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Re: Star Wars - The Old Republic RP

Posted: Mon Dec 03, 2018 4:52 am
by AnimeFanV2
Once everyone was on board, the ship took off and left the hanger. Necre ordered the pilot to head towards the planet Tattooine immediately. They could hide out at his stronghold there until Sunder recovered. The ship left Nar Shadaa and entered hyperspace towards Tattooine. Necre walked out of the bridge and moved towards the medical bay. He entered after a few moments and saw Constance and Decimia hovering over Sunder. "Will Sunder live?" He asked.

Re: Star Wars - The Old Republic RP

Posted: Mon Dec 03, 2018 12:11 pm
by Dead_Inside
Constance looked up as Decimia stayed where she was, her hands hovering over Sunder's head and abdomen and glowing brightly as she concentrated to try and figure out what has been injected into her.

"It takes more than a head injury to kill her. We just don't know what she's been injected with.", Constance says with a sigh.

Without her armor, Sunder was dressed in her formfitting black pants and top, her abdomen, chest and one of her arms visible. Her exposed arm was decorated with a black tattoo that went from her shoulder to her finger tips, it was Ancient Sith words with decorative swirls around it. Her wrist was lined with multiple scars, as if she had nearly lost her hand or someone had slashed her wrist close to twenty times, the scars from the base of her wrist almost to her elbow. Two scars crossed her abdomen, one left by Necre when they battled in the Hidden Jedi Vault across her right side and another just under her belly button that looks like she had been impaled by a very sharp blade and it has been dragged out her left side. Both scars look as if the wounds should have opened and spilled her guts but she was still alive and breathing. Constance knew she hated when people saw her scars and quickly draped a thin blanket over Sunder's prone form. Decimia furrowed her brows after a moment.

"Damn it!", she growled.

"What is it?", Constance asked, looking up into her glowing eyes.

"It's a fast acting poison. Meant to tranquilize Krayt Dragons and Nexu or to kill Brain Worms. I can't burn it off but I can try to formulate an antidote. There is alot of it in her system.", she huffed, pulling her hands away and her eyebrows furrowing.

"It won't kill her but it's a poison nonetheless and she'll be unconscious as long as it's in her system, by my guess a few hours.", she growled, running her fingers over her hair in frustration.

Constance's eyes widened, she knew of this poison and had used it herself but her cache of antidote was back at Sunder's Stronghold and it was hard to formulate.

"A few hours?!?!", she nearly screamed.

Re: Star Wars - The Old Republic RP

Posted: Mon Dec 03, 2018 2:07 pm
by AnimeFanV2
Necre stood there and listened as they discussed what was happening to Sunder. " If it will only be a few hours, then she'll likely awake when we arrive at our destination. ". he said. Tattooine was quite a distance from Nar Shadaa even with hyperspace after all. It didnt matter much anyway though, considering that Sunder would live. That was all that mattered for now. But until she recovered, they would need to hide from the Eternal Empire.

Re: Star Wars - The Old Republic RP

Posted: Mon Dec 03, 2018 2:43 pm
by Dead_Inside
Decimia looked at him a moment.

"What's on Tatooine?", she asked curiously.

Constance had gone back to inspecting the bruise on the back of Sunder's neck.

"This seems to be getting worse. Do you have a small scalpel? We need to drain the blood before I puts pressure on her spine. What in the Heavens did he hit her with?", she grunted, the bruise seeming to have spread.

Decimia turned and moved to where Constance stood, bringing her hand under Sunder's neck where the blackish bruise was visible. She lightly pressed her index finger to the bruise and, using Force Wound, made a small incision. Instantly, blood burst from the bruise to the bed under Sunder's head. Constance grabbed a handful of surgical cloth and started pressing the bruise to drain the blood from it.

"This is bad.", she whispered to no one in particular, deep crimson blood coating her fingers as she concentrated on what she was doing.

Re: Star Wars - The Old Republic RP

Posted: Mon Dec 03, 2018 8:02 pm
by AnimeFanV2
Necre looked back at Decimia as he responded. " My personal stronghold is on Tattooine. Once we get there, we can hide from the Empire until your friend has recovered. " he said. With how desolate Tattoine was, even the Eternal Empire would have difficulty finding the stronghold. Necre decided to leave the room as they started working on Sunder. He headed towards his quarters on the other side of the ship. After a few moments of walking, he entered the room and accessed his terminal. He saw several messages from some of his followers and started going through them.

Re: Star Wars - The Old Republic RP

Posted: Mon Dec 03, 2018 9:08 pm
by Eragon
Valeria stormed out of the meeting, infuriated by the high council. She had thought better of them. Obviously they are being clouded by the constant movement of the dark side, they are rapidly growing stronger and the council wants evidence instead of ”My feelings!? Who do they think they are to criticise what I felt and heard. The force is telling me a great deal and they want to ignore it.”

She retired to her quaters and plumbed on her bed exhausted from arguing. Though she is angry she can’t let it control her. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. As always the tugging feel from the force had always been presence. None of the other masters can feel what she feels. That’s partly why they won’t believe her tail but they force has never lied to her before and she is certain it is not now.

Feeling more relaxed and able to think clearly she thought on the subject. The vision that she had seen... It was a message that she can’t get out of her brain. A little annoying of anything. The sith are acting up more then ever, looking for knowledge. Eventually they will be able to invade tython but that still will take a very long time. For now they are safe but they still need to be stopped. ”If the council won’t. I will do it myself... but not alone. I need someone else who has much experience outside of these walls.

Re: Star Wars - The Old Republic RP

Posted: Mon Dec 03, 2018 9:11 pm
by Dead_Inside
Decimia watched Constance, handing her more of the surgical cloth. The blood wasn't pouring out of the wound as badly now but it was still a steady flow. Constance grit her teeth, it would take more that one go to drain this but she was afraid to just leave the bruise as it was starting to swell.

"Should we trust him?", Decimia asked her in Ancient Sith.

Constance looked up at her a moment then went back to what she was doing.

"Arcann found Arlandra's Stronghold. We don't have a choice. He could have left us in that bastard's hand but he didn't, he's helping us. I say in this instance, yes, we trust him. He could have easily left us captured or tried to kill us with Arlandra wounded and unconscious.", she said in Ancient Sith, pressing the bruise once more.

More blood splattered out of the swollen bruise. She sighed softly and pressed the cloth to the incision, catching as much blood as she could.

"Close it. That's enough for now.", Constance said in Common.

Decimia nodded and moved her hand back down to the incision she made, heating the tip of her finger with Pyrokinesis. She leaned in and cauterized the wound, stopping the flow of blood. Constance grabbed more cloth and a surgical wrap, dressing the wound carefully before sighing and going to wash her hands. This wasn't the first time she's had Sunder's blood on her hands and like all the times before......she hated it.

"We stay with her until she's conscious. I need to wash my hands, you need to meditate.", Constance said.

"After another round of healing for your head.", Decimia said, doing what she could to clean up the blood on the bed.

Constance nodded and moved to clean her hands off.

Re: Star Wars - The Old Republic RP

Posted: Tue Dec 04, 2018 3:23 pm
by TheWatchDog
"Murderer!" the cry echoed, muffled and mechanical from the bronze coated helm of one Tythas Muur. Born on a no name backwater much like this one. In the great and glorious Eternal Empire, like the rest of his family going back to the time before his home world had known the glory of Valkorion Tythas expected to be a farmer. To tend crops, herd animals, to spend countless hours gazing at the stars as his hounds lazed about him, guarding, protecting a herd and dreaming of the stars, dreaming of out there bringing civilization to the dark. His dreams, as Tythas Murr would find out, were perhaps in part prophecy.

At eleven, he discovered he possessed the Emperor's gift, the ability to seek communion with the force, more besides, the power to harness and wield it. Tythas recalled being afraid, wanting to hide his gift, fearing he would never see his parents or siblings again. But twenty years as a Knight of Zakuul had showed him the error of his provincial thinking. Weened on tales of the Jedi, their propensity to; at various points in their history pull apart families in the service of their ceaseless jihad against the dark. The people of his world spoke of force powers as an orphan making kiss, one that came with the potential for ruinous madness if the dark was embraced. Yet, mastery over the force, light, dark, whichever constitutes the in-between (he'd recalled some legends of a Bendu peoples, the ones in the middle and encountered some of their journals when his unit had stormed the Jedi Academy at Dantooine), had not come at a terrible cost. Beyond the long hours of waiting, of pointless patrols and only occasional action that made up the oft glamorized but seldom glamorous life of one who serves. From fear of the dark, to embracing the whirlwind of the force in all its glory to leaping into duty hoping, longing for adventure to growing to accept the boredom of the duty, all in all Tythas Muur could not have complained. He'd done it all, or so he thought.

His youthful call for adventure was met when Glorious Valkorion and his children determined that it was finally time to bring order and civilization to the corrupt and flagging Republic, to the brutal and pointless Sith and all in between. Mandalorian, Jedi, Sith, his division of Knights faced them all. Some were great fighters, warriors who slew dozens of his brothers. Others were no challenge, though the result seldom changed; all fell before their mighty lances.

That was until they were garrisoned on this, "outer-rim" backwater, some damnable planet off its axis, alternating between centuries long ice ages and temperate climates, all save for the planetary equator, where it was a misery of asphyxiating humidity, violent rain storms that could last months and parasites that would devour the flesh while boiling you alive in your own fat.

He hated this world, but duty brought him here, duty mandated that the Jedi who trained in the frozen north of the world be brought to heel. As always, civilization had been brought to the heretics at the cost of nearly all the Jedi of course.

Fools, stubborn, willful and blasphemous.

They fell, like so many before them.

Experience was a cruel yet empowering teacher. Or so he'd believed, two decades of service, a dozen commendations. His Knights were the dragon reborn! or so...he believed.

They'd been at some local establishment, watching Twi'lik whores ply traders and soldiers of the Eternal Empire for gossip, credits and action. Drinking as they did (there really was nothing else to do this far north, it was either prostitutes, gaming and alcohol, or suicide or the tropics which was often the same thing). Boredom had given way to interest, when a communications officer in his unit rushed in hurriedly, Arcann had captured some powerfull Sith Witch or some such nonsense. Though, at least the conversation distracted him from the monotony of the job, A sith worth the attention of Arcann himself must have been a rare prize indeed. This conversation, though somewhat muffled, carried like the stink of a carcass to keen ears, ears that belonged to a mindless behemoth who had one working girl on his lap and another passed out from exertion draped across his shoulders like some obscene coat of flesh.

Tythas should have noticed, the air felt wrong, he should have sensed it, the dull, creeping, consumptive absence in the room as the force seemed to bend and twist, centered on one person, the immense creature. But experience, also made one arrogant, he'd felt nothing like that before, so he dismissed it as some irrelevant phenomena in the force.

The first sign that anything was a amiss was one of the harlots being thrown with such force that her spine shattered when she impacted against one of his Knights. Armor crumpled, bones below broke and flesh was bruised. Soldier's around them drew their weapons, Light-saber pikes were ignored and the air filled with plasmic gasses and kinetic violence as a beast, a mountain of a man rose, flinging a table toward the gunmen and then, the other Harlot used as a blunt instrument, a grotesque warhammer exploded against Zakuulan armor, her head vanished in a sea of mist and bone fragments as his fellow Knights chest caved in.

Slurred, words that sounded more like roars echoed the air and soon their lances were challenged by a blade that sang through the air and connected with energy! It challenged their sabers! He'd never seen that before, oh he'd heard stories, legends that the ancient Sith and Jedi could do such things. Yet that seemed fanciful, fantastic...nonsensical.

Only, the right arm of his best friend had just been lopped off, another's guts spilled across the floor and it took both soldiers and Knights a second to realize the giant, garbed in armor wreaking of alchemy, jangling with macabre trinkets of past battles was after the communications officer who'd delivered the news.

Everyone soon rallied around him, attempting to deny this, profane giant his quarry and one by one they fell. Tanar R'o'o lost an arm, literally pulled from its socket by the giant who began to drink of its blood only to cough, sputter and angrily protest that, that wasn't his cup! in an indignant fury he drunkenly beat a man who stood against three Sith apprentices in battle without taking a single injury...To death, with his own limb, blaming Tanar for the man's own drunken transgression.

"The..kriff...where'd my bitches go?" Here the fight paused, as he looked around in bewilderment searching, scanning the area. Did this hulking maniac truly wish to pause the fight to fornicate?! Upon finding the grizzled ruins that had once been rather, attractive harlots, the brute growled out an "oh...there they are..." whatever pause ended the moment he recalled his brutality and then laughed, again, that wretched blade which sang out like a baleful call from the darkest pits of the Force halved one of his men and then the soldiers in the garrison began to die by half dozens until none were left and in a moment of horror driven instinct and realization. Tythas Muur killed his communications officer, denying the feral beast the means to hunt down his Emperor!

This enraged the giant, who kicked him through a window, the impact into the snow and dirt broke bones, bent armor and left him stupefied....Never, had he been hit so hard.

the call to murderer, came out, inside the helmet with more fear than he intended and the giant, seemingly sensing it laughed. "Murderer! Hah! I suppose I am at that but I'm not the one who damned himself by stabbing that scrawny louse!"

"You'll never ascertain the location of my master now beast!" Tythas, Knight of Zakuul spat, remember that he was brave.

Here, the giant paused blinking...then his face, drunken and deep, flushed began to turn bright red until his mouth opened wide and near hysterical laughter boomed across the horizon. "Fool! If I wanted to know the location of Arcann I'd have killed some Knights higher up on the food chain! Doesn't that whelp still maintain his father's honor guard? You murdered your guy for nothing!" the roar of laughter that echoed after that sentiment filled Tythas with shame and raged and a curse built up in his throat "You think that's funny?!"

"I think its hilarious!"

"Kill me"

"shaddap, I'm thinking, it hurts to think when I'm this drunk"


At that, the giant turned and a slow grin manifested across his massive skull, his beard, dotted with snow and blood fluttered in the wind and two, thunderous steps brought them closer. A massive silver hand gripped at The Knights skull and Tythas R'o'o found himself lifted into the air. "A dog hmm?" A slow, deep rumble escaped the behemoths throat "Aye....that's what I am and more besides...The Hound...Hound of the Vitiate, lord of all Sith..King of the dark...Hound..of Zakuul"

Impossible! This was the great Huntsmen of Valkorion?! A

as if sensing his despair the giant, breath stinking of drink and blood laughed a slow, cruel laugh.

"You were...liiiieeeddd....tooo lil'toy soldier"

those were the last words before Tythas R'o'o Knight of Zakuul died, his skull crushed through his helm until blood watered the snow below him.

"Sunder..." The giant slowly chuckled tossing aside the carcass. "Captured by that stammering, whining clown...Ah well, there are more than two ways to skin a cat!" speaking of cats...turning back to the now ruined in, he espied a Farghul....stupid felinoids...he punched the furry abominations face in simply for existing and sauntered off into the snow.

"Kriff...I need to find my ride...where the blazes is my starship!?"

Re: Star Wars - The Old Republic RP

Posted: Tue Dec 04, 2018 3:49 pm
by AnimeFanV2
Necre sighed as he went through the messages. There was some good news and some bad news as usual. Several of the missions he had given out were accomplished and others had not been. Necre stopped as he read a message from his one of his closest allies. It seemed that they would be waiting at his stronghold when he and the others arrived on Tattooine. He spent a few more minutes on the terminal then shut it off. He decided to meditate for now, trying to pass the time.

Re: Star Wars - The Old Republic RP

Posted: Tue Dec 04, 2018 4:42 pm
by Dead_Inside
Decimia gasped softly, her hand going to her head as she closed her eyes. Something bad was going to happen.....something horrible was ....looking for them? She hated when her visions slammed into her mind without warning, she would just endure them and tell them to Sunder who would interpret them. But she was unconscious and Constance was out of the room, she hoped this just a sight vision and not a full possession. She was dangerous when it was a full possession vision and usually only Sunder could break her out of it. Decimia swayed on her feet, her vision starting to cloud as he glowing red eyes quickly shifted to black, her face calm as she stared into what anyone else would see as nothingness. The sights and smells of the vision had taken hold of her, as she stood, stiff and unmoving, by Sunder’s bed.

“Okay, let’s get this healing over—“, Constance started as she entered the room.

She stopped as she saw the state Decimia was in, knowing instantly that she was having a vision.

“Decimia? Danny!”, Constance walked to her and placed her hand on her shoulder.

Danny reached up and grabbed Constance’s arm, a deep growl coming from her but it wasn’t in her voice, it was deep and male. Her other hand shot up to grab Constance by the throat, tightly, making Constance gasp.

“DANNY!”, Constance yelled at her as Decimia slammed her into the wall.

You’re just in the way, Mandolarian!”, that deep voice came from Decimia again, her face contorting into rage.

Both of her hands coming up to grab Constance by the throat, squeezing her windpipe shut. Constance choked, her air cut off as she struggled to remove Decimia’s hands from her throat. A cold grin spread across Decimia’s lips, her black eyes seeming to look through Constance as she tightened her strangle hold.