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STAR WARS: KOTOR: The Trayus Legacy

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A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...


The galaxy has entered a new age of darkness. DARTH TRAYA may have been defeated upon the dark planet of Malachor V, but this ultimate wound in the Force remains intact. The JEDI EXILE has ascended the throne of the Trayus Academy, followed by the remaining Sith marauders and assassins whom she had not slain. In order to cement her reign, the Exile must find and subdue one more piece of a galactic puzzle: DARTH REVAN. To that end, she is prepared to enlist and enslave anyone. Those who venture to the consummate crucible of Malachor V may never return...




Why, Traya? Why, at long last, did you force me to fight and kill you?


You could have had everything you wanted: my defeat, and the death of the Force itself. You could have given the galaxy back its liberty: no more Jedi, no more Sith, and no more wars of faith that require the blood of the faithful. You might have loosened the shackles that bind us all in our proper places: the roles dictated by the Entity you despised.


Instead you yielded to it, but claimed that I could make it yield to ME...


You taught that Revan had no choice but to be redeemed, because the Force willed it. You said that Malak turned against him for this same reason. When you spoke to that servant of Atris, her Handmaiden, you asked her if there was truly choice within the Force. She could not answer, and nor can I. How much of our decisions are based upon our own will, and how much upon a higher power? After all the endless weeks of traveling with you, I still don't know. Traya, your answers only bring more questions! The cycle's infinite!


Why did you allow me to break you, instead of doing the same to me, as I did with those foolish Jedi Masters? They were nothing but empty vessels, containers for the Force housed in shells of meat. As soon as I withdrew the Force from them, they dropped like flies. Only the husks of their bodies remained. Why did you make me the stronger, so that I might expose your weakness in the end? You cleaved my mind in half, between "yes" and "no", faith and doubt, good and evil, to use the Force or to kill it entirely.




Why...why did you bind yourself to me, as Master to apprentice?


Perhaps Revan knows. You taught him this principle in the beginning.


And now? It is time for you to meet your grave. Trouble me no more.


And with that, Vyshe, the Exile of the Jedi Order, hurled Darth Traya's body into the yawning abyss of the Trayus Core. Her tomb would be the heart of the planet itself, that dark place where the One Who Came Before converted Jedi to Sith. Vyshe basked in the pull of its power, and claimed it for her own.


Her first task was to choose an apprentice - one who would be bound to her.

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Blint slowly opened his eyes. Everything was a blur to him. He was breathing heavily when he woke up.


"Scanning... Scanning... Medical Scan Complete. Cybernetic Enhancements are online."


The last thing Blint remembered was his ship, as it came plummeting down into Malachor V. He couldn't remember much else after that, everything went dark.


"It seems the subject is waking up..." came a voice. A blurry figure walked towards him. "Ah... but your retinal display has not completely adjusted it seems... it will in time."


It was hard for Blint to breath. "Where... where am I?"


"It does not matter. We have uses for you." The blurry figure was pacing around the room, as if examining what Blint thought to be monitors on top of desks. "You took quite a lot of damage it seems from the crash. Broken Spinal Cord, Frontal Lobe Damage,

Legs crushed beyond repair... Its a medical wonder why you are even still alive."


Blint couldn't move his arms and legs. Then he realised he was strapped to some sort of operating table.


"Save for your arm, which seems to have been already replaced before the crash, we have outfitted you with state of the art prosthetics. It took some time, but we managed to completely replace your spinal cord with a mechanical one. Your legs had to be amputated and replaced with mechanical ones. We outfitted you with prosthetic eyes, connected to a neural implant to treat the frontal lobe damage. We even upgraded your arm... a little personal touch. In short, we saved your life."


"But... why?" was all Blint managed to breath out.


The doctor walked towards him, and menacingly grabbed his jaw. "We have uses for you." he replied.

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(I'm finally back online after my eight-year-old modem went the way of all flesh - and, coincidentally, all electronics. Now for Vyshe to notice her prey...)


Someone's here...


The new Dark Lady of the Sith, both the claimant and the claimed property of Malachor V, raised her head slightly. She had been peering down into the same abyss into which she'd cast Darth Traya's body, hoping to find some clue within the blackness as to why she - Vyshe - had been chosen for her sinister mission. Did it matter? Of course, but for now, through the Force, she perceived an intruder upon the planet's surface. Should she let the roaming storm beasts, both large and small, have their sport?


No. This planet may be a graveyard with a void for a heart, but I do not intend to die in isolation. A potential follower has come to me, and I will meet him or her. If receptive, I will teach this one. If not, then battle will be my recourse. I did not learn the ways of Juyo from Master Kavar for naught - when I consumed him, naturally. This visitor will feed my power either way.


With that, she rose and made her way out of the Trayus Academy, searching for what she sensed was a downed spacecraft. The odors of burning metal and scorched electronics were in the air, growing stronger as Vyshe made her way to the only resemblance of a landing surface upon the planet that still existed. There she saw a vessel, clearly mangled, and two distant figures.

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((I am SO rusty, it's not even funny!))


Shadows faint, like whispers on a night wind, crept closer to the newly crowned Dark Lady of the Sith, as she perceived her quarry in the distance, hazed and shrouded figures began to emerge from the walls themselves it seemed!


Then...There! Before her stood a figure, like-as unto the shadows had birthed him; sprung from the air itself, a tall foreboding figure, a shaft, perhaps a staff? Held at a perfect right angle, vertically, in his hand. Masked, motionless, no less than half a foot away, her view blocked. Had he not appeared before her so suddenly to cut her off from her single-minded objective, one might think he truly were a statue, a stone sentinel watching over the hollow crypt that is Malachor.


Soon others began to appear, not so suddenly, not so seamlessly as he. Assassins all, though in the far distance behind her, other, bulkier, less hidden figures trudged and hobbled closer. Marauders. Soon she was surrounded.


Enoch spoke, "Vyshe."


Eery and disturbing silence fell, all were motionless.


"You have slain the Master," the voice was like inky velvet, comely, but with a slick, almost disgusting undertone to it. Like the shadows themselves were caressing one's skin.


The figure finally moved, dropping to one knee, holding the metallic shaft horizontally in both hands before his masked and hooded face. The figures around her began to drop to one knee also, heads bowed; the assassins first and swiftest, whilst the marauders were more hesitant, but their respect (as well as fear) of the figure before The new Dark Lady more than compelled them to follow the example of their brethren. It was obvious the figure before her had some place upon Malachor V, and with it held a position above that of his lesser Sith subordinates, even if by some, begrudgingly.


His was the only head unbowed.


"Now you are the Master. Whom do we serve?" An odd question, as the figure obviously seemed to know her name, but there was a weight behind his query that one could almost feel.

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"Whom do you serve, indeed?" asked the Dark Lady, a hint of a smile spreading across her lips. "Know this: After I struck down the Lady of Betrayal, I stared straight down into the core of this planet: her tomb. There I came to know the Void that the galaxy refuses to acknowledge, and I came to know true power.


"I am Darth Velatrix now, and this attribute of power is my namesake. You shall serve me or perish, which I know that you will not do. We Sith celebrate attachment, and that includes attachment to life itself. Through this, our bond to existence and survival above all costs, we will all receive answers."


Velatrix stepped toward Enoch, and let the long train of her dark robes brush his immobile form. "What is it you want?" she asked him. "The same as I? I tell you, not only this, but more. I can see it in you, this gnawing of a certain craven desire heretofore kept hidden, and this pleases me. Perhaps in time, through obeying me, you will find what you seek. For now, do you sense it?"


Her eyes began to glow a menacing orange-red. "We have visitors."

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"I'm telling you Cyn, this is it. This is the job that makes us rich," Vex said to her mechanical colleague as Malachor V came into view.


"Hmm. That's what you said about the two Smugglers we caught, and the group of bandits we took down, and the Mandalorian we caught, and the..." Cyn started to say before Vex held her hand up to silence him.


"Okay, okay...I get it. This isn't some low life we're talking about here. This is that Jedi Exile everyone's making such a big deal about. We take her down and we'll be set for life. A couple nice guns for me, and if you're good maybe I'll pick you out a new color. I'm thinking a nice magenta," Vex said with a smirk, teasing her robotic companion.


"Oh ha ha. You organics and your makeovers" the droid said dryly.


Vex and Cyn were a new duo to the bounty hunting business, but they were quickly rising up in status. They started dealing with petty thugs as most do. What helped them get better targets was their ability to work in near perfect harmony with one another. Vex tended to favor distance and sheer firepower to deal with her foes. She was a quick wit who was just as likely to fire a blaster as she was an insult. Wrap that up with a jetpack for mobility and one had a very deadly killing machine. The only thing that could make her better was...well, a deadly killing machine. Cyn was the closest she would get to that. While not a killer, Cyn was a highly skilled fighter often taking foes by surprise with his unarmed fighting styles and upgraded agility. He is perfect up close and the small shields he can activate on his arms and legs allow him to block most blades, even lightsabers.


"So what exactly is our plan for dealing with this Jedi Exile?" Cyn asked.


"We land the ship, find our little jedi, offer the whole come with us and you'll live yada yada, maybe fight her, and then bring her in. Simple," Vex said.


"So you say," Cyn replied as their ship started to land.

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Soon Blint's retinal display became operational, and his vision was no longer blurry. But his entire body was in severe pain. He soon realised where he was: He was laying on an operating table, inside of some laboratory - filled with all sorts of machines and display monitors. Across from him was a hologram of a human body - presumably a scan of Blint's body to indicate his vitals.


The doctor before him was very wrinkled, his hair slickened back and had a long hook nose. He wore what appeared to be a science lab tunic. His eyes glowed with a radiant orange.


"You are on Malachor V. We salvaged what was left of you from the ship you crash landed in. We saved your life - not an easy process... now you must pay the price for your revival. You must serve us."


Blint tried to move his arm, but it was strapped down. He pulled harder, and the restraint seemed to snap off his brute strength. Blint stared angrily at the doctor. He wanted to snap him in half for what he did. He would rather have died. Blint snapped the other restraint off, and landed on the floor.


The doctor raised his hand, and suddenly Blint felt some invisible force pushing him away. Blint tried to lunge at him again, but this time bolts of lightning errupted from the doctor's hand. Blint was in sudden shock, and fell on the floor.


"We remade you. You will be obedient." the Doctor said coldly. Blint raised his head.


"Why... have you done this to me."


"I am a scientist." the doctor announced. "you are an experiment. You are the product of Sith Alchemy and Technology grafted into the one embodiment. A prototype if you will. One out of the hundreds of test subjects I had to have survived. That gives you purpose."


The doctor knelt down in front of him. "You will serve me. I understand you were previously a soldier for the Republic - a tech specialist. I've read into your history. But the Republic has abandoned you. You are nothing to no one, but me. And you are nothing to me but a tool. You are a Machine!"


"W-what... is your name?" Blint asked. The Doctor smiled.


"Doctor Balian Vasere. Why do you ask?"


"So I can kill you." Blint promised.


Vasere laughed. "I look forward... to seeing you try." Doctor Vasere put him unconscious. He rose, admiring his marvellous creation. He will be useful as a tech specialist for the Sith. Especially with all the cybernetic enhancements Vasere designed specifically for him. And he will obey, whether he wants to or not.


Vasere was too concentrated on his work that he didn't pay much focus on the outside world. Though he was a trained force user, his real gift was with science and sith alchemy - which explains why his senses weren't well tuned compared to most Sith Knights that lay within the Academy. He exited his Laboratory, down the halls and outside the Academy. He watched as many Sith Students and Assassins bowed before their new master - the new lady of the Sith. It would seem that Darth Traya and her apprentice Sion had been overthrown.

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"Whom do you serve, indeed?" The still figure, kneeling before her, head still raised made no motion, said nothing, simply listened. "Know this: After I struck down the Lady of Betrayal, I stared straight down into the core of this planet: her tomb. There I came to know the Void that the galaxy refuses to acknowledge, and I came to know true power. I am Darth Velatrix now, and this attribute of power is my namesake. You shall serve me or perish, which I know that you will not do. We Sith celebrate attachment, and that includes attachment to life itself. Through this, our bond to existence and survival above all costs, we will all receive answers."


A twinge, not even noticeable, but it was there - This one was arrogant.


The figure's new mistress stepped forward, her murky robes caressing his kneeling form, brushing over him as if in some symbolic manner of acceptance, or bizarre baptism. "What is it you want? The same as I? I tell you, not only this, but more. I can see it in you, this gnawing of a certain craven desire heretofore kept hidden, and this pleases me. Perhaps in time, through obeying me, you will find what you seek. For now, do you sense it?"


Craven? Maybe the others, but he, no, meek and cowardly he was not. Did she see something in him he did not? Profoundly improbably, if among all that he knew, he knew himself better than anyone. His methods & actions may be indirect, but it followed a path, a set, blips, points, guided in the right manner, destruction easily followed.


Want? Yes, what did he want? Yes. That's what he would tell her.


"To serve," he uttered quietly, only audible to her ears.


He finally stood, facing in the direction she stared, yet as before, perfectly still.


"I am Enoch Zeszh, known among our brethren as Darth Custodiet. I am, 'The Watcher', of this place, of the Trayus Academy, of Malachor itself; Master Sith Assassin, and a hand of whomever is Master." He announced more audibly, pausing as he barely edged his head over to view her before returning his gaze forward and adding, "Or Mistress. Whichever hand that is, is entirely up to....You. Now." It was apparent that he was by some means a part of Malachor, and as much as he was a part of it, it was in turn a part of him. A trait likened unto that of the late Sith Triumvirate. If that were the case, he had been watching long indeed.


He pondered deep within himself. Quite boastful this one. Enoch had killed lessers and even peers for such behavior. With his own words he had made sure to keep her from thinking him less than what he was, a mistake few survived. Yet, there were things, there, in her words: frailties, brittle moments, revelations of things that were 'less-than-so'. He could see them, ways to follow....


A spark, a sudden tint in her eyes. "We have visitors."


By this time the other Sith had stood and left, the assassins vanishing into haze, and the marauders slinking off into the shadowed crevices of the corrupt planet.


Enoch motioned outward with his free arm, holding it perfectly straight, pointing, as a stalwart guide of stone might.


"The resident Sith Alchemist, self-proclaimed Doctor and scientist. 'Doctor' Balian Vesere. Another among Malachor's hidden secrets and....treasures. The other," he paused, as if he could see something she could not, even at this distance. "Broken, beaten, hateful, a......Man."


He lowered his arm, falling silent.

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Darth Velatrix's eyes clouded over slightly, becoming pensive. "Apparently, this dark wound in the Force contains more festering pustules than I thought. Good." She signaled for her new assassin followers to rise. "Come. Let's go and see this good 'Doctor', and the Man with him. As always, be wary. I won't be deposed as soon as I've taken the throne, and neither will you be slain."


She turned crisply, reaching out with her Force perceptions toward the vessel.

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Vex exited the ship, quickly followed by Cyn. Vex checked the shielding on her armor as she took in her surroundings. This was the place the Jedi Exile was last spotted at, and if they were lucky she'd still be here. Vex couldn't help but be a little excited to see this Jedi Exile with her own eyes. The two had dealt with both jedi and sith before, but certainly no one as "famous". She was looking forward to the future fight and hoped she wouldn't be disappointed. With her weapons and gear in check, next came Cyn. She lowered her goggles, letting them rest over her eyes. She tapped a small button a few times, which in turn switched to a few different visions. One was fairly normal, but contained Cyn's current status. When she was sniping with her carbine, she found it useful to keep that current mode up as it didn't get in the way and let her keep an eye on her partner.


Cyn in turn always had Vex's vitals in check as well as armor status. He was always ready to assist her if he noticed any issue with her vitals and she would do the same if he took too much damage. While they were fairly capable bounty hunters on their own, united they were a force to be reckoned with. Cyn scanned the area as they walked, trying to detect signs of life. So far it seemed rather quiet in the little area they were at...he didn't like that.


Vex lifted the goggles back up once more, much more at ease than Cyn. She was never really worried about these kinds of situations. They'd find their target soon enough, and then they'd become very very rich. With that they two could get gear that would make them unstoppable. She grinned to herself at the new kinds of weapons, armor, and other gadgets they would be able to afford. Today was going to be a good day, she could just sense it.

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He who rend both heavens and earth.


A bloodied, broken man was chained to a stone slab, screaming various obscenities as he was surrounded by several dark-robed men. At the head of this gathering was tall, slender man, with long silver hair draping down his back. His features were expressionless as he raised his hand, and his compatriots flanked the stone slab in a semicircle, extending their hands as well. At once, the screaming man suddenly became consumed in a bluish-orange inferno. He anguished in an inscrutably painful immolation, writhing and screaming as his flesh seared. The purple glow emitted from the flames reflected in the eyes of Daimonos, standing erect as he drained the lifeforce of the man.




I am God, and all other gods are my imagery. I gave birth to myself. I am millions of forms excreating; eternal; and nothing exists except through me. Yet I am not them - they serve me.


That occurred a few days ago. Just another sacrifice to Daimonos, just another man whose power was snuffed to augment his own. Many would call him immoral, sick, and twisted, but what was so wrong about the utter annihilation of one's enemies?


Nothing. Absolutely nothing.


He walked upon the surface of Malachor, barren and desolate, with jagged spires and valleys shaping the landscape, and an ominous green aura permeating throughout. The air fluctuated with hate, anguish, and betrayal. Something felt off, very off, as if a great power had suddenly been extinguished by something lesser - but at the same time yet so much more.


He continued onward.

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"Come. Let's go and see this good 'Doctor'"


"I believe that won't be necessary..." Doctor Vasere interrupted, just as the new Sith Lady and her minions were about to head towards the crashed vessel seen from the distance.

"I am right here."


He approached Velatrix and bowed before her.


"Doctor Balian Vasere, at your service m'lady." he introduced. "Those men you see in the distance are my scouts, salvaging the remains of the ship."

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"Good," Velatrix replied. "Have they found anything of note so far?"


He's hiding something. "Also, have you performed any clinical trials lately?"


The air of Malachor V was damp with approaching rain, slightly tinged with acid. Luckily, her robes were thick enough that it wouldn't affect her. She still wanted to get back inside the Academy, and soon, but not before she was finished with her investigation.

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"Have they found anything of note so far?"


Vasere stood up straight with his hands behind his back, a sign of respect.


"My men salvaged what they could from the vessel. From what we gathered, it was a simple trading vessel that crashed here due to engine failure. No survivors..."


"Also, have you performed any clinical trials so far?"


The new lady was smart and calculating. Vasere thought it be useless trying to hide his secret project from her. Especially considering she took down the Sith Triumvirate. Vasere could sense the immense power within this woman. Even he wouldn't dare to challenge it... yet.


"No survivors... save for one. An incredibly gifted tech specialist. I did everything that I could to save him." the doctor smirked. "He will be incredibly useful to me. He will be obedient. Would you like to meet him?"

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"Of course," Velatrix replied as a bolt of white-chartreuse lightning flashed through the sky. She put up her dark hood to shield her face. "I assume that wherever he is, there will be shelter from this incoming storm. Correct?" Her eyes sparked with keen anticipation beneath the black material, so that they glowed like two embers. Other Sith hid their passions for stealth purposes, but she?


She didn't need to hide anymore - not from Darth Traya, or anyone.

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"I assume that wherever he is, there will be shelter from this incoming storm. Correct?"


Doctor Vasere smirked. "With respect, I don't think you have lived on Malachor long enough to realise how intense storms can be on this dead world. But I am sure you will grow used to them in time."


He walked towards the entrance of the Academy. "If you will please follow me, to my laboratory."


The doctor lead them inside, through the great halls of the Academy towards an elevator. One elevator trip later, they headed towards the entrance to Vasere's lab.


"I only ask that you will not be alarmed. He is still recovering - it will take him time to adjust to his new prosthetics." he opened the door and lead them inside.


Vasere's lab was dimly lit, save for a few areas for vital equipment then had to be shun with a bright lights. Across the metal catwalk to the main platform was Vasere's crown glory. The man was strapped to the operating table again, unconscious. His face featured scars, where his implants and prosthetic eyes were put into place. His bare chest was imbeded with some

type of life support system in the form of an octagonal panel. His mechanised arm was bulky, blinking with green lights. His feet and legs were replaced with mechanical ones that made him look like he could run great distances without tiring or wearing out. Vasere proudly presented his science project to Velatrix and the others.


"His body has adapted well to the Cybernetic Augmentations that I have specifically designed for him. The neural implants and eyes grafted into him provide him with perfect vision and more alert thought processes. His targeting systems are also superb for handling most firearms. His spinal cord had been snapped from the impact of the crash, so I removed it entirely and replaced it with something a little more durable and shockproof that will also provide him with improved upper body strength. His legs will also provide him with significantly improved running speed and dexterity. But his most significant feature is his arm... outfitted with a computer interface link that also doubles as a wrist blade, uploaded with the latest hacking software and cyber warfare. It has also been outfitted with twin blasters that come out as two barrels hidden in a designated compartment."


Doctor Vasere stood over him. "He is the perfect machine."


The machine groaned. Using the force, the Doctor tapped into his mind and awoke him. He slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to see the faces surrounding him.


"You have guests... well, don't be rude. Introduce yourself!"


He stared blankly at the crowd. At the woman wearing black robes.


"...Blint..." he groaned. "My name... is Blint."

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Velatrix stared. She dared not even breathe. This creature, this machine who was far more than any droid could ever be, utterly transfixed her. I've never seen such a magnificent creation, she thought to herself, and it is mine. What need have I to mold its mind, when it has already been shaped for me by Doctor Vasere? What doubts do I have that it will obey me instantly?


None whatsoever. She moistened her drying eyes with one slow blink.


"Greetings, Blint," she said in a low and assessing voice. "My name is Darth Velatrix, Lady of Power. I am your new Mistress. What is your condition?"


This was Sith-speak for Are you all right? or How are you feeling? The former two phrases suggested at least a token amount of compassion - concern, even if feigned, for the other person's well being. Velatrix's words contained no such sentiment. They only meant: Are you ready to serve?

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Blint stared blankly at Velatrix - the new lady of the Sith. He couldnt tell if her question was genuine with concern or not. Now that he was more focussed, several questions raced through his mind at once.


What were the Sith doing on Malachor V? What were they planning? What did they have in store for Blint? And more importantly, were these the same Sith that attacked his homeworld Telos?


Sure, everybody knew that it was Darth Malak who gave the order to bombard the planet, killing his wife and daughters... but were these people involved? They didn't appear to be the same Sith that he fought against. And he killed more than enough Sith to quench his thirst for vengeance. But over time, he realised killing more Sith didn't truly satisfy him. He already came to terms with his family's death.


It didn't matter any more to Blint. The old Blint Grayson was dead - he was killed in the crash. And though deep down he wished he stayed that way, he would have to embrace the fact that he was given another chance.


What did matter though was this - he will kill Doctor Balian Vasere. For playing god with his life. His quarrel was with him, and him alone. Afterall, Blint didn't choose this new life. He will play along and serve Velatrix, because through her he can plot his vengeance. And when the time is right, nobody will stand in his way.


"I am ready to serve..." he replied.



((waiting on the others to reply))

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((Sorta went on a nonstop Alice in Chains addiction for a little bit.))


Daimonos trekked down a winding canyon path, looking upwards where storm clouds ominously loomed. It would not be wise to remain outside for much longer - storms on Malachor were rarely present. After a few minutes, he made his way out of the canyon and stepped into a valley, with a large chasm that split through it. At the opposite end of the valley was a large, ancient structure, with a thin curved bridge extended outwards across the chasm.


Daimonos walked forward, taking long, slow strides as he walked over the bridge and stopped at the doorway to the structure. Something was wrong. Something just felt wrong. He moved his hand and opened the door, taking a slight pause before entering the Trayus Academy.


As he walked down the central hallway in the foyer of the academy, numerous shimmers began to flicker throughout the air. Without warning, several Sith assassins appeared to materialize out of thin air, and various marauders and the like came into view from the shadows. Quite curiously, The Watcher was not amongst them. Those who had recognized Daimonos quickly fell to their knees in respect and fear. The rest soon followed, albeit much more so in fear and awe. The aura that he gave was one of sick, twisted wickedness; not malevolence, but extreme trepidation and discomposure. Complete amorality. Anyone within his vicinity who felt the Force would immediately sense his unique presence. And even those who didn't would feel very uncomfortable.


It was at this moment when he came to his realization - the disturbance, so to speak. The Masters were dead. And in their place was a powerful presence, although it would be more accurate to say a lack of a presence. One filled with contempt, hatred, and arrogance.


He stood silent, completely still. He made a motion with his hand that beckoned the Sith around him to rise, and they moved out of his way, vanishing just as quickly as they materialized. He walked deeper into the academy, determined to find the source of this... enigma.

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((Darth Velatrix is back, everyone, and presently taking an online writing class!))


Someone else is here - not Blint, not Vasere, and not my new assassins. This one is... Velatrix's brain swam for a moment, and then righted itself with a snap - but a snap back into place, and not out of it. This one is NOT mine.


"Blint?" she asked the Machine warily. "Come with me. You too, Vasere. The rest of you, guard this Academy and all of its secrets. Malachor V has more denizens than I first believed. On second thought..." She threw a sharp glance at the Watcher. "I'm going to need you, too, if the presence I sense has brought a squadron." She gave her entourage a cold smile. "There is power in numbers."


Velatrix gave a signal to move out with her right hand, and together they strode toward the outer core of the Academy.

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Vasere used the force to release Blint's straps. Blint took a moment before stepping off the angled operating table. He glanced at Vasere, the intent to kill him was still present. But Blint acknowledged it was not the right time.


"You heard her, Blint. Get moving. Show her what you are made of and make me proud."


Blint obliged and obeyed. He followed the mistress out of the lab and towards the outer core of the academy. During the walk, Blint examined his arm. Animating it through sheer will, a pair of blaster gun barrels popped from the wrist of his prosthetic arm. He slid them back into their compartment and released his hidden wrist blade that doubled as a computer interface link.


Vasere may have been a bastard for what he had done, but nobody could question the fine craftsmanship he displayed. Blint pulled the Wrist Blade back, and continued to follow Velatrix and the others.

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