Death to the Weak [Coruscant]

[Ilom Medansh]

The Sith were meant to be a source of power. They were meant to be strong. But all he saw was weakness!

Coruscant, once a gem of the Republic, until it was claimed, taken by the Sith in a show of strength the Thakwaash could appreciate. So he had come, come to claim the training that would make him truly unstoppable, unbeatable. There had been many Temples and Enclaves to chose from. He had never been on Coruscant before, and so chose one at random. It had appeared suitably impressive, but when he entered little humans in robes had told him to kneel and pay them obeisance. These did not look like warriors to him. Nor did they sound like warriors.

Massive hand had come out and encircled the offending mans head. A challenge was issued. Stop me if you can or die. The pathetic worm had not risen to the challenge. His gore was among that which clung to Iloms fur. The primary was enraged that these Sith had turned out to be nothing, pathetic, but at the very least, the carnage and mayhem he was currently causing pleased him.

Priceless pieces of art, given by supplicants, by those who wanted to make sure they were on the One Siths good side, were destroyed. Limbs were rent from those who neither ran fast enough nor fought well enough. At this rate the entire Temple, small though this one was in the grand scheme of things would soon be destroyed, those who had been left to tend it likewise killed.

The weak deserved no more.

A screaming whinny let a would be assassin know what he thought of their jump from a balcony at him, blade in hand. Spinning faster than anything his size had any right to, the assassin was grabbed out of the air and swung into a nearby wall. Once, twice, three times. Dropping the limp body, a hood to the head ensured that any chance the assassin had of living was well and truly gone.

[member="Sage Bane"]

 

[Sage Bane]

Sage could feel that something was amiss in the Sith temple's antiquities room even before he heard the cries. The Sith Knight's sentient Vong-formed arm, the infernal limb that Sage was still learning to tame, sent urgent, hungry messages to his brain whenever there was blood being shed in his general vicinity. Not only did his amphistaves cause deafening psychic dissonance, but also sharp, wrathful pains all throughout the left side of his body. It begged to be free from its masquer and it wanted Sage to know it. Focusing on maintaining the shimmering Vong technology that masqued his monstrosity like a faerie's glamour, Sage ran-walked to the direction from which he heard the cacophonous din. It sounded like Acolytes were being ripped limb-from-limb. There were also some odd farm animal sounds amid the screams.

When he arrived at the antiquities room, the scene that Sage came upon was awash in gore. Sith Acoyltes lay bloodied on the floor in a display of wanton destruction, ancient works of art lay smashed and trampled, and in the middle of it all, stood ten feet of equine muscle and rage. Did someone's steed get loose from the stables? As the creature whipped his head around and regarded him, sniffing at him with large, flared nostrils, it dawned on Sage that the intruder was not a mount at all, but a sentient creature, a Thakwaash. A Thakwaash who was in the midst of massacring apprentices.

Sage's lightsaber hilt snapped up into his hand, the red blade igniting with a sizzle and hum. The Knight stood in a defensive position in front of the hoofed humanoid, his light brown eyes full of warning.

"Hey, Buttercup," Sage taunted. "Are you gonna stop? Or am I going to have to put you back in the barn?"

[member="Ilom Medansh"]