least as a city or five. From inside his helmet, the warrior looked over the technical data one last time of their mission. The image of the sword stood suspended in his vision. It looked too simple to really be worth a few creds, let alone a small private army.

He shook his head, not my concern. Blueprints of the massive mansion-esque compound it was held on flashed before his vision. The owner was some eccentric billionaire who had bought into the planet not long after its discovery.

It was a simple, cut and dry job. Too simple, Ardgal heard a nagging voice in the back of his mind. He tried to shake it away, but to no avail.

"Sir, we are coming on the drop," said one of the soldiers beside him.

"Thank you, Merron," Ardgal said gripping his rifle as he rose to his feet, "Lock and load, gentlemen."

 

[WolfMortum]

Post Count: 2
Location: The Chimaera.

[member="Lady Kay"] had her own personal escort of the 501st, two lines filing alongside the landing bay leading towards the large durasteel blast doors that led deeper into the vessel. Standing between the Free Lady and that however, Veiere Arenais stood with his hands behind his back awaiting her. To his right stood Vikras Ansion, a man born of her world, Commenori by blood and once one of the top naval commanders within her military. He had been drafted into Veiere's charge the day that Kay had been stolen from her throne, and he stood by his continued loyalty for her as the queen leader of his homeworld, as he did trust in Veiere and the nature of their potential in leading The Dominion. While Vikras bowed respectfully, Veiere only smiled as he glanced to either line of the white armored troopers, they following in their Admiral's form, so not to appear any higher in stature than their naval officer.

"Kay, I must say this is unexpected...-For you to be getting caught up in affairs of the Dominion's, I must ask, do your people back home get any free time whilst doing your job in your stead" he smiled broadly, his amused tone of voice none too subtle and lacking all seriousness of the accusation that she would leave all her works in the hands of her personnel, "A venture such as this will certainly make some waves..." He added with a little more sincerity to his words, turning and sweeping a head towards the door, awaiting for her to step to his side so that they might leave the hangar.

"My engineers will see to the Free Lady, she will be primed for departure as soon as you wish to return, but for the time being I'd have you take one of the rooms on the top deck. There's a spare that's...-Not currently in use", the last occupant having been killed on atrisia, force give him peace..

 

[Shorarri]

The grey clouds soon gave way to rain and Shorarri roared softly in dismay. The Wookiee waited patiently as his new found friend exited the shuttle. He asked if Shorarri had ever heard of a beast called a Terrentatek but, Shorarri could not say he had. [No I have not, but surely it’ll be no match for a Jedi!] He roared. As he walked through the small village he noticed most of the people kept indoors. They peered out at the hunters and refugees through parted window shades. Some of them shook heads at the hunters and Shorarri couldn't help but wonder why. [These people are frightened, but of what?] Shorarri asked aloud. The houses were barred with corrugated metal. The few people that walked out and about appeared to be armed with heavy rifles and at the end of the village Shorarri spied what appeared to be a watch tower.

Shorarri neared the edge of the town and stone began to litter the dirt road. As Shorarri rounded the corner he could see the stone came from a house that looked like it had been blown open. The metal bars had been bent apart and the adobe brick had been smashed to pieces. But, despite the wanton destruction there were no scorch marks or indications of explosives. It was as if the house had been torn apart by a gigantic beast. The sight made Shorarri shutter. While the Wookiee stopped to observe the destruction a grizzled old man approached.

His face bore a hundred wrinkles and his eyes had a profound sadness about them. He spoke and his voice was belied by his age giving way to soft rasp and light wheezes “So you be the hunters, the Dominion has sent eh? Well let me tell you they should’ve sent more!” The old man cried out “This here is the Romose home, or at least it was… Till The Onyx Berserker got ahold of ‘em.” He said more softly and he suddenly seemed to become very tired. “Many have tried to kill the beast, but all have failed and you will too! My son tried and now he's nothing more than dust and bone. What's left of him at least… Mark my words you’ll all be dead soon… You need to turn back and go home... ” The old timer trailed off and Shorarri shook his head at the man.

[Crazy old coot] The wookiee Growled, then turned to regard his companion. [We should get out of here before that old fart tries to scare us some more.] As Shorarri turned to leave he noticed a peculiar looking group. Two humans and a droid. [Strange group of hunters wouldn't you say?] Shorarri barked as he pointed them out to his Jedi friend.

[member="Darius Sedaire"]
[member="Arken Lussk"]

 

[Kay-Larr]

Objective: 1
Post: 3

It took a moment, but she found him, and when she did, she couldn't help but smile. With almost a spring in her step she walked through the assembled lines of troops and approached [member="Veiere Arenais"] and Admiral Anison. She bowed her head to them both in greeting.

She smirked at Veiere's comments about her leaving Commenor for 'meddling in the Domain's affairs'. "Well, my Doctor did say to delegate my duties more. He said that it would ease my stress and help me cope with my trauma. And what better way to destress than to come out and give you a hand?"

Kay followed along beside him, wanting to take hold of his arm, linking them together, but not entirely sure if she should. Veiere had an image to uphold among those that served beneath him. They both did. So she knew full well to keep herself in check while they were in the public eye. And it wasn't as though they were on their free time. Veiere had a mission to do.

She nodded as he mentioned the care that the Free Lady would have, as well as the spare room that was available to her. "Thank you. I appreciate it. After I'm settled in, would you care to debrief me on this diplomatic adventure?" No matter how many times she had left politics, the Force had a way of pushing her back into it. There was no escaping it, it seemed.

 

[WolfMortum]

Post Count: 3
Location: The Chimaera.
Associates: Lady Kay.

He had nothing to hide from the crew nor the 501st aboard his own ship, though appearances did matter, he stood at the head of the Dominion as was Cyril's wish after death, this position of leadership though not what he had ever truly asked for, did not also mean that he felt inclined to change in the sincerity of who he was as a man, more to the point, as her man. [member="Lady Kay"] seemed to pause and to this Veiere took the hint, he took her extended his arm in wish she seemed to take it, the comfort of having her close always helped to keep his stress levels below their typical norm of late. "The walk to the above deck will give us plenty of time and my mission on Bosph is of no military secret, I'm meeting with the Council, an elected circle of force sensitives, leaders of each major clan to try and persuade their people to accept the aid and protection of the Dominion..." his tone faded as he took a moment, deciding how best to explain the reputation around the Bosph species, "They are rumored to be somewhat superstitious, the force to them is some sort of higher power, they believe in a deity of some sort though I know not what they call it. I do feel that were I or anyone else to show sensitivity to the Force, that they'd not only pick up on this but perhaps be more inclined to trust in us..." It sounded borderline devious, to use these peoples faith to their advantage in such a way that it could tip the favor of influence to the benefit of the Dominion, yet Veiere would not come to these people with promises and fail to live up to expectations, the reach of the Dominion could certainly aid such an isolationist species in technological and supplementary advancement.

Behind them, the footsteps of three storm troopers echoed louder than the few that had arrived along with Kay Larr, she of course had not come alone, though their quarters would be one floor down, beneath the bridge and the command center, where as his private quarters would neighbor her own temporary stay beyond the command deck itself. "Try not to let the 501st or any of the crew get to you too much, they're all good people and it's easy to get lost aboard the Chimaera during your first few days. Your presence will be being documented likely as we speak and I've issued you personal clearance through to most decks save for our R&D as well as the Military Command Center, rooms you'll not need to bother yourself with as you'll see the over all run of the vessel from the bridge personally. Here aboard the Chimaera, my home is your home...".

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Darius felt his stomach sink as they strolled through the town. There wasn't much left of the place, truth be told. It had never been a particularly lively town so far as Darius could tell; nothing more than a gathering of farmers and folks that wanted a quieter life on the outer rim. The knight errant watched them with a face of stone. He doubted any of them would have wanted to see his pity, though he felt it all the same. Whatever fears he might have had about coming to deal with the beasts were extinguished the moment he saw their faces. That quiet displeasure was replaced by an overwhelming sense of desire to help these people, to offer them the assistance they so desperately craved. These people needed compassion, and Darius had it in spades.

"You don't need to worry sir," Darius said, his voice cool with practiced confidence. It was all just an act, truly, but it was one that Darius had perfected over the many years. People expected many things from Jedi, some of the more recent ideas being rather unpleasant, but few heard of the atrocities committed in the order's name so far out here. They expected the Jedi of old: cool, confident, and compassionate. All these things Darius could give to them. "My friend and I are experienced hunters, and I come on behalf of the Jedi Order."

An order that doesn't exist anymore.

The old man just grunted as he went on his way, his piece spoken. Darius lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. "He'll feel better once we solve the issue. Now, this beast we're hunting is big, and it has long claws coated in venom. You'll want to keep a distance when dealing with it, and -" Darius snorted. " - they do look a little odd. Shall we say hello?"

[member="Shorarri"]

 

[Kay-Larr]

Objective: 1
Post: 4

Kay smiled a little to herself as [member="Veiere Arenais"] extended his arm. She took it gladly, hooking her own arm with his. To her, something so simple meant something. It solidified their relationship even more. If another woman tried to get in between them, well, she just didn't know what she'd do or how 'composed' she'd be.

She furrowed her brows as she listened to Veiere speak of this Council that they were expected to meet. Force sensitives. Normally that wasn't an issue, but Kay liked to maintain her secret if at all possible. There were many in the political arena that didn't trust Force users in power. She knew that first hand. "What do you suggest that I do? My first instincts tell me not to hide. If I do hide and they later discover my sensitivity, then trust might be an issue for them down the road. But there's a chance that they won't discover it too." There was the chance that they could tell others and have the rumour spread. But, if they have little contact with others, then that may not be much of an issue. "What do you think?"

The footfalls of the Storm Troopers caught her attention and she looked behind her, noticing them flank her own guards. Part of it reminded her of being in First Order space, arrested for a false crime that was later dropped. But this was Veiere's ship. He had her trust and she had his, although she could understand having restrictions put on her. There were things on board that just weren't her business and she respected that.

"Thank you. I'll try not to overstay my welcome. As you say, I can't be away from Commenor for too long. They need me..." And she needed them. Just because she was abducted and abandoned, it didn't mean that she would abandon her world so easily.

 

[Darth Eversor]

Wandering, lost. This planet held no familiarity whatsoever, Abraxas had never once stepped foot upon such a place. He stumbled aimlessly, the hilt of his own lightsabre clutched firmly within his right hand. His breathing filled the small space inside of his helmet with humidity, his HUD flashed red with warning signs about vitality and blood loss - splendid, just what the former Sith needed. As Abraxas continued his trek into nowhere, he could feel each step taking its toll, just as leaving the Sith entirely would have its own.

But alas, he was the survivor here. The Sith were foolish in their endeavors to attempt to neutralize the genetic duplicate of the notorious Darth Carnifex. There was admittedly still a small sense of pride and satisfaction that Abraxas felt from slaughtering his enemies, albeit at the cost of approaching mortality's end himself. Beads of sweat formed upon his brow as he searched for anything nearby, any establishment at all - but there was nothing to sate his desire to find respite. Only silence.

The world around Abraxas began to spin and fade into a darkness, slowly but surely. Anger welled up within his being, the refusal to die under such circumstances without even coming close to his endgame. Through the Force, the mighty former executioner roared at the top of his lungs, hoping something would come and end him swiftly or aid him. He didn't deserve help after all he'd done in his past, and it was almost certain that he would die alone and forgotten.

To wither away under the weight of his own sins.

[member="Darius Sedaire"] | [member="Shorarri"]

 

[Atlas Kane]

Crunch.

Old concrete made the sound after a man's back and head impacted it. He slid down the wall to his knees, looked up into the sky for a second, then fell over limp. His blue forehead slammed against the stones on the road.

Crack.

A different man's arm made the sound. His free hand shot straight to where the upper part of his arm was now continuing nearly orthogonal to the rest of his arm. He fell down screaming bloody murder, squirming in pain, blood flooding the area around his bent arm. White was showing.

Schwt.

A woman cried out in pain. A metal blade had impaled itself into the woman's chest. Blood started flowing out immediately. She wore no armour, merely heavy duty work clothing. She fell over backwards. Gravity was making the blood flow down her neck, over her shoulders, and down her sides. The yellow-brown fur was getting a make-over.

In the middle of the road was a single man, hat casting a shadow over his hidden face, a cloth mask made only his yellow glowing eyes visible. His long brown coat was stained with red in various places. He was standing, his legs spread in a combat stance, hands held up, ready to strike. His eyes shifted around the scene and his stance visibly relaxed. He stretched his neck and began walking towards the Cathar woman, arm going for the knife.

Mr Kevin Jaron, as the name plate pointed out, looked through the window of the Cantina. Business was low lately, so far outside the city and with reports of beasts today there had been only one customer all day, the one that left just now. He was cleaning the plates back in the kitchen. He could see a man in a hat and a mask wearing a long coat walking to collect something off of a prone person. His position didn't allow him to see much more than the foot of the person. He had just started, so he hadn't seen what came before, but he heard sounds, and going off of those, he'd wager there was a fight. None of his business.

The grip was bound in black leather, high-quality stuff. The blade itself was stained with red liquid but revealed the matte black metal below easily after the cloth passed over it. A lot of memories stuck to this blade. Though the blood stains could be wiped off easily, the memories would remain. It was one of the things that kept the man from buying a new knife. Of course, there were plenty of opportunities when the knife broke, to just go out and buy a new one, but he fixed the knife each time, creating small patterns along its blade. Fairly beautiful, artsy even.

[member="Abraxas"] | [member="Darius Sedaire"] | [member="Shorarri"]

 

[Daxton Bane]

Post 4

Daxton knelt down and examined the ground near the cave entrance, the tracks thorugh the muddy moss were still fresh, mixed liberally with the spilt blood of his bait. He knew that the predators couldn't resist a weaken prey, the opportunity as too good to pass upon. Now he found the lair and with it the prize.

Terentateks were truly a worthy foe, their hides were immune to most Force based effects amd they had spines which oozed out vile toxins, capable to rendering a powerful foe incapacitated with a single blow. Gripping the force pike in his left hand, he activated the low light vision capacity of his helmet before stepping into them cave. He could feel the blood begin to course as the target of his hunt grew closer. Time to roll the dice once more.

 

[Ras'kala'han]

Post: 1
Location: The Jungle
Allies: [member="Krest"]
Enemies: [member="Abraxas"]
Objective: Predation

Who were the people that that the traitor killed? Normally, a Sith that dies in battle is no one, by virtue of their weakness. By virtue of their failure. But these ones were never intended to survive. When he had asked a certain, more educationally-inclined ally of his for the "best that he could also afford to lose," he had been delivered exactly what he had needed. Well, 'who,' but it was all technicality. Whether it was a sentient on two legs or a Kath Hound crawling in the dirt, a hunting dog was a hunting dog. Even if they had perished, they had done their work.

So congratulations, dead people! You served a purpose. You drove the prey out of hiding, you harried him, you wounded him... now, it will fall to the man who held the leash to do the true work at hand.

And that was the last that he ever thought about the people whose lives were laid down for his sake.

Pressing forwards into the jungle, the weakness in his limbs evident, Antherion preferred to mark a steady, forwards pace that would make the shaking in his legs and arms less evident, rather than risk falling or visibly limping. It was a task of concentration to maintain the support his legs needed to move -- steady them, flex the muscles, support them. He pressed a hand against a tree. The limb shook as a prodigious scream echoed through the forest.

The slender Sith, clad in a functional set of robes intricately embroidered with Sith runes and patternwork, made his way further, following the sound. The cry, a prayer for silence. For solace. It would go ungranted. He intended to reap as much of a reward as he could from this... and that meant to deliver the younger Zambrano to his progenitor. Alive.

If he had a speck of pity left in him, it would have been enough to weep for the fate that the fool had chosen through his treachery.

 

[The Count]

Post: I
Objective: Smuggle artifacts off-world
Location: Neelgaimon

"Y'know, it's always nice to visit a new planet. Get outta' the ship 'erry once in a while and stretch your legs. 'Specially after that six year stint in prison, eh?" Dexen said, strolling casually down the ramp of his ship, a YT-2000 affectionately called the 'Quick Credit'. "Oh, for the love of the Maker; It's been four years since you got off of that rock, get over it, Dexen." IG-456 said, clanking down after the Alderaanian criminal. The man scowled "Of course you'd say that, six years is only a speck of time to your chronometer. To a man like me, six years is a long time. Four years nearly isn't long 'nough to forget about it." He chuckled.

Dexen grabbed the satchel that IG handed to him, slinging the strap over his soldier. He gave a light pat to the holster mounted on his right hip to make sure that his modified DL-18 was still there and he didn't leave it on the ship. "We'll 'ave to walk, I've 'eard bad things about the beasts on this planet; Terentateks are nasty business, a speeder might attract 'em, though we might be able to nick some of 'ere hides if we drop one." The man said, motioning for the droid to follow him as they began their trek to their target.

An abandoned crypt.

 

[Arken Lussk]

Post: [02/20]
Objective: 3
Proximity: [member="Darius Sedaire"], [member="Shorarri"], [member="Abraxas"], [member="Antherion"], [member="Dexen Yash"]

The dreary skies heavy with impending rainfall just darkened the whole mood.

The small town that looked big enough to be rife with life proved the exact opposite as they drew nearer. Darius and Shorarri strode before him, leaving the young Padawan and his mechanical companion to pull up the rear of their little impromptu formation of sorts. He was hoping for more of an exciting adventure and now all he had to look forward to was mud and fighting some beast conjured up from his nightmares. Arken really had no interest in fighting, or seeing, whatever this thing happened to be.

As for Jarvis, he was apt to vaporize anything he was authorized to, so he was pretty content with that possibility actually occurring.

Arken sighed, shifting his gait to and fro. He kicked a few rocks, sending them skittering.

"Wait." The young man halted. He drew a finger to his lips, silencing the group.

Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by a thunderous roar.

Something welled up deep inside of him. Darkness and despair, pain and agony. He could feel it, as if he were reading the last few pages of a Holobook. Nothing but foreshadowing of an impending end. Whether it was actually thunder or not, he didn't know. It sounded unnatural, guttural, primal.

"What was that?"

 

[Shorarri]

Shorarri listened to his companion explain the gist of the Terrentatek to him. A foul creature to be sure, but Shorarri knew he and his new friends would surely beat the beast. As the rest of the hunters drew near Shorarri was shushed by Arken. A loud roar echoed throughout the town and Shorarri thought surely it was the creature. [It draws near!] Shorarri said excitedly. He entered the tall grass plains that boarded the town and hefted his bowcaster up.

The grass blew gently in the breeze. It was long and tan, dying with the coming of fall. Soon the plains that surrounded the town would once more give way to the barren earth that was so common to this world. The great grey clouds succumbed to rain and Shorarri felt the dew on the crisp grass with his free hand. [A beautiful world to be sure...] Shorarri growled quietly. He felt a deep sadness for the beast that roamed this surface. Its cry was one of such anguish. Despite all that Shorarri had heard of the creature, he felt sympathy for it.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

A number of things made Darius flinch. There were the sound of blaster fire coming from the edge of town, and then there was the rather monstrous scream that seemed to shake the very earth beneath his feet. It was a scream that Darius recognized all too well, though it was an impossibility. That creature was dead. Perhaps they had unleashed another onto the world? He supposed that he would be finding out soon enough. For the moment, his attentions were drawn toward the edge of town, where he made out the figure of [member="Azalus"] marching down the road. His lips parted to say something that might make the apparent murderer halt, but a rumble of thunder muted his voice.

Something drew close. Arken took note of it, and Shorarri was already drawing up his bowcaster to deal with the threat. A quiet curse fell from Darious' lips, and his lightsaber came to life in his hand. The blade, somewhere between green and yellow in cover, sprang to readiness as another roar of thunder rolled over the hills. Locals slammed their doors shot. The soldiers took up positions of action. Darius moved instinctively toward the sound, and it did not take long for him to find the source.

The being was physically disimilar than what he remembered, but he felt identical within the force. It could not be a clone. If it was, things would have been the other way around. No, there was only one true explanation for this: Abraxas was alive and present on Neelgaimon.

"Stay back," Darius ordered of his two companions. He stepped forward, just a few feet away from the wounded creature. "I killed you on Ambria," Darius stated, his blade held at the ready in case his former adversary struck. "Yet here you are. Explain it to me. Are you the one that's been killing these villagers?"

There was a quiet danger to his voice, but Darius was otherwise rather calm and collected. He did not move a muscle, his attentions never leaving the Sith Lord.

[member="Shorarri"], [member="Arken Lussk"], [member="Dexen Yash"], [member="Antherion"], [member="Abraxas"], [member="Azalus"]

 

[Darth Eversor]

Posts 2/20
Enemies: [member="Antherion"] | [member="Krest"]
Allies: Unknown
Objective: Survive

Abraxas leaned against a nearby dead tree, left hand clutching his side as he focused through the Force, mingling with the Dark Side in order to recover from his otherwise fatal wounds. His anger is what kept him moving and from falling into unconsciousness. But as he reached out, he could feel multiple lifeforms converging on his position. One he could already decipher as another Sith coming to finish the job the others failed to do, and yet, there was one that was all too familiar. Someone he had confronted long ago, in another lifetime.

Exhaling raggedly, the now Sith defector ignited his crimson blade, it came to life with a distorted, fiery appearance. Instead of a low-droning hum, it emitted a low dissonance that reflected the once monstrosity's foul, wretched soul. Something almost beyond redemption. His only intention now as to survive, or die trying.

He was ready for another fight. But then there he was, the one that he had confronted in the past.

The Jedi... once a boy, now a young man. How he'd grown in the Force.

Almost acting on impulse to strike at the former enemy, Abraxas stopped himself and thought for a moment before answering the demand of the lad. This could either go in his favor, or it could end badly and he could end up squaring off between hunters of the Sith as well as a Jedi and his comrades. An damning predicament indeed. But alas, he'd control his rage, for he knew better now. He was not the same monster that slaughtered innocents nor destroyed cities under a deceitful banner.

"You thought you killed me, but I clung to life. I called out to the Force, and it answered me with favor." The Sith's breathing being just as loud as his own voice. "And what villagers? I haven't a clue where I am, dammit. I crashed here because the Sith discovered my treason, my defection from their ranks. I care little about their agenda, now they want me dead for fear that I might rise against them."

Abraxas stood upright, aiming his blade towards the Jedi. "I don't give a damn about your affairs or what you have against me. I'm as good as dead, and there are more servants of the Sith on their way to finish what th others could not. Either you join them and corner me, or you cease this now and aid me. I can give you information on a couple of the Lords in the Ascendancy's hierarchy."

The former Sith snapped his head towards a sound among the foliage, gripping the curved hilt of his lightsabre with both hands, stance at the ready.

[member="Darius Sedaire"] | [member="Shorarri"] | [member="Arken Lussk"] | [member="Azalus"] | [member="Dexen Yash"]

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: In orbit over Trian
Objective: 4
Allies: Dominion
Enemies: Unknown
Post: 3/38

Having received no response from [member="Seraya Whisperwind"], Dunames initiates the landing sequence, in hopes that the padawan would answer the question Dunames asked in short order. However, as with anything that would befit a refugee colony, the local authorities must grant approval for the project prior to the project being built. Sure, this spaceport will have nothing on Cademimu-Flashpoint or Rakata Beta, but it has to be able to service the population and the local timber industry. The terminal will have to be built using two floors of timber frame, and also making use of the very same equipment as was used on Kaeshana, Subterrel et al. But there is no pavement to be had just yet; the landing zone may well be 200x200m wide, with a hypermatter farm, just that pavement may seem to be a luxury on a planet like Trian. Nevertheless, there is a good load of timber to be had from this planet beyond what's necessary to build the colony.

"How do we want this to be different from what we did on Kaeshana, beyond the materials?"

"Not much of a change is required actually. If it can be built on a wooden frame, I'm OK with that" Merrily answered.

 

[Ras'kala'han]

Post: 1
Location: The Jungle
Allies: [member="Krest"]
Enemies: [member="Abraxas"], [member="Darius Sedaire"] (?)
Objective: Hide and Seek

"As good as dead?" Unwelcome, the spindly figure stepped gingerly out of the bushes, as if summoned by the defector's momentary mention of those who sought to finish the job. "You're too kind to yourself, Darth Eversor." He put special stress on the Sith's old name, the true name, the name that should have forever been his when he left all others behind to put a single, unwavering bead of darkness at the core of his self. Antherion had never taken the Darth name, but he knew what it was: a transformative moment. He held no sentimentality to it, but figured that any barb he could inflict on the traitor would be worthwhile.

"I mean, yes, we could easily kill you and suffer no reprisal, but that's not why we truly want you. You're a runaway. Lost. Alone... So we're here to take the prodigal and gather him back home, to the bosom of his heartland, safe from the corruptions of the outside world." He grinned openly. "Can you imagine the welcome home you'll receive on Panatha?"

He was a stark contrast to the functional, beleaguered severity and strength of Abraxas - this hunter was readily apparent physical weakness, but he moved and spoke lightly, as though this was all a game he was watching from above, and his oppressive power was fresh and untested today.

"Jedi -- step away from the fugitive, or help me capture him. This is the kind of Sith Lord who laughs in the entrails of his enemy... it is our responsibility to reign him in, lest his wanton, barbaric violence sully the name of our Order." Lies, mostly, but mingled with enough truth or things that were once true that he hoped it would persuade the Knight who was on the other side of the warrior.

Turning to his prey, Antherion took no pause in taking subduing action. With telekinetic power, he forced his shaking fingers to bend and hold the necessary hand positions to swiftly move through a Sith spell, calling up an illusory, black mist that crept across the ground like a rushing tied, seeking to grasp the man and hold him down. As he looked deeper into it, it would reflect his shame and uncertainty -- the mist would fall away, and he would see the rushing bodies of his former servants and courtesans, butchered by lightsaber wounds for the treachery of one, grasping at him to cut off air with rotted hands, dragging him down into their ilk of slaughtered corpses. All the while, Antherion hummed a merry tune, hand extended, focusing on the illusion.