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Topics - Darshendros

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1
Cantina / Valkorian's True Identity?
« on: 12/11/17, 06:34:42 PM »
This is probably like a year late, but it's been bugging me since Bioware first showed his face. You have to admit, Valkorian's face is WAY TOO detailed to not have been modeled after someone. BUT WHO?

Click here to find out!
Spoiler: show





That's right, folks. Our dear glorious Immortal Emperor is none other than ... The Most Interesting Man in the World.

Mystery solved!

... or is it?


Questions, comments, and likes, and don't forget to subscribe!

2
The Trading Floor / WTB Beskad
« on: 11/29/17, 04:26:39 PM »


I need something to do with my Sith Warriors RP-wise. Now, I do! If anyone gets or has an extra Beskad lying around, I will free you of its burden! Unfortunately, since I'm only on Preferred status, I can only offer up to 350k because F*CK BW'S STUPID PAY2WIN SYSTEM
I'm not giving EA anymore of my money
it's stupid.

Or, you can take pity on me and just give me one as a gift. Your life could depend on it. :darkside:

Hook me up, yo.

Also wanting those Dark Temple Torches for my Stronghold. But I also need a ton of Imp/Sith stuff for my Stronghold, since I lost it all donating it before it was possible to just simply buy it from your collection with guild funds... I will never not be angry about that. >:(

3
Savlen Haen kept the cowl of his hood pulled low as he walked through the streets, wearing a travel worn cloak that concealed his Jedi attire and lightsabers. It wasn't that he was trying to hide the fact that he was a Jedi, especially to the Erinians, who desperately needed their aid in this dark hour. He was keeping himself hidden from the enemy. As much as Savlen wanted to fight at his master's side destroying the big scary thing that was destroying everything, Master Shatari had given him a more important mission: rooting out and disabling a Sith cult's spy network in the city. Since the Inansi Exodus, he had been doing just that. Unfortunately, he was getting nowhere with it, other than some rumors of a seedy cantina in the poorer section of the city.

It was simply known as "The Cantina" and the only people inside were a brother and sister who drank all the booze they were supposed to be selling, and their mentally disturbed best friend, who was in the middle of some kind of rant when Savlen stepped inside.

“All right, look, I’m just going to walk you through it, so pay attention. Okay, look, the pretty lady gets naked, of course, and I help her into the prototype, yes? My hands sort of guiding along her body making sure that it fits properly. Now the dress is starting to look fantastic, you know? And she feels very excited, she feels very sensual, and I feel very sensual about her because she looks so good. And then, you know, we chit-chat a little bit, no big deal but she asks me back to her place. Where did that come from? I accept, you know? And then we chit-chat at her place, it’s no big deal, but eventually she says, ‘Do you want to make love, Charlie?’”

They didn't seem to notice Savlen at the bar until he tapped on it with a credit chit.

"What do you want?" asked the bartender's brother... or was he the actual bartender? He really didn't know if any of them actually worked here.

"Just a beer," Savlen said.

The sister grabbed a cold bottle from under the bar and walked it over to him, swaying her hips and staring at him with sultry eyes, until she saw his face under the hood.

"What's wrong with your face?" she drunkenly asked.

Savlen pulled back his hoods, showing his facial tattoos and stubbed horns. "I'm not from around here," he replied with a smile.

"I didn't know the galaxy had such fiiine looking men," she grinned, leaning over the bar with her elbows. "Nicer too. The Imps don't know how to talk to a lady."

"Imps come to this bar?"

"Sometimes. They're Charlie's friends."

Savlen looked across the bar at the man called "Charlie", who was now talking with the brother about... cannibalism?

"He, uh... seems like an interesting person."

"Fuck him! Let's talk about me," she suddenly said. "I think I could grow to like those horns. You got a name?"

Savlen blinked. "Uh... Savlen, and you are?"

"My friends call me Dee," she replied. "What brings you out to these parts?"

"Oh, just passing through. I was actually hoping I could catch up with your friend Charlie's Imp friends. You know where they stay?"

"No clue. Charlie might know." Dee yelled across the bar, "CHARLIE! Where do those Imp friends of your's stay?"

"What? How should I know?" Charlie yelled back. "Here and there and maybe across the street in that old lady's apartment."

"Thanks," Savlen said with a genuine smile. He set a credit chit on the table. "You never saw me here," he said before turning and leaving the bar.

Dee blinked, staring off into space for a moment before walking back over to join her brother and Charlie on the other side of the bar. Savlen pulled back up his hood and stepped outside, looking at the apartment across the street. It was a small building, three stories, with one entrance and a fire escape ladder in the side alley. It looked pretty run down, maybe even condemned. The windows were all foggy and paint peeled off the walls. He couldn't sense anything through the Force, but he decided he would stick close by to see if any Imps actually did live in the building.

Later in the evening, Savlen followed a pair of men that left from the apartment building and entered The Cantina. He ordered a beer and sat in the corner, keeping to himself but eavesdropping on them. Unfortunately, while their accents clearly depicted them as Imperials, they weren't talking about anything that would pin them as the covert agents he was looking for. It did strike him odd that spies would socialize in a bar, now that he thought about it. Maybe this was a dead end...

In Savlen's momentary lapse of focus, a dark robed figure suddenly sat down across from him, staring at him from behind a mask under a hood. The dark side felt strong in him, sending a shiver up Savlen's spine, but he suppressed any reaction to it. He wasn't quick enough to hide the sudden flash of fear in his eyes, however, which the Sith picked up on immediately.

"Is this your first time in a bar?" the Sith asked, his voice distorted mechanically by the mask.

Savlen blinked, not expecting to have a conversation, of all things. "I've been in plenty of bars before," he lied. The Sith picked up on that as well.

"Let me give you a tip, as it's apparent that you're new to this," the Sith said, "If you're going to go to a bar, it's always better to sit near a crowd. Talk to people. Less conspicuous. Even in a dive like this that no one comes to."

"Why are you telling me this?" Savlen asked.

"I like informing my victims of their tragic mistake before I abduct and torture them. Don't even think about drawing your lightsabers either, Jedi," the Sith said as Savlen began to move his hands from the table. "You'll be dead before you can even light them."

Savlen kept his hands on the table. He was clearly at a disadvantage and didn't think the Sith wouldn't follow through with its threat. "So... What now?"

"You're going to finish your beer and walk out of here."

"You're letting me go?"

The Sith chuckled, "Who said anything about letting you go?"

Kriff!

4
The Trading Floor / WTB Skybreeze Cutter for my space pirate
« on: 12/04/14, 06:42:06 PM »
I bought a hypercrate. Out of 26 crates, 0 Devourers (or anything else I really wanted, for that matter... Fuck you, RNG). I am offering to trade any of the junk I got out of those crates for ONE Plateshadow Devourer. What kind of junk do I have, you ask? I will compile a list soon™, but here's some of what I have:

Robocop guns
Traditional Dance
Starforged Lightsaber and Double-lightsaber
Stalker/Silent Ghost/Nefarious Bandit pieces
Shadow's Pilgrim/Shadow Collector titles
GOLDEN OROBIRD!
Czerka Commuter
That ugly mount that looks like chunks of other mounts welded together.
Purple-Black endurance crystal

Post here or find me in-game on any of my characters (they're listed on the side) if you'd like to make a trade. All of these should be unbound in a couple days.


Scroll to the bottom.

5
Supergalactic Privateering Corporation

We're a legitimate business. Honest!



Do you have a need for adventure? Want to travel through the galaxy robbing galactic hyperlanes trading in illicit legitimate goods to well-paying clients? Are you good with a blaster? If you answered yes to any of these, Supergalactic Privateering Corporation (SPC) is looking for you! Join a motley crew of space pirates law-abiding entrepreneurs and trek through the stars in search of booty and plunder lucrative trade deals with lowlife scum and villains legitimate businesses, governments, and traders alike across the galaxy. There are always crew positions open aboard SPC's Corellian flagship, [redacted], so apply anytime.

To apply for a position in Supergalactic Privateering Corporation, contact Captain Kaimona Oshumv at holo-frequency: [redacted]

Supergalactic Privateering Corporation is located in the heart of Nar Shaddaa at [redacted]. Please contact Captain Oshumv for a tour of the facilities.


OOC fluff

This is obviously a front for space pirate operations, if that wasn't obvious enough already. If you want to delve into some shady space pirate RP, this is the guild for you! Anyone can join (on Empire side)! Requirements for joining are: You can form a complete sentence and are at least semi-intelligent.

Kaimona's Smuggler's Haven (NS personal stronghold) is serving as a quasi-guild stronghold and is open to the public on both factions. Once we build up enough membership, we'll probably have an event or two... or just show up to Kwenn and terrorize people. Who knows!

This guild has no affiliation with The Tenebrous Gospel.

Captain: Kaimona
First Mate: Arfinas
Lieutenants: Procellam, ...

GuildNet page is in progress. Post here if you are expressing interest in joining or whisper one of the above names in-game.

JOIN THE FIGHT! NEVER SAY DIE!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvA3Am2xONw

6
Holocrons and Info Nodes / Tales From the Dark Side
« on: 10/12/14, 11:55:41 PM »
Conscription

Private Monz sighed with boredom as he sat at one of the monitoring stations aboard the space station orbiting the planet Wutan, a backwater in the Outer Rim that no one really paid attention to, except the cartels that operated in the system. He had joined the space marines to fight his homeworld's enemies, not sit on a space station and watch blips on the radar. Not that there ever were any. The station wasn't even fully manned, running on a skeleton crew while the officers got drunk in the cantina on the promenade. Wutan's enemies had long ago been vanquished. The most they had to worry about were space pirates, and even they didn't come out this far.

But something did.

Monz leaned back in his chair, propping one foot up on the terminal, and lighted a deathstick. As he took a sweet drag and filled his lungs with acrid smoke, he nearly fell over as his terminal sounded with an alarm. Unidentified ships entering the system. He gasped and coughed out the smoke, snuffing the deathstick out and righting himself on his chair, looking down at the terminal. Three blips were shown. Three ships. He reached over to the comm terminal to alert his shift commander, but just as he was about to make the call, the blips vanished.

"Huh?" Monz blinked, looking again. Nothing. He hit the terminal with his fist. "Stupid machine! Must be glitching out again."

* * *

"Cloaking device active and maintaining power, sir. They do not see any of our ships."

Moff Lannist stood on the command deck on the bridge aboard The Emperor's Wrath, his gloved hands folded behind his back, looking out of the main viewport at the planet Wutan. "What about when we exited hyperspace?" he asked.

"If they did," replied the bridge officer that addressed him, "it would have appeared as a technical glitch. Not enough time to respond."

"In any case, put fighter squadrons on standby until we make orbit. Remember, we are not supposed to be here," Lannist said.

"Yes, sir."

Lannist walked over to the holoterminal. Darth Magius appeared, sitting in his meditation pod. "My lord, we have arrived."

"Yes, I know," the dark lord replied. "Ready my shuttle for departure."

"As you wish, Lord Magius." Lannist bowed.

The Harrower flagship of the Tenebrous Gospel, The Emperor's Wrath, was flanked by two Terminus destroyers, also cloaked. Remaining undetected, they orbited around Wutan on the opposite side of the planet from the space station. An unmarked shuttle departed from the bottom hangar and entered the planet's atmosphere. Wutan was a temperate planet, much like Dromund Kaas but slightly hotter, with forests, mountains, deserts, oceans, rivers; everything a planet habitable to humanoid species needs. It was also an isolated, neutral planet orbiting a tiny star too far out in the outer rim to serve any tactical or strategic value. It wasn't even marked on most star charts. Wutan was a planet where people went to hide or purchase goods they wouldn't be able to purchase without it going on anyone's database. Their main export: slaves. More specifically, gladiators.

Like the Mandalorians, the Wutang were a warrior race divided into faction tribes. They looked nearly human, except for their pointed teeth and clawed hands. They took pride in feats of strength, marking their achievements with ceremonial tattoos and piercings, and settled any disputes they had in gladiatorial rings, often to the death. Unlike the Mandalorians, however, they never expanded beyond their own system, other than to fight their enemies on the neighboring planet, but that war ended a century ago. When they started making bargains with the Exchange and Hutt cartels, selling slaves for profit, they no longer saw any need to pursue expansion beyond raiding neighboring planets for loot and prisoners. Occasionally, they also made underground deals with the Sith Empire.

The shuttle landed in a clearing near a small forest. A group of riders mounted on lizards rode up to greet it, standard bearers at the front of the pack holding black and yellow banners depicting the insignia of one of the Wutang clans. A pair of Imperial troops exited the shuttle before Darth Magius and a protocol droid, flanking him as he walked down the shuttle's ramp. The clan's leader, riding at the front and center, dismounted his lizard along with two of his own guards, and walked up to greet the Sith Lord in kind. They stopped within ten meters of each other.

"The great and powerful Darth Magius of the Sith Empire, Sith Lord and dark master of the Emperor's most esteemed cult, the Tenebrous Gospel, bids you greeting and thanks you for inviting him to gaze upon your beautiful planet," the droid greeted in the Wutang language.

The clan's leader nodded his head, acknowledging, and then spoke in return. The droid translated.

"I am called Jhisza, chieftain of the Bronks. I bid you welcome, dark lord, and look forward to demonstrate the strength of my warriors to you. My warriors are the strongest of the Wutang, trained in the thirty-six chambers, and have known no opponent that they could not defeat in combat."

"We'll see about that," Magius replied. He gestured forward. "Lead on."

"My master looks forward to your demonstration and wishes to see their prowess," the droid said.

Jhisza provided lizard mounts for Magius and his men, securing the droid onto the back of one, and led them back to their village deep in the woods. Village was putting it lightly, as Magius soon realized. It was a fortress, with walls twenty meters high and manned watchtowers, brick buildings and smoothed, dirt roads. At the center was a large tower that stretched beyond the forest canopy, perhaps the most fortified building within the walls. It was surrounded by what looked like a military garrison, soldiers training, forging weapons, fighting in the pits.

Vibroswords and bowcasters seemed to be the most common weapons among the warriors, though Magius would guess he would find other similar weaponry among them if he spent enough time here. Nothing more advanced than that however. If the Empire ever decided to claim this planet for whatever reason, no matter how great their warriors, they would fall.

They came up to the stables, where they dismounted and tied their lizard mounts, and then went to the main fighting pit. Jhisza had assembled his clan's finest warriors to participate in a tournament for the Sith Lord. Magius was eager to see if the chieftain's words rang true. He stood beside the chieftain as he addressed his warriors from the raised platform where he sat to overlook the fights. The droid translated quietly to the dark lord.

"Warriors of the Bronks, today you fight for the chance to serve a powerful lord from the Empire! Fight as you would your enemy, for only one of you will be awarded this great honor. Begin the first match!"

* * *

The audience roared and cheered as the last two combatants circled each other in the pit, slashing and jabbing at each other, their blades ringing with each clash. After fourteen fights, these two remained, but neither were exhausted, and despite the minor wounds they both received from their earlier matches, their strength held true. Despite all that, Magius was bored. He had hoped that perhaps he would be able to find a Force-sensitive among them, but with each match, he realized there were none. Impressive warriors, to say the least, but nothing he could use that he couldn't hire a Mandalorian for. Then again, he didn't come here to hire anyone.

The crowd's cheers rose as the finishing blow was struck and one of the warrior's heads rolled across the ground. He rose his weapons to the air, turning to face the chieftain and the Sith. Magius took a step forward as Jhisza was about to congratulate the winner.

"Droid, tell the chieftain that I will fight him next."

"Master, is that wise?" the droid questioned.

"Do as I command or I will sell you for parts on our way back to Dromund Kaas," Magius said in a flat, calm tone. The two Imperial troops behind them chuckled in their helmets.

The droid yelped and complied. "M-my master wishes to fight against the winner, most honorable chieftain."

Jhisza laughed and slapped his thigh, standing up. The crowd quieted down long enough for him to say some words, followed by more cheering. The warrior in the pit lowered his weapons and looked up at Magius with a fanged grin. Good, he still wants more.

"Chieftain Jhisza says that he would be honored to see you fight his greatest warrior and wishes you luck," the droid said.

"Of course he would." Magius jumped down into the pit, bloodlust in his eyes.

The chieftain shouted something and the warrior charged toward Magius. The Sith's lightsaber flashed to his hand almost instantly, blazing on with its fiery red blade, and went into a sudden flurry of multiple slashes and slices that stopped the warrior in his tracks. He screamed as his body suddenly flew apart in pieces, cloth and tissue still burning bright orange from the wounds inflicted by Magius' lightsaber. The crowd was silent.

Jhisza shot up from his seat and shouted something, the tone of his voice indicating that he was angry, offended, shocked.

"Chieftain Jhisza says that you fought with dishonor, using a sorcerous weapon," the droid translated. "He says you will be executed for your actions."

It was Magius' turn to laugh. "It is true, your warriors are impressive, but they are no match for a Sith. Emperor knows, I doubt they'd be able to kill Mandalorians. You will all serve me, but not as warriors. You will be my slaves. Translate, droid."

"U-uh, yes master." The droid complied and translated what Magius just proclaimed. It seemed to make the chieftain only angrier. He shouted again and several warriors in the audience jumped down into the pit, drawing their blades.

Magius' response was swift and deadly. The dust stirred around his feet, disturbed by a sudden shockwave of energy emitting from him. He sheathed his lightsaber and curled his hands into fists, raising them. Opening his hands, he unleashed a sudden storm of Force Lightning all around him, striking everyone and everything. The crowd panicked, screaming as they tried to get away as those around them began suddenly dropping dead at their feet. The warriors in the pit scrambled to avoid bolts of lightning raining down upon them, but in the end, they too fell to the ground. The chieftain watched, unbelieving what he was witnessing. Such power.

The front gates to the fortress village suddenly exploded into splinters and shards. Out of the smoke came a hovertank, flanked by a platoon of Imperial troops. Around the smoking fighting pit, more red lightsabers suddenly flashed on as Sith acolytes revealed themselves. Jhisza, deliberately the sole survivor, was surrounded.

"Your people belong to the Emperor now," Magius stated as he rose back up to the chieftain's platform, floating in the air.

Where there has been one shuttle in the clearing outside of the forest, there were now four. The additional three were clearly marked Imperial shuttles, guarded by troops. The Wutang were herded onto the Imperial shuttles while Magius boarded the unmarked one he had taken down to the surface, returning to The Emperor's Wrath. Jhisza had been bound and taken with him. He would be needed to keep the new slaves in line.

Magius got on the holocom. "Moff Lannist."

"Yes, my lord?" Lannist replied.

"As soon as the slaves are on board, burn everything. Leave no trace of our being here."

"Yes, my lord."

The Wutang's last memory of their village would be seeing it go up in flames.

* * *

"There is it again, but now there's only two!" Private Monz exclaimed to his commander.

"What the?" Commander Ricci hailed the unidentified ships from the terminal. "Unidentified vessels, you are in Wutang space. Identify yourselves and your intention of being here."

They were answered by a hail of turbolaser fire from the Terminus destroyers, destroying their shield generators and communications array. A squadron of Imperial starfighters and bombers descended upon the space station, destroying laser cannons and any fighters that managed to leave the station, and then the freighters. Ina matter of moments, the station was completely destroyed.

The Wrath stayed in orbit while the destroyers sent shuttles down to the planet's surface, raiding resources and capturing more Wutang to make into slaves. All but the warriors were taken, who were instead killed by the troops as their villages were easily overtaken.

The Wutang were kept in holding cells below decks on both of the destroyers, while the surviving chieftains of the Wutang clans were brought aboard the Wrath. Their images were broadcast to the prisoners on both ships, their chieftains bound and on their knees with Imperial blaster rifles aimed at their backs.

"Your lives on this little planet are over," stated the protocol droid's voice over the comms, speaking in Wutang. "You belong to the Empire now. Serve us and you will be rewarded with a pleasant, easy life, free of pain and suffering. Defy us and you will suffer the same fate as your chieftains."

The chieftains, Rhisza, Jhisza, Dameth, Raekon, and the one known in their tongue simply as, The Old Bastard, were executed with one shot to the back of the head all at once.

"Long live the Divine Emperor."

After the planet was thoroughly bombarded to erase any evidence of Imperial involvement, scraps and pieces of salvaged destroyed ships bearing the markings of the Exchange and some Hutt cartels were jettisoned before the fleet jumped to hyperspace.

7
Holocrons and Info Nodes / Shadows and Dust
« on: 10/03/14, 11:40:29 PM »
Heavy boots echoed down the corridor along with the sound of armored plates clanking against one another. Imperial crewmen and Sith acolytes aboard The Emperor's Wrath made way for the fearsome Sith known as Gorr, adorned in a red hooded overcoat over a dark suit of armor, as he walked to the door leading to Darth Magius' chambers. The Tenebrous Lord had summoned him for an important assignment, judging from the fact that he requested to meet personally with the Zabrak warrior, rather than brief him on the mission over holo. Gorr entered as soon as he was allowed access, coming within ten feet of the Sith Lord and dropping to a knee.

"I have come as summoned, master," Gorr said, his voice deep and rumbling through the vocoder in his mask.

Magius stood before him, adorned in his armored robes and full face helmet, clawed hands behind his back. He unfolded his hands and activated a holodisplay, showing a planet designated "Ylesia".

"I have received intelligence that a fugitive heretic we have been hunting for some time has been located on this planet in the Outer Rim. I am sending you there with a squad of Imperial soldiers. Your contact is an alien by the name of Yonn-par... a spice trader by trade, but more likely a pirate. Apparently, a deal between them went awry and this is his vengeance. He was promised payment for his information. If it turns out to be true, I'll leave it up to your judgment how you take care of it."

Gorr grinned behind his mask, catching onto the meaning. "I understand, master."

Magius continued. "The heretic's name is Vissara Marr, a fallen Jedi and, regrettably, my former apprentice. She had a change of heart when I sent her on an assignment to assassinate a troublesome Jedi... truthfully, he was barely a Jedi, but that's irrelevant... and has been on the run since. This spice trader claims that she's a pirate now, a member of the crew of The Lusty Lady, a band of pirates that operate in Hutt Space. Find her, execute her, and report to me when you have finished the task."

Gorr rose to his feet. "Your will is my command, master."

"Do not underestimate her, Lord Gorr, and more importantly, do not return until you have her head in your hands."

Gorr bowed to Magius before leaving his chambers, gathering some supplies from his quarters before heading to the hangar. The Imperial squad accompanying him was already waiting for him. They boarded a shuttle and departed, setting course for Ylesia.

"My lord, what is our mission?" asked the squad leader, Sergeant Jeknins.

Gorr repeated the details of the mission Magius had just told him. Search and destroy. It sounded simple enough.

"I will meet the contact in the spaceport's cantina," Gorr said. "I want your men scouting the area. Do not engage if you see anything suspicious, just report back. This is a Hutt planet. Outside Imperial jurisdiction. We're only here for the heretic."

"Understood, my lord."

The men seemed pleased to finally be getting some field time, having been cooped up on the flagship for too long without any action. They double-checked their weapons, gear and rebreathers while in hyperspace, anticipating a fight against space pirates. Gorr sat in the back of the shuttle, quiet, collecting his thoughts. He had never met Vissara, but he knew that Magius had trained fallen Jedi in the Dark Side. If she was any good, she might actually pose a challenge to him.


8
Nar Shaddaa was home to millions of the galaxy's poorest sentients, ruled under the fat thumbs of the Hutt Cartel, the Exchange, or any number of criminal organization that carved out their own territory on Nal Hutta's moon. The Smuggler's Moon was notorious for its lawlessness, but its people seemed to prefer that than living under the uptight laws of the Galactic Republic or the tyranny of the Sith Empire. Even the Hutts didn't have full control, even if they did own most of the moon and the space surrounding it. The strong preyed on the weak and the weak prayed for a hero that could stand up against them. That was the way of life in the Outer Rim.

Rotersand wasn't the hero that Nar Shaddaa wanted. He was the hero Nar Shaddaa needed. A vigilant watchman, a stern protector, a dark knight. Unfortunately, the people that needed him couldn't afford him, and Rotersand doesn't do pro bono work. Last he checked, he wore Mandalorian armor, not Jedi robes. That was the point he was trying to make to the Evocii complaining to him while he was having a beer at cantina on the Promenade. Something about a small time gang kidnapping children in the slums he lived in, likely selling them to slavery.

"Look, I already told you, kid. I don't work for free," Rotersand stated. He had his copper-colored buy'ce on the bar counter, a plasteel mug in his hand. A few patrons nearby glanced his way as the Evocii, a boy that looked no older than fifteen or sixteen, drop to his knees and start begging for his help.

"Please! You're Mandalorian. You are strong! You must help me. I... I can pay you... whatever you want," he pleaded.

Rotersand took a drink from his mug before replying. "Ten thousand credits is my standard rate."

The Evocii paled and lowered his head. "I-I don't have that kind of money... None of us do! We barely have enough to buy our families food each week."

"Ain't my problem, kid. Go find a Jedi or somethin'."

He finally got the point and walked away, head down and shoulders slumped. The other patrons who were watching, probably waiting to see if the poor sap was going to get himself shot, turned their attention back to their own drinks. Rotersand put another credit chit on the counter, asking the bartender droid for a glass of tihaar, when someone came up to the bar and sat in the stool next to him. Judging from the tan hooded robe, he would have guessed a Jedi, but tan robes weren't that uncommon around here. It had too many stains as well and was frayed at the edges, weathered from long use. Jedi usually kept a cleaner appearance, from his experience.

"Filthy creatures, those Evocii. A wonder how that one was even allowed onto the Promenade," said the man underneath the hood. Rotersand could hear his Imperial accent, even if he was trying to disguise it. Poor acting skills.

"Lotta secret passages around here. Live here long enough and you might find a few," the Mandalorian replied before gulping down his tihaar. He grabbed his buy'ce and put it on, making his way to the exit. He noticed the hooded man was following him as he left the cantina. Putting a hand on one of his blaster carbines, Rotersand rounded a corner into an alley and waited for him, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and pushing him up against the wall. He pressed the triple barrel of his blaster up under his chin.

"Ain't very smart to follow a Mandalorian, y'know," Rotersand said through the vocoder in his helmet.

"I didn't want to bring any attention in the cantina," the man gasped, clutching the Mandalorian's wrist. "Please, don't shoot me, I just wanted to talk!"

Rotersand shoved him again before letting him go, but he kept his blaster drawn. "Make it quick."

"I want to hire you for a job," he said as he straightened his robe. "I'm willing to pay you your standard fee, plus a bonus."

Rotersand holstered his blaster, putting his hands on his hips. "Alright, you got my attention. What's the job?"

The man glanced around for a moment before speaking. He had dropped his poorly concealed accent. "My name is Jonas Fennimore. I have reason to believe that my wife is having an affair... with an alien, no less. Our butler, to be exact. I want you to make him... disappear."

Rotersand raises his hand to his visor, shaking his head into his palm. "Let me get this straight... You want to hire a Mandalorian - battle-hardened warrior badasses of the galaxy - to get rid of your butler whom you think your wife is having an affair with? This is a joke, right? I'm being punked."

Jonas seemed offended that the Mandalorian wasn't taking him serious. "I assure you, Mandalorian, that I'm being completely serious."

Rotersand grabbed Jonas by the shoulder and shoved him out of the alley. "Get the fuck out of my face."

"What...? Well, I never...!" the pampered Imperial huffed as he fell to the ground. Rotersand walked away, muttering under his breath. Embarrassed, Jonas pulled the cowl of his hood down low and scampered off to find a more willing thug to hire. Rotersand exited the alley on the other side, catching a cab to the starport where his ship was docked.

A message was waiting for him on his Spacebook page on the Holonet.

URGENT! Space pirates have kidnapped my daughter. €50,000 for her safe return. Help me, Mr. Nukem. You are my only hope. - Count Fernand Thul

"Finally, something worthy of my talents." Rotersand sent a reply and warmed up his ship's engines, setting a course for Alderaan.

9
Holocrons and Info Nodes / Conflict Instigation
« on: 08/17/14, 08:45:07 PM »
The Emperor's Wrath stood in orbit around Kalakar Six, its crew running around, performing maintenance and upgrading security systems. All but one of the Sith crew members were down on the volcanic moon, overlooking the operation of turning the Sith Temple on Kalakar Six into their newest base of operations after the terrorist bombing of their headquarters on Dromund Kaas, which was also being rebuilt. Darth Magius remained aboard the Wrath, plotting how best he was going to deal with the new threats rising up against him and his organization.

The wizened Sith Lord was sitting behind his desk, deep in thought, when a call came for him over the Holonet, using an encrypted Sith frequency. He transferred the call to the holotransmitter in the floor in front of his desk, activating and displaying the holo-image of a dark hooded figure in a nondescript robe, its features completely hidden under the fabric, its face hidden beneath the hood. Magius rose from his seat, not recognizing the caller and immediately suspicious of the nature of the transmission, since the encrypted frequency used was known only by a small number of Sith Lords, none of whom were on the Dark Council.

"Identify yourself," Magius said sternly, "How did you get this frequency?"

"You are summoned," replied a dry, raspy voice.

"I am a lord of the Sith! No one summons me but the Emperor, and you are definitely not him. Identify yourself and tell me how you got this frequency or I will force the answers out of you!"

"You are summoned," the voice repeated. The hooded figure raised an arm. Magius caught a glimpse of a bone-thin hand peeking out from under the sleeve before it went off camera. A set of coordinates were uploaded to his computer. The hooded figure suddenly vanished as the call ended. Magius looked down at his computer, inputting the coordinates to view their location. Something told him they looked familiar, and a moment later he knew why.

"Malachor...? But there's nothing there anymore. This must be a trap..." Magius mused to himself as he paced around his office. "Ah, but you're going to go anyway, aren't you? Of course I am... But who would know about Malachor? I hate mysteries."

Magius donned his armored mantle and robes, cloak and clawed gauntlets, and of course, his lightsaber. He left a brief notice with his secretary droid in case anyone asked about his whereabouts, simply stating, "Gone fishing. Be back soon." He boarded his Fury-class Interceptor, Draconis, and departed from the Wrath's starboard hangar. With the coordinates inputted into his navicomputer, he jumped to light speed and headed for the Malachor system and what remained of Malachor V.

Magius sat in the cockpit, replaying the message he had received. He always recorded his calls, just in case he could use any of the information for blackmail, otherwise deleting the data later (a precautionary tactic to avoid any scandals, because why would you keep all of the recordings?!). The robed figure's identity still eluded him though.

"Who are you?" he murmured to himself.

"Did you say something, master?" chimed 2V-R9, his protocol and ship droid, now sporting a glossy red coat of paint over its chassis. It sat at the helm station, piloting the ship.

"Nothing, just thinking aloud. What is our ETA?"

"We will be arriving in the Malachor sector in one hour," the droid replied.

"Alert me when we have arrived," Magius said before getting up to move into the crew cabin.

Draconis came out of hyperspace in the midst of an asteroid and debris field ― the remains of Malachor V and the hundreds of warships that were destroyed centuries ago. Nothing had changed since the planet's complete destruction, nor had anyone ever returned since. Why would they? The area was cursed, they said. Scans picked up no signs of life or activity as Magius' ship drifted further in. Magius was in the cockpit, overlooking the scans himself, the negative results giving him much frustration.

"If this is a prank, they have succeeded only in angering me," he grumbled. But deep down, he knew there was something here, he just couldn't tell what.


((Part 1 of... something. There's more. I promise.))

10
Holocrons and Info Nodes / Red Sand
« on: 05/02/14, 10:21:20 PM »



CHAPTER 1: What do you hear?

The air was hot and arid, a slight breeze stirring the sand but giving little comfort from the oppressive heat of the twin suns overhead. There was little shade to find in Mos Eisley, and what shade there was was already occupied by the street urchins or piled with trash. Few people had what it took to withstand living on Tatooine, and those that did sought what comforts they could from the heat. Mandalorians, on the other hand, had all the comfort they needed contained within their beskar'gam. Rotersand Beroya thanked Kad Ha'rangir for it every time he had to visit Tatooine.

Rotersand came to Tatooine chasing a bounty posted by Nem'ro the Hutt. He had tracked his target, a Cathar smuggler named Maksim, from Nal Hutta and across Hutt Space to Tatooine, where he had found Maksim's ship abandoned in Anchorhead's spaceport. Judging from the overdue parking fees, Rotersand judged that the Cathar had only been on the planet for a couple of weeks, and unless he hopped onto another ship, he was still here. After asking the right questions at some cantinas, he tracked the smuggler to an apartment in Mos Eisley.

He stood outside of the door, taking a moment to glance around and spot out any possibly escape routes, seeing only one possible exit into the alley. He placed a remote charge in the alley and then returned to the apartment door, drawing out his BFB-90 carbine blasters in both hands and kicking in the fragile wooden door, surprising the inhabitants inside. His ocular implant did a quick scan of the occupants, two Twi'lek women and one Cathar male, who was immediately bolting into the back room.

"Mister Maksim, we meet at last," Rotersand said as he entered the apartment, aiming his blasters at the fleeing smuggler and unloading a hail of blaster fire, tearing up the plaster wall with smoldering holes. The Twi'lek women screamed and huddled into a corner.

"A bounty hunter!" one of them gasped.

"Leave me alone! I'm not going back," cried Maksim from the back room. Rotersand heard the distinct sound of a blaster being pulled out from somewhere. He wasn't afraid of what little pee-shooter the smuggler had, and from what his thermal scans were telling him, it was really small. Some smuggler, he thought.

"We can do this the easy or the hard way, pussy cat. You really want the easy way," Rotersand called out, blasters trained on the smuggler, who was hiding just around the corner with his pee-shooter. It would be so simple to blast a hole through him through the wall.

"You don't understand! Nem'ro'll kill me!" Maksim yelled frantically.

"Not if I kill ya' first!" Rotersand replied.

The smuggler suddenly rounded the corner with his blaster pointed at the Mandalorian and fired off a shot, striking Rotersand right in the chestplate but barely making a scratch. Rotersand realized a second later, as his helmet's HUD began flickering, that it was an ion round meant to short out his armor, but he had installed some upgrades to defend against that since his run-in with the Clan Adenn girls. The suit's insulation dispersed the ion energy before it could fry anything, but it afforded the smuggler a moment's time to run out to the back door.

"Hard way it is, then," Rotersand grumbled before pushing a button on the control pad of his right crushgaunt. An instant later, an explosion was heard in the alley, followed by a painful wailing. He walked out back to find the Cathar laying in a heap on the ground in a pool of blood and blackened debris. One of his legs was a torn and bloody mess; the other was missing from the knee down.

"Don't kill my husband!" Rotersand suddenly heard a cry from inside the apartment, before he was jumped by one of the Twi'lek women from behind.

"Agh! Get off!" Rotersand turned and twisted around, trying to shake her off as she beat on his helmet with her fists. He holstered the blaster in his right hand and reached back, grabbing onto something around her neck, and flipped her over his shoulder, throwing her to the ground next to the wounded Cathar. She immediately cradled him in her arms, in tears, trying to comfort him as he continued to writhe in agony. Rotersand looked at what her had torn from her neck - a slave collar.

"Stealin' slaves from a Hutt... ya' shoulda' known better," he said, dropping the ruined collar. He raised the blaster in his left hand, aiming it at Maksim's head. "Get outta the way, unless ya' wanna die with him."

"Please! No!" she cried, using her body to shield him.

Rotersand did another quick scan of Maksim's state. His health was deteriorating fast, bleeding out and going into shock. He was going to die one way or another. "He's already dead, lady. Get outta my way. I won't tell ya' again."

Maksim reached up weakly with his hand to push his wife from him. "Go," he said faintly, "Run... while you still can... and take... your sister."

"Your sister?" Rotersand remembered the other Twi'lek inside the apartment. Too late. He turned around, finding her standing in the doorway with a carbine shotgun in her hands.

"You picked the wrong family to fuck with, Mandalorian," she said before shooting him.

Rotersand flew back into the wall, but his armor saved him. There wasn't much that could punch through beskar in a single shot. The impact knocked the wind out of him though, leaving him stunned. The Twi'leks picked up Maksim, wrapping his arms around their shoulders, and dragged him back inside the apartment, slamming the door shut.

"Haar'chak!" he grunted, shaking his head. He checked his armor for damage. It was only mildly scorched, scratching off some of the paint. Grumbling, Rotersand blasted the apartment door open and stormed inside, pulling out his other blaster again. Another shotgun blast greeted him, but this time he ducked behind the corner.

"We gotta stop the bleeding," he heard Maksim's wife say.

"No time. We have to leave him, Nissa!" her sister replied.

"No! He saved my life, Leena! I will not just leave him for this bounty hunter to claim," Nissa replied, referring to Rotersand with hatred.

"Hey ladies, let's say we cut a deal," Rotersand said. "You run away now and I won't shoot ya' both in yer pretty faces. Nem'ro didn't say nothin' about any slaves. Just the pussy cat."

"Let's go, Nissa!" Leena said, grabbing her arm. Nissa reluctantly let Maksim go, gave one final hated look at Rotersand, and left out through the busted front door with her sister.

Rotersand shook his head and holstered his blasters, walking over to finish off Maksim. He was sitting up against the wall, his fur matted with sweat, breathing hard. His missing leg had been tied off above the thigh to stop the bleeding.

"Thank you... for letting... her go," he gasped.

"Shoulda' picked the easy way," Rotersand said before drawing his blaster in his right hand and shooting the smuggler in the head. Holstering it again, he pulled out his holocommunicator, dialing in Nem'ro's frequency.

"Maksim is dead," he stated plainly as soon as the Hutt's image appeared.

"Woy uba makhaia bu moocha catabola?" Nem'ro asked in Huttese.

"He was shacked up in an empty apartment. Had nothin' on him besides a blaster."

The Hutt groaned, disappointed or angry, it all sounded the same. "Cheespa wamma siana!" Nem'ro said angrily.

"No, you'll pay me in full. The bounty said nothin' 'bout any stolen goods. Just dead or alive. Don't make me come back to Hutta, Nem'ro. You know who I'm associated with."

"Eniki, eniki! Cuane wamma. Dan hotpaka, murishani," Nem'ro replied.

"Pleasure doin' business, as always."

Rotersand put away his holocommunicator and stepped out of the apartment. The womp rats would clean up the body, eventually. He took a speeder taxi back to Anchorhead and boarded his ship, Tal'onidir, at the spaceport, where he found a message waiting for him on the Holonet. It was from one of his contacts at the Mandalorian Enclave on Dromund Kaas.

"Hey hunta'," said a familiar female voice, "Got a contract you might be interested in, and it's right on Tatooine, so ya' don't even have to travel far. I forwarded you the details. You still owe me a drink, big boy. When are ya' coming back to Kaas City?"

"Thanks Crysta," Rotersand said and pulled up the message's attachment. He groaned when he saw the details. "Jedi. I hate Jedi."

He sent a message back to Crysta, reminding her of his fee for hunting Force-users ― double standard pay ― and that he would buy her a drink "soon™". Rotersand checked his gear and downloaded the bounty contract to his neurolink implant before departing his ship.

"At least this one looks pretty," he muttered to himself as he walked through the spaceport.

11
Nar Shaddaa
Duros Sector
2100 Standard Time

Vissara Marr, the female Miraluka Dark Jedi and former apprentice of Darth Magius, lurked in the corner, tracking her target as he entered a pawn shop. Despite the heavy foot traffic along the main street, she remained unseen, cloaked in the shadows of the Force. It was important to keep hidden on the Smuggler's Moon, especially when you knew you were hunted. There were eyes everywhere, especially greedy bounty hunters wanting an easy payoff. Dead or alive, it made no difference; she was on borrowed time. She had fled to Nar Shaddaa after botching an assassination attempt on Alderaan. It wasn't her fault she failed; there were Rakghouls everywhere. Still, failure was not an option. In order to make ends meet, she signed up to take on some local bounties from the Hutt Cartel, using a fake name to avoid being tracked, but Miralukan bounty hunters weren't exactly a common occurrence. It was only a matter of time before either the Jedi or Sith tracked her down.

Her target, a Devaronian male by the name of Jordee, exited the pawn shop. Vissara silently pursued him, hugging the walls and avoiding contact with any people. He must have sensed he was being followed somehow, because he suddenly cut into a small alleyway, quickening his pace. He was only armed with a blaster pistol, she knew. He would be no challenge to her. Jordee glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing. Seeming relieved, he paused to lean against a wall and rest for a moment. That was the moment Vissara chose to strike. Reaching out with the Force, she lifted him off his feet and slammed him back against the wall, and then flung him into the wall across from him, before tossing him to the ground. He scrabbled back on his palms and heels, pulling out his blaster and waving it around wildly. Vissara remained cloaked and he couldn't see her. She pulled out her lightsaber, appearing before him as it flashed to life, swiping across and slicing the barrel off his pistol. Jordee screamed and tried to get up and run away, but Vissara thrust her saber through his back, impaling him.

"Nothing personal. Just business," she said coldly as she snapped off her lightsaber and clipped it back to her belt. She pulled out her holocommunicator to contact her client and report the job finished. Bounty hunting wasn't something she considered worthy of her skills or her time, but a girl had to make money, and the clients were smart enough to not to try cheating a "Jedi" out of her pay.

"The job is done," she stated to the person on the other line, "I'll come by tonight to pick up the credits."

She shut off her communicator and tucked it away, glancing over her shoulder. She felt a disturbance in the Force...

12
Holocrons and Info Nodes / The Resurrection of Lord Omnom
« on: 01/19/14, 02:32:42 AM »
Hangar Bay 6, Emperor's Wrath
RESTRICTED ACCESS

It took the better half of two days to clean up all of the bodies on the decks of the Emperor's Wrath. In total, thirty-six people died from the actions of the invaders, a third of which were acolytes. The bodies of the engineers that had been sucked out into space were never recovered. The Imperials were given proper burial rites, shot off into space or their remains returned to their families, but the bodies of the fallen Sith acolytes were collected in the restricted hangar at the belly of the dreadnaught, along with the remains of the Sithspawn. It took a power loader several hours to move the beast's carcass, which Darth Magius insisted that he did not want sliced into separate pieces for easier transport. What he planned to do with the bodies was anyone's guess, as he removed everyone from the hangar after the bodies were all moved and had the doors sealed. Only the Sith Lord and a couple unlucky acolytes remained inside.

"Place the restraints on the beast," Darth Magius ordered as he began setting up a table with alchemy supplies.

"My lord...? But it's dead," questioned one stupid acolyte.

Magius responded with a Force Backhand slap across the acolyte's face. "I will not repeat myself! Do as you are told," he growled. He was not in the mood.

The acolyte rubbed his cheek and went to help the other acolyte do as they were ordered, moving the heavy durasteel shackles with the Force to clamp them around the dead sithspawn's arms, legs, and neck. They found it slightly difficult to concentrate from the smell and the gaping hole in its belly, but they pulled through, much to their relief. When they were finished, they returned to Magius, who had just finished setting up his table with a couple of tomes and an ancient Sith holocron laid out, a rack of corked vials filled with strange liquids, surgical tools, and other things of mystical nature that they could not even fathom what their use was for. He turned to face them, looking displeased at their proximity to him. He pointed over to the pile of corpses.

"Sort that mess out and have them arranged in even rows," he said.

This time, they acted immediately without questioning. They worked quickly and tirelessly, arranging the bodies of the dead acolytes in two rows, which took them about a half hour to accomplish. When they finished, they stood silently at a distance, heads cast down, not wanting to further displease the disgruntled Dark Lord. Magius looked over their work and nodded to himself, apparently satisfied. He held the Sith holocron in his left hand.

"There is only one more thing I require of you two," he stated.

He began reciting words in the ancient Sith language, channeling dark power through the holocron, melding together sorcery and alchemy that dropped the temperature inside of the hangar to an ominous chill. The acolytes glanced at each other fearfully, not sure what was going to happen. Suddenly, ribbons of darkness swirled around Darth Magius, strips of it flying away from him toward the bodies of the dead acolytes. One of the acolytes took a step back, shaking, afraid. He was about to make a run for it when he suddenly heard a sound behind him. Turning his head, he screamed as he looked into the dead eyes of one of the acolytes he had just moved from the pile of corpses earlier. It grabbed him by the shoulders and sunk its teeth into his neck, dragging him to the ground as it ripped his throat out. The other acolyte watched, paralyzed with fear for a moment until finally realizing what was going on. He sprinted to the hangar doors, but they were sealed shut. Trapped, he banged on the thick doors, crying for help. Another corpse rose up from the floor and came after him. The acolyte turned and fought it off as it grabbed for him, but then another crept up and grabbed him from behind, and yet another dragged him down to the floor, where they piled on top of him. They began tearing into his flesh, ripping open his abdomen and yanking out his innards, feasting hungrily on the warm, living flesh.

Darth Magius stood by as this all happened, continuing to channel the dark power that reanimated the corpses of the dead acolytes, binding them to his will through the dark side of the Force. They would obey him so long as he possessed the power to hold control over them. When they finished tearing apart the two acolytes that had assisted him, he watched their bodies rise back to life, joining the undead horde. Through his will, he commanded them to stand together on one side of the hangar, opposite of the where the dead sithspawn was shackled. He turned his power next upon the beast, reciting the same dark words that brought the dead acolytes back to life. He knew it would be more difficult working the ritual on a sithspawn, which were Force-resistant creatures in life, but he wasn't sure if that still held true once they were dead. It turned out it didn't. The beast suddenly stirred to life, its limbs pulling against its restraints, making a hoarse sound that might have been a roar.

Magius raised a hand and levitated into the air, putting himself at a safe distance from the floor and the monster before using the Force to unbind the creature from its shackles. He dominated its mind and ordered it to attack the undead acolytes, and the acolytes to attack the undead sithspawn. The sithspawn charged into them, crushing two under its thick feet and swiping one away with a large claw. It grabbed another and clamped its jaws around its waist, biting it in half, which simply fell out of the hole in its gut after swallowing. The acolytes were not defenseless, however. They surrounded the sithspawn, scratching and biting at it, climbing up its back to find a more vulnerable spot to attack. The beast shook them off and grabbed an acolyte, using it as a club to smash another acolyte before slamming it to the ground and crushing its head. Even broken, the undead acolytes continued to attack, crawling across the floor to get back at the beast. Magius observed that only the ones whom had their heads crushed no longer moved.

The undead acolytes were doing considerable damage to the sithspawn, but their small numbers quickly dwindled under the monster's ferocity. After mere moments, all that remained of them were smears on the floor, with a few still moving limbs crawling around blindly here and there. Magius floated back down to the floor and put the sithspawn back into its restraints, pleased to find it much more manageable in its dominated, undead state. If only the rest of his minions were so easy to control. He called in some droids to sweep up the mess, making sure to instruct them to incinerate the remains instead of just dumping them into the waste compactor. After securing all of his alchemy supplies, tomes, vials, and holocron, he lastly placed the undead sithspawn back into its container, which again proved to be much easier than it had been when it was alive. He gave the creature one last look over before sealing the container. Its flesh was not healing, which he expected. He wondered what extent of damage the creature would be able to withstand before it could no longer move. Perhaps there was a way to regenerate its dead tissue through the dark side of the Force. He needed to know these things before he could move on to displaying this power against his enemies. What he did know was that he was going to need more corpses to experiment on.

As Darth Magius left the hangar sealed shut behind him a few hours later, nobody pretended to notice that two more acolytes were missing. He returned to his quarters, putting away his alchemy kit, and began browsing the holonet, looking for planets with intense combat activity. Balmorra had too many Imperials. Ord Mantell too many Republics. Taris was already a graveyard, but crawling over with both Imperial and Republic activity. Rakghouls were practically zombies already anyway. He expanded his search to outer rim planets.

"Hoth," Magius pondered to himself as he viewed a report on the planet's activity. "Nobody would care about a few missing scavengers, especially in those harsh conditions." Closing out the report, he began to plan his next step.

13
Storyboards / Aftermath (Post-Ambush, Imp Side)
« on: 01/09/14, 11:40:17 PM »
((This takes places immediately after the events in Ambush, so if you participated in it on the Imperial side, feel free to contribute! I believe Urso made one for the Pub side already. Also, Karmic, feel free to post that thing we talked about on here too.))

AFTERMATH

 :darkside:

Half an hour after Dhax, Etirza, Cirsei and Nagashi escaped the Emperor's Wrath . . .

"This is all going according to plan," Darth Magius stated as he paced around his office, sipping from a stemmed glass filled with vintage red wine from Alderaan. He stared out of the view port as starfighters zipped around, practicing maneuvers and attack patterns, all part of a pre-arranged "training exercise" to cover the real reason one of his officers requested additional warships in the system. Although they were unseen, Magius had tracked the two cloaked starfighters escaping. He could have ordered his own starfighters to pursue, but he didn't. He wanted them to escape.

He turned to face the holoprojector next to his desk, glowing with the image of an Imperial officer. Captain Lannist was aboard the XoXaan and had recorded all that had happened, officially and unofficially. Darth Magius had allowed him in on his plans of framing the recent attack on the Emperor's Wrath as a Republic attack.

"It should be quite easy to spin this and make it appear as a clear act of aggression, my lord. I have already forwarded my reports to Imperial Intelligence. I am sure they would be very interested in regards to their lost Cipher Agent," Lannist said.

"Good. You are free to end this mummery whenever you feel like, captain. Kilran is eager to get his ships back. You may tell him whatever you wish besides the truth."

Lannist bowed his head. "Very good, my lord. XoXaan out."

Magius set his wine glass down as he took a seat behind his desk, reviewing the surveillance footage of the battle between Nagashi, Kastal, and Lexicanus. He stopped it near the end, looking at Kastal kneeling over the near-dead Nagashi. He was eager to hear how she was going to explain her actions. Resuming the footage, he watched Nagashi get up and flee, just as the Sithspawn barged into the room and charged at Kastal, swooping her up in its claw and swallowing her before chasing after Nagashi, only to suddenly stop, and a moment later, its belly exploding with Kastal emerging. That's going to take weeks to clean up...

The failed rescue attempt had revealed several critical facts and faults to Darth Magius, which he was going to have to address before they moved on from this. Kastal would be the first of many. Don't even mention how long his ship will need to be docked for repairs.

14
Holocrons and Info Nodes / Vissara: Vendetta
« on: 12/28/13, 11:28:04 PM »
Part I: Plight of the Osirus

Sparks flew from the control console as warning lights flashed, bellowing an alarm. Vissara Marr cursed as she gripped her ship's controls, using maneuvering thrusters to keep it from getting snagged in Tython's gravity. The sabotaged engines had been blown out as soon as her stolen Defender-class corvette came out of hyperspace, but the Dark Jedi managed to bring it to a halt safely in Tython's orbit. Vissara sighed with relief and renewed her vow to murder Nagashi for all of this.

"Ceetoo, I'm going to have to deactivate you now," she said as she rose out of her chair and approached the protocol droid.

"I hope that I have been of exemplary service to you, mistress," the droid responded.

"You just have one final service to provide for me, droid." Vissara deactivated the C2 unit and wiped its memory bank. She didn't want whoever found her out here to know anything about her.

After storing the droid inside of a supply closet, she put out a general distress call to the nearby space station. It didn't take long for a ship to arrive from the station, answering the call. It was a small, red freighter vessel, common among spacers, but lacking in any serious firepower. On the hull was painted the word, Osirus. It would do.

"This is Captain Sven of the Osirus. We received your distress call. Do you need any help? Our sensors show your engines are offline. Hello? Is anyone there? This is Captain Sven of the Osirus..."

Vissara cloaked herself in the Force and hid while the hails from the Osirus went unanswered. The ship docked with her vessel, extending an umbilical to the airlock. Two crew members in full space suits came aboard to investigate why the hails weren't being answered, looking around for any signs of trouble, or worse, corpses. Vissara slipped through the open airlock hatch, boarding the other ship. The only person left aboard was the helmsman, a young male human probably in his early-20's, which she quickly took care of by snapping his neck. Pushing his body out of the pilot's chair, she retracted the umbilical and turned the ship away, leaving the two aboard her former ship completely stranded. Setting in coordinates in the navicomputer, she engaged the hyperdrive and went into light speed.

On her way to Tython, Vissara has pulled up what information she could find on Nagashi off the Holonet. She knew where he lived, about his pregnant wife, his achievements as a Jedi until his self-exile. She was going to get revenge and redeem herself to her master. First, she needed to find or build a new lightsaber, but she knew she wouldn't be able to go to any of the usual places to get what she needed without arousing suspicion. By now, the Jedi should be aware of her current status, unless no one had bothered to report her. She wondered how Master Satele reacted to the news. She certainly couldn't go to Korriban. In the eyes of the Empire, she was still considered a Jedi. The enemy. That left only one place to go where she could remain unseen.

The ship made a slight jolt as it came out of hyperspace on approach to Nar Shaddaa, touching down on a vacant landing pad in one of the lower sectors. No one around would see the Miraluka exit the ship, even though the landing ramp had been lowered. Vissara had once heard rumors of a smuggler that sold crystals here, but the other parts she would have to find or manufacture herself. They didn't call Nar Shaddaa the "Smuggler's Moon" for nothing though, and she wasn't above picking some pockets either for a few needed credits. Nothing came for free.

The Red Light District was a haven for tech-heads, spice junkies, and anyone looking for a good time for a price to escape to, all perfectly and legally illegal on Nar Shaddaa as long as the Cartels got a cut of the profits. It was where she heard that the smuggler sold their wares. The Force emanations from the crystals made finding the shop easy with her Force Sight, tucked away in a little corner down a side street. Crystals of all of the common colors were on display in the window -- blue, green, red, even purple -- as well as a rare white crystal in a special display with a marked up price, but she recognized it as a counterfeit from its lack of energy.

A male Devaronian in a black-and-white striped fur coat greeted her as she entered the shop. "Welcome to Max's Crystal Emporium! What can I do for you, Master Jedi?"

The interior was a small space with racks along the walls displaying more crystals, small and big, real and fake, of various colors, along with several small holo-projectors with floating, rotating holo-images of different lightsaber casings, though there were no actual ones on display. Vissara offered the Devaronian a gentle smile from under her veil and pointed to a red crystal.

"Oh!" the shopkeeper balked, realizing his mistake. "My lord... er, lady! ... Did I say Jedi? I really meant to say Sith! Yes, yes. I have plenty of red crystals to offer, for your viewing pleasure, my lord." He pulled at his collar nervously, thinking, Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me.

Vissara was amused by Max's sudden nervousness all due to the color crystal she pointed to. "Shut up and show me your crystals. I do not have all day."

Max went behind the counter and brought out a large case, setting it on the counter and opening it, revealing red crystals of all sizes. Some radiated a stronger Force signature than others and were obviously more expensive. Vissara wondered if the Devaronian was Force-sensitive to be able to tell the difference.

"These are the finest crystals harvested from the crystal caverns of Dantooine!" Max was saying while Vissara looked over the wares, "You'd have to go to Dromund Kaas to find anything better. They are all precision cut to fit snug inside any lightsaber. Is there one you are specifically interested in, my lord?"

Vissara had an idea of how she was going to construct her new lightsaber. She looked at a pair of red crystals with matching auras, indicating that they were more of less the same strength. She pointed at them. "These two," she said. Max removed them from the case and set them aside. "An excellent choice, my lord. These two came from the same crystal cluster, so they would provide an equal power output. Are you interested in anything else, my lord?"

"I need some parts," she replied, taking a datapad from a belt pouch and handing it to Max. It contained a shopping list of lightsaber construction parts. Max looked it over for a minute. "I have some focusing crystals too, but I'm afraid I don't have any of these other parts. Are you building a new lightsaber? Plenty of shops around here that might carry some of these." He handed the datapad back to her.

"Show me your focus crystals, then."

* * *

Vissara spent the better half of the day and the next tracking down all of the parts she needed, bartering or selling what supplies were on the stolen freighter when thievery or Mind Tricks failed to work. She would have sold the ship too if she didn't need it to get to her next destination. She also needed a private place to assemble her new lightsaber, of which Nar Shaddaa severely lacked. Back aboard the Osirus, Vissara set about her task, spreading all of the parts across a worktable in the cargo bay and remembering which part connected to what, soldering some wires, screwing pieces into place, and carefully placing the primary and focus crystals in their housings. Rather than making a single double-bladed lightsaber, like her old one had been, she made two one-handed lightsabers instead, which she could lock together at the ends to form a double-bladed one. The process took longer, but once everything was assembled and tested to work properly, she had a weapon far more deadly than her old one had been. She held it with both hands and inspected her craftsmanship and then ignited the blades and took a few practice swings. Suddenly, she heard someone pounding on the airlock door.

"We know you're in there, thief! Gimme back my ship and I won't kill you and dump your body into the sewers for the rats to eat!"

Looks like I won't have to go far to test my new lightsaber. Vissara grinned to herself, grabbing her lightsaber and cloaking herself. She unlocked the door.

15
Holocrons and Info Nodes / Reunion
« on: 11/29/13, 01:57:00 AM »
Part I

Unknown Regions

"Statement: We have arrived at the coordinates, master," stated Darth Magius' assassin droid. It was piloting his ship, the Fury-class Interceptor, Talon.

The Sith Lord sat in the Captain's Chair in the middle of the cockpit, looking out through the framed, shielded window at an asteroid field before them. 2V-R9 sat below him to the right, monitoring the sensors. To his left, at the helm, was HK-51.

"Anything on sensors?" Magius asked.

"Asteroids and... more asteroids, master," 2V-R9 responded.

"Good. Take us in, 51."

The ship suddenly jolted as it started moving toward the asteroid field. "What was that?"

"Master, a vessel has dropped out of hyperspace and is firing on this ship. Defender-class light corvette registered to the Republic. It is closing on us fast. I would suggest we take evasive action."

Magius didn't need a droid to tell him what to do. "Take evasive action, Pattern Grek!"

The Fury-class interceptor went headlong into the asteroid field, swerving around the colossal rocks to evade the rapid laser fire coming from the Defender, rotating their own cannons astern to return fire, blasting large holes into the surfaces of asteroids they zipped past. The Republic ship was keeping pace with them, however, and soon an alarm went off on one of the Fury's consoles indicating a homing missile had been locked onto Magius' ship.

"Deploy chaff flares," Magius calmly ordered, "And open a channel to that ship."

"Republic vessel, this is Darth Magius of the Sith Empire. You are in clear violation of the terms of the Treaty of Coruscant. Cease your attack and identify yourself at once. Respond."

"Peace is a lie... Isn't that what you Sith say?" a familiar female voice replied a moment later.

Their ships continued trading laser fire as they zigged and zagged through the asteroid field.

"That voice... It can't be... Identify yourself or we will destroy you!"

"Surely you remember me, Darth Magius. I certainly remember you, although you weren't called Darth back then. It's taken me so long to track you down. When was the last time we met? Alderaan?"

"Shields down to sixty-five percent, master," the protocol droid warned.

Magius made note of that, growing annoyed at the Jedi's persistence. "Vissara...? But you're dead. I saw you die!"

"What is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger," she replied cryptically.

"That doesn't sound like something the Jedi would follow."

The Fury dipped down to pass underneath a large asteroid, with the Defender following suit. However, when it cleared around to the other side, the Imperial ship had flipped around, inertia still taking it in the direction it had been facing previously, and unloaded a barrage of missiles toward the Republic vessel. The Defender performed a barrel roll, managing to evade two of the four missiles coming its way, but its shields were still holding. The Fury's engines sent it accelerating toward the Defender, as if going to ram it, and perhaps it might have, had the corvette not swerved away. It had given up the advantage then, however. Now, the Fury was behind the Defender, cannons firing away at each other as they traded positions.

"I am no longer with the Jedi Order," Vissara said over the comms. "After Coruscant, I saw how weak the Jedi truly were, so I left. I began hunting for you, to pay you back for what you did to me, and now I finally have you, my lord."

Magius could feel the venom dripping from her words as she used his formality. He couldn't help but chuckle. Of all the methods he had devised of turning Jedi to the Dark Side, he had never thought that killing them (or supposedly killing them, in this case) would be one.

"How the mighty have fallen," Magius retorted.

"As shall you!" he heard her yell, the anger clear in her voice. The comm channel closed abruptly.

"Shields down to forty percent, master," the protocol droid warned again.

"Avoid as much further cannon fire as you can, 51. I want that ship crippled, but not destroyed. Target her engines."

The ships came out at the other side of the asteroid field, green and red laser bolts criss-crossing each other as they swerved from side to side to evade being hit as much as possible. Magius noticed some smoke coming from the Defender's right engine, and soon enough an engine fire alarm went off on one of the consoles. An astrodroid was deployed to repair it as soon as possible, lest it spread and blow up his ship.

"Shields at thirty-three percent, master."

The ship shuddered suddenly and there was a loud noise, as if something breaking off. Another fire alarm went off, different compartment. Sparks flew out of some overhead consoles.

"Alert: Master, we have lost one of the starboard tactical fins," HK-51 reported.

"Doesn't matter," Magius replied. "Those things serve no purpose anyway. I grow weary of this chase. Arm the proton torpedo. We're ending this."

"Sensors are being jammed, master," 2V-R9 stated.

"Then fire it manually!"

Meanwhile, the Defender had lost its shielding and was beginning to take considerably more damage. Its right engine was now completely blown out and venting smoke and exhaust, and another fire had sprung up on its port side. The ship was beginning to fall apart.

"I surrender!" Vissara's voice suddenly shouted over the comm channel. "I surrender," she said again, more painfully.

The Fury came to a stop just over the Defender, boarding tube lowered from the belly of the former onto the top of the corvette. Magius brought his assassin droid with him when he boarded Vissara's ship, more than suspecting the fallen Jedi of some kind of trickery. She was waiting for him as soon as he exited from the airlock.

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