We Are Here [Primeval Post-Invasion]

[Boethiah]

"Empires fall and history judges them for the legacies they leave behind."

Ziost. Gateway to the Empire. Here is where the Sith Empire truly began, a place that is blighted by darkness and uplifted by its unrivaled power; a place where the Sith could live unchained.

Soldiers march across the rocky, snow-covered turf in droves. Their lines extend beyond the range of eyesight, their numbers obstructed only by the smoldering wreckage scattered about. Starships above, massive in size drift slowly over the Citadel, their shadows covering the city below with only the smoldering ash visible throughout the darkness.

The snow outside still fell and a heavy breeze carried the flurries across the open fields within valley. The gusts howled as they entered the cracks and crevices left in the walls, the fresh wounds from battle. A soft light engulfed most of the rooms but some few were completely concealed within the black. Inside Citadel itself A soft light engulfed most of the rooms but some few were completely concealed within the black; deep within its walls and throughout the many winding corridors were libraries, catacombs, and chambers of various purposes could be found throughout. One such chamber was a singular room, a grand hall filled with tables and chairs. Here Anja and her company gathered to celebrate their victory.

And victory celebrated was much to enjoy... Yet something ominous took hold, something quite unlike anything witnessed before. A feeling of watchful eyes and the soft breath of death brushing against the back of your neck. Clearly Ziost was not left untouched by the legacies it left behind but perhaps this was more than the emergence of ancient Sith spirits being released from the clutches of Jedi who held them prisoner.

What secrets lie within the shadows of Ziost?

Spoiler: OOC

Last time we didn't really do that much with our post-invasion thread. This one is different... For the ordinary, uneventful dinner party celebration has a surprise twist You can probably gather the nature in which this thread will follow based on the last paragraph.

Feel free to explore the Citadel. Find its ancient libraries, dusty closets, and the secret hot tub chambers. Get creative!

[member="Bellatrix Celvina"] | [member="Spencer Jacobs"] | [member="Darth Vornskr"] | [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] | [member="Hades Michae"] | [member="Isabella Denko"] | [member="Mishk"] | [member="Warok the Defiler"] | [member="Kiber Dorn"] | [member="Lucianus Adair"] | [member="Damien Daemon"] | [member="Reine Bisset"] | [member="Theseus Reneun"] | [member="Nyx"] | [member="Sage Bane"] | [member="Darth Pyrrhus"] | [member="Adekos"] | [member="Vengeance"] | [member="Kana Truden"] | [member="Kiran Vess"] | [member="Token Waters"] | [member="Condor"] | The Primeval | One Sith allies

 

[Matreya]

Damien arrived clad in the same set up as during battle; Beskar'gam, Cater Coat followed by his Warden Cloak. Underneath his coat was his Gunbelt, still housing at least a dozen grenades of fun assortments. Strapped to his belt was Kalligs lightsaber, then on his back was Tantibus.

A few may end up pondering him arriving in full battle garb; it was as simple as having exhausted himself during his battle with the Jedi Master.

Taking a seat near the Host Lord, Damien nearly snarled he was so irritated. The feeling of his Talismans of Concentration, the power to match a Master and sometimes beyond, was addictive. Because of this, he lost a battle in the second Invasion he took place in. It had been over 6 years since a decisive victory during one...

Shaking his head, Damien cleared away such thoughts then gestured to a nearby servant girl who bore an array of food. She raced to his side, seemingly terrified to the very bone, "Do not worry child. We are not here to kill you." Damien muttered as he began to peck at the food.

 

[Bolt]

A deep black mass swirled to life in the same hall as the Host Lord. It writhed and twirled against itself, as if alive. Appearing from within these shadows as they slowly dispelled, was a man a few would call handsome - the rest called him gorgeous. His attire and person were hidden through a shadow like mist that spread to reach several feet about himself. Even the lantern behind him hardly shone through.

The Master of Light and Shadow had decided to finally make himself known to the Primeval.

What were his motives? Was he alone? None could tell save those specializing in certain abilities; even then it took a great concentration...

Zaiden raised a hand, to which flew a chalice from a table nearby. Accompanied by it was a large pitcher of Spirits, from this he filled a hearty glass.

 

[Caulder Dune]

THE SITH CITADEL
ENTRANCE HALL

[member="Darth Carach"]

Light streamed in from the massive holes that had been punched through the ceiling. The drop pods that had caused them had since been moved, but several shallow craters still dotted the room. The main entrance hall of the Sith Citadel was in shambles following the battle that had taken place here. Scorch marks littered the walls and pillars that lined either side of the room. The large doors had been burst open. It had rained earlier this morning following the battle, and so now the entrance hall was damp and humid. The craters had filled with water. Adekos' opponent, [member="Romeo Sin"], had miraculously escaped the battle. His Drakons were not so lucky.

Now that the rest of the citadel had been cleared of hostiles, the Gulandi that had accompanied him set about gathering the dead. Their own casualties were neatly arrayed in a dry corner of the entrance hall. The Drakons, meanwhile, had been slaughtered to the last man. Their armor was unceremoniously stripped from their corpses and piled haphazardly in one of the water-logged craters. Adekos hadn't told them to do that, but for some reason the Gulandi found it amusing. Adekos was just thankful his mask prevented him from detecting whatever stench rose from that pile. He was fortunate enough to be given command of some Gulandi for the battle, but wouldn't presume to order them around now that it was concluded.

While this went on, Adekos lounged about on a fallen pillar, idly fiddling with the activation switch of the Soulsaber. He didn't have any other orders aside from guarding the citadel from any insurgent counter-attacks. The Umbaran was lost in a reverie, up until a Gulandi marched up to him and announced Carach was here to see him. It looked like Carach had survived yet another battle, and Adekos wasn't quite sure if he should be relieved or annoyed at the fact.

"Carach? Oh. Right. Yes, let him in." He said, sitting himself up properly. And then, when the Dark Lord's Voice finally arrived, "Come to swap war stories or are you looking for another holocron?"

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]THE SITH CITADEL[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]ENTRANCE HALL[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.6666666666667px][member="Adekos"][/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Snow crunched beneath his boots. The Darkside had a peculiar effect on its worlds: some were wrecked with unnatural draughts that ended with Korriban and yet here… it had concluded with a world that was covered by eternal snow, tundra and ice. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]His cowl helped with the rays of the sun, but even still the Sith had to suppress his want to narrow his eyes. It was the Darkside, a parasitic source of power that seemed to be seeping into his very being just by [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]being[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px] here, and it fascinated him. After all those years the planet was still saturated with dark energies.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]It made him wonder why the Silver Jedi had come here, didn’t they realize that simply by being here that it made it so much easier to lure them away from their pure, vegan lifestyle?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]His Royal Guards entered the hall first and lined up, sticking to the two halls. Some looks were exchanged between them and the Gulandi, but eventually - as it was made clear that no hostilities were going to… commence - both entities settled into a familiar pattern of pretending to ignore each other as intently as possible.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]“Not quite.” the Sith Lord replied simply, yellow eyes noticing Adekos himself on the pillar. He had actually been on Ziost before when billions of sentients had disappeared and opportunity had presented itself. While everyone was either rotting in hell or busy trying to hold civilization together Carach had descended upon the undefended world of Ziost… [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]saving[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px] the host of artifacts, holocrons, scrolls and other Sith curiosa that had existed on the planet.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Systematic reclamation before the Silver Jedi could arrive and destroy the Sith heritage.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]“I heard that you kicked some fella that calls himself the… uh… Shadow Prince? - or whatever - from one corner of the Citadel to the other?” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]A smile appeared.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]“That must have been satisfying.” [/SIZE]

 

[Caulder Dune]

[member="Darth Carach"]

The Umbaran clicked his tongue. "Is that who it was? I would've worked it into my Dun Möch."

If Adekos recalled correctly, there had once been a 'Shadow Dynasty' squatting in the furthest reaches of the galaxy. A useless government filled with useless people. That certainly explained the presence of Drakons. He rather wished that the Shadow Prince had stayed to finish the fight, in that case. With that upstart snuffed out, it could have spelled the end for any more appearances of more defunct 'Shadow Dynasty' drivel on the battlefield. Now he would doubtlessly appear somewhere else. Maybe with more Drakons, maybe not. Adekos looked forward to butchering them again, but only if the opportunity presented itself.

He wasn't about to go out of his way for someone calling themselves a 'Shadow' prince, of all things.

"It was hardly satisfying. He sat down in the midst of the battle; I shot him in the face. The Gulandi and I finished killing his men, then when I had turned back around he was gone."

Adekos looked over to where the Shadow Prince had seated himself in the middle of the fight and gave a contemptuous snort. A truly foolish thing he had done, and it ended up costing his men more than it did him. There was nothing else to be said about it beyond that.

"What about you?" He asked. "Maim anyone interesting?"

 

[Mishk]

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"]


As the dust settled over the citadel very few even took notice of the small body being hauled to the side on top of a pile of bodies. Mishk had stood by his masters side during an extremely intense battle with a jedi master of great status.
They barely managed, the spirit and body of at least Mishk almost destroyed in the process. But, never the less they had endured and their opponent ad been forced to retreat with the rest of the defenders as the tide had been overwhelming for the forces of the silver coalition.

Mishk was shaken, dried up, and afraid. Trembling he did his best to push himself away from the pile of bodies so that he would not be crushed or suffocated as more bodies were tossed on top of it.
Too weak to utilize the force his life held onto a thin thread of pure madness.

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

Slumber, slumber had taken Zambrano when finally the Jedi was forced into retreat. Although neither could cull the other, Zambrano was not left without his wounds. The icicle that had pierced one of his eyes had long since melted, and open wounds littered his body from the fight. He held his vongsaber in hand, with a tight grip... while his other hand was severed for now. A long gorey trail marked where the Hutt had travelled out of the Citadel. It was the pain, that caught up to him, and forced him into unconsciousness. He had drawn perhaps too heavily from the darkside, and now paid for it in slumber.

He was not far from the bodies that piled over his Jawa apprentice, who was weak and struggling. The Primeval probably assumed the pair were dead given, his grievous injuries and rotten stench, along with the gore and bodies that surrounded him anyway. They just piled more bodies on them, assuming this is where the pile would logically start, given that so many were already piled here.

Zambrano hardly moved from his spot, unaware of the outside world... and perhaps he was dreaming... or having a nightmare. Who really knew what went on inside that bulbous twisted head when those eyes closed? Not many knew, if any did. The question here however, was who would tend to whose wounds? The Master, or the Apprentice?

[member="Mishk"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Adekos"]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Carach snorted - didn’t even dignity it with a response, because in the end Gerion knew the truth just as well as he himself did. The Silver Jedi hadn’t quite been… [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]spunky[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px] in their attempt to defend Ziost from the Primeval. Most of their people had been the lone padawan or maybe a knight, if someone got really lucky. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]No, most of the Jedi had been too busy fighting off an ocean of opponents crashing into them. In the end the Voice had been forced to simply being [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]content[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px] with taking over a little outpost not far away from this very hall. It had been used as some sort of… rallying point for the few uncontested Jedi, a point where most resistance had stemmed from.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Hadn’t been hard to break it though. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Prisoners aplenty too.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]“No names, just an endless river of featureless faces.” the Sith Lord finally added. “Though my men did manage to capture a host of prisoners. Not quite sure what to do with them yet though.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Maybe they could ransom them? Though Carach doubted that the Silver Jedi had anything of value to offer him. Perhaps some kind of experimentation then… [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Oh the possibilities.[/SIZE]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"If it were me, I would end the lot of them and be done with it." Wafted a voice from the shadows of the citadel, the bearer of which quickly made himself known as he seemingly melded from out of the shadows to stand in plain sight. He was still dressed in the armor he wore during the battle, the armored plating marred by the damage inflicted on it sometime earlier, but the Sith Lord didn't seem to care very much. A heavy pendant hung from his muscular neck, the corsica gem embedded in the middle of the otherwise unimpressive circular hunk of silver shining brightly even in the gloom that surrounded them.

At his side hung the hilt of his lightsaber, and across his back was sheathed the great runeblade Derriphan, it's whispers ominously echoing in the minds of those too weak-willed to resist such seductions. The Sith glanced over his two compatriots with a wry grin, his eyes burning with hate that was not directed at anything specific.

"But that wouldn't be productive, would it?" He said with a haunting chortle, a jab mostly directed at Adekos.

[member="Darth Carach"]
[member="Adekos"]

 

[Mishk]

The air was so dry, so hot. Maybe this was the breath of the undead? Maybe their lungs would help him get more air? The thoughts sped through Mishks mind as another corpse was tossed upon the pile. He was now burried beneath mutilated dead people of all kinds.

The thought gave him comfort. He would be dying amongst friends. He took another swing at breathing but it barely helped and he realised the end was near.

Then there was that buzz again. Mishk wet his lips and tasted the air with his forked tounge. The wasp crawled up on it. It started to gnaw on the thin piece of meat and Mishk realised that he was not in a poor position at all. Dead corpses, friends of his were gathering to help him.
He withdrew the tounge and bit the head of the black wasp, sucking on its meaty fluid. It gave him some strength. Not much but enough to open his mouth wide and bite hard into the leg that crossed his face. It was cold and felt leathery as cougolated blood burst free in small cascaders of protest. Then he began to gnaw and suck empoering himself enough to be able to command the worms who crawled down his sleeves and attached themselves to his veins in his hand. There they began pumping him with dark energies to mend his body, to resist the detoriation.

Forcefully he punched his little fist through the swollen belly of the man laying on top of him. It reached open air. Mishk could feel a gust. He also felt metal. A circular tube... it was a lightsaber hilt.
Without thought or concern the jawa lit the saber and thwirled it around and around, laughing and giggling like a mad man. The corpses around him started to collapse, to fall apart, tilting over each other in a macBre scene as finally, Mishk saw the clear nightsky and air rushed down his throat.

He would live. Friendship was indeed important and Mishk knew deep inside his little twisted black heart that without his friends this would have ended poorly.

There would be some time, possibly hours, before the evil jawa managed to crawl out from the pile. Carefully attaching the lightsaber hilt to his belt he then dragged himself on all four toward what was the remains of his beloved master, [member="Zambrano the Hutt"]

Seeing the state of this beautiful and loving creature caused such pain in Mishk that the battle earlier had been nothing close. The dark master must live on, that was all that the jawa knew and recognized. Slowly and not without effort he climbed the massive hutt, dark prayers of the forgotten gods of the Primevil crawled from his lips as the god of death must see the wrong it would be to accept this creature.

With full intention of sacrificing his dark energies and his pathetic body the jawa ended his climb at the maw of his dying master. There he most willingly started to press his body inside, his mad mind focused on the dark prayers to spread power back.

With tearful eyes the apprentice felt panic and true fear of what was to come if he would fail. His mad chanting rising above, carried by black insectoid wings. A black spiral of wasps that hurled itself high above the roof tops to hastily turn downward againg spraying themselves over master and apprentice - pushing the life out of the praying jawa and into the depth of the black hutt.

 

[Caulder Dune]

[member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Darth Vornskr"]

Before Adekos could venture a response, a familiar voice interrupted them. Darth Vornskr himself sashayed out of the shadows, urging the slaughter of whatever prisoners Darth Carach had acquired in his little skirmish. True to the typical characteristics of Zambrano's, Kaine was still armed and armored to the nines. As if he was expecting a gaggle of Jedi Masters would leap from the citadel rafters at any moment. As if they could be that lucky. Adekos chortled mirthlessly when Vornskr jabbed at him. "Not necessarily."

"The galaxy has enough soldiers. If the ones you encountered were undisciplined enough to surrender- or even unskilled enough to let themselves be captured for that matter -then they probably aren't even that good at soldiering to begin with. No sense in keeping them, they likely don't even have other skillsets. Not to mention that if they're willing to sign themselves up for this Sanctum's little 'volunteer militia' or whatever they call it, they're undoubtedly not going to be open to the suggestion of working for any of us. Now, you could convince them more forcefully, but... Brainwashing takes too long and yields mediocre results, at best. Mediocre results before it inevitably backfires, I should say."

Surely no one had come here looking for Adekos to give a lecture on what to do with captured soldiers, but since Kaine had broached the subject... "Now, in other scenarios I would probably release them. Let them go home and spread tales of how merciful I am. Give them some food for thought. I've come to realize, however, that releasing soldiers unfettered just sees them return to duty. Fighting wars is already expensive, no reason to replenish the enemy's troops for them. You could ransom the prisoners individually, but most of them come from working class families. Why else would they be soldiers? The ransoms would need to be chump change if we actually wanted them to pay up. I doubt they'd even cover the cost of transporting them."

"Well, you could try and ransom them directly to the Sanctum's government. That could produce some fun results. You'd need to feed, house, and just generally keep them alive while the Silver Jedi meditate on whether or not to pay up, though. You'd be lucky to break even once the costs are tallied up. You could save money on food and storage by carbon freezing them, but Bespin's a long flight away and fuel is expensive. Again, transportation fees. There's also a chance they'll die during the freezing process and, again, they could very well return to duty once home."

One of these days the galaxy at large would learn not to even allude to things like 'production,' 'efficiency,' and 'logistics' when Adekos was sitting within earshot. The Umbaran was close to finishing now, and looked between Carach and Vornskr as he continued his long-winded explanation.

"If you wanted to get crafty with it, you could use them to set up a trap. You know, erect some stupid prison camp on some desolate moon- just defended enough to pose a challenge but not to daunt any potential liberators. Then issue the ransom demands, coupled with video footage of the prison they're held in with just enough visual cues for them to guess the location. When they arrive, spring the trap, et cetera. Those sorts of traps are expensive to set up, yet the blow to morale is priceless- if it works." Adekos paused and took a breath, finally arriving at the point. "However, I think we've all got better things to do than that, so ultimately you're probably just going to want to kill them."

Adekos himself had been granted custody of forty-seven Force Sensitive prisoners. Silver Jedi, the lot of them. By and large most of them were Knights, but he believed one had attained master status and there were a few other padawans in there. Adekos didn't intend to keep all of them. His nefarious aims called for some rather gruesome experiments, and even if he was something of a vile person, he had no desire to apply them to women or children. There were some depths to which Adekos fancied himself unwilling to sink to.

Speaking of depths, he had almost forgotten to mention. "Oh, and you'll want to kill them humanely. Organs are quite expensive on the black market these days, but only if they're intact."

 

[Isar]

A nearby bit of rubble moved, revealing it was not a bit of rubble at all, but a diminutive ewok caked in the dust of pulverized concrete. Still wearing the trappings of war, barely distinguishable beneath the layer of grime, he shambled forward.

The cold here is alive. Seeping into me, trying to leach away the warmth. Its claws gently caress, lulling me toward sleep. But I cannot sleep.

Warok looked up through the skylights made by crashing drop pods.

The air is awake with voices.

He turned toward the three other beings. He knew them all by name. [member="Darth Vornskr"], [member="Darth Carach"], [member="Adekos"]. Three lords. Two emperors. One Sith. Or were they still?

Why did they jest, did they not hear the screams of the spirits, wailing for release? Warok could feel the dead just beneath the surface of the citadel. Sith from a bygone era, their bones preserved in ice. A singular malevolence.

The warlock's fur rippled. He shook off the dust and eyed Adekos. Harvesting organs. Ransom. He thought too low. But that was ever his way. He had no stomach for greater works.

"Give them to me," Warok rasped. "Give them all to me... and I will give you an army."

From the partitioned rooms came two Drakon warriors with jerking strides, their armored bodies mortally rent and torn beyond anything mere humanoids could withstand. Their helmets were gone, lost during the fight. One was missing his jaw.

They stopped behind the ewok shaman at a gesture from his paw. An eerie green light glinted in their empty leers.

 

[Bolt]

Zaiden found himself growing unnaturally bored. He contemplated conversing with the Host Lord, but that seemed a thing for a later time. Currently he simply wished to acquaint himself with the people of the Primeval. Since his time of return he had been far more sociable, if that was a proper term. More like teaching, while wanting to still kill everyone. There was only so much evil one could rid themselves of.

Climbing from his seat, Zaiden placed the chalice he had been using next to the jug of spirits, bringing the shadows back in upon himself in a vortex similar fashion until he vanished from sight. As he moved through the hall, he tapped the pressure button on his neck which slid his helmet into place piece by piece. Soon enough his Recon Armor's HUD came into view, but he ignored this, as he was using his Force Shadow for guidance.

Turning into the Entrance Hall, Zaiden paused a moment. Unless he was mistaken, one of 4 people gathered was a man that had been present when he attempted to assassinate the Thronebreaker. Zambrano he believed was the name. The others seemed to unidentifiable to attempt more than simple observations...

He wondered what they were speaking of so he stayed in the same vicinity. Casting his strongest Force Cloak into place, with the augmentation his suit allowed, he felt secure in his going unnoticed.

[member="Warok the Defiler"] | [member="Adekos"] | [member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[SIZE=10.6667px]Slowly but steadily the hall was starting to grow in presence. And with every voice that rose, with every sound that echoed through the hall… Carach could [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px]almost[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px] sense the illustrious history that was embedded into the very walls of the ancient fortress. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px]He had always been more in tune with the esoteric sides of their art and so it came as no surprise at all that the Sith could practically see the ghosts of yore wander through the hallways. It made him realize just how much the Sith had really lost since those days, and how even though the One Sith was ruling the core? [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px]They were doing while sacrificing their ancient roots.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px]Worlds like Korriban, Ziost… worlds like Dromund Kaas and more. They were the heritage and source of their history. But the One Sith did not control them, hadn’t even set foot on them because of their insatiable desire to see the Republic brought down to heel.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px]Perhaps a mistake after all.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px]“I could certainly give you the blunt of the prisoners, Lord Warok.” Carach finally replied, after mulling over the insights that each Sith Lord brought to him. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px]“But I think I shall keep the Jedi prisoners for now. Perhaps do some experimentations on them and see what comes out of them.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px][member="Warok the Defiler"] | [member="Adekos"] | [member="Razor Shot"] | [member="Darth Vornskr"][/SIZE]​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"We should swap notes, Carach. I've conducted my own series of experiments with those virile in the Light Side of the Force, and it's quite a wonder to see their bodies and minds pushed beyond their limits and into the unknown." He spoke with a wry machiavellian smirk, clever and sinister all wrapped into one rather disturbing overly-toothy grin that further enhanced his already scarred and ugly features. Combined with the frigid and gloomy environment they mingled about in, and Vornskr could look positively frightening to those who were not accustomed to his queer mannerisms and psychotic personality, but luckily for most involved they had dealt with him on multiple in-depth occasions. His gaze fell down past Carach and Adekos to the small furry creature that had appeared demanding the prisoners for his own twisted desires, promising them an army in return.

He remembered the creature, as fleeting as his memories were from when he did, but he did remember him. It was during his time as a restless shade, milling about in the realm between realms while he slowly regained his strength. The creature known as Warok tried to bind him, unsuccessfully, but still he came chillingly close. It was a reminder of how weak and vulnerable he truly was as an ethereal apparition, which caused him to hasten the creation of his new body and transfer himself into it's fleshy confines. But still, his skin itched in close proximity with the Ewok, and Vornskr's brow furrowed in anxiety as he looked down at the small body.

"Hrmmghrm." He grumbled in annoyance, but didn't say much to Warok.

[ [member="Darth Carach"] [member="Razor Shot"] [member="Warok the Defiler"] [member="Adekos"] ]

 

[Caulder Dune]

[member="Warok the Defiler"] | [member="Darth Vornskr"] | [member="Darth Carach"]

No sooner had the last word left Adekos' mouth did an Ewok shuffle in, a pair of reanimated Drakons staggering behind it. There was no mistaking Warok when he appeared. There were no other Ewoks wielding the most obscene powers of the Force to speak of in this galaxy. Normally the other, unnamed presences in the room would be rather unnerved by the sight of shambling corpses. Their bones were clearly shattered, limbs all but useless, one's jaw was missing, and their eyes shone with an unnatural green energy. But the Gulandi and Carach's honor guard had doubtless stomached worse sights, and didn't so much as flinch. On the other hand, Adekos found the whole display repulsive, and just managed to avoid gagging when he saw them.

"The undead hardly make for reliable infantry." The Umbaran cleared his throat, trying to cover up the fact that bile just then rose up in it. "Good for fodder and psychological warfare, certainly, but to compose an entire army of them would be-"

Carach interrupted, vowing to dispatch the most of them to the Ewok's custody. So uncivilized. Carach then alluded to experimenting on his Jedi captives, which was something Kaine evidently enjoyed. Adekos assumed that the two were operating under different definitions of the word "experiment." Vornskr probably wanted to play a game of "how many times can I stab this Padawan in the neck before she bleeds out?" What Carach had in mind probably involved his usual tricks of the mind. The Voice of the Dark Lord had developed more esoteric tastes as of late, so Adekos doubted any legitimate scientific research would be going on.

Adekos balked. "I can scarcely imagine what groundbreaking research could come from torturing the lot of them to death. I on the other hand will be spending my Jedi captives more productively. Using her holocron as a guide, I intend to recreate the infamous Metanecron that once served Darth Mekhis."

 

[Isar]

Black fires burned within the tar pits that Warok called eyes. He grinned at [member="Darth Vornskr"] and Lord [member="Adekos"]' unease. One stemmed from the soul, the other from more materialistic views. Only Carach, that yellow-eyed philosopher-king, seemed to regard Warok's proposal with any seriousness. The warlock stared at him, but found the lord of transcendent thought too enriddled in his ivory mind-tower. Of how to piece that puzzle, Warok knew little.

The potentate of science was far easier to decipher.

"What advancements? Research. Cures. New forms of biological weapons," the ewok giggled, "You know this, Pale One. Just as you know that the Re-Awakened are more than grass for trampling. Loyalty? Absolute. They need no food, no water. They do not sleep and they do not breathe. Like a fungus, they feed on death. Every battle swells their number, win or lose."

Warok waddled forward and poked Adekos in the upper thigh twice for emphasis. (He could not reach his chest).

"Necromancy, as you call my art, defies the spirit of eternal-gloom itself. What can your Met-ah-ni-cron do?"

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Bolt]

Zaiden felt himself smile, a cold darkened thing. The fuzzy little beast was right. Undead were the perfect soldiers. Even given enough time, they retained some uses in weaponry and the like. Why else would Zaiden have created the massive army he had so long ago? They were simply to useful.

He noticed the immediate signals of dislike from two of the men there: one seemed aimed at the fuzzball himself, the other couldn't stand the undead it would seem, thanks to the looks given them. The third however went utterly unfazed by the whole bit, to which Zaiden almost chuckled.

It should unnerve someone to see a vile little thing such as the Ewok walking about with control of the Undead.

Had Zaiden not been of the same ilk, it likely would have bothered him to some degree. But long ago the sight of shambling figures, and the miasmic scent of rotting flesh, stopped mattering to the man. One simply grew comfortable, well not quite so much, around the things they saw a lot.

Speaking softly, his words carried around the Hall in a Force driven echo, he said, "The fuzzball is right. Making the Undead is a useful tactic." Why he had spoken he couldn't understand; it was an urge he had hardly fought.

[member="Warok the Defiler"] | [member="Adekos"] | [member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Darth Vornskr"]