Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Arena Take Me Back To Eden | DSE




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Above a dead and forgotten moon, adrift in the blackened silence between distant stars, the Sepulchre loomed. This monolithic battlecruiser, forged in secret by the Emperor's loyalists and styled after the legendary Arc Hammer of ancient days long past. It serves as both warship and sanctum, a mobile fortress of the Dark Side Elite. Within its ironclad hull, beneath the brutalist silhouette of Imperial authority, lies something far darker.

Beyond the locked bulkheads and obsidian corridors, deep within its vaulted spine, the Chamber of Echoes stirs. A Sith Qabbrat, a meditation chamber crafted during the Core Wars by Ibaris Varanin Ibaris Varanin , becomes a hive of activity. Here, the Dark Side Elite are summoned, not by transmission or command, but by a call that trembles through the Force itself. They descend into the chamber's heart, where seated upon a raised plinth of scorched stone, their master awaits.

The Emperor.

Seated motionless, as if carved from onyx, his eyes lifeless yet all-seeing, like a cadaver dissecting prey from within. And yet, even in stillness, his presence swells. The moment the Emperor's Dark Jedi step foot within the chamber, a presence crashes over them like a wave of pressure. Suffocating, inevitable. An unrelenting force that did not ripple through the Force, but eclipsed it. His aura drags the world inward, like a black hole devouring light. The air grows heavy. Colors bleed pale. Light dims. And for the uninitiated, even thought becomes difficult, consumed by a chorus of whispers within their own thoughts.

To the unprepared, his presence is unrelenting. To the faithful, the Sith'ari is nigh divine. To the Elite, his shadow is renewal. Each one of their number having been blessed and emboldened by his power in a dark initiation ceremony. In the dark tide of his presence, weakness was stripped away. Inhibitions burned out.

Will made manifest.

Now, each of the Dark Side Elite was summoned once again to his side. Where a new member would join them and be bolstered by his power, undergoing the dark ceremony not seen since the Core Wars. New initiates would be brought forth to receive his power, and all others would bask in it's glow. In the wake of ceremony, a Trial of Echoes will be convened aboard the Sepulchre as a crucible for the Dark Side Elite, a test to sharpen their connection to the Dark Side before the coming storm and weed out any weakness left in his dark disciples. With the invasion of Coruscant imminent, the Emperor demands only the most resolute, unwavering weapons at his side. Only those who conquer themselves are worthy to lead the retaking of the Galactic capital.

This trial is no mere contest of saber or strength. Within the Chamber, illusions twist with memory. Fears take form. Guilt becomes weapon. And in the darkness the Elite must confront the truths they buried, the failures they deny, and the identities they have outgrown. It is not a duel. It is a reckoning.





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Credit to Sinestra Sinestra for the DSE art above. Long Live Bulgaria.​

 
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No words spoken for the time. This was the acceptance of a new member into the fold of the Dark Side Elite. The group in which formed of the members of the Force around the Sith'ari that is, My father.

As it was, this new trial would be set forth to bring any new members to us. To test them of their resolve and strength. I had one such one long ago. Testing my resolve in willingness to kill that which stood against us. Even taking his saber and forging my own of it. Bleeding his saber and forging the Saber Pike I now held. However, it was shortened and clipped to my side at the moment. I stood at attention beside my Father. His older and greyed hair off setting by his yellowed and Darkened eyes. His pale skin from the darkness and how deeply he had delved into it. To return from the dead even.

As such, I joined the other Dark Elite here. As a member of their own. Watching, learning, waiting for this new Zabrak Dathomirian to begin their trial. Keeping an eye on others who joined. All those who came to be at the feet of their Lord.

Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis | Ohsaku Ohsaku
 
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The time had come.

Khronas joined the procession of cloaked disciples as they filed into the black heart of the Sepulchre. A blanket of darkness descended on Emperor’s chosen as they silently moved into position around his throne, only their thunderous bootfalls echoing through the chamber. A gaggle of sycophants lingered at the edges of the chamber, hungry for the favour of their eternal ruler. And yet it was the Dark Side Elite, the true sons and daughters of the Sith, who would be honoured on this day.

The Siniteen gazed up at the obsidian throne, drawn to Sith’ari Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis . Khronas had turned his back on the Dark Empire after the failure of the attack on Coruscant and had devoted himself to the study of the Force while the snivelling Imperial warlords had fought between themselves for control, succeeding only in sullying the Empire’s name. He had wandered the corners of the galaxy, tracking down forgotten texts and immersing himself in ancient study as he delved into the dark recesses of the Force, forever striving to understand its mystical ways. And yet despite his efforts, that which was pursued recently had remained beyond his grasp, a mockery of his studies.

The complete and utter control of time.

But that was to change. The portents of the galactic chronology, hidden from sight by all but the most devoted, had led him back to the core, to the rising darkness that was the Galactic Empire. He had sought out the Dark Side Elite and pledged his allegiance to them. The Jedi, lost in their meditations on justice and theses on harmony, were blind to the truth - that their time was running out. And as a devotee of the galactic cadence, Khronas was destined to be present when the clock struck zero on the light side of the Force.

Khronas stepped forward with the other initiates and removed his hood, exposing his ridged Siniteen cranium. He felt the weight of his Sith sword on his hip - his precise calculations deemed that the time to build a lightsaber was close, but had not yet come to pass. He slowly dropped one knee and bowed his head, awaiting the start of the initiation ceremony.
 

|| TAKE ME BACK TO EDEN ||
Epiphany - Chapter 1

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TAG: Ashin Cardé Varanin Ashin Cardé Varanin | Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis | Khronas Khronas | Ohsaku Ohsaku | Olorion Fossk Olorion Fossk
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THE SEPULCHRE

Tayiji had arrived in The Sepulchre by his Evereni Raiding Corvette just before the initiation was commenced. A new soul is going to accept the Emperor’s embrace and bear the weight of the dream of an Empire so pure, so clean.

The Marauder never knew with the Emperor, what is coming next, who are tested now, every single time. But that does not matter to him. He is comfortable with the uncertainty; he had stared death in the eyes and survived, thrived even, for so many times. He go where the Dark Side flies, ravaging systems for holocrons and nexuses. And all the roads lead to Him. Tayiji is a barbarian, but he is a cultured barbarian. He does not build, but he worships marvels, and the Emperor not only destroys, He builds from the ashes.

Tayiji stands in the middle of the Qabbrat proudly in his Evereni fur coat, the dim light in the meditation chamber hides his pale features, but the cicatrized scars almost glowing on his chest. The Emperor’s might is deadly, a Force nexus in the form of a Dark Side God, can easily kill those who are unblessed. Yet in His presence Tayiji basked. His aura suffocates, but that makes his mind sharp, his reflex almost instantaneous. He fell to his knees, paying his respect as much as he is embracing the pain. Love humiliates, but pain cradles.

And today pain is going to engulf another new souls standing in front of the entirety of the Dark Side Elite, some for the first time, some reimagined by the Dark God. One young and raw, and the other wise and experienced. Whatever differences that was there; background, miles, and ambitions, all are ready to be the tip of the Emperor’s blade.

 
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Aboard The Sepulchre,
Location Unknown (902 ABY)


'Never seen a Mawite afore, naw? Step aside!'
'Yes, sir.'
[Hsssssssssssssss]
As the Khan stepped into (what he assumed to be) the Sepulchre's conference room, he was met with a rather ominous silence, but in an entrance made awkward from the offset, he could not help but ponder if this was a silence that prevailed before his arrival. Even failing to hold in a derisive, mirthful snort, Barran was resigned to consider the likelihood that protocol was restraining the other early arrivals, that decorum was keeping them from letting their guards down; the Heathen Saint had no time for such trivialities, but in order to play the game well, it was becoming clear to see that joining such collectives was one of few ways that assured ascension to newfound prominence.

Fortunately for Thomas, he would not need to search the room for his seat; or rather, not for long, as one of the Elite had recognised him, pointing the Khan to his reserved spot without uttering a word. In turn, Barran's wordless response would be given in a curt, though-respectful nod, though he was still smirking at the time, though Barran, to his credit, would return to a small-semblance of mannerly calm as soon as he sat down. However, it was in that same state of personal serenity when he saw all the meeting's early arrivals looking to the entrance once more, and it was then that the Khan decided enough was enough, drawling,
'Stop that, it doesn't make the others arrive any quicker.', as he reached into his inner coat-pocket for a pack of cigarras.

'My suggestion? One o' you breaks the boredom.... Or I will.'



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Shuffling steps and a gait assisted by means of a wooden cane supported the approaching Arkanian elder. His breath came with each step as slightly labored, but also hinted at excitement. The closer Prowler came to the presence and audience of his Master, the stronger and more invigorated his expressions and vitality became. Like a perverse inversion of spegettification, the elder stepped into the glorious event horizon and let his frigid presence in the force fuse with the splendor or his Emperor. A return to the source. The great abyss.

Such twisted power and darkness was known simply as home.

" All hail his majesty, Heir of the empire, the true Sith'ari and Emperor of the galaxy. Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis ." Prowler said aloud with a heralds voice. Augmented and carried on ethereal currents of the Force. The words themselves shaking and vitality rattling loose objects within the chamber. A force bellow, Yet as the elder ended, the name of his Master came out like a old man's purr. He bowed his head let his cane fall to the floor and lowered himself into a kneeling meditative position before prostrating his body in the form of a reverent bow.

When Prowler slowly rose back up ,his pale eyes shifted to the other darkside elite with a arrogant smirk and raised brow.

Tags: Thomas Barran Thomas Barran , @tayij Khronas Khronas Olorion Fossk Olorion Fossk

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The Sepulchre

The sound of his boots were silent, like a cat prowling the halls. His breathing, even. It had been quite a while since he had been back here and in that time, he had grown, advanced in his skills. From a young orphan to a powerhouse and ruthless killer, Talon's lips tugged into a small smirk before it dropped. As he entered through the doors, he could see others there and finally, sitting above them all, his Master, Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis .

The overwhelming presence of his Master brought a since of relief to the young man as he entered into the Sepulchre. Walking up and listening to Prowler II Prowler II 's voice echo within the chamber, Talon stopped. Bowing to the man seated above all of his subjects, Talon stood up tall and made his way to his place.

The feeling of the darkness swimming in his mind gave him peace and comfort from when he was a child training. Ruthless and cruel days, meant to prepare him for the worst, but days he would never forget. He would always owe his life to those around who stayed true to his Master and to the man himself.

A new soul would give their allegiance and devotion to their Master. The Jedi would know true fear when their ranks were emblazoned with new blood and those who saw the truth.
 

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