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Kasimir posted a topic in Sanderson EliminationThe sky was a sullen red-orange. Maybe there was a dust storm, brewing out there somewhere. Lived on Korriban for long enough, and you got accustomed to the world’s many moods. On Korriban, none of them really portended well. Sajhe remembered a great deal of things. Sometimes, he remembered more than people reckoned he should. Korriban, though. Sajhe never liked to believe anything was rotten to the core. Way he saw it, most people had some slice of goodness in them. The trick was reaching it. You saw enough, you reckoned that maybe some people needed more help reaching it than others. Korriban had been a Sith world, from the beginning. Maybe there was a time, far back, before the great split in the Bendu, before there were words for those who wanted to go with the flow, and those who wanted mastery, when the galaxy was one, and when there were flowers in the majestic canyons of Korriban. Now though, it’d been years and years and years since the Sith had died in the Battle of Ruusan, and suddenly emerged again to rule in might, only to be lately vanquished, by all reckoning, by Luke Skywalker himself. And still, Korriban was a Sith world, and there were countless nooks and crannies you could go to that just made you shiver with sudden fear, as though someone were walking over your grave. As a general rule, Sajhe avoided those places. And watched. And kept the drinks flowing. A long time ago, he’d figured he’d be doing something other than keeping a local watering hole open somewhere as small and dusty and forgettable as Dreshdae. But things changed. People changed. Fancy that. The door hissed and wheezed as someone tried to palm it open. Probably a faulty motivator. Sajhe’d have to get someone to look at it, maybe work at it himself. Kept the hands busy. Finally, it slid open with a corrugated screech, slamming back to the far side of the doorway. Sajhe looked up. The various patrons of The Drunk Side looked up. A dark figure, hooded, stood in the doorway of the bar. Contemptous eyes, burning fiery gold out of the shadows. Sajhe didn’t like those. Eyes that spoke of mastery, eyes that said they saw you only as tools to be used, and subsequently discarded. Nothing good, nothing ever worth having, came out of mastery, Sajhe thought. The wise knew better than to exert themselves against the world. But that was the old sorrow, the old split, the schism that had wracked the Bendu, and then played out again and again, echoing over the corridors of time. An old sorrow and Sajhe heard its strains and did not think it could ever be so simply mended. If there was a time for mending, it was beyond prophecy. The figure strode to the counter. Sajhe said, “Welcome to The Drunk Side! What can I—” His breath caught in his throat. Red misted the edges of his vision. “I want information,” the figure said. Cold, forceful fingers ripped at his mind, seeking to know about Korriban, seeking to know about the Valley of the Dark Lords. Better not to know, Sajhe thought. The old sorrow. Beyond mending. “You think to defy me?” “Hey, what do you think you are doing—” Sajhe, against the pressure on his throat, barely managed to croak, “Go!” Old Barles threw himself backwards, and just in time, as a bar of scarlet plasma hummed to life in the figure’s hand and scythed through the air where he had stood. “Jedi,” Barles whispered, eyes wide, because even years after the Jedi had fallen, and oh, Sajhe had felt grim determination and resignation on the day he had heard, but also relief, the sense that the worst had happened, and there was nothing more to be done, even years after, beings saw a lightsaber and thought Jedi, even though the colour should have been the first clue, Sith always used synthetic crystals forged from Sith alchemy. Mastery. Cold laughter. “We are beyond the Jedi,” the Sith hissed. “We are Disciples of Ragnos. And we will reclaim the Valley of Dark Lords.” The bar was frozen. The terror of being confronted by a predator, by a being out of legend. What did you do against a Jedi who exuded such menace? Against, Sajhe thought, one of the Jedi fallen? But there was grace, too. Moments of grace unasked for, and unearned. The Sith’s comlink chirped, and he keyed it. “Retreat,” crackled a voice. “Are you mad?” the Sith demanded. “There are Jedi in this settlement. If you act preemptively, you will provoke them into calling for help. Do you think the two of us can kill our way through everything Luke Skywalker sends our way? Patience.” With burning eyes, the Sith studied the bar. The red lightsaber came down, slashing through the glowing halves of the counter. The sharp, thunderous scent of ozone. “This isn’t over,” he growled. A promise, not a threat. “We will eliminate the Jedi. And we will have the secret of the Valley out of one of you, one way or another.” The door stayed open. Forced open, no doubt. Sajhe sighed. His throat ached. “Does anyone want a drink?” he asked, tentatively. “The hell was that?” Barles whispered. “Sith,” said someone else. “Or a Jedi gone bad, it doesn’t matter. Someone’s got to put out the call to the New Republic. If there’s Sith on Dreshdae, we’re all in for it.” MR61: Shadows and Dust “We are but shadows and dust.” — Commentaries on the Life of Ulic Qel-Droma by Sajhe Kel-Arran A LONG TIME AGO, IN A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY... The wind sweeps across the aging settlement of Dreshdae, stirring dry ochre dust in its wake. Some days, the wind rises from the Valley of the Dark Lords, bringing with it quiet susurrus of ancient bones, tombs best left undisturbed. It blows through Dreshdae, causing the rusted wind turbines to creak reluctantly back into life, supplying energy to the humming power generator. A long time ago, in the days of the Jedi Civil War, more people came to Dreshdae. Centuries later, the settlement is all but condemned: archeologists, historians, spacers bringing supplies, and a few researchers trickle in and out, barely keeping Dreshdae alive. Centuries later, seekers have come once again to Dreshdae, chasing after the echoes of Sith Lords long faded into the shadows of history. What will you do? Will you allow the last remnants of the Sith to crumble into the dust? Or will you kindle the flames of a new Sith Empire from the shadows? General Rules: Win Conditions: Mechanics: Roles: RP Guide: Cosmetic Roles: Quick Links: Sign-ups are open now and will close on Sunday, 27th November 2022, at 0100hrs SGT (GMT +8). Rollovers will take place at the same time. The IM for the game is @Elandera. This game is a re-run of MR2, with lightsabers. Note that I would like at least fifteen players to feel comfortable with the existing ruleset. If this minimum cannot be reached, I will either extend sign-ups or remove the vote manip powers. We'll make that Death Star run when we get to it. Please also be reminded to desist from posting in the thread until I can reserve the next post. I will always do so in order to collect both the current player list and the most recent set of rule clarifications for easy access.