Whill Shaman Dažbog
Master Moderator
Water is the most important element of life. For without Water, you cannot make Coffee.
Posts: 1,451
Affiliation: Ancient Order of the Whills
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Post by Whill Shaman Dažbog on Jan 27, 2023 12:01:27 GMT -8
The Sith Academy of Ryloth was established by the Brotherhood of Darkness near the end of the New Sith Wars to train Sith assassins and spies. These initiates had a greater aptitude in the Force than their brethren in the academies on Honoghr, Gentes, and Gamorr. Here recruits learned to use the dark side for secrecy, deception, and manipulation. Those who survived the rigorous training became deadly assassins, preferring use of the dark side to kill rather than with physical force.
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,192
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
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Post by Dragus on Jan 29, 2023 6:58:54 GMT -8
It was the inaugural reopening of the Ryloth Sith Academy and all the prospective students were gathered in the main hall as the staff of Dragwarts prepared to sort the potential future Sith into their respective houses. Most of the students were twi'lek, which made logistical sense since they had a high Force sensitive population and were locally sourced, though a few other species were sprinkled in there as well. One could tell without looking which table belonged to the ewok students, for their rowdy nature could be heard clearly across the hall. The headmaster nodded his snout to indicate the gamorrean physical education teacher Porkeus Hogrid who was on watch nearby to intercede.
Convincing the Supreme One to allow Dragus to reopen the Academy had taken considerable effort. Their illustrious leader was less than pleased with the dark apothecary's performance as of late and was unlikely to approve any requests to hit his inbox. Fortunately with a little help from his fellow Sith on the council, namely the Director of Advanced Technologies Darth Astera and the super computer in her private office, he had been able to upload a version of the Starkiller Virus onto the Supreme Leaders personal data-pad and used the malicious program to auto-approve all requests waiting in the leader of the Sith Eternal's email. Thus permission had been received to proceed with the venture.
The Headmaster of the Academy was wearing his signature manflesh robe as well as fake white beard that hung from his scaly snout. When questioned about the unusual garment he had simply replied that he felt it made him appear more head-mastery. In one claw he held a long stemmed pipe with a smoking bowl of ryll spice that he occasionally puffed from before blowing narcotic smoke clouds into the face of the bright eyed younglings. In his other claw he held the sorting hat, a Sith relic he had borrowed from the Black Temple on Pzob that he felt would be better applied to his new educational institution.
On a trip to Korriban, or Moraband as the kids these days liked to refer to it, he had encountered a number of quite rude spirits inhabiting one of the Sith tombs in the Valley of the Darklords that had proved terrible hosts. As punishment the dark apothecary had bound their expired souls to the hat now in his possession, which he had picked up at the Dreshdae giftshop on his way through customs.
"Let uz begin." Draggledore hissed at last, before holding up a list in his hands that appeared to have been penned in claw scratches dipped in blood. The list contained a name of every prospective student in attendance. The barabel squinted through the lenses of the specticles sitting on the end of his snout as he read the first name aloud. "A-A-Ron." He paused, looking slightly perplexed, before a thought occurred to him and he reiterated the name correctly. "Actually I believe that'z Aaron. Aaron Jankowssski!"
From the crowd of students a single human male, no more than twelve years of age, stood up from the table they had been sitting at and approached the headmaster. Next to Draggledore was an empty seat, and in the draconian administrator's claws was the sorting hat in question. The hat was little more than a worn leathery cone with a squished face formed by folds in the material. When the boy was seated, the Headmaster raised the cone like hat and placed it on the child's head. The dark spirits trapped in the garment attempted to possess the child in question, but the wards written into the hats inner lining preventing them from anything more than speaking the name of one of the five great houses. Each of the great houses was named after a Sith of unparalleled power and prestige that had made a genuine contribution to darkside society. The houses were as follows: House Bacca, House Mortale, House Havok, House Kaan, and last but not least, House Draggledore which of course was named after Dragwarts' prestigious headmaster. The hat hummed and hawed for a few moments, while still attempting in vain to possess the child, until eventually the inhabited garment relented and spoke the name of a house.
"House Mortale!" Boomed the voice of the sorting hat, ringing across the full hall and bringing shushes across the crowd. There were a few murmurs of discontent, causing the Headmaster to step forwards and silence the crowd with a wave of his claws, which happened to be the signal to the VX sidewinder rotary blasters mounted on the ceiling to begin warming their barrels. That crowd went silent.
"Now, now." Chuckled the drake in amusement. "You can't all join Houssse Draggledore." Which caused the collective gathering to laugh nervously, still eyeing the armed rotary blasters whenever they oscillated in their general direction.
As the sorting continued, it seemed only the ewok students made it into House Draggledore.
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,192
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Dragus on Feb 21, 2023 7:28:30 GMT -8
A groaning creak sounded as the thick Pzobian oak door leading into the personal quarters of the Academy's headmaster swung open. A dozen charcoal furred Night Ewoks funneled in, each carrying in their paws a gnarled branch taken from the Witch Tree, which they appeared to be using as walking staves. They thumped the butt end of these branches on the cold stone floor, creating a rhythm as they began to chant in the Celestial tongue, more commonly known as ewokese. The tone was guttural, coming from deep in their furry chests, slowly rising to a crescendo. They were joined by a thirteenth, the holiest of numbers among the Cult of the Eye, though this last was no true Night Ewok. Greybeard was a shaman, born on the Forest Moon of Endor, raised amongst the inhabitants of Bright Tree Village. He wielded a staff like the others, only his was festooned with tribal fetishes, finger bones adhered with strips of gamorrean hide that rattled against the knotted head of his walking stick. His chanting was the loudest and seemed to command the attention of all the others, his cadence of speech almost hypnotic. Of course it helped that they had all imbibed an unhealthy amount of hallucigenic fungal brew prior to beginning the ceremony. The last to enter was no mammal, but a serpent given physical form. Dragus' black scales reflected the dim light of his quarters, projected from an array of tallow candles of congealed human fat that were spread around the perimeter of the room. He carried in his left claw the severed head of a twi'lek male, holding it by one of its lekku as it oozed ichor from the stump of its neck. Upon reaching the centre of the room, the drake lord dipped his right index talon into the dripping gash, dabbing it in reasonably fresh blood. When he was done he set the grotesque item aside and began to scratch ancient Pzobian hieroglyphics on the floor, forming a circle at the very heart of the apartment. Though the blood was quick to cool, upon completion of each scrawled word of power, the vitae began to bubble and hiss, releasing a putrid steam that overpowered the sulphuric stink of Night Ewok fur. Unnaturally charged with the expired souls of the citizens of Lessu he had ritually slaughtered, the Great Devourer began to weave the currents of the malevolent fey into a spell, hissing in incoherent saurian speech that would have bled the ears of lesser beings. Tendrils of utter darkness seemed to extend from the surface of his scales, swirling around the circle drawn in blood, condensing the stolen power into a singular spot at the dark core of the clawed pattern. Even here far from its presence, he could feel the baleful glare of the Eye watching him, focusing his all-to-often spice addled mind into a precision blade.Faster and faster the currents swirled around the ritual circle, forming a sinister vortex of dark emotion and unbound hate. While the life force he had stolen from the people of Ryloth was enough to generate the complex tapestry of evil taking place in the bosom of the Academy, a sacrifice was still required, a necessary offering to satisfy the law of equivalent exchange. Dragus drew a serrated edged shikkar from his belt, its smooth wintrium surface a thing of beauty, despite the name he had given it so many years ago. He placed the edge of the Headsman against his palm and dragged it across, slicing open his scales as blood fountained in his palm. Balling his claw into a fist, he squeezed a few droplets of impure vitae into the circle, offering a part of himself to seal his pact with the Darkside.Lastly he reached a claw into the satchel of alchemical ingredients that rested against his scaled hip, rummaging around until he found a translucent vial full of elixir that shone with a sinister green glow. Bringing the vial to his jaws, he pulled the cork stopper free with his teeth, then drained the contents into his open maw. The strange potion gave the Dark Apothecary a final boost of strength, which he heartily used to complete the wicked ritual. The swirling black tendrils began to slow, coalescing into an earthly shape, one not so dissimilar to the Night Ewoks assisting with the ceremony. Sparks scattered across the stone floor as the black scaled barabel's tail spike clanged against the ground, signaling his flock to cease their chanting. At the heart of the binding circle was a thing made of smoke, with two glowing red eyes like mottes of witch-fire, formed from hate and the expired essence of six-hundred and sixty-six former citizens of Lessu.Extending two incorporeal arms, the ewok shaped smoke demon reached towards the drake lord, appearing as though it wanted a hug. Dragus took the familiar into his arms, embracing it against his scaled bosom, feeling its short stubby arms squeezing his torso with the strength of a wookiee. It sank envenomed fangs into his shoulder, sinking into the meat as it opened his scales and suckled at the wound like a leech. Dragus chuckled, patting the smoke demon on the back."You're a feisssty little rassscal, aren't ye?" He snickered with a reptilian rasp. "I think I'll call you Sssmokey."
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,192
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Dragus on Apr 7, 2023 5:54:32 GMT -8
Several of the altered creatures from the academy grounds were loaded into transports bound for Kamino, where the Sith Eternal maintained a secret underwater installation known as Hydra Station. The collection of beasts included both Doashim and Lyleks, a half dozen of each, along with several plant specimens from the Academy greenhouse.
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,192
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Dragus on Dec 20, 2023 10:52:44 GMT -8
"Come Squeakerz, we've work to do." Hissed Professor Draggledore, Headmaster of the most prestigious Sith Academy in the Outer Rim, known as Dragwarts. The aged barabel walked with a bit of a hunch, relying heavily on a gnarled staff of Pzobian oak to get around the academy grounds, being somewhat ancient by design. One of the Famine Lord's many haemonculai, the Professor had already exceeding his expiration date by several years, his love of instructing the young Sithlings helping to keep his spirit young even if his bones said otherwise. Well, that and all the ewoks he molested, his virile lust was perhaps the main driving factor. Accompanied by his hench-vermin Squeakers, a ranat of great use and quite common name among the citizens of Dragusblight, the pair made their way down to the stables where the Academy's beast mounts were kept. They arrived in time to find the first of the uvaks and ubese thorn-back war dragons bred at Dragwarts were being loaded aboard shuttles bound for the shrouded dust cloud buried deep in the heart of the Abrion Sector, a region of space known as the Cloak of the Sith. The creatures seemed especially foul tempered as cultists prodded them with electro-poles and shock-staffs, urging the beasts aboard into confined pens, of which they most certainly did not want to go. A few careless workers quickly learned to pay attention, well, the ones that survived anyways. The loss of a limb tended to do that.
Applying just a bit of mental manipulation, old Headmaster Draggledore forced several of the creatures to submit to their incarceration, dominating their minds with a fear inspiring hallucination or two. His sinister rodent assistant snickered beside him as it put ink scratches into an opened vellum volume that the Academy used to keep tally of the animals housed on its grounds. They'd be giving up quite a few, but it was all for a noble enough cause, or so it had been relayed to the Professor by his malevolent master. Better that the future Sith Knights come to rely on loyal mounts over easily malfunctioning machines. Meat was better than metal, so said the Famine Lord, which made it fact. The duo waved the transports goodbye as they took off, bound for the armoured sallyport of Kala'uun's space port, saying their goodbyes to the City Beneath the Mountain.
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,192
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Dragus on Mar 24, 2024 6:21:48 GMT -8
Dragwarts Sith Academy Within the four blackstone walls of the incense heavy alchemy lab of the most prestigious institute of darkside learning possessed by the City Beneath the Mountain, Headmaster Draggledore and his ranat assistant Squeakers were hard at work ordering a small army of Sith students as the scaled hommunculai of the Dark Apothecary went about instructing his latest class. Eager eyed twi'lek boys and girls carried cages containing miniature silicon based lifeforms from the mud flats of thrice cursed Roon, stacking the small enclosures on a thick slab of Pzobian oak used as a table, which happened to be positioned next to a bubbling Sith iron cauldron containing a foul mixture the artificial crocodilian had brewed personally. The scabrous rodent next to his shadow silken robed form opened the gate on the cages one after another, dragging out the squealing occupant of each before dumping the squirming mudmen into the boiling pot, which was lit with the digested remains of former students who'd strayed too close to the inhabitants of the academy stables. Leaning his bearded snout in, the academically inclined hommonculai savoured the pungent stench of cooked manure as he gripped a long handled ladle used to stir the contents of his forming potion. The cauldron seemed on the verge of overflowing with each new mudman added to the mix, though this rarely lasted long as whatever moisture was contained within their oddly animated bodies was soon cooked out as their material forms became concentrated into a blended mud stew."There iz one unbreakable truth to the universsse." Hissed the saurian headmaster, his freakish barabel physique appearing diminished by the billowing star speckled robes he wore that made his prehistoric predatory form seem smaller than it actually was. Those stars were actually thin shuriken of cortosis that had been threaded through the light swallowing shadow silk of his robes, refracting the pale yellow light of tallow candles of congealed human fat that were lit by their hundreds across the academy grounds. The draconian dean directed his dinosaur snout towards the pale faced children providing him fodder for his alchemy experiment. "The law of equivalent exchange. In order to obtain or create sssomething, sssomething of equal value mussst be lossst or dessstroyed. Try az you might to prove otherwissse, thiz iz an undeniable reality of the material universsse. That iz why we mussst make thiz offering." He gestured with an empty claw to a shrieking mudman gripped in Squeaker's gnarled paws, drawing his student's attention to it as the verminous underling dumped the living sentient creature into fuming cauldron.Drawing heavily on the sacred spice the night prior, the headmaster had been granted a prophetic vision by the Almighty Eye, one that haunted his waking hours and demanded to make the transition from inspired dream to nightmare of reality. A golem, a Sith Mud Golem, born of the silicon lifeforms that wallowed in the muck that covered much of tidal locked Roon, the heart of the Sith Eternal Empire. Using the unequalled science of alchemy, the hommonculai hoped to create a chimaera, binding dozens of the miniature mudmen into a much larger construct enhanced by the corrupting influence of the darkside of the Force.In the dim and dirty streets of the city beneath the academy, Squeakers' fellow underkin were scouring ever dark corner for unwary citizens caught after curfew, putting them to the knife in an orgy of blood and slaughter that emboldened the currents of the malevolent fey captured by the spells woven around wicked Kala'uun. When Draggledore focused his hatred to conjure power and bend those currents to his will, he found them easy to manipulate and mold, like clay in a sculptors claws. While the saurian was unable to sweat, a few drops of his tainted blood made it into the pot, imbuing the forming malefic sentience with a sliver of the Famine Lord's curse. As the stew in the cauldron bubbled, a disfigured face formed in the boiling mud, expressing a ghastly groan rattled the stained glass windows of the lab. "It'z alive!" Snarled the headmaster, extracting the sorcerous ladle from the cauldron as a molting shape rose above the lip of the Sith cast-iron receptacle. Steaming muck spilled out onto the floor and put out the corpse fires with an extinguishing hiss, before gurgling and popping with toxic expulsions of swamp gas, until it concentrated into a growing bipedal form that towered over the draconian dean and his scabbed servant. With a sweep of its flailing limbs, the mud giant swept up several of the Sith apprentices and submerged them into itself, swallowing them whole as they vanished from visible sight."Behind me!" Roared the researching reptilian, drawing Squeakers and several of the closest students behind his scaled back. Planting his foot talons, the headmaster straightened his conical hat and charged his claws with sorcerous power, causing blue forks of Sith lightning to jump between his talon tips and scorched the scales of his palm a deeper shade of lightless black.FFFFFFFFSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! CRACK! A bolt of lightning curst from his crackling digits and struck the mud golem dead centre, flash cooking it in place until its muddy form dried and cracked like sun scorched dirt. His attack instantly killed the two apprentices trapped within the smoking mass, their expiring essence quickly stolen by the fiendish instructor to replenish his reserves of Force magicules from that attack. Smoke quickly turned to steam as mud bubbled out from the cracks in the dried crust formed on the golem's exterior, alerting the wizard lizard that there was still life within its unnatural form. Success. Stage One was complete. He now knew how to create a Sith Mud Golem. Now for Stage Two, which was arguably the more difficult part, figuring out how to control one.
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