The Second Golden Age of the Sith [Pregame Roleplay]

[LongVin]

Renato Benso

Nodding, "That is acceptable."

Leaving his seat he turns towards the exit, "I have to always remind myself to practice my martial skills. Atleast this way I will not be up against one of those cretins who wish to actually attempt to kill me."

[Raven T.]

Drupada Taipo

"Indeed." Though, I suspect it would be easy enough to drop you if I wished. However, one of the core tenants of my order is that betraying the trust of another member is punishable by death. Only a fool kills his allies, even if they are not as such yet. Drupada led Renato toward the dueling pit slowly, taking care to remove the bulky cloak he always wore over his robes...so dark brown that they are almost black...and hang it gingerly on a nearby rack.

With the customary flick of the wrist, his saber was in his hand and lit, casting it's violet light on the floor. "When you're ready; I will not attack an unprepared opponent in a sparring situation." Looking inward, he dropped into a new stance, radically different than his normal one. His right foot dropped back, as if firing a rifle. Knees bent, his blade hung loosely from his right hand, making a 45 degree angle from the floor. It was fluid and lent itself to a quick counterstrike.

[EvilWalks]

Beskreiga Ordo

The young mandalorian followed the umbaran's eyes to the blindfold and the goggles. He had taken them off, despite his obvious sensitivity to the surrounding environment...but why? To show that he would not hide from her behind steel and glass? To try and empathize with her by making the appearance of lowering his defenses? Or was it just irritability from wearing them for too long?

It unsettled Beskreiga not because of the questions, but because of the possible answers. She was usually so good at reading people, especially those with concealed or partially concealed faces...most Mandalorians had that ability, a natural side-effect of working closely with each other while wearing their full armour. The Umbaran was difficult to read however, no matter if his goggles were on or off...his emotions where so alien and the usual arrogance and self-importance that he held himself with (at least when in concerns to dueling and other such things), served as an effective emotional wall.

Or maybe it was more simple. Maybe she was just loosing her edge...and the possibility of such a loss, is perhaps what unsettled her the most...almost to the point of fear.

"No we haven't been...acquainted yet, and I don't see a reason why. I am just here to learn and train, not socialize with...other students..." The last two words she had to give some thought too...after all, she considered herself apart from the other sith...not necessarily above, but definitely different...or so maybe she hoped.

"But perhaps maybe the so-called Best Duelist out of all the Students has for some reason, time to do just that...socialize. Fine then, my name is Beskreiga Ordo."

[LongVin]

Renato Benso

Removing a pair of leather gloves from his pocket, he carefully slides them on testing to make sure they won't fall down in the course of combat. Turning sideways in a fencers stance to limit his profile and make a smaller target he unclips the lightsaber and ignites the blade, holding the handle close to his body with one hand and the blade pointed straight at Drupado.


Studying his opponent and his stance he recognizes Drupado's stance for what it is, a feint. Designed to lure his opponent into a false sense of security and go for an immediate "killing" blow. "I am ready"

Renato comes in quick with an a exploratory thrust, not committing fully but neither is he performing an action that could be ignored. He was feeling Drupado out, trying to see what his style and technique to find a weakness.

(1d20+5)[12]

[Faithdreamer]

Hana – Kraygor’s Turbolift

Curiosity, it was a thoughtful expression on his face. He wasn’t getting lost in ideas. He simply sank in a pool of liquid contemplation. “Pleased to make you an acquaintance.”
His hand was patient. Leisurely crossing the gap between them just so it could brush the other apprentice’s fingertips; it wasn’t in any hurry getting back either. He sat down the same way, held his knees close to his chest. Kraygor got to wonder too while he looked down at Hana. Was it the glow of merriment behind his eyes, the reflection off the light shining down from the ceiling?

“Call me Imp Rest.”

[Cazziuz]

Kraygor - Basement 2, by the turbolift.

"Imp, huh?" Kraygor stood, simply looking at the... well he wasn't sure exactly what he was looking at, but it seemed friendly enough.
Whew, I think I got lucky. Kraygor's smile became even friendlier, or maybe it was just sincere now? It was difficult to tell.
"Well, nice to met you mr. Rest. I have a feeling that we'll be able to get along just fine".
Kraygor turned to the control panel, asking Imp in the progress "now it's my turn to ask. What floor are you going to?"

[Kaymeera]

"Actually it was - the crystal was redder than a laigrek's eye" - The Jedi Exile, possibly.

Vykan Zendra

Zendra smiled slightly as he noted the fleeting look of distress the Mandalorian displayed as he removed his visors.

The Mandalorian woman had struck a particular cord with him. She was burdened such a great sense of honor, and a consistent self-expectancy to stand tall but alone.

He had seen it before with the other recruits, often with those who thought themselves more superior, often truly trying to compensate for an obvious lack of skill or merely trying to emulate their own personal philosophy on absolute Sith ideology in attempt to earn favor with their masters.

The Mandalorian sought neither. Having witnessed her earlier duel, she obviously, knew much of close-quarters combat. Her demeanor and mannerism suggested considerable personal pride.

There is a thin line between pride and arrogance, but pride, is how they both stood out .. and apart. It's why he respected her and that's why he'd offer her the respect of meeting her eyes with his.

The Umbaran nodded at the introduction.

"Vykan Zendra. And no, I don't usually take the time to .. (he smiled at her choice of phrase) socialize, with all the recruits; only those who strive to truly better themselves. The ones who show the most potential. The ones I truly believe I can benefit from their experience and company, and they from mine."

[EvilWalks]

Beskreiga Ordo ~ The Commons

"To benefit from? What could you possibly hope to gain from me?" Beskreiga asked in a matter-of-fact manner. "I'm still having problems wielding a bloody lightsaber, nor can I fire lightning from my finger tips, or choke a man from 30 meters."

The Mandalorian finished her second mug of Caf, and set it down between her and Vykan. "I can't lift objects much larger then this without physical or technological contact. I'm not much for the mysteries, or the philosophies either....so again, how could you benefit from me?"

There were actually many possibilities to that question, now that Beskreiga thought about it...but she didn't say anything. She wanted to see what Vykan thought, or at least, what Vykan would come up with to conceal what he thought. It was unlikely that she was fishing for compliments...No..there where better places to do that then a Sith Academy...and besides, she wasn't that receptive to compliments usually. They only reminded her of the overcompensations she had made in failed attempts circumvent her other failures.

No...this wasn't about her, this was about Vykan. The Sith duelist with the feather cloak, and his offer of...was it partnership?

Only the next few moments could possibly tell.

[Caewil]

Csaba Obscura

Her wound had been clean, she remembers. The frictionless blade of a lightsaber usually leaves only burns but sometimes opportunistic bacteria could find a home there. Just to be safe, the facility's medical droids had removed the charred tissue from her abdomen, replacing it with synthflesh.

Csaba concentrates on her own body, focusing on her injuries. She does not will her flesh to heal. She does not gently nudge with the Force. Instead, she commands it, as she would a subordinate. Csaba can feel the blood in her veins, the slow beating of her heart. As she recklessly burns her body's reserves to fuel the hasty healing her pulse speeds up until her heart races. Csaba's fear tells her to stop, but her anger pushes her on further. She draws on the power of the dark, tapping on the hatred that she could feel within the walls of the Sith academy, and now even more strongly within her own heart. I will not be kept down, she seethes.

Less than an hour later, the miraluka emerges from the tank, shivering in the cold of the medical bay. Her skin is as even paler than usual but otherwise shows no traces of scarring. As Csaba rapidly dons her robes, she considers her next course of action. Perhaps I had best show myself to the other Sith again.

[Kaymeera]

"How am I to know the good side from the bad?" - Luke Skywalker

Vykan Zendra ~ The Common Room

The Umbaran smiles widely at the Mandalorian.

"Ha. You judge yourself by comparison to them? They are like mindless bantha; they scurry around, searching for strife and then toddle directly into it without a second thought. In time, with training, you will be on par with them. I have seen you fight, you will match and succeed them quickly."

The Umbaran's tone quietens, becoming more serious.

"No, you have something about you that they can never achieve. They are Sith to the heart and core. They have learned to excel through sole dependence on the Force. They listen with it, see with it, think with it and act on it. It makes them far superior in many fields, but it blinds them completely in others."

"But you. You have seen strife where they have not, and excelled on skill and talent alone, and, more importantly, you relished it. I see the pride with which you walk, with which you fight, with which you arrange your armaments, with which you have tailored your very robes(he nods towards her clothing). You are intelligent, tactical, skilled and motivated. As such, can achieve far more than they ever possibly can."

A half-smile slowly forms on his face.

"But you know all this already, but maybe you merely needed it said aloud."

[TheGreatJabu]

Antos Mereck - Instruction Hall, Basement 1

Salina Jax
- Basement 1, by the turbolift

"I thought philosophy wasn't one of your stronger subjects," Salina replies, still in her customary even tone. "It seems you had an answer in you after all."

Apparently satisfied, she abruptly turns to begin walking down the hall, never bothering to wave or offer any kind of verbal farewell.

Antos doesn't speak a word as the young woman walks away in what seemed to be mid-conversation. He folds his arms in front of his chest and watches the unidentified Sith stroll off. He feels no surprise, and incredibly little irritation. Big shocker. Got whatever the hell she wanted and moved on. Fine by me - I danced to your tune enough to keep you off my back for the day. He shakes his head a tiny amount, and when she is nearly out of sight he blows out a breath. Time to get to work.

Antos heads over in the direction of the dueling pit to have a quick peek looking for guards to speak with.

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OOC: Unless Rydax would prefer to roleplay this out, Antos will continue going around, asking guards if they can recall how often they see a Rodian Sith (specifically Master Melkto Gbuda, if they seem to know him) and at what times he usually comes around. After speaking to the available guards on this floor, he'll board the turbolift and head up one more floor and continue.

[Rafe]

Gaimon - Archive, Basement 1

After an hour or two of peering at the terminal screen and scanning through information (a good deal of it irrelevant to his interests), Gaimon rubs his aching eyes with his thin hand. Standing, he finds his legs stiff and his shoulders sore. Some of the information he had glanced through had been intriguing, and some of it not.

Scowling at the blinking terminal, he shook his head and headed for the Instruction Hall. Damned machines. Droids were meant to filter through the data and present something worthwhile. All the same, it did provide some respite from others, he thought.

As he stepped out of the more softly-lit environs of the Archive into the chill main hall, he remembered something. He scanned his utility belt and nodded. He had used his medpac some days ago after a training exercise, and had yet to replace it. A small oversight but a potentially fatal one, as well.

"I'd best -ksssk- see to that given I've nothing else to occupy me," he mutters.

The lean, pallid man makes his way to the turbolift, and sinks deeper into the complex. The ride is short and, best of all, quiet. He thinks over some of the things he has learned today: Renato was one to speak to about searching the Archive material better and more thoroughly, and that Umbaran... he was one to 'saber train with, perhaps. Someone more akin to his own style: efficient simplicity. Dancing with swords was for pretentious Jedi trainees. He couldn't help sneering beneath the plasteel of his mask.

Stepping out of the lifts, he found himself in Subfloor 3. The Administration area was slightly busier than he had thought it would be. Droids moved about their business, bleeping and whirring, and a few personnel spoke formally into comlinks or pointed out information to colleagues on computer terminal read-outs. While a few of the closest glanced his way, he ignored them all and strode through the heart of it and into the Medical Facility beyond.

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Arachnid, I'm thinking that Gaimon is entering just after you've gotten all sorted out.

[Caewil]

Csaba Obscura

Csaba kneels down on the cold durasteel floor and pulls on her ebony boots. She scowls with irritation as she notices new scratches and scuffmarks along the sides. This will take hours to buff out. Csaba jimmies her left foot into a tall boot then pauses intently. Someone approaches. From the being's power, Csaba knows that it is one of the apprentices, perhaps the umbaran himself come to gloat. She grits her teeth and begins tightening the cinching of her boot. Her right hand clenches as she surreptitiously gathers her power should it be He.

As she hears footsteps approach, Csaba raises her head to face the newcomer. The Sith's metal jaw hisses as it takes in air and even the miraluka hesitates before speaking, assessing the threat. Uncertain, she attempts a jest. "Hello there, handsome"

[Rafe]

Gaimon

The lean man pauses as he enters, seeing the Miraluka. He senses her unease but also... relief, perhaps? He also feels her tense, her body moving into a state of battle readiness, one he, himself, is quite familiar with.

Relaxing and keeping his arms loose and at his sides, Gaimon shrugs and says, "It seems we both wear trappings to hide aspects of -kssssssk- our physiques. Yours is natural, and perhaps a gift to those with"-- he chuckles, the subvocalizer coughing the sound --"open eyes. Mine is not. -kssk- While it hides an injury and accommodates a deficiency, this mask also has its advantages. I am harder to read, voice recognition is difficult and its visual affect can be quite useful."

Gaimon walks over to a medical kiosk and with pale, slender fingers keys the code to access the contents. He slips a medpac into his utility belt. He has other business here as well, but it can wait.

Turning to face the woman, he states outright: "There is -ksskssssk- no shame in losing a fight. No loss is complete so long as something is learned. You stood your ground. That is admirable. That you lost is inconsequential because you survived and you know now, perhaps, -ksk- how to better handle the Umbaran in the future."

His eyes glint. "Knowledge can be a powerful tool."

[Nowhere Girl]

Salina Jax

Basement 1, Archive

Sitting quietly, Salina stares at the text before her, unable to do more as her mind simply refuses to focus on it. Finally, she sits back instead, rubbing her temples and closing her eyes.

She had almost completely underestimated the one with the mask, she admits to herself finally, reflecting on what transpired in the turbolift. And at the same moment that she'd made that discovery, she had also seen something in the trooper that she found intriguing.

Boldness.

Those with the courage and conviction to take risks are the ones whose actions ultimately shape the galaxy. Calculation, careful observation, planning -- all have their place, perhaps, but if one is unwilling to risk everything, it will all come to little in the end. In that moment, she'd realized that the man was more than just a uniform and an erect posture.

For several moments, she sits like that, eyes closed, thoughts wandering, uncertain of what action to take.

Abruptly, impulsively, and with a rare, sly smile, she extends her senses outward, seeking the trooper she'd spoken with only a short time ago.

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Farseeing: (1d20+14)[20] (vs. Antos's Will Defense)

(should reveal whether he's alive or dead, a vague sense of his immediate surroundings, what he's currently doing, and any strong emotions he's feeling)

[TheGreatJabu]

Antos Mereck - Stairwell; level 3/4

Can't say I blame him. Hell, I might start doing this myself. At least here I won't have to wait in line for a fight to end. Antos was appreciating the quieter, less bustling environment around him as he continued to trudge onwards. After nearly a standard hour of legwork, he'd managed to hear half a dozen useless rumors, some unfounded conjecture, and two useful observations. One: In the many sightings of this Master Melkto Gbuda, not once has he ever been seen entering or exiting a turbolift. That means that the Rodian is either part-spider, or he simply takes the stairs. Two: generally, he eats his meals considerably later than most to avoid the big crowd in the messhall. Now was a good time as any to find out.

Antos stops about halfway between Basement level 3 and 4 and walks over to the guardrail to gaze upwards. He was trying to determine if he'd have even the slightest line of sight to the entrance to level 2 from here. He wouldn't need much - a Rodian stands out in most crowds. He'd already given up on the prospect of simply waiting on the level 2 stairwell. Someone this avoidant would see that coming a mile away.

Mereck grunts with irritation. I'm a soldier. I've got better things to do than play hide-and-go-seek. Can't believe I've been assigned to- "Miikt oini?"

The interruption caught him completely offguard. Antos spun around to find himself staring into two humongous golden eyes. Rodian eyes. An alien with orangish-red skin stood immediately before him, examining him carefully. It spoke again, this time in a different language. "Aek son sha?" Again, Antos was at a loss to understand his meaning. The Rodian closes its eyelids and sighs, then poses one last question. This time, however, it was a dialect the trooper was familiar with - Huttese.

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"You speak Hutt-tongue, yes?"

Although still shocked by the events, Antos manages to stammer out his reply in Basic. "Yes, I speak Huttese. Are you-" He is cut off by the Rodian, again in Huttese.

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"Yes, I am Melkto of clan Gbuda. Do not speak Basic-tongue with me; it is easy to overhear. Come, Sergeant. We needs speak."

The Rodian brushes past the man and continues on up the stairs.

..the hell? Antos shakes off his confusion and falls in line behind the Master.

[EvilWalks]

Beskreiga Ordo

The Mandalorian adjusted her gauntlets slightly as the Umbaran spoke and then offered a rare grin as he finished. "Maybe...what I do know though, is that flattery will get you no where except into a Mandalorian Headlock."

The grin of course was a ruse...what Vykan said about her, for the most part, was true...but he had not seen, or not commented, on the many faults and imperfections that outweighed all of those strengths within her.
"And don't count out those 'mindless bantha' out either...I was once on Tatoonine doing mercenary work for the Hutts...I've seen an enraged mindless bantha...they may not be smart, they may not be skilled, and they may not be tactically minded, but even one can still destroy entire spaceports before someone finally brings it down...if it gets brought down at all." Beskreiga knew this all too well, as did any Mandalorian who fought in the finally days of the Two Decade War. She stifled a sigh, and added. "Call it free advice."

Beskreiga looked down at her mug of caf and this time, didn't stifle her sigh. Briefly, she thought about getting up and acquiring a third mug, but decided against it...Caffiene after all, was a stimulant drug...and any stimulant was detrimental to it's user's health, if taking in high quantities...she'd wait a bit.

Turning back to Zendra, and asked. "So it is an offer of partnership you are proposing...and you seem to know what you would get out of it...but what would I stand to gain?"

[Caewil]

Csaba Obscura

Csaba scowls as she unclenches her fist, allowing the power she had been preparing to dissapate. The man appeared to be going out of his way to seem unthreatening, though surely not out of fear of her. Somehow, that rankled. She knew she could hardly expect to recover from her defeat so rapidly, but nonetheless her pride chafed at the delay in regaining her status among the apprentices.

"Perhaps you are right." The miraluka stands while clipping the lightsaber to the belt strapped across her waist. Her eyes linger on it for a few seconds before she turns the masked man. "I had not expected him to be such a competent swordsman - Those who bluster rarely have any talent in truth." Csaba pauses to consider her newly healed wounds. "But it seems I underestimated him."

The miraluka seems to sag at the shoulders for a second before recovering her composture. She looks Gaimon in the eyes before she says "The lesson was brutal, but at least I know the degree to which my lightsaber skills are deficit." She attempts a smile. "You look fairly competent. Perhaps you could... assist me."

[Kaymeera]

"He's no good to me dead" - Boba Fett on Han Solo

Vykan Zendra

Vykan smiled, revealing a set of human-like, though somewhat sharpened, teeth.

"You'd gain just what I have to gain. Insight. Skill. A chance to reap more of both. To you and I, they are the most valuable commodities there are. You cannot deny our joint potential from such a simple mutual agreement."

The Umbaran linked his fingers.

"I'm not asking you to trust me. Of all things, in this place and time, that's a foolish thing to ask for, and moreso to expect. I foresee all your dealings with me to proceed with a great deal of .. caution on your part."

"All I ask is that, when opportunity comes, and it will, and should you find yourself unable to proceed alone, remember me as I will remember you."

The Umbaran then falls silent, still looking her directly, unblinking, waiting for her response.

[Rafe]

Gaimon

"'Competent'? Yes..." The lean man smooths his worn robes, watching the Miraluka. "I'm no stranger to a lightsaber.

"Yes, perhaps we can help -kssk- each other. There some matters I must see to here first, though. I -kssssk- will meet you in the dueling chamber in twenty minutes, if that suits you," he says, his voice metallic and distant.

This could be both helpful and serve as a good break from what has otherwise been an academic morning, he thinks.

[EvilWalks]

Beskriega Ordo

"When the oppurtuinity comes, we'll see..." The young warrioress responds with a thoughtful neutrality.

Beskreiga stood up for moment and retrieved a toolkit from her utility belt, and then removed part of her should plate that had been clipped in training combat. She took a small durasteel patch and a fusion welder from the toolkit, assembled her supplies on the table, and began to repair the armored plate with an almost instinctual skill.

Repairing and working with technology was second nature to her, which was quite a fortunate trait since she was both a Mandalorian, and from one the less well-to-do clanships. The repair was so routine, that she barely had to focus on it, to accomplish the task. "If I may indulge upon your point of view, Zendra, what do you think will happen after the graduation and final tests? Assuming you survive and pass? What tasks await us" She asked as her hand grabbed the plasma torch and began to remove the damaged parts with surgical percision. "Understand that my mind is only truly concerned on the present at this moment and this is nothing more then a simple hypothetical."


((By the way, if it helps you immerse yourself in the game more, Beskreiga speaks with a semi-New Zealander Accent like most of the Mandalorians seen in Star Wars, such as Boba and Jango Fett, or Canderous Ordo and the KOTOR Mandos...it's a bit more restrained then a typical female New Zealander accent though, because Beskreiga has acquired so many other langauges that her main accent has been deluded, supressed and mixed with them))

[Nowhere Girl]

http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheets/view.php?id=35504

Basement 1, Archive, and then ... elsewhere

Letting her senses return to her own surroundings and opening her eyes, Salina stands abruptly, putting aside any thought of reading just now. In any case, she reasons, the most meaningful insights can never be found in mere text. But that's really just an excuse, isn't it?

But then, what to do?

She stands slowly, clasping her hands behind her back, and, after a moment's consideration, exits the archive. A walk, she decides, would be nice.

Where? Anywhere.

Go look in on that trooper? No. That's foolish. Why are you so concerned with him in any case?

Having nothing better to do while so distracted and unfocused, Salina walks back out of the archive to the stairs, choosing to use them rather than the turbolift. She starts to head down, then hesitates and goes up instead, toying with the idea of even going for a brief walk outside. Of course, the cold would be nothing short of brutal, but that might just serve to focus and sharpen her mind again.