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[Black Noise]

(( OOC here This thread is death enabled, no intervention from outside forces, just the current members allowed in))

The art museum of Entropy on Ruusan was creepy enough alone during the day, but at night, when the art museum was completely empty, it was downright terrifying. Hundreds of lost Sith and Jedi artifacts rested within this old building, adding to the mystery and all around confusion it caused through the Force, but it was no wonder it was daily ransacked by the Sith or Bogan. Many of the artifacts mysteriously lost their abilities once removed, therefore they were completely useless outside of the building.

As to why this was, no one knew, and for the most part no one cared. That is, until a certain new artifact had been brought in. A holocron from a long dead Sith that was rumored to mark the location of a very large cache of lightsaber blades, her trophies from many Jedi killed. The Sith originally tried to discover the location of the cache through the holocron, however, the holocron would only open for a Jedi Padawan. As such, it was useless to the greater galaxy.

But the hidden Jedi would certainly find use in such a cache, if not for their own use, but to put to rest the hopes and dreams contained within the lightsaber blades of Jedi who had been hunted down and unjustly slaughtered throughout the galaxy. During the reign of the Emperor, a thousand years before, many Jedi's blades went without proper deconstruction or after-death care. Many of them were desecrated, sold on the black market, or worse found themselves in sick Hutt collections. The cache would need to be found and removed, but first, the holocron.

What the Jedi did not know is that a mysterious, former Jedi organization had seen to it that the holocron was deposited in this museum specifically, in order to lay a trap for unsuspecting padawans to fall into. Now, four individuals laid in wait inside the museum, twiddling their thumbs until suddenly, the front door opened.

 

[Joshu Pladata]

The wind whistled through the old building creating sounds that were near human, shrill cries or long wails, it was all thoroughly unnerving and only added to the uncomfortable feeling presented when inside the old museum. Joshu and three of his brothers had been sent to the Museum though his brothers wouldn't reveal to him exactly why this was. He assumed that Padawans were not privy to such knowledge, or at the very least hoped so to spare his ego.

Without any directions to follow Joshu decided to start walking around the large hall, examining the works of art and old artifacts. Once again the winds wailed around the building, breaking what was starting to become and uncomfortable silence. The young Padawan's attention was then drawn by one of the artifacts in particular, an old Jedi holocron. Joshu approached the artifact with care, he gaze fixed on it, it was not as if he had never seen a holocron before but this one was old, really old. As he grew closer he began to pour over the device with his eyes inspecting the shape and make up of it when suddenly the doors to the Hall swung open. Joshu spun round and his hand went to his belt.

 

[Beta12]

The stone against him was cool, the whole museum itself reminding him of some dark dreary place pulled right from a ghost story. Though his brothers likely didn't recognize the feeling, the dank and dreary emotional emptiness to the place was almost palpable. It was like a fog, thick and enveloping, leaving the Zeltron feeling bare. If he hadn't joined the brotherhood he doubted he would have ever come to this place, let alone to the planet it was located on. Ruusan, a planet with a more intimate history of the Falleen then he cared to think about, was just about the last place he had expected himself to end up. Considering the vastness of the galaxy he had been born into, a museum was the last place he had expected to end up in what could be his final moments.

It took only a moment to shake those defeatist thoughts from his head, but as soon as they left, a whole new set drifted in to take their place. Elana Vasmith had been the girl who accompanied him since his escape from Korriban. However, she had been swept away with the tide of the changing galaxy in much the same way he had been. The near-death encounter with Sith Jedi-Killers on Boonta had been enough to drive Dyson off toward a more permanent safe haven. Getting in contact with the Brotherhood had been one of the easiest and worst decisions of his life.

Dyson had been fiddling with the handle of his double bladed saber for the better part of the last hour. His back was tensed against the stone pedestal he hid behind, every muscle of his body coiled in anticipation. The brotherhood had set up a trap for the New Jedi Order here, more importantly, for whatever Padawans that might drift into the museum, hoping to have a good time. It was right, he had been told. The decade since the fall of the Jedi had been blurred and misplaced for him, but to the brotherhood it had been clear. From what he had witnessed himself, and what he had been told by his new masters, the galaxy was far beyond the point of saving.

"What we're doing is right." He mumbled to himself, tightening his grip on the hilt as he felt the room tense and expand around him. The main doors of the museum creaked loudly on their hinges as they began to swing open. The suddenness of the noise forced Dyson into a crouching position, and within moments he was moving farther back into the museum, to brood among the larger exhibits until the rest of the brothers were ready to spring their trap. In part due to his anticipation, and in part due to his fear.

 

[TAC]

Ow.

The thought echoed through the man's head.

Everything was dark. He knew that was because his eyes were closed, but it was as if they were meant to be that way and always had been. Something in his mind suggested it might be prudent to open his eyes, but he had no other desire to do so. He was content with his eyes closed. It was calm, quiet, comfortable, and he simply wanted to remain where he was.

Of course, as his senses returned to him he realized it was quite uncomfortable. Laying on his side on a hard floor offered the aging man no comfort. In fact, he realized, it was quite cold. Colder than it should have been on his skin. Oh, he was naked.

Realizing he was regaining consciousness on a hard, cold floor completely naked, Larik Novan opened his eyes and gasped for air. For some reason, he had been holding his breath for at least two minutes, probably three. The room was dark except for the light that dim lighting that came in from an open door that led into a hallway. His eyes were already adjusted, although they took a minute to refocus, as he took in his surroundings. It looked like some sort of museum, definitely after hours. He felt the subtle pulls of the Force in the objects around him, an odd assortment of force-imbued objects....

"Wait, what the hell?" the Corellian said out loud.

He sat straight up, the force presence filling the room as he enjoyed the sensation of its constructiveness. Then, quickly, he snubbed it. In a small flash he no longer existed within the force, pulling his presence into itself until he appeared to be nothing but air in the room. Something was definitely wrong with this picture. A force-disabled Grand Master of the Jedi wakes up naked and able to use the force in a museum - how soon before the punchline came? The man carefully moved to his feet, and a glint in the corner of the room caught his eyes. Carefully walking over, the man found a small bag - inside was his clothes, a pair of simple black trousers and a fit black sweater, his underwear, his comlink, blaster and holster, and his lightsaber.

The man quickly dressed himself and quieted the thumping inside his head. He had literally no idea where he was or what had happened. His face had a long stubble, suggesting he had not shaved in two or three days, a rare occurrence for the man. Taking a breath and centralizing himself, he steadied himself against the wall as he regained his composure. Taking a step forward, his presence still buried into the living force that encircled the place, he peered out into the hall.

It was strangely eerie, the lights dimmed for the night, a strange lonely ringing in the absolute quietness of the place. The aging Corellian felt a slight pull to his right, and although he saw nothing more than a pair of doors about 100 feet down the hall-way, he remembered what it was like to have the force guiding his thoughts and movements. Smiling, he kept a hand against the wall as he slowly made his way down the quiet hallway.

 

[Vulpes]

For someone who sought to know the greater workings in the galaxy, Arikka-Mar was rather ignorant of what she was walking into. Her time away from the Jedi had left the Codru-Ji with an acute view of the Galaxy. She was not banished, and she did not forfeit her position in the Order, but simply took up hermitage on Tatooine, where she would get the occasional visit by wayward Jedi, but was ultimately left in seclusion and given the opportunity to pursue her own interests. In that time, she had rubbed shoulders with several vagrants and blatant criminals, purely for the sake of making the Galaxy better in the grand scheme of it all. With that, of course comes contacts who'd relay anything interesting to her, and while most of it was nothing more than street gang gossip and smugglers' bluffs, this one had peaked her interest. It was something to do with the Force.

The four-armed Codru-Ji trekked through the southeastern part of the Museum, which was accessed through a broken lock on a window. She wore discrete civilian clothing, with a dark color palette assigned to it. She wasn't sure what she was walking into, and even unaware of there being Jedi investigating the same building. The artifacts and curios scattered around the building caused a discord in the Force, with conflicting senses. A Fog of War effect. Knowing this, she didn't dampen her presence in the Force, as she often did when traversing the public.

She continued to walk down the hall, which was progressively getting darker as she approached a turn. Arikka took this opportunity to pull out a lighter and a cigarra she had cased on her belt, beside her lightsabers. A brief moment of illumination allowed her to see the vague recreation of the temple of Coruscant to her left, just as quickly as it appeared with the flame, it disappeared with it gone. She took a drag of her cigarra and continued to search for the holocron.

 

[Raydo]

The Jedi had a ton of lightsabers, why had he been sent across the Galaxy to find a map that may lead to some more. It made no sense, but neither did the myriad of other tasks he had been given as a Padawan. This time he had chosen not to complain, last time he had found himself scrubbing bathrooms on The Galactic Evolution for questioning the point of a mission.

He had been told to meet another Padawan here at the museum, or had it been two? He couldn't remember...He was going to be washing the X-Wings for a month..He knew it.

He had waited outside for sometime for his partner to meet with him, but no one showed. He was about to leave when he decided he would just go in and get the artifact himself. He didn't need help. Maybe this would prove to the Masters of the Order that he was ready for real missions and not these pointless training ones.

He set out through the dark hallways, He clutched his lightsaber so tightly in his hand that his knuckles had started ache. He crouched as he thought he heard a noise coming from a room further down the hall. He then heard nothing. The silence was deafening to him. He slowly stood and took small steps towards the door. He reached for the handle just as the door opened. Gavin almost died from the sudden jolt of fear. He somehow managed to not drop his lightsaber and ignited the blade. Just as he was about swing he paused "W...w...wait.....Master Novan?" the boy asked as he squinted in the dim light of the lightsaber. The sound of his own voice making the boy jump again. Gavin's face had been bleached white with fear and his breath neared hyperventilation.

He still held the ignited blade in his hand.

@TAC

 

[Black Noise]

Then, just as quick as they opened, the doors slammed shut. Asger relied upon his cybernetic eyes and the interface in the black styled Centurion armor. The Force was almost confused here. If a non sentient power force could feel emotions, that was.

What if there were little emotions inside everyone's head? Each one having a function and operating a part of the brain at a large interface control? Wouldn't that be neat?

Strange, drifting thoughts aside, Asger strode confidently down the hallway, looking for his first opponent. A four armed woman at the end of the hallway was his first sight, and therefore his first enemy. Igniting his blue blade, Asger thought he looked super cool with his blue blade illuminating his black Centurion armor in the dark, almost misty, hallway.

 

[Kibagami]

Asger's blue saberblade also shed an azure shade upon the one that came up a few paces behind him. A tattered chonin-gasa hat lifted with a tilt to the right when Asger spotted someone or something with four arms. The time had come. "I'll go find Mr. Pink." He grumbled to Asger, then split off down an adjacent hallway towards where Dyson would be.

At the end of the hallway into another museum showroom he spotted Dyson going right by him, looking as if he was moving farther back into the museum rather than heading towards the sounds of the doors where the padawans would be. "Wrong way, sunburn. You want that cache or not?" He didn't care enough to stick around for an answer, instead went the opposite way Dyson was headed.

When rounding another corner he came across exactly what he was looking for and wasted no time getting to the point. "The old Sith holocron, where is it?" @Joshu Pladata

 

[Joshu Pladata]

The doors closed as quickly as they had opened and Joshu stood motionless with his hand still at his hilt. He was jumpy tonight, maybe it was the wind that put him on edge, who knows? He was then met with the words "The old Sith holocron, where is it?" Joshu's eyes looked slighty to the side thinking of the holocron behind him.

"Sith holocron?" he thought to himself, that might explain the strange markings on it, it must have been the reason he was sent to the museum. Things seemed to be pulling together but the mystery that remained was the man stood before him. What did he want with the device and was he to be trusted. Then, with a hint of caution in his voice, his hand still on his belt, he responded "Safe" This would obviously lead to more questioning if the man was of the light side but if his intentions were darker this might spark a battle, something the Padawan made sure he would be prepared for. His hand tightened on the hilt of his lightsaber as he awaited a response. It wasn't often Joshu felt this kind of dread but the combination of everything going on had a sort of overwhelming effect on him.
@Kibagami

 

[Beta12]

The gloomy atmosphere of the museum morphed into a world of muffled movement, voices, and color as the trap began to play itself out. However, among the noises of the museum a single pair of footsteps stood out to him, mainly because the man they belonged too happened to be walking right past him. Jubei Kibagami, a name he was surprised to have remembered, as he had barely talked to the man it belonged to outside of training or mission planning. The Zeltron halted his movement and cocked his head toward Kiba, just in time to catch one of the multiple skin-based nicknames he had received since joining the order.

"Wrong way, sunburn. You want that cache or not?"

"Don't get your ponytail in a twist." Dyson couldn't help himself, his comebacks had always been spitfire and a year spent ducking dangerously close back into his old life hadn't helped him in that respect. Kiba continued on despite his remark, choosing to follow him right up to one of the padawan in question. He didn't know his name, his story, or why he had personally been picked to come here. Even though he was interested, Dyson knew he couldn't afford to get attached to the people he had been sent to murder. No neutralize. As his own thoughts caught up with him, Dyson couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine.

Without saying a word to Kiba or the Padawan before them, the Zeltron peeled off and continued toward the front of the museum, his eyes darting in every direction in an attempt to spot the brother he had been assigned to. Though he had remembered Kiba's name to the pronunciation, the man's name he had been assigned to escaped him completely. "J... Joe.. Joey... Jack?" The names funneled out of his mouth as filler, as if they would stall the inevitable battle to come.

Dyson grasped the hilt of his double bladed light saber firmly in his right hand, slowing as he turned to face the cusp of a long hall. Two men that were most definitely not on his side slowly came into view farther in. He dared not engage them, not without more muscle on his side, so he simply ducked back behind the corner and hoped the artifacts own varied force signatures would in part help him mask his own. Peering out from behind the stone, he could barely make out the features of the two men, both cast in the illuminating glow of a single lightsaber.

One appeared startled and the other appeared to be Jedi Master Novan. To say that Dyson's jaw dropped to the floor would have been an understatement. Surprise, shock, and a sense of dread shot through him like the pods racing on Boonta. He bit his lip, hard, to suppress any noise that might indicate his recognition and location. With that out of the way the Zeltron quickly yanked his head back around the corner, keeping in his crouched position. He blinked a few times, attempting to wash away the emotions boiling inside of him. With his un-ignited saber now grasped firmly in both hands, the only thing he could do was wait for his Knight in shining armor to arrive.

Opps, forgot to tag @Lucid @TAC and @Raydo since the post revolves around you all

 

[Vulpes]

@Black Noise

The Codru-Ji's canine-like ears perked up, hearing the door in the distance, quickly with a blue blade to illuminate the area shortly after. The wielder, some sort of humanoid wearing an armor configuration she had never seen before. Arikka recognized the intimidating presence he held, but took it with little regard. The Cartel has prepared me to see practically anything and not flinch. It was mostly true. She had developed one hell of a sabbacc face.

She used the palm of one of her hands to swipe the hood away from her head to reveal her dyed black hair, while her other hand took the cigarra and held it as she spoke, "I'm sorry, but the Museum is over. Tours begin again at ten o'clock tomorrow morning," She was talking bull, and it was pretty clear to anyone who could see her appearance. She kept her lightsabers holstered, curious of the 'man's reaction and intent.

 

[Black Noise]

@Vulpes

Pulling his red bladed shoto from his belt and igniting it in the off hand, the armored cyborg looked over the Codru-ji woman for a moment. Without skipping a beat, he asked, "Are you sure? I'm not sure you work here, because you're not wearing your name tag!" Stepping forward, he cleared the distance between them and thrust his long blade out at the woman. It was a probing strike, and easily deflected or sidestepped.

Regardless of the probe's success or failure, Asger would step back, having kept his secondary blade in a defensive position at his side and kept it prepared to block any strike from the woman. Four arms meant a lot of blades. As he did so, he continued, "All employees are required to wear nametags at all times, otherwise they get The Boot. So, it begs the question, who are you?" Asger would be lying if he said he did not find the dark haired woman attractive, but his fluttering cyborg heart aside, she was still his opponent.

 

[Vulpes]

@Black Noise

Without a second though, Arikka-Mar took a diagonal shuffle out and away from the way of the thrust. A feint, mischievous grin came over her face as she crossed her top arms and having her lower pair of hands rest on her hips. "Nametags are overrated. It's the night shift, after all." Her eyes darted briefly to inspect the red shoto, similar in size to her own, which still rested on her hip.

"The curios aren't meant to be interactive," The Jedi Master mimicked the voice of a snobby, high class patron, "Without training, you could get hurt, my boy." She didn't blink, but her playful smile indicated she was taking a jab at his skills. The Codru-Ji tapped the ashe off of her cigarra and paced slowly, waiting to see what her new opponent's next action would be.

 

[Black Noise]

@Vulpes

Having taken his step back, Asger couldn't help but laugh through his helmet. Pulling his hand up, the former Jedi Knight pulled his helmet from his head and revealed the face beneath. Grey streaks drug themselves through the untamable mop of jet black hair. As his cybernetic eyes scanned the room, he responded nonchalantly and in the put on voice of a much older man, "I'm at least twice your age, little once, you best show a bit more respect around your elders. Kids these days!"

Twirling his shoto, he struck out and threw a wave of telekinetic energy towards the Jedi master, waiting to see how he's react. It seemed to be that she preferred to dodge around his attacks than directly engage him, he would have to use this to his advantage. But at the moment, talking was proving much more entertaining than fighting. He absentmindedly wondered if he could talk her to death.

 

[Lucid]

OOC: Hello, @TAC

The grand double doors burst open under the weight of the Force. The tiles underfoot snapped free from their grout as the great wave surged down the hallway. It surged past the great Jedi catching him up in its ferocity to throw him back the way he had come. Rage singed the air, making it crackle with energy though the source remained out of sight.

Tiles, freed from the moorings took to the air as the powerful surge faded back into the ether. A twist of frightful will shattered the tiles and sent them in a deadly hail towards the scruffy-looking Jedi. Each shard as it whipped past, seeking flesh and bone, left in its wake a sickening sense of bloodlust and disgust. Everything about the Force just then was unclean.

 

[Vulpes]

@Black Noise

The sudden push in energy caught her with her guard down, and gave her little time to react, other than to dig her feet into the ground the best she could. An insufferable screeching noise came from the sound of her boots sliding against marble. The push had sent her back a couple of meters, but she still stood on her feet, with one of her lower hands pressed against the floor to catch her balance. She chuckled out a response, "I thought with age came wisdom," pausing briefly as she stood completely upright again, "And it was unwise to do that."

Without hesitation, she flicked her cigarra aside and gripped onto her lightsaber shoto with her lower right hand. With the aid of the Force, she took a quick, three step sprint towards Asger, before pushing her weight up into a force assisted jump. As the running footsteps ceased, the distinct hum of a lightsaber igniting filled it's void. With the yellow blade, Arikka took a mid-air swipe at her opponent as she leaped over him.

Whether or not the swing hit, her flight path ended with her between Asger and the door, where she had landed without much issue, quickly turning to face him in a Soresu defense pose.

 

[Kibagami]

"Safe" Was the answer.
"Good. That's good." Jubei replied as he loosened the thin leather drawstrings of the chonin-gasa, the hat fell softly behind his head where the leather strips went slightly taut around his neck stopping it's fall. His head tilted to see over the man's shoulder to the artifact behind him. "Is that it?" he asked, since the previous question was answered so honestly. "Nevermind, I'm taking it anyway." His left hand reached behind his left shoulder to grasp the handle of the massive 4foot twin-bladed Souba sheathed on his back. And if it wasn't obvious before, "You might want to move....", it was obvious now that he meant to shatter the artifact's glass casing, and he was more than willing to slice right through the man to do it.
@Joshu Pladata

 

[Alphonse Cunningham]

The Anzat's nose perked up. He had been walking past a museum, when a surge in the Force had caused him to jump a bit, mostly out of excitement. "Oh my," he murmured, glancing at the darkened building,"is that a challenge?" Rubbing his stomach, the Sith turned off the path and walked to the museum's entrace. The massive doors were opened inward, and tiles seemed to be all over the place. "Goodness, isn't this," Alphonse licked his lips as he walked in,"just positively delicious?" He loved the air of dread caused by the surge in the Force. This was certainly the work of one that prefered the dark side. A Sith.

He sensed something else. It was another, opposite force pushing itself into him, a positive one. A feeling of well-being washed over the Anzat and he shuddered with disgust, as though an insect had woven its way into his body. "Kriffing hell, is that a Jedi?" He turned his head. "No, that's more than one Jedi." Smirking evilly, the Anzat strode into the darkness, and sniffed, searching for possible prey. He was willing to form an alliance with the other Sith, or with anyone that was not a Jedi.

"Blimey, isn't this just the bloody bees knees?" he whispered to himself as a Codru-Ji facing a droid came into view. Her yellow lightsaber brightened the hallway, and both of them released waves of positive energy. These people were skilled with the Force, most likely stronger than the Anzat. Walking closer, he waved slowly.

"Top o' the evenin' to ya, mates." He tipped his hat farther down his forehead, although it was already covering his eyes. "What's your story?" One of them was definitely a Jedi. Something told the Anzat it was the Codru-Ji. The other person might prove as an ally in the duel he was sensing would begin.

 

[Black Noise]

@Vulpes

Asger was ruthless, in the heat of battle, all that mattered was his spirit clashing against the spirit of his opponent. As the woman spoke, the machine man took a defensive posture, both blades raised. With quick eyes, he watched her Force assisted movements and called upon the Force to aid his body in his speed. Without hesitation, just as the woman jumped and began to strike out at him, Asger struck out himself.

With his short blade, he clashed against the woman's blade, blocking it mid-air. With his longer blade, he reached past the shoto and struck at the woman's body, aiming to cut her right through her midsection. This Codru-ji had just made the first mistake of combat, do not ever charge your opponent, and if Asger was successful, it would also be the last mistake she ever made. There was no hesitation in his swing, only the lethal execution of it.

In his focus, he did not even notice the new arrival speaking to him. Perhaps it was for the best, because if he did, his spirit as the leader of the Brotherhood of Light would compel him to immediately murder the lad.

 

[Vulpes]

@Black Noise

Arikka felt as her heart raced as she quickly recognized the mistake. Her inexperience in Ataru, and acrobatic combat was a mistake, a possible fatal one. With her free, upper right hand she pushed her dual-sided lightsaber into her hip as hard as she could as she flipped the ignition switch that activated the part facing her upper body. A sharp crackle of it making contact with Asger's blade echoed the room. The parry was difficult, with the Jedi Master unable to even unclip the hilt from her belt, and the only pressure she was able to put against it was between her hand and her hip.

She winced in pain as she felt a duology of contacts, the first being Asger's blade still skimming over the skin just above her hip, as well as her own blade knicking just below her lower right forearm. It was a sloppy, poor reaction, but possibly life-saving, at least for now. Her focus was lost on the jump and landing, though, with her lightsabers disigniting as she had a tumbling landing, her unhooked shoto sliding a few yards down the marble floor. The landing was a pathetic display, especially for someone of her rank.