I've loves star wars since I was a kid and with this forum I have a chance to contribute to the legacy in my own way.

Author's imput: Greetings again fellow citizens of the galaxy. Its been a while since my last post and im here to tell you that your wait has been briefly rewarded. Slowly it comes together as characters are introduced and settings are made. Next chapter we'll finally get to meet In'fer'us as he acts as escort to the dreaded lady Lav'as as she schemes to her own path of power within Sith society. We'll also get to see the interaction of the siblings Sul'fer'us and Flam'rus as they discuss thier futures with the family and the empire. Please stay tuned till then and enjoy.

Chapter 2 Temple courtyard, estate Vul'canis The temple was nothing grand. Compared to the rest of the estate it holds a small space on the grounds. When the estate was first being built the designers only had so little room to work with. To maximize space a courtyard was constructed as the main feature so the family can utilize the temple grounds for a multitude of purposes. It was a rectangular enclosed space, white stone face for the floor with the emblem of the Sith empire stamped in the center, surrounded by white marble steps leading into the pylons that supported the temple roof. Everyone had a use for the courtyard. The faithful prayed in front of shrine house where Vul'canis personal items were kept under lock and key. The curious sat on the marble steps for better lighting to read their scripts under the hanging braziers. Lovers said their wedding vows in front of family standing over the imperial emblem. Yet its most common use was sport; specifically the art of combat. Blood has been spilled here with more than one generation and sometimes spilled with life. The way of the Sith is harsh but disciplined. A way of life young Sul'fer'us would soon learn and live by but first he had to parry his uncle's barrage of saber strikes. To an outside observer Sul'fer'us didn't seem to physically embody the elements of a warrior. He is small in frame and size. A scarecrow one could say. His hair was short and his face lacked the eyebrow stalks and high born chin tentacles of a pureblood of his station but he had his father's golden eyes. His father's infamously fierce and fiery golden eyes. A mark of a warrior. As he stood his ground and maintained the Shii-cho form of his stance, Sul'fer'us watched and studied Brim'tar's pattern. He kept count how often his uncle favored striking over head from his right side, the way he favors quick strikes over powerful ones to conserve his energy, that when he gets close in a standoff he leans his overweight to intimidate lesser foes. Sul'fer'us could almost smell the onions from Brim's brunch wafting from his mouth. Cousin to his father by blood relation on his grandmother's side, Sul'fer'us' uncle didn't seem like a warrior himself but he was far from being a pushover. Across his right eyebrow stalk was scaring from a lightsaber duel with a Darth during his tour on Balmorra. He had other scars but they were covered under his gray dueling tunic. Throughout the fight Brim'tar was the offender, testing young Sul'fer'us patience with each blow. Sith warrior's relayed on their powerful anger to devastate their foes but a master was one who held control over their anger despite how dire the situation became. Masters used fury like a second wind; granting their attacks with an extra edge in the battlefield. Brim'tar had a feeling his nephew has the potential. The problem was getting the youngling to act upon his gifts. Sul'fer'us kept up the blocking and parrying till Brim'tar was about to throw his weight into a downward strike. The young Sith thrust the tip of his training saber into Brim'tar's belly, swooping one leg between Brim's own, causing the juggernaut to topple on his own weight. The veteran however would not make this easy and used his moment to roll back onto his feet. Sul'fer'us went on the attack with heavy strikes to keep the large Sith unbalanced. Brim'tar countered with his saber ward technique till he could get his feet squared away but Sul'fer'us kept his pace. Assault strike. Block. Visicous strike. Counter with retaliating impale. Block. Thwack went the training blades each time they made contact. Brim'tar straighten his supporting leg to twirl his body around to deliver a diagonal slash. Sul'fer'us reached around with his training saber to trip, little did he know he was falling into a trap. He felt his throat suddenly tighten as his body was lifted off the ground. Brim'tar's free hand tighten his invisible grip. "Come on you whelp! That all you have?" Sul'fer'us concentrated his control of the force within his vocal cords. He answered. A great wall of air pushed into Brim'tars' large mass and disrupted his concentration. Landing on all fours Sul'fer'us pounced like a vine cat, his blow narrowly averted by Brim'tars' saber hand. The rage was surfacing now. His blows were stronger now. More frequent. Assault strike. Block. Counter. Parry. Thwack went the blades. Strike. Parry. Strike. Strike. Strike. Block. Strike. Strike. Parry. Strike. Brim'tar found himself buckling under the barrage, dropping to one knee. In desperation he attempted to use the Sneash form but the assault continued. Strike. Strike. Strike. Without warning Brim'tars' saber shattered near the hilt and he found himself at the mercy of his cousin's son. The boy stared down with his father's golden eyes. Then he grinned and offered his hand in support. "That all you have?" Defeated, Brim'tar accepted the invitation with a firm grip of his hand. As he rose Brim'tar pulled young naive Sul'fer'us close into a arm lock and pulled a knife to his throat. "Show mercy only to the dead or dying. Anyone else would simply kill you." Sul'fer'us only nodded in response. He felt his elder release his grip, withdraw his cold durasteel, followed by a firm pat on the back. The boy's voice felt raspy. "I think you enjoyed choking me a little too much." "Ha ha ha! You definitely have your father's humor if not his warrior's spirit. Once again the Academy will tremble as another son of Great Vul'canis comes to spill blood upon the red soil of our ancient home world. Oh to relive such glory," Brim'tar bent down to pick up the broken training saber, impressed by the feat. "The Force is strong in you, young Sul'fer'us, perhaps a little too strong." "My sister would have obliterated the saber along with your arm," Sul'fer'us rubbed his sore throat to ease the pain. "Come youngling. One last feast before you leave us for Korriban." "But you just ate less than an hour ago." "Always room for more when you work up an appetite as I have," Brim'tar walked with a eger stride up the marble steps with Sul'fer'us following in tow. As hateful as it would be to admite it young Sul'fer'us wouldn't mind indulging in a brief snack. Tonight would be his last night home. Under the cover of darkness and with only his tunic and training saber, he will transverse the difficult jungle terrain to the imperial space port where a private shuttle would wisk him away to distant Korriban. Sul'fer'us had only been off world twice before, both times when he was a child. He didn't know how long his stay would permit. It's been said around the estate that trails very between applicants. Some leave within days of arrival, impressing Sith lords with their extraordinary talents. Others have labored for years, yearning for a master to take them. Only the failures never leave. Under the shadowy cast of the temple pylons Sul'fer'us wondered who among the family would bother to take him as their apprentice. Tradition dictated that he would be taken up by one of the remaining lords in the family household. Unless another more powerful lord of the Sith outside the family's influence had his or hers eye on the pureblood. Then again none of the family may want him; He knew that there were far more exceeding pupils that made his own skills pale in comparison. Would he end up like his father's cousin, a fat tool whose skills rusted away from years of neglect? Or would he die in the fields of Korriban? Doubt was the mind killer, his father once told him, best to purge it from taking root and fruiting the essence of fear. Brim'tar halted and signaled Sul'fer'us to join him behind a pylon. The boy went along with a feel of confusement till Brim'tar pointed out the reason: Scor'ch had returned early from his hunt and was looking to kill someone. Sul'fer'us had heard stories of his blood relative's infamous temper, how he viciously attacks the servants with unparallel rage. How he takes great pleasure in the mistreatment of others. Sul'fer'us remembered a time when he was eight years of age walking past Scor'ch's quarters and hearing the hollering cries of help from a woman that had the misfortune of catching lord Scor'ch's eye. He was never told of the woman's fate but the boy had ideas. Ideas that scared him. Scor'ch was only half Pureblood; his pinkish red skin reflected this as did his lack of pureblood features such as eyesbrow stalks or chin tentacles. He also had blue eyes that could pierce ones' soul; another un pure feature he obtain from his mother, rumored to be a human girl that once served here. Sul'fer'us once asked how Scor'ch was related to the house; His father In'fer'us couldn't say and his mother Sahara only stated that Scor'ch was one of Darth Mol'tan's numerous whelps. Brim'tar hardly thought so as he kept Sul'fer'us in the shadows. Their golden eyes watched as Scor'ch chewed into his servants of how his trophy eluded his thirsty lightsabers based on bad Intel. To direct his rage the Sith backhanded one of his entourage so hard a stream of blood painted the pavement before the servant's limp body embraced the warm mixed stone and gravel. The servant didn't rose for a while. Brim'tar looked to Sul'fer'us. "Sometimes it's best to avoid some conflicts in the path to power..." "It disgusts me that he is related to us and not because of his heritage," Replied Sul'fer'us. "...Rage is your power but do not let it control you," stated Brim'tar "Besides I fear your father's wrath if anything should come to you before you depart." "I thought you feared my mother more?" joked Sul'fer'us in whisper. Brim'tar chuckled lightly. As Scor'ch walked on by to the stables and servant quarters, Brim'tar and Sul'fer'us left the safety of the pylons; the young Sith looked on to the wounded servant, a Ttwi'lik so frail one would think he's bones were made from toothpicks. Inside he wanted to aide this misbegotten creature but the path he was about to walk would not permit such lowly emotions. He had to become true Sith least he fail and become a slave like this poor fool before him. The pair walked to the eastern quarters where the families lived and studied the works of Vul'canis. It also housed the estates famed mead hall where Brim'tar was keen on visiting. However, approaching the estate the pair came into contact with two lovely ladies of the household; Lady Saharah and Flam'rus. Instantly both men gave a lit bow of respect to each lady. In return both women curtsied in their long red and gold robes. "Mother," spoke Sul'fer'us. "So I see you beat your teacher yet again, too bad we missed it," Commented Sahara. "Actually-" "Yeah your boy whooped me good milady," spoke Brim'tar in a friendly but respectful manner. "It is a shame your husband could not be here to witness young Sul'fer'us performance. He would be proud." "I think my husband's decisions would be best made by himself if he was here and not tending his duty to the empire at Kass City, dear cousin in law but your opinion is noted," Sahara noticed the Twi'lek raising from the gravel while covering his blood caked face. "Did this fight include the house servants?" Brim'tar and Sul'fer'us glanced back. "That would be the work of Scor'ch, milady." "Ah well we can't have him causing mischief on the eve of my dear son's retreat. I may have words with the Arch after his mediations are over. Still, there is work to be done. Sul'fer'us, your father will return soon so have yourself ready to leave by then." "Yes mother." "Brim'tar, would you be a dear and escort us ladyships to the Arch's personal chambers. I know In'fer'us would be grateful that his cousin looks out for his wife and children." Spoke Sahara to Brim'tar. The large Sith bowed again in respect to the lady's wishes. Then Sul'fer'us split off from the group and headed for his quarters while his teacher lead the ladies through to the inner maze of the estate.

Chapter 1 three standard months later... Dromund Kaas junglescape, Estate Vul'canis. Flam'rus had undergone many trails since her birth. At age three she underwent her first force sensitivity test. Age five she fought and won her first practice duel. Six was when she played her first professional chess match. At eight she began her studies in political imperial history and sciences. Ten was when it became apparent that her usage of the force was beyond that of her generation after manipulating her wet nurse's mind. At thirteen she was almost kidnapped by a revengeful Sith lord; he was found dead with third degree electrical burns. Now at sixteen standard, she faces her most difficult task; appeasing her piano instructor, Vee Three-Cee Nine. The young pureblood taps away across the semi-circular piano keyboard, wearing the red and gold robes of her station. She played to the notes floating in the holographic display before her; it was one of the opening acts to the classic Sith play entitled Fall of the Golden King. Vee Three kept track of the tempo with his internal metarmone program, weaving one of his metallic bronze fingers back and forth to the right pace. The protocol droid is a stern teacher of the arts and had happily served the household for more than a hundred standard years. Each generation of Sith could contribute their knowledge of imperial culture from this trustworthy artificial teacher. If the droid could feel actual emotion then his chest plate would swell with pride from the success stories; yet young Flam'rus was not one of those. Constantly, she plays faster than the suggested tempo and played at least twelve misplaced notes from the protocol's count. The droid calculated from Flam'rus body posture, temperature, respiration and blood pressure that she was hardly content with the work at hand. Vee three logically concluded that she was quite upset. At the start of the third section, she played an E flat rather than E minor. Then a low G instead of high. Her tempo is once again faster than the suggested pace. "No! No! No, it's too fast young mistress. You must play with accordance to the act." Flam'rus play style kept up the rushed pace. She loathed this. It felt long and boring and the droid's constant critique was not helping her focus any better. She craved for her long games of chess, sparring in the temple complex downstairs. Even history lessons had some appeal compared to this written dripple on the hologrid. Again she missed the E minor. "Mistress you must play the correct notes and the tempo is 1-2-3-4. 1-2-3-4." This didn't feel like music to her. She wanted to play what was on her mind. Write her own play or symphony or just a solo even. Yet the droid processes that she must learn the master's first before she is ready. A droid, telling a future lord of the Sith, what steps must be taken. At least with the servants she could simply erase their minds. Her mother was too cleaver to let Flam'rus off that easy. She let her anger flow into the key strokes. Pretty soon it sounded nothing like the piece floating in the air. It was sound that would make the jungle cats howl in agony. "That is completely wrong. You must cease this action at once and start from the beginning." Instead she simply slammed her hands once on the keys. Her voice sounded calm yet cold. "Droid, I do not wish to play this piece anymore." "Negative, You have yet to reach a satisfactory rating within the allotted time and you still have half such time remaining." Replied Vee Three. "Droid, I do not wish to play this piece, I'm ordering you to end this session." "Order denied. Parental directive is in effect. Fall of the Golden King is a necessary piece to challenge your development. You must learn to play the piece as intended," Replied Vee Three. "You disregard tempo and have made more than twenty three misplayed notes. Conclusion therefore you must replay from the beginning." Flam'rus just sat in her chair, concentrating. "Droid, you will end this session." "Mistress that not possible. I cannot violate parental directive as stated in...gn...gn...gn." Vee Three could not feel pain but his internal sensors indicated a buildup of unknown energy within its processing features. "System alert! Foreign contamination! Foreign contamination! Purge in progress." Flam'rus pictured in her mind's eye a bubble. One that was getting bigger. "Alert! Purge failed. Contamin-gn-gn-gn! Protocol's failing! Must reboot! Must re-gn-gn-gn!" Vee Three clutched at its bronze plated head fruitlessly. "Flam..." The voice carried across the room and with enough control to make even the young Sith lose hers. Her little bubble popped. Vee Three quickly regained composure and ran a quick diagnostic. "System clear. All protocols are now functioning. Ah! I did not see you there Madam Sahara. My humble apologizes." Many have compared Young Flam'rus to be a simple imitation of her mother's beauty; No more was this apparent when lady Sahara stepped past the hologram sheet music. They both shared the same dark hair but Flam'rus was short and uniformed whereas Sahara kept hers long with volume. Sahara's eyebrows were thin and long to match the eyebrow-stalks and had high cheek bones; Flam'rus did not have her mother's high breeding in regards to the stalks but kept her eyebrows thin. They shared the same eyes, dark crimson with a touch of amber. Flam'rus tried not to look directly at them. "So noted Vee Three. Your service is quite valuable to this family, I hate to see it end prematurely," Sahara shot a quick look at her offspring. "Time for a break for all parties. Vee Three see to the rest of your tasks for this day." The droid gave a humble bow."At once Madam." Its ancient servos squeaked with each step taken. For a long time silence. The daughter tried to speak but the mother interrupted. "Let's go for a walk my child." *** Mother and daughter walked close to one another through the halls of estate but their conversation was not a friendly one by far. Flam'rus kept her hands crossed her chest as she had to hear one of her mother's speeches on the importance of her lessons regardless of subject matter. It was all excuses in her mind. Rules and pointless endeavors to keep her stalemate. She felt she was ready for Korriaban. She knew she would easily dominate and she wouldn't be the first youngling to attend from this family's prestigious line. But Mother has to know best. "...aside from the fact you shouldn't try to destroy a family heirloom, my child, Vee Three represents myself and your father's wishes to impart wisdom to you and your brother. What you tried to do is a sign of disrespect. How do you think your actions reflect on us? You think just because you are gifted in the force that you must make such gross displays of power? Flam'rus it would be polite if you would answer me at least once so I don't look I'm talking to myself." Spoke Sahara. A little incoherent mumbling came from Flam'rus lips. "A little clearer, darling. I don't speak wookie." "I said I'm ready! More than ready and yet I must recite plays about old dead Sith lords? Dance and etiquette lessons; I can charm any mind without much effort. My skill in the saber arts is unequaled amongst the younglings," Responded the young pureblood. "You know I'm the most logical choice. Sul'fer'us maybe older but he is clearly not the better despite the amount of time you spend trying to hammer in all those last minute secretes before shoving him off to die at the hands of equally weak foes." "Is this jealously I sense brewing within you? If I known you wanted my attention so badly I would have instructed the droid to have you play Darth Mallack's 5th symphony instead," said Sahara with a smile. "That boring piece of poodoo would have gotten a rise out of you sooner." "This isn't simple sibling rivalry; You know my argument is sound. It's not just my opinion either. I've kept my ears to the ground around the family heads especially the Arch. He thinks Sul'fer'us is too weak of heart to be true Sith." "You should watch where you eavesdrop my little crow," Said Sahara as she adjusted her red shawl over her left shoulder. "Darth Mag'mus is always watching for spies in his own court least you get caught by him. Besides, this decision is one myself, your father and your brother's to make. Your destiny will come in time should you not rush and develop." "But the code encourages one to break past all limitations dear mother." Responded Flam'rus coyly. "But not about going against your mother's wishes. Nice try dear," Sahara rested her left arm around Flam'rus shoulder. "So, what else did your little ears picked up around the court?" "Well lord Scor'ch returned from the wall this morning. And not in a pleasant mood may I add. Seems his little hunting trip came up rather empty of the game he was seeking." "He's always in a foul mood. Probably from his mother's side, nothing new," Sahara shot a quick glance at a pair of passing servants, with her free hand hovering around one of her resting lightsabers. A lady of the Sith always keeps watch for assassins her own home. "Anything involving the good lady La'vas? Something publicly humiliating would brighten my day dear child." "She has gone to the citadel in Kaas City and has yet to return. I don't believe she's there on Darth Mag'mus behalf." "She's always been one to have her own opinion on things even if they differ from her father Darth Mag'mus. If there's one thing they both share its devotion to scheming behind each other's backsides but don't confuse that with backstabbing; those two have a strange, perverted loyalty that make even the relation between your uncle and your father seem...normal." The mentioning of her uncle put Flam'rus in a state of concern. "There hasn't been any word of his return yet. I know he's not the most favored son in the court but I find his talks often informative even when I was younger. Often I remember sitting transfixed by his speeches and adventures in perilous places far across the galaxy. Would breathtaking be pour choice of words to describe it?" "No, that's how you choose to remember such times. I recall you use to snuggle up in my lap like a little akk pup as your uncle Em'ber'us spooled his tall tales at the family dinner table. Your father enjoyed them as well even if he didn't show it to you children. However, these are the times we live in now and your brother could do without any wanton distraction from Em'ber'us' personality. As we speak he trains in the temple courtyard with your uncle Brim'tar with your father and elder warrior's watching." "I still think I should be the one going as he is not true Sith," Flam'rus leaned in to whisper to her mother's ear. "But I would like to watch him clobber uncle Brim with the training swords." "I think that can be arranged." Sahara lead on down the hall with her calm daughter who worked hard to hide her eagerness.

I got something. Title: House of Vul'canis Link: click here. Name: SwortzForce Class: (Inquisitor/Warrior; Sith pureblood)

Prolog... Uncharted Glaciers, Hoth. He had the dream again. Same as the previous night before. Even his meditations were haunted by the presence of Darth Vul'canis. Though long dead, this being still captive the imaginations of children told throughout the generations. His eyes burned like the light of a thousand suns. His cloak enveloped in the Smokey darkness of the night. His armored boots melted the ground he stood upon. He reached out, his glove dripping in molten magma. Vul'canis spoke in a tongue long forgotten and it put great fear into the inquisitor's heart. Inquisitor Em'ber'us broke off his meditation. He felt steam wafting off his red body; his meditation carpet held a scorched circle underneath where he sat. He coughed till his lungs were clean of the black soot. Again his mischievous ancestor attempts to interfere with his shot to supreme power. It mattered little now. Em'ber'us stood and called for his saber with his mind. It floated with the grace of a butterfly into the palm of his thin hand. He wrapped his purple robes with red trim tighter as he exited his personal sanctuary into the cold unforgiving that is Hoth. Immediately the harsh winds threaten to blow Em'ber'us away like a leaf. Two Imperial troopers stood guard, silent as statues. Sith care little about pawns as he strode right past them, leaving behind fresh puddles of water melted by the seething hate within. Em'ber'us, the ever patient, was tired of waiting for the excavation team to finish securing the site. He could not risk to wait another hour. His body followed the footsteps of his team to the crystal gorge below. The tracks zigzagged down a natural staircase along the northern wall. Several times the wind threatened to push him off the ledge. The crystals around seem to rattle like wind chimes. He tried to ignore their eerie hum. Vern the Rattataki stood watch over the slaves and scientists who labored countless hours to remove age old ice off the tomb's frozen doorway. Even with the most powerful torches and laser saws available the ice seemed unmoved by the efforts. Vern hollowred and curse and threaten to use lethal force but inside his mind he hated being here more so then the labors. He was once a proud member of Imperial intelligence; ruthlessness and ambition paved his way to the status of agent. Becoming Cipher was his dream and in seeking a ways to obtain it he found his services needed by Inquisitor Em'ber'us. Now he wanted to kill this pureblood and bury the evidence within the very tomb he seeks to open. Six months they were here, searching glacier after glacier for a lost relic. Now they were wasting time trying to undone thousands of years of heavy ice deposits. So engulfed he was in his secret hatred he almost failed to notice the Sith trenching his way to meet the agent. "Master, it's still not finished. These worthless wrechs- "Are none of my concern! We cannot waste another day here agent. I want that tomb breached now!" Em'ber'us' golden eyes pierced under his purple hood. He continued his pace toward the tomb. "Drill into the ice and blow it up with charges if you must!" "Sir the aftershock would undoubtedly trigger an avalanche. All of us would be swept up in the current of debris," Vern stayed close to the inquisitor's side much like a shadow. "I'm working on contacting the ship to fetch us some nano-droids to dig into the ice and devour it like Voss fire ants." "No! No more outside assistance! Too many know already! I must have this tomb's secrets by night fall!" The power hungry Sith stopped five meters away from his goal and reached out with his long thin arms. "If flesh and heat and metal cannot grant me what I seek then I will take it by force!" Vern felt strange tremors beneath his black sythweave boots. He heard the ice crystals begin to scream in unison. The gorge shook and its icy surfaced cracked like glass. The tomb before him seemed to want to lurch forward; almost as if the doors were being pulled open by invisible hands. The slaves cowered being of simple mind. The Scientists stared being of curious nature. The agent backed away being of cautious nature. The Sith being of ill patience. "My lord stop! You'll trigger the avalanche!" Vern's pleas were ignored as Em'ber'us began to pour his force lighting into icy surface. "OPEN! I COMMAND YOU!" A final blast of energy undone all that resisted him. The doors blew off their hinges and crashed down upon the laborers. Clouds of snow enveloped Vern's sight for a few moments. Convinced that the world around him was trying to swallow them all he crouched down into a ball and silently cursed Em'ber'us' impatience. He felt large pockets of snow crashing down upon his frame, chilling him to the bone. Vern clutched his ears to shield them from the cold. Then it stopped. Vern rose slowly from his premature burial and coughed out what tiny crystals had been inhaled. He looked on at what remained of the temple only to see Em'ber'us standing with not even a stretch on his person. The sith looked over his shoulder to the bewildered agent. His voice sounded claimer now. "You expect me to do your work as well? Ready your rifle for we may need it." The dark lord of the sith marched onward. Vern felt around for his blaster rifle before finally digging it out a couple of meters away. The agent again became the inquisitor's shadow as he followed in the melting path forged by the sith's hidden anger. *** The antechamber was huge. It consisted of easily two to three stories in height with the roof held aloof with pillars shaped as defeated sith lords who failed to achieve glory. Green glow globes affixed on pedestals illuminated only a small portion of the massive space. The only other sources of light came from Vern's flashlight attached to the barrel of his blaster rifle as he tried to peer into the seemly void of this place. "Krek, You could fit a capital ship in here..." "Focus." Replied Em'ber'us. Vern took out his portable scanner out from his belt loop and started making brief sweeps at everything in the darkness. "Low reading of biological and chemicals aligns. No E.M. signatures detected. No threats are present." Em'ber'us strode on with Vern in tow. Only a total fool would trust something as flimsy as technology. He knew that there was still power here, ancient and unbound. The force awaked his senses to the dark corners of the chamber. To his rare surprise this wasn't a tomb dedicated to a single sith but rather a necropolis of fallen force users. Em'ber'us could smell the bone dust that filled the inner linings of the walls. But there was something. A presence that kept itself hidden to the darkness. It was waiting and Em'ber'us knew it was tied with the artifact he was searching. A confrontation was inevitable. Laying in the antechamber rear was an altar constructed of two large featureless statues holding a red pyramid on their backsides. Vern insisted that he scan it first to check for booby traps, the sith simply ignored him and went to work studying the interrogate design of the pyramid. His mouth began to salivate at the prospects of achieving long sought out power. His red long fingers tapped against the surface of the pyramid feeling for switches or pieces to move. "Sir, perhaps you should wait till I can get more acute readings." "It will matter little at this point. Either I get what I seek or we both die here." Em'ber'us heard a click within the pyramid. Like a kitten with a ball of yarn in its paws the inquisitor worked with a feverish pace to unlock the artifact's secrets. Vern kept busy by casually scanning his flashlight into the dark unknown but he was really planning on killing that fool of an inquisitor. He was well past regretting. Now he had to bind his time waiting opportunity to surface, then plunge his vibroknife into the sith's backside for a quick kill. He was sick of all this force wielding madness and this fool's desire to get everyone killed. He could get away with it too, people die all the time on dangerous worlds like this. But it had to be at the right time. The inquisitor was powerful intuitive. Then he saw a shadowy blur move past the backdrop of his light. Vern froze for a second. He looked over his shoulder to see the Inquisitor in deep frenzy over working on his puzzle. Vern then butt his rifle against his shoulder as he kept watch of any movement. He couldn't put his finger on it but there was something watching them both. The green glow globes began to dim... Em'ber'us scrapped his fingernails across the grooves and edges of the pyramid. He was so close now. All that he sacrificed now was bearing fruit in the lure of this huge puzzle box. Another click. No bounds shall hold him once this opens. One more click is all he needs. But where to apply pressure? "Inquisitor, you need to hurry..." "Silence." Em'ber'us would not be denied this day. "I just need one more lock open." Vern's flashlight caught a short passing of the shadowy blur as it vanished behind one of the humanoid pillars. Vern wasted no time setting his rifle to full auto. "Inquisitor! This area is not safe! We need to book it!" "No. Not yet! The power! The power..." Em'ber'us became so enthralled with his pursuit that he didn't hear Vern unsheathe his vibroknife. He didn't feel it plunge into his spine until the blade's vibrations tickled down the length of his cells. He didn't see the shadowy reflection of Vern's face as the darkness of death began to intensify in his fading vision. "Keep it." Vern lift his vibroknife in haste as he gripped his rifle to double back. Em'ber'us didn't fall, his fingers gripped into the lines of the red pyramid as his life blood trickled away. He stared into the crimson reflection, the face of despair; the face of Vul'canis. His fiery eyes staring straight into Em'ber'us' essence as if he was trying to burn the inquisitor from the inside out. The Rattataki ran like frighten wampa rat. It wasn't long before his attention picked up the shadowy presence. It always stayed at the corner of his vision, taunting him. He light up the dark with red blasts as panic and fear became his true masters. He screamed and cursed and wailed at the black nothing. The barrel glowed hot. Before Vern could reload a fresh power cell he felt a tingle like static building up around him. He looked around to see Em'ber'us channeling force lighting from his body into the pyramid. The statues tasked with upholding the relic cracked and fracture under the concussive power. "You Krekking idiot! Can't you just die!!" Vern steaded his rifle against his shoulder. He aimed with the scope at the back of Em'ber'us' neck. He slowed his breathing. Then the darkness wrapped around Vern's neck and lifted him into its embrace. Em'ber'us felt his power working into the mechanism of the mysterious relic. Quickly the pyramid responded; its surface unlocking and opening. The antechamber shook with such unnatural energy. Em'ber'us slide off as his strength fade from his body. As he drew his last breath he felt the dark presence encroaching upon his dying body. *** At a nearby Chiss surveillance outpost their sensory picked high amounts of brief seismic activity from the uncharted glacier regions. Later, fly by reports from snow interceptors found a recent avalanche occurred in a ice-crystal gorge. They are unclear as to the cause to this present date...

((Greetings fellow players. Its been a while since my last post and with good reason; life has taken a few busy turns for me. So to keep this short I decided to post a family dynamic on the concept of Sith tradition. Enjoy.)) House of Vul'canis Plot: In the outcroppings of the jungles of Dromund Kaas rests the estate of Darth Vul'canis where his descendents live and train to preserve their way of life. Besieged by enemies around the imperial court these proud warriors and inquisitors of Sith pureblood show no mercy to any threat to their grand house. Lead by one who holds the title of "Arch", they strive to become the best yet the lure of power from the dark side brings about the threat of internal conflict with family loyalty. Now two brothers must make choices that could ensure succession or destruction. Is power worth more than the bonds of family? Characters: In'fer'us: Veteran warrior from the galactic war and possible choice for Arch. He is dependable but fierce when railed. His skill with a lightsaber is said to be unrivaled amongst the family. He wishes more for stability then power; he desires to see his children grow into true sith. Em'ber'us: Ambitious, mysterious inquisitor and younger twin to In'fer'us. Also fought in the Galactic war. Though weak in frame his command of the force rivals those upon the dark council. Even close relatives keep wide berth of him. He seeks the ancient teachings of sith lords past not just those preached by the family heads. Brim'tar: Cousin to the twins. Wishes to be Arch but knows he lacks the power and favor to achieve such goals. Works to help protect In'fer'us' family as well work behind the seams. Scor'ch: One of the runners to be Arch. Though the blood seems to run the thinnest in his family line, Scor'ch plans to take the title of Arch to prove once and for all that he is true sith. He feels his achievements during the galactic war was overlooked and holds resentment to In'fer'us La'vas: One of the runners to be Arch. She aims to succeed her father for her own gains. She holds a corner of her aggression towards Sahara due to her exquisite beauty Sahara: Wife to In'fer'us. Mother to Sul'Fer'us and Flam'rus. She holds great distrust towards Em'ber'us as she fears he could bring down her plans to make one of her offspring to be Arch. Considered to be one of the most beautiful women of the house despite her not being a blood relative. Sul'Fer'us: First born son to Sahara and In'fer'us. He is considered by many in the family to be the whelp and aims to disprove this. He has much to learn as he acts with more compassion then a sith should allow. Flam'rus: Daughter to Sahara and In'fer'us. Though she can be cruel to her sibling she does general care for her family's welfare. She loves to play games especially ones that involve politics and people's lives. Her control of the force makes her the envy of the younger generations; There is rumor that Em'ber'us may take her as his apprentice. Darth Mag'mus: Arch of the house and lord of the sith. Father to La'vas. He holds the teachings of Vul'canis as truth above all others. Mag'mus seeks to regain the family's lost seating in the dark council by any means necessary.

I'm researching the great war that lead to the treaty of Coruscant for the purpose of an up and coming story i'm writing. As a result I have some questions to ask. 1.) How long officially was the great war? The timeline vids give the hint it lasted for nearly thirty years though some experts are gonna argue it was far longer due to the secretive nature of the sith empire. 2.)Were worlds such as Taris, Hoth, Naboo or even Tatoonie ever sights of major or minor involvement? 3.)Which worlds or systems left the republic and joined the empire?

Welcome to the forums. Don't forget to submite your story to the story and author index at the top.

((I enjoyed your piece. It felt like it was philosphical essay; question not the motives of the force but rather the motives of the human mind.))

Thank you mr. or mrs. chicken for I can't tell what you look like through my monitor. Title: PAWN: Private Party Link: Click here. Author: SwortzForce Main toon: Imperial Agent (for the moment.)

Authors Note: ((Greetings fellow fan-fantics:D! I am the humble ScwortzForce and here I post my first work upon these sacred threads. I spent a day and half plotting, storyboarding, lite researching, writing and editing what I could from word. Course there are bound to be a few errors, no one work is perfect espeically beginners. The motivation behind this was the recent Ven Zallow server scare almost a whole week ago. I have a few characters there and feared the worst. So I wrote this to perseve what I think is the essence of an imperial agent who works freelance in the infamous landscape of Nar Shadda; the smuggler's moon. I ask that you all read and enjoy what I have posted here. Happy reading.)) PAWN:Private party Tug'kil tapped on the chronological meter band that was normally rested in his coat pocket. 12:09pm. Late already. Tug had other appointments waiting. His business was information and on Nar Shadda information was more valuable then all currency in the known galaxy. The Twi'lik played with the smoke stick in his mouth; his teeth bore down on the filter as it was carried end to end of Tug's grey lips. Before him stood the 8th ward; major trade district now turned neon sign graveyard. When something was of no use anymore it was dumped here. Speeders, ships, droids, people. Once gleaming skyscrapers now serve as stone heads to a metropolitan grave. Perfect for the meeting Tug'kil had in mind. A dark crimson speeder descended on orchard bridge; where Tug'kil stood having his smoke. The Twi'lik stared out into the ruinous wasteland before him as two lumberious gangsters crawled out, carrying a small Aqualish who didn't seem at all at ease with the precarious situation he was in. Little choice he had in the matter; his feet were encased in half a meter of carbonite and a black hoody rested on his head. Tug'kil gave one last puff before discarding his stick to garbage abyss below. He gave a wave to the gangster and in acknowledgement set the Aqualish down on the pavement like a statue. Then he made a brief inspection before reviling himself to the guest of honor tonight. Some species look generally similar and Tug didn't want to waste more of the evening on the wrong guest. The Aqualish's hands were inspected most thoroughly; Smooth, nimble fingers. Perfect for a doctor's profession. "Good evening Dr. Puma, Sorry to call you out at such an hour." Tug swept the hoody off the good doctor's hand in a quick swoop. The Aqualish blinked profusely with all four eyes."<Whe-where am I?! What is this place?!>" "I hope my associates were gentle when they took you shopping for those pair of shoes your wearing. Not a lot of people get custom made apparel for special occasions such as these." Tug'kil twisted the hoody in his grey hands as he began to pace before his audience. "And such an occasion this should be, what with this being the eve before your trip. Celebrations are in order. Mar'gul, Champagne." The alien doctor seemed bewildered as the goon who answers to Mar'gul went back behind the speeder to fetch a bottle and glasses. "<Trip? what trip? I've made no plans to go offworld! Do you know who I work for?!>" Mar'gul humbly brought Tug'kil his desired drink and poured a glass. "Ah. the aroma of a 23 year bottle kept chilled in Bac'chus the Hutt's private cellar. He has good tastes; remind me to send him a Ryloth brand to his collection." Dr. Puma was speechless. Who was this guy had such favor with his boss. Mar'gul then offered a glass to the Aqualish. "'Do enjoy yourself, doctor, this party is for your benefit," Tug'kil first swirled the glass before swishing the champagne into his mouth to maximize the flavor of the bubbles. 'Now then, have you packed all your things for tomorrow? Cloths, brushes, your wife's favorite bracelet?" "<She's not involved with this...this insanity. I tell you now I am loyal only to Bac'chus!>" The glass in his hand shakes slightly. The thought that he could die at any moment felt real with each passing second. "Loyalty? Whose questioning loyalty here? Is it you Mar'gul? what about you Gen?" Both henchmen stood silent though Gen had a crooked smile on his face as he looked at the doctor. "I'm shocked, no appalled, yes appalled, that you think I brought you out here for any other reason than to celebrate. Really, do I look like hit man to you? I get squeamish when I see blood," Tug'kil moved in closer to the frightened Aqualish. "However, I can't speak for the tastes of these gentlemen of whom brought you here tonight; I think Gen may enjoy strangling the life from a person, especially if their of a feminine sort but I'm undecided when it comes to Mar'gul. But as you see now you are still alive so then they must be here for some other reason no?" Dr. Puma nodded slowly. "<But...why here? This place has been abandoned for years.>" "Indeed. It makes the perfect spot for a private event. No noise. No light pollution say for the adjoining wards and districts. It's not the promenade but it has a charm of its own. This bridge we're standing on? Once was one of the highlights of Nar Shadda over a standard century ago. Time changes quickly though which why we must celebrate while the evening is young," Tug'kil goes through the motion of drinking when he stops and looks at the good doctor's drink. "Why you haven't even touched your glass. Your master gave me this to give to you and yet you do not wish to share in your lord's favor?" Dr. Puma nervously tipped the glass to his tusks, mistaken them for his lips and spilled over his casual clothing. Tug'kil walks over puts a reassuring hand on the Aqualish. "These things happen. It's not like your making a secret deal with Republic SIS agents in regards to your work on experimental metal alloys for combat droids or anything..." The Aqualish froze stiff like the carbonite encasing his feet. His first thought was that of his wife. He was taken abruptly before he even put the key card into the door of their flat. They pounced like Nexu stalkers and whisked him off to the industrial wards. He was kept tied and gagged like a hunting prize. Gen and Mar'gul laughed and joked dirty about dancer girls in the floating casinos while holding down Dr. Puma as carbonite and tibanna gases were pumped and pressurized into the chamber where his legs were clamped. Did they take her as well. Did these animals tie her up and froze her legs as they told dirty stories to one another or did they decided to act one of them out with her as an unwilling volunteer? Puma closed his eyes and prayed she wasn't already here; dead and discarded amongst the refuse of 8th ward. The core of him shivered. He couldn't stop picturing her lying dead with her eyes staring off to the neon lights beyond here. She was once a cantina server, a Zabrak who wanted to leave this moon like it was a bad memory. He told he had a plan, but this wasn't it. He was so careful; the secret meetings, the holocalls, the drop locations at the promenade in the 1st ward. How did it go so wrong. "'...Personally I don't blame you for wanting to leave. Nar Shadda isn't for the faint of heart" Tug'kill gently took the glass out of Dr. Puma's hands and tossed over the bridge. "Yet she's a useful moon, especially for my chosen trade. You see I'm an information specialist. That means I look for anything and everything that pertains to my client's wishes." Tug'kil took another drink of the Champagne. "People, places, ships, droids, Jedi, Sith, and most of all data. Sweet data bytes. I'm considered the best if I was ever known to anybody outside my client listing. Then I wouldn't be the best for discretion is key in my business. But enough about me lets chat about you. I have to at least give you an A for effort in your own little spy game but sadly you've watched too many holonovels. You see, I'm Nar Shadda's big brother and I see everything. There's probably not single public terminal that I haven't bugged. Not a hallway I don't have a micro-droid camera at the ready. Oh the things I have on Bac'chus would make even you blush but that's confidential under client privileges. The twi'lek swirled his glass in casual manner like one would at a real party. "Back to the subject at hand, namely you, the SIS, and that deal of yours. Naive of them to get you and your wife an inconspicuous trip to Alderran via private shuttle but come on any fool can tell you that planet has plenty of republic support. Would have sold it better had you told Bac'chus you were surprising the mistress with off world vacation instead of, what, a doctor's appointment? Anyway as you can imagine he's not happy. He feels betrayed. That's why he sent me." Tug'kil snapped his fingers within seconds Puma was whisked off the ground and carried to the edge. Upside down, Puma's fear of death returned with full force as he stared at the sprawling debris fields below him. He cried and cussed and begged in his native tongue but Mer'gul and Gen laughed it up. "You think he'll bounce?" Asked Gen as he peered over the edge. "20 cred says he'll sink like a stone in the ocean with this much carbonite stuck on his filthy hide"' Replied Mer'gul, the more vagular of the pair. "You're on!" "<Stop this please. I'll do whatever Bac'chus asks just don't kill me or my wife!>"' cried the good doctor. "This could have been a splendid party good doctor but you had to be a party pooper. I have other clients waiting so Adieu.' Tug'kil turned away to savor the last drop of Champagne in his glass on his to the crimson speeder. "Bonjour Monsieur Big Brother." A whistling sound is heard nearest Mer'gul "Gack!" Mer'gul couldn't shout for a vibroknife pierced his lungs. "'What the-" Gen was cut off when another vibroknife sliced open his throat. Thump went the carbonite shoes on the pavement followed by Dr. Puma's screeching. Tug'kil wiped around so fast his left Lekku twisted around him. The Aqualish was curled up in a ball where as Mer'gul and Gen laid dying on the pavement. The Twi'lek's right eyebrow began to twitch. "hehehehahaHaHaHaHAHAHAHAHA..." Instinct whipped Tug'kil around again. And again. The malvalunet laughter reverberated off the steel and titanium beams. In the confusion his glass shattered on the ground. "What the hoth is this?" whispered the bewildered specialist. He inched his towards his coat pocket for the concealed blaster. "Like a wampa rat caught in search beams and no place to run. Your outside your element Monsieur." Was this some sort of Jedi mind trick? Two dangerous men, disposed of within seconds and the intended victim is relatively unharmed? Cyborg maybe or a force user. Either case I'm underwhelmed here. Blast that cheap Hutt for not spending more on quality guards. This "ghost" has to be close. 10-30 meters at best. These thoughts ran through the Twi'leks twin tentacle brain. He knew he could either worm his way out or try to district while inching his way to the speeder. "Whoever you are we can make a deal. You've probably heard this with the conversation with the Aqualish but I'm information specialist. I know things. I can tell you lots of things. You've heard of shadow town? Imps say it's just a holding facility but it's no simple prison. They got genocide programs running daily in there. The Reps got spies and assassins in all the wards. And the Hutts are worse. Their playing everybody so they can suck this galaxy dry of resources to pleasure themselves!" 'Still trying to take control of the situation even when you don't. A true sign of a notorious extortionist eh Rhydol?' Tug'kil face became distorted after hearing his true name after so long. 'N-no...how did he...' The dark voice continued. 'It is Rhydol'lushin isn't it? Born in Coruscant's lower districts. Third child of a family of five. Your oldest brother died in knife fight with some gang rivals. Mother had a slight alcoholic problem. Father died from tumor in his Lekku. Began criminal profession as a stim runner then moved on to dealing; targeting not lower district slummers but middle class citizens. Ideal target considering they had money but not enough to afford protection against the likes of you. You found blackmailing your victims to be more rewarding then simple demands of payment for their drug habits. Used any information you obtained to leverage your clients to doing your dirty work. Adopted and changed your dead brother's identity to serve your own means. Now wanted in three republic systems and a possible involvement in a suicide of an imperial estate owner on Dromund Kaas. You been a bad, busy boy Rhydol'lushin. Guess you're not the only information specialist on smuggler's moon nor even the best..." Enraged, Tug'kil pulled out his blaster and started shooting randomly. 'Show yourself Filth!' The voice only laughed in response. 'HaHaHaHAHAHAHA!MWAHAHAHAHA!' "'You think you can play ME?! I've made Hutts kiss my boot leather for comprising holovids involving schoolchildren! Keep the alien! Bac'chus will have him dead before the night is through! Your just a ghost I'll gladly exorcise once I get to a terminal!" Tug'kil, fed up with this game, turned to head back to the crimson speeder. That's when he came face to face with the ghost. He stood at 1.57 meters wearing a black storm coat with a wide collar and red underlay. A black brim hat and mask obscured his face but the Twi'lek could tell that he was a black skinned human with cybernetic optical implants. He seemed kind of scrawny for an intimating presence. Maddened, Tug'kil pointed the blaster at the ghost's head and grinned insanely. *click* Nothing happened. *click**click* Tug'kil grew furious and tried to club the ghost. The next few seconds were a blur followed by his sore face hitting the pavement. He felt great amounts of pain all along his nerve points in his body. He couldn't move any muscles. Then felt something being rubbed against hands. A scanner of some type was cataloging his fingerprints and sending them to databases far and wide. The ghost spoke; his voice altered but not as booming as before. "SIS will be here in seven point five minutes to arrest you for the murder of these two goons and then they'll process you for the half a dozen crimes you've committed once they match the prints to the ones I've just sent them." Tug'kil spat as he struggled to make words. 'What...what prints?! I..don't...leave prints!' "I manufactured some based of Birth records from Coruscant and some help from II. You really should have avoided Dromund Kaas.'" The ghost then picked the blaster off the pave and took out its empty ammo battery. He then preceded to the side of the freighted Dr. Puma. "Doctor Henus Puma, Expert in metallurgy and geo-sciences I presume?" The ghost tucked his black gloves into his storm cloak as he looked down on the helpless doctor. The Aqualish nodded slowly, unsure if he was still alive. "Your wife is safe; she was moved to a safe house in the Duros sector over an hour ago. My apologizes for not getting to you sooner. I'll pulled some strings with imperial forces here and they've agreed to transport you and your wife to a neutral planet tomorrow. Whether you both decide to stay there or head for Alderran is your choice but before any of this can happen you must agree to be one of my agents. You must do anything and everything I command you to do is that understood?" The Doctor nodded. Slightly out of it. The ghost kneeled down and began the process of thawing the carbonite. "<'Who...what...are you?'>" The ghost rose his head so his red tinted eyes meet the Aqualishs' own. "I am merely but a Pawn."

I don't mean to sound like a forum noob but remind me again how you link your thread's URL or even change it so it reads like the title of your story and not url address?

Yes unfortunately. Would have been nice if cyborg was more of a general apperance option then a race chose.

*confused look*Didn't you just state this two pages ago? Nvm... The class story is pretty specific at times so its best to be general about when chatting it up with other players. Everyone here is pretty much in agreeance with this. It also helps to have a backstory planned ahead of time that can evlove as the story progresses. It doesn't have to be finte but it wouldn't hurt to have some general idea in your mind for you character's motives, personality and relationships with other characters before you type that name into the character creation tab.

*waves to all those more worthy then I.* Hi im new to the forums and frankly I was surprised at the amount of fiction they have. Most of you have talent. I hope to learn the ropes from you guys and start posting some of my own work based in the old republic. Till then I'll sit in the back and quietly review and comment on the many wonderful stories that are flooding the holonet. Cheers -SF.