A Day Darker Than Most

[Prodigal]

Inclining his head out of deference as he shrugged off his cloak while Iniquitous summoned up Renata's sabers to an outstretched hand, Aeron wasted no time in gauging the situation; to rush in would be foolish but nothing was served by inaction either... Slowly encircling Iniquitous once the invitation had been offered, his own saber sprung to life as he softly spoke the words that had served as his mantra since his departure from the Jedi Order "Never take what is offered at first glance."

Forcing down the exhilaration he had felt when his new Lord and master had taken up the proverbial gauntlet, he buried the burning need to strike out quickly To challenge a Sith Lord is foolishness perhaps, but to resort to an undisciplined attack while doing so is madness Aeron... Watching as Iniquitous's sabers adopted a defensive pose, he slowly shuffled his feet in an attempt to give false impression; the tell-tale movements could decry him as a neophyte in this relatively unstudied form and as he slowly closed the gap through an almost clumsy encirclement, his actions reeked of Dun Möch despite any knowledge of the term. Whether through deliberate study of the tactic or by using it with subconscious effort, Dun Möch could snare the eyes and minds of the unwary into making assumption if they let it.

Quickly drawing upon the Dark side energy of this place as he closed the gap, he divested himself of any sort of duelists credo as the ebony tendrils of power burned through his veins and screamed for violence while he erected his own defenses... if this were to become something other then what it appeared to be, then he would hopefully be prepared for the worst that Darth Iniquitous would offer to him.

Having no illusions as to the outcome {even if he lost he would be satisfied in having seen the truths that the Dark Lord had offered through the acceptance of Aeron's challenge} his eyes narrowed as his opponent seemed to be as unmoving as the statues that still stood watch upon the burial plane. Wasting no time as he came close enough to strike, his body quickly divested itself of lumbering movements and moved with a quick and clean precision...

Allowing instinct and hard wired technique guide his hand instead of concern or doubt, the wide and yet controlled swing of his blade guided itself upwards toward the dual blades of his opponent. Moving at an oblong angle in an attempt to break the strengthened position of Iniquitous's stance via the proper combination of leverage and slight pressure, and thereby attempting to engage both of his opponent's blades, his voice was soft and his words spoken for Iniquitous alone "Why try to beat down a mountain Milord, when one can carve out a foothold for oneself at its base or summit for that matter?"

[Jerek]

Jerek listened absentmindedly to the hooded man's words. All the while his eyes glowed a solemn yellow. Behind the newly placed mask his features had been morphed. They were burned by a near fatal explosion. Shaking off the memory, Jerek continued to listen. The man announced himself Dark Overlord of the Sith. Darth Iniquitous was what he had named himself. Jerek's eyes narrowed at these words.

He turned his head, watching those who chose to simply follow blindly behind the Sith Lord, wherever he went. Jerek had agreed to come to the meeting. He had pledged nothing; and he certainly wouldn't pledge his life to some self-proclaimed Sith Lord. When those who thought themselves above the rest came to speak, Jerek barely resisted the urge to impale them on this wasteland of a planet. He watched as a mass of events took place before his eyes. They would probably serve as the only highlights of this meeting. A frail girl gave a prediction. Jerek thought for sure the Dark Lord would strike her down without a second thought.

No, Iniquitous actually walked up to the girl, touched her cheek and seemed to talk to her lightly. The girl had no eyes, and Iniquitous seemed to reveal what was under his hood. When he turned from the girl, Jerek saw that the Lord's eyes were useless. Nothing but two sockets filled with light blue eyes. He saw through the Force, as the young girl must as well. Jerek stepped forward a little through the crowd of Dark Jedi.

He felt a peek of emotions within the group as another rose from the stones. He had unclipped his lightsaber. He was challenging Iniquitous. Jerek listened to the challenger’s words. The winds of Korriban caught Jerek’s robes, rustling them and blowing red sand over his boots. He had his eyes turned on the two men concealed within the circle of Dark Jedi. He was near the two figures. Near enough to see the sweat on their brows. Perhaps it was from the heat or perhaps it was from the possible conflict. If the latter were to happen, Jerek would watch it intently. If this possible battle were to provoke any of the others, Jerek would defend himself.

The lightsaber at his waist began to quiver, then shot into the Dark Jedi’s hand. Although cool at first, the metal handle slowly was warmed by Jerek’s own body heat; it was very surprising to find out a human such as Jerek gave off any heat at all. He brought his weapon up to eye level a moment, examining it. The intricately crafted handle was a dull chrome color with black symbols upon it. The symbols were that of the clans of Tusken Raiders that lived on Tatooine, Jerek’s home planet. He ran his thumb over the handle, resting it upon the ignition button. He allowed his hand to drift to his side, his grip never slackening on the handle of his blade.

The yellow crystal that rested in the center chamber of Jerek’s lightsaber gave the actual blade an eerie dark yellow projection. The blade was familiar to Jerek whenever it was released from it cylindrical prison. Jerek could feel the blade’s thirst for blood. Its cravings of freedom. He silently quelled the beast’s cravings and thirsts. It would not bode well for Jerek to strike now. He watched silently as the two Dark Beings in the center of the circle cage of Dark Jedi prepared for a battle. No, not just a battle, but a thunder storm of energies and blades. Jerek couldn’t help but wonder why Iniquitous had summoned Lady Renata’s blades. He shunned his own thoughts and continued to watch. He slowly pushed his way to the front of the pack where he could watch more attentively.

[Chyresh]

Ithian rose from his kneeling position, he had been bowing to the Dark Lord of the Sith, a powerful man. As he rose he shook his head, the events had happened so fast his mind was barely able to keep up. He shut his eyes as the others continued to talk and let them play in his head so he could let his mind catch up.

A man in a black robe stood as a ship lunged off of the planet Nar Shaddaa, as the ship left the atmosphere then the intercom came on. "Destination Coruscant,” a man with a raspy voice spoke. Oh how wrong they were. Ithian's hunger had grown; he needed a full meal, not the pathetic criminals living in the under city of Nar Shaddaa. He let his hood fall off of his head as a lightsaber was activated.

Three people ran in terror, Ithian laughed as he let force lightening zoom from his hands and strike the three on the back, they fell to the ground in pain. "To weak to eat," he growled as he beheaded them while they were in their prone position. He spat on their now headless bodies. He quickly ran to the next room where he shocked a man cowering under a bench. Ithian dropped to his knees to feed.

As he rose a blaster shot was fired, but Ithian caught the shot with his blade, it sent the bolt hurling back at the man. He dropped just as Ithian turned to face him, he was dead. Three more emerged in the doorway where the carcass rested, Ithian rose his hand and shocked all three of them. They fell to the floor begging for mercy. Ithian fed on two of them and left the other to die.

The passengers on the small transport ship were all dead, but the pilot remained. He had locked himself in the cockpit; Ithian began to cut open his own door. The pilot was cowering; the smell of urine filled the room. He lifted his hand, but nothing came out. Instead the man was grasping his throat, a sickening crunch echoed in the room, and he fell over.

Ithian grinned as he re-routed the course to Korriban. His need for the feeling of corruption that devoured the planet was substantial. He needed to be around that dark presence again. After hours of waiting he was near the planet, but something felt odd. The planet had a much greater tempting atmosphere; it nearly suffocated his train of thought.

As his new transport ship landed on the planet he noticed a group not so far away, he felt a presence he had not in a long time. He was back in contact with the darkside. He was back with his 'family'.

As Ithian opened his eyes he noticed two people circling each other. They had lightsabers drawn, both were ready for battle. Ithian recognized one of them, it was the Dark Lord of the Sith, the other was just a Dark Jedi. Ithian shook his head as the man challenged the Sith Lord, Let the weak die first he thought. He would be in this situation too, but not now. It would be a great deal of time before Ithian would attempt to make his way to the throne of the Sith. He was powerful with the force, he might be able to even match the Sith Lord, but he needed to be more powerful. He needed to be sure that he would win the battle. "Never go into a fair fight," he mumbled to himself. This was his motto.

[kt]

(sorry 'bout the rather short post....don't got alot of inspirational juice flowin.)

Torran mearly watched on with a sense of mild disinterest, watching as more and more faces arrived. Without saying a word, Torran began to meditate, sitting on a nearby rock and floating up a few inches, the parts for his new lightsaber floating infront of him, slowly coming together to form a perfectly made curved hilt lightsaber, the entirety of it being made of mandalorion iron, a sleek ebony sheen was evident in it as well. It wasn't until he was finished that the Kel Dor looked up to see several dark jedi, none of them familar to him, bow down and pledge undying allegiance to the so called dark lord, not knowing anything about him beyond what he told them.

Torran rose to his feet silently and twirled his unignited saber around his hand before latching it to his belt, watching intently at what was going on before him, a random dark jedi was challenging the supposed dark lord to a lightsaber duel. Interesting... Torran thought to himself as he watched the battle unfold.

[Jenno]

(OOC: Some of you will hopefully enjoy the reference in the first paragraph, even if it is slightly paraphrased.)

Iniquitous stood steady and firm. Although his statue-like state revealed very little of his fighting prowess, there was a demon contained within. He was unpredictable in his actions; the next strike could be the most unconceivable one. He was as swift as the wind, as quiet as the forest, fierce like fire and steady as a mountain, all of these formed the ideal aspects of a warrior. This was not to say Iniquitous had mastered any four of these, but he was on the way. Lightsaber duels were not his strong point, as a child raised by his four masters he had been quite talented and able, but when he was blinded and left alone atrophy had conquered all he had claimed.

Orloran was helping him to further his skills in this area, his primary lightsaber instructor since his step into the ranks of the Sith. It had been a surprise, to say the least, to see the man casually loitering around the shelves in the Great Library, the only place Iniquitous really considered anything like a home. The Master had been willing to teach, claiming it to be his destiny, but when it came to the lessons themselves he was brutal, training was gruelling, his muscles would scream so much that Iniquitous feared they would explode in order to escape the pain. Although they were demanding, Iniquitous still had respect for those lessons and his teacher, his knowledge in the art of the saber was like nothing he could imagine, an encyclopaedia within his mind. It was true that Lord Everos also had knowledge on such things, but when one is not corporeal it tends to lessen the learning experience for the pupil. But there was one particular form Iniquitous had learned from the Dark Lord with glee, he practiced it often but rarely used it, and know he was beginning to wonder if this duel would call for such a skill.

From his defensive position Iniquitous watched as his opponent would try and feign a few movements. Perhaps, he thought, it would have worked on anyone else. However, Iniquitous saw beyond the feints, beyond the surface of any movement straight to its source. He could see the application of power as it stirred from the bottom of the man’s soul, even when his eyes would not deceive him. A feign was an imperfect movement, devoid of the true strength or speed no matter how skilled the warrior was, the Dark Jedi’s attempts to throw Iniquitous off merely seemed like a dancing show to the Dark Lord, a fact that amused him slightly. He just waited in his pose, the hybrid stance and style which few used. Of course, nobody else but Iniquitous knew the truth. He was not one of the few who could use should a style. A cross between Soresu and Jar-Kai? The Dark Lord knew neither form. But he knew the basic stance to every style, his Masters had taught him, at first only to recognise and the to adopt as his own, to fool his opponent he had perfected the stances to such a degree that he could make himself appear as a master of each style.

Deception was the key to any war, any battle or any duel. With this kind of deception came surprise and therein an opening, one which could potentially bring an end to the fight. And so when his opponent moved in to attack, Iniquitous acted swiftly and precisely. He retreated his left foot moving around the right hand side of his body, creating a nice pivot for the upper half to follow. Deactivating the saber in his left Iniquitous made a subtle alteration to his hold on the right as he turned, as his body followed his lightsaber connected with the Dark Jedi’s, it did not carry the brutish punch of Djem So or the protective glare of Soresu. No, there were only the subtle and gentle implications of Makashi as he aimed to parry the blade away from the user’s body before projecting the blade towards his adversary’s throat. Against many foes this fast movement would have left them with a hole in their throat, the alteration of stance in one foot fall as well as switching from two blades to one would hopefully give Aeron some thought for concern as he reacted. Iniquitous looked forward to seeing how this one would have come out of that manoeuvre.

He remained silent, unlike his opponent who seemed to want to dispense wise-cracking comments in the heat of battle, perhaps the swiftness of his blade would teach the Dark Jedi that a moment for words in combat must be chosen wisely, least it lead to the loss of one’s tongue.

[Marius]

She felt him bring his attention toward her, the familiar yet somehow significantly different presence in the Force that was the one Dark Jedi that Mariani had ever worked with and had not killed afterward. She didn't know what the small yet significant thing was in him, yet it was enough to change her previous evaluation of the man. He was clearly more refined, to say the least. But no longer did she consider him someone that she could freely use and kill if need be, rather, he was now a person that wielded some sort of power that she did not, a knowledge she had not found within the Jedi Order. That was enough to make her seriously consider getting involved in whatever he was involved in.

The series of events that transpired next did not surprise her at all, considering the above fact. Whence the man, a leader as she had been able to tell previously, moved throughout the assembled masses, declaring himself a Sith Lord, the Falleen held back the scoffing she normally put forth for people who declared themselves as such. During her more than five decades in the Galaxy, the ex-Jedi Shadow had experienced more than her fair share of dubious Sith, robed in black and speaking eloquently, their force powers and skills with lightsaber barely adequate for a Padawan, much less a Knight or Master. However, she would wait things out, and witness what happened.

The man addressed many of those gathered, touching one woman briefly, and firing back responses to others who were foolish enough to speak. Mariani did not need the petty assurances, nor the display of violence that the Lord was engaged in, taking the blades of a woman situated on the same rock. Her perceptions were more trustworthy than anything that she could see, her intuition was what served her so well throughout her life. It was the thing that had lead her to the fact that her Master had been slain unjustly, yet the Jedi Council would not act, even with her conviction and prior good sense. It was their lack of trusting in their selves that lead to such illusions, and fueled her hatred of them.

Mariani had no need to tell the man that she would follow, the whole way that she held herself, the air that radiated from her being, would be telling enough. She need not pledge anything so soon, not in the midst of all these people. Her alliances were private, personal. And if the man survived this battle, when the time presented it, she would offer it.

OOC: Sorry for shit writing.. I am usually so much better than this.. T_T Must be too much work..

[Prodigal]

As soon as the words had exited his mouth he knew that something had gone amiss. Call it premonition or even blind luck, but as soon as Iniquitous had deactivated the saber in his left hand, Aeron felt an icy chill creep along his spine. It was in that moment that one errant thought seemed to permeate his skull I am going to die. Watching events unfold with a bemused and somewhat detached mask upon his features as his blade was deftly parried away, the inclination to give into the will of the Force was stronger then he had ever experienced as a Jedi, and yet it’s siren’s call seemed perverted and overbearing; as if the energies of this place were ensuring that the one they had chosen would survive instead of this upstart Dark Jedi.

In that split second where time seems to stop, a conflict of emotions raced through his mind; hatred, regret, even fear. As to what true purpose Aeron could not say, but this maelstrom of feeling served its purpose by forcing him into action. As his saber began to deviate from its intended parry via Iniquitous’s gentle ministrations, his grip upon the hilt relaxed to the point where the hilt itself used the back of his hand to complete a full rotation, allowing his weapon to once again rest in the unorthodox grip he was oh so fond of.

Side stepping toward his opponents right during the movement, in an attempt to avoid the almost near-literal sword of Damocles {or saber of Iniquitous as the case may be}, his own blade was held almost tight against his frame with the pulsating crimson blade pointed downward towards the blasted earth, even as his opponent’s saber sought his throat…

Raising his dominant arm vertically as he allowed most of his weight to be transitioned towards his hind foot, Aeron’s saber didn’t smash into his opponents in an extended parry, but rather seemed to deflect the yellow tinged blade a hairs breadth away from carressing his flesh as it made contact with his own.

The illumination of both blades seemed to dance upon Aeron’s face in hideous motley, as the red and yellow seemed to masque the majority of his features with an indecisive flickering. With Iniquitous's second saber not yet involved, Aeron’s tactical decision was simple enough; if he decided to stay in such a precarious position then there would be little doubt as to what would happen next, the second saber would come into play and he would quickly be cut down. Exerting his will upon the Force to fuel his movements instead of guiding it towards his desired result in the atypical Jedi fashion, the slight hiss of his saber shutting down gave the only clue as he allowed himself to fall back into an extended roll.

Permitting the errant energies of this place to propel his wiry frame outside of Iniquitous’s physical reach, there was no smart assed remark or witty repartee this time as he adopted the archetypical stance of a Djem-So practitioner. By no means mastered, he had made a healthy study of the form as a prelude to the one he favoured. Slowly encircling like a Firaxen shark, he began to close the gap once more.... This time without pretention.

[sparrow]

Aeron,... what was the man up to? Zarene understood his need to ascertain for himself whether or not the Sith Lords had the bite to match their bark, but this was just foolish. Had the point not been proven when the Iniquitious had stepped up to defend himself instead of calling upon his lackeys to shield him?

Zarene's hand unconsciously began to move towards her blaster, but stopped as she looked around at the crowd of Dark Jedi around them watching eagerly, some already gripping their sabers tightly as if about to strike. Any aggressive action for anyone but the two duelists would undoubtedly plunge the entire gathering into a blaze of fighting and killing, like dropping a spark in a field of dry grass.

She felt a twinge of worry as she watched Aeron barely parry a strike from the Sith Lord. Fool! What good is it if you get yourself killed now? she thought angrily. Aeron was strong, and would be an asset to the Order, but only if he didn't get his head chopped off by one of their own first.

In addition, he was one of the few Dark Jedi she had met so far who wasn't completely unpleasant to be around. Of course, she hadn't met all of them yet, but still, that was saying something.

[.:Falcon:.]

Nirisi stood watching the events around her, dispassionate as to their nature. She did not care who won- whoever won would be the stronger of the two, and that would be the one she would most respect.

Maybe.

She had to admit that simply the sense coming off of the Sith Lord was strong, intoxicating, like a whiff of the power she had once craved, but been unable to touch. Of course, then she had been only a Jedi, unaware of the true nature of the Force.

Now she was older, more mature, more able to understand exactly what the orce was meant to do. But she still wanted the power. She folded her arms over her chest, and waited without moving for the duel to continue.

[Jenno]

(OOC: I apologise for my lateness with this a thousand times over everyone, life just seemed to sneak up on me from behind and kept me in a little box for a fair few days now.)

With the duel now in full flow the Sith Lord could not help but become transfixed upon his opponent. The Dark Jedi he fought was an interesting combatant; he was quick to react to the constant changes of battle, managing to avoid the humming yellow blade which would have happily claimed his throat. Although it was not Iniquitous’ intention to kill this man, to fight without the resolve to kill would insult his opponent more than serve his own cause. A warrior, as Iniquitous had come to perceive, would draw from the batteries of war continuously, the best adapting to their opponents. When confronted with life or death their senses will become sharper, their blade swifter and their attacks relentless. To deny a warrior this, especially one who had called for the duel, would dishonour him beyond the grave, unto the ever reaching grasp of the Force, he would know shame.

More than anything this duel was about respect, respect for the two involved and the respect which was to be earned from the outcome of the confrontation. If Iniquitous could not utilize an opportunity such as this then their plans would suffer.

Grace and fury collided with an eruption of lethal sparks, the two pulsating blades met for but a few moments before both duellists instinctively pulled away. Aeron had moved away swiftly, putting distance between them with an extended roll. Iniquitous on the other hand paced away with a few lightning fast steps. The Sith Lord was far from betraying the basics of his style; footwork could be utilized to a most devastating effect, to move with a swiftness which only reinforced the delicate and precise movements of his blade. And yet, that same movement could be used to withdraw from an attack quickly. Without the application of power which Makashi demanded, planting his feet into the ground was not necessary. Normally one’s movements would be much more cumbersome because of the strength which was needed throughout the entirety of his body, when one remained upon the balls of their feet they would break the chain of strength which they had gained from their connection to the ground.

It was all about sacrifice, strength for speed and manoeuvrability, ground for the opportunity of victory and security. The Sith Lord mused at his opponent’s silence during their circling gait; it appears that finally he was serious, no seemingly witty remarks with which to bolster one’s confidence whilst slandering the opponent into a shadow of self-doubt.

Even for him there was little chance to let thoughts wander, he needed to focus on the fight, a trailing imagination could very well be the death of him. He kept on his toes, saber pointed to the ground as he carefully shuffled forward, teetering towards the steep cliff of combat. Aeron seemed begrudging to act first in this new bout of theirs, perhaps it was time Iniquitous pressed the first attack. Slipping forward as stealthily as he could the Sith struck like a cobra, his fang glowering with a scowling yellow, one which would burn with the ferocity of a thousand poisons. His first lunge went for his prey’s right should, a move which would most likely render his arm useless, or at least leave him with a sharp pain every time he tried to move it. But with a quick roll of his elbow Iniquitous was bearing his saber down upon the now, hopefully, exposed outward side of Aeron’s right arm. Finally with a quick pivot the Dark Lord swung the blade over his head bringing it down to the left side of the Dark Jedi’s neck.

He was starting to get the hang of duels now.

[Daren & Donald Kail]

(OOC: Sorry I'm late...hope I haven't missed too much to catch up )

The heat and exhaustion wasn’t even on Daren’s mind as he walked across the desert. Xavier was in horrible shape and he had no other choice but to leave him. He was being drawn away from him towards another part of the valley. There was a great force gathered there and he wasn’t going to allow it to slip away. His hood blocked most of the dust and grit from getting in his eyes as he stumbled across the desert. His body begged him to stop but the drawing power would not allow it. Daren knew he was getting closer, the dark power of the planet was incredible here. The energy was converging at this one location, he looked over a hill and finally saw it. A large group had gathered a Dark Jedi gathering of incredible power. He gazed across the valley and saw a man in black robes over another the man’s blade was placed at the neck. Daren couldn’t help but laugh,
“Death all around.” He walked down the hill and greeted the rest of the group with a smirk,
“I believe I am late.” Daren observed them all collecting what he could by how they watched the events of the battle unfold.

[Grawn]

"Just slightly Daren", remarked Grawn as he watched the duel before him being done. The Sith Lord was more than a match for the Dark Jedi whom sought to test him but it was rather amusing to see the display before him. He glanced at Daren whom had just arrived to the event at hand.

The Dark Jedi seemed to have changed little since their last encounter but physical appearences can belie the power beneath. If that was the case, only time would tell. While Daren remained unscared from the events on his last trip to Korriban, Grawn had. The cybernetic arm that was now apart of him like his organic arm was a testament of his strengths and his weaknesses along with being a constant reminder of his failure at the hands of the jedi Ryn Sundar. But he would exact his revenge on that whelp another time, now it was time to watch, listen and learn.

His yellow eyes went back to the duel between Sith Lord and Dark Jedi, waiting for the conclusion that was inevitable to come.

[Lucilius Solo]

Anastasius Solo, had arrived in the Valley of the Dark Lords, about a day before the meeting had begun. He was practicing with one of his practice droids, when he felt a pull from the Force. It wasn't a pull from a Jedi, no, it was a pull full of corruption and anger. The pull of a Dark Jedi, and perhaps even one stronger than that.

Anastasius headed to where he felt the power, and to his amazement he saw the largest clustering of Dark Jedi he had senn outside of the old holocrons his foolish Master had shown him. Anastasius smiled, when he remembered when he had struck his master down on Naboo, and left to make his mark on the galaxy. Now was his chance.

Anastasius sat through the meeting, and heard this Darth Iniquitous tell his tale and his plans. When the Dark Overlord became silent, Anastasius pledged his loyalty with the others, but didn't drop to his knees. He would follow Iniquitous, do his bidding, and aid the Sith, but at the moment he wondered of the Dark Overlord's power. Anastasius knew it was not a title given to just anybody, but still, he had not seen Iniquitous in battle. Only then, could he truly respect the Dark Overlord.

For now, he decided to watch and prepare himself. As he watched, he remmebered something his old master had told him long ago. "Always watch the movements of your friends, allies, and enemies. For three reasons, your friends won't always be your friends, your allies could turn on you and try to kill you, and your enemies could become your friends. Be prepared for anything, after all treachery and betrayal has been the way of the Sith for millenia."

The Dark Overlord's blade could turn on Anastasius, to test him, and see if he is indeed worthy to be part of the group. Then again perhaps not. Anastasius pulled the hood up over his face and watched intently.

[Cam]

Lord Asriel had decided to come to Korriban several days before the meeting, it was the closest thing he had to a home, he felt happy and warm here, it was very comforting. The dark side energies the planet posessed and omitted where so soothing to him that he always hated whenever he had to leave the volcanic planet.

He had been walking through the Valley of the Sith Lords when he'd felt the pull from Darth Iniquitous, and felt the gathering of several powerful dark side users, and a large amount of weaker ones. Interesting... he had thought to himself, and thus began the inner-turmoil as he tried to decide whether or not to even attend. For the most part he despised every person in the galaxy, he'd only met a few who he had any respect for, and those few he'd killed rather maliciously. But now with the amassing of this many Dark Jedi....it seemed something big was in the works.

Thus he sat through the "meeting", listening to Darth Iniquitous declare himself the new Dark Lord of the Sith, and then watching the rift in the group as some blindly fell to their knees, and others kept to themselves, obviously doubting in the new Sith Lord's power, he even watched as one man tried to challenge the Sith Lord, this brought a small smile to Asriel's face beneath the Sith mask. He could sense how severally mis-matched the man was, even if he couldn't, and watched as the Sith Lord began to prove this point to him.

"Idiot..." he muttered, the first words he'd emitted throughout the entire meeting, loud enough to where Aeron could definately hear his words. He didn't care if the man took offense to the words and tried retaliation, the man could try and would be met with the same resistance he was now finding in Darth Iniquitous.

This whole meeting in itself was starting to grow very boring to the Dark Jedi Master as he rested his head back against the wall to continue watching the duel unfold infront of him. The blood-red glow pulsated softly from beneath the eye holes of the Sith mask as he watched the men duel, though his mind was elsewhere. He was mentally probing at the room, diagnosing who was of value and who was simply fodder, and found there was far more of the latter.

(Terrible post...I'm thinkin' my muse called in sick today or something..)

[Prodigal]

As his opponent advanced, another individual made a comment in that condescending tone which marked one as either blinded by their own vaunted power or better still; passing judgment on something by assumption rather then actual information. In either event Aeron deigned to answer as he maintained a static almost blank expression to his features while the dark-side effectively used his body as conduit.

With energies rising from the blasted earth and toward his navel, then to his arms and by extension his digits, a cold voice seemed to whisper sweet nothings into his ear as he entered a silent communion with the energies at play Pay no attention to the blade, mind his shoulders...The whispered words seemed to emanate from the dark places in his heart where lust and anger dwelled and yet in his mind it made perfect sense..

As Iniquitous quickly closed the gap, Aeron seemed to almost passively keep step with his opponent in a mercurial fashion as his movements and reaction times seemed hampered by a cold indifference to the outcome; but in Appearances place no faith...

This lax stance was no trickery on Aeron's part, nor was it a sense of defeat that so many expected; even as his saber hung in loose Djem-So, the enraptured look upon his features violently shifted as the primordial energies he had drawn into himself were unleashed in a paroxysm of action. As his opponent's shoulders betrayed an imminent attack, the simplest movement also became the one most useful. Instead of parrying the bizarre combination of feint and attack that Iniquitous had deftly committed to, Aeron's saber snapped down simultaneously in a tightly controlled arc toward Iniquitous's cowled pate in an attempt to force his opponents hand. On equal footing it would leave an opponent with his/her head cleaved in twain, or force his opponent into blocking the inevitable strike by either adopting a two handed grip or by placing both sabers into play.

This was no Holo-vid and equal opportunity had disappeared the moment Aeron had stepped foot on Korriban; who knew what would result from this brazen attempt to end his opponent? Even the wielder of the saber didn't realize the technique as the Planet, the people, and the circumstance began their sweet and yet deadly seduction...

[Midnight]

Halcyon Lorlan, young Dark Jedi Apprentice, had arrived a day earlier than the meeting also, with her Master Cygnus. She practiced in the ship of her Master, until they both felt a tug in the Force. She felt the opposite of the Jedi, she felt death, anger, hate, famine, and war. She liked it, it seduced her.

She followed her Master as they headed for the power, to discover the largest gathering of Force Users she had ever seen or felt. The Dark Lord told his tale, and she listened intensely. His story was interesting, a long tale of hardship that had brought him to his current Force might and title. She wondered if her Master felt the same way she did. Was he attracted to the power and darkness as she? She made a mental note to remind herself to speak with her master later.

[Jerek]

Jerek continued his steady gaze as the battle unfolded. It was not a flurry of rapidly moving blades as he previously thought, but a sluggish crackle of blades tactically spun or slashed at their opponent. He sighed after a few moments. It was growing boring watching this "duel", if you could call it that. Jerek's breathing sounded heavy and metallic through the three slits on each side of his mask, offering him the oxygen that filled his lungs, pushing him onward to someday be powerful.

His lightsaber remained warm in his hand. He was so used to it that it as if it wasn't there. But, he could feel the urges within him. He could actually hear small whispers and commands from the dark energy pouring from Korriban. They urged him to draw first blood in the throng of dark beings. The whispers steadily grew louder. Every fiber in his body soon was against him, trying to force his thumb to ignite the deadly blade. He remained in control, however.

His black boots were covered with more sand from the barren wastes all around. He flicked each foot once, clearing away the accumulating dust. The battle was growing too boring. He turned on his heel and pushed his way out of the circular cage the Dark Jedi had formed around the battle. Even as he walked to a nearby stone, Jerk could still hear the crackle of two blades locked in mortal combat.

He knew, however, that the two men fighting weren't fighting for blood, but just to prove who could best the other and how many times. Jerek reached a rock maybe a meter or so away from the masses of Dark Side practitioners. He sat down on it, crossing his legs, after clipping the yellow eyed beast to his belt. He closed his eyes behind the slits that allowed him to see through the mask and began to go into a kind of trance.

He concentrated on the invisible energies boiling up from Korriban's surface like so many tentacles of a much greater beast that remained hidden. The winds around him continued their relentless whistling and small buffeting affects. Soon Jerek heard neither the wind nor the crackle of lightsaber combat. He fell into a meditative trance, allowing Korriban's energies to engulf and envelope him. He felt powerful here, but now wasn't a time to strike against any of his "allies". His breathing slowed a little.

He slipped out of hi meditation, sensing the battle was about to cascade. He stood up and walked torward the battle. He shoved his way to the front yet again. He looked on at the battle. He could sense something about to happen. He fed on it like a hungry predator feeding on its first kill of the day. His eyes grew into two giant spheres of yellow, resembling suns, suns filled with hatred, anger, and malice.

[Jenno]

Power. It was easy to surmise that all this duel required was power, strength through the force and strength of one’s blade. Yet it was this strength of the blade that Iniquitous lacked. How then could he win this duel and best his opponent, someone versed so well in combat, this Dark Jedi had brushed aside his meagre attempts of an attack. The Dark Lord’s training in the use of Makashi was still too incomplete; there was nothing he could do against the sheer brute force brought into play.

His opponent attacked with a large overwhelming blow, one which the Sith Lord had no doubt would leave him in two smouldering piles should he fail to properly defend himself. There was little time to act, he cast the saber in his left hand to the ground, he was not properly adept at using it and if he were to falter... That was a risk he was not willing to take. Instead he chose simply to take hold of the beaming yellow blade with both hands and rushed to meet the coming attack. He planted his legs into the ground and raised his lightsaber above his head to meet the attack. His body had to become one solid entity in order to prevent the crushing blade from claiming his life.

Unruly strength collided upon the fortifications of Iniquitous’ defence, his muscles burned and screamed under the pressure and strain, but he demanded their endurance, he was not willing to give in. Their blades ground together, screeching at an unnaturally high pitch, such that it would ravage the ear drums of those around. And sparks burst forth continuously from the wailing blades, as if they burst from the explosive centre of a supernova, there seemed to be no end.

Neither one of them was ready to give in, the crimson and yellow pulsating blades had met and now ground against one another, determined to best their opponent. They had come to a deadlock. For moments they were evenly matched, blades inching up and down in equal measure. But as Iniquitous had predicted, Aeron was stronger than him. Slowly, against the Sith Lord’s failed attempts of resistance, the blade loomed nearer and nearer, the glow of crimson acting like a brutal foreshadowing of his demise.

However, in a fight like this Darth Iniquitous was not prepared to be bested so easily. Strength, as the Dark Lord had come to believe, was not the path to victory in combat. No, strength was simply a blanket which covered the eyes of mortal beings; the stronger they were the further they believed themselves from death. How foolish they were, whilst strength could make things easier and simpler, a superior mind, resolved skill and well laid out plan could overcome the most brutish and savage of opponents. It was this reason Iniquitous had not learned the style of Djem So, why he could not match his opponent in strength. Because that was not how he would achieve victory.

As the deadlock continued, Iniquitous let the fires of the Force within him expand beyond the physical limitations of his body, he could touch the sand, dirt and rocks of Korriban and move them with the smallest of thoughts. Even though he failed to draw from it, he could also feel the black flame of Korriban which burn beneath the surface of brittle rock. All these were visible to Iniquitous, some in more ways than others. But there was one focal point for his concentration, an item he had discarded only a little while earlier. The smooth and cylindrical tool went unnoticed upon the ground, only a few paces from the struggling combatants. It was around this lightsaber that the Dark Lord’s thoughts became wrapped.

Had Iniquitous still used his eyes, he may have revealed his intentions with an instinctive glance, but there was no movement upon his face except the grinding of his teeth beneath his tightly clasped lips. It was a gentle and eloquent movement which lifted the lightsaber from the ground, slow and purposefully. It turned and pointed at the combatants like a cobra exposing its fangs. The positioning of Aeron’s blade was ideal, the top of his lightsaber hilt was perfectly exposed, this move would bring victory whilst leaving his opponent completely physically unharmed. Where it hovered in the air the lightsaber soon began to rotate full circle, slowly at first but with each rotation the speed increased until it was ready to pounce.

Like a bullet from a loaded gun the lightsaber hilt fired its way through the air, heading straight for the almost bested Dark Lord and his Dark Jedi adversary. It moved in a perfect arch and would pass just above Aeron’s lightsaber. And as it flashed across the Dark Jedi’s eyesight the blade ignited and sliced through the hilt of his lightsaber, the top of which now fell to the ground, sparking and useless.

No doubt with the amount of pressure he had been placing on the blade the sudden removal of this force would place the Dark Jedi off balance. To avoid any collision, Iniquitous stepped to the side and moved his blade, homing in on the Dark Jedi’s head. And to the other side, the previously discarded and now ignited lightsaber floated in the air, pointing directly at Aeron’s neck.

“I believe this duel goes to me” Iniquitous said, returning to the calm state which he so frequently donned. “You are strong, your blade swift and fierce, yet that is not enough. You possess instincts and intuition beyond that of most, but your strength blinds you to their full possibilities. Find yourself, friend, and you will discover the potential within you that is crying to escape.” Lowering the blade in his hand and releasing his grip upon the lightsaber floating in the air, Iniquitous placed a hand upon the Dark Jedi’s shoulder. “I believe you have yet to tell me your name, I’d very much like to know it. And whether or not that was enough to sway your mind.”

He waited for a response and, once it came, with a respectful bow of his head he pulled away and moved to address the Dark Jedi who surrounded him. “To those of you who were not sure of me, let me tell you that this man was not weak, he possessed skill beyond that of most who are gathered here. I say this not to boast my own ability, but to relay to you the strength which the Order of the Sith commands. I am but a man, it is only the teachings of the Sith which make me more than that, they allow me to see beyond the vision of a man, grant me power beyond anything I might dream. This is what I offer to you, the chance to become something greater, as a part of the Order.”

He paused for a moment, examining the faces of some of those gathered around him, their expressions full of self-confidence. It was a hard task convincing Dark Jedi that they lacked strength, for they were those who thought themselves greater than even the strongest of foes, he would have to overcome that. “For those of you who still do not feel satisfied with my display, then you are free to challenge me. However, upon defeat, your head shall be forfeit. I do not have time to waste on the pretentious, only those who seek true consolidation, and for those people, that duel should have been enough. Now, I believe there are some who have yet to give me their verdict, will you join the Sith?” He stood with his hands in an open gesture, exposed and inviting. He hoped no one else would seek to fight because he had grown weary of combat; the amusement was exhausted for now. And he would keep to his word; decapitation would prove a most useful tool for those who were considering challenging him and wasting what time they had.

[Chyresh]

((Haha, 100th post WOOT!))

Ithian grinned as the battle began. It was a waste of time in his eyes; the longer they waited and proved their strengths the longer their weaknesses would show. Unity at this point was the only way to make it to the top, and to conquer the galaxy. This was their only chance to began planning of a new sith order. The longer they waited the more jealous everyone would get. Unlike Ithian, most of the other people here would die off at a younger age then him, he could live on for centuries, growing more powerful each year. But the rest of them would die off so they would try to make their mark on the galaxy as soon as they could.

Ithian would wait, now was not his time. He needed to help construct the new Sith Order, maybe in a century he could lead it, after two he knew he would be more powerful then anyone in the galaxy. Time was the one thing Ithian had on his side. He could use the other Dark Jedi, and Sith present to make his way to the top, they just didn't know their lives would soon be at stake. To gain the power he needed he would have to feast upon them. Gaining their connection to the force. The new Sith Lord would be a target, but not for a while.

Ithian would have to make his way through the ranks before he dared to challenge this man. He might never even get the chance to. But now was not the time to worry about that. His time would come, but later rather than sooner. Ithian grinned as he noticed that Iniquitous was not one who was very skilled with a blade. His connection to the force was much stronger than Ithian could even comprehend. He nodded to himself as the battle raged on.

Iniquitous was able to gain the upper hand on this Dark Jedi, but this was not a surprise. Ithian had half-expected the Dark Jedi to even be dead by the end of the duel, not just licking his own wounds. As the battle came to an abrupt end, he smiled. Iniquitous had won, and Aeron was now standing, the humility alone could destroy him. As Iniquitous concluded his speech once more Ithian spoke up. "Congratulations on successfully wasting all of our times. Even if you were able to defeat this man how would that help us in any way. Right now we do not need the most powerful man with a blade to lead the new Sith Order. We need a leader of action, someone who has a plan and is willing to step forward, sacrifice anything in order for it to take effect. We can't waste time pondering over who is the most powerful.

The longer we wait the weaker we truly are. Being quick with a blade and creating chaos amongst ourselves will lead to our downfall even before we begin." Ithian stopped he had made his way in front of Iniquitous, "I, Ithian Naklay, pledge myself to you," He said loudly enough for everyone to hear, "I will no longer stand by and watch the Republic rule the galaxy. They are as weak as the Jedi, and as ignorant as their teachings." Ithian was trying to stir the crowd up a little bit, and mentioning a much hated enemy would surely do just that. "Not only will any future challenger face you, but they will face me as well. Any who have a death wish I ask to step forward now," he yelled out once more as he rose.

[Synth]

After leaving his home in Onderon, for the first time in months, Ilia visited Coruscant then moved from Coruscant to Korriban. Ilia had begun to stagnate; his body would rust due to inactivity. His early memories of the galaxy and of the many worlds he visited with his master seemed to call him. Ushered by fate and moved by destiny, Ilia followed the will of the force and decided to indulge in the bitter-sweet white noise that the dark-side introduced into his mind past the confines of his sanity and privacy. The call and lure of the dark side reached Ilia, beckoning him to deviate from his original path home. On a quest for knowledge and better understanding of the force, Ilia arrived on Korriban hours before the six Sith would begin their 'official' meeting with the Dark Jedi that, like Ilia, came as they were called.

Ilia allowed the force to flow through him. It led him down his ship's ramp and onto Korriban's surface. The planet was saturated with the Dark Side; it was a beacon of darkness throughout the galaxy. Ilia could only feel awkwardly comforted by thick Korriban winds. They seemed to slap him with each thunderous howl as they moved through the desolate plains. The ground underneath him seemed physically stable, but it seemed to writhe and squirm under his steps with a palpable tremor. As he was led to the spot where the six Sith stood and the Dark Jedi gathered, Ilia understood that tremor was nothing more than the vibrations of the Dark Side itself fluttering at the planet's core.

Darth Inquitous introduced himself not long after Ilia's arrival. His words were tossed into the air like daggers; they were venomous, injecting themselves past the skin of whoever heard them. The toxins spread throughout the victim's veins, fooling them into believing every word as it came. Ilia took it upon him to bear the burden of having a little faith in the Sith... he saw the opportunity to greatly benefit from them by joining the order. Perhaps, in the process, Ilia could solidify his views on the force, once exposed to a code and dogma not biased by his defunct Master's old Jedi teachings. Perhaps, in the process, Ilia could actually learn, and grow from the experience.

The events that unfolded after the speech- only happening after the necessary pawns were present - seemed, at best, ironic. Here they were.... Sith, advocating order for the sake of chaos. And despite the contradiction many of the Dark Jedi swore alliance, boasting their skills and dedicating abilities blindly, almost. Ilia remained quiet and offer no word, no comment. Even as a Dark Jedi walked forth with his saber flourished, and another challenged the Overlord with a riddle, he remained silent.

The Sith humoured the Dark Jedi and in the process proved his worth, establishing his superiority over the rest of the dark jedi, proclaiming himself 'Sith'. It would be hard not to acknowledge Inquitious' authority over the dark jedi that were present. The duel was over quickly and Inquitous once again addressed the public...

“For those of you who still do not feel satisfied with my display, then you are free to challenge me. However, upon defeat, your head shall be forfeit. I do not have time to waste on the pretentious, only those who seek true consolidation, and for those people, that duel should have been enough. Now, I believe there are some who have yet to give me their verdict, will you join the Sith?”

Crossing his arms under his chest, Ilia sighed and ran through the archives of his memories. Such a short day had fed him too much to digest. Inquitous' words were filled with ambition and wisdom, without the shadow of a doubt, they were promises, fragments of light illuminating his perception of a possible future with countless possibilities. Ilia nodded his head, quietly reaching accordance with those Dark Jedi around him that chose to follow Inquitous. He offered no comments or information about himself, his past, his abilities, or even his name. Everything was bound to fall into place, he thought.



Ilia, offering an unspoken and unconditional agreement to follow the Sith Order, awaited further instruction. Comments were unnecessary, opinions were too. Dark Jedi like Ithian would only succeed in portraying themselves as arrogant and/or prideful. The only words that mattered were Inquitous'.