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Karon

Karon

Member Since 30 Jul 2015
Offline Last Active Nov 17 2019 09:52 PM
*****

#1937803 Karon, Sith Tutor

Posted by Karon on 25 April 2019 - 07:36 PM

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"The only lesson a Sith truly needs to learn is how to kill their teacher. Naturally, this means the longer I live, the more convinced I am that our Order's a gaggle of doomed idiots. Maybe you will be the one to finally prove me wrong."

 

NAME: Karon


FACTION: The Sith Empire

 

RANK: Overseer

 

SPECIES: Miraluka

 

SEX: Male

 

BUILD: Tall, lanky

 

EYES: N/A

 

HAIR: Long, Black

 

SKIN: Pale

 

FORCE SENSITIVE: Yes

 

 

 

STRENGTHS

- Karon is well-educated in both practical and theoretical matters of the Force's history, as well as many of its sects. As far as he is concerned, someone without expertise teaching is an offense to the subject and the profession - so naturally, he cultivates it to the utmost degree. 

- As a Miraluka, Karon is Force-Sensitive. That he is not yet a Lord is mainly due to his stubborn refusal to play even the most basic sort of politics; he has some gaps in his knowledge regarding combat and physical enhancement - though he dismisses things he cannot learn as beneath him.

- Due to his tendency to serve as a teacher and mentor, Karon has a small network of contacts in his former acolytes who are reasonably disposed to him.

 

WEAKNESSES

-Due to his tendency to serve as a Sith teacher and mentor, at least a few angry Sith would be quite happy to see him dead by their hand or another's. 

- Karon is abrasive. His tendency to speak his mind regardless of the difference in rank or power, or even the allegiance of his present company causes him frequent trouble - as does his less-than-pleasant demeanor.

- As a Miraluka, Karon may see only through the Force. Disruption of the Force fogs his vision, outright blocking it blinds him profoundly. 

 

 

 

BIOGRAPHY

Karon has spent his life travelling - from Sith world to Sith world, library to library - always following in the wake of whatever grand dream or Empire has risen. Currently, the Sith Brotherhood is the great power of the Dark Side - though he is skeptical it will last. Contemptuous of politics as the playground of those with too much time on their hands, and the project of planetary conquest as a dull trudge towards bloated pointlessness, the only thing he finds value in is knowledge - and in passing the knowledge on to those worthy. The Sith will create the future - so how does one tame the future? Naturally, one creates the Sith. 




#1899087 Playing With The Big Boys Now | TSE Invasion of TJE's Csilla Hex

Posted by Karon on 08 January 2019 - 10:29 PM

Location: Csaplar, Csilla

Allies: The Jen'Ari Empire

Enemies: The Sith Empire

 

Soma sat crosslegged on the balcony of a skyscraper, breathing in the icy wind. It was a worthy test of their concentration to meditate while the battle raged in the sky above them. So, the others had come. It was... expected. When destroying your body isn't enough to send you into death's grasp, when your voice is the sole source of authority for a swathe of the Galaxy, when you have forged one of the most stable and far-reaching Sith Empires in the modern era and stand head and shoulders above all rival states, what do you have left that can be threatened?

 

Only your legitimacy.

 

What a petty comfort having at least irritated them is, they thought, but it seems to be one of the few ones we have. They tried to get a sense of how badly they were outnumbered, but the battlefield was an untraceable sea of lights drowning in the report of blasters. Closing off their other senses, they looked at the sky through the eyes of the Force, and... a sea of lights. How many pinpricks? More than worth counting, these things were fluid. Many. They didn't bother to hide their hostile intent, though the Force-users shone through like pearls in a sea of muck. 

 

"Then as it is, so shall it be."

 

If necessary, they would stand against the tide alone. However, to take any meaningful action, their air superiority had to be shaken... as it was now, the Jen'Ari were outnumbered and outgunned. I will need to secure a dropship.

 

Like icy water trickling over their body, slowly covering them, they wrapped themselves in a simple illusion - a bird in flight. Spreading their ragged, feather-insect wings, confident in their false appearance and too small to appear on the average ship's radar, Soma took flight, buoyed by a fell, conjured wind, searching for prey. 




#1899083 Playing With The Big Boys Now - TSE Invasion of TJE's Csilla Hex OOC

Posted by Karon on 08 January 2019 - 10:25 PM

Fighting on the side of the Jen'Ari, seeking an opponent. Currently out and about in the city airspace, hunting for a dropship to intercept or a Sith to duel.




#1896472 Playing With The Big Boys Now | TSE Invasion of TJE's Csilla Hex

Posted by Karon on 01 January 2019 - 02:06 PM

"Did you think that I would just lie down and die?" The bare-chested young man, eyes burning with uncanny fire eyed the alien prisoner with cold regard. It offered no response, its eyes twitching from left to right, full of fear, suspended upside-down above a silvery, engraved bowl. "Here, I'll tell you a secret -- I did. I'm me, but I'm not me. I'm... I'm someone else. I can't believe I was ever so completely lost, believing that after four thousand years, it would just be the same old me. The same old answers."

 

"...you don't understand. Don't worry, I don't expect you to. Death will make things clear. You'll know when you come back." At mention of this, the prisoner began to squirm and thrash, so Vesper seized it with a pale hand and cleanly cut its throat. Not waiting for its twitching to stop, its ink-black blood to slow in its flow, he began to mix his ingredients. Herbs from Korriban and Voss, synthesized drugs, gratings of precious metals and gemstones. A swing of the censer. A whisper. A gift of lightning, and a scrap of fiber from a mummy's wrappings, a song, soil from the Valley of the Sith and scrap iron from the Valley of the Jedi. 

 

Regarding it for a moment with pride, Vesper then seized the bowl and quickly poured it into a silver chalice, smiling. The voices echoed in his mind. The rite was exactly as they described, just what was demanded of him. Perfection, nothing less, maybe even something more.

 

"Typhojem, on the eve of war I entreat your valediction. God of all who hate, God of king and traitor, lay on me your blessing. Let me be sullied by perversity, and put me beyond redemption. Let me be broken, that I may be reforged. Let me be as one with the nothingness that is the dark, that I may come into the fullness of being. Hail to thee. Hail to the Sith. Hail to the Dark."

 

Alone, in the empty prison hall, he christened his forehead and his heart with the mixture, and it burned against his skin. Looking at the leftover bubbling in the cup, he raised it in a toast. "To the end of the Galaxy. To the destruction of all life. And to the war that never ceases." He drank deep, and as it poured over his chin, dripped down his forehead, stained his lips the color of ink, he could not feel more satisfied. He could hear the colors at the edges of sound, complete in their resonance, and knew, for the first time in far too long, the simplicity of bliss. 

 

 

 

As the planet of Csilla loomed underneath him, Vesper smiled. He was dressed in pure, white robes, no weapons carried on him. He plucked a sheet of paper from a scroll casing, crumpled it into a ball, and chewed it for a bit before swallowing. The ink was bitter on his tongue, but the Vahla spell-scroll (a reward for a long-forgotten campaign of some sort or another) would lend power enough to contend with whatever foes he saw fit to. 

 

Some might challenge these "Jen'Ari" for the heresy of contesting with the Emperor - that terrible God-King he had faced and turned away from shaking, a ghastly being of power unimaginable. Not Vesper. To say that war was a matter of loyalty, to say that a Sith needed reason to go to war, was already wrong-headed. 

 

War was the Sith's way of being. Death and destruction, their raison d'etre

 

Why join his brethren in their charge against the Jen'Ari? Hate. Hate was all the excuse he needed. Breathing in sharply, he smiled. He could sense it soon. The dance was starting.




#1885384 Playing With The Big Boys Now - TSE Invasion of TJE's Csilla Hex OOC

Posted by Karon on 25 November 2018 - 12:53 PM

I'm looking for anyone to tango with - if you want to fight a Zambrano, hit me up.




#1855901 The Emperor's Ball

Posted by Karon on 05 September 2018 - 11:08 PM

It would be the height of blasphemy for Darth Vesper, Lord of Avarice, would miss something as lovely as the Emperor's Ball. A night where the powerful rubbed elbows with the powerful? You have his interest. A night where one could do that and show of their latest extravagant fashion? You have his attention, his adoration. Indeed, just off the dance floor, he sat, glass of bubbling champagne in hand, hair swept just right out of the way of his gold eyes. Sitting, relaxing. Just watching.

 

For dress, it was full Sith chic. Nothing less would do - a long-sleeve, close-fitting tunic of silky, white fabric with the shoulders exposed - as though constantly sliding down, though the fit held it in place. Bracelets, rings, and a choker of matching Xonolite - a red-black metal imported from Mustafar, laser-cut into designs detailed with faintly visible Sith writing, different letters of the Kittat glimpsed with each shimmer and shift of the light, fragments of passages of unholy texts. 

 

Atop his head, a crown of chemically preserved bloodflowers, looking as fresh as though they had just been plucked. On his shoulder to hide the sterile, chemical scent of preservative, a daub of rosy perfume. 

 

And yet, still, he wasn't dancing. He wasn't even conversing. As the Commenor survivors, Mandalorians, and Sith went about their intrigues, from a comfortable distance through the noise of the crowd, he simply watched. Not the searching gaze of the spy, but idle interest. Something on his mind, something out of sight, his thoughts out of step with whatever was around him. 

 

"No," he said, "You wouldn't have danced either, would you? You would have slipped away with all the haste you could have mustered - but not now. Now that you're gone, I can dance all I want and not worry about anything as troublesome as sisters or apprentices."

 

He paused, pensive. "Now that you're gone, I'm free to do what I please." He didn't rise from his place. Even as the music swelled and swayed, that one icy hand hardened his heart, and his gaze was fixed forwards, the taste of ashes in his mouth.




#1855729 Turn Your Back On Mother Nature

Posted by Karon on 05 September 2018 - 04:46 PM

Vesper had heard all that he had needed to from Darth Maliphant. "Deal." 

 

"My company has been growing further into Imperial space, but frankly some of its locations merit closing. They're based on outdated power bases that were backed by currently nonexistent governments. The rule of this sort of business is adapt or die, and I choose adapt. I will close the Malachor branch of LuxArc biomedicals and relocate it to Barbatos - and as for a specific arrangement, I'd say we can let our financiers work it out." 

 

"That being said, I think complete transparency between the Barbatos branches in terms of corporate research - our own personal research, we can reserve the right to keep private, even if we're likely going to be sharing a large portion of it. If you'd like, I could put together a quick written contract, but I think for us, verbal promise is sufficient for now. Until the corporate lawyers get their hands on things."

 

"I'd offer you a toast to our mutual success, but in lieu of that I think all we need is a hearty congratulations. To what you've done, and what you will do."

 

To what you will become... brother.




#1855610 Dark Magic

Posted by Karon on 05 September 2018 - 12:50 PM

Vereshin

 

Can I interest you in the possibility of us perhaps delving into the secrets of the Sorcerers of Rhand? It's something I always wanted to do, and there are any number of arcane rituals we could go about in getting them. 

 

Alternatively, we could build some Black Fireclaws for ourselves. A wand-like weapon that's pretty perfect for a wizard, from an obscure Star Wars comic (Devilworlds). 




#1855606 Change the Ship Size restrictions for Individuals and Companies

Posted by Karon on 05 September 2018 - 12:39 PM

John Locke

 

Telling stories that make sense, and taking actions in the fiction that are underwritten by a compelling logic, will always be done by good writers regardless of rules allowing them to do otherwise and will never be done by bad writers in spite of rules trying to dissuade them. The regulation that the we have, and the only one we really need, is our ability to choose which fiction to acknowledge. 

 

Because of the new Force system - and technically even before it - powers like hyperspace-based Force Storms, Bendu-style weather manipulation, mass mind-control, and oversized Death Fields are all in the hands of any player, barring certain rules. The reason they aren't being overused is because the people who abuse them end up without roleplaying partners, because their writing doesn't make sense and isn't fun to play with. 

 

If one player wants to man a 2000-meter spaceship, I say let them. There are infinite justifications for the slack being picked up - an NPC crew, or a special kind of A.I. technology that handles parts of flight automatically, or fusing into the bridge of your own ship with mechu-deru and interfacing it with your brain. 

 

We should give people the tools they need to tell interesting stories, not take tools away for fear of what someone might do. 

 

taking this opportunity to again plug lifting the restriction on Gree, Rakata, and Kwa technology




#1855508 Change the Ship Size restrictions for Individuals and Companies

Posted by Karon on 05 September 2018 - 07:45 AM

I'm supportive of continuing this trend of relaxing restrictions - we saw that doing this with Master rank had very few negative consequences. Ultimately, granular mechanical ship size matters very little when it comes down to how much punch a ship packs in actual combat, and I feel like it would be completely good to soften the focus on nitty-gritty mathematics. 




#1854912 [TSE] We've Got To Have Money

Posted by Karon on 04 September 2018 - 01:45 AM

As Darth Maliphant asked, Vesper replied - quite cheerily, feeling very much in his element, which is to say, in control. "Better than well, Mal. To have the Emperor notice you and have that not end with you strapped to a table begging for death usually means that things are moving along just swimmingly." Then, as it happened, the memory of his brief interview with the Saraaishash also sprang to mind. "I'd love to catch up with you again over an opera, perhaps - that Immemorial Hall is finally opening is a blessing in these stressful, stressful times. One brief word though - whoever you have sweeping Harper's Respite for bugs, fire. Violently, if you can. I imagine you value your privacy as much as I do, but someone clearly doesn't." 

 

Then, as the others arrived, he surveyed them with curious eyes. Suited, of regal bearing, of authoritative demeanor - sharks, ready to make deals and kill. Leave it to the Sith to produce people who were as proficient in the boardroom as on the battlefield. He steepled his fingers in front of him on the table, golden eyes moving from one to another searchingly. 

 

Internally, he was amused by Maliphant's barbs - he sent a pulse of thought his way to make that much clear - but clicked his tongue with tut-tutting disapproval externally. "Now, now friend - is that any way to treat our helpers?"

 

"Sir Vaulkhar Zambrano, a pleasure to make your acquaintance in the flesh. And Mythos, it pleases me to see that rumors of your death were greatly exaggerated."

 

He gestured to the table, flicking his wrist, and a holographic display sprung into being. "We'll have to begin the briefing without Vereshin or Nixia Amabilia, and hope that they arrive later. The long and short of it is, this mission is about personnel recruitment; we want the best and brightest of the Muuns to be willing to work directly under Imperial authority. The Empire enjoys a firm grip on Muunilinst going as far back as to when we called ourselves The Ascendancy, but anti-Imperial sentiment is not new. Back when the original negotiations were going on, we were... sabotaged."

 

Footage played of Mandalorian Force Hunters, killers for hire, bursting into a board room as a Sith negotiated with a few Muuns, filling it with smoke and blaster fire. As the battle raged, a blaster bolt rebounded into whatever camera was recording it, filling it with static. 

 

"We prevailed, but there are still those who chafe at the idea of Sith dominance. Strongly. The fact that our control of Muunilinst was asserted in conjunction with a military blockade of Mygeeto compounds this. If we simply intimidate the Muuns into giving up their talented specialists, we could see these sentiments inflame. I wouldn't expect a full resistance, but I would expect a large waste of time and money to rear its head." 

 

"We need to instead do as the Muuns would and pose a better offer. Convince them that it would help their planet to join the Empire's larger commercial effort... and that it would help their careers."

 

The display changed, a docket of faces with names floating beneath each one.

 

"These individuals are, per my research, consistently not being promoted in spite of more than adequate talent. Doubtlessly, these are people being sidelined by the powers that be. Potential threats to their success and influence, nipped in the bud. Alternatively, some of them are just viciously unethical in a way that we're more likely to tolerate than the Muuns - no need to worry about our crew being blackmailed if they fear what we could do more than what someone else could reveal." 

 

"The current plan of action is to target these individuals, and have them bring what infrastructure they can with them to a new and centralized seat of Imperial economic power being built on Commenor - a vital trade world now fallen to our control."

 

"Your thoughts, gentlemen?"




#1854906 The Grip of Echoes

Posted by Karon on 04 September 2018 - 01:17 AM

Vesper's lip curled briefly, and the voices of the planet - if the planet it truly was - whispering, whispering in his ear told him to hurt this man before him. This wretch, who was so bold as to dare to point his petty weapon at him, who presumed that he of all people could make demands of him and threaten him, the susurrance of the city told him to humiliate him, to lash out, to teach him the limits of what could be inflicted and what could be endured, and leave his prey twitching but alive on the pavement, helpless in anticipation of a lifetime of nightmares that he might one day take his vengeance in full - 

 

And the Sith breathed. Running a hand through his silver hair and regarding Derriphan through the gap between two fingers, Vesper considered how wrong this all was. That this planet was suddenly exerting a sinister will, rather than its usual aimless despair. That the city, empty, had somehow subtly been reconfigured without the notice of those involved, the moment their eyes had turned away, as though something had been waiting. That the two travelers would stumblŠµ across one another, as though by coincidence, on all the vastness of such a massive planet.

 

It had his fingerprints all over it. He could see it even now, stretching out from that one wasteland wandered - a hair-thin thread attached to a clawed, armored finger, the smirking creature lying in wait in the shadows, as though asking him "What are you going to do now, cripple?"

 

I'm going to play another round of your game. Same rules. Same battleground, even, if you wish it. Winner take all. 

 

When he raised his voice in reply to the question of the being before him, it was with all the weight of the Force's persuasive power behind him. A pulse of sheer, domineering will, accompanied by a contemptuous gesture with his left hand. "Lower your weapon."

 

"Who am I? Several steps out of your league, for starters. I am... the custodian of Malachor, presently. Someone charged with making sure that these ruins sleep, and stay asleep. So when something wakes up here, it concerns me. Pressingly. Now then, my friend, care for an introduction? The more detailed, of course, the more unpleasantness we can avoid." 




#1854889 Turn Your Back On Mother Nature

Posted by Karon on 04 September 2018 - 12:38 AM

There was something distinctly troubling about this behavior - the way that Darth Maliphant reacted, as though a nerve had been touched. Vesper drew his lips into a half-frown of confusion. "For someone stepping into the role of secretive power-broker, I suggest you then grapple with the implications of trying to seize nothing other than the Imperial capitol for your sphere of influence. There's no way it can be done through wholly legitimate, authority-approved channels. I mean, there are plenty of other lovely planets I can give you, but the kind of position you're contemplating for Bastion would ultimately be nothing more than a favored agent of some Imperial apparatus."

 

"If you're truly loyal to the Empire, you need to recognize the benefit of being able to act fully and immediately on its behalf when you know best for it, my friend." If you're truly loyal to the Empire, something's already gone wrong, though.

 

The Sith Lord furrowed his brow. A picture, however fuzzy, was coming into focus. The Slave had been lashing out - acting up, if he recalled, acting on behalf of rebellions even. Suddenly overcome by amnesia and just so happening to slip into the role of utterly loyal Imperialist? Far from coincidence, as far as he was concerned. Once again, his least favorite tendril of the Emperor's all-consuming will came to mind.

 

"Regardless, so be it. I will do what I can for you on Bastion, and we will collaborate with the Saraaishash for the good of our glorious Empire." He clicked his tongue, setting down his glass on a nearby table. "We've been sparring a bit too much for my tastes, Maliphant. As though we're nothing more than strangers at odds. I would loathe to think it so. Let's move on to something I think we can be more agreeable on."

 

"Let's talk business. My company, LuxArc Biomedicals, has been working on increasing its activity. To that end, I have been seeking productive contracts with other local corporate interests. Out of all possible candidates for such arrangement, I would consider Blackwell the gold standard in terms of such a venture."

 

"Why bicker when we can talk about the killing machines I can help you realize?"




#1853669 The Grip of Echoes

Posted by Karon on 01 September 2018 - 09:19 PM

Derriphan was not the only one with concerns. As his senses crept outwards, Vesper too felt the distinct 'taste' of the darkness the city was embroiled with, the singular flavor of its perversion. The mark on the ruins. It could only be one being - person was hardly a word that applied to the hollow, yawning wellspring of living darkness that laid this latticework. One monster, one perversion, one wound in the fabric of the Force - though in a way, he was another.

 

Darth Abyss

 

He sighed, shaking his head. Part of him had hoped that the specter had been extinguished. He had heard rumors of the figment challenging Darth Carnifex, the Sith Emperor, to a duel. No, that would not have been enough. Abyss was both the spider and the web, he was the symptom and the disease. A hollowness that pervaded. Something that would not die unless pulled out by the roots. And he was doubtlessly waiting to make his play for power. 

 

This time, he would have to move first. Hopping down the precarious, multi-razored tower of garbage he had been balancing on, Vesper found himself a suitable square. Narrowing his eyes and bringing his will to bear, stone moved in a tortured grind against stone, and a simple structure wrenched itself from the low Earth. A throne, unadorned and unmarked. Vesper lay himself in it, cocking his head at an angle, rested against one arm. 

 

He would wait for the object of his interest. Wait, to see who else had answered the silent and sonorous call of Malachor. Who else was touched - no, scarred - by the endless hand. And he would greet Derriphan, when he came, with a few simple words.

 

"Tell me, fellow traveler, what brings you to the corpse of a city?"




#1853582 The Grip of Echoes

Posted by Karon on 01 September 2018 - 06:23 PM

The Prophet's hand is endless. Here, Darth Vesper had learned the bitter taste of loneliness. Deprivation. Defeat. Here, he had laid humiliated and deformed, and when his enemy vanished from the Galaxy and fell from every radar, he had been denied even the closure of revenge. This ruin was more than a ruin. It was an open wound. It was his greatest failure.

 

Of course he would revisit it, often. His anger was his sword. His grief was his shield. Here, he could sharpen them, and armor himself more fully in the power of darkness. He dreamed, in his mind, of the hollow Sith rising from some grave or distant moon, coming for him. What would he meet with? Not the Sith he left dying on the Tainted City's concrete, hauled away by his allies at the last moment, choking on air. He would meet someone with knowledge. With power. With conviction

 

Dressed in the bare minimum - tight-clinging black slacks tucked into boots, his heavy greatcoat open to reveal a simple, sleeveless tunic - the thin, silver-haired Sith closed his eyes and reached out with his emotions. Reached out with his invisible presence to touch the places he knew, the places familiar to him, standing, arms crossed, atop a precarious tower of ruins and rubble, laden with jagged edges, torn metal, broken glass - and at the same time, soaring through the city in spirit. 

 

Here, my fortress once parted the clouds to travel through the air, and here - here it lies now in ruins. Here, during the festivals I once painted murals on the walls of the city with commoners, and here those commoners were massacred by Imperial troops. Here, the foundation was laid. Here, the bombs fell. 

 

Then, a pause. Here, a presence. Here, life, in defiance of all odds. A person. A flicker in the Force. 

 

Vesper cocked an eyebrow. He had assumed, with all reason to, that the Cities were dead. This was unusual - looter? Or something else? His spoke words, and as he did, he whispered out with his will, with the power of the Force, and beckoned. 

 

"Come to me."

 

Derriphan