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 symbolism of the architecture wasn't lost on me as I made my approach to the Academy. Strength, domination, the power to rule. From the ancient Sith to the dozen or so Orders that had been established before the cataclysm, power was all that had mattered to those who practiced the dark side. And out of all of them, only my master had ever been able to realize that power was only a means to an end. A stepping stone on the path to the true goal.
Freedom.
I passed between the kneeling statues and entered the darkness of the main hallway. Out of the dust and wind, I adjusted my tattered black robes and shook some of the dirt from the zeyd-cloth. The red grit still clung to my shoulder length black hair and pale skin, but it went ignored. My thoughts turned toward the coming meeting, wondering who had sent the invitation and who the other two that arrived were. The chances that I knew any of them were slim to none; nearly everyone had been killed in the cataclysm- thank Bogan- and I had only ever associated with a few dark siders that I considered colleagues in the first place.
So I suppose I ought to make haste to introduce myself.
When I reached the split in the hallway, I turned toward the presence of my host and immediately came face to face with a young woman. She flashed past me, staring straight ahead, and in a moment was out of sight. Staring after her for a long moment, I finally shook my head and continued on my way.
The Gamma-class shuttle descended lazily through Korriban's atmosphere, aimed for an isolated section of the Valley a few kilometers from where the other shuttles had landed. Ielyn was in no hurry and I saw no reason to chide him. It's a whole new universe, after all, and I've got all the time in the world. There were, no doubt, hundreds of meetings just like this one going on all across the galaxy right now- albeit with less...intense attendees- as the survivors of the cataclysm sought to climb to the top of the rubble left behind.
It was all one big primordial soup, and I was in no rush to evolve.
When we finally did land I exited the craft without a word. The moment I reached the top of the ramp and tasted Korriban's atmosphere, the dark side stirred within me. It had been a long time since my last visit to the world, and I'd never had the connection with it boasted by some of the dark siders I'd met, but there was still something primal and familiar about the place. An instinctive bond that I couldn't explain. Whether it was simply the corrupted force within each of us or something deeper, I couldn't say, but gazing out across the Valley felt an awful lot like looking into a mirror.
Pulling myself from my reverie, I reached out to find the signatures of the other guests, and headed toward where they were congregated.
The plains of Naboo were an endless sea of green, tinged gray by the pallor hanging overhead. A sunless, if mild day, inoffensive in every way. It was the perfect climate to test one's prowess, free of all distractions.
That's why I'm here, after all, wading through waist-high grass and armed with naught but my lightsaber. I've even traded my zeyd-cloth robes for a set made of a more common fabric. No, there could be no buffer between myself and this obstacle save the raw power I had accumulated in the time since my failure. To approach it in any other way would prove the outcome meaningless. If my power had grown, if I had weakened the bonds keeping me from freedom, then I would triumph. If not, well...I'd either be leaving these plains in a pair of stun-cuffs, or not at all.
As I crested the rise I saw him, awaiting my arrival in the clearing below. Adieumus Matango, my greatest failure. Oh, I had been bested by others, of course; Jud'dayus comes to mind, as does Ryu. But they were both far beyond me when I crossed blades with them. Adieumus was a foe I should have bested. That I hadn't had haunted me since. There was no way for me to move forward except through him.
Even if it was a whole new universe.
I began my descent down the hill, drawing the dark side in bits and pieces, draping it over myself like a familiar, if tattered cloak. The influx of energy was a rush; my nostrils flared, my pupils dilated, and my breathing quickened a hair. By the Force, it's been quite some time since I've done this dance.
I stopped about twenty paces from the Jedi, plucking the curved hilt of my lightsaber from my belt with my right hand.
The brilliant white tunnel of hyperspace suddenly shattered as my shuttle returned to real space.
Korriban. A dusty red orb home to naught but tombs and sand. And yet it was ever here those that worshipped Bogan retreated to when the time came to lick wounds and plan vengeance. Like a favorite watering hole they swarmed to it, drinking deep of the dark energy permeating the planet, letting it nurse them back to health. Letting it fan the flames of their ambition.
Never realizing it sought to consume them, just as any focal point of the dark side would, given half a chance and a foolish misstep.
It was all very played out, and yet here I was. When the call came, resonating through the force like a guttural war cry, I didn't hesitate. I came straight away, just as I had the last three times a new Dark Lord had branded himself such amidst the Valley of Tombs.
I do hate to wax nihilistic, however: this time might just be different. With the universe in tatters, the board has been reset. Who knows where the pieces will fall?
I roused myself from my musings long enough to reach out through the force, to sift through the black energy of this place and find the one who had touched my mind and beckoned me here. It took only a moment.
Appearance:Dark, shoulder-length hair, pale, angular features, glittering amber eyes. Very slender, stands at five feet ten inches. His hands are burned and blackened from his use of the 'Force Blast' spell; his fingers and thumbs are capped with platinum cuticle-implants. His cloak is made of rough black material, a combination of zeyd-cloth and shell-spider silk that gives him protection from small-arms blaster fire and low powered vibroblades.
Ishmael Centaris began life as the only child of a single mother. He never met his father, an enigma of a man who was known to have sired two other powerful offspring- Axyl and Alkor Centaris, Ishmael's half brothers. He was found to be force sensitive at an early age and began attending the Jedi Academy on Ithor, in all respects an average disciple besides his inquisitive nature and talent for swordsmanship. As he grew, his curiosity became more aggressive, and his skills with a blade more refined. Discounting a minor reprimand for venturing into the forbidden sections of the Academy's archives at age twelve, Ishmael's Jedi upbringing was rather uneventful. At age thirteen he was taken as a Padawan by Jedi Master Kro Mala, a Nautolan philosopher and diplomat. Their natures endeared them to each other early on; both had an insatiable thirst for knowledge and a fondness for debating. The bulk of their missions together were of the arbitrating sort, negotiating disputes and pressing for a diplomatic solution, with a handful of skirmishes with pirates and slavers interspersed between these. It wasn't until Ishmael's seventeenth year that he began a noteworthy chapter of his life. Assigned as escort for a fleet of cargo frigates, the two Jedi found themselves ambushed by Sith warships. The rest of the fleet burned, but they were taken captive by the Dark Lord Annorox.
