A massive cataclysm has struck the universe, and destroyed most everything in its wake. The survivors are now trying to pick up the pieces, and figure out exactly what has befallen them. Gather together, lightsiders!! The darkness has shattered the peace and calm of the galaxy...and they will do anything to stop anyone from finding out exactly what has been done! This is our first sitewide RP plotline. Lightsiders, you are looking for the source of this massive event. Clues must be found, lackeys tracked down, and bits of memory discovered. Darksiders, you guys don't want that to happen....because of the one behind the whole thing is furthering his ultimate goal. Mandalorians, and non-force users, you guys can decide where you stand on this line....do you side with the Jedi, and try to discover the reasons behind the ruined universe, or will you side with the darkness, and protect those secrets. Will the secret of the cataclysmic reaping be kept under wraps? Or will the Jedi and their allies find out the truth? Your RP and writing will decide the outcome!
BATTLE ARENA
Welcome to The Saga Continues. We have a section called the Battle Arena. Here you can use your characters to fight other characters. Hone your skills and see what you are made of. Don't worry, anything that happens here, does not effect your characters in posts, so if your character dies, you can still use them over and over. Have fun and check it out!
The Saga Continues is the product of the mind of ADMIN ADI; all contents are copyright their original owners. All characters belong to their original creators, and may not be used or replicated without permission. All images are copyright their original owners. This skin Operation Mindcrime was made by pharaoh leap of Pixel Perfect and put together by ADMIN KRYSTAL
Abaddon laughed - the nerve of this man. He was either fearless or stupid. Perhaps both, a truly dangerous combination. His words would say one thing, yet his posture and actions would heavily contradict their meaning. "Your actions tell a far different tale than the words that slip from your mouth."
This man came across - Abaddon - as someone who felt they were owed something. An entitled figure of sorts and that did not bode well for the future. At least not for this man whose name was unknown to Abaddon, nor did Abaddon care to learn it at this point. "If you really knew who you stood before, you would not question who it is that I believe I am. If I were of a particular mood, that would be means enough to extinguish your soul from its worthless existence. But . . . as I am not of said mood, I will give you the opportunity to prove yourself worthy of what is to come." In a instant arms shot down with palms opened and facing the small man. The hilt of a lightsaber shot into either open hand and ignited in a classic snap-hiss. In the right hand, a crismon blade sprang to life - the quixoni crystal it was fitted with enhancing his own Force abilities and strengthening the blade's power a significant degree. In his left hand, a blade of a golden hue jumped to life. Fitted with the rare vexxtal crystal, any being struck by it would be subject to the corrupted aura it left behind. Both weapons had been masterfully crafted over the years and were EMP shielded and fitted with Bifurcating cyclical-ignition pulses, making them waterproof.
His eyes glistened as a foul omen among the darkness that corrupted the air around them both. His muscles tensed and his heart raced with the excitement of what was to come. He relished this moment, for in moments like these, it would be easy to tell just the kind of man someone was.
"Pathetic," Abaddon thought to himself as the man made no move to even ready himself for combat. Truthfully this man had to be truly brave, stupid or both. No man in their right mind would simply stand there as a Dark Lord of the Sith and Sith'ari - as he'd been called in some circles - readied themself for an assault.
The dark aura that swamped the room swirled and seem to draw into the large Sith Lord - corrupt and utterly menacing. Death hung heavy in the air and even the cold stone of the chamber seemed to call for it.
In a flash, Abaddon's left hand shot forward, send a rippled through the room as an immensely powerful Force Push was hurled to the small, fragile man. If it were to connect, it would send the man into the stoned wall behind him and pin him there. The aim was not to kill the man, but rather a a minuscule show of shear force. And with the fact that the man just stood there and had not readied himself for any form of combat, the likelihood that he would be able to effectively dodge and/or counter would be extremely small. This was especially sure with the level of mastery that the Dark Lord held over the Dark Side of the Force.
But Vastator had readied himself for combat - he had drank in the dark energy of the Force even as Abbadon had still rambled on. As the blast shook the walls and the floor, Vastator used his own force push.
It could not be compared to the sheer power of Abbadon, but it was far more cunningly designed. Bending the Force to his will, he created a wedge and projected it in front of himself, knowing it would cut Abbadon's attack in twain.
At the same time, he raised his right hand, made a gun with his two fingers, and a small bar of blinding white energy shot forwards towards Abbadon's head, crackling with menace.
With a quick and sudden head movement, Abaddon's head tilted toward his right, allowing the finely tuned burst of lightning to zip past him and crash violently into the stone ceiling. A wave of dust and debris sprung from the point of impact and filtered out to a small portion of the chamber.
The acutely manipulated force against his own push had been brilliant with the man knowing just how outmatched in force technique that he was. However, the shot of lightning almost seemed to be an insult to him, a sign of either the man's belligerence or confidence. Where Abaddon could respect the quick thinking to create a wedge in his own attack, the insult of the minuscule shot of lightning was infuriating to him. If the man wanted to see the true power of Force Lightning, Abaddon coul show that to him, but he was a man who enjoyed to play with him prey but he ended it. He would feed off the thrill of the fight and actually gave him pleasure.
Curling his fingers on his outstretched arm, now, Abaddon manipulated the Force into a grip now, attempting the squeeze the entirety of the man's frail frame. It was a Force Crush, but Abaddon was not applying its full power, for if he did, this little man would be dead in an instant.
Abbadon's grip was brutal, and Vastator was outmatched in sheer offensive power, but rather than despair, Vastator thought. He used a similar trick as before, concentrating the force into a telekinetic bar and using it in an attempt to simply cut a hole in the Force Crush. While it was, again, tiny on comparison to the sheer night of Abbadon, it was also concentrated into a very fine area, whereas Abbadon's power was spread over a broad surface. A simple application of pressure. Should it succeed, he would simply step through the gap and out of the Crush.
Quietly, his greatest skill whispered through the back of his mind. The battle precognition spoke of what could be, as well as what had been and what would be. Abbadon had made a choice to toy with him, but the Force had whispered of his other potential attack.
"I would not recommend using Sith Lightning, Darth, you may regret it." Either lightning or lightsaber, that is what Vastator hoped to be used against him next.
"Ri ratya iw sis sûtma." The words echoed across the room in a dialect of High Sith having been believed to be dead for centuries. There were few who'd be able to recognize it in this day and age and even fewer that would be able to even understand what he'd said; Abaddon could count the number in the Universe who could speak it on his hands. "For such a puny man, you seem to enjoy reaching beyond your station. If I really wanted it, you would be dead already and there would absolutely nothing you could do to stop it."
Abaddon released the grip now. This insolent whelp wasn't worth his time right now, but he could be of use to the new order. His habit of finagling his way out of things could at least serve a purpose, but what that purpose was, was beyond Abaddon currently.
With a wave of his hand, Abaddon dismissed the man. He [Abaddon] would contact this feeble man should the time arise in the future for it, but for now, he only wanted the man out of his presence and his site.
He cocked his head lightly. Interesting. This creature was amusing - he substituted skill in the Force for sheer absolute power. He folded his hands in front of him, amused even more by his anger.
"I am a Dark Lord of the Sith - my station is where I deem it to be."
He didn't reach for his lightsaber, but the air around him began to crackle. Not with Sith Lightning, or with anything that Abbadon had seen before. It appeared to be the Force, converted into pure energy. It was unlikely the Sith would understand what Vastator was doing, for it was Jedi that practiced Tutaminus to its highest forms and mastery, not the Sith.
"You really should think before you speak." Abaddon scoffed at the man. He seemed to be begging Abaddon at this point to end his miserable and pathetic life. This man was no Dark Lord of the Sith, at least not in Abaddon's eyes. At most, Abaddon might consider him a marauder, but not a Master or Dark Lord. Not by a long shot.
"So tell me, then. What is your station? How is it that you could ever hope to serve the Order? A man so weak as you." Whatever respect had been there before these dealings, had now been vanquished. There was only so much he would tolerate before an example was needed to be had and this man didn't seemed to catch a drift. But why should Abaddon be surprised by this? The insect was only human after all and human were a race of weakness and filth. They had done nothing more than damage and taint the universe with the disease that was their existence.
Abaddon's right hand balled into a fist and the knuckles cracked violently. An ominous and dark mist rose in a foreboding manner from the recesses of the room. It was formless but served of ill intent and should the Dark Lord desire it strike out and serve instant death to whoever was the target. Sith Magic was a cruel thing and the Lord of Ruin was a master of it.
Vastator watched the Sith Magic dispassionately, seeming at last fed up of being insulted so. He watched Abaddon coldly, even as he began his quiet probe of the Force itself, searching for the seam that would allow his exit.
"I tire of this. Surely you must realise I harbour little desire to destroy the Galaxy - or the Jedi.
Such mass destruction is foolish and irrational, I have little desire to be part of such ridiculous affairs."
Gently, Vastator pulled, and the terrible black rent opened through the very fabric of the Force, causing a momentary wave of anguish to roll through the power.
"Our audience is finished, Abbadon, when next we meet, I shall slay you for what you have said here."
And with that, Darth Vastator stepped towards the rent, but not before unleashing a burst of pure energy into the ceiling, showering dust and fragments around the room in a final display of defiance.
"It's nice to see things progressing forward," An icy whisper echoed throughout the Chamber just moments after Vastator vanished from sight. "But remember, its the strongest we want to recruit, not the craziest."
*From the shadows of the main entryway, Andor emerged into the light, clad in his usual crimson tunic overlaid in his black cloak. The hood was raised, hiding his face in shadow.*
*Darth Andor stood before Abaddon, the new ruler of the Order of Ruin. Yes, it was true that Andor was the true founder of the Order of Ruin, having established a small ring of followers, Abaddon included, on Thule. He had appointed Abaddon second-in-command before his memory became unclear. No matter how hard Andor tried to bring back the memories from Thule, he was always met with the grey fog of uncertainty. Amenesia? Had his memory been wiped? Andor was never certain, and he doubted he would ever find a real answer.*
*After his lapse in memory, Andor had found himself back on Thule, but the temple had been abandoned, no sign of the Order of Ruin. Andor had been furious at himself, for letting the Order fall into its own ruin, but that was when he recieved Abaddon's transmission.*
*He found himself now standing before the new Lord of Ruin: his successor.*
*The Sith's hands raised to remove his hood, the light from the room exposing his skeletal face. The skin on his cheekbones was stretched nearly too thin, its pale complexion creating a strong contrast against his crimson eyes. His white hair fell into his face, as it had grown longer than usual. Casually, he brushed it away as he spoke.
'Zo mikn anas doryumi wim kaj zo Tsis, armijio tuti tsikazizi iw wirzyasshu'ija tuti ra Tsis dzu wisa. Ri waria drarina diâ ri Drijada waria tuti ri sni muri dzis oi.'[1] The thought flourished is his mind for a moment as the puny man scurried away as a child and the dark mist fell from the chamber once more. A cruel smile broke the otherwise straight feature of his face and his tongue slid across the upper row of teeth and upper lip as the Dark Lord reveled in the promise of ridding the galaxy of yet more weakness.
But now there was something different. It was familiar, yet foreign to him. A presence he'd not felt in several years. Ah. Yes. There it was. The Dark Lord, Darth Andor.
Darth Andor had been the leader of the Order of Ruin during the days of its inception, but vanished on a day not to be seen or heard from again until now. The idea that the Order had sprung forth from had change in the years since Andor's departure and now as it rebuilt itself on Korriban after the plague had swept through the stars, the vision had become something more. Something of a galaxy reborn and saved from the weakness that plagued it. It was an idea and a belief, and as such, it could not be killed.
"And so you're still live. You have survived the reckoning and now you've come home." The voice was just as cold and dark as it had been before. His red-orange eyes beamed in Andor's direction, showing through the veil still cast upon his face from the hood pulled over his head. He re-fastened the hilts of his lightsabers to the belt that spanned his waist and waited for Andor's next actions.
[1]"A man that calls himself a Sith, yet is terrified of bloodshed is no Sith at all. He will die and the Galaxy will be the better for it."
*Home. The word struck a chord within the Dark Lord. Yes, he was home, both figuratively and literally: and he hated that fact. But that hate gave him strength.*
*Andor's voice matched Abaddon's, as it too was cold but quiet, a mere whisper, almost like a hiss.
"There's work to be done, and a Galaxy to cleanse, so let's get started. You know that I'm here to serve the Order. The Galaxy has become offset and crippled by those who are not worthy, and you know that the Order will bring about their destruction. From their ashes, the strong will rise. "
*Originally, when Andor had formed the Order, its sole purpose was to bring the complete destruction of the Jedi. Just that word alone was enough to send a chill down Andor's spine, goosebumps rising from his flesh in anger, in hate, in longing, in excitement. But after receiving Abaddon's message, Andor learned that the purpose of the Order had been realigned to a cause that the Sith Lord could stand behind. The weak plagued the galaxy, and the galaxy needed to be purified.*
*His crimson eyes met Abaddon's and did not pull away. This was not meant as a sign of defiance, but as a sign of determination. Andor's hatred flickering in his eyes like a flame.
"Together, the five Lords can lead the charge, and give the galaxy what it needs to flourish."
The cruel smile cracked across Abaddon's facial features once again, seen only in those not still veiled by the hood pulled over his head.
Whereas the Order Andor had built was focussed solely on the weakness that was the Jedi and their cultist, oppressive system of beliefs they pushed out among the stars, Abaddon's new vision for the order has expanded beyond that. The Jedi had become but a small fraction of the weakness that plagued the greater universe. Now, there was much more in need of cleansing and saving, and Abaddon was to be that savior the galaxy needed. It may not have deserved him, but the utter need was apparent.
"You saw the vision of a galaxy cured of weakness before, but the focus was too narrow. The Jedi were only a symptom of the greater affliction. Now the full vision will be realized as the Order saves the galaxy from the weakness that plagues it so. And . . ." Abaddon paused and gauged the man before him. A swift breeze swept through the chamber of origins unknown, and gently removed the hood from his head to reveal the previously shrouded features of his head. He was bald, the red skin innate of his species pulled tightly over it. ". . . the new order will prevail in its place. The strong will rule and the weak will bend knee to those above them. Those who do not will be terminated and thus the galaxy will be allowed to flourish as it was intended from its creation."
"Well then lets get started." *Andor eyed the empty council chairs, noting that Abaddon was the only Lord present.* "Who else has answered the call? What's your next move to grow our Order?