OOC: Closed, Sign Up only. Here's the Sign-Up thread: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=441201
IC:
Darth Nyax swung upwards, as he felt the roaring splash of blood thicken the air around him, the soft and warm liquid filling his mouth with the ever so slightly luscious juice flowing like a great wave unto his mouth. He licked his lips hungrily, greedily, almost like a dangerous primitive animal that always hunted for the fun of it. And that was what he was; an animal, on a great hunt, for the greatest prey in his life: Jedi. The animal he slaughtered, it’s blood was sweet and temperament, but not sweet enough to quench his bloodthirsty rage, the dark side pulsing so strongly through his body, his veins a rush of great energies and hatred filling every dormant crack of power left behind. Blades swinging furiously, he and his fellow raging Sith had finally bested against a Zakkeg, it’s brown hide dangerously close to impaling them.
But that was what made it always worthwhile. When there is a threat, always another greater threat may arise, to give power to their bloodlust. They sought strength in war, in conflict and battle, and always began to push to their limits. With another furious swing, another flaming lunge of the electric and familiar blade, Nyax and his company had breached their way unto an old Sith temple, where they planned to purge the stone walls of the cracked jedi within.
Evil Woody Thoughts
17-09-2005, 09:31
OOC: Tag, now that I've finally found this thread...
Could use a bump anyway, for it seems that those who signed up forgot about it. The time is not yet right for IC involvement; news of war will have to reach EWT first.
Mini Miehm
17-09-2005, 15:39
OOC: I got nothing for now, I'm gonna have to wait a while to post, though the fact that I have to leave soon makes that a bit of a non-issue for today.
OOC: Okay.
IC:
He did not find any Jedi within it’s fallowed halls, but only the dripping of blood echo in his ears, the faint touch of sorrowing coldness come along like a frozen breeze, only the faint whispering and chilling form of the dead whisper in his ear. Where are you going? A voice asked, so dark and quiet, like a scullery shadow that only lurked so deftly within the confines, but then again so deep and cold. What are you doing here? It asked again, but it was an echo this time, or at least sounded like one. It seemed like a different voice, warmer voice, that did not seem so harsh and cold, but still it made the goose bumps on Nyax’s arms bulge up, in a fright, but he had to keep his focus, lest he be betrayed as weak and afraid by his fellow Sith forces. “Who is there?” He yelled to the echoing chambers, the dome-like stone ceiling dripping with moss and the pattering of the rain outside only enveloped the silence. Go away. The voices spoke again, this time darker and more frosting, swift as the cold wind, deft and light, broke upon his back. With lightsabers drawn, red shadows bouncing off the stone walls, the Sith forces followed their master deeper into the mysterious stone structure, as lights flickered up in essence, and engulfed their very thoughts. Get Out! The voices said again, no longer like a request, or a need, but a great command, as if it was within their own will that the Force allowed them to expel such intruders.
“Who are you?” Nyax yelled again, his saber held strongly in his hands, his eyes sweeping closely around, looking for any mysterious or illogical signs, as they crept closer and closer into the hallway, a dark shadow illuminated by the red lights from their sabers. “Where are you?” He yelled, but nothing could be heard that was odd; only the rain and the dripping of the blood was heard inside the halls, like a wreathing ghost that followed. There, Nyax saw a tall man, robed in blue, transparent like a see-through beast, but in a fraction of a second, he disappeared, leaving them still watching, afraid of the beings that could attack them.
“Where are you?” He asked, waiting for another reply from the ghostly cold voices, but all he heard was a screaming down in the lower depths of the hallway, as the rain still pattered softly. It seemed to never end, for them. But they were persistent, and would vow to keep going, no matter what would happen. “Where are you!” He yelled, no a desperate tone, and he knew that his fellow Sith had heard the quiet desperation beneath his voice. They turned on him, eyes hungry like savages, their energy pulsing up like fire, but an intervention from the voices had saved his life. One of his apprentices, at the back, dropped down in fury and pain, clutching at his sides, as horns grew from his ribs, markings beginning to etch black marks into his face. With a look of curiosity dampening his face, Nyax pushed his way through the crowd of soldiers and finally stood in front of his tortured apprentice, who no longer looked human. “What is going on?” Nyax asked, trying to sound powerful and imperial, but the apprentice merely had to uppercut the Sith Lord, sending him flying into the wall.
“All legions, attack!” He yelled, as his apprentices leaped towards the possessed Sith, sabers flaring and their eyes quick with hunger, but a quick gash to the left of them pierced one, then the being jumped up and slashed the other in half, the blood spraying across the stone hallway, grotesque pictures stained with dark red, as the organs flowed out, revealing something strange. The blood seeped down into the floor, being sucked into the ground like it was a thirsty sponge, draining it of blood, and the apprentice that became possessed merely got stronger, quicker, and deadlier. Something was wrong about this temple; they should have never come to this Force-forsaken place, so evil and dark and unimaginably unprocessed. Nyax had to get out, and he had to bring his apprentices with him, but he could not do it so easily, as he looked at the possessed being slaughtering his men.
One of them twisted their wrist up, and kicked the being, but it merely dodged in time and smashed the soldier across the face, sending him flying through the hallway, as a deep rumbling, like a hungry animal that laid chained and trapped beneath the end of the hall, as the temple rumbled in fury. It began to shake, and nothing else, as the possessed apprentice walked towards Nyax, his saber in his hand, and the Sith Lord vowed to destroy the unwanted corruption. “You will die, spirits, through the body of my apprentice.” He said, leaping up and his apprentice, expecting a swift saber slash, placed his saber up to block, but Nyax merely punched him squarely in the face, his hand then bleeding from the horns that cut into his sinew. “Argh.” He groaned in pain, but he let loose a great flurry of wind, throwing the apprentice into the wall, but sure enough the being rose again, and jumped onto the top of the hallway ceiling, and leapt towards Nyax with a primal instinct. In a second, Nyax gathered up his anger, his fury and his unfocused power aiming at his apprentice, jumping up and slashing his saber, but it was blocked immediately by every single quick stroke. He lunged and stabbed at the being, but it quickly jumped down onto the floor, and then jumped up again, and Nyax turned down and fell onto his back, mashing his fist into the apprentice’s face. With another great fury, channelled through the Force, he tackled the apprentice, and as he did so, he heard all the voices once more, echoing as the rumbling came forth, greater than before. “Come forth!” He yelled, but his apprentice merely lunged at him, and it was his quick dodge and instinct that saved Nyax, swiftly dropping his saber down onto the being’s neck, decapitating him as the dried and heating blood was encrusted immediately, his body falling down into a cold heap.
His team decimated, the voices still strong, he went insane, within the confines of the ancient temple.