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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Nov 11, 2019 12:46:06 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Nov 11, 2019 12:46:06 GMT -5
The cresting sun found Karn alone in the Valley of the Dark Lords, well beyond the Sith Temple’s walls. He was perched atop a lone sandstone column — the last that stood among its toppled peers in what had once been a grand colonnaded entrance to the tomb of some Sith Lord whose name was long lost to history. Karn had wandered briefly wandered into the tomb, but it’d been picked clean ages ago, by scavengers or Sith historians. Perhaps both. The taint of the Dark Side lingered on, invigorating in the crisp pre-dawn air.
He wore a light grey coat — closed against the chill in the air — with slashes of black along the sleeves and a pale shirt beneath it. His pants were black, and he wore grey boots that matched his coat.
He’d slept poorly, the night before. It’d taken all he had to stay upright and get climb into his own bed, after the string of confrontations from the training yards and beyond. A fellow acolyte, the Praetor Magnus, and a Prophet of Mysteries, each proving his inferiority in turn.
Nightmares plagued him, of his master — his former master, he had to remind himself now — of his failures and hopes for glory turning to ash in his hands. Sleep grew so elusive after fitful hours that he left in the night, to seek solace in the Valley.
A pillar, leaning against a rocky cliff face on the way into the tomb, crumbled, as the Force pressed against it. Karn hadn’t realized he’d lashed out unwittingly, nor had he recognized the fires of anger burning in him as he contemplated the prior day’s events.
It was a lesson, he told himself as he stood atop the pillar. His breath misted in the cool air. I will learn from it. Whether he willed himself to or not, he suspected his new master would see that he did, regardless.
Karn Albrecht, however had never lacked for will when he set his mind to something. His loss to Janse, he would avenge. And Lord Nostos — he would suffer for the embarrassment he’d forced upon Karn. One way or another.
As the sun began to peek into the Valley of the Dark Lords, Karn hopped down from his perch. His landed spryly — his hurts from yesterday’s spar were diminished, at least — at began to make his way back to the Temple.
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Nov 11, 2019 15:31:48 GMT -5
Post by planxty on Nov 11, 2019 15:31:48 GMT -5
Strong of mind, strong in the Force...and weak of body. However, Nova was determined to change that. Though her body ached every day, she poured extra time into training and took up a new habit of going running each morning before daybreak. It was mostly to get out before the blazing sun was too high overhead, and also to get the chore out of the way before any other commitments, but Nova also found that it had the advantage of letting her get out before anyone else was awake to see that she didn’t have to go very far or run very fast before she turned into a wheezing mess.
Today was like any other: she ran alone through the Valley of the Dark Lords dressed in lightweight clothes and with her lightsaber on her side. Most of her attention was narrowly focused on her Force sense, lest she come across a foe without expecting it. As the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, Nova decided to turn back. She had enough energy to keep going but needed to save it to turn around and run back. Before turning back, she stopped for a moment to catch her breath, and she immediately regretted it. All of the exhaustion hit her at once, and she had to double over a gasp for air to get her breath back.
At least she was alone….or was she? Nova could sense another person, and suddenly felt a jolt of panic. The last thing she wanted was to be seen in this state: red faced, sweating, short of breath, and her hair a total mess. She stayed still, pouring even more focus into her Force sense to try to figure out where the person was, but she couldn’t pin down the location, and all she could see was the blurry landscape.
Taken by surprise, Nova nearly jumped back when the young man landed from atop the pillar. She tried to hide that she was caught off guard, though, and also tried to hide that she was still short of breath as she spoke.
”Well...that’s an unusual place to pass the time.”
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caelum
Omnia Mutantur Nihil Interit
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Youngling
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Nov 11, 2019 20:50:50 GMT -5
Post by caelum on Nov 11, 2019 20:50:50 GMT -5
Nostos remembered the first time Clarent Latt had entered the Valley of the Dark Lords.
Lady Eeyrie had brought him here, months after the invasion of Dantooine. Clarent had been young, but heavily indoctrinated into the singular views of the Jedi and where most other sith would have decided to simply end the padawan Eeyrie had taken a different approach.
Enlightened philosophy or high minded ideals did not motivated the sith into capturing Clarent. She had not done so to teach him the flaws of the Light Side or that she saw something special in him or half a dozen other reasons he had fooled himself into believing. She did so because she needed a toy, and her last one had broken. She had done so because while a Jedi may have been boring to break with their certainty in the light, a padawan had far more interesting neuroses to pick apart. She had done so because she wanted to break Clarent, to punish the padawan who had denied the prize she had sought on Dantooine, and show him just how far one could fall.
Clarent had spent months there as her plaything. The Order of Silver hoarded it's secrets with care, and from them Eeyrie had drank deeply. She had styled herself as the Lady of Pain, and as the secrets she gathered unto herself inflicted pain upon her that transcended the physical, so too did she inflict it upon Clarent himself. Her knives and her powers and the cold dead skin on her hands flayed the edges of who and what Clarent was.
Nostos opened his eyes, staring out into the Valley. A living monument to the power of the Dark Side, and a tomb for fools. In the centuries since it's location had passed into the stuff of folktales and myth, archaeologists, dark side dabblers and thieves had plundered the Valley. Anything of value would have been taken long ago, but fools still come regardless, drawn by the siren's song of Korriban itself, only for them to find their final resting place below the red sands.
An appropriate metaphor for the dark side, Nostos considered.
The Sith Lord stood, feeling every snap of ligament and bone as he withdrew from his sitting position. His body had begun to heal, the use of his abilities on Karn days prior unleashing a....blockage in the dark side that had been inhibiting his recovery. Now his healing was moving at a comfortable pace, such that in a few weeks he would be fully recovered.
But Nostos did not have a few weeks. A Lord of the Sith he had become, but it would mean nothing if he could not imbue his will upon Eeyrie's holdings. They knew, by now, that Eeyrie was dead and while he had faith that the Lady's protections over her resources were strong, they could not hold against the opportunistic and the foolish forever.
So he had come to the Valley, to heal and to rest, but now it seems such retreat was over.
His presence in the force was masked, the better to conceal herself from the eyes of others. Such a technique may mask him but it did blind his senses in the Force. Thankful then, that he still had eyes to see.
In the distance he could see two people, communicating and near each other, a curiosity within the Valley. He did not know them, at least, not from this distance, but nonetheless he had grown bored in his meditations.
And so, keeping the two in mind and keeping his concealment in the force active, he approached the duo. It would take time to reach them he imagined, time enough to talk, but Nostos was patient. He would get there eventually.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Nov 12, 2019 13:27:46 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Nov 12, 2019 13:27:46 GMT -5
As soon as his feet touched the ground, Karn recognized that he was not alone. He’d not developed much knack for feeling others unless he made an active effort to; atop the pillar, his attention had been focused inward, rather than on the Valley around him. The Valley drew Sith from the Temple, but he’d not expected any company in the early twilight.
Yet as he landed, dipping momentarily to a crouch to let the momentum pass, he felt her presence. He turned his milky eyes to the other acolyte, instinctively on guard. His long-hilted lightsaber swung at his waist from his motion, ornately-worked songsteel glinting in the early morning sunlight. She was a fair bit shorter than he, and flushed as if fresh off some vigorous exercise.
Human, he noted with some mild disdain, though he kept his face neutral.
“It was a good enough place for me,” he said flatly. “Away from the noise.”
Karn searched his mind, trying to recall if he’d ever seen the girl before. She wasn’t familiar with her, and her face didn’t draw any names to mind. It has been a long time since I was on Korriban. Lady Colubus—his former master—had always preferred Dromund Kaas, the heart of Imperial power.
Karn very much shared her opinion.
“The Valley’s an unusual place to go for a run,” he said, eyeing her. It was his best guess, from her appearance. Unless she had just arrived from fighting something, though she didn’t seem that disheveled. “All sorts of dangers out here, if you’re not on your guard.”
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last online Dec 23, 2019 16:01:09 GMT -5
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Nov 13, 2019 21:46:05 GMT -5
Post by planxty on Nov 13, 2019 21:46:05 GMT -5
Nova’s already pink cheeks turned a shade darker from embarrassment. Was it really that obvious that she had been out running and exerting herself? Was it really so much to just want to have some privacy for her morning exercising? Apparently so.
She took a little breath to calm herself, and a slight sly smile appeared on her face as she regained her composure. She put her hands on her hips as she spoke. “Then it’s a good thing I’ve been on my guard.” Her voice was playful and sassy as she spoke. She paused to brush a stray lock of sweaty hair out of her face. “I know the danger, and I can take care of myself.”
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Nov 17, 2019 17:02:38 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Nov 17, 2019 17:02:38 GMT -5
A small smile, with a subtle touch of arrogance, touched Karn’s face. “Well as long as you know the dangers,” he said, shrugging. “Doesn’t matter to me one way or the other, really.” He wondered, idly, if she’d ever ventured into one of the tombs. The academy’s masters said dangers lurked in the tombs; the further out from the temple, the more dangerous.
Karn had paid heed to their words, for the most part. Many acolytes ventured out into some of the old crypts, searching for glory or to prove themselves in uncovering lost knowledge. He’d studied the Sith language, well enough to read the ancient writings and to speak it, but he’d never yet ventured into one of the unexplored tombs.
Several of his fellows had, and never returned. There was, to Karn, a fine line between bravery and stupidity.
So which are you, then? he asked himself, remembering his encounter with Nostos and the Dark Lord Viren. His face contorted to agitation for a fleeting moment before he pushed the thought away.
“Anyway, I gu-” A howl echoed across the Valley of the Dark Lords, cutting Karn off. He followed the sound, looking up and to his right, where a Tuk’ata stood atop a rise near the entrance to the forgotten Sith Lord’s tomb. He scowled. “Another one of those things. They’ve been watching all morning.”
Another howl, long and low, echoed from the far side. There, another Tuk’ata emerged on the far wall. It hopped down with a cascade of loose rock and dirt, landing between Karn and the tomb’s entrance. The other jumped down on the other side, blocking off an escape route to the front.
Karn inhaled deeply, watchings the beasts and their sharp spines closely. The one behind them growled at him, lithe body held low to the ground as it stalked forward “Hope you know how to use that thing,” Karn said as his hand slowly went to his lightsaber hilt. “Gonna need it.”
From the distance, more howls echoed across the Valley.
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Nov 22, 2019 23:31:21 GMT -5
Post by sithlover on Nov 22, 2019 23:31:21 GMT -5
Having arrived in Korriban earlier, Ven had just finished up putting her things away. Deciding to take a look around to get a better feel for the planet, she went off towards the ruins in the distance. Normally she would’ve trained on Dromund Kaas, at the newer Sith temple. However, the mentors there decided it would be better for her to gain more experience on Korriban, and so they sent her there to train temporarily. After she made ample progress on Korriban, Ven would come back to train on Dromund Kaas.
Coming closer to the ancient Sith ruins, Ven began to heard sounds of some sort of creature. As she had almost made it over there, she noticed the alien beasts whose species she didn’t recognize. Seeing past the creatures, Ven could tell there were people there, seemingly getting ready to fight said creatures. What stuck out the most to her though, was the boy with the lightsaber in hand. Ven figured some of them were acolytes like her, and wanting to get some experience in actual fighting, she readied herself to attack.
Somewhat nervous as she was only used to training spars, Ven took a deep breath to calm herself down. Feeling ready, she took out her red lightsaber, somewhat admiring the sleek black handle in her grip. Summoning up all her courage she charged at the one creature farthest away from the other people there.
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Ash
Ash Ash Binks
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Nov 25, 2019 0:33:32 GMT -5
Post by Ash on Nov 25, 2019 0:33:32 GMT -5
Korriban was never a place that Exryla liked. In fact, she hated this planet, as it was where she 'trained' to become what she was now. Ever since she was a young girl, taken from being a slave into a what is generally considered a slave. These thoughts kept her distracted from her reading.
It was her more fantasy books, nothing like what others would read. She enjoyed these as they brought her happy memories back from when she was at her lowest. Those thoughts turned back to her training and her boiling, hidden rage that seemed to sit under her emotionless, empty facade that was her entire existence.
Howling soon touched Exryla's ears, the half Hapan young woman perking up slighly. She slowly stood up from where she was sitting, the depression hiding her from view of others who would bother her, and her datapad went into a hidden pocket in her cloak, and her glasses into a hidden slot in her armored chest piece.
Golden eyes spotted two figures close to her, as well as a Tuk'ata beast stood on a rise leading up to one of the many tombs dotting the Valley of the Dark Lords. She had studied these beasts and knew how to kill them. Ex took out her saber, a double blade, but still the same size as a normal saber hilt. Nothing was ignited yet, as there was no cause for her to attack, nor was a command, as it had been drilled into her. Golden eyes watched the beasts, and the few people she could see. Ex simply stood there, not in any particular stance, quiet and soft in the force. Waiting.
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caelum
Omnia Mutantur Nihil Interit
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last online Oct 1, 2021 13:39:09 GMT -5
Youngling
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Dec 2, 2019 19:12:57 GMT -5
Post by caelum on Dec 2, 2019 19:12:57 GMT -5
Nostos traversed the sands of the Valley with a careful, deliberate, pace. He had no specific desire to reach anywhere, no specific need that required fulfillment. He simply walked, allowing the Will of the Force to guide him.
A rather Jedi sentiment, Nostos supposed, but the Force certainly had it's way of telling it's supplicants what it wanted. Among the sordid masses of sapient sheep that made up the vast majority of the galaxy it felt like a wave, an ungainly beast that bent and strayed however much the sheep desired and dreamed of. Korriban was much different in that regard.
The Dark Side suffused this place in a different way than it did a place like Onderon. It was purer here. More concentrated. Where the dark side was influenced by the people still living upon it's plains, Korriban's power has seeped deep into the rock. Into the core and soul of this world. He imagined that even should a cataclysm burn this world to cinder and spread it's ash upon the cosmic winds, that even the fragments of this world would still be suffused with dark side power.
So it was that Nostos wandered, intent upon Karn but not acting upon it, when he finds someone else entirely.
Karn was there, and so was his companion. But there was another person now, a doublebladed lightsaber. The tuk'ata nearby seemed to have been lured into aggression somehow, and it seems like conflict was inevitable.
Nostos wondered, briefly, whether the burgeoning aggression in this place was what led him here. Wherever there was conflict, the dark side was present, and perhaps he was expected to exacerbate the conflict somehow. Or perhaps he was meant to observe, to watch over these acolytes for some reason or another.
A pause. Both options were not mutually exclusive.
He reached out into the force, abandoning his concealment, and stretched his awareness further and further. He had never been particularly adept in the deft handling of animals, but he found that in this case such care was unnecessary. Nostos plunged himself into the minds of the tuk'ata, imbuing them with aggression. With hate. With a self destructive desire to clash upon their enemies again and again and again until they were dead.
Then, satisfied with his work, he stood by from a distance, curious at what would happen.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Dec 3, 2019 11:40:24 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Dec 3, 2019 11:40:24 GMT -5
Karn’s focus narrowed on the beast as it growled at him. The Tuk’ata was big — larger than a wolf, yet still smaller than some of the monstrous specimens that were rumored to guard the tombs of the most powerful Sith Lords. That was a stroke of luck. Normal Tuk’ata were hard enough to bring down; it was said the ancient ones posed serious threats even to Sith Lords.
Watch the spines, he told himself as he grasped his lightsaber. It was long — more than twice the length of a regular lightsaber hilt — and beautifully-worked songsteel. If it gets you with those spines, it’s over. He’d fought a Tuk’ata once before — one that Lady Colubus had sent after him as a training exercise on Dromund Kaas. He was lucky to have only escaped with the subtle scar that lined his side; he’d taken his share of lumps in felling the beast.
He heard another lightsaber igniting and hurried footsteps along the rocky desert ground. He could feel the presence of another acolyte, near Nova and himself, and a fourth, separated from the group. Karn dared not turn away from the Sith Hound staring him down, lest he invite attack while his attention was elsewhere.
“So are you coming?” muttered to the Tuk’ata. Its throat rumbled like thunder as it growled, and drool dripped from its mouth as it lowered its body toward the ground. Yet it stayed back, wary.
Karn felt a presence emerge, further down the Valley. This was much more powerful than their own, dark and foreboding. I know that presence, he thought with a shock and, despite his resolution not to break focus on the Sith Hound, tore his gaze away to the source.
Nostos approached from a distance. For a fleeting moment, Karn thought they might have an unlikely ally, but that was dashed as soon as he felt the Prophet directing the Force toward the Tuk’ata. So near to one, he felt the sudden hate and urge to kill coming off the beast like heat from an open oven.
That son of a bitch, he thought with an angry look at Nostos. His crimson lightsaber sprang to life as the Tuk’ata lunged at him.
Karn hopped out of the way, taking a swipe at the Sith Hound as it passed him. His blade made passing contact, leaving a glowing mark on the Tuk’ata’s muscular hide. It didn’t seem to bother the Tuk’ata.
If anything, the beast, clawed feet skidding on the loose rocks as it scrambled to turn around and come at Karn again, seemed angrier than before.
“Alright then,” Karn said as he drew on the Force, sharpening his senses, his reactions, “let’s get this over with.” He darted forward, lightsaber curtain of whirling red around him.
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Ash
Ash Ash Binks
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Dec 8, 2019 14:25:02 GMT -5
Post by Ash on Dec 8, 2019 14:25:02 GMT -5
Yea... definitely something not good. Tuk'ata beasts were pretty damn big, especially compared to her smaller frame. Glowing red eyes seemed to stare deep into them as the slowly closed in. Exryla had studied up on these beasts, and even fought some during her original stay here on this planet. She absolutely hated these darkside spawn. Her golden eyes narrowed, showing a very slight amount of emotion compared to her usual blank look.
Before anything more happened, the touch of the force reached her, some presence she had not felt before. Ex stretched out her senses, feeling a powerful force user, and she chanced a look their way, seeing some man standing nearby. Unusual.
Then she realized what he was doing as aggression from the Tuk'ata flared up. He was affecting them with the force... the absolute hell? These Tuk'ata were enough that they could kill all the acolytes here... or was that the point? A test?
Yes, that had to be it. It had to be. With one final look at the strange Sith lord, she fully refocused her attention on these newly made super aggressive beasts.
The one closest to her turned its attention to her fully, teeth bared and spines standing strait and very sharp. Exryla matched it, going into a Ataru stance and igniting the red-violet blade on one end.
It lunched, closing the distance to her in a heartbeat. The young woman spun to the side, igniting the second end for a moment and letting the Tuk'ata's momentum carry it into its path, slicing off a few spines and scoring its hide.
With the force to assist her, she danced away, flourishing her blade and going back to a single blade stance yet again. She let out a small breath. She inhaled once again slowly, going into her combat mode fully and allowing the force to flow through her, ready for it to be grabbed and used at her whim.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Dec 31, 2019 19:53:19 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Dec 31, 2019 19:53:19 GMT -5
Karn’s focus dulled to the fighting around him as he closed in on the Twi’lek. The sound of his peers’ lightsabers whirring, the howls and snarls of the other Sith hounds, all reduced to white noise as his footsteps on the rocky desert ground, the lightsaber thrumming in his hand, the Tuk’ata’s growling, his own heartbeat thundered in his ears. He was aware that other Tuk’ata might choose to join the fray, but against this specimen — the largest of the group, the alpha — he could spare no distractions.
They danced around each other, trading testing swipes and thrusts and bites, each searching the other for weakness. The beast was fast, and its Force sensitivity granted it an uncanny ability to scamper out of the way of his strikes. Karn, normally aggressive to a fault, dared not overextend himself, lest he meet the wrong end of the Tuk’ata’s poisonous stingers.
He baited the beast into a strike. A false opening — a feigned stagger on the rocks — and it charged, teeth glistening with saliva. Karn, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, braced himself and ducked under the Tuk’ata’s reaching claws and teeth and caught its charge on his shoulder. He braced himself with his own strength and the Force, but even so, slid back from the force of the Tuk’ata’s heavy frame meeting his own.
As the Tuk’ata’s body met his, as they slid back across the loose earth, Karn struck quickly, cleanly. A thrust of the lightsaber into the creature’s chest, burying the blade to the emitter shroud as the crimson tip emerged from the Tuk’ata’s back.
It shrieked and howled, yet struggled on. Karn winced as a claw tore into the back of his shoulder, rending flesh and drawing blood.
He freed one hand and pressed his palm to the dying creature, drawing on his irritation and the new, searing pain on his back. Lightning erupted from his fingertips. The Tuk’ata writhed violently, worsening the lightsaber wound as Karn’s blade held steady.
And then it fell limp, weight sagging onto Karn. With a grunt, he pushed the dead beast off of him, breathing deeply despite the acrid smell of burning flesh.
His pulse raced. An intoxicating mixture of the Force and raw emotion flooded his senses.
Another Tuk’ata, much smaller than the first, charged Karn, perhaps thinking him distracted in his moment of triumph. He spun at the Force’s calling and another burst of lightning sprang forth, stunning the creature and blunting its advance. On and on the lightning poured, until the Tuk’ata sagged to the ground, near to death but not yet across the threshold.
Karn relented and, dizzy with his own superiority, walked to crouch by the dying hound. He pressed his palm to its side. Flashes of energy, like the lightning he’d let fly a moment earlier but dark, bloody red, danced across his fingers and onto the beast. Karn’s ivory white eyes lifted skyward in pleasure as he drew the remnants of the creature’s life energy into himself.
When he stood, the wound on his shoulder had knit itself shut. A grey, withered husk of the Tuk’ata remained at his feet. He felt near to bursting with the Force, with vigor and elation at his performance. Would that Lady Colubus could see him now, or his Darth Viren. Yet the former lay dead and forgotten on Nar Shadda, and his formal tutelage under the latter had not yet begun.
He gave a casual glance to the peers around him, lightsaber still aglow in his hand, and paid them no mind, no effort to help any who might yet fight on.
Instead, his focus found Nostos, watching from a distance. His grip tightened on his saber’s long hilt, but he deactivated it as he stepped away from the smaller tuk’ata and over the corpse of the larger one.
“Lord Nostos,” he called to the prophet. He stopped after a few steps. His lightsaber remained in hand, should any stragglers think to come after him. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” His tone was some imitation of polite, even if it felt like dragging sandpaper across his tongue. One mistaken aggravation of the Prophet was enough; Karn treaded the line of subservience and recalcitrance but had no desire for conflict with Nostos again.
Not yet.
Still, it was all too clear through his presence in the Force that his hackles were very much raised at the Prophet. “I trust we have you to thank for the excitement this morning?”
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caelum
Omnia Mutantur Nihil Interit
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last online Oct 1, 2021 13:39:09 GMT -5
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Jan 10, 2020 17:07:42 GMT -5
Post by caelum on Jan 10, 2020 17:07:42 GMT -5
"Apprentice." Nostos responds. He does not speak to him aloud, instead speaking into his mind, his voice echoing into his mind. "It is good to see you as well. While I had no plans, specifically, to see you so soon it seems the dark side had other intentions."
He began approaching the group, and while most of the beasts continued their current behavior as though nothing else had changed, those nearby Nostos seemed to shiver in fear, an instinctive response that resulted in them fleeing the scene as quickly as their legs could carry them. The Prophet paid them no mind, and eventually Nostos found himself in front of Karn once more. He observes the boy's injury, before nodding in satisfaction.
"It seems you're progressing well in your training." he says with some approval. "To heal yourself as you've just done bodes well for your future technique, though I would caution you to exercise restraint."
The Prophet's gaze turned towards the rest of the party, bright eyes observing them curiously. Nostos was clothed in the same attire as before, a minimalist, vaguely militaristic, tunic that was neatly form fitting. His lightsaber hanged from his belt, and casual observation would note that the weapon was a standard hilt, black and silver affair and largely utilitarian to the eye. More noticeable was another lightsaber, curved and extravagant, that seemed at odds with the Prophet's attire and which hanged from the other side of his belt. The sith turned towards Karn.
"I imagine that my action may be construed as an attempt on your life." Nostos considers idly. "That was not the case, at least not a deliberate one, and I consider it merely as a means to furthering an inquiry that had been bothering me for some time now."
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Jan 12, 2020 16:34:55 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Jan 12, 2020 16:34:55 GMT -5
“Apprentice.”
Nostsos’ voice echoed, not across the desert, but within Karn’s head. A shiver crept down his spine as he felt a trace of the Prophet’s presence, cold and dark and malevolent, within his own. It was a mere side effect of Nostos’ telepathic communication, rather than the withering telepathic assault Nostos subjected Karn to during their last meeting a day or two prior.
Even so, the presence was unwelcome. Karn’s grip tightened on his lightsaber. Muscle flexed along the side of his face as he clenched his jaw in an effort to keep his expression neutral. It was reflexive, after their last encounter, after learning what the Prophet could do. He wanted no part of Nostos in his mind, no matter how benign.
Karn knew well he could do little to stop the Prophet, if he wished to probe his mind. No matter how he tried, he could not keep a sliver of worry, a flash of fear from drifting through his mind before wrangling it under control. The excess Force power coursing through him from the slain Tuk’ata helped steady him under the Prophet’s gaze.
He was dimly aware of the whir and hum of lightsabers behind him as Nostos came to a halt. Perhaps some of the other acolytes fought on. That was immaterial to Karn; he’d bested his attackers, and the Sith hounds seemed wary of straying too close to the Prophet.
“I do my best,” he said simply, failing in his effort to hide a self-satisfied smirk at Nostos’ compliment. “It’s... invigorating.” He lifted the hand he’d used to draw the life from the Tuk’ata, turning it before his face as if marveling at his own greatness. “You know the feeling well, I’m sure.”
With Nostos now speaking audibly, rather than via telepathy, Karn felt a bit more self-assured, though he knew nothing had changed between them. Despite the smile, despite the cocky pleasure at his own ability that radiated from him, he was still on edge.
As Nostos spoke on, Karn’s smile faded, but only for a moment. “An attempt on my life? Lord Nostos, why ever would I think that? We’ve enjoy such a fond relationship, you and I.” His voice twisted with wry sarcasm, the joke made even more evident by the grin that crossed his face. The expression didn’t touch his ivory eyes, though. They stared hard at Nostos, narrowed slightly.
Still, the Prophet had said something that caught Karn’s notice. “Furthering an inquiry? Lord Nostos, unless you seek something in one of the tombs, I can think of little in the Valley itself,” he motioned at the desert around them, “that might be of interest to you.”
Unless, of course, the inquiry had something to do with the acolytes or the animals arrayed before Nostos, but Karn would rather hear the man tell his curiosity than guess at it.
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caelum
Omnia Mutantur Nihil Interit
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last online Oct 1, 2021 13:39:09 GMT -5
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Jan 14, 2020 10:12:54 GMT -5
Post by caelum on Jan 14, 2020 10:12:54 GMT -5
"Of sorts." Nostos nods. "It is a quintessential aspect of the dark side, to take the strength and vitality of others and absorb it into your own. It can be addicting."
Unbidden, he recalled the stories and legends of another sith lord so prone to using such power. Darth Nihlus may have been the epitome of what a sith might achieve in the taking and domination of life, not only absorbing the life of others but doing it in such totality and absolution that nothing remained even in the Force. Centuries later, Nihlus's teachings and methods were lost to time, partially from the difficulty in even attempting it, but mostly from the efforts of Darth Traya in eradicating it. There was very little risk that Karn would achieve anything resembling Nihlus's reach in time.
But still, it was a frightful lesson, one that had caused him to turn away from that aspect of the Force, or at the very least to use such abilities only in a limited fashion. It was a lesson so many sith fail to grasp, that in overindulging in the dark, they become a slave to it.
"Of course, Karn. A fond relationship." Nostos says dryly. "True, fraternal, relations within the Sith are a rare and unusual thing. If one studies our histories, too often our kind falls not from the resistance of the Jedi but from our own internal conflicts. It is a disappointing thing, and I would not have our enterprise brought to it's knees by such a.....predictable end."
"Though as for inquiries, that is a different matter entirely. If I were to hazard a guess, I would imagine that your apprenticeship at the Grand Praetor's feet run along the lines of combat, aggressive control of the force and other such lessons befitting the Order of Bronze." Nostos wonders aloud. "My inquiries are less physical, less worldly. You're right, in that the Tombs and Valley itself lie ransacked and empty, but the Cult of Mysteries are not only concerned with the fractured secrets of eons past. My inquiries lie around the philosophical, and is only minimally connected with your interaction with the Tuk'ata."
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Jan 24, 2020 14:07:46 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Jan 24, 2020 14:07:46 GMT -5
“That seems a safe assumption,” Karn said, ever wary of Nostos. “My formal instruction under Darth Viren begins tomorrow. But Strife often concerns itself with these things.” Often, but not always, and not only. Karn, ever aggressive, naturally gravitated toward more direct applications of the Force, but he knew well there were other ways. Plague — the very power he’d tried to use on Nostos when last they met — and its lesser variations could be employed in dangerously subtle ways.
Yet this was not the line of Nostos’ wondering, Karn knew, else he would have gladly offered to try the power out again on the Prophet — warning about predicatble ends or no.
Still, Karn couldn’t quite place where Nostos was going. A firebrand Karn might be, but he was an avid learner, from the hard sciences his people were famed for to arts, linguistics and, to a degree, philosophies. Yet the Prophet remained cryptic.
“So the tuk’ata were for your amusement then?” He asked, arching a pale brow as he glanced back over his shoulder. He assumed his fellows were doing alright. He hadn’t heard any screams, at least.
“Indulge me, Prophet, since we are here anyway, what philosophical questions do you pursue?”
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caelum
Omnia Mutantur Nihil Interit
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last online Oct 1, 2021 13:39:09 GMT -5
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Jan 24, 2020 23:59:07 GMT -5
Post by caelum on Jan 24, 2020 23:59:07 GMT -5
"No, you misunderstand, though that confusion is understandable." Nostos says patiently, his hands pressed against each other, placed against his sternum. "The Sith have been taught that indulging in one's base pleasures is strength, that to tear down those barriers to one's behavior is well and good. In a way, it is. To our kind, there is no should or shouldn't, there is only what one will do, and what one cannot do."
"But the Mysteries of the Force are broad, the pathways through it's halls as varied and unique as each traveler along it's halls. The methods by which Exar Kun drew upon the force and made his will manifest is different from that of Marka Ragnos and even more different from Darth Revan. The singular trait common to all Jedi are the stagnancy disguised as stability. They do not change, they do not strive, and while Jedi rise and fall they do so along the same hollow gradient common to their kind. The Sith are different. We are a mutable beast, each different from the other, and therein lies the crux of the issue."
Nostos's gaze moves past Karn, towards the Tuk'ata still present in the valley. A great deal of them had fled, their taste of combat sated, though scattered remnants still fought out of desperation. But more than that...
"The Sith find definition in conflict." Nostos observes. "The tuk'ata were a means to an end to understanding the next generation of our kind. Not my first choice, and certainly not my preferred option, but the will of the dark side is strong in this place, and when ruling over a beast as unruly and proud as that, one is incited to feed it scraps lest it go mad. Especially when it's will and mine run parallel."
The Prophet turns to Karn. "A group of dark side practitioners finding themselves in the Valley of the Dark Lords, surrounded by hungering tuk'ata. The presence of all that potential energy, potential conflict, bubbling beneath the surface. The dark side makes it's will known not through whispers and insight, but through acts like these, carnage and blood on the sands. I took that impulse and bent it in a more productive direction, rather than allow it to accumulate and fester. I imagine that left to it's own devices, the tuk'ata would have still attacked. Except perhaps they would have done so in the middle of a sandstorm, where all of your fellows are lost and confused, when they begin seeing things as their vision becomes clouded and untrustworthy."
"You likely still would have survived." Nostos considered. "I cannot say the same for your fellows."
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Jan 29, 2020 11:11:11 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Jan 29, 2020 11:11:11 GMT -5
“Of course,” Karn said as the Prophet began to speak. Nostos’ thoughts on the Sith were correct, though not a particular matter Karn had given active thought to. His relationship with the Force differed from the Prophet’s, just as it did from his peer, Janse. Just as Darth Viren’s talents and control of the Force differed from Darth Aurelius and Darth Solis and Empress Renata’s.
Still, he remained quiet as Nostos spoke on. A subtle smile tugged at his lips at the Prophet’s last words.
“I’ve survived worse than some starving Tuk’ata,” he said, failing to keep cocky pride from his voice despite the fact that the Archeri Chorus had nearly killed him. He flexed his fingers on the same hand he’d used to drain the life from the two Sith Hounds. Echoes of the stolen power still reverberated within him. “Conflict — strife — shapes us. It makes us who we are, and we all must endure it, overcome it, to reach the heights of our potential.” Karn tilted his head slightly, ivory eyes briefly distant as if looking inward.
“That was what my master said, anyway. My former master.” His throat tightened as he spoke of her. He cleared it and looked over his shoulder. “I can’t help but wonder though, if you wanted to understand the next generation, as you put it, would there not have been value in allowing the Tuk’ata to come as they would?” The Prophet was correct — the beasts seemed ready to strike even before he’d urged them to action.
“Perhaps they would have attacked us at a less convenient time, or waited until some of us had left to pick off a smaller group.” Karn folded his arms over his chest. He still wasn’t comfortable around Nostos — not by a long shot— but no longer felt the need to keep a hand by his lightsaber. Even so, he kept steady watch on the Prophet. “Conflict doesn’t always come to us on our terms. Even when it does, it seems to have a habit of escaping our control, anyway.” He sounded bitter at the last. Even a day later, his fight with Janse, one that he’d initiated and been humiliated in, was a hard pill to swallow. “Will of the Dark Side aside, might that informative? Even if some of my fellows fell to the beasts, what good would they be against the Republic and the Jedi if they can’t survive Korriban’s dangers?”
Karn’s expression turned momentarily thoughtful, then his eyes narrowed slightly. “Speaking of interest in the next generation, Prophet,” he started, a subtle heat on the edge of his voice, “why did you invade my mind yesterday?”
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caelum
Omnia Mutantur Nihil Interit
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last online Oct 1, 2021 13:39:09 GMT -5
Youngling
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Jan 29, 2020 17:02:16 GMT -5
Post by caelum on Jan 29, 2020 17:02:16 GMT -5
The boy was arrogant, which was to be expected he supposed. Karn's narcissism was fine, or at the very least matching the typical growth of an acolyte. Nostos imagined that he'd maintain that arrogance until he would meet a force he could not overwhelm with vulgar strength. Until he met an opponent that would grow with him, to test his mettle and foster that strength. The Force had a predisposition for balancing the scales, and the odds of a rival arising to test his mettle, Sith or Jedi, were high.
"That you survived at all is a credit to you." Nostos agreed. "Not with the Tuk'ata, but in your past. The Dark Side abhors weakness, your survival shows that you have promise, something that the Grand Praetor has seen in you. Perhaps the Valley wished to test you, or to test your fellows, and perhaps it would have done so at it's own time. Some, I'm sure, would argue that it would be best to leave things be. To let matters fall as they may."
"Those same people have forgotten a singular, primordial, truth to our existence." The Prophet almost sneers, his voice full of contempt. "In unlocking the mysteries of the Force, they see patterns, recognize signs and portents. Like how the savages of primitive worlds would see an approaching, dark, cloud and see it as a sign of rain. Those wiser among them recognize it would lead to a flood that would destroy the world that they know. They would seek to placate the rain, the storm. They would construct an air of mystery around it, obscure what they cannot understand as gods with whimsical wills and tempestuous temperaments. They begin to see the storm as something beyond them, as an alien, unknowable thing."
"The Sith are both subordinate to the dark and it's master, an uncomfortable arrangement. Where the Jedi serve the light without consideration of how deluded they are, we are the shamans of old, the masters of the storm. When the storm rages, we focus it's power. When the storm sputters, we fan the flames. To embrace the dark side fully, to subordinate yourself to it's will, is tantamount to spiritual suicide. It is to throw yourself at the mercy of the storm and believing that it would care about your submission, that it would care whether you live or die."
He had seen it, after all. The product of a being that surrendered itself to the dark side, abandoning it's morality, it's will, it's spirit at the altar of the storm. It had worn the face of a beautiful woman, walked in constant pain and bid him call it mistress, but Nostos knew better now. That drive to inflict and experience pain, to bleed subjects dry and bathe in their blood. Compulsions tending towards indulgent self-destruction.
Perhaps his mistress had not intended to be such a monster at the beginning. But intentions rarely factored into reality.
"I saw the storm brewing for you and your fellows, and so I took the reigns." Nostos said simply. "I fulfilled the will of the storm, but I did so in my way, with my vision, not the storm's. To allow the dark side free reign is unwise, and the outcome it would intend could very much be all of you dead, bleeding your life onto red sands. I am no Darth Malak, to wish and see mindless carnage for no purpose. I did not wish that, and so here we are."
Karn's final question caused the Prophet to pause, looking at the boy again. There was still tension here, resentment, even outright hostility, lurking beneath the surface. He did not surrender easily.
"An interesting question." Nostos considered. "I could answer that in half a dozen ways, but I'd know your intentions. Why are you interested in knowing?"
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Jan 30, 2020 15:32:04 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Jan 30, 2020 15:32:04 GMT -5
A pause. Karn wondered if he’d managed to catch Nostos off guard. It’d be the first time, where that truly the case. Nostos gaze had weight to it, studying Karn. Weighing intent. The Arkanian acolyte, perhaps emboldened by the combination of the Prophet’s compliment and the surplus power that still raced in his veins from the Tuk’ata, met Nostos’ gaze levelly. Almost challengingly, as if the man hadn’t laid bare the differences in their ability just a day before.
Perhaps it was the simmering anger at Nostos’ forced humiliation. Karn knew his place in comparison to the Prophet, but he did not forgive readily. Nor did he forget past slights. He wanted to take his lightsaber in hand, but resisted. As much as a primal part of him wished to leap at Nostos, he held no delusions on how it would end. And Viren was not here to save him.
Let the Prophet know he would not bow completely, but no more. There was no need to invite further pain unto himself.
“Is it so strange a question?” Karn wondered aloud after Nostos answered his inquiry with one of his own. “My master had already put me in my place. I was willing to concede that I’d made a fool of myself. And then you came along and went digging in my head.” His white eyes narrowed at Nostos. He could still recall the sudden impact against his mind, like being punched in the head through the Force.
He remembered struggling in vain to get to Nostos, then trying to fight him off through the Force. He remembered the agony of reliving his failure, the nightmarish hellscape that tormented him even into his dreams that night. For as much that Janse had dominated Karn in their fight through telepathy, Nostos’ torment made Karn’s fellow acolyte’s work look like child’s play.
The part that agonized him the most about the entire exchange, though, was his complete inability to stop it.
“I won’t say I don’t hold it against you,” Karn said. “You’d see through the lie anyway.” He realized his hands were at his sides, clenched to fists. The muscles along the side of his face flexed and relaxed in turn as he forced himself to calm. “But if it steadies you, know this, Prophet. I have no ulterior motives here. I simply wish to know why, if for no reason other than to understand your methods.
“I have assumed, through the night and morning, that it was cruelty for cruelty’s sake. But no,” he tilted his head slightly, “I don’t think it was. Especially after hearing your reasonings behind the Tuk’ata. Was it just to get a rise out of me? To gauge my reaction, test my strength? Did you want to see the wounds from Nar Shaddaa that still hurt me?”
Karn’s voice rose as he spoke. His hands shook with anger until he closed his eyes and took a steadying breath.
“Why?”
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