NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: my old nation "Zactarn Prime" has been deleted so I am going to establish an RP as too what happened and what is too happen in its aftermath




IC: The Jedi uprising has been consistent in the Sith Empire of Zactarn Prime...and war after war and battle after battle was fought in an attempt by the Jedi to overthrow whom they called an "Evil Tyrant" in the Sith Emperor Darth Vaclavious. He ruled over his empire for 27 years...including the expanison with ally Jenrak into another Galaxy. Well as all this was happening the Jedi were docile and a mere wisp in the winds of time. But in one organized outlash the Jedi were able to beat the Sith back from the Outer systems to the core...and even toward the planet of Zactarn Prime. The Jedi ships pounded the 3-Layer Shielding surrounding the planet until they finally smashed through. After 27 Years of Sith rule and years of bloodshed the Jedi had taken control of the planet....but what was of Darth Vaclavious you ask? He escaped to the outer rims of the NuPhontic Galaxy. Vaclavious....ashamed and betrayed by his troops....his people....his empire, embrased a young brash Tunroth Force user. His name Ja'ak Huwlatorr. He is a master in Saber combat using a Lightning Whip and a double-sided saber as well. However his Force Powers as a whole are great but he is hot-tempered and he can't clear his mind in battle, rendering his Powers useless. But Vaclavious, sending his apprentice to do the work, has been slowly regaining his power and trust within his Galaxy to overthrow the Chancellor Tyan Hark and the Jedi Council.



OOC: I'm hoping to just go with this...I have no set guidelines or anything in place I just want Vaclavious to resume power. You may come in as my apprentice Ja'ak or a rebel or one of the Jedi COuncil members. I use most of my information from the SW Universe so feel free to have a Jawa or a Geonosian anywhere in this RP or anything like that just hop in as you please.

OOC: Need any help?

OOC: Need any help?

OOC: hell yea....you can RP your fleet army and help me organize a rebellion or something but I need a way to set this up where we revolt against the Jedi

bumpage

baby turn around and let me see that sexy body go BUMP BUMP BUMP

tag, until i can figure out how to bring myself in to the rp.

OOC: hell yea....you can RP your fleet army and help me organize a rebellion or something but I need a way to set this up where we revolt against the Jedi

OOC: Do you have msn or aim?

tag, until i can figure out how to bring myself in to the rp.

OOC: I'm doing this too...

OOC: Do you have msn or aim?

yeah....KrazedKannibal its on AIM......don't ask about the Screen Name long story

The ways of the Twisting Nether are often very mysterious when compared with the relative dullness of real-space and the Great Dark. Sailing upon tides of pure magic withthe raw stuff of the Nether, of fel energy itself, saturating everything about them, it was often difficult for the Scourge to remember that they were essentially beings of reality.

The Death Becomes Them, a Plagueheart class battlecruiser, tore through the thin veil that seperated all races from real enlightenment and into a realm that stank of meat and sinyews. They knew they were off-course, random evasions had been forced upon them by the sinewy prows of Legion vessels within the Nether, and so they emerged into a strange system. They had intended to arrive at one of their new outposts, an Iceworld with a thriving Necropolis and mining operation, codenamed as Graveholme, for essential resupply and inspection. None of them needed to eat, or drink, or sleep...But it helped to bring more materials and "new recruits", corpses from a hundred different wars and graveyards, silently stolen by the Cult of the Damned's elite Corpseguard.

"What do we have?" A gravelly voice hissed from the slack mouth of an armored warrior, a blade held at his side, a pisol holstered upon his belt. "This isn't even close to Graveholme!" He snarled, drawing a boney finger alone a wall-mounted chart. "We've went further than you assured" He hissed, drawing his finger across the worn parchment, towards the figure who sat at one of the desks, crude wiring forced into an exposed skull.

"My apologies, Death Knight, but the essential maneuvers plunged us further through the Nether than I intended. We have arrived in unknown territory, and the Netherdrive will take a while to reconfigure. The Well's energies require careful maintenance. We can, of course, broadcast a distress call on conventional Common and Hive comms." A smirk split the navigators withered features, his gleaming white teeth set in a rictus of decaying flesh. "We'll soon we sought out."

"We had better..."

Far below, Arcanist Martin Deathhallow reached to his belt, letting his metallic fingers close around the wand. He touched it to the air, watching as symbols seemed to flow from the walls, half-arcane and half-fel in their origination. He let his fingers that remained flesh move amongst the letters, singling out those that he would have to meditate upon, and alter with the wand. He gurgled softly. He still remembered the disastrous combat with the Legion, long ago, that had cost him his arm. The prostethic was better, more sensitive, aglow with the raw stuff of the Nether and the artful craft of Northrend's finest.

He marvelled at how well he was suited to a life beneath the tomb-decks and command-levels, in maintenance with only the energies of the Well-water to fascinate him as they moved and flowed through thin air, into the techno-arcane construct that was the Netherdrive. Other reserves were refined and replicated, forced into essential matters such as weapons or ship power. Life support was only an issue in some areas, where the living Cultists resided, often with gas-masks and great-coats that sustained them through the more perilously dead areas.

He chuckled softly.

It was a novelty, being Scourge. Being dead. He was a slave and a thrall to the Lich King, but found himself most often able to think on his feet and appreciate his 'gifts'. He knew not fear, or pain. He was not troubled by true emotions, merely their dark reflections, whimsical and cynical takes on this hostile universe. He often wondered if they were alone in their enlightenment as a species, alone in being able to view the universe with such capricious amusement, alone in their worship of the Lich King. It didn't matter, he decided as he altered another arcane symbol with a crackle of magical concentration, so long as they worked tirelessly to bring his blessings to all corners of the Universe, and to nestle his message in the hearts of the downtrodden.

Soon there'd be a Corpse for a King on every inhabited world, and necropoli as far as he could imagine. Wouldn't that be glorious...

*poke* since ZP is back, does that mean this thing is on?