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
The Sith Archives were situated off of the main hall and contained several levels of resources contained on scrolls and holocrons as well as datapads and holobooks.
I let out a slow, satisfied sigh as I took my first step into the archives of the academy. Shelves of holocrons stretched outward in long, neatly ordered rows. Interspersed between were tables piled with research materials and datapads, clearly abandoned when the academy's former tenants fled the planet. It had been a long time since my last visit to the library, yet it felt unchanged.
Hushed murmurings plied at me from every side as I sauntered down the first row of holocrons. Promises of powers, threats of pain unlike any the universe has known, temptations too good to be true; not a one of them succeeded in turning my head. The allure of the dark side was too great for me to ignore- I fell from the Light just like nearly all my brethren, after all- but nonetheless it could not be trusted. One moment of lapsed judgment, and it would consume you.
A lesson I'd seen many Sith fail to learn...but not the Lapay. Those who walked the path- myself, Ryu, Ken- had proven our worth time and again, and yet it was never enough. Decades I'd been on the path, and still my search for power continues. It would be wearying if not for the...exhilaration of it all.
Suddenly I stopped, my right hand snapping out to seize a holocron from the shelf. It pulsed with black pleasure as my fingers closed around it. I brought it close to read the inscription:
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Smiling, I swept dusty manuscripts and glittering holocrons alike from the surface of the nearest table, and took a seat.
Not long after his meeting in the Council Chambers with Abaddon, Andor found himself entering the archives. His black cloak brushed the floor as he browsed the shelves, his right organic hand gracefully stroking the spines of the books and scrolls as he passed. He wasn't looking for anything in particular, but kept his eyes open, always on the hunt for a greater understanding of the mysteries of the Force.
He rounded a corner to find a lone figure hunched over a small triangular holocron. Andor took in the man's appearance, and although he knew who he was, they had never met in person. Andor approached Ishmael, stopping on the other side of the table.
"Ishmael Centaris, I presume?" Andor's voice was cold and thin, like a whisper in the night. "We meet at last."
The holocron began to glow with insidious light as I carelessly swept one hand over its surface. The pyramid emanated the dark side strongly- unsurprising, considering the corrupt knowledge that languished within the device- and I reached out with my mind, searching for the facet that would give way and unlock its secrets.
A holoprojection suddenly activated, displaying a wall of minuscule text, ascending rapidly. Most of it was useless; I've studied this holocron before, you see, back when I still served as the Inquisitorious for the Tarisian Empire. It's where I learned the bread and butter of my trade: creating leviathans, twisting the flesh of beasts and sentients alike to better suit my needs. But now I search for a process I only glanced over in the past. In that time of massive armies, when Sith Lords were as common as decicreds, there had been no need of it.
Now, in the wake of the Cataclysm, 'all hands on deck' had taken on a very different meaning.
"Ishmael Centaris, I presume?" Andor's voice was cold and thin, like a whisper in the night. "We meet at last."
With my face bathed in the light of the holoprojection, my frown would be all too obvious to an observer. I dislike being recognized by anyone, enemy or...ally. Anonymity has always suited me much better- I'm uninterested in forming bonds or relationships with Lesser Sith (the ones with no true understanding of the concept of power)- so this sudden arrival's use of my name is irritating to say the least.
"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," I say, voice loud and booming in comparison to the stranger's reedy whispering. "What is it?"
Andor smiled underneath his hood as the Lord of Corruption barked his retort, obviously irritated with Andor's intrusion into his studies. Gracefully, Andor slid into the chair across from Ishmael, his hands reaching up to remove the hood from his head. As the shadows receded, Ishmael would notice an aged man with white hair, falling across his eyes, with skin as pale as the moon, stretched thin across his pointed cheek-bones. His crimson eyes looked at the activated holocron, noticing the contents that were temporarily displayed as the text continuously rose upwards into oblivion. Then his eyes, darted back to meet Ishmael's.
"We've been tasked with building an army together," Andor clasped his hands together as he rested them on the table, taking on a standard "business-like" manner. "Ah, the Creation of Monsters," Andor thought as he finally recognized the contents. It was a subject that Andor himself had never found interest in. But, as he read the title aloud in his head, an idea seeded into his brain...
"And I think our skills in this matter will compliment one another greatly."
I spared the man a brief glance before returning my attention to the text spanning the length of the hologram- enough to see the white hair and crimson eyes, features not altogether uncommon for those corrupted by the dark side of the force. It also didn't escape my notice that he failed to introduce himself, which wasn't wholly unexpected. Nor do I care; the monikers and titles of those claiming the mantle of 'Darth' don't interest me. It's indicative of a base understanding of the Sith Code, and there are too many to keep them all straight, anyway.
What did pique my interest was his assertion that we were to collaborate on the creation of Abbadon's army. That could prove...interesting. Using my magic to create a military was a task I'd taken on a multitude of times, but always alone. If this Sith had the skills he claimed, perhaps we could build something truly...special.
I suddenly flicked my forefinger toward the holocron, and the hologram it was projecting froze. The subsection title sat neatly at the top.
Battle lords.
Finally I tore my gaze away, amber meeting crimson. "What skills would those be, I wonder?"
Andor's gaze briefly met Ishmael's, before both of their eyes returned to the scrolling text on the holocron. It was evident that Ishmael was able to raise the army, and Andor knew he could enhance it. His mind raced with the possibilities, and then the text stopped, displaying a topic that Andor had only briefly read about in his studies.
Battle lords.
A battle lord was an individual who was tied to his troops, by means of the Force, through ancient Sith rituals. It was a practice not seen since the time of Darth Revan... The knowledge for this ritual had been lost for a millennium. But if Andor and Ishmael could uncover the lost art, Andor knew he could take the battle lords one step further.
There was a brief silence as Ishmael spoke out, as Andor was flooded with memories of his past. In front of him, stood Cronal, his former teacher. Andor had studied with Cronal at the Sith temple on Drommund Kaas where he learned everything Cronal knew about Sith magic. They had grown close, more than a Master and Apprentice, but also friends... brothers. There relationship had grown so strong, that Andor and Cronal created a Mind Meld between them, allowing them access to one another through the Force, no matter what.
But since the Sith Empire's betrayal on Korriban, by the slimy Selveen Kharr, Cornal and Andor had become separated. Ever since, Andor had been able to connect with his brother, the connection all but destroyed. The Sith Lord's anger flared as he thought about the events that had transpired, questioning Cronal's fate.... If he was dead, Andor would have felt his death. If he was alive.... why couldn't Andor sense him either?
"Tell me, Ishmael," Andor started, his voice still distant. But then he snapped back to reality and locked eyes with the Lord of Corruption, "Have you ever heard of a Mind Meld?"
The semblance of a joke flits across my mind, something to the effect of an idle curiosity about just how closely Abbadon intended our work together to be, but I stifle it. Sith aren't exactly known for their senses of humor, after all. Instead I turn to wondering why he would bring it up at all- pointless small talk is another thing Sith aren't known for.
Ah, but of course: "Linking the battle lords together would create a true symbiosis amongst our forces- one hive mind separated through various nodes, each controlling a portion of the rank and file. Ingenious idea- their abilities in battle will be quite literally unparalleled, I think."
Oh, this was going to be good. While I really couldn't care less how the war with the Jedi actually turned out, creating what was essentially a sentient, hive-minded swarm was a project that could definitely hold my attention. It was, in essence, a single organism- the greatest leviathan to ever be created.
One finger rhythmically tapped the surface of the table as I gave it more thought. "The corpses of those who fell victim to the plague will do for those to be bound, but the battle lords themselves will have to be superior specimens. Force sensitives would be best, though even that won't guarantee their survival. The ritual is rather...violent.
I assume, once all else is done, your abilities will be sufficient to create a link between the battle lords?"
"You assume correct. Cronal and I unraveled many mysteries of Sith Magic before his disappearance," Andor cracked a smile, reveling in his conquests of old. The next couple of months were going to be tiresome, gruesome, and meticulous. But should the Order of Ruin form such a dangerous, intelligent army, they would be unstoppable.
"The Jedi are in shambles, as is the galaxy at large. As for acquiring force-sensitives as subjects...." He was speculative of course, but there was a way. Andor had done it once before, years ago. Long ago, Andor had gone undercover as a Jedi to the Corellian Jedi Academy, seeking answers and knowledge that would help cripple the Jedi Order during the reign of the Sith Empire. During his time, he managed to corrupt the souls of two Jedi, bringing them into the dark. It was then, that he was found out by two Jedi Masters, Mike Frantz and Serrin Roma. The two fallen Jedi didn't make it, but Andor had managed to get away with answers, having only escaped in part because of Cronal's perfectly timed arrival.
It seemed it was time for Andor to assume the role of a Jedi once more. There were plans to be made, of course.
"Leave that to me."
The temple on Coruscant was his first option... a planet so widely populated would have been decimated by the plague. It would be easily to get in and out of the temple.. And hopefully there would be a few Jedi left for the reaping. After that, he could go to Corellia, maybe Dantooine, and see what he could rustle up.
Andor stood from his chair, smoothed out his robes and made his exit, leaving Ishmael to do his research for his battle lords.
